The Sun.
London, England, 1827-02-06 00:00:00

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DESIRABLE ESTATE in PERTHSHIRE, with a FREE-
HOLD QUALIFICATION, for SALE.
THERE WILL BE SOLD,
Within the Royal Exchange Coffee-house, Edinburgh, on a day
to be afterwards named, if not previously disposed of by Pri-
vate Bargain,
TIE LANDS and ESTATE of FINCASTLE,
with or without the FREEHOLD QUALIFICATION
belonging thereto. As also, the LANDS and GRAZINGS of
RICHAEL and OLASCHORRIE.
I. The LANDS of FINCASTLE are situated in Athole._
They consist of upwards of 460 acres of good arable land, and
about 2600 acres of excellent green, woodland, and hill pasture,
These pasture lands are well watered, and are esteemed of a
very superior quality for the rearing and feeding of cattle. A
considerable portion of them is susceptible of being brought into
high cultivation, for there is great abundance of shell marl very
near the surface, and an inexhaustible quantity of limestone acces-
sible to every part of the estate, and of peat moss and wood for
burning the same. The lands are subdivided with stone dikes,
and a substantial boundary fence of the same description almost
surrounds the whole property.
There are also several valuable plantations of oak, birch, ash,
&c., and the proprietor has recently planted upwards of 70 acres
of hill land with larch and spruce fir, which is well inclosed, and
remarkably thriving.
The grounds are well stocked with game of every description.—
There is a right of fishing in the river Tummel, which abounds
witl. pike and trout, the latter of a very superior quality. There
is also a right to a third of the salmon fishing in the Linn or Falls
of Tummel. At one of the falls there is au excellent meal mill,
with a command of water, and fall sufficient for turning rnachi•
very to any extent. The water has never been known to freeze
or run short.

The Mansion-house, to which a suitable garden is attached, is
fit for the accommodation of a large family, and is surrounded
with fine old trees, part of which forms an avenue of great beauty.
The offices are substantial, and in good repair.
The road to the Mansion-house of the property is good, and
diverges from the great north road to the celebrated Pass of
cranky, the scenery of which and of the property itself is of the
most picturesque description, particularly that of Loch Tummel,
which, from its many peculiar beauties, is much admired and re-
sorted to by strangers. The Highland coach passes daily at the
junction of the roads.
11. The LANDS and GRAZINGS of RICHAEL and GLAS-
CHORRIE are situated in the forest of Athole, and comprehend
some arable and about 5,000 acres of hill ground. These gra-
sings form an excellent sheep walk, and abound with grouse,
ptarmigan, and every description of hill game, and are surroun-
ded on all sides by the Duke of Athole and Gordon's preserved
grounds. The proprietor has recently built and furnished a very
complete substantial Shooting Lodge, with stable and dog kennel,
which is of easy access, the great north road running within a
mile and a half of it. The Lodge, with the Shootings, have
been let for several years past at 1501. per annum.
The rental olthe whole estate is 1,2261. lbs. 4d.—The public
burdens are trifling.
An estate combining so many advantages, and affording every
requisite that a complete Highland property can possibly furnish,
is seldom in the market, or to be met with.

For further particulars apply to Patrick Stewart, Esq. at
Fletcher&ld, near Forfar; Captain James Stewart, at Kinvaid,
near Perth ; Captain Gilbert Stewart, at Allean, who will give
directions for chewing the property ; James and Alexander
Macdonell, writers to the signet, 10, Broughton Place, in whose
bawls are the title-deeds ; or to William Wedderspoon, writer in
Perth ; either of whom will receive offers for a private bargain.
Edinburgh, 6th January, 1827.

