The Sun. — London, England, 1844-05-28 00:00:00

..-----' icE• subscribers Oaks possible no possl.. - of all ac' ) f Running therefore, a 'l, with the documen t ' room, to n: l nd we s, l in fl ue nts le crowded., t, either d i settleme nt ' receiving ' l rtioned , 1 Jra Cr • O S re' OCkfOrd, ) the twoa of the ch cause rod. 'or doing Tatter Se lf find o e to pia: r D hu esosn'" • alI ln i4t ; an d larger Sub )gether wi s - far as tosi ' tis po tn"" o, 1 1"" 'bout to ira 3 ; -ours P3° ;lIFOIID. (4.0' t Ey ,he bt F hn o u ed tO d is the o seta e JBYI4u. ;JAN'. it O il a as tO settling, tion as 1 1. 7, roP e si a P r r ider the the P° l 7, e ster, t?tito D rol oo d, :A. 1 0 0 e Ste r r furthe r on te d e s. tbat .ent Pe e the Iter la 00 rOceSS , A 4 4 y eStelW- n isinfor ro , 6 ! his u i ,r illi ti c b lj y en take 600 declar e be . e ) tba", w id, • htvi L o ut it fineA tOt well ° th e N ov er ( go co tl l °' to° to has to tbe i fror" . oa . .0 a f b , Dote fat Pa r • 01 . 0 0, 0 c 6 ,1 l iTO'c fo' ripoi`, THE iTRES, ETC. HAYMARKET. The Sempstress, a domestic draml, from the en ° o f : “ :- t nd founded on the humanity wi"g " Song at the Shirt," by T. Hood, was acted tim- very "crowded house in the t ` l • ll tarliet last night. The piece opens with a coun 'try scene, in which' Mercy Goldring (Miss P. Hor ")a) is di,,,,„„, ; •1. do wof her grand filth at he cottage a -._, p dlar (Mr. Strickland), mil(ing a shirt for "e of the re' I - •in farmers while Plainwood ,1 /OIL ar , 4`,"ll%Stuart), her lover, is nailing some rose trees to the cottage wall in m hi(h the grandfather has the t i rQ duee Of his industry and self-denial concealed. oldring returns home after a successful excursion con-,h Ilay of Soo calling, and deposits an ad s „41 uin ney in his hiding place, t;ls w.. - tchel by G usse t, a d ra p e r, a n d his half- E ,en servant, Bobbin (Mr. Buckstone), who pre- W eltl .Y make off with the treasure. Bob Debit (Mr. and Mall), •. a 1( is staying at the village h e b P e eling the mo n ey o f his father, from whom a. ' l5 fled, but seei ng an advertisement in the news ' , % .Pe th r, statin g th at if he s h ou ld return h e wou ld mee t i f J lr givericsQ, he accordingly returns, and takes oth er "nn Lydia Sp ar kl e (Mi ss J u lia Bennet) as his (L" self, and they take lodgings in the house of e c ; : et• In the course of a few years, Debit, who itC",, llll ea his gambling propensities, is involved Woe of and becomes a borrower of leooef Gusset's money. In the mean time, Plain t() I, and Mercy Goldring are married, and remove Vit a °ra don, together with the grandfather, whose are affected by the loss of his money. Here vibb _ t_ . a f re redu ce d t o th e grea t es t di s t ress , t o alleviate a % e Mrs. Pl a i nwoo d see k s f or emp l oymen t from Itacisset, Who tells her, that " business is business,' bn that s h e must not expect more than other 1 1 - 4. 111 e. She returns to her forlorn home, "to ply Gin .needle and thread," and consoles herself by ti l ta g in g " the Song of the Shirt." Mean e;- the villany of Gusset is discovered by of e b .B of the notes lent to Debit, and the confession ar e ,'° l Thin. The result is that the Plainwoods of c t ,gain made happy, and Gusset is left in the hands ` 4 e' proper officers. Such is the outline of the il l : 4 l',,and we confess it failed in touchino• us as we anticipate such a subject in such li'andi would P47: e (k ale. The shirt scene was much too long for 11 , 1 ) 13 : 11111 a one. The air of the shirt song was not W ord We would have been led to imagine from the and the main design, or that which should be t ut ": L. ain design, is subordinated to the acting of Mr. ittip —.4 "lte• We know the moral intended is to ttiff,, tB Ili with the duties we' owe to our common ttna tit hurearli,y, and an abhorrence of crime, the te rm and pre : , sure of the - scene are too real to Pie,„"e 1 by broad laughter and diversion- This of i; w as foll owe d b y th e ex t raor di nar y p er f ormances aee tP r 'ssor and Lis sons. Were it only to l ittni e p% - nderful perfection to which Mr. Risley has visit -' in his art, and imparted to his children, a p aid to the Haymarket would be amply re- Ktt tre There is nut, we verily believe, a single iof which the h uman frame is capable, 4 Rri t hese boys do not put themselves in with th e i : l ee and lightnes that impart something of Th e eall tiful to an art generally esteemed low. fe ats t hence gave evidence of their satisfaction at the alat i 4 ; : agility by repeated—almost continuous— tage'" ; and at the close they came in front of the 414'1 e an d Were m os t cor di a lly rece i v ed. The en ter- hiz a ll o ts the evening closed with the extrava the "Fair One with the Golden Locks." TII E L CE UAL the; The enterprise of the Keeleys as managers,. and my, mane l 'ity as artists wcre alike displayed last night, 1 4s sv , v v Piece for the ' Witsuntide holidays, which ti the ell g°t up, well 'Jived, and—a greater merit than Ith o r---to mplet ' ely successful. It was announced . as li sPl ° , ri g i nal comic drama ;" if it is not misnamed it d e 41 44 1443 Much more cl,;verncss of construction, an in sierra s -a , 11 1 , 4 stv.ge effect, than are usually found "Mt not • tbe;r plot, if not their dialogue,, p 0 ortc _ fi at original. The author has drawn his 411e-t-crorn one of the many incidents of the met a l that eccentric sculptor and worker butin Ilerivenut Cellini—an undoubted genius,. u sr , 0 ,lti:fii llict bing in him of the madman, and not a ht . - . -4 e ruffian. The scene is laid during the rem of +v. • -.4 artist at the court I\ ''eAls) l !'here the Chancellor, Count Poyet (Mr. Did :',tlc•jr„Tonspiri g against his King, in favour of the who cr 41ourbonn-l-e has also a ward under his care, e°44,denlphatically a wa.. - d in Chancery, for he has ; 11 ,, 4 4 A -Q t „', l ler, with the intention of compelling her to Zit g e ;:trn, being an heiress, and lovely withal. The raeti,'aphina (Miss Chaplin) pines, as may be sup rare, 11 ,nder this treatment, of which the end is t n4ti she iinaAine. Cellini (Mr. Emery) on sri(l,l 4 3' to the Court, leaves his favourite pupil 411itiZOIrs.Keeley) under the lady's garden wall,. to 4 ,rt n"l's return, and he, to beguile the time, sings a 'I t:1• 4 , - On x:c : nlat:on , which draws the beautiful 414de,15t0 tl ; i balcony, from whence a contract is .‘ l l- , w ecn the p a i r , w ith a ll th e p romp t ness , if Ai Te puetr of the engagement between Romeo p tn the same fly situation. They are over -1,3', Francis himself, who lO font over for tra yt o df t p oil i t is to etinue while hunting, and, so sPoiling' the . i r- dan, he assists them, by aiding tr the - ett , ck of Captain Sangfeu (Mr. J. iT il itaW e PeUp. “ ste (Mr. Keeley), ag been leg asconadin the a , 4 ' l a cowardly ta;lor, who have e s pial 'hancellor, in charge of his ward. The a „ e r , ti l ng' of K;ele3 in this scene, well seconded I ,'‘ 'V Mr. Collie; produced roars of laughter. vvl(:st,ll,l,exceeded by ti e last scene of the first act, 414:Z411. is required to tell the story of the elope xet ? 0 jtv.tice to his own valour in the pre he -e 1 , 4 h Ills puzzled perplexity and terror m 'ias tl b, at the King and the unknown from 4 "" s 'd I I " punishment," are one e sam e cons] tarna.Y be conceived, _but hardly described. t o 'N; f i e '' or is further mixed up with - the . plot ., by A ; r ,,.• , !,!,, e . "` the -u , r4estion of the Chancellor, 1, 14 e net? o f th e diabolical character of a cer '4l(-j'alltic head cf . Mars, on which Cellini is at IY lr tt :!, 1d hi te can observe from his Ile" th thel°w; ('the L o a la ) e e Ct being to ruin the artist ;o1 1)3 that. -, 41 g by accuswg him of sorcery. It hap lte' it eid,lio and his bride, having no means of 11 4trl i "theice sping on their own account, and it 1 re f lx" si be f , :r them to live in Cellini' s dwelling, t .heir habitation, for the want of a better, (i , ti4 t h atai ri or of the gi gan ti c h ea d . Cellini, to clear ° ist ne ell(r c” "' h rings the King to inspect it ; the aeili t° th an hjA confi.derates choose the Monarch's %c.,:qR Lt..; artist as a . favourable opportunity for aho co n , ls erso n ; but Fidelio, 'warned . of their trea thr a t tl a boly of armed men within the head, k u, • ° tlgh it 111011)cl-A they are most wanted, break tf - Jeat4 t e ' v t ereowe r the conspirators, and give the - h ttl edi es ° ,e as grateful to his deliverer, as the kings ei tN atw a.Ys are, by confirming his union with sh, , and 4t eri making all end as it ought to do. k t . e th e ~s 4 lB of the piece are slight, but they are 44, 1 1 1 : t „f, and the parts played 1)); Mr. and 11.4 h1 . bei , g exactly suited to Lem, ld_ y v ;vh, :) i e The (tresses and scenery were new, and kt`pf t. l!tti oB . up unexceptionable. The court - h e Intrly erelli's house with the gigantic head, .was 44 Il lt aurrn inert` Tile applause was frequent during ( lu4 at tily ' ne e, and was renewed so generally and } )tit the fill of the curtain, that we cannot Ileads Better than One will be a fa souietime to come. The evening's eteB eluv(l with Polhamania and the Forty e liuse was very fully attended. tTh. h. Is 0- - Y'S. i1)413 favon to fur e n d ight pro _. 1 „. 1 1e ., ,,,, awith hui t( L y A l T A e p o S h p it e l L :e a E a t t u r i e A - o l f r. A ß r ; t i.t s ty w e as Tv la ay s i7d. t s, pre ,-”liti4 "I'lOllS bill of fare. The Owl" trian spec- NI% 4 gPand, naval, military, and eques th services 14 I`,-'.4rlded oti the recent events piece, 41'S;1•4a' wlis the first and n b f est bo T; 'IN that n id render its representation . the 4, et %,„,.41 , -00 personages in ar4, , adder!. The principal ‘4(l 11.e'e Sir 11 ,•,- p tt' n rer Sir and Hugh .Gough,of 1, tb, ,„ . cni 016 , . A view erts ,-,Lilticse C ommissioner Lin- i n the i.q Acluth, with the ship shippi ng 01m-boats, &e., formed a Spi t was ver •• bpeautilul, and . tt L 4114 t.b!cQux 4 Ith rlterllS • • Asecond, . of e. t .