The Sun. — London, England, 1834-09-26 00:00:00

iN. 'clock. Prescott, ,o Island of from the deceased, purchase, 'oot, to be ;ept. 26 . Assistant be Assist- Sept. 26. Foot, 7 0 ,t, to be roinoted ec Barlow, D., t ° " j ;A s sistan t " A ; En?g o be Exsign' n t- Suleon . langas ; 2 6. Sept. eget! n cane te a tow° treat fo° Ligut I)%v attae llea. on Try'. '0 to be ani on to . v ie L it ,tri iLt er kdio„,,artof ,f watt• e, aecel°l' ALP , ana s urren der sur r ; o 4. t of ark, Oct.e: , end So;lrr ig ton, )1. r od Old 13 130 14 ' Lrt of o f- Lngton, 01, e Oct. ' Tiro — r• re et. ,B Jet. . S ue rs, Dols , ' 1. ;n iv a er ro y, ores -c 11 1 1 , Fic e r aa olv rt of officix ; I,ol l ' u ojer °eft Sar rel ; ;ey, tie r , Cave° sttf r ° t 004" olol lif or Llers, 'cg. ATP.' e ig. 'T•Fr arl ca ll., Ac id Sp on . gr est firers' 100 . tra tes ' i ) for i dicteu au ltiPft ass Col l ' eY ar the ith 1' and , 0. 0-, 0. ' 11 00) 1 S e C d i,tey l wh ich pan reiva le• arl k th e p e r e pr ise ic ass tru 'r u r s tir re d, irO u rpe 0 5 ' a f e the „oh, Jr done leY orro bo• the Par so nll' pri f t he co o x t I %eve' ' a llt° t ng that he vas '1,1: fouoa urY risoo'e nt l e ft 1 1 .19 isit t ° 1 in Not i i r 1 his a 2 i 5 th e ong aaYiog en P he J -e a It ar rive d l ' °r pp ILtivs P 5 of THE LORD CHANCELLOR. I, lk _ Portion o f t h e Metropolitan press has for some weeks past it cl ° attempting t o en - " write down" the Lord Chancellor ! Aere told 4 7 was their i er ntention. The Times took the and was follow ed by seval of the Ultra -radical papers, , th as a matter of course, all the Tory journals. The success ,eeffort has been worthy of the object, and the motive i f r o id rin uc s ed w it. It has caused the friends, not of the Lord I,.._uazeel or merely, but of those of the social improvements i a e g p 6'eh re hich his gigantic mind first propounded, and ozeai t afloat before the world, to rally round his Lordship with te n , Proportioned to the virulence of the attack ; and . we ood ‘lare to say that his Lordship's character as a politician, t re. as a statesman, has come forth like fine gold tried by the o r._ We trust that it will remain a monument of the futility t i ot r Y attempts now-a-days to ruin the character ttalt e q an y man merely because he is entitled torespect for 4 1 , a talent and consistent patriotism. The schoolmaster l e aeen abroad to some purpose ; the people of England have their few lessons of late years, and the first use they make ofknowledge will be to sift the wheat from the mountain 25fr, beneath which the assailants of his Lordships have ki - o s; z "'Pted to bury them. Without pretending to fathom the Nes which actuated the leader o f t h e ons l aug ht, we may ,_ at the attac k commenced w i t h t h e d eve l o p me nt of the opoor Law Bill—for . the success of which the country is nly indebted to his Lordship's great talents. What the : t et of this att ac k may have been in the metropolis, we know one but in this district we can safely say, that it has had bu t tha n t : ad eney—that of securing his Lordship more firmly 1148 failedver in popular estimation and respect. The attack tess of for for want of two principles essential to the sue tiale.c.t ally effort for ruining a public man at the present t ot for au honest motive in the assailant, and a sufficient rea . t Of the assault • and until the Chancellor deserts the people t ept a giand, they w ' ill not desert him. The failure of the pre epeeatt of ei mPt is gratifying to those who believe in the exist th e Public morality and public gratitude. It shows that and Z Wer of the press is as nothing when opposed to truth and i' a s° ll , and that its shafts, however pointed, fall powerless by : 11110 euous when h ur l e d b y v i ru l e nt captiousness, and guided C r iee---- Western Times. 46„Itr) BRovonAm.—lt would be impossible to describe the 44' 4 and indignation with which the attempts of the Times hmtP_sper, cheered on by the Tory press, to blacken the cha ref7Thof Lord Brougham, have been received by all classes of att: e rs z . in this tow n (T aun t o n). However they may regret at," °L ills errors (and who is without them?), they, one and a kte in the admiration of his talents, and gratitude for his pe o g i a rduous, an d success f u l exert i ons i n th e cause of the kul e P b a ,.., There i s no li v i ng man to whom freedom is so much it d.,: vu; and th at suc h a man s h ou ld b e so foully slandered, to tig r aceful to any press calling itself liberal, and an insult ;,?lation he has befriended. The secret of the hostility of b im „" is the avowed intention of the Noble Lord to tts o f ,[le stamps on newspapers, which will cripple the pro to tnat monopolizing paper, although it will add one more o bligations which the people owe to their Chancellor. Poi l Y it " complete the good work, and all the malice of disap- Ol ter r o eti;. will be vain against the gratitude of a nation.— ' "Ne Journal. BOROUGH OF FINSBURY. e 'or th e .otiovving is a correN statement of the number of voters . Present and two preceding years after each revision . gt. Q., 1832. 1833. 1834. St die s a ,,,,, .... . ~,, a nd St• George BloomsburF 2,010 ... 1,939 ... 2,034 tb ov — A r fe the Martyr and St. Andrew Bt a I",ual's, including Furnival's and St. LP L , s In n 1,303 ... 009 ... I,loo_ i'le, Middlesex 1,436 ... 1,244 ... 1,5'0 epulchre and the Liberty of the SCrerhouse I 1 0 26 219 ... 232 tihtrtarY, Islington t i j ref S affron -hill, Hatton-garden, tibe4-reuts, and Ely-place t., 3 1„/ of Glasshouse-yard and St. Bo- Lb eu-without Aldersnte-street -o 44 ••• 71 ••• i-. til i ert Y of the Bolls '' . q t e°,lo' s Inn . kr "4inn '''''' ................. ••• • • 289 ... 320 ... 313 0 St. J o a n , Stoie . ' Newington '''''''''' 208 ... 216 ... 20 . - 3 4 and St. James, Clerkenwell 2,456 ... 916 ... 1,92( It • Total 10,537 8341 9,373 la st be seen that there is an increase of 1,032 votes since th e , Y e ar, although oneparish ( St. Mary, Islington) exhibits_ e extra d• to te' in or inary reduction of upwards of 700 votes. Th er "se may be attributed to the recent election, and the t illte r curio 4 lll aY discover by the above table what parish took most in , m the electi o n s th e tae To Hamlets, where there has been no excitement , number of register e d voters has decreased. u Nivißsirry INTELLIGENCE. - -- e AU g Amb 1 " 113 " e R , SEPT. 04.—Thev. George John Du elected e of the Assistants of Eton, was last w eek Rev. 1-ILower Master of that school, in the room of the ttiliTtei?dinterT, 11-11:1:,4713' resigned. 11 "‘ 4 aY, the 9th instant, the Rev. Charles Wake! of Clare ball, in this university, was inst.- th , bY commission, to the rectory of Clowne, Derbyshire, e Presentation f the Lord Chancellor. Mr. Whiter 1-1 40 e .nePhew of the late Rev. Walter Whiter, Rector of 41 1 d Norfolk, and formerly . Fellow of Clare hall, p, known in the literary world as the author of the ‘-',.97lnologicon Universale," and other works. Lrl'ilde u nder-mentioned gentlemen were ordained by the : Bishop of Lincoln, at Buckden, on Sunday last, the -4 instant ; DEACONS. Geor ge Coltman, B.A. Brasen-nose coll., Oxford k' llliam . Gale, B. A., St. ' Peter's coll., Camb. F,dw ard Hanson, B. A., Emmanuel coll., Camb. p,rY Low, B. A., St. John's coll., Camb. Frederick Ludlam, B. A., St. Peter's coll. , Camb. Myers 8.A., Fellow of Clare hall , Camb. . 