The Sun.
London, England, 1852-07-30 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON,

THE IRISH ELECTIONS.
The most painful feature connected with the recent
elections is the aspect that Ireland has presented
throughout the whole contest. Whenever great masses
of people are collected together, we are of course pre-
pared for a certain amount of riotous conduct and dis-
turbance. This is the penalty we must pay for a free
expression of the popular will. For the sake of the
advantage we accept the drawback. Bat ordinary tur-
bulence is one thing; it is quite another matter when we
find a country given up to systematic intimidation and
nocturnal brigandage, when peaceful citizens are com-
pelled to barricade their dwellings in broad daylight, and
to fire in self-defence upon a mob of ruffians who are
thirsting for their blood. It is not a legitimate exercise
of constitutional freedom that the inhabitants of three
provinces should be entangled in the meshes of a wide•
spread conspiracy which threatens destruction of pro-
perty and life to all who dare to disobey its behests.
Nor does the !cape of the intimidation Overt stop on
this side the grave. The superstitious and ignorant
men who have been called upon to exercise the
electoral franchise are unfortunately persuaded that
the power of the leading election agents extends over
their souls as well as their bodies. in many cases they
believe this to be so; in others they dare not evince the
slightest symptom of disbelief, lest they should be
doomed to instant and terrible destruction. The Irish
Roman Catholic priests, we grieve to say it, have not
hesitated before any abuse of the power with which the
superstition of their votaries has invested them. It was
but the other day in our Irish intelligence we had to re-
cord, that in the middle of the nineteenth century a Ro-
man Catholic priest declared to an open-air meeting that
he would never marry a man who voted for Hamilton or
Taylor—that ho would never administer the rites of bap-
tism to his child, or impart to him the last consolation of
the Church upon his deathbed. Another, at the conclusion
of service, called out aloud from the altar the names of as
many of his congregation as had votes, and compelled
them to walk up in the face of the congregation to that
sacred spot, and receive from his hand the voting-
tickets on which were inscribed the names of the candi-
dates in whose favour they must register their votes.
" Who would vote for Jocelyn Otway?"—writes the
author of a Tipperary election manifesto to which we
have already had occasion to advert. " The traitor who
will do so, never let him enter a chapel door. Let his
memory be to you like the memory of Judas. Keep
from him, for the devils of hell are his companions, and
no saint in heaven will pray for him in his dying hour."
Such was the nature of the electoral impulses brought
to bear iu favour of Messrs. Scully and Sadleir in the

county of Tipperary.
It is only by enumerating instances that we can hope
to give even a faint idea of the Reign of Terror under
which the Roman Catholic peasantry have been held by
their priests during the recent election. The subject is
one fraught with too much peril to the stability of our
representative institutions, or we should shrink from the
task of drawing into a focus the various blasphemies of
the Irish priests to their deluded flocks. The following
extracc is from a speech delivered by the Rev. Mr. Maw,

at Tralee:—
" Eiectors of Tralee—you, the honest electors—who
have always upheld the independence of yottr town, as-
semble in a body to-morrow; go to those unfortunate
wretches, and make them acquainted with the cense-
quencee cf their guilt. For my part, I'll confess to you
what my feelings are with respect to those wretched and
corrupt Catholics. Let me suppose one of those wretches
prostrated by sickness. Suppose the hand of death
heavy upon him, and that a messenger comes to me to
attend him in his dying moments. If there were no
other priest in the way I would be bound to go. I dare
not refuse to attend him; but I confess to you that I
would be sorry from my heart to be called upon to at-
tend the deathbed of such a being.—(Great sensation.)
I would go to attend such a wretch with a heavy heart,
without much hope, because I would feel that I was
going to administer sacraments to one whose conscience
was so seared and whose heart was so rotten at
the core that I could not have much expectation of
effecting a conversion. Overpowered with the im-
pression that I was about to visit a perjured wretch,
who for a miserable bribe had betrayed the dearest in-
terests of his country and his religion, and borne down
with the harrowing reflection that God, in His just an-
ger, might leave such a wretch to die in his sins—
(Scusation)—l would fear that my mission would he
fruitless—that I could have no hope of converting a heart
so hardened, so lost to every sense of duty and religion,
as to vote in support of those who would trample on the
Lord of Hosts.--(Sensation,)"
Such was the method employed by the reverend touter
to canvass the borough of Tralee in favour of Mr.
Maurice O'Connell. During the contest of which we
have before spoken, in which Messrs. Hamilton and
Taylor were concerned, the poorer voters were not only
denounced by the priests in the manner we have before
stated, but, when it was feared that even this degree of
intimidation might prove ineffectual, bodies of men were
dispatched through the country, who caught the voters
and tied them down in carts, in which situation they were
either brought to " reason" or kept out of the way. In
Parsonstown the pariah priest paraded the town at
the head of a mob, successfully carried on a
razzia against the unfortunate voters of Messrs.
Bland and O'Brien, and dragged them down to a
building, in which they were locked up under the cus-
tody of a body of priests, who were also charged with
the duty of bringing them to " reason!" All the efforts
of the landlords, as we are informed by our correspon-
dent from the spot, to protect their tenantry were un-
availing. We cannot bring our eases to a conclusion
without noticing once more that address of the Rev. Dr.
O'Brien to the " Young Men's Society" at Limerick,
which had so terriblo an effect in inflaming the passions
of the people, and bringing on the subsequent tragedies.
The reverend orator took care to inform his audience
that Nero, and Henry, and Elizabeth, and Anne, and
the Georges, Russell, and Derby, were precisely the
same, and then went on to say—
"ln many places God's victory has been secured, or
at least His resources have been powerfully augmented;
the shrieks of the defenceless end the blood of the mur-
dered here at home proclaim that the battle is at our
doors.—(Sensation.) Heaven! this is in England,
a civilized country, claiming the rule of a Catholic
population and the allegiance of Catholic
hearts. (Cheers.) Up, brothers! (Hera the
whole meeting rose to their feet, with deafening cheers.)
What occurred in England yesterday may be attempted
by other means in Dublin to-morrow. We must be pre-
pared.—(Continued cheering.) Let not this Stockport
tragedy rest under the veil of English design and beastly
misrepresentation. Our kindred have been slaughtered
in this shamble of English butchery, and law and justice
have slept while the dark enmities of bigot hate have
dealt out ruin.—(Cries of Hear,' and sensation.) In a
place not much larger than Limerick scores of houses
have been sacked—churches pillaged and lives lost ;
while special and ordinary constables, to the sad sorrow
of weakness, could never overtake the perpetrators, or
stay one uplifted hand.—(' Oh, oh!') They came to one
locality—havoc had made its dwelling upon ruins—but
the fiends had fled. They ran to another, and they were
just in time to be too late.—('Oh, oh!') They flew,
with singular alertness and intrepidity, to a third; deco-
letion sent forth cries of agony, but the wreckers nowhere
appeared.—(' Shame!') In fact, the officers of justice
were everywhere but where they were wanted, and the
blood of the Irishmen paid the forfeit of their delay."
The instances we have given may suffice. The out-
rages at Cork and Limerick, and the more recent
tragedy at Sixraile-bridge, are the best comment upon
the success of the orators, and the best evidence of their
talents as electioneering agents.
Now, is this system of intimidation and violence to
be tolerated either now or for the future? All the
Ports
of Parliament are put forth to set a bound to the
unfair influenee and corruption which unhappily obtain
in the English counties and boroughs. We acknowledge
the evil, and we do our best to seek an adequate remedy.
In the present temper of the
Parliament
of 1-'bribery and. of
wo feel very confident that if the plagueament and the people
the
a total
et
eor
Channelr tip t io
an
verybe wholesalenot disfranchisement
stayed on this sir.
result.
George's
remodelling of our electoral system, will Lif
e
But, while we are battling with these puny evils,
neighbouring country to be given
upfromim we
e
of her
to
a
otime to fire and sword, and so many
Majesty's Irish subjects as are cursed with
the electoral franchise to be periodically tor-
tured in body and soul, in order that the. Roman
Catholic priee.thood of Ireland may return their
nominees to Parliament. In a case of this kind we for-
get all distiuctions of Conservative or Liberal, Derbyite
or Russehite, ar any other " ite;" we see nothing but a
flagrant violation of the British Constitution, end its
probable effects upon the deliberating of Parliament
and the general temper of the nation. As usual with
our Celtic friends, they are singularly blind to conse-
quences. They do not see that the blood which has
been so freely shed and the intimidation which has been
so unsparingly used may produce something like a re-
rtefatnati
an houndedaes enougho
n ne
in a e
Great re-
action on this side of the Channel. If fanaticism is to
be .
Britain,cisro and more of them God knows we have
i ti
than the most temperate men can well keep in bounds,
even in ordinary times. But, with these
accounts of the
the
Irish Reign of Terror fresh beforedPratestant public,
what can the friends of peace say o which will place
a limit to the general indignation? Nay, as statesmen,
we cannot escape from the necessity
attempt to restrain any further exhibitionof making some
moralizing and disgraceful scenes. We
eof these dc-
moralizing
the prevention of bribery and corruption have bad a Bill
England
—we must have another for the preventionEllgl
intimida-
tion and violence in Ireland. HOW manynototfheCatholic returns would endure the testof Roman
a St. Alban's
Commission 2 'fillies.

