The Sun.
London, England, 1865-06-05 00:00:00

Tiff: SUN, LONDON, MONIMY EVENING, JUNE 5, 1865.

ELECTION INTELLIGENCE.

..-- ----4•-• ---

BEDFO1t1).

The present members for the borough, Mr. S.
Whitbread (Liberal) and Lieut.-Col. Wm. Stuart
(Conservative), will offer themselves for re-election.
Should the Liberal party, however, bring forward
another candidate, the Conservatives intend doing
the same. Parties being nearly equally divided, it
is most probable there will be no opposition. In the
county no contest is expected, both parties being
satisfactorily represented by the sitting members,
Col. R. T. Gilpin (Conservative) and Mr. F. C.
Hastings Russell (Liberal), who are both also highly
personally respected.

was contradicted the impression remained, and still pre-
vails, that this merited distinction is merely delayed for a
convenient season. The letter recently addressed by Sir C.
Wood to Mr. Crossley states that he yields his seat for
Halifax, and declines to be again pnt in nomination, out of
respect to the memory of my revered father, and from a
determination not to oppose the son of his late friend. This
courtesy I gratefully acknowledge, but should be loth to
take advantage of it, if thereby I should check his career
of public usefulness. To him, however, all the avenues to
office, power, and influence remain open, and, while far
loftier distinctions are before him, I may perhaps be per-
mitted to realise the honour which I again solicit at your
hands—that of representing my native town in the Com-
mons House of Parliament. As the approaching dissolu-
tion of the present Parliament will give me an opportunity
of fully explaining to you my views on political questions
I have little to add to my original address. The experi-
ence of the present session proves that questions considered
of primary importance on the hustings occupy only a small
portion of the time and attention of the House of Commons.
A spirited and able debate took place on the Reform Bill
of Mr. Baines; but it is evident from the result that .no
private member can hope to pass an isolated measure
of that character. To be dealt with successfully, the
whole subject must be grappled with by the Government
of the day in a complete and will-digested scheme. Such a
measure would have my cordial support in the event of my
becoming your representative.
" The Palace Hotel, Buckingham-gate, London, Juno 1."

