The Express.
London, England, 1851-02-01 00:00:00

LITERATU RE.

" The Forty. Five." By Loan ldartoN. Murray.
This compact volume present., in an elegant and
portable form, half a &nen chapter. from • Lord Ma-
bon's "History of England," containing the narrative
of the Pretender's expedition in 1745. It is a very
judicious reprint. Now that Jacobitiern bag sunk
into something which produces a spasmodic ballad
occasionally, or au extenuation of Clavering's butch-
eries,—which is learned in tartans, and sings " Hey
Johnnie Cope" at the second tumbler,—all mankind
can read the stery with much the same impartiality
as they do that of the flight of Ic .ros. Perhaps the
two best remembered scenes in the whole drama are
the gallantry of Fl)ra Macdonald and the buffoonery
of Lord Lovat at his trial. Let us glance once more
back at this historical romance of the last century.

Lord Mahon begins by introducing Charles Eduard,
akhe appeared in the beginning of this memorable
year. He had a fine oval face; blue eye.; wore his
hair in long ringlets. So far, we see, the opening is
precisely that of a novel ; while, with a candour
which novelists would do well to imitate, we are in-
formed that the Prince had not learned to spell.
Hie lordship, who examined the " Stuart Papers" in
Windsor Castle, found that Charles wrote his father's
name Gems—which reminds the modern reader of
the hero of " Buckley-equare." It is really melan-
choly to think that no hater provision should have
been made for the education of this youth, wh with
naturally fine qualities, bad been brought up to con-
sider himself entitled to the throne of England' Bat
he was left in the hands of " monks and bigots." The
Stuarts, after they left Scotland, never could steer
between extremes—they were always either pedants
or profligates. These are just the contrasts that
make the attraction of emnedy—and comedy the
&auto played, for which the spectators had a
high price to pay.
%I'earitd with the degradation of hanging on on a
French court which would do nothing, and suffering
from all those petty cares of exile which Macaulay
has described so well, Charles seems to have grown
desperate at last. Against the advice of all his sup-
porters in Scotland, who intimated that they n could do
nothing in his behalf unless he came with a body of
at least 6,000 troops and 10,000 stand of arms'—he
resolved, "at all hazards," to attempt the enterprise.
What arms he did raise were conveyed in
a French ' frigate, which, however, got uisubled
by an English man-of-war, and had to put back. His
own little brig was " clamed," but got away. At
last, after a fortnight's sailing, he reached the West-
ern Wards, and landed at Moidart. Everybody's first
impulse seems to have been to look on the expedition
as an insane one. Macdonald, of Boiedale, refused
to have anything to say to him. Clanrenald and
other Macdonald. prophesied lain; but they were
brave men and enthusiastic men—the Stuart family
have always been fatal to such men—and they joined.
Charles established himself in a farm-house, and sent
letters to the Jacobite chiefs, who now found them-
selves called from their homes to risk their lives, with
ruin staring them in the face. Again and again ono
admires their gallant enthusiasm; and, indeed, their
conduct quite outshines whatever beauty there was
in that of Charles. lie implored their blood front
them with greedy selfi,hness—and they gave it. lie
was unquestionably brave; but we cannot discern
that there was anything in his views worthy of a man
who had a "divine right." He seems to have had no
nobler notion of his cause than if the crown were some
private property be had been ejected from, and was to
get back by levying a posse comitatus. He used
the hereditary arta of attraction, so as to degrade
them into clap-trap ; and his eagereess for a fray
smacked of the excitement of the sportsman.

The standard was raised, and troops began to drop
in day by day, and at last Charles was on his march
southward. The people in Edinburgh opened their
eyes at last (tor up to this time the aw horities had
behaved very much like the Dutch governors in
Knickerbocker), and Sir John Cope was sent out
against the enemy. Cope seems to have been a solid,
sturdy man, ready to fight in a blind, heavy way when
needful, but to have had no more genius than a wag-
goner. The solid man set out, passed the enemy, and
went off to Inverness. Charles at once marched
towards the Lowlands, joined by " Grants of Glen-
morriston,"—bis army swelled by little tribes of blue-
eyed, kilted Highlanders from glen to glen,—and
reached Blair, the seat of the Duke of Atha:. Lord
George Murray, that duke's brother, joined him,
and was the most valuable officer he had from first to
last. Charles got into Edinburgh after prodigies of
—cowardice from those who ought to have resisted
him, and there he gave a great ball. Let us hear
Lord Mahon for a senteeee or two, and try and pic-
ture our brave young adventurous friend just having
a little taste of kingship—as /Eneas enjoyed an inter-
view with his parent and got a sight of the ghosts of
old Trojans in the Elysian fields ! " His noble t:iritt
and hie graceful horsemanship could not fail to strike
even the moat indifferent spectators, and they were
seemly less pleased at his national d •ess—a tartan
out, a blue bonnet, with a white cockade, and a star
of the order of St. Andrew. . . Charles showed
that neither the fatigue of the previous march, nor the
anxiety of the coming conflict, 0..u1d impair his
natural vivacity and powers of pleasing; and the
ladies were loud in his praises, many of the younger,
perhaps, thinking that the cause of so handsome a
prince and so graceful a dancer could not possibly be
wrong."
His lordship, by-the-bye, me/yr4 the good-
natuted sneer in the tail of hta sentence, is a little
inclined to think with the young ladies himself, which
tendency, clearly perceptible in conflict with his sense
and protestantism, has a half-amusing effect. We
are very much mistaken, indeed, if he would not have
joined in the dance that night,—if not in the more
serious "country dance," which went "down the
middle," as far as Derby, and "back again," in a
melancholy state, to the glens.
The Earl of Kellie, Lord 13almerino, Sir David
Murray, and others, meanwhile joined the rising.
Solid Cope who was " wauking," as the song says,
at last, marched down; Charles thrashed him at
Preston Pans in about six minutes, after which—
" The Highlanders wreaked their whole fury on such
dragoon horses as they could reach, believing that
these animals were trained to bite and tear in battle,"
and then " most of the rioters disbanded for plunder."
On the last day of October Charles set out to the
southward and entered England. His army officers
were divided by squabbles among themselves; a for-
midable force was marching against him. By a de-
vice of Lord Murray's, his force deceived the Duke of
Cumberland, and reached Derby on the 4th December.
But what impression did all this make in London
Charles was now at Derby, with 5,000 fighting men,
an the march open before him. We have an account
of the impression from a writer to whom one is always
glad to return—a man who observed like Mephis-
topheles, and described like Voltaire—a man who has
made pleasantry classical in English—that great high
priest of the god of wit—Horace Walpole. lioraceWal-
pole was at this time about twenty-eight year', of age,
and was living comfortably (on three fat alumina) in
Arlington-street. " I look upon Scotland," he says, in
September, "u gone !" In the next letter he has the
following amusing paragraph (Letters to Sir Horace
Mann, vol. ii., p. 31) :
Every new and then a Scotchman cornea and pulls the
boy ((this is his name for the Pretender) by the sleeve;
" Prince, here is another mon taken !" Tnen, with all the
dignity in the world, the boy hopes nobody was killed in the
action. Lord Buts has made a piece of a ballad of the Duke
of Newcastle's speech to the regency. I have heard but
these two lines of it :
"Pray consider, my lords, how disastrous a thing,
To have two Prince of Wales'', and • king!"
At first, it was the fashion in London to speak of
the rebellion as an affair of no consequence ; but when
the news of the arrival at Derby reached town, it
threw London "into great consternation," says Wal-
pole. "There never was so melancholy a town," ho
also states. Charles had evaded the armies both of
the Duke of Cumberland and Wade, and it now
seemed probable that he could reach the metropolis
before either could intercept him. This, in
fact, was the crisis of the expedition,—of the
fate of Charles, and of the fortunes of the house of

