The Sun.
London, England, 1837-05-23 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

THE ARETHUSA ; A NAVAL STORY.

ET
C.IPTAIN CHAMIER. THREE POLS.
Bentley, London, 1837.
Within the last few years nautical novels have be-
come popular, far beyond the general course of fiction
produced by modern talent. There are, however, both
good taste and sound justice in this distribution of the
public favour. The nautical authors—of course we
speak in reference only to the best—write of scenes
and people with whom they are familiar, and the' con-
sequence is, they arrive at a truth of colouring not
frequently attained to by the others. fie who pre-
tends to describe the olden times must borrow_ much,
if not everything, from books; and how few are able,
like Sir Walter Scot, to chose those precise tints
which may give to the portraits of the dead the sem-
blance, and almost the reality, of life ? Nor is the
matter much mended with those writers, who, trusting
more to observation and less to fancy, confine their ef-
forts to the forms and. features of the modern world:
if they choose the peasant's cot, a subject apparently
within their ken, yet how little in reality do they know
about it. Even Miss Mitford, charming as her sketches
undoubtedly are, never yet has painted the reality of
rustic life ;: her cottages, like those which formed
the devil's delight, are cottages of gentility, and her
peasants are fit inmates for such dwellings ; the clay of
the fi&d does not hang about them ; her very dogs
are not of the true breed, but seem to have come from the
parlour newly washed and combed. Then, again
if the writer betakes himself to the fashionable circles—
even allowing him to be familiar with them—alai
form of society is altogether so artificial, the surface of
it is such a dead level, that no genius can render it
interesting, except to those who are themselves a por-
tion of it. Now, the sailor, who depicts life as it ex-
ists at sea, has the double advantage of painting men
with whom he is in daily and hourly intercourse, and
of having for his groundwork the only form of life, in
which the elements of romance can be said any longer
to exist. Hence it is that the merit of these nautical
novels will be always found to be in exact proportion
as their authors, eschewing all other topics, adhere
faithfully to the people, and- the scenes with which
they are in immediate connexion.
The hero of the " Arethusa," Walter Murray, is
about as unpromising a character as ever was chosen
to support the interest of a romance. He is neither
one of those perfect patterns, which, to the great mis-
fortune of the world, are to be found only in novels ;
nor yet is he one of those amiable monsters, all crime
and-melancholy, with black hair and pale faces, who
for so many years were the darlings of the ladies. So
far from this, lie is introduced to us with every quality
that may make him most repulsive. In the outset of
the work, we find him as a boy—mean, ungrateful, vin-
dictive, avaricious—with an inordinate propensity to
lying, and without a single redeeming quality, except
it be his untameable courage. The object of the
author, and it never would have entered into any com-
mon mind, is to show how such a nature might be al-
tered by time, and a favourable combination of circum-
stances—his vices dying off as it were, and dropping
from him. Great as the change is when eventually
completed, yet the intermediate links are so subtily
woven, the transitions from one stage to other are so
gradual, and effected by causes so natural and at the
same time so powerful, that the interest is never check-
ed, nor the judgment offended for a single moment.
It is curious to see the happy art with which the
several characters, however dd.:rant they may be in
habits and temper, yet work, unconsciously to them-
selves, upon the heto Thus, in the very beginning
of his career, on ship-board, his pride is rubbed down,
and his temper steeled by the incessant tricks of a
brother midshipman, Light Weazel, who is the coun-
terpart of a monkey in every thing save that he lacks
the tail, which Lord Monboddo would have supplied
him with. This mischievous varlet, with an indomit-
able love of tormenting, gives Walter no rest, even
when he has received a sound drubbing at his hands.
The Captain, the very model of what a British Captain '
should be, contributes his share in forming the cha-
racter of the novice ; even his friend Hammerton, who
is but an every-day sort of personage, has yet an effect
upon him ; and the rest is brought about by alternate
suffering and pleasure, battles and honoursohipwrecks
at sea, and hospitality ashore. To give the whole
story in detail would be somewhat too much for our
purpose ; we must content ourselves with showing
Walter as he appears at the different stages of his
career, and for this purpose will begin with the young
midshipman's first introduction to his Captain at Ports-
mouth) :

