The Sun.
London, England, 1852-10-29 00:00:00

-

THE SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EVENING,, OCTOBER 29, 1862.

COURT CIRCULAR.

PRINCESS'S THEATRE.

SPO.II7ING NOTES.

WINDSOR, OcT. 28.
The followint: hod the honour of diring with
Majesty yestorclay:—Tbe Prince r:nd Piincet.s of Do-
hemotie, L'i.:genbezg, the Priact,as Adel 4(ie and Prince
Terre no of Hobenlohe, the Earl of Maircesbury, and
the Viscount Hardinv.
Prince Albert, a:•corapanied by Prince lieratann of
wofit out hunting, tills afternoon, e.tt,..:ul.:d
by Lieut.-Colonel F. H. Seymour,
The Earl of Malmesbury left the Castle this morning
for London.

A five-act ple.y, by Mr. Westland Marston, bearing
the medsst title of " Anne Melee," rag produced at this
theetre last eight, a ilia most eigteel and deserved success.
The intrinsic merits of the drams are of the highest
order, and it is impossible to spunk in too favourz.ble
terms of the admirable (G.:jenny of the performers. A
play better celculeted to hold possession c the siege, land
one more deseevieg of being seen by all who entertain
any appreciation of dratiaie and histrionic exce!lence,
we cannot specify. It is not the mere production of a
play wrieht's ingenuity—popular for a season, and des-
tined, after fulfilling a brilliant transitory existence, to
quiet interment arid speedy oblivion, but a valuable addi-
tion to the storehouse of our dramatic literature, rife
with a sound vitality.
The plot is artistically and lucidly constructed and
evolved. The characters are distinctive, prominent, and
unexaggerated. Thu dialogue is nurvt.us, elegant, and
natural. We find no "purple paelies" stitched on, no
ear-tickling surplusage, but all griurme to the netter.
No tinsel or clap-trap, but a sterling end polished sub-
stantiality. " Anne Blake" is, we repeat it, the work of
a legitimate dramatist, not of a pretentious playnionger.
Five nets, and but seven characters—the uuities of time
and place preserved—and yet not a moment of tedium
or flagging of interest. Such, in brief; is this master-
piece of the contemporary stage.
The story, simple in its framework, and harmonious
in its details, may be narrated in a few words. The
action lies in the mansion of Sir Joshua Toppington,
the vulgar-mouled, ungentle, and sordid uncle of the
orphan girl, whose father died in poverty, and left her
dependent on the bounty of his coarse brother-in law,
and the heartless and wily Lady Toppington, Sir
Joshua's property is fully mortgaged to Mr. Lanniston,
a neighbouring gentleman of station and fortune, who
would gladly make the poor but spirited dependent his
wife, which, when discovered by the worthy couple,
they change their harsh demeanour towards her into a
semblance of the greatest affection. The noble-minded
Anne, who feels bitterly her situation, has, however,
given her affections and troth to Thorold, a wandering
artist, and stands firm to her faith At spite their instiga-
tions. Llaniston perseveres in his suit. 7 horold looks
confidently and calmly at the proceedings of his rival;
and, strange to say, the rivals are friends. At length,
however, Lady Toppington, by dint of wile, and
treacherous interpretation of motive, begins to insinuate
doubts in Anne's pure breast; and at length she finds
a golden opportunity—not less than Thorold alone, and
rapturously kissing the miniature of a beautiful woman.
An accidental summons causes him to leave the trinket
on the table—Lady Toppington eagerly secures it, nar-
rates to Anne the history of what she has seen, and
finishes by triumphantly exhibiting to her the cherished
picture of another. In the third act, some in.
geniously•contrived recitations of speeches—in a re•
hearsal for private theatricals, in which both lovers,
Anne, and her aunt, take part—are brought to
bear upon the situation of Thorold and his betrothed;
the latter of whom, after gradually surprising and then
agonizing her lover by her altered manner and cutting
words, tells him that he is free, almost at the moment
that news is brought that the poor artist is a distinguished
Indian officer of great wealth and consideration, and
