The Sun.
London, England, 1859-12-10 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 10, i 859,

BRITISH POSSESSIONS.

Share Railways. paid. Cplorsileen.g
1"1.=—.....-eno done

Atlantic (4/ St Lawrence
Leamed at 6 per cent.
Bom.,Ba.roda&Cent.lnd
gu. 5 percent
Do. Addit. Capital A
Do. Do. Ii
Buffalo and Lake Huron

all
100
all

20
20i
10
100 I
100
190

Do. New

Do. Preference
Buffalo,Brant.&Godrich
6 p. et. bds. 1 Auir., 1812
Do. do. 1 July, 1873
Do. do. 1 June, 1874
Clcutta. & S. Eas t ru . Lim.
Cape,Eas tn. Prov.(Lim.)
Cape Town & Dock Scrip
Central Oude (Limited)
Ceylon Guaranteed 6p.e
Demerara
Eastern Beng-al.gru.sp.c
East Indian, zu. 5 p. a
Do. F_ Shares Ext !

17&
20
Stock

Do. Jubbulpore
Do.4i p.c. Bds. pay.'s9
Do. 4i p. c. Deben:rs.
G eelong& Melbourn e
Geelong Corporation 6
per cent. Bonds
Grand Trunk of Canada
Do. 6 per cent. Pref
Do. 6 per cent. Debentr
Do. 7 per cent. 18 62
Do. do. 1867
Do. do. 1872

Sto. I
Stock)

100
Stook

Gt. IndiaPenin.gua.sp.c.
Do. New, gua.s per cent.
Gt.S.of Ind.Lina.—Scrip
guaranteed 5 per cent.
Gt.W. of Canada Shares.
Do. New
Do. Bonds pay. '76,with

20 f
l
20k
20i
100 I

100
100
100
Stock
Stock
Stock
Stock

opt. till '6O
Do. do. '73 till '6O
Do. do. V 3 without opt
Do. 5} p. c. do. '77 do
IMadras, guar., 4i p. C
IDo. do. 5 per oent
'Do. p. c. Extension
,Do. Third EL gua.s.p.e
Do. Fourth do.
Do. do. . ,
Melb. Corp. 6 p.c. Bonds,
'Newßronswick&Canda.
riy.&Land(Lim.)g.6pc
Ciaas A Capitl. Share
.Do. do. Land do
Do. do. B. Capital do
Do. do. Lau4 do
Oude (Limited)
Scinde d +5
Do. New co
Do. Punjaub A
Do. Indus. Lit. Flo. •El,'"
St. Andrews &Quebec A
Trinidad(Limited) Scrip

Stout

all
all
all
1 160

1.3 0.

;2e. 6d.

all
all
all
1 100

82 84

081 991
17} 171
d•
41 sid
511 61

spar i p

lici

Id
103 103}'
par Id
par id

1 i

- --d

19t 200
i(.l par

id par

831
991 9

FOREIGN RAILWAYS.
10 Antwerp & Rotterdam all 45 45 I I
20 Ardennes all p
20 Bah.&S.Fran.,Lim.7p.e 5 5 I 45
6 Belgian East. Junction all 1
20 Beziers to Graissessac. all
6 Carmeaux Mine & Rail all 24 21
100 Copiabo
10 Ditto Extension all 1 # d
20 Dutch Rhenish
20 Eastern of France all 28 27
20 Euphrates Valley 2s p
20 Grand Rus. Guar .5 p.c 6
20 Great Central of France all
20 Gt. Luxem., Con. shs all 74 75
20 Italian Junction all
20 Lake Constance & Bala all
20 Lierre and Turnhout all
20 Lombardo Venetian lO 21 25p 125
20 Lyons and Geneva
335 Maria Antonia all
10 Do. do. New
20 Namur and Liege all 81 8
20 Do. do. 6p. c. Pref all 191 201 195
16 Northern of France
20 Do. New Shares
10 Norwegian Trunk Pref all 9 10
20 Paris,Lyons, and Medit all 375 270
20 Paris and Orleans
2„ Recife& S. Fran. (Fern ) 13 11 1 d 111
" gua. 7p. et. (Lim.)
20 Riga and Dunaburg 8
10 Rome and Frascati
20 Royal Danish all
5 Royal Swedish
4 Do. 7 per cent. Pref all
20 Sambre and Meuse. all 65 7
10 Do. 55 per cent. Pref all fik 9
20 Southern of France
85 West Flanders all 55 51
10 Do. 55 p. c. Preference
20 W. & N.W. of France all 23 24
20 Western of Austria 6
20 Western of Switzerland all
6 Wiesbaden
6 Do 8 per cent. Pref all
20 Zealand all

