The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-11-27 00:00:00

LITERARY NOTICE.

Tau and Sketches, Historical and Domestic. By
Mrs. D. Clarke (late E. A. Ingram). London:
Longman and Co. Liverpool : Grapel, and G. &
J. Robinson. 1838.

These pleasing tales, which have nearly all ap-
peared already in various publications, in detached
portions, form one of the most delightful volumes of
the season. The least charm of the series is its variety,
which is very great, as a hare enumeration of the titles
of the tales and sketches will suffice to prove, The
table of contents presents us with the following goodly
array :—Mary Grey—Ccpur de Lion's Return—The
Tournament—Larry Brannigan, or the Fairy's Fid-
dler—The Miseries of Independence—Helen Calder—
Mary of Lorn—The Days of Wallace—Three Chap-
ters for Young Ladies—The Banished—The Lady of
the Village—James of Scotland in Captivity—Tradi-
tion of Ludlow Casty'—A Tale of the Early American
Settlements—Kitty Doyle—The Pilgrimage of Nor-
markdy—The Unwedned—May Wilson—Sibel Elkin
—Lochlevin's Flower—Henrietta of France—Grace
Brown—What is Life—and A Sketch of the Day.—
The multifarious v fetes of human life embraced in this
series of descriptions of wondrous things " in field,
flood, and forest," as well as in the circle of domestic
society, are at once amusing and in<ruetive. We
may add that the sentiments breathed throughout the
volume are as much characterised by their moral pu-
rity, as the language in which they are expressed is
by its ease and unaffected simplicity. This work,
which is from the pen of a respected townswoman,
will be perused wilh much interest by our young
friends in Liverpool.

A WALKING STEEPLE.—At llolywell, a man goes about
fhe streets, with measured steps, tolling a ;40001-,ized hand-
bell, to announce the approach of the church service,
the church being situated so deep in a hollow, that the bell
cannot he heard :n the town, The man receives for his ser-
Tie. 4 £7. a-year, and a suit of clothes.
We have great satisfacti(in in stating, that the Lords of the
Admiralty haver not only mo,t consented to the
wishes of Rear-Admiral Warren, the esteemed superintend-
ent of the dock-yard, that a collection should be made in the
chapel for the benefit of the widows and orphans of the un-
fortunate men who perished in the Sound last week, but have
generously franked the permission with a donation of 1:100.
—Davenport Telegraph.
:NORTH AMSKICAN BOUNDARIE9,—W-e have heard to-day,
in qutrters where information on such matters especially
may be fully relied upon. that the question of boundary be-
tween the possessions of Great Britain in North Americaand
the United States is nn the eve of being formally adjusted,
and in a manner, it is said, which will give satisfaction to
the public on both sides, and be in accordance with the views
of the two governments. it is, in fact, stated that communi-
cations for some time past have been going on between Mr.
Stevenson, the American minister, and our government upon
this point, and that it has been determined to appoints com-
mission to decide upon the question; the governments at the
same time recommending mutually for their adoption, that
the river St. John should form the separating line between

tie two countries, whereby that portion of the province of
Maine which the English have always claimed will he ceded
to us, and as an equivalent the coast and territory lying be.
tween the rivers Ste Croix and St. John, equal in size to what
is given up on the other size, will be made over to America.
By tills means Maine will possess almost an entire water-
bonndeity, and the country between Nova Scotia and Canada
will he laid open to us, a point in itself of the very utmost
importance, more especially at the present moment ; and
there can be little doubt that the railway which has often
been proposed from Halifax to Quebec, but as often put off
in consequence of the state of the boundary question, willsoon
he carried into effect, by which means it is needless to say a
most important and favourable change will be effected in our
Canadian trade. That the question of boundary between
our possessions and the United States should at length be
adjusted is of itself of the greatest consequence; not that
any serious disagreement between England and America
was ever contemplated from the unsettled state of the ques-
tion, yet it kept up an unpleasant feeling on the borders and
often led to local disturbances, and the adjuitment will re-
move all fear from the minds of alarmiAs and ill-informed
persons as to there being any chance of a collision between
the two countries. We understand that the executive at
Washington appreves-of the arrangement; and, indeed, that
it was Mr. Forsyth who proposed to Mr. Fox, the propriety
of appointiaig a commission, but that the latter referred the
:natter to the goverugtent at home.—Morning Chronicle.

THE MURDERER.

(Abridged from the Leinster Express.)