DEATH:
TAE CONVICT UNDER SENTENCE OF
WORCESTER, TriunsonY EvENING.—The avretchecoa
Nary Robins, alias Richards, who was sentenced tonlde.
the Assizes here, last Wednesday, for the wilful
her child, by throwing it into a coal-pit at Oldswinufordoer inof
this county, where it is supposed to have lingered timeson,:-,
before death put a period to its sufferings, has since her
con-
demnation conducted herself in a becoming manner, though
she does not appear to feel the full weight of the awful 1
sen-
tence passed upon her. Active efforts are being made to
obtain a remision of the sentence, the chief ground being
an allegation that the woman is of weak mind; but it is
thought that in consequence of the frequency of child murder
of late, the full sentence of the law will be carried out by way
of exampb. It is said that the day of execution is already
fixed, though it has not been made public. It is a long
TadAf
Reform
tebas
time since au execution took place here.
on the
OF SECRETARY TO THE REFORM CLUB.
vacancyaving occurred in the secretaryship of the
emClub, a very numerous body of candidates ;appeared,
connected with proved
invitation of the committee of the club, for the situa-
tion, the salary being 4.10/ per annum. The successful can-
THE RE,,Es
are informed
Hon. Itiliarct
borough, in the to- be' Dir. William Norway, a gentleman
periodical literature.
, on
t,,..,hIe7TATION OF PETERDOROUGH.—We
watscauthority of a private letter, that the
room of
the lately elected M.P. for Peter-
last at lionabur of Mr. W. Cavendish, died on Satur-
dayTimes.°l' aft" mi illness of only four days.—

