The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-04-16 00:00:00

SELECTIONS.

THE POOR SCHOLAR'S RETURN AFTER
ORDINATION.

From Carleton's Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry.
No sooner was his ordination completed, than the long
suppressed yearnings after his home and kindred came
upon his spirit with a power that could not be restrained.
He took leave of his friends with a beating heart, and set
out on a delightful summer morning to revisit all that had
been, notwiihstandilig his long absence and severe trials,
-so strongly wrought into his memory and affections. Our
readers may, therefore, suppose him on his journey home,
and permit themselves to be led in imagination to the
-house of his former friend, Lanigan, where we must lay
the scene for the present.
Lanigan's residence has the same comfortable and warm
appearance which always distinguishes the habitation of
the independent and virtuous man. What, t, however, can
the stir, and bustle, and agitation which prevail in it
mean ? The daughters run out to a little mound, or na-
tural terrace, beside the house, and look anxiously to—
wards the road ; then return, and almost immediately ap-
pear again, with the same intense anxiety to catch a
glimpse of some one whom they expect. They look
i
keenly ; but why s it that their disappointment appears
to be attended with such dismay? They go into their fa-
ther's house once more, wringing their hands, and betray-
ing all the symptoms of affliction. Here is their mother,
too, coming to peer into the distance, she is rocking with
-that motion peculiar to Irishwomen when suffering dis-
tress. She places her open hand upon her brows that she
way collect tier sight to a particular spot ; she is blinded
by her tears ; breaks out into a low wail, and returns with
-something like the darkness of despair (,n her counte-
nance. She goes into the house, passes through the kit-
chen, and enters into a bed-room ; seats herself on a chair
beside the bed, and renews her low but bitter wail of sor-
row. Her husband is lying in that state which the pea-
santry know usually precedes the agonies of death.

" For the sake of the Livia' God," said he, on seeing
her, " is there any sign o' them ?"
" Not yet, a suillish ; but they will soon—they must
asthore, be here, an' thin your mind will be asy."
" Oh, Alley, Alley, if you could know what I suffer for
-*aid I'd die widout the priest, you'd pity me!"
" I do pity you astore . but don't be cast down, for I
have my trust in God that he won't desart you in your
'last hour. You did what you could, my heart's pride;
you bent before him night an' morning', and sure the
poor neighbour never wint from your door widout lavin'
his blessin' behind him."
The dying man raised his hands feebly from the bed-
clothes; " Ah !" he exclaimed, " I thought I did a grate
dale, Alley : but now—but now—it appears nothin' to
-what I ought to a' done when I could. Still, avourneen,
my life's not unpleasant when I look back at it; for I
can't remimber that I ever purposely offinded a Livia' mor-
EA • All I want to satisfy me is the priest."
" No, avourneen, you did not ; for it wasn't in you to
offind a child."... _ . _

-----
-" Alley, you'll pardon and forgive me acushla, if ever
—if ever I did what was displasin' to you! An' call in the
-childhre, till I see them about me—l want to have their
forgiveness, too. I know I'll have it—for they .wor good
childhre, an' ever loved me."
The daughters now entered the room, exclaiming-
‘ Ahie dheelish, (beloved father,) Pether is comin' by
himself, but no priest! Blessed Queen of Heaven, what
-will we do! Oh! father darlin', are you to die widout
the Holy Ointment?"
The sick man clasped his bands, looked towards heaven,
and groaned aloud.
Oh, it's hard, this," said be. " It's hard upon me!
. Yet I wont be cast down. I'll trust in my good God ;
I'll trust in his blessed name!"
His wife on hearing that her son was returned without
the priest, sat, with her face shrouded by her apron, weep-
ing in grief that none but they who know the dependence
• which those belonging to her church place in its last rites
• can comprehend. The children appeared almost dis-
Aracted ; their grief had more of that stunning character
which attends unexpected calamity, than of sorrow for
Aane who is gradually drawn from life.
At length the messenger entered the room, and almost
.choked with tears, stated that both priests were absent
.that day at Conference, and would not return till late.
The hitherto moderated grief of the wife arose to a pitch
much wilder than the death of her husband could. under
•:ordinary circumstances occasion. To die without abso-
lution—to pass away into eternity " unanointed, un-
. evealed"—without being purified from the inherent stains
..of humanity —was to her a much deeper affliction than her
final separation from him. She cried in tones of the most
piercing despair, and clapped her hands, as they do who
weep over the dead. Had he died in the calm confidence
of having received the Viaticum, or Sacrament before
-death, his ~decease would have had nothing remarkably
• calamitous in it, beyond usual occurrences of a similar na-
ture. Now the grief was intensely bitter consequence
,of his expected departure without the priest. tam sons

