The Sun. — London, England, 1854-01-23 00:00:00

r market MANS 52s Od. 48s 1(1 45s Od 34 sold 775 sold 400 sold 96 sold lown, and own, cur , Barley' L lowest is rent price Inferior. . 47$ 0(1 18s 0(1 28s Otl 44s 03 to 30s 0]; 401bs per Lel ; barley, 65s Od to to 82s 03, I per boll; 3ecf, per lb, 5d to 8d ; Od to Os Od ; d to Os Od ; , 8d to 9d ; ir, 3s Od to ditto, 2s sa ; turkeys, Od ; butter to 00s Od; desale price, , 4d ; pork, Od to Os Od ; Aerial stone, business at t Anglian, 6 B i ; London lieffield, 1001 i ols, 60i ; Testern Wer e otations wer s Valley, se l i )wsbury an a guarantee dis. in closed dull: orth lliidlan ,ed on 'Chang . Only one O le k, at 62i. neral post-004e aue l l ----- 0 Each ran. 24 12ths 12ths .12ths .12ths Feb. 4 Jan• 29 lUnceitalP 'Fe). 14 2 9 IJan. 29 Feb. 1 Feb. Fel). I : Ilan. 2" SJan, 26 Jan. 26 6 0 TUi Feb. Jan 30 Fop. !Oil T VAC -401 TW IC :6 jar, urnp ton ! Fe b, 1 impton impton Feb• ~.....ib ampton Feb. 4 ampton Feb' $ 9 '-• ••ieezOlf lead .. IT° 55 ampton Jan pi ampton Feb' 14 )uth .. g 9 • 96 outh 1 l ampton re' 0 r 1 ampton art' us ports luntry 0 iampton r il iam pton F eb'e 56 outh .•'Ja n• l 9 ,Jan' r .• 3 :4 I tampton ee 1 iamptonFeo Wi li ib f the nu dja 0 5n of the 1 , 1 4 4 be dispat" r 2 DE. c'aturclaY• f y signs °1,104 nd th el life' has ad' fse l itl e i a t the cio inuancet i 13 4 01 r , )f ou r no"' o s/ that pries s f or, nearness ° _,,ts t" ) osed to 01; gi inufacto re contracts ..,00' d 4 which c ° ;cit e regret is; pp?, )thers 31:1 n 0 0° ount to lvboOP ed at 85 , , 0 0r, V propel this cos ° el assets., , e a have vis`, o o l3 : chieflY orP' 'a 9 of ration it short ki nd° o f clsS v et nc ipal trs to average 13 isfr )een to 00 ment 11, 0 4 o f ! ers„ / •egarorit slr, f ores o n er, ° l l e t rio d t into of " • ari 1 1 ' ing , ! .„ o e . o f m ediciP fo e , fit, but Lent tio' d 0 0 0 I restore h 4 Sold "te I— bta Establis ~oa 4i [rag P r • el u l te li! O t 3 M Of "I° l 'll ray eral..avae,por ace, at-law' f 4iffs de of " —f) it-Co lonel Ms. [uir, Vs44o4er., Br ace , . I.O A n A ft. Ig 4 %lion o f p o , :too° t e of s°' gir l"' ttage, C101:1: ivua &e, 011: 00 yeao ate" oi th 00 1 2.10. Offiee' o tl the I%) - - ~ i 11 1/ 1 ..,.e - ' - • *I .. mpto, mpto. nth nipton mpton Inpton mpton uth mpton, uth uth ..! Inpton mptoni • • .• • • Imp ton LONDON dr NORTH-WESTERN RAILWAY. —No , ice is hereby given, that all ARTICLE 4 which hare been left in the carriages of the Company, or have been found upon the railway, between the lit of January and the 31st of December, 1852, and which aro NOT C LAI dED within one month from the date hereof, will be SOLD to pay the expenses. By order. MARK IIUISH. General Manager's Office, Euston Station, London, Jan. 16, 1854. NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN, that the ORDINARY HALF-YEARLY MEETING, In December last, of the SHAREHOLDER; of the DERBYSHIRE, STAFFORD SHIRE, and WORCESTER-IEIIRK JU ,CTION RAILWAY, stands Adjourned to WEDNESDAY, the 25th day of January instant, at 12 o'clock urecisely, at the King's Arms Hotel, B idge-street, West minster, when the appaintuatnt of Direct..rs to supply the vacancies at the Board will be made. W. HARRIE'4, Secretary. No. 1, Derby-street, Parllsment-street, sth January, 1654. CONSTANTINOPLE is just opened at BUR FOR OS, Leicester-square, embractng the ;olden ilo , n Val ley of Sweet Waters, Perri. Galata, the various Pal ices, Swim'', the Tower of Leander, the seven Towers, S4.xta Sophia, and all the o her Mosques, the Sea of Marmo•a, w th Jt omit Olympus in the distance, and the Bosporus, with the combined British and French Fleet, The views of klranada and the Alhambra, and o. the Bernese Alps, are also now open. VENTRILOQUISM and NATURAL MAGIC, not NI ec h ordeal Trit•lts Professor L E K having had the honour of performing his inimitable wonders in legerdemain on two occasions betore the Qtecii, Prince albeit, and pith., begs to announce t the nobility and gentry that he will AT .•END EVENING PARTIE. in town or country. Addreas, 22, St,u• hamp ton-stre t. Bloom bury. ST. MARTIN'S-HAL L.—Haydn's CREATION will be repeated on WED N ~SDAY N r..XT, January 25 under the direction of Mr. John Hullah. Principal Vocalists—Mizis Mr. T. E. Williams, Mr. Frank Bodo' iIi'KETS. ONE SHILLING. Gallery, Half-a-Crown ; Stalls, Five shillings Doors open at a Quarter btiore Seven, commence at Hal' past Seven o'clock. LAURENT'S CASINO, ARGYLE ROOMS, (Lessee, CHAS. C. LAURENT, Onslow-hous Fuoiam road). The above Rosins are now OPEN FOR THE SE 'SON. and will continue Open every evening, with L ACRE •T'-• CELEBRATE!) BAND. Admission, is. hours open It half-past S Dancing to commence at 9 o'clock, and ter irate at half-past 11, R OYAL POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTION. PATRON—H.R.H. PRINCE ALLIER T. MAGNIFICENT PHOTOGRAPHIC PICTURES, prepared ex pressly for this Institution by Monsieur Ferriere of Paris, exhibited en a surface of about a thousand square feet, with an ENTIRELY NEW AERIE , of nis,oLVI NG VIEWS. oiti.y a a Quarter past Four, and in the evenings at a Quarter•paseNine. • LECTURES by Or. BACEIOFFNER on WILKINS'S NEW PATENT UN[VEg AL ELEtITRI2 TELKG eApll LECTURE by J. H. PEPPER, Esq., on SPONTANEOUS COMBUS TION, wit6 , t3rlulaot Experitnenin. Open Mornings and Evenings. Admission, Is.; Schools and Childs n under Ten years of age, Half-price. IIUNGARIAN PROMENADE CONCERTS. admission, Is.—ROY Al. M hitIUNE FTE T BEA IRE Adelaide-street, West , strand—Every EVEN [N4I, at Eight, by the renowned HUNGARIAN B %ND, whose performance► have created such intense interest throughout the leading European cities The programme is varied nightly, and includes the finest compositions of ancient and modern misters, as well as Hungarian and other na tional Melodies, Mazurkas, Wal:zes, Galoos, and Quadrilles. Ka lozdy, conductor. Soloists—Flugelhorn, Horanyi ; ciarionette, M. Augarde; piano, Miss J. Warman. Vocalists The Misses Brougham. Morning Performance, Wednesday and Saturday, at Three. PROGRAMME FOR THE DAY. PART I. Introduction (Robert Le Diable), Meyerbeer ; Duett (Ann t e Laurie), arranged by G Linley, the Misses Brougham ; Solo, piano- forte (La Violette), Miss Julia Warman. Waltz (My Pream) Lich tenstein; Serena le (Light of my Soul), W. Aspen, Miss Josephine Brougham; Duo (Ernani), Verdi; Solo, flugelhorn, Derr Boranyi ; Solo, clarinette, M. Aug,arde ; Polka (The Royal susses arranged by T. Distin ; Quadrille (American), Jullien. PART II Selection (La Sonnambula), Bellini ; Duett (The Cousins), G. W. Glover, the Misses Brougham ; Solo, pianoforte (Grand Valse de Concert), W:s Julia Warman ; Polka (Rendezvous), Strauss ; Qua drille (Salon), Kalozdy ; Ballad (I'll Speak of thee), M. B. Hawes, Miss Elizabeth Brougham; Galop (Cuckoo), Arrang,d by T. Distin ; March (Le Prophets), Meyerbeer. VIECHI'S RAZORS, Strop, and Paste for lls. 4, Leadenhall-street, London. Pair of Razors, 7s. ; Strop, 3s. 6d. ; Paste, 6d. The Razors war ranted, or exchanged if not approved Those who flnd shav , ng painful should try the above, it being well known that hiechi has been eminently successful in rendering shaving an easy operation. Superior shaving-brushes, Naples soap, and every article of drat rate quality for the toilet. Caution.—Do not buy any strop unless 3lechPs name is on it, there being so many counterfeits. Elegant case of razors for presents, from 255. to 10 guineas. Ivory-handled and Scotch strops. CONTRACT FOR WELSH COALS FOR THE COACT OF AFRICA Department of the Storekeeper General of the Navy, Somerset-place, 20th Jan., 1854. THE Commissioners for executing the Office of Lord High Admiral of the United Kingdom of Great Britain And Ireland, DO HEREBY GIVE NOTICE, that on TUESDAY, Vie 7th February next, at One o'clock, they ill be ready to treat with such persons as may be willing to cotract for supplying and delivers g into Store, at the undermentioned places, the following quantities of SOUTH WALES CAALS, flt for the service of her Majesty's steam-ye& els : Sierra Leone, .. • • .........„ 2,00 tons. Fernando Po .. •• • • ...... 500 „ St. Paul de Loando • 1.500 „ Ascen , ion .• • • • • 1,000 A Form of the Tender may ba seen at the said Office. No Tender Will be received after One o'clock on the day of treaty, nor will any be noticed unless the party attends, or an agent for him duly authorised in writing. Every tender must be addressed to the Secretary of the Adm'ralty, and bear in the lett-hand corner the words " Tenti , r f r Coils," and must also be eelivered at Somerset-place, accompanied by a Letter signed by two responsible rer.ons, engaging to become bound with the person tendering, in the sum of 4,000/. for the due perform ance of the Contract. CIRCUL TION OF THE MORNING PAPERS. SUIT' EMENTS TO THE MORNING ADVERTISER. THE extraordinary -*crease- wtrieh-liu taken • pl,ce in 'he circulation of the Vorni , ig A•ivertlier" since its raorgelnent. three years ago. shalt beers-followed by so great an influx of advertisements as to render indt-pensable the nu lication of series of SUPPLE 11E% T , after the commencetnent of th aPProac.hinx session. Supplements to the " Morning Advertiser will intelli according y be i , sued as often as the pressure of Advent ements or Bence may render their pnbileation requisite. To tom an i-lea of the increase which has taken place in the circulation of the " Morning Advertiser," it will only be necessary to give the News- Paper stamp Returns for 1850, and the circulation, as nearly as may be ascertained, of the various mornine papers , except one, at the present time. In 1850 the Stamp Returns gave the foltowing re sults MORNING ADVERTISER •..... 1,549,843 Daily News .................. .... . 1,. 52,010 Morning llerald .... •• • • ............ 1,1 , 9,000 Morning Chronicle • • .. • • • • 912 547 Morning P.,st .. •••.• • • • • • • It will be observed from this statement, that, omitting the • Times," the circulation of the "Morning Advertiser" was then tar above that Of Its morning contemporaries. Were the Stamp Returns to be given dOwil to the present time, the relative circulation of the" Morning Advertiser to its four morning contemporaries assuming that their circulation has undergone no diminution—would be as f )lows :— StORyING ADVERTISER ..• • Daily News • .... ••••• . • • • ....• 1,152,000 Morning Herald .. • ... •• • •• .... • • Morning Chronicle.. • • • • • . 