1 11 arles Lucas Reay, 8.A., Queen's coll. , Oxford . j o e i _ n rY Fenwick Skrimshire, 8.A., Cath. hall, Camb. i o n Stor er , A., Trinity hall, Camb. Burnett B. Stuart, M.D., Queen's coll., Camb. r k w ard Thompson, B A. Trin. coll., Camb. ii'" ll Phipps Tanner Wyche, M.A., Queen's coll., Camb. e ellr Y Tuffnel Young, 8.A., Balliol coll., Oxford. "untie' Earnshaw, M.A., St. John's coll. Camb. ; Thomas Ratcliffe, 8.A., St. John's coll., Camb. With Let. d im. from the Bishop (If Ely. Ri c h PRIESTS. J eph e rd Atkinson, 8.A., Trin. coll., Dublin. Betton, 8.A., Christ's coll., Camb. :11 1 ,, ries Hippuff Bingham, Caius coll., Camb. " I nas PhippsAmian Champneys, 8.A., Merton col l., O xford. o eri ek Cookso n , 8.A., Corpus Christi coll., Camb. l[e t Alidgl ey G ar d ner , 8.A., St. John's coll., Camb. IIrY Frederick Hutton, B. A., Trin. coll., Oxford e r , 11 ". Augustus Frederick Phipps, M.A. , Trin. c o ll., J o `4 l trub. Join,:l l3ll R ashdall, 8.A., Corpus Christi coll. , Camb . vv Walter St oc kd a le, B. A., Trin. coll., Camb. Willi . Langton Ward, M. A. , Wad ham coll., Oxford . SPranger White, B. Trim coll., Carnb. 111:aild.e Makings Wimberley, B. A., .St. John's . coll., Camb. i,k a knshop of Lincoln's next ordination will be held at ar e '„ eri ,' on Sunday the 21st of December. Candidates the t l e o l t ll h ire d t send their papers to his Lordship , be f o re ° f N O ovember. 14, Ni t " Gener a l S team Navigation Company'st, et, ivlaii t 4-110 th e Ra mona , from Rotterdam, armed off the Cus lise, at one o'clock, p.m., on the 25th inst. too he Adehol • commences on Monday night with .teti e e ti es 'lay • 'the first of which is founded on a splendid l t il t , t l k , t44' e i. ealled Le JafErrant (the Wandering . Jew) , , , 4 )1 44 , 1 % all Paris. It is metamorphosed here into a a - V2ite . 6'e, romantic spectacle," . and called The Black Hand ; Yates, his clever wife, John ileTit„,ervise and the Pert. for i Sl Smith, and Misses Daly k and Adair, the latter a 86. 4 have parts in it. Tom ins and Pitt have provided a - se, vo,'" W and splendid scenery, and the . new and moveable s e l; n BB4 , ; 1 4 °8 e size and capabilities are twice those of its pr.edteo , p M considering its deficiencies, did N T vo h i e lde c rs h , a :: (2f. tv ° l°` 4 2 ° „ - , Bl :rprisingly. The second novelty, Wi e h th i , ) ,a Daughter's Devotion, is a domestic drama, in talents of the former parties are again displayed, ptieeteetrqsdidnitiofil of h Wilkinson'stae and Mrs. Keeley's. Besides orn_ g the auditory has undergone c „ „ elk :ari e d e t m e be s llishm ' ent. iirrj,r7.-lane and Covent-garden have announced i•- t el v . ,"in g for Wednesday and Thursday next. The . latter, t er - 4 Pe r ete ,d, will commence with Coriolanus, in which cha r). - `andenhoff is expected to appear. Our play-going cha ff be glad t o hear that a reduction of prices is resolved At , h c't quite adjusted. Farren pl ay s for th e Ila • k t Mr. W. Shylock, e fi t „. yrnar e C o tim e , on Saturday, being h ß is u b t e le n r e , fi o t f , _a c t o w v h e i n c t l_i NI ° Per will assist. On Monday Mr. te ' will will l itt b l e e appear as Hamlet ; and,eaorns,Nt\i',eodnpelsedaasya.nwt 4 44 after ado anc •- of n i ne y t e n ' T ° ol , l 4,s s in g mranidielE:atesry,ili Pastoral;iA•hich B w u e c b l: s s t t e o r n e p will s Gesasny 1 444, (11 , 1 1ithew s,sp)art o.n.neand Strick atiHi Myer (Jones s) ; If itigan t (ti ; i V i l g ied Terry's); rs. N , , e amen tss Lo y 'snett will appear in those ori;.ihnialslltyl‘slursst.ailnieudmbbyY e end Mr s . Gibb s . t lieNv tlu ees e Opera-house on Monday night pro ..°4l'. Operetta - of which Alexander Lee is the corn b, V i ctoria In ad opens on Monday the 29th. l'iodq,,ed Traction of the Glass Curtain, a new farce . is to Ala from the pen of Mr. S. A. a-Beckett. It is called Ile 'Pal kith the Carpet Bag," and Mitchell sustains W. R:haracter. The cast also includes Messrs. T ss , and Forrester. be • h Cur t . etxlore Hook's very amusing story of . " Gil- Cellm Y ''' we understand, will be regularly continued in Neu' Monthly Magazine, the October Number F i r g e rn S -' t c h w a lioailsloriscnpri;s:e amo b ng l‘ o i t r h s e . r interesting articles, S. C. Hall—Bubbles eurch,3,lllegtie, b y nig Olda) Highways, by Mrs. Dejeuner a la h iva,verf e ',te , ,by T. a • B yly Recollections of the Author_o t 4l;: r i. ae etb:l Yll :bby, a r . a - t — her !—The Infernal Marria T ge,. by_ 5z e.... ' ... ' -n Anp e er, Part IV., containing the First \ iew of by t hris--...R ea ya to , the Author, from . the Bubbles of the Y a Author. Tale of the Swiss ,, M T o A Poem, at ° ll thl Notioris nrn -I?.w Rhymes —he Poor Scholar— s Y corn__n. Novelties of the Nineteenth Century— elenee, ` 2 . e .t.arY on Men and Things, and Varieties in k;riticism, Politics, Commerce, &c. LITERATURE. FRANCE, SOCIAL, ARY, POLITICAL. By 11. L. B LITER uL IVER, Esq., 111. P. Two vols. Bvo. Bentley, London, 1834. This work is highly valuable, not only from the facts it presents, laboriously collected from a multitude of sources, but as tending to excite a spirit of enquiry a \ nd reflection. Many of the author's views may, no doubt, be erroneous ; but even such errors are not with out their use, since they awaken the attention to sub jects, which, but for these volumes, we are persuaded would have found little notice amongst the majority of English readers. When, for instance, he asserts that knowledge does not prevent crime, basing his po sition on tables illustrative of the relative quan tity of crime and knowledge in the different French provinces, he may be right or he may be wrong ; but, right or wrong, his assumption and his statistics can not fail to supply food for thought and to awake re flection. Nor is this the least of his merits ;he has sugared over the bitter apple of knowledge, and many who would have turned away from the tables of Dupin or Chabrol as something too dry for their sickly appe tites, will sit down to these volumes as to a desert of sweetmeats. His acutest observations are delivered in a gay and familiar tone, as if he feared to seem too profound ; and he is wise in this forbearance, for such is the spirit of the age, at least as it appears in Eng land ; science herself has learnt to tame. down her wrinkles, and, instead of wearing a crabbed face to re pel the light and frivolous, she is now all smiles and blandishments to invite them, and, sometimes even going a step too far, paints and patches, and imitates the mincing gait of that tawdry syren, Romance, thus losing in character what she gains in admiration. The subject of this work may be briefly described as " characteristics" of the French people, founded on the author's personal observation, and upon the tables of the most eminent native statists, both excellent grounds, on which to base a system ; yet, as we shall hereafter see, both occasionally liable to error. The introduction to la belle France—how worthy of the epithet—and the comparison of the entrance by the Thames into London, form a splendid and fitting pro logue to the scenes that are to follow It is by the Thames that the stranger should enter Lon don * * the broad breast of the great river, black with the huge masses that float upon its crowded waters—the tall fabrics, gaunt and drear that line its melancholy shores—the thick gloom through which you dimly catch the shadowy out line of these gigantic forms—the marvellous quiet with which you glide by the dark phantoms of her power into the mart of nations—the sadness, the silence, the vastness, the obscurity of all things around—prepare you for a grave and solemn magni ficence : full upon your soul is shadowed the sombre character of " the golden city ;" deep into your thoughts is breathed the genius of the great and gloomy people, whose gloom and whose greatness are, perchance, alike owing to the restless workings of a stern imagination. Behold St. Katherine's Docks, and Walker's Soap Manufactory 1 and " Hardy's Shades !" Lo ! there is the strength, the industry, and the pleasure—the pleasure of the enterprising, the money-making, the dark-spirited people of England. " Hardy's Shades !" singular appellation for the spot dedicated to festivity * * • * Such is the entrance into London by the Thames. " Let us change the scene, reader !