The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-11-08 00:00:00

pass 1 which 'Tweed We extract the followi French love of rn;1;fo England's iriul aPPeared ions to a humble 'chapel ar There ar and Africa in a catal lards ( occiured great satisfaction as n _ „ it profusion: 'A led to dis chuckle, 4 wi of victor inewnat crestfallen. "It was seized at Dar beard of at are so ant t was thal ks of ref :stic of .00f of get those milli We had and rrom a friend are so ht.._ Int we heard bands of the Frei —, garrisoned Dantzic at time of the Moscow campaign, and it had form' the colours of a mercantile brio. lour, commanded But our vener" Waterloo IPrown ell when the Led to I Were wan 'Nation Aft. name of ( get Vittor • a second part of " The Narcotics we indulge which was commenced stnma mny,+l., .owe mununs since, and which contains much valuable information on Opium and. Hemp, and their uses and abuses, the number concludes with " A. few facts concern ing the Turkish question:' It gives a plain recital of the leading incidents of the quarrel, and. .having shown the almost insuperable difficulties which Russia would hay. 4 a_ t_ ..."u Do encounter before stir vould obtain possession of C ons t ant i nop l e, " the moat important position in the wor ld, an d th e eto defend, makes the following remarks on THE PP' OF WAR The nib' T/%4513 ja nni > NABILITIIs o „nsc lN TURKEY. is and undecided attitude of Austria and it am—u. • Lae war on whose verge Europe appar. When Vienna conferences abruptly t z and W arsaw interviews began, and it is tow far th the Czar muds I tra* th what are their own interests and Ulu.- they reign over. Had they had a dont once have declared themselves for RusP' that common sense and sound per a strict union with the Wester are certainly not k, tion of the balance of from Russia's obtai ltusßip tly now ninated , posal of he cowl rs, than whom 6( ch must result What does h cant I aim, tl If she be allowed to stretc will, and if And she taken in it by Franc time. The Black S Austria as s .Frem Sea of Man uuviuutuy nrst T.% 'would be madness on the part of Russia t< qggle unless Austria and Prussia were indeed, the war would usury- Ld to th the Cat festly h shown 1 the soli rile part PI VT TVI,11110; _ rmv of prolongation of a state of .cts, and especially in a itussia now gives way, she would mani so four months ago, had England then • ' ' But Ives in ti e g itim at mess and incapacit nVP nrnlnnoed the raanceuvres of of the 4 and utterly Apv have ill. Egypt, Ethiopia, and the F Sinai. By Dr. Richard Lepsius Henry G. Bohi These IPif 'eninsula London : -ers form the chief literary results of a scientific expedition, despatched by the King of Prussia, in 1842, for the pnrposeof exploring the Nile valley, and investigating the architectural and other cents with which that valley is so copiously. iched ; and which, in their mysterious and sub 'agnitude and durability, convey to us the end almost the only historical data by enabled distinctly to trace the dawn ..:ss of human civilisation. The author of -.ters, Dr. 1- an the chief dire& %rlipQ+ Wh ich we aralld rir.,...,-. Dsiu,s, was the individual to ion of the Prussian expedition "48 entrusted, and the volume before us bears alnple t es ti mony to the judgment, intelligenc e, an d assiduity h e d evo t e d t o th e o bj ec t s o f hi s mission. -"ae letters are written in a familiar style, and are -I)ossessed of all the freshness and minuteness which araeterise sketches drawn on the spot, having 4 e , 4 despatched to Europe from time to time b e „',,g a period extending from September 1842 to 11 are 1845, and they ptive monu- 11;' s which, “-.lrding to the descri doctor, of indicate Quiptsgressive history or man, from a period t ,OO O years antecedent +be birth present 4 t , almost , it may said, to nu, inr llt ter esi . L .vbile, embracing, be ng, as they do, brief but eount ry 7,,eco unts of the present state of that •ti oli " its Works of recent institution. The among its waB all scts complete, including e °n l Po in nent m e m bers individuals learned in the sciences of architecture and archaeology, alb ar tists, and in th e l earne d d oc t or hi mse lf , a -of th gentleman Who added to th e me th o di ca l pat i ence e antiquary the profound erudition of the Itaehpa sive, in Import trary, his letters trace of ti ,ched ou ruined Necropolis, whose general position What a speetac rth ! When Ab] im came to Egypt for the first time, smids, which had been already built his coming. In the plain before I whos ancient Memphis, the residence of the kings on tombs we were then standing ; there dwelt Joseph, led the land under one of the most powerful and ie newly-restored monarchy. Further am hills, where the fruitful stern arm of the Nile. be- left of the Mc nind extends et from ou on of Goshen, 01 yrian desert. It would n ed by its obolisk, begins - the f which Moses led his people indeed, be difficult .nize that ancient fig road to Heliopolis, at 3htarieh, nn ler whoe shad anof the country, Mary rested N . rith [ow many thousand pilgrims of all sited these wonders of the world down to ourselves, who, the youngest in time, are yet but thousands who will suc ceed- us, ascend these Pyramids, and contemplate them with astonishment. I will not describe any further the thoughts and feelings which agitated me during these moments. There, at the goal of the wishes of many years, and at the same time at the commencement of our expedition ; there, at the summit of the Cheops Pyramid, to which the first link of our whole monumental historical redeces for the gyt, b re, ut for that of the world—is immoveably attilehed p ; the where I looked down upon the wonderful field of tombs, from which the Moses'-wand of science now calls forth the shadows of the ancient dead, and causes them to pass be fore the mirror of history, in the order of their time and rank, with their names and titles, and with all their pecu liarities, customs, and surrounding accompaniments. lections on its is adopted by Dr. Lepsius to convey an idea of the . present con dition of the Nile valley, he likewise gives spirited sketches of its natural history, and occasionally treats his readers with a clever portrait of some of its inhabitants. As an example, take the following CHARACTER OF THE ARABS. IThere is a curious mixture of noble pride and vulgar avarice to be found in the Arab, which is at first quite incomprehensible to the European. Their free, noble bearing and imperturbable repose appear to . express nothini but a proud sense of honour ' • balanced, however, against the smallest gain of money, it melts away like wax before the sun, and the most contemptuous treatment is not taken into consideration, but is borne with the most crouching servility where money is in question. We might, at first, imagine one of these two natures to be hypocrisy, or dissimulation ; but the contradiction returns too often in all forms, both great and small, not to lead to the conviction that it is characteristic of the Arab, if not of the entire East. Even as early as in the days of the Romans, the Egyptians had so far degenerated that Am mianus Marcellinus could say of them, "He among them blushes, who cannot show many strokes upon his body, for non-payment of tribute ;" and in the same manner the fellah to-day points, with a contented smile, to his ' scars as soon as the tax-gatherer has withdrawn, who, in spite of his instruments of torture, has been curtailed of a few piastres. This work, by the learned Prussian doctor, not only throws much light upon the antiquities of Egypt, but it likewise