The Sun.
London, England, 1864-01-29 00:00:00

MARK-LANE.

The arrivals of English wheat fresh up to our market
to-day were moderate. For all good and fine dry samples
there was a steady demand at full prices ; otherwise the
demand ruled inactive, on former terms,
The show of samples of foreign wheat on the stands was
tolerably extensive, There was a moderate inquiry for
most descriptions, and Monday's prices were supported.
Floating cargoes of grain were in slow request, at late
rates.

With barley the market was fairly supplied. Generally
speaking the trade was quiet, but good and fine malting
qualities were firm in price. .

Malt changed hands to a moderate extent, at late quo•

Cations.

The supply of oats on sale was moderately good. The
trade, on the whole, ruled steady, at full currencies.
For beans and peas, the supplies of which were moderate,
there was a fair demand, and prices ruled firm.
Most descriptions of flour moved off steadily, at full quo-
tations.

ARRIVALS THIS WIZEIC.
Wheat. isarley. Malt. Oats. Float.
Ency,lish 1,230 2,370 0 3,260 ' 1,980 1450
Irish.. — —-1 750
Foreign.— 14,260 14,590 I 10,109 1840 sks,
brls

Mr. Thornbury's New Novel.

Wildfire, By Walter Thornbury. Three Vols.

Hurst and Mackett.

" Wildfire" is a well selected title for a story,
meant to depict the rapid spread of Democratic fury,
and still further to exemplify the horrors which
heralded in the first great French revolution. The
scene of Mr. Thornbury's novel is laid partly in Paris,
where we are introduced in a very dramatic manner
to some of the principal characters in the story—
namely, Carnot, Deszannettes, and Victor Beau-
jolais, three fellow students, with It tmeau, an

ambulant musician, the most interesting and im
portant agent in carrying out the plot. Carnot and
Deszannettes are warm hearted and noble minded
young men, although out and out supporters of the
specious doctrines of liberty, equality, fraternity.
They soon, ho wever, find, when employed in carrying
out the principles which they profess, that plunder
and the gratification of private revenge are the
motives which actuate the base persons who,
mounting to political power by pandering to the
passions of an ignorant and debased populace,
practise the most wholesale and unheard of cruel-
ties on all classes subject to their ruthless sway.
Disgusted with the brutal conduct of Robespierre
and his satellites, they endeavour to stem the tide
of his grinding tyranny—but being, like the other
Girondins, too timid in their measures, and too slow
in their movements, they let slip the favourable mo-
ment foraction, and become the victims of the system
which they themselves aided to establish. Both are
condemned to death, and one of them (Carnot)
perishes on the scaffold. The third of the characters
presented to us in the Palais Royal is Victor Beau-
jolais, a moderate Royalist, and lieutenant in the
43d Regiment, of which his father is colonel. Gen.
Beaujolais comes from Avignon, where he com-
mands, to Paris, accompanied by his daughter
Violette, and a certain constitution-framing Abbe,
a diminutive model of Sieyes, to be present, when
his niece Marie takes the veil, bat that young lady
not choosing to devote herself to a religious life is
removed from the convent. The revolution breaks
out, and the great interest of the book com-
mences with the departure of the Beaujolais
family from Paris. They settle at Giroflet,
a village between the capital and Orleans,
where they reside in comfort and tranquillity with
the amiable Cure of the parish, until they are dis-
covered by Fauchet, a villainous attorney, who had
ruined the general's eldest brother, and been him-
self expelled from Avignon, covered with infamy
and disgrace, mainly through the exertions of the
general. This man, now risen to power, seeks his
revenge; denounces the entire family of Beaujolais
as aristocrats, and would have arrested them were

they not warned of his machinations by Rameau,
who assists them in their flight. They are pursued,
hut at length reach Avignon, where, supported by
his regiment, which is thoroughly loyal, the general
considers himself in safety. But the inhabitants
of Avignon, like the rest of France, become infected
by Jacobin principles, and the General disperses a
club and arrests its leaders just as Fauchet arrives to
act then as Dictator with uncontrolled powers—he
instantly demands the release of the prisoners,
which is refused, when he excites the " sans
culottes" to rebellion. The castle, strong enough to
resist a siege, is basely delivered to the insurgents
by the commander, a disguised Revolutionist, and