Anne's guardian. Upon this the lady, with deeper and
deeper feeling, takes an oath before her aunt that the
poor dependent girl will never marry the rich betrayer,
and then promises her hand to Llaniston. The fourth
act contains the grand scene of the play, in the parting
interview of Thorold with Anne—when he gives her the
fatal miniature, with the terrible intimation that it is the I
portrait of her own mother, and in nobly written
language details the unbroken love of her father, who
died in India, for the wile from whom death, occasioned
by poverty and want, had parted him. In breathless
words poor Anne shrieks out her agony and her love for ,
7 humid; but the fatal vow interposes, and she falls fran-
tically on her knees, utterly prostrate and undone.
Anne had aiready refused for the second time,
Mr. Lanniston, and she only scruples to fulfill her
troth to 'Thyroid upon account of her oath—when the
sudden revealed fact, at the end of the play, that cer-
tain Indian mine shares held by her father, and after
wards by Thyroid fur the daughter's benefit, have
e toof htahrea o
finalter.
hap The
filth
be-
come worth treasures, so as to relieve her from her
own technical description of herself—as a poor dependent
madeen inthat
ou ernn
pinesa of the lovers, and the generous liberality of the
self-sacrificing Lanniston, who actually still makes over
to the bride what he had intended for her portion—the
mortgage of the Toppington property—and thus turns
rees
sot heirs devoted otetdhe to vow
whe d
hich'sinne Blake has risen. The sounds of the respectable former proprietors into the dependency
from w .
con-
gratulatory rejoicing are heard from ;the approaching
and the curtain falls on the happiness of the
lovers, and the discomfiture of the baffled Baronet and
his lady.
Level and Bourcicault have written plays, in which
the interest is centred in the characters originally sus-
tained, by Mr. and Al, s. Charles Kean, but even
in respect of the co-performance of these pre
eminent artists—to say nothing of 'Westland
Marstoe'a more exalted rank (as a dramatist—
commend us to the play under consideration. At the
conclusion of the fourth act the whole house rose at
them in an irresistible impulse of enthusiasm, and they
had to appear before the root-lights in obedience to the
universal and vehement demand. Were it but for this
portion
-alone, we say—Go see "Anne Blake." Mrs.
Kean's-personation of the heroine is a veritable triumph
of art. Nothing can exceed her exquisite delineation of
' the nature "ardent and galled by wrung, "of tee spiritee
' and loyal girl. The part is one requiring great acting,
ability to do it adequate justice ; and to what hands
could it so felicitously be committed as to those of our
most finished and delightful actress? Thorold is one of
those characters of serious comedy in which Mr. Kean is
incomparable, from his characteristic blending of expres
sive energy and accomplished ease. Mr. W alter Lacy
as Llaniston, looked and played in his usual gentlemanly
manner. Mr. Addison was admirable both in make up
and acting, as the detestable Sir Joshua, and we must give
an especial commendation to Mrs. Winstanloy, who makes
her appearance but too seldom, for her assumption of
the plotting traitress, Lady Toppington Jillot, the but-
ler of the household, a rare coxcomb in his way, was
capitally done by Mr. Chester, who drew the first of the
countless rounds of applause that abounded throughout
the play; and Lloyd, the housekeeper, was done as well
as possible by Mrs. Daly. Better acted on the whole
no play could by possibility be. The scenery is, it need
hardly be said, painted and set in the invariable first-rate
style of the Princess's Theatre.
The applause at the conclusion was unanimous and
cordial, and a general recall was awarded to the artists
en masse. A most genuine gratulation fell to the lot of
the author, as he appeared, pursuant to custom, in the
front of his box ; and he may indeed feel proud of his
noble contribution (and mark I original, not French-
stolen) to the stage, and, we must add, grateful to the
management for the pains, above all praise, bestowed on
its representation..