Stuart. A very decided measure of success had been
obtained; an advantage over a dangerous opposition
had been established. March on, or not march on,
was the question upon which everything depended.
Charles, in consistence with his spirit throughout,
was for advancing on London. His °Meer' were
decidedly opposed to it. He implored and entreated,
but they were inflexible. On the 6th began that re-

trot led by Charles, in bit ter sullenness of heart, a hi& I
aided at Culloden. Lord Mahon tells us explicitly;
that it is his opinion that, " had Charles marched
pawned, he wou'd have gained the British throne,"
though I e doub's, of course (bow could he say other-1
w non ?). whether he could have kept it. TLis
ise
guevioo to the settlement of which there needs ens
important element: what are we to consider to have
been the real amount of latent Jacobitiam ? Allow
that he Ind surprised London before the Duke el
Cumberland intercepted him.—though we 'mow that
that officer, with an army which contained the flower
of those who fought at Fontenoy, started to North-
ampton inunmiately, to get between him and the
city; allow that the third army, forming at Fitchley,
lad set yet been organised,—though the proposal
flte it was warmly supported by the city—we do not
sot bow he meld have achieved any further success
thig gmeil war,with himself in an enormous minority.
He had bra joined by very few Jacobite gentlemen,
and scarcely any neruits among the people ; and he
tad a most important and wealthy party against him
—thole great Whig families whose watchword was
"the lievolatioe." He was of a religion the prase.
lon of which in a man aiming at the throne was an
imperil:cam to the law of Use land, nine-tenths of
ltr peon* and the memories of lour geoeratiors of
their fathers. Surely the great mites of a people whose
fathers win vender a Christian hero, the soldiers
of European prttestantiam, srd who bad changed
their dyeaety rather than see that rell.on it suited,
wire nut 1111101 to bow down once more to a l'opieb

pine.
Vstiooe eirecm•tanon show that there was a great
deal of Jacobite sentiment in the country, certainly.
Long after " the '4;," Johnson said to Boswell a the
Hanoverian family is ie.lie here, sir." The doctor
himeell use bilged with Jacobitiam, and so was Ofild-
smith, in his rode way. ManeSeld was a Jacobite
in his ycoth—and, if Junin. is to be believed, a pretty
enthosiastie ore. Plenty of the descendants of an-
lire families must have loved the cause ; and a eon-
proportion of the pedantry of the land
loved its pricciphe. But where were the English
Jecubites alien Charles was at Drib'? Where were
the grandma*. of Browning's "Kentish Sir Byng,"
who—

stood for his Vag,
Iliddiag the erop-beaded parliament swiss!
There woe • "sentiment" certainly; and now-a-
days gentlemen bear aria and put griffins on their
earn 6—without, however, the least wish to fight
foe the reiteration of feudal institutions! They may
1%:101 to preserve their partridges, but would not tonal
out to maths' fur the rights of "pit and gallows"
over their tenantry.
An important power—not easily definable at the
time—tor only measoreable at any time—a power
more important than the greediness of party or the
traditionary feelings of families, was against Charles's
attempt. It was what the writ-ra of one school
would call the "Marti: mist. tendency " of the age—
what is called the spirit cf the age. There e:1,11 a
general idea aft( at that, whether Stuart or Honorer
bad the beet traditionary right or not—whether
wee a " bonnie prince Charlie," end George
the Serried a passionate old soldier, who loved Ha-
nover better than Euplaed, or tot ; yet that George,
being here settled, had better be established herr
permenentl. England warded peace to work, lei-
sure to read, ad to reform. The old feelings of lop
airy and enthaium were worn out. Glasgow was
agait et Chutes strongly—a significant fact. It was
the dawn of the cawing utilitarianism. A nation
who nal beard of Pope's

itight diviat of kings to govern wrong,
and read with rapture Swift's account of the king-
dom ut I.illiput MI re not in the humour to @acacia
themselves for thu benefit of en adventurous young
retinues of long curie and imperfect spelling. This
levi•nir accounts fur the iorrila of everybody in the
metier; the real enthusiasms was among the moat
pp rim and the wildest Highlanders. England
of Chailes's defeat with -pleasure, and saw
what we moat call his " victims'. executed with 1411111`
thing very like satisfaction.
l'uarles's vetted, his vio'ory over the ruffian
Hawley, at Fa kirk, and dioistrous defeat at Colic-
den. are well given by Lord Mahon, and
do not stip:re detail here. The Duke of
Cumberland's conduct after his victory was cer-
tainly brutal. Ile was • good orthodox soldier,
and seems to have marched over the battle-ground
like an elephant in an Indian war—working more
with him hoofs than his head. Everybody remembers
the divine enthuaimm of Flora Macdonald. Charles
went through his hardships with real manly fortitude,
and it is wits mingled feelings of congratulation and
madness that one reads that in Paris ho was received
" with a burst of applause at the Opera "—when one
semeinbers what kind of much more numerousaudienos
—blunt old Balmerino, gentle Kilmarnotk, and the
emir tree but bold aid I,ovat had to encounter in his
tame on Tower-hill!

Lnd Mahon is an industrious historian, with a clear,
plessoie style. There is a sneering pauege of inter-
ions at p. 84, open to censure ; but the sentiment
of the entire boa is so manly and generous that
nobody would like ►o part from it with any other
fftlings thaw respect and admiration. His observation
on Loves adopting on the 'colloid Iforact's famous
line—

hare et decorum est pro 'lstria 'owl,
that, " in truth, no man wu ever lees strongly imbued
with that sentiment, except primps its writer!" reads
like WIC 01 Glbboll'll notes.