peror being absent his subordinate's first duty was
to raise nanc, of those questions on which the Em-
peror alone could authoritatively decide. There is
something of treachery in seizing such a moment
for the publication of a new programme, even were
that programme immeasurably better than the one
which it is intended to replace. We are no admirers
of the French Empire, but blows of this kind struck
by friends and in the dark, stir in us the same
sense of repugnance as assassination. The Empire
may be evil, but that gives a Prince of the
Empire no claim to use a moral poniard.
For it is a poniard that has been used. It may
seem to Englishmen a trifle that a Prince of the
Blood should put forth a programme, opposed to that
of the Sovereign, for England has always, strange
to say, been free from the evils implied in thb
isteuce of a branche cadette. The people reverence
the Sovereign, not the family to which lie belongs,
and a Duke of Cumberland or Cambridge is as a
pretender as insignificant as any other subject. But
the whole history of France shows that a " younger
branch" can, if it pleases, become formidable to the
dynasty, and Napoleon has special reasons to dread
such an opposition. After fourteen years of empire
he is still politically alone. Amid all the multitudes
of men whom he has attracted, or coerced, or
bribed, or persuaded to his side, there is not one
who, if he himself died to-morrow, would have the
influence, or the position, or it may be the inclina-
tion to seize the helm, as a matter of course, and
hold it until his son was of age to mount the throne.
The Empress is Regent by law, but the Empress
could not govern the army, and except Prince
Napoleon there is no one else with legal position at
all, no man around whom the masses favourable to
the dynasty could at once without reflection rally
themselves, who could during the interregnum cer-
tain to follow the Emperor's death act the part of
Napoleonic standard-bearer. The Corps Legislatif,
even if faithful, is not sovereign, and every great
body in the State has been carefully deprived alike
of final authority and the power of initiation. A
marshal, if trusted by the troops, may seize the
reins, but why should he constitute himself guardian
of a child ? There is but one man in the Empire
whose visible interest it is to prefer the dynasty to
himself, and who has the mental power, could he
once obtain legal sway, to retain it, and this one
man has declared that his views are not those
of the Sovereign to whom he is so essential.
The dynasty, in. fact, is dependent once more
upon a single and a very uncertain life. It is not
too much to say that the speech actually increases
the personal physical danger which had always
threatened the Emperor. Until it was uttered, poli-
tical enemies had no security that the Emperor's
death would terminate his regime, that another
Napoleon would not cease the reins in order when
the time arrived to transfer them to a third. Now
every Red is aware that between France and tempo-
rary anarchy stand only an Emperor, whose health
has for years been indifferent, a woman and a child.
It is a heavy blow, would have been heavy had the
Prince simply retired, but he has done much more,
has given to all discontented Frenchmen a new ral-
lying point. They may distrust him, or even despise
him, as the Constitutionailsts distrusted or despised
Louis Phillippe, but he has proclaimed that he is of
them, anti in moments of anarchy men always turn
first to an individual. Each party must have some
one through whom to speak, and some one whose
name implies his policy, and in France the Reds have
few such upon whom they can rely. They may re-
fuse even with anarchy near to accept Prince Jerome
as their chief, but they will undoubtedly use him ;
and a party which has an able Prince of the Blood
to use, a Prince so near tqe throne that failing one
child he is heir, is certain to find in that fact alone
a new energy and consistence. There is not a poli-
tician in France who hates the oppression of thought
or dreads the Mexican expedition, or longs for Re-
publican organisation , who is not a stronger and
more determined opponent because of Prince
Jerome's speech. The Emperor almost alone has to
contend with all the old parties strengthened by
the adhesion of the ablest man of his name, of the
only man in fact who could say to the peasantry,
" I also am Napoleon, and have fought for France."
No wonder that he is irritated, or that in his irri-
tation he should so far forget his own policy as to
declare his will is absolute, in his family as in the
nation. Every conceivable incentive to irritation—
danger to his dynasty, menace to his person, opposi-
tion to his policy, personal ingratitude, household
annoyance—it is combined in a speech intended to
signify to France that if she pleases there is an
alternative and more democratic Napoleon.
THE "SATURDAY REVIEW" ON SIR CHARLES
WOOD'S APO T HEOSIS.—With the emotions of humble
and chastened joy proper for long-delayed favours,
the British public is once more told that Charles
Wood is going to the place to which all good Whigs
go when the sands of their political existence have
run out. For 40 years he has occupied some pro-
minent official post or other, and at no moment
during that long space has the nation which he has
been so kind as to help to govern ceased to desire
his removal to a happier sphere. It was felt on all
sides that the House of Commons was not nearly
good enough for so amiable and gracious a politi-
cian. His gentle and seraphic nature was wounded
by the rough assaults of that plebeian assembly. He
was far too good for such a world. They could not
appreciate the delicate courtesy of his manner, the
exquiSite geniality of his temper, the sublime- prin-
ciples of his statesmanship. Officially speaking, he
was so various that he seemed to be not one, but all
a Cabinet's epitome. -He has been Chancellor of
the Exchequer, President of the Board of Control,
First Lord of the Admiralty, Secretary of State for
India. He has been everything by starts, though
we can scarcely go on • to say he has been nothing
long. For a self-denying determination to serve a
thankless people even against its will, he-has proved
himself unequalled. With inflexible constancy, only
compared to the tenacity of the fabled Old Man of
the Sea, he has stood by his country, and stuck to
his party. Age could not wither him, nor custom
stale his infinite variety. He has never been troubled
by that peculiar consciousness of worth attributed
to Eve, which would be wooed, and not unsought
be won. No wooing was ever needed to make this
inimitable patriot place his services at the disposal
of his chief. He is one of the chosen few without
whom no Whig Premier's Cabinet could be com-
plete. Again and again has a considerate and grate-
ful press implored him to husband his energies, and
devote the declining years of life to the cultivation
and enrichment of a mind which incessant toil in
public offices has kept somewhat stunted and barren.
Unmoved alike by the thoughtful anxiety of his
friends and the ceaseless vituperations of detractors,
this indomitable official has persevered faithfully in the
discharge of political duties, and in the practice of
all the political virtues. But at length his official
hour seems to have come. Hope deferred had made
the national heart sick. Whenever there was any
talk of making new peers, the name of Sir Charles
Wood was ever the first to suggest itself. Rumours
arose, from time to time, that he was on the point
of retiring into the dignified Walhalla of tha Whigs.
People said they were too good to be true, and so it
always proved. The wish, alas, is too often father
to the thought. Even now it is to be feared that the
report may be a cruel deception. The blissful notion
of a House of Commons and an Administration in
which there shall be no Sir Charles Wood may be
no more than a vision of shady places and flowing
waters to the traveller in the desert. After the elec-
tions we shall perhaps awake to find him still a
member of Parliament and still a Minister, ruling
millions of untutored Hindoos, scolding and scoffing
at his Indian colleagues, snubbing deputations, and
making enemies with unrivalled profusion. Mean-
while it is permitted us. to cherish the illusion, if it
be an illusion. We may still nurse a hope that the
leaden weight of incorrigible mediocrity will be
shortly removed from tke India Office. We may
cling to the delightful fancy that all that strange
acerbity, that offensive petulance, are about to pass
away, and be no more seen or heard of ; or if they
do not pass away, perhaps people will be better able
to endure them in a belted earl. But it is plain,from
the tone of the letter announcing his intention not
stand again for Halifax, that Sir Charles Wood is
a little sad at the prospect of his apotheosis. In fact
he scarcely seems to realise what is coming upon
him. He frankly confesses that he had hoped that
"for the remainder of the time for which he may
have the strength and ability to do his duty in the
House of Commons," he might have had the honour
of continuing to represent his present constituency.
There are some people who cannot bear to think of
abandoning the world, and Sir Charles Wood will
not face the thought of life without office. It is too
dreadful. He thinks nothing gained so long as
aught remains. His past glories are well enough,
but there are still one or two high offices left which
he has not filled. One can scarcely wonder that
pensive reflections find their way into the breast of
the retiring politician. It must be painful to bid a
long farewell to all official greatness. Just as Wol-
• sey. did, Sir Charles Wood may think that, like
little wanton boys that swim on bladders, he has
ventured this many summers in a sea of glory,
but far beyond his depth. He trod the ways of
glory, and sounded all the depths and shoals of
honour. He administered the national finances.
He presided over the fleet. He has governed India.
A sea of glory, truly, but far beyond his depth.
Halifax has left him, weary and old with service, to
the mercy of the rude•stream, or else is the means
of banishing him to the House that must for ever
hide him, and where no mention of him more must
be heard of. It must have been Lord Palmerston,
in an exuberance of waggish humour, who suggested
the title by which the new peer is, we are told, to be
called to the Upper House. The name of Earl of
Halifax is illustrious in English history. The ac-
, complished Trimmer is a familiar character to every-

