The Sun. — London, England, 1844-06-03 00:00:00

fON . r A ul t OW es. the pr. P o w 10 ) 0 bas i 5 • , 4vale i g ets obst up, g _._wouP e for r Jaw ?,4rs in 1)" p rice tit! ' ut silver 411 len]. nr o Wr ij Lel l6l4; t ptyln en- , in p if an ou t as o bvico tile" P ri lf -le ou nce. ° the si'‘ t ' et , o reaace": sEssr'' .satun s( r ie'llo9l4 hi~• . 1 ' UP' purOlv •• 0 .01111; 11 . 1 , • t hp 111 Ael) w i t t skeP r, ' covet' ore here i s lO3 1 this et, he tr uul et• tru inp., i ich it e , g3 t },• h ods uY t hit ,eliev e Or o t sae ii; iig li e t • t,t h er ir th el $ 135 t boa ertt , th e es' .tion . uieo oulP le •re te3 aril ,ll, s 3 eld - leer of • ater' sl j o g Saunter* e' —POr t CO . t he o t jettP peree i of d igt ' , 0 1 d a nd o'7 o - Pu t the'" e tilv • , ote j t exh i a t beel deo his" 1'64;0J Lich Dg' E MAGAZINES. BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZI..\E. Captain Jesse's Memoirs of the celebrated—or hther notorious —Beau Brummell—the ultinius .110- '7l4ll°ll m, that is to say, the last of the Beaus, who exercised as deipotic a sway over the west-end as eve r did B eau N ash at Bath, forms the sulject of an zirrnieusing notice i n th e present Number (f this Maga Strange to say, this egreg i ous coxcomb, who nsever had a grandfather, and w h o h a d no l arge f or - Lune to back his pretensions, was held in the utmost 'iehest reverfmt. - --e—not t o say awe— b y the proudest and the f and mo s t anc i ent ar i stocrats in the land; made ortune of every tradesman whom he employed, Inebrcmght int o ce l e b r i ty every man w i th whom he , d , • T have had Brummell for a guest at once lka " 6 ed his h os t f or adm i ss i on to Alinack's. To have b een quizzed by Brummel was equivalent to a se ntence of ostracism from the beau monde. To have be en seen walking with Brummell, was- to ensure the !fortunate individual' the entry into Carlton House. ,:ven When cut by the Prince, this incomparable an still ma i ntained his proud position in high so igety, and his well-known threat of " bringing old a Zge into fashion," by way of spiting the " un the t eft tl" . Regent, was scarcely a mere empty boast. he determi ne d on e l ect i ng a c hi mney-sweep to t ", l; nne of fa s hi on, we rea ll y b e li eve b e could have thi-se And by what means did Brummell acquire ttserae unr tion_hs ivsalledi influence ? Was it by hi s p ersona l Wealth—his ancient descent—hi jai r n t n h ! s as an orat or , - a s t a t esman, a w i t, or a poet . i n A I ng of the sort. It was solely by his good taste wi s " r es; and his invention of the starched cravat ? 1 0 4' 4 a cotnment is this on the habits, the tastes, the p at Y • int elligence, and sound discriminating sense of Bortrician society during the boasted Regency, which of e Tury scribes have defined as the Augustan age pule 4?gland Walter Scott in the height of his po ...,ArntY—Lord Byron in the meridian of his powers • th: °r e in the golden days of " Lallah Rookh" and et 'lrish Melodies"—never exercised the influ : over the lounging fashionable world, that was h it r eised by a man who had nothing to boast of hut likA re N- Pid impudence and skill in the art of dress. But, ly tts , -a Poleon and other mighty potentates, Brummell L ei `loomed to meet with his reverses. He met his Psie in the loss of his fortune at play—his abdica tehisbrought about by his duns—and he found ber_S. Helena at Caen, where he died in 1840, a Pa of l e a lunatic, and in rags! " Traditions and t h e llPper Lusatia" is a curious account of some e s uperstitions still prevalent in a small, se oistered district of Germany, on the confines of ar e etn ia• The fai r y t a l es i n troduced into the article t, lvl er Y_agreeable and novel specimens of their class. S a u ° Wrot e Gil Bi as ?" repu di ates the claims of Le pi p to the h onour o f t hi s a d m i ra bl e production, and tioa es : ! by a chain of reasoning, that in our estima orivh7 conclu3ive, that it was entirely of Spanish phr„ In the brief sketch of " Mi c h ae l Kalil ' op Irnas,o'ne of the Greek patriots, we find one 04: anecdotes illustrative of the private and public 1 rof King Otho, which certainly will not • the reader with any very profound admira tipttn9this saga City. But crowned heads are often .1U w i, L u e exceedingly thick ones. " Africa" furnishes niSZ:;_tnncla minute and circumstantial information /le t i t : ' "ng the interior of this vast, mysterious conti 'teller.. w hich has been the grave of so many til , 1 ,7 , and which seems destined to all shoneeterit to 41; the enterprise of man. " Columbus" of Ver's,p:'innnons's elegant and elaborate specimens of .Lication. We subjoin the opening stanzas R ise, Victor, from the festive board Flush'd with triumphal wine, 4,,, id lifting high thy beaming swor d, 'ired by the flattering Harper's chord, h o hymns thee hadvine. ~',3 w W at the glutted shrine of i Fate TVIA dark•red brand to consecrate! hug, dread, and doubtf u l was th e f ra y at give s t h e s t ars thy name to-day. t all i s over; roun d t h ee now F ame sh ou t s , s p o il p ours , an d capt i ves b ow, N ° stormier joy can Earth impart, -C husi thrills in lightning through thy heart. Lover, with the soft guitar, V e to the olive-woods afar, nd to thy friend, the listening brook, „„.(I.lr)ne reveal that raptured look; -( lie maid so long in secret oved— . 41, Parent's angry will retnoiOd— biS morning saw betrothed,thine, Lif That Sire the pledge, consenting, blest, bright as motes in golden wine, Is dancing in thy breast. Stu osina n astute, the final hour ' .„1-trives long-contested Power; t 4 Tlf , tonne wile eine ends to aid, . r 111 1 1 aim! Finciple betray'd; sloatle speoch r the.plan profound, - F r - rsiled years;•success has erOWn'd; I , ?; ni ghtl(he VotC upon.whose tongue, v t . niceippeiged-Division hung, thirre , --bentuth that placid brow: , ikhat feelings throb exulting now! f lls;—on grandeur's base ' 0 shake the nations in.bis place! • Pat ric, Love; - •Amtiltion! what are Ye, , r n' With, alllYiKii.wasiing passions' war, 0° the great Strife that, like a sea . ersvvept his soul tuinSiltuoi.islY. Whose face gleains•on me like a star— A sta r that gleams.t- 7 , l inciugh murky clouds— _Ahere begirt by struggling crowds sPell-hound Loiterer I stand, r e- 4 'e a print-shop in the. Strand? g hat are your eager hopes and fears v b °se minutes wither men like years— our schemes defeated or fulfill'd, . I '4? th e emotions dread that thrilrd s frame on that Octoher night, II When, watc hi ng b y t h e l one l y mast , e saw 071 shore the moving light, felt, though darkness veil'd the sight, The long -sought World was his at last? k r, ~, BENTLEY'S his ,4 physiologyan, ' 4411 1 5 ray here continues somewhat heavy d 4:4 L'f "which, though . N • ie, MISCELLANY. •- of N I ,. in manner, contains metropolis, character of the dof the lie gof the levelling places, the lord much instructive wealthiest kik: taalcs—" In country or thematte!. ihk ) r, the greatest landowner, kik ' avercrows all other distinction3 — he greatness does not his house, 4 ilf the fekte e pl ace .in London 1 in his own d is the great lid ' gr eat on y his tra es ‘&,. b!xt door; he is d servants ; good ' l ak• hi as a of him, save i , i ) - 3 Own dependents .an is n o There self-conceit, 4'1 411 , have no conception a man's . _ t 111.14-7 r." This is justly observed. laid L 'll‘e the metropolis to cure 1 11 4 ,,`"„ inc him to assess his be constant b l3; brqe-r,a• Is he clever ? He uch cleverer. I . s l , tieh ‘oto contact with willmanypretensions at a right ti ,._Qhe r. ' l ,e Will find - hundred . s . — _ perseverin? soon 4natt , -(4 he_ ardent—aspirmdgon social life will .. b , toihri. ois experience of Lon do lilies, 3 qualities, himself eminently make' 1'1441:4 him that these are but ordinary e,i0,1,,,i he ea scarcely hope to like our_ tILII(Il hos• A vast, crowded t__en *helettl 1 1 b 1 " it has ''' well called going for t, 4y on as is hourly capital, ush- Wkrd eattlpetition in every form the konl;!ati talents of all sorts are as the patrician, in s tti., 4 , where the plebeian jostles t the Minister excite capital eari,!' and even a great Cabine plentiful as m lil i .41 .tY of r -by place in the 5 tip,. no one passe t possible and be oti,l", We say, is the. bos with a just s tot h i 4 to iinbue a man ;—an fnormous earn I)iiij estiniate of himsolel and of common sears! 'P i , 14 ,V3Tlity t o th e level improve It t ,Il rortUnes of the Scattergood Family" lower his a . I*, t'rc ` 3 t as they proceed, though . of the , author's fo l d not the freshness and vivacl.vh_ins i of a Watere iritik:;,‘'orlts of fiction. The in Iv they but w certainly htheir way, ,5111141 are amusing enoug- "erry weal spared some of the puns, tolerable,not to be and ~ ;11diii,ed,!1 say-____" are most Croupier" reve . ai c -4 ,. 4 it i: The " Confessionsa which—as Dog s, th e -'l'Y hesitating manner, a few ses in the metro- Doh, more fashionable gambling- hou , appear all the of of the l e , o truthonfessons which wear interest, but it mysteries is ,°' , and exhibits 11 1 . 4 -41 interest ea"° character, . In the of a painful. . t be read light. 'hating pc,e44 tlature in a most hutm without Visitor," a popular ie (41 th e ~ m and his ..,,etid f . , Manxman to humorous ‘ceolltit°' ~,Ine Isle of Man, i s turned have been 111°r e 1 1 ' -tile author, however, would attention to Nil-4,7%4ra! if he paid a little more ” is a willing_ cal st,„-- orevity, 4, \Vhig and Tori to suit all • tesie„4nen of a newspapei calculated itieal opinions, put i's ‘"asinuch as it professes no political ments dvertise 4e l• au itisively .made up of droll a Styria," , •xe. , i - i it.at obituaries. " A Ramble through if only for the 'Writ ,serves a passing word of notice, descriptions. 