The Sun.
London, England, 1863-08-21 00:00:00

TIIII,7SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EVENING, AUGUST 21, 1863,

terious Lady, Rose, Theobalda, Lady do Trafford, Claxton,
Shylock, Esa Bouquet, Fauconberg, Greville, Mother
Carey's Chicken, Ignorance filly, The Shaffer, Exile of
Erin ct4t, Frondeur, and Alice Leigh.
Betting-3 to 1 agsc, Harvest Mall, Bto 1 each apt
Bangle and Dawdle.

All got well off, and came together to the distance,
when Bangle drew away, and, after a good race, won by a
length.
The Members' Plate of 50 sovs, given by the Members for
the city of York ; 3-yr-olds, Tat; four, Bst 31b ; five and
upwards, Bst 101 b; m and g allowed 31b. Maiden allow-
ances. The winner to be sold for £5O. Three-quarters of
a mile.
Mr. Greaves's Sledmere, 3 yrs, Bst (H. Covey)- 1
Mr. T. Raymond's General Birrie, 4 yrs, 7st (Challoner) 2
Betting-6 to 4on General Bixie.
Sledmere took the lead, and won easily by two lengths.
The First Year of the Tenth Aske Produce Stakes of 50
each, h ft, for 2-year-olds ; colts, Bst 71b; fillies, Bst 41b.
Maiden allowances. T.Y.C. 7 subs.
Mr. J. Osborne's Dr. Roake, Bst 41b (31b) ....(Osborne) 1
Lord Zetland's Revival, Bst 111) (Snowden) 2
Mr. Jackson's Prescription, B,t llb (31b) (Doyle) 3
Betting-5 to 4 agst Dr. Rooke, 2to 1 agst
Dr. Rooke made all tilt:, running, and won a good race by
half a length.

LATEST BETTING ON THE COURSE.
ST. LEGER,.
11 to 2 agst Queen Bertha (taken and offered)
11 to 2 agst Lord Clifden (taken and offered)
6to 1 agst Ranger (taken)
9to 1 agst Avenger (taken)
100 to 7 agst Golden Pledge (taken)

PLYMOUTH, DEVONPORT, AND CORNWALL
RACES.—THURSDAY.
The Trial Stakes of 5 soya each, with 30 added. One mile.
Rubini ............................................ 1
Peru
Artless colt
Three ran,
The United Service Plate (Handicap). Two miles. 6 subs.
Sir Geoffrey b), aged, lOst 81b
The Plymouth Plate (Handicap) of 60 soya. One mile.
The Dictator, 3 yrs, 7st 31b 1
Southampton, aged, Bst
Mysterious, 4 yrs, Bst Bib
Five ran.
The Saltram Stakes (Handicap) of 15 soya each, 7 ft, and
3if declared. About two miles. 39 subs, 27 declared
Hampton Court, 3 yrs, 6st 91b
Fontenoy, 3 yrs, 7st 111 b
Icarus, 5 yrs, Tat 41b

Three ran.
The Ladies' Plata of 30 soya. Half a mile.
Abernethy, 3 yrs
Kennett, 3 yrs

Three ran.

ASSIZE INTELLIGENCE.