THOMAS HOOD.—"OUR FAMILY."
(From Eliza Cook's Journal.)
" Poor Hood!" Thus does everyone speak of the
lamented Thomas Hood, who died just as the world was
beginning to appreciate the true genius of tile man, but
before he could reap any of its substantial rewards.
Hood's reputation through life was that of a humourist,
for he wrote for bread, and as the public would not have
Hood's deeper thoughts, he gave them his lighter ones;
he spun them " comic annuals," and " laughter from
year to year;" and thus he managed to live on from day
to day. But just before be passed away, there rung
to
through our island those thrilling stanzas, appealing
the profoundest sympathies of the human heart, The
Song of the Shirt," " The Lay of the Laboursea'' ad
"The Bridge of Sighs ;" and then it was the public de-
creed that Hood was somethi,sg more than a humourist;
that he was, in fact, a great ti eigie poet.
Thomas Hood was of Scotch parentage, though born
in London, where his father was a partner in the Look•
selling firm of Ternon end Hood. Poultry. He ',tits first
apprenticed as a merchant's clerk, but his health being
delicate it was found necessary to take him away from
his desk, and he was sent to his father's relatives, in
Dundee, where he remained some time, and made his
successful debut, as a writer, iu the pages of the local
magazines and journals. Here, doubtless,
ho acquired
his knowledge of the broad Scotch dialect, which we find
him re-producing in the old Scotch housekeeper in
" Tylney Hall," a novel, though: not much known, of the
most powerful character, full of highly wrought incident,
and situations of the most tre gic kind.
With his health somewhat restored, he returned to
London, and was apprenticed to his uncle, Robert Sands, '
the engraver, and was afterwe irds transferred to one of
the Le Keux. He was a goo, I draughtsman, and might
have attained distinction in !tits profession, but that he
was soon attracted from it by the more agreeable pur-
suit of literature. Yet, we of ten afterwards find him at
work with the pencil and graver, in furnishing the
quaint and comical designs of his own works, his
" Bonnie Annuals," "Up the Elaine," " Magazine," Sm.
We believe his first published book of poems was his
" Plea of the Midsummer Fairies," a little work full of
poetic beauty; tender, graceful, and exquisite. But the
book was not popular; indeed, rt is not so yet. So, as
the public would not take his poetry, ho met them on
their own ground, and gave them jokes and facetia,
which they would read. Laughter, however, was not
Hood's only object in writing. lie amused the multi-
tude to attract their attention; end he used his wit and
humour as the vehicles wherewith to convey his whole-
some and lasting lessons of morality. Though, as a
writer, who lived by his writings, he had to write that
which the public would buy, and thus suited his pro-
ductions to the general taste,ho never wrote down to the
lowest taste. His wit was never sullied by impurity
nor coarseness; never indelicate nor profane. Nay, his
delicacy was extreme; he was as sensitive es a mimosa
leaf; and a sort of melatioholy often dashed his merriest
writings, which made his jests to " scald like tears."
Many ef his quaint and laughter-exciting conceits were
steeped in human feeling and passion. As ho himself
has so touchingly said—
. All things are touch'd with melancholy,
Born of the secret soul's mistrust,
To feel her fair ethereal wings
Weigh'd down with vile degraded dust;
Even the bright extremes of joy
Bring on conclusions of disgust,
Like the sweet blossom of the May,
Whose fragrance ends in must.
Oh, give her, then, her tribute just,
Her sighs and tears, and musings holy !
There is no music in the life
That sounds with idiot laughter solely;
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
Bat has its chord in melancholy."
Towards the close of Hood's life, while he was still
popularly known as a humourist, there appeared in the
colums of Punch that wonderful po©m which instantly
thrilled through the hearts of thousands, and produced
an effect such as, we believe, no piece of writing within
the same small compass had ever before done—his
agonizing " Song of the Shirt." Parliamentary reports
had exposed, in long detail, the hardships inflicted on a
large portion of the industrious community ; volumes
had been written about them, eloquent speeches de-
livered on the subject, the miseries of our female artisans
—dressmakers and shirtmakers—had been deplored in
all forms, but Hood's little poem effected more than
them all. It went straight to its mark; it thrilled the
common heart. He hit the nail on the head, and sent
it home at a blow. Not less touching, not less full of
penetrating truth, was his " Bridge of Sighs," one of the
most powerful expositions of a great social evil, a can-
cerous sore eating away the hearts of multitudes of
human beings, which has ever been penned. These
pieces, short though they were, revealed the almost
Shaksperian genius of Thomas Hood. They were the
last thoughts of his great heart, over longing for the
emancipation and happiness of the down-trodden and
suffering many. And thus footing away towards the
deep waters of eternity, did he in these piteous appeals
to human sympathy pour out his soul in song.
Notwithstanding the great genius of Hood, and the
large amount of literary labour of various kinds which
ha performed, he died very poor; for the literary man has
no position in England; ho may be a great genius, but
if his books do not sell very largely, and he cannot com-
mand high prices for his copyrights, he may soon starve.
The literary labours of twenty years enabled Hood to do
no more than subsist, and the only legacy he left to his
family was his fame. We cannot but lament, that the
close of the poet's career, hopeful and clear though it
was as regarded the beyond of this life, was clouded by
this reflection, though the generous letter of Sir Robert
Peel, communicating the intelligence, that a pension of
1001. a 3 ear had been granted to his wife, did much to
alleviate the pressure of this anxiety. Tho life of the
mere literary man is one of great labour and of small
gains; it is precarious; and his genius, or literary stock
in trade, cannot be bequeathed, like a bookselling or
banking business, to his offspring. The literary labourer
must always be at the mill-wheel, grinding, whether
well or ill; and it is the nature of literary labour to wear
into the health, and to stimulate into unhealthy activity
the nervous system at the expense of the physical
powers. Hood was a victim to the " literary ailment."
For many years, towards the close of his life, he was
labouring under disease—habitually ill—dying slowly;
and yet ho wrote on. In one of the last publications to
which ho gave his name as editor, " Hood's Magazine,
he thus humorously pointed out the pains of the literary
life, in an imaginary letter from "A Subscriber:"—
" Sir,—
By your not coming out on the Furst, I con-
clude you are lade up, being notorus for enjoyin bad
holtb. Pullmery, of course, like my poor Robert, for
I've had a littersy branch in my own fammily, a peri-
odical one like yourself, only every Sunday, tasted of
once a month; and as such, well knew what it was to
write long-winded articles with Weekly lungs. Poor
fellow ! as I often said, so much head work, and nothin
but head work, will make a cherubbim of you; and so
it did. Nothing but write, write, write; and read, read,
read; and as our Doctor says, it's as ad to studdy till
al is brows, as to drink till all is blow. Mix your cul-
len. And worry good advice it is, when it can be fol-
lord, witch is not always the case; for if necessity has
no Law, it has a good deal of Literature, and Authors
must rite what they must.
" As poor Robert used to say about seddontory habits,
it's very well, says he, to tell me about, like Mr. Words-
worth's single man as grew double, sticking to my chair;
but if there's no sitting, says he, ther'll bo no hatching;
and if I do brood too much at my desk, ire because
there's a brood expected from me once a week. Oh! its
very well, says he, to cry Up, up with you, and go fetch
a walk, and take a look at the daisies, when you've sold
your mind to Miffy Stofilis, and there's a devil waiting
for your last proofs, as he did for Doctor Forster's. y
know its killin me, says he, but if I die of overwork its
in the way of my vocation. Poor boy I I did all
could to nurridge him. Meek Turkey soup and strong
slops, and wormy jelly, and island moss; but he couldn't
eat. And no wonder; for mental labour, as the Doctor
said, wares out the stummack as well as the branes; and
so he'd been spinning out his inside, like a spider. And
a spider ho did look at last, sure enuff; one of that sort
with long spindle legs, and only a dot of a body in the
" Another bad thing is sittin up all nite, as my sun
did, but it's all agin natur. Not but what sum must,
lateauthors read very
and partickly the writers of politicks for the papers;
but they ruin the constitushun. And, besides, even
work, nor no month either. And, poetry is apt to get prosy, after twelve or one; and some
June, and September, are all short what is one to do, when no day is long enuff for one's
nudt
months,at as oboe r
sßbuuorthe OE, r
etAt,sbpa
ori
April,
very ! However, one grate thing is, relaxing,d if you
i
boy? why, being always in the workhouse,
yourthlr
the playhouse. So, get out of
can, as the Doctor used to say, t o Jack adu
and never at
things, and
andslip-
pers, says he, and put on your best
yourself, like a beau. If you've been atg and unbend.,
flights, go and look at the Tems tunnel;
I:,nocritp ocotuic,;(e)
tired of being witty, go and spend u hour with theY wax
work. The mind requires a change, as well as the
merchants.
"So take my advice, Sir—a mother's advice—and re-
lax a little. You want brassing, a change of hair, and
more stummuck. And you ought to wear flannel, and
take tonicks. Do you over drink Basses pail? It's as
good as camomile tea. Bet above all, there's one thing
I recommend to you, steal wine; it's been a savin to
some invallids.
" Hoping you will excuse this liberty from a stranger,
but a well-meaning one, I am, Sir, A SUBSCRIBER."
Thus could Hoed play with a subject lull of painful
impart, and inculcate severe truths in quaint and hu-
morous guise. Ile made the eye dance with laughter,
at the same time that ho touched the heart to its depths.
It was Coams teaching sympathy and human kindness.
the laugh passed away, but the stern truth remained.
While quoting from Hood's Magazine, we may shortly
refer to a tale, commenced by him ia that periodical, en-
titled " Our Family," which seems to be well worthy of
a reprint. It des cut short by the death of its author;
but it is full of humour, and is most interesting, so far
as it goes. There is some admirable portraiture of
character in the tale. Uucle Rumbold is a thorough
original; but we can only give here a specimen of Cate-
chism Jack, being his introduction as apprentice to the
village doctor:—
"My lather was the perish doctor, and when ho en-
teredo the surgery Mr. Postie was making up a prescrip-
11n • A poorr, shabbily-dressed Woman was waiting for
the medicine,
and a tall, foolish-looking lad was waiting
for the poor woman. She was a widow, as it is called,
without an and
encumbrance end had a cottage some
small means of hershe eked out with the
stipend
allowedown, which , .
charge of some to her by the overseers, for_ tatting
witted boy washer infirm or imbecile pauper. The half-
" It's for Jacobs" said
Ward.
, said theas my father
glanced over the woman,"
ecription. He
esthoulder of his assistant at the pre
" Of course he g does," wasea and w""
ray father,
" and will
whilst he takes those Opium'sa
" So I tell him," pills."
said the woman " with his sane,
r
and in a flat marshy count man, ,
about to dive any one the like this, with water enough
hydraulics."

a Ilydroptics."
" Well—droptics. You. want stimuluses," says I,
" and not tiar—nar—cis—''

liezco Lien."

