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THE GERMAN ARTIST IN ROME. 


‘Within translucent halls above the moon, 
Where ether spreads beneath a blue lagoon, 
And faintly ’mid a web of cloud and star 
ia The still earth gleams unfathom'd leagues afar, 
The Past and Future dwell; and both are one, 
" An endless Present that has ne’er begun. 
; The new-born infant dead in Norway’s cold, 
by j The Pharaoh lapt in hieroglyphic gold, 
All fronts that show the pure baptismal ray, 
And all whom Islam bids repent and pray, 
| ‘ And Trajan’s worshippers and Timour's host 
: Tn calm light live on that eternal coast— 
neh, Where change has never urged its fluctuant bark, 
SSeie Nor sunless noon has faded into dark. 
For all that each successive age has seen 
save In this low world is always there serene ; 





very ' And e’en the glow-worm, crush’d by Nimrod’s hoof, 
Lives like the Assyrian king from pain aloof. 
pr 21 
or There all is perfect ever, all is clear : 
jell Bat dimm’d how soon in this our hemisphere ! 
oe When e’en the deed of yester eve grows pale 
"os In twilight thought before this morning’s tale,— 
ne Unless for Sons of Memory, who by lot 
ool Enjoy the bliss of all things else forgot ; 
ool Dwell in the house above, and from that hold 
“it Entrance mankind with wonders manifold ; 
ig And making that has been once more to be 
one Reclothe in foliage bare Oblivion’s trae.” 
+ 6 
ug | So épake a German artist on the height 
= Of Caracalla’s Baths,in still delight, 
a ex Beholding thence the green Campagna’s waste, 
_ Its lon + amen aqueducts and tombs defaced, 
aa And all the hills around from where the gay 
High-towering Tivoli looked in distance grey, 
— Past old Preneste and Frascati’s grove, 
“Y, And far o’er all the Mount of Latin Jove, 
Till from Albano, sloping to the plain, 
The land is bordered by the glittering main. 
All this, while he beheld, his uttered thought 
Seemed but the landscape’s meaning given unsought; 
And he perused the oie things he saw 
As one who read high songs with joyous awe. 
amen I sat beside him and I loved the man, 
— His zeal undoubting, and his life’s pure plan; 
New Bat when once more we met, his dust was laid 
mouth Not far from Shelley’s, in the cypress shade. 
om 
4 EVENING SOLACE. 
pr 1 BY CURRER BELL. 
ay 4 The human heart has hidden treasures, 
2 In secret kept, in silence sealed ; 
une 18 ; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, 
- Whose charms were broken if revealed. 
And days may pass in gay confusion, 
ey on And nights in rosy riot fly, 
orefor While, lost in Fame’s or Wealth’s illusion, 
Y. The memory of the Past may die. 
don. 
But there are hours of lonely musing, 
ban Such as in evening silence come, 


When, soft as birds their pinions closing, 

The heart’s best feelings gather home. 

Then in our souls there seems to languish 

A tender grief that is not wo; 

And thoughts that once wrung tears of anguish, 
Now cause but some mild tears to flow. 


And feelings, once as strong as passions, 
Float softly back—a faded dream; 
Our own sharp grieis and wild sensations, 
The The tale of others’ sufferings seem. 
Oh! when the heart is freshly bleeding, 
~ How longs it for the time to be, 
reet. When through the mist of years receding, 
Its woes but live in reverie! 


saltive And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer, 
ebrile On evening shade and loneliness ; 

— And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer, 
ate @ Feel no untold how strange distress— 
dag Only a deeper impulse given 

cases By lonely hour and dovmenat room, 

pstiody To solemn thoughts that soar to Heaven, 


Seeking a life and world to come. 





—_— 


THE SELF-SEER. 
CHAPTER VII. 










He stood beside me, 
The embodied image of the brightest dream, 
That like a dawn heralds the day of life. 
The shadow of his presence made my world 
A Paradise. All familiar things he touched, 
All common words he spake, become to me 
Like forms and sounds of a di 


The px : i 

Poets liken life to a hurrying fiver—a j iff d 
vali : g Mver—a journey swift, and yet 
~" Ms changing day. They call Time an cuty & destroyer ie 
es se ened friend, but that is only in the bitter irony of sorrow. 
he tens that passing Life and changing Time are only outward show. 
Wheoce Souls who walk the earth,—and there are some, thank God ! 
’ ange cold-hearted sceptics may say of humanity—who never really 
ing hor grow old. They only ripen in wisdom and in all good 
ca and become more fit for the heavenly harvest. In those who are 

moner mould the wearing body weighs down the mind, and the 








iviner world.—SHELLEY. 




























NAW-YORK, SATURDAY, APBUG 14, 1849. 


heart grows old with the frame; but the true angel-spirite are ever 
oung. 

, Thus Leuthold Auerbach, when the dark shadow of forty years was 
nigh overtaking him, was as young in heart as he had been at twenty- 
five. His eye yet brightened at the sight of all beautiful things ; his 
voice had its old gentle tone; and though his figure was bent still lower, 
and Time—in poetical language—had laid his hand on the noble fore- 
head and clustering hair, until every curve of the finely-formed head lay 
bare to the eye of the observer, still Leuthold Auerbach was not an old 
man. Nature, ever even-handed, sometimes atones to those whose want 
of beauty makes them look old in youth, by tenderly keeping off the 
harsher tokens of age. Had the Self-seer exercised this gift, now long 
unused, he would have marvelled that fifteen years should have passed 
over him and left so few traces behind. 

The “ good master’—he still kept that name—sat one day with his 
pupils, now growing into manhood. John and Peter were busily engaged 
in carving types, for all the secrets of his invention were wisely kept by 
Laurentius in his cwn family. They were the sole depositcries of the 
first mysteries of printing, except a servaut, Geinsfleicht, who afterwards 
carrried the secret with him to Mentz, and there promulgated it as his 
own discovery. Tke old man wandered up and down the room; now look- 
ing over the young workmen, now giving orders to his servaut, who was 
busy with the press, and then glancing with pride and pleasure to the 
various testimonies of his success that adorned the room, in the shape of 
printed leaves. é , 

“'Tis useless, grandfather,” at last cried John, threwing down his 
block, “I cannot cut these letters, and as I ain the best workman here 
no one elsecan. You must get some wood-carver, and run the chance of 
his keeping our secret. I will be troubled no longer.”’ 

“ Ah, you were ever an impatient boy,” said the grandfather, shaking 
his head in despair. ‘ Leuthold, dear master, what shall we do ?” 

“‘ The boy speaks wisely, though he meant it not,” answered Leuthold, 
“The work is beyond his skill—it requires an experienced hand.” 

“And whom among the carvers in Haarlem can we trust!—they area 
wild, unprincipled set, who would steal our secret and fly. Come, Lu- 
cia,’’ he continued, as the door opened, and a goons girl entered, “ thou 
hast more sense than either of thy brothers; tell us how we are to get 
this work finished, which John has so angrily given up?” 

Lucia raised her eyes with the same look which was peculiar to her 
in childhood: all else was changed with her. The round, chubby fea- 
tures had become soft, but clearly defined in regular proportion. The 
form had reached the full height of womanhood, childish prettiness was 
merged into perfect beauty—beauty rendered still more loveable by the 
mind that shone through it. Lucia at seventeen was, indeed, the per- 
fection of girlhood; thoughtful, serene, yet with a world of feeling, that 
almost amounted to passion, slumbering in the deep, clear eyes, in the 
tremulous lips. 

**{ do not wonder that John could not carve this delicate work,” she 
said. 
“ Ay, that is the thing! and whom can we trust, my child? A first- 
rate carver would refuse the task, and of those wild young men that 
Peter briugs here, there is not one who is honest.” 

“Yes, grandfather, there is,” answered the girl. “No one can say 
evil of George Surlan, the wood-carver from Ulm.”’ 

“What! merry George, the master-singer, who steals away old hearts 
and young with his laughing eyes and his gay songs ?” 

“ He is gcod as well as merry, grandfather. Iam sure you might 
trust him. And he is a favourite of the master’s, too,” said Lucia, for the 
first time lifting her eyes to Leuthold’s face. 

The two boys burst into a loud laugh. 

‘*You like George because he took your head as a model fer one of his 
carved angels, sister. How vain girls are!” cried John, maliciously. 

Lucia glanced towards the master, whose penetrating gaze was fixed 
on her countenance. She saw it, and blushed deeply. 

“It is not so, indeed !” she murmured. “ You must not think so ill of 
me, dear master.” And she suddenly took Leuthold’s hard with a child- 
like air, as if deprecating reproach. 

“ Lucia is never vain,” said Leuthold, gently, as he drew her towards 
him with the frank familiarity which ever marked his intercourse with 
the whole family, and smoothed her beautiful hair, as a father or elder 
brother might have done. It was a token of regard that was customary 
between them; and yet Lucia seemed to tremble and change coleur, even 
while asmile of radiant happiness hovered round her lips. 

“ Merry George might have kuown we were talking about him,” cried 
John, who had taken refuge at the window, in a sallen fit. ‘ Look, there 
he is, coming hither! Now, grandfather, you can put him in my place, 
as Lucia answers for his honesty so boldly.” 

“What shall we do, good friend?” said the old man, irresolutely, 
turning to Leuthold, who was, though Laurentius never suspected the 
fact, the ruler of all his actions, having over him the indescribable intla- 
ence of a strong mind over a weak one. 

“I think,” said the master, “ that George world answer thy purpose, 
Laurentius, Lucia has spoken truly ; he is a clever and houest youth, 
the son of a worthy father, whom I knew well. Thou mayst, indeed, 
trust him.” 

“The master is always right. I will go and fetch George hither,” said 
Peter; and meeting no opposition, he departed. 

Presently George Surlan entered. He was a youth slenderly and 
gracefully made, whose bright blue eyes and sunny curling hair caused 
him to look much younger than he really was. His dress was that of a 
student, but light and gay, and he wore on his shoulder a sort of badge, 
being a rude representation of King David playing the harp. This was 
the distinctive mark of the order of Master-singers, a brotherhood which 
rose up in Germany after the Minne-singers had passed away, and which 
united the musical claracter of the latter with many rules and rites ap- 
poecling to masonic. To this fraternity of minstrels, which included 
men of all ranks, and was at one time almost universal over Germany, 
the young wood-carver belonged. 

The master-singer lifted his cap from his fair curls, and looked with 
much surprise round the room, which was, according to report, the scene 
of Coster’s mysterious and secret labours. He made a respectful rever- 
ence to the old man, and to Leuthold, and then, as his quick eye caught 
that of the young maiden, it brightened with pleasure. 

‘They tell me you are a true, upright youth, as well as a good carver,” 
abruptly began Laurentius. “ J have sent for you to aid us, George Sur- 
pa and I am going to trust you with agreatsecret. Herr Auerbach says 

may. 

The young man looked gratefuliy towards the master, and replied— 

“ He shall have no cause to repent his goodness. Whatcan I do?” 

And thereupon Laurentius began, in a long harangue, to explain the 
necessity of secresy, and the solemn promise that he would be expected 
to make regarding the work he was todo. The master-singer listened 
rather impatiently ; but Leuthold took advantage of a pause in the dis- 
course to tell all succinctly. 

“Thou must promise te keep the secret, aud I know thou didst never 
fail in thy word, I answer for thee, and so does this child, it seems,” said 
Leuthold, smiling at Lucia. 

“ Then I will engage to do anything in the wide world,” cried George 





OFFICE, NO. 3 BARCLAY-STREET . 








Surlan earnestly, clasping the master’s hand, though his beaming eyes 
sought the sweet face of Lucia. t 

She answered him with a frank and kindly smile; but she did not 
droop her long lashes—she did not blush. Alas! while the young man’s 
whole sou! was laid at her feet, as it were—while he watched her every 
movement with the lingering fondness that only springs from love, she 
looked carelessly on him, unconscious of the treasure thus thrown away. 
To the dreaming maiden, wholly absorbed in her inner world of romance, 
there was but one on earth who appeared noblg, wise, worthy to be the 
ideal of girlhood’s wildest devotion, and that‘one was Leut Auer- 
bach. 

Woman's love is far more spiritualised than man’s, inasmuch as it is of- 
ten entirely independent of outward beauty. A true-hearted woman's 
nature is fall of the quality called hero-worship, and this, mingled with 
the all-pervading necessity of loving. causes her to be swayed irresistibly 
by the power of superior intellect. Hew many a fanciful girl has lav- 
ished a world of fondness upon some poet-idol, eck pemwere her eyes 
have never beheld, and whom yet she worships as mind worships mind, 
with a love which though only ideal, needs but a touch to exalt it into 
the intensity of woman's devotion! How oiten, too, do we see some 
beautiful and high-minded woman, pour out the whole riches of her lov- 
ing heart upor one to whom Nature has given nothing but the great spell 
to win it all—a noble soul! She passes over all external disadvantages 
of age or person. She sees but the immortal spirit dwelling therein ; 
and it is ever beautiful, ever young. Her soul is bowed down before it 
in joyful humility, and where she worships, she loves, too, with an earn 
estuess, intensity, aud purity, which shadow dimly forth that which the 
angels bear to Divinity itself. Oh, how little can men know of a love 
like this ! 

Therefore, let it not be thought strange if Leuthold had thus uncon- 
sciously awakened such deep and absorbing feelings in the heart of a 
young girl like Lucia. The world scofis at the romance of girlhood. 
Nay, women themselves, grown aged and matronly, come in time to look 
back deridingly on their own young feelings, and say how idle and fool- 
ish they were once. And yet this first fresh dream, be it of love or poesy, 
is one of the few realities of life, not the less true because we outgrow it 
in time, Others treading after us, again pass through that sunny 0 
and when we turn and see them, with their innocent romance and eir 
single-hearted confidence, we remember our own old days, and think 
that there was some truth in those dreams after all. 

Sweet, maidenly, and oe high-souled Lucia, with the heart of a wo- 
man and the spirit of a child, our eyes grow dim while we picture thee ; 
how thou didst grow up like a pure lily among meaner flowers, and fe 
gradually the carelessness of childhood merge into the dreams of girl 
hood ; how thon didst love to sit alone, to trace dim regions in clou > 
to listen to invisible music in the wind, to watch the stars, until they 
seenied mysterious éyes looking down on thee, while vague feelings of 
delicious sadness stole over thee, and thy tears flowed, though not for 
sorrow! Poorchild! who didst ask of the winds, the clouds, the stars, 
what was the strange power that so moved thee, and understoodest not 
the answer that they bore,—“ Maiden, it is Love!” 


CHAPTER VIII. 
Love is sweet, 
Given or returued.—SHELLEY. 

The story of Love is everywhere the same. Why should we enlarge on 
the passing daily events in this Flemish house of four hundred years ago? 
Human hearts beat now as they did then, and are alike swayed by doubts, 
and fears, and hopes, with love reigning above all. Thou, youth of mo- 
dern days, sighing in vain for some cold-hearted damsel ; thou dreaming 
maiden, who .worshippest one above all, calling this devotion, respect, 
admiration—anything but love ; and thou, calm philosopher, who hast 
sutiered and art no more of the world, ye may see in these visions of the 
past but the reflex of your own hearts. 

Day after day glided on, and all was outward calm in the dwelling of 
Laurentius Coster. The young master-singer became an inmate of the 
family, and all were glad of this. George Surlan brought sunshine wher- 
ever he went, with his blithe spirit and kindly heart. He was not like 
those moody, sentimental lovers, always sighing and pining; still less was 
he addicted to those fantastic moods which modern poetry has made so 
interesting, ever changing from gloomy misanthropy to hollow mirth. 
Though he loved Lucia as the apple of bis eye, and though as yet he loved 
in vain, yet he did not lose hope. It was his happiness to be near her, 
to render her all those kindly offices which brothers scorn. When she 
walked through her well tended garden and received the daily gift of 
flowers, or found al! sorts of beautifully carved ornaments made je. own, 
as if by magic, Lucia thanked ber friend with a pleasant smile, never 
dreaming in her innocence of the love he bore her. Poor George! he 
tried to be contented with such a light guerdon, and consoled himselt 
with the thought that, perhaps, Lucia was too young to love any one, 
and a still untouched heart might surely be won in time; but after a sea- 
son, he learned how vain was that comfort. Thus it chanced that the dis- 
covery came. 

Usually, in the long winter evenings, the family gathered together in 
the large hall. Very solemn these meetings had used to be, while Lau- 
rentius held forth to the sleepy children on the events of his young days 
intermingled with horrible modern stories ot the deeds of Ziska and John 
Huss, whose histories had reached the good city of Haarlem with all the 
embellishments of a fairy tale. When Leuthold came, these stories were 
a little discontinued, and, in their stead, the master’s low sweet voice 
might be heard, telling various tales of bis journeyings far and wide, of 
good dee@ done in humble homes, of noble heroism that the world knew 
not, of suffering endured and wrong overcome,—all that could lead young 
spirits onward in the right path.. At such times the little Lucia always 
sat at Leuthold’s feet, with his hand resting on her soft curls ; and, as 
she grew older, she still kept her place beside him. But the soft eyes 
were less often raised to bis face, and she usually listened in silence, her 
fingers busied with some ig of maiden’s work. Now and then, when 
Leuthold turned and saw her thas, a vision of the long vanished past flit- 
ted across his mind ; but when, at a sudden pause in the tale, he saw the 
enthusiastic girl listening with clasped hands and heaving breast, the pass- 
ing fancy vanished. Lucia was not the calm, reserved Hilda. More beau- 
tiful, ten thousand times ; perchance, more winning: but not that ideal of 
youth’s love. a 

When, alternating with Leuthold’s stories, came the fantastic lays of 
the young master-singer, Lucia at first did not like the change; but gra- 
dually, as the musician's own feelings deepened, his songs took a serious 
tone. His mirthful ditties were transformed into the breathings of love, 
a love new as pleasant to the maiden; for Leathold in all his histories 
never touched on that one subject. How could he? §8o while the min- 
strel poured out his feelings under a thin veil, his strains touched Lucia, 
and she listened with an interest which gave new inspirations to the mas- 
ter-singer. 

One night George sang an old German tale :— 

“There was once a young princess, whom many kings and knights wooed. 
It was in the ancieut times of Scandinavian warfare, when the strongest 
arm and the fiercest spirit were highest esteemed by men. Some of her 
suitors brought precious furs, and laid them at her feet in token of 










































































their prowess in the chase ; others came in their bri ht ringing armour, 
aod dowel her treasures of gold ; and a few cast balive tat, with fierce 
looks, the heads of slain enemies, to be the footstool of a conqueror’s bride. 
Bat the maiden turned away from all ; and their love grew fierce anger, 
and they all joined in hate towards the king her father, and would have 
riven him from his throne. But there stood before the crownless king, 8 
counsellor of whom no one had dreamed,—a poor and wise man, He 
had dwelt in the "egg all his days unnotic and uncared for, an 
said to the monarch,— 

“* My hand is feebie, and has never grasped a spear, yet I can tell - 
stars in their courses. My voice is low, it has never been heard in — e, 
yet it can teach men wisdom. My body is frail, but I have an a 
my soul. Let me go he among thy people, and teach them how 

ight e enemy.’ ; 
Soran whieh orange 4 and his words were like thunders, and 
he ruled the hearts of men against their will, until the wrong was con- 
quered and the land was at rest. The king said unto him,— 

“* Thou shalt have the reward which is greatest of all : thou shalt be 
my son, O poor wise man!’ 

“ Bat the other answered,— 


“*How can it be? 1am lowly in form ; my youth is gone by; I have | ¥ 


neither strength to fight, nor beauty to win love. The princess will not 
on me.’ ‘ 4 
“ pany ¢ looked sorrowfully to where the throned maiden sat in her 
loveliness, as one would look at the sphered moon, in hopeless adoration, 
Then the princess came down from her seat: her breast heaved, her 
cheek burned, but it was not with pride ; and she said softly to him,— 
“ «Thou art very wise, but thou knowest not the secrets of a woman’s 
heart. When the strong men came and laid their tributes before me, I 
thought of a voice that had taught me in my childood ; and I turned from 
them as from the warring beasts of the field. When the noble and beau- 
tiful bent before me, a face was in my sight more dear, more lovely 
than all, for in it shone the glorious and immortal mind! Dost thou know 
my heart !’ Thenthe maiden laid her arms rvund his neck and whispered, 
‘Let me love thee, thou noblest of all. If thou art poor, I will be thy 
riches; if thou art growing old, I will bring back thy youth. To me thou 
art all far, all young; thou art my glory, my delight, my pride? : 

The miastrel paused in his song, and glanced at Lucia. She sat with 
her head bent forward; her quivering lips pale with emotion, and her 
eyes fixed with a look full of the deepest and most adoring love—not, 
om on him who sang, but on Leuthold! In another moment she had burst 
into tears, and fled from the room. i J 

“ Thou shouldst not sing such doleful ballads to poor simple maidens, 
George,” said Laurentius, reproachfully. ‘ Doubtless the child was ter- 
rified at the horrible tales of war, and battle, and human heads as foot- 
stools. TT’ is very wrong; is it not, Leuthold ?” ! : 

The master lifted up his head ; he, too had listened with a trembling 
riven heart to the tale of love—it had spoken to him of the mournful past. 
George Surlan noticed that his face was paler than ordinary, and that 
tears glistened on his eyelashes, and the young lover’s bosom was rent 
with jealousy. He dashed his instrument to the floor, and went out into 
the garden. 

” Gow the boy is angry, too,” querulously cried old Laurentius. ‘What 
must be done with these wild young spirits ? Go after him, dear Leuthold, 
and bring him hither again.” ; ‘ : 

But George would not come. The master found him walking hastily 
by the side of the lake. His anger had passed away, but was succeeded 
by sadness. It sat strangely enough on that bright face, hitherto so full 
of the unclouded gaiety of youth. Leuthold was touched to the heart ; 
in a moment he penetrated the young man’s loye-secret; and his tone, 
which he had meant to make calm and severe, now grew gentle and al- 
most tremulous in its sympathy. de te ; 

“What ails thee, Gearge?” he éaid, laying his hand on the master- 
singer’sarm. ‘“ Why wert thou angry, and why art thou now so sad ?” 

“It is nothing—nothing,” and George turned away. There would 
have been reproach, nay, wrath, in his look ; but he met the calm, ear- 
nest eyes of Leuthold, and the storm was lulled. ‘“ Leave me, good mas- 

ter, I will return soon.” 

But Leuthold still kept his hold, and spoke gently and gravely,— 

“ George Surlan, when I stood by thy father’s deathbed at Ulm, he 

rayed me to watch over thee, and told thee always to listen to my words. 
Dear George, wilt thou hear me, when I tell thee what Iread in thy 
heart now?” ; 

The brow of the master-singer crimsoned, but he said nothing. Leu- 
thold went on :— 

“There is a secret there. Thou art wroth at the careless words of 
Laurentius, because thou lovest our sweet Lucia.” 

‘Our sweet Lucia!’ repeated the young man, bitterly. “ Yes, Ido love 

ia—thy Lucia!” 
eT home ena so—I have wished so, and I am sure she loves thee,”’ 
answered Leuthold, unconscious of the other’s meaning. ee 

“ Thou art very kind, good master. Why art thou so certain of the 
maiden’s heart?” : 

“Does she not always smile upon thee? Did she not weep at thy 
song? I saw not her face, but I knew it was so. Surely she loves thee, 
George ?” . - , woth 

“Qh, dear master, have pity on me ; thou wilt drive me mad !” cried 
the other, impetuously. ‘Thou wert ever kind; why dost thou taunt 
me thus? Lucia loves me not, and thou knowest it well.” , 

“Not so ; it is impossible! Whom but thee could this timid maiden 
love. who has been brought up like a young bird in its hidden nest?” 

