The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1847-09-07 00:00:00

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD:

TheMhOW

Scriptural Epitaphs. Smith, Elder, and Co., London. INDIFFERENCE OF THE PUBLIC THE GREAT
The design of this little book—which is very beautifully HINDRANCE TO SANITARY REFORM. •
printed and neatly bound—is "to furnish a selection of
passages from the Holy Scriptures suitable for Christian (From Fraser's Magazine.)
epitaphs, in the hope that it may tend to a more judicious The great difficulty with which the advocates of sanitary
choice of monumental inscriptions." It is too frequently reform have to contend, is the apathy of the people in all
+b. .... thfit lines or inscriptions are placed on tomb that concerns the preservation of health and life. It has

THE PERSONATOR

A SCENE FROM " AN IRISH ELECTION IN THE TIM}
OF THE FORTIES."
(From the Dublin University Magazine.)
- - - n7Y

taste, but are
re multi-

stones, which a

even ludicrous—
tude s

not only offensive to goon
" not blasphemous. There ,
)assages in the pible which can be very advan-

never oceurrei

look upon

They forget that it is by it alone that they are enabled to
earn a livelihood ; that the strength of their bodies, the
skill of their hands. and even the operations of their

tageously used to set forth tne ieeungs or tne mourners,
and possibly be of lasting benefit to some casual reader.
With this view the compiler of the work before us has
brought together about three hundred suitable texts of
and we call only hope that his laudable effort
1 to bring about a thorough reformation in the
' • -- This little book

minds, are directly contingent upon the continuance of
their health ; that upon it depends their own subsistence,
and the support of wife and children ; that without it they
must bid adieu to comfort, to independence, to all hope of
bettering their condition or rising in the world ; that, in a
word, in every -conflict with outward things, in the pursuits

Scripture
will ten

in the hand of every pa

i-clerk in

of peace as in the strut
3ease defeat.
But not only is the great mass of the people unconsciou
iifferent to, this great truth, but those

e kingdom

les of war, health is victory an

The Natural History of

Stuck-up I

of, or it

to whom a

This little work cont,

les of a

CU11V.1,11.1 LPL Luc v aiuc ua
last to feel it and to act upon it. In the tailors' work-
shop and in the printing-office, where men rot like sheep
in the marshes, poisoned by impure air ; among the fork-
grinders of Sheffield, and in the noisome cellars of Liver-
pool ; you will find this indifference at its height. The
inhabitants of these places are not ignorant of their dan-
ger, but custom has blunted their feelings. They know
that they are doomed to a sickly existence and an early
grave, that in their peaceful occupations they have not even
the soldier's chance of escape, and that with scarcely an
exception they will die before their time; but they are fa-
talists almost to a man, and, as far as this part of their
creed is concerned, might as well be Mahometans as
Christians. The very men who would move heaven and
earth to maintain some petty usage of their trade, or to
resist the most unimportant innovation of their so-called
rights, will suffer themselves to be suffocated and poisoned
without a murmur, and even oppose the most unreasona-
ble and vexatious obstacles to the humane attempts of
the employer to improve their condition. But the infa-
tuation of these men does not stop here ; for, in exact
proportion as their occupations are fatal to health and life,
they are addicted to that destructive habit of intoxication,
which exerts so strange a fascination over the victims of
physical and moral wretchedness.
This reckless disregard of health and life, this wanton
waste of the poor man's only property, this strange apa-
thy in a matter so momentous, forms, as we have said, the
great difficulty in the way of sanitary reform. The school-
master and the clergvman are sadly wanted here. The

class of people who are to be
author has placed them upon th
in every grade of lif

a town, not a vii
.up people "—its
family who do not visit with tradespeople ; its

, not a

nuitant veg

vegetating upon
t ters are taught to consid(

hundred a year,
the family of M:

