The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-01-29 00:00:00

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. THE MORNING STAR: (From a Volume just intblished, entitled Original Compositions in Prose and Verse.) Many years since there was a small village about a mile and a half from the eastern gate of the city of Liege. The best house in it was the little inn, which stood apart from the rest about a stone's throw. What its sign may have originally been I do not know, for it was known through all the country round by the name of the " Morning Star,' which it had acquired from the alertness of its inmates. No house in the whole pro vince of Flanders kept such early hours. The landlord, Adam Polder, was an old man, and his wife not much younger than himself. Their niece, Trinette (Catrine was her real name, but all the world called her Trinette,) assisted them, and was, in fact, the effibient person ; and great credit, indeed, she had "of it, for it was the very pattern of a village inn, with its pink front and its green outside shutters, and the white benches on each side of the door, and the four poplar trees between it and the road; and then inside the nicely sanded floor, and the raft ers loaded with hams and dried fish, and the blazing hearth, and the shelf decorated with Touruay earthenware, and the store Of bright brass jars and dishes, which Trinette polished till they shone like gold. It was quite a little Flemish. Paradise. But the thing'she was prouder of than of all besides was the little garden behind it, where, over and above the onion-bed, which supplied her mistress with the magnificent clusters she delighted in hanging up in her window, Trinette contrived, with the as sistance of Jan Van Bloemen, to rear some tulips, which both believed to be the finest flowers that had ever - blossomed be yowl the precincts of Haerlem. Now, this Jan Van Bloemen was a young market-gardener, whom all the world pointed out as Trinette's bachelor. It was very true, that whenever he had occasion to go into the city, and these occasions had occurred almost daily for the last seven or eight months, he always dis covered that his shortest road was that which led him by the "Morning Star ;" and he would often stop, in a neighbourly way, to chat with old Adam, or to help his pretty niece to tie up her flowers. Moreover, he had danced with Trinette at the kermesse of their own, and all the neighbouring villages ; and when he carried off the prize at the last popinjay, credible wit nesses asserted that he had been heard to declare, that he felt much less satisfaction in his success than in the reflection that she had been a witness of his triumph ; at which avowal Tri nette was said to have blushed and smiled. In short, it was supposed to be a settled thing, and every body called Jan a very lucky fellow; for, besides her beirig very pretty, it was beyond a doubt, as Adam had no child, that she would inherit the con tents of a long leathern purse, which he kept in the large house hold chest, with the brass belts and hinges, which stood in the kitchen, acting in the double capacity of receptacle and dresser, and into which, every Saturday night, he emptied the gains of the preceding week—and Adam's gains were sure gains. It was not one of those beer-houses where you see cards about all day, and hear the billiard-balls rattling till midnight, as is too frequently the case; but respectable customers, good beer, short accounts, and early hours, characterised the "Morning Star ;" early hours, indeed, for the family went nightly to bed with the lamb, and reason good, for they rose before the lark. Now, it happened one day towards the end of Autumn, that Jan had been detained at Liege till a much later hour than usual, yet he was unwilling to return home without communicating to his friend AdaM some important intelligence he had just received from the brother-in-law of the cousin of the burgomaster's con fidential servant, relative to au expected rise in the price of hops. He almost feared that the door might have.been closed for the night, but there was no harm in trying if it were still on the latch. His surprise and pleasure may be conceived when, as he approached, he saw the fire-light darting bright cheering gleams through the still-open casement. I will not venture to affirm that his feelings experienced no check, when a closer examination enabled him to discover that Adam's kit chen that evening received unwonted guests. Three men of unprepossessing physiognomy, in whose dress the trader and the military adventurer were anomalously blended, were seated smoking round the table, on which stood a flask of Rhenish wine, and a Dutch cheese, which Jan well knew was seldom produced except on occasions of ceremony. Adam sat in his stiff-backed oak chair, listening with an air of deferential re spect to the occasional observations of the strangers; the hos tess plied her knitting in the chimney corner, and Trinette, who was - busied in removing the remains of dinner, was laughing gaily at the witticisms which ever and anon escaped from their lips, in the intervals between their long whiffs. Neither did it escape Jan's notice, though certainly it was but a trifle, that the village coquette was dressed with more than usual attention to effect—her linen cap arranged with more than ordinary care over her glossy dark hair, and the wrought clocks of her blue worsted stockings more ostentatiously displayed than was her wont. It was perhaps not unnatural that a jealous lover, and such was the market-gardener, should combine the circum stances, and conclude that this holyday attire was exhibited in honour of the, to him, very objectionable associates in whose company he beheld her. The real key to Trinette's unusual finery and superabundant lightness of heart had escaped his penetration—she sported, for the first time, a pair of long gold ear-rings ! Jan had been standing for about ten minutes au unsuspected observer of the group, when Trinette suddenly per ceived him, as she passed the windows in the course of her household arrangements, and her surprise was indicated by a start, which the jealous lover thought betokened less gratifica tion than her manner towards him usually evinced; and his re flections did not become less gloomy when she joined him, ex claiming, in her liveliest tone, "A fine night, Mynheer Jan ! but somewhat of the chilliest. Methinks it would be wiser in your worship to turn in, and take a scat by our fire-side, than to stand out here in the frosty wind, counting the stars, like M. le Cure, or the bishop's chaplain." "I am not cold, Trinette," replied Jan, exasperated by her ill-timed pleasantry, "neither was I counting the stars, neither am I disposed for a seat by the fire-side in the company of strangers." " For that matter," returned the damsel, with a toss of her little head, " nobody wishes to constrain your self-willed inclinations. But I find it cold, and I must go in ; my master and these honourable gen tlemen will require my attendance." " These honourable gen tlemen, indeed! I never saw more unprepossessing-looking in dividuals in my life. Let me tell you, Trinette, it is not for the credit of the " Morning Star" to harbour such suspicious cha racters. Honourable gentlemen! Why, they are more like smugglers, or deserters, or brigands," continued he, in rising wrath ; " if old Adam would take my advice, he would close his door against such desperadoes." " Vastly well, Heer Van Bloemen!" retorted the maid of the inn ; " but old Adam knows his interest, and my interest, and the interest of the " Morn ing; Star" better than to close his door against respectable tra vellers from foreign parts, with their memories full of old sto ries from distant countries, and reports of the wars of our own days, and their purses full of broad pieces, which they are ready and willing to spend." "Aye, and their knapsacks full of trinkets and toys, which they arc willing to bestow on the host's pretty niece," cried the indignant gardener, furiously glancing at the new ear-rings which had just met his eye. low, Tri nette really loved Jan as well as she loved any thing excepting herself; so, perhaps, had she not been self-convicted of a super abundance of complacency in her new bravery of attire, she would have condescended to relieve his uneasiness by acknow ledging that the obnoxious ornaments were the present of her sister, the wife of a respectable grocer at Namur ; but offended by his jealousy, and not quite displeased to consider herself the injured party instead of the aggressor, she contented herself with replying scornfully, " These ear-rings were not given me by the honourable gentlemen. It is very • strange, Jan Van bloetnen, that you will imagine there is no one disposed to make me apresent but yourself or old Adam, or these guests of our's." "[wish your guests were—at Liege," interrupted he, suppressing a less charitable wish. " The gates will soon be shut, and they will hardly like to spend the night in the fields." "Neither will they require to do so- - --they propose lodging here." " Here !" reiterated Jan, who knew, from the proxi mity of the city, such a thing had never occurred as a travel ler's spending the night under Adam Polder's roof. " It is im possible, Trinette; you have not accommodation to receive them." "It is very certain ) however, that these honourable gentlemen have pressing business; they . will set forward on their way before the city gates are open in the morning; and as for their lodging, my mistress and I will sleep in the inner rooni, and the eldest of the travellers will have the bed in the kitchen; old Adam will do very well for one night, rolled in a good blanket, and lying on the household chest; and the two others, being active young men, have no objection to climb the ladder and sleep in the loft." "You have managed well; and yet,. St. Gudule help me ! but I have great misgivings about these men." " You are valorous !" replied Trinette, laughing affectedly. " Good Jan ! - mind your cabbages, and let us manage our affairs for ourselves. It's lucky you have not yet authority to command in the " Morning Star," and may be it were wiser that I never put it iu your power to do so.'' " It might he better for us both that. I never attempted to influence a stubborn wit!, or attach a fickle heart." " As you will, Jan —the loss will be yours, not mine," retorted the offended girl. The tone of forced mirth in which these words were pronounced was infinitely displeasing to Jan's feelings, and he was far too angry to observe that tears of vexation gushed into her eyes. The insulting. laugh was conclusive ; he turned sullenly on his heel, and left her without one parting word. She watched him with half-relenting interest till he was out of sight ; twice she was about to recall him, and twice pride overcame her better feelings. "I will make friends with him to-morrow," said she —"to-morrow." The morrow broke, and Jan, magnanimously nursing his much-abated indignation, resolved to betake him self for his morning meal to any place in the neighbourhood, excepting the "Mornin g g Star." Fearful that he might be tempted to break through this praiseworthy resolution, he would not even trust himself to look in that direction, and actually proceeded to his master's garden by the straight path across the fields, revolving in his mind thoughts not very compliment ary to the constancy of the fair sex in general, and of the indi vidual culprit in particular. He had not proceeded very far on his way, before he was accosted by Wilhelm Stein, the mason, who observed in that tone of peculiar bitterness which dis tinctly indicates that the individual speaking has suffered a dis appointment in the matter of his matin meal, " Friend Jan ! the Morning Star' will lose its reputation for early hours; I have been knocking at the door till I am tired, and no one an swers; the shutters are still closed, and the household doubtless still asleep. As a friend, let me advise you to remonstrate with Trinette, or the leathern purse will be lighter than you think for." In the bitterness of his wrath, Jan was about emphati cally to declare his total indifference to the weight of the purse, and his unqualified conviction of the absolute inutility of any remonstrance from him in that quarter; but as no man likes to point himself out as the object of indifference and contempt to the ladye love, he allowed the observation to pass, as it un heard, and contented himself with forming a very fervent mental aspiration, that, ere long, by word or deed, Wilhelm Stein might give him a legitimate excuse for knocking him down. Wilhelm passed on, and Jan, who soon reached his des tination, addressed himself diligently to his work; but before noon, many passers-by had remarked on the tardiness of the Morning Star,' and some expressed a doubtful wish that all might be well within.' Coupling these remarks with the re collections of the night before, a sudden apprehension flashed across the gardener's mind. He threw down his spade, and hurried to the little iun ; the shutters were still closed, and, to his inexpressible horror, he perceived that no smoke curled from its chimneys. He knocked, but there was no answer : he called, but nothing appeared to stir within. Some persons, however, hearing , 131111, hastened from the neighbouring fields to his assistance. lhe door, upon trial, appeared firmly fastened; and they were considering what course they should next pursue, when a faint, a very faint moaning decided them to enter, let follow what might. There was a low window at the back o f the house, which occurred to them as offering more facility for gaining admission than any other. It looked into the garden, and the flower-beds beneath had evidently been recently tramp led. The shutters, which were here simply closed, not bolted, yielded immediately to their hands, and Jan Van Bloemen sprang in hastily, and gained the interior of the cottage before any of his companions had followed him. An exclamation of horror prepared them in some degree for the scene within. The stream of light from the garden window disclosed an appalling spectacle. The lifeless body of old Adam, gashed with wounds, lay on the kitchen floor, close by the brass-belted chest, whose lid had been burst open, and the contents rifled. The corpse of his wife was also stiffening in her blood, and a weak feeble groaning alone indicated that the murderers had left one deed of blood incomplete. Could affection stay the parting breath, Jan's assurances of pardon were not wanting. But Trinette's moments were numbered; and gathering her little remaining strength by an effort, to point out the last night's travellers as the perpetrators of the crime, she sunk back upon his shoulder to wake no more ! Search was made instantly for the fugitives, and they were very shortly discovered, concealed in a low oak copse, about half a mile from the spot. They offered no resis tance when seized, but suffered themselves tranquilly to be con ducted to the Hotel de Ville, where, as it happened, the tribunal of justice was at that moment sitting. Trin e tte's dyi ng deposi tion, and Jan's identification of their persons were unnecessary to convict them, as they made a full confession of their guilt, which was accompanied by circumsthuces of peculiar barbarity and duplicity. Sentence was passed upon them, and every in dividual present acquiesced in the justice of the award; but a thrill of horror ran through the whole court, when one of the prisoners stepping forward, declared, in his own name and that of his accomplices, that from the moment of committing the crime for which they were justly about to suffer, they felt that they were delivered over, body and spirit, to the enemy of souls. They . had wandered for hours, but always in a circle ; for an irresistible force restrained their steps, and withheld them with in sight of the home of their unoffending victims. They were removed from the bar, and a pious priest never after left their side, urging them to employ their few remaining hours in making their peace with Heaven. But they turned a deaf ear to his admonitions; they spurned the offers of pardon, and awaited in hardened impenitence or stolid apathy, their fearful doom. The fatal hour arrived, and an immense crowd collected to witness their execution. I will not enter into the details— suffice it to say, that the sentence decreed them to be burnt, that their very remains might not cumber the earth. But no human hand scattered their ashes to the winds of heaven for, while the flames still crept lazily round the blackened pile, a tempest arose which, in violence, surpassed auy that the oldest Liegeois present ever remembered. Loud, sudden, cracking bursts of thunder, attended by vivid and forky lightnings, and furiously rushing blasts of wind, dispersed the terrified multi tude. The alarmed executioner even fled from the spot, and it was not till the storm had subsided into a heavy continuous plashy rain, that he returned to look upon his work. A black scathed-looking spot was all the trace left of what had recently occurred there, from which, to his unutterable horror, crawled an innumerable swarm of black-beetles, who spread themselves in all directions through the city." ATTACK UPON A HARE BY A MAGPIE.—TO record the petty conflicts of the inferior animals may seem trifling to the general observer; but to the naturalist who writes the history of a spe cies, no anecdote, however trivial, that serves to illustrate pecu liar of character, can appear either uninteresting or super fluous. I was informed the other day by a friend (a medical man, with whom I am on terms, and on whose veracity I c a n rely:) . that he had just witnessed a curious contest between a magpie and a fine full-grown hare; the bird snaking frequent and turious pounces at the hare, and pursuing it for a consider able distance, when the animal escaped by making for a thick hedge, at the other side of which it ran off to some distance from the place where it had entered, and without being ob served by the bird. I had alm ays considered the magpie to be a remarkably bold bird, but never conceived him capable of such an exploit as this. Field Naturalist's Magazine. QUEEN ADELAIDE.—The following observations upon our gracious queen, are extracted from a paper called the Anglo Germanic Adviser :—"The late Duke of Meiningen, father to her majesty, was a steady supporter of the Protestant faith, but died at the early age of forty-two years, when her majesty was only nine years old. He left, by his last will, his consort, Louisa Elenora, regent of the duchy, and guardian of his three children. Under this amiable woman the children were edu cated in great retirement, and with a care and attention to their morals, and improvement in every branch of polite learning, that does the highest credit to her virtues and character. The two princesses, Adelaide and Ida of Meiningen, became cele brated for their amiable and estimable conduct. Though na turally of a lively and cheerful disposition among their more intimate associates, they took little or no pleasure in the gaieties or frivolities of fashion, and when arrived at more mature years, showing an utter detestation for the laxity of morals and con tempt for religious feelings which had sprung out of the revolu tion in' France, and found their way into many courts of Eu. rope. Their chief delight was in establishing and superintend ing schools for the education of the lower classes of the com munity, and in procuring and providing food and clothing for the feeble and destitute in the city and suburbs of the ducal re sidence. Above all, the Princess Adelaide was the soul and life of every institution which had for its object the well-being of her fellow-creatures." TIM DEFENCE OF LISBON BY THE MEE OF WELLINGTON.— (From Colonel Mackinnon's History of the Coldstream Guards.) —lt is no reproach to Sir John Moore, who ranked amongst the bravest and most intelligent British Generals of his time, to say, that what all men but Wellington thought impossible appeared impossible to him. The letter of that General to Lord Castlereagh, written at no very long period before Sir Artifur Wellesley directed the lines of Torres Vedras to be constructed, will prove how far even Sir John Moore was from supposing it to be within the reach of human ability to check an enemy at Lisbon, and to baffle any attempt on that capital. —" Salamanca, Nov. 25, 1808.-1 am not prepared at this moment to answer minutely your Lordship's question respect ing the defence of Portugal, but I can say generally, that the frontier of Portugal is not defensible against a superior force. It is au open frontier—all equally rugged but, all equally to be penetrated. - If the French succeed, in Spain, it will be in vain to attempt to resist them in Portugal. The Portuguese are without military force; and, from the experience of their con- - duct under Sir Arthur Wellesley, no dependence is to be placed on any aid they can give. The British must, in that event, I conceive, immediately take steps to evacuate the country. Lis bon is the port, and therefore the only place from whence the army with its stores can embark. Elvas and Almeida are the only fortresses on the frontier. The first is, I am told, a re spectable work. Almeida is defective, and,could not hold out ten days against a regular attack. I have ordered a depot of provisions , for a short consumption to be formed there, in case this army should be obliged to fall back; perhaps the same should be done at Elves. In this case we might check the pro gress of the enemy whilst the stores are embarking and arrange thents are made for taking off the army. Beyond this, the de fence of Lisbon or Portugal is not to be thought of. I have the honour to be, &c. " Joinv MOORE." .~.~ Orti*V. THE GLADIATOR. (From The House of Colberg ; a Tragedy. By T. J. Serle.) " Calbeig. See you yon statue ? Hermann. The gladiator ! Ay, my lord ; sometimes I've looked upon it till l've almost wept. Col. You feel a pity for that gladiator Are we not all such 3 Are we not all doomed To waste our generous spirits in a strife Of baseness ? Mark the world. There is the soldier, Whose valour is hired out—perchance to quell A nobler daring in a holier cause ; And hear the statesman's eloquence—when pleads he For truth :done and right ? The philosopher Wrestles in noble energy with vice ; But ere he enters on the fatal lists, His doom is preordained :—e'en the blithe poet, That builds a perfect world unto himself, Whose wishes are creation, is awaked From his fond dream of luxury, to strive With envy and detraction, sneering folly, Biting indifference, till his vital warmth Is spent like *water 'gainst a rock of ice, Congealing to like stillness. The true patriot— How often does he press the gift of liberty In vain on slaves, and perish by the hands Of those he would have bless'd All noble things Are made for the cruel sport of baser natures : The world is their great audience ; it applauds, Pities perhaps, and Cheers, then ends the theme By saying 'twas gallant pastime. When I think thus, I pity not him whom ignoble death Frees from a more ignoble life." AN EVENING THOUGHT. (From The Chameleon.) How soon, behind my skiff's calm way, The willing waters close again I It leaves no line of broken spray Along the scarcely ruffled plain. So let me glide through peaceful life, Bequeathing not one sad regret To aught I've loved, nor thought of strife, For, in forgiving, I forget I Yet would I not 'twere worth no note, What I have done, or hope to do : No more than hid I'd wish the spot I've left, or yon I'm steering to. Behind, the east is dark; but lo ! The west is blushing red with light; Hail to the omen ! may it show At least my setting will be bright THE DESTRUCTION OF SE NNACHERIB. THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold. And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea ! When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners of sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn lalth blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd ; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold, as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Rath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord BYRON. V r.1. - MS TIES. ON FLIES WALKING UP GLASS, AGAINST GRAVITY.—LSOMC time ago Mr.Blackwall,"one of our most ingenious and original observers, read a paper to the Linunan So cie ty, a dd uc i ng f ac t s discordant with Sir E. Home's opinion that flies walk up glass by means of a vacuum produced in their foot, on the principle of the boy's leather sucker. I think it highly provable that Mr. Blackwall is not aware of some of his views having been anti cipated nearly two hundred years ago. "The common fly," says Dr. Power, "hath s it l egs , but goes on l y upon four; he two foremost she makes use of instead of hands, with which you often sec her wipe her mouth and nose, and take up any thing to eat. The other four legs a rc cl o v e n, an d arme d with little daws or talons (like a catamout,) by . which she lays hold on the rugositics and aspe r iti e s o f a ll bogies she walks over, even to the supportance of herself, though with her back downwards and perpendicularly inversed to the horizon. To which pur pose, also, the wisdom of nature hath endued her with another singular artifice, and that is, a fuzzy kind of substance like .littie sponges, with which she hath lined the soles of her feet, which substance is also repleted with a whitish viscous liquor, which she can at pleasure squeeze out, and so sodder and be glow herself to the. plain she walks on, which otherwise her .gra vity would hinder (were it not for this contrivance,) especially when she walks i n th ose i nve rted positions.—Field Naturalist's Magazine. SIR A. B. FAULKNER'S VISIT TO GERMANY (THE ELEC TORATE OF HEssE.)—l have been here only a very few days, and never was I more heartily sick of any place in my exis tence. What must it be for an utter stranger to be banished to such a place for a life time ! yet one such case there actually is, lingering iu hopeless poverty, at the wretched Wabern—an American lady, doomed by a most wayward succession of ill luck, to breathe On throug h days and months and years of thi s "living death," with hardly means to supply the most inexor able of the demands of nature. She was married to a German officer in the commissariat during the first American war, who died without leaving a f ar thi ng . This poor widow now wholly depends for escaping the wretchedness of high-way beggary on the gratuity of a few dollars a year, ill paid from the bounty of the elector, a sum hardly sufficient even in this cheap country to cover her " looped and widowed raggedness" and keep her in potatoes. To her other heavy griefs this poor lost gentle woman adds the miseries of ag e far advanced, and of more ra pidly advancing infirmiti es . Yet are these ills as nothing; she says, in comparison of the desolation she suffers, without hav ing one friend to whom she can unburden her sorrows. She has daughters living in - the village,- but they arc " strangers cxpially to her heart and to herself;" having, at a very early age, married labourers and stone-breakers, and become ethbrutecl by their society into a state of utter indifference to their mo ther's feelings, which they cannot understand; and one crumb have they not to spare frOrn their hard earnings towards her support. Become familiar with scenes of distress in a place where poverty is only kept at bay by the dint of hard labour, so far as appearances are c o n cerne d, they see little in their mo ther's lot varying from that of other .paupers with whom they are familiar. The - parent's keen pang of remembered days, they, of course, knew nothing about, so that they can feel no sympathy, and offer no consolation. O n th e contrary, the wretched'ho'ydeus are perpetually before her eyes only as mo numents of her misfortunes, adding gall to a cup of bitterness Irnich.already overflows. Perhaps it is impossible for simple misfortune, unaggravated by guilt, to go much farther. The poor gentlewoman's story is but too well authenticated; and were it not so, her withered worn look of despair, and the in genious manner and way of telling her simple narrative; were, God knows, evidence enough to rebuke the doubts of the most heartless suspicion. One may easily discern, through the veil which her years and sufferings have spread over her features, that she has been handsome in her day. She still retains the air of a gentlewoman; and now and then, as she talked of her country, would grow cheerful. The recollection of her early years seemed to light up her intelligent features for a moment like the flitting gleam of a Winter sky. It was but for a mo ment. The ordinary cast of her features was in harmony with her feeling of deep settled sadness, yet blending rather with ie bignation than despair. It is a great struggle to wear out the dregs of life in this way. ANRCDOTt OF BURRE.