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

LLOYD'S S111.13PING—(T1118 ;) Wind at ncon S.S.W., fresh date atd qii.Aly and dull, aT we ther• CowE, brAN . w; p d . . - turn. ' • tALMOUTri UP -, b',.-AY. 2 7.---Wind F.Sl.—Acrd. Adolph, eAllaiatiuil; te7:lnl.‘ Ttlfa, t), from Liverpool; Maid ,flßtia Ilivuos Ayre7, or Bristol; Nut t de la Plata, dut y. thr Port, Gipsy, East Indies. 0 " 418 Ter, JAN'. 27.—Wind E. —A rrd. Zion, Mauritius. ff Pert, Emerald, ,c:t. John's, New Brunswick. at : ORT, JAN. 2 7.—The Mathilda, which took fire a wa, wcuttleil, has been raised; the fire did much Air a ;„. ~( I %vnE,__Arril. Magellan, China; Tiber, Trinidad. I) tunedChribtisn and aunt',,P Jemaica; Granville, Busts, Stmts. dn illit ' r 'llq), JAN. 2 7.—TLe Efirond•Ale, which was aliTn- CaTitfql 9th inst., after being in contact with the Talbot e 11er, was fallen in with 24th inst., 30 miles W. of th 34"8 totally dismasted and witterloggr.d. II r! ,14481 ' , JAN. 9 6.—The Argent, of Portaferry, is on rook at Strangford Louth. i Eliza eIYERPOOL, JAN. 2 7—Wind S.S.E.—Arr( . 1,1,11.448 m, Bewley, Rio Janeiro; Emma, Graham, Bahia; eallire'e, Ne wfoundland ; Reginald 1.1, , b.:.r and Palufte,e, %lee:4a; Countess of s ' Le ton and , ' Ttieod- Ronace Callao; Mary.. of4a, ]) Th 4 °f Scots Macao and Pernambuco; •- 1 1.11.1 ' Wh'itehaven Jau.nel ; Brazd Packet, St. le ° - , -.1 1 1 ,g ° ; Ciloniq, Savannah ; Isaac Crowell, Cha N rle. , - , t4lll,ls'lie, Grenade. Sid. Europa f,teamer, e tir• • Aahburton, Adeleict.-% South Australia . ; A l t , b , , „,.. - ; J u li a y Pepitg, llst,i.„ ll crica Ayres ; Era, iNeve3 , port, , r( Ill ; Thetis and Aberdeen New 1 ork. 01: Bl to p ~'allic Alelhuirdi. A boat marked Cbarle3, t 1 - ii'lle', has been picked up in the Channel. f 0 11 -3,REActr, JAN. 27. The Matthews brig, o ‘ f l, an n d . ar Sundeland, was driven on shore yesterday, . art ,, ,g (4.4111°1v-storm, and fills with t" . e tide, and the Vaal.. t, il le port lies on tl.e Bruihwork. in ELLs, JAN 2' rt bleu a heavy gale last oven "g• Th ' "."---- wreckers, and the W it t io e ßet'', ( f Lynn, Lai been . t hrow! ltne 81-ciaP, Wbketield to London, is on chore, and L, leg cargo overboard. to NIESTOFT, JAN. 27.—1 t blew a violent from N. d ud N •W• Yesterday, with a very heavy been sca g : le The Ann 4ai st 84 a, the Norham Castle, and the 11% e, have y a e ti ili disabled, having all been iu contact. ,t brew . 11 . 31 , °13 TH, JAN. 2 7.—The Rival, of 'A is :ea9l3, has Jess,—sistcd in with damage, from contact w it h the t , le, of London. *talls o Souti. 4TE, JAN. 2 7.—The Anna Maria, ( f and from ILO, Shields to London, was in contact yesterday kid t : i n ti g,_' off southw.id, a ith the Ben Nevis barqu', wi th '''K about noon; crew (except one man) b t trwo of the crew of the latter. drowned, from Isl,lt, JAN. 27.—1 t blew a severe gale, hi, w 44°5 1 ,111 , tO N.N.E., with heavy squalls.— The Joseph _ or , !te, Liverpool, got in contact, and proceeded b f L ad I 'vith daita The barque the Y liath • '' s Jamaica, was in supposed to o . co artne Barham, Lonoon to pr otect with the Naomi, London to China, and . irtd . - ' 1 to Portsmouth to repair - 1311 :el : ',P; . 1,1 40 111 , 11 , Milne, Calcutta; Royal Shepherdess, Co '‘,lbe r !rien: Callao; Challenger, Detnerara , ; ' rill'. ' "evf York. Std. Countess of Yarmouth, P . i , ,r t t ith,ll.); Cadrington, Antigua; Sir John Ra•:. Reid, b e . testi'et"Yli.Barham,Jamaica: Ivanhoe, Cubs, and th of th lisp,. eclitward bound. Arrd.Lndy Amher,r, Sydney, Atn e *°llth 'pules; M.ot.awk, China; Mary Shepherd& 00:;4,,_ Calcutta; Enterprise, Singapore; Vigilant,,n. 1,-14'roalilt;Eliza, Trinidad ; Moetreal, .C 4l h e a i rl b es l to ran , 0 4 . a ge, St. Jnfin's New Brunswick; A- .P h sail, 1 3 at • t -r at , o, t . avia for 4.A ' .nasterdani ; Rocklifl'e, Calcutta; it i , Q u u iv e e n r es A Ayres. ,Ararbd. Lambs, lrr•m the River and Blenos Ayres; ) 41., v o lk j' Sr, Vin cZ es; S l: id a . " Switz ?rland, New Yulk; "aeon';:te,,Calcutta; Harry, Mauriti•as; 4 l 'Pollo G r • 1. • u•,' - rn St Vincer t. London, Sierra „ 4,1 1 ,,,,,. ~ e, aa , _too , ' l'‘4l:lti, telr, JAN. 2 7.—The 0, - ,io, Newcastle t) COII.- uit 'it) le , has lzKen assisted in with some little damage, 4"'ecri on the Shipwash Sand. NI olisl!4, JAN. 2 7.—The wreck cf . a large vessel has 11 all':'re at Oxwer•t Bay. .... 44, ........___ NEWS.-(THIS DAY.) e()D ie , . ' l 'ol,,' EXC RAN GE-MONDAY. : t ritaf: °L ir own coasts, as well as by l ead we re -°f all articles of grain up to our market last land carriage, the -411 d were s mall. The receipts from Ireland a T nd ho Sc . o m t : Port, frost confined to a few parcels of Oats., of Wheat, 2 ,02 0 r9rn abroad amounted to 10,358 414%711,e4 tiltto of quarters of d W a t o of , Barley, 25 ditto of Oats. 2,317 i (0 974 ditto of Tares, 140 ditto of Rapeseed, s of t lee t °l sand y 2.56 sacks and 6,435 barre were 94 tv . r 411 e provincial ' markets held on Saturd t Plie t • 'or W heat, at droopingprices, although . a h y e sup ett on offer 14. pi„...,. were but F7I reie - a'e. In Spring Corn le ele vu • next to nothing was doing, A steady R.. ll , lla eltC in PP' lt"s to have been transacted in France and "Niti the Baltic ports, In tent um large Pia 10 1) on English account. quantities of Flour are repre hi ili u„ , are changed hands d e ir ed ' ‘ l3 Ns morning's marl; et, Al m , eoastwise from Essex and `. vet mo tile supply of Wheat Lent, was v y,,,, r e a e, b ut _ , , h. rid ,°t full average quality. . From w S e u re tto u i n i ~ -1411 gi'Saire 84c the receipts of the. grain . , We l Y 'trial' 13 " • i t ,' trill. • y land carriage and :ample the supply rlit'l e lug. Notr••th tvlding that the stands were c sorb 84PPliei, the demand far all kinds of Wheat f at a Jail in the ;111°1attierenduce ruled excessively heavy, 4 Pq 8 llained on this day s'rinig 1 parcels 1 4414dliol'ilttev, At the close of business severe 14 of from is to u ' t i C ttl e tl°s4llll . Very . few millers were in attendanc r e . ; A4e.,-rer reeellect to I lee seen so few.bakersp t4l,lllle°42inlir en any previous ‘ Monday.. The heaviness . v 4l of 4 , e Must he wholly attributed to the new s 3 a- Il t it 4 4 l y. " r ei h n e g, or rather . I a i h k o in ly g, French Flour pri to-day was large. to °Y 14°ign w heat OR s tolera'lly well, but rot 41,43444, su iaited we w ln ere many instances-sec was . akth,llratne hea P e l ) ,in the trade-prices ruled notni tootVlQ 41°114as uus but when ?ales took lace, atiotis as last week; l No tran w ra h ItkeltttiePhlntera gave W a a n y x f jo i a l s y t: i e s ile p r e 3 r . quarter, at which s ile4t wttei(t),rted in (leafing Ole of hence tho rivate ware- cargoes, f t tltt 5 hureirtation has been landed in p ' 5l. 8. 4.lhf b ot h English and . ti loo the supply 0 .41 (44 Berleyn„ was co parativdlv small, the trace witui tteiltaetloctilTna was heavy, m at a fill in value of is per q • li ea e, th J a moderate quantity of Malt . on show; never ilneqr. ° d eneand for both immediate and . forw . arddc ne A4blseteerrYicaitive,at barely - 07 e late decline in value. 1) 1 4 1 1 ritlitTitj scantily supplied with all kinds of Oats. held ty. late currencies. le 1111 end 3 Wer e mostly hearkr , otherwise out of condition Qua.se .ge supply, and w y de •Beans were in full avers White Peas , ere n 111 , and, at barely stationary price?. I.