The Sun.
London, England, 1842-10-13 00:00:00

LITE RA TURE.

THE BE TRU T I LED. Gadd!, Edinburgh, 1842.
This is a publication, in a cumpac;, neatly
printed four-sbilling volume, of Sir Walter
Scott's tale of the •` Betrothed," which, if we re-
member rightly, was among the least popular of
his works of fiction. The tale is also reprinted
in an octavo form, and both editions contain all
the notes and intrnductions that were appended
in the series which was brought out in
,1830,
under the author's active, personal superin-
tendence.

FATHEII,OSWALD. Dolman, London, 1842,

" Father Oswald" is an answer to a work that
appeared some time ago, under the title of
" Father Clement,". and which was an attack on
the Catholic doctrines, which were objected to
with no little earnestness ; the present tale,
which professes to be an antidote to that baneful
production, of course takes the other side of the
qued,ion, and defends Catholicism in an 'eloquent,
impressive, and, at times, convincing spirit. As
a tale, it has little or nothing to recommend it,
being almost wholly devoid.of incident; but, as
a controversial work, it possesses strong claims
on the attention of the theological student.

THE ARAB BRIDE.

Bull, London, 1842.

To those who maintain that the present age is
a dull, mechanical, matter-of-fact one, utterly
destitute of poetic feeling and fancy, we would
respectfully recommend an attentive perusal of
" The Arab Bride," which will convince them
of the fallacy of their hypothesis, and induce
them—however reluctantly—toacknowledge that
a genius for the exalted and imaginative still lin-
gers among us, and that we possess at least one
poet not unworthy to chirp on the loftiest heights
of Parnassus. [he Arab Bride" is indeed a
truly surprising production, and so far as eccen-
tricity of sentiment, description, and imagery is
concerned, exhibits peculiarities, which—to quote
the elegant language of George Robins—are
" more easily conceived than described." That
we are unable to comprehend some of its more
recondite beauties, is by no means to its discre-
dit, for obscurity is a source of the sublime, and
from the very ambiguity of his language and the
Vague, exquisite incongruity of his startling me-
taphors, is to be inferred the Author's possession
Of genius of the sublimest order. . Like most
great poets, he rushes at once into the heart's
core of his subject, and introduces his hero to us
in the 'midst of a thunder-storm, which it seems,
is playing some awkward tricks with a vessel in
which he is a passenger The storm must be a
very ferocious one, if we may judge from the fol-
lOwingdescription :
" Nought now is heard save the billow knocking
'Gainst the barque's hull, now diving, now rocking,
Or the sea bird's wild and shuddering scream,
As she wingeth past, like some thing of dream ;
The wind no longer a moan as before,
Runneth through each shroud with a hollow roar,
And driveth theprow through each maddening wave
Which yawns for her prey like a hungry grave."
After the prow of the vessel has been well
dOcked-and the passengers too, we presume—
by the " maddening wave," the thunder and
lightning commence business on their own ac-
count, and get up a very pretty skriimnage, as
is duly set forth in these bewildering couplets :
" Har.k, on the welkin that low, clanging boom,
The thunder, the thunder bath burst from the womb!
Be comes on his hot and fiery steed,
He tears up the turf of Heaven's inky mead,
And darts through the jagged rent that snaky flash,
Which runs through the mast with a hideous crash,
And drags the torn hull 'neath the hissing sea,
Down into the depths of immensity !
From the whirling eddy a fearful scream
Is sent up for help to the pale moonbeam ;
But she smiles on each wretch struggling for breath,
A torch to light them to the realms of death."
Mercy on us what a sketch ! The shipwreck
of Don Juan is a mere joke to it ! We say no-
thing of' the extraordinary picture of the thunder
cantering on horseback along the sky, and tear-
ing up • the " turf" of its " inky mead ;" but
mark the harrowing description of the
drowning sailors, singing out to the moon,
and asking her it she will be good enough
to lend them a helping band, to which
modest and natural request she makes no
other reply, .than by a cold, heartless smile,
which it appears is intended to do duty as a
" torch," and light the mariners to Davy Jones's
locker !—When the ship sinks, all the crew sink
with it, except one, who is of course the hero of
the tale, and answers to the name of Morad.
Now this Morad, while swimming about in—
what Jonathan would call —" a very con-
siderable pretty particular state of perplexity,"
suddenly comes in contact with a raft—a most
unexpected but welcome godsend, by the aid of
which he contrives to keep himself afloat
lie drags each weary limb upon its side,
A Heaven-sent home where he may safely ride,
Now deeper and longer each valleys grows,
Higher and higher are each mountain's snows,
While the heaven above is a dome of fire,

