The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-03-19 00:00:00

q- 1 ittraturt. POETRY. THE FIRESIDE. Airt.—" The days we went a gipsying." I have tasted all life's pleasures—l have stptched at all its joys— The dance's merry measures, and the revel's festive noise ; Though wit flash'd bright the livelong night, and flbw•ed the ruby tide, I sighed for thee—l sighed for thee, my own fire side ! hi boyhood's dreams I wandered far, across the o'cean's breast, In search of some bright earthy star--some happy isle of rest; I little thought the bliss I sought in roaming far and wide, Was sweetly centured all in thee—my own fireside! how sweet to turn at evening's close from all our cares away, And end in calm, serene repose, the swiftly passing day ! The pleasant books, the smiling looks of sister or of bride, All fairy ground cloth make around one's own fireside! The poet sings his deathless songs, the sage his lore repeats, The patriot tells his country's wrongs, the chief his warlike feats : Each godlike mind in books enshrined still haunts my fireside. Oh let me glance a moment through the coming crowd of years— Their triumphs or their failures—their sunshine or their tears— now poor or great may be my fate, I care not what betide, So peace and love but hallow thee, my own fireside. Still let me hold the vision close, and closer to my sight : Still—still in hopes elysian, let my spirit wing its Ilizht ; Still let me dream, life's shadowy stream may yield from out its tide, .A mind at rest—a tranquil breast—a quiet fireside ! CARDINAL DE RETZ, 0R THE COURTIER'S PLOT. BY PETER POPJ or, Esq. (For the Liverpool Standard.) CHAPTER XVI. Which, being; the last, it is left to speak for itself. FABIEN felt, as may be naturally expected, the utmost eagerness and anxiety to communicate to Elizabeth the happy results of this memorahle meeting. The young wife was greatly surprised that the Queen should wish to see them that evening at the palace. The knowledge of the Queen's forgiveness caused her to shed abundant tears of tenderness. " The Queen can then pardon me," she exclaimed. " Oh ! Fahien, you cannot conceive what I have suf fered in the thought that my royal mistress should des piseme." The remainder of the day was passed by the now happy young couple in forming plans for the future. Nevertheless the delight of Fabien was somewhat clouded by the recollection of the cruel manner in which his bro ther had been treated that day in the hail of the Palais de Justice. Nor did he forget that in the evening the meeting was to take place between him and the captain of the guards of the Prince de Conti. Whatever might have been the wrongs his brother had done him, he could not but experience the utmost apprehension as to the possible result of the combat. Elizabeth noticed his pen sive air, but she could not control her feelings of de light at her approaching reconciliation and meeting with the Queen. Fabien saw no more of Paul de Gondi for the rest of the day. He remained in his cabinet surrounded by his chief partisans, and a crowd of persons of distincti,,n, who thronged to the cloister to hear the events of the morning. At the close of the day the number of visitors began to abate, and Fabien and Elizabeth were about to retire for the purpose of preparing for their visit to the palace, when the Scholar, gaily dressed, entered their chamber. He was followed by two servants, who brought with them most sumptuous dresses. " What," said the Scholar, smiling, " not yet ready ; " have you forgotten that in an hour's time you will be presented to the Queen. I know how it is ; Monsieur cannot tied a dress plain enough for so mournful and so lemn an occasion. However, here is one which you are entreated to accept; and I hope you will lose no time in getting ready." The servants having laid down the dress, left the charn her. " What," said Fabien, " is this splendid dress for me: It does not become m 1• humble state." " Oh ! this is not a 11," continued the Scholar, enjoy ing the astonishment of the pair before him ; " Madame will find in her apartment a happy match to this." " But--tell us—pray—" " I shall tell yOu no more," continued the Scholar, " than this, that a carriage will shortly be ready to con vey you to the palace. You ivill have Footmen and pages, bearing torches ; in fact you will go in right royal state." " But in the name of all the saints, good Eustace, to whom are we indebted for these delicate attentions and rich presents ?" " And to whom should you be indebted if not to the brave and gallant Paul de Gondi, coadjutor of the Arch bishop of Paris, and who soon will be Cardinal de Retz !" " What, does he still think of us, overwhelmed as he "He has thought of your dress, of Madame de Croissi's jewels, of your expenses, of your carriage, of the number and quality of those who will accompany you. He has thought of every thing, seen to every ihing. This has all been done in a few words which he whispered to me in the presence of the great lords, the princes, and dukes. He gave me his orders; I ordered his confidential servants; and his wishes have been obeyed, as they always are, like enchantment. But be quick, you must not keep the great personage you are about to visit in waiting ; you know she does not like that." Elizabeth laughed heartily at the rapid chatter of the delighted Scholar, and quitted the room to attire herself. Fabien immediately arranged his dress. Elizabeth quickly returned, apparelled in a costly and elegant court dress. We need not tell the reader how lovely she looked in the picturesque costume of the time. Eustace could not but give vent to his admiration at the elegant appearance of both, and he did not scruple to felicitate Fabien especially on the loveliness of his bride. The Scholar left the room, promising to return quickly; and Elizabeth, in her happiness, could not refrain from shedding tears cf happiness. Eustace soon made his ap pearance, intimating that the coach was in waiting to convey them to court. Fabien took Elizabeth's hand, and led her to the court-yard, where a rich coach was drawn up. As Vire ton had stated, there were many pages in gay liveries, men on horseback, and attendants bearing flambeaux, ready to accompany the young pair to court. They quickly took their seats, and were passing slowly out of the court-yard, when a sudden disturbance at the gate somewhat arrested their further progress. A number of soldiers in the pay of the Coadjutor were assembled about the entrance, and the lacqueys and grooms ap peared to be listening to a vivid discussion which was taking place between the chief of the Coadjutor's guards and a strange gentleman who bore the uniform of an officer of rank. As the crowd only opened to allow the carriage to pass, Fabien caught several words of the al tercation. " I tell you, sir, that you cannot see my lord if you have not an order expressly signed by him," exclaimed the chief of the guards of Gondi ; " I know all important per sonages who come here, and your face is not familiar to me. Retire, sir, I beg ; we cannot allow anybody to have an audience with his eminence ; his enemies have no doubt too great an inclination to get rid of him." " I swear to you, sir, that I am well known to the Coadjutor, although not of his party. If Ido not tell you my name I have good reason for concealing it at present, but I must speak to the Coadjutor of an affair of honour which admits of no delay." At this moment Fabien looked through the window, and cast upon the stranger an earnest gaze, and turned pale, on recognising the Marquis de Crenan, the captain of the guards, his brother's antagonist. As soon as the coach was outside the gate Fabien 0!