The Sun.
London, England, 1836-12-01 00:00:00

was impossible for Miff fd ap julticg between the parties ;
hence the Court must be adjourned,
Mr. Tuomns, a Counsel in the cause, said. b-F4 PC-
feiol Oit!Tes,ses up from Southampton, and it would bc d
treat 3.,..1,t`ati01d flYtt4.o.; He trusted his Lordship would
,
delegate some person (Airy„ soenost,
'.k'ive JUDGE, to oblige the parties,. would try to get a
ordef for the Secondary to try it.
It was sttggestcd th:lt the writ of trial mast be altered
before that could be done,
Mr: said that alteration could not be effected
without A Akvtlges' order.
Mr. Tnom,to ow there would be no difficulty if both
parties consented.
The tcorned judge (AItABIN) mil here obliged to re-
tire, owing to eKlino%tion.—Nothing was definitively agreed
upon; and the Court adlourna

CENTIiAL CRIMINAL COURT.
(TillS' DAY.)

OLD COURT.
.Mr. Sergeant ARABIN.)
Stretficid was indicted for having stolen on the
3tli of November a pair of drawers, the property of Samuel
Jeggins.
The prisoner, who is a lrt ailor, stated that he had arrived
in London after a long voyage on the day of the occurrence,
that he was intoxicated at the time, and consequently in-
capatilt tif distinguishing right from wrong.
He was found Guilty, and being recommended to mercy,
the Court said means would be taken to have him sent back
to his ship without delay.
(Before Mr. JUStieC VAUGHAN and Mr. Baron PARKE.)
William Death was indicted for a burglary in the dwell-
ing-house of Elizabeth Lydia M'Auliffe, and stealing there-
from three silver spoons, a pair of sugar tongs, three cruets
•
and stand, and other articles, her property.
It appeared from the testimony of two policemen, that
on the morning of Sunday, the 13th of November, at about
half-past three o'clock,, the prisoner was found standing
against the wall of the house, No. 2, Swan-passage, Shore-
ditch, and being desired to move on, was observed to have
in his possession the articles stated in the indictment to have
been stolen. Upon examining the premises of the prose-
cutrix, who resides in New Gloucester-street, St. Dennis,
Shoreditch, the shutters appeared to have been wrenched
open. The property was identified.
Mr. DOANE addressed the Jury on behalf of the pri-
soner, and called witnesses who spoke to his previous good
character.—He was found Guilty.
John Allen, a young lad, aged 11 years, was indicted for
having, on the night of the 10th of November, stolen
from the dwelling-house of John Parkhouse, five pounds
in silver and one pound in copper coin ; and for having
burglariously broken out from the said premises.
It appeared in evidence that on the night of the 10th of
Nov., the prisoner was observed in the neighbourhood of Mr.
Parkhousc's shop, in Great Windmill-street, Westminster ;
that at an early hour next morning an alarm was given by
a policeman, in consequence of which the prosecutor exa-
mined his house, and found one of the doors open, the till
broken, and five pounds in silver, and twenty shillings in
copper, stolen therefrom. Suspicion fell upon the prisoner,
who, about two years since, was in the employment of Mr.
Parkhouse, and he was induced to confess the crime, being
urged thereto by his father. Before the Magistrate ho
made a similar declaration, but no witness being in at-
tendance to prove that the usual caution had been given,
Mr. Baron Parke directed the Jury to acquit the prisoner.
James Riele.y was indicted for stealing a bill and money,
amounting to nine pounds, the property of Thomas Stevens,
in his dwelling-house, at Rosemary-lane, Whitechapel, and
for burglariously breaking out of the on the same night
of the 17th of November.—He was found Guilty.

THE MAGAZINES.

BLACKWOOD.

