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

Etterature. POETR Y. THE FIRESIDE. Ant.—" The days we went a gipsying." I have tasted all life's pleasures—l have sn , :tcliedat all its joys— The dance's merry measures, and the revel's testive noise ; Though wit flash'd bright the live-long night, and flowed the ruhy tide, I sighed for thee—l sighed for thee, my own fire side in boyhood's dreams I wandered far, across the o'cean's breast, In search of some bright earth.) , 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 fii elide ! 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 doth 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 crond of years— Their triumphs or their failures—their sunshine or their tears— How 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 flizht; Still let me dream, life's shadowy stream may yield from oat its tide, A mind at rest—r , tranquil breast—a quiet fireside ! CARDINAL DE RETZ, THE COURTIER'S PLOT. BY PETER POPJOY, Esq. (For the Liverpool Standard.) CHAPTER XVI. Which,ibeing the last, it is left to speak for itself. FABIEN felt, as may be naturally expected, the utmost eagerness and anxiety to comm ipicate to Elizabeth the happy results of this memorable meeting. The young wife was greatly surprised that the Queen should wish to see them that evening nt 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 pise me." 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 som ew h a t c l ou d e d by the recollection of the cruel manner in which his bro ther had been treated that day in the hall 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 distinctkn, 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 find 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 chamber. " What," said Fabien, "is this splendid dress for me P It does not become my humble state." " Oh ! this is not all," 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 will have footmen and pages, bearinc , 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 P" " And to whom should you be indebted if not to the brave and gallant Paul de Gondi, coadjutor of the Arch bishop of Paris, arid who soon will be Cardinal de Retz !" " What, does be still think of us, overwhelmed as he must be by visitors, occupations, cares, and difficulties ?" " 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 thing. 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. FalSien 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 ellpressly 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 roadjutor, 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 or dered it to he stopped, and leaped out, bidding Eliza beth not to be alarmed at his absence. 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 ; but may I ask if the interview you desire with the Coadjutor has any reference to a certain duel P" " Who the deuce told you that," interrupted the Mar quis, with surprise ; " but you were perhaps in the ante chamber 10-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' " I am the person." " In that case," said the Marquis, in a grave voice, " I have a melancholy duty to perform towards you. Will you follow me ?" " Where P" " 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." _ Fabler', in great excitement, quickly followed his guide. At that moment he forgot all his brother's crimes, and his only desire was 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." " My brother," replied a feeble voice from the car riage ; " has Fabler , then come to soothe try dying mo ments P" The Marquis saluting him, stepped to the gr,mnd, making a sign to Fabien to take his place, retiring a few paces, to avoid witnessing this mournful interview. " Yes, 'tis I, Baron," said Fabien, in great agitation ; c, i t 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. " Come," 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 tote, but of profound bitterness, " you are the son of Madame de Bien!, an d w ill 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 straflge 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 paler 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 anger 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. Fabieu 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 Fahien's long absence, now came up to the c arr i age , preceded by th 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 ! Mademoiselle ; 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 ? 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 ? 