" Ay, but where is he, and what his name ?"
" He is under the care of honest Paddy Brandy, who
will see that he doesn't communicate with or go over to
the enemy. His real name, I dare say, few know ; his
alias, for the present, is Pendleton."
He had scarcely concluded, when Brandy, who received
that soubriquet from his predilection for the liquor in
question, which was the only description of spirits he
ever drank, now entered, accompanied by a respectable-
looking Methodist preacher, or, at least, by a person in
the garb of one.
" What is this, Paddy ?" exclaimed Burnside, angrily ;
" where did you leave Pendleton, or what has become of
him ?"
" Begorra, sir," replied Brandy, " he was too soople
for me! What has became of him is more than I can
tell; but he has given me the slip at all events. In the
mane time, here is a gintleman that wishes to say some-
thing to you about the election."
" Certainly," said Burnside ; " with pleasure. I hope
you 're a friend, sir," he added, addressing the stranger.
" I know not exactly whether I am a friend to you,
sir," replied the Methodist ; " but I trust I am a friend
to truth." _ _ _ _

wealthy grocer over tl

from their teens to that period at which ladies are uncer-
tain whether to prefix Miss or Mistress best becomes them
in hopeless assaults upon the few presentable bachelors to
be met with in their petty sphere. Stuck-up people are
to be met with everywhere ; and some of the specimens
to be found amongst the middle ranks, rendering their

"Have you a vote ?" asked Burnside.
" I have a vote," replied the other, " but I am not
clear that I should give it to a man whose private morals
are questionable, as those of Mr. Vanston are reported to
be-"

poverty contemptible by the airs Ns
the transparent devices which they use to conceal it, would
afford a far more taking subject for ridicule than that
which Mr. Albert Smith has chosen— the Lacquer Fa-
mily. He has handled his subject, however, with great
cleverness and some of the scenes—the dinner party es-

ssume, ant

are very effectiv(

The Bottle. In eight Plates. By George Cruickshank.
London : D. Bogue ; and Wiley andPutman, New York.
In this effort, the distinguished artist has aimed suc-
cessfully at the production of a series of pictures in the
Hogarth vein, containing in themselves at once a picture
• A •,

g of tt

" We have nothing to do with his private life, I hope,"
aid Burnside.
" Pardon me, my friend ; that is the great error of
Protestantism—in the heat of our zeal for the ascendancy
of our principles, we are too apt to overlook purity of
private life. How can a man, negligent of moral obliga-
tion, and dead to religious experience, prove himself a
consistent advocate for truth ?"
" Pray, are you a clergyman ?" asked Billy, adroitly ;
" because, if you be, no man, I assure you, respects con-
scientious scruples more than I do. Your sentiments
certainly do you honour "
" I am a clergyman only in a certain sense ; in a true
sense, I trust, though not in a legal one. I belong to
that humble but earnest class, the Primitive Wesleyans,
and my call to teach and to preach is from above. My
name is John Wesley O'Rafferty—a brand plucked from
the burning. and a sincere convert from the abominable

&lan must

pulpit especially must be put in requisition
be taught his duty to his own body. The dictum of
Samuel Johnson, that " to preserve health is a moral and
religious duty," must be enforced in the Church. Men
must be reminded that long life, and, by inference, the
sound health of which it is the consequence and the sign,
bold a prominent place among the temporal blessings
promised in Scripture. Above all, the minister of religion
should bear always in mind, that every year snatched from
unhealthy occupations or unwholesome habits and added
to the term of human existence, is so much added to his
own opportunities of usefulness,—so much, under Provi-
dence, to the sinner's time of trial and repentance, and the
Christian's period of improvement. Hitherto the clergy
have not exerted themselves in this promising field of
Christian labour. Their thoughts have not been turned
in that direction. They have looked upon disease too
much in the light of a punishment, and too little in that
of a necessary and natural consequence of an infringement
of God's laws revealed in man's body, and in the elements
by which it is supported. The pestilence bred and nursed
in filth has been regarded as a providential provision
against a redundant population ; and the merciful Being
who has declared that he " willeth not the death of a sin-
ner," is supposed to have made express provision
.to en-
sure the premature death of a man. We must not enter
further upon this subject. Enough that we have invited
the co-operation of the clergy in a work in which all their
efforts are urgently required. They themselves are the
best judges of their own opportunities and duties.
In this truly Christian work of rousing the people of
England to a sense of the value of health and life, the
members of the medical profession may co-operate with
even more effect. In their home ministrations, and in
that larger sphere of duty afforded by hospitals and dis-
pensaries, they have golden opportunities of impressing
on the minds of all classes, but especially of the lowest,
those simple rules for the preservation of health, of which
nine-tenths of the people are grossly ignorant, and the
greater part of the remaining tenth disgracefully careless.
We know that many members of that most unselfish pro-
fession have already embarked heart and soul in the cru-
sade against the causes of disease which swell the lists of
their own patients, and in a noble spirit of forgetfulness,
are doing everything in their power to dry up the foul
springs of their own prosperity. How favourably does
this contrast with the narrow and jealous spirit of paro-
chialism, which will not resign the least of local usages,
though the lives of the poor are at stake, and the pockets
of t 1 rata!-rinvors heavily taxed ! It is more in sorrow

