The Sun. — London, England, 1830-01-18 00:00:00

bly it'' posed d act' lot 01 üblish called onne l pecis l liabl e last 01 Q; thg ought :ours° , mail. by the se 0 whom a5lll Th e ng 01' rshiPt to be bier ndiso three A mu ° .deuces ersbiP' actin ing the fllO trod ° Mag i/I I on i'l 1 sal e e ; 11111 iaZeild' icitf ) arttle r ‘ whi st for tY nself° ut v f' be I° 011 ors Oh° inor Je ri ' the il l ' 1 to bg lees, be Pi ll encou' i man on ac' . t at tio :cess~r9 i e ust e ' le inVil tandi tnereiP ly sci° mot' s e obT nn sill LO :omin° ; matr me& e Us' that 0 age p' ing enere rt whi desid ly of° Tees. beenv 3d sae world Of 0 ['stoat cwt. i° ray. - ia e pit istr , it 11' )Usn we er ate pretiot live con• rived obvi' eater. tandl part' n bit SHIPPING INTELLIGENCE.-(THIS DAY. FROM LLOYD'S. DEAL, JAN. 17.—Wind S.W.—Arrived from London the Alexander, Anderson, for Calcutta. PORTSMOUTH, 3.11 q. 17.—Wind E.—Sailed the Ana creon, Smith, for Sierra Leone. FALMOUTH, JAN. 15 and I.6.—Wind N.E.—Sailed the Sandwich packet, for Lisbon. WATEaFORD, JAN. 16.—Arrived the Highlander, Dickinson, from Pernambuco ; Williamina, Melvil!e, from Demerara ; and Hylas, Eccles, from St. John's, New Brunswick. Off the Small•, Christina, Hogarth, from Deme rara. The Telemachus, Pain, Lady Ann, Simpson, Ebe nezer and Barbara, Smith, from London to Shields ; William and Ann, Goodall, Louisa Hobson, Binney. hi nod to London, from Sunderland ; Mary, Turnbull, from Berwick to Sunderland, and Nancy, Robert, bound to London, were driven on shore near North Somer coates, with loss of anchors and cables during a heavy gale on the 12th instant. The Eclipse, Dick, from Liverpool to Glasgow, was put on shore near Douglas, Isle of Man, during a pie on the 13th inst. : crew and stores saved. The Alacrity, Dunn, from London to Newcastle, was run on shore on Yarrriouth beach on Saturday morning, leaky, having been on the Barber Sand—crew saved. The Gallego, Savage, bound to London, was totally lost at Faye' the 15th ult. : crew saved. The Asperia, Bennet, from Charleston, was on shore near Harfleur on the 1 lth instant, but was expected to be got off after discharging. TIM MARKETS.-(THIS DAY). ORNEXCAN The ar r i va l s of C grain last week were GE t . olerably good, and of Flour the quantity was fair. This morning the !reit' supplies consist chiefly of a moderate quantity of samples of different kinds of Corn from the surrounding counties. The frost continuing with severity, has again suspended business on our river, and there is in consequence very little doing here to-day, and the prices of all kinds of grain may be reported nominally the same as last Monday. The top price of Flour is unaltered, and there is a brisker sale than of late for other qualities. PRICES Ow BOARD OF sun.. Wheat, Red (old) .... 48s. 70s. 'Beans, Small new ...—s. *-14 Wed ( ite ( NZ o ld)..7Bs. (old) 40s. 455. ) 441. 48s. ----- • ---- Fine......... 50s. 58(.. I • (old) Tick (new)... 27' 30s. Superfine.. 63,. 665, While ( Fine.. Supers Foreign Barley .... • ---- Fine ........... ---t ... Superfine Mal . . --- Nine.......... Pease, Grey ...... ----- Maple White ... ------ Boilers ... . 465. 58s. • 635. 665. 'fine fas. 70s. free 455. 80s. 30s. 345. • 225. 276. • 30s. 328. :345. 365. • 455. Ws. • 58s. 635. • 286. 306. • 30s. 345. 325. 366. :38s. 425. „ - ---- Harrow (new) 30s. 335. (old).. 375. 40s Brant 225. 241. Oats, Feed New lBs. 235. Poland New 20s. 275. Potatoe New ... 255. 30s. Scotch Old —a. —s. Irish l4s. ISs 265. Flour Town (per sack) Ms 603. Seconds 455. 525. North Country 445. 525. Bran •ILAIYALS OF CHAIN IN LONDON DURING LAST WEEK. s- ---- -------------------- ''' " I ';'W a' 4 . . : t ° From Whence. n, ;- Fr. r e, I'D ?. r. 4 : 1 '`-------....---, ——. _- —.— ----- Qrs. Qrr. Qrs. Qrs. Qrs. Qrs. Scks. Aadborongb .... 369 1558 -- -- 15 273 .40 Boston ....... -- -- -- 1166 -- __ __ Brkllingion - -- -- 400 -- -- -- Clay - 500 -- -- -- -- -- ti H ) !;!rh er tB 5 1 42 2063 100 g V? I N Wt . , l .l MI 115 3:31 470 274 Chirosby ....... -- 150 -- 255 -- -- Hull., - -- -- 400 -- 10 -- loanch 217 616 1312 -- 220 95 1090 t Lynn ......... -- 46 -- -- 272 -- -- Poole ... . - 24 -- -- -- 28 S outhyr4l 2 - 4 - 2 . 864 -- -- 44 46 -- Stockton .... -- - -- -- -- - 50 Wells -- 45° -- -- -- -- :- 47°111147 ii8C ....... : 2;1.1 12; . 4 . ; I T- ' 2 7 ) -s't-i 32 ;0 Yarmouth - 85 Ms -- -- -- 2866 Aberdeen - -- -- 175 -- -- Banff -- -- '24 -- -- -- ltundee := -- -- 7 . ,',A -- -- -- trerness - -- -- --- -- -- -- 5108 8409 4953 5854 2393 1663 7467 lataa. Cork 290 200 -- 1520 -- -- -- Dtblin - -- -- 1000 -- Dundalk B6 O- -- Cialtway __ __ -- 5150 ..- -- -- Kilrush Limerick - -- -- 7350 -- -- , 230 Waterford - -- -- 1300 -- -- Iroughall - -- -- 1200 -- -- -- Fortatart. Havre - ' '-- -- '-- -- -- -- NeYorLeghorn . . ...... 1570 -- -- -- -- -- -- vr k - -- -- -- -- -- 10 Total 6953 8609 4953 25634 2393 1663 7707 •OCIAZGATZ Rye, 92—Tares, 6953 I QUA x•. MITT ( inseed, astard, I 4953 OTH 1965-E ZR 111 lapesee is. DS 01 1663 PULS' •Break M. c, 0-- SMITHFIELD MARKET. This day's market exhibited a good supply of beasts, and was moderately well supplied with sheep, salves, and porkers; but the weather being favourable to slaughtering the carcass market and butchers' shops were pretty clear of their last week's meat, and the assemblage of buyers rather numerous; the trade was, with most kinds of stock, tolerably brisk, with beef at an advance of 4d., mutton and pork, 2d. per stone, and veal at Thursday's prices. PRICES PER STONE OF SLIM TO SINK THE OFFALS, d. s. d. I nferior Beasts a. 2 d. 4to t. 2 d. s. 8 Large Lambs Second quality ditto 2 8 3 2 Prime small ditto 0 0 0 0 Prime large Oxen... 38 3 0 Large coarse ( 'aloes 40 4 4 Prime Scots, &e.. ... 4 0 4 4 Prime small ditto.,. 5 0 5 4 Inferior Sheep 2 4 261 m Large Hogs 3 6 310 Coar Second quality ditto 28 3 2 Sall Porkers 4 2 4 6 se-woolled ditto 310 4 21 Suckling Calves 12s to 325. each. Bou thdownWethers 4 2 4 61 Quarter old Pigs 12s to 16s. each. SUPPLY, •s PER CLERK'S STATEMENT. Beasts. 1 I Sheep, 2,784 17,210 I Calves. 