The Sun.
London, England, 1864-01-02 00:00:00

SHIPPING—This Day.

LONDON, Jan. 2.—Wind this day at noon—North-
East; moderate breeze, and fine weather, with a sharp
frost.

PORTSMOUTH, Jan. L--Wind S.E.—Arrived—Beecher
Stowe, from Rio Grande for Antwerp. Sailed—Lindsay,
for New Zealand.

CLYDE, Dec. 31.—Wind W.—Sailed—Margaret Smith;
for Demerara.

CARDIFF, Dec. 31.—Wind S.W.—Sailed—Shamrock,
for Havannah.

COWES, Jan. I.—Wind W.N.W.—Arrived—Oscar,
from Otago, N.Z.
PLYMOUTH, Dec. 31.—Wind N.W.—Arrived—Bellona,
screw steamer, from Havre for New York—Rienzi, from
Shields for Bilboa.

HOLYHEAD, Jan. I.—Wind E.—Arrived—Hannibal, for
Bombay.

(BY MAGNETIC TELEGRA_PII.)
GRAVESEND, Saturday Morning.
Arrived—Warren Hastings, from Rotta dam—Sea Queen,
from Bimlipatam.
Sailed—Bilboa, steamer, from Gilboa.
DEAL, Saturday Morning.

No arrivals.

THE MOTJRNING FOR THE LATE PRINCE CON
SORT.---As the hatchtnent of the late Prince Consort has
now been removed from the position which it has occupied
during the last two years over George IV.'s Gateway, the
period of mourning for the much lamented prince may be
considered to have terminated.

THE SANDRINGHAM. ESTATE.—The park at San-
dringham House, the sporting Norfolk residence of
the Prince of Wales, now contains about 60 head of deer
and a number of fine Alderney cows. The accommodation
for the Prince's suite is being.extended, and sleeping rooms
are being built over the stables, which are in course of en-
largement. A spacious mess-room is also being erected.
At the principal entrance to the park are being placed the
well known Norwich Gates, which, it will be remembered,
were purchased by a county subscription last spring, and
presented to the Prince of Wales. The Sandringham and
King's Lynn coursing meeting, which was to have taken
place next month, will not come off until the Home Farm
passes into the hand of the Prince at Michaelmas.

NOT IN THE LEAST LIKE !—Mal apropos to some-
thing, the Saturday Review has just nuw remarked—" It is
in this way that the Pope has called Victor Emmanuel
' Judas Iscariot,' and the Emperor Pontius Pilate.' " Our
contemporary has here got somehow very confused in his
recollections. The comparison referred to was once intern
perately indulged in by one of the French Bishops—never
by the Pope, in whose gentle nature it is not to he in any
way thus bitterly sarcastic.
THE SCARLET-FACED MONKEY is exactiingly
rare, and has bushy whiskers, of a beautiful sandy hue,
meeting under the chin, very like the Dundreary ones now
worn I

BALDNESS AND GRZYN ESS !--The Editress of the
Queen do ha eae s Cases in which the use of
ish Dam hasra tutu
the Tar and others in which it.

kt. t•
has rest

hair.

LITERATURE.