" Away went Hammerton, and without any preface opened
the door and began, " The Captain wants you, Murray—come
along as quick as you can."
" I have sent once to him," replied Murray, "that I should
come after dinner."
At this Hammerton burst out laughing and said', "you'll
know better before half an hour is ovcr your head than to send
such a messago to the Captain ; but come, he has sent me for
you—don't stand gaping there like a stuck pig—come along
Isay.''

"You may say what you like," said Murray, "but I don't
care any more for the Captain than I do for that sweeper in
the street, and go I shall not until I have had my dinner."
" Don t make an ass of yourself," continued Hammerton,
getting a little on towards an angry expression ; " but come
along, or I must take you by force."
" By force 1" said the petulant boy; " I should like to see
you use force 1"
" Oh," said Hammerton, " you will not be long in being
gratified ;" and forthwith he seized his victim by the cuff of
the coat with the left hand, and taking hold of a certain part
of his unmentionables, he forced Murray's head forward with
one hand, whilst he kept back _his stern with the other, and
thus navigated him, in spite of all kicks and starts, through
the passage, ',Meeting a waiter who was near the Captain's
door, he desired him to open it, and in walked Mr. Murray
in spite of himself. He seemed rather startled at finding him-
self in the presence of five Captains, all in uniform, and all
men not very likely to be frightened by a youngster.
" Come here, Siai" said Barker, in a quarter-deck voice,
which, in spite of the independent air and bearing of Murray,
who had drawn himself up for impertinence directly Hammer-
ton relinquished his grasp aed allowed' him to be perpendicular,
went through him, and he felt, to use a common expression,
cowed. " Come here, Sir," lepeated his Captain ; " did you
hear me speak to you ? Pray, Sir, why did you not come
when I sent for you, without obliging Mr. Hammerton to exe-
cute his orders in the manner he has done—and done properly?"
" I thought—" began Murray.
" Thought, Sir 1" interrupted his Captain ; " who gave you
leave to think, Sir ? A midshipman think I D—n it, we
aro coma to a pretty pass now 1 I ordered you, Sir, to come
to me ; and take care you never disobey my orders. And now,
Sir, that you have received the reprimand you have deserved,
sit down and dine here,"
Murray, astonished at this welcome of his Captain, crept
like a frightened dog to tho chair; which was placed by the
gide of his commander, and began the operation of eating with•
out much appetite. This being remarked by,another Captain,
one who afterwards enjoyed the title of a most magnificent ty-
rant, led to the following observation from him :—" It's 'well
for you, youngster, that you don't belong to my ship • for, by
all that's sacred if you did, you should be flogged this even-
ing and starved to-morrow. This comes of sending midship-
men down in carriages; whereas, if they were packed up like
fish in baskets, and bundled into carts or waggons, they would
get a kind of hint as to what they might expect afterwards."
This pleasant introduction to a sea-life is followed
by the usual quantum of drubbings, given and received,
and the usual allowance of practical jokes, all told with
infinite whim and humour, till at last Walter becomes
a very tolerable sailor. Adventure now crowds upon
adventure, unconnected of course, but forming, as a
whole, a vivid picture of a seaman's life that certainly
has no sameness in the recital, whatever it may have
to him who actually endures it ; to-day we see him
drinking claret at the Captain's 414 t to-morrow,
swilling grog and fighting with a brother mid,hipman
in the cock-pit; one hour he is battling with the storm,
the next with the enemy ; now watching off a French
port, and now cruiging in the West Indies, weighing
the chances of Yellow Jack agiiiiist his hopes of prize-
mpney. As a climax to all this the voturbe wid4
with tip*.... shipwreck, which it is scarcely possi-
ble to read without iciPPiju prie hears the roar of the
V9ina, and feels the dashing spray of ihj:
Passing Dm much that is admirable, and BOW few

