The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1843-07-04 00:00:00

s was t larble land ire not Gael Then drin at Greek. t, and dream dead but deal Like music in the el. As not in the chiming hot ae Romans most a, turn cd will k The Beautiful— mummy-wheat pon it ! " he red gra ,ona sleeps led her sor ;.known in. a his shield A PICTURE OF A VERY YOUNG NUN, OT READING A DOC And hast No sweet INAL BOOK BY HARTLEY COLERIDGE n Araby Thou wert immured, poor In the blank childhood of thy simpleness. Too young to doubt, too pure to be ashamed, Thou gave't to God what God had never claim'd And didst, unweeting, sign away , Ine all Of earthly good —a guiltless Prod The large reversion of thy unborn _ Was sold to purchase an estate above. Yet, by those hands upon thy bosom prest, I think, indeed, thou art not quite at rest. Yon Christ, that hangs upon the sculptured cross, Is not the JESUS to redeem thy loss; Nor will that book, whate'er its p -- Convince thee that the world is ' liven now, there is a somethi , Would fain be off • contain, and vain, y heart nut may not, dare not start. ,e lips prove Yes, yes, thy face, those eyes, thy ch. Thou wert created to be loved, and love NEW BOOKS The Scenery and Antiquities of Ireland, illustrated by drawings, by Bartlett; the literary department by N. P. Willis, Esq. London, G. Virtue. We have received Part XXVI. of this work, which continues to be got up w i th the same spirit and liberality inillustration, and the same interest in the descriptive department, that characterised the earlier numbers. This part embraces some peculiarly int eres ti ng parts o f Ireland— the metropolis, and portions of its romantic environs. There are four beautiful engravings (on steel), by cele brated artists, namely, of Sackville-street, (with Nelson's monument in the centre,) taken from the bridge across the Liffey, at the south end ; Waterford, with its long elegant pile-bridge, its shipping, &c. ; Carrickfergus Castle, peering on a rock, washed by the sea ; and the Augustinian Abbey of Adare, a noble gothic ruin, still overtopped by a square embattled tower. These are all executed in the finest style of the art, and are each so beautiful that We know not w hi c h mos t t o comm e n d. Th e literary pprtiortA written with the author's accustomed ability, and tact t !conveying much pleasing information, anecdote, and historical reminiscence within a small com pass. He briefly notices the celebrity of Ireland and her universities in the early ages, and the causes of its gra dual decline ; describes the celebrated Hall of Tara ; gives an account of the nature and extent of several of the vast bogs of Ireland ; and passing from Trim to Dublin, by way of Kilock, Maynooth, Carton, and Leixlip, furnishes an animated and pleasing sketch of the metropolis, and its diversified and romantic environs—to be continued in the next number. The work would form an excellent book of reference for the tourist, and will be found equally acceptable in the parlour or the drawing-room. We quote the following passage, descriptive of Leixlip, as a specimen of the style, selected for its brevity, rather than as being a favourable specimen of the author's general Powers which are better displayed in subjects of higher import : "The little town of Leixlip is delightfully situated near the banks of the Liffey, in a richly diversified coun try. From the bridge the view is beautiful beyond de scription; on either band the river is seen foaming and fretting over its rugged bed until lost between its pictu resque banks, while on a commanding eminence the old castle of Leixlip lifts its embattled towers above the thick oak wood that surrounds it. At a short distance above the town is that romantic spot called the Salmon Leap, where the river, tumbling over a succession of rocky ledges, forms a beautiful cascade; the precipitous banks are thickly covered with wood, and the whole scene, though not on so extensive a scale as many of the celebrated falls in Scotland and Switzerland, is excelled by few in natural beauty. Indeed, but for the barbarous intrusion of a modern, business-like, stone-built, and slated mill, which has been erected close to the falls by some plodding trader, it would be difficult to find a place in which so many picturesque beauties are combined. The Salmon Leap is a f avour i te p l ace for picnic parties of the citizens of Dublin, who make excursions to it in the summer months, dining on the grassy shore, or on the broad tabular rocks which in the dry season are left bare by the fallen waters, and afford convenient platforms Mr. Jef !',r the accommodation of the gay groups assembled there, who Forth from the crowded city's dust and noise, Wander abroad to taste pure Nature's . joys, To laugh and sport, and spend the live-long day In harmless merriment an d j ocun d pl a y.' " Transaction. irf the Liverpool Polytechnic Society for 1842. Liverpool : Lace and Addison. A neat pamphlrt under this title has just been pub lished, and contains, besides the annual report of the council, reports and abstracts of the papers read during the last year, with brief notices of the discussions that from time to time succeeded,—the whole concluding with the able address of the president at the close. Amongst the papers are; everal of a high order—all by members of the society—on chemical and mechanical philosophy and on various othersubjects—viz., ventilation, imponderables, the. Alpaca wool manufacture, iron as a material for ship building, four and six-wheel locomotives, locomotive cranks, the resistance of water to bodies moving through it, the principles of harmony prevailing in the system of nature, safety valves, the consumption of smoke in fur naces, &c. Several models and works of art which had been exhibited are also here explained. The meetings are held monthly at the Royal Institution. The object of the society (as stated in the preface) is " to promote the use ful and inunious arts in Liverpool, by securing to their inventors (hose advantages which, in every department of science, have been found to result from mutual encourage ment and co-operation, and from the interchange of ideas and judging from the proceed- in unreserved discussion _ re search, as well as from the local and corresponding list of members, including many of the most distinguished scientific and literary men in the locality and elsewhere, we cannot doubt but that the society is destined to become a high ornament and advantage to the town—calculated• as it is e he service o mankind Plane Geometry. Second Book of Euclid's Elements, demonstrated by Algebraic Symbols, and applied to the Solution of Problems; the composition and construc tion of Quadratic Equations, sre. By W. Dunlop, Science Tutor, Dublin. Part I. of this work is before us, and is evidently the production of a practised mathematician. The author states in a brief preface :—" The process of investigatitag quire little knowledge of the well-k of geometry are simply ler, and require only an acquaintance with ) resolve them to the forms ob s are clearly defined, and to the science in the it, be found a rotes on the Marine Glue. By Alfred Jefferey, patentee to him (he st tion to the 3 shipowners, shipwr conse . q. and - property afloat producers of coppe c action, tor the sheathing of vessels, its method did not reduce the cost, and ,her