The Sun.
London, England, 1842-06-01 00:00:00

SUN, LONDON, WT)NESDAY EVENING, JUNE I. 1842:

glad to hear it read. He thought they were passing a Bill the
forms of which they were not aware of.
it H. PEEL was understood to say that it was his inten-
tion to introduce such a clause.

After a short conversational discussion, the Bill passed.
SELECT COMMITTEES.
On the motion of the Earl of LINCOLN, the following Se.
lect C9mmittees were appointed :
Dean Forest Poor Bill.—Earl of Lincoln, Sir Thomas Frc.
mantle, Mr. Grantley Berkeley, Mr. Hale, Mr. Esteourt, Mr.
Phillpotts, Mr. Cripps, Mr. Blewitt, Mr. Joseph Bailey, jun
Mr. Fox Maxie, and five to be added by the Committee of
Seleet'on.

On Dear, Forest Ecclesiastical Districts Bili.—Earl of Lin-
coln, Sic Thomas Fremantle, Mr. Grantley Berkeley, Mr.
Hate, Mr. Estcourt, Mr. Phillpotts, Mr. Cripps, Mr. Blewitt,
Mr. Joseph Bailey, jun., Mr. Fox Maule, and five to be added
by the Committee of Selection.
On St. Briavel's SIT all Debts Bill.—Earl of Lincoln, Sir
Thomas Fremantle, Mr. Grantley Berkeley, Mr. Hale. Mr.
Estcourt, Mr. Phillpotts. Mr. Cripps, Mr. Blewitt, Mr.
Joseph Bailey, jun., Mr. Fox Maule, and five to be added by
the Committee of Selection.

•+ • n 4 .1.,

perplexed with humiliating expedients to sustain exist-
ence. Still we must judge of his public- ability by its
public effect. The eloquence which won the universal
alniration of a time of remarkable ability, must have
been true eloquence. What orator since has produced
an equal impression ? What distinguished effort of any
Parliamentary speaker has ever attained the,same dis-
tinctions ? To what speech of any man of his time did
the head of the Ministry, the head of the Opposition,
and the head of the political writers of England or the
w,x•ld—Pitt, Fox, and Burke----offer. the same emulous
panegyric ? These are proofs, evidences to which we
have never heard an answer, and to which we never ex-
pect to hear one.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
The adventures of Mrs. Trollope's favourite Bar-
nabys in America, are recounted with less spirit and
humour than usual. There is too little incident, and
too much prosy dialogue which rather encumbers
than helps on the plot, in the present chapters. The
authoress appears solicitous rather to supply a cer-
tain amount of matter with the first crude notions
that suggest themselves, than to develope character
with skill and propriety. Yet her notion of making
the Widow Barnaby write a volume of travels in Ame-
rica is not amiss, and should create much merriment,
if cleverly followed up. The good lady is now just
on the threshold of her literary undertaking, and talks
a world of dull twaddle on, the subject with a Mrs.
Beauchamp, whose portrait is, we suspect, greatly
overcharged. Her pretty daughter, Annie, with her
strong prejudices against England and everthing
English, is delineated with far more effect, and bids
fair to become the redeeming feature of the story.
The "Schoolmistress Abroad" is an imitation of Sterne's
quaint, abrupt mode of sketching scenes and incidents
of travel. It is by Mr. Hood, but possesses little of
his drollery, for he appears to have undertaken the
subject not eon amore, but as a sort of task-work.
"An Essay on Legs" is light arid fanciful. " Short
Rides in an Author's Omnibus" contains some sensi-
ble remarks on the folly of those who would prevent,
if they could, every species of innocent amusement on
the Sabbath, and allow the poorer classes to cultivate
nothing but a long face. "It is difficult to say," re-
marksrto
" which predominates, the
cruelty 0 of these proposed restric-
trictions, recollect that they emanate from
ri, 1
rr
when. the HoraceNN
selfishness
Smith,
parties who have six days in the week for their amuse-
ment; and that their rigour falls 'exclusively upon the
humbler classes, who have but one for the purposes of
innocent and healthful recreation. It used to be held that
he who gives to the poor lends to the Lord ; but our
Cantwells seem to imagine that what they take from
the poor, they give to the Lord, an opinion equally
unworthy of a good man, and derogatory to a benig-
nant Deity." We take credit to ourselves for having
always opposed, to the utmost of our power, the efforts
of the Agnewites to convert the Sabbath into a day of
gloom and contrition, when it should be one of inno-
cent, lawful recreation. A Sunday mortification is a
thing we do not profess to understand—and we have
been no inattentive readers of Sacred writ—but a
Sunday repose and cheerfulness of nature is
just what accords with our . notions of true
unaffected piety. Woman's Love," professes to be a
tale founded on faeeltis by Mr. Sheridan Knowles, and
is told with earnestness, but rather too much in thiit
jerking, epigrammatic style so characteristic of this
author. " Professional Idiosyncrasy" is an ingenious
idea, skilfully worked out. " That clothes," says the
writer, " do in fact exert some considerable influence
on the disposition, is manifest in the case of the
barrister, on whom the wig and gown exercise a-
paramount sway, enabling him to browbeat witnesses,
and to advance impertinent inuendoes, not to say, ab-
solute untruths, in a way that he would be ashamed
to practice, when divested of these habiliments." A
whimsical theory, somewhat similar to this, may be
found in one of the early chapters of Swift's " Tale
of a Tub." " Spring" is a lively poem from the pen
of the editor. But the reader shall -judge for him-
self :

