Star.
London, England, 1830-01-23 00:00:00

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THE DEVIL'S DRIVE.
From Moore 's Life of Byron.
The following stanzas are part of a wild poem which was written
by Lord Byron, who states that be took the notion from " Por-
son's Devil's Walk." They are worth eattacting, as they show
the strange talent of this extraordinary man.
The Devil retorted to bell by two,
'And be staid at Imam to live ;
Whoa he dined on some homicides dale in vegeta.
And a rebel or so in an big stew,
Aod gassers made of a self-slain Jew,
And betbonglo himself what next to do,
" And," spunk be, " I'll take a drive.
I walk'd in the morning, FIR ride to-night ;
In darkness my children sake most delight,
And I'll see bow my favourites thrive.
" And what shall I ride tor troth Lucifer, then—
" If I follow'd my taste, indeed,
I should mount in a waggon of wounded men,
And smile to see them bleed.
But these will be fumbled again and again,
And at present my purpose is speed ;
To see my manor as much as I may,
And watch that DO souls shall be poacb'd away.
" I have a stage coach at C Home,
A chariot in Seymour-place;
But they're lent to two friends, who make me amends
By driving my favourite pace;
•
And they handle their reins with such a grace,
I have something for both at the end of their race.
" So stow for the earth to take my chance,"
Then up to the earth sprung be;
And making a jump from Moscow to France,
He stepp'd avow the sea,
And rested his boot on a turnpike road,
No very great way from a bishop's abode.
But first as he flew, Iforgot to say,
That be bovired a moment upon his way
To look upon Leipslc plain ;
And so sweet to Ma eye was its sulphory glare,
And so soft to his ear was the cry of despair.
That he percb'd on a mountain of slain ;
And be gazed with delight on its growing height,
Nor often en earth bad he seen such a sight,
Nor his work done half as well:
For the field ran so red with the blood of the dead.
That it blushed like the waves of Hell!
Then loudly, std wildly, and long laughed he ;
" Methinks they have here tittle need of me J"
But the softest note that modest his ear
Was the sound of a widow sighing ;
And the sweetest sight was the icy tear
Which horror froze in the blue eye clear
Of a maid by her lover lying—
As round her fell bee long fair hair;
And she look'd to Heaven with that frenzied air
Which seened to ask if a God were there
And, stretcb'd by the wall of a ruin'd hut,
With its hollow cheek, and eyes half shut,
A child of famine dying :
And the carnage begun, when resistance Is done,
And the fall of the vainly flying!
But the Devil has reacb'd our cliffs so white,
And what did he there, I pray ?
If his eyes were good, he but saw by night
What we see every day ;
But he made a tour, and kept a journal
Of all the wondrous sights nocturnal.
And he sold it in shares to the Men of the Rot,,
Who bid pretty well—but they cheated him, though!
The Devil first saw, as be thought, the Mail,
Its coachman and his coat
So instead of a pistol be cock'd his tail,
And seiz'd Dim by the throat :
Aba," Toads he, "what have we bete?
'To a new barouche, and an ancient peer!"
So he sat him on his box again,
And bade him have no fear,
But be true to his club, and staunch to his rein,
Ilia brothel, and his beer;
•• Nest to seeing a lord at the council board,
I would rather see him bete."
The Devil got next to Westminster,
And be turn'd to " the room " of the Commons ;
But be beard, as he purposed to enter in there,
That " the Lords had received a summons;
And he thought, as • " quonwktm Aristocrat,"
He might peep at the peers, though to hear them were Sat s
And he walk'd up the house so like one of our own,
That they say that he stood pretty near the throne.
He saw the Lord I.—l seemingly wise,
The Lord W.--d certainly silly,
And Johnny of Norfolk—a man of some size—
And Chatham, so like his friend Billy ;
And be saw the tears in Lord E—n's eyes,
Because the Catholics would not rise.
In spite of his prayers and his prophecies;
And be heard—which set Satan himself a staring—
A certain Chief Justice say something like revering.
And the Devil was abock'd—and +Kelt be " I mast go,
For I find we have muck better manners below,
If thus he harangues when Impasses my border.
I shall hint to friend Moloch to call him to order."

