The Sun.
London, England, 1849-12-27 00:00:00

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

BETTING AT MANCIIESTER.—WEDNESDAY.
CHESTER Cur.-50 to 1 agst Peep-o'-day Boy (t),
50 to 1 agst Listnahago, 1,000 to 15 agst Lady Evelyn,
1,000 tols agst Melody, 1,000 to 15 agst Cossack (taken
several times), 1,000 to 15 egst Baby, 1,000 to 12 agst
Whim colt, 1,000 to 10 agst Sylvan.
DERBY.-9 to 1 agst Bolingbroke. 12 to 1 agst
Ghillie Callum (t), 15 to 1 agst The Italian, 17 to 1
agst The Nigger, 17 to 1 agst Voltigeur, 25 to 1 agst
Cyprus, 30 to 1 agst Moultan, 1,000 to 15 apt Minx
colt.

COURT CIRCULAR.
WINDSOR, WM.
The Queen and Prince Albert took theirNESDAY usual
morning walk.

The Royal Family took walking exercise in the
grounds adjacent to the Castle.
Ills Royal Highness Prince Albert went out shoot-
ing this morning, attended by Lord Elphintone,
Colonel Berkeley Drummond, Lord Alfred Paget,
and Colonel Bouverie.
There is no addition to the royal dinner party
this evening.

Lord and Lady John Russell returned to Pembroke
Lodge, Richmond Park, yesterday, from a visit to
the Marquis and Marchioness of Lansdowne, at I3o-
wood Park, Wilts.
Dispatches were received yesterday at the Colonial-
office from the Governors of Hong-Kong, Ceylon,
the Mauritius, and Malta. Dispatches were also
received on Tuesday, at the Colonial•office, from the
Gowrnora of the North American Provinces, and
from the Governors of the West India Colonies.

DEATH OF THE RIGHT REV. BISHOP COLERIDGE.

—lt is our painful duty this wet k to record the death of
the Right Rev. Bishop Coleridge. The venerated prelate
returned to his scat, Salston, Ottery, on Thursday last,
for the purpose of spending, with his estimable family,
the Christmas season. About three o'clock in the after-
noon on Friday the Bishop was out looking at the rains
of St. Saviour's-bridge, over the Otter, shortly after
which, on his way home, and just as he had reached the
farmhouse, his hind (Mr. Horsford), who resides there,
asked him how he was. He replied, " I feel very unwell,
llorsford," and immediately reeled, but Mr. Horsford
caught him and prevented the fall. Soon after this the
Bishop expired. His sudden death is supposed to have
been caused by the bursting of a bloodvessel in the heart,
In his demise the Church has lost a learned and most
faithful prelate, the country a wise and consistent Eng-
lishman, his tenants a good landlord, the largo circle of
his family and acquaintances a sincere man in the
domestic and friendly relations of life, the poor a kind
adviser and a benevolent benefactor.— Western Luminary.
During the course of last week a bill, of which the
following is a copy, was circulated over the town of
Paisley:—" The good time's come. Wanted immediately,
60 masons, SO joiners, 10 plumbers, 30 bricklayers, 20
slaters, and 50 labourers; in all, 250 able-bodied and ac-
tive men. James Torrance, Esq., of Elgin-place, will meet
with them on Monday evening first, the 17th inst., in the
hall, 2, New-street, and explain as to terms of :engage-
ment. Liberal encouragement will be given." As
might have been expected, the hall was filled to over-
flowing, principally with Irish labourers. Mr.
Torrance appeared, and, as announced in a
second bill, delivered a lecture on the subject
of total abstinence from intoxicating liquors, and
reprobated in severe terms the publication of the bill, as
' copied above. A person in the meeting wished for some
information as to the origin of the bill, as he knew men
who were present, who, hearing of it, had come from
Barrhead, Glasgow, and other places, to obtain work as
labourers. The printer, on being asked who employed him,
stated that it was the secretary of the society who
handed the copy of the bill for him to print. Mr. Se-
cretary, it appeared, did not possess the courage to face
the meeting, considering, no doubt, he was as safe else-
where till the business was over. It is to be hoped that,
for the sake of the temperance movements, as well as
placing the peace of the town in danger, no such reck-
less publication shall be again allowed to appear.—Ren-
frewshire Reformer.

