The Sun. — London, England, 1863-10-07 00:00:00

NOW ready, 62 0 1 IP•+ post Bvo., Third and Cheap Edition, price 10s. 6d., OBSCURE 3 DISEASES of the BRAIN and MIND. By Toituro Wristow, M.D., D.C.L. London. Robert Hardwicke, 192, Piccadilly. RIT.NN, PRESTIDIGITATEUR.- PRINCI :SS'S TTIEATRE.—HERR HER R3IANN'S Performances, EVERY EVENING, at Eight. In Two Parts —as given by him in all the principal Theatres and Opera Houses , if the Continent of Europe and America. The whole of the M arvellous . lllusions entirely new, and invented by Herr Herrn lann. Prices of admission as usuaL Doors open at half-p: ist 7. nriIiEATRE ROYAL DRURY- LANE. Managers, Messrs. E. Falconer and F. B. Chatterton. iHIS EVENING, THE DEAL BOATMAN : Messrs. G. Belmore, F. Charles; Miss R. Leclercq, and Mrs. Edmund Falconer. To conclude with the new and original Comedy, by Ed mund Fal .otter, entitled NATURE'S ABOVE ART : A 80/nut-ice /nut - ice of thy: Nursery : Messrs. Walter Lacy, Addison, Ryder, Barrett, G. Belmore, F. Charles. Neville; Miss Charlotte ..auniiers. Miss Murray, Miss R. Leclercq, Mrs. Melville, and Mrs. Edmund Falconer. Box-office open from Ten till Five daily. Prices as usual. Commence at 7. T HEATRE ROYAL HAYMARKET.- Open for the Season. THIS EVENING, and during the Week, to commence at 7, with AN UNLUCKY MORTAL : Mr. William Farren, Miss M. Harris, &c. After which, at a quarter to 8, the new Comedy of FINESSE ; or, Spy and t ounter Spy: characters by Mr. Alfred Wigan, Mr. Chippendale, Mr. Howe, Mr. Buck-atone; Mrs. Dowton, Miss L. Angel, and Mrs. Alfred Wigan. Concluding with TURNING THE TABLES. On Monday, Oct. 26, Mr. and Mrs. CIAAS. MATHEWS will return to the London stage. N' THEATRE-ROYAL, ADE L V HI.— mole Pronriator. and Manao.er. Mr' R. Webster. THIS EVENDTG, at 7, THE TRAGEDY QUEEN: Mrs. Stirling. At 8, the New Drama of LEAH : Miss Bateman, supported by Messrs. Arthur Stirling R . Phillips, 13111inrton,St.uart, A. Wood, tburne, Miss H. Simms and M rs. Bi li , ngtcn To conclude with CAT CHING AN ITEIRI " S3 ' Miss Woolgar and Mr. A. Wood. MISS BATEMAN.—LE A El.—The celebrated young American Actress, Miss BATEMAN, having on her first appearance in the New Drama of LEAH ob tained th e most triumphant ands nthusiastic success that has been wi nessed for many years,. nd the profound impression Created by her impersonation ot the character ot LEAH upon a crowded audieuce hsving been completely ratified by the unanimous verdict and criti?al approval of the entire Daily Press, the Manager of the NEW A EL PHI THEATRE has the honour to announce that Mss BAT EMAN will appear in the New Pranla Of LEAD EVERY EVENING till further notice. - 0 - AL STRAND THEATRE. 11) Manager, Mr. W. H. Swanborough. I gIS EVENING, WHERE'S YOUR WIFE. Mr. Bel ford, M i ss Simpson. Followed by (69th time) THE MOTTO, "I'M ALL TaNtt E. , ' Messrs. Honey, Turner, E. Danvers, Collier, clitton ' • M e sdames Ada Swanborough, F. F Josephs, Maria i simps on, Wallace, and Jenny White. To conclude with TURN HIM OUT. Mr. Turner, Miss Thorne. Commence at 7. nriHE THIRD EDITION OF " THE SUN,' Containing - the Latest SPORTING INTELLIGENCE can be had Every Evening of G. R. GLENIE, NEWS AGENT, No. 4, Connaught-terrace, Hyde-park. HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE. Tins DAY.—Morning, 84. 20m.—Afternoon, Bh. 59m. To-gonnow.-Ilorning, 9h. 40m.—Afternoon, 10h. 20m. The Weather—Bun Office, Oct. 7, 1863. THERMOMETER. This day at Two o'clock 54 Barometer-29.75. Wind—North-East; light, and cloudy. * 4( . 4 1 7 ) 4/ efjp IS• 4s 11 4"1 ,4P 16 Ni JUL 411 7 .4 .4aurre.- LONDON, WEDNESDAY, OCT. 7, 1863. Day by day, almost, we are getting news now from the American seat of war. Day by day,fresh intel ligence has been dropping in upon us from the scene of the last fighting, and this by means of rapidly succeeding arrivals, each vessel being but little more than twenty-four hours after its immediate predecessor. The Etna—the latest of these arrivals from New York, the steamer in question having reached Queenstown but this very morning at cockcrow—brings information it will be seen by our telegrams down to the 26th inclusive ly. From these additional particulars, it cannot but be more than ever apparent that the defeat of ROSENCItANZ, on the 20th ult. was unmistakeably disastrous in its character. The New York journals talk still confidently enough about the conflict of the preceding day, that is of the 19th ult., as of a drawn battle, and as nothing worse than a drawn battle. But there is no attempt made by anyone, even by the most lying of the systematic apologists of the North, to gloss over the serious and alarming character of the defeat suffered by General ROSEN eftANZ on the morrow—that is, in the great battle fought on the 20th near Chattanooga. The scene of the actual conflict is just immediately upon the state boundary —dividing, as by a line drawn across the map with a ruler,Tennessee from North Georgia. Nearly upon this boundary line, immediately to the west of Chattanooga, the River Tennessee winds at a sharp angle round the spur of Stringer's Ridge. The mountain range, so called, branches off at that same sharp angle (watered e at its base by th the windin g T ennessee) to the north-w es t— n t o h rnorth-east and to the point where that forked ridge it meets trending southwards until nearly rests upon the bou n d ary li ne aforesaid, i mediately to the west of Chattanooga, Chattanomoga itself, and of courae the winding river to the north of it, to gether with the diverging range of Stringer's Ridge on the oth er s id e of that river —all lie in Tennessee. It is directly to the south of them all that lies the boundary line separating Southern Tenness ee f rom N orthern Georgia. And here, directly below th a t li ne, trending slightlya each of them to the south-west, one behind another, almost parallel in their relative positions, are three distinct ridges or elevations of land close together. Nearest to Tennessee, i n , f act running direct from Chattanooga in a south-westerly di rect i on into Georgia, is Lookaut Mountain. Nest to that is Mission Ridg:e—while on the other aide of West Chickamar,ga River, is the last of these three ridges, namely , that of Pigeon Mountain. Between this serried cluster of parallel, or all but parallel, rt&ees, and a much larger ridge than any of them, celled Tay l or ' s Ridge, further to the north i n Georgia, there extends a valley watered by several str eams , this valley having in the middle of it, at file distance of a b ou t thirty-five miles from Chatta b'nega, the town of Lafayette. At the u pp er, or no rthern extremity of Mission Ridge, about five miles from Chattanooga on the road to Lafayette, stand s another and smaller town, called Rossville. Adva • Ros Advancing southwards from Chattanooga, General Eliot:LA.llz on the 16th ultimo reached Rossville, beyond t"lit: halting on the advanced still southwards ten miles Rossville, then at that point 17th at a distanc e of twenty miles On the 18th his pi ckets had pushed forward so much furth er to thesouth pu freodni Lafayette, for that they, there and then, drove in the Confederate guard immediately i n front of Lafayette. spa e 13. b however, thing s began to look rather ugl thy for the ' Federals under 110 SEN (JUN Z —their opponents advancing turn, then, against them, and s, advancing in not only flO 2l the direction of Laf a y ette, bet pouring upon their front aed u p on their flank, r down at oncelor, s Ridge and from Pigeon Mountain. 