912,517 Morning Post ••. •• • It will be seen that the present circulation of the " Morning Adver tiser" is more than double that of the two highest of its tour contem poraries, and nearly treble that of one of their number. The annals of journalism contain no nstance of success at all approaching to this. Ruch brilliant progress is the best compliment which could be paid to t he " Morning Advertiser's entire independence of all parties and Governments, and its earnest and unceasing advocacy of the popular Published every morning at 127, Fleet-street. January, 18 MEDICAL ADVICE ON THE SECRET INFIRMITIES OF ~DR. SAMUEL LA'MERT, YOUTH AND MATURITY. 37, REDFORD-SQUIRE. L ONDON, uoctor of Medicine, and 'Matriculated Mem°er of the University 0: Edinburgh, Honorary Memher of the London Hospital Medical Society. Licentiate of Apothecaries' Flail, London, &c., &c. MAY be consulted, personally, or by letter, on the various disorders of the nervous and generative system, resulting from juvenile Irregularities and excesses, which have pro duced more misery in youth, degradation in manhood, and prema ture decay at all stages of life, than perhaps any other class of dis eases !znown to modern pathologists. Long and practical experience In the treatment of these diseases has proved that there are in exist once secret causes of self-acrytnred miseries and disappointed hopes in e xistence, traceable to certain pernicious habits, to which Nervous Debility, various forms of Insanity, Unhappy and Unfruitful Marri ages, Impotency Local and Constitutional Weakness, and their endless modifications owe their almost entire origin. _ . ... It is absolutely necessary that all men should know that there are Principles of personal management which cannot be violated without incurring grievous penalties, and when wisdom and regret succeed the heyday of inconsiderate self-indulgence, how these penalties talky be mitigated, how the sting of their bitterness may he removed, and how the evil and its con equenc es may be avoided, and above all, that there is scarcely any degree of physical infirmity or functional derangement to which the timely aid of science cannot apply a cure. DOCTOR LA'IVIERT has for a long series of years been engaged in an extensive practice in the treatment of these delicate com plaints, and is the only legally qualified Physician who, regardless of the taunts and envy of the hypocritical and mock-modest, has had the confidence, through the medium of the public press, to direct attention to these enormous evils, from which no grade of society is free. In selecting this department of practice, he has been amply rewarded by the great success that has attended his Obits in the treatment of these cases, which are too generally confided to the care of unqualified and Ignorant empirics, who, with their pirated publications, assum ed foreign names and titles, and pretended virtues of their patent nostrums, have Inflicted serious injury on those who have been induced to place faith in their pretensions. At home for consultation daily from Eleven till Two, and from Six till Eight. All letters mutt contain the fee of it., and advice and medicines can he forwarded to any initials or address. It la desiraile that patients wishing to consult Dr. LAISIERT should first obtain a copy of his work on - - __„ SELF.PRE4ERVATION A Medical Treatise on the Philosophy of m arriage and Nervous and Generative Debi litN , illustrated by fifty-coloured engravings, and des cribing in detail the various disorders resulting from secret habits and aktesses. The perusal of this treatise will assist in the correct description of their cases, and may be had, price 2s 6d, in English, French, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, or German, of Messrs. Piper Brothers and Co., 23, Paternoster-row; Hannay, 63, Oxford-street ; lilann 39. Cornhill ; Storie, Titchborne-street , Ha y market ; or free •Y Jost for forty-two stamps, to any address from the Author's real denee.37. 11F.DFOID•SOIIABE LOvDON• ON THE SECRET CAUSES OF SELF-ACQUIRED MISERIES AND DISAPPOINTED HOPES. THE SILENT FRIEND. In Six Languages—Fiftieth Edition. CONTAINING THE REMEDY FOR PREVENTION OF DISEABE. Illustrated by One Hundred Anatomical Coloured Engravings and Cases. New Edition, eniarged to 200 pages, price 2s. 6d., by post, from the Establishment, 33. 6d. in stamps , rrHE SILENT FRIEND, a Medical Work on the exhaustion and physical decay of the system, produced by excessive indulgence, the consequences of infection, or the abuse of mercury, with directions for the use of the preventive lotion, fol loved by observations on Marriage, and the disqualifications which prevent it. Illustrated by 100 Coloured Engravings. By R. and L. PERRY and CO., Consulting Surgeons, 19, Demers-street, Oxford- Street. London. Published by Sherwood and Co. 23, Paternoster =OW, and sold by Hannay, 63, and Sanger, 150, O x f or d-street; Gor don, 1 46, Leadenhall-street ; 95, Farrinedou-street ; W. Sutton, 10, Row Church-yard ; Butler, 4, Cheapside ; R Johnson, 68, Cornhill. PART I. treats of the anatomy and physiology of the reproductive organs, and is illustrated by 28 Coloured Engravings. PART 11. treats of the consequences resulting from excessive in dulgence, and their lamentable effects on the system, producing mental and bodily weakness, nervous excitement, and generative incapacity. Illustrated by 10 Explanatory Engravings. PART 111. treats of the diseases resulting from infection, either in the Primary or secondary form and contains explicit directions for . t heir treatment. This section is illustrated by 62 Coloured Engrav ings. PART IV. contains a Remedy for the Prevention of Disease by a simple application, bv which the danger of infection is obviated. PART V. Is devoted to the consideration of mnrriage and its duties. The causes of unproductive union are also considered, and the whole Subject critically and philosophically inquired into. TILE CORDIAL BALM OF SYRI A CUM is exclusively employed In treating nervous and sexual debility, impotence, &c., 11 e and 33 5. Per bottle. The Concentrated Detersive Essence, an anti-syphilitic remedy, for purifying the blood in cases of infection, secondary eYinntons, eruptions, and the abuse of mercury, Ile. and 33e. per bottle. ferry's Purifying Specific Pills, 2s. 9d., 4 s . fid., and I Is. Per box, a certain remed' for gonorrhoea, elect, stricture, and chronic inflammation of the bladder. consultation fee, if by letter, Li. A minute detail at the case is required: age, habits, and posi tion in society. 5/. Packets, with advice, to be had at the Establish ment only, by which the fee, 1/ ,is saved. Messrs. Perry, Surgeons, are in attendance, daily, at 19, Bemers-street, Oxford-street, Lon -1.011. from Elmo till Twos end FIYO to fLuals7 from %MA to Clio. OXFORD UNIVERSITY ELECTION. We have every reason to believe that the question as to the choice of a representative for the University of Oxford in the room of Sir Robert Inglis has been finally settled, and that Sir William Heathcote will be elected without opposition. Thus has been fulfilled what was predicted as the inevitable result of the tactics pursued by the leaders of the opposite party in Oxford, and the representation of the University, which might fairly claim that both of its great phases of opinion should be heard in Parliament, has passed entirely into the hands of one, and that one directed by a committee acting on the University from without. This is what has come of fighting a battle with impossible candidates, with incur ables averse to all reform either in Church or State, and with men who were simply set up to be knocked down, and of whom no one has ever heard after they were beaten. The friends of Dr. Travers Twiss, indeed, were desirous of bringing him for ward, and there is little doubt that, had ho been dis posed to revive the animosities caused by the late contest, he might have put the supporters of Sir William Heathcote to considerable trouble and expense ; but, under all the circumstances, in a manner which deserves to be appreciated by the University, he has declined the doubtful honour, and deelared that he will not oontest the University on the present vacancy. We observe that the organs of the Low Church party weary themselves in finding excuses for accepting Sir William Heathcote ; but, if they ever mean to regain a share in the representation of the University, they must find out or train up a candidate with views more in accordance with the wants of the age than those professed by their candidates of late years, or be prepared to see both seats constantly occupied by their antagonists.—Times. A report has reached us that some gentlemen of ex treme views, who are dissatisfied with Sir William Heathcote's Conservative principles, contemplate bring ng forward Dr. Travers Twiss, of University. Dr. Twiss is, as we stated some weeks ago , a " Whig and something more," and we would advise members of Con vocation to make themselves fully acquainted with his views before promising him their votes. We sincerely tt ust the peace of the University may not be unneces sarily disturbed by a contest so hopeless, --Morning No. 19,135.] Now ready at all the Libraries, in 3 vols. ALICE WENTWORTH, A NOVEL. " his novel" says the Athenaeum, " reminds as of the tales by Lady Scat which some twenty years ago had power and . pathos enough to get a hearing and keep a place—even though Lister, Ward, and tint wer (than a youth) were all in the field, with their manly esp riences of modern life and society. Alice Wen worth is as gracious a hero ne-heiress as has for many a y ear pact been intro duced into the world of novel ren tors." Hurst and Mackett, publish.. s, successors to Henry Colbarn, 13, Great Marlborou,h-strt et. Now ready, Vois I. to IV. (to be completed in Five Vols ), price Bs, each, SIR, EDWARD BULWER LYTTON'S POETICAL and 11. kM VTIC WORKS. Now first collected, a d containing mar•y poems never bef .re " Not the least striking evidences of the poet's genius, of the thinker's intellectual activity. Fan„y and Feeling are richly dis plx in all, and in a few referring to classical surjects the scholar declares himself equally with the poet in their learned felicity and imaginative:-uhtlety of allusion."