The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-02-27 00:00:00

itzraturt POETRY. MY PASTOR'S VOICE. (For the Liverpool Standard ) I love to hear my pastor's voice. the sound Is truly sweet, This ,nessage from the Lord he brings,—" Prepare the Truth to meet." Away with vain and foolish thoughts, begone thou drowsy feel Fill me, my God ! with faith and love, with hope and fervonl zeal. love to hear my pastor's voice, the sound is very dear, I hail it as the voice of GA, and feel that Christ is near, A dying Saviour is his theme, ‘• the risen Lord" his song, And every new-born babe in Christ, the music shall prolong, I lore to hear my pastor's voice, through him, as from above, A Saviour speaketh words of peace, of never dying love : 0, Lord of Lite ! to thee I cling, thou art my only stay, And ne'er I trust shall Satan draw my heart from thee away. I love to hear my pastor's voice, proclaiming Israel's rest, "Though scatter'd and benighted now, that nation shall be bless'd." This Truth divine, his spirit loves, my soul caught up the strain, And longs to see those outcast tribes restor'd to God again. I love to hear my pastor's voice the gospel trumpet sound, For till those words of peace I heard. my heart was error bound • I love to hear the Truth from him, glad tidings doth he bring, Glad tidings of great joy from thee our Prophet, Priest, and King. Roseommon-street E.M he following beautiful and affecting lines, by COWPER, the bard of freedom, morality, and reigioa, have not been generally printed in the edition of his works. They derived an increased interest from the fact, considered to be authentic, that they were written after one of those attacks that temporarily be reft him of reason, and with allusion to a similar and final catastrophe that might befal him.—ZED. L. S.] THE CASTAWAY. Obscurest night involved the sky; The Atlantic billows roar'd; When such a destined wretch as I, Wasted headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left. No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went, Nor ever ship left Albiou's coast With warmer wishes sent; He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away ; But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life. He shouted : nor his friends had fail'd To check the vcssel's course, But so furious the blast prevail'd That, pitiless per force, They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind. Some succour yet they could afford, And such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow; But he, they knew, nor ship, nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to the Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives who lives an hour In ocean, self. upheld, And so long he, with unspent power, His destiny repell'd And ever, as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried—" Adieu I" At length, his transient respite past, His comrades, who before Had heard his IN ice in every blast, Could catch the sound no more; For then by toil subdued, he drank The stilling wave, and then he sank. CARDINAL DE RETZ, OR THE COURTIER'S PLOT. BY PETER POPJOY, EST (For the Liverpool Standard. CHAPTER XIV. The dwelling of the Coadjutor. A very curious and unlooked-for position. The reader, if fond of love-makings, will doubtless relish this chapter amazingly. The story might end here—but it don't. THE cloister of Notre Dame was then, as to-day, an as semblage of buildings disposed round many courts which originally had served for the habitation of the monks and clergy attached to the cathedral church. The principal dwellings formed that which was termed the " Petit Archeveque," and was set aside especially for the use of the coadjutors of the archbishops of Paris. In ordinary times nothing could be more calm and silent than this vast locality, frequented only by the quiet and staid dignitaries of the church; but at the epoch of which we write it ap peared more lik e th e s t rong h o ld of some warlike chieftain than the calm and peaceful home of astudious ecclesiastic. Here it was that the numerous escort of Paul de Gondi resided —his men-at-arms and attendants to parliament by day. Sentinels paraded in front of the entrance and round the building at night ; in fact, every care was taken to prevent surprise, and a vigorous opposition could have at any time been maintained against all beseigers. In case of any disturbance, the Coadjutor could have put, the towers of Notre. Dame in a state of defence, so that the old metropolitan church of France supplied the place of a citadel to the lion-hearted leader of La Fronde. In spite of all seeming difficulties in penetrating the interior of this well-guarded place, the coach in which our friends were seated, met with no stop or hindrance until it had reached the door of a guard-room at which a gentleman at-arms stood to reconnoitre the uric al. The driver mut tered a few words, and was ordered to pass on. In do ing so the scholar enquired if the Coadjutor bad returned. " But just now," replied the officer; " and he must he mad thus to expose himself nightly without an escort. As for you, Master Student. I am desired to tell you that he awaits your comitlg in the library. Good night." So saying, he re-entered a sort of apartment which served as a reception for the guard. The coach rumbled heavily through a dark court, and stopped opposite a flight of stone steps. The travellers desended, and guided by Vireton, to whom the intricacies of the mansion seemed perfectly familiar, they arrived at a spacious antecham ber, where a tired lacquey slept profoundly on a bench. " Wait for me here," said the Scholar, in a whisper. " I will see his lordship, and acquaint him with the pre sence of this young lady, and explain to him how it has arisen ; believe me, I will not fail to interest him in your behalf." " We have no hope but in the powerful protection of Monsieur le Coadjutor," murmured the Countess, sinking on a seat. Eustache addressed a word of kindness to the lovers, and left them smilingly. The next minute he disappeared without awaking the valet, who slept on unconscious of the presence of others. The Coadjutor was alone in his study, seated before a secretaire, the desk of which was covered with a mass of letters and papers; he was perusing, by the light of a huge silver lamp, the notes which served him at a future pe riod, in the compilation of his memoirs, and which he took great pains every night to arrange and put in order. Not withstanding the whole day and part of the night had been spent in activity, he exhibited that unceasing energy of mind and body for which he was so celebrated, and he did not seem to be in the least fa'igued. When Eustache entered he received him with that free kindly manner which he always shewed to those he esteemed and encou raged. The frank gaiety of the Coadjutor was a proof of his tranquillity of mind, and the nobleness of his spirit. " So here you are, worthy lieutenant," exclaimed De Gondi, casting his pen upon the table, and turning his arm chair towards the Scholar. "It seems then we have succeeded to the very limit of our wishes. Ha, ha, ha ! I cannot help laughing when I think of that poor devil, De Croissi ; what a figure he made when be found his prisoner had been whisked off almost in the very sight of the Queen. Faith, it was a bold stroke—ha, ha !--and all the glory is your own, brave Scholar. You have rare qualities for an intrigue." " And is my lord then satisfied with my poor services?" inquired the pleased Scholar, rubbing his hands ; " it must be confessed that my lord has added not a little to the success of the affair. Discite justitiam mania." " You flatter me, Sir Scholar," said the Coadjutor, with an assumption of modesty. " The plan is thine, and thou hast alone almost executed it. But where is our man ? Have you not brought him with you ?" Eustache smiled. " Why do you smile ?" " I have, my lord ; he is in the antechamber—but—" " But what ? why not bring him in ?" " Because, my lord, the scheme has been more suc cessful than perhaps you expected, or perhaps will have wished. I have delivered two prisoners instead of one." " Two ! what is this you tell me ?" " The truth is—almost at the moment we were about to depart from the palace, a charming young lady, in a. state of despair—in tears, my lord—came and threw her self in the arms of Mons. Fabien de Croissi. We could not leave the palace without her ; so we—" The Coadjutor's face wrinkled up. " This is news, indeed ; and do you know this young maiden, so fair and in such distress ?" " I have not seen her face yet •, it has been too dark to see any thing; but who can she be but the Countess de Montglat ?—one of the Queen's maids of honour." " Why what—in the name of—have you been thinking of, Eustache Vireton," exclaimed the Coadjutor, in an ger; " a fine crowning of your handy work you have made indeed, by bringing a petticoat into the cloisters of Notre Dkme." ,empt to excuse either "My lord," replied the Scholar, timidly, " she would those of--of her daughter ; and if I confess to you my not leave Mons. de Croissi, an d—he would not leave her; thoughts, 1 have often pitied you to find you placed at so I—l relied on your usual kindness of heart t o —" the mercy of Madame de Chevreuse. " " A pest upon you and your suppositions," cried Gondi, " Alas !my lord, it is but too true. She asserted over pacing the chamber rapidly to and fro. " You have done me a strange domination, at which I have often blushed. well, Master Eustacbe ; and yet you have put me in a For fear that I should find an escape from her tyranny, most asvliv - ard predicament. To joggle the young gentle- she watched my simplest actions. My affection for man out of the hands of his stupid brother was nothine hut a happy piece of pleasantry, and will one day put the Queen into a rare good humour, when I tell her the truth of the adventure—ha, ha ! but to carry off boldly and daringly a maid of honour who has committed a grave of fence against the state, faith this is something more than a jest. The Queen will be furious when she knows of De Montg!at's disappearance; and should she find out that we have played her this trick just at the moment she is about to make me cardinal —" " Cardinal repeated Vireton, opening widely his eyes. " Yes, cardinal," continued the Coadjutor ; " this evening, afte.• a secret conference, she sent off my nomi nation in proper form. Judge now, Master Scholar, if this is a moment to embroil me with her highness. How do you think I can conceal this girl in a house full of sol eiers. They will not fail to discover her, and that quickly, and what will become of my good name should this kid napping story and her concealment here, reach the ears of the Queen, and—of—of certain other ladies; eh ! Master Scholar." • He stopped and bit his lips. " Come," continued he ; " we must not think any lon ger, we must act ; we must send these young folks away. Suppose we put them into a coach, and let them go where they like ; or send the young lady off, and keep the young man ; but perhaps he will not be separated from his pretty countess : let them both go--I wont see them." " But I pray your pardon, my lord ; where can they go at this time of night? They are both strangers in Pa ris, and they cannot find even shelter, much less a home. Besides they are sure to be discovered ; and think of the pitiable fate in reserve for them." " What do I care ; I have done quite enough for this young fellow ; and it is no fault of mine if he is always in a serape. I have saved him twice from the hands of the Philistines; he must now help himself. After all, I have no interest whatever in him, and it matters not to me whether he goes to prison or he does not go ; I only wanted to spoil that enterprise against M. le Conde. It has failed ; the rest I don't care a straw for. As for this bella contessa, I confess that I pity her ; when sbe wept before the Queen she certainly looked very beautiful. I did not doubt that I should have obtained her pardon ; but this is no reason why I should get into a quarrel with her Majesty. Let her go to the Carmelites, if she likes ; it is no affair of mine." " But my lord." " Go to the devil," exclaimed the Coadjutor, pacing up and down in a perfect pet, the cardinal's hat now floating, now vanishing, before his eyes. " But my lord ; in the name of good manners and— and morality." " What is that you say ?" asked the Coadjutor, sud denly stopping, and turning sharply round. Paul de Gondi had a great horror of scandal, notwith standing his own somewhat lax morals ; without doubt • the Scholar knew this well. " In truth, my lord," replied the Scholar, with a hypo critical accent, " that it will be only an act of Christian charity not to abandon thus these young people. Think what will become of them if no one exercises over them a paternal authority ; they may perhaps become a shame to their relations ; —they are in the springtime of youth, my lord, and—" " True, true," interrupted Paul de Gcndi, with a thoughtful air ; " but what have I do with that ?" De Gondi again paced the chamber. " Why should I, Master Vireton, create new difficul ties at this moment ? I will not—l cannot." " Well, but my lord ; consent only to see them but a moment." " For what purpose ?" " For—f Jr—why just to give them a little advice ; and --tell them of the scandal that may arise by their pecu liar position and—and" The Coadjutor burst into a loud laugh. " You are the devil himself in diplomatising, Eustache ; you can always find reasons," said he, throwing himself into his arm-chair. " Well, let them come in. We will see what will be the best way to proceed when we have spoken to them." Paul de Gondi inwardly chuckled. He could not for bear smiling at the recollection of Fabien's escape, and the present peculiar position of the two youngpeople about to appear before him. Vireton ran out of the chamber, and the next moment returned with his protegtis. They entered with slow steps, and made the prelate a silent salutation. Elizabeth vsibly trembled as she leant upon Fabien's arm; the emotions and sorrows of the dey had spread upon her beautiful countenance a most touch ing air of melancholy. She wept no more ; but the sad ness of her looks was more lovely than the brightest smile of joy. The depression of Fabien was more manly ; he appeared not to feel his own situation, but to expe rience only anxiety for the confiding girl who had thus so strangely and unexpectedly been cast upon his pro tection, and whose sole help he knew himself to be. His countenance was firm, and the violent passions which had but just now so highly excited him had left on his features but faint traces. His eyes followed attentively every gesture of his young companion ; for her he suffered—for her sake he implored pity. Seeing them thus sustaining each other, the Coadjutor, in spite of himself, could not but feel moved ; he was not ignorant of the fatality which accompanied this young, noble, and handsome couple, that intrigue and ambition had dragged from solitude, to bruise and destroy. In the presence of Elizabeth he could not feel angry ; he rose from his seat, and offered his hand to conduct her to a chair near him, with the ut most grace and politeness. " Sit down, my child," said he, in his blandest tone of voice ; " sit down, and recover yourself; and you, gallant sir, be seated. God, who holds in his hands the hearts of kings, will not abandon you if you put your trust in him." This religious consolation, which may appear strange from the lips of Paul tie Gondi, was neither the effect of abstraction nor hypocrisy; in the midst of his pleasures 1 and his gallant, ies, the Coadjutor had preserved for reli gion a profound respect and sincere faith. Late in life he gave ample proof of this, when his political career was past, for he became a model for fervent and devout Christians. Elizabeth answered only by an inclination of the head ; but Fabien, with whom the kindness of the Coadjutor had given courage, said, in a tone of the profoundest respect, " The measure of your goodness is overflowing to wards me, my lord. The d a y b e f ore y es t er d ay you saved my ife, in rescuing me from the hands of the en raged populace ; yesterday you snatched me from the terrible anger of the Queen ; nevertheless I yet dare to implore your powerful interference in succouring this lady, so unhappily for herself linked with my misfor