-: arra , presented a variety Mandarins, 3' ‘ the scenes, Chins-e Feast hch ritiaturY Of cavalry, Tartar soldiers, 44 Cli.c 4 arti'. l'el)s, with festive sports of peace, dan t c h i i n r g d: 1 41 skill in gymnastic wonders. The 41ttlttlbte 4,10041184gt0ne was the destruction of Amoy, with of shoting, cheering, &c., conse -4114 hut, 'kr. Batty finding that the e4ta en6Pagernent. It was well epcoeilkvead eople Pf' Lam 44 geiZed the ' minds of the It ,ivsbeth, produced it last night, when good p m de 14°Isell clarleed in excellent style by - a A„ e Cushni tit"etr and s. and Signor Milano. Madamewon h,,f'ul e queste igoor Grerman.l . perforin . ed hip 0 ~lan acts and surprising feats, with I qty e .t IVIr• Barry, the clown of the circle, . %r e , r I.lnpersonation of six different characters in \NI entitled Aha F Brent in which he was and the tti 84PPerted y.after the . air, , aun___- „!'rits9. Th.. house Miss Pettifer, varied . _ the_ "se lqtritiieleueevvvrias ell and respectably filled by lit hetattty's whoterce efforts aFk withsever' Y 413Plause. Prisin g alinrehnutshdosf he • t. SURREY , hotitlui.abitarits of the Surrey side of the Thame s ~ qd et tit) st rew on the opposite side, naturally expect 2 tra o cote ruinary treat at this old resort for thea 44tis ortiirtainme,nt during the various holiday_ se_aa tlke'a.el e house last night affordedthe 14 44 e unnsual interest, both as regards Wt.r, Antlounced and the manner in which they kigitr,xitited. We have seldom seen so large an Ititio.‘lee• It o er s cat ma y s afel'r be said that there was nt:o in the the pit, or the more ar_is_ tit Parts of the theatie, which was not occup.ieed.. gecoluroencement of the performance. What b came of those who had determined to patronise it at half-price is a question which we leave them to answer. But we must say a word or two as to the bill of fare which created so eager an appetite. The first piece was a new and original domestic drama (in three acts) by an author of celebrity (they might safely mention his name in future at the Surrey)—entitled The Instrument of Torture ; or, The Needle and its Victims. As will be guessed from the title, the plot of the piece was founded chiefly on the sufferings of a sempstress, and many allusions were scattered through the piece to the various facts which have recently been made known in connection with the distressed needlewomen of the metropolis. A worthy old gentleman, named Abraham Bags, an old clothesman in the Minories, of the Hebrew per suasion, is the employer of the heroine of the play, whose adventures, though they extend beyond the needle, are closely connected with that " instrument of torture" up to the close of the piece. By the bye, this old Bags puts forth a remark which may be worthy of being remembered, namely, that himself and his frater nity are, after all, not so guilty as respects this matter as some who profess to pity the case of the sufferers, or at least that they share the guilt with those who are not willing to pay a remunerating price for their garments. A word to those who profess pity should be as weighty as a word to the wise. The piece was listened to throughout with marked int:rrest ; and on the falling of the curtain the announcement of its repetition was received with cheering from all parts of the theatre. Next came a new tragic-comical, operatic, historical burlesque, in one act, entitled Georg, y Barnwell; or, the Unfortunate London Ap. Prentice, a very pretty burlesque, indeed, and one which told well with the audience. In order to avoid the incongruity of a real murder, the uncle was stabbed with a pair of tailor's scissors, which, instead of killing him, entered a box of Holloway's pills, which he carried in his pocket ; and this contrivance prepared the way for a very satisfactory termination, as a part of which the repetition of the piece was announced. A Grand Visionary Fairy Spectacle, in two acts, en titled The Spirit of the Snow Drift; or, the Frozen Charm, concluded the entertainments of the evening. Mortals and immortals, fairies, sylphs, ruined towers, and old oak chambers, in turn, varied the scene, and did their best to make the beholders forget the mo notony of their every-day occupations. We cannot speak too highly of the getting up of the above pieces. The acting, too, was excellent, and afforded, to all appearances, universal satisfaction. We have little doubt that this theatre, while conducted as it is at present, will maintain its long-standing popularity. VICTORIA THEATRE. The holiday folk assembled last night at this well known house in great numbers, but unfortunately, through the peccadillo of one of the members of the corps dramatique, they were doomed to be disap pointed. A piece, which was. not produced, had been for several days previously announced in the attrac tive phraseology, and conspicuously varied type of an unusually large-sized playbill, to be in preparation for commencing the evening's entertainments, and of course much was anticipated, and, as a natural sequence, many were disappointed. The piece was stated to be " a new historical drama, in three acts, preceded by a prefatory introduction in one act, en titled Hugo Mauravert, or the Poison King ;" but as the chief character had been entrusted to a gentleman who had, within a few hours of the opening of the doors, eloped, as it was rumoured, with the fair pro prietress of the saloon attached to the theatre, the audience were treated to the following notice instead of the historical drama : " The public are respe'tfully informed that in conse quence of Mr. Freer having so suddenly and unjustifi ably withdrawn himself from the theatre, even at the notice of a few hours only, it will be impossible to per furm, for the present, the drama of Hugo lilaura vert, as already advertised. The manager, therefore, throws himself on the indulgence of the audience, and, in giving this public notice, begs to announce that OR this evening, Monday, May 27, will be performed the cele brated play of the Stranger." This at first produced a slight convulsion ; but the excellent acting of Mr. Osbaldiston and Miss Vin cent soon restored order, and the evening passed away with animation and good humour. Subse quently to The Stranger, two pieces were presented, the first called Ccesar, the Dutch Dog of the Castle, and the second The Parting Kiss. Of the former, the less said the better. It reflects no merit on the author, while its incidents are a libel on the taste and general good judgment of the indefatigable manager. '1 he last is a two act nautical drama, of the old school, being plentifully interspersed with music, broad-sword combats, and abounding largely in ma rine scenic effects. QUEEN'S. Mr. C. J. James, the enterprising lessee of this popular little house, has brought several novelties be fare his ll'hitsun-holiday patrons. These comprise every range of character, from the melancholy mur derer, the admired of the gods, to the " gay Lothario," the delight of the little ladies in the boxes. The amusements of the evening commenced with a new piece, written expressly for the Queen's, entitled Chester Fair, or the Prophecy. The play is cast in that troubled age, when Wales was as yet uncon quered by England, and it opens with a view of the fair in Chester market-place. The bustle of such a scene is well enacted, and the diversified groups of jongleurs, harpers, glee-maidens, and dancing-girls, come up to our ideas of a merry-making in the olden times. Sir Roger Dutton (Mr. J. Parry), the High Steward of Chester, mixes with the motley crowd, and is by a fortune-teller informed that he will fight a duel for a dancing-girl, that by so doing he will render his ladye love jealous, but that ulti mately " he will win her by timely rescuing her from the Welshman, with a tattered army." The doughty Knight fulfils the first part of the prophecy by res cuing Marian (Miss Stoker), a peasant girl, from the hands of Chief Justice Glanville (Mr. Rogers), thus securing the gratitude of her lover, Allan (Mr. Rey nolds), a minstrel, who has considerable influence with the mobocracy of the fair. So far so good ; but unfortunately the hero's ladye love, Mary de Lacy (Miss Rogers), fired by her lover's supposed unfaith fulness, flies her father's castle, and takes refuge with Earl Randolph (Mr. Renard), in his castle of Rothelan, on the borders of Wales, the very worst place, as it happens, to which she could have fled, as it is imme diately afterwards invested by the Welsh moun taineers. This calamity has its advantages, however, for it gives Sir Roger Dutton an opportunity of ful filling the last link in the prophecy, by defeating her enemies with the very ragged gentlemen who had been enjoying themselves at Chester fair. Such is the outline of the plot. It was a bustling thing throughout, and the actors seemed at home in their parts. Mr. Parry and Miss Romer, with Mr. Hodson, who personifies a drunken Irish fiddler, were particularly happy. The unities were not always well preserved by the authoress, but, as a whole, the piece was very suc cessful. This was followed by "a drama of intense interest," called The Vision of Death, or the Post house on the Heath, which seemed to go off rather flatly. The amusing burletta of Devils in the Room succeeded; and the bill of fare was wound up by a melo-drama, by Mr. Barnett, entitled The Skeleton Hand, or the Demon Statue. The name will give the reader an idea of the " glamourie" compressed into the two acts. We have forests and caves innumerable, banditti above number; interesting gallants in cloaks and dominos ; supernatural appearances and—the Polka dance! The performances throughout the evening seemed to give general satisfaction ; the house was respectably filled, and the audience in the upper tiers much more quiet than might