106 22 I Pi Rs o • About 1400 of th e b easts came up the orth Roads ; about 850 from th e western and midland d i str i cts ; a b out 650 from Kent Norfo and lk, Suffolk, Essex, an d Cambridgeshire ; about 80 f rom Sussex • and most of the remainder from the marshes, tkc in the neighbo ur hoo d of Lond on. 4 NEWGATE /---iT--------:-"-----1) LEADENHALL MARKETS. At per atone, by the Carcass. S. d. to s. r. s. el. to s. d. t,t: .................... 2 4 3 6 Veal 30 4 6 into .... ............ 2 6 310 Pork THU FUNDS.-(THIS DIT.) CITY, TIVEL TB 0' CL 0 CI. The contrary winds, with the severity of the weather, perreventit our having any arrivals this morning, with the ce e o l3 , -° 3 ° f 111 ! Flanders Mail. ° left off on Saturday at 95i for the Ac tour, no at the same mice, and may be quoted 951 forwa r 14 d. me n ext time 95i 96, with little speculati on go i ng hu ll:e Forei gn Market is also void of interest ; nothing yet been dose in the new French Scrip, the specu .4 411 are waiting for the arrival of Mr. Rothschild, who e A-A .* • XPeCKU tots day. 411iiNGL1SH FUND& 4 Stosk, 218 19 31 per Cent. 100 H itI 'll& Stock, 230 f 31f a New 4 per Cent., 1011 i hper Cnnt. Gins. 94 4 per Cent. 1826 105 i 6 ', 1 ?.) for Account, 95f India Bonds, 73 74 uitte Redneed, 94 1 f Exchequer Bills, 76 77 TWO O'CLOCK. k A large lot of Consols were done in the course of the I, °r oilig at 95f for the Account, since which the market 24 r eillrned its former price, 95f buyers, and 95i 96 for ',it time. 1 the Foreign Market little or nothing doing. t t l o tePort says, it is decided by Government that Prince Pold is to go to Greece. TRRIIII O'CLOCK. .1111se1s for Amount, 95f. F OUR O'CLOCK.—CLOSING PRICES. I ° o 4 . '°lll 94 Danish for Ac. 95f i Greek, 1825 34 lit t , i lian Bonds 72 Mexican, 1825 27} 4el lo Oh il , s Ayres Peruvian 20/ Col'allilith Do. Russian 1101 ian 1824, 251 , Spanish 11f V: bq t Yl3 COUllt SIDMOUTH had interviews with the pt of WELLINGTON on Saturday, and also on Friday. Li t VESEY FITZGERA LD i s re c o vering from Zdispositi on . and s deputation f rom th e W es t I n di a M erc h an t s s at „l ancers waited on the Duk e o f W ELLI N GT ON, o n at the Treasury. Th e M arqu i s o f C HANDOS , a s 410 1 an of the Committee of West India Merchants and 4 t r% headed the deputation, having come to town from t , at at Wotton, Bucks, on purpose to attend the con -90,1),4' The agent for J a m a i ca , an d M r . K EITH 0 1 0 1 , 1463 ) M.P., were among the Members. The depu- NWere introduced to the Noble Duke, who was 11\ Vknied by th e S ecre t ary o f St ate f or t h e C o l on i a l 11 )etit, and CNANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER.— kOterview with the Ministers lasted a considerable MAD DOCTORS. TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN. Slll,—The subject of insanity, and those sa pient personages t hat have been so facetiously de nominated Mad Doctors, having been the object of just and general comment by yourself and brother Editors of the Daily and Weekly Press, permit me respectfully to call your attention to one of the most important defects in the present system of me dical education, viz., the total neglect of the study of mental diseases in this kingdom, notwithstanding we have two metropolitan establishments for the re ception of lunatics—l mean New Bethlehem and St. Luke's Hospitals, which, according to the truly valuable report recently published by Sir Andrew Halliday, contain about 600 patients throughout the year; and, although one of the physicians is a public teacher on the theory and practice of medi cine, yet I am credibly informed that he never im parts any information to his pupils on the subject, and, in fact, with one or two solitary exceptions, the instruction of insane maladies is a subject deemed unworthy of thought by medical lecturers, and consequently medical men are ignorant of those symptoms that :actually indicate the :different de grees of insanity ; therefore it is no wonder that an eccentric person should be considered a madman, and consequently become the inmate of a place thousand times worse than a gaol. That they are so, can be proved by public documents ; neither must it create surprise that the treatment of an insane personage should become the almost exclusive property, of, if I may use the term, of one or more unprincipled quacks, who, in all probability, understand as much about the ma lady they pretend to cure, as their friends, Messrs. Lady and Co., do about the afflicting diseases whose permanent relief they attempt. Accordingly I have read with considerable pleasure that the Lord Chancellor has adopted Sir Andrew Halli day's suggestion, in calling for a return of the num ber of insane persons actually cured in private lu natic receptacles, in which I am afraid but few will be found, as it is to the proprietor's interest to keep them mad as long as he can receive the pay for their maintenance. This, Sir, is an evil that is justly complained of; and, with the exceptions of the writings of Drs. Spurzheim, Slade Knight, and the continental authors, nothing valuable has ap peared as the result derived from the practice of the physicians to the public and private lunatic institu tions. From what does it arise, then, that the me dical public are not made acquainted with the expe rience of these gentlemen ? Doe: it arise from igno rance or indifference? Probably a. little of both ; and then it becomes an object of inquiry how far these men are useful to mankind. This question will be answered by the returns to the Lord Chan cellor's order. Having pointed out the necessity of medical men possessing a knowledge of the most afflicting dis eases that attack the frame of man, it remains for me to point cut the means of the medical practi tioner obtaining this requisite information. The following plan will answer the purpose, although, perhaps, not altogether the most palatable to the gentlemen in question : First,—Let the Royal Colleges of Physicians and Surgeons, the Examiners of the Apothecaries' Com pany, require candidates for their respective diplomas to produce testimonies of their actual at tendance on the lectures and practice of the public lunatic asylums, and, before they grant the diploma, give the student two or three hours' examination into the cause, nature, and treatment of mental diseases. Secondly,--That the Government take the ma nage►nent of these and all