The Express.
London, England, 1864-12-01 00:00:00

The Oat-Deutsch Zeitung publishes the following
letter from Kowno, dated 17th November :
The hopes of an amnesty for the Polish insurgents seem
to be in Do way likely to be fulfilled. Only within the
last few days an execution took place here ; the military
commission had sentenced the culprit to be shot, but Mou-
ravied ordered him to be hanged. The unfortunate Pole
was Dr. Micewicz, a man of about 20, who had just pared
his examination at St. Petersburg when the insurrection
broke out. lie is said to have been one of the chief organ-
ism of the revolution in the government of Kowa° ; it is
certain that he shed no bloats and was not an insurgent
leader. He denied the charge against him to the last. It
may not be without interest to make public some of the
details of his execution. Early in the morning it was
proclaimed by beat of drum that at 9 o'clock one of the
insurgents would be hanged. it was • dark, cold, cloudy
day, and the melancholy procession slowly made its way
through the narrow and muddy streets to the scaffold. In
the midst was the young Pols, dressed in black, and wan.
panied by • Romeo catholic priest is full canonicals. Close
behind were some 20 foot soldiers with their bayonets turned
towards hint ; io front was a detachnuat of infantry, and •
body of mounted Cossacks, with their long lances, sur-
rounded the whole procession, their tanned and bearded
faces and long brown cloaks giving an Asiatic appearance to
the scene. The scaffold, 15 feet high, was guarded by a
body of infantry and Uhler's. Below it were the executioner
(who in Russia is usually • convicted murderer) and six
soldiers to assist him. Whoa the prisoner approached the
scaffold be knelt down sod received extreme unction from
the priest, after which he looked round as if he were seek-
ins some one. It was thought that he was looking for his
sister, who however was lying ill. The sentence was then
read. and the prisoner advanced with quick decided steps to
the gallows, threw off his out, and put on a long white
shirt, while the executioner drew over his heed and face •
whit* cap, which he tied tightly over his eyes, ad tied his
hands behind him. In another second the halter was round
his throat and his body swung in the air. Death came slowly,
end appeared to cause him great pain, his convulsions last-
ing more than two minutes. When be was quite dead the
cap was removed from his face. In the afternoon two
Wien who were seen attired in deep mourning on the place
of execution were arrested. The body was removed the
same night by the police and buried in lime.

THE COMPANIES ACT, 1862. The Forms
ad Ammon Boobs required seder the above Ask Moo
All Maar lauds of Assoost Hooks, with every litsamiery rii-
spaslto for Priblio Complains. Lao I:auntie/6410 m. dm.. sop
pTied on Um Orb Memo Moils, of snap dosorlialoa
bws Minipsvod ssd Printed Oasial Soda do
slimed sad ezosonod.
AM sad IBM. Y. floonoinst, iC. sad Lalidaaialdp, Li.

The police are henceforth to act as relieving
officers for the Strand Union, and commenced their
new duties at the office in Bow-street last Saturday
night. The old place of application was exactly
opposite the present one, and next door to the
police-court, and tickets were nightly issued by a
parochial functionary for admission into the work-
house in Cleveland-street, Fitsroy-square. The
newact specifies " wayfarers, wanderers, and found-
lings" as the persons eligible for a night's lodging,
and it was for the relief of these that tickets were
issued on Saturday, in similar fashion as before, but
by the police. Through the courtesy of Mr. Super-
intendent Durkin, we were present during the re-
ception of applicants, saw the new system initiated,
bad every facility for remarking its working. and
for noting the difference. between it and the older-
fashioned treatment of " casuals " adopted by the
guardians of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields and other
parishes. There can be no question but that the
old method is infinitely less repugnant to the poor
people themselves, and it seems certain that such
unions as do not avail themselves of the services of
the polies will find their wards in greater request
than ever during the winters, whilst those who do will
possibly have rooinand to spire. For it maybe con-
ceded teilkent difficulty that among.the ranktoitfre
homeless are many to whom a night's lodging on a
doorstep or archway would be intinitely preferable
to an interview and cross-examination in a police-
office, and that the certainty of having to run the
gauntlet of constables, sergeants, inspectors, and
superintendent, is enough to stimulate the most
feeble and revive the most foot-sore to the extent of
reaching some adjacent parish where a night's
lodging may be obtained under pains, penalties,
and mortifications less severe. This feeling is
altogether independentof the treatmentexperieosed.