body who has read Macaulay. Surely the revival
of the title in the person of Sir Charles Wood must
be meant for a practical joke. It is really too bad.
The position of the victim should have protected
him from such a mischievous attempt to bring him
into inextinguishable ridicule. Even schoolboys
cease to chalk one another's backs with uncompli-
mentary names after a certain age. It is shameful
to canonise a man and then make him carry an
advocatus diaboli always about with him, to remind
the world of his follies or sins. To christen Sir
Charles Wood Earl of Halifax would be to call to
recollection, whenever his name is mentioned, all
the distinguished qualities which the unhappy new
peer is utterly without—to attract attention to the
vast number of qualities quite the reverse of distin-
guished with which he is endowed. It was all very
well for the Consul to havoc, slave in the chariot
with him, by way of appeasing Nemesis, but it must
have been a great bore for the slave. And it would
be a great bore to Sir Charles Wood to be called by
a name which would only remind people of his own
desperate insignificance. The intellect of Halifax,
Macaulay tells us, was " fertile, subtle, and capaci-
ous." This would be so deliciously true of his mo-
dern namesake ! Then, again, " his polished, lumi-
nous, and animated eloquence, set off by the silver
tones of his voice, was the delight of the House of
Lords." The same House will no doubt experience the
same sensation when it listens to the talk of the new
Halfax. " His conversation overflowed with
thought, fancy, and wit." Anybody who has ever
had to do business at the India-office will instantly
recognise the startling applicability of the descrip-
tion. " He always saw passing events in the point
of view in which they appear to the philosophic
historian." The immense insight and large philo-
sophic breadth of Sir Charles Wood's mind are too
notorious to need eomment. "All the great preju-
dices of both the great parties in the State moved
his scorn." Just so. The new Halifax has a soul
elevated far above all party prejudices, and is in-
different equally to Whiggery and Toryism, espe-
cially to Whiggery. The jest is ingenious beyond
comparison. Think of calling Sir Charles Wood
by a name which recalls intellectual subtlety and
capacity, thought, fancy, and wit, polished and
luminous 'eloquence and silver tones, a philosophic
temper, and a freedom from party feelings ! The
force of bitter irony could no further go. If people
were not too charmed at finding Sir Charles Wood
likely to retire at any price, they would probably
pause to inquire what he has done to deserve such
glory as he is said to be on the point of reaping.
He is of the tribe of the Greys, it is true, a Whig
of the Whigs ; concerning zeal, never out of office;
concerning the righteousness which is in red tape,
blameless. But these are not altogether unim-
peachable credentials. It would be interesting to
those who, like Halifax, look at passing events
rather from the point of view in which they would
strike the philosophic historian, to know why it is
that the Minister delighteth to honour Sir Charles
Wood. Perhaps he is driven on by the unanimous
wishes of 'the people. Sir Charles Wood, we do not
doubt, would be metamorphosed into Earl of Hali-
fax amid the sighs of relief of a long-suffering
nation. It seems to be the only way of escaping
him. Still those who have the rolls of the House
of Lords in their charge should scarcely allow them- •
selves to be moved by such considerations. If
every politician who is a bore is to be made a peer
as well as a bore, the prospects of the Upper House
are slightly discouraging. The Peers may per-
haps excusably object even to earn a merited popu-
larity by relieving the House of Commons of its
least useful and ornamental members.
" THE LONDON REVIEW" ON THE DERBY DAY.—
The Derby of 1865 was a thoroughly successful and
enjoyable public holiday. The roads never presented
a greater concourse of vehicles. There were more
carriages on the Downs than in the days before rail-
ways. Not a vehicle the less goes to Epsom, and
the crowd on the course is swollen twenty-fold by
the railways. The tens of thousands disgorged by
the trains make, indeed, a new world of Derby visi-
tors. The roads have seldom been dustier or more
clouded, but the weather was perfect for a Derby
day. The heat of the sun in the early part of the
day was tempered by clouds. The sun came out
just before the great race, bringing out what little
colour there is in a sombre English crowd, and giving
cheerfulness and brilliancy to the scene. The evening
was glorious, and made the drive home delightful.
There was a visible diminution of drunkenness both
on the course and the road ; and, in good humour
and good order, the crowd would bear comparison
with any assemblage of equal numbers (if such an
assemblage could be found) in any country of the
world. All the Frenchmen in London seemed to
have made common rendezvous on the Downs, and
hundreds of bearded Gauls had crossed the Channel
to " assist" at the victory of the French horse. The
Prince of Wales, accompanied by the Duke de
Brabant and the Duke of Cambridge, arrived at the
Grand Stand about half-past one, and proceeded to
