The Sun.
London, England, 1856-02-04 00:00:00

TALLOW.

Our market is exceedingly heavy► and prices are lower.
P.T.C. on the spot, is nominally quoted at 67s per cwt.
Other sorts may be had 2/. per ton beneath this price, and
of an equal quality.. Rough fat, 31. ld. po r 8 lbs.

1
1851. 1852. I 1853. 1854. 185
Stock this day .... 54.936 41,659 33.861 •40,470 21,432
3556 d to 43s 9d 625 Oat° 565 61 to 58s 6d
Price of Y. C .... [ 35a 91 to 44s Od —3 06 —a Od to —3 06
Delivery last week • • 2,355 2,124 1,981 1,721 817
Ditto from June 1.... 77,905 72,011 73,911 65,729 81,509
Arrivals last week.. 521 324 1,144 6,072 276
Ditto from Junel .... 96,307 74,142 89,459 61,199 56,399
PricP of Toun - .. 39; 6,11 468 64 64i Od 578 ad 563 66

tion. Here is Blackwood's tribute of admiration to
Robson, the bright particular " star " of the
Olympic. The reviewer has just said that Robson
is "perfect nature"—and adds thereupon :
" Perfect nature in burlesque—impossible ! Is it pos-
sible, however, with Robson. Usually burlesque acting
is the most unnatural thing in the world ; no single
passion or state is represented truly ; every word, every
tone, every look is false. With Robson, however,
every tone is true, every look is nature ; it is in the
jumble and juxtaposition of details that his burlesque
consists, in suddenly passing from the extreme of anger
or fear to the extreme of humorous ease, in suddenly
relapsing into vulgar slang in mid-volley of the most
passionate speech, and all with the most marvelous
flexibility of voice and feature. Presto ! faster than we
can follow him, he has changed from grave to gay, from
lively to severe. The Yellow Dwarf of last year was
probably his greatest effort, although Prince Richcraft
of the present season is not far behind. It has a mad
scone, whichis equal to anything he has ever personated."
Blackwood is loud in its censure, by the way, of
the word-catching of our fast young London play-
wrights, such as Mr. Talfourd, not forgetting even
a veteran punster like Mr. Plancho, the admitted
Prince of Burlesque-writers. Yet for the sake of
a miserable play upoo words the critic himself is
guilty of an act of gross injustice where he says of
persaps the finest pantomime of late years—E. L.
Blanchard's glorious Pantomime at Drury-lane—
" Hey Diddle Diddle the Cat and the Fiddle, is all
fiddlededee." Such are the temptations of a joke,
however empty, blatant, and worthless it happens
to be Here, however, is the critic's happy out-
burst of indignation, half serious, half assumed, in
regard to the Pantomime Proper, its punnin gpre-
lude, and its boisterous harlequinade :
" Puns, puns, nothing bat puns-- tnd such rough prac-
tical joking as the youth of England delight in ! What
an immense deal of laughter they manage to get out of
that part of the body in which angels are said to he
deficient. It is kicked, pins are stuck into it as a con-
venient pin-cushion ; Clown puts a live lobster into his
comprehensive pockets, and jumps up with fearful gri-
maces. Then what pulling of noses ; how they are
fattened, how they are lengthened, how they are black-
ened with soot, how they are filled with snuff till the
poor member sneezes and bleeds ! And how little the
fellows in the boxes laugh and crow over the practical
jokes ! It is such rare tun to see Clown stumble over a
baby and crush its head like a pancake, and double it
up into the cradle. 0 glorious to see a shopkeeper's
window smashed, and his coat torn off his back ; to see
Clown burning the potatoes and licking the rnast, and
throwing carrots and turnips about the stage ; to see
Pantaloon pitched into the pot, and turning out a plum-
pudding ; to see Clown's head cut tiff, and the body
running headless about the stage, the head crying out
for the body,—glued on to the shoulder, and so happily
united that Clown takes a leap through a window, and
tumbles bask as well as ever through the grating below ;
to see the sucking-pig running about, and given to the
nurse instead of her lost child ; to see Clown for all his
iniquities put into a great gun, with lots of powder, and
shot to perdition, next hanging like a caitiff from the
top of the theatre, and suddenly flopping down on the
devoted heads of first and second fiddle in the orchestra.
Hip, hip ! away, you little wicked•eyed youngkers, and
when you go house put the poker in the fire, Master
Jacky, turn in your small toes, and with your redhot
plaything burn holes in the tails of papa's coat, while
Sarah Jane dances about in all the ecstacy of Colum-
bine."