4 r ti,,-"' rninuter e • •of its landscape a -anab lii ie subjoined 'ss of the practices of 16 of 0 is- house , sketch ,4 Confession s a PolApj,;; ‘te are indebted to the . ken : "11,,, ' 'lf which we have already sP° the game, "lle ali '`"'4l; the various aspects presented by ere often htro, Illations of ho e and disappointment w -hoth 1q,,,a nil felt, and as P expressed ; curses n Da g 'sep, were str on gly gl d with the lan, h o I can l '''ve r p ky .:N,,,y re n i t ie „ ices o f such. scenes, been Playinget one unforin'tultascte individual. H e had eine __ t. ills pg4.Beßne hours, evidently under unusual ex e cit an _ n d he N, till'''3' had all gradually quitted the ae PI h ;ids and in hi t , e box aloae: he bad it all in his own a . Lvery ti i4 , °'•vo way. Not a main could he throwt of 14‘'s bit4alied the unfortunate result, I was the object I t tlt ~-,, re4t invective and mlledictihn; but, although. All hi s ,-fra°Yed at this c du'et • I heartily pitied him. in tx,, '''•: l were U seless •, • 5 i i ons oddess was Nble ‘ d h, ft4e`eaPr ' • last heavy stake,d. tu ia 11. , ais e threw out with his 10,)k. tirst eto•,o ago' of tear s . He was a tah,goo sa_ ttikt'rik• PrePossessiN':YO a n d I may truly and hu • .4ever wit 3? Ung plan, more painful . he talli„tint. That 'a:2 occurrence t before had 4 .11 hi s or; 'hat which' i.,t a moment one—as ir . Erie,„,,,. 11, and still la be,r e him, was g ‘ote ' I4 .Y lost t o 11' . though -4 h a d sun_ t o k the hot q` of th e t ith •un as 14 . . is 41st onaleas ocean! To add tithe poignancy -day u r ,ii &tress, the fonoWiN orning was settling . pt,e,e berby, and he was % In some hundreds. %Vith_ 4(ii!tliog an uPon hi lti s e l h tl e s eks lie begged and jrnto ` s e abi, °," the loan of nne hundred' pounds, in order _ 11 444 L? l oake at leastosorneashow of honour. It .75.. -41' IVletber the request was ultimately "L" plied with in whole or in part is not known to me; but not long afterwards he became insane! And where are now his friends, his compeers of a season? Some have taken the benefit of the Insolvent Court ; some have passed through a fiercer ordeal; others, with minimized capitals, have become the frequenters of minor hells; all with deteriorated fortunes and reputation. " It may be thought, that a gentleman who has lost above a thousand pounds in a gaming-house may have the right of entree by prescription. Nothing is more ullike the fact. From the height of his prosperity to its declension, every occultation in his course is noted with the • nicest . observation ; for instance, playing Cot- lowor stakes, a . more febrile excitement when Using, occasionally borrowing of a friend, a cheque not punctually paid. atnl, finally, a small sum borrowed of the bank, to enable him to take up a bill under a very pressing emerge ncy—these are the little circumstances which lead to his ultimate exclusion. On some fine evening during the ensuing season he calls, thinking to be admitted as heretofore ; but he is stopped at the first d , or with the ready excuse, that there is nothing doii,g. On the next call, he is told that 'there is no play going on.' _ "No play ? So you said the !act time I called ; and have-sit.ee understood ,from a friend that there. %%115 pl ty. Let me in ; I want to see' the manager." " lie is sot in, Sir," . "Oh, very well, then, I shall take some other oppor tanity seeing hink" „ . ” When he does see the chef, the latter expresses most sincerc ,- regret .at the occurrence, and makes a most sp , , , cious promise to haVe the interdict removed. Thus fissured, who now is to oppose his entrance ? Not the porter,:surely ! Yes ; the - very same persm still insists thit the vent man is not within ; 'that he knows nothing-about the explanatiun given, and therefore can not a,dmit him. • Tits repulsed, the applicant murmurs a threat about not, paying, and thus ends thc.. matter. What is here stated must' be understood as applying to commoners ; for a per"-, hOWever poor, can always be turned-to some account." NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. In Mr. Cyrus Redding's entertaining recollections of the author of " Vathek," which lead off the Num ber before us, occurs the following characteristic anecdote of the late George the Third :—" lie was not ' only capable of the grossest • duplicity," said Mr. lieckford, " but he was destitute of feeling too. I went to the levee aftef - Lard George Gordon's riot, the military had just fired on the mob, a necessary step to put a stop to lawless plunder and violence. I entered as the King had come out of his closet, the Officer who commanded the troops being immediately before me. As soon as the King saw him, he said You peppered them Well, I hope—peppered them' well—peppered them well!' in his loud way. Every body stared, the 'levity of the remark struck the •officer. . Firing even upon lawless mobs was then considered to be justified only by self-evident neces sity. I hope your Majesty's troops will always do their duty,' was the answer drily returned, with a significant gravity which feelings less obtuse than the King's :must have felt to be .a tacit reproof, as many were killed." The Monarch-who thus exulted in the carnage of his own subjects, is the same who for so many years was called the "good old King," and whom hundreds of old, .Tory twaddlers and veteran placemen still maintain to have been a pattern for all sovereigns! But History, .which sifts the true from the false, and whose first sacred duty is an impartial -and discriminating estimate of character, has of late shown the world the utter heartlessness, selfishness, brute obstinacy, and incurable bigotry of this long overrated Monarch., He is now seen exactly in his true colours, stripped of the falSe halo that for years surrounded him ; and a more remarkable portrait was never yet exhibited for ,public reprobation. Nor was his son—the vaunted and showy George the Fourth —much better... He, too, was - incurably selfish, and never on any one occasion allowed the interests of his subjects to interfere with.his own personal gratifica tion. "Lights and Shades" contains some cleverish sketches of indigenous Irish character. " Arabella" isa delightful portrait of a gentle, kindly, affectionate woman, - who, like Fieldin g ' s " A me li a ," sacr ifi ces health, hope, and - happiness -unhesitatingly to the- man she loves, but who is every way unworthy of such a disinterested, high-minded creature. • "Finishing with a Dinner" is a narrative of the ludicrous mishaps that befel a country Surgeon -Mr. Raymond Fowler, in the course of a p ro fe ss i ona l visit which he paid to the 'metropolis. -- In the first place he got drunk, which is bad—seCondly, he got robbed, which is worse -and thirdly, he g o t his-head broken, and was com pelled to take to an ugly scratch wig, which is worst 'of all. And all these afflictions originated in his visit ing Vauxhall one disastrona evening, and becoming too passionately enamoured of its Once-celebrated Arrack-punch! " How to ma,iie a Long Day" is one of those sprightly, off-hand, hvelligent essays, ''wended on a.close observation of real life, which have so often enriched the pages of this Magazine. The "Winds." is ,a graeeful e.lYkieTroni the pen of Mr. Josiah Minty. We quote it accordingly for our readers' gratification :-- " What voice is in the4inas There is a feeling in their lightest tone, The soft gales sigh the storm-blast's hollow moan, Each to the soul in language of its own •Speaks and an echo'-finds. " How light upon the ear Bra.thes the soft murniur.of tbe evening gale, Wringing from' memory full many a tale Ofhonie, and youth; and - love;ahl visions frail, As they were , passing dear. ;"fThe whirlwind in its might, That vanquisher of earth, the hoarse, the loud Scourger of ocean, ruler of. the cloud, What is the whirlwind?—what hut passion's crowd Of feelings as they smite,. " How o'er the ravaged earth Are strewn the fragments of her summer prime, Lille blighted joys that lie in after time Upon die aching heart, whose only crime Was to give passion birth. " The night wind sweeps along, With fitful cadence sighing on its way, As if the spirits of.the.bright, the gay, The loved, the lost, were in its mournful play, A melanCholy throng, • " How soft its gentle kiss— Andcan it be that spirits from above, Thus on the pinions of the night-wind rove, Fanning the leveed cheeks of those they love, And whispering of bliss ? " But now the morning breeze Steals o'er the earth with fragrance on its wings, Filling the soul with bright imaginings ; The flow'ret opes its bud, the wild bird sings— ' There's music in the trees. " What says the breeze of morn ? That gentle hope within the human breast, May thus breathe sweetly, calming it to rest, Thus sing of happiness and regions blest, To comfort the forlorn. " Then have not winds a voice ? Is there not language in each magic sound ? Are they not eloquent as on they bound O'er earth and sea ? When are they silenit found ? When cease they to rejoice ? " Among the snows untrod, Along the vale and o'er the grassy hill, Through trees, 'mid flow'rets boisterous or still, By night, by day, the universe they fill : Their's is the voice of. God.' AINSWORTH'S MAGAZINE. In the present chapters of-the editor's romance of " St. James's," we find the plot progressing at a very rapid rate. Abigail Hill is married to Mashan, the Queen's equerry, and the„next . incident of moment, we suppose, will be the overthrow of the influence of the imperious Duchess of Marlborough, and heldis anguished partner, the great Whig Duke. There are, one or two humorous scenes introduced in the course of the chapters before us, but they are not very successful; Mr. Ainsworth should avoid humour, for he has nut a particle of it in his composition. His ftirte is ckscription, and ingenious, skilfully-executed melodramatic incident. The "New Generation" is a panegyrical review of 'Mr. D'lSraeli's new tale of " Conbigsby"—incomparably the ablest production of the season. " Night Noises and Phantoms" is the production of Mr. Charles Oilier, and the object of the essay ; -*- - -a,highly laudable one---is to endeavour to account for many of those mysterious nocturnal sounds which` so often terrify unreflecting people, and rouse all the dormant superstitious feeling within them. "A Jar of Honey from MoUnt Hybla" con sists of a series of critical obiervations on Greek pas toral poetf7, to which no • esSayist of the day is better qualifled .to do justice than Mr. Leigh Hunt. He quotes, we perceive, with deserved approbation, a beautiful passage from Moschus's elegy on the death of Bion, with which we have long been familiar; and Which .he translates with elegance and scrupulous