—you are at Paris ! " To enter Paris with advantage you should enter it by the Champs Elysees : visiting for the first time the capital of a military nation, you should pass under the arch, built to com memorate its reign of victories. Coming to dwell among the most gay and light-hearted people in the universe, you ought at once to rush upon them in the midst of their festivities. Enter Paris, then, by the Champs Elysees ! Here are the monuments that speak to you of the great soldiers ; and here the guinguettes ' that display to you the great dancers of Europe. You pass by the old gardens of Beaujon ; you find the caserne ' (and this tells you a good deal of the nation you are come to visit) intermingled with cafes' and salons lit teraires ;' and you see the chairs under the trees, and the open spaces left for the ball ; and if you stop to read an advertise ment, it will talk of the Chevaux mecaniques,' and of the Bal pare' and of the Concert des Champs Elysees,'—and the sun shines upon the golden cupola of the stately Invalides, and on the glittering accoutrements of the sauntering soldier ; and before you are the Tuileries, with their trees and terraces, which yonder misplaced monument * cannot quite conceal ; and to your right are the Seine and the Chamber of Deputies, and to your left the Corinthian architecture of those tall pa laces that form the Rue de Rivoli. The tri-coloured flag floats from the gates of the Royal Garden ; the military uni form, mixed up with the colouring of every passing group, en riches it with its deep-blue and its bright scarlet ; the movement about you is universal ; equigages of all kinds are passing in all directions ; the movement is universal, but differing from that you are accustomed to in England,—the movement is the movement of idleness and of pleasure ; an indescribable mirth reigns in all you see, and the busy gaiety of Paris bursts upon you with the same effect as the glad brightness of Italy. The people, too, have all the habits of a people of the sun ; they are not the people of one stock ; collected in every crowd are the features and the feelings of divers races and different re gions. In Paris you are not in the climate of Paris—France is brought into a focus, and concentrated in the capital you find all the varieties that vivify the many provinces of the king dom. It is this which gives a city of, the North the gracious and agreeable aspect of the South, and transports the manners that are legitimate to the olives and the myrtles of Provence to the elms of the Champs Elysees and the Boulevards. London is the city of the English, as Constantinople is the city of the Turks.—Paris is the city of Europe ; it unites more than any city in the world the wants of a variety of classes, the habits of a variety of people. With the snow you have the sledge of St. Petersburgh ; with the summer the music, the nightly pro menade, the ice, the lemonade, and all—but the sea and the sky of Naples. "I am now at the corner of the Rue de la Paix. It is a beautiful autumnal evening. What a dazzling confusion of colours and images ! white houses, green trees, and glittering lights 1 The rattling equipage rushes by me, the whispering saunterer lounges before me, and the groupe is seated round the cafe;' and the music is far enough away to lose all harshness —and in the back-ground—behold ! the piles of buildings, and the lines of lamps, rising one above the other, and broken at intervals by some dark mass of verdure It is almost impo's- Qible to describe this scene, and as impossible to gaze upon it —without inhaling some portion of the spirit it breathes, with out feeling a character more soft and southern—a ray of light that had not penetrated there before, stealing into the severe and sombre recesses of one's northern imagination. Here it is more especially that the Boulevards justify the old French proverb, which says,—' When le bon Dieu is out of humour , lie opens one of the window's of heaven and recovers his spirits by a glimpse of this long line of trees.' There is certainly nothing that I know of like the Boulevards, in any other city in the world." It has been a fashion in this country to consider France as being infinitely more vicious than under the old regime, and to attribute this encrease of vice to the revolution. This idea, however, is by no means borne out by facts on a comparison of the past with the present. By a calculation of Mirabeau's, it appears that before the Revolution there were forty thousand prostitutes, while now there are six thousand, and fifteen thousand maisons de jeu, while now there are only eight ; so that if any inference at all could be drawn from such data, it would be in favour of the Such a conclusion increasing morality of Paris. would not be unreasonable on other accounts ; corrup tion is the result of excessive wealth and of its natura consequence, the want of occupation ; but the Revo• lution broke up the large landed estates, and scatterer the national riches amongst the people ; it augmented the numbers of the middling class, not only by pulling down the aristocracy, but by raising up a multitude of the lower orders, fusing the whole into one mass, not sufficiently rich to dispense with industry, nor so poor as to be tempted by necessity into crime. Amongst many other pregnant proofs to this fact, we may quote the admirable observation of Mr. Bulwer, that " wealth has lost its antient and aristocratic splendour ; but, in becoming more citizen-like in its air, it has become more complete and finished in its details. The diffu sion of knowledge, the division of fortunes, have des cended and spread tastes, formerly more exaggerated and more confined. The few have lost a habit of ex travagance, the many have gained a habit of expense." It must, however, be confessed, that, if there be not more vice in France than in this country, there is at least mote legitimatized vice, more of that which we are not ashamed to practice but are ashamed t o own, while in Paris it has lost the name of i mmorali ty. There the wife entertains her lover without any offenc e to the national decorum, and left-handed ma r riages are not only tolerated, but the parties lose no caste by the con tracting of them. Mr. Bulwer has treated this ticklish * Egyptian column. TEE SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY, SEPTENIRYO --------- _ subject with s nen a happy delicacy of phrase, that we cannot do better than again refer to his pages for an account