«“ Thee—thee, Leathold Auerbach, Lucia loves thee!” ; 

The red blood rushed to the master’s face, and then faded away into a 

ul smile. : 
mries art dreaming, r boy!” he said, gently. “ Throughout life I 
have never known the blessing of woman’s love; it was not for me! and 
now that I am growing old, that this fair blooming child should love one 
like me, seest thou not it is impossible ?” 

George looked amazed. ; 

“And can it be that thou knewest it not?—that thou dost not love 

” 
ne love my sweet pupil, who has been unto me like a young sister—a 
daughter! I never had a dream so wild as this.” 

«Phen thou lovest another, or thou hast loved. Tell me all, dear mas- 
ter,” eagerly cried the young man. Buthe im ined not the effect his 
words would produce on Leuthold, who staggered as if struck by a sud- 
den blow, and leaned against a tree forsupport. George Surlan, terrified 
and awed, could not utter a word. At last the master said slowly, and 
with effort,— , A . 

“Speak of thisno more. Let it vanish alike from thy memory and from 
thy tongue. It is a secret between my own heart and God. Now leave 
me.” ; 

The young musician, deeply touched, pressed his hand and departed. 
Leuthold stood alone by the shore of the gloomy lake. A thick wintry 
mist had crept over it; the chill penetrated every fibre of his slight, deli- 
cate frame, but he felt it not. The long-slumbering feelings of human pas- 
sion had once more awoke in his nature, and he trembled beneath them. 
His soul was an autumn tree, through whose boughs the same breezes 
which had once only produced pleasant music, now pass,—tearing to the 
earth the same leaves with which they had erst harmlessly played. The 
ideal of love which he had vainly set up in youth again revived’in Leu- 
thold’s spirit. Not that another filled the = of her around whom he 
had woven that ideal, but yet his soul thrilled to the sweetness of being 
the object of woman's love. ; ‘ ‘ 

The words of George Surlan, “ Lucia loves thee—only thee,” rang in 
the ears of Leuthold with a strange melody. He began to think over 
the words, the looks of the young maiden, since she had grown from 
childhood unto girlhood ; her deep, loving eyes rose up before him; he 
remembered her silent attention to all he said; her care for all things he 
loved; the deep sympathy, mingled with reverence, with which she 
strove to teach her own mind to follow his in its wildest flights. All 
these things dawned upon him in a new light, with a sweetness of which 
he was himself hardly conscious. 

Oh, ye lonely-hearted ones, into whose darkness has suddenly broken 
a cheering ray, on whom the unlooked-for sense of being loved has sto- 
len like a pleasant perfume in the desert, deem him not faithless to the 
one only true love that the human beart can feel! Scorn him not, if in 
Leuthold’s dreams that night the bitter memories of the past grew less 
keen; that the furms of Hilda, the hopelessly beloved one, and of Lucia, 
the young, devoted dreamer, mingled into one. 


CHAPTER IX. 


To suffer woes that Hope thinks infinite, 
Toforgive wrongs darker than death or night, 
To love and bear, to hope till Hope create 


From its own wreck the hing it contemplates,— 
This is thy glory '!—Sue.iey. 


Long ere the twilight of a winter morning dawned Leuthold arose, 
and lighting his lamp strove to banish by study the wayward fantasies of 


But it was in vain. A spirit had been iaised within him 


which no such power could lay. His thouglits turned still to that vague 
phantom of Lucia’s love which had so suddenly risen up in his i - 
tion. To drive it away he thought of himself,—of the twenty years’ 
barrier between that fair young maiden, and the man over whom time 
and sorrow had ijaid such a heavy hand. But still the moaning wind 
seemed to breathe in Lucia’s voice the words of that old lay,— Let me 
love thee, and I will bring back thy youth.” 

Again, as ina time lovg gone by, there came to Leuthold the wild 
yearning to behold himsel!,—to exercise the strange gift which had once 
so strongly influenced his life. The angel of his destiny seemed once 
more near him, and thoughts and feelings to which he had been unused 
during his life of action in the world without, again thronged upon the 
mind of the dreamer. The Self-seer felt upon him the warning of his 
coming power. 

“ O thou angel of my fate!” cried Leuthold, “thou readest my heart,— 
all its weakness, all its strength. Thou seest that it is not through vain 
desire or selfish pride that I seek to know myself as I am. It may be 
that my desolate heart shall still be gladdened and grow young in the 
sunshine of woman’s love; a tender, wife-like hand, may yet smoothe 
away the thick-gathered furrows of this faded brow; children’s kisses 
et rekindle the roses of these pale lips; I may live the life I pictured 
in youth’s dreams, and die at piece in my own household! But if not, 
oh, let me know my owa spirit and do that which is right!” 

As the Self-seer, in the earnestness of his concentrated soul, prayed 
thus, the lamp died away and his chamber grew dark. The wind rose, 
and the waves of the lake under his window gave forth a hollow murmar 
which lulled his senses. Gradually torpor oppressed him, and he felt 
no more, until in the misty yet full daylight the divided soul beheld its 
other self, wrapped in the peaceful, child-like repose, into which Leu- 
thold had sunk when the spell came upon him. 

Once more, after a lapse of time which on earth would be numbered 
as the fourth of a man’s life, the shadowy essence looked upon its bodily 
form-—the immortal and unchangeable spirit beheld what was perishable 
as the flowers of the field. Even as we view a fading garment did the 
Presence look upon the lineaments of his earthly vesture. The face was 
not yet disfigured by the touch ef age, because in its calm repose a 
child-like sweetness rested on it; but the freshness of youth was not 
there. Even greater than the tokens of natural decay were the signs of 
quick-coming decline produced by the ever-active mind. When once 
age came it would not be with slow crawl, but with lightning foot-step. 
As the Jow red sunbeam fell on his face, Leuthold awoke. The Sha- 
dow of his soul followed him as he descended to the general hall. His 
step grew firm, and a brightness was in his eyes that resembled the face 
of the student of Leipsic in years gone by. Only a look of fear darkev- 
ed it as George Surlan met the master, with a silent, expressive grasp of 
the hand, and an affectionate inquiring gaze. As Leuthold, with a pass- 
ing answer, turned away from the master-singer, the Phantom read in 
his troubled air the conflict that had already begun in that soul, hith- 
erto so calm, so clear; and a painful thrill quivered through its pure and 
spiritual being. 

When Lucia, timidly, and yet with inconceivable tenderness, took the 
master’s hand, she was startled by the earnestness of his look. It spoke 
a sudden awakening to the powor of her beauty, a something of rever- 
ence for the woman mingled with affection towards the child. That day 
she did not linger at her place by Leuthold’s side, but went away to 
the farthest nook, though she felt that his eyes followed her even there. 
The Spirit saw it too, and saw also how that those clear eyes could no 
longer meet those of the young wood-carver, who plied his work in si- 
lence and hopeless pain. 

As the day advanced Leuthold grew restless. He went to the shore 
of the lake and wandered about, sometimes idly watching the dusky 
clouds that careered over the sky in the majesty of winter’s storms, and 
then again walking with his eyes cast down in deep meditation. The 
Spirit hovered over him, and listened to the voice within his soul, and 
which cried louder the more it was suppressed. 

“ My heart is still young,” Leuthold murmured, “though my years are 
gathering fast behind me. What matters that? If Lucia loves me, why 
should I count my years? But then her love is the love of a child, will 
it endure when age comes, when my frame is shattered and my mind 
enfeebled, while she is still blooming and young? Shall I bind her to 
me, then, with chilling fetters of duty, and darken her life by uniting it 
with mine? Would this be a meet return for her love? No, such love 
is not for me; I will forget the dream.” 

But while he endeavoured to grow firm, the Shadow saw that the strug- 
gle threw the feebleness of added years over Leuthold’s frame. Again 
he spoke, but only in his heart; his lips were dumb. 

“T am sinful; I think only of myself, and remember not that young 





heart of him who struggles with hopeless love. Shame, that I could not 
read therein the echo of my own sorrow! that I should dream of piercin 
another’s breast with the same arrow that almost drank the life-blo 
of my own ! And yet, if Lucia loves me—— But I will think no 
more.” 

And Leuthold with a troubled eye gazed over the dark lake, whose 
tossing waves seemed restless as his own spirit. A little boat, in which 
he often loved to glide over its surface, lay fastened to the willows at his 
feet, heaving idly to and fro. An irresistible desire made him enter it, 
and he was soon drifting over the wide lake alone. The ever-attendant 
Shadow beheld his face as he sat watching the waves, which grew high- 
er and whiter, until the tiny vessel danced upon them like a feather. 
The clouds thickened, and their gloom was reflected in Leuthold’s coun- 
tenance. Its expression was that of passionless, hopeless desolation, 
mingled with a stern firmness, that seemed to set the elements at defiance. 
Darker and darker grew the waves, the wintry night came down, and 
the lake boiled like acaldron. The boat was drifted, Leuthold knew 
not whither, but still he sat immovable; he heard voices uttering his 
name, but he thought they were only the spirits of the tempest calling 
kim on to death. At last a wave rose; it curled higher, higher ; 
it broke, and the little boat went down. 


When Leuthold awoke to life he found himself in his own chamber, 
with kind and well-known faces bending over him. One, dearest and 
kindest of all, seemed to him like an angel from the world beyond the 
grave. He lifted his heavy eyelids and closed them again, but not 
before a cry of joy had rung in his ears: it was the voice of Lucia. 

“He lives! helives! Leuthold! my Leuthold !” she murmured; and, 
half-dreaming as he was, the master felt her warm tears falling one after 
the other on his hand, on his brow. 

_ “ Lucia! my Lucia!” he was about to echo; whe he heard a heavy 
sigh, and saw in the face of George Surlan the most agonised despair. 
At once the knowledge of all he had learned in his double existence 
came upon the Self-seer, and with it rushed the back memories of his 
own youth. The noble heart which had suffered so much, refused to in- 
flict on that of another alike pang. The moment passed by and the vic- 
tory was won. 

During the long days and weeks of sickness that succeeded, that sweet, 
loving face was continually hovering near him. He knew that one word 
of his would awaken Lucia to the full consciousness of feelings now 
scarce developed, would enrich him with the whole treasure of her 
young love. Yet he never breathed that word. He pondered how he 
might cause the dream of girlhood to remain a dream for ever, nor deepen 
into the intensity of woman’s love. 

One day, as they sat alone together, Leuthold said to the maiden, who 
had been lavishing on him various gentle offices, now continued more 
through habit than necessity,— 

“ Thou art a tender nurse, Lucia,—almost like a grown woman, as 
thou wilt be soon, dear child. And yet it seems but a day since I came 
hither, and the little girl bade me welcome so shyly. How pleasant it 
has been for me to find a home so full of love for the lonely wayfarer 
——_ life!” 

“ Was that love, then, new to thee, good master ?” 
“ Did not every one love thee as we ?”’ 

A deep sadness overspread Leuthold’s face. 

“Dear child,” he said, « there is in every heart some hidden sorrow. I 
have never spoken of my youth, because there fell on ita dark shadow 
that will never pass away.” 

“ Thou hast told me of thy mother—of her death.” 

‘‘ There are griefs worse than death, Lucia.” 

The girl’s lips trembled, and she turned away her face as she said— 

“ There is a sorrow of which I have heard in old tales—of which 
George sings—the sorrow of love.” 

“Even so,” returned Leuthold ; and his voice sunk almos: inaudibly, 
as if he were talking to himself rather than to her. “I loved; for years 
this love was the dream of my boyhood, the strength of my manhood, 
my hope, my joy, my very life, and it was in vain !” 

“Did she die?” asked Lucia, in tones as low as his own. 

“Yes, to me; for she loved me not! Therefore has my life been lone- 
ly, and will be to the end.” 

“Not so!” tremblingly murmured Lucia. “A change may come. 
Thou mayst yet find some true loving heart which will be precious in 
thy sight.” 


answered the girl. 














“ Lucia,” answered the master, “there are two kinds of love, 


deep, esrnest passion of a maturer age, strengthened year 
until it has become one with life itself—whic 
I have lived, so shall I die, 
of old!” 

Leuthold had nerved himself thus far; he had, with desperate calm. 
ness, laid bare his heart, and the secret of his life had, for the first time 
ae ig his lips. He could say no more; he covered his 4 
ands, and leaned back exhausted. He did not see—perha 


after year 
can never change. 
true to that lost, yet most precious loys 


sitw 
he did not—the changes in Lucia’s face. She grow deadly pale, sey 
pressed her hand upon her heart, as though there was a sharp pain 


there. In that moment the air-palace crumbied into dust, the pubbje 
burst, the dream was gone! Womanly dignity, not unmixed with shame 
came to give her calmness and strength; and when she again looked up. 
her whole mien was changed. P, 

“ I thank thee, Leuthold, for thus trusting me, though I am only a 
child,” she said. ‘“ The tale of thy sorrows shall never pass my lips.” 

“ Be it so, dear Lucia,” the master answered, in a faint tone. « Only 
let it rest in thy memory; and when, in thy coming years of womanhood 
a true heart lays at thy feetits whole wealth of love, cast it not from thee. 
Now, my child, leave me, for 1 am weary and sad, and [ would fain rest 
awhile.’ 

Lucia rose, and silently arranged the cushions of bis chair, as she had 
done since his sickness. She looked one moment of intense love on 
the pale, sunken face, that lay back with closed eyes on the pillow, and 
said, softly,— ; 

“ The Virgin and all good saints comfort thee, my friend, my teacher 
my more than father !”” : 

Leuthold felt her warm lips rest for a moment on his forehead, like the 
kiss of a spirit in his dreams, and Lucia was gone. 

It was, though she knew it not, the last farewell on earth between 
these twain. Atthe dawn of morning Leuthold went forth, a second 
time, as a wanderer over the wide world. Old Laurentius heard and 
talked of the ingratitude of man, and trembled for his precious secret ; 
Lucia wept over the sorrow-worn spirit which could nowhere find rest; 
but George knew the trath, and remembered, with almost adoring rever- 
ence, the noble self-denying one who, in the midst of his own darkness, 
had made the path of others bright. 

To be concluded next week. 





MILTON’S COURTING. 


THE MAIDSVY AND MARRIED LIFE OF MARY POWELL, AFTERWARDS MISTRESS 
P MILTON. 

Though the old style adopted in Lady Willoughhy’s Diary, and eubsequently in Ma 5 
Smith’s Journal noticed in the Albion of February 17, —_ be imitated ad inf i * we think 
the yore ey the best things of its kind. A continuation is promised, but possibly 
this eatract may sutlice, 





JOURNALL.- 


Forest Hill, Oxon, May Ist, 1643. 

** * Seventeenth birthdaye. A gypsie woman at y® gate woulde 
faine have tolde my fortune ; but mother chased her away, saying she 
had doubtlesse harboured in some of y® low houses in Oxford, and mighte 
bring us y@ plague. Couldehavecried for vexation ; she had promised 
to tell me y® colour of my busband’s eyes ; but mother says she believes 
I shall never have one, Iam soe sillie, Father gave me a gold piece. 
Dear mother is chafed, methinks, touching this debt of five hundred 
pounds, which father says he knows not how to pay. Indeed, he sayd, 
overnighte his whole personal estate amounts to but five hundred pounds, 
his timber and wood to four hundred more, or thereabouts ; and the 
tithes and messuages of Whateley are no great matter, being mortgaged 
for about as much moor, and he hath lent sights of money to them that 
won't pay, so ’tis hard to be thus prest. Poor father! ’twas good of him 
to give me this gold piece. 
May 2nd.—Cousin Rose married to Master Roger Agnew. Present, 
father, mother, and brother of Rose. Father, mother, mother, Dick, Bob, 
Harry, and 1; Squire Paice and his daughter Audrey ; an olde aunt of 
Master Roger's, and one of his cousins, a stif!-backed man with large eares, 
and such along nose! Cousin Rose looked bewtifulle—pitie so faire a 
girlsd marry so olde a man—’tis thoughte he wants not manie years ol 
fifty. 
7th.—New misfortunes in ye poultrie yarde. Poor mother's loyalty 
cannot stand ye demands for her best chickens, ducklings, &c., for ye use 
of his My’sofficers since the king hath beene in Oxford. She accuseth 
my father of haviog beene wonne over by a few faire speeches to be mors 
of a royalist than his natural temper inclineth him to; which, of course, 
he will not admit. 
8th.—Whole day taken up in a visit to Rose, now a week married, and 
growne quite matronliealready. We reached Sheepscote about an hour 
before noone. Along, broade, strait walkeof green turf, planted with 
hollyoaks, sunflowers, etc., and some earlier flowers alreadie in bloom, 
ied up to y@ rusticall porch of a truly farm-like house, with low gable 
roofs, a long lattice window on either side y® doore, and three casements 
above. Such, and no more, is Rose’s house! But she is happy, for she 
came running forthe, soe soone as she hearde Clover’s feet, and helped 
me from my saddleall smiling, tho’ she had not expected to see us. We 
had curds and creame; and she wished it were the time of strawberries 
for she sayd ay had large beds ; and then my father and ye boys went 
forthe to looke for Master Agnew. Then Rose took me up to her chamber 
singing as she went; and ye long, low room was sweet with flowers. 
Sayd I, “ Rose, to be mistress of this pretty cottage, ’twere hardlie amisse 
to marry aman as olde as Master Roger.” “ Olde !” quoth she, “ deare 
Moll, you must not deem him olde ; why, he is but forty.two; and am 
notI twenty-three?” She lookt soe earneste and hurte, that I coulde not 
but falle a laughing. 


8¢h.—Mother gone to Sandford. She hopes to get uncle John to lend 
father this money. Father says she may try. ‘Tis harde to discourage 
her with an ironicalle smile, when she is doing alle she can,and more 
than manie women woulde, to help father in his difficultie ; but suche, 
she sayth somewhat bitterlie, is the lot of our sex. She bade father mind 
that she had brought him three thousand pounds, and askt what had 
come of them, Answered; helped to fille ye mouths of nine healthy 
children, and stop y® mouth of an easie husbsnd; soe, with a kiss, made 
up- Ihave ye keys,and am left mistresse of alle, to my greate content- 
ment ; but ye childrenclamour for sweetmeats, and father sayth, “ re- 
member, Moll, discretion isye better part of valour.” 
After mother had left, went into ye paddock, to feed ye colts with bread ; 
and while they were putting their noses into Robin’s pockets, Dick 
brought out ye two ponies, and set me on one of them, and we had a mad 
scamper through y¢ meadows and down ye lanes; I leading. Just at 
y® turne of Holford’s close, came shorte upon a gentleman walking un- 
der ye hedge, clad in a sober, genteel suit, and of most beautifulle coun- 
tenance, with hair like a woman’s, of a lovely pale brown, long andsilky, 
failing over his shoulders. I nearlie went over him, for Clover’s hard 
forehead knocked agaynst his chest; but he stoode it like arock ; and 
lookinge firste at me and then at Dick, he smiled and spoke to my bro- 
ther, who seemed to kuow him, and turned about and walked by us, 
stroaking Clover’s shaggy mane. [ felte a little ashamed ; for Dick had 
settme ony poney just asl was, my gown somewhat too shorte for ri- 
ding : however, I drewe up my feet and let Clover nibble a little grasse, 
and then got rounde to ye neare side, our new companion stille between 
us. He offered me some wild flowers, and askt me theire names; and 
when I tolde them, he sayd I knew more than he did, though he accoun- 
ted himselfea prettie fayre botaniste : and we wenton thus, talking of 
y® herbs and simples in ye hedges, and I sayd how prettie some of theire 
names were, and that methought though Adam had named alle ye ani- 
mals in Paradise, perhaps Eve had named alle ye flowers. He lookt ear- 
nestlie at me, on this, and muttered “ prettie.”’ Then Dick askt of him 
news from London, and he spoke, methought, reservedlie ; ever,and anon 
turning his bright, thoughtfulle eyes on me. At length we parted at y¢ 
turn of ye lane. 
Iaskt Dick who he was, and he told me he was one Mr. John Milton, 
y® party to whom father owed five hundred pounds, He was ye sonne 
of a Buckinghamshire gentleman, he added, well connected, and very 
scholarlike, but affected towards y® Parliament. His grandsire, azea- 
lous papiste, formerly lived in Oxon, and disinherited ye father of this 
gentleman for abjuring y® Romish faith. 

When I found how faire a gentleman was father’s creditor, I became 
y® more interested in deare mother’s successe. 

















May 13th.—Dick began to harpe on another ride to Sheepscote this 
morning, and persuaded father to lethim have y® bay mare, soe he and 

started at aboute ten o’ the clock. Arrived at Master Agnew’s doore, 
found it open, no one in parlour or studdy; sce Dick tooke ye horses 
rounde, and then we went straite thro’ ye house into y® garden behind, 
whichis ona rising ground, with pleached alleys and turfen walks, and a 
peep of ye church through y trees. A lad tolde us his mistress was with 








the night. 





the bees, soe we walked towards ye hives; and, from an arbour hard by, 





early dream of fancy, which passes away like morning dew ; end | os 











face with hi, | 





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‘a murmur, tho’ not of bees, issuing. In this rusticall bowre, 
Roger ponding to Rose and to Mr. Milton. Thereupon en- 

anie ‘cheerfalle utations, and Rose proposed returning to y® 
but Master Agnew sayd it was pleasanter in the bowre, where was 
for alle ; soe then Rose offered to take me to her chamber to lay 
je, and ised to send a junkett into y® arbour; whereon 


w smiled at Mr. Milton, and sayd somewhat of “ neat-handed 


gued ™ 
house, 
room 
aside mY 
Phillis.” 
‘As we went alonge, 1 tolde Rose I had scene her guest once before, 
and tbought him a comely, pleasant gentleman. She laught, and sayd, 
«« Pleasant ? why, he ig one of y® greatest scholars of our time, and knows 
more languages than you or I ever heard of.” I made answer, ‘ That 
i not ensure his being pleasant, but rather ye con- 


may be, aud yet might 
trary, for L cannot reade Greeke or Latin, Rose, like you.” Quoth Rose, 
« But you can reade English, and he hath writ some of ye loveliest Eng- 


and hath brought us a new composure this 


lish verses yOu ever hearde, 
his olde college friend, was discussing with 


morning, Which, Roger, being 


him, to my greate pleasure, when you came. After we have eaten y® 
jgnkett, he shall beginne it again.” “ By no means,” said I, “for I love 


talking more than reading.” However, it was not soe to be, for Rose 
woulde aot be foyled ; and as it woulde not have been good manners to 
decline y® hearinge in presence of ye poet, I was constrayned to sup- 
resse & Secret yawne and feign attention, though, trath to say, soone 
wandered; and, during ye laste halfe hour, I sat in a compleat dreame, 
tho’ not unpleasant one. Roger having made an end, twas diverting to 
heare him commending ye piece unto ye author, who as poe accepted 
it; yet, with nothing fallesome about the one, or misprou about ye other. 
Indeed, there was a sedate sweetnesse in y® poet's wordes as well as 
jokes; and shortlie, waiving y® discussion of his owne composures, he 
begaone to talke of those of other men, as Shakspeare, Spenser, Cowley, 
Ben Jonson, and of Tasso, and Tasso’s friend the Marquis of Villa, whome 
it appeared, Mr. Milton had knowledge of in Italy. Then he askt me, 
woulde [not willingly have seene ye country of Romeo and Juliet, and 
rest to know whether I loved poetry ; but finding me loath to tell, sayd 
- doubted not I preferred romances, and that he had read manie, and 
loved them dearly too. I sayd, I loved Shakspeare’s plays better than 
Siduey’s Arcadia; on which he. cried “ righte,”” and drew nearer to me, 
aud would have talked at greater length ; but, knowing from Rose 
how learned he was, I feared to shew him I was a sillie toole; soe, like 
a sillie foole, held my tongue. 
Dinner; eggs, bacon, roast ribs of lamb, spinach, potatoes, savoury pie, 
a Brentford pudding, and cheesecakes. What a pretty housewife Rose 
is! Roger's plain hospitalitie and scholarlie discourse appeared to much 
advantage. He askt of news from Paris; and Mr. Milton spoke of ye 
Swedish ambassadour, Dutch by birth; a man renowned for his learning, 
mazuanimity, and misfourtunes, of whome he had seene much. He told 
2ose and me how this Mister Van der Groote had beene unjustlie caste 
into prison by his countrymen; aud how his good wife had shared his cap- 
tivitie and had tried to get his sentence reversed; failing which, shecon- 
trived his escape in a big chest which she pretended to be full of heavie 
olde books. Mr. Milton concladed with the exclamation, “ Indeede, 
there never was such a woman; on which, deare Roger, whome I 
beginne to love, quoth, “Oh, yes, there are manie such,—we have two 
at table now.” Whereat, Mr. Milton smiled. 
At leave-taking pressed Mr. Agnew and Rose to come and see us soone; 
and Dick askt Mr Milton to see y® bowling greene. 
Ride home, delightfulle. 