and daughters felt it is forcibly as his wife; their lamenta-
tions were full of the strongest and sharpest agony.
For nearly three hours did they remain in this situation ;
poor Lanigan sinking by degrees into that collapsed state
from which there is no possibility of rallying. He was
merely able to speak, and recognise his family ; but every
moment advanced him, with awful certainty, nearer and
nearer to his end.
A great number of the neighbours were now assembled,
all participating in the awful feeling which predominated,
and anxious to compensate by their prayers for the ab-
sence of that confidence derived by Roman Catholics dur-
ing the approach of death, from the spiritual aid of the
priest. They were all at prayer; the sick room and kit-
chen were crowded with his friends and acquaintances,
many of whom knelt out before the door, and joined with
loud voices in the Rosary which was offered up in his be-
half.
In this crisis were they, when a horseman, dressed in
black, approached the house. Every head was instantly
turned round, with a hope that it might be the parish
priest or his curate ; but, alas ! they were doomed to ex-
perience a fresh disappointment. The stranger, though
clerical enough in his appearance, presented a counte-
nance with which none of them was acquainted. On
glancing at the group who knelt around the door, he ap
neared to understand the melancholy cause which brough
them together.
" How is this?" he exclaimed.
sick or dying ?"
" Poor Misther Lanigan, sir, is jist departin', glory be
to God ! An' what is terrible all out upon himself and
family, he's dyin' widout the priest. They're both at
Conwhirence, sir, and can't come—Mr. Dogherty an' his
curate."
" Make way !" said the stranger, throwing himself off
his horse, and passing quickly through the people. " Show
me to the sick man's room—be quick, my friends—l am
a Catholic clergyman."
In a moment a passage was cleared, and the stranger
found himself beside the bed of death. Grief in the room
was loud and bitter ; but his presence stilled it despite of
what they felt.
" My dear friends," said he, " you know there should
be silence in the apartment of a dying man. For shame !
—for shame! Cease this clamour, it will but distract
him for whom you weep, and prevent him from compos-
ing Isis mind for the great trial that is before him."
" Sir," said Lanigan's wife, seizing his hand in both
hers, and looking distractedly in his face, " are you a
priest ? For heaven's sake tell us I"
" I am," he replied ; " leave the room every one of you.
I hope your husband is not speechless ?"
" Sweet Queen of Heaven, not yet, may her name be
praised! but near it, your Reverence—widn little or no
time ofit."
Whilst they spoke, he was engaged in putt;ng the stole
about his neck, after which he cleared the room, and
commenced hearing Lanigan's confession.
The appearance of a priest, and the consolation it pro-
duced, rallied the powers of life in the benevolent farmer.
He became more collected; made a clear and satisfac-
tory confession ; received the sacrament of Extreme
Unction ; and felt himself able to speak with`tolerable
distinctness and precision. The effects of all this were
astonishing. A placid serenity, full of hope and confidence,
beamed from the pale and worn features of him who was
but a few minutes before in a state of terror altogether in-
describable. When his wife and family, after having been
called in, observed this change, they immediately parti-
cipated in his tranquility. Death had been deprived of its
sting, and grief of its bitterness; their sorrow was still
deep, but it was not darkened by the dread of future mir
sery. They felt for him as a beloved father, a kind hus-
band, and a dear friend, who had lived a virtuous life,
feared God, and who was now about to pass into happiness.
When the rites of the church were administered, and
the family again assembled round the bed, the priest sat
down in a position which enabled him to see the features
of this good man more distinctly.
" I would be glad," said Lanigan, " to know who it is
that God in his goodness has sent to smooth my bed in
death, if it 'ucl be plaisin', Sir, to you to tell me ?"
" Do you remember," replied the priest, "a young lad
whom you met some years ago on his way to Munster, as
a poor scholar ? You and your family were particularly
kind to him ; so kind that he has never since forgotten
your affectionate hospitality."
"We do, your Reverence, we do. A mild, gentle
crathur he was, poor boy. I hope God prospered him."
" You see him now before you," said the priest. " I
am that boy, and I thank God that I can testify, however
slightly, my deep sense of the virtues which you exer-
cised towards me ; although I regret that the occasion is
one of such affliction."