and explanation of it : " In a country where fortunes are small, marriages, thop-• far more frequent than with us, have still their limits, sand only take take place between persons who can together make up a suffi cient income. A vast variety of single ladies, therefore, with out fortune, still remain, who are usually guilty of the indis cretion of a lover, even though they have no husband to deceive. Many of these cannot be called s—mp--s in our sense of things, and are honest women in their own. They take unto themselves an affection, to which they remain tole.. rably faithful, as long as it is understood that the liaison continues. The quiet young banker, the quiet young stockbroker, the quiet young lawyer, live until they are rich enough to marry in some connexion of this descrip tion. Sanctioned by custom, these left-handed marriages are to be found with a certain respectability appertaining to them in all walks of life. The working classes have their somewhat famous 4 mariages de St. Jacques,' which among themselves are highly respectable. The working man, and the lady who takes in washing, or who makes linen, find it cheaper and more comfortable (for the French have their idea of comfort) to take a room together. They take a room, put in their joint furniture ; (one bed answers for both;) the lady cooks ; a common menage and a common purse are esta blished, and the couple's affection usually endures at least as long as their lease. People so living, though the one calls himself Mr. Thomas, and the other Mademoiselle Clare, are married d la St. Jacques, and their union is considered in every way reputable by their friends and neighbours during the time of its continuance." Singular as this account must sound to English ears, it is equalled, if not surpassed, by Parisian morality in the times before the revolution, but it is not requisite to rake up the filthy mass for proofs of that which we suspect is too well-known to everybody. According to our author, the vanity of the French both was and is on a par with their licentiousness, for we can give no other name to the habits just described. This, we take it, is one of those vulgar errors which will at times make their way into the acutest minds. With all his pride, the Englishman is just as vain, and the German, if that be possible, is ten times more so than his Gallic neighbour ; not a line of German lite rature but breathes the intensest egotism, and in that country the literature is a reflex of the national feelings to a degree, that will hardly be comprehended by those who are not familiar with its workings. As to the Englishman, if he be not vain, to what other cause shall we attribute his hospitals, his museums, and his thousand endowments, which encumber and pauperize the land ? None but the veriest fool, or the veriest knave, will set them down to the score of charity. The poor dotard, who on his death-bed consigns his natural heirs to beggary, that he may build an hospital or a museum, is neither just nor generous, nor actu ated by good feelings of any kind. The passion which dictates this last exercise of the human will, is neither more nor less than the poorest vanity—a sickly appe- tite for spurious fame—and the lips that drivel out these death-bed foamings are uttering their own con demnation. We should, perhaps, .form a jester esti mate of the French, in saying, not that they are vainer than ourselves or any other people, but that with them vanity takes a different direction, borrowing its colour and bias from the habits of the mind, the climate, and the Government. With us vanity wishes to seem rich—with the German it would seem learned —with the Frenchman it would seem gay and gallant ; but, however disguised, the passion is one and unalte rable. • When, too, Mr. Bulwer imagines that the French, as a natural result of this sentiment, submit readily to the successful despot, but fall from him in the decline of his fortunes, he is evidently again labour- ing under the same mistake in making that particular to a nation which, in fact, is general. It is an idle dream to imagine, as he does, that the English have any peculiar sympathy with " the sinking cause." Our public annals and the records of our private life, tell a different tale, and the very presumption of the thing is only another evidence of our vanity. " C'est bien, c'est tres bien, et tout ce qu'il faut maintenant, ce sont les feux d'artifices et un bon mot pour le peuple." This was a witty saying of the witty Talleyrand, but we question much if it authorizes the system to which it serves as a basis and a motto. Our author thinks that a series of bon mots destroyed the ancient religion and travailled the destinies of the mo narchy. This is carrying the love of a joke far in deed,—much, farther, we think, than the truth w ili warrant. It would be wiser to conclude in the present case as with regard to vanity, that the French differ little, if at all, from their less mercurial neighbours. A joke goes as far with an Englishman as with a Frenchman—with this difference only, that the Eng lish, who are beyond doubt less refined, require their wit to be of a coarser, stronger, and more pungent quality—the Frenchman, with a fine climate (for fi ne it is, notwithstanding any tables to th e contrar y) , with light taxes and with no cares, is easily provoked to mirth; but the muscles, that have grown rigid through the day by anxiety and toil, must be relaxed by more potent applications. But give to an English mob a jest that they can feel and comprehend, and they are as lightly turned by it as the most sensitive Parisian. Indeed, we should say that, of all men, the English are the most keenly alive to the ridiculous. Bulwer " There are many places," says Mr. Bulwer, " where a person can live upon as little, but there is no place where a man can live so magnificently upon little, as at Paris." No one, who is at all acquainted with the capital, will be inclined to dispute this asser tion, which, in a few words, explains the whole mys tery of French living. A Frenchman will have the show, and cares marvelously little for the substance, a natural result of the general feeling of equality. If he dine for twenty-two sous at " La Place de petites Peres," instead of paying eight francs at Very's, lie must still have his soup, his two dishes, his wine, and his desert—no matter for the quality—so that there be no diminution of external appearances. The same feeling makes him prefer enjoying his rent of eighty Napoleons a-year in idleness, to any chance of fortune from industry. And again, it shows itself with the innkeeper, who, if you challenge the correctness of his bill, is like enough, as it appears from this narrative, to amend your want of politeness with a pistol. Where all men are equal, or fancy themselves so , th e p oor man will naturally pay no regard to the wealth which would seem to confer a distinction. He has it not himself, and therefore he treats it as a thing of no va lue. We now come to a most important chapter, the con sideration how far education influences mankind to good or evil. We have already had occasion to ob serve (when speaking in another paper of feLle in struction in this country), that it is not writing, and reading, nor even accomplishments, that will make a good and virtuous citizen, though they tend to increase the sphere of our enjoyment, and are the keys to that