About the latter end of the last century there lived in a
certain districtof an adjoining county, a young farmer named
William Magratb; he was an only child, and his parents,
who were both dead, left him in independent and comfort-
able circumstances. His family, at the time our tale opens,
consisted of his wife, a young and beautiful girl, to whom he
had been married but a few months; his grandmother (his
father's mother), who was now of a great age; and an or-
phan idiot, whom his rarents had reared from a child, and
whom they committed to the care of William on their death-
bed. His family, thus, was small, and his farm was large
and productive, and he lived in comfort and affluence, and
promised himself much happiness in the society of his hand-
some and affectionate wife, to whom he had been ardently
attached for ninny years previous to their marriage.
'Twas about the middle of December, in those gloomy
days for which this mouth is proverbial ; the short Winter's
noon bas drawn to a close, and the evening was setting in
drearily and darkly. William Magrath, and Margaret his
wife, after concluding the business of the day, sat down be-
fore the huge fire which gleamed hotly and brightly on the
wide and well-swept hearth, and whiled away the moments
in talking overmany of the scenes of those happy days when
they both " lov'd and were beloy'd." Redmond the idiot,
or as be was more commonly called Reddy, was stretched
listlessly on a large bench or form in the chimney corner,
and opposite to him in the other corner was seated the old
" granny" on her straw boss whiffing her dhudeen with all
the gusto of an Eastern epicurean.
" Granny," said William, " have you done smoking ?"
" Why so, a hayur?" demanded the " granny." "Till you
tell us a story to pass away the time," said William.
" Musha bud faix ids meself that will tell you the vrondher-
ful story sure enough, and one I think yez never heard
afore," said the old woman, and drawing the blackened and
cutty pipe from between her old yellow teeth, and spitting
into it to extinguish the fire, she asked,
" Did you ever hear the story ov the White Horse of Kil-
hauls ?"
" No," said William.

" Well then yez wont be long so," and after hemming and
hawing some time, and emitting a deep sigh, she was about
to commence her story, when their attention was arrested by
the trampling sound of a horse's footsteps approaching the
house.

" By gad," said William, laughing," " I believe, granny,
von need not tell uz about the White Horse of Kilbawn, for
1 think he is coming to show himself to us."
" God forbid," said the old Sybil, " that would be the bad
luck day for you and yours iv he did."
A human voice was now heard outside the door demanding
entrance.

William instantly arose and opened the door, and by the
ruddy blaze which the Ted turf fire emitted, perceived a tall
and dark-leoking man mounted on a large and powerful look-
ing horse.
" Good night, friend," said William, courteously.
" Good night, sir," replied the stranger; " but as for me,
I have had rather a bad night of it."
" What's the matter with you, sir?" inquired William.
" I and my comrade," returned the stranger, " were pro-
ceeding to the next town; but stopping on the way, we hap-
pened to be benighted, and we fear have gone out of our road
completely. I have left my companion below at yon grove,
whilst I came up here to enquire the way to our destination."
" I fear it's too late for you to go there to-night," said
William. " I can afford you accommodation for yourselves
and your horses to-night: it is rather homely to be sure; but,
such as it is, you are welcome to it if you accept of it."
Your offer is very kind, sir," replied the horseman;
" but, it is necessary we should proceed; so I would thank
you if you would come out and guide us to the next cross
roads."

William good-naturedly took his hat and departed.
" I wonder, in the name of goodness," said Margaret,
" who must he be?"

" The neara bit ov me can guess," said the old woman ;
" but whoever he is, he is not good, or he wouldn't be out in
a strange country so late. There's darkness and treachery
i❑ his very tone, and I wish to God poor William was home
safe again."
Margaret trembled at the mysterious manner of the old
woman, and fervently responded "amen" to her ejaculation.
They continued a few moments silent, Reddy, the onzed-
hattn, still snoring soundly.
At length Margaret broke silence, and said, " Granny,
you are good at interpreting dreams. I had a very queer one
last night, which frightened me very much, and 1 am not the
same yet."
" Let us hear id," said the old woman.
" I was dreaming that I was filling water at Tubbermore,
and that 9. most beautiful white bird flew over me, and began
to sing sweetly. I thought it flew round and round, and
seemed as if it wished to fly into my bosom: at last I saw
the waters of the well dashing and swelling violently with a
terrible noise, and then a hideous-looking animal raised it-
self out of the water, and, opening its throat, fixed its fiery
eyes on the beautiful bird. I thought the bird immediately
flew into the monster's throat, and was swallowed up. I
thought then that the monster looked savagely at me, and
raising himself on his feet, vomited up a large quantity of
blood into my face, and besmeared all my clothes. I gave a
loud screech, and all vanished."
The old woman crossed her brow devoutly, and said, " God
brake misforthune afore uz : I am afraid of that dream."

Silence was again resumed, but was soon broken by the
old woman exclaiming,
" Lord have mercy on the sowis of the faithful departed."
"Amen," answered Margaret, sadly.
" A terrible death-bell in my right ear: some male person
belonging to the family will soon go," prognosticated the old
hag.

At this momet Reddy, the fool, who was still asleep on the
bench, started up with a wild shout, and vociferated,
" Where's William ? Who kilt him ? What happened him."
"Christ have mercy on us all," said the old woman in a
trembling tone; " Reddy what's coming over ye at all, at all ?"
The idiot jumped about the floor, his eyes straining in their
sockets, his long hair flowing loosely around his pallid face,
and waving his brawny arm over his head he sang in frantic
tones—

' William's dead and that's all,
William's kilt and that's all.
I see his blood
In crimson flood
Flow through my dream, and that's all.'

