The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1825-09-10 00:00:00

LITRR4RY GLIIANINGS.

No. XXVI.
LAST HOURS or Sea WALTZ* RALEIGH.—The
of the life of Sir Walter Raleigh was as extraordinary as
many parts of his varied history : the promptitude and
sprightliness of his genius, his carelessness of life, and the
equanimity of that !great spirit in quitting the world, can
only be paralleled by a few other heroes and sages :
Raleigh was both ! But it is not simply his dignified yet
active conduct on the scaffuld, nor his admirable speech on
that occasion, circumstances by which many great men are
judged, when their energies are excited for a moment to act
PO great a part, before the eyes of the world assembled at
their feet—it is na these only which claim our notice.
We may pause with admiration on the real grandeur of
Raleigh's character; not from a single circumstance, how-'•
ever great, but front a tissue of continued little incident.,
which occurred from the moment of his condemnation till
he laid his heed on the block. Raleigh was a man of such
mark, that he deeply engaged the attention of his contem-
poraries; and to this we owe the preservation of several
interesting Particulars of what he did and what he said,
which have entered into his but all has not been told
in the published narratives. Contemporary writers in
their letters have set down every fresh incident, and
eagerly caught up his sense, his wit, and, what is more
delightful, those marks of the natural cheerfulness of his
invariable presence of mind ; nor could these have arisen
from any affectation or parade, for we shall see that they
served him even in his last tender farewell to his lady, and
on many unpremeditated occasions.
Raleigh one morning was taken out of his bed, in a fit
of fever, and unexpectedly hurried, not to his trial, but to
!a sentence of death. The story is well known. Yet plead-
ing with " a voice grown weak by sickness, and an ague
he had at that instant on his)," he used every means to
avert his fate; he did. therefore, value the life he could
so easily part with. His judges there, at least, respected
their state criminal, and they addressed him in a far differ-
ent tone than he had fifteen years before listened to from
Co xe. YE I. xiiTO el, the Attorney-General, said,—" Sir
Walter Raleigh bath been as a star at which the world
have gazed ; but stars may fall ; nay, they must falls when
they trouble the sphere where they abide." And the Lord
Chief Justice noticed Raleigh's great work :—" I know
that you have been valiant and wise, and I doubt not but
you retain both these virtues, for now you shall have occa-
sion to use them. Your book is an admirable work ; I
would give you counsel, but I know you can apply unto
Yourself far better than lam able to give you." But the
Judge ended with saying, " execution is granted." It
was stifling Raleigh with roses; and it was listening to
fame from the voice of death.
He declared, that now being old, and in disgrace, and
" certain were he allowed to live, to go to it again, life
was wearisome to him, and all he entreated was to have
leave to speak freely at his farewell, to satisfy the world
that he was ever loyal to the King, and a true lover of the
commonwealth • for this lie would seal with his blood."
Raleigh, on his return to his prison, while some were
deploring his fate, observed, that " the world itself is
bat a larger visor:, out of which some are daily selected for
execution."

That last night of his existence was occupied by writing
what the letter-writer calls " a remetnbrancer to be left
with his lady," to acquaint the world with his sentiments,
should he be denied their delivery from the scaffold, as he
had been at the bar of the King a Bench. His lady visited
him that night, and amidst her tears acquainted him, that
she had obtained thefavour of disposirg of his body ; to which
he answered, smiling, " It is well, Bess, that thou mayst
dispose of that dead thou hadst not always the disposing
of when it was alive." At midnight he intreated her to
leave him. It must have been then that, with unshaken
fortitude, Raleigh sat down to compose those verses on his
death, which, being short, the most appropriate may be
repeated :
" Even such is Time, that takes on trust,
Our youth our joys, our all we have,
And pays tis but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave,
When we have wander'd all out ways,
Shuts up the story of our days !"
lie has added two other lines expressive of his trust in his
resurrection. Their authenticity is confirmed by the
writer of the prevent letter, as well as another writer, in-
closing " a dozen verses, which Sir Walter made the
night before his death, to take his farewell of poetry,
wherein ho bad bees $ scribbler mu hew his youth."
The enclosure is not now with the letter. Chamberlain,

