The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-01-30 00:00:00

iLittrature JANUARY. (For the Liverpool Standard.) By the author of " Rural Sonnets," " Spartacus, the Roman Gladiator," and other tragedies, Hardy as yon fresh bays upon his brow, With full-blown lain ustirms interweav'd, Ere yet the husbandmen resume the plough, Or festive days by labour are retriev'd— Lo, JANUARY leads the young new year, }sappy in welcomes, and with hope elate, Though round it • form cold winds and clouds career, And barren would appear its first est te. Now—if the weather freeze, or hind the ground— Manures are carted, and the routes repair'd : In forest haunts the woodmen's strokes resound : For earliest produce gard,ns are prepar'd And, here and there, just peep above the soil, Signs of the life wherewith vast nature's womb cloth toil. J. JONN3. Inner Temple, Jan. 20, 184-1. SCENA, SUNG BY MISS WRITNALL AT MISS C. WELLER'S FIRST CONCERT. (The words and music by Miss Christiana Weller.) Orma.—Bright visions of the past all fled ! Gay dreams of youth all swept away; Hopes once so cherished now are dead, And steep unheeded in my lay. The heart is chilled that warmly beat, That glow'd with life's delusive joys Fond memory only holds her seat, Unharmed 'mid all proud time destroys. My mind is one unvaried blank; My life is one unbroken sigh ; I n.ourn my weary stay on earth, And gladly would, this moment, tile. None soothe with balmy words my pain; None dry the tears that ceaseless flow, Nor with sweet tones bid me restrain Their gushings from the founts of woe, When o'er my soul sleep gently steals, And thought, unshackled, wanders free, A fleeting bliss my spirit feels, But wakes to mourn reality. Those hours are happy, hut how few I Delusion is my only stay; Kind heaven give my despair her due, And angels waft my soul away. CARDINAL DE RETZ, OR THE COURTIER'S PLO BY PETER POPJOY, Esq• (For the Liverpool Standard.) CHAP 1 ER Xl.—(Continued.) (We left Fabien about to reply to the Queen.) The most profound silence reigned at that moment in the lofty chamber. " Madame," said Fabien, in a respectful but firm tone, " I must supplicate your pardon if I take more than common precaution against any mistake on this occasion; and that your grace will permit me to inquire if it is really the great Conde, the first prince of the blood, who is thus designated as " an enemy to the state ?" A low murmur ran through the assembly. The Queen blushed deeply. " And why not, Sir," said she, with vehemence, if he, whom you, on your part, term the Great Conde,' is insolent and factious, a man whose ambition would lead him to betray France and the King. Why put such a question —can I have been deceived ? Will you refuse to obey your sovereign ? The Regent stamped her foot with passion. The con spirators appeared confounded. Fabien alone stood un moved. ‘: Most gracious liege"—replied Fabien, with an ani mated voice and manner—" Do I really see your grace —do I hear the grand-daughter of Charles the Fifth ? Where are we ? Ought we to enter the palace of the Queen of France, furtively, stealthily, in the dead of night, gliding in obscurity like bad men, intent upon some wicked purpose ? Where is the majesty of the throne ? where the Queen P I see no one here but a mere woman, who hiding herself amongst midnight conspira tors, is about to employ an assassin." . _ The boldness of these words struck the courtiers dumb —they appeared in a complete stupor : not one dared to open his mouth to check the imprudent enthusiast. " Audacious !" exclaimed Anne of Austria, instantly rising from her seat, every had passion now aroused. " Is there not o e present to silence this daring knave." The courtiers stood aloof like statues. Fabien fell on his knee, catching the hem of the Regent's robe -- " Hear me ! oh, hear me, noble mistress, but for one moment," continued the youth, with enthusiasm ; " listen to me—but an instant : I know that I am a lost man ; know that the dungeons of the Chatelet or the Bastille are ready to receive me ; I know that I have sacrificed myself that you mitzlit hear the truth that otherwise would be hidc'en from you ! The frightful step that you, ma dame, have been advised by bad men to take, will not save the state. No, gracious lady, though they may tell you so—the blood of the bravest defender must not be thus ignobly and traitorously shed by an obscure hand, in ambuscade. Let the scales fall from your eyes, noble lady ; think of your illustrious ancestors, think of the sa credness of the power you hold from God !" Anne of Austria laughed convulsively. " And who has brought before us this contemptible preacher," said she, in a tone of bitter irony. " Who has dared to introduce to us this presumptuous moralist ? Is this a new insult devised by my enemies ? Sirs,” said she, apparently suffocated with passion, " he who has prepared this for us shall bitterly repent it." At the next moment a nobler impulse suddenly arising in her mind, with that buoyancy so prevalent in capricious tempers, she quickly added, turning to Fabien— " So, then, you believe yourself to be here amongst an assembly of conspirators, who meditate a bad action. Be it so ; hut do you know where this convocation of con spirators is held ? Do you know in what place you are at this moment ? You are in my oratory in the Cardi nal's palace. You know me not ? Look at me well : I am the Queen Regent. Look at these aentlemen, also : this is Monsieur de Tellier, this 1)e Servien, and De Lionne—ministers and sub-secretaries of state ; this is M. de ( 'hateauneuf, the keeper of the seals ; this the Ma rechale d'Hocquincourt, generaboin-chief of the King's armies : the whole of the council of the Regency you see before you—these are the most strenuous de fenders, the most zealous supporters of my son Louis. Look at us all, sir. Little does it matter to us whether you believe or not that the royal power is fallen so low, that the Regent and her ministers are reduced to conspire in the dark, like discontented citizens, and that they are reduced to supplicate a poor country gentleman like yourself to save the state by a blow of a poignard." The Queen, unable any longer to moderate the vio lence of her feelings, sunk on the seat nearest to her, and covered her face with her hands, to hide the scalding tears that fell abundantly down her cheeks. These emotions were not unfelt by those stood around : the courtiers were not rendered so completely callous by po litical intrigue, as to be altogether devoid of generous thoughts, and they could not but experience some touches of pity for all the evils with which France was over- Whelmed. The Baron profited by the moment of confu sion to draw near his brother, and whisper to him— " Unhappy boy—retract or, " but Fabien, com pletely pre-occupied by his generous design, heard him not ; he remained prostrated at the feet of the Queen, and exclaimed, in an agony of heart, clasping his hands together, " Oh, Madame, in the name of God, do not overwhelm me with your anger and contempt. I have not yielded to a vain and ridiculous temerity in thus telling you a cruel truth. I have fulfilled my duty at the peril of drawing upon myself your anger—a duty, Madame, that I regarded as sacred. I am but one of the most obscure, the humblest of your subjects—like others, I owe you profound respect, devoted duty, and ardent love. I will do your bidding without a murmur, at the very cost of my life, but God forbid, Madame, that I should sacrifice my honour and my conscience in any cause." Anne of Austria appeared at length to have conquered the tenderness that had awakened in her breast the most painful recollections. She raised her head, and replied with a haughty air, " What think you, Sirs, of the insolence of this young preacher P If he has done nought but wound the heart of a queen and mother in recalling to her in what a state of abasement she had allowed the power of her son to fall, she cannot forget that he has also expressed himself in a manner that ought not to be permitted in an august presence—but he possesses your secret and mine— nothing remains for me but to dispose of him." Fabien rose, and waited his doom with calmness and dignity. Those around regarded him in silence, as if to communicate to him their defiance; but no one offered any advice, when the Countess de Montglat, who, du ring the scene, had suffered the utmost agony of