A Woman's .Ranscm. By Frederick William
Robinson, author of " Grandmother's Money,"
&c. 3 vols. Hurst and Blackett.
A mania for excitement has unfortunately seized
upon the novel-writers and readers of the day, the
extravagant has taken the place of the natural, and
horror is regarded as the only legitimate element of
interest. To such al amount has this pernicious
influence extended, that even those fiction-writers
who had already distinguished themselves as truthful
painters of domestic fife have been carried away by
the stream, and like the dog of the:fe.ble who dropped
the substance for the shadow, have cast aside the
essentials to true success already within their grasp
in the hope of realising a shadowy popularity,which,
if attained by such means, could only prove evanes-
cent. Among this number we are sorry to find the
author of the popular novel of "Grandmother's
Money." His new work, " A Woman's Ransom,"
has actually been recommended to general admire
tion as the Novel of Crime !—such an epithet being
undoubtedly in the present day an attractive dis-
tinction. Those, however, who may in consequence
turn to its pages as a delightful stimulant will be
also sadly disappointed. According to Lord Byron
( who was well qualified to give an opinion on the
matter, being himself a master in the delineation of
either character), Scott's Lord Marmion lacked the
essential elements of attraction, either good or bad,
being
" Not half a villain, and but half a knight I "
In like manner " A Woman's Ransom," while emu-
lating the horrible reputation of some of its con
temporaries, does not actually venture to realise its
own evil ambition. We hear of the elopement of
the wife of the bad hero of the book, but after
awhile it appears that the report is a falsehood
contrived by the husband himself, who is
the murderer of the * unfortunate lady. An
interest is at length, after long and weary
delays, attracted by the supposed discovery
of the dead body, when, lo and behold, the lady is
alive, and no murder has actually been committed.
The character of Herbert Vaughan is a marvellous
compound of unnecessary criminality. Ho is evi-
dently'prepared to commit every evil under the sun,
and gives himself an immense deal of trouble to con-
coct and carry out schemes of Machiavellian dupli-
city without any adequate reason for their con-
trivance. The sister of this evil spirit,Mary Zitman,
is a young widow, who is left in possession of her
husband's large estates, on condition of her never
leaving the estate; or never taking another husband.
The brother contrives to enjoy the mastery of this
property, and takes every possible precaution to
prevent his sister's second marriage. The situation
is so far well contrived, and the question of Mrs.
Zitman's emancipation from this state of thraldom,
which is preying upon her health, and unsettling
her nerves, gives its title to the book—" A Woman's
Ransom." The character of Mrs. Zitman, which
at first promised well, degenerates as the story ad-
vances, and she becomes feeble and commonplace.
Far more interesting is old Mrs. Ray, the covetous
sister of the deceased Mr. Zitman, and who is to
inherit the property on the death or marriage of
the youthful widow. This old lady is a compound
of avarice and cunning, and her character, disagree-
able as it is, is cleverly drawn. A powerful scene
occurs, when at last her seared conscience is touched
with a late remorse ; it is entitled

♦ WINDING SHEET IN THE CANDLE.
"Let me tell you, Mr. Gear," turning to me, "why I
came bere such an awful night. I was in the house-

keeper's room counting the plate—l like to count the plate
myself, with a candle close at my elbbw, 'cause my eyes
are bad—and Letty was practisin' her peanner in the
drawin'-room—she practises hard enough, now there's a

chance of marryin' that Vaughan."
" Marrying Vaughan!" exclaimed my mother.
"Don't you interrupt people," snapped Mrs, Ray;
"that's the tother story, which I haven't given myself the
'fluenz3 to come and tell you."
"Oh 1" said my mother, completely silenced by this un.
complimentary remark.
"And I was a-counting and a-counting," Mrs. Ray
continued, "and making one silver table short, which was
a hard loss, and was trying to recollect who was the big-
gest thief I'd got in the house, when I noticed—good for I
—I noticed the awfullest winding-sheet I ever seed in my
life. I was friz then, and forgot the silver table, and
skreeked out, Mary Gear's a-goin' to die, and I haven't

told her on pp' y sins yet.' And, uh, sir ! is she wus I"

" Better."