tunes." " No, no, my lord," cried Elizabeth, clasping her hands ; " if your generosity should he exercised upon either of us, let it be upon my companion, who, loyal and brave, has resisted, in the very presence of the most powerful persons in the kingdom, the temptations of riches and honour, held out to him as rewards for crime. He it is, my lord, who has a claim upon your generosity —not I-1, who ought to bear with resigna tion my ingratitude towards my royal mistress." The Coadjutor placed his hand to his brow with an air of reflection. " Truly, my dear lady, I should be glad to be of service to both of you, for your affliction and situation greatly interest me, and you are evidently the innocent victims of those political influences to which I have given perhaps too much of my titre and thoughts. Unhappily I am placed in so difficult a position, that I cannot follow the bent of my own inclinations, which would lead me to serve you. I cannot tell you upon what point, but there is imminent danger to me in al lowing you to remain in the cloisters." Elizabeth quickly arose. "My lord," she asked with firmness, " is not my presence the sole cause of your embarrassment ? and if I were to leave these walls, would it not be possible for you to give Fabien an asy lum P " " Mademoiselle, I avow frankly----" " Well, then, my lord, will you allow me the use of your coach, that has just brought us here P I will go back to the palace, which indeed I ought not to have quitted." " What would you, Elizabeth ? " exclaimed Fabien. " Do you not reflect, that if you to-night return to the palace, you will he turned from it with shame to-mor row ? Have you forgotten that the doors of a convent will close upon you, and separate you for ever from the world and me ? " " Lady," said the Coadjutor, " it is cruel perhaps to reproach you in your misfortunes ; nevertheless I must point out to you the imprudence which you have com mitted in thus quitting the palace stealthily and at night with a young and gallant cavalier. This action, notwithstanding the peculiar circumstances under which you have been placed may appear somewhat to excuse you, is not the less blameable in itself; and you see that God punishes you by deep regrets." " Oh ! will you but hear me, my lord ? " cried Eli zabeth warmly. " The frightful position in which I found myself was surely a sufficient excuse. No one knows what Fabien has suffered through me, and for my sake : no one can tell what hitter reproaches he ought to heap upon me this day. Before the ambition of my good aunt condemned me to endure the pomp and splen dour of the court, I loved Fabien with a pure affection, and Fabien returned my love. Our attachment was superior to the vicissitudes of position and fortune, and we were betrothed in the eye of Heaven. Nevertheless I parted from him, in obedience to the higher duty I owed my kind relation, and soon I appeared to forget him. He tho u ght me unkind ; but I had not forgotten him. He doubtless accused me of ingratitude. Oh ! did he but know what I suffered, when th , a , t proud wo man whom I thought my be ne factress — She stopped, as if recollecting the alleged close ac quaintance of the Coadjutor with Madame de Chevreuse. " Go on, go on, my child," said the Coadjutor, smi ling. "It is true Madame de Chevreuse is my friend, but I will not att , -- - le her faults or THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. Fabien gave her great offence. She forbade me writing to Normandy. The day I ventured to transgress that order, she showed me my letter intercepted." " Poor Elizabeth ! " exclaimed Fabien ; " and I to have accused you of unkindness ! " " This was not all," continued the maid of honour " Fabien mentally suffered through me, but he lived in tranquillity and peace in his country home. The bril liant wor'd which would have converted the affianced ma d into an ingrate, would have made the man she loved a murderer. Designs the most artful—false hoods the most cunningly concocted—were originated; and I—l it was, who drew the one dearest to my heart into the snare. My name was used to induce - him to commit a horrid crime, but which, thank Heaven, he has scrrned as I felt he would do. lit is who will have condemned him to captivity, should he be discovered. Oh ! my lord, reflect but one moment. This nig,ht, see ing him pursued—despairing—a fugitive—could I have abandoned him, when all the evils heaped upon him are of my creation P Do not think that in quitting the pa lace I did so from a wish to elude the deserved punish ment the Queen has awarded me; but Fabien told me that my presence alone would give him strength to sup. port life. I have followed him to aid, to console him." A silence of some minutes followed Elizabeth's touch ing address. • " I believe you to be sincere, my child, replied Paul de Gondi, with a thoughtful air; " and if the step you have taken is blameable in itself, it is possible the mo tives may be praiseworthy. But, however moved I may appear to be by your affliction, I still fail to perceive means to assist you." " I will go, my lord," said Elizabeth resignedly ; will return to the palace." " Then I will go with you," exclaimed Fabien with determination. The Coadjutor rose, and paced up and down the li brary for a moment. He suddenly stopped. " Come what will, I will protect you. We must endeavour to deceive ra u r enemies. will see what can be done. Remain here, my dear children ; and I pledge you my word that I will defend you against the world. Paul de Gondi does not promise in vain." " Oh, my lord ! what kindness is this ? " " Stop," said the Coadjutor, with a sly air, as if a sudden thought had but just flashed across his brain ; " I shall attach certain conditions to my services." "Oh name them, my lord," exclaimed Elizabeth and Fabien. " The first is, that to-morrow I must marry you in my private chapel. I must take this precaution for cer tain reasons—of a personal nature. As neither of you have relations who can claim any right to dispose of you, the affair can be effected with ou t diffi cu l ty ." Fabien gazed fondly upon the young Countess, who hung down her lovely head, her face suffused with the deepest blushes. Paul de Gondi smiled. " Fabien," murmured Elizabeth, " am not I already your affianced wife ? " " The second condition is, that you will undertake to obey me without remonstrance. The young couple fervently promised absolute obedi ence. " Well, then, as a commencement," continued the Coadjutor, " I must tell you that you must consider yourselves as.prisoners within these walls. Outside num berless dangers surround you. Moreover, as crowds of persons every day pass through the Cloister, and as amongst the multitude some may recognise you, you must remain closely concealed within the apartments allotted to you. Without you will undertake to do this, I cannot answer for your safety." " My lord, we will implicitly obey you." " You will find, my dear young friends, that my hos pitality will prove neither agreeable nor splendid ; but," added he jokingly, " you will, I dare say, think it better than what you would have met with in the Bastile or amongst the Carmelites. Mademoiselle, for this night I must place you under th e c h arge o f my old housekeeper, Dame Germaine; and she will no doubt administer to your comfort as much as our limited accommodations for ladies will admit. For you, M. Fabien, Ma ster Scholar h ere w ill see you wellbestowed. Adieu to-morrow ! " The Coadjutor gracefully waved his hand, and bid ding his protegees good night, Fabien and Elizabeth immediately retired, attended by the domestic who had been summoned by the Scholar, and to whom instruc tions had been given. Paul de Gondi and the Scholar were again alone. The Coadjutor rested his elbow on his desk, and appeared buried in thought, and quite unconscious that the Scholar was gazing on his countenance with much curiosity. A movement made by him attracted De Gondi's attention, and dissipated the train of reflection in which he had indulged. • " Ah ! my trusty lieutenant," said he, smiling, " are you still here Well, what would you P" " I only wish to know if I have not worthily served you, my lord P" " Right well, and you