The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-10-13 00:00:00

tfteraturr. NOTICES. A Description of the Baths and Washhouses belonging to the Corporation of Liverpool. Printed under the direction of the Health Committee. This pamphlet appear at a very seasonable time, when the public mind is beginning to be awakened to a know ledge of the distressed and comfortless condition of the poor in the crowded districts of our town, and is occu pied with plans to better that condition, and at the same time to proeect their own health, which is endangered by the disease engendered in these districts. Proper sans aary precautions, it is now felt, do not consist in mere street drainage and sewerage, or the disuse of cellar habita tions. They must he carried into the dwellings and to the persons of the working classes, who must be taught that clean skin and clean clothes are as important to health as a pure atmosphere. We do not know that any effort could be made more calculated to promote the personal cleanliness of our po pulation than the providing them with cheap baths, and those ready and efficacious means of washing and drying which they cannot command in their own small and un comfortable dwellings. It has been proved by experience how gladly they avail themselves of these facilities. From a table given in the pamphlet before us, it appears that in the Frederick-street Baths—an establishment on a very small scale—the total amount received for washing and baths in 1812-3 was £159 1 ls. Id. ; in 1845-6 the amount was £437 2s. 6d. The number of clothes washed in 1842-3 was 19,261 dozens ; in 1845-6 it was 24,095, and would Lave teen enormously increased had the ac:atimmo dation been equal to the demand fur it. However, it is gratifying to observe that the speculation is not altogether a losing one on the part of the Corporation. We give elsewhere a description of a second and larger establishment now ready to be brought into operation, and trust that not many years will elapse before one is found in every ward in the town. The pamphlet, which is most ably written, contains plans and elevations of the new baths in Paul-street, and will well repay perusal by all who are interested in those philanthropic works by which the welfare of their fellow-creatures is advanced. It has been written by John A. Tinne, Esq., who has thus given an other evidence of his great exertions—necessarily at the cost of much self-denial—to athance the moral and social condition of his poorer fellow-townsmen. A Romance of Liverpool Life. By John Dignan. Liver pool: Ross and Nightingale, Lord•street. Pp. 64. The unpretending little voluu,e before us has appeared in :detached chapters in the columns of the Liverpool Chronicle; and is now republi-hed by the author, at the request of several friends wbo, having been pleased with portions of it, have been disappointed in their wish to complete the tale, some of the numbers of the paper con taining it having run out of print. The chief scenes and Incidents, as may be seen from the title, are laid in Liver pool, the whole hinging upon an occurrence connected with the disasters which took place upon the banks off our port during the great storm of January 7, 1839. The tale Is well worked out, and conveys an excellent mural. We shall not incur the risk - of diminishing the interest with which our readers may take up the bo k, by giving any description of the plot and incidents of the sturv. We prefer increasing the interest by giving an extract or two. The fo'lowing powerfully described scene contains the main incident, upon which the remaining events of the tale are made to hinge :-- " The telegraph speedily made known in Liverpool the desperate condition of the foundering ships. Aid was sent, even at the peril of the brave fellows who risked their own lives, zo save those of their fellow creatures. The life- boat did good service, the tug-boats were even more successful in rescuing the unhappy wretches from a horrid death. On board of the vessel with Mrs. Smithdown and her daugh ter, was a steerage passenger, who appeared to take an in terest in their safety, afforded them all the protection in his power, comforted them in their wailings, and extended a helping hand to save their lives, where he could safely do so without jeopardising his own. His age seemed to be about fifty, and a slight pal ois proclaimed him a York shireman. Scarcely above the middle size, he possessed a bard well-knit frame, brawny chest and shoulders, and a countenance of rude health that showed him capable of encountering any hardsh p. He was just the man for such an emergency. He had emigrated two years previOusly, and was returning to Leeds, where he had left his wife and family, after a fruitless attempt to better his condition in America. Whether prompted by the hope of reward, or the nobler instinct which induces the brave and the hardy to support those who are too weak to support themselves, It matters not—probably both feelings combined, for the sight of a woman and beauty in distress appeals powerfully to the heart of every man—certain, however, it is. that from the time the vessel struck, the attentions of Martin Staple to Mrs. Smithdown and her daughter, were kind and unremitting. He lashed them to a portion of the bulwarks with the same piece of rope that secured :iimself from being washed overboard, de!ermined, apparently, that they should sink or swim together. A tug-boat came to the rescue of the foundering vessel, but the sea, boilin g like a cauldron, and the wind still con'inuing high, ren dered great caution necessary in approaching her. The captain of the steamer had apprehensions that he could not with safety come sufficiently near to take off the pas sengers, without certain destruction to his own vessel, and all on board. Eventually, however, after much manceu vring, which seemed an age to the sufferers, the steamer was brought nearly parallel with the wreck, and many of the passengers sprang with all the force which an effort to escape from death inspires, from the vessel to the steamer. Some succeeded, others failed, and the failure was death —instant death! It was a leap from life to eternity. and the death-shriek of those who sunk into the yawning abyss was lost in the requiem of the passing storm. Sti ple urged Mrs. Smithdown, by all the entreaties in his power, to take the leap. In order to inspire her with cou rage he preceded her, and stood on the steamer'. cide to catch her in his arms. She, poor creature, wild with af fright, looked the picture of despair on the vessel's side, her daughter madly clinging to her garments. But he en couraged her by shouts and gestures, to make the attempt. Once when the steamer, driven by the tide, came a few inches n.lrer to :Le wreck tbao was safe, he shouted out in a peal which towered above the blast, Now ! now ma'am, now or uever!' She sprang, threw her arms wildly forward, but the impetus being either insufficient, or Staple proving nervous in the emergency, Mrs. Smith down sank into the roaring waters, and was never seen more. The packet which s'e had deposited for security in her bosom was in her hand as she took the fatal plunge, and although Martin Staple was not fortunate enough to cave the life of poor Mrs.Smithdown, he succeeded by the merest accident, in grasping this packet, which contained the bulk of her own and her husband's property. It con sisted of a large number of Bank of England notes, dia monds, and other valuables, and these he contrived, quietly and unnoticed, to transfer to his own breast. The young lady was more fortunate than her unhappy mother, who thus perished before her eyes, and Staple bestowed on the broken-hearted girl much generous sympathy." The purpose to which the stolen packet was appro priated, and the visitation of affliction and remorse which followed the dishonest act, we also give " Martin was not long in placing himself in a better po sition before the world. He took a larger house ; his fa mily gave signs of increased comfort ; their appearance at &lurch in new and gayer attire attracted attention ; and the " windfall" which had blown a fortune into his fingers, became the current topic of conversation : it puzzled and surprised his neighbours. He commenced business as a woollen manufacturer, first on a small, subsequently on a more extended ecale. He exported largely to America— knew how to hit the taste of the market—added consider ably to his gains, and in a few years became a wealthy man. He was assisted in his business by his eldest son, Henry ; and another son acted as junior clerk in the counting house. But as Martin Staple grew in wealth, he found that happiness, without a pure conscience, was un attainable. The fanciful notion which prevails in the East, that in the passage to Paradise some of. the followers of the Prophet must traverse, barefooted, an iron bridge made red-hot, as a punishment for their sins, describes, not inaptly, the living, existing hell by which he was daily consumed. His soul was constantly seared by an iron as hot as that which is said to toast the soles of the