The Sun.
London, England, 1827-06-28 00:00:00

'ORTS.

IMPORTED.

Same pell
This riod last
year. year.

Bags, &c. Bags, &c.
Liverpool 420,308 264,115
Lcn don 36,532 40,638
Glasgow 31,167 14,164
Total exported in 1827

EXPORTED.
Previous.
ly this
year.
Bags, Encc. Bags, &r.
1,211 9,,4
1,085 19,880
-90

~ 32,263.

PRICES OF FOREIGN GRAIN.

(From the Moniteur.)
MINISTRY OF THE INTERIOR.
Account of the average price of the hectolitre of
*heat in different places abroad, according to the most re.
cent returns received at the Home Office :
Places. Dates. Prices.
London
Dantzic . ......
Stetten May 15............ 11f. 41c.
Copenhagen April 15
Amsterdam May lb l3f. 99c.
Trieste May 15 l2f. 46c.
Naples April 15
C i vita Vecchia... April 15
Milan
Nice May 15 lBf. 66c.
New York let quarter 1827.. 14f. 22c.
New Orleans
France March 31

We perceive a Musical Work, by Ware, is j ust
published, entitled the Theoretical and Practical
Singing Instructor, which does infinite credit to
the author's talent as a composer. It contains, in
a little compass, the passages and cadences as used
by the late Mrs. Billington, Madame Catalani,
Misses Stephens, Paton, Love, and Madame
requisite information relating
Pasta, with every
thereto ; independent of their excellence as prac-
tical passages to facilitate execution, they are
most judicious and elegant, and will prove a
valuable study to the young vocalist.

The following extraordinary and interesting ac-
count of an Irishman born With a tail, and of the
successful removal of the superfluous member, is ex-
tracted from a paper lately published in the fourth
volume of the Dublin Hospital Reports, by Dr:
Jacob, a distinguished physician and lecturer on ana-
tomy, in the city of Dublin. Dr. Jacob says—" I
am indebted to, my father for the specimen of re-
markable monstrosity which forms the subject of the
present notice. In the course of last summer a
young man presented himself at the Queen's County
Infirmary, seeking relief on ' account of a tumour
which projected between the nates, and caused much
inconvenience from its bulk, , especially in a sitting
posture. It had existed from birth, was about the
size of the closed hand of a large man, and was si-
tuated, upon the lower part of the sacrum,apparently
involving the or coccygis. Upon its most convex
part was an orifice, through which the finger could
be introduced and passed round an irregular resisting
body, which partly projected through its opening.
The surface was covered by sound skin, furnished
with a considerable quantity of hair. The opera-
tion of removing it was performed by my father. On
dividing the external layer, it appeared that this was
merely a pouch of skin, reflected inwardly, and em-
bracing a cylindrical body nearly six inches long,
thicker than the thumb, and covered with true skin.
This extraordinary production adhered firmly by one
extremity to the spine, and upon attempting to de-
tach it, the connexion was' found to be osseous; the,
bone, however, was so spongy as to yield to the
knife. The superfluous skin having been removed,
the lips of the wound were brought together, and it
healed satisfactorily, leaving the patient free from
distress on this account. When the pouch was first
divided, and the contained member fully• displayed,
its appearance was so characteristic that no doubt
was entertained of its being a real tail, which has since
caused considerable merriment. However unwilling
I may be to disappoint the hopes of those who have
been in expectation of an homo ferns caudatus Hiber-
nus, to place beside the juvenis feria ovimus Hiber-
nus of the System Naturce of Linnaeus (cura
Gmelin), I must say that I doubt whether the
pretensions of this individual to such a distinction
be well founded. That it resembled a tail in all
its external characters I admit, but dissection'
proves that the bones which occupy the centre bear
no resemblance to vertebrae, but are such as may belong
to a man's great toe. It appears to be an example of
that description of monstrosity which has been ob-
served in other situations—a rudiment or portion of
an additional member." •The author, after giving
several very curious instances of supernumerary
limbs, goes on—" The records of medical science
contain several examples of tail-bearing men.t In
the Miscell. Curios. Aced. Naturce (anno 1690,
p. 222), we have an account of an homo caudatus,
by Emanuel Konig; the subject was the' son of a
doctor of laws, and his tail, which was half a span
long, grew directly down from the os coccygis, and
was coiled toward the perinceum, causing'much dis-
comfort. Stephen Blancardus, of Amsterdam, in a
work which I have seen, states, that he had exa-
mined a man from whose sacrum a tail depended,
fully a span in length. In the same Miscellan.
Curios. (afino 1441); we have a communication
from Michael Lockner, de pucro caudato, which
being_very brief, and written in a merry vein, is, I
think, entitled to credit. I therefore subjoin it
without apolovy Puer annorum octo gracilis ad-
parentibus concomitantibus °rum,
implorat, sciscitor morbum, nett 1 altum si-
lentium t tandem remotis nempe caligi visui
tune prope hediam se offert excrescentia oblonga ey-
lindrica rigiducula deorsum intra dunes inflectenda
mobilis, longitudinis digiti medii crassitie pollicis,
&c Amputationem anxie desiderant. Me
renuente amputationemque dissuadente, parentes
cum ascaniolo caudato recedunt.'. I have been as-
sured by a person of undoubted veracity, who states
the fact from actual observation, that he knows an
individual, who has a production or continuation of
the os coccygis, of such a length as to cause great
inconvenience when the person sits down, and that
several members of the same family have a similar
appendage. Whatever doubts may be entertained
respecting . these productions, there can be none,
that this is the first instance where the doubtful
member has been successfully amputated, and the
patient freed from discomfort and reproach.