the paddock to witness the saddling of the horses.
Gladiateur and Le Mandarin were saddled at the
lower end of the course, the favourite being intro-
duced into the paddock byJennings, his trainer, with
a leading rein, to the great delight of Gladiateur's
anxious supporters. He
.is a splendid bay colt, in
perfect condition, and fit to " run for a man's life."
His sire is Monarque, a great and fine staying horse,
the winner of the Goodwood Cup in 1852, and
" combining some of the stoutest English blood in
his veins." He is of remarkable symmetry, with a
length and power of stride which can only be noted
in his preliminary canter. Breadalbane, the next fa-
vourite who divided attention with the French horse,
is a bright and glowing chestnut, by Stockwell outof
Blink Bonny. He is a handsome colt, with small head
and bright eye, not perhaps worth the round sum
of £ll,OOO that was given for him, for good judges
could not discern in him the stay and stride that
were to win the race. Wild Charley, a sleek bay,
and Eltham, a neat chestnut, and Mandarin, the
" second string" of the Frenchtstable, andßroomie-
law, a bay with a white star on his forehead, " uncle"
to Breadalbane, and deserving a better place in the
betting than his nephew, were also eagerly scanned
by the royal party, the heir-apparent, by his re-
marks, showing himself no mean judge of a good
racer. The inspection in the paddock over, the
Prince, giving one arm to the Duke of Brabant and
the other to Lord Derby, and preceded by a body of
mounted police, returned towards the Grand Stand
which they passed, on their way to the Stewards'
Stand, whence the Japanese Ambassadors saw the
far-famed race. The Prince was loudly cheered
during his progress. The bell has been ringing half-
an-hour. The police have been patiently endeavour-
ing to clear the course, and have at last succeeded.
The preliminary gallops begin. A gleam of yellow
silk flashes by I That is wild Charley ! Soon the
French horses appear side by side. They are both
bays, and both jockeys wear blue jackets with red
sleeves, but Harry Grimshaw, on the favourite,
wears a red cap and the rider of Le Mandarin a blue
cap. Longdown—known by Osborne's violet
colours and green cap—a brown colt, that once be-
fore ran Gladiateur to a dead heat—next attracts
attention. Then a tulip-bed of gay and glancing
colours shoots by, and then, side by side, two horses
known by the rose colours of their riders, gallop
past the Grand Stand, pursued by shouts of admi-
ration. One is that brilliant chestnut, Breadalbane,
with the beautiful head and light easy stride, and
the other is Broomielaw, of the white star. When
they come back, Breadalbane's gallop is so much
relished that he is backed at 5 to 4 for a place. The
30 runners are committed to the charge of the starter
at 25 minutes to four o'clock, and it wants only
two minutes to four when the red flag is finally
dropped. The young jockeys are so anxious
to get off in good places that nearly a dozen
false starts try the patience of the multitude.
Gladiateur and Breadalbane are the most observed.
The first always gets well off to the front ; the lat-
ter is more composed, and is generally among the
last to get under weigh. At last the red flag is
dropped, the bell rings, and a hundred thousand
ivoices exclaim, " They're off !" The optical effect
from Brougham Hill is marvellous. In an instant,
the black dense mass of chimney-pots on the Grand
Stand, on the paddock in front, on the smaller
stands, and half a mile up the course vanishes, and
is replaced by a sea of human faces, flesh-tinted,
animated, and turned in one and the same direction.
They see at first a string of colours in rapid motion ;
then they disappear behind the hill ; then the silken
squadron are sweeping round Tattenham Corner ;
then they flash in to the straight running at lightning
speed. Breadalbane " runs unkindly" throughout
and comes to grief at three quarters of a mile.
Broomielaw, his stable companion, takes the lead at
the side post, accompanied by Zephyr. Then Eltham
comes to the front, challenges Broomielaw, and takes
a slight lead. Broomielaw recovers his lead for an
instant, and Todleben runs into the second place. A
group of horses follow so close together—Christmas
Carol, Longdown, Kate Hampton, and Audax—
that Gladiateur, although full of running and pulling
hard, is shut out. At last Grimshaw sees an open-
ing and comes through his horses, closely followed
by Wild Charley and Archimedes. A few strides more
and the horses behind Wild Charley strike into his
heels. The colt staggers against Archimedes and
Audax. The latter " canons" against Gladiateur and
knocks him out of his stride. Challoner—best of
jockeys as some assert—on Archimedes shouts to
Edwards on Wild Charley to "pull off" and let Gla-
diateur through. Edwards complies. Let it always
be remembered that in the heat of the race, when the
pace is that of a whirlwind, one English jockey has
the presence of mind to claim a fair chance for the
French horse, and that another English jockey
honourablyresponds to the appeal. But for Edwards
pulling Wild Charley off and letting Grimshaw
through, his chance would have been entirely de-
stroyed. It Di a trying moment. Grimshaw pulls