faithful. Domestic misfortunes embittered his life. "His youngest daughter, a lovely creature, sickened and died. His youngest son, while strolling through the works, was struck by the machinery, and killed on the spot. His wife bad indifferent health, and consumption was fastening its fangs on his eldest daughter, who possessed a form and face, in the days of his happiness and poverty, that Hebe might have envied. The destroying Argel seemed to keep guard over his bonse, and he rarely rote from his pillow without the fear of some new calamity bursting on his de voted head. The foundation of his own constitution was being sapped, and the hale, hearty Martin Staple was ra pidly, prematurely sinking into a feeble, decrepid old man. " Martin !" said his wife, one day after dinner, when they were alone, as the well-spread table - which groaned uncFr every delicacy of the season, was being rep'enished with a handsome dessert, and wines of the richest and choicest vintages sparkled on the mahogany,—` Martin I I have never known a day's happiness since you produced to my astonished eyes that roll of bank notes you brought from America. It is a chord lam unwilling to touch, but I have always had my fears that that wealth would prove our ruin. Now, when I see my sweet children falling in the flower of their loveliness before my eyes—now, in the midst of splendour, when we are' steeped to the eyes in misery the most excruciating, with decaying health assail ing both of us—pardon me, dearest husband. if I ask you whether your statement of the mode in which you attained it was correct. I hope it was, but my fears exceed my hopes.' She (lid touch a chord which thrilled through every fibre of his frame. kle paused—became excessively agitated—looked wildly-round him, and his wife, fearing apoplexy, was proceeding to alarm the inmates of the house, when he motioned her to desist." The remaining portion of the tale, with its striking de nouement, are wrought out with great skill. We trust that the issue of this little adventure upon the discrimina tion of the public will induce Mr. Dignan to favour us, at no long interval, with a more sustained effort of his peu. VARIETIES. TETE VALUE OF LADIES' TIME IN AMERTCA.—MISS Fly, of Massachusetts, has recovered 365 dollars of Mr. Frost, for a breach of promise of marriage. He courted her one year, and the jury allowed her one dollar per day. CoLoNtAt. EPISCOPACY.—It is now universally known, that atter a struggle against the combined difficulties thrown in the way by politicians and dissenters for nearly a century, the first episcopal see in the British colonies (that of Nova Scotia) was founded in 1787. Dividing the period of about sixty years which has intervened into three equal intervals, we shall find t hat in the first twenty years but one other see was founded ; in the next period, from 1807 to 1827. three new s.es were founded ; and Since that time, i.e. in the last nineteen years, fourteen additional colonial bishopricks have been erected, the endowment of several of which has been effected or aided by the fund commenced in 1841 for that purpose.-ox ford and Cambridge Review. DEMAND FOR ARTISTICAL OPERATIVES.—The ern ploytneut of coloured decorations increases, promises in deed to be general, and should lead our young artisans and others to become draughtsmen and designers, and so avail ing themselves of the demand, improve their condition. In the private exercise of our profession we have, at this time, decorations going on in three or four places; and it is a constant source of annoyance to us, almost pain. to find that English workmen cannot be obtained for this purpose—at least, so say the masters, who, moreover, pro fess themselves anxious to ob t ain English assistants, and vexed at being obliged to send to Germany or France, for what they ought to he able to find in London without diffi culty. At the little works to which tve have referred, and at any similar undertaking now going on in England, a visitor would fancy himself in a foreign atelier—mous taches, rolling hair, and j runty smoking caps, distinguish ing the occupants. —The Builder. DIFFICCLTY OF PAINTING BREAKERS.—AS respects the form of breakers on an even shore, there is difficulty of no less formidable kind. There is in them an irrecon cilable mixture of fury and formalism. Their hollow sur face is marked by parallel lines, like those of a smooth mill-weir, and graduated by reflected and transmitted lights of the most wonderful intricacy, its curve being at the same time necessarily of mathematical purity and precision ; yet at the top of this curve, when it nods over, there is a sudden laxity and giving way, the water swings and jumps along the ridge like a shaken chain, and the motion runs from part to part as it does through a ser pent's body. Then the wind is at work on the extreme edge; and, instead of letting it fling itself off naturally, it supports it and drives it back, or scrapes it off and carries it bodily eway : so that the spray at the top is in a con tinual transition I etween forms projewed by their own weight, and forms blown and carried off with the weight overcome; then at last, when it has come down, who shall say what shape that may be called, which shape has none of the great crash where it touches the beach. 1 think it is that last crash which is the great taskmaster. Nobody can do anything with it. I have seen Copley Fielding come very close to the jerk and nod of the lifted threatening edge, curl it very successfully, and without any look of its having been in papers, down nearly to the beach ; but the final fall has no thunder in it. Turner has tried hard for it once or twice, but it will not do. The moment is given in the " Sidon" of the " Bible Il lustrations," and more elaborately in a painting of " Bamborough"; in both these cases there is' little foam at the bottom, and the fallen breaker looks like a wall, yet grand always ; and in the latter picture very beauti fully assisted in expression by the to-sing of a piece of cable, which some figureir.are dragging ashore, and which the breaker flings into the air as it falls. Perhaps the most successful rendering of the forms was in the " Hero and Leander" • but there the drawing was rendered easier by the powerful effect of light which disguised the foam. —Modern Pain'ers, by a Graduate of Oxford. STORIES OF THE SILVER MINES OF PERU.—The In dians have discovered that their silver mines have made their condition rather worse than better. They determine, therefore, to keep secret their knowledge of some rich veins of silver not yet explored by Europeans. Traditions of these mines have been handed down, it is supposed, from father to son, through centuries. Even brandy, which will open the Indian's mouth on any other subject, fails in this case. A few years ago there lived. in the large village of Huancayo, the brothers Don Jose and Don Pedro Irriarte, who were among tire wealthiest mine proprietors of Peru. As they had reason to suspect the existence of rich unexplored veins among the neighbouring hills, they sent out a young man in their employ to examine the country, and use the likeliest means of discovery. Ac cordingly, he repaired to a village, where he found lodg ings in the hut of an Indian shepherd, from whom be con cealed his object. In the course of a few months art at tachment had grown up between the young adventurer and the shepherd's daughter; and, at last, the young man succeeded so far in his object as to win from the girl a pro mise that she would point out to him the mouth of a rich silver mine. She directed him to follow her, at some dis tance, on a c-rtain day, when she should go out to tend her flock on the hills; and to notice where she dropped her " manta" (a woollen shawl). There, she told him, lie would find the entrance of the mine. The young agent obeyed her directions ; and, after some digging, found his way into a moderately deep shaft, which led to a rich vein of silver. He was busily engaged in brrakirig off some specimens of the ore when lie was surprised by the old shepherd, who congratulated him on the discovery, and of fered assistance. After working together for some hours they rested, and the Indian offered to the young man a cup of chits, which he drank. Soon after drinking lie felt unwell, and, as it suspicion of heing poisoned flashed upon his mind, he instantly packed the specimens of ore in his wallet, hastened back to the village, and thence rode to Fluancavo. He had only time to explain his adventure to his employers, and point out as well as he could, the lo cality of the mine, for he di , din the night. Another ex ploring party was immediately sent into the neighbour hood, but without success : the Indian and his family had vanished from the place, and no trace of the nine could be. discovered. Another story is the following :—A certain Franciscan monk, a passionate gambler, lived at Huan cayo. By his friendly offices he had become a favourite among the Indians, to whom he often applied when in want of money. One dip, when he had suffered losses at the hazard-table, lie