The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1840-02-21 00:00:00

" In order that no one may be misled by the above as-
sertion, I beg leave to make known, through the columns of
your paper, that no decision of the Pope relative to the sys-
tem of national education has been communicated to the
assembled prelates; and that, on the contrary, I have myself
this da2oreceived an official letter from Rome, stating that
the authorities were resolved not to enter on the consider-
ation of this important question until after the arrival of our
deputy, who, Up to the date of the letter received this morn-
ing, had not reached Rome.
" I have the hononr to be, Sir, your obedient servant,
" 0 W. HIGGINS. '"

Thus stands the quarrel—involving either party in he-
resy and schism, as the POPE may decide—at the present
juncture ; and a very pretty quarrel it is. But not for
this purpose do we advert to it. Our object in calling
attention to it is to impress upon the public mind the fact,
that a foreign authority assumes the right to interfere
with the domestic concerns of this country—.that there
exists in.lreland a body, which, disunited in itself upon
principles of 'detail, is united in its acknowledgment of
the Papal authority to legislate for the national education
of her Britannic MAJESTY'S subjects ; and that whatever
way the question be decided, the decision stamps the
future education of Ireland to be, and to continue, Papis-
. tical. For, if the POPE decide against the Board, it will
follow that the system advocated by Mac Hale (which is
exclusively and professedly Popish,) must be adopted in
the schools for the population ; whereas, on the other
hand, should his Holiness decide for the Board, his fiat
will be the acknowledgment, that the system of the Board
is sufficient in all the essentials of a Papistical education.
We do not deny the right or the duty of the Roman
Catholic Prelates to seek by all means strictly national,
and independent of foreign influence, that such should be
the case. Nay, considering the polity of the Church. of
Rome, it is natural her prelates should seek both at.horne:
and abroad, by foreign as well as by national means—per
fas et nefas—the accomplishment of their peculiar views.
But we do not see why—(nay, in these very circumstan-
ces we see the reason why they should not)—this Pro-
testant state and its houses of legislature should surrender
the national education to the hands of a foreign power,
and the officials which in this country acknowledge and
obey its sovereignty. If the POPE may legisiate for the edu-
cation of the country, he may surely direct its religion.
If me permit him the one power, how shall we restrain
him from the other ? And if in spirituals he gain the as-
cendant, it is little matter in what hands the temporal
power may appear to reside, for virtually it will rest in
his. The union of church and state will be that of the
British Monarchy with the Church of Rome.
Whether this conclusion be pushing the argument to an
extreme at which it is not likely to arrive, or whether it
be but the anticipation of what must happen if not timely
prevented, is what we shall not determine. This we know,
that in times when Popery was the sole dominant church,
ere the abuses of her pOwer had rendered the Reforma.
tion inevitable, neither Englishmen nor Irishmen would
have tolerated this foreign meddling with their domestic
concerns ; and a new statute of Premunire would have
asserted their national independence, had the Papacy of the
day presumed to dictate to them in what manner their
children shnuld be educated.

. But, .as we have often said, there is nothing national
in the character of Irish Popery. There is plenty of an
fit-Ai-1300i Spirit, which those who entertain it misrake
for independence .and patriotism: Mit set Ireland adrift
4p,triprrinfi,nritthe next day -we should -find her sons
dashing her to some foreign craft or other, and shouting
vivai for liberty in the wake of her new Papistical mistress.