the writer, was an intelligent man of the world, but not
imbued with any deep tincture of literature.
It is peculiar in the fate Raleigh, that baying before
suffered a long imprisonment with an expectation of a
public death, his mind had been accustomed to its contem-
plation, and had often dwelt on the event which was now
passing. The soul, in its sudden departure, and its future
state, is often the subject of his pots : that most original
one of The Farewell,
On soul! the body's guest,
Upon a thankless errand, die.
is attributed to Raleigh, though on uncertain evidence.
But another, entitled, " The Pilgrimage," has this beau-
tiful passage:—
" Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My st!rof truth to walk upon,
Illy scrip of Joy immortal diet ;
My bottle of salvation ;
My gown of glt,ry„ Hope's true gage ;
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage—
Whilst my soul, like a quiet Palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven."

Raleigh's cheerfulness was so remarkable, and his fear-
lesaness of death so marked, that the Dean of Westminster,
who attended him, at first wondering at the hero, repre-
hended the lightness of his manner; but Raleigh gave God
thanks that be had never feared death, for it was but an
opinion and an imagination; and as for the manner of
death, he had rather die so than of a burning fever ; and
that some might have made shows outwardly, but he felt
the joy within. The Dean says, that he made no more of
his death than if he had been to take a journey; " Not,"
said he, " but that I am a great sinner, for I have been a
soldier, a seaman, and a courtier." The writer of a ma-
nuscript letter tells us, that the Dean declared he died not
only religiously, but he found him to be a man as ready
and as able to give as to take instruction.
On the nioniing of his death he smoked, as usual, his
favourite tobacco, and when they brought him a cup of
excellent sack, being asked bow be liked it, Raleigh an-
swered, " As the fellow, that, drinking of St. Giles's bowl,
as he went to Tyburn, said, that was good drink if a
man might tarry by it.' " The day before, in passing
from IVestminster-hall to tht. Gate-house, his eye had
caught Sir Bunn Berman in the throng, and calling on
him, requested that he would see him die to-morrow. Sir
Moon, to secure himself a seat on the scaffold, had pm-
vided himself with a letter to the sheriff, which was not
read at the time, and Sir Walter found his friend thrust
by, lamenting that lie could not get there. " Farewell !"
exclaimed Raleigh, " I know not what shift yon will make,
but lam sure to have t place." In going from the prison
to the scaffold, among others who were pressing hard to
see him, one old man, whose head was bald, came very
forward, insomuch that Raleigh noticed him, and asked,
" whether he would have aught of him ?" The old man
answered, " Nothing but to see him, and to pray to God
for him." Raleigh replied, " I thank thee, good friend,
and I am sorr I have no better thing to return thee for
thy good will.' Observing his bald head, he continued,
" but take this night-cap which was a very rich wrought
one that he wore) for thou bast more need of it now
than I."

His dress, as was usual with him, was elegant, if not
rich. OLDYS describes it, but mention-4 that "he had a
wrought night-cap under Ids hat," which we have other-
wise disposed of; his ruff-band, a black wrought velvet
night-gown over a liair-coloured satin doublet, and a black
wrought waistcoat; black cut taffety breeches, and ash-
coloured silk stockings.
. _ .

He ascended the sCaffuld with the same cheerfulness he,
had passed to it ; and observing the Lords seated at a die-
tauce, some at windows, he requested they would approach
him, as he wished what he had to sal, they should all wit-
ness. This request was complied with by several. Ills
speech is well known ; but some copies contain matters not
in others. When he finished, he requested Lord Any N`be
that the King would not suffer any libels to defame him
after death—" And now I have a long journey to go, and
!must take my leave." "He embraced all the Lords and
other friends with such courtly compliments, as if he had
met them at some feast," says a letter-writer. Having,
taken off his gown, be called to the headsman to show him