- dered it to be stopped, and leaped out, bidding Eliza beth not to be alarmed at his ahseuce. He touched the officer on the shoulder, whose discussion with De Gondi's captain was becoming still more animated. " Mons. de Crenan," said he, in a low voice, " one - word if you please." On hearing his name mentioned the Marquis turned quickly round, but seeing a gentleman in a court dress, he followed him instantly. " Mons. le Marquis," said Fabien, " excuse my in trusion ; hut may I ask if the interview you desire with the Coadjutor has any reference to a certain duel ?" " Who the deuce told you that," interrupted the (liar quis, with surprise ; " hut you were perhaps in the ante chamber to-day, and know as much about the affair as any other person. It is about this duel that I wish to - see the Coadjutor." " The Coadjutor himself ?" Crenan kept silent for a moment, as if he hesitated whether he ought to reveal his secrets to a stranger. " Faith," replied he, " you may perhaps help me out •of this embarrassing situation. I confess that it is not the Coadjutor that I so much wish to see as a gentleman who is residing in this vicinity." " Monsieur Fabien de Croissi P" " Just so. Do you know him*? " I am the person." " In that case," said the Marquis, in a grave voice " I have a me lanchol y dut y to p erfbr m towards you. Will you fellow me ?" " Where ?" " To see your brother ; he is dying." " My brother—Albert ; where is he P" " There," said the gentleman, pointing to a coach which stood in " La Place du Parvis," in the deep shade of the towers of Notre Dame." Fabien, in great excitement, quickly followed his guide. At that moment he forgot all his brother's crimes, a n d his only desire wa s to see him again. The Marquis mounted the step, and said softly,— " I have fulfilled your wish, Monsieur de Croissi, and I have brought the brother you spoke of to see you." " Iy brother," replied a feeble voice from the car riage ; " has Fabien then come to soothe my dying mo ments P" The Marquis saluting him, stepped to the ground, m: king a sign to Vabien to take his place, retiring a few paces, to avoid witnessing this mournful interview. Yes, 'tis I, Baron," said Fabian, in great agitation ; " it is I—your brother, who supplicates your pardon for any injuries he may have done you, as he freely forgives those which you have heaped on him." The dying man was silent for an instant. " Coma," said he, as if talking, to himself, as his thoughts wandered ; " let me speak a few words to him before I die. Sir," continued he, in a different tone, but of profound bitterness, " you are the son of Madame de Rieul, and will become by my death the Baron de Croissi. I have wished to be the first to salute you by the title, and this wish is doubtless that of a good bro ther." The strange manner in which these words were spoken made Fabien.shudder. " Brother," said he, sadly, " why do you suppose me to harbour sentiments which are very far from my heart. Perhaps your wound is not mortal ; and if you will per mit me to conduct you to the cloister, I am sure the Co adjutor will see that every care is taken of you." Albert evidently trembled on the seat on which he was stretched. " No, no," replied he, groaning, "the night is too dark to see the palor of my countenance, and the depth of my wound. A few moments, brother, and you will be the possessor of your inheritance. Every moment I feel as if I should suffocate. A learned doctor has told me I have no hope, and I wished but to see you, and say a word or two to you. I—" The Baron now grew faint. Suddenly rallying, he continued— " Doubtless you have thought me highly blamable ; but reflect what would have became of you had it not been for me. I saw you but three times in my life ; I knew little of you ; you were the son of a person I de tested, and whose origin I despised. I kept you, and considered you as my vassal. Judge, then, of the efforts that I found it was necessary to make in the exhibition of any interest—any affection towards you ; and reflect upon what my auger must have been when I found you opposing my will. Why you were but a poor serf, and thus to refuse to sacrifice your life for the sake of your relation ! Judge then—oh ! pain, pain." These frightful words were accompanied by horrid ravings. Fabien spoke not, fearful of irritating still more his dying brother. De Croissi seemed sinking. " Well." said he at length, " he happy, I shall not see the light again. My hotel is near, you may take possession of it. Go to Croissi, the vassals know you ; they will see in you their equal—their lord—ha ! ha ! Take all my wealth; but with it I leave you the curse of a wish to increase it, with a hope that you may never succeed--" He stopped, and in the next moment his delirium still increased. " But I forgot," continued he, laughing horridly ; " I forgot. You are a prisoner in the cloister of Notre Dame. You cannot peaceably enjoy your possessions— you will soon be a state prisoner. 1 know the courtiers well ; you will be forgotten by them. Your protector will be compelled to abandon you. Life shall not be spread with flowers, in spite of your tender conscience ; and your betrothed—she shall not wed you—she too is condemned. It is consolation to know that you cannot enjoy your inheritance." Fabien could not restrain his grief. At this moment Elizabeth, who had become alarmed at Fabien's long absence, now came up to the carriage, preceded by the pages with flambeaux. The sudden light of the torches displayed to the dying man the rich habiliments of those near him ; he raised himself up, and with an expression of deadliest hate said—" So then this is the lady of your love ; she has followed you then. What does she here, thus attended and thus attired ? Who has bestowed upon you those gay garments' Have you already seized the manor of Croissi ? " Ha! ha! 31ademoiselle ; you are now about to wed my brother, now that I cannot oppose your union." " Monsieur le Baron," said Elizabeth, greatly moved at the pitiable sight before her, " we are already married." " Married ! married ! oh, imprudent pair ! What P married !—with the gates of the Bastile open to one, and the veil of the Carmelites ready for the other. Married, ha ! ha !—" Elizabeth could not but gaze upon De Croissi with as tonishment ; she saw he was dying, but she did not under stand the mainspring of these wild exclamations. Fabien pressed her hand. Are you then so ill, Monsieur le Baron ? Oh ! live, to smile on our union !" _ _ " What ! are you then pardoned ?" suddenly said Albert, the truth rushing upon his wandering brain. " The Queen, my brother, has deigned to grant both of us forgiveness, and we are now on our way to thank her at the palace." " To the palace !" said the Baron, with a convulsive movement—" You ! do you go to the palace P By some sly door, no doubt. I never went to the palace but by the great gate. Oh, my brain ! how it wanders. "What do those flambeaux and those pages mean ?—and is it by the door of honour that you enter? Speak ! speak !" The young couple turned away their heads. "It is true—it is true ! You and virtue have obtained more than I, with skilfulness and knowledge. Happiness ...:11 ...La,. 1. t anrj cenrnPd i" Ills words faded away—the malediction hung on his lip., unpronounced. The bad man was dead. Elizabeth and Palen remained a minute or two ab sorbed in grief and chilled with terror, until the Marquis de Crenan and the scholar, tearing them away from the mournful spectacle, forced them into their coach. The carriage containing the body of Albert proceeded slowly to the Faubourg St. Germain, where the Hotel Croissi was situated. Fabien would have accompanied it thither, but the scholar shouted " To the Palace !" and to the palace it proceeded, where Fabien Baron de Croissi and his lovely bride attracted considerable attention, and found favour in the eyes of Anne of Aus tria, who did not shortly after forget to throw fortune in the way of the protegees of Paul de Gondi. Fabien and Elizabeth had seen enough of courts, and soon sought happiness in a country life at Croissi, where it need not be told the Scholar was a frequent and wel come guest—the richly beneficed friend of Cardinal de Retz. NOTICES. A Word for the Church. By the Rev. E. G. Carr, 8.A., Minister of St. John's, Guernsey. Perris, Liverpool. This little work is an answer to the Rev. C. Hargrove's " Reasons for retiring from the Established Church, and joining the Plymouth Brethren." The author does not profess to enter into any formal defence of the general reasons which may be advanced for attachment to the Church of England, hut he certainly has presented an irrefragable reply (which he alleges to be his object) to the objections brought forward against the Establishment by a seceder from her pale. This secession on the part of Mr. Hargrove, Mr. Carr proves, even on the showing of the former, to have been most unjustifiable ; and, though we marvel that any one with ordinary intelligence or scriptural perception could forsake the church of his fathers for the reasons advanced by Mr. Hargrove, yet those reasons have, in the good providence of God, only afforded the grourdwork for this triumphant defence of the Church's faith and discipline. The following remark of Mr. Carr is entitled to much more weight than may appear due to it on a first reading. We wish it were candidly pondered over by some who so flippantly bandy objections against the Church : " Undue importance is attached to the alleged causes of separation from the Church of England, and no svffi cient weight (perhaps I