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

.y2.itcraturr. POETRY MY PAS: oR'S VOICE (For the Liverpool Standard ) I love to hear my p tst,r's voice the sound is truly sweet, This message from the Lord he briogs,—`• 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 ferven zeal. I love to hear my pasto'r's voice, the sound is very dear, I hail it as the voice of God, 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 love to hear my pastor's voice, through him, as from above A Saviour speaketh words of peace, of never dying love 0, Lord of Life ! 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 r.car 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 tidi gs of great joy from thee our Prophet, Priest, and King. Roscommon-street E.M. he following beautiful and affecting lines, by COWPER, the bard of freedom, morality, and re:igion, have not been generally printed in the edition of his works. They derived au increased interes' 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.—[En, 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 Albion'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 de;ith a lasting strife, Supported by (E.:..p,0r or life. He shouted : t:or his friends had failed To check the vessel's course, But so furious the blast prevail'd . That, pitiless per force% They left their outeftst mate behind, And scudded stilt jefore the wind. Some succour yet they c , uld afford, And such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow • Bat he, they knew, nor ;hip, 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 die Deserted, and his frierid;;o 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!" At length, his transient respite past, His comrades, who before Had heard his v , ice in every blast, Could catch the sound no more; For then by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. CARDINAL DE RETZ, THE COURTIER'S PLOT. BY PETER POPJOY, E6l (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 Netre 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 like the stronghold of some warlike chieftain than the calm and peaceful home of a studious ecclesiastic. Here it was that the numerous escort of Paul de Goudi 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 arrival. The driver mut tered a few words, and was ordered to pass on In do ing so the scholar enquired if the Coadjutor had 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 coming in the library. Good night." So saying, be 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 fatigued. 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 he 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. Discitejustitiam moniti." " You flatter me, Sir Scholar," said the Coadjutor, with an assumption of modesty. " The plan is thine, and thou bast 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 P 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 P" "I have no tseen her face yet it has been too dark to see any tning ; ou twho 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 • " a tine crowning of your handy work you h ave made indeed, by bringing a petticoat into the cloisters of Notre Dame." - " My lord," replied the Scholar, timidly, " she would not leave Mons. de Croissi, and—he would not leave her • so I—l relied on your usual kindness of heart to—" "A pest upon you and your suppositions," cried Gondi, pacing the chamber rapidly to and fro. " You have done well, Master Eustache ; and yet you have put me in a most awkward predicament. To juggle the young gentle man out of the hands of his stupid brother was nothing but 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 Montglat'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, cardial," continued the Coadjutor; " this evening, after 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 diers. 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 scrape. 