The Sun.
London, England, 1847-04-05 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, MON"D AY }:,'1774,1r/i4G,_APRIL 5, 1847.

MAGAZINES—(CONTINUED.)
DOUGLAS JERROLD' S.
The " History of St. Giles and St. James" now
rapidly approaches a conclusion. In the chapter
which concludes the present number of the Magazine
the two heroes are again brought together, both pri-
soners on capital charges. St. James recognises St.
Giles, and promises him his protection. " I tell you,
St. Giles," says the young Lord, to his fellow-pri-
soner, " you shall still find friends in my family;
your life shall still be spared."
" And what for, my lord ? To be shipped off again—
to be chained and worked worse than a beast ; to
have every bit of manhood crushed ; to have no use for
thought but to think curses. No, my lord ! Fate's
against me. I was sent into the world to be made, as
hey call it, an example of; and the sooner it's all over
the better. I was born and suckled a thief, I was
whipped, imprisoned, transported, for a thief ; and
something better grew up in me, and I resolved to turn
upon the world a new face. I was determined. c-'me
what would, to live honestly, or die in a ditch for it.
Well ; the world wouldn't have it. The world seemed
to sneer and laugh at me for the conceit of the thing.
I've been dodged and dodged by the devil, that first sold
me ; I've tried to defy him ; but, as I say,
fate's against
me, and it's no use. I look out:upon the world, :JO I
only see one place—one little piece of ground—where
there's rest for such as I am ; and where mercy may be
shown to them as truly repent. I trust to get from God
what man denies me.'
"Nay, poor fellow—', "
Beg your pardon, my Lord," said Whistle, putting
his head in at the door, "but the post-chaise is come,
and—it's only a form—but we must drive to Kingston,
to the magistrate's."
"I am quite ready," said St. James, taking his hat.
" And your other prisoner?"
We've got a cart for him," answered Whistle.
" Not so," said St. James, " we'll'even ride together."
" Why, your lordship would never so condescend—
never so demean yourself—"
" Get in," said St. James, opening the chaise- door, and
urging St. Giles, who reluctantly entered the vehicle.
"There is no condescension for such villany as mine."
" All right," said Whistle, mounting outside; "all
right—to Kingston." And St. James the homicide, and
St. Giles the horse-stealer, were, in close companionship
of guilt, driven to the magistrate's, on their way to the
county gaol.
" The Dreamer and Worker " is likewise continued,
and the Bth chapter, with which this number opens,
is admirable. We return to the worker, Harding, and
find him employed in Portsmouth Dockyard, where
we are introduced to one of the escaped from the
wreck; Mr. John Downs, brickmaker, Stourbridge—
a sturdy practical utilitarian, who delights to stand
up for his rights, and has a hatred for police and
spies. The description of the block machinery, the
anchor forges, the carriage building, the ship-
building, are very graphic--so clear and so
understandable, that the various processes
described are distinctly seen by the mind's eye. This
is an admirable chapter. We have a graceful poem
by Mrs. Acton Tindal, on the visit of Charles 11. of
Spain, to the Council Chamber of his ancestors, en-
titled " The Visit to the Tomb," and in his " Heads
and Tails of Families," Paul Bell is for once not
cynical. He gives us a religious subject, in the
person of the Rev. Mr. Vavasour, a pious, humble,
actively charitable, controversy hating, truly Chris-
tian curate, who, upon 1001. a-year, does more good
than many a bloated pluralist upon 1,000/. " Cob-
den on the Continent," is the title of an article by
Angus B. Reach, from which we extract the follow•
big eulogium on the career of the greatest English-
man of our own times —may we not say, notwith-
standing the glories of Napoleon and Wellington,
and the greater because bloodless glories of O'Con-
nell, the greatest man of his age—the only one of
our days whom Providence has called to execute a
world-wide mission, who has understood and obeyed
the call—Richard Cobden.
" Richard Cobden was a commercial traveller once—
and although the world may not at first blush think it—
Richard Cobden is a commercial traveller still. Some-
times on the road—sometimes on the rail—an active
emissary of Manchester ; he distributed his patterns—
collected his debts—opened up new connexions—con-
solidated old ones—wrote his daily bulletin of the state
of trade—the tightness of money or the glut of stock—
to the city of the tall chimneys—and then officiated as
Mr. Chair, or Mr. Vice, in that hastily-gobbled dinner,
which commercial gentlemen always seem to hurry over
as a piece of disagreeable necessity, to be got through
with as quickly as possible.
" And Richard Cobden is a commercial traveller still.
True, he shows no patterns—takes no order—duns no
customer—represents no firm. His progress is not now
from Manchester to Liverpool, or from Nottingham to
Derby. his ever shifting habitation is no longer that
big, side-boarded, dreary, bookless, commercial room.
He Vieth not from shop to shop--esigning bills—writing
receipts—vaunting a new design in calicos—predicting a
rise in cotton. Aud still, we repeat, he is a commercial
traveller.
" Yes—the greatest—the most remarkable traveller
the world has ever seen. Europe is his district—nations
are his customers—the memoirs of the League fill his
book of patterns—he deals in mighty principles—he
distributes visit doctrines—he exhibits new designs which
shake the polity of empires—ho predicts universal com-
mercial interchange—no land, no city, which he has not
filled with the fame and thn credit of his great consti-
tuent, the tnigh:.y firm of Free Trade, throned in the
realms of England.
" Richard Cobden, literally the commercial traveller--
and Richard Cobden, figuratively vie commercial travel-
ler I How vast the leap 1 The Mister Cobden who
derived his little areEght from his calico-making consti-
tuents—whose name circulated but amongst his own
little class—the knight-errants of the Ledger—whose
talk was naturally of invoices and bills of parcels—who
was cared for but by mottled faced landlords and grimy
bootses—in fact, Mr. R. Cobden, Bagman.
" Study that picture first—then this.
" Richard Cobden, the wide world known—the leader
of the gt?eatest mercantile confederacy man has ever seen
—the wielder of a power the most pacific—the most
pliable—but the most overwhelming probably ever
guided by one governing spirit—Richard Cobden who
revolutionised an empire—who will revolutionise the
world, and who did it without the glitter of a bayonet or
the crack of a musket—Richard Cobden who prostrated
the proudest oligarchy of Europe—who ruled the man
who i uled the Legislature which ruled the empire—
Richard Cobden, at once the missionary—the champion
—the advocate—the embodyment of Free Trade—strid-
ing in his triumph over Europe—everywhere welcomed—
everywhere honoured—his health toasted—his name,
his principles, and his deeds proclaimed in every
language of civilisation—everywhere sowing the
good seed—everywhere telling the good tidings-
-everywhere pointing out hew protection clogs men's
progress—how it isolates them and makes them enemies
—how, to the eye of mercantile genius, customhouses
show like frowning ramparts, and tariffs like standing