charitable institutions under their contrail!, as I believe is done in France. Thirdly,—That the Government appoint an nually Medical Officers to these institutions, who shall undergo the ordeal of a public examination by a cer tain number of Commissioners appointed for that purpose. Fourthly,—That these Medical Officers shall de liver daily, in a Theatre belonging to the Hospital, a lecture on the nature and treatment of one or more of those diseases denominated insane; and that every person connected with the science of me dicine shall be allowed to attend these lectures gratuitously. Fifthly,—As some knowledge of this subject would be beneficial to those persons who generally constitute juries i■ Commissions of Lunacy, a po pular course, 'divested as much as possible of tech nical jargon, be given gratuitously to all who chose to attend. Sixthly,--As this duty would occupy much time on the part of the Professor, a suitable salary be paid him from the Hospital funds. Had something like the above existed, and me dical men known the difference between eccentricity, fear, and madness, I doubt whether the inquiry re specting Mr. E. Davies, and others I could mention, would ever have been thought of. I have to apologise for the length of this letter, and shall feel honoured by its being inserted by yourself, and copied by your contemporaries. I have to remain, Sir, Your obedient servant, H. W. I)EWHURST, Surgeon, Lecturer on Human and Comparative Anatomy. Jan. 15, 1830. P. S. It is admitted by the most eminent phy sicians who are acquainted with the nature of insane diseases, among whom I may mention Sir Andrew Halliday (through whose private, but laborious exertions, I believe the late Act of Parliament was procured), that all these maladies are curable, espe cially in their early stages. ---- JEFFERSON.—The Memoirs and Correspon dence of this celebrated individual who figures so promi nently in Transatlantic annals are now completed by the publication of the third and concluding volumes. It has been observed by a contemporary critic that " without these Memoirs the history of our own country, during a remarkable period, is extremely deficient." Among the Correspondence we observe letters to the following well known individuals :—Gen. WasittxGrow—T. ADAMS— Drs. FRANKLIN, JAMES, MADISON—Capt. JOHN PAUL JONES—Madame Da STAEL HOLSTEIN—JOHN JAT— CHARLES PINCKNEY—Emperor of Monocco—Colonel MONROE—Gen.KOSCIUSKO—T. PAINE—Count DR FLO RIDA BLANCA—COI. PICKERING—Madame NECKER— Governor Moans—Dr. JOSEPH PRIESTLEY—GeneraI DEARBORNE, &C. &C. DIABOLICAL OUTRAGE.—The sudden and unaccountable disappearance of a respectable young man from Woodhouse, about six weeks ago, who bas never since been heard of, has spread suspicion that the prac tices of BURKE and HARK are not confined to Edinburgh, but have extended to Leeds; and the fallowing alarming occurrence, which took place on Wednesday evening last, has greatly increased this suspicion. Between six and seven o'clock in the evening of that day, as JOHN Bort- Lxr, 23 years of age, a quarryman, was passing along the road from the Shoulder of Mutton public house, at Chapletown, towards his own house at Potternewton, two men came up to him suddenly, and, without speaking a word to him, one of them struck him a violent blow under the ear, by which he was so much stunned as to fall upon the road. Instantly a large piece of rag was forced into his mouth, so as to deprive him of the'power of speech, and almost at the same moment a sack was pulled over his head, and drawn so tightly round his body as completely to pinion his arms. In this situation he was carried along the lane to Potternewton, on the men's shoulders, when a woman, who was standing at her door, heard a moan proceed from the sack, which awakened her suspicions, and she set up a loud scream. This cry brought .out some others of the neighbours, when the men, finding them selves closely pursued, threw the sack with its contents over an adjoining wall, six feet high, and instantly made their escape. On opening the sack, which was done im mediately, it was discovered that BURLEY had been en closed in it, and when taken out he remained speechless, and was in such a state of exhaustion as scarcely to be able to stand. On more particular examination it was found that he was gagged, and his face had the appearance of that of a man in a state of suffocation. The rag being re moved, BURLEY gave the above account of this mysterious affair, and added, that he believed it was the intention of the men by whom lie had been so cruelly treated to Burke him. This horrible transaction has excited great alarm in this town and neighbourhood, and a strict search is making after the delinquents.--Leede Mercury. MOORE'S LIFE OP BYRON. We give the following extracts from this work—the exceedingly interesting nature of which will form sufficient apology for their length, and we shall speak more in detail respecting it to-morrow : " On my rejoining him in town this spring (1F.13) , I found the enthusiasm about his writings and him self, which I had left so prevalent, both in the world of literature and of society, grown if any thing still more general and intense. In the immediate circle, perhaps, around him, familiarity of intercourse might have begun to produce its usual disenchanting effects. His own liveliness and conversation, on a more intimate acquaintance, would not be long in dispelling that charm of poetic sadness, which to the eyes of distant observers hung about him ; while the romantic notions, connected by some of his fair readers with their past and nameless lovers, alluded to in his Poems, ran some risk of abatement from too near an acquaintance with the supposed objects of his fancy and fondness at present. A poet's mis tress should remain, if possible, as imaginary a being to others as, in most of the attributes he clothes her with, she has been to himself; the reality, however fair, being always sure to fall short of the picture which a too lavish fancy has drawn of it. Could we call up in array before us all the beauties which the love of Poets has immortalised, from the high born dame to. the plebeian damsel—from the Lauras and Sacharissas down to the Chloes and Jeannies— we