The Sun.
London, England, 1852-09-23 00:00:00

First Heat.

The Tyne (Newcastle-upon-Tyne) ..• ••• 1
R. Clasper, T. Clasper, W. Clasper, H. Clasper
(stroke). J. Richardson (coxswain).
The Princess (Manchester) ... . . ... 2
J. Woodhall, J. Williams, S. Butler, J. Carroll
(stroke). K. Maloney (coxswain).
The Deva (Chester) ... 3
W. Rurkhill, J. Williams, J. Shone, T. Jones
(stroke). J. Jones (coxswain).
The Tyno started off with the lead, which she gal-
lantly maintained throughout the race, and won very
easily by several lengths. The pulling of the Claspers
was justly admired for its steadiness and style.
Second Heat.

The Five Brothers (Newcastle) 1
W. Taylor, T. Taylor, J. Taylor, M. Taylor
(stroke) J. Taylor (coxswain).
Tho Lady Wynn (Cheater) ... ... 2
G. Woodins. C. Sconce, T. Buckley. T. Goodrum,
(stroke), J. Williams, (coxswain).
The Pilot (Manchester) ... 3
S. M'Cormick, T. M'Cormick, 11. Ault, S.
Wood, (stroks), T. Bracken (coxswain).
Deciding Heat.

The Tyno .<•.
The Five Brothers ...

... 1
••• •••
••• ••• ••• 2

A beautiful start was effected by Mr. W. Dixon, the
Claspers having the inside. The Brothers Taylors
took the lead at a slashing pace, the Claspers waiting
in close company. After going in this order about a
mile the Claspers crept up to their opponents, and by
dint of great exertion succeeded in heading them. This
position they maintained the rest of the distance, win-
ning in a very excellent and well-contested race by a
length and a half.
The Ladies' Purse of 31. for fishermen's pair-oared
boats, to be rowed by women. If three start, second to
receive 103. Won by the Cardinal.
Several minor races viers also decided.

TROTTING RACES.--A number of trotting races
took place on Tuesday, over the Liverpool course, at Aintree.
The first, a sweepstakes of 5 sous. with 20 soya., was com-
peted for by two horses. Little Pet got the first heat, and
the second was won by Sir William, who the third time
walked over the course. The most interesting event of the
day, however, was a match for 200 sous., between the cele-
brated Jackey and the maze Bess, to trot ten miles. 8,.."8
took and kept the lead for the first eight miles, when Jacket'
passed her, but was aga-in re-passed. When about eight.,,,
miles and a half had been run, Jackey again took the lead,
was never headed, and aft r a beautiful drive, won bY,lrn by
distance. A second sweep takes, of less amount, '''
Little Pet, beating Wild ]deco and another;
the sports of the day, :1 match for 50 sous. b
to trot two
Lupton's chestnut pony, E d Mr. Crosby's in . pony' and was
between
closed
miles, being withdrawn b '7 mutual consent.
SUDDEN DEATII A!C A
n
Fu
MEETING.---,lr•
blonday evening at
Holladay, whilst attendin .r; a meeting
uclonly expired. The
Oldham, in the Working ,
meeting was called in ord to his sudden attack,
J. Fox. About ten minus:. es p
-revi°tuhe audience. He seemed
3Erattio'sp-rboamilo'stice the return of
Mr. Holladay had been ad: dressing
very energetic and peculiit rly
their minds and strive
.to
tl Ovate
ficitous in his remarks in ex-
horting young men to ci
satinks of a anewpson on the short
elevate themselves. He ha d down, was listening with
apparent pleasure to the
r4ivalwas resting on the arm of the
time question. His
his
Several
elrls iosns handrus fell,hed
tand his
chair, his head resting on: ):1
head reclined to one
sup-
port him, medical aid was sent for. Mr.
he was rseimdej ed to near a window, the room
being intolerably hot,. and
e,
d but pronounced the unfortunate
Halkyard shortly °
gentleman dead. ----
narrelhad ' been seized with t 1 fit Of apoplexy.
—Manchester Aral/4"r'