I thank the closeness of his cor.ncetion by family ties
with the quartermareugeneral of the Indian army fur
hie good fortune. The detachment at last got into mo-
,tion, but at a snail-like pace, owing to the encum-
brance of the pontoon-train, which was continually
halting close up. On such an expedition, where a
watchful ecemy was to be surprised, silence, or at
least the absence of all unnecessary noise, was a first
object of desirability; but the camp-followers created
the greatest imaginable uproar, and the march
I was coadocted amid the most distracting sounds.
The efforts of Sir Joseph Thackwell to sup-
pees this disturbance were quite ineffectual.
The division reached the river at 11 a.m. The
Cheoab there consisted of bur channels, one beyond
the other; the sandbanks dividing the several arm
were most insecure, and the river was noted for gild
sande. Lieutenant Paton was three hours
last attempt to ascertain its capabilities, and El
reported that one of the branches was deep, with •
shifting bottom. The guns, then could not be dragged
through such a stream. Neither were the artillery
able to cover the passage of the British infantry, be
the bank on the other side was out of MSS
of sight and shot. The pontoon train, Mee-
over, was too short, and therefore uselese, nd the
sends were too loose to admit of its bsiag
securely fixed. The expedition was a complete
failure. Sir Joseph hereupon took counsel with
his officers, and as the ford had been found
utterly impracticable, it was determined to tzy
Wuzeersbad ford, and here the passage was ultimately
effected, but not until the troops had been subjected
to the severest privations by the utter absence of pee-
caution which marked the plan of the undertaking.
Lord Gough's despatch of Dec. 5 states that the ford
of Itunnee-Kban-K.e.Puttun was practicable. Was
this just or generous to an old and experienced
soldier, who had just demonstrated its impractiza-
' hility 7 The figures and despatches now col-
lected show that Lord Gough sent Sir Joseph
'fbackwell to perform an impossible task. Un-
fortunately the sin of this despatch does not end
kern. After the passage of the Ceenab by Tback well,
the enemy sipped almost unmolested. Lord Gough
makes this a ground of regret, and leaves it to be
supposed that Thackwell was without excuse for tot
having throne himself upon the Sikhs. It now ap-
pears that Lord Gough had peremptorily forbidden
Thickeed to engage the enemy before the arrival of
Godby's brigade, which did not come isto the field
till the enemy had begun to withdraw.
We are now brought to the disastrous action of
Mullin wallah. It will be remembered that the
army under Lord Gough reached the village of Coil.
lien at mid-day on the 13th of Dec. The General
biter drd to attack the enemy on the morrow, thus
giving his men the rest they needed, and ordered the
camp to be marched out behind Cbillian. The men
of the different regiments were in the act of falling
oat, when suddenly large bodies of the enemy were
descried in a jungle close on their front. Scarcely
had the quartermaster's department commenced its
operations, when a blaze was men, followed by a loud
seport,and shot fell near Lord Gough. Itisnaid that his
lordship had been under the influence of unusual ex-
citemeet all that morning, for he hastily embraced the
re' 'lotion of visiting such audacity with immediate
punishn.ent. It is even doubted whether he could
have deliberately intended to defer the action, as
Chouda Omrah offered a ermine encampment, with
equal conveniences. The balls which rained in upon
the British now afforded proof that the enemy had
begun in earnest. The only marks for the British
artillery were the lurid flash and smoke of the
enemy's guns. The cannonade en both sides
bad lasted half an hour, when, the army
preserving its original array, and without any
saw consultation on the altered state of affairs,
orders were brought to Brigadier Campbell to carry
the guns in his front at the point of the bayonet.
Major-General Gilbert received a like order; Pope was
to make a corresponding movement in flank ; and to
Thackwell no orders were given. The success of a
battle mainly depends on the previously well-con-
certed plan of operations, but Gough had held no
communication with his brigadiers since the previous
evening, although the original plan of attack had
become impracticable. The difficult nature of the
ground, too, rendered a common scheme of operations
and effective concentration of energies more absolutely
indispensable, for it was everywhere covered with
thick, high brushwood, and nothing was more
probable than that regiments would loss their dis-
tance, take a wrong direction, and even mistake friends
for foes. In such a position the superior discipline
of our army was of no avail; the veriest rabble of an
enemy, so long as their hearts were firm, was equal
to the best disciplined troops in this wilderness of
bush. Nothing can be conceived more reckleos than
to hurl a few weak brigades against the fresh and
active batteries of the enemy, supported by innu-
merable infantry, in such a dense jungle.
As connected with the much canvassed conduct of
Brigadier Pope, and also with the alleged cowardice
of the 14th Dragoons, the subjoined passage deserve*
to be quo:ed, remembering the writer's intimate
knowledge of the scene he describes:
CeiLONSL POPS AND SEM 14711 DRAGOONS.
The ofbea commanding the cavalry of Um right, LisuL-
Pope, was an odic rof native cavalry. He had sensed a high
reputation for personal courage in his younger days, bet
pfteemed no great knowledge of the art ut war. He knew
little about handbag Isere bodies of cavalry, and was suffer-
ing from such Wally infirmity as to be incapable of mount-
Mg his horse without assmtatice. That Ibis unfortunate
*dicer (we say unfortunate, banes hi wan in bad health)
should hay* been selected to command a brigade of cavalry,
assaisting of four regiments, two of which were British
=I:, reflects some discredit on Lord Gough and his
This ill fated man, who was only a lieutenant-
colonel, found himself most unexpectedly in the important
position of commander of the second cavalry brigade ,• whilst
his seniors, such active,experienced, and distinguished officers
as, Col. John. Scott, of the Nth Lancers were left use isployed,
to lade away in the solitude of a district cantonment in the
rear. It should be borne in mind that the 9th Royal Lan-
PM formed one of the regiments in Pope's brigade. The
ppointment of Lieut.-Colonel Pope was not only a rearm
non apes Colossi Scott, but slot upon the cavalry of her Ma-
jesty's army. Whew this of of native cavalry received
orders to advance, he actually moved the four cavalry regi-
ments is line without any support. Those four regusteau
were, however, seism bar squadrons, which bad been
detached to tie right, to thwart all attempts of the mealy
to turn our flank and penetrate to the rear. Amidst the
perplexing intricacies of the jungle, Colonel Pope not only
overlapped the troops of horse artillery posted between him
and Sir Walter Odbert's division, bat even gut in (rent of
Sir Gilbert himself. When the kern artillery became
destrou of opening firs on the Sikhs, they found in the
cavalry ea anezeected (Meow:time ; but Major Chris.
tie had scarcely expreosed astonishment at this un-
toward and provoking event, whoa he discovered that this
British horse were in retreat and coming down on his guns
[ with ungovernable impetuosity. It appears, that whilst
[ advancing, Brigadier Pope was severely wounded, having
sustained • sword cut on the head. The lose of their leader,
the absence of any order to charge (it must be remembered
that thiy were movie, at a walk), the disorder created by
the trees and bushes, and the appeararce of several Goer-
churns in the front must account In, what followed. Some-
how or other a halt took place, originating most probably
in Pope's own regiment, the 6th ht Cavalry, Cavalry, in conse-
quence of their colonel being wo The Sikh cavalry
sinnalatied in front, being emboldmed by the knits-
tees of the British line. About this time the seder,
"three's about," was distinctly heard by tome men of the
141 D:age4se. They turned with the rest; the Ovarthanas
te hot perm& It may be remasked, they the han-
kg of we rasp= was sufficient in the jangle te
eemeina Ile arseteis stoves:teat at the whole brigade.
When • kiely ef wary advances in line it sheald be rega•
lord by its seer% the right of the 14. h. If the two men
arm Whiled es assomperri their movement with the
loud of command, the mischief would be more certain.
Whoa the beck is emu tamed to a panning enemy it is not
leiter ea the road. la the impetuosity of the
so
14th were pissed by the other raeiments against
ilsolgsap ef Wes smillery. Ease, gunners, d waggons
POPS amber spew To crows she rainy the Gnor-
ilEs=s
wing SIM in the rear el Oa diagons, entered
ith el the my
with thrs. liegkseat was sow
triltratirt-11.1:b.01•1•11 itseyer—ellser
arra. Isms berms onersto
Aswan*. tbsirsiirs es the refs el the baggage
arm ere tre was rases is rove.
mots =Wit be soar this dietigoatiss el a
tit Two kw Goorchanse in penult were =ley
esifiensil imaginations of the fugitives intro
Whir* saws gui peat suggested fossil to all.
thee NMI as the following extract describe, ought
W r pied as fully as parfait Wore the public :
• INPAIMASION OP VILOI/11.
As rem diatoms from this brigade, ow a line with it,
Wthe ill-fated miens et the impetuous Peanyeulek.
isibire will stead to the elms of English history to
frebeteg warming ram! ovwfwerie; confidence sad'
sigglor of one's Gamy. IklieGist Alex =dr Penny-
*Skims se brays sad:ardent a eddies r ever lived. In
talliVaiberever he in lie foot, the Wats,- is-applasse
maimed