The women wore ready to expire with terror; they both
ra iiiod a hind and mournful cry, and tho uproar brought in a
couple of neigbbcuring young men who were passing.
" Lord save us what ails ye at all at all," they inquired.
The women could make no reply, but Redmond again
fiercely chaunted in his mysterious and wild strain—

' blood is on the ground,
William's blood is running round.
Beneath the red moon's rising beam,
• William bleaches in the stream ;
I saw it all in my dark dream.'
" What does he mean ? What does he say ?" asked the
young men again.
At length the old woman communicated her suspicions to
them, and they set forward to look for William.
The
and
Winter's just rising behind the hills at the
moment,aarsed and ghastly glare on all around.
shedding
They proceeded on to the grove but saw nothing; they lis-
tened, but could hear no sound but the rush of the night
breeze, as it swept with sad and fitful wail through the tall
and gloomy pines which composed the little grove. At length
they fancied they heard the sound of horses' footsteps at a
distance, but whether advancing or receding they could not
tell.
They listened again in silence, but the clatter was soon en-
tirely lost amid the general stillness of the night.
They were about to return, when they were joined by Red-
mond the idiot, who ran up to them and exclaimed—
" Are yez afraid of a dead man ? well, I'm not, and I'll not
leave poor William any longer bleaching in the cold stream ;"
and running towards a little dark river, which wound its tor-
tuous course around one angle of the grove, he beckoned at
the two young men to follow him.
On arriving at the brink of the stream, they were horrified
to perceive, by the light of the dusky moon, the form of
William Magrath extended lifeless among the daggers, sedge,
and other aquatic plants, with which the murky stream was
overgrown. l'he two young men stood petrified on the bank,
and the omedhaun seized the dead body by the arm, and
dragged it up at their feet on the grass.
They gazed on the face of the murdered man : it was all
over covered with clotted blood; and, on examining further,
they found his skull literally cloven in twain, with some
bludgeon or other rude weapon.
They now prepared to remove the remains of poor Wil-
liam to his house, from whence he so lately departed in per-
fect health and spirits.
It would be in vain to attempt a description of the scene
which presented itself as soon as the mournful procession ar•
rived at the house : as soon as the corpse was laid on the
floor, Redmond, the fool, uttered a loud and inhuman cry,
and again chaunted—
. William, poor William, lost his life,
Because he wed a party wife,
Young Barny Hanrahan, he done it,
His hand has William's blood upon it.
William, poor William, he lost his life,
Because he married a handsome wife."
The village was now alarmed; it was yet early in the night,
and a great many people thronged to the house. Many
rumours were afloat as to the cause and probable author of
William's untimely fate. The general opinion was that
Barney Hanrahan was the murderer. Barney was a rich
young farmer of the next parish; he had seen and admired
Margaret Shehan, and asked her to marry him: but William
had gained an ascendancy over the fond heart of the lovely
girl. Barney's proffer was rejected, and from that day he
burned with revenge against the unoffending William. He
vowed 'vengeance, and was every day meditating how he
could best effect his horrid purpose. This was not unknown
to the village folk, and this circumstance, together with the
idiot's prophetic rhymings, confirmed the general opinion as
to Hanrahan's guilt.
A messenger was despatched to the next magistrate; and
he proceeded with four mounted drogoons, which he had at
his house in consequence of the disturbed state of the times,
in pursuit of the murderer; some of Magrath's relatives ac-
comp toned them, and they arrived about midnight at the
;Iwetling of 1 lanrahan. He was sitting at the remains of an
expiring fire, in melancholy and uneasy mood. He heard
the approach of the pursuing party, and starting up got
through a big window, before they came up to the house.
Some of them, however, perceived the fugitive murderer,
and a brisk chase immediately commenced. Hanrahan was
a powerful strong inau, and ran swiftly towards a heath-clad
hid at some distance. The soldiers set spurs to their chargers,
and were quickly overtaking the run-away. On perceiving
thin, he wheeled about towards a high wall of dry limestone,
which separated his farm from that of his next neighbour.
He sprang. on the top of it like a deer, but as be was in the
actamaking the bound, the foremost of the dragoons made
a stroke with his sword at his head, and severed the left ear
from the skull. Hanrahan, however, succeeded in getting
clear of the wall, and continued his way to the mountain.
The soldiers' progress was effectually impeded by the magni-
tude of the barrier which lay before them; they dismounted
and set forward on foot, but in vain; the assassin gained
ground on them, and was quickly lost to them among the
.brushwood and heather of the hill. He bent his way to the
cabin of a friend of his, and got his bleeding wound dressed
and bound up. He then departed on his journey of flight,
and was no more heard of. _

We shall now return to the scene of death—the dwelling
of the murdered William Magratb. He was now "laid out,"
as they term it, and the house was thronged with his friends
and neighbours who bad assembled at the "wake." Under
the canopy which was raised over the corpse, were seated in
rows the female relatives of the deceased, sometimes weeping
with every demonstration of unfeigned sorrow, now talking
and smoking their tobacco-pipes, and at intervals singing the
Canine or death-song, in the Irish language.
Poor Magrath, after being "waked" during the customary
time, and with the customary honors, was conveyed to the
long home of his ancestors in the village churchyard. His
remains were attended to the grave by all the peasantry for
miles around; and on arriving at the churchyard, there could
not be less than some thousands of people present. The as-
sembly dispersed, and William Magrath and his melancholy
catastrophe were soon forgotten, or only remembered amongst
his own family. Years rolled bye, and there was still no
tidings of the unfortunate Barney Hanrahan, and it wassup-
posed by many that he perished in some foreign clime.
'Twas on a fine sunny day in September, about twenty
years after the occurrence above related, that the gentleman
who headed the dragoons on their excursion in pursuit of
Hanrahan on the night of the murder, was travelling on a
hired jaunting-car through a distant and secluded district of
the County Mayo, in the "far West." The road was rough
and billy, and the car was obliged to move slowly and cau-
tiously along. The gentleman amused himself reading a
book as they went along, and after some time, from the 'neat
of the day and the jogging of the car, he got drowsy, and let
the book fall from his band. Looking up, he perceived a
man just near him breaking stones for the repair of the road.
He was seated under a kind of temporary shed, which he