Is there any one here

The farmer raised his eyes and feeble hands towards
heaven. " Praise an' glory to your holy name, good God !"
he exclaimed. "Praise an' glory to your holy name!
Now I know that I'm not forgotten, when you brought
back the little kindness I did that boy for your sake, wid
so many blessings to me in the hour of my affliction an'
sufferin' ! Childher remimber this, now that I'm goin'
to lave yez for ever! Remimber always to help the stran-
ger, an' thim that's poor an' in sorrow. If you do, God
won't forget it to you ; but will bring it back to yez when
you stand in need of it, as he done to me this day. You
see, childhre dear, how small thrifles o' that kind depend
on one another. If I hadn't thought of helpin' his Reve-
rence here when he was young and away from his own, he
wouldn't think of callin upon us this day when he was
passin'.. You see the hand of God is in it childhre :
which it is, indeed, in every thing that passes about us, if
we could only see it as we ought to do. Thin, but I'd
like to look upon your face, Sir, if it's plaisin' to you ? A
little more to the light, Sir. There, I now see you. Ay,
indeed, it's changed for the betther it is—the same mild,
clear countenance, but not sorrowful, as when I seen it
last. Suffer me to put my hand on your head, Sir;
like to bless you before I die, for I can't forget what you
undhertook to do for your parents."

The priest sat near him ; but finding that he was
scarcely able to raise his hand to his head, he knelt down,
and the farmer, before he communicated the blessing, in-
quired—.

" Musha, Sir, may I ax, wor you able to do anything
to help your family as you expected?"
" God," said the priest, " made me the instrument of
raising them from poverty; they are now comfortable and
happy."
"Ay ! Well I knew at the time, an' I said it, that a
blessin' would attind your endayvours. An' now resave

my bleminl. May you never depart from the right way !
May the blessin' of God rest upon you for ever—Amin !
Childhre, I'm gettin' wake ; come near me till, till I bless

you, too, for the last time ! They wor good cl;ildhre, Sir,
Sir—they were ever, an always good to me. an' to their
poor mother, your Reverence; an'—God furgive me if
its a sin !—but I feel a great dale o' my heart an' my love
fixed upon them. But sure, I'm their father, an' God, I
hope, will look over it ! Now, darlins, afore I bless yez,
I ax your forgiveness if ever I was harsher to yez than I
ought!"

The children with a simultaneous movement encircled
his bed, and could not reply for some minutes.

" Never, father darlin' ! Oh, never did you offind us !
Don't speak in that way, or you'll break our hearts; but
forgive us, father asthore ! Oh, forgive an' bless us, an'
don't remimber against us our folly an' disobedience, for
it's only now that we see we waru't towards you as we
ought to be. Forgive us an' pardon us !"

He then made them all kneel around his bed, and with
solemn words, and an impressive manner, placed his
hand upon their heads, and blessed them with a virtuous
father's last blessing.
He then called for his wife, and the scene became not
only more touching, but more elevated. There was an

exultation in her manner, and an expression of vivid hope
in her eye, arising from the fact of her husband having
received, and being soothed by, the rites of her church,
that gave evident proof of the unparalleled attachment

borne—by persons Of her class to the Catholic religion.
The arrival of our hero had been so unexpected, and tl e
terrors of the tender wife for her husband's soul so great,
that the administration of the sacrament almost super-

