The Sun.
London, England, 1861-05-25 00:00:00

Doors open at half past 6—Commence at 7.

A STLEY'S ROYAL AMPHITHEATRE.-
THIS EVENING, Grand Equestrian performance by
M. Boorne's Troupe—Davis Richards, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer,
Atc.—Three Clowns—Three Original Rocky Mountain Won-
ders, comprising their wonderful performance on the Flying
Tropez and Ladder Feat—M. Lauri's New Ballet Troupe.—
Reduced Prices.—Commence at half-past 7. Box-office open
daily. Private Boxes from 10s. lid. Day Performance on
aturday at 2 o'clock.

CANTERBURY -HALL CONCERTS
AND FINE ARTS GALLERY.
EVERY EVENING,
A Grand Selection from Verdi's new Opera,
UN BALLO IN MASCHERA,
(First prodnced in England at this Establishment),
With a Chorus of Forty Voices.
Also, Verdi's IL COitSARO, never performed at any
other Concerts.
Solos on the Cornet-a-Liston, by Mr. Levy.
The Comic Department comprises the Brothers Conrad (in
their new and inimitable entertainments), Mr. Wood and his
talented little Son, Mr. Marshall, Mr. Blanchard, Mr. Hol-
lingsworth, and Miss Rose Howard.
Musical Director, Mr. F. JONGUMANS.
T H E

F 0 It D,

6, OXFORD-STREET.

LEVY, undoubtedly the best performer of the day on
ne Cornet-a-Piston—Grand Selections (on the most complete
scale) from Dinorah, Martha, Stradella, &c., and other vocal
and instrumental music, by Miss Russell, the Misses Stuart,
and Miss Ernst, Messrs. Charles Greville, Fornari, Kimber-
ley, Bernard, Beaumont, Bervon, Huish, Signor Tivoli, and
Mr. Henry Herbert, with full band and powerful and selected
chorus, conducted by Mr. F. Jonghmans.—The following.
Comic talent, Messrs. W. Randall, J. Blanchard, W. H. Wie-
land, Hollingsworth, E. Marshall, Harvey, and French, and
the Brothers Conrad in their latest and best entertainment,
every evening. Admission, Hall, sixpence ; Balcony and
Stalls, one shilling. Private Boxes, 10s. 6d.

HIGH WATER AT LONDON BRIDGE.
Taut DAY.—Morning, 2h. 14m.—Afternoon, 2h. 38m.
To-mon.now.-Morning, 3h. Om.—Afternoon, 3h. 26m.

THB WEATHER.-SUN OFFICE, MAY 25, 1561.
THERMOMETER, IN THE SHADE.

65—highest since noon yesterday.
49—lowest this morning and during the night.
66—this day at noon.

BA.nounTzn-29.86.
:WlND—Weuterly—moderate; with fine weather.

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THE SUN.

LONDON, SATURDAY, MAY 25,:1851.

Another Broadside against the Southerners ! And
a Broadside, moreover, that flames out, as will be
seen, most effectively. Fired off as it has been not
simply by a Train but by the TRAIN, one is almost
tempted to designate him at once a Train of
Gunpowder.
A lengthened and graphic report of Mr. TRAIN'S
recent speech upon American affairs will be found
transferred to another part of our impression of
this evening, from the columns of our youthful con-
temporary, The London American. Reading Mr.
TRAIN'S harangue, in The London merican, it is
certainly another of those rare views, each of which
is popularly known when recognized, as that of the
right man in the right place. It is more than this
even, for the two (at any rate in name) appear to
be all but identical. We have already, long since,
begun to look upon Mr. TRAIN as one of ourselves,
as a genuine London American, as one who is
virtually, if not literally, naturalized, here in Eng-
land, as one thoroughly and perfectly acclimated.
Whenever he speaks, no matter where it is he
speaks, or what it is he is talking about, he is wel-
comed with a sort of enthusiasm, he is listened to
with unmistakeable eagerness. Why is this ?
Why ?—simply because here is a young man gifted
with the keenest common sense, and with a very lively
imagination,who feels strongly,and speaks right out,
and who is in every word and thought thoroughly
in earnest. In the ringing force and the transpa-
rent clearness of his vocabulary, there is some-
thing of WILLIAM COBBETT—better known at
one time on t'other side of the Herring
pond as PETER PORCUPINE. Only that, with
much of COBBETT'S vigour, and directness', and
lucidity, our " London American " TRAIN, combines
a liveliness of fancy and a warmth of sentiment in
a great measure unknown to that grim old GRID-
IRON. Here, in fact, is a man who not only calls a
spade a spade, without even a thought of indulging
for an instant in anything like circumlocution, but
who loves the very soil into which that patriot
spade is dug, loves it to the extent almost of a
profane extravagance. Throwing aside alto-
gether even one momentary thought of his
own individual enterprise, in the presence of the
dread calamity that has now descended upon his
Fatherland—he could think and speak the other
night at Islington of nothing else. It was, vast
heaving ! there—with his tramroads. " I had rather
talk about America," he says, ." than about street
railways." And so he does talk about America—
first of all putting it to his English hearers in re-
gard to American affairs as commented upon by
him as an American-." If I touch upon them
you will perhaps object to my language, my
earnest way of calling plain things by their
plain names. Will you," he asks, " let me speak
what I think ?" Of course the cry is " Yes."
And he does speak out—right out--accordingly.
He begins adroitly, however, by a little gentle and
apposite reminder. He says,—" You love your
country, so do I mine; you rejoice to see the Char-
tist demonstration crushed in its infamy. you
erect monuments to the heroes who stamped out the
Indian rebellion ; and you shot down those on the
Ballarat, when I was in Australia, when they broke
the law of the nation." And then he asks—" How
can you, therefore, sympathise with those blaek-
hearted
.knaves [no mincing the matter there !]
who would ruin a land blessed by God with natural
and national attributes grander than any known
to man." that—of courss—a little allowable
American exaggerating, one perhaps more
than simply allowable under the circumstances.
Let it pass, therefore. And let us come at
once to the pith and marrow of this earnest-think-
ing American's well-timed and boldly-enunciated
opinions in regard to the fratricidal war now carry.
ing flame and sword through the fertile regions of
that fair and noble land of republicans.
Referring to an aspiration that had been recently
uttered by another to the effect that the next mail
might bring tidings of Peace—that, as Punch
puts it, the news from the other side of the
Atlantic might breath more and more of the Pacific
—Mr. TRAIN almost cries out in au agony of indig-
nation, No ! "We are not quite ready," he says,
"to shake hands—our feelings at the North have
been too long outraged. We don't believe there is .