There was no hick of consideration on the part of the
police on Saturday, but had they been veritable
ministering angels both in word and deed, the effect
would have been the same, and both wayfarers and
wanderers would have still left the office with a
deeply-rooted conviction that society had at length
spoken its mind, and, by making pauperism penal,
bad given effect to a feeling long suppressed.
Seated at a desk in a back office, and looking
directly over the bar before which the pauper appli-
cants were brought, we scrutinised each face in
turn, and readily appreciated the vast difference
between a formal cross-examination by • skilled
inspector, and a mere friendlyl colloquy with an
apparently sympathetic master of a workhouse.
There are beds for twenty-nine men and ten
women in the casual ward of the establishment
in Cleveland-street—two children reckoning as one
adult ; and Mr. Durkin informed us that if, when
the tickets for this number were exhausted, any
very urgent awe presented itself, such as serious
illness or alarming exhaustion from hunger or
fatigue, that he had authority toseud the sufferer to
a lodoug•house, and to charge the expense thereof
to the guardians. We ligi not understand that
mere hunger, or wet, or uselessness coustituted
a claim after the casual-ward had beeu once filled,
and it may be inferred that, if houseless wanderers
are still to be seen hanging miserably about the
streets in this district, they are not eligible
under the conditions laid down. Under pre-
sent circumstances, it is obvious that the guardians
who are most liberal and considerate will have
the greatest number of casual paupers thrust upon
them, and so saddle their parish with the heaviest
charge ; while, per contra, those who hedge in the
relief they give with discomfort and difficulty will
be comparatively free from the supplications of the
destitute poor.
But let the facts speak for themselves. Precisely
at 8 o'clock a constable was sent out with orders to
bring in all the people seeking admission at the
door. These were conducted into the yard of the
station, and were brought into the office one by one,
the instructions being that women, aged people,
and children were to be attended to first. There
were none of these at the commencement of the
proceedings, and J. S., a young man of 20, was the
first name entered in the new book. An inspector
or sergeant of police stood at the desk or bar, and
took down all particulars, much as they ere entered
in an ordinary charge sheet, while other policemen
stood about, to whom the superintendent gave
necessary orders from time to time. J. S. had
come to London to seek employment ; had never
been in London before ; was quite positive of that.
He had walked twenty miles, and had slept in a
union in Essex last night. He was a decent-
looking, keen-visaged, bright-eyed lad, whose
tightly-fitting corduroys, long waistcoat, closely
cropped hair, together with that indescribable
horsey look which stable experience gives, made his
professed avocation, a groom, seem probable enough.
His mother was dead ; his father lived in Driffield,
in Yorkshire, and he had walked from thence to
town, " hoping to get something to do in looking
after horses, or the like of that." In reply to
" What money have you about you ?"—• question
put to each applicant—he said, "A peony ;" and
when the order, "Johnson, search this man," had been
obeyed, he was ,found, in this particular at all
events, to have spoken truth. "We shall give
you a ticket, which you'll take to Cleveland-street,
where you'll have a bed for the night." "Thank
you, sir." " But, mind ! we shall know you again
Tae Aectieiseors or C.orresever AND Youz.— endeavour
If you come ben any more, so you must .
These prelates have fixed Thursday, the Bth instant, to to procure work, or you'll be sent to prison," and
receive the address which has lately been in circulation, es- with this gentle hint J. S. was dismissed for the
pressing gratitude for their graces' pastoral letters. Any night, a policeman being deputed to direct him to
person who baa signed the address, and who wishes to at- the proper turnings for the workhouse to which he
tend the deputation, is requested to seed his name to J. G. was accredited. Next came J. W. from Colches-
Talbot, Esq., 10, Great George-street, S.W. ; or
.Wilber .
ham Taylor, Esq., 1, Robertstreet, Adelplii, W.C. The ter, whom we immediately recognised as one of the
deputation will meet at Lambeth Palace at 1.45 on the lads we saw housed at St. Martin's a fortnight ago.
above-meotioaed day.—Guardiam He looked paler, thinner, and more ragged, wan,
THE WEeLETANS AND THE ESTABLISHED CHUROH. and hungry ; but the shifty, troubled expression,
—At the meeting of the Chapel .Building Fund in City- the wandering, restless eye, and the nervous,
road. Dr. Waddy, who was not long since president of the
coofereoce,. is reported by the frotchntan as thus expressing twitching hand were all there. He bad no money
himself : 'He should deeply regret their being driven lat all had ll walked from Romford that day, and had
halo a position of active hostility and agitation, which, how. I eaten a bit of bread for dinner, which a woman
ever justifiable it miebt be, would, in the first instaoos, be i gave him on the road. "Cleaning tins in • baker's
greatly prejudicial to the spirituality of their churches;
and, fora time, the work of conversion would be hindered. shop at Chatham" was his last employment, and be
But if their dead were to be insulted, and if p.O.