No. OCCXXXVII.

YIC3TEIIDNY'S RAGING AT NEWISARKET, &c.

OF the rams decided yesterday, only two--the Glas-
fh.OVV, and 50 Sovs Stab •-s—are worthy of comment.
Peet A ustraliip, in the race for the former, reversA the
Cnterion, running wit Spced the Plon,:h bun Filbert.
The Ic3t namcd cut out tho work to the bushes,. where
West Australian tcok up the running, and finished a
very easy winner by a couple of lengths. Speed the
Plough was a bad third, and the Putentia colt a very in-
ferior fourth. The running of the winner immediately
elevated him to thousands to sixty in the betting for the
Derby ; his chance for that race, however, I consider to
be but a so-and-so one.

A deputation from the Lccal Board of Health of
Dewsbury had an interview yesterday with the General
Boat d of Health, at their office, Whitehall, with respect
to the supply of water to the above-named district
The deputation (which were attended by the Engineer
to the Local Board, Mr. Ranger) consisted of Mr John
Tweedale (the Caairman of the Local Board), Mr.
Thomas Cook, Mr. James Howes, and Mr. Benjamin
Clay.
Mr. Henry Clive, M.P., had an interview with Mr.
Secretary Walpola yesterday at the Home aline.
General Campbell had an interview with Sir John
Pakiogron yesterday at the Colonial-office.
The Finance Committee of the Royal Commission for
the Exhibition of 1851 met at the Palace of West-
minster at four o'clock yesterday afternoon, Sir William
Cubist in the chair; Mr. T. F. Gibson, Sir Alexander
Spearman, and Mr. Bowring (Secretary), attended.
Dispatches from the Governor of Malta were re-
ceived yesterday at the Colonial-cffice.

The 50 Sovs. Stakes brought out Pharold at last. lie
has bean prepared for three stakes ; for the first he was
drawn ut the last moment for some unexplained reason,
or the second he was actually saddled and got come way
to the post, but arrived there too late to start : the third
time, however, things came (fl' more favouraoly, for in
his spin yesterday he not only touk the lead at starting,
hut made all the running, and won, with some seven or
eight pounds in hand, by a length. Nicotine heat Glen-
avon (the favourite at 6 to 5 against the field) by a
head, for second place. Cubnut was stalled off I
cannot imagine what the ring could have been dreaming
about, considering the reputation Pharold is held in at
Newmarket, when they laid 10 to 1 against his winning.
I fancy he will find his way into the Derby betting; and
I am confident he stands quite as much chance of taking
the great event next year as many of the present favour •
ices; by which, however, I do not mean to say that he
will win.

A Cabinet Council was held yesterday afternoon at
the Foreign-office. The Ministers present were—The
Earl of Derby, the Lord Chancellor, the Earl of Lons-
dale, the Marquis of Salisbury, Mr. Secretary Walpole,
the Earl of Malmesbury, Sir John Pakington, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Duke of Northum-
berland, the Right Hon. J. W. Henley, the Earl of
Hardwick°, the Right Hon. J. C. Berries, and Lord
John Manners. The Council sat three hours.
Wo hear that the address will be moved in the House
of Lords by the Marquis of Bath, and will be seconded
by the Earl of Donou4hmore.—Morning Herald.

All the Stakes to-morrow are at present skeletons.
The Matches, I have but little doubt, will be decided as
follow—Pelion, Bst 81b, will beat lonic, Bst 21b, T.Y.C.
Doublethong. Bst 81b, wilt dispose of Feramorz, Bst 61b,
A.F. The Knight of the Garter, Bst 71b, will beat Ilex,
7st 111 b, a mile and three-quarters. Miss Sarah, ally,
I think, will dispose of Ernestine; and a close race may
be expected between Caracara, Bst 71b, and Sackbut,
Bst 51b, D.M.— the former, not improbably, just obtain-
ing the beat of it.

THE SPIRIT OF THE TURF.

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

FUNERAL OF THE DUKE OF
WELLINGTON.

NEWMARKET HOUGHTON MEETING.

WEDNESDAY.

The authorities are making very slow progress with
the arrangements for the Duke's funeral. With the
exception of the interior of St. Nuns Cathedral, which
Messrs. Cubitt and Company are rapidly transforming
into a vast and magnificent amphitheatre, little has
been done, and it is a remarkable fact, that little is
known as yet as to what will really be done by those
appointed to carry out the operations. Whether the
remains of the Duke will remain under the roof of
Chelsea Hospital on the night preceding the funeral,
or whether they will be deposited in the Audience
Chamber of the Horse Guards, as originally arranged,
was not known :at a late Ihour last evening by the
present Duke himself. It can hardly, therefore, be
expected that the public should have accurate infor-
mation on the point. _ _ . .

The last race to-day, of which we barely had time to
send off the result, was one of the most disgraceful affairs
ever concocted. The Moor and Trinket had beea pur-
chased in the morning by a Mr. Mytton, and a Mr.
Hughes (of Worcester), the two names, beyond ell doubt,
representing one interest. At the commencement of the
betting 5 to 2 and 2 to 1 was laid on the Moor, and a
good deal of money got on Euphony, and against Trinket,
at about 3 to 1 each, the majority of the bets, it is strongly
uspected, having been made for Messrs. M. and H., and
parties connected with them. On its oozing out that the
Moor was not likely to have anything to do with the
race, he went out of the betting, and oven money, and 5
to 4 was laid on Euphony, Trinket closing at 2 to 1.
The Moor, instead of going to the post, galloped another
way; only Euphony and Trinket started, and the latter,
to the infinite horror of the plotters, won easily. Mad-
dened by his disappointment, Mr. Hughes rushed into
tnto the weighing stand, snatched the saddle cloth out
of Crouch's hand, and declared that he should not weigh.
The jockey, and the clerk of the scales, however, were
resolute—the former was weighed, end the latter kicked
Sir. H. out of the room. It was said after the race that
that the three horses were the property of Mr. S. Merry.
['his fe positively denied, and a written declaration to
tjhnatreeEtaercntinwgasin
room,
i,mthienctlhereksuobf stchrei pstei oanl e
sr,o omm.
r.
Manning, made a representation of the attempts to dis-
qualify Trinket to the stewards, who have ordered
.witnesses to be in attendance to•morrow at eleven o'clock