which must be addressed to Sir Colin Campbell and to Lord
(Loeb. Io this matter for reprehension Peneyeuiek wee
not prominently implicated. One party declared that the
thief ordered that the batteries should be immediately
stormed with the bponet, thereby implying the als-
seam of all necessity for the lam of guns. The
other reports that the only order given was to
advance, and that no general of division banished with
artillery ever went into action without. We do not under-
take to esy meted the elect nature of the ord.r was, but it is
vary manifest that neither the brigadier general nor his
brigadiers regarded the artillery as nemseary ; La other
words, the contempt of the enemy was not confined to poor
Peanyeuiek. The 24th Foot was composed of young men,
and went into action with higher spirits and numerically
stronger than any other corps of the army. It had not gone
far before the gesture of Lieut.. col. Brookes, who was waving
his sword over his head, summed the attention of the men.
Tney understood it to be a signal to double, and era.equently
increased their speed. Their distance from the Shale.
gone at that moment was upwards of six hundred
yards. They soon outran their native comrades,
who, at the best, bet 'ballad along in English leather
shoes with which they are supplied. The Stabs redoubled
their fire, and it fell to the lut of this gallant regiment te ex
peri, nee en atmosphere solely compounded of fire, grape,'
and round shot. To counteract all this there was no artil-
lery and no fire of musketry, for the men were unloaded.
So estraordioary, indeed, was the infatuation of the gallant
Psanycuick and Brookes, that they sent out skirmishes*
without ordering them to load. These unfortunate man,
dispersed through the jungle, helpless, fell an easy prey to
hidden Sikhs. The regiment armed breathless at the guns,
and had commenced the work of spiking them, when sud-
denly some regiments of the Iluanou force which were eon
'valid in the brushwood, opened a musketry fire with such
rapidity and precision, that them ill-fated men, al-
ready disordered by the brushwood and their hasty
advance, were seised with panic and fled. Now
a herbal massacre was enacted. The Sikh cavalry
premed close on the terror stricken fugitives, backing to
pieces all the wounded. Small wits occasioally rallied,
and o..rpies lying together in email diviaions might be maim
the morrow ; but oil endenvoure to present a formidable
hoot to the enemy were unavailing. Tnere were no . Seers.
Pennyeuiek and his eon, both officers of the 24th, fell just as
they reached the guns. • • • Nothing could emceed the
ferocity of the enemy. They showed no quarter, and were no
determined on inflicting death that they often gave twenty
blows with their sharp tulwars to one man. The senior major,
Paynter, was shot through the lungs, but his horse carted
him out of danger."

con.: siluti liar. By E. J. THACIMILL. Broth y.
It might be supposed that, while armies were found
to light, and Datums to pay for, great battles, there
would be co lack of histormas ready to describe at once
their progress acd celebrate their issue. Yet two years
hate eloper(' since the termination of that great and
memorable oampsign which began with the motion of
Itemnueger and ended with the victory of Goozerat
and the annexation of the Petojaub, and only within
three few days has anything like a broad view of its
metes been given to the world. The explanatioct
to he found to the one one word " Chilhanerallsh,"
that great disaster in which two thousand five hundred
British subiects lost their lives, or dropped blood, and
where six British guns were numbered with the Sikh
ordoacee. Mr. 'Rockwell, as aide-de-camp to that old
ital,roar, On. Sir Josh, Thackwell,:second in coommasd
in th iscampeign,en joy ed fineopprt unities of
and judging of the manner in which it was cc=
and ha, here placed the result of his experience before
the public in a very straightforward and intelligible
style. The causes and general purposes of the suc-
cession of battles he describes are too familiar to
every reader to need recapitulation here; we proceed,
therefore, at once to gather up what information the
writer can give on then points which most chal-
lnged criticism at the time of their occurrence.
We contemn with the passage of the Chenab.
On the 20th of November a thick cloud of dust on the
Lahore-road announced the approach of a coasider-
sble Shales force. The Chenab lay in front, and the
selection of a ford which would offer no formida-
bly obstacle to the passage of the detachment
became a matter of the first importance. The
sacrum or failure of the enterprise depended on the
Ileasthiloy of the ford chosen. Lord Gough was to
time his own movements from the hour on which the
detachment might be enabled to WON the river. The
sluartereosater-uenersl, whom business it was to make
the survey, was unable, from sickness, to make an
bepection in person. The duty was intrusted to
subordinates, who were prevented, by the nature of
the stream and the proximity of the enemy, from as
quiring a minute knowledge of the capabilities of the
Their report was expressed with mush deabt,
but the bias was in favour of the prableaMittp
of ituunet-Ilhan-liee-puttun. On tab espert
Lord Gough resolved to act, daisies* es it
was in detail. His lordship hal sabriarat
come to regret that this money WY 11114 made by the
highest authorities, and with use slaalearsa Bu
Joseph Thackwell was milessil tessmsilisd the Iwo
which was to effect the pow at the eelocts4 *fie
and march down apse the IQ latiebiemate.
Joseph suggested the dobatbaus of ineeelke
Wu:combed ford in thermal et the Int bsleg hied
Impracticable. No magla
were to aoserapasy the bra thelm=
Sosertkiskes formed ea bitswelleabb Km The ma-
Smogs (Webs beeps wee di tweet, a.m., ea Den
ayhiess
_bee two Is—

It will have been seen from the foregoing extracts
that the first opinions formed by the greater portion
of the press on Lord Gough's want of conduct in the
last Slab war, are confirmed by Major Thackwell's
testimony. The noisy plaudits of his lordship's friends
which were heard upon his return to England have
died away, and the still small voice of history again
condemns the costly and cruel recklessness of Chil-
hanwallah. The evil exposed in the subjoined para-
graph is, it is to be feared, too common to he
impaled to Lord (lough as a peculiar fault.