Share'

1i I d
c
1 I
i 3

44
I 4
1

1

i e
il t

54 56 I
79 81
11 13
22 24 P
6 7
51 53
120 130
36 38
1
1

1011
It

$1 &
271

14 15

BRITISH MINES.
-- -
Share Mines. Paid. 1 Closing Business
Price. Dona
Alfred Consols (Phila.(*) 2.11.1$ 45 51
20 British Iron
Clifford
Devon G. Cone. (Tavist ) 1 435 445
bast Bassett (Illogan) 3O 1225 1275 125
East Caradon
E. WI Itusal (Tavistk.) 7.4.0 10# 11 11
Gam..kSt.Aubyn(Gwen.) 512 624 65 GI
Great South Tolg,us l7s 135 14
G.Wheal A lfd.(Phitlack! 12.4.2 1 14
G. Wheal Vor (Helston)
Grenville 9l 4 ti
i Herod' s-Foot 8 22 22
1 Hingston Downs 4.3.6 45 4
Lady Bertha
Margaret (Uny Lelant) 9; 44 46
North Downs
North France sil Rogan) 10 5 65
North Wheal Crofty 7.9.4 9 105
N.Wh'l Basset (Illogan) 5 5 65
Par Consols (St. Blazy). 15 9 10
20 Providence (Uny Lelntl 10.6.7 45 47 47 $
Sortrldge Cons. Min. Cc. lOs 1 6
SoutliCaradon (St.Cleer) 15 250 260
Sovth C. Brea( Illogan). 2 25 21
S -Wheal Fran. (Illogan) 18.18.9 105 175
Stray Pal k 18.18.0 195 205
5 Tamar Silver and Lead
Mining Co 45 2 35
10 Tin Croft 9 55 51
Vale of Towey (Carm ) 125 6cl
West Basset (Illogan) l4 18 lt 1$ 4
West Seton
W. Caradon (Liskeard). 10 79 75
Wheal Basset (Illogan). 55 180 190
..- Wheal Buller (Redruth) 5 1075 1121
Wheal Edward (Cats.).. 6 11 1
Wheal Kitty (U. Lelant) 1.7.2 12 1
Wh'l Mary Ann (Mexhe) 8 34 36
I Wh'l Trelawney (Lisk.) 45 129 30 29
FOREIGN MINE*
20 Australian 7l 5 1 1 1
1 Bon AccordCopper,Lim lss I par
35 Brazil. Imp. (is. at £sp ) 275 --
20 Do.St.Johndelßey,Lirn l5 174 18 1191 i
5 Do. Land and MiumgCo all
1 Clarendon Consols Min-
ing Co. of Jamaica
40 Cobra Copper all 47 49 481
Copiapo l6 71 85
1 DunMoun.Cop.Min,g.Co all 2
2 Fortuna,
20 General all 24 26
3 Linares all 101 115 d
5 Lusitanian
1 Mariquita all
1 ,N.RhineCop.of S.Aus.L 105. P
20 Pontgibaud Silver, Lead
Mining and Smelt all 6 7
5 Port Philip 1 4 5
1 Scottish Australn. (L.)... 10e 5 d par
18.2.85 United Mexican

LAW INTELLIGENCE'.-(TRIS DAY.)

COURT OF CHANCERY.
(Before Vice-Chancellor Sir John Stuart.)

ERODE V. SOARY-JUDGMENT-]POTION FOR DECREE.
His Honour the Vice-Chancellor/said—The plaintiffs,
infants, b) their bill, pray for the assistance of the court to
give effect to the representations alleged to have been made
by the late Dr. Anthony Dickson, the maternal grandfather
to their father and mother before their marriage, that the Ed-
rington estate, and 105,000 Sicca rupees would be settled on
them and their children. llis Honour the Vice-Chancellor
referred to the evidence produced, both written and parole,
on both sides, which was extremely contradictory; but, on
a minute and careful consideration of the evidence, his
Honour came to the conclusion that the balance of evidence
was in favour of the plaintiffs, and declared accordingly,
and remitted to his chief clerk to ascertain whether it
would be for the benefit of the plaintiffs to elect to take the

105,000 sicca rupees, or the estate, or the residue. No costs
on either side. His Honour refused to grant an injunc-
tion, but granted liberty to apply,

ROLLS COURT.
(Before the Master of the Rolls.)

