The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-03-05 00:00:00

Literature. CARDINAL Dr.,, ou. THE COURTIER'S PLOT By Parra l'or.roY, (For Linervyst Standard.) f. , HAPTEIt XV, The dawn of the day. The Coadju'or and his suite. The Falai; de .Ins , ice The tr,, tor convicted. The insult and challenge. The cele , rated sitting. The craft of the Coadjutor An ordeal. tra. , ge events. For the space of a month ;.fter the midnight interview had taken place in the hbrary of the Coadjutor, Fabien and Elizabeth remained concealed within the cloister of Notre Dame. On time day after their arrival they were married by the chaplain of the Coadjutor. This bridal, as may well be imagined, was solemnised under the cloudiest anspices ; but Gondi at once saw that it was indisoensible to disarm the malice and scandal, which would sooner or later he indulged in, when the re sidence of a young and lovely girl in the dwelling of a prelate whose gallantries were no mysteries to the gay world, became known. This important ceremony had however brought with it but little happiness to the young couple, nor did it modify that kind of lif e w hi c h had been prescribed to them from the first by the Coadjutor; cooped up within the walls of the cloister, restricted to their own apartments with hut a silent court-yard in view, and with but little to amuse and nothing to interest them, be. yond their own society, it may be well imagined that, considering all circumstances, with their fate uncertain ) the future a chaos, that time did not fly very swiftly away. Fabien endeavoured to cheer up the drooping spi rits of his bride, and bade her hope for the best ; but save a casual visit from the scholar, and the attendance of Dame Gezairlio, the old housekeeper of the Coadjutor, not a human vacs: greeted them from morning till night. Oh ! hoe- that yo7lLig• pair did sigh for the pleasant fields of Normandy, for the broad and sunny lands of Croissi, and t!-. - • deep groves of IVlontglat. the most profound mystery was ob set.% :: , -eting the a' sence of Elizabeth, at the palace. The Queen, to avod the scandal of .her flight, spread a report that her maid of honour was absent by her express commands • and if the courtier s ma d e it a su bj ect of gos sip, they did so quietly. Anne of Austria, as one may readily believe, suspected that the Coadjutor had some connection with her extraordinary disappearance; but, itlthough she saw him every night in her oratory, she did not speak to him upon this most delicate subject; while he, on his part, was silent, perceiving, by certain indica tions, that it would not he prudent just then to plead thi) cause of his young fr;ends. It appeared as if there x"' isted between the two, a tacit convention that the subject. should be avoided whilst the affairs of the state so impa-, riously required that they should act in concert. Neither i one nor the other seemed willing to make any advances I in the matter—the Qu..en to pardon; those who had,Uf-, fended her, nor the Coa , :ljutcr to abandon those over wbotn he had thrown the shield of his powerful pro'ection.- The most dangerous enemy the newly-married couple' had to contend against was Albert de Croissi. , From the first moment he had no doubt as to the hiding, two victims had chosen. But as Albert continued-in • disgrace at court, he was not invested with any power th act against the fugitives, and he was too politic a gentle' 2 , l man to run a risk by which he might get himself perhaps still deeper into disgrace, since he was totally uninformed how the Queer, felt upon the subj.-et of the absence ofliel maid of honour, as well as Fabien's di.sappearari6e e Ile therefore contented himself with rambling about the cloister,- and engaging in conversation, at all times„ the gentlemen who formed the Coadjutor's guard. Thie marvellous sagacity of Eust a c e de Vireton, whom had especially commissioned to watch over Fabien:and Elizabeth, had at all times baffled his manoeuvres; hiat De Croissi did not doubt that if th e p ower o f the,Cuid jutor at any time declined, he might seize his vietimtety force, and which perhaps would not be then displeasi»g to the Queen. The lot of the young couple, therefore, seemed intimately connected with t h e ' f ortanes - o f. t h eir . protector, who maintained his unboundectinfluenee amidst all the political changes and fluctuations of the time.. .AV this epoch of revolutions and troubles events followed . thickly one alter another, and from the departure of Codes' to'Saint . Maur great alterations took place at court... ore the first warning of his danger, the Prince was staggered iii lr the boldness of the project meditated for the purpos'e of getting rid of him, but he soon profited by the indigna tion which was publicly expressed when the plot became' generally known. In fact Conde became more populer and powerful than before. He had required and obtained; the dismissal of Servien, Lionne, and Chateauneuf, Who were suspected by him as the authors t f the contemplate& plot against his life ; he obtained a guarantee to enter. Paris without fear of molestation; and at length, assured' by every possible strong precaution, quitted St. Maine it; tended by a magnificent train, and once more took ,pose session of his residence in the city. Day by day did he I attend the Parliament, accompanied by a numerous reti...• nue, and if it had n o t b een f or t h e i n fl uenc e and bold front of the Coadjutor, h e wou ld h ave b een, t h e most powerfirl I personage in Paris. Such then was the political aspect of affairs on the2let August, 1631, about one month after 'the eventful escaPit from the. palace. Upon the morning of this day the. whole neighbourhood of Notre Dame was thronged, by crowds of persons, who assembled to accompany the .Coadjutor__ to Parilauciato., The sitting of the evening before, had been stormy, the yellow scarfs' had shewn in superior number in the grand chamber, as Conde had assembled his partisans to she* that the old and legitimate faction should not hurni.., liate the new. Gondi, on his part, prepared himself for the streggle, and all e ho sided with lime, were desired to meet him this day at the Paleis de Justice. It might , have been imagined that the Parisians were about to commence a battle, by the warlike preparations visible on I all hands. The artisans, in their shops, rubbed off the rust from arquebuses that had belo aged to their sires in ' the time of the League. Everywhere was to Le met with: persons hearing great sabres, and sinking beneath the weight of ancient cuirasses, while to judge by the martial gait of certain citizens known to be of a patale tempera ment, the affairs of the day seemed likely to turn out warm, since they were induced to mingle in the expected pro, ceedings. These preparations took a graver aspect in the vicinity of the cloister. There, might be recognised fewer of the clumsily armed citizens, and a far g eat e r number of sol diers, and well-mounted and well-equipped gentlemen. 111aterials were placed at the angles of the streets, so that barricades might instantaneously be erected, if necessary. ,Men were posted on the frowning towers of Notre Dame, with grenades. Several houses were closed, and boarded up, to serve the purpose of fortresses. But in the princi pal court of the Petit Archeveque were signs that could not be mistaken, and which presented the appearance of of an arsenal at the moment of an attack. Muskets, ar quebuses, and halberts, were ranged along the walls, while horsemen and foot soldiers pressed forward in that. vast square, now become too small for their accommoda tion. 7n the centre were six coaches which were in tended to convey to the Palais-de-Justice the chiefs of the party of the Queen. Lacqucys and pages in livery, attached to the Coadjutor, ran about executing various commands in the very busiest way, in the midst of the horses and heaps of arms. They cried aloud, they shouted, . while sonorous oaths made the holy echoes tremble. The confusion was enough to turn a timid man's brain, and the bustle of the scene was sufficient to raise an uneasy feel ing for the peace of the city of Paris. At the extremity of the immense buildings of the cloisters of Notre Dame, in a quiet chamber, the windows' of which opened upon a little court-yard, where the infer- . I nal noise . erithout fell upon the ear with but a murmuring sound, sat Fabien and Elizabeth, side by side, attired in simple costume. They conversed in under tones, with out one thought of the tumultuous passions that were ex cited in the breasts of thousands near them. Dame Ger main, who had come to pay her accustomed visit, stepped out every minute upon the balcony, to see if anything were going forward below ; and if a straggling cavalier happened to pass beneath the window, the officious but kind-hearted woman thus placed as a gaoler over them, duly reported the circumstance. Their conversation had taken a turn more sad perhaps than usual, and a profound melancholy seemed to have settled on their faces. In vain it was that Fabien en deavoured to console Elizabeth, and make her believe in what he himself, entertained no faith ; silence at length ensued, and they sat' like the images of despair. Elizabeth wept upon her husband's breast. At this moment the Scholar, out of breath, darted into the room. Although he was clad in black, a handsome rapier was suspended at his side, which gave him an un usual martial air. Astonished at his sudden appearance, Fabien and Elizabeth instantly rose, while Dame Ger main uttered a cry of affright ; but the brave Scholar, without troubling himself with the disquiet he had occa sioned, said to Fabien, hastily— " Quick, quick, Mons. Fabien de Croissi ; get ready; we only wait for you, to depart." " For me ?" exclaimed Fabien, overwhelmed with as tonishment; whither would you conduct me r " To Parliament." " Oh ! why is this, Sir P" asked Elizabeth, with terror, " Fabian will be recognised, arrested, or perhaps -11 " I can answer you nothing, lady, but that my lord has ordered me to summon your husband, and it is certain that he has good reasons for what he does. If Ido not deceive myself, he meditates certain projects by which he will be enabled to bring you out of the false and un happy position in which you are now situated." , " But how P by what means . " He has not told me any ; but merely given me in structions. He desires you, Mons. Fabien, to prepare to accompany him to the Palais de Justice, and that y ou attire yourself in the same costume which you wore on the day of your presentation to the , Queen. This he h as expressly bidden me to tell y ou. " This is strange," said Fabien, looking at Elizabeth. " Obey our protector," replied the countess, with con fidence; ‘‘ obey him, Fabien, without endeavouring to seek in'o his designs." 4 ' I obey," said Croissi, " because I have sworn to do so; but it would seem to me that some prudence and pre cautiop— " Come, come, throw over your shoulders your cloak, nd you w ill perhaps escape all notice. But, in the name .!* Ole saints, he qoick, 11onsienr tie Croissi ; I hear the rum;,ets s,uuding to lior , e hi the great court-yard, and h cur of aodier.ce is already past." Filieu placed a fervent kiss on the fair brow of his young wife. " Courage, courage, dear Elizabeth," said he, smiling; " I hope our benefactor will make some effort for our deliverance. I shall, I know, bring you back good news." " Heaven protect you," said the young wife, who at the moment of separation burst into tears. " Quick, quick," cried the impatient Scholar. Eustace accompanied Fahien to his chamber, and as sisted him in a speedy change of dress. According to the wish of De Gondi he clad himself in the costume he wore on the night of his visit to the palace, buckled on a good sword, and wrappe d hi s mant l e round him, so as to con ceal his face, an act not unusual at the time, as it was customary for masks to be worn in the publi:, streets by both sexes, when they wished to pass along unknown. The two young men descended the grand staircase, and entered the court-yard already described. Fabieil, at the first sight of the spectacle before him, was blinded by the brilliancy of the costumes of the gen tlemen and domestics who composed the escort. Nothing was to be seen but rich embroideries, gold lace, and arms glittering in the sunlight. Plumes of feathers of all co lours waved over the silken scarfs, which ornamented the persons of those present. De Croissi and the Scholar could hardly force a passage through this compact mass. They at length arrived at the door of a coach, which a valet who seemed to act as a master of the ceremonies, was endeavouring to close against the entry of three mus tached cavaliers who attempted to enter it. No sooner, however, did the valet perceive the two young men ap proach than he allowed them to take possession of the empty places, to the great annoyance of the cavaliers ; and after having made a mysterious sign to Eustace, was lost in the crowd. At length the Coadjutor appeared on the steps of the palace, and his presence was saluted by a thousand cheers. He had not yet assumed his Cardinal's cos tume : he wore lawn sleeves and a square cap, and his golden cross glittered on his violet camail. Around him was a magnificently-clad assemblage of gentlemen, amongst whom were MM. Chateaubriand, de Noirmon tier, de Fosseuse, de Montaiene, d'Argenteuil, de Se vigne, and many other illustrious men who adorned the time. " Vive le Coadjutor ! Vive La Fronde ! " cried the assembled multitude. The prelate graciously saluted his partisans, and thanked them by a smile. He then stepped into the first coach ; the gentlemen filled the others; and the cortege slowly left the court The train was of immense length. The whole of the way from Notre Dame to the Palais de Justice —the bridges, the quays, the streets—was crowded with the population, to witness the procession of the Coadjutor. Now might be heard the loudest cries of applause —now the hootings and hissings of a knot of the other faction ; while numbers remained silent, or deplored in whispers to each other, the evils that could not but result from such a proud party demonstration. But it was in the neighbourhood of, and around the Palais de Justice—the very sanctuary of the laws—that the most novel, and at the same time painful, spectacle was presented. All the approaches were guarded by soldiers under the orders of the Coadjutor. The armed citizens filled the taverns in the vicinity, while in the court was a dirty, ragged mob, armed with bludgeons and sabres. It consisted of '.he very scum and off-gather ings of the thieves and vagabonds of Paris, who would have received pay to shout for any one or any thing, by the hour or day. The Coadjutor descended from his carriage in front of the great staircase in the Rue de la Barillerie, which he had no sooner mounted than he was saluted afresh with cries of " Vive La Fronde ! " 0 Vive le Coadjutor ! " NeverthelesS, amidst all these enthusiastic acclama tions, the quick ear of the chief could distinguish several voices crying " To Mazarin ! To Mazarin ! " In the meantime he advanced towards the Great Chamber of Parliament, which is now the " Salle de la Cour de Cassation." The Scholar took care to place ' himself with Fabien in his way. The Coadjutor stopped opposite to them, and said quickly, but in a low voice, " So, so, trusty lieutenant ; I see you forget nothing." " Nothing, my lord." " It is well ; and you, young sir," continued he, ad dressing Fabien, " put your trust in Master Eustache as you would in me ; he will provide for your safety. Cou rage, cheer up ! all will—all shall go well." Gondi immediately passed on, and joined his noble companions who were awaiting him a few steps apart; , quietly resuming conversation with them, be entered the spacious hall. " You heard what my lord said, did you not ? You Must, you see, trust implicitly to me. Your part will be easily played. Nothing is wanted but for you to appear before the parliament : your friends will do the rest." " Before the parliament !" repeated Fabien. neither you nor I have any right to enter there." Well, we shall see that, sir," said the Scholar quietly. " Doubtless neither of us can seat ourselves amongst the members ; but there are in the hall far more quiet places, and the Coadjut o r ha s t a k en care to ['provide us with accommodation. Follow me, and before you speak, look well around you." ' While the Scholar thus spake, he conducted Fabien towards the door of the Great Chamber; but at the moment they were passing through, a voice was heard which predominated over the buzzing of the crowd as , sembled in the hall. At the same time the ushers pushed hack the crowd with their silver staffs, and cried aloud, " Make way for his Highness the Prince de Conde ! Make way for his Highness the Prince de Conti ! The two young men immediately crept between two pilasters, and saw the two princes mounting the stair case, attended by a retinue as numerous as that of the Coadjutor, and perhaps still more bri;liant. The gen tlemen, the pages, and the attendants, all wearing the yellow scarf, were covered with gems, feathers, and rib bons, producing a splendid effect. Their manners and conduct appeared more turbulent and insolent than the Frondeurs who recognised (-londi as their chief, and at the sight of several grotesque citizens of the opposite faction they laughed loudly and rudely at the objects of their mirth. " But As soon as the Princes appeared, the Frondeurs re tired rapidly to that half of the Chamber next to the Rue de la Barillerie, leaving the orhee• half unoccup d for the new arrivals. In ordinary times the two fac tions mingled until the chiefs entered the parliament; but on this occasion there seemed such a probability of a conflict, that the two parties would not be seen together an instant. The Prince de Conch; stopped in the midst of the Chamber, and leisurely examined his enemies. Conde was still young, and his figure, although not tall, pos sessed much masculine grace, and a boldness of can iage which, while it was remarkable, was still majestic. His costume was magnificent. He wore beneath his peer's mantle a yellow dress, the colour of his livery, decorated with pearls and rubies. An immense diamond sustained his hat, in the style of Henry IV. All the orders of knighthood of his native land, and many of other coun tries, glittered round his neck and at his breast. His examination was not long. He spoke a few words to his brother Conti, a little hunchback, clad nearly like himself, and who appeared to be his caricature, for while entering the Great Chamber he elevated his shoulders with disdain. " Now, now !" murmured Eustache, perceiving at length that the entree was free, and that several of the members passed through without difficulty. But, to the astonishment of the Scholar, Fabien remained motion less, his eyes fixed towards a grnup who Were talking loudly at some distance. Vireton followed the direction of his eyes, when his pre-occupation was at once ex plained. The two parties had traced a sort of line of demarcation in the Chamber between them by a tacit agreement, nor dreamt of passing over it till the mo ment for action occurred. Some few persons only of the different sides had advanced upon the limits of their re spective ground, exchanging between them gay pleasan tries,or at least politenesses. They recognised each I other ; they called each other to them, without either bitterness or anger ; although perhaps the next moment they would cut each, other's throats. Such were the manners of the times. Suddenly a great tumult arose on the side of the 'par.; tisans of Conde. A gentleman bearing a yellow =tocarf attempted to enter the Chamber, and was about to mix without ceremony amongst the nobles of his party ; but as soon as be was recognised, bursts of disgust and dis approbation were raised against him. His scarf of the colours of Cond6 was torn from him, and a thousand voices loaded him with reproof. " What do you here, traitor ? " cried one. "Do you come to spy again into our secrets to betray them ?—to sell them to the Coadjutor and the Court ? " " Turn out the traitor ! " " Turn out the spy ! He is unworthy of approaching his highness." He who was thus addressed with such bitter invec tives, who, pale and with disordered vestments, struck down the hands raised against him, was the Baron Albert de Croissi ! " Hear me ! hear me, gentlemen," said he, in a sup. pliant tone. " You—you—mistake me. I have always been faithful to the Prince ; and the proof is, that I have now an important secret to reveal to him. You have heard that a plot has been concocted against the life of his highness. I know the whole of the details. I will make him fully acquainted with them. He can then take vengeance against his enemies." Fabien shrunk back with horror. He had not thought his brother capable of so base and cowardly an act as that he meditated. " Still tricking," said a gentleman bearing the uniform of a captain of the guards of the Prince Conti. " Gen tlemen, let us turn out this spy of the Cardinal's, or at least let us send him back to his friends the Mazarins below." " Yes, yes ! let us send them back this double traitor," THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. cried a multitude of voices ; " he di, , graces the Priuce'B The captain of the guards, assisted by anther man,'seized hold of Do Croksi, and thrust him into-tae midst of the partisans o f G on di. " A present," cried the so'dier, " from the, new faction to the old. Take care of your precious jewel : we, ask nothing 'in return." • • -Shouts of laughter and applause welcomed this coarse jest. " Well," cried De Croissi, foaming with rage, pol,:t ing his finger towards the party of CondiC, " since you will have me your enemy, so be it. Brave people," said he, addressing the citizens who surrounded him, " I am now yours ; and I swear to you tnat I shall not be sorry to see you deal your lustiest blows atnongs; the insolent factionists." The citizens looked at De Croissi with a calm and steady gaze ; but the gentlemen on the side of the Co adjutor now surrounded him. " We want him not," cried the Chevalier de Laignes, Gondi's most intimate friend. " I declare that I know that De Croissi is personally obnoxious to the Coadjutor. We want no renegade. Let the new faction keep its presents to itself: we want no worthless gifts." A loud cheer welcomed this speech. Croissi endea. voured in vain to he heard in justification. " We want no explanations," said the Chevalier de Laignes. " Away from our ranks ! or we will turn you out by force." All that the passions of hate and shame could express upon the human face might have been read in the fea tures of the baffled and degraded De Croissi. His eyes rolled ; his teeth gnashed with rage. " Away, away ! ", said the partisans of De Gondi, endeavouring to push him - out of their company. " We, want you not." " If the traitor comes here, we will slit his ears," cried the captain of the guards. Croissi found hi mse lf b e t ween th e t wo parties, like a wild boar persecuted by the hunters. He threw fierce, glances around him, as if to seek some enemy on whom he could retaliate. He at length darted towards the captain of the guards, who appeared the most active against him, and said in a voice of thunder, " Although I have been disgracefully insulted, Marquis de Crenan, I am still a gentleman, and have a right to inquire the reason of this shameless conduct." " You a gentleman ! Pshaw ! Away ! " Well, then, I proclaim, in the midst of this assem bly, that you are a coward, and refuse to meet me in h'nourable combat." A terrific tumult now ensued. The friends of De Crenan insisted upon it that he should not accept the challenge, upon the plea that De ('roissi, by his trea cheries, possessed no claim to the distinction of a gen tleman. Others insisted upon it that the Marquis's honour had been called in question, and that he ought to meet his opponent, who thus had challenged him so publicly. Crenan appeared to be of this opinion, for he exchanged several words in a low tone with his antago nist, when, raising his voice, he said authoritatively, " Let no one now attempt to resent either the words or actions of De Croissi. I will reckon with him." The assembly seemed satisfied with this, for at the epoch of which we write the laws of the " duello" had certain privileges, which were held as sacred. " This evening, then, sir," replied Crenan, with a grave tone, "you can meet me without fear of interrup tion." He saluted De Croissi politely, strangely contrasting with his previous conduct. Albert immediately bowed and quitted the hall, without any one taking further notice of him. (To be continued.) SELECTIONS. A BEDOUIN BRIDAL.