The Sun.
London, England, 1853-02-02 00:00:00

CORN EXCHANGE.

The supply of English wheat in to-day's market was
chiefly composed of Monday's unsold samples, the general
condition of which was very inferior. The tendance of
buyers was limited, whilst the demand was in a depressed
state, at almost nominal currencies.

The imports of foreign wheat are 5,750 quarters, chiefly
from the lower Baltic ports. For all kinds we had a dull
inquiry, and in some instances, prices had a downward
tendency. Floating cargoes commanded scarcely any
attention.

Malting barley was held at full quotations ; but grinding
and distilling sorts were dull in the extreme. In malt,
very little was doing.
The oat trade was heavy, but we have no further decline
o notice in prices.
Beans, peas, and flour, were quite neglected.
ABRIVALB TIIIs WEEIL
Barley. I Malt.
2,250 2,630

English ..

'oreign

Wheat.
510

5,750

WHITECHAPEL.

Oath.
80

10,210

Flour.
I t3O

260

Geners,ll7 speaking the trade i s firm, at full prices.
Beef, 2s 6d. to 3s 6(1; mutton, 3s 4cl to 4s 4d ; veal, 3s Gd.to
4s 10d; pork, 2s 8d to' 4s per Blbs by the carcase.

BOROUGH HOP.
Higher rates have been paid this week for nearly all
new hops, the demand for which is somewhat active.

LLOYD'S SHIPPING--(THIS DAY.)

LONDON, Feb. 2.—Wind. at Noon, E.S.E. Light airs,
and fine. It has been very foggy all the morning until
now.

DEAL, Feb. I.—Wind, N.W. Arrived from the River—
Senator, Adelaide, South Australia.
FALMOUTH, Feb. I.—Wind, S.S.E. Arrived—Sarah,
Bahia.

LrvEEPoot, Feb.l.—Wind, S.S.W. to S.S.E. Arrived
—Chase, Charleston ; Jas. Scott, Singapore ; Levant,
Buenos Ayres ; Heart of Oak, Pernambuco • Star of the
West, New York ; Saracen, St. John, N.B.° Sailed—
Nederwaard, Port Phillip ; Isabella Harriet, Calcutta ;
Kerelaw, Buenos Ayres ; Arnoldmer Cathama ; Rio
Janeiro, Spirit, ditto 2 • Matilda, Barbadoes ; Governor,
St. Thomas ; Baltimore ; Pelican State, Philadel-
phia ; J. A. Westerveldt, New York ; Middleton, St.
John's, N.B. Off port—Prince Shanghae, Ferozepore ;
Singapore ; Golden Age St. John, N. 8.; Universe, Cor-
nelia, Conqueror, Maria Dorothea, Neptune, John Pelle.
DARTMOUTH.—Wind, S.W. Arrived—Sylph, St. John,
Newfoundland.
BRISTOL.—Wind, W. Arrived—Jane Black, Africa.
WATERFORD, Jr,n. 31.—Wind, S.W. to N.N.W.
Sailed—Peru, Demerara.
QUEENSTOWN, Tan N.W. Aazivecl—Spray,
Pernambuco.
HARTLEPOOL.—Sailed—Tapio Ceylon.
SELBY, Jan. 31. Wind, S.S.°W., light. Sailed—Sur-
pass, Algoa Bay ; Express, Cape of Good Hope.
SHIELDS.—Wind, S.W. Sailed—Douglas, New York.

STRANGE DEATH.—Two young men of the °
N:11 agu
of
Brandes, in France, lately perished in a very sing lar
manner. They went out to shoot wild ducks, and in
order to arrive at the marshy ground which the birds
frequented, they determined to proceed down the canal
in a boat, and then crossing over to the other side to
walk the rest of the way. The waters being unusually
high in consequence of the rains, the young men found
that they could scarcely pass under the arch in their
boat. They thought, it is supposed, that by lying down
in the boat they could pass. It so happened that the
water was higher than they thought, and was rising
every moment, so that when the boat had got under the
arch, it stuck fast, thus enclosing the young men com-
pletely without their having any means of extricating
themselves. They were found two days after dead in
the boat and clasped in each other's arms.
STATUE OF THE QUEEN AT GLASGoIV.—The equestrian
statue of the Queen, to be erected in Glasgow, is ap-
proaching completion, and the west end of St. Vincent's-
place has been selected as its site.