The inhabitants of Chile are annoyed by an insect
called henchuca, in the shape and form like our common house-
bug, but of the size of our cock-chafer. This winged insect con-
ceals itself by day in the thatch and cane roofing of the houses, and
sallies forth by night in quest of food. They annoy people much
after the manner of our bug, but from their size are terrific enemies.
They are thin and fiat like the common bug; but after satiating
themselves with blood, of which they take as much as the medicinal
leech, they become quite round.—Freeman's Journal.
CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE.---in consequence of
information received by the Police-office of this City, from dif-
ferent quarters, strong suspicions have been for some time enter-
tained tkat a base coin manufactory existed somewhere in this
neighbourhood ; and Dawson, the superintendent of Police, with
Hill, the conductor of the watch, have been extremely active in
their endeavours to ascertain the fact. On Saturday morning,
about twelve o'clock, they set off, with one or two assistants, for
Brown's-lane, in Hanbridge, where they found a small cottage,
with the doors locked, the windows darkened, and the keyholes
stopped up, and every now and then a noise issued from the house
similar to that made in the operation of coining. Two men were,
therefore, placed at the back door to prevent egress that way, and
Dawson and Hill rushed in at the front door, and found a man
hard at work—not coining, but printing pocket-handkerchiefs.—
They then searched the house, but found nothing to confirm them
in the suspicion they at first entertained ; however, as printing
handkerchiefs, without notice having been given to the Excise,
was clearly an offence under the Act 25 of George the Third, and
1,0 of Anne, they left an officer in the house, with strict orders to
take care of what it contained, and not on any account to allow the
man to leave it, while they went to give information at the Excise
Office ; they had not, however, been long gone, before the man,
under some pretence, got the officer to open the door, which was
no sooner done than he slipped by him, and taking the key, locked
him in. It is almost needless to add that the man escaped, the
goods were forfeited to the Excise, and the noise heard was occa-
sioned by the stamping of the handkerchiefs.— Chester Advertiser.

LITERATURE.

CONFESSIONS OF AN OLD BACHELOR. LONDON,
1827.-pp. 371.

What an abandoned, disconsolate, hypochondriacal (to
use Mr. Sheill's exuberance of epithet), detestable ano-
maly is a confirmed old bachelor; one, we mean, who,
throughout life, has steadily adhered to his selfish prin-
ciple of living alone, heedless of the charnis of woman, un-
touched by the spells of home, unaffected by the sight of
children I If this principle proceed from early disappoint-
ment excuses are certainly to be made for it, but, if it ori-
ginate in a perverted turn of mind, preserved and fostered
by prejudice, it deserves unqualified condemnation. The
first law of nature says—" increase and multiply." Addi-
son, too, lays it down as a rule, that " man seems merely
sent into this world in order to provide himself with a suc-
cessor." How great, then, must be that selfishness which
sees generations pass and repass, children dawn into men,
and provide themselves each with an inheritor, yet
lives alone from day to day, deaf to the first call of in-
stinct, and unconnected with the great family of man.
We can always tell an old bachelor ; he is an animal never
to be mistaken. His face is usually clouded and saturn-
ine; his manners forbidding, his voice tuned to the
coarsest notes of melancholy. He is also powerfully odo-
riferous, takes an immensity of snuff, which dribbles down
his white cravat, dresses in an old-fashioned suit coeval
with the Pyramids; talks of the friends of his youth,
who ;e very names have been lost in the remoteness of
antiquity; pretends to flirt with young ladies before com-
pany, but is frightened out of his wits when left alone with
them ; shrGuds himself from head to foot in flannel; wears
square-toed creaking shoes; puts three blankets on his bed
at night; belongs to some club of old fools like himself,
reads every line of the newspaper (we do not wonder at
this if it be the SUN) from the first page to the last, ad-
vertisements included ; and, in fact, is altogether a delect-
able compound of nervousness and abomination. On the
other hand, look at your father of a family, consisting of
sixteen—" longs and shorts," Hexameter and Pentameter
children, as they say of Latin verses at Eton. He is a
lively, mercurial, sociable fellow, old, perhaps, in years,
but young in. spirit, charitable in disposition, from
an experienced consciousness of what the weak-
ness of nature demands, and sensitively alive to
the charms of woman, from a grateful recollection
of the happineSs she has brought him. After dinner he is
in his glory ; the nursery bell is then rung, and down
comes his troop of young ones with their round laughing
faces shining under the effects of the soap with which the
nursery-maid has bounteously larded them. In a few
minutes they have all ranged themselves in order; the
glasses of wine are distributed with a due attention to
seniority, and the youngest (who, by the bye, is generally
the favourite) is sure to place herself on Papa's knee, to
tweak his nose with her youthful digits, stick pins in the
calf of his leg (which if he happen to be in ill-humour is
highly gratifying), and throw his wig, should he be unfor-
tunate enough to wear one, head-foremost at her brother
John. We ourselves can properly appreciate thase pecu-
liar blessings, inasmuch as we have been thrice married,
and are at this present moment of writing, the happy
father of two and twenty bouncing pledges. Indeed, our
progeny is so numerous that should it increase like the
national debt (and we much fear it will), we shall be actu-
ally compelled to keep an Inventory of our children. But
to return to the Old Bachelors in the confessions which
he has here lain before us, he evinces throughout an un-
settled vacillating fastidious disposition. He is besides a
coquette, and this in a man is detestable. Hear the fellow's
impudent acknowledgements :