should, it is to be feared, sadly unpeople our imaginations of many a bright tenant that poesy has lodged there, and find, in more than one instance, our admiration of the faith and fancy of the wor shipper increased by our discovery of the worthless ness of the idol. " But whatever of its first romantic impression the personal character of the Poet may, from such causes, have lost in the circle he most frequented, this disappointment of the imagination was far more than compensated by the frank, social, and engaging qualities, both of disposition arid manner, which, on a nearer intercourse, he disclosed, as well as by that entire absence of any literary assumption or pedan try, which entitled him fully to the praise bestowed by Sprat upon Cowley, that few could ' ever dis cover he was a great Poet by his discourse.' While thus by his intimates, and those who had got, as it were, behind the scenes of his fame, he was seen in his true colours, as well of weakness as of amiable ness—on strangers, and such as were out of this immediate circle, the spell of his poetical character still continued to operate; arid the fierce gloom and sternness of his imaginary personages were, by the greater number of them, supposed to belong, not only as regarded mind, but manners, to himself. So prevalent and persevering has been this notion, that in some disquisitions on his character, published since his death, and containing otherwise many just and striking views, we find in the professed portrait drawn of him such features as the following :- 4 Lord Byron had a stern, direct, severe mind; a sarcastic, disdainful, gloomy temper. He had no light sympathy with heartless cheerfulness ; upon the surface were soreness, discontent, displeasure, ill-will. Beneath all this weight of clouds and dark ness.' * &c. " Of the sort of double aspect which he thus presented, as viewed by the world arid his friends, he was himself fully aware ; and it not only amused him, but, as a proof of the versatility of his powers, flattered his pride. He was, indeed, as I have al ready remarked, by no mean.; insensible or inatten tive to the effect he produced personally on society; and though the brilliant station he had attained, since the commencement of my acquaintance with him, made not the slightest alteration in the unaffect edness of his private intercourse, I could perceive, I thought, with reference to the external world, some slight changes in his conduct, which seemed indica tive of the effects of his celebrity upon him. Among other circumstances, I observed, that whether from shyness of the general gaze, or from a notion like Livy's, that men of eminence should not too much familiarise the public to their persons t, he avoided spewing himself in the mornings, and in crowded places, much more than was his custom when we first became acquainted. The preceding year, be fore his name had grown so rife and celebrated,' we had gone together to the Exhibition at Somerset house, and other such places 4 and the true reason, no doubt, of his present reserve in abstaining from all such miscellaneous haunts, was the sensitiveness. so often referred to, on the subject of his lameness-- a feeling which the curiosity of the public eye now attracted to this infirmity by his fame could riot fail, he knew, to put rather painfully to the proof. " At this time (1813) Lord Byron commenced a Journal, or Diary, from the pages of which I have already selected a few extracts, and of which I shall now lay as much more as is producible before the reader. Employed chiefly—as such a record from its nature must be—about persons still living and occurrences still recent, it would be impossible of course to submit it to the public eye, without the omission of some portion of its contents; and un luckily, too, of that very portion which, from its re ference to the secret pursuits and feelings of the writer, would gratify the most lively and piquant curiosity of the reader. Enough, however, will, I trust, still remain, even after all this necessary win nowing, to enlarge still further the view we have here opened into the interior of the poet's life and habits, and to indulge harmlessly that task, as gene ral as it is natural, which leads us to contemplate with pleasure a great mind in its undress, and to rejoice in the discovery so consoling to human pride, that even the mightiest, in their moments of ease and weakness, resemble ourselves. " Journal begun Nov. 14, 1813. " If this had been begun ten years ago, and faithfully kept Heigh° I There are too many things I wish never to have remembered, as it is. Well—l have had my share of what are called the pleasures of this life, and have seen more of the European and Asiatic world than I have made a good use of. They say' virtue is its own reward' —it certainly should be paid well for its trouble.— At five and twenty, when the better part of life is over, one should be something ; and what am I ?-- Nothing but five and twenty, and the odd months. What have I seen ? The same men all over the world—aye, and women too. Give me a Mugu& man, who never asks questions, and a she of the same race, who saves one the trouble of putting them. But for this same plague—yellow fever, and Newstead delay, I should have been by this time a second time close to the Euxine. If I can overcome the last, I don't so much mind you: pes tilence; and at any rate the spring will see me there—provided I neither marry myself, nor un marry any one else in the interval. I wish one was • . . . I don't know what I write. It is odd I never set myself seriously to wishing without at taining it—and repenting. I begin to believe with the good old Magi, that one should only pray for the nation, and not for the individual; but on my prin ciple this would not be very patriotic. " No more reflections. Let me see—last night I finished Zuleika, my second Turkish Tale. I believe the compositio n o f i t k ept me a li ve —f or i t was written to drive my thoughts from the recol lection of 'Dear sacred name, rest ever unrevealed.' At least even here my hand would tremble to write it. This afternoon I have burnt the, scenes of my commenced Comedy. I have some idea of expire * Letters On the character and poetical genius of