Through which the thunder wanders in mad ire.
After floating about tbr some hours on the
raft, during which embarrassing period he is
filled with all sorts of strange fitncies, besides
losing his precious eye-sight,
" Hii sight is ta'en away, he cannot tell,
Whether he is going to Heaven or Hell !"
After being thus tempeSt-tossed for the best
part of four-and-twenty hours, Morad is for-
tunately cast
.ashore on a lonely island, where
he instantly falls asleep, which gives the author
an opportunity of describing the various
beauties, &c., of the island in question. It is, it
seems, crowded with " soft palm trees," and is
the sole property of
" Ali, once of Bedouin band the Lord,"

who, however, has been disowned by his tribe in
consequence of his having wedded, " contrary to
law,"ayounggentlewoman named Stella,by whom
he is the father of one daughter, named Zamora,
a remarkably good-looking girl, and whom he is
anxious to marry to " Kaled," chief of the
Bedcuin band, who had ostracized him. Ac-
cordingly he proceeds to sound the young
woman on the subject, and finds her standing
near a waterfall, watching the little fishes, and

weeping :
" The lash that hides the heavenly fire from sight,
Is dewed with tears, and dark as darkest night,
And rests upon a cheek whose velvet die
The pomegranate's best bloom could never vie ;
That brow so soft with its arches below,
As if the God of Love, on the pearl's glow,
Had traced with finger, steeped in henna's die,
A fairy hall, whence he might safely fly
His fleetest arrows thro' the maiden's eye."
The picture of the God of Love standing in a
"fairy hall," built with his own " flutter," and
taking aim with a bow and arrow at a lady's eye,
is a very impressive one, and deserves praise for its
rare originality. While Zamora is weeping, and
thinking of her absent sweetheart, who, strange
to say, 1§ ito otlivrOlan our shipwrecked friends
Norad,
- • " A hand on hers is laid,
She starts and turns her eye, is't thpu, my Sire "
4I 's reply is business-like, and remarkable
for the absence of all ceremony,
"Who PWPotild 4 1)9 he replies in ire."
He then proceeds to tell her that she must
make up her mind to marry Kaled, which of
course adds not a little to her tribulation, and
She wanders away to the sea-shore, still brooding
vpir the recollection of Morad, when on a sud-
den) to her infinite asopishment, she finds the
very man birriseK tying, tg q ftppeffrappe, on
the sands as dead as mutton With some diffi-
culty she r•az.tnre§ hint to life and consciousness,
after which the impas§ippg conpje renew
their vows of eternal constancy, and go witnilep-
jog about the island ,arm-in-arm, in a very happy
and eggitabie frame of mind. But this does not
last long, ter one One mnroing?
Paw;
Asked for his bride with haughty words, not tame ;
Hurried her weeping from her sunny. isle,
Gave for for tears a horrid, sickening smile;
And when she asked. W time to Did farewell
To each loved stream, her favin, her §llll4y 4PP,
Her father interfered, and mildly said,
' Perhaps we may return, when thou art wed.'"
This was very ungentlemanlike conduct on the
part of Kaled and Ali ; but Morad ig one of those
fierce fellows who will stand no nonsense, BO off he
goes after Zamora and her uncivil companions,
overtakes them as they are sailing' away from the
island, and engages in a desperate conflict with
them, which ends, as might be anticipated, in his
own death, and that of his idolized sweetheart.
From this brief summary of the leading incidents
of the "Arab Bride," our readers will see that it
must be a very heart-breaking production ; and
the quotations we have made from it will con-
vince them that its poetical qualities are of the
rarest and most effective character. Indeed we
give the poem no higher praise than is its due,
whevive say that it is quite as original as any.
thing recorded in D'lsraeli's "Curiosities of Li.
terature."

SCHONBERG'S CHAIN RULE.
Effingham Wilson.
The great virtue of early arithmetical studies
consists in the exercise which they give to the
reasoning. faculties; and the minute thesis and
its accompaoying solution, known by the name
of " u sum," is the best tea of youthful powers.
The subtlest, therefore, but the plainost method,
by which an arithmetical question can be worked
out, should assuredly be that adopted, according
to the greater degree that it tends to improve
and sharpen the capacity. ThiS is the ollject of

Mr. Schonberg's Chain Rule. On examination
'it appears to us to po.isess mnch advantage over
the ordinary means of calculation. Agreeably
with its name, the links of the process, as ad-
duced by the Chain Rule, are clearly seen, and
the sequences of cause, effect, and4iane involved
in the numeration in hand, are tracedby the mind
of the student, in a manner which cannot tail of
causing a perspicuous understanding of the same.
This principle of linking is its great and excellent
feature. The original use of the Chain Rule me-
thod of arithmetic was made, we believe, by one
Adam Ries so early as 1579, and subsequently'
on the Continent has been much used by com-
mercial men and conductors of schools. Our
English arithmeticians appear only to have con-
sidered it applicable to exchange, but the exam-
ples given by Mr. Schonberg in his valuable little
manual, amply evince the universality of its use.