I used regularly to make ten or twelve fancy I was in love
with them; I handed all with equal politeness to their carriages ;
I adjusted the shawls of each with equal assiduity, and wished
them all a good night with equal kindness. 'Whether I created
any jealousy amongst my numerous partners, I do not know."
But we do; a person of this disposition would be about
as likely to create jealousy among females as a negro in
a white neckcloth. What ? the man who could flirt
with a tough old spinster of fifty, with the same satisfac-
tion as with a fair girl of eighteen ; who could see no more
in the eyes of sixty than in those of sixteen; he create
jealousy ! No, no, your subject for exciting this pas-
sion is far more dangerous in character. In the
first place, he is usually of superb dimensions; se-
condly, his manners are cheerful, persuasive, and soft,
almost to effeminacy; thirdly, his conversation is strongly
tinctured with sentiment; fourthly, he dances, walks, and
above all, sits gracefully on horseback ; fifthly, be is a
little, but not too:much of a dandy ; sixthly, he repeats
fluently from Moore and Byron ; seventhly, he possesses
consummate impudence; eighthly, he knows how to
round a tasty compliment; and lastly, how to talk non-
sense. Now all these fascinating qualities (especially
the last), meet only in the gifted person of Mr. Joseph
Hume; but as he has chosen to devote his undivided at-
tention to politics, there is no other individual within the
sphere of our recollection, who can properly be called " a
lady's man," and as such, a fit subject for inspiring jealousy.
To resume ; in the course of his " confessions " our old
Bachelor talks much of the danger of making what he calls
" a hasty match." Now this, though vastly moral no
doubt and edifying, is mere humbug. Is marriage a thing
for a man to stand shilly-shallying over, like a brisk dose
of Epsom salts ? Is he to consider and reconsider about
it; as if debating the probability of his being hanged or
not? Far from it, marriage is like a_cold bath, the longer
you stand shivering on the brink, the more reluctant you
feel to enter; but rush boldly in, make one desperate
plunge, and depend on it, you will find the dip much more
comfortable titan you had expected. There is a great
deal of valuable time lost in this methodistical mode of
committing matrimony. A man instead of falling properly
in love, head over ears, as all good Christians should do,
considers the matter, us if it were business, with such
sangfroid, that he could almost toss up, heads or tails,
marriage or no marriage. And is this the way to play
with the gentle yielding heart of woman ? With her, who
gifted by nature with sensibility, far more refined and
ghie'r'eschoice ? The bare
up her whole soul
acuteunhesitatingly than manto can everobj ecft e clo f,
idea of such deliberation is ungenerous, it implies
the possession of every bad quality by a woman,
whereas, in nine out of ten cases, it is the man alone
who entails misery on the wedded state. For our-
selves we are of opinionr that no gentleman, with the usual
allowance of youth in his composition, should take more
than twenty minutes to fall in love and resolve on mar-
riage.in
that
time. , Consider
He
hmoweetms,ulceht businessus
se, suppo a beautiful virgin,
may be got through
slim, sentimental, and so forth, at a ball. Their eyes (tak-
ing for granted a certain instinctive sympathy of soul be-
tween them, without which matrimony is horrible) sud-
denly meet ; in five minutes they have both had time to
blush and be pleased with each other ; in just about five
minutes more, the gentleman has contrived to advance to-
wards the lady, and shew her, by his faultering voice and
manner, how decidedly he is smitten. Thus you see ten
Minutes only have elapsed, and yet within that short space,
judiciously made use of, two hearts have managed to find
out that they were formed by a just Providence for each
other. The next ten minutes are devoted by our intended
Benedict to an introduction to, and conversation with, the

PRICE 7D.

young lady's father, about the weather, and such like
common-places : in the course of which he discovers that
he is a good-natured old gentleman, snug, independent, and
smiling. What follows: why he makes up his mind at
once, that he is the very man for a father-in-law ; so re-
turns to his newly-discovered idol, dances with her, hor-
ribly nervous of course, and out of time, the whole even-
ing; meets her again the next day, unbosouis the state of
his heart, draws from her a kindred confession, and then
walks into the old gentleman's study, proposes himself as a
son-in-law, and ten to one is accepted. We forbear giving
the details of the ceremony, how the bride (as ig the
fashion) wept at church; how the bridegroom, in the ex-
cess of his agitation, kissed the clerk in mistake for his
wife; and how, finally, he became the father of some 0113
dozen thumping-children—all this we forbear, lest by our
rapturous description, we should too highly excite th.; sen-
sibility of unmarried ladies. But we are wandering sadly
from our subject, which was the Confessions of an old
Bachelor; let us then, dispatch one glass of wine, stir up
the fire, mend our stump of a pen, and thus fortified,
proceed. He describes himself as a man, who in
early youth, was inclined towards marriage ; but from.
a certain modest reserve of character, accompanied
by inordinate fastidiousness, could never find an object to
suit him. Accordingly he pours forth his ". Confessions"
(which, though divested of incident, yet describe very
happily the solitary feelings of a Bachelor) in a strain of
mingled sentiment and sarcasm.. It seems he was once
in love with a pretty Scotch girl, named Ellen, whom he
thus eloquently describes :

Time, however, which is able to mitigate the severest smarts,
of course brought some alleviation to mine ; it was a very long in-
terval though before I could rise in the morning or lay my head
upon my pillow at night, without giving vent to my distress, with-
out recounting the charms of my mistress, and dwellinc, upon her
various beauties,—her languid dark blue eyes—her light flowing
hair—her delicate oval face—the soft outline of her small Grecian
nose—her arched eyebrows, some shades darker than her hair—
the soft tint of her cheek—her dimpled chin—the slenderness of
her throat—the snows of her neck. All these beauties became
gradually less and less constantly present to my recollection, in the
midst of the college avocations and pursuits to which. I subse-
quently addressed myself. Change of place, change of scene,
change of society—how much does it efface impressions once the
most deeply stamped on the heart !
At length, after an interval of about six years—after the lapse
of that chasm which I have left unsupplied in this narrative, and
subsequently to the attainment of my twenty-second year, I once
again saw Ellen. She was much grown, and considerably altered :
her features had become larger, which, I think, is seldom an im-
provement ; it was none to her. Her complexion I did not think
quite so soft and fair as it had previously appeared to me. Still
she was very lovely. Her hair had become a good deal darker :
perhaps this was an improvement. I felt the sparks of my old
flame ki►idle in my breast ; and, alas ! I also felt the necessity of
extinguishing them as they rose, by the cold and chilling reflec-
tion that their encouragement would be in vain. The reversal of
my former prospects of independence, will explain ail this without
further detail.

I have thus already laid before the reader two bitter instances of dis-
appointment : the one in having my love snatched from me, when
the possession of her might have been possible; the other, in being
tantalized with having her in my reach, when the possession of
her was to he despaired of.

This flirtation goes on well enough for some years, in
the course of which our old bachelor takes occasion to
abuse " Platonic attachments." We are glad of this, for
we ourselves have studied love as one of the Fine Arts
during the best part of a long life, and are quite convinced
that what is called " purity of affection," unlinked with
less celestial sensations, is all moonshine. Pray, let _us
ask, does a young gentleman, when pressing his lips to
those of his mistress, think for an instant of the beauties of
her mind? _Far from it ; mind is well enough in its
way, but for heaven's sake, let it not monopolise all. To
return. On the marriage of his " adored Ellen," our
unhappy bachelor falls in love with about five other ladies,
one of whom is described as being a decided " blue,"—a
character not much to onr taste. In the progress of these
amours, he depicts with great felicity, a fond and youth-
ful couple, who have been but lately married. The de-
scription is certainly beautiful, but not exactly borne out
by the reality. Young married folks are too apt to indulge
before friends, in those playful endearments, which, how-
ever interesting when alone, contrive to lose their flavour
beforo company. Conceive howfoolish a third person looks
while an uxorious pair are billing and cooing on the sopha
before him. He longs to join in the sport, but cannot for
the life of him tell how. The Legislature should really
' look to this, and pass an act to prevent all lovers from
" cooing" before strangers for the first three months; after
that time there is no fear of their doing so. We have
dilated somewhat luxuriantly upon the subject of this
" Bachelor's Confessions," because the subject is greatly
to our taste, but must now close our Review with an ex-
hortation to all marriageable folks, to get wedded as soon
as possible. " A married man," says Doctor Johnson," has
many sorrows, but a single one has no enjoyment." In
youth he is a cypher, in age a solitary. The ties of chil-
dren, those strong links which chain us so firmly to our
nature; the affection of woman, in adversity our support,
in prosperity our pride; the thousand nameless little
pleasures which spring up, and blossom spontane-
ously- in the heart of the married man, lending lustre
to his eye, music to his voice, and buoyancy to his
gait; all these are lost on the bachelor—he dwells apart
from human nature—an Anchorite in thought; a solitary
in the midst of society. . When he goes down into. his
grave, who is there to weep for him ? When h.
his memory
is on the wane, when the friends who knew him in youth
know him no longer in his age; who is there
in that dreary hour to cheer his solitude; what voice
is there to whisper " love in his ear," what sunny
countenance to look tenderly in his face, and light up his
languid eye ? There is not one—not even one kind heart
to which lie can thus turn for consolation; like Logan, he
is the last of his race, and the same tomb whit'.' closes
over his ashes, closes but once and for ever over his memory.