* This variety of the human race has been established
on the following notable relation of Nicholas Tulpius (Ohs.
Med. lib. 4. c. 10.), headed Juvenis Ralans :—" Allatus
Amstelredamum omniumque oculis expositus fuit, adoles-
cens sedecem annorum, qui, in Hibernia a parentibus
forte devius, inter oyes sylvestres, ab incunabulis altus in..
duerat quasi naturam ovillam. Rudis et exsors (minis hu-
manitati9, cmtera smuts destitutus vocis humans! halabat
instar ovis, et aversatus cibum potumque nobis usitatuns,
manducahat solum grainen et fcenum, et quidem eo delectu
quo curiosissimne over."'

It is remarkable that these examples should have
escaped the notice of Lord blonboddo, anxious as he was
to prove the existence of homiucs caudati. The instances
brought forward by him are evidently derived from fabulous
sources.

GITEENOCIC POLICE COURT.—The master
of one of the steam-boats, for not sailing at the
hour mentioned on the boards used for pointing
out the hours of sailing 'to the public, was fined
ss.—Glasgow Herald.

THE OLD TRADESMAN IN THE COUNTRY.
—He now and then found himself terribly at a
loss to get through the day, especially if it hap-
pened to be a rainy one. He felt that a man
who has been for many years enraged in active
absorbing pursuits, and conversant with busy
bustling faces, finds nothing so difficult to do as
to do nothing, and no company more irksome to
be restricted to than his own. Idleness, in fact,
requires a regular apprenticeship, and is seldom
well performed, except by those who are born
and bred to the business. " Adzooks !" he ex-
claimed one (lay, as he soliloquized up and down
his gravel walk, « when one has stood upon
'Change, talked to brokers, and made two hun-
dred pounds in a morning, it is bad enough to
sit in a sunny field, prattle to buttercups and
daffodils, and get nothing after all but a cold.
But what am I to do in the winter when my
neighbours are all shooting away Time with their
fowling-pieces, or hunting him down with dogs
a
I can't perch upon a gate and
oL i nhgo -rps icese ?e s ,
whistle like a blackbird, nor hop about looking
for crumbs like a robin redbreast, nor squat down
in the fern like a hare, nor stand in the snow
chewing the cud like a cow, nor go to bed like
a dormouse, and tell Timothy to call me next
for a sleety morning at Christmas?
spring. Oh!
Give me the fire-side corner at Jonathan's, with
a pint of niull'd lamb's-wool, and
a fresh pipe,
the Weekly courant. Green lanes are certainly
very pretty things, but one sadly misses the
foot-pavement, and the shops on each side, and
the lamps ; you can't hold up your finger for a
i
hackney-coach if caught n a shower, nor call
the watch and spring half-a-dozen rattles in as
many minutes, if any one threatens to assault
you. For the summer the country may be a
very ingenious contrivance ; but I shall never
be able to get through the winter here."—Reuben
Apsley.