had constructed to protect him from the influence of the
weather: The gentleman called him to reach him the book
off the road, and he came, and in the act of handing it to the
owner his old hat fell off, and a breeze of wind which passed
at the moment, scattered his long grey locks, and discovered
at once that he wanted the left ear. The gentleman was im-
mediately convinced that it was Hanrahan, and he asked
him "Where he was from?"
" From the county of ," replied the man.
"What is your name ?"
" Bernard Hanrahan."
"By h ! Barney Hanrahan, the murderer of Wil-
liam Magrath?"
" Exactly so."
" Do you know me ?"
"I think I do."
"Who am I ?" ►
"Are yon not Mr. G—, from —.'2 •
"1 am the man."
"And Mr. G—, honey, how is every bit of you and
yours?" said Hanrahan,* bursting into a passionate fit of
weeping.
The gentleman did not answer; he put his hand into his
coat, and drawing forth a loaded pistol, he exclaimed, "Han-
rahan, as a Magistrate, and particularly as a Magistrate hr
the county where you committed the crime—one of the foul-
est on record—the perpetration of which forfeits your life to
the laws of your country, I command you to submit yourself
a prisoner, and if you make any resistance, the contents of
this pistol puts at; end to your guilty life. lam sorry that
my duty compels me to act in this manner; but I would be
renouncing both faith, and honour, and justice, were I to
act otherwise."
" Never fear, sir," sobbed Hanrahan; " I would not wish
to injure you, even if I had the power; but 1 am quite will-
ing to submit to you, and 1 am sorry that I neglected so long
to deliver myself into the hands of justice."
" Very well, Ilanrahan," returned the Gentleman, "it
appears you are sorry for your misdeeds, and indeed you
have cause; but remember that any disclosures you make to
me will not nor cannot- criminate you ; I believe there is no
positive proof of your guilt. Suspicion is all that is for it;
therefore, although there can be no moral doubt as to your
being the murderer, there is, I believe, a legal one, and you
ate still entitled to the benefit of it."
"Thank you, Sir," replied Hanrahan; " but lam resolved
to acknowleclg my crime before the world. I wish to die for
it, and I am impatient for the arrival of the moment which
is to ease my mind of the dreadful weight with which it is
oppressed,"
The Magistrate now procured a piece of cord, and pinion-
ing the arms of his prisoner, placed him beside him on the
jaunting-car, and resumed his journey to the next town. He
nlvr had leisure to survey Hanrahan's person and appearance
minutely; and he shuddered at the wuful change he had un-
dergone since he last saw him. He was, at that period, a
fine athletic, blooming young fellow, of about 25 years of
age, with rosy cheeks, and dark auburn hair playing in natu-
ral ringlets over his high and smooth forehead. He was, be-
sides, the best hurler, ball-player, and wrestler in the parish,
and the smartest and gayest drest man of his rank at every
assembly. But now how wofully, bow sadly altered! His
form was stooped, as if from extreme old age; his face Was
furrowed with a thousand wrinkles, and his hair, which he
suffered to grow to conceal the loss of his ear, fell iu hoary
and matted locks about his woe-begone cheeks. His voice was
tremulous and faint, and his step slow, irregular, and nervous.
Such were the effects which want and wandering, and above
all, the eternal gnawing of a guilty conscience, had wrought
on this hapless man. Thus it ever is with the wretched
murderer—sleeping or waking he knows no rest. Remorse
makes him her constant piey.
" Remorse—she ne'er forsakes him ;
A blood-hound staunch, she tracks his weary way;
With her deep-mouthed hay, surmounting all
Of wrath and woe, and punishment that hides him."
" Hanrahan," said the Gentleman, " where have you been
ever since the fatal night that you murdered Magrath ?"
Hanrahan gave a loud sigh, and began—" Aftes commit-
ting the foul deed, I and my comrade (who was a cousin-
german of mine from the county of Kilkenny) made our
escape to Galway, were we embarked for America, and
landed there after a short favourable passage. Here we parted,
and I never saw him after ; but I heard that he fell a victim
to the yellow fever shortly after our separation. I fell into
employment, and thought I would soon forget the cause which
compelled me to quit my native home, to seek refuge in the
laud of the stranger; but it was impossible. One moment's
rest I never enjoyed since, except the momentary relief I
found from indulging to excess in intoxicating liquors.
When I happened to slumber a moment, the murdered Ma-
grath was ever in my dreams; and when awake, and even
in the light of noonday, I ever saw him bloody and mangled
before me with a threatening aspect. If I looked forward,
he was staring me in the face; if I looked back, he was dog-
ging my footsteps; if I looked to heaven, his bleeding phan-
tom seemed to obscure the light of the sun or moon; and
even when sailing on the broad ocean, I fancied its waves
were dyed with his blood. Thus my life was a hell to me;
and I several times thought to put a period to my sufferings
by suicide. At last 1 came to the resolution of returning
home, and surrendering myself to the law. With this reso-
lution I embarked about four years ago, and landed at Cork
in safety. I there thought to proceed immediately to my
native county, and give myself up to you, sir; but the dread
of the gallows overcame my resolutions. I bent my way
down to Connaught, and have remained here ever since.
Perhaps I might remain here some time longer, but I feel
that I would never be easy until I would die for my crime.
I am now happier in my mind than I have been these twenty
year; and, as 1 said before, Hong for the hour which is to
witness my departure from this miserable life."
Mr. G— was deeply affected at this sad recital. They
soon arrived at the neighbouring town, and stopped there
that night. In the morning the criminal was sent under a
strong escort to the next military station. Front that to the
next, and so on until he arrived at the assize town of his na-
tive county. Here he was lodged in " durance vile," and
remained so until the ensuing assizes, when he came on trial.
He pleaded guilty of the crime; and said that be had no
motive for committing the horrid deed, but jealousy and
hatred to Magrath for disappointing hini in his designs on
Margaret She hen. On the day appointed he was brought to
the scaffold; his conduct was that of a sincere periitent. He
forgave the world, implored pardon for his many crimes, and
exhorted the spectators to beware of late hours, intemper-
ance, and bad company. He died calmly, amid the sighs
and compassion of the thousands who assembled to witness
his exit from this fleeting and wicked world.
The foregoing story is literally true ; some of the circum-
stances related certainly wear an air of romance and impro-
bability; but, nevertheless, it can be fully authenticated. 1
am acquainted with several who can hear testimony to the
truth of every particular I have stated.