conveys important informa tion relative to the geographical position and peculiarities of the peninsula of Sinai, and contains reflections deduced from observation on several of the most interesting events of Jewish history, particularly those connected with the Exodus of that remarkable people. The volume, which has been skilfully and cleverly translated by two ladies, Leonora and Joanna B. Horner, daughters, we believe, of Mr. Leonard Horner, already referred to, is illustrated by several maps and pictorial illustrations, and is altogether a valuable accession to Mr. Bohn's Antiquarian Library, of which it The Public and Domestic Life of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke. By Peter Burke, Esq. Lon don : Ingram, Cooke and Co. intended to supply a deficiency in English - bio graphical literature, by furnishing a clear and continuous memoir of Edmund Burke, hitherto a desideratum so far as the general reader is con cerned. Memoirs of the great statesman and transcendant orator are no doubt numerous enough; but these are generally confined to his political movements and associations, conveying little know ledge of his private character, and almost no infor mation relative to his domestic life and history. In the present memoir these latter considerations form a prominent and interesting part, which is elaborated with skill as well as tact. As in the other biographies of Burke, a considerable portion of this one is also devoted to a consideration of the probable share, or entire claim he had in the author- ship of the mysterious " Letters of Junius," a politico-literary enigma which seems to have no great chance of a satisfactory solution. One re mark of the present biographer connected with the subject is worthy of notice, although brief; it is simply " curious enough, nearly every one charged with being Junius was really an intimate of Burke's," a circumstance in itself no doubt re markable, and one which, in this memoir, is made, to some extent, corroborative of the suspicion that Burke was in reality connected with the author ship of the letters. Among the valuable sayings of Bur - lie quoted in the v o l ume before us, is part of a speech delivered in the House of Commons, de- scriptive of the patch-work Cabinet of Lord Chatham. How applicable is it to the Mosaic ministerial array which now marshals under the banner of the Earl of Aberdeen ? The description by Burke is as follows, and may be entitled— A PRIME MINISTER AND HIS HETEROGENEOUS AIDS. I am afraid to flatter him ; I am sure I am not disposed to blame him. Let those who have betrayed him by their adulation, insult him by their malevolence. But what I do not presume to censure, I may have leave to lament. For a wise man, he seemed to me, at that time, to be governed too much by general maxims. I speak with the freedom of history, and I hope without offence. One or u maxims, flowing from an opinion not the most indulgent to v“. .....LopnV species, and surely a little too general, led him into measures that w b -ro.uv *nig chievous to himself, and for that reason, among others, perhaps fatal to his country—measures, the effects of which, lam afraid, are for ever incurable. He made an administration, so _chequered and speckled; he put tct gether a piece of joinery, so crossly indented anal whimsi cally dovetailed ; a cabinet so variously inlaid.; such a piece of diversified mosaic; such a tesselated pavement without cement, here a bit of black stone, and there a bit actix Ivor e Nile, iz Nile-bed, within the historic ng we may be to follow Ma n these his interesting speculations, w d that the more ostensible object we hay 1 note the dis an that .e to the exDedi- out at our ; the Nile le whol citadel of Cairo On th 4 boundless, colour. ;yen by tombs h fact pon the .terest cultivated s and ba str By Victor Hug and , hist( skill of s physical beauties and peculiari Victor Hi —The 1 Maga, of the] well-int Loned advc School E Christian Family by moonl is added London : nthusiasm and s traditions and its :ies. Added to M. Touris rt's Guide No. 1, a N. a keen and able expositor —The Ragged iseful collection egged schools. The !e, No. 17, a miscellany Vapazine, No, devoted to the combination of religious feeling with lar business and amusement.-The People's nd the Working Man's Friend. No. Vagazi L. Th( orlung man has now so many friends, that we suspect his capabilities of selection to be greatly overtaxed in determining his choice. This new friend professes to give counsel which shall theworkix a inhabit ant of this )f eternity VARIETIES. + I Ts lAN who v a link in ti overed. FIRST CLASS IS M chain of circumstances, and has id meet h KC stand up. Ho' " Three, sir ; lone _thing worth unless it has been earned: a man should be at once susceptible of passions, and able to subdue them. COME HERE, SONNY, and tell me what the four seasons are SERENITY OP MIND - iS gar—them's what put that boy to Pep mammy al% beA mustard, salt, and vin( s seasons with." " Mar 3 ie is so sharp he will cut somebody A Lovß SCEN ported by Frei In.—Overheard and phon derick Phinephun :—" the Inver_ "rwhftriey my nh zraphicall phoresee the phearful consequence; of our phleeing phrom your phather's phamily. Phew phellows could have phaced the music with as much fortitude as I have ; and, as phickle phortune phails to smile on our loves, I phind I must phorego the pleasure of becoming your husband. Phairest Phrances, pharewell phor ever." " Hold, Pprank lin, hold !" screamed Phrances, " I will phollow you for ever." But Phranklin had phled, and Phrances phainted. "THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD."—A letter, of which the following is a literal copy; was received at the Retford police-station a few days ago, from a tradesman at Wellow. We ought to say that the scribe himself is a baker, other wise our readers might, perchance, fail to ascertain its meaning :—Oct. 15-1853.—Sir hi sent to you the peck And Mechers And Beem to Bee Made Right Pies to due them to day Plees to send the 2 pees of Iced Bak Ass theay was not weeghts theay was put in for to Hay love for waste in Backin.—Polis Stasinon Retfor. 'him DEACON'S "down east" have a bad pructitm or snoring aloud whilst asleep in church, which appears to disturb some folks here. The Boston Bee has the follow ing polite notice for one of them :—" Deacon is re quested not to commence snoring to-morrow until the sermon is begun, as some persons in the neighbourhood of his pew would like to hear the text." A YOUNG LADY'S DILEMMA.—At a temperance meet ing in London, lately, an incident occurred which occa sioned some mirth. In consequence of the remarks made by Mr. Fry on the subject of Courtship, a note was handed up to him as follows :—" I have a lover who is a moderate drinker, If I discard him, will you warrant me a tee totaller in his stead ?" After the laughter occasioned by the reading of this had subsided, Mr. Fry advised the lady by no means to discard her lover, but to use all her in fluence to make him a teetotaller. He thought that if she used a little address, and exercised a little patience, she would win her lover before 1853 expired. _ _ _ ELOQUENCE OF A YANKEE THONDEREB.