mind, advanced into the midst of the circle formed around the Queen, and exclaimed with despair, " Oh, Madame, did I not tell your majesty that he could not accept this office. But have pity on him— pardon him my liege—he is faithful, loyal, and generous —he will not betray your secret." " Are you about to resume your weepings and wail logs, De Montglat," interrupted the Queen, somewhat softened. " But lam tired of all this intriguing, and it was only at your earnest supplication that I consented to your coming with me. You musthe aware, added the Re gent coldly, to yield to your entreaty—this folly—for folly it is—that it is necessary these gentlemen and myst if must consent to forego measures that concern our safety, as well as that of the state. You will see also if they will permit your gallant Norman to boast in all the taverns in Paris of the fine things he has just told me to my face —in the face of the Queen of France." This ungracious reply did not however restrain the generous ardour of the maiden. " May Heaven save the state, and grant your majesty a long and happy life, but humbly do I supplicate per mission to prove to you that it is not necessary to drag this unhappy gentleman to a state prison to be satisfied of his discretion. He is a man of honour, and his word may be trusted ; I know him to be noble, discreet, and 'nerouo. I will be a willing hostage for his truth and Sceing that the courtiers who stood around appeared surprised at her warmth and earnestness, " Sirs," she continued, bursting into tears, " I it w%.s who first drag ged him to the edge of this precipice. lit was who in duced him to leave his peaceful country home, where happy and calm, life passed away without a knowledge of courtly intrigues—and oh ! of crimes —and if I love him —I love him with all my heart—but I, too, have been deceived—betrayed—entrapped." Sobs stayed her fur ther utterance. The Queen replied coldly, and with that apparent callousness she sometimes could assume. " Truly, gentlemen, I am sorry to find that we who are assembled here on the subject of an enterprize that affects a kingdom's welfare, should now only find our time occupied by an affair of the heart of one of my maids of honour, and her Normandy beau! believe me, nevertheless, this exhibition of man's scruples and wo man's love is not more diverting to me than it must prove to you." Several voices now were raised to tender advice, but the Baron de Croissi—his face livid—his eyes glistening with anger, approaChed the Queen, and said in a tone of ill-disguised passion,— " I beseech your majesty to believe that I have been deceived by the pretended simplicity of this young man. He has unworthily abused my trust, and has departed from all his most solemn promises. But let not your majesty despair of the project which your most faithful servants have conceived. I will not fail to find before this time to-morrow a gentleman who will accomplish it without conditions, or any difficulties being cast in the way. For the present, I shall not seek to avert the just vengeance that your majesty will not fail to visit on him who has betrayed us." " I—l take revenge upon this unhappy youth," said the Queen, with disda'n ; "Sir, my vengeance does not descend so low. Let these gentlemen decide his lot :to them do I abandon him." " Madame," exclaimed D'Hocquincourt, with ear nestness, " I knew not this young man until yesterday : to-day I have seen him for the second time. I avow to your grace that he has acted and spoken in a manner which, in a person of importance, would amount to high treason ; but this headstrong youth is guilty only of folly and ignorance. If then your majesty will take into con sideration any loyal and good services I may have ren dered my country, I implore your majesty not to permit him to be too heavily punished for his boldness. lam his debtor, and his language appears to me to be inspired by a feeling of generosity that, though I cannot but admire it, I still must in this case look upon it as absurd and unbe coming. In one word, madame, I think it will be quite sufficient to exact from him a promise to reveal nothing that he knows in this affair; and if it should be considered necessary to place any one to watch over him, to secure his silence, I will not hesitate to pledge myself to under take the charge, and hold myself responsible for his ap pearance before your majesty and th ese no bl e gent l emen present." " Thanks, thanks, gallant D'Hocquincourt, " mur mured Elizabeth. The younger De Croissi acknowledged by a sign his thanks, to hi s d e f en d er . Th e court i ers gathered' in a group, and discussed, in low tones, the pro priety of adopting this course to guard against any in discretion on the part of Fabien. Some hinted that the walls of a state prison were more likely to secure them from an unguarded word than the interior of the Hotel D'Hocquincourt. Nevertheless, as few of them wished to embroil themselves with the 'Marecha,l, who seemed intent upon his propositirn being carried out, and as the Queen who had turned away her head with an affectation of indifference, appeared also to lean towards the side of clemency, they were about to decide that Fabien should be placed in charge of D'Hocquincourt, when the Baron de Croissi interrupted— " One moment, gentlemen,—but one moment," said he, with firmness, " by the royal clemency—a most un deserved favour—my brother has not been requited as his most audacious speech and conduct so well merit, but I will not forego to any man the right I have of dis posing of him, and I claim him, being his eldest rela tion and his natural protector. " All those ties that once bound me to you are now broken and for ever annihilated," cried Fabien, with an indignant air. " Every kindness you have done is effaced from this moment—y o u are no l onge r my brother- - know you not." "So DOW a family scene—for our edification—nothing like a change, gentlemen," said the Queen, with bitter irony." . _ _ " Gentlemen," said Elizabeth, stepping forward and addressing herself to the courtiers, " do not deliver this young man into the hands of his brother, do not abandon him to a pittiless tyranny ; he has already shown that he wished to sacrifice him to h s ambition ; who knows what fate he may have in store for him for the future ?" " Gracious lady," she continued, turning towards the Queen, " remember that young De Croissi yesterday de voted himself bravely in your Majesty's cause. Pardon him, and my life upon it, you will, not have in all the kingdom a more faithful adherent." The Queen, in spite of the insensibility which she so delighted to assume in public, still possessed a good heart ; her anger, when roused, was blind, violent, and irresistible, but it was never very lasting, and after the first burst always to be softened. The tears, the suppli ant tone of Elizabeth de Montglat—no slight favourite at all times —won upon her sensibility ; perhaps that very artless affection which Elizabeth exhibited towards Fa ' bien, and which she pretended to despise, recalled certain fond recollections of her own girlhood. Whatever might have been the cause of this softening towards the culprit, she was about to pardon him when the pittiless Albert, in an instant, changed his intentions. " Madame," said he, pointing to the maiden with an air of contempt, " does your Majesty know well who it is that solicit:. such a favour as is just preferred, and who brands me with the names of infamy and of being a traitor ? Does your grace know all the mischief that this weak and trembling girl hath done, holding, as she does, a confidential situation near your Majesty ?" - " What have you to say of the Countess de Montglat," inquired the Regent, with astonishment and some show of displeasure. " Monsieur De Croissi !" cried Mdlle. de Montglat, dismayed, trembling, and turning pale with terror. " You have not kept your promise, therefore I will not keep mine," continued Albert ; " in place of inducing my brother to do his duty, you have pictured to him in odious colours a deed that would save the state. I will now let the Queen become acquainted with a secret which chance alone enabled me to distover, and which has placed you in my power. Know, then, Madame, that Madlle. de Mon tglat, the most favoured of all, and whom you have loaded with favours, day by day betrays your confi dence, and— " Peace be with you," exclaimed a deep toned and sonorous voice, which appeared to issue from the very midst of the assembly. (To be continued.) HINTS FOR HUNDREDS.