How fair the scene ! the sunny smiles of day
Flash o'er the wave in glad Sorrento's bay ;
Far, far along mild Sarno's glancing stream,
The fruits and flowers of golden Summer beam,
And cheer, with brightening hues, the lonely gloom,
That shrouds yon silent City of the Tomb !
Yes, sad Pompeii ! Time's deep shadows fall
On every ruin'd arch and broken wall;
But Nature smiles as in thy happiest hour,
And decks thy lowly rest with many a flower.
Around, above, in blended beauty shine .
The graceful poplar and the clasping vine; '
Still the young violet, in her chalice blue,
Beals to the lip of Morn her votive dew;
Still the green laurel springs to life the while,
Beneath her own Apollo's golden smile;
And o'er thy fallen glories beams pn high
The Beauty of the Heavens—ltalia's sky !
How fair the scene ! even now to Fancy's gaze
Return the shadowy forms of other days :
Those halls, of old with mirth and music rife,
Those echoing streets that teem'd with joyous life,
And
dd
steebelligthrietybmanrekest tblen int,
as
The.stately towers that rose along the plain,
turf:Pt hteycori essti Invuetrys hTclat
Pompeii's joyous sons and graceful maids,
Weave the light dance—the rosy chaplet twine,
Or snatch the cluster from the weary vine;
Nor think that Death can haunt so fair a scene,
The Heaven's deep blue, the Earth's unsullied green.
Devoted City ! could not aught avail
When the dark omen 11' told thy fearful tale ?
The giant phantom dimly seen to glide,
And the loud voice that shook the mountain side,
With warning tones that bade thy children roam,
To seek in happier climes a calmer home?
In vain ! they will not break the fatal rest
That woos them to the mountain's treacherous breast :
Fond memory blends with every 'mossy stone
Some early joy, some tale of pleasure flown ;
And they must die where those around will weep,
And sleep for ever where their fathers sleep.
Yes ! they must die : behold ; yon gathering gloom
Brings on the fearful silence of the tomb;
Along Campania's sky yon murky cloud
Spreads its dark form—a City's funeral shroud.
How brightly rose Pompeii's latest day !
The. Sun, unclouded, held his golden way,—
Vineyards, in Autumn's purple glories drest,
Slept in soft beauty on the mountain's breast;
The gale that wanton'd round his crested brow,
Shook living fragrance from the blossom'd bough ;
And many a laughing mead and silvery stream
Drank the deep lustre of the noonday beam :
Then echoing Music rang, and Mirth grew loud
In the glad voices of the festal crowd ;
The opening Theatre's wide gates invite,
The choral dance is there, the solemn
There breathes th' immortal Muse her spell around,
And swelling thousands flood the fated ground.
See! where arise before th' enraptur'd throng,
The fabled scenes, the shadowy forms of Song !
Gods, that with Heroes leave their starry bowers,
Their fragrant hair entwin'd with radiant flowers,
Haunt the dim grove, beside the fountain dwell—
Strike the deep lyre, or sound the wreathed shell—
With forms of heavenly mould : but hearts that glow
With human passion, melt with human woe ;
Breathless they gaze, while white. rob'd priests advance,
And graceful virgins lead the sacred dance ; • '
They listen mute, while mingling tones prolong
The lofty accent, and the pealing song.
Echo th' unbending Titan's haughty groan,
or in the Colchian's woes forget their own !
Why feels each-throbbing heart that shuddering chill?
The Music falters, and the Dance is still—
" Is it pale Twilight stealing o'er the plain ?
" Or starless Eve that holds unwonted reign?"
Hark to the thrilling answer who shall tell
When thick and fast th' unsparing tempest fell,
And stern Vesuvius pour'd along the vale
His molten cataracts, and his burning hail :
Oh ! who shall paint; in that o'erwhelming hour,
Death's varying forms, and Horror's withering power ?
Earthquake! wild Earthquake ! rends that heaving plain,
Cleaves the firm rock, and swells the beetling main :
Here, yawns the ready grave, and, raging, leap
Earth's secret fountains from their troubled sleep ;
There, from the quivering mountain bursts on high
The pillar'd flame, that wars along the sky!
On, on they press, and maddening seek in vain
Some soothing refuge from the fiery rain ;--
Their home ? it can but yield a living tomb,
Round the lov'd hearth is brooding deepest gloom ;
Yon sea? its angry surges scorching rave,
And Deathfires gleam upon the ruddy wave :
Oh ! for one breath of that reviving gale,
That swept at dewy morn, along the vale !
For one sad glance of their beloved sky,
To soothe, though vain, their parting agony !
yen mother bows in vain her shuddering form,
Her babe to shield from that relentless storm
Cold are those limbs her clasping arms constrain, ,
Even the soft shelter of her breast is vain !
Gaze on that form ; 'tis Beauty's softest maid,
The rose's rival in her native shade
For her had Pleasure rear'd her fairest bowers,
And Song and Dance had sped the laughing hours :
See ! o'er her brew the kindling ashes glow,
And the red shower o'erwhelms her breast of snow ;
She seeks that lov'd one—never false till then ;
She calls on hint_who answers not again :
Loose o'er her bosom flames her golden hair,
And every thrilling accent breathes despair !
Even the stern priest, who' saw with raptur'd view, •
The deathless forms of Heaven's etherial blue,
Who drank, with glowing ear the mistic tone,
That clothed his lips with wonders not their own,
Beheld the immortal marble frown in vain,
And fires triumphant grasp the sacred fane,
Forsook at last the unavailing shrine,
And eurs'd his faithless gods—no more divine!
Morn came in beauty still—and shone as fair,
Though cold the hearts that haird its radiance there,
And Evening, crown'd with many a starry gem,
Sent down her softest smile—though not for them !
gleaned afar Pompeii's graceful towers,
and vale were clothed with vintage-bowers,
Where hill
irra dark waste the smouldering ashes spread
.A pall above the dying and the dead.
Still the dim City slept in safest shade,
Though the wild waves another Queen obey'd,
And sad Italia, on her angry shore,
Beheld the North its ruthless myriads pour !
And Nature scattered all her treasures round,
And grac'd with fairest hues the blighted ground.
There oft, at glowing noon, the village maid
Sought the deep shelter of the vineyard shade;
Beheld the olive bud--the wild-flower wave,
melts away !
IBN,bnoetr
skiEry ohnmecerissintteoopfre beneath
ag the smiles of day,
was
on a people's grave !
Again Pompeii, 'mid the brightening gloom.
Comes forth in beauty from her lonely tomb.
Lovely in ruin—graceful in decay,
The silent City rears her walls of grey :
The clasping ivy hangs her faitlifirl shade,
As if to hide the wreck that Time had made ;
The scattered column on the lonely ground,
Is glittering still, with fresh acanthus crown'd ;
And where her Parian rival moulders near,
The drooping lily pours her softest tear !
How sadly sweet with pensive step to roam
Amid the ruin'd wall, the tottering dome !
The path just worn by human feet is here :
Their echoes almost reach the listening ear
The marble hall with rich mosaic drest;
The portal wide that woos the lingering guest :
Altars, withiresh and living chaplets crown'd,
From those wild flowers that spring fantastic round,