begged of an Indian. who was his relative, to help him out of his poverty. The Indian pro mised assistance on the following evening; arid arrived punctually at the appointed time, with a bag full of silver ore for the monk. This process was repeated several times, until the still needy monk earnestly prayed that he might be favoured with a view of the source from which his wants had been so often supplied. This request also was granted by the friendly relative ; and, accordiegly, on the appointed night, three Indians came to the house of the Franciscan, desired that he would allow them to ban dage his eyes, and, lie assenting, carried him away on their shoulders, some miles among the mountains. There they lifted Lim down, conducted Aim dread a thart - Or tittle depth, and displayed to him a rich and shining vein of sil ver. When he had amply feasted his sight, and taken ore enough for his present necessities, his eves were again ban daged, and he was carried home on the shoulders of his guides. On the road he slily untied his rosary, and dropped a bead here and.there, that be might have a clue to the mile. Arrived at home, he lay down to rest. in the comfortable hope of exploring the path to wealth on the following day ; but, in the course of about two hours, the Indian, his relative, came to the door, with his hand full of beads, " Father," said he, as be gave them to the monk, " you lost your rosary on the road !"—Dr. Tschudi's Per's. AN ANCIENT STRONGHOLD.—There is a very remark able subterranean labyrinth, which would alone seffice to render this island (Milo) extremely interesting, from th - singularity and ingenuity of its construction, and from its great antiquity, the extent of which it is imposs ble to de termine, although its existence is known historically as a work already ancient after the Peloponnesian war, from its connexion in a very striking manner with the fate of Sopyrus, last king of Milo, about that period. Even with the assistance of a correct plan of this extraordinary laby rinth, it is no easy matter to give a distinct idea of its na ture, or of its admirable adaptation to the purpose for which it evidently was first contrived—that of a defence to the country. Its turnings and windings, carried down considerably below the level of the sea, are very intricate, and the means of concealment, as well as the precautions taken against attack, most cunningly devised. It is indeed a strange memento of the degradation to which the human race may fall, since they could so prey the one upon the other, and the weaker party were forced thus to burrow like moles in the earth, hunted down by their own fellow creatures. Even now that its secrets are known to all cu rious eyes it is hardly possible to discover the entrance to this subterranean stronghold, so cleverly had it been ar ranged to deceive the eye, as merely a small natural chasm in the rock. Having passed the outer cavern into which this opens, a flight of steps leads down, as it would seem, to the very depths of the earth. The darkness is of course intense, and the air, though far from cold, has that heavy, lifeless chill which is always produced by the total absencti of all those warm per fumes with which it is impregnated when exposed to the influences of a living nature. A. very ingenious contrivance for defence already pre sents itself at this point—a solid wall of stone faces those steps, and would seem to terminate the vault altogether, but it contains two arrow holes, through which these or or any other deadly missile might he directed against the persons descending the stairs, which communicate with a concealed chamber behind, only accessible by an im mense circuit from the other end of the labyrinth. The workmanship of this curious place is all the more extraor dinary that there is no building whatever, and the whole intricate web, as it were, of chambers and passages, is entirely hewn out of the rock. Taking an abrupt turn from ihe direction in which the stairs would seem to lead, a low narrow passage, which a man can enter orly on his hands and knees, branc).es off suddenly, and is met at some distance by a similar contrivance to that already described ; it then doubles again, and after winding about somewhat as if it were a path formed by a gigantic serpent as it pierced its way through the earth arid terminates in a second flight of steps. From these a narrow vomitory leads past two chambers, where a few men stationed un seen might do deadly execution on those attempting to penetrate further ; and finally, after descending several times, and twisting round almost in a circle, it opens into a large chamber which is arranged with benches fashioned in the wall, and a fountain in the centre. It has also a communication with the upper world by means of a cre vice in the rock, the work half of nature half of art, slanting upwards, so that no advantage can be taken of it from the outside even were it perceived. Beyond this again there is a little chamber yet more secret, which was the last refuge and ultimately the tomb of Sopyrus, the conquered king of Milo. It is related that be and his people had sided with the Lacedtemonians, and after the war the exasperated Athenians, determined to avenge themselves, came down upon Milo with their armies and speedily subdued the whole island. As soon as all hope was over, and the doom of the unfortunate king but too certain, he fled to these subterranean caverns, whose ex- istence was unkown to the enemy, and concealed himself in the labyrinth. Here he lay hid, it is said, for several weeks, the peasants supplying him with food, through the opening which has been described in the large chamber ; at last the men having been observed to carry provisions to that quarter, suspicion was excited, and a minute search bitying been made of the whole ground, his retreat was discovered—still with such means of defence as this labyrinth has been shown to possess, it was not taken without a long resistance. • The Athenians bed to fight their way inch by inch, and they finally drove Sopyrus with a few of his followers into the very inmost cell. Even here he made so resolute a stand, that they termi nated the whole business in a summary and most hor rible manner. They heaped up wood and straw before the one narrow inlet, to which they set fire, and soon sti fled the unfortunate king, who thus died as cruel a death as could well be conceived ; buried deep in the heart of the earth, with the fire all around, from which there was no escape, eating its way towards him.—Dublin Univer sity Magazine. A flower, a tree, a fly. has been enough to give me a delightful train of ideas and emotions.—Foster. THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. THE WEST INDIES AND THEIR TAXATION. (From the Jamaica Despatch of September sth.) If a chance exists by which the West Indian planter can hope to survive the ruinous measure which has first evi denced the return to power of a destructive ministry, that chance rests solely on such a reduction of his expenditure as may place him on a footing with the Spanish colonist. Wages must be brought down—taxes must be greatly re duced. If Great Britain determines recklessly to doom to destruction a body of loyal eons who have invested their capital, under the faith of British laws, in the soil of the colonies, Great Britain must be prepared to pay the cost of that government which she chooses to maintain over those ruined colonies. Whence, under present cir cumstances is to be derived the amount of 'revenue neces sary to uphold in its present scale the machinery of go vernment hitherto provided for by our legislature ? They who profess to believe that the admission of slave sugar will not be so ruinous as is generally imagined, still admit that a vast number of estates now cultivated must be thrown up. Are the remaining estates—those few that can struggle for an existence amidst surrounding ruin— are these to bear the amount of taxation, at all times grievous, but which has hitherto been divided among so much greater a number? Perhaps there is no country under Heaven in which, in comparison to its income, the public and parochial taxation is so enormous as it is in Jamaica. The net value of our exports this year hardly exceeds £1,200,000, and our public taxation, expended in the civil and ecclesiastical government of the country, amounts to £400,000, or nearly so—one-third of our pro ductive industry is bestowed for the mere purpose of pay ing the charges of government. How can this continue How are we practically to controvert the old maxim, Ex nihilo nihil fit ? How, when the mother country has de clared that the staple out of which all our revenue springs shall be sold also at a rate that will not pay for its pro duction—how are we to maintain the establishment of a Viceroy at a cost of some ten thousand pounds per an num ?—how can we support a judicial establishment en tailing an annual expenditure of £60,000, including £19,000 for salaries to to judges ?—how shall we find means to maintain a police force ?