The Sun.
London, England, 1842-09-01 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, THURSDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 1, 1842.

Itttion at Tamworth, and by that mode of convey-
ice would reach Darlinffton this evening, and fryrn
t-L;:nce would proceed by post to Dalkeith, nearly

6Q miles.
The Earl of Aberdeen will not reach here before
to-morrow afternoon.

Sir James Graham, it is expected, will be unable,
froze a press of business, to come tg_Seotland.
DALKEITH IJ&)USE, MONDAY:

Ifr the course of to-morrow the noble and clistin-
guiltraci visitors Invited to meet her Majesty and his
ktoya. Highness Prince Albert will 'all arrive.

Now ready, in 3 vols. post Bvo.,
DOCTA)R HOOKWELL;
OR, THE ANGLO-CATHOLIC FAMILY.
A NOVEL.
Richard Bentley, New Burlington-street.
* " To be had at all the Libraries.

THEATRE RbYAL, COVENT-GARDEN.
The Public-is respectfully informed that this Theatre will
OPEN FO lt THE SEASON
Cn SATUUDAY NEXT, SEPTEMBER 3, 1841,
Will be I:.•rforinc.l Beßini's Opera of N ()BMA.— Pollio, Mr. W.
11411,03 ; -t ,roveso' Mr. Giubil'i; Flavius, Mr. Binge; N'rma, Miss
\Ade
Atli
Kemble; Adalgisa, Miss It-in forth ; Clot ilda, Miss Lane.
whit.h wiet be Int Mused a New Came: y, in Two Arts, writ-
- test be BMA gl 4 i Jerrold:E.,q., entitled 6EII FR IT DE'S CHER:RIES,
OW WAV.IILGO IN 1825 Willo ighby, Mr. Bartley; Vincent,
• DI W. Lacy ;. Gitibert, Mr. addear ; Jack Halcyon, sir. Har ey ;
Igo
none, trir. Meadows; Angelica, Miss Cooper; Mrs. Crosabone,
. rt.:•kiiiiribv ; Gertrude. Mrs. W. Lacy.
' P open at half-past six, and the Performances begin at Seven.
S- WMp.7.,,,, 75.. Second Price 3s. 6d ; First and SecondCitcles 55.,
't' Price as. 6d.; Pi:Ss.' Second Price `s. ; Gallery Is. Tickets
*id Ali ,or its. Loxes to be taken of Sir. Whitlow, at the Box.
CI . f:ora Ten till Four, where Season Tickets may be had.
Prifate Bcxes to be had at .'he Box-Otti e; of Mr. Andrews,
,-pn. New Pond-street; Mr. Mitchell, Old Bond street; anti of Mr.
-111ii:is Pali Mall.

IHEATRE-ROYAL, ENGLISH OPERA-HOUSE.
THIS EVENING, SEI'TE 11BER 1.
FOR HE BENEFIT OF MR. F. M Arl HEWS.
-$7:l-i be performed, the Dr ma of CHARLES TH TWELFTH.
4,41 r It, Mrs. Planche's Van- eville of THE. WELSH GIRL.
To be followed by the Ballet of LA SYLPHIDE.
• Donald, Mr. Gilbert; the Iph, Miss Pallin.
Jo the course cf the Evening, Miss Lucombe will sing the cele-
brrlted Scene from " Der Fri ischutz," " Auld Robin Gray ; and
Yr. Ilidgwav " The Chinee War," and Tippitywitchet."
Td conclude with the Farce f FOR t Y AND FIFTY.
nmcc;.g. 45. ht, 9.5.- Gallery, Is. Doors even at half-past Six ;
Me. anto ice at Seven; Half-price, a Quartefbefore Nine .
-11Pn V:1 Ee tkoces to be had of Mr. Grogan, at the Private Box-office;
and of '.'•lessrt. Andrews, Mitchell, Sams, and Batty, at their Libraries.

DAVIDGE'S ROYAL SURREY THEATRE.
• Immense attraction. Ihe Opera Company in Two Pieces.
THIS EVENING, SEPTEMBER 1,
be presented LOVE IN A VILLAGE. To which will be
~ the solend'd New Oran:, Fairy Opera, entitled LITTLE
ADING HOOD —The Overture, and the whole of the Mo.
conries, d by Mrs. Q. a'Becket, and executed by Miss itomer.
Mr. W. Harrison, Mr. Leffler, an increas'd Band and
conducted be Mr. G. Stansbury.
runcitide with Mr. Bruton's celebrated Farce, entitled BATH.
174 in which Mr. G. Wild will perform his original Character,
7,as and Private Soxes may be r ad of Mr. J. Kerschner, at the
.x Wilco, from Eleven till Four daily.