—One Paul Denton, a Methodist preacher in Texas, advertised a bar bacue, with better liquor than usually furnished. When the people were assembled, a desperado in the crowd cried out, Mr. Paul Denton, your reverence has lied. You promised us not only good barbacue, but better liquor. Where is the liquor ?" " There !" (answered the mis sionary in tones of thunder), and (says a Yankee contem porary) pointed his motionless finger at the matchless double spring, gushing up in two strong columns, with a sound like a shout of joy from the bosom of the earth. " There !" he repeated, with a look terrible as the light ning (while his enemy actually trembled on his feet), "there is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews for all His children ! Not in the simpering still, over smoky fires, choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with the stench of sickening odours and rank corruptions, doth your Father in heaven prepare the precious essence of life, the pure cold water ; but in the green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders, and the child loves to play—there God brews it ; and down, low down in the deep est valleys, where the fountain murmurs and the rills sing; and high upon the tall mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm cloud broods and the thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the wide, wild sea, where the hurricane howls music, and the big waves roar the chorus, sweeping the march of God—there He brews it, that beverage of life, health-giving water. And everywhere it is a thing of beauty ; gleaming in the dewdrop ; singing in the sum mer rain; shining in the ice gem, till the trees all seem turned to living jewels, spreading a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze around the midnight moon ; sporting in the cataract ; sleeping in the glacier; dancing in the hail showers ; gilding its bright snow curtains softly about the wintry wor ; weaving the many-coloured iris, that seraph's zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain-drop of earth, whose woof is the sun-beam of heaven, all checkered over with the celestial flowers, by the mystic hand of refraction. Still always it is beautiful—that blessed life-water ! No poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings no madness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass • pale widows and starving orphans weep no burning tea rs in its depths ;no drunkard's shrieking ghost from the grave curses it in words of eternal despair ! Speak out, my friends ; would you exchange it for demon's drink, alcohol F" A shout like the roar of a tempest answered, "No !" A PYRAMID IN CALIFORNIA.—The Placerville (Cali fornia) Herald gives the following account of the dis covery of a pyramid in California :—A party of men, five in number, had ascended the Colorado for nearly two hundred milesi above the mouth of the Gila, their object being to discover, if possible, some large tributary from the west, by which they might make the passage of the desert, and enter California by a new, more direct, and easier route, inasmuch as there are known to exist nume rous small streams upon the eastern slope of the moun tains, that are either lost in the sands of the desert or unite with the Colorado through tributaries heretofore unknown. They represent the country on either side of the Colorado as almost totally barren of every vegetable product, and so level and monotonous that any object suf ficient to arrest the attention possesses more or less of curiosity and interest, and it was this that led to the dis covery and examination of this hitherto unknown relic of a forgotten age. An object appeared upon the plain to the west, having so much the appearance of a work of art, from the regularity of its outline and its isolated position, that the party determined upon visiting it. Passing over an almost barren sand plain, a distance of nearly five miles, they reached the base of one of the most wonderful objects, considering its location, it being the very home of desola tion, that the mind can possibly conceive of, nothing less than an immense stone pyramid, composed of layers or courses of from eighteen inches to nearly three feet in thickness, and from five to eight feet in length. It has a level top of more than fifty feet square, though it is evi dent it vas once completed, but that some great convul- sion of nature has displaced its entire top, as it evidently now lies a huge and broken mass upon one of its sides, though nearly covered by the sands. This pyramid differs, in some respects, from the Egyptian pyramids. It is, or was, more slender and pointed ; and, while those of Egypt are composed of steps or layers, receding as they ri s e, the A m erican pyramid was, undoubtedly, a more finished structure. The outer surface of the blocks was evidently cut to an angle, that gave the structure, when complete, a smooth or regular surface from top to bottom. From the present level of the sands that surround it, there are fifty two distinct layers of stone, that will average at least two feet ; this gives its present height 104 feet, so that before the top was displaced it must have been, judging from an angle of its sides, at least twenty feet higher than at present. How far it extends beneath the surface of the sands it is impossible to determine without great labour. Such is the age of this immense structure, that the per pendicular joints between the blocks are worn away to the width or rrum fi ve tau inches at the bottom of each joint, and the entire of the pyramid so much worn by the stonnB, the vicissitudes and th to m a k e i t pm,, —e v1 . 7( . 1(111;1_ gs of centuries, as sides.iiiire'4l"in ascent, part i es arty upon one or rts sa d y o ne of its sides,.because a very singular fad con e pith with this -most remarkable structure is, that it in • ten degrees to ow side of :the vertical or OrPendiOdar. estic 1 h fill 1- e Rhiz 1 .411 1. 1 . J I AND jj g India in that case they t is. the On the aroant-courrier upon the young :rtakes a service or Lisearded, and ler he would Spaniards did their best to suppress thb xnint of _ the inconveniences it entailed, custom, on Very often man who costs him f servitude indefinitely, and sometimes dia l() has served him for two or three years, and under the same title of pretendant, or lover. But it also frequently happens that if the two lovers grow _ impatient for the celebration of the marriage ... some day or other the young girl takes the young man ti 3 the hair, and presenting him to the curate of the village tells him she has just run away with her lover, therefor, 3ut were the would be se- off the young Years in the Philippines Busu ROADS IN AUSTRALIA.—Let me first state what It may be aptly compared to a geometrical a straight line, for it is by ay bets A road is th( luriary deceptions. A will-o'-the wisp is something ; a ship's track through the waves has a transient existence ; but an Australian road is an abominable nonentity. When you are told you cannot possibly miss your road, be assured of the truth of it, for there will be no road to miss ; look forward confidently to an agreeable night " by moonlight alone," about which I could "tell you a tale," but that I don't like to be talking about myself. What do you think of the following for a direction ? Squatter, standing at his hut door, with one arm stretched out before him, loquitur : " Take that rise on the other side of the creek, and it will bring you on to an open plain ; go straight on for about a mile, and you'll see a belt of timber on your right; make a cut through it till you come the sun on yc ,f wild cattle on oeyona tnat tor three miles, 1 `right shoulder, and you'll see a lar lem on your left, and keep on, head- ing the gullies, till you come to a camping ground ; there will be a flock of sheep somewhere in the neighbourhood, and the shepherd will put you on the right track. You a creek is different ; not but that some creeks are roads, and some roads are creeks—nay, I have ridden along a plain level road that was a river. But, generally speaking, a creek is different from a road. A creek is an indenta tion in the ground, into which, if it should happen to rain heavily, water would probably run and remain there till it is dried up. And in this consists the difference between a creek and a gully ; the gully being more or less on a slope, the water would not remain in it, but flow down somewhere else. It is easy to understand, then, what a creek or gully is (and a river is just the same, except that you will seldom follow the course of a river for a mile or so without meeting with a water hole) ; but the difficulty is to know what is is liot a creek, or gully, or a river. You may oc tom wa., oauvr p.s.sing two creeks, you win come to a certain but ; and yet, in your humble and innocent opinion, you may have crossed a dozen creeks, and not have reached it. I am not yet deep enough in the mys teries to say when a creek (crick or crink; I think, must be the correct orthography) is not a creek, and a gully (or gull-ye) is not a gully.