digressions that would be better away, we come to the
cutting out of the Hermione, one of the most gallant
actions of a war when British seamen were never other-
wise than gallant. The tale is told with so much
truth and force, that we cannot resist giving a few de-
tached fragments, though of course it must lose much of
its deep interest from the manner of the abridgement :
The Surprise, at dark, bad stood in shore under a crowd of
sail; and, when sufficiently close, the boats were hoisted out,
and left the ship in two divisions, as indicated, the pinnace
leading the first, and the gig leading the second, having the
rest in tow. At the time of leaving the Surprise, the Her-
mione was visible through a night-glass; and such was the
anxiety of the leader of this bold enterprise, that he never once
lost sight of her, but stood with the night-glass in his hand
until an event occurred which made the gallant Captain look
in another direction.
The boats had crept along silently, and rather slowly, to-
wards the harbour's mouth ; and now the lights were visible
from the town ; they were about two miles distant from the
Hermione, and as yet apparently undiscovered. The oars, as
they silently dipped in the water, were feathered close to its
surface; no phosphoric brightness betrayed the approaching
enemy—not a word was uttered, and even in the leading boat,
so strictly was silence observed, and so well were the boats
pulled, that the jolly-boat was scarcely discernible. Sud-
denly the boats were hailed ; a volley of musketry succeeded,
st long gun dashed its contents in the direction of the Eng-
lish crews, and it became evident that all was discovered.
The Hermione was seen with lights on her main deck and at
quarters ; a gun from the shore answered the gun previously
fired, and it was plain that the only surprise which could
have been effected was now destroyed.
Captain Hamilton trusted that his officers would have
obeyed his directions, by disregarding every other object but
the one in view ; and when he cast off the tow and gave three
cheers, he added, " Hurrah for the first on board I" Murray
steered the pinnace, and her bow never varied in the least
from the direction of the frigate. The gallant fellows now so
longer dipped in their oars silently; but they dashed forward,
cheering as they went, and giving the enemy ample time to
make every preparation. It was now the first error was
committed. The launch and the second division of boats,
instead of dashing forwards, turned short round upon the
gun-boats which had given the alarm, and thus Captain Ha-
milton, who kept his face towards his foe, reached the bow
of the Hermione unsupported ; not a boat was pulling in ~the
same direction but the jolly-boat, and she was soon far astern.
As the pinnace passed the larboard bow of the Hermione,
the forecastle gun was fired at her ; but she was so close that
the contents passed over her, and at that moment might he
seen the extraordinary sight of a frigate's pinnace, with about
twenty men in all, going unsupported alongside a frigate
having at least three hundred •men on board to cut her out ; that
frigate being perfectly prepared and actually at quarters,
with her main-deck properly lighted by fighting lanterns, and
her Captain and officers on the quarter-deck awaiting on an
attack, as was afterwards affirmed, from the Surprise herself
and not her boats.
In a work of this kind we only follow the hero. As the
pinnace was crossing the hawse of the Hermione, her rudder
caught a rope which went from the bows of the frigate to her
boat moored at the buoy. Murray lifted the rudder, when
the boat fell between the starboard forechains and tl:e cathead.
A rush was made to be the first man on board. Captain Ha-
milton, upon jumping upon the lower anchor, which had that
day been weighed and was still covered with mud, slipped off,
and nearly fell into the boat ; however, still keeping firm hold
of the foremost lanyard of the fore shroud, he recovered his
footing, and leaped over the bulwark.

