The Sun.
London, England, 1827-08-01 00:00:00

AGRICULTURAL REPORT FOR 3 JLY,

The earth's products of the present year have
been described, in our preceding Reports, as
probable to be generally abundant—perhaps
above the average of seasons. There is now
every probability that the nearly approaching
harvest will verify, to the letter, this nationally'
egbilirating expectation. The breadth of wheat
in the country is said, from all quarters, to be
most extensive ; and during some years past, the
culture of this staff of life and of potatoes has
been annually extending.
It is only ou the most productive lands that
whea: is very bulky : on the inferior, though the
ear be pf fair size, the straw is not great.
Harvest wiz commence with the next month, or
even the couctlusion of the present, in the for-
ward districts; anel barley has been already cut
in Dorsetshire. The: barley crop is supposed to
be the heaviest, both id ear and stern ; oats the
least so; and the complaints pf foul tilth seem
to attach, in-the greatest degree, to the oat crop.
Too many good old farmers appear y:t to set
much store by double crops.
The hops have certainly passed through the'
vicissitudes of the season with less injury than]
was predicted ; and there having been for some
seasons, a much larger. stock on hand than of
-which the speculators were aware, the article
neither did, nor in probability will, for a consi-
derable period, reach the high prices of former
clays. The hay is a general good crop, well got
in, with the exception of that part of the lands
on which the roots of the grass perished during
the drought of last year.
• That most important .crop, the turnip, both
white and Swedish, after some early. Mishaps, is
in fair progress, and, at this' time, undergoing the
process of a second hoeing. The late showers
have been infinitely beneficial.
Fruits promise to be a general crop, particu-
larly apples ; with the drawback so annoying to
the taste of foreigners, of too much acid in a
great part, most in the, currents—and the
absence of that grateful siediaro-snbaxid flavour
in the juices, which is never found in perfection
in seasons when any considerable degree of
blight prevails.,--Mwit/i/.9 Magazine.

Ihs harvest has 'commonesd at liornewia,
anti during the present-weeksvill cornuaance in this neigh-
bourhood. All the crops appear plentifa and healthy,
and likely to exceed an Aventge .harvest. The hay is not
suite got in, but it will be all stacked in the course of a
few dap. The eddishee atsme a verdant ,and, fruitfol
appearance.—Boston Gazelle.

MARIA CLEMENTINA, AN UNFORTU.

NATE NUN.

(From Six Months in the West Indies in 1825.)
Reader, if your whim or your necessities
should lead you to Madeira, go for my sake to
the nunnery of Santa Clara. It is at the wes-
tern end of Funchal, and you may buy there the
prettiest flowers for your sweetheart's hair, and
the most ingenious toys in wax that are in the
world. • The nuns sell them very cheap, and all
they get from you goes in real charity to them-
selves or their pensioners. Perhaps also you
►nay see poor Maria, if she be not dead ; if she
comes, speak to her very kindly, and give my
love to her ;—but you do not know me, or poor
Maria either.

Maria Clementina, the youngest child of Pedro
Agostinho, was born in Madeira. Her parents
had an unusually large family, and were labour-
ing under some embarrassment from the unfa-
voural4le termination of an important lawsuit.
What unfortunate event coincided with her
birth, I know not, but Maria was disliked by
her father and mother from. the first years of her
infancy. Her brothers neglected her- in obedi-
ence to their parents, and her sisters, who were
very ugly, hated her for her beauty. Every one
else in Funchal and the neighbourhood loved
her, and she had many offers of marriage at
thirteen years of age, which the little maiden
laughed at and forwarded to her I Icier sisters.
The more she was petted abroad, the more was
she persecuted at home. She was treated at
length like Cinderella, with no chance of a fairy to
help her. Amongst other arrangements for the
purchase of commissions for two of his sons, and
for giving portions to two of his daughters,
Pedro AgostinhO determined to sacrifice his
best and sweetest child Maria. At eighteen she
was placed as a novice in this nunnery, at nine-
teen she took the veil and renounced the world
for ever. At this time she was the most beau-
tiful girl in the island, and, what is remarkable in
a Portuguee, of a fair complexion, with a bril-
liant colour, blue eyes, and very long and glossy
brown hair.

