The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-01-16 00:00:00

il Wt . a t ttr r CARDINAL DE RETZ, U B. THE COURTIER'S PLOT. BY PETER POPJOY, Esq. (For the Liverpool Standard.) CHAPTER X. (continued-) The unexpected appearance of Elizabeth de Montglat appeared to strike the Baron dumb with surprise ; soon, however, recovering himself, he saluted the fair visitor with an air of assumed politeness ; Elizabeth hastened to unmask. Her face was pale, and she appeared much agi tated. She advanced rapidly towards Fabien, who with downcast locks stood silently in her presence, without ex hibiting those transports of joy that might have been ex pected from one who professed so much attachment to an object from which he had been so long separated. The Countess, With all a woman's wit and sagacity, guessed at once the reason. " Fabien," said she, taking him tenderly by the hand, " I have arrived too late. Is it not so? He has told you" " All," replied Fahien, turning away his eyes. " And do you accuse me—do you reproach me as the cause of your ruin ? Fabien do not condemn me un heard." " Have I yet uttered one word of reproach, lady ?" said Fabien : "my life, I have vowed to devote to you, and do with it as you will." The Countess cast a furtive look upon the Baron, who trod up and down the chamber, with unequal steps. The Countess spoke a few words to Fabien in a low voice. At this moment the Baron approached, with a signifi cant gesture. His thin fare wore an expression of mali cious pleasure, somewhat blended with surprise. " Well. Mademoiselle," said he, in a tone of lightness, and forced gaiety, which was then the fashion in certain circles at court, " is it the custom of the Queen's maids of honour to seek young gentlemen in open daylight? Faith, this will be a pleasant romance to divert the idlers of the Palais-Royal. Are you aware that you have now placed yourself in my power ?" " I know you to be ton prudent a statesman, Baron de Croissi, to tak • notice of such a trifling matter, especially when I tell you that I have come here at the express order of my royal mistress. "By the Queen's order ?" asked Albert ? " What does thi s mean ? some new ca price, without doubt? What fools men are who place their devotednes—their lives, at the service of a woman! The wisest and most resolute want courage when the) are called upon to act." " Stop, sir," interrupted the maiden, with an air of au thority; " here, as every where, the wishes of your sove reig❑ ought to be sacred to you. Unhappily," continued she, in a different tone, " I know it is now too late to exe cute those I bring you." " What would you say ?" " The Queen, from the representation I have made to her, that Fabien feels great repugnance to undertake the contemplated enterprise, has commanded you to reveal no thing to him, and to choose some other person to execute the project in view." — Fitbie'n made a slim of surprise. Before he could speak, the Baron quietly remarked— "ls that all ? Well, my charming Countess. You can assure her Majesty, and assure yourself also, that Fabien, although he has expressed some scruples on the subject, but which I easily overcame, has accepted the proposition I was authorised to make to him." " Accepted it? accepted it? said Elizabeth, in a tone of surprise. " He will tell you so himself," coldly observed the Baron. " Then you have not told him the truth," exclaimed Elizabeth, with indignant enerzv ; " you have deceived him by some skilfully concocted lie. I know you—l know you well, De Croissi. I know your ability to clothe under the most smiling appearances the most guilty actions ! " Speak for yourself, Fabien" said the Baron. " I know that I haw; undertaken to shed perhaps the purest blood in France—that I have, like a traitor, un dertaken to strike in the dark, the hero who has saved the state in twenty glorious battles, and acquired immor tality. But I know also that Elizabeth de Montglat was the first to engage me in the enterprize. and it is upon the faith of her name that I shall complete my contract." " Oh ! Fabien—Fabien ; can you believe"— " What is that you say, Mademoiselle?" cried the Ba ron, fixing his piercing eyes upon her ; " do you so soon forget the engagements that you made in my presence, and are you now about to disavow both actions and words ?" The maiden drooped her head with an_ air of sadness. _ lieny it not," Continued Albert, " that you consented that. I should bring Fabien to Paris; did you not write a letter to him which decided him at once to undertake the journey ?" " I do not deny it." " Is it not true that you have promised your hand to nay brother as a reward for the service which he is about to render to the state ? " Have pity"— " Reply—reply—to my question," said the Baron, in a threatening "It is true." The maiden wept. " You hear, Fabien—you now must see that I have not deceived you. One of the conditions of your service has been completed : the other will quickly follow." Fabien remained dumb, while Elizabeth sobbed pi teously. The Baron regarded both with an air of triumph. Fabien, believing the Countess de Montglat consented to the deed, still kept coldly aloof. "We must separate. This evening, Fabien, I shall come to conduct you into the presence of those with whom you must become acquainted before you undertake the matter in hand. Until then, do not attempt to depart hence ; you cannot quit this house without danger to your self—mark that. As for me, Igo to announce the result of my negociation. I shall be proud, lady," continued be, with an assumption of gallantry, turning to Elizabeth, " to band you to your coach." " If this is an order you give me, I refuse to submit to it ; if it is an invitation such as a gentleman ought to give, I decline it, for I will admit that I wish to exchange a few words with M. Fabien de Croissi." " Oh, yes," exclaimed Fabien ; her." " I must speak with " This, then, is nothing but an assignation," said the Baron, with a sardonic smile. " I merely suggested, lady, that I should hand you to your carriage, as such would be only in conformity with custom." " There are circumstances more imperious than cus toms," interrupted Elizabeth, proudly. " I will not go." " Well, I leave you," replied Albert. " Bill and coo as you will, my gentle young lovers; but take heed that you do not forget those promises mutually made, and, above all, be silent. This advice i s that of a friend. Adieu." So saying, he departed leisurely from the cham ber, regarding the Countess with a significant smile. Hardly had he left the room, when Mlle, de Montglat, giving vent to her long -pent-up feelings, quickly ap proached Fabien, and said, in a tone of despair, " Fabien, dear Fabien, this cannot be—oh, it cannot be true that you have undertaken to do this horrible deed of blood. Do not delay one instant to assure me that you have not consented. Oh, no; you are too noble, too loyal, too generous, to take a part in this atrocious plot." " Tell me, then, Elizabeth, in your turn," said Fabien, springing towards her,—" tell me that you do not approve of it, that the avowal you made before the Baron was extorted from you by violence, and that you have never desired me to become an assassin ?" " Never, Fabien, never! They have employed artifice, - violence, and falsehood. You will know some day, Fa bien, what I have suffered. It is only just now that I have learnt the truth. If I had known it sooner, at the price of your hate and contempt, at the price of forget fulness of all the sweet recollections of other days, I would never haveleonsented to allow my name to have been used for the . sake of entrapping you to engage in this sad affair." " Elizabeth, in heaven's name what fearful secret is this, which thus compels your lips to give the lie to your heart's desires ?" " I cannot tell you," replied the young Countess sadly. " In pity's sake, do not ask me now." " Take pity rather on me. Does this secret contain aught that would make you blush before me ? Have you forgotten those engagements pledged with such fondness amidst the shades of Moutglat ? " " No, no, Fabien. If, by thoughtlessness and igno rance, I have committed a fault, it is one of that nature that you may look on with indulgence. It has but raised up against me the most powerful enemies, but I have been true to you. Oh ! how I have been entrapped But I implore you to leave this painful subject. Tell me,! without loss of time, that you reject with horror this in famous proposition of assassination ?" " My dear Elizabeth, could you have thought me ca pable of an action so black ? Have you not reflected that cruel