The last sentence is nothing more nor less than a
reminiscence of one of those delicious little sketches
of Christmas-time in John Leech's glorious " Pic-
tures of Life and Character." After this very read-
able essay on " The Drama" comes a singularly un-
readable and tediously ill-timed paper headed
" Lessons from the War"—just as we are agonised
by sinister doubts and fears as to the chances of a dis-
graceful Peace, the attempted patching up of which
is to begin before the 20th of this present February.
At the close of the current number of Blackwood's
Magazine there is, to crown all, a brief but genial
tribute of praise to the Rev. John Caird's eloquent
and practical sermon upin " Religion in Common
Life," the sermon recently preached before the
Queen, and just now published by her Majesty's
command.

Dublin University.—The remarkable story of
" The Fortunes of Glencore " is again resumed,
but its progress is not very rapid in this number.
The gloomy recluse, Lord Glencoro, accomplishes
his vow, in informing his son of the unhappy mys-
tery that hangs over his birth, and the result is
that the boy rushes off in a state of distraction.
The cautious Sir Horace Upton endeavours with
his plausible sophistries to smooth matters, but to
little avail, and at the termination of the present
part, the wretched object under dispute is left dan-
gerously ill at a little cabin, where lie had taken
shelter. The amusing tale entitled " Love in Curl-
Papers" is continued, and is interesting; there is
something very pleasing in the character of Bea-
trix, she is simple and unassuming, and the Pro-
fessor is described in a natural manner. The peace-
ful tenour of the time that the four passed together
on the banks of the Rhine is a pretty sketch of
rural life, and if, as is observed, its continuance
tended to monotony, it was not the less a bright
dream of the past, to shine out vividly amid the
lowering clouds of future existence. The calm
was transient, however, for circumstances compel-
led the German student to depart, and while his
English friend was endeavouring to account for his
strange disappearance, he, too, was called upon to
leave, as he received a letter from his father, de-
nouncing his mode of life, and repudiating the
idea of his forming an engagement with Bea-
trix. The Professor and his daughter were
left to speculate on the attractions the world ever
exercises on its votaries, however they may
declare
for a time that they are willing to give up
" Its pomps, its pleasures, and its nonsense all."
" The Doctor in the Witness-box" enters at some '
length into the late strange occurrences connected
with the Burden case. " Novels and Novelists"
contains some curious specimens of old times. It
is remarked that what are now considered synony-
mous terms were then very different, namely, ro-
mances and novels, and that, in speaking of the
difference in length between them in the " Curio-
sities of Literature," Disraeli felicitously observes
—" Our grandmothers were incommoded with
over-grown folios ; and instead of finishing the
eventful history of two lovers at one or two sittings,
it wa,D sometimes sip kayntltsa inauding tUrtdoys,

