The Sun.
London, England, 1845-12-15 00:00:00

/7 ~------2
__le-- ---- ''.."/A-f_.,__,--,-,7-,-----
..,
-,, ____l
/1"----' (--7P-4-------,or z.----e_e•:, ;

to pass.
Another event, .which may turn out to be of much
greater importance still, I have now to mention to you.
Three railroad Companies—one in England, one in
Belgium, and one is Sardinia—have made proposals to
the Ottoman Government to undertake, on their own
risk and responsibility, lines of railroad in Turkey, on
the condition, of course, of possessing a secure right of
property in the enterprise—a right of a sort which no
European has ever yet been suffered to hold in this
empire. The Porte, lam informed, is now entertaining
these proposals with a very good will to close at least
with one of them ; and as Reschid Pacha will now be
at the head of affairs here, one may feel pretty sure that
Turkish bigotry against European innovations and
improvements will net. be allowed to hinder the fair con-
sideration of a projrct which looks so full of promise of
progress for the country. It is certainly too soon to an-
ticipate the consequences of suck a project, yet so preg-
nant with mighty consequences must it be, should it ever
be realised, that it is difficult not to look forward to
them. One word only, however, I will say thereupon;
viz., that frequency of communication and intercourse
between different parts of this -empire, or between any
two of its distant and important sites, seems the only
possible means of rousing its inhabitants into a sense
of their being not scattered like communities, or rather
mere groups of individuals—but a people; and that as
the people, or popular liberties in other countries have
produced all the great mechanical inventions of the
present age in the west, so the introduction of the
greatest of these inventions into the east would in its
turn produce a people—would, if anything could, give a
public life and will, a consciousness of aggregate
national existence to numerous populations which at
present exist in utter disconnexion, simply as loose
crowds, inhabiting the same place. Au reste, not to
dwell on a view which may seem to you unfit for a
letter, all are agreed that the first want of this empire
is the want of roads. Instead of roads, then, to give
railroads would be making a giant stride in advance.
And as to the practicability of the thing, I have the
opinion of a very accomplished Turk, bolding an
important office under the Government of the Porte,
and of several Europeans who have long been
inhabitants of this country, that the enterprise would
offer every probability of success. Three lines
of road have even already been spoken of—one from this
capital to Adrianople, another to Smyrna, and a third to
Varna. I will sp'eik only of the advantages which the
Adrianople line would present. That city has very ex-
tensive commercial relations with Constantinople, and
yet the communication between these two first cities of
the Ottoman empire is a most fatiguing. tedious, and ex-
pensive one. By land it requires four or five days' tra-
velling on horseback on bad roads (the distance is 150
miles, and by water there are in every season difficulties
of another kind. The port of Enos is nearly blocked up
with the accumulated deposits of the River Maritza, and
is therefore a very unsafe harbour, and the river itself,
full of rocks, in winter has its banks generally over-
flooded, and in summer has often so scanty a stream in
its channels, that large boats cannot sail up to Adrian-
ople. A railroads consequently, on this line would offer
the best prospects of SUCCe3S. lam assured by those
whose opinion is of weight, that the speculation could
not fail to be a very profitable one. The English
proposal on this subject to the Porte has
come from two substantial mercantile houses of
Liverpool. I hope it will meet no impediment from the
question of property, the very considerable property its
a3option would give to foreigners on the Ottoman territory.
If this qnestion does not interpose a hindering obstruc-
tion, one will have to rejoice that the rage for railways
has taken this eastern direction, for whilst lucre by the
establishment of railroad lines in this country would
primely be sought, this appetite for gainful enterprise
would furnish, at the same time, the most powerful
means of giving a civilising impulse to the whole east,
whereby the work otherwise of centuries may haply be
accomplished in a single generation.
I told you in my last letter that the disarming of the
Lebanon had been completed, and with respect to the
Lebanon, strictly speaking, this information was correct.
But I learn that numerous bands of Druses and Maro-
nites have taken refuge in the Hauran, a mountain close
upon the Lebanon, inhabited by the tribe of the Metualis,
which spot, from its strong natural defences, it will be
extremely difficult to disarm. The disarming of it by
Ibrahim Pacha was made at a very great sacrifice of
men, and it is said by many that unless the inhabitants
can be induced to surrender their arms on terms, the
military force under Namik Pacha must be increased in
order to effect that purpose.
M. de Bourquenay has addressed a note of an apolo-
getic character to the Porte, on the subject of the me-
nace made by the Belle Poule to violate the Ottoman
territory to rescue the French dragoman who had been
arrested and put in prison, as I wrote to you in a former
letter, by the Turkish authorities. It appears that the
boat's crew of the French steamer did not on that occa-
sion land ; but their commander threatened only to do
so, if the demand of the French Consul were not com-
plied with. It is to apologise for this threat that the
French Ambassador has addressed the note I speak of
to the Porte. His tone is much changed since his late
explosions. Bat- no doubt in this instance he has acted
with the dignity befitting the representative of a great
nation in apologising for a gross insult offered to the Ot-
toman Government by the malapert hot-headed violence
of the French Consul at Beyrout.
A dispatch from Reschid Pacha has been received by
the Porte, in which the ex-ambassador from this country
to France declares he shall with all possible expedition
take his departure from Paris. He is expected here
on the 14th of next month, but may possibly arrive on
the 4th.
I have just learnt that the Porte has issued circulars
prohibiting the exportation of corn from Roumelia, after
the expiration of a month, on the pretext of the great
s -amity. that exists throughout the empire, but especially
in Syria. But this subject is too important to bmentie treatned
ed
of at the close of a letter; therefore, having o
the fact, I will say no more.—Chronicle Corespondent.