()PAL SURREY ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.
Girandola will commence this week at Half-cast Eight
D EVE4ING FETES, MONDAY, TUESDAY, and
141;RA.I.AY, with-the tbllow.iug matchless combination of uniq.e
ett:rantlws
Thce eletTated MENAGERIE, reendly enriched by several Zoo.
Je.4;:eal raritios.
' 'rue 'ituptridous TYPOR AM IC MODEL ALFRESCO of ROME
hunt t!-Ie left Intik of the Tiber.
'.hire PROW,ENADES oSICALES by the unrivalled Bind of
W:tid Instruivents, coreucted by Mr. Godfrey including Berlioz'
Vverture Fantre,tique, "Les Francs Juges ;" a New Grand Fantasia
Ir. Muller; the Selections from Acis and Galatea," and "Oberon ;"
.SsePtiboven's Grand_" Wattle Sinfonia," with its extraordinary idci.
dental effects; and a variety of popular pieces
4fre eth2 Concert the Illumination of st. Peter's, and the Giran.
ec,!a of -Saint Angelo, with Southby's magnificent Pyrotechnic Spec-
rtsdlw, Extraordirettry Aquatic Fireworks en the Lake, and Superb
t'ateasti of Fire.
Adz, 'ssion to the whole of the Entertainments, One Shilling.
Open; 4 Ten in [he :corning.—Feeding at Five.—Concert at Half-
rast fle% .—Fireworks at Halr.rst Eight,

' WATER AT I NDON BRIDGE THIS DAY.
. 9 mir es after 15 I Evening, .....49 minutes after 10.

P Veg nate

LONDON :

11111RSD,•tY MOTZI,TING, SEPTEMBER 1, 1842.

~~.

Tha member 4 or'; T the' Anti-Corn-law League
sea rcely show vigour enough, we think, in
returning the blows of their antagonists.
They are fiercely accused by several Journals
of It:lying caused and fomented the out-
brc;ak, and in general they content them-
Feires with denying and disproving the
cha:ge. • They use their shield admirably,
but' they may scarcely hope for victory unless
also use their sword with equal effect.
Tney :nay tire out their enemies by their passive
fvrtitude, and in the end boast of the many
blows they have withstood. By such a policy,
kowever, they must incur damage, and their
f: 'S!st merit will be to escape annihilation.
7 ouglA, we think, to change their course,
,ecome the assailants.

r, •
.1.

ior
.tiur Farts, were willing, to forget the
pa and," taking things as they at present
eta :Id, do our best for the future. But
• Tories will not allow us. They . will

I fbrth daily their criminations, and
v, doggedly persist In reviving and nourishing
iii the hateful passions that keep classes asunder.
T:, must, therefore, be distinctly told that
y are the mischief makers, and it must be
inc..tly brought home to them, that, under the
{:,•tri• e of order, they are promoting discord by
the , rnbridled gratification of their own selfish
For years they have had, with a slight
inter aption, the legislative andexecutive powers
in tit* •ir bands. The vast discontent of the
, tharefbre—their social deprivations, and
social : misery, are justly chargeable on the To-
ries. 'Were the people well off and contented,
Trades' Unions, Leagues, Associations, and De-
livagwu. es, would be as powerless as is Sir ROBERT
PEEL'S Corn-law in the face of an ample harvest.
Those who, by their Corn and other unjust laws,
„general- e the social misery, and the social dis-
content, are ilie real authors of the outbreak,
and ought to be branded as public incendiaries.
The, oonth cf August was supposed to be pe-
culiarly auspicious to any kind of insurrection in
tine North, because it reminded the- thronged
Mves thekse of the I\Tanchester Massacre. They
were..abont to do honour to the popular hero of
that ear cwhen the tarn-out began, Now, that
Ireasac,re -was exclusively the work of the Tories.
It Was begun, continued, and ended on Tory
p:l7cip:,cs. So deep did it penetrate into the
minds o the., manufacturing classes, that many
years of subsequent prosperity .4"iti!ed to oblite-
rate the impressibn. It maybe said even to have
deepeeel with time and reflection. The Parlia-
ment wl7,:ch defended it became - generally
()dicing, auG' forfeited from that moment • the cha-
raga-4 of he oteetor of the people. The urgent
ftelipazd for Reform in 1830 is mainly to be
tra.cfed to the. defence 'of the Tory massacre of
The satie party which then did so much
Nisehief is now again actively at work, using
tfiT *maze tools. It both calumniates and im-
prisons, and woad be more ruinous now than
theu, but fortunatt-Iy for us it is shorn of some
Of it; power.

