The Sun.
London, England, 1854-01-23 00:00:00

Now ready, 'Vole I. to IV. (to be completed in Five Vole ), price Bs.
each,
sin EDWARD BuLwEr, LYTTON'S
POETICAL and 1 R kMATIC WORKS. Now first collected,
a,d containing many poems never bef ,re published.
" Not the least striking evidences of the poet's genius, of the
th'nker's intellectual activity. Fan..,y and reeling av e richly dis-
plaN ed in all, and in a few referring to classical strjects the scholar
declares himself equally with the poet in their learned felicity and
imaginative subtlety of allusion."—Examiner.
London: Chapman and Hall, 193, Piccadilly.

On Saturday next will be published, in fcp. Bvo. with Two Plates
by B. 11, rring,
RECORDS of the CHASE and MEMOIRS of
CELEBRATED SPORTSMEN ; illustrating some of the
Usages of 0' den times, and comparing them with prevailing Customs :
Together with an Introduction to most of the Fashionable Hunting
Countries; and Comments. By CECIL, Anthor of " The Stud
Farm" and " Stable Practice."
London : Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans.

DR. CUMMING'S NEW WORK.
This day, in fcp , cloth, full gilt, price 95.,
THE TENT AND THE ALTAR ; or, Sketches
FROM PATRIARCHAL LIFE. By the Rev. JOHN CUM-
Ni I NG, n.D., F.R.S.E., with vignettes, uniform with "Apocalyptic
',ketches."
Arthur Hall, Virtue and Co , 25, Paternoster-row.

This day, in post Bvo , with vignettes, 600 pp., neatly bound, price
lOs 6d.,
ROME, REGAL AND REPUBLICAN, a His-
tory for Families. By JANE STRICKLAND, edited by
Agnes Strickland, Author of "Lives of the Queens of England," &c.
Arthur Hall, Virtue and Co., 25, Paternoster•row.

ROBERT COCKS • and. CO.'S OCTAVO
ED TION of" MESSIAH," from Mozart's Score, with the
A ppendix. By JOHN BISHOP. Imp. Bvo., pp. 257, 6s. 6d. ; folio, 15s.
ROBERT COCKS and CO.'S OCTAVO
EDITION of "THE CREATION." By JouN BISHOP
p 5v0., np. 181, 45. 6d. ; folio, 15s.
ROBERT COCKS and. CO.'S OCTAVO
EDITION of " SA.MSON." By Dr. CLARKE. Imp. Bvo.,
pp. 324, Cs.; folio, by JOHN BIS tOP, 154.
London : Robert Cocks and Co., Publishers to the Queen, New
Burlington- 'tre.t
HAYDN'S CREATION.—ROBERT COCKS
and CO.'S STAN,ARD OCTAVO EDITIO. 4s 6d.
V:. itors to St. M .rtin'e Hall on Wednesday, the 25th, will find this
elegant Handbook a suitable companion. It will be equally a:pro-
priate as a handsome memorial upon the drawing-room table or
piano orte. Specimen pages (or the work itself) may be had at St.
Martin's Hall, Long-acre.

THE FAMOUS HIGHLAND CLOAK.-
A variety of MACDOUGALL'S FAMOUS HIGHLAND
CLOAKS, in all colours, may be seen at
Messrs. POOLE and MACGILLIVRAY'S,
25, Princes-street, Cavendish-square,
as well as samples of the materials of which they are made.

R. ALBERT SMITH'S MONT BLANC,
r includmz the BERNESE OBERLAND and the SIMPLON,
EVERY EVENING at Eight o'Clock, (except Slturday), and
Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday Moridnus, at Two Stalls, 35.,
which can be taken at the hox offic-, eve'y day from II to 4 ; area,
25.; gallery, Is —Mont Blanc, Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly.

GEOLOGY.—Kin's College, London.—Pro-
fessor TENNANT, F.Cr R., will give a COURSE of LEC.
TURES on GEOLOGY. To commence on WEDNESDAY MORNING,
January 25th, at Nine o'clock, and to be continued on each succeed•
ing Friary and Wednesday, at the ame hour.
R. W. JELF, D.D., Principal.

MORRIS'S BLACK SWAN HOTEL,
SNIG-HILL, SHEFFIELD.
Commercial Gentlemen and others are respectfully solicited to give
this Hotel a trial. The house has been thoroughly Re-furnished, and
affords every domestic comfort.