DOCK-TARD.-.—lt is likely that the present system
of mustering the workmen in the dockytuds will be done
e
away with, and the old plan of " recalling" resumed.
Lords of the Admiralty some time since ordered the authori-
ties at the dock-yards to report upon the system ; and we
understand that the reports invariably condemn it as au in-
efficient check and a waste of time. Twenty-five boys are to
be entered in this dockyard as apprentices to shipwrights.—
Devonport Indiftnient•

~,

OCCASIONAL SKETCHES—HERE
AND THERE.
No. IV.
WHITEFIELD'S BONES!
" Whitefield's bones! and what of them? They have
long since been mingled with kindred dust—' massed
into the common clay.' Seventy-fire years have sunk
into the grave of ages since the Prince of Preachers
was laid down in the narrow bed, from which he never
rose but in the spirit. Only the memory of Whitefield
survives—his immortal part is now wearing its crown,
and with the Elders he is waving his palm; but of, the
tabernacle' in which he tarried on earth for a season,
no trace can remain. It was committed to dast
' long, long ago,' and nothing but the blast of the
archangel's trump shall collect the scattered atoms, and
bid the dry bones live.
Such may be, perchance, the exclamation of the reader,
on glancing at the heading of this sketch; but let me
crave his patience whilst I relate, as simply as may be,
the particulars of a xilgrimage which, scarcely more
than two months ago, I made to Whitefield's bones, for,
to the everlasting disgrace of those who might prevent it,
they are exposed to the public view " a marvel and a
show."
I was spending a Sunday at Old Ipswich, in the latter
part of last September, when, by accident, I fell in with
an old inhabitant of the town who had heard Whitefield
preach there. He was a sort of patriarch of the place,
and as he sat on one of the stones which surrounded the
ancient orthodox meeting-house, his grey locks stream-
ing from beneath his queerly- shaped hat, and attired in
his primly-cut old-fashioned coat, he appearel no bad
representative of the departed Puritans who, in former
days, had soberly and decently obeyed the call of the
Sabbath bell, and worshipped in the same temple whose
steeple now cast its shadow athwart the green sward
beneath.
A Sabbath in a New England village is quite a-primi-
tive affair. The old-fashioned folk commence it on the
Saturday evening, but the custom is confined to, and
will probably die out with them. Where it is observed
in all its strictness, every occupation ceases about six
o'clock. All loud and boisterous talk is hushed, and the
old clock in the corner ticks audibly, whilst the family
circle, consisting as well of the domestics as of the
members of the family, gather round the wood fire, and
listen to the head of the house read and expound the
Scriptures.
As the bell of Old Ipswich church swung out that
bright Sabbath morning, it was a pretty sight to see the
village people coming from different points to the decay-
ing old church, which was situated, as most country
churches in New England are, on a hill top. Whilst I
was enjoying the scene, the old man to whom I have
alluded, and who was sitting on a stone, accosted me,
and asked if I was not a stranger in " those parts?"
On my informing him that I was, he became very
loquacious, and pointed out to me the various " lions "
of the neighlnurhood, which consisted of such places
as " Heartbreak-hill," " Lovers'-lane," and other affec
tionately-named localities, and wound up by observing,
"I suppose, Sir, you've a-heard of Whitefield?" Of
Whitefield! to be sure I had; and then it occurred to
me that the celebrated preacher had often visited Ame-
rica, and recollections of a fine old mezzotint portrait of
him, which used to hang over the family mantel-piece
when I was a boy, became vivid, and my curiosity was
thoroughly excited as the old gentleman said, when I
nodded my head in reply to his query, " Well, I've