A year after this, the Constitutional Govern-
merit was established in Portugal, and one of the
first and wisest acts of the Cortes was to order
the doors of all religious liOuses to be thrown
open. Santa Clara was visited by friends and
strangers, some to see the church, some to see
the garderr, and some to see the nuns.' Amongst
others a Portuguese officer, at that time quar-
tered in Funchal, saw and fell in love with
Maria ; he was a handsome youth, of a
good family, and Maria returned.hjs love with
an earnestness.which perhaps had as much a de-
sire `of liberty as female passion in it. A nun is
emancipated from her parents, and the law de-
clared the vow of celibacy null and void. The
marriage was determined on, her hair permitted
to grow again, her clothes prepared, and the
wedding-day fixed. Maria fell ill, and the
physician enjoined perfect quiet for some time.
The wedding-day was fatally postponed to
another clay, and before that day arrived,
his Faithful Majesty had dissolved his Parlia-
ment, and, fearful lest HeaVen shculd lose one
more of its daughters, had revoked the law of
the Cortes, and dispatched an express to notify
as much to his subjec6 in Madeira. Maria
rose from her bed of sickness to return to her
cell and her rosary ; her lengthening ringlets were
again mercilessly shorn ; the mob cap, the lea-
thorn corset, the serge gown were laid before
her, and some old Egyptians who could not
better themselves elsewhere, -bade her return
thanks: that she had so narrowly escaped mixing
again in the vanities of the world.
On the sth of January, a few hours before
we sailed from Madeira, I walked with a hand-
some and very agreeable Englishwoman to visit
Rota Claim. I was very anxious to see Maria,
whose try I knew. After a little hesitation on
the part of two or three venerable ladies, who
first presented themselves tit the great door of
ihe house, Maria was summoned. She came to.
yriOt a smiling countenance, and kissed my
companion repeatedly. Her colour was gone,
but she was still beautifully fair,
.and the exqui-
. site shape of her neck Arid the nobleness of her
forehead were visible under the disadvantage of a
dress as ungraceful as was ever invented for the
purppse of mortifying female vanity. She spoke
her language with that pretty' lisp which, I
believe, the 'critics of Lisbon pronounce to be a
icious peculiarity of tfie natives of Madeira, but
318-O with a- correctness and an energy that indi-
cated a*p 01,,,,;:ful and ingenious mind. I took
half of a large violets 'which I had in
my hand and gave them to friend to present
to her. Flowers are a dialect of Portuguese
which is soon learnt. She took them, citrieied
very low, opened the folds of a muslin neckker-
chief, and dropped them loose on her snowy'
bosom.
The veSper hell sounded, the door was closed
between the nun and the world, but she beckoned
us to go into their church. 'l/474 e did so ; it is
one of the finest in the island, and very curiously
lined with a sort of porcelain ; attached to its
western end is the chapel of the nuns, and a
double iron grating to enable them to'hear anti
participate in the service of the mass. Maria
came with some flowers in her hand which she
had been gathering in the garden. She took
four of them from the rest, and gave them to me
throllgh the bars. " Sao immortaes," said she.;
they were some common everlastings.
" How old are you ?"•said 1. " Twenty-one."
" And your name is—" I added. " Maria."
And Clementina as well ?" " Yes, in by-
gone dap,"
I leaned as close as I could and spoke 4 few
words in a low tone, which she did not seem to.
understand.
She does not understand,, said I.

" Yes, yes;' interrupted Maria, " I under-
stand well ; speak." " Are you happy, lady ?"
The abbess,' who was engaged with my com-
panion, turned her head, and Maria answered
with an air of gaiety, " 0 ! yes; very happy."
I shook my head as in doubt. A minute
elapsed, and the abbess was, occupied again.—
Maria put her hail& through the grating, took
one of thine, and made me feel a thin gold ring
on her little finger, and then, pressing my hand
closely, sai4, in accents which I still hear, " No,
no, no ; I have the heart-ache."
The service began ; the old :nuns croaked like
frogs, end the young ones paced up and down,
round and, about, in strange and fanciful figures,
chaunting as sweetly 4s caged canary birds.
gazed at them for a long tune with feelings that
cannot be t.old, and when it was time to go, I
caught Maria's eye, and made her a slight but
earnest bow. She dropped a curtsey which seem-
ed a rauflection to her neighbour, raised a
violet behind her service-book to her mouth,
held it, looked 4t it, 41)4 kissed it in token of
an eternal farewell.