14th.—Thought, when I woke this morning, I had been dreaminge of 

St. Paul let down ye wall ina basket; but founde, on more closely ex- 
amining the matter, ‘twas Grotius carried down y® ladder in a chest; 
and methought I was his wife, leaninge from ye window above and cry- 
ing to y® souldiers, “ Have a care, have a care!” ’Tis certayn I shoulde 
have betraied him by an over-anxietie. 

Resolved to give father a Sheepscote dinner, but Margery affirmed ye 
haunch woulde no longer keepe, so was furced to have it drest, though 
meaninge to have kept it for companie. 

Little Kate, who had been out alle ye morning, came in with her lap 
fulle of batter-burs, the which I was glad to see, as mother esteems 
them a soverign remedie ’gainst y¢ plague, which is like to be rife in 
Oxtord this suummer, the citie being so overcrowded on account of his MY. 
While laying them out on ye stille-room floor, in bursts Robin to say Mr. 
Agnew and Mr. Milton were with father at ye bowling greene, and 
woulde dine here. Soe was glad Margery had put down y®@ haunch. 
Twas past one o’ the clock, however, before it coulde be sett on table; 
and I had just ran up to pin on my carnation knots, when I hearde them 
alle come tn discoursing merrilie. 

Atdinner Mr. Milton askt Robin of his staddies ; and I was in payne 
for ye deare boy, knowing him to be better affected to his out-doore re- 
creations than to his poe but be answered boldlie he was in Ovid, and 
ace to guesse was that goode scholarship o ; 
but he turned it towards my father, and said he Ses trying an sont fr vlled | 
on two young nephéws of his owne, whether y® reading those authors 
that treate of physical subjects mighte not advantage them more than y, 
poeis; whereat my father jested with him, he being himselfe one of the 
fraternitie he seemed to despise. But he uphelde his argumente so brave- 
lie, that father listened in earveste silence. Meantime, the cloth being 
drawne, and [in feare of remaining over long, was avised to withdrawe 
myselfe earlie, Robin following, and begging me to goe downe to yé@ fish- 
pouds. Afterwards alle y® others joyned us, and we sate on y® steps till 
the sun went down, when, the horses being broughte round, our guests 
tooke leave without returning to y¢ house. Father walked thoughtfullie 
home with me, leaning on my shoulder, and spake little. 





15sh.—After writing ye above last night, in my chamber, went to bed 
and had a most heavenlie dreame. Methoughte it was brighte, brighte 
moonlighte, and [ was walking with Mr. Milton on a terrace,—not our 
terrace, but in some outlandish place; and it had flights and flights of 
green marble steps descending, [ cannot tell how farre, with stone figures 
aud vases on everie ove. We went downe and downe these steps, till we 
Caine to a faire piece of water, still in ye moonlighte; and then, me- 
thoughte, he would be taking leave, and sayd, much aboute absence and 
sepa as tho” we had known each other some space; and alle that 
© sayd was delightfulle to heare. Of a suddain we hearde cries as of 
siren, laa wood that came quite down to y¢ water’s edge, and Mr. 
-_ ton sayd, “* Hearken !” and then, “ There is some one being slaine in 
} woode, [ must goe to rescue him; and soe drew his sword and ran off. 
ot oe y® cries continued, but I did not seem to mind them much; 
. ooking steadtastlie downe into y¢ cleare water, coulde see to an im- 
ee depth, and behold, oh, rare !—girls sitting on glistening rocks, 
po se, beneath, combing and braiding their brighte hair, and talking 
jdaughing, onlie [ coulde not heare aboute what. And theire kirtles 
ithe like spun glass, and theire braceletts coral and pearl, and I thought 
the fairest sight that eyes coulde see. But, alle at once, the cries in 
th attrighted them, for they started, looked upwards and alleaboute, 
wad Xi Swimming thro’ ye clear water so fast, thatit became troubled 
a uck, aud I coulde see tbem noe more. Then I was aware that ye 
. _ in the wood were of Dick and Harry, calling for me; and I sought 
= or Here!” but my tongue was heavie. Then I commenced run- 
call, owards them through ever so manie greene paths, in y® wood ; but 
aa we coulde never meet ; and I began to see grinning faces, neither 
of — hor beaste, peeping at me through y® trees; and one and another 
snem called me by uame, and in greate feare and paine I awoke ! 
Strange things are dreames. Deare mother thinks much of 
ype. sayth they oft portend coming events. My father holdeth 
mors toe - ae et ew made up of what hath alreadie come to 
leu me mea “wo. t like this dreame of mine hath in anie part be- 
What strange fableor masque we i 
ptm ye Be q re they reading that day at 


them, and 


Sheepscote ? 





9 
whit Too much busied of late, 


bo to write, though much hath ha 
| woulde fain remember. Dined at Ghstecer voomaeden™ hee 
: ae is coming home in a day or two, but helde short speech 
oe M, Po concerning housewifery. The Agnews there, of course: 
not song es whom we have seene continuallie, lately; and i know 
much, bry shoul ‘e be, but he seemeth to like me. Father affects him 
the less econ loveth him not. She hath seene little of him: perhaps 
deseene better. Ralph Hewlett, as usuall, forward in his rough 
Prefer M 8 to please ; bat, though no scholar, I have yet sense enough to 
Stodde. i Milton's discourse to his. * * * * I wish I were fonder of 
Gen ~ AB ut, siuce it cannot be, what need to vex? 
ene ieee of another. Rose was alwaies for her booke ; and, had 
2 second th uo scholar, Mr. Agnew woulde, may be, never have given her 
oughte: but alle are not of y¢ same way of thinking. 


A few lines received from mother’s “ spoilt boy,” as father 


Other, 
With , 


Some are born of 


ts, 
ath called brot i i 
. her Bill, ever since he ieri 
ibepele cae ‘ > went a soldiering. Blurred and 
Brate hande Bees 00) re pet pins them. Trulie, we are none of us 


She Albion. 


Oh, strange event! Can this be happinesse? Why, then 
am I soe feared, soe mazed, soe prone to weeping? I woulde that mother 
were here. Lord have mercié on me 8 sinfulle, sillie girl, and guide my 
steps arighte. 

* * itseemes like a dreame, (I have done noughte but dreame 
of late, I think,) my going along y® matted passage, and hearing voices 
in my father’s chamber, just as my hand was on y® latch; and my with- 
drewing my hand, and going softlie away, though I never paused at dis- 
turbing him before ; and, after I had beene a fall hour in ye stille room, 
turning over ever soe mauie trays full of dried herbs and flower-leaves, 
hearing him come forthe and call, “ Moll; deare Moll; where are you?” 
with I know not what of strange in y® tone of his voice; and my running 
to him hastilie, and his drawing me into his chamber, and closing ye doore. 
Then he takes me round y@ waiste, and remains quite silent awhile; I 
gazing on him so strangelie! and at length, he says with a kind of sigh, 
“Thou art indeed but young yet! scarce seventeen,—and fresh, as Mr. 
Milton says, as the earlie May ; too tender, forsooth, to leave us yet, 
sweet child! But what wilt say, Moll, when I tell thee that a well- 
esteemed gentieman, whom as yet indeed I know too little of, hath craved 
of me access to ye house as one that woulde win your favour ?” 

Thereupon such a suddain faintness of ye spiritts overtooke me, (a 
thing I am noe way subject to,) as that I fell down in aswound at father’s 
feet; and when I came to myself agayn, my hands and feet seemed full 
of prickles, and there was a humming, as of Rose’s bees, in mine ears. 
Lettice and Margery were tending of me, and father watching me full of 
care ; but see soone as he saw me open mine eyes, he bade the maids 
stand aside, and sayd, stooping over me, “Enough, dear Moll, we will 
talk noe more of this at present.” ‘ Onlie just tell me,” uoth I, in a 
whisper, “ who it is.” “Guesse,’’ sayd he. *‘ I cannot,” I softlie replied ; 
and, with the lie, came such a rush of blood to my cheeks as betraied me. 
“Tam sure you have though,” sayd deare father gravelie, “and I neede 
not say it is Mr. Milton, of whome I know little more than you doe, and 
that is notenough. On the other hand, Roger Agnew sayth that he is one 
of whome we can never know too much, and there is somewhat about him 
which inclines me to believe it.” “‘ What will mother say?’ interrupted 
I. Thereat father’s countenance changed ; and he hastilie answered, 
“ Whatever she likes; I have an answer for her, and a question too ;” and 
abruptlie left me; bidding me keep myselfe quiet. 

But can1? QOh,no! Father has sett a stone rolling, unwitting of its 
course. It has prostrated me in yé first instance; and will, I misdoubt, 
hurt my mother. Father is bold enow in her absence, but when she 
comes back will leave me to face her anger alone ; or else, make such a 
stir to shew that he is not governed by a woman, as wille make things 
worse. Meanwhile, how woulde I have them? Am I most pleased or 
payned ? dismayed or flattered? Indeed, I know not. 

* * * Tam soe sorry to have swooned. Needed I have done it, 
merelie to heare there was one who soughte my favour? Aye, but one 
soe wise ! so thoughtfulle ! so unlike me ! 














Bedtime; same daye. 


Who knoweth what a daye will bring forth? After writing 
y® above. I sate likeone stupid ruminating on I know not what, except on 
y® unlikelihood that one soe wise woulde trouble himself to seeke for 
aught and yet fail towim. After abiding a long space in mine owne cham- 
ber, alle below seeming still, I began to wonder shoulde we dine alone 
or not, and to have a hundred hott and cold fits of hope and feare. 
Thought I, if Mr. Milton comes, assuredlie I cannot goe down; but yet I 
must; but yet I will not; but yet ye best will be to conduct myseife as 
though nothing had happened; and, as he seems to have left the house 
long ago, maybe he hath returned to Sheepscote, or even to London. Oh 
that London! Shall I indeede ever see it? and y® rare shops, and y® 
play-houses, and St. Paul’s, andy® Towre? But what and if that ever 
comes to pass? MaustI leave home? dear Forest Hill? and father and 
mother, and y® boys? more especiallie Robin? Ah! but father will give 
me a long time to think of it. He will, and must. 

Then dinner-time came; and, with dinner-time, uncle Hewlett and 
Ralph, Squire Paice and Mr. Milton. We had a huge surloin, soe no 
feare of shortcommons. I was not ill pleased to see soe manie ; it gave 
me an excuse for holding my peace, but I coulde have wished for another 
woman. However, father never thinks of that,and mother will soone 
be home. After dinner y® elder men went to ye bowling-greene with 
Dick and Ralph; the boys to y® fishing-ponds ; and, or ever that I was 
aware, Mr. Milton was walking with me on the terrace. My dreame 
came so forcibly to mind, that my heart seemed to leap into my mouth; 
but we kept away from ye fish-ponds, and from leave-taking, and from 
his morning discourse with my father,——at least for awhile ; but some 
way he gotround to it, and sayd soe much, and soe well, that, after alle 
my father’s bidding me keepe quiete and take my time, and mine owne 
regolution to think much and long, he never rested till he had changed 
y® whole appearance of things, and made me promise to be his, wholly 
and trulie. And oh! I have en too quickly wonne! 


* ” * 





May 23d. Atleaste, sosayeth the calendar ; but with me it hath beene 
trulie an April daye, alle smiles and teares. Aud now my spirits are soe 
perturbed and dismaid, as that I know not whether to weepe or no, for 
methinks crying wd relieve me. At first waking this morning my mind 








him puyn; and though he made as thoagh he forgot it directly, and I 
soake payns to uate bie forget it, coulde never be quite sure whether he 


* * * My spiritts were soe dashed by this, and by learning his age 
to be soe much more than I bad deemed it, (for,he is thirty-five! Who 
coulde have thoughte it ?) that I had, th , the aire of being much 
more discreete and pensive than belongeth to fny natufe’; whereby he 
was, perhaps, well p d. AsI became more grave he became more 
gay; soe that we met each other, as it were, half-way, and became righte 
pleasant. If his countenance were comely before, it is quite beavenlie 
now ; and yet I question whether my love increaseth as rapidlie as ~ 4 
feare. Surelie my folly will prove as distasteful to him, as his ove’ 
wisdom to me. The dread of it hath alarmed me alreadie. What has 
become, even now, of alle my gay visions of marriage, and London, and 
the play-houses, and the Towre? have faded away thus earlie, 
aud in their place comes a forebodin I scarce can say what. [ am 
as if a child, receiving from some olde fairy ye gift of what seemed 
a fayre doll’s house, shoulde hastilie open y® doore thereof, and starte 
back at beholding nought within but a huge cavern, deepe, high, and 
vaste; in parte glittering with glorious crystals,and ye rest hidden im 
obscure darkness. 





NINEVEH AND ITS REMAINS. 


REMOVAL OF THE WINGED BULL. 
From the second volume of Layard’s Work, to be issued in a few days. 

The Trustees of the British Musecm had not contemplated the removal 
of either a winged bull or lion, and I had at first believed that, with the 
means at my Sposa, it would have been useless to attempt it. They 
wisely determined that these sculptures should not be sawn into pieces, 
to be put together again in Europe, as the pair of bulls from Khorsabad. 
They were to remain, where discovered, antil some favourable opportan- 
ity of removing them entire might occur; and I was directed to heap 
earth over them, after the excavations had been brought to an end. Being 
loath, however, to leave all these fine specimens of Assyrian sculpture 
behind me, [resolved upon attempting the removal and embarkation of 
twoof the smallest and best preserved. Those fixed upon were the lion 
No. 2, from entrance 4, hall Y, in plan 3, and a ball from entrauce e, of the 
same hall. Thirteen pairs of these gigantic sculptures, and several frag- 
ments of others, had been discovered; but many of them were too 
much injured to be worth moving. I had wished to secure the pair of 
lions forming the great entrance into the priucipal chamber of the north- 
west palace ; the finest specimens of Assyrian sculpture discovered in the 
ruins. But after some deliberation I determined to leave them for the 
present; as, from their size, the expense attending their conveyance to 
the river would have been very considerable. . 

I formed various plans for lowering the smaller lion and bull, for drag. 

ing them to the river, and for placing them upon rafts. Each step had 
its difficulties, and a variety of original suggestions and ideas were sup- 
plied by my workmen, and by the good people of Mosul. At last I re- 
solved upon constracting acart, sufficiently strong to bear any of the mas 
ses to be moved. As no wood but poplar could be procured in the town, a 
carpenter was sent to the mountains with directions to fell the largest mul- 
berry tree, or any tree of equally compact grain, he could fiud ; and to 
bring beams of it, and thick slices from the trunk, to Mosul. 

By the month of March this wood wasready. I purchased from the 

dragoman of the French Consulate a pair of strong iron axles, formerly 
u by M. Botta in bringing sculptures from Khorsabad. Each wheel 
was formed of three solid pieces, nearly a foot thick, from the trunk of a 
mulberry tree, bound together by iron hoops. Across the axles were laid 
three beams, and above them several cross-beams, all of the same wood. 
A pole was fixed toone axle, to which were also attached iron rings for 
ropes, to enable men, as well as buffaloes, to draw thecart. The wheels 
were provided with movable hooks for the same purpose. 
Simple as this cart was, it became an object of wonder in the town. 
Crowds came to look at it, as it stood in the yard of the vice-consul’s 
khan ; and the Pasha’s tepjis, or artillerymen, who, from théir acquain- 
tance with the mysteries of gun carriages, were looked up to as authorities 
on such matters, daily declaimed on the properties and use of this vehicle, 
and of carts in general, to a large circle of curious and attentive listeners. 
As long asthe cart was in Mosul, it was examined by every stranger 
who visited the town. But when the news spread that it was about to 
leave the gates, and to be drawn over the bridge, the business of the place 
was completely suspended. The secretaries and scribes from the palace 
left their divans ; the guards their posts ; the bazaars were deserted ; and 
half the population assembled on the banks of the river to witness the 
mancuvresof the cart. A pairof buffaloes, with the assistance of a 
crowd of Chaldeans and shouting Arabs, forced the ponderous wheels 
over the rotten bridge of boats. The multitude seemed to be fully sa- 
tisfied with the spectacle. The cart was the topic of general conversa- 
tion in Mosul unti! the arrival, from Europe, of some children’s toys— 
barking dogs and moving puppets—which gave rise to fresh excitement, 
and filled even the gravest of the clergy with wonder at the learning and 
wisdom of the Infidels. 





was elated at ye falsitie of my mother’s notion, that no man of sense 
woulde think me worth ye having ; and soe I got up too proude, I think, 
and came down too vain, for I had spent an unusuall time at ye glasse. 
My spiritts, alsoe, were soe unequall, that ye boys took notice of it, and 
it seemed as though I coulde breathe nowhere but out of doors; so the 
children and I had a rare game of play in ye home-close, but ever and 
anon I kept looking towards ye road and listening for horses’ feet, till 
Robin sayd, ‘One w4 think ye king was coming,” but at last came Mr. 
Milton quite another way, walking through ye fields with huge strides. 
Kate saw him firste, and tolde me; and os sayd, ‘* What makes you 
look so pale Ww 
* 


* * * * 


_ We sate a good space under the hawthurn hedge on ye brow of ye hill 
listening to y® mower’s scythe, and the song of birds, which seemed 
enough for him, without talking ; and as he spake not, I helde my peace, 
till, with ye sun in my eyes, | was like tu drop asleep ; which, as his 
own face was from me, and towards y® landskip, he noted not. I was 
just aiming for mirthe’s sake to steale away, when he suddenlie turned 
about and fell to speaking of rurall life, happiness, heaven, and such like, 
in a kind of rapture ; then, with his elbow halfraising him from ye grass, 
lay looking at me; then commenced humming or singing I know not 
what strayn, but ’twas of “ begli occhi” and “chioma aurata,” and he 
kept smiling the while he sang. 

After a time we went fdvens ; and then came my firste pang ; for 
father founde out how I had pledged myselfe overnighte ; and tor a mo- 
ment looked soe grave, yt my heart misgave me for having beene soe 
hastie. However, it soone passed off; deare father’s countenance cleared, 
and he even seemed merrie at table ; and soon after dinner alle ye party 
dispersed save Mr. Milton, who loitered with me on y® terrace. After 
a short silence he exclaimed, “How good is our God to us in alle his gitts! 
For instance, in this gift of love, whereby had he withdrawn from visible 
nature a thousand of its glorious featares and gay colourings, we shoulde 
stille possess, from within, the means of throwing over her clouded face an 
eutirelie different hue! while as it is, what was pleasing before now piea- 
seth more than ever! Is it not soe, sweet Mull? ay I express thy 
feelings as well as mine own, unblamed? or am I too adventurous ? 
You are silent; well, then, let me believe that we think alike, and that 
the emotions of ye few laste hours have given such an impulse to all that 
is high, and sweete, and deepe, and pure, and holy in our innermoste 
hearts, as that we seeme now onlie first to taste ye /ife of life, and to per- 
ceive how much nearer earth is to heaven than we thought! Is it sce? 
Isit not soe ?” and I was constrayned to say, “ Yes,” at I scarcelie knew 
what; grudginglie too, for I feared having once alreadie sayd ‘“‘ Yes” too 
soone. Buthe saw nought amisse, for he was expecting nought amisse ; 
soe wert on, most like truth and love that lookes cd speake or words 
sounde. “ Oh, [ know it, I feel it:—henceforthe there is a life reserved 
for us in which angels may sympathise. For this most excellent gift of 
love shail enable us to read together ye whole booke of sanctity and virtue, 
and emulate eache other in carrying it into practice; and as the wise 
Magians kept theire eyes steadfastlie fixed on y® star, and followed it 
righte on, through rough and smoothe, soe we, with this bright beacon, 
which indeed is set on fire of heaven, shall pass on through ye peacefull 
studdies, surmounted adversities, and victorious agonies of life, ever look- 
ing steadfastlie up!” 

Alle this, and much more, as tedious to heare as to write, did I listen 
to, firste with flaggin attention, next with concealed wearinesse;—and 
as wearinesse, if indulged, never is long concealed, it soe chanced, by ill- 
luck, that Mr. Milton, suddaiulie turning his eyes from heaven upon poor 
me, caughte, I can ecarcelie expresse how slighte, an indication of discom- 
forte in my face ; and instantlie a cloud crossed his owne, though as thin 
as that through which ye sun shines while it floats over him. Oh, ’twas 
notof amoment ! and yet in hat moment we seemed eache to have seene 
y¢ other, though but at a glance, under new circumstances ;—as though 
two persons at a masquerade had just removed theire masques and pat 





make this my copie-booke. 





them on agayn. This gaye me my seconde pang:—lI felt I had given 





To lessen the weight of the lion and bull, without in any way iuterter- 
ing with the sculpture, I reduced the thickness of the slabs, by cutting 
away as much as possible from the back. Their balk was thas consider- 
ably diminished; and as the back of the slab was never meant to be 
seen, being placed against the wall of sun-dried bricks, no part of the 
sculpture was sacrificed. As in order to move these figures at all, | had 
to choose between this plan and that of sawing them into several pieces, 
[ did dot hesitate to adopt it. 

To enable me to move the bull from the ruins, and to place it on the 
cart in the pla‘n below, it was necessary to cut a trench nearly two hun- 
dred feet long, about fifteen feet wide, and, in some places, tweuty feet 
deep. A road was thus constructed from the entrance, in which stood 
the bull, to the edge of the mound. There being no means at my disposal 
to raise the sculpture out of the trenches, like the smaller bas-reliefs, this 
road was necessary. It was a tedious undertaking, as a very large accum- 
ulation of earth had to be removed. About fitty Arabs and Nestorians 
were employed in the work. 