7 k m Taylor's a y as the Northern papers may about th e b attle of th being only a drawn battle —the re i s the datnn•: 19thege that by the evening of the 19th the Federala had been driven far northwards towards Rossville. On the 20th came the bloodiest fight of all, ROSENCRANZ being signally defeated on the road towards Chatta nooga, losing fifty cannon and from 10,000 to 12,000 men in killed, wounded, and prisoners. His defeated troops were wholly disorganised, were completely routed in many parts of th e field, the mass of Federais at the close of the battle Since then it flying in the utmost confusion. appears that not only ROSENCRANZ but BURNSIDE also, who was known to have been hastening to the assistance of his brother-in-arms, had been placed in a position of the most imminent jeopardy. Our next accounts will inform us whether from this perilous position they have either of them been able to escape. The news which we get from Lancashire becomes every week more encouraging. The most sanguine could not have hoped that the dark cloud of distress would have altogether rolled away, but it has lightened as much as we could reasonably expect. The recipients of relief are every day diminishing in number, and, what is still more satisfactory, that diminution is owing not to decreased population, emigration, or similar causes, but to the gradual revival of the old trade. At the usual weekly meet ing of the Executive Committee held on Monday at the Manchester Town Hall, under the presidency of the Earl ofinte lligence wa s communicated e the gr r a e t t i u fy rn in s g forth the month DERBY,ha that " the , ending the 26th of September last, show continued increase in the amount of employment in the mills, and manufactories in the cotton districts. It like wise appeared from the monthly report of the honorary secretary that the total amount of per sons relieved in September was 184,625 against 456,786 in last January. We were, however, already aware that the number of paupers had considerably decreased since the opening of the year, and there is, therefore, more ground for satisfaction in the gradual increase or work which has steadily taken place since the turn of the summer. The statistics of the numbers in work full time, short time, and out of work altogether in the last weeks of July, August, and Septem ber, show us an increase of more than 30,000 in the full time, and a decrease in those out of work of nearly 18,000. Such facts as these speak for themselves, and are especially reassuring during the autumnal months. We can look forward with less anxiety to the coming winter with these cheering auspices. The report further tells us that of these hands working on short time a much larger propor tion than formerly are now working more than three days. The reduction in the number of reci pients of relief during the last month has been con siderable,l4,773 being no longer in receipt of relief from the local committees, while the number of those wholly or partially dependent on the guar dians is lessened by 5,963. Mr. FARNALL, in con firming the satisfactory report, pointed out that the pauperism of the last week in September was less by 27,557 than that of the corresponding week in last year. Such statistics as these tend to reassure the nation, and stimulate the benevolent to fresh efforts to carry the suffering country through the storm. But it must not be imagined, though the danger has diminished in its urgency, that the need for he!p is past or the day of trouble over. On the contrary, under the present improved circumstances; there are still more than 160,000 persons entirely out of work, and more than 100,000 working short time. When we attempt to give vitality to these lifeless figures, to bring actually before our minds a faint shadow of the want and wretchedness which these words convey, we shall be appalled at the prospect. The most strenuous and unremitting labours of official relief and voluntary assistance, the most ready and liberal help from the nation at large, cannot prevent these sufferers from feeling cold and hunger, want of food and want of clothes, want of work and want of fire, through no fault of their own. The stores of the most prudent are long since exhausted, the courage of the stoutest-hearted must have oftentimes flagged ere this ; yet we hear of no outbreaks, no riot or loud-voiced discontent. The men and women of Llneashire have borne the trial nobly, in a spirit well befitting the mighty race from which they spring. They ar3 now, thank GOD, animated by fresh hope, and may reasonably look to better and happier times, when the whir ring mills shall be no longer silent, and the willing hand shall no more seek for work in vain. It would ill become us now to relax our efforts when the &nand upon us is no longer so great, though equally pressing in its urgency. If Lancashire were to ask in vain now, it would be as though we carried a man from a shipwreck to drop him in the breakers, making all our previous risk and exertion fruitless by our ill-timed precipitancy. One very simple and practical mode of relief there is which is within the reach of most of us, and it is one especially asked for by those best acquainted with the needs of the people. The increasing cold of the weather, and the employment of large numbers of men upon outdoor work during the winter, render gifts of clothing one of the most acceptable forms which benevolence can take, and, in fact, so much is this want felt that, on the motion of Sir J. K. SHUTTLE WORTH, seconded by Colonel WILSON PATTEN, the following minute was adopted by the committee : ‘, That, having regard to the fact that in certain very populous districts the distress continues intense, it is desirable that a supply of clothing should be ob tained for those districts by general donations ; and further, considering the number of factory operatives likely to be employed on out-door labour under the Public Works Act during the winter, this com mittee invite donations of suitable clothing for them and for their wives and families." There is no fear Fthat NtAhLeLreicnefnotrmed t ie m eetin g legislationl will b e useless, for Mr. be had from the Poo r L aw B oard that more thana learned milijon of money had already been applied for under the Public Works Act. Part of this had been directed to the estate of Lord EDWARD HOWARD, thereby producing a considerable differanee in the number of recipients of relief at Glossop. Altogether the prospects in the North are most satisfactory, and the bountiful harvest will help still further to im prove the condition of the poor. The gloomy prog nostications which some persons indulged in are thus happily likely to prove entirely incorrect, while those calculations founded on reason and experience, which foretold the certain revival of so large and important a trade, seem about to be fully realised. garding The recent disclosures re • waken horror in are well calculated to a Bethnal-green the fatal in of all who peruse its details, Five ch. family have died recently from one foul air, fceted water , atal effects of and other ' • 1 Thorold-square consists of twenty - two within these wretched w a ll s h similar h ouses, and hundred a n d fifty people are crowded together, 1 It •8 seventy years ego since it was built. It appeared thr ee ho causes. n from the evidence of a witness, who was examined at the the in quiry, that he had l ive d in the square for last thirteen years, and that during that peri • od there had often been a deficit of water for