the axe, which not being instantly don. he repented, "
prithee let me see it. DOB/ thou think dial lam afraid cf
it?" He passed the edge lightly over his finger, anti
smiling, observed to the Sheriff, " This is a sharp medi-
cine, but a sound cure for all diseases," and kissing it, laid,
it down. Another writer has, " This is that that will cure
all sorrows." After this he went to three several corners I
of the scaffold, and kneeling down, desired all the people to I
pray for him, and recited a long prayer to himself. When
be began to fit himself for the block, he first laid himself
doWn to try how the block fitted him ; after rising up, the
executioner kneeled down to esk his forgiveness, which
italeigh with an embrace did, but entreated him not to
strike till he gave a token by lifting up his haiul, " and than
fear not, hid strike home!" When he laid his head down
to reoeiVe the stroke, the executioner desired him to lay
his face towards the east. "It was no great matter which
way a man's head stood so the heart lay right." said Ra-
leigh: but these were not his last words. He was once
more to speak in this world with the same intrepidity as
he had lived in it—for, having lain some minutes on the
block in prayer, he gave the signal ; but the executioner,
either unmindful or in fear, failed to strike, and Raleigh,
after once or twice putting forth his ha ids, was compelled
to ask him, " Why dost thou. not strike? Strike, man !"
In two blows he was beheaded; but fram the first, his
body never shrunk from the spot by any discomposure of
his posture, which, like his mind, was immoveable,
In all the time lie was upon the scaffold, and before,
says one of the manuscript letter-writers, " there appeared
not the least alteration in him, either in his voice or coun-
tenance; but he seemed as free from all manner of appre-
hension as if he had been come thither rather to be
spectator than a sufferer ;—nay, the beholders seemed much
more sensible than did he, so that he hath purchased here
in the opinion of men such honour and reputation, as it.is
thought his greatest enemies are they that are racist sorrow-
ful for his death, which they see is like to turn so much to
his advantages"
The people were deeply affected at the eight, and so
much, that one laid, that we had not such another head
to cut off;" and another " wished the head and brains to
Ibe upon Secretary Naunton's shoulders.izen, and great " The observer,
suffered for this; he was a wealthy cit news-
monger, and one who haunted Paul's-walk. Complaint
was made, and the citizen summoned to the Privy Council.
He pleaded that he intended no disrespect to Mr. Secretary;
but only spake in reference to the old proverb, that " two
heads were better than one!" His excuse was allowed at
the moment ; but when afterwards called on for a contri-
bution to St. Paul's Cathedral, and having subscribed a
hundred pounds, the Secretary observed to him, that " two
are better than one, Mr.Wiemark !" either from fear or
charity the witty citizen doubled his subscription.
Thus died this glorious and gallant cavalier, of whom
°shone says, "his death was managed by him with so
high and religious a resolution, as if a Roman had acted a
Christian, or rather a Christian a Roman."—D'lsraeli,

TliE MAN OF Ross.—Mr. JOHN KYRI.E, commonly
known by the name of the Man of Ross, was a native of
that place, which is situated in the county of Hereford.
He died in the year 1724, at the age of ninety, and was
buried in the chancel of the church at Ross. He was a
bachelor, possessed of five hundred pounds a-year, of
which there is a tradition that he spent only fifty pounds:
for the support of himself. He distributed medicines to'
the poor gratis, and, when the advice of a physician was
necessary, he sent for one at his own expense. lie re-
deemed poor debtors from prison, and gave them small
sums to begin trade with. In almost all disputes he acted
as a mediator, and prevented the parties from going to law.
He bought all sorts of coarse cloth, which he canoed to be
made for the use of the poor, and distributed to them meat
and bread. So celebrated was he in his time for hie sin-
gular virtues, that Pore, whore voice was fame, cele-
brated him in the following poetical dialogue :
But all our praises why should Lords engross?
Rise, honest Muse! and stag THE MAN or Rossi
Plcas'd Vega echoes thro' her winding bounds,
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds.
Who hung with wood, yon mountain's sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow ?
Not to the skies in useless columns cost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain •
•
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
•
Whose causeway parts the vale whit shady rows ?
Whose seats the weary traveller repose?
Who taught that heav'mditected spire to rise?
" THE MAN or Ross," each lisping babe replies.
Behold the Market-place with poor o'erspread !
ilasilax or Ross divides the weekly bread.)
De feeds yod alms-house, neat, but void of auk,
Where age and want ad smiling at the gate;
llitn portion'd maids, &pounded orphans blest,
• The young who labour and the old who rest.
Is auy sick? Tut MAN OF Ross relieves, •
Preset ibes, attends, the med'cioe makes and gives.
Is there a variance ? Enter but his door,
Balk'd are the courts. and contest is no more.
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place,
And vile attorneys, now en useless race.
R. Thrice happy man ! enabled to pursue
What all so wish, but want the pnw'r to do !
Oh say, what sums that gett'eous band supply ?
What mines to swell that boundless charity ?
P: Of debts and taxes, wife and children dear,
This man possest—five hundred pounds a-year :
Blush, grandeur, blush! proud courts, withdraw your
blaze !
Ye little stars, hide your diminish'd rays.
H. And what ? no monument, inscription, stone ?
His race, his form, his name almost unknown ?
P. Who builds a church to God, and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name:
Go, 'search it there, where to be born and die,
Of rich and poor makes all the histcry
Enough that virtue fills the space between,
Prov'd by the ends of being to have been.