On opening this trench it was found, that a chamber had once existed to 
the west of hall Y. The sculptured slab, forming its sides, had been des- 
troyed or carried away. Partof the walls of unbaked bricks, however, 
could still be traced. The only bas-relief discovered was lyin flat on the 
pavement, where it had evidently been left when the adjoining slabs were 
removed. It has been sent to England, and represents alion bunt. Only 
one lion, wounded, and under the horse’s feet, is visible. A warrior, in a 
chariot, is discharging his arrows at some object before him. Itis evi- 
dent that the subject must have been continued on an adjoining slab, on 
which was probably represented the king joiningin the chase. This 
small bas-relief is remarkable for its finish, the elegance of the ornaments, 
and the great spirit of the design. In these respects it resembles the bat- 
tle-scene in the southwest palace ; and I am inclined to believe that they 
both belonged to this ruined chamber ; in which, perhaps, the sculptures 
were more elaborate aud more highly finished than in any o her part of 
the building. The work of different artists may be plainly traced in the 
Assyrian edifices. Frequently where the outline is spirited and correct, 
and the ornaments designed with considerable taste, the execution is de- 
fective or coarse ; evidently showing, that whilst the snbject was drawn 
by a master, the carving of the stone had been intrusted to a inferior 
workman. In many sculpturessome parts are more highly fin‘shed than 
others, as if they had been retouched by an experienced sculptor. The 
figures of the enemy are generally rudely drawn and left unfinished, to 
show probably, that or those of the conquered or captive race, they 
were unworthy the care of the artist. It is rare to find an entire bas re- 
lief equally well executed in all its parts. The most perfect hitherto dis- 
covered in Assyria are, the lion hunt now in the British Museum, the 
lion hunt just described, and the large group of the king sitting on his 
throne, in the midst of his attendants aud winged figures. which formed 
the end of chamber G, of the northwest palace, and willbe brought to 
England. . 

Whilst making this trench, I also discovered, about three feet beneath 
the pavement, a drain, which appeared to communicate with others pre- 
viously opened in different parts the building. It was probably the main 
sewer, through which all the minor water-courses were discharged, It 
—_ square, built of baked bricks, and covered in with large slabs and 
tiles. 

As the bull was to be lowered on its back, the unscuiptured side of the 
slab having to be placed on rollers, 1 removed the walls behind it as far 
as the entrance a. An open space was thus formed, large enough to admit 
of the sculpture when prostrate, and leaving reom for the workmen to 





* The bridge of Mosul consists ofa number of rade boats bound together by 
iron chains. Planks are laid from boat to boat, and the whole is covered with 
earth. During the time of the floods this frail bridge would be unable to resist 
the force of the stream; the chains holding iton one side of the river arethen, 
loosened, and it swings round. All communication between the two banks of the 
river is thus cut off, and a ferry is established until the waters subside, and the 


bridge can be replaced. 


































































































































































































Sores: 



















































































































































































































































































































































































wo SS 



































ew rs 




















































































































172 


pass on all sides of it. The principal difficulty was of course to lower 
the mass; when once on the ground, or on rollers, it could be dragged 
forwards by the united force of a number of men; but, during its de- 
scent, it could only be sustained by ropes. If not strong enough to bear 
the weight, they chanced to , the sculpture oonll be precipitated 
to the ground, and would, probably, be broken in the fail. The few 
ropes I possessed had been e y sent to me, across the desert, from 

eppo; but they were small. From Baghdad, I had obtained a thick 
hawser, made of the fibres of the palm In addition I had been furnish- 
ed with two potee of blocks, and a pair of jack-screws belonging to the 
steamers of the Euphrates expedition. These were all the means at my 
command for moving the bul! and lion. The sculptures were wrapped 
in mats and felts, to preserve them, as far as possible, from injury in case 
ofa fall; and to prevent the ropes chipping or rubbing the alabaster. 

The bull was ready to be moved by the 18th of March. The earth had 
been taken from under it, and it was now only supported by beams rest- 
ing against the opposite wall, Amongst the an | obtained from the 
mountains were several thick rollers. These were placed upon sleepers, 
or half beams, formed out of the tranks of poplar trees, well greased and 
laid on the ground parallel to the sculpture. The bull was to be lowered 
upon these roilers. A deep trench had beea cut behind the second ball, 
completely across the wall, and, consequently, extending from chamber 
tochamber. A bundle of ropes coiled round this isolated mass of earth, 
served to hold two blocks, two others being attached to ropes wound 
ronnd the ball to be moved. The ropes, by which the sculpture was to 
be lowered, were passed through these blocks; the ends, or falls of the 
tackle, as they are technically called, being led from the blocks above 
the second bull, and held by the Arabs. The cable having been first 
passed through the trench, and then round the sculpture, the ends were 
given to two bodies of men. Several of the strongest Chaldeans placed 
thick beams against the back of the bull, and were directed to withdraw 
them gradually supporting the weight of the slab, and checking it in its 
descent, in case the ropes should give way. 

My own people were reinforced by a large number of the Abou Sal- 
man. I had invited Sheikh Abd-ur-rahman to be present, and he came 
attended by a body of horsemen. The inhabitants of Naifa and Nimroud 
having volunteered to assist on the occasion, were distributed amongst 
my Arabs. The workmen, except the Chaldwans who supported the 
beams, were divided into four parties, two of which were stationed in 
front of the bull, and held the ropes passed through the blocks. The rest 
clung to the ends of the cable, and were directed to slack off gradually 
as the sculpture descended. 

The men being ready, and all my preparations complete, I stationed 
myself on the top of the high bank of earth over the second bull, and or- 
dered the wedges to be struck out from ander the sculpture to be moved. 
Still, however, it remained firmly in its place. A rope having been pass- 
ed round it, six or seven men easily tilted it over. The thick, ill-made 
cable stretched with the strain, and almost buried itself in the earth round 
which it was coiled. The ropes held well. The mass descended gradu- 
ally, the Chaldwans propping it up firmly with the beams. It was a mo- 
ment of great anxiety. The drums, and shrill pipes of the Kurdish musi- 
clans, increased the din and confusion post y the wargry of the 
Arabs, who were half frantic with excitement. They had thrown off 
nearly all their garments; their long hair floated in the wind; and they 
indulged in the wildest postures and gesticulations as they clung to the 
ropes. The women had congregated on the sides of the trenches, and 
by their incessant screams, and by the ear-piercing tahlehl. added to the 
enthusiasm of the men. The bull once in motion, it was no longer pos- 
sible to obtain a hearing. The loudest cries I could produce were buried 
in the heap of discordant sounds. Neither the hippopotamus hide whips 
of the Cawasses, nor the bricks and clods of earth with which I endeav- 
oured to draw attention from some of the most noisy of the group were 
of any avail. Away went the bull, steady enough as long as supported by 
the props behind; but as it came nearer to the rollers, the beams could 
no longer beused. The cable and ropes stretched more and more. Dry 
from the climate, as they felt the strain, they creaked and threw out dust. 
Water was thrown over them, but in vain, for they all broke together 
when the sculpture was within four or five feet of the rollers. The bull 
was precipitated to the ground. Those who held the ropes, thus sudden- 
ly released, followed its example, and were rolling one over the other in 
the dust. A sudden silence succeeded to the clamour. I rushed into 
the trenches, prepared to find the bull in many pieces. It would be dif- 
ficult to describe my satisfaction, when I saw it lying precisely where I 
had wished to place it, and uninjured! The Arabs uo sooner got on their 
.ogs again, than seeing the result of the accident, they darted out of the 
trenches, and seizing by the hands the women who were looking on, form- 
ed a large circle, and yelling their war-cry with redoubled energy, com: 
menced a most mad dance. The musicians exerted themselves to the 
utmost; but their music was drowned by the cries of the dancers. Even 
Abd-ur-rahman shared in the excitement, and throwing his cloak to one 
of his attendants, insisted upon leading off the debkhé. It would have 
been useless to endeavour to put any check upon these proceedings. I 
preferred allowing the men to wear themseives out—a result which, con- 
sidering the amount of exertion and energy displayed both by limbs and 
throat, was not long in taking place. 

I now prepared, with the aid of Behnan, the Bairakdar, and the Tiyari, 
to move the ball into the long trench which led to the edge of the mound. 
The rollers were in good order; and as soon as the excitement of the 
Arabs had sufficiently abated to enable them to resume work, the sculp- 
ture was dragged out of its place by ropes. 

Sleepers were laid to the end of the trench, and fresh rollers were pla- 
ced under the bull as it was pulled forwards by cables, to which were 
fixed the tackles held by logs buried in the earth, on the edge of the 
mound. The sua was going down as these preparations were completed. 
I deferred any further labour to the morrow. The Arabs dressed them- 
selves ; and placing the musicians at their head, marched towards the 
village, singing their war-songs, and occasionally -raising a wild yell, 
throwing their lances into the air, and flourishing their swords and shields 
over their heads. 

I rode back with Abd-ur-rahman. Schloss and his horsemen galloped 
round us, playing the jerrid, and bringing the ends of their lances ipto a 
proximity with my head and body, which was far from comfortable; for 
it was evident enough that had the mares refused to fall almost instanta- 
neously back on their haunches, or had they stumbled, I should have been 
transfixed on the me As the exhibition, however, was meant as a 
compliment, and enabled the young warriors to exhibit their prowess, and 
the admirable training of their horses, I declared myself highly delighted, 
and bestowed equal commendations on all parties. 

The Arab Sheikh, his enthusiasm once cooled down, gave way to 
moral reflections. ‘“ Wonderful! wonderful! There is surely no God 
but God, and Mahommed is his Prophet,” exclaimed he, after a long 
pause. “In the name of the most High, tell me, O Bey, what you are 
going todo with those stones. So many thousands of purses spent upon 
such things! Can it be, as you say, that your people learn wisdom from 
them ; or is it, as his reverence the Cadi declares, that they are to go to 
the palace of your Queen, who, with the rest of the unbelievers, wor- 
ships these idols ? _As for wisdom, these figures will not teach you to 
make any better knives, or scissors, or chintzes ; and it is in the making 
of those things that the English show their wisdom. But God is great ! 
God is great! Here are stones which have been buried ever since the 
time of the holy Noah,—peace be with him! Perhaps they were under 
| sng before the deluge. I have lived on these lands for years. My 
ather, and the father of my father, pitched their tents here before me; 
but they never heard of these figures. For twelve hundred years have 
the true believers (and, praise be to God ! all true wisdom is with them 
alone) been settled in this country, and none of them ever heard of a pal- 
ace under ground. Neither did they who went before them. But lo! 
here comes a Frank from many days’ journey off, and he walks up to the 
very place, and he takes a stick (illustrating the description at the same 
time with the point of his spear), and makes a line here, and makes a 
line there. Here, says he, is the palace; there, says he, is the gate ; and 
he shows us what has been all our lives beneath our feet, without our 
having known anything about it. Wonderfal! wonderful! Is it by 
books, is it by magic, is it by your prophets, that you have learnt these 
things? Speak, O Bey ; tell me the secret of wisdom.” 

.The wonder of Abd-ur-rahman was certainly not without cause, and 
his reflections were naturalenough. Whilst riding by his side I had been 
indulging in a reverie, not unlike his own, which he suddenly interru p- 
ted by these exclamations. Such thoughts crowded upon me day by day, 
as I looked upon every newly discovered sculpture. A stranger laying 
open monuments buried for more than twenty centuries, and thus prov- 
ing,—to those who dwelt around them,—that much of the civilization 
and knowledge of which we now boast, existed amongst their forefath- 
ers when our “ ancestors were yet unborn,” was, in a manner, an ac- 
knowledgment of the debt which the West owes to the East. It is, in- 
deed, no small matter of wonder, that far distant, and comparatively new 
nations should have preserved the only records of a people once ruling 
over nearly halfthe globe; and should now be able to teach the descend- 
ants of that people or those who have taken their place, where their cities 
and monuments once stood. There was more than enough to excite the 


Che Albion. 


astonishment of Abd-ur-rahman, andI seized this opportunity to give him 
a short lecture upon the advantages of civilization and of maertenge. 
I will not pledge myself, however, that my endeavours were attended 
with as much success as those of some may be, who boast of their mis- 
sions to the East. All I could accomplish was, to give the Arab Sheikh 
an exalted idea of the wisdom and power of the Franks ; which was so 
far useful to me, that through his means the impression was spread about 
the country, and was not one of the least effective guarantees for the safe- 
ty of my property and person. te 

This night was, of course, looked upon as one of rejoicing. Abd-ur-rah- 
man and his brother dined with me ; although, had it not been for the 
honour and distinction conferred by the privilege of using knives and forks, 
they would rather have exercised their fingers with the crowds gathered 
round the wooden platters in the courtyard. Sheep were of course kil- 
led, and boiled or roasted whole ;—they formed the essence of all enter- 
tainments and public festivities. They had scarcely been devoured he- 
fore dancing was commenced. There were fortunately relays of musi- 
cians ; for no human lungs could have furnished the requisite amount of 
breath. When some were nearly falling from exhaustion, the ranks were 
recruited by others. And so the Arabs wert on until dawn. [t was use- 
less to preach moderation, or to entreat for quiet. Advice and remon- 
strances were received with deafening shouts of the war-cry, and outra- 
geous antics as proofs of gratitude for the entertainment, and ability to 
resist fatigue. deal i , : i 

After passing the night in this fashion, these extraordinary beings, still 
singing and capering, started for the mound. Every thing had been pre- 

ared on the previous day for moving the bull, and the men had now on- 
ly to haul on the ropes. As the sculpture advanced, the rollers left be- 
hind were removed to the front, and thus in a short time it reached the 
end of the trench. There was little difficulty in dragging it down the 

recipitous side of the mound. When it arrived within three or four 
feet of the bottom, sufficient earth was removed from beneath it to ad- 
mit the cart, upun which the bull itself was then lowered by still further 
digging away the soil. It was soon ready to be dragged to the river, 
Buttaloes were first harnessed to the yoke; but, although the men pul- 
led with ropes fastened to the rings attached to the wheels, and to other 
parts of the cart, the animals, feeling the weight behind them, refused to 
move. We were compelled, therefore, to take them out ; and the Tiyari, 
in parties of eight, lifted by turns the pole, whilst the Arabs, assisted by 
the people of Naifaand Nimroud, dragged thecart. The procession was 
thus formed. I rode first, with the Bairakdar, to point out the road. Then 
came the musicians, with their drums and fifes, drumming and fifing with 
might and main. Thecart followed,dragged by about three hundred 
men, all screeching at the top of their voices, and urged on by the Ca- 
wasses and superintendents. The procession was closed by the wumen, 
who kept up the enthusiasm of the Arabs by their shrill cries. Abd-ur- 
rahman’s horsemen performed divers feats round the group, dashing back- 
wards and forwards, aud charging with theirspears. 

We advanced well enough, although the ground was very heavy, until 
we reached the ruins of the former village of Nimrod.” It is the cus- 
tom, in this part of Turkey, for the villagers to dig deep pits to store 
their corn, barley, and straw for the autumn and winter. These pits 
generally surround the villages. Being only covered by a light frame- 
work of boughs and stakes, plastered over with mud, they become, par- 
ticularly when half empty, a snare and a trap to the hurseman; who, un- 
less guided by some one acquainted with the localities, is pretty certain 
to find the hind legs of his horse on a level with its ears, and himself 
suddenly sprawling in front. The corn-pits around Nimroud had long 
since been emptied of their supplies, and had been concealed by the 
light sand and dust, which, blown over the plain during summer, soon fill 
up every hole and crevice Although 1 had carefully examined the 
ground before starting, one of these holes had escaped my notice, and 
into it two wheels of the cart completely sank. The Arabs pulled and 
yelled in vain. The ropes broke, but the wheels refused to move. We 
tried every means to release them, but unsuccessfully. After working 
until dusk, we were obliged to give up the attempt. I left a party of 
Arabs to guard the cart and its contents, suspecting that some adventur- 
ous Bedouins, attracted by the ropes, mats, and felts, with which the 
sculpture was enveloped, might turn their steps towards the spot during 
the night. My suspicions did not prove unfounded ; for I had scarcely 
got into bed before the whole village was thrown into commotion by the 
report of firearms, and the war-cry of the Jebour. Hastening to the 
scene of action, I found that a party of Arabs had fallen upon my work- 
men. They were beaten off, leaving behind them, however, their mark; 
for a ball, passing through the matting and felt, struck and indented the 
side of the bull. [I was anxious to learn who the authors of this wanton 
attack were, and had organized a scheme for taking summary vengeance. 
But they were discovered too late; for, anticipating punishment, they 
had struck their tents, and had moved off into the desert. 





Next morning we succeeded in clearing away the earth, and in placing 
thick planks beneath the buried wheels. After a few efforts the cart 
moved forwards amidst the shouts of the Arabs; who as was invariably 
their custom on such occasions, indulged, whilst pulling at the ropes, in 
the most outrageous antics. The procession was formed as on the previ- 
ous day, and we dragged the bull triumphantly down to within a hun- 
dred yards of the river. Here the wheels buried themselves in the sand, 
and it was night before we contrived, with the aid of planks and by in- 
creased exertions, to place the sculpture on the platform prepared to re- 
ceive it, and from which it was to slide down on the raft. The tentsof the 
Arabs, who encamped near the river, were pitched round the bull, until 
its companion, the lion, should be brought down; and the two embarked 
together for Bagdad. The night was passed in renewed rejoicings, to 
celebrate the successful termination of our labours. On the following 
morning I rode to Mosul, to enjoy a few days’ rest after my exertions. 


ASSYRIAN PALACES. 


The interior of the Assyrian palace must have been as magnificent as 
imposing.t I have led the reader through its ruins, and he may judge of 
the impression its halls were calculated to make upon the stranger who, 
in the days of old, entered for the first time the abode of the Assyrian 
kings. He was ushered in through the portal guarded by the colossal 
lions or bulls of white alabaster.t In the first hall he found himself sur- 
rounded by the sculptured records of the empire. Battles, sieges, tri- 
umphs, the exploits of the chase, the ceremonies of religion, were por- 
trayed on the walls, sculptured in alabaster, and painted in gorgeous co- 
lours. Under each picture were engraved, in characters filled up with 
bright copper, inscriptions describing the scenes represented. Above the 
pain, arene were painted other events—the king, attended by his eunuchs 
and warriors, receiving his prisoners, entering into alliances with other 
monarchs, or performing some sacred duty. These representations were 
inclosed in coloured borders, of elaborate and elegant design. The em- 
blematic tree, winged bulls, and monstrous animals, were conspicuous 
amongst the ornaments. Atthe upper end of the hall was the colossal 
figure of the king in adoration before the supreme deity, or receiving 
from his eunuch the holy cup. He was at attended by warriors bearing 
his arms, and by the priests or presiding divinities. His robes, and those 
of his followers, were adorned with groups of figures, animals, and flow- 
ers, all painted with brilliant colours. 

Tho stranger trod upon alabaster slabs,each bearing an inscription, re- 
cording the titles, genealogy, and achievements of the great king. Seve- 
ral doorways, formed by gigantic winged lions or bulls, or by the figures of 
anercen deities, led into other apartments, which again opened into more 
istant halls. In each were new sculptures. On the walls of some were 
rocessions of colossal figures—armed men and eunuchs following the 
ing, warriors laden with spoil, leading prisoners, or bearing presents and 
offerings to the gods. On the walls of others were portrayed the winged 
priests, or presiding divinities, standing before the sacred trees. 
The ceilings above him were divided into square compartments, paint- 
ed with flowers, or with the figures of animals. Some were inlaid with 
ivory,each compartment being surrounded by elegant borders and mould- 
ings. The beams, as well as the sides of the chambers, may have been 
gilded, or even plated, with gold and silver; and the rarest woods, in 
which the cedar was conspicuous, were used for the wood-work § Squage 


* The village was moved to its present site after the river had gradually re- 
ceded to the westward. The inhabitants had been then left at a very inconveni- 
ent distance from water. 

t According to Moses of Chorene (lib. i.) the palaces in Armenia at the earliest 
eriod were built by Assyrian workmen, who had already attained to great skill 
in architecture. The Armenians thus looked traditionally to Assyria for the ori- 
gin of some of thier arts. 
tIn the palace of Scylas in the city of the Borysthenite, against which Bacchus 
a his — were placed sphinzes and gryphons of white marble. (Her 

. ib. iv. ¢. 79. 
§ Sun-dried bricks, with the remains of gilding, were discovered at Nimroud. 
Herodotus states that ihe battlements of the innermost walls of the royal palace of 
Ecbatana, the ornaments of which were most robably imitated from the edifices 
of Assyria, were plated with silver and gold (lib. i. c, 98] ; and the use of gold in 
the decorations of the palaces of the East is frequently mentioned in ancient au- 
thors. Even the roofs of the palace at Ecbatana are said to have been covered 
with silver tiles. The gold, silver, ivory, and precious woods in the roufs of the 
palaces of Babylon, attributedto Semiramis, are frequently mentioned by ancient 





April 14 


openings in the ceilings of the chambers admitted the light ofday. A 
ae shadow was thrown over the sculptured walls, and gave a ma- 
estic expression to the human features of the colossal forms which guard. 

ed the entrances. Through these apertures were seen the bright blue 

of an eastern sky, inclosed in a frame on which were painted vivid co- 
lours, the winged circle, in the midst of elegant ornameuts, and the grace- 

ful forms of ideal animals.* . 

These edifices, as it has been shown, were great national monuments, 
upon the walls ot which were represented in sculpture, or inscribed in 
alphabetic characters, the chronicles of the empire. He who eutered 
them might thas read the history, and learn the glory and triumphs of 
the nation. They served, at the same time, to bring continually to the 
remembrance of those who assembled within them on festive occasions, 
or for the celebration of religious ceremonies, the deeds of their ances- 
tors, and the power and majesty of their gods. bp be 

It would appear that the events recorded in the buildings hitherto ex- 
amined, apply only to the kings who founded them. Thus, in the earliest 
palace of Nimroud, we find one name constantly repeated; the same at 
Kouyunjik and Khorsabad. In some edifices, as at Kouyunjik, each 
chamber is reserved for some particular historical incident; thus, on the 
walls of one, we find the conquest of a people positing on the banks of 
two rivers, clothed with groves of palms, the trees and rivers being re- 
peated in almost every bas-relief. On those ofa second is represented a 
country watered by one river, and thickly wooded with the oak or some 
other tree. In the bas-reliefs of athird we have lofty mouctains, their 
summits covered with firs, and their sides with oaks and vines. In every 
chamber the scene appears to be different. : 

It was customary in the later Assyrian monuments to write, over the 

sculptured representation of a captured city, its name, always preceded 

by a determinative letter or sign. Short inscriptions were also generally 

placed above the head of the Ting in the palace at Kouyunjik, preceded 
by some words cupneeety signitying “ this is,” and followed by others 
giving his name and title. The whole legend probably ran, “ Thisis such 
an oue (the name,) the king of the country of Assyria.” At Khorsabad 
similar short inscriptions are frequently found above less important 
figures, or upon their robes; a practice which, it has been seen, prevailed 
afterwards amongst the Persians.t I may observe, that in the earliest 
palace of Nimroud, such descriptive notices have never been found in- 
troduced into the bas-reliefs. ; 

Were these magnificent mansions palaces or temples? or, whilst the 
king combined the character of a temporal raler with that of a A gh oe 
or type of the religion of the people, did his residence unite the palace, 
the temple, and a national monument raised to perpetuate the triumphs 
and conquests of the nation? These are questions which cannot yetbe 
satisfactorily answered. We can only judge by analogy. _ The religious 
character of the king is evident from a very casual examination ot the 
sculptures. The priests or presiding deities (whichever the winged 
figures su frequently found on the Assyrian monuments may be) are re- 
presented as waiting upon, or ministering to him; above his head are the 
emblems of the divinity—the winged figure within the circle, the sun, 
themoon, and the planets. As in Egypt, he may have been regarded as 
the representative, on earth, of the deity; receiving his power directly 
from the gods, and the organ of communication between them and his 
subjects. { All the edifices hitherto discovered in Assyria, have precisely 
the same character ; so that we have most probably the palace and temple 
combined; for in them the deeds of the king, and of the nation, are 
united with religious symbols, and with the statues of the gods. 