1t

1.1 1839, that party was extremely ac-
tiro its the manufacturing districts. The old
spirit na.glit operate in: new men; the Ministers
of that day had imbibed it, and acted on the
pCryplles of Toryism. The Whigs, from a new-
born zt.- alp to be efficient Ministers of the Crown,
fn-got their duty to the peopl.. They allowed
-themselves to be unduly influenced by the terri-
fied Tori es of the manufacturing districts, and
*o.c:rii,:ceL the principles of liberty to a desire to
rropitiatie their political opponents. They set
the coner,:ables and the police into motion some-
ac lording to the present fashion of Sir
GRAHAM. They put down meetings, like
tilATciri. is ; and threw men into prison, like the
To'ries, o a account of their opinions. From their
Toryism„ Chartism gathered strength, and be-
ca me rife in the land. First, then, the odious
ty i'uuny of Toryism, in our own day, led to Re-
m‘d next to Chartism ; and still the Tories,
vaflauirted by disaster, and untaught by ex-
t.re pursuing the same career. Fac-
tiot ,;• may be ~.-nnihilated—they cannot be taught.
'l,le, nest step'in the progress of Toryism will
rolably -be Revolution ; and if that come, we
owe it to the men who daily abuse the
h: 6-Co-:at-jar,* League because it oppoSes and
Stet: ggii s to overturn their mischievous legislation.

"ha t they did in 1819, in 1839, and at every
peric a of our history, they are now doing—
st.riii;iii g the law to their own purposes. It is not
enorgh for them that they have the making of
ibe unless they can also administer it. They
he,,ted th Maigs for nothing so much as for su-

pc osedint • them to some extent, and controlling
€ 43n 1p t. ha administration of the law. What an
apilt eiy aid Iliey make about the Whigs appoint-
ing p opulat magistracy under the new Corpo-
rite ion Act, and how speedily did they set about
1)1' g Tories in the magistracy whenever they
iref urn ed to office ! The law, in fact, is such a jumble
the bands of a cunning Magistrate, it may

serve any purpose. A piece of parchment, a
custom, or a decision.of the Judges, requires a
living spirit to interpret it, and the Magistrate or
the Secretary cf State may make it speak what he
thinks, and what he desires. The Tories thus dis-
guise their desires in the forms of law, and in its
name they give effect to their own passions.
In truth, what they call the law, and what they
call the Constitution, are little more than their
own arbitary will, clothed in these solemn and
sacred forms. They . make a law to give them-
selves wealth and poWer, and they execute it,
after their own fashion, to attain the
same end. Their perversion of law to ac-
complish their own objects, their making
the Constitution a mere instrument for
securinx them wealth and power, is the
chief cause of the contempt into which the Con-
stitution and the law have fallen. By their con-
tinued injustice they are the authors of the public
discontent and of the late insurrection. Of their
faults it is now the duty of the League and its
supporters to remind them, instead of allowing
them to escape from their enormous responsi-
bility by defending the League from their attacks.