NORTHERN CIRCUIT ,—LIVERPOOL, Ma. 20.
lCivtr, COURT.
(Before Mr. Justice Mellor.)
BARBER V. FENTON.
This was an action for a breach of promise of marriage.
The defendant denied the promise.
The Attorney-General for the County Palatine (Mr.
James, Q.C.), Mr. Temple, Q.C., and Mr. Mil ward appeared
for the plaintiff; and Mr. Bevil', Q.C. (of the Home Cir-
cuit), specially retained, and Mr. T. Jones for the detendant.
The learned Attorney-General for the County Palatine,
in opening the case, said the plaintiff, who sued by her next
friend, was the daughter of a highly respectable cotton
broker, residing at Broughton, near Manchester. Mr. Bar-
ber had four children, the youngest of whom was the
plaintiff, who was 18
years old in Dec. last. The case was
one which he was sure would enlist the warmest sympathy
of the
jury. The young lady had been brought up with
the tenderest care, and her affections had been won by
the defendant, who had persisted in his courtship for 18
months, and had then abandoned her to the scorn of the
world. In the autumn of 1861 there was a ball given by
the officers of the Rifles at Manchester, at which the
plaintiffwas accompanied by her friends, and there for
the first time she had met the defendant. The defendant
was the non of a
gentleman well known at one time in
the county,
having sat in Parliament for the town
of Rochdale, near which he resided, and where
he
was an influential banker. The defendant
was a young gentleman of considerable means and of large
expectations during his father's life, which had lately been
realised by old Mr. Fenton's death. The defendant was in
a position of considerable wealth, and was 27 years of age.
There was nothing therefore in the respective ages of the
parties against such an union. Soon after the ball there
was a cricket match in the neighbourhood, at which the
plaintiff and the defendant, with their respective friends,
were present. The acquaintanceship was then renewed,
and soon after the plaintiff, accompanied by her brother,
met the defendant at a concert. During the concert the
plaintiff's brother was taken ill and obliged to leave the
room, and he requested the defendant to pay her any atten-
tion she might require. The defendant, as any other gen-
tleman would have done, showed her courteous attention,
saw her to her cab, and accompanied her home. This led
to further intimacy, and about the 10th of November, at
another concert, the defendant proposed marriage to her.
She, flattered no doubt by the proposal, had hesitated, as
most ladies would a little, and required some little time.
The defendant afterwards learned that the plaintiff was
going to Bolton, and he waited at the train to see her, and
then he obtained her consent to his propose', and the only
thing was to obtain the consent of the respective families.
The matter was discussed by their respective friends, and
the engagement was confirmed. The defendant obtained
the consent of his own father, and was congratulated on the
coming event, and the plaintiff was received as his future
wife by his friends. Her father thought her too young,
and that the engagement had better be postponed. The
defendant, however, was anxious that the marriage should
take place, and it was first arranged to take place in the
spring and then in the autumn of 1862, against the wish of
the defendant. During all thin time the defendant was ac-
customed to pass much of his time at the house of Mr.
Gardner, the husband of plaintiff's sister, and no attention
could be more devoted than he bestowed upon her. He con.
tinually wrote to her. When absent in Devonshire, his
n he (the learned counsel) could not
let ors to her aboun fed in terms of affection. He afterwards
went to Ireland, and whether he there met some lady who
staying
with her, and there
to a crisis. There,
nsthemta came
of the plaintiff's sister,
say,had wonbut
it hisw aasff
ae c tifacto
that on his return his attention be-
came less, Mrs. elardner was in the month of May last at
Southport,asasmweoulltdt
lappear
pdpai neffaderr
efar heroe sistermes bthee twweea
evidences
the defendant told her, to her utmost horror, that he had
ceased to love her—nay, that he never had loved her, and
that marry her ko would not, and he left her there under
the deepest distress. Mrs. Gardner wrote to him about the
dreadful state in which her sister was placed. He pro-
mised to go and see her, but from that time to the present
she had never seen him again. He would call attention to
some of the defendane's letters as evidence of the terms of
affection in
which he addressed her. The first letter was
dated the 16th of November t