a-seen Whitefield ; George Whitefield stood on this
very stone," and he dropped his stick feebly from his
shakino. hands, "and I heard him preach here. '
" And do you remember anything about him?" I asked.
" Well, I guess, I do. I was but a bit of a boy then,
but here he stood on this stone, looking like a flying
angel, and we do call this Whitefield's pulpit to this day.
That other stone, further on, is the one on which they
tell the devil lighted when he jumped over the church.
The mark of his toes is to be seen now; but that's non-
sense, and neither here nor there."
" He'd a-preached in Boston, on the common," con-
tinued the old man, "in the morning, and came over
here to give a sermon in the afternoon, and he went
from here to Newburyport in the evening. There was
folk here from all parts to hear'n; so he was obligated
to speak outside, for the church warn't half big enough
for 'em, and no twos ways about it. I've a-hearn many
pa-arsons sin' that time, but none on 'em could come
nigh he, anyhow they could fix it."
"Do you remember anything of his sermon ?" I
inquired.
" Oh ! I was too young to notice aright, Sir, but the
preacher himself and the crowds of people, but I know
he had a very sweet voice, and, as I said when he
spread his arms out, with his little Bible in his hand, he
looked for all the world like a flying angel. There
never were so many people afore or since in old Ipswich.
I suppose, Sir, you'll be goin' to see his bones ?"
" His bones—whose bones ?" I asked, in some asto-
nishment.
" Why, Mr. Whitefield's. He was buried at New.
buryport, and you can see 'em if you like. The sexton
shows 'em, but only strangers go to see 'em, I here."
I made up my mind that I would see them too, if pos-
sible; but I regarded the affair as an old man's story,
until I learned from other quarters that what he had
stated was true.
I attended service in the church, which is one of the
oldest in America, and was, therefore, more interesting
than a modern erection would have been. There was the
old pulpit, with elaborate carvings about it, and of a
forty-parson power size. It was surmounted by an
enormous sounding board, which was decorated by a
gilded star. There had been a similar gorgeous decora-
tion in front of the pulpit, but it had been considered too
gay by a rigid deacon, who scraped off, with his own
pious hands, the gold leaf. The pews were very capa-
cious, and square, old-fashioned high-backed chairs be-
ing used as seats. In a very high and deep gallery was
an ample spacosfor the choir, which was an exceedingly
good one ; and en peasant, I would observe that the
Americans are far beyond us so far as hymn singing is
concerned, and it would not be amiss if some of the dole-
ful tunesters in our churches and chapels would imitate
our transatlantic brethren in this respect. After listen-
ing to the delightful congregational singing its New
England, the monotonous, melancholy music of our me-
tropolitan dissenting choirs, seemed to me dismal in the
extreme. But to my more immediate subject.
On the following day, I went over to Newburyport
by railroad, and having previously ascertained the inte-
resting spats, I proceeded first to the house in which
Whitefield died. It stands in School-street, and was at
one time the residence of the Rev. Jonathan Parsons,
the first regular pastor of the Presbyterian Society in
the town. It is a plain, unpretending structure, consist-
ing of two floors, and possessing no other claims to at-
tention than its being near the spot where the last scene
of Whitefield's career was enacted. I knocked at the
door, and asked of a servant girl who answered my sum-
mons, if I might be allowed to see the room in which
Mr. Whitefield died, taking it for granted that so memo-
rable an occurrence must have been familiar to her mind.
She looked me in the face for some time, and then
replied that no one of that name lived there ; and finding
I could make nothing of her, I was turning away, when