might say, no weight) attached to the strong reasons for adhering to her communion : and thus, in magnifying to the greatest possible degree mat ters of difference, and passing lightly over the advantages of union, many have been led to adopt a course which, it is to be feared, is more the result of bias or instability, than of sound and sober views of scriptural truth." Churchman's Monthly Review. Seeley, London. We wish we could recommend this periodical as it de- I serves. Both in the style of its articles and the force of its arguments, it accords more with our tate than that of any other religious publication with which we are ac quainted. The reviews are extremely vigorous, but equally temperate; and whilst the articles and formularies of the church are defended in their entireness and truth, it is only from a manifest conviction in the minds of the wri ters that they can be proved to be true by " most certain warranty of holy scripture." We see here no tampering with political dissent, no compromise with infidel liberal ism, and " no peace with Rome" ; whilst, at the same time, we are not pained and shocked with that vulgarity and unseemly trifling with common sense which meet one at every page of such publications , for instance, as the Christian Remembrances. We think we recognise, in many of the articles, the inimitable pen of the author of " Essays on the Church " and " Perils of the Nation." The number for March contains an admirable pape r on Baptismal Regenera tion, in which the following points are established : — First , that neither scripture nor general usage fi'es and confines the term "regener!ition" to one exclusive sense; second l y , that scripture views the new birth as a spiritual and permanent change, and nowher e connects it with baptism as its exclusive cause, but the very reverse ; and lastly, that the absolute construction of the church services is contradicted, in the fullest man ner, by those formularies th e mselves. The writer, who is evidently a person of matured judgment and sound scriptural knowledge, expresses his deliberate conviction at the close of the article, that " the doctrine of a vital change of heart, effected always i n baptism, and baptism only, is one main opiate of Satan for the delusion and destruction of immortal souls." Amongst the other no tices is a paper on the appeal to the members of the So ciety for Promoting Christian Knowledge. The Christian's Monthly Magazine. Simpkiu. Mar- shall, and C0., - London. This is another sound defender of the "faith once de livered to the saints," and of the church as by law es tablished. It i s rather a more elaborate publication than the preceding one, but combats successfully the errors in faith and discipline of those who, neglecting the fountain of living waters, and resting chiefly in the "stinking pud dles of man's traditions," have fallen into all sorts of fancies and vain conceits. We have the number for March--being the third since its commencement—and in it we have various exc e ll en t ar ti c l es un d er ea ch of the fol lowing heads, which constitute generally the divisions THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD under which the varied contents of the magazine are ar ranged : Theology and Philosophy—Art and Antiquity— Miscellaneous Literature Correspondence Monthly Register— , Editorial Retrospect. SELECTIONS. AD LIBITUM ORNAMENTS TN SINGING.—One night, while Handel was in Dublin, Dubourg having a solo part in a song, and a close to mace, ad libitum, he wandered about in different keys a great while, and seemed indeed a little bewildered, and uncertain of his original key ; but, at length, coming to the shake, which was to ter minate this long close, Handel, to the great delight of the audience, and augmentation of applause, cried out loud enough to be heard in the most remote parts of the theatre, " You are welcome home, Mr. Dubourg !"—Dr. Burnells Sketch of the Life of Handel. RAPID TRANSIT.—An attorney's clerk may steam it to St. Petersburg and coach it to Moscow, and be back be fore the long vacancy is over; aye, though he do Warsaw and Berlin by the way. The shop boy in Liverpool, after his Saturday's labours are ended, embarks his cherished person on board a steamer for Dublin ; stares at Nelson' s pillar in Sacville-street, and Wellington's obelisk in the Phoenix Park ; and, after hearing Paddy's opera in the cathedral where Swift once presided, and visiting two or three meeting-houses (the best schools for flirtation in the world, as is known to every visitor to the Irish metropolis,) he may re-embark about bed-time— when he may reckon with tolerable certainty upon being home in time to open his master's shop, at the wonted hour, and soberly assume the cares and duties of the week.—Modern Traveller. ANECDOTE OF THE EMPEROR FRANCIS 11. OF AUS TRIA.—There is a story told of the Emperor Francis 11., which I believe to be perfectly true, and which fully cor roborates Prince Metternich's description of the parental character of that monarch's government. During the period that the cholera decimated its victims at Vienna, the emperor walked in the streets. At an obscure portion of the city he met a funeral. It was evidently that of a poor and wretched being. There were no friends to sur round the bier, and the pauper's funeral was conducted with rapidity and inconsideration. " Halt!" cried the emperor; " I shall follow the remains of the deceased to the grave." "He was only an obscure person," was the reply, " and he has died of the cholera." " Never mind that," retorted the monarch, "he was one of my chil dren,—for are you not all my children ?" and the emperor followed to the grave the remains of the obscurest of his s übj eet s. —Fraser's Magazine. CONSUMPTION OF OUR MANUFACTURES AT HOME AND ABROAD.—If we compare the proportion purchased of our manufactures, which is taken off by foreign nations, for the export to whom we are required to make the sa crifice of our domestic agriculture, with what is consumed by our own native population, whether in the British is lands or in our colonies of British descent, the difference is prodigious, and such as might well, even for their own sake, make the Anti-corn-law League pause in their ca r:er of violence. From the tables compiled from Porter's Parliamentary Tables, and the population of the different states to whom we export, taken from Matte Brun and Balbi, it appears, that while the British population, whe ther at home or abroad, consume from £3 to £5 a-head worth of our manufactures, the foreign nations to whom we are willing to sacrifice the British agriculturists, take off per head only as many pence. In preferring the one to the other, therefore, we are, literally speaking, penny wise and pound foolish.—Blackwood's Magazine. SCREW PROPELLING.—MR. GRANTHAM'S PLAN.— The paper by Mr. Grantham on screw propelling, which was read at the Institution of Civil Enigneers, on the 13th ultimo, was followed by a discussion on the subject, which continued for three successive evenings, to the exclusion nearly of all other business. Mr. Grantham stated on the second evening that his object was not so much to point attention to the construction of the vessel which had been at work in Liverpool, as to illustrate an important fact which his experiments had brought to his knowledge, namely, that a propeller might be constructed of such dimensions that the number of revolutions it would be required to make to obtain a high velocity, should not much exceed those of the ordinary paddle-wheel; whence he deduces this conclusion, that the usual condensing marine engine might be applied direct to the propelled shaft, not requiring the intervention of spur wheels or bands, which are at present considered by many engineers as insuperable objections to the general adoption of screw propelling.—Mechanics' Magazine. LONGING OF THE IRISH PEOPLE FOR EDUCATION. — There is no country on the earth in which either educa tion, or the desire to procure it, is so much reverenced as in Ireland. Next to the claims of the priest and school master come those of the poor scholar for the respect of the people. It matters not how poor or bow miserable he may be; so long as they see him struggling with po verty in the prosecution of a purpose so laudable, they will treat him with attention and kindness. Here there is no danger of his being sent to the workhouse, commit mitted as a vagrant—or passed from parish to parish, until he reaches his own settlement. Here the humble lad is not met by the sneer of purse-proud insolence, or his simple tale answered only by the frown of heartless contempt. No—no—no. The best bit and sup ere placed before him ; and whilst his poor, but warm-heart( d entertainer can afford only potatoes and salt to his own half-starved family, he will make a struggle to procure something better for the poor scholar; " Bekase he's far from his own, the crathur! An' sure the intintion in him is good, any how ; the Lord prosper him, an' every one that has the heart set upon I...4.l' l —Carleton's Traits anti atones. PRINCE METTERNICH AND THE EMPEROR ALEXAN DER.