Of the exterior architecture of these edifices, no traces remain. I exe- 
amined as carefully as I was able the sides of the great mound at Nim- 
roud, and of other ruins in Assyria; bat there were no fragments of 
sculptured blocks, cornices, columns, or other architectural ornaments, 
to afford any clue to the nature of the facade. It is probable that as the 
building was raised on a lofty platform, and was conspicuous irom all 
parts of the surrounding country, its exterior walls were either cased 
with sculptured slabs or painted. This mode of decorating public build- 
ings uppears to have prevailed in Assyria, On the outside of the princi- 
pal palace of Babylon, built by Semiramis, were painted, on bricks, men 
and animals; even on the towers were hunting scenes, in which were 
distinguished Semiramis herself on horseback, throwing a javelin at a 
panther, and Ninus slaying a lion with his lance. The walls of 4 
according to Herodotus, were also painted in different colours. The 
largest of these walls (there were seven round the city) was white, the 
next was black, the third purple, the fourth blue, the fitth orange. The 
two inner walls were dilferently ornamented, one having its battlements 
plated with silver, the other with gold. — At Khorsaba a series of ala- 
baster slabs, on which were represented gigantic figures bearing tribute, 
appeared to M. Botta to be an outer wall, as there were no remains ot 
building beyond it. Itis possible that the sculptures on the edge of the 
ravine in the northwest palace of Nimroud, also apparently captives bear- 
ing tribute, may have formed part of the north fagade of the building, 
opening upon a flight of steps, or upon a road leading from the river to the 

reat hall. , yay 

We may conjecture, therefore, that the outer walls, like the inner, 

were cased with sculptured slabs below, and painted with mqnees of an- 

imals and other devices above; and thus ornamented, in the clear at- 
mosphere of Assyria, their appearance would be far from unpleasing to 
the eye. They were probably protected by a projecting roof; and, in @ 
dry climate, they would not quickly suffer injury trom mere exposure to 
the air. The total disappearance of the alabaster slabs may be anny 
accounted for by their position. They would probably have remainec 
outside the building, when the interior was buried; or they may have 
fallen to the foot of the mound, where they soon perished, or where they 
may perhaps still exist under the accumulated ru bish. || 





ANOTHER OF CAPTAIN SMITH’S STORIES. 


One evening at ourclub we had the satisfaction of hearing Captain. 
Marmaduke Smith relate an adventure in which he had been cone erned 
in Spain, and which I shall try to give as nearly as possible in the lan- 
guage of the narrator. The reader is aware, for he has already made the 
captain’s acquaintance, that he was somewhat of an oddity, aud his story 
on this occasion was suggested by a hot discussion among us on the sub- 
ject of patriotism. ; 
‘Don’t tell me of patriotism,” said the captain; “ I have seen such 
queer exhibitions of the article in my day, that I am pretty well tired of 
hearing anything more about it. I could give you a story of Spanish pa- 
triotism that would astonish you; however, it’s no use talking of the 
affair.” 
“The story—let us have the captain's story by all means,” replied sev- 
eral voices. ‘Come, captain, begin.” ; 
“ Well, well, if I must, I must, though I would rather have the matter 
forgotten. You of course all know that I am not exactly au English- 
man?” 
“Indeed! We always thought”’—— 
“Never mind; I shall explain. My father was a Scotsman, my mother 
was an Irishwoman, and I was born in Gibraltar; so that you see that I 
am an Anglo-Scoto-Irish Spaniard—a nondescript animal—thougl I hope 
not the worse subject of her Majesty, God bless her! By my father, who 
was a mariner at Gibraltar, I was sent to England for my education; and 
in consequence of my great merit—ahem !—a commission was easily got 
for me inthe army. Well, thatisa food while ago now. I served in the 
Peninsula, and was promoted—mark you, not by brevet. The Peninsula, 
you will observe, was a sort of native country to me—I spoke Spanish - 
fast as English. During one of the lulls in the campaign of 1811 I aes 
leave of absence in order to visit Gibraltar. My father and only pate? 
tp eae 





* Ihave endeavuured, with the assistance of Mr. Owen Jones, to give, ® my 
work on the Monuments of Nineveh, a representation of a chamber or hat < 
originally appeared. I have restored the details from some fragments ae fall 
ring. the excavations, and from parts of the building still standing, Theres . 
eethority for all except the ceiling, which must remain a subject of conjecture. 
The window or opening in it has been placed immediately above the W 
to bring it into the plate; butit is probable that it was in the centre ot 
The larger chambers may have had more than one such opening. Hie ek 
t On the great rock-tablet of Behistun we have not only the name an — 
ogy of Darius written over his head, but also the name and country of the pr 

ers placed above each, eee | 

t or om Siculus, lib i. c. 90, and Wilkinson’s Ancient Egypta2s, VO’) P 
245, and vol. ii. p. 67. . i 

§ These colours, with the number seven of the walls, have evidently oat 
to the planets and theircourses, (Herod. li.c,98), Seven disks are oo en ¥, 
represented as accompanying the sun, moon, and other religious emb! 
Nimroud. — : lies 
| The thickness of both the outer walls and the walls forming coe ea peep the 
the chambers, may have contributed greatly to exclude the heat an ah pd 
chambers cool. It was Mr. Longworth’s impression, on examining ein had 
there never had been any exterior architecture, but that all the s pegs ening of 
been, as it were, subterranean, resembling the serdabs, or summer ©) i ton 
Mosul and Baghdad. But such a supposition does not appear o the building. 
with the magnificent entrances, and with the elevated =  latform woeld 
Had underground apartments been contemplated, an artificl® P 


nged lions, 
“the hall. 








writers. 


scarcely have been raised to receive them, 








18 


“Sa o® @ 


RoeRremes™” 


‘ 


ne a i et i 





nce. Before I got to 


, gerous! ill, and requested m prese 
wes ies ee died, leavin os his sole heir, which was a great con. 


lation. When I came tol into his property, I found that it included 
al bandsome schooner, the Blue Eyed Maid, which lay in the harbour with 
a capital cargo of printed cotton s. The craft was waiting for a skip- 

r,and none could be had. An idea strack me—‘ Why not turn skipper 
myself for the occasion?’ The voyage was designed to be only as far as 
Bilboa—a regular smuggling transaction. I need hardly tell you, for all 

the world knows it, that Gibraltar is useful to us chiefly as a smuggling 
depot, The Spaniards want our goods ; their government will uot let 
them buy them in a regular “a ; and we, kind creatures, let them have 
them without giving any trouble to the customhouse. Now, bere was a 
fine opportunity for me distinguishing myself as a contrabandista. My 
leave of absence having yet some time to run, I determined on taking the 
command myself ; for although I had every proper confidence in Bill 
Jenkins the mate, yet knowiug the weakness of human nature, and espe- 
cially of smuggling human natare in such cases, I judged it might be as 
well to be my own cashier. 

“On Christmas eve everything was ready for a start; the anchor was 
atrip, and a fresh breeze was blowing from the southwest, which prom- 
ised, ifit did but last, a swift and pleasant rap. I had just reached the 
bottum of the flight of rock steps leading to the signal station, where I 
had been to take a last look at the weather, when I was accosted by an 
old, odd, withored-looking eben hair and beard white as 
snow, and dressed in an old-fashioned grandee suit of velvet, with a short 
cloak over his shoulders, and a Spanish cocked-hat and feather on his 
head. He had a letter froma well-known merchant of Gibraltar, recom- 
mending him as a safe, trustworthy gentleman. His object, he explained, 
was to procure a passage in the Biue-Eyed Maid to ilboa, then in the 
occupation of the French. As our rendezvous was a little to the south of 
the mouth of the Ebro, I had no difficulty in acceding, for a ‘ considera. 
tion,” to his request. An hour afterwards, we were on board, and I had 
an opportunity of more closely obsorving our new companion. He seem- 
ed a stunted, dried-up specimen of grandee pedigree and arrogance. He 
could not be less, judging from his palsied limbs, tremulous shrill voice, 
and shrunkea features, than eighty years of age. His eyes, too were 
filmy and dull, except when anything occurred to rouse him—an allusion 
to the French especially—and then a fire would glare out of the old de- 
caying sockets—whether of heaven or the other — this story will best 
tell—enough to scorch one. He looked at such times forall the world 
like an Egyptian mummy animated by a fiend from the bottomless pit. 

“We were soon under weigh, and cracking along at a spanking rate. 
The old Don kept very quiet, giving little or no trouble, except that some 
one or other of us was continually tumbling over him; for the restless 
creature would totter about thedeck all day and nearly all night, mutter- 

ing to himself, and every now and then irreverently flapping down on his 
knees. This conduct at last greatly scandalised Bill Jenkins, who argued 
that a man who threw out such an enormous number of that sort of sig- 
nals must have an uncommon queer cargo to run; aud Bill darkly hinted 
that if extra bad weather should come on, or any out-of-the-way mishap 
occur, he should know who to thank for it. Nothing, however, happened 
contrariwise till we were withiu a hundred miles of our destination, 
when, just as day broke, the look-out hand reported a strange sail on the 
weather-beam. All eyes and the only glass on board were immediately 
turned in the direction of the stranger, who finally proved to be a French 
war corvette. Bill Jenkins glanced at me, and then at the Spaniard, as 
much as tosay,I told you what would come of having that precious ras- 
cal on board: and then made preparations to hoist every stitch of canvas 
the schooner could carry. But spite of all our exertions, the corvette 
gained rapidly upon us, and the prospect of a French prison became mo- 
mentarily more and more distinct, and apparently inevitable. Our gran- 
dee seemed struck with utter madness: he stormed, raved, gesticulated, 
and execrated the advancing ship with a fury scarcely human! As some- 
thing more to the purpose, we were preparing, with sorrowful hearts, to 
throw over the best and heaviest of the cargo, in order to lighten the 
schooner, when Jeukins, who had gone up with the glass to the foretop, 
sung out— Avast heaving there ; here comes a customer for the French- 
man—hurra!” We all ran to the side, and gazed to where Bill’s arm 
pointed ; and there, sure enough, about four miles a-head—the wind was 
right on our beam—was a British ship ef war just rounding a headland, 
and coming on like a race-horse. Up went our ensigu—we had hitherto 
modestly concealed it—in a brace of shakes ; wecrowed out three lusty 
cheers, and fired our two little brass popguus, as va)’ant as turkey-cocks, 
at the corvette. As soon as the Frenchman perceived. his new friend, 
he luffed up into the wind, and seemed fora few minutes doubtful 
whether to show fight or a clean pair of heels. The British veseel was 
the Scorpion sloop of war, and about a fair match for the gentleman who 
had so nearly snapped up my father’s son and his inheritance of marke- 
table sundries. But the Frenchman fivally made up his mind for a tussle. 
In little more than ten minutes the Scorpion swept close by us, and we 
were hailed from the quarter-deck with, “‘ What schooner’s that?” The 
Blue-Eyed Maid of London, was the prompt reply. ‘ Heave to, and wait 
here till our return,” was the as quick rejoinder. “ Ay, ay, sir !” shouted 
Bill Jenkins, at the same time respectfully touching his hat, and adding in 
alow voice, “ We'll see you smothered first!’ In those days, gentle- 
men, merchant vessels were by no means desirous of too intimate an ac- 
quaintance with his ay’: cruisers. They had a pestilent way of car- 
rying off the best hands, and both skippers and sailors, like the sheep in 
the story-book, used to make ugly comparisons between the wolves and 
the shepherds; so we kept on under as much sail as thesti¢ks would bear. 
The appearance of the British cruiser had changed the delirious rage of 
the Spaniard into the wildest joy ; and when the tight, of which we had a 
capital view at a pleasant and rapidly increasing distance—a circum- 
stance, let me tell you, which adds wondertully to the agreeableness of 
such glorious spectacles—indeed, to tell the honest truth, I doubt if they 
are ever thoroughly enjoyed in any other manner’’— 

“ T always understood,” interrupted a thin, squeaky voice, struggling 
through the smoke from a corner of the room; “1 always understoud that 
warriors delight in battle.” 

“Did you, Tape!” rejoined Captain Smith: ‘ then your innocence has 
been shamefully imposed upon. A great pleasure over a battle may be; 
but ball-favours in actual course of distribution are anything but pleasant 
to the two-legged targets expectant. He who thinks otherwise, you may 
depend upon it never played at the game. But to return to my story. 
The Spaniard, [ was saying, cupered like a maniac—which in truth he 
was, and that’s the best thing, you’ll admit presently, can be said of him— 
at every mishap that befell the Frenchman's spars or rigging-gear; and 
when, after both ships had been some time hull down, Bill Jenkins an- 
nounced from the mizen-truck, with a roar like a smal! hurricane, that 
the tricolor was struck, he fairly yelled with delight, and was so over- 
come with joy that he fainted away, and had to be carried below. A 
man must have lived in Spain in those days to know to what a pitch 
national animosity can be carried; and this Senor Cortina, to add to his 
aversion for the French as the invaders of his country, had suffered, | 
afterwards learned, personal wrong and violence at their hands. His 
chateau, after a foolish resistance, had been sacked and burned, and his 
daughter ill-treated by the savage soldiery. After a few hvuurs’ repose 
he was again on deck, ejaculating as before; and by what I could piece 
out from detached seutences [ now and then overheard, I believed him to 
be imploring strength and help for the accomplishment of some great and 
awful duty which he had made a vow to perform. 

“ Nothing further occurred till we made the entrance of the Ebro, 
where we stood on and off for a couple of days and nights. At last our 
signals were answered, aud we made a successful rua of the entire cargo. 
As soon as [ had pocketed the cash, I paid the crew liberally, and des- 
patched the schooner back to Gibraltar, intending to join my regiment 
overland. I lingereda few days at the podesta, where my late passenger 
= = up, and became, in consequence, an actor in the affair which fol- 

owed. 

“One day, after a late dinner, I told Senor Cortina who I was, and 
the occupation [ usually followed. His dull old eyes flashed with joy, 
and having first pressed a considerable present ou my acceptance, and 
hinted that he wished to confer privately with me in the morning, he 
retired to his chamber. The sight and feel of the money effected a de- 
cided change for the better in my opinion of the old gentleman's rabid 
patriotism, and I began to think somewhat highly of one who evinced 
Such touching gratitude towards an ally. The next morning I was sum- 
moned immediately after breakfas. to his apartment, where he sat as cold, 
Stern, aud rigid as an iron image, All his flightiness was gone, and he 
was as solemn asa judge. His first sentence wasa stunner! “I want 
oe Mr. Smith, to convey a@ message to an ofticer of the garrison of 
- ilboa. “ Bilboa?” says I, almost lifted off my feet with surprise. 

Yes,” he replied, cool as a cucumber—“ Bilboa. The service is, I am 
aware, dangerous; but the reward shall be ample.” This was to the 
point, and sensible. ‘ What is the officer’s name, senor?” “ Colonel 
Delisle,” he replied, naming one of the most active and successful officers 
in King Joseph’s service. He was, I had before heard, a Spaniard born, 
though he now bore a French name; that, I believe, of his wife. You 
must know, gentlemen, that many Spaniards, through dislike of the oid 

Corrupt system of government, which, they said, had ruined the country, 





fhe Alvion. 


joined the intrusive monarch, as he was called, in hopes of establishing 


through him a more enlightened rule. They were called Afrancesados, 
aud were more bitterly hated by the “patriots” than were the French 
themselves. “Colonel Delisle!” I exclaimed; “ why, what on earth 
can you have to say tohim?” “ He is my son,” was the reply. I was 
dumbfounded. “ Yes,” resumed the old man, his culd, hard eye glitter- 
ing like a serpent’s, *‘Colonel Delisle is my son; and as I feel that [ 
have not many weeks, perhaps not many days, to live, I wish to see him 
once moreere Idie, I wish youtoconvey this message tohim. I cannot 
enter Bilboa myself, for a price is set upon my capture. You are used 
to such enterprises; and, as I said, the reward shall be ample. This 
ring,” he added, —— an old family affair from his finger, “ will accredit 
your message.” Well, I at last consented to undertake the commission, 
and immediately set about my preparations. They were completed in 
about an hour; and in the afternoon of the same day [ arrived safely at 
Bilboa, distance about eleven miles from where we were stopping. I 
soon succeeded in procuring an interview with the colonel, a fine sol- 
dierly-looking man, and at once imparted my message. He was greatly 
agitated, and pressed me witha hundred questions, which I answered 
or evaded as well asI could. Finally, he agreed, though with much 
hesitation, to meet his father, for whom he seemed to entertain a strong 
affection, a few miles without the town on the following day. From his 
inquiries concerning his sister, I gathered that he was iguorant of the 
burning and sacking of his paternal mansion, and I left him in happy 
ignorance on the subject. , ‘ - 

“I got safely back to Senor Cortina; and when I informed him of the 
result, a flash as of demoniac joy lighted up his withered features, and 
fading in an instant, left them paler, stonier than before. I could not 
comprehend his strange expression of face; but the faintest suspicion of 
his motives never crossed my mind. It was arranged that [ shuuld meet 
the colonel, and conduct him to a small farmhouse, about half a mile dis- 
tant from the place of rendezvous, where the senor would be in waiting. 

“Evening was rapidly closing in as I next day reached the appointed 
spot. I gave the concerted signal, and a tall figure immediately emerged 
trom the concealment of a large clump of stunted fir-trees: it was the 
colonel! He expressed boon eg at not seeing his father; bat, satisfied 
with my explanation, agreed at once to proceed to the farmhouse. We 
set off at a smart pace, and were just entering a narrow sort of gorge 
leading through some intervening hills, when thirty or forty muskets 
were suddenly presented at us by a number of men who seemed liter- 
ally to start out of the ground. The colonel glared fiercely tor an instant 
in my face; and muttering “ Accursed traitor!” sprang wildly up the 
declivity. The attempt was useless: he was instantly seized. Oar 
arms were pinioned; and having first searched and stripped us of all the 
money and valuables we had about us, we were placed in the centre of the 
party, and marched offata brisk pace. After about three hours’ smart walk- 
ing, we arrived at the head-quarters of the guerilla party into whose hands 
we had fallen. It was a wild-lookingspot, encircled on all sides by bare 
and rugged hills. The night was cold, dark, and stormy, and the unly 
objects we could discern were several stacks of piled muskets, baggage 
horse-furniture scattered here and there, and a rude portable table, near 
which was placed a number of equally rude camp-stools. Not a word 
was spoken ; and the only sounds we heard for a space, I should think, 
of more thau twenty minutes, were what I took to be signal whistles re- 
plied to at greater and lesser distances. At the end of that time men 
wrapped in cloaks stalked, silently as shadows, into the space in front of 
us, and seated themselves in grim silence near the table or trestled boards. 
I counted fifteen of them, when a whistle louder and shriller than any 
that had preceded it announced the arrival of the chief of the pleasant 
party. He took his seat at the centre of them. Pine torches were then 
lighted, at which the grim gentlemen kindled their cigars, and business 
commenced in very dangerous earnest. 

‘** Who and what are you?’ said the chief, addressing me in a voice as 
rough as a nutmeg-grater. L informed him. The explanation was satis- 
factory, for he immediately said, ‘You are free.’ I started with joyful 
surprise, and was just about to claim restitution of my stolen property, 
when I was silenced by a peremptory. * Who is your companion?’ 
This was a poser; but as I had aaticipated some inquiry of the sort, I 
answered pretty readily that he was a gentleman living iu Bilboa, with 
whom I had some pecuniary transactions; and that we were proceeding 
to a neighbouring farmhouse to settle matters when we were arrested. 
For the truth of which statement, [ added, one Senor Cortina, who was 
still no doubt waiting there for us, would readily vouch. 

“A meaning smile, as I uttered the senor’s name, gleamed over the 
rugged features of the chief, and was reflected on the countenances of 
his companions. Puzzled aud alarmed, I stopped abruptly, and held my 

eace. 
a ‘Is this fellow’s story true ?’ said the president of the court, address- 
ing the colonel. 

‘‘ The colonel was silent for a few seconds, and then said, ‘Yes; I ama 
peaceable and loyal inhabitant ef Bilboa.’ 

“* Does any one know him?’ said the chief, looking around inquiringly. 
‘We must have no mistake in this business.’ There was a long and anx- 
ious pause; but no one answered. 

“*T am sorry for it,’ muttered the president, as if speaking to himself; 
‘but it must be done.’ He then whispered one of his companions, 
who instantly rose, and quickly disappeared in the surrounding gloom. 

“A painful silence ensued. The colonel’s countenance was ps and 
troubled, and I am pretty sure he partly guessed what was coming. At 
last two figures approached the circle. They were the guerilla officer 
returning to his seat, accompanied by Senor Cortina! I[ could scarcely 
believe my eyes, and trembled in every joint of my body. The old man 
looked harder, colder. stonier than ever; but as his eyes fell upon his son, 
the same fierce gleam I had before so frequently noticed Hashed from his 
eyes, and his features worked with convulsive passion. The fit lasted 
but for a moment, and he was calm again. The chief had risen at his ap- 
proach, and his manner, as he invited the senor to be seated, indicated 
both respect and compassion. The old man declined the proffered seat, 
and remained erect, motionless, and rigid. 

“* Ts the prisoner the man whom we seek ?’ asked the president in a 
nervous, agitated whisper. 

“* Yes,’ replied Senor Cortina, in a distinct, but somewhat hurried 
voice aud mauner, like a man repeating a lesson he has long conned over, 
and is auxious to be done with. ‘ He is Colonel Delisle, as he calls him- 
self, in the usurper’s service. His real name is Cortina, he is my son, 
and a Spaniard by blood and birth. He is one of the most active foes 
of his suffering countrymen. I was on my way to England with my 
daughter, who, you may have heard’ The old mau paused, and 
again the expression of insane hate and fury flitted across his features. 
Recovering himself, he proceeded, but more hurriedly even than belore, 
‘She died at Gibraltar, and | returned here with that worthy man (point- 
ing to me,) in order to atone by this sacrifice for the crime of having giv- 
en birth to a traitor.’ 

* A deathlike silence followed. The stern countenances of the mem- 
bers of this rude court of military justice, as seen by the fitful glare of the 
torches, assumed a gloomier aud more savagely-sinister aspect as the old 
man spoke ; but not a word or gesture of comment followed. Senor 
Cortina, upon a gesture from the president, was led away. 

‘* You bear, Colonel Delisle ?” said the chief, as soon as he supposed 
the father was out of hearing. 

“I do,” replied the victim, mastering, as well as he could, the frightful 
emotion which the old man’s denunciation bad excited. “ I do, and per- 
ceive that I am hopelessly entrapped into the power of remorseless ruf- 
fians by that mistaken, much-to-be-pitied old man, whom may God forgive, 
us Ido! [ask not for mercy from sach as you; indeed I know it would 
be boutless to do so, but I tell you to your teeth that my love and devotion 
to Spain are as strong and pure as yours can be. I sought to liberate her 
with foreign help, ‘tis true, for how else could it be done?—from the vilest 
tyranny that ever debaced and ruined a gallant nation; you fight to restore 
her, also by foreign aid, to thraldum of both soul and body. You are im- 
patient: well, then, your sentence—and be brief.” 

“ It was soon passed—death without delay. 

“ Do you wish for a priest ?”’ said the chief. 