eighteen months together ; and during the hottest time of the present summer there was none to be had for three weeks at a stretch. The disastrous results that ensued will be best seen from the fact that in the twenty-two houses no fewer than twenty chil dren had been attacked, and twelve had died. Surely this speaks for itself of the exceeding scan tiness of the arrangements that were made regard ing the aanitary condition of these places. Mr. GAy Beni or surgeon of the Great Northern Hospi tal, made a p ost _ . ortem examination of one of the children, and na gave it as his opinion, expressed with out hesitation, that the "child disease, owi ng i n all Probability to u e drinking of 1 impure water, and from the want of sanitory mea sures in the house and its vicinity." This is enough of itself to prove without doubt that great blame is attributable to those whose d ut y i t was to see to those important things, and nothing can excuse such wilful neglect of the vital interests of those confined to such narrow limits. It is bad enough to live in such crowded confines, without being subjected to the fearful in conveniences and the poisonous vapours that were endured by these wretched victims. These unhappy inmates must have undergone dreadful sufferings during the great heat of this summer, • and it is frightful to contemplate what the poor children went through before death mercifully ter , minated their troubles. It appears that when the inhabitants complained to the rent collector they were only laughed at for their pains, and he asserted that it was all right. In consequence of the com plaints that were made the brokers were put in to some families, and this created the greatest confu sion, as no previous notice had been given. This was barbarous conduct, and those who authorised it took advantage of the poverty of their lodgers to continue unredressed the grievances that would not for a moment have been tolerated in richer parishes, or with more independent tenants. It has come to something if the poor of London are to die of disease, and see their children droop and perish, because they dare not make any complaint. An other attempt was made to benefit their miserable condition by some of the inhabitants, who memo rialised, last August, the Medical Department of the Pricy Council-office, but they reaped no good by this motion. The red-tapism of official existence must be preserved intact, though all the inhabitants of a city should be the sufferers, instead of a few isolated witnesses. Thus, for answer, was sent the information that the complainants had applied to the wrong quarter, and that the complaint should have been addressed to the vestry of the parish. Then the distracted sufferers applied to the Home Secretary, who regretted that he had no power to interfere, and recommended them to app ea l to a justice of the peace, and the justices in petty ses sions could make inquiry as to the validity of the complaints. Before all this rigmarole bad been gone into, death, who waits for n° leave from official guardians of the public safety' had appeared upon the scene, and thus the inquiry of the coroner had made public the sad details. Now, it must appear to all who attentively stu d, ' the subject that these arbitrary rules arid regula tions are very mach to be deplored; they militat e against all remedy to the nuisance. Only those who are quite independent of the vestry, and the rent collector, and all the parish authorities put together, can face the evil, and insist on having som e remedy applied. It is far otherwise with the poor, crushed down by an accumulat e d l oa d o f misery, harassed by conflicting claims, with h ungry c hildren crying for bread, and with work s l ac k , an d p e rhaps failing for a time altogether. H ow shall t h e poor man find time, money, or s t rength to ma ke the necessary complicated arrangements, and to dare the wrath of his offend e d l an dl ord. The poor shall never cease out of the l an d , we are inform ed in Scripture, but it behov es a ll l awmakers an d rulers so to fashion their schemes that the poor should be protected--should be allowed, at least, to live in freedom and to die at a natural time. Of coarse, now that the affair is publi c , i nqu i r i es are to be in stituted, and doubtless s ome sa l utary a lterations will be made. But let n o one concerne d in them presume to take credit t o th emse l ves f o r the im provement. Before they stirred in the affair, the poor little victims had been o ff ere d up on the shrine of conventionalism. F or th e cre di t o f o ur country let not such a s acr ifi ce b e ca ll e d for aga i n . Better break through a dozen rules and absurd f or ms than that one child should p er i s h i n a di sgrace ful manner to suit the greed o f some part i es, t h e cu l pa ble neglect of others, and the general inattention that charac terises too many of those who have the care of tee dwellings of the poor. The mortality in Bethnal green should lon g b e a warn i ng to a ll those who are in any way concerne d i n the transaction. COTTON fifty years ago was almost unknown, and no more wool and flax were worked than there was absolute need for; whereas now the annual value of our cotton manuf ac t ures exceeds £70,000, 000, while the trade in woollen g oo d s and yarn is wor th 14 ,000,00), an d 0 that in flax can be h ar dl y less. In 1841 we im ported 364,00 1 e number was 630,000, an d , in 1856, 1,100,00 0 , producing quarters of seed for th e manufacture of oil, in 1851 th 144,000 tons o f ca k e and 56,000 of oil. In 1835 the weight of manufactured p a p er was 70,000000 pou nds ; in 18 45 it was 124,000,000 ; i n 185 5 it stood , at 167,000,00 0 ; in it had risen t o 218 , 00 0,000; and in six years it is estimated that it will re ac h 300 , 00 0,000. 1859 CURIOSITIES OF PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY IN THE lONIAN ISLES : as recentl y described by Professor Ansted Wands receive drai nage without apparent outlet. These .—Several vall eys and circular d e pressions in those abound in Corfu, Santa Maura, and Cephalonia. They oc cur also in Zante, rendering the islands less healthy than they would otherwise be. They are, beyond doubt, results of the peculiarly cracked and open condition of the lime stone rock of whi c h th e whole of the islan d s may be said to be made up. Th ere are also in these is l an ds various in flowing cu rrents of sea water. Very . c learly connected with the same c on diti on of the rock is the cur i o us phenomen a presented ne ar th e town of Argostoli, t h e capital of Cepha lonia. Th e t own is on a low steep of cracked and caverno us limestone, a foot or t wo a b ove the highes t ordinary level of the sea, on one s h ore of a small creek, se parated by a higher ridge of similar limestone from the Gulf of Argostoli. There is hardly more than a few inches perceptible tide in this part of the Medit erranean, an d even in this creek the rise, though m u l t i p l ied, is small. At four places close to the town there are small inlets or cracks, a few feet wide, entering some hundred yards into the land, and terminating in broken, rocky, cavernous spaces. Instead of the ordinary phenomena of the f res h water running over th e l an d t o th e sea, we have he re th e reversed phenomena o f t h e sea com ing in by these crev i ces, running f o r some distance over the land, and finally enter i ng and becoming l ost i n t h e eart h . It is n)thing unu sua l i n limestone countr i es to fi