It is impossible to read the Tory journals with-
out perceiving that they contemplate making
most important changes in society. They are
by no means contented with its present condition
and to carry out their principles, they must
frame a number of new laws. They think popu-
lar assemblies endanger the public peace, and
they must propose some enactments to restrain
or suppress public meetings, if they cannot
covertly, by the help of the police and
the law as it stands, put them down.
They object to the growth of manufactures—
they expressly declare that it is not desirable to
make England the workshop of the world, and
they must take measures to prevent the growth
of a manufacturing and town population. They
contend strenuously for making the master ma-
nufacturers support the workmen, whether they
have any employment for them or not; and they
openly demand a law to regulate wages. The
Parliament cannot possibly continue to restrict
the supply of food without being driven into the
most coercive acts for the suppression of public
meetings, for the limitation of population, and
for the regulation of all the employment and
the rate of wages throughout society. Such
being the logical results of their principles, Mr.
COBDEN, on Thursday, very properly pointed
them out in the following passage :
When they have put down the people, they will still
have the far greater tusk to perform of finding them em-
ployment and good wages.—(Applause.) I say it is their
duty ; and why ? I would not say of a Government
rice that of Switzerland, which has no custom-houses,
that it was the duty of a Government to find employ-
ment for the pedple ; but I say it is the duty of our Go-
vernment, who have undertaken to meddle by law with
every branch of commerce, and every pursuit of '-idustry
;n the country.—(Applause.) They cannot complain,
therefore, that they rre bound to find employment for
the people. There is not a single article in which we
deal that is not wrapped up, rke a mummy plmost, with
Acts of Parliament—(Applause and laughter)—we can-
not move a hand or foot iu commercial transactions with-
out being hampered by customs' laws ; nor c:..n we take
any steps towards exchanging the r' dcles we produce for
those of other countries without coming in contact with
protective laws and prohibitory duties.—(Applause.) I
say, therefore, it is the duty of the Government to find
employment for the people ; and when they have put
down these tumults, I say it is as nothing compared with
the duty which they still owe, with the magnitude of the
task which they sti. t have to undertake, of finding em-
ployment and subsistence for the people.—(Applause).
That must be done.

That passage is now especially worthy of pub-
lic attention, because there is a great dispute in
society as to the extent to which legislation
should proceed. From Corn-laws have already
proceeded a responsibility in the Legislature to
employ the people, and soon the Tories must
proceed to limit their numbers, and regulate all
the rewards of industry. They are, in fact, re-
ducing St. Simonism to practice in England, and
will determine by law every man's remuneration.
Such a system worked by a benevolent despot
would be intolerable, but worked by a Legis-
lature consisting of more than a thousand per-
sons, and set iu motion by a still more numerous
tribe of journalists, and idle meddlers with other
persons' affairs, will become a perpetual inter-
ference with private affairs. Life, which the
ALMIGHTY gives as a blessing, will be converted
into a curse. Ar►d let not the opulent and the
noble suppose that they will escape. They may
at present direct the system only against others,
but they must in turn submit to its fetters.
They cannot feed the monster without becoming
its prey. We do not now allude to the conse-
quences of this meddling system for the first
time, but as we see it growing and extending it
is necessary that we should again place some of
its inevitable consequences before our readers.

_MAGAZINE DAY.
BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE.
Schiller's Poems and Ballads—a theme that has
been often discussed before—are, many of them,
translated with vigour and elegance, by a writer who
leads off the present Number with a prose criticism
on the genius of this celebrated German poet, who, he
tells us, has a command over all the resources of
his art, is manly in his sentiment,. simple even. in his
richness, and broad and large in his philosophy; adding,
" Schiller's minor poems are very rarely obscure, the
thought is not subtle and wire-drawn, the art which
conceives them is essentially warm and living. Though
veiled in a more ornate and learned dress, the man's
heart beats under them, as strongly and as.loudly:as
in the verse of Burns." This is high praise, hut it is
not unmerited, as will be seen by the subjoined ballad,
which is founded on an old legend of the Rhine,
familiar to most tourists; and exhibits much unaffected
feeling. It is entitled "The Knight of Toggenburg :"
" Sir Knight ! the love that sisters feel,
Could that content, is thine ;
The love thy heart wattld fain reveal,
Has only pain fur mine !
I calmly still would see thee go,
Awl calmly welcome thee !
The silent tears thine eyelids know,
Are language strange to me."
He heard her speak ; supprest
The bitter thoughts that bleed ;
He rose—he c!asp'd her to his breast,
And sprang upon his steed,
" Up,- liegemen, up.!—thro' Sw:sserland !"
The word awakes the brave I
The cross abreast—the holy band
Shall seek the Saviour's grave.
High deeds for many a Christian knight
Achieved a hero's lame ;
As glittering thro' the foremost fight,
Their dancing plumage came.
Yet, most of all, one name of fear
Appall'd the Moslem foe.
Alas, in fame the heart can ne'er
Its heaviness forego !
One weary Tear he sought to bear,
What then he might no more,
Away from her—what rest was there ?
He left the holy shore.
He hail'd a ship on Jc,ppa's strand,
Sails hoist and breezes fair ;
Away once more to that dear land
In which she breathes the air.
And now the pilgrim paused in fear
Before the castle gate,
Dark roll'd upon the pilgrim's ear
The thunder-words of fate.
" To her thou seek'st but yester-eve
The solemn veil was given,.
Content the world for God to leave,
She lives—the bride of heaven I"
So left he then for evermore
His father's proud abode,
And ne'er the knightly harness wore,
Nor knightly steed bestrode.
Below his castle-crowned height,
Unknown, he sate him down,
nd, for the warrior's armour, dight
hermit's hairy gown.
A lonely hut he built him there,
Her dwelling-place in view,
Where still the cloister glisten'd fair
The dusky lindens through.
From morn, in that unwitness'd place,
Till starry evening shone,
Mute, yet with hope upon his face,
The hermit sate alone.
And hour by hour, as magic-bound,
Her casement watch'd afar,
Until he heard, with feeble sound,
Her lattice-bolt unbar.
There upwards still his look was cast,
Until her image, pale
And angel-mild, the while it past,
Bow'd meekly towards the vale.
Then laid he down, the vigil o'er,
Consoled, perchance, awhile,
To greet, in quiet joy, once more
The morning's early smile.
He sate—the days, the seasons fly—
He sate, and gaz'd afar,
And watch'd—if sad, without a sigh—
To hear that lattice-bar.
There upward still the look was cast,
• Until her image, pale
And angel-mild, the while it past,
Bow'd meekly towards the vale.
So sate he on that lonely spot
The morn that was his last,
And still the look, where life was not,
Was towards the casement cast.