through his horses, and now sets himself to steady
Gladiateur. He eases him, reassures him,
gets him into perfect stride again, and bides
his time. At the distance Broomielaw gives
way. Christmas Carol takes the lead, is chal-
lenged by Eltham, and the two run neck
and neck until near the Grand Stand. The excite-
ment is tremendous. The general public see only
these two horses, and deem that the victory is be-
tween them. They encourage the jockeys-by shouts
and cries. But the wise men of the turf perceive
that Gladiateur is " running within himself." G4m-
shaw has only to call upon him, and then the race
will fairly begin. The moment chosen is when the
leading horses are just opposite the Prince's stand.
Gladiateur,with his long and powerful sweep, over-
hauls the pair at every stride. When abreast of
Christmas Carol, Grimshaw gives a glance to see if
that horse has any " rush" left m him. He knows
his own horse has, and thinks it better to have it out
with his adversary now. He raises his whip, and
gives Gladiateur one smart, stinging lash. The hors°
responds with a terrific stride—passes Christmas
Carol with ease—and then bounds along like a deer
to the judge's chair. Christmas Carol and Eltham
fight heard for second place, but as to the winner
he wins by two lengths, " in such easy style ;Is to
bear no comparison with Derby victories of modern
times." Christmas Carol wins the second place over
Eltham by half a length, and Longdown, placed
fourth, follows Eltham by two lengths. Value of
the stakes, £6,825. Time, 2 min. 453- seconds.
When it is known that, exactly half a century after
Waterloo, the blue riband of the British turf has
fallen into the hands of a Frenchman, the excitement
is wonderful. The ropes are burst, and the broad
race-course exhibits a dense tumultuous agitated
crowd, full of the race and of the French victory,
and hurrying down to catch a glimpse of the winner.
Harry Grimshaw is escorted back to the scales by a
body of mounted police, cheered all the way for his
cool and skilful riding. If the Frenchmen who Bur'
• round the winner could get at the fortunate jock*
he would be hugged and kissed within an inch of
his life. A certain proportion of the crowd appear
sorry that the prize has fallen to Count de Lagrange ;
but the great majority declare that the Frenchmen
have fairly won and richly deserve their success by
their enterprise and outlay and their loyalty to
English racing-blood and traditions. The French
party have never wavered in their betting, and will
be, of course, large winners. The Messrs. Morris,
the English "commissioners," net, it is said, £30,000
between them. •