n d water disappearing in the earth; but it is certainly exceptional that this should be sea-water, and that it should continue permanently. THE GHOST AND OUR, COMING PANTOMIMES. — The new Ghost, remarks the London _Review, per vades the British drama. In the metropolis and large towns the spectre of the green-room has a hard fight to wage with the rival spectres of the music-halls and the lecture-room. But he is the "star" of provincial theatres. Dramas are written in his honour. The " play of Hamlet with the part of Hamlet left out" is a respectable old joke, which has served its turn. The modern manager may leave out not only Hamlet but Ophelia, King, Queen, Polonius, and the grave-diggers, so thet the Ghost be left. A civil engineer and a Polytechnic lecturer have given a new di rection to our dramatic literature. Dramas are written for their spectres. At present these looking-glass ghosts keep very disreputable company. They are mixed up with mid night assassins. Their revelations are of poisoned goblets and knives. They have a churchyard air about them, and vanish with the cock-crow. But familiarity breeds con tempt, and there are not wanting signs that the new patent ghost will speedily descend into the regions of comedy and farce. Our modern burlesque writers are not endowed with extraordinary bumps of veneration, and they are already sharpening their pens with the intent of making capital out of him and " seeing what he is made of." The Christmas pantomimes will be sure to have him. The least imaginative urchin may already speculate on the boisterous fun which will greet his appearance. He will rise at the graceful wave of harlequin's wand. The conscience stricken Clownwill behold the apparL ion at first with trem bling knees and face distorted by terror, and then take the maddest somersaults to avoid him. It is Pantaloon's des tiny to be buffeted and upset, but the Ghost threatens him with such unequalled distress of body and mind that his salary ought to stand on a new looting from the first night of the Christmas pantomime. 'hYPOGRAPHICjL j CURIOSITY. -- The Popul ar Science _Review, for October, gives a whole page of the Times newspaper, printed in perfectly legible typ e, size 41 by inches. Wh en i t i s considered that a page of the Limes contains no less than sixty thousand letters, the re duction into this space becomes very interesting. It is printed from stone by photo-lithography and is accom paleied by an article on the subject, written by W. Crooks, F.R.S. Published by Robert Hardwicke, 192, Piceadily. AN " OPERETTA. WITHOUT WORDS," in the man ner of Mendelssohn's "songs without words," has been written by Ferdinand Miler ) Colcsc composer, rim SUN, LONDON, WEDNESDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 7, 1863, LATEST INTELLIGENCE. [REUTER'S TELEGRAMS.] AMERICA. (Per the Etna.) QUEENSTOWN, OCT. 7. The Inman steamer Etna arrived here at 3.30 this morning. She brings 30 cabin, and 61 steerage passengers; 620,000 dollars in specie. She landed 14 passengers and the mails, and proceeded at 3.40 p.m. NEW YORK, SEPT. 26 Morning). Admiral Milne, in the flagship Nile, left Halifax on the 24th inst. for New York. The steamer Juno has been captured, Advices from General Rosencranz to the 24th inst. report that the Confederates are in force in his front. The Confederate infantry are massed in Chickamunga Creek and Valley. It is rumoured that Sherman's corps of Grant's army joined Rosen cranz on the 23d inst. Great anxiety is still felt for the safety of General Burnside. The opinion prevails that he will be cut off if he attempt to reinforce Rosencranz. A. Confederate column has crossed the Missionary Ridge, it was supposed to intercept Burnside. The press correspondents re present the battle of the 19th inst. as a drawn battle, but in the engagement of the 20th Rosencranz suf fered a disastrous defeat. His left and right were completely routed, and his retreat to Rossville was conducted in great disorder. The troops became disorganised, immense . numbers running to the rear after the retreat. Baird Negley, Reynolds's, Brennan's, and Harker's divisions alone retained cohesiveness, and took a posi tion along the base of the Missionary Mountains for another fight, and held their ground against another attack by Polk's corps until the Confederates abandoned the contest. It is estimated that Rosen cranz lost 50 cannon, and 10,000 men killed, wounded, and missing, besides a largo amount of material. Unless Rosencranz received prompt rein forcements it was feared he would be flanked and compelled to retreat across the Tennessee River. The Confederate Generals Preston, Smith, Hood, Deshler, and Helm are killed, and Adams, Gregg, aed Brown are wounded. The Southern journals think that if General Rosencranz is permitted to hold Chattanooga General Bragg's victory will be without profit. The accounts are conflicting concerning the num ber of General Lee's troops who were with Bragg, but it is belie ve d t h at Genera l L ee ' s army has not been very ma ter i a l ly weakened. The news fr om G enera l M ea d e ' s A rmy i s meagre, nothing positive b e i ng k nown concern i ng t h e pros peas of an early engagement on the Rapidan, or of General Meade's intentions. Considerable cavalry skirmishing has taken place near Madison Court House. General White's Confederate cavalry have been marauding in Maryland. The Southern journals represent the armies on the Rapidan in line of battle within a few miles of each other. The Confederates hold all the fords of the Rapidan in force. The Confederates are reported to be threatening :he Federal lines in North Carolina. Two thousand of General Burnside's troops were repulsed in an attack upon Zollicoffer, in Tennessee. The Russi an fl agship Al exan d er N ewa k y, Ad. miral Lasof s ki , with four other Russian men-of-war, have anchored in New York harbour. It is rumoured they will remain there all the winter. The press urge that a hospitable welcome be given to the Russian officers. COMMERCIAL INTELLIGENCE. The Stock Market this morning is much lower. Michigan Southern fell 12 per cent. New York Centrals are quoted 133 ; Illinois, 120 ; Erie, 105-1, Money easy. Gold 39 per cent. premium. (Per the Damascus, via Greencastle, Oct. 6.) NEW YORK, Sept. 25. A correspondent of the New York Journal, who was an eye-witness of the battles of Chicamanga of the 19th and 20th, asserts that the army of the Cumberland has met with a defeat which mast put it on the defensive for some time to come. The Corps of General Thomas was almost the only one which did any fighting. Those of Gene. M'Cook and Crittenden were both badly beaten and driven in all directions on the first day, and on the second the first charge of the Confederates broke their fies, routed the entire commands, and drove them in disgraceful panic into Rossville and Chattanooga. The Federats lost heavily in material, not less than 50 pieces of artillery falling into the hands of the Confederates. The same person adds that Rosencranz is now in no danger, but that the position of Gen. Burnside is most critical. Gen. Bragg officially reports under date of the 21st : " The enemy retreated on Chattanooga last night, leaving his dead and wounded in our hands. His loss is very large in man, artillery, small arms, and colours. Ours is heavy, but not yet ascertained. The victory is complete, and our cavalry is pur suing, With the blessing of God, our troops have accomplished great results against greatly superior numbers. We