The Sun. — London, England, 1830-01-20 00:00:00

MOORE'S LIFE OF BYRON. " In the extracts from his Journal, just given, there is a passage that cannot fail to have been remarked, when, in speaking of his admiration of some lady, whose name he has himself left blank, the noble writer says A wife would be the salvation of me.' It was under the convic tion, whi c h not only himself but some of his friend s e n t erta i ne d , o f the prudence of his taking timely refuge in matrimony, from those per plexities which form the sequel of all less re gular ties, that he had b een i n d uce d, a b out a Y. e ar ago, to turn his thoughts ser i ous ly t o mar - Il ge,--at least as seriously as his thoughts were eve r 'capable of being so turned, and chiefly, I believe, by t h e a d v i ce and i ntervention of his friend, Lady Melbourne, to become a suitor for the hand of a relative of that lady, Miss Mil banke. Though his proposal was not then ac cepted, every assurance of friendship and regard a ccompanied the refusal ; a wish was even ex pressed that they should continue to write to each other, and a correspondence—somewhat singular. ,between two young persons of different sexes, inasmuch as love was not the subject of it ---ensued between them. We have seen how highly Lord Byron estimated as well the virtues aS the accomplishments of the young lady; but it is evident that on neither. side, at this period, Was love either felt or professed. (c In the meantime new entanglements, in which his heart was the willing dupe of his fancy and vanity, came to engross the young Poet ; and still, as the usual penalties of such pursuits followed, he again found hi mse lf s i g hi ng f or t h e sob er y o k e of wedlock, as some security against these recurrences. There were, indeed, in the interval between Miss Milbanke's refusal and acceptance to him, two or three other young Women of rank, who, at different times, formed the subject of his matrimonial dreams. In the °ciety of one of these, whose family had long honoured me with their friendship, he and I passed much of our time during this and the Preceding spring ; and it will be found that in a subsequent part of his correspondence, he repre sents me as having entertained an anxious wish ,that h e , s ho u ld so f ar cultivate my fair friend's !avour as to give a chance at least of matrimony by the result. " That I more t h an once expressed some such fe eling is undoubtedly trne. Wit the Fully concurring h opinion, not only of himself but of other sonlykof his friends, that in marriage lay his c h ance of salvation from the sort of perplex ing attachments stantlytee into which he was now con pted I saw in none of those whom he requisitesadmj''e w ith More legitimate views, so many i nto fidelit f y o a r mi th e difficult task of winning him Combining happiness as the lady in question. . b eauty of the highest order with a nu intelligent and ingenuous—having just andeamio f g enough to give refinement to her taste, learnianrgt;oovvm ith uch taste to make pretensions to o vo , a patrician spirit proud as his Of ", but shewing it only in a delicate generosity spirit ; a feminine high mindedness, which to old h ave l e d h er to tolerate "his defects, in l lsider a ti on o f hi s noble qualities and his glory, h a d even to sacrifice silently some of her own ilI which PPiness, rather than violate the responsibility she stood pledged to the world for his. of was, from long experience, my impression the character of this lady • and perceiving clai -4 ' l 13 be attracted - ' lobvious yron to 1. l as to admiration, I felt a pleasure no less in .e 4 . zbedering justice to the still rare qualities which n 0 possessed, than in endeavouring to r a ise my h; he friend's mind t o th e con t em pl a ti on o f a er model of female character than he had, st me 'dv for himself, been much in the habit of 1 4• dyi ng. b een TO this extent do I confess myself to have att,ibt,',ofluenced by the sort of feeling which he (a 4 i t "Les to me. But in taking for granted tha t Will app ear h e did f rom o ne of his letters) Wi she l entertained any very decided or definite t trio en the subject, he gave more credit for if e l 'aness in my suggestions than I deserved. Je tt v e p ri th e lady herself; the unconscious ob- Ne i . , these speculations, by whom he was re gtii4heg in no other light than that of a - vp de e d acquaintance, could have consented to gl () ,. 4 ake th e per il ous —b u t s till poss ibl e an d viit t : ° us--achievement of attaching Byron to iii e ' I own that, sanguinely as in theory I Se ta ' hav e l oo k e d t o t h e resu l t , I s h ou ld h ave tin t , not without trembling, the happiness of chil i :hum I had kn o wn and v a lued from her , ( 1 1 . 