armies.
" 'Tis a wondrous, a promising, a happy phenomenon,
the tour of Richard Cob len. It is greater than ever was
monarch's progress—will exercise more power than ever
did conqueror's march. He sets people thinking. lle
leaves little Leagues behind him—he consecrates, so to
speak, local Villierses, and Brights, and Foxes. He
sets many balls rolling. Festal banquets everywhere
await him—oh, may they be the forerunners of that
great festal banquet which the world shall sit down to,
when, like the guests at a pie- nic, every nation shall
bring its share to the setting forth of the table—one
offering bread—another wine—a pastoral land its meat
—a manufacturing its steel, wherewith to crave the
viands I
" Free trade !—the woid is now a household one in
many tongues—the idea will soon become as familiar,
and then will it be translated into action."

of the literature of England from Alfred to Chaucer;
some Pleasant Rambles -in Town and Country ; and
a dissertation upon that thread-bare topic, Education.
Latterly we have observed a super-orthodox spirit of
a rather acrimonious character peeping out in the
pages of Hood. We would hint to the editor the
propriety of not deviating so far from the track of
his gentle, liberals and noble -hearted predecessor.

THE MAN IN THE MOON. Edited by Albert
Smith and Angus B. Reach. No IV.
Reader, art thou an anxious searcher after the
origin of things ? Dost thou delight to study
" Beckmann's History of Inventions," and, laying
down the book, regret that no one has undertaken a
supplement to it. Hast thou, when passing Lynn's,
ever cast a lingering look on the wells of oysters
fascinatingly arranged in his window, and wondered
within thyself who was the first man that ever eat
an oyster ? If thou bast purchase the fourth No.
of the Man in the Moon, satisfy thy thirst for know-
ledge, and hear " how eating oysters was invetted.'
Now don't imagine that we shall betray the mystery
by giving an extract from this supplement to Beck-
mann, we shall do no such thing. Such knowledge
as this is too precious to be imparted at second-hand.
We think, however, we may verdure to extract the
Man in the Moons account of—
" HOW THE FAST-DAY WAS SPENT.
("Collected from various statements )
" Ma. STRAGGLES. Is a regular brick, and no mistake:
has been called a Gent: wasn't offended: why should he
be ? Didn't observe the Fast, although he looked for
it ; doesn't know anybody that did. Had a breakfast
party that day, and kept it up until the next morning ;
believed them—he did rat. Bought up all the kidneys
he could get, the night before. No end of half-and half.
Bank shut up. Never had such a Fast day in his life,
and don't care how soon he has another. Thinks the
Ministers are jolly bricks, and hopes they may never go
out. Politics and Ireland be Wowed.
" LUIGIA HERBERT. Is a coryphee: has been told she
is pretty, and believes it. Was invited to make one of
a party to Greenwich, for a fish dinner. Went. Rather.
Thinks the Fast great fun, only her salary was stopped
at the theatre—three and sixpence for the night.
Shouldn't care if another Fast happens when she's with
Beale, because he only opens Covent-garden three nights
a week, and she will have five-and-twenty shillings.
Went to a ball at night: never had such a polka. Didn't
know why it was a Fast-day, and didn't care.
" THE HONOITRABLE NORMAN VAVASOUR. Has bees
in Ireland. Saw a gentleman very much distressed in
the streets at two.o'clock in the morning, trying to get
home. Didn't help him. Served him right. Begged
pardon: didn't hear the question. General Fast! Who's
he ? not seen his name in the army list: must be in the
militia. Oh! Wednesday! yes: recollects now: dined
at his club ; remembers his bill of fare was much as
usual ; never touches salt-fish ; thinks it d--d insipid
stuff. The only advantage is that it provokes thirst ;
but devilled biscuit does better. Went to a party at
night—a dance—declines to say where. Not fair—'pon
his honour it isn't. Was obliged to go, because he had
promised the Monday before at Weippert's. Heard
nothing about the East there. Thought it had probably
something to do with Puseyism ; but hadn't read the
Tracts for the Times. Didn't know Pusey. Had heard
his sister talk about him, and, from what she said, didn't
want to.
" MR. RANT. Is doing the leading business at the