—Australian and New Zealand Gazette. JENNY LIND'S FAILURE AND TRIUMPII. — The circum stances, too, of the failure were singularly trying. She was announced to appear as Agatha, in Weber's Fries chutz, a character she had long regarded as that in which her ability would be . genially tested. To it her young ambition had long pointed, and with it her artistic sympa thies were familiarly identified. The hour came, and that wonderful and delicate instrument, that as a child she had governed so adroitly, that it seemed the echo of her mind, that subtle medium through which her feelings had been wont to %up such ready and full vent, refused to ooey her will, yielded not to the pieaum . gs ur h,.-e ambition, was hushed as by some cruel magic, and Jenny Lind was mute, with anguish in her bosom, her friends looking on in tearful regret, and her maestro chagrined beyond description ! Where had those silvery tones fled ? What catastrophe had all at once loosened those invisible harp strings ? The splendid vision of fame, of bounteous pleasure, of world-excited sympathy, and of triumphant art, disappeared like the gorgeous cities seen by the tra veller, from the Straits of Messina, painted in tinted vapour on the horizon. Jenny Lind ceased to sing, but her love of art was deepened, her trust in nature un shaken, her simplicity and kindliness as real as before. Four long years she lived without the rich promise that had invested her childhood, but, with undiminished force of purpose, she studied the art for which she felt herself born with patient, acute, earnest assiduity, and then another and blissful episode rewarded her quiet heroism. The fourth act of Robert le Diable had been announced for a special occasion, and it so happened that, in conse quence of the insignificant role of Alice, consisting of a single solo, no one of the regular singers was disposed to adopt the character. In this emergency Berg was re minded of his unfortunate pupil. She meekly consented to appear, pleased with an opportunity to be useful and oblige her kind maestro. While practising this solo, to the delight and astonishment of both teacher and pupil, the long-lost voice suddenly re-appeared. It seemed as if nature had only withdrawn the gift for a season, that her child might gather strength and wisdom to use it effi ciently, and in an unselfish spirit, and then restored it as a deserved recompense for the resignation and truth with which the deprivation had been borne. We can fancy the rapCurous emotions of the gentle votary that night when she retired from the scene of her new and unanticipated triumph.—Tteckerman's Mental Portraits. THE MOTIVES OF MARY QUEEN OP SCOT'S MISCON STRUED FESTIVITIES. — The festivities which moved the ire of Master John Knox took place just before Lent, always the close of the court season in Edinburgh during , the briefgrig — h - t - d - a - y - a - of Mary St - ua - a - 's - w - lci — owi:e - i - gri. - frer - enter tainments in the February of 1564 were more than usually brilliant. "So soon as her Grace had recovered health," writes Randolph, she determined with herself to pass her time in mirth, and such pastimes as were most agree able for that time approaching Shrovetide Her Grace sent for the most part of her nobility to be here against Sunday last. She made them so solemn a banquet that day as in Scotland, in the remembrance of man, except at the marriage of a prince, or the like, was not seen. Both the days following were little inferior to the first." The object of these banquets was neither revelling nor idle dissipation, but the re-establishment of peace and good will between lately discordant powers, on whose union the tranquillity of the realm depended. A political crisis of no ordinary interest had occurred. The deep-seeing Earl of Moray, having formed an accurate estimate of the popular influence of John Knox and the strength of his faction, had effected a reconciliation with him during the long and dangerous illness of the Queen. Moray had united with Lethington and Mary's other ministers in the judicious measure of taking her out of a bed of sickness to expose her to the agitation of a personal discussion with the most ill-mannered person in her dominions, and then, instead of supporting her, had championised her adversary. The affront Mary had received from her Privy Council on that occasion was followed up by a formal requisition for her to abstain from practising the rites enjoined by the religion in which she had been nurtured. Mary, not con sidering the thorny, diadem she wore worth the sacrifice of a compromise of conscience, offered to resign her office to Moray, and in the bitterness of her heart " commanded him to take the thankless burden on his own shoulders." Such was, indeed, the desire of his soul, but the hour. was not yet come for its accomplishment ; the necessary arrangements had not yet been made. Queen Mary was the idol of her people ; affection for her person and vene ration for her office were united with respect for her virtues ; she must be deprived of their love, and painted blacker than Messalina, ere another would be tolerated in her place. Moray rejected her offer of resigning it to him, and craved Permison to retire to his estates in Fifeshire. Mary granted him leave of absence for eight days ; he tarried twenty-one, during which he incurred suspicion by a meeting with his brother-in-law, the Earl of Argyll, at Castle Campbell. A report was next brought to the Queen that he had pr iv il y embarked from his own monastic post of Pitten ween for England, and th i s was at her first believed both by and others, the conduct of Moray, previous to her return to Scotland, having been s uspicions of treasonable correspon dencesuch however,aas betweent(lwasjustify u stfhim any suspicions convinced rtre a e e nM t te ary, England was unfounded, a revulsion of feeling in h i s favour succeeded her late an ger and m i strust. H ow could she doubt his loyalty and love to her, when he had refused to receive her demission of the crown of Scotland ? IVArnstniilrP_ she nausea " u- ---, ---- '---- wit to examine too closely into the motives of a negation which appeared so convincing a test of his honesty. But Moray knew full well his own position, and that if he would Sovereign'sgovern Scotland, ; for how it must be would the jealous peers of p arl i ament, whom Mary called h u e n r de c r ous t in he shadow e s,bingallofinhis Sovore -. or less akin to the royal line, be persuaded to perform lieg e h omage t o h er