ceded from her heart every other sensation than that of
devotional triumph. Even now, in the midst of her tears,
that triumph kindled in her eye, with a light that shone in
melancholy beauty upon the bed of death. In propor-
tion, however. as the parting scene—which was to be their
last—began to work with greater power upon her sorrow,
so did this expression gradually fade away. Grief for his
loss resumed its dominion over her heart so strongly, that
their last parting was afflicting even to look upon.
When it was over, Lanigan once more addressed the
priest :
" Now, Sir," he observed, but with great difficulty,
" let me have your blessin' an' your prayers ; an' along

wid that, your Reverence, if you remimber a request
once made to you"—
" I remember it well," replied the priest; "you allude
to the masses which you wished me to say for you, should
I ever receive orders. Make your mind easy on that
point. I not only shall offer up mass for the repose of

your soul, but I can assure you that I have mentioned
you by name in every mass which I celebrated since my
ordination."

He then proceeded to direct the mind of the dying be-
nefactor to such subjects as were best calculated to com-
fort and strengthen him.
. _ .

About day-break the next morning, this man of many
virtues, after struggling rather severely for two hours
preceding his death, passed into eternity, there to enjoy
the recompense of a well-spent life.

A dancer said to a Spartan "You cannot stand on one
leg so long as I can." '• Perhaps not" said the Spartan,
"but any goose can."
ILL-ASSORTED MARRIAGE.—Life has no wretched.
ness equal to an ill-assorted marriage ; it is the sepulchre
of the heart, haunted by the ghost of past affections, and
hopes gone for ever.—Miss Landon.
VOTING BY BALLOT IN THE UNITED STATES.—Much
has been said on the subject of the ballot in America :
some English tourists have declared that the Americans
absolutely adore it. I can only say I did not see any
strong feelings on the subject, and I cannot think the bal-
lot, as the Americans work it, effects the great objects,
secrecy and security against the undue influence of em-
ployers. A merchant or storekeeper can say to his clerk,
" I expect you are going to vote the democratic Whig
ticket. Here it is, tied with a red string, and Mr. Smith
will go with you, so that you can both vote together."
This Mr. Smith, being a stanch Whig, takes care that the
clerk shall vote that ticket, and accordingly puts it into
the voter's hand when at the window, and the crowd
around see on which side he is voting by the red string.
Besides, politics are such a never-ending subject of con-
versation in the States, that every one has frequently to
confess to what party he belongs, and secrecy,cannot be
indulged to any extent. I overheard a " bos (master)
joiner observe to one of his men, " I say, neighbour,
Silas tells me
,you are a locofoco." "No I aint," was
the answer, " I went the whole anti-ticket last fall."
" Well, 1 expect Silas ought to know, as you both board
in the same house." " Why I was locofoco two years
ago, but' I came round when I lined your liner's store."
--Uncle Sane ;Peculiarities,

SECOND EDITION.

Standard-of/ice, Twelve o'clock.

IartER,IND.

Owing to a new arrangement of the Dublin mails, our
usual papers and expresses have not been received ; but
we have been kindly favoured by Mr. Aylward, news-
agent, with the Dublin Evening Pilot of last night, from
which we quote the following :
COURT OF QUEEN'S BENCH.—Tnis DAY.

This being the first day of Term, and it being supposed
that Mr. O'Connell and his co-conspirators would be
called up for judgment. there was a large crowd assem-
bled round the courts from an early hour, and the excite-
ment appeared much greater than during the trials.
Mr. Justice Burton came into court at eleven o'clock,
and the gentlemen who were about being called to the
bar having been sworn before him he retired, and came
into court again at half-past one o'clock, accompanied
by Mr. Justice Perlin, when the usual business of swear-
ing-in the jurys was completed. The court, which was
densely crowded, remaining in breathless silence, evident-
ly expecting that some reference would momentarily be,
made to the case of the Queen against O'Connell.
At this time none of the Crown Counsel appeared in
Court, nor were any of the traversers present. Mr.
Whiteside, Q. C., was the only one of the traversers'
counsel who was in court, and as a large bag with a pile of
briefs lay before him, every one seemed to expect that he
would rise for the purpose of alluding to the State Trials.
Mr. Tomb, Q. C., and Mr. Martley, Q. C., both coun-
sel against the traversers in the State Trials, shortly after
took their places at the table, and every eye was fixed on
them in anticipation.
Mr. Whiteside then rose, but it was only for the purpose
of moving for the appointment of a commissioner of affi-
davits in the town of Newry; and after a few other mo-
tions of no public interest, the Court was adjourned until
to-morrow, without any mention having been made of the
State Trials, to the evident astonishment of all present.
P.S.—A side-bar rule was entered this day, calling upon
the traversers to come up for judgment on Friday.
The sentence, therefore, hangs over until that day,
when no doubt some new legal expedient will be resorted
to, to gain a few more days' delay. Much difference of
opinion prevailed as to the verdict likely to be pronounced,
the prevailing opinion amongst the O'Connellites being
that the arch-traitor would only be called upon to give
bail for his good behaviour, which, however, it was thought
would be a greater punishment to him than imprisonment
or fine, or both.