moral education front which all substantial benefit is to be derived. Knowledge, like any other useful me dicament, may be abused to the very worst of pur poses ; but we are not for that to deny its power of working good, when properly employed. Mr. Bulwer declares, on the faith of Monsieur Guerry's statistical tables, that while " the crimes against persons are the most frequent in Corsica, the provinces of the south-east and Alsace, where the people are well in structed, there are the fewest of those crimes in Berry, Si mousin a ndßrittany,where the people are most ignorant ;" and he also affirms that as " for crimes against pro , perty, it is almost invariably those departments that are the best informed, that are the most criminal." We agree perfectly with him, that this is by no means con ' elusive of the question, but we are not inclined to con ' cede to his summing up ; according to this, education is an advantage, not because it prevents men from com mitting crimes, but because it adds to their enjoy- 26, 1834. ments. This is p oor compromise with the enemy ; in fact l it iP IN owning to a defeat after having shouted " Io ...ran lf for a victory. That wholesome instruction will lead to good, where the subject is at all capable of good, can hardly, indeed, be denied, even by the most bigotted ; the sole difficulty in the matter is how, when people are once admitted into the garden of know ledge, you shall persuade them to eat only of the wholesome fruit, and eschew the bad—how, in short, those who can read Milton and Newton, shall not leave them untasted for the sake of the vicious and the rotten parts of literature. It must be observed, too, we have not questioned, as perhaps we might have done, Monsieur Guerry's statements, nor availed our selves of Mr. Bulwer's remark that " figures are not facts ;" indeed we consider this to be one of those smart sayings which sound well and mean nothing ; no doubt, false statements may be made by figures as well as by words, but the very essence of figures is truth, the only truth, of which, with our limited un derstandings, we can be assured. We have thus briefly, perhaps too briefly, noticed the " characteristics ;" and we now come to what may be termed the historical portion of the work. With a masterly hand he traces the secret springs of the great revolution, as they lurked amidst the pomp and glitter of the Court, under Louis the Fourteenth, and shows their rapid windings through fields and flowers till they swelled into one mighty torrent that carried every thing before it. But perhaps the whole of this question may be summed up and explained in very few words ; the people were not more oppressed, but they had become more sensible of their oppressions ; increasing com merce had raised up a middling class ; and Louis the Fourteenth, in reducing his nobles from rebellious feudatories to submissive courtiers, had unwisely de molished the chief bulwark between the crown and the populace. The great fault of Louis the Sixteenth is, that he did not keep pace with the progress of the age, a fault that we much fear is again being acted over in this country. The few are prating of the wisdom of our ancestors, and making fresh laws to bolster up old and worn-out institutions, when they should be forming a new building more in . harmony with the wants and wishes of the age. While the people are calling, and loudly calling, for positive rights, they answer them with " vested rights," and. " National faith,"—"panem postalabant et lapides eis condonaverunt"—" they asked for bread and stones we give to them,"—but there is the lesson before us, — the cause and the effects,—in plain intelligible cha racters; and if the country should fall, she cannot plead the same excuse of ignorance which might justly have been pleaded by the French government, when Louis , conceded too little, and too much, to hope for victory. A still more important era opens upon us when we come to the Restoration. Though the eruption, that followed close upon it, has to all seeming ceased, yet the lava is still hot beneath the feet, and it is well worth while to trace up the history of the past in France, if we would rightly understand the present, as it exists with us, and would thus anticipate the future. At the time of Napoleon's fall, the different factions were too powerful for any one of them to remain contented with less than supremacy over its rivals, and nothing but the bayonets of the allied monarchs, it is well known, maintained peace within France. The Napoleonists, the Jacobins, the Constitutionals, the Royalists, were alike impatient of each other's domination, and Louis when the allies had retired from Paris, could only hope to govern by the fear of their return, by decidedly placing himself at the head of one faction, or by balancing the parties against each other. The last, though the most difficult, yet, if skilfully managed, was perhaps the most certain of success; Napoleon might, have adopted the first, as most suited to his decisive genius ; but if Louis wanted energy for the one, he was not less deficient in dexterity for the other ; no thing but an absolute prostration of strength, a sicken ing, and weariness of wars, and revolutions, and a dread of rushing into a fresh contest, while the wounds of the last were yet unclosed and aching, tamed for a while the spirit of the factions. But even this salu- tary feeling lasted no longer than the life of Louis the Eighteenth ; and amidst all the hollow acclama tions that welcomed Charles the Tenth to the throne, it was easy to hear the muttered thunders of a fresh convulsion. This is admirably expressed by Mr. " Strange to say, never was king at the commencement of his reign more popular than the unpopular heir to the throne. With the happy levity of their character, the French forgot the religious prejudices, the constitutional repugnances of the Comte d'Artois on the accession of Charles X. Change it self was no inconsiderable blessing to such a people ; and wearied with a decrepid monarch, swathed in flannel, they delighted themselves in the possession of a King who enjoyed the pre-eminent advantage of bearing himself gallantly on horse back. Charles X. courted popularity, and had in his favour all the external circumstances which procure it. Courteous, dig nified, with a peculiarly royal air, and a singular grace of ex pression, his manner and his conversation were far superior to himself, though it is very erroneous, notwithstanding all his errors, to suppose that he did not possess a certain ability. " I remember being in Paris about this time. It is impos sible to describe the enthusiasm which pervaded it when the abolition of the censorship wound up to the highest pitch the popular excitement. But this enthusiasm, wide as it spread, was neither calculated to last long, nor did it penetrate deep : it was upon the surface of the nation." The first false step of the Monarch was when he interfered with the pleasures of the Parisians, and de scended from the throne to cover the bosoms and lengtheirThe petticoats of the Opera dancers. This was speedily followed by the attempt to carry measure after measure, the most offensive to the French na tion ; indemnity to emigrants, the law of primogeni ture, the law against the press, the disbandment of the National Guards, the new creation of Peers ; all, even when not followed by