a lady came forward from a side room, and on learning
my business, and receiving my apologies for the intru-
sion, very courteously showed me up a flight of stairs
into a chamber which she said Mr. Whitefield used to
sleep in.
I surveyed the room with some interest ; but the cha-
racter of it must have been greatly altered since White-
field's time, for there was a very pretty French bed, and
smart window curtains, and portraits of George Wash-
ington and General Jackson, and a whole army of Pre-
sidents, and a view of Bunker-hill Monument, and similar
matters, but nothing whatever to remind me of White-
field.
" Here is the place he died in," said the lady ; and
she showed me a little entry just outside the door of the
bed-chamber, directly over the entrance to the house.
A window in this recess commanded a view of the road
in front of the dwelling.
" He lay, the night before he died," said the lady,
"in that bedchamber, and when he was took for death
he ran out to this entry-window for breath, and died
whilst sitting in a chair opposite it."
A host of thoughts crowded to my mind as I stood on
the spot where the great man gasped, and gasped for
air, and then breathed out his life. So simply and so
graphically is the last scene of all described by his ser-
vant, Richard Smith, who attended him from England to
America the last time he ever crossed the Atlantic, that
I cannot forbear quoting here from his narrative. There
is no flourish or parade about it ; its interest lies in the
little facts which it records, and which, in connexion
Kith Whitefield, are of such deep interest. The ac-
count," it has been said, " has all the constituents of a
completed drama;" and what could close it more graphi-
cally than that single, simple fact, of " the people who
went weeping through the streets to their respective places
of abode ?"
"On the morning of his death, at a quarter-past four, he
waked, and said, 'My asthma, my asthma is coming on; I
wish I bad not given out word to preach at Ilaverhill,ioiti
Monday ; I don't think I shall be able; but I shall see w:a
to-day will bring forth. If lam no better to-morrow,
take two or three days' ride!' He then desired me
to
warm
him a little gruel; and, in breaking
Mr. Parsons, who, thinking I knocked for him, rosei
hint,
bow
the fire. wood,onl
and came
caakoelde
in. lie went to Whitetield's bed•side, and aske,
(locate
he felt himself. He answered, am almost sp ocatc(
quick, and
then not a little surprised, to hear !now
1
can scarce breathe, my asthma chokes me. I Was
with what difficulty, he drew his
.breath. He got
out of bed, and went to open the window for air, This was
exactly five o'clock. I went to him, and for about live
minutes saw no danger, only that he had a great difficulty in
breathing, as I had often seen before. Soon after he turned
to me, and said, am dying.' I said, ' I hope not, Sir.' He
ran to the other window, panting for breath, but could get
no relief. It was agreed that I should go back for Dr.
sawyer; and on my coining back, I saw death on his face;
d himhe drew
some
and he again said, I ant His eyes were fixed, hi-
went
tuonst‘l,aerds
rli it)hderlav'iNi-litiloii\ivs,vaarndd timeewveeroyffebwreaartmh lake-
some lavender drops, which he refused
• I persuaded him to
sit down in a chair, and have his cloak on • he consented
by a
sign, but could not speak. I then offered I tim the glass of
warm wine; he took half of it, but it seemed as if it would
have stopped his breath entirely. In a little time he brought
up a considerable quantity of phlegm and wind. I then
began to have some small hopes. Mr. Parsons said, he
thought Whitefield breathed more freely than he did, and
would recover. I said, No, Sir, he is certainly dying.' I was
I continually employed in taking the phlegm out of his mouth
with ahandlserchief, and batlsing his temples withdrops, rub-
-1 Bing his wrists, c., to give him relief, ifpossible, but all in vain ;