Lord Byron, by Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart. t Continuos aspectus minus verendos magnos hominea facit.' t ' The only peculiarity that struck me on these occa sions, was the uneasy restlessness which be seemed to feel in wearing a hat—an article of dress which, from his con stant use of a carriage while in England, he was almost wholly unaccustomed to, and which after that year I do not remember to have ever seen upon him again. Abroad he always wore a kind of foraging cap.'l torating a romlneo, or rather a tale in prose ; but what romal.ve ottld equal the events— . . . . vidi EE quorum pars magna fui.' " To-day Henry Byron culled on me with my little cousin Eliza. She will grow up a beauty and a plsEue ; but in the tuctatime, it is the prettiest child ! dark eyes, and eye-lashes black and long as the wing of a raven. I think she is prettier even than my niece Georg na. Yet, I don't like to think so, neither; and though older, she is not so clever. " ' Mena. I must get a toy to-morrow for Eliza, and the device for the seals of myself and . . . Mem., too, to call on the Stael and Lady Holland to-morrow ; and on . . who has advised me (with out seeing it, by the bye) not to publish ' Zuleika I believe he is right,. but experience might have taught him that not to print is physically impossible. No one has seen it but Hodgson and Mr. Gifford. I never in my life read a composition, save tollodgson, and he pays mein kind. It is a horrible thing to do so too frequently; better print, and they who like may read, and if they don't like, you have the satisfac don of knowing that they have at least purchased the right of saying so. " I have declined presenting the Debtor's Peti tion, being sick of Parliamentary mummeries. I have spoken there ; but I doubt my ever becoming an orator. My first was liked; the second and third—l don't know whether they succeeded or not—l have never yet set to it con amore; one must have some excuse to one's self for laziness or inability, or both, and this is mine—s company, villainous company bath been the spoil of me;' and then I have drunk medicines' not to make me love others, but certainly enough to make me hate myself. " "rwo nights ago, I saw the tigers sup at Ex eter Change. Except Veli Pacha's Lion in the Morea—who followed the Arab keeper like a dog— the fondness of the hyaena for her keeper amused me much, Such a conversazione ! There was a' Hip popotamus' like Lord L 1 in the face; and the Ursine Sloth' bath the very voice and manner of my valet—but the tiger talked too much. The elephant took and gave me my money again—took off my hat—opened a door—trunked a whip— and behaved so well, that I wish he was my butler. The handsomest animal on earth is one of the panthers; but the poor antelopes were dead. I should hate to see one here—the sight of the camel made me pine again for Asia Minor. 'Oh quando to aspiciam ?' • • • • • • • " ' November 16th. " ' Went last night with Lewis, to see the play of Antony and Cleopatra. It was admirably got up, and well acted—a salad of Shakspeare and Dryden. Cleopatra strikes me as the epitome of her sex— fond, lively, sad, tender, teazing, humble, haughty, beautiful, the devil I—coquettish to the last, as well with the ' asp' as with Antony. After doing all she can to persuade him that—but why do they abuse him for cutting off that poltroon Cicero's head ? Did not Tully like Brutus, it was a pity to have spared Antony's, and did he not speak the Philip pics ?—and are not tverds things,' and such 'words' very pestilent 'things' too ? If he had had a hundred heads, they deserved (from Antony) a rostrum (his was stuck up there)—a piece—though, after all, he might as well have pardoned him, for the credit of the thing. But to resume :—Cleopatra, after se curing him, says,' yet go," it is your interest,' &c. How like the sex;—and the questions about Octavia —it is woman all over. " < To-day received Lord Jersey's invitation to Middlesex—to travel sixty miles to meet Madam . . I once travelled three thousand to get among silent people ; and this same lady writes oc tavos, and talks folios. I have read her books— like most of them, and delight in the last; so I want to hear it as well as read. " Read Burns to-day. What would he have been if a patrician? We should have had more polish—less force—just as much verse, but no im mortality—a divine and a devil or two—the which had he survived, he might have lived as long as Sheridan, and outlived as much as poor Brinsley. What a wreck is that man ;—and all from bad pilot age; for no one had better gales, though now and then a little too squally. Poor dear Sherry ! I shall never forget the day he and Rogers and Moore and I passed together; when he talked and we listened, without one yawn, from six till one in the morning. " Got my seals Have again for got a plaything for via petite cousin Eliza; but I must send for it to-morrow. I hope Harry will bring her to me. I sent Lord Holland the proof of the last ' Giaour,' and the Bride of Abydos. He won't like the latter, and I don't think that I shall long. It was W ritten in four nights to distract my dreams from . . Were it not thus, it had never been composed ; and had I not done something at that time, I must have gone mad, by eating my own heart—bitter diet ! Hodgson likes it better than the Giaour,' but nobody else will, and he never liked the fragment. lam sure, had it not Leen for Mur ray, that would never have been published, though the circumstances which are the ground-work make it . . . heigh ho ! " To-night I saw both the sisters of . .; my God ! the youngest so like ! I thought I should have sprung across the house; and am so glad no one was with me in, Lady H.'s box. I hate those likenesses—the mockbird, but not the nightingale—so like as to remind, so different as to be painful. One quarrels equally with the points of resemblance and of distinction. " November 17th. " No letter from . .;—but I must not com ' plain. The reputable Job says----' Why should a living man complain ?' I really don't know, except it be that a dead man can't; and lie the Patriarch did complain, nevertheless, till his friends were tired, and his wife recommended that piteous pro logue, Curse -- and