We have had during the past week another dreadful
snow storm. The weather has been for some time singularly
changeable, frost and thaw givinr, place to each other in rapid
succession. The snow and rain that have fallen•have caused the
river Tyne to be so much swollen, that the water, while we are
writing, has nearly risen to the top of Newcastle Quay.__ Tyne
Mercury.

RUINS OF BERDA.—The ruins at Berda are said
to be very ancient; by some thought to be those of a city of
Amazons, who, according to history, once inhabited this country :
but while the existence of these female warriors is a matter of
doubt, the site of one of their cities_ does not deserve much notice;
nor indeed does the appearance of these ruins justify the assign-
ment of an earlier date than the beginning of the Mahometan era.
A dilapidated wall, running north and south, can be traced for up-
wai ds of a quarter of a mile. At the end of this, enclosed in a
quadrangular fort, is a ruined mosque of glazed tiles, like that at
Bagdad, attributed to Caliph Alraschid. Near the mosque I
was shewn some mounds, which were called the remains of fire-
temples ; and a little further on was the tomb of a near relation
of Mahomet, before which my guides fell on their faces, and re-
mained prostrate for nearly a minute. The person here buried is
said to have been the grand-niece of the prophet, which, if true,
would give to these ruins as remote a date as a thousand years.
We quitted Berda at eleven, and passed through a continuation of
the forest. The game that I saw on this march is incredible :
partridges weregettiug up every moment almost under the horses'
feet, and hares literally galloped in droves before us along the
road.—Keppers Journey from India.

TATTERSALL'S.--Fer
anglteryaetsi
Stakes,The btehteti .- •
" u
mll on all the
from the following statement of odds •
yesterday apyrowdauseetdobany
whichenorm :mill
be
wet
collected
DERBY.
71 to 1 agst Glenartney
S. to 1 art Tatler
14 to 1 agst Espagnolle
15 to 1 agst Defence
20 to 1 agst Elfrid
22 to 1 agst Spondee
22 to 1 agst Alameluke
22 to 1 agst Gustavus

24 to 1 agst Trumpeter.
25 to 1 agst Catherine
Q 5 to 1 agst Dahlia
30 to 1 agst Turcoman
30 to 1 aget Augusta
40 to 1 aget Gamelius
40 to 1 agst Cressida
1,000 to 15 aget Constantine"
OAKS.

5 to 1 agst Maria
12 to 1 agst Tetteridge
13 to 1 agst Brown Duchess
16 to 1 apt Translation
16 to 1 agst Sonvenir

20 to I aget Calypso
22 to 1 apt Lunacy
25 to 1 agst Hampden
25 to I agst Pantina
25 to I agst Scornful

14 to 1 agat Reriemer
15 to 1 &gat Oliveta
16 to 1 apt Sangho
15 to I agst Popsy
20 to I agat Gran!q
22 to 1 agat Matilda
Those marked thi

,EGER.
22 to 1 agst Moonshine
25 to 1 agat Jupiter
28 to 1 agst Emma
$O to 1 agst Nivalis
30 to 1 apt Nonplus

LS ) were taken.