SPIRIT of the PUBLIC JOURNALS.
FROM THE MORNING PAPERS OF THIS DAY.
TIMES.—It is a great satisfaction to learn from
Lord Derby's letter to the Home Secretary that the
British people and their Sovereign are entirely agreed
as to the duties imposed upon them by the lost they
have just suffered. There is not a point on which the
Queen has not anticipated or responded to the uni-
versal feeling. Her Majesty desires that the " tribute
of gratitude and sorrow," which it now devolves on
the nation to pay, " should be deprived of nothing
which could invest it with a thoroughly national
character ;" she desires that the two Houses of Par-
liament shod have their share in the solemn act ;
and " that the mortal remains of the late illustrious
and venerated Commander-in-Chief should, at the
public expense, and with all the solemnity due to the
greatness of the occasion, be deposited in the Cathe-
dral Church of St. Paul, there to rest by the side of
the greatest naval chief who ever reflected lustre
on the annals of England." When to these an-
nouncements we have added that Lord lierdinge is
to be Commander-in-Chief, the public will feel that
I so for the conclusions arrived at in Belmorel Castle
are very much the same us those we have come
to in this metropolis, at a distance of 500 miles.
The only point on which the Minister or the Court
may seem at first sight to have somewhat outstripped
the anticipations of the public, is the desire that the
honours to be paid to the memory of the Great Duke
" should not appear to emanate from the Crown alone,
and the two Houses of Parliament should have an op-
portunity, by their previous sanction, of stamping the
proposed ceremony with increased solemnity."
Cer-
tainly the public, running possibly rather too much
on the precedent of Nelsons funeral, was prepared to
of the
leave the authorization and arrangement of the ap-
proachingceremony to the Crown, and, we may
almost say, hardly dreamt of requiring the sanction
entirely
one Legislature. As it happens, we have all as-
signedimnarted
session,particudlar office to Parliament at the No-
vember have
the unity our anticipations.
to the an
proceedings of that month has, with-
out our being
Legislature from
quite rational, or even consistent
of it, restricted the
11,a,02; other duty. On re-considera-
tion, perhaps, it
appear that the public was not
indeed
dnsistent on this point. Every-
body desired, and took for granted, that both
would
Houses of Parliament
took on
sattend the funeral. Every-
body also was aware of some
that before the ]1 th of November,
difficulty, in the fact
rilowe believe, there
will be no Parliament at all—no
uses. or Members
numb with
e
_
of Houses, but simply a number of noblemen
of a certain dormant privilege, and a
1,
repre-
sentatives elect. F however, ew, if anybody,
themselves to say, in the absence of the
her principal adviser, how this difficulty evaesen to and
surmounted; how the funeral was to be attended byb
both Houses, when there was no House at all; and
whether, supposing all objections to be waived, it
would suit the convenience of 300 noblemen and 65G
commoners to be called up from the country a fort-
night, perhaps, before the meeting of Parliament.
Candour compels us to say that really we do not see
how the difficulty is to be got over, except by defer-
ring the funeral till after the meeting of Parliament,
and the most graceful and natural pretence for that
arrangement would be the evident propriety of re-
ferring the ceremony itself to the sanction of the
Legislature. So long a delay, though by no means at
variance with the national feeling on this occasion, will