success, were suffi cient, by the attempt alone, to give a fresh stimulus to the discontent that was fermenting below the surface of things. Without deeming so highly of Monsieur de Villele, as our author does, we should say that he failed in his projects, less from want of ability than from attempting that which, under existing cir- cumstances, was impossible. The education, and the natural bias of the Monarch, favoured despotism; from his earliest youth he was the partizan of arbitrary power, as Philippei was the ostensible advocate of li beral principles ; and it was hardly to be supposed that the possession of a throne , was likely to diminish this sentiment, surrounded as he was by emigrant Nobles, who had learnt nothing, and forgotten nothing, in their exile. All the energies of Villele's mind were directed to the upholding of this system, aided only by the weakest of the factions that then, as now, divided France. He failed, because success was impossible, and was followed by' two Administrations that, in the end, proved not more fortunate than himself. But Mr. Bulwer is wrong in imagining that the new Revolution was now commencing • it had begun when Louis the Eighteenth ascended the throne, and it marched on, not pe r h aps with a steady and equal pace, but unin terruptedly, towards its final catastrophe. The same feeling that had engendered the first R evolution, which had grown up during its progress, and which even the iron rule of Napoleon had been unable to crush, though it might bow down its head into inaction, advanced fearfully from the hour that the restored Bourbons set their foot in Ranee, till, having attained ma turity, it was utterly incompatible with the ex istence of a feudal crown. The two famous or donnances that precipitated matters to a final crisis, must yet be fresh in the memory of most of our readers ; they put down the liberty of the press, and they completely drew out the liberal sting from ;his is an error. the electoral system. It was then the press sounded the tocsin, and the two generations of France, all minor divisions for the moment forgotten, confronted each other—the answer to the ordonnances was the barricades—the cry of " a bas les Bourbons" was raised—the war was actually begun ; in_ the streets of Paris, and " The night came : if it be true as was deemed by Tacitus, that the warrior's mind is overshadowed by the aspect of a disastrous sky ; that stars, dim and pale, infuse into the soul their uncertain hue ; and that the midnight enterprise lan guishes under the omen of a clouded moon ; the citizen sol dier was happy in his auspices ; pure, and bright, and glorious as his own cause, was the heaven above his head, on the night which intervened between the 28th and 29th of July. And now a wide watch is kept throughout the city ; every eye is awake, every hand is in action. Here the pavement is upturned— here the torch is planted—here the weapon is prepared— everywhere you may see the women mingling with the men— now sharing their labours—now binding up their wounds. " No distant and unruly noise mars the mystery of the hour; but there circulates a confused and immense murmur—the can non, the tocsin is still ; the busy gun has ceased to be heard, not a carriage moves ; but the chopping of wood, the rolling of stones, the hammering at arms, the exchange of signals, the march of sentinels, the groans of sufferers, mingling together, form a mass of stifled and solemn sound, more awful, more ter rible, perhaps, in this pause of action, than the loud thunder of artillery, or the crash of careering squadrons. " By the morning there were six thousand barricades in Paris. The great force of the Royal troops was at the Louvre, on the Place du Carrousel, on the Place Louis XV., on the Boulevarde de la Madeleine, and on the Place Ven dome, while cannon was so placed as to sweep the Rue de Richelieu, and the Place du Palais Royal. The day com menced with a proclamation, which declared that hostilities would be suspended by the Royal troops: it produced no effect. The people's courage was animated by the previous day's struggle—by the last night's labours—by the sight of the na tional uniform now mixed up in all their groups, and of the tricoloured flag now flying from all their houses. The bands which had hitherto been scattered and spread through out the town assembled more regularly, and combined their plans of resistance and attack. On, iraront of the Parisians, marched the ardent youths of the Polytechnic School, the stu dents of law and of medicine—and on behind them poured the determined populace--on they poured along one side—down the Faubourg St. Honore, down the Boulevards--on they poured along the other—down the Eaubourg St. Germain, along the bridges--on they poured to the Place Louis XV. ; where the soldiers, fatigued, famished; disgusted with their cause, disgusted with the cowardice of those for whom they fought, still looked with a gallant face on the dark and angry masses which menaced them in all directions." In the whole of this momentous transaction, which ended by placing the Duke d'Orleans on the throne, there is nothing so surprising as the indifference of those about the palace. " In the morning —mass, tho usual ceremonies and recep tions ;—in the evening—the rubber at whist : less anxiety was expressed for the destinies of the nation than for the turn of a card." Of a verity these Parisians are a strange people ; they would eat their dinner on the brink of a volcano with as much relish as at Very's. No human beings live so much in the present and for the present, or trouble their heads so little about the future. On the policy of the new monarch, Mr. Bulwer observes with singular felicity,— " Very few of the French understand their own revolution. They cry out against the juste milieu'. Their revolution, as I have said, was the ' juste milieu.' Louis Philippe was the juste milieu.' If they had expected, through peaceable re presentations, the respect, the attention, the confidence of the despotic Governments of Europe, they should not have taken Louis Philippe ; if they had expected war with those Govern ments, a reign of glory and action, they should not have taken Louis Philippe. If they had expected from the crown the continued perpetual concession of popular rights, they should not have taken Louis Philippe ; for they should not have taken a man with the passions and the ambition of a man. If they had expected tranquillity in the South of France—submission in La Vendee on the one hand, or an abhorrence to hereditary rights, and a detestation of the royal name of France, on the other —they should not have taken Louis Philippe. Directly they chose their sovereign, they ought to have considered that they had traced, for ten years at least, the direction of their revolution. They had chosen the Duc d'Orleans to satisfy those who were against the family of Charles X. They had chosen a Bour bon, in order to reconcile the friends of legitimate succession; they had chosen a monarchy, in order to pacify those who were afraid of a republic ; they had made that monarchy the com mencement of a new era, in order to satisfy the republicans ; and more than all—they had chosen peace in the selection they had made, and evinced a dislike, if not a fear, of war ; and yet there is not one of the parties to whom Louis Phillippe was a compromise, that has not alternately