Dr. Jotinsox, however, with an air of sceptical shrewd-
ness, observes, that " this praise of Kvat.E, the MAN of
Ross, deserves particular examination, who, after a long
and pompous enumeration of his public works and private
charities, is said to have diffused all those blessings from !
Eve hundred a-year. Wonders are willingly told and wil- 1
lingly heard. The truth is, that KYULE was a man of
known integrity, and active benevolence, by whose solicita-
tion the wealthy were persuaded to pay contributions to
his charitable schemes. This influence he obtained by an 1,
example of liberality exerted to the utmost extent of his
power, and was thus enabled to give wore than he had.
This account Mr. Victor received from the minister of the
place, and I have preserved it, that the praise of a good
man being made snore credible, may be more solid. /star.
rations of romantic and impracticable virtue will be read
with wonder; but that which is unattainable is recom-
mended in vain: that good may be endeavoured, it must
be shown to be possible."
There is an old portrait, painted on a wooden panel,
over the fire-place in one of the parlours belonging to the
Ki No's ARMS INN, at Ross, known by the name of the,
MAN OP Ross's HOUSE. When or by whoni it wac!
painted, does not appear. Probably it was placed there:
when Mr. Kyrie resided at the above house.

The first Annual Meeting of the Chester Auxiliary So-
ciety for Promoting Christianity among the Jews was held
or. Tuesday evening, in the Town Hall. The flail was
filled with a respectable assembly, the greater part (as is
generally the case at Bible Meetings) were females, many
of them ladies of rank and consideration in the city and
county. The Earl of Rocksavage presided.
The bridge of iron rods thrown across the Rhone,
uniting Tourimn to Tain, was opened to the public on the
'23d of August. It was a day of rejoicing all over that
part of the country. The strength of it had been tried on
the evening previous. It has now been proved that on
fifteen months a bridge fit for every purpose may be built
across the Rhone for 200,000 francs (8,0001.), uniting
solidity with a lightness and beauty not to be imagined
without basing seen it.—ConstiletiortneL

SINGULAR ACCIDENT.—On Friday last on inquest
was held in Stamford raron, on the body of Stephen
Black, aged 29 years, who was run over by the Express
coach about twelve o'clock the preceding night, near to
Horn•lane toll bar, on the north road. It appeared that
the deceased lay in the centre of the turnpike-road when
the accident happened, having, it is supposed, fallen into
a fit as he was proceeding homewards. Ile was a labour-
ing man with a wife and two children, and his occupation
was that of digging atone fir the road in the pits near
Strctton. Verdict—" Accidental Death," with a nominal
&Wand. The deceased was well known by the name of
Ramsey, and it is remarkable that his father was killed on
near the same spot by a similar accident a few years ego.---
Lincoht Allercury.

A SIONDRRD YEARS AGO.