" Well—cotics, But the poor people all take it. Ins
their last penny, it goes for a penny-worth of °pie, as
they call it, at Dr. Shackles."
"I wonder he sells it," said my father.
" And aiking your pardon, Doctor," said the woman,
"I wonder you don't. They say he makes a mint of
money by it."
" Never!" said my father, with unusual emphasis;
" never, if I want a shilling."

Tho assistant suddenly checked the pestle with which
he was pounding, and looked inquisitively at his princi-
pal, who fixed his eyes on the idiot boy.
" Well, my lad, and who are you?" inquired my
father; " what's your name?"
" M. or N." answered the boy, slowly dragging the
wet forefinger, which be bad withdrawn from his mouth,
with a long snail-like trail along the counter.
,6 Fiddlestick," exadmed the woman, giving her
charge a good shaking by the shoulder •; "you've got
another name hesido that."

" Yes," drawled the boy, " some call me Catechi3m
Jack."

" that's an odd name!" said my father; who
gave it you?"

my godfathers and godmothers, in my baptinat
said Jack.

"No such thing, Sir," said the woman; "it was the
idle boys of the village, because he was always repeat-
ing on it! and, indeed, poor fellow, he can repeat no-
thing else."
" Then how did he get that?"
Why, you see, Sir," said the woman, "between our-
selves it was all along of his godmother."" Ah, indeed!" exclaimed my father. " His god-
mother, eh?"
" Yes; Mrs. Foyer, as was, for she's dead now, as well
as his own mother; and that's how he came into WY'
care. His mother went first, while ho was in petticoats,
and so Mrs. Foyer took charge of him, and sent him to
the infant day school. She was a very strict woman in
her religious
principles, and so was the schoolmistress;
and both made it a great point for the children to be
taught accordingly, which they was. Well, one daffy
there they were all, in the schoolroom, up one pair, arid
little Jack amongst the rest, the last of the row, a-set-
ting on the very end of a long form, close to the op(3n
door. 'Well, by-and-bye the children were all called up
to say catechism; so up they all got at once, except
Jack, who had been playing instead of getting his task
by rote, which made him backwarder to rise than the
and behold! up tilts the form, like a
rest; when, 10,
rearing horse, and pitches Jack, heels ever hoed, through
the door, and down the whole stone flight, where ho was
picked up at the bottom, quite unsensible."
Am with a concussion of the brain," said my
father.
n A contusion of the occiput," added Mr. Pestle;
the spinal
vertebrae excoriated of course, and bruises
"
on both patel.m,"
n I don't know about that," said the woman; but he
had a lump on the back of his head as big as an egg, tb.e
two nubblea of his back were rubbed quite raw, and his
two kneepans were as black as a coal. It was thought,
too, that his intellex was shook up in a muddle."
e No doubt of it," said my father.
" Well, to go on with Jack. At long and at last he
came to, sore enough and smarting, as you may suppose,
for he had been carried home to his godmother, and she
bad rubbed his wounds with spirits of salts, which had
got into the cute. And now Jack, says she, mark my
words, and let them be a warning. It's a judgment (of
God upon you, says she, for not knowing your catu-
chinn; for if e, o be you had got it by heart, you woul d
have ris with the rest, and this would never have hap
pened. But its a judgment upon you, said she, and the
schoolmistress says it's the same thing; till between both
the poor thing was so scared, he set to work, he did ,
at his chatechism, and never rested day or night till ht.:
got it by heart, as be nes now, so thoroughly, you may
dodge him any how, backward and forward, and ho
wont miss a syllable. And that's how he came by it, sir,
as well as by his nickneme; for except catechism, which
his head is too full of, I suppose, to hold anything else.,
he dont know a thing else in the world."
" Poor 'ellow," slid my father, opening one of the
surgery drawers. " Here Jack, will you have
.a lozenge?"
" Yes, verily, and by God's help, so I will. And I
heartily thank -."
" There, there, hush! go along with yon," said the
woman, giving her protege a push towards the outer
door, and then tekieg up the medicine, with a nod of
acknowledgment to Mr. Beetle, and a curtsey to my
father, sho departed, her forlorn charge clinging to her
garments, and muttering scraps of that formula which
had procured for him the sobriquet of Catechism Jack.

It was Cathechism Jack—who, after a preliminary
peep or two from behind the door post, at last crept with
sidling gait and a sheepish air, into the surgery, where
by ccee:ltric approaches, like those of a sly bird, he,
gradually placed himself at the counter.
" Well, Jack, said my father, " what do you want?"
Jack made no reply, but dropping his head on his
right shoulder, with a look askance at my father, plucked
his sodden Enger out of his mouth, and pointed with it
to one of the drawers.

" You see," said any father, in an aside to Postle,
" the fellow 7:0 not quito a fool. Ho remembers where
the lozenge .:.atno from."
" Mere animal instinct," answered Pestle, in the same
under tone, " a monkey would do as much, and remem-
ber the cannister where he got a lump of sugar."
" I will him further," said my father, putting his
hand in the' Irawer for a lozenge, which he held out be-
tween his finger and thumb. " Well, Jack, what will
you do if I give you this?" Jack eyed the lozenge,
grinned, locked at my father, and drawled out his
answer.

"I'll say ray catechism."
" No, no, J'ack I" cried ray father, " we don't want that.
But will you be a good boy?"
"Yes," arid Jack, his head suddenly drooping
again, while a cloud passed over his face. " Yes, I will,
and not turn!:ile down stairs." down