necessity has also compelled me to disguise my real sentiments ? " " But what is this necessity ? What are the motives that could oblige you to accept this proposition, without a moment's reflection or delay ? " " Reflection was not permitted me, and my determina tion has not been changed ; and that is, to seem to under take this commission. I have wished all along to gain time, and put my brother's prudence to sleep." " But the promise you have made him he will callupon you to keep ? ' " I have attached to the execution of that promise two conditions that I believe it impossible for him to comply with." " One is"— " That you shall personally confirm the part you intend to take in this enterprise." Alas! you have seen that I am not in a position to dis claim my opposition to it openly—and the other? " Is that I receive from the lips of the Queen Regent her self the order to strike the first Prince of the Blood—this, or I much mistake me, the Baron notwithstanding his assurance cannot fulfil. " And is it upon the faith of this impossibility that you have undertaken so solemn an engagement ? " cried the maiden in dispair. " Unhappy Fabien—retract that pro mise you have made or you are lost." " Do you then believe that the Regent" " The Regent is too much excited by hate —too much bewildered by had councils, and her temper is too much Soured by the knowledge of her own weakness and the strength of her enemy to stop at any thing; that which would seem in ordinary times, impossible—perfectly m on _ atrous—appears only a natural action at a season of trou ble. The Queen has received certain information that M. le Prince wishes to obtain possession of the King, that he has sent emissaries to Flanders to negotiate with the Spaniards, who, he thinks will help him to the regency and treat her, as of late the Cardinal did Marie de Medi cis : in fact she is come to this point, that she must ob tain the death of ber enemy by some great sacrifice, she she does not want counsellers about her to fan up the flame that devours her, and yourbrother is not one whose advice is4east attended to ; indeed, M. de Mazarin, who from the frontier directs the sentiments of the Court— approves of this plot of a tragedy, in which you are to play so serious a part ; judge now if the Queen will hang back from this form which you require her to go through ? What does it \ matter to her after the verbal order which she has given you, if you should have to appear before a tri bunal, and you should let the truth escape ?—they will not believe you! Think then what your position now is and what it will be should you be brought before the solemn as semblage of parliament and accuse the Queen and her courtly minions of having urged you on to commit this crime ! Out of respect for the royal authority your voice will be stopped at the first word, all those that you denounce will disavow any connection with you, —your brother will be among the first—and were I even to speak to the truth what could I do, weak and friendless as we are, against an authority which has but a superior above? Do you not recollect besides, that every precaution has been taken to render any indiscretion on your part unnecessary even before you are brought up to judgment. What is to pre vent you becoming an inmate of the deep cells of Chate let, when it would be of so much importance to stop your voice? The Quee n k nows a ll th i s too we ll F abien ; be sure she will not ref use to see you, nor t o g i v e you the pittiless command ; are you ignorant of what a proud and passion ate woman is capable of,—who is not only a mother but a sovereign also. Fabien remained silent a few minutes.- - Elizabeth, said he at length, you have told me that the Queen is mislead by bad councillors, and that alone suffi ces to induce me to persist in my project. I will see her, I will make her hear the truth, and perhaps God will give my feeble voice the gift to touch her heart and make her see how such an act as is contemplated, is unworthy the majesty of the throne. Sometimes a free and frank word suffices to calm the most violent and obstinate tempers. Do not attempt to persuade me to abandon my project, from that moment, I will make a sacrifice of my life—l will fulfil that which I consider to be a duty, let what will become of me—you, Elizabeth, at least, if I fall shall not have occasion to despise me. " Oh, adandon thi s f a t a l reso lution Fabien," said the Countess, in a voice intense with emotion—" it is foolish and fraught with danger—listen," added she, quickly, " there is yet time t o fl y — see k i n Paris some obscure re treat and remain in that obscurity till the storm has passed away." " Fly," said Fabien with dejection—" do you forget the most rigourous precautions have been taken to prevent my escape ?" Madlle. de Montglat sprung towards the window and cast over the court yard a rapid glance. The followers of the Baron still paced to and fro, in front of the house. "They are still there."—murmu'red she, with despair— " What is to be done ?" I—l am free, added she struck with an idea that flashed across ber brain, " my coach is two steps from this, and if we could but gain it" " They would allow you to pass, but they would restrain me by force." _ _ " But these people do not know you, and if you could disguise yourself somewnat like the Baron they might not perhaps recognise you, it would not take up a moment to gain the coach and we should soon be beyond the reach of search. Come Fabien—let us try —our assurance will perhaps impose upon them, and perhaps they dare not come to extremities. If they attack us you can defend yourself with your good sword—if we have no means of escaping —we will die together. " Elizabeth, I cannot suffer you " " But I can—l can"— Fabien was about to yield to her entreaties and attempt an enterprise which could only succeed by great audacity, when a loud noise in the house arrested the footsteps of both. It approached the chamber, and in the next mo ment the Baron de Croissi, with heightened colour, and vestments in disorder entered precipitately into the cham ber : through the half-opened door the lovers could per ceive several persons of brutal aspect waiting without, who had followed the Baron to execute his commands. The maiden at once concluded that some fearful scene was about to take place, and with a piercing cry thew her self before Fabien, as if to defend him. Fabien instantly drew his sword, and stood on his defence, gently putting the enthusiastic girl aside ; Albert, without noticing these signs of defiance, strode rapidly towards his brother— " Sir," said he in a low voice--" you must instantly quit this house and follow me. A coach awaits us, and I trust that your good sense will suggest to you the inutilty of resorting to violence." " Whither would you conduct us, sir," said Elizabeth, in terror. "That I will tell you presently," said the Baron, dryly. " And what would you with us, sir," asked Fabien, if we refuse to accept your invitation. Oh ! Albert, have you not cruelly abused the authority that you assume over me ?" " Do not oblige me to resort to extremities that are in consistent with my feelings : follow me—listen," con tinued he, drawing Fabien aside, " these fellows will exe cute, without the least compunction, whatever orders I give them,—l have provided in every way to meet you ; I have given out that you are subject to madness—your conduct has not belied the assertion, and all that you do or say will be attributed to the malady you are supposed to labour under." " Oh 1 what villany," cried Elizabeth. Fabien grew pale with anger, he ground his teeth with rage, and with the feeling of a tiger he hurled his bro ther aside and was about bearing off Elizabeth, when the Baron's followers impeded his progress at the door, and in the next moment Fabien found himself un armed within their grasp. Albert de Crossi recovering himself and adjusting his dress,—in spite of his anger—smiled in derision. Taking Elizabeth by the hand, who nJw would have clung to Fabian for protection, said with an attempt at gallantry, " Permit me mademoiselle to hand you to your carriage." Elizabeth relinquished her grasp of Fabien, and was borne fainting to her carri In another moment, the two vehicles were hurried off in different directions. (To be continued.) NOTICES. Birkenhead and its Dock. By Samuel Stansfield. In the pamphlet before us Mr. Stansfield has undoubt edly introduced much very valuable and ably compiled statistical matter, and thus far it is highly creditable to his industry. But we must record our conviction—and we say it with all