THE WILL FORGERIES CASE.

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT .- -Y ESTERD AY.

At ten o'clock Mr. Baron Gurney, Mr. Justice Wil-
liams, and Mr. Justice Maule, took their seats in the
Court, and on Barber, Fletcher, and Mrs. Dorey, being
laced in the dock, the latter fainted away, and it was
some time before she recovered. The Attorney-General
was not in attendance, but was represented by Mr. Earle,
Q.C., with whom were Messrs. Clarkson and Bodkin.
Mr. Baron Gurney proceeded to sum up. Having ex-
plained the nature of the indictment and given an outline
of the transaction, which the evidence for the prosecution
went to shew the prisoners had been connected with, he
proceeded to remark on the main features of the case.
At the conclusion of the Learned Judge's charge, the
jury retired to deliberate on the verdict. After an absence
of a quarter of an hour, they returned into court with a
verdict of " Not Guilty" against William Henry Barber,
and " Guilty" against Josua Fletcher and Georgiana
Dorey.

THIRD EDITION.

Standard-office, Three o'clock.

LIVERPOOL COTTON MARKET.—Tars DAY.

Scarcely a demand sufficient to constitute a market.to-
day. The sales may reach 10 or 1200 bales at yesterday's
prices.

LIVERPOOL CORN EXCHANGE, Tnis DAY.

(From Messrs. R. Makin & Sons' Circular.)

The arrivals into this port from Ireland, for the week
ending last night, contain a limited quantity of Wheat,
with a fair supply of Oats and Flour, and a large accession
of Oatmeal ; but of anything coastwise we have little fresh
in for to-day ; and beyond 8191 qrs. of Wheat, chiefly
from various ports in the Mediterranean, with 3340 qrs.
of Egyptian Beans, and 3050 barrels of States Flour, we
have no imports from abroad.

With frequent showers and mild genial weather, the face
of the country in this direction is greatly improved of late ;
which, added to the indifferent accounts repeated_from
Mark-lane, and some cargoes or roreign Wheat, on which
the 16s. duty is in the course of payment, decidedly coun-
teract all extensive operations in any branch of 'the corn
trade here : we have accordingly to note this morning, a
very dull, limited sale for Wheat of all descriptions, and
a decline of full Id. per 701 b. from tne rates of Tuesday
last. English and Irish Flour being also in very slow
request, an abatement of ls. per sack was conceded ; and
foreign, though mostly held at late prices, was rather de-
pressed in value.

Barley, Malt, Beans and Pease, remaining in the same
languid state as before, were all nominally the turn
cheaper.

Oats, in like manner, received little attention, and the
few trivial sales effected were at a reduction of id. per
451bs. from the rates of this day week.

Oatmeal continued to meet some inquiry, but the
holders refusing to give way more than 3d. per load, the
transactions were unimportant.

ARRIVALS OF CORN,

From the gth to the 15th April, 1844, inclusive.