richly deserve reward ; and I will fulfil my promise ; but.before I bestow on you the gift I named as a recompense for your zeal, I have yet occa sion for your services for some short time. You are ad venturous, skilful, full of expedients, and I believe honest ; you can yet be useful to me. Remain with me, and you shall lose nothing by it, believe me, good Eustache." " My dear lord," replied the Scholar, delighted to show his zeal in his patron's service ; " I would rather remain near you than enjoy the richest benefice in your gift ; and if it is your wish we will together endeavour to assist our young friends, and crown them with happiness." " With happiness, good Scholar," repeated Gondi, with a sigh • " then you think that they may yet be happy now that the first danger is past." " I do indeed, my lord; the young man is brave, frank, and honest ; the lady is fair, gentle, and lowing." "Ah ! she is fair, and as you say, loving," added the Coadjutor, with something like a sigh. " My lord, such a remark and such a sigh would become better a gay young gallant than a grave and sage cardi nal." " True, trusty Scholar ; but 1 possess a heart the least ecclesiastical in all the world ; but since it has fallen to my lot to wear the sacerdotal robe—black, violet, or red— what does it matter ? hut now away, you require some rest." " And you, my lord." The statesman made Eustache a sign of farewell, and again commenced the perusal and arrangement of those profound political calculations which occupied all his thoughts. How easily might we here conclude our narration. A few dashes of the willing pen would tell how the lovers were married, how the Queen forgave, and how all the dramatis personas met in ith their deserts ; but we must still continue the vein of history, and trace it out. The events of one day have yet to be told—a day replete with excitement, opening with the assembling of armed men, amidst the ringing tones of trumpets, and closing with a deed of blood. (To be continued.) NOTICES. The Farmer's Magazine. VARIETIES. JUDICIAL ADVICE TO MEDICAL PRACTITIONERS.— In the course of a case which was tried at the Old Bailey a few days since, a medical witness, in giving his evidence, used the word " tumefaction," upon which Mr. Justice Coleridge said, " I suppo s e by tumefaction' you m e an swelling." Witness: "Yes, my lord." Mr. Justice Coleridge : " Then it would be much better to use plain English than to speak in a sort of mongrel Latin." WILL FORGERIES.—Some years ago an attorney of the name of Hyte lived in the west of England. Barn staple we believe, who far exceeded the present forgers in adroitness and wickedness. On one occasion he was re quested by a married man to make a will in favour of his brother, at which his wife complained to Byte, who told her he would make all right for het, and trust her liber ality. He prepared two wills—one in favour of the bro ther, and another bequeathing the property to his wife. The first was read over to the dying man : but before it was signed by the testator and witnesses, be rang the the changes, so that the widow became the sole object of his bounty. The brother suspected foul play and fraud, bat could not prove it. Byte afterwards obtained large sums from the widow, whom he kept in constant dread of an exposure, which, however, did not take place until she, on her death-bed, confessed the whole, declaring that she had never enjoyed an hour's peace since the foul transac tion. The last, among many acts of forgery which this villian committed, was that of the will of a person at Exeter. A gentleman, possessed of large property, was likely to die, and Hyte inquired of the wife whether he had made a will in her favour? She replied, " She was fearful he had made no will." He said he would prepare one, and trust to her generosity. He called the next day, and was told it was too late, for the man had just ex pired. He said he had brought a witness with him, and would manage it. They went to the bed-side and read the will to the corpse, and having done so, he caught a live fly, which he put into the mouth of the dead man, and took his hand and guided it to sign the document, and the witness declared that he had heard the will read to the deceased. who signed it while life was in him (allud ing to the live fly). The validity of the will, which was so much at variance with the expressed sentiments of the testator in the latter period of life, was disputed, but no positive proof was manifest of the nefarious transaction, until at length, partly by threats, and more particularly from the accusation of conscience, the widow and sub scribing or attesting witness made a full confessicn, and being admitted as witnesses for the crown, the scoundrel Hyte was convicted and executed in the year 1797. HAYNES BAYLY'S " I'D BE A BUTTERFLY."—A large party was staying at Lord Ashtown's; and the day before it broke up, the ladies, on leaving the dining-table, men tioned their intention of taking a stroll through his beau tiful grounds; and the gentlemen promised to follow them in ten minutes. Lured by Bacchus, they forgot their promise to the Graces, and Mr. Haynes Bayly was the only one who thought fit to move, and he in about half an hour wandered forth in search of the ladies. They beheld him at a distance ; but, pretending annoyance at his not joining them sooner, they fled away in an opposite direction. The poet, wishing to carry on the joke, did not seek to overtake them ; they observed this, and lin gered, hoping to attract his attention. He saw this ma noeuvre, and determined to turn the tables upon them. He waved his hand carelessly, and pursued his ramble alone ; then falling into a reverie, he entered a beautiful summer-house, known by the name of Butterfly Bower, overlooking the water, and there seated himself. Here, inspired by a butterfly which had jnst flitted before him, he wrote the well-known ballad now alluded to. He then returned to the house, and found the ladies assembled round the tea-table; when they smilingly told him they had enjoyed their walk in the shrubberies excessively, and that they needed no escort. He was now determined to go beyond them in praise of his solitary evening w Ik, and said that he had never enjoyed himself so much in his life; that he had met a butterfly, with whom he had wandered in the regions of fancy, which had afforded him much more pleasure than he would have found in chasing them ; and that he had put his thoughts in verse. The ladies immediately gave up all further contention with the wit, upon his promising to show them the lines he had just written. He then produced his tablets, and read the well-known ballad, " I'd be a btitterfly, born in a bower," to the great delight of his fair auditors. It should per haps be here remarked, that the poet foretold his own doom in this ballad ; for it will be seen, by his early death, that his nerves were too finely strung to bear the unfore seen storms of severe disappointment which gathered round him in after years. On the same evening, he com posed the air, to which Mrs. Haynes Bayly put the ac companiments and symphonies; and it was sung the fol lowing evening to a very large party assembled at Lord Ashtown's, who encored it again and again.—Bayly's Songs and Ballads. ANECDOTES OF EDWARD COLSTON.