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 she 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 South, my lord, and—" " True, true," interrupted Paul de G,A;idi, 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, hut my lord ; consent only to see them but a moment." " For what purpose ?" " For—for—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 p os iti on o f th e t wo young people about to appear before him. Vireton ran out of the chamber, and the next moment returned w!th his proteges. They entered with slow steps, and made the prelate a silent salutation. Elizabeth v'sibly trembled as she leant upon Fabien's arm; the emotions and sorrows of the d,.y 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 de Gondi, was neither the effect of abstraction nor hypocrisy ; in the midst of his pleasures 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 day before yesterday you saved my life, in rescuing me from the bands of the en raged populace ; yesterday you snatched me from the terrible anger of the Queen ; nevertheless I yet dare to implore your powerful intererence 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 be 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—l, 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 he 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 difficu . lt 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 P and if I were to leave these walls, would it not be possible for you to give Fabien an asy lum ? " " 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 ?" 44 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 hut hear me, my lord ?" cried Eli zabeth warmly. " The frightful position in which I found myself was surely a sufficient excuse. N o one knows what Fabien has suffered through me, and for my sake: no one can tell what bitter 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 Fahieu with a p ure aff ection, 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 thought me unkind ; but I had not forgotten him. He doubtless accused me of ingratitude. Oh ! did he but know what I suffered, when that proud wo man whom I thought my benefactress--" 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 attempt to excuse either her faults or those of—of her daughter ; and if I confess to you my thoughts, 1 have often pitied you to find you placed at the mercy of Madame de Chevreuse." " Alas ! my lord, it is but too true. She asserted over me a strange domination, at which I have often blushed. For fear that I should find an escape from her tyranny, she watched my simplest actions. My affection for Fabieu gave her great offence. She forba le in,. writo4 4 to Normandy. The day I ventured to transgre:ls that order, she shewed me my lt , tter intercepted." " Poor Eliz•theth ! " 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 worid which would have converted the affianced ma d into an ingrate, would have made the intr. 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 night, see ing him pursued—despairing—a fugitive—could I have abandoned him, when all the evils heaped upon him are of my creation ? Do not think that in quitting the p a _ lace I did so from a wish to elude the deserved punish. ment the Queen has awarded me; hut 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 ; " I 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 your enemies. I 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 o ut difficulty." 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 ahead); 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." " Sly 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 the charge of 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, Master Scholar here will see you well bestowed. Adieu till 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 ?" " I only wish to know if I have not worthily served you, my lord ?" "- Right well, and you richly deserve reward; and I will fulfil my promise ; but before I bestow nn 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 chew 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 otir 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 loving.".. • " I she is fair, and asYou 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 I 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 P but 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 personte met Kith 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. 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 celebrated 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 Colling 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 Teeswater 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 bas 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 ha s bee n muc h co ntroversy, 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. HUBBACK," THE SIRE OF THE SHORT-HORNED BREED. — 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. The quality of his flesh, hide, and 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" differs in some particulars THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. .rout one that has reacned us from another quarter. Ac ordiug to the latter, th e an i ma l narrowly escaped b e i ng 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 flarrowgate, on the high road to Darlington. Being struck by its appearance he bought it for his son-in-law, by 'utiom it was reared, until pur chased by Mr. R. Coiling and Mr. Waistell, as already mentioned. Previously to buying it Mr. 2. 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 bargaia was effected. As before stated, the mimal was shortly afterwards transferred to Mr. C. Col. ling for its original price of £B, who was highly &lighted 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 life. 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. Balmer 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 ; On the 13th of ,Tune for £1000; On the Bth of July for £2OOO, EFFECT OF CROSSING BREEDS.—It iS a well ascer tained fact, that, during his career as a breeder, Mr. Coi ling tried several experiment!, 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 and 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 war such as to render the experiment still more safe. Add to this, that they could be 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. 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 suppose by tumefaction' you me 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 Hite, who told her he would make all right for her, and trust ber liber ality. He prepared two wills—one in favour of the bro ther, and another baqueathing the property to his wife. The first was read over to the dying man : but before it was signed by the testator and witnesses, he rang the the changes, so that the widow became the sole object of his bounty. The brother suspected foul play and fraud, but 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, conf e ss e d the whole, declaring that she bad 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 Byte inquired of the wife whether he bad 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-aide and read the will to the corpse, and having done so, he caught a live fly, which hr put into the mouth of the dead man, and topic 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 confession, 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 i p t a b rt r y ok w e a u s p s , ta t y h ing elaadtieLs,od onr A le s a h v t i o n w g n t ' h s e ; d a i n n d in t g h - e ta d b a l y before e,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, pretendi n g 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 just 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 lk, 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 be 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 butterfly, born in a bower," to the great delight of his fair auditors. It should per baps 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 ship s t ra di ng t o t h e E ast I n di es 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, be was determined to make a christian trial of her temper and disposition, and there fore one morning filled his pockets full of gold and silver, in order that if any object presented itself in the course of their tour over London Bridge, he 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 band 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 when they were gone a little further towards the bridge-foot, she turned to him and said, " Sir, do you know what you did a few minutes ago ? " " Madam, a w n h d a what for replied Mr. Col s t o n, " I never let my right hand k now although he lived to the age of 85.—Bristol Journal . myt this s t t r e h a a s n o d n de e v t e h r . ' m ' a i r ] r e i e t d h e t n o t t o h o e k d hayisolefahviesodfell:tebr: SECOND EDITION. Standard-office, Three o'clock. CHIEF CONSTABLE. A meeting of the Watch Committee was held to-day for the purpose of selecting a proper person to recommend to the Council as successor to Mr. Whitty. From a pa ragraph in another part of our paper it will be seen that Mr. Miller, Captain Whitty, and Mr. Shepperd were selected by the sub-committee as persons suitable for the office, and one of whom they recommended the general committee to appoint. After a short discussion as to the merits of the respective candidates, a division took place, when it was resolved, by a majority of twenty-one to three, to recommend Mr. Miller for the appoint ment, and we congratulate the gentleman on his success. LIVERPOOL COTTON MARKET.