THE " EXAMINER" ON WHALLEY'S SOLILOQUIES*
—The member for Peterborough, who can people
solitude with nightmares, must feel very much alone
when he attempts to speak in any reasonable assem-
bly of his countrymen. He may find companY,
a mob of sympathisers, such as that which he called
together at Brighton, and could raise only out e;
the scum of the town, but in any room peopled
with decent Englishmen it is he who is the night"
mare, and they all are the sufferers who would sleeP
if they could, as soon as he begins to give way to
monomania. The room may be a committee-room
of the most anti-Papal of our Protestant societies,
and still his speech would be endured as nightmare
is endured, with constant desire but vain effort to
throw the obstruction off. He is, in this respect'
.so utterly as of another race with those about hr
that his speeches are as much soliloquies for all the
company compelled to hear, as if the hearers were.
the population of an ant-hill pressed under the 110,?f
„
of one donkey left to make night musical upon Uwe
common. But Mr. Whalley is thus isolated bees.°
he is an anachronism. He has really been left be-
hind. He is the last of his kind left to the Cehr
mons. And it may be that the sense of solitus°
causes him to lift up his voice only the more fer-
vently. He would wish us, probably, to liken it 1"
the melancholy owl of the Protestant watch deg
who has been shut out of doors. It is not in mssto make Mr. Whalley understand why he shet'
be shut out. Nothing will make him see the reason
of his isolation. If anything could make him 1111
his eyes, the glare of his last absurdity, for wet 0
call it nothing worse, would force On them r,
of the needful light. With absolutely no greltl
but a rumour that did not go near to assert vo-'t
he had asserted, with no ground but the fact that
Mr. Wagner was a Puseyite, he distinguished lib%
self in the House of Commons by throwing el
against that gentleman a loosely suggested 606;
of murder. This is not only infamous, because
such matters Mr. Whalley does not seem to be re;
sponsible for his thoughts ; but ought he not to vu
withdrawn from opportunities of carrying his meirt
mania into the service of the Pope ? For le
Mr. Whalley be assured that the Pope would halto
few servants in this country more profitable than
himself, if he were listened to with attention instead
of ridicule. It is because the House of Commons
and the English people are very staunchly Protestants
and have a true sense of the battle always to be
maintained by England against the despotic print
ciple which they believe to be inseparable from the
rule of Rome, it is because they will not serve tug
Pope, that they will not let Mr. -Whalley be regarded
for an instant as their representative. His recklel
unreason and the absurdity of his intolerance wouil::
do very much to force young men away from t
faith he wishes to uphold, if they saw him respee'r
fully accepted as his champion. The sounds e'
ridicule which interrupt Mr. Whalley's Parliamew
The
tary eloquence are not signs of frivolity.
mockers who mark Mr. Whalley's isolation by such,
Icries of ridicule as " Sing, Whalley, sing,', 133.3"
be, in no unsuitable way, defenders of the fait.ll%