—No. I. (For the Liverpool Standard.) " Esti auton kinanto ? "—DEMOSTHENEi. " ANY THING NEW?" A straw floating on the surface of the water, or a feather wafted in the air, things but trifling and insignificant in themselves, are yet sufficient to indicate the current of the mightiest river, or the direction of one of the most powerful and subtle elements of nature. This assertion you may admit to be true, but certainly not " any thing new." Yet the a pplic a tion w hi c h I w i s h t o ma k e o f a circumstance, trivial in itself as either of the above illus trations, and, from its every-day occurrence, unnoticed and not hitherto applied to the purpose I intend, will be deemed, I humbly opine, in your estimation, to be— " something new." But first let me premise, that as a stranger and visitor for a short time in your large and flourishing commercial city, the modern Venice or Tyre of ancient times, it has forcibly occurred to me, as a startling and puzzling paradox, (as I know it has also done to others visiting you under similar circumstances,) that such a strange discrepancy should exist between the symmetrical proportions and uniformity of style, propri ety and adaptation for the purposes intended, as are to be found in your public docks, causing them to be deservedly an object of great attraction and admiration, and the ab sence of all uniformity, and the studied irregularity and confusion of all styles of architecture hitherto known and acknowledged as standards of art, and, until exhibited in your town , never deemed to have an existence in any imagination however glowing or fanciful, in any of the vagaries (and these have been numerous enough) which have been exhibited to the world by amateur or profes sional architects. In every modern square and street of your town, this is conspicuously visible. But more : it is not that this discrepancy exists in the style of the build ings alone, but in the materials also of which they are composed. Look at a row of goodly houses : at its com mencement you will find two or three to be built of stone, then as many more to be lath and plastered buildings, i some having their fronts p aint e d to mitate the stone, but those whose houses are imm ediatel y adjoining their stony neighbours will take care that there shall not be any pos sibility of mistaking their cement for the more durable material, and will have it painted a dead wh i te colour; the next wi ll h ave a s hining quarantine-like front, glowing with y e ll ow ochre • ano ther will choose to be considered as, " when l east a d o rned," to be "adorned the most," and will ex hibi t the ceme nt in all its native purity, or impurity rather, showing cameleon-like green, yellow and black, accordingly: as the atmosphere, smoke, and dirt have in turns done their respective duties ; and then, as if to set at d e fi ance and utter l y to defeat any ideas that may have been entertained that un iformity may have been aimed at, a f ew b r i ght red bric k h ou ses will succeed, some garnished and decorated with stone cornices and mullions, some merely with brick laughing to scor n the attem p ts , of passers-by t o account for t hi s strange medley ; then for fear lest, aft er all this incongruity mig ht, by a great stretch of the imagination be mistaken for regularity and uniformity, and to removethe monotony of th e p ros p ect, which might other w i se b e occasioned, you will find either in the centre of the row, or intervening somew here before it terminates, a large uns i g h t l y hi atus, left unoccupied , with a board nailed on a p ost , i n di cat i ng that this forlo rn and rejected piece of groun d i s " to be so ld " or " to be let "—but not to be " l e t a l one " ( that i s t h e board), for this serves as the rallyi ng po i nt and target f or the dirty, ragged lads in the neighbourhood to concentrate their force, and there, with yellings and hootings, to exercise , THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. their skill as marksmen. in " shying" (as they term it) stones and missiles of all kinds, from broken bricks and dead dogs to glass bottles and defunct cats, at this primi tive bull's eye, much to the risk of damaging also the eyes of others, not ambitious to be so marked arid distin guished by their notice; this "desirable piece of ground" generally having also a pool of liquid, originally perhaps water, but so coloured and diverted by its ingredients, that it may he stale porter, with a goodly assortment of vegetable and animal matter boiled together, and, when reeking with a hot sun, cannot fail to he an agreeable aiditioci to the odours, which are generally to be found, from the crowded courts and small houses which it ap pears always desirable to have attached to the back of your " better kind " of houses ; it is useful also, as a receptacle for all the rubbish, the oyster-shells, and bro ken crockery of the neighbourhood, besides the filth and nuisances of occasional passers-by. Then to notice the variety of por'icoes !—the interminable variety of all kinds of oak, ash, mahogany, and bird eyed maple doors !—the various shades of green, black, and grey, with which the balconies and iron rails for the area are painted, with their sundry decorative styles of iron casting,—would be a task too arduous for me to undertake, and would require a skill and knowledge of the sciences and fine arts beyond what I can boast of possessing, and I must therefore give up the attempt severally to enumerate them. For all this confusion of order and regularity, I have often attempted to account, often strove to find some reason, why, ai:iong such an enlightened community as your Liverpool people profess to be, and undoubtedly are, having taken the lead, as you have done of late years, in applying all the great scientific discoveries to the prac tical uses of life —particularly that mighty power of steam, by which you have, as it were, annihilated time and space, and removed the various obstacles that previously existed to the rapid and easy communication between the different towns in your own country, bringing Manchester, Bir mingham, and London, within breakfast, luncheon, and dinner distances, and the United States as a " trip" merely across the water, and the East Indies as a pleasant " summer jaunt" ;—with all this manifest demonstration of intelligence, activity, and scientfic skill, I say I have often strove to find some reason, some cause, why such a miserable want of taste, such a misapplication of know ledge, should be found, in the improvement and adorn ment of the dwelling-houses of your town, the health and comfort of its inhabitants; and it always appeared to me a most puzzling enigma. But I think I have read this riddle aright, by a little" straw," a " feather," constantly to be seen wafted in the air, or floating on the surface, of any portion of society, the " good society," that you may move in, and which indicate the " ruling passion" which influences the thoughts, and directs the actions, of this portion of your community. And this I will proceed to demonstrate. A by-stander is often able to see more of a conflict, whether it consists of a battle with lads of fisty-cuffs, or a combat of boys of older growth, accompanied by all the " pomps and circumstances " of glorious war. This is true, for many reasons, which I need not detail ; take this as sufficient, and be quiet, for " I know it " ; and as a bystander among you, I have had the means and oppor tunities of detecting and suffering also from the distin guishing characteristic of your townspeople. On my arrival from India, after an absence of many years, I took up my abode in my relatives' house, no matter where situated, sufficient that it was in one of the " best" streets and neighbourhood of the town, and was welcomed with a warmth and cordiality which they only can appreciate who for years have been absent from an English home, with all its comforts and enjoyments, not to be found in any other quarter of the globe. Uncle was here the " lion," or rather the great Ben 44 tiger of the day : every thing was ordered and regulated for " uncle s " convenience—his feeding times, his sleeping, his walking. his riding hours, were all studiously arranged for his convenience and "comfort ' (a truly English-home