have to mourn the loss of many gallant officers. Brigadier-Generals Preston Smith, Helm, and Deshles are killed ; Major-General Hood and Brigadier-Generals Adams, G r egg, and Brown are wounded." It is reported from Washington that the Federal cavalry occupied Gordonsville on the night of the 23d. There are rumours that the Confederate General Hill is at Fredericksburg, marching to flank Gen. Meade and cut off his communication. The opinion exists in military circles that no con siderable portion of General Lee's army has been sent out of Virginia. The Richmond Examiner of the 22d states that on Sunday and Monday the opposing armies were drawn up in a line of battle from a half to a quarter of a mile apart, and at some points in full view of each other. Three Russian men-of--war arrived at this port yesterday, and five others are expected to arrive in a few days. Much speculation exists as to the reason of their presence. The municipal auth or ities are making prepara tions to give them a g r an d rece ption by a public banquet. United States xs, l COMMERCIAL INTELLIGENCE. Gold,• Si e regis tered , 3 Treasury 7.30 Notes, 1064; New York C entra l Railway, 133 1 ; Erie, 10 6; Illinois Central, 123 . Cotton, 76c. B rea d atu ff d more active. Provisions improving. Su gars unc h a nged. 8 .1-‘: 1781:10a,n:goae611. :1 ; 52i ARRIVAL OF THE CITY OF CORK. QUEENSTOWN, Ocr. 7. The City of Cork, extra steamship from New York on the 25th u lt., a rrived here at 8 a.m. She landed 23 passengere, and proceeded at 8.20 a.m. THE POLISH INSURRECTION. THORN, Ocr. 7. A Russian spy was s tabbed the day before yes terday, at the Hotel de l'Europe. The perpetrator has not been discovered. In consequence of this attempt the hotel was occupied by the military, and all the male inmates were arrested. A war contrib u ti on o f 8 per cent. on their net income has been imposed upon all house proprietors in Warsaw. LEMBERG, OCT. 6.8 General Wysocki, who, up to the present, has been confined in the prison of this city, was to-day transferred to Linz, where he will bo released on parole. BERLIN, OCT. 7. Private letters received here from St. Petersburg, dated the sth inst., state that on the 3d the Marquis de Pepoli concluded a treaty of commerce with the Russian Government, by which Italy is placed on an equal footing with the most favoured nation. The treaty expressly stipulates that Italian State paper and all shares, the interest of which has been guaranteed by the Italian Government, may be dealt in and quoted on the Russian Stock Ex change. FRANCE. BOURSE, Oct. G.—The market has been rather more buoyant, and the business done shows an im provement. For the Account, Threes are now at 67f. 85c. Mobilier has been done at 1,175 fr. and 1,182 fr. 50c. Railway Share Market quiet, but generally firm. The market improved towards the close, and left off as follows : It per Cents. 95 95 Italian Loan 73 GO Do. end month.... Do. end month 73 85 3 per Cents Do. end month.... 68 20 Do. end month — Credit Mobilier.... 1172 50 Russian Do. end m0nth....1250 Austrian Bank Shares 3300 Spanish Threes.... 52 50 Credit Foncier 1345 Home Debt RA.ILWAYB. Cash. Account. 982 50 .. 985 990 .. 985 . Orleans Northern New. ditto Lyons and Meditormnean .. 995 Geneva 496 25 .. -- -- Southern 712 50 .. 715 Western .. Eastern Sardinian Austrian Lon.bard North of Spain Saragossa .. 642 50 .. 640 Ditto to Barcelona .... .. 352 50 LITERATURE. Next Door. By Mrs. Thomson, author of "Con stance," &c. Three vols. Hurst and Blackett. With saddened feelings we opened the pages of Mrs. Thomson's new work, and with similar senti ments—sentiments that disarm all criticism—we now introduce it to our readers. Between the composition and the publication of this story, its talented author has been called away. The hand which so felicitously guided the pen of the novelist, and which has so often charmed many readers, will delight us no more. Very melancholy is the little fly-leaf announcement prefixed to the first volume of this new novel, which tells us that the work was ready for publication some little time back, but that its appearance was delayed, first by the death of the author's son, and then, by the lamented death of the author herself. No presentiment of these approaching sorrows, however, cast their shadow over the pages of a fiction which may rank with Mrs. Thomson's happiest efforts. It is essentially a domestic novel, abounding with capital sketches of character, and containing many home scenes of vivid interest. The heroines of the story are two very charming sisters, Ada and Rosamond Walworth, the daughters of a sea-captain, who, during their father's absence, are residing in seclusion with their mother—a good-hearted, genial, vulgar woman, supposed to have been a cook. At the opening of the tale their abode is Bruce Cottage, a furnished villa on the banks of the Thames. "Next Door" reside Mrs. Clive, a serious, punc tilious, matter-of-fact merchant's widow, and her son Charles, an undergraduate of Oxford, a very dutiful son, who is, nevertheless, glad to escape from his exacting mother and his prim, old-maidish cousin Jane, to spend his time upon the river which flows by the garden side. There his studies of Aristotle are sadly disturbed by glimpses of the fair inhabitants of " Next Door," whom his strait-laced mother formally declines to visit. Here, in the first chapter, is a pretty scene most gracefully described ; " WITH THE STREAM." It was about that delicious time in a summer's afternoon when the sun's heat begins to abate, and a fresh breeze to announce the approach of evening. That part of the Thames possessed neither interest nor beauty. Bruce Cottage was at the extremity of the village, and after passing its weeping willows, and boat- house, half hidden in trees, a flat shore on either side, and a long expanse of meadow, were diverki fled only by the various reeds, coltsfoot, water persicaria, grasses, and withiea, which disguise the river's edge, with here and there, in spring time, a splash of the golden ranun culus to give colour to that complicated border—and this sameness lasted for hours. Nevertheless it was pleasant to these two girls, who hated constraint, and loved to hear the plashing of the water be neath the oars. It was still warm, and Ada, at last, threw her bonnet quite off, and detaching with her boat-hook a spray of wild hop which grew on the extremity of a hedge intersecting a field, wreathed it round her head, looked up at Rosamond, and smiled. The smile was transient, and the perfect fea tures composed themselves into that look of classic repose which belongs to sculptured beauty in ages past ; and so fine was the form of her head, as she rested it on her hand, that even Rosamond, careless as she was in such observations, was struck by the beautiful listless face and form, and by the thoughtful eyes which were bent upon the water. On a sudden, a violent shock was given to their boat, Rosamond was supposed to be steering, but she had for-. gotten her task. Some one had run up against them. The boy was seated with his back to the helm; no one saw whence the shock proceeded until an outrigger darted quickly by them, and a young man, dressed in a close vest of dark blue flannel, and with a cap on his head —such as is worn ty Oxford boating men—was seen for an instant and then disappeared. But, in a minute, before Ada had looked around her, and the flush on Rosamond's cheek had died away, he reappeared. This time his cap was in his hand; he came leisurely