The Sun.
London, England, 1845-10-25 00:00:00

Decrease in the circulation of notes with the
public

Seven day and other bills
Last time

1,081,206
1,088,160

Decrease in the bills .

Public deposits
Last time ....... ,

6,954

Increase in the public deposits..

8,782,975
8,703,497

Private or "other deposits"
,Lust time

79,478

8,474,856
8,167,961

Increase in the private or "other deposits"

Government securities .......
[No alteration.]

Private or " other securities"
Last time

Decrease in the private or other securities 54,999

Gold and silver coin and bullion
Last time

14,580,6E4
.

Decrease in the bullion,&c.,in both departments 284,359

[ncrease in the circulation, as compared with the
corresponding week of last year .... 803,160
:ncrease in the bullion, ditto, ditto 135,650

TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN.

From my Chambers in the West, Oct. 18, 1845.
Sin,--The above account is more satisfactory than the re-
turns of the preceding week; the extension in the circulation
has been checked, and the tables turned the other way. The
large increase of 306,8951. in the private or other deposits, on
the eve of the:dividends, is of a very unusual character, and
shows the abundance of money. The decrease in the private
or other securities of_ 54,999/. is but the beginning of a consi-
derable reduction under that head; for if parties can get
bills discounted in Lombard- street at 2% or 29/4 per cent.,
they will of course cease to apply at the Bank ;
the consequence will be, that large sums will
remain in the banking department unproductive.
It is true their Government securities are greatly reduced in
amount. On the 12th October last year they had 16,353,834/.,
now t hey have only 13,348,643/, being a reduction of 3,005,1911.
in the twelve months ; this amount can now be advan-
tageously replaced, paying even a better rate of interest than
discounting bills at: three per cent., at the present prices of
the funds. The bullion is again decreased ; still, the amount
is above the returns of the corresponding week of last year,
and the present rates of exchange even more favourable than
at that period.
The 'Bank having raised its discounts to three per cent. will,
it is said, have the effect of making some men more sober ;
of course in the same proportion as three bears to two-and-a-
half, that is to say, the maximum of speculation is to be re-
duced in the inverse ratio of twenty per cent. on the aggre-
gate amount, by the increase of one-half per cent. in the
value of money, eras crcdemus, hodie nail. The real cause,
however, for this alteration, is stated not to arise so much
from apprehensions of a domestic nature, but that the Directors
have at last found out that money is of more value on the
continent than in this country ; but this fact was known to
them last autumn, and had they then listened to Cosmo-
polite's remarks they would not have reduced their discounts
from three to two-and-a-half per cent. at all, for at that
very period the Bank of France was discounting bills at the
current rate of four per cent. The thirst for speculation was
at that time also in an incipient state, which the proceedings
cf the Directors since fanned into an unquenchable flame ;
besides it would have prevented this early and injudicious
tampering with the value of money at the rates so recently
established.

It is an old adage, that large bodies move slow ; so it in-
deed appears, for the gentlemen in the Bank-management
have required an experience of twelve months to discover
that if certain parties could get bills discounted here at two-
and-a- half per cent. and employ the proceeds in the 'discount
markets abroad, at from three-and-a-half to five•and-a-
half per cent., it would yield a large profit to those so en-
gaged and ultimately bring a vast number of continental
bills in this country for the like purpose, which, although
drawn by foreign houses, yet being accepted or endorsed by
our first-rate merchants and capitalists,must ofcourse be con-
sidered as unquestionable paper at the Bank and discounted
accordingly.—l am, Sir, your obedient servant,

COSISIOPOLITE.

