The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1845-11-18 00:00:00

north easterly, and th

to nice k❑

%%hen another of t
ly one, (ft

ght therepaire

f another, v

plate wlitc

[he most was the❑ made
'wept from drag-

he caila

run on

, _
only made 31 knots.—
and was considered to

g qualifications, and very good

is noted

the rema
half arm

from, t

; arm of
the sm

the circumstances. The distlnce
s 157 knots by the log; on the Ist
(1, 214; on the 3d, 18-1; on the 511),
what was left of it, did wonders at

tes past

I sail s

lea beautifully, tali

quarter and beam occa:

two ships

rate of two miles an hour
loo_ "is vccliul.rftil_ with

ots, close as she could lay

ail and mainsail, which
lout a quarter past five

?rbroke, leaving only the
f another about two feet

as cut down as low as pos-

le un t
could carry

as off P

Bth the engines

meat, aft

The ✓wind

say that

and the ship scudded

a spray on the larboard

pally, but as eiisy or easier than
ed. Oa the 11th
come ap to at the

close hauled

"'Phis," says the

spread of canvas, and

her continued v

the 17th, (ye

k, and dirty, until t

I they were favoured

t one p.m.
m. a pilot and two
north-west light-ship,
or water, brought the

r Idol

!day.) the ship pas

passengers met in the dining
ement expressive of the sense
I's capabilities. This docu-

e accident

j the screw, g

es on to

e Great Britain as a sailing vessel

,at. Several vessels were over-
,sed, and during a very heavy gale
sted nearly 24 hours, an ex-
afforded of judging of her strength
t, and the passengers state that the
admiration of all on board, and
emselves previously experienced
on the Atlantic, that she will sustain her
e of the ablest triumphs of modern archi-
, after declaring their opinion
y, speed, and comfort, is unsur-
.,,,ncludes by expressing their high opinion of her
—mander, Capt. Hosken, a.N., under the trying cir-
cumstances of such a passage, and by bearing testimony
to his perseverance in difficulty, and his good judgment
and skill throughout. The document is signed by all the
passengers.

and abili'
Great B

on tut
vine t'

severe v%
charactc

tech.
that
pass,

)F PASSENGERS

Hope, Captain J. A.
legiment, Mr. D. Whitley, Mr. W.
G. F. Orde, Lady, and three children, Mr.
Mr. G. Tomes, Mrs. C. Whittaker
Mr. Tuckness, Mr. J. A. Cuthbert:
_.., Mr. W. King. Mr. Williams, Mr.
lenry Ibbotson, Mr. Henry Cocker, and
—Total 23.

From New Yor
Ftnhert snn. 82nd T

Hodnet

T. O'Connell,
t. Davis, R. I'

J. M`Call, M
Mr. Edwards.

Unfortunately our files of papers have been sent to the
Post-office, from whence we could not obtain them in
time for the issue of our publication to subscribers, but
we shall announce the intelligence which the vessel has
brought in an early second edition.

atraturr.

VARIETIES

EARLY HOURS IN VIE HOUSE OF COMMONS.—In the
days of William 111. the House of Commons was accus-
tomed to sit at nine o'clock in the morning In the sea

sion whicl

to con

ommenced Nov
he hot

?d, 1695, Paul Foley, Esq.,
for having a second time elected
' recommended to them that, in order
cid management of this session, they would please
t a great part of the

g, for t

tap had been formerly lost by gentlemen's coming late to
the house." After the speaker and the members had
lakeu the oaths, the house adjourned, as usual, to the fol.
owl-,g morning at nine o'clock !
THE PHILOSOPHER.—The philosopher falls into the
ame error from which he would warn others: he bids us
but to believe that much may
small idea; and all the while

ust to

happen of which

;ument is from experience : he sees the works
of nature developed before his eyes from natural causes:
he concludes that none but natural causes have existed
from the beginning: he believes a thousand things which
he cannot see, that he may escape from believing one.
It was commensurate wisdom, he thinks, in the Creator
to do everything at once: he places the Supreme in the
throne of a modem constitutional monarch: he allows
him pomp and reverence enough, but no interference.
He crowns his Deity with laurels, and then binds him
with poppy.—Church of England Quarterly Review.