•%teointte ls per quarter lwer. i l kd n ia o n t Ng fra y busin • ' transacted. I dial I lioltdu ass % T s a h , demand fur Flour ruled very h C e o r rn h a in n d d s ',4 tr 4 . Ib• 444 dos desC.tiones e _o_n_Lo . wer terms. itteets....RENeY PEE IMPERIAL MEAU1t....... 565 to 58s ~, It jr,34. Kent, Malt-Chevalier • • and ",,Itt 4 , l ,` i ;LlN ow • • • • 37s to 44s Oats- Yorkshire h Fecd. 14i 16s .lorf ont a t, fl e a New 40s 48s I P A e n t c a ° to n • . 17s 22s IriDlttivtl• Red.... 35 , 39, youghal and Cork, _ _s 15i sh: htte ••• • • • 38s 435 81ack....... 43 Ith ui tto i 4 i i• e • .: :• • • 37s 41s tr t ke• F h eed. .... 18s 22 . : ite ..... 14s 168 Seri W G‘," ; '•• • ••• - 24: 2 2 ' 2 •; 11 3:11:14 ...*••• ••• 40s ‘i 4 .i's Beans-Tick .........245 T_' s Italtfo",ildin3• ••••• 18s 2is Peas-Grey ••• • • .• ;; :: 2 6 4 118, Pigeons ...... .... 2 2 5 8: 2 5 55 1/4,,tbtpatel: :• ••• • • • 23s 25s maple . s - Sua sut. ••• •• • 258 29i , k fol and Nor- ' i v a v c i ,i l l t e t r e s ... .. .. .. .. 275 305 .::::. -.. 265 27i .roltn::• ........ 53s Z6s Flour-Tor .. -m .. a . d . e .. ..... 3 3::, 15 s 3 4 3 0: kt4Bt°s;Zi:Slla; 4155 565 473 t u o fi c ° l4tn &Norfolk 30s 33s itt Th ° de mand SEED MARKET. din,iy heavy, Leos B.d„ ~ for Canary Seed is eecee „ . L 441514 •I 'ell°ll in the quotations of filly 2s per quarter. illc iait' i4l held at I ioue rates, with but moderate tl ' 4iii .37. le i° °ll •e' Se P ed e : exceedingly little business is reNkThavakes very dell. k„ Itc3l, l l ( te• Per btisb. lOs to 11s Itara, tro4reen.. • • lOs 12s te‘ r \l N;: i t 4 W 4 • : ••• • 95 12s zili 04 .rrr 'Winte r . • •• 3,1:1 ity, l •l3 e . ; ••••• • " • • 4s 4 3 6d (. 3 ,tri e , quarter .. 73s 82s ' ' l % Re 44, •• "•• • • • 205 24s lq ito -.11s• (cwt.) 34 s 48s 5 ' 0 4 84 1 1' 4 ' •••• :: • : 3 3 4 4 18 . s. • .... . 44 .. •• 32s 47s za , l4 •• •• • • 119 17s L. t,, 09 4i ti ,„ ~, ~44,1% aux:. LEA.DENittra._ikizilei meat i', l. th e ;" 'ne immense arrivals of coun ) caresses, chiefly lattoli markets last week (18,500 9 :1 1,, ' 1'31 4 ,1 1 , 11 1) °rIL) and the change in the weather, the her e h de mand 'as lede tremely heavy, and ces -`' We:- 4pupyriwardrutendenxey The su ki-e " in the metropolis have been but moderate. pplies of Meat h, At Per stone by the Carcase. ~..s-Le,/,,,0r...... 8 d. to s. . s. d. to s. d. 2 8 2 10 .. `..... '',,'cldli g • .... ; .1 2 Mutton , inferiorm.c. ~... 3 0 a 2 %. 0 1-) / • Irn el : t r g e • • 3 " 2 t 04 -- prime i ' • 6 . •• 3 4 R 33 64 .....!:41411.• 3 4 3 6 Pork, large ••••• • ' • 2 2 ; 3 4 2 '"• • 3 4O small •••••• • • ' - b • tut ut `ng ~ rarrurxELD. in tone r , as ' week the to 1, 1 imports of fureign stock ,a.rne cwriod 111 18 4 ° 9 11 - --g P ' --ti e ' e lv I,o77 ‘ . bead. 11 t the correspond and during the eir o „, e el t , i ll , ~ . we received 854, 5 h uld the weather o rk , ut kild, yet ' E 3, 407 head. . ng large supplies will reach us in the 1. Ik1,041: ( )Stec, :i ll 11:1423, .tCO LONDON IN Tim PAST NWEEK. Pigs 8 Chw et i."..... 3 - 's' Sheep. Lambs. i6o Calves. _ Niee b ln gere, ''' •• 231 ... - - '''" - haw ' e l' ... 1 s ' s ••• irl eja ..... 6 6 6 . .., to11:°t41 - wet:l4(li; 231 411 8 , .. 'ale we , '',.. la 9 A 448 e ' la 441 ti t " ...... 120 . Nell e 11°11ern ' 2i 1 .. .- fro til • At f., 6 utkoutports the arrivals have Leen very come 'Porto. ° -winapton 110 oxe_ri n ~ have been landed 11 f r- t . ll liana Li , Y Sea, from . Irela e 35 Oxen have twepi ',4,olrect for this market. The supply 41 . V p l c took 6 -ere tc-Jay--amongst which were „ till ,n fro m s - very small, Ar, sh till i nt r, pain-was and of mid eo UP fr o , I°r quality. The . receipts cf Beasts, .%4e;ls''''' our "El grazino. districts were . o . n t t h o e_ iiatlll. -,..t !east a moiety of them were greatly n o o u ffer t tee e e `eg ete v'ely,ng to the large supply of Meato rui r eti ts thi s n Ti o a J.. eidenhall markets, the attendance f. tia 4 4 o f 414 ot.,!Xtre ttel r _u 1 , g., Was limited ; he nee t •nstanceF, the titur.‘ob, 11,2 nuctivo, Iva', in sorre r i , nmos. I'l4 for had a downward tendency. Ihe to,_ t 4i,ecll, Buzoitrireest Scots was 48. per 81 . bs, .I.rome -4orth 4130nt I,B o ,, t s,scx, and CambridgeSh-lre we ther pf t n 0111 ditstrieteus boo,ts and Shortehe'erns ; from Bce' Pnd' 711011er5°f and and from other pa s r t t s s , lt°4ll ti t he de short-horns; Ill'utB' Devons, Irish B ver y , dee tana f g , e numbers of Sheep were again ea ina very sett, o, _ , or that deecription e f stack was - ale4 t ll 3' oe e5i...7,201ne of the ieferior breeds sold with C alve s 1113 4in0,i - ' e lm°. The primest old Downs were he ob s wer e on at. 43 to 4s 2d per Sibs. Scarcely any 4 ? Itt b itrel '"or ; nevertheless the sale for t'..em was . Y stationery priets, In pigs, the supply Carraway ...... ••• • .. 303 34s Coriander ....• •• • • 163 21s Benipseed, per quarter 32s 35s Linseed, Eng,. ;owing 54s 563 Cru,liing •••. • • • • 40s 43s Baltic •• .. 38s 448 Odessa . Linseed Cake, pr.l,ooo— .. • • . 81 5s 915 s Foreign, per ton 6/ Os 7110 s Rape Cakes, pr ton 41 Os 41 4s Rapeseed, New, prlst 3ul Os 3310 s •-• 676 ... -- ... 170 .. -- '• • 616 - ... 79 ... ._ Tr efoil, lett:lag Rai d&ng, at late oF which was small, next to rates. Interior Beasts..... Second qua) , ty -• . • crime !arge Oxen.. ['rime Scots .. • • . • bn.rge coar. , ..)(;elves Prinrcsmali ditto .. 1) ckling Calves .. : Inferior Sheep Nl' 811)s. to s s. .to s. d . s. 0. to s. d 3 u 3 4 Second qual. Sheep 3 2 3 4 3 6 3 8 Corse-woo , lecldittc G 3 6 3 8 370 Southdown Nether 3' 0 4 2 3'o 4 0 Dia(' eat o; the wooi 0 0 0 0 3 4 3 8 Large hogs •• • •• 3 4 3$ 3 !A) 4 0 : , inall Porkers •••• 3 10 4 2 !8 0 24 0 Quartos o!d Pigs .. !6 0 22 0 210 3 0 Lambs 0 0 0 Beasts. 3,521 ;ink the offal. TOTAL SUPPLY Beasts. 46 I Stictp. 16,'•,70 FOREIGN I Sheep. 120 AT MARKET. Calves. 85 surrLv. I rigs. 210 Calves. 49 Fi g s. nonouGa AND SPITALPIELDS. The imports of Foreign Potatoes into London last week were only 137 tons from Havre, 42 ditto from Dunkirk, 70 ditto from Royer, and 90 ditto from Ant werp. Coastwise the receipts have not exceeded 1,000 tons, and those by land carriage have fallen off to some extent. As these mat kets have been very scantily stir plied since our last report, the salesmen have succeeded in obtaining higher prices for all kinds of Potatoer. Present rates are not expected to be supported. Per Ton. I Per Ton. • York. Regents 115 s to 1205.1 Common Whites COs to 70s Ditto Sha — ws —s to --s Scotch Regents 95s to I(ss Kent Kidneys ... Essex Regents ... StO -8 •S tO .--8 Ditto Simll's -s to - s Ditto Kidneys to ---s French Whites ... FO5 to 9Cis Ditto Reds —8 to —8 Belgian Whites... 75s to 80s Dutch Whites ... sto s Ditto Red 5........ s to s German ditto ... 60s to 851: Ditto min;aups 8;ls to 9O Ditto Buffs —s to s Blues ..—....... sto s Pink Eyes ... sto s Lincoln.negents. I lOs to I!ss Wisbeach ditto 100 s to 110 s Otto Kidneys .. —s to s Newcastle Regts. 95s to 105 s BOXOUGEL nOP DT.5.77-MET. Since otiT:liTit report our market has been in a very inactive state for all kinds cf Hops, the supply ( f which is comparatively small. To effect larger sales, a decline of from 2s to 3s. per cwt in the quotations must be sub mitted to by the factors. The imports into London last week were 125 bales from Ostend, and 3 ba!es from Baltimore. Present rates as under:—New Mid and East Kent pockets, 61 Gs to 111 12s ; new Weald of Kent ditto, 6/ 3s to 6/ ; new Sussex ditto, 51 103 to 6/ 12a ; Farnhams, 121 to 131; yearling Kent, 31 to 41 105; yearling Sussex, 21 8s to 31 15s ; old Hops, 11 to 3115. WOOL. The supply of Colonial Wool on offer in the private contrivq markct 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 uct sell, except at very fill prices. The transactions in English Wools are by no means extensive. The au!ounts . _ troin the manufacturing districts are considered favour hie; 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 f•om Dunkirk; 14 ditto from Callao; 127 from Alexandria; 117 from Buenos Ayres; 52 from O.tend; 660 from New Zealand; 240 from Sydney; 91 from Arica; 69 from Smyrna; 1,203 from Ismid; and a few parcels from Ireland. TALLOW. Our market for nll kinds of Tallow rules heavy at drooping price-. Te-day very little business is doing in P. Y. C. on the spot, at 39s to 38s 6d per cwt. Fur forward delivery, say up tl the end of March, the near est quotation is 38s 9d; and new Tallow may be had up to the c!ose of the year at 40s 3d per cwt. Town Tal low, 38s 6d per cwt nett cash; Rough Fat,2s 2d per Fibs. Le tors from St. Petersburgh state that 5,000 casks of Tallow bad change I hands, at 106 roubles, with 10 down. 1819. 1646. stock this day •• .. •. ! 22,426 Price of Y. C. • 42s 3d • .. [ to 42s Gcl Delivery last week 1,385 Ditto from June 63,102 ivals last week . 178 Ditto from June 1 ...I 76,840 'rice of Town —.•— 1 43s 6d 1847. I 1848. 1 15,159 16,3•41 36,567 51,1 3d 47s Gd 140 s Od to to Os Od . to 47s 9dl 4! , 8 (id 42,145 ' 393 Cd do3Ss Gd 1,811 3,221 1,906 2,363 63,780 13,580 70,030 65,i FS 552 851 2,066 68,676 81,809 99,385 82,560 533 00 52s 00 411 s Od 41s 00 BOW-STREET.--(THIS DAY.) A rrspectAbly-attired min, named Calligham, 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 heard a noise in Short's•gardens, and on going there he found a mob assemb'eJ, and the prisoner knocking violently at No. 6. The landlord ef the house rdased 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 atop to his proceedings, and tried to induce him to go quietly away to the station. Instead of doing so, however, he became very abusive, kicking the officer in th© private part of his body several 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 bullet through the officer's head when he got out again. Mr. HALL—What are you, prisoner? Prisoner—l am a butcher. _ _ Mr. HALL—WeII, what have you to say to the charge? Prisoner—Why, the policeman treated me bhamefully, and the people in the house destroyed a suit of clothes of mine worth 51. Mr. HALL—But tbat would be no justification fcr 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, bo!ieving that you were not- sufficiently conscious to know what you were doing when you as saulted the officer, I shall commit you for fourteen days only. _ The prisoner was then removed. A STIR IN THE NEWS 'CHANGE, CATHERINE STREET.—A respectably-attired man was charged In fore Mr. Henry under the following circumAlnces : Police-constable F 109 deposed that he w a,s on his feat in Catherine_-street on Saturday last, about five o'clock in the aft?rnoon, when his progress was inter rupted by the mob of boys and men who congregate on the right •hand side of the street, for the purpose of ex cl.auging 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 eas one of these, and on the constable expostulating with him, he positively refused to go off, when the ethers who ha I gone into the road returned to the pavement, and seemed deter mined to remain there. The sergeant also spoke t) the prisoner, but he resolutely refused to go off the pave ment. They were 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 and boys. Mr. HENRY said that it was an intolerable nuisance both t) the inhabitants and those who had occasion to pass through Catherine. street in the ufternoor. 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 40s. 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 aAain. The prisoner imtned'aely gave the required promise and was discharged, amid the congetalationi of his numerous friends, who crowded the court, aaxious hear the judgment. CORONER'S INQUEST (THIS DAY).—This forenoon, at tin o'clock, a jury was impanelled before Mr. Bedford, c rover for Westminster, at the Hanover Picture Gal lety, No. 33, George-street, Hanover-square, on view of the body of Mr. Henry F. Artaria, the late proprietor, who committed suicide by the fumes of charcoal. The Coroner, with the jury, having seen the body and the rcom in which the melancholy act was committed, re ceived the following evidence:—Mr. Angelo C. kiayter, a relative of the deceased, No. 14, Berners-Areet, 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 deceived, said that deceased had appeared strange for some time past. About a month ago he directed witness not to go into the room where the body was found. A fortnight after he asked evilness for some paste. The room was used to repair and varnish pictures, On Thursday last about noon deceased, ou 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." FRENCH CLAIMS.—Qn Saturday a Parliamentary raper was printed, in pursuance to an order of the House of Commons made at the close of the late session, for a return of unsetqed demands on the funds provided by the Government of France for liquidating the claims of British sul jects, and d 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 appui Lion 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. enry Ber l ke 4 l 9 y . e . , and is nearly the last moved fur in the session of 8 Lieutenant-General Sir W Gomm, K.C.B. (the late Governor of tho Mauritius), arrived in London on Saturday evening, accompanied by Lady Gomm and sulte, from S out h ampton, where the gallant General, fter a long abzence from his native country, disem barked on Saturday morning from the steamer from Alt xandria. REDUCTION OF WAGES BY THE GOVERNMENT IN THE NEW FortEsT.—Tho wages t f the day-men have been reduced from 128. to 10g. per week; the old day men have from 12g. to Cs. per week; and the tut men, who male up faggots (oak at 3-. 60. pur hundred, and pine at 2 ,- . 60. per hundred), are all thrown out of work. Fly this economy, 66,000 acres a land arc i..xpected to pay their expenses. It is fur:Ler proposed to reduce the number of groom-kt-T eers from fifteen t o twelve; and the thr ' ee last vat:apcies have not been filled up._ Gloucester Journal. LITE R ATITItE. SILIVO OD. A Novel in Two Volumes. Bentley. Always to us there is an iaf. xpressible charm in tha perusal . f a " first work," a fascination in ob serving the earliest venture o'" ;a writer concealing a meritorious timidity under th!: mask of the anony mous. Our pleasure in the. examination of these volumes has been of this agreeable character. For it would be impossible not to leecognise the ardour of youth, and the eloquence of an unjaded ambition, in a narrative like " Silwood," a nar-:ative which is, never thelesq, to a very remarkable degree, devoid of the crudeness of unpractised or iumnature abilities, and of the errors usually attendant upon literary inexpe rience. Whatever may be thought of the facilities of composition, there are two diEculties encountered at the outset of the labours of authorship, one or other of which almost invariably precludes the passibility of complete success at the couirm:ncement. And these obstacles to the preliminary triumphs of the litera