b ase -b orn brother ? and Moray had, as no infant puppet to call et their monarch,. as a his y cloak fo r own usurpation of the cre d ntt ::: ..3 w iery h when regal office under the name of Regent. How often must the poor deluded Queen have marvelled at her own blind of her fraternal rival's finely -played game ! True to her the progressive moves Nyrasetratel:figrst to seek a reconeilia __ generous e e n s s e r o a and credulity nTa and her brother in the co oetween herself mmencement of the year 1564. Without waiting for him to make submissions and sue for pardon' s he graciously ext en d ed the olive branch, and in her affecti ons and her councils. As wooed him to leave his sull en retreat and resume his n aggrandisement could then be effected, Moray accepted her invitation, and she honoured his return to her cou r t w ith fat es an d merry makings, to which all her nobl es were frankly bidden, nothing wonthd more place conducive to hi s ow whether they had aided with her party or his faction during the late est ran gemen t . — Ming B.trickland's Life of Mary Queen of Scott. rstandinv Tain During when I sserted, a of I 'ovate of I ler of that party to which the t the val tible difference vigour. a Standard a mo: it has received aconsiderable inc Of what little value, comparatively speaking, would 1 the eloquent appeals of our leading ministers in behalf the various societies by whic truths of the Gospel is so w( the reports which: appear in your column 4, are brought before thousands of readers who could nev( have been hearers. I mention these but as ( the good service which has been rendered b to the cause which I have so much at e Standard tion to which, it appears, you have been subiected would seem, indeed, as though som( intellect, or so wilfully pery breath boast a Free Press liberty, and in the next s the palladium of Britis llify their ablest champion be muse he does not prove the abject slave to laud every petty crotchet of his imperious task-masters. For my own part, I applaud your spirit of independence in daring to offer rebuke where rebuke was more deserved than praise, because I view it_ as an earnest of the right being uppoited for the sake of the right, and not for the sali7 f pandering to the nreiudices of this or that individual wears t are but two newspapers in Liverpool conducted by ME hers of the Church. An attempt is now made to mis present the views which you have so ably and temperat Put forward, by the very men who have just di; that your Satirday contemporary has a leaning towards Tractarianism. So the result appears inevitable, that these few individuals, having rejected their best friend, and deprived themselves of any claim to further support, must resort to those dissenting prints which have ever been the bitterest enemies of the Church, and which have never joined with us but to serve their own ends : for it may safely be affirmed that, with the single exception of a portion of the Wesleyans, the Dissenters have almost to a man supported Radicals and Romanists. If this is to be the upshot of all that the Standard has done in defence of the pure principles of Protestantism, I tremble for the pecuniary support which will in future be given to the various societies to which I, in common with many of my friends, have hitherto contributed. I allude to the Scripture readers' Fund, the Pastoral Aid Society, the Church Mis- I for my own part shall continue my subscriptions from conscientious conviction that it is my duty to lend my aR as far as I have it in my power ; but there are many 01 my friends, and I have no doubt others, who will pause before the tenance the 4 ' - te men whc 2e Ley count, Jew intempera have joined in this movement, and who, with many pro. fessions of peace, seem only too anxious to be throwing the apple of discord where all should be unity. Christian liberty is one of the proud boasts of the true Protestant; but it is making the chains of slavery more galling than the fetters of Rome, if an old and tried friend cannot express an honest opinion, in sober sincerity and temperate language, without being subject to such an absurd accusation as that of leaning towards Tractarianism. It perhaps ought hardly to excite surprise, since our blessed Saviour was subject to much worse treat ment of a similar character by the self-righteous Pharisees, who took counsel together how they might entangle him in His talk. We read of the lawyers asking Him a question, tempting him ;of His rebuke, Why tempt ye me ?" and the result, that from that day forth no man durst ask Him any more questions. These men of extreme opinions and no moderation are not confined to this town, as I observe, by a report of a public meeting of the Jews' Society at Salisbury, that one of them was not only publicly rebuked by the chairman for his intemperate language and offensive epithets, but the latter threatened to leave the meeting. Blindly wedded to their own narrow views and selfish prejudices, they cannot brook contradic tion, and take offence at a manly expression of honest independence for which I give you credit, though I may not agree with all your views. If this, however, is to be the end. of long and faithful service, then farewell to our boasted British freedom ; but I am rather inclined to think that such wilful misrepresentations can only come from a few whose intellects are too confined for reason to have the slightest influence upon them.—l am, Sir, &c., pi4v3c: r.rs.—l enclose you my card, and you have full liberty to make what use you please of this letter. ____•._____ PRIEST CAHILL AND THE CHURCH OF ROME THE EDITOR OP THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD, SIR,—On hastily glancing over the letter of the Romish Priest Cahill, written the week before last, in answer to the challenge of the Protestant Clergymen of Birkenhead, I was forcibly struck with one passage in it. He says,— " We believe no one can infallibly learn Christ's law with out our teaching !" I think I noticed in some other part of the letter, something to the effect that Protestants could not teach truth, nor Roman Catholics priests error : but the whole letter strongly illustrates tiirarroganieof the man, and the unwarrantable assumptions of the Romish clergy. Nothing will satisfy them, it would appear, until they have reduced the human intellect and the entire population, from the highest to the lowest, to subjection to them, and their teaching ; but surely they can never succeed in this. The lamentable apathy and indifference of Protestants, and the open encourairement of some in fluential parties, from whom an opposite line of conduct might be naturally expected, would seem to spur them on in their nefarious career. But I must again refer to the extract above quoted. "We believe no one can irtfallibly learn Christ's law without our teaching!" This is monstrous. Can any educated Roman Catholic believe this ? Can he so prostrate his intellect as not to use his mental faculties in judging for himself upon matters that concern his eternal welfare, but blindly submit to the dictum of his fellow mortals ? Has the Al m i g hty re- linquished His prerogative of ruling and reigning in the hearts of His obedient children, and showing them Him self, by His Holy Spirit, what He requires them to do, and what He requires them to refrain from doing ? There are many, very many, I rejoice to say, who can say, from heartfelt experience, that their Creator has not so re linquished His undoubted prerogative, and given over His beings like themselves. I think Priest Cahill asserts that the Scriptures are not