0od r i s k e d i n t h e exper i ment . the shall now proceed to resume the thread of ",ourn a l which I had broken off, and of e ' it will be perceived, the Noble Author himself had for some weeks, at this time, inter. rupted the progress : " ' JOURNAL, 1814. " ' Feb. IS " Better than a month since I last jour nalised ; most of it out of London and at Notts —but a busy one and a pleasant, at least three weeks of it. On my return I find all the News papers in hysterics*, and town in an uproar, on the avowal and republication of two stanzas on Princess Charlotte's weeping at Regency's speech to Lauderdale in 1812. They are daily at it still ; some of the abuse good, all of it hearty. They talk of a motion in our House upon it— he it so. " Got up—read the Morning Post, contain ing the battle of Bonaparte, the destruction of the Custom-house, and a paragraph on me as long as my pedigree, and vituperative as usual. " llobhouse is returned to England. He is my best friend, the most lively, and a man of the most sterling talents extant. " The Corsair' has been conceived, written, published, &c. since I last took up this Journal. They tell me it has great success ; it was written con amour, and much from existence. Murray is satisfied with its progress ; and if the public are equally so with its perusal, there's an end of the matter. w • • i M • " Redde a little—wrote notes and letters, and am alone, which Locke says is bad company. —' Be not solitary, be not idle'—Um !—the idleness is troublesome ; but I can't see much to regret in the solitude. The more I see of men, the less I like them. If I could but say so of women too, all would be well. Why can't I ? I am now six and twenty; my passions have had enough to cool them ; my affections more than enough to wither them—and yet—and yet— always ,yet and but--' Excellent well, you are a fishmonger—get thee to a nunnery'—' They fool me to the top of my bent.' Midnight; " Began a letter, which I threw into the fire. —Redde—but to little purpose. Did not visit Hobhouse as I promised, and ought. No matter, the loss is mine—smoked cigars. " Napoleon !—this week will decide his fate.—All seems against him : but I believe and hope he will win—at least beat back the invaders. What right have we to prescribe Sovereigns to France ? Oh for a Republic ! Brutus, thou sleepest.' Hobhouse abounds in Continental anecdotes of this extraordinary man ; all in favour of his intellect and courage, but against his bon4ommie. No wonder ; how should he, who knows mankind well, do other than despise and abhor them. " The greater the equality, the more impar tially evil is distributed, and becomes lighter by the division among so many--therefore a Re public ! " More notes from Mad. de S— unan swered—and so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, but really her society is overwhelm ing—an avalanche that buries one in glittering nonsense—all snow and sophistry. 4. . . « • • " ' I wonder how the deuce anybody could make such a world ; for what purpose Dandies, for instance, were ordained—and Kings—and Fellows of Colleges--and women of ' a certain age '—and many men of any age—and myself, most of all ! Dives ne prisco et natus ab 'Macho, Nil interest, an pauper, et infimi De gente, sub dio mareris, Victima nil miserantis Orci. a . « • • • Omnes eodem cogimur. " ' Is there anything beyond ?—teho knows ? He that can't tell. Who tells that there is He who don't know. Arid when shall he know ? Perhaps when he don't expect, and ge nerally when he don't wish it. In this last re spect, however, all are not alike : it depends a good deal upon education —something upon nerves and habits, but most upon digestion. " ' Saturday, Feb. 19. " ' Just returned from seeing Kean in Ri chard. By Jove, he is a soul ! Life—nature —truth—without exaggeration or diminution. Kemble's Hamlet is perfect—but Hamlet is not nature. Richard is a man—and Kean is Richard. Now to my own concerns. *__ * " Went to Waite's. Teeth all right and whole ; but he says that I grind them in my sleep and chip the edges. That same sleep is no friend of mine, though I court him some times for half the 24. " ' Sunday, March 6. " On Tuesday last dined with Rogers, Ma dame de Stael, Mackintosh, Sheridan, Erskine, and Payne Knight ; Lady Donegal), and Miss K. there. Sheridan told a very good story of himself and Madame de Recamier's handker chief; Erskine a few stories of himself. She is going to write a big book about England, she says. I believe her. Asked by her how I liked Miss . . 's thing called . . , and answered (very sincerely) that I thought it very bad for her, and worse than any of the others. After wards thought it possible Lady Donegal!, being Irish, might be a patroness of . . , and was rather sorry for my opinion, as I hate putting people into fusses, either with themselves or their favourites ; it looks as if one did it on purpose. The party went off very well, and the fish was very much to my gusto. But we got up too soon after the women ; and Mrs. Corinne always lingers so long after dinner, that we wish her in —the draWing-room. • r • " March 10th, Thor'sday. " ' On Tuesday dined with Rogers, Mack intosh, Sheridan, Sharpe ; much talk and good ; all except my own little prattlement. Much of old times, Horne Tooke, the Trials, evidence of Sheridan, and anecdotes of those times, when I alas I was an infant. If I had been a man I would have made an English Lord Edward Fitzgerald. " Set down Sheridan at Brookes's, when, * " Immediately on the appearance of the Corsair ' (with these obnoxious verses, Weep, Daughter of a Royal line!' appended to it) a series of attacks, not confined to Lord Byron himself, but aimed also at all those who had lately become his friends, was commenced in the Courier and Morning Post, and carried on through the greater part of the months of February and March. The point selected by these writers, as a ground-work of censure in the poet, was one which now, perhaps, even themselves would agree to class among his claims to praise—namely, the atonement which he had endeavoured to make for the youthful violence of his satire, by a measure of Justice, amiable even in its overflowing', to every one he conceived he had wronged. " Notwith - standing the careless tone in which here and elsewhere he speaks of these assaults, it is evident that they annoyed him ; an effect which in reading thent over now we should be apt to wonder they could produce, did we not recollect the property which Dryden attributes to small wits,' in common with cer►ain other small animals : We scarce could know they live, but that they " 'rice following is a specimen of the terms in which these party scribes could then speak of one of the Masters of English Song They might have slept in oblivion with Lord Carlisle's drama, and Lord Byren's Poems.'