MAMMY *Olin FUR VALOtta.
In this pursuit (alter the battle of Go jerat) to full of
instruction to the army, innumerable Siete fell an easy
sacrifice to British vengeance. Some persons declared that
if the cavalry has bivonseked for the eight on their halting
ground, and been permitted to continue the pursuit early
the following morning, few Sikbs and no gun. could have
re-crossed the river Jhelum. Toe tedious journey to Pestia-
' war might thus have been averted, and much expenditure
eaved to the government. But whether this error of judg
meat was intentionally committed by his Excellency was
difficult to aaae,tain, they said. Whispers prevailed in cer-
tain quarter. that it was eagerly expected by certain high
individuals that the enemy would make another stand, and
thus considerably augment the harvest of laurels to be
reaped. It is a notorious fact that Lord Clough is the per-
sonal friend of Sir Walter Gilbert ; therelore, he naturally
telt a great anxiety to tarnish him with an opporttinil
of reaching a higher step than he had already attaineo.
. . . . . Now, as Bir J. Theckwell had estsblialted his
claim to this distinction (the Grand Cross of the Bath) by
gaining the victory of Suooolapore over Bane Bing and the
rebel army, it seamed only right that that excellent soldier,
Gdben, should be provided with a similar chance of &vile.
leg renowe.;
In the course of hie advice, Major Tbackwell has re-
peated occasion to reprehend the attempt to raise
native dragoon regiments. The only use derived
from the Light Cavalry of India by the East India
Company is the splendid patronage it presents. Ot
the irregular cavalry he speaks in the highest terms.
The natives cannot trust our sword in conflict with
the Sikh tulwar—a broader, heavier, sharper weapon
than the one called "a regulation sword," a thing
useful chit fly for saluting. The result of this want
of confidence in the light horseman's most needed
weapon is that the native dragoon is driven to depend
on his pistols, which are of no permanent use in close
quarters. The author would give the broad-backed
curved weapon of ladle to all the native horse.
One i xtract will conclude oar illustrations of this in-
structive book.

BIKE YODI OF PIOEITING.

In this action (Goojerst) as well aa at Chillianwallah, the
Sikhs caught hold of the bayonets of their assailants with
their left hands. and closing with their adversary dealt
furious sword blows with their right. Tile circumstance
slope will suffice to show the rue courage of the men. It
may be doubted by many thet one Sikh foot soldier repulse,:
three lancers at Coililanwallah, but such is stated to be the
tact. He received the thrust of the lance on hie shield end
rushing under cut at the lancer or snivered the lance into
atoms with his talwar. _

The propensity of the Sikhs to aim their blows at the back
of the bead, was so unequivocally manifested on the 22nd of
Navember, that it became an object of consideration to the
officers of the army to provide some defor.ca for the precious
rapid. Some officers wrapped rob of linen cloth round the
back of toe shako, tie folds of which hung down their
backs, affording some protection. The officers of the head
gusher's staff imitated the example of the commauder-in-
onief, who carried a heed phree made et leather partly re-
sembling • helmet, partly like a jockey cap. The leather
edge hangiog down behind from many of these fantastic
cops, gees them the appearance of those hats peculiar to the
fraternity of coalb . The cep was surmounted by a
white linen cover, forming • defence against the solar rays.

IP6I, cr the Adv.-Mares of Mr. and Mrs Sancibos and
Family, wAo came up to London to olio, themselves and
to see the Great L'.Shtbttton. By Benny lainTuaw.
Illustrated by George Uruinsbank. Bogue.

It would appear that the world has come to the
conclusion that every question, even the gravest, has
its comic aspect. 53 due y Smith recommended his
serious arguments with pleasant allusions to "cold
missionaries" lying upon the sideboard at a New
Zealand feast, with descriptions of charity children
on their way to church full of catechism and bread
and butter;" and with countless epigrams. He com-
bined the judicial faculty with the rare art of pro-
nouncing his judgment in the most pleasant and
attractive style. It is not often that a writer is found
who combines judgment with a keen wit and an ex-
quisite humour. Indeed, the abounding spirits, the
quick and subtle imagination which are generally the
characteristics of a witty and humourous writer,
would appear to argue at once the absence of that
even flood of reason which we generally take to be
the conduct of the judicial mind. Yet instances occur
where these faculties have been united in one man;
where the wisdom has given au edge to the wit, and
the wit has recommended the wisdom. The writer of
the adventures of Mr. Sandboys has heretofore put
forward claims to rank as a writer of judgment; he
now in these pages steps out to ask rank
also as a descriptive artist and a humorist.
He who recently came forward as a grave statist,
presents himself as the caricaturist of the Great
Exhibition. Some will have • difficulty in re-
ea:oiling the two characters; but with this
difiloulty we do not sow pretend to deal. Those wlio
remember Mr. Mayhew as one of the authoesot " The'
Greatest Plague of Life," will be fully prepared for
the first part of the work which he has just lamed.
The popularity of his former serial was due to its
decided originality, to its abundant humour, and to
its truth to life. It was full of fun, marred occa-
sionally by a coarseness of expression which, happily,
there is little trace of in the work before as. Here
and there his descriptions are too literal; a fault
which mars, in literature as in art, the most powerful
mastery of material—leaving nothing to the imagina-
tion; but, even with this drawback, Mr. Mayhew's pic-
tures are often admirable. Here is a description of
the village of Buttermere, the residence of his new
heroes :

A CIMIZAIAND TILLAOI.
Central between the waters, and nettling in its mountains,
UN the We valve of Butternierr, line a babe in its mother's
lap. Scarce half • doses house huddled together like
sheep for mutual shelter from the sans, make up the humble
mountain home. Oa sack side, is straggling order, perched
up in the hill-aide nooks, the other dwelling, group them-
Worn about it. la the maize stand, the unpretending village
lan. Behind it eftweek the rich, month, and velvety mea-
dows, spotted whined wattle, and looking doubly green and
soft and level, hem the lugged, !mown, and barren moan.
tabu Met rise &hemp upon thin. To stead in these S, Ids,
separating as they. ehe the twin waters, is, as it were. to plant
the foot epee the NM lake, end Nam to float upon some
verdant rift. Wit libe seek, frosting tba humble isu.stande
sideways the mug dart oral? than the milled cot-
tony. with Ma eye belli le y Wry trowalag its..gabla sae,
eni boom by the f Imamate that thews • 't the

. „
_ ______ __ __ _ ...__. wog a. ~ alma% ea.....__ _ ...ems throuriat
11;011164 time, liaviii Mn loseira tibeimiiiiith;itiee Mein. But it mad be , - got Is Si atiaili7l‘ legidlog pus -sob le, die bill so vitae loot it roots.
Illooropotost. As winnowed smis bays per Wile bk lognm)1 of as "on equerili Waif fa II" abase ii "IN has "ad' iliallsia:war" tki iwil. I
'sated this mistake, Mita en mom ot several occoiloss tot bin to meat the monsystaa steads tot Sr. coy with too Oleo, their roots root with
Sio=odillos toga um, ostilt=l dons of war. His brigade, as "Was lisages% the 4the of there 'seethe km% ta imr, dit sad
gas clutddndlitsg. witarart say to trAtit it,
_bat iffy tbs shade with all smart doom: Baas &Hafts etas the 1
d the divilikli Vas a you, stripy woo had to attodwel to it la Ow loodigrosol Is a gouda' espy brook width kudos tataitig mad the biWsr el