accuracy. "John Manesty; the Liverpool Merchant," is unusually interesting this month, and evinces none of that' langour and heaviness which characterised some of the earlier chapters. Our readers will, - no donbt think us for the 'following extract respecting Kean, which we give from the " Elliston Papers" "On a certain evening, shortly after his memorable de4i4t at Drury-lane, Kean, accompanied by his old and faithful ally, Jack Hughes, dropped in, or rather dropped up (by way - of catachresis) .at Offley's premier etage, thecider-room, in Henrietta-street, Covent garden. Ensconced in a snug corner of the apartment, the two friends were enjoying their ' nip, and as the conversa tion of the room was a right of common, they felt them selves no trespassers in nipping the pasturage also. As it generally happens, in places of this kind, there is one certain personage who usurps the lead on all tonics — one who would teach Hannibal the art of war ; so was the case at thisperiod, at Ofi3ey's. This individual was a Mr. Watson, or Wason, a red-headed wholesale tobac conist, and a charlatan warranted town made.' But Watson was a man who might have called Junius Brutus himself a pretender, for Watson was really a fool. At the court of Offley, however, he had obtained the Cordon Lien, and had a considerable tail, though there was not a wag in it. watsop, who knew the riofi lt l tb,ctow.4l.f4iel better than 1116 Moriziny - Poi , t,slad - yepi a rea y enlighteted his auditory on the intrigues of Lady Douglas, in the rHE SUN, LONDON, MONDAY MORNING, JUNE 3, 1844. case of the Princess, when he led the conversation, not unnaturally, to the subject of the new actor at Drury lane. ' It is true enough," said he, stirring up the flaming forest which grew upon his pole. ' Dr. Drury brought him to town. He talked with me on the subject—in fact, we went together into Dorsetshire to see him act. I shall never forget Kean's gratitude when we proposed his appearance at Drury-lane.' " Here Kean thrust himself forward like a ferret, gazing at the speaker in perfect wonderment ; and the bloid-red knight ' proceeded— "' I saw him ti day in Cecil-street—he is in the very ecstacy of triumph—and well he may. A nice child his son ; but I am afraid my friend has something yet to learn.' How?. once, '—what is that?' demanled the whole tail at " Why, he thrashes his wire; replied the oracle, with the aspect of a red Indian; and he who raises his hand on a woman, except in an act of kin3ness, it were base flattery to call a coward.' " Amurmur of applause followed thi3 dramatic scrap, when Kean, having quickly passed from a ferret into a tiger, was only withheld by the gripe of Hughes from springing . on the carotty tobacconist. The dealer in Virginia still went on:—' This was his,' said he, care lessly, as he pulled from his pocket a little chased snuff box,—' this was Kean's—a slight token of his obligation to mP, as he was pleased to say. I carry it for his s►ke.' " Do you, by the gods!' exclaimed Kean, and (hitting from his corner, .he grasped the sight token from the table, and hurled it through the window glass into the street. " Consternation seized the tobacconist, as though Cuba itself had been suddenly swallowed by the sea; but up rose his tail, like a water-spout, threatening annihilation to the undaunted little actor, who stood with his arms folded, like a stone terminus on a parapet. lam Edmund Kean!' exclaimed he, . grinding his teeth. slanderer! for the first time behold him! lam the Kean!' " The whole West Indies seemed now in a state of in surrection. The company rushed in a body towards the sturdy tragedian, and verily believing him to be anim postor, notwithstanding the humiliation of the wholesale dealer, assailed him with violence, and finally expelled him the house. Little Hughes came in for his share of the bounty, and with a shoe less than he entered the apartment, accompanied his friend, to finish the evening, and consult future proceedings, at No. 21, Cecil street." HOOD'S MAGAZINE, We are sorry to learn from a notice affixed to this number, that the editor, Mr. Hood, has lately had a severe attack of hemorrhage from the lungs, " brought on by the wearing excitement of ceaseless and exces sive literary toil." The writer of the notice, how ever, adds that "he is now gradually recovering strength, and there is every reason to expect that he will be able, in the next number, to give the promised new chapter and illustrations of his novel, which are at present of necessity . deferred." The author of the admirable " Song of a Shirt"—a poem that has touched the hearts of thousands—is a man whom the literary world can ill afford to lose, and we do most sincerely hope that he will be shortly restored to health, and delight and instruct his readers for many a year to come, with his sprightly fancies and subtle sketches of character, few of whi c h b u t ex hibi t t h e germs of shrewd, and sometimes even deep thought. The "Laboratory" is a quaint poem by Robert Browning. There are some impressive ideas scat tered carelessly through it, but the subject-matter is not rendered sufficiently obvious to the generality of readers—a fault of frequent occurrence in this gen tletnan's writings, who conceives with far more force, skill, and distinctness, than he executes. "An Inci dent at Pisa" we should have guessed to have been the composition of_Mr. Monckton Milnes, even with out his signature; for it betrays all that peculiar man nerism which he owes to a careful study of the works of Wordsworth. The "Nice Young Man" is a slight, sketchy story, whose redeeming features are its liveliness and good nature. " Recollections of Gideon Shaddoe" is a passable collection of ghost stories, which should, however, have been kept for the long winter evenings, when the cold, and gloom, and blighting fogs of the season tend greatly to assist the effect of such wild, mysterious narratives. We quote one of the best of them : " A venerable manor-house in the west of England, with its terraced walks, noble hollies. and quaint yew hedges, had sunk into the usual condition of such ancient places, and had become a farm-house of the better class. The former possessors had been of elevated rank, and the last of their descendants, a widow lady of title, had retired there, still retaining the remains of loveliness, with a-handsome nephew in the prime of manly beauty, about the middle of last century. They lived in strict privacy, were never seen out of tire grounds, and never received any visitors, with one exception. At the ex piration of every three months an old• fashioned coach rolled up the avenue shaded by the sun-proof elms, stopped at the entrance, and out stepped a man of advanced age, dressed in a dark brown ;suit, with a plain cocked hat and grey stockings. In about ten minutes he again made .his appearance, entered the carriage, which rolled down the avenue, and was seen no more till the next quarter of a year had passed away. This had gone on for some time, add afforded subject for comment to all the country round.. The neighbours shook their heads, and whis pered light tales of the dame ; but all attempts to pene trate the cloud that shrouded their history failed.. " One fine August evening, six weeks at least before its appearance was due, according to its usual periods of arrival, the light of the harvest moon shone on the well known-coach till it was lost to view under the melancholy boughs .of the avenue trees. Some reapers, on their way home, saw it return, and, as it passed out of the avenue gates, beheld, sitting by the side of the old gentleman, the handsome nephew, pale and motionless as a corpse. The same night a carriage and four drove furiously up to the house, and, at the end of the week, a hearse and six received at midnight a coffin covered with black velvet, and went—none of the neighbours knew where. The place was shut up for years, and had only been lately fitted up for the reception of a new tenant—a sub stantial man who had bought the land about the house and farmed it himself—at the commencement of the pre sentcentury. "In its desolate state, it was haunted of course ; and the wicked lady,' as she was called, had often been seen gliding in the moonlight about the terraces by those who had been hardy enough to take a short cut across the grounds in their way home from the village club. " The two sons of the new tenant were young men just at the end of their teens. They had heard all the ghost stories connected with the place, and laughed at them. They had also heard strange noises, especially from one particular chamber, in which the lady had died, and the door of which had not been unlocked for years, and had satisfied themselves that they had traced some of the sounds to a colony of jackdaws that had es tablished themselves in the unused chimneys with which the spacious old house—a world too wide for the present occupants—abounded. " These two brothers lay upon a grassy headland enjoying the noon of a lovely day outside one of the garden walls. They were shaded from the sun by the overhanging laburnums and guelder-roses, which, tired of their confinement within, had, truant-like, broken bounds to mingle their blossoms with the wild flowers on the field-side of the half-ruined wall. The young men listened to the humming in the air, and lazily watched the tremulous haze that rose from the ridges of the fallow which lay parallel to them. " Lying thus, with half-shut eyes, they saw upon the ridges before them the figure of a lady dressed in the costume of the middle of the eighteenth century. They both started up together, and advanced rapidly to the form, which receded without appearing to move a limb across the furrows, with its face still towards them as they had first seen it, till it reached the closed gate, through the bars of which it seemed to pass as the brothers arrived at the barrier—and then was lost to their view. Beyond was a bare common, where no per son could, have been hid; and the, only beings in sight besides themselves were a party of gnats dancing in the sun, and the swallows that ever and anon cut a lane through them, leaving the survivors to continue their dance." the communication between the wdrici ive live