The Sun.
London, England, 1842-06-16 00:00:00

77 .TRO:-.:sr,Vr.VlwpoN,,, T. auRSDAY-PYYNTN.O.7O;'-.J11774,T5._. NI 1842.1.

LITERA'T'URE.

FATHER CONNELL. 3 V.
Newby, London, 1845.' **--
The chief interest of this story centres in rather.
Connell—an Irish Catholic priest, whose character
Banim has unfolded with great minuteness and
particularity, as though it were an especial ftivourite
with him. The worthy Father is represented as
being all that a Christian pastor should be—meek,
generous, lofty-minded, tolerant, courageous in the
discharge of his duty, and ever ready to whisper the
words of encouragement in the ears of those who have
erred, but who have repented of their errors. It was
difficult to pourtray such an exemplary character as
this, and not throw an air of insipidity over it, arising
out of its very perfection ; but Mr. Banim has suc-
ceeded in overcoming this difficulty, and produced a
portrait full of spirit and interest. The introductory
chapters, however, where the old man is first brought
on the scene of action, are somewhat tame and formal;
the descriptions of his every-day costume, of his
chapel, of his private dwelling, and of his Twelfth
night's merry-making therein, have the preciseness of
an auctioneer's catalogue; and it is not till we
become better acquainted with him, and his exalted
worth developes itself, not by set descriptions, but by
action, as in the drama, that he wins our admiration,
and slides into our heart. In the earlier scenes we
find him playing the part of friend and guardian to a
fatherless boy, Edmund Fennell, for whom he obtains
the means of earning a decent livelihood, and whom he
marries at a fitting age to Helen Mac Neary, an
affectionate, comely young girl, the petted daughter
of a rough, kind-hearted Protestant farmer. Un-
fortunately, the elder Mac Neary disapproves the
match, and on learning that his opposition is fruitless,
the parties having already been secretly united, he
turns his child out of doors at midnight, in a paroxysm
of rage, and forbids her ever again to enter his
house. Driven thus an exile from her home, the
hapless girl wanders away towards the parsonage of
Father Connell, in the hopes of finding her husband
there, who is about to start for Dublin on business of
moment ; but on her road she accidentally encounters
a party of ruffians who have just perpetrated a
murderous assault on a young beggar-woman, who,
disgusted with her calling, has left her mendicant
associates, and sought the protection of the good
priest's roof. The bride is discovered and carried off
by these ruffians ; and a few hours after, her husband,
passing near the spot where the supposed murder has
been committed, is taken up on suspicion, and com-
mitted for trial at the assizes. Perjured evidence
having been adduced against him by the very parties
who were themselves the criminals, he is found Guilty,
and sentenced to be hanged. Meanwhile his friends
—Father Connell, in particular—are active in his
behalf; the beggar-girl who was supposed to have
been slain, is 'found .to be still living, having been
found weltering in blood by her own mother, and
conveyed, while in an insensible state, to a place of
safety ; and Edmund Fennel is, in consequence, libe-
rated, and almost immediately afterwards, his young
bride is restored to him, and her father being at
length reconciled to the match, they are left at the
clOse of the narrative, in a state of very ecstatic con-
nubial felicity, with but one drawback on their hap-
piness—namely, the death of Father Connell, who has
expired at Dublin on his way to seek an interview
with the Lord Lieutenant, on behalf of his young
friend, Edmund Fennell. The story, in places, is told
with uncommon vigour ; the description of the sup-
posed murder on the heath ; of old Mac Neary's angry
parting with his daughter; and of the last interview
between the ruffians previous to the perpetration of
the crime, is replete with sombre interest as pro-
found as that which pervades every volume of the
author's master-piece " The Nowlans." We quote a
passage which, we think, will fully warrant our
assertion. While wandering -at midnight from her
enraged father's house, Helen Mac Neary meets with
this tragical adventure :
The next morning as the thought of the long, long
night came upon her, she once more started up, and tot-
tered in the direction of the river. The noise of the
falling water grew more distinct. The clouds had now
almost entirely passed away from the moon, which,
quietly mounting higher and higher in the heavens,
flung her almost perfect light over the open country ;.
and gaining a little courage, from this seemingly good
omen, Helen, with increased pain and suffering, slowly
proceeded on her course. She passed two fields, crossing
their dividing fences with the utmost difficulty. She
reached the summit of a third boundary ; the noise of
the weir came with certainty upon her ear, and she
was sure that she saw the moonbeams glittering and
dancing upon the white foamy water which the barrier
caused. She praised God again, and scrambled, and
sometimes crawled forward, on hands and knees. One
field only remained between her and the river-side, and
that was a rapid descent.
Suddenly men's voices, in angry discussion, fixed her
attention, and the sound seemed to arise between her
and the very point she had to attain. This was terrible ;
instinctively, she looked round for a hiding-place.
Above where she stood, was a little hollow on the hill-
side, partially screened by briars, and bushes. To it
she crept, and down into it, again lacerating herself
with thorns and broken branches ; and crouching
among the bushes, listened with all her power of
hearing, to the very voices that filled her with horror.
She had lost, without attending to the loss, her bundle,
her bonnet, and even her cloak.
The loud talking ceased, and there was but one man's
voice nOw heard, but this one was fearfully harsh and
abrupt. Then female tones, in prayer and expostulation,
mingled with it ; then, female screams, shrill, long, and
piercing, rang through the night air ; and then, Helen
heard the noise of a heavy blow, and the long shrieks
suddenly stopped, subsiding into a low, melancholy cry,
followed by deep, deep moans ; and a second blow, ac-
companied by a hissing sound, of the human breath, such
as workmen utter, when they labour with the hatchet.
Perfect silence ensued, for a short time, only interrupted
by the whispering of the night breeze through the grass,
and through the bushes, and by the gentle fall of water,
I near at hand.. _ _