It is eloquently observed by some writer, that memory has
rich gems of pleasure that she can call up to gladden the
heart evheretime ha's furrowed the cheek, and sprinkled the
sorrows of age upon the honoured head.
THE 'NARAS, A NEW FRUIT.—The 'naras was grow-
ing on little knolls of sand ; the bushes were about four or
five feet high, without leaves, and with opposite thorns on
the ligbtand dark-green striped branches. The fruit has a
coreaceous rind, rough with prickles, is twice the size of an
orange, or fifteen or eighteen inches in circumference, and
inside it resembles a melon as to seed and to pulp. I seized
a half-ripe one, and sucked it eagerly for the moisture it con-
tained ; and it burned my tongue and palate exceedingly,
which does not happen when this most valuable fruit is ripe—
it has then a luscious. subacid taste. Some plants of 'naras
are now growing in England (March, 1838), from seeds
which I brought home : they are a foot high, and beginning
to branch, having two thorns at each articulation, and a
stipule scarcely to be called a leaf between them, on the
axis of which is a bud, but no leaves.—Alexander's Expedi-
tion of Discovery.
THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON AND SIR JAMES IVIACDON.
ELL.—A friend has related to us an anecdote illustrative not
only of the high opinion entertained by his Grace of this dis-
tinguished general, but of the
_delicate generosity displayed
by Sir James to a non-commissioned officer of his regiment.
Some three years ago, the Duke of Wellington was waited
upon at Apsley House by two gentlemen, who announced to
him that, as executors of the will of a deceased friend of ec-
centric habits, who had left £5OO to the bravest man in the
British army, they called for the purpose of handing to his
Grace a check for that amount ;. being fully satisfied, that in
so doing they should religiously fulfil the duty imposed on
them by the testator. The Duke thanked them for the com-
pliment they had paid him, bat resolutely declined to receive
the money ; alleging, that the British army contained many
as brave men as himself. After several pressing remonstran-
0, his Grace's •Yisitors• earnestly requested that be would
consent to become arbritrat_or in. the matter, and indicate the
Individinil siTiviniziaieisbeqeeet
,should be - conferred. , To
this appeallie--i&eded c.earo-Misirig,in the Course of two or
three days, to give the mater his consideration, and report
to. them the; remit. At the appointed time they again made
t.h.eir appearance at Apsiey House. The Duke received_them
with great courtesy ; but assured them, that lie had found the
task a great deal more difficult than he had anticipated. After
enumerating to them the various battles in which he had beers
engaged, and some of the most striking feats of heroism he.
had witnessed, lie suggested, that if they had no objection, he
would make hii selection from the battle of Waterloo, ; that
being the last, the greatest, and most important, action of the
war. This point being adjusted, his Grace proceeded to
state, that Hugueruont having been the key to his entire po-
sition, and that post having been defended not only with the
most complete success, but with the most chivalrous bravery,
be Major General Sir James Macdonell, who commanded
there, he could point out no one so fully entitled to the legacy
as that officer. The executors repaired accordingly to Sir
.lames Macdonell, and having acquainted him with the de-
gsulsrlisTeodf
athae,aDrkul!oer oisfisWocill.aieneg,tsoan `Wellington, tendered him the mone y ..
James expressed himself highly flattered by so distin-
al, and observed, that
pi
although he
ishint:eet of hisshoulddeci not attempt to dispute altogether the pro-
ducted hine.elf w t ylet, as he knew a an wo had eon-
tle, he must iusist o''
t slicing
equal gallantry in the same bat-
ing the prize with him. He then
went on to say, that at
troops rushed striae Ilutgeue oneo periodwith osfa thea irresistiblethe
Ffroernacehs
that the gates of the
parsnist.were burst open, and, for a mo-
fma. appeared doubtful; when a
r.f.::::fststet;tiohrL.tilineei.Coldstieain Guards, of the
prramOewma?caftull.;serg&int orator
did, by dint of sheer physical strength, upon gates'
dsecirl(s with great
which they
imton the enemy.
Shortly afterwards the ',rends were clgriye,
slaughter, and the fate ef Huguemont was
added, that the Duke of Wellington had ey‘ideenlilyB.isreleacmteds
him because he was able 'to netke good a post which was a
key to liis position ; and he could not', on the same principle,
wi th bold from the gallant soldier who assisted him at soeriti-
lie would, therefore, accept the £5OO, and di-
cal a moment in fercine out the enemy, his proper share of
Serjeant.Major Fraser, to whom he accordingly
Nt!ilde.derxietw,:ivrirotli.
of the mouey.—Frorathe United Service Gazette.
paid -.,
Siquir.—"
then not dead ? " " No, my
you can cure bins sir •
THR Bll°_,":eNt " Well,
Lord, not uea,.. • _ , .._, r ,
." It his wife would do as she ought,
it might be possible .
you shall cure him.l
just possible, my lord, but she will not
h'lare rendered a
listen-
to the ravings of his insanity--w le i . thousand
part with him ; day and night does she sit beside him,
times more painful by the consciousness that at times returns
only with sufficient, brightness to heighten the gloom. There
she is, apparently living without sleep, or air, or exercise,
or almost food ; existing, as if she were the soul, the active,
I,ivi,oe, thinking soul, which has been banished
body'' best
not keep teem i•ng for herself noting
from that poor
b Owing her all uon it—re.en i
but the lope that literally springs for her despair. They would
n the lodging where I saw them at first, so
ong
she took a three room
detached thing, shakeonly sheltered by
shaking iu the blast, and
green unhealthy
so seized this morninflcs.:
poplars, and there she waits upon and watches
est
fits
choietrtavgoeiceinwai4susoboutrhbe, a miserable
him ; in his strongest
him • he was
' l • the
person whom I had whena I called—it was fearful ,
her
personal safety, mule
up her guitar—her poor e yet she took
init.idiuesin her, out of regard for
ITleep him down ;
more nerveless and unstrui% eluded with tears—her hand
did not heed .the chords, IFut,etehthe weak instrument. Ile
enishe sung—and sing she
did, in that poor shattered cottage
slii• whose voice used to
when she sung—
be applauded to the echoes not losTgs
his fingers ceased their fierce grapplingsebelit.,!ii'
y•e--i--). rsfectly still ;
seyesbythdaetgwreerees
returned to their humidity, he lay quite
at last a moisture sprang to his heated e
sing-
ing, my Lord, all the time—tears burst o cheeks 11A—she
fever flushed—still, my Lord, that suffering woman
hands
at last he turned his gaze on her. God ! how eerSt ilinag7
trembled -theta! In'
name, ' gargaret.' . another moment he called her by
She did not rush to him as a thought-
less woman would, but dropped the instrument; still singing
softly, then crept towards him, crawled on the poor bed
whereon he lay, and, the paroxysm over, the maniac sobbed
and cried upon that faithful bosom that loved him better a
thousand times than in the hours of his prosperity."-....
Zairian, ty, 'l,lOl, HA