The Sun.
London, England, 1855-12-28 00:00:00

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THE SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EvENINGDECEMBER 28, 1855,

LINES LEASED %T FIXED RENTAL.

lout of his way to get to the top of this wood-stack ; and
that he would stay there for hours and hours, crowing,
until he appeared in danger of splitting himself. Five
weeks wont on—six weeks —and still this terrible bantam,
neglecting his domestic affairs, was always on the top of
the wood-stack, crowing the very eyes out of his head. By
this time it was perceived that Louis had become inspired
with a violent animosity towards the terrible bantam, and
one morning he was seen by a woman who sat nursing her
goitre at a little window in a gleam of sun, to catch up a
rough billet of svood, with a great oath, hurl it at the terrible
Bantam crowing on the wood-stack, and bring him down
dead. Hereupon, the woman, with a sadden light in her
mind, stole round to the back of the wood-stack, and being
a good climber, as all those women aro, climbed up, and
soon was seen upon the summit, screaming, looking down
the hollow within, and crying, Seize Louis the murderer !
Ring the church bell ! Here is the body!' I saw the mur-
derer that day, and I saw him as I sat by my fire at the
Holy-Tree Inn, and I see him now, lying shackled with
cords ou the stable litter, among the mild eyes and the
smoking breath of the cows, waiting to be taken away by
the police, and stared at by the fearful village. A heavy
animal—the dullest animal in the stables—with a stupid
head, and a lumpish face devoid of trace of sensibility,
who had been, within the knowledge of the murdered
youth, an embezzler of certain small moneys belonging to
his master, and who had taken this hopeful mode of put-
ting a possible accuser out of his way. All of which he
confessed next day, like a sulky wretch who couldn't be
troubled any more, now that they had got hold of him
and meant to make an end of him. I saw him once
again, on the day of my departure from the inn. In
that Canton the headsman still does his odic° with
a sword ; and I came upon this murderer sitting bound to
a chair, with kis eyes bandaged, on a scaffold in a little
market-place. In that instant, a great sword (loaded with
quicksilver in the thick part of the blade) swept round him
like a gust of wind, or fire, and there was no such crea-
ture in the world. My wonder was—not that he was so
suddenly despatched, but that any head was left unreaped,
within a radius of 50 yards of that tremendous sickle."

Charles Dickens, again, and no one but Charles
Dickens could ever have conceived, or, having
conceived, could ever have written that ex-
quisite little story told by " The Boots," the
story of a young gentleman of eight years
old, who, upon a famous Christmas, long ago,
ran away with a fine young woman of seven !
A story of child-love, as daintily beautiful as
it is from first to last, deliciously humorous
Such a tale as it is ! Blessings on the kindly,
genial, loving imagination from which it emanated!
Blessings on the warm, humane, generous, cordial
hand by which its every syllable was penned !
The whole cluster of winter stories here grouped
together under the title of the "Holly Tree Inn,"
conies to us as welcome, indeed, as the saying is,
as flowers at Christmas—as seasonably grateful to
the appetite as plum-pudding or mince-pies, as
provocative of fun and frolic as a dish of snap-
dragon, or a bunch of mistletoe. And yet
there are tales in this same Christmas number of
" Household Words" so wierd-like, and ghastly,
and immittigably horrible as to be sufficient alto-
gether to make "each individual hair" upon the
hearer's sconce "to stand on end, like quills
upon the fretful porcupine !" Ugh the mere
thought of that ugly story of " The Ostler," or of
that other horrid one about " The Poor Pensioner"
—shudders the reader's skin into gooseflesh ! So—
we close the number, trying to remember only
" The Boots" and " The Guest," and thinking
gratefully as we do so of th• genial and perfectly
congenial names of Charles Dickens and Christmas
Day !

A New llistory of England. By G. S. Poulton.
Freeman.

The chief feature in this work worthy of notice
is it conciseness. It traces the history of England
from the Britons to the war in the Crimea in one
volume of 768 pages, in clear type. Of course it
is evident from this that it can be only an outline
of our eventful history, and as such it is intended.
The author asserts in the preface that it is entirely
for the benefit of those who have little time or op-
portunity foracquiring historical knowledge, and not
for students or those who are possessed of the taste
and means for extensive reading. It would be admi-
rably adapted for this purpose but for one draw-
back. It is the wait of that impartiality and
moderation which are the first requisites in a work
intended to convey information to those who are
unable, from a limited education or ability, to
fathom its prejudices or withstand its impression.
As an instance of this want of tolerance we may
quote a sentence from the first chapter :—" Some
youthful readers may wonder why this monster of
iniquity—the Papal system—is called The Church
of Rome,' and why the monster's head is called
the Pope."' Surely this is beneath the dignity of
an historian, as well as scarcely in accordance with
that doctrine of universal charity which the Chris-
tian religion inculcates. However devoted the
writer may be to our own national church, let him
not, as Mr. Macaulay finely observes, "fight the
battles of truth with the weapons of error," and,
among these, calumny and intolerance must ever
be numbered. With this exception, however, the
work has many merits. It is written iu a clear and
simple style, and contri►es to give all the impor-
tant events of English history in the compass we
hare mentioned. It possesses another recommen-
dation to those who desire to extend their know-
ledge with little loss of time. It brings down the
history to the present day, thereby narrating all
the important political events of late years. It
may also claim some consideration as a work of
reference, for which purpose it will be found very
suitable.

Manual of British Rural Sports. By Stonehenge.

Routleage.

This work forms a complete compendium of in-
structions for every species of rural sport and exer-
cise. The author should be well qualified to direct,
for he tells us, in the preface, that for the last
twenty years it has been the amusement of his
leisure hours to master the arcana of the several
sports peculiar to Great Britain; and, as in many of
them he met with great difficulties, owing to the
want of treatises sufficiently minute and explana-
tory, this obstacle he has sought to remove from
the way of others by the present volume. He
gives full and particular directions and descriptions
of shooting, hunting, coursing, fishing, hawking,
racing, boating, and pedestrianism, Etc. Ho also
gives ample instructions for the management of
horses and dogs, their training, doctoring, &c.
Besides this more scientific portion, there are chap-
ters on less ambitious pursuits—cricket, archery,
quoits, &c. The writer takes a superior view
of field sports and exercises, remarking how
universal the love for them has been from the
earliest ages, and how much devoted to it the
inhabitants of Groat Britain have always been.
He regards them as a valuable auxiliary for deve-
loping the courage, daring, and endurance that
our soldiers have so often displayed, as well as
affording an essential relief to the frames of those
engrossed by sedentary occupations. He regrets—
as all true lovers of sport must do—that so much
that is degrading and deteriorating is so often
mixed up with its pursuit, but hopes that a rapid
improvement may be effected in this respect. In
accordance with those opinions he has omitted
pugilism, bull baiting, and similar pursuits, as
contrary to the law as well as unworthy of a true
]over of honest English sport.