EPSOM RACES, 1827.

FRIDAT.—The fiat pear of a renewal of the Oaks Stakes of
50 sovs. each, h. ft. for three yr old fillies, Eitt. 41b. Last
mile and half; the second to receive 100 cove. ont of the
stakes. (50 sobs.)
lAI. Derby names Mr. Booth Orey'e b. f. by Spectre, Poulton
D. of Grafton's br. f. by Woful, teal

ch. f. Novice, by Saint, Rowena
names f. Linda, by Ranter, Enchantress
D.. of Rutland names b. f. by Ardrossan, dam bj a on of Dick

Andrews
lA. Jersey names f. by Wofnl, Miltonia
Gen. Grosvenor's b. f. Icaria, by The Flyer, dam by-Dick Andrews

•f. by The Flyer, Mite, by Meteor
Sir J. Shelley names b. f. Abigail, by Whalebone, Louison's darn
Ld. Q. IL Cavendish's hr. f by Partisan, Barossa
Mr. Lambtotes eh. f. by Abjer, The Duchess
b. f, by Comus, dam by Shuttle
br. f. Clati, by Smolensk°, dam by Precipitate
Mr. Oreville's b. f. Miriam, by linalebona
--.ch. f. Maria, by Waterloo, Belvoirina
Mr. Ridadale names Mr. Lumley's b. f. by Tramp
ch. f. Lunacy, by Blacklock
Mr. Batson's f. Prrtisan—Jessy
D. of Richt-11011We b f. C !., •re, by Smolensko-;-Medora
Mr. L. Charlton'. tr. f Slipsi,p, by Smolensko—Old Maid
b. f. Scornful. by Woftil--Scratch's dam
names f. by Quizzer—Sleight-of-hand
Mr. Nowell's b. f. Souvenir, by Orbille—Dulcamara, by Waxy

ro. f. by IlainboW—Scheberazade

hr. f. by Rainbow—Brown Duchess, by Orville
b. f. by Comus, dam by Election—Fair Helen
Mr. J. Rogers's Whimper (sister to Aline,) by Woful—Bizarre
--- ch. f. Languish, by Woful—Tint
Ld. Stradbroke's ch. f. Arethissa, by Quiz—Persepolis
Mr. J. Coventry's eh. f. by Phantom—Dido
Ld. Vernlam's b. f. by Whalebone—Varennes
ch. c. by Soothsayer—Bets
b. f. by Captain Candid—Pantina
Mr. Milner names ch. f. "Vincent, by Connie
Mr. Rawlinson's b. f. by Spectre
Mr. Ormsby Gore's Belvidera, by Blacklock—Mies O'Neill
Mr. Forbes's gr. f. by Smolensk°, dam by. Selim
Mr. Mytton's ch. f. Harriette Wilson, by Ilianfred,-Sybil •

br. f. Lark, by Rubens_tella
b. f. by Rubcns, dam, Pauline by Orville
Mr. Thornhill's ch. f. by Merlin—Seamew
•
ch. f. by Merlin—Morel
Sir W. Wynn's b. f. Smolensko, dam by Beningbrough
Mr. Rush's b. f. by Pioneer—Ringtail
Mr. Mills names Ld Plymouth's di. f. by Carinon-halluliee
Mr. Tarleton's ch. f. by Selim, dam by Scud •
Mr. Harris's b. f. by Tramp, dam Remembrance
Mr. Doddington's ch. f. by Woful—Spindle
Mr. Burgess's b. f. by Woful—Allegretta
Mr. Tomes's b. f. by Sir Oliver—Miss Hap
Mr. Bodenham's b. f. by Bustard—Fillikins .
Mr. J. Smith's b. f. by Carbon, dam by Gohanna,
Ld. Huntingfield names b. f. by Catton, dam by Wazy—Bixarte.
Ld. Wharncliffe's ch. f. sister to Hampden
f. by Filho da Puti—Calypso
Col: Wilson's f. by Rubens_Tippitywitchet '
Ld. Anson names Mr. Prendergast's f. by Comus--Eliza
Ld. Orford's f. by Merlin—Shoveler
f. by Rainbow, dam•by Rubens—Tumbler's daai
Mr. Scaith's f. by Whalebone, dam by Seymour
f. by Whalebone—Vignette
Mr. Dean's f. by Woful, dam by Walton—Mendora's damn
Ld. Egremont's (sister to Addy) by Whalebone—Wasp
f. by Whalebone, dam by Teddy
Mr. West's Rachel Reysch
b. f. Clematis, by Waxy Pope—Cobbea
Mr. R. Wilson's bl. f. Emma, by Smolensko--Mirth,
b. f. by Smolensko—Mary, by Precipitate
Mr. Maberly's b. f. Livonia, by Smolensko—Stella, by L'Orieint
Mr. Yates names Ld. Clarendon's f. by Partisan--Doana Clara
Mr. Forth's b. f. Translation, by Interpreter--Dandizette's dam
ch. f. by Interpreter_Sagana •
Mr. Ryan's eh. f. by Soothsayer—Blacklock's dam
Mr. Tharett's hr. f. by Smolensko--Azor's dam
Mr. Hunter's 1.. f. by Orville—Canvas
(The Malton Craven Meeting to-morrow.)