—how, in fact, are we to raise £400.000 per annum out of a beggared population? In 1834. the public revenue raised by taxation, amounted only to £74 000 sterling, and we were not worse governed. If the expenses of judicature were comparatively nothing, the laws were administered as impartially, and although we had not the loamy of viewing three lavender-robed judges solemnly seated in Banco. justice was not the less easily and far more speedily attainable. We have now an array of judges. great and small, whose united salaries amount to one-fourth of the whole amount of public re venue raised in 1814—and to these we have added an ex penditure of some £40,000 for a police force, and we find crime increased 100 per cent. since that period. Why should we need greater and more expensive establishments than we did in 1834? Is it because we have receded in prosperity—because we are less able now than we were twelve years ago to bear our public burthens? Commerce was flourishing then, and our agriculture had not felt the blighting effects of the Emancipation Act—we were then content to take the law from a learned chief justice, who, on his part, considered his independence sufficiently se cured by an annual vote of £2,400 per annum. Mais nous aeons change ( tout cela. The public revenue of £74,000 in 1834 has reached £380,000 in 1846. and we defy any one to tell us what public good has resulted out of this enormous increase of taxation. It is manifest that we can no longer meet it—and it behoves all classes of the community to unite in resisting the further imposi tion of such a burthen upon an impoverished people. This is a question in which all are interested. The sugar planter, the coffee grower, and especially the small settler, the labourer—all are deeply interested in reducing the burthens which a lavish and inconsiderate legislature have imposed upon the people. With this view, there should he meetings throughout the island. Let no member go down to the House in the approaching session without in structions from his constituents on this important qtrs. tion. Economy or ruin are the alternatives. It cannot be said that a reduction of our present expenditure will involve a breach of faith. When present Establishments were erected, and present salaries fixed, our position was widely. different. The interests of agricuture, from which all revenue ultimately proceeds, are now paralysed—who is to pay the taxation of the country if it be impossible with the same pressure as hitherto ? Even the import duty cannot remain at its present amount, supposing the prudence should admit of its re-enactment at all. The wages of the labourer must be reduced, and the principal argument which has been used against any reduction in the price of labour is, that the high price of provisions caused by the import duty has rendered a reduction im possible, or at least unjust. If we are to be endanger , d by free trade from abroad, surely we are entitled to free trade at home. We hope, therefore, to find our countrymen up and stirring throughout the island. A meeting in every parish, and in every district, should be convened, and a petition signed by a ll glasses in favour of reduced taxation. Wherever the burthen can be thrown off entirely, an ef fort should be made to do so. The cost of the Executive Government should be paid by England altogether, and her increased revenue from slave sugar would enable her to do this without her being sensible of it. There seems to be no equitable or just reason why the colony should pay for a vice-regal establishment, when the means of making a provision for it have been mercilessly torn from us by the present government. THERE SHALL BE NO MORE SEA.—A ship is resting on the ocean ; it is the middle watch ; there is not a breath of wind; the sails flap on the masts. The wheel is use less in the steersman's hands; there is a great calm ; the waters are still, as though in expectation of some coming event. Toe moon looks down silently on the fair deck of the stately vessel; all nature seems to listen ; the sailors of the watch can no longer tell the story of former dan gers; sileptly they senz% unward at the quiet eitv,.. and little heed they that their last peril is at hand. ! in a moment, in a twinkling of an eye, the bright blue sky hath become black, the face of the golden moon has changed to blood—a tempest lashes the angry waves ! It is the last storm. The ocean is writhing in its dying agony ; the fiat has gone forth and there shall be no more sea! What of the night, mariner, what of the nit hi ? Again there is light in the heavens; the blood-red moon bath passed away ; the streaks of a dawn, brighter than ever yet illumined the horizon of the once again stilly ocean, blend with the fires of a burning world. It is " the last day !" The waters sink ; the dry land appears ; the dead of the battle and the wreck awake again to life ; and the ocean-murders which the waters have covered, as with a shroud, are revealed ; the dead are living witnesses against their murderers. Mainer, what of the morn ? There is no more sea. Lo ! the ships of a thousand na vies add their wrecks to the fires of the last day. Their crews stand before " the great white throne," and the " workings" of many days shall be a fearful " reckon ing." Oh ye whose business has been in " the great waters," ye who have gone " down to the sea in ships and seen the wonders of the Lord," have ye glorified Him ? Ye who have %tapered to and fro like drunken men in the storm, and been at your " wits' end," when He bath. in answer to prayer, said to the waves " Peace, be still," base ye praised Him ? Praised Him in a life devoted to his service, from whom cometh help? Has Christ been the anchor of your souls? Has your com pass pointed Zion-ward? Ah ! ye who now walk the deck in the pritle of seamanship, remember such will be the questions, master and mariner, captain and ship's company, must answer to their own souls and unto the " judge of the whole earth," at the " last day," when there shall be " no more sea."— The Last Day. IRISH EVICTIONS.—Those who have never known what it is to have anxieties as to a provision for them selves or their families. a want of reflection tray lead to the commission of acts that their better judgment would tell them was wholly indefensible. "The wounds I might have healed The humnn sorrow and smart ! And yet it never was in my soul To play so ill a part. But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart I" And so it is but too often : when it is considered that the small holding of the poor occupier stands between him and beggary, thouli the possession may seem insignifi cant, and the provision a poor one, we cannot wonder at the tenacity with which he clings to it ; his wants are few and easily satisfied; his patience and his natural light heartedness make his condition bearable, insupportable as that condition must otherwise be. In the beautiful lan guage of a young poet— " The shelter that kept out weather and winds Had the magical name of home; A w , rd that is dearer to v.nglish minds Than palace or lordly dome. There were garments rude, and homely food, For a little loving band ; And a wife was there. once young and fair To clasp the horny hand, And bless it—through God—that its strength could give,' Not store for old age, but the means to live I For the poor have hearts, and 'tis thought they know A feeling of joy trom one of woe." Let us for a morn nt suppose ourselves in the place of the evicted tenant. We see those most dear to us—and the affection of the Irish peasant for his family is proverbial —threatened with absolute ruin, for the sake of carrying out some projected improvement: and how should we feel towards him who made the happiness of his fellow-crea tures of such little account, that he prefer 3 the improve ment of his land, accompanied by our misery and wretch edness, to the attempt at the improvement of the same land, accompanied by our happiness and prosperity ? We surely must regard him as heartless and tyrannical- It is humiliating to us as men, that so little value should beset on our happiness ; it is humiliating to us as Christia ns , living in a Christian country, that the precepts of th a t Gosi.el which we profess to believe, should be thus openly violated, and that we should so far forget one of the two commandments on which hang all the law and the pro pht is—" thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself." B u t by a righteous retribution, m isdeeds, even in thi s wor l d, by whomsoever perpetrated, bring their own punishment along with them. The carrying out of the clearance gy s ., tem reacts upon the very improvement it is intended to advance and obstructs it. The tenant who is permitted to remain must feil that it is not from any regard to himself, but probably from his being more wealthy, or having a better house than his poorer neighbour, that he is allowed to enjoy it; and though he will not be sorry to get an in. crease to his farm, yet he will, and he must, feel the wrong that has been inflicted on another • be will know that the same thing may h-ppen to himself, should, at a future time, fresh measures of improvement seem to require hi s removal ; his exertions are paralyzed, for he knows that immutable as the truths of eternal justice are said to be, they have no existence for him. The frame of sod, ty at large is shaken by such acts, the social ties are broken, the links that bind man to man are severed, the observati ens of the moi alist and the philosopher, on the mutual de pendence of man upon his fellows, is felt to be a mockery and delusion, and the ;try name of improvement becomes associated with human suffering, its track marked by roof less dwellings and starving children—its history written hi the tears of the widow and the orphan.