The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-04-28 00:00:00

AN ADVENTURE IN CHINA.

The following are extracts from a letter by the chief en-
gineer of one of the war steamers at present on the coast
of China to his friends in Edinburgh :
" Whampoa, Jan. 26, 1846.
" The last instalment of the Chinese ransom money
(2,000,000 dollars) was paid in Canton last week. The
inhabitants being in a riotous state, we were ordered from
Hongkong up the river to lie abreast of Canton, and I be-
lieve to fire into the city in case of their attempting to
burn the factories. We remained there eight days, every
man on board under arms, as we expected every night au
attack from the populace, who seem to have the most bit-
ter enmity towards Europeans. The money was all paid,
however, and the rioting having partially subsided, we
were ordered away, at which I was just as well pleased,
having got tired of my bedfellows, no other than a pair of
loaded pistols and a drawn cutlass. Engineers were or-
dered to lie under arms, as well as every one else on board.
We have since taken up our station here, which is 20
miles further down the river than Canton, and about 60
from Hongkong. The scenery in this place being most
beautiful, and yesterday feeling inelined to enjoy it in a
walk through the country, I took a boat and one of my
apprentices with me, and, thinking I might find some
game, I took my eun also. We sailed up a small creek.
and, leaving the boy to take charge of the boat, I, with
,he gun in my hand, walked into the country. 1 had not
gone a quarter of a mile, when, on approaching a small
village, the people came towards me about 30 or 40 in
number. They began hooting and crying at me, which is
the usual way they have of treating us barbarians' when
they get a lone one unprotected ; and, as they kept press-
ing round me closely. I thought it useless to persevere in
going forward. Therefore, turning myself round to go
back to the boat, one from behind made a sudden spring.
grasping in his arm both my legs under the knees, and
another seizing the barrel of my gun, they dragged me to
the ground. The latter kept pulling at the gun, trying to
wrest it from me, all the while the muzzle pointing to his
breast. The gun being at the time in full cock, I had his
life completely in my power; my first thought was, '
will take it;' the second was, it Ido so, mine will cer-
tainly pay the penalty.' In the meantime another was
striking at me with a stick, and I was compelled to relin-
quish my hold of the gun to defend my face with ivy arms;
the fellow now in possession of the gun wielding it as if to
strike me on the head with the bt.tt end. I cannot ell
you how I felt, every instant expecting a death-blow. It.
was very strange that at that moment the picture of the
death of Captain Cook, in the volume of his voyages in
my father's bookcase, came vividly before my eyes—their
gestures and appearance were altogether quite as s ivage-
like. Before the blow came, I managed to spring to my
feet, and attempted to keep them back, unarmed as I was.
They then desisted, and went into the village taking with
them my gun, hat, poa der-flask—in fact, all my property.
I was completely fleeced, my clo.hes were torn to pieces,
the pockets and their contents torn away fro n my c at.
Glad I was, 1 can assure ycu, when I saw their backs
turned; and, walking on towards the boat, I saw them
assembling again, as if to intercept me. Now, hought I,
they are going to have a shot at me—this is anoth, r or-
deal ; but presently the gun vv,nt off in the middle of
them, and I felt relieved so far, as it is very likely some of
them were hurt. The savages are quite ignorant of the
the use of a gun, and one of them may have been looking
into the barrel, for all 1 know to the contrary. My trou-
bles did not end .here; for on reaching the spot where I
1-ft the boat, I found both it and the boy gone. I saw,
however, two Chinese in a boat, and promised them mo-
ney if they would take me across the creek. I aent into
their boat, and finding my pockets two rupees, which
the late rubbers had missed, 1 gave them to them ; they
then wanted more, and, having me a prisoner in their
boat, made motions as if they were going to search me,
upon which I made an attempt to throw one of them over-
board. They desisted, and landed me on the other side.
I know the villains only wanted a few more to help them ;
they don't consider the odds in their favour, two against
one European. I then walked along the banks of the
river for a long distance, until I discovered another boat,
the people in which I persuaded by promises to take rue to
my ship. It turned cut that the boy 1 had left in the
boat had been plundered by another party of everything
but his shirt and trousers, and was glad to escape with
his life. lie had returned to the vessel, telling the offi-
cers that he thought I was murdered, and they immedi-
ately sent an armed boat's crew in search of me. I
wanted the captain to give me anther boat with armed
men, and I would go and burn the vill-ge ; but he said he
could not take so much upon himself. At the time of the
war such a thing might have been done, and frequently
was for far less cause. He tells me he will report it io the
Admiral. who will most probably take notice of it throuA
tie Chinese authorities. You may depend upon it the
Cbine,e will pay dearly yet for the say they have been go-
ing on lately. S nee this occurred, I hear.) of several
Europeans having been maltreated quite as ill and worse
than me in this neighbourhood. Only this morning an
American boat's crew was attacked by these savages, but
they broke their oars into cudgels, and beat them off.
Mr. S— told me that he and two missionaries sere
nearly killed in the same way ; they were severely beaten
with sticks, robbed, and their clothes torn to pieces."—
, Scotsman.