"Poor feP ow !" said!my father, " they make a
fault of
his misfortui3e. I have a great mind to take him. Should
you like, Jack, to get your own living?"
"Yes," answered Jack with alacrity, for my father
had unconsciously given him a familiar cue,
and labour truly to get my own living, and to do ruY
p
duty in that state of life to which it maylease God to
call me."" to learn
"Catechism again!" whispered Mr. Pestle.
"Yes, but aptly quoted and applied," answered WY
father. " 1)0 you know, Jack, what physic is?"
Jack nodded, and pantomimically expressed his ac-
quaintance with medicine by making a horrible grimace.
" Well, but speak out, Jack," said my father, " use
your tongue, Let AB hear what you know about it.
What's physic?"
" Naity stuff," said Jack, " in a spoon.,,
w
"orin a ine•glass, Jack,
" Yes," said my father, or
in a cup. Very good. And do you remember my foot-
boy, Jak,c waolused to carry out the physic in a basket?"
Jack nodded again.
" Should you like to take his place, and carry out the
medicine in the same way?"
" I—don't—know," drawled Jack, sympathetically
sucking his finger, while ho ogled the little oval confee-
lion' which my father still retained in, its old position.
" Do you think you could do it?"
Jack was silent.
" Would you try to learn?"
" I learn two things," mumbled Jack, "my duty to-
wards God, and my duty towards my neighbour."
" Not very appropriate that," muttered Mr. Pestle.
" Not much either way," answered my father, and he
resumed the examination.
" Well, Jack, suppose I was to take you into nay ser-
vice, and Iced and clothe you; should you like a smart
now livers ?"
Yes."
1 " And a new hat?"
yes.,
" And if I were to Ore you a pair of now shoes, would
you take care of them?"
" Yes," answered Jack, " and walk in the same all the
"a 33 of my life."
hi" There;" said my father, giving Postlo a nudge with
s elbow, " what do you think of that?"
" A mere random shot," answered Mr. Postle.
" Not at all," said my father, again turning to his
Pr°f6g6. " Well, Jack, I have a great mind to give ou
a tria
good bed T
4f I take you into the house, and find
clothes
and provide for you altoge , and comfortable mea and suit of
ther,ls,would you Promise to
behave Yourself ?"
an" They did promise and vow three things in mY
swered Jack,
and all " first, that I should renounce the devil
his works
44
1, tie Wall
Ye," cried my father, hastily, for u take
'iis`nnthg, "we know ell that. But would Yeuil7l,s for
,c,re of the basket, Jack, and leave the medic your
"1° neighbours at the right houses, and attend to •
duty?"

jack,
::" My duty towards my neighbour," answeredsii
Earn
nisl utoi_ove tam as well as myself, and to do to 5 the
ould they should do unto me. Give u
loz,
cr,ge."
My father gave him the lez an
e,which the lad eagerly
Popped into his mouth, oecasiongallytaking it out agaul
to lock edgeways at its thinness till all was Pile'

"Yes, • . . . •
rate, the ,unfortunate
mind 18 made up," said my father.
'co
a little tunfortunate creature shall have a °hand"
" swath
.elooking after at first, he will do very we the
Muchd
blu- of the after interest of the tale traw on h
uere of eitlek. But we have not space to followis
... career, or to make more than one other extract. The
__
paupers of the village became dissatisfied with the push
`3O , and he speedily becomes unpopular. Here is an
instance:_
ft la,s.,
.AVMer Hopkins bobbled into the surgery, with foul
here
rather on her face. Her lips were comPresseu'
and a red angry spot in the middle of each sallow check,
.12 anger glimmered in her dark black
1 a4nderbox. She eye, like a spark
e Como to return the bottles."
spoke harshly and abruptly.
phial after
"very good," said my father, receiving -
phial from the cankered woman, with as much courtesy
and humility as it he had been honoured and obliged by
Haw
custom.
is Yenr largeness?"
" I hope the medicine has done you good.
" As bad , ,
t, I .4a ever.
co am sorry to hear it," said my. father. " But your
_ complaint is chronic, and requires time for its treatment.
By-bye we shall see an amendment."
e shall see no such thing,"
ar'nt said the shrew; " I
going to take any more physic."
Noe
" No. It's good for noteing, or you wouldn't give it
away gratis."
with
so much y father's face r
flushed slightly—as whose would not?
wi
all the
thrown into it, though but meta-
phorically,the drauehts and embrocations he had
L 1 supplied her with for the last six months?

"That's all the bottles," she said "and there," throw.
ing a paper bag on the counter, " there's the corks."

" Pshaw!" said he to himself," I am as unreasonable
as the old woman! Poor creatures, that have hardly
daily bread enough to justify a thanksgiving; and to ex-
pect from them a grace before and after physic! To be
sure they might bo more civil; and yet, poor, ragged,
infirm' disappointed in life, and diseased, what worldly
sugar have they in their cup to.sweeten their dispo-
sitions?. What cream of comfort, or soothing sytup, to
make them mild, affable, and good-limmoureci? And be-
sides, what do they meet with themselves from society
at large but practical rudeness? Scorned and shunned,
because penniless and shabby; oppressed, snubbed, and
wronged, because weak and powerless; neglected and
insulted, because old and ugly; and unceremoniously
packed off at last, as no longer ornamental, mstul, or
profitable, to that human lumber•hole—the workhouse!
Accustomed to endure poverty without pity, age with-
out reverence, want without succour, pain without sym-
pathy, what wonder if their minds get warped with
their frames, and as sensitive to slights and affronts as
their bodies to damps, and cold winds. If their judg-
ments become as harsh as their voices, or if their tem-
pers sharpen with their features? What wonder if their
prejudices stiffen with their limbs, their v, hims increase
with their wrinkles, their repinings with their infirmi-
tnay, if their very hearts harden with their fates, or
theiries patience fails utterly under the tedious sufferings of
,• some chronic disease, which Art can only palliate, whilst
Hope, perhaps, promised a cure? No, no, we must not
expect too mach from human nature under such trials,
and so many privations.

