The Manchester Examiner. — 1848-01-04 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

THE MILLER AND HIS WM.—The mill was finished, and was now grinding away as briskly as it had ever done in the days of its former activity. A steady miller had been en gaged, and now, with his wife and two or three chubby children, inhabited the old millet's cottage close by, which also had been put into thorough repair. The finishing of the mill, and the "hottse-warming" of the millers cottage, had been celebrated by a supper at old Jacob Scantlebury's, at which Marcus Welstead presided, and his three sons were present. * * * He was pleased to see so respectable a thing again on his estate. He WRS glad to see that business came pouring in, too, and after the first toast of prosperity to the mill, he had actually given, " Prosperity to Jacob Scantlebury, and may he continue to grind his corn in the new-risen mill for many a long year." Old Jacob was at first quite knocked down by this unexpected kindness; but begot over it, and in rising to return thanks got into such a rambling and tangled discourse, where all sorts of scriptural metaphors and sayings were turned topsy-turvy, as made much more laughter and merriment than the wittiest fellow in Christendom could have done. "Onions and garlic in the flesh-pots of E-a-gypt" were brought in to illustrate the jolly old state of things to which he had so often looked back. He declared that he ha sate looking on the desolate old building for Many and many a 'lay from his windows, "like a spar on the house top.' till he felt "like a brother of dragoons and a consoler of owls." But "line upon line, and pre-a-cept upon pre-acept," had done the work, as it always would. He had always admired the maxim, " that he that puts his hand to the plough slonld never look l-ack to the harrow," or he would neither plough nor harrow, afid then the miller would have nothing to grind. He was for stroke'npon stroke. and heap upon heap. as Sampson said when he slew a thousand men with the jaw-bone of his ass. lie likened himself and the miller to the two w‘anen who were grinding, and one was taken and the other left. It would soon be his lot to be taken; his grinders were wearing fast away; but he should always reflect with pleasure, after he was dead, that there would he work for the grinders of the fresh generation for nriny a day from the old mill again. He had often felt lone-mne in the old house, when the rnill stood still; hut now the mill-wheel was good company for him, and the water dashing over it as good as a song—to say nothing of the miller himself—when he came out for a bit of a chat in the evening." But if Mr. Jacob was confused, his wife was confusion itself. She occupied the head of the table, and with the exhilaration of the evening, became most talkative. She declared that so solitary had their house been before the mill was inhabited again, that she used to hear the birds snoring in the woods as she sat on the hearth (she had heard the wood-pigeons cooing). There was no Christian creature nearer than Benton, the cooper house (Benton the cooper's house, she never used the possessive Case), and the screaming of Farmer Blaney geese was the only ratonal sound that reached her from morning till night. Now, she saw something entertaining every day. There was always a-going and a-coming from night till morning. Yesterday, old Watkisson horse had dropped down dead al the mill door, and (lied directly. One day there was actually a hawker crying an interesting murder, and the other day three sailors had lost their way in ,the valley, beeanse they had come so far without seeing anybody to ask—The Hall and the Hamlet.  . „ CRITICAL IMPARTIALITY IS rAnis.—A few days after the death of Nourrit, the celebrated French .vocalist, it was a matter of common report in Paris that the editor of a certain musical review waited upon his successor, Duprez, and with a profusion of compliments and apologies intimated to him that Nourrit had been in the regular habit of presenting 2,000 francs a-year to that publication. Duprez was taken somewhat aback by this announcement, but having recovered himself offered to make an annual present to the review of 1,000. "Agreed, sir," said the editor, with a shrug; "but I pledge you my honour that I shall lose 1,000 francs every year by the bargain!" And yet the London journals constantly extract musical criticisms from the French papers!