The Sun.
London, England, 1852-11-19 00:00:00

BANE OF ENGLAND.

An Account, pursuant to the Act 7th and Bth of Victoria, cap. 32 fir
the Week ending on Saturday, the 13th day of November, 1852.
1118IIR DEPASTMENT.
Z. A.
Notes issued.. 34,699,;75 Government debt .. 11,015,100
Other securities .• • • 2,984,900
Gold coin and bullion 20,680,121
Silver bullion • • • • • • 19,154

31,699,275
J. R. ELSEY, Deputy Cashier.
Dated the 17th day of November, 1852.

X 34,699,275

BANKING DKPAATMBN T.
Proprietors'capital.. 14,553,000
Rest .. 3,127,453
Public deposits (in-
cluding Exchequer,
Commissioners of
National Debt, Sav-
ings-banks, and Di-

vidend accoitr 1.0.. 5 973,230
Other deposits •• .. 12,367,099
Seven day and other
8i115.............. 1,607,161

437,527,913

Dated the 17th day of Novemlael

Government securi-
ties (including Dead
Weight Annuity) .. 13,962,688
Other securities 11.493,7' 8
Notes .......... •. .. 11,49,,990
Gold and silver coin.. 574,497

I £37,527,943
J. R. ELSEY, Deputy Cashier.
7, 1852.

THE DUKE'S FUNERAL.—Much as we had reason to
believe that the Duke's memory would be revered and
respected, we were certainly not prepared to witness
anything like the excitement caused throughout the
whole of the country. Had the period of lying in state ex-
tended to weeks, or even months, it is probable that there
scarcely a person in her. Majesty's dominions but what
would have visited London to have 'paid a tribute to the
memory of his Grace. This might be considered a mere
pretext for relaxation ; but as one fact is worth a hundred
?conjectures, we have it in our power to state that a
essrs ;Tags informing
g Mourning Warehouse in Regent-street has actually
than it has ever done
disposed of more than -treble the amount of mourning
lament--M upon former occasions of national
moment, but are intended for a lengthened such purchasers are assuredly not merely for the passing
bso I
h that
en the
dp e
rimajorityod ,
ma. n oi
..f
festing anything but an ephemeral soe rrow.—Morrrouj
Paper.
-ill-e7.-- ic
etio-----n of e
CARLISLE.—At • Carlisle,-
with
Quakers (the " fri.ends of peace')
and p
a few of their
' adherents nearly 821 the shops and
places of business
were closed.

imENNEIMMIIIMMI MINIMEMIN=ti

FUNERAL OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

REMARKS OF THE CONTEMPORARY PRESS.
(From the Times.)

London yesterday must have fared ill in the sober
judgment of a stranger unacquainted with the his-
tory and character of the British people. The whole
population appeared to be bent on feasting its eyes
with a funeral pageant, of no extraordinary beauty,
the subject of which was a man whose death had
long been a matter of constant expectation. The
passion had assumed the form of a positive mono-
mania. To the one object of doing the thing wor-
thily, and beholding it thoroughly, all other con-
siderations had given way. A great political
question, lately held sufficient to cause a dissolu-
tion of Parliament and a session at an unusual time,
had been almost indefinitely postponed to make way
for this paramount necessity. As the Chancellor of
the Exchequer observed, an economical nation had
rejected all thought of expense, a practical nation
had surrendered itself to a mere sentiment, a
busy nation had resolved to waste a day, an un-
ostentatious nation had all of a sudden determined
on a pompous display of public affliction. Not a
single institution or arm of the State but was
pressed into this new service, or, to speak more
correctly, its part. The Crown, the Legislature,
the army, every department of the public service,
the Church, the municipalities, the aristocratic and
mercantile classes, down to the very populace, con-
tended with a strange rivalry to be foremost in the
work of doing honour to one man. So the prin-
cipal thoroughfare for half the length of the me-
tropolis was converted into the theatre of this great
national eulogy. The nobleman's mansion and the
huckster's shop were equally prepgred for the re-
ception of the spectators. Deal benches started into
existence wherever it was possible to place them. They
filled every shop-window, surmounted every wall,
occupied every vacant space, from the gardens of a
palace to theburial-ground of a church, and the site of
a house recently pulled down. It was said yesterday
that more than 200,000 seats had been constructed
and offered for sale, and the greater part were taken.
To avail themselves of their several opportunities,
Parliament was adjourned, a holyday made by
law in the City, the shops were closed, and every
artisan was early on the ground, in quest of a
good standing position. While it was yet dark
the pavements were occupied, and the barriers
threatened with the impatient admirers of a man
infinitely above the condition of the vulgar, and
who never made much profession of sympathy for
it. "The city is mad," said a few cynical observers.
But the country was mad too. Though floods
had interrupted the railway traffic, and the baro-
meter was below "much rain;" though the day
before had been showery, and the night promised
still worse ; though the streets were ankle deep in
mud, and average accomodation was a guinea a
sitting, still London was full of country folks, at-
tracted by the name of a man whose greatness •in
their minds was little more than a tradition from
their fathers. How it passed we need not here tell.
Scarce a seat was vacant, not a standing room with-
out its obstinate tenant, as prepared to endure the
inclemency of the skies as the men who first revolu-
tionised France. The pageant went its way, and
has left an indestructible idea in near a million
minds. In the ordinary course of things, a century
hence their will still be some score old people in
the country who will talk to incredulous hearers of
the Duke of Wellington's funeral ; and in the year
2,000, A.D., there will be a few score more who
will relate what their own fathers told them
about it.