claimed the triumph of its own opinions." It has been usual in this country to consider the Doctrinaires as synonimous with our utilitarians: But " During the time of the Restoration' there was a small party in France, consisting chiefly of young men, affecting to consider the Duc de Broglie as their head, and conducting a paper called the Globe. M. Guizot was their historian, M. Cousin. their philosopher. This party was a party of system, which, laying down certain ideas as the general basis of all good government, admitted few exceptions to its peculiar plan, and, allowing little for time and circumstances, measured by a fixed rule the goodness or badness of all that was meditated or pro posed. It was not a school that answered to that of our utili tarians, since it supported the intrinsic merit or demerit of ac tions, and defended virtues, altogether independent of utility. Its metaphysics were German, its politics English. It com bated the Government of the time by appeals to the reason— and never by appeals to the passions—and from the kind of doctoral tone which it lectured the public, obtained the name, at that time popular, of ' Doctrinaires.' " The influence of women is, as it always has been, more potent in France than in any other country, and to this may in some measure be ascribed the restless ness, the eager appetite for change, which characterize the nation. In the times of the divine rights of kings, Montespan, Maintenon, Dubarry, de Pompadour, more than divided the sceptre with the descendant of Saint Louis. .Amidst the din of this revolution the female voice was heard as loud in the cry for blood as the hoarsest of the male ruffians that shouted round the guillotine ; under the empire, the same influence. often contended with, and sometimes defeated, Napo leon, and the conqueror of Austerlitz could even be overmatched by a roguish milliner; at the fall of the restored Bourbons, it again showed itself in the person of the Duchess de Berri, who wrapt France in blood and flames, and who, like any other murderess, should have paid the forfeit of her crimes upon the scaffold. All this has been clearly seen and ably told by Mr. Bulwer ; but we must confess ourselves not a little startled when he winds it up with something that sounds marvellously like, " Go thou and do likewise," addressed to the English ladies. Heaven forbid that the best and fairest women of Europe should ever change their morality or their complexions for the models of the French salons. Great as is female influence in France, the influence of literature is yet more surprising. In this country the man of letters may be coaxed for awhile and feasted, like any singer or opera dancer—he may be admitted to the halls of the rich and noble—but it is only as a sort of appanage to greatness ; but, even when feared from his connexion with the periodical press, he holds no real rank in society. " I left no calling for this idle trade," said Pope, and up to this present hour litera ture is in the eyes of the English an " idle trade." In France, where the aristocracy of wealth and birth has passed away, the aristocracy of mind has succeeded ; it claims and obtains the same observance that the French formerly paid to birth, and we have ever paid to wealth ; the man of literary talent— " Glides into the cabinet and the boudoir, not in a pow dered wig and an embroidered waistcoat, but bound in.vellum. He does not measure his force or his address with your's, but his intelligence ;—he is the person to admire ; he is the person to fear ; he is the person, in France, which he is nowhere else. He is the person in France that he cannot be in America, for there is no superstition for the arts in America ; the vanity of wealth, the natural consequence of a nation depending wholly on its industry and on its commerce, predominates over the diviner thoughts and more graceful occupation of letters. He is the person in France that he cannot be in Ger many—for in Germany a ' von' before your name is a matter of social necessity ; for in Germany, to be well born,' or to be ' nobly born,' or to be right-nobly born,' is a matter sub mitted to historical rules, and the superscription of a letter de mands the profoundest study, the most accurate knowledge, the nicest distinctions. He is the person in France that he cannot be in England—for, in England, politics is the only passion of the men, fashion the only idol of the women—for, in England, to be a blockhead is far more pardonable than to live in a bad street--for, in England, to have voted against the house and window tax would win you more favour than to have written the profoundest work on legislation." One third of the second volume yet remains un touched, and every page not less valuable than the pre ceding ; but so copious have been our extracts, that we must pass them over without any further notice. Nor SPORTING INTELLIGENCE. TATTERSALL' S. half. 3 subs. shall we waste a single line in commendation, however it may be merited. The quotations from the work are its best, and at the same time its fairest, eulogy. Nothing was done yesterday afternoon, and the only offers on the Grand Duke Michael Stakes were 3 to 1 agst Lord Orford's Paris, and sto 1 agst Mr. Yates's Bentley. Owing to the absence of all the principal betting men at Heaton Park races, the room was very thinly attended. Newmarket First October Meeting commences on Monday next. HEATQN PARK RACES, SEPT. 24. The Stanley Stakes of 10 sovs. each. A.F. 1 subs. Sir J. Gerrard's Billinge, 3 yrs, 9st. 71b...Mr. Burton 1 Captain Byng's na. Orthodox, aged, I Ist. 21b Lord Wilton's br. c. by Camel, 3 yrs, 9st. 71b 3 Lord 11. Grosvenor na. b. f. by Tramp, 3 yrs, 9st. 71b 4 6t04 on Arachne. Won by half a length. A Gold Cup, value 100 sovs., given by the King, added lo a sub scription of 10 sovs. each ; three vrs, 9st. 31b. ; four, lOst. 51b. ; five. 11st. ; six and aged, Ilst. 71b. M ares and geldings allowed 31b. A winner, of a Cup or King's Plate in 1834, 31b. extra ;if two, 51b. ; and a previous winner of the Heaton Park weight for Age Cup, 31b. extra. St. Leger Course. 13 subs. Lord Wilton's Chancellor, 6 yrs Lord Wilton I Mr. Barrow's Catherine, 4 yrs 2 Sir J. Gerard's Billinge, 3 yrs 3 6 to 4 agst Chancellor, and 7 to 4 agst Billinge. Won by a neck. The Heaton Park Stakes of 25 sovs. each, 15 ft., and only five, &c. Mile and a half. 17 subs. Mr. Houldsworth's Titus, 4 yrs, lOst Mr. Burton 1 Mr. Towneley's Westport, 5 yrs, list. 91b. Mr. Osbaldeston's Swing, 5 yrs, list 3 Even on Westport. Won by half a head. The Grand Junction Stakes of 20 sovs. each, h. ft. 4 subs. Lord Wilton's Jenny Sutton colt ... walked over Count Matuszevic was Steward. OSWESTRY RACES, SEPT. 24. A Sweepstakes of 20 ors. each, for three yrs. old. One mile and a Mr. Palin's Zara A Gold Cup, value 100 sore. in specie, by a subscripton of 10 cove. each. Two miles and a quarter. 11 subs. Sir R. Hill na. Mezereon 1 Mr. Cote's na. Traveller The Gentlemens' Subscription Purse of 50 sovs. Heats, two miles. Sir T. Stanley's Young Tarragon 1 1 Mr. Moss's Tiara 3 2 Mr. Wadlow's b. g. by Strephon 4 3 Mr. G. Cooke's Red Rover The Town Subscription Plate of 50/., free for any horse, &c. Heats, one mile and a half. Sir T. Stanley's La Grace 1 1 Mr. Giffard's Miss Charlotte Mr. Moss's Eagle 3 dr Mr. Allanson's Lady Moore Carew 4 dr BRECON RACES, SEPT. 24. The Brecon and Aire Stakes of 20 sovs. each. 6 subs. Mr. Fuller's Nell Gwynne The Ladies' Plate of 50 sovs. Heats. Mr. Fuller's Nell Gwynne Mr. Gough's Lely Mr. R. Powell's Termagant Mr. Tyler's br. 1. by Lusborough 3 dr Mr. Williams's Dauntless 4 dr Match, 100 sovs., two miles.