will you not? I got home all right last night,
" Nov. 16, 1851.
it Dear Edith,—You will let me call you by that sweet
name now,
as I always do. I am such a lucky dog. I told Hannah
gWagsemaletnsl tetled between your father and
on condition they would not
andtol
iany Joeoonf
one
o till
ei t
n
myself. They wished no end of good things in store for
us. Hannah says you must come and stay at Chaseiey as
the slightest suspicion. Hannah
will write and ask you herself when the proper time
told
dn
thorn,
o it is,
notal l
havingsettl settled. They were so surprised when I
comes, I think. I can hardly realise the fact that I am
yours and you are mine. It seems like a pleasant dream
—too good to be true. I begin to believe that love is holy
now, as I said my prayers last night for the first time
for ever such a time. Don't make fun of me it I
tell you what my prayer was. I asked that our love might
not be a swift flame burnt out in a short time, brit one that
would burn stronger as we grew older and know each other
better.
g yet, Edith, and I am a very
strange wo ought to remember that we have
Youfell o awr, e
but very young
hound ourselves together by a stronger tie than any earthly
ceremony. I registered a solemn vow in Heaven when I
took your hand in the cab that I would love and protect you
all the days of my life, and I do sincerely hope and trust
that we shall ever love each other as we do now, and never
have to recall our vows. All my thoughts are with you now,
Edith. The time will roll slowly on until you come back
again. I have made all sorts of good resolves for the future,
and am going to work like a brick, and give up billiards and
smoking. So I think we have a bright future before us.
At any rate, if clouds do come over our path, we will love
each other all the more, and nerve ourselves to brave the
storm. You must not quiz my letter, as I have dotted
down all my thoughts, and have not thought of anything
but your own sweet self. I don't think I shall be able to
write to-morrow, as I have to shoot for our battalion prizes
in the morning; perhaps it will be the last time I shall do
such a thing, so you must not blame me. 1 intend to resign
at Christmas. You will think 1 write much more seriously
than I talk, but I cannot help feeling how much I love You
now that I am separated from you. You must not shrink
from telling me anything now; all my thoughts are open to t
you. I Leal tell anything you wish to know, but I must
wind up now, as it is time I went to the train. I ref9l:l
yours only, and for ever, " ROBEELT FENTON.
The learned counsel then read a number of other letters
from the defendant to the pleintiff, which were full oflerms
of playful affection, were extremely well written, and were
the letters of an educated and sensible gentleman. lie read
them to show what had been the plaintiff's loss in losing a
husband so calculated to make her happy Then came the
letter breaking off the match, written to the defendant whi!e
she was at Southport.
The letter was as follows :--'
" Crimble-hall, May 29, 1863.
"Dearest Edith,--We came back from Ireland last Tues-
day, and had a very quiet passage' This is the first oppor-
tunity I have had of writing without being interrupted, E 0
I will avail myself of it, and explain to you more fully the
subject of our last conversation at Southport, When first we
met I felt interested in you, and afterwards the feeling
deepened, until it ripened into an aff-,ction, which by an ace,
of your brother Charley I was forced to acknowledge before
the world ere its strength had in the slightest degree been
tested. I tell you candidly, had not Charley so meanly
spread such calumnious reports abroad about his own sister
I should never have sought to obtain an avowal of love from
you until I had tried the endurance and intensity of my
own love; but the knowledge that I had been the means
(though innocent) of bringing even the slightest breath of
slander over your fair fame urged me on to treasures th a
ought to have been well considered before being put into
execution; so, you e. e have to thank Charley for our
s.- r rzut state of wee.r
uah)Pe.Et lin. T lie xt:,'7elty ci going irglgfd,

the pleasant, and I may say selfish, thought of having some
one to love me only, and take an interest in all that I did,
and the many other prerogatives of betrothal, kept up toe
delusion for some time, until atlast I awoke from my dream
to wonder whether one could really and truly be in love
when he found the ties and duties which attend such a state
irksome. Alas I I found that, I had deceived both myself
and others, that I had eng Ted another's affections without
being able to reciprocate, and the only way I could make
amends for my former thoughtless impetuosity was to try
and make myself love you, and this I did to the best of my
powers for weeks and months, until I found that love could
not be forced whatever one did. Then I would have told you
my case, had not an unforeseen calamity come over us all
which left both you and Nelly prostrate in health. There,
now you know all. I have told you all that has weighed on
myrnind and made me low-spirited and miserable for months,
reckles 4 too, rushing into pleasure to try in vain to drown
care, I have the greatest respect and esteem for you,
Edith, and think that you have such a kind, affectionate
heart and self-sacrificing devotion, and are so amiable and
good-natured, that you would make any man happy who
had the good fortune to love you with his whole heart, but
it he did not do so would live a life of misery. What happi-
ness could there be in a union where all the love was on one
side? It would end in neglect by one, and constant upbraiding
by the other. No I believe me, it is better fur us both tiat
we should pause and retrace our steps than rush into ties
that m'ght bind two opposite charact era for life, and ren•
der both miserable for ever. You will soon learn to forget
me, or at least to regard me in the light of a friend or
brother. As you grow older, and see more of the world, you
will notice many cases before you that will 'how you the
folly of ill-assorted marriages, and will then he glad that
you did not fetter yourself in the beginning of life by unit-
ing yourself with one over whose heart you did not hold
absolute sway. Don't for a minute think that any other
affection has replaced yours in a heart which I fully believe
to be incapable of loving to that extent which is necessary
to make a woman happy. I shall never marry; even if I
wished to do so I should not be rich enough for perhaps ten
years or more to take up a position in the world as a house-
holder, with credit to the name of Fenton; and I would
never consent to be looked down upon by the rest of the
family. You asked me to forgive harsh words, but I have
nothinc, to forgive. Whatever harsh words I got I fully
deserved. If I could only hope that you, who have all the
grievances on your side, would forgive and forget, I should
feel much happier. . . I think I have now clearly explained
how matters stand with us, If there is anything you do not
understand, you must write and tell me. You once told
me that if I could not love you with my whole heart you
would release me from my engagement. I now claim that
promise. I need hardly tell you that your welfare will
always bet ne of my first wishes. Hoping that you will be
best with every happiness that can tall upon one in this
world and the next,—l remain yours affectionately,
"ROBERT FEN TON."
The jury would judge whether the defendant had not tam-
pered with this young lady's affections, and whether they
would not mark their strong sense of the defendant's con•
duct by their verdict.