word)—his every wish anticipated, not only by an affec tionate brother and his amiable and exemplary lady, but by a tribe also of young namesakes, whom my bachelor habits, of many years' standing, h a d l e d me at fi rst to regard with looks of dread, mixed up perhaps with a touch of the " fierce," in order to put them on their guard, and to keep them at a respectful and respectable distance. But this restraint soon . broke down, for the strength of childish affection few can long withstand ; and many days had not elapsed before I found many of my bachelor's prejudices had made themselves wings and flown away. My Indian establishment was revived : one urchin took charge of my hookah; another of my hat and gloves; a lovely, graceful maiden of my cloak and stick ; a curly headed, laughing Hebe roused me in the morning (a ticklish undertaking); whilst another monopolised the privilege of supplying my tea and coffee with the precise quantity of cream and sugar, which she alone knew to administer; whilst all their little hands vied to be em ployed in uncle's service, and seemed amply repaid with an approving smile, and rendered exuberantly happy with a yarn of a jungle hunt, a tiger fight, a sketch of uncle's palanquin, or his elephant and hookah. I wish I durst intrude further on your patience, by sketching more at large this " happy home," and pay a tribute of deserving respect, admiration, and gratitude to her, the presiding and tutelar genius of all this domestic bliss. I never knew until now the value and capability of female power ; of course I had seen and felt much of its influence during my rambling life, but little of its domestic worth ; nor could I have deemed it possible that the matron I now saw was, ten years ago, the giduy, laughing, flirting, ball frequenting, ever-dancing, never-tiring girl I then knew so well ; but now comely, and better looking, in my esti mation, than even then—cheerful, active, kind, and inde fatigable, and as untiring in her exertions as before, but with different aims and in pursuit of better objects. The comfort and happiness of my brother (spoiled, I must admit, by her indulgence), and the religious and moral training and discipline of her childreh, seemed now to form her only delight, her most pleasing occupation • and well did she appear to be repaid , in the dutiful alid.obe client and affectionate demeanour of her young ones„ who seemed to regard her every look, and whose punishment, when required, was felt severely in her frown, or word of rebuke ; no other punishment was ever needed, none other ever permitted ;--their greatest reward her smile and kiss of approval. Her benevolence and kindness to all was only bounded and constrained by her pecuniary means, and so strongly was this characteristic exhibited in her countenance, that she could never walk abroad without attracting (much to her astonishment) all the poor and needy who crossed her path, as I have often witnessed when accompanying her in her walks. Truly she has had, and I trust will continue to have, her reward, which so much worth and benevolence has justly entitled her to receive. But how am Ito apologise for this long digression? I know not what to say, but must throw myself unreser vedly upon the kind indulgence and sympathy of your readers, who, I doubt not, can readily enter into the feel ings of gratitude and affection, which have thus taken possession, vi et armis, of my pen, and, though at their cost, have afforded an opportunity of giving vent to that which, when " cabin'd and confined" within my own bosom, seemed difficult and almost impossible to be si lenced and restrained. I promise, however, to go on, and sin no more. I remember well my first appearance in town, and the first indication I then received o f your Liverpool " ruling passion." Accompanying my brother to his office, on our drawing near to the Exchange, we soon began to fall in with his acquaintances, and the ceremony of my intro duction to his numerous friends commenced and conti nued after the following manner, which take as a sample of the rest :—" Ha ! Molasses, how are you ? " and mo tioning with his hand towards rne, " My brother, from India." " Oh, indeed ! Any thing new, sir, in India ?" Now this was a choker, and somewhat indefinite ; and whilst I was ruminating what might be considered " new" to him—whether in Scinde, the Punjaub, Upper or Lower India—l could only smile and bow, by way of gaining time ; but I need not have troubled myself, for before I could have written these few words, Molasses' attention was withdrawn from myself, and, smiling at my brother, demanded, "What's new with you, Cotton, this morn ing ? " To which my brother replied, " Have you any thing new ?" " I'm off to the docks," was the answer ; and then, giving each other a poke with the thumb about the region of the second button-hole, they laughed, winked at each other, and started off at different tangents. " A funny fellow that Molasses is, isn't he ?" I replied that I had had no opportunity of judging whether he was so or not. " Bless me! didn't I introduce you to him ?" " Oh, yes, you certainly did ; but " " Well, then, isn't he—Morgan, what have you new ? My brother, from India." " What is there new in your part of the world, sir ? " Again puzzled, and again beginning to cogitate for an answer, I was again relieved by an addi tion to the two of some other friends ; and, again intro duced, and the same inquiry again made, I could only listen to the manner in which the salutations were given and the answers returned, and found them to consist— question and answer varying a little in the arrangement of their words and emphasis, but all ringing the same tune—of " Any thing new ?" " What have you new ?" " Have you any news ?" And thus was I handed round, and bandied with the same never-varying inquiries. And often have I since recalled to mind my first appearance on " 'Change" ; but it was not until I had made several visits there, that I began to notice this universal style of address; and then I began to reflect, that, for my own credit, and in consideration of my brother's also, it be hoved me to be prepared with some of the " news " of the day. Taking my way to the newsroom, therefore, in good time in the morning, by the most unfrequented streets, fearful lest I should be falling in with some of my friends before I was prepared, I soon dived into the contents of a goodly broadsheet, and, from amidst its va ried stores, began to lay in a " supply" likely to be com mensurate for the " demand." But here another diffi culty met me, which I had not reckoned upon. I was at a loss to know what might be regarded as " news" by one, and " stale, flat, and unprofitable " by anot h er; and this I soon found to my great annoyance :—e. g. " Well, captain, any news 'this morning?' " Yes!" Brimful with my morning cramming, now I thought a good op portunity for a fling off. " Yes! " I replied lonely, boldly, setting my legs apart, and thrusting a hand into each of my breeches-pockets, as I remarked was the standard fashion of the nobs of the flags. " Yes," I re plied ;" I see the funds"— " Funds? Wh-e—w ! drawing his mouth into a small funnel-shaped projection, and turning a pivot on his right heel, and describing, at a considerable elevation a circle with the left. " Funds! My dear fell ow , let those bother their heads about them, who have got any thing to no with the funds—l hav'n't. So you've nothing new ? " When I tried the politics of the day, " Oh, d —n the politics ! Who'd trouble him self about them ?" When the " fashion and table talk," " Oh, all humbug!" But still something, any thing " new " was required. Never was a poor fellow so pes tered and bothered. Mosquitoes under your curtain at night, hot water when cold was wanted, a tight uniform and heavy helmet under a hot grilling sun, are nuisances sufficient singly of themselves to disturb the equilibrium of any man's temper; but these may be endured, becausa you can indulge a hope of obtaining, at some time, relief from your sufferings, a riddance from your annoyances. But here I was bound and whipped with nettles, hourly, daily; and often have I been inclined to burst out with a hearty anathema at the inquiry for " n-e-w-s," and, by way of doing something " new," to " pick " a quarrel, in a proper way, with the anxious inquirer. But then, as I saw no offence was intended, and by following