married I
‘lV.as dismissed because his master " did not want
by them were to be told that they were not married at an, nun any more? All this coincided with the story
sad their children were illegitimate ; if the cooscieaces of he told to the master of St. Martin's in our pre-
their people were to be disturbed, and the sacred and Bence ; but when the question came, " How long
hallowed relations of their families to be questioned, then it
might become necessary for them, at whatever amount of have you been in London r truth was sacrificed,
and the stereotyped " I've never been here
Firmest risk, to take their stand and keep it."
before, sir," was heard. A ticket, and
TESTIMONIAL TO CAPTAIN JOHN RYAN, Or THE
ALBION STEAMBOAT.—On Tuesday afternoon twenty-five the warning as to the necessity of finding
gentlemen, frequent summer visitors to Ramsgate and I work and the certainty of prison in case of failure
Margate. invited Captain Ryan to dinner at the Bridge. i and continuous vagrancy having been given, J.
house Hotel, and in testimony of his zeal and ability, arid W. went on his way, and T. W. stood before us in
the continued kindness and courtesy shown to them on their I his stead. We had here A boy of eighteen, whose
various journeys, presented him with a gold watch sod .
chain of the value of fifty gulping, and a half hoop diamond •t f 1 hones open ace, unfaltering eye, and simple
ring of the value of twenty guineas for Mrs. Ryan, also a vacuous mouth, made a striking contrast to the
handsomely engrossed and framed list of subscribers, . appearance of his predecessor. It was euy to
seventy in number (forty-eight gentlemen and twenty-two believe the " never been in London before" now,
ladies), the sulscription befog limited to one guinea each.
for the whole bearing spoke of pasture land andTbe address to Captain Ryan was of a very complimentary .
character, the dinner and wines were excellent sod well cows, and loani,and hedgerows and ploughed fields.
served, and the company most agreeably entertained. Mr. Though manifestly puzzled and bewildered at the
11 'Doswell. member of the Metropolitan Board of Works, novelty of the situation, and the searching tines-
presided, and Mr. L Cox, of Chaucery-lane, was vice-pre- tions be had to answer, he told a plain unvarnished
indent
THE COLLISION oar LIVERPOOL.—On Tuesday ' and consistent story. He slept in Hertford week-
night, about half past nine o'clock. an alarming collision house the previous night, had dined that day on
occurred off the mouth of the port, as alreedy reported by twopence a man gave him and his companion on
telegraph. It appears that the Royal Canadian Mail the road between London and Hitchin, bad no
steamer North American, on entering the Mersey, kept in money at all now, and was going to seek for work at
close with the Cheshire side of the river, until midway the docks to-morrow. When asked, as a test of
between the Rock Light and the Spumoni landing pier, dais._....hfulnesst which way he had come into Lon-
whet her how was headed across the river towards the "`"`"
North Docks where the Canadian mail steamers generally don, he gave "the regular turnpike road" for
berth. The steamer had scarcely answered the action of answer, and his knowledge as to this being a place
her helm, when an alarming collision occurred by the for receiving shelter, and the docks one for obtain-
steamer running with a terrible crash into a large brig
Iris( at anchor opposite Egremoot. The brig was literally ing work, was gained from "the other young man,
him az cum in fust," whom he had met near
set in two, and sank is about four or five minutes. taking
Ilitchin, and who we now
with her all the valuables on hoard. The crew, fourteen in dm'covered ite
, bad, desp
number, together with the pilot who brought the vessel his protestations, 'been in London on previous occa-
into port, fortunately escaped and were takea oa beard the Mona long enough to know the workhouse and to
steamer. They saved nothing but what they stood ie, and have worked at the docks. A ticket, and the same
bad the night bees thick instead of being clear. the poor caution as to work and a prisou followed, and
owed,
fellows would have shared a hard fate. The name of the
brig was Mercator, bound frees Oases to Liverpool, lad= , poor Hodge went off to his bed. Next we bad
with grata. ' an excruciatingly sharp London street boy, who

gave his age me 17, but who looked quite three
I years younger. He had walked from Oraveseud
since the morning, had no parents, at least hu
mother lived in an institution he didn't know
where, and she'd always told him he'd no claim
upon his father, because they'd never been married.