LITERATURE.

Bleak House. No. XII. By Charles Dickens.

Esther Summerson has it all to herself this
month in the, for once, uninterrupted continuation
of her autobiography. Hers arq the three chapters
constituting the present instalment. In the thirty-
sixth we are at " Chesney Wold ;" in the thirty-
seventh we hear there of Rick's entanglement in
• the terrible case of " Jarndyce and Jarndyce ;" in
the thirty- eighth, having returned once more to
Bleak House, we accompany Esther on a trip to
London, when she calls upon Caddy Turveydrop,
and where we witness " a struggle" between the
self-love and politeness of Mr. William Guppy, 'of
Penton-place, Pentonville. It is all out about
Lady Dedlock being the mother of Esther
S ummerson. They have a sudden interview
in the wood close by Chesney Wold, when the
pride of the fine lady melts away altogether in the
warmth of maternal tenderness. The passion of the
mother's mingled: joy and grief—joy at discovering
her child, grief at the blot upon her own reputa-
tion—has in it something very beautiful. Esther
and Lady Dedlock part, however, pledged to
mutual secresy, and with the understanding that
they are never again to hold communication with
each other. Stubbs, the pony, is a delicious fel-
low—quite a blood relation of our old friend Whis-
ker. We have in this number an exquisite little
sketch by Phiz, of the Ghost's Walk at Chesney.
Wold a wild spot no less exquisitely de-
scribed by Boz—with the " old stone lions and
grotesque monsters bristling outside dens of shadow
and snarling at the evening gloom, over their
escutcheons." Esther appears to be dreadfully-dis-
figured, as we surmised. The small-pox seems to
have made her ugly, in fact, if we may judge by
the sudden revulsion caused in the feelings of Mr.
Guppy, when her veil is. raised. Nevertheless,
upon the other persons in the story, the change
appears to have but little effect, as is seen by the
recognition of her by Rick, and Ada, and Caddy,
and Prince, and even Mr. Skimpole. By the way
Mr. Skimpole comes out' again delightfully in this
number for February. " The dear old infant" talks,
for example, beamingly of what Mr. Micawber
calls his pecuniary difficulties. He says he is "con-
stantly being bailed out, like a boat ; or paid off,
like a ship." " Somebody always does it for me,"
he observes; "I can't do it, you know, for I never
have, any money. But Somebody does it. I get
out by Somebody's means. lam not like the star-
ling. I get out. If you were to ask me who
Somebody is, I couldn't tell you. Let us drink to
Somebody. God bless him!" Again—allu.ding to this
nameless philanthropist—he says that in one instance
of embarrassment, " Somebody was so good as to
step in and pay the nsoney—something. and four-
pence ; I forget the pounds and shillings, but I
know it ended with fourpence, because it struck
me at the time as being so odd that I should owe
anybody fourpence." Harold Skimpole, in short,
appears to be altogether incorrigible. What with
him as a companion, and with Mr. Vholes as a
legal adviser, Rick seems to be in a tolerably fair
way of going, as Mr. Mantalini has it to the
(demnition bow-wows) in his dance after good fortune
in the case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce. We have
some comical scenes at the dancing academy in
Newman-street, where we witness the doings of
the little sprites of apprentices. At Pentonville,
again, we make the acquaintance of a very queer
old body, in the person of the mother' of Mr.
Guppy—a person whose -incessant smile, combined
with a large cap, a red nese, and an unsteady eye,
gave her quite a waggish appearance. When Esther,
accompanied by Caddy, knocks at the door, the good
lady is " visibly in danger of cracking herself like a
nut in the front parlour door by peeping out before
she was asked for." When seated at last in a cor- •
ner during the interview, she presents a rather ex-
traordinary aspect to her visitors, " holding her
pocket handkerchief to her chest, like a fomentation,
with both hands." Mr. Guppy, by-the-bye, appears
at last by no way to advantage—rather mean,in-
deed, than otherwise—and selfish and vulgar—a
disgrace to the office clerks of Conversation Kenge,
and to the parlour-lodgers of Pentonville. The
plot still continues in seemingly inextricable con-
fusion—a confusion ono might fancy it almost de-
fying unravelment.