candour, notwithstanding the little fracas which we had recently with the author, or rather the compiler, for the bulk of the work consists of compi lation, and no trifling portion of it from our own columns —that the public would have been disposed to place much more confidence in the accuracy of his statements and views, had the pamphleteer betrayed a little less anxiety to write up the superhuman wisdom of the commissioners of Birkenhead, and the supremacy of that locality over all the other portions of this favoured land. We are quite ready to admit the existence of great spirit amongst the population of Birkenhead, in the carrying on of their improvements. They are laying, no doubt, the founda tion of a populous and flourishing town. But they shculd not enact the part of chanticleer over the denizens of this side of the river quite so boisterously. The town of Liverpool, it is true, did not spring quite so phenix-like into greatness as Birkenhead is doing; but the former had not the advantage of vast capital, as Birkenhead has —and that Liverpool capital too—to aid her in her early struggles into being. Besides, Mr. Stansfield might recollect, that 'people, quite as enterprising as the people of Birkenhead, and as wise too, have met with most disastrous checks; and that it is quite possible that the sanguine tone and the bright colouring in which he has represented matters in the work before us may lead not a few of his readers into speculations, for the result of which they will have small cause to thank him. The illustrations of the pamphlet, we may remark, are very good,—one of them the very plan of the proposed docks at Wallasey, as designed by the late William Laird, which Mr. Stansfield was so angry at our presenting to our readers. The London Polytechnic Magazine. We have received the first number of this work, which promises to become highly useful, if conducted with its pristine spirit and ability, in the promotion of Science, Literature and the Fine Arts. it is stated, in the intro duction, to be established "for the purpose of communi cating, in as popular form as may be consistent with scientific accuracy, those inventions, improvements, and discoveries which are constantly being made in every de partment of science." It will also embrace " mineralogy and geology—botany and zoology,—the comprehensive living world," and " will also devote itself to the higher branches of literature." The present number contains a number of highly-talented articles, including one by our townsman,lDr. Sutherland, on " The Infiltration Theory of Glacier Motion," and a review of the paper, by Dr. Duncan, also of this town, " On the High Rate of Mor tality in Liverpool." The article on "The Ventilation of Mines to prevent Adeidents, by Dr. A. Jamieson, is also well worthy of perusal by thos , interested in subterranean operations. An anonymous paper on "The causes of the Daguerreotype Image," gives the result of some experi ments in the extraordinary art. There is also an account, at the close, of all the Metropolitan literary and scientific societies ; their objects, and meetings for the present session. A few short extracts from the work will be found in another column. SELECTIONS. FOREIGN POLICY OF GOVERNMENT. (From Blackwood's Magazine.) May not the present ministers look with just pride to wards every quarter of the globe, and exclaim, Quae regio in Terris nostri non plena laboris ? In truth their success here has been sufficient to set up half a dozen ministers— as is known to no man better than Lord Palmerston. The Duke of Wellington and Lord Aberdeen have restored peace to the whole world, re-establishing it on a footing of dignified security and equality. By the persevering energy, the calm determination, and inexhaustible re sources of Lord Aberdeen, " the winter of our discon tent," has been " made glorious summer," with all the great powers of the world. Look at our glorious but ir ritable neighbour—France : is there any language too strong to express the delight which we feel at the reno vated sympathy and affection which exist between us? We cannot answer for France to the extent which we can for England ; but we know, that through the length and breadth of this land—our beloved Queen's familiar visit to the King of the French, their affectionate greeting, and her Majesty's enthusiastic reception by the people, dif fused a feeling of joy and affection towards France, which will not soon—nay, should it ever ?—subside. But would that visit have taken place, if Lord Palmerston, and not Lord Aberd een , b a d pres id e d over t h e f ore i gn co uncils of this country ? 'Ti s a di sagreea bl e quest i on , an d w e pass on. Then as to America, thanks to the mission of Lord Asliburtbn, peace has been secured between us, on terms equally honourable to both. We are now at peace with the United States—a peace not to be disturbed by the (to whiggish eyes) promising (!!) aspect of the Oregon difficulties—which we tell our aforesaid friends will end in —nothing at all.—[lt is not, by the way, Me fault of our government, that this disputed matter was not embraced by the Washington Treaty.]—While Lord Palmerston and his doleful ally, the Morning Chronicle, were daily stigmatizing the treaty of Washington, as highly disho nourable and disadvantageou s t o thi s coun t r y, it may in terest our readers to see what one o f t h e di sa ffected Ans?- rican senators had to say on th e su bj ec t. Thus spoke, in the senate, Mr. Benton, a well k nown member of con gress : "The concessions of Great Britain to the United States are small. The territory granted to the United States, is of such a nature, that it will never be of im portance to hold it ; while the possessions given up by the United States are important and valuable to them, and have the effect of admitting a foreign power within a ter ritory which was granted to the United States, by the treaty of 1783. * * When I see the Government giv ing up more than Great Britain demfinded, 1 cannot con ceal my amazement and mortification !" _ --.--. Glancing, however, from the West to the East—what do we see? Wars in India and China, brought gloriously to an advantage o us termination.—" Wars," to adopt the language of one of the greatest mercantile authorities living, " which have been deranging our money transac tions, and making our trade a trade of hazard and specu lation, most injurious to the commerce of the empire at large." While, on the one hand, we are relieved from the ruinous drain upon our resources, occasioned by our pro tracted warlike ope'rations in India and China, on the other, a prospect is opened to us, by the immensely im portant treaty which the Emperor of China has entered with this country, of very great and permanent commer cial advantages, which are already being realized. Let our manufacturers, however, beware of the danger of forfeiting these advantages, by excessive eagerness to avail themselves of these newly acquired markets. Twelve months ago, we earnestly warned them on this score, and we now as earnestly repeat that warning ; "notwith standing," observed an old French journalist, a few weeks ago, upon this subject, "the opening of five ports to Eu ropean commerce, China will for many years preserve her internal laws, her eccentric tastes, her inveterate habits. China is the country of routine and immovability. The treaty with Great Britain cannot modify the nature of China in a few months. If the English are not prudent in their exports, if they overload the newly• opened ports with foreign produce, they will injure themselves more than they were injured by the war just concluded." In every word of this we concur : but alas ! what weight will such considerations have with the agitating manufacturers in the north of England ? Their fierce but short-sighted anxiety to make rapid fortunes, will make most of them, in a few years, melancholy evidence of the justness of our observations! We cannot pass from the East without noticing the sound statemanship which is regulating all Lord Ellenborough's leading movements in India—a mat ter now universally admitted. How unspeakably con temptible and ridiculous has the lapse of a few months rendered the petty clamours against him, with which the ex-ministerial party commenced their last year's cam ' paign ! Without, however, travelling round the entire circle of our foreign connexions and operations—there are one or two points to which we will briefly refer, as strik ing instances of the vigilant and indefatigable energy, and the powerful diplomatic influence of Lord Aberdeen, es pecially with reference to the