COWES,--.1.4;Lail OF WIGHT.
(FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT.)
OCT. 24.--We have a continuation of the most splen-
did weather, no rain having fallen for the last fortnight.
The barometer at 30.33 ; the thermometer at 56 in the
shade. Amongt our fashionable departures are—Sir
Bellingham and Lady Graham and family, from Norfolk-
house, for 131, Park-street, Grosvenor-square ; Major-
General Richardson, Mrs. Richardson, and Miss Richard-
son, from Mill-hill-house, for Sydney-place, Bath ; Mr.
Sergeant Shee. from Gothic-villa ; Lady Pigott, from
No. I, Bath-buildings ; Mr. Burton, from No. 2, Bath-
buildings. The yachting season is fast drawing to a
close, but we have still some few yachts in the roads.
Captain Ponsonby's new schooner yacht proceeded to
the westward yesterday to try her trim. The Flirt also
stood to the westward. The Vice-Commodore is at
Harriet-lodge ; Sir L. and Lady Shadwell at Egypt-
house ; P. Erle; Esq., at Beach-villa ; Sir Edward and
Lady Paget, at the Castle ; Lord Yarborough is at
Appuldurcombe ; Sir William and Lady Montagu are
are expected at Grantham-house, and Lady Conway at
Norfolk-house. We continue to have numerous arrivals,
but the greater part of them proceed on to Ventnor for the
winter. That part of the island is more full of company
than it has been for years.
GAS.—The shops and public lamps of this town were
lighted with gas this evening, for the first time. Many
of the cld'uns are very anxious about the fire-engines,
and hope they will be kept ready. A number of old
ladies will have a sleepless night—to introduce such a
dangerous thing in the town, and on a Friday, too 1

THE MANCHESTER ATHENIEUM.

MANCHESTER, Oev. 24.—Last evening, the members of
this literary association gave their third annual soiree at the
Free Trade-hall, Peter's-street. The attendance, as on pre-
vious occasions, was very large, the vast hall, capable, it is
said, of accommodating 3,000 in a sitting posture, being
crowded in every part by well-dressed ladies and gentlemen.
The chairman, Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, was supported on
the right by the Mayor, on the left by Mr. Cobden, M.P.,
Mr. M. Philips, M.P., Mr. M. Gibson, ALP,' Mr. Brotherton,
M.P., Mr. Bright, M.P., Mr. Douglas Jerrold, and several
literary gentlemen from London. Mr. Charles Dickens was
to have come, but was prevented by the delicate state of
Mrs. Dickens's health. Ml. Thiers was also invited, but was
unable, on account of engagements in Paris, to proceed to
Manchester.

Mr. Sergeant TAi'ounn, who was received with loud
cheers, commenced the proceedings by briefly adverting to
the splendid talents of some of his predecessors in the chair.
Impressive as the scene before him would be in any place, it
became solemn, almost awful, when the true relations, the
real significancy of its splendour were revealed. When they
considered that this festival of intellect was held in the capi-
tal of a district which comprised scarcely less than two mil-
lions of inhabitants, engrossed in a far greater proportion by
the toils of commerce and manufacture than any other dis-
trict in the world—when they remembered that this great
assembly indicated an unprecedented desire upon the part of
those who directed the labour of these large clasaes to share
with them whose labour they thus directed, and whose inte-
rest they thus guarded, that literature, which was once the
privilege of the cloistered few, but now formed the finest
social links of this vast society in this vast city—when
they bore in mind all these considerations, they felt that
the object which this society represented, although in-
tensely local, was yet of universal concern, and they
would cease to wonder at that familiar interest which
he, a stranger, took in it, whenever it was presented
to his notice,--(Cheers.) The Learned Gentleman pro-
ceeded to congratulate the meeting upon what
their institution had accomplished—upon what had
been accomplished, too, in Manchester, in a spirit kindred to
the exertions of the institution whose members he was ad-
ressing. He especially congratulated them on the boon
which they had secured to the toiling thousands of Man-
chester, the precious Saturday half-holiday—that boon alike
precious to man as to boy—when manhood borrowed the en-
dearing name from childhood, and sought to enrich it with
all that remained of childhood's still-remembered feelings—
(Cheers)—precious in the impulse which it gave to labour,
and most precious in its result, when, brightened and graced
by those modes which this association indicated, it left body
and mind more free for the service of earth and heaven

(Cheers.) In considering the benefits which the Manchester
Athenaeum was likely to be the source of to those among whom
it was founded, he would regard them not so much as afford-
ing a path by which a few might rise above their station, as
promising a means of adorning and gracing that sphere of
action in which many must continue to move. It might be
that some master- mind might start into fame from their
ranks ; and should such rare felicity be their lot, with how
great pride would they expatiate upon that greatness which
they had watched in its dawn, and with how pure a satisfac-
tion would they commemorate the achievements of their
then illustrious townsman, when,satiated with the applausqof
strangers, he would revert to those scenes among which his
genius found its first expression, and earned its first prize.
But it was not in the culture of such rare minds that he an-