UPS V. MASSRY.--IfOTION FOR DECRER.-411DGMENT.
His Honour the Ma.ter of the Rolls said—l have looked
into this case, and am of opinion that the A ord "relations"
in this will means "next of kin ;" and, therefore, I must
make a declaration that the next of kin are entitled to take
the estate of the late Thomas Lee. Coots of all parties to
come out of the estate. His Honour made the usual admi •
nistrativo decree.

POLICE INTELLIGENCE-( THIS DAY.)

MARLI3OROUGH-STMET.

SWINDLING OE A GERMAN DV A NOTORIOUS FOREIGN
CARDSRARPER.—Sacob Mindl, described as a German
courier, but who is said to be a well known canlsharper, and
frequenter of billiard-rooms, was charged with defrauding
David Piepes, a German commercial clerk, out of employ,
of his silver watch of the value of £2.

Mr. Edward Lewis, of Great Marlborough-street, appeared
for the prisoner, Mr. Albert intrepreting the evidence.
From the evidence of the prosecutor who said he resided
at 208, Marylebono-road, he was passing along Oxford-
street on his way home when tho prisoner asked him some-
thing in English which he did not understand. A gentle-
man, who was close to the prisoner, said to me in French,
that the prisoner was .a German. The prisoner then asked
for a street which he did not know, and walked on with him
and just as he was about to leave the prisoner said,
"Will you take something to drink with me ?• and
he went into an hotel with the prisoner and the
other man, who said he was a Swiss. While they were in
the hotel a short man, who said he was a Spaniard, and
had just returned from America, where he had inherited a
large fortune, came in, and after a short time said he pre-
ferred wine to beer, and asked what sort they would take,
he having joined in conversation with them. Prisoner im-
mediately said, "It's usual, and custom requires, that we
should play for our score," and took from his pockot a sort
of cigar-case, which contained a red and a white counter,
the case being so constructed that when a person called
"red," prisoner opened it and showed "white," and vice
versa. The prisoner and the Spaniard and the Swiss then
played, and the Spaniard lost five times, and said, " I owe
you for the opera, the dinner, and some bottles of wine."
Some gentlemen then came in, and prisoner said, "We are
not comfortable here, so we will go to another hotel," which
they did, and the Spaniard then said to the prisoner, " I've
lost several times, it's your turn to guess," and he placed on
the table £2O in notes, and asked prisoner to stake his £2O.
Prisoner said he had not got so much, but would stake his
watch ; and the prisoner and the Swiss then placed their
watches on the table. The Spaniard said they were not
worth £2O; and the prisoner, turning to him, said, "For
God's sake lend me your watch for a minute and help me
out of this difficulty; in a minute I will give it to you back,
and £6, the third part of the £2O I shall win off the
Spaniard ;" and he then gave him his watch and he laid it
with the others. He should have taken the money if the
prisoner had won, but all he wanted was his watch. The
Spaniard then went to work, and on the first occasion the
prisoner was to guess he gave a blow on the table which
upset the counter in the case, and the Spaniard won, and
took up his own £2O and the three watches. He then said,
" Gentlemen, I want my watch—it's not a fair game."
Mr. Lewis—That was your opinion ?
The prosecutor said the prisoner then said he would give
him another chance of winning, and took him with him to
got some money to play the Spaniard again, and as soon as
they got into the street the prisoner said, " What do you
want?" Ho told him ho wanted his watch, and as ho could
not get it he gave him into custody.

Mr. Lewis said it had been held in a similar case that the
watch was only lent, and that the person had his remedy
in the county court.

Mr. Bingham said ho did not think a man who did not
come into court with clean hands had much to complain
of, but he must have the watch restored.
Sergeant Rogers, C division, said he thought if prisoner
was remanded he should be able to show that he was con-
nected with a gang of swindlers.

Mr. Bingham said he should remand tho prisoner, but
would take good bail.

THAMES.

THE SAILOR ON A LEE SlEORE.—William Sloane, a stout
man-of-war's man, who had nothing on his person but a
blue shirt and a pair of canvas trousers, but who was not-
withstanding in a cheerful humour, was brought before Mr.
Yardley, charged with committing a violent assault upon a
man who did not appear against him.

Police-sergeant Stimpson, No. 21 K, said that the pri-
soner was intoxicated last night, got into a row, and ill-used
a man. He ascertained that the prisoner was a deserter from
her Majesty's ship Queen, at Portsmouth, and left her on
Tuesday. Tho prisoner had lost or spent all his money,
and been robbed of his clothes in a house of ill-fame in
Shadwell.