p MIT Of t 11E1 ecohiallnuni::'::3GßFwApiah
iEl.cuhCs
long been antici-
paTteldlillEFTTnech Ministry is at length announced by
the Moaiteur, and M. Drouyn de Lhue s resumes the
office of Minister of Foreign Affairs in place of isl. de
Turgot, whilst M. Magni) ie Promoted to the Depart-
ment of Public Works. M. Drouyn de Lhuys is already
boai,,sejvCiineUDßAYN:ALs.
known both as Foreign Minister and as French Ambas-
sador in this country, to be a man of respectable abilities,
who has more than office testified his fidelity to Louie
Napoleon by taking wh_een no one else wculd ac-
tin
.eepecially with Great
cept it. It is probable that his disposed to maintain
on the independence
the pacific relations odf the French Government with the
Europe, and littßritain,
le reliance
trhesotughefwEe
of his character or the ofextenth his influence. But wo
are the more ready to view his appointment with satis-
faction as it has at least ti
le the advantage
Pt'preventing M.
Foreign Department,
to be the object of his ambition;
which was understood
do Persigny from occuPYlag
of the utmost importance
that
h ld
of France sou not be conducted
the foreign relations
identified himself with the
and at this moment it is
by a man who has
bad been reported that M. de
wildest schemes. It .
raised from the office of
that of Ministre d'Etat—cor-
Foreign Minister to
Turgot was to be
held by the Due do Bassani)
respondingthe to E themp err 00 sr t Napoleon• but this change is
be rewarded for having placed
how M. do Target is toe
er
the
Government he has served.
not yet officially announced, and: it remains to be seen
the name he bears und
to
s believe that these modifi-
n t Cloud have taken place at
cations of the Cabinet ofi
of a more importantteeterexpected, powers
Powers will again become a
continental
ursioo
Parßin to
s, a en, the
hod triwumphare-
-1
Strasburg,
n
int where as
matter of anxious consideration.
the rapid exe The late exhibition at
entry of Louis Napoles
that the army and the clergy
calved with all the homage
chief, are probably the pro-
events and ceremonies morn
could pay to a victorious
cursors and the foretaste of .
exalt his personal dignity and to
e we believe the reel object of the
directly calculated to
consolidate his power.
bring to a close by a personal in-
Baden journey was to
terview the negotiation
which had for some time been
pending for the marriage
of Louis Napoleon with the
Princess of Wasa; and if any symbolical meaning is to
be attributed to the bridge thrown
to it imover liesthe no moreßh than e
French army,
b
we hope .it head of the French Govesna-
closer connexion betweenw :
reigns on the opposite shore
Napoleon's nearest rola-,
ment aad the family which
who are already some of LouisDe Duchess Stephanie, of
tions. The Dowager
family of the E
napress
Beauharnais, a member of the
Baden, was the eldest daughter of the last Count de
and adopted as such by Napo-
Josephine's first husband,
ence one of the Germ
Baden, who became in consequence Napo-
leon. She was married in 1806 to the Grand Duke of
fmnrahtreirmeoldnial
a granddaughter the
Confederation of the Rhine. It is to , of
Princes most devoted to the influence of Franca in an
Princeand the issue of the Grand Duchess Stephanie
views of Louis Napoleon have been
of Fri ass,
son eol
daughter married Gustavus,
Gustavus IV., ex-King of Sweden,
of Wasa, a thisyoung
marriage is now the Princess Caroline
thtautrntehde;
favourahl d
lady of whom report speaks moston
r.l y, en
the ..'" August
who will complete her 19th year _
related to Louis Napoleon
next. She is consequently
descended by her-
by the Beauharnais family, andte though now father's side from the legitinia into Prince of NV de-
throned, royal family of Sweden. t .
n the Austrian asa'
her father, commands a regimeni
its ser-
vice; but the family is connected by
of
Europe.inter-marriages.
houses
with several of the reigning
alliance would seem, therefore, to be both politic and
suitable to the present position and the future views of
the Prince President, and we understand that the inter-
view which recently took place at Baden between the
high contracting parties was so encouraging that the
Princess immediately applied herselito master the tenets
of the Roman Catholic faith, having hitherto professed
the Lutheran creed, in order that she may be received
into the bosom of that church of which Louis Napoleon
is so exemplary a member. It is, therefore, not im-
probable that among the ceremonies which will contri-
bute during this present summer to the diversion of the
French people, a wedding will take place; and the world
may speculate on the effect of such a marriage upon
the proclamation of the Empire, and the revival of all
the pretensions of the Bonapartist dynasty. Certain it
is that no internal obstacle or impediment will interfere
with the assumption of any title or rank Louis Napoleon
may think fit to adopt, and, as to his power, that is
already entire and absolute. For ourselves, speaking
with a view to the general interests of this country and
of Europe, such it change would appear to be a matter
of indifference; for what signifies a now fashion in the
trappings of a Court after the dismal change from free-
dom to servitude has been accomplished and endured by
the nation? Neither is it material whether the mar-
rive precedes the Empire, or the Empire the marriage,
or mar-
riage
what road Louis Napoleon and his adherents
attain the transcendant honours of a Papal coronation.
gut it is by no means equally clear that this series of
events will be looked upon with indifference by the con-
tinental Powers. The marriage of Lnuis Napoleon
would obviously be the most important step to the esta-
blishment of an hereditary Power in France, and such
a power would ere long, and perhaps immediately,
place itself on an Imperial throne. To recognise such
a power, with all its hereditary claims, is to sur-
render the principles of legitimate monarchy still
professed by the northern Courts of Europa; to re-
fuse to recognise it is at once to afford to that Power
a pretext for any undertaking it may meditate
against the security of the continent. We place but
little reliance upon a document published by one of our
eentemperaries,
cud purporting to be an abstract of a
treaty, concluded on the 20th of May last, between
Russia, Austria, and Prussia, for the purpose of 'deter-
mining the line of conduct they are resolved to pursue
in presence of these doubtful and delicate contingencies.
Until the existence of such a treaty, in the terms here
employed, be more positively coufirmed, we must enter-
tain strong doubts of the existence of such a compact; for
it would be an act of rashness and extravagant impolicy
inconsistent with the course heretofore pursued by Eu-
rope towards Louis Napoleon. We know cf no suffi-
cient grounds for the premature and exclusive recogni-
tion of the rights of the Count do Chambord to the
Crown of France, by foreign Powers, before a single
effort has been made by any party among the French
themselves to recal him. We can conceive nothing so
likely to accelerate the assumption of absolute and
hereditary Imperial power by the heir of Bonaparte as
the attempt of foreign States to define and limit
rights which ho affects to hold by the will of the
people. And lastly, if the Empire be proclaimed, as it
probably will be, this officious stroke of policy would at
once serve as a pretence for the interruption of the pa-
cific relations of Europe, and might land to the most
serious consequences. On these grounds we are led to
distrust the accuracy •of our Contemporary's in-
formation; for although the correspondence be-
tween Russia and Austria which we ourselves
published in the spring undoubtedly led to
the same conclusion, and might produce the same effects,
yet we can hardly imagine that the Sovereigns and
statesmen of the Northern Courts are deliberately pre-
pared to renew by a solemn treaty not only the terms of
the Rely Alliance but the coalition of Pillnitz. We do
not doubt that explanations have been exchanged be-
tween the three Northern Courts on the subject of the fu-
ture policy of France, and that they are perfectly united
and agreed upon the course to be adopted by them in
the event of any aggressive movement on the part of
Louis Napoleon; but eve have strong reason to doubt
that any positive terms have born adopted beforehand
to regulate and confine their future conduct, and still
more do we question the existeace of a convention
which might provoke the very dangers it is designed to
obviate.

FESTIVAL OF THE THREE CHOIRS OF WORCESTER,
IZ HEEFORD, AND GLOUCESTER.—HEREFOR.D,
It has been fixed to hold the next festival of the three choirs
at Hereford, in the week commencing Monday, September
13, and the arrangements are now in a forward state, under
the able management of the conductor, Mr. Townsend Smith.
The festival will occupy up to Friday night, the 17th Sep-
tember, and is likely to prove more attractivceterheavaen N:avnHeueyororf,
its predecessors. The following engagements have already
been
Mrs.
E nde completedrsh o
Missthe vocallrilli
'Williams,a department
sm: -la
Sims
R
Formes, Mr. Lockey, and Mr. Phillips. Madame Novelle
goes direct from Hereford to Madrid, where she has an en-
gagement at the Opera, commencing on the 24th September.
The following are the stewards who have accepted office for
the festival ;—The Right Rev. Dr. Hampden, Bishop of Here-
ford •, Rev. W. S. N. Penoyre, Lord Rodney, Mr. Money
Kyrie ; Mr. D. D. Peploe, of Gemstone ; Mr. J. P. Corbett,
of Salop ; and Mr. T. Evans, of Sutton Court. The pro-
gramme is-not yet completed.
THE CARD CHEATING CASE.—There is no truth
in the report of the capture of Johnny Broome, which has
" gone the round of the papers." The paragraph might have
been an " artful dodge " to throw the police off the scent.
Superintendent Flanagan, of the East Sussex constabulary,
received received a letter from Inspector Morton (the
°Tel" bur-
made himself so active in the capture of the
bur-
glars on Saturday last from Dover, to the effectUi cttthaet
phoer at
two other police constables had "blocked up al
so that it would be impossible for Broome ge had been
France, whither it was ascertained that his 1 ga
6 1 hid himself
convoyed. Morton believed that Broome h
in the fleighhourheed."—krightort Gaeta.
to get over to