securing commercial advan tages to this counts y—and which has extorted the follow , ing testimony, during the present month (December,) from another French Journal, by no means favourably disposed to this country :—" The English Government is incontestably the best served of all Governments in the means of obtaining new, and extending old markets, and in the rapid and complete knowledge of the course to be adopted to ensure the sale of the immense products of Great Britain in different parts of the globe." Take for instance the case of Russia. We have actually succeeded in wringing from the tenacious and inflexible Cabinet of St. Petersburg an important commercial advantage ! On Lord Aberdeen's accession to office, he found Russia in the act of aiming a fatal blow at a very important branch of our shipping trade, by levying a differential duty on all British vessels conveying to Russian ports any goods which were not the produce of the British dominions. After, however, a very skilful and very arduous nagocia lion, our foreign secretary has succeeded in averting that blow—and we retain the great advantages of which we were about to be deprived. Nor has this signal ad vantage been purchased by any sacrifise on the nart of Great Britain, but only by a permission, founded on most equitable principles, for Russian vessels arriving here from Russian ports with the produce of Russian Poland, to possess the same privileges as if they had come direct from Russian ports : Russian Poland being able to communi cate effectually with the sea, only through the Prussian territory. Look again at Brazil—which has also been recently the object of persevering and energetic negotia on the part of Lord Aberdeen. It is true that, at present, his exertions have been attended with no direct success; but we have doubts whether the importance of the pro posed Brazilian treaty has not, after all, been greatly exaggerated. However this may be, Lord Aberdeen is, at this moment, as strenuously at work with the young• emperor, as could be desired by the most eager advocate of a commercial treaty with Brazil. But, suppose the emperor's advisers should be disposed to continue their obstinate and unreasonable opposition, observe the gentle pressure upon them, to be felt by and by, which Lord Aberdeen has contrived to effect by the commercial treaty which he has concluded with the contigious republic of Monte Video, and other States on the right bank of the Plata, for the admission (on most favourable terms) of British imports into these States. One of them is the Uruguay republic, which borders through a great extent of country on Brazil, the Government of which is utterly unable to prevent the transfer of merchandise across the border ; whereby the exclusion of British gobds from the Brazilian territory is rendered a matter of phy sical impossibility. It is true, that our efforts to enter into commercial treaties with France and Portugal have not, as yet, been successful ; but, formidable as are the obstacles at present in existence, we do not despair. Those least wonder at the present position of affairs who are best acquainted with the artificial and complicated positions of the respec tive countries, and their relations, and consequent policy, towards each other. Whatever can be done by man, is at this moment being done by Lord Aberdeen ; and sooner than we have at present a right to expect, his in defatigable exertions may be crowned with success—not only in these, but in other quarters. All foreign Govern ments must be strongly influenced in such matters, by contemplating a steady and strong Government established in this country ; and that object they may see more nearly and distinctly every day. Such (without, entering into details which would be inconsistent with either our space or our present object) is the general result—namely, the rapidly returning tide of prosperous commercial inter course of the foreign policy of a Conservative Govern ment, which has raised Great Britain, within the short space of two years, to even a higher elevation among the nations of the world, than she had occupied before a " Liberal Ministry undertook the government of the country"—" a policy," to adopt the equally strong and just language of an able writer, " replete with auspicious evidences of the efficacy of intellect, combined with firm ness, activity, and integrity, in restoring to wholesome and honourable order a chaotic jumble of anomalies—of hu miliations and dangers—of fears, hatred, and confusion • thrice trebly confounded." THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. A DOSE. (From Hood's Comic illanazine.) " Ellen, you have been out." " Well, I know I have." '• To the King's Head." " No, John, no. But no matter. You'll be troubled no more with my drinking." " What do you mean ?" " I mean what I say, John," replied the wife, looking very serious, and speaking very solemnly and deliberately, with a strong emphasis on every word. " You—will—be —troubled—no—more—with—my—drinking—l H AVE TOOK IT AT LAST." " I knew it !" exclaimed the wretched husband, despe rately tossing his arms aloft, as when all is lost. " I knew it !"—and, leaving one coat flap in the hands of his wife, who vainly attempted to detain him, he rushed from the room—sprang down the stairs, both flights, by two and three stairs at a time—ran along the passage, and without his hat or gloves, or stick, dashed out at the street door, sweeping from the step two ragged little girls, a quartern loaf, a bason of treacle, and a baby. But be never stopped to ask if the children were hurt, or even to see whether the infant dripped with gore or molasses. Away he ran, like a rabid dog, straight forward, down the Borough, heedless alike of a porter's load, baker's basket, and butcher's tray. " I say," muttered the errand boy as he staggered from the collision. " Do that.agin," growled the placard man, as he reco vered the pole and board which had been knocked from his shoulder. " Mind where you're goin' " bawled a hawker, as he picked up his scattered wares •, whilst a dandy, suddenly thrust into the kennel, launched after the runner one of those verbal missiles which are said to return, like the boomerang, to those who launch them. But on, on, on scampered the Teetotaller, heedless of all impediments—on be scoured, like a he Camilla, to the shop, number 240, with the red, blue, and green bottles in the window—the chemist and druggist's, into which he darted, and up to the little bald man at the desk, with barely breath enough left to gasp out "My wife !" " Poison !" and " Pump!" " Vegetable or mineral ?" inquired the Surgeon-Apo thecary, with professional coolness. Both—all sorts—laudnum — assnick—oxalic acid—cor rosive sublimity"—and the Teatotaller was about to add pine -apple rum, amongst the poisons, when the Doctor stopped him. " Is she sick ?" _ _ _ . " No." But remembering the symptoms overnight, the Teatotaller ventured to say, on the strength of his dream, that she was turning all manner of colours, like a rainbow, and swelling as big as a house. el" Then there is not a moment to lose," said the Escu lapius, and accordingly clapping on his hat, and arming himself with the necessary apparatus—a sort of elephan tine syringe with a very long trunk—be set off a trot, guided by the Teatotaller, to unpoison the rash and ill fated bacchanalian, Mrs. Burrage. " And did he save ber ?" " My dear madam, be content to let that issue remain a little, and accumulate interest, like a sum in the Saving Bank. Now, when the Teatotaller, with the medical man at his heels, arrived at his own house, Mrs. Burrage was still in her bed-room ; which was a great convenience, for before she could account for the intrusion of the stranger, nay even without exactly knowing how it was done, she suddenly found herself seated—more zealously than ten derly or ceremoniously—in the easy chair; and when she attempted to expostulate, she felt herself choking' with a tube of something, which was certainly neither maccaroni, nor stick-licorice, nor yet pipe-peppermint. To account for this precipitancy, the exaggerated repre sentations of her husband must be borne in mind ; and if his wife did not exhibit all the dying dolphin-like colours that he had described,—if she was not yet quite so blue, green, yellow, or black, as he had painted her, the apothe cary made sure that she soon would be, and consequently went to work without delay, where delays were so dan gerous. Mrs. Burrage, however, was not a woman to submit quietly to a disagreeable operation, against her own con sent ; so with a vigourous kick and a