Evidence having been called in proof of plaintiff's case.
Mr. Bovitl then proceeded to address the jury for the de-
fendant. He complained that his learned friend had entirely
misrepresented the object of his cross examination in his
summing up. It was plainly the interest of Mr. Fenton to
deal kindly with the plaintiff in a case like the present,
where his letters abundantly attested the regard and
esteem with which he had written to her. But when his
learned friend chose to charge Mr. Fenton, though young,
with infamy, hypocrisy, and deceit, what other course was
open to him in answer to this charge that Mr. Fenton had
invented the statement about the reports regarding hie sis-
ter's conduct in going home in a cab alone with her, than
to cress-examine her brother as to its truth ? He should
have been wanting in his duty if he had not done so, and it
was not with the intention of casting any slur on the plain-
tiff, against whom Mr. Fenton made not the slightest im-
putation. That the brother had made complaints about his
sister was clear; for Mr. Charles Barber, in his cross •exa-
mination, had admitted that he had made her cry, and he
would not deny that he had remonstrated with her about
other young men. Hearing these rumours, it was from the
high and honourable feelings of the defendant that he had
come forward to meet it in the way he had done by honour.
ably proposing to her. It must be matter of deep regret to
everyone that this case had been brought before the public
as it had been, and it had not been submitted to the good
offices of some mutual friend to settle. But for some reason,
no sooner did the severance arise than in the very same
month, on June 30, a writ was issued ; and they all knew
when once a matter of this kind got into the hands of the
lawyers it was likely to continue there. Any mutual friend
might have happily interposed. Tigre were two very young
persons—one just 16 years of age, beautiful, attractive, ac-
complished, the object of the affections of a young man, at
that time about 24, who no doubt at the time believed that
he entertained an affection for her. They had drifted into an
engagement; but difficulties interposed. Her friends thought
her too young, and old Mi. Fenton had declined to rake the
allowance to him that he had done to his other children who
were settled. It was evident that it was necessary that con-
siderable delay should be interposed. That delay had been
most unfortunate for both. With her attractions she was
engaged to Mr. Fenton. He gave up his customary amuse-
ments on her account. Ia the course of this delay bicker-
, bags had arisen between them and differences; not from
not from any other attachment of the defendant which had
arisen while he was in Ireland, of which there was not a
tittle of evidence. The defendant had discovered that his
union was not likely to be a happy one, and he had acted
as only an honourable man could do, by breaking off an
union which promised only future misery to both. The
loss of the young lady in a pecuniary sense was said to be
defendant's property in a mill, on which there was a charge,
and there was no other proof of his property, or of any
under his father's will, which the plaintiffs might have
proved had they thought right. No imputation was cast
on the plaintiff. The defendant felt that he could not com•
plete his engagement, and it was for the jury to say, under
all the circumstances, what reasonable damages they ought
to give.