—Dublin Univer sity Magazine. MEXICAN HIGHWAYMEN. Robbers in Mexico are what pedlars used to be in Eng land ; they keep up the life in the villages, plunder wher ever they can, cheat where they cannot plunder, ride stout horses, and lead, on the whole, a varied, and sometimes a very gay life. One of the American travellers saw, at one of the villages where the stage changed horses, a dashing and picturesque figure gaudily dressed, who rode by on a handsome horse, richly caparisoned. On inquiring if the coachman knew him, the answer was that he knew him perfectly well, and that he was captain of a band of rob bers who had plundered the stage several times since the whip and reins had been in his bands. On the American urging the question why he had not brought the robber to punishment the answer was, " that he would be sure to be shot by some of the band the next time he passed the road ;" the honour of Mexican thieves being peculiarly nice upon this point. It appeared that the dashing horse man had gone through the village on a reconnoissance, but probably not liking the obvious preparations of the travellers, had postponed his capture. The mode of managing things in this somnolent country is remarkable for its tranquillity. The American, who narrates the circumstance, had taken wi , h him from Vera Cruz four dragoons; but on accidentally inquiring on the road into the state of their arms, he found that but one carabine had a lock in fighting order, and even that one was not loaded ; on which he dismissed the guard, and trusted to his companions, who were well armed. The Mexican travellers, taking the matter in another way, never carry arms, but prepare a small purse " to be rob bed of," of which they are robbed accordingly. A few miles from Perote the road winds round a high hill, and the passengers generally get nut and walk. The Americans on tnis occasion had left their arms in the carriage, but their more prudent chef immediately ordered them to carry them in their hallos, and in the course of their ascent they pounced upon a group of ruffians whom the driver pronounced to be robbers ; and aho, but for their arms, would probably have attacked them. In less than a month aft , r this, five or six Americans having left their arms in the stage at this soot, were attacked, and stripped of every cent. belonging to them. It must be owned that this country has fine advantages for the gentlemen of the road. The highway between Vera Cruz and Mexico is the great conduit of life in this coun try. Nearly all the commerce goes by that way, and 99 out of every 100 travellers pass by the same route. The chief portion of the road is through an absolute desert. It frequently winds up the sides of mountains, and then is bordered by forests of evergreens, forming a capital shel ter for the land pirate, the whole being a combination of tiounalow-heath and Sbooter's-bill on a grand scale, and making highway robbery not merely a showy but a safe speculation, the gaming table being the chief recruiting office for the whole battalion of Mercury. The statistics of gaming might borrow a chapter from Mexico. The passion for play is public, universal, and unbounded. It is probably even superior to the passion for pulque. Every one plays, and plays for all that he is worth in the world, and often for more. But he has his resource—the road. A man who has lost his last dollar, but who is determined to play on till be dies, lays himself under strong temptations of coveting his neighbour's goods. The hour when the stages pass is known to every one; the points of the road where they must go slowly up the bill, are familiar to all highway recollections. Asso ciates are expeditiously found among the loiterers, who, after their own ruin, sit round the room watching the luck of others. The band is formed in a moment ; they take the road without delay, post themselves in the ever greens, enjoy the finest imaginable prospect, and breathe the most refreshing air, until the creaking of the coach wheels puts them on the alert. They then exhibit their weapons, the passengers produce their little purses, the stage is robbed of everything portable, or convertible into cash, the band return to the gaming table, fling out their coin, and play till they are either rich or ruined once more. Some time after an adventure, such as we have descri bed, the stage was robbed near Puebla by a gang, all of whom had the appearance of gentlemen. When the ope ration of rifling every body and everything was completed, one of the roh , Jers observed " that they must not be looked on as professional thieves, for they were gentlemen ; but having been unfortunate at play, they were forced to put the company to this inconvenience for which they re quested their paricular pardon." An incident of this order occurring in the instance of a public personage, some years before, long excited remark able interest. The Swiss Consul had been assassinated at noon-day. A carriage had driven up to his door, out of which three men came, one in the dress of a priest. On the doors being opened they seized and gagged the porter, rushed into the apartment where the Consul was sitting, murdered and robbed him, and then retreate.l. None knew whence they came, or whither they went; but the murdered man in his dying stiuggle had torn a button of the coat of one of the robbers, which they found still clenched in his hand. A soldier was shortly after seen with more money than he could account for. Susioicion naturally fell upon him ; his quarters were searched, and one of his coats was torn off. He was convicted, but re lied on a pardon through the Colonel Yanez, chief aide de-cartp of the President Santa Anna, who was his accom pl:ce in the transaction. On being brought out for execu tien, and placed on the fatal bench where criminals are strangled, he cried out " Stop, I will acknowledge my ac complices;" and he pronounced the name of the colonel. Scare!! was immediately made in the house of Yanez, and a letter in cipher was found connecting him with this and other robberies. This letter was left in the hands of one of the judges. Ile was offered a large sum to destroy it, and refused. In a few days after be was found dead, as was supposed, by poison. The paper was then transferred to another judge, who was offered the same bribe, and who promised to destroy it; but, on conferring with his prfest, though he took the money, he shrank from the ac tual destruction of the document, and kept it io silence. itaaa: was brought to trial, and believing that the paper was no longer in existence, treated the charge with con tempt. Tie paper was produced, and the aide-de camp was condemned and executed.—Biackwood. FRENEY'S RIDE. (From The Knight of Gwynned " Have you h• and the news of the notorious robber be ing taken ?" said Lionel. Who do you mean? Barrington, is it ?" " No ; Freney." . . Preney ! taken—when—how—where?" " It's curious enough," said Lionel, coolly, se4ting him self to read the paragraph without noticing the eagerness of Daly's manner ; " the fellow seems to have a taste for snorting matters, which no personal fear could eradicate. His capture took place this wise. He went over to Don caster, to be present at the Spring Meeting, where he betted freely, and won largely. There happened, how ever. to come a reverse to his fortune, and on the last day of the running he lost every thing, and was obliged to ap ply for assistance to a former come anion, who, it would seem, was some hundred pounds in his debt ; this worthy having no desire to refund, threatened the police. Freney became exasperated, knocked him down on the spot, anti then turning smartly round, chucked one of the jockeys from his saddle, sprang on the horse's back, and made off like lightning : the other, only stunned fora moment, was soon on his legs again, and the cry of Freney !it was Freney, the robber resounded throughout the race course. The scene must then have been a most exciting One. for the whole mounted population, with one accord, gave chase. Noblemen and country gentlemen, fox•hun ters, farmers, and black-legs, away they went, Freney about a quarter of a mile in front, and riding splendidly.' " That I'm sure of," said Daly, earnestly ; •' go on." " Mellington took the lead of every one, mounted on that great steeple-chase horse he is so proud of—no fences too large for him, they say—but the robber—and what a good judge of country the fellow'must