Bentley's Miscellany.—" The Question of the
Day " is the title of the opening article in Bentley's
Miscellany, and of course takes into consideration
the pending negotiations. It is followed by the
editor's new story of " The Spendthrift," which
is continued in the same lively strain that has
hitherto characterised it. It narrates the adventures
of the masquerade supper. A paper on Mout St.
Michel and its cachots, gives some curious accounts
of that remarkable fortress. A description of the
cage which existed there for many years gives a pain-
ful idea of the barbarities which despotism found
means to execute Flo late as the seventeenth century.
A news-writer in Holland, published some sarcastic
reflections on Louis XIV. and Madame de Main-
tenon. Soon after he Was induced to quit the
Dutch territory, and immediately he had done so
he was arrested and conveyed to Mont St. Mi-
chel, where he was shut up in the cage. He re-
mained there twenty-three years, and at last died
there. He was allowed neither fire nor candle,
nor was he permitted to have a book, or to see
any human being except the jailer, who handed
him his daily food. He contrived to draw a nail
out of the wood, and to carve on the bars of his
cage armorial bearings and flowers. This was his
only amusement or occupation during his frightful
captivity, a singular memorial of the greatness of
the " Grand Monarque." Dudley Costello's story
of the " Dock Warrants" is continued at some
length and without much interest. The readers
of "Bentley" may possibly admire this style—it
appears to us to possess more verbosity than ele-
gance. More interesting papers are those on
" Laurence's Life of Fielding" and "Ueaumarchais
and his Times." Perhaps it is not generally
known that the despised Quartier de Saint Denis in
Paris has the honour of being the birth-place of
Beaumarchais, Regnard, Scribe, and last, not least,
Beranger. " Our First Lodgers" is the continua-
tion and conclusion of a story that appeared in last
month's number. As a matter of course there is
an article on Sebastopol, which, however, is dis-
tinguished by fair and moderato views. As a mat-
ter of course, also, the " Adventures of Benjamin
Bobbin, the Bagman" are continued. The only
poetical contribution is some spirited verses on
the "Minehead Pilots," in allusion to the belief
still
prevalent there that a phantom ship occa-
sionally appears to lure pilots to a watery gray-.
Monkshood, in his "New Book Notes," gives us
some entertaining remarks on Mr. Macaulay's
new volumes. In allusion to the numerous
authorities who have furnished him with in-
formation, and .to his own assertion that he has
turned over every page in the collection of rew,
papers of William the Third's reign in the British.
Museum, the writer remarks that few indeed are
the historians who could have done that, and yet
show no trace of their researches in their pages.
Ho aptly quotes a remark made by }Judos—
" L'historieu doit tout lise, et no doit ecrire quo ce
qui merit° d'etre lie."‘

Colburn's New Itimtt "Omer Pacha's
Campaign" in Asia is a subject which has
lately excited so much interest that we are
not surprised to find this part of the campaign
the topic of the opening article. It chiefly
treats of the natural, peculiarities of Armenia
and its neighbourhood, and the fortifications,
&c., of its cities and towns; "Adela Chenevix" is
the title of the first part of a tale by the author of
" The Unholy Wish." It is written with the
author's usual skill, but the plot is a painful one,
and we fear, if he fulfils his promise of a continua-
tion, it will become more so. A notice of Mr.
Kingston's book of " Western Wanderings" gives
some amusing extracts relating his Canadian expe-
riences. A paper on Russia on the Black Sea
and the Sea of Azoff is founded on Mr. Seymour's
recent work, and furnishes the reader with some
novel information. An essay on " Unhealthy
Employments" presents some striking subjects for
the consideration of employers and workmen. It
not only shows the evil, but the means by
which it may be evaded, or at least ameliorated,
by some of those simple rules so invaluable
in their effects, but so often disregarded. It
is not, perhaps, generally known that one
of the most fatal employments is that of the workers
in flax mills. Of these not one in 2,079 is found
alive at 70, while out of 110 gardeners there aro
10 who have reached this period of life. It must
be mentioned, however, that the latter occupation
is the most healthy, persons in independent cir-
cumstances being generally the longest livers of
any. This is easily accounted for by their exemp-
tion from the cares and anxieties that press upon
those who have to earn their living, besides their
absence from the injurious action of the different
articles of manufacture, &c., such as the prejudicial
effect of the stone dust upon masons, and of the
oxide of load on the workers at glazad. earthenware.
The thirty-fifth number of the "Literary L3aflets"
furnishes us with a criticism on Dr. Liddell's
" History of Rome," which gives the historian
credit for adequate scholarship, clearness of ar-
rangement and style, and calmness of judgment,
but aments the absence of the depth or originality
of view, the energy of grasp, the penetration
into character which are to be desired in such
a work. " Stoke Dotterell" is completed, and
brings the troubles of its hero and heroine tea satis-
factorytermination. " The Bonfire at Temple ar "
is a boisterous cavalier song, whose style may be
best imagined from the supposed singers. It is
described as " sung by a party of merry fellows,
dressed in dirty crimson and yellow satin, as they
lean out of the window of a Fleet street tavern,
May 1660." It is anonymous, but the style is
similar to some productions of Mr. Thornbury.
The second part of " The Alchemist's Daughter "
contains the conclusion of that melancholy history.
This is one of those translations from the G-srman,
which bear unmistakeable evidence of their origin
in their murders and banditti, unfortunate attach-
ments, and all sorts of mystic horrors and sre_nitit-.
mentalism. " Fontainebleau under Louis I
and Napoleon I." contains some useful hisiedicilli
information, which is not, however, convey
the most lively manner.