* An impatient gesture of refusal was the only answer. Half-a-dozen 
musketeers, at a signal from one of the officers, stepped forth from the 
ranks behind us: the colonel drew himself fiercely up, and looked them 
sternly and steadily in the face: the chief waved me away; the words, 
‘“* Make ready, present, fire!’ were rapidly given; the death-shots rang 
sharply on the silence of the night; and the colonel fell stone-dead on the 
greensward. A soldier tapped me lightly on the shoulder, and bade me 
tollow him. I mechanically obeyed, and soon found myself on the high 
road, where my guide, having first generously seaiered me three of the 
many gold pieces I had been robbed of, left me. I was so kuocked up, so 
bewudered by what I had witnessed, that I sought shelter and repose in 
the first house [ came to; andit was not till the fourth day after the colonel’s 
execution that Larrived at my old lodgings. {[ was there intormed that 
Senor Cortina had returned, bringing with him his son’s body, which was 
interred in a neighbouring burying-ground, and that the old mau had since 
passed most of his time there. I waited several hours for him, as I had 
not yet touched the reward, which, although I wished to Heayen I had 








173 


never earned, still, as the mischief was done, I felt a natural desire to 


receive ; but finding he did not arrive, and feeling anxious to be gone, I 
percent’ to the churchyard in search of him. AsI approached, I saw 
im kneeling, with his back towards me, by the side of a new-made grave, 

at the head of which wasa wooden crucifix. I called to him, at first gently, 
then louder : receiving no answer, I went up, tapped him on the back, 
and foand that he was dead! The unnatural furor which had preyed on 
him had at length quenched the last spark of life. He was a victim to his 
own vengeful passions !”” 

“ What a horible transaction altogether !”’ said one or two of the 

“ Yes,” said the captain in conclusion, “ it was an affair I shall never 
forget, although I do try to banish it from recollection. It was, however, 
after all, only one of thousands of cases of family desolation and murder that 
occurred during the Peninsular war. Gentlemen, good night!” 





Kupevial Parliament. 


NAVIGATION LAWS. 
House of Commons, March 12th. 


In the course of the debate on the second reading of the bill, 

Mr. DRUMMOND promised the Hon. Member for Stoke that in the 
remarks he was about to make he would not make use of any of those 
arguments which he had described as having been long interred in past 
debates ; but he would take the liberty of examining into the truth of 
the position whether the naval and military officers of the country were 
men whose opinions were not to be attended to when the honour and 
safety of the country were concerned. (Hear). But, before he pro- 
ceeded tothat part ot the subject, he must say that when the Right Hon. 
Gentleman the Member for the University of Oxford complained of the 
want of unanimity among the members ‘of the Government, he might 
have atlurded them a better example than by giving an argument on one 
side of the question anda vote on the other. (Hear, hear). He must 
agree that much of the debate on this question had been not so much on 
the principle as on the details of the Bill; but at the same time he must 
say there was this excuse for Hon. Members—that the principle of the 
Bill was nowhere to be found init. (Laughter). The Bill in its first 
words said that it was a Billto amend certain things; and the way in 
which it proposed to amend them was by abrogating them. Now, he 
must say that was the most extraordinary way of amending he had ever 
heard of. (Hear, hear). It might be all very right and proper to alter 
eighteen statutes of Parliament, but be could not consider that question 
in the present stage of the Bill. To find out what was the principle of 
the Bill they must look to the speeches which had been delivered not 
only in the legitimate assembly, but in many assemblies of an illegitimate 
character. In all past times the object of every statesman, whatever his 
political opinions might have been, was to prevent capital going out of 
this country, because if it did our labourers could not be employed. 
Now, the object of this Bill—and most ingeniously contrived it had 
been—was to keep capital in the country, but still not to employ 
our labourers (Hear, and a laugh). The promoters of it did not send 
capital away, but they kept it here for the purpose of employing foreign 
labourers. They had all beard of the Satanic school of poetry in litera- 
ture. If there was such a thing as a Satanic school in politics, the au- 
thors of this Bill certainly belonged toit. (Hear, hear, and a laugh). 

It was a very’ remarkable phenomenon that at the present day it 
seemcd the fate of every statesman, no matter to what party he belonged 
or on what side of the House ke sat, to be dvomed to eat every word he 
had ever uttered on any one cccasion—[A laugh]—and to go against 
every principle which he had ever endeavoured to establish. If, there- 
fore, any Honourable Gentleman were at a loss to meet the arguments of 
the Government and its supporters, they had only to go back to the 
speeches of these very geutlemen, and to appeal from the drunken 
Philips of the day to the sober Philips of ten years ago.—[Hear, hear. } 
In fact, the best speech against the measure of Earl Grey was the speech 
delivered not loug ago by Lord Howick.—[ A laugh.] For years past 
the country had been under an evil genius. [t had been well described 
by the Hon, Member for Buckingham [Mr. Disraeli] as a fate from 
which no Minister could liberate himself—It seemed, as it were, a sort 
of myth of a force which bound them down, while Chancellors of the 
Exchequer pecked at their livers ad libitum.—[Cheers and a acy 
The alterations in former days made by Ministers in our system hi 
not been carried to any dangerous extent. The changes introduced by 
Lord Wallace and Mr. Huskisson had been wise and prudent. Not so 
the conduct of Mipisters now. He spoke not of any particular Govern- 
ment, but of all those who had sat on the Treasury benches for many 
years back. It might be apparent presumption in him to say so, but one 





expression in the Right Hon. Member’s [ Mr. Gladstone’s] speech bad 
been worth attending to—that in which the right Hon. Member said the 
evil to our school was that we did not attend to lessons of experience, 
but dashed boldly into ways unknown on the faith of theories untried— 
(Hear, hear. ] 

He called on them not altogether to disregard the teachings of the past 
and the lessons of experience. The most celebrated statesman of anti- 
quity declared that “there is in maritime states a corruption and insta- 
bility of morals, for they import not only merchandise, but morals—so 
that nothing can remain entire in the institutions of their country—( Hear, 
hear)—for they who inhabit those states do not remain quiet in their pla- 
ces, but are hurried away from their homes by an ever-winged hope of 
thought ; aud, evenifthey remain bodily, they still run about and wan- 
der in spirit ; nor did anything tend more to the dstraction of Corinth or 
Carthage, long in adeclining state, than the vagrancy und dissipation of 
their citizens, who, through their greediness of trade and navigation, re- 
linquished the culture of their tande and their training to arms.” —(Hear 
hear.) He might quote the opinions of Lord Chatham and of Mr. Canning 
to a similar effect, and of late days they had an eminent writer who, in 
his work on Germany, speaking of Frankfort, said, that “ in consequence 
of her commercial relations, she was so thoroughly under foreign influence 
and so polluted by amixture of all foreign manners, that her population 
could be hardly said to have acharacter of their own.” What had fitted 
thein to be citizens of the world had unfitted them to be citizens of the 
country to which they belonged, for “ they judged of the happiness of 
mankind by the rate of exchange.”—(Cheers and laughter.) Now, all 
that was applicable to the anekenter school. The grand fault of these 
gentlemen was that they could not form a conception how anything which 
was not good for cotton-spinning could be good for anything else.—(Re- 
newed laughter.) ‘“ But,’’ said the same writer, “ let no one blame them 
for forgettiag, in the pursuits of the money speculator and merchant, the 
interest of their country, or at least before doing so let him visit the ports 
of London, Liverpool, or Bristol, and discover—if he can—a purer founda- 
tion for English patriotism.”—(Hear. hear.) 

But he had one more authority for Hon. Gentlemen opposite—their 
darling Adam Smith. The only quarrel he (Mr. Drummond) had with 
Hon. Gentlemen with respect to Adam Smith was that they never would 
read beyond one page of him. (A laugh.) Let them attend to this: 
— As their (the manufacturers’) thowghts, however, are commonly ex- 
ercised rather about the interests of their particular brauch of business 
than about that of society, their judgment, even when given with the 
greatest candour (which it has not been on every occasion), is much more 
tobe depended upon on the former than on the latter. The interest of 
the dealers in any particular branch of trade or manufacture is always in 
some respects different from or even opposite to that of the public.’? 
(Hear, hear.) Yet it was for such menas these that the Legislature had 
acted for mauy years back, and acted still. The manufacturer sent to 
Africa for his cotton, grown by the African labourer; having employed 
the African labourer and shipowner, he would take it home and spin it 
iuto cotton—then it was put on board a French vessel and exchanged for 
French silks or wines, so that from beginning to end not one English la- 
bourer would be employed. (Ironical cheers from the Ministerial benches) 

When the poet, glowing with a fine enthusiasm, exclaims :— 


“ Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, ——— 
_ * + * 
This is my own, my native land ?”” 


“Oh. yes,” says the Hon. Gentleman opposite, “At Manchester there 
are a thousand of them.” (Cheers and laughter.) Not content (continu 
ed the Hon. Gentleman) with resorting to bribery to get up accusations 
agaiust your sailors—not satislied with assaiting them and your naval of- 
ficers with taunts, you now say we have a “superstitious reverence”’ for 
the navy. It may be true we have a superstitious reverence for that gal- 
lant service. It may remain among us yet. Time was when we hed a 
veneration for it. There was indeed a time when we had a national faith 
—wheu we venerated, ay, worshipped, if you like, the statesmen who 
guided the destinies of this country—when we respected the magistrates 
who administered her laws, and admired the seamen and soldiers who 
devoted their lives tu her service—a time when our national creed was 
“ Rule Britannia,” and the finest anthem in our ritual was “God save the 





Queen.” (Cheers.) 

































wer ere oe ae 







a 









































































































RR LEE 


en eee 


Ae 


SELLE BOLO 



















ee eee ee 












CANADIAN REBELS. 
House of Commons, March 19th. 


Mr. F. MACKENZIE gave notice that he would to-morrow ask the 
Under-Secre for the Colonies whether there was any truth in the 
statement which had appeared in a newspaper that day to the eff-ct that 
a bill had been introduced into the Canadian Legislature for the purpe 
of indemnilying persons who had been concerned in the rebellion which 
occurred in that colony in 1837, 1838, for the losses which they had there- 
by sustained. It appeared that one of the objects of that bill was to levy 
money on the the inhabitants of Canada for the purpose of indemnifying 
certain convicts who had been pardoned by Her Majesty, for the incon- 
venience which they had sustained during their voyage to Van Diemen’s 
Land and back. (Hear, hear, and laughter) It was alo alleged that a 

rson named Neilson was to be indemnified for the damage which his 
sen had sustained from Her Majesty's troops, whom it had been for- 
tified to resist. (Laughter ) , , 

Mr. HAWES said he would answer the hon. member’s question at 
ence. No despatch or communication of any kind, confirmatory of the 
article in the Morning Chronicle, to which the hon. member alluded, had 
been received at the Colonial-office. 

Mr. F. MACKENZIE.—Was the house to understand that the hon. gen- 
tleman had no knowledge of such a bill having been brought into the Ca- 
nddian Legislature ? : 

Mr. HAWES had no knowledge of such a bill from any official source; 
nor, indeed, has he any knowledge of the matter at all. 


THE ARMY. 


On the honse going into Committee of Supply on the Army Estimates, 

Mr. F. MAULE said, that in rising to propose the first vote for the 
number of men for the ensuing year, he trusted he should receive the 
kind indulgence of the house, whilst he entered into the details naturally 
and very properly looked for on such occasions from a person in the sit- 
uation le had the honour to fill. The number of men proposed for the 
ensuing year was 103,254. In fixing that number the Government had 
had to review the condition of this empire, and to look at its various in- 
terests, foreign, colonial, aud domestic; and, having done so, it appeared 
to them that the country might be relieved of the burden of 10,000 of the 
number voted last year. The number then voted was 113.847; and, in- 
telligeuce having been received from India, at the close of last year, cal- 
ling upon the Government to supply to that part of Her Majesty’s do- 
minions three regiments of infantry, amounting to about 3,300 men, the 
Government were proceeding to reduce the remainder of the 10,000 by 
discharges and the casualties that occurred ; but other intelligence hav- 
ing lately arrived from India, rendering it necessary to reinforce Her Ma- 
jesty's troops there by two more regiments, which were consequently 
withdrawn from this country, it did net appear to the Government desi- 
rable that the numerical force of the troops remaining here should be re- 
duced ; and, therefore, instead of discharging 7,000, the number was re- 
stricted to 5,000. In considering the number of troops to be maintained 
the Government had had to consider, first, the position of this country in 
its foreign relations; secondly, the force required for our colonial de- 
pendencies; thirdly, the maintenance of order at home; and, fourthly, 
the relief of troops on service abroad. He thought scarcely any one 
would say that, although the alarms which existed at the beginning of 
last year had, to a great extent, passed away, although our shores might 
not be threatened, in the opinivn of even the greatest alarmists, with any 
symptom of invasion,—the aspect of affairs was such as to induce this 
country to assume an entirely inditlerent and unprepared state. The 
hon. member for the West Riding had stated the other night that all Gov- 
eruments of this country had of late years assumed that its pusition was, 
as it were, a nommal state of war He denied that that was the case. 
The Government, in propusing the number of men for this year, was not 
influenced by a comparison with the army of any other state in Europe, 
but by the consideration that, whilstall around appeared to be unsettled, 
it would neither be wise nor prudent that the house should be unpre- 

ared to meet the demands made on the country in the event of a war 

ecoming general in Europe. In the second place, let thsm look to the 
colonies, aud see the claims there. He had looked at the general foree 
distributed over our great colonial empire. In many parts the colonies 
were barely occupied, and could scarcely be said to be in a state of mili- 
defence, but it proved that all Governments had endeavoured to 
make the military charge uf the colonies as light as possible to the peo- 
ple of this country ; aud if they were to preserve the colonies at all, and 
to recognize their claim for military protection, they must make up their 
minds to maintain within them the force they had at present. He did 
not say that in the course of time arrangements might®ot be made to di- 
minish the force, but at present it would not be safe or prudent to do so. 
In Gibraltar we had nearly the same garrison as in 1833, and he alluded 
to that year as being the yearin which a committee of that house had mi- 
nutely gone into all the details of the colonial garrisons, and reported 
their opinion on each. At that time the garrison of Gibraltar was 2,468 
men; it was now 2,700. In the Ionian Jslands in 1833 the force was 
3,090; it was now 2,700. In Western Africa the force in 1833 was 452; 
it was now 600, consisting of part of a West Indian regiment, and was 
maintained for the purpose of recruiting those regiments. At the Cape 
of Good Hope, in 1833, we had 1,779; at present the number was 4,200; 
bat the house knew why the army had been so much increased in that 
colony, and he was afraid that, although it had been at its mazimum in 
1847, when it was 6,131, the condition of that colony would not allow a 
reduction below the presentnumber. In Ceylon the force was somewhat 
less than in 1833, but, looking to the circumstances of that colony (hear), 
and to the papers connected with it before the house (hear), from which 
it might be gathered that scarcely any occurrence of any moment took 
place im India which did not produce a simultaneous effect in Ceylon, he 
thought that any diminution of the garrison there would be a dangerous 
step for this country to take. In Canada, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland, 
the number was7,708. 

Mr. HUMB.—Does that include the Canadian Rifles? 

Mr. F. MAULB continued-—It included the Rifles and the whole North 
America force ; as that country was approaching a state of greater con- 
teutment than had been known for many years, the garrison there might 
be reduced hereafter. The hon. member for the West Riding had said 
that when an increase was made to the army, at any time in the colonies, 
it was uot reduced afterwards when the cause of that increase was re- 
moved. That did not apply to Canada, for whilst in 1838 and 1839, ow- 
ing to the rebellion there, the troops were 13,825, the number nuw was 
pe 7,708. In Bermuda the number was much the same in 1833,—1,080 
In New South Wales the number in 1834 was 2,636. It was now 4,000. 
Bat it must be remembered thut the colony of New Zealand had been 
added to our colonial possessions in that part of the world, and that the 
colonists had had to be defended against the attacks of a very warlike and 
skilful body of natives. In the Mauritias the number in 1833 was 2,000; 
at present it was 1,520; and, considering that the people were not alto- 

ether friendly to Euglish rule, it would not be safe to reduce the num- 

r further. In Jamaica the number in 1833 was 4,000, including the 
black troops; it was now 1,940. In the West indies, not including Ja- 
maica, the number in 1833 was 5,281; it was now 3,160. In St. Helena 
the number now was 375; and in Hongkong (first garrisoned in 1846) 
the number had been reduced trom 2,000 to 1,140. He had asked many 
gentlemen connected with the trade in those seas, and they all agreed 
that it was absolutely necessary to have a military post in that quarter, 
and that Hongkong was the best. He thought that the committee would 
agree with him that it would not be prudent to reduce the colonial force 
lower than it was at presen3. (Hear, hear.) He then came to the next 

consideration, of the force required for the maintenance of peace and 
order at home. He never was ove who wished to maintain order in this 
country by military despotism, but it was necessary to maintain a suffi- 
cient force to protect those who were attached to order, who were em- 
barked in commerce, and ia the general pursuits of peace, in case of tu- 
mult and outbreak (hear, hear,) aud to support the magistrates in the 
execution of their duty, in enforcing the laws against the refractory. At 
this moment the military force in this country consisted of 53,000 men, 
of whom 27,000 were quartered in England and Scotland, and 25,000 in 
Ireland ; these were rauk and file. Of the 25,000 in England, and 2,000 
in Scotland, they were scattered very generally over the manufacturing 
and popuious districts in Lancashire, Yorkshire, and counties of that des- 
cription, aud, numerous as that body might appear to be, the house might 
be surprised to be told that, not in this nor in the past year alone, he 
generally in every year, as far back as he could remember, looking to the 
requirements made by the civil to the military authorities for the aid of 
the military power, that number of troops had no light duty to perform. 

He held in his hand a list of the applications made in the year 1848 by 

the civil magistrates to the military authorities for assistance in preserv- 

ing the peuce on various occasions, and in ditferent towns in this country. 

In that list, were included the towns of Brecon and Cardigaa, Derby, 

Weymouth, Darham, Wigan, Liverpool (on six different occasions) (hear 

bear). Ashton-under-Line, Rochdale, Leicester, Nottingham, Bath, Tei- 

nwouth, Stcktun-on Tees, Birmingham, Dudley, Sheffield, Leeds. Barus- 
ey. Hali!: x, Doncaster, and Keighley. Some ot these applications were 





ters were neglecting their duty, and that the country was not provided 
with troops sufficient to prevent the outbreaks which had taken place. 
At Leeds the mayor had called a meeting, at which resolutions were 
in favour of reform. But the mayor had in one minute signed the 
requisition for that meeting, in order to give the public an “pesttounn of 
expressing their opinions on the subject, and, in the next, had signed a 
requisition to the officer commanding the troops, to furnish him with a 
ileery force in the event of any breach of the peace ne ys J place. (A 
laugh, and “ hear, hear.”) Fortunately, no collision had taken place on 
that occasion, but the circumstance showed that it was considered neces- 
sary to have troops in readiness in the manufacturing and other districts 
of England in which disturbances were anticipated. He believed that it 
was a wise economy to have these troops at hand; that prevention was, 
in 99 cases out of 100, better than cure; and that, althongh the public 
might be taxed a few thousand extra to maintain a greater number of 
troups than would be otherwise absolutely necessary, yet that it was wise 
to do so, inasmuch as they were preventing collision and an effusion of 
blood, from the circumstance of its being known that that the troops 
were at hand, and ready to act, if the occasion should arise for their ser- 
vices. (Hear, hear.) With reference to the fourth consideration, the 
reliet to the troops in India and the colonies, if hon. gentlemen would 
read the speech of Sir R. Peel in 1845, they would remark the stress 
which he had most properly laid on the bounden duty of those who had 
charge of the military arrangements of this country, to see that those who 
had entered into the service of the country should not be banished into 
honourable exile, but that they should have the prospect, within a rea- 
sonable time, of returning to their friends in this country. The rule ack- 
nowledged to be the proper one was, that regiments serving in India 
should not remain there mere than 15 years, whereas they had in some 
instances been compelled to serve there fora period of 26 years; that re- 
giments serving in any of the nearer colonies should not be abroad more 
than 10 years; and that every regiment returning to this country should 
remain here for at least five years. Now, with the numbers of the army 
as at present peapeses by the Government, these desirable ends could 
just be attained, but if the house agreed to the proposition of the hon. 
member for Montrose, and reduced the number by 14,000 men more than 
the Government proposal, the system of relief to which he had adverted 
would be most effectually prevented. He hoped that such a number of 
troops might be obtained as would enable the Horse Guards to relieve 
troops which had served 15 years ia India and 10 in the other colonies, and 
to enable them te serve five years at home; and 103,000 men were not 
more than they were warranted in placing at the disposal of the Govern- 
meut for the purpose of effecting these important objects, and maintaining 
the general interests of the country. 
* * * 
In the course of the ensuing debate, in which Mr. Hume, Sir W. 
Molesworth, Mr. H. Drummond, Mr. V. Smith, Captain Boldero, and 
others took part, 


Mr. COBDEN said they were told that the troops were required on ac- 
count of vur domestic condition. He must confess he had heard with 
very great regret the remarks of the right hon. gentleman the Secretary- 
at-War, with respect to the necessity of keeping troops at home for the 
purpose of keeping down the people. That was the first time snch an 
object had ever been avowed by any member of any Government, for it 
had hitherto been always denied that troops were kept to repress the 
people. (Oh, oh!) It was a very alarming and melancholy state of 
things that it should be avowed in 1849 that we kept up a large force to 
keep duwn the people of England—Euglishmen, who had been always 
considered peculiarly suited for self-government here or abroad, and 
who had always claimed the principle of being governed by the civil 
power. (Oh, oh!”) The right hon. gentleman distinctly avowed that 
object. He said it was for the purpose of keeping peace among the 
people. Some remarks had been made as to the state of the manufac- 
turing towns. He perfectly admitted that the mayors and magistrates of 
some large towns had sent for some troops last year, but there must be 
some fault in the system when such a reiuforcement tu the civil power 
was called for. He thought, on behalf of the middle classes, that those 
who were responsible for the government of the country should introduce 
some large measure with respeet to the working-classes, to bring the 
two into harmony, and that they should, by bringing the latter within 
the pale of the corstitution, take away the disaffection and discontent 
which induced the necessity for employing troops. With respect to the 
immediate vote before the house it must be borne in mind that troops 
had become really much more efficient than they had been a few years 
ago. A great authority—General Gordon—stated to the committee of 
1844 that 1,000 men could, be sent from London to Mauchester ia niue 
hours, and would arrive there fresh as when they started ; whereas, 
before the introduction of railways, they would have taken 17 days for 
the journey, and would have arrived fatigued and exhausted. Though 
he did not admit the necessity of repressing the people by armed men, 
railways nad given tenfold force to their military establishments, and 
if they were necessary the number of men might be reduced, and yet 
the same amount of force be available. He maintained, however, 
that in large or small towns peace might be maintained by the 
civil power, it Government would sanction a mode by which an organized 
body,—not of military or of national guards,—but of specia) constables, 
could be always in readiness to assist the magi trates. Why vot imitate 
America? New York was larger than Liverpool, and yet there were 
neither soldiers nor barracks there, and the peace was kept by the 
police. There wasa fluctuating population of Euglish, Irish, and foreig- 
ners, and he contended that what could be done at New York with Eu- 
glishmen could be done with Englishmen at home. 
Lord J. RUSSELL.—The bon. gentleman, the member for the West 
Riding, who has just spoken, has mentioned two points with respect to 
the estimates, the first with respect to the forces in Canada; the secoud 
with respect to the forces in this country. As regards our forces in 
Canada, it may be quite true that they are nearly double as great in 
amount as they were previous to the breaking out of the rebellion iu that 
province; but I must say that when that rebellion broke out in Canada, 
{could not help being somewhat uneasy on account of the smalluess of 
the torce we had stationed there. (Hear, hear.) Those forces, how- 
ever, behaved with very great inutrepidity; the rebels were not orgau 
ized, and certainly did not make such a resistance as had been expected ; 
and by the skill of our commanders aud by the bravely of our troops. 
the rebellion was happily put down; but I should be very sorry, well 
disposed as Canada is at preseat, to see any great diminution of the forces 
stationed in that country. (Hear, hear.) As to other of our cvlouies, 
certainly there may be some in which reduction may be mave from 
time to time in the number of our troops; but I think the force in our 
colonies is less than it was in 1835. (Hear, hear ) The next poiut ou 
which the hon. gentleman touched requires much more comment. The 
hon. gentleman objected to what he called the system of using troops to 
keep down the people, and said that the principle had been for the first 
time avowed by my right hon. frieud the Secretary-at-war (Mr F. 
Maule). Now, I heard what my right hon. friend said, and [ certaiuly 
heard nothing from him to such an effect. (Cheers.) My right hon. 
friend stated most traly that duriug the past year there had been many 
applications—the greater part of them from the manufacturing and me:- 
cautile towus—not by the military, but by the civil authorities, fur troops 
to preserve peace and order (Hear.) But were these troops to keep 
down the people? (Hear.) By no means. They were to keep duwn 
a certain number of ill conditioned and disaffected persons who wished to 
commit disorder, to promote tumult, aud probably to gain an opportunity 
for plunder, and with whom it is a libel and a calumny to confound the 
people of the country. (Great pope IF The hon. gentleman aske: 
why should not the municipal authorities have power to embody special 
constables to keep the peace? They ure at full liberty tu do so, and may 
swear in special constables to-morrow if they please, but it is after they 
have sworn them in, and wish to support them, that they make applica- 
tion for the military in order to enable the special constables to do their 
duty. (Cheers.) In fact the state of society has changed from the time 
when every mau was ready to arm himself, and to go out into the streets 
to keep the peace of the town. The ‘great mass of the people in towns 
are not accustomed to follow peaceable occupations, and look to other 
forces to enable the peace of the town to be kept, and if you refuse them 
all military assistance, aud if they were to be hurassed week after week. 
aud night after night, by being «allied out to do the duty of special evn- 
stables, it would give rise to great discoutent, aud to numerous complaints 
of the Government of the country. (Cheers.) In effect, therefore, when 
we call in the troops under such circamstances, it is not to keep down 
the people, but to defend the majority from the minority (hear, hear), 
and to protect the great mass of the well-affected against the smaller 
number of the turbulent—persous not well contented, and boys, and 
others very ofteu hardly counected with the towns, but who, if there was 
not some assistauce given to preserve order, would not only be very mis- 
chievous, but commit serious tujuries vn private property. (Hear, bear.) 
| thought it necessary to defend my right bon. triend, and not only thi- 
Government but the general gevernmeut uf the country, from the state- 





made ou ex.remely frivolous aud vexatious grounds; but still, if the mil- 


ments of the hun. geutleman. (Hear, hear.) 