disadvantages, " the idea occurred of applying soluble gums, as a protec -1 1 • • • bottoms by combining elastic gutn with non-elastic, and charging the whole composition with ingredients destructive both to animal and vegetable life, the object he had in view might be, effectually attained ; inasmuch as such a coating. . wmild L th. t:. water, and also prevent any adhesion or accumulation of animal or vegetable matter, and resist the attack of the ship-worm." In this he was very successful, in several experiments on blocks of wood sunk in Portsmouth har bour • and in the c ourse o f hi s researches he discovered the Marine Glue, possessing properties most useful and important for shipbuilding and other purposes. This substance is inso' " le in, and impervious to, water; is 'and wit! ' • so as to contract or ex cold ; sufficic tly solid to fill u .0 adhesive as to connect A number of experiments made with it in Woolwich Dock-yard, . presence --' A. Collier, and the master ship wrights of the Queen's dock-yards in all our great naval - onals, with a highly gratifying result. These experi 're detailed, and it appears from them that timbers •''- 4 , and after long submersion in wa -ostood strains of many tons without being ....d—the wood giving way, while the joint in every remained firm. It appears, indeed, to connect tim ber as strongly, and to maintain its strength under water as firmly, as the best common glue does in a dry state, with - fqcre cr ' I the timber; have already by of Sir I glued togei ter, have v ther wi e additional advantag, elasticity. .t is also applica ble to effectually filling up rents or fissures in blocks of wood, and to the fishing or splicing of masts, „drung yards, and other spars. guilt masts are also so connected by it as to be much stronger than if of one piece, and this has been proved in the mainmast of the Eagle, 50-gun ship, of that of the Trafalgar, 120-gun ship, and others. It has also been applied in laying the decks of the Victo ria and Albert steam-vessel, built for her Majesty and Prince Albert ; and in this respect has been proved to be greatly superior and more durable than pitch, in several vessels that have made lon' voyages. It has been found equally advantageous in tightening small craft and boats, sere also for dock-gates, &c. Th e severa l exper i ments:are at- tested by nautical men, and illustr we strongly recommend a perusal of the pamphlet (which is THE ARISTOCRACY OF ENGLAND (From Blackwood's Magazine for July.) - - " Perhaps, however, the one capital force, operating for good upon► the British aristocracy, is—the paramount reference of all accomplishments, of ambition through all its modes, and of _party connexions, to the public service T'• .nis, again, which constitutes a fourth head amongst the characteristics of English society, may be viewed as both cause and effect with reference to our civil institutions. Here we regard it as a cause. It is a startling assertion to make, but we have good reason to think it true, that, in the last great war with Jacobinism, stretchin^ "- very nearly one whole Quarto- beyonc nuutiLuy was nat order amongst us who shed their Wood in the largest proportion for the common wealth. Let not the reader believe that for a moment we are capable of undervaluing the pretensions of any class, whether high or low. Pll furnished martyrs to that noblest of causes. And it is not possible that this should be otherwise; because amongst us society is so exquisitely fused, so delicate are the nuances by which our ranks play out and in to each other, that no man can imagine the possibility of an arrest being communicated at any point to the free circulation of any one national feeling whatsoever. Great chasms must exist between social ranks, where it is possible for a sentiment of nationality to be sundenly frozen up as it approaches one particular class ; as a corollary from which doctrine, we have always treated with derision the scurrilous notion that our rural body of landowners, our country squires, could, by possi bility, differ essentially from the rest of us. Bred amongst us, educated amongst us, intermarrying with us indis criminately, how by any means apparent to common sense should it be possible for them to maintain an inheritance of separate ignorance, separate prejudices, or separate purposes, such as interested manufacturers and trivial satirists assume ? On the same principle, it is not possible that, in questions of elementary patriotism, any palsy should check the electric movement of the national feelings through every organ of its social life—except only in the one case where its organization is imperfect. Let there be a haughty nobility, void of popular sympathies, such as the haute noblesse of Russia or Hungary is some times said to be, and it will be possible that jealousy on behalf of privileges should operate so noxiously as to place such a body in opposition to the people for the sake of what it holds separ a tely, ra th er th an i n sympathy with the people for the sake of what both hold in common. With us, this is otherwise ; the very highest and most feudal amongst our nobles are associated by common rights, interests, and subjection to the laws, with the general body of the people. Make an exception for the right of demanding an audience from the so vereign, for the right of entree at St. James's, for the right of driving through the Horse Guards, or for Lord Kinsale's right of wearing his hat in the royal pre sence—reckon of the petty discount for privileges so purely ceremonial, and absolute nothing remains to dis tinguish the nobility. For as to the practice of entails, the legal benefit of primogeniture, &c., these have no more essential connexion with the nobility, than the possession of land or manorial rights. They are privileges attached to a known situation, which is open equally to every man not disqualified as an alien. Consequently, we infer that, the fusion and continuity of our ranks being perfect, it is not possible to suppose, with respect to a great patriotic interest, any abrupt pause in the fluent circulation of our national sympaties. We, therefore, cannot be supposed to arrogate for the nobility any separate privilege of pa triotism. But still we venture to affirm, that, if the total numbers of our nobility and their nearest connexions were summed; and if from that sum were subtracted all offi cers, being brothers, sons, nephews, of British peers, who laid down their lives, or suffered incurable wounds in the naval or military service of their country, the proportion will be found greater than that upon the aggregate re mainder belonging to the rest of the nation. Life is the same blessing for all ranks alike. But certainly, though for all it is intrinsically the same priceless jewel, there is in the setting of this jewel something more radiantly bril liant to him who inherits a place amongst the British no bility, than to him whose prospects have been clouded originally by the doubts and fears of poverty. A n d, a t all events, the libation of blood in the course of the last war was, we must repeat, on the part of the high aristocracy, disproportionately large. " In that proportion are those men unprincipled who speak of the English nobility as an indolent class—de tached from public employments, and taking neither share nor interest in the public service. Such