—Examiner. London: Chapman and Hall, 193, I'iccadilly. On Saturday next will be published, in fcp. Bvo. with Two Plates bg B. 11 , rrii.g, RECORDS of the CHASE and MEMOIRS of CELEBRATED sPORTSMF,N ; illustrating some of the U.a_ es of 0 den times, and comparing them with prevailing Customs : Together with an Introduction to most of the Fashionable Hunting Countries; and Comm nts. fly CECIL, Author of " Phe Stud Farm" and " Stable Practice." London : Longman, Brown, Green, and Lologmans. DR. CUMMING'S NEW WORK. This day, in fcp , cloth, full gilt, price 95., THE TENT AND THE ALTAR ; or, Sketches FROM PAT RI ARC HAL LIFE. By the Rev. JOHN CUM ING, I. D., F.It.S.E., with vignettes, uniform with "Apocalyptic Sketches." Arthur Hall, Virtue and Co , 25, Faternoster•row. This day, in post Bro , Kith rlanettes, 600 pp., neatly hound, price 10s 64., ROME, REGAL AND REPUBLICAN, a His tory for Famili-s. By JANE STRICKLAND. edited by Agnes Strickland, Author of " Lives of the Queens of England," &c. Arthur Hall, Virtue and Co., 25, Paternoster row. ROBERT COCKS and CO.'S OCTAVO ED TION of " MESSIAH," from Mozart's Score, with the imendix. By JonN BISHOP. Imp. Bvo., pp. 257. 6s. 6d. ; folio, 15s. ROBERT COCKS and CO.'S OCTAVO EDITION of " THE CREATION." By JoHN Bisaor Bvn., pp 181, 4g. 6d. ; folio, 15s. ROBERT COCKS and CO.'S OCTAVO EDITION of "SAMSON." By Dr. CLARKE. Imp. Bvo., pp. 324, 65.; folio, by JOHN BISHOP, 15s. London : Robert Cocks and Co., Publishers to the Queen, New Burlington-ltrea. HAYDN'S CREATION.-ROBERT COCKS and CO.'S STANDARD OCTAVO EDITION. 4s 6d. Visitors to St. Martin's Hall on Wednesday, the 25th, will find this elegant Handbook a suitable companion. It will be equally appro priate as a handsome memorial upon the drawing-room table or piano`orte. Specimen pages (or the work itself) may be had at St. Martin's Hall, Long-acre. THE FAMOUS HIGHLAND CLOAK.- A variety of MACDOUGALL'S FAMOUS HIGHLAND CLOAKS, in all colours, may be seen at Messrs. POOLE and M A CGTLLIVR AY'S, 25, Princes-street, Cavendish-square, as well as samples of the materials of which they are made. i r% R ALBERT SMITH'S MONT BLANC, I_ including the BERNESE OBERLAND and the SIMPLON, EVERY EVENING at Eight o'Clock, (except Saturday), and Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday Mornings, at Two Stalls, 35., which can be taken at the box Mlles every day from 11 to 4 ; area, 25.; gallery, is —Mont Blanc, Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly. GEOLOGY. —King's College, London.—Pro fessor TENNANT, F.G.S., will give a COURSE of LEC TURES on GEoLOGY. To commence on WEDNESDAY MORNING, January 25th, at Nine o'clock, and to be continued en each succeed ing Frit:lvy and Wednesday, at the ame hour. R. IV. JELF, D.D., Principal. M ORB 4S'S BLACK SWAN HOTEL, SNIG-HILL, SHEFFIELD. Commercial nentlemen awl others are respectfully solicited to give this Hotel a trial. Tha house has been horoughly Re-furnished, and affords every domestic comfort. Spacious'ild excellent Stabling. T. and R. M. Mo* . itUNlate Head Waiters at the Royal Hotel, Sheffield, and Argel Hotel, Whitby), Proprietors. THE CON: The fnd wli Franc' , lse undertaki Public Drawing. 'C .SERVATIVE LAND ng remrns show the progress ol ing from Its commencement to I Me number of Shsres ia.ued anc quarters are as follows: SOCIETY. this Freehold the Fourteenth I Cash received durie; the first tlve shares in shares Total. Date. Cash. Prozrr ss ompleted 1852. Sept. 7to Dec. 24. 1,360 187 1,547 Z , 2,161 11 0 1853. Dee. 24 to March 24 1 347 83 1,430 8,083 0 6 June 24 ........ .. 1.462 217 1.679 17,4 0 1 15 3 Sept. mber 29 ... ' ,310 168 1,474 18,428 18 11 December 24 ...... 1.547 143 1,00 20,302 211 Sept. tuber 29 ... December 24 To'al.. • • ... 7,026 798 7,824 176,377 8 7 Shares taken from the 7th of September, 1852, to the Four teenth Puhl , c Drawing on Janulry 14, 1854 • • • • •• 8,406 Shares on the Order of Rights by completion, by public draw 0, and be seniority •• • • ........... •••• •• 2, 9 24 Last Share No. on the Order of Righ's by seniority ....... 712 Subscrbed Capital .. •• •• •• •• .• .................42 0 ,3 00 0 0 •• .. ••.. •• 83,079 10 6 Bonus realised on shares during the first year.. • • •• Six per cent. Interest now allowed on completed shares, and on payments of year's subscription and fees, and upwards, in advance •. •• •• •• .. • •... Five per cent. Estates purchased .. •• •• •• •• •• allotted •• •• •• •• •• Eight. „ ready for allotment .......... •• .......... Five. CHARLES LEWIS GRUNEISEN, Secretary. 33, Norfolk-street, Strand, London, Jan. 14, 1854. ANOTHER NOTE. ANOTHER Note is sent to Russia, possibly perfumed with gunpowder: the Principalities are to be relin quished, and 'he Northern forces to retire. Notes of Interrogation? and Notes of Admiration! are the notes most applicable to the Esta blishments of E. NICHES and S.)N. For the advantage of those who are not thoroughly acquainted with London, it is necessary to ob serve that E. MOSES and SoN's gigantic houses of business are, Minories and Aldgate (opposite the Church), and their West-end branch is New Oxford-street, corner of Hart-street. But many ask, what are E. MOSES and Sorr? They are the most noted merchant tailors of the age ! The producers of the best fitting, the best male, and the most fasitionab'e Clothing in the world ! For whom do they make it ? For noblemen, clergymen, men of business, mechanics, and all others ; for adults, youths, and children ! What are their charges ? The most economical prices are asked for first-rate articles ! What do they make besides attire? Shirts, the best in materials, the most fashionable in make, the most elegantly em bro'dered, and the largest quantity of plain shirts (in all sizes) which were ever made by any house of business ! They also make every article of clothing for ladies, for which they charge The most econo mical prices. What do they make, and what do they sell? All fashionable articles of hosiery for ladies and gentlemen. Furs, hats, caps, boots an i shoes, &c., and the best selected outfits for emigrants to any country or climate. CA ITT lON.—E. MO: ES and SON regret having to guard the uhlic against imposition, having learned that the untradesman-like alsehood of " Being connected with 'heir Establishment," or " It's the same concern," has been resorted to In many instances, and for ibvions reasons, they beg to state that they have CO CONNEXION wrxin ANY OTHER HOUSE IN OR OUT OF LONDON, except their own Establishments, as follows : London City Establishment, 154, 155. 156, and 157, Minories, 83, 4,85, and 86, Aldgate, opposite the Church, all communicating. London West-end Branch, 506, 507, 506, New Oxford-street, 1, 2 and 3, Hart-street, all communicating. Bradford (Yorkshire) Branch, 19 and 20, Bridge-street. heffield Branch, 31 Eatvate. Colonial Branch, M,-lbou , ne, Australia. Merchant Tailo. Clothiers, Hatters, Hosiers, Furriers, Boot and siakers, and General Outfitters for Ladles and Gentlemen. IMPORTANT.—ShouId any article not give satisfaction, it will be exchanged if desired, or, if preferred, the money will be returned without hesitation. All goods are marked in plain figures, the lowest rice, trom which no abatement can he made. The Establishments are closed from sunset on Fridays to sunset on Saturdays, when business is resumed till 12 o'clock. A new Book, " The Epitome of Comfort and Economy," contain- Lig full lists of prices, our system of self-measurement, &c., &c., av he bid on application. or post-free. A handsome Almanac for the year ending 1854 can be had, gratis on application. iCi I'on pexle Francais. Qui si parla Italian. ‘r richt man Tlontach. Aqua se hat,la EADATIO A o' o 2_ ~.7 -4, e , l e 40,662_,'7 . ... ..---. y _ • • „.,,...„...., . , ..,„ . ~, ' llllll 4 iii, ...., ~ ...„.. ,),... ( t .. ' 4 ); .-.4..a... - . 7..-.:-.• it' •„.I.F, ~-...,-, -, -. ••• .. , . __ ~. ,-.,..--,-....:. 4 ' : 15r .4- -- 4°7-.----' 1 . , . . . -1. - 4„... , 4 ... . , : . „„,,, , -' • -,..e . z , , "'"•.,7,, 1 ''''. MN-. -1 7 ',:% ~ . ' they . .47 0 ••J 64 1, 44" a - , - ...A,- - I' - ' '`...-.,;', ''- - , , ..,:,'..,:, 4 •—' ... , k 0 ••• -.... , , ~.- . ~., . _ • . . , . , . . F. 1 )1 / 4 7'1 •' 1'. -. , " . .,.. - `...., I 131 " 1 ..4 3,, 4, 7 , • 1 -.4" - - l k , • ai • • i'',. :3' . ' ' '''''-' 4 ' ' ..:,4. , .. ik _ NN ,:, k W' IE 4 ..:„..,,.„ IL._ .„4 ` . 0 •-th . ---'''' ' - '/ • - ,' . iaoro '''" . ' I,';`. , fk• 0.,' ''',?`4••,, ' 7/ 1": ) i „,_,,''''• • , I?it-t..„,., „., :•,„ i '',..” - ii i „, - ,:. K ._,_____________ -17.'44.:,` . .:'-' - R .: " 411a2''',- .. 4; 7 4 1 - •,. ° if . :; 1 Am . , .3.S r- "I; ,',, ,4 ' ..., likki t: ' - . - \ . ' ~ ,r-, ,-- ' '----- ' 7 , iht . i„,ol r , , • __..t Ti t. , ~ .. ~..„,„01 .„;., ' J, 7 1, DI r, , k.,(14,;.ts ' ~ ii,,7r' ntoN :' ~,„;47-- --- r, --,,..... ; .22-F__, ' • + [PRICE SD• ' I I dides represent the intense interest with which the Gre cian intellect was accustomed to view the action and strife, the sorrow and triumph, of the human beings, from whom it never stood superciliously aloof. Though the father of philosophical history. Thucydides knows no thing of that cynical irony which is common to the mo dern spirit of historical philosophy iu its cold survey of the follies and errors of mankind. He cover neglects to place full before you whatever ennobles our species, whe ther it be the lofty sentiment of Pericles or the hardy valour of Brasidas. It is his candid sympathy with what ever in itself is g loci and great which vivifies his sombre chronicle, and rend , vs him at once earliest yet impartial. Each little bay or creek, each defile or pass, e here gallant deeds have been done, ho describes with the conviction that the deeds have hallowed the place to all posterity, and have become a part of that Krii i tia nr, dot which he pro posed to bequeath. This is the spirit which returns to life in your own day and in your own historians, which gives a classic charm to the military details of Napier, and lights with a patriot's fire the large intelligence and pro found research that immortalise the page of Alison. (Loud applause.) Pass from history to oratory. All men in modern times, famous for their eloquence, have recognised Demosthenes as their model. Many speakers in our own country have literally translated passages from his orations, and produced electrical effects upon sober English senators by thoughts first uttered to passionate Athenian crowds. Why is this ? . Not from the style—the style vanishes in translation—it is because thoughts the noblest appeal to emotions the most masculine and popular. You see in Demosthenes the man accustomed to deal with the prac tical business of men—to generalise details, to render com plicated affairs clear to the ordinary understanding— and, at the same time, to connect the material interests of life with the sentiments that warm the breast and exalt the soul. It is the brain of an accomplished states man in unison with a generous heart, thoroughly in earn est, beating loud and high with the passionate desire to convince breathless thousands—how to baffle a danger, and to save their country. (Applause.) A little time longer, and Athens is free no