stone that intercept its souse stands the other end Mill mere
hamble ben. half clad in ivy, end hiding the blank arch
through which the mountain " beck," white with foam, comes
dashing round the torn.
Is the village rood, for reset there is none, not a creature
is to be aeon, save where a few brown or mottled "abort-
horns" strsg: le up from the meadows—now stopping to stare
vacantly about them, now capering purposeless with uplifted
tails, or butting fcaliceome at each other ; then marchuag to
the brook, end stane.ing knee-deep in the scurrying waters,
with their brown heads beat down to drink, end the rapid
current curling white around their lege, while others go
leaping through the stream, splashing the waters la transpa-
rent sheets about them. Not a fowl ts to be wen scratching
at the soil, nor duck waddling pompously towards the dream.
Not eves a 'troy dog crosses the roadway, nukes it be ou the
Bundsy, and this every peasant or farmer who amends the
road hoe his sharp-nosed, sham sheepdog following at his
heels, sad vying with his master at the eojoymens of their
mutual holiday. Here too, Giulia's, may bonen° some aged
dame, with large white cap, and bright red kerchief pinned
across her bosom, stooping to dip her pail into the brook;
while, over the bridge, just showing above the eopiogutone
appeals the grey coated farmer, with drab hat, and mounted
on his shaggy crown pony, on his way to the neighbouring
market. Here, too, the visitor may, sometimes, see the
tannen*wives:grouped outside one of the homestead gates—
witching their little lasers set forth on their five-mile
pilgrimage to school, their baskets filled with their week's
provisions hanging on their arms, and the hoods of their
blue-grey cloaks dancing as they skip playfully along,
thoughtless of the six day a' absence or mountain road before
them. At other times, some good-wile, or ruddy servant
girl, sallies briskly from the neighbouring farm, and dodges
'arose the road the truant pig that has dashed boldly from
the midden. Anon, climbing the mountain side, minters
some low-built empty cart, with whits horse, and grey-
coated carter, now, as it winds up the road, hidden by the
chuck, now disappearing is the circling of the path behind
the slope, then seen high above the little belfry, and hanging,
as it were, by the hill side, u the carter pauses to talk with
the pedlar, wno, half-out led in his pack, descends the moun-
tain on his way to the village. Than, again ascending,
goes the cart, higher and higher, till it reach the highest
platform, to vanish behind the mountain altogether from
the eight.

I for them months, every season, after Boater. Till then he
had his house full. He was, therefore, very glai to have
mom one who took all the trouble of writing letters sod
notes, ordering dinner, and paying the household bills for
him.

W►on Eliza grew up, Sir Roger was very fond of her.
She was no announce to him ; far she had tact enough to
see when s►e was in his war. And u she inherited his
love for horses sad dogs, he was charmed to have her with
him; and was delighted when he law her taking her own
horse to water, or curryoombing it herself. Oaa of the
stablemen was overheard whispering to another, " I say,
Jim, what a pity that 'ere gal @bold be a young lady,—quite
• heady groom is spoilt in her ! Miss would look well in a
joekercap and leathers." Young ladies are little aware to
what remarks they subject themselves, when they go out of
their own sphere of dodge. Sir Roger, who heard what
was said, had the extremely bad taste to feel flattered for
kis daughter, and actually gave the saucy lad half-a-crown
for his discrimination

The title of the work describes its outline. Mr.
Sandboys and his family, primitive natives of But-
termere, have a dread of Londoners, entertaining a
firm belief that beyond the mountains which encom-
pans their native village the world is peopled by
savages. This beltef determines Mr. Sandboys not to
go to London to eee the Great Exhibition with big
neighbours. The description of the departure of the
members of the Battermere Travelling Club for Lon-
don is clever.

Servants, dreams, religion, politics, novel-writing,
and children, come in for a share of notice, and same
of the touches are evidently from the life. As a
concluding specimen of the volumes we may take

DRUMM= OP THE TR&VILLINO CLUB.
Emig the next morning, Mn Bsudboye, with Jobby and
&ley, went down to ins Fah Inn, to see the &nen meta ann
cars lease, with the united villagers of Buttarmere, for the
"Travellers' Train" at Cdchermouth. There was the mat

wart Daniel Fleming, of the White Howe, mounted on his
horse' with Lis wile, her baby in her arms, and the children,
with the farm maid, in the cut—his two men trudging by
its side. There was John Clark, of Wilkinsyke, the farmer
and statesman, with his black-haired sons, Isaac and
Johnny, while Richard rode the piebald pony ; and Joseph
and his wife, with little Grecs, and their roey•ebeeked maid,
Susannah, from the Flan Inn, sat in thecae, kept at other times
for the accommodation of their visitor,. Alter them came Isaac
lf,wman, of the Croft, the ri.d-laced farmer-constable, with
his fine, tall, flaxen, Saxon family about him; and, follow-
ing in tits wake, his Roman-nosed nephew John, the host of
" The Victoria," with hie brisk, busting wife on his arm.
Then came handsome old John Lancaster, seventy years of
age, and as straight as the mountain larch, with his wife and
his sou, Andrew and Rthart, and their wives. And, fel
lowing these, John Branthwaite, el Bowtherbeck, the perish
clerk, with his wile and wife's mother; and Edward Nelson,
the sheep breeder, of Hateegartb, dressed in his well-known
suit of grey, with his buxom gude-wife, and her three buys
and her two girls by her side ; while the freelf-ooloured
bonnie lassie, her maid, Betty Clatesgasth, of Clatetguth, in
her bright green dress and pink ribbons, strutted along in
their wake. Then came the Riggs ; James Rigg, the miner,
of Scots Tuft, who had come over from his work at Chafer
for the special holiday ; and there ware his wife and young
boys, and Jaye Rasg, the widow, and her daughter May
Ann the grey-eyed beauty of Buttermere, in her jaunty
jacket-waited dress ; with her swarthy,black-whiskered,Cel-
tic brother, and his pleasant-faced Saxon wife carrying their
chuboy-theeked child; and behind them came Ann Rigg,
the slater's widow, from Craig-house, with her boys and
little girl ; and, leaning on their shoulders, the eighty-years-
old, white-haired Braithwaite Rigg and his venerable dame.;
and close upon them was seen old Rowley Lightfoot, his
wife, and eon John. Squire Jobeon's man walked beside
the car from tho Fob Inn, talking to the tidy, clean, old
housekeeper of Woodhouse; while the squire himself rode
in the rear, proud and happy as he marshalled the merry
little baud along ; fur, truth to say, it would hare been difficult
to find in any other part of England so much manliness and
so much rustic beauty centred is so smell a spot.

♦ NITERIRT ♦NZODOTI.

The little Pontera;l;;laOartWwhovras extremely ill-
tempered, but by far too expert in her avocations to be dis-
missed on that account. Her ways were various for tearing
them. She wood not glee them what they asked for till
there had been a regular storm about it ; and oat day, when
she was more pertinacious In her refusal then usual, one of
the little wonden said, " Nurse, what am Ito do more be-
' fore you give me that cake ? —I have both kicked and cried
' for it ?" The logic was perfect, and the cake was immedi•
ately given. One boy, when told to be patient, and take
example by Job, answered candidly, " I do know Job very
well. He was a nasty, disagreeable old man! I do not
' went to be the least like him.