—Tnts DAY The inquiry for Cotton to-day has been :inore exten sive, and several speculators are operating, so that we cannot correctly get at the amount of business done; at present we may safely write upon 4,000 bales, at very full prices, fully one-half of it on speculation. LIVERPOOL CORN EXCHANGE, Tins DAY <From Messrs. R. Makin Sr Sons' Circular.) Prevented by adverse winds, the imports of all Grain up to Friday were very inconsiderable, and though subse quently increased from the English Coast and Ireland, are still collectively but moderate : from the latter source, however, we have to note a further good supply of Oat meal and Flour; the arrivals of Foreign produce during the week comprising 2403 qrs. of Wheat from the South of Europe, including 993 qrs. Wheat, with 1070 barrels of Flour from the United States, and 230 qrs. of Pease from Danzig. In consequence of the indifferent state of the Wheat trade in the leading markets of this district towards the close of last week, and a slender attendance of buyers from the country at our Corn Exchange today, we have to report a very limited sale for Wheat of all descriptions ; and though fine qualities continued to be held at our last quotations, the ordinary runs of English, Irish, and Foreign were rather depressed in value. Flour remained in the same languid state as on Friday, and was generally the turn cheaper. Barley and Malt, being nearly without enquiry, were each Is. per qr. lower. Beans and Pease upon a moderate retail demand, fully supported the rates of this day se'n night. Oats moving sparingly into the hands of consumers, receded id. per 451 b. ; and Oatmeal, at a decline of 3d. to 6d. per 2401 b., was extremely difficult to sell. ARRIVALS OF CORN, From the 20th to the 26th Feb., 1844, inclusive, 1 IRE- COAST , CANADA 7°- LAND. WISP:. REIGN. I TOTAL ---- '------- --.-- - Wheat .. ... Ors. 1 761 1 269 , 3396 4426 Barley Qrs. ! 5 611 616 Malt Qrs. i 6g 1176 1245 Oats Qrs . i 2545 1132 3677 Rye Qrs. , Beans Qrs .l 35 35 SPheaelsleedßarleyQOrrss.. 207 j 230 437 Indian Corti. Qrs. Rapeseed Qrs. Oatmeal .. Loads 6180 18 6198 Flour. .... Sacks ; 6467 926 ! 7393 Ditto Brls. 7 lO7O 1077 Into Runcorn, Ireland and Coastwise, Wheat, 272 qrs. ; Malt, qrs. ; Oats, 2599 qrs.; Beans, qrs.; Oatmeal, 5254 loads; Flour, gos sacks. EXPORTS.—Foreign. Malt, qrs. ; Oats, 50 qrs. ; Pease, qrs.; Indian Corn, 0 qrs.; Oatmeal, loads ; Flour, g brls.--Ireland Wheat, 843 qrs. ; Beans, qrs ; Indian Corn, 333 qrs. ; Oatmeal, loads; Flour, sacks, 0 In's.— Coastwise. Wheat, 124 qrs. ; Barley, 19 qrs. ; Malt, qrs.; Oats, qrs.; Beans, 0 qrs.; Pease, ICO qrs.; Indian Corn, qrs. ; Flour, 164 sacks 171 brls. Average prices of Grain, for the week ending Feb. 17, 1844. Wheat 535. 6d. I Barley 335. 4d. I Oats 19s. 6d. I Rye 335, sd. Beans.. 30s. 6d. I Pease.. 31s. Id. Aggregate average of the six weeks. Wheat 52s 2d I Barley 33s 4d I Oats 193 Od. Rye 32s lld Beans.. 295. 10d, j Pease.. 30s. 9d. Duty on Foreign Grain, &c. this week. WheatlBs Od I Barley 5s Od I Oats .. . 7s Od I Rye.. lOs 6d Beans Is Sd I Pease .. 10s 6d I n d. C orn Os Od Flour los 10d Ditto from British Colonies out of Europe. Wheat_ is. od. I Barley.. os. 6d. I Oats ..2s. Od. I Rye.. is 6d Beans 35. od I Pease 2s. Od. I Ind. Corn os. Od. i Flour.. Os 74d Liverpool Averages, week ending Ferbuary 20, 1844. Wheat, 1864 qrs., price 515. lid. Oats, 300 qrs., price 19s 3d. 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 put on the soil of this country, is more than 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, from transportation to eighteen months imprisonment. WASTE LANDS.—The largest quantity of waste land in any county in England is in the North Riding of York shire, there being nr , 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., and 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 Woolwich, was commissioned on Monday for Com ma , r e o l c s e h e de coast.— Freeman's tom a fi n u d iesrh the F ra z s e u r r , v o e fy of e i C u o i y m h e e t a , d w a h u o d Freeman's Journal. FATAL ACCIDENTS.—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. FATAL 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 expect 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 Brachia, 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 left 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 The late weigh upwards of 5001bs.—Chester Chronicle. RUNCORN.