Come gentle Spring ! ethereal mildness come !"
Oh 1 Thomson, void of rhyme as well as reason,
How couldst thou thus poor human nature huui ?
There's no such season.
The Spring ! I shrink and shudder at her name !
For why, I find her breath a bitter blighter !
And suffer from her blows as if they came
From Spring the Fighter.
Her praises then, let hardy poets sing
And be her tuneful laureates and upholders
Who do not feel as if they had a Spring
Pour'd down their shoulders •!
Let others eulogize her floral shows,
From me they cannot win a single stanza,
I know her blooms are in full flow—and so's
The influenza !

Her cowslips, stocks, and lilies of the vale,
Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at,
Her pansies, daffodils, and primrose pale,
Are things 1 sneeze at !
Fair is the vernal quarter of the year !
And fair its early buddings and her blowings—
But just suppose Consumption's seeds appear,
W lib other sowings !
For ine, I find, when eastern winds are high
A frigid, not a genial inspiration ;
Nor can, like Iron-Chested Chubb, defy
An inflammation.
Smitten by breezes from the land of plague,
To me all vernal luxuries are fables,
Oh where's the Spring in a rheumatic leg,
Stiff as a table's ?
I limp in agony—l wheeze and cough ;
And quake with Ague that great Agitator ;
Nor dream, before July, of leaving off
My Respirator.

What wonder if in May itself I lack
A peg for laudatory verse to hang on ?
Spring mild and gentle?—yes, as Spring-heeled. Jack
Lu those he sprang on I
In short, whatever panegyrics lie
Iu fulsome odes too many to be cited,
The tenderness of Spring is all my eye,
And that is blighted !

w~ `~ e r

;

And now what a din
Without and within !
For the court-yard is full of them.—How they begin
To mope, and to mowe, and make faces, and grin
Cock their tails up together,
Like cows in hot weather,
And butt at each other, all eating and drinking,
The viands and wine disappearing like winking.
And then such a lot
As together had got !
Master Cabbage, the steward, who 'd made a machine
To calculate with, and count noses,-4 weer
The cleverest thing of the kind ever_ seen,—
Declared, when he 'd made,
By the said machine's aid,
Up, what 's now called, the " tottle" of those he survey'd,
There were just—how he prov'd it I cannot divine,—
Nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety, and nine,
Exclusive of Him,
Who, giant in limb,
And black as the crow they denominate Jim,
With a tail like a bull, and a head like a bear,
-Stands forth at the window,—and what holds he there,
Which he hugs sith such care,
And pokes out in the air,
And grasps as its limbs from each other he'd tear?
Oh! grief, and despair!
It's LP Scroope's poor, dear, sweet, little, curly-wig'd
llx it !
Whom the nurse had forgot, and left there in his chair,
Alternately sucking his thumb and his pear!
What words can express
The dismay and distress
0? Sir Guy, when he found what a terrible mess
His rursing and banning had now got him into?
That wordA, which to use, are a shame and a sin too,
Had thus on their speaker recoiled, and his malison
Placed in the hands of the devil's own " pal" his son

FRASER'S MAGAZINE.

