Star.
London, England, 1826-10-07 00:00:00

CLERICAL INTELLIGENCE.

CAMBRIDGE, Oceosea 6.
Messrs. Thomas Remington, BA. James Amiraux Jeremie,
A. and James Challis, B. A. Scholars of Trinity College, were
on Sunday last elected Fellows of that Society.
• The following Gentlemen were ordained by the Bishop of Lin-
coln, at Buckden, on Sunday, the 24th of September :
DEACONS—David FulfOrd Ilarridge, B.A. Queen's College,.
Cambridge; Henry Margett's, M.A. St. John's College, Cam-
bridge • George Pocock, S.C.L.Trinity Hall, Cambridge; Wool-
ley Spencer, B.A. Christ College, Cambridge; Richard Whitelock,
B.A. Lincoln College, Oxford ; Henry Reginald Yorke, B.A. St.
John's College, Cambridge ; George Harrison, B.A. Lincoln Col,
lege, Oxford ; William Gray, Literate • Henry John Branson,
B.A. Caius College, Cambridge—by Let. Dim. from the Arch-
bishop of York ; Edward Cox, B.A. Trinity Collegl, Cambridge
—by Let. Dim. from the Bishop of Exeter.
Paresis—George Atkinson, B.A. Queen's College, Cambridge;
James. Heaven, B.A. St. Edmund's Hall. Oxford; John Peacock
Hyde, B.A. Pembroke Hall, Cambridge; Edmund Miller, NIX
Fellow of St. Peter's College, Cambridge; John Fry, RA. Tri-
nity College, Cambridge; Thomas Harrison, B.A. St. John's C6l-
- Cambridge; Charles Wm. Hughe., B.A. Corpus atrial-
College, Cambridge; Augustus Davies lons, St. John's College,
Cambridge ; John Mandell, B. A. Catharine Hall, Cambridge ;
George Morley, Catharine Hall, Cambridge; William Peart, B.A.
St. John's College, Cambridge; Joseph Place, B.A. St. John's
College, Cambridge ; Thomas Sanderson, B.A. Magdalen Hall,
Oxford ; Thomas Trocke, M.A. Pembroke Hall, Cambridge ;
James Taylor Waring, B.A. Herter College, Oxford.
At an Ordination held in the Chapel of the Palace at Sarum on
Sunday, the 24th ult. the Bishop of Salisbury admitted the follow-
ing Gentlemen to the Holy Order of—
Deacons—W. Powley, 13. A. of Jesus College, Cambridge; H.
Browne, B.A. of Queen's College, Oxford; T. Husband, B.A. of
Magdalen College, Cambridge; H. W. Cottle, B.A. of Sydney
Sum: College, Cambridge; A. L. Lambert, B.A. of Trinity Coll.
Oxford; W. Start, B.A. of Trinity College, Cambridge; T. G. P.
Attwood, B.A. of Pembroke College, Oxford; E. Beauchamp St.
John, B.A. of St. Alban Hall, Oxford; D. J. Eyre, B.A. of Oriel
College, Oxford; C Clifton, B.A. of Worcester College, Oxford;
W. Barrett, B.A. of 'Magdalen College, Oxford ; W. Sykes, B.A.
of Sydney Sussex College, Cambridge; C. M. Long, B.A. of Tri-
nity College, Cambridge (at the request of the Bishop of Chichester).
Passarr--G. J. Huddkstnn, B.A. of Merton College, Oxford;
J. H. Worgan, M.A. of Pembroke College, Oxford; J. A. G.
Culpoys, hl. A. Exeter College, Oxford ; W.
Seaton,
Queen's Col-
lege, Cambridge • P. W. Buckham, B.A. St. John's College, Cam-
bridge; J. Ward, B.A. Christ's College, Cambridge.

Rev. Robert Ridsdale, M.A. one of the Senior Fellows of Clare
Hall, Cambridge, has been instituted, by the Bishop of Chichester,
to the Vicarage of Eirdfoid, near Fetworth, Sussex, en the present-
ation of the Right Hon. the Earl of Egremont.
Hey. C. W. Hughes, [LA. of Corpus Christi College, Cam-
bridge. has been licensed by the Bishop of Lincoln, to the Perpe-
tual Curacy of the Chapel of St John the Evangelist, at Lacy
Green, Bucks.
Rev. J. R. Major, of Thetford, B.A. of Trinity College, Cam-
bridge, was on Wednesday, the 27th ult. elected by the Town
Bailiff and Capital Burgesses of Wisbech, to the Head Mastership
of the Free Grammar School of that Town.