his hands and feet were as cold as cltay. When the doctor
came in, and saw him in the chair, 1 eaning upon my breast,
he felt his pulse, and said, He is a dead man.' Mr. Par-
sons said, ' I do not believe it ; you must do something
doctor !' He said, • I cannot ; he is now near his last
breath.' And indeed, so it was • for be fetched but one gasp,
and stretched out his feet, and breathed no more. This was
exactly at six o'clock. We continued rubbing his legs,
hands, and feet with warm cloths, and bathed him with
spirits for some time, but all in vain. I then put him into
a warm bed, the doctor standing by, and often raised him
upright, continued rubbing him, and putting spirits to his
nose for an hour, till all hopes were gone. The people came
in crowds to see him ; I begged the doctor to shut the
door."

Of the funeral he says—
" When the corpse was placed at the foot of the pulpit,
close to the vault, the Rev. Daniel Rogers made a very
affecting prayer, and openly confessed, that under God, he
owed his conversion to the labours of that dear man of God,
whose precious remains now lay before them. Then he cried
out, omy father, my father,' then stopped and wept, as
though his heart would break and the peopie weeping all
through the place. Then he recovered, and finished his
prayer, and sat down and wept. Then one of the deacons
gave out that hymn,
' Why do we mourn departing friends,' &c.,
some of the people weeping, some singing, and so on alter-
nately. The Rev. Mr. Jewel preached a funeral discourse,
and made an affectionate address to his brethren, to lay to
heart the death of that useful man of (rod; begging that he
and they might be upon their watch-tower, and endeavour
to follow his blessed example. The corpse was then put into
the vault, and all concluded with a short prayer and dismis-
sion of the people, who went weeping through the streets to
their respective places of abode."
- -

The Federal-street Church, where Whitfield was buried,
was but a short distance from the house in which he
died, and on my way to it I stopped at the sexton's
house. That functionary was not at home, but a little
bov came up to me with several keys in his hand, and
said he could show me the church, which he did. There
was not much to see, excepting- the Whitefield monu-
ment ; and when I had read the iuscription thereon, I
asked the boy to show me the vault.
" No one but father does that," said The boy ; "
he won't be here this half hour."

"Is there any one about the neighbourhood
knew Whitefield ?" I asked of him.
__ _

" Yes, there's old Sam'l Wilkinson, as lives fit
street—he says he seed'un."
And then, in obedience to my request, the lad pilots
me to the house of' a very old man, of whom I inquire
if he had known the. great preacher ?
" Yes," said he, " and I was in the room with him
just five minutes or so- ,after he died. I was only Six
years-ofilthen; and I don't know as I ever went with
the crowds to hear him, but I saw hirer dead and
buried."
I had further talk with this old man, and then went
back to the church, at the door of which I found the sex-
ton waiting for me. lit‘ preceded me through the aisle of
the church, and, opening a little narrow door by the side
of the pulpit, we passed into a dim, dingy room behind it,
and from thence, descending four or five steps, found
ourselves in a brick vault, which lay directly under the
pulpit. It was two or three minutes before my eyes got
accustomed to the gloom ; but soon objects became dis-
cernable, and I saw three old coffins, two of them ser-
ving as supports to the third, which lay across them.
Oae of these coffins contained the remains of the Rev.
Jonathan Parsons, the pastor of the church when
Whiteield was preaching here, and another holds the
bones of the Rev. Joseph Prince, a blind travelling
preacher, who died in 1791, and the third was White-
field's.