Spacious and excellent Stabling.
T. S. and R. M. MORRIS (late Head Waiters at the Royal Hotel
Sheffield, and Angel Hotel, Whitby), Proprietors.

THE CONSERVATIVE LANDof d
SOCETY.
The foil wing returns show the progress this Ireehol
Franchise undertaking from its commencement to the Fourteenth
Public Drawing. The number of Shares is.ued and Cash received
urine the first five quarters are as follows :

Date. Shares In Shares Total. Cash.
Progress. 'ompleted
1852.
Sept. 7to Dec. 24.. 1,360 187 1,547 £12,161 11 0
1853.
Dec. 24 to Nlarch 24 1,347 83 1,430 8.083 0 6
June 24 .......... 1,462 217 1,679 17,401 15 3
Sept mber 29 ... •• 1,310 168 1,474 18,424 18 11
December 24 ...... 1,547 143 I 1,590 20,302 211
Total.. •• .... 7,026 798 7,824 t 76,377 8 7

Shares taken from the 7th of September, 1852, to tlge Four-
teenth Public Drawing on January 14, 1854 •• • • • • ...... 8,406
hhares on the Order of Rights by completion, by public draw-
-I,.gs, and be seniority .• •• •• ••• • . .............. 2,?24
Last Share No. on the Order of Rights by seniority...... • • 712
Subscribed Capital •• ••..•• •• •• •• £420,300 0 0
Paid up .. .•••• •• • •
Bonus realised on shares during the first year .. • • •• Six per cent.
Interest now allowed on completed shares, and on
payments of N year's subscription and fees, and
upwards, in advance •• •••••• •• •• •• .. ••• Five per cent.
Estates purchased .........................Sixteen.
++allotted •• •• •• • • • • •••• •• •• • Eight.
„ ready for allotment .......... •• • • Five.
CHARLES LEWIS GRUNEISEN, Secretary.
33, Norfolk-street, Strand, London, Jan. 14, 1851.