representations, where they are not deliberate falsehoods, point to a fact which is not uncommon ; from the limited number of our nobility, and consequently the rare opportunities for really studying their habits, it is easy to see that in sketches of this order, (whether libellous amongst mob orators, or serious in novels,) the pretended portrait has been founded on a vague romantic abstraction of what may be supposed peculiar to the condition of a patrician order under all po litical circumstances. Haughtiness, exclusiveness, indo lence, and luxury, compose the romantic type which the delineator figures to his mind ; and at length it becomes evident to any man, who has an experimental knowledge of this order, that probably the ancient Persian satraps, or the omrahs of Hindostan, have much more truly been operatively present to the describers than any thing anci ent or modern amongst the realities of England. A can did person, who wishes to estimate the true, and not the imaginary nobles of England, will perceive one fact through the public journals, viz., that no class takes a more active share in that sort of the public business which naturally commends itself to their support. At least one half of the deliberative meetings connected with the innu merable charities of London, very many of the public din ners by which such charities are promoted or commemo rated, obtain the benevolent aid of noblemen as chairmen and presidents. Provincial asssemblies for the same pur poses, and, still more frequently, assemblies growing out of the endless political questions incident to a nation in our circumstances, receive the same influential countenance. These labours, by no means slight, added to the evening parliamentary attendance through half the year, and the morning attendance on par liamentary committees, together with the magiste rial duties of many lords lieutenants, sufficiently at test that in this point of public duties (exercised with out fee or compensation), our nobility is the only one in 'Europe having almost any connexion at all with the national service, except through the army. Some of this small body are pretty constantly attached to the cabinet ; others act as ambassadors, as under-secretaries, or as colonial governors. And so far are they from wishing, apparently, to limit the field for their own exertions, that the late Dukes of Manchester and Richmond sponta neously extended it, by giving the countenances of their high stations to the governments of Canada, and even of Jamaica. A marquis of ancient family has lately ac cepted the government of Madras; and gradually, as our splendid colonies expand their proportions, it is probable that many more of them will benefit at intervals, (in their charities and public works,) from the vast revenues of our leading nobles acting as their governors. Add to these the many cases of junior nobles who sit in the House of Common s ; of those who keep alive the public irit of great provinces by standing costly contested elections ; of those professionally pursuing the career of arms in the naval or land service; and then, collating all this activity with the very limited extent of our peerage taken even with their families, not the very bigotry of de mocracy will deny that the characreristic energy of our nation is faithfully reflected f rom it s hi g h er order." tittrattarc. We feel that in time past we have frequently led the readers of the STANDARD too exclusively through the the turmoil of political controversy. The necessity of our position is the only apology which we shall offer. Cooped up within the space of a single sheet, and our time well nigh occupied with the labours incident to a double publication, we had little opportunity for afford ng ourselves, or our readers, the relaxation of an ex land of song or of romance. or for evere, yet not less delightful, pursuits of criticism and philosophy. We are now, however, by the new arrangement of our time and space, happily emancipated from the thraldom, in which thus far we have been held. Our prison doors are open. " Fresh fields and pastures new"—grateful to the sense as the first breath of heaven to the cheek of the fever-worn and we shall, from hand, endeavour to enrsion into the fairy- the more s conval escent— time to time gather their flow and with no spar verdant, to those readers whc eye upon ou mble labour! To those of the co. pondents correapondeets of the ST ANDARI ith occasional comm reasons given a e, we hay to accord 1( ablec lilst we shall, on every occasio making thi kind of miscellar —a collect and present them here fresh and , stow a favouring !cially of thefair o have honoured to which, for the times been compelled )n due to them— e ample measure of d us for notice ,ortion of our paper a of poetry and prose to amuse and in- lion is not altogether tical or economica NKING SONG criticism, and philosophy—, struct those r absorbed by tt PHILHELLENIC DR dry details c THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD AN ADVENTURE IN PARIS (Prom the Loiterings of Arthur O'Leary.) In my rambles through Paris, visiting strange and out of-the-way places, dining here, and supping there, watch ing life under every aspect I could behold it, I strolled one evening across the Pont Neuf into the " Isle St. Louis," that quaint old.quarter with its narrow straggling I glooiny houses, barricadoed Like fo The old porte c oc h ere studded for with nails. and barred with iron, and having each a v to pe through" at the stranger without, spoke of days when outrage and attack were rife, and it behoved every man to fortify his stronghold as best he could.- There were now to be found the most abandoned and desperate of the whole Parisian world—the assassin, the murderer, th e housebreaker the coiner, found .reeuge in this conf use d wilderness of it gloomy alleys and dark dismal passages. 'hen night falls, no lantern throws a friendly gleam the streets—all is left in perfect darkness, save when the red light of some cabaret lamp streams across the pavement. In one of these dismal streets I found myself when night set in, and although I walked on and on, somehow rnever could extricate myself, but conti nually kept moving in some narrow circle, so I guessed at least, for I n ever wan d ere d f ar f rom the deep-toned bell of " Notre Dame," that went on chanting its melan choly peal through the stillness of .the night air. I often stopped to'listen, now it seemed before, now behind me ; the rich solemn sound fl oat i ng throughl those cavernous streets, had something awfully impressive. The voice that called;to prayer, heard in that gloomy haunt of crime, was indeed a strange and appalling thing. At last it ceased, and all was still. For some time I was uncertain how to act, I feared to knock at a door and ask my way, the very confession of my loneliness would have been an invitation to outrage, if not to murder. No one passed me ; the streets seemed actually deserted. Fatigued with walking'l sat down on a door sill and began to consider what was best to be done, when I heard the sound of heavy feet moving along towards me, the clattering of sabots on the rough paveme n t, an d s h or tl y -"- 'T could just distinguish, seemed - him to pass me a few paces er a man came up w to be a labourer. I s and then called out— " Holloa, friend, can you tell me the shortest way to the