er of the family, caused oy inuuigence
is traced until, the wife having been
ed upon her by her husband by the
their join.; de-

killed by a blow inflict
„*.,,ca

LA lcaaDaa 111 41,a4 ma,.
gradation, the unhappy being himself is represented in
the last plate as a hopeless maniac, visited in his cell by
his son and daughter, the former a thief, and the latter an
outcast of the street._ The plates are of a large size,
about 15 inches by 12, are full of character ; and the price
at which they are sold—a shilling—should induce their
being purchased extensively for framing, as substitutes
fnr the trashy pictures which are to be found in the houses

'07;7 ;;;;:: and- -even of some of our middle classes
An Edition is also printed on fine paper, and tinted.

Blackwood's Magazine contains one or two amusing
articles of a light and entertaining character, along with
two or three of a higher class. The best of the former is
" How I stood for the Dreepdaily Boroughs"—a laugh-
able sketch, containing some good hits at the electioneer-
ing morality of our cannie northern fellow-countrymen.
" The Crusade of the Children" is a beautifully-written
lesson ; and the article, " Le Premier Pas" contains some
truths which may be studied with advantage. We have
also some excellent reviews, and other interesting and in-
structive matter.

SECOND EDIT!

Standard-office, Two o'clock

I LIVE

CORN EXCHANGE-THIS

receipts of any kind of produ

system of Popery."
" Pray, was your father a Papist, Mr. O'Rafferty ?"
"Unhappily he was," replied O'Rafferty, " for which
I fear he is now paying the penalty."
" And how did it happen that he, being a Catholic,.
should have christened you John Wesley O'Rafferty ?"
asked Burnside.
" He never did so, my friend," replied the preacher.
" The name bestowed upon me at the font was Patrick,
or, as I was more familiarly called, Paddy. I felt un-
comfortable under that ungodly name as soon as I had
ceased to be an Idolater, and changed it to the more suit-
able one of John Wesley."
" A very appropriate change, indeed," replied Billy,
with great suavity, " and an evident proof of your sin-
cerity. But, Mr. Wesley, I trust you are coming to give
us your vote."
" Unless Mr. Vanston shall express himself willing to
attend some of our meetings, and sit occasionally under
our ministry, I fear I cannot conscientiously do so. I
am decidedly opposed to the practice of sending ungodly
men to parliament. I think none but serious persons, of
decided piety, should be sent there, and that our legisla-
ture ought to be only another name for a religious meet-
ing."
" You are perfectly right, Mr. O'Rafferty," replied
Burnside ; " but, touching your objection, I believe I
can remove it ; for it is no longer than the day before
yesterday that Mr. Vanston spoke in the highest terms of
the connexion to which you belong, and expressed a de-
termination, as soon as he should be returned for the
county, to examine into your principles. I encouraged
him strongly in that determination, having myself felt
very serious impressions for some time past, and a dispo-
sition to take the same steps. So far, then, as Mr. Van-
ston is concerned, you may lay aside your scruples."
" There is a good deal of truth in what the gentleman
" observed another supporter of Vanston's. " A

still unimportant ;
•oad since Friday, th

Church aiding and abetting, instead of sternly reproving,
this mean display of local selfishness.

man of unscrupulous life and morals ought not, ceeteris
paribus, to be returned to parliament whilst a man of
private worth and honour can be had. See what discredit
the Liberal party have entailed upon themselves, by
electing unprincipled adventurers, who have scarcely any
other means of subsistence than what they derive from
the sale of their franks, or swindle at the gaming-table ;
—men without fortune, principle, or character—the asso-
ciates of sharpers and blacklegs—who contrive to get
themselves into parliament, not for the public good, but
in order to be able to laugh at and cheat their creditors.
These men, I say, may be proper exponents of the public
honesty which influences the party that countenances
them, in defiance of public shame and decency, but they
are, at the same time, very unfit persons to guard the
moral interests of society, which they themselves openly

trample upon and violate."
" Well, in that case," observed. O'Rafferty, addressing
himself to Burnside, " I think I may lay aside my scru-
ples, and I can promise you five votes."
" Brandy, what the devil are you grinning at ?" said
Burnside, interrupting John Wesley ; " better for you,
in the present pinch, to make yourself useful. Go and
secure Pendleton, if you can ; it was rather a soft job
of you to let him escape. I beg your pardon, sir," he
added, turning to Wesley—" pray proceed."
Kept " Never mind, sir," replied Brandy, " I'll engage I
the seeds make him forthcoming yet, beggin' the gintleman's par-
be not sown don for intherruptin' him. Go on, sir," said he. -'