His father was a seal-engraver in a street off Soho
(number and name given), whereupon • ooustable
was told off to take the boy to the address fur-
nished ; and J. M., aged 29, was ushered in—an
agricultural labourer, who had worked for eighteen
months for Mr. H., of Woolwich, hut wbo bad for
five weeks past been about the country looking for
work ; he bad come from Woolwich Oda day,
hoping to get employment from Mr. M., of West-
minster, for whom be " had driven a team" some
time before. He bad not a farthiug about him ;
and this case was so manifestly genuine
that be was spared the indignity of personal
searching, sod in place of " the prison,"
• settled residence was mentioned to him,
if he should fail in obtaining work. A handsome
lad of 17, who had also oome from Woolwich on the
day before, who had slept at the Field-lane Refuge
the preceding night, who bad no father or mother,
and wbo did not know whether his only brother
was dead or alive, was the next comer. He had
worked for a painter at Bristol during the summer,
but trade was very slack there now, and be had
come up for, and tried hard to obtain, work in
town. He had three halfpence, and when the
searcher found a herring in one of his pockets as
well, he explained that both money and fish bad
been given by the same man. He was now bent on
returning to Bristol, a project warmly encouraged
by his interlocutor. In W. 8., aged 60, we bad a
truthful presentment of the conventional stage vil-
lain. Long black matted hair hanging in thick
confusion over his heavy brow, a ragged untidy
beard, loose-fitting short pea-jacket, and careless
bearing reminded one more of " the bold smug-
gler" of fiction, than the railway plate layer
of fact. But this was only before he began to
talk. Then in the richest and broadest Hiber-
nian he told of the work he had been
engaged on at St. Albans, and how the " rheu-
matic pains" first made him unfit to work on the
line, and finally laid him up until his savings were
exhausted. He had walked from St. Albans that'
day, had left there at six in the morning, had • '
piece of dry bread for his dinner, and bad reached
London at 7.30. His tale seemed both truthful
and consistent, with the exception of the age he
gave, for while in spite of every disadvantage of
shabby clothes, insufficient food and fatigue, he
lookel about forty, he persisted in giving sixty, or
clam upon it, as his true age. When asked in what
year he was born, he said in all seriousness : "Well,
sir, I don't remember it meeself, but I'm close upon
sixty, I am indeed, stir, and I am of Irish pairints
though bor'rn at say." His, " It's the first time
oi've ever begged a night's lodging," was fully
believed, and the " only a piney, which is the
laving' of what I'd saved before I was took with
the rheumatics," accepted without a search. These
six people were the only applicants to whom
tickets were supplied, though, beside the boy who
had teen sent with a policeman to look out his
father, there was a girl of eighteen, whose confes-
sion that she possessed fivepence prevented her
appeal for shelter being granted. She was re-
spectably clad in woollen dress and shawl, with
neatly trimmed bonnet and dark kid gloves, and
looked far more like a housemaid or milliner's ap-
prentice out on an errand than a pauper seeking a
bed. It was not without considerable persuasion
she could be induced to state her case or speak at all.
With downcast head, and eyes steadfastly fixed on
the ground, she at length told her brief sad story in
a faint whisper, and as if each word cost her an
effort only second to that whereby she kept back
the heart-stricken wail of a sorrow too deep for
tears. She had left her friends, and could never
never return to them, had—after repeated questions
put—" been living with a gentleman, but they had
quarrelled, he had treated her cruelly, and she bad
left him that morning never to return." To kindly-
meant advice as to going home at all hszards, and
to all warnings as to the danger of wandering about
the streets, she slowly and painfully whispered,
" I've no friends now, and no home." To the next
question, " What do you mean to do for the
future I" she replied that she had heard of a
refuge for girls, where they did not turn
them out without providing them with a situation,
and she thought if she could be taken care of in
the workhouse for one night she could make
application there to-morrow. Neither penitence
nor heavy trouble were spoken of. but the shrink-
ing, timid figure, the dry white lips and downcast
attitude, couveyrd repentance, anguish, and • half
despairing prayer for succour, with an eloquence to
which the must powerful language would seem
feeble and tame. The possession of fivepence made
her, as we have said, ineligible for parish relief,
and the most that could be done was to tell her
where she could obtain a bed for fourpence in a
lodging-house where only females were taken in.
