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

THE SUN, LONDON, THITRSDAN MORNING, SEPTEMBER 1, 1842.

at a public dinner last. On one of the compartments
of the vase is the following inscription :—" Presented
to Colonel Sir William Robert Clayton, Bart., by 378
Ladies of Great Marlow, and its vicinity, as an ex-
pression of their esteem for his faithful services
through a period of nearly twelve years, during which
time he represented the borough in Parliament, and
also as a testimonial of their deep sympathy and af-
fectionate regard.—August 23, 1842."
SPORTING.

In most of the districts of Ireland grouse-shooting
affords capital sport this season, particularly at Ennis.
One sportsman bagged on the expanse of moor-land
between Bangor and Belmullet, seven and twenty
brace in five hours.
The whole of the Earl of Chesterfield's stud at
Bretby-park is to be brought to the hammer next week.

the perfections of both." This is true, for more
original compositions never yet astonished, delighted,
and mystified the - world. Abounding in tropes,
studded with glittering expletives, like 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 :Riper-
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
sunny, green islands, and bordered: by. picturesque
slopes, dropping 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 schpol of
architecture ; and plants preserves, 11.1.6,,,gamia',- on
a barren moor, where a partridge wimikrW,of
tion, and a jackass find considerablolifficati;
covering a stale thistle ? We wiA:„„ti- 'rag of
Egypt would commission George ts:)' sell,
.the 'Great
Desert in lots. How the dry sand would become ver-
dant pasturages at his touch ! Roses would bloom, bul-
buls would sing, and rivers, flowing with milk and honey,
irradiate the whole face of the landscape, to say no-
thing of " hard and soft water" which would be
seen 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 convert 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 firstrank 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 er.e 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 ?"—" Most solemnly I do."
"Do you ever eat pomegranates ?"-7-" 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 animalculre. The puzzled Hiudoo
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-
malculm, invisible to the naked eye, you can neither eat
nor drink without committing a crime ?"
The abashed !Endo() bowed.
" 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 it 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 had that morning
paid ten guineas fcr it ; and, being a poor man, he could
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 13rahmin took it, gave one look of triumph round
the hall, and suddenly raising his arm, dashed it into a
thousand atoms on themarble floor.

" What do you mean by this ?" exclaimed Clarke, in
undisguised astonishment.
" It means, Sir Christian," replied the Ilindoo 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 in-
teresting, but it is nothing to Mr. Dillon's immortal
record of the " Lord Mayor's Voyage ". and of the
narrow escape this mighty Potentate 11;t1 from ship-
wreck on an uninhabited island near Isleworth.

neighbourhood of a great manufacturing town, there are
several extensive paper works. 'De proprietors of these
having been induced to try -Mr. Basil's patent, ware so
well pleased with its working, as to invite him to a public
dinner before his leaving the place, after seeing his ma-
chines put in action. He had received many threatening
letters from those whom his invention had, for the time,
deprived of their living, and he was given to understand
that a combination, for his destruction, was afoot among
them.

This, however, did not in any degree affect him, and
without taking the slightest notice of it, or even making
any precaution, he went to the party, amid the hootings
of an immense-crowd of labouring people, of every de-
scription, that beset the neighbourhood.
The hall in which it was held was the ball-room of one
of the principal hotels in the place. It had two large
windows opening to the street, and two into a wide grassy
space in its rear. These latter were thrown open to ad-
mit the air. About forty gentlemen dined, and the even-
ing had passed in toasts and complimentary speeches.
Mr. Basil was remarked to preserve throughout a calm
and habitually melancholy expression, though not at.all
such as to depress the general hilarity. How much then
were the company surprised %% hen, on a sudden, they saw
him start into a listening posture, while his face assumed
a look of surprise, anxiety, and deep attention. Presently
his feelings appeared roused to a pitch of extreme excite-
ment, and, while every eye was fixed upon him in silent
wonder, he apologised to the chairman, stating, that
under the open windows lie heard a voice speak, and a
name mentioned, which brought to his memory scenes
long since past, and raised in his mind a curiosity of
which he could not resist the gratification.
Thereupon, rising, he went quickly to the window,
and, bending forwards, looked out. The next instant he
staggered rapidly back, and uttering a scream so strangely
loud and thrilling that the glasses on the table quivered
and rang, fell senseless on the floor.
All immediately sprang up and flew to his assistance.
They found his face covered with what appeared to
them a quantity of mud. especially his eyes were com-
pletely filled with it. Those parts of the features not
reached were of a burning scarlet hue, and his black
neckerchief and the collar 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, so 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 gentlemanpresent, who had been exerting
himself to produce something like order, succeeded in
pressing, as it were, two terrifid 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 scheine had been
to well concocted, and too adroitly executed. The sand
bad 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 endured 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
for other establishments.

lor 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 !