the latter expedient I might he making the had worse, I deemed it prudent, like the man in the play, rather " to b3ar the ills we have, than fly to others that we know not of " ; and could only therefore answer, to such brusque replies, I know not what, accompanying my words with a grin, a laugh, or an hideous attempt for something to be mistaken for this kind of exercise of the muscular organs. Having come to the conclusion that discretion was to be preferred to valour, I deemed it the wisest and most prudent course to avoid the nuisance I could not otherwise overcome ; and such an impression had the " fretting " I had under gone made upon my nerves, that for weeks I ventured not into the town. I dreaded to meet any of my brother's friends; I shrunk from any thing new ; and had nearly committed an assault upon my tailor, from his inquiry if I could give him " any thing new" —as khint in his line! (To be concluded in our next.) j SECOND EDITION. Standard-office, Half-past Eleven o'clock, THE STATE TRIALS. THIRTEENTH DAY, Monday, Jan. 29th. At the opening of the Court this day, after their Lord ships had taken their seats, Mr. John O'Connell, one of the traversers, rose and addressed the Court and Jury. Something, he said, had dropped from Mr. Shiel, in his speech on Saturday, which might convey the impression that he was disposed to accept an occasional or an annual visit of the Imperial Parliament to Dublin, as a satisfactory concession to the present agitation for repeal. He was not of such opinion. Whatever might be the consequences of the avowal, he would not allow it for a moment to be supposed that he . gave up the inalienable right of bis country to a free legislature. (Considerable sensation was excited by the above declaration.) Mr. MOORE, Q.C. then proceeded to address the court on behalf of the Rev. Thomas Tierney, and remarked at great length upon the alleged unanimous resolve of the Irish people in favour of repeal and the harshness with which the defendants had been pursued by the Attorney- General. Mr. Hatchell then rose and said, that he appeared as counsel for Mr. Ray. He admitted that Mr. Ray was a repealer, and the paid secretary of the association, but the jury were not to try him as such, but whether or not he had in conjunction with the other traversers entered into a preconcerted plot to excite discontent against the govern ment and constitution. The learned counsel proceeded to argue at some length against this allegation, and closed his address at two o'clock, when Mr. O'Connell, who had been present in the course of the morning at the Con ciliation Hall, had the Court adjourned until this (Tuesday) morning, assigning as a reason the illness of Mr. Fitzgibbon, of counsel for Mr. Tierney, and the hon. and learned traverser forthwith transported himself to the scene of agitation. THE AMNESTY ADDRESS. The Lord Mayor has received a letter from Sir James Graham, acquainting him that the Queen will receive the celebrated Amnesty Address from the hands of his lord ship on Friday next. In consequence of this intimation their honours held a meeting this day, at which, we un derstand, it was proposed by Alderman George Roe that the Lord Mayor should not wait upon her Majesty ; bat that a letter should be written to the Home Secretary to request him to present the Address. This view was gene rally dissented from, and it was strongly put to the ex-Lord Mayor, that he at least should not refuse to do the polite thing upon this occasion. He flatly refused, however, to accompany his successor into the dread presence of Ma jesty. A deputation, consisting of some half-dozen mem bers of the council, was ultimately got together, and it was determined that they should should proceed to Lon don forthwith. MOTHERLY LOVE.—Last among the characteristics of woman is that sweet motherly love with which nature has gifted her; it is almost independent of cold reason, and wholly removed from all selfish hope of reward. Not because it is lovely does the mother love her child, but because it is a living part of herself—the child of her heart, a fraction of her own nature. Therefore, do her entrails yearn over his wailings, her heart beats quicker at his joy, her blood flows more softly through her veins when the breast at which he drinks knits him to her. In every corrupted nation of the earth this feeling is the same. Climate, which changes everything else, changes not that. It is only the most corrupting forms of society which have power gradually to make luxurious vice sweeter than the tender cares and toils of maternal love. In Greenland, where the climate affords no nourishment for infants, the mother nourishes her child up to the third or fourth year of his life. She endures from him all the nascent indications of the rude and domineering spirit of manhood with indulgnt all-forgiving patience. The ne gress is armed with more than manly strength when her child is attacked by savage beasts. We read with asto nished admiration the examples of her matchless courage and contempt of danger. But if death robs that tender mother, whom we are pleased to call a savage, of her best comfort—the charm and care of existence—where is the heart that can conceive her sorrow ? Read the lament of the Nadawosse woman on the loss of her husband and her infant son. The feeling which it breathes is beyond all expression. —Herder : Mrs. Austin's Fragments from German Writrra. DISTINGUISHED IRISHMEN.—In the highest branches of human knowledge, and on the widest arena of human enterprise, the names of Irishmen are justly celebrated. Among divines, philosophers, statesmen, orators, legisla tors, diplomatists, financiers, historians, warriors, poets, astronomers, physicians, sculptors, musicians, and dra. matists, we find the names of Archbishop Ussher, Berke ley, Adam Clarke, Wellesley, Wellington, Burke, Boyle, Swift, Sterne, Steele, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Hastings, Grattan, Canning, Foster, Curran, Flood, Bushe, Yel verton, Clare, Beresford, Croker, Gifford, Duigerfan, Musgrave, Barrington, Charlemont, Burgh, Valentia (Lord), Parsons, Lucas, Cavendish, Malone, Hutchison, Ponsonby, Pakenham, O'Loughlin, Plunkett, Sheill, Jebb, Browne, Loftus, Sloane (Sir Hans), Castlereagh, . E M y a r c e a ) r , t Knox,e , Staunton, parnell fi F n Francisr S ), i r ParnellP h i r) (poet, o , o p t e o t ti r n ger (Sir Henry), Gough (Sir Hugh). Brinkely, Oxman town, Edgeworth, Robinson, Hamilton, Morgan (Lady), Blessington (Countess), Mornington, Gillespie (Rollo), Moore, Hawkins, Abernethy, Collis, Crampton, Lever, Newenham, H a ll (M rs. ) , Lover, Wolff, Maxwell, Matu rio, Carolan, O'Neil (Miss), Farren (Miss), Sheridan Knowles, Montgomery, Plowden, Leland, Stephenson, Mossop, Murphy, Cooke, Macklin, Hogan, Shee, Maclise, and others of past and rising celebrity. What enabled these distinguished men to inscribe their names in the scroll of fame, and to add to the honour and to the wel fare of their country ? The +Nide and noble field of Bri tish enterprise. Wherever wind blows, or ocean rolls, there may be found united the English, Irish, Scotch, and Welch, under the glorious title of Britons, establish ing the physical, mental, and moral supremacy of their " United Kingdom," striking the fetters from the slave, emancipating the oppressed, and, in fulfilment of a Divine mission, preaching the glad tidings of the Gospel in dis tant and heathen lands.—Montgomery Martin s Ireland. JULES JANIN, THE FRENCH FEUILLETONIST.