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE
GOODWOOD RACES.—TwurISDAY.
The "glories" of the Cup Day at Goodwood never
passed mere brilliantly than yesterday; the extreme
fineness of the weather, the number and rank of the
visitors, and the excellence of the racing, combined to
render it one of the most successful we remember to have
witnessed. The early special trains from London,
Brighton, Portsmouth, &c., brought an immense con-
course of spectators, many hundreds of whom, unable to
obtain conveyances from the station, did not reach the
course until after the two first races were decided.
The " House party" at Goodwood was increased by
the presence of his Royal Highness the Duke of Parma,
and besides many ethers in the
" privileged corner of
the Stud," we remarked his Imperial Highness Prince
Peter of Oldenburgh, his Serene Highness Duke
Bernhard cf Saxe Weimar, his Royal Highness the
Duke cf Cambridge, their Serene Hiezhness, s Prince
end PiILIMPS3 Ed and of Saxe Wcitna,r, his Eecel-
teecy Baren Biannow, the Duke and Ducheaa of
Beaufort tend Lady Henrietta Semerset,
the Duke
and Duchess of Bedford, the Duke and Duchess ni
Richmond aed Lady Cecilia Gordon Lennox. the Mee-
chionoss of Ailesbury, the Marquis of Norreanhy, the
Marquis of Exact', the Marquis of Wateriere, the
Marquis of . Winchester, the Maequis cf Bath, th°
Marquis of .Drogheda, the Islerepie of Granby, ALP.,
ofth the
sa lr
t an
,
Chesterfield, the Earl and Countess of March, the Earl
the CEnuarnltcosfswoiiitou, Derby, the Earl and Countess
the Earl and Countess of
Bruce, the Countess Flahault and Madile. Elphinstone
de Fiahaula the Earl of Anneeley, the Earl of Zettex,d,
the Earl ot Jersey, the Earl of Uxbridge, Viscount,
Enfield, Viscount Clifilen, Viscount Maidstone Lord
George Manners, Lord Ribblesdalc, Lord and Lady
Alexander Lc nnox, Lord George Leeinee, Lord William
Lennox, Lord Henry Gordon Lennox, Lord George
Gordon Lennox' General the Honourable George
Anson. and Mrs. Anion, Colcnel the Honourable Cecil
Forester, Honourable F. Lewley, Honourable F. Vil-
liers, Mr. and Lady Sophia Des VtillX, Mr. and Mrs.
John Stanle
3', Colonel Peel, Captain the Honourable G.
Rous, Mr. Percy Williams, Capt. Pettat, Air. Urevillo, Ms.
Payne, Hon, P. W. Talbot, Major the Hoeourable Horace
Pitt, Colonel Newton, Colonel Cox, and Mr. Milner.
Among other fashionable company in the stand, there
were also Viscount Tcrrington, Viscount Exmouth,
Viscount Jocelyn, Viscount Andover, Lord Adolphus
Fitzelarence, Lord Stanhope, Lard Robert Pelham
Clinton, Lord Paget, Lord Frederick Fitzroy, Lord Fo-
rester, the Ladies Anun and Catherine Loftus, Lord
Foley and Lady Adeliza, Fitzalan Howard, Lord Adol-
phus Vane, Baron do Sternberg, Hon. E. Petre, Hon. G.
W. Wiles, Hon. Leopold Ellie, Hon. S'range Jocelyn,
Lord John Fitzroy, Lord John Scott, Hon. Henry Fo-
rester, Hon. Charles Lyon, Major the Hon. R. Need-
ham, Hon. W. Scarlett, Hoe. F. Stoner, Hon. John
Fortescue, Sir Robert and Lady Pigott, Sir Willism
Fraser, Mrs. Sir George Armytage, Mr. Knightley, Mrs.
W. Heathcote, Mr. Hubert de Burgh, l Cap fa *n Clifford
and Miss Fanny Clifford, Colonel II ;ruby,
Lumley, Augustus Lumley, Webster, Wigrain, Sloane
Stanley, Gratwicke, Norman Macdonald, Mills, Meiklam,
H. Fitzroy, G. Fitzroy, C. Sanson, Fitzjambe, &c.
Tee racing, which appeared to give the highest sa-
tisfaction to the illustrious foreigners,
came off as
follows:
The Sussex Stakes of 25 sovs. each; for
two yrs old
colts, Bst 71b; fillies, Bst 41b; 31b allowed, &c.; a
winner before starting to carry 51b extra; the winner
of the Levant or Molcombe Stakes 7lbof e both bib
extra. T.Y.C.
Mr. H. Drew's Defiance, Sat 91b (Rogers) 1
Sir R. Pigot's Belle Sauvage f, Bst 41b (Flatman) 2
Betting-7 to 2on Defiance, who won in a canter Ly
five lengths.
First Year of the Bentinck Memorial Stakes, a triennial
stake of 10 soya, each for two yrs old; colts, Bst 71b;
fillies, Sst 41b. T.Y.C.
Duke of Richmond's Pharos (Fiatman) I
Duke of Bedford's Sittingbourne (F. Butler) 2
Mr. Bowes's Auld Acquaintance (Holmes) 3
Mr. J. M. Stanley's Belgravia (A. Day) 4
Duke of Richmond's William Rufus ~.(Terealeman.) 5
Colonel Peel's Talfourd (Rogers) 6
Betting-6 to 5 agst Pharos, and sto 2 agst Sitting-
bourne. William Rufus, taking the lead at starting, and
having Belgravia and Pharos in waiting, made play until
half way within the distance, when he gave way to Sit-
tingbourne, who was challenged by Pharos fifty yards
from home and defeated by half a length, Sittingbourne
beating Auld Acquaintance by two lengths. Ran in 1
min. 18 sec.
Tho Racing Stakes of 50 sow. each, for three years old;
colts, Bst 71b; and fillies, Sit 41h; winners extra. One
mile.
Lord Exeter's Stockwell, Bst 131 b (Norman) 1
Duke of Bedford's Maidstone, Bst 71b (F. Butler) 2
Sir R. Pigot's Father Thames, Bst 71b ...... (A. Day) 3
Lord Eglintoe's Lucie, Bst 711 (Marlow) 4
Betting-5 to 4on Stockwell. Father Thames took
a strong lead at starting and made the running to the
distance, where it was taken up by Stockwell, who went
on with it to the end, and won in a canter by a length.
Run in 1 min. 44 sec.
Sweepstakes of 200 toys. each, for two yrs old fillies,
Bst 71b each, 31b and 51b allowed, &e. T.Y.C.
Mr. Greville's Exhibition, and Mr. W. 11. Brook's In-