NOVEL COURSING.—On Monday morning last, whilst a
number of men were at work in a large field on Cog Farm,
near Cardiff, a fine hare made its appearance, pursued by a
large dog fox; and so intent was the latter upon its prey, that
it heeded not the shouting that ensued to scare him-off. The
hare was frequently turned by her crafty enemy, and her
escape seemed highly problematical; but Sir John Guest's
gamekeeper coining up at the time, he decided it in favour of
poor puss, by the unerring aim with which he lodged the con-
tents of his Joe Manton into her pursuer.
LADY NEWBOROUGH.—PARIS' NOV. 16.—A work was
first published in 1829, by Lady Newborougb, widow of the
second Lord Newborough, an Irish peer, and mother of the
late and of the present Lords Newborough, under the title of
Maria Stella. In that work Lady N. is stated to be the
daughter of the late Duke and Duchess of Orleans; and
that the present King of the French, horn at the same time,
is the son of the then jailer of Faenza. This brochure has
lately re-appeared in print (a second and third edition), and
has been sold publicly and with impunity. In the course of
last month, however, there appeared a very long account of
it in the Augsburg Gazette, sent thither (it is said, or surmised)
from St Petersburg. This circumstance appears to have
awakened the attention of thegovernment to the matter; for
yesterday morning Lady Newborough received an order
signed by the Minister of the Interior (Count Montalivet),
directing that (" her presence here being calculated to dis-
turb the public peace") Lady Newborough, "uneAnglaise,"
quit Paris within four and France within eight days. Some
hesitation appears to have been felt by the government on
the subject; for the order, although only " served" yesterday,
the 15th, was dated the Bth inst. Lady Newborough is, ne-
cessarily, being the same age as King Louis Philip—ad-
vanced in life and somewhat infirm. An application has
been made or will be made in consequence to obtain a post-
ponement of the date at which she is required to withdraw.
Whether that be granted or not, she means to plead that she
is not "English," as the order states—but "French." Here
the matter rests for the present. That her ladyship will
make all legal opposition to the decree is certain; but the
case of the Duke of Brunswick (and many others) shows
that, when in earnest about such matters, the French go-
vernment is peremptory.—Morninq paper.
A FORTUNATE. BA It RISTER.—There are always a consider-
able number of attorneys and barristers in the Queen's bench
prison. I need scarcely say, that in the great majority of
cases the attorneys were without practice, and the barristers
briefless, before their entrance. Some of the former, how-
ever, manage to raise a tolerable business within the walls
of the prison. Strange as it may appear, it does so happen
that persons have to date their prosperity in life to their
incarceration in the Queen's bench. One remarkable in-
stance consists with my personal knowledge. The party was
a barrister, but had never in his life had a single brief in his
bag. I.am not sure, indeed, having no use for it, whether
he had a bag at all. He was sent to vegetate for ten or
twelve months in the bench. While there, he contracted an
intimacy with one of the prisoners, of some station in so-
ciety, and of considerable wealth; though, through some
illegal proceeding, temporaily deprived of it. The case was
laid before the briefless barrister ; and, having abundant
time on his hands, he made himself completely master of it
in all its bearings. On his liberation, lie undertook to bring
it before the proper tribunal, making his remuneration en-
tirely dependent on his success: the party was liberated, and
be amply rewarded for his trouble. But the remuneration he
received was but a very subordinate portion of the benefit he
derived from the case. Possessed of very respectable natural
talents, and knowing the case so thoroughly, he made so
creditable a professional appearance in the court, that briefs,
from that time, poured in on him in copious abundance.
This was the tide in his affairs of which Shakspeare speaks :
he wisely took it at the flood, and led it on to fame acd for-
tune.—Sketches in London, by the Author of " The Great
Metropolis."
NEGRO DUEL.—A. duel between darkies, (says the New
Orleans Picayune,)—a regular-built affair, conducted accor-
ding to the most strict and punctilious provisions of the code
of honour,—came off one morning last week. The fight took
place with pistols of the most approved fashion, at sunrise,
on a small branch of the Metairie road. We do not know
what the origin of the difficulty was, except that one of the
parties, to use the phrase of one of the spectators, " was
crossed in lub by de oiler, and dat him hona mus hab satis-
facshun." We have learned, from one who was present at
the combat, the particulars as they transpired. They were
substantially as follow :—" After having taken their stand,
one of the seconds noticed, that, owing.to their positions, the
sunbeams set his principal a-winking and rolling his eyes.
This was a sufficient ground for interfering; and he called
out to the other second with 'I say, nigga, I puts my weto
on dat posishun. It's agin de rules oht all de codes oh hona
I'be eber seen. De frection oh de sun .shines ruder too
sebere, and make my principal roll him eye altogeder
too much.'--' Wy, wy, look here, .didn't we chuck up
dollar for choice eb de ground, and didn't 1 get him
myself ?'—` Yes, I knows you did; but den fair play's a juba,
and Ise no notion ob seeing my fren composed upon and lose
all de adwantage.'—' Well, nigga, Ise no notion too; Ise just
as good a right to hab no notion as you is, and I 'sists on
settlin the matter just as we is—and—' At this juncture, a
friendly cloud settled the matter at once by stepoip_g in be-
tween. the sun and the belligerents. 'The two first causes'
again took their positions, and, all the little preliminariesbeing settled, each one took his pistol ready cocked from his
second. Both manifested a tolerable degree of spunk, al-
though a bluish paleness spread itself over their black cheeks.
The second, who was to give out the fatal order which might
send them out of this world, now took his ground. Raising his
voice, he began—' Gentlemen, your time am cum,'—Both
signified their assent.—' Is you ready ? Flab! one two, tree.'
Bang, pop, went both pistols at once, one ball raising a dust in
the middle of the road, while the other took a 'slantindicklar'
course in among the bystanders, fortunately without bitting
any one. It was now time to interpose; and one of the se-
conds set himself about it. After a little conversation, the
challenged darky stepped forward, and ;aid to his antagonist,
Nigga, is you satisfied?'—' I So is 1, and Ise glad to
get off so. • Next time dey catches dis nigga out on sich a
foolish exhibition as dis, dey'll hab to fotch me, dat dey will
for sartin.'—` Dem's my sentiments ezackly,' retorted the
other. When your onmortal instrument of def wheat off,
declar I thought I was gone child; but Ise so happy now;
—gosh, let's shake hands, and go back to our abocations.'
* * In five minutes' time, all bands—enemies, friends,
darkies, whites, and all—were on the road home to work,
perfectly satisfied with the sports of the morning."