FUNERAL OF MR. OLIVER CLAYTON.—Yesterday,
at about one o'clock, the mortal remains of this unfortunate gen-
tleman were removed from his residence, Wood's lintel, Arundel.
street, Pantoo-square, for interment, at St. James's Church,
Piccadilly. The tuneral was private and select, and was attended
by a few of the deceased gentleman's most particular friends.
DEATH OF RALPH SHERWIN, THE ACTOR.—We
have with regret to announce the death of this eccentric, but clever
artist sod hoer, at his father's residence, In the country. Sherwin
was a well-educated man, and had attained, by strong applkation,
considerable medical knowledge ; as a disciple, however, of Racy-
Ispius. be had more fervour than judgment, and at an early period
he relinquished the profession for the stage, and displayed such
talent in the provincial theatres as secured for him an engagement
at Drury-lane Theatre- He appeared in, and played successfully,
DendyDiresserst in Guy Mannering. His personation of Yorkshire
characters obtained for him a respectable standing amongst" his
Majesty's servants ;" but his irregularities were such as to induce
the Manager to dispense with his services; but being of an active
mind and eccentric habits, he betook himself to coach.driviog, and
wended eminently amongst the • Knights of the Whip, until
accident plunged many of his passengers into the kennel, and be
then returned with promise and repentance to '• fret and strut his
hour upon the stage." Sherwin could sketch likenesses (particu-
larly the various faces of his theatrical brethren), with astonishing
quickness and fidelity—could imitate all the actors of eminence.
A woman living at Autun, being on her way on horse-
back, a few days ago, to Chateau Chinon, was overtaken by a
horseman, who entered into conversation with her. In the course
of the colloquy she told him that she was going to the latter place
to pay the sum of S,ooofr. Her companion replied that he was
bound thither also, and proposed to I together. Upon reach-
ing a lonely part of the road, the man dieted, and drawing a pistol
demanded the I,ooofr. After some hesitation. the threw down
the money, and rode of at full speed. It so happened that the
ribber had let go his bridle, and his horse galloping off after the
ether, arrived at Chateau Chinon at the same time. The woman
immediately made a declaration of all the circumstances to a ma-
gistrate; and upon a cloak-case attached to the saddle of the
stranger's horse being 'sambaed, it was found to contain 5.4:00:r.00
that the highway man is 3,000 fr. minus by the adventure.—
Gehalsessie Messmer.
At the Haymarket Theatre on Monday night last (the
benefit of Mr. Isaacs and his family,) long before the doors were
thrown open, the crowd reached woes the road opposite the
theatre. Mr. George Stansbury, the chorus-master of Covent-
garden, bad kindly volunteered his service" to lead the band at the
Haymarket, and on his way to the stage-door, for the purpose of
commenting his labour, he bad occasion to pass through a portion
of the crowd; he had not. however, proceeded far. before be was
attacked by a gang of pickpockets, one or two of whom struck hint
on the head, whilst the others unbuttoned his can and waist
coat. and robbed him of a valuable gold watch, gold twisted
chain, keeper, and three gold seals, upon one of which were em
graved his initials, with whisk they escaped through she mob. At
cheapening of the doors the crush was so tremendous, and the cries
and shrieks of the women so vehement. that great spprehensleu was
enteetaised for their safety, and the confusion coosespeorlepon
such t scene of corametaim affeeded the thieves so itresiedislO op-
pertuoitg for the exercise of their Deadens propendtfirs. Ladies'
shawls and retieukii Were toep from their shoulders and acme ; tead
several gentlemen were "eased of Mk •14 moveables' is
watches, pones. Sec. A gentleowia residing it Rood-lane In the.
City, bid a valuable diimon4 pin takes, from 'bir boson: while
escorting some ladies to the boxes.

4

THE METROPOLITAN FEMALE ASYLUM.
INTERESTING COMMUNICATIONS. •
TO THE EDITOR OF THE STAR.
Sia—l take the liberty of most respectfully sabiolaing my testi-
mony (in ad.lition to the following letter,) which is founded upon
my experience. I have known many heart-broken and contrite
unfortunates that would have returned to the paths of virtue. but
bad not the means of doing It ; every door Hosed against her—
every band lifted up to punis►, but none to reclaim or save bur.
Fail well do I how that the *rests of London contain many a
past creature in whose minds the latent seeds of honesty and troth
are to be found—in whose breast the early impression of a virtuous
education can never be destroyed. Where is the man who boasts
the name of Christian, sod can see a defenceless and suffering peni-
tent exhibiting suck a disposition, amid the disadvantages of conti-
nual crime and necessity, and not feel the strongest sympathy for
such a ore? I think there can be none. The infant asylum in
question I know well, and believe it le founded upon the best and
purest principles of such a receptacle. lam sure there can be no
doubt, and I hope the public will soon feel as deep an interest in it
as its founder, and your very humble servant.

