The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-08-22 00:00:00

VARIETIES.

The love of glory can only create a hero ; the contempt
of it deates a great man.
Lord Clarendon derives his descent from Oliver Crom-
well, through his mother, Theresa Parker, who was the
great-great-granddaughter of Frances Cromwell, the Pro-
actor's youngest child.
At the sale of the Pembroke collection of coins, a penny
of Offa, king of Mercia, sold for ten guineas, whilst a
penny of Cynethryth, his queen. produced £3l ; and a
ryal or half-sovereign of Henry VII., so rare that the pre-
sent coin is believed to be the second or third known, sold
or 100 guineas.
The present year has this singularity, that it is divisible
by no fewer than thirty different numbers, viz. 2,3, 4,6, 7,
8,11, 12, 14, 21, 22, 24, 28, 33, 42. 44, 56, 63, 77, 84, 88,
132, 154, 16t1, 231, 264, 308, 462, 616. 924. Next year will
be the square of 43; while we have not had a " square"
year since 1764; and the next which will occur will be 87
years after next year. namely, in 1933.
SINGULARITY IN NITMDERS.—A correspondent of the
Manchester Guardian says, " Perhaps many of your
readers may not have observed, that if you multiply any
given number by itself, say B;—thus 8 et 8 = 64, then
take one from the multiplier and add it to the multi-
plied, the product will always fall short by one of the for-
mer product. Thus 1 from 8= 7, 1 added to 8= 9 ;
7 s 9.= 63. And this rule appears to extend to all num-
bers, large or small."
STAMMERING WlT.—Stammering (says. Coleridge) is
sometimes the cause of a pun. Some one was mentioning
n Lamb's presence the cold-heartedness of the Duke of
Cumberland, in restraining the duchess from running up
to the embrace of her son, whom she had not seen for a
considerable time, and insisting on her receiving him in
state. " How horribly cold it was," said the narrator.
" Yes." said Lamb, in his stammering way, " but you
know he is the Duke of Cu-cum-ber-land."
Once, during the Peninsular war, when the Duke of
Wellington was fast asleep after a hard day's march, he
was suddenly roused by his Aide-de-Camp, with intelli-
gence that the enemy were at hand. The officer who
brought the intelligence was ordered in. " Your detach-
ment has been hotly pursued since morning ?" "It has,
my lord." " Are your men fagged ?" " Completely
worn out." " Then the French must be dead beat too ;
they won't attack to-night. Good night, Sir;" and the
Duke was again asleep before the Aide-de-Camp and the
officer were well out of the tent.
Tun " WHITE LADIES."—Those who are acquainted
with Worcester will recollect a rambling old house in that
town, built on the site of an ancient nunnery, and known
as the " White Ladies." It is famous in history as the
house from which Charles 11. made his escape from
Cromwell's army. There are still remaining parts of the
old nunnery, from one end of which, through a closed
arch, tradition has invariably asserted that a subterranean
passage extended to a crypt in the cathedral, a distance of
at least half a mile. The tradition has been partially con-
firmed by the discovery of traces of the passage in the vel-
ars of houses in the High-street. About 40 years ago an
attempt was made to explore it by Dr. Prattinton, but his
progress was interrupted by noxious air, and from that
time it has been closed. It will now, however, by the
kindness of the proprietor of " White Ladies," be again
opened, and is more systematic process made to unravel
the mystery, under the direction of the British Archaeolo-
gical Association during their ,congress. Excavations
will also be made in the ancient cemetery of the nunnery,
the site of a stone sarcophagus having been ascertained.
The greatest interest is felt in Worcester as to the result
of these proceedings.
