The Sun.
London, England, 1840-09-01 00:00:00

i
~~ _

it across your back—circumstances that conjured
all the loose cash out of your breeches-pockets. I
d d all I could to prevent the catastrophe ; but
there was no help for it ; I was the creature of a
power over which I had no control !" Now, would
our Social philosopher, think you, smarting under
a sense of his wrongs, acknowledge this as
sound doctrine—accept it as a valid justifi-
cation of the rogue's conduct ? We doubt
it much ; yet if he desire to maintain his
consistency, he has no other alternative. But it is
idle to enlarge on this theme ; for the Owenites are
daily decreasing, both in numbers and influence ;
and in a short time will be as completely forgotten
as that crack-brained German, Anacharsis Clootz,
who fifty years ago preached pretty nearly the same
doctrine to the bewildered sans culottes of Paris.
" Violet Hamilton " is a story that reads off lightly
and trippingly. A willing spirit has been at work
on it, and this imparts to it a freshness and vivacity
not often met with in Magazine tales. " Memoirs
of Jeremy Bentham" are as dry as a ship-biscuit.
"'Travels in the East" is an entertaining review of a
book lately published, and contains several piquant
tit-bits, in the way of extract. In the " Feast of the
Poets" we find a few dainty scraps of verse, and
many that are quite stale and tasteless. We quote
one of the best, entitled " Night :"
Holy Night! in silence
From thy starry throne
Swaying, thee I worship,
Silent and alone.
Holy Night ! how calmly
Sails the mellow moon
Through the deep blue welkin,
Fairer than the noon.
Mellow moon ! how gently
Through the voiceless night,
O'er the sleeping waters,
Trips thy silver light.
Holy Night ! bow lovely
Shoot, with sudden birth,
Hosts of shimmering arrows
From the lambent North.
Holy Night ! thou reignest
Solemn, still, serene ;
Hushed, the tribes of mortals
Bow before their queen.
Now the battling voices
Of the babbling throng
Cease ; and thou m:ly'st listen,
As it treads along,
To the steps of Godhead
Beating march of Time ;
Slowly, surely, wisely,
Beautiful, sublime ;
Beating thought and feeling,
Beating vital power
In renewed creation's
Pulse, from hour to hour.
Holy Night ! devoutly
While I worship thee,
Babbling Folly's echo
Dies away from me.