The following curious and correct sketch of the manner
of li4ing in London in 11Qt,, is given by a sensible writer
of the name of Als city, and is extracted from his " Jour-
ney through England," a work which has now become
very @carte :
" lam nudged in the street called Pall-mall, the ordi-
nary resitlenke of all strangers, because of its vicinity to
the .King's 'ilulace, the Park, the Parliament Home, the
theatres, and •the chocolate and coffee-house, where the
best company frequent. If you would know our manlier
of living, it is thus: we rise by nine, and these that fre-
quent great men's. levees find entertainment at them till
eleven, or, as in Holland, go to tea-tables. About twelve
the beau-monde assembles in several chocolate and coffee=
houses, the best of which are the Cocoa-tree and White's
chocolate-houses, St. James's, the Smyrna, and the British
cape-house, and all thee: so near one another, that in less
than an hour you see the company of them all. We are
carried to these place:: in chairs (or sedans), which are
here very cheap, a guinea a week, or a shillirg per hour,
and your chairmen serve you for porters to run on errands
is ;your gondoliers (wateeciesi) do at Venice.
If it be fine weather, we take a turn in the Park till
two, when we go to dinner; and if it be dirty, you ate en-
tatcained at picket or basset at White's, or you may talk
politics at the Smyrna and St. James's. I must not torget
to tell you that the parties have their different places,
eAere, however, a stranger is always well received ; but a
Wig will no more go to the Cocoa-tree or Ozind4s, than
a Tory will be seen at the coffee-house of St. James's.
" The Scots go generally to the British, and a mixture
of all sorts to the Smyrna. There arc other little coffee-
. :uses much frequented in this neighbourhood.
"At two we generally go to dinner: ordinaries are not
so common here as abroad P • yet the French have set up two
or three petty good ones, for the eonvehiency of foreigners,
Iv uffidk-street, where one is tolerably well served; but
,general way here is to' make a party at the coffee-
' house, to go dine at the tavern, where we sit till sir, that
we go to the, play; except you are invited to the taLle of
some great man, which strangers are always courted to,
anti nobly entertained.
" There are three very noble theatres here: thit for
Operas at the end of the Pall-mall, or Hay-market, is the
finest I ever. saw, and where we n:e entertained in Italian
music generally twice a-week : that for history, tragedy,
and comedy, is in Covent-garden (a Piazza I shall describe
to you in the sequel of this letter), and the third for the
sante, is by Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, at a small distance from
the other.
" The theatres hero differ from those abroad; in that
those at Venice, Paris, Brussels, Genoa, and other parts
you know, are composed of rows of small shut boxes,
three or four stories in a semi-circle, with a parterre
below ; whereas here the parterre, commanly called the
pit, contains the gentlemen on benches ; and on thefirst
story of boxes sit all the ladies of quality; in the second,
the citizens wives and daughters;, and in the third, the
common people and footmen ; so that between the acts ybu
are as much diverted by viewing the beauties of the au-
dience, as, while they act, with the subject of the play ;
and the whole is illuminated to the greatest advantage.
Whereas abroad, the stage being only illuminated; and
the lodge or boxes close, you lose the pleasure of seeinp
the company ; indeed the English have reason in this,
foi no nation in the world can show such an assembly of
shining beauties as here.
" The English affect more the Italian than the French
music ; and their own compositions are between the gra-
vity of the first, and the levity of the other. They have
had several great masters of their own ; Henry Purcel's
works in that kind are esteemed beyond Lully's every
where; and they have now a good many very eminent
masters: but the taste of the town being at this day all
Italian, it is a great discouragement to them.
" No nation represents history so raturally, so much to
the life, and so close to truth, as the English ; they have
most of the occurrences of their own history, and all those
of the Roman Empire, nobly acted. One Shakapeare, who
lived in the last century, laid down a masterly founda-
tion for this in his excellent plays: and the late Air. Ad-
' dison hath improved that taste by his admirable Cato,
which bath been translated into several languages, par-
ticularly into Italian blank verse, and is frequently acted
to Italy.
" Their comedies are designed to lash the growing fol-
lies in every age; and scarce a fool or a caxeoinb appears
ht town, but his folly is represented. And moat of their
same:liars, in imitation of Moliere, have taken that pro-
vince; in which Mr. Cibber, an extreme good player,
bath succeeded very well.