Pont Neuf ?" He replied by some words in a patois so strange I could make nothing of it. I repeated my question, and en deavoured, by signs, to express my wish. By this time he was standing close beside me, and I could mark, was evidently paying full attention to all I said. He looked about him once or twice, as if in search of some one, and then turning to me said in a thick guttural voice— " Halle la, I'll come ;" and with that he moved down in the direction he originally came from, and I could hear the clatter of his heavy shoes till the sounds were lost in the winding alleys. A sudden thought struck me that I had done wrong. The fellow had evidently some dark intention by his going back, and I repented bitterly having allowed him to leave me; but then what were easier for him than to lead me where he pleased had I retained him ; and so I reflected, when the noise of many voices speaking in a half-subdued ac cent came up the street. I heard the sound, too, of a great many feet; my heart sickened as the idea of mur der, so associated with the place, flashed across me ; and I had just time to squeeze myself within the shelter of the door-way when the party came up. " Somewhere hereabouts, you said, wasn't it ?" said one in a good accent, and a deep, clear voice. " Oui da!" said the man I had spoken to, while he felt with his hands upon the walls and door-way of the oppo site house. " Holloa there," he shouted. " Be still, you fool : don't you think that he suspects something by this time ? Did the others go down the Rue des Loups ?" " Yes, yes." said a voice close to where I stood. "Then all's safe; he can't escape that way. Strike a light, Pierre." A tall figure, wrapped up in a cloak, produced a tin • box, and began to clink deliberately with a steel and flint. Every flash showed me some savage-looking face, where crime and famine struggled for mastery, while I could mark that many had large clubs of wood, and one or two were armed with swords. 1 drew my breath with short efforts, and was preparing myself f or th e struggle, in coh;r4l efore me, I resolved to sell )assed across the pillar of oor, and rested on my leg. For a second it never stirred ; then slowly moved up to my knee, where it stopped again. My heart seemed to cease its beating; I felt like one around whose body some snake is coiling, fold after fold, his slimy grasp. The hand was gently with drawn, And before I could recover from my surprise, I was seized by the throat and hurled out into the street. A savage laugh rang through the crowd, and a lantern, just lighted, was held up to my face, while he who spoke first called out— " You didn't dream of escaping us, be'le, did you ?" at the same moment hands were thrust into my various pockets ; the few silver pieces I possessed were taken ; my watch torn off; my hat examined, and the lining of my coat ripped open, and all so speedily that I saw at once I had fallen into experienced hands. " Where do you live in Paris ?" said the speaker, still holding the light to my face, and staring fixedly at me while 1 answered. " I am a stranger and alone," said I, for the thought struck me, that in such a circumstance frankness was as good policy as any other. ' I came here to-night to see the cathedral, and lost my way in returning.' " But where do you live ? in what quarter of Paris ?" " The Rue d' Alger ; number 12 ; the second story." " What effects have you there in money ?" " One English bank note for five pounds ; nothing more." " Any jewels, or valuables of any kind?" "None ; I am as poor as any man in Paris." " Does the porter know your name, in the house?" "No ; I am only known as the Englishman of number 12." " What are your hours, irregular, are they not ?" " Yes; I often come very late." " That's all right. You speak French well. Can you write it? " Yes ; sufficiently so for any common purpose." " Here, then," said he, opening a large pock e t-b oo k, " write an order which I'll tell you to the concierge of the house. Take this pen." With a trembling hand I took the pen, and waited for its direction.' " Is it a woman keeps the door of your hotel ?" " Yes," said I. " Well, then, begin—Madame La Concierge, let the bearer of this note have the key of my apartment." 'As I followed with my hand the words, I could mark that one of the party was whispering in the ear of the speaker, and then moved slowly round to my back.' " Hush, what's that ?" cried the chief speaker. Be still there ;' and as we listened, the rich chorus of a num ber of voices singing in parts, was heard at some little distance off. " That infernal nest of fellows must be rooted out of this, one day or other, ' said the chief ; ' an d if I en d my days on the Place de a Greve, I'll try and do it. Hush there—be still—they're passing on,' true enough, the sound began to wax fainter, and my heart sank heavily, as I thought the last hope was leaving me : suddenly a thought dashed through my mind—de a th i n one s h ape i s as bad as another. I'll do it—l stooped down, as if to continue my writing, and then collecting my strength for the effort, and taking a deep breath, I struck the man in front a blow with all my might, that felled him to the ground, and clearing him with a spring, bounded down the street. My old Indian teaching had done me good service here ; for white men could have caught me in an open plain, with space and sight to guide me —and I gained at every stride; but alas, I dared not stop to listen whence the sounds proceeded, and could only dash straight forward, not knowing where it might lead me, down a steep rugged street, that grew narrower as I went, I plunged—when, horror of horrors, I heard the Seine plashing at the en% : the rapid current of the river surged against the heavy tnni - ,ers that defended the banks, with a sound like a death-wail. _ _ _ A solitary trembling light lay afar off in the river from some barge that was at anchor there. 1 fixed my eye upon it, and was preparing for a plunge, when, with a half. suppressed cry, my pursuers sprung up from a low wharf I had not seen, below the quay, and stood in front of me ; in an instant they were upon me, a shower of blows fell on my head and shoulders—and one, armed with a des perate resolution, struck me on the forehead, and felled me on the spot. • - -- " Be quick now, be quick," said a voice I well knew— " into the river with him—the ' filets de St. Cloud' will catch him by day-break—into the river with him." They tore off my coat and shoes, and dragged me along towards the wharf—my senses were clear, though the blot,/ bad deprived me of all power to resist—and I could calculatd the little chance still left me, when once I had reached the river—when a loud yell, and a whistle was heard afar off—another, louder, followed—the fellows around me sprang to their legs, and with a muttered curse, and a cry of terror, darted off in different directions. I could hear now several pistol shots following quickly on each other, and the noise of a scuffle with swords ; in an instant it was over, and a cheer burst forth, like a cry of triumph. " Any one wounded there ?" shouted a deep manly voice, from the end of the street : I endeavoured to call out, but my voice failed me. " Holloa there any one wounded?" said the voice a ga i n , w h en a window was opened over my head, and a man held a candle out, and looked into the street. " This