BOOK OF,BRITISH BALLADS, Part V.
flow, London, 1842.
Among other choice ballads, the present Part
contains Coleridge's fur-filmed poem of '' Gene-
vieve," one of the most perfect love-songs in the
language, being superior even to the best of
Moore's amorous effusions. The Part is beauti-
fully embellished with a variety of the choicest
and most costly engravings,

IlAclanitvr
arnyo
causes have
OF THE
eE sbeoeßr
attributedtn E!
present depressed condition of trade and manufac-
tures n
A great I
A forY St. h
(a e
tures throughout the country, but the withering
effects produced by the extension of the railway
system of travelling, and its share in producing the
existing distress and want of employment, appears
to a great extent to have been altogether lost sight
of. A Correspondent, whose professional pursuits re-
quire him to go over a considerable extent Of coun-
try, and who is well acquainted with the former con-
dition of the districts and roads now superseded by
railways, and also aware of their present state, has
furnished us with a few particulars which may, per-
haps, not be thought unimportant at the prescLt time.
It is already well known that the great railways that
have been opened have completely destroyed the
coaching and posting business, and have also, to a
very great extent, ruined the inns upon the old lines
of road ; and it is not at all an exaggeration to say,
that the whole of the country upon the Northern,
Western, and, in fact, every other line that is op-
posed by a railway, is reduced to a most miserable
condition. It is not the mere removal of the posting
and coaching from the road that is to be considered,
but the effects upon every branch of trade and indus-
try, caused by the destruction of the old accustomed
mode of transit. One example from each line of railway
will show the dreadful consequences of the change
that has taken place. In the town of Hounslow,
which was the first stage on the Great Western
road, there used to be kept, for the purposes
of coaching and posting, before the railway was
introduced, two thousand five hundred horses. Any
persons acquainted with the nature of the business is
aware that it would not be by any means an exagge-
ration to say that every one of those horses for keep,
duty, shoeing, ostlers, harness, "&c., caused an outlay
of two pounds per week, so that there was a sum of
5,0001. circulated every week in this one district,
besides the money that was spent by travellers in the
different inns ; and a very considerable portion of that
amount was paid for labour, and distributed among
the different tradesmen, every one of whom was bene-
fited either directly or indirectly. At the present
time there are not seventy horses kept for the same
purposes, for which twenty-five hundred were for-
merly profitably employed, and these seventy, instead
of being kept liberally, as formerly, are, owing to the
little employment for them, merely, as it were, pay-
ing their expenses. The consequence of the change
necessarily has been, that every trade in the town has
suffered, and hundreds of persons, formerly earning a
respectable livelihood by their exertions, find their
means of existence completely crippled, and the con-
sequent distress and want of means thus created, may
very naturally be conceived. This state of things on
the first stage of the western road will serve as an ex-
ample for the whole of the remaining distance, as,
of tourse, an equal number of horses were
required all the way down the road, and the effect,
therefore, has been equally destructive upon all the
towns which were formerly thriving and prosperous,
and the solitude and almost desolation that now pre-
vail in these formerly flourishing places, can hardly
be described. When it is recollected that the same
effect has been produced right through the country
for nearly two hundred miles, the necessary result has
been, that every class has been impoverished, and their
means of existence almost annihilated. On the
northern road an almost equally disastrous effect has
been produced. At Barnet, where, formerly; three or
four hundred pairs of post-horses were constantly
kept, together with an immense number of coach-
horses, the loss of the traffic, and the circulation of
the money connected with it, has been the means of
throwing hundreds of labourers out of employ, and ail
the trades specially dependent upon it are almost an-
nihilated, and thus a vast amount of misery has been
created. To the town of St. Albans the same obser-
vations apply with equal, if not greater force ; indeed,
this once thriving and prosperous town is• literally
ruined, and such is its solitude, that it may almost he
said that grass is growing in the principal streets.
That these statements are correct every one who has
recently travelled to these places can bear witness ;
and under such circumstances it is not very difficult
to imagine that they must, to a great extent, be the
cause o much of the distress and want of trade and
employment which at present, unhaPPil-Y, exists
throughout the country.
D-- - - -.—Th;'