ticipated the happiest fruits of their peaceful viCtOfTesTiie
talents which in darker ages might hate suggested the
desire to guide the obscure but honourable sphere of peace-
ful labour in quest of literary distinction, could at present
only be safely employed in adorning the path in which they
originally moved. But if it were too late to be ambitious
except on some rare occasions, for the immortality which
earth cou!d bestow, yet, for that true immortality of which
time's longest duration was only a vivid symbol—for that
immortality, the cultivation of wisdom and piety was as
momentous now as ever. They would believe him when
he said that there was no path more open to the influenoe
of heaven than the common path of daily duty. On that
path the lights from various departments of their institution
would fall with the steadiest lustre, and by that light they
might walk in peace and gladness, if not in glory, happy in
the opportunity of elucidating some great truth which might
be reflected from the polished mirrors of thousands of asso-
ciated minds.—(Cheers.) After alluding to several other
points, the Learned Gentleman touched upop, tin ituacial

affairs of the institution—a sketch of which we have already
given—and concluded by urging forcibly upon the assem-
blage the duty of supporting strenuously and unweariedly
the institution whose anniversary they were met to celebrate.
To the young he especially committed it. For their benefit
it was especially founded—for its welfare they were especially
responsible. Let them never forget, in this great capital of
physical labour, how important it was that spiritual power
should be awakened into like activity. Canning once said
that be had called a new world into existence to redress the
balance of the old; but let them keep the balance even, be-
tween the world within and that without, keeping steady the
social vessel with contemplation's immortal freightage.
Mr. MARK Pamirs, M.P., was the next speaker. He re-
gretted that it had not been in his power to have attended
other and former anniversaries of the Manchester Athenaeum.
If they had ever entertained any doubt as to the success of
the Institution, lie trusted that those fears had been as fully
removed on their part as he was sure that they were upon
his own. It was evident that the mind of Manchester was
set upon effecting its object. He saw before him the as-
surance that the Athenaeum would not stand still, much less
retrograde. On the contrary, he looked forward to the pe-
riod when almost every young man of Manchester should he
a member of the Athenmum, or of some kindred institution,
the whole to work together towards one common object, and
with one common aim. There seemed to be but one opinion
in favour of the Institution. It was founded upon the best
of all principlc,s—self-government. They were responsible
to themselves for the management of their own affairs, and
he trusted that that management would continue to be as
prosperous as it had hitherto been. The Honourab'e Gentle-
man proceeded to allude to a part of Mr. Disraeli's speech
last year, in which he dissected the lonely condition of a
young man arrived from the country in Manchester, lowly
and unknown. To all such the Athenaeum afforded a rally-
ing point, !he best possible refuge for a young man so situated.
There he would meet with welcome and instruction—there
he might amuse, while he instructed himself—there, while
morally and intellectually he was cultivating his faculties, he
would also feel that socially he was not alone. After an ap-
peal to the ladies, who had done so much for the Athenaeum,
and an energetically expressed hope that they would con-
tinue their exertions in its behalf, the Honourable Gentleman
resumed his seat amid hearty applause.
Mr. F. STONE, who was introduced by the Chairman as an
p.rtist of celebrity, who left Manchester when young to push
his fortunes single-handed in London, next addressed the
meeting, and dilated on the advantages which such au insti-
tution as that whose prosperity they were now met to cele-
brate held out to young students in the fine arts. He in-
ferred from the success of the Athenaeum a sympathy for the
fine arts, properly so called; and he ventured to hope the
time was fast approaching when a public school of art would
be established.—(Cheers.)
Mr. BRIGHT, M.P., disclaimed all pretensions to literary
or scientific distinction; he professed to having attained
only to this degree,—that he had learned to admire and
honour those men who, by their deep thought or eloquent
writings, had done anything to improve and elevate man-
kind—(Cheers)—and when he looked at that vast assemblage,
he might say there were thousands present who might
claim not to be literary men, but at least to have warm
sympathies with the feelings they expressed, and to honour
those who thus led the minds of their countrymen.—(Cheers.)
They were met not for the purpose of engaging in a frivo-
lous amusement, or passing an idle hour, but for the pur-
pose of supporting an institution of the very best and noblest
character—an institution which had for its object the promo-
tion, among those who at a very early period must become
themselves the directors and controllers of public opinion and
intelligence in that district, of those sentiments and that cha-
racter which would enable them satisfactorily to fulfil those
high duties to which they would speedily be called. The very
character of the district presented one of the strongest argu-
ments in favour of such an institution. It was more populous,
more wealthy, and had more powers ofproducing wealth than
any other part of the kingdom. For activity of mind it was
unequalled ; he doubted if it were equalled by any other por-
tion of the British empire; and if there were such a popula-
tion, such wealth, such power to create wealth, and such
activity of mind, was he wrong in coming to the conclusion
that the course which should be pursued and the opinions
that should prevail there would greatly influence the destinies
of the empire and of the world ?—(Cheers.) The records of
the past were those of error, crime, and suffering, and was it too
much to say that mankind might yet be made more happy_
was it an irreverent thought that they might by cultivation
more largely develop the divine faculties within them, and
thus aid at once the human happiness and the honour and re-
nown of the Creator himself? Time was when the destiny of
nations was in the hands of one, or a few men; but a mighty
change was now taking place, and in proportion as nations
became informed and intelligent, power was diffused among
them, and became transferred from the hands of the few to

