The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-11-13 00:00:00

noxious article ; the answer to this application is still in my
possession, and is penned in an apologetic tone: it states
that the manuscript had been handed in, paid for, and in-
serted as an advertisement, without sufficient inquiry, or any
knowledge as to whom it referred. No step, however, was
taken to clear my uncle's character in the judgment of the
public; and as he immediately sold a small property, the
application of the proceeds of which were known to none,
he was said to have disposed of it to enable himself to buy
off the threatened information ; however the truth might
have been, it is certain that no charges respecting the mys-
terious murder were afterwards publicly made against my
uncle, and, as far as external appearances were concerned, he
enjoyed henceforward perfect security and quiet. A deep
and fasting impression, however, had been made upon the
public mind, and Sir Arthur 'l'—n was no longer visited
or noticed by the gentry and aristocracy of the county, whose
attentions and courtesies he bad hitherto received. He ac-
cordingly effected to despise these enjoyments which he
could not procure, and shunned even that society which he
might have commanded. This is all that I need recapitulate
of my uncle's history, and I now recur to my own. Although
my father had never, within my recollection, visited, or been
visited by my uncle, each being of sedentary, procrastinating,
and secluded habits, and their respective residences being
very far apart—the one lying in the county of Galway, the
other in that of Cork—he was strongly attached to his bro-
ther, and evinced his affection by an active correspondence,
and by deeply and proudly resenting that neglect which had
marked Sir Arthur as unfit to mix in society. When 1 was
about eighteen years of age, my father, whose health had
been gradually declining, died, leaving ore in heart wretched
and desolate, and owing to his previous seclusion, with few
acquaiutanc.es, and almost no friends. The provisions of his
will were curious, and when 1 was sufficiently come to myself
to listen to, or comprehend them, surprised me not a little;
all his vast property was left to me, and to the heirs of my
body, for ever ; and, in default of such heirs, it was to go
after my death to my uncle, Sir Arthur, without any entail.
At the same time, the will appointed him my guardian, desi-
ring that I might be received within his house, and reside
with his family, and under his care, during the term of my
minority; and in consideration of the increased expense
consequent upon such an arrangement, a handsome annuity
was allotted to him during the term of my proposed resi-
dence. The object of this last provision 1 at once under-
stood; my father desired, by making it the direct, apparent
interest of Sir Arthur, that I should die without issue, while
at the same time he placed ins wholly in his power, to prove
to the world, how great and unshaken was his confidence in
his brother's innocence and honour, and also to afford him
an opportunity of showing that this mark of confidence was
nut unworthily bestowed. It was a strange, perhaps an idle
scheme, but as I had been always brought up in the habit of
considering my uncle as a deeply injured man, and had been
taught almost as a part of my religion, to regard him as the
very soul of honour, 1 felt no further uneasiness respecting
the arrangement, than that likely to result to a timid girl, of
secluded habits, from the immediate prospect of taking up
her abode, for the first time in her life, among total strangers;
previous to my leaving my home, which I felt I should do
with a heavy heart, I received a most tender and affectionate
letter from my uncle, calculated, if any thing could do so, to
remove the bitterness of parting from scenes familiar arid
dear from my earliest childhood, and in some degree to re-
concile tne to the measure. It was upon a fine Autumn that
I approached the old domain of Carrickleigh. I shall not
soon forget the impression of sadness and of gloom which all
that 1 saw produced upon my mind ; the sunbeams were fall-
ing with a rich and melancholy tint upon the fine old trees,
which stood in lordly groups, casting their long sweeping
shadows over rock and sward ; there was an air of neglect
and decay about the spot, which amounted almost to desola-
tion, the symptoms of this increased in number as we ap-
proached the building itself, near which the ground had been
originally more artificially and carefully cultivated than
elsewhere, and whose neglect consequently more immediately
and strikingly betrayed itself. As we proceeded, the road
wound near the beds of what had been two fish-ponds,
which were now nothing more than stagnant swamps, over-
grown with rank weeds, and here and there encroached upon
by the straggling underwood; the avenue itself was much
broken; and in many places the stones were almost con-
cealed by grass and nettles; the loose stone walls which had
here and there intersected the broad park, were, in many
places, broken down, so as no longer to answer their original