teur principally manifest their iirifluence in his style— sometimes in the mode of th ought, sometimes in the mode of expression, in nine hundred and ninety-nine casesout of every thousand in be^t a together. With every young writer, generally speakiLug, his mode of expres sion is marked either by its povi :rty or its turgescence; it runs on the one hand into tl ie :ngzes of untutored • fluency, or on the other becoi ens cramped into a hard and scholastic distortion. His mode of thought, at the same time, betrays a predi, lection either for exces sive particularity or excessiwe generalization ; it leaves, on the one hand, notliing to the fancy of the reader, or, on the other, abawlons everything to the scope of his imagination. In this mariner the aspirant for literary honours, in the majority of instances, discovers only when such a diitcovery is altogether too late, that his style has glided, into the school-bred meanness reprobated by Arist atle, or into the school . bred grandiloquence condernr.ied as emphatically by the lips of Longinus. What. is of equal importance, moreover, he hazards, in so ch d:ag, an exclusive appeal either to the esoteric or the exoteric sympathies of the population. Having read. " Silwood" as we recd 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 if, namely, with a scrupulous attention to these initiatory requirements, we can most cordially 'elicitate the w author on ha7ing entirely escaped from the commission of: faults al - most in evitably incidental to tI te first adventure in the craft of penmanship. Throughout, the chap . ters are written in a toile o.f sustained earnestness, the descriptive passages breath ing the fervour of en thusiasm, and the reflective fruallies being conveyed in language singularly terse a aid sententious. Occa sionally, indeed, the novelist , carries his brevity of expression even to quaintness,, as where, speaking f the evil influence of a first st* p in crime, he says (1., 41.), " once is a precedent;" or as where, in another place, he designates the conte)nporary time " the an. tiquity of posterity." Else wh sr e, borne along by the en-rgy of his inspirations, his. voice rises into a prt.- longed strain of real and unaffected eloquence, in apo4rophies to fame, to love , ';o beauty, to death, and to that heroic spirit which he rigards as the desired vitality of this age of utilitari;tui m. 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 )u r criticism—we mean the general merits or blernish.as of the whole compo sition._ Viewed es a mere irrative story, " Sil wood " possesses the excellence of exciting, a- most from the opening pap •es, the interest of the reader. The plot of tne story must be pronounced to be most admirably ingenious. E realises in a .very vivid net .nner 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 Purpose 3." In evidence of this we may remark, without:. in any way damaging the interest of the novel by an urratimely eclaircissentent, and thereby materially injuring its principal attrac tion, that the heroes and hero' iles of " Silwood" (no less than six in number collectively) are entangledin a web of misapprehension as to the love entertained towards each other. It is from our sense of the adroit ness with which these equivt#l.tes of passion, as we may term them perhaps not in appropriately, 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 cf misunderstandings, and in the final clearing up of all these Trumberless misappre hension=, towards the denouenzel it 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 " Silwood." We shall expect from his hfilais the fulfilment of our prediction, awl in its fulfil!' tent we shall hail right cordially the progress and enin alcement of his reputa tion. Among the different ci , aracters introduced to our notice in the present effus on 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 hest 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 successhelly delineated. The mere notion of a temperament, like that of Julia Maitland is one entitled to deep sznd delightful con templation ; but the power with which the ideal has been sustained throughout, so as to render her every word, though', 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 knigiat-representative of the shire of Buckingham, kindred to him in his showy abilities and volatile enthusiasm, and only lacking resemblance where the fowler is spoken of as a votary of the muses of poetry. Gordon, although less artistically pencilled, is neve:theless 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 roue; Mr. Agendale, the " fine old country gentleman ;" Mr. 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. With 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 story runs alternately, or rather intermittently, into the 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 Silvve.od we take to be one of the most prominent features a 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 be 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 giving the following admirable pero ration of that description, perhaps one of the most felicitous passages in the two volumes : " The hour came at last !it was a calm andi tranquil evening, the balmy breath of summer floated in through the open lattice, perfumed with the iich 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 firewell look, no dying adjuration, and no last prayer; all was calm, all was holy, as that twilight hour, as that summer eve. She had been talking, no cf old of ' peace,' and while the words yet echoed in the air, while the thrilling me lody of her voice 3t t lingered in the ears of her list eners, her Eprrit broke the last faint shackle of mor tality, and ascended to the realms where peace reigns for ever. Time passed as they gazed on that fair young crea ture, who had left the dominiors of time for ever. Sud denly Silwood rase, and drew back the curtain that par tially concealel her, and the rich flood of golden light poured in upon the scene, suffusing :t with r.ll the splen dour of the setting sun, and the lust beams of day flung a crowning halo over the dead, embalming her sanctified loveliness. The change had taken place—what change? What was it philosophet - ? the end t f this fitful scene, the closing act in He's vain drt am. What wa9 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 reveale,l, and thu palge of salvation urfold,:d? It was a brighter and a better work, the transfer cif the immortal to its indigen ous Leaven; the transit of the redeemed to its beatified / C.( home. It was a higher and a holier thing, the soul's admission to its native skies, the spirit's ascent to its kindred angels." Elsewhere it is observed by our novelist (11. 