WIND-UP OF A YANKEE BARRISTER'S ADDRESS.—
" May it please the Court, I had rather live thirteen
hundred centuries on the small end of a thunderbolt,
chew the ragged end of a flash of lightning, swallow the
corner of a Virginian thorn fence, and have my bowels
torn out by a green briar, than thus to be bamboozled by
those gentlemen.
SOWING SEEDS.-It is not sufficiently known, amongst
gardeners, that their ineffectual endeavours to raise some
plants from seeds, often arises from their being kept
through the winter, for spring sowing. If tho

)1 man

herbaceous plants Wand trees

as soon as ripe, they never vegetate. This circum-
stance is interestingly alluded to in reference to the Cly-
clamen, in Maund's Botantic Garden and Frnitist, for the
present month. It is there remarked, " Cultivators over-
look the fact, that the seed should be sown as soon as ripe ;
it never should be thoroughly dried ; the plant itself asks
fcr immediate sowing. The circling downwards of its
peduncles, with the seed vessels, after flowering, to con-
vey the seeds to the soil, should be our lesson. Here
nature suffers not the seeds to dry, by suspension in the
atmosphere ; but, by independent locomotion, the plant
nestles up its brood, and even previously to the maturity
of its offspring, conveys them in her bosom to the earth.
BENEFIT SOCIETIES.—The evils incident to Benefit
Societies as in general at present constituted, arise mainly
from ignorance. Hence it at once appears that intelli-
gence is the appropriate cure. Those great principles of
mutual assurance which science has developed and expe-
rience found safe and satisfactory, must be applied in or-
der to secure the working man from want and dependence.
The propriety of this is so obvious as to need no illustra-
tion—some however may be disposed to think that every
needful provision has been already made in Mutual As-
surance societies free from objections, if not in the Savings'

with a grin—" proceed, yer reverence.
" Well, then," proceeded the other,

" I can make out

five hone 4 votes for you. First,. myself—John Wesley
O'Rafferty, the Methodist preacher; next, myself—being
one Paddy Boulger, a farmer ; third, myself—being Mi-
chael Boulger, a brother of Paddy's, about six months in
heaven, I hope ; fourth, ditto—another brother of

that went to paradise on a French bullet from the battle
of Watherlew, now betther than a year agone ; fifth, ditto
—as an honest ' Forty' ; and, stay—l have a cousin a
sailor—l'll make it six ; and I think six votes taken out
of one man speaks strongly for Billy Burnside's wig and
a shifting countenance."
On uttering the words, he took off the wig, and, allow-
in.- his features to fall into their natural expression, he

le very

Bank; such an opinion betrays ignorance of the feelings
and wants of the people. Towards Savings' Banks many
of them entertain grave suspicions. The existence of
those suspicions we regret. We think those suspicions
unfounded. Did we hold that England was on the eve of

THE 14IURDER OF THE DUCHI
PRA SUN.

SS DE

a social convulsion : did we believe that its rulers were
aiming at an aristocratical despotism, we should have a
ground for these suspicions. As itis, the security afforded
ny Savings' Banks is among the best in the country,—
when that security fails, none will be safe, and if any are
said that the minister, by having in his pocket the peo-
,_ _ ;,, ..inving the tyrant, let them

We have already given every particular.. connec

pie's monc„
reflect that the people by withdrawing their money within
comparatively a short period, have full power to disap-
point an ambitious and paralyse a tyrannical governor.
In most transactions the creditor has power at least equal
to that of the debtor. If by the Savings' Banks the state
pledges the people to abstain from violence, the people
by the same means impose on the government the neces-
sity of ruling not without a regard to their advantage.
And the larger their deposits, the greater security is pos-
.,.

were po

siv-ely by the wor

s, they would thereby ho:

T ceasc

Bard with respect

Dther exi

existence

—founded or

and approved data of Mutual Assurance. These s
should unite in their constitution the three great elemen
of British prosperity. and strength, namely, intelligence
wealth, and popular influence.—People's Journal.
ORIGIN OF THE DON COSSACKS.—The origin of the
Cossacks is unknown, and has long been the subject of
It is generally held that peo-
)m Kassachia, mentioned by