—Mr. Peyton's Frolic beat Mr. Maybery's Spree. The Usk Stakes of. 10 sovs. each, h. ft., with 20 added, for horses not thorough bred. 8 subs. Mr. Gough's Dandina Mr. Mayberry's Polly Hopkins 1 2 2 Match, 50 sovs., two miles.—Mr. St. George's Fatima beat Mr. Disnav's The Admiral. A Stakes of 3 sovs. each, with a Cup added. Mr. R. Powell's Crazy Jack .. Mr. Gough's Useful Mr. Kennedy's The Abbess Mr. Williams's Brecon Youth Heats. 4 subs. 1 1 2 8 3 2 4 4 UPTON-UPON-SEVERN, SEPT. 23. The Ham Stakes of 5 sovs. each, witli, 20 added. Heats, once round, about a mile and a half. 6 subs. Col. Gilbert's Kendal 1 1 Mr. White's b. m. by Grimaldi 2 2 Captain Davies's The Miser Mr. Holland na. Cymbal 3 dr Mr. Higgins's Brilliant The Hunters' Stakes of 5 sovs. each, with 20 added, for horses not thorough bread. Heats, once round and a distance. Gentlemen riders. 6 subs. , Mr. F. W. Price na. Chas seuso 3 1 1 Major Martin na. Witley 1 2 2 Mr. ' Baker's Deceiver 2 3 3 The Yeomanry Stakes was won by Mr. J. Hill's The Colonel, beating Mr. Cotterell's Lucy and Mr Chesterton's Eliza. The Stakes of 3 sous. each, with 10 added, heats, one mile and a quarter, Gentlemen riders, 7 subs., was won by Mr. Hobson's Cy clops, beating Captain Abraham's Newland, Mr. Nave's Tipple Cider, and four others. The Stewards' Purse of 51., added to a subscription of a crown each, for ponies, heats, three quarters of a mile, 4 subs., was won by Mr. Cotterell's pony, beating Mr. Williams's Captain Rock, Mr. Rees's Jessy, and Mr. Benbow's pony. ~_--. 15.1 , WALSALL RAGES, SEPT. 24. A Gold Cup Stakes in specie, by subscribers of 10 sovs. each. Three miles and a distance. 5 subs. Mr. Beardsworth's Independence Walked over A Sweepstakes of 10 sous. each, with 20 soya, added, for horses not thorough-bred. Two miles. 5 subs. Mr. T. F. Sharratt's Buffalo, 3 yrs 1 1 Captain Lamb's Vivian, aged 2 2 Mr. Ongley's Donnington, 6 yrs dis. fall A Sweepstakes of 5 sous. each, with 25 sot's. added, heats once round, was won in three heats by Brother to Derby, beating Mr. Tomes's by Bedlamite, Mr. Warren's Shalot, Mr. E. Peel's b. c. Rutland, and Mr. Jones's c. f. by Pantaloon—all 3-yr-olds. SEPT. 25.—The Members' Plate of 50 sous. for' horses of all ages., heats twice round, was won in three heats by Mr. Beards worth's b. f. by Longwaist, beating Mr. Giffard's b. f. by Tramp, Air. Tomes's b. c. by Bedlamite, General Yates's Juliana, and Mr. Evans's Shelah—all 3-yr-olds. HA STINGS and ST. LEONARD S RA CE S, Sept. 25. The Losing Sweepstakes of 2 sovs. each, with 40 added, was won by Mr. Brown's Pimpkin, 5 yrs. (in four heats), beating Mr. Hodges's Caroline, 4 yrs., Mr. Lambton's Little Rover, 3 yrs., Mr. Saour's Albion, aged, and Mr. Theobald's Stockwell Beauty, 3 yrs. THE MARKETS.-(THIS DAY.) CORN EXCHANGE. This week there are good arrivals of Wheat and Flour, and of other articles moderate quantities are reported. Wheat remains extremely dull of sale, at Monday's terms. In other Grain no va riation from last quotations. Flour meets a very slack demand at former prices. ARRIVALS. Wheat. Barley. 1 Oats. I Flour, 7,170 qrs 4,410.qr5. 5,1110 qrs. 6,240 sacks. - - 6,950 - - 420 610 ---- [rich Foreign SMITHFIELD MARKET. This day's supply of fat Beasts was indifferent, both as to num bers and quality ; of Sheep, Lambs, Calves, and Porkers, mode rately good. The trade with prime Beef and Veal was somewhat brisk, at an advance of from 2d. to 4d. per stone, with the mid dling and inferior kinds, and with Mutton, Lamb, and Pork, dull, at Monday's quotation. Mach Cows, which were numerous, sold very tardily at drooping prices, viz. an useful short-horns, with her small calf, at from 131. 10s. to 151. 10s. ; good ones, at 171. to 181. each. PRICES PER STONE OF 81.8., TO SINE THE OFFALS. s. d. to s. d. Inferior Beasts 2 0 2 Second quality ditto 2 4 2 8 Prime large Oxen 3 8 310 Prime Scots, &c. Large coar e Calves 3 0 310 Prime small ditto 4 0 4 4 Suckling Calves earls lB 1./ 40 I Lambs 4s Od SUPPLY, AS PER CL I Sheep and Lambs 6,380 s d. to s. d. Inferior Sheep 2 6 2 8 Second quality ditto 3 0 3 4 Coarse-woolled ditto 3 6 3 8 Southdown Wethers Large Hogs 3 0 3 8 Small Porkers ... Quarter old Pigs each) 12 0 18 0 to 5s Od per stone .ERK'S STATEMENT. I. Calves. Pigs. I 230 I 470 Beasts. 4SO NENVGATE AND LEADENHALL MARKETS. At per stone, by the Carcass. s d tos d a d tog. d. Beef, inferior. 2 0 2 2 Mutton, inferior 2 2 2 4 middling 2 4 2 6 middling 3 0 3 2 --14 prime large 3 0 3 2 prime 3 4 310 - prime small 1 4 3 6 Pork, large Veal 3 0 4 0 -small 3 6 4 4 Lamb Is 6d. to 4s. 6d. THE UNSTAMPED PRESS OF THE METROPOLIS. —The circulation of the unstamped penny papers published in London has reached an enormous amount. There are now published every Saturday a greater number of these penny papers than there are of those regularly established journals who pay annually a large sum to Government for stamps and advertisement duty. Latterly the proprietors of the un stamped papers seer to have taken it into their heads that they are recognized by the Government, and that their publi cations are legal ; and therefore they adopt every means to give their journals all the features of a regular newspaper, in order to, increase their sale. Formerly these papers were pub lished with some little show of concealment and disguise ; but now they are regularly sold at stated intervals without the least let or hindrance, just the same as the established news papers. Several of those which formerly appeared in the form of a pamphlet, now assume the appearance of a regular newspaper ; and a person at a cursory glance could not ascer tain the difference. Some are five-column papers, the front page composed of advertisements, taken at a low rate, but which, of course, yield a great profit to the proprietors, as no stamp duty is paid by them ; and the other pages are regu larly filled up with the ordinary routine of news, leaders, &c. in fact, they combine every essential of a newspaper. Calcu lations have been made, on good grounds, that the combined circulation of the unstamped papers amounts weekly to more than 300,000 in number. CORONER'S INQUEST.- Yesterday afternoon, M r . Carter and a respectable jury sat at the Greyhound, K enn i ng _ ton common, to inquire touching the death of Mr. Edward Druce, aged 54, a retired tradesman, who terminated his ex istence, by shooting himself with a horse-pistol, at his resi dence, No. 8, Church-street, Kennington. After the evidence of the surgeon who examined the wound had been taken, Miss Davies stated, that she was niece by marriage to the deceased, who brought her up when a child, and wished her about six months ago to be with him. About five minutes before the fatal event, he called her in, when she gave him a glass of water, and he told her that he was very ill, and that he did not think ho should live long. On the day previous, he said that his heart was broken ; on account of his afflictions, and that was more than he could bear. A few days ago the pistol was not loaded. Powder and bullets he had by him for some years. After a short consultation the jury returned e 'verdict of " Temporary insanity." M ~' _ ,~ *~ TE :rte: