The Sun.
London, England, 1847-04-08 00:00:00

dolas ; the square towers are called campaniles ; and i
the name of the place itself is Venice.
" You cannot get there by land. The city lies out
away from the shore, high and dry, like the Goodwin-
sands at low water. So you go in boats—first along
rows of extensive Puddle-docks, and then over what
might be taken for a huge flooded race course, the post
and rails of which just appear above the water, so that
there is no great fear of drowning ; the whole tract re-
minding intelligent travellers of the Essex marshes out
at sea. And before getting there you must not be quite
led away by the poets, who are from time to time taken
so poorly respecting its beauties ; because the approach
thereto from Mestre—which is to Venice what Twicken-
ham is to Eel Pie Island—is not exactly like the dio-
ramas and descriptions you have formed your notions
from. In fact, in common-place minds, it may suggest
unfavourable comparisons with Wapping, until the pas-
sage boat emerges into the great water-street of this
amphibious city of human beavers."
This description of Venice, though less poetical, is
infinitely more correct than the descriptions to be
found in the note-books of sentimental travellers.
Gudge, his wife, and Mrs. Hamper, whom they
have picked up at Boulogne, arrive at an hotel at
Venice, and there they find Christopher officiating as
the English waiter. Gudge attempts to bully
him, but it will not do; Christopher is a
man now, and knows that there is a mystery
attached to his birth. He has been shipped off from
Southampton to Leghorn, and from thence has been
transferred to Vienna. He sets Gudge at defiance,
and appeals to Sir Frederick Arden, and when in-
formed that Sir Frederick Arden is dead, he bates
nothing of his courage, but avows his intention to
proceed to England and discover the mystery of his
his birth. Mrs. Hamper, who has palmed herself upon
the Gudges meets with some high friends who are
going to Florence, and determines to palm herself
upon them. She therefore leaves Venice for Florence,
via Bologna, but on her journey is attacked by bri-
gands, and taken up into the stronghold, where she is
detained as a prisoner for the sake of the ransom
which they expect to receive for her. Sprouts has
succeeded to the library, and is on the eve of mar-
riage with Bessy Payne. The jolly man has been
long married to Miss Twits, and Sprouts and the
party go down to Greenwich Fair, where they meet
with Skittle and the Taglioni Ginger Beer Cart, who
introduces them to Hickory and to Luddy's daughter,
an interesting girl of fifteen (poor Luddy is dead),
and in the course of conversation Hickory relates the
early history of Christopher, and Sprouts announces
his intention of following up the clue which
Hickory has furnished in order to be revenged on
Gudge. It will be seen that this part 8 leaves all
the parties concerned in an interesting imbroglio,
and we await with curiosity the appearance of part 9.