&LIM from Italian Life. By L. Merlotti. Newby.
The compositions brought together in this volume
Ire perhaps as diverse in style and structure as ever
met under a common title. Two are strict soliloquies;
some are pictures of rural life or natural scenery, and
others are altogether of biographical interest. Above
this formal discrepancy there reigns, however, an
essential and remarkable unity. The work consists of
nine independent scenes, and, with one exception, all
are powerful and even terrific representations of the
gloomiest side of human experience. The mental
anguish, the paroxysm of despair of a young Italian,
who, imprisoned in Fort Diamente, at Genoa, com-
mits suicide from sheer despair of his country; the
frenzied recollections of a maniac, whose reason has
been unseated by the arts of the priesthood, who
have defrauded him of wife, family, and home; the
terrible loneliness of a sensitive priest, isolated in the
world with which he sympathises, and in a corner of
which be dies unknown ; are examples of the subjects
which Signor Mariotti has chosen to illustrate with
a vividness and pwer rarely to be found. This pen-
chant for the terrible has somewhat mastered the
writer's preferences for the real, and led him beyond
the bounds of the Italy or the life which he under-
took to pourtray. Unquiet spirits return to re-
animate the flesh in the stillness of night ; the dead
are recalled from sleep by strange arts, and impri-
soned souls moan from beneath the sod in these tales,
bat it needed not the German mottos prefixed by
Signor Merlotti to his sketches, to indicate the reading
which has suggested those supernatural horrors.
01 the political narratives, the first, that of Jacopo
Ruffini, is a masterpiece of bold delineation. The
story of Montoreno, a Byronic spirit, who by acci-
dent becomes a monk of St. Bernard, but, escaping at
the news of the Lombard insurrection, turns soldier,
and dies in the hour of the victory of Goito, is dis-
tinguished by great power. Between these dread
realities of individual experience, and the ghost
stories, stands the tale of Marcella. Its heroine is a
lively peasant girl, whose faith in the village tradi-
tions of ghosts and night-walkers has been shaken
by the conversation of a young student to whom she
is attached. One evening, in the midst of the village
throng, and while an old campaigner is relating the
manner, time, and place in which a ghost appeared to
him, Marcella avowed her scepticism, and when the
habitual reappearance of a buried robber was quoted
against her, she offered to go alone et midnight and
plant her spindle in his grave. The issue of this rash
undertaking is thus presented:

The doleful and solitary condition of the Sandboys,l
after the departure of their neighbours, breaks the
paternal determination at last, end the put concludes
with the intelligence that we shalt find the Sandboys

on their way to in the March number.
Mr. Cruickshank's drawing of " All the World
going to see the Great Exhibition of 1851," is one of
those masterly sketches in which he outstrips every
other modern illustrator. Its wondrous minuteness
is as astonishing as its general effect is artistic and
powerful.

their intangibility gives them over mere flesh and blood, but
must needs h►ve recourse to the ungenerous stratagem of as
assault from behind.

Sketches of Character. Br SAND KENNEDY. 2 vols.
West/run.
These slim, gilt-edged volumes might very justly
have been called 0 Sketches of Ladies by One of
Themselves," for the books are all about ladies young
and ladies old, ladies married and ladies single, whilst
the writer of all this is herself a lady relative of the
➢farquis of Ail's. Round about the bevy of females
there flutter., it is true, a number of the other sex,
but only as subordinates—strictly as subordinates.
Husbands seem to be admitted, because husbands are
some Low (might]. to a family picture drawn by a
female pen ; and then, how could the love-scenes be
got over without a young and handsome youth, or the'
marriages be brought about without bridegrooms?'
Still, some of the husbands are only taken for their
money, and others, when chosen for more tender mo
tisk s, are sent off to the Houses of Parliament, or some-
% here el,e, that their spouses may, in their absence,
meet and gossip and be happy in their own way.
Here is a picture of

There was something like uneasy trepidation es she
walked round the church-1 breathless supense till she
reached the lonely recess.
She came in sight at last. The ground was clear. With
• oonvulsive grasp she drew forth her spindle.
In that very emergency ► loud, rattliog, whizzing noise
resounded throufhout the church within. The crazy steeple
trembled, as if in labour. Marcella gasped for bre►th. It
was only the clock about to strike t►e half hour !
Marcella smiled bitterly. Her recovery from that panto
had something hysterically wild. It was a smile of exults_
don sad defiance. Her brave heart had won her t►e
vietory I
She stood before the solitary grave. The soil wee bare
around it. No rain of heaven had power to smooth, no
blade of grass was suffered to mantle the turf that weighed
on the malefactor's remains!
Marcella walked up to that forsaken mound, and laid her
hand on the cross. Anxious as she had hitherto been, she
could not help tarrying awhile as if to enjoy her triumph.
She turned all round, and took a deliberate survey of the
place. The back of the church and stvple, and a high
fencing wall enclosed it on all sides.
"The monk with two heads ! " she exclaimed, with a
sneer. "The white lady with blood streaming leeks! ha!
ha! ha! Young Valentino, in town, war right, aster all,
and the dead asset return
With this she stooped hastily down; she drove the spindle
deep into the ground, right at the foot of the red cross.
As she was rising to depart her dress was caught hold of
and dragged forcibly down.
She uttered • piercing shriek and suck down insensible.
Her cry was heard miles off. The maw beard it from
the casement of his bedroom, where he was making ready
fee his night's rest, and he crossed himself with pious horror.
He did not sleep at all that night, but all his lose and boding
apprehension could not inspire him with mirage to go forth
to the reset's,. - - -

On the morrow, at daybreak only, he summoned some of
the stoutest rue•.lte to his side. Spirits, it is a matter of faith
et Osinago, have no power ai auist numbers, no piwer by
daylight.
In a body they hastened to the burial-ground. They found
Marcella deep in her swoon, stiffened with cold, lying in •
heap on the spot desecrated by her foolhardiness.
She had run her spindle through the skirt ut her dress,
and pinned it down to the ground.
The next extract illustrates the numberless holds
which the confessional gives the priesthood upon
every part of society, even to placing the structure as
well as the direction of families in their power. The
speaker in the following soliloquy is a maniac,
rendered so by the spectacle which his fevered len.
page describes.

As she stood up, the eld churcb-clock tolled heavily the
Your. It was twelve o'clock—ghost-time all over the world.
Marcella stood up, as it that bell had tolled a signal ; she
stashed up to the door ; turned round, with a wicked smile, to
take her farewell of the notice, who looked at her with very
long faces. She panted the threshold, and her footsteps were
soon lost in the distance.
Outside, the night was bright and tomewhat frosty. The
moon bad not yet risen. All the stars twinkled in the firma-
ment, but there was that slight wintry haziness, which, with-
out obscuring them, seemed to remove their light and
influence millions of miles away from the earth. Not •
breath of wind was astir ; or rather,. none fanned the nut-
brown cheek of the Air', as she hurried breathlessly on, but
the loftiest summit of the bare poplar trees were seen to
quiver uneasily, and there was that faint moan in the air,
which betoken, • consmoti.n in the elements, far away in
V.' upper regions. The ground was white with hoar-frost,
and a few crisp, dry I cracked underneath her feet.
More than once, as the brambles from the hedges caught
hold of her trailing garment, did the st.rtled girl impa-
tiently anathematise her town-made petticoats, sod wish
herself clad in the less oumbrousjupon other simpler village''
friend,.
She wslked on with admirable steadiness, nevertheless.
She looked latently before her, without suffering any of the
innumerable, indefinable, Ineffable voices of the night to
divert her attention. A smile was on her lips; but it was a
dins, dismal smile ; an exaggeration of self-commend and
composure ; a putting on • bold fate upon what was, un-
queettoaably, a very hazardous game.
For, be it remembered, poor Marcella's scepticism was of
• very recent date. It was the result of petulant assurance
rather than well wrought conviction ; the cocfidence of pride,
not of considerate valour. All along that walk her spirit
was in • flutter of confiictinA emotions.
"The dead n return,' was was the easy doctrine of her
young collegian in town ; and we may say, the agreeable
manners of the instructor made up for the want of soundness
in his arguments. But "The dead live • life everluting,"
had been, from her childhood upwards, thundered from the
pulpit. " Soule are immortal and Oad omnipotent. In his