The Spaniards below had by this time become acquainted
with the nature of the attack, and a rush was made from the
main-deck by the after hatchway; but the English, flushed
with the success of the enterprise; and finding themselves in
possession of the quarter-deck, soon repulsed the enemy.
Durinr, this affair the marine officer's party boarded on the
larboard' gangway. This welcome, but tardy assistance,—for
it appears they had tried to board on that gangway before, but
were repulsed,—placed the success of the enterprise beyond a
doubt, as far as the possession of the frigate was concerned,
although from 'the main-deck a continued fire of musketry was
still kept up. In the mean time the cables had been cut; the
men appointed to perform that duty, as they got to their re-
spective situations, made ample amends for their former neg-
lect. The mizen-topsail was loose, the ship adrift, and creep-
ing out of the harbour, when the marines made a rush on the
main-deck, and the Bermione surrendered.
This battle is followed by a rapid sucussion of
scenes, as vivid and as brilliant as one of Stanfield's
moving dioramas, and not less diversified in the sub-
' jects. We can hardly say it is a fault they are not
more connected, for if- any thing is lost on the one
hand, from the want of a closely-compacted plot, the
loss is amply made amends for by the variety to which
it gives occasion. It is, moreover, to this total self-
abandonment to the Current of feelin, whichever way
the stream may chance to run at the moment, that we
owe much of the raciness anti vigour which so pre-emi-
nently distinguish Captain Chamier. Were he to use
more art, it is to be feared he might giie us less sub-
stance ; while, as it is, he never fails to effect that,
which, after all, must be the principal aim with every
amuse the fancy and excite the feelings,
while he satisfies the judgmCnt of his readers.

THE HUSSAR. In 2 Vols.
London, Colburn, 1837.
In deep intensity of interest few romances equal
,hose of real life. There are not many men who have
)erformed a stirring part in the great drama of human
action whose autobiography, if faithfully written,
would not record scenes more striking than any to be
found in the pages of fictitious narrative. In illus-
tration of the truth of this opinion, we may confidently
refer to the volumes now before us, which, the author
assures us, " contain a simple and unadorned relation
of the principal occurrences in the life of the individual
whose memoirs they profess to be. The subject of
them—one of the most respectable of the many re-
spectable inmates of Chelsea Hospital—is still alive
to vouch for the accuracy of the statement, being in
every respect competent to'satisfy the most distrusting,
that no liberties have been taken with historical truth in
the management of this story. **. The Hussar is no
work of fiction—but just as much the Memoirs of
Norbert Landsheit as Captain Carlton's delightful
volume is a memoir of himself." This from a man of
the Rev. Mr. Glegg's high character would be suffi-
cient to remove every idea that the subject of this
work was a creation of the fancy, were any external
evidence required. But no evidence .of the kind is
wanted. Before the reader gets over a dozen pages,
lie finds himself in company with a fine, honest-hearted,
war-worn veteran, whose flesh and blood identity it
were an insult to call in question. He relates his ad-
ventures in the first person with a degree of simple
energy, and now and then a delightful garrulousness
of detail, admirably suited to his age and character.
Norbertus Landsheit was born in 1775, in the Bishop-
ric of Cologne, and was educated for the ministry.
Before he attained the age for taking holy orders,
Germany was overrun by the armies of France,: and
young Landshert, at the instigation of an uncle, en-
tered the army under Baron Charles de Hoinpesch.
He served with his regiment some time in England
and in our West Indian Colonies ; fought his way
through the Peninsula ; and after a life full of inci-
dent, is now an inmate of Chelsea Hospital. The
volumes abound in anecdote, in which the ludicrous
and the terrific strikingly display the lights and sha-
dows in the life of a soldier. 'We quote an extract
from the account of Serjeant Landsheit's rambles in
Sicily, with which we are compelled to conclude this
notice of a work which the grave and gay may read
with equal profit :
About two miles from Palermo, on the road to the interior,
stands a convent of Capuchins, which, having heard a good
deal of its splendour and of the customs of its inmates in re-
ference to their dead, I resolved to visit. I was accompanied
in this excursion by three friends, non-commissioned officers
belonging to the 20th Dragoons, and one of the regiments of
infantry, with whom, as soldiers arc not unapt to do, when set-
ting forth on a pleasurable expedition, I drank rather more
wine than I ought to have done. We were not, however, in
the slightest degree intoxicated,---indeed I repeat once for all,
that drunkenness never had the slightest charm for me, even
in my most thoughtless years ;—but we had taken enough to
place all things within us and around us in the brightest light,
and to render us freer both of speech and action than we might
have been, had we more spared the wine cup. In this merry
mood we hastened to the monastery, the brethren of which
were partienlarly kind and civir; conducting us first through
the chapel and'ether: public rooms Ogre ground, itud Olen
leading the way into the crypt beneath, Ijere the only light
affJrcieti carpe from a couple of torches, which two of the
monks carried before 14P, 41-0 by the glare of which we per-
ceived that the walls of the crypt were on all sides indented
by niches, which being in three tiers, contained each within its
recess the body of a dead man. I say the body, for these were
pot mere skeletons. Flesh indeed there was none, but the
skin wigs the,:c, i,2141y y el. ti4e
cvoqes ;-414; toe hair
and the beard—the latterorwhiai IloWe 4141-ylnetaneei as
low as the breast. Moreover, every corpse was dressed in the
sort of garments which the man used to wear when he lived.
Warrioji *pry rterc and generals ! senators, priests, and pri-