—During one of the debates on affairs of America, Hartley, the member for Hull, after ha driven four-fifths of a very , full house from the benches 14 unusually dull speech, at length requested that the Riot might be read, for the purpose of elucidating one of his salons. Burke, who was impatient to address the House self, immediately started up and exclaimed, "The Riot A dearest friend, why, in the name of everything . that's sad have the Riot Act read ? The mob you see, is already persed !" Peals of laughter followed the utterance of comic appeal, which Lord North frequently declared to be of the happiest instances of wit he ever heard.—Georgian SPORTING CALCULATIONS.-ISt. In the course of along hunting, it is 10 to 1 in favour of a bold and good rider, mounted, that he meets any accident at all-2d. Supposill falls, it is 8 to 1 that either he or his horse is 'material- 1 1 jured.-3rd. It is 6 to 1 the horse is hurt, and not the ride 4th. If the rider is hurt, it is 12 to 1 that a bone is not bre) ) sth. It is '2O to 1, if a bone is broken, that the wound is mortal. Ergo, 10 8 6 20=115,200=1 1 V, 1 >C I=l. And 115,200=1 :—Thus stated, it deo That he has no fall is 10 to 1; that himself or horse is not t 80 to 1; that it is his horse and not himself, 480 to 1; that bone is broken, 5760 to 1 ; that the hurt is not mortal, 115, to 1. Ergo, out of 115,206 persons who go out hunting ill] Morning, only one is supposed to end his course that way fl the effect of that day's diversion.—From the American Ca of Narural History. JULIUS C.,ESAR AT HONlE.—About thirty years ago, a merchant in Dundee, was pretty generally unders to be under petticoat government. He had a party of gel men one evening at his house, who were beginning to sus they were sitting too long after supper, and who accorch were preparing to depart, alleging that they were afraid Mrs. , who had before lett them, would be beginniD weary—" No, no," cries the hospitable landlord, " sit still still—never mind that, I'll be Julius Cwsar in my own hou Alas ! the lady overheard the boast—ere five minutes daps shrill small voice from the half-opened door exclaimed, " Caesar, come awa to your bed." A summons to which, hove reluctantly, obedience must be given.—D undee Courtitutil THE CRITIC REBUKED.—The first sermon which Hall 1 vered, at Cambridge, after he had assumed the office of p was on the doctrine of the atonement, and its practical dencies. Immediately after the conclusion of the service, of the congregation, who had followed poor Mr. Rob . through all his changes of sentiment, went into the vestry, said, "Mr. Hall, this preaching won't do for us: it will suit a congregation of old women." "Do you mean, sermon, sir, or the doctrine ?" "Your doctrine." "Why that the doctrine is fit only for old women ?" "Because it suit the musings of people tottering on the brink of the gl and who are eagerly seeking . comfort." "Thank you, sir, your concession. 'the doctrine will not suit people of any unless it be true; and if it be true, it is not fitted for old we alone, but is equally important at every age."—Dr. Grego Memoir of Robert Hall. ROB ROY.—The name of M'Gregor became a doomed J, and the clan whose patronymic it was, an - outlawed body, venge or in punishment of some real or alleged excesses C milted by its leading members, so early as the commence of the fifteenth century; and, while their possessors marked out for the vengeance of the law or of the court same thing then—the lands were gifted away to the preva minions of power, and their favourites and dependents. A tural son of the Duke of Albany laid hold of the district c Balquidder for his share of the spoil, while a decree of Council of State, in which body his father's influence was powerful, with eastern sang froid proclaimed a reward for cc head of a M'Gregor, " properly authenticated," that was warded to its president. While the state condescends t!) paymaster's, the cutting off the heads of defenceless men ways too profitable a traffic, not to have many followers , certain laird of Drumscrag cultivated this commerce or changing heads for "marks" with so much success, that he 01 got a title from a people, whose language has more nicknal than any other ever spoken, expressive of his skill in the cc tion. Like an industrious man, he always carried his 0 goods to market. On one occasion, while he was proceed on horseback with a sackful, and their certificates, he was or overtaken, by a brother Highlander, who civilly inquired the course of conversation, what he had got in his bag. " V can of the heads" boasted, pedlar-like, of his commodities-' must have felt rather astonished at the speed with which his tensed fellow-traveller set about adding the owner's own 1 cious one to the number. This man had purposely wa!" him. He was a M'Gregor, and the bloody heads of his na sakes found a decent grave, and Drumscrag a deserved dE on the spot. THE EXILED BOURBONS.