in and these unknown regions. Moreoventmils diave heard, on good authority, that a certain adventurous steam-boat, containing a pleasure party from Dundee, did actually bring-to at the pier of St. Andrews, much to the sur prise of the denizens, who, theretofore, had no more practical knowledge of " smoke ships with chariot wheels," than the Chinese ; but whether this attempt has been repeated, our authority saith not. At all events, however, it is clear, that the adventurous spirit of modern discovery, bids fair to re-open the communi • Cation between St. Andrews and the civilised world. Our pilgrimages to St. Andrews have been winter excursions. The natural scenery around if is naught ; and it is at that season that it receives its most charac teristic elms of inhabitants—the remnant of those who linger aliout its fvepyrable university. In the summer season we are told;thatt sundry red-faced, quick-walking Dund4eFitizens,:with first-rate 'appetites, squat their tine farnilies..akeig - the borders of the links, for the benefit of sea-bathing, and the fine bracing air. To find St. An dreWs with such occupants, is as incongruous as the ren counter of the French traveller, who, when be had pene trated to a distant, a n d, as he believed, hitherto unknown temple on the Indus, found a party of English ladies, with pink parasols, picnicking at the gateway. In winter, these migratory birds are gone, and the city is left in the peaceful possession of its native rookery. Looking through the vista of a long and wide street, you will see, perhaps, no other human being than a professor, in his Geneva gown, stalking along with measured step, and with , a countenance on which - you find deeply impressed the fact how very difficult it would be to beat into the head behind it any notion which is not fully a hundred years old. Perhaps the scene is a little more lively—five or six red specks- ar e seen advancing in the distance, and as their bulk enlarges in the retina of the eye, you per ceive that they are so ninny students in their - scarlet cloaks, each with his Collectanea or his Euclid under his arm, and looking,' as Fox said of Thurlow, ' wiser than any mortal man actually is.' A staid sedateness, a 4 of Sleepy-hollow, marks their walks, and shows the influence of the place—the power of the genius loci in subduing to its solemn tone the natural buoyancy of youth. What a new world there is to open on their spirits when they are removed from among the lumber of old tottering opinions, and set down in the busy whirl of modern useful active existence r. FI?ASER'S MAGAZINE. Like every one else who has ever bestowed a thought on the subject, Fraser—Tory as he is—ex presses, in no measured terms, his astonishment at the grossly inconsistent conduct recently pursued by the House of Commons on the Factory question. " Something is required," he says, " to preserve for the House any share, however small, of public respect and public confidence. A few more such exhibitions of pliability to the Minister's will, as have lately come before us, cannot fail of bringing the repre sentative system into contempt. Unless it be Sir Robert Peel's intention, not merely to lord it over the House of Commons, but to show to the whole world that he does so, it will be advisable not to repeat the Comedy of Errors, on which the whole world has recently gazed with wonder." It will be advisable certainly that such a comedy should not be repeated in St. Stephen's, but it will be so, just as often as the Premier may choose to issue his despotic mandate to that effect. Should he, for instance, insist on the Conservative party stultifying itself on the subject of the Corn-laws, no doubt that obsequious squad will obey him, without so much as a whisper of remon strance, and support the very measures to which it has so long been inveterately opposed. There is nothing too difficult of digestion for a Conservative. He can swallow any nostrum, no matter how unpa latable, provided it be presented to hi m by th e h an d s of the Prime Minister. "An Episode in the Times of Phillip the Fifth of Spain," is a story told with spirit, especially as respects the denouement, which is very skilfully wrought out. "Animal Magnetism" de- votes far too much space and attention to one of the most notorious quackeries of the day. " The Picture- Galleries" is a series of con amore criticisms by Tit marsh on the principal paintings in the Exhibition, and the Suffolk-street Gallery. The critic scarcely does justice to Mr. Haydon's picture of Napoleon musing at St. Helena, which is a very striking pro duction, and remarkable for its extreme simplicity. In the course of some comments on the " Oxford Professors of Poetry," the author mentions some severe strictures of Southey on Dryden, to the effect that he was among the second-rate poets, and that in stead of ",ending ages to come, he was the pimp an d paitig a r r of his own. Dryden was certainly far from imaaiatulate in his public conduct, but his faults were chiefly those of the age in which he lived, which more or less has a direct influence on us all. It should be botne . in mind, too, that if he was a servile flat terer in his dedications, it was poverty only that made him so—that gaunt, malignant fiend which tames the boldest spirits, and bows to earth the most soaring natures. As a poet, so far is Dryden from being, as Southey would intimate—among the second rates, that he is foremost among the great geniuses of his country, nor can our language show two produc tions more perfect of their kind than his " Absalom and Achitophil," and his " Theodore and Honoria." We subjoin the opening passage of an article on the " Red Indians "—who are still, we believe, resident in the metropolis—chiefly for the sake of the diverting anecdote with which it is introduced : " There is a story told of the late Dick Martin, which occurred forcibly to my mind when I paid my first visit to the Ojibbeways. Dick, being at Greenwich fair, was led by a very superfluous curiosity- upon the part of the king in Connemara, to enter a booth, whose proprietor professed to exhibit a wild man !' There, assuredly, he saw a very wild-looking individual, with his head and face covered with a profusion of red, shaggy hair, a regular glib, nearly naked, and with a chain about his waist. But Mr. Martin, upon observing that the savage seemed to display towards him some uncouth and uneasy signs of recognition, was induced to examine him more closely, and the .result was that he recognised in the wild_ man' one of his Own tenants, and shouted out, with all the indignation becoming a legislator in favour of animals, W hy, then, Flaherty, you blackguard of the world, what is it you're about there, at all—at all ; making a beast of yourself entirely—entirely ?" Earn ing the rent for your honour 1' was Mr. Flaherty's pro pitiatory and, to an Irish landlord, unanswerable reply. Now, really, when I first gazed on these Indians, an im pression, almost amounting to conviction, took posses sion of my mind, to the effect that the chiefs, braves, squaws, and child before me, were neither more nor less than a party of the finest peasantry on the face of the earth' (as Mr. O'Connell calls them), who were em ployed in earning the rent for some flinty-heared Sasbe nach landlord. As to the features of the strangers, their resemblance to those of the Celtic Irish was most exact, most perfect. Take half-a-dozen of the denizens of St. Giles's, and a couple of Hibernian basket-Women from Covent-garden market, paint them, and decorate them with skins, and scalps, and claws, and feathers, and, for all matters of appearance, to a casual observer, they would be as good Indians as if they had been im ported hither from the eastern shores of Lake Huron. And as to the dancing, singing, shouting, drum-beating, tomahawk-twirling, and club-brandishing, they could be taught it all in a week. On examining the Ojibbe ways more narrowly, however, I discovered certain marks which distinguished them from the Celtic Irish, and satisfied me they were not impostors, but real Red Indians. First, they had those small furl delicately moulded hands and feet which the Gel* N.Wlitude, in Ireland, at least, can never generate ; anklecondly, the_ muscles of the arm were so slightly developed as to show that they never had been, at any period of their lives, engaged in the practice of manual labour. This clearly proved that they were not the indigenous offspring of the island of saints, though, if some antiquaries be correct, they may boast a common origin, namely, from the Jewish nation, and this would account for the precise similarity in the cast and style of the features, and con tour of countenance. Having now dismissed all scruples about the authenticity of the performers, I set shout con siderine- them curiously. Thu men were sufficiently clean built, but not tall or muscular, nor, apparently, either, very strong or very active. Strip them of their weapons, and Deaf Burke would ' .double-up' the six of them in Anglo-Irish ithhiT ibiPl7;:thr t .troy minutes: Give them their war-cluhs only, an d one would make sh or t wor k o f ;n by stick." 