push, at the same time, she contrived to rid herself at once of the doctor and his instrument, and indignantly demanded to know the meaning of the assault upon her. " It's to save your life—your precious life, Ellen," said the Teatotaller, very solemnly. " It's to empty the stomach ma'am," said the doctor. " Empty a fiddle," retorted Mrs. 8., who would have added " stick," but the doctor, watching his opportunity, had dexterously popped the tube again into her open mouth : not without a fresh scuffle from the patient. " For the Lord's sake, Ellen," entreated the Teatotal ler, confining her hand, " do, do, pray do sit quiet." _ . . " Pob—wiib—wobble," said Ellen. " H üb—bub—bub —bubble," attempting to speak with another pipe in her throat besides the windpipe. " Have the goodness, ma'am, to be composed," im plored the doctor. " I won't," shouted Mrs. Burrage, having again relea sed herself from the instrument by a desperate struggle. " What am Ito be pumped out for ?" " Oh, Ellen, Ellen," said the Teatotaller, " you know what you have taken." ." Corrosive salts and narcotics," put in the doctor. " Assnic and corrosive sublimity,' said the Teatotaller. " Oxalicacid and tincture of opium," added the doctor. " Fly water and laurel water," said Mr. Burrage. "Vitriol, prussic acid, and aqua fortis," continued the druggist. _ _ _ ...Tye took no such thing," said the refractory patient. "Oh Ellen, you know what you said." " Well, what." " Why, that your drinking should never trouble me any more." "And no more it shall!" screamed the wilful woman, falling, as she spoke, into convulsive paroxysms of the wildest laughter. "No mare it shall, for I've took—" " What ma'am, pray what ?" "In the name of Heaven ! What ? " "Why then—l've took the PLEDGE ! " How TO WRITE CLEARLY AND FORCIBLY.—A man fully possessed of his subject, and confident of his cause, may almost always write with vigour and effect, if he can get over the temptation of writing finely, and really confine himself to the strong and clear exposition of the matter he has to bring forward. Half of the affectation and offensive pretension we meet with in authors is tram a want of matter, and the other half from a paltry ambition of being eloquent and ingenious out of place.—Lord Jeffrey. THE QUEEK AND HER PlANO.—There iS a funny story of the quite youthful Victoria that, when first invited to take lessons on the pianoforte, she objected strongly to the monotonous hours spent in finger ing," and at the gamut. She was informed that all future success in that delightful art depended upon being perfect mistress of her pianno.—" Oh, I am to be mistress of my piano, am I?" asked the ingenuous girl. To which inquiry it was replied, " Undoubtedly." Then what would you think of me if I became mistress at once?" continued the princess." " That would be impossible. There is no royal road to music. Experience and great practice are essential." " Oh, there is no royal road to -music—eh ? No royal road. And lam not mistress of my pianoforte? But I will be, I assure you, and the royal road is this "—at the same moment closing the pianoforte, locking it, and taking the key. " There' that's being mistress of the piano! and the royal road to learn is never to take a lesson till you're in the humour to do it."—Fraser's Magazine. LIBERAL PRINCIPLES OF THE DUKE OF KENT.—I re member on one occasion, at a public banquet, at which the Dukes of Kent and Sussex were present, the former returned thanks on the part of the royal family for the ho nour which had been conferred by the health of the junior members having been drunk ; and the noble duke then hastily glanced at his own position. " I am a friend of civil and religious liberty, all the world over," said his royal highness. "lam an enemy to all religious tests. I am a supporter of a general system of education. All men are my brethren • and I hold that power is only delegated for the benefit of people. These are the principles of myself and of my beloved brother the Duke of Sussex. They are not popular principles just now ; that is, they do not conduct to place or office. All the members of the royal family do not hold the same principles. For this I do not blame them ; but we claim for ourselves the right of thinking and acting as we think best ; and we proclaim ourselves, with our friend Mr. Tierney, ' members of his majesty's loyal opposition.' "—Fraser's Magazine. A FRUGAL SOVEREIGN. — It is unnecessary for me to observe, that in his personal expenditure, as well as in that of his family and court, there is not a more frugal sovereign in Europe than Louis of Bavaria. He is frugal, not with a view to hoard up money in foreign funds, as other crowned heads are known to do, but to accumulate in every form, in his capital, and even in the most remote districts of his kingdom, specimens of the fine arts, exe cuted in the highest style of perfection. His pure clas sical taste, inspired by a warm and brilliant imagination, forbids him to attempt any work undeserving the approval of the most severe critic, and the applause of future ages. His habits at Bruckenau are, as I was informed by some of those best acquainted with them, of the most simple kind, touched with a disposition to romance which he has shown from his youth upwards. He rises early, walks a great deal, always alone, through the woods and moun tains around, preferring the margins of the brooks which flow through those charming scenes in great abundance. He often sits down beneath the shade of a tree, or upon a flowery bank, to listen to their music, forgetting altoge ther, for the time, that he has upon his shoulders the weight of a kingdom. But he has his stated hours for business, to which he regularly attends : he bad with him at Bruckenau his celebrated minister, M. Abell, and a member of his council of state, M. Schilcher, together with several secretaries, who were said to be constantly employed. As a husband and the father of a family, Louis is a model for sovereigns. Neither the Queen nor any of their children were with him upon this occasion. It is very well known that his majesty has published several volumes of poetry, chiefly containing his meditations upon the scenes he had visited, and the objects of art which he admired in Greece and Italy. But amongst his effusions are found many admirable thoughts upon the philosophy of life, which speak a high and gifted mind, deeply imbued with a sense of religion, and a true feel ing as to the vanity of all human enjoyments.—Quin's Travels, SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS. —In the religious world, as it is called, of. the present day, three classes of minds distinctly appear, the spiritual, the intellectual, and the formal; and in the world around, who turn not their thoughts to religion, there are the same three classes re markably distinct among men at the present time. It is by cherishing these feelings and combining them, and hot by suppressing them, that the church will become efficient in laying hold of, and guiding and turning to good ac count, these same desires in the world, and of which she is given the fellow-feeling for this very end. There is a very high tone of spirituality in one party in the church, far higher, we believe, than at any preceding period., which is given them to lay hold of, and bring into the church, all that class of men who are of a spiritual character in the world. There is a higher tone of intellectual acquirement in the church now than at any former period, to meet the wants or this highly intellectual age. And there is a taste for form and order revived, in a very remarkable degree, and among very numerous classes, in the church, and in the world. These characteristics, now appearing sepa rately, need to be combined in the church : while they continue in separate operation, they not only work divi sion and confusion in the church, but the good qualities themselves have a tendency to degenerate and become positively evil. Spirituality, if cultivated exclusively, will soon become little better than Methodism or Dissent, if it do not dwindle down into the follies of Swedenborgh and the Quakers. The menaal acquirements of the church need the root and vigour of spirituality to keep them from running into the rationalism and neology of Germany, or the baser form of our sheer infidelity. And the love of antiquity and delight in ancient forms and practices, which as being old, must necessarily be for the most part Ro man, requires all our care, and the ballast also of spirit uality and theology, to keep it right; for. in our admira tion of ancient forms we are in continual risk of approving and adopting ancient errors and superstitions.