The Sun.
London, England, 1864-07-15 00:00:00

MONSIEUR MORLOT AS AN EQUESTRIAN.

That good gentleman by no means found himself a'
home on the back of a horse. It has been already men.

tioned that the animal selected for Monsieur Morlot's use
had been chosen on account of its quietness, but it soon
appeared that this prepossessing quality was to some ex-
tent counteracted, as good qualities too often are, by a de-
fect of some importance to an unskilful rider; Mouton
(which in consideration of his lamb-like qualities was this
animal's name) was what is called a rough-goer. He was
also a very broad animal ; and these two characteristics
combined proved somewhat disconpos;ng to his rider.
Now when a rough-goer and a bad horseman get toge-
ther two results almost invariably follow—the eques-
trian's hat gets shaken down over his ears, and his
unmentionables get worked up over his knees. Mon•
stens Morlot was no exception to this rule, and when
Trelane looked back after getting clear• of the town to see
how his faithful follower was getting on, he was seized
with such a fit of laughter that he was obliged to pull his
own horse up abruptly, lest he should absolutely roll off his
back. Monsieur Morlot had no idea of relieving himself
and his beast by rising in his 'stirrups, but was riding after
the legitimate cavalry fashion, only with an infinitely
looser seat, so that at every step taken by the docile Mouton
his body was subjected to a shock that threatened to shake
the very teeth out of his head. The effect of this violent
bumping upon the unfortunate man's costume was precisely
what might have been expected. His face was nearly in-
visible, for not only was his hat brought down so completely
over his eyes that it was a matter of grave question whether
it was possible for him to see, but the collar of his coat and
neckcloth had got worked up in so extraordinary a manner
that they almost rubbed against the brim of his hat. It
must bo mentioned besides, that the cuffs of Monsieur
Morlot's coat had suddenly become so long that his hands
were entirely concealed in the sleeves; while his trousers
on the other hand had wriggled themselves up to so remark-
able an extent that his legs, which wore so emaciated
that there hardly seemed room for the bones, and which
wore encased in blue worsted stockings, were visible from
the knee down to the blucher boots, which jingled loosely
in a pair of stirrups which might have been arranged
expressly for the use cf Edward Longshanks of royal
memory.
Afterwards, we are told how—so soon as he could in
any way recover his gravity sufficiently to do so—
Trelane proceeded to give his companion a few hints
on horsemanship, cud, above all, to initiate him in
the noble art of rising in his stirrups. Monsieur Nor,
lot took to this new invention, as ho called it, with
surprising alacrity; indeed, he eNperienced such relief
from it, and found that it so meter:ally alleviated the
sufferings which ha had previously endured, that the only
difficulty now was to keep him down, so that 'what with
the rough movements of Mouton and Monsier Morlot's
terror of coming in contact with the saddle, he would some-
times, for a considerable time, be found standing up in his
stirrups altogether, and riding, at a very slow trot, in
the attitude in which our jockeys generally appear as
they pass the grand stand at Epsom.
Here, again, somewhat after the fashion of Leigh
Hunt, is the evidence of our Eye.witness's "eye to
the ridiculous" in scanning the contrast presented
to view
by—
THEI LONDON 'llliS AND THE PARIS OMNIBUS.
Let the reader, we will suppose for the first time, get
into a London omnibus, and suffer his eye to travel do.wo
the range a faces on each side of this exhila•
I rating carriage. What an anxious set I what an
overwhelming eensa of responsibility is upon them I
what apprehensions about their future or regrets

)out their past are preying upon their minds !

Now let us turn from this double row of suicidal counten-
ances to the faces which brighten up the Paris vehicle.
How eager, how observant, how ready for the enjoyment
of any incidental fun, and—in this so different from the
Britannic humorist, who, when he is amused, is always
ashamed of it—how ready to show that they areenjoying
the joke.