* Dio Cassius, lxvi. relates, that previously to the de-
struction of the city, figures of gigantic size were seen hover-
ing in the air, and that a voice like the sound of a trumpet
was often heard. Probably the imagination of the in-
habitants invested with human figure the vapours that pre-
ceded the eruption.

The unfinish'd painting, and the pallet nigh,
Whose added hues must fairer charms supply
These mingle here, until th' unconscious feet -
Roam on, intent some gathering crowd to meet ;.
And cheated Fancy, in her dreamy mood,
Will half forget that all is solitude !
Yes, all is solitude! fear not to tread
Through gates unwatch'd—the City of the Dead!!
Explore, with pausing step; th' unpeopl'd path—
View the proud hall—survey the stately bath,
Where swelling roofs their noblest Shelter raise ;
Enter !—no voice shall check th' intruder's gaze !
See !—the dread legion's peaceful home is here,
The signs of martial life are scatter'd near.
Yon helm, unclasp'd to ease some warrior's brow,
The sword his weary arm resign'd but now,
Tb' unfinish'd sentence trac'd along the wall,
Broke by the hoarse Centurion's startling call :
Hark!—did their sounding tramp re-echo round?
Or breath'd the hollow gale that fancied sound? •
Behold ! where mid' yon fane, so long divine,
Sad Isis mourns her desolated shrine!
Will none the mellow reed's soft music breathe?
Or twine from yonder flowers the victim's wreath ?
None to yon altar lead, with suppliant strain,
The milk-white monarch of the herd again ?
All—all is mute ! save sadly answering nigh
The nightbird's shriek, the shrill cicala's cry.
Yet may you trace along the furrow'd street
The chariot's track—the print of frequent feet,
The gate unclos'd, as if by recent hand ;
The hearth, where yet the guardian Lares stand :
Still on the wall the vvordst of welcome shine,
Aud reedy vasest proffer joyous wine.
But where the hum of men—the sounds of life—
The Temple's pageant, and the Forum's strife?—
The forms and voices, such as should belong
To that bright clime, the land of Love and Song ?
How sadly echoing to the stranger's tread
These walls respond, like voices from the dead.
And sadder traces—darker scenes are there,
Tales of the tomb, and records of despair ;
In Death's chill grasp unconscious arms enfold
The fatal burthen of their cherished gold,§
Here, wasted relics, as in mockery, dwell
Beside some treasure lov'd in life too well;
There, faithful hearts have moulder'd side by side,
And hands are clasp'd that Death could not divide!
None, none shall tell that hour of fearful strife,
When Death must share the consciousness of Life;
When sullen Famine, slow Despair consume
The living tenants of the massive tomb;
Long could they hear above th' incumbent plain,
The music of the breeze awake again,
The wave's deep echo on the distant shore,
And murmuring streams, that they should see no more!
Away ; dread scene ! and o'er the harrowing view
Let Night's dim shadows fling their darkest hue!
But there, if still beneath some nameless stone,
By waving weeds and ivy-wreaths o'ergrown,
Lurk the grey spoils of Poet or of Sage,
Tully's deep lore, or Livy's pictur'd page ;
If sweet Menander, where his relics fade,
Mourn the dark refuge of Oblivion's shade;
Oh ! may their treasures burst the darkling mine!
Glow in the living voice, the breathing line !
Their vestal fire our midnight lamp illume.
And kindle Learning's torch from sad Pompeii ,e tomb !
j' On many of the walls the word, Salve is carved over
the door.

