The Sun. — London, England, 1850-01-28 00:00:00

L LO v D'H I S SH IPPING —(THIS L AY. ) N, JAN. 28 —Wind at noon S.S.W., fresh gale, shd iqu.,lly and cull, lit avy weather. C "''• B , JAN. 27.—WiLd S.—Arial. Bolivar, Ang°E tura ' r,PALtiouTfr, JAN. 2 7.—Wind F."t.F.—Arrd. Adolph, ' l ' 4 ? Nuilt F, rdinando Tarato, trees Liverp )01; (laid °!! l ' ] tint Buenos Ayre', for Bristol; Parpti t de la Pitta, c h t). OllPirr, Gypsy, East Indies. 4 7 4 13 N 1 -: )l ' l‘.. ) s il,:li i : T i a j : e k :;: t i , 2 1;. 7 2 - e r j ' , 1 ,1, .. 1 ,. , ?:. N - 4. r ii i . d r ..Z us icn it ,. l Mauritius. 27.—Th e Mathilda, which took fire tl•at reutt'ed ' has b een ra i se d ; t h e fi re d id much data a , P. • Lviar...--Arrd. Magellan, Chi na; Tib er , T r i n id a d. M. Christian and Fall Unit e d States Y, Jamaica; J •' ' • Granville, Bo,r, . o d6 l‘ll ,, LF ° ll n, JAN. 2 7.—The Hirondelle, which was aban "n(4, 9'll inst., aft( r being in contact with the Talbot °steamer, was fallen in with 24th inst., 30 miles W. of the 108, totally dismasted and wat rlogged. L ._ 4rAs'r, JAN. U.—The Argent, of Portaferry, is on rock a': Strangford Eolith. 13 LIERPOoI, JAN °7.—Wind S.S.F.—Arrd. Eliza P i m "in, Fte%''ley, liio -, ia , leirit; Emma, Graham, Bahia; ni— eu r t e t ': . ' N e e'defou'ridi an i. 'Re Reginald H,b.r and Palatine, g o ! outitess of F ''. 6 d It . CL:.l l a/p Mary e 1,011 an -mac, , , I) Th ell o t B cots, Macao and Pernambuco; Theodosi , a, h e e l.' n r ara ; Whitchaven, Jacrnel ; Brazil Packet, St. 1 0 , 131- i r ; .Culoniq, Savannah ; Isaac , Crowell, Charles- Yor'l t r '''" l 'hn, Grenada. Sld. Europa steamer, New s.. ; Lord Ashburton Adelaide, South Australia ; P!'lt B ' Neves ; Julia y Pepita, ift t ,„„' , tlenoi Ayres ; Era, "' h art ; Thetis and Aberdeen, New York. Off Port, Anne Melhuish. A boat marked Charles, cf tVebam, has been picked up in the Channel. f am, JAN• " —The Matthews brig, of and ctf°ll4, (41.,ntdoerrall an d , ' w . ta was driven . on shore yest2rday, during , and fills with the tide, and the Violet, ~Ta Port, lies on the Brushwork. in 4514,5, JAN. 27.—1 t blow a heavy gale last even 4t, The Betsy, of Lynn, has been wrecked, and the d th_ovourne sioop, Wakefield to London, is on ahcre, an 'towing cargo overboard. to N , wEsroFT, JAN o 7 —lt blew a violent gale from N. .„(i.,,,,‘y• yesterda . y " , With a very heavy sea. The Ann k,si,;.ntia, the Norham Castle, and the Hole, have been li. fed in disabled, having all been iu contact. bead AltWoltrra, JAN. 27.--Tbe Rival, of Wisheaoh, has h jeeassisted in with damage, from contact with t e ; te! of London. mouth $h JAN. 2 7.—The Anna Maria, of and from tiort? Shield& to London, was in contact yesterday lim nin g , off Southwold, with the Ban Nevis barque, witt!hrilt about noon; crew (except one man) ~'E t vfo of the crew of the latter. drowned, N.P j ir 41 '1 JAN. 27.--It blew a severe gale, from tou t i n t h ° 1 ' 1. N.E., with heavy squalls.—The Joseph flow, f b 0,„, - to Liverpool, got in contact, and proceeded the Lae` with damage. The barque supposed to be . c onta ct liatharine Barham, London to Jamaica, was in Pro ce a e e , i t with the Naomi, London to China, and Arrd . ' A tt i to Portsmouth to repair damages. 144 0. -11 1. 4 I LI", Calcutta; Royal Shepherdess, Co , Alb ert ~,...4 en. Callao; Challenger, Demerara; Pri n cert lis,phi,i,lBi.p: ce,oedw.riYngork. Sid. Countess of Yarmouth,. Po ton, Antigua; Sir John Rae Reid, St. ° eat i L t ad Y li- B arharn,Jamaicat Ivanhoe, Cubs, and the iie,:s beentward bound. Arrd. Lady Amherst, Sydney, Atn a °ll til Wales; Mohawk, China; Mary Shepherd . and eclu9h, Caleutta• Enterprise, Singapore; Vigilant, N a l in k bc t Eliza' Trinidad ; Montreal, Charleston; eles t4—a go, St Joihn's, New Brunswick; Adolph Van bro s r , 4ll ' Batavia for Amsterdam ; Rockliffe, Calcutta; 'ail ed ' iluenos Ayres. Arrd. from the River and . tol4 t : Qtliver, Azores; Sarah Lambs, Buenos Ayres, ''t_4'.lc 1,,' 6 ,.. ; ,V i n c9n t. Sld. Switzerland, New York; . 0 n ,,, Calcutta; "41nutta; Harry, Mauritius; London, Sierra „ ile/i;'P°llo,Grer Ilia; Unicorn, St Vincent. ,'Mtiti n , 'Pr, JAN. 27.—The Ohio, Newcastle damage, C -4ftvii, beef has been assisted in with some little Sr,,, e en on the Shipwash Sand. Co ttle "SA, JAN. 9 7 —The wreck if a large vessel hes 04 she at Oxay . ert Bay. IVA RKET NEWS. -(THIS DAY.)- 1'(:•43,,1tN EXCHANGE —MONDAY• ktrii,:c °4r even coasts as well as by land carri k a e g t e, the last !ett, I of all articles ' of grain up to our market ar nd Scot '3od *were 514411. The receipts from Ireland let, f:4 confine amounted a few parcel? of Oa te s r . s of a T_he im ,2)020 ci9ln abroad to I 0,'3e8 guar_ 31 7 ditto of 'lean, dill of Berley, 25 ditto of Oats , 2, Wheat, 974 litt "10 ditt f T 140 ditto of Rapeseed, Fie oof 0 0 area, 14. B,lladry seeds 5 266 sacks and 6,435 barrels o Iletre. f or he previnei'al ' markets held on Saturda h y e w su e p re . Alies'o Wheat, at drooping prices, Corn ,30d Flour Offer were but modera'e. . although .n t In Spring A g steady 441.1 4, ‘°tir, next to nothing was doing, t heh t e -3 ; aPPears to have been transacted andin ; l ig t ie ' I ; th, Baltic ports. In Francoe pirtfeldli-t)lo,!ger L quantities i, n o d f s eFnloEurngliasrhe account. tt is . ll ~,,, , e , ilt . . e morning'schanged , a der eB l , eo e ..o ;el! market, the supply of Wheat pate 'heolatvvlee, from Essex and Kent, was very mo- Suffolk, t tlbt i i,' ll t of full average quality. From were un 31tek,'"geshire, &c. the receipts of that grain supply 34 C16,7.'3011. By la ' nd carriage and sample the ds were I,atil,-,"lng• N otwithstanding that . the -tr ' l lle e j stlPPlied, the demand fir all kinds c s t ta lr ri Vh . eat th o e f tla4 0.()(Ince ruledexcessively 4317. 1, 4 tho r ,, , , NI, °Wattled on this day se n. at a fall in t ' night of nom Is o a :tate,4ooarter, At the close of business several . rcel i i l l et,tchinsold. Very few millers were in attendance, tki ~-bever recoil t to have seen so few bakers pur '4 lti tle e kur 0 " • Monday. The heaviness te e ' trade n any previous . , s " of f e must be wholly attributed to thenew Flour p s i' I I : iv ' tl:(:,1)..t •orq,eikog, or rather . hawking, French large. 111+11111 3reige:levaeu s a t nt li it e y w o e n re show to-day was not to tolerably well, 11:"heetQrEtivr,,i1Y, supplied. In many instances—such but was th e "'° heaviness in the trade—prices • e the same but when i•lea took ..place,. 14e iootation as last week; ruled nomi wArteepolbar: gwve way fully is per quarter, at which .e'lers. - No transaltlons f anxious •- es 1 141 4 iNqted i ii 7f re 404 ..,,k, B i_ nwt . leg ca h rgo , hence the waware- o eies, 4Zootirtaititen. hasbeen la e rided in privatkit de tarley wag the supplytv y i dl afmabulb the English trade with and tlVll:l.4'edreiPtitii,,(l_4_"vas..s heavy, at a fall in value of is per q . 1i..45, theJ.,.bunoderate quant!ty of Malt on show; never leerYive,,,,..ueneand. for both immediate and forward de- Pe'4ere ;:!_r_ylr,itettyie at barely the late decline in value. with all kinds of Oats. b_q,a I,ltp.fe.Y3 scantily supplied tl e p ttului were mostly held ' late currencies. He avy Pe rch. otaervvise out of condition a ' kinds were lower supply, and 41". Beans were in full average ie!re blat,and., at barely station i l se White Peas k 4 e r e e ely 8 ,:„ ,_ l . a s. Per quarter lower. In Indian Corn and lee l s it other kinds 04114 here ' °uiness was transacted. lvt +kid 14 0 ona inal. Th e d emand for Flour ruled very , c tr at d N escri ptions were offering on lower terms. *41,1: ItkECY PER IMPERIAL MEABURE• 56 , to 58 5 it:aex & Kent VEIL alt—Chevalier • • .. .. 1) (, 14 hi ' t ' 5 :,; ,,, " '378 to 448 eats Yorkshire and rr oik atm Lin. 40s 48s i' L ro in t e a o to lush., Fed. 14 16, 17s 22i 11/rlit4t.olZilltt ed... .. 35, 39„ y o Lig , h al :nd .. C . 0 . r . k . , 138 15, e bitt'' 4e4.!.:"- 288 438 Cork, White .- • • 148 168 h,„ . o, wh it _ : ••• • • 378 418 t. 01,1 .... e ..... 408 43s Scotch, Feed. .• .• .• .• lgs 224 248 30. 46.,i'1t.. •' '•" • • 248 258 Beans—Tick s .•• • • ~k11ttir,14(111;5....... 2 1, 45 , 2251: Peas—Grey .• : : 2 2 4,8 " 34: 1 / 4 4 1t_ h r ,'Va n li e ; •• '•• • • 23s 258 Maple .••••• • • • • • 2 5 :: 284 - Nfr„ i i •• •• ••• 258 208 white. •••' ' • • • .... 276 Ai , f olk., 4,1 (1 Nor- Boilers •••• • • • i ' .'v4 ••• ••••' " • • 538 t,OB Flour—Town-made ::: ;;,,,,,, 1:: .I,,,„,„;riivi,.re ~i) !, s , 5 4;7 . : 1 ,c t o Suffolk ck tn . i . N - o . rfolk 30, 33e 1 . 1 ) , d tt i l ' • -":1•14 fiSCanary ,zse(ilisEeliKceedingly heavy, 1 1 1 ‘,011841!a° in the quotations of filly 2s per quarter. 1 11 ") . . l' r hel d at pigivioui rates, with but moderato TI,,111'17; 041.k4e(a)tv17 Seeds exceedingly little business is )filaltte'Zit.'4l Der bu.srhy. 4110Uiti; lug t irt , B4 l l , te llro w e ri ' l .... •.. I i t ! ) : iillol,.e'v IN.'l.e.t.e.rllis 5 1;'•1 it h ' ' .3. . ger: n . .• ••• ' • • 48 4 5 se ' eis, tr,,,.. aearter ~ 73,82 t WIllt"E4ell (c'f;t.) 230' 24' ..or(;1:.., ••,•:1• .... • 3:: :8 trefon 1‘17}••," •44: .., ..,... 414. . • • 32s 47s 0 .ist...._ 4, ...• Its 17s, ALL. I 'r will * t Wtl I.ti 'itz") LEADENE . kinel meat ku.t,tie,4 °lrinl'; lintnense arrivals ef comer . ) - R, 4 ‘ , oe ,nd ;Kula last week (18,500 carcases, , ' chiefly :, 1 d „ `) ;k), and the change in the weather,.the ~,,,. i„, z ,-,... E., ru,m extremely °tier kii,""wnward t endency, The supplies e . of M t at heavy, and prices "el i e but moderate. 0 Le Enotropolts have be en li ttril At Per stove by the Carcase. •'•••• rtr,ittlor...... 1 .• cl• to 8. d. a. d. to s. d, "•,.. 011 ' 4, 111, 1a .. . 6 2 8 2 10 2 8 i Mutton, inferior •• -. 8 3 2 pri,,,r4,larg, •'' ! 