Bower Saloon. Had played once for the Irish, for
nothing: and thought it base ingratitude to be done out
of another nights salary, for the same purpose. Spent
the day in Battersea-fields, studying a new part. Saw
a great many people there, apparently enjoying them-
selves. Went to the Wrekin at night, and opened an
account there. Shouldn't have done it if it hadn't been
for the Fast, which mulcted him of his night's salary.
" MARY STUBBS. Is a maid of all work in a lodging
house. Didn't know which way to turn on the Fast-
day. All the gentlemen in the house gave parties, from
Mr. Thompson in the parlour, to Mr. Birton on the
fourth floor. Never heard such a noise—never; thought
she should have been worrited out of her life by the
gentlemen ; they did eat and drink so. She never see
such a Fast. Missus was going to church, but wouldn't,
because she hadn't got her new bonnet; and what was
the use of going to church shabby ? Drats the Fast,
and all the Irish too. Never know'd no good of none of
'era, since she was engaged to Corporal Nowlan, who
borrowed five shillings of her, the day htrwent away for
ever. Wishes she'd made him fast.
" fd. PETITVERRE. A entendu parley d'un "Fast
day''--a demand 6 ce que vela voulait dire. L'on lui a
repondu que c' emit un jour maigre. Croit que l' on
s'est tromi‘ car tout le monde faisait b nine chair. A
passe la journiie avec des gentlemen riders, et n'a fait que
boire et manger. Croit que c est une bonne habitude
de trailer ainsi les fours solennels, et une qui fait
honneur aux Anglais."
This is the best number of this laughter-moving
little work that has yet appeared. The illustrations
are exceedingly rich.

and we have seen specimens of the raw material brought
from that province of extreme whiteness and delicacy.
But the uplands, in fact, of all Borneo are adapted to the
cultivation of cotton; and should it hereafter suit our
policy to take actual possession of the immense tracts of
country formerly ceded to us by the Sooloos, we shall
probably discover that the mountainous regions about
Kenn Balu will excel all other parts of the habitable
globe for this particular species of culture, the soil being
of incomparable richness, and the climate of most genial
and equable warmth.
. .

" Other islands on which we have just claims would
likewise furnish an immense supply. New Guinea,
for example, might almost 131 converted into one huge
cotton plantation. At least, all the lower ranges of bills
and the undulating plains skirting the sea, might be ad-
vantageously adapted to the growth of cotton. Many
degrees further westward, the small and little known
Chagos group already produces this material of long
staple and silky fineness ; and if, instead of being de-
voted to the rearing of hogs and the production of cocoa-
nut oil, the whole surface of the islands were covered
with cotton plAntati,ns. we should, in all likelihood, be
able to command a large supply, equal in quantity to
the best sea island.

" It may be likewise worth while to turn our attention
to the northern coast of New Holland, and mere especially
those rich plains which stretch round the Gulf of Car-
' pentaria, where the cotton shrub would unquestionably
flourish, though it is impossible to determine is priori
what would be the qualities of the wool produced. Still
the experiment is oGviously worth making. o:hur colo-
nies and countries might be pointed out ; but enough has
been said to show the extent and variety of the inquiries
which ought immediately to be instituted by Parliament
and the country.
We trust the attention of the Government and of
the Legislature will be speedily directed to this most
important subject. The writer alludes to Southern
Africa as likely to become one of our cotton produc-
ing colonies. The readers of " The Sun" will remem-
ber that a short time since, we published a letter from
a settler at Port Natal, stating that he had tried the
experiment of cotton growing there with the greatest
success—that the produce was greater in quantity,
and better in quality thin the cotton of the United
States, and the labourers in the colony could be hired
in large numbers and at a very low rate of wages.

Several large houses have already been let for the
coming season; the applications for houses have been
mere numerous than we before rememb3r so early in the

sas OIL