_~,

Just as if he was going to exhibit some common
curiosity, the sexton trimmed his lamp, then lifted the
lid off ao old coffin, and holding the flame close to it,
said, " Here, look in ;" and then, pointing to a heap of
bones, gathered together at the head of the shell, said, in
a very business-like tone,
" THAT'S THE MA.N."
Yes—there lay the man,or, at least, all that remained
of the once mighty preacher. For all I knew, the heap
of dirt, the skull, and the loose bones, might have been
any one else's. But a strange awe came over me at his
words, " That is the wan."
I took the skull in my hands and examined it
narrowly. The forehead was rather narrow than broad—
by no means high. I soon put it back again to the coffin,
ft ir I bethought me of Shakspeare's malediction, and felt
as if I had committed sacrilege by touching the precious
relics. It is said that one of the arm bones was stolen,
and is in England. Philip, in his " Life and Times,"
refers to this with just indignation. For my own part,
did I know the possessor of it, I would print his name,
for the purpose of shaming him into restoration.
There are some other interesting sepulchres in New-
buryport ; amongst them, the grave of Thomas Parker,
one of the early ministers. Cotton Mather thus quaintly
and beautifully speaks of him :
"He went unto the immortals in April, 1677, in the 82d
year of his age, after he had lived all his (lays a single man;
but a great part of his days engaged in Apocalyptic studies,
he went unto the Apocalyptic virgins who follow the Lamb
whithersoever he goes."
With an anecdote of Whitefield, which, I believe, is
not generally known in England, I conclude this article:
"In the last visit but one which Whitefield paid to
America, he spent a day or two at Princeton, under the roof
of the Rev. Dr. Finley, then president of the college at that
place. At dinner, the Doctor said, Mr. Whitefield, I hope
it will be very long before you will be called home, but when
that event shall arrive, I should be glad to hear the noble
testimony you will bear for God." You would be disap-
pointed, doctor,' said Whitefield, I shall die silent. It has
pleased God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for him
during my life, that he will require none from me when I die.
No, no. It is your dumb Christians, that have walked in
fear and darkness, and thereby been unable to bear a testi-
mony for God during their lives, that he compels to speak out
for him on their death-beds.' "
This anecdote was related a few months ago to a gen-
tleman of New York, by an individual now living, who
was then a student in the college, and a boarder in Dr.
Finley's family. The manner of Whitefield's death ful-
filled his prediction. WHIZ.