IRE- COAST. ICANADAI 1,0-
LAND. f WISE. I I REIGN. TOTAL.
.----- ----- ------.
W heat .. ... Ors. 1272 l 70 I 8191 8191
Barley Qrs. J 349 63 412
Malt Qrs. 31 1400 1431
Oats Qrs. 7289 1050 8339
Rye Qrs.
Beans Qrs. 115 2340 2455
Pease Qrs. 16 i 16
Shelled BarleyQrs.
Indian Corn. Qrs.
Rapeseed Qrs.
Oatmeal .. Loads 13072 152 i 13224
Flour. ....Sacks 4433 35 4468
Ditto Brls. 6 3050 3056

13224
4468
3056
s. ; Oat-

3050

In' o Runcorn, Ireland ar
meal, 1446 loads ; Flour, 100

RI Coastwise, Oat
sacks.

i, 347 qr:

EXPORTS.—Foreign. Malt, qrs. ; Oats, 115 qrs. ; Pease,
2 qrs. ; Indian Corn. 0 qrs. ; Oatmeal, o loads ; Flour, 15
brls.--Ireland. Wheat, 842 qrs. ; Oats, 5 qrs ; Indian
Corn, qrs. ; Oatmeal, loads ; Flour, sacks,— bets.—
Coastwise. Wheat, 219 qrs. ; Barley, 100 qrs. ; Malt, 2 qrs ;
Oats. 25 qrs. ; Beans, to qrs. ; Pease, 19 qrs. ; Oatmeal, 10
loads ; Flour, 169 sacks ow brls.

Average prices of Grain, for the week ending April 6, 1944.
Wheat 555. sd. i Barley 325. 10. I Oats ..20s. Id. I Rye 335. 9d.
Beans..3os. kid. I Pease.. 31S. ed.

Aggregate average of the six weeks.

Wheat 56s ldTßni•ley 33s 24 Oats 20s Od. Rye 33s 11d..
Beans.. 313. Od. i Pease.. 313. 3d.

Duty on Foreign Grain, &c. this week.

Wheatl6sod Barley 5s ocl I
Oat; 6s Od Rye.. gs 6d
I Beans 1056 d I Pease.. lOs 6d Ind. Corn Os Od Flour.gs yid

Ditto from British Colonies out of Europe.
Wheat.. Is. Od. I Barley.. os. 6d. I Oats .. 2s. Od. Rye.. Is od
Beans 2s. 6d I Pease 2s. od. Ind. Corn os.od. I Flour.. Os nd

Liverpool Averages, week ending gth April,lB44.
Wheat, 1222 qrs., price, 50s. 5d.; Barley, 45 qrs., price,. 275.
Od.; Oats, 186 qrs., price 18s. 7d.; Rye, 50 qrs., price, 375.

GENERAL MISCELLANY.

Sinclair, the celebrated vocalist, arrived at Glasgow on
Monday,, by the Adam Carr, from New-York.
The Great Western steamer has been purchased by the
Southampton Peninsular and Oriental Steam-packet Com-
pany, for £32,000.

The Commisssioners of Northern Lighthouses have in-
timated to the Provost of Wick their selection of Sar-
clet Head as the site of the erection of a lighthouse for the
coast of Caithness.

There were no fewer than 113 couples appeared at the
altar of Hymen, on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday last,
at the Collegiate Church, Manchester, and who, on those
occasions, took each other for " better and for worse.

Since the penny-postage was introduced, the weekly
number ofletters has increased from 1,586,000 to 4,212,060.
For every 100 hundred letters written under the old sys-
tem, there are 270 under the new.

Large and enthusiastic meetings in favour of the Ten
Hours Bill are taking place in Yorkshire. Bradford and
Huddersfield have followed in the wake of Leeds. Mr.
Oastler has attended all.
The first salmon caught this season in the Ribble was
taken on Tuesday week, in the fishery of Sir Henry Bold
Hoghton, Bart., in " Walton Deena." It was sold at 2s.
per lb.

A confirmation of the juvenile nobility and gentry was
held last Thursday morning, in the Chapel Royal, St.
James's, by the Bishop of London. About fifty of the
younger members of noble and distinguished faroilies,were
confirmed by
the noble prelate.
THE POLKA.--It is reported, in " wheel about" cir-
cles, that Lord Brougham has visited Paris, in order to
ascertain whether the new and fashionable, dance, " La
Polka," contains any steps that might led to the Chief
Barony. It can be danced either with, or without garters,
the great object being to bend the kuee.—/Vornin9 C/4"' nie/e,