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[ PRICE SD•

iresume to arrogat; e ado. of the pretc ; bs)
eve e, as a.r .f books, and a man of e -world, that
nherit a re ,gion which, in its most familiar form, in
e • ly prayer that you learned from your mother's
lips, will save you from the temptations to whit 1 life i 9
exposed, more surely than all which the pride .of philo-
sophy can teach. (Loud applause.) Nor can J. believe
that the man will ever go very far or very otrot%inately
wrong who, by the mere habit of thanksgivi.n g and
prayer, will be forced to examine his conscience, e von but
once a day, and remember that the eye of the Aln'xightY
is upon him. 'One word further. Nothing, to my r.O ind,
preserves a brave people true and firm to its heredi't'ary
virtues more than a devout though liberal spirit:, of
nationality. (Applause.) And it is not because Scot-
land is united with England that the Scotchman should.
forget the glories of his annals, the tombs of his an',
cestors, or relax one jot of his love for his native soil.'
(Applause.) I say not this to flatter you—l say it nest for
Scotland alone. I say it for the sake of the empire. .For
sure I am that. if ever the step of the invader should land
upon these kindred shores—there, wherever the national
spirit is the most strongly felt—there, where the local :4-
fections most animate the breast—there will our defendei
be the bravest. (Applause.) It would ill become me tcr
enter into the special grounds of debate now at issue ; but
permit me to remind you that, while pressing with your
accustomed spirit for whatever you may deem to be eqi-tal
rights, you would be untrue to your own fame if you d id
not feel that the true Majesty of Scotland needs neither
the pomp of courts nor the blazonry of heralds. What'
though Holyrood be desolate—what th3ugh no king holds
revels in its halls—the empire of Scotland has but extended
its range ; and, blended with England, under the daughter
of your ancient kings, peoples the Australian wilds that
lay beyond the chart of Columbus, and rules over the In-
dian realms that eluded the grasp of Alexander. (Loud
applause.) That empire does not suffice for you. It may
decay—it may perish. More grand is the domain you have
won over human thought, and identified with the ete_rnal
progress of intellect and freedom. (Renewed applaus,e.)
From the charter of that domain no ceremonial can
dis-
place the impression of your seal. In the van of that pro-
gress no blazon can flaunt before that old Lion of Scotland
(pointing to the flag suspended opposite.) (Great cheering.)
This is the empire that you will adorn' in peace ; this is the
empire that, if need be, you will defend in war. It is net
here that I would provoke one difference in political opinion
—but surely you, the sons of Scotland, who hold both
fame and power upon the same tenure as that which
secures civilisation from lawless force—surely you are not
the men who could contemplate with folded arms the re-
turn of the dark ages, and quietly render up the haven
that commands Asia on the one side and threatens Europe
on the other, to the barbaric ambition of some new Alone
of the north. (Loud applause.) But, whether in reluc-
tant war or in happier peace, I can but bid yon be mindful
of your fathers—learn from them how duties fulfilled in
the world become honours after death ; and in your va-
rious callings continue to maintain for Scotland her su-
blime alliance with every power of mind that can defend or
instruct, soothe or exalt humanity. (Sir Edward resumed
his seat amidst loud and continued applause, the audience
rising to their feet en masse.)
Lord ROBERTSON said—l am sure there Sno one pre-
sent who could go home with anything like peace of mind,
if the sentiment which must pervade the whole of this
meeting were not somehow or other expressed—the senti-
ment of gratitude to the distinguished Baronet for the un-
rivalled harangue which has just concluded. (Cheers.) It
is unnecessary for me to say anything more than to con-
vey, in your name, to him our most sincere thanks for the
instruction which we have now received from his eloquent
lips. (Cheers.) Ido not know intimately the constitution
of the associated societies ; but this I know, that they
could not have chosen a more admirable president, nor
done anything more likely to promote the designs of that
classical union which they constitute in our University,
than to select him who has, in the brilliant speech which
we have now heard, given us so much instruction and en-
tertainment. (Cheers.) The presence of that distinguished
individual prevents me from saying more; and all I will
add is, that if you will permit me, as a Scotchman, to re-
turn thanks for the way in which lie has spoken of my
native country, I would say cf him that he is as great an
honour to England as Sir Walter Scott was to Scotland.
(Cheers.)
Sir E. B. LYTTON—I am at a loss for words to express
to you the gratitude which I feel for the attention with
which you have listened to a long and, perhaps,
from its very nature, a somewhat formal and dry
discourse. (Cries of " No, no," and cheers.) lam still
less able to thank you for the sympathy you have expressed
in the too flattering compliment paid me by the distin-
guished personage who has brought me again before you.
Amongst the many causes which have combined to render
this inauguration so gratifying to me, is the feeling that
my election has not been attended with the bitterness of
contest—that it was rendered unanimous by the courtesy
of the eminent nobleman who, though bearing one of the
most illustrious names in Scotland (the Duke of Argyll),
worthily supported in his own person, deferred his claims
on your favour to those which your kindness ascribed
to me. (Cheers.) In this, it seems to me that he was
desirous to establish your old reputation for hospitality,
by giving you the occasion to prove how well you can
receive a stranger. (Cheers.) I must own that I have
been somewhat embarrassed this day, not only by my re-
spect for the judgment, necessarily fastidious, of an audi-
ence comprising men so eminent for scholarship and science,
but also by the unexpected effect of a display of such charms
and attractions, in the gentler part of this assembly, as
might well bewilder the most practised orator, and turn
the head of the coldest sage. (Laughter.) On my return
to the sister metropolis, if I hear conceited gentlemen de-
clare that they ate quite biases with the beauties of Lon-
don ball-rooms, I shall tell them that, in order to regain
the freshness of the faculty of admiration, they must come
here and take a glance at the beauties of Edinburgh.
(Laughter and cheers.) It remains for me only to assure
you of the deep interest I shall always take in your Col-
lege, your capital, your country. By birth lam an Eng-
lishman, it is true ; but it seems to me that, from this day,
lam almost a Scotchman by adoption. (Loud cheers.)
The proceedings then terminated.