—Your eye is resting (I thought it would) on that droll-looking person, lolling at his ease in you fauteuil, disordered in dress, careless in manner, and yet imposing, spite the tangled locks that fall in sad confusion over his ample forehead ; that is the Coryphteus of feuilletonistes, the very Jupiter of the tribe. His thunderbolts fall among us at times with killing effect, but he can also give life to an artiste, and make it priceless ; that is " J. J." of the Journal des Debate: I wonder at my temerity in ap proaching so calmly his formidable initials, so often signed to the epitaphs recorded on our artistic tombs ; but his indulgence to myself emboldens my familiarity. He is chiefly known to the public for hebdomadal contributions to the famous De'bats, wherein he empties his effervescing caldron of critical remark, all steaming, hot, and spicy. He makes the tour of all the novelties the week brings forth, and then on Monday morning disburdens his mem ory and his conscience. Like the immortal hero of l'Eli sir d'Amore, be dispenses his doses with prodigal hand, —a bolus here and an elixir there ; administering to wounds of his own making the soothing ointment of his praise, and in very wantonness scratching others half healed up. But rail, rant, and roar at him as we may, who can shut their eyes to the brilliant, sparkling, seduc tive light of his genius, winning while it repels, delight ing even when it chides, intoxicating when it extols? Yes, Janin, I believe an artiste never fell beneath thy rod who did not kiss it while it smote ; for it lashes so beautifully. This singular person is the theme of con stant remark ; his eccentricities (for it seems genius must have them), his peculiarities, and penchants, furnish end less gossip to the "Foyer." His last new predilection now sets all tongues a-wagging, and who, or rather what, do you dream is the tender object of his love? He has taken to a pet ; and what, of all the things of air, earth, and sea, do you imagine has won him ? Oh ! name it not in Berlin—" a little pig!" with doubtful claims to white ness. Byron had his bear; •Goethe his monkey ; and Janin fondles a pig! What is the attraction of this new caprice ; what the sympathy between "J. J." and his darling, who can tell? The topic is prolific in bon mots, to those who dare make merry at his expense. " Yes," exclaimed the lively Comte de —, the last opera-night, " there must be mutual feeling for similarity of pursuit ; the pig scour the street of its offal, and Janin ranges from one end of the Boulevards to the other for his theatrical garbage." Woe to the bold jester if this comes to Janin's indignant ear; he will avenge promptly the outraged dig nity of his petit cochon. All societies are open to Janin : the court invites him ; his numberless friends prey on him; the dinner languishes, the soiree is dull, the repre sentation is flat, when Janin is not there. Hunt Europe through, and you will not find another man more courted ; and the same journey over again would not discover you an equally successful competitor. The coveted of artistes, the dreaded of dramatists, and the most gifted of critics, how shall I support the loss of thy vivacious effusions, — the delicate embroideries of thy style ? Pirouetting will lose its charm when "J. J." is not there to criticise. Bless me, dear Mina, how tiresome you must think me in prating so long of a good-fo'r-nothing critic you care little for ! In talking of Janin, I have allowed all my company to steal out of my loge without a parting smile.—Frayer's Magazine. THE CORN LAWS. "FACTS ARE STUBBORN THINGS." According to the census of 1831, there are in the United Kingdom 2,470,411 persons, above thenty years of age, employed in agriculture, and 710,511 in manufactures. Seven-ninths of the population are dependent on agricul ture, and two. ninths on manufactures. In 1841, ihe average proceeds of agriculture in England and Wales was about £300,000,000, and of manufactures £173,136,316, of which £47,136,316 was exported ; and of the remaining £126,000,000, sold in the home market, at least two-thirds was purchased by the agriculturists. For every £1 employed in manufactures, £l5 is em ployed in the cultivation of the soil. The average consumption of wheat is about 19,000,000 quarters annually, of which 3,000,000 odd is imported ; and every quarter introduced supersedes just as much labour as would be required to produce it at home. Wheat imported Goods of all descriptions into the exported from the United Kingdom from— United Kingdom to— (In the three years from 18y3 . to 1840—the latest returns published,) Germany.. 1,086,724 qrs. £15,622,554 Russia 681,295 qrs. 5,042,411 Prussia.. Thus it will be seen, that while the largest quantity of 'wheat is imported from Prussia, we export the smallest quantity of goods to that kingdom. The sum necessary for the cultivation of land is about £8 per acre; and as much as £l5 is sometimes expended alone for improvements. The direct and indirect taxes paid upon a well-culti- vated farm of 100 acres amount to about . £l24 per annum £69 of_ which is upon the wheat crop (producing, say 66 to 67 quarters :) the tax is consequently upwards of 20s. per quarter, or nearly 42 per cent., with wheat at 525. per quarter. The average price of wheat for the last thirteen years was 565. 11d. per quarter, and the average duty paid into the exchequer ss. 9d., or about ten per cent. ; on all other agricultural produce (grain excepted) the average duty is 8 per cent. Manufactured goods are protected by duties ranging from 10 to 30 per cent—the average is about 18 per cent. If the corn laws were repealed, Dantzig and Polish wheat could be bought for 38s. per quarter, or less, including the freight. Question: What amount of fixed duty would protect the English farmer?—Answer: Not Lord John Russell's Bs. (query, 55.) duty. Land can be rented in Prussia at Is. 3d. per acre, and wheat is sold there for 14s. 9d. per quarter. The wages of the lab ?urer is sd. per day : 6d. is paid for thrashing 34- bushels of wheat. The average wages paid in France, Germany, Tyrol, and Austria, as shown by Messrs. Gregg and Porter, great free trade authorities, is just 3s. 11d. per week. Agri cultural wages in England are regulated by the price of wheat—the value of a day's labour being one peck of wheat for the last hnndred years. With wheat at 606. per quarter, 12s. per week wages is paid; at 525. per quarter, 10s. per week is paid ; at 445. per quarter, Bs. or 9s. is paid. It is. therefore, quite clear that the labourer is most benefited when the farmer obtains a remunerating price for his wheat; for a labourer, with family five in number, who consumes ten loaves a week, will pay 10d. per week less only for his bread, with wheat at 525. in stead of 605., or 445. instead of 525; whilst in either case his wages will be reduced per week. There was an increase of 12 per cent. in the quantity of wheat sold during the three months preceding Christmas, compared with the corresponding period of 1842. Machinery, so far as it aids mankind, is useful; but it may go so far in superseding hand labour as to be injuri ous. The invention of Arkwright is said alone to have reduced the cost of manufacturing cotton from 18s. to 18d. per lb. About one-half the cotton that is produced is manufactured in England. Every artizan contributes in tax at least 10 per cent. upon his earnings ; but a machine that supersedes his labour gives to the person using the machine the differ ence of 10 per cent. upon every labourer it supersedes. All information derived from the statements made by the league should be suspected ; the truth is, in almost every case, perverted to serve its end, and the most wilful misstatements are made to delude the unwary and unsus- petting. If men could live without labour, a free trade would be beneficial ; but whilst men live by their labour, it would be ruinous.—From a pamphlet published by Painter, Strand. NEW CHARTER OF THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS. The following is an abstract of the provisions of the new charter of the College of Surgeons, freed from legal verbiage and technicalities :- I.—The name of the college is changed to that of the Royal College of Surgeons of England. 2.—The future members are to consist of two classes —members and fellows. 3.—Members are admitted precisely as heretofore, after an ordinary examination, and at any age not less than twenty, and on paying the usual fee (at present twenty guineas). 4.—Persons are admissible as fellows after passing a special examination, and at any age not less than twenty five. It is not necessary that the candidate for the fellow ship should previously pass the examination fora member ; but persons having become members may present them selves for examination as fellows on attaining the proper - s.—The scholastic educational requirements and the nature of the examinations for candidates for the member ship and fellowship respectively are not defined in the charter. 6.—There is no other restriction as to the attainment of the fellowship, except those of age and passing the ap pointed examination. [Fellows may consequently practise pharmacy and midwifery at will.] 7.—The number of members and fellows is unlimited. B.