certainly have its inconveniences. We are not ac-
accustomed to let things fully decided on, especially
if they are of a solemn and painful character, hang
over unnecessarily long. It is evident, too, that the
funeral must now take place in the short days about
the end of November, if not still later, and with the
chances of the weather more against us every day.
There is then the still greater difficulty, the uncom-
fortable clashing of the two duties which, as it appears,
now devolve on the November session. A whole
week will be consumed in swearing in members; then
comes the address from the Throne, in which her
Majesty will doubtless repeat the substance of the
communication :which appears in our columns this
morning. What is to follow ? Is all political debate to
be suspended till after the funeral, which may possibly
be delayed tor two or three weeks ? Though the
greater part of the preparations will, of course, be got
over before the meeting of Parliament, a certain amount
of them, we suppose, will be deferred till they can
have the sanction of the Legislature, which will thus
entail further loss of time. Previous to this event
it was certainly quite competent to the Liberal
party to try conclusions with Lord Derby on the
first night of the session • and those conclusions are
far too important to be endangered for the gratifica-
tion of a sentiment, however noble in its nature, how-
ever deeply felt. The event has come under the
Derby Administration, and, whatever eclat may at-
tend the funeral, they are welcome to it. If, too, they
give Parliament the opportunity of complete co-ope-
ration, Parliament cannot quarrel about that. But
we trust there exists no design of extracting a party
profit from a national calamity. We trust that Lord
Derby has no scheme for improving the occasion to
spin out his tenure, to get another respite, and,
perhaps, another chance. Everything ought to be
quite clear on this point. An early day ought to be
taken by the common consent of parties for the great
constitutional question,—Who are to govern us ?
And, if an early opportunity is not given, or likely to
he given, then we must say that the Liberal party in
the Commons will be perfectly justified in dividing
the House when and upon what question they think
proper, even before the solemn ceremony impending;
and that the responsibility of the act will fall on the
Government which made it unavoidable.
HERALD.—It is the desire of the highest autho-
rity of the realm, as our readers are now aware, that
the mortal remains of the late illustrious Commander-
in-Chief should rest by the side of Nelson, in the
cathedral church of St. Paul's. But, in order to give
a greater sanction to this wish, and to afford the
nation an opportunity of paying its solemn tribute of
love and veneration to its great hero, her Majesty
will wait for the assembling of the two Houses of
Parliament, and receive from them, as the representa-
tives of the nation, the formal approval of the course
to be adopted on this great and solemn occasion. Till
then all that remains of him whom kings as well as
people delighted to honour will continue at Weimer,
guarded with such a tribute of respect as befits the
ashes of a man at once so noble and so much beloved.
In thus expressing, through the Prime Minister of
the Crown, her grief for him, once the greatest of her
subjects, and her resolve to show the sense which she
placed upon his worth, her Majesty does no more than
echo the voice of the whole nation. In her desire not to
reward such worth—for that all feel can never be, but to