Oh, that was a pause of thrilling horror to Helen ! for,
above all her previous suffering, fear, and confusion, the
conviction that she had overheard the doing of a murder,
curdled her pure heart's blood, arid made her very soul
cower within her !

Hasty footsteps entered the little hollow, and paused
within a few feet of where she lay concealed.!
" This is the place that the ould divil bid us wait for
him," said a hoarse, deep voice, but in cautious tones.
"It is," answered another person—and the two words
were spoken with a shudder.
" That was a black act," continued the first voice.

"Oh, it was a bloody deed ! Oh, the thought of this
night will never lave my mind, never, never ! I would'nt
wish for all the world's coin, if 'twas laid before me this
moment, that I didn't stop the hand of that hell-bird !
Oh, she was a darlin', poor young crature ! Why
didn't we save her, Paul ?"

" That oath ! that frightful oath !"
" I'd break fifty oaths if I had the power of savin' her
over a„,cren or if I could bring back the life to my poor
beautiful !frlary—l would—l would," and the man whom
his confreres called Molocth, or the wicked, suddenly
stopped speaking, for his throat filled un to suffocation,
and a throe of very agony was labouring in his black
bosom.

SIR HENRY CAVENDISH'S DEBATES.
Part V. Longman, London, 1842.
The Parliamentary debates reported in this Part
are all of the session of 1770 ; and the first thing that
will strke the reader on perusing them, is the ex-
traordinary zeal and activity displayed by Burke.
Not a question of the slightest moment arises, but
he figures among the prominent speakers. His tongue
seems never still for an instant, and his observations
—judging from the Ministerial replies—are evidently
those which most rivet the attention of the House.
Charles Fox, as yet but in his dawn, appears, com-
paratively speaking, but seldom on the tapis ; and
when he does get upon his legs, it is but for a short
time, and his eloquence is by no means of that corn-
manding character which it afterwards assumed. We
know, from the statements of his contemporaries,
that at this period Burke was the recognised leader
of the Opposition in the House of Commons, and we
here find him on every question figuring as the
great hero of the day ; and never was a post
so hardly won, and so gallantly maintained,
in the face of a thousand difficulties ! Those
who live in the present times, when the barriers that
separate the aristocracy from the commonalty are
considerably weakened, and in some respects broken
down ; who are in the daily habit of seeing upstart
wealth assume that position in society, which of old
was occupied exclusively by the patrician classes; and
who find distinguished literary and scientific men
moving, as by right, and on terms of equality, in the
highest circles, can have no idea of the difficulties
that in the last century beset the path of the ambi-
tious adventurer who, like Burke, had nothing but
his talents to rely on for success. The English aris-
tocracy was then the haughtiest, most jealous, and
most bigoted in Europe, and the Rockingham, or old
'Whig section of it, was decidedly the worst in these
respects. And it was among this inveterately preju-
diced portion of the nobility that Burke's lot in early
life was thrown. Had he possessed manner, address,
the graces of polished drawing-room conversation, or
a weighty purse—such as the Peet family have always
possessed—to back his•pretensions, his course, though
still a troublous and difficult one, would have been
far smoother than it was ; but he possessed none of
these requisites ; he Was an abrupt, uncourtly
scholar ; lie was embarrassed by an obnoxious
byogue ; he had not the slightest power of small-
talk • and, what was still more to his disadvantage,
he had scarcely a sixpence in the world that he could
call his own. Yet in the face of these multiplied and
almost insuperable difficulties, he won his way, step
by step, to the loftiest eminence, showing—as he has
himself told us with a generous pride, in his match-
less Letter to the Duke of Bedford—" his ticket at
every toll-bar," and trusting to nothing but his own
gigantic ipopept and indomitable perseverance. To-
wards the close of his cF§r, he became decidedly the
most influential politician Europe, though he
held no official post, yet if 'was his iyrifings and
speeches Aug most of all tended to precipitate the
armies of the Allies on Revolutionary France, and
his example that atrengtheue44l4 howls ef the hflais-

try, by breaßing up''the unity of the Whig party. We
do not saY this by way of euloglum, for Burke's conduct
from 1791, down to "the close of his public life, was
'anything but commendable, or in accordance with
thepiinciples which he had, till then maintained ; but
we instance it, merely as a proof of the astonishing
ascendancy he had gained over men's minds. And
that ascendancy which he exercised when living, he
still continues to exercise, through the medium of his
works. Though the man himself has long since
passed from among us, yet the better portions of him
—his .wisdom, his philosophy, his imagination, and
his eloquence—still survive to delight, to instruct, and
to elevate our minds. In the Part before us, his
speeches are reported in a most meagre and unsatis-
factory manner ; but scanty as are the records, they
nevertheless enable us to form a tolerably correct idea
of the powers of the speaker. From the structure of
the skeleton, we can judge of the strength and sta-
ture of the man.

STANDARD NO i'LL$, No. 88.
Bentley, London, 12.,
In this number of the Standard Novels, we have a
republication of the late Theodore Hook's clever tale
of " All in the Wrong," complete in one volume. The
work is embellished with two engravings, each illus-
trative of some remarkable incident in the_story.

-THE CURE OF BLMDNESS.