EATII OF THE MURDERER JESSUP.---ThiS
He has gradually got worse sine° Tuesday, having
Un-
happy man expired yesterday morning at half-past one.
been seized with bleeding from the throat, neverthe-
less he was able to express by signs last night, at nine
o'clock, that he wanted to write. Mr. Cock, surgeon,
,-
instantly handed a pencil and paper to him, and be
was just able to write the word i knife.'
Mr. Cock
having asked what he meant, he made a motion with
both his hands, giving him to understand that it was
a fleshing knife he wanted, a knife used in the leather
dressing business. It was sufficiently evident from
this that he was insane. He gradually got worse
after that, displaying great uneasiness, by throwing
his arms and legs about in a violent manner, lie was
attended by police constable-Wenver, 2774.1:, till death
ended his sufferings.

A FoaTuNATEDtscovEitY.—A singular discovery
of theft was made last week. In the month of July last
a butcher, in the Quartier St. Honore, was robbed of
a sum of 6,600 f., a
a suspicion havinv
~, fallen upon one
of his men, who slept in the
house,
lie was arrested,
but, as none of the property was found upon him, and
was excellent, he was soon set
at liberty. From that time this person has been living
his previous character
in Paris with great regularity until within these few
(lays, when he quitted the capital and went to a place at
a distance of about two leagues between La Folk and
Nanterre. There he began
a search for something
him, but so large a quail,
tbhyrown on the spot from the
that ho was compelled to
prAenra the assistance 0 two men; to whom he pro-
vtt
ihllt that tt i
of
faa
sd earth beenof t
had
dn
1711eeiaei concealed 1:4
011
who had
and in
mised a liberal reward for their labour, but vvithout
was seeking. At length
gsat
teaolllsi, leemongtaoni them
,ehoi
tembot
onhhxliNso• what ttn,
rtoaetbiejnrmei:c:
Igtny
ah
stle
111 0
Nith•htliclnh
eihi einheiiiid_
his joy he
had h e had
concealed, recovered n 4
.b l
i e -
had assisted him sf,
through
ere
Toi
u;passedgaiindth,
their
the evnienNa-endrinugnkartatahepr
stepping,dAletz. On thc,
4reel told them that
h°l
sae with
I arget shuu: ei
and mentioned
of money whichleahnes
followingt ha t lie was
morning,the next day
00;10 the circHrpqnpp tg a hriktadier of Gendarmerie,
who ma4e a fepArt of it to the Prefecture of Pollee at
Paris, There the description of .
the mysterious
money-hider was found to correspond with that
tuken
in 41y fecgt the butoher'§, allq luttirroatton was sent
to the arrest
of an old-established Club at the
out of the
diligence at that place. The stolen money was all
found upon him with the e4cePti°ll 0' about woe.
of
fff
the offender
tql egrap hj :slat
atsiNieht 2,e
was which
West-end of the town has absconded with a consider-
able sum of money.
The beeretary
Unsuccessful speculation is-stint
posed to be the CAM F ..'
Tile thrsPs or Tutil*Tlw "EsT.--This remark-
able class of people frequent the above Royal domain
at all seasons of the year, but more particularly in the
spring and autumn. Their chief trade Is in the
.N,3w
Forest ponies,
which in the autumn of the year are
caught up by the keepers, and .exposed to sale for the
benefit of the Government. the Forest Court is held
at Lyndhurst, and the Commissioners of Woods and
Forests are the parties to be appealed to in all instances
ut demurrage, The Gypsies have no locum tenemi in the
New Forest, but they locate in its adjunctive neigh-
bourhood, and their conduct is well worthy of admire.
tion. When the Gypsies return from the Forest, they for
the most part inhabit the lanes and by-ways contiguous
to farmhouses. They on such occasions apply to the
nearest farmer for a fevv trusses of straw for their lit-
ter. This boon is usually granted, and not one aingle
article of his property is found missing while these
vagrant supplloanta remain on. the outskirts of the
premises. The farmers consider themselves, as to
their homesteads and property, always safe when
Gypsies are encamped near them ; but there is a fear-
ful gang of poachers and deer and sheep-stealers all
round the New Forest, which paralyzes the colifi-
dence of the farmer in the belief of himself and his
own, The Gypsies have been ever considered a dark
Those and mysterious community. who know them
and their ways, habits, and customs best, ere the best
to appreciate their claim 0 RAW 4131hig on the part
of those who have PNEerio"°4 their
singular
ways.
A farmer considers a tinsY a good Watch-dog vllilst
the latter lingers around his premises; but 4 ii noigh., I
boar" he 10010 upon as being well worthy of watching,
his
g od
ienPag departures
i