—We take the following i from Ami de la Religion :—" The Royal exiles are living n the . lace of Hradschin, at Prague, an immense antique built whose only advantage is that it completely commands the i and the environs to a vast extent. Thence are descried windings of the Moldau, which flows through the town, (licit' it into two parts, which are united by a single bridge, that h which St. Johan Mepomuk was thrown in 1383, and on wb his statue is placed at the spot from which he was precipits into the river, and which is always saluted by the inhabitant they pass with great veneration. Though the view which Ilradschin commands is magnificent, nothing can be 1:1 3 sombre than its interior, which consists of vast apartmel without carpets or curtains, and indeed almost entirely with furniture; no fire-places, but instead of them cumbrous stet with heavy domes to them, and an almost universal °doll' tobacco-smoke. There is ample room for exercise under col for the corridors are interminable. The apartments and chi bers are not fewer in number than 700. The Royal Family course, cccupy but a very small portion of them, and yet ample accommodation for their friends and visitors. At the ginninn. of December the cold was very severe, and the 11 began to be frozen over, for though broad it is not deep. town affords but few of the pleasures of life, but provisions cheap, and the manufactures are much the same as in I;rato The nobility form good society when assembled in the tot but in summer they retire to their country-seats. The Frei exiles lead a most monotonous life. Being entirely foreigo l unacquainted with the language and manners of the peel they are almost without society and its resources. Charles has scarcely quitted his bed for six weeks, and has not been' of the Palace since his arrival. He has had an attack of gout, much more severe than any to which he had been e before subject, and no doikt his recluse mode of life must 1 31 had a bad effect upon his general health. The King, the' suffering with Christian resignation, must be cruelly affef by his present state, though there are no symptoms which"' those around him to apprehend any immediate fatal NV quences.—Galignaa s Messenger. ENGLISH AND ITALIAN FEhIALES.—The young women England, under a stormy and inconstant sky, have hearts' minds peaceful and serene, always equable, and always ' cile. My amiable countrywomen, under a heaven per tually smiling, have minds and hearts alwayi in a temp The former are educated for quiet and domestic Itlicity 5 el thing conduces to this end, the order and system of their li . the simplicity of their food, the climate, compelling theta., live in doors, the silence that reigns within and without t O . homes, their long residences in the country, all tend to sOt or to set to sleep their passions. While the latter, anima' by the continual sight of the world, stimulated by a thous 4 objects, now treated tyrannically, now over-caressed, and th l d unreasonably contradicted, carried to the theatres and croit streets, seem educated to give vent to their passions, broel up only to be haughty and spirited. Hence, they are jug maned, greedy of distinction, made more beautiful by the 1 1 ' desire of pleasing, but tormented with a restless rivalry;' happy themselves, they too often make all around so. A. 0 and excellent comparison of the English women and 1 Italian may be found in the " Corinne of Madame de SO Corrinna, all fancy, all impulse, all love of glory, alltpassii was unhappy, and would have made her English loveeunhapl had she married him. Lucia, instead, all good sense, sweeto modesty, and filial affection, was happy in her- obscurity, promised happiness to her husband. Lucia after spend l , two hours of the morning in painting a beautiful rose, satin and contented, shuts it up in her portfolio: CorinnEtis dissal fled and discontented with her talent, unless she declainO, hymn, and receives thunders of applause from thousand auditors. Instead of producing extempore poetesses, sail the Bandettinis, the Mazzeis, and the Corillas, is it not bev . , to produce affectionate wives and sensible mothers of family Is not the picture of a happy family (Pamelawith her chili:le, more touching than that of the coronation of Corilla in t : capital ? Italy boasts Nina, Senti, Stampa, Julia Arao, I and many other modern imeovisatrici ; but would it not 0 tended more to the happiness of its families to have FO' women as Miss Edgeworth, Miss Aikin, and Mrs. Hamii; e who have written works for the education of children ? • I ° better to envoy a brief youth of tumultary pleasures, or au 6 , tire life full ol sweet affections; the first - like a torrent ''', dashes triumphantly over the rocks for a space, and then lea' its bed dry and arid; the second like a river that flows hew humble banks, but tows for ever. To this preachifying dull,. a witty Frenchwoman would reply, that she preferred a . ..,'. courte et bonne (short and good, that is brilliant)—a sober D • lishwoman wishes it long and comfortable (that is serene Count Pacchoi's Italian L.rile in England. gtipping 3ntt FRIDAY, 25th January.—Nooi arttrED—Mary, Tucker, from Perna 4 e ,Nevi York—Frederica, Kirkhoren, .t d ``,„,eral Smith, —, hence at Balti c 7, "all/ Reimer, hence at ELsineur. vnaercium Cattermole ; and Rebecc Lo bi „_ l4 -x, Leslie, from Buenos Ayres. at C s'ul on Steil Island, but was got off a sithout any apparent damage. li z e Canning, ----, from New I e 4 ead. e t , Jacobs ; an . d Lunenburgh, PePen„ Crookhaven '&lLp.o._Agenuria, Brown, for Mobil kil—sophie Elise, Bentzen, for Gib t ,Michael.s--Royal William, Hull, for'. u° l l---Lancashire Witch, Cholditch, fo 't Michael's. 1; SATURDAY, 26th January.