It seems to be a great pity that some definitive plan
is not at once determined on, and officially published.
The public have a right to expect information upon
a matter in which so deep an interest is felt through-
out the length and breadth of the land, and it is more-
over, desirable that the parties upon whom the carrying
nut of the arrangements devolves should have a more
clear and defined notice of their duties than they have
as yet received. _ _

The design for the funeral car upon which the body
will be conveyed to St. Paul's, was finally approved yes-
terday. This is a step in the right direction at any rate,
and the country will be glad to learn that it is proposed
to construct the car, not merely for the temporary pur-
pose, but rather as a national heir-loom to be handed
down to posterity, With this view it will be built in the
strongest possible manner, and of the most substantial
materials.

The design, which has emanated from the national
establishment at Marlb )rough house—the Department
of Practical Art—is described to be very appropriate and
magnificent. The stage or platform upon which the
superstructure is to be raised will be nearly 30 feet long,
and its width may be imagined, when it is stated that
there will be but one foot to spare on each side, as it
passes through Temple-bar. The upper portion will
present something of the appearance of a military tent,
and the stage will be decorated with massive ornaments
of solid bronze. It is understood that eight or ten horses
will be required to draw the car. One other feature
already settled is the trappings to be worn by these
animals. The period of the middle ages has been
selected to afford precedents for the occasion. The
horses will be enveloped in black velvet, touched with
silver from the shoulder to the hock, after the manner
of the chargers in the tournaments of the fifteenth cen-
tury. These caparisons aro now being prepared, and it
is understood they will be extremely magnificent.
Altogether, from the little known relative to the cere-
monial, it certainly promises to be a most imposing
spectacle.

The play was followed by " Sweethearts and Wives."
Wright's Billy Lackaday kept the audience in repeatec
peels of laughter, and the unique ditty of his disasters
was hilariously encored. Miss Carlotta Le Clercq looked
most charming as Laura, and played with delightful
spirit and expression. Mr. Addison as the gouty amo-
rous old admiral, and the other performers in their re
spective parts acquitted themselves very well.
The house was most fughinnably and fully attended.