way, this way," said he, as he caught sight of my shadow where I lay. " Ay, I guessed they went down here," said the same voice I heard first, as he came along, followed by several others. " Well, friend, are you much hurt, any blood lost ?" " No, only stunned,' said I, " and almost well al ready." " Have you any friends here—were you quite alone ?" " Yes ; quite alone." "Of course you were—why should I ask ? That mur derous gang never dared to face two men yet. Come, are you able to walk ? Oh, you're a stout fellow, I see—come along with us. Come, Ludwig, put a hand under him, and we'll soon bring him up." When they lifted me up, the sudden motion caused a weakness so complete, that I fainted, and knew little more of their proceedings, till I found myself lyi ng on a so f a i n where a large lo w room, some forty persons were seated at a long table, most of them smoking from huge pipes of regular German proportions. " Where am I ?" was my question, as I looked about, and perceived that the party wore a kind of blue uniform, with fur on the collar and cuffs—and a greyhound, worked in gold . , on the arm. " Why, you're safe, my good friend," said a friendly voice beside me—" that's quite enough to know at resent, isn t it ?" p " I begin to agree with you," said I coolly—and so, turning round on my side, I closed my eyes, and fell into as pleasant asleep as ever I remember in my life. SELECTIONS FEAR EALYSING LAVGRTER.—The motion of fear must produce a different sensation in a Chinese from what it does in other people, for, when most afraid, they in variably laugh the heartiest. Rather against the theory of Mr. Hobbes, that " the passion of laughter is nothing else but sudden glory arising from sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves by comparison with the in firmity of others, or with our own formerly."—Captain Lock's• The Closing Events of the Campaign in China. It is one of the artful plans of the Tractarian school to represent the heads of the Church of England as really divided upon.this subject. But this is not the case. Some of the bishops have seen more good arising out of a few of the early tracts than others have doi,. curred in this, that, as a whole, they have been injurious, Some of the bishops have thought more highly than others but all have con- ci.ca VW. till nave concurred in blaming the creation of a schism, and of a ,heresy, which must tend to drive the lay members of the Church, either onwards to Romish, or backwards to Protestant dissent. We have read every charge which has been delivered by the heads of our Church .with regard to this heresy; and we have no he& tation in sayir that the condemnntt-- • v., under which. Dr. Pusey is now suffering is one which is not merely inflicted by the University of Oxford, but is in complete harmony with all the declared opioions of our episcopal governors. —The Churchman for July. COMPETITION.—This under-selling speculation, this plan to secure a monopoly, this courting of present loss with an eye to more abundant profit in the end, however sanctioned by example and universality of practice, is part of a system radically wrong ; an effort in the struggle by which each man sells to overreach his brother; an opera tion of the principle of selfishness; sure in its prospective action so to influence the dealer, that, calculating the pro bable loss on his merchandise, he will find, in his own bosom, a plausible plea for expending the least possible outlay in its preparation ; and this same fact being present also to the apprehension of the party who supplies it, will affect the wages paid to the poor drudges whose manual labour brings it from the bowels of the earth, or whether at the anvil or the loom, works into form by mechanical operation. At home there is scarcely a branch of trade where the same mischievous and wrongful: plan is not occasionally pursued. We are always hearing of prodigious bargains on sale—some article offered for less than it could possibly be sold at, unless in some other article a pro fit equivalent to this:loss is to be made : and if only equiva lent, who would be at the trouble and incur the risk of such a venturous game ? We may point to large establish ments, not " selling off, " but in thriving business, un dertaking to supply some small matter in very general use, at fifty or a hundred per cent, less than the very prepara tion, exclusive of the material, must cost them, if the poor creatures who fashion it are paid with any regard to common honesty or decency in the transaction. How can this be, unless purchasers, tempted by such a lure to fre quent the establishment, are enormously overcharged—in plain English, defrauded—in something else ?—Perils of the Nation. THE PROTESTANT CHURCH AT JERUSALEM.—A small upper room, within the city, on the lower slopes of Sion, appropriately fitted up, and ascended by a staircase from without, is as yet the only place for the administration of our holy worship ; and that was too spacious for the little flock that assembled there, including, besides ourselves, only the architect, the bishop's family, with a portion of his household, and two missionaries. Adjoining the tem porary chapel are laid the foundations of the new Protes tant church ; for which the ground is excavated to the depth of fifty feet, through accumulated rubbish. Assu redly it will now stand, for it is not only founded on a rock, but " her foundations are upon the holy hill, and the Lord loveth the gates of Sion more than all the dwell ings of Jacob :" once more, " out of Sion bath God ap peared in perfect beauty." This sacred edifice is intended to contain five hundred persons. Where so many are to be found, remains yet to be seen. God will, if it be so decreed, prosper the work. As yet, the only Protestants in the "City of God" are the Consul, a very trifling number of Hebrew converts, and the Missionaries. The prayers of our liturgy are read daily at seven o'clock in the morning, in Hebrew, and in the evening in the Eng lish language : on a Sabbath afternoon, and on other occasions, the German is used in addition. Having re ceived an invitation to attend evening service in the con fined, though comfortable, well-furnished residence of the Bishop, in a narrow street, I gladly availed myself of the privilege; and subsequently enjoyed much conversation with him. His family consists of a wife, daughters, a governess, chaplain, two or three English servants, and a medical man—a most requisite addition, the climate at certain seasons being decidedly unhealthy, the rai❑ fall ing in spring causing fevers and ague : so severely was the architect suffering, that on the occasion of our dining at his residence he was compelled to keep his bed.