have been anticipated on a Whit Monday. OLYMPIC. Mr. G. Wild gratified the ho liday-makers last night, by a revival, or reproduction, of that panto mime of pantomimes, Mother Goose, which George the Third patronised above all others, and which Lord Eldon—the always-doubting and never-deciding Lord Eldon—went fourteen times to see. We be lieve its glories from tradition only, for we never saw it ; and as Joe Grimaldi is gone, and the manuscript of the piece is said to have been burned with Drury lane, we are willing to admit to the old folks that no such pantomime ever was before, or ever will be again produced. But it is something to revive the traditionary points of such a piece. This the Olympic play-bill assures us has been done ; the comic business of the opening was well got up, and the dresses and masks had a fresh appearance that spoke favourably. The music is said to be revived from the old score. Mr. Bologna and Mr. Jefferini were the Harlequin and Clown ; Mr. Hartland was the Pantaloon. The part of Columbine was very gracefully danced by Miss E. Gates. The house was well filled, and the pantomime was favourably received. SADLER'S WELLS. " 'Tis true 'tis pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true," in those days of enlightenment, we have to announce the performance of Macbeth so far away from the aristocratic the " monied"— the " pelf-hoarding" regions of the West as Sadler's Wells. The lo cality is nothing ; the absence of Shakespeare from the "national ?" theatres is another ; but glad are we to say that, although there was an audience so crammed together as to cause many recriminations at first, the moment the curtain rose, and the develop ment of the ideas of our immortal bard commenced, the dropping of a pin might have been heard in the house. Mrs. Warner was the Lady Macbeth, Mr. Phelps, the usurper. Few persons who have watched this lady's stage career can be at all sur prised, when we say that throughout the whole piece she made tangible to the " readers" of Shakspeare the creations of his imagination. Mr. Phelps as Macbeth, displayed much knowledge and study of his author, but some would feel almost inclined to think that a slight degree of modulation in some parts of his delivery might give a little more effect. In say- THE SUN, LONDON, TUESDAY MORNING, MAY 28, 1844. ing this, we mean not in the slightestdegree to depre ciate Mr. Phelps' high talents. The dissection of the tragedy of Macbeth would be an act of pedantry dur ing the present reading mania, which increases and will as time rolls by, but we must say, in sadness and sorrow, that to see the talent which can at the present day embody the conceptions of England's— the world's—intellectual idol, you must walk as far towards Islington as Sadler's \\Tells, and turn your back upon Grosvenor, Berkeley, and sundry other aristocratical and (consequently ?) intellectual squares, crescents, and quadrangles. Mrs. Warner delivered an address after the conclusion of the tragedy with her usual grace, in which was an expression of regret for the absence of—can it be called appreciation ? scarcely—but of attention to the attempts of deve loping the ideas of him " who was not for an age, but for all time." Happy are we to say that there was quite enough of the good old leaven—albeit, those who manifested it might never have occupied a stall at the Opera—to appreciate and loudly applaud the lady at the conclusion of the epilogue. The next performance • was that of the Hunter's Bride, or the Rose of Altenheitn, the music of which was by Mr. Clement White, and in this case he supported his honestly earned reputation. Mr. George Forman (lately of the Adelphi Theatre) sustained the rather difficult character of Maximilian Blokk, and drew down roars of laughter by his quaint humour. Few men could have more effec tively brought out before the audience such a character as he had to support in this piece. " Though last, not least," comes Miss Lebatt, who, both as an actress and a songstress, was appreciated by every person of taste and feeling. In conclusion, we shall address ourselves to old English feeling, and say, if you like to see the best performance of Shak speare (at the present time), and the travestied im personation of what we see and hear around us passing every day, go to Sadlers' Wells. ROYAL SURREY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. These gardens opened for the season yesterday, and were crowded to excess. This is the first season the gardens have been under the management of Mr. Tyler, who has displayed great taste in the manner in which he has laid them out. Adorned as they now are with beautiful parterres, fine casts from antique statues, and elegant fountains, they form one of the most agreeable summer lounges in the neighbourhood of the metropolis. The doors opened at twelve o'clock, thus giving ample time for a lounge round the gardens, and for the inspection of the animals ; and at two o'clock Messrs. Cameron, Campbell, Mackay, and M'Donald, the Highland pipers and dancers, who were selected by the Marquis of Breadalbane to perform their national melodies and national dances before her Majesty and Prince Albert at Taymouth Castle, commenced the perform ances with their national dances and melodies. Their costumes were beautiful, and their dancing was distinguished by a gracefulness, an appropriateness, a fitness, if we may be allowed the expression, which we have never before seen infused into so-called Highland dancing. The dancing of these High landers was characteristic, was national. Those who saw it could not but at once perceive that they were witnessing the real national dance of the country, performed by native dancers, denizens of the land of mountain and flood, who entered into the spirit of what they were performing with all that intensity which so completely distinguishes reality from the most elaborate and even graceful imitation. At five o'clock General Tom Thumb, the greatest little man in the world, gave a history of himself, and an imita tion of Napoleon ; and shortly after six o'clock the promenade concert commenced under the direction of Mr. Godfrey. On the lake was exhi bited a Grand New-modelled Representation of London in the Olden Time, painted by Danson and Telbin. This model is one of the most elaborately constructed, and one of the most correctly deli neated, of any of the many marvellous models of the wonders of nature and of art, which have been ex hibited at these gardens. In the centre rises Old St. Paul's, surrounded by the curiously constructed houses of the olden time, and fllanked on the one side by the old Lud-gate and the towers of Castle Baynard, and on the other, by old London-bridge, covered with houses, and defended by its gates, leading to the Southwark side of the river. As the evening draws in, the houses on the bridge are lighted up, and gradually lights are seen twinkling in the various windows of the different houses in the City. These are gradually extinguished, and the city and its inhabitants are at rest. Suddenly a dense cloud of smoke is seen rising from the neigh bourhood of Pudding-lane—flames burst forth—the fire-bells are heard tolling in all directions. We are presented with a view of the Great Fire of London. The houses on the bridge are consumed and fall in; the flames are seen ascending the spires of the churches. Street after street becomes a prey to the flames, until at length the smoke is seen issuing from the tower of St. Paul's, and the magnificent cathedral itself is con sumed. The effect produced by the flames as they are seen issuing from the lofty tower and magnificent windows of the fine old cathedral is exceedingly fine, and Mr. Southby, the artist, to whom the manage ment of this pyrotechnic spectacle has been en trusted, has completely succeeded in his attempt to give an idea of the great fire of London. The stage management of the performances, if we may be allowed the expression, is much better this year than it has been on any former occasion ; there is not that unnecessary lapse of time between the end of the concert and the commencement of the pyro technic display, of which we have had occasion for bestof t t h h a e n k w s . for merly to complain, and for thi s i mprovement we tender eathNerott"h' Notwithstanding hst gardens andin g w er the e unfavourable M r Tyler our state crowded. There could not have been less than 3,000 persons present, and all seemed highly delighted with the amusement provided for them. MADEMOISELLE ROSSINI, THE LADY VIOLINIST. Since the year 1756, when blademoisselle Schamling (after wards the celebrated Madame Mara), delighted the dilettanti of Vienna, Paris. and London, by her performances on the violin, the world has seen no celebrated lady violinist This, perhaps, may be attributed to an idea which many ladies may perhaps entertain that the violin is an awkward instru ment for a lady. Mademoiselle Rossini, however, proves that this is not the case. In her hands the violin is the most graceful of instruments. We had the pleasure of being present at her private rehearsal concert on Saturday, at the Adelphi Theatre, and were highly delighted and equally astonished at her performances.. There is about her playing a firmness and precision of touch, and a freedom of bowing which we should not haVe expected in a lady. Her• purity and correctness of tone is truly wonderful. In the grand Scotch Fantasia, she introduced the beautiful air of " Auld Robin Gray," and gave it with an expressive pathos —a thrilling tenderness of tone that reminded us strongly of the pathetic and tender expression of Miss Stephens's voice in the same ballad. She was admirably supported by the members of the Collini family, one of whom Miss Emma Collini gave us Bishop's Echo Song in the most exquisite manner. This young lady possesses one of the most delightful voices we have ever heard, and will at no distant day secure to herself a high position in her profession, if she bestow the necessary study and application to its cultivation. Her sister, Miss Victoria Collini, performed one of Corelli's sonatas on the violoncello, and bids fair to be come as perfect a violincellist as Mademoiselle Rossini is a violinist. If we mistake not, the performance of Mademoi selle Rossini will make the violin a popular instrument among ladies. Madame Mara attributed her success as a vocalist to her practice as a violinist. "If I had a daughter," said Madame Mara, " whom I wished to become a singer, I would have her taught the violin. Neither the human voice nor any fixed instrument can teach a pupil the minute divisions of a note so accurately as the vibrations of the string of the violin." The Great Wizard of the North has exhibited more than his usual tact in engaging those very ta lented young ladies ; and if this great musical treat, in addi tion to his own ambidextrous prestidigitations," does not secure him overflowing houses every night, there is no taste extant. ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS.—The Court of Examiners admitted the following gentlemen members of the Royal College of Surgeons on Friday evening last :—Henry Kingsley, Guy's Hospital ; Nathaniel John Dampier, Guy's Hospital ; Samuel J. Remnant, St. Bartholomew's Hospital ; Thomas Callaway, Guy's Hospital ; Robert Ellis, University College ; Edward J. Protheroe, University College ; Richard Donovan, Dublin ; James M. Moullin, Dublin ; John Cowburn, University College ; Thomas Hepwell, Dublin ; Wil liam C. Byass, Guy's Hospital ; George Frederick Wills, Guy's Hospital ; Henry Fearnside, University College. LATE FIRE AT LYME.—It is now correctly ascer tained that 39 dwelling-houses, including the Cups Ho tel, and five other inns and public-houses, were totally destroyed by the fire on Saturday the 11th instant ; and there are also from six to ten houses, including one pub lic-house, partly destroyed. There are besides this the Custom-house, a brew house, a malt-house, the exten sive stabling and coach-houses of the Cups Hotel, a bonded store belonging to Mr. Goddard, the wine mer chant, the capacious salt stores of Mr. Prosser, and the coal stores adjoining, belonging to Messrs. Munden, Prosser, and Urquhart ; the large cellars and counting house in the occupation of Messsrs. Gundry and Co., the brewers, of Bridport ; and the stabling and coach houses in the George yard, belonging to that inn and the executors of the late Mr. Edwards, totally destroyed. We are happy to hear that most of the sufferers are in sured for the buildings, but some of the parties who have lost their furniture and wearing apparel are wholly un insured. A most liberal subscription, amounting to nearly 6001. has been entered into by the gentry and tradesmen of the town and neighbourhood, which will be fully sufficient, when completed, to remunerate the sufferers to the extent of their several losses. Had the wind blown from the east or south-east, nearly the whole town must inevitably have been burnt down.—Salisbury Herald. Died, at Melrose, on the 18th curt., at a very ad vanced age, Jean Burnett. She entered the service of the late Mrs. Gardiner, in the year 1771, and on her marriage, continued till her mistress's death, eleven years ago, when she passed into the service of her son, Alex. W. Gardiner, Esq., Melrose, where she continued till her own death as above—thus completing, with undevi ating integrity and industry, a service in the same family, without ever having left it, of no less a period than seventy-three years—a period which, it is believed, has few parallels in Scotland. LITERAT LIRE. COMNGSBY. 3 Vols. CoMurnl London, 1844. I Of all the works of fiction that Mr. D'lsraeli has yet produced—and he has for some years been a dili gent labourer in the fruitful fields of fancy— Coningshy is the one that does most credit to his head and heart. The egotism and assumption that, like flaws in a vein of marble, ran through his otherwise delightful " Young Duke"—the tone of flippant levity, caught from Lord Byron's " Don Juan," that formed such a drawback to his brilliant " Vivian Grey"—the exaggerated sentiment and rhapsodical mysticism of his " Contarini Fleming," wherein he seemed constantly within reach of fine thoughts and as constantly missing them ;—all these defects, so de trimental to the effect of his earlier and cruder tales, have disappeared from the work before us ; which is manly, energetic, and healthy in feeling; sound— sometimes even original—in thought; bold in portrai ture ; sincere, eloquent, and lofty in its political ut terances ; and wholly free from anything like conven tional cant. Such a work, recommended by so many sterling qualities, was never more wanted than at the present time, if only to counteract that low, vulgar, flash spirit that has crept into our lighter lite rature—a spirit which loves to haunt the purlieus of Newgate and Field-lane, which manufactures heroes ou t of thieves and murderers, and apotheosizes upstart cockneys and vagabond adventurers as though they were so many demi-gods. If Coningsby do nothing more than "put out of Court"—to use a legal term —the prevalent taste for this depraved, unhealthy I class of works, by imparting a loftier and more generous tone to fiction, it will have accomplished great good; but its salutary effects, we hope, will not stop here ; it is a tale eminently suggestive, fur- , nishing the materials of thought even more than of entertainment, and tending to rouse a spirit of inquiry in the reader's mind, which can scarcely lead to other than beneficial results. If we except a few Quixotic speculations, savouring rather of the idealist than the practical politician, there is not a single sentiment enunciated in Coningsby that is not based on truth. The author is no party man—he is not blinded by prejudice—he swears neither by Whig nor Tory—he is utterly indifferent to what may be thought of him in Downing-street—but in all his theories and sug gestions has a reverent regard to what he deems to be the best interests of the community at large. Even those who may dissent from his tenets will not fail to admire the earnest and elevated spirit that characterises them—the eloquence with which they are expressed, and the sagacious reasoning with which they are enforced. Mr. D'lsraeli, we need scarcely inform our readers, is one of those ardent and sanguine politicians to whom their adversaries, by way of ridicule, have given the nit-name of " Young England." The leading principle of these comprehensive reformers is, if we mistake them not, that of faith in the national character, and distrust of all sects and factions. Having closely watched the progress of events during the last twelveyears, they have discovered—and what thinking man can have failed to do otherwise ?—the utter hollowness and selfishness of party—its inability to conciliate the suffrages of the people—to unite them in the bonds of brotherhood—enlist their cordial sympathies—and win their unhesitating confidence. As yet " Young England" is but in embryo ; it has scarcely chipped the egg-shell ; but it gives promise of a lusty growth, and will, we suspect, live to see the downfall of the two feeble, antiquated sects of Whig and Tory, and raise its head triumphantly above the ruins. It is impossible, indeed, that things can continue much longer in their pre sent unhealthy and distracted state. True, we have a Government all but omnipotent in both Houses of Parliament ; but it is a Government that rules, not by public opinion, but in spite of it—that owes its strength to the jealousies of party, and the cold, con temptuous indifference of the people who, after many years of disappointment, seem to have lost all faith in their rulers, whether of Whig or Tory persuasion. A nation, slowly indeed but surely advancing in intelli gence, and a Government which should originate im pulses and head movements, either standing stock-still or retrograding—a Crown, whose chief-distinction is a state-carriage and eight cream-coloured horses—an aristocracy, possessing a world of showy privileges but little substantial power—a vast commercial class, careless of everything but the pursuit of gain—a church cold, indifferent, selfish, and distracted with sectarian feuds—a peasantry, viewing in their superiors oppressors rather than guardians, but, concurrently with their operative brethren, fast awakening to a true sense of their situation such are the discordant elements of which England is now composed; and as if this state of things were not sufficiently injurious to her welfare, she has the additional humiliation of feeling that she is wholly at the mercy of a Conservative House of Commons' majority—a set of bastard Tories, devoid of principle, energy, genius, information, con sistency—who have neither faith in themselves nor their countrymen ; whose powers of vision are limited to their own petty interests ; who recant to-day the sacred pledge to humanity which they gave yester day ; who crouch, like beaten hounds, to the very man whom, of all others, they most fear and dis trust ; who rely only on the Chapter of Accidents, and, in compliance with the will of their despotic Chief, take expediency as their sole rule of action ! Never was there an age of such dreary political mediocrity as the present. Our great statesmen have all passed from the stage of life, and have left no suc cessors. Lofty, comprehensive principles of action are out of fashion ; sentiments that might touch the heart of a nation are heard no more in the Senate ; all is vapid, second-rate declamation, and peddling details of business, with which the vast mass of the people have no concern, and in which they take not the slightest interest. To foster the growth of a more generous and enlightened