" They seldom 'degenerate into farce, as the Italians;
nor do they confine their tragedies to rhyme and whining,
as the French. Br short, it' you would see the greatest
actions of past ages performed over again, and the present
.follies of mankind exposed, you must come here.
" After the Play, the best company generally go to
Tom's and Will's coffee-houses, near adjoining, where
there is playing at picket, and the best of conversation till
midnight. Here you will see blue and green ribbons and,
stars sitting familiarly with private gentlemen, and talking-
with the same freedom, as if they bad left their quality
and tlef,r ees of distance at home: and a stranger tastes
with pleasure the universal liberty of speech of the Eng-
lish nation. Or, if you like rather the company of ladies,
there are assemblies at most people of quality's houses.
And in all the coffee-houses yin have not only the foreign
prints, but several English ones with the foreign occur-
rences, besides papers of morality and party disputes.
" My bills of exchange oblige me now and then to take
a turn to the Royal Exchange, in a hackney-coach, to meet
my merchant. These coaches are very necessary conveni-
etudes not to be met with any where abroad; for you know
that at Paris, Brussels, Rome, or Vienna, you must either
hire a coach by the day, or take it at least by the hour;
but here you have coaches at the corner of every street,
which for a shilling will carry you any where within a
reasonable distance; and for two, from one end of the City
to the other. There are eight hundred of them licensed by
Act of Parliament, and carry t heir number on their coaches ;
so that, if you should chance to leave any thing in a coach,
and know but the number of it, you know presently where
to lay your claim to it ; and be you ever so late at a friend's
house in any place of this great city, your friend, by taking
the number of the coach, secures your safety home.
"The Rover. Exert ANC r is the resort of all the trading
part of this city, foreign and domestic, from half an hour
after one, till near three in the afternoon ; but the better
sort generally meet in Exchange-alley a little before, at
three celebrated coffee-houses, called GA ItRAWAY'S, Ro-
BIN'S, and JONAT H A N'S. In the first, the people of qua-
lity who have business in the city, and the most consider-
able and wealthy citizens frequent. In the second, the
Foreign Banquiers, and often even Foreign Ministers.
And in the third, the buyers and sellers of stock.
" You will ace a fellow in shabby clothes selling ten or
twelve thousand pounds in stock, though perhaps he may
not be woith at the same time ten shillings, and with as
I much zeal as if he were a Director, which they call selling
a BEARSKIN ; and these men Sod bubbles enough to get
bread by it, as the others do by gaming ; and some few of
them manage it so, as to get pretty large estates.

" Near this Exchange are two very good French eating-
houses, the one at the sign of Pontack, a President of the
Parliament of Bordeaux, from whose name the best
French clarets are called so, and where you may bespeak
a dinner from four or lice shillings a-head to a guinea, or
what sum you please ; the other is Caveack's, where there
is a constant ordinary, as abroad, for all corners without
distinction, and at a very considerable price.
" I am told, that while wagers were allowed to he made
on taking of towts, and gaining of battles, during the last
war, this Exchimge-alley was the sharpest place in the
world ; but the almoe of intelligence, sham letters spread
upon the Exchange, and private letters coming before the
mails, made that practice so notorious, that the Queen and
Parliament wisely thought fit to put a stop to it by a sea-
sonable provisional Act against it, as they have endea-
voured to do by another Act against excessive gaming,
being both equally looked on as a cheat and imposition
upon the well-meaning subject. However, some great men
have not disdained to be deeply concerned in both, and
have got good estates : for tricking is not here reckoned so
despicable a quality as abroad, when it is cleanly done ;
therefore, try friend, when you come here, play not in
England, nor venture to lay wagers, except you know your
company very well, or are sure of your fact. The fatal
South Sea scheme, and the wicked execution of it, proves
what I foretold yini to be too true."