recognise it in the most ample and the most solemn man-
ner, her Majesty's wish finds a response in the bosom of all
her subjects, in the meanest as much as in the highest.
She has touched a chord which vibrates in the heart
of every Englishman ; and whilst the language of an
official communication rises almost into the grief and
the expression of personal sorrow and regret—whilst
words find their way into the important manifesto
(published yesterday and republished to-day in our
columns) indicative of the deepest affliction, strangely
at variance with the general tenor of such documents,
we recognise the same feeling which pervades the
nation at large. We mourn the Duke of Wellington
a hundred fights.
,
but we mourn him not so much as a great man or a
great soldier; we mourn him not so much as the
hero of Waterloo, or the victor of
The nation thinks not of its triumphs, nor of the
glory eternally associated with its name
means who now is gone ; but mourns 'by his
lost son. The uppermost feeling
in the as
himheart-si ofa
most men, at this moment, we
affirm, is rather that of affliction,or such as they
feel or a departed relative will venture
mightto
friendor
of one who has left a place that
of an old familiar face whom acadneanreverse •,,, _ _
they can hardlyb Issurpc2
plied ; of one, in short, who has become
all our plans and all our des' e whs. -
will the
Duke say ?"—it Ha the Duke
gns. se—will be
s the Duke spoken at
heard no more. The vst
'll not watch
stranger
Apsley-house for that face which has
a glimpse of
with the re-
membrance of rejoicings for a
grown up with his earliest associations,
associated with
peace,and the
ctory . The
triumph and celebration of a great
ovfi
Lords for a
Londoner will not watch at the Hitjaesteic countenance
sight of that marked
andeseeeeif too often. The
which he felt could never be
rized reward—the living
great
soldier has lost
his
silenced envy whence it once was
word of him
e kindness mourn their benefactor;
uttered. Thousands etweho have received more sub-
stantialuke was as a public man, much as
and great as
-lii his
in the pardonable feeling that, as
we might
me n his unpretending features, we beheld
our nationianldtpriide was wrapped up in him, much as
a man we gazeevcien—tehen, in this nineteenth century, and in
test conquerors of Greece and Rome—with
his lifetime, associated in military renown with the
grea
names that had become great lights in history—yet
it is not this loss which is now thte.uppermost feeling
of our hearts, but one of a more tender and more
personal kind. Whilst nothing, then, can he more
true than her Majesty's remark, through the Premier,
that we cannot name him who is departed " without
pride and sorrow," we feel that the sorrow is more pre-
valent than the pride. Those who have spoken of our de-
parted hero in neigbouring nations have been anxious
to weigh his merits and contrast them with his op-
ponents. We have cared not for this ; we are too
much occupied with our loss to think of weighing
the amount of it or instituting
compariso
ns. The
services he has rendered are only SO many occasions
for more poignant regret; and just in proportion as
his merits occur to our memories do we find the more
cause for grief This is, indeed, an unusual,
the greatest proof of the hold which the Duke bad
taken upon the hearts of the nation. Great and sur-
passing as were his services to us, perhapsm
now that he IS
gone we think not so much of them as of him ; though
his name can never be mentioned
-- but with honour,
yet pride, honour, and respect are forgotten in the
prevalence of a better and 4 deeper feeling. Rarely