10 a o riddling.. •4 3 6 '''.o%rnall •; 2 3 4 prime ••••, 3 8 3 4 1)• •' •• • ..... *.: • 4 3 6 Pork, 1 arge ••••• • • • j , 6 4 2 4 3 0 4 0 -- small - •••• '• - hit t) I,lng leat w S,NIZTIIPZELD. i te -...yfdoe .were eeK the twat imports of foreign . stock 8 8nus e reed in, t ° lily 1,077 head. At the corn . sporel- Pro. w " ( .1 i „ '449 we received 854, told during the . e reel - 184 8 Should the weather aesein k , e 44, , , 407 head. g i lt' , °nth! “irge supplies will reach us in the Frer,, -4'oltr ustee d . Ile a ,P 5 L ONDON IN THE PAST WEEK. ellw.. ..... .....8* Sheep. Lambs. Calves. Pigs Vii!, ee 231 ... ... 160 I lerii r ) ... i f ' s ' ... _ ... 9 ... llRen„ '6 ... 65 ... 396 ... -- Tet 1 ... Ce r , 41 ...... *••••-... •' • 49 .. ......._ Iteql.')rldin,. 231 ... 676 ... _ ... 170 .. -- me ` 899`' . , ~ A 184 1 " alt et 149 i .. ;11 the, .'"'• 120 , NI. Nether, . 211 .. , ••• 76 , 4 r04, ,4t s oe tports the arrivals nave toe ei very eele,„ uPOrtritity,han,Ploll 110 Oxen have been landed of ,- te e t- dey 8 .. 35 Oxen have ''')rei "oltld ..i. ( a, from Ireland, twt , „, g 4 8t() ,uirect for this market. The supply (114;4V e,,, ?I' h e for t '• - day —amongst which were fr's h k 4nti illiff,r.;)iln SPain—wa,l very small, autd. I.;ifemasilds iheie up fro to 0 9r quality. The n cel P ts . ' the °I ' d i l t !' ' 1)111 at 11" own grazinz districts were r I of in I N T 1( r), (, . e ast a moiety of them were greatly out , iqeervee4t,44wuto„,g‘to the large supply of Meat attendance .e N iel s th,B triur_4t to intirkees, the ~ .e 11,106,(:)(tek„, 111 ''g was limited ; hence the Bea-trad rigta,;`l"tis h;cilY_lllactive, and, in some instances, the le, f for th e e. downward tendency. The topmost t ejyt elt, suffoitrimest Scots was 4s. per Blbs. From I\iertll " kilt 1 ,',„,Easex, and Cambridgeshire we re met 44 di str .' : ' Scots and Short -horns ; from the . °Rlarld, 704,t,ir..550 Short-horns; and from other parts olietwithstu_tir. ef eels, Bunts, Devcus, Irish Beasts, N.y',,tbe deaatjaucicli,ng the !lumbers of Sheep were again diite,.",oll state anti so that description of stock was in a e'rt4u3, oi l ,:si""oine of the inferior breeds sold with Q.,, . t riot...! er terrn,. The rimest old Downs were '5 W . *l"'ztl at 4 3 to eP ii,,, Lre ua 0 . 4 . _. 4s l e per Blbs. Scarcely any e itt earei t ,'2:: l i. neverthess the sale fur them was 4 *Ltitlterlary priceS. In Pigs, the supply Jarrawsy ••••••• • • • .. 30s 34s Coriander • • ... • •• • • 16s 2ls Ilernpseed, per quarter 32s 35s Linseed, Eng, 4 owing.. 545 56s Crushing •.• . • ... 403 43, Baltic •• .. 35s 44 , Odessa .......... 42$ 46s I [Aimed Cake, pr.l,ooo— English ...• .81 58 9i 5, Foreign, per ton 6/ Os 71 10s Rape Cakes, pr ton 4/ Os 41 la Rapeseed, :Sew, prlst 30/ Os 331 OE ••• 616 ••• - ••• 79 ... _. 1846. stock this day ...... j 22,426 Price of Y. C. .... 42s 3d { to 42s 6d Delivery last week .. 1,385 Ditto from June 1.... 68,402 Arrivals last week .1 178 Ditto from June 1 ... 76,b40 I ['rice of Town ...• ..; 43s Gd 1847. 1 1848. 15,159 16,330 518 3d 478 6d to Os Od to 478 9d 1,811 3,221 63,780 73,580 552 68,676 81,809 1849. 1850. 36,867 i 42,145 401 0(1 to 39s od 40s 6d do3Ss Gd 1,906 2,363 78,030 65,8M8 851 2,066 59,385 82,560 53s Od 52s Od 4is Od I 4ls Od BOW-STR.EET.-(THIS DAY.) A respectably-attired man, named Callighan, was charged with creating a disturbance in the public streets, and assaulting the police in the execution of their duty. Police-constable F 61 stated that, between one and two o'clock on Sunday morning, he was on duty in Drury-lane, when he hcard a noise in Short's•gardens, and on going there he found a mob assemblel, and the prisoner knocking violently at No. 6. The landlord of the house rEfased to let him in, and the prisoner then deliberately put his fist through one of the panes of glass in the window of the house. The constable now thought it high time to put a stop to his proceedings, and tried to induce him to go quietly away to the station. Instead of doing so, however, ho became very abusive, kicking the officer in the privat e p ar t o f hi s b o d y severa l times, and the upshot was that the officer had to pro cure assistance and forcibly remove him. At the station the prisoner threatened to put a ballet through the officer's head when he got out again. Mr. HALL—What are you, prisoner? Prisoner—l am a butcher. Mr. HALL --Well, what have you to say to the charge? Prisoner—Why, the policeman treated me shamefully, and the people in the house destroyed a suit of clothes of mine worth 51. Mr. HALL—But tbat would be no justification for your breaking the glass or kicking the officer in this brutal manner. Prisoner—Well, I admit I was drunk and excited. Mr. HALL—You are liable to be imprisoned for a month, but, bogeying that you were not sufficiently conscious to know what you were doing when you as saulted the officer, I shalt commit you for fourteen days only. The prisoner was then removed. A STIR IN THE NEWS 'CHANGE, CATHERINE STREET.—A respcetibl3 -attired man was charged be fore Mr. Henry under the following circurnqlnces : Police-constable F 109 Osposed that he we.; on his I est in Catherine-street on Saturday last, about five o'clock in the aft?rnoon, when his progress was inter rupts 1 by the mob of boys and mew who congregate on the right hand bide of the street, for the purpose of ex cLagging the one with the other any newspapers they may have left. The boys always go off the pavement when they see him, but some of the adults refuse. On Saturday afternoon the prisoner was one of these, and on the constable expostulating with him, he positively refused to go off, when the ethers who bad gone into the road returned to the pavement, and seemed deter mined to remain there. Tho sergean tale° spoke t , ) the prisoner, but he resolutely refused to go off the pave. ment. They we re consequently obliged to take him into custody. The general pedestrians were forced t) walk in the road, the pavement being quite blocked up by the newsmen end boye. Mr. HENRY said that it was an intolerable nuisance both tj the inhabitants and those who had occasion to pass through Catherine. street in the afternoon. The prisoner said he did not refuse to go off. Mr. HENRY remarked that he was astonished a man of his age should be guilty of such conduct, as he must know that the Act of Parliament forbad the congre. gating together of mobs on the pavement, no matter for what purpose; and that same Act allowed him to fine any ore infringing it 40'. He added, that he felt very willing to let the present case go unpunished; but he ce=rtainly must have the promise of the prisoner never to commit himself again. The prisoner immedia'ely gave the required promise and was discharged, amid the conzatulations cf his numerous friends, who crowded the court, anxious to hear the judgment. CORONER'S INQUEST (THIS DAY).—This forenoon, at ten o'clock, a jury was =panelled before Mr. Bedford, c toner for Westminster, at the Hanover Picture Gal 'e, y, No. 33, Georgt -street, Hanover-square, on view of the body of Mr. lb nry F. Artar;a, the late proprietor, who committed suicide by the fumes of charcoal. The Coroner, with the jury, having seen the body and the om in which the melancholy act was committed, re ceived the following evidence;—Mr. Angelo C. Ihayter, a relative of the deceased, No. 14, 13 , rners-street, stated that fifteen months ago deceased was attacked with a brain fever. He has since been in a desponding state. He was frequently in a distressed state of mind without any real cause, as his business was not at all compli cated. Joseph Newman, servant to the deem-eel, said that deceased had appeared strange for some time past. Abut a month ago he directed witness not to go into the room where the body was found. A fortnight after he asked witness for some paste. The room was used to repair and varnish pictures. On Thursday list about noon deceased, on witness leaving, told him that he need not come again at two o'clock, his (witness's) usual hour of returning. Witness never saw deceased use paste be fore. The sky light, the openings in the door, and every place where there was an opening was pasted. There was a brazier in the room with some charcoal in it. He found deceased on Friday morning. Mr. Chap pell, surgeon, Conduit-street, who was called in, said that deceased was lying on his stomach with his hands under him. Witness thinks he placed himself in that po sition. He had been dead six or seven hours. Verdict, " Temporary insanity." Fruszicn CLAIBIS.—On Saturday a Parliamentary paper was printed, in pursuance to an order of the House of Commons made at the close of the late session, for a return of unsettled demands on the funds provided by the Government of Franco for liquidating the claims of British subjects, and e f the remaining balance, &c. It appears from the document that the Lords of the Trea sury, on the 13th of April, 1840, confirmed by their minutes, dated the 23d of May, and the 25th of July, 1848, apportioned the whole of the balance of the fund pro rata among the claimants and there no longer exists a balance in hand. On the 25th of July, 1848, the balance was 16 0671., which sum the Treasury requested Dr. Phillimore to apportion for the pro rata payment of the interest on claims admitted under their Lordships' minute of the 15th of May, 1833, and adjudicated on for the first time by the board of commissioners existing at the date of the letter. The return was obtained by Mr. Henry Berkeley, and is nearly the last moved for in the session of 1849. Liell4 enant•Gelleral Sir VV Gomm, K.C.B. (the late Governor of the Mauritius), arrived in London on Saturday evenin g accompanied by - Lady Gomm and suite, from S outhampton, where after a long a b ienee from his nattlieve gall a n n t r t y G , e d n i s e e r m a 1 . , barked on Saturday morning from the steamer from Alexandria. REDUCTION OF WAGES BY THE GOVERNMENT IN THE .NEw FOREST. —The wages of the da)-men have been reduced from 12:,. to 10 e . per week; the old day men have from 12.2. to Cs. p ar wee k ; and the tut men, who make up faggots (oak at 3s. 6d. per hundred and pine at 2P. 6d. per hundred), are all thrown out of work. By this economy, 66,000 acres of land are expected to pay their expenses. It is further proposed to reduce the number of groom-keepers from fifteen to t we l ve; and the three last vacancies hme nut been filled up.