die; the only time I sup pose, when but little relief is to be found in swear ing.' I have had a most kind letter from Lord Holland, on The Bride of Abydos,' which he likes, and so dots Lady H. This is very good-natured in both, from whom I don't deserve any quarter. Yet I did think at the time that my cause of enmity pro ceeded from Holland House, and am glad I was wrong, and wish I had not been in such a hurry with that confounded Satire, of which I would sup press even the memory; but people, now they can't get it, make a fuss, I verily believe out of contra diction. " George Ellis and Murray have been talking something about Scott and me, George pro Scoto, and very right too. If they want to depose him, I only wish they would not sit me up as a competitor. Even if I had my choice, I would rather be the Earl of Warwick than all the Kings he ever made I Jeffrey and Gifford I take to be the monarch-makers in poetry and prose. The British Critic, in their Rokeby Review, have presupposed a comparison, which I am sure my friends never thought of, and W. Scott's subjects are injudicious in descending to. I like the man —and admire his works to what Mr.Braham calls Entusymusy. All such stuff can only vex him, and do me no good. Many hate his politics (I hate all politics) ; and here, a man's politics are like the Greek soul—a n 51 ' 6:4001—besides God knows what other soul ; but their estimate of the two generally go together. • • • • • * • " ' I wish I could settle to reading again —my life is monotonous and yet desultory.' I take up books, and fling them down again. I began a comedy, and burnt it because the scene ran into reality ;—a novel for the same reason. In rhyme I can keep more away from facts ; but the thought always runs through, through . . . yes—yes, through. I have a letter from Lady Melbourne, the best friend I ever had in my life, and the cleverest of women. • __ • • • • • • • s " Called on C . . to explain . . She is very beautiful, to my taste at least; for on coming from abroad, I recollect being unable to look at any woman but her—they,were so fair, and unmeaning, and blonde. The darkness and regularity of her features reminded me of my 'Jannat al Aden.' But this impression wore off; and now I can look at a fair woman without longing for a Houri. She was very good tempered, and every thing was explained. " Mr. Murray has ofTered me one thousand guineas for the Giaour' and the Bride of Abydos.' I won't—it is too much, though I am strongly tempted, merely for the say of it. No bad price for a forttlight's (a week each)—what? the gods know —it was intended to be called poetry. " I have dined regularly to-day, for the first time since Sunday lastthis being Sabbath too. All the rest tea, and dry biscuits—six per diem. I ►wish to God I had not dined now ! It kills me with heaviness, stupor, and horrible dreams; and yet it was but a pint of bucellas and fish.* Meat I never court, nor much vegetable diet. I wish I were in the country to take exercise, instead of being ob liged to cool by abstinence in lieu of it. I should not so much mind a little accession of flesh—tfiy bones can well bear it. But the worst is, the devil always comes with it, till I starve him out—and 1 will not be the slave of any appetite. if Ido err, it shall be my heart at least that heralds the way. Oh, my head, how it aches !—the horrors of diges tion ! I wonder how Bonaparte's dinner agrees with him. • • • • • . . " ' Rogers is silent—and, it is said, severe. When he does talk, he talks well; a.id on all subjects of taste, his delicacy of expression is pure as his poetry. If you enter his house—his drawing-room—his library—you of yourself say this is not the dwelling of a common mind. There is not a gem, a coin, a book thrown aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his table, that does not bespeak as almost fastidious elegance in the possessor. But this very delicacy must be the nursery of his existence. Oh, the jar rings his disposition must have encountered through life! " Southey, I have not seen much of. His ap pearance is Epic; and he is the only existing en tire man of letters. His manners are mild, but not those of a man of the world, and his talents of the first order. His prose is perfect. Of his poetry, there are various opinions : there is perhaps too much of it for the present generation ; posterity will probably select. ►le has passages equal to any thing. At present he has a party but no public— except for his prose writings. The Life of Nelson is beautiful. . . . is a Litarateur, the Oracle of the Coteries, of the . . .'s, L— W— (Syd ney Smith's Tory Virgin'), Mrs. Wilmot (she at least is a swan, and might frequent a purer steam) 4 Lady B-- and all the Blues, with Lady C— at their head—but I say nothing of her—' look in her face and you forget them all,' and every thing else. Oh,:that face l—by ' te Diva patens Cypri,' I would, to be beloved by that woman, build and burn another Troy. " ' M—e has a peculiarity of talent, or rather talents—poetry, music, voice, all his own; and an expression in each which never wag, nor will be possessed by another. But he is capable of still higher flights in poetry. By-the-bye, what humour, what—every thing in the Post Bag !"lhere is nothing M—e may not do, if he will but seriously set about it. In society he is gentlemanly, gentle, arid altogether more pleasing than any individual with whom lam acquainted., For his honour, principle, and independ,nce,hii conduct to . . . speaks trumpet-tongued ! He has but one fault— and that one I daily regret—lie is not here. . . " 12 Mazze Notte. " Just returned from dinner with Jackson (the Emperor of Pugilism), and another of the Select at Crib's, the Champion's. I drank more than 1 like, and have brought away some three bottles of very fair claret—for I have no head-ache. We had Tom . . up after dinner ;—very facetious, though somewhat prolix. He don't like his situation— wants to fight again —pray Pollux (or Castor if he was the miller) he may ! Tom has been a sailor—a coal heaver—and some other genteel profession before he took to the cestus. Tom has been in action at sea, and is now only three-and-thirty. A great man ! has a wife and a mistress, and conversations well—bating some sad omissions and misapplications of the aspirate. Tom is an old friend of mine; I have seen some of his best battles in my nonage. He is now a publican, and, I fear a sinner ;—for Mrs. . . is on alimony, and S. .'s daughter lives with the Champion. This . . told me.