The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-11-16 00:00:00

(Continued from the Standard of Tuesday last.)

I awaited the arrival of my uncle, which was every mo-
meut to be expected, with feelings half of alarm, half of
curiosity—a sensation which I have often since experienced,
though to a less degree, when upon the point of standing fur
the first time in the presence of one of whom I have long
been in the habit of hearing or thinking of with interest. It
was, therefore, with some little perturbation that I heard,
first a slight bustle at the outer door,then a slow step traverse
the hall, and finally witnessed the door open, and my uncle
enter the room. He was a striking looking man—from pecu-
liarities both of person and of garb, the whole effect of his
appearance amounted to extreme singularity. He was tall,
and when young his figure must have been strikingly elegant;
as it was, however, its effect was marred by a very-decided
stoop; his dress was of a sober colour, and in fashion ante-
rior to any thing which I could remember. It was, however,
handsome, and by no means carelessly put on; but what
completed the singularity of his appearance was his uncut,
white hair, which hung in long, but not at all neglected curls,
even so far as his shoulders, and which combined, with his re-
gularly classic features' and fine dark eyes, to bestow upon
him an air of venerable dignity and pride which I have never
seen equalled elsewhere. I rose as he entered, and met him
about the middle of the room; he kissed my cheek and both
my hands, saying—
" You are most welcome, dear child, as welcome as the
command of this poor place and all that it contains can
make you. lam most rejoiced to see you—truly rejoiced.
trust that you are nut much fatigued--pray be seated again."
lie led me to my chair, and continued, " I am glad to per-
ceive you have made acquaintance with Emily already ; I
see, in your being thus brought together, the Inundation of a
lasting friendship. You are both innocent, and both young.
God bless you—God bless you, and make you all that I could
wish."

He raised his eves, and remained for a few moments silent,
as if in secret pra)er. I felt that it was impossible that this
man, with feelings so quick, so warm, so tender, could be the
wretch that public'opinion had represented him to be. I was
more than ever convinced of his innocence. His manner
was, or appeared to me, most fascinating—there was a
mingled kindness and courtesy in it which seemed to speak
benevolence itself—it was a manner which I felt cold art
could never have taught—it owed most of its charm to its ap-
pearing to emanate directly from the heart—it must be a
genuine index of the owner's mind—so I thought. My
uncle having given me fully to understand that I was most
welcome, and might command whatever was his own, pressed
me to take some refreshment ; and on my refusing, he ob-
served that previously to bidding we good night, he had
sonic duty further to perform, one in whose observance he
was convinced 1 would cheerfully acquiesce. He then pro-
ceeded to read a chapter from the Bible; after which he took
his leave with the same affectionate kindness with which he
had greeted rne, having repeated his desire that I should con-
sider every thing in his house as altogether at my disposal.
It is needless to say that I was much pleased with my uncle
—it was impossible to avoid being so; and 1 could not help
saying to myself, if such a man as this is not safe from the
assaults of slander, who is? I felt much happier than I had
done since my father's death, and enjoyed that night the
first refreshing sleep which had visited me since that event.
My curiosity respecting my wale cousin did not long remain
unsatisfied—he appeared upon the next day at dinner. His
manners, though not so coarse as I had expected, were ex-
ceedingly disagreeable; there was an assurance and a for-
wardness for which I was not prepared : there was less ofthe
vulgarity of manner, and almost more of that of the mind,
than I had anticipated. I felt quite uncomfortable in his
presence; there wasjust that confidence in his look and tone,
which would read encouragement even in mere toleration :
and I felt more disgusted and annoyed at the coarse and ex-
travagant compliments which he was pleased from time to
time to pay me, than perhaps the extent of the atrocity might
fully have warranted. It was, however, one consolation that
he did not often appear, being much engrossed by pursuits
about which I neither knew nor cared any thing; but when
he did appear, his attention, either with a view to his amuse-
ment, or to some more serious advantage, were so obviously
and perseveringly directed to me, that young and inexperi-
enced as I was, even / could not be ignorant of his pre-
ference. I felt more provoked by this odious persecution
than I ca❑ express, and discouraged him with so much vigour,
that I employed even rudeness to convince him that his
assiduities were unwelcome—but all in vain. _ .

