The Sun.
London, England, 1828-08-22 00:00:00

EXPORTS or COTTON, CALICOES, AND TWIST.

FOR THE WEEK ENDING AUGUST 12.
Cottons. I Twist. I Calicoes.
373,571 yards. I 1,117,479 lbs. I 611,539 yards.

The lace manufacture is goilig on prosperously
in Chard, which now employs 1;700 hands. Two new
engines have been just erected at Combe St. Nicholas,
about a mile and a half from the above place.—Taunton
Courier.

A plan is in progress which promises to be at-
tended with important advantages to the trade of this port.
The project to which we allude, is that of employing a set
of Fteam tugs in towing small craft between this place and
Selby, and by this means of competing more effectually with
Goole, where a similar practice has been already adopted,
for towing vessels of 100 or 150 tons burthen through the
ilange:ous shoals that intervene before reaching that place.
It is stated that 6,0001., in shares of 1001. each, is intended
to be raised for the purpose in question. The Dock Com-
pany, it is asserted, have given the subject due considera-
tion, and have subscribed towards its accomplishment to
the amount of ten shares. The Corporations of the
town and of the Trinity-house, it is expected, will also
afford their patronage to the undertaking.—Hull Packet.
CURIOUS CIRCUNISTANCE,—About a fort-
night ago, part of the cliff at Owthorne, once the site of
the Sister Churches, fell into the sea, by which circum-
.tance a leaden coffin was discovered. containing the re-
mains of a clergyman, interred there upwards of 120 years
ago. The unfortunate deceased had been murdered and
thrown into a well, where he was found four years after-
wards. The present Incumb.nt has a document to testify
the truth of the above.— York Courant.

Though a convict is justly heid es oiOile:;s by
the society from which he has been expelled, it 13
presumed that the following letter from Thomas
Howarth, and the particulars attached to it may be
of use, otherWLe thaii„by,,merelyawakening the
sympathy of the public for On.:l;Aose sorrow found
no vent but through her heart.
" His Majesty's Ship York, Dee. 30, 1527.
" Dear Brother—With feelings of the most
poignant sorrow I now take my pen to answer the
letter which brought to me the melancholy news of
the death of my attliable and virtuous wife; but I
hope since it has pleased the Alntighty to tabs her
from the troubles of this world; thit fief spirit his
ascended to the mansions of everlasting b'liss. I
know that her troubles have been of the most acute
description. lam also sensible of the author of all
her troubles. I have been an incOnSiderate young
man, blind to all my failings, till I am MVSelf de-
luged in trouble. I am now plunged into the deepabyss of misfortune. Oh, adversity, how unsparing
is thy chastisement ! The bright eye, beaming with
sanguine expectation, is often dimmed with many
tears, and the smile of anticipating hope is driven
from the lip by the gloom of despondency, How
little do many of us appreciate the qualities of a virz
tuous wife ! How heedless are we of her anxieties
and kindnesses while she is living, but when dead
and gone, when the cares and coldness of the world
come withering to our hearts, whea we find
how hard it is to find true sympathy, how few
love us for ourselves, how few will befriend
us in our misfortunes, then it is we think of the wife
we have lost ; and thus it is with me at this mo-
ment ! I hope and trust that my peer little orphans
will find an asylum under the roof of their relatives
who are left behind. May they, poor little innocents,
find a father and mother to train them up in the
way they should go; and may the fate of their in-
considerate father warn them from the path of vice!
My dear brother, it is impossible for me to give you
even a faint idea of the anguish of my soul at this
heart-rending moment ; the loss of my dear wife
has blasted all my anticipations, and has left me a
prey to the most bitter reflection, and makes me,
like Job, to curse my day, and to pray for death.'