S ir N

has it been_ tbe lot of a hero, and one so :Y. - 'a—
the late Duke of Wellington, who has over: ee.`o • * , \‘:-',
the earth with his glories, to be gathered to '. t "ta .amas s
04ct
not so much with eulogies on his great d ' - -S''. ' k77•141*
-ea s a* at
with a remembrance of the deliverances a -) ;
wrought, as with the sorrow of love and p.,. -
affection. Whilst far beyond all competition, sttrizeS4tsittNika
pectation of rivalry, whilst in the great lustre of his
actions he threw into the shade all other warlike ex-
ploits of his contemporaries, and seemed removed from
them by an impassable distance, in his life he moved
among us as one of ourselves, as modest as if his merits
had been no more than ordinary. He has not taken
our hearts by storm with his glory or his genius—he
has not commanded our admiration by the scope of
his powers or the fertility of his invention—he has
crept into our hearts and fixed himself firmly there
by a more modest, but a surer way—the path of
duty. At the time when the world, long carried
away by the morbid love of distinction, when men
were striving to win a place before the eyes of their
fellow-men by any means, however erratic, there
was the Duke bearing testimony to that truth is
which the greatness of every one of us, and all coPec-
tively, consists—duty. It was the pursuit of this prin-
ciple on all occasions which made him what he was ;
it was the steady adherence to this, late and early,
even against his apparent interests, which provi-
dentially (or rather, by the law of Providence) aided
always in his exaltation. Never in any man's life
has the truth been more strikingly displayed, that the
surrender of his own will and his own aggrandise-
ment to the calls of duty terminated in a greater mea-
sure of renown than could have been gained had he
cazved out his own course for himself, But whilst to
this constant and unpretending pursait of duty we
trace Me true causes which cro caned him with so much
glory, to the same we also trace what glory does not al-
ways avail to buy—the heartfelt affection, :lasting and
undiminished, of a great nation. It is for ths that we
loved him—it is this which never can fail to win the
love of a noble people. He chose the path which could
not fail ; genius will cease to dazzle, eloquence will
become tedious, military renown must abate w ith
age; but the steady following of this truth—ti'e
great truth of his life—never can fail, never can
cease to win and find its way to the hearts of all men.
We doubt not the last words of that great naval com-
mander have often more stirred the hearts of Englsh-
men to the bottom, and plunged into the very foun-
tain of their tears, then the most studied eloquence,
or the most pathetic harangues. He knew well
how to pierce the tender rind of the toughest
heart when be gave as the battle-cry of his last en-
" England expects every man to do his
He knew that there was nothing which
could gather up all the best and noblest feelings of
en-
gagement, em.,ent,
their natures than when they could say either to their
commander or their country, " Sir, I have done my
duty !" In these words he fought, and with these
Words he ef
thefell .s a Hismeer
; great romper lived on, a lasting
lesson
, glory, but more
than all, our love, because he lived up to this truth
in all his ad gh
throughout all his
athed farue
relations of
life. We y ars, an t roug
expected it of him, and he has done his
duty.
CHRONICLE.—There are eras la ' • the history of
every Constitution which display with irresistible
fidelity the harmony " the various
powers which unite or discordance ot
to
form the idea or .the
State ;
and there is no test of thatharmony moi.e
indisput-
able than the expressiongiven to
by each in its turn
the well-understood feelin
Pre-
mier's letter which appeargesdoif a nation. The
e,
yesterday, announcing to the n ouro second edition 1
Majesty's desire that the grateful reverencemeSecret/ try her
England holds the name and memoryofth in which_
Wellington should be testified by a.e Duke of
public fue•eral
announces also that the pleasure of the Sovereign '
i
identical with the deep-felt sentiment of the Britishs
people. Yet, in her anxiety that this decision shouStd
not only be in reality, but should also formally ap -
pear to the world, the unanimous determination of the
Crown, the Parliament, and the commonalty, the
Queen has intimated her intention to ask the express
co-operation of the Legislature in paying the
last instalment of a cumulative debt to Eng.
land's first and greatest citizen. It will be
a subject of universal gratification that, whilst
the initiative has been taken in this matter by ale
Head of the State, this expression of Royal sympathy
is accompanied by evidences of a thoughtful regard.
for the one absorbing sentiment which pervades all
classes of the people. The Prime Minister has been
directed to express the Queen's solicitude " that this
tribute of gratitude and sorrow should be deprived of
nothing which could invest it with a thoroughly na-
tional character ; that such honours should not ap-
pear to emanate from the Crown alone, but that the
two Houses of Parliament should have the opportu-
nity of associating themselves with her Alajesty in
paying honour to the memory of one whom no En-
glishman can name without pride or sorrow." It is
impossible to doubt that the voice of the two Cham-
bers will prove a faithful echo of the universal feel-
ing; nor can we feel that any narrow or captious ob-
jections will mar the worthy utterance of that spon-
taneous loyalty which flae:“rorn all hearts to the un-
tombed relics of a national benefactor. The Prime
Minister might, indeed, have unhesitatingly assumed
the responsibility of counselling the Sovereign, as
the representative of the nation, to devise and order
the fitting tribute towards the deliverer of his
country—

" Cui pudor et justifm soror
Ineorrupta fides nudaque ♦eritas—
Quando ullum inveniet parem."