,he Hotel do Villo in which the General has en-

trenched himself is stormed, his faithful regiment
is annihilated, and he himself with all the members
of his family are made prisoners. Through the agency
of Rameau they once more escape, but are again
captured and finally transferred to Paris, where all
are condemned to death by the revolutionary tri-
bunal. The wretch Fauchet becomes enamoured of
Marie, who is betrothed to Victor, and proposes to
release her friends if she consents to marry him.
His proposal is indignantly rejected—she obtains
an interview with Robespierre, pleads the cause
of her relations, and failing to obtain mercy
far them, betakes herself to Fauchet's hotel,
and agrees to accept him as her husband, provided
he ensures the immediate release of her family.
Fauchet eagerly accepts the proposal, and Marie is
removed to another room while he prepares the
necessary orders. And now Rameau, who hes for
some time actei as Fauchet's secretary, and is
thus enabled to thwart his plans, enters. The Dic-

tator, who bad but just discovered his infidelity,
denounces his conduct, and shows him the death
warrant of his son, an only child whom he has kept
as a hostage for the father's good conduct. The
interview must be told in the author's own words :
It was a lurid day, without any visible sun ; thick, stag-
nant, grey clouds choked the air, and seemed to brood with
a nightmare weight upon the torpid earth. The very
flowers seemed lifeless; the birds flew heavily and were
silent.

Fauchet's room was intensely silent—so silent, that the
sound of a blow-fly bussing against one corner of the glass,
angry at its unintelligible imprisonment, seemed louder
than the drowsy monotonous pulsation of the clock in the
black case that stood on the mantlepiece.
As the door creaked open, Fauchet looked up with a
smile worthy cf hell.
" So, so, monsieur," said Fauchet, "so you not only
betray my plans to my enemies, but you release a lady
whom I choose to detain a prisoner. You send
her to Citizen _Robespierre to undermine me--you think
in fact, to baffle and thwart me—you, a buffoon and para-
site, a poor wandering vagabond, who dies if I choose to
raise my finger. You have trespassed long enough on my
patience—to-morrow your brat perishes upon the scaffold—
there, no supplication. I. have said it—it is inevitable; and
were you not useful to me, you yourself should not survive
him.

" Citizen Fauchet," said Rameau gravely, and without
tears or prayers, drawing his chair closer to the dictator,
" we have many debts to settle—let us settle them now,
there is no time to loose. You wonder why I have secretly
helped those Beaujolais ? I will tell you. You remember
that 30 years ago you led one Louis Beaujolais, a foolish
spendthrift, to his ruin. You forged for him, and urged
him to forge; you made him break his father's heart, and
impoverish his younger brother. Finally, you cast him
off, a disgraced beggar, to die in the West Indies. lam
Louis Beaujolais ! 1 now come to pay my debts to you."
Fauchet started, and moved his chair back, but Rameau

