The Sun.
London, England, 1861-01-07 00:00:00

LONDON LIFE FIFTY YEARS AGO.

" Old Parr-street has been a habitation for generations
of surgeons and physicians. I suppose the nobleman for
whose use the street was intended in the time of the early
Georges fled, finding the neighbourhood too dismal, and
the gentlemen in black coats came and took possession of
the gilded, gloomy chambers which the sacred mods vacated.
These mutations of fashion have always been matters of
profound speculation to me. IV by shall not one moralise
over London, as over Rome, or Baalbec, or Troy town ? I
like to walk among the Hebrews of Wardour-street, and
fancy the place, as it once was, crowded with chairs and
gilt chariots, and torches flashing in the hands of the run-
ning footmen. I have a grim pleasure in thinking that
Golding-square was ones the resort of the aristocracy, and
Monmouth-street the delight of the genteel world. What
shall prevent us Londoners from musing over the decline
and fall of city severeignities, and drawing our cockney
morals? As the late Mr. Gibbon meditated his history
leaning against a column in the Capitol, why should not I
muse over mine, reclining under an arcade of the Pantheon?
Not the Pantheon at Rome, in the Cabbage-market by the
Piazza Novona, where the immortal gods were wor-
shipped—the immortal gods who are now dead ; but the
Pantheon in Oxford-street, ladies, where you purchase
feeble poniaturus, music, glassware, and baby-linen ; and
which has its history too. Have not Selwyn, and Walpole,
and March, and Carlisle figured there ? Has not Prince Flo-
rizel flounced through the hall in his rustling domino, and
danced there in powdered splendour ? and when the ushers re-
fused admission tolovely Sophy Baddeley, did not the young
men, her adorers, draw their rapiers and vow to slay the
doorkeepers ; and, crossing the glittering blades over the
enchantress' heap, make a warlike triumphal arch for her
to pass under, all flushed, and smiling, and perfumed, and
painted ? The lives of streets are as the lives of men, and
shall not the street-preacher, if so minded, take for the text
of his sermon the stones in the gutter f That you were
once the resort of the fashion 0 Monmouth .street 1 by the
invocation of blessed St. Giles shallll not improve that sweet
thought into a godly discourse, and make the ruin edifying?
O ?nes freres ! There were splendid thoroughfares, dazzling
company, bright illuminations, in our streets when our
hearts were young : we entertained in them a noble youth-
ful company of chivalrous hopes and youthful ambitions ;
of blushing thoughts in snowy robes spotless and virginal.
See, in the embrasure of the window, where you sate look-
ing to the stars and nestling by the soft side of your first-
love, hang Mr. Moses' bargains of turned old clothes, very
cheap; of worn old boots, bedraggled in ho-v much and
how many people's mud ; a great bargain. See ! aleng the
street, strewed with flowers once mayhap—a fight of beg-
gars for the refuse of an apple-stall, or a tipsy basket-
woman, reeling shrieking to the station. 0 me! 0 my
beloved congregation ! I have preached this stale sermon
to you for ever so many years. omy jolly companions, I
have drunk many a bout with you, and always found
vanitas vanitatzon written on the bottom of the pot !"

" Framley Parsonage" contains this month a mar-
vellous incident, interesting to all who remember
" Dr. Thorne." Like Mr. Thackeray, Anthony
Trollope delights to introduce again and again
the heroes and heroines of farmer romances. To
both authors " the beings of their mind" are real
individuals, and as such they cannot suffer their
existence to fall into oblivion, and we expect the
readers of their fictions, for the most part, sympa-
thise in their opinions. " Falling in Love"
is an article that will not please the romantic,
for the writer considers such a calamity perfectly
optional, and to he indulged in or avoided, accord-
ing to the common sense of the parties concerned.
The Navy forms the subject of two sensible
papers, "Reform in the Navy" and "All at Sea
with the Fleet." "The Portrait of a Russian
Gentleman" describes one Anton Antonovitch,
" who held sin, soap, and razors in almost equal
detestation." " The career of an Indian Officer"
gives an interesting account of the rise and pro-
gress of Sir James Outram. "Chinese Officials,"
" Light Vessels," " The Parochial Union," and
" Wrongs of my Boyhood" fill the remaining pages
of the Cornhill, which is this month mere than
usually diversified in its contents.