Mr. Yardley said the prisoner could scarcely be considered
a deserter, for his pass ticket extended to the 9th instant.
He directed Stimpson to convey the prisoner to the Croco-
dile receiving ship, off the Tower.

A MEAN AND BRUTAL SCOUNDREL.—James Stutter,
a coalwhipper, aged 35, was brought before Mr. Yardley,
charged with committing a violent assault on Mrs. Sarah
Chandler, landlady of Ship public-house, in Bell-wharf,
Shadwell.

Mrs. Chandler said the prisoner had been in the practice
of frequenting the Ship, making a disturbance, and calling
for beer and liquors which ho had not paid for. On Friday
night he came to the house with others, and called for a
pot of beer, which he carried into the tap-room, drank part
of it, and refused to pay for it. She took away the pot, and
he snatched it from her and threw it at her head. If it had
struck hor it might have killed her, or done her a serious
injury. The prisoner then took up another pot and struck
her on the arm with it. She had been in great pain all
night, and her arm was bruised.
Mr. Yardley said the prisoner was a mean and brutal
scoundrel, and sentenced him to two months' imprisonment
and hard labour.

HOW TO BE HANDSOME.—It is perfectly natural
for all women to be handsome. If they are not so the
fault lies in their birth or in their training, or in both.
We would therefore respectfully remind mothers that in
Poland a period of childhood is recognised. There girls do
not jump from infancy to yowng-ladyhood. They are not
sent from the cradle directly to the drawing-room, to dress,
sit still, and look pretty. During childhood, which ex-
tends through a period of several years, they are plainly
and loosely dressed, and allowed to run, romp, and play in
the open air. They take in sunshine as does the flower.
They are not leaded down, girded about, and oppressed in
every way with countless frills and superabundant flounces,
so as to be admired for their much clothing. Plain, simple
food, free and varied exercise, abundant sunshine, and good
secrets of beauty in after life.
meTnthael esutletauirneedruriAnugatrkaelwahsioalne period of childhood are the
of 2,760 tons register,
with engines of 700-horse power, and formerly the pro-
perty of the European and Australian Company was offered
at Lloyd's on Thursday, but no sale was effected.

------
-
The Toulouse journals announce that Marshal
Niel and his wife had loft for Paris. The Marshal is to
preside over the committee established at the Ministry of
War for the defence of the coasts of France.
An Imperial decree promotes M. Jules Sandau,
member of the French Academy, and librarian at the
241azarine Library, to the functions of deputy-conservator
of the same establishment.

OLD BROWN ON HIS TRIAL.—OId Brown thought
only of freeing as many negroes as he could reach; and he
attempted it in a wild sort of way, from which anybody
whom he had consulted would have augured nothing but
failure and destruction. Destruction to his own life will
apparently bo the result. Ho is sentenced to death • and
will probably become a martyr, idolised by all negroes.' But
a failure his scheme is not. This is partly owing to his hay-
ing applied an unexpected test to the security of a slave-
holding society, under the circumstances of the time; and
more perhaps to the influence of his personal bearing on all
witnesses. At first ho was with difficulty preserved from
death at the hands of the citizens, thosigh he lay on the ground
wounded. By degrees ono citizen after another became inte-
rested in what he said, and inquisitive about what he thought.
In a few hours the great work was done---he had opened a
awiiehfocleitizornToufnietyery class
y,
approached the
old new
m
The governor, honour-
able
senators,eo worlda
yeoman
e w
chief
deference, with gentleness, with over-
whelming interest. They ceased to reproach him, and per-
haps to pity him ; and people out of doors began to think
thorn bewitched. All this was because of the great disco-
very he had been the occasion of their making. What was
this discovery? It was that a robust-minded yeoman, a
God-fearing man, reared in the primitive of course of Bible-
study, who was pure from worldly aims, actually believed
the personal freedom of men of any race a cause worth
livine, and dying for. Under the coerced press, and the
restricted preaching and literature of the slave State, such
a notion had never found entrance to the understanding of
the citizens, who had fancied all abolitionists to be thieves
and cowards. Old Brown's devotedness to his cause, and
his indifference to his own fate, at once fascinated every
generous-minded man who came near him. His new ad-
mirers would have deferred- his trial till ho could obtain
counsel of his own choice, and till he had somewhat re-
covered froinchis wounds—wounds in the head, which at
times impaired his memory; but the frightened community
would hear of no delay, and Old Brown was carried on his
bed into court. My readers have probably seen some
account of the trial, and have registered in their minds his
short speech on receiving his sentence of death. Ais voice
and manner of that speech will no more be forgotten on the
spot than the matter and the words,—Once a Week,

TI,IO2IIAS DR QUINCE Y.