8? ILLIIMINATED MAGAZINE. Mr. Jerrold's " Chronicles of Clovernook." which, though somewhat too vague and desultory in their character, abound in point and brilliancy, and exhibit here and there thoughts pregnant with meaning, will be more attractive to the generality of readers this month than they have yet been, for they detail the history of a young man of genius, who is visited one evening in his lonely garret by no less distinguished a . personage than the Devil, dressed, of course, in a full suit of mourning, which gives the author an opportunity of venting divers apt sarcasms against the hypocritical cant of those who, when they fall into sin, attribute their backslidings to the instigations o f the Devil, in stead of to the promptings of their own evil nature. The object of Satan's visit to the youth of ge nius, is to request him to write his memoirs in a kindly and forbearing spirit, which, however, the young man declines doing, partly from conscientious motives, and partly because the Evil One has been fool enough to pay him for the task beforehand. The conversation that takes place between this amiable couple is of the most pungent and diverting charac ter possible, especially in those places where it glances at the Conventional notions and practices of; what is called, respectable society. " A Defence for Poets" is contained in five small poems, gracefully versified, and in 'which occurs this just and impressive thought : " The heart's religion is its poesy." In the arti c l e en titled " Bowie-knives," the author describ es th e particu lars of a most murderous single combat th a t t oo k p l ace a year or two since in America between a Georgian doctor and a Missouri farmer, in consequence of a political dispute, which ended in the death of the latter, under circumstances of inconceivable atrocity. "A Parting Glimpse of St. Giles's" is a graphic sketch of the in terior of this distinguished locality, whi c h, it seems, will soon he numbered among th e thi ngs th a t once were—Tr/0 fuit! The illustrati on p re fi xe d to this article is full of spirit, but ind ee d a ll t h e p l ates in the number are of a superior character. We quote "Chronicles of Clovernook" from the the yqung geritilsVabcOnnt of the earlier portion of his career:— " My parents let me follow my own will, which, at a very early age, developed itself towards doing nothing. And, indeed, throughout my life, that, my first bent, has ever directed me. My brothers, who were so very stupid, and therefore fit for nothing, were early placed in the , world, and indicated the truth of the parental opinion, by making their fortunes. They were dull blockheads, according to my father, and so became men of wealth and influence by the very force of their insensibility. NOW T, who was brimfull of genius, was to do every thing by some extraordinary hocus pocus dreamt of by my parents; but of which I, indeed, had not the remotest knowledge. • Leave Jack alone,' would still be my fafher's cry, he'll make his way in the world—how can it be otherwise ?he has such wit Well, after spend ing my little patrimony—and in its happy mode of but . layl may be permitted to observe I showed a genius for teYthousdnd a ear—and after losing some twelvemonth or' i tsv . 6"rif bo-peep with bailiffs, you will judge of my • dstit . inti when I t e ll y ou th at I f oun d myse lf re d uce d to pen an'd ink. Oh, my friends! there is a condition fur the . human animal. C ons id er th e outcast . Th e maker 4 - matches has a business ; nay, he is the pos sessor of alnystery. When he has made his matches. there they are—tangible wood and brimstone ; their merits open: to the eye of cook and housemaid. Con seiont' of the excellence of his ware, the matchmaker may higgle gallantly f or hi s p r i ce ; matc h es are t hi ngs Wernfed rn the commerce of life ; it is no difficult task to rdeoniroend:their utility to the world, alive as it is to the wotth of firelight. But books! their wordi is a matter of faucy, say of weakness, to the weaker part of man kind ; they have no standard value, none, at their births Hence, the unknown maker of a book—l speak ally of the time when I first siune.l in ink—is a sort of gipsy in the'social scale ; a picturesque vagabond, who ssiifilehiliS'or' the other contrives to live on the sunny side of the statutes, but is nevertheless vehemently sus pe'cted df all sorts of larceny by . respec:ahle householders. ShMl"I ever, forget the uneasiness, the look of distrust frotn'iny,ratidlady, when first the alarming truth fell . upon her, that her three-pair room sheltered an author —or rather, an author in the shell, for as then I had hatched nothing, but was only sitting upon fool s c a p ? Gbod soul! . in 'a flutter of concern, she told me that that very room had been tenanted, for three long years, by an honest joritirOyman tailor, whose rent was regular as the Saturday's" sh6'looked at me from head to heel, and said she' idped that all was right; though I could perceive that'ilie:Spoke in ;he very forlornness of the feeling. And, after alkthe woman had truth upcin her side. Her tenant tailor had an allowed business; was a recognised necessity by fallen man; was moreover one of a worship ful guild; an artificer whose cunning administered to hunsuril pride; 'whose handiwork was all-in -all to worldly triumphs.' . For Instance, what would be a coronation withotit a taller? What would be man, left to nothing more than sheepskins'and parrots' plumes? Hence, the woman, rin her - strong sense of she decencies of life, ac lcilowreliedthe vital use of the labourer of the needle; hence, 'when she learned that I only dealt in pen and ink, she lOoked upon me as a sort of vagabond conjuror; a white 'wizard, whose very money—if ever she saw it— :night be of. doubtful origin. Shillings got out of an inkstand, she could hardly look upon as good mint, coin: and for this reason she could not comprehend how any man, by' mere pen, ink, and paper, could give value re ceived for the ready cash. Now the tailor's work was plain: a :pair of breeches was a tangible thing; and • spoke as it were common sense to the common sense of man and womankind. But authorship! Alas! how small to the breeches was tis tale in verse!" THE ,SCOTT MONUMENT. TO TH$ .EDITOR OF THE. SUN " Exegit monumentum tere perennius." SIR S I regret to, learn from the Committee that there is still a deficit, in the.sum required to finish Sir Walter Scott's monument, of something less than 1,000/. This ought not to be. The structure has been for a considerable time in progress, but its completion i s d e l aye d f or want of sufficient funds. It is a sad reflection that, after a lapse of nearly twelve years from the decease of this illustrious man, the structure is still unfinished. Without wishing to cast any reflections on the nobility and gentry of the " Modern Athens," I really think they have been somewhat dilatory, and have meted him out but tardy justice in offering up their tribute of admiration at the shrine of his genius. They ought most decidedly to have led the van. Let it be remem bered that it was his birth-place, where the first dawning of his genius displayed itself as a tale-teller, when the ap plause of his companions was his recompense for disgrace and punishment. It was his chief residence during his life for a certain part of the year, where he underwent the toil and drudgery of the law, and where he frequently " Penn'd a stanza, when he should engross." It was the place where many of his poetical pieces were written, and not a few of that splendid file of historical fic tions that have conferred on all the monuments of his coun try a more than classic immortality. He has celebrated their city in more than one of his poems and romances, and has made it the chief scene of one of the finest of his fictions in the " Tales of my Landlord—The Heart of Mid-Lothian." He also designates it the " Queen of the North ;" and in that beautiffil apostrophe, in canto iv., stanza 30, of " Marmion," he exclaims with enthusiasm— " Mine own romantic town !" From these associations alone, the " Modern Athenians " owe him a deep debt of gra: itude, which, as I before observed, they have been rather tardy in acknowledging, and I should have thought that a much larger sum might have been sub scribed con amore in a much shorter space of time. The capital of the West exhibited a promptitude worthy of a great commercial city, a statue having been erected to his memory many years ago in Glasgow, which he has for ever celebrated in his " Rob Roy." It is not my intention to enter into,-Pi dissertation on the merits of th e au th or o f " Waverley," either as a poet or a novelist; but as one who is sensible of the great benefits which his works have conferred on Scotland at large, I cannot refrain from offering my humble tribute of admiration to the Northern Magician. I earnestly hope that the admirers of Scott, now in Edina, who have not vet contributed, will exonerate themselves from the stigma of tardiness by immediately subscribing towards the completion of this National Monument to his memory. Your most obedient servant, C. P. J. 5, Westmoreland-street, Portland-place, May 29. AIT S MAGAZINE. In his digest of the politics of the month, Tait re marks, in/reference to the late astounding Ministerial majority on the Ten Hours' Bill —" the question remains for the present more unsettled than ever ; having no other immediate result than a strengthened conviction in the public mind of the hollowness and insincerity of public men. The sudden and suspi cious conversions and the shameless reconversions that have taken place on the Factory Question, will not be easily forgotten. The whole business is as discreditable to the character, and as damaging to the authority, of Parliament, as anything we have seen of late years." This opinion, we believe, is held pretty generally by the thinking, dispassionate por tion of the community; and the startling circum stances attending the majority in question—the mo tions which induced it, and the free and easy manner in which it was brought about, will certainly not be forgotten at the next election. " Bon Gaultier and his Friend" is a familiar conversational article, modelled on the " Noctes" of Blackwood, but possessing a very fair moderate share of the vigour, eloquence, and humour that charactised those admirable dialogues. There is, however, some quaint, sprightly poetry scattered through the paper ; and the remarks of " Young Scotland," one of the speakers, are occasionally pointed and happy in their sarcasm. Mrs. Gore's " Wheel of Fortune " is abruptly brought to a close this month. The tale is by no means one of her most felicitous efforts ; but even Homer sometimes nods, why not. then the authoress of some twenty or thirty of the cleverest novels of the, day ? " Life of Beau Brum mell " is an intelligent notice of Captain Jesse's re cently published memoirs of this autocrat of fashion, whose will, for nearly twenty years, was the law of the West-end, and to whose undisputed supremacy even that " finest gentleman in Europe," the Prince Regent, succumbed. From an article entitled " St. Andrew's," we quote an amusing sketch of that out of-the-way and unsophisticated city : " When we last visited St. Andrews, some twelve years ago, it was a