COUNTRY MARKETS ,


NORWICH—SATURDAY.
The supply of wheat was rather less at this market te°:
day, and millers being disposed to purchase only for inlll4
diate wants, the trade ruled slow, without, howenrifil'ey,
quotable change in prices. No alteration to note in r-'3'
so
oats, beans, and peas. The gale last Tuesday is represePso
to have done some amount of damage in brealdng "°„.ble
the wheat plant in some districts ; but fine and seas°l3.,„D"'
rains since have been most beneficial to all the gro""

crops. red
White wheat (weighing 631 b to 641 b), 48s to 495; fog
ditto (weighing 631 b to 641 b), 40s to 428 ; best nridtte
barley (weighing 551 b to 561 b), 30s to 33s •, jail"
(weighing 541 b to 551 b), 28s to 30s ; distilling ditto (we-gs
ing 521 b to 531 b), 24s to 26s ; oats, 24s to 26s ; 260
to 39s ; peas (maple), 36s to 38s per qr; flour, 26s to
Gd per sack.

NO T TINGELAM—SATuRDAY.
The supply of wheat at our corn exchange to-daliot
by no means abundant, and in varied condition. Tie341:001(
plant is progressing satisfactorily. Turnip sowing
nearly completed. The demand for wheat to-day Iv" atie
and late rates barelymade. Not much barley on offer,
prices of last week barely sustained. neR
Old white wheat, 42s to 47s ; old red, 40s to 430; 13.
white, 42s to 47s ; new red, 38s to 40s per 36 stone. 265 to
ley, now malting, 28s to 35s per qr ; old grindiug,,,, 300;
28s ; now, 25s to 27s per 30 stone. Oats, old, 250 i'',,toSt
new, 22s to 258 ; old foreign, 24s to 26s per stone.
old, 406 to 43s ; new, 37s to 40s per 38 stone.