(From the Literary Gaz,:tie of June 11.)
It-has often been the provinse of this journal, dup.
ing more than the quarter of a century of it exist-
ence, and during a period of unparalleled, cultivation
and progress of almost every science, to lend its best
influence towards the knowledge and success of dis-
coveries which promised to promote the well-being of
mankind. Among other efforts of this description,
the Cure for Stammering, by Mr. Hunt, obtained its
warmest commendations ; and the result has at length
arrived when, after a very few years' struggle, amid
all the conflicting claims to mastery over this afflic-
tion, the simple and natural system of that gentle-
man has been called into full practice ; and his pupils
from every part of the kingdom can bear viva yore
testimony to the entire efficacy o*-1' his instructions in
removing the impediments to perfect speech.
To have a faculty improved or restored is of inap-
preciable value to man, and especially in all the prin-
cipal -professions and pursuits of civilised life; but
even throughout all the grades of society the most
importanisevents may hinge upon the possession or
non-possession of some common human power. Thus,
the other day, the very preservation of our young and
interesting Queen did, to a certain extent, depend
_on
the want of ready utterance in the boy Pearson, when
agitated by the threatened act of the assassin !* And
this has offered a remarkable illustration of the nature
of the affection itself, and of the excellence of Mr.
Hunt's practice. Young Pearson has attended his
lessons since the event alluded to ; and with such
effect, that, when produced to give evidence on the
trial of Francis, we have no doubt in saying he will
be able to utter his testimony without the slightest
hesitation of any kind, or remaining disorder in the
organs of speech 4
A fact like this is preferable to volumes of testimo-
nials, however high, and of arguments, however well
supported ; but we have only adduced here for the
sake of intreducing to notice another momentous
covery touching another sense, with experiments in
which we last week felt it to be our duty to make
ourselves acquainted.
Three weeks ago (Literary Gazette, 1322), in a
Notice to Correspondents, we mentioned that we had
" heard of Mr. (Dr.) Turnbull's Cure of Blindness
by the Fumes of Prussic Acid, but had no personal
knowledge of the process ;" which notice immediately
procured us an invitation from Dr. Turnbull to wit-
ness the cases of several patients, from five or six to
above twenty years of age, who were under his treat-
ment for this sad calamity. We accordingly attended;
and it is not easy to express our astonishment and
gratification at what we saw. The various stages of
cure, advanced in our presence, by the simple appli-
cation, for about half a minute, or until a little warmth
was felt by the patient, of the vapour of hydrocyanic
acid, in a small phial, held up to the eye, with an
aperture fitting the form of that organ ; the various
nature of the diseases so assailed—opacities of the
cornea, inflammation, cataract, amaurosis, irritis, &c.
&c.; the various stages of relief which the patients ,
had reached, with sometimes one eye opened to sight
and pleasurable to look upon, and the other left nearly
blind and in its pristine deformity, to show what had -
been achieved; the various appearances of films re-
moving, cataracts breaking up and being gradually
reabsorbed, pupils being redeveloped, and other alto-
gether extraordinary symptoms of remedy and rege-
neration filled us, we 'repeat, with wonder and de-
light.
One child had been totally blind from six days old;
had been taught to read on the raised letters by the
humane system taught in the Blind School ; but it
could now see these letters, and it was a curious phe-
nomenon to behold—could equally read them by
touch and by sight ! ! The only difference was a
singular alteration in the tone of voice and pronun-
ciation when reading in the two ways ; that by the
eye being far more natural, and like the usual reading
to which we are accustomed, than the other, which
was monotonous, and with an air of difficulty even
amid the singular readiness acquired by this method.
Other cases there were of the wonderful production
of the power of vision to those born blind ; but we
select the case of a girl twenty-two years of age, and
therefore fully capable to comprehend and to answer