Thomas Do Quincey died at Edinburgh on
Thursday, December 8, at 10 o'clock a.m,, in his
75th year.
In noticing, on the occasion of his departure
from us, the life and character of De Quincey, none
of the doubt and hesitation occur which render the
task generally embarrassing as to what to commu-
nicate to the public and what to suppress. The
" English Opium Eater" has himself told publicly,
throughout a period of between thirty and forty
years, whatever is known about him to anybody ;
and, in sketching the events of his life, the recorder
has little more to do than to indicate facts which
may be found fully expanded in Mr. De Quincey's
" Confessions of an Opium Eater," and " Autobio-
graphic Sketches." The business which he has, in
fact, left for others to do is that which, in spite of
obvious impossibility, he was incessantly endea-
vouring to do himself—that of analysing and form-
ing a representation and judgment of his mind, and
of his life as moulded by his mind. The most in-
tense metaphysician of a time remarkable for the
predominance of metaphysical modes of thought,
he was as completely unaware as smaller men of
his mental habits that in his perpetual self-study
and anlysis he was never approaching the truth,
for the simple reason that he was not even within
ken of the necessary point of view. "I," he says,
" whose disease it was to meditate too much, and tb
observe too little." And the description was a true
one, as far as it went. And the completirm of the de-
scription was one which he could never have himself
arrived at. It must, we think, be concluded of De
Quincey that he was the most remarkable instance
in his time of a more than abnormal, of an
artificial condition of body and mind—a characteri-
sation which he must necessarily be the last man to
conceive of. To understand this, it is necessary to
glance at the events of his life. The briefest notice
will suffice, as they are within the reach of all, as
related in his own books.

Thomas De Quincoy was the son of a merchant
engaged in foreign commerce, and was horn at
Manchester in 1786. He was one of eight children,
of whom no more than six were ever living at once,
and several of whom died in infancy. The survivors
were reared in a country home, the incidents of
which, when of a kind to excite emotion, impressed
themselves on this singular child's memory from a
very early age. We have known only two instances,
in a rather wide experience of life, of persons dis-
tinctly remembering so far back as a year and a half
old. This was De Quincey's age when three deaths
happened in the family, which he remembered, not
by tradition, but by his own contemporary emotions.
A sister of three-and-a-half died ; and he was per-
plexed by her disappearance, and terrified by the
household whisper that she had been ill-used, just
before her death, by a servant. A grandmother died
about the same time, leaving little impression, be-
cause she had been little seen. The other death was
of a beloved kingfisher by a doleful accident, When
the boy was five he lost his playfellow, and, as he
says, intellectual guide—his sister Elizabeth, eight
years old, dying of hydrocephalus, after manifesting
an intellectual power which the forlorn brother re-
called with admiration and wonder for life. The
impression was undoubtedly genuine; but it is im-
possible to read the " Autobiographical Sketch "
in which the death and funeral of the child are
described without perceiving that the writer referred
back to the period he was describing with emotions
and reflex sensations which arose in him, and fell
from the pen at the moment. His father meantime
was residing abroad, year after year, as a condition
of his living at all; and he died of pulmonary con-
sumption fore Thomas was seven years old. The
elder brother, then 12, was obviously too eccentric
for home management, if not for all control; and
looking no further than these constitutional cases,
we are warranted in concluding that the Opium
Eater entered life under peculiar and unfavourable
conditions.