This had gone on for nearly a twelvemonth, to my infinite
annoyance, when one day, as I was sitting at some needle-
work with my companion Emily, as was my habit, in the par-
lour, the door opened, and my cousin Edward entered the
room. There was something, I thought, odd in his manner—
a kind of struggle between shame and impudence—a kind of
flurry and ambiguity, which made him appear, if possible,
more than ordinarily disagreeable.
Your servant, ladies," he said, seating himself at the
same time; " sorry to spoil your tete-a-tete; but never mind,
I'll only take Emily's place for a minute or two, and then we
part for a chile, fair cousin. Emily, my father wants you in
the corner turret—no shills shally, he's in a hurry." She
hesitated : " be off—tramp, march," he exclaimed, in a tone
which the poor girl dared not disobey.
She left the room, and Edward followed her to the door.
He stood there for a minute or two, as if reflecting what he
should say, perhaps satisfying himself that no one was within
hearing in the hall. At length he turned about, having closed
the door as if carelessly with his foot, and advancing slowly,
as if in deep thought. he took his seat at the side of the table
opposite to mine. There was a brief interval of silence, after
which he said—

" I imagine you have a shrewd suspicion of the object o
my early visit; but I suppose I must go into particulars.
Must I ?"

"I have no conception," I replied, " what your object may

" Well, well," said he, becoming more at his ease as he
proceeded, "it may be told in a few words. You know that
it is totally impossible, quite.out of the question, that an off-
hand young fellow like me, and a good-looking girl like
yourself, could meet continually, as yuu and I have done,
without an attachment—a liking growing up on one side or
other;—in short, I think I have let you know as plain as if 1
spoke it, that I have been in love with you, almost from the
first time I saw you.' He paused; but I was too much hor-
rified to speak. He interpreted my silence favourably. " 1
can tell you," he continued, " I'm reckoned rather hard to
please, and very hard to hit. I can't say when I was taken
with a girl before; so you see fortune reserved me —"
Here the odious wretch wound his arm round my waist.
The action at once restored me to utterance, and with the
most indignant vehemence I released myself from his hold,
and at the same time said—