ACCIDENTS AT SEA.—We regret to announce that
a party of five fishermen belonging to Bernera, have, it is
to be feared, met with a watery grave. They proceeded
some eight days ago to the fishing ground, and for a
time their absence gave little anxiety, as it was thought
that they had taken shelter in a fishing bothy on one
of the neighbouring r,islets. Little doubt, however,
exists that the boat and crew have been lost, for
an oar, a seat of the boat, a basket, and a
bonnet of one of the men have been found on the
coast of Harris. Four of the men have left widows and
helpless children, and these are all reduced to the most
abject state of destitution. On the morning of Tuesday
week, a small haddock-boat belonging to Findochty,
proceeded to sea with five men on board. for the purpose
of catchirg haddocks, when, melancholy to relate, the
boat was upset, and David Flett, and three young men
of the name of Smith, sons of William Smith, met with
a watery grave.— Witness.
The late William Etty, Esq , of York, the eminent
painter, died worth 40,0001. He served an apprentice-
ship to the printing business in this town with the late
Mr. Robert Peck, upon the Hull Pochet, and the house
in which Mr. Etty's father then resided in Church-lane,
as a confectioner, is still occupied by a brother of the
deceased, in the same business, in his 70th year. The
whole of his property has gone to another brother at
Scarborough. Tho deceased, throughout life, mani-
fested kindly feelings towards all his brothers, and par-
ticularly the one in Hull, who bought him the first box
of paints, and still possesies under the paternal roof
some of the earliest productions of his pencils.—Eastern
Counties Herald.

We regret to announce the death, at Malvern, on
Monday last, of Mr. Patrick Fraud. Tytler, the well-
knowa historian of Scotland. By his death a literary
pension reverts to the Crown.

Though I may _ see you again, dear Mary,
for many months, yet you refuse me one kiss as a
remembrance ?"
2 "Ohl I am a great girl now, Edward, and shall
not let any one kiss me again."
"But I have known you from such a little child,
ought not this to be my authority ? You know lam
your old friend, and am sorry to part from you with-
out a token of our friendship."
" Well, but I am a great girl, and I ought not."
Edward Morgan was about to leave the village of
-, to enter upon a situation in London, and the
above dialogue took place between him and Mary
Warner, on the evening before his departure; for he
would leave in the morning before the household were
up. Edward was a young man of nineteen or twenty
years of age, and had known Mary 'Warner since she
was a child of ten years. She was now fourteen, and
though not to be called handsome, had an expression
of sweet sensitiveness and of quiet good-temper,
plainly marked in her face.
To attempt to reason was useless, and with a heart
tco full to talk, Edward could but faintly c xpress his
sorrow at the one boon denied him, and bidding her
good-by, retired to his chamber, concealing his grief
as best he might.
Mary Warner lost Ler father when she was but an
infant, and compelled by circumstances, went to live
with her kind old grandmother. Being naturally a
child of affectionate disposition, a fond love sprang
up between them ; and the pain of separation, when
in her tenth year she came to live with and assist her
mother, was mutually severe to grandmother and
child. But with the happy nature of children, love
soon transports itself: the affections must find a rest-
ing-place, the soul needs a confident, and who can
claim so strong a right as a mother ? It was at her
home that Edward Morgan first saw the child.
Himself very young, and of a warmly sensitive
nature, he had witnessed with unconscious sympathy,
the playful simplicity of little Mary, and had been to
her a tried friend as "jumper," or the recipient of the
exuberant overflow of kisses which the pure heart of
a child lavishes upon any one it loves. The calls of
business often separated the young friends, months
intervened between their seeing each other, but
scarcely any alteration took place in the simple de-
light of renewed meetings. And oh who will deny
that these moments of unconscious love are the
dearest in our lives, when the satisfaction of present
happiness leaves no void, suffers no hope to intrude,
but is true enjoyment, innocent rapture. When
conviction that we love first comes home to us, we are
from that moment subject to fear and hope ; the pre-
sent becomes only the road to a future, and is impa-
tiently endured. Anxiety lends its aid to fever us
with its promptings, and we then feel the pains of
love, as before we enjoyed its pleasures. For the
love spontaneously springing up between the boy
and girl is of the holiest nature, and partakes of the
passivity of the purest feeling.
"A great girl, and ought not," repeated Edward
as he sat down to think. " How cruel to doubt me,
or to distrust her own faith in me. It is with none
but the sincerest feeling, Mary, that I hoped for
thy love." Edward went to sleep, pondering why
such thoughts should influence his dear girl. And
he comforted himself by lying it to the world's
teaching, that what a child may do with propriety
a girl may not do. But he would have envied any
envied any one but himself a kiss. He relied upon
his love to overcome all opposition, unmindful in his
enthusiasm that older people include policy in their
creed.

Edward Morgan came to town with hope beating
in his heart, yet scarcely daring to indulge in its
visions. The reflection afforded by leisure, soon con-
vinced him of the nature of his feeling fur his friend.
Day after day he longed to hear from her, and would
have written every day, but restrained his love that
he might not appear impatient. However, many
little exchanges of kindness took place, and somehow
or other, Christmas found the young friends together
in the village again, and the two or three days of
conversation and playfulness endeared them still more
to each other. Her growing shyness he watched
with a cool but emphatic love, and he thought that
he was not unregarded by her whom he loved so
fondly. The parting was a greater misfortune than
ever, and it seemed like a pilgrimage to some un-
known land, to go, and leave behind him all he held
so dear.