__ Some certainly extol Lord Byron's Poems much, but most of the best judges place his Lordship rather low in the list of our minor Poets.'" by the bye, he could not have well set down him self, as he and I were the only drnik2cP. Sherry means to stand for Westmin , ter, as Cochrane, (the Stock-jobbing hoaxer) must vacate, Brougham is a candidate. I fear for poor dear Sherry. Both have talents of the higheSt or:ler, but the youngster has yet a character. W e shall see, if he lives to Sherry's age, how he will pass over the red hot ploughshares of public life. I don't know why, but I hate to see the old ones love ; particularly Sheridan, notwith standing all his mechancete. " Received many and the kindest thanks from Lady Portsmouth, pert and mere for my matchmaking. I don't regret it, as she looks the Countess well, and is a very good girl. it is odd how well she carries her new honours.— She looks a different woman, and high-bred. I had . no idea that I could make so good a Peeress. " < W. W. called : Lord Erskine, Lord Hol land, &c. &c. Wrote to . . the Corsair report. She says she don't wonder, since' Conrad is so like.' It is odd that one who knows me so thoroughly should tell me this to my face. How ever, if she don't know nobody can. " Mackintosh is, it ~ -, ;eems, the writer of the defensive article in the M ornin g Chronicle. If so, it is very kind, and more than I did for myself, " Thursday, March 17th. " ' I have been sparring with Jackson, for exercise, this morning ; and mean to continue and renew my acquaintance with the muffles.— My chest, and arms, and wind are in very good plight, and lam not in flesh. I used to be a very hard hitter, and my arms are very long for my height (five feet 81 inches). At any rate, exercise is good, and this the sweetest of all ; fencing and the broad sword never fatigued me half so much. " ' Tuesday, March 22. " Last night —party at Lansdown-house. To night—party at Lady Charlotte Grenville's —deplorable waste of time, and something of temper. Nothing imparted—nothing argued— talking without ideas ; if any thing like thought in my mind, it was not on the subjects on which we were gabbling—Heigho ! and in this way half London pass what is called life. " Let me see—what did I see ? The only person who much struck me was Lady S—d's eldest daughter, Lady C. L. They say she is not pretty. I don't know—every thing is pretty that pleases ; but there is an air of soul about her—and her colour changes—and there is that shyness of the antelope (which I delight in) in her manner, so much, that I observed her more than I did any other woman in the rooms, and only looked at anything else when I thought she might perceive, and feel embarrassed by my scrutiny. • * " ' April 10th. " ' I do not know that I am happiest when alone ; but when I am sure of that, I never am long in the society even of her I love (God knows too well, and the Devil probably too), without a yearning for the company of my lamp and my utterly confused and tumbled over li brary. Even in the day I send away my carriage oftener than I use or abuse it. Per esempro. I have not stirred out of these rooms for these four days past ; but I have sparred for exercise (windows open) with Jackson an hour daily, to attenuate and keep up the etherial part of me. The more violent the fatigue, the better my spi rits for the rest of the day ; and then my even ings have that calm nothingness of languor which I most delight in. To-day I have boxed one Od B, ,our—written an ,e to ,apoieon ionaparte —copied it—eaten six biscuits—drunk four bottles of soda-water—redde away the rest of my time—besides giving poor advice about this mistress of his, who is plaguing him into a phthisic and intolerable tediousness. • • • " ' To Mr. Murray. " ' Jan. 11th; 1814. " Correct this proof by Mr. Gifford's, (and from the MSS.), particularly as to the pointing. I have added a section for Gulnare, to fill up the parting, and dismiss her more ceremoniously. If Mr. Gifford or you dislike, 'tis but a sponge and another midnight better employed than in yawning over Miss . .; who, by the by, may soon return the compliment. " 'Wednesday or Thursday. " ' P.S. I have read . . It is full of praises of Lord Ellenborough ! ! ! from whi c h I infer near and dear relations at the bar and " Ido not love Madame de Staci ; but de pend upon it she beats all your natives hollow as an authoress, in my opinion ; and I would not say this if I could help it. " P.S. Pray report my best acknowledgments to Mr. Gifford, in any words that may best ex press how truly his kindness obliges me. I won't bore him with lip thank or notes. w w • w w w • "' To Mr. Moore. 