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 will crown you, while I, hated, scoffed at and scorned —well—adieu !" His words faded away—the malediction hung on his lips, unpronounced. The bad man was dead. Elizabeth and Fl:bien remained a minute or two ab- sorbed in grief and chilled with terror, until the Marquis de Crenati 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 censiderable attention, and found favour in the eyes of Anne of Aus- trig, 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,• but 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 groundwork 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 suffi 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-. serves. Both in the style of its articles and the force of its arguments, it accords more with our taste 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 he true by " most certain warranty of holy scripture." We see here no tampering with pol itical 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 Remembrancer. 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 paper on Baptismal Regeneration, in which the following points are established :—First, that n either scripture nor general usage fixes and confines the term "regener9tion" to one exclusive sense ; secondly , tha t scripture views the new birth as a spiritual and permanent change, and nowhe re 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 themselves. 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 in 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. Simpkin, Mar- The Christian's Monthly Magazine. shall, and Co., 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 tr a diti ons ," h av e f a llen into all sorts of fancies and vain conceits. We lave the number for March —being the thi r d s i nce it s cTmmencement—andin it we have vari ous exce ll ent art i c l es un d er eac h o f the fol lowing heads, which constitute generally the divisions under which the varied coutents of the magazine are ar ranged : Theology and Philosophy—Art and Antiquity— Miscellaneous Literature Correspondence Monthly Register—Editorial Retrospect. SECOND EDITION. Standard-office, Two o'clock. SERIOUS GALE in the IR,ISH CHANNEL, SERIOUS LOSS OF LIFE AND DAMAGE TO SHIPPING. For the last few days a heavy gale from the south-east has prevailed in the Channel, and occasioned serious de struction of life and property. The following particulars have been kindly afforded us by Mr. Court, the master of the Underwriters' Rooms. " Wexford, 171 h March, 1844. " Thomas Court, Esq. " Dear Sir,—l regret to state that the Georgina, Wil son, master, from Liverpool to Arica, with a general cargo, struck on Black water Bank this morning, and sunk about a mile from the shore, part of her masts over water. Twelve of the crew were lost coming on shore in the boat. William Curran, mate, and David M`Lean, seaman, were saved." The Georgina is, we understand, owned by the executors of the late Joh❑ Worrall, deceased, and the loss of ship and cargo is estimated at upwards of £40,000, little of which, we are happy to learn, in insured in Liverpool. " Pwllheli, 17th March, 1844, 10 p.m, Wind S.E., blowing fresh. " Thos. Court, Esq. " Dear Sir,—Since my report of last night. the gale continued with great violence all night, and most part of this day. At daylight this morning there were only three vessels that rode out the gale at St. Studwell's-roads, viz., the schooner Myriam, of Pwllheli ; the Content, Roberts, of Pwllheli ; and the French brig. In all, 12 are now on shore, including those I reported last night, viz., schooner Hope, of Milford ; schooner Roberts, from Bangor for Exeter; schooner Elizabeth, from Barrow for Swansea; smack Gelert, from Portmadoc for Bridge water; smack Ellen, from Portmadoc for Swansea; smack Unity, of Cardigan ; smack Hopewell, of Cardi gan ; brig Catherine, of Whitehaven, from Whitehayen for Cardiff, with iron ore, carried away windlass and bitches, slipped both anchors, and makes a deal of water." " Dublin, 18th March, 1844. " Thomas Court, Esq. " SlR,—The night of the 15th instant, and all the sub sequent day, it blew a perfect storm from the N.E., and continued until yesterday at noon. Several colliers and light craft have been wrecked at Kingstown Harbour, of which the names are annexed. The Kish Bank light-ship also broke her chain, and ran for this port, but we expect will be replaced this tide, or, at furthest, the next tide, by a relief light-ship, as every exertion is making to get her out to her station. The schooner Active, of Leith, Capt. Norman, with wheat, from Derry to Drogheda, went to pieces near Clogher Head ; crew saved. The schooner Majestic, Corkhill master, of Ramsey, from Runcorn to Dublin, with coals, is on shore on the Velvet Strand, near Baldoyle, but expected to be got off if the weather keeps moderate. The schooner Mary, of Milford, James mas ter, with oats, from Killala to London, is stranded badly on the Wicklow Bar, and has damaged her cargo. The schooner Seymour, of Bray, struck on the Burford Bank, and capsized, crew drowned. Weather now moderate. LIST OF WRECKED AT KINGSTOWN HARBOUR. Brig Honour, of Maryport, with coals. „ Mary, of Whitehaven, ditto. Schooner Betties, of Liverpool, ditto. Brig Tom, of Vs , hitehaven, ditto. Schooner Agnes, of Preston, ditto. Schooner Belview, of Greystones, ditto. Schooner Jane & Francis, much injured. Brig Pandora, ditto. Sloop Catherine Mary, ditto. Brig Maria, of Whitehaven, ditto. Sloop Colonel Smith, of Carnarvon. THIRD EDITION. Standard-office, Three o'clock. LIVERPOOL CORN EXCHANGE, Tins DAY. (From Messrs. R. Makin & Sons' Circular.) Notwithstanding the heavy gales from the westward during part of last week, immediately followed by a strong wind from the east, the arrivals into this port since the 12th instant provide a good supply of English, Irish, and Foreign Wheat conjointly ; and while the receipts of other Grain are but moderate, those of Oatmeal and Flour from Ireland are again liberal, including 4,910 barrels of the latter from Nova Scotia and the States. Our market this morning was tolerably well attended by town and country millers ; the latter, however, being enabled to purchase Wbeat from other sources- at a rela tively cheaper rate than san be done here, they were ex tremely inactive ; whilst the former, who are generally low in stock, bought most descriptions upon a moderate scale, at a decline of about 2d. per 70Ib. from the terms' of this day week, which holders readily conceded. Flour, continuing to meet an excessively dull sale, must be noted at least Is. per sack and Is. per barrel lower. Barley and Malt remaining nearly without inquiry, were nominally the turn cheaper. Beans on the contrary, were in tolerable request at the full rates of Tuesday last ; but in Pease, little or no business was-transacted. Oats, although in very limited demand, maintained late prices. —Oatmeal was further reduced in value, the• top price this morning being 21s. 9d. per 2401 b. ARRIVALS OF CORN, From the 12th., to the 18th. Marc?, 1844, inclusive. IRE. COAST- FO. LAND. WISE. CANADA REIGN. TOTAL'. Wheat .. Ors. 2199 1804 4070 8 , 73' Barley Qrs. 591 28 619 Malt Qrs. 361 2199 2560 Oats Qrs. 2573 1639 4212' Rye Qrs. r7l 171 Beans Qrs. 4+ 320 t 364 Pease Qrs. SheiledßarleyQrs. Indian Corn. Qrs. 13 15 Rapeseed Qrs. Oatmeal .. Loads , 6153 24 6177 Flour. .... Sacks : 35r8- Is 3836 Ditto lles. I 927 3983 4910 Into Runcorn, Ireland and Coastwise, Wheat, 838 qrs. ; Malt, qrs. ; Oats. 516 qrs.; Beans, cgs, ; Oatmeal, 826 loads; Flour, 563 sacks. EXPORTS.—Foreign. Malt, qrs. ; Oats, qrs. ; Pease, qrs. ; Indian Corn, 0 qrs.; Oatmeal, O loads ; Flour, 657 brls.--Ireland. Wheat; 215 qrs. ; Beans, qrs ; Indian Corn, 200 qrs. ; Oatmeal, 146 loads ; Flour, 100 sacks, brls.— Coastwise. Wheat, 43. qrs. ; Barley, 104 qrs. ; Malt, 300 qrs. ; Oats, 25 qrs. ; Beans, 5 - qrs. ; Pease, to qrs.; Oatmeal 16 loads.; Flour, 119 sacks 8a brls. Average prices of Grain, for the week ending March 9. 1914. Wheat 565. Od. i Barley 335. 6d. Oats :9s. Ild. 1 Rye 333. 9d. Beans... 30s. sd. 1 Pease.. 3rs. Od. Aggregate average of the six weeks. Wheat 53s ad I Barley 33s 5d I Oats igs 4d. ! Rye 333 5d Beans.. 31s. 04. j Pease.. 31s. 6d. Duty on Foreign Grain, B,rc . this week. WheatlSs Od I Barley 5s 04 Oats .. . Od I Rye.. gs 6d Beans 103 64 I Pease.. 10s 64 I Ind. Corn 05,00 Flour los 10d Ditto from British Colonies out of Europe Wheat.. is. od. I Barley.. Os. 6d. I Oats ..25. Od. Rye.. is Od Beans 25.. 6d I Pease 25..6d. I Ind. Corn Os. Od. Flour.. Os 7id Liverpool Averages, week ending March 12, 1834. Wheat, 146 qrs., price 545. 2d. Barrey,7qrs., price 28s. 10d. Oats, 216 qrs., price igs..3d. Beans, 18 qrs,,,price 345. Bd. SELECTIONS.. ANECDOTE OF TILE EMPEROR FRANCIS 11. OF Aus— TRlA..—There is a story told of the Emperor Francis 11., which I believe tube perfectly true, and which fully cor— roborates Prince Metternich's description of the parentaL character or 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," waathe 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 obscures* of his subjects.—Fraser's Magazine. 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 th e 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. AD LIBITUM ORNAMENTS IN SINGING.