and advisedly close to the side of their boat. " I have to beg a thousand pardons," he said, colouring, and bowing very deferentially, first to Rosamond, but his eyes rested on Ada's face. "I really don't know how it happened ; whether I ran against you, or you against me." He hesitated : " It must have been my fault." ;4 I do not think we have suffered any injury," answered Ada, turning upon him those eyes which he had often wished to see more nearly than in certain transient glimpses which ho had already obtained. " And it was my fault for steering so badly," said Rosamond. " And will do us good—humble us, and be a warning to be more careful," added Ada, with a smile and a bow, and on they glided, leaving the outrigger and its expert master quite enamoured by those few words, those blushes and glances. He was too gentlemanly to attempt to meet them again, so they rowed on languidly and lazily, contented with the delicious breeze and balmy odours from the reeds and wild flowers on the banks. And by way of contrast, let us take from a later volume the following sad glimpse of a dismal wedding : " AGAINST THE STREAM." No flowing drapery, as at the present day, concealed the bride's blushes, or rather, in the present instance, softened her pallor. A. costly bonnet, or rather hat, with white flowers round it in garland fashion, showed her face, which wore, even then, the look of hurry and eagerness upon it which it had done for several days. Her dress was very rich, of a gorgeous satin, made with a train—long enough to act as an apology for the shortness of the bodice of her dress, made, as it was then called, as a spencer. " She's not looking well to-day," whispered Miss Ather • ton to Mr. Temple, " but she really is handsome." "Yes, poor thing I" Mr. Temple thought, "I can see that ;" but his eyes were riveted on Rosamond. "What a face that was," he thought, " so full of varying," and, he fancied, " contending emotions—timidity—expectation— fear." She fared something, ho saw. She seemed to forget herself, and not only herself, but ihe holy ground on which she stood—the altar before her—the relatives and friends who stood there, even her father, and to remember that thers was only one being in the world, her sister ; and when the clerk, sorting the company, as he termed it, gently pointed out to her her place, she almost rushed for ward, and turned quickly to her sister, as if afraid that there was something wrong there. But Ada was unmoved. Once only she betrayed some feeling ; it was when their hands were joined together, she attempted for an instant to draw hers back. Was it that she shuddered ? What shook the snow-white wavy flowers in her bonnet ? What a solemn silence there was in that old church, so remote as it was from all the fashionable world of Brighton; you might have heard the poor old Captain, indeed, breath ing heavily ; you might hear Rosamond's rich taffeta gown rustle as she bent forward to look at her sister's face, but those sounds soon died away. The voice that spoke words of condemnation to her who stood before the altar ceased at last, and then the silence was broken indeed. Ada then seemed to recover her senses ; she turned first —not tater husband, but to her father, and hid hereelf in his arms; the old man bout down his head on hers; the little bustle of congratulations was suddenly checked; every one wag touched; the solemn bond—the solemn bles sing, uttered in deep, earnest tones by the father—the war ring elements, howling through the half•opened doors—the storms which were gathering round the old tower, and whizzing through every crevice inside and outside of the building—the pale anxious looks of the loveliest of the bridemaids—the nervous, unjoyous aspect of the bride groom, formed such a prelude to that after life, of which this was an epoch, as the notes of a requiem would do to a a tragedy. The course of true love in the instance of the Next Door neighbours, it will be seen, does not run more smoothly than is proverbial. Manifold are the trials and troables that befit! Charles Clive and Ada Melmoth ; but the manner in which poetic justice is dealt out in the closing chapters of the story is cne which, although novel-writers delight in it, we cannot regard with favour. In this instance no less than two deaths are required in order to bestow happiness upon t No individuals, who have rendered themselves unworthy of that boon by their treacher ous faithlessness to their first affections. However, " all's well that ends well," and we will not spoil, by further explanations, the interest of what is really a very interesting story. Some portions of the scene are laid at Brighton, of which place, as it was in years gone by, we have the following accu rate description : BRIGHTON IN THE LAST CENTURY. I believe it was then called Brighthelmstone—a nest of cupolas, standing, as if it had sprung up like a bed of mush rooms, near the sea : a handful of trees, not ever-green, but ever-brown ; a place set round with modest tenements, looking out on one spot in Brighton—still the cheerfullest —the Old Steinp ; sundry hotels, and an unfinished line of houses along the West Cliff; the old parish church, above all, on the hill, standing without dignity, but strong enough to defy the howling blasts of the ocean ;—theso were the sole distinctive features of Brighton in those days. The Downs rose above the town ; and, in summer, wheat sheaves threw a shadow where houses now stand. The East Cliff, with its noble sea-view, its bleak points, its wild desolateness, was totally devoid of houses ; the grand Esplanade was not finished—the embankments were not begun. Yet Brighton, rising into importance, and occupied by a small half-aristocratic, half-royal--one third reputable, two-thirds disreputable fashionists, was then, perhaps, strictly far gayer than now—the gaiety of an assembled population not consisting in numbers, bat in characteristics, It was, indeed, a charming resort in those days for the ultra-fast votaries of the Court, around which a group of celebrated men and dazzling, handsome, clever women circled. It had still, to London eyes, the novelty of being partly provincial ; the red brick, narrow pavements of the older streets, the homely houses, with their single bow windows all the way up; those houses on the Steyne, and more especially the ancient church, still recall the days when the Pavilion, with all its traditions of hapless festi vities and heartless intimacies, had been the production of a fancy at once enervated and fantastic. One might almost imagine, ou,ce carried back to those days, that one still saw Mrs. Fitzherbert in her chariot—a monument to warn beauty of its perils—or the Regent, with his blinds drawn up except towards the sea, meeting, as a stranger, in his chariot and four, her for whom he had once defied the coun try's prejudices ;or Romeo Coates—or the man with the pea green suit—or any other of those notable persons who made Brighton their peculiar orb, London being too large for their light to shine in constantly. Then there was a pleasant theatre, which with the luxury of being small, and a company quite good enough for those whose perceptions were blunted, and whose good opinion was propitiated by the fact of their having nothing to do, and to whom therefore going to the theatre was not merely a choice, but a necessity. Rosamond Melmoth has a warmer heart, and con sequently a happier life, than her sister, so true is it that happiness is less from without than from