—W e were i n f orme d t h at t h e r bride was safely boxed in the vehicle carried in the midst ' of her friends ; but, that in order to manifest a due re luctance to quit the virgin state, it was requisite she should be forcibly carried off by her future husband, after a pro per degree of resistance had been manifested by the escort. No sooner had she reached the centre of the square, than the bridegroom with his adherent—some on foot and others mounted—approached from an opposite direction, and a scene of tumult occurre d w hi c h i t i s diffi cu l t t o imagine. The music (if such it could be called) struck up a louder livelier tune, swords were brandished, and amidst shouts and yells, under the discharge of musketry, the op posing parties—horse and foot—mingled in apparently deadly conflict, which ended in the defeat of the lady's party, who was then carried off in triumph by her amorous suitor.—(From Col. E. Napier's Wild Sports in Europe, Asia and Africa.) ETYMOLOGY OF MEOLS.—MeoIs or Meals, is a name which occurs in both the Eastern and Western counties of England, Mr. Baines, in his " Lancashire," traces the etymology of the word (North Meols) to the the Saxon dialect of the Teutonic melo, a grain of any kind, as "sand," in allusion to the numerous sand-dunes which form the sea barrier to this part of the country. "An Inhabitant of North Meals," in the Gentleman's Maga zine for this month, mentions an ingenious, though im probable devirations from the Greek, viz. me non, and alst mare, " no longer sea," because tradition asserts that the country was formerly inundated by the tides, where the feeble breakwater of sands now exists. The writer offers another derivation of his own, and asks, " instead of a Saxon, might not the term meol have a Celtic origin, and by a mere permutation of moel, a word still used in Welsh to express mountain or hill? In ancient MSS. the word is spelled meOle, moles, or meols indifferently." ORTGIN OF THE STORY OF BLUEBEARD.—The annual_ anthologies, published by Southey, were not much ap proved of by his friend, though he contributed to one of the volumes a p em of Bluebeard, which we believe was rejected. In defending it from some critical remarks made by Southey, Taylor has given an erroneous account of the origin of the legend. He says :—" The story of Bluebeard was invented by the Catholics as a satire on Henry VIII. Demonology was still credible under James I. I see no objection to dating the incident under bloody Mary. If the murder of half-a-dozen wives bad been ascribed to Bluebeard he would have been a mere mad man, beyond the limits of the artist's imitation, not a human being, and certainly not the centre of interest. If the story in the dark chamber had been pure tragedy, un spoiled by hanging up the head to t a lk lik e th e barber's block in the pantomime, the first wife would have been more interesting than the second, contrary to the law o: climax. So much by the way of apology rather than de fence." The story of Blueb-ard is as old as thee! usades, if not older, and, so far as its earlier forms can be traced. it was designed as a satire on the marriage of Christian ladies with Saracenic or Turkish chieftains. The earliest version of it with which we are acquainted is the Sicilian, the hero being one of the Saracenic chieftains who occu pied a piratical stronghold in Sicily before the Norman invasion. Some follower of the Guiscards brought the legend into France, where it was repeated in a variety of forms. One version of it., now before us, is named "La Comtesse de Saulx," and clearly belongs to the period of Norman romance, the language being the same as that of the " Chroniques Anglo-Normands." It is true that some foreign satirists of the reformation have identified Henry VIII. with Bluebeard, but, in doing so, they have clearly applied an old story instead of inventing a new fable.—Athenaeum. A GLORIOUS OPPORTUNITY FOR ATTORNEYS AND BARRISTERS.—If an attorney has any business at all he must do well in Melbourne, for his fees are inordinately high. Protesting a bill is five-and-twenty shillings ; noting, half-a-guinea : every letter demanding payment of account, if under twenty pounds, half-a-guinea; above twenty and under a hundred pounds. one guinea ; above a hundred, two guineas. Every summons (a summons being a short printed form) before the supreme court is charged six guineas : and the clients pay down at once, without any questions, too glad to do so, provided they can get rid of their temporary difficulties. Litigation is short and quick. Conveyancing is downright profit ; a deed, however short. conveying a piece of land, however trifling, costs five.goineas. • There are no stamps, and the work is done in an hour. More valuable ptoperties are conveyed by a deed generally charged nine guineas. My friend-has drawn twelve such deeds in his office in the course of one day ; and with these eyes. I have seen him earn six guineas in as many minutes, by appearing at the police office when a dispute has arisen between a master and his servant. All quarrels of this kind are arranged at the police office, when the amount of wages received by the servant does not exceed thirty pounds annually. An Attorney with brains cannot fail to gec a-head. lie has only to use despatch, and to begin and continue in one even and undeviating course. Our bar risters are few in number. There are but four of them. There is still a glorious field for a barrister of talent, and especially if be be conversant with the nicer points of conveyancing. Any clever barrister, up to the business, and a good speaker, might rely upon making immediately, at least, a thousand a-year; the community are looking and waiting for such a 1701111.-Blacktoo4.l.--- Spicaimpi ciir A RA ea VourtrircT.—Ancl really itmight have confused a less modest man than Tom to find himself sitting-next that coachman; for of all the swells that ever flourished a whip; Professionally, he might have been elected emperor. He did'nt handle hii gloves like another man, but, put them on—e*en'When he was standing on the pavement, quite detached froui the coach —as if the four greys were, somehow or other, at the ends of the fingers. It was the same with his hat.- He did things with his hat, which nothing but an unlimited knowledge of horses and the wildest freedom of the road, could ever have made him perfect in. Valuable little parcels were brought to him with particular instructions, and-he pitched them into his hat, and stuck it on again ; as if the laws of gravity did not admit of such an event as its being knocked off or blown'off, and nothing like an accident could befall it. The guard, too Seventy breezy miles a-day were written in his very whiskers. His manners were a canter ; his conversation a round trot. He was a fast coach upon a down-hill turnpike road • he was all pace. A waggon could not have moved slowly, with that guard and his key-bugle on the top of it. These were all foreshadowings of London, Tom thought, as he sat upon the box, and looked about him. Such a coachman and such a guard, never could have ex isted between Salisbury and any °the,. place. The coach was none of your steady-ving, yokel coaches, but a swaggering, rakish, London coach ; up all night, and lying by all day, and leading a devil of a life. It cared no more for Salisbury than i; it had been a hamlet. It rattled noisy ly through the best streets, defiled the ca thedral, took the will,/ cot tiers shat pest, went cutting in every cAhere, making everything get out of its way ; and spun glut g the open country-rood, blowing a lively de fiance out of its key-bugle, as it, last glad parting legai:9. Mar tin Chuzz hei to, NOT ICES. The Farmer,: and thP I,pagu,. ,c,•preph of IVTr . (;ei,rfie /),y, o 1 St. /;:••.v. u! .1,74:v - Irj 27, )8:1. Lo-0100 ; ti: i.er, Mr. D • th ,dy do, ,:t'nil re ' • ill ;lir` waHtre waged 11 e inc twists of Great ; and bis !upwittr , ticeitt the ti'itt'S 1N evert- way worthy of re,,titati,,n. In the parophlo: before us, which o tti ex , eossvelY ftir."ulattd, he lira fastened 11pOrt the grossest disfionesty, proving. every staieitn-,-- which he hrings for ward ton their own accredited repots, T,, tit ,, manu facturing and town populati,it he es.oimts !diem engaged in declaiming upon tile blessings of cneap bread, declaring that the