Rev. W. A. Alderson, of Everingham, to the Living of Seaton
Ross, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, vacant by the resignation
of the Rev. Mr. Brown.

Rev. J. Baylie, to the Chapelry of Blozwieb, near Walsall.
Rev. Richard Jaws, to the Perpetual Curacy of Little Leigh
Cheshire.
Rev. G. Stage, M.A. has Wei instituted, by the Den or Salis-
bury, to the Vicarage of Loogburtos, with the Chapel of Ho;nest,
in his peculiar deeanel jeariadictles, vacant by the death of the Rev.
Robert Corseus.

The Bishop of Salisbury has instituted the Rev. C. G. Cotes to
the Rectory of Stanton St. Quinton, Wilts, on the presentation of
the Earl of Radnor.
Rev. Edward. Wilson, B.A. Fellow of St. John's College, Cam-
bridge, was on Saturday appointed to the Curacy of &. Michael's,
Bath, on the nomination of the Rev. Rector of that city.
Rev. Courtenay Boyle Bruce, of Sc. Peter's College, Cambridge,
was on Wednesday appointed Domestic Chaplain to his Royal
Highness the Duke of York.
Monday, the Rev. John Ward, Domestic Chaplain to the Mar-
quis of Aylesbury, was instituted to the living of Great Bedwin,
on the presentation of his Lordship.
The Archbishop of York has been pleased to license the Rev.
W. Alderson, Rector of Everingham, to the Perpetual Curacy of
Seaton Ross, on the resignation of the Rev. Thomas Brown.
Rev. J. Hall, M.A. Vicar of Great Bedwin, Wilts, has been
presented to the Rectory of Tanheld, in Yorkshire.
The Earl of Erroll has appointed the Rev. S. B. Pratt, Epis-
copal Minister of St. James s, in the parish of Cruden, one of his
Lordship's Domestic Chaplains.
Thunday, the United Associate Congregation of Partick, tse

Glasgow, gave an unanimous call to Mr. John Skinner, Preacher
of the Gospel, to be their Pastor. ti
On the 7th ult. the Rev. Thomas Cannan was placed in the
parish of Carsephairn, vacant by the death of the Rev. James Cony,
late :Minister there. Neat day, the Rev. James Maitland was ad-
mitted to the parochial charge of Kells, vacant by the decease of
the Rev. William Gillespie, late Minister of that parish. And on
the ei sr, the Rev. William Dow was ordained Minister of Tongland
parish, vacant by the translation of the Rev. Thomas Brown to the
parish of St. John's, in Glasgow.
On the 14th uk. the Rev. Jacob Richardson was admitted to the
pastoral charge of the parish al I.args, in the county of Ayr.

CHELTENHAM'.
• —....--
Conieto Cheltenham all you young maidens, with
hearts light and purses heavy—for here are Gentlemen
single and singular in abundance. H toe to Cheltenham
all you unhappy bachelors, with 'bald heads and spare
pockets—for here are widows and lasses, East Indians,
West Indians, Jewesses, womanhood and girlhood of
every shape and colour, with wealth or with the name
of it. Who wants a husband? Who wants a wife?
Look at that Major of fifty, with a sea (the 'red sea) of
face and pine groves of whiskers, reposing in the pump-
room. Think, you' my willing fair, that he is over par-
' ticular, or will quarrel for the difference between the
ten and the fifteen thousand ? Look at that young Lady of
thirty—tall, thin, and sallow, spelling every eye in the
promenade. Think you she is not heartily tired of
taking care of her dirty acres ? You Gentlemen of Scot-
land, subtle and booing, bead your backs this way, if
you please, and luck may give you a full lading as
you gang away—and oh ! you Gentlemen of Ireland—
no, no, we are full of you already, Munster men and
Connaught men, and little great men from the Omar'
and young Reverends and barristers, and dandi-dis-
tillers and drapers ; but come all those who can, for
now is the time—great bargains on hand, wholesale and
retail—this is the day, to-mot row Mr. Jines's bammes