more. The iron force of Macedon has banished liberty from the silenced Agora. But liberty had already secured to herself a gentle re fuge in the groves of the Academe—there, still to the last, the Grecian intellect maintains the same social, humanising, practical aspect. The immense mind of Aristotle gathers together as in a treasure-house for future ages, all that was valuable in the knowledge that informs us of the earth on which we dwell - the political constitutions of States, and their results on the character of nations, the science of ethics, the analysis of ideas, natu ral history, physical science, critical investigation, mane ins ensunz peragravit ; and all that he collects - from wisdom he applies to the earthly uses of man. (Hear, hear.) Yet it is not by the tutor of Alexander, but by the pupil of Socrates, that our vast debt to the Grecian mind is completed. When we remount from Aristotle to his great master, Plato—it is as if we looked from nature up to nature's God. There, amidst the decline of free dom, the corruption of manners—just before the date when, with the fall of Athens, the beautiful ideal of sen suous life faded mournfully away—there, on that verge of time stands the consoling Plato, preparing philosophy to receive the Christian dispensation, by opening the gates of the Infinite, and proclaiming the immortality of the soul. (Applause.) Thus the Grecian genius, ever kindly and benignant, first appears to awaken man from the sloth of the senses, to enlarge the boundaries of self, to connect the desire of glory with the sanctity of household ties, to raise up in luminous contrast with the inert despotism of the old Eastern world—the ener gies of freemen, the duties of citizens ; and, finally, accomplishing its mission as the visible Iris, to States and heroes, melts into the rainbow, announcing a more sacred covenant, and spans the streams of the Heathen Orcus with an arch lost in the Christian's Heaven. (Applause.) I have so exhausted your patience in what I have thus said of the Grecian literature that I must limit closely my remarks upon the Roman. And here, in deed, the subject does not require the same space. In the Greek literature all is fresh and original ; its v-ry art is but the happiest selection from natural objects knit together with th e zone o f th e care l ess Graces.' But the Latin literature is borrowed and adopted ; and, like all imitations, we perceive at once that it is arti ficial—but in this imitation it has much exquisite taste, in this artificiality there is so much refinement of polish, so much stateliness of pomp—that it assumes an origin ality of its own. It has not found, its jewels in native mines, but it takes them, with a conqueror's hand, and weaves them into regal diadems. Dignity and polish are the especial attributes of Latin literature in its happiest age ; it betrays the habitual influence of an aristocracy, wealthy, magnificent, and learned. To borrow a phrase from Persists—its words sweep along as if clothed with the toga. Whether we take the sonorous lines of Virgil or the swelling periods of Cicero, the easier dignity of Sallust, or the patrician simplicity of Caesar, we are sensible that we see with a race accustomed to a mea sured decorum, a majestic self-control, unfamiliar to the more lively impulse of small Greek communities. There is a greater demarcation between the intellect of the writer and the homely sense of the multitude. The Latin writers seek to link themselves to posterity rather through a succession of select and well-bred admirers than by cor dial identification with the passions and interests of the profane vulgar. Even Horace himself, so brilliant an d easy, and so conscious of his monuntentuni sere perennius, affects disdain of popular applause, and informs us with a kind of pride that his satires had no vogue in the haunts of the common people. Every bold schoolboy takes at once to Homer, but it is only the fine taste of the scholar that thoroughly appreciates Virgil ; and only the experi enced man of the world who discovers all the delicate wit, all the exquisite urbanity of sentiment, that win our affec tion to Horace in proportion as we advance in life. In short, the Greek writers warm and elevate our emotions as men the Latin writers temper emotions to the stately reserve of highborn gentle men. The Greeks fire us more to the inspirations of poetry, (or as in Plato and parts of Demosthenes) to that sublimer prose to which poetry is akin, but the Latin writers are perhaps on the whole, though I say it with hesitation, safer models for that accurate construction and decorous elegance by which classical prose divides itself from the forms of verse. Nor is this elegance effeminate, but, on the contrary, nervous and robust, though, lik3 the statue of Apollo, the strength of the muscle is concealed by the undulation of the curves. (Applause.) But there is this, as a general result from the study of ancient letters, whether Greek or Roman. Both are the literature of grand races, of free men and brave hearts. Both abound iu generous thoughts and high examples ; both, whatever their occasional license, inculcate upon the whole the ha bitual practice of manly virtues ; both glowing with the love of country ; both are animated by the desire of fame and honour. Therefore, whatever may be our future pro fession and pursuit, however they may take us from the scholastic closet, and forbid any frequent return to the clas sic studies of our youth, still he whose early steps have been led into that land of demi-gods and heroes will find that its very air has enriched through life the blood of his thoughts, that he quits the soil with a front which the Greek has directed towards the stars, and a step which imperial Rome has disciplined to the march that carried her eagles round the world. (Loud applause.) Not in vain do these lessons appeal to the youth of Scotland. From this capital, still as from the elder Athens, stream the lights of philosophy and learning. But your country men are not less renowned for the qualities of action than for those of thought. And you whom I address will carry with you, in your several paths to fortune, your national attributes of reflective judgment and dauntless courage. (Great applause.) I see an eventful and stirring age ex pand before the rising generation. In that grand contest between new ideas and ancient forms, whioh may be still more keenly urged before this century expires, whatever your differences of political opinion, I adjure you to hold fast the vital principle of civi lisation. What is that principle? It is tho union of liberty with order. The art to preserve this union has o ft en baffled the wisest statesman in stormy times ; b ut the task becomes easy at once, if the people whom they seek to guide will but carry into public affairs the same p rudent consideration which com mands prosper ity in private business. You h ave already derived from yo ur ancestors an immense capital of political freedom ; i n crease it if you will—but by s o lid i nvestments, not by hazardous speculations. You will hear much of the necessity of progress, and truly : for where progress ends decline invariably begins ; but remember that the healthful progress of society is like the natural life of man —it consists in the gradual and harmonious development of all its constitutional powers, all its component parts, and you introduce weakness and disease into the whole system, whether you attempt to stint or to force the growth. The old homely rule you prescribe to the individual is ap plicable to a State —Keep the limbs warm by exercise, and keep the head cool by temperance. But new ideas do not invade only our political systems ; you will find them wherever you turn. Philosophy has altered the direc tiona it favoured in the last century—it enters less into metaphysical inquiry, it questions less the relationships between man and his Maker, it assumes its practical character as the investigator of external nature, and seeks to adapt agencies before partially concealed to the positive uses of man. Hero I leave you to your own bold researches ; you cannot be much mislead, if you re member the maxim, to observe with vigilance, and in quire with conscientious care. Nor is it necessary that 1 I should admonish the sons of religious Scotland that the most daring speculations as to Nature may be accom panied with the humblest faith in those sublime doctrines that open heaven alike to the wisest philosopher and the siwpigst Nr t iant, Mor i and lowl Applaudol Ido not //t to arrogate the dace of the preacher ; but, be Here me, as a man of books, and a man of the world, that you inherit a religion which, in its most familiar form, in the lowly prayer that you learned from your mother's lips, will save you from the temptations to which life is exposed, more surely than all which the pride of philo sephy can teach. (Loud applause.) Nor can I believe that the man will ever go very far or very obstinately wrong who, by the mere habit of thanksgiving and prayer, will be forced to examine his conscience, even but once a day, and remember that the eye of the Almighty is upon him. One word further. Nothing, to my mind, preserves a brave people true and firm to its hereditary vifues more than a devout though liberal spirit of nationality. (Applause.) And it is not because Scot land is united with England that the Scotchman should forget the glories of his annals, the tombs of his an cestors, or relax one jot of his love for his native soil. (Applause.) I say not this to flatter you—l say it not for Scotland alone. 