—On Wednesday last, Job Millington, lat e asistant to Mr. William Harding, deputy-constable of O h v e ered Runcorn, was brought before the magistrates, at War. which be was rfngton, for having embezzled several sums of money , oung ones, all wh A ile f e e m w p d l a o y y s ed p i r n ev c i o o l u le s c t t o ing th r e at co es in fo m r e M nc r e . m H en ar t d do i fi n s g et prisoner was committed to take his trial at the next quarter sessions, to be holden at Knutsford. — Doncaster A girl, only twelve Knight's years eemu severe maaorroisri vgyoi s, nl w tdgs, e ,ai a t nautqahaumet bird aeren, named pity s a l iLn l aeo a arsf b dyt oy, stone Lea containing rnae Johnson, employed aaoinpeartnidnins og rubbish,n,Worksop,i threel aisn beenl r. committed of M themu MURDERS s a R l alive ande ßy A y ap o p u zi N re G nt e ly in d L o D in : w e l 1 . Gazette. to Lincoln Gaol, charged with the ' Daniel Farr, her half-broth murder of William and brothers, aged eight an d five by poisoning them with arsenic, at B • had bought at the shop of entnuton which she Mr. Overton, of Boston. ' said that the prisoner has lt made aimplicatingis other persons, confession Feb, 27, 18447_ ha DISTRESSI NG SUICIDE.—On Sunday week, M •r• jO • jet , Hutchinson, of "The Raven Inn," near WOlCeStert urinated his existence by means of a goo with sparrow shot, which he discharged into his bod h 3 1 1 , 0 ) 0 • below his hear t, the whirl, of the charge P"sing scatteredt and coming out of his back ; the shots were about the c•‘.ilirrg of his oed room, where the stdc , 7„,, committed. The deceased was much addicted to dri from the effects of v. loch he has suffered from an of delirium tremens, which diseaae no, unfrequentlYP__!, duces mental aberration, and which, it is supposed, us' the result in his case. ROCOSi I TAKING TUE VElL.—This ceremony of -_ n o . Catholic Church was performed on Thursday, at th e b B, man Catholic Chapel, Bermondsey, the Rev. Dr. Grip'. f e Titular Bishop of the metropolitan district, offici,atp , assisted by Messrs. Beautnan, North, Avelan, Kay? e ° l "h, G. Rolfe, Hersnep, Telford, J. O'Neil, Rymer, Vi r sl t , Kelly, &c. A most numerous congregation was pres,.,, The young noviciate was Miss Crudden, about tge. ll , three years of age, and of considerable personal attractlae"s, She has been in the convent about six months, and t he pressed the most ardent desire to be admitted int° religious order of the " Sisters of Mercy." heavily ?spa; • " Two OF A TRADE."—In our marr i age no tices Is ooe t , which reco r d s th e nup ti a l s o f M r. C arter, " the king," on Sunday last, to Miss Chapman, of this,tolel:; The old adage, that " two of a trade never agree ; for once disproved, by th e f ac t t h at M r. C ar ters e e r.„ brated rival, Mr. Van Arnburgh, officiated as grnora.' man on the occasion. We understand that the rie° l :; trepid brute-tamers are intimate friends ; and perhelle.., they are the only t wo i n th e i r per il ous tra d e , they 111 t; above all petty jealousies, and their only rivalry is as f who shall most fea r l ess " moc k t h e lion when he roars prey ;" or as Shakspeare elsewhere says, " make leoeer tame." SUICIDE AT BLACKFRIAR'S BRIDGE.—About ba past two o'clock on Friday morning, a respectably dressed woman, about 25 years of age, was observed the policeman on duty to be lingering about the bridge L if waiting for some o n e. Sh e was seen at t h e a bove ti" by City police-co ns t a bl e 329, w h o h av i ng pass ed b: ; about 20 yards, saw her deliberately mount the parapet " the bridge near the centre, on the east side, and Plant e into the river. He ga v e an a l arm , b ut i n consequene,e, the boats being secured, considerable delay took and before he could reach her she had sunk, and vases' . ried away by the stream. IMPORTANT TO EMIGRANTS . —M a th ew Somerv ille, emigration agent in Oswald-street, Glasgow, was, 812 , August last, brought b e f ore t h e P olice -court, char ged with fraudulently obtaining money from several Pt; Highland emigrants on the pretext of securing passer; for them in the vessel Ayrshi re , th en a b out to sail let Liverpool for Quebec. The ca se came on fi na l ly f or tria l on the 16th instant, before the justices for Lanarkshir e ' when Sommerville was convicted u n d er th e statute, 5111". jetted in £2O of penalties, with costs, and his licenses!! broker declared forfeited. Those poor persons, after the posing of their little property, and proceeding to pool in the expectation of getting their passage, we obliged to return to Colonsay, after losing their all/ Glasgow Herald. HONOURABLE CONDUCT.