corn-law has taken a third part of his food out of the working man's mouth, and poonisioi!, in the event of a reval of the corn-law, bread at three farthings a pound ; and again tur,titit: to the farmer and assuring him that free trade would not hive the efFi‘it of reducing prices a shilling per quarter below existing prices. As a specimen of Mr. Day's mode of treating his subject we extract from his pamphlet the tollowinz LRAGUE INCONSISTENCIES. In July last M. Bright, prior to his election, wrote to the freemen of Durham, that " the corn-law had, for the past five yea's, caused them to pay twenty shillings a sack extra fortheir - &Jur ;" and he implored them, " on his' bended knees, for -their sakes, NOT His, for the sake of themselves and their families, to claim the right to have cheap food." Yet this identical Mr. Bright had, in the previous April only, stated, in the theatre at Plymouth, that " the price of food was then probably much lower than it would be, if there were no corn-laws." Mr. Bright -saps, " I am a manufacturer, and Mr. Cobden is a manufacturer; and tve have - not the slightest love for low prices for thelbods'lve manufacture." No, and I dare say the farmer has no very treat love for low prices for the goods - hemantifitetUresl Mr. Bright attended a Meeting amouist,the farnlera:at Dorchester, when, he says, a con versation tb,thiii effect occurred :—One farmer stated, he had an estate 'worth ,about £5OO a year : £4OO went in interest on the-mortgage, £5O in expenses,.and the other £5O was all be got-out of it. He asked Mr. Bright what his conditiert •ivould be with a repeal of the corn-laws? I am now telling yott 'What the League itself reports. Mr. Bright replied, " Well, it would he a sorrowful condition ; but it is clear you would only , lose about -£5O a year !" This is what we lawyers would call a quietus " But," said the firmer; ''llthat should be thestate of things, will ' not all the landed;intirest be redUCed, - and the result be a national' bittilrintitcY ?" You mistake," replied Mr., Bright, "perhaps there would be a feiv in'dividnal'casesnr bankruptcy, but there would be no national bankruptcy." Can you &edit lbetie thinti ? 'UT read ' from any other paper than the League, you might have supposed the report to be inaccurate. But this League paper is, as they term it, "the accredited organ of their opinions," and a "correct record of their proceedings," I may, therefore, fairly quote it against the League with just the same force as I might quote a piper signed " James Rust," against Mr. James Rust, now in the chair. (Mr. Rust smiled, and nodded assent.) This " correct record" of the League'a sayings and doings, then, infornis us, that this farmer, who had only £5O a year, would, by a repeal of the corn-laws, lose' that £5O a year. He would not lose any more ! „ COBDEN'S CONSOLATIONS FOR THE BRITISH FARMER. This same Mr. Cobden, in a speech to the farmers of North Cheshire, said, " Ignorant men have told you, that we want to throw open the market to the Cot ei;, , ners ; and that, by doing so, we should ruin the agriculturist, and, as a matter of course, destroy the home trade. Now, we want to do just the opposite of this. Instead of wanting to destroy it, we want to double the home trade; and treble it. And now, farmers, hear.what he said to the people of Manchester, when he proposed to rid you of part of your home-market, and transfer it to the foreigner : " If the Americans will only put down their monopolising manufacturers, and we put down our monopolising land owners here, when our election time comes, we will lay the Mississippi Valley alongside of Manchester, and we will have a glorious trade then !" " The Mississippi Valley has been styled, par excellence, the wheat-growing region of America. League authority informs us, ' that its soil is fertile beyond description, and abundantly wa tered by the finest springs and streams. Its climate is clear and salubrious. It possesses unequalled facilities for forei• n intercourse and commerce, by means of its great lakes and rivers. The most distant parts of it are now reached in twenty days from Liverpool.' The land is mostly sold in fee-simple by the government to the first purehaser, at ss. 6d. an acre. It is unencumbered by tithes, high taxes, or poors' rates, and its whole produce belongs to the cultivator alone. The Mississippi Valley, which Mr. Cobden proposes to lay alongside of Manches ter, could alone supply this country with every bushel of corn it requires for consumption. Indeed, League autho rity says, ' A few years would enable it to feed the world.' And yet, British farmers! Mr. Cobden seeks to persuade you that those men are ignorant' who tell you, that he wants to throw open the market to the foreigner !" On another occasion, he told the same people :—" Our doc trine is, let the working man ply his hammer, or his spindle, or his shuttle, and let the Kentucky or the Illinois farmer, by driving his plough on the richest land on the surface of the earth, feed this mechanic or this weaver, and let him send home his produce in exchange for the products of our operatives and artizans." Is this the way: farmers, that Mr. Cobden proposes to " double and tre ble" your home market, by transferring the manufacturing portion of it to the Kentuckian or the Illinois farmer ? Is it not, rather, evidence of a desire to carry out the plan, which another free trader, Mr. Joseph Hume, seemed to contemplate, when, in the House of Commons, he " maintained that England might exist and prosper as a purely manufacturing and commercial country, if it did not grow a single bushel of corn—if, in exchange for its manufactures and minerals, it imported from the cheap corn-producing countries every (router of wheat required in this rm .b 1D ~ It , ... rut 5.a.10, D• " let distrust be banished ! Why should we not be friends?" The League paper struggles to equal all that I have cited from Messrs. Cobden and Bright, on the sub ject of cheap tread. It says, "The finest Georgiana wheat can be laid down at the door of our factories at 30s. a quarter, at d we are now (October, 1839) paying 70s. or 80s. for the worst." " Spain could land the very best wheat in England at 405., for which we are now (October, 1839) paying 675." "In the American port of Cincinnati alone, there are a million quarters of wheat, which we could purchase at 16a., or less than one-fourth the price we are now compelled to pay for our home grown pro duce !" Now, that very League, in the same year, says, when writing of the landlords, that they "stay sately do justice to others, without injuring themselves ; for much has he2ii said to show that the money price of grain will ntt be lowered, even bar a total repeal of the corn-laws." Again : It tells its readers, on the last day of 1810, " that Mr. William Witham Barrett, of Manchester, was offered a large order for manufactured goods, from a Hamburg', merchant, if payment would be received in the best Baltic wheat, to be delivered, free of all charges, at Hull, at the rate of 30s. 6d. per quarter." And yet, on the 20th of January last, it is boldly said, that " the League do not want to render corn cheap." And here is a little seal, (holding it up,) bought only last Thursday, at the League 4411ce, Fleet-street, for 4d., and on it is this sentiment, " Cheap bread, and good trade." FASHIONS FOR MARCH. 