A more delightful Number than the one before us,
we have not read this many a day. The " fine Roman
hand" is again visible in its pages, to be detected in the
very first sentence of the masterly criticism on the
" Mountain Decameron"—a work which The Sun was
the first to speak of in the terms it deserved, as pos-
sessing uncommon powers of feeling and imagination.
In this criticism Christopher North formally proclaims
his intention of letting fly at the puffing system. His
crutch lies ready beside him ; he is in capital condition
—having just recovered from his last attack of gout—
and vows that he will give no quarter to the nuisance.
We extract a passage from this eloquent notice, which
is penned in a light, graceful, versatile manner, where
pathos blended with humour, mid fancy. with shrewd
critical perspicacity, forms the most relishing compound
possible :
" We have done our best to keep alive in the breasts of
the noble Nonage' of our Isle the feeling of this elevating
truth. In Literature—in Poetry—we have striven to il-
lustrate the profound meaning of Wordsworth, when he
speaks like a seer, of the mighty movements of the soul of
the world sailing on the wings of time diversely outspread,
yet all harmoniously combined in the mystery of one per-
vading and prevailing spirit. Our theme has been Homer
—and Shakspeare—and Burns—and our own Minstrel—
and the Bard' himself—and other chiefs of the chosen
sons of song from Orpheus to Coleridge, who have sof-
tened what is harder far than rocks and stones, the obdu-
rate hearts of men, and kindled them into offerings fit to be
laid on holiest altars. The Nonage' have not turned
away in their prime, from their old instructor ; they have not
forgot his lessons, for they were draw from texts not less
than inspired ; and the pupils who have come to see farther
than their master, and they arc in thousands, have not
been slow to tell him that they see still by the light he ga-
thered on their path—while he has rejoiced to know that
they have been guided by it into regions by him unvisited,
from which, may they bring back peace in their hearts,
and glory round their heads, calmly to breathe and brightly
to burn, for many high and happy years, after he has be-
come extinct on earth, and left but the uncertain shadow of
a name—

PROMETHEUS.
" Truly bursts the doom on me !
Earth is heaving like the sea,
A nd the thunder billows by ;
And the lightning's fiery curls •
Stream in dusters from the sky,
And the whirlwind in its whirls
Sweeps the dust up; and the blast
Of every wind is hurrying fast,
With the rush of wild commotion,
Leaping each against his brother,
Mad to trample one another ;
And the sky is mixed with ocean
In confusion reconciled—
Such a blast with terror piled
'Gainst me wings its rapid path,
Sent from Zeus to do his wrath."
The Measure meted out to others, measured to u;

Parvi stat nomiais umbra.'
" Poo! We hope to live a few years yet—and though
the shadow of our name will be small enough, too small
to yield a child shelter from the sun, the shadow of our
body is far from being small, and towards evening, when
other shadows are descending longer from the mountains,
has a most imposing circumference, sufficiently extensive to
enclose a flock of sheep.
.‘ We are, the truth must be spoken, gettina, if any-
thing, rather too corpulent—what the world :ills stout.
So, at least, every human being says who meets us in town
or country ; and for what every human being says, there
must be sonic foundation in fact. There seems to be no
other means of getting rid of our superfluous fat, than
eating less and writing more ; so we announce, with con-
siderable confidence, among many other unannounced lucu-
brations, A Series of Articles on our Modern Prose Fic-
tions.' We promise to be regular in the extreme ; one
such article every month, as sure as Maga or the Sun rises,
and so long as to be thought short by all good judges of
place and time."
Why does Kit North here talk of the " shadow of
his name" being " small enough," and misquote Vir-
gil in order to give effect to his observation ? Why
apply the word " parvi" to his " shadow," when the
original epithet " magni " is a thousand times more'
appropriate ? Who, among the moderns, shall go
down to posterity, if not the presiding spirit of the
" Noctes"—the sagacious critic—the dramatist—the
essayist—the poet—whose lines on the red deer—
. " Magnificent creature so stately and bright,
In the pride of thy spirit pursuing thy thee—
are equal to the very best that these our later times
have seen ? No, no, honest Kit North—as was well
observed in Fraser's Magazine last month—is the
foremost man of his time," and will be recognised as
such long after his eloquent silver hairs—to quote a
lovely Irish metaphor—are in the grave. " Prome-
theus Bound" is a noble translation from Xschylus,
by Mr. Chapman. There are one or two tough cho-
ruses in this play, of which we entertain a very awful
school-boy recollection, but the translator has grappled
with them manfully. The closing passage is admir-
ably rendered. The rush of the verse, divested of all
cumbrous epithets, like soldiers hurrying to battle with
their baggage, that might impede their progress, thrown
away, is characteristic in a high degree of the senti-
ments it conveys.