15 .), in the noble language of consolation, "the extinction of our little lamp of life will be 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 pastry 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 what 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 its 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 emb ue d invariably with polemics, and bristling at all points with argument, irritating, pregmatic, and controversial. No moral could be indicated by any fiction more lolty or more hu manizieg than the one conveye d i n " 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 ia homage in th e d esert, and where t h e Chris tian looks for the doomsday apparition of the Mes shill coming in the m id st of the clouds o f h eaven with great pomp and ma j esty, attended by innumer able legions of the be a tifi e d. T o no sect ind i v id ua ll y, to no creed exclusively, is the religious portion of the narrative addressed, but to all those who believe in the divinity of the Nazarene, to all those who read the Book of Book; with th e reverence of f a i t h an d 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 bo 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." . Referrin g y e t once more to the ingenious '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 ernbarras,sments 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 ou t hope, in which no appeal to the kindest friends can soothe or cheer; the course of true love never did rue smooth,' was fully exemplified in all the characters concerned in this narrative,. Wh e .. tber we tu rn t o G or d on i n hi s wild anguish of untutored grief ; to Flo rence i n h er p ass ionate despair; to Jes s i e wishwi, her grief effaced by t; , ars; to Julia with her calm endurance veilin g a b r oken heart; to Silwood in his ftloomy solitude, where many a vain struggle was made to bury hi s a ff ec ti on i n th e mine of study; to Ross . in his sorrowful It( firemen", where every touch of his lyre, woke the echo es o f h a ppi e r times, tne glimpse of better days—all, alike were miserabl , l" 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 should be consulted for any desired expla nation. Before our present criticism is brought to a conclusion we would redeem a promise its given at commencement, by directing more particular atten tion than we have done hitherto to those more dis cursive and at the same time more reflective chapters 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 author gives utterance to some of his cherished thoughts upon LITERARY CELEBRITY. " An author ! that magic word ! what thoughts are therein contained, whet dreams c f daring and of hope what glimpses cf genius and ef glory I what dazzling visions cf entrancing bliss 1 what thrilling spells of fee tere ecstacy, the heavenly vista of a Godlike genius, 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 ices, that when rolling ages shall have swept over our decaying dust, our works shall still remain, instinct with the beauty of trutb, bright with the fire of genius. And who that ever wrote but felt that thrilling thought? And who that .o'er composed but bailed that bright idea? The hope, although without the faith, the ideal that 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 fa no ? To be an au thor treats to be something higher, nobler than the rest of all mankind, not better, not more beloved, for all arc. t e i ci n u y a u l s in s a !ion and onffese(fu, God dan a eh and heirs hei a r r the se of fH s e a s ree veng;loiou the ef s dg future o must be equal, but for the present, ohildren of genius hold a higher rank, for are they not entrusted with their Maker's spirit in a more sublime degree? and are they nut depositaries of Ills prerogative in a more holy sense? For think what gifts a - e theirs, cut of whose shining genius are emitted flames that inspire with vital sparks inanimate creations, out of whose burning eloquence are given tongues to fancied forms and airy nothings,' by whose creative powers are peopled the realms of ima gination; by the waving 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 itself, that all acquaintance with its inhabitants has ceased? We Fare 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 we feel a sort of lingering fondness fin: the images, as mir rored in the glass of memory. Is it then nothing to be able to create out of nonenti ty th e b eau id ea l that 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 vibrate sweetest pleasure in congenial spirits, attuning with their thrilling melody all kindred instincte, all exalted sentiments, joining all souls in sym pathy, blending all hearts in unison, ennobling the im mortal, immortalizing the noble, raising mortals to heaven, calling angels to earth! And what though it is sweet to think, t hat what he now is writing shall be read by future sons and daughters yet unborn,' who shall inhabit kingdoms Yet to come , w h en cen t ur i es shall have swept away; th ough it is thrilling, exquisite delight to hail the enraptured vision, to contemplate the seraphic picture; who does not think that it is yet some glory bright as inco mprehensible, that it is yet some greatness immaculate, as inconceivable, to be extolled by beings now existing, to be enshrined in hearts now beating with the pulse of life; no vulgar praise, no syco phantic serenade, synonymous. with ''shallow sophisms,' no lofty paeans sound his name, but myriad beings who have read and understood him are his laudatory, his best acclaimers, his most perfect panegyrists. This is pure fame, t ry, glorioushisisreal in itshonou nerg, rtehaitsisss.see truer k en own, great in yes a esmgl sPirants, for the l aurels of the Nine gln this, allit,and rolling centuries and passing generations but complete your triumph; tried in the furnace of truth, tested by the tombstone of time, lo! it survives till unborn mil lions shall, in embryo tongues, declare its immortality." Here, again, is his impassioned panegyric upon his agency ; LOVE. " The master pa ss i on of tilt human heart now exer cisedinfused his i m p u l se; the great so vereign of man's ac the ruling s irit of the human race Cons now seized th e a dd ed unit to hi s m yriad subjects. What was the p ass i on? Wh i c h the spirit? Who the sovereign? Love ! L ove ! w ord of wonder, hope and joy who shall d e fi ne thy mystic spell? who shall ex plain thy pot en t i n fl uence ? i t is an object too vast for human intellect to comprehend, a subject too sublime for human imagination to descry; and yet upon its per fect comprehension there depends the welfare of the world; within its imagery of glory is comprikel the happiness of all its denizens. Who then shall deter mine the offspring of that spirit, the source of all our sorrow, the spring of all our joys? who shall expand its hidden workings, who reveal its covert acts? It is con cealed, but it is by a veil of glory; it is enveloped, but it is by a cloud of rolling splendour. It is shrcuded by sanctity, enrolled in eternity, a secret of the Most High, a divine my s t er y. We aro permitted hero to feel its sorrow, that hereafter we may des e rv e to know its bliss; we sre to end ure the anguish of its fading below, that we may be pe r f ec t e d to rejoice in its immortality above. Whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, are liable to be abused, reviled, and misinter preted; even so with Love; sublime and holy spirit, im mutable and burning essence, to what debasing influences would they lower thee, with what defi l ing images pollute thee! . _ " Alas, for human nature, ever prone to call good evil, evil good; that this antepast of heaven; this antetypo of God; this emanation of eternal mercy; this day-spring of immortal glory, should be co n founded with the meanest of all worldly passions,and cla sse d w i t h t h e lowest of all grovelling instincts ! Much sh a ll h ave you to answer for; assumers, if i gnorant ; sacrilegious, if in formed; who dare to sully i ts fair fame—vvlio deem t o judge its innate purity. It is not an y sentiment, how ever bright and beaming with vitality, however great and glorious with light, that we would designate by thi s most sacred of denominations, this most su bli me 4 ,f images. It is the feel in g of faith; hope in its highest, holiest state; charity in its perfected essence; the majesty of heaven; the humility of earth; a blendi ng power; a concentrating spirit; tending to better, aspi r i ng to no b ler. This is Love! Love, as we would have it ca ll e d ; L ove, as wo would hero invok e it. V 6 h at are its d o i ngs ? W hat iteattributes? What its essent ials? Its doi ngs are ma eeace.eyFry heart th a t b eats beings j t o i y n . every see ymoiundsoamt peace; happier than the rest, more favoured than the common h er d ; L ove is theirinforming spirit; . 