hit; whole

LADIES' SHOES.—As for the ladies, truly we have little
to say; they have always done pretty well in the matter
of their feet. For them shoes are indispensably neces-
sary, and, indeed, highly appropriate and b.,coming—so,
too, are half-boots—and, fixed between these limits, the
fair sex never have gone, nor, perhaps, can go, far astray.
The nearer they keep to the form of nature in the clothing
of their feet the better—it is a rule as true as the day,
that a woman can seldom, if ever, artificially improve her
form. But there is one curious circumstance connected
with ladies' shoes, which, it appears, our fair country-
women are not competent judges of—at least we appeal
to every man in England not beyond his grand climac-
teric, and with two eyes in his bead, for the correctness
of our views in what we are going to assert 7 a lady's
shoe, worn with crossing sandals, gently curving over the
instep and round the ankle, is immeasurably superior to
the plain, quarter-like, old-maid affair, worn with the
old-fashioned tie or button. Did women but know how
much these slender lines of riband add to their appearance,
how well the contrast sets off the anatomical beauties of
their feet, they would never put on a shoe without such
an appendage. In the same way, the nicely fitted boot,
displaying the exact form of the arching foot, and delici-
ously contrasted in colour with the robe or stocking, gives
a prestige to a lady's foot, which can only be compared
to the effect produced by the Hessian boot upon their
lords and masters.—Blackwood's Magazine.
CHAOS IS COME AGAIN.-0I all the moves to which
we have been witness, the last railway move is the most
stag-Gering. Some people have called it a panic, but it
is, in truth, a pay-nick, and turns upon the difficulty of

obtaining money for the deposits. Capel-court has been
a scene of the most delectable confusion. Incledon used
to sing of " Sally in our Alley." but the brokers say that
the sally in their alley lately beats it hollow. What a
tremendous agitating, devastating, spiflicating dash has
there been in Capel-court since our last! How changed
the aspect of things! Then were made thousands by
Literally people were literally mad for a love
f allotments, because they brought in cool

allot m
of Iprr

hundreds with ti
however
have given the go
at a discount

oreatest ease in the world. Now,
the tocsin has been sounded, and speculators
etlers. All—all the lines are
lemen, whose mothers did not
ow struck with horror at the

contemplation of the par in the shares. Thus paternal
affection is in the ascendant, for boys fear to mar their
fortunes, and are afraid of par. The venerable Mrs.
Rothschild, we are told by the papers, is now nearly in
her hundredth year, and her only hope is to live, out the

century, as she„ says she should not like to die below par.
It is useless to think of any business not connected with
railways. The age of gold sinks into insignificance when
compared with the present age of iron. Brass was once
considered a requisite : now people think more of tin.—
Go-a-Head Journal.
LADY HESTER STANHOPE'S DRESS.—Her turban, a
arse, woollen, cream-coloured, Barbary shawl, was
'lnd loosely round, over the red fez, or tarboosh, which
red her shaved head ; a silk handkerchief, commonly
by the Bedouin Arabs, known by the Arabic name
,ah, striped pale yellow and red, came between the
-hail, being tied under the chin, or let it fall
7f her face. A long sort of white
merino cloak (meshlah or abah in Arabic) covered her
person from the neck to the antes, looped in white silk
brandenburghs over the chest : and by its ample and ma-
jestic drapery and loose folds gave to her figure the ap-
pearance of that fullness which it once really possessed.
When her cloak happened accidentally to be thrown open
in front, it disclosed beneath a crimson robe (joobey),
reaching also to her feet; and, if in winter, a pelisse under
it, and under that a cream-coloured or flowered gown
(kombaz), folding over in front, and girded with a shawl
scarf round the waist. Beneath the whole she wore
-t pantaloons of cloth, with yellow low boots called
nap:soles, or, in other words, ayellowlea-
tg w..ich slipped into yellow slippers or pa-
This completed her costume ; and, although it
.It, that of a Turkish gentleman, the most testi-
cle could not have found anyt'aing in it untie-
, woman, except its association, as a matter of
with the male sex. She never wore pearls, preci-
ous stones, trinkets, or ornaments, as some travellers have
affirmed ; indeed, she bad none in her possession, and
never had had any from the time of her shipwreck
Speaking of her own dress, she would say,— I think l
look something like those sketches of Guercino's, where
you see scratches and touches of the pen round the heads
and persons of his figures, so that you don't know whether
it is hair or a turban, a sleeve or an arm, a mantle or a
veil, which he has given them.' And when she wasseated
on the sofa, in a dim corner of the room, the similitude
was very inst.—Memoir of Lady Hester Stanhope.