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VANITY FAIR. Part IV. By W. M. Thackeray,
In the opening chapter of the present number we
find ourselves again with the Sedleys and Osbornes
in Russell-square. Poor Amelia loves George
Osborne with her whole heart, but we are afraid that
George Osborne will turn out a worldling after all,
and not worthy the affection of poor Amelia. We
are also introduced to old Osborne, the very beau
ideal of a vulgar purse-proud parvenu, who would
fain cut old Sedley, the founder of his fortunes, because
the world has not gone well with him of late and who,
more than insinuates to George that it would be well
that he should violate his engagement with Amelia.
Miss Rebecca Sharpe is domiciled in the house of
Miss Crawley, in Park-lane, having ejected all Miss
Crawley's toadys, and Rebecca is visited there daily
by Rawdon Crawley, who has become acquainted
with George Osborne, and plucked him gloriously at
billiards. Rebecca calls on Amelia, and invites her to
dine at Miss Crawley's in Park-lane. George Os-
borne and Rawdon Crawley are also invited, when the
following admirable scene takes place :...._
" How's little Miss Sharp, by-the-bye," Osborne in-
quired of his friend over their wine, with a dandified
air. " Good-natured little girl that. Does she suit you
well at Queen's Crawley? Miss Sedley liked her a good
deal last year."
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was any jealousy in the bosom of that life-guardsman.
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going to be kind to her and protect her. He would
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even shake hands with her, as a friend of Amelia's ;
and saying, " Ah, Miss Sharp ! how•dy-doo ?" held
out his left hand towards her, expecting that she would
be quite confounded at the honour.
Miss Sharp put out her right fore-finger—And gave
him a little nod, so cool and killing, that Rawdon Craw-
ley, watching the operations from the other room, could
hardly- restrain his laughter as he saw the Lieutenant's
entire discomfiture ; the start he gave, the pause, and
the perfect clumsiness with which he at length conde-
scended to take the finger which was offered for his
embrace.
" She 'd beat the devil, by Jove I" the Captain said,
in a rapture ; and the Lieutenant, by way of beginning
the conversation, agreeably asked Rebecca how she
liked her new place.
" My place?" said Miss Sharp, coolly, " how kind of
you to remind me of it ! It's a tolerably good place :
the wages are pretty good—not so good as Miss Wirt's,
I believe, with your sisters in Russell Spare. How
are those young ladies?—not that I ought to ask."
" Why not?" Mr. Osborne said, amazed.
" %V hy, they never condescended to speak to me, or
to ask me into their house, whilst I was staying with
Amelia ; but we poor governesses, you know, are used
to slights of this sort.'
" My dear Miss Sharp !" Osborne ejaculated.
"At least in some families," Rebecca continued.
" You can't think what a difference there is though. We
are not so wealthy in Hampshire as you lucky folks of
the city. But then lamin a gentleman's family—good
old English stock. I suppose you know Sir Pitt's father
refused a peerage. And you see how lam treated. I
am pretty comfortable. Indeed, it is rather a good
place. Bet how very good of you to inquire I"
Osborne was quite savage. The little governess pa.
tronised him and persillied him until this young British
Lion felt quite
uneasy ; nor could he muster sufficient
presence of mind to find a pretext for backing out of
thi I
thought you liked the City " s most delectable conversatin.
families pretty well,"
he said haughtily.
" Last year you mean, when I was fresh from that
horrid vulgar school ? Of course I did. Doesn't every
girl like to come home for the holidays? And how was
Ito know any better? But oh, Mr. Osborne, what a
difference eighteen months' experience makes.—eighteen
months spent, pardon me for saying so, with gentlemen.
As for dear Amelia, she, I grant you, is a pearl, and
would be charming anywhere. There now, I see you
are beginning to be in a good humour ; but oh, these
queer odd City people I And
gr. Jos.—how is that
wonderful Mr. Joseph?"
" It seems to me you didn't dislike that wonderful Mr.
Joseph last year," Osborne said kindly-
" How severe of you! Well, entre nous, I didn't break
my heart about him ; yet if he had asked me to do what
you mean by ycur looks (and very expressive and kind
they are, too), I wouldn't have said no."
Mr. Osborne gave a look as much as to say," Indeed,
how very obliging!"
" What an honour to have had you for a brother-in..
law, you are thinking? To be sister-in-law to George Os-
borne, Esquire, son 3f John Osborne, Esquire, son of—
what was your grandpapa, Mr. Osborne? Well, don't
be angry. You can't help vour pedigree, and I quite
agree with you that I would have married Mr. Joe
Sedley; for could a poor penniless girl do better? Now
you know the whole secret.
rie frank and open ; and,
considering all things, it was very kind of you to
allude to the circumstance—very kind and polite.
Amelia, dear, Mr. Osborne and I were talking about
your poor brother Joseph. How is he?"
Thus was George utterly routed. Not that Rebecca
was in the right ; but she had managed most successfully
to put him in the wrong. And he now shamefully fled,
feeling if he stayed another minute, that he would have
been made to look foolish in the presence of Amelia.
Poor Rebecca, however, is caught in her own trap.
Lady Crawley dies, and the Baronet himself comes
to London to induce Rebecca to return to Queen's
Crawley:—
" I wawnt you back at Queen's Crawley, Miss," the
baronet said, fixing his eyes upon her, and taking off
his black gloves and his hat with its great crape hat-
band. His eyes had such a strange look, and fixed
upon her so steadfastly, that Rebecca Sharp began
almost to tremble.
" I hope to come soon," she said in a low voice, " as
soon as Miss Crawley is better—and return to—to the
dear children."
" You've said so these three months, Becky," replied
Sir Pitt, " and still you go hanging on to my sister,
who'll fling you off like an old shoe, when she's wore
you out. I tell you I want you. I'm going back to the
Vuneral. Will you come back? Yes or no?"
~ I daren't—l don't think—it would be right—to he
alone—with you, Sir," Becky said, seemingly in great
agitation.
I say Elgin, I want you, Sir Pitt said, thumping the
table. " I can't git on without you. I didn't see what
it was till you went away. The house all goes wrong.
It's not the same place. All my accounts has got mud-
dled agin. You„must come back. Do come back, Dear
Becky, do come. ,
~ Come—as what, Sir? ' Rebecca gasped out.
" `
Come as Lady Crawley, if you like," the baronet
grasping his crape hat "There! will that zatusfy
you? Come back and be my wife. Your vit vort. Birth
be hanged. You're as good a lady as ever I see. You've
got more brains in your little vinger than any baronet's
wife in the county. Will you come? Yes or no?"
said,
'
Oh, Sir Pitt," Rebecca said, very much moved.
..Say yes, Becky," Sir Pitt continued. " I'm an old
man, but a good n. I'm good for twenty years. I'll
makeoti you happy, zee if I don t. You shall do what
y like • spend what you like ; and 'av it all your own
way.
rii make your a settlement. ril do everything
reglar. Look year I aid the old
man fell down on his
knees and leered at
her like a satyr.
Rebeccastarted back a picture of consternation. In
the course of this history we have never seen her lose
her presence of mind.; but she did now, and wept
some of the most genuine tears that ever fell from her
Oh, Sir—l—l'm mar-
, rled already."
)f i ...1..r_re._•ere.......................
1 eyes. i»
Sir Pitt!" she said. ;4

CHEAT' STEAAI TRAVELLING.—Yesterday steam-
vessels were conveying paisengers from the river Thanes
to Ipswich for 21, euh.