LEICESTER—SATURDAY. pN
Old white wheat, 41s to 46s ; old red, 38s to 43k.; pttr'
white, 41s to 46s ; new red, 37s to 41s per 36 stow'. or 3v
ley, malting, 31s to 34s per qr. ; grinding, 27s to 29s Polo'
stone. Oats, old, 24s to 27s ' • new, 22s to 24s per 24 s
Beans, old, 398 to 41s ; new, 36s to 38s per 38 stone.

There was againYOßK-SATTIRDAY a thin attendance. of the trade 3t wero
day's market, and the few samples of wheat offertnE
taken at rather less money. The show of other gr'lte
only moderate. 40e
Pet
New white wheat, 41s to 47s ; new red, 37s to (la,
Stood
268 stone. Barley, for malting, 30s to 32s per qr ; goo°
268 to 28s per 30 stone. Oats, new, 20s to 24s per 2080 pet
Beans, 38s to 40s per 38 stone. Malt, Ns ; rye,
qr. Flour, 29s per sack of 2801 b.

DUBLIN.—FRIDAY. heft
There were few buyers in attendance. Foreigil,,ny
sold slowly at fully 6d less money. Indian corn °`„'d cat.
last day's prices. Oats reduced m value. Flour 3'.
meal both dull of sale. ed dm
Currencies :—White wheat, 22s 6d to 24s Grl;r,
rnalt-
20s 6d to 22s Od; grinding barley, 12s Od to 136
.Wcy.
ing do., 13s to 148 ; white oats, lls to 12s;
108 Od to lls Od.

• V. 03 CORK—FRIDAY.
The following were tho quotations this morn os ", ,
ioy 0(1
wheat, 7s 6d to Os Od ; 'white 8s 8d to Os Od ; bfrd to 0$
to Os Od; oats, 8s Od to 8s ; black oats,
bore, Os Od.

Births.
fhyadf
CoNvms.—On the Ist inst. Wellesbourne, --°
Conyers, of a daughter. Tir
DAVY.—On the 28th ult. at Mansfield, Notts,
Davy, late of Jessamine Cottage, Upper Clapton• 'vole
PALMER.—On the Ist inst. ,at 4, West Cliff-terra,n4 of 14
gate, the wife of Commander George Palmer, I'
son.
hr-
Smrril.—On the 2d inst., at Brampton Ash
ket Harborough, the Hon. Mrs. Sidney
son. Resctriito,
of

BRpofeW Nis,
uEtchcllA:elsatnoßndiispsqlNaufer,Marriage& cutv
eO, ;Pi
mti hmie:ci2:9o. t, h
Henryult
to Emily, youngest daughter of W. C. liarrisoill
Trinity CbUreiji
RUSSELL--11UNTER.—On the let inst., at vatilio°
Bath, Major B. C. Russell, 13th Hussars, WTI,' owl',
Henrietta, youngest daughter of the late Henry ''''
Esq., formerly sth Dragoon Guards.
Deaths. of
Escl"
BBalt.oEivenc,lgsciton., vi 611.,,
BOOTY.—On the 3d inst ,at Margate, James Booty", aci 34,
Castle House, Forest, Walthamstow, Essex, and
Loadenhall-street, London, aged 63. •
CRACKNELL.—On the Ist inst , at Halesworth, Tli°lllll4
Craeknell, Esq., aged 78. • . , .„0. 01J c°
FRANKLYN.—On the Ist inst., Id Chipping Norton,
Franklyn, Esq., aged 57.
--------; '
--------
NfAliat
London : Printed and Published by WILLIAMA ...rt. 1;
of 1
No. 12, Strand, Mter, at Tux SUN Office, f:sy of
Strand, in the Precincta of the Suiroy, in the COUJ
Atiddlosex.—Monday, Jane 5, 1865.