FRASER'S MAGAZINE,
We are not surprised at the increasing circulation
of this Magazine, for—setting its politics aside—it
always contains one or more articles of considerable
literary merit. The first, and we may add the best, in
the present Number, is devoted to the question of the
" Present State and Prospects of the Jews," and is
penned with uncommon spirit and eloquence. The
writer observes that " there can be little doubt that
a new era has arrived in the his tory of the Jews."
This hypothesis is a just one. The so-long persecuted,
scattered, and discouraged Israelites are at length
waking up from the torpor of ages ; they are rally-
int:,t' in all quarters ; zealous missionaries have of late
made their appearance among them ; and Jerusalem
is once again, what it was in the days when they
hung up their harps on the willows, the central
point to which all their hopes, thoughts, and resus-
citated sympathies are daily and hourly directed. It
affords matter for the most deep and solemn reflec-
tion to think that the day is not far distant, when
the Jews will be reinstated in that august city which
centuries since, all the armies of Christendom united
were unable to wrest from the Infidels. " Life on
the Leinster" is a lively sketch of an Irish law cir-
cuit. The " Condemned Cells" is the com-
mencement of a series of Papers which, judging
from the present specimen, bids fair to attract
public attention in no ordinary degree. We
like the healthy, unexaggerated spirit in which
the account of the " Ordinary" is written. " There
is yet wanting a picture," says the writer, " of
crime and its consequences, true to nature and to
conscience ; we therefore feel that this, and the i
papers which are to succeed it, will render service
to society. They are the productions of a pen that
describes facts as they were found. They present
pure pictures of guilt and its accompaniments.
They have no artificial colouring. Their whole
interest lies in their reality." Thus recommended,
we hazard little in asserting our belief that they
will he popalar. We shall watch their progress
with interest. The " Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes" is clever and scholar-like, but we must
enter our protest against the frequent sneers against
Gibbon, and _more particularly against the term
" over-rated," as applied to his immortal History.
Such a work cannot be over-rated, embodying, as
it does, the most profound and various learning,
set off with all the graces of a style that, despite
its occasional turgidness, it were to be wished were
more general among historians. Who works up
an episode like Gibbon, or introduces it with such
consummate skill? Whose frequent reflections on
passing events are so sagacious—whose characters
are so nicely discriminated—whose battle scenes
so full of tempered enthusiasm ? His account of
the last sack of Constantinople absolutely stirs the
heart like the sound of a trumpet. We have al-
ways considered Gibbon as the first of his class ;
and that class is of the highest in literature. The
review of the " Confessions of Harry Lorrequer-
is entertaining reading, but its praise borders on
the extravagant. The brief, passing allusion to
Hazlitt that he was "an old muddle-headed
proser," is anything but just. Perverse he fre-
quently was in his criticisms, shallow, dogmatic.
and often more taken up with himself than his sub-
ject ; but " proser" he certainly was not. You
might object to the egotistical and splenetic tone of
many of his essays, but you never fell asleep over
them. He was too earnest and energetic an author
ever to set you nodding. " North American
Boundary" is a sound, dispassionately reasoned
article, abounding in useful facts, and drawing in-
ferences from those facts which it is scarcely pos-
sible to overturn. We have read it with much
pleasure, not unmingled with instruction. The
writer must try his hand again at these subjects.
He has a ready pen and a shrewd understanding.
" Close of the Session" is a stupid Tory diatribe,
without one word of truth from beginning to end.
We select from a " Newspaper Editor's Remi-
niscences" a curious anecdote or two respecting
old Joe Munden :
Most persons have heard of the umbrella. Munden
had an old umbrella, which he bad probably purchased
second-hand, for a shilling, or, at the utmost, eighteen-
pence. Meeting a friend who was about to leave the
country, and for whom he professed an attachment, he
said he should like, before they parted for ever, to make
an exchange of presents, as a remembrance of their
friendship. His friend willingly adopted the idea, and
said he woul d call upon him. " There is no time like
the present, said Munden, who saw a new silk umbrella
in the gentleman's hand. " Suppose we exchange
umbrellas." The gentleman, who was either more gene-
rous or less observant than Munden, instantly acceded
to the proposition, and carried off the old cotton rain-
protector as the gilt of " Joe Munden ;" whilst the
with the new silk.
clever
Anotheractor
anecdotewalked
o f triumphantly
Munden's
foresight is less gene-
chris-
tened, o
rfoarllyl
hkenaorwdn,italftrhoomugthheeqlaudayllyi;erisfelnfowtho mowrea,satuhtehevnictitei:
wasm s e
td h pe a
wr yr
e of a hen the
Covent Gardenoniy
.
i
childofthis lady, w
performer, was
Munden was one of the godfathers. A large
W
party had assembled ; and as it was in the old-fashioned
times, when people were made to pay handsomely for
their dinners and soirees, by presents to the servants of
the houses at which they were invited, the nurse looked
Munden told the lady that he wished to give
forward to a rich harvest. Towards the close of the
to the nurse, but that he had left his purse
and asked the lady to lend him half-a-crown.
something
nseeheneoi;t:khgnbie::u;:it
immediately very
id My dear," says Munden, " this will not do at all ; it
looks nothing to put into the hands of the nurse. Give
it to me, if you can, in change." She took beck the
half-crown, and gave him two shillings and a sixpence.
This," said he, " will do very well." On the follow-
ing day, the lady asked the nurse how she had succeeded.
" \ray well indeed, ma'am," replied the nurse ; "I got
more than eleven pounds." " And to think of Mr.
Munden's giving ycu half-a-crown," said the lady ;
" really, wonders will never cease." " Lord, ma'am ! '
said the nurse, " Mr. Munden did not give uric half-a-
crown ; he only gave me a shilling, and that I did not
expect." Joe's diplomacy put eighteenpenee into his
peeket ; for it is needless to say, that he never thought
of repaying the sum which he had borrowed.