" I have not, been insensible, sir, of your most disagree-
able attentions. They have long been a source of much an-
noyance to me; and you must be aware that I have marked
my disapprobation, my disgust, as unequivocally as I possi-
bly could, without actual indelicacy."
I paused, almost out of breath from the rapidity with which
I had spoken ; and without giving him time to renew the
conversation, I hastily quitted the room, leaving him in a
paroxysm of rage and mortification. As I ascended the stairs,
I heard him open the parlour door with violence, and take
two or three rapid strides in the direction in which I was
moving. I was now much frightened, and ran the whole
way until I reached my room, and having locked the door, I
listened breathlessly, but heard no sound. This relieved me
for the present ; but so much had I been overcome by the
agitation and annoyance attendant upon the scene which I
had just gone through, that when my cousin Emily knocked
at my door, I was weeping in strong hysterics. You will
readily conceive my distress, when you reflect upon my strong
dislike to my cousin Edward, combined with my youth and
extreme inexperience; any proposal of such a nature must
have agitated me—but that it should have come from the
man whom of all others I most loathed anti abhorred, and to
whom I had, as clearly as wanner could do it, expressed the
state of my feelings, was almost too overwhelming to be
bore ; it was a calamity, too,lin which I could not claim the
sympathy of my cousin Emily, which had always been ex-
tended to me in my minor grievances. Still I hoped that it
might not be unattended with good, for I thought that one
inevitable and most welcome consequence would result from
this painful eclaircissement, in the discontinuance of my cou-
sin's odious persecution.
When I arose next morning, it was with the fervent hope
that I might never again behold the face, or even hear the
name of my cousin Edward; but such a consummation,
though devoutly to -be wished, was hardly likely to occur.
The painful impressions of yesterday were too vivid to be at
once erased; and I could not help feeling some dim fore-
boding of coming annoyance and evil. To expect on my
cousin's part anything like delicacy or consideration for me,
was out of the question. I saw't hat he had set his heart upon
my property, and that he was not likely easily to forego such
an acquisition—possessing what might have been considered
opportunities and facilities almost to compel my compliance.
I. now keenly felt the unreasonableness of my father's con-
duct in placing me to reside with a family of all whose mem-
bers, with one exception, he was wholly ignorant, and I
hilted:• felt the belplessness of my situation. I determined,
however, in the case of my cousin's persevering in his ad-
dresses, to lay all the particulars before my uncle, although
he had never in kindness or intimacy gone a step beyond
our first interview, and to throw myself upon his hospitality
and his sense of honour for protection against a repetition of
such scenes. My cousin's conduct may appear to have been
an inadequate cause fur such serious uneasiness; but my
alarm was caused neither by his acts nor his words, but en-
tirely his manner, which was strange and even intimidating to
excess. At the beginning of the yesterday's interview,
there was a sort of bullying swagger in his air which towards
the end gave place to the brutal vehemence of an undisguised
ruffian—a transition which had tempted me into a belief that
he might seek even forcibly to extort from me a consent to
his wishes, or by means still more horrible, of which I scarcely
dared to trust myself to think, to possess himself of my
property.
I was early next day summoned to attend my uncle in his
private room, which lay in a corner turret of the old building,
and thither I accordingly went, wondering all the way what
this unusual measure Might prelude. When I entered the
room, he did not rise in his usual courteous way to greet me,
but simply pointed to a chair opposite to his own—this boded
nothing agreeable. I sat down, however, silently waiting till
he should open the conversation.
" Lady Margaret," at length he said, in a tone of greater
sternness than I thought him capable of using, " I have hi-
therto spoken to you as a friend, but I have not forgotten
that I am also your guardian, and that my authority as such
gives me a right to control your conduct. I shall put a
question to you, and I expect and will demand a plain, direct
answer. Have I rightly been informed that you have con-
temptuously rejected the suit and hand of my son Edward ?"
I stammered I'm th, with a good deal of trepidation—
' " I believe—that is, I have, Sir, rejected my cousin's pro-
posals; and my coldness and discouragement might have
convinced hiin that I had determined to do so."

" Madam," replied he, with suppressed, but, as it appeared
to me, intense anger, " I have lived long enough to know
that coldness and discouragement, and such terms, form the
common cant of a worthless coquette. You know to the full,
as well as I, that coldness and discouragement may he so ex-
•hibited as to convince their object that he is neither distaste-
ful or indifferent to the person who wears this manner. You
know, too, none better, that an affected neglect, when skil-
fully managed, is amongst the most formidable of the en-
gines which artful beauty can employ. I tell you, madam,
that having, without one word spoken in discouragement,
permitted my son's most marked attentions fora twelvemonth
or more, you have no right to dismiss him with no further
explanation than demurely telling him that you had always
looked coldly upon him, and neither your wealth nor your
ladyship (there was an emphasis of scorn on the word, which
would have become Sir Giles Overreach himself) can war-
rant you in treating with contempt the affectionate regard of
an honest heart."_

I was too much shocked at this undisguised attempt to
bully me into an acquiescence in the interested and unprin-
cipled plan for their own aggrandisement, which I now per-
ceived my uncle and his so❑ to have deliberately entered into,
at once to find strength or collectedness to frame an answer
to what he had said. At length I replied with some firmness—