(84Did)

JS. THOMAS.
Soperlntendent of Police.
Tork Street, Covent Garden.

TO THE EDITOR. OF THE STAR.

Sta—Permit me, through the medium of your Journal, to draw
the attention of the public towards the number of those unfortunate
females who nightly prowl the streets of this Metropolis, and who
must be considered in every respect a national calamity and dis-
grace to the inadequacy of the present institutions for their relief,
and the utter state of destitution and distress which prevail,
amongst them.
It is not necessary, I trust, in this day, distinguished for its
philanthropy, to advocate the cause of her who is without an ad-
vocate; for, of all classes of society, there is not ooe who is more
the object of our sympathy than the hapless street-walker—she
who is without a Mend—without a home—the door of whose
parent is closed—who is deterred by shame or fear from seeking
relief from those to whom she once was bound by the nearest ties
of Nature—who is an outcast of society, and complied to associate
with those, who, like her, have trampled over virtue : for, if there
be any one object of pure charity more precious and important
than any other, it is that of rescuing such a sinner from the errors
of her ways, and to step in, where the assistance of a stranger is
necessary. to restore the link which once bound her to society and
her friends—to heal the moral breach. and dissolve the fatal cor-
ruption and influence which she has produced.
To hear the name of unfortunate females, naturally Induces the
recollection of those societies which have been instituted for their
reception and reform; and no one can read the reports of the Lan-
don Female Penitentiary, the Magdalen. and the Guardian, with-
out feelings of heartfelt satisfaction at the happy results attend-
ing their efforts for rescuing such sinners from the errors of their

ways.
But no one who bat enquired into the evil can avoid regretting
that the existence of those institutions, does appear to have de-
barred the exercise of Christian philanthropy on a more extended
scale towards these hapless objects. While our ears have been
gladdened at the rescue of one immortal soul or her restoration to
society, we have, however, heard nothing of the cries of the
hundreds who unsuccessfully apply to obtain admission into these
institutions, or the thousand who have never heard of their ex-
isteoce ; which, unlike any other appeal to British sympathy, pass
down the stream of time unheeded, and sink into quiescence only
when the mourners themselves repose in oblivion ; and she who,
were she a daughter of Africa, or a widow of India, would have
her tale reverberated throughout our land, and probably re-
echoed in our Senate, must now shed the tear of penitence without
a friendly hand to wipe it away; and although our country-woman
perish in Infamy, wretchedness, and sin.
What refuge has the unhappy female now, when brought to ac-
knowledge the errors of her ways? This question has been but
little considered. The poor-house is none; for on application the
Magistracy bare declared that the poor laws are not available for
their support ; and, in order to exhibitit the inadequacy of the
present institution for their reception, it is only necessary to cone
trast the number of those who are annually admitted, not
only with those who are rejected by them, bet with the numbers
who nightly prowl the streets of the metropolis :—The London
Female Pehitentluy contains 110; the Magdalen SO, (who are
retained in each of these institutions for two years;) the Guardian
48, and the Lock Asylum 20; total, 158. The number of unfor-
tunate females who nightly prowl the streets of this metropolis has
been variously estimated, but it probably far exceeds 50,000.
It is this amazing number which makes prostitution appear an
evil of that portentous aspect, that it at once appals the polititiclan
and alarms the moralist—who at once pass it by as too great fur a
remedy. But little do the children of virtue contemplate the real
condition of her to whom they point with the linger of scorn and
contempt—the poor forlorn outcast—the street-walker. Too,
much attention has been paid to denounce a reinishment upon the
criminal, without affording that adequate remedy, without which
all punishment is unjust—the opportunity of ascertaining whether
she is criminal from necessity or choice. I am convinced that the
evil exists to its present alarming extent only on account of those
difficulties which prevent the return of the penitent prostitute to
society ; and that whilst the present difficulties do exist, the evil
ever must remain unmitigated. Comparatively few of those who
&eddy prowl about the streets of this Metropolis did embrace that
unhallowed mode of life from a natural love of a life of indolence
and lust; and the majority of those who did embrace it, upon those
grounds. are brought even in their iniquitous career to a sense of
their lost, wretched, and degraded eituation.