was calm.
" Time, sorrow, dyed skin, assumed voice and manners,
and bleached hair, effectually concealed me from you. I
entered your service, and bore all your insults, to save my
brother, and atone for my past sins by one good action—to
drag you, if possible, to the scaffold, or some loathsome and
retributive death—to hurl you to the red hell gaping for
you! It Was I who planned the escape from Giraflet—it
was I prevented the massacre at the Avignon prisons—it
was I denounced you to Robespierre, and warned your col-
leagues of your treachery."
" Scoundrel, I do not believe your story," said Fauchet;
"though you are base enough even to cheat a galley-slave.
And if it be all true, what have your fine plans brought you
to ? To the guillotine, with your son. Look, the name I
write now gives you but fifteen hours to live. I wed Marie ,
release from prison those Beaujolais ; I send them out to
beg upon the highway; soon they will be arrested again—
and so will perish a proud bad race. As for you, you will
never see them again, nor they you. I have but to ring
this bell, and you pass straight from hero to the axe."
"If I have but fifteen hours to live," said Rameau, leap-
ing up with the fury and passion of a madman, and seizing
Fauchet by the throat and mouth, with a deadly grip, so
close that he could neither move nor call out, he planted
one knee upon Fauchet's right arm, while he ,held his left
in the other as in a vice, "you have but fifteen seconds to
breathe. Hell clamours for you. Look on the wall, spawn
of Satan I"
Fauchet looked instinctively, and saw the shadow of an
enormous arm holding a long thin knife. He tried to scream,
but Rameau'a strangulating hand upon his gullet stifled
every sound. Rameau felt slowly, and with a horrible
care and exactitude for the lawyer's heart, and found the
spot which the doctor had that morning pointed out.
" Monster, butcher, incarnation of Satan I" Rameau said
in a low hoarse voice, "hideous as you are wicked, another
instant and I toss you into hell, where even now, creatures
better than yourself leap for joy, and splash in the flames
to hear of your coming I Forsaken by God I—hated by man I
—without hope or consolation you are defeated, tricked, and
countermined in the midst of a short triumph, which this
blow cancels. God himself sent me the weapon that now
pierces you—DIE I"
The thin strong knife rose slowly in the air, it descended
with terrific force, burying itself to the hilt in Fauchet's
heart. The blow was so sure, deep, straight, and true that
only one drop of blood escaped from the small orifice of the
wound—the bleeding was internal. There was only a low
groan, and Fauchet fell back in his chair, dead. The
scourge of mankind had gone to his account, and hell
already had received him.
Immediately on perpetrating the murder, Rameau
destroys the death-warrants already signed, but he
is discovered, seized, and committed to prison,
where he meets his son and brother, the General,
to whom he discovers himself. They are all pre-
pared for execution,
when Robespierre's tyranny
is overthrown. They are released, Marie espouse

Victor; Violette is united to
...._---......-----------1
whomß she has been all through attached ; on
eam, leaving his son, who after Wards become:.
Getier.oll
abe distinguished musician, in chargo of the
H takes himself again to his vagabonl course of
afterlit
returns annually to visit his faint' but
~ea
the tenth anniversary of their deliveranco heirs 0
nbo more. Although the French Revolution bar
based
a hacknied topic, Mr. Thornbury's pollee
upon the sufferings, escapee, and altern s
never-ceasing. interest. It is Written, ---elleitee.
Peksinnettes, .
safety and happiness of his characters
aspirit and vigour peculiarly his own, carilivge of
readers with him through the various, and Ode,
them historical, scenes which he so vividlYto $1
6G •bes. The entertainment given by the i
,Yliel
between uard to the Regiment of Flandere, the. °to
Dampierre and Victor, and the snel3ehrlf
prison on the eve dexecntion are all so gr'Plo is
moreover, ;It.:
depicted that every event is ' laced before us or
a picture. The faults which pa
critic
he diABpc:s of
in " Wildfire" evidently arise from the bitinu-b-utip
stot
is thea pwrinkter or the inattention of the writer;
es to
of great ability, which fullY Pr° ovet
excitementbor may be created and sustained Ina hold
rheyecrooui legitimaters her"mulods'erwn
heroine a bigamist and a would-be murderess.
----
..,
itehxopuetditlZsaoutt.laiuuvg its