knocks us down, and we are gone.
Cheltenham is full, very full at this moment, of fun,
folly, and family parties. What do the mothers mean
by bringing all their daughters this way ? Can five
sickly shiers be got off together? There is no prepon-
derance of rank to put the majority nut of countenance.
None of your aristocratic Peers bottling it over the
community. None' of your antique Bari tarts, with
keep-your-distance looks, like surly mas• id's. We are
all quite on an equality—Mr. and Ws. Thompson,
Mrs. Frinson and the four Misses Frinson, 'Major Har-
vey, Captain Henry, Ensign and Adjutant O'DJherty,
and such like safe-to-be quoted names.
You art ive at Cheltenham in the evening in your own
cat riage, or by coach, and, for the honour of the thing,
set yourself down at the Plough—smiling and well-
ringletted bar-maid—smirking waiter, never soiled his
sires in his life—tidy chambermaid, with a silk dress,
and a place worth 5001. a year, pays 2001. for it, and
does up the small things—silver service, down beds,
rooms ten feet by ten. Rise late. Call for the bill.—
Faint with fright at the sum total. Pay it, and try to
keep your temper. Walk into the air, cool your mind,
and look for a house or lodgings. Take the former,
from five guineas to fifteen a week, according to your
establishment ;or the latter, from two five. There you
are—now look about you. But stop, you can't afford
a house, and hate lodgings. Well, then go to a boarding
house. Try Fisher's, dine with sixty, play whist or
ecarte, or read novel, in the evening. Try the Welling-
ton Mansion—all select, stiff, and silent. Or if you be
a dry old bachelor, fond of good living, and hates to be
annoyed, with ladies, button up at the Imperial. No
dogs' allowed in the dining room, nor women either.—
Three guineas a week will suit your expenditure.
The first thing to be done, is et eight o'clock in the
morning, to make yourself look at smooth as you can,
and saunter down to -Thomson's well. -There you meet
all the, world lounging in the pump room, or walking
between rows of fragrant shrubs ; the band playing, the
sun shining, and every body happy.. Before you jOili
party, address yourself to the portly Quaker who stands
so demure within that mahogany bar, and ask for No.
4.. Without Tufting the starch of .her kerchief or the
repose of her double chin, sister Deborah will reach you
a glass of water. It is warm and grateful to the palate ;
in time you will learn all its virtues. Look over your
left shoulder, there is the recording angel, with book
before him and pen in hand, ready to set down your
name, and take your half guinea subscription for a fort-
night. And how comes it, friend Thomson, that thou
art a caterer for the: ungodly, and dealest in balls and
dancing, and piping, and fiddle-scraping, and such like
abominations? Having taken your glass of water, move about and
survey the company. Don't you think the Ladies are re-.
markably well dressed, considering they have only left home in a
hasty deshabille ? To be sure there are great symptoms of haste is
those bunches of rich cads which so become that pretty sylph of
sixteen, still more so in the layer of rouge spread thick on her mam-
ma's cheek. A vast hurry in the set-uff of that lace—the sly cap
under the slyer bonnet—the negligent fall of that waif, or its the
delicate dress of that anck. Symptoms of indifference to conquest
and thoughtlessness of one's self in every look and attitude.
Thomson 's Well engrosses all the fashion. How he
contrives to retain it traffics calculation. At the old well
there are finer walks—at the Sherborne better grounds
and better music. The waters are said to be equal
in all ; yet, while his rooms are crowded to an over flo",
and his book filled with wealth, the others are *ab-
out a visiter—the books wiaout subscribers—and the
Gentlemen of the band abandoned to teach the thrushes.
Let me give a word of advice to the Sherborne owners.
—Pay any price to Braham, Stephens, or Caradori, to
sing in the morning at your rooms for one season. A
month, Mr. Thomson cannot stand against Colonel
Berkeley tried to break the monopoly, and did not; and
the Duke of Wellington patronised the old well, but
failed in making it, as a bad punster said,theWell-in-ton.
This early promenade renders Cheltenham a healthy
and delightful place. Early to bed and early to rise, is
the old proverb. Here only is it realised by all parties.
Whether we shall become, as the proverb says, more
wealthy or more wise, is,out of consideration ; but this
I know, and all the men join me in saying, that women
never look more beautiful than in the young blush of
morning. The palest creature catches a glow from contact with the
fresh aiP. Need I say bow much more brilliant the truly lovely
appear. Besides, my pretty damsels, you take a man's heart quite
unawares, when he Is little dreaming of the sly pursuit.
In the ball room, man is on his guard; he is your equal—your
superior; but in the morning be is at your mercy. If I dare tell
how many I saw shot dead by the first glance of that sparkling
dark-eyed beauty—not tea minutes after 8 o'clock this morning—l
am certain not one of you would be a moment later for your season.
Fall in love, if you like it, but go home and eat your
breakfast. Read for an hour or two, or make yourself
look amiable afresh. Come to the library at noon.—
There again all the world are met. How bold a woman
looks marching through the outworks of a shop, and
taking her seat and a newspaper at the same table with
a dozen men. How graceless in an old woman, but how
cruelly unbecoming in a young Lady I Still everybody
does it here. Though blushing is not my forte, I co-
loured yesterday to the eyes at seeing a young and in-
nocent girl of eighteen take up the Morning Paper,
which I had jest laid down, containing a police case unfit
for modest ears. The next thing to be done is to step
into the auction room ; this is the regular lounge or kill-
time, unless you are a whist player, and have the vice
of cards upon you in the morning. There is a club
where honorary members are admitted. That will suit
your purpose. At one time you might have found more
than one knave of that suit in the pack, but now we
have corrected all that.
'oat have disposed of the time until three o'clock—
:tow for the High-street. The family who have an