'From the London and Paris Ladies' Magazine of Fashion.) Under the name of robes de chambre, very pretty morn ng ne'glig6 dresses are made, of plain cachemeire lined with gaufri satin, which is a pretty novelty for this pur pose ; they are ornamented by two biais, one matching the lining and revers, the other of dark velvet, with eimp between ; they are also made of printed or Braganza vel vet, closing from top to bottom with bradenboargs ; the sleeves are wide and long, with cuffs or a l'Orientale to the elbow. and tight under ones of the same materials, lacing up so as to show the one of muslin ; the open sleeves, with under ones, are so generally in use now that much attention is paid to the make of these white ones ; some are of guipure or rich lace, but many are made of inlets t one row of which is almost tight over a ribbon, the the other row forming bouillon; the caps fashionable with this toilette are of embroidered India muslin trimmed with Valenciennes face, having double brides of ribbon, one pair tying, the others loose, or of guipure lace, the only ornament bang lappets of the same. Gimp and braid are still much used, as well as embroidery, on dresses ; there is a new style of braid, with the edges pearled, which has a richer effect; some indoor redingotes are made with revers, showing the chemisette made of inlets and colonnes of work ; the skirt is also with revers, which if not joined shows the under skirt full trimmed. For carriage dresses the high bodies are ornamented with braid or braden. bourgs. Walking dresses are generally plain in the skirts, though fashion tolerates a double flounce of moderate width, or a plisse of ribbon down the front, the corsages high and tight, as well as the sleeves ; the principal thing observable in ball dresses is, that the corsages are worn higher, some even what are termed half high ; drapes and Grecian corsages are fashionable, the sleeves are short, and frequently entirely covered by Oriental sleeves of lace, and the berlhes are worn` so - deep-sip-erten-to the sleeve; for dancing the skirts are shorter, others con tinue long, double and treble skirts continue in favour, but the newest style is a single skirt en biais, for tulle, white, pink, blue, green, &c. The hair is much orna mented by flowers, mounted either en couronnes, with bunches forming diadem, or twisting round the coiffure; ringlets or bandeaux are equally fashionable. Many re silica of gold or silver are twisted round with gauze or velvet, in the turban style ; some fanchons of cachemire or crape line with silver fringe are merely fastened on the head with two diamond pins. Dress hats of black lace, with bugles, or of blond, or pearls, or pink crape, have a bouquet formed of tips of feathers, fastened by an emerald brooch. The spring bonnets have not yet appeared in great va riety ; the forms continue of moderate size, one of the newest trimmings is fluted ribbon round the front, which is frequently lined with guipure on the capotes, with wide runners ; lace often replaces the ribbon. Capotes of pale coloured satins are often covered with black lace and or namented by a drooping marabout. A SCENE IN THE LORDS.—On Tuesday, after a delay of a few minutes, and a dead pause—there being no busi ness before the House—The Lord Chancellor, sotto voce — "Campbell, have you nothing to say ?" Lord Camp bell shook his head. The Lord Chancellor.—" Brougham, oh, do say something." Lord Brougham would not be seduced. He shook his bead too; but in the meantime rose and took his seat on the woolsack. This motion without a speech had as much signification in it as a thou sand speeches without a motion. Their lordships laughed heartily at this entertaining pantomime. After the pre sentation of a few petitions, on one of which Lords Camp bell and Brougham contrived to have a speech r.-piece, their Lordships adjourned to Thursday,—Morning Post. SECOND EDITION. Standard-office, Three o'clock. LIVERPOOL COTTON MARKET.—This DAY. The demand for Cotton to-day has been barely suffi cient to constitute a market, and the sales are estimated under 1,000 bales, without change in prices. LIVERPOOL CORN EXCHANGE, THIS DAY. (From Messrs. R. Makin Sr Sons' Circular.) We had no fresh arrivals of Grain worth naming up to Friday's market, and either Coastwise or from Ireland li;tle is reported of subsequently, whilst Flour and Oat meal from the latter source, we have to note a fair sup ply; and from abroad. chiefly from Odessa, 3740 qrs. of Wheat, with 1532 qrs. India❑ Corn and 3213 barrels of Flour from the United States. We have again to report a very slender attendance of country millers, and our local buyers taking barely enough to serve their immediate wants, free Wheat of every de scription, at this day's market, appeared to move sparingly into consumptiin ; all good qualities, notwithstanding were held with unabated firmness at last week's rates, the ordinary kinds alone being rather easier to purchase. Flour continuing to meet a very dull sale, English and Irish receded in value Is. per sack, and Foreign, duty paid, being. unsaleable, must be considered cheaper. The malsters holding out for lower prices, Barley was depressed Is. per quarter. Malt, however, upon a moderate demand, maintained our last quotations. Beans and Pease, continuing to sell to retail consumers, supported former prices. MONTHLY ACCOUNT of Imports, Duties Paid, and Bonded Stocks in Liverpool, viz.:—lmported ;nto Liverpool from the Ist to the 29th Feb., 1844. .F reign— Wheat, 7596 qrs. ; Barley, 601 qrs. ; Pease, 1058 qrs. ; Indian Corn, 1532 qrs. ; Flour, 13,847 brls. British and Colonial -Wheat, 19,453 qrs. ; Barley, 5118 qrs. ; Oats, 30,541 qrs. ; Rye, 3 qrs. ; Beans, 945 qrs. ; Pease, 593 qrs. ; Oatmeal, 33,810 sacks ; Flour, 28,412 sacks 1150 brls. Duties paid in Liverpool from the Ist to the 29th Feb., 1844. Foreign—Wheat, 1368 qrs. ; Barley, 95 qrs. ; Oats, 6 qrs. ; Beans, 1338 qrs. • Pease, 217 qrs. ; Indian Corn, 317 qrs. : Fl our , 75 brls. Colonial—Wheat, 87 qrs. ; Pease, 107 qrs. ; Flour, 1005 brls. Stocks of Grain, Flour, and Oatmeal, in Liverpool, 29th February. In Bond—Wheat, 19.631 qrs. ; Barley, 2664 qrs. ; Oats, 551 qrs. • Beans, 20,253 qrs . ; P eas e, 636'2 qrs. ; Flour, 51,112 Carrels. ARRIVALS OF CORN, From the 20th to the 26th Feb., 18i4, inclusive. LAND. , CANADA IRE- COAST. TO "r-j" REIGN. Wheat .. Ors. 2142 6) i 1 374) Barley Qrs. 146 Malt Qrs. 66g 470 Oats Qrs. 2022 342 Rye Qrs. Beans Qrs. _ _ Pease Qrs. ShelledßarleyQrs. Indian Corn. Qrs. Rapeseed Qrs. Oatmeal .. Loads i 5562 i 2 7 Flour. .... Sacks 5757 , 13 i Ditto this. ! 1 3312 le 1 1531 TOTAL. 5942 145 1139 2364 5581) 5 770 3312 In Ire a 11Td and - Coastwise , Wheat. .— qrs. Malt, qrs. ; Oats, 350 qrs.; Deans, qrs. ; Oatmeal, 1 loads; Flour, 908 sacks. EXPORTS. —Foreign. Malt, qrs. • Oats, 280 qrs. ; Pease, qrs.; Indian Corn, 0 qrs. ; Oatmeal, 2 loads ; Flour, 432 brls.--Ireland.._ Wheat, 65 qrs.; Beans, qrs ; Indian Corn, 102 qrs. ; Oatmeal, 200 loads; Flour, sacks, brls.— Coastwise. Wheat, qrs. ; Barley, 180 qrs. ; Malt, qrs.; Oats, qrs. ; Beans, 8 qrs. ; Pease, 53 qrs. ; Indian Corn, qrs. ; Flour, 147 sacks 524 brls. Average prices of Grain, for the week ending Feb:24, 1344. Wheat 555. Id, I Barley 335. 7d. Oats 19s. 7d. I Rye 325, led. Beans:. 30s. 4d, I Pease.. 31s. 2d. Aggregate average of the six weeks. Wheat 52s 1171 Barley 33s 5d I Oats 195 2d.; Rye 32s 9d Beans.. 29a. Ild. Pease.. 30s. 9d. Duty on Foreign Grain, &c. this week. WheatlBs 0d I Barley bs Od Oats .. . 7s Od I Rye.. 10s 6d Beans 11s 6d Pease .. 10s 6d I Ind. Corn Os Od Flour los 10d . - - Ditto from British Colonies out of Europe. Wheat.. Is. Od. I Barley , — Os. 6d. I Oats ..2s. Od. I Rye., is 6d Beans 3s. Od I Pease 2s. 6d. I Ind. Corn Os. Od. I Flour .. Os 7id Liverpool Averages, week ending Ferbuary 27, 1844. Wheat, 1650 qrs., price 60s. Bd. Oats, 37 qrs., price 18s Bd. A SPECIMEN OF YOUNG ENGLAND. - --During the de bate last Tuesday evening, on Lord John Manners's mo tion in favour of Don Carlos, Mr. Hope, the member for Maidstone, rose to address the house at tbe same moment with Mr. Montagu Gore. The hon. member was in full evening dress, and had a double telescop e opera-glass in his band. On rising he was greeted with much laught er , and his friends behind him, pointing to Mr. Gore, pulled him hack by the coat. The hon. member gravely raised hi s o pera-glass,. and turning round, sl ow l y surveyed those who had committed the trespass upon the nether part of his outer garment, and then resumed his seat amidst shouts of laughter.