any question put to her. In utter darkness for
thirteen years previously to her comming under Dr.
Turnbull's treatment, she now can see her way, and
can distinguish countenances and colours.
If possible, a more marked instance of the efficacy
of the curative process was exhibited in a young man,
who had worked for many years at bookbinding. In-
flammation, and subsequent eminent treatment, lancing
&c., had rendered him so totally blind, that for some,
time before, and during the first two or three attend •
antes for the application of the prussic acid vapour, he
was obliged to be led. But he told us, that now he
could safely dispense with such aid, and readily discern
objects. Soon, we have little doubt, he will be re-
stored.to his calling and to independence.
Another most interesting example of the value of
this discovery was that of a gentleman from Canada.
He had been afflicted in one eye with cataract and
blindness for ten years. His remark to us was, that
when he first came to England he could not, with the
diseased eye, distinguish a cow from a horse. He now
with it could mark and recognise countenances, and
could appreciate the visible distinctions of a sovereign
and a shilling: This he did in our presence, but much
more readily after the vapour of the highly concen-
trated acid had dilated the pupil, and, to a certain
degree, even in the short space of time occupied by
the action of the vapour, attenuated or dispersed the
cloudy coats of the cataract.
Having witnessed and assured oumelves of the rea-
lity of these things, we sought the rationale, the
source of the discovery, and the causes of the effects.
Dr. Turnbull's answer was, that the datum which had
suggested the first experiments to him was the evi-
dence afforded in all cases of death from poisoning
with prussic acid ; it was recorded, in every instance,
that the eye of the corpse was observed for days as
clear and lucid as if still in life. This led him to
conceive that the acid exerted a specific action on the
eye. He argued that any medicament which produced
such a symptom after disease, must possess certain
powers over the living subject s and he ventured upon
his course of investigation accordingly. The princi-
ple was speedily developed. The eye and all around
it soon dilated and reddened. It was evident that the
red arterial blood rushed into the minutest fibres of the
veins, and excited a strong action throughout the
whole of the capillary processes. Not the slightest
pain arose ;. a sedative influence appeared to be exer-
cised on the nerves of sensation, and even, if inflam-
mation existed, it was rapidly removed. The eye,
however,. presented all the symptoms of violent in-
flammation, which is the truly natural curative pro-
cess, yet without the suffering of the struggle between
nature and disease. The humours became quickly
and singularly active; by degrees the seat of the dis-
ease was assaulted, and a healthful tendency created,
either to supply • deficiencies or to remove obstruc-
tions. By repeating the applications the cures were
completed. • • .
The first thought that suggested itself to us, having
no near or dear relative so heavily afflicted, was the
restoration to the blessings of the faculty of vision of
an amiable and much-befoved Prince. Painful opera-
tions have been tried with little or no success. Here
was, then, a treatment involving no suffering, entailing
no distressing consequence, endangering no other
faculty ; hut, to our conviction, ensuring relief and
restoration. " Why not at once make known this dis-
covery to•the Prince of Hanover ?" we exclaimed. In
answer we were pleased to he informed that on that
very morning four gentlemen had witnessed the treat-
ment, had been, eqpally with us, delighted with the
wonders of the hydrocyanic vapour, and with the hope
of cure for the illustrious scion of our Royal Family.
One of them, personally intimate with the King, had
expressed his intention 'forthwith to communicate what
he had observed to Prince George of Hanover.
On inquiry what the results might be on old or short
sights, Dr. Turnbull laughingly replied, that hydro-
cyanic acid would soon supersede spectacles ; it so al-
tered and helped the vision in either case, that no
doubt could exist of its applicability to their relief and
restoration. Be this as it may, we hesitate not strongly
to recommend the wonderful discovery of the Cure for
Blindness.