dides represent the intense interest with which the Gre-
cian intellect was accustomed to view the action and
strife, the sorrow and triumph, of the human beings, from
whom it .never stood superciliously aloof. Though the
father of philosophical history. Thucydides knows no-
thing of that cynical irony which is common to the mo-
dern spirit of historical philosophy in its cold survey of
the follies and errors of. mankind. He never neglects to
place full before you whatever ennobles our species, whe-
ther it be the lofty sentiment of Pericles or the hardy
valour of Brasidas. It is his candid sympathy with what-
ever in itself is pod and great which vivifies his sombre
chronicle, and rend, rs him at once earnest yet impartial.
Each little bay or creek, each defile or pass, A here gallant
deeds have been done, he describes with the conviction that
the deeds have hallowed the place to all posterity, and
have become a part of that eri)pa etc au which he pro-
posed to bequeath. This is the spirit which returns to
life in your own day and in your own historians, which
gives a classic charm to the military details of Napier,
and lights with a patriot's fire the large intelligence and pro-
found research that immortalise the page of Alison. (Loud
applause.) Pass from history to oratory. All men in
modern times, famous for their eloquence, have recognised
Demosthenes as their model. Many speakers in our own
country have literally translates passages from his orations,
and produced electrical effects upon sober English senators
by thoughts first uttered to passionate Athenian crowds.
Why is this ? Not from the style—the style vanishes in
translation—it is because thoughts the noblest appeal to
emotions the most masculine and popular. You see in
Demosthenes the man accustomed to deal with the prac-
tical business of men—to generalise details, to render com-
plicated affairs clear to the ordinary understanding—
and, at the same time, to connect the material interests
of life with the sentiments that warm the breast and
exalt the soul. It is the brain of an accomplished states-
man in unison with a generous heart, thoroughly in earn-
est, beating loud and high with the passionate desire to
convince breathless thousands—how to baffle a danger,
and to save their country. (Applause.) A little time
longer, and Athens is free no more. The iron force of
Macedon has banished liberty from the silenced Agora.
But liberty had already secured to herself a gentle re-
fuge in the groves of the Academe—there, still to the
last, the Grecian intellect maintains the same social,
humanising, practical aspect. The immense mind of
Aristotle gathers together as in a treasure-house for
future ages, all that was valuable in the knowledge that
informs us of the earth on which we dwell—the political
constitutions of States, and their results on the character
of nations, the science of ethics, the analysis of ideas, natu-
ral history, physical science, critical investigation, omne
immensum, peragravit ; and all that he collects from
wisdom he applies to the earthly uses of man. (Hear,
hear.) Yet it is not by the tutor of Alexander, but by
the pupil of Socrates, that our vast debt to the Grecian
mind is completed. When we remount from Aristotle to
his great master, Plato—it is as if we looked from nature
up to nature's God. There, amidst the decline of free-
dom, the corruption of manners—just before the date
when, with the fall of Athens, the beautiful ideal of sen-
suous life faded mournfully away—there, on that verge of
time stands the consoling Plato, preparing philosophy to
receive the Christian dispensation, by opening the gates of
the Infinite, and proclaiming the immortality of the
soul. (Applause.) Thus the Grecian genius, ever kindly
and benignant, first appears to awaken man from the
sloth of the senses, to enlarge the boundaries of self,
to connect the desire of glory with the sanctity of
household ties, to raise up in luminous contrast with
the inert despotism of the old Eastern world—the ener-
gies of freemen, the duties of citizens ; and, finally,
accomplishing its mission as the visible Iris, to States
and heroes, melts into the rainbow, announcing a more
sacred covenant, and spans the streams of the Heathen
Orcus with an arch lost in the Christian's Heaven.
(Applause.) I have so exhausted your patience in what I
have thus said of the Grecian literature that I must limit
closely my remarks upon the Roman. And here, in-
deed, the subject does not require the same space. In
the Greek literature all is fresh and original ; its v. ry
art is but the happiest seleotion from natural objects
knit together with the zone of the careless Graces.'
But the Latin literature is borrowed and adopted ; and,
like all imitations, we perceive at once that it is arti-
ficial—but in this imitation it has much exquisite taste,
in this artificiality there is so much refinement of polish,
so much stateliness of pomp—that it assumes an origin-
ality of its own. It has not found its jewels in native \
mines, but it takes them, with a conqueror's hand,
and weaves them into regal diadems. Dignity and
polish are the especial attributes of Latin literature
iu its happiest age ; it betrays the habitual influence
of au aristocracy, wealthy, magnificent, and learned.
To borrow a phrase from Persius—its words sweep along
as if clothed with the toga. Whether we take the sonorous
lines of Virgil or the swelling periods of Cicero, the easier