Mr. Charles Collins evidently keeps his eye well
upon the alert wherever ho goes. Instance, this, his
droll, serio-comic recognition of the vexation some-
time caused to us in the streets, by any chance foot
passenger going at pretty much the same pace, in
pretty much the same direction as one's self

You begin to question this stranger's right to walking
your way. What can he have to do in that neighbourhood ?
What business has he to adopt your pace ? (it never
occurs to you that he might consider y( u were adopting
his). What right has he to wear that particular kind of
coat ? His legs are aggravating, the back view of his hair
insupportable, his hat a positive insult.

if our author wants to p;ace a refection before
one of his characters, in Paris, some fine forenoon,
how appetizing is his description, as follows, of—
A breakfast at the Cafe du Cardinal I What a room to
breakfast in to begin with, what wealth of glass and
marble, and white and gold. How pleasant to unfold your
snowy napkin as you seat yourself at the little round table,
and take up the unimposing newspaper which savours so
much more of pleasure than business, to turn at once

to the theatrical bill of fare for the evening :
What butter, too; what rolls, what oysters, what
cutlets, what half. bottles of white wine, what coffee
Young France may well (as it does) crowd into this place;
though where the money comes from with which it feasts
itself so sumptuously twice in the 24 hours is a mystery to
him who writes these pages, and one which he has often
reflected upon with reverent wonder as he chips his meek
egg at the frugal London breakfast table.
Here, however, quite as vigilantly as in the
Parisian cafe as any where else, indoors or out of
doors the Eye Witness keeps his weather.eye open
—still with an eye to the ridiculous ! Voici!—

The irritable old solitary at the next table to this pleasant
party is hard to please, and not agreeable to dine next; for
besides trying all the " breads" in the basket before he finds
one to his taste, fingering and pinching them mercilessly in
the process, his ideas as the different uses of napkins and
pocket-hankerchiefs appear to be in a somewhat con-
fused and undefined condition. He objects, toe,
to every dish, and has many of them changed to
suit his palate and his absent teeth. Finally, he
taxes the bill, and has the landlord sent for, and,
underpaying the waiter, leaves that functionary (writ) will
not stand much nonsense in France), cursing him by his
gods from between his set teeth. It is possible that that
particular waiter's temper has been already a little tried by
an English traveller who has upset the order of nature by
beginning his dinner with a " bit of fish," taking no soup,
which alone is an unpardonable outrage; and who, firming
a bifteck aux pomines not enough for dinner, and being of
those persons who like to cline off one thing, has ordered
another " to follow."

Whoever can, while reading these fragmentary
quotations, yet preserve an aspect of grim serious..
ness, need turn elsewhere for amusement than to the.
pages of " The Bar Sinister." To!erably certain of
this—by the way—wniie he does to, that he is un-
blessed with any sense whatever of the humorous.

Pocket Edition of Butler's Iludibras. One
Volumette. Pp. VAL William Tegg.

As charming a little edition of a great classic
masterpiece us we ever remember to have seen has
just now come to us, in the shape of this reprint,
in a single pocket vo:ume, of the whole of that
world of vit., Samuel Butler's Hudibras. Knows
ir,g the work itself, as a matter of course,
intimately, we have but to scan it here,
purely and simply as a reprint. And, it is
while viewing it exclusively as such, as a reprint,
that we can speak of it, as we do, tnus, upon the
instant, in terms espreseive of the highest and
completest satisfaction. It is just precisely what
a pocket edition of Hudibras ought to be—strongly,
simply, prettily bound ; gut-edged ; beauti-
fully printed in clear type, on excellent paper ;
having just a sufficiency, and no more, of terse,
apt footnotes; ten pages in length of a memoir of
Butler; a capital likeness of him as a frontispiece ;
and—sprinkled through the book among the letter-
press—those famous old woodcut embellishments
that, if we remember rightly, were first erapioyed as
illustrations to " Hudibras" at the Chiswick Press
by Charles Wittingham. By placing within reach
of the public generally this new issue of Butler's
masterpiece, Mr. Tegg has done a good service to
all those English readers who are in any way
capable of appreciating one of the wittiest books in
our language.