* Had it not been for the information conveyed from
this boy Pearson to Sir Peter Laurie, and by him
promptly communicated to the Court, it is a fearful pro-
bability that the Queen would have perished. To the
appointment of equerries (Cols. Wylde and Arbuthnot),
to ride on each side of the carriage so as to cover her
Majesty's person, on the Monday, we firmly believe it
is, under Providence. owing that the nation have to
bless Heaven for the failure of the assassin's blow.—
Ed. L. G. _ _ _

f When he endeavoured to tell Sir Peter Laurie what
had happened, he could not utter a word ; and now,
after a few lessons, we have heard him repeat Mrs.
Norton's touching lines on the former attempt of Oxford,
without stumbling at a single syllable.—Ed. L. G.

THE CASE or MR. CAREW, THE SCULPTOR.—This
ease, which was heard in the Insolvent Debtors' Court, was
incidentally mentiooed in the Court on Tuesday. In the
course of an opposition the case of Mr. Carew was referred to,
and at the close of the investigation the Learned Chief Com-
missioner said, that as the case had been alluded to, he would
state a circumstance which came to his knowledge on the pre-
vious day, which had occurred with regard to Mr. Carew. He
had been informed be a gentleman that the executors of Lord
Egremant had actually paid the costs of the action which Mr.
Carew brought against them to establish the claim he alleged
he had against Lord Egremont. The bar also said they had
so heard, and Mr. Cooke remarked that the executor had made
the same offer before, but Mr. Carew declined at that period to
consider the matter sufficiently final. The Chief Commis-
sioner added, that he thought the conduct of the executors
very liberal. It will be recollected that Mr. Carew brought an
action against Sir C. Burrell, M.P., and Colonel Wyndham,
the executors, to try the questior of his claim, and on which
he was nonsuited. The executors had uffe?ed to pay the costs
of the said action, which were about 600/., but it was not con.
side: ed by Mr. Carew that they :esti n had been finally d. 040.
The costs had, however, now been paid.
Sir 11. Williamson took .departure for the North
last evening in the Gerstral Steam Navigation Company's
am steer City of Hamborgh, fur Newcastle.

THE WEATHEE..—Noox, JUNE 16.
ROYAL GALLERY OF SCIENCE, ADELAIDE-STREET.
Thermometer.... 66 Highest 7l I Lowest 5O

Barometer 30.08.—Wind N.V.