—In the art of penetrating the weak points of his superiors, and making himself necessary to their frailties, the Prince de Metternich has shewn himself a master. It was in the midst of revelry during the Congress of Vienna that the Emperor Alexander grew tired of the fastidious bacchanalia. When the Prince de Metternich perceived this, all the gorgeous tournaments, balls, and dinners, were at once superseded by petite& soirees, given by him self, at which the Princess de CI g was the queen. The emperor was much struck by her beaaty and fascina tions, but her family withdrew her from Vienna. The Prince de Metternich, aware of the influence which her conversation exercised over the mind of the emperor, still contrived to secure her presence at Trappau and Laybach, to neither of which, probably, would his majesty have proceeded but from the expectation of there seeing her. All was purity and virtue, but the illustrious lady in ques tion so spell-bound the monarch that, with her aid, the Austrian chancellor contrived to drive away ennui from the monarch, and kept him to the great questions which had constantly to come before him until all were settled. —Fraser's Magazine. THE ROYAL LINE OF " STEWART."—The Stewarts were a race as steadily unfortunate as any one recorded in history. Their misfortunes continued with unabated succession during 390 years. Robert the 111. broke his heart because his eldest son, Robert, was starved to death ; and his youngest snn, James, made a captive. James I. was assassinated in a monastery near Perth. James 11. was killed by the bursting of a piece of ordi nance near Roxburgh. James 111., when flying from the field of battle was thrown from bis horse, and murdered in a cottage into which he had been carried for assistance. James IV. fell in Flodden Field. James V. died of grief for his wilful ruin of his army at Solway Moss. Henry Stewart (Lord Darnley) was assassinated and blown up in his palace. Mary Stuart was beheaded in England, after an imprisonment of 17 years. Charles I. was be headed at Whitehall. Charles 11. was exiled for many years. James 11. lost his crown, and died in banish ment. Anne, after a reign which though glorious was rendered unhappy by party disputes. died of a broken heart occasioned by the quarrels of her favoured ser vants. The posterity of James 11. remained wretched wanderers in a foreign land, and the race is now extinct. Unpublished Historical Reminiscences, by a Lady, deceased. CORN LAWS —A still more important consideration is that a repeal of the Corn-laws, even if it were to be at tended with all the consequences which the most sanguine of its advocates to predict, would evedently, in a few years, bring us back to the point from which we started, with an increased population and all our difficulties on an enlarged scale, unless the system on which we have been proceeding for the last fifty years be altered. The rapid increase of manufacturing industry during the war did not prevent, if it did not rather occasion, the miseries and dis tress under which we are now suffering. All the worst evils at present existing, ignorance demoralization, infant and female labour, increase of destitution, grew up simul taneously with a more rapid advance of manufacturing wealth, than it is possible to expect from the repeal of the Corn-laws. The temporary prosperity of the period from 1833 to 1836, when profits were high, food cheap, and when our export trade took a new and extensive develop ment, terminated in the crisis of 1837, and the lingering decline under which we have been ever since suffering. It is evedent that the doctors who describe a repeal of the Corn-laws as a sovereign remedy for all the diseases of so ciety, are only one degree more respectable quacks than these who earn a living by puffing the all-potent pills of Morrigon, the hygeist.—Essay on the Causes of the Country's distress in Me " Atlas" Newspaper. A RETROSPECT OF LIFE, BY ROBERT 1311RNS.—The following is a passage in a letter from Burns to Mrs. M`Lehose, under the assumed name of Clarinda :—" The family of misfortune, a numerous group of brothers and sisters !—they need a resting place to their souls. Unno ticed, often condemned by the world—in some degree, perhaps, condemned by themselves—they feel the full en joyment of ardent love, delicate tender endearments, mu tual esteem, and mutual reliance. In this light I have often admired religion. In proportion as we are wrung with grief, or distracted with anxiety, the ideas of a com passionate Deity, an Almighty Protector, are doubly dear, 'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright; 'Tis this that gilds the horrors of our night.' I have been this morning taking a peep through, as Young finely says, the dark postern a time long elapsed;' and you will easily guess 'twas a rueful prospect ; what a tis sue of thoughtlessness, weakness, and folly ! My life re minded me of a ruined temple : what strength, what pro portion in some parts !—what unsightly gaps, what pros trate ruins in others? I kneeled down before the Father of Mercies, and said ' Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son!" I rose eased and strengthened. 1 de spise the superstition of a fanatic; but I love the religion of a man. "Ile future,' said Ito myself, is still before me :' there let me ' On reason build resolve — That column of true majesty in man !' ' I have difficulties many to encounter,' said I ; ' but they are not absolutely insuperable—and where is firmness of mind shown but in exertion ? Mere declamation is bom bast rant. Besides, wherever I am, or in whatever situa tion I may be, ' 'Tis nought to me, Since God is ever present, ever felt, And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.' '' Ittrsn LAN DLORDS.—The two greatest faults of Irish landlords arc these :—ln the first place, they suffer them selves to remain ignorant of their tenantry ; so much so, indeed, that they frequently deny them access and redress when the poor people are anxious to acquaint them with their grievances ; for it is usual with landlords to refer them to those very agents against whose cruelty and rapacity they are appealing. This is a carte blanche to the agent to trample upon them if he pleases. In the next place, Irish landlords too frequently employ ignorant and needy men to manage their estates ; men who bare no character, no property, or standing in society, beyond the reputation of being keen, shrewd, and active. These persons, Sir, make fortunes; and what means can they have of accumulating wealth, except by cheating either the landlord or his tenants, or both ? A history of their conduct would be a black catalogue of dishonesty, oppression, and treachery. Respectable men, resident on or near the estate, possessing both character and pro perty, should always be selected for this important trust. But, above all thin; s, the curse of a tenantry is a per centage agent. He racks, and drives, and oppresses, without consideration either of market or produce, in order that his receipts may be ample, and his own income large.—Carleton's Trails and Stories. THE EARL OF OXFORD'S PROCRASTINATION.