The Right lion. the Lord Provost."

THE CRIMINAL LAW.

THE SUN, LONDON, TUESDAY,. MAY 23, 1837.

rate gentlemen ; some in their uniforms, some in their robes,
some in their canonicals. We were assured likewise by our
guides that several had strwpd as we beheld them for three
centuries. The garments did indeed fall to pieces, and were
from time to tinlo replaced ; but the bodies were just as they
had been when first planted in these niches. Moreover, on the
breast of each was a plate attached to a chain that went round
his neck;--the great men having theirs of silver, the less dig-
nified being labelled n ith brass ; while each bore an inscrip-
tion illustrative of the career and services of the individual thus
honoured in his death. Of course we were very curious to
learn by what process the bodies could be prepared, so as to
hinder time and an exposure to the atmosphere from decom-
posing them ; and the monks, seeing that there were no women in our company, undertook to explain to us the whole
matter.

As we passed along the crypt towards the further extremity,
where the torch bearer stated that our sources of information
lay, I experienced, I know not why, a strong inclination, to
pull one of the great warriors by the beard. I did so, and be-
hold, a large portion of the hair, with a lump of skin, remain-
ed in my hand. There was a loud cry, of course, and a volley
of reproaches, which however I found it cagy to silence
by putting my hand into my pocket and piling out two silver
coins of the value of twenty pence. 4‘ Buy some sticking-
plaster with that," said I, " and put on the beard again. No-
body will find it out." The monk smiled, took the money,
and passed me. But the spirit of mischief was in me. 1
seised a Senator's hand and began to shake it ; and 10, it too
remained in my grasp. It separated from the wrist as if it had
been made of sand. There was a louder cry than before, and
more scolding, which a similar method of reply put to silence.
I gave the monk a Spanish dollar, end he made light of the
counsellor's misfortune. Indeed it appeared to me that his
civility and that of his brethren was increased; at all events
we last no ground in their esteem, that is certain.
Accordingly they led us on to a door in the distant wall,
which they opened, and eve found ourselves in a small apart-
ment, within which two persons were in the act of preparing
a body for removal into the cemetry.
Their mode of doing so was this: they cut the body open
in the hack, took out all the entrails, and kept the wound open
by means of sticks, exactly as a butcher keeps open the car-
cases of his sheep and calves ; they then made numerous inci-
sions into the fleshy parts of the legs, thighs and arms. And
having thus treated the corpse, they laid him face upwards,
upon a sort of iron ladder, beneath which burned a slow fire
of herbs, which they took care to keep always at the same de-
gree of temperature. The fire was just hot enough to melt
the fat, and shrivel up and wear away the loose flesh, without
cracking the skin or scorching the bones; and there was a
dish, like a dripping pan, which caught the gravy and con-
veyed it beyond the furnace. After melting the corpse in this
manner till the skin had everywhere collapsed upon the bones,
they thrust an iron spike through the cavity into the head,
and sewed up the wound again ; then putting on his garments,
they fastened under them a broad iron ring round the waist,
which having a hook that caught in another ring that waz
driven into the wall, gave the body, when placed in the niche,
its upright attitude.
We stayed here till all was explained to us, when we again
followed our conductors up stairs, who led us out into the
pleasure gardens belonging to the monastery and introduced
us to the superior. Being here, we were invited to sit down
beside a table that was spread under a tree, and hospitably re-
gAed with wine and fruit, and other light refections. Finally,
haying given some fresh donations to the brotherhood, we took
our leave, and returned to Palermo, both delighted and in-
seructed by the occurrences of the day.