—Fellows have no special privileges beyond members. except in having votes for the members of the council, and in being themselves eligible as members. 9.—The amount of fee to be paid by fellows on admis sion is left to be fixed by the council, but cannot exceed thirty guineas over and above the stamp duty on the dip loma. [Whatever be the amount of fee fixed on for the fellowship, it is presumed that the sum previously paid by members for their diploma will be deducted from it.] 10.—The council is henceforth to consist of twenty four members, (instead of twenty-one, as at present,) to be elected from the fellows by the fellows. 11.—All fellows are eligible for the council, such as ac tually practise, or during the preceding five years, have practised, pharmacy or midwifery, or live beyond five miles from the London post-office. 12.—Three members are to retire from the council every year, and their places to be filled up from the fel lows; the retiring members to he immediately re-eligible. 13.—The election of councillors is to be by ballot of the fellows present at the meeting, fifteen to be a quorum, and the election to be decided by a simple majority of votes. 14.—At the election of councillors, fellows must be proposed in the order of their seniority on the list ; and every fellow so proposed on two different occasions, and not elected, shall not be again eligible. 15.—The members of the council in office at the time of granting the charter are to continue such for life with out re-election. 16.—Until the life members have all died off or retired, the annual supply of three new members to the council is to be effected by the retirement of the members last elected. _ 17.—The examiners of candidates for the membership and fellowship are to be ten in number. They are to be chosen by the council from the fellows, whether at the time members of the council or not. They are to hold office during the pleasure of the council. Six examiners are to be a quorum for examination. [The present ex aminers are to continue for life.] 18.—The president and the two vice-presidents are to be chosen by the council from among the members of the council whether examiners or not. 19.—The new charter confirms all the powers of the old, and bestows no additional powers, except such as are stated in the foregoing extract. 20.—A1l bye-laws and ordinances of the council must be approved of by the secretary of state before they are valid. 21.—The charter grants to the old council the provisi onal power of nominating, and commands it to nominate, without examination or the payment of any fee. a cer tain number of fellows from among the existing members of the college, namely, not less than 250, nor more than 300, within three months from the date of the charter, that is, before the 14th of December, 1843; and author ises it, but does not order it, to nominate other members (the number not specified) to be fellows, within the period of nine months after the 14th of December. After the expiration of the twelve months from the date of the charter fellows can only be elected after examination and the payment of a fee, as provided by the charter. 28.—The council are ordered to keep a register of all the fellows in the order of their seniority, for the inspec tion of fellows and members. [This register, it is pre sumed. will contain also a list of members; with , the place of residence of both fellows and members, and will be published annually for their use.]—British and Foreign Medical Review. EMIGRATION TO CANADA.—Southampton is appoint ed the port for the emigration to Canada, under the Gov ernment arrangements. The fine brig Rainbow, now in the Southampton docks, will be the first to leave, and will take out 300 emigrants.—Hampshire Advertiser. MELANCHOLY CASE.—A poor fatuous woman, be longing to Rsss-shire, who had been in the habit of wandering from home unknown to her friends, was lately found by a shepherd lying on a hill in Sutherlandshire, exposed to cold and inclemency of the weather. When discovered, her lower ex tremities were found to he in a state of mortification from frost-bite. She was last week cenveyed to the infirmary, Inverness, and has since had both legs amputated by D. Manford, one of the ordinary medical attendants. We un derstand she is going on well. —Ross-shire Advertiser. HADDINGTON.—Lovz AND MADNESS.—Last week a young man, a tailor by trade, threw himself over the Kay Milos, a precipice to the north of Haddington. His fall was broken by the trees growing at the foot of the rocks, otherwise death must have ensued from this rash act. He was observed by some workpeople in the neighbour hood, who hastened to his relief, and found he was very severely bruised. He is in a fair way of recovery, and s t a tes he did this in a fit of desperation, because his sweet heart had refused to name the marriage day, and would not allow him to give their names to the session-clerk for proclamation on the Sabbath following. A few days after the above occurrence, another young man, a shoemaker, attempted to cut his throat because a young woman de clined to be his partner at a dancing party that was to take place on the following evening; h e is also in a fair way of recovery.—Edinburgh Courant, Jan. 30, 1844. THE BANK OF ENGLAND. The probability of the continuance of the Bank of England's charter becoming an important object of consideration in the monetary circles now the time for the session is drawing near, a short view - of the different renewals of that charter may not be uninteresting to the general reader, who has not the means of information on this subject constantly within his reach. The act by which the Bank of England was esta blished is entitled "An Act for granting to their Majesties several duties upon tonnage of ships and vessels, and upon beer, ale, and other liquors, for securing certain recompenses and advantages in the said act mentioned to such persons as shall volun tarily advance the sum of £1,500,000 towards carry ing on the war with France." After authorising the raising of £1,200,000 by subscription, this act states that the subscribers shall be formed into a corporation, to he called " The Governor and Com pany of the Bank of England." The Charter %vat issued on the 27th of July, 1694. The first renewal was in the year 1697, extending the charter until the expiration of 12 months' notice, to be given after the Ist of August, 1710, and until payment by the public to the Bank of the demand specified. In 1708 the charter was extended until the expiration of 12 months' notice, to be given after the Ist of August, 1732 ; and by the same act (7 Anne, c. 7) it was provided— That during the continuance of the said corporation of the Governor arid Company of the Bank of England, it shall not be lawful for any body politic or eorporate whatsoever, created or to be created (other than the said Governor and Company of the Bank of England), or for any other persons whatsoever, united or to be united in covenants or partnership, exceeding the number of six persons, in that part of Great Britain called England, to borrow, owe, or take up, any sum or sums of money on their bills or notes, payable at demand, or at a less time than six months from the borrowing thereof. This is the famous act by which the monopoly of issuing paper payable on demand was secured to the Bank o England. In 1713, the charter was renewed until the expiration of 12 months' notice, to be given after the Ist of August, 1742, in which year it was again renewed to 1764, and in that year to 1786. In 1781 there was a further renewal to 1812. The celebrated suspension of cash payments took place on the 37th of February, 1797. In 1800 the charter was extended to 1833. In 1819 " Peel's Bill" was passed, requiring the Bank to return to cash payments. In 1826 the act was passed allow ing banks having more than six partners to carry on business in England at a greater distance than 65 miles from London, thus partially abolishing the monopoly established by the act of 1708. The act under which the Bank of England at present holds its privileges is dated the 29th of August, 1833, and by it it was likewise enacted—. That any body politic or corporate, or society, or company, or partnership, although consisting of more than six persons, may carry on the trade or business of banking in London. or within 65 miles thereof, provided that such body politic or corporate. or society, or company. or partnership, do