within. We will not betray the secrets of her story. The unhappy fate of Lady Caro line, occasioned by her overwhelming anxiety for her son, will painfully arrest the attention of those who call to mind the approaching death of the authoress, preceded so immediately by that of her own son. The story is somewhat crowded with characters, but their various peculiarities are nicely discriminated. And, with the exception we have already, taken as to the manner of the denouement, we may commend " Next Door" as a very interest ing and attractive novel. Andrew Deverel ; or, the Life of an Adventurer in New Guinea. By Charles Beach. Two vols. Bentley. There is a freshness and originality about this work and its hero, which are very origlnal and very attractive. In the preface we find the following suggestive announcement : The author is an entirely unlearned man, unaccustomed to literature, but he has actually been in all the scenes he describes, and has taken part in the adventures. If he can excite the curiosity and call the attention of the com mercial world to the riches and unexplored resources of New Guinea, he will have conferred a benefit. That beautiful country offers a virgin field of enterprise which would well repay the dangers and difficulties of exploration. Tue glimpse we are afterwards given of the interior of New Guinea is sufficiently alluring to corro borate this assertion. It is represented, indeed, as a land of sweets and spices, of verdure and fertility, of "milk and honey." Andrew Deverel, after too brief survey of it, yearns again to return to that luxuriant soil, but in vain—his fate is otherwise decreed. This Andrew Deverel, as we have said, is "a character" and "an original." We first encounter him a penniless stranger by his mother's grave. He soon afterwards makes acquaintance with the prudent, sagacious John Grey, who enacts a true friend's part to the outcast. In the interview the following hopeless explanation ensues MAKING THE - WORST OF IT. "Do not talk to me of happiness; 1 am not so silly as to ho n e for that. In my life I have seen only two persons that were not miserable. One of those was a lunatic, and the other an idiot." "If only lunatics and fools were happy, you should en joy unbounded felicity, for I never listened to more genuine nonsense than you can talk. Let us take an observation of the circumstances in which you are placed, and determine the course for you to steer in the future. Do you state all that annoys you, and I will examine the means by which it may be removed." " Certainly, if you wish it, and I will not converse on any other subject than the one of which I know the most. In the first place I have poor health. My constitution has become injured by exposure and hardships in many climes. lam ignorant, and have a desire to obtain knowledge. I am in great poverty, and am not contented with it. I have not a relative or friend in the world, and I have some enemies. The education I have received by wandering from one place to another makes me unfitted for any special employment. lam so clothed with rags that no one would listen to any terms I could offer. lam madly in love with a girl who would faint with disgust and indignation should I speak to her." "That is a long catalogue of miseries, and very warm ones, too," said Mr. Grey; "but does it comprise all ?" " No. The worst of all is the state to which my mind is brought by those I have mentioned. I have no energy, no hope, no love of life, and no fear of death. All my feelings are gradually changing into hate and pride. I believe the strongest feeling that keeps me from crime is my dislike to giving mankind the pleasure of punishing me for it." Like many of his fellow-mortals, however, ou: hero is " not so bad as he seems," or not quite so black as he paints himself. There is a happier sketch of him some little time later. ANDREW DEVEREL.' Since early boyhood Andrew had been dependent on his own exertions. The wandering life he had lived, and the hardships he had endured, had early developed a strong and active mind. He had a soul superior to the combina tion of a few animal propensities, governed by vanity, that forms the minds of tuo many young men of the present day. Time is not always the measure of existence. Some people of 25 years have seen, done, and learnt more than others of 75. Some men with active minds do more in the way of thinking in one year than others do in ten, although an in active mind may think itself ever employed. Andrew Deverel had ever been in circumstances requiring the exer tions of all his faculties. If he was so much superior to the majority of young men, the reader may enquire, why should we find him in the streets of his native village, homeless, ill-clad and hungry ? His destitute state was not the result of profligacy or of idleness; but he had a restless love of excitement and ad venture ; he preferred a wandering life, and seeing different countries, instead of following any fixed employment; h e had chosen to be " a rolling stone," and to sacrifice all the " moss" of wealth or comfort he might have gained in a settled business. He was manly and honourable, but he could not bear control, and he revolted from everything like routine. His peculiarities were precisely those most likely to prevent him from ever becoming rich, and to land him occasionally on the positive fact of destitution, but he could always find something to which he could turn his hand to help himself out of his inconveniences ; he carried himself complete wherever he went, and he considered his circum. stances, whether good or ill, as merely temporary. Ho was tall, well made, lithe of limb, capable of enduring great fatigue and privation; with the free and graceful carriage of an Indian chief, he had the grave composure of one. His manners had the characteristic of an old civilisation—viz, that of never seem ing to be out of place. His face was decidedly hand senile,--a pair of large gray eyes with long black eyelashes, which could look very kind and good in spite of a certain haughtiness, due partly to the erect manner in which he held his head ; a straight powerful nose ; a light brown beard and moustache allowed his mouth to be partly seen. When he was in a good temper or a cheerful mood, the expression of his whole countenance was kind and gentle, but it was capable of looking very sarcastic and fierce when he was not pleased. His hair, which was brown like his beard, fell back from his forehead over his head rather long, and without the slightest curl. He had the pride of a dozen devils, a good deal of perverseness, and though his nature was kind, his temper was uncertain. Fortune would have to humour him as well as to favour him, if he were ever to become a rich man. Such is Andrew Deverel, who in his rags and his wretchedness resolves, like the Gipsy Painter of yore, that the rich man's daughter shall become his bride. How Andrew speeds with his wooing we shall not reveal. He has the spirit and determi nation of II Zingaro, and like him deserves to corn maud success. The episode of Henry Froud, who goes to California to win gold for his ruined family, is full of interest, and the scene of his return is de scribed with much dramatic force. Very different emotions are excited by the sad story of the doomed lieutenant, cursed by a fatal attraction to the gaming -table. Deverel ultimately rescues him from want, and lends him money to proceed home wards. Then follows a chapter entitled THE LIEUTENANT'S FATE. On the day