be— left the heavy ground, and preferred even breasting a long hill of grass land with several high rails, to the open country below, where the clay soil distressed his horse. By this manoeu vre, says the newspaper, he was obliged to make a circuit which again brought the main body of his pursuers close up with him, and now his dexterity as a horseman beCame apparent, for while riding at top speed, and handling his horse with the most perfectjudgment, he actually contrived to divest himself of his heavy great coat. He had but just accomplished this very difficult task, when Lord Melling ton once more came up: there was a heavy dyke in front, with a double post and rail, and at this they rushed des perately, each, apparently, calculating on the other being thrown, or at least checked. Freney, now only a dozen strides in advance, turned in his saddle, and drawing a pistol from his breast, took an aim—as steadily, too, as if firing at a mark, Lord Mellington saw the dreadful purpo s e of the robber, be shouted aloud, and pulling up with all his might, he bent down to the very mane of his horse. Freney pulled the trigger, and with one mad plunge Lord Mellington's horse came head foremost to the ground with his rider undrr him. Freney was not long the victor, the racer he be strode breasted the high rail, and unable to clear it, fell heavily forward, smashing the frail timbers before him, and pitching the rider on his head. He was up in a se cond and away ; for about twenty yards his speed was im mense. then reeling, he staggered forwards and fell sense less: before he rallied he was taken, and in handcuffs. — There, is a description of the fellow," said Lionel, " and by Jove, one would think that they were describing some wild denizen ot the woods, or some strange animal ot sa vage life, so eloquent is the paragraph about his appear ance and personal strength." STATISTICS OF WESLEYANISIC — The Wesleyan Con ference territorially covers every parish in England, with 1,685 ministers under its orders, 15,000 local preachers, and 30,000 leaders, stewards, and trustees, with 468,313 members of society acknowledging its sway, and perhaps 2,000,C00 hearers affording their countenance. The im mense amount of their chapel and other real property bas been estimated at more than three millions sterling ; while the annual revenue of the body, from every source, is probably not much less than a million. The income of their missionary society for the year 1845-6 was more than £112,000; in 1840, by a mighty effort, £171,687 of chapel debts were extinguished, and the Centenary Fund lell little short of a quarter of a million. The product of the weekly pence and quarterly shillings [these are mi nima) contributed in the classes—of the yearly and July collections—suffices for the maintenance (in far greater average comfort than any other body of Christian minis ters) of more than fifteen hundred ministers, with their wives and families : fur perhaps no married minister re ceives less than an equivalent of £175 per annum, and erhaps none more than £350. The Theological Insti tutions at Richmond and Didebury contain seventy-four students ; the Kingswood and Woodhouse-grove schools provide for the education of two hundred pupils ; Propri etary Schools have been established at Sheffield and Taunton ; the last return shows that their Sunday schools are attended by aomo scholars ; and of the 700 day. schools which it was determined to form at the close of 1843, more than one-half have been already called into existence.—Church of England Quarterly .Revieso. CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. (From the Gloucester Journal.) The Leeds Intelligencer affords us a somewhat curious illustration of what is meant by "civil and religious liberty," by those who find it a very easy and convenient theme for after dinner eloquence. Our contemporary, describing a confirmation holden at Woodhouse. by the Lord Bishop of Ripon, says—" ll is Lordsiiip's vi-it was attended with an esoec'al interest, and will, we doubt not. be long remembered by many, from the circumstrance of his holding a confirmation during the evening service, for the benefit of some youna persons who had nut been al lowed to leave their work to attend the confirmation one Friday afternoon. His lordship's kiniine , s in doing so was deeply felt by the clergy, and was calculated to make a strong impression on the young persons themselves. and we hope may not be lost noon those who threw hindrances in the way of their making a aolLtnn religious profession." We do not quote this as being by any means extraor dinary. " Civil and religious liberty," does not mean confirmation, or any other rite of that old harlot, the Church of England. It does not mean " liberty" to join in her ceremonies, or make a profession of leer faith. It means " liberty'' to abuse and malign her—" liberty" to erect the meeting-house on her ruins. It is a one-sided " liberty," and its great advocates have no no , ion of any thing so absurd as al:owing the children in their factories and workshops to go to church to be confirmed. Thai is not the sort of " liberty" they have expended their breath upon. If it had been an Anti-Corn-Law tea-party, or a nice little scheme for bagging pence to build a dissenting chapel, there would have been no earthly objection to sending the children to swell the crowd or the wallet ; but a confirmation by a bishop! Turn the tables. Suppose some clurchman had refused permission to the children in his mills to take part in some ranting jubilee. Would there ever have been an end to the pious horror which the intolerable bigotry would have awakened ? We dread to think of the torrent of ex ecration with which the whole Church and every Church man would have been visited. The Non,:onforns'at would have choked with indignant wails ; the Patriot would have groaned in agony of spirit at the villainy and tyran nicil injustice ; and every pulpit orator in the land would have sent forth his richest stores of Establishment abuse at so flagrant an instance of blind bigotry. But there is no bigotry with these gentry out of the Church of Eng land. It world be bigotry worthy almost of flame and sword for a Churchman to " throw hindrances hi the was of" Dissenters " making a solemn religious profession ;" but the same thing in a dissenter ia—" civil and religi ous liberty." THE AMERICAN FREE TRADE TARIFFS. It is now near some fifteen months ago that Mr. Web ster, the distinguished American lawyer and senator, delivered a memorable speech at Faneuil-hall, in Phila• dclphia, in defence of native industry. He clearly showed that the infant manufactures of the United States would be strangled by competition with the matured establish ments of Great Britain. He showed that the policy of protection had been sanctioned by the patriotism of Washington, the sagacity of Jefferson, and the calm sense of Madison. He told the small trade , men of Boston that thsir labours would be superseded by the influx of foreign produce, and that all those occupations in which men with - moderate means were masters, would be swamped by the monied leviathans, and that, when too late, they would behold masses of labour ground between masses of capital. His warning voice was disre4arded. The Legislature of Americt, bitten by the free-trade mania, determined to open their ports to British manu factures, in gratitude to Sir Robert Peel, who had opened our ports to the agricultural produc. of America. and the beeinning of the end is now being shadowed forth in the distance, and not indistinctly. Ttie New York corres pondent of the Times, who writes under the signature of " A Genevese Traveller," in his communication of the 15th September; gives a most gloomy account of the state of trade in the United States. He is fully competent to form an accurate judgment on the subject; he has re sided many years in the country, and has a very re sponsible duty to perform. Let our readers, then, ponder over the following sentences, which we extract from this letter:— " Everything in relation to business is in a state of un certainty ; nil present importations are made on a falling market, while the season for commercial operations is ra pidly gliding away. Among tie importers of dry goods, the month of September is presumed to decide, in some measure, the character of the season for business. It is in this month that our jobber generally make their largest purchases. This is a class of dealers between the importer and the country merchant. If any opinion is to be formed of the business of the season, by the purchases they have made, tt at opinion will be unfavourable. Their purchases have been cautious and limited, principally at auction. Tne auction sales of domestic manufactures, when com pared with foreign fabrics, have been large. Under the influence of the new tariff, the manufacturers, in most cases, appear ro be panic-stricken, and are emptying their warehouses, and sending the contents to public suction. In most cases. sales are effected at a very great loss, com pared to the selling prices previous to the