BUL.WEB LyTTew ON KAYO TVLR.DGE

The following oration upTe Kee, ledge was delivered
by Sir Edward Baker Lytton, Bart., M.P., on Thurs-
day, the 21st inst., before a numerous end distinguished
audience, itooli the oceaision of a Literary Sob (re held at
the Town-hall at Het ttOrd:—
Sir ED7ARD in rising was received with homey and
lora coroinued cheerieg: when this had subsided he said
Ladies and Gentlemen,—When my worthy friend
the Mayor kindly aceampanied we through yonder ad-
joinieg room, and informed me that it was your Muni-
cipal Council; when I beheld on its table, amidst so
many objects of interest and art, the mace and charters
of your Corporation; when I called to mind that that
chamber was devoted to the practic 11 business of your
town, and saw it now filled for the purpose of embellish-
ing; our ordinary work-day existence with the charms of
literature, and the graceful h fluenees of art, I felt that
I the selection of our place ef meeting was a recognition of
this important truth; that no ebjem can snore worthily
engage the practical atten•iou of a cononuttoy of fe,
men— no purpose can more dignify the it council-tall
than the noble endeavour to cement the union between
political liberty and intellectual improvement. (Cheers.)
I am not going to inflict on you a long harangue on the
advantages of knowledge. those advantages are too oh
vious end the subject too hackniod. Indeed, I think it
is the fault of our age amongst men of all parties and all
sects, net to underrate the value of diffusing information
through the medium of popular libraries and institutes,
but rather to anticipate too exaggerated results from the
mere appetite for knowledge; forgetting that it is not
the eagerness of the appetite, but the soundness of the
digestion which conduces to health and vigour. (Hear,
hear.) And if I might presume to offer an admonitory
suggestion to those for whose benefit popular libraries
and institutes are chiefly designed, it would be to remind
them that knowledge is infinite, while all that the most
assiduous can acquire is so limited, that the true student
finds his humility increase in proportion as his informa-
tion expands. (Cheers.) Well, then, you go with me
thus far; go with me further still—when I add that if
there be anything which may occasion anxiety or appre-
hension to a sober judgment, in that demand for general
intellectual culture which makes the remarkable attri
bu e of our times; it is not the fear of knowledge itself,
but it is that pompous and inflated boast of our own au•
pi rior enlightenment, which is too often addressed to our
vanity by those who find is an easier and more popular
task to flatter us than to counsel. (clear, hear.) Know-
ledge and liberty are alike in this, and they, in them-
selves, are never formidable except to their enemies, but
that the nonsense which has been talked about them, is
often very alarming and very discouraging to their best
friends. Knowledge and liberty are designed to be the
safeguards and the directors of our social system—
(hear, hear)—yon approve that definition? Pardon then,
a very homely illustration. We do not fear the watch
dog while he guards the fold and directs the flock, but
we look at him with very great suspicion when we meet
him foaming at the mouth, and rattled out of his wits by
the noise of a tin canister tied to his tail. (Cheers and
laughter.) Look for instance to our neighbours the French
—for the last eighty years they have made such a clat-
ter about all the grand results to be expected from liberty
and enlightenment, that enlightenment and liberty have
been frightened away by the din (cheers), and men in
that country now seem rather disposed to get rid of the
watchdogs altogether, than to run the risk of having
them driven into madness by the hollow clang of that
everlasting canister. (Much laughter and applause). Let
us, then, take knowledge as our own great Newton took
it, with a profound conviction that we are humble mor-
tals, of the same size and stature as our ancestors, and if
we appear taller, it is because we climb upon their shoul-
ders. (Rear). Let ns gratefully heed every clue which
their resources have bequeathed to us, and let us
modestly confess that much which we now claim as
certainty, our children may detect as an error (hear).
You remember, perhaps, those beautiful words which
Newton uttered at the close of a life, illustrious for the
most splendid triumphs in the sublimeet sphere of phi-
losophy—" I feel (raid he) like a child by the seashore,
who has picked up a few stray shells anti curious peb-
bles on the sand, while the great ocean of Truth lay all
undiscovered around." And indeed Nets ton himself is
a striking example how finite a man is, and how infinite
knowledge, for Newton estimated the fixed stars at
3 000, stud when Dr. Herschell had completed his great
telescope, how many fixed stars do you think passed
across its field in one short qaarter of an hour ? Two
hundred and fifty thousand! (Hear, hear). It is the same
in all things. We of this generation cannot conjecture
the number of lights which the Creator may vouchsafe
to the next. (Hear, hear). Now from what I have said
in caution against presumption, and too overweening a
conceit in what we of to-day call knowledge, and what
they of to- morrow may call but partial ignorance,—do
not consider that I desire to damp your generous ardour,
or that I deny, I will not boldly say the advantages, but
the moral duty and the social wisdom of bringing within
the reach of all classes of our countrymen that world
of books which teaches us that there are other enjoy-
ments hesides those of the senses. (Applause). For if we
regard books in their offact upon the individual, the soul
can scarcely be said to feel its own diviner nature until
it is made aware how thought can exist independently
of the body. (Cheers). The moment we enter that world
of books the body rests, thought awakens. The soul can
then traverse swifter than light from pole to pole, bring
before it all the ages of the past, and unfettered by time
anti space, strengthen and develope the powers which
prove its own essence to bo immaterial and immortal
(Applause). And if we regard the utiact of ktiowle lawt
in a social point of view, why the wealth of a nation does