After she left, which she did meekly and uure-
piniogly, saying " Thank you," and bowing
mechanically, like one in a dream, it was settled
that the possession of fourpence, as the amount for
which a bed can be procured, should debar any
applicant for a ticket, but that anything under that
sum should be overlooked.' The policeman who
had been to Soho with the boy who "had uo claim
upon his father," here returned, saying that the
name and address given were correct, but that the
said father had " gone down to his country house "
for the night. Whereupon the boy was sent with •
constable to St. Pancras workhouse, in which parish
the mother had lived in a street off Tottenham-
court-road—it was held he belonged, with orders that
" if they won't take him in you must bring him back
here, and we'll try them at Cleveland-street." We
have, for the better comprehension of the reader,
given the particulars of each case in unbroken
sequence, but it must not be supposed that one fol-
lowed upon the heels of the other without interven-
ing delay. On the contrary, as these interviews
took place in an ordinary police-office, so the usual
nightly business of that office had to be carried on.
The paupers stood between the little iron dock and
the inspector's desk, and of course bad to make
way whenever that dock was occupied. At one
time a drunken and quarrelsome married couple
settled their matrimonial differencesbehiud the bars;
at another a more drunken Irish labourer with
black eyes and blood-stained face was ushered in.
This man had been locked up often enough to know
that the proceedings before bin were a novelty, and
signified his approval with tipsy gravity, until the
interrogatories in the case then going on were long
enough to weary him, when he bung bead and
shoulders over the upper bar and fell asleep
as he stood, looking very like a damp scarecrow
hung out to dry. Another interruption occurred
when the landlady of a cheap coffee-house came to
announce she had been robbed ; and yet another
when& constable reported that "a vagrant bad bin
and tore every rag off him, and was now lying stark
naked on the stones in the dark arches of the
Adelphi." In answer to " What have you dune
with him r,the reply, " Well, sir, I gin him liberty
to lie there until I reported the case," sounded odd,
not to say unfeeling, until it was explained that
• policeman was now kept on duty in these dark
arches, to prevent vagrants lingering or sheltering
there, as they were formerly prone to do. A rug
was sent down front the office, and with this hud-
dled round him the shivering wretch was walked off
to the workhouse of Si. Martin's. There were but

• We learnt subsequsutly that, by order of this superle-
Modest, a sergeant of police ma several uesuccessful
efforta to get this girl into a refuge. He failed in some
houses' because she bad not 'bough money to pay for a
week's lodging in advance, and in others because the matron
found that oh* gave unsatisfactory answers to the questions
pot to her, and that ea, by a rule of the institution, rely
young women of good character 000ld be housed, the girl
before her baying 000fessedly lived with a gentleman, wee
ineligible for admission.

NEWSPAPER
31W
'lllllllllll
—it .
-171... r 4 ' •
4, I'
SS R . It
• i
id. Additional.] [TWOPENCE
illi
ii.i
. ‘
six tickets issued at Bowstreet for the thirty-nine
vacant beds of the Strand ;mice workhouse during
the night of Saturday, the nth • but three during
that of Sunday, the 27th ; but 'two on Monday,
the 28th ; and eight on Tuesday, the 29th ult.
These figures t. aim ! a decrease in the
‘umber of homeless wretobes in our
-eats—for on each of the evenings quoted from
sty to thirty applicants were refused admission
, St. Martin's for want of room—but that those
vorkhouges which put a long walk and an inter-
iew with the police between their charity and its
scipienta will find their accommodation more than
efficient for their needs. When Mr. Scrooge
marked, "I kelp to support the establishments I
ive mentioned (prisons and union workhouses),
rd those who are badly off must go there," he was
set with " Many cannot go there, and many would
saber die." It cannot be supposed that any of
he homeless would deliberately prefer death to
ihelter, but it would certainly seem that we can
make the chance of failure at some workhouses,
with the alternative of a night in the streets, pre.
ferable to the certainty of success at others, if we
it adopt a series of judicious precautions. No
iy of men could have performed a painful and
ponaible duty with greater firmness and skill than
oaken we mixed with on Saturday ; but the
iutine of their office, the very uniforms they wear,
re a manifest deterrent to .he destitute, and
rhetber this be considered advantageous or the I:, I
everse, the result only proves the necessity of some •
sweeping and uniform system of relief being adopted
throughout the length and breadth of the metro- .