e o owing rom
at the present crisis. en
rthic ll • f e
Colburn's United Service is not "found wanting"
n't find
the moment
Ignominious Peace,"
the pen of the editor :—we write
is all but concluded. . . .
rircle:ng intentions, surrender every-
thing
.
an 211
0a ignominious
uies
aft
cr t
hp
they have won, and are thankful to receive
in return the lost Armenian stronghold and a strip
of worthless territory at the mouth of the Danube.
At the very moment when we were about to put
forth our strength, when our army was revived,
and our gun-boats, two years on the stocks, were
at last launched, we throw down the sword and
clutch at the olive branch, which, to say the truth,
we could devoutly wish were a good cudgel to be
laid over the backs of the men who conclude this
peace." Referring to the dropped question,
" What is to be done with the Crimea ?" he remarks
—" For ourselves we think of the English blood
which has watered its accursed soil ; of our dead
comrades who lie by thousands in the same gory
bed, and, what is even more deplorable still, of our
national honour buried under the debris of the
Redan. For what have these sacrifices been wade ?
Truly we might think it was to avenge Moscow and
reverse Waterloo." Of a verity one might ! But
hearken : " This peace may be concluded, but it is
only the beginning
of the end ; and our battle.
With
Russia, however long it may be delayed, will yet
have to be fought out"—aye, as surely as day fol
loro night, But isthe editor oatioted that the