— Tom, having an opinion of my morals, passed her off as a legal spouse. Talking of her, he said, ' she was the truest of women ;' from which I im mediately inferred she could not be his wife, and so it turned out. "' These panegyrics don't belong to matrimony; for, if ' true,' a man don't think it necessary to say so; and if not, the less he says the better. . . is the only man, except . . . . I ever heard harangue upon his wife's virtue; and I listened to both with great credence and patience, and stuffed my handkerchief into my mouth when I found yawn ing irresistible. " • a • • • • • Redde the Ed. Review of Rogers. He is ranked highly—but where he should be. There is a summary view of us all—Moore and me among the rest; and both(thefirst justly) praised—though by implication (justly again) placed beneath our memorable friend. Mackintosh is the writer, and also of the critique on De Steel. His grand Essay on Burke, I hear, is for the next number. • • * • • " Tuesday, 30th. " Sunday I dined witlAthe Lord Holland, in St. James's-square. Large party—among them Sir S. Romiily and Lady It., General Sir Somebody Ben tham, a man of science and talent I am told—Horner —the Horner, an Edinburgh Reviewer, an excellent speaker in the ' Honourable House,' very pleasing, too, and gentlemanly in company as far as I have seen—Sharpe—Phillips of Lancashire—Lord John Russell, and others, good men and true.' Hol land's society is very good ; you always see some one or other in it worth knowing. Stuffed myself with sturgeon, and exceeded in champagne and wine in general, but not to confusion of head. When I do dine, I gorge like an Arab, or a Boa snake, on fish and vegetables, but no meat. lam always bet ter, however, on my tea and biscuit than any other regimen—and even that sparingly. " Why does Lady H. always have that damned screen between the whole room and the fire ? I who bear cold no better than an Antelope, and never yet found a sun quite done to my taste, was abso lutely petrified, and could not even shiver. All the rest, too, looked as if they were just unpacked, like salmon from an ice -basket, and set down to table for that day only. When she retired I etched their looks as I dismissed the screen, and every cheek thawed, and every nose reddened with the antici pated glow. " Sunday, a very handsome note from Mackin tosh, who is a rare instance of the union of very transcendant talent and great good nature. To-day (Tuesday), a very pretty billet from M. la Baronne de Stael Holstein. She is pleased to be much pleased with my mention of her and her last work, in my notes. I spoke as I thought. Her works are my delight, and so is she herself for—half an hour. I don't like her politics—at least her having changed them ; had she been palls ab incepto, it were nothing. But she is a woman by herself, and has done more than all the rest of them together, in tellectually—she ought to have been a man. She flatters me very prettily in her note—but I know it, The reason that adulation is not displeasing is, that though untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, in one way or other, to induce people to lie to make us their friend—that is their concern?' • • • " ' Les% is called : It is a good and good humoured man, but pestilentially prolix, and paradoxical, and personal. If he would but talk half, and reduce his visits to an hour, he would add to his popularity. As an author he is very good, and his vanity is ouverle, like Erskine's, and yet not of f ending. " Wednesday, Dec. Ist, 1813. " ' To-day responding to la Baronne de Stael Hol • He had this year so far departed from his strict plan of diet, as to eat Ash occasionally. stein, and sent to Leigh Hunt (an acquisition to my acquaintance—through Moore—of last summ a copy of the two Turkish Tales. Hunt is an ex traordinary character, arid not exactly of the present age; he reminds me more of the Pym and Hampden times—much talent, great independence of spirit, and an austere, yet not repalsive aspect. If he goes on quails ab incepto, I know few men who will de serve more praise, or obtain it. I must go and sce him again. The rapid succession of adventure since last summer, added to some serious uneasines and business, have interrupted our acquaintance; In t he is a man worth knowing; and though, for his own sake, I wish him out of prison, I like to study character in such situations.—He has been unshaken, and will continue so. I don't think him deeply versed in life ; he is the bigot of virtue (not religion), and enamoured of the beauty of that g empty name' as the last breath of Brutus pronounced, and every day proves it. He is, perhaps, a little opiniated, as all men who are the centre of circler wide or narrow —the Sir Oracles, in whose name two or three are gathered together, must be, and as even Johnson was; but, withal, a valuable man, and less ♦ain than success, and even the consciousness of preferring the right to the expedient might excuse. # O • o * " Last night I supped with Lewis; and, as usual, though I neither exceeded in solids nor fluids, hare been half dead ever since. My stomach is entirely destroyed by long abstinence, and the rest will probably follow. Let it. I only wish the pain over. The leap in the dark is the least to be dreaded. 4 " The Duke of . . called : I have told them forty times that, except to half-a-dozen old and Sifrk, cified acquaintances, lam invisible. Hit Grace is a good, noble, ducal person ; but I am content to think so at a distance ; and so—l w•as not at home. " ' Galt called. Mem.