The old woman's explanation of her visit had frozen my
own blood a little ; "Mary Gear's a-going to die," had been
uttered with an awful earnestness. My mother, a shade
more pale, too, sat and glared at Mrs. Ray.
" She'll be wus—she'll have a relapse—l must see her
to-night I"
" Impossible."
" I've come a long way on a night that few people would
ventur out—l've left a winding-sheet at home—l find
another here I"

" But winding sheets, Mrs. Ray," explained my mother,
who seemed well versed in those articles, " only foretell
death in the honk) wherin they are seen first."
" Get out I" said Mrs. Ray, "they tell the death of the
one you are thinkin' the most on, and the most troubled
about. That's Mary Gear to me—and she's ill and agoing
to die. I'm as sure o' that, as I'm a living woman sitting
here 1"

" It's very wrong to sit there, saying such awful things,"
reproved my mother, "putting such awful things in my
boy'a head."
" So I couldn't rest," continued Mrs. Ray, deaf to the
reproof; "I felt if death was about here, and I must not
let an hour go by and not ask your wife to forgive me all
my trespasses against her. I tried to think, at fust, that
to. morrow would do, that it was an awful night, that I was
old, and excitement was bad for me, but the wind said No'
to it, and ttte rain said No' to it, and God Almighty said
No' to it, I'm sure 1"
She held her hand up to prevent all interruption, strug-
gled with her breath,'and then went on again :
"So I dressed and came out. I ordered the horses to be
put to the carridge, and Miss Ray not to be disturbed at her
peanner—and the noise she made herself; drownded any
other !—and I came away to see your wife, sir."
" I am very sorry, Mrs. Ray, that you have put your-
self to this unnecessary trouble, but—"
"But you'll let me see her ?"
" I dare not, for her health's sake." _ _

" If she were to die to-night, sir I" she entreated.'!
" I do not think there is any fear," I replied ; she has
been mercifully spared to me, and I entertain great hopes
of seeing her well and strong again."
"Mr. Gear," she affirmed, with a persistency that was
terribly depressing, " it's the snuff of the candle only
brightening up a bit. She'll die, she'll die, I tell you!"
" I will pray not."

- -
"And I must see her, I must whisper to her that did
her harm once, that I planned harm against her, and
built upon her death and money. Oh! I must tell her
that."
it I pledge you my word that she will forgive you, NI. rs
Ray."
" It's a weight upon an old woman's soul, and ony she
can lift it off me. You're a man who won't be hard upon
me, in this late hour, when I've better thoughts l"
" In a few days you may see her."
" Too late 1" she affirmed ; " I've dreamed all that's
coming—l've seen her dead face in my sleep—it's not only
the winding-sheet that's brought me here."
She continued to plead her cause—l to remain deaf to
it. This old woman's excitement was deep and intense,
and must arouse Mary's. There• was danger to my wife,

and I was her guardian to protect her from it.
The old lady, however ultimately obtained her
object—
" I have come, Mary Zitmen," murmured Mrs. Ray,:still
in the same posture, and bestowing on my wife the old and
more familiar title, "I've come before death parts you
and me—sooner than either on us thinks, perhaps—to ask
your forgiveness for past sin. I wished you dead once—
and I—l tried to kill you 1"
" No—no," answered Mary.
" You had my brother's money. and I had a miser's love
for it. It seemed my right, and I was poor and wretched.
I—l prayed every night that you might die, and leave me
rich, when I thought you would not marry agin. It was
the one prayer that I taught myself."
" Forgiven!" said my wife.
Mrs. Ray's excitement was on the increase, and I could
see my wife was anxious to abridge the interview, although
fearful of an abrupt termination thereto. Janet, with folded
arms, stood by my side, intensely watchful.
" James Baines—your brother's man—and I had a long
talk together at last—in the very room downstairs I've
run away from. God forgive me I but—but I promised him
a thousand pounds when you were dead, knowing he was a
villain who never studied life much. I tempted him, and
he watched you—plotted against your life—opened your
winder, when you were sleeping, that God's nir might turn
murderer against you, too —ho was my tool, and he
worked on in the dark."
Mary closed her eyes—l could see the red blood mantling
her face and neck.
" Janet," I whispered, "this must cease now."
" It's a' doon—the warst be oot," muttered Janet.
" You that say, ' Forgiven' unto that V' Mrs. Ray
screamed, with a vehemence that alarmed us all. " You're
going to die, and leave me accursed. Oh, Mary Zitman I