LIVERPOOL MECHANICS' INSTITUTION

LECTURES ON PAINTING.

On Wednesday evening, B. R. Haydon, Esq. the cele-
brated historical painter, whose productions and lectures
have excited so much admiration in this town, commenced a
course of eight lectures upon the Art of Painting.
Genius is the foundation of excellence, and whatever Sir
Joshua lie) nolds may say to the contrary, it can never be
acquired. Indeed, Sir Joshua Reynolds, upon this point,
contradicts himself whenever he speaks of it. If you have
great genius, industry can only prove it, but if you have it
not, although industry may be exerted ad infinitum, it never
can replace it. Industry can teach no man how to invent.
Dr. Johnson says that genius is nothing but a mind of great
power accidentally turned to some peculiar object, and
Madame de Stael says that it. is some faculty of the mind
turned to account. Reynolds says that a man must have no
dependence upon his own genius, but it was not by this that
Alexander conquered the nations on his travel to India, that
Buonaparte carved his way to fame, or that Wellington sub-
dued Portugal. The confidence which a man of genius feels
in his own powers is not the impudence of conceit; and it is the
duty of every state to encourage genius, whether manifested
by the poorest of the poor, or the richest of the rich.
It is impossible to fix any date for the invention of any art.
In all probability, poetry, painting, sculpture, and music,
were severally called into existence 'by the first genius that
appeared in either after the creation. To represent objects
as they really appear in nature, constitutes a painter of the
highest class. A deep knowledge of the human form is the
basis of all other artistical knowledge. In consequence of
the art being allowed to pursue its own course in England,
unassisted by state support, and dependent only upon the
patronage of liberal individuals, the highest walks have been
neglected, and in that respect we have gone behind the con-
tinental schools. It has been contended by many, that this
is a national result, as from the nature of the climate, and
habits and dispositions of its inhabitants, the English school
could not be otherwise than a bad one; but excelling as the
English do, iu every art where encouragement is given them,
this cannot be a rational argument. One reason why art is
in a low state in England is because artists get moneibefcre
they get knowledge. Let the genius of a painter be what it
will, the first patronage which he receives is that of painting
the forms of the family of his patron. Suppose a child mani-
fest any skill in drawing, his juvenile efforts are directed to
the painting of portraits. When more advanced iu life he
goes to London, by good fortune paints the likeness of a
chief justice from his native town, and a gallery is formed,
and can it be wondered that our hero looks with con tempt at
Michael Angelo, who spent 12 years in dissection, whilst be
has got on without it. He sneers at high art at the dinner
tables of the rich, makes a large fortune, and wonders how
any individual can be found to say there is not any encou-
ragement fur art. This class, of artists have had all the en-
couragement for the last 70 years, and we have not had a
first-rate historical work of art during that time to grace the
London exhibition. A man has no more right to intrude
upon the public who cannot draw, than a man Of letters who
cannot spell, or a surgeon who cannot dissect. In the reign
of Edward 1., English painters drew as well as any painters
on earth at that time. An English exhibition now is a muss
of mis-directed talent. It is impossible that a people so in-
tellectual as the English could be behind their neighbours in
art, if their efforts were properly directed, any more than
they are behind them in any thing else.
In his youth, the lecturer was much struck with the beauty
of the human figure, and soon became convinced that by
analyzing its composition he could easily depict the inferior
animals of the creation. He found that every part of the
human body varies, in action and in repose, that the opposite
contours of each limb always varied from each other, whilst
the sides of the human figure are the same when the man
stands perpendicularly. It was an attention to these and
similar principles by which the Elgin marbles are the finest
productions which the world ever beheld. Were the Elgin
marbles destroyed, there would be as great a gap in art as
there would be in astronomy, had Newton never existed.
There is no difference of style in the Elgin marbles, but there
is a difference in execution, because in a vast work of this
kind Phidias was obliged to employ different pupils. The
fish of Phidias were so excellently formed, that the poet
Martial paid them this exquisite compliment—" Adde aquam,
et natabunt." Add water, and they will swim. In the
Elgin marbles the eyes of the horses are represented as pro-
jecting and_ yet sunken like the human eye. Prior to the