system of p o licy—to substitute sterling principles for shifting expediency, hope for despondency, action for lethargy, things for words, truth for sophistry;—such seems to us to be the leading object of " Young England ;" and though this political confederacy is just now but limited and comparatively uninfluential ; though it may be said to be groping its way in the dark, doubt ful at present of its course, with views not yet suffi ciently.defined, and with perhaps a little too much of the Quixotte in its character ; yet it will most as suredly make its way to the heart of the community, s l ow ly, indeed, but surely, for it is opposed to every thing that is mean, and factious, and selfish in policy, and appeals unhesitatingly to the liberal sympathies of its countrymen, as the illustrious Chatham did — and successfully, too—when he found himself fettered by the ill-concealed dislike of the Court, and the open hostility of the aristocracy. ' But to come back to Coningsby, of which we have too long lost sight. The hero is the grandson of the shrewd, wealthy, profligate Marquis of Monmouth, who had disinherited his father for presuming to marry against his will. Pleased, however, with the spirit and intelligence of the young Coningsby, he adopts, and sends him to Eton, and then to Cam bridge, with the intention of fitting him for public life in the House of Commons, and at his death, of leaving him the bulk of his unentailed property. But all these views are thwarted by the independent spirit of the young man, who, on the Marquis proposing to him to stand for his own borough of Darlford, de clines, on the plea that he cannot approve the party principles which he is called on to support. From that moment his grandfather's favour is w ithdrawn from him, and on his demise, which takes place shortly afterwards, Coningsby finds himself left with nothing but the interest of ten thousand pounds, the bulk of the Marquis's immense estates having been bequeathed to Flora Villebreque, his natural daughter by a French actress. Under these untoward circumstances, our hero resolves to bid adieu to gay life, and to apply himself diligently to the profession of the law ; but before he has time fully to mature his plans, the young heiress Flora dies, and having long loved him, though in secret— for he was almost the only one who had ever shown her kindness in the days of his prosperity— she leaves him her entire fortune. Thus suddenly restored to affluence, Coningsby enters Parliament under the auspices of a wealthy and intelligent mill owner, by name Millbanke, whose daughter Edith he marries ; and at this interesting crisis of his destiny our author takes leave of him, previously, however, assuring his readers that the young statesman—in conjunction with some friends of his youth—will be an ardent supporter of the views and principles of " Young England." From this brief summary, it will be seen that there is not much novelty in the plot of Coningsby ; nevertheless, it is skilfully con structed; events, too, follow on events in rapid but natural sequence ; and the story never halts for an instant. The dialogue throughout is remarkable for point and brilliancy, and reflections are now and then thrown out—apparently without the slightest effort— which will surprise and delight the reader, not less by their depth than their sublety. Mr. D'lsraeli ex cels in the descriptive, but we could have wished that he had been somewhat less gorgeous in his sketches of patrician character, tastes, and luxury, which are far too highly coloured, and are rather more Oriental than English in their tone. Of the personages of his story, the best—because an evident transcript from real life—is the portrait of the shrewd, bustling, but not very scrupulous Tory hack, Rigby—an obscure Irish adventurer, who has contrived to wrig gle himself into the Privy Council, and attach "Right Honourable" to his name, by . dint of his intrepid im pudence, his cringing submission to his aristocratic masters, his tact as a party speaker i n th e H ouse , an d , his " slashing articles" in a certain Tory Quarterly periodical. Of the character of Sidonia, which is evidently a favourite with the author, and on which he has bestowed great pains, we may observe that it is a creation of the fancy rather than a sketch from actual life ; it is, in fact, a magnificent idealism, which none but a poet could have conceived, and which those readers only who are endued with a , lively imagination will be able fully to appreciate. ' We close oar notice of this remarkable tale with a full length portrait of the Right Honourable, Nicholas Rigby : " Mr. Rigby was a Member for one of Lord Monmouth's boroughs. lie was the manager of Lord Monmouth's par liamentary influence, and the auditor of his vast estates. He was more ; he was Lord Monmouth's companion when in England, his correspondent when abroad—hardly his coun sellor, for Lord Monmouth never required advice ; but Mr. Rigby could instruct him in matters of detail, which Mr. Rigby made amusing. Rigby was not a professional man ; indeed his origin, education, early pursuits, and studies, were equally obscure ; but he had contrived in good time to squeeze himself into Parliament, by means which no one could ever comprehend, and then set up to be a perfect man of business. The world took him at his word, for he was bold, acute, and voluble ; with no thought, but a good deal of desultory information ; and though destitute of all ima gination and noble sentiment, was blessed with a vigorous 1 mendacious fancy, fruitful in small expedients, and never happier than when devising shifts for great men's scrapes. They say that all of us have one chance in this life, and so it was with Rigby. After a struggle of many years, after a long series of the usual alternatives of small successes and small failures, after a few cleverish speeches and a good many cleverish pamphlets, with a considerable reputation, indeed, for pasquinades, most of which he never wrote, and articles in reviews to whi c h it was whispered he had contributed, Rigby, who had already intrigued himself into a subordinate office, met with Lord Monmouth. He was just the animal that Lord Mon mouth wanted, for Lord Monmouth always looked upon human nature with the callous eye of a jockey. He surveyed Rigby, and he determined to buy him. He bought him ; with his clear head, his indefatigable industry, his audacious tongue, and his ready and unscrupulous pen ; with all his dates, all his lampoons; all his private memoirs, and all his political intrigues. It was a good purchase. Rigby became a great personage, and Lord Monmouth's man. " Mr. Rigby had a classical retreat, which he esteemed a Tusculum. There, surrounded by his busts and books, he wrote his lampoons and articles ; massacred a she liberal—it was thought that no one could lash a woman like Ribgy— cut up a rising genius whose politics were different from his own., or sacrificed some unhappy wretch who had brought his claims before Parliament, proving by garbled extracts from official correspondence that no one could refer to, that the malcontent, instead of being a victim, was, on the con trary, a defaulter. Tadpole and Taper would back Rigby for a slashing reply' against the field. Here too, at the end of a busy week, he found it occasionally convenient to entertain a clever friend or too of equivocal reputation, with whom he had become acquainted in former days of equal brotherhood. No one was more faithful to his early friends than Mr. Rigby, particularly if they could write a squib. It was in this refined retirement that Mr. Rigby found time enough, snatched from the toils of official life and parliamentary struggles, to compose a letter on the study of History, ad dressed to Coningsby. The style was as much like that of Lord Bolingbroke as if it had been written by the authors of the "Rejected Addresses," and it began, "My dear young friend." This polished composition, so full of good feeling and comprehensive views, and all in the best taste, was not published. It was only privately printed, and a few thou•• sand copies were distributed amongst select personages as an especial favour and mark of high consideration. Each copy given away seemed to Rigby like a certificate of character, a property which, like all men of dubious repute, he tho roughly appreciated. Rigby intrigued very much that the head master of Eton should adopt his discourse as a class book. For this purpose he dined with the Doctor ; told him several anecdoto of the King, which intimated personal influence at Windsor; but the head-master was immovable; and so Mr. Rigby was obliged to be content by his Letter on History being canonized as a classic in the Preparatory Semi nary, where the individual to whom it was addressed was a scholar. " Rigby's ' slashing articles' were things which, had they appeared as anonymous pamphlets, would have obtained the contemptuous reception which, in an intellectual view, no compositions more surely deserved; but, whispered as the productions of one behind the scenes, and appearing in the pages of a party review, they were passed off as genuine coin, and took in great numbers of the lieges, especially in the country. They were written in a style apparently modelled on the briefs of those sharp attorneys who weary advocates with their clever common-place, teasing with ob vious comment and torturing with inevitable inference. The affectation of order in the statement of facts had all the lucid method of an adroit pettifogger. They dealt much in ex tracts from newspapers, quotations from the Annual Register, parallel passages in forgotten speeches, arranged with a for midable array of dates rarely accurate. When the writer was of opinion he had made a point, you may be sure the hit was in italics, that last resource of the Forcible Feebles. lie handled a particular