forbidden to the members of the Romish Church ; but they must receive them, it is well known, subject to the interpretation of the priests, and along with the traditions of their Church, which are held as of equal efficacy and force with the sacred Scriptures themselves. Infatuated and debased indeed must be the intellect of those who will thus prostrate themselves to their frail fellow-creatures. I think, if any properly qualified person would keep a watchful eye on the sayings and doings of Priest Cahill, and expose his gross errors in the public papers, he would be doing good service to his country and the cause of true religion. The priest, feeling, as I hope he does, the weak ness of his cause, dare not meet an open discussion with the Birkenhead clergymen, but writes a long rigmarole letter to cover his retreat, and this letter is, forsooth, printed in a cheap form and extensively circulated among his ignorant dupes, with a view of giving him the appear ance of coming off in a triumphant manner, and having the last word there, I suppose Nov. 4, 1853. A PROTESTANT DISSENTER. THE MONSTER VICE OF LIVERPOOL, AS DE- PICTED BY A CLERGYMAN TO THE EDITOR OF THE LIVERPOOL STA./MAUD. SIR,—I have just returned, with sickened heart and de pressed spirit, from the densely populated district in which I labour, grieved and shocked by those fearful exhibitions of beastly - intoxication so co; in the town at large. I, therefore, sit down to . ' fulfil the resolve long made of addressing you on this alarming, dis graceful, and growing evil. The appalling and frightful extent to which this most degrading vice is carried has, for the last twelve months, weighed most heavily and sorely on my mind, and often have I thought, when my hurried gaze has been arrested by the large and glaring Placard proclaiming war to Romish superstitions—that while the leading champions of Protestantism are arousing the attention of their fellow-townsmen to the daring ag gressions and blighting progress of Papal error,—while from the hoary battlements and massive turrets of our beloved Sion they sound the trumpet's shrill alarm and ring the bugle call for marshalling their troops in bold defence of sacred truth, and the preservation of a pure and holy faith—that while within the precincts of the hal lowed temple, and without its walls, they exhort with burning eloquence their fellows to a martyrs courage and to a martyr's bravery in the cause of Christian truth and Christian liberty, the sensual and bloated Bacchus is suffered, unimpeded, unobstructed, and unchecked, to drive his desolating car, and to scatter unresisted his demon, yet seducing charms, over the homes and dwellings of now happy, prosperous, and virtuous--but, ala s , ere long, wretched, forlorn, and vice-ridden families. It is high time to awake—high time for the preachers and lovers of domestic and social virtue to arise and arm for a determined struggle with the foe ; high time to unite and oppose the devastating onslaught of a foe who threatens to hold in brutal bondage millions of our countrymen, to defend the citadel of English. sobriety, test I mayl;esaluteil by some of your readers with the salutation once given to St. Paul, " Thou art beside thy self," or lest I may be looked upon as one of those who delight to make the dark . more dark, and give a gloomier tinge to the picture than reality would warrant, suffer me - to present, through the medium of your journal, to the authorities and influential men of this great town a few scenes which I sketched in my ministerial diary. I shall first refer you to the hospital which, as a clergyman of the district, it is my duty to attend. • CisE I.—A few months ago I made my usual visit to the institution, when, upon entering one of the wards, to my perfect dismay and horror, I found a man who, although bleeding profusely from frightful wounds in the head, received while fighting, was raving and frantie f rom the effects of excessive drinking—he was as furious as a chafed lion—he used the most foul and obseme langu age and uttered the moat fearful blasphemies — Lis eyes darted countenance But he has for once acted wisely for his I 'alone— history of th ectable circut member of a religious body, a kind fathe husband, a quiet neighbour, and a steady workman. But in a fatal hour the wi syren-call of Bacchus caught his ear. an, 3.7 Last week, passing saw, at mid-day, two men, intoxicated, strippa waists, fighting, set on and encouraged by a thi the infatuated and senseless victims of strong d CASE 4.—A Monday or two ago, in pas.: - street onl-• " ,cy, before eleven o'clock in the morning, I met ...6TY drunken women, all tumbling and reeling home to their miserable and affrighted children. —Last Sunday I visited a house where I found swollen. 1 inquiry I found the husband a man given to excessive intemperance. It appears he is often drunk twice or thrice in a-day ;he spends every penny of the money he earns in the ale-house, the wife keeping a large family by her own exertions. Last Saturday he came home in a state of wild and unmanageable drunkenness; kicked his wife unmerci fully with his thick-nailed boots, struck her on the face, broke three of her teeth, and then, like a brute, went to bed. Numerous are the families I visit in their chairless and bedless hovels, surrounded by snualid and filthy poverty,—a patch of dirty straw coat into the far corner; a poor, haggard-looking wife and mother, in the midst of starving and ill-clad children ; and when I ask the cause, my suspicions are confirmed. The father—the husband—with his pound, thirty shillings, or two pounds weekly, is allured, is seduced, is beguiled to the drinking booth, or the more luxurious and princely "gin-palace," and there, amid jovial riot and Bacchanalian song, amid wanton dance, and the sparkling wine -bowl, or the less costly ale-cup, he drowns the thought of crying children asking for bread—of broken-hearted wife, wild and mad with sor row, as she sees in fancy's eye the cruel monster, who swore in sight of heaven to love and cherish her, squandering with prodigal and thoughtless hand the hard, hard earn ings of the six-days' toil. My present task is made more painful when I am forced to say that such cases, so revolting, are daily brought before my eyes, that they are multiplying fast, are on a rapid increase, and that woman, tender-loving woman too, often acts the tragic part of murderess and destroyer of her children's, her husband's home and comforts—that woman, winning wnman Coo, forgetting her pure and lovely nature, and sinking into the abhorred hag of Bacchus' train, offers her gentle offspring as worshippers and victims for his bloody altar. These are facts—facts undeniable—not the dreams or pencillings of poetic minds—but glaring and appalling facts. Shall these continue ? Can they ? indeed they must not—they cannot so continue with im punity ; retribution, dire retribution on such as thes retri ration in the dreadful form of plague and pestilence ; country cannot thrive and prosper while a vice, like some ferocious vulture, feeds upon its vitals. What can a kingdom be—what will she be—whose vast and multi plying masses— whose fast-increasing children of the workshop, wharf, anvil, and the plough (the strength and sinew of a people) become the sottish and idle votaries of intoxicating Bacchus—who steep their senses and benumb their fine feelings, and destroy their strength of arm and limb in the maddening and enfeebling vat of horrid drunkenness ? What can a kingdom be—what can a nation be—whose rising generation—whose future men and women--whose children, male