Nothing can be more unfounded than the statement that the military 
force of this country is maintained to keep down the people, and I am 
very sorry that the hon. gentleman, knowing as he must do the histor 
of his country, should have lent his authority to assertions which, if 
Fret cb believed, could do nothing but mischief among the people. 

Loud cheers.) The hon. baronet who addressed the house (Sir W. 
Molesworth) poiuted out many instances among our colonies where a re- 
duction might be made in the number of troops, and referred amon 
others to the case of the Lonian Islands, where he said the force might 
be very greatly reduced. [Hear, hear.] With respect to some of these 
there may be instances where too great a number of troops are main- 
tained, but I am quite sure my noble friend, the Secretary for the Colo- 
nies, watches anxiously for every opportunity by which be may reduce 
the troops, when practicable. I really think, however, when the hon. 
baronet made these remarks the object he had in view was different 
from the object of the Government. We are in possession of a great 
empire, which has been transmitted to us by our forefathers. The hon. 
baronet only thinks of the way in which it may be dimivished. | Cheers. } 
If you will only take away from what you have, instead of occupying a 
larger territory—if you will only withdraw your commanders aud offi- 
cers—no doubt your military forces may be made very much less, and, 
instead of 89,000, as proposed by the hon. member for Moutrose [ Mr. 
Hume.] you may reduce them to 49,000 or 39,000. [Cheers.] But then 
our objects are different. Ours is, to maintain the empire we have in- 
herited from our ancestors in all its integrity. [Cheers.] If ouce you 
say your object is to diminish it, to make it smaller this year than it was 
the year before, and take it away bit by bit, you may of course go on till 
you reduce it to the limits of this island. |Cheers.] That may be an 
economical experiment, but it is not oue in which | should be willing to 
embark. [Cheers.] My belief is, if you give any signs of shrinking 
from your daty of preserving the empire committed to your protection, 
that though you may have no enemy now yoa would fiad soon enough 
you had euemies who would demand something feom you that yoa in 
honour could not grant, and the result would be that instead of such es- 
timates as those before you we should be obliged to ask for war estimates. 
[Loud cheers. } 

CANADIAN REBELS. 
March 23. 

Mr. GLADSTONE proposed the following questions, of which he had 
given notice:—‘* 1. Whether any iustractions have been given to the 
Governor General of Canada as to the course which he is to parsue, in 
the event of its being proposed to him by his advisers to allow them to 
introduce into the House of Assembly any bill giving compensation to 
auy persons known to have been implicated in the rebellions of 1837 
aud 1838, on account of the damage sustained by them in those rebel- 
lions, or in the event of the passing of any such bill through the two 
houses of the Provincial Legislature? 2, Whether, according to the 
usage of Canada, if any such bill should have passed through both houses 
of the Legislature, and should have become an act by the Governor- 
General's assent, without a suspending clause, the money thereby author- 
ized to be paid would be payable forthwith, or before her Majesty’s ser- 
vants had had an opportunity of advising Her Majesty with respect to 
the allowance or disallowance of such act? 3. Whether any official in- 
telligence has yet been received with respect to these transactions in 
Canada, and, itso, whether the Government is prepared to lay it on the 
table?” (Hear, hear.) 

Mr. HAWES said that, in answer to the first question, he could only 
state that his noble triend at the head of the Colonial office had entire 
confidence in the judgment and discretion of Lord Elgin, the Governor 
of Canada, and was not in the habit of fettering his course by instructions 
with respect to hypothetical cases. With respect to the second question, 
he must be permitted to inform the right hon. gentleman, who had him- 
self been Secretary for the Colonies, that all colonial biils—he believed 
without exception—which passed through their formal stages and receiv- 
ed the assent of the crowa, through’ its representative in the colonies, 
came into immediate operation, unless they contained the suspending 
clause. This rule, of course, applied to all bills, whether they appro- 
priated money or not, and, therefore, if such a bill as the right hon. gen- 
Uemao's question referred to had passed, it would come into operation 
aud contiaue to have the force of law, unless it should be disallowed by 
tne Queen. In that case, it would cease to be law only on the arrival of 
Her Majesty’s disallowance in Canada. In answer to the third question, 
he must state that no despatches whatever had been received from Lord 
Elgin with respect to these transactions, either before or since the sub- 
ject had oceupied the attention of the Canadian Assembly, and, therefore, 
there were no despatches to produce. [Here Sir G. Grey made an obser- 
vation to the hon. member.] He used the word “ despatches” advisedly, 
because Lord Grey had received a private letter on the subject. (‘‘Hear, 
hear,” from the opposition benches.) It was only on yesterday it was 
received. 

Mr. HUME asked whether, when Sir C. Metcalfe was in Canada, a 
commission had uot unanimously recommended that £100,000 should be 
appropriated to reimburse persons, excludiug rebels, who had suffered 
losses by the rebellion ? 

Sir G GREY recommended the house to abstain from entering into par- 

ticwlars uatil the Government shouid be in possession of official informa- 
tion on the subject. The hoa. member seemed to think that the Com- 
peusation Bull bad been passed ; but the private letter which Lord Grey 
had received showed that it had not been passed. It had been read a 
second time, aud was to go into committee, when several amendments 
were tobe proposed. That, doubtless, was the reason why Lord Elgin, 
in accordance with the usual practice, had abstained from addressing a 
cenpaten to Lord Grey on the subject. When the bill should pass his 
lordship would no doubt send a despatch on the subject. 
Mr. HUME said, that the right hon. baronet had misunderstood what 
had fallen trom him. When Sir C. Metcalfe was in Canada, he sent a 
dispatch to the Hume Government, to inform them that a commission, 
appvinted on the recommendation of the Canadian Assembly, bad res 
ported in favour of granting £100,000 to persons who had suffered loss 
iu consequence of the rebellion. Was not the Government cognizant of 
‘hat fact, and might it not be the origin of the bill which had been intro- 
duced into the Assembly ? 

Sir G. GREY believed that there was a report of the kind alluded to 
by the hon. member; but the question was, whether the object contem- 
plated by the commission from which the report proceeded was identii 
cal with that of the parties who had introduced the bill into the Canadian 
Assembly. It was impossible to know what would be the nature of the 
bil’ which the Cauadian Legislature might ultimately sanciion, and it 
was best to pustpove all discussion until the Government should be in 
possession of information on the subject. 

Mr. GLADSTONE said he held in his hand the notes of the Legislative 
Assembly containing the resolutions moved, together with the amend- 
ments proposed and rejected. He was aware thatit would not be 
strictly in order Jor him to read from this document ; it was for the house 
to determine whether he shuuld do so. (Cries of “ Read, read.) The 
right hon. gentleman was about to read, when 

Sir G. GREY rose to order. The right hon. gentleman had asked cer- 
tain questions, which had been answered, and he had no right to read the 
resolutions referred to. The reading of the resolutions must necessatily 
lead to debate. No doubt a commission was issued to inquire into cases 
of loss sustained, and it appeared from what he bad read in the news- 
papers that it was a disputed question whether it was the intention of the 
parties who had introduced the bill into the Assembly to carry the recom- 
meudatious of the commission into effect or not. , 

Mr. GLADSTONE thought that the course which he wished to take, 
uamely, that of reading a public and official document, was not an unjust 
oue. (Hear, near). He was sorry that he had been prevented from 
reading the document because it appeared to him fhat the answer which 
the right hon. baronet had given to the hon. member for Moatrose was 
calculated to convey an erroueous impression. (Hear, hear) 

Mr. ROBINSON wished to know whether, whea the hon. Under-Sec- 
retary for the Colonies spoke of a Canadian bill receiving the assent of 
the Crown, he meant as given through the Queen’s representative in the 
colony ? 

Mr. HAWES replied in the affirm+t ve. 

——_— OE 

Sincutar anp Fatat Marixe Uisaster.—The following, from the 
Baltimore Sun of the 11th inst. details as remarkable and distressing a 
circum.tance as stands recorded in maritime annals. ‘“ By the arrival at 
tunis port yesterday of Mr. J. A. Milburn, Baltimore pilot, we have been 
made acquainted with an adventure, melancholy in its results. On the 
31st of March, the Baltimore pilot-boat Coquette, Captain I. B. Sable, with 

Messrs, J. A. Milburn, John Haney, Thos. H. Bolt, Thomas M. Watts, 
wud Rober. M. Ling, pilots on board, while cruising in latitude 36 14, 
about sixty miles from Cape Henry, and about thirty-five miles from land, 
fell in with a wreck of what they supposed to be a sloop, bottom upward. 
lhe water was bere about twenty fathoms deep. The small boat was 
launched, and seut to the wreck, when it was discovered that she bore 
tne name ot the “ Thomas Russell, of Cape May.” Some of them got on 





the bottom, for at this time the after part was floating well out of water, 








. ae 


10 RPVTwVrPesesevstFt we Y 


1849. 


ile the forward was down, her head being under. Mc. ing was 
pany oh bottom, and “bring! his head close to the planks, he thought he 
heard a noise inside—listening again, he was assured that there were per- 
sons alive inside. With those gallant men, it required but a moment to 
act. Raps were given on the bottom to inform those inside that they 

were heard. Axes and saws were instantly brought, and all hands went 
to work to cut through the bottom to rescue those inside. In short 
time they could be heard speaking. A hole being made, the confined 
air escaped very fast, causing the vessel to settle more and more. They 
conversed with those inside and learned that there were five of them. 
Time being precious, they continued cutting as fast as they could, having 
the assistance, also, of a stout colored man, the cook o the pilot boat 

The hole being cut, one man came to it but could not get out. From him 
they learned that the name of the captain of the vessel was Brady, at 
least so it was understood. Efforts were still made to cut a larger hole, 
to allow them egress. 

The vessel el settling. At this time three had been drowned. 
The man who had his head out, drop back, and as he went in, he 
looked upon the bright sun and remarked, “ this is the last sun I shall 
ever see.” Tho efforts of the pilots were redoubled, but without avail, 
the whole of those inside hing, so fast did the vessel settle, before a 
hole large enough to get them out could be made. Every conceivable 
effort was ondetal the pilots, which was urged on by hearing the efforts 
of the drowning men to breathe and sustain themselves until relief 
could be afforded. : how 

They all perished together in a few minutes after the hole was cut 
which allowed the air toescape ; and the last heard from them were sup- 
plications to the Great Arbiter of events to have mercy on them and save 
them. While the men were at work the sea was breaking over them, 
which greatly retarded their operations. It is vy y the pilets 
that the vessel was capsized on the 27th or 28th of March, and that the 
lost persons had been confined about three days. There was a severe 
gale at that time. The opportunity for conversation with the lost men 
was so brief that their names, or the cause of the disaster, were not as- 
certained. Indeed, so intent were the pilots in their efforts for a rescue, 
that they did not take time to make inquiries. Mr. Milburn informs us 
that in the course of his experience he never saw a similar circumstance, 
and that the events he witnessed, iu a few brief moments which passed 
between the discovery of the wreck and the perishing of her crew, can 
never be effaced from his wr 4 All that men could do was done, 
and with a hearty good will, but all effort was unavailing. We may add 
here, that the vessel appeared to be at anchor, as she was steady, with 
the tide ranning by her. It is supposed that when she capsized, her 

anchor and chains must have run out, aud brought her to her present po- 
sition. 













— — 


TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS REWARD. 
[OFFICIAL NOTICE.] 

Her Britannic Majesty's Consulate, New York, April 9th, 1849. 
HE undersigned desires to give public noticethat Her Majesty’s Government offers a 
Reward of £20,000, tobe given tosuch private ship, or distributed amongst such private 
ships, of any country, as may, in the ned of the Board of Admiralty, have rendered e'- 
ficient assistance to SIR JOHN FRANKLIN, his ships, or their crews, may have con- 

tributed directly to extricate them from the ice, in the Arctic Regions. 
ANTHONY BARCLAY, H. B. M. Consul. 


ST. GEORGE'S SOCIETY. 


IXTY-THIRD ANNIVERSARY.—The Anniversary Dinner will take place on Monday, 

the 23d instant, at the City HoTe., at5p. Mm. Members «nd others desirous of obta‘nin, 
tickets, can procure them of the Stewards, J.C. Wells, 17 Wall street, Geo. B, Browne, 
Hall Place, Henry Jessup, 91 John street, and Thomas Rnock, 172 Broadway ; also at the of- 
fice of this paper. 








Exchange at New York en London, at 60 days, 106. 


GUE AMBION. 


NEW YORK, SATURDAY, APRIL 14, 1849. 











The Hermann, Steamship, arrived here yesterday from Bremen and 
Southampton, having left the latter port on the 26th ult. She brings 
some news of interest. In the Germanic Diet at Frankfort the proposi 
tion to elect the King of Prussia to the Imperial throne was rejected by 
a vote of 283 against 252. The Piedmontese troops crossed the Ticino 
into Lombardy on the 20th ult., and some skirmishing took place on the 
2ist. The war is begun. It is feared that hostilities will be renewed 
between the King of Naples and the Sicilians, efforts at compromise hav- 
ing failed, French troops are held ready at Toulon to embark for the 
Roman States, if the Austrians should interfere between the Pope and 
his late subjects. The last quoted price of British Consols was 914. 
Some California gold is said to have arrived in London. 





The condensed statement of European news per Niagara, that we gave 
last Saturday, might be amplified to indefinite extent, so crowded are the 
journals we receive with detuils of events occuring in all quarters of the 
globe. But our spaceis so limited that we can make but brief selec- 
tions. 

The depressing intelligence frora the Continent of Europe, to which we 
made reference, is not comprised in any single event—a riot, a revolu- 
tion, ora battle. It isthe generally warlike aspect of affuirs that causes 
uneasiness in England lest she should unavoidably be plunged into the ex- 
penses and inconveniencies of a general war. Nicholas, the energetic, able. 
fearless autocrat of all the Russias, is proclaiming his intention to uphold 
the Treaties of 1815, or in other words to interpose in National quarrels 
whenever and wherever he thinks fit. The Germans, exasperated against 
him, and still fondly and foolishly dreaming of German Unity, are pressing 
their Imperial crowa upon the acceptance of the cautious King of Prus- 
sia, coupled with the proviso that he will head them in arms against the 
Czar. The youthful Emperor of Austria, dissolving the Assembly, has 
promulgated anew Constitution, grauting liberal instuittions to his subjects 
with all the appliances of an enlightened Constitutional Monarchy. 
Whether this be a sop in the pan, to quiet men’s minds in Austria Proper, 
whilst battle bedonein Hungary and Lombardy, is a matter by no means 
clear. Warfare in the meantime is actively carried on in Hangary be- 
tween the Imperial troops and the Hungarians, though without any im- 
portant results ; whilst Lombardy appears again destined to be drenched 
with blood. The King of Sardinia at Turin and Rade tzky at Milan are 
girding on their swords, and ere this time it is more than probable that 
hostilities have commenced. Under pretext of adesire for establishing 
Italian independence we believe the Piedmontese really covet possession 
ofthe rich cities and fertile plains of Lombardy. Liberty is their cry, 
but annexation their moving principle. Theable veteran at the head of 
the Austrian army will probably be more than a match for them, if a fair 
appeal to arms be made. 


The Pope remains in undignified seclusion at Gaeta. The threatened 
armed interference on his behalf does not come toa head ; whilet in Rome 
itseems not impossible, that the Republicans, weary of contesting for 
power amongst themselves may some day recall His Holiness to his tem- 
Poral throne. More unlikely events have come to pass. 

As tohome affairs, and the favourable news from India—no further battle 
had been fought between Lord Gough and Shere Singh up to the 3rd of 
February; and the latter had made overtures of some sort, to which Lord 
Gough would not accede. We earnestly trust that there will be no 
Patching up a peace, unless the Governor General can dictate his own 
terms. General Whish, with a portion of his force marched on the 27th 
January from Moulten to join Lord Gough. H. M. 60th Rifles with a 
Portion of the Bombay detachment under Brigadier General Dundas 
marched also for the same destination, three days later. Six peupenio’ 
of H. M. 53rd Foot have left Lahore for the Commander in-Chiet’s Camp 
for which the total reinforcements are estimated at 15.000 men. Our - 
campment was about four miles distant from the Sikh tation and was 

being strongly fortified. There appears a possibility that Shere Singh 
‘May have detached a portion of his army to meet the advancing tien 






+ & 4 tow. 
ments; bat such a movement, could scarcely fail to be known and coun- 
teracted, nor is there much apprehension felt on this score. 

Our prisoners in the hands of the Sikhs had been welltreated. Major 
Lawrence had been allowed to join his wife and family in the fortress of 
Sukkoo. We cannot to-day make room for a var.°ty of minor incident, 
of interest, amongst others an account of the exhamation #24 re-burial 
with funeral honours of the bodies of Messrs. Agnew and Anderson, 
who were treacterously murdered at the outbreak of the insurrection 
that has led to such important events. 

Sir Charles Napier was to leave London for India on the 24th ult., vid 
Marseilles. He goes out with every confidence reposed in him by his 
Sovereign, his gallant brothers in arms, and the whole community of 
Great Britain. He does not go out now to win bis laurels; his military 
fame stands recorded. He goes simply in obedience to the call of his 
coun try, and its confidence is not misplaced. 

We can only make room for some gleanings of Parliamentary sayings 
and doings. They include a short speech by Mr. Drammond on the 
Navigation Laws, and what passed in the House of Commons on the 19th 
and 23d ult. relative to the Canadian Rebellion Losses bill. We were not 
wrong last Saturday in anticipating that this matter will make a great 
stir in the Imperial Parliament. Fox Maule’s opening remarks on bring- 
ing forward the army estimates on the 19th ult. with some sneering com- 
ments by Mr. Cobden, and Lord John Russell’s indignant denial of his im- 
putations will be found under the same head. The very slender majority, 
56 in a house of 476, by which the Bill for the Repeal of the Navigation 
Law was carried into committee on the 12th ult. confirms the opinion 
we repeatedly expressed, that no important change would take place. 
The bill will probably undergo such mutilation in committee that its 
framers will scarcely own it. Amendments are undoubtedly required 
and will probably be made in our maritime code, but the great 
principle of protection for shipping will for the present be confirm- 
ed. Weare no monopolists, no advocates of class interests; but the safe. 
ty of Great Britain depends mainly on her naval force, and we therefore 
deprecate any experiments that may by possibility tend to weaken it, 
This virtual defeat of the administration would in other days have thrown 
it out of office. But the times have changed, and there is no longer a see~ 
suw between the ins and outs. Other trouble is in store for the Ministry, 
touching Canadian affairs, of which we have au inkling, by the Niagara : 
the eud will be by-and-by. 

Our military force for the current year is to be 103,000 men—the naval, 
40,000, including 12,000 marines, and 2000 boys. These, the Govern- 
ment estimates, were voted by large majorities, the threatening aspect of 
affuirs putting Mr. Cobden and Peace societies altogether in the back 
ground. 






We take shame to ourselves that we so rarely speak of the Gracious 
Lady Queen Victoria, the account of whose drawing rooms and soirées 
has so often filled a column in this journal. It is not from lack of 
loyalty or of interest therein, but from the pressure of other important 
matters. The quiet, unobstrusive, private life of Her Majesty calls for 
no record, and for the pomps and pageanteies of the court we have 
not lately had much room. We observe that Sir C. Napier paid a visit 
to Osborne House before his departure, and that a Levee, very nume- 
rously attended, was held at St. James’s Palace on the 21st ult. 

Trouble appears to Le apprehended in China. The Government of 
that country is bound by treaty to open the gates of the city of Canton to 
our countrymen at a certain date in the present month. The admission 
of “ outside barbarians” is very unpalatable to the Chinese, and it will 
require much discretion on the part of Mr. Bonham, the Governor of 
Hong Kong, to assert our rights, impress the natives with a sense of our 
power, aud at the same time avoid hostilities with a people whom it is 
inglorious to vanquish, and unsafe to despise. 





Very unfortunately, in the present interesting state of Canadian poli- 
tics, the letter of our impartial Montreal Correspondent has failed to 
come to hand, although he takes the precaution to post his letters two 
days earlier than is requisite in the summer season. In the meantime, 
as the telegraphic communications do not record avy events of im- 
portance, we have only to deplore the occurrence at Toronto on Fri- 
day night last of a most disastrous and destructive fire. From the British 
Colonist of Tuesday last we gather the melancholy particulars. The Ca- 
thedral Church of St. James is totally destroyed, and three entire blocks 
of buildings in the centre of the business part of the town are burned to 
ashes. The old City Hall is a mass of ruins, but the rest of the market- 
square was with difficulty saved. The establishments of the Patriot and 
Mirror newspapers were destroyed. The Colonist says :— 


We have to add, the melancholy intelligence of the death of Mr. Richard Wat 
son, publisher of the Upper Canada Gazette, who perished in the flames, while 
endeavouring to save some of the property in the Establishment of the Patriot 
office. Diligent search was made among the ruins, and in the afternoon of Satur- 
day, the remains of his body were discovered in a very mutilated state, and re- 
moved to his late residence preparatory to their interment. Mr. Donlevey, of the 
Mirror office, sustained some injury, but not of a very serious nature.—his ancle 
having been dislocated. The Patriot establishmeut was insured. The Publish- 
ers lost no time in effecting a temporary arrangement fur the publication of their 
Journal, and 1t was issued yesterday as usual, Bat reduced in size. 