__ Gloucester Journal, THE of which was small, next to lotbing v‘a3 doing, at late rateF. sink tho offal. Per Sibs. to s. d. to s. d, s. d. to s.d Inferior Beasts—. 3 0 3 4 Second qual. Sheep 3 2 3 4 Second. quality 3 6 3 8 Coarse-wcolledditto3 6 3 s Prime large Omen• • 3 8 310 Southdown Wether 310 4 2 Prime Scots .• •.•. 3 10 4 0 Ditto eut of the wool 0 0 0 0 Large coarse Calve. 3 4 3 8 Large Hog: iTimt muall ditto 310 4 0 Small Porkers •• 310 4 2 ncl,ling: Calves ..18 0 24 0 Qiiartzr old Pigs • .16 0 22 0 inferior Sheer .2 10 3 0 Lambs • • ...... •• 0 0 0 0 VeditS, 3,521 TOTAL SUPPLY AT MARKET. S ie hß . o s l) 6 I Cal: s •es. FOREIGN SUPPLY. I Sh r e 2 e o p. I Ca 4 l 9 res. I Beasts. 46 BOROUGH AND SPITAX.FIELBS. The imports of Foreign Potatoes into L.)ndon last week wore only 137 tons from Havre, 42 ditt , from Dunkirk, 70 ditto from Rouen, and 90 ditto from Ant werp. Coastwise the receipts have not exceeded 1,000 tons, and those by land carriage have fallen off t%) some extent. As these markets have been vary scantily sui - plied since our last report, the salesmen have succeeded in oUtaining higher prices for all kinds of Potatoes. Present rates are not expected to be supported. Per Ton. Per Ton. York. Regents 1158 to 120 s Common Whites 60s to 70s Ditto Stiaws ... --s to -- s Kent Kidneys ... —s to e Scotch 11,gents 95s to less Ese.x. lt,gents ... —s to s Ditto min. Cups 80s to 90s Ditto Shavre ...•.. —s to a Ditto 13ul1's ... —a to s Ditto Kidneys ... —s to —it Blues ............. —s to —s French Whites ... Eos to 90s Pink Eyes ...... —s to s Ditto Red 5......... —s to —s Lincoln.l egcnts.llos to 115 s Belgian Whites... 75s to 803 Wisbeach ditto 100 s to 110 s Dutch Whites ... —s to a ' itto Kidneys .. —s to - s Ditto Reds ..... ... —a to a Newcastle Regts. 95s to 105 s German ditto ... 60s to 8.5 s BOROUGH lIOP MARKET. Since our last report our market has been in a very inactive state for all kinds of Hops, the supply of which is comparatively small. To effect larger sales, a decline of from 2s to 3s. per cwt in the gut t Worts must be sub mitted to by the fictors. The imports into London last week were 125 bales feom Ostend, and 3 bales from Baltimore. Present rates as under:—New Mid and East Kent pockets, 61 6s to 111 12s ; new Weald of Kent ditto, 61 3s to 81 ; now Sussex ditto, 51 lOs to 61 12s ; Farnhame, 12/ to 131; yearling Kent, 31 to 4/ 10s; yearling Sussex, 2/ 8s to 31 153 ; old Hops, 11 to 3115. WOOL. The supply of Colonial Wool on cffer in the private contract market is still rather small; but a large addi tion to it is shortly expected. Although only a limited business is doing in it, the holders are firm, and will act sell, except at very full prices. The transactions in English Wools are by no means extensise. The accounts from the manufacturing districts are considered favour ble; and we learn that the Foreign Wool fairs have passed off extremely well at higher rates. The imports into London last week were, 5 bales from Dunkirk; 14 ditto from Callao; 127 from Alexandria; 117 from Buenos Ayres; 52 from Ostend; 680 from New Zealand; 240 from Sydney; 9l from Arica; 69 from Smyrna; 1,203 from Ismid; and a few parcels from Ireland. TALLOW. Our market for all kinds of Tallow rules heavy at drooping price•. To-day very little business is doing in P. Y. C. on the spot, at 39s to 38s 6d per cwt. For forward delivery, say up t the end of March, the near est quotation is 385 9d; and new Tallow may be had up to the close of the year at 40s 3d per cwt. Town Tal low, 38s Gd per cwt nett cash; Rough Fat,2s 21 per 81bs. Le ters from St. Petersburgh state that 5,000 casks of Tallow bad changel hands, at 106 roables, with 10 down. LITERATURE. home. It was a higher and a holier thing, the soul's admission to its native skier;, the spirit's ascent to its kindred angels." Elsewhere it is observed by our novelist (11. 15.), in the noble language of con.olation, "the extinction of our little lamp of life will Le as the first word of the summons, the prelude to the appalling anthem that shall hereafter be completed, when the archangel's trumpet, shall resound on high, re-echoing over expiring creation'' There is poetry in that reflection. . . Among the few sentiments which we are disposed to cavil against, as expressed by the author of "Silwood," we shall merely indicate one where it is observed some wh it too much in the scoffing vein of Rouchefou cauldt (I. 43.), "It is better to form too low than too exalted an opinion of another; for in the first place you have but to raise deserving merit to its proper standard, while in the latter you have made idols but to find them clay." Against this sen timent we would protest, because of is alluring sophistry ; and against this sentiment alone—for the work is otherwise almost wholly replete with the exposition and enforcement of the noblest principles and the purest morality. Generically the work might be classed by the superficial among the semi-religious romances ; but in the justice of such a classification we cannot in any way coincide, those fictions being embued invariably with polemics, and bristling at all points with argument, irritating, pragmatic, and controversial. No moral could be F indicated by any fiction more lofty or more hu unanizieg than the one conveyed in " Silwood"— the intention of the novelist being perpetually di rected beyond the mere earthly horizon to that celestial region in the east, towards which the Arab bends in homage in the desert, and where the Chris tian looks for the doomsday apparition of the Mes siah coming in the midst of the clouds of heaven with great pomp and majesty, attended by innumer able legions of the beatified. To no sect individually, to no creed exclusively, is the religious portion of the narrative addresses), but to all those who believe in the divinity of the Nazarene, to all those who read the Book of Books with the reverence of faith and the simplicity of children, the tendency of the story must prove singularly clear and palatable. The nar rative in this particular, indeed, is conceived in that admirable spirit which seems of late to be gradually pervading a large portion of the light literature of our generation—the spirit which evidenced itself con spicuously in Warren's " Now and Then," and yet more recently in Bulwer Lytton's family picture of the " Caxtons." .. . Referri ng ye t once more to the i ngen i ous complication of the plot of " Silwood," and especially to that portion of it which we have already termed the equivoque of the passions, we would here make a brief but suggestive quotation, in which the embarrassments cf the six lovers are happily enumerated. The passage occurs in the midst of their causeless bewilderment:— " Alas, poor Jessie, she was just learning by expe rience that sorrow w i t h out h o p e , in which no appeal to the kindest friends can soothe or cheer; the course or true love never did run smooth,' was fully exemp lifi ed in all th e c h aracters concerne d i n this narrative. Whe ther we turn to Gordon in his wild anguish .of untutored grief; to Fl orence i n h er p ass i o nate despair; to Jessi e with her g r i e f effaced by tears; to Julia with her calm endurance veiling a broken heart; to Silwood in hi s gloomy solit u d e , w h ere ma ny a vain struggle was made to bury his affection in the mine of study; to Ross in his sorrowful retire men t, where every touch of hi s ly re , woke the echoes of happier times, the glimpse of better days—all, alike were miserable!" How the miseries accruing to Jessie Gordon, Flo rence Howard, and Julia Maitland, to Gordon, to Ross, and to Silwood, become in the end assuaged, or whether those miseries are mitigated at all in their poignancy, we shall not attempt to intimate, solicitous as we are that the work itself sh ou ld b e co nsulted for any desired expla nation. Bef o re our p rese nt criticism is brought to a conclusion we would redeem a promise given at its commencement, by directing more particular atten tion than we have done hitherto to those more dis cursive and at the same time more reflecti ve c h ap t ers in " Silwood'' where the novelist apostrophizes the master passions of his fellow-mortals. We cannot do this more emphatically than by quotation. here, therefore is a passage in which our au th or g i ves utterance to some of his cherished thoughts upon LITERARY CELEBRITY. " An author ! that magic word ! what thoughts are therein contained, what dreams t.f daring and of hope I what glimpses of genius and of glory I what dazzling visions t f entrancing bliss ! what thrilling spells of ft tare ecstacy, the heavenly vista of a Godlike genies, the immortal promise of a golden glory —a glory sym bolical of eternity, in its infinitude and duration—a glory emblematical of Heaven in its altitude and de light. There is something ravishing in:the thought—there is something ennobling in the ice , , that when rolling ages shall have swept over our decaying dust, our works shall still remain, instinct with the beauty of truth, bright with the fire of genius. And who ti at ever wrao but felt that thrilling thought? And who that e'er composed but hailed that bright ides? The hope, although without the faith, the ideal tl a' may never be realized. Who the most calm—who the most cold, that ever penned a line, but owns the magic sway, but bends to the supreme delight of future Lime ? To be an au• thor a ems to be something higher, nobler than the re:t of all mankind, not better, not