His Lordship then proceeded to sum up, briefly stating
the evidence. The question was really only one of damages.
The fury would consider how far the defendant's reasons
given for breaking off the match mitigated the right to
damages. They must not give damages to punish the de-
fendant, but what was fair and reasonable under the cir-
cumstances.

The jury returned a verdict fcr plaintiff—damages £3,000.

THE HARVEST IN IRELAND.

The past week has been very favourable for fill-
ing grain crops, and the plentiful showers have
helped the growth of turnips and late fits. The
corn harvest will coon commence; flax-pulling is
going on rapidly, and the crop may be considered
the best for many years past. Late potatoes have
been considerably improved by recent showers.
There is but little wheat grown in this county, but
what there is is excellent. Farmers are hopeful,
and landlords anticipate well-paid rents.—Northern
Standard.

The weather continues unsettled, and rather
more rain is falling than could be desired. We
have, however, had several fine days of brilliant
sunshine this week, and the cereals in many parts
of this county are presenting an appearance which
would warrant the use of the sickle in a few days.
Already a considerable breadth of winter-sown oats
has been reaped. The stooks are numerous, and the
yield likely to be above an average. A few fields of
wheat and winter bere have also fallen before the
sickle in this district. Potatoes are so far free from
the old distemper. Flax-pulling is very general—
some of this crop is already at the scutch-mill, and
the yield is fbvourably reported. Turnips and man-
golds are much benefited by the late rains.--Down-
patrlck. Recorder.
The weather is not so favourable as it has been,
but while turnips and grass have been much bene-
fited by the moisture, the grain crops and potatoes
have as yet suffered no injury.—Connaught Watch7l
man.

Most cheering is it to hear the highly-satisfactory
and gratifying accounts announced from the lips
of every one we have conversed with on the subject
of the harvest. The quantity of wheat sown is
scarcely half that usually sown; and from its pre-
sent appearance, many farmers are repining at not
having sown it more extensively. Oats promise a
fair yield ; they have been sown more extensively
this season than usual.—Drogheda Argus.
The reaping of wheat and oats has already corn.
menced in this neighbourhood, and we are glad to
learn that the yield is heavy and abundant. The
rains of the last week have, however, retarded the
harvest, and occasioned anxiety for the safety of
the ripe cereals. There is no cause, however, for'
alarm. The potato crop will afford an excellent
return. Pasturage has greatly improved. Already
a very large quantity of fuel has been dried.—
Western Star.

All the crops look remarkably well, and should
Providence favour us with a return of fair weather
now, we will be blessed 'With an earlier and more
abundant harvest than has been witnessed in this
district for many years.—Clare Freeman.
From all ps.rts of this and adjoining counties the
roost favourable reports have reached us of the state
of the crops, and harvest work is going on briskly.
The yield of the various grain crops will be far
more than an average, whilst the quality generally
will be very superior. Potatoes are large, floury,
abundant, and free from disease. A great deal of
corn, particularly barley and oats, have been
stooked.—Carlow Sentinel.

Sixty miles an hour by the Great Western express hes
been arrived at by the careful and constant improvement of
the locomotive. The same means have made Herring's mag-
netic brushes and combs equally perfect. They are now the
accepted and certain remedy for the agonies of tic-do'oreux,
nervous headache, ac., a”d re tore the colour to grey hair in
f:.\/v weak.. N. l'.—Counterfcits et.: being made. Offices,
`2, Itss,lia4hall:etrect, 14:1111.02.