if ever it lays in my power to do any thing for the
dear children, I will. They will be ever nearest and
dearest to my heart. It is uncertain how long I may
remain here, but if anything happens to any of them,
I hope you will let me know, and if I should be
sent to perpetual exile, may God Almighty watch
over them, and protect them through life, is the
prayer of their unfortunate father ! * *
Please to return my sincere thanks to those frinds
who have taken my dear little orphans under their
protection, and may they meet their reward in
Heaven ! And now I must close this painful task,
and remain, with sincere prayers for you and your
family, your ever affectionate brother,
" THOMAS HOWARTH."
Howarth was a good-looking young man, about
twenty-four years of age; his wife twenty-six, the
daughter of reputable parents, who kept a bread-
shop at Bury, near Manchester. She bore him three
children, the youngest of which was at the breast
when its mother died; the oldest was then little
more than three years of age. At the Lancaster
Assizes, in March, 1517, Howarth was transported
for life for stealing a_ cow from a farmer in Heap.
He drove the beast towards Manchester, and on the
way called at a butcher's shop, and borrowed a
knife, which be inhumanly plunged into the
bowels of the animal, and afterwards, represent-
ing her to have been gored, sold her at a low
price. For the cruelty exhibited in this trans-
action, the Judge was very near passing sentence of
death upon him; but that mercy which he had so
flagrantly outraged was extended to him ; his life
was spared, and he was sent to the hulks. Shortly
after, the writer of this was at Bury, and, whilst
taking refreshment at an inn, was accosted by a ma- '
tronly old woman, with a freedom which prevails
amongst the old folks in Lancashire, and which
seems to take it for granted that you know every
person and every circumstance they know. Well,
said she, yon' poor woman is dead, an' out of her
trouble I hope. What poor woman ? Why, Tom
Howarth's wife : he that was transported for that
cow; did you never hear of it ?—Oh yes, I heard
of the circumstance; and is his wife dead then ?
Yes, she died last night. What was her disorder?
—She ailed nothin' but a broken heart. Poor wo-
man ! and where is she now lying ?—She is at her
father's; they took her home, an' she died there.
It is not common for women to die of a broken
heart; what sort of a woman was she ?—Why, Sir,
she was as bonny a woman as ever sun shone upon,
and had three as sweet little babes as ever were born ;
but you see, after he was taken up, she pined an'
moaned by herself, her former friends an' acquaint-
ances looked cold upon her, an' she was almost left
alone. Then she gave up the house they had lived at,
an' came an' took a little place at the back here.
She was terribly distressed, an' at last compelled to
apply to the Overseer of Heap for relief. He was
the uncle of her husband, an' every time she went
he abused and reproached her with being the cause
of Howarth's misconduct. An' many a time she
had to go in the cold an' the rain, an' when the
melted snow ran through her shoes, and stand
starvin' and weepin' th' fold when she got there,
an' had to come back without a penny or a crumb
of bread to bless her or her children. An' you see,
she had been well brought up, an' had been respected
an' creditable, an' all these troubles fell upon her, an'
cruElied her to the earth. But she kept them to
herself—she only said " she was very ill at her
heart." At length she took to her bed, an' last
week word was brought that her husband would
pass through Manchester on a certain day, but she
could not go k she could not rise or hold up her head,
though she said, if she could see him once more, she
should be well. But it could not be—and besides,
he desired not to see her, or any of bis relations; and
so she kept sinking away till last night, when she died.
The writer expressed his regret at the fatal ter-
mination, and inquired if it would be possible to ob-
tain a sight of the corpse. His informant said she
would inquire, and shortly returned with permission.
He accordingly accompanied her, and was taken to
a neighbouring house, and into a neat little chamber,
where the body was laid on a bed wrapped in a
winding-sheet. There was something extremely
interesting in the contemplation of one who was
said to have died of a broken heart, and the writer
does not exaggerate when he says, that, though cold
and motionless, she was as lovely an object as he had
ever beheld. She was as pale as alabaster, and the
white froth that lay upon her lips was scarcely whiter
than her skin. Her bosom was partly bare, it seemed
swollen, as if her heart was rising beneath to burst
its tenement. Her hair was entirely black, and lay
in beautiful tresses, like mourning love-knots, on her
marble forehead : her eyes were closed, and her eye-
lids, with their long dark lashes, were eternally at
rest, and the tears were wiped for ever away !
Thus the strong arm of justice, in removing the
guilty, tore the innocent up by the roots and left them
to perish. His mother also, and her mother have
sincejoined her in the grave—their death being,
without doubt, accelerated, if not entirely caused, by
the wretched fate of their two children.