" In all that you have just now said, Sir, you•have grossly
misstated my conduct and motives—your information must
have been incorrect, as far as it regards my conduct towards
my cousin ; my manner towards him could have conveyed
nothing but dislike; and it' any thing could have added to
the strong aversion which I have long felt towards him, it
would be his attempting thus to trick and frighten me into a
marriage which he knows to be revolting to me, and which
is sought by him only as,a means for securing to himself
whatever property is mine.
As I said this, I fixed my eyes anon those of my uncle, but
he was too old in those of the world's ways to faulter beneath
the gaze of more searching eyes than mine; he simply said—
" Are you acquainted with the provisions of your father's
will?"
I answered in the affirmative; and he continned—" Then
you must be aware that if my son Edward were, which God

forbid, the unprincipled, reckless man, you pretend to think
him"—(here he spoke very slowly, as if he intended that
every word that escaped him should be registered in my me-
mory, while at the same time the expression of his counte-
nance underwent a gradual and horrible change, and the
eyes which he fixed upon me became so darkly vivid, that I
almost lost sight of every thing else)— if he were what you
have described him, think you, girl, he could find ❑o briefer
means than wedding contracts to gain his twas but to
gripe your slender neck until the breath had stopped, and
lands, and lakes, and all were his."
I stood staring at him for many minutes after he had ceased
to speak, fascinated by the terrible, serpent-like gaze, until
he continued with a welcome change of countenance—
" I will not speak again to you, upon this topic, until one
month has passed. You shall have time to consider the re-
lative advantages of the two courses which are open to you.
I should be sorry to hurry you to a decision. lam satisfied
with having stated my feelings upon the subject, and pointed
out to yuu_the path of duty. Remember this day month—"
He then rose, and I left the room, much agitated and ex-
hausted.