and female, are nou rished in the midst of vice—who live and move amid the scenes of vilest sensuality—children listening to the ob scene and filthy jest of a besotted father—listening to the dreadful oath and wanton speeches of a drunken mother just returned from the neighbouring ale-house? What can a country be—what will she be with an increasing multitude of such as these—what—what ? Public authorities, and men of influence in the town, lend me your ear, while I entreat you with all earnestness to lelp in stemming the torrent of drunkenness that threatens todemoralise and wasteyour country's people—entreat your energy and zeal in checking and onnosing the bold and dauntless march of desolating intemperance. I suppli cate your co-operation with the clergy of the town in endeavouring to devise some plan whereby the lower classes may be sheltered, may be screened from the fas cinating temptations that beset them. I entreat you, if it be possible, to cease adding to the frightful number of licensed " spirit-houses ;" cease from sanctioning at every corner, and at every turn of our over-crowded districts, buildings, which, by their extent and external decoration and grandeur, and by their internal adornment of sculp ture, painting and the charms of mirth, music, and in toxicating drinks, shall entice the unwary passer-by to enter those doors which too often prove to be the gate "that inclineth to death." I entreat you to exert your authority and influence in closing entirely all public houses on the Lord's day. 0, ye see not, and ye know not, as I do, of scenes of sensual riot that pollute the evening of that holy day. Deliver us from the withering curse of open "drinking palaces" on the Sabbath evening. We ministers of the Church may wear ourselves away; we may visit the chamber of poverty and vice from morn to eve ; we may point the outcast and the vile to the " fountain open for sill and uncleanness ;" we may plead, reason, and exhort the drunkard to forsake the path of premature death, and the horrors of eternal despair; we may spend our strength ; we may sacrifice our days t o works of ministerial love and charity ; and our hearts may throb, and our pulse beat high, and our bowels yearn to -t aria the vile, buL -alone as we are— single-handed in the conflict, and ,rse than alone, while those professing the Gospel of purity and sobriety, and virtue, are getting gain, are extending their domain, and accumulating fortunes by the multiplying of those haunts of drunkenness —alone in a densely populated district, what are we— what can we do P We exert ourselves beyond our strength —we feel already sinking in the fight. As lovers of your country—as Britons proud of her unsullied flag—proud of British valour, and British virtue, and British blessings— as Christians—as Churchmen who venerate and love the holy temple of your fathers, and who desire to preserve loving and obedient children, help—aid to banish the curse—to eradicate the disease that, like a plague-spot, widens, enlarges, and mars the otherwise glorious beauty of your fatherland ; help to drive the pestilential evil from your town—a sin that fills your jails, crowds your work- Jiouses, throngs your hospitals, depopulates your country, carries to an untimely grave the healthy and robust among the labouring classes—a sin that multiplies your destitute widows and famishing orphans —a sin that profanes and desecrates God's holy day. Abstain from such rapid licensing as heretofore, and close these houses on the Lord's-day. I am, Sir Liverpool, Nov. 3, 1853. CLERICUS THE POSITION AND PROSPECTS OF POLITICAL PARTIES IN LIVERPOOL TO Trim EDITOR OP VIE LIVERPOOL STANDARD Sin,—lt is a most extraordinary fact, that although the Liverpool Liberals have almost unvarying success in the Revision Courts, still they are as invariably defeated at the hustings. It is worth the time of these Liberals to find out how such results ensue, and for the Tories to consider what is the cause of their constant failure in registration business. At the parliamentary revision which was held between Mackenzie and Turner's, and Liddell and Hors fall's election, the Reformers had a gain of some 300 or 400 votes ; still, at the election which took place on the register so revised, Mr. Horsfall's majority was, as near as possible, the same as Mr. Turner's ! Again, at the municipal re vision, which was held a few weeks since, the Radicals knocked off 86 voters in West Derby Ward; yet, Mr. Wm. Earle,—who last year polled only 156 votes, and was beaten by 48,—after having this year polled 241 votes (nearly 100 more than last year), was again beaten, though only by a small majority. No one would—or could—say, that Mr. Horsfall used any influences different to Mr. Turner, or Mr. Clint to Mr. Henderson. This, I say, is worth the atte n ti on o f a ll Reformers, for no one can brook defeat worse than your modern Radical. I never knew a Radical to be defeated, who did not console himself by at tributing his opponent's success to improper or illegal agencies. But how is it that the Tories are so unsuccessful in re gistration? Because they don't go to the expense which is indispensable for su cce s s. There i s plenty of material to reverse the result , : there are in Liverpool now, at least 500 men who are qualified to be on the Don n:lee re- 2VDARL down s CASE 1.-A ponee-otne counter ti Is bleed lent dat 'rank to ex 'thin 'a th anotl amber of nlv_ and In claret, arm—the fract trunk. I found, sad to ,reet in s man of r I tell of Aliof them driiiato intoxicated savW !(1 to se both the result ipectabl a—onc n horn Tories of Liverpool give ational Ai. atiort. The ;e d. to Mr . al Associat disP la i s mtiring w e who I?°' neu save the 1 " e ven nd convit xhich we c a expensive contests contests 3 : ja tiotti :tition of frivolous a11,t 1 . 1 Du even such despotic that Radicalism in Well"' I am, Sir, Yogi R Se , y kll9 INST WA iND CIWI°' LIVERPOOL STAN e A ral' Time 01 " A ituatiort ; rat; iot been a Sunday (not to saY a tictils 'hick prayer might be more 1 33 .7 1 ; wt deliverance from the cholera- scl NOTES, NOTICES, AND OPIN-05 Y JOHANN Cf3' HOME.- XIV. S ,nd extensively f 141116 9 • ' , s fip, would, Per na tio th a n aq.-_---,06,01 an institution where domestii, coming from the country to see' n ; .oard and lodging on the cheapest ten - 0 altered from the contamination, and rnisel,;(o and vice of the miserable courts and hostel i v erS r. It has become an almost onfousi ~,re are few good servants to t e m as I lying, and dishonesty are so cool's' Ai l .ule of conduct, rather than the except iml : , , can it be otherwise when servants, out of 1 ,1 75c0 driven to the courts and purlieus of Marybone an beca t 'and-road to find a lodgin g , w h ere , o f cou rse, theY to ery species of vice, and are expose u to o,% )f the very worst characters—oft° fate debts to be repaid tenfold,. at t, ry-A „Ae t amiliar with eve Now, all ti may, and ought to be remedied, an f o ot no very large amount of mone y to set ( o _ l ,W' stitution which would, in a grea t measu re, renritio tt Let us suppose that there are in LiverP°,°L,i(is,,l require immediate neighbourhood about 10,000 servant " . ,;0 14 , whom we may calculate not less than 500 are e° 4 . l „ - ot out of place Of these 500 we may assume that than one-half may be induced to enter a Servants provided they could be boarded and lodged 36 4 ., - eie d . there as elsewhere—a number sufficiently large. —that arrangements to be made for carrying on the Ill s ,' gosi", in a highly satisfactory manne r . B u t the Serval"' 1 0 9 " should be no private or