— Stent's Tour. THE LIVERPOOL. MERCHANT OF EIGHTY YEARS AGO. — Mr. Manesty was about three or four and forty years of age. His countenance was cold and calculating, seldom, if ever, relaxing into a smile, and almost as sel dom darkening into a frown. In stature, he, like one o f Crabbe's heroes— " Grave Jonas' kindred, Sibyl kindred's sire, Was six feet high, and look'd six inches higher;" and his massive head, somewhat (contrary to custom, he wore no peruke) touched with gray, and rapidly inclining to be bald, was firmly set on a pair of ample shoulders. His dress, which never varied, was of snuff-brown broad cloth, a wide-skirted coat, a deep-flapped waistcoat, and a close-fitting pair of breeches, not reaching much beyond the knee, where they were secured by a pair of small sil ver buckles. These garments were all of the same colour and material, and for more than twenty years he had not allowed any change in their fashion, which, though an object of scorn in the eyes of the beaux and macaronies of the middle of the last century, was comfortable and commodious. No ruffles graced his wrists ;no tie or solitaire decorated his stiff cravat, rolled closely round his muscular throat; no ornament whatever was worn on any part of his person ; but all, from his well-brushed, broad-brimmed hat, to his woollen stockings of iron gray, and his shoes—blackened with whatever art, before the appearance of Day and Martin in the world, could com mand, and kept tightiy close by a pair of the darkest buckles—was scrupulously clean, stainless, and without speck. Such, too, was his repute among his brother merchants ; and when, at Exchange hours, he made his way, slowly and steadily pacing among the commercial crowd, with his gold-headed cane, which he carried more as an emblem of his caste than for any purpose of sup porting his brawny hand or strong-set limbs, he seemed, in more senses th an one , a p il lar of ' Change.—John Manesty, the Liverpool Merchant, by the late Dr. Ma gian, from Ainsworth's Magazine. QUAKERS AFTER THE RESTORATION.—Amongst the most remarkable taverns was one kept by a Quaker in Finch-lane, and frequented almost exclusively by persons of the same fraternity. The Quakers opened their hearts, under the Restoration, to a little soc i a l i ntercourse, and became such excellent judges of wine, that this establish ment to which they resorted was noted for the rare quality of its liquors. But the most striking attribute of the house was the dreary melancholy that pervaded it. Utterly unlike all the other taverns, this hostelrie was as still as the grave ; the visitors moved about in silence, or sat like spectres over their glasses. Hilarity was out of the ques tion ; nobody spoke, exce pt b y w hi spers, or in hushed voices, in a corner of the room ; discussion was prohi bited; outward signs or expressions of enjoyment there were none, except in the watering of the eyes or the mant ling colour of the cheeks ; a sad and profound gravity spread over the assembled guests ; even the drawers glided through the room with the solemn air of phantoms ; and the whole company seemed to be awaiting the visitation of the spirit to unlock their tongues and the fountains of gaiety in their brains, so plentifully supplied by their noiseless potations. A coarse writer, who was certainly no Quaker, gives a curious description of the interior. " We found all things," be observes, " as silent as the mourning attendance at a rich man's funeral ; no ringing of bar-bell or bawling of drawers, but a general hush kept up through the whole family, as a warning to all tipplers, at their entrance, not to make a noise. * * * In the entry, we met two or three blushing saints, who had been holding forth so long over their glass, that had it not been for their flappi ng um b re ll as, pur i tan i ca l coats , and dimi nutive cravats, shaped like the rose of a parson's hat-band, I should have taken them, by their scarlet faces, to be good Christians. They passed us as upright and as stiff as so many figures in a raree-show. * * * A drunken looking drawer, disguised in a sober garb, shewed us into the kitchen, which we told him we were desirous of being in ; several of Fath er R amsa y' s s l on ching disciples sat hovering over their half-pints, like so many gossips over their quarterns of brandy, as if they were afraid anybody should see them,"—Ainsworth's Magazine. SECOND EDITION. Standard-office, Half-past Eleven o'clock. LIVERPOOL TRADESMEN'S CUP The following are the acceptances for this anxiously expected race :- 9st 21b Mr. Holmes's b h Vulcan, 6 yrs Lord John Fitzroy ns ch h Retriever, aged Mr Bake ns b m Collina, 5 qrs Lord Wilton ns ch h The Knight-of-the-Whistle, 5 yrs Major Yarburgh's br h Heslington, 5 yrs. Mr. G. Payne's br h Johnny, 6 yrs Lord Howth's b h Morpeth, 5 yrs Mr R Wardlaw's b elMoss Trooper, .4 yrs Lord Eglington's b f Blue Bonnet, 4 yrs Mr J Henderson ns br c Whistle Binkie, 4 yrs Lord Kelburne's b h Give-him-a-name, 5 yrs Mr. Frazer ns b h Tbirsk, 5 yrs Mr J Langshaw us b c Eboracum, 4 yrs Mr J M Stanley ns b h Forester, 5 yrs Mr Meiklam's b c Aristotle, 4 yrs Duke of Richmond's br h Mus, abed Col. Anson ns ch m Rhodanthe, eyears. Mr. W. Davis's The Major, by Sheet Anchor, 4 years. Mr. S. Willoughby ns ch c Vakeel, 4 years. Mr. Merry's b c Cable, 4 years. Mr. J. S. Leigh ns Lord G. Bentinck's br h Naworth, 6 years. Mr. Osbaldeston's b f Sister to Alexandrina, 4 years. Hon. E. M. LI. Mostyn's br c Lytham, 4 years. Mr. Kennedy's gr c The Lord of the Isles, 4 years. Lord Chesterfield's b c Tiptoe, 4 years. Mr. Graydon's ch c Recompense, 4 years. Sir R. Pigot's ch g by Cain, out of Miss Chester, 4 years. Mr. Burke ns br c True Boy, 3 years. Lord Eglington's br c Pompey, 3 years. Duke of Richmond's Lothario, by Giovanni, out of Moggy, 3 years. Capt. Harcourt's br c Sir Abstrupus, 3 years. REMARKABLE COINCIDENCES : QUEEN CHRISTINE. —By one of those remarkable coincidences that assume the charecter of fatalities, Valencia is identified with the two most important events in the life of Marie Christine, the Alpha and Omega of her queenly career. It was there that she landed when arriving in Spain to be married to ber uncle, Ferdinand the Seventh ; and it was there, too, eleven years later, that she signed her extraordinary.abdi cation previous to embarking from thence for France. The Syanish gentleman, who was on board with us, told us that on the first of these occasions the authorities of Valencia had prepared for her r( 3tibn by wniun was piacea in a private resi dence that was set apart for her sejour, there being no governnient palkce at Valencia. After the departure of the bride for Madrid. this rich his own house, previous to his own marriage, and could find nothing in the place to equal it in taste and splen dour. At the period of the Queen's last visit to Valencia, the authorities of the town had solicited from him, loan of the same furniture for her Majesty's use :—And - t is a remarkable fact." he addprl_ by Christine for the ceremony of signing her abdication was performed before the identical dressing-glass, at which, eleven years before, the nuptial crown and veil had been placed upon her brow."-Ilfrs; Romer's The Rhone, ` SURPLUS POPULATION."