Forest and Fireside Ifonrs. Poems. By Westby
Gibson. Aylott and Company.

Really, a little volume so gracefully and some-
times so exquisitely written as this book of the
" Forest and Fireside," ought to command success,
particularly under the shelter of such magnificent
patronage. Among the subscribers we have names
" enough and to spare" of our popular celebrities.
Besides the Prince Consort, and Dukes, and Earls,
and Viscounts, and Barons, and Baronets, we have
all kinds of notabilities in literature. Among no-
velists IVQ have shrewd Douglas Jerrold, and ironi-
cal W. M. Thackeray, wierd Harrison Ainsworth,
and glorious Charles Dickens. Among poets we
have the true-hearted Mackay, and the venerable
Rogers, and the thoughtful Tupper, and Landor,
and Procter, and a crowd of other favourites. And
the book is not by any means unworthy of so very
splendid an encouragement. It is unpretending,
but at the same time really beautiful in its charac-
ter. Altogether it contains no more than seven-
teen effusions, but those seventeen effusions are
stored with truth and loveliness. What is more,
the work is accurate in its title. It evinces on the

part of the writer, Westby Gibson, a homage for the
hearth and for nature. The subjects selected by
him for poetic celebration sufficiently indicate the
fact that his sympathies for the most part are either
rural or domestic. Take some of the names by way
of illustration. Now the verses are upon " May,
and now upon " Helen," the " Fall of the Leaf,"
the " Harvest Gleaning," the " Early Violet."
Simple themes all of them, but themes treated with
a charming elegance, and evincing in their treat-
ment warmth and scope of imagination. Some of
the word-painting is good---some of it even deli-
cious. In a piece called " The Woodlands," we
penetrate the thickets, and peep into all sorts of
dainty little nooks and corners of the umbrage.

Here the wild honeysuckles climb, and fold
The gnarled boughs with spires and leafy knots ;
And clustered blossoms, rich with tuddy gold,
Veiling the light from green sequestered spots."

Occasionally the phrases are inapt ; as when the
writer says that " the golden-armoured bees"—
" With sounding trumpets, march from hidden hives "
which they don't ! These, however, are the
exceptions—for generally the expressions used are
the very ones most appropriate. Here is a dainty
mention of " Summer Twilight," in a piece so
entitled :

" The sweet mid-time, when Earth's glad heart is trem-
bling,
Stirred by the warm bright rains and brooding heat,
And through the rich May-grass' in childlike wonder,
Steals happy June, with light bewildered feet."
There aro not wanting passages in which the
author, -without being guilty of plagiarism, betrays
his knowledge of similar descriptions already perned
by others. In the same poem about the " Summer
Twilight," for example, there are instances of this
—as vague as, we doubt not, they were inadver-
tent. That stanza—

" How sweet to feel, in this inscrutable darkness
Of shadow upon shadow lying deep
The ceaseless fragrance (nature's purest incense)
:both, all night long, its way to heaven keep."
A thought almost identical in its naturo and ex-
pression with that exquisite one in the Ode by Keats
to the Nightingale :

" I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But in the embalmed darkness guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows," &c.
Again there is that other stanza—
" Slowly the sun descends—in gold and purple
Royally clothed, like nature's King and Priest—
His glowing arms outstretched in benediction
On all the nations of the darkening East."
Reminding us of that noble couplet "by Sir Bulwer
Lytton, occurring in his " New Timon "
" Behold the Sun! how stately in the East,
Bright from God's presence comes the glorious Priest."
As a piling- up of sweet names on the Sabbath,
meaning, of course, the Sunday, we cannot refrain
from transcribing the following sonnet :

" SABBATH-DAYS.

" These Sabbath-days are shining clues to Heaven !
The overflow of Mercy ! wide-thrown doors
Into Joy's house ! sweet wayside shelters given
When round our path forlorn Life's tempest roars !
Smiles of Eternity ! flowers in Time's dust !
Armour-of-proof beneath our pilgrim's-guise !
Luxuriant banquets after six days' crust !
Foretastes of Heaven ! true dreams of Paradise !
Fair garden walks—which, leaving for a time,
Breaths of sweet air about us lingering play—
Whence we may bear, as from the Eden-clime
Poor Adam might have yearned, some balmy flower
away."