more beloved, for all are equal in affection, and all share the same glorious ds C tiny as sons of God and heirs of Heaven; the future must be equal, but for the present, children ef genius hold a higher rank, for are th ey not entrusted with their Maker's spirit in a more sublime degree? and are they not depositaries of His prerogative in a more holy sense? For think what gif t s are t h e i rs, out o f whose shining genius are emitted flames that inspire with vital sparks inanimate creations, out cf whose burning eloquence are given tongues to fancied forms and ' airy nothings,' by whose era ative powers are peopled the realms of ima gination; by the easing of whose mystic wands thou sands move and breathe and have their being. Who has not closed some volume with regret, as the thought has occured the opinion suggested itsel, that all acquaintance with its inhabitants hart ceased? We lave formed a sort of friendship with them, that we fain would foster and cul tivate; but in vain, the spell is broken, the enchantment, passed, the illusion vanished—all is over. Yet, do w e feel a sort of lingering fondness for the images, as mir rored in the glass of memory. Is it then nothing to be able to create eut of n onentity the b ea u ideal th a t may have been lingering in the mind, and forming in the fancy of an utter stranger? Is it then nothing to breathe words that find an echo in creative minds, to strike chords that vibrat e sweetest pleasure in congenial spirits, attuning with their thrilling melody all kindred instinct , , all exalted senti ments, joi ni ng all souls in sym pathy, blending all hearts i n unison, ennobling the im mortal, immortalizing the Noble, raising mortals to heaven, calling angels t o earth! And what though it is sweet to think, that what he now is writing shall be read by future sons and daughters et unborn,' who shall inhabit kingdoms yet to come, when centuries shall have swept away ; though it is thrilling, exquisite delight to hail the enr a p tured vision, to contemplate the seraphic picture; who d oes not think that it is yet some glory bright as incomprehensible, that it is yet some greatness immaculate , as inconceivable, to be extolled by beings now existing, to b e enshrined i n hearts now beating with the pul se o f life; no vulgar praise, no syco phantic serenade, synonymous with °shallow sophisms,' no lofty pre ins sound hi s name, but myriad beings who have read and under s t oo d him Le his laudatory, his best acclaimers, his most p el f- et panegyrists. This i s pure fame, this is real honour, this i s t rue re nown, great in i ts g l ory , g l orious i n its greatness. Seek ye for this, all yo aspirants, for the laurels of the Nine gain it, and rolling centuries and passi ng generat i ons b u t c ompl e t e your triumph; tried in the furnace of truth, tested b . l lions shall, in embryo tongues, declare its immortality. y the tombstone f time, l o ! i t survives t i ll un b orn Here, again, is his i mpass i oned panegyr i c upon STLWOOD. A Novel in Two Volumes. 131,2ztle:y. Always to us there is an inexpressible charm in the peruse] e f a " first work," a fascination in oil,- serving the earliest venture of a writer concealing a meritorious timidity under the mask of the anon y mous. Our pleasure in the examination of the se volumes has been of this agreeable character. For it would be impossible not to recognise the ard , iur of youth, and the eloquence of an unjeded ambitio a, ie a narrative like "Silwood," a narrative which is, never theless, to a very remarkable degree, devoid of the crudeness of unpractised or immature abilities, and of the errors usually attendant upon literary i aexpe rience. Whatever may be thought of the facilities of composition, there are two difficulties encountered at the outset of the labours of authorship, one or other of which almost invariably precludes the possibility of complete success at the commencement. And these obstacles to the preliminary triumphs of the litera telur principally manifest their influence in his style— sometimes in the mode of thought, sometimes in the mode of expression, in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases,out of every thousand in both together. With every young writer, generally speaking, his mode of expres sion is marked either by its poverty or its turgescence; it runs on the one hand into the mazes of untutored fluency, or on the other becomes cramped into a hard and scholastic distortion. lli.s mode of thought, at the same time, betrays a predilection either for exces sive particularity or excessive generalization ; it leaves, on the one hand, nothing to the fancy of the reader, or, on the other, abandons everything to the scope of his imagination. In this manner the aspirant for literary honours, in the vast majority of instances, discovers only when such a discovery is altogether too late, that his style has glided into the school-bred meanness reprobated by Aristotle, or into the school bred grandiloquence condemned as emphatically by the lips of L inginus. What is of equal importance, moreover, he hazards, in so doing, an exclusive appeal either to the esoteric or the exoteric sympathies of the population. Having read " Silwood" as we read every work appearing under similar auspices—the first attempt of an invisible hand to cull some fruits or blossoms in the garden of Literature—having pe rused it, namely, with a scrupulous attention to these initiatory requirements, we can most cordially felicitate the author on having entirely escaped from the commission of faults almost in evitably incidental to the first adventure in the craft of penmanship. Throughout, the chap ters are written in a tone of sustained earnestness, the descriptive passages breathing the fervour of en thusiasm, and the reflective fancies being conveyed in language singularly terse and sententious. Occa sionally, indeed, the novelist carries his brevity of expression even to quaintness, as where, speaking ef the evil influence of a first step in crime, he says (1., 41.), " once is a precedent;" or as where, in another place, he designates the contemporary time " the an - tiquity of posterity." Elsewhere, borne along by the energy of his inspirations, his voice rises into a pro longed strain of real and unaffected eloquence, in apostrophies to fame, to love, to beauty, to death, and to that heroic spirit which he regards as the desired vitality of this age of utilitarianism. Of these pane gyrics on the master-passions of humanity, and on the arch-destroyer of mankind, we shall have a more fitting opportunity to speak, after having considered the more immediate object of our criticism—we mean the general merits or blemishes of the whole compo sition. Viewed as a mere narrative story, " Sil wood " possesses the excellence of exciting, al most from the opening pages, the interest of the reader. The plot of the story must be pronounced to be most admirably ingenious. It realises in a .very vivid manner that beautiful picture which emanated, if we recollect rightly, from the graceful hand of Mr. Frank Stone, and the en graved representation of which has been long popu lar, entitled " Cross Purposes." In evidence of this we may remark, without in any way damaging the interest of the novel by an untimely eclaircissement, and thereby materially injuring its principal attrac tion, that the heroes and heroines of " Sil wood" (no less than six in number collectively) are entangled in a web of misapprehension as to the love entertained towards each other. It is from our sense of the adroit ness with which these equivokes of passion, as we may term them perhaps not inappropriately, are con ceived and delineated, quite as much as from our estimate of the author's force of thought and fluency of expression, that we augur well for his subsequent adventures along the pleasant and flowery paths of Literature. In the complication of his plot, in the entanglement of an already intricate series of misunderstandings, and in the final clearing up of all these numberless misappre hensions, towards the denouement our author betrays a capacity such as must, if properly cultivated and sedulously developed, bring forth worthier fruits than the clever and ingenious narrative of " Silwooci." We shall expect from his hands the fulfilment of our prediction, and in its fulfilment we shall hail right cordially the progress and enhancement of his reputa tion. Among the different characters introduced to our notice in the present effusion we must especially particularise those of Silwood himself, of his friends Ross and Gordon, and of the three charming heroines, the intellectual beauty, Florence, the lively and lovely Jessie, and best beautiful of all from the nobility of her self-sacrificing disposition, the gentle, amiable, and right womanly Julia Mait land. The last mentioned, in truth, we conceive to be by far the most successfully delineated. The mere notion of a temperament like that of Julia Maitland is one entitled to deep and delightful con templation ; but the power with which the ideal has been sustained throughout, so as to render her every word, thought, and action consistent with so much exalted excellence, is to the brow of the novelist at once his plume and his laurels. Silwood appears to be a dreamy semblance of some illustrious lawyer, de scribed in his days of youthful vicissitude, and in the earliest hours of his forensic celebrity. Ross we cannot but imagine to be an indirect portraiture of the gifted and versatile knight-representative of the shire of Buckingham, kindred to him in his showy abilities and volatile enthusiasm, and only lacking resemblance where the former is spoken of as a votary of the muses of poetry. Gordon, although less artistically pencilled, is nevertheless a most engaging and agreeable sketch, possessing many noble qualities