—Church of England Quarterly Review. AN AMERICAN PATRIOT.—Mr. Chollop was, of course, one of the most remarkable men in the country ; but he really was a notorious person besides. He was usually described by his friends, in the south and west, as " a sample of our na-tive raw material, Sir," and was much esteemed for his devotion to rational liberty ; for the better propagation whereof he usually carried a brace of revolv ing-pistols in his coat pocket, with seven barrels apiece. He also carried, amongst other trinkets, a sword-stick, which he called his " tickler ;" and a great knife, which (for he was a man of pleasant turn of humour) he called " ripper," in allusion to its usefulness as a means of ven tilating the stomach of any adversary in a close contest. He had used these weapons with distinguished effect in several instances; all duly chronicled in the newspapers; and was greatly beloved for the gallant manner in which he had "jobbed out" the eye of one gentleman, as he was in the act of knocking at his own street-door. Mr. Chol lop was a man of roving disposition ; and, in any less ad vanced community, might have been mistaken fur a vio lent vagabond. But his fine qualities being perfectly un derstood and appreciated in those regions where his lot was cast, and where he had many kindred spirits to con sort with, 40 may be regarded as having been born under a fortunate star, which is not always the case with a man so much before the age in which he lives. Preferring , with a view t o the gratification of his tickling and ripping fancies, to dwell upon the outskirts of society, and in the more remote towns and cities, he was in the habit of emi grating from place to place, and establishing in each some business—usually a newspaper—which he presently sold; for the most part closing the bargain by challenging, stab bing, pistoling, or gouging, the new editor, before he had quite taken possession of the property. He had come to Eden on a speculation of this kind, but had abandoned it, and was about to leave. He always introduced himself to strangers as a worshipper of freedom ; was the consistent advocate of Lynch law and slavery; and inva riably re commended, both in print and speech, the " tarring and feathering" of any unpopular person who differed from himself. He called this " planting the standard of civilisa tion in the wilder gardens of my country."—Dickens. THE USE OF SYMBOLS IN RELIGIOUS WORSHIP A PROOF OF THE DECLENSION OF SPIRITUALITY.—The truth of God asks only for men as its exponents ; but it is not difficult, in the exercise of a pious fancy, to attach meanings innumerable, of spiritual import, to the use of any material and inanimate thing. Again, as regards lights by the side of the altar, flowers upon the altar, in cense, &c., it should be remembered that their use was of the growth of time ; that they are each symbols of realities, and, as such, could have no true place where the reality existed ; and that they. gradually came to be part of the ceremonial of the worship of the church, as the realities which they symbolised ceased to be mani fested; the people, in like manner, becoming gradually accustomed to their use, as the higher things of life and power died out, and were reconciled to the loss of the reality itself by some gorgeous and external resemblance of its existence. To take one example : when the church forgot, and ceased to stand in her true character as the intercessor for all men on earth, the reality was substi tuted and preserved in remembrance by the visible as cending of material incense. Lighted candles, incense, &c., are, therefore, so many testimonies which the church unconsciously holds forth to men of her own unfaithful ness, and not the proper expression of mysteries and re alities which she cannot otherwise show; for then would she fall into the position of the Jewish Church before the coining of our Lord.—Church of England Quarterly Review. FITZ-BOODLE'S HINT TO THE LADIES.—Whilst ladies persist in maintaining the strictly defensive condition, men must naturally, as it were, take the opposite line, that of attack ; otherwise, if both parties held aloof, there would be no more marriages; and the two hosts would die in their respective inaction, without ever coming to a battle. Thus it is evident that as the ladies will not, the men must take the offensive. I, for my part, have made, in the course of my life, at least a score of chivalrous at tacks upon several strongly fortified hearts. Sometimes I began my works too late in the season, and winter sud denly came and rendered further labours impossible; sometimes I have attacked the breach madly, sword in hand, and have been plunged violently from the scaling ladder into the ditch ; sometimes I have made a decent lodgment in the place, when—bang ! blows up a mine, and I am scattered to the deuce ! and sometimes when I have been in the very heart of the citadel—ah, that I should say it !—a sudden panic has struck me, and I have run like the British out of Carthagena One grows tired after a while of such perpetual activity. Is it not time that the ladies should take an innings? Let us widowers and bachelors form an association to declare, that for the nest hundred years we will make love no longer. Let the young women come and make love to us ; let them write us verses ; let them ask us to dance, get us ices and cups of tea, and help us on with our cloaks at the hall door; and if they are eligible, we may perhaps be induced to yield and say, " La, Miss Hopkins—l really never—l am so agitated—ask papa !"—Frager'B Magazine. THE PRINCESS VICTORIA AND THE OLD IRISHWOMAN. —There was a little incident connected with my first im pressions and first sight of the Princess Victoria, which I record with pleasure. As she proceeded up the High Street from the sands, there sat on the low step of a closed shop an aged Irishwoman, pale, wan, dejected, sorrowing, her head bent forward, and, whilst all nature was gay, she looked sickly, sad, and famishing. Whether she was too depressed to beg, or too exhausted at the moment to make the effort, I cannot tell ; but she asked for no alms, and even looked not at the passers-by. The young princess was attracted by her appearance, and spoke to the duchess. " I think not," were the only words I heard from her mamma ; and, " Oh ! yes, indeed," was all I could catch of the youthful reply. I have no doubt that the. duchess thought the old woman was not in need of relief, or would be offended by the offer of alms; but the princess had looked under her bonnet, and gained a better insight into her condition. There was a momentary pause; the Prin cess Victoria ran back a few steps most nimbly, and with a smile of heartfelt delight placed some silver in the hands of the old Irishwoman. Tall and stately was the poor creature, and as she rose slowly with clasped hands and rivetted features, she implored the blessing of heaven on the " English lady." She little dreamed that that lady would be the future queen of these realms, or that she was a member of that house of Brunswick whose illustrious scions have ever been distinguished for their sympathy with human suffering, and for that charity which is kind and which never faileth. The old Irishwoman was so taken by surprise by this unexpected mark of beneficence on the part of she knew not whom, that she turned over her sixpences again and again, thanked the Virgin as well as the " young lady" a thousand and a thousand times, and related to those who stopped to hear her exclamations the " good luck" that had come upon her.—Fraser's Ma gazine. AFFECTING INCIDENT.