—A rare, but beautiful il l ' stance of mercantile integrity. was related to us the other day. We take the liberty of publishing it, as an priate act of homage to virtue, and as furnishing an illus trious example for other men in similar circumstanee s .„' In the spring of 1813, Mr. J o h n St ans fi e ld , of Greeabo" in Glusburn, worsted spinner, w as compelled to CO' pound with his creditors for 13s. 6d. in the pound. I le removed to Halifax ; and ever since, one of the main ob' jects of his life and labours, has been to realize the mean s of paying off the remaini ng 6 s . 6d. i n th e poun d , o n t" respective debts. By the bl ess i ng o f Providence, 11°- , ' been enabled to fulfil this cherished purpose, and al! Monday last, the creditors, resident in Bradford, receir,e,' their proportion from the h an d s o f M r . S tans fi e ld' s saw citors.—Bradford Observer. MANIFOLDING.—A few days ago, a person in rb,, 14 town, carrying on an ex t ens i ve b us i ness, hi t upon tu, following plan for raisin g th e w i n d. H e h e ld a h an k Ow for £5O, which he cut in two, and taking one of the P° rte tions to an acquaintance informed him that he had just received it by post, the other portion being to fallow 1 " the course of a day or two ; but, as he wanted the moue/ immediately, he could not wait for its arrival. This friell in need, on receiving the h a lf- no t e , a d vance d t h e cash; and another friend did the same on receiving the other half. Here were a hundred pounds made out of fifty ; but the business was not yet completed. Taking his ill; dred pounds to one of the banks, he procured a note 'I that amount, and having again recourse t o th e process ,S; cutting, actually obtaine £2OO on the two halves, ici'" which he decamped, and has not yet been heard of. - Hull Rockingham. SALE OF THE LATE REV. Wax. GADSBY'S EFFEC I.S. —On Monday. the household furniture and effects of the late Rev. W. G a d s b y , m i n i ster o f the Baptist Ch a Pe; St. George's-road, M anc h es t er , were b roug h t t o the hammer. The sale was nu merous ly a t ten d e d by the friends of the deceased ; a n d ever y ar ti c l e so ld f or a goo ' price ; some of the lots, inde e d, wen t o ff at very extra: ordinary figures. Amongst them we may enume rate" ; old birch arm-chair, worth a b ou t 6 5 ., w hi c h so ld I° , £4 2s. ; a common ash walki ng - s ti c k, no t wort h 10( ! i i than 3d., was knocked do wn f or 7 s . ; a h o ll y walkinvotie, fetched £1 is. ; a silver-mounted cane , w hi c h wa s P ifer sented to the deceased ab ou t t wo y ears ago , was , af ter much competition, knocked do wn t o M r . John Gadsby for £6 12s. ; the po r t ra it o f th e deceasei.,,, Benson, was also bought by Mr. J. Gadsby, for X: 44 ,;.; silver pencil-c a se f etc h e d £1 ; a pair of spectacle. 0; a German silver p enc il case , va l ue a b out 4d., obtainea v 6 price of 65.; and a pair o f razors £ 1 A por tsb . mahogany writing de s k, a ft er a sp i r i ted competition , w a! bought by a grandson of the deceased, a twelve years of age , f or XI 14 s. you th about in investigating a et2,l, t r a A t e T s T o E f m against Richard Wilkinson for attempting to murder w% Burnley were lington Moorhouse, under-gamekeeper for Mr. F? 1 ,`... The injured man (who was unable to attend) with oth e r companioos was passing the prisoner's door about eleve: w u e ß r n e ß o ß c . c — up O ie n d Monday last the magis; o'clock on Sunday night, at the village of Simonsto%; singing hymns; and when be got about 40 yards past house, he was heard to exclaim " Oh Dick has stoic me" ; upon whi c h th e pr i soner was observed running .° his house, having on at the timeonly his shirt. He ( the prisoner) was followed by one of the party named Ssg li n f t : who on getti ng t o t h e d oor found it locked. A Per% was despatched to Padiham for the police, when, in course of an hour, he was taken into custody. searching the prison er a k n if e was found with which b acknowl e d ge d h e h a d stabbed Moorhouse, and on sear s ing the house a hole in the wall which was made up loose stones) a small dagger was found, also a long st' c _s into one end o f w hi c h the dagger fitted by a screvb" Blackburn Standard. SINGULAR SUICIDE OF A CHILD.