In a town of Belgium is to be seen a sign with
the following announcement:—" Mons. ARDHEIM teaches
reading, religion, and how to make pens l"

After commenting on these, and some other parts
of the publication, as highly libellous, the Learned
Counsel dwelt particularly on a letter, addressed by
the defendant to cue of the Magistrates, Mr. Fripp,
which, in substance, was to the effect that Mr. Frirp
was tyrannical, presumptuous, and overbearing. He
(Mr. Sergeant Wilde) knew not what epithets were
calculated to degrade and vilify a man if these were
not. He could form no idea of what the defence
was to be, but he was quite certain it could never
he of such a nature as to entitle the person making
it to the verdict of the Jury. After some further
observations, the Learned Sergeant called witnesses
to prove the connection of the defendant with the
libels.

The defendant then proceeded to address the
Jury. The Gentlemen of the Jury might imagine
the nature of his feelings in now defending himself,
prosecuted by the most wealthy corporation in the
United Kingdom, backed by all the talent and legal
acumen which boundless resources enabled them to
procure. He found, too, that some of the parties
to the prosecution sat as Judges on the Bench.

Mr. Justice PARK said that the defendant had
better abstain from observations of this kind, as they
could only tend to aggravate punishment in the
event of conviction. He wished it to be distinctly
understood, however, that, as the Mayor of Bristol
had left the Court, he (Mr. Justice Park) was the
only person on that Bench who was competent to
discharge the duties of a Magistrate on the present
occasion.

Defendant—He was disposed to treat with the
greatest respect every intimation that came from the
Learned Judge, but he must say at the same time
that some of the parties to the prosecution had the
appearance of sitting before him as his judges. They
commenced the prosecution in the present form after
he had left Bristol, and published a notice to that
effect in the shape of a placard. Under these cir-
cumstances they instructed Sir James Scarlctt to
move for a criminal information against him. His
prosecutors were thus enabled to bring forward all
that they could prove, and he was debarred from
bringing forward all that he could prove. Th`ey
wished to read the people of Bristol a moral lesson, '
which should prevent any of them from doing an
act of the same independence as that which he had
done. He felt it due to his political consistency to
come and meet this charge in his own person. He
felt it also due to his friends and the people of
Bristol to do so, in order to shew them that, if he
could not avoid a prosecution, he still knew how to
meet it as a man. A common Jury would satisfy
him very well; but then a common Jury possessed
common sense—a quality which was by no means a
recommendation with his prosecutors. They pre-
ferred a special Jury, whose especial qualification
was the length of their purse. He was far, how-
ever, from saying that the members of the Jury
were to be blamed on account of their wealth, but
the prosecutors were to be blamed for bringing the
rich to decide upon a question against him who was
poor. He also had to blame them, and their agents
in London, for the manner in which they acted to-
wards him when he wished to change the venue. They
promised to change it at their own expense; and
when he afterwards applied to them on the subject,
their answer was, "Mr. Acland must be content with
Bristol, or change it to Gloucester or Somersetshire."
The information stated that these were false, scan-
dalous, and malicious libels. What ! false, when
he was deprived of the means of proving the truth
of all he had stated ? Wicked ! was he to be paid
off by them in his own coin ? Were they to call
him wicked because he had called then, co ? Ma-
licious ! From what was the malice to be inferred ;
was it from his having spoken of public men in their
public capacity ? But, if his prosecutors possessed
hearts so completely free from malice as his was, the,'
would not be so ready in charging him with malig-
nity. "On my soul," said the defendant, with.ne
much warmth, " I never in my life wrote
under the influence of malice—l never felt
in-
fluence." He admitted that he felt indignant at
seeing a poor sailor convicted on perjured evidence;
iLts line
the view he then took of the case turned out to
be correct, for the individual was liberated on a re-
presentation of all the facts being made
on,to the Lords
of the Council. In conclusion, be said he should
leave his case to the sense which the jury, as a
body of Englishmen, entertained of British justice.
Mr. Justice nom, in his charge to the jury, ad-
verted to the circumstance of its having been stated
that he was a guest of the Corporation. His being
so he did not by any means consider a personal
favour to himself, for he looked upon it as a matter
of right. HiS Lordship then mentioned an instance,