-At the age of 40 years he became a very eminent East India merchant, prior to the incorporation of the East India Company, and had 40 sail of ships of his own, with immense riches flowing upon him. He still remained uniform in his charitable disposition, distributing many thousand pounds to various charities in and about London, besides private gifts in many parts of the kingdom. In the year 1708 he instituted a very magnificent school in St. Augustine's back, in Bristol„ which cost him £ll,OOO in the building, and endowed the same with between £1,700, and £l,BOO per annum for ever. He likewise gave £lO for appren ticing every boy, and for 12 years after his death £lO to put them into business. It has been frequently reported that his private charities far exceeded those in public. I have heard that one of his ships trading to the East Indies had been missing upwards of three years, and was sup posed to be destroyed at sea, but at length she arrived, richly laden. When his principal clerk brought him the report of her arrival, and of the riches on board, he said, as she was totally given up for lost, he would by no means claim any right to her ; therefore he ordered the ship and merchandise to be sold, and the produce thereof to be applied towards the relief of the needy, which directions were immediately carried into execution. Another sin gular instance of his tender consciousness for charity was at the age of 40, when he entertained some thoughts of changing his condition. He paid his addresses to a lady ; but being very timorous lest he should be hindered in his pious and charitable designs, he was determined to make a christian trial of her temper and disposition, and there fore one morning filled his pockets furl of gold and silver, in order that if any object presented itself in the course of their tour over London Bridge, be might satisfy his inten tions. While they were walking near St. Magnus Church, a woman in extreme misery, with twins in her lap, sat begging; and, as he and his intended lady were arm-in arm, he beheld the wretched object, put his hand in his pocket, and took out a handful of gold and silver, casting it into the poor woman's lap. The lady being greatly alarmed at such profuse generosity, coloured prodigiously ; so that wh en th ey were gone a li tt l e f urther towards the bridge-foot, she turned to him and said, " Sir, do you! know what you did a few minutes ago ? " " Madam,' replied Mr. Colston, " I never let my right hand know what my left hand doeth." He then took his leave of her, and for this reason never married to the day of his death, dthough he lived to the age of 85.—Bristol Journal. London : Joseph Rogerson, NOrfolk-street, Strand. The number of this magazine for the present month is more than usually full of information, which must be in valuable to the agriculturists. In addition to the letter press it contains a beautifully executed engraving of Chas. Coiling, Esq., the cerebrated breeder of short-horns, and a vignette engraving of a short-horned heifer to which a first prize was awarded at the agricultural show at York, in 1842. Accompanying the former we have a short me moir of Mr. Coiling, by C. W. Johnston, Esq., F.R.S., from which the following extracts may be of interest to our agricultural readers : ORIGIN OF THE SHORT-HORNED BREED.—The cha racter of Charles Coiling was evidently cool, calm, saga cious, and energetic. His neighbours and rival breeders, who watched his progress with all the anxiety that his unexampled success so naturally excited, could never di vine the objects he had in view, or the principles on which he acted. These traits in his character have been inci dentally noticed by Professor Youatt, in his excellent work on cattle, when tracing the history of the Teeswate r Short Horns; and what he has so well described we will not attempt to give in other language. "Whatever," says Mr. Youatt, "had been the merits of the Teeswater cattle, it is certain that Mr. Coiling greatly improved them, and although it has been often asserted that his success was the result of chance, arising from the posses sion of an animal with the merits of which, it is supposed, he was at one time unacquainted, yet the writer of this article is of opinion that Mr. Colling's success resulted from a deliberate and well considered plan. Coiling found the Teeswater, like all other extravagantly large cattle, very frequently of loose make and disproportion. He was sensible, also, of the difficulty of breeding with anything like certainty large good animals ; and though he had on all occasions declined to throw any light on his views and proceedings, still the writer thinks he can detect, in the very outset, and through the progress of his practice, a resolution to reduce the size of this breed, and at the same time, by that means, to improve its form. This he is sup posed to have effected in the first instance through the medium of a bull called " Hubback," an animal respect ing which there has been much controversy, principally touching the purity of his blood, a question now of little importance, because it is admitted on all hands that Mr. Coiling adopted another cross which prevails in a majority of superior short horns of the present day. " lIIIRDACK," THE SIRE OF THE SHORT -HORNED B REED. — Without entering on an inquiry as to the cir cumstances by which " Hubback's" title to be considered of pure blood is supported or weakened, it may suffice to observe, that it appears probable that he possessed on one side the improved blood. The possessor of his dam was a person in indigent circumstances, and grazed his cow on the highways ; when afterwards she was removed to good land, near Darlington, she became so fat that she did not again breed, and her son having the same propen sity in a high degree, was useful as a bull but during a very short period. Th e qua li ty o f hi s fl es h, hide, a n d hair, are supposed to have been seldom equalled ; and as he was much smaller than the Teeswater cattle, he was eminently calculated to forward Mr. Colling's views. It has been remarked that we have at present no supe rior horses on the turf, which does not boast the blood of the Godolphin Arabian; so it may be asserted that we have no superior short-horns which do not claim descent nearly, or remotely, from Hubback. This account of " Hubback" diffens in some particulars from one that has reached us from another quarter. Ac cording to the latter, the animal narrowly escaped being cut off while a calf, being actually on its way, in a cart, to :he butcher, when it was observed by a blacksmith resid ing at a place called Harrowgate, on the high road to Darlington. Being struck by its appearance he bought it for his son-in-law, by whom it was reared, until pur chased by Mr. R. Coiling and Mr. IN'aistell, as already mentioned. Previously to buying it Mr. R. Coiling asked his brother, Mr. C. Coiling, to look at the animal, and upon the latter giving a most favourable report of its merits, the bargain was effected. As before stated, the initnal was shortly afterwards transferred to Mr. C. Coi ling for its original price of £B, who was highly delighted at his acquisition ; and on its arrival at Ketton he asked his wife to go out and look at the handsomest little bull she ever saw in her lite. After obtaining this bull, Mr. Charles Coiling proceeded with singular success to produce, from time to time, su perior animals ; and the number of bulls he disposed of by letter was highly encouraging. But the circumstance which brought the improved short-horns into most exten sive notice was the production of the "Durham Ox," an animal which speaks volumes in favour of even a single cross of.his blood; for the ox was the produce of a com mon cow, which had been put to " Favourite." At five years old, the Durham ox was sold to Mr. Bulmer, of Harmby, near Bedale, for public exhibition, at the price of £140: this was in February, 1801. He was at that time computed to weigh 168 stones, of 141 b., his live weight being 216 stones; and this extraordinary weight did. not arise from his superior size, but from the exces sive ripeness of his points. Mr. Bulmer having obtained a carriage for his conveyance, travelled with him five weeks, and then sold him and the carriage, at Rotherham, to Mr. John Day, on the 14th May, 1801, for £250. On the 14th May, Mr. Day could have sold him for £525; Qn the iSth of June for £lOOO ; On the Bth of July for £2OOO. EFFECT or CROSSING BREEDS.