not borrow, owe, or take up in England, any sum or sums of money on their bills or notes payable on demand, or at any less time than six months from the borrowing thereof, during the continuance of the pri vileges granted by this act to the said Governor and Company of the Bank of England. The clause in the charter under which notice would be given of its expiration is as follows : And be it further enacted, that upon one year's notice, given within six months after the expiration of ten years from the first day of August, 1834, and upon repayment by Parliament to the said Governor and Company, or their successors, of all principal money, interest. or annuities which may he due from the üblic to the said Governor and Company at the time of the expiration of such notice, inn like manner as is hereinafter stipulated and provided, in the event of such notice being deterred until after the Ist day of August, 1855. the said exclu-ive privileges of banking granted by this act hall cease and determine at the expintion of such year's notice; and any vote or resolution of the House of Commons, signified by the Speaker of the said house in writing, and delive.ed at the public riffice of the said governor and company, or their successors, shall be deemed and adjudged to be a sufficient notice. FASHIONS FOR FEBRUARY. (From the " London and Paris Ladies' M agaz i ne o f Fashion." The winter season has again brought into favour the soft and warm douillettes, which are made of levantine or satin, with small square collar, wadded throughout and trimmed with gimp. Dresses of pekin damassel are made with tight high bodies, very open in front, forming (Tear, lengthened to a sharp point nearly to the waist, and often laced across a la Bearnaise : the edges may remain un- . ornamented or have a re v ers o f ve l ve t or very narrow band of fur ; the ceinture is round, and chemisettes with or without collars, formed of inlets of lace or work, are worn inside these corsages, which are the most novel of the season. Revers and facings of satin quilted are very much in use on peignoirs. Dresses of plain cachemire are ornamented with bands of velvet on the bodies, high sleeves a la religieuse. and large pelerines. In ball dresses. the double and triple ski r t s cont i nue i n undiminished favour in all transparent materials for young people; sometwotimes lace m a a w . f f o h i i ituteen s e o a e t rs i n l h s c k ee rt cor reaching ac g e h n ei n t i gb r e e l n y e ga c r a o l yl n s c ot e o l to e hv d ee r b we y da ab h t y e . Dresses of isrlatane with d ou bl e skirts are pretty, trimmed with narrow gold fringe, the bertite to match. The most elegant dresses for court, worn at the Tuilleries, were of whtie satin, ornamented with silver scarfs. Some velvet dresses are made open in front, with an under breadth of white satin ribbon crossing over it from side to side. A pretty novelty is the deep mantille of lace falling below the waist, and rounded in front so as to show the corsage. Black lace scarfs are also made so wide as to permit converting them into tunics ; the den telle de vdours is much approved for full dress toilettes, manteaux, and satin pelisses; they may match the ma terial in colour. The hair is worn rather raised and in ringlets, though bandeaux ate always seen. Coifnres are rather rather wide in front, some are raised in the centre a la Norma, others have a simple wreath in foliage, and touffes at the side a I'ABpasie ; detached flowers are also much worn, they are generally large ones, dahlias, roses, chrysanthemums. Bonnets are a little more open, particularly for dress ones, which are of satin or velvet, i a n re th li e ne d d iff , e v r it e h nt lig s h h t ad e e n s lon o r f a, da a r n k d bolruneamanedntbed with lackbu t t hr f e o e r neglia the shape i s c l oser; some b onnets of plain velvet feathers. Capotes of satin, with wide runners, are trimmed with lace for morning wear. Manteaux and pardeusses are often finished with revers of satin of velvet quilted ; the Polonaises of black satin are not very full, and do not reach lower than the knee. Paletots of ecru cachemire are bordered with velvet. CHILD FOUND IN A PEW.-011 Tuesday the dead body of a full grown child was found in a box, snugly de posited in a pew of St. Martin's Church, Birmingham. EXTRAORDINARY CASE OF INCLNDIARISM.—At the Eton Petty Sessions on Monday, two men, named Ed ward Langley and Alfred Amsden, the former keeping a petty chandler's shop, and the other a shoemaker lodging in the same house, were brought in custody, charged with arson. It appeared, from the evidence of the several wit nesses who were examined, that a strong light was ob served in two or three rooms in the house between five and six o'clock on Sunday morning by some person who enlgy b a y r . ous T ed he fr p o e m rso th n e s i r w b h e o d l s i , v a e n d d n u e p x o t n d t o h o e r ir w e e n re . t iwnl e a r ms in ep e l t is h asti e house of th e pr i soner Langley, it was found to be entirely stript of it s f urn i ture, w i th the exception of part of a bedstead, which was tied up behind a door. Upon going upstairs a large fire was found burning in the grate, with a bed post, one end resting on the grate and the other resting on the floor, in flames, and also piled up by the side of the fire-place, and likewise burning, an old picture-frame and a boot-tree, partly consumed, and se veral pieces of dry wood. The mantel-piece, composed of wood, had also caught fire. A large fire was also found in the grate in the back room on the ground floor, the chimney in flames, and upwards of two bushels of ignited soot on the floor. In the front room on the same floor there was likewise a fire in the grate, but not a single per son was found in the house. By the aid of the neighbours and the police, the fire was fortunately got under before much damage had been done to the premises. The pri soners, having merely stated in their defence that. as they' bad no candles, they set fire to the wood to give them light, were fully committed to Aylesbury gaol to take their trial for arson at the ensuing assizes. HORRIBLE of a horrible and unnatu ra l cr i me . N o d ou b t i s entertained that a gentleman of highly res p ec t a bl e f amily connections in the country, and holdin g an i mportant office connected with the government, in execu ti on of which he has tem porarily resided there, is inculpated. The offence was at tempted to be committed on Tuesday evening week, on a soldier belonging to an artillery regiment stationed there ; who suspected the object of the gentleman, and named it to a policeman, who watched the parties and took the gentleman into custody, but he subsequently managed, h r through the cupidity c a rneglig ence brought b e f ore t h e mag i strates , and Stephens, the superinten dent of of police, a man deposed that sufficient information h a d been collected to lead to the Car ter,t t eg escape. e r was or belief that Carter h a d wilfully assisted in the escape of named the prisoner, but that the chain of circumstances was not yet in that conclusive which he had no doubt it would eventually assume. Carter was remanded, the magistrates refusing the pri soner ' s offer to put in bail. The indi vidual charged with the offence is a man about 45 years of age, and he is supposed to reside in a large town in one of the midland counties, where he has a wife and family- The Gateshead Observer says, that on Tuesday night an individual, described to us as " George Louis, a barrister and assistant ti the-commissioner," was apprehended by the Newcastle police, on the charge of tempting a private soldier to the commission of a revolting offence. He was locked up in a cell at the Manors police-office, for safe custody until the meeting of the borough magistrates ; but in the morning, at twenty-minutes past five o'clock, James Carter, a turhkey, reported to the sub-inspector g o a n e a d t u l y t y, that discovered hi s t c h h a a t r ghee had d s emissingftNewcastle ! o'clock coach for Darlington—just twenty minutes before the turnk ey reported h i s a b sence ! Inspectors Little and Crake were dispatched in pursuit of the fugitive in dif ferent directions. Hitherto, however, no intelligence has been received of him, nor is his recapture very pro bable. tl • IV al ske] AL I ar t ape; De k& He Cu 0 ~I% i t i . T 44 ST A : Ai: z,_ l3 „°: