The Sun.
London, England, 1862-08-29 00:00:00

THE 'SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EVENING, AUGUST 29, 1862

friend has adverted to our conduct in providing those
means, and he has truly said that in the measures
which we felt it our duty to adopt we were only

giving effect to the steady and sturdy determina-
tion of the people of this realm, and if we had not
done so we should have been justly reproached with

neglecting the greatest duty imposed upon those
who are charged responsibly with the conduct of
affairs. Wo should not only have been negligent
Ministers, but I will say that we should have been
traitors to our country. (Cheers.) Well, gentle-
men, we duty feel the importance of lessening, as
far as may be consistent with the great interests of
the country, the burdens which necessarily fall
upon the people of these realms, but we know that
if by neglect, or by not taking due precautions, this
country, rich—as my reverend friend has stated—in
wealth of every kind, were to tempt a more powerful
antagonist, the expense of even the first month of
war would infinitely outweigh all the expenditure
which is necessary to place ourselves in a state of
security against attack. (Loud cheers.) Therefore,
it is true economy to provide due means of defence
for the country, and nothing can be more wasteful
of the public interest than neglecting, in a time of
peace, when you can do it quietly, gradually, and
advisedly, with due temper and circumspection, to
adapt your means to your end—providing in a time
of peace those defences, whether they consist of
army, navy, and volunteers, or whether they
con-
sist in works to guard your dockyards and your
arsenals, which you could not organise on a sudden
if war were to come upon you, but which, being
organised duly, in a time of peace, make you, as
far as human arrangements can do so, secure against
any unprovoked attack. (Cheers.) Ladies and gen-
tlimde manner
beg to return you my best thanks for the
kind in which you have received the toast
which my reverend friend has proposed; and I beg
en
k
twahatshure you that my visits to this town and neigh-
bourhood, always most agreeable to reflect upon
after they have passed, will be still more agreeable
when I bear in remembrance the kind reception
which you have given us this day. (Loud cheers.)
His LORDSHIP, in proposing the next toast, said
—We are assembled on the present occasion to com-
memorate a most interesting event in the history of
Melbourne—the restoration of that ancient struc-
ture in which we assembled this morning to hear
Divine service. There cannot be anything that
goes more directly to the hearts of mankind than the
restoration and repair of those temples of Divine
worship which are consecrated by every feeling of
the human heart. When, by a lapse of time, they
have fallen into decay, it is a most pleasing duty
on the part of those who live near, and of those who
are interested in the welfare and prosperity of the
district, to contribute to tfie reparation of the
edifice ; and those who have been kind enough to
undertake the duty of superintending those repairs
are amply entitled to be honoured by and to receive
the thanks of those who are to profit by their exer-
tions. (Hear, hear.) We have seen to-day how
well this ancient church of Melbourne has been re-
stored. We have seen that all the defects which
either time or misguided judgment had created in
that building have been removed and repaired, and
it now stands forth in its original beauty, the object
of admiration to all who enter within its walls. We
are greatly indebted to the vicar and to the church
committee, who have taken the trouble—and a great
trouble it must have been—to superintend those im-
provements and restorations, and, therefore, I am
sure that I am proposing to you that which will be
most agreeable to all your feelings, when I propose
to you the health of the vicar and the Church
Restoration Committee.

The Rev. J. DEANE briefly responded, and the
health of Dr. M‘Neile having been drunk and duly
acknowledged,
Lord PALMERSTON said—l beg to propose a
toast to you, gentlemen, in which the ladies are
not to take part. What I propose is, that we
should drink to " The Ladies." (Loud cheers.)
It is a rule of precedence that those of the highest
rank should go last, and therefore, upon the prin-
ciple of precedence, we propose " The Ladies," as
the last toast. You all know that where there is to
be a work of charity or benevolence done the ladies
are always the foremost to take part in it. (Cheers.)
I think it is recorded by Park, in his " Travels in
Africa," that wherever he went, though a helpless
stranger, and though often much ill-used by the
men, whenever he was in distress, whenever he
was ill, whenever he wanted assistance, he found
that the hearts of the women were not so black as
their faces—(laughter and cheers)—and that where
ever else he might meet with ill-usage, he was
always sure to experience kindness and as
sistance from the women of the village in which he
happened to be. (Cheers.) Now, although the
ladies of England cannot compete in complexion
with the ladies who relieved Mungo Park—(laugh-
ter)—their hearts are as warm and warmer in con-
sequence of the cultivation of their mind, and there-
fore I propose to you the health of the ladies as the
first and foremost in every good work, and thanks
to them for having attended this meeting to-day.
(Cheers.)
The company, upon the conclusion of the toasts,
proceeded to the gardens of Melbourne Hall, where
a fete was held, which, however, was somewhat
marred by unfavourable weather.
Deputations from Derby waited upon Lord Pal-
merston in the course of the day, inviting him to be
present at a banquet to be given in his honour, and
also requesting him to preside at the forthcoming
County Agricultural Meeting, but the noble lord,
in consequence of pressing engagements elsewhere,
was compelled to decline both invitations. His
lordship throughout the day appeared to be in the
best of health, and entered with great spirit into
the whole of the proceedings.

FEMALE FASHIONS FOR SEPTEMBER.

(From the Paris Elegant.)

At present there are but few novelties ; our pretty
ladies are all off to the watering-places, or on their
travels; boxes and packing-cases are sent after
them all over Europe. The most fashionable
dresses are those of white muslin; they are certainly
very pretty and extremely becoming. But when I
say white, I do not mean the fine Indian cotton
stuffs, which darken the very fairest cream-like
complexions ; but, rather clear muslin, or organdi,
or tulle, or tarlatane.

They are trimmed in a thousand ways. Some
are richly embroidered, others adorned with black
and white guipure, as I have already told you.
One pretty fancy, a revival of thirty years past,
are the organdis embroidered with coloured wool.
Sometimes there is but a single shade, sometimes
two blue tints, or rose de mauve, &c. They are
embroidered with extreme nicety, and they produce
a charming morning dress for company. Mauve
shaded with violet is, in my opinion, the most
elegant. Six small notched flounces (volants den-
teles) with a slight trail over the notch, a round
corsage, a ribbon matching the embroidery worn
as a girdle, having a large biw and long falls, or
else a scarf embroidered in the same manner. A
trimming or an embroidery round the bosom, wide
sleeves, half a pagoda, terminating with four rows
of small flounces, likewise tuyautes.

Robes for balls and evening parties are made up
as in the middle of winter ; the gloss is so bright
you cannot conceive anything more radiant. Their
style and elegance still keep increasing. Those
tulle and crape toilets are so very light as to make
one leap whilst looking at them. They generally
bullion these delicate stuffs; they are no longer
studded with flowers and bows ; they are fastened
or raised up instead, which is not so heavy to look at,

I will now speak of bonnets, and describe several
of them. One of these is of blue Louisa crape, and
laci
te,firvsetiyyocuomwmouolnd set it down as vulgar and ex-
.
__tut no; it does not display that universal tuft of
ehOui;etviPdis ;rs co much in favour with our cooks and
it is a set off with a salmon rose.
These rotes
are encircled with leaves of a wood
colour; they
in
a natural foliage, composed of
found 1
plants ~, the fields likewise, and the graceful
curve of which la closed with light clusters • no
imitation can surNes it. The effect is • • '
delightful,
and far above all comparison.
Another bonnet is made of grey crape ; like the
it is grooved, or coalisse. It is adorned with
ffitrreseh vernal roses; the Imes are of the same tint

as the crepe; it is soft, elegant, and wonderfully
pretty.
The straw bonnets are absolute gems. Yon de-
corate them with a velvet, a ribbon, and a bunch of
field flowers ; the style of them is very light and
pretty. Grace and elegance do not depend on
riches ; taste alone is sufficient to convert the merest
trifle into an ornament.

Muslin burnous still prevail ; they wait for fine
weather, and it is a pity to leave them in the band-
box. But what is to be done ? There is no laying
by our winter clothes yet.
One last word on bonnets and hats. 1 have often
alluded to travelling hats, and told you that the
taste is returning a little to those I so much re-
gretted—the Mademoiselle hat, with its turned-up
edehge e s sepointing downwards both behind and before.
are very elegant and becoming ; no others can
be compared to them. The Marchioness de V--
wears one of these made of Italian straw, adorned
T
with a pheasant's plume set on the edge and falling
behind. This plume is entwined with a pretty little
coronet of Toucan feathers of the richest red. I
ought rather to call it a circle than a coronet, for
the plumes surround the stock, and serve to support
it. A how of red velvet, edged with black lace,
falls over behind.
And now for a great piece of news, fair English
ladies ! Do you know that you are going' to use
sticks ? Yes, sticks, like our grandmothers and
great-grandmothers. They are being brought back
into fashion ; jid it is our ladies of high society and
the best breeding who have taken the initiative in
this extraordinary move. Even so

notice to quit, saving that he was going intolbe
country to better his condition. That was on the
morning of the 16th. He said his wife would come
for the furniture on the Wednesday or Thursday of
the following week. They went away together in
a cab at about lilalf-past 8. On Wednesday, the
20th, I saw the female prisoner at my house, and in
reply to my questions she stated that she had had a
letter that morning from Mr. Vincent—that he was
at Liverpool, and intended to stay there six weeks.
I next saw the prisoners in custody-
Clark said that on searching the male prisoner at
Rugby he found a letter bearing the London poet
mark, of Aug. 20. It was signed " Louisa," and
said " My dear Tom, your letter has just been re-
ceived." It was written by a female, and the writer
said she could not then come down, as she was un-
well. _

The prisoners said they should reserve their de-
fence.

Mr. Barker fully committed the prisoners to
Newgate for trial.
Application was made to admit the female to bail,
but it was refused.

THAMES.—THE ATTEMPTED MURDER AND
SUICIDE AT Bow.—Mr. Thomas Ricketts, a coal
merchant, aged 48, was brought before Mr. Selfe
charged with feloniously cutting and wounding
Ellen Ricketts, his wife, on the 28th July last, with
intent to murder her, and also attempting to com-
mit suicide on the same day, and at the same place.
Mr. Sleigh defended the prisoner.
Mr. and Mrs. Ricketts are connected with many
respectable families in the Tower Hamlets, and the
most lively interest was manifested in their behalf
by the people in the court, which was crowded to
excess.

Mr. Sleigh said the prisoner was very ill and
weak, and requested he might be accommodated
with a seat in the dock.
M-. Selfe—Certainly. Give Mr. Ricketts a chair.
The first witness called was Mrs. Eisen Ricketts,

a ladyl►ke woman, who was very deeply affected,
and gave evidence in a low tone and under excited
feelings. She stated that on the night of the 28th
of July, at a few minutes past 10 o'clock, she was
at super with her husband. Mrs. Chapman, a
lady residing in the same house, was present at the
commencement of the supper. Mr. Ricketts found
fault with a piece of bread on the table, and said it
was not a fit piece of bread to give him. She re-
plied, "I did not give it to you. It is on the table
by accident, and I will give you anothEr piece."
After Mrs. Chapman left the room her husband
took a clasp knife ►ut of his pocket. She could not
say whether it was then opened or closed He was
in a very excited state, and she was afraid he would
do harm to himself. She laid her hand on the col
and sleeve of his coat and said to him, " Put it out
of your hand." He would not, and she struggled
with him, and in that struggle received a wound.
She was endeavouring to extricate the knife
from his grasp when she was wounded. The wound
was on the left side of the neck. There was only
one wound. She was standing up at the time it
was inflicted. It bled a good deal, and when she
found the blood come she left the room.

In answer to questions by Mr. Selfe, the witness
said she believed her husband did not intend to
hurt her. Dr. Gill, his medical attendant, ordered
her to provide a proper attendant or keeper for her
husband several days before the occurrence hap-
pened, but she thought she could manage him
herself, as she knew he never intended to hurt
her. Her husband had been drinking a little the
day she was wounded.
In cross-examination by Mr. Sleigh, the witness
said her husband had an attack of delirium tremens,
and acted in a very rash and incoherent manner for
several days. He walked about the house nearly
naked, and flung many things from the windows.
She knew that the prisoner inflicted severe injuries
upon himself, but it was quite an accident that she
was hurt.

Mr. Selfe—Did you see him inflict a wound upon
himself ?
Witness—No, I did not. _ _

Mr. Sleigh—He did wound himself very severely
indeed, and was not in a fit state to be brought
before you until now.
Mr. Thomas Ladbrook, the landlord of the Mor-
gan Arms, Coborn-road, said my house is opposite
to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Ricketts. They
are very respectable people, and I have known them
eight or nine years. I am a most reluctant witness.
On the night of the 28th of July, about 10 o'clock,
I heard cries of " Help, help !" I went across the
road to my neighbour's house, and I saw Mrs. Chap-
man and her sister. They wished me to go into
the house, and said Mr. and Mrs. Ricketts were
quarrelling. I went in and saw them struggling
together in the breakfast parlour. At that time
Mrs. Ricketts was wounded, and I saw the blood
coming from htr neck. I took a knife from Mr.
R cketts and then left him alone.
I❑ answer to questions by Mr. Sleigh, the wit-
ness said Mr. Ricketts was not master of his
actions. He went into the house to protect Mrs.
Ricketts. '1 he prisoner was greatly excited, and
did not know what he was about or what he did.
Mrs. Ricketts was also i❑ an excited state.

Mrs. Emma Chapman, wife of George Chapman,
said—l reside in Mr. Ricketts' house in the Coborn-
road, B fw. I was at supper on the 28 hof July.
Mr. Ricketts c ,me in very much excited. He was
a in state of excitement all d ,y. He found much
fiult with the bread, and used an expression which
I will not repeat. 1 then left the room and went
upstairs. That was all 1 heard.
Henry Barnett, a police-constable, 279 K, stated
that, he was called to No. 24, Coborn-road, on the
night of the 28th of July. A great number of per-
sons were assembled about the house, and Mrs.
Ricketts, who was wounded, was then being taken
into the next dwelling. She said her husband had
stabbed her. He went into the house, and called
for Mr. Ripketts, who answered from the kitchen
"I am down here." He went downstairs and found
Mr. Ricketts there with his throat cut in a fright-
ful manner, and a bloody razor in his hand. He
took the razor from the prisoner and sent for Dr.
Gill. The prisoner had ever since been under me-
dical care at his own house. He asked Mr. Ricketts
how he came to do such a thing, and he said " It's
all owing to my wife."
Mr. Selfe—Was he conscious ?
Witness-1 judge he had been drinking.
Mr. Samuel L. Gill, physician and surgeon, of
Bow, said—l was sent for on the night of the 28th
of July to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Ricketts,
and found the prisoner on the floor, with a very
large wound on his neck. He was very incoherent,
and in so faint a condition from loss of blood that
I would not allow him to talk. I examined the
wound. He was not then bleeding to a very great
extent, for the wound had been sponged. My at-
tention was next directed to Mrs. Ricketts. She
was not losing much blood. Mr. Ricketts' wound
extended pretty well from one ear to the other. It
was a semicircular cut seven inches in length or
more, and carried back to the base of the tongue.
It fortunately missed the carotid artery on both
sides. I was in attendance on Mr. Ricketts before
this sad event, and strongly recommended Mrs.
Ricketts to have a keeper to look after her husband.
He was labouring under delirium tr limns, and was
not master of his own actions, and I feared he would
commit suicide. I had been in attendance on Mr.
Ricketts 14 or 15 years, and had no doubt whatever
that it was delirium tremens under which he was
labouring. I had a conversation with Mr. Ricketts
two or three days after he wounded himself, and he
said he should be more happy in his mind if he
could see his wife. I said you cannot see her, and
he asked the reason why. I told him he had
wounded his wife also, and that she was very bad.
He had been lying in a prostrate ccndition until
t hat moment, and he suddenly raised himself, and
said, " Good G,,d I I had not the slightest idea of
anything of kind."
Mr. Selte—Was that genuine?
Mr have no doubt it was. He had not
the least, notion of having wounded his wife till I
told him. He had previously said, " Let her come
and see, she will not be afraid to look at the wound."
When I told him Mrs. Ricketts was wounded he
expressed the deepest reoTet, and said, " I hope she
will torgivo me before I die ; she must be aware I
had lost my senses."
Mr. Selfe—Does that observation apply to him-
self?
Mr. Gill—Yes. I asked him a question. He said
he remembered blood flowing very freely from his
neck, but he did not know how it occurred.
Mr. Selfe—N oa have heard the police constable's
evidence?
Mr. Gill-1 have, sir. Mr. Ricketts still requires
to be under medical care. He is suffering from loss
of blood and exhaustion.
In answer to Mr. Sleigh, the doctor said—The
wound on Mrs. Ricketts neck is a superficial one
on the left side. Pbelieve it was caused by acci-
lent. The knife sliced off. It was not a direct
stab. I believe it might have been caused by her
suddenly
snatching her arm away as she has de-
scribed. I may mention one thing. I told Mrs.
Ricketts not to sleep in that house again without
protection a few days before this happened, and I
lectured her severely only the day before this did
occur for not acting on my instructions.
Mr. Selfe---What security have we that this will
not occur again ?
Mr. Sleigh said that besides the tender care and
attention of an attached wife, a keeper had been in
attendance on Mr. Ricketts since he wounded him-
self, and that he was under strict surveillance.
Nothing had been left undone by the brothers and
other relatives of the unfortunate gentleman to
prevent a recurrence of the unhappy affair, and
it was the earnest wish of the family and con.:
; noxious of Mr. Ricketts, and of Mrs. Ricketts

herself, that he should not be sent to prison or de •
-
tsined in custody for a moment. All that was neces-
sary had been done for the future welfare of the pri-
soner. For the last, three years he had been uncontrol-
able, carrying razors about,flourishing them, throw-
ing crockery and other things from his windows, and
acting in a most eccentric manner. Mrs. Ricketts
was somewhat to blame because she had not acted
on the judicious advice of so eminent a member of
the faculty as Dr. Gill, who knew her husband's
failings, and warned her.
Mr. Selfe—Dr. Gill has acted with the greatest
caution, care, and skill.
Mr. Sleigh---I quite agree With you, sir. The
wound inflicted on Ars. Ricketts was quite acci-
dental, and under the circumstances 1 feel assured
you will discharge Mr. Ricketts, and his wife, his
brothers, and many others will take care that he
does not commit violence again.
Mr. Selfe—What you say as regards the wife is
perfectly true. The charge would fail if I committed
him for trial for wounding his wife. It was no
doubt an accident. As regards the other charge,
the only object in sending him for trial would be
his security. Under the circumstances. and in the
fall belief that he is in good hands, that measures
have been taken for his security, and that he deeply
regrets what he has done, I shall discharge him.
The decision gave much satisfaction to the nume-
rous friends and connections of Mr. Ricketts in the
I court.

WANDSWORTH.—THE CHILD MURDER AT
THE RESIDENCE OF JENNY LlND.—Susan Arter,
aged 28, late kitchenmaid in the establishment of
the celebrated Jenny Lind, was finally examined
before Mr. Dayman on a charge of wilfully mur-
dering her illegitimate male child by forcing some
blunt instrument down his throat, at Argyll Lodge,
Wimbledon-common, on the 14th of July last.
The prisoner appeared still very ill, and was
accommodated with a seat in the dock. Mr. Lewis,
jun., defended her.
The first witness examined was Eliza Emma
Chapman, who stated that she was housemaid in
the service of Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, of Argyll
Lodge, Wimbledon-common. The prisoner was,
until recently, in the same service as kitchenmaid,
and slept in the same room with her, but occupied
a separate bed. About tour o'clock on Monday
morning, the 14th of July last, she was aroused by
hearing a noise in the room. She got up, and
found the prisoner sitting by the window in a
fainting state. Witness bathed her face, and when
she recovered she assisted her to her bed. Witness
returned to hec own bed, but she had not been there
long before the prisoner again fainted. Witness
bathed her face a second time, and on recovering
she expressed a desire for a cup of tea, and said she
would be better after having one. Witness dressed
herself, and went down stairs and made some tea.
She took her a cup of tea and then left her. The
witness further stated that the prisoner told her
that she had been taken ill, hut she did not explain
the nature of the illness. She never told witness
she was in the familyway, and she was not the least
aware of it. She had certainly observed that the
prisoner had looked rather stout latterly. Mr.
Goldschmidt was examined at the inquest, but he
was now abroad.

Cross-examined—The prisoner appeared very
weak. She did not appear delirious at the time.
She was ill afterwards. She was light-headed at
times during her illness.
Inspector Ayre, of the V division, said that on
the 15th of July he went to Argyll Lodge in con-
sequence of information he had received, and saw
Mr. Goldschmidt. He also saw the prisoner, who
was in bed, and told her that he wanted to look in
her boxes to see if there were any articles of baby
linen. He then showed her a key he had received
from Mr. Goldschmidt, and inquired if it was the
key of her other box, and she answered that it was.
She requested that the box might be brought for-
ward, and a box was accordingly brought from Mr.
Goldschmidt's study. He opened the box in her
presence, and found inside the dead body of a male
infant, wrapped in the skirt of an old dress. He
also searched that box for baby linen, but could not
find any. He returned all the things, together with
the dead body, into the box, locked it up and kept
the key. The same evening he had the box re-
moved to the Park Tavern, Wandsworth, where an
inquest was held on the body. A verdict of wilful
murder was returned against the prisoner. On the
17th of July he conveyed the prisoner to the in-
firmary of Wandsworth Workhouse. She made no
statement, nor did he when she charged her at the
police-station, on the 16th inst.
Mr. Robert Willis, surgeon, of Barnes, said that
on the 14th of July he was called to Mr: Gold-
schmidt's, and he saw that gentleman sitting upon a
box. He found in it a bundle containing the body
of a full-grown male child. He was then impressed
with the detp colour of the body from the collar
bone upwards. It was a dark colour, and the rest
of the body was very pale. He saw and examined
the prisoner, and :ound her state consistent with
her having recently given birth to a child. He said
to her, "You unhappy woman, how is it you made
no preparation for this poor little child ?" but she
made no reply. He then asked her whether the
child had cried, and she replied that it cried a little.
He attended an inquest on the holy, and by direc-
tion of the coroner he made a postmortem examina-
tion. He found evidence of injury abou, the head,
and rarticularly great mechanical violence inter-
nally to the throat, the parts of which were severed.
His impressio❑ was that something hard, such as a
jagged piece of stick, had been thrust down the
throat, and so caused the disseveration. He tried
his finger do vn the throat, but could not reach the
disseveration of the parts. His opinion was that
the child died from that violence. The chest was
healthy, and the lungs fully expanded. His belief
was that the child was born alive, and had breathed
freely.
Mr. Lewis said the prisoner would reserve her
defence.
Mr. Dayman said she would be fully committed
to take her trial at the September Sessions of the
Central Criminal Court.

Mr. Lewis said Mr. Goldschmidt would appear at
the sessions. He was at present out of town.
Mr. Taylor (the clerk) explained that Mr. Gold-
schmidt and the other witnesses were bound over
by the coroner to appear at the assizes, but in con-
sequence of the illness of the prisoner the trial did
not take place, and their bail was respited till
the sessions,
The prisoner, who made no attempt to speak, was
then removed.