CALLING OUT OF THE MILITIA.
The following circular in reference to the enrolment
of the Militia has been addressed by the War-office to
the colonels of the different regiments in Great Britain:
" GREAT BRITAIN.
" War-office, December, 1845.
"Her Majesty having been graciously pleased to
signlfy her commands that the permanent staff of the
several regiments, battalions, or corps of the Militia of
Great Britain shall be completed to the numbers limited
by the Act of the sth and 6th William IV., cap. 37, I
have the honour to acquaint you that the establishment
of the staff of the regiment under your command should
be completed as soon as practicable, so as to consist of
the numbers specified in the margin—
" I Adjutant.
" 1 Sergeant-Major.
" 7 Sergeants.
" A communication will be addressed to you respect-
ing the adjutants by the Lord-Lieutenant of the county.
" A-. it appears that there are several vacancies in
the rank of sergeant, and it being highly essential that
those vacancies should be tilled by active and efficient
non-commissioned officers, whose former services in the
regular army have rendered them particularly qualified
for the duty of drilling recruits in the modern and im-
proved principle of military instruction, I have caused
to be prepared a list of non-commissioned officers (pen-
sioners of Chelsea Hospital), whose efficiency and ex-
cellent character combine to render them eligible to
supply the existing vacancies; and I beg leave to state
that, upon the expression of your wish to avail yourself
of the facility offered by this arrangement, I shall be
enabled to recommend to you, from among the pension-
ers residing in your district, the number of sergeants
requisite to complete the staff.
" Adverting to the recent inspection of the staff of
your regiment, I have to observe that, although the in-
specting officers have reported that several of theqier-
geants are unfit for the performance of duties, in the
event of the Militia being embodied for active service,
yet they are not wholly incapacitated from the perform-
ance of local duties incidental to the ballot, enrolment,
as well as the exercise of the Militia, and would be able
to afford valuable information on the first training; upon
these grounds, it is not deemed expedient, at present, to
discharge all such sergeants and replace them by others;
but as there may be some who, from their great age,
long service, and infirmities, are no longer competent to
the performance of any duties whatever, it would be
very desirable that those sergeants should be discharged,
and recommended to the Commissioners of Chelsea Hos-
pital for the grant of a pension; but before any definitive
measures are adopted upon that point, I should be glad
to receive a statement upon the inclosed form, showing
the names and services in all ranks of the sergeants
whom you may desire to select for discharge upon this
occasion, preparatory to the adoption of ulterior mea-
sures respecting them.
" I have the honour to be,
" Your most obedient, humble servant,
" SIDNEY HERBERT.
Regiment of Militia."

" Colonel of the

SHIPWRECK.—In a letter from Barra, dated Bth
ult., we have the following:—"A vessel, the crew of which
are all Spaniards, was lately stranded near Alasdale. She is
imbedded in sand, so that the amount of injury suffered has
not yet been ascertained. The crew of_tohmeputnrofollretrunofateeusvtoesmseil
were all saved by means of a rope cast from her towards the
great
many aretttl e
d the
shore. Part a the cargo, which consists of fish, has been
gBrneat
landed, but cannot be sold until the (`•
arriEvAenfrtormisßSTtiosrnEmowE-aiT.l'3—±igmneAsLs
ECOliceisori4
PLAnINv'TirS AND
ladieskn n andw others .tue
are f
HilooltiotwoawyA.sY;fillPs,ltLhial.—a
purchasing them in large quantities
lies. These Pills act in so wonderful a manner upon the system
and constitution of females generally (even on infants at the
breast), that whether
taken when entering into womanhood,
or at the turn of life, or any other time, a few doses of this fins
medicine will
always produce the desidered effect and restore
health
when every other remedy has failed. Sold by all
drurrgis - ts, and at Professor Holloway's Establishment, 244,
Strand, London.
THE DEMAND FOR PAROCHIAL RATES UNDER
THE DISTUICT ASYLUMS ACT. —At the Marylebone Vestry,
last Saturday an order was read from the Central Board of
Management 'for the District Asylums for 173/.75. 11d., being
the proportion of the Marylebone parish towards the sup-
port of the Western District Asylum, and which was calcu-
lated after the rate of the twentieth part of one penny in the
pound upon 832.3121, the parish rental. The money is to
he paid on the olith inst. to the Hon. Philip Pleydell Bon-
vetio. The parochial authorities are resolved- to let their
coeds be seized sooner than pay it. At the same vestry,
Mr Pea:2o:34 solicitor to the board, stated that Lord Port-
man had served upon him a notice of action, in consequence
of their surveyor having attempted to remove the gates
erected by his Lordship in Harewood-square. Mr. Peacock
said that he would have to pay- the Solicitor- General 100
guineas as a retaining fee iu the action. 'l ha vestry desired
their attorney to defend the action, and, instead of the Soli-
citor-General, selected Sergeant Talfourd and 11-
.1.... r. Peacoci,
jun., to be their counsel.
A RARE CIRCUMSTANCE.—A goose, the property
of Mr. Spink, farmer, of Wentbridge, hatched, during the
course of last week, seven goslings,
which
is the second pro-
' duce in one year.