in chronology as if he were proving an alibi at the Criminal Court. The censure was coarse, without being strong ; and vindictive when it would have been sarcastic. Now and then there was a passage which aimed at a higher flight, and nothing can be conceived more unlike genuine feeling, or more offensive to pure taste. And yet perhaps the most ludicrous characteristic of these factious gallimaufreys was an occasional assumption of the high moral and admonitory tone which, when we recurred to the gene ral spirit of the discourse and were apt to recal the character of its writer, irresistibly reminded one of Mrs. Cole and her prayer-book." THELApr London: nt:( N nr E :4C T i V nl7arr C lkepBe U 4,ly4F ß )ta ß .o77 E -Bm N his ay a C s,,,Ep Y Ae aensc ß th ,E lL onB 7 ; 4 t . i.hr._(eer A ßFaj L a irtne after rt te .Ac r T_hor t tau o cib t et h e..;r e We really believe that this is the best of all the Currency pamphlets which have been published since the introduction into Parliament of the Bill of 1819. It is a temperate, plain•speaking, closely-reasoned investigation of the premises assigned, this month, by the Premier himself, as those upon which he founds his new propositions for "regulating" (God help us !) our existing monetary system—for reserving to the Bank of England its charter, on certain conditions— and for carrying out, in all their extent and to their fullest action, the hitherto but half-developed tyranny and mischief of that measure, which twenty-five years ago gave the first shock to our commercial supremacy. It does not seem possible to us that any honest man can arise from the perusal of this little tract without being thoroughly convinced of the absolute mistakes, the portentous blundering, of Sir Robert Peel in the very rudiments of the scheme which he has concocted for maintaining a gold standard of value. But we will not bespeak opinions, still less do we desire—if our own impressions be errors or prejudices—to innocu late others with them. At the same time we will freely admit that if the reasoning arrayed against Sir Robert's " assumptions" by the " Enquirer after Truth" do not amount to demonstrations of the utter fallacy of those assumptions, we are incapable of dis tinguishing between logical deduction and mere un proved hypothesis. The author, after admitting that Sir Robert Peel, in his speech of the 7th instant, did not over-rate the vast importance of the question then submitted to Parliament, asks this pertinent ques tion : " Why should you restrict to a fortnight only the time you permit to be bestowed on a measure affecting inte rests of such extent and magnitude? What time is that for enabling the Members even of the House of Commons to form a competent judgment of so complex and difficult a question as the currency, with its bea r i n g s sin the vari ous classes and interests liable to be compromised by their decision ? If every transaction of business, every domestic arrangement, every contract subsisting or here after to be made, every person in the kingdom from the Prince to the peasant—the most aged to the child unborn —will be affected 6y the decision to which the House may come on this great question—how happens it that you, Sir, should restrict to so brief a term the period allowed for studying your propositions, tracing their probable effects through their multitudinous ramifications, and consulting those numerous classes of persons, those almost innumer able individuals, whose weal or woe depends on the votes which will be given in Parliament ? Ample notice and the fullest information to the people should have been allowed to precede the discussion, and all who apprehend injury should have been invited to state their doubts and fears in petitions, memorials, or remonstrances. I think I may say, with perfect truth, there never was a measure of such universal and intense interest, hitherto so little understood, urged on with such indecent haste, and so little regard to the sentiments of those who may be the sufferers." He then reflects on the tyrannous inconsistency of allowing men no right of private judgment on a ques tion like this—of the management of their own mone tary affairs—on which every individual naturally deems himself the best judge, so far as it regards his own business. He adds— " Your motive may have been only the desire to avoid that avalanche of pamphlets which usually descends when any sudden or extraordinary announcement startles the public ear. You are justly afraid of those who in our day write (as you say) interminable pamphlets on the currency, but never allow us to guess at their meaning.' In this view of the case I have no right to complain." In dealing with Sir Robert's preliminary definition of value, the " Enquirer" quotes the Premier's idea of " the meaning of a pound," on which we have re marked in another part of our paper. The expression of that idea the author correctly quotes from the re port of the debate on the 7th inst., in which Sir Robert concluded that— " The standard of silver up to 1716, was fixed about 1567 ; but in 1717, the value of the guinea was deter mined to be 21s. ; and for a certain period, both gold and silver constituted the standard of value. But in the year 1774 it was enacted that no legal contract should be discharged in silver for any sum of more than 251." Our author remarks that the phrase "subsequent debasements of the currency" conveys a false im pression, when these debasements are said by Sir Ro bert to have made a change in the value of the pound sterling. But this passage we have incorporated else where. Let us add to it this important pendant,-re specting our gold coin : _ " With respect to our gold coin, which began to be minted in the 41 Henry 111. (1257), its proportions were 23 carats 3i grains fine gold to half a grain alloy, till 1 James I. (1604), when 22 carats was the standard with 2 carats alloy; at which standard it remains to this day. Thus, according to history and fact, the earlier Kings of England were, in the mintage of their coins, more remarkable for preserving the purity of the stand ard, than for debasing it." He infers that Sir Robert meant to speak of the diminution of weight, whereby great alteration had been made, not in the name, but m the intrinsic value, of the pound between the reign of the Conqueror and of Elizabeth. But he shows that the admitted fluc tuations of the coined pound of silver, in the same interval, from the number of 20s. to 625. (through other alterations of 20s. 3d., 225. 6d., 255., 305., 37 5 ., Sze.), did not square with Sir Robert's " doctrine con cerning the pound"—that " quantity of the precious metals of certain weight and certain fineness ;" that " certain definite quantity of gold—of the precious metals." " Did you by these expressions mean us to understand that it should consist, at all times, of the same definite quantity of gold or silver—an invariable, as well as a definite, quantity ? If so, your histo rical examples contravene your assertion You must mean, only, that the measure of value bhould be, at that time when it is the measure of value, whenever that may be, of a certain weight and certain fineness." " You next observe, in your brief sketch of our pound sterling, that it was not until a late period of the reign of Elizabeth that silver, boing then the standard of va lue, received that determinate weight, which it retained without variation, with constant refusals to alter it, till 1716.' By these words I understand that the pound sterling, from a late period of the reign of Elizabeth, re mained unchanged in value till the year 1716. But here I must again take leave to doubt the accuracy of your statement. Do you not omit to take into account, when you make this assertion, the difference in the value of silver which was occasioned by the discovery of Ame rica ?" How that proportion came to vary from 10 to 1 to 15 to 1, we have shown in an article which appears in another column. Recurring to the year 1600, our author says, " At the period in question it was esteemed as 11 to 1, and was so repre:rentel in our coins : when, there fore, we desire to compare the value of silver coins for merly, with the value of silver coins now, we must take this relation into account. Or if we choose to disembar rass the question of all calculations of this kind, we may at once compare the weight of our gold pound now, with the weight of that which we had at any former period, and the difference between the two will show us the value of the silver pound as well as of the gold pound. You will find in Harris (Essay upon Money and Coins, Part 11., p. 2), that the proportion of fine ;jiver to fine gold in the coinage of 1601, to which you allude, was as 10.905 to I, and in Ruding, that while the proportion was as above exhibited (or, as he expresses it, 1 to 10 56-59), the gold pound, called the sovereign, worth 205., was coined of the weight of 171 grains. Now, if our present sovereign contains 123 grains, and that of Eliz. in 1601 contained 171 grains, it follows that her pound sterling was worth 275. 9d. of our present coin. Admitting, therefore, that the silver coin of Eliz. was the measure of value, and the legal tender of that day, it is evident that as the value of 20s. was equal to the sove reign of 171 grains, the value of the silver pound of that I period was also of the value of 275. 