—Times. BIRTHS, DEATHS, AND MARRIAGES The fifth annual report of the Registrar-General of Alarria ! res, in England, (lately issued trom. ;.so•nerset !loose.) embraces a Loge mass of deeply '-a4:l importa n t matter• abd deal hs, in the years 1839, 18411, :lan were as iollows ; M I L arri , 123.166 122 665 122.491 • Deal. s The riarri•i4es in 1841 were 1 in -130; births, 1 in 31 ; deaths, 1 in 46 of the population ; the average of the two preceding years having here, of marriages, 1 in 127 ; births, lin 31; deaths, lin 45. Thus in 1811, 769 mar riages, 3,217 births, and 2,160 deaths, we re reg i stere d to every 100,000 of the: population. The marriages have diminished slightly in number every year. The falling off was chiefly in the metropolis, in Cheshire, Lancashire, Yorkshire, and the western division of the kiugdom. There was a remarkable decrease in Monmouthshire. The fluctuation is coincident with the depression or pros perity of industry or trade in various parts of the country. The greatest number of marriages took place in autumn, and the smallest in winter. The report contains an ab stract of the number of widows and widowers re-married in the last half-year of 1841. It appears of 65,498 women married, 5,888, or 9 in 100, were widows ; of the same number of men, 8,476, or 13 in 100, were widowers. During the years 1839, 1840, and 1841, the average an nual number of marriages was 122,777, so that 106,957 men, and 111,765 women, or 218,740 persons, marry every year. One in every 72 males, and 1 in 72 females, are mar ried annually in England. The proportion of re-mar riages is greatest in the metropolis, and in the northern, western, and York divisions, where the mortality is high est, and where families are therefore most frequently broken up by the death of the husband or wife. Under the age of 21, 5,362 men, and 16,285 women, were mar ried. This is a startling discrepancy. 33 in 100 men, and 49 in 100 women, married in 1841, signed the regis ters with their marks. Of the 122,496 marriages in 1841, 114,371 took place in conformity with the rites of the Established Church ; 13 by special license ; 972 by super intendent-registrar's certificate. By bans, 94,298 were married; by licens , -, 19.088. Of the 8,125 marriages not performed in the Established Church, 5,882 were in re gistered places of worship, 2,064 in superintendent-regis trars' offices, 66 between Quakers, and 113 between Jews. During 1841, 151 additional buildings h ave b een reg i s t ere d for the 6blditifisatoti Virmarttagea. • BIRTHS. In 1841, 512.158 births were registered; in 1840, 502,303; 1839, 492,574. Three births were registered to every two deaths. The rate of births over deaths'during the three years, (1839, 1840, and 1841.) was 474,575, o r 158,192 annually. More births take place in winter than in summer. Years. I Winter. Years. Winter. Spring. SumtnerlAutumn.l Total. 1839 .... 123,543 128,806 120,115 120,110 492,574 1840 .... 132,305 129,059 ' 119.822 121,117 502,303 1841 .... 133.720 129,884 i 123,868 1 124,686 512,150 T0ta1.... 389,568 387.749 363.805 1365.91311,507.027 Mean.... 129,855 129.250 121 268 1 121.971 502,345 In the last two quitters of 1841, of 218.554 children registered, 15,839 were illegitimate ; so 1 in 16 of the children born in England is not born in wedlock. In England 64 to 1000 children are born illegitimate. The proportion in France is 71 in 1000. Of the legitimate births the boys are to the girls as 105.4 to 100.0; of ille gitimate births the boys are 108.0 to 100.0. DEATHS. The deaths in the year ending December 31, 1841, amounted to 343,847. Upon comparing the deaths in 1840 and 1841, there will be found a decrease of 16,787. The deaths were more numerous (99,069) in the winter of 1841 than in the winter of any preceding year ; but in the spring the decline commenced, which reduced the mortality in the following quarters below the mean mor tality of the four years. The deaths in the four winter quarters, viz., those of 1839, 1840, and 1841, were 385,764; in the four summer quarters, 305,333; the deaths in the four springs, 355,248; in the autumns, 338,662. If the mortality were uniformly at the same rate as in the winter, 391,059 deaths would happen annu ally ; if at the same rate as in summer, 302,827 deaths would be registered. These exhibit the striking effects of cold upon mortality; also of the crowding and privation s to which a considerable portion of the population is ne cessarily more exposed in cold than in warm weather. The births and deaths are most numerous in winter, mar riages in autumn ; whilst the smaller number of births and deaths occur in summer, and marriages in winter. An elaborate tabular statement, we are happy to say, establishes a decrease of the high rate of mortality which prevailed in 1839 and 1840 in the manufacturing divisions. • The marriages and births are most numerous where the mortality is highest. March 5, 1844. DOMESTIC. FIRE. AND Loss Or LTYEs.— About half-pas't two _ o'ci,,ek On Tuesday mor n i ng l os t, a ti re i. rn ix out 0n . t . 17 p•ernises oecapied a s a shop an d dwelling-hence sl . l. * Aaron Jacobs, i n St. Ebhe-street, ()stout. Mr. Jaco b s was a gentleman of th e Hebrew persuasion, a rabbi, , !'f tiai believed to be very wea l t h y , Hi s tanilv cmisiz•tti wife, a son, and three daughters, and two ledgers in _t_u_c house. Of these, s,s escape d i n a state o f nu dity. Mr' Jacobs assisted in letting his wife, son, and tuo daughter down by the window ; but n o thi ng was seen o f the eldest daughter, Rebecca, aged 15, who must have perished , to gether with her father. It i s suppose d that the latter , after the escape of his wife and other children, went tow small closet, at the top of th e h ouse , to save s ome pro perty, and was suffoc a t e d b e f ore h e could make his escap e ; His body was found with th e f eet an d h ea d b urn t off, 81 : 1 ' a quantity of gold, sil ver , an d ot h er va l ua bl es b en eath It. The house was completed gu tt e d. FEVER FROM DEST ITUTION .—D r. S out h woo d Smith has just given his annua l report upon t h e state o f !h i ! London Fever Hospital d ur i ng th e past year , f rom wino. it appears that the admi ss i ons d ur i ng t h e per i o d were 1462. being an excess of 418 ab ove th a t o f any prece di ng Year' A large proportion of the i nma t es were agr i cu lt ur al Iv bourers or provincial mech an i cs , w h o h a d come to L o ndon in search of employment, and who were seized with . the malady either on the road or soon a f ter t h e i r ar rival, evincing the close conne x i on b e t ween f ever an d d est i tu tion. These poor creatures ascribed their illness, some of theta, to sleeping by the sides of h e d ges , an d ot h ers to a wa nt of clothing, many being without stockings, shirts, shoes, or any apparel capable of defending them from the incle mency of the weather ; while the larger number attributed it to want of food, being driven by hunger to eat raw vegetables, turnips, and rotten apples. The gross mor tality was 151 per cent. An unprecedented number of nurses and other servants of the hospital were attacked with fever, namely, 29, of whom six died.—Globe. MATERNAL CRUELTY. —on Monday last, an inquest was held at Longborough, on the body of an infant child, by John Gregory, Esq., when the followiny particulars were given in evidence :—The mother, Mary Garner, Was the wife of George Garner, of Sheepshead, from whom she separated about a year ago, having formed a connection with a man named Higgs. The deceased child she took with her, which was then about twelve months old. At that time it was a fine healthy child. For some 15 week! she hired lodgings, where she and the child lived, and it and w water was deposed ateer and she was givingi n t he the habit mixture x o t f u boilingre twice a d op iv a l to the child, to quiet it, while she would leave it for hours to associate with Higgs. The guilty pair then went to housekeeping, from which time the child altered veil' much for the worse. Sarah Flinders, mother of Mary Garner, having her suspicions awakened, she and a neighbour (Mary Allwood) demanded to see the child, when permission was refused until she threatened to send for a constable. On going into the room the child was found lying on the floor covered with a few rags, saturated with water, its lower extremities paralysed, the_ whole body emaciated to the last degree, and deaf and blind. The child was then taken from the inhuman mother and her brutal paramour, when it lingered till Saturday last, and then died. A post mortem examination was made, when the corpse was found to be totally destitute of mus cular substance; but the immediate cause of death was an effusion of water on the brain, which was probably pro duced by the treatment it had undergone from its unna tural parent. A verdict of manslaughter was finally returned against Garner and Higgs.—Leicestershire Mercury. THE LATE ABDUCTION OF A YOUNG LADY.