Dther the y

teshead
s made a

that a mecha

antiquarian controverst

bserver

the pint

LI century as a Rrovi

se of rocl

bourhood of the Caucasus ; but of this Icassachia nothing
is known ; and, while the name occurs only in the ninth
century, our Cossacks did not appear for four hundred

infusion of
r, as they. are

my beloved, unless by my suspicions and my temper, anti
when did a kind word fail to soothe me ? Give not vent
to your anger—be not inexorable. My heart is breaking.
Theobald, pity ! pity ! on her who loves you! Trust
your happiness to my keeping, as I trust mine to yours.
* * * Do not break the heart that is beating only for
you. You who once loved me so much, forgive. When
you confess to me your sorrows—your head upon my
sorrows—your head upon my breast, your hands in mine,
my lips upon your forehead,—do you think that they will
not be less than if pent up in your own breast ? Do not
sacrifice our mutual happiness to an empty fear that I
will abuse your goodness; no, no, I will only share and
console you in all your sorrows. But will you be the less
a man to have a loving woman to share your pleasures
and your sorrow ? Let this union of our hearts be a
sweet mystery of love between us. Oh ! we could be so
happy if you would but try it. You would always be met
with a happy and smiling countenance, ready to follow
you wherever you liked. Perhaps, after all, you are the
more lealous of the two. God knows what suspicion you
may nourish in your breast, for I am at a loss how to in-
terpret your secret sorrows. If you knew what I suffer,
my beloved ! It is still in our power to be so happy, I
cannot think that you wish to abandon me thus for ever
to deprive us of mutual happiness—life is so short, my
beloved, and we have been separated so long ! Soon, I
shall not dare to make proposals, always refused like my
caresses. It is not your character to make the first ad-
vances, and from custom your wife will fear you too much
to make further attempts, and life will then pass by, and
you will be unhappy and your wife will die of grief. Oh,
return! return unto her!

LETTER OF THE DUCHESS OF PRASLIN FOUND IN TH

DESK 0:

THE DUKE, AT PARIS

MAY 21, 1840.—D0 not be astonished, my dear Theo-
bald, at my fear of being alone with you. We are sepa-
rated—for always—you said so ; a sad recollection will
ever be attached to yesterday.: You must have perceived
yesterday that I felt its full weight, when, in the presence
of persons who are the cause of this separation, nothing
betrayed that it had taken place. You will never have
occasion to complain of me before the world—my conduct
yesterday is proof sufficient. As long as 1 nourished
hopes of a reconciliation (and latterly I had many) I was
hovering between joy and fear, and gave way to fits of
temper ; but now that the sacrifice is done, you need not
fear. Before the children and the world, nothing will
lead to the supposition that you have destroyed my peace.
When I say you, it is not you that my heart accuses, but
to be alone with you would be too much for me. I must

weep in solitude, and endeavour to gain sufficient strength
to hide my misfortune from the world ; my illusions are

imposes upon me. My heart would overflow ; it will
need time to calm its movements—then, anon ami, instead
of avoiding you, I shall seek your presence—but at the
present moment I love you too well.
To act towards you for the _ future as I ought I must

endeavour to forget my past hopes. Time aid habit can
alone teach me to draw a line between Theobald and M.
de Praslin. If I could but think that you would be happy
at the price of all my sufferings, present and to come, it
would be a consolation to me. Farewell ! what pain is in
that word, pain that 1 never dreamt of before. Fare-
well ! And yet you loved me ! We will meet in heaven ;
may the thought sometimes cross your mind, that I still
love you!

EXTRACTS FROM A DIARY FOUND IN THE CHAMBER

OF THE DOMES

" April 23, 1842.—A1l is finished. We have quarrelled
beyond recall. Oh, he is more than harsh, he is cruel
towards me. How could he acquire this excess of aver-
sion for me whose love he knows to be so pure, so tender,
so devoted ? What infamous influences have been at
work upon his heart, once so good, so affectionate, so
just ? He excuses himself doubtless by telling himself
that my character has become hateful and intractable.
But whose is the fault ? Has he not disordered all my
sentiments, all my principles—does he not seize every oc-
casion to hurt and wound me ?
The chamber I live in kills me with its bitter recollec-
tions. The sight of the staircase which I mounted on
the day of marriage so full of joy, of love, of hopes so
trusting—all this part of the chateau which I inhabited
when you loved me, when you never left me, all this
makes me mad. I know not what Ido or say, so ill have
you treated me since you have come into possession of
your magnificent chateau. Your first word was to tell
me that I was not to think myself at home. It is true
you made me fine promises for the future : but how have
you kept them ? It seems that since you have been Duke
de Praslin, and possessor of the chateau, I am no longer
worthy of being your wife. Since you have wished for
no more children you have believed yourself freed from
all sentiments of affection, from all consideration, from
all regard. Was I then only a machine ? But I—l had
placed all my heart, all my hope, all my happiness in our
union. It was the history of my life. Far from dreading
age, like so many women, I rejoiced in the anticipation of
the happiness we should have together, as having loved one
another so long—in talking over our old recollections—in
living again in our children—in quitting together this
world for a better. Alas ! why are you no longer reli-
gious ? My fears would not have arisen, if you had not

excited them. 1. no longer see you 11.111.. Ult: LIJ
auy re-
straint of religion. For a long time you have adopted
the appearance of the most disordered life, you effect the
greatest levity of manner, the greatest contempt for the
bienseances. I have seen you depart from the truth so
far as to say that you have done one thing when you have
done another. Alas ! what can I judge from except ap-
pearances since you will not allow me to know the reality ?
nh r 111r1rP unfortunate than blameable. If you did

if you loved me, i

iuld have

Sept. 1,

more eager to seize every opportuhity of being of service
to you, and that I shall be thankful to you if you will
point out the means. I heard that yott intended paying
Lady Hislop a visit, in which case I. will give you a letter
to Lady Tankerville, who I am sure will do all that is in
her power to second Lady Hislop's endeavours for your
welfare. if you would like to have letters to Madame de
Flahault and Miss Elphinstone, I shall be most happy to
write them. I remember that on arriving ut Praslin you
asked me to lend you a book ; I hope you will not refuse
to accept this little souvenir, which I have great pleasure
in sending you. I can only repeat, Mademoiselle, that
I shall seize every occasion to be of service to you.—S.
Praslin."

been required to excite jealousy in one the least suscep-
tible of it ? •By my God, how superstitious does grief
make one ! So I am ashamed of it. On Sunday, the
day of your arrival, on rising I perceived an enormous

This trigh

plore your manner to m
~,,i,l ~,,1 ili.aninfril_ In

WILLS OF THE DIIF

ND DITCHES

" Two wills of the Duchess de Praslin have
been deposited in the hands of the President of the
Civil Tribunal of the Seine. One of these is dated
in 1841, and the other in 1846. In t
speaks of her husband in the most affe
the second she does not, as has been erroneous
give a life interest to the duke in all her in
queaths to him a part of her personal I
interest in one of her landed estat,

every day it becomes more
s moment, while writing, I

turn my eyes and see a little spider. My tears stop. I
feel an emotion of joy, as if a hope came to me. How
weak is the spirit of man ! Nevertheless, it is in thee,
my God, my heart has placed all its hopes. But it is
possible that sometimes thou sendest visible signs of the
will. Oh, save him, and if it be possible, restore him to
„•

first the duchess

late terms
1, .1

stated,
ty, but be-
perty, and a life

In this last will is a
curious clause, by which she leaves her jewels to one of
her sons, with directions that they shall be sold, and the
produce invested in government funds. The dividends of
the stock thus purchased are to be invested to accumulate
till the time when this son shall be about 'to be married,
when the whole fund thus augmented is to be laid out in
the purchase of diamonds for his bride. On Saturday
morning the will of the Duke de Praslin was also deposited
in the hands of the President of the Civil Tribunal. This
will was in the portfolio of the duke, who, just before his
death, took care to indicate tnat circumstance. Imme-
diately after the decease of the prisoner, the portfolio was
opened, and two wills were found, bearing date 1841 and
1843. The first is not signed, but the second, which is
the exact reproduction of it, is perfectly regular. In the
testamentary act of 1843, the Duke de Praslin, after
several liberalities made to his different children, leaves
par precipnt the chateau of Praslin de Vaux to his eldest
son. In a particular clause he engages his sons not to
contract marriage before having attained their twenty-fifth
year. There is also in the testament of 1843 a legacy, by
which the duke secures a rente of 3,000 fr. to 111dlle. de
Lu zy-Desportes, in acknowledgement of the enlightened
zeal which she had shown in the education of his
daughters."