Therekare some beautiful thoughts respecting the
influence that mothers have on their children, their
sons especially, as regards their after-destinies in life,
thrown out in an article entitled, " A May Noon in a
Parlour Window." The author instances several
eminent individuals, the course of whose ambition has
been shaped by their mothers; but he makes no men-
tion of the most eminent of them all, who has left it
on record, that it was to the principles instilled into
him, when a boy, by Madame Mere, that he owed his
fixed resolution to win an undying reputation. Never
did her exhortation to the reserved, thoughtful Cor-
sican lad,—" Be distinguished, my child !" pass from
his mind. To his father he owed little, and remem-
bered little about him ; but he never forgot, when at
s2hool at Brienne, or, subsequently, when the leader
of mighty armies, the apt and impressive maternal
comments on Plutarch's Lives. In like manner, it was
his mother's precepts and example that first implanted
in Johnson's mind a love of reading and meditation, and
'aid the seeds of his subsequent literary celebrity.
" Hoaxing Histories" is a whimsical account of a
hoax passed off by a wag on a party of Blues, who
were anxious to become acquainted with the poet
Pope, and were led to believe that he was that illus-
trious individual. There is no great point or spirit
in the narrative, which is carried on by means of dia-
logue ; but, nevertheless, it is very passable reading.
Mated and Checkmated" is a pleasing story, whose
scene is laid in the East. A young Prince of Persia
falls in love with a beautiful girl, the .daughter of a
famous chess-player, wooes her in disguise, and not
till he has achieved his conquest, informs his fair bride
that her husband is of the Royal blood. This de-
nouement will remind the reader of " Lalla Rookh."
In the remarks on the " Camden Society's recent
Publication," the writer justly observes that " of all
the distinguished personages of Queen Elizabeth's
Court, the Earl of Leicester has, perhaps, most exer-
cised the speculations of posterity.' Little, indeed, is
known of this once famous individual, and that little is
not much to his credit, whether as a man, a statesman,
or a soldier. One thing is certain—namely, that
he was most unscrupulous as to the means by which
he acquired and maintained power, and did not hesi-
tate to remove obnoxious personages by poison.
" Flowers and Weeds from Olympus and Parnassus"
is a string of critical notices of some recent poems;
and among them is a review of Mr. Robert Mont-
gomery's " Luther," which is handled with very
little ceremony. The " Poniatoswki Gems" is an
elegant poem from the versatile pen of Dr. Maginn.
" My Life and Times, by Nimrod," furnishes us with
a picturesque sketch of an old-fashioned Welsh squire,
Mr. Corbett, who appears to have been a perfect
specimen of a true gentleman in mind and feeling, if
not in superficial polish of manner. " Fitz-Boodle's
Confessions" are amusing gossip, detailing with infi-
nite unction the misfortunes of a young man who
blighted all his prospects, matrimonial, military, and
otherwise, by an inordinate love of smoking. Here is
his account of his first military disaster :
In the army my luck was much the same. I joined
the —th Lancers, Lieut.-Col. Martingale, in the year
1817. I only did duty with the regiment for three
months. We wore quartered at Cork, where I found
the Irish doodheen and tobacco the pleasantest smoking
possible ; and was found by his Lordship one day upon
stable dut.T, smoking the shortest, dearest, little, dumpy
clay- nipe in the world.
" Cornet Fitz-Boodle," said my Lord, in a towering
passion, " from what blackguard did you get that pipe?"
I omit the oaths which garnished invariably his Lord-
ship's conversation.

" I got it, my Lord," said I " from one Terrence Mul-
lins, a jingle-driver, with a packet of his peculiar to-
bacco. You sometimes smoke Turkish, I believe ; do
try this. Isn't it good?" And in the simplest manner
in the world I puffed a volume into his face. " I see
von like it," said I so coolly, that the men, and I do be-
lieve the horses, burst out laughing,
He started back—choking almost, and recovered him-
self only. to vent !such a storm of oaths and curses, that I
was compelled to request Capt. Rawdon (the Captain on
duty) to take note of his Lordship's words, and unluck-