IDENTITY OF DIAMOND AND CORE.—Mr. James Nay-
smith, of Bridgewater Foundry, Patricroft, near Man-
chester, has tested, as it were, and proved the fact, of the
dentity of diamond and coke, by the discovery that the
minute laminated crystals or crystlets of coke are capable
of cutting glass with the true diamond clearness of cut,
or without merely scratching. No other setting too is
necessary to prove this fact, than the crumbling consis-
tency of the coke itself in mass ; so that a fragment of
coke, switched at random across a pane of glass in the
sunshine, is sufficient to exhibit not only the depth of
the clear cut, but the prismatic colours in all their purity
and beauty. Ground to impalpable powder, Mr. Nay-
smith, as intimated in the Mining Journal, has found
that coke constitutes what we may call the true " dia-
mond paste " for sharpening razors,—probably, indeed,
f We may venture to say so, the only secret of the dia-
mond pastes so largely advertised, if they merit even so
worthy a supposition. The adamantine properties of
black oxide of manganese, and its peculiar affinities, in-
duced an ingenious chemist to suggest its strong analogy
to carbon : is it possible that it too, when in fragments,
much more firmly crystalline as it is in mass than coke,
may cut glass with practical facility ?—Builder.
MILAN.—This city now the capital of Lombardy, is
known of old foundation. The precise date can scarcely
be ascertained ; but it was an emporium of cheese and
corn before the Christian era. The city was twice razed
to the ground—first by Attila, king of the barbarous
Huns, who invaded the Roman empire in the fifth cen-
tury ; and afterwards by Frederick Barbarossa, emperor
of Germany, who vowed not to leave one stone of it on
another, because the inhabitants—whom he had obliged
to appear before him, by way of satisfaction for a previous
rebellion, with ropes about their necks—had, after his
departure, paraded his own image through their streets,
equipped in a similar fashion. Redbeard—such was the
meaning of the emperor's surname—kept his word ; and
Milan has been taken, with more or less injury, by every
conqueror from Charlemaghe to Napoleon. During the
ages of tilt and tournament, Milan was celebrated for the
manufacture of armour, to the durability and beauty of
which all the historians of those times testify ; but when
knightly fashions passed away before the invention of
gunpowder and the advance of military science, the town
returned to its earlier and more pacific commerce in cheese
and corn, to which later centuries have added silk. Yet
is cathedral, entirely built of snow-white marble, is still
the admiration of all lovers of architecture ; and its traffic
n the commodities we have enumerated confers an almost
equal distinction on Milan in the eyes of the commercial
world.

Loan BYRON'S VANlTY.—During the residence of
Lord Byron at Venice a clerk was sent from the office of
Messrs. Vizard and Co., of Lincoln's Inn, to procure his
ordship's signature to a legal instrument. On his arrival,
the clerk sent a message to the noble poet, who appointed
to receive him on the following morning. Each party was
punctual to the minute. His lordship had dressed him-
self with studious care; and, on the opening of the door
of his apartment, it was evident that he had placed him-
self in what he thought a becoming pose. His right arm
was displayed over the back of a splendid couch, and his
bead was gently supported by the fingers of his left hand.
He bowed slightly as his visitor approached him, and ap-
peared, anxious that his recumbent attitude should remain
undisturbed. After the signing of the deed, the noble
ord made a few inquiries upon the politics of England, in
the tone of a finished exquisite. Some refreshment which
was brought in afforded the messenger an opportunity for
more minute observation. His lordship's hair had been
curled and parted on the forehead ; the collar of his shirt
was thrown back, so that not only the throat, but a con-
siderable portion of his bosom was exposed to view, though
partially conualeel by some fanciful ornament suspended
round the neck. His waistcoat was of costly velvet, and
his legs were enveloped in a superb wrapper. It is to be
regretted that. so great a mind as that of Byron should de-
rive satisfaction from things so trivial and unimportant,
but much more that it was liable to be disturbed by a re-
collection of personal imperfections. In -the above inter-
view, the clerk directed an accidental glance at his lord-
ship's lame foot, when the smile that played upon the
visage of the poet became suddenly converted into a frown.
His whole frame appeared discomposed ; his tone of af-
fected suavity became hard and imperious ; and he called
to an attendant to open the door, with a peevishness sel-
dom exhibited even by the most irritable.—London
Anecdotes.
MELANCHOLY FATE OF A DISCOVERER.—Costigan
was a young Irishman, whose mind was set upon exploring
the Dead Sea, and giving the world the benefit of his
discoveries. It would have been a useful service ; and be
had zeal and devotedness enough for it. But he wanted
either knowledge or prudence ; and he lost bis life in the
adventure, without having left us any additional informa-
tion whatever. He sent a small boat overland, on camels'
backs, to the Lake of Tiberias, and in this he set forth (in
an open boat in the month of July !) with only one at-
tendant—a Maltese servant. They followed the Jordan,
entared the Dead Sea, and reached its southern end, not
without hardship and difficulty. But the fatal struggle
was in returning. The wind did not often favour them ;
and it once blew a squall that they tlxriav overboard what-
ever came to hand : and the first thing that the servant
threw over was their only cask of fresh water. They
were now compelled to row for their lives, to re:lieh the
Jordan before they perished with thirst; but the sti2
scorched them from a cloudless sky, and the air was like
that of a furnace. When Costigan could row no further,
his servant made some coffee from the water of the lake :
and then they lay down in the boat to die. But the man
once more roused himself, and by many efforts brought
the bdat to the head of the lake. They lay helpless for a
whole day on that burning shore, unable to do more than
throw the salt water over each other from time to time.
The next morning, the servant crawled away, in hopes of
reaching Rihhah, which .he did with extreme difficulty.
He sent Costigan's horse down to the shore, with a supply
of water. rile poor young man was alive ; and he was
carried to Jerusalem in the coolness of the night. He
was taken care of in the Latin convent there ; but he died
in two days. During those hours of lingering, he never
spoke of his enterprise; and not a note concerning it was
ever found among his effects. Any knowledge that he
might have gained has perished with him ; and no reliable
nformation could be obtained from his servant. Costi-
gan's grave is in the Armenian burying-ground ; and
there I saw the stone which tells his melancholy story. 1
Ile died in 1835,—Min Martinemes Eastern Travel.

STRICTURES ON THE SEX AND PHYSIOGNOMY OF THE
SPHINX.—The Sphinx has been a much-misrepresented
monster. First, all travellers have, until late, combined
in depriving him of his gender: he is masculine, my good
lady, and not one of your sex at all. Witness his beard,
which has lately been grubbed up. Now a beard is not an
adjunct of even an Egyptian gentlewoman. Next, tourists
have talked twaddle by the bucketful about this Brobdig-
nag's " solemn beauty, mild benignity, serene repose."
All humbug—not one word of truth in the whole of it.
As an honest man, I will tell how he really appears.
View him in profile, take a side-glance at his battered
face, and noseless physiognomy—you have the :maw of a
superannuated baboon in a judge's wig. Now take him
in front, face him, anti behold a beau-ideal of the ghost of
Old Antiquity. Yes, he has braved the brunt of centu-
ries—their characters are written on his brow. Father of
countless sphynxes, he has buried almost all his offspring,
and now seems but awaiting the desolation of his old com-
peers, the pyramids, to conge time, and glide into eter-
nity.—Dublin University Magazine. _ _

SOCIAL INFLUENCE Or CHRISTIANITY.—Supposing a
government to act systematically from motives and on
principles in accordance with the Christian rule, what an
impulse would not be given to the sense of those duties
and responsibilities, on the due discharge of which, simul-
taneously with the exercise of their rights, depends the
welfare of society. The owner of land, the master of the
factory, instead of considering the labourer and the artisan
as mere instruments for raising corn or spinning cotton at
the least possible charge—instead of doling them out their
daily wages only as oil to make the machinery work,
would take an interest in their welfare, provide for their
comforts and recreation, and, above all, would bestow on
them the most precious of all gifts, occasional leisure to
attend to those higher and more enduring interests, which
are equally the patrimony of the poor and the rich, and of
which the abridgment of manual labour, resulting from
the progress of mechanical inventions, would appear pro-
videntially designed to promote the cultivation. This, in
Christian countries, is no doubt already realised in many
a farm and many a loom, where the landlord and the ma-
nufacturer pursue their calling, under a due sense of their
responsibility as the stewards of God, which it is un-
doubtedly intended those who have more should be to
those who have less. But if, in addition to this beneficial
influence, thus individually, yet partially exercised, that of
the public authorities of the state were to be brought into
action, who can say to what a pitch of prosperity a land
thus governed might not attain ? These general conside-
rations may suffice to show in what manner the national
character may be affected by the doctrines acted upon by
governinents in respect to the ' material' interests of a na-
tion, and how intimately the welfare of the labouring
classes is connected with the religious sense entertained,
by their rich employers, of the responsibility attached to
the possession of wealth ; that is, how deep an interest the
people have in the Christianity of their rulers.—Morier's
Letters.