91 of our present coin. For more than thirty-nine years before this change was made, that is, from the 4th of Eliz. to her 43d year (1558 to 1601), the pound of silver was coined into 605., and the gold sovereign, worth 205., was of the weight of 174 grains; both pounds, therefore, were then worth 28s. 3d. of our present coin." So much for the "certain definite quantity of the Precious metals"—of certain weight and fineness—of cur " pound" sterling. This exposure of Sir Ro bert's gros:ily uninstructed brief—upon which he has ventured to move the Commons of England to adopt his mischievous, rash, and ill-considered experiments on the currency, ought surely "to put him out of court," at the tribunal of public opinion, in any case where the interests of domestic industry and com merce are concerned. The " Enquirer" then gives Sir Robert that severe castigation touching his " erroneous assumptions about the antiquity and uniformity of the measure of value," which we have quoted elsewhere. From the same point we shall take our second and con cluding notice of this remarkable pamphlet. THE THREE KINGDOMS. 2 Vols. Bentley, London, 1844. In these volumes we have en account of the Viscount D'Arlincourt's travels through England, Scotland, and Ireland. The work is penned in a slight end superficial spirit, but it is not, on the whole, un amusing, for the author never dwells too long and wearisomely on any one topic, but hurries from sub ject to subject with the velocity of a bird of passage. The most entertaining portion of his volumes is that which refers to Scotland, whose varied scenery, toge ther with the impression it made on him, he describes with infinite relish, and gives a lively account of a day or two he passed at Eglinton Castle, and of his visit to the far-famed and romantic island of Staffa. THE GOVERNESS. a Knight, London, 1844. There are many sensible reflections in this vnas suming little duodecimo on the important subject of female education, and the duties of governesses. Can we safely assert," asks the author, " that woman is more informed, more excellent, more adapted to the duties peculiar to her station and her sex, than in the days of our mothers—that she is more exempt from the failings of her sex, or less liable to their errors? If the answer is even doubtful, the work of education is still imperfectly understood." There is no doubt that, even in the present improved age, the work of female education is not so well un derstood as could be wished; still there is no denying the fact that it has made great progress within the last ten or twenty years, and that women are now infi nitely better and more carefully instructed than they were in the days of their immediate predeces sors. Not only are they more accom plished, but the knowledge they acquire is of a sounder and more practical character, and they are now, in an immense number of instances, qualified to take part in conversations which would have been wholly unintelligible to their mothers. Formerly, if they could sing a little—play a little—dance a little, and paint a few extraordinary flowers on card-hoard, they were considered to be perfect in all that it was necessary they should know ; but this is the case no longer; more, much more is expected from them ; and it is doing them no more than justice to say that in very many cases they fulfil all the increased ex pectations of society, and are yearly approximating nearer to man, in point of equality of intellect. The author of the little volume before us points out some of the more obvious deficiencies that still exist in the present system of female education ; and his remarks are deserving of consideration, for they are apparently the result of an extensive practical acquaintance with the subject. UNGRATEFUL TREATMENT. The ladies, who unquestionably were the very best props of the . Non-Intrusion cause— w h o ran a b out w i th the Sustentation lists, and chalked the very doors with a cross if they did not succeed in getting the counten ance or aid of the inmates,—the Free Church ladies, who, for so doing, were coaxed and flattered by Mr. Maitland Macgill Crichton of Rankeilor, and others of the lay and clerical leaders, including Monzie, Mr. Fox Maule, and Mr. Begg, of Libberton, &c.,—and who were solemnly assured that their right to vote in the election of Free Church ministers and elders, or other officers, would be duly considered and fa vour bly entertained, if not absolutely recognised in the Free Assembly, which sat in Glasgow last autumn; but which right to vote was then postponed till the next meeting of the Free Assembly, now sitting in Edinburgh —these ladies are doomed, we fear, to another disap pointment at the hands of the Free, because we look in vain for any, the least notice, yet taken of them in this Free Assembly. Can this be possible ? Can it be pos sible that the leaders are now turning their backs upon the ladies, and leaving them where they found them, minus the moneys ? It will be exceedingly ungrateful, besides ungallant and treacherous, if this be so. We are aware that the Free House is very mush divided on the subject, but that is no reason why the promised vote should not be taken one way or other. We beg pardon of the ladies for attending to their claims. We could not offend them,—we love them too well for that,—and it is because we wish to see them fairly and honourably treated, without any flirtation in the case, from laymen or ecclesiastics, that we have presumed to throw out these gentle observations.— Scotch Reformers' Gazette. Lord Morpeth arrived at Naworth Castle, from Castle Howard, on Wednesday afternoon, to see the ravages which the fire had made on the stronghold of his great Pleestor.—Carlide Journal. EARL GREY.—We grieve to state that the vener able Earl is again suffering under severe illness, and several members of the family have, in consequence, arrived at llowick.—Newcastle Chronicle. Mr. Charles Dickens is about to leave England for a twelvemonths' residence abroad. We believe he ;n -tends to remain principally at Genoa. The Cheviots and other high grounds to the north and west have been, drying the present week, well capped with snow.—Nctecastle Journal. THE REV. MR. WOLFF'S MISSION TO BOKIIARA.— We have the gratification of announcing that intelligence has reached us , by the way of Trebizond and Malta, of the safe arrival of this intrepid traveller at Meshed, from which place he was to have taken his departure on the 21st of March, under the escort to be furnished him by the Gover nor. The most perilous part of the journey, extending over a space of 300 miles, was vet before him ; but he appeared fully confident that, under Divine Providence, he should suc ceed in accomplishing the same. No freSh intelligence had been collected touching the objects of his search, whose fat e continued still a matter of mystery. The contradictions in the accounts lead rather to a hope that they will be found alive, though perhaps the captives of the despotic and tyran nical Ameer. LORD BROUGIIAM. — The malice of the Post never was more apparent, perhaps, than in charging Lord Brougham, on Saturday, with love of gain, because he raised the retiring pension of all Chancellors a thousand a year, in 1931. It is perfectly notorious that this was the measure of the colleagues of Lord Brougham, in which he never interfered in any way whatever ; and principally, that it was a compensation for the loss of 12 large sinecure places abolished by Lord Brougham that year, one of which was nearly 8,000/. a year, and all of which had been treated as private property by the Lord Chancellors, his predecessors, and made the subject of family settlements on the marriage of their daughters. But the grossest part of this misrepresentation of the Post is, the total omission of the consideration that two of these sinecures, worth 3,500/. a year, were actually vacant at the time, and might, before Lord Brougham's Bill, have been filled up with young lives in his family, as they had been by Lord Eldon.—Aforning Herald. SCOTT MONDIIENT.—The Earl of Weymss has li berally transmitted 20/., and Mr. Paterson the banker has remitted 15/., collected on his schedule in Dalkeith. Upwards of 2,0001. have been contributed by the public since the meeting, three months ago, at the Music Hall ; the deficit, therefore, does not now amount to 1,0001., and as subscription lists still lie at the banks, club-houses, and at the Royal Institution, the admirers of the genius of our illustrious countryman, now in Edinburgh, who have not yet contributed, have still an opportunity af forded them of assisting in completing this national monument to his memory.—Scotsman. THE ~ FREE " ASSEMBLY. Up till the period at which we write, we have no account from the "Free " Assembly of the introduc tion of any of the great questions which the public look forward to as the test-stones of the policy of the new Secession. There has been, as formerly, a great deal of talk about minor details, and much self-glo rification ; but nothing definite has been proposed, either in the shape of a constitution, or in regard to the management and division of the funds. It would appear to be the intention of Dr. Candlish and the other leaders to stave off, as they did in the first two Assemblies, all discussion of these important points, till the withdrawal of general attention from their proceedings enables them to secure a settlement fully in accordance with their own priestly notions. At all events, six days have been already spent in such a way as gives strong probability to this supposition. For another year, the members of the Free Church will be left in the dark as to the respective powers of the laity and the clergy—they will get no satisfac tion about the extent of their suffrage—whether it is to include females, or be restricted to males ; nor will they know whether their Church Courts have re served to themselves more power than is conferred on the Church Courts of the Establishment, even by Lord Aberdeen's Bill. As to money matters, beyond earnest injunctions t o k ee p p er p e t ua lly pouring into the treasury, they will be told little or nothing. But this, though it may disappoint, will not offend them. Faith in the clergy is more blind, indulgent, and con fiding, than any other faith whatever. Two of the minor questions enumerated above as having come under discussion, are