—It is a well ascer tained fact, that, during his career as a breeder, Mr. Col ling tried several exferiments in crossing, and resorted to breeds which were, on these occasions, very considerably smaller than the short horns, a circumstance which tends to corroborate the writer's opinion that he considered it desirable to reduce their size. The cross with the Kyloe led to no results worthy enumeration, but that with the polled Galloway must not be passed over without com ment. Before- stating the circumstances attending this experiment, it may be proper to observe that no breed of cattle promised so successful a cross with the short-horns as the Galloway. They were calculated,' by their deep massive frames anti short legs, to bring the short-horns nearer the ground, and to dispose of their weight in a more compact manner: their hardy habits would be essentially useful, and the quality of their flesh and hair was such as to render the experiment still more safe. Add to this, that they could he obtained of a red colour, and we are prepared to admit, even without the sanction of a success ful experiment, that they were admirably adapted to cross with the short-horn, standing frequently too high from the ground, not very well ribbed home, and not seldom of loose, disjointed frame. To this breed Mr. Coiling re solved to resort; and though at the time when he did so, the attempt was regarded with some degree of ridicule by the pure. blood advocates, and comments were made which would have deterred ordinary men from the exercise of their judgment, Mr. Coiling persisted. He was much favoured by circumstances in promoting this object, which was to take one cross, and then breed back to the short horn,—the only course, by the way, in which crossing can be successfully adopted. To breed from the produce of a cross directly among themselves will lead to results which have induced many persons, without due consideration, to believe conclusive against crossing ; but to take one a single cross, and then to return and adhere to one breed, will, in the course of a few generations, be found to stamp a variety with sufficient certainty. GENERAL MISCELLANY. John Gladstone, Esq. has subscribed £5O towards the monument of Sir Walter Scott. The Duke of Cambridge completed his seventieth year on Saturday. Mr. Geo. Thompson, of slave and corn-law notoriety, arrived from India by the Oriental last week. M'Culloch states, that the value of the manure alone, annually pot on the soil of this country, is more tha❑ all our foreign trade put together. A meeting was held of the Anti-Corn-Law League on Wednesday, at Covent-Garden. The principal speaker was O'Connell. The great fountain now in progress at Chatsworth, is expected to play to a height of upwards of two hundred feet. Her Majesty has been pleased to commute the sentence passed at the late Special Assizes for Chester, upon John Shaw, for a rape at Congleton, f rom t ransportat i on to im prisonment. WASTE months WASTE LANDS.—The largest quantity of waste land in any county in England is in the North Riding of York shire, there being no less than 132,815 acres of common or waste land out of 1,897,592. The leading congregationalists of London are now aim ing to augment the sum which it was proposed to raise for day schools in their community from 100,0001. to 250,0001. and the number of schools to not less than five hun. dred. Her Majesty, with the most gracious kindness and consideration, has granted an apartment in Hampton Court Palace to the Misses Pottinger, sisters of Sir Henry Pottinger, Bart., end also to the orphan family of Sir Lionel Smith, Bart., and Lady Smith. A silver cup is to be run for by pedestrians on the first day of Durham races, on the course, leaping over hurdles three feet six inches high. A subscription has already been entered into for that purpose. The race is to be con fined to competitors of the north. SHOCKING CASE.—A boy, named Phillips, was lately stabbed by his schoolfellow, at Cardiff. He is still alive, but in a most dangerous state. No hopes are entertained of his recovery. The boy who stabbed him is in custody. —Monmouth Merlin. SURVEY OF HOLYHEAD.—The Lucifer steam vessel, at man W d r e o , ?lw Fr ic a h, zer.waosf tchoememoiszieotn,ewdhoonwritonpdroacyeefdorinCohmer to finish the survey of Holyhead and the Welsh coast.— Freeman's Journal. FATAL ACC IDENTS.—A singular fatality has occurred within the last fortnight in Montgomeryshire, no fewer than four children, all females, having been burned to death by their clothes accidentally taking fire ; besides two awful instances of sudden death, one a boy and one a girl, who were found dead in bed. FATA.L ACCIDENT.--A poor man, of the name of Charnock, was accidentally killed. by falling into the coal pit of Mr. Samuel Stock, near Billinge, on Friday last. The unfortunate man was employed to keep watch at night, and it is supposed his sight was dazzled by the fires on the brow, and he walked into the shaft. The banks of the metropolis are again making a move ment for an abridgement of business hours, and with every probability of the alteration being carried out. The mer chants' clerks also e‘pect some relief whenever the ar rangement is completed, being, as a body, more hardly worked than the bank assistants.—Globe. LONGEVITY AND PEDESTRIANISM.--On Saturday Mr. William Eaton, travelling packman, died at Brachin, Forfarshire, at the age of 95. He had travelled with the pack 74 years, and walked on an average 15 miles a day, exclusive of Sundays, amounting to 347,430 miles, nearly 14 times the circumference of the globe.—Scotch Paper. IMMENSE PORPOISE FOUND AT SALT MARSH.—On Monday last, two young men, of the name of Roberts, were surprised at finding, on the Marsh, a large porpoise, which had been !eft by the tide. It was conveyed to Woodbank, and found to measure 8 feet 7 inches in length, 4 feet 4 inches in circumference, and supposed to weigh upwards of 5001bs.—Chester Chronicle. RUNCORN.—On Wednesday last, Job Millington, late asistant to Mr. William Harding, deputy-constable of Runcorn. was brought before the magistrates, at War rfngton, for having embezzled several sums of money, while employed in collecting rates for Mr. Harding. The prisoner was committed to take his trial at the next quarter sessions, to be holden at Knutsford. THE DONC ASTER CORPORATION.—This body of sa pient Whigs have parted with the fee-simple of the tolls on the River Don for £l,OOO and the fortunate purchaser has leased them at a rental of £6OO a year —a very nice investment. What will the burgesses of this ancient town think of the job which their Solons have perpetrated ? Yorkshire Gazette. A few days previous to the commencement of the late severe weather, a labourer employed in Mr. Knight's quarry, situate at Lady Lea, near Worksop, discovered amongst a quantity of stone and rubbish, which he was removing, a bird's nest, containing three young ones, all of them alive and apparently doing well.—Doncaster Gazette. MURDERS BY A YOUNG CHILD.—A girl, only twelve years old, named Mary Ann Johnson, has been committed to Lincoln Gaol, charged with the murder of William and Daniel Farr, her half-brothers, aged eight and five years, by poisoning them with arsenic. at Benington, which she had bought at the shop of Mr. Overton, of Boston. It is said that the prisoner has made a confession implicating other persons. THE IVIINT.—This establishment sustained a loss by its purchase of old worn silver coin from the Bank of Eng land during the past ye ar of X 9,48.3. The sum issued out of the consolidated fund for the purchase of silver and copper bullion for coinage amounted during the past year to £350,000. The silver coin delivered into the Mint office during the same period amounted to £276,606, and the copper coin to £10,985. A SECOND DANIEL LAMBERT.—On Sunday was bu ried at St. Bride's, Fleet-street, Charles Cole, a well known character, aged 42, who was found by his wife lying dead by her side. Cole, though not more than five feet seven inches, was of extraordinary bulk, weighing 24 stone (141 b. per stone.) He had been cook at the Rainbow, Fleet-street, nearly 14 years. A short time be fore his decease, however, he had grown enormously fat. —Globe. On Monday a boy, of the name of Worthington, was passing over the ice on Redesmere, near Capesthorne Hall, when it gave way beneath him, and he was unfor tunately drowned. He came to the surface three times before he finally sunk, and was heard repeating the Lord's prayer. It was not till some time after that the body was got out by means of a boat, by the Rev. J. Heptinstell, life being then quite extinct.-117acclesfield Courier. SERIOUS ACCIDENT.