The amphora which contained wine still remain, and
the marble slabs are marked with cups and glasses. —Eustace.
§ At the door of the court of one of the houses skeletons
were found, one with a key, another with a purse.—
Eustace.

NATIONAL SOCIETY.-The General Corn-
inittee of the National Society for the Educa-
' tion of the Poor in the principles of the Esta-
blished Church, held their meeting yesterday at
St. Martin's Vestry-room. Present the Lord
Bishops of London, St. Asaph, and Bristol,
Lord Kenyon, Sir James Laugharn, Bart., Rev.
Archdeacon Cambridge, and other Members of
the Committee, when nine new Schools were
united to the Society, and several grants of
money were voted, in sums from 201. to 1501.,
for building and fitting up of School-rooms, in
addition to 5001. for the populous and important
parishes of St. Giles's-in-the-Fields, and St.'
George's, 13loomsbury. •
KEAN'S COTTAGE AT BUTE.-The banks of
Loch Fad now swarm with pilgrims to the re-
sidence of our greatest dramatic performer, who
has kindly instructed the old lady—a native of
London---who acts as guardian of the premises,
to allow all respectable persons who may call, a
full view of the Cottage and grounds. Nothing
can be more rurally simple, and at the same time
more tasteful and elegant, than the residence here
erected by Kean. It is a tolerably capacious
house, two stories in height, with a small one-
story building at either end. On the ground
floor is a splendid dining room, furnished in a
costly manner, as is every other part of the house,
and behind it is a library, stocked with a valuable
collection of books, among which are several
containing fine engravings of the costumes of
different countries at different periods, and also
the works of Hogarth, Hume, Gibbon, Robert-
son, &c., a fine edition of the Spectator, and a
beautiful old copy of Shakspeare in one volume
folio, printed about the middle of the seven-
teenth century, and presented to Kean by Mr.
Price, the manager of the New York Theatre.
In the library are also many items of the para-
phernalia of an actor--such as swords, daggers,
&c., besides an excellent engraving of Kean in
Brutus, one of Garrick, one of the Earl of Essex,
and several others of distinguished British cha-
racters. Within a niche in the lobby stands an ad-
mirable bust of Kean, also in the character of
Brutus, which, as an accurate resemblance, ex-
ceeds the engraving. On the second floor, or
upper story, is a large drawing room, elegantly
fitted up, and in a style entirely dramatic—in so
far at least as regards the fancy papers with which
the wall is decorated, these being full of scenic
representations of character, most of them taken
from prominent subjects in history and mytho-
logy. From the windows of this apartment an
enchanting view is obtained of Loch Fad, and
of the expanse of land and sea to southward, the
remembrance of which can never be lost by
those who once have seen it. Indeed no language
can do justice to the varied charms of the si-
tuation ;—it must be seen to be fully appreciated.
The garden and grounds are laid out in a style
displaying the finest perception of the beauties of
the place. Here a soft flower blooms in the hard
cleft of some jagged rock ; there a walk,
edged with boxwood, winds along amid sinuosi-
ties so serpentine as almost to render a continu-
ous walk impossible ; and on the top of the
eminence at the base of which the cottage is
situated, there stands a fog-house, supported by
massy rustic pillars, its floor paved with small
pebbles from the Loch, its seats supported by
hazle cuttings, and • its prospect in front com-
manding a few glimpses of Loch Fad, an indis-
tinct view of. Rothsay in the distance, of the
tranquil bay beyond it, and of the Argyle moun-
tains still more remote, swimming in a kind of
blue haze, that softens their outline, and imparts
to them a character of almost perfect ideality.
Such are the more prominent particulars relating
to Kean's cottage.--Glasgow Free Press.