MAGISTRATES OW YORKSHIRE.--We last week
copied a paragraph from a neighbouring Paper, stating, in allusion
to an observation made by Mr. M. A. Taylor, at the meeting of
the Magistrates for the county of Middlesex, that the pecuniary
business of this Riding is never transacted by the Magistrates
with closed doors. Upon inquiring in the proper quarter, we
find, that at the time when Mr. Taylor was in the habit of attend-
ing the West Riding Sessions, the rule was to exclude the publics
from the room. Latterly this rule has been relaxed, though the
doors are by no means at present thrown open on all occasions.
When they are closed, it is, however, more to prevent crowd and
interruption than from any wish to prevent disclosure; so much
so, that at the last Sessions, it was named, that in future it would
be more convenient for the financial business to be transacted in
the Court than in any other room ; and this seemed to be the pre-,
morevai iu
tg
ef e feeling
Magistrates
ot
rf a
tt
el e
act Magistrates.in e
yr of
the We are
liccothnevibence that
doebia:
far as the management of the county purse is concerned, we are
sure that the public would have much reason to be satAfied. It is
true tliJ sum raised by the entreat is large ; but when it is known
to what numerous calls this money is by law subject, it. may be
doubted, whether the private affairs of any gentlemainnitnhtehme cauottangtz
The Conversaztone, or weekly Meetings
exhibit greater cliforerrecerreyss. or more strict
Eveningeconomy in
at the Royal Institution, have commenced for the season; the
second assembly was held on Friday last, and was tern nume-
rously attended. It cannot, indeed, be a matter of surprise that
they should be more attractive than the formal sessions of other
literary and scientific societies ; the unrestrained intercourse
which is here afforded to men of literature and science, is likely
to be productive of good, not only to the Establishment, but to
society at large. Mr. Brande, in the Opening Lecture to his
Course of Experimental Chemistry, on Saturday, adverted to
the subject in terms which have our full concurrence. After
mentioning the rapid increase of the list of members, and the
improved aspect of the finances of the Institution, he said,—
" One feature of our Constitution seems to me so important,
that I cannot overlook it—l mean the weekly meetings of-our
Members, which are characterised by a natural and friendly in-
terchange of information ; and at which he that is so fortunate
as to have any new discovery to impart, any new views to dis-
close, or any illustrations of art, science or literature,' to offer'
may explain and illustrate them to an audience, destitute of *rake'
severity—free from all feelings of jealousy and rivalship, unre-
stricted by useless forms and obsolete ceremonies, and always (as
experience caeninstructs v
prseriouslyomote the
v views of
thobelieve)sew hroeadeoy
in, able le
forward, an d willing
• independent
iene,
til
e
etoxand
thankfully to receive tb.. iZormation which they impart. This
fterautettutehoaft
the
er
elxnpsetiettuat:iconneseeofmiststobebneeafitsvearnydimadpovanrtatintegotztt
have ventured,to hold out, will be more than realised': that What
has begun so auspiciously will continue to thrive ;
intercourse will tend to remove those petty jealousies and-hurtful
so apt to feel,
feelings of ill-will which badly regulated minds are
when they witness the success of contemporaries and the programs
and tthat such
ofeferuinvgals ;thaantdo,fina short,
n earnest lde add;
shierto e
pfrooonrtee
tchtgEweeraia,nflarad endxo
extension
nsionofth
promotion of literature, an
arts."

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