and blessed with a genial temperament. Of the other fictitious personages little need be said, seeing that we have no intention whatever of fore stalling the revelations of the narrative. Some, how ever, merit at our hands at least a passing allusion— such, for example, as Harcourt, the voluptuary; •• Farquhar, the unprincipled roué; Mr. Agendale, the '" fine old country gentleman ;" ]tar. Maitland, the father of Julia and guardian of Jessie ; Mr. Fentum, the uncle of Gordon ; Mrs. Howard, the mother of Florence ; and many others not here enumerated. IVith the aid of these imaginary beings the writer has penned a tale that may well engross the attention of all who experience solace in for getting for a while real in fictitious sufferings, and in enhancing actual, by forming acquaintance with supposititious happiness. The current of the into the runs alternately, or rather intermittently, tbe sorrowful and the joyous, changing according to the mood of the novelist, from the hues of pathos to those of hilarity Before the second volume has been entirely conned the reader has not merely become familiar with a world apart from, though similar to his own, but can number up almost as many deaths and marriages as come within the limits of his own recollection. The frequent recurrence of the calamity of dissolution in the record of the fortunes of Silwood we take to be one of the most prominent features of the effusion—investing it in several parts to our thinking as with a sombre and lugubrious atmosphere. Without reference to the successive chapters we could readily number up twenty or thirty of the creatures moving within the circle of the story who perish lee fore its conclusion, from old age, from consumption, from accident, from the debility and disease conse quent upon an abandoned and licentious career, or from the last and most tragic catas trophe of all, sweeping off many together in a single tempest. Of all these descriptions of death, the most solemn, the most touching, the most eloquent, and the most beautiful is that of the young and angelic sister of Ross, wasted away prematurely under the terrible influence of decline. We cannot resist g i v i ng the f o llowing admirable pero ration of that description, perhaps one of the most felicitous passages in the two volumes : " The hour came at last lit was a calm and: tranquil evening, the balmy breath of summer floated in through the open lattice, perfumed with the rich odours of a thousand fragrant flowers, and filled the room with in cense. In the chamber was visible the united loveliness of life and death, so finely blended, so nearly commin gled, that the beholder was precluded from distinguish ing the departure of the one, or the advent of the other. There were no final parting, and no farewell look, no as that twili g ht h our, as that summer eve. dying adjurati on , an d no last prayer; all was calm, all was holy, She had been talking, as of old of peace,' an 1 while the words yet echoed i n t h e a i r, while the thrilling me lody cf her voice yet lingered in the ears of her list eners, her quit broke the lest faint shsckle of mor tality, and ascended to the realms where peace reigns fur over. " Time passed as they gazed on that fair young crea ture, who had left the dominiors of time for ever. Sud denly Sil wood rose, and drew back the curtain that par tially concealed her, and the rich flood of golden light poured in upon the scene, suffusing it with all the splen dour of the setting sun, and the last beams of day flung a crowning halo over the dead, embalming her sanctified loveliness. The change had taken place—what change? What was it philosopher? the cad of this fitful scene, the closing act in life's vain dre am. What nas it ma terialist? the dissolution of the human fabric; ' ashes to ashes; earth to earth; dust to dust.' What was it sen timentalist? the finality of grief, the period of suffer ing, the catastrophe of trials. What was it Christian, who speaks with the light of truth revealed, and the palge of salvation unfolded? It was a brighter and a better work, the trawler of the immortal to its Wier.- outs heaven; the transit 9f the redeemed to its beatified celred, so perverted, and, again, so ridiculed, there is contained all this world's happiness or misery, all the next world's hope t f glory? It is the spirit that in the earlier ages of this earth occasioned its redemption; may ' we trust that it shall in these latter days complete is regeneration? Carried to sublimity in heaven, it ef fected man's salvation; raised to pesl3ction in his ht art, it ensures his felicity. It is invested with the qualities that seem peculiar to the legends of fairies, and the tales of genii. Is there nothing supernatural in the faculty, that brings back to silvery age the sunny prospec!s of a golden youth; in the infidence that smooths the rugged world of poverty, and adorns the flowery path of riches; in the power that trenrf ,rms dust and ashes into life and lustre, that turns the perishing worms of the earth into the spirits of glory and the angels of God; calling from the mouldering homes of corruption, beiegs instinct with btatuty; creatures sparkling with light. This is what Love can do:! Say not it is a lowly feeling and a paltry sentiment. Is there a holier—a sublimer essence? It is deified by the acts t f the Divinity; it is hallowed in being the herald of the Most High; it is sactified in being the spirit of salvation; it is glorified with the image and the impress of the Redeemer; it is stamped with the superscription and the sign -manual of Heaven ! Do you ask its illustrious votaries, and grand apostles? We give 3 ou the highest of all examples; the example cf One, Who, although he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor ; ' Wh o l e f t t h e excess eithat happiness, no mortal can understand, for the extent of that anguish, no mortal can imagine.' '""liere, in fine, is the opening of an eulogium (too long for unmutilated transcription) upon that senti ment which is truly declared to be most wanting to the present generation. THE HEROIC SPIRIT. "A new pole -star had startod up in the bright vista of their future, glowing with the golden hues of glory, it was the source from whence have flown the countless streams of high promise, that have finally merged into the oc, an of immortality; it was the stem from whence have sprung the blossoms of varied beauty that have subsequently ripened into fruits t f fame; in fine, it was the heroic feeling, which reviled, persecuted, and op posed, has flourished and still flourishes amid every dis advantage. Change has not tarnished its glory, ages have not effected its annihilation; that which illumined the infancy of time shall survive till time itself shell be no more; not even at the end of crtit'ion can we look for its extinction, for that existence into which a divine es sence has been infused is essentially eternal, and indi genous to immortality. Its progress has been marked by all that has raised the character of the world—by nothing that has lowered it. Among its votaries are classed the demi-gods ' Around its shrine Are ranged for evermore the tuneful nine.' "All most high in humaeity; all most excellent on earth; all enrolled under its flaming banners. " Iti annals are adorned by a glorious company of apostles, by a goodly fello ship of prophets, by a noble army of martyrs. It numbers in its lists of glory, it counts in its ranks of fame, sages, poets, philosophers, patriots, warriors, legislators; all—all who have been imbued with its influence; all who have been inspired with its zeal. The catalogue comprises centuries and tens of centuries—the sphere of action, the extended globe. Is there, who gainsays its puissance ? exists there, who underrates its achievements? Survey its empires, and behold its doings. "It has been opposed as was never opposed, any other; but yet it is immaculate and imperturbable. It has sur vived the most dangerous of all attacks, derision; un moved, unmoveable—unextinguished, unextinguishable —unchanged, unchangeable. It has outlived its oppo nents; woe t all enemies, ineffable scorn is their meed, and oblivion shadows their graves.' Would some de mand, what is this vaunted effigy, this far- famed pro digy; the representation of vivid lustre, the impersona tion of exalted majesty ? Read the records of the pen man, the lore of a , tiquity, the ruling destiny, the active agent has been one glorious feeling—the heroic prin ciple. It is the spirit that has produced everything that is great, everything that is noble, in all ages and in all countries; since first the course of time began since first the earth revolved in ether. It is the spirit that has created all the immortal ones in history, in all its divisions, ancient and modern, sacred and profane. It is the spirit that piled the funeral pyre of Thermo pyle; the spirit that led Eustace from the walls of be sieged Calais; the spirit that illumined the last moments of a More, and that glittered round the prison of a dying Socrates." But that our observations upon the merits of " Silwood" have already extended to a length so considerable, we should have descanted with par ticular emphasis upon perhaps the finest descrip tion and the most striking incident in the two volumes, we mean the intellectual triumph achieved by the hero as a forensic orator. Already, however, we have sufficiently analyzed the fiction to render its more prominent excellences conspicuous to our readers even befire their perusal of the work itself; inso much so, that it scarcely needs our assertion that the novel reveals ability capable of being developed into—a reputation. WHITE JACKET; or, THE WORLD in a MAN-OF-WAR. By Hem= Melville. 2 Vols. Herman Melville is indefatigable. Hardly have we finished the perusal of one of his compositions be fore another is issued from the press. Unlike some writers, however, his activity in non ise impairs the interest of his " yarns" or the attraction of his style. From the imaginative to the practical is to the author of " Typee" but one step; he turns with facility from the description of the marvellous regions of Mardi, and the chronicle of the impos sible adventures of the voyage thither, to detail with a minute fidelity the adventures (.f a sailor-boy (vide " It!dburn"), or to exhibit the peculiarities of the world of a man-of-war (vide " White Jacket"). The chapters contained in these volumes are the supposed revelations of a sailor in the American navy, yclept White Jacket, on account of his extraordinary outer-covering, of which we are told— "It was not a very white jacket, but white enough, in all conscience, as tie sequel will show. " The way I came by it was this. " When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coaat of Porn —her last harbour in the Pacific—l found my: elf with out a grey°, or sailor's surtout; and m, toward the end of a three-years' cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser's steward; and being bound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was indispensable; I employed myse:f, for several days, in manufacturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to shelter me from the boisterous weather we were so soon to en counter. It was nothing more than a white duck frock, or rather shirt; w hich, spreading on deck, I fAded double at tfe bosom, and by then making a col Cfluation of the slit there, opened it lengthwisa—much as you would cut a lett - in the last new novel. Tte gash being made, a metamorphosis took place, tran , cending any relat by Ovid. For, presto! the shirt was a coat !—a strange tooking coat, to be sure; of a Qiakerish amplitude about the skirts; with an infirm, tumbledown collar; and a clumsy filaess about the wristbands; and white, yin, white as a abroad. And my shroud it of erwards came very near proving, as he who reads farther will find. "But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a sammer jacket is this, in which to weather Cape Horn? A very tasty, and beautiful white linen garment it may have seemed; but then, people almost universally sport their linen next to their skin. " Very true; and that thought very early occurred to me; for no idea had I of scudding round Cape Horn in my shirt; for ttat would have been almost scudding under bare poles indeed. "So, with many odds:and ends of patches—old ocks, old trowser-legs, and the like—l bedarr ed and bequilted the inside of my jacket, till it'became, all over, stiff and padded, as King James's cotton-stuffed and dagger-proof doublet; and no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more stoutly. " So far, very good; but pray, tell me, Whitc-Jacket, how do you propose keeping out the rain and the wet in this quilted grego of yours? You don't call this wad of old patches a Mackintosh, do you?—You don't pre tend to say that worsted is water-proof? "No, my dear friend; and that was the deuce of it. Water-proof it was not, no more than a sponge. In- deed, with such recklessness had I bequilted my jacket, that in a rain-storm I became a universal absorber; swabbing bone-dry the very bulwarks I leaned against. Of a damp day, my heartless shipmates even used to stand up against me, so powerful was the capillary at traction between this luckless jacket of mine and all drops of moisture. I dripped like a turkey a' roasting; and long after the rain-storms were over, and the sun showed his face, I still stalked a Scotch mist; and when it was fair weather with others, alas! it was foul weather with me." Without giving any . continuous history, White Jacket skilfully contrives, by describing the cha racters of many of the officers and men on board the Neversink, and, by relating many incidents which occurred on board that vessel, to give (Mich is the avowed object of the work) an idea of the world of a man• of-war appertaining to Uncle Sllll. ". In the year 1843," says the preface, " the author shipped as a common sailor on board of a United States frigate, then lying in a harbour of the Pacific Oeean. After serving on board of this frigate for more than a year, he was discharged with the rest of the crew upon the vessel's arrival home. His man-of-war experiences and observations have been incorporated into the present volumes. But these volumes are not presented as a journal of the cruiz -." White Jacket commenc:s his history with the frigate's weighing anchor at the last harbour in the Pacific, for the home ward-bound passage, by the way Of Cape Horn. First he gives us a full, true, and particular account of the white jacket which we have spoken of above ; then he proceeds to initiate us into the various divisions of a man-pf-war's crew, sheet - anchormen, after-guard, waisters, &c. &c. Poor White Jacket laments, and with good reason, on the perplexing variety of numbers which a sailor has to bear in mind. First he is given the number of his mess; then his ship's number, or the number to which he must answer when the watch roll is called ; then the number of his hammock, then the number of the gun to which he is assigned, be sides a variety of other numbers. Then follow some life-like sketches of various incidents on board,—the Commodore who stalked the deck in solemn silence : "I have serious doubts," says White Jacket, " whether for the most part he was not dumb. And not only did he seem dumb himself, but his presence possessed the strange power of making other people dumb fur the " The mist er LOVE. passion of the human heart now exer - Fised his agrney ; th e ruling spir i t o f t h e h uman race infused his !impulse; the greet sovereign of man's ac tions now seized the added unit to his myriad subjects. What wag the p ass i on? Wh i c h t h o s pi r it? Wh o t h e sovereign? Love I Love ! word of wonder, hope and joy who shall d e fi ne thy myst i c s p e ll? w h o s h a ll ex plain thy potent influence? it is an object too vast for world;human intellect to com pr e hend, a subject too subli me for hu man i magination to descry; and yet upon its per fect comp re h ension there depen d s t h e welfrre of the within its imagery of glory is comprise] th e happin ess ( f all its denizen?. Wh o t h en shall deter mine the o ff spr i ng cf that sp i r it, th e s o urce o f all our sorrow, the seeing of all our joys? who shall expand its hidden workings, who reveal its covert acts? It i s con cealed, b ut i t i s by a ve i l o f g l or y ; it is enveloped, but it is by a cloud of rolling splendour. It is shrouded by sanctity, enrolled in eternity, a secret of the Most high, a divine mystery. We are permitted here to f-el its sorrow, that hereafter we may deserve to know it s bli ss; we sre to en d ure t h e angu i s h of its fading belo w , t h at we may be p er f ecte d to re j o i ce in itsimmortality above. e Whatsoever things are pare, whatsoever things are lovely, are li a bl e t o be abused, reviled, and misinter preted; oven so w i t h L ove; su blime and holy sp i r i t, im• mutable 'sod b urn i ng esse nce, to what debasin g i n fl uences would they lo we r th e e, with what defiling images pollute thee! " Alas, for human nature, ever prone to call good evil, evil good; that this antepast of heaven; this antetype of God; this emanation of eternal mercy; this day-spring of immortal glory, should be confounded w i t h t h e meanest of all worldly passions, and cla sse d w i th the lowest r f all grovelling instincts I Much shall have you to answer for; assumere if ignorant; sacrilegiouq if in formed; who dare to sully its fair fame —who 'deem to judge its innate purity. It is not any sentiment, how ever bright and beaming with vitality, however great and glorious with light, that we would designate by this most sacred of denominations, this most sublime of images. It is the feeling of filth; hope in its highest, holiest state; charity i n it s perfected es sence; t h e majesty of heaven; te humility of earth; a blending power; a concentrating spirit; tending to better, aspiring to nobler. Tbis is Love! Love, as we would have it called; Love, as we would here invoke it. What are its doings? What its'attributes? What its essentials? Its doings are ma nifest in every mind at peace; in every heart th a t b eats with joy. See you some beings holier, happier than the rest, more favoured than the common herd; Love is their informing spirit; Love is their abidi ng i nstinct; Love their tutelary di v i n ity ; Love th e ir guardian angel; its attributes are peace on earth, good-will towards men; its essentials arc, entire sympathy, complete devotion, perfmt trust. -" Who would believe, 010 in this spirit, 50'03600n. SUN, LONDON', 7 1 ' a ' MONDAY EVENING, JANUARY 28, 1850 time ;" Captain Claret, the lieutenants, two young lieutenants nick-named Selvagee and Mad Jack, the former a counterpart ff . " Sporus," the latter a thorough sailor, who, in a moment of danger, did not hesitate to contradict the captain himself. These are among the officers celebrated by White Jacket. The " men," or the "people," as he calls them, present a yet more interesting varsity ; foremost of these is Jack Chase. lore is his picture : "First and foremost was Jack Chase, our noble First Captain of the Top. He was a Briton, and a true-blue; tall and well-knit, with a clear open eye, a fine broad brow, and an abounding nut-brown beard. No man ever had a bettor heart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen, and admired by the officers; and even when the Cal tain spoke to him, it was with a slight air a re sp Let. Jack was a frail and charming mar. "No one could be better company in a forecastle or saloon; no man told such stories, sang such songs, or with gr, ater alacrity sprang to his duty. Indeed, there was only ono thing wanting about him, and that was a finger of his left hand, which finger he had lost at the great battle of Navarino. " He had a high conceit of his profession as a sf aman; and being deeply versed in all things pertaining tA a man-of-war, was universally regarded as an oracle. The main-top, user which he presided, was a sort of Delphi, to which many pilgrims wended, to have their per plexities or differences settled. " There was such an abounding air of good sense and good f,eling about the man, that he who could not love him, would thereby pronounce himself a knave. I thanked my sweet stars that kind fortune had placed me near him, though under hin , , in the frigate; and from the outs, t Jack and I were fast friends. " Wherever you may be now rolling over the blue billows, dear Jack! take my best love along with you; and God bless you, wherever you go! " Jack was a gentleman. What though his hand was hard, so was not his heart, too often the case with soft palms. His manners were easy and free; none of the boisterousness, so common to tars; and he had a polite, courteous way of saluting you, if it were only to borrow your knife." On the subject of flogging White Jacket becomes eloquent with indignation —and no wonder ! Be it remembered that the writer of these volumes has been himself a common sailor, and, as such, liable to suffer from the lash—as such, his remarks are entitled to especial sympathy. A few passages will show the spirit of the whole, with which, it is unnecessary to say, we heartily and entirely agree : "According to the present laws and usages of the Navy, a seaman, for the most trivial alleged offences, of which ho may be entirely innocent, must, without a trial, undergo a penalty the traces whereof he carries to the gave; for to a man-of-war's-man's experienced eye the marks of a naval scourging with the " cat" are through life discernible. And with these marks on his back, this image of his Creator must rise at the Last Day. Yet so untouchable is true dignity, that there are cases wherein to be flogged at the gangway is no dig honour; though, to abase and hurl down the last pride of some sailor who has piqued him, be sometimes the secret motive, with some malicious officer, in procuring . him to be condemned to th e l as h. B u t thi s f ee l ing o f the innate dignity remaining untouched, though out wardly the body be scarred for the whole term of the natural life, is one if the hushed things, buried among the holiest privacies of the soul ; a thing between a man's God and himself; and for ever undiscernible by our fellow-men, who account that a degradation which seems so to the corporal eye. But what torments must that seaman undergo, who, while his bask bleeds at the gangway, bleeds agonized drops of shame from his soul! Are we net justified in immeasurably denouncing this thing? Join hands with me, then; and in the name of that Being, in whose image the flogged sailor is made, let us demand of Legislators, by what right they dare profane what God himself accounts sacred. " Is it lawful for you to scourge a man that is a Ro man? asks the intrepid Apostle, well knowing, as a Roman citizen, that it was not. And now, eighteen hundred years after, is it lawful for you, my countrymen, to scourge a man that is an American—to scourge him round the world in your frigates? " It is to no purpose that you apologetically appeal to the general depravity of the man-of-war's-man. Depra vity in the oppressed is no apology for the oppressor; but rather an additional stigma to hire, as Leing, in a large degree, the effict, and not the cause and justifica tion of oppression. " Or will you say that a navy officer is a man, but that an American-born citizen, whose grandsire may hare ennobled him by pouring out his blood at Bunk or-hill— will you say that, by entering the service of his coun try as a common seaman, and standing ready to fight her foes, he thereby loses his manhood at the very time he most asserts it? Will you say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to the liability of the scourge, but if he tarries ashore in the time of danger, he is safe from that indignity? All our linked states, all four cortinents of mankind, unite in denouncing such a thought. " We plant the question, then, on the topmost argu ment of all. Irrespective of incidental considerations, we assert that flogging in the navy is opposed to the es sential dignity of man, which no legislator has a right to violate; that it is oppressive, and glaringly unequal in its operations; that it is utterly repugnant to tte spirit of our democratic institutions; indeed, that it involves Hoge ring trait ( f the worst times of a barbarous feudal ari>t , cracy; in a word, we denounce it as religiously, morally, and immutably wrong. " No matter, then, what may be the eonsequelees of its abolition; no matter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our unprttected commerce should fsll a prey to the spoiler, the aw ftil admonitions c f justice and hu manity demand that abolition without procrastination; in a voice that is not to be mistaken, demand that abo lition to-day. It is not a dollar-and-seat question of ex' ediency; it is a matter ( f right and wrong. And if any man can lay his hind on his heart, and solemnly •ay that this scourging is right, let that man but once feel the lash on his own back, and in his agony you will hear the apostate call the seventh heavens to witness that it is wrony. And, in the name c f immortal manhood, would to God that every man who upholds this thing were scourged at the gangway till he recanted!" After remarking that Lord Nelson was, in point of policy, averse to flogging, and that Collingwood, pro verbial for his maintenance of discipline, rarely, if ever, had recourse to it, Herman Melville calls upon his countrymen no longer to follow the example (:f England in the following magnificent exordium, some passages of whi c h are em i nen tly t rut hf u l, and some are inflated with a little Yankee vanity : " In things of this kind England should be nothing to us, except an example to he shunned. Nor should wise legislators wholly govern themselves by precedents, and conclude that, since scourging has so long prevailed, some vie tue must reside in it. Not se. The world ha, arrived at a period which renders it the part of Wisdom to r ay homage to the prospective precedents of the Fu ture, in preference to those of the Past. The Past is de ad, and has no resurrection; but the Future is endowed with such a life, that it lives to us even in anticipation. The Past is, in many things, the fie of mankind; the Future is, in all things, our friend. In the Past is no hope; the Future is both hope and fruition. The Past is the text-book of tyrants; tee Futere the Bible of the Free. Those who are solely governed by V e Part stand like Lot's wife, crystalhz d in the act cf looking backwards, and for ever incapable of looking before. Let us 1• am the l'ast, then, to dictate laws to im movable China; let us abandon it to the Chinese Legiti mists of Eurape. But for us, we will have another cap tto ru'e over us—that captain who ever marches at the Lead of his troop, and beckons them forward, not lingering in the re ae, and impeding their march with lumbering baggage waggons of old precedents. 77. is is the Past. " But in many things we Americans aro driven to a rejection ( f the maxims of the Pa t, seeing that, ere long, the van of the nations must, of right, belong to ourselves. Ti ore are occasions when it is far America to make precedent-, and net to obey them. We should, if possible, prove a teacher to posterity, instead of be ing the pupil of by-gone generations. More shall come after us than have gone Lofore; the world is net yet middle -aged. " Escaped from the house c f bondage, Israel ( f old did not follow after the ways of the Egyptians. To her was given an express dispensation; to her were given new things under the sun. And wo Americans are the pe culiar, chosen people—the Israel of our time; we bear the ark of the liberties of the world. seventy years ago we escaped from thrall; and, besides our first bit thright —embracing one coLtinet.t cf e arth—God has given to us, for a future inheritance, the broad domains of the political paeans, that shall yet come and lie down under the shade cf our ark, without bloody hands being lifted. God has predestinated, mankind expects, great things from our race; and great things we feel in our souls. We are the pioneers of the world; the advance guard, sent on through the wilderness of untried things, to break a new path in the New World that is ours. In our youth is our strength; in our inexperience our wisdom. At a period when other nations have but lisped, our deep voice is heard a'ar. Long enough have we been sceptics with regard to ourselves, and doubt-d whether, indeed, the political Messiah had come. But he bas come in us, it we would but give utterance to his prompt ings. And let us always remember, that with our selves—almost for the first time in the hi tory of earth —rational selfishness is unbounded philanthropy; for we cannot do a good to America, but we give alms to the world." An enumeration of the heads of some of the chap ters will give a fair idea of the miscellaneous naturets of White-Jacket's revelations. Among the contents of the second volume are chapters thus a li s e t e e e r e( in a "Purser, Purser's Steward, and_ a d r Postmaster ' ho w they Man-of-War Rumours of . a W were received by the population of the Neversinle.— Midshipmen enter ing The people' aro the navy sa,i)..givAen shore - emperor un board a men of-war.—A qua rter-deck officer before the wart. —A man-of - war button divides two brothers.—A man•of-war's man shot et.—A man-of-war race.— Fever in a man-of- war.—Wltitc-Jarek, et arraigned at th e mast.—The maintop at night.