—to ask some one to speak to Raymond is favour of his plays. We are old fel low-travellers, and with all his eccentricities he has ranch strong sense, experience of the world, and is, as far as I have seen, a good natured philosophical fellow. I showed him Sligo's Letters on the re ports of the Turkish Girl's tmenture at Athens soon after it happened. He and Lord Holland, Lewis and Moore, and Rogers, and Lady Melbourne have seen it. Murray has a copy. I thought it had been un known, and wish it were ; but Sligo arrived only some days after, and the rumours are the subject of his letter. That shall preserve—it is as well. Lewis and Galt were both terrified, and L. wondered I did not introduce the situation into The Giaour.' He may wonder; he might wonder more at that pro duction being written at all. But to describe the feelings of that situation, were impwaible—it is icy even to recollect them. • • • • • • • " Monday, Dec. 13, 1613. " Allen (Lord Holland's Allen—the best in• formed, and one of the ablest men I know—a per fect Magliabecchi—a devourer, a Hellus of books, and an observer of men) has lent me a quantity of Burns's unpublished, and never-to•be published letters. They are full of oaths and obscene songs. What an antithetical mind !—tenderness, roughness —delicacy, coarseness—sentiment, sensuality—soar ing and grovelling, dirt and deity—all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay ! " It seems strange; a true voluptuary will never abandon his mind to the grossness of reality. It is by exalting the earthly, the material, the physique of our pleasures, by veiling these ideas, by forgetting them altogether, or at least never naming them hardly to one's self, that we alone prevent them from disgusting. • • • • • • * " Went to my box et Covent-garden to-night ; and my delicacy felt a little shocked at seein g S . . . s mistress (who, to my certain knowledge, was actually educated from her birth for her pro fession), sitting with her mother, 'a three-piled b—d, b—d-Major to the Army,' in a private box opposite. I felt rather indignant; but casting my eyes round the house, in the next box to me, and the next, and the next, were the moat dis tinguished old and young Babylonians of quality;— so I burst out a laughing. It was really odd ; Lady . . divorced—Lady . . and her daughter, Lady . . , both divorceable—Mrs. . . ,in the next, the like, and still nearer ! What an assemblage to me, who knew all their histories. It was as if the house had been divided bet ween your public and your understood courtesans ;—but the intriguantes much outnumbered the regular merce naries. On the other side were only Pauline and her mother, and next box to her, three of inferior note. Now where lay the difference between her 21famma, and Lady . . and daughter? except that the two last may enter Carlton and any other house, and the two first are limited to the Opera and b— house. How Ido delight in observing life as it really is ! and myself, after a ll, th e worst o f any . • " lam getting rather into admiration of . the youngest sister of . . A wife would be my salvation. lam sure the wives of my acquaintances have hitherto done me little good. . . . is beautiful, but very young, and I think a fool. But I have not seen enough to judge ; besides, I hate an esprit in petticoats. That she won't love me is very probable, nor shall I love her. But on my system, and the modern system in general, that don't signify. The business (if it came to business) would probably be arranged between papa and me. She would have her own way; I am good-humoured to women, and docile; and if I did not fall in love with her, which I should try to prevent, we should be a very comfortable couple. As to conduct, that she must look to But if I love I shall be jealous; —and for that reason I hill not IA in love. Though, after all, I doubt my temper, and fear I should not be so patient as becomes the bienseance of a married man in my station Divorce ruins the poor femme, and damages are a paltry compensation. 1 do fear my temper would lead me into some of our Oriental tricks of ♦enge ance, or at any rate into a summary appeal to the Court of twelve paces. So I'll none on't, but e'en remain single and solitary ; though I should like to have somebody now and then to yawn with one. • • • • • " W. is in sad enmity with the Whigs, about this Review of Fox (if he did review him) ; all the epigrammatists and essayists are at him. I hate odds, and wish he may beat them. As for me, by the blessing of indifference I have simplified my politics into an utter detestation of all existing Go vernments; and as it is the shortest, and most agreeable, and summary feeling imaginable, the first moment of an universal republic would convert me into an advocate for single and uncontradicted des potism. The fact is, riches are power, and poverty is slavery, all over the earth; and one sort of esta blishment is no better nor worse for a people than another.' " The frost was amazingly severe on Saturday night and Sunday. The pavements and paths were ren dered dangerously slippery, owing to the sharp frost havi ng followed a alight thaw; but the slipperiness of the paths was such in the suburbs, that foot passengers were ob liged to walk in the roads over which carriages had passed. As proof of the icy state of the sides of the roads, a man yesterday, at noon, skated along the side of the road from Hammersmith to Kensington, in his way to the Perk ! Mr. GALT, who has so distinguished himself by his publication of " The AyrshiFe Legatees," " Annals of the Parish," &c. is about to publish a work of an en tirely original description, called " LAWRIE TODD, or the Settlers in the Woods." LAWRIE TODD is the auto biography of a Scotchman who has been sometime in the State of New York. Besides the peculiarities of kis own character it will afford, we understand, views of society and of scenes new in a great measure to literature, par ticularly in the descriptions of the foundation and rise of an American settlement with the moral effect of its pro gress on the dispositions of the different persons who oc cupy the foreground of the pictures. In this respect the work will have special claims to attention : perhaps no other writer has had equal Opportunities of acquiring exact knowledge of operations so primitive and curious. En gaged in superintending an extensive settlement himself, he has not, however, we are told, described merely the re sults of his own experience, but availed himself of all he hiss seen and heard, which in any degree tended to augment the interest of his subjects Mr -r .1. i U(d rode! would Th d ds Of which ; with of she