DEATH OF " MANHATTAN."—Tae well-known
New York correspondent of the Herald and
&mutat d, whose letters have been read for nearly three
years with unflagging interest, died suddenly on Juno 25,
while President Lincoln was deliberating whether he
should be imprisoned in Fort Lafayette or banished to the
Confederate States. It is not improbable that the excite-
ment caused by his arrest, and anxiety for the fate of his
wife and only child, a daughter whom he tenderly loved,
may haVe produced that fatal catastrophe. Joseph A.
Scoville, known here as "Manhattan," and in America by
the nom de plume of " Walter Barrett, Clerk," was born
in Connecticut in 1811, and bred to commercial pursuits
in one of the largest shipping houses in New York. At
the close of his apprenticeship he formed a partnership
with another young New Englander, under the title of
Scoville and Britton, and embarked adventurously in foreign
commerce. Their ship had made but few voyages when a
commercial crisis, such as America had been periodically
subjected to, caused the failure of the young firm, and Mr
Scoville resorted to literature and politics. He was con•
nected with several papers as publisner or contributor, and
though wanting in education, his extensive acquaintance
with men, travel, retentive memory, and impulsiveness of
character, made him an interesting writer. Though dealing
largely in broad humour, persiflage, and exaggeration, he
was at times profound, eloquent, and even political in
feeling and expression. Mr Scoville was a State Rights
Democrat ; for some years the amanuensis or private
secretary of the greatest American statesman of his day,
John C. Calhoun, of South Carolina. There could be no
batter testimony to the real worth of his character than the
fact that ho was trusted_ and loved by such a man. lie
wrote some of Mr Calhoun's latest works at his dictation.
and was with him until his death. He aftet wards married
a relative of the deceased statesman. ith such a political
education and associations he could not be otherwise than
a friend of the South. He had no expression strong enough
for the contempt he felt for the Republican party and its
proper chief, Abraham Lincoln, and the corrupt crow
gorged upon the spoils of war and the plunder of the
Northern people. If he profeosed to be a Union man, he
did not hesitate to say that he preferred Jefferson Davis
to Abraham Lincoln as the President of the Union.
If in his letters he reflected the hopes of the North,
and the feelings around him, it was never difficult to read
his own feelings—and reckless as he has sometimes seemed
in his statements, his letters have been on the whole more
truthful than Federal dispatches. Some allowance must
be made for his position. He could not say what he wished,
nor serve openly the cause he had at heart, but he managed
while he lived, in spite of Federal tyranny, and with Fort
Lafayette in sight, to do that cause good service. Mr.
Scoville was generous to a fault. No man ever asked his
aid in vain if he had power to help him. lie had known
misfortune and poverty, and sympathised with the dis-
tressed. His good qualities had made him many friends
For'two years before his death he held the honaurable ap-
pointment of reader to the Common Council of New York;
and it was a matter of considerable doubt whether President
Lincoln, even at the instance of General Dix, and after a
full examination of the treasonable correspondence of
"Manhattan," would have cared to put that holy to the
trouble of selecting a new reader, Vie have no disposition
to ignore the literary faults of the letters of " Manhattan "
and the author of "Marion," but it is proper, when his
energetic labours have been brought to a sudden close by
the hand of death, that we should give him credit for his
merits and demerits.....-The Index.
HONOURS TO ENGLISH SURGERY.—The King of
odnfle3r
umonthsponr
Henry
ye
to whom he owes his cure, and whom
gpnleoaWsedP3toSßC
the Belgi2ns, having
aTnt
tdo
mc opms
of
no r, t,
of bLaosndon, been
he has rewarded by the munificent fee of £4,000, the fur-
ther distinction of nominating him Officer of the Order of
Leopold, and Surgeon-Extraordinary to his Majesty. T,h s
is u just and well earned honour. Tne King is in excellent
health, can take all sorts of exercise freely, all symptoms
of malady have disappeared. The case, as is well known,
was one of great difficulty and responsibility, and it was
also known thr ughout Europe that M. Civiale, of Paris,
and the distinguished Germen surgeon Langenbeck had
each been specially summoned previously, and, after patient
endeavours, hem been beillecl in their labours, and had
failed to effect a cure. Thus, when the skill of Mr Henry
Thompson succeeded in relieving the King from his euff,r-
ing, and removing his immediate cause, the honours which
he won were reflected in some degree upon the English
school of surgery
which he represented, and Mr Thompson
will assuredly receive cordial and
general congratulation
upon the marks of esteem which King Leopold now
bestows upon him.— The Lancet.
THE NICWSVENDORS BRNF.VOLENT AND PROTI
DENT INSTITUTION.—Mr Alderman Lusk has engaged to
take the chair at the annual festival of this institution, to
be held at the Freemasons' Tavern ou the 20th init.