NEW MUNIuIPA L B ILL (SCOTLAND

Copy of a Letter received from Robert Steuart, Esq., M. P,
one of the Lords of the Trea*ury

" Lonon, 13, 137.
"My Lord Provost,—ln reply to yourd letter oay f the 12th in-
stant, forwarding to me an excerpt from the Minutes of the
Town Council of Glasgow, I have the pleasure to inform you
that Glasgow will be omitted from the operation of the Gene-
ral Municipal Bill for Scotland, and a separate measure shall
•be prepared, with as little delay as possible. I should be very
glad, were it thought advisable on the part of the Town Coun
eil, to receive any suggestions that may offer for the framing of
such a measure, or to communicate with a deputation that
might be empowered to act for the joint interests of the diffe•
rent portions of the city, if it should be deemed proper to ap-
point a deputation for that purpose.—l have the honour to be,
my Lord, your faithful and obedient servant,
" R. ST
" To the lion, the Lord Provost of Glasgow."EUAßT.
The Lord Provost of Edinburgh has received the following
communication from Sir John Campbell, his Majesty's Attor-
ney-General, in relation to this Bill, of which the following is
copy:--

n, , 1837.
"My dear Lord Provost—l `am don do
iAapp May 12
ointed in not re-
ceiving from you the heads of the proposed Bill for regulating
the Municipal affairs of Edinburgh. Without such a com-
munication I hardly see how we can proceed to frame it—any
general agreetnent, I fear, is not to be hoped for; but, with-
out this, we may be informed of the regulations which it is
thought would do justice to all parts of the metropolis. I
hope I need not say I am desirous to act as promptly as possi-
ble upon the resolution of the Town Council.
" I am fully convinced that, from the very peculiar situation
of Edinburgh, it could not have been retained in the general
Bill. There must, at all events, have been introduced into the
general Bill the provisions now to constitute the separate Bill,
and there would have been the same difficulty wow experienced
in framing them.
For similar reasons, Glasgow is now to be withdrawn
from the Bill, and, in the English Municipal Bill, London was
never introduced.
I remain, my dear Lord Provost, yours faithfully,
" J. CAMPBELL.

...._
Lord John Russell's " Statements on Criminal Law" farther
illustrated as to the two offences of Housebreaking and Bur-
glary. ( See patio 1 of printed paper laid before Parliament.)
HOUSEBREAKING AND BURGLARY.-COMMITMENTI, ENGLAND
AND WALES.
Housebreak. Burglary. Total.
First period : 1830
Executed 18.
1831
1832

- - ---
2,150 482 2,632
Capital Punishments for Housebreaking repealed Dec. 31,
1832, but continues for Burglary, though scarcely ever en-
forced, only two being executed in the following three years,
when the committments for these crimes stood as under,
viz. : Housebreak. Burglary. Total.
1833
.... ....
," ..
Second period
,i 34
518
Executed 2. '
1835 ...... 381