worthy of some notice, as indicating the intolerant character of the Free Assembly, and the selfish instinct with which it acts on the lawyer's principle of " the case being al tered, that alters the case." All the speeches in which Unitarianism is mentioned breathe the fiery spirit of persecution, and the very men who are complaining of their own places of worship being taken from them, are indignant at the Legislature for interfering to pre vent a much grosser injustice of the same kind. The members of the Free Church think it hard that the quoad-sacra chapels, towards the erection of which they were the chief contributors, should be withheld from them; but they have no hesitation in calling upon the Legislature to permit a few indivi duals to deprive numerous congregations in England of the property which they have held for years,_ which was left to them by their forefathers, and which they had every reason to believe was indisputably their own. A number of the English chapels, no doubt, might originally be intended for the use of Trinitarianism ; but, in the course of time, like other ecclesiastical muniments, they have fallen into the hands of a sect professing a different creed. This sect being numerous, and being the de scendants of the parties for whose use the chapels were built, is there any harm in so altering the law, that they may make the bequest really available for religious purposes, although not exactly according to the form or profession that prevailed when the be quests were made ? If there is—then as we said last week, the whole Reformation in England, Scotland, and Ireland, was a grievous wrong. Henry the Eighth - and Regent Murray committed foul injustice, and Latimer and John Knox were the instigators and abettors of robbery. When it suits themselves, the members of the Free Assembly are not scrupulous in insisting that Church property shall be held only in strict accordance with the deeds by which it has been created. It was on the very same day on which they petitioned against the Dissenters' Chapel Bill, that they pro tested loudly against the retention of the quoad-sacra places of worship by the Establishment. None know better than they—for they framed most of the constitutions under which these chapels exist—that they 'are strictly tied down to a per petual connexion with the Establishment. Now, if the Legislature, in its wisdom, were engaged in de vising some plan whereby such of these chapels as are useless to the Establishment, and of which the Free Church has need, should be handed over quietly to the new secession, what would they think of any sect of Unitarians who should come forward and petition against the measure ? Yet this is just what they are doing to the Unitarians.—Aberdeen Herald. SINGULAR CASE OF ABDUCTION. On Friday a young man, named Thomas Robins, dressed as a farmer's labourer, was brought before Mr. Baillie, the sitting magistrate, at New Brentford, in the custody of the police, on a charge of having stolen a quantity of wearing apparel, consisting of various silk dresses, shawls, bodl linen, &c., with a number of books, the property of Mr. G. Willavyse, an extensive farmer near Newbury, Berks, from whose employ he had absconded on the 7th inst. Mr. Willavyse stated that he had known the prisoner from his childhood, his father and mother, and other members of his family, having been for years in his employ. During the last five or six years the prisoner had also worked for him occasionally, and at Michaelmas last he hired him as a yearly farm servant, at nine shillings a week, and lodging, &c. The prisoner gave every satisfaction until the night of the 7th inst., when he absconded with his (witness's) daughter, who was only fifteen years old, taking with them the articles in question. He did not discover the abduction until the next morning, when he galloped to Reading in pursuit, thinking • they would probably have gone by the Great Western Rail way to the metropolis. At Reading he could learn no trace of them, and he consequently returned home. The next day, believing them to be in London, he went to town, and applied to the Commissioners of Police on the subject, but, after the lapse of a week, he again returned home. On the previous day, however, lie received a letter from Mr. Green way, the landlord of the Drum public-house, Old Brentford, inquiring if any member of his family had improperly left home, as a young man and a young woman, who had every appearance of being respectably connected, had been lodging for a week at his house. Witness instantly started for Brentford, having first obtained a warrant for the prisoner'. apprehension. On arriving at Brentford, he ascertained that they had taken lodging at the house of a shoemaker in the town. having procured the assistance of police-constable Smith, T 92, he went to the house, where he found both his daughter and the prisoner, the latter of whom he imme diately gave into custody on a charge of felony. By Mr. BAILLIE—The value of the articles was consi- ; derable, as his daughter had removed the whole of her ward robe, with all her books, including her Bible and Prayer- . book. Until he discovered their absence, he was not aware of there being the slightest intimacy between his daughter and the prisoner. The prisoner, in answer to the charge, declared all that had taken place between him and Miss Willavyse had bean , with her own free consent. Miss Jane Willavyse was then called in. She was a fine- r looking girl, about five feet four inches high, of considerable embonpoint, and about fifteen years of age. She gave her evi- - dence with reluctance. It was elicited from her that, having consented to elope with the prisoner, she had at midnight. on . the night of Tuesday, quitted her father's house by means of her bedchamber window, and descended by a ladder, which - had been placed for her by the prisoner, taking with her, of i her own accord, the property the prisoner was accused of stealing. They started on foot to Maidenhead, where they , arrived in the early part of the morning, and restod them selves. They then found that neither of them was in pos session of a farthing of money, and they were compelled to • pledge some of her clothes to procure refreshment. Being fearful of discovery at Maidenhead, they returned to Brent- • ford, walking all the way, upwards of twenty miles, and took a lodging at the Drum, as has been stated. While at Brent ford, they supported themselves by pledging various articles, but the prisoner had got a situation to go to on Monday, as a farm servant, at nine shillings a week, at a farmer's in the neighbourhood of Brentford. Mr. BAILLIE said, after the evidence of Miss IVillavyse, the charge of felony could not be sustained; and he sug- r gested to Mr. Willavyse the propriety, as his daughter was , so young, and matters had gone so far, of arranging the affair. Mr. Willavyse refused to adopt the suggession, and de clared his determination to prosecute the prisoner for the ab duction, his daughter being under sixteenyears of age, which made his carrying her off a felony. Mr. BAILLIE said, under those circumstances, he had no alternative but to send the prisoner before a Berkshire ma gistrate to deal with the case. The prisoner was accordingly conveyed, on Friday night, by poli ce - con stable Smith, to Newbury, and on Saturday morning he was taken before a magistrate of Berks, where the charge of abduction was preferred against him. After the examination of several witnesses, he was remanded for the production of other evidence on Friday next, and was afterwards conveyed to Reading gaol. The Right Rev. James Bowstead, Lord Bishop of' Lichfield, having died intestate, letters of administration of his estate have been granted by the Prerogative Court of Can terbury to Joseph Bowstead, Esq., brother and next of kin. The deceased's residence was Eccleshall Hall, Stafford; but. ho died at Clifton, near Bristol. The administrator has sworn. the personal estate to be under 10,000/. BRIGHTON, MAY 2G.—lt is said to be in contem plation to add a new wing to the Pavilion, for the pur pose of obtaining a better view of the sea. Yesterday a gentleman from the office of Woods and Forests was engaged in measuring the ground for the site of the pro posed w ing. The Conservative members of the House of Com mons propose to entertain the new Secretary of War, Sir Thomas Frecmentle, at dinner, after the recess, as a. mark of the high estimation in which his courtesy, frank— ness, and obliging d;sposition are held by them. _ A letter from Leipsic, May 16, says :—" Dr. Flemming, an eminent,veterinary -surgeon, end Director of the Vetei.nary School at Rosenthal, has just died here of hydrophobia, after 24 hours of frightful suffer;ng. M. Flemming had never been bitten by any enimal affected with madness, but about three years back he dissected a dog which had died mad. This fact proves what a. length of time the rabietic virvs may remrin latent in. the human body." HUMAN GLORY.—The Roman Forum is now a cow market, the Tarpeian Rock is a cabbage garden, and tke Palace of the Cxsars a rope walk. A VENERABLE AND RESPECTED GOOSE.—We think the follow:mg is worthy of note, to show our Devonian. friends how honourable old ago is esteemed in Somer.- set:—There is now in the possession of Mr. Henry Brake, of Closworthy, Somerset, a goose in the 37th. year of her age, v ith young by her side.— Western Times. " DOG EAT DOG. "— Nearly all the Nisi Prius cases this term were cases in which attorneys were either plaintiffs or defendants.—Dubin Paper. MESMERIC PROPIIECY.—We are informed that a patient, while under the mesmeric influence the other day, was asked what would be the result of the South Lancashire election ? His reply was, that Mr. Brown► would be returned. When asked by what majority? hat replied, " By about twenty."—Manchester Guardian. ~_ 1 I