The Sun.
London, England, 1827-07-11 00:00:00

PUBLIC OPINION.

TILE ST. JAMES'S CHRONICLE.-Some of onr readers,
we dare say, have not forgotten the triumph with which
the introduction of the St. James's Chronicle to the Ex-
change and Portico News Rooms was mentioned by the
Manchester Courier or Herald, or both. We have now
to state, that from both these rooms it has already been
rejected; in the latter, the place of two Chronicles being
supplied by one copy of the Standard. There is an old
saying, that "one man can take a horse to the river, but
a hundred cannot make him drink ;" and so it was with
the St. James's Chronicles. There was no difficulty in
placing them on the • tables of the Exchange ; but it was
impossible to make the subscribers read them ; mulligan).
a time have they been lying on the tables, the day after
their arrival, without so much as having been unfolded.
In the Exchange Room there are now 46 London daily
papers taken, of which 38 support, and 8 oppose tke pre-
sent Ministry, a pretty fair representation perhaps of the
proportions in which the opinions of society are divided
amongst us.—Manchester Mercury.
Last Saturday the ultra Tot), cabal in the Leeds Coffee-
room, sustained a signal defeat upon every one of the three
following propositions :—That an additional Standard
shall be taken ; rejected.—That one of the two Couriers
now received shall be discontinued ; rejected.—That the
St. James's Chronicle shall be discontinued; carried.
And all those resolutions were come to, though certain
malcontents were brought to vote who are never seen in
the room, except for purposes of faction, and though they
had been recruiting for a fortnight.—Leeds Mercury.
THE STANDAr.n.—This journal, which has been set up
by or for the Ex-Ministers, and which one of our contem•
poraries gives us to understand, is such a favourite amongst
the ultra loyal in this town, has, in a late number, the fol-
lowing passage :—" In the disposal of the church pa-
tronage ! he (Mr. Canning) has been compelled to obey
implicitly the orders of a haughty and (we will speak out)
mercenary beauty—whose influence is, for the curse of
this country, absolutely boundless." What an outcry the
Tory journals would have made a few months ago, if a
Whig or Radical paper had ventured to insinuate against
his Sovereign a liaison and subjection to influence, like
that which led to the ever-memorable inquiry into the
conduct of the late Duke of York.—Manchester Mercury.

MORE HORSE-STEALING NEAR SAFFRON
WALDEN.-011 Saturday evening last, a gen-
tleman travelling from London to Newmarket
with a valuable horse, stopped for the night at
the Queen's Head Inn, Littlebury ; when the
landlord, Mr. Shaw, having observed a man.
named William Peachy lurking about, whose
character for some years has been notorious in
this part of Essex, he determined to keep a look-
out. His suspicion was not unjustly excited ;
for, while standing at a window which commanded!
a view of his yard and premises, about twelve
o'clock, he saw Peachy coming out of the stable
leading the gentleman's horse by the forelock,
and crossing the yard to the turnpike-road in a
direction for London. Mr. ,Shaw immedtateh•
called up his horse-keeper, and was thus enabled
to secure the thief. He was placed in the ens-.
tody of two constables, and is to be examined
to-day.—. County Chronicle.

ETCHINGS FROM LIFE.

A HOT DAY IN LONDON.

There is one period in the year (supposing
the year to be orthodox in its temperature), when
England seems inclined to rival Africa, and as
that period is now close at hand, we shall, by way
ofamusement, just venture upon etching (nothing
more) a few of its prominent miseries. In the
streets, at mid-day, the sun shines down in full
unclouded lustre, chiefly on one side, which is
by common consent abandoned. If, therefore,
you foot it with the rest of the world on this one
side, and happen, like most sprigs of fashion, to
cherish a crop of creditors, it is odds but you
meet your tailor, whose pecuniary influenza,
heightened by the ardour of a Sierra Leone at-
mosphere, gives symptoms of extraordinary in-
flammation. If you walk on the other side, you
are still more unfortunate, for in addition to the
probabilities of being roasted alive, you incur the
risk of encountering, not merely your tailor, but
every single creditor you possess, as a fugleman,
who marches alone, is visible to a whole company.
In the bustling parts of town the spirit of the
season is more particularly visible. The butchers'
shops destroy all ideas of the picturesque
Grange's is thronged with visitors professing an
elegant horror of perspiration ; and, in saunter-
. ing down St. James's-street, you meet the lady
to whom you are attached, with a face as red as
beet-root. In Regent-street, the centre of Mac-
adamization, the dust whirls like a tornado in
the wake of every coach that passes The Horse
Guards appear as if they could dispense with
their helmets : the pedestrian who adventures on
the blistering sun-scorched pavement in pumps,
stands a reasonable chance of being pulverized
and the horse stationed with my Lord's cab
at the door of White's, kicks to no purpose at
the flies. At the Elephant and Castle, the pas-
sengers belonging to the different coaches look
mistrustfully at each other ; and one gentleman,
wedged inside the Tunbridge stage between a fat
elderly lady, who takes snuff', and an asthmatic
green-grocer, who refuses to have the window
down, suddenly finds himself in a blessed condi-
don. In the city, the Aldermen have lost all
appetite for their luncheons. The ticket-
porters at the India-house " drop in " oftener than
usual at the Stag and Stinging Nettles over the
way ; the shopman at Flint's, with a pen stuck
fast behind his ear, leans gracefully languid upon
_his yard, and Mr. Under-Sheriff vows that he
never see'd sich weather." At the theatre
the ladies in the dress boxes are thawing
fast away ; the pit is all but dissolved ; and the
gentleman who acts Falstaff stands a fair chance
of being melted down to the dimensions of the
Living Skeleton. As evening draws on, a
nice young man," who has been some years
hopelessly attached, finds that the " lady of his
" can no longer look coldly on him, se
whispers affectionate nothings to her at a quadrille
party, and would even ask her to dance, were
he not apprehensive that the exercise would dis-
compose his moustachios. Towards night, when
that happy portion of spciety entitled married
folks prepare for—but enough, the bare idea
is awfill, so we willingly dismiss the subject.