discovery of 'these marbles the eye of the horse was repre-
sented, even by Michael Angelo himself, as sunken. Che
ancients never placed the human eve below the centre of the
head, and Sir Walter Scott and Hippocrates had their eyes
below the centre. This, however, does not add to the beauty
of the human face.

It has frequently been asked how the Greeks attained their

faultless perfection. They were men subject to the same joys
arid sorrows as ourselves. Did they dissect? All the great
modern masters dissect. The early I;reek masters wrote
learned treatises upon their art. Genius is the base of excel-
lence,—from the base of art,--and dissection the basis of
form. There are, however, many artists who say that dis-
section had nothing to do with the excellence of Greek
sculpture, and they ground their belief upo❑ the strong
veneration which the Greeks paid to their dead, and the
severe laws which existed against dissection. To this it may
be answered that there were, until recently, laws in this
country against dissection : still we know that dissection took
place every day. All the superstition and laws in the world
would net prevent men of genius from pursuing their own
course. It is of great importance to know whether the Greeks
knew anything of anatomy. John Bell thinks they did not,
but that they succeeded by a surer and an easier rule. This
cannot be the case : indeed, there is more knowledge of
anatomy required in those parts which do not shew so much
action as in those which do. It must be admitted that many

Greek artists must have seen animals skinned, and if they
did so they must have associated the movements beneath the
skin, when the animals were alive, with what they had seen.
The very arguments which are noiv used to prove that the
Greeks did not study anatomy, might be adduced 2,000 years
hence to shew that we did not study anatomy. One of the
most powerful arguments in favour of the study of anatomy
by artists is the celebrated letter which Burke wrote from

Italy to Barry. Barry, however, never had the courage to
attempt anatomy, in consequence of which there is not one
of his figures anatomically tormed. The deepest knowledge
of the human figure must be the corner-stone of our future
progress; if not so, every school of art will end, as the Bri-
tish Academy has, in the formation of honourable situations
for a few individuals, and in a system of jobbing. The lec-
turer had much better hopes of the country during his late
progress through it, as he had everywhere seen a desire to be
instructed in the art. _ _

The lecturer illustrated this lecture with an anatomical
drawing of a lion and a man in erect positions, and pointed
out the different structures of each. He likewise chewed
that the opposite contours of the human limbs were different
when an individual is standing erect, whilst those of the body
are similar.

IMPORTANT SAVINGS IN SEED WHEAT.—It has been
stated that if dibbling wheat, as practised in Norfolk, Suffolk,
and some other counties, was generally adopted, full
10,000,000 bushels of seed might be saved on the 4,000,000
acres of wheat grown annually in England and Scotland;
and allowing eight bushels to each person, would support
1,250000 persons, who, if employed in weeding the crops,
might double them.—Hull Times.