He passed through a succession of schools, and
was distinguished by his eminent knowledge of
Greek. At 15 he was pointed out by his master
(himself a ripe scholar) to a stranger in the remark-
able words, " That boy could harangue an Athenian
mob better than you or I could address an English
one." And it was not only the Greek, we imagine,
but must have been the eloquence too that was in-
cluded in this praise. In this, as in the subtlety
of the analytical power (so strangely mistaken for
entire intellectual supremacy in our day), De
Quincey must have strongly resembled Coleridge.
Both were fine Grecians, charming discoursers,
eminent opium takers, magnificent dreamers and
seem large in their promises, and helpless in their
failure of performance. De Quincey set his heart
upon going to college earlier than his guardians
thought proper; and, on his being disappointed
in this matter, he ran away from his tutor's
house, and was lost for several months—
first in Wales, and afterwards in London. He was
then sixteen. His whole life presents no more re-
markable evidence of his constant absorption in
introspection than the fact that while tortured with
hunger in the streets of London for many weeks, and
sleeping (or rather lying awake with cold and
hunger) on the floor of an empty house, it never
once occurred to him to earn money. As a classical
corrector of the press, and in other ways, he might
no doubt have obtained employment ; but it was not
till afterwards asked why he did not, that the idea
ever entered his mind. How he starved, how he
would have died but for a glass of spiced wine in
the middle of the night on some steps in ,oho-
square, the Opium Eater told all tke world above
thirty years since ; and also, of his e;itering col-
lege ; of the love of wine generated 103 r the comfort
it had yielded in his days of sta,:-vation ; and again,
of the disorder of the functioris of the stomach which
naturally followed, and. resort to opium as a
refuge from the pain, It is to be feared that the
description given in those extraordinary " Confes-
sions" has acted more strongly in tempting young
people to seek the eight years' pleasures he derived
from laudanum than that of his subsequent torments
in deterring them. There was no one to present to
them the consideration that the peculiar organisation
of De Quincey, and his bitter sufferings, might well
make a recourse to opium a different thing to him
and to anybody else. The quality of his min d,and
the exhausted state of his body, enhanced to him the
enjoyments which he called " divine ;" whereas
there is no doubt of the miserable pain by which
men of all constitutions have to expatiate a habitual
indulgence in opium. It may or it may not be that
others mAy, one or all, procure the pleasures he ex-
perienced, but it is certain that every one must
expiate his offence against the laws of the human
frame. And let it be remembered that Do Quincey's
excuse is as singular as his excess. Of the many
who have emulated his enjoyment, there can hardly
have been one whose stomach had been well nigh
destroyed by months of incessant, cruel hunger.
This event of his life—his resort to opium—ab-
sorbed all the rest. There is little more to tell in
the way of incident. His existence was thence-
forth a series of dreams, undergone in different
places—now at college and now in a Westmoreland
cottage with a gentle suffering wife by his side,
striving to minister to a need which was beyond
the reach of nursing. He could amuse Ins predo-
minant faculties by *reading metaphysical philo-
sophy, and analytical reasoning on any subject ;
and by elaborating endless analyses and reasonings
of his own, which he had not energy to embody.
Occasionally the torpor encroached even on his
predominant faculties ; and then he roused himself
to overcome the habit—underwent fearful suffer-

ing in the weaning—began to enjoy the vital hap-
piness of temperance and health; and then—fell
back again. The influence upon the moral energies
of his nature was, as might be supposed, fatal.
Such energy he once had, as his earlier efforts
at endurance amply testify. But as years passed
on he not only became a more helpless victim
to his prominent vice, but manifested an in-
creasing insensibility to the most ordinary requisi-
tions of honour and courtesy, to say nothing of gra-
titude and sincerity. In his hungry days in Lon-
don he would not beg or borrow. Five years later
he wrote to Wordsworth, in admiration and sym-
pathy, received an invitation to his Westmoreland
valley, went, more than once, within a few miles,
and withdrew and returned to Oxford, unable to
conquer his painful shyness—returned at last to
live there, in the very cottage which had been
Wordsworth's ; received for himself, kis wife, and a
growing family of children an unintermitting series
of friendly and neighbourly offices; was necessarily
admitted to much household confidence, and
favoured with substantial aid, which was certainly
not given through any strong liking for his man-
ners, conversation, or character. How did he re-
compense all this exertion and endurance on his
behalf ? In after years, when living (webelieve) at
Edinburgh, and pressed by debt, he did for once
exert himself to write; and what he wrote was an
exposure, in a disadvantageous light, of everything
about the Wordsworths which he knew merely by
their kindness. He wrote papers which were eagerly
read, and of course duly paid for, in which Words-
worth's personal foibles were malignantly exhibited
with ingenious aggravations. The infirmities of one
member of the family, the personal blemish of
another, and the human weaknesses of all, were
displayed; and all for the purpose of deepening the
dislike against Words worth himself, which the
receiver of his money, the eater of his dinners, and
the dreary provoker of his patience, strove to excite.
Moreover, he perpetrated an act of treachery scarcely
paralleled, we hope, in the history of literature. In
the confidence of their most familiar days Words-
worth had communicated portions of his posthu-
mous poems to his guest, who was perfectly well
aware that the work was to rest in darkness and
silence till after the poet's death. In these magazine
articles De Quincey—using for this atrocious pur-