(No. II.)
A HOT DAY IN THE COUNTRY,

At sun-rise the whole landscape is sbtoudea
from head to foot in a silver livery of mist,
through which glimmers a red coppery sun,
weak, straggling, and indefinite, as my Lord
Lauderdale's pamphlets on the Corn Laws, until
about eight o'clock, when the fog draws up like
a curtain from the scene, and the regular busi-
ness of the weather comes on in good earnest.—.
About this time the day-labourer (not half the
man he was at five o'clock) casts a longing eve
towards a cow, who is standing up to her knees
in water, and thinks that, if it were not for his
intellect, he had much better be that animal.—
The bee, too, now begins to stir abroad, with a
sort of heavy drowsy hum, like the nose of a come
try magistrate, who has &ilea asleep on the bench
the thrush from a hawthorn hedge sings rather
more affectedly than usual, and the half-dried
up rivulet, as it gurgles along with a low 9t.itled
murmur, resembles a gentleman who i striving
to sing " Rule Britannia" with his mouth fuli
At the door of the village ale,house, wiicre tht
stage-coachman is watering his horses, the ostler
stands busily engaged with Boots, in the discus-
sion of strong beer; both their coats are off, but
the ostler looks the greatest sufferer. In the
stable-yard, a troop of thirsty ducks, evidently
much warmer than they could have wished—are
arranging their domestic affairs previous to an
emigration towards a neighbouring horse-pond ;
an elderly turkey-cock is following them, and from
his stern and thoughtful countenance, I conclude
that he is of the Presbyterian persuasion.• From
their country house among the elms by the road-
side a colony of gnats have just alighted on the
mane and ears of the parson's blind mare, who in
Reverence
iolelvillage
oe n is
as
whattirrol troop
ecoalFrebadigt
Ira-
endeavouring to kick them off; has kicked downthe sign of the " Frog and Toothache," a public-
din his house
has had sense enough
urchins are busy following " a mad dog''—who,
rish
notwitinassgtitonaNlneVi
b when he
to elope with a mutton chop from the butcher's
stall ; he is a well-known thief, so much so, that
no dog of any respectability will be seen in his
company ; if, therefore, he should be shot for
mad, it will not much matter. Close beside a
pond on the village green, a gentleman sn.s
fishing, as yet he has caught nothing, for
the carp and trench cannot possibly be hun-
gry, and even if they were, A gang of boys
who are wading knee deep into the water
would effectually scare them away. As twilight
deepens over the village, the green becomes alive
with cricketers ; the bat moves out from his
cheerless cell, and wheels in short thick flights
round the elms ; and two slight shadows thrown
From a neighbouring style, clearly prove that pet,
sons are whiSpering there—making love no
doubt ; although the exertion at this season must
be tremendous. Another hour, and the last
chimes are ringing softened by
distance, and
heightened by the holy stillness t like
a a -boats, Le.
a spirit over the landscape, the sounds bear
about them the impress of
very
withstanding that
the sentiment is somewhat
vulgarised, by the recollection that
from a leg of mutton and trimmings, which have
been promised as a reward to the ringers. The
village clock has now struck ten : the whole
hamlet is asleep ; the nightingale has long since
hushed her song ; and the chariot of the hour
rolls along on its course over a silent and.
weary world... Reader, good night.