dignity of Sallust, or the patrician simplicity of Caesar, we
are sensible that we see with a race accustomed to a mea-
sured decorum, a majestic self-control, unfamiliar to the
more lively impulse of small Greek communities. There
is a greater demarcation between the intellect of the
writer and the homely sense of the multitude. The Latin
writers seek to link themselves to posterity rather through
a succession of select and well-bred admirers than by cor-
dial identification with the passions and interests of the
profane vulgar. Even Horace himself, so brilliant an d
easy, and so conscious of his monumentum core perennius,
affects disdain of popular applause, and informs us with
a kind of pride that his satires had no vogue in the haunts
of the common people. Every bold schoolboy takes at
once to Homer, but it is only the fine taste of the scholar
that thoroughly appreciates Virgil ; and only the experi-
enced man of the world who discovers all the delicate wit,
all the exquisite urbanity of sentiment, that win our affec-
tion to Horace in proportion as we advance in life.
In short, the Greek writers warm and elevate
our emotions as men the Latin writers temper
emotions to the stately reserve of highborn gentle-
men. The Greeks Ere us more to the inspirations of
poetry, (or as in Plato and parts of Demosthenes) to that
sublimer prose to which poetry is akin, but the Latin
writers are perhaps on the whole, though I say it with
hesitation, safer models for that accurate construction and
decorous elegance by which classical Prose divides itself
from the forms of verse. Nor is this elegance effeminate,
but, on the contrary, nervous and robust, though, like the
statue of Apollo, the strength of the muscle is concealed
by the undulation of the curves. (Applause.) But there
is this, as a general result from the study of an.ient letters,
whether Greek or Roman. Both are the literature of
grand races, of free men and brave hearts. Both abound
in generous thoughts and high examples ; both, whatever
their occasional license, inculcate upon the whole the ha-
bitual practice of manly virtues ; both glowing with the
love of country ; both are animated by the desire of fame
and honour. Therefore, whatever may be our future pro-
fession and pursuit, however they may take us from the
scholastic closet, and forbid any frequent return to the clas-
sic studies of our youth, still he whose early steps have been
led into that land of demi-gods and heroes will find that
its very air has enriched through life the blood of his
thoughts, that he quits the soil with a front which the
Greek has directed towards the stars, and a step which
imperial Rome has disciplined to the march that carried
her eagles round the world. (Loud applause.) Not in
vain do these lessons appeal to the youth of Scotland.
From this capital, still as from the elder Athens, stream
the lights of philosophy and learning. But your country-
men are not less renowned for the qualities of action than
for those of thought. And you whom I address will carry
with you, in your several paths to fortune, your national
attributes of reflective judgment and dauntless courage.
(Great applause.) I see an eventful and stirring age ex-
pand before the rising generation. In that grand contest
between new ideas and ancient forms, which may be still
I
more keenly urged before this century expires, whatever
your differences of political opinion, ,adjure yohia
with
it
is
hold fast the vital principle of civilisation. W
that principle? It is the union of liberty
order. The art to preserve this union as often
baffled the wisest statesman in stormy times ; but
the task becomes easy at once, if the people whom
they seek to guide will but carry into public
affairs the same prudent consideration which com-
mands prosperity iu private business. You have already
derived from your ancestors an immense capital of political
freedom ; increase it if you will—but by solid investments,
not by hazardous speculations. You will hear much of
the necessity of progress, and truly ; for where progress
ends decline invariably begins ; but remember that the
healthful progress of society is like the natural life of man
—it consists in the gradual and harmonious development
of all its constitutional powers, all its component parts,
and you introduce weakness and disease into the whole
system, whether you attempt to stint or t 6 force the growth.
The old homely rule you prescribe to the individual is ap-
plicable to a State—Keep the limbs warm by exercise, and
keep the head cool by temperance. But new ideas do not
invade only our political systems ; you will find them
wherever you turn. Philosophy has altered the direc-
tions it favoured in the last century—it enters less into
metaphysical inquiry, it questions less the relationships
between man and 1141 Maker, it assumes its practical
character as the investigator of external nature, and
seeks to adapt agencies before partially concealed to the
positive uses of man. Here I leave you to your own
bold researches ; you cannot be much mislead, if you re-
member the maxim, to observe with vigilance, and in-
quire with conscientious care. Nor is it necessary that
I should admonish the sons of religious Scotland that the
most daring speculations as to Nature may be accom-
panied with the humblest faith in those sublime doctrines
that open heaven alike to the wisest philosopher and the
simplest peasant. (Hear, and loud applause.) Ido not