—One night, while Handel was in Dublin, Dubourg having a solo part in a song, and a close to make, 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 Burneis Sketch of the Life of Handel, THE LiVERPOOL BTANDARD. IRISH LANDLORDS.—Tne two greatest faults of Irish landlords are 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 have no character, no property, or standing in society, beyond the reputation of being keen, shrewd, and active. These persong, 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 treache r y. R espec t a bl e men , res id en t on or near the estate, possessing both character and pro perty, should always be selected for this important trust. But, above all thins, 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 Traits 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 af te r war d s h e was to ld hi mself by the earl's private secretary;—" Lord Oxford has received your letters : he will answer them, but not today•, `sicut olim', nothi ng can c h ange him." In the crisis of 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 soliciting for your picture, and if I had solicited you for £l,OOO (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."—Tozensend's History of House of Commons. HER MAJESTY'S Crow .--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 ikurs-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 , Four crosses, each composed of 25 dia monds Four large diamonds on the tops of the crosses.. . 40,000 Twelve diamonds contained in fleur-de lis Eighteen smaller diamonds contained in the same Pearls, diamonds, &c., on the arches-and 12,000 10,000 2,000 crosses Also tine hundred and forty one diamonds 500 Twenty-six diamonds on the upper cross 3,000 Two circles of pearls about the rim.... 300 xrri,9oo We know not upon what data this statement was made ; but it will be &nerved, 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 berow 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 itsdiameter, at the rim, isfiveinches. This crown is worn by her Majesty whenever she opens and closes, in person, the houses of parliament. —Po/y. tecnnic Magazine. Pori= An--rovrov.n.r... OF THE HISTORT ov' TIM LAST FIFTY YEARS.—The part which England took in the long and mighty struggle against the despotism - of de inocracy, the efforts of ambition, the injustice and opprese 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 eighteee to thirty. They have heard ore national debt of eight hun dred millions of pounds sterling; but they have also " beard 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 very general circulation. They have heard of a H'oese ALLIANCE, and have been told that Lord Castlereagh and the Ruke of Wellington joined " the Despots of the 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 believethis, .—for no one has set about proving to them the contrary; and 80 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- - banded 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 shewing the contrar3 , 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 woukli not now be struggling with closed markets and against'high protecting duties levied by foreign governments oreEng 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." Andeno one has taken the trouble, nay the pleasnre, to shew to them, that but for the conduct England then pur sued we should have had no manufacturers at an,—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 Lim 'MURTH has been propagated, and the history of England, from 1793 to 1815, has been backwards, or topsy-turvy, by our now youths of from eighteen to twenty-five years•of age.—Fraser's 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 E 4 was not prepared for the novel spectacle of the very " sylphides" themselves strutting about with huge, undisguised, verita ble cigars in their months, puffing and smoking like so many yellow chimney -pats,. that they resemble much both in symmetry and colour. Smoking 1 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 ; . .;let custom has inured men to this. But a woman's smoking was a barbarism L 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 vereath 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 colossal cigar, and of a borsekilling strength, with a:1 the nonchalance of a veteran smoker, was an outrageous novelty that ab sorbed me quite z 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 ,fanny 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 comsting-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 Havaneco 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, bat, or neckcloth ; but without his cigarito, he could neither 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 th e s ame ti me , and fills up the gaps of conversation. A ci g ar o ug ht to be the national em blem of Cub a ; certainly, nothing is more completely identified with th em i n my m i n d, an d I s h a lt neve r recall a friend to memory who will not be enveloped in a soft haze of tobacco stroke.