The Sun.
London, England, 1853-11-03 00:00:00

WEDNESDAY EVENING CONCERTS.

The second of these popular concerts, last night, was
quite as well attended as the first, and equally as good.
The programme was a mixed one, the first part being
chiefly devoted to music of a high class, the second to
lighter matters. The first consisted almost entirely of
Mendelssohn's unrivalled music in " Midsummer Night's
Dream," which, under the skilful direction of Mr. Bene-
dict, was executed with much precision and brilliancy.
The vocal solos were entrusted to Miss Birch and Miss
Poole, of whose merits it is unnecessary to speak. Miss
Fanny Ternan, daughter of the well-known actress,
sang with great success Dr. Arne's beautiful melody of
" Where the Bee Sucks.'' This was her debat at Exeter
Hall, where she will, no doubt, be an acquisition,
having a light and very agreeable soprano voice,
which appeared to have been well cultivated.
In the second part of the concert, "My pretty Jane,"
by Mr. Augustus Braham, was followed by Guglielmi's
" Gratias agimus tibi," by Miss Birch. Festa's quaint
madrigal, " Down in a flowery vale ;" a pianoforte
performance by Mdlle Coulon ; songs by Miss Isaacs,
Miss Poole, and Miss Dolby ; an Italian scena.
by Mdlle. Norie ; and other miscellanea succeeded.
The last-named young lady, Madamoiselle Norie,
made_ her debut at the previous concert, on which
occasion she obtained a most favourable reception. She
has a mezzo soprano voice of great beauty and sweetness,
and it was heard last night to very much advantage.
She promises to occupy a very prominent position in
her profession. At the third concert Mademoiselle
Clauss is announced to play Beethoven's " symphony "
in C minor.

DREADFUL FIREWORK EXPLOSION AT

CIiATILdAf.

Yesterday afternoon a terrible explosion took place at
the workshops of Mr. Henniker, a gun-maker, residing
at Hammond-place, Chatham. Mr. Henniker and his
three sons had been engaged for some time past in pre-
paring a large quantity of fireworks for the approaching
sth of November, and yesterday they were busy exe-
cuting a large order for squibs. At the time of the
explosion there were at work in the factory Mrs. Hen-
niker, aged 50, and her three sons, aged respectively
20, 14, and 10 years ; Mr. Henniker only a short
interval previously having left the premises. Mrs.
Henniker was in the act of leaving the workshop, having
in her apron a large quantity of squibs, when, from some
unexplained cause, the whole of them became ignited,
the roof and one side of the workshop were blown away
and every article of furniture in that portion of the
premises was demolished, The three youths were nearly
covered with the falling materials. The eldest son, who
saw the ignition take place had the presence of
mind to snatch up a case containing about 251bs
weight of gunpowder, which he hurled over an ad-
joining wall, and thus in all probability a large sacra-
fice of life and property was prevented.

As soon as the flames were sufficiently extinguished
to allow persons to enter the ruins, Mr. Henniker was
found fearfully burnt and scorched, and apparently
dying. The son, aged 14, was also greatly injured
by the explosion and much burnt. Mrs. Henniker was
immediately removed to the Chest Arms tavern, and Mr.
Fayle, of the firm of Bell and Fayle, was promptly in
attendance ; but when this report left, small hopes were
entertained of her recovery. The second son also lies in
a precarious state. The two other sons though much
injured and burnt about the head and body, are pro-
gressing favourably.

MEMORIAL TO BELLOT.

( From Punch.
One noble heart the more bath ocean stilled,
A heart that throbbed with brave humanity
And generous fortitude, which nothing chilled
But the grim water of the frozen sea :
Down to the deep, in doing well, went he.
No son of England—yet shall that be said,

Such kindred with the hero as we claim?
For we all mourn a brother in the dead,
Although from France he drew his birth and name,
Honour to France, increased by Bellot's fame.
Shall that fame have no other monument

Than pile of toppling ice-crags for a tomb,
A frostwork chantry, where, through cleft and rent,
The north wind sings his dirge, and sunless gloom
The Northern Lights are cressets to illume.
He died for England—so did one who might
Like him have perished, yet not so have died ;
And when his spirit wakened into light,
Nelson, perhaps, was first that welcome cried,
Remembering what like fate his youth defied.
But had the floe engulphed that fearless boy
Chasing the sea•bear on its faithless track;
Our more than Hector—for he saved our Troy—
It then had been our heavy doom to lack :
And valour, unrenowned, had gone to wrack.
Not so with him in glorious fight who fell,
For fellow-man, with elemental foes.
They for their native land who die, die well ;
But better yet, more notably than those,
Died he who sank amid the Arctic snows.

His country was his kind— in noblest strife,
Whose victors only suffer—did he fall ;
Thus did-this gallant tar lay down his life :
Rest his brave soul with such good sailors all,
Beneath the flag of their High Admiral !