We can anticipate no exception to the unanimity
of the national feeling; for the obsequies of such a
man as the Duke of Wellington are not to be mea-
sured by those ordinary rules which associate with
the last trappings of mortality the silence of anguish
and the shrinking of reserve. At all times, and by
all nations, a distinction has been drawn between the
sculpture of the private citizen and of those who, in
death, as in life, are the representatives of a nation-
ality, a character, or a faith. No man reads the elo-
quent language which Pericles poured forth over the
tombs of his fellow-countrymen who were slain on
the field of battle—no man repeats the epitaph which
sums up the worth and the actions of those 'who died
at Marathon or ThermopylEe—without owning to him-
self the necessity and the truthfulness of that distinc-
tion. There was something too, if less grand, yet not
less earnest or less suggestive, in the barbarous
rites and the undivulged burial-place which the
Huns deemed the weed of their great chief, and in
mpi
tualdgs
eindeo wf
inhauss
imlmeafpntlieitnryvaesnsptdeeadrkuisnd:h,
ruder
his tomb.
times.tno
om b.
less
fTheorc commonforce
from
the solemn magnificence with which the dead Charle-
magne
superficial trammels of modern civilization, than.
As a generation
Camillus whose
which has passed away gave to the h the firmness and vigour saved the commonwealth--
isit the
sub-
stantial rewards of dignity and wealth, so
display
its
equally plain duty of the present im-
age to. uncier
which surround the
and that loyal fidelity ofduhtf 'her glory than even
name of Wellington with
ta
reverent acknowledgment of that unswerving integrity
I is not only as one who
a Waterloo can give- f Assaye, or cut the short
rolled the thunders
°r
served the State with wise
career of Napoleon,
the unanimous
and disinterested
voice
niecreoei:a
yolii England
honours at ningltaiindsproofneomunecrgesenfocry'rtehgaalt
because
"representativet he Duke
whose memory
men" and patient continuance in well-
unwearied energy. will ever point the lesson of
doing- wasu onet iosfratthhoesre
which characterize
' appreciation
w
repel, but rather exalt and refine, men s
The feelings, whether social or religious,
. the present day, are such as du not
detract
closed to impair or
no. blot upon
the career which has now . .
appreciation can
of
Wellingthonis.
faonrmd there is
from
assume.
the solemn acts of a nation is one from which the
The light which Christianity sheds upon
f an
thheerhoiigchleifset ;
thhaapti4ly
pageant of a public funeral will borrow, in this case,
additional lustre. The Duke of Wellington was a
Christian as well as a soldier ' • and there is no feeling
generated by the review of his long career which
may not accompany him to his grave in a Christian
temple. Her Majesiy has decided that the most
fitting place where the ashes of the great Commander
can rest is under that canopy " where Glory weeps
o'er Nelson's shrine ;" and the national heart will
respond to this decision. Both as regards the facili-
ties which our metropolitan Cathedral offers for the
ceremonial, and the associations which are already
connected with it, its fitness to enshrine the mortal
remains of the Great Duke is above all
question t
and there is something in the comparative solitude of
the spot, as contrasted with Westminster Abbey,
which commends itself to the universal feeling.
i
Standing at that
Joint sepulchre, where will repose
the two captains—diverse in charaoter,
distinct in
sphere, separated nearly half a century in their deaths,
yet one in their abiding sense of duty—our posterity
will say—
men the dust."
Of two such wondrous
" And ne'er held ramble in its trust

ACCIDENT AT THE OLD CRYSTAL PALACE.-011
Tuesdayi morning a man named John Brown, a labourer em-
13,1eYed by blessrs. Fox, Henderson, and Co., in the remova
o' the xemains of the Exhibition building in Hyde-park, met
with a serious accident by the slipping of one of the large
cast-ir on girders. He was assisting at the hoisting sheers to
remov a the girder, which was about 20 feet long and nearly
three t ;ons weight, from the flooring of one of the galleries
upon 3. lumber carriage for conveyance to the new erection
soma
at N. gwood, and during the process of lowering, by
mear is it slipped a short distance down the chain, when one
end of it caught his leg and jammed it against some wood
wor' K. His screams speedily indicated the hurt he had
was
suf-
fered, and means were taken to get him up, when he
at o ac e removed to St. George's Hospital, where it was found
that E e had sustained a compound fracture of the left leg of a
very E erious character.
TH E LATE DISCOVERY ON ARTHUR'S SELT.--ThO
golden i articles which were discovered on Arthur's Seat, as
stated .in our paper on Wednesday, have been claimed by a
shoph eeper on the South-bridge. No burglary had been
coma titted on the premises ; and the goods were not missed
bio
ysthy
aeprroprietor till such time as the announcement of their
d
appeared the public prizawZdiburgli Witness.

\k.„