those of the many. Public opinion was daily gathering
strength, and was marching on to omnipotence and an undis-
puted dominion.—(Cheers.) He admitted that much had
been done in Manchester,—he doubted whether any town in
the kingdom had made such rapid strides,—but still he could
not conceal a from himself that much remained to be done.

They must erect: for themselves a high standard and a noble
aim, and rest satisfied with nothing while anything re-
mained to be achieved. It was not enough for them in Man-
chester that they clothed the world cheaply; it was not
enough that many merchants and manufacturers amassed
wealth, and that multitudes of industrious artizans were well
paid, and in comfortable circumstances; more than this was
wanted. Measures should be taken to secure a sound and
real education, not so much among the operative classes as
among his own class and rank, connected with the mauufac-

tures and commerce of the district. He held it to be quite
impossible that there should be a great up-raising of the ope-
rative classes unless there were a corresponding improve-
ment in the class next above them in the social
scale.—(Cheers.) A great effort at some not distant period
' must be made for this purpose. When he recollected that
the so-called national universities were not for them, and
that from their honours and advantages the vast multitudes
of that district were effectually debarred, it was not for
them to fold their arms in apathy because they found diffi-
culties in their path. If they were surmountable, why
should they not be surmounted? He pictured to himself
the good, the intelligent, and generous people of Lancmhire
and Yorkshire, dissatisfied with things as they were with
respect to educational means, gradually rousing themselves
from their apathy; and he saw a long list of names denoting
large subscriptions for the purpose of founding, building,
and establishing some great free college or university which
should be for the especial service of those who were engaged
in the vest commerce of the district.—(Cheers.) The principle
on which it should proceed must be, that It snouta be tree,
open to all—they should not suppose that the teaching, the
imperfect teaching, of a couple of dead languages was educa-
tion, any more than they were to consider that true nobility
consisted in a long line of dead ancestors. He hoped that
the education which would be imparted would be of a prac-
tical character, and that with all the knowledge communi-
cated there would be associated those noble sentiments and
generous sympaties which formed the essence of true wis-
dom, and enabled its possessors rightly to use the informa-
tion they bad acquired.—(Cheers.) lie did not despair of
seeing what he now suggested accomplished at no distant
day.—(Cheers.) Thay had warred with the elements, and
chained the powers of nature to do their bidding. The
very air they breathed would speedily propel them across a
kingdom in a few hours. With increased physical comforts
and advantages would they neglect the far more noble, be-
cause the indestructible portion of their being?—victors in
the material, would they be content to gain no laurels in
the intellectual world?-(Cheers.) Rather would they not,
diving to deeper depths and soaring to loftier heights,
rise in moral stature, and add to all those outward blessings
with which they were surrounded those which were purer
and more lasting, which would spring up as a rich harvest
from the culture of the mind? He trusted every one he
addressed would that night form a resolution to do what he
could to make that county and district educationally what
it ought to be, and what it must become, if they would
have social order preserved, and the prosperity continued.
—(Cheers.)
The CirmustAx begged now to introduce a gentleman who
had been long known to him, and with whom in spirit he
was quite sure they had all for years been familiar-, one whosa
graver writings had been devoted in the most earnest and
thoughtful manner to the great interests of his species, and
whose lighter works displayed the greatest mingling of wit
and wisdom of any writer of his time, whether presented
before the curtain of the theatre, or, as was sometimes whis-
pered,
behind the curtain by a certain lady friend of his not
necessary to mention.—(Loud cheers.) He saw they under-
stood well whom he meant, and therefore he would at once
call on Mr. Douglas Jerrold to address them.