pose his fine gift of memory—published a passage
which he informed us was of far higher merit than
anything else we had to expect. And what was
Wordsworth's conduct under this unequaled experi-
ence of bad faith and bad feeling ? While so many
anecdotes were going of the poet'g fireside, the
following ought to be added. An old friend was
talking with him by that fireside, and mentioned
De Quincey's magazine articles. Wordsworth
begged to be spared any account of them, saying that
the man had long passed away from the family life
and mind; and he did not wish to ruffle himself
in a useless way about a misbehaviour which could
not be remedied. The friend acquiesced, saying
" Well, I will tell you only one thing that he says,
and then we will talk of other things. He says your
wife is too good for you." The old poet's dim eyes
lighted up instantly, and he started from his seat,
and flung himself against the mantelpiece, with his
back to the fire, as be cried with loud enthusiasm--
" And that's true ! There he is right ! " and his
disgust and contempt for the traitor were visibly
moderated.

During a long course of . years De Quincey went
on dreaming always—sometimes scheming works of
high value and great efficacy which were never to
exist ; proinhing largely to booksellers and others,
and failing through a weakness so deep-seated that
it should have prevented his making any promises.
When his three daughters were grown up, and his
wife was dead, he lived in a pleasant cottage at
Lasswade, Rear Edinburgh—well known by name
to those who have never seen its beauties, as the
scene of Scott's early married life and first
great achievements in literature. There, while the
family fortunes were expressly made contingent on
his abstinence from his drug, De Quincey did ab-
stain, or observe moderation. His flo‘F. of conver-
sation was then the delight of old acquaintance and
admiring strangers, who came to hear the charmer,
and to receive the impression, -which could never be
lost, of the singular figure and countenance and the
finely modulated voice, which were like nothing else
in the world. It was a strange think to look upon
that fragile form, and features which might be
those of a dying man, and to hear such utterances
as his ; now the strangest comments on insignifi-
cant incidents ; now pregnant remarks on great
subjects; and then, malignant gossip, virulent and
base, but delivered with an air and a voice of phi-
losophical calmness and intellectual commentary
such as caused the disgust of the listener to be
largely qualified with amusement and surprise.
One good thing was, that nobody's name and fame
could be really injured by anything Do Quincey
could say. There was such a grotesque air about
the mode of his evil-speaking, and it was so gra-
tuituous and excessive, that the hearer could not
help regarding it as a singular sort of intellectual
exercise, or an effort in the speaker to observe, for
once, something outside of himself, rather than as
any token of actual feeling towards the ostensible
object.
Let this strange commentator on individual cha-
racter meet with more mercy and a wiser interpre-
tation than he was himself capable of. lie was not
made like other men ; and he did not live, think,'or
feel like them. A singular organisation was singu-
larly and fatally deranged in its 'action before it
could show its best quality. Marvellous analytical
faculty he had ; but it all oozed out ,in barren words.
Charming eloquence he had ; but it degenerated
into egotistical garrulity, rendered tempting by the
gilding of his genius. It is questionable :whether,
if he had never touched opium or wine, his real
achievements would have been substantial—for he
had no conception of a veritable stand-point of phi-
losophical investigation ; but the actual effect of his
intemperance was to aggravate to excess his intro-
spective tendencies, and to remove him incessantly
further from the needful discipline of true science.
His conditions of body and mind were abnormal,
and his study of the one thing he knew anything
about—the human mind—was radically imperfect.
His powers, Roble and charming as they might
have been, were at once wasted and weakened
through their own partial excess. His moral nature
relaxed and sank, as must always be the case where
sensibility is stimulated and action paralysed ; and
the man of genius who, 40 years before, admini-
stered a moral warning to all England, and com-
manded the sympathy and admiration of a nation,
has lived on to achieve nothing but the delivery of
some confidences of questionable value and beauty,
andto command from us nothing more than a com-
passionate sorrow that an intellect so subtle and
an eloquence so charming in its pathos, its humour,
its insight, and its music, should have left the world
in no way the better for such gifts—unless by the
warning afforded in " Confessions" first, and then
by example, against the curse which neutralised
their influence and corrupted its source.—Daily
News.

71118 DAY'S MARKETS.

COVENT-GARDEN.