that the Lieutenant parted with Andrew Deverel, he reached Stockton an hour before the departure of the steamer for San Francisco. To pass this hour he entered a public-house. There was nothing wrong in this, for the sun was shining strong, and he was fatigued with a long ride. The public-houses in California at that time contained gambling• tables. This was not his fault, there fore let no one blame him for entering a gambling-house. "I must not play," thought he, " even supposing that I had the wish to do so, which I have not. I have sufficient money to take me home, and I want no more. Under these circumstances it would be folly for me to play." He stood near a Monte bank watching the betting, and while engaged in this became very uneasy. Often he would find his hand in his pocket, and would firmly withdraw it. This was repeated till a purse was taken from his pocket and held in his hand. A man near him had won five bets in succession, and on laying down his sixth stake the Lieutenant could not refrain from putting down a stake on the opposite card. "That man will not win this time," said he, "and I should be a fool to lose the chance of betting against him, and winning the price of a passage down the river." The ten dollars that he laid on the table were lost, and in trying to get back this sum he lost 40 more. By a violent mental exertion that nearly upset the throne of reason, he left the house and went on board the steamer. The next morning he stepped ashore in San Francisco. He was intending to take a cabin passage home, and needed some clothing to make a more respectable appearance than he then presented. His clothing was purchased without much economy, and on counting his money afterwards, he found no more than would pay for the passage ticket. His expenses crossing the Isthmus would not be less than 20 dollars, and this sum must be raised in some way, or he could not go in the cabin. Of course he resolved to try obtaining this small sum by betting. He could lose 100 dollars in trying to win what he wished, and then have enough left to go home as a steerage passenger. The night following the departure of the steamer for Panama, in which he had intended to sail, the Lieutenant was wandering penniless through the streets of San Francisco. After leaving the hospital, Andrew walked down to the sea-shore. While there, he saw some men dragging a human body out of the water. Curiosity led him nearer, and he recognised in the dead body his friend the Lieutenant. The jealousy, and the revenge, and the deep-laid plotting of Yvonne partake somewhat of the melo dramatic, bat the general spirit of the work as a whole is so fresh and buoyant, the style of it is so simple and so vigorous, the hero himself is so manly and true-hearted that " Andrew Deverel" bids fair to become a favourite novel, and Charles Beach a popu lar romaneist. MR. BOHN'S THREE NEW VOLUMES. Essays by John Foster on Decision of Character, 4-c. One vol., pp. 342. Thirtieth Edition. The Grimm' Gammer Grethel's liaiu Tales. Translated by Edgar Taylor. Illustrated by George Cruikahank and Ludwig Grimm. One vol., pp. 306. Lowndes' Bibliographer's Manual. Part IX., pp. 315. A New Edition, Revised, Corrected, and Enlarged by H. G. Bohn. It is among the most striking peculiarities of Mr. Bohn's standard series of publications, that they appear, not one by one, but in monthly batches. Another characteristic—necessitated by the mere fact of this simultaneous issue of periodical additions to several distinct libraries—should also be here especially particularised, namely, that of the vivid contrast prosented to view by the diversity of the subjects treated upon in the volumes thus coming to us side by side. A more remarkable illustration of this vivid contrast of themes could hardly be desired, than that now noticeable in regard to the three goodly volumes just issued from the press by Mr. Bohn, simultaneously with the magazines for October. The last mentioned on the list of these three, as above given, is of itself an extraordinary example of careful researca and most lucid arrange ment, although it is, in itself, merely a portion of a very elaborate catalogue raisonnee of "rare, curious, and useful books, published in, or relating to, Great Britain and Ireland, from the invention cf printing" downwards; together (as the very title page minutely intimates), " bibliographical and critical notices, collations of the rarer articles," and commemorative records of the prices at which they have been sold in the present century. Ad mirably comprehensive though the original " Manual," as compiled by Mr. T. Lowndes, un doubtedly was, the present issue of it (in a new and cheap series of parts, of which it will be seen that the one now before us is the ninth), mast not be supposed to be purely and simply a verbatim republication. An examination of even the one isolated instalment here submitted to our notice will show how complete has been the revision, how painstaking the correction, and how considerable the enlargement of the original work, as it is now being given to the world of letters in a popular and periodical form by the learned publisher who has himself undertaken the responsibility of editing it. Although Part IX., extending as it does from p. 2401 to p. 2746, embraces within the compass of those 345 double-columned pages separate paragraph notices merely from " Simon" to " Utterson," it is remarkable to number up how many of those notices have been not only revised, but we might even say bodily re-written, by Mr. Bohn, from the compara tively bald original of Mr. Lowndes. Among these, moreover, being notices as profoundly interesting in themselves as those relating to Tacitus and Sophocles, to Sterne and Smollett, to Terence, Thomson, Turner, and Thucydides. Above all, this ninth instalment of Luwndes's Manual, as revised by Mr. Bohn, is especially deserving of praise for the flood of light thrown by it upon many doubtful p ar ticularsin T r e e s sf a e m et en t t o . the earlier editions of the English New As to the world-famous Essa;;;f - iohn Foster, of the John Foster, the friend of Robert Hall, one of the profoundest Thinkers among the Dissenting body in England, one of the most delicate and subtle analysts of the human mind and character known in this country since Locke—these writ ings of John Foster's, now issued from the Press by Mr. Bohn as another of his three and-sixpenny volumes, have long and long ago taken th e i r place among the recogn i sed classics of English prose literature. The tonbre of their merit is visibly stamped upon the title-page in the two significant words, " Thirtieth Edition." Few prose works in the language—not written by one of the Dii Majores of English Prose Literature (which, it is hardly necessary to remark, John Foster, with all his merits, undoubtedly was not)—have any more obvious claim to re-publication in a series such as Mr. Bohn's—a Standard Library of acknowledged masterpieces. The opportuneness of the re-publication, this October, of the renowned German Fairy Tales and Popular Stories as (nomi na lly) told by Gammer Grethel, but as ( actually) collected together, for the first time, some fifteen years ago, by the cele brated Brothers Grimm—the opportuneness of the re-public a ti on of this delightful wor k , j ust now, is something especially noticeable ! The survivor of those two most learned, yet must popularly well known, and even well-beloved men of letters, having but so very recently breathed his last—