1 say it for the sake of the empire. For sure I am that, if ever the step of the invader sheuld laud upon these kindred shores—there, wherever the national spirit is the most strongly felt—there, where the local af fectiuus most animate the breast--there will our defenders be the bravest. (Applause.) It would ill become me to eater into the special grounds of debate now at issue ; but, permit use to remind you that, while pressing with your accustomed spirit for whatever you may deem to be equal rights, you would be untrue to your own fame if you did. not feel that the true Majesty of Scotland needs neither the pomp of courts nor the blazonry of heralds. What though Holyrood be desolate—what though no king holds revels in its halls—the empire of Scotland has but extended its range ; and, blended with England, under the daughter of your ancient kings, peoples the Australian wilds that lay beyond the chart of Columbus, and rules over the In dian realms that eluded the grasp of Alexander. (Loud applause.) That empire does not suffice for you. It may decay —it may perish. More grand is the domain you have won over human thought, and identified with the eternal progress of intellect and freedom. (Renewed applause.) From the charter of that domain no ceremonial can dis place the impression of your seal. In the van of that pro gress no blazon can flaunt before that old Lion of Scotland (pointing to the flag suspended opposite.) (Great cheering.) This is the empire that you will adorn in peace ; this is the empire that, if need be, you will defend in war. It is not here that I would provoke one difference in political opinion —but surely you, the sons of SOotland, who hold both fame and power upon the same tenure as that which secures civilisation from lawless force—surely you are not the men who could contemplate with folded arms the re turn of the dark ages, and quietly render up the haven that commands Asia on the one side and threatens Europe on the other, to the barbaric ambition of some new Alaric of the north. (Loud applause.) But, whether in reluc tant war or in happier peace, I can but bid you be mindful of your fathers—learn from them how duties fulfilled in the world become honours after death ; and in your va rious callings continue to maintain for Scotland her su blime affiance with every power of mind that can defend or instruct, soothe or exalt humanity. (Sir Edward resumed his seat amidst loud and continued applause, the audience rising to their feet eat masse.) Lord ROBERTSON said—l am sure there sno one pre sent who could go home with anything like peace of mind, if the sentiment which must pervade the whole of this meeting were not somehow or other expressed—the senti ment of gratitude to the distinguished Baronet for the un rivalled harangue which has just concluded. (Cheers.) It is unnecessary for me to say anything more than to con vey, in your name, to him our most sincere thanks for the instruction which we have now received from his eloquent lips. (Cheers.) Ido not know intimately the constitution of the associated societies ; but this I know, that they could not have chosen a more admirable president, nor done anything more likely to promote the designs of that classical union which they constitute in our University, than to select him who has, in the brilliant speech which we have now heard, given us so much instruction and en tertainment. (Cheers.) The presence of that distinguished individual prevents me from saying more; and all I will add is, that if you will permit me, as a Scotchman, to re turn thanks for the way in which he has spoken of my native country, I would say of him that he is as great an honour to England as Sir Walter Scott was to Scotland. (Cheers.) Sir E. B. LYTTON—I am at a loss for words to express to you the gratitude which I feel for the attention with which you have listened to a long and, perhaps, from its very nature, a somewhat formal and dry discourse. (Cries of "No, no," and cheers.) lam still less able to thank you for the sympathy you have expressed in the too flattering compliment paid me by the distin guished personage who has brought me again before you. Amongst the many causes which have combined to render this inauguration so gratifying to me, is the feeling that my election has not been attended with the bitterness of contest—that it was rendered unanimous by the courtesy of the eminent nobleman who, though bearing one of the most illustrious names in Scotland (the Duke of Argyll), worthily supported in his own person, deferred his claims on your favour to those which your kindness ascribed to me. (Cheers.) In this, it seems to me that he was desirous to establish your old reputation for hospitality, by giving you the occasion to prove how well you can receive a stranger. (Cheers.) I must own that I have been somewhat embarrassed this day, not only by my re spect for the judgment, necessarily fastidious, of an audi ence comprising men so eminent for scholarship and science, but also by the unexpected effect of a display of such charms and attractions, in the gentler part of this assembly, as might well bewilder the most practised orator, and turn the head of the coldest sage. (Laughter.) On my return to the sister metropolis, if I hear conceited gentlemen de clare that they ate quite biases with the beauties of Lon don ball-rooms, I shall tell them that, in order to regain the freshness of the faculty of admiration, they must come here and take a glance at the beauties of Edinburgh. (Laughter and cheers.) It remains for me only to assure you of the deep interest I shall always take in your Col lege, your capital, your country. By birth lam an Eng lishman, it is true ; but it seems to me that, from this day, lam almost a Scotchman by adoption. (Loud cheers.) The proceedings then terminated. MURDER OF A BRITISH OFFICER.—The Volcano steam-vessel, Commander Robert Coote, has brought home intelligence of the murder of Acting Second Master Carr, a fine young officer, who was turned over front the Prometheus steam-sloop to the Myrmidon steam vessel, still serving on the west coast of Africa, as she has six months of her time to serve on that unhealthy station. The murder was brutally effected on the 28th of November, at an island called Kanzabac, one of the Bijonga group. Mr. Carr had landed on some rocks, in tending to spear fish. He had not been on the rocks ten minutes when he was fired at from the bush, and he either tumbled or jumped into the sea. The savages instantly made their appearance, and one of them ran down and stood on the rocks, where he watched till Carr rose, the impres sion on board the steamer being that he had dived, and the African then shot him through the head. The whole transaction was done in so short a time, that as a gun was fired from the ship the murderers retreated into the bush again. A boat was instantly sent to the rocks, but the tide had flowed so rapidly that no traces of Mr. Carr's body could be seen. On the following day the body was found in the water quite dead. The first shot had hit him the abdomen, and was an awful wound, which would of itself have caused death. The second shot passed in alongside the nose, destroying the upper jaw, and lodgin g in or close to the brain. The officers and crew of the Myrmidon were burning for revenge for the foul and uncalled for murder, but they could do nothing, as there are no towns near the sea, and to ad vance into a country thickly inhabited with armed men, was not warranted with the small disposable force serv ing in the Myrmidon. THE CONVICT Cummnia.—ln the case of William Cumming, capitally convicted before the High Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh, for the murder of his wife, and who was left for execution on Monday, the 9th inst., we stated that a respite had been sent from the Home-office on the evening before (Saturday). This respite was granted for a fortnight, in order to give time for inquiry into allegations put forward on behalf of the culprit, and emanated from a request of the law authorities in Edinburgh to that effect. The execution was thereby respited to the 23d inst. (to-morrow). The High Court of Justiciary in Edinburgh simultaneously—by virtue of an authority vested in them—respited the execution until the 25 th — Wednesday next. Lord Palmerston, however, has yesterday written, in reply to the applica tions in favour of the unhappy man, to express his regret that no case had been made upon which he could advise a reversal of the judgment of the court and the jury by which he was condemned, and that, therefore, the law must take its course.—Observer. RESPITE OF THE CONVICT TAPNEB.—On Tuesday last a communication was received by the Lieutenant- Governor of Guernsey, Lieutenant-General Sir John Bell, through the Home-office, and returning a petition which had been presented for a commutation of sentence, for the purpose of it being referred to the Royal Court of Guernsey, before whom the prisoner was tried, for their report and observations thereon. The petition having been taken into consideration, the observations of the court were transmitted by the mail, and were re ceived at the Home-office on Saturday last. Pending the answer of the appeal to the clemency of the Crown, the execution of the prisoner, which had been fixed for Friday, the 27th inst., is postponed ; and the unfortu nate man had been respited until the 3d of February. THE PAVEUENTS OP THE METROPOLTS.—We are sorry to find that the collection of snow is still suffered to re main on the pavement outside the railing of Hyde-park, from the Marble Arch to the corner of the Edgware road, effectually preventing all use of the pavement by the public, and otherwise causing vast annoyance and inconvenience. Surely, it must be somebody's business to see that this public nuisance is at once removed ; and if, being on the footpath instead of in the road, it is not actually the duty of the parish contractor to remove it, the authorities of the Woods and Forests' Department ought to see that the lodge-keeper removes the obstruc tion, or employs a sufficient number of men for a short time for the purpose. At princip a l p r esent, one of the sites in the metropolis is a scandal and an eyesore, and a disgrace to all concerned. FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT.—On Thursday last an opera tive in the Belfast Iron Works, whilst sucking with his mouth the air out of a pipe through which molten iron was to pass—a usual custom in the process—he swallowed a portion of the melted mares, Ticeiring terrible internal ippariev, A bOPO gZilits of Ilia nliiwatita ietnery. LONDON, MONDAY EVENING, JANUARY 23, 1854. SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON'S INAUGURAL ADDRESS. (Front the Edinburgh Adrertb9er.) Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart., D.C.L., M.P., Honorary President of the Associated Societies of the University, delivered his inaugural address on Wednesday night, iu the Queen-street Hall. These Societies—the Dialectic, Diagnostic, Scots Law, and Huntarian Medical institutedjor the cultivation of oratory, literature, and science aro of long standing, and include among their mem bers many of the most eminent Scotchmen of the day. As Associated Societies they now for the first time recognise a common president—Sir E. B. Lytton being the first to occupy that distinguished position. The honourable baronet was elected last year by the almost unanimous voice of the society, Mr. Disraeli having, for par titular reasons declined the honour, and the Duke of Argyll, who was nominated in opposition to Sir E. B. Lytton, having withdrawn in his favour. The hall, on Wednesday evening, was tastefully de corated with emblems of Scotland's nationality. Over the platform was hung a banner displaying the Scottish Lion, which was also rampant in front of the gallery ; and the rostrom bore the symbol of the Thistle, with the motto, " NETCIO me impune lacossit." The hall was crowded to overflowing. The societies had invited the elite of the citizens to be present on the occasion : and certainly we have seldom witnessed in the city of Edinburgh so dis tinguished a gathering of fair ladies and great men. Sir Edward, on entering the hall, was greeted with loud and prolonged cheering, the whole company standing. The honourable baronet was conducted to the platform by the chairman of his election committee and the secretary of the Associated Societies ; and accompanied by the Earl of Kintore, Lord Robertson, Lord Curriehill, Lord Deas, Sir Archibald Alison, Bart., the Hon. the Lord Advocate, Mr. Stirling, of Keir, M.P., Mr. Cowan, M.P. for the city, tho Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, Bishop Terrot, the Rev. Dr. Grant, the Rev. Dr. Guthrie, the Rev. R. W. Fraser, Professors Pillans, Syme, Simpson, Gregory, Menzies, More, Balfour, Bennett, R. Lee, M'Dougall, Blackey, Aytoun, Kelland, and Swinton, Captain Blackwood, Mr. John Blackwood, Mr. Robert Chambers, &c. Among the ladies and gentlemen in the hall, we observed—Lady Anne and Lady Caroline Charteris, Lady Emma Campbell, Lady Camilla Sinclair, Sir Robert and Lady Arbuthnot, Sir W. and Lady Trevelyan, Sir John and Lady Lady Alison and Miss Alison, Sir J. D. Elphinstone, Bart., Sir George Sinclair and the Misses Sinclair, the Rev. Dr. Simpson, the Rev. Dr. Crawford, &c. Letters of apology for absence had been received from the Marquis of Lothian, the Lord Justice-Clerk, Lord Rutherfurd, Lord Murray, Sir Wm. Hamilton, Bart., Sir David Brewster, Mr. Macaulay, M.P., Colonel Mure of Caldwell, M.P., &c- After silence had been restored, The LORD ADVOCATE, who on rising was loudly cheered said—The task which devolves upon me to-night, though a very gratifying, is, I am happy to say, a very easy one. I have been asked by the gentlemen to whom we owe this meeting, as one of their number, to introduce to you Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton—(cheers)—a most superfluous duty, as I think his name would of itself be a sufficient introduction to the admiration and respect of any audience in the world where the English language is understood (Cheers.) I am quite sure that you, whom his writings have delighted and instructed, need no other ; and, there fore, I would rather assume the duty of saying one sen tence of welcome and of thanks—(cheers)—of welcome— of hearty and honest welcome—of so distinguished a visi tor to our ancient town—(cheers)- of welcome to so great a master of the spell of genius, under whose wand our hearts have beat so often, and whose magic has cheered so many a toil-worn spirit under its load, and thrown its sunny rays over so many an hour of leisure—(cheers)—and of thanks for the prompt and ready response which he has given to the request which was made to him from the body that I represent, and the kind and generous feeling that has urged him, at this season of the year, to take so long a journey to show his interest in the progress of literature and science in the capital of Scotland, in our academical studies, and in those who are most deeply engaged in them. (Loud cheers.) I shall not do more, by way of preface, to delay you from hearing the address which he will deliver to you to-night. I can only say that we return him our heartfelt thanks, and we shall be proud if, as I am sure will be the case, our meeting tends to give a fresh impulse to the ardour of youthful study, and to bind the students of our University in a union still more close than any they have hitherto enjoyed. (Cheers.) Sir EDWARD BULWER LYTTON then came forward, and was greeted with enthusiastic and prolonged applause. He said—Gentlemen, I may well feel overcome by the kind ness with which you receive me, for I cannot disentangle my earliest recollections from my sense of intellectual obli gations to the genius of Scotland. The first poets who charmed me from play in the half-holidays of school were Campbell and Scott—the first historians who clothed, for me, with life, tie shadows of the past, were Robertson and Hume—the first philosopher, who, by the grace of his attractive style, lured me on to the analysis of the human mind, was Dugald Stewart—and the first novel that I bought with my own money and hid under my pillow, was the "Roderick Random" of Smollett. (Applause.) So, when later, in a long vacation from my studies at Cambridge, I learned the love for active adventure, and contracted the habit of self-reliance by solitary excursions on foot, my staff in my hand and my knapsack on my shoulders, it was towards Scotland that I instinctively bent my way, as if to the nursery ground from which had been wafted to my mind the first germs of those fertile and fair ideas, which, after they have come to flower upon their native soil, re turn to seed, and are carried by the winds, we know not whither, calling up endless diversities of the same plant, according to the climate and the ground to which they are borne by chance. (Applause.) Gentlemen, this day I visited, with Professor Aytoun, the spot on which, a mere lad, obscure, and alone, I remember to have stood one starlight night in the streets of Edinburgh, gazing across what was then a deep ravine, upon the picturesque out lines of the Old Town, all the associations which make Scotland so dear to romance, and so sacred to learning, rushing over me with tumultuous pleasure ; her stormy history, her enchanting legends—wild tales of witchcraft and fairyland—of headlong chivalry and tragic love—all contrasting, yet all uniting, with the renown of schools famous for patient erudition and tranquil science. I re member how I then wished that I could have found some tie in parentage or blood to connect me with the great people in whose capital I stood a stranger. (Applause.) That tie which birth denied to me, my humble labours, and your generous kindness, have at last bestowed ; and the stranger in your streets stands to-day in this crowded hall, proud to identify his own career with the hopes and aspirations of the youth of Scotland. (Great applause.) Gentlemen—when I turn to what the analogous custom of other Universities renders my duty upon this occasion, and offer some suggestions that may serve as hints in your various studies, I feel literally over shadowed by the awe of the great names, all your own, which rise high around me in ev, ry department of human progress. It is not only the illustrious dead before whom I have to bow—your wonted fir s do not live only in their ashes. The men of to-day are worthy the men of yesterday. (Applause.) A thousand rays of intellectual light are I gathered and fused together in the varied learning of your ' distinguished Principal. (Applause.) The chivalry of your glorious annals finds its new Tyrta3us in the vigorous and rushing verse of Professor Aytoun. (Loud cheers.) Your medical schools, in all their branches—pathology, medical jurisprudence, surgery, anatomy, chemistry— advance more and more to fresh honours under the presid ing names of Simpson—(loud applause)—Alison —(ap plause) Christison (applause)—G oodsir (applause) Traill—(applause)—Syme—(applause) —and Gregory. (Ap plause. The general cause of education itself is identified with the wide rei.ute of Professor Pillans. (Applause.) Nature has added the name of Forbes to the list of those who have not only examined her laws but discovered her secrets—(loud cheers)—while the comprehensive science of Sir William Hamilton—(applause)—still corrects and ex tends the sublime chart that defines the immaterial uni verse of ideas. And how can I forget the name of one man whose character and works must have produced the most healthful influence over the youth of Scotland—com bining, as they do, in the rarest union, all that is tender and graceful with all that is hardy and masculine—the exquisite poet, the vigorous critic, the eloquent discourser, the joyous comrade—the minstrel of the Isle of Palms-- the Christopher North of Maga ? (Loud and prolonged cheering.) How I wish that the plaudits with which you receive this inadequate reference to one so loved and honoured might be carried to his ears, and assure him that like those statues of the great Roman fathers in the well known passage of Tacitus,—if he be absent from the pro cession he is still more remembered by the assembly. (Loud cheering.) And since I see around me many who, though not connected with your college, are yet interested in the learned fame of your capital, per mit me on this neutral ground to suspend all differences of party, and do homage to the great orator and author, whose luminous genius, whose scholastic attainments, those independence of spirit, whose integrity of life so worthily represent not only the capital, but the character of the people who claim their countryman by descent in Macau lay. (Great applause.) When I think of those names, and of many more which I might cite, if time would allow me to make the catalogue of your living title-deeds to fame, I might well shrink from the task before me ; but a every man assists to a general illumination by placing a single light at his own window, so, perhaps, my individual experience may contribute its humble ray to the atmos phere which genius and learning have kindled into familiar splendour. (Cheers.) Gentlemen, I shall first offer some remarks upon those fundamental requisites which, no matter what be etir peculiar studies, are essential to ex' cellence in all of there. Nature indicates to the infant the two main elements of wisdom ; nature herself teaches the infant to observe and to inquire. You will have noticed how every new object catches the eye of a young child— how intuitively he begins to question you upon all that he surveys—what it is ? what is it for ? how it came there ? how is it made ? who made it ? Gradually, as he becomes older, his observation is less vigilant, his curiosity less eager. In fact, both faculties are often troublesome and puzzling to those about him. He is told to attend to his lessons, and not ask questions to which he cannot yet understand the replies. Thus, his restless vivacity is drilled into mechanical forms, so that often when we leave school we observe less and inquiL e less than when we stood at the