Campbell, as some of our readers may perhaps re-
member, has versified this legend, but his " Brave
Roland " is by no means one of his most felicitous
productions. The diction is polished enough, but
the sentiment wants depth and earnestness. "Re-
collections of Early Reading" is a strange concern,
whose exact meaning we do not profess to com-
prehend. So far as we can make out, it
is intended as a quiz on the exaggerated
school of romantic fiction ; but if so, it is
too grave and formal to answer its purpose. The
ridicule that is not obvious at first sight, is little better
than a failure. The "Elopement" is a Spanish story,
founded on fact, and related in a very mercurial
spirit of enjoyment. A young soldier of fortune has
formed an attachment to a pretty Spanish girl. Her
father, a wealthy merchant, is opposed to the match,
and hurries off his reluctant daughter to the
solitude of the country. Her lover, of course, finds
her out in her retirement ; assumes, in concert with
a few friends, the disguise of a Carlist chief; surrounds
the house ; and while his companions are pretend-
ing to ransack it for the purpose of pillage, coolly
walks off with the girl. "Once married, he returns
and explains the whole circumstances of the case
to his father-in-law, who forgives him, in con-
sideration of the incredible impudence and in-
genuity of his statagem. " Exhibitions " is
a notice—surely an unseasonable one !—of the paint-
ings in the British Institution, and other Picture-
galleries that are now closed. The critic is in
raptures with Titian's well-known " Bacchus and
Ariadnei"—a painting, the extraordinary excel-
lence of which, we are ashamed to say, we have never
yet been able to discover. "Ricardo and Adam
Smith"—as its title implies—is a treatise on that
liveliest and most imaginative of subjects, Political
Economy. In the course of this captivating dis-
quisition, the author discusses the theory of rent, and
with a force and effect that has--all but closed our
eye-lids. Next to mathematics, the object of our
most reverential abhorrence is political economy,
which the witty author of ".Headlong Hall" has
shrewdly defined as being the art of " taking all
one can get, and paying no more than one can help."
" Dennis on Shakspeare," is an ingenious imitation of
the manner of this surly critic, who was Pope's great
bug-bear, and kept this sensitive poet in a constant
state of mental disquietude. Despite •his caprices and
frequent violations of good taste, Dennis had much
critical sagacity, and more real feeling than the world
—taking the cue front his enemies—has given him
credit for. The great cause of his unpopularity with his
contemporaries, was his infirm temper, which he knew
not how.to keep in subjection. He is now forgotten,
or lives only in the pages of Johnson, who has quoted
some of his criticisms in his excellent memoir of
Dryden. " Caleb Stukely" exhibits here and there
considerable vigour of description. " The Doom of
the Mirror" is a ballad from the pen of Mr. Sim-
mons, whose poems would be more effective, if they
were less precise and elaborate in their versification.
This gentleman's Muse is never seen en dishabille, but
is always tricked out in a full Court suit.

BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
The professional peculiarities of that Cicero of the
Aucton-mart, George Robins, are admirably pour-
trayed In a sketch entitled the " Great Auctioneer,"
which, warmly eulogistic as it does no more than
justice to the exalted genius of this distinguished in-
dividual, of whose advertisements the 'writer observes,
" These effusions are unlike anything which ancient
or modern literature Affords, or rather they combine
the perfections of botli." This is true, for more
original compositions never yet astonished, delighted,
and mystified the world. Abounding in tropes,
studded with glittering expletives, li.ke a frosty night
with stars, teeming with classical allusions, impa-
tient of the ignoble trammels of syntax, and soaring
far above the reach of ordinary sense into the cloudiest
regions of the imagination, these unrivalled adver-
tisements may be styled the very poetry of
business, where matters of fiction are curiously
blended with matters of fact, where adjectives
do duty as substantives, verbs officiate as ad-
verbs, and conjunctions couple words and sen-
tences together, that must be astonished to find
themselves in such close companionship with each
other ! George Robins is decidedly the most ori-
ginal genius of the day, with the single exception of
the author of that impressive production, the Income-
tax Bill, whose congenial flights of no-meaning de-
serve, and will obtain, imperishable renown. The
writer goes on to say :—" George has the happy
faculty of investing a genteel residence with super-
natural enchantments, and of transporting his rea-
ders, all in the way of business, into the regions of
fairy-land,' where splendour and beauty strive for the
mastery." Eloquent criticism, and how true !
Who has not admired the skill with which
our illustrious Auctioneer clothes the barren
rock with luxuriant copses ; converts a stag-
nant pool into a clear, expansive lake dotted with
ne s
y, green islands, and bordered by picturesque
slopes, gracefully down to the water's edge;
transforms a damp cottage, with a pig-stye in the
rear, into a romantic villa, of.the Venetian school of
architecture; and plants preserves, full of game, on
a barren moor, where a partridge would die of inani-
tion, and a jackass find considerable difficul in dis-
covering a stale thistle ? We wish the racha of
Egypt would commission George to sell the Great
Desert in lots. How the dry sand would become ver-
dant pasturage at his touch ! Roses would bloom, but=

buds would sing, and rivers, fl owing with milk and honey,
irradiate the-whole face of the landscape, to say no-
thing of " hard and soft water" which would be
sure to abound on " the premises !" " Mr. Ledbury's
Grand Tour" is an arch, quizzical sketch of a tra-
velling Cockney, whose mistakes, so full of sim-
plicity, will afford the reader no slight diversion.
The " Microscope", is a pleasant anecdotical remi-
niscence of an English missionary named Clarke,
who went out to covert the natives of India to Chris-
tianity, but, failing in his efforts, returned in despair
to Calcutta. We give the rest of the anecdote in the
writer's own words :

One day' our missionary learned, to his great joy, that
a Bhramin of the very first rank had arrived in the me-
tropoliS. Determined to bring matters to an issue,
Clarke wrote to him, and begged him to meet him on a
certain day, when he undertook to convince him (the
Hindoo priest) of the errors of his faith. To this the
Brahmin consented, and at the time appointed the Hea-
then and the Christian champion met to discuss, in the
presence of several witnesses. the merits of their respec-
tive creeds.

As is usual in polemical discussions, the controversy
was opened by several inconsequential queries and an-
swers. For half an hour neither party had put forth a
startling proposition; the wily Indian taking care to con-
fine himself to the defensive. Tired at length by this
scene, Clarke suddenly and abruptly asked him,
" Are you forbidden to eat anything in which animal
life exists ?"—" I am."

" Have you ever broken through this law?"—" Never."
"May you not unconsciously have been led into this
crime ?"—" Impossible."
" Will you swear to it r--" Most solemn'.} I do."
"Do you ever eat pomegranates ?"—" Daily."
"Bring me some of that fruit, then," rejoined Clarke,
turning to a servant. His order was complied with; the
pomegranates were brought.
Choose one." The Brahmin did so.—" Cut it in
two." With this direction he complied.—" Place it
here," and Clarke assisted him to put it beneath a micro-
scope.—" Now look at it.".
The Brahmin did so; but no sooner did he apply his
eye, than he started back with affright. The fruit was
perfectly alive with animalculm. The puzzled Hindoo
drew out the pomegranate (which, perhaps, my readers
are not aware is more closely filled with insects than any
other fruit), looked at it, examined it, replaced it, and
again beheld the myriads of living creatures with which
it was rife. He felt it with his hand, to convince him•
self that there was no trick in the affair. Then, sud-
denly drawing himself up, he slowly uttered "Bus-such
hi." (" Enough—it is true.")
" You acknowledge, then, that you have sinned un-
consciously ? That every thing being filled with ani-
malculx, invisible to the naked eye, you can neither eat
nor drink wittwut committing a crime ?"
The abashed Hindoo bcivred.
" Shall I show you how full of similar insects every
drop of water is !"—" No ! I have seen enough."
" Do you desire further proof ?"—" I have a favour to
ask."

