The Sun.
London, England, 1833-06-11 00:00:00

A HOT DAY.

Now the rosy- (and lazy-) fingered Aurora,

issuing from her saffron house, calls up the moist
vapours to surround her, and goes veiled with
them as long as she can': till Phoebus, coming
forth in his power, lookS every thing out of the

sky, and holds sharp uninterrupted empire from

his throne of beams. Now the little girl at her
grandmother's cottage_ door watches the coaches
that go by, with her hand held over her sunny
forehead. Now labourers look well, resting in
their white shirts at the doors of rural ale-houses.

Now an elm is fine there, with a seat under it ;

and horses drink out of the trough, stretching

their yearning necks with loosened collars ; and
the traveller calls for his glass of ale, having been
without one for more than ten minutes ; and his

horse stands wincing at the flies, giving sharp
shivers of his skin, and moving to and fro his
ineffectual docked tail ; and now Miss Betty
Wilson, the host's daughter, comes streaming
forth in a flowered gown and earrings, carrying
in four of her beautiful fingers the foaming glass,
for which, after the traveller has drank it, she
receives, with an indifferent eye, looking another
way, the lawful twopence : that is to say, uiless
the traveller, nodding his ruddy face, pays some
gallant compliment to her before he drinks,
such as, " I'd rather kiss you, my dear, than the
tumbler,"—or " wait for you, my love, if
you'll marry me ;" upon which, if the man is
good-looking, and the lady in good-humour, she
smiles anti bites her lips, and says, " Ah—men
can talk fast enough ;" upon which the old
stage-coachman, who is buckling something near
her, before he sets off, says in a hoarse voice,
"So can women too, for that matter," and
John Boots grins through his ragged red locks,
and doats on the repartee all the day after.
Now grasshoppers," fry," as Dryden says. Now
cattle stand in water, and ducks are envied.
Now boots and shoes, and trees by the road-
side, are thick with dust ; and dogs rolling in it,
after issuing out of the water, into which they
have been thrown to fetch sticks, some scattering
horror among the legs of the spectators. Now a
fellow who finds he has three more miles to
walk in a pair of tight shoes, is in a pretty situa-
tion. Now rooms with the sun upon them be-
come intolerable ; and the apothecary's appren-
tice, with a bitterness beyond aloes, thinks of the
pond he used to bathe in at school. Now
men with powdered heads (especially if thick)
envy those who are not powdered, and stop to
wipe them up hill, with countenances that seem
to expostulate with destiny. Now boys assemble
round the village pump with a handle to it, and
delight to make a forbidden splash and get wet
through the shoes. Now also they make
suckers of leather, and bathe all day long
in rivers and ponds, and follow the fish into
their cool corners, and say millions of "my
eyes ! " at " tittle-bats." Now, the bee, as he
hums along, seems complaining heavily of the
heat. Now doors and brick-walls are burning
to the hand; and a walled lane, with dust and
broken bottles in it, is a thing not to be thought
of. Now a green lane, on the contrary; thick-set
hedge-row elms, and having the noise of a brook,
" rumbling in pebble-stone," is
.one of the
pleasantest things in the world.—Now, in town;
the gossips talk more than ever to one another,
in rooms, in doorways, and out of windows, al-
ways beginning the conversation with saying the
heat is overpoweling. Now blinds are let down,
and doors thrown open, and flannel waistcoats
let off, and cold meat preferred to hot, and won-
der expressed why tea continues so refreshing,
and people delight to sliver lettuces into boWls,
and apprentices water doorways with tin canisters
that lay several atoms of dust. Now the water-
cart, jumbling along the middle of the streets,
and jolting the showers out of its box of water,
really does something. Now boys delight to
have a waterpipe let out, and set it bub-
bling away in a tall and frothy volume.
Now fruiterers' shops and dairies look plea-
sant, and ices are the only things to those who
can get them. Now ladies loiter in baths, and
people make presents of flowers; and wine is
put into ice, and the after-dinner lounger recre-
ates his head with applications of perfumed
water out of long-necked bottles. Now the
lounger, who cannot resist his new horse, feels
his boots burn him. Now buckskins are not
the lawn of Cos. Now jockeys, walking .in
great coats to lose flesh, curse inwardly. Now
five fat people in a stage coach, hate the sixth
fat one who is coming in, and think he has no
right to be so large. Now clerks in offices do
nothing but drink soda water and spruce - beer,
and, read the newspaper. Now the old clothesman
drops his solitary cry more deeply into the areas
on the hot and forsaken side of the street ; the
bakers look vicious and cooks are aggravated; and
the steam of a tavern kitchen catches hold of one
like the.breath of Tartarus. Now delicate skins
are beset with gnats ; and boys make their
sleeping companion start up, with playing a
burning glass on his hand ; and blacksmiths are
super-carbonated ; and coblers in their stalls
almost feel a wish to be transplanted ; and butter
is too easy to spread ; and the dragoons wonder
whether the Romans liked their helmets ; and
old ladies, with their lappets unpinned, walk
along in a state of dilapidation ; and the servant
maids are afraid they look vulgarly hot ; and the
author, who has a plate of strawberries brought
tim finds that he has come to the end of nis
vriting.—lndicator.

The Bruce Manchester coach to London was
overturned about two miles from Bakewell, in Derbyshire,

on Tuesday afternoen, the 4th instant, when Mr. Silver,
of Cornhill, London, met with a severe compound fracture
of the leg ; another gentleman was also severely injured.
The rest of the passengers escaped with slight bruises.

The church-rate influenza—a political epi-
demic of extraordinary virulence—is fast spreading over
the country. The smaller parishes catch the di•temper of
the larger towns, and no Conservative precautions can
stop out the new disease. The inhabitants of Hands-
worth, a populous parish in Staffordshire, adjacent to Bir-
mingham, have shown decided symptoms of this cona•
plaint, which is remarkably confined to laymen. The
fact is, that the people—crushed by the national and local
taxation, by the assessed taxes, county rates, poor rates,
and church rates—naturally rid themselves of that over
which they have some popular cintrol. The bishops and
clergy also hve, of late, taken extraordinary pains to rid
their country of the burden of tithes and church rates.
Tue heads of the church, by their conduct in the House
of Lords, are hated by the mass of the people ; the pa-
roi;hial clergy; by patronizing close vestries, and confining
ad parish affairs to a clique of their own nomination, are
equally out of favour. Encouraged by example, the re-
volt against church rates is spreading far and wide ; the
D.ssentei s, of course, shrewdly encourage the disaffection
to the impOst ; and between those who cannot pay, and
those who will not, the Established Church bids fair to
-be in ruins in a twelvemonth, unless the Legislature
affords her a sufficient aid by timely and prompt reforms.
When the more immediate questions of public interest are
disposed of, and Parliament rises, we shall see a siege laid
to English tithes and church rates, unless decided mea-
sures are adopted. It is impolitic to continue burdens
which are pecaliarly odious to the people; because they
must at length be abandoned ; and the misfortune is, that
in the meantime habits are acquired of getting rid of
taxation, in-a way which cannot be contemplated without
uneasiness.— Morning Chronicle.