—On Tuesday last, as Mr. Samuel Lewis, of Cote Crook, rear Tarporley, was oui; shooting, his gun missed fire, but while in the act of dropping it from his shoulder, it exploded (having hung fire) and the whole contents of the barrel entered the hands, thighs, and abdomen of his friend Mr. Maurice Jones, the well known trainer and jockey, of Delamere Forest, who was standing near at hand. Mr. Jones is going on fast to wards recovery.—Chester Courant. DEATH BY SUFFOCATION.-111 the night of Tuesday last, two men, father and son, named John White and William White, wool-combers, who occupied a cottage in Commercial -street, Bradford, died from suffocation. Be fore they retired to rest they had supplied the comb-pot in their room with charcoal, to be ready for work in the morning, but they perished from the effects of the car bonic acid gas evolved, and were found dead in bed early in the morning. WELLAND CANAL. — Riots still prevail along the line; in consequence of the usual winter reduction in wages, hundreds have refused to work, and are living upon the pillage of the surrounding country. A detachment of the coloured troops are on th e spot . T he rate of wages at present is 2s. 6d. a-day, to be raised to 3s. 141. on the Ist of January. Many would be glad to work at this rate but are driven off by the rioters. Mr. Moore, one of the contractors, has been severely injured by the rioters.— Montreal Courier. On Saturday morning last, about four o'clock, a loaded gun, heavily charged, was fired into the house of Peter Lyon, at Thatto-heath, Eccleston, shortly after he had gone to his work. Lyon was what is called " a nobstick," working at the colliery of Messrs. Broinilow ; and there is no doubt that his destruction and that of his family were contemplated. Providentially no injury was done to any of them. The ruffians who perpetrated this diabolical outrate are yet undiscovered, but there were several foot marks about the house, of which the measure was taken. At the Guildhall, London, yesterday week, two females of respectable appearance, named Mrs. Ann Elizabeth Earnshavv and Emma Wells, were brought before Mr. Alderman Challis, charged with stealing two silver fruit knives from the shop of Mrs. Rose, a jeweller and silver smith, in Farringdon-street ; a gold locket, value 12s. 6d., from the shop of Mr. Lamb, a jeweller in ChFapside ; and a piece of ribbon, value 55., from Messrs. Hitchcock and Rogers, week. ger w s e ,St. Paul's Church-yard. They were remanded f SUDDEN DEATH.—A melancholy instance of the un certainty of human life occurred in the up-train of the Eastern Counties Railway on Thursday last. Mr. Thomas Gainsborough, a gentleman of fortune, residing at Isling_ ton, left Sudbury, and proceeded by rail. When the train stopped at Brentwood, two gentlemen, who were his fellow-travellers, remarked that Mr. Gainsborough had taken a long nap, and proceeded to rouse him, when he was discovered to be quite dead. Mr. Gainsborough was in the 62nd year of his age, a native of Sudbury.—Suffulk Herald. weeks, in a state of alarm, in consequence of the riotous proceedings of those colliers who have struck for wages. The men at the respective collieries of Messrs. Crockford Holywell and the neighbourhood have been, for some and Kenrick continued to work up to Tuesday week, wh en w hich had collected from Mostyn, B ag il t, and Flint, surrounded the yards, abused several of th e men, a mob, succeeded in stopping the work s . O n the same fi d n a aily y the justices met, and deemed it prudent to send for a detachment of military from Chester Castle, which arrived on the following morning. RAILWAY ACCIDENT AT WAKEFIELD. --011 Tuesday morning, about two o'clock, an accident occurred at the Wakefield-station, which shows very great negligence on the part of somebody, and which we doubt not will be in quired into by the proper parties. It appears that a train from York was unloading a number of sheep, and while the men were employed in this, a luggage -train from Man chester approached at a rapid rate, aad ran into the York train, breaking several carr i ages, and doing considerable injury to both the engines. W e are happy no serious personal injury to say that took place.—Halffo x Guar dian. Feb, 21', 1844. • r Joh, DISTRESSING SUICIDE.—On Sunday week , M ter. Hutchinson, of "The Raven Inn," near Worceste! „to mutated his existence by means of a gun heavily . 1 1 : tor with sparrow shot, which he discharged into his b a) . AL n o.°throsei below his heart, the whole of tae charge passi ng patlerP and coming out of his back; the shots were 5 "." - was about the c.iling of his bed room, where the suici d e r.LI committed. The deceased was mach addicted to d I °:`, • from the effects of which he has suffered from sa, ° ~r e. of delirium tremens, which disease not unfrequee t y Y o duces mental aberration, and which, it is sureose ' the result in his case. RO B . TAKING THE VElL.—This ceremony of Catholic Church was performed on Thursday, at, tll t hor man Catholic Chapel, Bermondsey, the Rev. Dr. Titular Bishop of the metropolitan district, ni fic 'e e leyr assisted by Messrs. Beau m an, North, Avelan, G. Rolfe, Hersriep, Telford, J. O'Neil, Rymer, "L oi t. Kelly, C.c. A most numerous congregation was Prr' et y. The yr 'ling noviciate was Miss Crudden, about tw e . oo l, three years of age, and of considerable personal l lama' ',ad She has been in the convent about six months, pressed the most ardent desire to be admitted itl religious order of the " Sisters of Mercy." s 01 ' "Two OF A TRADE."—In our marriage notices ,;‘,s which records the nuptials of Mr. Carter, "the king," on Sunday last, to Miss Chapman, of thia,r The old adage, that " two of a trade never agree; As , for once disproved, by the fact that Mr. Carter s brated rival, Mr. Van Amburgh, officiated as grlee man on the occasion. We understand that the t '' - e sf trepid brute -tamers are intimate friends ; and perlAP they are the only two in their perilous trade, theY? the above all petty jealousies, and their only rivalry ifiL. g ret who shall most fearless " mock the lion when he r0".41 prey ;" or as Shakspeare elsewhere says, " make leafo— SUICIDE AT BLACKFRIAR'S BRIDGE.—.AbOOt °bit: past two o'clock on Friday morning, a reseeet a d dressed woman, about 25 y ears o f age, was o b se rve s e the policeman on duty to be lingering about the britle te e if waiting for some o ne . Sh e was seen at the aboyelier by City police-constable 329, who having passed about 20 yards, saw her deliberately mount the parer ; 1 0 the bridge near the cen t re , on t h e east s id e, an d Plu l into the river. He gav e an a l arm , b ut i n consequenree, the boats being secured, cons id era bl e d e l ay took Paco. and before he could reach her she had sunk, and was ried away by the stream. IMPORTANT TO EMIGRANTS'.—Mathew SOlllerVu.. , 0 0 emigration agent in Oswald-street, Glasgow, wa s ' e 4 August last, b roug ht b e f ore the Police-court, ChSr_ job with fraud u l en tl y o b ta i ning money from several Pld Highland emigra n t s on t h e pretext of securing pas s for them in the vesse l A yrs hi re, then about to sail ft°„t before r'efhceas justices came osfiee on finally sforLaoar fo k r sh r b: o L o iv f e h r e po l o 6 l fh fo f r o Q sf u a e o b f, ec b . when Sommerville was convicted under the statute, 6( . 1 4 jected in £2O of penalti e s, w ith costs, and his license broker declared forfeited. Those poor persons, aftere P posing of their little property, and proceeding to LI pool in the expectation of getti ng th e i r p assage , 0 ,, obliged to return to C o l onsa y, after l os i ng t h e i r al l. Glasgow Herald. HONOURABLE CONDUCT.—A rare, but beautiful h fl e : stance of mercantile i n t egr it y . was re l ate d to us the nt,, o day. We tak e th e lib erty o f pu b lishing it, as an aPP,," priate act of homage t o v i r t ue, an d as furnishing an ih_4,l"/ trious example for oth er men i n s i m i lar circumstan In the spring of 1813, Mr. John Stansfield, of Greenle"' in Glusburn, worsted spinner, was compelled to cog; pound with his creditors f or 13 s . 6d . i n the pound. 1'), removed to Halifax ; and ever s i nce, one of the ma in ° 0 jects of his life and labours, has been to realize the met e of paying off the remaining 6s. 6d. in the pound, on respective debts. By th e bl ess i ng o f Providence, hei n -ui.l e been enabled to f u lfil thi s c h er i s h e d purpose, an" "4 Monday last, the creditors, resident in Bradford, rectiCi i , their proportion from th e h an d s o f M r. S tansfiel d' s 0° eitors.