1,578 606 2,184*
These results arc strongly in favour of secondary punish-
ments: in other words, they show the inferior efficacy of ca-
pital punishment in the repression of crime. It is almost super-
fluous to remark, that the figures in the last column are those
which should be looked at in comparing the two periods, be-
cause prior to 1833 burglary was sometimes indicted as house-
breaking, both being then capital.
Committroents fall from 2,632 to 2,184, being a decrease of
448, or 17 per cent. in the second period.
* The total is only 2,093 for three years, ending with 1836,
being still more favourable, as showing a reduction in the
crimes of 24 per cent.

PROFESSOR WILSON AND MR.
FORREST.

(Abridged from a New York paper called the World.)
FORREST'S VIROINIUS —" I have seen Forrest in the old
Roman father—the veteran—the centurion. I have seen
Macready play the same part more than once. I have always
considered it as Macready's best character, perhaps with the
solitary exception of Gambia, in Morton's nondescript drama
of The Slave. I decidedly pronounce Forrest the best Vir-
ginius on the stage. It is adapted to his powers, and is a
noble piece of acting—full of fire, full of soul, full of the
father. He performed it for his benefit to a crowded house,
and was most rapturously received. His performance of Vir-
ginius may be considered the greatest of his efforts, and was
the grandest display of histrionic power which the stage has
elicited since the days of a Cooke, a Kemble, and a Kean.
His domestic scenes were inimitable, playful, and tender—
gentle, and still the soldier, but always the father. Mr. For-
rest surprised his audience by the stern command which he
held over himself, which, in every other character he has
sustained, was always aiming at producing striking effects than
the subdued beauty of impassioned eloquence. In the scene
in which Virginius rallies his daughter on her love for 'edit's,
his affectionate playfulness was exquisitely tender and natural.
Nothing could be finer in the deeper interest of the drama,
when the messenger from Rome arrives at the camp to inform
Virginius of his daughter's danger—nothing could be finer
than Forrest's deep and thrilling expression of intense sup-
port, and the burst of joy with which he exclaims,
" I thank thee, Jupiter, I am still a father."
His scene in the forum was sustained with equal force. It
was listened to with the deepest interest. He had wound up
the audience to the highest pitch, and when the scene closed
it was hailed with an applause which burst spontaneously
from every heart and hand. His last scene in the prison may
be likened in its terrible and appalling horror, to the last scene
of Sir Giles Overreach as sustained by Kean. Forrest's
seizing the decemvir by the throat, demanding his daughter,
and hulding him until he expires in his grasp, may be easier
conceived than it can be described. In one word, Forrest's
Virginius is a masterly performance.

WHEAT AND FLOUR IN PARIS, COMPARED
4-
WITH LONDON.
WHEAT.—The highest price of the twat Wheat in Paris is
23f. per 1 bectolitrPi
which is equal to 355. 3d. per Eng-
lislt citiarter, The highest price of the best Essex and Wheat in London Kent
tieing2 os. per quarter, the difference is
Ni• i!(.1 per quarter dearer in isonden than, to Paris, or '74" per
uent. and the pimp limey which in London buys but eight
htisheit of Wheat, is in Paris the value of fourteen bushels of
the finest quality. 1
FLOtift.—rnie highest price of flour of the "first mark" iu
Paris is 46 francs per 159 kilogrammes, oove4ponding with
293. per 4nglish sap of 3tiffihs. The highest price of the
fitrt 9 town fi'4lC!! flour in Lenden is 525. per sack, showing
ne Flour. to be 235. per sack dearer in London than- in
Paris, or 79 per cent. ; and that the 425. which in London
Can procure but 2801b5., will in P.aris purchase 6021b5. of tilt.
4n.9sF Flovi