—A few evenings afterwards I was sitting in the parlour of one of the many little inns I visited while rambling on the banks of the Tweed, when the waitress informed me that a sodger was spearin' after the colonel." He was directed to attend the pre sence, and my fellow-voyager, the artilleryman, entered the chamber, and made his military salaam. " I thought you were now at Jedburgh." " I went there, sir, but there has not been any of my family for many a year re siding in that place. I met an old packman on the road, and be tells me there are some persons in the village of my name. I came here to make inquiries, and hearing that your honour was in the house, I made bold enough to ask for you." " Have you walked over?" " Yes, sir." " 'Tis a long walk ;go down and get some supper before you commence inquiries." The soldier bowed and left the room, and presently the hostentered to give me directions for a route among the Cheviots, which I had contemplated to take the following day. I mentioned the soldier's errand. " Sure enough," returned the host, " there are an old, decent couple of the name here. What is the sodger called ?" " William," I replied ' • for by that name his discharge and pension -bill were filled up. " I'll slip across the street to the sold folk," said Boni face, " and ask them a few questions." The episode of humble life that followed was afterwards thus described to me by mine host. He found the ancient couple seated at the fire, the old man reading a chapter in the Bible, as was his custom always before he and his aged partner re tired for the night to rest. The landlord explained the object of the soldier's visit, and inquired if any of their children answered the description of the wanderer. "It is our Jock," exclaimed the old woman,passionately ; and the puir ne'er-do-weel has come bame at last to close his mither's eyes." " No," said the landlord, " the man's name is Walley." " 'Peel, weel, His will be done," said his helpmate, turning her blue and faded eyes to Heaven, " I thought the prayer I sae often made would be granted, and Jock would come home and get my blessing ere he died." "He has—he has," exclaimed a broken voice, and the soldier, who had followed the landlord unper ceived, and listened at the cottage door, rushed into the room, and dropped kneeling at his mother's feet-- " Mither, mither, speak and bless me." Alas ! the power of speech was gone for ever. Joy, like grief, is often fatal to a worn-out frame. The spirit had calmly passed, the parent had lived to see and bless her lost one, and expire in the arms of one who, with all his faults, appeared to have been her earthly favourite.—Maxwell's Wanderings in the Highlands, 4 , c. A SHEPHERD'S LIFE IN NEW SOUTH WALES.—The duties of a shepherd in New South Wales are exceedingly simple. A flock usually consists of from 400 to 500 ewes, or from COO to 1000 dry sheep; three flocks being folded at one station. The shepherd is required to take his sheep from the fold in the morning, not later than one hour after sunrise, to keep sight of them on the pastures throughout the day, and to bring them back at sunset to the fold. They are then counted over and left in the charge of the night watchman, whose duty it is to take care of the flocks in the fold until the morning, when each flock is again counted and delivered over to the shepherd. In the lambing season, on well-managed establishments, the ewes about to lamb are withdrawn from the flock and kept se parate, under the care of either the wat c h man or of some other person appointed for the purpose, for a few days, until the lambs are strong enough to travel with t h e flock. At shearing time the flocks are brought in rotation to the home station to be washed and shorn. It is then the shepherd's business (unless he be also a shearer) to follow his sheep and take care that they are kept as free as pos_ sible from any kind of dirt, until the fleece is in a fit state to shear, which, in general, is the case about the third or fourth day after the washing. From this account of the ordinary duty of a shepherd in New South Wales, it will be seen that almost any one is capable of taking charge of a flock. Sheep are subject to very few diseases ; and with the treatment of these either the master or the overseer will be conversant. In such cases the shepherd has only to follow diligently the directions he may receive from those under whose superintendence be is placed, and if possessed of common intelligence he will soon be capable of acting for himself. In fact a weaver or button-maker, after a few months' experience, will generally prove a better shepherd in New South Wales than the man who, having been brought up as a shepherd in England, may have acquired habits and prejudices exceedingly difficult to shake off, however unsuitable to the new position in which he is placed. In proof of this, it may be noticed that some of the best superintendents of sheep in the co lony are natives of London, Manchester, or Birmingham, and that few professed English or Scotch shepherds are entrusted with the care of even a single flock. The duty of a watchman is as easy as that of a shepherd ; he sleeps by the fold in a watch-box, trusting to his dogs to awaken him in case of the approach of a native dog, or any other cause of alarm ; he counts the sheep in and out, and shifts the hurdles. Nor is the life of a shepherd at all irksome to those who have been accustomed to sedentary occupa tions. On the contrary, such persons have, in various instances, become strongly attached to it, which will not seem surprising when it is considered that it is a life of very great ease and fr. edom from care. Indeed, it is commonly remarked of the shepherds that they are more healthy and seem much more cheerful and contented than any other class of farm servants. The wages of a shep herd or watchman have been of late about £3O a-year, on an average, and from 71b. to 101 b. of meat, 101 b. of flour, 2oz. of tea, and 11b. of sugar per week ; or, in the place of tea and sugar, milk. £2O a- year is, however, as much, as in the present low price of wool, can be given, with profit to the sheep-owner; and out of this sum a man of frugal habits may lay by a considerable sum yearly, more particularly should he learn to shear, by which he may put a few pounds into his pocket every summer, in additioh eo r ld,h three e to his wages ; and still more so , should he , by care and good m anag ement, get charge of a breeding flock, and obtain a prize for rearing a large number of lambs. e n family,nt eweit with two ers, o y may, after a short time , take charge of a station ; the t e he to fa fi th ft e e r eo of , o a r s seventeen B A o g n a s i i o f m he tw be twelve sons going out with the flocks , while he acts as watchman, in which capacity he will have many hours unoccupied d ur ing the day, which may be employed in improving his cottage and making his house comfortable. He may also cultivate a garden, or even a small field of corn, whilst his wife would find full employment in domestic matters, the rearing of poultry, &c.; and should there be daughters of sufficient age they will be sure to obtain good situations as servants in respectable families.—A Summer at Port phillip. Jan. 16, 1844. EDINBURGH AND GLASGOW RAILWAY. Sir Andrew Agnew has addressed a letter to the share holders in this undertaking, from which we etract-the following passages. After alluding to the fact, which he states has been established beyond doubt, that the work ing of this railway on Sunday is a loss to the company, Sir Andrew says, " It is expected that this loss will cease, and that by and by there will be gain. The character of Scotland is pledged to the contrary ! In the year 1842 remon strances against the unholy traffic were presented to the Proprietary (and bearing the names of more than 200,000 persons), all of whom declared that they would withhold their countenance from the railway if it continued to violate the law of God, and most of whom pledged them selves to resort to every other mode of travel rather than the railway, while it continued in this unhallowed course. - To this hour, great numbers of these individuals, sub mitting to every inconvenience and l oss , b o th o f time and money, refuse absolutely to enter your railway car riages on any consideration, and never have entered one of them : while of those who have betaken themselves, under extremities, to the railway, scarcely any feel themselves at ease in so doing, and all are ever on the look-out for other means of transit. It is also certain, that besides these, numberless other persons who did not join in the remonstrances, have declared that they would, to the utmost of their power, avoid your railway. And it is quite incalculable how many betake themselves to it only occasionally, and under the pressure of necessity, who would be glad with their families to use it frequently, whether for convenience or for recreation, were it not placing itself in opposition to the righteous principles of the nation. "It is said, to be sure, that the Postmaster-General has now become a party to the Sabbath traffic, by using the trains for the conveyance of the mails ; and certain minds may waver in their opposition on this account. The Postoffice proceedings ought, on the contrary, to strengthen their opposition. The transaction with the Postoffice was entirely the voluntary act of the directors. They may, by act of parliament, be compelled to trans mit the mails, it is said. But then special trains would be