of keffe,
fez and

aving pt

PHILOSOPHY or SHAVING.—There is no part of the
day which a man may turn to greater advantage than the
period employed in shaving. We date our day—not from
the turn of twelve, or from sunrise—but from the remo-
val of yesterday's beard. We cannot be said to belong to
to-day, while we have so material a part of yesterday
about us. Then the operation with a keen razor, and
when the wind is not in the east, is really a pleasant ope-
ration. At no one period of the day is a man more tran-
quil. But with a dull razor and an east wind ! However,
let us not think too much of the little unpleasantnesses of
of life. A keen razor, and a fine morning, after a six or
seven hours' unit terrupted sleep, occasion a great num-
ber of delightful thought?. Southey composed his Devil's
Walk, on different days, with the lather of an easy shave
at Keswick on his chin. When the wind is in the proper
quarter, and the razor rightly set, the operation of shav-
ing is a sure incentive to travel. A well-set razor wafts
us to Toledo, or Damascus, or Shf-ffiz!d, at the nearest;
the ivory-handled badger's-hair brush to country sports
and Elephantine caves; and the soap itself (real Naples it
is we use) to soft Parthenope, and the tranquil bay of Na-
ples.—Fraser's Magazine.
THE CHAMELEON.—The chameleon has been known
from all antiquity, and has been long celebrated for its
supposed faculty of living upon air, and changing colour
according to the bodies to which it approximates. This

ken supposition has found its way in several i,

mist
stances

nto poetry,

" As the chameleon, who is known

To have no colour of his own

But borrows fi om his neighbours' hue
His white or black, or green or blue.

And struts as much in ready light
Which credit gives him upon sight

" On that hope
I build my happiness, I live upon it,
Like the chameleon on its proper food,

The unsu

Hardie Sir Thomas More, Act ii.

Observation at the present day has done justice to these
fables of which the animal is the object. The colours of
the chameleon do, in fact, change with equal frequency
and rapidity ; but it is by no means true that they are de-
termined by those of surrounding objects. Their shades

depend on the volition of the animal, on the state of its
feelings, on its good or bad health, and are besides subor-
dinate to climate and to sex. Chameleons live on in-
sects, and principally on flies ; they seize them with viva-
city by means of their long and gluey tongues, and
bruise them between their paws. Like other reptiles, the
chameleon can remain for months without eating, which
has given rise to the opinion that they live on air.— The
Zoology of the British Poets corrected by the Writings
of Modern Naturalists, by R. H. Newell, 8.D..
BENEFICIAL RESULTS OF DRAINING.—The evil
effects arising from the existence of much marshy and

to all. Not only does such a surface prevent the beat of
the sun from being absorbed during summer, and thus
make the winter far more severe, but when it does
shine on such low marshy lands, it causes them to exhale
noxious vapours, which are the fertile sources of plague
and pestilence in the localities where they rise, and are
often wafted on the winds of heaven, carrying disease and
death to the dwellers in another hemisphere. Some of
the finest spots in Europe arc rendered dangerous by this
very cause. An intelligent traveller tells us that the
beautiful villas in the Campagna di Roma are deserted
during summer ; that no one dares to sleep in them : and
that even the shepherds drive their flocks to the rising
grounds and come into Rome at night. The locality is
low and moist, and a vegetable effluvia is seen to rise to
a certain height, in the shape of a fog, which is extremely
hurtful both to man and be::st. Had the Italian the
industry and the means to drain the soil of this lovely
spot, the evil would speedily be removed, and the atmos-
phere completely changed. So, in our own country, the
insalubrity of its marshy districts, and the extreme
severity of the climate in some of its upland quarters, are
capable of being much modified by the cultivation and
drainage of the soil. This is a matter which affects not
only the fertility of the land, but the welfare of the in-
habitants. Cold as our climate naturally is, were all its
marshes drained and all its surface tile-drained, we would
soon have a more genial and salubrious atmosphere.
The results of experiments already made fully bear out
these statements. Desolate wastes have been converted
into pleasant pastures ; men have been rewarded by
bounteous harvests, and in many well-authenticated cases,
by a longer average lease of life. In the recent reports
in the New Statistical Account of Scotland, the uniform
reply to queries on this subject is—' Ague formerly pre-
vailed, but not since the land was drained.' Professor
Buckland mentions, among other instances, a parish in
Leicester in which he made careful observations as to
the result of draining on the atmosphere and the health
of the inhabitants, and in that portion of the parish which
was well drained he found the average of life to be 224.,
while in the other part not drained it was only 13, or