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

TIMES.—The Crown of Mexico has been offered
to the Archduke Maximilian of Austria, and the
proverbial fortune of the Hapsburg family may be
illustrated, perhaps, by the union of two Empires in
one House. With the establishment of the new
State we have only such concern as necessarily at-
taches to the abatement of a political nuisance and
the substitution of an organised and responsible
Power. With the motives of the French in this
arrangement we have no desire to quarrel ; with the
interests of Austria it is not our business to meddle.
But there is a question involved in the transaction
which, though familiar enough already to a large
class of readers, should by no means be left without
notice at this stage of effairs. A certain State, in-
habited by an independent nation and known for
about 40 years as a Sovereign Republic, has been
invaded by the armies of the French Empire,
and after an obstinate resistance has been so far
conquered that the invaders are in possession of its
capital, and are there superinteeding the to con-
struction of the country and the erection of the
Goverment now under consideration. It is not
very surprising that such an expedition should be
represented as an attack upon the liberties of a peo-
ple and a violation of public law. That the armies
of a great European Sovereign should cross the
Atlantic, disembark on the shores of the New World,
dethrone the rulers of an independent State, change
its form of Government, and offer the dominion toa
stranger, is certainly a proceeding requiring con-
siderable justification in the present century. A con-
quest of Mexico in these days must be based upon
principles very different from those which were
thought sufficient in the times of Cortez and Pizarro.
Before, therefore, the consummation is actually pro-
claimed we may venture on recalling to the public
mind the incidents of the story which is thus to be
concluded. We can have no hesitation in asserting
that the Republic of Mexico has deserved its doom ;
that its rights were forfeited; that, whatever may
be the end of the affair, the Mexicans have no com-
plaint against France, and no title to the sympathies
of Europe. So notorious, indeed, are these facts that
they have been universally accepted on both sides of
the Atlantic, though France has been left by the
course of events to act upon them alone. It is of much
importance that this should be remembered. Strictly
speaking. the French army, though composed exclu
sively of French soldiers, did but represent what are
called "troops of execution" in the administration
of Confederate Germany. The sentence of Europe
had gone forth against Mexico, and she was put
under the ban of Christendom. As regarded the ac•
tual judgment on her offences, England and Spain
were not only of one accord with France, but were
originally engaged even in the execution of the sen
tepee. When we contributed our quota to the Mexi-
can expedition we placed upon record our opinion of
the case, though when it came to the point of action
we shrank from the logical consequences of our de-
cision. It was perfectly plain when the allied squa-
drons sailed for Vera Cruz that some such result as
is now witnessed must be the end of the enterprise,
if the enterprise was to have any practical end at
all. We understood this well enough, but we pre-
ferred to leave our objects unaccomplished rather
than ace )mplish them at the necessary cost. Spain
understood it equally well, and was fully prepared
to go through with the design as France has done,
but withdrew when she discovered that the work
could only be effected in partnership. France,
therefore, was left alone in the affair, with a mono-
poly of the profit and loss together. Had she done
as we did, she would perhaps have displayed more
commercial wisdom ; but in that case the spectacle
would have been offered to the world of three great
Powers showing their teeth against a small culprit,
after outrageous provocation, but declining to bite
when the necessity arrived. Nor should we omit
to add that the estimate of Mexican deserts was
precisely the same in America as in Europe. The
Government of the United States never made the
least secret of its opinions on this point, or of its
policy either. Its design was to let Mexico " drink
the eup of anarchy to the very dregs," until at last
the State should become an utter wreck and leave
its great neighbour the benefit of salvage. That
the Mexicans had completely and hopelessly failed
in the attempt at self-government, and that their
country must fall into the hands of some stronger
Power, were propositions accepted as beyond dis-
pute. What France has done it was competent to
any one of half-a-dozen Powers to do. These Mexi-
cans, in their anarchy, had not only effaced all ves-
tiges of civil order among themselves, but had pro-
ceeded to the most intolerable outrages upon the
subjects of foreign States. There was a case of war
against them at any moment. They not only de-
frauded others of theirjast dues, but they plundered
and murdered the unhappy residents in their 'coon try
without fear of consequences. Their chiefs had less
respect for the usages of civilization than New Zea-
land savages. It is not long ago that one of these bri-
gands, being then actually ruler of Mexico,broke open
the house of the British Legation, and stole from it
upwards of £lOO,OOO which had been deposited
there under the presumed protection of the British
flag. To talk of such people as heads of political
parties is absurd. If ever there were such parties
in Mexico, they have long since given way to mere
factions of brigands with their rank and file of
cutthroats. Probably there was once a contest be-
tween the old Conservative element preserved in
the Church, and the new Liberal element created
by the success of the Revolution. though we have
seen it argued that the true origin of the strife was
in the conflict between Federalism and centralisa-
tion. But, whatever may have been the first
causes of civil discord, it is clear that they have
long ago vanished, and that no principle whatever
was capable of being established by the success of
any one military leader. We had ceased at last to
take any interest in the vicissitudes of their inter-
minable wars. Whoever was uppermpst, the prac-
tical results were the same—anarchy everywhere,
pillage in every great town, rapine and murder
all through the land. We have been told—and it
is the only plea indeed, which the notoriety of the
case admits of—that though all these things had
undoubtedly been going on all this time, they were
at length coming to an end exactly when we chose
to interfere, and that Juarez, if we had but let him
alone for six months longer, would have inaugu-
rated order in Mexico. There is no answer to a
prophecy, but we can truly say that Mexico was
not called to account precipitately, and that if she
had not quite so much indulgence as she required
she had a great deal more than she could reason-
ably claim. One conclusion from all this must be
clear—Mexico has no grievance in the eyes of
Europe. By a long series of outrages and by the
dereliction of every public duty she exposed herself
to war, and she has succumbed to a conqueror.
That conqueror has treated her with, at any rate,
a show of consideration and deference. He has in-
vited her notables to dispose of themselves, and,
after their experience of Republican institutions,
it would certainly not be surprising if they sin-
cerely desired a Government of another form. If
France fieds her account in the political
prospects which these arrangements open, we cau
only say that she has been at the whole charge of
the proceeding, and that the bargain does not
appear to be extravagantly in her favour. If an
Austrian Archduke chooses to undertake the mis-
sion of regenerating Mexico, we can only wish him
success. It is not conceivable that under any Go-
vernment whatever the Mexicans should fail of
being better ruled than before; and, if Francs and
Austria can make Mexico a State in which life and
property are secure, and public obligations respected,
they will certainly leave Europe and Mexico their
debtors.