—There appeared last week a paragraph respecting the extraordi nary abduction of a young lady named Jane Page, only 13 years of age, by a young farmer of the name of George Gardner, from a seminary in High-street, Warwick. £5O reward was immediately offered for their apprehen sion ; but the police were unable to t race th em out u ntil last Saturday night, when they were discovered quartered at an inn in Douglas, in the Isle of Man, having been away just a week, and captured full 250 miles from their native place. Gardner was instantly taken into custody by the police, and having been conveyed to Stretton, near Warwick, he on Wednesday last underwent an examina tion at the public-office before Mr. J. Fullerton, a county magistrate, the following being the substance of the evi dence, which will be found to be of a very remarkable character :—The young lady is the daughter of a wealthy farmer at Stretton, and, upon her attaining her 18th, comes into possession of a large estate. The prisoner is also very respectable and wealthy, and being desirous of be coming a farmer, he was apprenticed to the young lady's pa:ent, so as to be instructed in the several branches of agriculture. He was considered as one of the family, and freq ently had an opportunity of visiting the young lady whilst at school, but, owing to her very tender age, no ides was entertained by their friends of an intimacy existing. On last Saturday week the prisoner went to the seminary, and informed the Miss Kimberley, the proprietors, that he was instructed to convey Miss Page to her parent's residence, as she was going to stay there a short time with a few friends ; and, under such circumstances, she was easily parted with.—The magistrate, in reviewing the case, remarked that if the prisoner's defence should be that the young lady was a willing party, it would not alter the offence, as he had absconded with her at such a tender age that she was considered not to know right from wrong- He was then fully committed to take his trial at the next assizes at Warwick, being liberated on two sureties of £3OO, and himself in a like sum.—Times. LAMENTABLE SUICIDE.—On Sunday morning week, about eight o'clock, the inhabitants of Caistor were thrown into the greatest consternation by the discover! that the Rev. George Watson, the respected vicar of that parish, and rector of the adjoining village of Rothwedf had committed suicide under peculiarly distressing cif' umanea t t i v n e . a r a r. we; itss . neorian of avery: p . pearance min a , or disrespect, as to exhibit, when under excitement or trouble, strong marks of mental aberration. Some months ago Mr. Watson's morbid sensibilities led him to write a letter, in consequence of some fancied slight, to the wife of one of his parishioners at Rothe' , Ili which letter was made the subject of complaint to the Bishop, and led to the issuing of a commission of inquiry under the Church Discipline Act. On Friday week that commission was executed, and the commissioners report ed—not on the innocence or culpability of Mr. Watson, for of that they were not the judges—but merely that there was a prisaa facie case for further investigation ; adding, however, to their return the fact, that Mr. Wat son appeared to be labouring under great eccentricities and infirmity of mind. This cloud, over a reputation _which had hitherto been unsullied, was too much for Mr. Watson's sensitive mind to bear. On the Saturday his previous distress had settled into despondency, and be expressed fears that the affair would, to use his own ex pression, " get the better of him." These fears were • soon to be realized. The unfortunate gentleman, about seven o'clock on Sunday morning, rose from his bed, and, in his dressing gown and slippers, went into his sitting-room, where he appears to have loaded a gun and, discharged its contents into his month. His skull was dreadfully shattered, and he was found, as before stated; about eight o'clock, of course quite dead. The coroner's jury came to a unanimous verdict—" That the deceased had destroyed himself while labouring under mental de rangement." Mr. Watson was 44 years of age. He was presented to the vicarage of Caistor, by the Rev. W. F. (now Dr.) Hook, Prebendary of Caistor, in 1833, and to the rectory of Bothwell, by Lord Yarborough, in 1835. CURIOUS CASE OF SWINDLING.—A stranger, in the garb of a female, about three weeks ago walked into the bar of the Dog and Gun Inn, Coventry. Her cheerful conversatio n , and insinuati ng ma nner , so won upon the landlady, (26. Hales,) that imtead o f ! proceeding by the; Banbury coach, which she particularly wished, she was , induced t o s t ay a ll n i g h t, b e i ng unprepa red with clothing to encounter the inclemency of the season. The worthy. , hostess becoming more arid more charmed with the in teresting stranger, several days elapsed in the muturl in terchanges of affection and confidence, when her friend remarked that it might appear strange to Mrs. Hales that e etsrhwdd there aauhve e vn: cardinetenesgai atrnti offered tkeioennityhmoi sew h t tasur Birminghamyn. strangeronc Ban k , ti o . e roewflWould , mon ey. xs o 61we0 complied,do d tI : o ' oe kux T nap h hnoe e av rdc have e a iwt c rot t htxrne i inquiry and u r.hiyen was following d i omtwoai made make for na k m ei ck t 'e ri ' y i l i n n e v o s i f Bir mingham Branch of England Bank ; but how to get t company me in your gig ? I have always consulted you her friend pro dentamt manager, my ns t say s h og h t e e e conr , B :aa ‘ i A ‘ ocr r l : - . receive had been paid to the account of Miss Watts, to which a negative was given. Great surprise was manifested by Miss W., and the manager was r eques t e d to fil l up a cheque for Mrs- Hales to receive the amount, provided she did not pre sent it herself. On their way home, Miss W. appeared concerned at her disappointment, and suggested to Mrs., . H. that, as her present exigences required a little ready money, she would place the check in Mrs. Hales' hands for a loan of £6O, and would give her £4O for the ae: commodation. The bait was swallowed by Mrs. H., wit ° forthwith produced fifty-five sovereigns and a £5 note. Mrs. H. proud in the company of Miss W., and Miss W. highly delightedwith Mrs. H., spent several agreeable days. during which she once paid a vi s it t o t h e seat o f Lord Craven, at COOmbe Abbey, with Mr. Hales' horse and gig. On , being informed by the housekeeper, Mrs. Robinson, that her ladyship was not at home, Miss W refused to leave her card or name, say i ng she was well known to her ladyship, and expected soon to be Lady Montague. On Monday, the stb, a request was again made for the horse and gig to convey her to Market Har borough, where Miss W. had an aunt, who she had learnt, was not likely to live. No objection was offered. and Mr. W. anticipating the use of mourning, borrowed the habiliments of Mrs. Hales, very generously offered for her convenience, together with a valuable watch" Thus equipped, she arrived at Harborough, and alighted opposite Mrs. Saunt's, observing she was afraid her &sat was dead, as the blinds were down. The man Was de- sired to go to Swan's hotel and wait for her. Miss walked forward to the Union inn, where she took sonic brandy and water, with a biscuit ; and after staying about two hours, went t o th e S wans to inform John that her au Dt was very ill, and wished her to stay a few days at Her; . ' borough ; he must, therefore, return without her, an bring the gig for her on Tuesday. the 13th, discharging the expenses of John and the horse, with a promise also of 10s. for his journeys, and 4s for what he paid on th e road. On the return of John, Mr. and Mrs. Hales hi: came somewhat concerned respecting their fair friend and on the following morning dispatched John with o policeman to Market Harborough, to t a k e proper care o f Miss W. This, however, was found to be unnecessalt as the clever and interesting visitor had taken care i n t ' herself, by procuring a seat in the omnibus for Londo n i on the previous evening. We might add, the dress o _ 4 under garments obtained of Mrs. H., with the watch, .e ft considered worth from £l5 to £2O; while those o `,, behind are estimated t 2s 6d. Miss W. has not: Sigit" been heard of,— Oxford Herald, rA4