—Fenry Elssler at the 141vana Fraser, Cheap prices of grain are like the • the greatest of all blessings is - , ccording as they arise from ''on, or magnitude of fo - had an example du ' - - Itn 1830 to 1835, nctically aho -nt high CHEAP PRICEg.— Am reeta cap in Kellam , the greatest of all curses, magnitude of domestic product.. reign importation. Of the first vt... ring the five fine years in succession, hs during which the foreign importation wag lished by the abundant harvests, and consEtp, duty on grain under the sliding scale. This was a tmt. as all the world knows, of universal and unexamplsu commercial prosperity. Of the second we had a rnernO rable example during the five bad years in successibn, which elapsed from 1836 to 1840, in the course of which the cern-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 1843, which again gave us plenty, derived from domestic production, and 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 he much dislikes to hear 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.—Aa compared with other evergreen coniferous trees, it surpasses them all in grand and picturesque effect; and, wben arrived at m a t ur ity, or approaching those gigantic dimension s w hi c h i t ac wires in its native habits, may justly be considered as one of the most magnificent of the vegetable creation. In iteform 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 riarnidical head, 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 s h a d ow i ng 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 rail of that city ; and ancient cedars- also enter into its imaginary view of the Garden of Edge;—Selby's British Forest Trees. STRAwnguitY HILL. 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 nubile atten tion with so much modesty and adioitness ; there is such a degree of tact connected with the mode of comcnenica tion, that Puna, 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, tothe effect that he had engaged the services of a great literary divine, classically endowed with an income of only one thousand pounda.a year, to compose his own amusing advertisements. Our readers, after they have had their smite, need not be told this is all fudge—a story long since worn out—for- we do know that whatever racy 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 it readers with a new version of a stale joke. The ex-- chancellor, Lord Brougham, it is now discovered, is the 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 thereis 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) en Richmond Hill; so recherche in the-several departments in the arts and sciences, that it will not be l QUITE SACRILEGE ' to designate it a Montle revival to Strawberry Hill. Now oonsidering he is treading on such classiaground, 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 EMILA.PTURED 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 Ptinch'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 ns 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 be disguised, it mu,/ 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 .I,:`:D 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 younr , 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, hut 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.seturn 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 en the labour of his. hands. England can undersell In.dia 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. Vtie 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 Hindustan, where iico 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 equalisation 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.unvaryinglaw 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 acquire the same decisive superiority over distant and comparatively t p i o o o n r ores; maes.wnlitlifcahotwarees. s see da u i p ly po e s x e e , na foplirfieedxaimmptlho, h the produc tion in ue consequence 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 etTectually as she does their manufacturers in the production of cotton goods; that she could sell in the Polish market wheat at five shillings a quarter, when they require fifteen shillings to remunerate the cost of produc tion. Would not the result be, that commerce between 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 is provided to the undue multiplication of the species in particular situa,- tions, and the dispersion of mankind over the globe—a vital object in the system of nature—is secured, from the very necessities and difficulties in which, in the progress of society, the old and wealthy community becomes in. volved.