peculiarity of that distinguished city, that it had no stage-coach communication with the rest of the world. We have heard a rumour that this is now amended ; nay, were somewhat startled the other day, by beholding the venerable name of the Arehiepiseopate. printed in Haring red letters, associated with some vul gar announcement about four inside, and fares-Moderate.' This occurred last summer. We know not whether the enterprising company' have had courage to keep up THE ITALIAN OPERA. Il Barbiere de Sivigla was repeated on Saturday night to a house equally crowded as on the Thursday, but still more fashionably filled than on that occasion. The other entertainments were La Vivandiere and the ballet of Alma; the former interposed between the acts of the opera. The audience sat out both, and remained until the termihation _of the performances. Among the distinguished personages present were— The Queen Dowager, attended by Earl Howe ; the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, attended by Baron Knese beck and •Col. Stevenson ; the Duchess of Gloucester; the Dukes of Leeds and. Motitrose ; the Duchesses of Leeds and Montrose ; tli6rlediquises of Ailesbury and Huntly ;'the Marchionessenif Ailesbury, Conyngbam, and Wellesley ; Earls Shelburne and Pembroke ; Coun tesses of Westmeath, Sefton, and Glengall ; Viscounts Castlereagh and Ranelagh ; ColnitoXsterhazy ; Lords Trimlestone, Kenmare, Emlyn, Air it; and Sandys ; Ladies Trimlestone, Kenmare, Joddrell, Wombwell, E. Thynne, Eleanor Balfour, Shuelttotrkh, and Seymour ; Sirs P. Joddrell, Loftus, OtwayM:Kent, Robert Wilmot Horton, A. Clifton, Ir. Webb, H. 'Meux, and H. Wil loughby ; llonourables Mr.' I t orkei Mrs. Yorke, Mrs Dawson Darner, Mr. Baring, me Standish, Mr. Vord, &c* DRURY-LANE THEATRE. The season closed on Friday, when Mr. Bunn delivered the following address : " Ladies and Gentlemen—There are two reasons for in truding myself on this occasion—one is, that having on a recent instance done me the honour to summon me before you in a peculiarly gratifying manner, I am, like the rest of the world, too rorid of agood thing to part with it very readily ; the other is, that I think it much better to render an ac count of myself than to entrust it to any other, however elo quent the substitute may be. This evening terminates an arduous and a long season ; and having in my hand a pro gramme of the promises held out to you at its commence ment, I am in a position to state that those promises have been fulfilled, at least twice over, and I have but one promise more to make, which is, that my speech shall not be as long as my season. I stated my intention of producing two new operas, and two new ballets, with the aid of the best talent I could procure ; whereas we have produced four grand operas, and five ballets, besides the Christmas pantomime, and nu merous revivals. We have introduced to your protection some of the most distinguished artistes to be found—many principe.Loweef our own fair island,' and many from other lands, as that your generosity w ou ld a t all times be ex tended to talent wherever it might be obtained. " That geiprosity has enabled me, after many years of management, ,to solve a question mooted long ago, whether the national . theatres could ever be made a source of profit. I directed them both a few years since— something on the principle of a man riding two horses at one time. Between ourselves they threw me; but I got up again on one of them, and, with boundless thanks for your goodness, I have won the race. "It does not become tue to enter upon an argument, taken up by others, respecting the peculiar character of the entertainments which, have formed one principal source of attraction. To - those who may object them, I can only reply that the voice of public opinion has been my sole guide, and that voice has spoken loudly in my favour; and that, more over, there is 'the other theatre in want of a tenant, and nu merousPerfbrmers anxious to be engaged in it. For myself, I have but to say that my humble exertions to merit your approbation , have been seconded by those of the Committee who preside over the destinies of this theatre, in a manner at once honourable, generous, and full of feeling—by the performers, who, without any reluctance, have laboured cheerfully and loyally—and by the best directed energies of all concerned, and thut through their agency we conclude to-night a season unparalleled in success f or a t l eas t t wen t y years. " What more can I, what more need I say ? Why nothing, but in the name of those respective parties, most sincerely to thank you, and for myself, to assure you that my gratitude will only end with m' life." LYCEUM THEATRE.—The following distinguished persons have visited this theatre during the week :—Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cambridge, the Duke of Brunswick, Earl and Countess Bruce, Marquis of Bland ford, Countess Dunmore, Lord Fitzgerald, Lord Dillon, Lady Duff, Lord Mountcharles, Lord Eliot, Lady Somer set, Baroness Ahlefeldt, Sir James Graham and family, Sir Loftus'and Tsdy Otway, Sir Sydney Herbert, Vis count Emelyn, Lady Curtis and family, Mr. Henry and Lady Meux, Lord Bateman, Lord Folkestone, Lord Gardner,• Lord A. Lennox, Sir C. East, Mr. and Mrs. Trelavrney, Hon.. Mrs. Vesey, Hon. W. Ashley, the Swedish• Minister, Colonel Daniel, Baron Hugel, Ricardo, - Eq., Baron Koller, Sir Robert Cunliffe, Hon. F. OaVendish, Colonel Dixon, Captain Clarke, Mr. Glegg, Mr. and Mrs. I3iddulph, Mr. and Mrs. S. Cox, Littledale, Esq., Sir William Medlycott and family, Colonel Conyers; &e. HER MAJESTY'S MARINE RESIDENCE IN THE ISLE of Wmirri—Netviithstanding the various statements that have been pia forthyduring the past month, relating to the alleged purchase of Norris Castle, as a marine residence for the Queen, in the Isle of Wight, we are informed that, what ever negotiations might have ever been pending on the part of the agent 4 the Woods and Forests awl Mr. Bell, the pro prietor of the estate, nothing has been finally determined upon, and it is now expected that o,borne House will be the abode of her Ma3esty in the island during the ensuing autumn. The sum required byttle fthrprietor of Norris Castle for the pur chase of the property has been stated at 70,006/., ad amount considered beyond its value by the party who was appointed to negotiate with Mr. Bell. The castle oiignally cost nearly 200,0001. „ - ~ . --- 'T r THE LATE M. LAFFITTE. The following biographical sketch of this excellent man is drawn by one who knew him well, M. Odilon Barrot " The good actions of M. Laffitte, as a citizen and man, are universally known in France. No person ever showed more devotedness, or did more than he did for ' his country and for humanity. No man ever displayed more firmness or more charity, or was m • bre prompt at H useful and benevolent sacrifices. In 1815, when the capital was invaded by foreign armies, Blucher, with his Prussians, occupied the Hotel de Vile, and, threatened to destroy the public buildings, I if he did not on the instant receive a war contribution of 1300,000 f. The Municipal Council assembled, but there Iwas no money in the public tre asur y. A su b scr ipti o n w as . opened by the authorities, who were present, but the amount subscribed was much below that demanded by Blucher. The embarrassment was great and urgent. M. Laffitte having arrived at the Hotel de Vile, tore up the subscription list, and wrote a cheque for the ' 300,000 E, which he paid from his own funds. In the following year there was a cruel scarcity of provisions in France, and it was nece.;sary to find relief for the poor of Paris. Louis XVIIL, who had a civil list of 28,000,0001. a year, subscribed for 20,000 f. ; M. .Laffitte gave 100,000 E At the same period, in a critical circumstance, considering only his country, which he loved, and not the Government, against which he was contending, as one of the chiefs of the Opposition, he came to the aid of the Minister of Finances, I and sustained alone the public credit, alth oug h h e ex posed himself to considerable loss. For twenty years there was not a useful enterprise which M. affitte did - not support with his purse, or a politi ca l under taking which he did wst sr.•.conA by his credit and his means ; and yet his private charities were daily and extensive. There was not an officer of., the old army deprived of his pay, a trader embarrassed by the difficulties of the times, a literary man waiting for the fruits of his labours, nor even a political adversary, who, if he addressed himself to M. Laffitte, or bad his wants revealed by others, fitiled to receive the needed support. Amongst the numerous persons whom he served, the most celebrated names were -mingled with the most obschre, who had no other recom mendation than their wants. Independently of the large sums which M. Laffitte lent without interest in aid of enterprises of industry, he also gave during the period of the Restoration more than three millions. We state this on the authority of the person who had no other function in his bureaux than that of assisting him in the immense work of benevolence which he had imposed upon himself. It was by constantly renewed benefits, by continual succour given with rare generosity and ex quisite delicacy, and by still more important sacrifices in tine cause of liberty, that M. Laffitte expended a portion of the fortune which he had so laboriously obtained. Laffitte possessed in the highest degree all the virtues of the private man. He was eminently just and upright —a slave to his word—a sincere and devoted friend. He took enjoyment in the soft affections and the tranquil happiness of the family circle. There was in him a won derful mixture of simplicity and kindness of heart, with grandeur of sentiments and ideas. As a man he was affable, good, indulgent, and peaceable—as a citizen he naturally rose in mind to the highest exigencies of political life, proceeding with resolution in the most difficult paths, and showing himself to be severe, courage ous, and inflexible in all things which he considered to be required of him by the interests of his country and of his public duties. As soon as seen he was found to be agreeable, and, when more