ly could not help adding a.. question which settled m

_3y '
bu'siness. " You were good enough," I said " to ask •
me, my Lord, from what blackguard I got my pipe ;
might I ask from what blackguard you learned your
language?"
This was quite enough. Had I said " from what
gentleman did your Lordship learn your language ?" the
point would have been quite as good, and my Lord Mar-
tingale would have suffered in my place ; as it was, I
was so strongly recommended to sell out by his Royal
Highness the Commander-in-Chief, that, being of a good-
natured disposition, never knowing how to refuse a
friend, I at once threw up my hopes of military distinc-
tion, and retired into civil life.
My Lord was kind enough to meet me afterwards, in
a field in the G/aumire Road, where he put a ball into
my leg. This I returned to him some years later with
about twenty-three others—black ones—when he came
to be balloted for at a club of which I have the honour
to be a member,

Thus by the indulgence of a simple and harmless pro-
pensity—of a propensity which can inflict an injury upon
no person or thing except the coat and the person of him
who indulges in it—of a custom honoured and observed
in almost all the nations of the world—of a custom which,
tar from leading a man into any wickedness or dissipa-
tion to which youth is subject, but, on the contrary, be-
gets only benevolent silence and thoughtful good-hu-
moured observation, I found at the age of twenty all my
prospects in life destroyed. I cared not for woman in
those days ; the calm smoker has a sweet companion in
his pipe : I did not drink immoderately of wine ; for
though a friend to trifling potations, to excessively strong
drinks tobacco is abhorrent ; I never thought of gamb-
ling, for the lover of the pipe has no need of such excite-
ment ; but I was considered a monster of dissipation in
my family, and bade fair to come to ruin.

AINS WORTH'S MAGAZINE.
Mr. Ainsworth heads the present Number with his
tale of the " Miser's Daughter," wherein we find an
animated account of the proceedings of a Jacobin
Club, who are surprised in the midst of their discus-
sions, by the abrupt entrance of a party of Grenadiers
sent out to arrest them. The escape of the would-be
conspirators over the roofs of the adjoining houses, is
very spiritedly described ; and the conspirators them-
selves are well pourtrayed, with the single exception
of a formal, pedantic old Baronet, Sir Norfolk Sains-
bury, whose conversation, abounding to excess in hard,
learned phrases, is most ridiculously caricatured.
" Beauty and Time," is a fanciful little allegory from
the pen of Miss Pardoe, whose powers of versification
are .by no means of an ordinary character. The
"Russian Prince," is a passable story, whose scene is
laid in Oxford. " Legends of the Monts-Dores," are
by Miss Costello. They are told with much earnest-
ness and simplicity, and the descriptive touches inter-
spersed through them, greatly assist their effect.
" The Murder Prevented," is a rhymed narrative, the
lines'of which halt a little in places. The serious por-
tions are by far the best, for the humour ap-
pears forced, and pumped up as if with pro-
digious effort. An " Exhibition Gossip,"is a
series of brief, off-hand critical notices of some of the
more remarkable paintings in the present exhibition.
Most of the remarks ate shrewd and pertinent, but

Ere the horn, at the gate of the Barbican tower,
Was blown with a loud twenty-trumpeter power,
And in rush'd a troop •
Of strange guests !—such a group
Ai had ne'er before darkened the doors of the Scroope !
This looks like De Saye—yet—it is not De Saye—
And this is—no, 'tis not—Sir Reginald Braye—
This has somewhat the favour of Marrnaduke Grey—
But stay !—Where on.earth did be get those long nails?
Why, they're claws !--theri, Good Gracious !—they've
all of them tails !
That can't be De Vaux—why, his nose is a bill,
Or, I would any, a beak I—and he can't keep it still
Is that Poyniugs ?—Oh Gemini !—look at his feet ! !
Why, they're absolute hoofs!—is it gout or his corns
That have crumpled them up so ?—by Jingo, he's- horns !
Run ! run I—There 's Fitz-Walter, Fitz-Hugh, and
Fitz-John,
And the Mandevilles, pere et filz, (father and son,)
And Fitz-Osbert, and Uffurd—they 'ye all got them en!
Then their great saucer -eyes—
It 's the Father of lies
And his Imps—run ! run ! run I—they 're all fiends in
disguise,
Who've partly assumed, with more sombre Complexions,
The forms of Sir Guy Le Scroope's friends and con-
nexions,
And He—at the top there—that grim-looking elf—
Run ! run I—that,' s the " muckle-horned Clootie"
himself !