nine years less !—Hogg's Weekly InBlructor.
QUEEN CAROLINE AND LADY HESTER STAN HOPE.—
Some allusion having been made to Queen Caroline, Lady
Hester asked me what they said in England about her
trial? ' Do,' said she, tell me something about it. Did
you see her? I suppose it was like Warren Hasting's
trial?' She continued,—' I prevented the explosion the

first tim
of Cum'
ner 1

and I will tell you how
and called on me, and, in his accustomed man-

e Duke

" Well, Lady Hester, it will be all out to-
morrow. We have printed it all, and to-morrow it will
be all out.' I knew what he meant, and said to him,—
' Have you got the Chancellor's leave ? I, for my part,
don't like the business at all.. Why dont you like it ?'
asked the Duke. Because,' answered I, ' I have too
much respect for Royalty to desire to see it made a sub-
ject for Grub-street songs. I did not say this so much
on the P— of W—'s account as for the sake of the
P—ss. I dreaded the other disclosures to which a bu-
siness like this might lead. The Duke turned away, as if
in thought, and 1 saw that the same idea sttuck him ;
for, after a pause, he resumed his position, and answered,
—' you are quite right, Lady Hester ; by God ! You are
quite right : but what am I to do? We have gone too
far; what am Ilto do?' Why, I think,' rejoined I,' the
best thing you can do is to go and ask the Chancellor.'
So off he packed ; and I fancy Mr. Perceral, and the
Chancellor, and he, talked it over, and decided on quash-
ing the business. Why, Doctor, the papers were all
printed, and it cost Mr. Perceval £lO,OOO out of the se-
cret service money to recover one copy which had been
taken off his table. Going out in a hurry, and forgetting
to look it up, he had left the book open in his room. It
was not a thing to escape. Somebody stole it ; and I
know to a certainty that it cost £lO,OOO to get it back
again. As for the P—ss of W—, I did not care
about her. She was a nasty, vulgar, impudent woman,
that was not worth telling a lie about. I never could feel
for her. If she had been a different kind of person, one
might have made up one's mind to swear that it was one's-
self that was walking in one's nightclothes from one bed
room to another, and not her Royal Highness. I always
used to tell the ladies in waiting, if ever they saw me
closeted with her, to contrive some excuse or other to

come in and break up the conversation. 1 was deter-
mined she should never make a confidante of me. Some-
times she would begin, ' You know, Lady Hester, that
Sir Richard,'—and then I was sure to begin to cough, or
to interrupt her with, ' Oh, I am going out to walk,' or
whatever happened to come into my head, so as to put a
s' op to her revelations.'— Walpole's Memoirs of Geo. 111.
MONKEYS.—A.n impertinent curiosity runs through all
their actions ; they never can let things a!one, but must
know what is going forward. If a pot or a kettle is set on
the fire, and the cook turns her back, the monkey whips
off the cover to see what she has put into it, even though
he cannot get at it without setting his feet upon the hot
bars of the grate. Mimicry is another of the monkey's
qualities. Whatever he sees men do he must affect to do
the like himself. He seems to have no rule of his own,
and so is ruled by the actions of men or beasts, as weak
people follow the fashion of the world, whether it be good
or bad. No monkey has any sense of gratitude, but takes
his victuals with a snatch, and then grins in the face of
the person that gives it him, lest he should take it away
again ; for he supposes that all men will snatch away what
they cut lay hold of, as all monkeys do. Through an
invincible selfishness no monkey considers any individual
but himself, as the poor cat found to her cost, when the
monkey burned her paws with raking his chesnuts out of
the fire. They never can eat together in company with-
out quarrelling and plundering one another. Every mon-
key delights in mischief, and cannot help doing it when it
is in his power. If anything he takes hold of can be bro-
ken or spoiled he is sure to find the why of doing it ; and
he chatters with pleasure when he hears the noise of a

china vessel smashed to pieces on the pavement. If he
takes up a bottle of ink he empties it on the floor. He
unfolds all your papers and scatters them about the room,
and what he cannot undo he tears to pieces; and it is