—Bradford Observer. MANIFOLDING.—A few days ago, a person in -thig e town, carrying on an extensive business, hit u pon.t li te following pl an f or ra i s i ng t h e w i nd. He held a bank Or, for £5O, which h e cu t i n two, an d taking one of the P°et Lions to an acquaintance informed him that he bads received it by post, the other portion being to follow the course of a day or two; but, as he wanted the raone'a immediately, he could not wait for its arrival. This frie: ; in need, on receiving the half-note, advanced the e° 9 o and another friend did the same on receiving th e oth half. Here were a h un d re d poun d s made out of ni t i o . but the bu s in ess was no t yet comp l eted. Taking his burn; dred pounds to one of the banks, he procured a note 0 that amount, an d having again rec ourse t o th e proc ess :* cutting, actually obtained £2OO on th e t wo halves, o'," which he decamped, and has not yet been heard of: Hull Rockingham. SALE OF THE LATE REV. WM. GADSBY'S EFF IS C I4 .i.; —On Monday, the h ouse h o ld f urn i ture and e ff ec t s of 1 5' late Rev. W. G a d s b y, m i n i ster of the Baptist Chan; St. George' s - roa d, M anc h ester, were brought to le hammer. Th e sa l e was numerously attended by tj friends of the deceased ; and every article sold for a gri„ price ; some of the lot s , i n d ee d, went off at very es" o ordinary figures. Amongst them we may enumeretc fo r old birch arm-chair, worth about 65., which sold r e £4 2s. ; a common ash wa lki ng - s ti c k , not wort h 1 0 %1 ( than 3d., was knocked down for is. ; a holly walking- 01 w fetched £1 is. ; a sil v e r - mounte d cane, which was Pftet sented to the deceas e d a b ou t t wo years ao, was. much competition, kno c k e d d own to Mr. John Gad s by printer, for £6 12s. ; the portrait of the deceased , . $ Benson, was also bought by Mr. J. Gadsby, for X'l ; ,,; silver pencil-case fetched £1 ; a pair of spectacles a t o pricea mnho y a n o. s w. itv i: eL d p s e a : p i . l ka c i,r a u s of e tic v , : aa l z u .7 e pr a mi ri bo tze u ni t ! rm .. , po et, t a i t tpo ti os e r d ,l4 bought by a grandson of the deceased, a youth aby twelve years of age, for £1 14s. ATTEMPTED MURDER.--OD Monday last the magi c ; trates of Burnley were occupied in investigating a chi, against Richard Wilkinson for attempti ng t o murderlA e,.t, lington Moorbouse, un d er - game k eeper for Mr. r t The injured man ( w h o was una bl e to attend) w i t h othe r companious was passing the prisoner's door about ele c . o'clock on Sunday night, at the village of Simonstont; singing hymns ; and when he got about 40 yards past t e i c into house, he was heard to exclaim " Oh Dick has strum me"; upon which the prisoner was observed running. be his house, having on at the time only his shirt. lie r a was taken prisoner) was followed by one of the party named Saga n who on getting to the door found it locked. A Perrbe c w o a n s r d se esp o a f tc a lV i t m o n P r, ad h ih e police, when, 00 searching the prisoner a knife was found with whin" i i acknowledged he had stabbed Moorhouse and on seare.a; ing the house a hole in the wall which was made uP sear. cu . stody. ill , - b - 6 !nose stones) a small dagger was found, also a long : into one end of wbich the dagger fitted by a screw. Blackburn Standard. „ SINGULAR SUICIDE OF A CHILD.—On Monday' the Manchester Infirmary, an inquest was held before Mr. Chapman, on the body of a child seven years of 0 , 1 ;, e ; named H enry ‘” Somerville, who committed su i c id e trau,, the followi ng circumstances :—lt appea re d th a t the (1 "f ceased was the son o f J osep h S omerv ill e, labourer,. "f William -street, Salford, and was subject to extraordio s h % fits of passion, on the slightest occasions, and in which, "4 usually threatened to burn himself. On Friday night 1 , 14 ; 0 he had been irritated, and under the influence of pas e 'gi placed his head upon the fire. His sister, a girl ele e f o years of age, endeavoured to pull him away, when b g pushed a part of his clothes into the grate, and they caugo fire. Mrs. Wright, widow, with whom the deceas e ,. room lodged, heari ng screams , went i nto t h e roo 'cgs mediately, and caught h o ld o f hi m i n order to extiagutio , b 6 the flam e s. H e strugg l e d to get away from her; b u t, about three mi nu t es , s h e succeeded in doing so, and `ce deceased was taken to the Salford Dispensary , an d theig to the Infirmary, where he died on the following day' rO was stated, that he had frequently threatened to h u b is himself, vben his schoolmaster had chastised him. ° do t playfellows irrit a t e d hi m ; an d t h e supposition was 'Aies he was not of sound mind. The jury returned a ve c fr b y to the effe c t, th a t th e d ecease d destroyed himself burning, during insanity. ~,0 1 111 CANINE SAGACITY—LIFE SAVED.—On ow, week, the inhabitants of a small hamlet situated betsve_, Dunkeld and Pitlochry, were t h rown into the utmost coP, sternation by the sudden disappearance of a very C f:' , mising child about four years of age. She had been P i 4, ing about the door of the cottage, and had strayed ir i t l e without being perceived, a b out tw i light. What aleuer case more distressin g , th e groun d was covered with 80°fir and the country ro un d was w ild and bleak, while theber pidly falling snow wou ld soon o bli terate all traces of the little footsteps. After searc hi ng f or severa l heursicon. party returned home ti r ed an d di sp i r i te d , one onliveit solation, though a poor one, re ma i ne d t o them. _l,Ol faithful dog was also mis s i ng . H e h a d b een the hi companion and playmate of the child, and relyitll' • da ig r h k t n , e assndthe again them, on t a he s l s e e esPrc.T: i fidelity and sag ac ity, th e y f e lt a g l eam o r hope arul passing, g re t when, after a considerable time s p en t i n anxious and Pei str ful examination, render e d more difficult by the s e ",,d n of befo despair. re early dawn, which had fallen du r i ng th e n i g h t, their ears were sa le. '" by the joyful sound of the bark of a dog at some little d ifi tance. All their di s t ress an d fatigue were soon forgotten,t, and on hurryin g t o th e spot, they found the child unbu r sh and sound asleep in the embraces of the faithful anti who, it seem e d, b e i ng unable to bring her honcle,„jh remained faithf u l as h er guardian the whole night.--"re' Courier. M ELANCHOLY ACCIDENT. —An inquest was held , Monday last, i n C o h ie, on the bodies of Robert Du%burig", aged 20 years, an d J eremiah Fletcher, aged 16 yes Duabury was the ma t e o f a boat used for carrying o to tbe on the Leeds and Liverpool canal, and Fletcher wasfyi half brothe r o f t h e captain of the same boat. O n ee, day aftern oon t h e b oat was going to Fou!ridge for s' .n "ip and they a rr i ve d at the Foulridge tunnel a little after s a t This tunnel is a mile through by means of persons pushing one on each al's t he the boat. Tattersall, the captain, took the horse o st other end of the tunnel, to be in readiness for the bet when it shonld get through, leaving Duxbury and Flet r e, to push the boat through, as they had often d o ne bew on j Some persons who were waiting at the end heard pet 111 talking in the tunnel, and shortly after heard a sPl as t bef the water. On Tattersall, the captain, coming UP , ta ke mentioned the circumstance to him. They agreed tc ) . r ds the boat i n t o th e t unne l, an d on go i ng about 140 YlOll, they came to Tattersall's boat, but no one was on bt‘ 7 pet They pushed the boat back to th e F ou l r id ge side, bubod with nothing except Duxbury's cap, and the boatmi el i, floating on the water. Altera l ong searc h f or t h e ne, e re Duxbury's was found about 40 y ar d s f rom t h e p l a ce °Roo the boat had been, and shortly after Fletcher's was e of found nea r the same pla ce . I t was thought that o .° e e , them had fallen into the water, and that the other, Ov e r , deavourinz to get him out, had met the same fate. diet, " Accidental death,"