Fables Nouvelles : suivies de foesics Diterses. Par
le Chevalier de Chatelain. Whittaker and Co.
The translator of " Gay's Fables" into French,
appears before us, in this charming little volume,
himself as an original fabulist. The Chevalier de
Chatelain has mastered net only the barbarisms of
our own vernacular—but the harsher language of
bird and beast; insomuch that he takes rank
among the Mezzofantis of the aviary and the zoo-
logical garden, a disciple at once of Gay and Pilpay I
of iEsep and La Fontaine. Turning over his plea-
sant pages it is like gaining a new sense—at the
first rustle of the leaves we are listening to a sage
dialogue between the elephant and the scorpion !
Another flutter of these same leaves and we are
overhearing a confabulation between a candle and
an eclipse ! Another, and we are hearkening to a
chance talk between a tiger and some moun-
taineers. It is a glimpse, again, of Fairyland.
The glamour is once more upon us. wre- are
crowned, as it were, with the Cap of For-
tunatus. We are striding over the hills
in the seven-league boots of Hop o' ray
Thumb. We have a loan from Jack the Giant-
killer of his sword of strength and his shoes of
swiftness. Closing the book and returning to
every-day life—it is like the Princess of the Magic
Pantomime leaving her spangled tunic, and her
tinselled crown, and her glittering wand, to walk
home in the gaslight and the snow, in grey shawl
and a straw bonnet. Apart from the " Fables,"
however, the book before us has its. eccentricities.
It is dedicated "Au Poete Henry 'Wadsworth
Longfellow," in terms so high-flown that they must
infallibly have soared far over the head of the
object aimed at, but that that happily chalced to
be at somewhat of the loftiest altitude—homage,
that is to say, to the genius of the truest
and loveliest of the poets of America ! The
" good taste" of the dedication, howbeit, may
seasonably, we cannot but think, be called in
question, when it is remembered that words of
praise to Longfellow are jumbled up confusedly
with gibes at "le 21 Mars dernier, Fast Day ! ce
jour ou l'Elypocrisie, l'Odieux,' et l'Absurde,
Trinite tou to puissante en Angleterre, (kc.,"
and jeers at " l'affaire Honorable Francis Villiers,
fils du Comte de Jersey, et Membre du Parla-
ment pour Rochester, et bien d'autre encore I ! !"
The italics, by the way, being the Chevalier's own,
and so too, for that matter, being likewise the
notes of admiration. However, M. de Chatelain is
a brave man—and that is the secret of it all—other-
wise we should never have him, for instance, cele-
brating the terrible legend of " Le Juif Errant,"
we won't say after sue, but after Beranger ! After
that wonderful refrain—
"Toujours, toujours,
Toujours, toujours,
Tourne la terre ott nsoi je tours,
Toujours, toujours, toujours, toujours."
Among the minor pieces in the volume under
notice, entitled to commendation, are the charming
stanzas " le voudrais etre"—stanzas conceived in a
strain kindred to that exquisite Chanson, in the
" Miller's Daughter" of Tennyson--
"And I would be the girdle,
About the dainty dainty waist,
And her heart would beat against me
In sorrow and in rest ;
And I should know if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight."
Sweetest morceait of all the hook, however, to our
wind is incomparably " Le Reve D'un Petit En-
fant"—beginning :
" Comore it est heureux mon grand frere,
Qu'il est heureux d'avoir six ans !
Taniis que je fais ma, priers
Au bal it va, nest-ce pas, mere ?
Au hal de Brands petits enfants?
Ah ! qu'il est heureux mon grand fr.re,
Qu'il est heureux d'avoir six ans !"
Gentle is the heart of the Chevalier de Chatelain,
say we after that. If eccentric may be his taste
now and then—gentle is his heart and lively are
his imaginings.

The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine. No. I.
Conducted by Members of the Two Universities.
Bell and Daldy.
Judging it solely from its table of contents, we
might a3suridly be tempted to pronounce this new
adventure in the literary world to be one of the
most attractive of this month's periodicals. Ex-
amining it more carefully, we aro compelled to
pronounce it one of the very flimsiest. There are
two " storiettes" in it—" The Cousins" and " The
Rivals"—rivals so nearly related to each other
that they might be described as cousins. There is
the prelude to a sententious biography of "Sir
Philip Sidney," something in effect like.nne of the
pictures described once upon a time by Mr. A.
Titmarsh, " handsome gilded frames with paint-
inffs in them." There is a jingle of verse called
" Winter Weather : a Poem." There is what is
termed " The Story of the Unknown Church."
And there are reviews, to crown all, of Kings-
ley's " Sermons for the Times," of Tennyson's
" Poems," of Longfellow's " Song of Hiawatha,"
and of Tiiackeray's "Newcomes." Sufficiently
alluring as themes, no doubt—but read them
Read the criticism on Tennyson--the nut-cracking
of the veriest squirrel of a prig ! Read " The
Essay on the Newcomes"—a sort ofmongrel
half sermon, half review, written, it would seem,
not so much upon a desk as upon a pulpit cushion.
The contributors to the Oxford and Cambridge
Maga;ine are evidently lions, like Bully Bottom,
who can "roar you like any sucking dove"—
a set of slow young men,—(there is no other word
for it),—Prigs—in all-round collars and Noah's
Ark coats—holding the Dii Majores of the new
age to be Mr. Ruskin, and Kingsley, and Mr. Hol-
man Hunt, Mr. This, and Mr. That, and Mr. The
other, and themselves of course destined to set
the Thames in a blaze. Meanwhile in due time—
be sure of that—their grand bran new organ of
The Oxford and Cambridge Magazine will inevit-
ably, infallibly, inexorably—Die the Death !