'March 12th, 1814. • .:roo, • • • "' I cannot conceive how the Vault* has got ab out—but so it is. It is too farouche ; but truth to say, my satires are not very playful. I have the plan of an epistle in my head, at him and to him ; and if they are not a little quieter I shall embody it. I shall say little or nothing of myself. As to mirth and ridicule, that is out of my way; but Ithave a tolerable fund of sternness and contempt, and with Juvenal before me, I shall, perhaps, read him a lecture he has not lately heard in the C—t. From particular circamstances, which came to my knowledge almost by accident, I could tell him what he is. I know him well.' " Such effect had the passionate energy of Kean's acting on his mind, that once, in seeing his play of Sir Giles Overreach, he was so affected, as to be seized with a sort of convul sive fit ; and we shall find him some years after in Italy when the representation of Alfieri's Tra gedy of Mirza had agitated him in the same violent manner, comparing the two instances as the only ones in his life when anything under reality' had been able to move him so power fully." " To Mr. Moore. " Newstead Abbey, &pt. 20, 1814. " Here's to her who long Hath wak'd the poet's sigh The girl who gave to song What gold could never buy. My dear Moore, I am going to be married— that is, I am accepted, and one usually hopes the rest will follow. My Mother of the Gracchi (that are to be) you think too strait-laced for me, although the paragon of my children, and invested with golden opinion of all sorts of men,' and full of most blest conditions' as Desdeinona herself. Miss .Millbanke is the lady, and I have her father's invitation to pro ceed there in my elect capacity, which, however, * Those bitter and powerful lines which he wrote on the opening of the vault that contained the remains of Henry VIII. and Charles I. I cannot d T have settled some business in London, and got a blue coat. " She is said to be an heiress, but of that I really know nothing, certainly, and shall not inquire. But I do know that she has talent and excellent qualities, and you will not deny her judgment, after having refused six suitors and taken me.' The following lines are part of a poem writ ten by Lord Byron, in imitation of the " Devil's" Walk," by Coleridge, a poem generally attri to Porson " The Devil return'd to hell by two, And he staid at house till five ; When he dined on some homicides done in ragout, And a rebel or so in an Irish stew, And sausages made of a self-slain Jew, And bethought himself what next to do, And,' quoth he, I'll take a drive. I walk'd in the morning, I'll ride to-night; In darkness my children take most delight, And I'll see how my favourites thrive. " And what shall I ride in ?' quoth Lucifer, then— ' If I follow'd my taste, indeed, I should mount in a waggon of wounded men, And smile to see them bleed. But these will be furnished again and again, And at present my purpose is speed ; To see my manor as much as I may, And watch that no souls shall be poach'd away, ' I have a state-coach at C House, A chariot in Seymour-place ; But they're lent to two friends, who make me amends By driving my favourite pace; And they handle their reins with such 'a grace, I have something for both at the end of their race. " So now for the earth to take my chance. Then up to the earth sprung he ; And making a jump from Moscow to France, He stepp'd across the sea, And rested his hoof on a turnpike road, No very great way from a bishop's abode. " But first as he flew, I forgot to say, That he hover'd a moment upon his way To look upon Leipsic plain; And so sweet to his eye was its sulpbury glare, And so soft to his ear was the cry of despair, That he perched on a mountain of slain; And he gazed with delight from its growing height, Nor often on earth had he seen such a sight, Nor his work done half as well : For the field ran so red with the blood of the dead, That it blush'd like the waves of Hell ! Then loudly, and wildly, and long laugh'd he ; ' Methinks they have here little need of me !" • • • • • • • " But the softest note that sooth'd his ear Was the sound of a widow sighing ; And the sweetest sight was the icy tear Which Horror froze in the blue eye clear Of a maid by her lover lying— As round her fell her long fair hair ; And she look'd to Heaven with that frenzied air Which seem'd to ask if a God were there ! And, stretch'd by the wall of a tuin'd hut, With its hollow cheek, and eyes half shut, A child of famine dying : And the carnage begun, when resistance is done, And the fall of the vainly flying ! 0 * " But the Devil has reach'd our cliffs so white, And what did he there, I pray? If his eyes were good, he but saw by night What we see every day; But he made a tour, and kept a journal Of all the wondrous sights nocturnal, And he sold it in shares to the Men of the Row, Who bid pretty well—but they cheated him, though 1 " The Devil first saw, as he thought, the Mail, Its coachman and his coat; So instead of a pistol he cock'd his tail, And seized him by the throat : Alia,' quoth he, what have we here ? 