THE NUNNERIES OF ROME.—Some establishments are
so closely kept, that mortal eye can never see the intima
penetra dia. The " Sepulte vive," for example, i.e.,
the buried alive," establishments of this kind. The
young creature, as a part of the ceremonial of admission,
is laid alive in ier coffin ; and, when once admitted, she
is in fact as if dead and buried to her friends ; for she is
never allowed to see again father or mother, brother or
sister ! Once a year. on an appointed day, the parents of
the " buried alive" may attend the nunnery ; and the
young creature within may hear their loved and familiar
voices, but she must not see them ; and, as no kind of
intercourse is ever permitted, she can never know whether
they are living or dead, except as she hears or does not
hear their voices on that day. If a parent has died during
the year, the abbess assembles the nuns ; she tells them
that the parent of one of them is dead, and desires that
all pray for the soul of the departed ; but she never re-
veals the name of the dead, so that all the nuns are left
in a state of agonising suspense till the one day comes
round, and all listen catch the tone of their parent's
voices, and the absence of the longed-for voice tells the
tale of the bereaved recluse ! Such, at least, is the ac-
count the Romans give of these establishments; which
thus seems the climax of cruelty, rending and agonising
the hearts of the inmates under the pretence of a desire
to wean them from the world. But that which concerns
our present subject is the veil of secrecy that covers all
within such establishments as these. There may be—l
must not say that there is—there may possibly be the
most frightful vice—there may be the most ruffian violence
—there may be the veriest climax of profligacy—there
may possibly be all this and the public never know it.
History has recorded the fact, that in the apartments of
the inquisitors of Spain there were found 62 young women,
who had been corrupted and ruined by the inquisitors,
and kept there where the public could never know it.
The French soldiery flung open the Inquisition, and re-
vealed the secret. There is no security in Italy against
the same evil in a very large proportion of the nunneries ;
for every crime of earth and hell may possibly be rife
throughout their cloisters, and the cry of injured inno-
cence and outraged virtue, stifled within the walls, remain 1
unheard by the world without. While we were at Rome,
an abbess of one of the nunneries rushed forth fanatically
and opening the gates, plunged into the fiber, and there
sought in its deep waters to drown the memory and the
remorse of the past ! We were surprised at the pains
taken to deny and conceal this fact, though known and
witnessed by hundreds. The ecclesiastical could not bear
to hearit mentioned.—Rev. Hobart Seymour's Pilgrimage.