—ThC extent of territory occupied by Judah and Israel in David's days did not quite double that of the principality. of Wales. The king took a census, and the returns showed the p o p u l a ti on t o _ . . i i!: i g a n o o n u f t s s n e l v n e m n 0 m n i l t l h i o e n y s . mustln t h l e l e s p n e p t r i c n e s f e u d l , t n p ro h s s i v )e e ro u s in creasedealpinyedyeetnnmeeorrnei,no.antdhesnno i w s e_fin J d nd i s t, h for an dthe Israel languagewer were many as the sand which is by the sea shore for multitude, eating and drinking and making merry." Here, then, was a small country most densely peopled, yet rejoicing in abundance, filled with food and gladness, neither know ing nor fearing distress. To what shall we attribute it? Certainly not to a long course of prosperity, for when David commenced his reign the land was overrun by the Philistines who devoured its increase, oppressing and slaying the people, and nearly up to the time of their numbering, internal wars had perpetually interrupted the current of national prosperity. Colonies they had none; commerce was almost unknown to them ; they do not appear to have had manufactures sufficient for their own consumption. And yet " surplus population " would have sounded strangely in the ears of an Israelite! One of the main blessings promised to their obedience was, that there should be neither male nor female barren amongtha tfruitfulared tvine:he L children d wasren twereo l d counted without any distinction of classes as olive branches around the table—as arrows in the hand of a giant ; and his th w e i m fe . he was pronounced happy wno had his quiver full of them. should The man be as the whnfe Circumscribed as was the territory, each family being re stricted to its own lot, and prodigiously rapid as was the increase of population, the man who had ventured to talk of a "preventive check" would have stood a better chance of being stoned than eulogised.—Perils of the Nation. THE PUBLIC BUILDINGS IN CORK. — HaIf-a-dozen of the public buildings I saw were spacious and shabby be yond all Cockney belief. Adjoining the Imperial Hotel is a great, large, handsome, desolate reading room, which was founded by a body of Cork merchants and tradesmen, and is the very picture of decay. Not Palmyra —not the Russell Institution in Great Coram-street—present more melancholy appearances of faded greatness. Opposite this is another institution, called the Cork Library, where there are plenty of books, and plenty of kindness to the stranger; but the shabbiness and faded splendour of the place are quite painful. There are three handsome catholic churches commenced of late years: not one of them is complete. Two want their porticos ; the other is not more than thirty feet from the ground ; and, ac cording to the architectural plan, ,was to rise as high as a cathedral. There is an institution, with a fair library of scientific works; a museum, and a drawing school with a supply of casts. The place is in yet more dismal condition than the library. The plasters are spoiled in curably for want of a sixpenny feather brush; the dust lies on the walls, and nobody seems to heed it. Two shillings a year would have repaired much of the evil which has happened to this institution ; and it is folly to talk of inward dissensions and political differences as causing the ruin of such institutions. Kings or laws don't cause or cure dust and cobwebs ; but indolence leaves them to accumulate, and imprudence will not calculate its income, and vanity exaggerates its own powers, and the fault is laid upon that tyrant of a sister kingdom. The whole country is filled with such failures ; swaggering beginnings, that could not he carried through ; grand en terprises begun dashingly, and ending in shabby compro mises or downright ruin. —Irish Sketch Book. FIUME ON Rov-Ar. EXPENDITURE.—We understand that Mr. Hume is preparing a treatise on royal expendi ture, and that the basis of his calculations will be on the principle of his late astounding discovery that an annuity gfioaulo f e scissors a.r i t n i nT its hh ea d rightso individualhma some d d , i clippingffi we uio il t y si an a t n p d cr lei s sp l e i p e riv i n n i gn g g aatn hisad ." figure, with th e s t ump of a pen in its mouth, and a great pair dgvorient ;lt:though consciou s o f t h e close observation of file of Ro w d y J ournals ; and it was such a laughable excessive slicing Young g a e s n useat aforesaid o e r na e o s af a n i d tobacco, n a f t v t h e e r Rowdy ywhj nicv which juvenile el Journals, o w u a r sn appearance,aal ts that moment maanocilmueannlit wholesomely pale in the face ; partly, perhaps, from in tense thought, but partly, there is no doubt, from the chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt collar turned down over a black riband, and his lank hair —a fragile crop — was not only smoothed, and parted back from his brow, that none of the poetry of his aspect might he lost, but had here and there been grubbed up by the roots, which accounted for his loftiest developments being somewhat pimply. He had that order of nose on which the envy of manki n d h as bestowed the appellation " snub, and it was very much turned up at the end, as with a lofty scorn. Upon the, upper lip of this young gentleman were tokens of a sandy down—so very, very smooth and scant, that though encouraged to the utmost it looked more like a recent trace of gingerbread than the fair promise of a moustache ; and this conjecture his ap parently tender age went far to strengthen. He was in tent upon his work ; and every time he snapped the great pair of scissors he made a corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave him a very terrible appearance. Martin was not long in determining within himself that this must be Colonel Diver's son ; the hope of the family, and future mainspring of the Rowdy Journal. Indeed he had begun to say that he presumed this was the Colonel's little boy, and that it was very pleasant to see him play inc at editor in all the guilelessness of childhood, when the colonel proudly interposed, and said, " My war cor respondent, sir—Mr. Jefferson Brick I "—Adeentures of Martin Chuzzlewit, No. VII, 8 7 8 4 8 4 8 0 7 13 7 12 7 9 6 12 6 10 6 10 6 6 6 6 6 4 6'4 6 4 ARRIVALS OF CORN , •oitisi re June to the 3rd July,lBl3o' To "' • I COAST- ',ANADAI oN vri,ss• 10,14 $ l4 19 5956 • .4085316 1 I 40' lour .... Sacks, ~ , 4 5•1 litto ..... 1 , , 1 Into Runcorn, Ireland and Coast Wise: KO'. larley, - Malt, 8 qrs. ; Oats _lc q rs.; th 0'... Shellee Indian Rapese Oatme, Oatmeal, 5606 36 3411 675 ,„is qrs.; Bola , incl; sl '.. ,lrv , Beans, __ qr; .'•; a i r qics, P e ase lii'' Ids. ; Flour, --- - : ‘o ..••• c o, ; Average prices of Gr i a d i g n, i 40 qrs. ; Barley, -- (I"• datli te.446 ' " Indian Corn, 29 qrs• ; v o i eat , ige , / .—CoastWise• , 0 qrS• ; dot qrs.; Oats, .10diao,05. 9. qrs. ; p ea se, 21 qrs• ; 3,,s 1511 Wheat 495. Sd. I Barley 270. 7d. I Oats lt ' l l . d. j, Beans.. 295. 4ci. I Pease.. 3 0 '• us , g o ate average of the Si% n e . e l y e 27s 5d I Oats iss ~,, 0' Duty on Foreign Grain, Sic. this wee Iti e ' • l o° Wheat 20sod I Barle Y sOd I Oats Coro • , o d ~ 50 , ~10.0 A‘ Beans l-I. 6a 1 Pease.. Its tid I Ind. Os ~ , pO. 09. 0 ; • ii Ditto from British Colonies out is Pd9.TitleoiLf SO 275. 7d. I Pease.. 29 3 . " u. 0 5.0 foFrlotuhre, v„2,3e6eksaccakdSirie,c Jilyee;,. %iv Wheat.. ss. Od. I Barley.. 2s. 6d. I Oats • • 2s* Od. I ° Beans 3s. ed I Pease 3s. Od. I Indian Corn Os• go, i s43 l ; e oe. Liverpool Averages, week ending Jutee;ns• l4, Wheat. 1 Barley. Oats. '- 15 OP Qrs... 327 217 g Oa. Prices I 455. 7d. 00s. Od. 175. sdl 30-• EXPORTS 9T. 4 '..! C-00 ,—Foreign. Whea Pease, qrs. ; Oatmeal, land. Wheat, Beans, qrs. ; Flour, sacks Barley, qrs.; qrs. ; Beans, 5 rs. ; Oatmeal, I Wheat 48s 4CI Barley Beans.. l io n a i ut a ri mane/ impo s sibilities , s withoutc ond chii chop limit (I t o l_a u t r c io s s p u a tno c t ' s er i) . y „, tab; b li sfo r t ne : 6 l I EX RAORDINARY POWER OF TOE l'Ti ot iga''' , omEtty: T gei l llr l io e srdhs C ame h eh i n n a.s e sien the distinguish spi n e ~ the American,ergisas:li seev 0 ditlegi c fr , 1 ,1 " BATING 1-loLLow."