• roommate, WEDDING, AND WEDDED LINI, ponds
are the portals of the grave. Aad may tkey not yawn
Sir Roger Macfarlane was one of that old nos of fox•
It nits his eternal designs ?
butane (a race now, happily? all but refine.), of whom the and giee.°P their Prey' wk
And may it not be hie pleasure, now, to depart from the
Dean of St. Aleph, in his •' Faith aith and Practice of the Church course of nature's laws, to confound • rash girl's stubborn
or England," says, " The most useless animal in creation is
unbelief, and chastise her presumption ?"
• gentleman that does anything hut hunt." And as- With these harrowing thoughts to keep her ,
sternly the creature he bestrides fulfils the unties of exist- Marcella made the beet of her way to the churchyard.
eon better than does this heir of eternity. The church of Osinago was not more than three-quiz.
Sir Roger had no places of resort to his taste but stables or tars of a mile away from the farm-house. There was a
kennels,—no companions but grooms, horses, and dogs. As short cut across the home fields. This led to some extensive
he had • charming country house, and a good estate, he had ruins, mantled over by • thin shrubbery, and still thinner
been locked upon some years as a matrimonial epee. But lantation of near trees Tt• ,trip ofwoodland
even the ladies whoa* propensities were akin to his; bad P —• - ' ul meagre 'P
• alone obstructed the view of the church. Hard by the house
given up the hope of being installed u mistress of Bambury- of worship stood the solitary personage' and between the
hall, and he was almost forgotten, when the whole neigh. two edifices lay the Campo Santo, or S to, the cone-
bourhood was put into a ferment by the news that Sir Roger
Macfarlane was going to be married, on the 9th of Septent- crated ground where -
ber, to Lady Harlot Frenehborough. He had been passing The rude forefathers of the hamlet slept.
' a convivi4 evening with a brother fox hunter, and went The industry of the good pastors had long since encroached
into the drawing-room for coffee, with his head fuller of upon the lest resting place of the departed, and a good slice
port wine than of wit and Nesse, which indeed was habitual co the churchyard had been converted into • kitchen garden,
to him. He seated himself by the pretty, simpering, foolish fenced by a stone wall. Faithful to the honor the Italians
Lady Harlot Frenchbor,ugh. The company were talking everywhere evince for the relies of mortality, the rectors of
about fits days, smuts' days, and birthdays. Gangue had further intrenched themselves behind several
" What day is your birthday, my ,little maiden ?" asked rows of cypress and yew trees, which effectually sunned
Sir Roger abruptly of her flattering little ladyship, their windows from the melancholy view beneath, end in-
" The 9th of September." creased thus the gloom and desolation of the " city of the
" Bed•d ! that is irmethieg to be talked of for a week,— dead."
and so is mine; and what do you say to it, my_erretty little The church itself was a crazy old fabric. It dated from
asaidea,shaU we make a wedding-day of it ? How old will the time when the Benedictines constituted an industrious
you be 1" community, and took the management of their lands upon
" Twenty one." themselves. In those remote ages ens of their minor cow-
" 13eilad I that is something to be talked of for a week. I bison was eetabliahed here; and the wide strewn ruins on
shall be forty two—jest double your age. Come, my pretty one side of the churchyard bad owe been their cells and
little maiden, give as your whits little paw, and bark an cloisters. Some of their monumental stones, much damaged
assent to my !prepaid's. Bedad ! that will be something to by time, were still discernible ; and contrasted rather
be talked of fur a week." strangely with the rudely carved croons, red, white, and
Her ladyship did as ahe was bid. Sir Roger kissed the black, with which the poorer notice attempted to menthe
pretty little paw, as he called it; and, leaning back in his memory of their dead against oblivion.
chair, fell fast asleep, snored at his ease the rest of the Altogether the place was as weird and lonely u heart
evening, and awoke quite unconscious that he had saddled might desire ; and almost close to the steeple, behind the
himself with a wife. church, in a comer by itself, was the dreaded red cross, nader
Lady Harlot, however, was not unconscious of It. Her which the remains of the ill-fated Mien, the poacher, had
father called early the next morning upon Sir Roger, who, been devoutly deposited.
rather than be baulked of a long ride he projected, agreed to Marcella had lett the home-fields behind her ; she had
everything, and only begged all might be settled without threaded her way across the brushwood with which the
his ; and provided Lady Harlot did not tease him, by ex- ruins of the cloisters were overgrown. A broad ditch sepa-
pecting any species of lovomakisig, he would wet at the rated them from the churchyard, and a narrow plank was
chetah door on the 9th of September. Writing a dug!'" on thrown athenrt
kis beaker for a thousand pollen, he begged Lady Harlot A sold shiver ran through the veins as that frail bridge
would bay her own wedding neonate ; and, talus( up his swung and quivered beneath her weight. For one instant
gloves, bat, and whip, ha wicked my lord good morniog. she reeled right and left; but, by a brave effort, she rico-
Then, whistling for his dogs, he strode out of the room, and, vend her balsam and sprang in safety ashore.
as he shut the door, muttered, " Boded! that will be some. Here was the battle-field. She cast one look around.
tbiognhe talked of fora week." The grand was clear before her. The undulating turf,
TM tenspect was
1M very !gristly. Its top-boob and a heaving with lie ominous mounds, bristling with its hundred
haattef Pat the Inilivema appeared, on die 9th of Sep- Grasses, so carefully shut oat out all sides from human view.
teatime, at Mu Mara deer. As soon as the seremosy was Itarailla paused : she was alone with the dead. The de-
over, he asuated his Mae, and galloped about the seantry lay was involuntary. Her heart urged her onwards, but the
till dinner time. Lady Hartotleft the church with her father, limbs refused their oaks*.
and took Possession of her new abode quite as mush pleased Site fell on her knee. She muttered a requiems, one of
as if Sir Roger bad accompanied her. She made lame( them Letts rayon which to the ignorant Catholic convey
sequeinted with every pert of her future homes hem the sr woom=s, but to which, keel the very circumstance, he
garret to the cellar,—walked one *Very pale of the Wanda, ameba all the imputes's of a magic sped. She roes with
and over the park. She then west to dm** disnar. removal merest. She pressed her head on her heart and
.
Sir Rope Nally enjoyed the eight of die MINr ow*, bade kbe paste: Shs then tack the shortest walk moss the
little wow eappppooddse as Mm ; sad they Isom se through "Gees ease." sad reached the threshold of the dumb.
Life very smestkly wriabar. Neither at Wen had dem Übe bed as walk round It, her business being in the solitary
heart, nada SaltieEVAS, or ' Both meted their otraer =lliad the stespie.
degswids =Or susgeolee MlMm. Hers was dues. lie illis glared, is if stsaithily, aver km =solder. That the
gad hwalawls of pork open her toilette, and only limed =aid not help. The veseseue el. ber disarm was more
her sate girl eeeeeligie eMOar her frocks were baesseing aussrolitlog than the Mee of the meet terrific
or sabewst to ker. Iffelltoree never left Buabary-MS diem She felt a who eee9itleSrin fr vhe inhabitants of
ha a day; DM be &Wei Left HMS. te go up as town, a • =Ma world woalg isst fa whit tie advantage