THAT FLU I E !—Whatever the faults of our hero [Oliver
Goldsmith], we have seen that at least he was generous—
(borrowers mostly are so). He passes a florist's garden, and
spends the greater part of the loan he has received in pur-
chasing costly roots, which he sends to his uncle. Thus re-
lieved of unphilosophical superfluities, he sets off from
Leyden—one guinea in his pocket, one shirt on his back,
and flute in hand. That flute—we beg pardon for so cur-
sory and slighting a mention of that flute. What was our
friend without it ? That flute, dear mischief! had been
his solace and perdition. Woe, and thrice woe, to any
man constitutionally indolent, with his own way to make
in this hard life, who takes to the flute ! Slow will be
his advance in the world with his fingers on those fatal
stops ! That flute—deadliest of all the friendships the
sizar had made at college—at every new insult he had
received from man, at every fresh disaster he had provo-
ked from fortune, that flute had furnished inauspicious
vent for " blowing off" what otherwise might have been
salutary " excitement." It was as much as Ulysses could
do— what with stopping the ears of his seamen and having
himself lashed to the mast—to save his ship from the
Sirens. But when one is not Ulysses, and one carries a
Siren always about with one in one's pocket, shipwreck
must be the habitual incident of life. With this flute he
then sets off on a toue—the man who had tried in vain to
be a scholar, a clergyman, and a lawyer, and ought now
to be hard at work in qualifying himself for a doctor!
Travelling on foot, the flute—(fiat justitia, for once not
all perfidious)—opens to him the hospitality of humble
roofs. He sees the world to the sound of his own music.
Through Flanders, France, Switzerland, and parts of
Italy, he pursues his wanderings, and boasts that "he
examines mankind and sees both sides of the picture."
So at last he fights (or rather flutes) his way towards
England and steps on shore at Dover. No more flute-
playing, now, poor vagrant. No doors open here to that
disreputable Siren..
him wandering " without friend or acquaintance, without
the knowledge or comfort of one kind face, in the lonely,
terrible London streets Suddenly, from the unpro-
fitable employment of feeling the pulses of patients who
are more likely to be feed by him than to fee, he is
wrenched aside into that of assistant at the academy at
Peckham. " May I die by an anodyne necklace," saith
he (speaking out of his own heart, though in the lips of
another), " but I would rather be under-turnkey at New-
gate !" With the most morbid desire that man ever had
to be treated with respect, our poor friend sets to work to
command it in a way peculiarly his own. "He plays all
kinds of tricks on the servants and the boys (ot which ho
had no lack of return in kind)—tells entertaining stories
—and amuses everybody with his flute." That accursed
flute !—Edinburgh Review.

THE SOCIAL AND MORAL POSITION OF WOMEN IN
CHINA.—Even amongst the females of the highest ranks,
few are found who can read or write ; their education is
confined to the art of embroidery, playing on a horrid
three-stringed guitar, and singing; but the obligation of
obedience to man is early inculcated, and the greater por-
tion of their time is spent in smoking and playing at cards.
The women of the poorer classes have no education, and
can be considered but little better than beasts of burden.
A man of that rink will walk deliberately by his wife's
side, while she totters under a heavy load, and frequently
may she be seen yoked to a plough, while her husband
guides it ! Those of the lower classes who are good-look-
ing, according to Chinese ideas of beauty, are purchased
by the rich at about twelve or fourteen years, for concu-
bines, and are then instructed according to their master's
ideas. The Chinese cannot at all comprehend the Euro-
pean mode of treating ladies with respect or deference,
and being naturally superstitious, attribute to devilish
arts, practised by the fair sex, the just appreciation we en-
tertain of their value ; in short, they consider European
ladies have an influence somewhat similar to that ascribed
to an evil eye by Italian superstition. Chinese domestics
have a very great objection to reside in a European family,
over which a lady presides : and an old tradition of theirs
curiously coincides with their superstition about our fe-
males—' That China should never be conquered until a
woman reigned in the far-West." Some say that this
prophecy was never heard of, until they were conquered
by the army of Queen Victoria. Be this as it may, they
all contend that it is to be found in some of their oldest
works. Many traditions are extant in China relative to
women ; and amongst other legends, the horrible practice
of deforming the female foot is thus said to have com-
menced :—the wife of one of their ancient emperors was
found by her lord and master near the apartment of one of
the great officers of the court, who had the reputation of
being handsome. Receiving from the emperor a torrent
of abuse for her misconduct, she pleaded, in her defence,
that it was not her fault, but that of her feet, which were
so very large, they took her to the spot sorely against her
will. The emperor immediately ordered the forepart of
he: feet to be amputated. Such is the origin of the crip-
pled foot% b which from this time became the fashion. * *
arbarous taste is most unaccountable in
This horrid an... 4
natural foot of woman is
a nation where the un,:liator,ted
high instep is equal to the
the very model of beauty ;
sole rivals that of the
Andalusian, and the arch of the
fogt becomes re-
Arab ; the ancle, which in the distorter.