This interview, all the circumstances attending it, but most
particularly the formidable expression of my uncle's counte-
nance while he talked, though hypothetically, of murder,
combined to arouse all my worst suspicions of him. I dreaded
to look upon the face that had so recently worn the appalling
livery of guilt and malignity. I regarded it with the mingled
fear and loathing with which one looks upon an object which
has tortured them in a night-mare.
In a few days after the interview, the particulars of which
have just detailed, I found a note upon my toilet-table, and
on opening it I lead as follows—
"My dear Lady Margaret,—You will be, perhaps, stir-
prised to see a strange face in your room to-day. I have dis-
missed your Irish maid, and secured a French one to wait
upon you—a step rendered necessary by my proposing shortly
to visit the Continent, with all my family. Your faithful
guardian, Arthur T—n."
On inquiry, I found that my faithful attendant was actually
gone, and far on her way to the town of Galway; and in her
stead there appeared a tall, raw-boned, ill-looking, elderly
Frenchwoman, whose sullen and presuming manaers seemed
to imply that her vocation had never before been that of a
lady's-maid. 1 could not help regarding her as a creature of
my uncle's, and therefore to be dreaded, even had she been
in no other way suspicious.
Days and weeks passed away, without any, even a momen-
tary doubt upon my part, as to the course to be pursued by
me. The allotted period had at length elapsed ; the day ar-
rived upon which I was to communicate my decision to my
uncle. Although my resolution had never for a moment wa-
vered, I could not shuke off the dread of the approaching col-
loquy; and my heart sunk within me as I heard the expected
summons. I had not seen my cousin Edward since the oc-
currence of the grand eclaircissement ; he must have studi-
ously avoided inc-1 suppose from policy, it could not have
been from delicacy. I was prepared for a terrific burst of
fury from my uncle, as soon as I should make known my de-
termination; and I not unreasonably feared that souse act of
violence or of intimidation would next be resorted to. Filled
with these dreary forebodings, I fearfully opened the study
door, and the next minute I stood in my uncle's presence. He
received me with a politeness which I dreaded, as arguiug
favorable anticipation respecting the answer which I was to
give; and after some slight delay, he began by saying—
"lt will be a relief to both of us, I believe, to bring this
conversation as soon as possible to an issue. You will excuse
me, then, my dear niece, for speaking with an abruptness
which, under other circumstances, would be unpardonable.
You have, I am certain, given the subject of our last inter-
view fair and serious consideration ; and I trust that you are
now prepared with candour to lay your answer before me. A
few words will suffice—we perfectly understand one another."
He paused ; and 1, though feeling that I stood upon a mine
which might in an instant explode, nevertheless answered with
perfect composure, "I must now, Sir, make the same reply
which I did upon the last occasion, and I reiterate the declar-
ation which I then made, that I never can nor will, while life
or reason remain, consent to an union with my cousin Edward.
This announcement wrought no apparent change in Sir
Arthur, except that he became deadly, almost lividly pale.
He seemed lost in dark thought for a minute, and then with a
slight effort said, " You have answered me honestly and di-
rectly; and you say your resolution is unchangeable; well,
would it had been otherwise—but be it as it is—l am satisfied."
He gave me his hand—it was cold and damp as death ; un-
der an assumed calmness, it was evident that he was fearfully
agitated. He continued to hold my hand with an almost
painful pressure, while, as if unconsciously, seeming to forgot
my presence, he muttered, "strange, strange, strange, indeed !
fatuity, helpless fatuity !" There was here a long pause. "Mad-
ness indeed to strain a cable that is rotten to the very heart—
it must break—and then—all goes." There was again a pause
of some minutes, after which, suddenly changing his voice
and manner to one of wakeful alacrity, he exclaimed, " Mar-
garet, my son Edward shall plague you no more. He leaves
this country on to-morrow for France—he shall speak no
more upon this subject—never, never more—whatever events
depended upon your answer must now take their own course;
but as for this fruitless proposal, it has been tried enough; it
can be repeated no more." At these words he coldly suffered
my hand to drop, as if to express his total abandoninent of all
his projected schemes of alliance; and certainly the action,
with the accompanying words, produced upon my mind a
more solemn and depressing effect than I believed possible to
have been caused by the course which I had determined to
pursue; it struck upon my heart with an awe and heaviness
which will accompany the accomplishment of an important
and irrevocable act, even though no doubt or scruple remains
to make it possible that the agent should wish it undone.
" Well," said my uncle, after a little time, "we now cease
to speak upon this topic, never to resume it again—remember
you shall have no farther uneasiness from Edward ; he leaves
Ireland for France on to-morrow; this will be a relief to you;
may I depend upon your honor that no word touching the
subject of this interview shall ever escape you ?" I gave him
the desired assurance; he said, "it is well—l am satisfied—
we have nothing inure, I believe, to say upon either side, and
my presence must he a restraint upon you; I shall therefore
bid you farewell." I then left the apartment, scarcely know-
ing what to think of the strange interview which had just
taken place.
On the next day my uncle took occasion to tell me that
Edward had actually sailed, if his intention had not been in-
terfered with by adverse circumstances; and two days subse-
quently he actually produced a letter from his son, written, as
it said, on board, and despatched while the ship was getting
ender weigh. This was a great satisfaction to me, and as
being likely to prove so, it was no doubt communicated to me
by Sir Arthur. During all this trying period, I had found
infinite consolation in the society and sympathy of my dear
cousin Emily. I never in after-life formed a friendship so
close, so fervent, and upon which, in all its progress, I could
look back with feelings of such unalloyed pleasure, upon whose
termination I must ever dwell with so deep, so yet unembit-
tered regret. In cheerful converse with her I soon recovered
my spirits considerably, and passed my time agreeably enough,
although still in the utmost seclusion. Matters went on
smoothly enough, although I could not help sometimes feeling
a momentary, but horrible uncertainty respecting my uncle's
character, which was not altogether unwarranted by the cir-
cumstances of the two trying interviews whose particulars I
have just detailed. The unpleasant impression which these
conferences were calculated to leave upon my mind, was fast
wearing away, when there occurred a circumstance, slight
indeed in itself, but calculated irresistibly to awaken all my
worst suspicions, and to overwhelm me again with anxiety
and terror.
I had one day left the home with my cousin Emily, in order
to take a ramble of considerable length, for the purpose of
sketching some favorite views, and we had walked about half
a mile when I perceived that we had forgotten our drawing
materials, the absence of which would have defeated the object
of our walk. Laughing at our own thoughtlessness, we retur-
ned to the house, and leaving Emily without, I ran up stairs
to procure the drawing•books and pencils which lay in my bed-
room. As I ran up the stairs, I was met by the tall, ill-look-
ing French woman, evidently a good deal flurried; " Que
veut, Madame ?" said she, with a more decided effort to be
polite than I had ever known her make before. " No, no—
no matter," said I, hastily running by her in the direction of
my room. " Madame," cried she, in a high key: " restez ici
si vous plait, votre chambre n'est pas faite"—your room is
not reedy for your reception yet. I continued to move on
without heeding her. She was some way behind use, and
feeling that she could not otherwise prevent my entrance, for
I was now upon the very lobby, she made a desperate attempt
to seize hold of my person ; she succeeded in grasping the end
of my shawl, which she drew from my shoulders, but slipping
at the same time upon the polished oak floor, she fell at full
length upon the hoards. A little frightened as well as angry
at the rudeness of this strange woman, I hastily pushed open
the door of my room, at which I now stood, in order to escape
from her; but great was my amazement on entering to find
the apartment pre-occupied. The window was open, and
beside it stood two male figures; they appeared to be examin-
ing the fastenings of the casement, and their backs were
turned towards the door. One of them was my uncle ; they
both had turned on my entrance, as if startled; the stranger
was booted and cloaked, and wore a heavy broadsleafed hat
over his brows;_ he turned but for a moment, and averted his
face ; but I had seen enough to convince me that he was no
ei said something as if in an
other than my cousin Edward. My uncle had some iron hi-
strurnent in his hand, which he hastily concealed behind his
back;
a nd co
explanatory
con-
founded to understand what it might be. He said something
tone;ming but towardsl was me, said
much shocked and
about "repairs—window-frames—cold and safety." I did
not wait, however, to ask or receive explanations, but hastily
left the room. As I went down the stairs, I thought I beard
the voice of the French woman in all the shrill volubility of
excuse, which was met, however, by suppressed but vehe-
ment imprecations, or what seemed to me to be such, in
which the voice of my cousin Edward distinctly mingled.
I joined my cousin Emily quite out of breath. I need not
say that mylhead was too full of other things to think much
of drawing for that day. I imparted to her frankly the cause
of my alarms, but at the same time, as gently as I could; and
with tears she promised vigilance, and devotion, and love. I
never had reason for a moment to repent the unreserved con-
fidence which I then reposed in her. She was no less sur-
prised than I, at the unexpected appearance of Edward,
whose departure for France neither of us had for a moment
doubted, but which was now proved by his actual presence to
be nothing more than an imposture practised, I feared, for
no good end. The situation in which I had found my uncle
had removed completely all my doubts as to his designs, I
magnified suspicious into certainties, and dreaded night after
night that I should be murdered in my bed.
(To be concluded on Tuesday.)