Mr. DOUGLAS JERROLD was received with the greatest en-
thusiasm. After the cheering which greeted his appearance
had subsided he spoke as follows :—The high object of your
Institution—its many refining tendencies—have been so fully
discussed—have been set forth with such various and com-
manding eloquence by your distinguished Chairman, that
little, indeed, on such points is left for me to utter; and
herein do I hold myself peculiarly fortunate. I congratulate
myself, and I especially congratulate you, upon the very
subordinate part I must necessarily play in the drama of
this evening. I have, you will perceive, already touched
upon the drama. I thought, before my present audience, I
might venture to do so ; though, I assure you, there are
certain circles in the great city I quttted yesterday, in which
I fear, any such allusioft would have been considered to be
very vulgar indeed. But having alluded to the drama,
and having still your cordial welcome, I cannot but com-
pare myself to one of the very many walking gentlemen
with which the drama abounds. It is the great occasion on
which they appear that allows to them even the most passing
attention ; not to themselves, but to the principles with which
they are humbly associated—principles carried out by
stronger, loftier agents—that they owe their presence on the
scene ; and such, ladies and gentlemen, do I feel to be my
position this evening. The success of your admirable Insti-
tution has been made so manifest to-night--its prosperity has
been so full and complete—its noble uses have been so widely
acknowledged, that it is as difficult to find anything new to
praise as it seems hopeless for me to discover aught to con-
demn. Indeed, did I selfishly wish for matter for a more
lengthened speech, I should wish for the revival of some
good old wholesome wrong, and desire the presence of one
of those bugbears of the good old times, one of those creatures
of ignorance, that condemned knowledge for the like reason
that the owl flees the sun.—(Cheers.) It had not eyes,
poor thing, to bear that light created for the health and
happiness of the meanest man that lives.—(Cheers.) But
there is no such antagonist to fight—no such bugbear to
grapple with.—(Cheers.) The Lady Knowledge, too long
pent up in her tower, guarded not only by giants, but,
more provoking still, by dwarfs—(Cheers)—and we have only
to look back a few years, a very few years, to own there have
been dwarfs as mischievous as any in fairy tale—(Cheers)—
the Lady Knowledge, I say, is no longer a prisoner.—
(Cheers.) We have killed the giants, we bavo slain the
dwarfs. (Cheers,)—And how have we killed them ? Why,
as Luther rebuked the Devil, , by throwing inkstands at
them.--(Loud cheers and laughter.) Her music is no
longer made the idle luxury of the few, but is acknow-
ledged in the daily want of the many.—(Cheers.) It is
a proud thing for you, people of Manchester, that you
have erected a temple to her—a temple, wherein the hum-
blest of your fellow-townsmen may come and listen to her.
and feel his nature at once softened and elevated by the magic
of her voice.—(Cheers.) To say that it offered to such the
sweetest solace after the day of toil—to say that it imparted
to him a keener consciousness of the dignity of his na-
ture—to say, that whilst teaching them their own right-
ful position in the world, it makes them respect the
rightful position of others, is only to translate into the
merest common-place the oft-repeated eloquence of gifted
men.—(Loud cheers.) These things are now truisms. But
human nature is apt to be ungrateful to truisms; for, let us
not forget how fortunate it is for us that we live in an age
when they are truisms.—(Cheers.) For truths, like oaks, are
of slow growth ; and it is with the early truth as with the
acorn—show it to merest ignorance, and it. cannot conceive
how that little germ should hold within it a latent power
that, duly developed, shall breast the billow, and defy the
thunder.—(Loud cheers.) And so has truth grown, but with
this sad diffErence, that it has too often been watered with
the blood of those who have dared to plant it.—(Cheers.)
Happy then is it for us, and for the blessing ought we to
render up most humble and hearty thanks that we may to-
night be gathered together under its branches—(Cheers),
for your institution is a great truth—(Cheers)—a truth, it may
be, planted amidst the fears of the timid, the sneers of the
foolish, the misgivings of really well-meaning folks, who

-
still thought that that. truth for -the masses was the barley-
sugar of children.—(Cheers and laughter.) They might
hays a little just a little when very good—but to allow