A HAPPY COMPARISON.—A distinguished divine of
this city, in alluding, on Sunday last, to the magn,tic
telegraph, spoke of it as "the highway of thought."—
Albany Citizen (American paper).

- - -
ALL IN THE FAMILY.—The following matrimonial an-
noincement appears in a recent American paper:—Mar-
ried, on the 30-h ultimo, at the residence of L. 11. B.
Whittaker, by the Rev. G. A. T. Whittaker. Mr. M. T.
Whittaker. to Miss Sarah E. Whittaker, all of Whittaker
Town, N. C.
Copious STon.Y.—Sir R. H. Dicks, who fell in the
last bloody battle on the banks of the Sutlej. was the son
of the late Dr. Dick, of Tullimet, in Perthshire He was
engaged in Egypt, the Peninsula, and at Waterloo.
Cuidad R 'drier), Fort St. Michael, and other plact s knew
his name. On the restoration of peace he reined to his
paterna; domain of Tullimet, which continued the scene
of tranquil family retirement until 1830, when, his wife
dying, he again obtained an honourable command in his
sovereign's service, and after years spent under a scorch-
ing Indian sun, he died gloriously in his country's cause.
There is a romantic tale connected with Sir Robert Dick's
father, which we may here detail.—Some sixty years ago
and upwards the Right Hon. Ed. Burke and Mr. Dunda',
afterwards Lord Melville. were on a visit to the Duke of
Athol, at Dunkeld. On a hot summer day they took it
into their heads to walk from Dunkeld to Blair Athol
Castle, another seat of the Duke's, and distant about
twenty-three miles. On their way, they happened to
observe a young, peasant girl, about nineteen years of age,
engaged in leading a book at a short distance from the
way side. " Come," said Dundas, " let us sea what this
sentimental young lady is about." Addressing her, they
found that they were not far from her father's house ; and.
being desirous of some refreshment, they entered it with
her. While there, they made themselves known. As
thep were about to leave, Mr. Dundas asked h;s young
friend if he could do any thing for her. Toe young wo-
man requested a few words in private; and then ad-
dressed him ;---" Mr. Du;Alas," said she, " they tell me
you are a great man, and 1 am sure you are a good man.
There is a young man in this Neighbourhood, who is at-
tached to me; and I would willingly (miry him, but that
he has no prospect of a profession, by which I and he may
live. He has been studying medicine in Edinburgh.
Will you assist him ?" " I will," said Mr. Duridas.
The latti r took down his name ; and in a few months he
was appointed assistant-surgeon to a vessel which sailed
for India. Shortly after, the youthful lovers were united.
In India, Mr. Dick rose to eminence—was held in high
respect by our Eastern Government—and, having real-
ized a large fortune, returned to his own country, where
he became the proprietor of Tullimet. Such was the ori-
gin—such the end—of Sir Robert Henry Dick ; a man
whose name will live in story. so long as the remem-
brance of British valour and British patriotism shall en-
dure.