The subsequent examination:of Madlle. de Luzy tends to
show that the duchess was of a quick, jealous, irritable,

Madlle. de Luzy showe
son of very high ability

Le is a per-

.ra love for
she spoke

duclie'ss, the interrogator took occasion frequently to ac-
cuse her of throwing unnecessary blame on that most un-
fortunate lady :
" In every answer you give you insinuate something
wrong against Madame de Praslin ?" (Weeping.) " I
.

wish '
most sincerely I had not to say what I -do.— She is
dead, and I only wish I could bring her back to life, not
by merely giving mine for hers, but, in addition, by suf-
fering the most horrible tortures. Who beheld as I did
for six years every fold of her mind, every change of her
existence ? Who knows as Ido that extraordinary and
incomprehensible versatility which caused Madame de
Praslin to pass from anger to mirth, from disdain to mild-
ness, from irony to kindness ? I feel that, except before
you, I would not have uttered a word except of respect,
veneration, and regret. Oh ! Ido not defend myself. I
only endeavour to enlighten what is dark."
" Did you ever hear anything from M. de Praslin to lead
you to suppose that he was likely to have recourse to ex-
tremities ?—I swear by all that is most sacred never.
often heard Madame de Praslin threaten to kill herself-
Once at Vaudreuil she wanted to stab herself, and M. de
Praslin, in disarming her, wounded himself in the liana.
Another time at Dieppe, after an altercation with her
husband, she rushed into the street, threatening to fling
herself into the sea; but some hours after, by that strange
inconsistency of character of which I have already spoken,
she was found by M. de Praslin in a shop, making pur-
chases, and quite calm. On many and many an occasion
M. de Praslin was calm, unmoved, and full of mildness."
" Was not the demonstration of these extremities to
which Madame de Pritslin was tempted to have recourse,
a proof to you of the profound afflictions which she must
have felt ? If you liked, you could certainly state to us
how great a part you had borne in producing in her such
a state of mind. How heavy ought not such a conviction
to be to you at present ?—The first demonstration of Ma-
dame de Praslin was anterior to the time of my entering
the family ; M. de Praslin had mentioned it to me as an
intimation of the great consideration and attention that it
was necessary to evince towards her; the others were fol-
lowed by so much calm and sometimes high spirits in a

short time, and indeed often immediately after, that 1 re-
garded them rather as the effervescence of an excited im-
agination than as the result of a real evil."
The Presse gives the following particulars relating to
this unfortunate young lady :—" Mad'lle de Luzy was a
resident in the school of the Marais for only a month.
She had been introduced there in the name of the duke
and duchess, and was accompanied on her first visit bi
one of the demoiselles de Praslin. When she took up her
residence there, her pupils, in bringing her a superb cop)"
_e al_,. 4 Tomenenavorl hv 4110 diirhe3s

()LUAU 1.1111..L1V 11 wa • I COLLO •-•111a0l, wank. ukkr,
herself, as a testimony of gratitude, came and aideq'
effecting her removal and settling her chamber, besides
frequently since renewing their visits. Mad'lle de LOT'
who was altogether a stranger to the institutions
,1-,°p
remain charged with the direction of the studies of t"-
demoiselles de Praslin; and the duchess, in dismissing
her,gave no other motive for her sending her sway than
the too lively affection which the Aildren felt for their

stood before Burnside as Pendleton himself-
man with whom he had held a long conversation about a me. L.rant Loab ..... ......,
couple of hours before. him, and that they may touch his heart.
' Confound you, for a scoundrel," said Burnside, IMPRESSIONS.
laughing ;" I think you must be the devil himself, since Document found at Paris, in the Duche s secretaire,
you have imposed on me ; a circumstance which I deemed iri a sealed envelope, entitled ' ~.
to be impossible. However, I suppose it was the wig did " 13th July, 1847.—1 t is long since i nave written any-
it. Multiply yourself now into fifty, if you can ; only be thing, and nevertheless nothing has changed in the in-
if and vote. The Personation Committee will provide terval. She will leave, they say, when we go to Proslin ;
.• • -4. 7? and in the meantime the empire she holds is most ai--