As a kind of companion picture, or rather as a
graceful contrast to the foregoing, we are tempted
to introduce in this place another " Sonnet," al-
though written by another hand—a sonnet not by
Westby Gibson, but by J. J. Briggs—a sonnet not-
upon the Sabbath, but upon—

" MIDNIGHT.
" Silence hath set her finger with deep touch
Upon Creation's lip. Like a young bride, the moon
Lift's up Night's curtains, and, with countenance mild,
Smiles on the beauteous Earth—her sleeping child.
For joy the wild flowers weep—soft incense, such
As.steals from herbs, in pleasant fields in June,
Freights the Night air. Each light tree waving deep
Is edged with silver—flocks lie motionless :
How sweet are hours spent in such scenes as this

When Peace looks down from Heaven in plaintive
mood,
And Earth, in deep tranquillity of bliss,
Becomes a suitor to fair Solitude.
What noble actions spring to flowery prime—
Spring--from the seeds Thought sows'in such a time I"
Returning to the author of the little volume before
us, we augur well for his future success by so very
happy and propitious a commencement.

A Tour of Inquiry through France and Italy;
Illustrating their Present Social, Political, and
Religious Condition. By Edmund Spencer,
author of " Travels in European Turkey," arc.
2 vols. Hurst and Blackett (Successors to Col-
burn).
This author is well known to the reading world
for his excellent descriptions of foreign life and
distant lands. In the present instance, it is not
his purpose to recount, for a thousandth time, the
glories of nature, or the grandeurs of art, which
Italy so lavishly displays, to charm the fancy and
delight the mind. The Eternal City of the Seven
Hills suggested other ideas to him, and he endea-
vours to represent the actual state and condition
of those who are now its denizens. He declares,
at the commencement of the work, that his "aim is
to enlist the sympathies of the generous sons of free
England in favour of a country once the cradle of
the arts, the home of science, literature, and learn-
ing, which has so long been overrun by foreign
armies, and torn by domestic dissensions. Truly
the picture is a most melancholy one, and none can
withhold their regret at the thought that this land
was once the foremost amid the empires and king-
doms of civilisation—that this people, so degraded,
oppressed, and deceived,
are the countrymen of
the Cinsars, the descendants of the " Romans
who shook the world." In the pages of this
work we are informed of the gradual decline and
fall of the old spirit of freedom and glory. The
opinion expressed seems a just and true one, that
the Italians are endowed with the utmost develop-
ment of the human mind, although the transcen-
dent gift has been abused, perverted, and partially
obscured of late years by every species of tyranny,
injustice, and fanaticism. Another argument
brought forward with much warmth and energy
is this, that the spirit of the people is not so
crushed and broken as it is asserted by some ; in
short, that the " fire of old Rome " is not extinct.
During the late revolution, the inhabitants of one
city maintained a desperate resistance against the
French, and at last the fight was only suspended
by the exhaustion of both sides, the engagement
having lasted the whole day. It is certainly de-
sirable for some one to have faith and hope for
Italy and the Italians, although he be of a different
race, creed, and country ; and it would be indeed
a blessed thing if the visions here shown of national
regeneration could be realised. It will be seen
from this work how the Inquisition was the ruin
of the country—that awful institution whose es-
tablishment has been the forerunner of death and
disgrace to every land where it has found an en-
trance, and to every people who have owned its
sway. It seems that a prophetic spirit warned the
victims, for their resistance was unequalled in
spirit and strength, but to no purpose. "In vain,
it is said, the Lombards in the north of Italy, so
nearly allied to the Anglo-Saxon in race and love
of freedom ; in vain the Neapolitans in the south
rose up acrain_and again ; in vain the republics of
Genoa and° Venice defied its terrors ; in vain the
citizens of Rome threw open the dungeons of the
Inquisition, and reduced the building to ashes."
After the failure of those energetic attempts, ruin
and devastation reigned paramount ; from thence
may be dated the fall of the Queen of the Nations.
It is added--" While the streets of Rome were
smoking with the burning pyres of the most illus-
trious sons of Italy, despair prevailed, the brilliant
Italian mind set in darkness, and the noblest
children of ruined Italy fled to the land of the
stranger, carrying with them their genius, their
industry, and their arts."
In the following passages it will be seen how the
system of tyranny worked against all improvement,
and laid waste all efforts of genius to improve and
adorn the land. The author eloquently remarks,
that those men who upheld their country's cause
and vindicated their birthright of free inquiry, " if
they have perished at the stake, or in the torture
chambers of the Inquisition, have hallowed the
classic soil of Italy, and left names immortalised in
the page of history."
"There are certain races among mankind who ap-
pear to be endowed with that degree of intellectual
superiority necessary for self-government, and we may
reckon the Italians among the number, a highly prac-
tical people who have already shown they could enjoy
and appreciate freedom. Again, how many illustrious
men has not this country produced? In political science,
we have Machiavelli, and the more recent Boccacio. We
might multiply instances to prove that Italy before she
fell under the demoralising sway of Spanish princes, and
the leaden rule of the House of Hapsburg, led the way
in all that was great and noble in the arts and sciences ;
and if her highly-gifted sons have not continued in the
van of European civilisation, it is solely to be ascribed
to the political and religious disabilities under which
they have laboured. Must we not therefore believe they
would have fallen into barbarism did they not possess in
a high degree the immortal development of mind—a-
development which neither the tyranny of foreign des-
pots, nor the insurmountable obstacles thrown in the
way of national education, has been able to crush."
"After the Pontiffs had listened to the counsels of
intolerant Spain, `lt was then that the Jesuists, that
priestly militia of the Church of Rome, first invaded the
colleges, the schools, the pulpit, and the confessional. It
was then that this ill-starred nation, hitherto the most
enterprising and industrious in Europe, sank into
slavery. It was then that the bold conception, the
manly diction, the finished execution began to decline in
Italy.