—Even Swift's raillery was inefficatious to root out a besetting sin entwined with Oxford's nature, and which he had dis covered soon after his introduction. " His lordship has long designed an answer to the letters he received from the bishops, and he said ten times he would do it to-mor row." Many years afterwards he was told himself by the earl's private secretary ;—" Lord Oxford has received your letters: he will answer them, but not to-day • 'sicut o/im', nothing can c h ange hi m ." I n th e cr i s i s o f his fate, as we learn from the diary, it was just the same. ''April 7th, 1813. I dined with the Lord Treasurer, and though the business I had with him is something against Thurs day, when the parliament is to meet, and this is Tuesday, yet he put it off till to-morrow. I never saw his fel low for delay. To-morrow will be a very important day; all the world will be at Westminster. Lord Treasurer was as easy as a lamb." Immersed in too much business for a man of the most exact habits to perform, the time that could not comprehend unavoidable engagements he dissipated in such as were superfluous. He used to send trifling verses from the court to the Scriblerus Club, and would come and talk idly almost every day and night with them, even when his all was at stake. In private life and to his friends, he was equally the dupe of the morrow, nor could ever begin the business of the week on the Mon day morning. The simple act of sitting for his picture for a friend, he delayed till the opportunity was gone. Swift writes to the Earl, October, 1722, " I have now been ten years solicitinr , for your picture, and if I had solicited you for £1,000 ' (I mean of your money, not the public) I could have prevailed in ten days. Nor did he prevail at last, for death interfered with the old earl's contemplated fulfilment of his promise. " I have often heard my Fa ther say," his son writes for Wimple, " that he did de sign to sit for you, but did not. I shall certainly take care that you shall have a picture."—Totnsend's History of House of Commons. HER MAJESTY'S CROWN.—The crown of her present Majesty was, it is well known, made by Messrs. Rundell and Bridge. It is composed of hoops of silver, which are completely covered and concealed by precious stones, surmounted by a ball covered with small diamonds, having a Maltese cross of diamonds on the top of it. In the centre of this cross is a magnificent sapphire. In front of the crown, above the rim, is another Maltese cross, in the middle of which is the large unpolished ruby which once graced the coronet of the chivalrous Black Prince, and, underneath this, in the circular rim, is another immense sapphire. The arches inclose a cap of deep purple, or, rather, blue velvet, and the rim of the crown, at its base, is clustered with brilliants and ornamented with fleurs-de lis and Maltese crosses, equally rich. There are many other precious gems, emeralds, and rubies, sapphires, and small clusters of drop pearls of great value. The follow ing estimate of the value of the different jewels contained in this magnificent diadem has been published : Twenty diamonds round the circle, £l5OO each Two large centre diamonds, £2OOO each 4,000 Fifty-four smaller diamonds placed at the angle of the former lOO Four crosses, each composed of 25 dia mond 5.... Four large diamonds on the tops of the crosses.. Twelve diamonds contained in fleur-de lis lO,OOO Eighteen smaller diamonds contained in the same 2,000 Pearls, diamonds, &c., on the arches and crosses • • • • lO,OOO Also one hundred and forty one diamonds 500 1 , Twenty-six diamonds on the upper cross 3,000 Two circles of pearls about the rim 3OO £111,900 We know not upon what data this statement was made ; but it will be observed, that the value of the sapphires and rubies has not been included, and we have reason to believe that were it possible to re-collect and again bring together such precious gems, the estimate just given would fall much below their intrinsic value. The old crown made for George 111. weighed upwards of seven pounds; but, notwithstanding this gorgeous display of jewellery, independent of the gold cap, the present crown only weighs nineteen ounces and ten pennyweights. It measures seven inches in height from the gold circle to the upper cross, and its diameter, at the rim, is five inches_ This crown is worn by her Majesty whenever she opens and otoses, in person, the houses or parilauuent.—Poly. tecnnic Magazine. POPULAR IGNORANCE OF THE HISTORY OF THE LAST FIFTY YEARS.—The part which England took in the long and mighty struggle against the despotism of de mocracy, the efforts of ambition, the injustice and oppres. sion of France towards many lands and people, the iniquitous tyranny of Napoleon Buonaparte and his satel lites and slaves; and the sacrifices that same England made in behalf of true freedom and European order, peace, and justice, have not been brought sufficiently before the minds of our young men now advancing from eighteen to thirty. They have heard of a national debt of eight hun dred millions of pounds sterling; but they have also " heard that the sum was expended in unjust and unneces sary wars." Many of them—tens of thousands—have not been undeceived; and so LIE FIRST has obtained a tavieiorhdeacradstolefreaagHhoaLnad vry ALLIANCE,g ener a andl circulation. have been olhdeytha have Duke of Wellington joined " the Despots of the told North" to make war on the liberties of Germany, Poland, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, and Portugal. Tens of thou sands of our healthy and stalwart young men believe this, —for no one has set about proving to them the contrary ; and so LIE SECOND has obtained currency. They have have been told, that Buonaparte was a deliverer; that he had sublime notions of government; that he wished to emancipate the world ; and that he carried on single handed a mighty war against armed sovereigns, in order eventually to establish the independence and the happi ness of the people. Now. if popular books had been written in profusion, and circulated cheaply by hundreds of thousands of copies, giving to the young men of our epoch facts, documents, undeniable events, all sheaving the contrary, LIE THIRD would not now be believed in as it is by those who are soon about to become the fathers of the next generation. These same young men have heard that England would have been richer, happier, and more respected, provided she had remained neutral from the very commencement, in the long European struggle of which I write, and that our manufacturers would not now be struggling with closed markets and against high protecting duties levied by foreign governments on Eng lish produce; and that our garners would have been full, and our provisions cheap and abundant, and our poor well employed, and our labouring classes at ease and happy, if , we had not engaged in that " long and ruinous war.' And no one has taken the trouble, nay the pleasure. to shew to them. that but for the conduct England then pur sued we should have had no manufacturers at all,—no allies, no government, or at least no independent one; and that the Gaul would have printed the mark of his iron hoof on our soil, and would have subjected our necks to his iron yoke. Thus LIE FOURTH has been propagated, and the history of England, from ]793 to 1815, has been backwards, or topsy-turvy, by our now youths of from eighteen to twenty-five years of age.—Frasees Magazine. SMOKERS, MALE AND FEMALE.—Every body smokes here : man, woman, boy, and girl, almost down to the baby just escaped from the cradle ; but still I was not prepared for the novel spectacle of the very " sylphides” themselves strutting about with huge, undisguised, verita ble cigars in their mouths, puffing and smoking like so many yellow chimney-pots, that they resemble much both in symmetry and colour. Smoking I detest, as one of the most unsufferable and nauseous follies of the day. Strange that men should persist in this offensive habit that all women with pretensions to a nose at all civilized unite in condemning; yet custom has inured men to this. But a woman's smoking was a barbarism I hardly sup posed myself destined ever to see ; and, certainly, the first time 1 came plump upon one of my whity-brown at tendants, with her wreath on one side, her wings all awry, sucking, for dear life, at the end of a flaming cigar, my astonishment and the tobacco smoke together quite took my breath away ; that was an impression neither time nor distance will either dim or remove. A full-dressed sylphide sitting on a painted bank of flowers, where I first spied her, exhaling the smoke of a coloss .1 cigar, and of a horse-killing strength, with all the nonchalance of a veteran smoker, was an outrageous novelty that ab sorbed me quite : and whilst I stood gazing there, a call summoned the volcanic troupe to the stage, and each one deposited with jealous care her precious weed on bench and chair, with growling menaces neither to touch nor taste, and then they betook themselves to their mystic gambols, meant to charm the love-lorn " Reuben" to their fairy haunts. It requires faith in one's art to pre serve illusions amid such scenes. The men of all degrees smoke and smoke everywhere; in the houses, in the streets, in the theatres, in the cafes, in the counting-room, eating, drinking, and truly, I suspect, sleeping, they smoke—smoke—smoke It is odd that strangers don't scent Havana far out at sea. The gentlemen, however, are addicted to a small paper cigar, called " cigarito", containing a small quantity of pulverized tobacco, of the best flavour, which is by no means offensive. No true Havantco even moves a foot without his portable armory of cigaritos, as indispensable to him as his quiver to the wild Indian. He may get along comfortably without his coat, hat, or neckcloth ; but without his cigarito, he could ndither walk, talk, nor even think. The first thing that follows a salutation of friends, meeting no matter where, is to pull out their pacquets, light the sociable weed, another talk ; it gives life to Havaneco, he opens his heart and mouth at the same time, and fills up the gaps of conversation. A cigar ought to be the national em blem of Cuba ; certainly, nothing is more completely identified with them in my mind, and I shall never recall a friend to memory who will not be enveloped i❑ a soft haze of tobacco smoke.