intimately known, was beloved. His house was kept open for fifteen years with all the eclat of luxury. He did honour to his fortune in a noble and magnificent style, but never did these enjoyments of his wealth change the inborn goodness of his nature, or disturb his equanimity by vanity. lie received with equal politeness personages of the highest station and the humblest electors who were in communion with his patriotic hopes. Sprung from the working class, he never desired to 'separate from the people. In his fundamental and never-varying principle, which was to be recognised in the employment of his riches, as in every act of his life without exception, was • to be discerned his devoted love for his country, and his sympathy with everything that was noble and grand. At the time when his fortune was colossal, M. Laffitte bad his daughter, his only- child, to marry. She was sought by the richest capitalists and by the greatest names in the circle of Court favour, but M. Laffitte gave her to the son of the most illustrious martyr of the restoration. The heroic conduct of M. Laffitte in 1830 is well known. After having struggled during fifteen years against tho excesses of the Restoration, he was the most active and energetic artisan of the Revolution of July. It was no exaggera tion when his hotel was called the head-quarters of the Revolution. There, in fact, was decided under his imme diate and all-powerful influence the destinies of the country. Thence issued the first movement towards a re-organisation of government, after the _popular victory and the constitution of the new dynasty." (From the Journal des Debats.) M. Laffitte was born at Bayonne, in 1767. In 1788, he entered the firm of M. Perragaux, banker, at Paris. In 1804, 3L Perregaux chose him as his partner, his successor, and testamentary executor. In .1809, M. Laffitte was named Regent of the Bank of France, and succeeded M. Dupont de Nemours as President of the Chamber of Commerce at Paris. In 1813, he was appointed a Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce of the Seine, and in 1814 he replaced Count Jaubert as Gover nor of the Bank of France. Called, with MM. Delessert, Hottinguer and Chaptal to the Chamber of Representa tives, as deputy of the commercial body, he never ap peared in the tribune. In 1816, M. Lafitte was electe I deputy by the department of the Seine. In 1817 he was re elected. He was again so in 1822, and up to 1830 he always formed part of the Chamber. After the Revolu tion of July he successively filled the high functions of President of the Chamber of Deputies, President of the Council, and Minister of Finance. M. Laffitte was deputy for Rotten." THE FUNERAL OF M. LAFFITTE. The funeral of M. Laffitte, which took place on Thursday, brought together, as might be expected, an immense as semblage of the population of Paris. There were previously several sinister rumours as to the intentions of the populace, and such precautions were taken as made it almost impos sible that there could be any serious outbreak. The whole of the National Guards, the immense garrison of Paris, and the municipal guards, were all under arms ; and the num ber of troops on duty could not have amounted to less than fifty thousand men, but all these precautions seemed unne cessary. Nothing appeared to be thought of, as far as ap pearances went, but the solemn ceremony which had drawn so many people together, and the gratification of curiosity. There was not the slightest disturbance or demonstration of political feeling of any kind. Among those who formed part of the procession there was an immense procession of the mechanics of Paris, a deputation from the schools of law and medicine, and a deputation of M. Laffitte's constituents at Rouen. At ten o'clock the troops which were to form the escort assembled in the Rue Laffitte and the neighbour ing boulevards, but it was past twelve o'clock before the funeral procession left for the Church of St. Roch. The procession was preceded by two squadrons of the cavalry of the Municipal Guard, and by the 6th Regiment of Dra goons. After these came the 2d and 23d Regiments of In fantry, and the 2d Legion of the National Guards. The hearse, drawn by four black horses, was guarded by two companies of the Grenadiers of the National Guard. Imme diately after the hearse, the deputation of the Chamber of Deputies, the Prince of Moskowa and the other members of the family, and almost all the Members both of the Cham bers of Peers and Deputies, all on foot ; and these again were followed by the deputation of the electors of Rouen, of the schools of medicine and law, and of the mechanics, in uniform. Then followed the friends of the deceased to the number of thousands, the procession on foot alone extending for more than a mile. The carriages followed. Three of the King's carriages and the carriages of the Duchess of Orleans and Duke of Nemours attended, besides twenty-four mourn ing carriages, and between three and four hundred private carriages. The carriages of the Royal Family were escorted by a squadron of the Municipal Guard and the 70th and 71st Regiments of the Line. The whole of this immense proces sion was closed by a battalion of infantry, two battalions of the National Guards, and a regiment of Hussars. The procession passed along the boulevards, through the Rue de la Paix, to the church of St. Roch, and then pro ceeded, after the religious ceremony, along the Rue St. Honore, and through the Rue Richelieu back to the boule vards, and thence along the Boulevard Montmartre, &c., to the cemetery of Pere la Chaise. Throughout the whole dis tance through which the procession passed, an immense as semblage was assembled, and all the shops were closed. The religious ceremony at the church of St. Roch wasper formed by the Archbishop of Paris, and a funeral hymn was sung by a choir composed of the principal musicians in Paris, including all the performers of the Academie Royale de Musique. It was half-past two when the procession left the church of St. Rod' for the cemetery of Pere la Chaise, the burying ground of the family, and it was near five when it reached the burying-ground. The ceremony was not over when our express left Paris, but it was understood that, according to the usual custom in France, several speeches would be made over the grave. M. Arago and M. Thiers were spoken of as likely to be among the speakers. It was calculated that be tween those who took part in the procession, and the specta tors, there could not have been much less than half a million of persons assembled. The weather was beautiful, and the whole ceremony passed off without any disturbance or con fusion, beyond what must necessarily take place when the whole population of a great capital assemble. There is a national subscription to be opened immediately to raise a monument to the memory of M. Laffitte. CAUTION.— ouaeotn a mercial gentleman tmheee2tOtthileofeyl‘el of passed ay, forged cheque at an hotel in Liverpool, it is requested CAUTION.--Should who, this on that he will immediately return the money ; or the name, with a description of his person, will be forthwith pub lished in the Hue and Cry. CALEDONIAN ASYLUM. , On Friday the friends of the Caledonian Asylum (the Hon. Sir George Rose in the chair) presented the Rev. John Lees, M.A., with a purse of a hundred sovereigns, and a piece of plate, value one hundred guineas, bearing the following in scription :—" Presented to the Rev. John Lees, M.A., in pursuance of a resolution unanimously passed by a public meeting of the guardians and friends of the Cale donian Asylum, held at the Freemason's Tavern, Lon don, on the 14th of April, 1844, as a lasting testimonial of their respect for his character, and of their gratitude for the paternal and unremitting kindness and zeal with which, for a period of twenty-one years, he discharged the duties of Superintendent and Secretary of that In stitution." Among the subscribers to this well-merited testimonial were his Royal Highness the Duke of Cam bridge, Sir Augustus Frederick D'Este, his Grace the Duke of Sutherland, his Grace the Duke of Richmond, the Duke of Roxburgh, the Marquis of Bute, the Mar quis of Breadalbane, Lord James Stuart, M.P. - ; Lochiel; Chisholm ; Sir Charles Forbes, Bart. ; P. M. Stewart, Esq., M.P. ; Colonel Hu g h Baillie, M.P.,"James Ma theson, Esq., of Achany, &c. THE LIBRARY OF THE LATE DU/LE. OF SUSSEX. —lt is at length definitivelY arranged bytlie imecutors of his late Royal Highness, that the collection of books contained in the late Duke's library shall be submitted to public competition. The sale will commence early in June. iry N 44, 7 , .141. SPORTING INTELLIc ASCOT-HEATH RACES 'N....„ ENTRIES ON SATURDAY. LT AfV TUESDAY.—The Tri a l St a k es o f 5 sovs. eac h , fx, Lord E. Russell's Nat, 4 yrs—Mr. Townely's (for ratans, 5 yrs—Mr. Griffith's Hopbine, 3 yrs—Lord Ches terfield's Joan of Arc, 3 yrs. The:l3orough Members' Plate of 504,A?. • Colonel Peel's br f by Slane, out of Seidtpit- 3 y..s— Mr. Worley's Fistictiff; 4 yrs—Mr. BalchirM.Ah ' iusta - 4 e, 3 yrs—Mr. J. W. Thompson's 'Victoria-Adel:lid( -I,a:is*, 3 yrs—Mr. T. Hussey's Rabbi, 4 yrs—i'lll. .Jacmis's Misconception, 3 yrs—Mr. Death's Radnor, 3 turd Chesterfield's Artful Dodger, 5 yrs—Mr. O.,bald, Shocking Mamma, 4 yrs—Captain Rous's c by Ells, - )ut of Miss Julia, 3 yrs—Mr. Greviile's Porturnuus,. 4 pi— Mr. Copeland's Imaurn, 3 yrs—Mr. E. Clarke's: -LEngo lian, 5 yrs—Mr. Isaac Day's fby Bubastes, uut of g o _ Linda, 3 yrs. _ _ _ WEDNESDAY.—Her Majesty's Plate of 100 guineas, for three years, &c. Mr. Reeve's Tarquin, 4 yrs—Mr. Herbert's Orio?„ 4 yrs—Lord Lonsdale's Blackdrop, 4 yrs—Lord E. ills sell's Nat, 4 yrs—Mr. Herbert's c by Elis, out or ()de.4a, 3 yrs—Mr. Salvin's Alice Hawthorn, 6 yrs—Sir R. W. Bulkeley's b m by Bay • Middleton, out of Adriana, 5 Itrs -Lord Verulaw's Robert de Gorham, 5 yrs- Lord Gleulyon's Ben-y-Ghlo, 4 yrs—Mr. 'l'. Hussey'S 4 yrs—Mr. Jaques's Misconception, 3 yrs--Mr. Ford's The Odd Mixture, 3 yrs—Sir G. - lli-athcote's 4_ yrs—Mr. Cope'and' s Imaurn, 3 )rs—Lord:Exetty's Wee Pet, 4 yrs. • THURSDAY.—The Gra-d Stand Plate of 50 'ovs. 1 Mr. Reeves's Tarquin. 