PosT.—Mr. Thackeray was, we believe, the first
writer of any note in modern times who took up his
parable against the doctrine that men engaged in
art or literature are entitled to any special exemp-
tion from the business obligations of life. Men like
Steele and Goldsmith, Theodore Hook and Hayden,
Dr. Magin and De Quincey, bad so steadily in-
sisted on the fact that between the artistic tempera-
ment and the practice of a prosaic economy there
exists some eternal incompatibility, that the world
had come to think so too; and, although in his
lectures on " English Humorists" the eminent
author we have named did his best to upset this
delusion, yet it still prevails to some extent, and
is likely to be much strengthened by recent revela-
tions in the Court of Bankruptcy. Although we
are not disposed to go quite so far as Mr. Thackeray
in refusing to see any distinction whatever between
the practice of art or literature and that of any of
the more regular professions, yet still it must be
admitted that many of the pleas put forward on
behalf of defaulting geniuses, are wholly invalid.
One sometimes hears it said, for instance, that
the precariousness of the income which is derived
from the pen, the pencil, or the stage is one
source of the improvidence with which it is ex-
pended. Teere is, indeed, a certain amount of
truth in this statement, for en writer, painter, or
actor, except the very few who stand quite at
the top of the tree, can make sure of retaining his
hold upon the publin so long as any ordinary bar-
risier, surgeon, or physician can depend upon re-
taining his connection. The mason is that these
latter professions, although competitive, aro not
to competitive as the others. But still, making
all allowance for the few grains of truth which this
view of the subject carries, they are not enough to
outweigh the broad facts that, on the whole, almost
any follower of the pursuit; above mentioned, who
is of average merit and industry, can make sure of
bread, and that most of them contrive by some
means to add a little sack to it. Professions like s he
church, the army, and the civil service do not admit
of being compel wide say one of the hLOve. In
these, men compound for certainty of income by
surnndering the eh:stil' of vinkiPS A large fOrtllllV.