...._____ ful to see how much of this work he wilt do in a
few minutes when he happens to get loose. Everybody
has heard of a monkey whose curiosity led him to the
mouth of a cannon to see how it went off, when he paid
for his peeping with the loss of his head. In a ship where
a relation of mine was an officer, while the men were busy
in fetching powder from below and making cartridges, a
monkey on beard tozk np a lighted candle and ran down
to the powder room t 3 see what they were about; but,
happily, was oaertaken just as he got to the lantern and
thrown out at the nearest port hole into the sea with the
lighted candle in his hand. Another lost his life by the
spirit of mimicry ; he had seen his master shaving his own
face, and at the first opportunity he took up the razor to
shave himself, and made shift to cut his own throat.
When the wild monkeys have escaped to the top of the
trees the people below who want to catch them show them
the use of gloves, by putting them on and pulling them off
repeatedly ; and when the monkeys are supposed to have
taken the hint, they leave plenty of gloves on the ground,
having first lined them with pitch. The monkeys come
down, put on the gloves, but cannot pull Clem off again ;
and when they are surprised, betaking themselves to the
trees as usual, they slide backwards and are taken. * *
A late neighbour of mine in the country kept a monkey
who took to riding his hogs, especially one of Cam,
which he commonly singled out as fittest for his use ; and,
leaping upon its back, with his face towards the tail, he
whipped it unmercifully, and drove it about until it could
run no longer. The hogs lived under such continual ter-
rors that, when the monkey first came abroad in the
morning, they used to set up a great cry at the sight of
him. A well known nobleman once had a wild horse
whom nobody could ride. I know net what your lord-
ship can do with him," said one, " but to set the monkey
upon his back." So they put a pad to. the horse, and set
the monkey upon it with a switch in nis hand, which he
used upon the horse, and set him into a furious kicking
and galloping ; but Pug kept his seat and exercised his
switch. The horse lay down upon the ground ; but when
he threw himself upon one aide, the monkey was upon the
other ; he ran into a wood with him to brush him off; but
if a tree or bush occurred on one side the monkey slipped
to the other side, till at last the horse was so sickened,
and fatigued, and broken-spirited, that he ran home to
the stable for protection. When monkey was removed a
boy mounted him, who managed the horse with ease, and
he never gave any trouble afterwards,--Sharpe's London
Magazine.

THE LIVERPo

The facetious Mr. Murray, of the E"inburgh Theatre,
set the modern Athenians in a roar the other night with
a new reading of the air-drawn dagger apostrophe in
" Macbeth :"

Is that a Railway that I see before me,
TheiPremium toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee :
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Hast thou, then, no Provisional Committee—
And but a Railway of the mind: a false creation
Proceeding from the Scrip oppressed brain ?
I see thee yet, in Shares as palpable
As the Glenmutchkins (great applause) and now with
Equalising calls for present payment,
. _

Width was not so before. 'thLit's quite another thing.
LANCASHIRE V. COCKNEY LAND.—II must be confes-
sed that the bulk of our city people, however smart in
their own particular lines, are deficient in that keenness
of perception by which a genu'ne Lancashire speculator
scents danger of +r off. A regular city man sees very
clearly everything within the circle of which his own nose
is the radius; he goes on in hopeful blindness so long as
no alarm is felt by those around him; and he does not
run till aroused by the tramp of hurrying feet. But the
true Lancashire speculator reads something more than the
share list and the city article ; he watches the returns of
the revenue, and the accounts of the harvest,—a single
paragraph often conveys to him a very significant hint;
he remembers, compares, reasons, and when he thinks
the time is come, he acts.- So, when the revenue returns
of the 10th of October exhibited a deficiency, it was im-
mediately followed by the evidence of a strong disposition,
on the part of the more knowing of the Lancashire specu-
lators, to sell oat. This became more marked, as the
rumours increased of a failure in the potato crop, and as
the rise in the price of grain indicated a deficiency. The
Lancashire movement at last alarmed Capel Court; and
at this critical moment the Times adroitly sounded the
alarm.—Railway Examiner.