purpose as fences; piers were now and then to be seen, but
the gates were gone; and, to add to the general air of dilapi-
dation, some huge trunks were lying scattered through the
venerable old trees, either the work of the winter storms, or
perhaps the victims of some extensive but desultory scheme
of denudation, which the projector had not capital or perse-
verance to carry into full effect. After the carriage had tra-
velled a mile of this avenue, we reached the summit of rather
an abrupt eminence, one of the many which added to the
picturesqueness, if not to the convenience, of this rude pas-
sage; from the top of this ridge the grey walls ofCarrickleigh
were visible, rising at a small distance in front, and darkened
by the hoary wood which crowded around them ; it was a
quadrangular building of considerable extent, and the front,
which lay towards us, and in which the great entrance was
placed, bore unequivocal marks of antiquity; the time-worn,
solemn aspect of the old building, the ruinous and deserted
appearance of the whole place, and the associations which
connected it with a dark page in the history of my family,
combined to depress spirits already predisposed for the re-
ception of sombre and dejecting impressions. When the
carriage drew up in the grass -grown court-yard before the
hall-door, two lazy-looking men, whose appearance well
accorded with that of the place which they tenanted, alarmed
by the obstreporous barking of a great chained dog, ran out
from sonic half-ruinous out-houses, and took charge of the
horses; the hall-door stood open, and I entered a gloomy
and imperfectly lighted apartment, and found no one within;
however, I had not long to wait in this awkward predica-
ment, for before my luggage had been deposited in the house,
indeed before I had well removed my cloak and other muf-
fles, so as to enable me to look around,. a young girl ran
lightly into the hall, and kissing me heartily, and somewhat
boisterously exclaimed—" My dear cousin, my dear Marga-
ret,—l am so delighted—so out of breath; we din not expect
you till ten o'clock; my father is somewhere about the place
—he must be close at hand. James—Corney—run out and
tell your master—my brother is seldom at home, at least at
any reasonable hour—you must be so tired—so fatigued—
let me show you to your room—see that Lady Margaret's
luggage is all brought up—you must lie down and rest
yourself—Deborah bring some coffee—up these stairs; we
are so delighted to see you—you cannot think how lonely I
have been—how steep these stairs are, are not they ? I am
so glad you are come-=-I could hardly bring to myself to be-
lieve that you were really coining—how good of you, dear
Lady Margaret." There was real good nature and delight
in my cousin's greeting, and a kind of constitutional confi-
dence of manner which placed me at once at ease, and made
me feel immediately on terms of intimacy with her. The
room into which she ushered me, although partaking in the
general air of decay which pervaded the mansion and all
about it, had, nevertheless, been fitted up with evidentaitr-
tention to comfort, and even with some dingy attempt at
luxury ; but what pleased ore most was th4t it opened, by a
second door, upon a lobby which communicated with my ra
cousin's apartment; a circumstance which divested the room,
in my eyes, of the air of solitude and sadness which would
otherwise have characterized it, to a degree almost painful
to one so dejected in spirits as I was. After such arrange-
ments as 1 found necessary were completed, we both went
down to the parlour, a large wainscoated room, hung round
with grim old portraits, and as I was not sorry to see, con-
taining, in its ample grate, a large and cheerful fire. Here
my cousin had leisure to talk more at her ease; and from her
I learned something of the manners and the habits of the
two remaining members of her family, whom I had not 'set
seen. On my arrival I had known nothing of the family
among whom 1 was come to reside, except that it consisted of
three individuals, my uncle, and his son and daughter, Lady
1' n having been long dead ; in addition to this very
scanty stock of information, I shortly learned from my com-
municative companion, that my uncle was, as I had suspect-
ed, completely retired in his habits, and besides that, having
been so far back as she could well recollect, always rather
strict, as reformed rakes frequently become, he had latterly
been growing more gloomily and sternly religious than
heretofore. Her account of her brother was far less favour-
able, though she did not say anything directly to his disadvan-
tage. From all that I could gather from her, I was tied to
suppose that he was a specimen of the idle, eoarsesmituriered,
profligate, low-minded "squirearchy"--Ta reeulewhichMight
naturally have flowed from the circumstance* . is
it were, outlawed from society, and driven fol'enittiStirlibuSh'ip
to grades below his own—enjoying, too, the dangerous Pre
rogative of spending much money. HoweVer, • you may
easily suppose that I found nothing in my cousins communi-
cation, fully to bear me out in so very decided a cenclusien.
(To !--e continued.)