CANNING'S DEATH.—About the middle of May, Lord
Lansdowne, Lord Carlisle, and Mr. Tierney, were intro-
duced into the cabinet. Thus, notwithstanding the un-
precedented opposition, public and private, by which he
had been systematically impeded, Mr. Canning was now
at the head of the strongest government that had existed
in England since the days of Pitt. Early in June he
brought forward the budget, and subsequently some reso-
lutions founded on the corn bill. The last time he ever
spoke in Parliament was on the 29th of June, when he
briefly answered an important question. On the 2nd of
July Parliament was prorogued. The exertions he had
latterly been compelled to make, operating upon a peculi-
arly sensitive constitution, speedily began to display their
terrible effects. The excitement of the session was over ;
and there was leisure now fur the fatal struggle between
disease and the noweis of life. On the 10th Mr. Canting
dined with the Chancel!, r at Wimbledon, and incautiously
sitting under a tree in the open air, while he was yet warm
with exercise, cough: a cold which ended in rheumatism.
Mr. Huskisson, whose health was also suffering, and who
had been recommended to try the air of the continent,
called on Mr. Canning to take leave, and found him in
bed, looking very ill. Struck by the change in his looks,
he observed that he (Mr. Canning) was the person
who most stood in need of change and tel.:cation. Mr.
Canning smiled, and replied cheerfully, " Oh! it is only
the reflection of the yellow linings of the curtains !" He
never saw him again—that faithful life-long friend. On
the 20th, Mr. Canning removed to the Duke of Devon-
shire's villa, which his grace had lent to him for change
of air; the same villa and the sauce room to which Fox,
under circumstances painfully similar, and at the sato&
age had also removed—to die. His disease—still increas-
ing—fluctuated from day to day ; and he was occasionally
able to attend to public bu,iness. On the 25th he dined
with the Marquis of Clanricarde, but complained of debi-
lity. and teturned early to
.Chie•wick. On the 30th he
paid his last visit to the King, at Windsor : his Majesty
saw that he was very ill, and desired Sir William Knighton
to call upon him. It was too late. Mr. Canning received
some friends at dinner on the following day, retired early,
and never rose again. He sufferel excruciating pain,
which rent his frame so violently as to deprive him at in-
tervals of all mental coesciousness. On the Sunday be-
fore his death he requested his daughter to read prayers
—his own unvarying custom, whenever he was prevented
from attending church. At length his strength fell, his
agonies diminished in proportion, and on the B'.ll of August.
a little before four o'clock in the mortitmr, be expired in
the 57th year of his age. His funeral took place at West.
minster Abbey, where he was buried at the foot of Mr.
Pitt's tomb, on the 16th of August. It was attended by
the members of the royal family, the cabinet ministers,
the foreign ambassadors. and a number of political and
personal friends. The morning after his funeral the King
conferred a peerage on his widow. Other no less gratify-
ing marks of public estimation were showered upon his
memory, abroad and at home—statues. medals, and monu-
ments. But the most grateful of all was the profound
and universal sorrow of the people. All jealousies and
animosities were extinguished in the common grief.—Bell's
Life of Canning.

THE USES or SUFFt.RING.—The uses of suffering are
manifest to every reflecting man. It is clear that what is
in itself a judgment, is also a fruitful source of bles-
sing. It beautifies the thought, and softens the heart of
him who endures it rightly, and strengthens the bond
which binds men together in mutual dependence. It sets
a true value on all things, and despises nothing. It
teaches us to extract the good from the evil, and even
brigh'ens the hope of immortality, which leads us on
through all the gloom and vicissitude of human life to
that glorious revelation of the kingdom for which we
look. Who can tell what wondrous things are involved
in the mystery of the dispensation yet to come ?—who
can tell what positions and what duties their ultimate de-
velopment may disclose?—who can say, with how just an
adaptat on to its end the suffering of every man is fitted,
that he may be prepared and qualified for that which shall
dev.lve upon him hereafter ? We have but little under-
standing of the purpose of God, if we confine it in ope-
ration to the sphere of this world; we have but little
knowledge of our own capacities, if we limit the objects
of their exercise within the narrow boundaries of the
earth ; we must be ignorant of the nature of the many
germs of a future and glorious fruition, which have been
implanted in our being, if we suppose that all the growth
of which they are susceptible must be accomplished
within the period of a life below. The purpose of God,
the powers of roan, the end of his being, are neither ex-
hausted nor fulfilled within the compass of an e,rthly ex-
istence. They who think so will wake up hereafter wi,h
the surprise of wondering joy or bitter disappointment,
accordingly as they have been faithful to the light, or
have abused the gifts which they have received.—Church
of England Quarterly Review.