ROMAN CLOCKS.—ID the year 402 of the town, no other
means were known for facilitating in some degree the calcu-
lation of the time to the Romans, than to set up a pole to
mark the shorter shadow, consequently the hour of noon
only. Of the sun-dial, properly so called, no one, as yet,
had any idea. In Sicily, splendid sun-dials were discovered,
of which one was brought from Catana to Rome, and set up
without its occurring to any one to adapt its position to the
meridian of Rome. It was soon discovered that nothing
ceuld be done at Rome with a clock that had done extremely
well at Catana; and the censor, Quninctus Marcius Phil-
lippus, had another set up. 'lbis however, proved as useless
as the first. But that a method of reckoning time might not
be altogether wanting, the renowned water-clock of Scipio
was set up in lieu of the sun-dial, towards the close of the
following century, as the suitable arrangement of sun-dials
was despaired of. In later times Rome was ampl! provided
with sun-dials.
VIRTUES OF BREVITY.—Without pretending to speak
definitively to this point, then, we may observe, that the " ex-
treme doctrine of silence," as we admitted in our former
paper, is not capable of being put into practice in the present
state of society. We are not ripe for it. We cannot yet
communicate in pantomime like the 'l'arquins, or understand
one another in allegory like Scvlurus and his eighty sons. A
word or two, now and then, we fear, is a necessity of our con-
dition, and must remain so until "a perfect system of signals,"
as our nautical men designate the great object of their ambi-
tion, shall be devised, ;ir the genius of Pariurge descend
amongst us and expound his mystic science to this ignorant
age. But brevity is practicable under ail circumstances, and
" needs no ghost, my lords;" and it is to be insisted upon by
all lawful means. Plutarch draws some excellent distinctions
on the subject of quantity in discourse. He says, there are
three ways in answering a question: I. The all that is neces-
sary way. 2. The civil way. 3. The superfluous way.—
And these he illustrates in the following manner: Suppose
that somebody asks, "Is Socrates at home?" Frst way.—
" No!" Second way.—" Why, no; he is at dinner." (Or,
if particularly disposed to be civil, then with the addition,
" entertaining some guests.") Third, or superfluous way—
" He is not at home, but he is at dinner with some lonian
gentlemen, who have come with an introduction to him from
Alcibiades, who is living at Miletus with Tisaphernes, the
satrap of the King of Persia, who was formerly in alliance
with the Lacedmmonians, but now with the Athenians, since
Alcibiades, for the sake of facilitating a return to his country,
has reconciled the monarch to his countrymen." And this
speaker, continues Plutarch, will probably not stop here, but
proceed to take
.down Thucydides's history, reciting to you
the whole of the eighth book, again taking Miletub, and again
driving Alcibiades into banisbuient.—Montkly Chronicle.