Was there ever
This is a question
being as he bids
his frame braced

beautiful Septemi
which there is

never, perhaps,
genial, that the

March dust was

and kindly bid
sluggard ; and
was speedily nui
the dripping stn
beams of May.

iner glory; ;iui
heat; August
auspices, the gri

pastures, whose , __mg _ the wear,
were prankcd in a second holyday suit of green. And now
we have September, chilly, indeed, as befits Ins character,
but in every thing else as kind and considerate as the best
of his predecessors. The leaf may be sear, but it has
not yet fallen, and nothing can exceed the appearance of
Nature even as seen in our northern clime. '1 he skirts
are still without a cloud—the streams limpid—the meadows
green—tile mornings healthful—the evenings beautiful
beyond description. Day closed sooner in the west; but
when the sun sinks behind the hill, and evening effaces the
last faint traces of the gorgeous throne.he had roused around
him, the " bonny lady moon" diffuses far and wide her
chastened radiance, And leaves us little cause to regret that
a greater luminary has retired from the scene. Under her
influence the patient husbandman can prolong his labours ;
and it is pleasant to hear at the hour of vespers the waits
rustling along the stubble field, or the swain, as he up.
heaves one by one the lusty sheaves to their appointed
place in the barn-yard, anticipating the joys of lespeerga
home. Now, therefore, is the time to travel—to trireme.
highland lochs and hills, or even districts that are only in-
teresting from their great fertility—to rejoice in the altered
circumstances and prospects of the poor. •
In feet, it is now universally admitted, that over the
whole southern (iirition of the kingdom, every kind of
grain is above an average, and though very few parcels
have been brought to market, not a doubt can exist that
it will both weigh and mill well. We have beard of
wheat that, even in the soft state, weighs fully sixty-one
'pounds, and, after it is fairly dried and hardened, the
average will probably be sixty-three. Smut, rust, and
blight, are althost totally unknown, and slate harvest could
be said to be at all general, the weather has been so un-
usually warm andelry,rhat a heated stack would be a per-
fect phenomenon. In rainy seasons much loss is occasioned,
and expense incurred, by the frequent opening up of the
sheaves, but one binding has sufficed this year ; And
though we bad trio stormy days in the middle of August,
the damage done by shaking was very inconsiderable.
Regarding prices, it is difficult to speak with any thing like
certainty; the farmers are too busy in the fields to pay
much attention to the barn-floor, and the shippers, who have
been resting on their oars for weeks past, will, in all-proba-
bility, continue tarn so for weeks to come. In London and
Liverpool, wheat has declined about 3d. and oats about Id.
the Winchester bushel ; but this was to be expected, and
though the fall should be much more considerable (and
there will be a greater fall at first) the farmer has no occa-
sion to feel alarmed, for reasons we stated not bang ago.
Fat stock keeps wonderfully up in price, and if we may
judge from our own and some other markets, the demand
for lean beasts is again reviving. Lambe have sold un-
commonly well ; wool, whether laid or unlaid, brings double
what it was worth in 182`-2, and, altogether, it would be
difficult to point out a period of out history that promised
better for the whole country.
In some parts of the country, the crops ripened so ra-
pidly that there was a lack of hands to cut them down. In
this way higher wages were obtained in inland districts
than in the immediate neighbourhood of considerable
towns; but still 2s. per day, with Id. or 2d. allowed for
milk, may be taken as the highest price given in Dumfries-
shire, and fnern what we have heard, the rate has not vie
tied greatly in most other parts of Scotland. From what-
ever reuse, far fewer Irish shearers appeared than usual,
and that not in one, but in many counties ; and this deser-
tion of our old visiters we are inclined to regard as a happy
omen for the people of Ireland.

~~
fi

... • , ,
. .
VIE PIINSENT! SEASON'. .
•
[From the Dumfries Courier.]
ever a season so favourable as the present ?
Ilion which quivers on the lip: of every human
ds his friend or neighbour good-day, and feels'
:ed by the invigorating influence of another
tembet morning—a question, moreover, to - I
is one, and only one, unvarying answer—
in the memory of mair. The Spring was so
c cleaning process suffeed no interruption ;
as a common commodity; the aced got a dry
.d ; weeds grew only in the garden of the
1 the b;tird, however, delicate at the fir.t, 2 •
ursed into strength and luxuriance, both by
bowers of April, and the alternate ;Jews and
June followed in all the radiance of his summa
Illy diffused a still greater portion of !alai
wept as well as smiled, and under her kind r •
;rain was not only completely tided, but the
le clothing seemed the worse for the wear,