--131aqkwoo4',7 Magazine, March 19, NA THE LATE FATAL DUEL. of Lieutenant h is duel w it A h lu th n e ro u l n 'a fo s to the Hon. T. S. Duncombe, M.P. for Finsbury.r extract his account of the origin of the duel. Aft hieh be ing detailed, at some length, a transaction in w letting was concerned for Colonel Fawcett, in respect to z. a ,. 4 a house, he states that the Colonel had said ),_ . ' e ' r ; r a t d u cl o r a e t s e se L d ie a u l t et . t c er o (Lieutenant Munro) had been very fortunate in his ti him folfG‘fj+ , - - to call up „ 1 Fawcett) requested me o ati to explain to him what o ' e s _ m e; as soon as I cons.J• that I baa paid to his credit. I did 0, 0u _.. - ours to serve him. The Lieutenant thee proceeds as same were anfortunatel l Y• d LieL n ' nention that when I accompanie that b e I have now to o the city, he hinted to Me ..„ 05 t Colonel Fawcett t.: lt •non his mind that ren' had some suspicions called upon him on the e, l _A. unhappy nature. When .neared considerably ertele!, ing of the 29th of June? he 5).„ of Romer in the ree l !, There was a person of the henna •.red, although nPus"; on the evening of the 26th of last n.% who was sent away as soon as I r t hi n k that I Was previous occasions he had remained. once o n n et the e r g a u wl e .t e tt expected; and, from the accounts being at 'hat .n t e , upon, and from other ci rcums t ances , I b e get -- gross insult that was put upon me afterwards Wag . 7 7,14 ditated. The small sums p rev i ous l y a ll u d e d to Were i t k explained to his satisfaction ; but the £3O that Mrs. tl ar, was allowed for the loss she had sustained in taking mar; wick-house with a bad tenant in it, was made the s'And l a upon which a quarrel was to be effected. I endrael'i a repeatedly to make him understand that it was stfittl e a conformity with his own directions that Mrs. Sini th „ t io been let off paying £5O, as well as to draw his atteu t b e f to the important services I had rendered him in c ' e; matters, and the high price I had obtained for the 1 1 but he kept constantly reverting to the case of they,; te and insinuated repeatedly that I had neglected his .%. rest, and bad allowed myself to be bamboozled by Smith. * * * I remained perfectly Pl as. under all the insinuations for a cons id era bl e time. ",, t I tried to get him off the subj ec t o f th e £5O, b u t he "` .. . 4 , perpetually and violently returni ng t o it, an d bl am ing a t e as pointedly as he could, fo r a ll th a t was wrong a bout tu . , delay in the sale of the house. Th e consc i ousnes s of F 32 most zealous, fortunate, and unwearied exertions in favour made me doubt for a long ti me if h e cou ld tell mean what he said ; at last I o b serve d, Well, Falrc e ont . f this is a very different ret urn f rom w h at I expec ted, 1 " I have attended t o y our i nterests as I never d id to ra own. I have se rve d you as no other man coul d hate done, and you h ave f requent l y i nsinuated that I neglect ed your affairs or interest when you were absent.' He re ; plied loudly, I did not, sir.' I answered, • Y on did, e; I understood you to do so.' H e violently answeredf flat contradiction I will bear from no man.' He t he bell (he was during the whole of the above time, o r netinf so, walking hurriedly about the ro om ), opene d the &to' , before the servant could answer to the' bell, and COI out in a rage, ' Open the door, and keep it open tie ' Mr. Munro is turned out of the house.' I- was so cot; founded by the unexpected and unnecessary violence e` the act, with the recklessness and ingratitude evinced 1 1 it, that I did not know what to do or what to say; bu t t ,. remained for a few minutes, an d th en went away , n eat distracted with the cruel and gross insult put upon use 'y a person whom I had rendered such service to • II"' supposing that I might be spurned for permitting rt, returned and said. that if it bad not been for the e 01 1; nexiorr that existed between us , an d t h e unseem l y n atn' , of such a proceeding, I would b r i ng hi m to account tro‘rV or have resented it upon' the spot. He replied that se the connexion, he wished never to hear of it again, a n , hoped that it would not prevent me from doing wha: referred to.