There I. one description of these unhappy objects who are pecu-
liarly the objects of British sympathy, who are kept under restraint
In those brothels called dress houses; where the female is the sole
property of her mistress—all the money obtained by her pi ostitutioo
being taken from her. Into these houses the majority of the females
are decoyed, ender circumstances over which the most virtuous
females can have no cootroul, either to gratify the hest of some vile
seducer. or the earnings of sonar more wretched and vile procures&
Strange is it that this horrid traffic in body and soul, and which to its
victims is infinitely more cruel than he conduct of Burke, or of the
West Indian Slave merchant, has never yet been developed even by
those institutions, which must have been in possession of such facts,
as inevitably would have roused up the just indignation of our na-
tion, so sensible to the appeals of private injury or public wrong
in whatever quarter of the world they may be committed.
The distress which prevails amongst numbers of these unhappy
objects, is of the most abject description. Yesterday three unhappy
outcasts came to me fur relief who bad sc.:reely an under garment
on; the other whose nakedness was only covered with a gown,
bad been exposed in the streets for two nights preceding. To both
the workhouse, or the prison, would have been a luxury!—yet
these are but solitary cases, and the counterpart of numbers which
may be witnessed at almost every corner of the streets of the Chris-
tian metropolis.
Were prostitution not an evil—were it a necessary evil—could
no adequate remedy be found for the evil, some reason might be
urged in extenuation of the apathetic indifference of the public,
towards this important object. But what the cry of the
murderer. the *ordered victim, the unhappy criminal, who
expiates his crimes upon the fatal tree, the; numerous inhabitants
of our gaols, our juvenile criminals, and the dissolution of the dear-
est family cannexions, reply that this is the great cause of an evil
which destroys the peace of the family circle, and even saps our na-
tional prosperity : and If my positions be coerect, and the evil may
be remedied In a great degree, only by affording a facility of return
to society, we are acting an inglorious and unchristian part by neg-
lecting to exercise a remedy, which requires so little mace upon
OW part.
If the in.dequacy of the present instiostioos is proved by the
comparative small number whom they receive, and the numben
they reject, it Is certainly a convincing proof of the Inefficiency of
the principles of relief which they afford. and a cogent reason to
pint out a remedy In some degree more adequate to the evil.
None can be so effectual, as an institution which may be rendered
carload by its general support r and in which the strictest economy
in the domestic arrangements, combined with the principle of self-
support among* the inmates as far as can be effected, is made Its'
leading feature. To this must be associated the immediate ad.
mission of the applicants. On these principles has the Metropu-
titan Female Asylum commenced its operations; and 102 unhappy
objects have, within the Ant four months of its existence, received
suck assistant* se to stub* them to return to society.
The patronage of Mr. Peel has honoured the maritime of the
society, from an enlightened view of its importance, in rendering
efficient the operations of the police. Although in way official c.pa.,
city, I must lot considered to entertain a more decided feeling in '
(avow of the Metrepolikan Pentair Asylum, I sell upon the ge.
mama and eympetkiziog public not alone so aid the exertions if
this inaketion, but to devise my other memo by which the alarm.
leg evil may he remedied. under a COOKIO4I/11111 that be who sees
an evil and whet~ its existence without his exertion (however,
feebly) to it. , Mat be combined a culpable participates%
Idle banner to be. Sir. rase obedient fiergranst.
• ria to as
ll^ ek'l ABRAHAM DOOTH,
lissop;fiec. to the Metropolitan Festal* Asyluo%
*Li, je
tuae.l;r• en, Church street, Shoreffitch.
t")-
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T:'_

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SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

HUNTING.