"-There were schools and academies, poets and artists,
as numerous as ever ; there was the same melodious
language, the same vivid imagery, the same luxurious
colouring • but the impulse of oh il and religious free-
dom which had previously given life to men's minds
and their productions was wanting ; and the intolerant
rule of this new horde of foreign invaders, the Spanish
Jesuits, was sapping and undermining all that remained
of that inventive, active, life-enterprise, and industry
for which their fathers were so justly famed.
" It. was not only in archittlure that the gigantic mind
of old Italy revealed itself ; sculpture and painting were
cultivated in their highest forms, while her universities
were the most celebrated in the world in the various
sciences of which they were the founders. In anatomy
there is scarcely a part of the human body that is not
connected with the name of some illustrious Italian.
Fabricius, Malpighi, Aselli, Morgaqui. The erudite
observations of Cisalpinus, and the gigantic labours of
Ald.vorandi on the organisation of plants, heralded the
investigations of the illustrious Swede, when, aided by
those great Italian navigators Columbus and Vasco di
Gama, the botanic gardens of all the Italian universities
bloomed with a thousand beautiful exotics until then
unknown to Europe. Cassini drew the first
meridian, Toricelli invented the barometer, Castelli
explained the theory of running water, Galvani
and Volta discovered the phenomena of galvanism and
its effects, Paetaglia, of nrescia, niay be termed the re-
storer of mathematics, and Galileo stands at the head of
another constellation of illustrious Italians, who were,
alas I for the last time, to shed over their country the
light of genius. Facts, undeniable facts, were now being
elicited which the authority of a superstitious Church
sought in vain to contradict. Who has not read of the
persecution of Galileo by the Pontiffs of Rome ?—the
untimely
ownsheof the Inquisition, and
was arrested at Padua,
burned at Rome, of the illustrious physician, Sevei,
theof Bruno,duge
who was thrown into the flames at Modena, of Barozzi,
the mathematician, who expired by torture, of the mild
consigned
and humane Jelesio, the bold friar Campanello, of Ad-
riani, Vacchi, Vardi,
and a host of other men,
eminent in the arts and sciences, who perished, either at
home or abroad, by the poinards of the Inquisition ?
Truly, it would be difficult to point out in any other
age, or in any other country, such a galaxy of immortal
names—men who united to the loftiest genius the cou-
rage of heroes, and the devotedness of martyrs."