- I then went away. Up on t h e f o llool morning I took the opinion of a n o ffi cer o f ac k now ledk e judgment, and of upwards of thirty years' standing in L tm ,, t army, upon the unfortun a te o c c u rrence. H e said tu" during the course of his service he h a d never h ear d of 6 0 gross an outrage, and that, as &British officer upon ( 1' pay, I had no alternative whatever b u t w h at wa s USLI: viz., an apology or a meeting. I' then called upon Grant, and took hi m , w ith me to consult with a frientt " ~,, much experience in th ese un h appy a ff a i rs: His 001; entirely coincided w ith, th a t o f my other friend ; b u t said he would tak e th e ad v i ce o f a generalioffleer abou t ' ; whose reply was, that no officer holding- her Majestl i :" commission could po ss ibly ex i st un d er such an inec''' In the course of the same clay I took the'opinionts of thr ee other friends (all o ffi cers , or h av i ng been in. the arcal) ; they all said, that, however lamentable the prareedint was,•l was comp e ll e d t o up h o ld the honour of the' vte ti°: I held in the service at the hazard of rn7life. 1 hoPe,. that one wo r d o f regret m i g h t have been expressed Ate the wanton and gross insult put upon me • but none ere c t ' be given,. and a mee ti ng was proposed that day liy Col. Awcett, to which Mr. Grant objected: When found, late in the evening of the 30th of June,•thar P h " amicable arrangeme n t was lik e l y to b e come to. alth° l- I had left' the affair entirely in the hands of My , SeCOP' -' I wrote auote, recommending my wife and ciiildren the care' Gf some friends ; and also a paper (whicliVaign e . o . ! in the presence o f two witnesses), d ec l ar i ng th a t deeply deplored being obliged to go oarwith Fawcett, and that,. from circumstancea - over which no control', r was forced to do so. I most earnestly de sired that some arrangement might be curie to the folio!: ing morning;-and' I made three appeals to Mr. Grante#7 the ground with that view, saying each time, Good 0 ,9`.`; Grant, can nothing b e d one t o stop t hi s d rea df u l ana l d from going on' . but it appears he was so obstinately t i t., violently reczived't'he day before by Lie u t.-C o l. Faifc' d that he had n© hope o f com i ng t o a f r i en dif' un derstan ing." The following'extract w ill convey some icit of LiC nt '' Munro's state of'mind I) 5 , P „ M Y " wilt not attempt to describe my own nz L state of mind, Move r hays- been forced to • - „ a n tn A re country, my professi on , an d my beloved wlft., father, moth er , an d relations but those who have knc" — me from my childh oo d, and my gallant comrades , c an conceive what I h av e su ff ere d . I had a happy and a con tented home ; my ut mos t an d constant en d ea vnurs were directed to pe r f orm , t o t h e b est o f my power , my duties to my God, t o a n men, and also as a f a ithful subject' to her most gracio us M a je s ty ;: and I am now a marked and wretched exile. It has be en sa id th a t I was to enter s foreign service, a n d I have occasionally in my solitual and wretchedne ss th oug ht o f d o i ng so ; b ut my h ea rt an affections are, a nd ever - w ill rema i vr, w i t h my ki n d r ed anl my country; and I do no t thi n k t h at I nee d b e asham ed of owning that when alone I. have- shed many a bitterte al for what has happened, but what I could not preven t ' But I have a great consolation in the assurance that merciful and all-seeing. Maker will hold me gu iltlessf the abominable and h orr ible crime' that erring men', li ke myself, lay to my charge." VOLUNTARY STARVATION. --Some time ago,NIT. J anie : Osborne, of Newark-upon-Trent„ Nottinghamshire, 'c a robbed of a considerable •surn of money by a boy na 9ed Thomas Charles, in whom •he had placed great confidenc e t This -circumstanc e p reye d so d eeply upon his min d as produce an aberration' of 'intellect,. and on the 15th o f February last he attempted t o commit suicide by n atl.. his throat. He was, however, prevented from doing t hc r• and since that period has-never been suffered to h e lo' himself ; but from that time he stedfastly refused to t! , e • the slightest nourishment,sand.even treated with viole a h e any person who offered him food. On the 29th nit' died from exhaustion. gond,aF atrrOIDE FROM DEPRESSION OF'SPI)RTTS.