Another Christmas passed, and a little present
made to Mary induced her mother to request that no
more such gifts should be made, for people began to
talk, and her daughter was so young, that she
thought it much better all intercourse should cease.
We have said that Edward had a sensitive heart,
and this announcement rendered him almost speech-
less. His love had so grown from friendship, that it
seemed like denying him a sister's affection to deprive
him of liberty to correspond with his Mary. But he
' said little; at a distance from her whom he loved,
forbidden by the mother, he would not endeavour to
ga'n from the daughter a word in his favour. Ear-
nestly he besought Mrs. Warner to allow him to
continue his acquaintance with Mary, but she as
resolutely forbade him ; he could only gain from her
her decided opinion that it would be for the best to
separate for two or three years, though she would
give no reason for her decision. A positive order
accompanied this letter, that no hope was to be in-
dulged et present under these circumstances.
Love, indeed, could not be extinguished. Often
did Edward grieve at the distance which sundered
them, believing that his presence might have rendered
all again happy, and he could not determine what had
caused such sudden change of feeling. Once more
he wrote ;no reply was vouchsafed. Sorrow now
seemed a fixed companion with him, and he was a
solitary soul among many busy and thoughtless
acquaintances.

" And you never doubted my truth, Mary; never
believed me to be so fickle-minded, as to be smitten by
the first pretty face I might see, when remembrance
ever kept your features present to me."
"Oh ! no, I could not have thought so. I did not
understand, until we parted for the last time how
dear you were to me. My mother no doubt meant
well, but did she act wisely ? To separate two true
hearts, because I was but little more than a child."
" My love was too lasting to be destroyed, Mary,
but not too indifferent to be wounded. It was torture
to send a loving spirit away from its idol, sacrificing
present happiness to a future possibility. Do you not
think that the love which is developed with the child,
has the surest foundation, and should be equally valued
with the feeling inspired by maturer years ?"..'
"I did and do think so, Edward, for our interest
was in all good things. It was your sympathy with
the artless pleasures of childhood, that led me as a
child to be pleased at your notice ; the same feeling
expanded and ripened into sincere affection, and time
has but shown the truth of our simple instinct. My
dear mother now believes that no harm would have
come of our continued acquaintance, that an obedi-
ence to a foolish custom was but following an error,
although the intention on her part was a good one."
"I do not blame your mother, Mary; she, I am
sure, did what she thought was the best. But what
need for separation of young hearts when the mu-
tual attraction is of so certain a nature as was ours.
What but sorrow can be the result—days of restless
anxiety, when the time might have been irnprovingly
passed ? Where intelligent feeling is manifested,
be assured no probation is required. The best
discipline is the converse of the parties implicated.
A separation may be the means of other con-
nexions being formed ; feelings dulled by hopelessness
may be triumphantly spoken of as evidence of a pas-
sion which was but fanciful, not deep, but are they
not stronger evidence of a disappointed faith ? It is
not a tantalizing deprivation which persuades us to
set greater store upon possession ; the cognizance of
beauty is the best warrant for its due appreciation ;
let us not think that the separation of two kind spirits
increases the love between them. It may give it dif-
ferent forms of expression, may lead it into different
trains of thought, but cannot add a grain to its ster-
ling weight."

I feel that you are right, dear Edward ; the fears
I endured for the three years of our reparation were
bitter in many respects. True, I had many happy
days and many happy hopes in the future ; the realiza-
tion, however, of happiness in the present seemed
impossible. Time has brought -all things round as
we could best wish, though accidents might have
produced results that I trembled to think of. Oh
every day I feel it truer that our souls are linked in
fellowship by the undying power of sympathy."
As we have seen, our young friends were enabled
to fulfil the aspirations most dear to them. 'We are
anxious to draw attention to the commonly received
opinion that "absence but endears." We humbly
think this must depend upon the peculiar nature of
the feelings in question. Where intelligent love in
its simplicity sees its own strength, it is impatient of
coetradiction ; its fervency cannot be exalted by,
denial. Should we succeed in raising a little thought-
ful discussion upon this point—if only to induce
considerallin before action—we shall do all we hope
to do, and perhaps htlp to reconcile the too often
contrary decisions or the old and young.
Let mothers endeavour to guide aright the impulses
of jllvenility, foster affection whenever it is discer-
nible, and it Love doss rule the world, or should: they
will he doing the greatest good in the most pleasurable
manner. J. B.

TUE LATE EARL OF CARNARVON. - The funeral
of this lammted nobleman was directed by his will to
be strictly private, bat such was the respect entertained
for his memory by his neighbcnrs and tenantry, that on
the arrival of the hearse of Newbury, ou its way to the
family scat, Higbcicre Castk the shops were ail closed,
and it was met !Aar the entrance by the mayor, alder ,
tiler, and town-clerk, with many of the leading inhabi-
tants, who preceded the remains of the lamented noble-
man through the town.