passage of the new tariff. Whether, by reducing the price of the raw material, and the wages of the labourer, &c., they can obtain enough by these auction sales to reelace their old stock, is the great question. if they can, they will be sa tisfied to run their manu'actories for a year or two, with out the expectation or hope of obtaining o cent. of pro fit, butt in the full belief that the next Congress will re peal the present tariff law." The italics are our own. But what does the whole 'ex tract denote but a downward career in prosperity ? Ame rican labour is about to be crushed under the giant wheels of British machinery. Native industry is to be victimised by Foee Trade, by a fearful cnoinetition ; and how are the capitalists to stand their ground? By reducing the wages of their labourers. A notable scheme surely to giva hap piness to a maj-rity of the people. The bucks and swells of New York are to he indulged in cheap foreign clothing, just as Sir RQhert Peel proposed that the idle rich among ourselves should be enabled to buy cheap carriages from Belgium. But c hat is the ultimate hope of the American producers? Why, that Congress shau:d retrace its steps and revive Proteclonist principles, which is the very policy of our own Conservatives in reference to domestic agriculture. Thus on both sides of the Atlantic there appear to have been settlements which settle nothing—a pretty strong evidence that the world is not growing older in wisdom.—Newcastle Journal. THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. The Morning Post, of Wednesday, contains a letter of some length, from the pen of Richard (hastier, Esq.. conveying an emphatic and solemn appeal to the religious Principles of . the country, in reference to the dearth in Ireland, which the writer, justly bel eying that such visi tations " do not come by chance or without a purpose," ascribes as a punishment for the national sin of forget ing God, and setting up man's wisdom in the place of His, in the Councils of the Kingdom and the public acts of He State. The following extract from the concluding part of it will afford a pretty clear understanding of the tenor of this address, and supply subj ct for reflection : " We have shut the Bible and closed the books of the Church. We have thrown away the reins that curbed our passio..is and our lusts. We have unbridled our covetous ness—corrupted and silenced our Church—encouraged idolatry—oppressed the poor—and forgotten God! And, trusting to the wily and crafty sons of science and philoso phy, we have laughed at his laws—we have made his threatenines the subjects of derision! And what then? Our triumph is complete ! Last year a bill was enacted by Parliament for the express purpose of removing the name and influence of God from the education of the people. By the Irish Colleges Act, it was dared, for the that time in the history of Ws country, to frame a Government measure whereby it was declared, that the only power whom the people could not tolerate was the power of the Almighty ! Yes, human wisdom has obtained its tri umph! Truth languishes, idolatry is rampant, commerce is emancipated, labour is free, and the poor are reduced to live upon the coarsest sort of food!' But, whet then, I ask ? Is prosperity the fruit of our aban donment of the principles of our old Constitution? Does plenty crown our rejection of the word of Go.; ? Are the people made better and happier by this tri umph of cold and pitiless philosophy over the holy and life-giving principles of Divine Truth ? No ! The triumphing of the wicked is short !' No sootier was the top stone to the temple of human wisdom ele vated—at the very moment when the last attack on our constitutional proteCtive principle succeeded—just when the owners of capital had removed the only remaining impediment to their uninterrupted tyranny—even before the session of Parliament had closed that crowned their efforts, by granting them unlimited freedom of action (of that Parliament which, by its determined adhesion to the New Poor Law, had refused to acknowledge the right of the poor to any share of Nature's bounty, or even to "the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table,")—yes, when philosophy was indeed rampant over religion, and when man fancied that he had proved himself to be wiser and stronger than God—then the whole scheme of man's invention was thrown into confusion ; and, before the session was prorogued, the lie was by themselves stamped upon every preceding Act? In terror and dis may the right of the poor was recognised by law—even in Ireland, where hitherto for wages, the owners of pro perty had conceived they had a right to starve or banish the people at their pleasure! " The affrighted philosophic legislators, who had so often coolly ' argued the case,' and had always cruelly de cided against the right of the poor, were, in the moment of alarm, in defiance of every principle of their creed, constrained by dire necessity, to pass a law, giving to the poor of Ireland (!) a RIGHT to put their hands into the pockets of the rich, and, without limit, therefrom to ex act all that they required ! Nay, more, if money cannot be found in the coffers of the Irish landlords, by that law they are compelled to borrow from England, on the se curity of their estates, as many millioes of pounds as the poor shall need ! Those immense sums, thus wrung i n terror from the Irish landlords, being cubject to repay ment with interest. Thus has the RIGHT of the poor to sustenance been recognised by the philosophers them selves—they had no time, no power, to argue. In a mo ment of alarm and terror they conveyed the Irish estates from the Lords to Ibe paupers! " Philosophy had done its work—it had reduced the poor to live on the coarsest sort of food'—when, by a power that philosophy can neither control nor compre hend, that ' food' was withheld ! Yes, sir. philosophy had unbarred the gate on universal competition—when by the same power the course of trade was suddenly clogged, end those who, by their representatives in Par liament, had successfully resisted every effort to regulate the r manufactures on the principle of humanity, were forced to seek shelter from ruin in ' shorter hours of labour,' " Tile sounds of triumph linger in our ears, only to be silenced by the howling!, of despair! " It is now admitted, even by the Queen's ministers, Oct. 13, 11448. that all the boasted hurnau abiiity is vain—an order itt Council having been issued, by which we are directed to offer up a prayer to that same Almighty Power whom we have in vain attempted to dethrone, to sue humbly before him for relief in the distressing visitation under which we now suffer. Relief is to be implored; but, as yet, not one word is uttered by the Church, the Queen, or the Government upon the imperative necessity of the re acknowledgment of the supremacy of God, of strict obedience to his laws, and of the entire conformity of the principles of our legislation to his holy word. No authori tative injunction has been promulgated, to curb our selfishness, by commanding every man to look to his own daily consumption food, with a spirit of willingness to forego all unnecessary consumption thereof ; thus pro viding an enlarged store for the destitute by a sacrifice on the part of the affl uen t." " I do not believe that famine comes by chance. I be lieve that there is a special cause for the blight oL the po tatoes. I know that, in defiance of every principle laid down in the Word of God, and acknowledged by His Church, millions of labourers have been reduced to live on that •' coarse food," and that under the recommenda tion of Bishops of our Church, laws have been made for the avowed purpose of forcing millions more to live on the fame rmt, or, as they express it, " a coarser sort of food." I know, also, that in the moment of the triumph of those principles of selfishness on which that inhuman scheme W3i founded ,potatoes were blighted! . It is our duty to discover the cause of this visitation, not by the study o human philosophy, hut b y the humble and persevering search for truth in the Hole Bible." SOMETHING NEW. In this week's Pictorial Times is contained a sketch of a street fitted wi'h railway omnibus trains, and electric message delivery telegraphs. We are inclined to think, says the Railway Times, that this sketch will prove rather more amusing than practical, but, nevertheless, the ob servations which accompany it in the pages of our con temporary, are not unworthy of consideration. It seems that a new company is about to be started for the pur pose of establishing lines for telegraph communication along the streets of the metropolis. The following is the proposition as it appeared in the Pictorial Times:— " Public messa:e delivery stations will be established, one in every populous neighbourhood. These will com municate with each other, and with one grand central de par. An organised corps of messengers will be connected. with the establishment, who will at once proceed with • messages to such parties to whom communications may be. addressed. Lw; rates of charges will be adopted, that the convenience may be easily accessible to all classes of the community. " The utility of the proposed scheme must be obvious. The Horse Guards could have a line direct to the Tower, and an order from Government be delivered and acted upon in a few moments. It is impossible, in fact, to say any limits could be placed upon the useful operation of such an establishment, as the Public Mrs-age Delivery Company promises to be, and as we have been favoured with two engravings, illustrative of the process by which the wires are made ti traverse the streets, and feeling that the capability ani utility. which alone encourage the pro moters to proceed with the scheme, deserves notice, we have readily admitt=•d them into our columns, to gratify the curiosi v which must be excited by the announcement of such a company Lein about to be formed." How far this novel affair will succeed time only can show. At all events it is something to amuse us in these dull times. "LOVE NEVER DIES."