—Fanny Elssler at the Havana : Fraser. CHEAP PRICES.—Cheap prices of grain are like the Amrceta cap in Kehatna ; the greatest of all blessings is the greatest of all curses, according as they arise from magnitude of domestic production, or magnitude of fo reign importation. Of the first we had an example du ring the five fine years in succession, from 1830 to 1335, during which the foreign importation was practically abo lished by the abundant harvests, and consequent high duty on grain under the sliding scale. This was a period, as all the world knows, of universal and unexampled commercial prosperity. Of the second we had a memo rable example during the five bad years in succession, which elapsed from 1836 to 1840, in the course of which the corn-laws, from the effect of the same sliding scale, and the continued low prices, were practically abolished ; and importations, at the close of the period, amounted to 2,500,000 quarters, and, on an average of the whole, was little short of 2,000,000 of quarters. And what was the result ? The exportation of 6,000,000 of sovereigns in a single year to buy grain ; an unexampled pressure on the money market ; commercial embarrassments, long-conti nued, and severe beyond all former precedent the con traction of ten millions of additional debt in four years, and the creation of a deficit which at length rose to the formidable amount, in 1842, of £4,000,000 sterling ! And what first dispelled this distress, and arrested this down ward and disastrous progress ? The fine harvests of 1842 —the blessed sun of its long summer, followed by the more checkered, but also fine summer of 1813, which again gave us plenty, derived from domestic production, arid consequent general and increasing manufacturing as well as rural prosperity.—Blackwood's Magazine. INFLUENCE OF PRINCE METTERNICH OVER THE ROYAL FAMILY OF AUSTRIA.—The influence exercised by the Prince de Metternich over the royal family of Aus tria is one of those subjects to which that statesman never refers, and which be much dislikes to bear conversed about. The fact is, that Francis 11. was, personally, so omnipotent in Austria, that "right" was what pleased the emperor, i. e. his will ; and " wrong," what displeased him. It is very far, indeed, from true, that the monarch and his prime minister always thought alike ; but the lat ter knew when to yield, and never allowed the emperor to feel than any other will really governed but his own. The Emperor Francis admired the integrity, openness, and consistency of the Prince de Metternich's character ; and would laugh very heartily when told that the English prints sometimes called him a Jesuit. The prince, in his turn, smiled at the eccentricities of his sovereign, and en joyed the old-fashioned green caleche of his royal master, with his simple pair of horses : the emperor dressed in a brown, shabby cabotte, with a corresponding hat; thus riding along like an old retired merchant, nodding, here and there, right and left, most friendly as he passed along. " In spite of all that easy exterior," remarked the Prince de Metternich to an English gentleman, who was walking with him as his majesty passed, " the emperor is not less an emperor ; his will is law in this country, and the peo ple love to have it so." Of his brothers, the emperor was most attached to the Vice-King of Italy; of the Prince Charles he was said to be jealous, Prince John was too learned for him, and the Palatine too impetuous. When the latter requested the emperor's permission to marry for the third time, the emperor replied, " You may take her ; but I shall myself pray for her long life, for I pre sume you would next marry a Jewess."—Fraser's Maga zine. THE CEDAR OF LEBANON.—As compared with other evergreen coniferous trees, it surpasses them all in grand and picturesque effect; and, when arrived at maturity, or approaching those gigantic dimensions which it ac quires in its native habits, may justly be considered as one of the most magnificent of the vegetable creation. In its form and mode of growth, every circumstance is cal culated to give it an imposing and noble aspect ; the trunk being massive, and of a large diameter in proportion to its height, indicates that strength and longevity by which it is characterized in passages of holy writ ; whilst its py riamidical bead, composed of numerous horizontal boughs rising tier above tier in thick succession, and clothed with a mantling foliage of never-fading green, forms a canopy, or as the prophet Ezekial expresses it, " a shadowing shroud" of vast extent and striking appearance. This grandeur and beauty of form naturally associates the ce dar, in our ideas, with objects of importance and scenery of the loftiest description; and hence it is that it becomes a more appropriate ornament and appendage to imposing architectural masses, and grounds of wide extent, than to the precincts of a modern villa, where none of the accom paniments are of a corresponding, magnitude, or in accor dance with those feelings which its presence is calculated to excite. Such, also, seems the feeling of eminent pain ters with regard to this tree, whenever it can be appropri ately introduced into their compositions. Thus in seve ral of the wonderful and highly imaginative pictures of the celebrated Martin, the cedar is prominently brought for ward, particularly in his representation of the destruction of Babylon, where it is made the principal tree in its far-famed terraces and hanging gardens. It is also a prominent object in the gardens of Nineveh, as represent ed in his fall of that city ; and ancient cedars also enter into its imaginary view of the Garden of Eden.—Selby's British Forest Trees. STRAWBERRY HlLL.—What will the public say when they hear of a " Second Strawberry Hill Sale ?" and yet such is the fact; but then it is ushered into publie atten tion with so much modesty and adroitness; there is such a degree of tact connected with the mode of communica tion, that Punch, if he be in a merry vein next week, will probably insinuate that this announcement is indepted to the prolific pen of Lord Brougham, who is now positively accused of being the original of George Robins's "sayings and Doings. " It may be remembered the celebrated Mathews, 20 years ago, in a facetious mood, after dinner, one day created a joke at his expense, to the effect that he had engaged the services of a great literary divine, classically endowed with an income of only one. thousand pounds a year, to compose his own amusing advertisements. Our readers, after they have had their smile, need not be told this is all fudge—a story long since worn out—for we do know that whatever may belong to these literary achieve ments, they can be alone traced to the fertile brain of the " Knight of the Hammer ;" but Punch has just indulged its readers with a new version of a stale joke. The ex chancellor, Lord Brougham, it i s now di scovere d, i s th e culprit, but let us quote him correctly ; and before we do so we must finish our commentary upon Strawberry Hill. This announcement will be found in our columns, and there is a point or two that really deserve great credit, and most especially not less for originality than great ingenu ity ; our friend modestly introduces it thus :—" It is an exceedingly valuable melange of property (meaning the Countess of Mansfield's) on Richmond Hill, so recherche in the several departments in the arts and sciences, that it will not be QUITE SACRILEGE' to designate it a humble revival to Strawberry Hill. Now considering he is treading on such classic ground, he may be accounted clever to have made so neat an excuse for such a compa rison; again, he says, in order to enlist the attention of the scientific world, and those who were ENRAPTURED at Lord Walpole's are to be DELIGHTED at this re nowned receptacle of varied treasures; but we have wan dered from the point, and will conclude by Punch's proof of his perspicacity, by having discovered the "real Simon Pure," whose lucubrations have for twenty years afforded so much satisfaction and delight. Let !is see his quota tion :—" The adjustment of the corn bill has arrived at a great, a triumphant result. It is now conceded to Sir Robert Peel, that in the intricate task , which required all the mind, the perspicacity, and depth of intellect pos sessed by our first minister, in organising his salutary alteration in the corn bill, he has dealt out a measure of strict and impartial justice, no less to the manufacturing than the agricultural interest." Now this style cannot he disguised, it mu :t be from the prolific brain of one late lord on the Woolsack ; and the confirmation is sealed by the recollection of his present praise, compared with so many years of abuse in by-gone days.