LOSING ONE'S OLD FRIENDS.

(From Fraser's Magazine.)

There is a sad thing which we are all made to feel
as we are going on. It is, that we are growing out
of things which we are sorry to outgrow. The
firmest conviction that we are going on to what is
better cannot suppress some feeling of regret at the
thought of what we are leaving behind. When I
was a country parson I used to feel very sorry to see
a laurel or a yew growing out of the shape in which
I remembered it, and which was associated with
pleasant days. There was a dull pang at the sight.
I remember well a little yew I planted with my own
hand. It looks like yesterday since I held its top,
while a certain man filled in the earth and put the
sod round its stem. For some time it seemed doubt-
ful if that yew would live and grow ; at last it was
fairly established, and began to grow vigorously
the second year. For a year or two more it was a
neat shaggy little thing ; but then it began to put
out tremendous shoots, and to grow out of my ac-
quaintance. I felt I was losing an old friend. Many
a time I had stood and looked at the little yew ; I
knew every branch of it, and always went to look at
it when I had been a few days away. No doubt it
was growing better ; it was progressing with a
yew's progress ; I was getting a new friend better
than the old one; and yet I sighed for the old one
that was gradually leaving me. You do not like to
think that your little child must grow into some-
thing quite different iron] what it is now ; must die
into the grown up man or woman ; must grow har.
dened to the world and cease to be as lovable as now.
You would like to keep 'the little thing as it is—
when it climbs on your knee and lays a little soft
cheek against your own. Even in the big girl of
seven that goes to school, you regret the wee child
of three that you used to run after on the little green
before your door, and in the dawn of cleverness and
Thought, though pleasant to see, you still feel there
is something gone which you would have liked to
keep. But it is an inevitable law, that you cannot
have two inconsistent good things together. You
cannot at once have your field green as it is in th_e,
spring, and golden as it is in autumn. You cannot
at once live in the little dwelling which
wealth
was
longe
your home, and which is surrounded by
me-
mories of many years, and in the morer beautiful
th
ea and
commodious mansion which your increasing eaat once be the
has been able to buy. You can".
merchant prince, wealthy, In°uential, esteemed by
all, though gouty, agneing, and careworn ; and the
hopeful, lighthearted lad that came in from the
country to push his waY,
and on whose early aspira-
tions and struggles you look back with a confused
feeling, as though he were another being. Yon
cannot at the acme
te time be a country parson, lei-
o
eurely and quiet, liVing AlUong green fields and,

trees, and knowing the concerns of every soul in
your parish. and hare the privilege and stimulus of
preaching to a congregation of educated folk in town.
Yet you would look round in silence and regret,
when you look for the last time on the scenes amid
which you passed some considerable part of your
life—even though you felt that the new place of
your labours and your lot were ever so much
better. And,-though yon know it is well that your
children should grow up into men and women, still
you will sometimes be sorry that their happy child-
hood must pass so swiftly and so completely away ;
that it must be so entirely lost to that which is to
come after it ; that even in the healthy maturity of
body and of mind, there is so little that recals to
you the merry little boy or girl you used to know.
Yes; we may have got on to something that is un-
questionably better; but still we miss the dear old
time and way. It is as with the emigrant, who has
risen to wealth and position in the new world
across the sea ; but who often thinks with fond re-
gret of the hills of his native land; and who,
through all these years, has never forgotten the cot-
tage where he drew his first breath, and the little
churchyard where his father and mother are sleep-
ing. Yes ; you little man with the very curly hair,
standing at that sofa, turning over the leaves of a
large Bible with pictures ; stay as you are as long
as you can ! For I may live to see von grow into
something far less pleasant to see ; but I shall never
live to see you Lord Chancellor; though that dis-
tinguished post, it is well known, is the natural
destination of a Scotch clergyman's son.