There is, however, another feature in the profes-
sions of art and literature, including, of course, the
dramatic profession, which, trivial as it may seem,
does really, we believe, exercise no inconsiderable
influence upon the conduct of those whom it affects ;
and that is the mode of paymentewhich is customary
in certain branches of them. ?he system of weekly
salaries is extremely hostile to economy ; and it
operates in two ways. Firstly, when an actor or a
journalist get his six, his ten, his fifteen, or his
twenty pounds in hand on Saturday afternoon,
there is a marvellously strong temptation to go
home and pay his lodging bill out of it and spend
the rest. Sums received in this manner are too
small and too fugitive to create a sense of property
in the recipient ; and seldom or never acquires
the power of looking on his salary AS something to
be taken care of and economised. He does not see
his way to any adequate result in return for SO
much self. denial. In the second place, it really
is more difficutt than perhaps it seems for
men so circumstanced to put by money. Allier°
are they to put it.? They cannot open a banking
account with a £lO note. Savings banks give a
great deal of trouble. And if they keep it in a desk,
a pocket-book, or a cigar-case, the chances of being
robbed, and the constant temptation to spend it,
interfere with any schemes of prudence. The case
we have here sketched is more pecularly the actor's
case, who, in the largo majority of instances, is en-
tirely dependent on the salary which he receives
from a particular theatre. The system creates
habits, if not exactly of extravagance, yet certainly
of profound carelessness, of which actors who
mount into a higher sphere generally feel the bad
effects. We have little doubt that much of the bad
economy which distinguishes the households of the
poor arises from the same cause—the fatal Saturday.
The one class sees no more good in saving ss. than
the other does in saving £5. Both doubt, errone-
ously, of course, but still quite naturally, if they can
ever save enough to make it really worth the
trouble. But give the same men their money in
quarterly instalments, they would see it in quite a
new light. Finally, we would not deny that there
is some truth at the bottom of the popular feeling
about the " artistic temperament." For gentlemen
gifted with this peculiar organisation to trade upon
its weakness is no doubt extremely culpable. But
it must, in fairness, be admitted that in the ideal
life of the stage anti all its exciting accessories, and
in the constant exercise of the imagination which
is demanded by the higher branches of art and
literature, there certainly is something calculated
to make arithmetic repulsive, and economy, in con-
sequence, difficult. In those fortunate instances
where the exertion of these exalted powers is re-
warded by an ample revenue, the possessor of them
can afford to neglect such considerations. But, for
one whose mind is constantly absorbed in a world.
of his own creation to attend to all those small pre-
cautions which are necessary to make a narrow in-
come do its utmost, is so exceedingly irksome, that
the indulgence claimed for the irregularities of men
of this class is not without some show of reason.
In fact, what such a man would gain by at-
tending to business of this nature he would.
almost lose by the distraction of thought which it
entails. These remarks, as we need not say, have
been suggested to us by the bankruptcy of Mr. Dion
Boucicault. But ave are very far from intending
them to apply with any force to his case. His
failure results not so much from bad economy as
from rash speculation. Aut at the same time there
is an air of magnificence about bis schedule which.
bespeaks the man of warm imagination and poetical
indifference to money. During the first year after
his return from America he made £23,000. He
pays income tax on £lO,OOO a year. He spent
£20,000 merely on improving some property in.
America, £15,000 more upon a house at Bromptone
and £2,300 on the furniture only of a country man-
sion bearing the aristocratic appellation of Cole-
herne Court. Why, this out-Redpaths Redpathr
and almost out-Waugbs Waugh. Let nobody, at
all events, say after this that the British drama is
on the decline. Here is a man making an income
which the wealthiest British merchants scarcely
excel, by pretending to jump into a pond. We must
own we think Mr. Boucicault would have done
more wisely to content himself with these hand-
some wages. Bat it seems he has a soul above
lucre, and was bent on ameliorating his species.
In other words, he had a hobby which has proved
no exception to the general rule in such cases. He
had a scheme for ventilating theatres, and he got
up a company to aid in carrying it out. A scheme
and a company—in these two simple words lies
the history of many a ruin, and many broken hearts
and hopes. Not that Mr. Boucicault is likely co
break either. We have little doubt that he will
soon make another fortune, and that he will a
second time retrieve his fortunes by some still more
startling sensation.

COUNTRY MARKETS.

‘,

MANCHESTER-AuG. 20.

At our market this morning there was a tolerable at-
tendance of buyers, and the demand was fair for new Eng-
lish wheat at prices 2s to 3s lower than this day se'nnight.
Old wheat, as well as foreign, qui e neglected, and must be
called cheaper. Flour extremely limit€d in sale. Oats and
oatmeal sold slowly, at barely late rates, Egyptian beans
and Indian corn each the turn dearer.