THS CORPORATION NUISANCE OF BIRMINGHAM.—At
meeting of the anti-corporation committee, held last week,
the Birmingham Gazette says, " We understand it was unani-
mously resolved to oppose the charter by every constitutional
means. Its deviations from the provisions of the act under
which it is professedly granted, in the opinion of many pro-
fessional men, render it illegal and ineffective. The borough
lists, which were last week published, have the reputation of
containing the names of many hundred unqualified persons,
but whether objections have been made to any extent we are
unaware. We have heard of no proceeding of the kind from
any body of individuals of either party."
SAFETY GUARDS ON RAlLWAYS.—Speaking of the North
American railways, Mr. Stevenson, in his interesting work
on the civil engineering in North America, lately published,
says :—" From the unprotective state of most of the railways,
which are seldom fenced, cattle often stray upon the line,
and are run down by the engines, which are in some cases
thrown off the rails by the concussion, producing very serious
consequences. To obviate this, and render railway travelling
more safe, an apparatus, called a guard, has been introduced.
The guard consists of a strong framework of wood, fixed to
the fore-axle of the locomotive carriage, and supported on
two small wheels about two feet in diameter, which tun on
the rails about three feet in advance of the engine. The
outer extremity of the framework is shod with iron, slightly
bent up, and comes to within an inch of the top of the rails.
The upper part of the surface of the guard is covered with
wood, and the lower part with an iron grating. The appara-
tus affords complete protection to the wheels of the engine.
1 experienced the good effects of it on one occasion on the
Camden and Amboy railway: the train in which I travelled,
while moving with considerable rapidity, Caine in contact
with a large waggon loaded with firewood, which was
lite-
rally shivered to atoms by the concussion. The fragments
of the broken waggon, and the wood with which it was loaded,
were distributed on each side of the railway • but the guard
prevented any part of them from falling before the engine
wheels, and this obviated what naightin that case have proved
a very serious accident." This apparatus might be intro-
duced with much advantage on the, railways in this country,
on which repeated accidents have happened from similar
causes."

A NOBLE INCIDENT Or HISTORY DISPUTED.—Rear-Ad-
mire! Griffiths has thus written to the Sul:—" Since the pe-
riod of Lord Howe's victory, on Ist June, 1794, the story of
the Vengeur French 74 gun ship going down with co-
lours flying, and her crew crying " Vive la Republique!
Vive la Liberte!" &c., and the further absurdity that they
continued firing the main deck guns, after her lower deck was
immersed, has been repeatedly declared, and has been very
recently re-asserted by a French author. It originated, no
doubt, on the part of the French, in political and exciting
motives—precisely as Bonaparte caused his victory at Trafal-
gar to be promulgated through France. While these reports
and confident assertions were confined to our neighbours, it
seemed little worth the while to contradict it. But now,
when two English authors of celebrity--Mr. Allison, in his
history of Europe during the French revolution, and Mr.
Carlyle, in his similar work—give it the confirmation of Eng-
lish authority, I consider it right thus to declare, the whole
story is a ridiculous piece of nonsense. At the time the Ven-
geur sunk, the action had ceased some time. The French
fleet were making off before the wind, and captain Renaudin
and his son had been nearly half an hour prisoners on board
H. M. S. Culloden, of which ship I was the fourth lieutenant,
and about 127 of the crew were also prisoners, either on board
the Culloden, or in her boats, besides, I believe, 100 in the
Alfred's, and some 40 in the hired cutter, commanded by
Lieut. (the late Rear-Admiral) Winne. Vengeur was taken
possession of by the boatsof the Culloden, Lieut. Rotherham,
and the Alfred, Lieut. Deschamps; and Capt. Renaudin and
myself, who were, by Capt. Schomberg's desire, zik lunch in
his cabin, healing the cries of distress, ran to the starboard
quarter gallery, and thence witnessed the melancholy scene.
Never were men in distress more ready to save themselves.

THE MORECAMBE BAY SCHEME.—The following letter
has been addressed to the editor of the Railway Times:—
"Sir,—As the practicability of an enbankment over More-
cambe Bay is no longer thought visionary, and Mr. Hague's
estimates, and the numerous details that have been published
in the Lancashire and Westmoreland newspapers, have pre-
pared the public mind for this gigantic undertaking, far sur-
passing 'all Greek or Roman fame,' a few hints respecting
the value of the preserved land may probably prove of ser-
vice to some of your numerous readers. lam a native of the
latter county ; but considerably interested as a landowner in
• both ; and th e idea has frequently occurred to me, that if a few
spirited individuals, with the assistance of the Earls of Bur-
lington eu-d---Letwitale, -e-ad - the members for the counties,
were to step forward, form themselves into a company,
and obtain an act of parliament for the formation of the
railway, with a proviso, that all the land saved as far
up as the present -embankment at Castle Head, Lindal,
and, in fact, where the tide flows, should become their
property, I am convinced that the sale of the land would
more than amply pay for the embankment, with all parlia-
mentary, engineering, and law expences, &c. Mr. Hague
estimates the acres saved at £23 per acre on. 52,000 acres,
which amounts to £1,196,000. Now, lum of opinion, that
the land, if put up to public competition, would fetch more
than £23 per acre, more like £3O, or even a higher sum, and
that the number of acres would exceed 52,000; in Lancashire
most people say 80,000 acres; and, if I mistake not, the
latter number are what Mr. Stevenson calculated. This land
would be the finest wheat and crop land in the county, and I
have no doubt great part of it has sonic time or other been in
a state of cultivation ; but having no protection or breakwater
from cliffs, and being nearly on a level with the sea, as well
as lying directly in the teeth of the south-westerly winds, the
strong spring tides have gradually overflowed, and eat the
soil away, so that when once it becomes dry, and protected
from the saltwater, its richness will he astonishing, and
more than thrice repay the labour of cultivation."

LATEST DATES AT LIVERPOOL.
Direct. Indirect. From Direct. Indirect.
Calcutta ..
Bombay .
Mauritius
Lima .
St. Helena.
Rio.
Bahia .... Sept. 23

TIDE TABLE.