open carets* are slowly moving from end to end, tin
loung people, every now and then, popping amen to
shew their feet and give trouble to the sboponen •
the single men, who have tilburies or cabriolets, cats
rattling along the stones, merely to display their driving.
Those who have horses pace them up and down ; and
those who are without horse or carriage, are walking
listlessly along the flagging, or lounging on green seats
ranged in front of the leading shops. This is the grand
market for matrimony and mischief. Many a fair for-
tune here has fallen into the man-trap of a fake masts.
chio. Many a fickle wife has here first learned to forget
her husband. Gaze away and gape away, for nothing
more worth looking at is to be teen at Cheltenham If
your friend chews not in the High-street between three
and six, he is dead or departed for London. By this
hour, my simple visiter, you begin to find that which I
could have told thee at first, that Cheltenham is in
reality a very stupid place. How the deuce it got its
good name no one can tell. If people do as I now do,
and as you will shortly, it will get a bad one, as it well
h:serves. At six o'clock the dinner-bell rings. I will
leave you in quiet till your fruit and wine and coffee be
dispatched. It is not for want of good matter for ob.
;ervation that I do so. &range things have occurred at
the Cheltenham dinner tables; but as I am a friend to
rest and good digestion, I will not distract the health or
repose of those who, unfortunately for themselves, are
unv.ise at these hours. You have three modes of passing
the evening offered to you. There is the play, with
Colonel Berkeley enacting Shakspeare fiery like a Gen-
demon, but most unlike an actor; and his brother
playing second to him with more of first-rate prem..
sions—or you have the concert and the undress ball at
Thomson's Rooms, where the Ladies are desired. to
appe it in, promenade costume, and the Gentlemen in
more appropriate dancing habiliments.
H +d you had the good fortune to have been here last
Monday, there was another way of spending the
evening. Not being in so much luck, you must wait
for another season. Then you shall rejoice in the va-
riety afforded by the Master of the Ceremonies' Ball.
To be sure, there are people enough at Cheltenham
willing to pay homage to the master of the maids, and
marriageable young women enough to save the credit of
him who rules their destinies for the night. Mr. Marshall
has excellent materials for his all-perplexing situation.
His bow is the right school, and he carries decision in
his look. None but a tyrant could wield his sceptre.
He does it well in " King Cambyses vein r On Mon-
day the season nominally ended, by Mr. Marshall's Ball.
Soon after nine the ceremonies opened by a country sets
but as this is a culinary dance, none of the supreme
would condescend to notice it. Quadrilles followed, in
which everybody joined. Five parties, containing
twelve persons each, inclosed in parterres, secured from
the contact of the idle by crimson silken ropes, were set
in motion together. The effect was enchanting—the
gay dresses of the youthful dancers, the blaze of lights,
the murmur of the music, delighted the eye and grati-
fied the ear. What a pity it is that one cannot be satis-
fied with those first pleasing impressions. As I went
through and examined every set, I soon found that
neither eye nor eat can be depended on. Not that all
was barren—for instance, in the first quadrille, three
bouncing country girls, bluff and ruddy as dairy maids,
were happily relieved by the timid motion and quiet
'graces of a gentle creature of seventeen 1 In another,
a Scotch lassie flung her feet about, indifferent of bee
partner's ankles, but vis-a-vis to her, was a beautiful
French maiden, who glided like a fairy form holding
sweet cadence with the music. In the next, a Somerset
shepherdess, all white but her elbows and ringlets, which
glowed in red, or colour thereunto approaching, did all
.to combine affectation and vulgarity ; but a stately
damsel, of high birth, who endeavoured to frown her
neighbour into quiet, qualified the character of their
quadrille. A pair of die-away sisters attracted much
attention. They looked-and moved as if existence gave
them too much trouble. The elder had a stout Hibernian soldier
for her partner—the awful flourish of his legs, and the jolly shake of
his wrist, seemed quite to disconcert her refinement. The younger
was better paired—exquisite was the youth she condescended to
smile upon; had she pressed his hand he must have fainted. There
were
a few Ladies of rank milted up with the dancers, and a few
stately swains of quality overlooking their daughters from benches
elevated above the quadrilles. How I pitied all their pride—of
birth, of education, and of dress—when I noticed, and I saw the
approving eyes of aU confirm my judgment, that the palm of beauty
and of graceful carriage was due to the daughter of a country inn-
keeper. In apartments above the hall-room, card tables were set
out, and wise heads pondered over the game of whist, while stand..
artily, betters on the point, trembled at the touch of the wrung card
about being drawn by the unskilful. The melancholy face of a
large backer of a difficult game was irresistibly ludicrous, when he
saw the revoke coming from a hand in which every trick was pre-
viously secured. A group of Laudon Ladies, threescore and up-
wards, were collected at a 100 table. Their violence attracted every-
body's notice.—Who takes, Miss?—Not I, indeed, Ma'am.—l have
not one pool for the night.-oh, Ma'am, you always win.—Do you
play ?=1 play my own hand.—Four player..—You are looet
Not I, indeed.—Palm and two aces.—l leo the table—you are all
cooed. " Loan save us !" said I, descending to the ball-room, " sob. t
will the old Lady say next ?" Soon after twelve, the rooms begau
to thin ; and at one, the last fiddler had departed.
I have now conducted you, my kind reader, from your Instill%
at the Plough to your finish at the Ball, through all that Cliches-
hani can afford. II you are disappointed, it is not my fault—many
is the gay spirit that has been so before you. Blame the scenery
writers—the puffers, and the paragraph makers. This I can say in
truth, and your experience will confirm it, that In all proper cases
the Cheltenham waters will not disappoint the patient.

The Earl of ENNISKILLEN is at present confined to
his room at Florence Court, by lumbago.
Mr. GERARD O'CALLAGHAN, a Gentleman who has
lately 44 renounced the errors of the Church of Rome,"
has come forward as a candidate for the representation
of Cork, declaring his determination to support the Con-
stitution of the realm in Church and State.

The Ladies of Bradford have established a Society
for providing clothing for the destitute poor durinixtelthte
winter, and a committee and proper officers have
appointed for carrying this humane object. into effect.
It appears that upwards of 900 families are in extreme
wait of clothing.
An interesting meeting took place on the 30th ult.at
Grebeck, the birth-place of the late James Watt, upon
the occasion of appropriating the sum subscribed for a
monument to his memory. At this meeting, Mr. James
Watt, of Soho, the son of the distinguished individual
in question, and Sir Humphrey Davy, were present,
and were complimented in very handsome terms by the
Chairman, Sr J. Shaw Stewart: they severally ad.
dressed the assembled subscribers; and on its being re-
solved that the fund (1,70314 should be upended on a
statue of the deceased by Chantry, Mr. Watt made a
present of 2,0001. to build a library for its reception.
Monday, a gardener, of Wisbech, for a wager, walked
ten miles, with a bushel of potatoes on his back, which
he undertook to carry the whole distance without rest-
ing. He accomplished it in two hours forty minutes.
A barber, who is in the habit of stunning his ctn.
touters' ears by the rapidity of his teem, asked au individual, the
other day. how he wished his boat to he cut? Without saying
a sinsie word," repot be.

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