Una) divided the stakes, and Incense walked over.
The Molecomb Stakes ot 50 sovs. each, for two yrs old
colts, Bst 71b, and fillies Set 41b; winners extra; the
second to save his stake. T.Y.C.
Mr. Howard's Elmathorpe, Bst 7lb (A. Day) 1
Mr. Payne's Estrella, Sst 41b (Flatman) 2
Lord Exeter's Margaret of Anjou, Bst 41b (Norman) 3
Betting-9 to 2on Elmathorpe, and 25 to 1 against his
winning this and the Derby.
The race was never in doubt, the favourite waiting
on Margaret of Anjou to the distance, and winning in a
canter by two lengths. Run in 1 min. 18 sec.
The Goodwood Cup, value 300 sovs., the rest in specie,
by subscription of 20 soya. each, with 100 added, the
second horse to receive 100 sow. out of the stakes,
and the third 50 sm., the winner to pay 10 soya. to
the Judge. Two miles and a half.
Mr. Morris's Kingston (carried 7st 61b).- (Flatman) 1
Mr. Lloward's Little Harry, 3 yrs, fist 131b(A.Cowley) 2
Mr. J. M. Stanley's Teddington, 9st 31b (F. Butler) 3
Mr. Merry's Hobbie Noble, 3 yrs, ist 41h ... (Knott) 4
Mr. A. Nicholl's Newminster, 4 yrs, est 31b (A. Day) 0
Mr. Greville's Frantic, 3 yrs, Tat 41b..•... (Charlton) 0
Mr. Meikiam's Stilton, 3 yrs, 7st 41b ........... , (Lye) 0
Lord Palmerston's Buckhound, 3 7st 41b (MotOn) 0
M. Aunaont's Hervine, 4 yrs, Est Illb ..... .. . . (Wells) 0
Mr. Osborne's Allegro (car. 6st 121 b) j. Osborne) 0
,
Betting-7 to 4 agst Stilton, sto 1 asst
6 to 1 agst Kingston, 6 to 1 agst:Hobbie Noble, 10 to Little Harry,
6
agst Teddington, 12 to 1 agst Newminster, and 20 to 1
each agat any other. all settled into
Hobbie Noble, as soon as they ha''
tee next to the
places, took the lead, followed by ger' ' Hera andcz, Fran-
latter being Buckthorn, Allegro, and
close array.
tic last, but the whole lot lying
in
very f
the course,
They ran in this order to the turn out
O
where Buckthorn went three or four lengths in advance_eybefore
of Hobbie Noble, the latter being twice as in
et an
Allegro, who was in the van of the rucl. They went
round the extreme turn in this order; on re-eppearing
Little Harry was third, Allegro, who
waa then fourth,
nster, and
directly after giving way to Hervine,
Ne
desssrai being the
Kingston, Stilton and Frantic and Hernan
into the
It
last three, Buckthorn carried the
rnning
nobbie Noble
half-mile post, and there gave way, pad the distance
leading' Kings
again obtained the lead, which ho held te.
where he was passed by Little Harry, me with the
ton, and Teddington, &c,; a fine race ho
trio ended in favour of Kingston by half a length. Little" of length;
Harry heating Teddington by three partsahothers
beaten Noble bad fourth, Frantic fifth, and t
beaten off. Ran in five minutes.
The second year of the First Bontincklaiemorial Stakes
of 10 sews. each, for three yrs old; colts, Sat 71b;
fillies, Bst 41b. Gratwick Stakes Course.
Duke of Richmond's Harbinger (Flatman) 1
Lord Ribblesdale's The Nabob ............... (Rogers) 2
Lord Derhy's Longbow (F. Butler) 0
Betting—Even on Harbinger, and 5 to 4 agat Long-
bow.
Harbinger took the load, made all the running, and
won very easily by a length. Longbow jumped round
the moment the flag was lowered, went on the wrong
side of the post, and there not being time to get into the
course again, was not persevered with. Time, 2 rein.
46 sec.
The Duke of Richmond's Plato of 100 sovs. New Mile.
Mr. Jacines's Vivandiere, 4 yrs, 6st 101b...„,(tve110 1
Mr. E. Parr's Sanita, 3 yrs, Est 71b ............ (Hiett) 2
Mr. W. Hale's Merry Peal, 4 yrs, 7st 411) (T. Smith)
The following also started, but were not placed:—
Landgrave, 6 yrs, Sat 131 b (F.Butler); Radnlphns abed,
7st loib (G. Oates); Catalpa, 4 yrs, 7st 51b (Flat' magen)•
Newport, 6 yrs, 7st 21b (G. E. Sharp); Miss Hayes,a
yrs, 7st (Doyle); Timid Fawn, 4 yrs, let (Charlton);
No Chance, 4 yrs, 6st 121 b (J. Goeterl; Alfred the
Great, 3 yrs, Est 31b (A. Cowley); The Bishop 3 yrs,
Est (Kendall); Sagacity, aged, sst 131 b (Toovey' ); I);
Venison, out of Passion, 3 yrs, sst 101 b (s. Staggles);
Coral, 3 yrs, sst 416 (Palmer); eh c by Birdcatcher, out
of Hecate, 3 yrs, sst 41b (Rickards); Plinnstead, 3 yrs,
sst 41b (Carroll); and Knavery, 2 yrs, 4st 121 b (Bundy)
Bettiag-6 tel 1 each against Alfred the Great, Catalpa,
Radulphus, and Plumstead-9 to 1 eget Timid Fawn'
and 10 to 1 each against Sanaa and Miss Hayes. d
Won by a head; a length and a half between secoun,
and third, Timid Fawn a bad fourth. Ran in I gni
49 'tee.
old. Ali!e
Sweepstakes of 50 soya. each, for three yrs
and a half.
.. walked over.
Mr. Moreis's Kingston .................. ......
.o__. Craven
Tho Anglesey Plate of 50/. Gentlemen hi
Course.
..... ~,(Owner) 1
Captain Lane's Agis, aged, list
, ,altane (Capt. Pena° 2
Ld. Waterford's Roller, 4 yrs, :133„,,1b (Capt. Little) 3
Mr, Magenis's Caloric, 3 Yr!, 1.1,1 (Capt. Weelys) 4
Count Batthy rataack,
any's St.
__ckts yr:3, 1-st (Owner) 5
Mr. H. Elwes's Jahn of 13,:1177 and 2 to 1 agst
Betting-5 to 1 agst.:ll%o lead, which she kept ter
Caloric jumped and,,e_
gave
way
to Aeis, who was
about half a mile, b
and won by a healneck between
never
never after headed,
second and thilf. too sovs. each, for three yrs old; colts,
Bst
sweepstakesnd Sst 21b. One mile. (3 Subs.)
71b; a
Duke of Rio .
• haiona s Harbinger walked over.
ST. LEGER,
5 to 1 agst Stockwell (take 6 to 1.)