1 ove i s their abiding instinct; Love their tutelary divinity; Love their guardian angel; its attributes are peace on earth, nook'.-will towards men; its essentials are, entire sympathy, complete devotion, perfect trust. 46 Who would believe, that la this spirit, so winOß. calved, so perverted, and, again, so ridiculed, there is `contained all this world's happiness or misery, all the next world's hope c f glory? It is the spirit that in the esrlier ages of this earth occasioned its redemption; may we trust that it shall in these latter days complete its regeneration? Carried to sublimity in heaven, it ef fected man's salvation; raised to perfection in leis heart, 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 prospects of a golden youth; in the influence that smooths the rugged world of poverty, and adorns the flowery path of riches; in the power that transf ,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, beings instinct crith beartity; 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 of 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 Redec:ner; it is stamped with tie superscription and the sign -manual of Heaven ! Do you ask its illustrious votaries, and grand apostles? We give yeu the highest of all examples; the example a One, Who, although he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor;' Who left the excess of that happiness, no mortal can understand, fur the extent of that anguish, no mortal can irnagint'.' a "llere, in fine, is the opening of an culogium (too long for unmutilated transcription) upon that senti ment which is truly declared to be most wanting to the present generation. JANUARY 28, 1850 time ;" Captain Claret, the lieutenants, two young lieutenants nick-named Seivagee end Mad Jack, the former r, counterpart cif " Sporus," the latt(fr a thorough sailor, who, in :7 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 variety ; foremost of these is Jack Chase. Here 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 men ever had a better heart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen, and admired by the officers; and even when the Capt tin spoke to him, it was with a slight air of re spat. Jack was a hack and charming mac. "No one could be better company in a forecastle or saloon; no man told such stories, sang such songs, or with grater alacrity sprang to his duty. Indeed, there was only one thing mnting about him, and that was a finger of his left hand, which finger he had lust at the great battle of Navarino. "He had a high conceit of his profession as a seaman; and being deeply versed in all things pertaining to a man.of-war, was universally regarded as an oracle. The main-top, over which he presided, was a sort of Delphi, to which many pilgrims weended, to have their per plexiCcs or ditferencc-s settled. " Thore 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 him, in the frigate; and from the oats 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 b:s heart, too often the case with soft palms. His manners were easy and free; none of the boisterousness, so common to tars; and be bad a polite, courteous way e f 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 hqs 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 bf!artily and entirely agree : "According to the present laws and usages of the Navy, a seaman, for the most trivial alleged offences, of which he may be entirely innocent, must, without a trial, undergo a penalty the traces whereof he carries to the gave; for to a man-ef-war's-man's experienced eye the marks of a navel 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 dis honour; though, to abase and hurl down the last pride of some sailor rho has piqued him, be sometimes the secret motive, with some malicious officer, in procuring him to be condemned to the lash. But this feeling of the innate dignity remaining untouched, though out wardly the body be scarred for the whole term of the natural life, is one of the bushed things, buried among the holiest privacies of the soul ; a thing between a man's God and himself; and for ever undiseeriaible by cur fellow-men, who account that a degradation whicn seems so to the corporal eye. But what torments must thA seaman undergo, wha, while his bask bleeds at the gangway, bleeds agonized drops of shame from his soul! Are we rot justified in immeasurably denouncing this thing? Juiu hands with me, then; and in the name of that Being, in whose image the flogged sailor is merle, let us demand of Legislator;, by whet right they there profane what God himself accounts sacred. " Is it lawful fir you to scourge a man that is a Re man? asks the intrepid Apostle, well knowing, as a Roman citizen, that it was nor. 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-wan. Depra vity in the oppressed is co apology for the oppressor; but rather an additioral stigma to him, as Leing, in a large degree, the effxt, and not the cause and justifica tion of oppressicr. " Or will you ray Oat a navy officer is a min, but that an American-born citizen, whose grandsire may have ennobled him by pouring out his blood at Bunker-bili— will you say that, by entering the service of his coun try as a common sean al, and standing ready to fight her foes, he thereby loses his manhood at the very time he most asserts i.? Will you say that, by so doing, he degrades himself to tLe liability of the scourge, but if he tarries ashore in the time of danger, he is sof,' from that indignity? All cur linked states, all font cot tinents cf mankind, unite in deocuncing such a thought. " We plant the question, then, on the topmost rrga melt cf all. Irresrective of incidental considerations, we assert that flogging in the navy is opposed to the es sential (Egli ty of man, which no legislator bris a right to violate; that it is oppressive, and glaringly unequal in its operations; that it is utterly repugnant to the rpirit of our democratic inst;t miens; indeed, that it involves a lingering trait of the worst times of a barbarous feudal aristocracy; in a word, we denounce it es religiously, morally, and immutably wrong. " No matter, then, what may be the consequences of its abolition; no matter if we have to dismantle our fleets, and our unpra-cted commerce should fall a pray to the spoiler, the azfol admonitions cf justice and hu manity demand that abolition without procrastination; in a voice that is nut to be mistaken, demand that abo 'Won to-day. It is not a dollar-and-cent question of exteliency; it is a matter f right and wrong. And if any man can liy his li,nd on his heart, and solemnly 'ay that this scourging is tight, let