The Worcestershire Fos Hooods will meet on Tuesday, at Hal-
lawA . Friday, at Virgin's Tavern.
• The Warwickshire Fos Hounds—The Subscribers to the War-
wickshire Housie bad ad ototdos at Warwick on Wed.
Desdali wiled (list Ilona to ood koot the country upon certain
conditioos, should or ether gooleusio wish to take the hounds.
Lord Yarborough's Hounds oo Illooday, at Bradley Wood ; on
Wednesday, at Goithill cuss-lases; oil Friday, at lakington Cow
Pasture; and es Saturday, at &aim Cross-roads.

.POLICE INTELLIGENCE.

BOWIrtitICT. •
A hackney coachman. named Tekw, was brought before Sir it.
Mainz yesterday morning, by Mr. Raymond, a solicitor in Lin.
cokes Inn.

Mr. Raymond stated that some short time ago his lady lost her
gold watch in Tylet's coach ; and a few days afterwards as anony-
mous letter, signed " A Friend to Honesty," was received. in which
it was stated that Tyler bad offered the watch to the writer for on,
which, however, was refused, (although the watch was evidently
worth £16,) because; of the manner in which It had been obtained.
The description of the watch exactly corresponded with that which
Mrs. Raymond had lost, and be (Mr. Raymond) thought himself
wamnted in bringing Tyler before a Magistrate.
Tyler did not deny that be had taken the lady up, but he posi-
tively assured the Magistrate that be knew nothing of the watch.
He took up two fates after he had set the lady down.
Sir R. Brune said that at present he could not interfere, as
the statement of an anonymous writer was no proof If, however.
Mr. Raymond could bring forward " the Friend to Hooesty,"
some further light might be thrown on the mutter.
Mr. Raymond ueclared his intention to use every possible exer-
tion for that purpose.
MA RLBOROU H-STRRET.
A gentleman named Cullom, holding a situations Ina public Ace.
was yesterday brought before the presiding Magistrate, J. E. Co-
nan; Esq. charged under the following circumstances
J. Oppenheim, the proprietor of a cigar divan near the Hay.
market, stated that as the defendant passed his house early in the
morning he broke all his wire work in front of the door, for which
be gave him into the custody of a constable of police.
Mr. Conant enquired what the defendant had to say ?
The gentleman replied that he was passing along with some
friends at four o'clock yesterday morning, when they were attracted
by the light in the complainant's shop, and finding the door shut,
one of the party pushed or pulled at the wire to open it, when one
of the staples came out, and the gentlemen not being Ile to gain
admittance, had walked away rather briskly, when the defendant
was pursued and immediately consigned to duranat
Mr. Conant asked the complainant what the amount of da-
mage was?
Complainant—Ob, twelve 111 np ; when it was Dew it did
cost me that.

kir. Conave—Eut what will cost to mend it?
Complainant said It was entirely broken.
Ballad, the officer, said that it would take half an hour to break
such a thing up.
A Gentleman present observed that sixpence would mend it.
An inspector of Police in that division said, that there were
repeated compl.iints lazing made as to the disorderly state of the
complainant's house.
A respectable shopkeeper next door stepped forward, and said
that be had frtqurntly been obliged to get up in the middle of
the night, and cal. out of tile window for the parties to be quiet;
it was a continuul a env of tumult and confu.ion, and was a com-
plete nuisance.

Some murc convert-410n ensued. in which i: was ascertained
that the complaM-nt re. ailed coffee with hi► cigan at all hours of
the night.

Mr:Cot:Ayr, 'n turning to the Act, remarked that that was
highly illegal, and heed the compl.inant (now the defendant) So.
for allowing coffee to b_ drank upon his premises between the hours
of ten at night anti tix in th t morning, contra!, to the Statute.
Mr. Cullum was di.claarged, on is volunteering to tepair the
wire-work.