-*. of course
voltingly thick, is symmetry itself. Such a to,. '
can only be seen among the lower classes. The wa, 6 `e"
male character seems to be completely changed by the
barbarous practice in question ; for the countenance of a
Chinese beauty is always void of animation, and some-
what expressive of the suffering which her ligatured feet
may produce, while the countenances of uncrippled females
are full of vivacity. In the course of conversation with
Lum-Qua (the celebrated Chinese artist), who is an ex-
ceedingly intelligent man, I asked his opinion of an Eng-
lish belle then in Canton, and his reply was truly charac-
teristic of the Chinese ideas of beauty—" Her face is too
round, her eyes too blue, too large ; she's too tall, and too
plump, and feet so large she can walk on them."—Dub-
lin University Magazine.

THE SALE AT STOWE.

(From the Times.)
This magnificent seat of the Duke of Buckingham is
being dismantled of all its beauties. Last week the auc-
tioneer was at work. Under the lofty arch which crowns
the long avenue from Buckingham, and opens the first
view of the splendid Palladian facade, has lately passed a
daily cavalcade which, except in its utter absence of style,
might remind one of the road to Epsom on a Derby day.
Barouches, flys. stage-coaches, " busses" pressed from
the metropolitan service, and every gradation of " trap"
down to the carrier's cart hastily emptied of groceries,
dragged to Wolverton, and filled with the unfortunate
holders of return tickets to town. constituted a dreary
antithesis to the corte'ye which so lately brought Royalty
to Stowe. An elaborately circuitous road conducted the
impatient visitors to the park front, before which, in the
vast amphitheatre formed by its side colonnades, so often
the scene of rural festivities, the enemy encamped. One
might imagine that a great county picnic ::ad suddenly
gathered at Stowe. Even stalls were there. From the
branch of a noble beech hung a huge pair of scales on
which venison was weighed. An advertisement posted on
the front door particularized the very moderate prices at
which a buck, a half, or a quarter might be obtained. In
the distance were fallen trees, timber waggons, and ex-
tempore sawpits. The extensive edifice was a human
hive. •

The house was well set out for the distinguished visi-
tors. Neither Louis XVIIT., nor the Duke of Orleans,
nor Queen Victoria, nor any o,f the great ones of the
earth, whose visits are recorded with pillars and with
trees planted by their own hands, saw Stowe so nobly
arrayed as the British public have seen it this week. The
bride was dressed for the altar, the victim for the sacri-
fice. No thrifty coverings, no ghostly brown holland, no
neat patterned chintzes were there. King Mob had it all
of the best,—the richest damask furniture and the newest
state hangings ; only, as that personage rode literally
roughshod through the palace, and brought with him
cartloads of gravel, there was just an attempt to save the
carpets from excessive trituration. In the state dining-
room were set out 60,000 oz. of gold and silver plate ;
one was involuntarily reminded of the weight, for the
scales were at work there also, and men were weighing
and noting down lot after lot. On a table 20 yards long
and on a dozen sideboards stood forests of vases, cande-
13bra, epergnes, groups, goblets, tankards, and every
other form and variety of plate, from the elaborate de-
signs of Italian artists to the simple elegance of the Old
English school, and the pretentious richness of the last
generation. Among fifty other pieces of historic value,
the gifts of Royal personages and distinguished men,
stood a vase, formed from snuffboxes presented by the
cities and corporations in Ireland in 1779 ; the mace of
the old corporation of Buckingham, purchased by the
Buckingham Conservatives and presented to the Duke as
an everlasting possession ; and the Chandos Testimonial,
for which the gentry and yeomanry of the county lately
subscribed, we believe, £1,500.