Our market is seasonably well supplied with produce,
and the trade on the whole may be considered steady, as
follows :

FRUIT.,

N. d. d.
Pine apples, perlb 4 0 to 7 0
Colonial do., each 0 0 to 0 0
Grapes,per lb 3 0 to 6 0
Foreign do 1 0 to 1 6
Melons, each
Veaches,per doz 0 0 to 0 0
Nectarines, per dz 0 0 to 0 01
Apples, per sv. 2 0 to 5 0
Pears, per do 3 0 to 8 0
Oranges, per 100 5 0 to 10 0
Lemons, per 100 4 0 to 8 0
Apricots. per doz 0 0 to 0 0

s. d. e. d
Cherries, per lb 0 oto 0 0
Filberts, per lb 1 oto 1 6
Cobnuts, per lb 0 oto 0 0
Almonds, per bus 0 oto 0 0
Walnuts, per 100 1 oto 2 0
Figs, per doa 2 6to :1 0
Strawberries p ptl 0 oto 0 0
Gooseberries hi' sv 0 oto 0 0
Currants, per do. 0 oto 0 0
Plums, per do.
G reenages, pr do. 0 oto 0 0
Raspberries, pr ptlo oto 0 .0
kBLES.

BEGET!
Greens, dz bunch 3 6 to 4 0
Cabbages, pr doz. 0 9 to 1 0
Savoy do., pr do. 0 10 to 1 3
Cauliflowers, p dz 1 0 to 3 0
Brocoli, per bli. 0 10 to 1 3
Oldpotatoes,p ton 80 to 120 0
New ditto, per ton 0 0 to 0 0
Peas, per sieve 0 0 to 0 0
Turnips, dz bunch 1 6 to 2 6
Carrots, pr do 4 6 to 5 6
Cucumbers 4 0 to 6 0
Garlic, per lb
Sorrel, per sieve 0 0 to 0 0
Spinazli, hr. -sy 0 10 to 1 0
Brus. sprouts, h.s. 1 6 to 2 0
Old onions, dz bun 0 0 to 0 0
New do., hf. sv 1 3 to 1 6
French beans, h s. 2 0 to 2 6
Leeks, per bunch 0 2 to 0 3

Shallots, per lb .. 0 6to 0 8
Horseradish, pbn 1 oto 2 0
Parsley, per ditto 0 2to 0 4
Celery, per ditto 0 Bto 1 6
Beet, per doz. .. 1 6to 2 0
Parsnips, per do. 0 oto 0 0
Small salad, p. pu, 0 oto 6 0
Mushrooms,p pun 1 3to 1 9
Artichokes, pr dz' 2 oto 3 0
I Cabbage lett,score 0 oto 0 0
Endive, per score 0 9to 1 3
Radishes, dz buds 0 oto 0 0
Tomatoes, hf eve 2 6to :3 6
Waluittig, per 100 0 oto 0 0
Chillies, per ditto 0 oto 0 0
Capsicums, per do 0 oto 0 0
Rhubarb, per bun 0 oto 0 0
Asparagus, pr do. 4 oto 6 0
Seakale, per pun. 3 0 to 4 •

NEWGATE AND LEADENHALL.

Turkeys, 4s Od to lOs Od ; poults, Os Od to Os Od each ;
geese, 4s Od to 7s Od ; goslings, Os Od to Os Od ; ducklings,
2s Od to 3s Od ; rabbits, is 0(1 to is 6d each ; wild do., ?d
to is 2d ; pigeons, Gd to Os 10d each; large Surrey fowls,
5s Od to 10s Od; chickens, 3s Gd to 7s Od; born-door fowls,
3s Od to 5s Od ; capons, Os Od ; hares, 2s Od to 2s 9d ;
grouse, 2s Od to 2s 6d each ; pheasants, 2s 3d to 2s 9tl ;
ptarmigan, Os toOs Od ; woodcocks, 2s Od to 3s Od; snipes, is
Od to is 3d ; teal, Os Gd to is Od ; wild ducks, 2s Od to 2s 3d;
widgeons, is Od to is 6d ; plovers, Os Gd to is Od each ;
guinea fowls, Os Od to Os Od ; roasting pigs, 4s Od to 7s Od
each; Ostend fresh butter, Os lid to is Id ; English, is 2d
to is 5d per lb; English eggs, 13s Od to 14s Od ; French do.,
lls Od to 12e Od per 120; leverets, is 9d to 2s Gd each.

NEWPORT.
Beef, from 2s Gd to 4s 4d ; mutton, 2s 10d to 4s 4d ;
lamb, 05 Od to Os Od ; veal, 3s 6d to 4s 4d; and pork, 35
4d to 4s 10d per 81bs.