'Tis a new barouche, and an ancient peer !' So he set him on his box again, And bade him have no fear, But be true to his club, and staunch to his rein, His brothel, and his beer ; ' Next to seeing a Lord at the Council board, I would rather see him here.' # . " The Devil got next to Westminster, And he turn'd to ' the room' of the Commons ; But he heard, as he purposed to enter in there, That the Lords' had received a summons ; And he thought, as a quondam Aristocrat,' He might peep at tke Peers, though to hear them were flat; And he walk'd up the House so like one of our own, That they say that he stood pretty near the throne. " He saw the Lord L—l seemingly wise, The Lord W—d certainly silly, And Johnny of Norfolk—a man of some size— And Chatham, so like his friend Billy ; And he saw the tears in Lord E—n's eyes, Because the Catholics would not rise, In spite of his prayers and his prophecies; And he heard—which set Satan himself a staring-- A certain Chief Justice say something like swearing. And the Devil was shock'd—and quoth he, I must go, For I find we have much better manners below. If thus he harangues when he passes my border, I shall hint to friend Moloch to call him to order.' " reral Mee tend feW this try ta- w 'he og :o- eir be iey er g iy, Is ly, F UNERAL OF SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. The arrangements for paying the last tribute to the remains of this distinguished individual are on the most splendid and extensive scale. The body will this day be placed in a strong oak coffin, which Will be covered with lend. This will be then placed in an outer coffin, or case, and the body lu,v log been soldered and screwed down, the whole will be removed from the late residence of the deceased in Russell-square, to Somerset-house, where it will lie in state until the procession moves forward, which will be at eleven o'clock to-morrow. The rooms in which the company will assemble at Somerset-house have been covered with black cloth, as well as that in which the body of Sir Thomas will be placed. The company Will assemble at ten o'clock, and the porters who are to keep the door wear new suits of mourning, Which have been presented to them for the occasion. The numerous persons who are to assist in the pro cession will meet at nine o'clock in the morning, and proceed to the grand square of Somerset House, where the procession will be formed. The body will be placed in the hearse precisely at eleven o'clock • this will be drawn by six horses; the car riage of Sir Thomas will follow, and a private car riage of his Majesty immediately after. The re spective carriages will then take up in order, and the whole proceed on to St. Paul's Cathedral, where the body will be deposited. DESCRIPTION Or THE COFFIN. The outer coffin is covered with rich black velvet, su- Peibly ornamented with silvered nails; it has four pair of silvered handles, three on each side, and one at the bead and foot) at the latter of which there are also placed plates of silver ornaments. Around the top of the sides of the coffin two rows of silvered nails are placed, and below thenianother row. The intermediate Braces are filled up with ornamental plates of a smaller size and devices Worked in silvered nails. INSCRIPTION ON THE COFFIN. The principal plate is headed with the armorial bearing of the deceased, and consists of Queen's metal, highly sil vered, underneath which is the following inscription:— SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, KNT., L.L.D., PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF ARTS IN LONDON, KNIGHT OF THE LEGION OF HONOUR. Died the 7th January, In the 6lst year of his age. The cor ners o f the squares on the lid of the coffin are tastefully ornamented with what are termed " Trafalgar Corners," which are also made of silver. On the lid of the inner coffin a plate will be placed, a small plate, de scriptive of the age and character of Sir Thomas. On the whole this will be one of the most imposing spectacles that ha s been witnessed since the funeral of the immortal N elson. A very long line of carriages, which will in clude a number of those of the Nobility and Gentry, will close the precession. CORONER'S INQUEST. For the last few days the inhabitants of Fulham have been in a state of considerable excitement, in consequence of a fine male child having been acci dentally discovered to have been smothered on the premises of Mrs. Bastfortl, the mistress of a re spectable academy for young ladies, at that place. On the first alarm being given, the local authori ties were on the alert, and the strictest inquiries were made, and in consequence a young female, named Ann Kettle, about 22 years of age, a cook in Mrs. Bastford's establishment, was taken into cus tody by the parish constable. On Monday afternoon Mr. STIRLING, at a re spectable Jury, assembled at the King's Head, Fulham, when the following evidence was ad duced I. W. Russell, a gardener, was employed on Friday last in emptying a privy, which bad not been opened for upwards of twelve years, at Mrs. Bastford's Academy at Fulham. Near the surface of the soil he found the body of a male child, and instantly gave information of his discovery. The child was subsequently taken to the workhouse. Frances Russell, was servant in the employ of Mrs. Bastford. Ann Kettle, the female in custody, entered her mistress's service as cook about seven or eight weeks ago. After the body of the child had been discovered, Ann Kettle confessed to her that it was her child, and that she had delivered the child herself, and thrown it down the privy about a month ago. She said it was dead at the time. CORONER—Did she state the reason why she had thrown it down ? Witness—She said she was fearful it would