—Morning Herald. FREE TRADE : OLD AND NEW STATES.—The supe rior weight of wages, rent, and all the elements of cost, in the old, when compared with the young community, affects the manufacturer as well as the farmer ; and in some branches of manufactures it does so with an over whelming effect. But, generally speaking, the advan tages of capital, machinery, and the division of labour, render the old state altogether predominant over the young one in these particulars. It would seem to be a fixed law of nature, that the progress of society adds al most nothing to the application of machinery to agricul ture, but indefinitely to its importance in manufactures. Observe an old man digging his garden with a spade— that is the most productive species of cultivation ; it is the last stage of agricultural progress to return to it. No steam engines or steam ploughs will ever rival it. But what is the old weaver toiling with his hands, to the huge steam-power mill, turning at once ten thousand spindles? As dust in the balance. Man, by a beneficent law of his Maker, is permanently secured in his first and best pur suit. It is in those which demoralize and degrade, that machinery progressively encroaches on the labour of his hands. England can undersell India in muslins and printed goods, manufactured in Lancashire or Lanark shire, out of cotton which grew on the banks of the Ganges; for England, though younger in years compared to India, is old in civilization, wealth, and power. Nye should like to see what profit would be made by exporting wheat from England, raised on land paying thirty . shil lings an acre of rent, by labourers paid at two shillings a-day, to Hindostan, where rice is raised twice a-year, on land paying five shillings an acre rent, by labourers receiving twopence a-day each. It is the constant opera tion of this law of nature which ensures the equalization of empires, the happiness of society, and the dispersion of mankind. To be convinced of this, we have only to reflect on the results which would ensue if this were not the case ; if no unvarying law gave man in remote situa • tions an advantage in raising subsistence over what they enjoy in the centres of opulence; and agriculture, in the aged and wealthy community, was able to acq u i re th e same decisive superiority over distant and comparatively poor ones, which we see daily exemplified in the produc tion of manufactures. Suppose, for exampl e , th at i n co n sequence of the application of the steam-engine, ca pital, and machinery to the raising of subsistence, Great Britain could undersell the cultivators of Poland and the Ukraine as effectually as she does their manufacturers in the production of cotton goods ; that she could sell in the Polish market wheat at five shillings a qua r t er , w h en they require fifteen shillings to remunerate the cost of produc tion. Would not the result be, that co mmerce b etween them would be entirely destroyed ; that subsistence would be exclusively raised in the old and opulent community; that mankind would congregate in fearful multitudes round the great commercial emporium of the world; and that the industry and progress of the more distant nations would be irrevocably blighted? Whereas, by the opera tion of the present law of nature, that the rich state can always undersell the poor one in manufactures, and the poor one always undersell the rich one in subsistence, those d ngers are removed, a check i s prov id e d to t h e undue multiplication of the speci es i n part i cu l ar situa tions, and the dispersion of mankind over th e g l o b e — a vital object in the system of nat ure —i s secure d , from the very necessities and difficulties in which, in the progress of society, the old and wealthy community becomes in. volvetl.—Blackzvood's Magazine. March 19. 1814. THE LATE FATAL DUEL. eof his duel with the unfortunate Lieut.-Colonel Fair;v Lieutenant Munro has addressed a letter on t he Sobjeectet to the Hon. T. S. buncombe, M.P. for Finsbury• extract his account of the origin of the duel. AfterD he ing detailed, at some length, a transaction in w hich, was concerned for Colonel Fawcett, in re,pect to letting a house, he states that the Colonel had said :hate!: (Lieutenant Munro) had been very fortunate in his u. deavours to serve him. The Lieutenant then follows : b bl " He (Colonel Fawcett) requested me to call upon as soon as I could, to explain to him what some sref' t sums were that 1 had paid to his credit. I did so, moo. unfortunately, on the evening of the 26th of I:st Jun I have now to mention that when I accompanied Lieue Colonel Fawcett into the city, he hinted to me that ' l st had some suspicions upon his mind that were of a 111° „, unhappy nature. When I called upon him on the eve",. in , * of the 29th of June, he appeared considerably excitelial There was a person of the name of Romer in the roo! who was sent away as soon as I entered, although upon_ previous occasions he had remained. I think that I Ra g expected; and, from the accounts being at once ente te 4 upon, and from other circumstances, I believe that tae, gross insult that was put upon me afterwards was 10° 4 ditated. The small sums previously alluded to were sc ." t h explained to his satisfaction ; but the £5O that Mrs. Stir W at' was allowed for the loss she had sustained in taking , ; „,.t wick-house with a bad tenant in it, was made the S I V; ( 1 proceeds S. upon which a quarrel was to be effected. I endeavour", repeatedly to make him understand that it was strictly to conformity with his own directions that Mrs. Smith ? it been let off paying £5O, as well as to draw his attent e to the important services I had rendered him in et be matters, and the high price I had obtained for the hou : t a" but he kept constantly reverting to the case of the ~; and insinuated repeatedly that I had neglected his „ i ii""' rest, and had allowed myself to be bamboozled by IT",; Smith. * * * I remained perfectly past l . under all the insinuations for a considerable time. t I tried to get him off the subject of the £5O. but be keP perpetually and violently returning to it, and blaming t i l e as pointedly as he could, for all that was wrong about the delay in the sale of the house. The consciousness of t 2 . 1, most zealous, fortunate, and unwearied exertions in his most zealous, fortunate, and unwearied exertions 10 hf favour made me doubt for a long time if he could res: mean what he said ; at last I observed, ' Well, Far/et this is a very different return from what I expected , "; I have attrnded to your interests as I never did tn. ' a ' own. I have served you as no other man could nel done, and you have frequently insinuated that I neglec t : your affairs or interest when you were absent.' He —; plied loudly, I did not, sir.' I answered, You did , I understood you to do so.' He viol en tly answere d, `,.7„ flat contradiction I will bear from no man.' H e ra ng bell (he was during the whole of the above time, or near", so, walking hurriedly about the room), opened the deS . before the servant could answer to the bell, and call e r out in a rage, Open the door, and keep it open unti l Mr. Munro is turned out of the house.' I was so Co o :f founded by the unexpected and unnecessary violenee,," the act, with the recklessness and in g ratitud e evinced "I it, that I did not know what to do or what to say ; he t i( remained for a few minutes, and then went away, nea r ( distracted with the cruel and gross i nsu lt p u t upon Ine_ A " a person whom I had rendered such ser vic e to ; supposing that I might be spurned for permitting returned and said, that if it bad not been for the CO D ' nexion that existed between us, and the unseemly nat ° ;," of such a proceeding, I would bring him to account for