knees of our mother in the nursery. But our first ob ject on entering upon youth, and surveying the great world that spreads before us, should be to regain the earliest at tributes of the child. What were the instincts of the in fant are the primary duties of the student. His ideas be come rich and various in proportion as he observes— accurate and practical in proportion as he inquires. The old story of Newton observing the fall of the apple, and so arriving, by inquiry, at the laws of gravity, will occur to you all. But this is the ordinary process in every department of intelligence. A man observes more attentively than others had done something in itself very simple. He reflects, tests his ob servation by inquiry, and becomes the discoverer, the inventor ; enriches a science, improves a manu facture, adds a new beauty to the arts, or if engaged in professional active life, detects, as a physician, the secret cause of disease—extracts truth, as a lawyer, from contradictory evidenbe—or grapples, 'as a statesman, with the complicated principles by which nations flourish or de cay. In short, take with you - into all your studies this leading proposition, that, whether in active life or in let ters and research, a man will always be eminent according to the vigilance with which he observes, and the acuteness with which he inquires. But this is not enough—some thing more is wanted—it is that resolute effort of the will which we call perseverance. I am no believer in genius without labour; but I do believe that labour, judiciously and continuously applied, becomes genius in itself. Success in removing obstacles, as in conquering armies, depends on this law of mechanics—the greatest amount of force at your command concentrated on a given point. If your constitutional force be less than another man's, you equal him if you continue it longer and concentrate it more. The old saying of the Spartan parent to the son who complained that his sword was too short, is applicable to everything in life—" If your weapon is too short, add a step to it." Dr. Arnold, the famous Rugby schoolmaster, said the dif ference between one boy and another was not so much in talent as in energy. It is with boys as with men ; and per. severance is energy made habitual. But I forget that I am talking to Scotchmen ; no need to preach energy and per severance to them. Those are their national characteris tics. (A laugh,) Is there a soil upon earth from which the Scotchman cannot wring some harvest for fortune ; or one field of honourable contest on which he has not left some trophy of renown? (Cheers.) We mus t now talk a little upon books. Gentlemen, the objects and utilities of reading are so various, that to suggest any formal rules whereby to dictate its subjects and confine its scope, would be to resemble the man in a Greek anecdote, who, in order to improve his honey, cut off the wings of .his bees, and placed before them the flowers his own sense found the sweetest. No doubt, the flowers were the best he could find on Hymettus, but, somehow or other, when the bees had lost their wings they made no honey a t a ll . Still , while the ordinary inducement to reading is towards general delight and general instruction, it is well in youth to acquire the habit of reading with conscien tious toil for a special purpose. Whatever costs us labour, braces all the sinews of the mind in the effort ; and whatever we study with a definite object fixes a much more tenacious hold on the memory than do the lessons of mere desultory reading. If, for instance, you read the history of the latter half of the last century, sim ply because some works on the subject are thrown in your way ; unless your memory be unusually good, you will re tain but a vague recollection, that rather serves to dimi nish ignorance than bestow knowledge. But suppose, in a debating society, that the subject of debate be the cha racter of Charles Fox, or the administration of Mr. Pitt, and some young man gets up the facts of the time for the special purpose of making an ample and elaborate speech on the principles and career of either of those statesmen, the definite purpose for which he reads, and the animated object to which it is to be applied, will, in all probability, fix what he reads indelibly in his mind ; and to the dry materials of knowledge will be added the virida vi.s of argument and reasoning. You see now, then, how wisely the first founders of learning established institutions for youth on the collegiate principle ; fixing the vague desire for knowledge into distinct bounds, by lectures on chosen subjects, and placing before the ambition of the student the practical object of honourable distinction—a distinc tion, indeed, that connects itself with our gentlest affec tions, and our most lasting interests ; for honours gained in youth pay back to our parents, while they are yet living, some part of what we owe to their anxiety and care. And whatever renown a university can confer abridges the road to subsequent success, interests our contemporaries in our career, and raises up a crowd eager to cheer on our first maturer efforts to make a name. The friendships we form at College die away as life divides us, but the honours we gain there remain and constitute a portion of ourselves. Who, for instance, can separate the fame of a Brougham or a Mackintosh from the reputation they established at the University of Edinburgh ? (Loud cheers.) The variety of knowledge embraced in the four divisions, which are here called faculties, allows to every one an ample choice, according to the bias of each several mind, or the profes sion for which the student is destined. But there is one twofold branch of humane letters in which the universities of Scotland are so renowned that I must refer to it speci ally, though the reference must be brief. I mean moral and metaphysical philosophy, which, in Edinburgh espe cially, has been allied to the Graces by the silver style of Dugald Stewart and taken the loveliness which Plato ascribes to virtue from the beautiful intellect of Browne. Now, it would be idle to ask the general student to make himself a profound metaphysician. You might as well ask him to make himself a great poet. Both the one and the other are born for their calling ; not made by our advice, but their own irresistible impulse. But a liberal view of the principal theories as to the formation of the human mind, and the latent motives of human conduct, is of essential service to all about to enter upon busy practi cal life. Such studies quicken our perceptions of error and virtue, enlarge our general knowledge of mankind, and enable our later experience to apply with order and method the facts it accumulates. I need not remind those who boast the great name of Chalmers —(cheers)—or who heard the lectures of your Principal two years ago, that Moral Philosophy is the handmaid of Divinity. She is also the sister of Jurisprudence, and the presiding genius of that art in which you are so famous, and which, in order to heal the body, must often prescribe alteratives to the mind—more especially in these days, when half our dis eases come from the neglect of the body iu the overwork of the brain. In this railway ago the wear and tear of labour and intellect go on without pause or self-pity. We live longer than our forefathers, but we suffer more from a thousand artificial anxieties are cares. They fatigued only the muscles; we exhaust the finer strength of the nerves ; and when we send impatiently to the doctor, it is ten to one but what he finds the acute complaint, which is all that we perceive, connected with some chronic men tal irritation, or some unwholesome inveteracy of habit. Here, then, the physician, accustomed to consider how mind acts upon body, will exercise with discretion the skill that moral philosophy has taught him. Every one knows the difference between two medical attendants, perhaps equally learned in pharmacy and the routine of the schools ; the one writes in haste the prescription we may as well "throw to the dogs;" the other, by his sooth ing admonitions, his agreeable converse, cheers up the gloomy spirits, regulates the defective habits, and often, unconsciously to oueselves, " ministers to the mind dis eased, and plucks from the memory , a rooted sorrow." (Ap plause.) And the difference between them is, that one has studied our moral anatomy, and the other has only looked on ' us as mere machines of matter, to be inspected by a peep at the tongue, and regulated by a touch of the pulse. And in order to prove my sense of th e connect i on b etween moral and metaphysical philosophy and practical pa thology, and to pay a joint com p li ment to the two sciences for which your College is so pre-eminent, I here, as a personal favour to myself, crave permission of the heads and authorities of the University to offer the prize of a gold medal, for the current year, for the best essay by any student on seine special subject implying the connection I speak of, which may be selected in concert with the various professors of your medical schools and the profeFsers of metaphysics and moral philosophy. (Loud applause.) Gentlemen—Allow me to preface the topic to which I now turn by cong ratulating you on the acquisition your scholarship has recently made in the accomplished translator of eEcbylus, Professor Blackie—(applause)—who appears to have thrown so much light on the ancient lan guage of the Greeks by showing its substantial identity with the modern. (Applause.) I now proceed to impress on you the importance of classical studies. I shall endea vour to avoid the sot phrases of declamatory panegyric which the subject too commonly provokes But if those studies appear to you cold and tedious, the fault is in the languor with which they are approached. Do you think that the statue of ancient art is but a lifeless marble ? Animate it with your own young breath, and instantly it lives and glows. Greek literature, if it served you with nothing else, should excite your curiosity as the picture of a wondrous state of civilisation which, in its peculiar phases, the world can never see again, and yet from which every succeeding state of ciyilisatio4 has borrowed its liveliest touches. If you take it first as a mere record of events—if you examine only the contest between the Spar tans and the Athenians—the one as the representative of duration and order, the other of change and progress both pushed to the extreme—there instantly rise before you, in the noblest forms—through the grandest illustrations of history —through the collision of characters at once human and heroic—there instantly, I say, rise before you lessons which may instruct every age, and which may especially guide the present. For co closely does Grecian history bear on the more prominent disputes in our own day, that it is not only full of wise saw::, but still more of modern instances. I pass by this view of the political value of Grecian literature, on which I could not well en large without, perhaps, provoking party differences, to offer some remrirks, purely critical, and for which I bespeak your indulgence if I draw too largely on your time. Every professor who encourages the young to the study of the classics, will tell them how those ancient masterpieces have served modern Europe with models to guide the taste and excite the emulation. But here let us distinguish what we should mean when we speak of them as models--we mean no check to originality—no cold and sterile imitation, more especially of form and diction. The pith and substance of a good English style—be it simple and severe, be it copious and adorned—must still be found in the nervous strength of our native tongue. (Applause.) We need not borrow from Greek or Roman the art that renders a noble thought transparent to the humblest under standing, or charms the fastidious ear with the varying music of elaborate cadence. The classic authors are models in a more comprehensive sense. They teach us less how to handle words than how to view things ; and first, let us recognise the main characteristic of the literature of Greece. The genius of Greek letters is essentially social and hit mane. Far from presenting us with a frigid and austere ideal, it deals with the most vivid passions, the largest interests common to the mass of mankind. In this sense of the word it is practical—that is, it connects itself with the natural feelings, the practical life of men under all forms of civilisation. That is the reason why it is so dur able—it fastens hold of sympathy and interest in every nation and every age. Thus Homer is immeasurably the most important poet the world ever knew. The Iliad ds constructed from materials with which the natural human heart has the most affinity. Our social instincts interest us on both sides, whether in the war of the Greeks aven ging the desecration of the marriage hearth, or the doom of the Trojans, which takes all its pathos from the moment we see Hector parting from Andromache, and unbinding his helmet that it may not terrify his child. Homer makes no attempt at abstract subtle feelings with which few ca sympathise. He takes terror and pity from the most po pular springs of emotion—valour, love, patriotism, domes tic affections— the struggle of Man with fate—the contrast, as in Achilles, between glorious youth and early death— between headlong daring and passionate sorrow; the con trast, as in Priam, between all that gives reverence to the king and all that moves compassion for the man. Homer knows no conventional dignity; his heroes weep— his goddesses scold—(a laugh)—Hector himself knows fear, and we do not respect him the less, though we love him more, when his heart sinks and his feet fly before Achilles. So essentially human is Homer, that it is said that he first created the Greek gods—that is, he clothed what before were vague phantoms with attributes familiar to humanity, and gave them the power of divinities, with the forms and hearts of men. (Applause.) Civilisa' ion advances, but the Greek literature still preserves this spe cial character of humanity, and each succeeding critic still incorporates his genius with the actual existence and warm emotions of the crowd. £schylus strides forth from the field of Marathon, to give voice to the grand practical ideas that influenced his land and times. He represents the apotheosis of freedom, and the (lawn of p`iilosophy through the mists of fable. Thus, in the victory hymn of the " The Persae," he (haunts the defeat of Xerxes ; thus, in the " Seven before Thebes," he addresses an audi ence still hot from the memories of war, in words that rekindle its passions and re-echo its clang ; thus again, in the wondrous myth of the "Prometheus Bound," he piles up the fragments of primeval legend with a Titan's hand, storming the very throne of Zeus with assertions of the liberty of intellectual force, as opposed to the authority of force. In lEschylus, there is always the very form and pressure of an age characterised by fierce emotions, and the tumult of new ideas struggling for definite expression. (Applause.) Sophocles no less commands an everlasting audience by genial sympathy with the minds that thought, and the hearts that beat, in his own day. The stormy revolution of thought that succeeded the Persian war had given way to a milder, but no less manly, period of serene intelligence. The time had come in which what we c a ll "The Beautiful" developed its ripe propdrtious. A senti ment of order, of submission to the gods—a desire to em bellish the social existence secured by victorious war— pervaded the manners and inspired the gentle emulation. All this is reflected in the calm splendour of Sophocles• It seems a type of the difference between the two that .Eschylus—a bearded man—had fought at Marathon, and Sophocles—in the bloom of youth—had tuned his harp to the pecans that circled round the trophies of Salamis. The Prometheus of Aschylus is a vindication of human wisdom, made with the sublime arrogance of a Titan'a pride. The tEdipus of Sophocles teaches its nothing ness to Wisdom, and inflicts its blind punishment upon Pride. But observe how both these great poets inculcate the sentiment of Mercy as an element of tragic grandeur, and how they both seek to connect that attri bute of humanity with the frame of their native land. Thus it is to Athens that the Orestes of /Eschylus comes to expiate his parricide—it is the tutelary goddess of the Athenians that pleads in his cause, and reconciles the Furies to the release of their hunted victim. But still more impressively does Sophocles inculcate and adorn this lesson of beautiful humanity. It is not only amidst the very grove of the Furies that tEdipus finds the peace ful goal of his wanderings—but round that grove itself the poet has lavished all the loveliest images of his fancy. There, in the awful ground of the ghastly sisters, the Nightingales sing under the ivy —there blooms the Nar cissus—there smiles the olive—there spring the fountains that fed Cephisus. Thus terror itself he surrounds with beauty, and the nameless grace of the outlawed tEdipus becomes the guardian of the benignant state, which gave the last refuge to his woes. (Ap plause.) A few years more and a new phase of civilisation developes itself in Athens. To that sentiment for the beautiful which in itself discovers the good, succeeds the desire to moralise and speculate. The influence of women on social life is more admitted—statesmen and sages gather round Aspasia—love occupies a larger space in the thoughts of men, and pity is derived from gentler, perhaps from more effeminate, sources. This change Euripedes-- no less practical than his predecessors in repre senting the popular temper of his age—this change, I say, Euripedes comes to depict in sententious aphorisms, in scholastic casuistry, accompanied, however, with the ten derest pathos, and enlisting that interest for which he is ridiculed by Aristophanes—the interest derived from con jugal relations and household life—the domestic interest— it is this which has made him of all the Greek dramatists the most directly influential in the modern stage. And it is Euripedes who has suggested to the classic tragedy of Italy and France two-thirds of whatever it possesses of genuine tenderness and passion. Ina word the Greek drama is not that marble perfection of artistic symmetry which it has toooften been represented to be, but a flesh and blood creation,identifying itself with the emotions most prevalent in the multitudes it addressed, and artificial rather by con ventions derived from its religious origin than by any very deep study of other principles of art than those which sym pathy with human nature teaches instinctively to the poet. The rules prescribed to the Greek dramatist, such as the unities, were indeed few, and elementary, belonging rather to the commencement of art than to its full deve lopment. There are few critics now-a-days, for instance, who will not recognise a higher degree of art in Shakspeare, when he transports his willing audience over space and time, and concentrates in Macbeth the whole career of guilty ambition, from its first dire temptation to its troubled rise and its bloody doom, than there can be in any formal rule which would have sacrified for dry recital the vivacity of action, and crowded into a day what Shak speare expands throughout a life. In fine, then, these Greek poets became our models —not as authorities for pe dantic laws, not to chill our invention by unsubstantial ideals or attempts to restore to life the mere mummies of antiquity—but rather, on the contrary, to instruct us that the writer who most faithfully represents the highest and fairest attributes of his own age has the best chance of an audience in posterity; and that whatever care we take as , to the grace or sublimity of diction, still the diction itself can only be the instrument by which the true poet would refine or exalt what ?—why, the feelings most common to the greatest number of mankind. (Applause.) We have heard too much about the calm and repose of classic art. It is the distance from which we take our survey that does not allow us to distinguish its force and its passion. Thus the rivulet, when near, seems more disturbed than the ocean beheld afar off. At the distance of two thousand years, if we do not see all the play of the waves, it is be cause we do not stand on the beach. (Applause.) The same practical identification with the intellectual attri butes of their age which distinguished the poetry, no less animates the prose of the ancient Greeks. The narratives of Herodotus, so simple yet so glo wing, were read to immense multitudes—now exciting their wonder by tale and legend —now gratifying their curiosity by accounts of barbarian customs—now inflaming their patriotism by minute details of the Persian myriads that exhausted rivers on their march, and graphic anecdotes of the Grecian men, whom the Medes at Marathon saw rushing into the midst of their spears, or whom the scout of Xerxes found dressing their hair for the festival of battle in the glorious pas s o f Thermopyho, No loom does the gmer mind of 134c.i. saga '6~ : : ~~.