EVENING ED1T107,,..
MONTHLY CHRONICLE.
" Letters from the Continent," though dated
from Paris, a quarter in which one wculd imagine-
it impossible to gather anything like :.rovelty, will
amuse by the liveliness of their manner, and the sa-
gacity of the opinions they enforce. The writer
has not traversed the French capital with his eyes
shut or his ears closed, but has made gook.] use of
his senses, and exhibited just that sort o! busy,
restless inquisitiveness, without which a traveller is
no better than Sterne's Mundungus, who vent
from Dan to Beersheba, and found all barren.
Speaking of Louis Philippe, the writer tells us that
he is by no means popular among the middle
classes, as a strong impression is abroad among
them that he has not only played false to the men
who placed the crown on his head, but has also
broken a great many promises, if not expressed, yet
certainly implied. Nevertheless, we are assured,
these classes will rally to a man round his throne,
should he require their support, for " the republic
is at this moment their bug-bear, and there is no
sacrifice they are not prepared to make, no arbi-
trary measures on the part of Government they
are not prepared to support, rather than see
the republican party in possession of power." If
this be so, then the King of the Barricades is as
firmly seated a monarch as any in Europe ; indeed,
far more so than the Emperor Nicholas, who with
all his apparent power, is but a helpless instrument
in the hands of a reckless and bigotted aristocracy.
" Introduction to the study of the Old English
Dramatists" is not devoid of a certain cleverness,
but its tone is too arrogant, and there is a constant
attempt to exhibit acuteness and profundity of re-
mark. NVith a little less pedantry and super-
ciliousness of manner, it would have been a very
acceptable essay. " Lord Povverscourt on the
state of Ireland," is an article that should have
appeared early in the last Session. Just now, it
will find few readers. " Sketches of Spanish
Generals" gives a brief biographical sketch of
Maroto. "To the Queen" is a poem from the
pen of Leigh Hunt, who congratulates her
Majesty on her recent escape from assassination.
Here are the opening passages of the poem :
Recovering with one breath, one joy, one prayer,
From sudden horror, such as lifts :he hair,
Three kingdoms bless thee, lady, and thy lit: ;
Bless thee as queen ; bless thee as child and IFife ;
Bless thee as their ow❑ kin. Thy consort, too,
Him as thyself ; for both in one they view ;
Yet thee the most, as theirs. Fathers and mothers,
As daughter, bless thee ; as a sister, brothers ;
Bridegrooms as bride,—oh ! with what thoughts the
last !
With what embraces, tretrbiing for the past!
Shuddering to think bow madness might have torn
The dearest burden which on earth is borne.
Every least class, and every time of life,
Thrill'd for the gentle prince and the young wife,—
Themselves not childless now. The driest cheek
Of daily sorrow felt its eyes grow weak ;
The poor (Oh, Madam ! yO2/ can think of those)
For her forgot the scorners of their woes ;
And Madness self, with twice hewilder'd eye,
Star'd at the light fantastic prodigy,
That with no cheek made pale, nor spirit stung,
' Lay lurking to destroy two hearts as young.

Great God ! to picture what a pass was there!
How but that moment, to the gladsome air
Issuing for health and pleasure from her door,
Home at her back, and homage all before,
'Faking possession, with her happy eyes,
Of all the world with all its sympathies,—
The husband at her side,—he, too, a heart
Loving and just, that takes the poor man's part,
Full of all impulses of good and true,—
To picture them, I say, thus borne, those two,
The few months' wife, and mild and manly spouse,
Bending to those who bend; with pleasant brows,
Through avenues of hearts, and paths of green ;
And suddenly, when not a cloud was seen
In heaven above, or human face below, •
Thus to be dash'd at with a deadly blow !
To have harsh bullets horribly displace
Their summer air, and see a murderous floe,
And feel their gentle foreheads, in despite
Of their brave hearts, bow'd downward in affright,
Dark, as though noon had stumbled into night I
Not long. The bravest well may start to see,
For the first time, the face of Enmity
And enrnest Death.