not depend upon the fertility of its soil, the treasures of
its mines, the extent of its dominions, but on the ag-
gregate of the intelligence possessed by its people. It is
intelligence that tills the soil, works the mine, directs
the ship, invents the machine, and suggests those laws
which unit, the harmony of order with the energies of
fro.-dorn. (Much cheering). And as the material
wealth of a nation is always greatest where wealth
is least hoarded by the few—so that capital of in-
telligence from which material wealth is produced,
expands in proportion to the width of the surface
over which it is diffused (Applause). It is, there-
fore, our duty as individuals, to afford, as fur we can, as
to every human soul facilities for its own developement;
and it is our interest, as a community, to increase and
circulate that fund of ideas from which even our physi-
cal comforts are derived, and by which this small island
of ours silently maintains an empire immeasurably more
vast than the mines of Peru could assure to the kings of
Spain, or their myriads of unlettered serfs can bestow
on the autocrats of Russia. (Loud cheers ) And it is
the oonsciousness how much the history of the human
mind is, in modern times, identified with the history of
England that induces mo earnestly to advise all those
who intend to profit by the facilities for instruction af-
forded by this town of Hertford, to make the history of
their own country a fundamental part of their studies.
History is, indeed, a study which well becomes the men
of our own times. For these times are embroiled by the
perpetual strife between ancient forms and novel ideas ;
sod history, calmly and impartially read, is the safest
arbiter between wise experiments and hazardous innova-
tions. (Applause.) We can scarcely judge soundly of
any of the questions upon which we are divided, by dry
maxims and positive assertions picked up from the jour-
nals of the day, and which would reduce the complicated
art of statesmanship to abstract propositions of Euclid.
It is only by a careful examination of the past that we
can estimate the influence of events on the destinies of
the future But of all history, that of our own coun-
try is obviously the most useful to Englishmen.
And I am happy to recommend to your notice a work
recently published, which comprises all that can give in-
terest and profit to a mere chronicle of events. I speak
of the Pictorial History of England, published by Mr.
Charles Knight. Have you got it in your library ?
I-Mr. Crawley: Yes.] Well, in this work you will find
chapters devoted in each groat era to the progressive
state of arts, literature, science, commerce, manners,
laws aid religion; and in short, all that completes the
recurs of British civilization. I should say that the
leaning of this history is to what is called the popular
side of the question, but all histories lean to one side or
the other, and this (at least as far as I have examined it)
is seldom grossly partial, and never wilfully distorts
facts or misquotes authorities in support of its views.
Still it is one-sided—and a manly understanding in
search of truth will not be contented to form its judgment
upon partial evidence. Therefore in the more disputable
political eras, I advise you to turn to the page of Hume,
and see what can be said by a philosophical reasoner on
the other side of the question; and even where you differ
from Hume most, and with most justice, you will be in
company with a writer who will increase and refine your
know a dge of your own language, by the charms of a
style perfectly matchless for nervous simplicity and lucid
precision. If the recommendation 1 thus adventure should
find favour in your eyes, I shall be very happy to offer a
pt a to such student, belonging to one of your literary
societies, who shall pass the best examination in some
selected period of our history, comprising views of the
progressive triumphs of those glorious forefathers,
whose legacies have been a literature more splendid
than that of Greece; an empire more colossal than
that of Rome ; and a political constitution which still
towers aloft in majestic se mmetry, because the depth of
its foundation has allowed for additions to its structure.
(" Bravo," and enthusiastic and long continued applause.)
I shall detain you no longer, for I do not consider that
we are met here to listen to long speeches, but rather to
mix with each other in social and friendly intercourae: to
forget for awhile the local contests that have lately
egitated both town and county, and to enjoyesittliiintegr:
ture what pelitics has not yet succ..eded indb
fraternity.
the polished commonwealth of equality
(Much cheering.) I must, however, conag_arlEtcualpattievaytoeuthoen
the various objects that please the
taste which you have got togetheFeanl opular
late you especially on the brightest a
.niumsatatcopngratu-
ornament of all, the presence oktasoan
est in whatever
aianyrladies. (Cheers.)
Indeed they do wisely to tja
itimste influence over our
tends to secure their own
ruder sex. Nothing more domesticates man—nothing
more endears the firesriedmeotuhnanotohothheaobritigsianndoftasiittetsraot.
literature. And if
ture in all countries, wewe must ascribe it to that sentiment
which woman inspires and refines ; for l
riteatrature has
withpoet, nd a g
ever commenced e German
o that the earliest poet must
writer has happily said, e
have been the earliest lover.(Cheers.) Gentlemen,
I shall now conclude by
reading to you the discrimi-
nating words by which Bacon has prefaced and enforced
the sentiment, which I have undertaken to convey.
The greatest error of all is the mistaking or misplacing
of the last or farthest end of knowledge, as if there
were sought in knowledge a couch whereupon to rest a
searching and restless spirit ; or a terrace for a wander-
ing and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair
prospect ; or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise
itself upon ; or a fort or commanding ground for strife
and contention, or a shop for profit or sale. And not
(mark the words that follow and define the true end of
knowledge, and as such 1 recommend it to you)—a rich
storehouse for the glory of the Creator and the relief of
men's estate." (Prulongued and enthusiastic cheering.)