" What is it ? If I can; I will grant it."
" Give me your microscope. I cannot buy it ; give it
me."

Clarke paused for a moment, for he bad that morning
paid ten guineas &I. it ; and, being a poor man, he could
ill afford to part with it. But, as the Indian was urgent,
almost to entreaty, he at length consented (especially as
he thought the other would afford him in return some
curiosity of equal value), and presented it to him.
The Brahmin took it, gave one look of triumph round
the hall, and suddenly raising his arm, dashed it into a
thousand atoms on the marble floor.
" What do you mean by this ?" exclaimed Clarke, in
undisguised astonishment.
It means, Sir Christian," replied the Hindoo in a
cold, grave tone, " it means that I was a happy, a good,
a proud man. By means of yonder instrument you have
robbed me of all future happiness. You have condemned
me to descend to my grave wretched and miserable !"
With these words the unfortunate Brahmin quitted
the hall, and soon after retired up the country.
" My Honey-Moon" is 'a stale subject treated in a
novel and ingenious manner. The denouement is ex-
ceedingly edifying. " Richard Savage" represents
the auto-biographer in his new capacity of poet, and
as the personal friend of Pope. Some portions of the
dialogue are spirited and characteristic. The " Fiddler
of Marseilles" is entertaining in point of incident, not
withstanding that it bids a bold defiance to probability.
The " Philosophy of Punning" is cleverly illustrated,
but the letter-press is very common-place stuff. " Fa-
miliar Epistle from an Elderly Gentleman on Half-
pay" is a whimsical description of a voyage to Rams-
gate, and of the perils the writer encountered off the
precipitous coast of the Isle of Dogs ! His log is interest-
ing, but it is nothing to Mr. Dillon's immortal record of
the " Lord Mayor's Voyage to Oxford," and of the
narrow escape this mighty Potentate had from ship-
zeck on an uninhabited island near Isleworth.

neckerchief and the cAlar of his coat were sprinkled with
vivid red stains.

They could not divine what this was till one, attempt-
ing to wipe it away, had his fingers burnt. It was a large
quantity of the strongest oil of vitriol, mixed with sand.
A cry of horror arose in that hall, 20 recently ringing
with shouts of conviviality, and at once all was confusion,
uproar, indecision, wonder, fear.
Some cried out to fix and barricade the doors ; others,
to send to the barracks, and call out a guard of soldiers.
Some crowded round the prostrate gentleman ; others
ran hither and thither about the great apartment, un-
knowing what to do or where to fly.
At length a gentleman present, who had been exerting
himself to produce something like order, succeeded in
pressing, as it were, two terrified waiters to bring cold
water, wherewith to dilute and wash away the acid. He
was a surgeon, and the leading person of that profession
in the place.
He had him then removed up stairs to one of the bed-
rooms of the hotel, and renewed his sanative endeavours.
But it was plainly of no avail—the hellish scheme had been
to-J well concocted, and too adroitly executed. The sand
had found its way into the eyes, and deep into the nos-
trils. Part of the face was already a black, burnt, life-
less mass, and it was plain that sloughing or mortifica-
tion must spread to a fearful extent. The eyes !—they
were already burnt out—there was no hope for them.
Was there hope for life ?—the surgeon shook his head.
Shortly the unfortunate sufferer recovered conscious-
ness—the agony he now eudur€d must have been dread-
ful ;. and though he appeared a man who had great con-
trol over his feelings, yet his groans were so harrowing,
that several people living at the hotel immediately left it
fur other establishments.

For twenty-four hours this continued ; then the pain
ceased—for why ?—the nerves were dead. The flesh of
his face was now a burnt, lifeless mass, and was fast be-
ginning to separate from the bone. Horrible !

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