MURDER OF A BRITISH OFFICER.—The Volcano
steam-vessel, Commander Robert Coote, has brought
home intelligence of the murder of Acting Second Master
Carr, a fine young officer, who was turned over from
the Prometheus steam-sloop to the Myrmidon steam
vessel, still serving on the west coast of Africa, as she
has six months of her time to serve on that unhealthy'
station. The murder was brutally effected on the 28th.
of November, at an island called Kanzabac, one of the
Bijonga group. Mr. Carr had landed on some rocks, in-
tending to spear fish. He had not been on the rocks ton
minutes when he was fired at from the bush, and he either
tumbled or jumped into the sea. The savages instantly
made their appearance, and one of them ran down and stood.
on the rocks, where he watched till Carr rose, the impres-
sion on board the steamer being that he had dived, and
the African then shot him through the head. The whole
transaction was done in so short a time, that as a gun.
was fired from the ship the murderers retreated into the'
bush again. A boat was instantly sent to the rocks,
but the tide had flowed so rapidly that no traces of Mr.
Carr's body could be seen. On the following day the
body was found in the water quite dead. The first shot
had hit him the abdomen, and was an awful wound,
which would of itself have caused death. The second.
shot passed in alongside the nose, destroying the upper
jaw, and lodging in or close to the brain. The officers
and crew of the Myrmidon were burning for revenge for
the foul and uncalled for murder, but they could do
nothing, as there are no towns near the sea, and to ad-
vance into a country thickly inhabited with armed men,
was not warranted with the small disposable force serves
ing in the Myrmidon.
THE CONVICT CUMMING.—In the case of William
Cumming, capitally convicted before the High Court of
Justiciary in Edinburgh, for the murder of his wife, and
who was left for execution on Monday, the 9th inst., we
stated that a respite had been sent from the Home-offic.e
on the evening before (Saturday). This respite was'
granted for a fortnight, in order to give time for inquiry
into allegations put forward on behalf of the culprit,
and emanated from a request of the law authorities in.
p bt
eudr gt ho
tt
ho
ientvh2eEa3s tdtdeieidnf fnbes
uitc
n.
rt
g.
htt
(to-morrow
The
lrexecutionThey
t—hwHeba
ysi
egxhteh c virtueceuroteoibot%oyuti
Ereds
i
ao fn J
authorityns tici a y
until the 25th—Wednesday next. Lord Palmerst on,
however, has yesterday written, in reply to the applioa:
how
tions in favour of the unhappy man, to express his regrot
that no case had been made upon which he could advise
a reversal of the judgment of the court and the jury bp'
which he was condemned, and that, therefore, the law'
must take its course.—Observer.
RESPITE OF THE CONVICT TAPNER.--On Tuesday
last a communication was received by the Lieutenant-
Governor of Guernsey, Lieutenant-General Sir John.
Bell, through the Home-office, and returning a petition
which had been presented for a commutation of sentences
for the purpose of it being referred to the Royal Court
of Guernsey, before whom the prisoner was tried, foil.
their report and observations thereon. The petition.
having been taken into consideration, the observatio,qg
of the court were transmitted by the mail, and were ro•
ceived at the Home-office on Saturday last. Pendinlst
the answer of the appeal to the clemency of the Crown,.
the execution of the prisoner, which had been fixed for
Friday, the 27th inst., is postponed ; and the unfort
nate man had been respited until the 3d of February.
THE PAVEMENTS OF THE MErnorows.—We are sorr.,f
to find that the c,,llection of snow is stili suffered to re,
main on the pavement outside the railing of Hyde-parar e'
ks
from the Marble Arch to the corner of the Edgw
road, effectually preventing all use of the pavement h
the public, and otherwise causing vast annoyance and
inconvenience. Surely, it must be somebody's busine
ar
to see that this public nuisance is at once removed; d-
if, being on the footpath instead of in the road, it is nTt,
actually the duty of the parish contractor to remove it,
the authorities of the Woods and Forests' Departtnevit
ought to see that the lodge-keeper removes the obstruct..
tion, or employs a sufficient number of men for a short:
time for the purpose. At present, one of the principal
sites in the metropolis is a scandal and an eyesore, asad.
a disgrace to all concerned. ,
—Onl.nursuay last an oper,i,..
FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT.
.e
tive in the Belfast IronNiVpeortkhsr,ouwghhilswthsiuehckimngolwteinthirhoi:
mouth the air out of a p
was to pass—a usual custom in the process—he swallowed.
a portion of the melted mass, receiving terrible inter-nal
injuries. A hope exists of his ultimate recovery.