The galleries of family portraits and collections of family
memorials seem to connect all the great men and all the
great achievements of modern Europe with the names of
Chandos, Temple, Cobham, Nugent, and Grenville.
But, beyond the somewhat extensive circle of family
affection, the original portraits of famous men and women
here assembled are of the greatest interest and value.
Here, too, is the victor's portion in the spoil of celebrated
sieges, the memento of historical friendships, and the
favourite gem of Royalty or beauty. In the Manuscript-
room is the most extensive and valuable collection of Irish
documents anywhere to be found. For the pictures,
marbles, bronzes, antiques, articles of vertu, curiosities,
china, glass, and wines, we leave them to the auctioneer,
and his catalogue of 5,000 items.
And everything is to be sold. The fetal ticket is every-
where seen. The portrait of Charles Brandon, Duke of
Suffolk, the first founder of the family, by Holbein, is
now lot 51, in the 21st day's sale. That every other an-
cestor should go the hammer, whether by Van Dyk, or
Lely, or Kneller, or Gainsborough, or Reynolds, follows
of course. But there is one item of which no preparation
can remove the shock. The Chandos family is descended
from Francis Brandon, eldest daughter of the above
Charles Brandon, by Mary, daughter of Henry VII., and
Queen Dowager of France. Some time since certain
savages or dillettanti at Bury exhumed that Mary Bran-
don from her grave and took from her head a lock of
silken hair, which thus constitutes a visible link between
the present Duke of Buckingham and the throne of these
realms, to :which he has a reversionary interest. That
lock of silken hair, in its glass case, is now to be sold to
the highest bidder. Can we say more to show the extent
of the devastation ? After this it is idle to mention that
the Temple of Friendship is rifled of its illustrious
tenants, and they are all to be sold. We repeat that
everything goes. In two month's time there will not
remain in that vast house one pewter spoon, one cracked
cup, or spoutless tea-pot, to give a last vestige of hospi-
tality to the last vestige of the ducal interest in Bucking-
hamshire.

The Morning Post states the general circumstances
that have led to the sale :—" The bona fide debts of the
duke are variously estimated, but I believe about one mil-
lion and a half sterling is within the mark, and may be
considered approximating to the true amount. The cre-
ditors for this enormous sum are, as I understand, with
scarcely an exception, amply secured on mortgages, which
extending over every acre of •land on the family estate,
(with the single exception of the Chandos property,)
amounting to about £17,000 per annum, as well as on the
mansion of Stowe itself." The Post represents the Mar-
quis of Chandos, a young man of five-and-twenty, as urg-
ing his father to the most ample sacrifice of the entailed
property, the most direct courses, and the most manly
openness. During the past week Stowe was thronged
with visitors of every degree, from the ducal carriage-
rider to the suburban butcher in his taxed cart. On Mon.
day rough measures were required to exclude several per-
sons who had got in without authority. The articles sold
on the first days have been principally china ware and
objects of vertu. From the terms of the advertise-
ment, it appears that the sale is expected to last, at least,
till after the 25th of September. The Spectator says :
" Our contemporaries do not deal with the cause to which
the disaster is popularly assigned, an inordinate greed af-
ter land, inherited by the present duke from his father, a
desire to grasp at every purchaseable acre, in order to ac-
quire for the ducal demesnes a princely extent of terri-
tory. According to report, it is not through munificence,
but through a species of covetous grasping, that the
princely dignity of Stowe is handed over to the bailiff,
and its ' rural felicity' ends in the squalidest of town mi-
series, a sale by auction."