or have resented it upon the spot. He replied that sel the connexion, be wished never to hear of it again, 11 :1 hoped that it would not prevent me from doing whet,' referred to. I then went away. Upon the follol morning I took the (Onion of an officer of acknowledk e judgment, and of upwards of thirty years' standing in army, upon the unfortunate occurrence. He s aid t"'" during the course of his service he had never heard Of 41 gross an outrage, and that, as a British offi cer upon pay, I had no alternative whatever but what was use r ; viz., an apology or a meeting. I then called upon pf Grant, and took him with me to consult with a frienn, e much experience in these unhappy affairs. His opinw e entirely coincided with that of my other friend ; but be said he would take the advice of a general officer about i ,; whose reply was, that no officer holding her Majesti t , commission could possibly exist under such an ins 2 ,2 In the course of the same day I took the opinions of te r l " : other friends (all officers, or having been in the artn:fJ; they all said, that, however lamentable the roceeciL l3 ; was, I was compelled to uphold the honour of the St 3tl :4 I held in the service at the hazard of my life. I VW,' that one word of regret might have been expressed for t h wanton and gross insult put upon me ; but none sc o 9, be given, and a meeting was proposed that day by Lien Col. Fawcett, to which Mr. G ran t objected. Whe.nne found, late in the evening of th e 30th o f June, tbal.,,-b amicable arrangement was likely t o b e come t o , alth°7 I had left the affair entirely in the h an d s o f m y sec° D- r °f o I wrote a note, recommending my wife and children a the care of some friends ; and also a paper (which I sill it in the presence of two witnesses), declaring that I n'" neot , deeply deplored being obliged to go out with Lieut. -Co-„i 4 Fawcett, and that, from circumstances over which I• no control, I was forced to do so. I most earnestly Ciss% sired that some arrangement might be come to the f° 11° „ 0 0 ing morning, and I made three appeals to Mr. Grant i k j, the ground with that view, saying each time, Good tai[ Grant, can nothing be done to stop this d r eadful e ar l from going on ? ' but it appears he was so obstinate'Y ee tt, violently received the day before by Lieut.-Col. F ew tilt d. that he had no hope of coming to a friendly under' ing." a . vent- The following extract will convey some ide' Munro's state of mind : I will not attempt to des cr ib e my own most u-". 5-039 state of mind, since I have been forced to, Ar if°— country, my professio n , and m y b e l ove d w ife, chi father, mother, and relations ; but those who have know_o me from my childho o d, an d my ga ll an t c omrades , c' conceive what I have suffered. I had a happy and a erg tented home; my utmost and constant en deavours w tio directed to perform, to the best of my power, 111 Y du to to my God, to all men, and also as a faithful subject her most gracious Majesty ; and I am now a marked 8171 wretched exile. It has been said that was to enter,. foreign service, and I h ave occas i ona lly i n my solit a l and wretchedness thought o f d o i ng so ; but my heart 813 4 affections are r and ever will remain, with my kindred an d my country;- and I do not think that I need be ashac' e offo Butr owninglhave whata v eh t that sa great iriweaaiii3tepcneonanel consolation alone u l i ot have a w v i in e l a a ct h h e le d cmo assuranceualndy n a o b t i ptttire,earyte teetonoi r; merciful and all-seeing Mhker will hold me gu iltless m the abominabl e an d h orr ibl e cr i me that erring men, li" myself, lay to my charge." VOLUNTARY STARVATION.—SOMC time ago ' Mt...TO; i Osborne, or Newark-upon-Trent, Nottinghamshirer ‘ l ,l robbed of a cons id era bl e sum of money by a boy na ° ,: e , Thomas Charles, in whom he had placed great confideno This circumstance preyed so deeply upon his mind 0 o f produce an aberration of intellect, and on the 15t 4 .4 February l as t h e a tte m pted t o comm it suicide by cut t ,;s his throat.. He was, however, prevented from do - ing tR i b P and since that period has never been suff er ed to W ife himself ;. but from that time he stedfastly refused to the slightest nourishment, and even treated with violeop any person who offered him food. On the 29th tilt• died from exhaustion. SUICITiE FROM DEPRESSION OF SPIRITS.—OnI~a fI IIB, week an inquest wns held at the Friend s hip I n n, Barre d , near Appleby, on the body of James Harrison, h u sbl e a man, of that place, aged 73, who was found suSP f o r from the branch of an ash tree in his own field. H e rt some months pa s t h a d com pl a i ne d o f p a i n a b ou t his he a l ,/ particularly at nights, when he was in bed, attended sickness which produced pain in the head and for vb„ l l ., his wife was obli ge d t o t i e up hi s h ea d w i t h a h a ndn o chief. He had not any work for many weeks ; but. 01 41 this time, bad no occas i on to comp l a i n o f want , but 1 0 . always decently to p u t on w ith, w h en out o f wor k he 141 ed and fretted a good d ea l. Wi t hi n t h e l ast mon th he 'be stated that his spirits were down, and he would never ht able to work again. On Monday he got up between eig and nine o'clock, to o k a rop y an d sa id he wou ld fen, some bay from the stack, w hi c h i s i n t h e : f i el d l a bou'o quarter of a mile distant. After he had been absent ab 1 1; two hours she thought he stay e d l ong , an d went t o inbc. for him ; when she got to the field she found him susPe ed from an ash tree near the bay stack. GATHERINGS EXTRAORDINARY.—A venerable P d l e f i man and wife, and both highly respectable people , Z a s s lately in Galloway, within a day of one another. " at ie effects, if brought to sale, would furnish matter for of the most curious catalogues that was perhaps ever ;`, l ic, mitted by an auctioneer to the attention of the pal 00 6 Deposits of silver coin secreted in places where n ri e s; would have ever dreamed of looking for suet' m ad in one parcel, carefully wrapped in a piece ofnaed the corner of a lumber drawer ; others in paper alli into an old basket, or hid in outhouses, or some eg li h ped unpromising corner. These coins appear to have c u ,... 0 0 shut out from the light of day for a number of ye ars, .4, the different values they represent, such as Is. 6d•tis'liot 2s. 6d., and 55.; and had become, i n conse quenee,lh-er6 only tarnished, but nearly as black as soot itself e ry - were also gold coins, foreign as we ll as B r i t i s h, o, n ,f / e pt small values up to £5, with a gre a t var i e ty of ditl er to articles, the fancy of the party appeari ng to have be` , fol' have a something of everything. Of these, let the d r i. lowing specimens suffice :—Eight richly-ornament e da d ding whips ; 18 unbroken pieces of linen ; 30 pair eid°oilX sheets ; 20 dozen of towels ; about 250 rich-coloure tot, handkerchiefs ; three dozen thimbles of divers n e t s 30 pairs of scissors, and one gold pair ditto; 10 0 P7;0 0 silk stockings; 30 gowns, made and unmade; 16 t t ' b briS• bonnets; a lot of shoemakers' waxed threads, f ba t : ties attached ; coffin lacing ; and a great number t hei° ties of wines and spirits, of all qualities. Part 0. 0 li r were found in an old tea-chest, supposed to eun t3i rofe r thing but rubbish; but when the assistant to a I ' s , O i l sional gentleman, engaged in inventoring the effec .. ,,htee, directed to throw it out, he drew from their hiding to r r at seventeen bottles of wines and spirits, some of the; o thei o Champagne. But there was an endless array C... c too nick-nacks, an enumeration of which would oleuLper_., much space, if not exhaust the patience of the .., g eOP„ reader. The husband, in this case, was a great v c allev r i fancier for many years, and possessed a very larg.ecionf.o tion of these birds, which he regularly fed aa° t P o with his own hands, and which included neartY bo - pgk o varying breeds known in the world; and, 31 , 1 et hi f , lengthened period has intervened, we still reeo pointing out a curious fact in natural historV „I A fc' t that every time the turtle-dove coos, it lifts its r;, 6 ,, oce` a; And that such is literally the fact, was proved i s 'orit' e s demonstration. He bad also a number of fine t od oit o but all his feathered favourities have been disr?!. i _,„witPJl his death among friends and acquaintances restdVlt snit the locality which knew him so long and we ll, cee cliog o . know him no more. Many of the doves wer e el f foc, beautiful, and even valuable to persons desiro us ing a collection on an extended scale,--1111Pifrl" I I