that man but once feel the lash on his own back, and in his agony you will Le:tr the apostate call the seventh heavens to witness that it is wruiiy. And, in the name cf immortal manhood, would to God that every man who upholds this thing were ^courkel at the gangsay 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 fellow the example of England in the following magnificent exordium, some passages of which are eminently truthful, and some are inflated with a little Yankee vanity : " In tl.ings of this kind England should be nothing to us, except un example to to shunned. Nor should wise legislators wholly govern themselves by precedents, and conclude that, since scourging has so long prevailed, some vit tue must reside in it. Not se. The world has arrived at a period which renders it the part of Wisdom to pay homage to the prospective precedents of the Fu ture, in preference to those of the Past. The Past is dead, 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 fee of mankind; the Future is, in all things, cur friend. In the Past is no hope; the Future is both hope and fruition. The Past is the text-book of tyrants; the Future the Bible of the Free. Those who are solely governed by the Past stand like Lot's wife, crystallizol in the act of looking backwards, and fur ever incapable of looking before. " Let us learn the Past, 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 tain to rule over us—that captain who ever marches at the head of his troop, and beckons them forward, not lingering in the rear, and impeding their march with lumbering baggage waggons of old precedents. This is the Past. " But in many things we Americans aro driven to a rejection of the maxims of the Pa-t, seeing that, ere long, the van of the nations must, of right, belong to ourselves. There are occasions when it is for America to make precedent, and not to obey them. We should, if possible, prove a teacher to posterity, insteal of be ing the pupil of bygone generation'. More shall come after us than have gone before; the world is not yet middis-aged. " Escaped from the house c f bondage, Israel of old did not follow after the ways of the Egyptians. To her was given an express dipensation; to her were given new things under the sun. And we Americans are the pe culiar, chosen people—the Israel of our time; wo bear the ark of the liberties of the world. Seventy years ago we escaped from thrall; and, besides our first bit thright —embracing one continent of r arth—God has given to as, for a future inheritance, the broad domains of the political paeans, that shall yet come and lie down under the shade of 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 thingF, 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 Lotions have but lisped, our deep voice is heard afar. Long enough have we been sceptics with regard to ourselves, and doubted whether, indeed, the political Messiah had come. But he has come in us, if 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 history of earth —national selfishness is unbounded philanthropy; for we cannot do a good to Americo, 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 nature of White-Jacket's rev e l a ti ons Among the headedcontents. p of the second volum e are chapters ters thus 'Purser, Purser's Steward, and Postmester in a I\, ` lan-uf-War —Rumours of a War, and how they were received by the population of the Newersink.— The ' people' are given liberty.—Midshipmen enter ing the navy early.—A shore emperor on board a inan•of-war.—A quarter-deck officer before the mast. —A man-of-war button divides two brothers.—A man-of-war's man shot at.—A man-of-war race.— Fever in a man-of-war. —White-Jacket arraigned at the mast.—Tbe maintop at night. —The last stitch.— How they bury a man-of-war's 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 Blessing ton. 3 l'a/s. Prefixed to this novel is a biography of its gifted and lamented authoress, from the pen of her niece, Miss rower. This narrative of LAdy Blessington's chequered career will, without doubt, be perused with very general interest. her early years were appa rently characterised chiefly by their sorrows. Not beautiful or attractive in childhood, although so pe culiarly charming in after life, the quiet, sensitive girl was subjected to continual annoyance, and be fore she attained the age of fifteen was com pelled by her pa ren t s i n t o a marr i age with Captain Farmer, the object of her especial dread and dislike. AfLer the death of her first husband, and her marriage with Lord Blessington, a change come over the split of her dream. Wealth, pleasure, an d a d m i ration surrounded the fascinating Lady Bl ess i ngton. In addition to this interesting memoir, " C ountry Quarters " is embel lished with a portrait of its au th ores .. It is hardly necessary to criticise or commend a work which, on account of the pecul iar c i rcumstances under which it makesits appearance, will be sure of a wide circula tion among novel read ers . " Country Quarters " is without doubt a very delightful work abounding with adventures, brilliant sketches, and lively 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 particularly 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 ii sketched off in a ma s t er l y, if somewhat exaggerated, style. We have one st ory of a wild Iri s h g irl, 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 hushentl, and so proves a blessing to the family. Again we read of two sisters who, after an anxioes 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 end ther e are some beautifully pathetic touches, and in other places, as in the cha racter of the unnatural Lady Mordant, are specimens of very useless exeggeration. On the whole, how ever, " Country Quart e r s " a b oun d s in matter of amusement, if deficient in subjects of vary intense interest. It is a hook 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. THE SEA-SPIRIT AND OTHER P0.E.2115. By Mrs. 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 tyro' long, green pathways blow; Gay woods are there whose verdure doth not fade, And fountains cf delight sing softly in the shade. And there he dwells, end there the midnight stars Look down on him I,ko 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 hushed ; as if the storm could never wake them more. And yet the unresting as of outwsrd l'f., Whose treech'rous waters seemed for ever hushed, Hath still its darker hours of storm and strif , , And pain may come where pain for aye seemed crushed. Chalge 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 foir flow'ra; Its louder voice may drown the fountain's play, Its rage alone be heard a few shor t hours; But then must end its mad de.struetive reign, And ea , th is beautiful, and htav'n is calm again. Then from that lovely isle there floateth out Unwonted fregrarlee o'er the changf ful deep, Till they who chance to wander thereabou', 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. Oh! who,.bccause a storm at times may break O'er that fair scene, could wish one flower the less? Who from the poet's life ono vision take, In dread lest Lfter-hours should bring distress? Fear no'c for him, n) sorrow can destroy His haven-implanted sense of beauty and of jo)! He may have cares to duller souls unknown, And grief we know not be to him revealed; Fear net for him! his gladness is his own, New springs cf comfort