—On Saturday, at Pyle, Mr. Thos. Harding, of the parish of Newton Nottage, aged 69 years, was married to Mrs. Mary Austin, of Pyle. aged 71 years,—their united ages being 140 years! It is said in their youthful dais—nearly 50 years ago—they had been "sweethearts"—bad quarrelled—parted—and had now, after an intervaLof half a century, redeemed those pledges of affection, *high, in the heyday of their youth, they made to each other. Such is the course of love ! JOIST STOCK COMPANIES.-We learn from a parlia mentary return, th4t before September, 1844, when the. act 7 and 8 Victnria, cap. 110. to regulate joint-stock companies was pa , sed, there were 991 companies in ex istence ; and that from November, 1844, to June last, as many as " 1.633 companies were provisionally registered." Railways form the principal feature in the provisionally registered companies. Such compsnies are required to be completed end registered within twelve months, and it appears that of the 1,633 companies called into existence only 115 were completed. _ _ A SPEAKING LARK. —d'i'e have often heard of speak ing p,rrots end speaking starlings, but we have never be fore heard of such a rare avis as the bird which " soars to heaven's gate" changing its meloi )us warbling to the imitation of the human voice. There is at present, howe ver, in the possession of Mr. Muir. hairdresser, Kirkaldy, a lark of this description. Mr. Muir has been very suc cessiul in rearing starlings, and, with attention and the benefit of example, the lark has picked up the numerous sentences used be a s•arling reared by Mr. Muir. The lark witl occasionally stop short in his song, and, looking towards its owner, if engaged in conversation with a stranger, put the query, " What e o you say, sir ?" to the no small as'onishment of the visitor.—Fife Hoed. NEW DRAPERY ESTABLISHMENT.—MeSSrS. Little and Byers' new drapery establishment, at the top of Lime street, opens to-day, with a splendid stock of goods of every description.—See advt. DEAFNESS.—Mr. Swift, aurist, regrets the disappoint ment his numerous patients met on his last visit to Liver the place being closed without his knowledge, so that he had not time to say to where he had removed. Mr. Swift hes got excellent accommodation elsewhere, as may be seen from an adyert 4 sement, and will attend his rooms on Monday and Tuesday. _ _ The Dreadnoniht tio.pital-hip and St. Thomas Hos pital again outdone in the cure of wounds and ulcers by Holloway's Ointment and Pills.—John Newington, a sai lor, living in Adrian -court, Dover, was a patient on beard the Dreadnought, and again at St. Thomas' Hospital. for some weeks, for a very bad ulcerated leg of long standing, without ob'aining the least relief at either of the abo% e in stitutions, but was cured immediately afterwards by H 01- lowav's Pills and Ointment. The truth of this statement can be attested by Mr. G. Ashmore, the very respectable chemist, at Dover ! LONDON GAZ 10"1 E.-TU NBDAY, OCT. 6. PARTNERSHIPS DISSOLVED. Nicholson and Goddard, I.incoln, architects—Banks and Har rison, Birkenhead, millwrights—J. Booth and T. Thompson. Blyton and Morton, Lincolnshire, railway contractors—Moore and .1. Dale, Li erpool, shipbrokers—J. Carr and J. Bagshavr. Sheffield, grccers—W. Ingram and H, Johnson, Midhurst, Sus sex, surgeons—W. Ailceck and J. Fewkes, New Basford, Not tinghamshire, lace rnanufactitrers—L'ewellyn and Ryland, Bir mingham, britannia metal manufacturers—J. Williams and T. Welsby, Liverpool. coactimakers—T G. and J. Johnson, Omen try, brewers—H. and J. Ramsey, High-street, Poplar, auction cers—A. Moody and Co Glasgow. merchants. DECLARATIONS OF DIVIDENDS. • : R. B. Preston. Leith, Gljucestershire, coal dealer. J. Crabtree and W. Burnley, Tustead, Lancashire, woollen manufacturer. BANKRUPTCY ANNULLED. Charles Beans, Winchesrer,miller. BANKRUPTS. John Burton, Liverpool. auctioneer, Oct. 2', Nov. 23. at 1$ o'clock, at the Liverpool District Court of Bankruptcy. Solici tors, Mr. Walker. Furnival's-inn ; and Mr. Bradley, Liverpool. Offi ial assignee, Mr. Cazcnove. Liverpopl. • William Beamer. West Derby, Lancashire, joiner, Oct. 20, Nov. 13, at 11 o'clock. at the Liverpool District Court r f Rank ruptcy. Solicitors, Messrs. Norris and Co., Bedford-row; end Mr Thompson, Liverpool. Official assignee, Mr. Morr,an,.l.l - _ William Maw, Birkenhead, builder, Oct. IR, Nov. 26, at 11 o'c:ock. at the Liverpool District Court of Bankruptcy. bolicl tors. Mr. Woodroffe, Lincoln's inn; and Mr. Reade, Birkea' • head. Official assignee, Mr. Morgan, Liverpool. Edward Beney. Tunbridge. Kent, licensed victualler. Wm. Mullett, West Peckham. paper manufacturer. illiam George Grossmith, Komsey, Extra, brewer. Samuel Page, Nottingham. currier. Henry Parrati., Bristol, coach builder. .DIVIDENDS Oct. 27, B. L. M. Rothschild, Great Queen-street, Lincoln's inn.fielas, niamond merchant— Oct. 27, W. Mitchel, Finsbury- . place, South, and elsewhere, furniture dealer—Oct. 27, A. BUG nett, Bridge house place. Newington.causeway, blind maker-- Oct. 37, M. Allen, Waltham. Holy. cross. Essex, apothecary -- Oct. 27. H. Clarke, George.street; Mansion.house, lock manu facturer—Oct. C. J. Edmunds, Bluntisham, Huntingdon shire apothecary—Oct. 34, W. Chanler. Minories, chymb , t -- Oct. 31, J Garsed jun., Leeds. flax manufacturer—Oct. 29. C• Lewis. Bath, in,lseeper—Nov. g, J. Partridge. Cheltenham, coal merchant—Nuv. t, T. Read. Manchester, cigar dealer. CERTIFICATES to be granted, unless cause be shown to the contrary, on the day of meeting. Oct. 28, J. Turner, Ltielgate.hll, jeweller—Oct. 27, E Jones! Liverpool, i nrimonger—Oct. i 7, J. Carlysle, West Derby. IA! cashire, builder—Nov. 14, S. Griffiths, Wolverhampton, whole sale druggist. CERTIFICATES To be granted by the Court of Review, unless cause be shown to the contrary on or before Oct. 2:. J. Runn, baker. Por man-square. haberdasher - J• .Itr.:T i g e r; Munchester, warehouse, an—W. Watts, Doncaster. mT, M. Hobson, Great Grim,hy. Lincolnshire, corn me chan Edwards, Llansairtliraid, Mon , gomeryshbe. surge"' SCOTCH SEQUESTICATIONS. D Gray. Edinburgh. solicitor. W. Finley, Waikerton.Fifeshire. .rs.v 11-iahSAAAN l•a,CET . rm nr PRIDAY, PA RTNEKSIII l'S DISSOLVED. W. Pass and J. Jarman, Sheffield. farmers—S. Harrison, J. Kendall. ann T. Hampson, Wedneshury, Staffordshire, coach sm,ths ; as far as regaids J. Kendall—J. Stott and J Williams, Manchester, fire.eng%ne manufacturers—J. Greenhalgh, Bridge, Enid J. l'awson, Manchester, gingham manubcturers—Blind less and Fildes. Manchester, calico printers—R. Cooke an t Hodson, Manchester, hatters—M. and T. Clarke, Derby, malt , stets. DECLARATIONS OF DIVIDENDS. TT. Emanuel, Hanover-square, goldsmith. M. Emanuel, Hanover-square goldsrni h. K RUPICI ES . ANNULLED. Oct. R. Charles Paddon, Charlotte-terrace, New.cnt, Lambeth. slopseller. Oct. 2. Randle Dower, Stalybridge, Lancashire, cotton-500' BANKRUPTS. Henry Ayres, Liverpool. jeweller, Oct 23, Nov. 21, at twelve o'clock, at the Liverpnol Di trict Court of Bankruptcy. SOU. tors, Mr. Oliver. Old Jewry; and Messrs. Evans and Son, LA' verpool. Official assignee. Mr. Cazenove, Liverpool. John Rumsey, Dean-street, Shadwell, glue.piece maker. Wiliam Mar-den. Manchester, commi-sion agent. Thomas Savage, Nnnney, Sotnersetshire. butcher. Henry Charles Howells, jun., Albion chambers, St. WerberP Bristol. sharehroker. Robert Harrison, Mold, Flintshire. corn dealer. DIVIDSNDS. _ - Oct. Sn. I. Solly and ITSoly — .Tito.,St. Ma-y axe, City. wet' chants—Oct. 30, F. Macnaghten, Nicholas-lane, Lombard' street, City. merchant—Nov. 3. S. Pi.lins and R. G. Viatsoll. Gi,teshead, Durham, wine merchants. CERTIFICATES To be granted, unless cause he shown to the contrary on the day of meeting. Oct. 30, J. Gill, Liverpo 1, wine merchant—Oct. 30, C. Wood. Liver,mol. corn factor—Oct. 30, .1. Knight. Preston, Lancashire' mercer —Oct. 3 ~ A. Hall, Marchester. innkeeper. SCOTCH SEQUEhTRATION. Alexander Kyd, Edinburgh, grocer. John Lawson, Kilmarnock, plumber. Angus Sutherland Helmsdale. Sul her'andshire, fish-curet. Stephen Metcalf, Galashies. manufacturer. Shadrach Robson, Glasgow. tea merchant.