bring shame upon her. CORONER—In what part of the house did Ann Kettle sleep ? Witness—ln the same room with me. CORONER--And were you not aware she was in the family way ? Witness—l was not, Sir; I had no idea of it. CORONER—And did you know nothing of her being delivered of a child ? Witness—Nothing whatever, Sir. Mr. Holmes, surgeon, of Fulham, was called in on Friday lust to examine the deceased child. He examined it as carefully as the state of its decom position admitted. From the experiments he made, he was of opinion that the child had never drawn breath. The Jury, after a long consultation, were unani mously of opinion that the mother of the child had unlawfully concealed its birth, and returned a verdict accordingly. The CORONER then issued his warrant for the committal of Ann Kettle, the mother of the de ceased child. The Docks contain fewer vessels at the pre sent moment than we recollect fur some years past. Work is, consequently , uncommohly scarce among all who derive their support ftomshipping, and much dis tress prevails amon g t h e por t ers an d l a h ourers .—Liverpool Albion. per sons SCIENTIFIC VARIETIES. (From the Scotsman.) We have derived the materials for the follow ing Notices (except the last), from the 14t1 and 15th numbers of Professor Jamieson's Phi losophical Journal.--They consist of abstracts in a popular form, of articles in the two num bers, mixed up with our own comments and dis cussions. CHRONOMETERS.--Captain Wauchope of the Royal Navy has suggested to the Admiralty, a plan for regulating chronometers, which is now under trial at Portsmouth. It is known that of all the methods of finding the longitude, the most easy in practice, and, therefore, the best, is that of comparing the time found by observing the sun's place at mid day, with that indicated by a chronometer adjusted to the me ridian of Greenwich. The great disadvantage attending the process is, that the ship's chro nometer must be taken ashore to be compared with a standard one, or to be regulated by astro nomical observations. Sometimes ships have not time for this operation, which is, besides, at tended with some risk to the instrument. To simplify the process, Captain Wauchope pro poses, that a flag staff should be erected on a conspicuous spot where a well regulated chro nometer is kept, sliming the time at Greenwich ; and that a little before -noon a signal should be hoisted, which should be hauled down at the precise instant when it is noon at Greenwidi. Here, for instance, the signal might be pl;:ced on the Calton Hill, and made to exhibit Green wich time, as ascertained by a chronometer regulated by astronomical observations in the Observatory. A ball of four feet diameter placed on a staff, would serve as a signal, and its descent would enable every ship in Leith Roads to get a correct rate, without trouble, and far more accurately than by the best sextant and artificial horizon in the hands of the most experienced observer. It would at the same time enable all the watchmakers in the city to compare the going of their time pieces with true time. The masters of dock-yards at the great ports, and at the naval stations abroad, might be entrusted with the management of the signals ; and a transit instrument placed at a north and south window in a store, would answer all the purposes of an Observatory. THIBET.—We shall by and bye have more correct accounts of one region of Asia which has long baffled the curiosity of Europeans, we mean the great central plateau of Thibet. A Dr. Gerard has lately visited the valley of the Setledge, where he found rye growing at the height of 15,000 feet, in the latitude of 32 or 33 ; and fossil shells were found in Secondary limestone at a still greater elevation. Even at the height of 20,000 feet, in this parallel, Dr. Gerard did not encounter perpetual snow, which ought to be found descending to a lower level by 9,000 feet. "In these regions, which for a long time were inaccessible, Dr. Gerard met with one of the most intrepid philologists known in Hungary, named Cosma de Kords. This traveller, after advancing towards the centre of Asia, arrived at Kinnaour, in Thibet, where he fixed himself in the Monastery of Kanum, and lived among the monks of the Lamaic religion. Aided by a learned Lama, lie made great pro gress in the study of the literature of Thibet, and discovered an Encyclopaedia in forty-four volumes, which treated of the arts and sciences. The medical part of this large work forms five volumes. The art of lithography has been practised at the principal city of Thibet from time immemorial, and it has been used to dis play the anatomy of the different parts of the human body. It appears that science and letters, flying from the tyranny of the caste of the Brah mins, abandoned the plains of Hindostan, and took refuge on the mountains of Thibet, where, until the present time, they remained totally un known to the rest of the world." HOT SPRINGS.—Hot . springs are most nu merous in volcanic districts, and near primitive mountains. Dr. Bishoff, a German philosopher, endeavoured to ascertain by experiment, what quantity of heat would be required to maintain the hot springs at Carlsbad, in Bohemia, at the temperature which they presently exhibit, for 7,000 years ; and he finds that it would require 5,000,000,000 cubic feet of half melted basalt, to produce the'requisite supply of caloric. The basalt is supposed to be put at a melting heat into the water at 11 of Iteaumur, and always added in sufficient quantity to keep up the tem perature at 59 (164 of Fahrenheit.) The 5,000,000,000 feet of basalt amount to nearly one 25th part of a cubic mile, or a mass about twice as large as Arthur's Seat. This affords a strong argument against the old doctrine, which ascribed the heat of warm springs to beds of decomposing pyrites - or burning coal. In deed the existence of an internal heat pervading the whole mass of earth, is the only cause that can afford an adequate explanation of this and some other phenomena. RELATIVE AGE OF MOUNTAINS.—M. Elie de Beaumont read lately to the French Academy of Sciences, a Memoir, in which he developes some interesting ideas respecting the relative age of mountains. The doctrine of Werner was, that the primitive mountains crys tallized first out of the universal fluid in the positions which they now occupy ; that the tran sition rocks were deposited on their sides at a lower elevation ; and then the secondary strata above these, filling up the bottoms of the vast cavities originally existing among the older rocks. But the discoveries made during the last twenty years have led many geologists to believe that the relative age of the rocks follows an order in some measure the reverse of this— that the original surface of the globe was formed of strata nearly horizontal, that chain of moun tains rose up from below, at different periods, bursting through the level envelope, and that this process was going on from time to time, while the newer secondary rocks were still forming.— Supposing this opinion to be correct, the newt question is, at what geological epoch were the different known chains of mountains protruded from below. The positions of the sedimentary, that is the secondary and tertiary strata, afford data for determining this point. All these have been formed in a position either nearly or en tirely horizontal. If we find some of them lean ing against the protruded masses of Granite or Trap in positions highly inclined, we may con clude that these have been lifted out of their original situation by the upileaving of the central mass, and of course are older than the rocks that disturbed them. If we find other strata in contact with the same masses, but touching them only with the edges, and still occupying a hori zontal position, we may conclude that these have been deposited since the disturbing force ceased to act, and are newer than the central ihus, to take an example from our own neigh bourhood, the sandstone strata on the east, west, and north side of Braid and Blackford Hills clip away from these hills in every direction, or they ' may be said to lean against the hills with their edges raised at a considerable angle. They cou!d not have this position originally, and must therefore have assumed it in consequence of the masses of claystone and clinkstone composing these hills, being thrust up from below long after the sandstone beds were formed. As re gards the surface of the earth, therefore, Braid and Blackford Hills are newer than the sand stone strata which surround them. Pro ceeding upon data of this and other descrip tions, M. Beaumont thinks—l. That the moun tains of Erzegebirge in Saxony, and Cote d'Or in Burgundy, are newer than the Jura limestone, but older than the Green Sand and chalk. 2. That the Pyrenees and Appenines are of about 'the same age with the chalk formation. 3. That the western part of the Alps is newer than the tertiary formations, and had in fact been raised up after the last of the solid strata were formed, but prior to the deluge. Nor is it obvious that the protrusion of such immense masses as the Alps or Pyrenees from the bottom of the sea, must have dislodged a vast body of water, and created a series of waves high and powerful enough to cause a transitory but destructive flood, by pass ing over the parts of the neighbouring dry land which were only one or two thousand feet above the sea. In this way, he thinks, some of those re volutions may be accounted for which seem to have extinguished animal life at different periods, and prepared the way for new creations ; and he considers it as not improbable that the last flood, the deluge of the Scriptures, was caused by the protrusion of the Andes. Without pro nouncing on the soundness of this last opinion, we may state, that the leading idea of Mr. Beau mont's hypothesis has often occurred to our selves. Sir James Hall, for instance, in exa mining the diluvial scratchings and groovings on the surface of the rocks in Scotland, found that on the west coast they pointed to the Atlantic, on the east to the German Ocean, and on the south to St. George's Channel. He accounts for this by supposing, that though the great waves them selves passed eastward, the tail or residue of their waters rushed down from the hills in all directions to the plains. But it has often struck us, that the diversity of direction in the scratches is more simply explained by supposing that the currents which produced them consisted merely of the waters dislodged by the upheaving of the Grampians and the great Transition chain of the south of Scotland—which waters would of course rush away to the sea on all sides from the central masses. It does not follow that these two mountain ranges were raised at the same time, or either of them at or.e thrust. Ages may have passed between the protrusion of the one and the other, and each may have mounted to its present elevation by a succession of lilts. It is not impossible that either of them may be rising still. Perhaps the earthquakes felt annually at Comrie, may be the expiring efforts of that force, which first made the Gram pians ascend from the bottom of the ocean. Neither does it follow that the Andes, or other American mountains, may not have risen long after our Scottish hills existed, and caused ano ther new and transitory inundation. CANALS.—LEAKAGE AND WASTE OF WATER.—We are told in the " Narrative of Major Long's Expedition," that the waste of water from leakage and evaporation in the New York Canal, is much greater than was anticipated, amounting, "on an average, to one hundred cubic feet per minute for every mile of route." (p. 71.) This is equal to 144,000 cubic feet, or 900,000 gallons per day, a quan tity of water not much less than what would serve the city of Edinburgh for the same space of time. The genet al breadth of the canal is 40 feet ; and supposing the annual evaporation to be 60 inches, the quantity which passes off" from one mile of the surface in one day, would only be 3000 cubic feet, or the 47th part of what is loSt by leakage. Such a loss from leakage seems to us scarcely credible. Either Liere must be some error in the statement, or the work must surely be very i mperfect. The fun6ral of the unfortunate Miss I3oTH took place on Sunday in Poplar Church, quite in a private manner. Lieutenant CROWTHER and his friend Air. SCI MIDT attended on the occasion. The deceased was interred, as she had requested, by the side of her sister. It is said that a lady of rank has taken the surviving sister under her protection. REMARKABLE OCCURRENCE.-It is a re. markable circumstance, that No. 11 Pilot-boat has been at sea since Monday, the 21st ult., and that, during that long period, she has not boarded the whole of her hands ; an oc currence which, we have been told, has not occurred in the course of the last twenty years. The circumstance is owing to the prevalence of easterly winds during the last fuur weeks.—Liverpool HINCKLEY.—We are very sorry to hearthat the distress of the poor b f this town has been increased this week by two hundred additional families, at least, being added to the list of unemployed poor, in consequence of the disturbed state of the stocking manufacture. Out of a population of about 6,000, upwards of 4,000 are sup. ported by the poor-rates and charitable contributions,— Champion of the East. RARA - Avis.—For fourteen years, a black, bird, singularly marked, its head and shoulders being per fectly white, has regularly made its appearance in the garden of a gentleman in High-street, Boston, and be came in fact so constant a visitant as to be invariably fed, and domesticated. The poor bird's mellifluous notes, however, ceased yesterday, when ho was found dead in the garden of his benefactor.--Boaton Gazette. of B ; co t l in fe sb u u t r i y i , te w d as pa h r e f i s d h o e n s A o i f o nSdta.yG even ingi! es Tavern, for the p ur p ose o f t a ki ng : fu n r d t A h aS e t r ttn:l s i t eGe e e p Feto s ii.rellge i g n e:'" op o p n o s s ' ition to the conduct of the select vestry. At about half-past seven, Mr. ROGERS, the senior churchwarden of St. Giles's, opened the business of the evening. There were about 300 persons present. Mr. Wax Liv having been called to the Chair, congro.it. hated the parishioners on the result of their trial, by wh' a cti it was decided that the vestry was an open one. P,e then censured the conduct of the select vestry, mad said that the Bill which they proposed to bring into Parliament in the next session, was a mast infamous document. Mr. WAXLEY concluded by moving several Resolutions, which went to pledge the Meeting to oppose the select vestry, and any Bill which they might bring in, the provisions of which did not secure to the parishioners the annual elec. tion of a responsible body for the regulation and govern ment of these parishes, or any Bill which shall violate or tend to diminish any of the rights, privileges, or elective franchise now enjoyed by the inhabitant rate-payers. Th e Resolutions having been agreed to, the Meeting adjournd.a The following anecdoto of BYRON is related by his biographer, Mr, MOORE While Lord Byfor. and Mr. PEEL were at Harrow together, a tyrant scone few years older, whose name was ....... . claimed a right to, fag young PEEL, which olaim (whether rightly or wrongly I know not) Prv,i, resisted. His resistanee„ however, was in vain • not only sub. dued him, but determined to punish the refractory slave; and proceeded forthwith to put this determination in prac tice, by inflicting a kind of bastinado on the inner fleshy side of the boy's arm, which, during the eperatiou, was, twisted round with some degree of technical skill, to ren der the pain snore acute. While the stripes were succeed ing each other, and poor . PHEL writhing under them, BYRON saw and felt for the misery of his friend ; and, although he knew that ho was not strong enough to fight , with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indignation, asked very humbly if tell him, how many stripes he meant to inflict ?'—.‘ Why,' returned the executioner, you little rascal, what is that to you Because, if you please,' %Ai d Bractx, holding . out his arm, I would take half "