are for him unFeiled. His life is more than ours; to him are given, Even on this dull eartb, 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 pieces. Among these is " A Tale of Heal Life," which de tails the hopeful, anxious expectation of a maiden whose hetrotced is at sea : " The early buds aro swelling; The !irne will soon be come, — The blessed time he promised I should see him here at home. He said, will be w;th thce 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 gladness 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 forth at ev", (For she knew his heart too truly To diem he could deceive); With weary eyes still watching, Yet she hoped with steaffAst heart; " When he cometh home," she whispered, " He will never more depart!" Though she saw the scattered daisies, Unfolding one by one, Till many a starry blossom Lay laughing to the sun; Though the larch's flath'ry shadow Felt dark upon the slop", Yet she watched with quiet patience, And hoped with constant hope. She wandered by the waters Where he first had t )1d his love, With the summer sea for witness, And the placid stars above; Where she listened, looking downward, With a blush on cheek and brow, And a heart that fluttered wildly To the music of his vow. That music had not failed her, Thoug h by h iterhsosmweeewt power, asfellof strife; It quelled, The harsher tones of life; And she served the frowning stranger Who filled her mother's place, With a spirit full of meekness, And an 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 LAWY.ER; 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, 12 and 13 Victoria, so that it presents a complete mirror of the law as it actually is at present. The work has been carefully revised and entirely re-printed throughout, and has now incorpo rated with it the provisions cf the Bankrupt Law ConsolidatiOn Act of last session, of the laws affect ing commercial and steam-navigation, merchant shipping, pilotage, and emigrant passengers, and a complete digest of new County Courts Acts. To theary a pr f e l s a e w nt t e e d r i m tio s, n haoasdbeaenn aaddddeedndaacosmuppplelyteindgicmtiuonch useful information pertaining to the is thehefees most useful, the thecsoeful and l a w most courts generally. an I d the m os t accurate popular g charges e s t c o mpre h ensive, of f the laws o f E ng l an d that has ever di been presented to the public. LIVERPOOL, SATURDAY --Tbe royal mail steam ship Europa, Captain Lott, left the Mersey this alter nocn for Habfax and New York, with the semi monthly mails arid a full complement e f passengers, She bas a large cargo of British and foreign manufac tured goods. ASSYRIAN ANTIQUITIES.--Major H. Ravvlinsop, the East India Company's political agent in Turkish Arabia, and her Majesty's Consul at Bagdad, who has lately arrived in this country from Bagdad, has brought with him a quantity of casts of Babylonian inscriptions, and also some packages containing figures c f stone and terracotta, being remains c f Assyrian antiquities; and they are intended to he deposited in the British Mu seum and other scientific institutions of the metropolis; and as, from their extreme i cgc and very deli ca t e cha racter, they are liable to injury if unhecossarily dis turbed previously to being deposited at their destination, the Gallant Major hes rcquestcd that the greatest care of them may be observed by the authorities, and that they may be delivered for the s.cientifie purposes men tioned. THE. HEROIC SPIRIT, "A new pole-star had start: Al 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 oce an t f immortality; it was the stem from whence have sprung the blossoms of varied beauty that have subsequently ripened into fruits of fame; in fine, it was the heroic feeling, which reviled, persecuted, and op posed, has flourished and still flourishes amid every dis udvantage. Change has not tarnished its glory, ages have not effected its annihilation; that which illumined the infancy of time shall survive till time itself shall ba no more; not even at the end t f creation can we look for its extinction, for that existence into which a divine es sence has been infused is essentially et?rnal, 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 clasei the demi-gods ' Around its shrine Are ranged for evermore the tuneful nine.' "All most high in hurrauity; all most excellent on earth; all enrolled under its flaming banners. It, annals are adorned by a glorious company of apostles, by a goodly fellowship of prophets, by a noble army of martyrs. It numbers in its hits 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 attack, derision; un moved, unmoveable—unextine e uishcd, unextinguishable —unchange.l, unc h angea bl e . It has outlived its oppo nents; woe t) all enemies, ineffable scorn is their meed, and oblivion shadows their graves.' Would some de wed; 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. nan, 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 }Afore 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 Herman 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 nowise 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 of a sailor-boy (vide " Redburn"), 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 the sequel will show. "-The way I came by it was this. " When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru —her last harbour in the Pacific—l found my; elf with out a grego, or sailor's surtout; and al, 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 myself, 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 tl.au a white duck frock, or rather shirt; which, spreading on deck, I folded double at the bosom, and by then making a continuation of the slit there, opened it lengthwise—much as you would cut a leaf in the last new novel. The gash being made, a metamorphosis took place, transcending any relatod by Ovid. For, presto! the shirt was a coat!—a strange looking coat, to be sure; of a Quakerish amplitude about the skirts; with an infirm, tumble•down collar; and a clumsy f.ilsess about the w►istbands; and white, yea, white as a shroud. And my shroud it aterwards came very near proving, as he who reads further will find. "But, bless me, my friend, what sort of a summer jacket is this, in which to weather Cape Horn? A very tasty, and beautiful whit 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 teat 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 bedarned and bequilted the inside of my jacket, till it became, all over, stiff and padded, as King James's cotton-staffed and dagger-proof doublet; and no buckram or steel hauberk stood up more stoutly. "So far, very good; but pray, tell me, White-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 ray 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 (which is the avowed object of the work) an idea of the world of a man, of-war appertaining to Uncle Sam. "In the year 1843," says the preface, " the author shipped as a common sailor on board of a United States frigate, then }ying 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 cruize." White Jacket commences his history with the frigate's weighing anchor at the last hartour 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 initi a t e us i n t o the various divisions of a man-of-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," Llays 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 for the I