PERILS OF SEA FOWLING.—A father and two sons
were out together, and, having firmly attached their rope
at the summit of a precipice, they descended to their
usual occupation. Having collected as many birds and
eggs as they could carry, they were all three ascending by
the rope—the eldest of the sons first, his brother a fathom
or rwo below him, and the father following last. They
had made considerable progress, when the elder son,
looking upwards, perceived tke strands of the rope grind-
ing against a sharp edge of rock, and gradually giving way.
He immediately reported the alarming fact. " Will it
hold till we gain the summit?" asked the father. "It
will not hold another minute," was the reply ; " our triple
weight is loosening it rapidly !" " Will it hold one ?"
said the father. "Itis as much as it can do," replied
the son ; " even that is but doubtful." " There is then a
chance at least of one of us being saved ; draw your knife
and cut away below," was the cool and intrepid order of
the parent. " Exert yourself, and you may yet escape,
and live to comfort your mother !" There was no time
for discussion or further hesitation. The son looked up
once more, but the edge or" the rock was cutting its way,
and the rope had nearly severed. The knife was drawn,
the rope was divided, and the father and brother were
hunched into eternity!—Stanley's History of Birds.
A GOOD STORY TELLER.—GaIt seemed to me to be by
nature a male Scherazaide. He had the gift of narrative,
so rare, so fine, so seemingly simple, but so inexplicably
difficult ; repartee is nothing to it ; the power of relating
a story, without affectation, or weariness to your listener,
is one above all price. IN omen excel in it more than
men : but then they are aided by the varying countenance,
the soft voice, the quick apprehension of an auditor's
feelings. They are, it is true, apt to hurry ; and hurry is
fatal to a narrative. Coleridge had it : at his friend Mr.
Gilman's, at Highgate, what heads were bowed down to
listen to his half-dissertations, half-narratives ; his eye
mildly glistening all the while, his white hair falling about
his neck, his accents thrilling in the ear of young and old,
gay and grave. Moore has it, but in a very different
mode ; his stories are short and pithy, without the
thoughtful moral of Coleridge, or the strong situations
which Galt delighted to depict. For Galt was melodra-
matic in his tales ; there was always a surprise, a mystery,
an anomaly, at all events, at the end of them. He spoke
in a low, monotonous voice, with much of the Greenock
accent marring its sweetness but adding to its effect ; and
he bent his high forehead down, and his eyes, long, nar-
row, and deep-sunk, were fixed steadily noon those of him
to whim he addressed himself ; and he Went on, stopping
at intervals to catch an exclamation from his listener, and
to return it with his own dry laugh. His narrative was
simple, succinct, unambitious in phrase, and had the
charm of seeming to be thoroughly enjoyed by him who
spoke it, as it usually was by those to whom it was spoken.
Bentley's Miscellany.

CONSEQUENCES OF PITT'S RESIGNATION.—Pitt was
in his zenith when the machinations of Bute and the
Princess suddenly paralyzed his efforts, and rendered bis
position as a minister of the crown no longer serviceable
to the King or to the country. He resigned, and' the
nation was thunderstruck, alarmed, and indignant. The
city of London proposed to address the King to know
why Mr. Pitt was dismissed ; but it being replied that the
King would tell them he had not dismissed Mr. Pitt, but
had wished him to continue in employment, the motion
dropped. Some proposed a general mourning ; others,
more reasonable, to thank Mr. Pitt for his services; but
this too was damped, for the favourite agents were not
idle, and insinuated that Mr. Pitt had acted with mis-
chievous views ; for they who were incapable of great
views were excellent in undermining. The King was
advised to heap rewards on his late minister. The
Princess pressed it eagerly. A peerage, a vast pension,
the government of Canada (as a mark that it was not to
be restored at the peace), were offered to him. He had
the frailty to accept a peerage for his wife, and a pension
of £3,000 a-year for three lives. The Rifts were scarcely
received before their acceptance was notified wheresoever
a knowledge of the fact might bring the patriot reproach,
It was of the highest consequence to Bute that the gifts
should be regarded as a bribe, and nothing more. How
else could the popular heart behold the injury inflicted
upon its darling with ratience, or suffer another to usurp
his rightful seat? Pitt's acceptance of the boon was
published in the earliest Gazette, and it was the first time
that a pension had ever been made public through the
medium of its pages. Idols, however, are not so easily
abandoned. The notice of the pension appeared in the
Gazette of the 9th of October, 1761. On the 9th of the
following November the King and all the Royal Family
dined in the city with the Lord Mayor. Thither, too,
went Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple, in a chariot together.
To them all acclamations were addressed, and the dis-
tinctions paid in the Guildhall to Mr. Pitt, to the total
neglect of the King, bestowed all the honour of the tri-
umph on the former. Little was wanting to turn the
pageant into a tragedy. Riots ensued, and many persons
were insulted. The favourite had taken the precaution
of having a guard of butchers and bruisers, and by the
defence of that convoy alone escaped mischief.—Memoirs
of George the Third.