THE MAGAZINES.
The New Monthly.—Another instalment of the
new story by Harrison Ainsworth, about " The
Flitch of Bacon, or the Custom of Dunmow ~
in-
troduces the reader to one or two amusing—
incidents,
and makes him acquainted with two or three new
characters. Doctor Plot, the mysterious personage
who, towards the close of the last number, became
rather suddenly the occupant of the haunted 'room
at the inn kept by Jonas Nettlebed, figures this
month in the narrative rather conspicuously. The
account of his visit to the Old Priory Church at
gee. For
Dunmow will be read with interest, but with yet
wehgereamteardientienrteest,the
doubt n
not, will an incursion
Gamekeeper's
Cotta there we become literally more "at hom" with
pretty Rose Woodbine. Chapter the Second of
Part the Second, in fact, gives us a peep at her in
the midst of her domestic retirement. Rose, by
the way, sings a song which we must decidedly
characterise as the feature of the present instal-
ment. It is so charming in itself, and is sung too
in tones of such delicious sweetness that it is
honoured by Dr. Plot with an encore. We must,
eaxnadetltyheapmporree.
Tale of English
Home." The commencement of the ballad runs as
therefore,readily,
seeing repeat
that it htehree
verses ourselves,a,iT3
followspriate :the theme this

tc What seek ye here, my children dear?
Why kneel ye down so lowly
Upon the stones, beneath the porch
Of this our Convent holy ?"
The Prior thus the pair bespoke
In faltering speech, and slowly.

Their modest garb would seem proclaim
The pair of low degree.
But though in cloth of frieze arrayed,
A stately youth was he ;
While she, who knelt down by his side,
Was beautiful to see.

" A twelvemonth and a day have fled
Since first we were united ;
And from that hour," the young man said,
"No change our hopes liras blighted.
Fond faith with fonder faith we've paid,
And love with love requited."

"True to each other have we been ;
No dearer object seeing,
Than each has in the other found ;
In everything agreeing.
And every look, and word, and deed
That breed dissension fleeing."

"All this we swear, and take in proof
Our Lady of Dunmow !
For She, who sits with saints above
Well knows that it is so.
Attest our vow, thou reverend man,
And bless us, e'er we go !"

The Prior old stretch'd forth his hands :
"Heaven prosper ye !" quoth he ;
" O'er such as ye, right gladly we
Say ' Bercedicite I "
On this, the kneeling pair uprose—
Uprose full joyfully.

Having proceeded so far merrily enough in the
ballad, the author contrives most adroitly, in the
subsequent portions of it, to give a clue to the
origin of the queer old custom about the Flitch ;
and he does this, it will be admitted, in a manner
at once quaint and graceful.. The ditty is thus
brought to a conclusion by Rose Woodbine

Just then, pass'd by the Convent cook--
And moved the young man's glee ;
For on his back a mighty Flitch
Of Bacon brown bore he.
So heavy was the load, I wis
It scarce mote carried be.

"Take ye that Flitch," the Prior cried,
"Take it, fond pair, and go ;
Fidelity, like yours, deserves
The boon I now bestow.
Go feast your friends, and think upon
The Convent of Dunmow."

"Good Prior," then the youth replied,
"Thy gift to us is dear,
Not for its worth, but that it shows
Thou deem'st our love sincere.
And in return broad lands I give—
Broad lands thy Convent near ;
Which shall to thee and thine produce
A Thousand Marks a Year !

"But this Condition I annex,
Or else the Grant's forsaken ;
That whensoe'er a Pair shall come,
And take the Oath we've taken ;
They shall from thee and thine receive
A goodly Flitch of Bacon.

"And thus from out a simple chance
A usage good shall grow ;
And our example of true love
Be held up evermo
While all who win the prize shall bless
The Custom of Dunmow."

!' Who art thou, son ?" the Prior cried,
His tones with wonder falter—
" Thou should'st not jest with reverend men
Nor with their feelings palter."
"I jest not, Prior, for know in me
Sir Reginald Fitzwalter.

"I now throw off my humble garb,
As I what I am, corifest :
The wealthiest I of wealthy men,
Since with this treasure blest."
Atd as he spoke, Fitzwalter clasp'd
His lady to his breast.