PHs.
DRAMA.
-----
ADELPHL h
The last novelty brought out at the Porte St.
Martin theatre in Puts is an elaborate drama by MM. A. ,
D'Ennery and Dumaooir, called Lea Drumm do Catartt. • '
sod this piece was transferred last night to the boards of '
the Adelphi, under the title of The Workmen of Paris; or,
the Dramas of the Wine-shop. Mr. Benjamin Webster has
d this rose, with all its original music and effects,
aided by his son—Mr. Benjamin Webster, junior—he
4 translated it for the English stare without any attempt
it adaptation. Several incidents more agreeable to French
han English audiences have been toned down in the
lelphi version, but substantially the two dramas are idea- o
il en plot and character. These are pre-eminently
days of cheap Paris excursions, and eter-
French translation; mixed with a little Ger- , ,
.1, and we may therefore assume that a certain
Lumber of average playgoers are as familiar with Parisian.
tie as English "dramatic authors" and theatrical managers
ad it profitable to be. Mr. Webster has honestly bought
he right of acting this piece, and his paid for it, and he has
iven the French author the place of hollow oa the play- f
ill.
S.
The acting was excellent. There is a great deal of merit
I some weeny is the character of Van Gratz—the old
statical man of the world, and Mr. Webster played it most t'
Artistically. Ilia makeup was exceedingly effective and
natural. In the cool comedy of his first scene and the
tragic faros of his other scenes he was equally finished and
powerful, and the character may be ranked aa one of his
Treat &UOC•11110R. Mrs. Alfred Mellon, as Blanche, acted
with all bar old vigour, so often shown in Adelphi drama,
red Mrs. Stirling, as Madame Daubry, was full of homely
:length and pathos. Mr. Brllington, as the Young Count,
In. Billington, as the Countess, Mr. Stephenson aa the
d Irish doctor, Mr. R. Phillips as the work-
_ Daubry, Mr. Stuart as the workman Chain-
l', 1111,'I 6 •
bond, end Mir Simms as Joseph; all worked hard to co-
'moo the soccer of the piece. Mr. John Clarke, as Cabochon,
. with all his dry and original humour. sad MN Sea-
„An was very pleasing as a young dressmaker. The excel-
lence of the scenery, by Mears. Thompson sod Gates, was ' i
July acknowledged by the authors, ad the band did good
emir by the way in which it performed the garbled musk •
by M. Artus. Tb• piece is not without faults : the great
foundry some would be much more impressive if the aced-
It had happened to any character in which the audience
• an interest ; but taken as a whole, we may probably
' The IV,rkmen of Paris as a goo strong,
Adelphi drama.
azirvmarr nirkzualows. ,f,.
--4"—OXFORD, Nov. so.
BaiLioL CouroL—The election to the open
fellowship at this College, which commenced Nov. 24,
terminated at a late period last erring in favour of Mr.
Courteoay Peregrine Dbert, R A., Scholar of Mind Col-
lege, and formerly of Marlborough College. Mr. Ilbert,
besides taking the highest honours io the Schools, ob-
tained the Hertford Scholarship in 1861 and the Ireland
Scholardship in 1862. The competitors for the fellowship
were all first clan men. and the competition was exceed-
iogly close. Mr. Dbert is aeon of the Bev. Peregrine A.
Magi, Rector of Thurlestoa; Devoe.
REPRESENTATION OF FINSBURY.
error in
s held last ,
,
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distinction r i
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e
purposes 1 •
ad
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the latter
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clew to !
behalf of
when dee. 1I 1
the wrong-
for them
I
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by, sod I
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t it ENS.
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annual
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James's
regulated il
Ir. Saraa'S
ices of the r i
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ii•ii,glloeit
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Liu, Caul=
the lion. ~ i
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Warwick-
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tinningham
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the death
, and the
pulley, the I
'he feeling
being pur-
candidate.
them Mr. I
ssier, who
i
re county,
CZ I
iingharn ; ,
Aber to
thttomas,
r was sot
1.11.021* ho
; thought
dopted as
into in the
. defraying
trees (if be
n after the ,
.. .
o have been
aid be dots
paper bob'
lorry in-
'e private
ties were
meeting
..i will be
le county
- beaten
as also a
:nand Sir 11
Spooner; I . .
At was
.131ITED).
18e. Pd. I 11
1 i
ii
1
1
13
it