Bailey's Magazine of Sports and Pastimes.
Sir Tattoo Sykes is represented this month, and
his biography will be perused with interest. "A
Shooting, and how to Manage and Mismanage it,"
is an amusing sketch of how two greenhorns rented
some shooting, and how they prospered. The
paper on Masters of Foxhounds is a consideration
of the duties of a master, and how he in general
enters on them. " From Oxford to the George" is
continued, with its usual ability and off-handed
style. The continuation of " Bear Shooting in
Russia" contains further hitts for the benefit of
would-be bear slayers. The sporting intelligence
for the month is given, and other information to
interest geuilemen of the turf.

One of Them. By Charles Lever. Parts 14 and

Conclusion.

Although this work does not in some respects take
rank with many of Mr. Lever's earlier productions,
such as" Charles O'Malley," and " Torn Burke of
Our's," yet in the variety of characters introduced,
and their clever delineation, this book deserves
favourable attention. The bold and straightforward
American stands out grandly in contradistinction
to the crafty Irish 11. P., whom, after all, we
cannot but wish success from the cool impertinence
of his daring; he proves himself to have the
national pride of his countrymen, and throw'
over the designing and unprincipled Mrs. Morris,
'c hen he discovers her real character. As we fore-
told in our last notice, the doctor and his son suc-
ceed in oversetting the schemes of Troyer and Co.,
and the widow of the murdered Godfrey Hawke
finding all her plans frustrated,-departs into obli-
vion in company with her father, and does not
again present herself to the reader. Alfred Layton
marries Clara. and Charles Heatthcote does the
same for May Leslie. And so we take leave of all
of them.

LETIE.R OF GARIBALDI.

The Atnico della Liberta, a Reggio journal, pub-

lishes the following letter addressed by Garibaldi, in
November last, to some Nespolitaas who urged him
at once to return to Naples. It entirely confirms
the general rumour that the ex-dictator intends to
resume his sword in the month of March :

Italians of Naples,—That it was painful to me to
leave you, God knows. My mission to you, how-
ever, was fulfilled, and 1 could not but take my
leave. I did so with an aching heart. Yeu now,
by your complaints, add to my grief. You ask me
to return among you. I cannot, oh my friends,
because I have resolved with myself never to let my
presence be an obstacle to your happiness and pros.
perity, which you will find accomplished under the
sceptre of the King galant'uomo. Believe me, then,
when I say that if my mission is to deliver
have
the
Italian people from slavery and tyranny, I
done it, oh Neapolitans, through your strength and
your courage. Yes, you are free,
and presencemitywould ,
on
among you would be of no advantag
the contrary, retard your progress. You have
been more fortunate than some of your brethren,
for there are still Italians in slavery. Why should
Why nor Sou needlessly call for
you be uneasy .
erwe q uf
ai
tr
ieg,
uaess
,aapnrde pt ahrea tni oenw fsourfftehre.
me ? Allow me for a few months that rest of body
i
and mind which
aattwhiat me. But all this is nothing—
ite s in question, and to Italy my life
in s
n e
Italywhc which
labours,h
is eonsecrate
to
. Rome and Venice expect my aid.
belong They Italy, their citizens are our
brethren, and they yet groan under the hard yoke
of Austria and of —.* Let me recruit myself
for the great storm which threatens. Do you hear
the lion roar? His roaring is that of rage, be-
cause he knows that his pride is about to have a
fall. He fears that arm which God has made
powerful enough to bring him down. Do you
see the descendants of the ancient Romans ? The
blood of their ancestors yet flows in their veins,
but they are prostrate on the earth—their faces
are in the mud, and they are borne down by
overwhelming oppression. They require a hand
to raise them up, and that hand stands in need of
rest to recover strength for the task. Let reason
and fraternal philanthropy second your love for
me. I will be with you in four months. You
shall see me again, but then I shall require a
proof of your love. If you really love me, which
I do not doubt, follow me, my dear fellow-citizens
—follow me, when we shall unite to deliver our
brethren of Rome and beautiful Venice. Then,
contented and united, we will constitute an Italy
one and independent under the sceptre of the King
galant'uomo. Victor Emmanuel. Adieu! At the
end of March we will embrace each other.
Caprera, Nov. 11, 1860. G. GARIBALDI.

* The French paper from which we quote this letter
thinks it prudent to leave a blank here. Garibaldi evi-
dently meaßi to refer to France.