--------- __
Charles Dickens on W. M. Thacker"'
Very simple, —___-----
THE " CORNHILL MAGAZINE" FOR Fzpn.ol' ~4
,ifeol'
in every syllable of it, is the tribute offered very brief, and perfectly ne a to
deceased, by that one amongst his
month to the memory of the great writer re,,,riel
coet:or-00
whose inimitable genius Thackeray himself regard
whose
throughout life with so full, and earnest, nu
sato
tloioonkainteganfoardwmaiidra,tionn. The paper, tow e beet
multitude of the readers of them both hal ere
t
tiis7e/meinlit:gaezxintee nogerlY ..4.
foot rood
ew, so very Co,
sinceh the February number of the scle
it is comprised within the compass of tWelpeoteoce!
that publication. Yet within those feW 8;000
extends
swoavner alnenssountcheada 139
.40:
everything is said that one could wishtohtle evroi'
by Charles Dickens in regard to Williamsb° osiblo
What is there said is to the fullest estt ;000
are in a manoer laid bare before
worthy of them both. The hearts of the
~ titbit/
us thr°loo
affecting utterance, in the mournfal Werele°o, 10
are audible, as it were, their most gehe°„ 0'00:
very gentlest and noblest pulsations. Its " sorer '
brance of Thackeray, it is ono extellaiq to hi°
period of twenty-eight years. It &Plc hoe
in all his varying moods--supreroell witli
rous, irresistibly extravagant, &Weill /141;
children, his full large heart overflovi:
so brie.
the most exquisite sensibility. The pePer 'tses, botts
that it may be read through in a few minor our re;
will cling from that time forth lovinglY to aisfolu
membrance. Isaac Disraeli has writteon P otoTO
entertaining book--a book of some bullt."-sheanstbi
• tie P'r • 115
Quarrels of Authors." Here, in this llt tweig;
Charles Dickens, is something that
t 'd°
it all. The manliest, the tenderest triv atotlio-t
from one of the greatest of Englif is that
honoured grave around which were
to another but just now lard ea PI ",,iii
bcof
roe of
at
other day "the heads of a great eohet)liotiogi,to
fellow-workers." As was indeed 0019 0000;05
it should be, the Cornhill for February sf:00 ore,
month with a deep mourning border. it'd Otter
of Mr. Dickens's paper, which is giveli t, Petoa
eanstittlhede sfiimrsptlyar,tgilcnle
minemtohreianni,r(vihee'tib.....soolr6sls
Poet Laureate for teaching us that phref.Bl.3b'rsrf the
woodcut sketch of Mr. Thackeray '0 '-'1 net 111,01
newly built mansion, on Palace Greet 03001"0- itl
old court suburb of Kensington. Anetiroa 0,00
tribute to the great humourist is cooWeing vets,
new number of the Cornhill for the etiedeetearti
of February—namely, a most genial kiter.lol7e-rOOl
in the magazine, Mr. Anthony
brance of him by his distinguished brow
_e, 1/
_le
Troll,flocirer!,
which contribution, headed " Wr• 14* airostro,
we are tempted to make the following -ire, 0
Mn. THACKERAY AND HIS FELLO lajoef ,iii'4 ljtl
He who knew Thackeray will have e' °;0001.4 till'
heart's inmost casket, which must OW° .0,...40141,
dies, One loved him almost as ore 10° Pinl),tl'
from him as a source of joy
derly and with thoughtfulness—thiaking of hid'otitir
loved eV
is full of comfort. One who loved hi h''
because his heart was tender, as is the 1011
earn oKc,
It need be told to no one that four cl the"..% cofm,
years and cue month at the day on 11111i.ze-joe Vfr Oro
will came be fork the reader—this Meg'" the it le;,t
which cannot be 6 a 001,00,
of Mr, Thackeray. It is not for
menced under the guidance, and ill As vi'o,4llo'.
any of,a. of,/ for 0
connected with him in the enterprise / r ne":401
this was done successfully or not; but its e f° t of 5,1
the gentlest of rulers, and,
of all men—to declare that he was the hiciettuie i' poittl
unselfish, considerate, beyond compare. Itnlif the o it°
him that he was jealous as a writer. end- f frl.re;
knew nothing of, such jealousy. Anent 5 00'°Ibeti'or
Mr. Thackeray gave up the mans„
he
0„f OW' 0$ its
finding that there was mueh in the very -0000 04,60
as a fellow•werto b, 6002011
task which embarrassed and annoyed him' 11.1.6004 0 to
vain ; and, worse again, he
to tell an ambitious aspirant that his t'ePl eoduet,64o to