-6e last stitch How they bury a man-of-wars man at sea.—The great massacre of the beards.—The rebels brought to the mast," &c., &c. Varied as are the pictures which Herman Melville here presents to us, the same natural delineation of a master-hand is visible in them all ; and few who have followed its momentous career will arrive without regret at the chapter which re cords " the end of the Jacket." COUNTRY QUARTERS. By the Countess of of Blessington. 3 Vas. Prefixed to this novel is a biography of its gifted and lamented authoress, from the pen of her niece, is Power, 'Xhis PArnitive of Diessington'o .E SEA-SPIRIT AND OTHER PO.EWS. By Airs. Stephen Lushington. Many of the poems contained in this volume have already appeared In the pages of Fraser's Magazine, but their re-publication in this collected form will be welcome to all who are acquainted with their grace ful and harmonious character. One of the most beautiful pieces in this volume is entitled "The Poet's Life," beginning " The poet's loveliest thoughts can ne'er be told." The concluding stanzas gracefully illustrate the pecu liarities of the inward life of the true poet by a very felicitous simile : His secret life is like an Indian isle, Where stately trees and fairest blossoms grow, Where days and nights of cloudless beauty smile, And scented winds thro' long, green pathways blow; Gay woods are there whose verdure dab not fade, And fountains of delight sing bcftly in the shade. And there he dwells, and there the midnight stars Look down on him like friends; there seldom sound The moan of care, the din of worldly wars. In spells of peace and love that isle is bound; The very waves that kiss its happy shore Seem hashed, ai if the storm could never wake them more. And yet the unresting sea of out ward lif Whose treach'rous waters seemed for ever husked, Hath still iti darker hours of storm and strife, And pain may come where pain for aye seemed crushed. Change they may bring to that sweet sunny isle. Thank God! they mar its beauty only for awhile. Tho storm may rend a few green boughs away,— May break the tender stems of some fair flow'rs; Its louder voice may drowa the fountain's play, Its rage alone be heard a few short hours; But then must end its mad destructive reign, And ear th is beautiful, and heav'n is calm again. Then from that lovely isle there floateth out Unwonted fragrance o'er the chang6 ful deep, Till they who chance to wander thereabout, Feel strange delight, and eyes long dry will weep Such tears as have in them a deeper bliss Than the unquiet laughter of a world like this. Ohl who, because a storm at times may break O'er that fair scene, could wish one flower the loss? Who from the poet's life one vision tak ,, , In dread le , t after-hours should bring distress? Fear not for him, no sorrow can destroy His heaven-implanted sense of beauty and of joy! _ - lie may have cares to duller souls unknown, And grief we know not be to him re►ealed; Fear not for him! his gladness is his own, Nev springs of comfort are for him unteded. his life is more than ours; to him are given, Even on this dull earth, thoughts that belong to heaven! Occasionally Mrs. Lushington writes in a style of exceeding simplicity, which greatly enhances the pathetic interest of some of her descriptive p'eces. Among these is " A Tale of Real Life," which de tails the hopeful, anxious expectation of a maiden whose betrothed is at sea : "The early buds are swelling; The time will bOOTA be come,-- The blessed time he promised I should sec him here at home. Ile said, 'I will be with th(e Ere the leaves are on the bough;' And the time will soon be coming, For the buds are swelling now!" Thus she murmured in her glainess To her loving heart alone, Thus she hoped, and thus she trusted Till the spring was nearly gone; Thus watched she till the larch boughs Had donned their veil of green, And hidden from her window The water's sunny sheen. Then stole she forth at morning, Then stole she firth et eve, (For she knew his heart too truly To drum ha could deceive); With weary eyes still watching, Yet she hoped with ttoadftst heart; " When ho cometh hona#," she whispered, " lie will never more depart!" Though she saw ti e scatt .red daisies, Unfolding one by one, Till many a starry blossom Lay laughing to the sun; Though the larch's feath'ry shadow Fell dark upon the slop Yet she watched v.ith quiet patience, And herd with constasit hole. She wandered by the waters Where he first hnd t pld hist ove, With the summer sea fir witness, And the placid stars above; Where silo listened, look ingdownward, With a Llush on check and brow, And a heart that fluttered wildly To the music of his vow. That music had not failed her, Though I er home was fall of strife; It quelled, by its sweet power, the harsher tones of life; And she serTed the frowning stranger Who filled her mother's place, Wilk a spirit full of meekness, And au ever smiling face. In the tender melancholy of these unpretending lines there is an infinitely greater charm than many ela borate and pompous productions can boast. Alto gether " The Sea-Spirit and other Poems" is a volume of most pleasing character. THE CABINET LAWYER; a popular Digest of the Laws of England. Fifteenth Edition. Tne present edition of this most useful and popular work brings down the legal decisions and statutes to Michaelmas Term, I'2 and 13 Victoria, so thaCr. presents a complete mirror of the law as it actuallyi a at present. The work has been carefully revised and entirely re-printed throughout, and has now incorpo rated with _it the provi.ions of the Bankrupt Law Consolidation Act of last session, of the laws affect ingsteam-navigation, merchant Courts comp] le Arta, c t.s. commercial and shipping, pilotage, and emigrant passengers, and the present new been County added a diction ary of law terms, and an addenda T: much useful information pertaining to the fees of of the courts and law charges generally. lt is the most useful, the most comprehensive, and the most accurate popular digest of the laws of England that has ever been presented to the public. LIVERPOOL, SATURDAY .—,The royal mail steam ship Europe, Cuptsin Lott, left the Mersey this after noon for llahffx and New Yotk, with the semi monthly mails and u full e , mplument I f pamengers. She has a large cargo of and foreign manufac tured Goode. ASSYRIAN ANTIQUITIM—MajOr H. Itaw!ingot), the East India Compa ny's polit ica l agent i n T urkish Arabia, and her Majey's Consul at Bagdad, who bas lately arrived in this country from Bagdad, has brought with him a quantity of casts of Babylonian inscriptions, and also some packages containing figures rf stone and terracotta, being remains (f Assyrian antiquities; and they are intended to be deposited in the British Mu seum and ether scientific institutions of the metropolis; and as, from their extreme age and very delicate cha racter, they are liable to injury if unnecessarily dis turbed previously to being deposited at their destination, the Gallant Major has rs quested that the greatest care of them may be observed by the nuthoritier, and that they may be delivered for the Ableutilic PurPon mos" tioaed. , chequered career will, without doubt, be perused with I very general interest. Iler early years were apa. ' rently characterised chiefly by their sorrows. beautiful or attractive in childhood, although so pe culiarly ch Arming in after life, the quiet, sensitive girl was subjected to continual annoyance, and be fore sbe attained the age cf fifteen was com pelled F by her parents into a mar r i age w i t h Captain armer. the object' of her especial dread and dislike. After the death of her first hushband, and her marr i age with Lord Blessington, a cange come over the spirit of her dream. Wealth, pleasure, and admiration surrounded the fascinating Lady Blessington. In addition to tbis interesting memoir, " Country Quarters" is embel lished with a portrait of its authoress. It is hardly necessary to criti c i se or commend a work whic t h, on account of the p ecu li ar circumstances under which i makes its appearance, will be sure of a wide circuta• tion among novel readers. " Country Quarters" is without doubt a very delightful work, abounding with adventures, brilliant sketches, a n d li ve l y ca . ricatures. The style is graceful and easy, and the heroes and heroines numerous. The number of the dramatis persona to a certain extent diminishes the interest of the work by diffusing it in many di rections. We are not particul ar ly enthralled by the story of any one pair of lovers, that of the hero and heroine, par excellence, being of a very insipid character. But in default of this attraction each individual group is sketched off in a masterly, if somewhat exaggerated, style. 'We have one story of a wild Irish girl, who marries a simpleton for his money, and then, her heart touched by the kind welcome of his parents, she endeavours with wonder ful success to reform her husband, and so proves a blessing to the family. Again we read of two sisters who, after an anxions search, suc ceeded in obtaining rich husbands. The one finds the life of a wife to be almost worse than slavery, and the other very rarely catches a glimpse of her unsociable husband. Numerous little histories of a similar character, for the most part teaching some practical lesson, fill up the pages of " Country Quarters." Here and there are some beautifully pathetic touches, and in other places, as in the cha racter of the unnatural Lady Mordant, are specimens of very useless exaggeration. On the whole, how ever, " Country Quarters" abounds in matter of amusement, if deficient in subjects of very intense interest. It is a book likely to wile away an idle hour, or make a dull evening pass pleasantly. Its sketches of men and manners are in the main truthful, and in consequence may be studied with benefit. TIE