necessary for the purpose ; the Postoffice would need to pay the whole expense of such trains • and it is per fectly understood that that expense wo u ld be so great as to prevent the exercising of the parliamentary powers of compulsion. Therefore, if you refuse passengers and railway traffic on the Sabbath, you stop the desecration at once. By sanctioning them, you commit the desecra tion. And let me add, in regard to the whole matter, that by means of a railway post between Edinburgh and Glasgow late on Saturday night and early on Monday - morning, every practical good said to attend the Sabbath ' post would be attained. There is no conceivable inter est, therefore, in the public which could justify the ex- pense of separate Postoffice trains being incurred by the ' Postmaster-General. Your voting for Sabbath traffic is ' the cause of the desecration, and the solemn responsi bility still rests upon you and your company. " Why, then, should this voluntary act of the directors in contracting with the Postmaster-General, embarrass the Sabbath question at all ? You are losing character and money by your Sabbath traffic, and putting your company into needless and injurious opposition to a general national feeling, for no real or avowable object whatever. Were you to act like the proprietors of the Dundee Railway, and apply to the Postmaster-General to relieve you from this unjustifiable Sabbath-profaning contract, you would be a gainer every way,—in charac ter, money, and all. If he complied, your abondonment of your Sabbath traffic would instantly restore the railway to that popularity which it has lost, and to the consequent patronage which it has failed hitherto to obtain. And if he did not comply you would act just as the Dundee company did. You would complete the period of the contracts as far as the mails only were concerned, though that would be a loss. For were loss even to be incurred, why not sustain it rather than continue in sin ? For it must be remembered by you, and by every other indi vidual shareholder, that the sin is yours personally, as long as you either countenance or do not oppose the commission of it by your company. You break the Sab bath, and lead others to break the Sabbath ; and I would apply to you—l must in faithfulness do so—the emphatic words which, used at the Dundee company's meeting, led many of the shareholders to abandon the Sabbath traffic then : It is impossible but that offences will come ; but woe unto him through whom they come ! It were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea.' " The friends of the Sabbath cause do not at all desire power in any secular matter. We heartily leave that in the hands of the gentlemen above referred to ; and the accompanying proxy is so framed as to save every exist ing proxy as to all that. But we do ask you, as you value interests infinitely higher than worldly gain— illusive hitherto, in the present case, as that has been — we do ask you to join in putting an end to this great abuse and profanation which is now, by your means, being weekly committed on every returning Sabbath-day." THE SILK MANUFACTORY OF M. STOFELLA AT ROVEREDO. FROM THE GERMAN. BY HERR TESCHAir. This establishment has gained a high reputation, not only for the quality of the silks manufactured, but for the philanthropic system upon which it is conducted. Four hundred females are constantly employed, who are not only provided with their living, hut every care is taken of their education. A young girl from eleven to fourteen years of age, in poverty, who can produce a certificate of gocd moral conduct and health, is apprenticed from four years and a halt' to six years and a half under an indenture, stipulating that she shall during her appren ticeship be provided with board, lodging, clothing, and instruction in religion, as well as reading, writing, arith metic, needle-work, and all the branches of the manufac ture of silk. After the first six months, every appren tice receives an annual salary of fifteen florins, which sum is placed in the savings' bank of Roveredo. Those parestten dtafter w h o their are d n a a g h very t e needy b c i e r e c n n m twostances, are a p p r p e e n r ticed, to draw an annual allowance. The proprietor himself deposits 500 florins in the bank every year for the purpose of being distributed in different awards to those whose industry and skill are found the most de serving at a public examination. In case of death the parents have a right to claim whatever funds the child may have in the bank. Upon the termination of the apprenticeship the girl is at liberty to return home, or stipulate for employment by the year, (that being the shortest period for which any of them can be engaged,) and receives an increase of payment according to her abilities. Those who, during their apprenticeship, have behaved well, and distinguished themselves, are provided at the end of their term with tools and furniture to com mence business. Their occupation consists in the manu facture of all sorts of silks, and every week tweuty-five of the number are alternately instructed in domestic affairs. Certain leistfre hours are allowed for meals, lessons, and recreation, End when they walk out some of the teachers are appointed to accompany them. The whole establishment is conducted by Mr. Stofella, and consists of twenty superintendents, vii., one doctor, one vice -director, six teachers, and twelve overseers.—Lon don Polytechnic Magazine. THE VENTILATION OF MINES. Deep mines are thought to be more infested with the fire-damp than more superficial ones. There are two causes to be assigned for this : First, in those mines which lie near the surface, more of the gas exhales or finds its way into the atmosphere than from deep ones ; secondly, the pressure of the superincumbent atmosphere, and the consequent condensation of the gas, will evidently be greater in proportion to the depth of the mine. When, therefore, in a deep mine, the gas becomes confined and pressed up under an arch or vault, remaining long there in, it forms an explosive mixture, and on being ignited, detonates with great violence. Again, it appears that a considerable time is required for the gas to mingle with air, so as to form an explosive mixture ; as evinced by the more explosive state of the damp in old wastes, or old excavations ; and also, by the practice of consuming the gas in the mine, before it ac cumulates in great quantity, or becomes explosive by mixing with atmospheric air. This is done by means of en to . These facts considered, why not, I would ask, take / t a he candle ~aultfi or xed roof, to and a p so ol e ' fires-h which of the inherent property of car b urette d hydro gen to ascend, by allowing, f rom th e moment of its emission, a free and unob s t ruc t e d escape out of the works ? This re qu ire s no ven til at i on, or forcing of cur thhe the e arb workman uret ted hy ra d i r s o e g s rents of air through the mine, but simply a removal of all obstacles to its natural course; which is to be done by cutting away all depressions in the roof so as to form a gas-way drift or channel overhead, ascending out towards • the shaft, or to a perforation (one or more) made by boring down from the surface, or by an additional small shaft, either or both being used according as local cir cumstances may require, the grand object being to permit the fire-damp to pass off ind.o the atmosphere as fast as it is generated or evolved in the works. As to the usual system of stopping off the damp, forming other pass-ways, and driving it about from one part of the mine to another, often through long circuitous passages, at vast trouble and expense, and the frequent destruction of human life ; all this we think might be avoided by simply giving the gas its own way. By the method now proposed, the mines might, we presume, be rendered not only safe, hut comparatively healthy and more comfortable to the miners, enabling them to work with open lamps or candles, free of all danger from explosion (at least wherever carburetted hydrogen forms the explosive gas), and thus avoiding the enormous expense of a numerous retinue of attendants, with Davy-lamps, the ventilating, brushing, stopping, and trap-door system, together with the services of over men, viewers, under-viewers, and trappers, by which system the safety of the mine, if safety it can be called, is committed to the fearful contingencies of unremitting care and vigilance in such attendants.—London Poly technic Magazine. Captain Taylor, celebrated as a fly-fisher, caught a trout, on Christmas-lay, near Barnard Castle, weighing about 3 oz.