could n°tTbeir 1° tpla,ot
so when a lady was his supPlfent.A. sbe rho 1161L.0
him were thorns and festered in his siu" Ss
vi•-tra 4"„ cf
himself. In truth it was so. There are re
~e 0 old 0 V
doubt, who open their hearts
in wielding the editorial fertile, geed oirts villeie tit;
find it ; but they can repress and crush teoppertoori 4f 0
or the would-be poetess who has nothieg. tosi with
ii r ,t 1
at le •sytheillev,l4tel„
genially to ge itopabo ,t,e,
her own ambition, if not with delight,
tion. Of such men are good editors 0°1;113. 00 5,,,000030 'll4
a point against a man, or for him, to be 54:: for ''''s for
they who think of the subject rag ill:100°10 1."1,/
Thackeray had' it not. He lack& yetir° le, say= 104
place, and therefore, at the end of 1W frollig" ,still
quished it," . . . Further on gr'oplet°, to ~i
"'Esmond,' of all his works has mostt !theoel.,,ve'ooo,l jyt
the critical tastes of those who profe "ra '0 lil 01
critically. For myself, I own that 1 reg: waole,',4life
the first and finest language. Takeo
.B°i: cone oeco'ola
that it is without a peer. There thatn it, ,of cone boo
0 or
historical plot, and an absence of tall"ilif,torie., i'litidi
which blemishes, perhaps, all our othebreiood
triostDl' otO
which places it above its brethren. And,• ale,'" ‘S I'lo
plete with a tenderness which is almost MT•oot 0 14,4400
which no poetry has surpassed. • • ; coloeei . AO
be, as a whole, our best English novel). otiollt•ootef,
is the finest single character in l'glis,Doil Q ale 04 pc°
has been surpassed by Cervantes, fo . to, 105 030:00,/,
may, perhaps, allow, though ' Don Gols'esss-ory te ~,legc, 0'
tags of that hundred years which if; nececoicoet r ~,ortopt
mellowing of any great work. Wbea th lesseVido''otljil
shall have lived his hundred years, and
edjea t' re
Thackeray and his compeers shall have ,to A,
iir
and not till then, will the proper rok °
001 e-
br
literature be appreciated. f the e giPti tI4I
Over the rest of the contents° . 0 ho h
Of Do(
linger'
it, we have hardly the heart to
_s sill, i sot e
her of the Cornhill Magazine we vlllll Two rod"
of the great loss endured b
arely.„ " aced , fee! 0
the sudden death of the re iii;OPlol,,
who was its founder, hangs still abov . 911.,
..•40,
iistli ''' :bre •
„Pr
home grief as we turn the page:.
__e aro ',.,0f
,Det
nothing to us—for once—that
(taa:....e not!! "los
tional chapters, of more than:v.
_ti..16030 re !ri,," `, of
Small House at Allington, tri'L 1.1 OW "der Irf
instalment of " Margaret D. 0.13 11::tiett 0 Polio ;sr
one contributor celebrates 1
tl
that de ill° t°
David Gray, and that anf e
~,eO3 0 ~jogclp
thoughtfully upon a sugge,,stt% 1:s,
el ero.ye„, Pis
tenuating Circumstances 1 " ow° Pio Of.,
note the t t co,
us, on the contrary, to , thic „, if
d fiv.leal. 0 ti,
upon an orange coloured , be. o. re/ di
number, that id' the March num , A ,et
by the late W. M. Tht,AckeraY he left, WI 1,
that pia 'O% t
hill, will contain the First F at__t::tbs 1641 a ,f(3.1,
he ever wrote, the one his or ell 400
unfinished. Accompanying !tory (too
too,
itee,
went of Thackeray's lasto
_I. at snyli be gl
000
Dickens, " his masterpiece, t.
) there One vr°;is/1
it is aunorrrn urrocileral..eenee. 0,
promised to be his inasterpifeeea tbia sainogro'
steel, from a drawing bl 0
________-_vro}'.so7,
fiWye-leaf, perceive,
ave Portrait of •_l.vit ~:rcieei j.,a,0" 4 fit
~
---"'7------ IsEt " ttet till'
AST OF l'lGl' ale C'4
FOR EVER: O e
receiced
beo o it i
By a Clergyman. --We hatvt
tile nublis twit JO)
Messrs, Hurst and 13lacke ,s,
.9 ;:c. stot.e
€000:e fil;
work, in which they requ. e :_'.. ;0001:: llPti
not (as was conjectured in
....wid..nei.ievoenoccoret
from the pen of the BeTi.i "1
u3isled, it 4101,00:
viewer was not unnatura Loco at oorer`rot,.ooo; ;
similarity of title, and
oorivreenti°;B:fautten.;. eiette4pr.eeCiOrtt;
woritati _ is oili,a titi,, 00
Story ot English Lite,,, d
tmoisme.akempt:lß)li:ntehsivs,o
„ its °ecc i Life'
tion—" For Ever " being, . ~, countr
e B,,gilei.
mates, 4, A Story 0).
"By a Clergyman.