—" What an ext ra c r aae el r it' y, to an Irish groom : can Yo u r able' bel f, ,A " By the powers. sir, and to be sure I u l t , pe tY;teht d "' heard, sir, that before the baste was You r P -13 iv - o° . backed against an Irish horse, your hononet_s back hollow, and I dare say it's the raiser that Pi I, got straight again." „ L s Of 1 10 0 1 A gentleman engaged in taking the eetis-t be rti a 7 vine informs the editor of the Kentockiao then ea tl on' t " h i r fe e timese he ilad ;10b,yahnids 12 2 rs b t ywhiifse last o h l e d ; w h a l l t ra l a,cl au bl 4 b o to: ltil i e g : a a r a e c ns n r d o c , s ro s et a cm n a n d a m i tn a h he n e i d s a " : . nr w h e o i a, f wife is a i s s t i e now ears n a roo s t interest an d 13 8 i' l l eg' Twenty-three of his children are boys, b ears' IS t i b tsti o lreK y l s ",i a r n oi d „ girls tr 6 ,NiNpoD T t are i E lAiviionug..,:Tl eisnaparie.d_ion,ell, fae(erth; wouldn't—if seeing him greatly exhausted towards t , 0 v erl o i e, , performance, offered him some vvhiskey b l y " v ca wi t, o ti , thistle-glass, saying, at the same time , ta lte, t ;rtfot couragement, " Take that, Mr. ICe 3 ., u , ' ne ver 'Lae it It is the real mountain-dew ; that wio• , ca at gotO This q 0 a re; QUEEN ELIZABETII'S• KINDRED. ...f tbe •„ 1 4 4 . numerous maternal relations, and roarlYX, arisl;abl;',, lo st y a t a e .if i e jo b ge e s e is tr o:el the inferior gentry, particularly her father having selected for his second l e blomigeO t ba of no very elevated extraction ; whi t lat itnterto,°,rtbotod Boleynes was widely diffused bY to e "" ( 10 0 '10(4 lie f n irne tim soov e ce i i •o ree u tdy s junior branches. Thereof 0 , 0„ 00'40' e el queen chose to repress the claims " :0 beggl ie l a oi r L rne ' pi E tlti s ee t dd ra ,t n o, g , reFfoerprnorieemealtnadtef grant o f h e i r t , be thato , when r an ee , t o b a 11 10 majesty, and pretended kindred a nd ' t o keep me a beggar." BRUNELIANA.—Now that Mr • •,-- -° v ve 10- ~,' co• 1,0 6 repeat the his subject. fse: lately tt h. utmost rhu nave ei astonishment half-sovereigno uld d owou ltdh sticking that : s e l l ; i i t iO e n 't :r o g ikt:e g e i a i nseal .g et ch ar t❑l h e ta ii ta a L i o ri e 6: t I : rf ; o r ::; 41 00 " Brodie should be found willing that t t, i best t ele c° o l o sovereign; another purported the e for e ors 00 a s° l a 0, 5 0,1 and the third that the most likely- I:, / o tiot,', 0 0 lics would be some expert pefiliekisp(aoeidcakna widowhood e t iC .. t s, N% thr° B ' ' AA the person addressed. From the diffleuotiolal" to be a very stingy intißristol *learn VI VC°' e ti TATTERSALL 'S Tfttoj bus iae or ol o o f f The room was thinly attended, an •tie' s G pte lit SPORTING _____INTE.LLIC opi,f. so cow oa a t o n n he d a o . ohutdo : 4 ° 4 l , $I 0° O a the Goodwood Cup. i v•- 1( 0- 0 The Newcastle Meeting has attracte the ir r ot/ e vo fluential speculators ; however, dorm'_d la _ a a ao a . pencils have not been allowed to sluliiate;rr igfifaf; the "tips" on Wednesday gagements upon the Northumbel,Xese hois'eatroogootrof l of ag 4 st to m l r a . g jsotbCnostloonneelsClorri _ oe 0. t m o e 4 et o in n g th th e is t% f v o o re w no a o s n l:id , be suerfluous to dwell upon; so" .. o f th 4 0 , in to ta loa v events of the week, M;:t:oll.laEdsel.. Elcegais103::::;:°1: t ll° to of 'ne -7 to 1 Pagan, and 8 to 1 the w in p a 1 4 0 LIVERPOOL C. k we 111001 At the commencement of tbe i i v ii9il we fin the foi 0 of the proceedings :- Iff7f-et:ro‘oslvehrae:lg i n ra f t i l i :e rf r i i thatr.Btrhuarl floit: :l:. 0, ~iip. 300 9 200 6 ----- potV 3tia ltini tie vie 100 4 --- - whistleef the 100 4 --- Queen lI I° • tle 100 —4 -- TiWe f the if bt 0 so le 2009 t_o 1 1 a 0 g_ _____s t NjAhvioarr r e n i e t debss Agreeable v 0 1 f t 11 200 8 ----- ' , lig; h i na -a-o 100 4 ----- ,9,, ic „, e ,1" 100 4 ---- 1 "" - 100 40 3 —- 2 -- Prior t if a' i' tt'4wis can isci vi K i dose — " r e i a o n i „Li t; Ili r that assaeoisngrt dfhliP( 'ri'l,ll, ,leilienYeell'eril''oitut,:oeellife°,9olool;lo:tbsirlso;ift N to e T b w h e the latest eg lmembers tion e.at room was compl:3l:nGteSd:v7M9:::setclh;litb_tp:• 1 rsede:::s be lII_ ot t o t e j took place upoo the even : I P' 10°' Bred env; .ider be coll .. Newcastle. Tlse following rnal aenmoeff,dbers:.tbreeseLaitvewreproe:o,fe_vbeies soot, de 0001 THv.saroot. cup' E. o 9 to 1 on the field. 9 1 agst PornPef, 9 1 Aristotl 148v4rt," 15 1 --- 1 ----- any other 1, 16 There THE ST. 1 an; .S 11.„ rotif was no betting worthy 01 A THIRD E-DITION. Standard-office, Three o'clock' COTTON MARKET.—Tasss o'cLo e w s . t t i h mated at 2500 to 3000 bales, s les st/ Rather more business in Cotton to -day. P e-8 Ac es, a steadier tone and feeling in the market. at yesterdsY's P' LIVERPOOL CORN EXCHANGE'rra 15 <From Messrs. R. Makin & Sons' Circular') tlrriep T vipia h n e yd arrivals into this port, for the week eildi ' lg i ll : t i e; os d uf ay G , arll in ; include a moderate quantity of Whe at ' scit'l, l o° BrAittisho,uwr which h rk w e a t s p th a i r s tia m ll o y r , ning adyvalan last, te a o n f d 2 F d o t r o e i 3 g d a of Malt, e A h la a l v t e , Otoatmnoetailc,ea,nhdoFwleovuerr,,Coa i f ts e tviivs33sB:l`;j::: whilst ,and 7 8 0f 43 articleso bp.w t ae h rr e hr r e7eloaitbowsf Fl 0 ur, thencefro thefrom c L l : na c d e 3 1 P :a - ree l ' 4 the first imports of the season from that quart". 'tie9°l da with on the part of millers • the transactions, th e ' veil were but e sa les limited in amount ' . , and had eaten ,Ft practicable, little beyond the improved rates o fr ioc tir would have m ost 'l a ir io lions, however, being in fair demand, Eatrt 4ll : ll , CO' realised 6d 6d to is per sack, and States,,as /l e° 3- dian, ' r 110 01 per barrel above our last quotdtions, a' Barley, .continuing to meet a ready sale, At'•-• pet 4 tamed Friday's dearer. amendment; i ' o l e d h g n t h eh m t led r h ea e g il uetc rath ern u s, it e r a r a r li e s t l n fl i . yi q l s, mi I ,c t i o lif rot i ' A l e 1 ; fa t re :: cut O s a o t : thaeil ß cnie e do a n n a s tql an i. d nq P u e ir a y se, upon a moderate retail do lan f u a i d t v e a a n s ce hi o g f h i t d er p m e s r a4ss:absst;waenedk.oatrue3l,..unperit: e f re tolerable • • Irish' s i hn commanding ni extremely awnadsi n scarce and more saleable, 00 gag2aoisn. 9 r d a . t perhe r 2 la.brSer 5" MONTHLY ACCOUNT of i • s r ad Du pe , ipto and Stocks on ha ' • • • •- I m 9 " 019 nd In Lzverpool, , Q _l3, , Cor Liverpool from the Ist to the 30th June , sr,, h a na , 504 qrs.W h a t i , { 37 3 e 5 , 8 5 1 — n Wheat, 1000 qrs. ; Flour, 183 brls. 1 3 / I " s o a ts, l i ' t• Imports, ate° .no ial W h e a t , q 1 : 2 r55 ,.6 : 0 . 5 .88 q e aa r r s ni . se ; 9 B i a i33 r Barley, rysci.r7:l.; i3F Pease, . lo ; au3o: :. b. ..p i a;; d . 0 g o, i ci a meal,Cooti Liverpool from the lst to the 30th June,lB43' , 61) ( r e s , Pease, 46 ys. Colonials ~....4 59 1 0 u q r r . s . 6 ; 94 Flour, b ris. 14 s , 770 k b rlfso.--ral:no:IFootilretl: ; Inaian Cor t n, • 328 qrs. ; • l' in t ioe' toc s_ 9 ,-,01, 3 . Oa . ; 00,1 In Lond—.-WI :ct 24;2 ore main ;Er rl 28 4: 0 2 1 8 3 q q z..l J p 3 e a as e e y: 20 747635qq0, ; )095 'liarrels DESCRIPTION. LAND Wheat, Barley, Malt Oats.. , aye . ~ Qrs. Qrs: Qrs. Qrs. Qrs. 264 I 3096