—vo, lS week an inquest wns held at the Friendship Inv, P ur ia - n a. near Appleby, on the body'of James Harrison, „l e d some months past had complained of pain about his heart when he was m bed, attended bf, particularly at nights. sickness which produced-pain in the head and for which f ma rom n, theof thathrae branch place, o fn ag a e s d h 7 t 3 re vi i • n ho s w i3 as ow f i o , u fi n e a ld s . usp H en o , : his wife was obliged to tie up his head with a handker chief. He had not any work for many weeks ; hut, up t° this time, had no occasion,to complain o f want, but hal'.i: always decently to put on with, when out of work he P in ; n ed and fretted a good deal: Within the last month be ha d stated that his spirit s were dow, and hewould never be. i :, able to work agai n . O n Monday he got up between eigh t and nine o'clock, took a •rope and said he would fetch" come hay from the stack, which is in the:field [about t ,`. quarter of a mile distant, After he had been a bsent abolL' . two hours she thought he stayed long, and went to In`EZ for him; wh en s h e got to- the-held she fo un d hi m suspend ed from an ash tree near the-hay stack. GATHERINGS ERTRAoRDiNARY.—A venerable l l P i a j e man and wife, and both- highly respectable people, a so . lately in Gallow a y, w ithi n a d ay o f one another . wn° e effects, if brought to- sale, wou ld f urn i s h matter for.n of the most curious catalogues that was perhaps ever sub witted by an auctioneer to the attention of the plibl i Deposits of silver coin secreted i n pl aces w h ere no on . d ownoeu parcel,l have e a r v e e f r e r r e w a dreamed p e o d f in oo a k i p n i g e efeo of r s r u a e g h , f e e.% e nd In the corner of a lumber,drawer ; others in paper cram o ,,, into an old basket, or. hid in outhouses, or some eiltla'7, unpromising corner. These coins app ear t o hare been shut toutfro valuesm the they liglit o f represent,day fora suchnumber e s .6d of years,,o . 3 f r°o the different ~in ; 2s. 6d., and 55.; and h a d b ecome, i n consequence. P ; only tarnished, bat near l y as bl ack as soot itself.. The:: were also gold coin s , f ore i gn as well as Briti3h,pf , small values up to £5, with a great variety of diffire” to , articles, the fancy of the party appearing to have been have a somethiwg eof everything. Of these, let the fO, lowing specimens. suffice :—Eight rich) ornamented ding whips ; 18-unbroken pieces of linen ; 3a pair, of sheets ; 20 dozen of towels ; about 250 r i c h -co l oure d al` handkerchiefs ;; thr ee d ozen thimbles of divers me...tcisf 30 pairs of scissors, an d one gold pair ditto; 100 palls 's silk stockings.;, 30 gowns, made and unmade;. if,woca o ?„ bonnets; a lot of sh oema k ers ' waxed threads. with brlt tles attached i, ,- coffin lacing • and a great number of „, - ; s e ties of wines and sp i r i ts, of all qualities., Part of t"'" o .. were found in an old tea-chest, supposed to contain 1, 5 ,. , 1 thing but rubbi s h ; b ut when the assistant to a Pr ° Et s sional gentleman, engaged in inventozina• the effects!, - c eS directed to throw it out , h e d rew from their hiding seventeen bottles of wines and spirit-3,, some of tho for`i e r Champagne. B u t t h ere was an en d less array o f °t too • nick-nacks, an enumeration of which would cocuP l much space, if not exhaust the patience of the reader. The husband, in this ease, was a great PlgZiec fancier for many years, and possessed a very large 00 tie d tion of these birds, which he regularly fed and afr i se with his own hands, and which included nearly a" h varying breeds known in the world; and, a lthoulk sh o lengthened period has intervened, we s till recollect ells, pointing out a curious fact in natu ra l history—ir, f o ot. that every time the turtle-dove coo s , it lift s its rign,lar And that such is literally the f ac t, was prov ed by u' rie a; demonstration. He had also a numb er o f fine can si nce but all his feathered favourities have been dispersed his death among friends and acqu a i n t ances residing ",,pll the locality which knew him so long and well, buetZor know him no more. Many of the doves were exce, f o ror beautiful, And even valuable to persons desirous ( : ) „„ it riff:.• tag a collection, gap ex.tended scale.--.Dumfries L'‘` hi ----_•".... LE days cloth The n shall dal]) Thu] Was, is n R c mart Price three dial) LE the f 15 0 1111 alder 'eel Med trPoi Bolt Itirri Bin ] Di .ri g kelt leirk Di Doti D 0 ,4 ast Di Glas G rail bit QU Ne Grea Dit G rew Rut' Dit Leeds Leiee Lanci Ditl Liver Diti Dit Lond4 Diii Lond Dit Lond Mane lianc Div Mane Ditl Midla No t rcli Ditt bitl Nora, New, N ew , Rune, hlarw Roue , Sheen soutt