At the Magi,trates were about to retire from the Bench yester-
day afternoon. the shiver of a back ny-coach w s placed at the bar,
charged with in'olent coaduct and intimidating behaviour towards
Cul. J. M—, gentleman residing in the Albany
The Colonel stated that be was about to croes from the Albany
yesterday alt.:moon, about hal-past two o'clock, when he saw the
defettelan.'s coach drawn up across the foot way crossing, uthicts
had been swept. H- immediately desired the coachman, who was
seated inside the coach, to draw off; but, though be again repeated
the demand, the fellow never moved. The Gentleman then toeched
the hors.. with i,is umbrella, and they were just moving on, when
the defendant (who is a stout-built man, --pw..rtis of silt feet Mal)
jumped out of the coach, i.nti threw him elf tato : pugilistic atti-
tude, and the Police coming up, be was given into custody, and
then was excessively hioalent.
The coachman, iu deience, said the gentleman struck the um-
brella into his horses, and he put himself into the attitude alluded
to ion the purpost• of defending his master's proparty.
Mr. Cosativ said that the man's conduct had been highly impro-
per. Ilc had no business whatever in the coach, and gentlemen
ware not to walk up to chair knee► in snow to amuse hint.
Mr. Thursby. a County Majistrate, who was on the Bench,
observed that be bad in law committed an assault, and ought to
have mimed when requested.
Mr. Coxaur said gnat if the driver would acknowledge that M.
was in error, he should mitigate the One.
The defendant still attempted to justify his conduct, and was
fined 10*. and iu default to be committed for seven days.

El I(TH.
The lads of Marks Thellusson. Esq. of a son.

MARRIED.

At Paris, George Washington Greene, Beg. of Rhode bland, to
Miu Carlotta, daughter of Louis Sforzosi. Rsq. of Rome.
At Misterton, in Leicestershire, Charles Herrick Burnaby, Esq.
of the royal artillery, to Charlotte Jane, second uaughter of Thos.
Burford Oliver, Req. of the Newark.. Leicester.

DIEU.

At Wenvoe Cade, Glamorgarialore., aged ^.3 years, G. Price
Jenne:, Esq. third son of the late Robert Jenoer, H.q.
At Litton Cottage, in the 53d year of her age, Hannah, young.
est daughter of the late John Beard, Req. of HallwhydLiou, in the
county of Cornwall.

NEWIiArK •so LICADENiiA I ji It hU.I S. Jan. rj.
Berl ..... 3s 4.1 to Si 6d I Veal 4$ 11,1 to 44
uti ..... Si 41 to 44 04 l'u k 81 to 4s 44

'PRICES OF HAY AND STRAW YIiSTHHIJAY.
SIT. JAMES'S. WiterirMAClL.
thy 3115 s 041 to 51 00s 041 Hay 21 10s to 41 108 Od
C!over 31 101 041 to 51 Ss od I C:tave. 31 Os to SI Od
Straw 21 Os Od to 21 Ss od I Straw 11 111, to SI 5$ 04

PRICE OF LEATHER.
first Drii...'ng Hides ...... lB4 to 10
Common Ditto
Crop Hides, 35 to 401bs for cutting
Ditto 45 to 50Ibs 164 to 184
Calf Skim, 36 to 401bs .....
Ditto 50 to 701bs
Ditto 70 to 8011). ... ..
Sinai! Seals, Greenland) .....
'fanned Hur,e Hides 164 to 123
Spatii.li Horse Hides

PRIOR OF

ion, Jan. es.
KM 'AGM

N LW rot:KITS.
Kent l5O, to 189 s 1 Kent ...... 147 s to 188 s
Sussex
I E4,ex 1401 to 180$ Essex 140. to 160.
Farnh ns fine 131. to 151. o—Seconds. 101. to 181.
OW Duty laid at X 39.1180.

PRICE OF OIL.
Rape Oil, b-awn, 411. os. :Ailed, 431. Os.
Llotired OP, WI. 10s.
L rued 0,1 Cake at the Mill, per thousaetl, 111.
Bap* C. per ton, 51. Os. re 01. Os.

PRICS OF SEEDS. Jan. set.
Our market co•t'oues steady since our last quotation. Them is
some demand for Clover, some d .

COAL MARKET, Jan. 22.
Ships :t Market. Ship Sold. I't ice.
44 Newcastle 6i 32. 6d to 37s 0
20 Sunderland 24 ; . 55.6 .ILI re SI 9
0 Yorkablza c
.I.',N 00. ad to 00. •
Scotch Coal 0 us 043 to (Es 41
i Stout Oral * Al far... -000 04 to 001 9
• II Welsh Coal 4 ---*"" 41s Od ,o 00. 0
2 Coins 0 Mis 6d to Ous •
• 0 Cowden
0 001 Od to 00. 0
16 Small Coal * 20s 6d to flOs 0

H
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