—On Monday' gt the Man c h es t er I n fi rmary, an i nquest was held be for e Mr. Chapman, on the body of a child seven years of age; named Henry Somerville, who committed suicide unde r the following circumstances :—lt appeared that the c' e i ceased was the son of Joseph Somerville, labourer. William-street Salford, and wa s su bj ec t t o extrao rdito, r ' e fits of passi o n, o n the slightest occasions, an d i n w hich P t usually threatened t o b urn hi mse lf. O n F r id ay n i g ht he had been irritated, and under the influence of passw o placed his head up on th e fi re . Hi s s i ster, a g i r l c lef% years of age, endeavoured to pull him awa y, w hen 1 ; 4 pushed a part of his clothes into the grate, and they caeg,'; o fire. Mrs. Wright, widow, w ith w h om th e decease,' parents lodged, hearing screams went into the room Imp mediately, and caught hold of him in order to extingu ip the flames. He struggled to ge t awa y f rom he r; butt, e about three minutes, she su ccee d e d i n d o i ng so , an d t'; e deceased was taken to the. Salford Dispensary , and tbenp to the Infirmary, where he died on the following day ~1 . 0 was stated, that he had freque n tly th rea t ene d t o 1)1 14 himself, when his schoolmaster h a d c h as ti se d hi m , or P' t to t playfellows he effe effect, t irritated tha t him th e d ; deceasedand the supposition estro y ed himself was he was not of s oun d mind. The jury retu rne d a vel d burning, during insanity. ..,1 CANINE SAGA CITY—L IRE SAVED. -- On Satm- 14 i 0 week, the inhabitants of a small hamlet situated betw ee Dunkeld and Pitlo c h r y, were t h rown into the utmost or, sternation by the sudden disappearance of a very l, raising child about f our years of age. She had been In, ing about the d oor o f t h e cottage, and had strayed twifie without being perceived, about twilight. What mauf w g, case more distressing, th e groun d was covere d w i t h 3 " .40 and the country round was wild and bleak, while th!iir pidly falling snow would soon obliterate all traces 01 _ a l e little footsteps. After se ar chi ng f or severa l hoU!! , ,w faithful dog was also missing. He had been the au u i s auwere atogatinheomn,taheslseeeaPl: child, and relying o 0 P be s p o a i r a t t y jon,t returnedhoug though home poor o tired o r one, n and e to o th n e e . o . o 4 7 e . ? se es o r f r bd a cef c os onsiderable time spent in anxious and pat companion and playmate of the nt and before rendered more difficult by the i sn t - ed had fallen during the night, their ears were e a t's. fidelity and sagacity, they felt a gleam of hope amid i t eo despair. After rlyAdfateurm passing, , darknessfnwsviiiwhen, eihcnethi exa mination, by the joyful sound of the bark of a dog at some little u s .., tance. All their distress and fatigue were soon forgott; and on hurrying to the spot, they found the child un bli a l, who, it seemed, being and sound asleep in the embraces of the faithful 1 1,01 remained faithful as her guardian the whole night.- - -r` Courier. unable to bring her borne, b! MELANCHOLY ACCIDENT.—An inquest was h e 11 12.41, Monday la s t, i n Cottle, on the bodies of Robert Dusu; l l aged 20 ye ars, and Jeremiah Fletcher, aged 16 9c . 4 0 ; Duxbury was th e mate o f a b oat used for carrying s'aie on the Leeds and Liverpool canal, and Fletcher we e p' half brother of the captain of the same boat. On o g, day afternoon the boat was going to Foulridge for tit ° o o. and they arri ve d a t t h e F ou l r id ge tunnel a litt l e after ot, This tunnel is a m il e i n l engt h, an d t h e b oats arf, lo o l through by means o f persons pus hi ng one on eac h st' t be the boat. Tattersall, the captain, took the horse tu b ast other end o f th e t unne l, to b e i n rea di ness for t.,ilieebOr i' when it sh on ld ge t th roug h, l eav i ng D ux b ury and L e t s fore; to push the bo a t th roug h, as th e y h a d o f ten done 'for Some persons who were waiting a t th e en d h ea rd P,_e in talking in the tunnel, and shortly a ft er h ear d a sPnbef the water. On Tattersall, the captain, coming "P' ta o mentioned the circumstance to him. They agre ed W ar ds the boat into the tunnel, and on going about 14 0 h Y o arci: they came to Tattersall's boat, but no one was on u t c ask They pushed the boat back to the F ou l r id ge s ide, b,e_ h aof with nothing except Duxbury' s cap , an d t h e boa.v_ i c d ieSt floating pn the water. After a lon g searc h f o r the Doere Duxbury's was found about 40 y ar d s f rom t h e Flae e . 4 e the boat had been, and shortly a f ter Fletcher s w" found near the same place. It was. thought that "i „-rt n en" them had fallen into the wat er , an d t h at t h e o ther, 'Vet' deavouring to get him out, had 'ant thf same fate' diet, " Accidental death."