THE DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE.
The Anthony Poplar of the early Numbers of
the Dublin University Magazine sits, or rather
gracefully reclines, at full-length before us.
The open book, and the gaze in which the cor-
poreal eye takes no note of objects though seem-
ingly fixed on them, tell us that the mind is busy—
that glorious visions of the past are floating be-
fore it. Anthony, then, is the Rev. Charles Stuart
Stanford, who, we are told, has exchanged the
editing of a Tory Magazine for the duties of a
village pastor in the neighbourhood of Dublin.
Verily we like his appearance well, and believing
his Christianity to be stronger than his Toryism,
have little doubt that he will leave nothing undone
to adorn any station which lie may hold in the
Church. Instead of forming the eleventh portrait
in the Irish Gallery, he ought to have stood the
first in a periodical of which he was the founder.
Of the present Number generally we cannot speak
in very high terms. " aarles O'Malley" is lively,
gossipping, and delightful as ever. but the staple
of the Number is dull and uninviting. Miss M. A.
Browne has contributed a hatch of beautiful verses,
but their effect is sadly marred by their juxta-
position with the " Shunamite," Part 111. of
" Fighting Fitzgerald," and a long elaborate dis-
quisition on the " Voluntary System." The
" Rival Tourists" begins well, and throws into a
popular and inviting form a dark period in the
domestic history of Ireland. The review of Mil-
man's " History of Christianity" is conceived in a
narrow and sectarian spirit.

THE CATHOLIC MAGAZINE.
Dolman,

The terseness and pithiness and enthusiasm
which constitute the charm of sectarian periodicals
to readers caring little for theological hair-splitting,
are nowhere to be met with in the pages of the Ca-
tholic Magazine. On the contrary, its articles arc
as placid in tone, and as decorously cold and life-
less, as if its Editor was clothed in the purple of the
archiepiscopal see of Canterbury. We would prefer
a little more warmth and animation. We have no
sympathy for efforts in any cause in which we can
discern no traces of latent energy and inextinguish-
able zeal. The Catholic Magazine is a sugar-
and-water affair, which neither slakes thirst nor
animates the spirits. The present Number contains
six articics, but none of them call for any particular
observation.

SIR HOWARD DOUGLAS AND
LORD CHARLES FITZROY.

A Morning Contemporary has published copies of let-
ters between Major Clarke, the friend of Captain. Percy
Lord
orCdh
John
Russell.Do ugla
Fitzroy,s
ob
by his theShi irs subjectil
Lordship,a Howard
of
fD
aoul
reflectingegtiletter
addressed
oo nn the haen cdtooSn duct of Sir
Howard. Captain Douglas denies everything asserted by
Lord Charles Fitzroy, regarding Sir Howard Douglas
having got up a story about a conspiracy, to answer his
own ends ; " and upon the other points (continued Capt.
Douglas) treated of in your letter, I shall only say that
your Lordship is strangely misinformed ; and that alto-
gether your Lordship is under very erroneous impressions
as to the character of Sir Howard Douglas's administra-
tion—impressions which have been imbibed by your Lord-
ship's lending an ear (too willingly, I fear, I may add,
from the tone of your letter to the Secretary of State), to
those whom, had your Lordship known them better, you
would have attended to less." •
The correspondence is brought to a close by Major
Clarke expressing himself satisfied with Lord Charles
Fitzroy's replies, conceiving that they " amount to a full
and honourable disclaimer of personality to Sir Howard
Douglas." The Major says :
Captain Douglas will, lam sure, be content to know
that your Lordship's language implied no stain on the
spotless honour of his father ; and I beg to repeat me
conviction that, at some future day, your Lordship wilt
find equal reason to withdraw your censures on the public
conduct of the Lord High Commissioner."

THE WINE CROP IN FRANCE.—The vine-
yards present this year the most rich and promising ap-
pearance ; so much so, indeed, that, as is usual on suck
occasions, every description of wine cask has within a few
days doubled its price. This being the case the thieves,
ever on the watch for an opportunity of exercising their
nefarious practices, have begun to turn their attention to
this species of plunder. Two fellows were detected in a
robbery of the kind, and on their dwelling being searched
by the police a large quantity of casks were discovered,
which had been stolen from different owners, arm winch
they were only waiting for a good market to dispose of.--•
French paper.
SINGULAR ESCAPE.—The Belfast, Captain
males, picked up on the 3d of May,
Eve
en
hadher obuetewnard
Finley, arrived at Liverpool on the 30th nit , om Ja •
ai beencth
the
eothirteen
sage, in lat. 16.34, von. 66.20 W. a small boat with :
negro boy in it, almost famished.
bner lown
o off
which tilebet'bilealoinnoaetd.
in and Maragalantc.
tidyearyns: hotenocbg oeoatft:t,
heleiboaviia:garyds
Fs
had drifted 284 mil^s in a westerly direction ; and was
much exhausted when picked
without food. The bo ' up, laving been seven daft,
y la now doing well.