individual speculation, but:a sit; • `" tion as the Sailors' Home, and sh° its inmates out of harm's alikoir .311;41' to estimate the amount of good which such an eP e 7 1 1 ," ment, if well conducted, would be sure to Pr° u _ 4 . ll eigu; how many hundreds of families would, in a sh°i" esv" f cla / of time, be indebted to it for a large increase ° 4 . the C comfort. Let me hope these remarks will in be e e ; e vo_l o ec t of some philanthropic clergyman, or some lady, who will take the trouble to talk over the 010 r with their friends, and propose some public mov eeie the accomplishment of so desirable an object. -re THE REV. Dl?. .71PNEILE AN: EDINBURGH REVIEW: THE folio' letter has been addressed by th e Ea' M`Neile to the Rev. W. J. Coneybeare ov. * Albury-house, Liverpool , bere DEAR SlR,—Since the appearance of the last n u „ r the Edinburgh Review rumour has ascribed to 5. " the article on " Church Parties" which it Co unwilling to believe it possible that you could ha ve for e Y °4 parts of it ; and I now charitably hope that, bettee wrote pp. 292-293, with their foot note, you had forge what is written at p. 284. „ we d me, Our mutual friend Mr. Howson has I.' ° . ha t you without, as he says, any breach of conA dence " the author of the article. to let , .6 May I, then, re ques t Y ou to have the ki n dness „ ol ds , know on what evidence you charge re for, In y° fi be r, it is a charge, and a grave one— w ith b e ing nle— toes . " leader—the ablest leader, of what you are pleased the Recordite par 0 - - in the Church ? thren , 116 the good taste of designating your. rea l or '" .1 1 my theological or ecclesiastical peculiarities, av er t posed, but by a nickname derived from a newer ) w ore make no comment ;De gustibus, &c. With the or! rive of the p:.qrsooll tion yot no personal concern—that is your affair ; but '" a rVi have introduced me, by name, as the leader of a i r I 01 which you have given such a description, I the ,i ,iii iii 7 most reasonably expect that, as a gentleman, yo u , refuse to give your proofs. ,i, s . Ol t ) ~ it s Lie Of the party in question you say ( p. 20; , „ n ge d tive doctrines are derived from those of the D l / 4 '1 0 9117,.; school, by pushing each of these to extravegaLora l. quences. Thus, from justification by faith, the , 1 01 " infers the worthlessness of morality." f tPf i ffice' Here I pause. I might, indeed, select any ° I , $ $ lowing clauses for comment, but this one shn inl e f. ° oo When you say, " the Recordite infers," I Pr es 4ber°o, mean that he gives expression to his inferenle: v or grjoito, you could not become cognizant of it; he Pea lr ' 9 ' or both, i. e., he teaches, as an inference, the , s n r ess of morality. It is not that his accuser c1,r1001.35) an mterence from some of his statements. • 110. Thor t y intelligible. The great Apostle felt this (see rd t a ol ,o 4 But your charge is that the Recordite himself, „„d yb inference. You say, " the Recordite infers, ..,b,_ you open your description of a party in the Chw' vo rtlaLio the deliberate statement that they teach the lt: ness of morality. An attempt to screen youror this, by pleading that to infer does not metal n o would be too obviously a special pleading. If y" do not mean this they mean nothing. There 1 ,0 0 There may be some persons who so teach., e unhappily been Antinomians in all ages. (1 1. n tiii whom you call Recordites may be guilty 43 ,... 0 Ji though I imagine you could find nothing of t"` o. the Record itself. Indeed, it seems pretty Plt ge i 0 1;0 °. (1/ you could have cited evidence t o sus t a i n this cor ba ce indictment, you would have done so. But, 98 t 4. 0 1 ‘ this is not my conce rn . C - .et f 0," s_..l some very lull-- I entirely differ from the Reco r d, while, on others'9 be r it has done goo d an d f a ithf u l se rv ice. But nil_f;lo 00, on what evidence y ou h ave f e lt yourse lf at liy," o , P me before the p u bli c as th e l ea d er o f a p a rtY, allege, teach, or infer, the worthlessness of 1 11 °,,,7 you can cite any passage from any of my h° ° ;' j i IrtoV mons, or speeches, justly exposing me to such, is jlsl i ; t iofi' tion, I shall feel obliged by your doing so, a ll" •st care to have the mischief expunged from the It, o ge,l with a penitent acknowledgment of the Patch c—A Su: rliv d. 11 j U. 611 V e > and if m y ~ f publications abound . as the y y do, ht ritp 0 directly the reverse, then, I think, I have a rig' that you will acknowledge your fault in brill; j3 y a brother clergyman—an acquaintance ( ) f ed. t0e1 3 05 standing, for whom you have always profess ho s 00_,, sentiments of Christian kindness, and tiol: to entertained the same towards you—an accw — igb.,' •pi you are utterly unable to sustain. I have 0 .,0 1 7 0 9 o f pect, further, that, in all fairness, and uPrllic, equity, you will make your confession as g u ttse fault ; i. e., that you will have it inserted the Edinb - urgh I cannot doubt your willingness t o d o t101y0 0143 tice, because I cannot as yet hold you guil o ",,.ater; an inadvertence, though of a ve r y gra ve cu" — ;iste'' The temptation was too gr ea t to be I'd til e actjoy associations lingered around Liverpool, lioce i *4ll_o influence which you say (p age 293, no te) t he madeluence over the second town ,e , v ibe?, 0 0, mean object too prominent to eee3i plica ls. all I" were hurled at random againstEvang",„ ou t bell' But when, by way of compensation for tii o a A d :d made upon me, you acknowledge (ibid) thal . 1 op ' ll e r ji t 1,01 f me to be a thoroughly sincere and bou i e s h a ve ,„ t o 0 0e have done much good," you should surelY o pionp t oe mind, that as lam an able leader (in your 01 1 04 , party who teach or infer the worthlessnesstol;33, f : 1 4 more sinceie I am, and the more elor i el l ins teoci f 110, 0 . 40 more influence I have thereby acqu ire '''. much good, the more intolerably miscbleg p Inconsistency with himself is the proverl;_otbio...„oo of a witness from whom the accused hee l u ro tp and of whom an intelligent jot", se en ' et' 1 ,10 0 suitable estimate.---I am yours, faithfullft, 1 - 11 701 a cnl THE SULTAN OF TURKEY'S NEW PALAC)I.VicII6 is now building a new palace at Dolma -D 3 Arol e e P . , front to the Bosphorus. The architect is ,a ti fro"' OP' the son of the Sultan's builder ; he studieuili;orbliliel a short time. The palace is of stone saues.,tßoclsii, workmanship is very common ; the frootag e h ik the Bosphorus from Dolma BaktchO to p c i , B . theses'''—to,7 must have a facade of upwards of I,ooe let w o io i ve d is exquisite. The palace is more Nice a tu, d rea covering in the rear something exorbitanti):,if was here that Mr. W. J. South erected for. hie it Wod, majesty a winter garden and koisk, and fu European style, with crystal f oun tain, - chandeliers lighted with gas. The chitnocYfile tloor i s trt crimson-coloured crystal and painted chi na ' t c oed ° m ai' china; , and the basin of the founta in ensual goor:0-011 exquisitely painted with flowers. The priu ci P most prises vast halls and apartments fitted ul) manner in gilding and painting, executed bY natives. The taste of some of the irate is ejtaO! questionable. The baths are fitted up n the 51 * - alabaster. The roof is covered with lead ;„_' .- t r aetriel P A / are generally Palaces, and only these, are covered with the i s Palace is built on piles. The great stairca se Tile c e d e a large skylight of crimson-coloured glass. 0 ,0 • • D el con ments for 300 or 400 women. The pand e r low. The harem of the palace sppv through a costly tranvia' gateivar.-13141 the Sec RITSTICITS Liverpool is .Black