LA'I'ES'I' DATES AT LIVERPOOL.
Direct. Indirect. Ergm Direct. hutiraci.
Calcntta
Bombay . ...., Sept... 12 MaranhamlSept. .. 7
. Mauritius .
Lima
St. Helena.
Rio.
Bahia .... Sept. 23
PREMIUMS OF INSURANCE AT LLOYD'S.
LONDON 82 LIVERPOOL, Outward. Home.
(Sailing before 12th Jan.)
to• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Jamaica ..
Leeward Isl. Deme. & Berbiee 2O 0 0 0 40 0 0 0
Honduras
New York, Boston 4) 0 50 0 20 0 0 0
Charleston, Savannah
New Orleans
Havana
Canada
British North America
Newfoundland 0 0— 0 0 40 0— 0 0
Brazils
River Plate
East Indies
Company's Ships 45 u— 0 0 50 0— 0 0
Batavia
New South Wales
Cape of Good Hope
Africa
Gibraltar
Lima, Valparaiso, &c.
Malta, Sicily, Re.
Smyrna and Constantinople
Malaga - 0 0
Madeira
Western Isles, Cape de Verds 0 0— 0 0 0 0— 0 0
Lisbon
Cadiz
France
Holland
Hamburg, Bremen, &c.
20 0 0 0 0 0 t 0
GottenburZ Rtockholm
Petersburg, Riga. Re. - 0
Oporto ' 2O 04- 0 0 24 04,0 ♦
0

PACKET BOATS.—FAI,NIOI7III STATION
GENERAL POST-OFFICE, Nov. 13.
Ilail mode
Last Packets Next Par kris
DCHTINATION. up 175
Sailed. Due.
Lomlon.
- -
Holland
Hamburg & Saved Turn. & Fri. Tues. & Satur.
Lisbon
raganza,
' Nov. Madeira ...
B
'
Spain k ihralt. J J• Nov. 18.
Malta and Greece.. 2nd Saturday Braganza, Or .29
Egypt and India .. 4th Saturday • ...Oct. 29.
Madeira
Ist Tuesday 11.M.8. Seagul, Opossum,
Brazil & B. Ayres rach month Nov. 9. Nov. 23.
America lst Wednes. Reindeer,Nov 10 Skylark,Nov.lo
5 Jamai L'ward Ist day of Lord Melville, Pigeon,
I Isl. & Hayti.. each month Oct. 3. Nov, 26.
Laguira
Mexico nil Ha- 15th day of 11.M.8 Penguin Swift,
Italia
Jamai. L'wardl 15th day of H.M.B. Pandora Maemet,
I Isl. S. Hayti. Y each mouth. Oct. 17. Decd. m
Carbtagens J !

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