--No , AlatvED.—U nited States, BP,Michael. lb, from Newfoundland—Helens, Sm : i ia in the channel—Delos, Harvey, fr( from Charente—Pauline, Pariy ; 72"' ~:)nicea, Stephenson, hence at Newfot li' 4 eviott, Bowman, hence at Trieste. eMathilda, Flack, hence at Cuxhave: ,Y.lnph, Maloney, from Jamaica for Be - Issa, Todd, from Calcutta for Clyde .Sierra Leone for Sunderland, off COT ;et, Conan, from Africa for this pc from St. John's, N. B. f ' 2 6 . 41 inst. _an Hastie, Forsyth, from Demerara i: 'unipany with the Aimwell, for this pc L e teat Britain, French, for this port, tool „dtinah river, 18th December, during a r. Crookshank, for: Gibraltar. SUNDAY, 27th January.—Noon, , DattvED.—ltobert Puisford, Pratt, fr e l n. from New York, (sailed 28th Dec. 14 24, spoke the New York, het le,-Ferguson, from Messina—Rusco gle, Hay, hence at Savannah. 'I nada, Wilson, hence at New York, 2( Atlantic, Smith, from Aberdeen, at Ne 'ir creign, ----, hence at Charlesto: Dalhousie Castle, --, hence off M Caledonia, Regent, Hall. hence at New Orle ' , aledonia, Pilcher, hence at St. Andrea uPerior, Meany, hence at New York. .ottagez, Dunley, for the Brazils, put b oykett, Shotten, from Bordeaux, at D i anly, Dobson, from Galway for this p - - MONDAY, 28th W January.—Noon, kaßivED.—Alary, orrall, from Buenos 41 1 )3erbice—Caraboo, Neale, from Lagu 41 1 Trinidad—James Perkins, , from St. Andrews, N. B.—Lu .ifax-31onkey, la Malaga—Catalina, Golden, from Bills Winsor, from Savannah, (ss t " 1 the Bashaw, for this port)—Samue ~ 'annnah (sailed 26th Dec.) On 7th Jan. 4 etl a Barque, with painted ports, and !„ildoned)-11ope, Mulloy, from Newfot ae Clear, spoke the Britannia, from t ~,k• "-tmogen , Richardson, from I%lauritit • in lat. 25. 3S. long. 4. E. spoke ti k uritius for London. The Ferguson, and London, were at St. Helena on 10th D spoke the Elizabeth, Moore, from LQOII. On 19th Dec. in lat. 2. 19. N. !t al g o , n ejs, Kirkhouse, from Mauritius, for °H. 30. long. 18. 30, spoke the Cat rmy l k it° -.1 : m it r y- ea.—l" , 1 9 r n oril Castle Ma ' rV a — a u Pinlay, ---, from Waterford—Spa; say Frances, Smith, from Drogheda .,Jones, and Martha, Aikin, from New ' unterio, Connell, from Londonderry-1 0 ksher, Kelly, from Isleman. r the Port—Sir Watkin, from Ceara, ] aide, from New Orleans—Anacreon, 1 ifax, from Halifax. rothy, Garnock, hence at Bombay. oacific Waite, hence at New York, ( 31 s ",Lr Edward Hamilton. - —, from F , sh Brig), from Bahia, (3rd Jan.), at N oval m.Kenzie, hence at Charleston, 'autil us , Parker, hence at Nova Scotia. Pha, Hill, hence for Ostend, at Penzan lankland, Edwards, from Demerarp, for i, 41 , from Ostend for this port, at Scilly. ‘ovidentia, Bence, hence for Dartmot t. With loss of bowsprit and other damag day previous, with the Susannah, Gar , !tol, the latter almost immediately sunk. - "I of Aberdeen. Brock, fm Bombay, in 4(1 ,9n, , hence for New Orleans, —, hence for Africa, was s Mary Ann, Laidley, from Miramich rth Nov. on the rocks of Newfoun IN at Boston. • i 4 e. Jane, M`Donald, from London for 4 1st Nov., on the North side of St. Din le is i alters arrived at port Maria. e Exchange, Johnson, from this port 2uth Dec., with loss of sails, an condemned. : . 4.RD.—Virginian, Harris, for New YQ TELEGRAPH OFFICE, 28th Wind at Holyhead, W.—Li tsseil inward bound yesterday, No. [ re gen %led inward bound this day, No. 645, Ji on, B. S., at 9 a.m.—No, 549, Sir W ,k 816, Carlisle, B, Sch., at 11 a.m.—N ' l4 .—No. 616, Halifax, B. S., at 2 „ p.m. itised Voel Nant inward bound, No. 73 j noon.—No. 375, Imo, B. S., at 1 "x., at 1 p.m.—No. 758, Samuel Wrigh .ealedonia, B. Bk., at 4 p.m.—No. 790, 1 Emporto. UNITED STATE lontgoviery, Sise, fm New York, with 'II, Waddington, Holt and co-327 do, 4 " do, H a arty and Jerdein-20 do, T B 4 Wainwright and Shiels-200 tcs news Ft 2 t horn tips, Dennistoun, Mackie an , 41or and co-20 brls apples, Morison, --4 bales coots unkn, E Frodsham—P orge Clinton, Woodhouse, fm New Orl j Peck and Phelps-655 do, Bolton, Ogd 10 1. hornely-93 do, D Jackson—P Pk - Ziat, Airey, fm Puerto Cabello and Ch ' 1, 10), abt 100 t copper ore, .T Bibby and cotton, order—P Dk "ited States, M'Michael, fm Savannah, 92 hf tea rice, W & J Brown and co—P BRITISH AMER', Nt. Smith, fm Newfoundland, with 41 3 eks maiden seal oil, 1420 quintals W Earle and co—C llk SOUTH AMERIC. 1,,,N*, Tucker, fm Pernambuco, with and co—So do, D Burn and co-231. porth and c 0—057 do, 300 dry Angola I I„! goods retd, Stewart Brothers-110 cs 763 dry salted hides, order—P Dk EUROPE. Vincent, fm St Michael's, with Rae-260 do, Todd, Naylor and of Athol, Dawson, fm Charente, witl itin—,s do, Bevan and Smith-10 do, J ~ 1413 42 hds brandy, W Colton-1 cs Chi L'" --1 do, 11 Preston and co-14 pus 160 1 landed at Lancaster), 8 Inns 94 hds bra rderiek, Wagenaam, fm Brussels, with Lbk 3 old First, Lerran, fm Ostend, with al Q fm Dk Charente, with 3 e c7-14 do, 22 do, E Rae ittrileeddcs''cKgvnadsrdkgo. 103 do, order—S Dk :dens, Smith, fm Faro, with. abt 27 t CI J ran Zeller and co—G Dk VESSELS ENTERED FOB WEST INDIES, &C, 1 1 :43tone & co, 357 Seaforth, & co, 329 Laura, G, " , eo, or W Clay, 327 Mersey, K, o g dedez CO, ':',l3rOwn & co, UNITED STATES. 3.31 Erin, K, Stirling, P, Virginian, P, 264 Huron, P, 372 Combatant, B, 413 St Croix, Q, SOUTH AMERICA. 68 Nadir, C, 202 Thomas Worthi & Co, *lanan, & Son, Brothers, & Phillips, 134 George Canning Imrie 8; co, 256 Harmony, K, 1 1:111Nvorth. 245 Tames!. I', _ MEDITERRANEAN. "4E7 & co, 74 Loyal William, EUROPE. I, -- Frederica, B, h a b it * , Pauline, Q, kllowaki, 207 Julie, B, AFRICA. til)i,‘"' 460 Vere, P. ii'` (a . Maxwell, 301 Boddingtons, P, % G bitumen, 1U Clipper, $, i'