4 yrsHMr. Herbert's : c by Ens, out of Odessa, 3 yrs—Mr. Martin's Emilia!), 5 yrl— • r. Jaques's Advice, 3 yrs—Mr. Witley's Ellen, 5 - yrs 'ir G. Heathcote's bl f by Velociped e , ou t o f Mi ss Wilfr d, 3 yrs—Lord Albemarle's Delapre, 3 yrs—Sir R. W. Bulke!ey's b m by Bay Middleton,- out of A , irian, 5 frs —Lord Exeter's We. Pet, 4 yr s —L or d Exeter's Ma4a Diaz, 4 yrs. : The Wolcingliam Sakes closed with 12 subscribers., The following list of horses already at Ascot, or an nounced to be en route, may probably prevent, our read ers from throwing away their money on non-starters; : Duke of Richmond's Lothario—Lord G. Bentinek' s Bramble, Pastoral, the P r in ce of Wales, Best Bower, and Pulce—Lord March's Jew Boy—Lord Exeter's MT: f el Pet, Elegance filly, Maria Diaz, Mocha, ' eani.Crosl.q.:— Colonel Anson's Attila, the Princesi, Buzz—Lord Ch(i... terfield's 'The Bee, Joan of Arc—Lord ' Maidstot4s Tiddly Winks, Deuce Ace—Mr. Vane's Valeriar::—M r , Wreford's Franchise—Mr. Isaac Day's f by Bubaste , , out of Zelinda, and Seaport—Mr. John Day's Yates, and Old England—Lord Glenlyon's Ben-y-Ghlo—Mr. F. Clarke's Arcanus—Baron Rothschild's Emerald—Mi, Phillimore's Physalis—Mr. Booth's New Year's Day, and Donnybrook—Mr. Smith's El Maberry—Lord .. Russell's Nat—Mr. G. Ongley's Mistery—Mr. Clarke's Priscilla Tomboy—Mr. Payne s Johnny— Greville's Portumnus, Molly Mogg, Jamaica, Al Nininka colt—L or d Ch esterf i eld ' s The Poor Sold' , The Misa Sc arve , M arqu i se f i lly by Horasea, out ' r Dice, Knight o f the. Whistle, Th e Artful Dod gy _ , filly by Jere e d, ou t of Afalibran—Afr. Ford' s P o i s a . Qui Tam, Phalaris, Sir Diggory Diddle, The Odd Mix ture, Eccola—Sir G. Heathcote's Sirikol, Amorii*, Campanero, Khorassan, Campanile —Mr. Herbetft Orion, Delightful colt, Odessa colt—Lord Venda Robert de Gorham and Charlotte— Colonel Pe - " Orlando, lonian, Zenobia, appeakale filly—M r . H i Beaumont—Sir R. W. B u lk e l e y' a Bishop of P-ornfor Cob,-Adriana mare—Mr. Coorribe's Kee:ey—Lorcl Loh .. dale's Blackdrop, Lo a d s t one , 2 yrs, an d colt out 7 f TurquoiseL-Mr. Martin's Emilian—Mr. Stanboroli", Isleworth—Mr. Death's Radnor and Merryman-k-MIC T. Hussey's Rabbi, Loadstar, and Alice Low, 24riA, Lord Albemarle's Delapre, Alecto, and Scarmentadoer Mr. G riffiths' Hopbine—Mr. Bristow's Carissima—Me. It Newman's Bloodstone—Sir T. Spry's The General-1%. Morley's Fisticulf and Sophy Dawes—Mr. Salvin's Ali o s s flaw thorn—Mr. Reeves's Tarquin—Capt. Rous'sMks f , Julia colt—Mr. Mostyn's Princess Alic e an d Panten- 3. rx. E. R. Clarke's Langolian—Mr. Osbaldeston's Shoekiti,k Mamma and Sister to Martingale—Mr. Copelatan Imaum—Mr. Jaques's Misconception and Advice—A Wittey's Ellen—Sir W. W. Wynn's The Era, RemnatS, Rowland, fby Muley Moloch, out of Dryad, &c., ay Vigo, out of Moggy—Mr. J. W. Thompson's Victoria- Adelaide-Louisa—Captain Vyse's Trapola—Lord Ross,- lyn's f by Marcian, 2 yrs—Mr. S. Scott's f by Sir He.. cules, 2 yrs, and Grey Hercules—Mr. Edwards's Hed.co hog —Mr. Townely's Corranna—Mr. Newton's Ma Mil; (dOubful)—Duke . of Bedford's Panth er —M r . F ort h' 4 Ashsted Pet —besideswhick are not engaged. ASCOT RACES. We yesterday visited the course, and found every thing in the most satisfactory state. In the Grand Stand ample preparations were in progress for the reception ef her Majesty, Prince Albert, the Emperor of Russia, and! the King of Saxony, with their respective suites, who will be present on Tuesday, and it is believed on ThuisZ day, " the Cup day"—the day, of all others, the most attractive to the general visitors. A select circle nf English nobility have received invitations to join the Royal assemblage. On Wednesday there is to be t. grand review of the household Brigade in Windsoi• Great Park, at which her Majesty's illustrious guests will be present, and the races in consequence will not commence before two o'clock. Ea.k Rosslyn has been indefatigable in superintending the! requisite appliances for the business department of toe meeting ; the weighing stand, with various accommodny tions for the jockeys and trainers, are upon a scale rf perfect completeness, and the arrangements such us 6 secure regularity and useful facilities to all classes cote; netted with the sports. The press has not been f",e; gotten, and due care has been taken to give its repre ,cntatives full opportunity for accurately describing Old events of each day. All who have witnessed the plans admit that they are the most complete in the kingdom„ Gambling of every description, except as connec•edi e ith the races, tables, thimble tables, &c., will be rigidh suppressed, and for this purpose . an unusually numeronit body of the police will be in attendance. In the Grate 4 Stand the exclusion of the play-tables has left more vat-, for the accommodation of the fashionable frequentersi oft this noble structure, and refreshment ro oms , select lend otherwise, have been prepared under the direction of Mr. Careless, whose fame as a restaurateur has lone been established. The assemblage will be the mat brilliant ever witnessed at any similar meeting in the; kingdom, and the modes of ingress and egress are ad-' . mirably calculated to insure the approbation of the y visitors, who can set down and take up with} perfect facility. This department is under ta r e: • superintendence of Mr. Hibbard, the efficient clerk (q. the course, and trustworthy assistants. In consequence, of the gambling fraternity being excluded there has been; an immense falling off in the revenue arising from let-. ting the ground, and the " public money " given fo.: , stakes has in consequence been materially reduced. 8'414 it is hoped the sport will be such as to afford gene el gratification. There are two printing offices on the: Heath—one conducted by Mr. Willa; of Eghata, th€ other by Mr. Oxley, of Windsor—from whence return; lists will be sent forth at the conclusion of each Taco.-- Observer. THE NEWEST LONDON and PARIS FASHIONS FOR JUNE, 1844. (From the World of Fashion.) CAPS.—Although the form of them continue 'dutch the same, still there is always a constant novelty in the trimmings ; those intended for a moro'ing toilette. being mostly composed of inlet, and lined with; pink or blue gauze, the sole trimming being at chiffon‘ of lace. Small round caps are worn, decorated with a broad Valenciennes, an ,- 1 a wreath of toques of white satin ribbon. The corm - Jrs of those caps intended for demi-toilette are still wc.rn small ; they are to be seen worn of tulle, and dikorated. with lappets in application d'Angleterre, slightly fu'tled i on each of the ears, and forming a trimming with. thw addition of two bunches of roses put on each side ; that gothic lace is also very much used for this style of cap. Chales Mantelets have lately appeared composed oft glacie silk, and bordered with an Algrine fringe ; at the back it forms the usual point ; and in frr.nt tx o square ends. A facing cut en piece, and in two ;arts, goes round the neck, and descends on each 'Side down to the, ends. This shawl is formed of two, pieces, and is joi tie fit t t b a ac se k am which runs perpendicularly up the centre (if! N a a o p d l e t s ri a m re m n o g g! o l bands or narrow ornamented NNET s plaits . then again we see those in silk, covered entirely p , — wi T th h° a se l o o f ng wh fl i a te t g fe ms ath d er e , th e edge of the brim covered with a don'oits with crepe ; paille ; others are striped with straight fold of gauze and tulle alternately. NOVELTIES.—Scarfs which are now worn are of (axe .texture. Shawls also commence to be seen ; they are et' a very light material, unless when composed of ewe: broidered China crepe. We have reroarkee. several.' plain muslin scarfs, doublees, with pink r.ind blue gauzes.: ECHARPES MALTAISES.—These seeds have been ite..l vented expressly for the present season, and are of? a most becoming form of mantelet; the ground of 7it being in black lace, and trimmed with that same, literally enveloping the figure from head' to foot; the cut of the lace covering th,o arms' , in the same manner as a long sleeve wouVi do; it isi rounded, and falls low on every side, allowing sometimes; the edge of the dress being seen. The Maltese ladies± add to this mantille a kind of small peleeine, forming et' second shawl, and which can be throw over the head,. so as to shade it from the evening sun,, adding much UP-) the piquancy and originality of this elegant mantelet. ' DRESSES.—Those made of light te'xtures are decorate& with several flounces; these flounces are, for the most part;) on the cross, and are put on nearly as high as the hips they are laid nearly flat on the skirts, and sometimes.- edged with a broad fringe or narrow cut ruches others are trimmed with a sin g le broad flounces' , edged and headed with a plaiting of ribbon en ruche or broad biair, f o ld s , pu t on s l a nting _ass high as the middle of th e j u p e , o r ribbons fuller-. in the centre, put on en ruche round the facings, and scolding on each side of the front. The corsages vat: hags according to the temperature of the weather, either _ or half high; they still, however, remain flat, an, this . sleeves mostly plain, or half long; except, ndeed, ,eh they are made so short that they resemble the shispe of an epaulet more than a sleeve. PAILLE DE lirz are .still considered a graceful and becoming style of hat. The form of them are rather more raised in the front than t.ie silk bonnets; the• most elegant mode of trimming them being three white feathersside, and tipped w i t h violet ,• • taffetas., and the s ame s h a d e o r the ribbonplaced being on the of leil violet as the feathers, or decorated with two rows of: English lace ; the one covering the brim, the other de.,- scolding upon the crown, united with a demi wreatk. sr • roses and nceuds of green ribbon placed at- the extre mity on each side ; others are decorated with lilac mara- , bouts, orwreaths of mixed flowers. FASHIONABLE COLOURS.—The most prevailing colours for the present are those which admit of being prettily shaded, such as lilac, green, blue, pink, and white; the cameleon is still also the rage, and a mixture of dahlia • and cherry colour , ~....,:_a„,,.. 1 _,„,., ~.„,..,,,„....,.,,..„...,,.,,z !,,,,,,g_„,,,„ [l l _ A At a Al o , c isi bt i u re bob" ' IJ* ,' 1 1 II