some c

stay of the fan-lily in the

hich sl

Sladem-

•
murder, during tho

a comml

.Aon to purchase for the Children some bathing clothes,
which they were to take on their way through Paris. 10
his visit the evening before the crime, M. de Praslin ac-
companied four of his children, who brought from the
country to Mad'lle Luzy a basket of fruit and flowers. It
He was

was the first time that he visited the institution,
received by Mad'lle Luzy in the parlour, the
of the house forbidding the visit to be otherwise

regulations

~. The
mistress of the school ipoke apart to the duke of certain
rumours which had reached her relative to Mad'lle de Pizl',
and expressed her surprise at these reports, which con-
trusted so strongly with the lively friendship which the
duchess authorized between her children and their former
ruarmittPrl +hex. litaioa 111 romp. with

dared to him her intention to write to the duchess her-
self, to demand a letter in refutation of these reports. The
duke approved of the design. The letter was written joy
impressions mediately, but had not time to reach the duchess. it hag
" 13th ce I has been delivered up by the mistress to the Procureur du Rio.'
thing, r s chan The Moniteur of Thursday contains a new and most,
terve) hen vv, important article on the subject, being the confession 0;
and a hol ---u- the wretched murderer made to the Duke Decazes' Gran'
11- tains inem all as in a Referendery of the Chamber of Peers, and which he (the
. What a future he Duke Decazes) communicated to the Court of Peers oil
is preparing for himself ! If he allows himself to be their next sitting of the 30th ult. The document filth'
thus domineered over and brow-beaten by intriguantes at absolves the government and the authorities of all know"
ced with forty-two, what will he be when he grows old ! And yet, ledge of, and instrumentality in, the deathtlotfehtehier assassin.
how I love him ! lie must have
with
Stilltsiei
search
irticerheemisvi
person
Iparnonevewe dzeetnrhefia that
sattl hpeabil inferior
negligente
committedrio officers.ieay i
ocemhnaictretgi c al
this melancholy tragedy, whim 0u,,,, _ :ead with
painful interest. From the official report -of the Proces 12y alla thesf3adwirainsas:
pfioreraoree
mseeei g
this love so imn:asw:
with.ccitahreem, an:::.
Verbaux, we select the most interesting portion of the explainsinned.
He is no longer the same man ; how dull is his tthheeirvnaelegtligdeenceerisiinfburrtehwerheostreatisohnesdtrbaTed
correspondence of the unfortunate Duchess, which has
spirit—how narrowed his heart—how much has he grown
seen on more than one occasion alluded to in the details
suspicious, ennuied, and irritable. Nothing animates their inattention to the movements of his master. These
of this distressing case. him. Nothing interests him, nothing exalts bm. No officers allege in their defence, that: we understand, '-
obliged the Duke (Praslin) t
...... CITA THE DUCHESS TO
.11ER HUSBAND.
generous, impassioned, or enthusiastic
.sentiment seems
foc,

Father anc
-w

either for 1

Ldren, she ref
life he leads !

untry or for his children

Truly I believe that h

D. (whom he has not loved

My God ! what an exi

ice ! What

)ught him so different, Oh, he

supposed

COURT IN SCOTLAND

Loch I

d always been so: I_ could nev

heart, in I

pies of moral

i .
mind, have caused him to
And with all this he wishes
How completely has he 2 isol

Prince Albert, the Prim

f Wal'

roman:

have loved him if h

adjoining.

;ion, an
imb to

its return to the metropo.
On Friday, the Earl of

her Majesty
royal party 1

one real,
those which have sprung from his pleasures, and which
have become claims from his weakness when he wished
to detach himself from them. How frightful it is ! He
drags after him, the exigencies of women with whom he
has been connected. And yet how bizarre are men ! He
las always sacrificed, oppressed, wounded, humiliated,
" ft did

rious friend

He has no connection

On Satur

ill-treat(
not love

zs:t the

1.11 MM. cif
ed on a visit w
additions toEtarbei

•
;orn and the
ajesty, and Pilo&
hold, attended the

of Aberdeen. On Sunday, her
Albert, together with the royal hous,_
performance of divine worship at Ardveril
On Monday Prince Albert, accompa
-an, the Duke of Norfolk, and Mr_ Ans,
Ider, on a deer-stalking excursion.
4' this mountain is famous for the num

on the sii

Tied by Prince Lei
went oil.
The fore

anti excellence Os sne ueer, auu -
markable as having been the hiding-place of Charles in,
ward, after the battle of Culloden. The retreat on-- 13ed
Alder is thus described by Home ." It was situatedli