At the late election of town councillors at Winchester, a
radical mob was hired (query if paid) to insult and intimidate
ever; conservative elector as he came to the poll, but as the
result proved, without success. This is whig-radical freedom
in illustration of the advantages of municipal reform.
Partis.—A greater abomination of vice and wickedness
than Paris cannot exist upon earth. There is a perpetual
tumult and scramble, as it were, for some new device, to cul-
tivate and develope with earnest zeal all the base and sinful
passions that belong to the worst parts of human nature.
Sir IV. Knig hton.
POOR VAN AMBURGH.—This; daring man is not, as is ge-
nerally believed, the owner of the wild beasts who per form
at Drury-lane Theatre. They belong to au individual trained
Titus—not " The Clement"—for all that he allows Van
Amburgh for nightly running the risk of being torn to pieces
by these lions, tigers, and leopards, is £5 a week ! Von Am-
burgh has his sandals, toe and heel, armed by a sharp and
powerful spur, with which he pricks his grisly companions
into apparent submission; and his head is rubbed with some
unguent, of which the beastesses are remarkably fond, as is
seen by their frequently licking it—an act which is supposed
by the spectators—good easy people—to proceed from pure
affection. The manager, taking for his motto "No Song no
Supper," does not allow the brutes any wittels until after
they have performed ; it is then they are fed. They are kept
the whole of the day behind the scenes, in the dark, and it
is wonderful that the sudden exposure to the glare of the
theatre and especially of the foot lights, does not turn them
mad. In the more congenial atmosphere of Astley's they
were comparatively well off, for they were during the day in
the light and air. Van Atnburgh says he will never be able
to tame one of the tigers; it growls most ferociously at him;
the unfortunate man had his leg lately torn, but whether by
this amicable cub, or one of the others, 'we know not.—
Literary Gazette.
AMUSEMENTS IN LOUISIANA.—We have just been put in
possession of the following account of the way in which some
part of the community amuse themselves in Louisiana. It
appears that about fifteen years since, a man by the name of
Hagerty, near Harrisonburg, was, as .is said, by the male-
volence of one Humble, charged with larceny. it appeared
upon the trial that the witness was suborned, anti Hagerty
was honourably acquitted. From that time forward a con•
butted and burning hostility has existed between the two
parties, producing, of course, many scenes of outrage and
disorder, the spirit of which was most naturally and readily
imbibed by the °ling men of both parties. Some years after
the charge of larceny, Hagerty was murdered by one of his
slaves, who, at the execution, declared that "he was hired to
kill his toaster by a man in the neighbourhood." The young
Ilagertvs believed it was one of the Humbles who had insti-
gated the assassination. The war was continued with great
spirit and various success, though the Hagertys were generally
oppressed, their whole force being but a young man and a
little bay but sixteen Nears old. About the first of this month
(September), Humble, with his two associates, Bass and
Davis, caught this boy, ducked him, stripped hint, and then
whipped him in the most unmerciful manner.—The next day I
there was a police election. The parties met ! Humble, Bass
and Davis armed with rifles and pistols! Young told Hum-
ble that his little brother had been abused by them men, and
he wished to know whether either of them had sptrit enough
to fight hint ? Humble raised his rifle to shoot him, and
Hagerty sprang behind a tree. Humble 10Id Bass to go round
the tree with his rifle and shoot him if he did not" come out."
The bill' handed his brother the double-harrelled gun who
instantfy stepped out with his•glity-at " order," atid told
Humble he should have a fair chance if he wished to kill him!
Humble thne took deliberate aim and shot him—then turned
in the door to get his pistol, advanced with it cocked and
raised to an " aim," when he received the whole contents of
one barrel from the hands of the little boy, anti fell dead.
The little fellow had just time to turn upon Bass, who was
advancing upon him from behind with his rifle at at a dead
aim. But he did turn without flinching, anti powered the
contents of the second barrel into the bosom of Bass, who
fell dead at his feet. The boy was shot in the Brest, reeled
anti fell, just in time to avoid the fire of Davis, who took a
pistol shot at his back ! The boy and Bass were both dread-
fully powder burnt. Davis was arrested by the bystanders;
but a justice of peace came up, and told them he did not
think it right to keep a man "tied in that manner," and " he
thought it best to turn him loose." It was accordingly so done,
and he absconded. Of the remaining four engaged in this
terrible affray, the little boy alone survives.—Boston Journal.