Oar sincere coudvleuce is otfered on this melancholy occasion. The 


total pecuniary loss is set down at £100,000, of which £56,000 is covered 
by insurance. 





THE BRITISH ADMIRALTY, 
THE ARCTIC EXPEDITION—JOHN MITCHEL. 

We invite public attention to the advertisement above, wherein a most 
liberal boon is off-red by the British Government to any parties rendering 
succour to our missing countrymen who compose the Arctic Expeuition 
under command of Sir J hn Fravklin. They are supposed to be hemmed in 
amidst the PolarSeas, Lurge as is the pecuniary inducement here held 
o.tin the hope of stimulating the exertions of Northern Whalemen, it is 
as nothing compared to the applaases and the gratitude with which the 
civilized world will baila successful effort to discover and extricate this 
gallant band of seameu. Courage, judgment, and perseverance united 
may perchance accomplish the uvble deed; and we have heard it ru- 
moured, that a party of young men of this community, prompted by the 
love of adventure, aud a desire for distinction, and partly instigated by 
the prize held out, are makiag efforts to organize an expedition forth- 
with, for the purpose of prosecuting the search. If they go, God speed 
them ! 

The following official documeat, which we are enabled to lay before 
our readers, gives soine iutimation ot the route proper to be pursued: 


Admiralty, 23rd March, 1849. 
The Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty are Vader tho Lncbisies of 


laying a supplementary Estimate for the relief of the Arctic E iti 
ad Sir John Frauklia, aud Sir James Russ, upon the table of the 
ouse, 


Their Lordships having been apprized by the last letters received from 
Sir James Ross, that it was his intention to direct the Investigator to land 
all the supplies that she could spare at Whaler Point aud wo proceed to 
England, if notidiags of the Expedition uuder Sir J. Franklin were re- 
ceived by the Whale ships uow abut to sail, leaving the Enterprise to 
prosecute the searci aluue,—have cousulted the highest Naval authorities 
as to the probubie cousequences of this step. ™ , 

They find it to be (be unanimous opinion of those most conversant with 
the Polar Seas, that such a separation of the Ships under Sir James Ross, 
would be most perilous to the Ship remaining in the ice, aud would pro- 


bably neutralise tue eutire object of the Expedition, it Sir Joun Frankliu’s 
party were to be discovered at a time when the Enterprise had early 
exhausted ber own swres. They have therefore, determined upon send 





iug out afresh supply of provisions fur both ships by the North Siar, which 







175, 


is now fitting, for this aay with orders to proceed 
across Baffin’s Bay, png much farther as " in the direction of 


eee Sound, and Barrow Straits, looking out for the Investigator, or 
er boats. 
In the event of the Investigator not being ta. !em im with, the Command- 
er of the North Star will be directed to land the ».‘?Plies at such points on 
the South side of Lancaster Sound, or other places im. | by ir J 
Ross, as may be accessible to the North Star, in sufficien.’ “™° ” 
his teturn across Bafiin’s Bay before the Winter sets in. 4 

The expense of fitting the North Star for the ice, will be £600.; %d 
the wages of the crew, stores, and provisions, on board, £6602, ; 
£12,688 in all, which constitate the supplementary Estimate now sub- 
mitted to the House. But, in addition to this, Her Majesty’s Government 
has determined to offer a reward of £20,000, to be given to such private 
ship, or distributed amongst such private ships, of any country, as may, 
in the judgment of the board of Admiralty, have rendered efficient assis- 
tance to Sir John Franklin, his ships or their crews, and may have con- 
tributed directly to extricate them from the ice. H. G. Warp. 


We have in the next place to call notice to the following correspond- 
ence, that speaks for itself, and only requires a few words of explanation. 
The matter has a double interest. In the first place, some of the ultra 
and intensely anti-British papers of this country raised an outcry against 
the severity with which John Mitchel was said to bave been treated on 
his voyage from Cork to Bermuda. In the second place, there were not 
wanting persons. zealous for the honour of the British Navy, who blamed 
the conduct of the commanding officer of the Scourge for exercising a 
species of hospitality towards a man convicted of conspiring against the 
Queen. We commend these letters to the perusal ef both parties, confi- 
dent that they will agree with us that the mystery about the matter is 
cleared up in a highly honourable and satisfactory manner. The cool ap- 
proval of the Admiralty is communicated in the phlegmatic tone general- 
ly adopted by the heads of Departments of State. The most delicate and 
difficult tasks are entrusted to subordisate officers, much being left to 
their discretion. If all go well. these latter get but slight thanks—if a 
false step be made, they become the scapegoats of the administration. 
The public, however, see things ina more simple point ot view, and will, 
we believe, award great credit to Commander Wingrove, for the judg- 
ment, humanity, and moral courage that he exhibited upon this occasion. 
It must be borne in mind that he did not receive the letter of hints and 
instractions from Mr. Ward, the Secretary to the Admiralty, intended for 
his guidance. 











No. l. 


Copy ofa letter from H. G. Ward, Esq., Secretary of the Admiralty, to 
Commander Wingrove, H.M. steam-vessel Scourge. 
(Private and confidential. ) 
Admiralty, May 29, 1848. 

Sir,—You will receive with this an official letter directing you to take 
on board any supernumeraries that you may find at Cork, whose direc- 
tion may be the West Indies, and any “ prisoners’”” who may be consign- 
ed to your charge by the proper authorities ; and to proceed with them 
to Bermuda. 

This last order refers,as you may suppose, to Mr. Mitchel, and I write 
by Lord Auckland’s desire to convey to you the wishes of her Mujesty’s 
Government as to his treatment while on board the Scourge. 

So long as you are in sight of land, or in any situation in which you con- 
sider it possible that escape may be attempt d, or a rescue conte 
you cannot be too strictin your precautions ; bat once at sea itis not the 
intention of the Government that Mr. Mitchel should be treated with un- 
necessary harshness, or with anything that could be mistaken for vindic- 
tive severity. You will consider him, therefore, as a prisoner subject to 
all such regulations as you may deem necessary for his security ; but you 
will take care that, both as regards food and daily exercise, he shall have 
such indulgence as the state of his health, which is understood to be much 
broken, may seem to you to require. 

The case is one in which much ought to be left to the discretion of the 
officer in command, because much must depend on the conduct of the 
prisoner; bat supposing this to be suitable to the circumstanees in 
which he is now placed, and marked by a proper submission to your au- 
thority, nothing can be further from the wish of the Government than to 
add to the penalties which Mr. Mitchel has incurred, by any unnecessary 
severity during the voyage,—lI have, &c. H. G. Warp. 

P.S. Your first object must be to select a cabin for Mr. Mitchel’s con- 
finement, at the door of which a sentry may be placed, if necessary, and 
where his meals are to be taken. H.G 

No. 2. 


Copy of a letter from Commander Wingrove to Vice-Admiral the Earl of 
Dundonald, G.C.B. 


Her Majesty’s steam-sloop, Scourge, 
Halifax, November 6, 1848. 

My Lord,—I have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your let- 
ter of this day’s date, directing me to furnish your Lordship, for the infor- 
mation of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, with a detailed re- 
port of the line of conduct pursued by me towards the convict John Mitch- 
el, on his passage to Bermuda, and in most respectfully stating my reasons 
for adopting such line of conduct, &c., it will also be my duty to enclose 
the duplicate ofa letter on the subject I received from Mr. Redington, the 
Under Secretary of State for Ireland. 

The Scourge arrived at Cork on the morning of the 31st of May, and on 
the following morning, at six o’clock, the prisoner was embarked, and 
the vessel sailed for her destination. There was no senior officer present 
to whom [| could apply for that advice 1 was so desirous to obtain res- 
pecting the exact treatment the prisoner ought to receive. There was 

no time to seek it by letter, the Commander-in-Chief being absent at 
Dublin; Mr. Redington’s letter to me,conveying the wishes of his Excel- 
lency the Lord Lieutenant, was therefore my chief guide, and in giving 
it my most anxious consideration, it occurred to me that although Mr. 
Mitchel had been convicted of a very grave offence, from which the mind 
of every loyal subject mast recoil, still he had not committed burglary, 
theft, or any of those crimes which would sink him below the level of his 
former sphere, in which I was informed he reviously moved as a barris- 
ter, as wellas the editor of a paper. Looking again at the tenor of his 
Excellency’s directions, it also appeared to me to be his Lordship's desire 
that the prisoner should receive as much indulgence as was compatible 
with his safe custody, bearing in mind that he had been used to the society 
of educated men and the comforts of life, while at the same time I was 
distinctly informed that he was not during the passage to be regarded as 
a commoncriminal. Under these circumstances, and anxiously mindfal 
of the great responsibility of such a charge, it became most difficult for 
me to decide in what part of the ship he should be placed, or how he 
should be watched, so as to ensure his safe custody. I could not put bim 
with the officers, neither could I place him near the ship’s company ; in- 
deed I must admit that I felt particularly anxious he shou!d not be where 
by eny possibility he might disseminate those principles which sentenced 
him to transportation, or where he could have such uncontrollable oppor- 
tunities of establishing mischievous communication of a nature calculated 
seriously to embarrass the difficulty of his safe custody at Bermuda. 

My object was to convey him to the place of his banishment with the 
least motive to exasperation, so faras he or his p»rtizans were concerned, 
and with the least risk of bad consequences upon my own people after- 
wards. Then, again, it occurred to me I should be held responsible if this 
convict had committed suicide upon awakening to a real sense of his situa- 
tion, which from the anguish of his mind there really seemed reason to 
apprehend on first leaving his native land I considered it my duty to 
endeavour to calm these feelings as much as possible, and for this reason, 
as well as others, I did not consider him safe, indeed I could not rest sa- 
tisfied, unless he wa$ under my own immediate eye; therefore, I waived 
all personal feelings, which were muchindeed at variance with the course 
[ thought it best to pureue, and allotted to the prisoner a portionof my 
cabin, and gave him his meals at my own table, taking special care to in- 
vite no ove else while he remained on board, at the same time confining 
him to the strict observa'ion of the sergeant of marines and one sen 
whenever be took an airing on deck ; two sentries watched himalso by 
night, The result was successful; the prisoner was landed safely at Ber 
muda, in comparative health and calmness of mind, though he suffered 
acutely from analarming malady during the passage, which the surgeon 
informed me might cut the thread of his existence in a moment. 

_ He was landed before bis arrival could possibly be anticipated on the 
island. Having thas successfully performed this responsible as well as 
most disagreeable duty to the best of my judgement, having conscienti- 
ously acted for what I considered the good of the service, having adop- 
ted that course which I thought wouid be most consonant with the wishes 
of her Majesty’s Government, and disclaiming all sympathy with the pri 

soner beyond that which is due from one Christian to another in para wid 




















SP er 
































































176. 
confidently trust their Lordships will be pleased to extend to me 
bor ee $0 which under all the very peculiar circumstances of the 


tee! that I am justly entitled.—I have, &c., 
_—.. pe Hewry Epw. Wiverove, Commander. 


Dublin Castle, May 30, 1848. 
r* Sir,—Iam directed by the Lord-Lieutenant to convey to you his Excel- 
lency’s desire that John Mitchel, whom you have been instructed to con- 
vey as a prisoner to Bermuda, should, during the voyage, receive as much 
indulgence as is compatible with his safe custody. He should not be 
ironed, nor is it necessary that he should wear the convict dress. Although 
Mr. Mitchel has been convicted of felony, he is a man of education, used 
to the society of educated men and the comforts ef life, and he is, there- 
fore, during his passage, not to be regarded as a common criminal, or trea- 
ted with unnecessary severity. 
Lhave, &c. } 
The officer commanding her Majesty's ship Scourge. 


T. Repineron. 


No. 3. 
ofa Letter from Captain W. A. B. Hamilton, Second Secretary of the 
Banna , to Vice-Admiral the Earl of Dundonald, G.C.B 
(Seeret) 
Admiralty, Dec. 11, 1848. 
My{Lord—Having laid before my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty 
your letter of the 6th instant, enclosing a statement from Commander Win- 
, of the Scourge, reiative to the treatment of the convict Mitchel by 
, on his passage to Bermuda, and giving it as your opinion that Com- 
mander Wiugrove acted up to the tenor and spirit of his instructions from 
the Lord-Lieutenapt of Ireland,and that their Lordships will approve of the 
lenity shown by Commander Wingrove ; I am commanded to acquaiut 
ou that my Lords are disposed, generally, to approve of Commander 
Wingrove's conduct, but upon the understanding that the convict was not 
admitted to partake of his meals in the company and as the guest of the 
commander, although he may have had his meals in the commander’s cabin. 
Iam, &c., W.A. B. Hamitton. 
No. 4. 
Copy ofa letter from Rear Admiral the Hon. D. A. Mackay, to the Sec- 
retary of the Admiralty. 
Cove of Cork, March 14, 1849. 
Sir,—In reply to your letter of the 12th inst, I have the honour to report 
for the information of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, that the 
instructions addressed to Commander Wingrove, of the Scourge, relative 
to the convict Mitchel, were received at this port on the evening of the 
31st of May last; but as the envelope was addressed to me, and mark ed 
“ private and confidential,” it was forwarded te Dablin where I received 
it on the evening of the 1st of June, too late to be sent to the Scourge, as 
I knew she was to have left Cork at daylight that morning ; I therefore 
retained the letter in my possession, and now return it in the state in 
which it was received.—I have, &c., 
(Signed) Donatp H. Mackay, Rear-Admiral. 





T. B. Macautay—Ortnocraray.—Extracts have appeared in print from 
two letters written, at different times, by this distinguished writer to the 
Messrs Harpers of this city on the subject of the alleged mis-spelling. We 
have not hitherto taken notice of them, although originating the complaint 
against the Harpers, because these extracts really leave the question at 
issue exactly where they foundit. Mr. Macaulay desires only that his _ 
works sbould follow in this country its own approved orthography. 
Whether they have followed it, Mr. Macaulay neither knows uor cares. 
Our first protest against the perversion of the commonly received inode 
of spelling bears date several months earlier than the publication of this 
History of England. We commend to admirers of eloquence tke glow- 
ing harangue delivered by Mr. Macaulay on hia inauguration as Lord Rec- 
tor of Glasgow University, on the 21st ult, which will be found on our 
tenth page. 

We regret to learn from a Barbadoes paper brought to Mobile Point by 
the R. M. Steamer 7'hames that riotous proceedings took place near Cas- 
tries, St. Lucia, in the early part of last month. They appear tu have 
been partly caused by a local tax bearing heavily upon the free blacks of 
a particular district, and partly instigated by some Red Republican 
French refugees trom Martinique. A very small detachment of the 54th 
and 3rd W. I, Regiments suppressed the insurrection, eight persons hav- 
ing been shot in the conflict. Lieutenant.-Genl. Berkeley promptly des- 
patched 100 men of the 72ad Regt., and a company of the 2ad W. I. 
Regt. from Barbadoes to St. Lucia, to re-inforce the Garrison. The 
authorities appear to have acted on the occasion with extreme for- 
bearance. 

We regret to observe that the flourishing Colony of New Zealand was 
visited by a succession of earthquakes in October last. The shocks were 
very numerous, lasting through an anxious succession of nine days, but 
fortunately not resulting in any serious loss of life. Two children killed, 
and a Barrack-Sergeant severely hurt, is the amount of personal injury. 
Many houses were destroyed, and other property suffered damage. 








Catirorni1a.—The only important item this week is the positive an- 
nouncement of the arrival of the Lexington U. S. Store ship from San 
Francisco at Valpuraiso, on the 28th of February. She had about $400,000 
in gold dust on board, a portion of which was to be left at that port, and 
the remainder to be brought hither. She sailed again on the 2nd of 
March. A small schooner sailed from Valparaiso on the 25th of Novem- 
ber, with several passengers, and a cargo worth $40,000, bound to San 
Francisco. She touched at the Gallipagos Islands, and whilst the Captain 
and passengers were on shore on the 20th of December, the mate and two 
hands put to sea and left them. They suffered severely from want of sub- 
sistence and comfort until the 14th of February when a small vessel of 11 


tons burthen chanced to touch there and carried them safely to Guay- | 


aquil, Nothing has been heard of the Chilian schooner. It is supposed 
she will put into some Mexican port. May the piratical rascals be. over- 
hauled! 

By late accounts from Santa Fe, we are glad to learn that Capt. Cath- 
cart, the English officer mentioned last Saturday as accompanying C ol. 
Fremont’s disastrous expedition, was not amongst those who perished. 
He has suffered severely in health from privation and exposure, and is 
forced to abandon his Westward project, intending, we hear, to return 
to the United States. 

Vice Admiral, the Earl of Dundonald, arrived at Bermuda on the 2nd 
justant, in the Wellesley, flag.ship. 








The city election on Tuesday last resulted in favor of the Whigs. The 
new City Charter was adopted, and Caleb Woodhull, Esq., was chosen 
Mayor of New York. Great improvements are expected in the adminis- 
tration of the civic government. 





We are authorized to state that the painful rumour lately in cir- 
culation regarding Fitz Greene Halleck is entirely without foundation. 
Mr. Halleck has been suffering under an attack of brain fever. He was 
not removed from his own residence, and we are most happy, in common 
with his numerous friends, to say that he is now perfectly convalescent. 
We purposely abstained from giving carrency to the rumour, but gladly 
give publicity to the actual facts of the case. A little reluctance to pub- 
lish such distressing reports would save an infinity of anguish. 


The first anniversary dinner of the Dramatic Fund Association, post- 
poned from last Tuesday on account of the Municipal elections, will po- 
sitively take place at the Astor House on Tuesday evening next. Tickets 
are said to be in great demand, s0 lively is the interest felt, and so attrac- 
tive will be the gathering of the choicest spirits of New York. 





We commend to the practical nutice of our British readers in this loca- 
lity the fact that on Monday week the Festival of St. George will be cele- 
brated at the City Hotel. The announcement is made in an advertisement 


He Albion. 


above. Loyalty in the widest acceptation of the term, good fellowship, 
and charity to our poorer countrymen, all unite in claiming from us a 
hearty response to the call. In these times it especially behoves us to 
rally round the standard of St. George. 


fAusic. 


Astor Piracy Opera Hovse.—During the present week the Opera of 
Belisario has been performed twice to very respectable audiences. It 
is true that the old subscribers have withheld the light of their presence; 
but it bas been their loss as much as the manager’s, and if they have 
withheld their dollars they have lost the best entertainments yet given 
within the walls of the Opera House. The New York public is indeed a 
capricious body, and it is a hard thing to know how to cater for its pa- 
tronage. Taste is not with it asettled power, it changes with every 
object offered to its consideration. Great success may for a time attend 
an expensive and excellent enterprise, but just as the tide of favour 
seems fairly set in, a sudden coldness will intervene, and the tide falls 
more rapidly than it rose. No man should commence an enterprise 
which depends upon the waywardness of the public, unless he has the 
means to sustain himself under every change. One Operatic -scason 
carried through defiant of all circumstances would establish that refined 
and delightful amusement permanently in this city, for stability is the 
idol of the public, and can lead it as it will. 

The Opera has been fairly performed upon each occasion, the only 
drawback to complete enjoyment being the hoarseness of Signor Novelli. 
That excellent artist, however, struggled through it manfully, doing 
what no other Italian singer would have done, for the generality of these 
tender song-birds shrivel up at the first symptom of cold, and would rather 
disappoint a dozen audiences than inconvenienee themselves for one 
moment. But Novelli is a man as well as an artist, and he will sacrifice 
something for those who always warmly appreciated him, and we think 
that such considerate conduct deserves to be mentioned to his credit. 

Borghese deserved on each night all the praise that we bestowed upon 
her first performance. Indeed we think that her acting on Monday and 
Wednesday was more admirable than ever. She is a true artiste in 
every sense of the word, and it is always a pleasure to us to see her upon 
the stage, for we feel perfect confidence in her, knowing that she will 
accomplish all within the capacity of her physique. Corelli is rapidly 
gaining upon the public favour. As we predicted, the want of natural 
sweetness in his voice is forgotten in the excellence of his style. He 
sings with much taste and finish, and his expression is earnest and truth- 
ful. He is also a spirited and energetic actor. 

On Thursday evening Mr. Max Maretzek’s benefit came off. The house 
was crowded in every jart. The parquette and boxes were brilliant 
with the beauty and fashion of the city, while the amphitheatre was 
crammed to suffocation by those who prefer having much amusement 
for little cost. It was, we presume, the largest audience ever congregat- 
ed within the walls of the Opera House. Mr. Maretzek fully deserved 
such a substantial compliment, for through every change and every cir- 
cumstance he has remained faithfal to his post, and is worthy of bis trust. 
The Opera of Ernant was chosen, Signorina T'rufi, Signor Benedetti, 
Signor Taffanelli, and Signor Novelli taking the principal characters. It 
would be but a recapitulation of what we have before said, to enter upon 
acriticism of the performance; suffice it, therefore, to say that it was 
sung and acted throughout with great spirit and effect. The Finale to 
the third act was finely sung, and was unanimously encored. 

The artists were called before the curtain to receive additional testi- 
monials of public admiration, and at their exit the cries for Mr. Maretzek 
brought that gentleman also before the curtain, who addressed the au- 
dience as follows :— 


“‘ Ladies and Gentlemen—I took this Theatre at the close of Mr. Fry’s 
season, not with the idea of making money, but for the purpose of em- 
ploying the artists who would otherwise have been without engagement; 
and I should have been perfectly satisfied if the receipts would enable 
me to meet my expenses, but they have fallen far short of the necessary 
sum, so that this benefit is the benefit of the Company and not mine. I 
thank you warmly for your kindness in coming forward this evening. 
This is the last night of the season, but should | again wield the baton 
here, I hope I shali continue to receive, what I shail always strive for— 
your approbation.”’ 


Thas, for the present, ends the Opera campaign. Trufli, Ja superba, 
with Benedetti, and Mr. Herz, are said to be on the eve of starting for 
Mexico &c. 

Sacrep Concert at THE TABERNACLE.—We aitended the Tabernacle 
on Wednesday evening to witness the performance of a new Musical com- 
position called Eleutheria, or the Course of Freedom down to the present 
time. There was avery large audience gathered together upon the occa- 
sion, as some interest was excited, by the production of a lengthy work 
by an American composer. The subject is one likely to be popular with 
the masses. It traces the course of Liberty from the times of Moses 
through the Christian Era, the reformation, down to Washington and 
the present crisisin Europe. The character is of a sacred feeling, altheugh 
much of human action is mixed up with it. The poem or ode is written 
by Horatio Stone Esq., Mr. G. H. Curtis composed the music, and the 
orchestral arrangements were written by Mr. George Frederick Bris- 
tow. 

We are unable to speak in favour of this work; it lacks the first great 
merit of a composer—originality. It gives indications of greater memory 
than imagination. Almost every piece is a reminiscence of a familiar sub- 
ject from Haydn, Handel, Mendelsohn, Herold, Horn, &c. &c. Myr. Cur- 
tis has dovetailed these selections together very ingeniously, and has, in 
many instances, produced pieces which cannot fail to please the public 
ear, but that is all the merit that he can fairly claim. 

The instrumentation is the work of Mr. Bristow. and reflects great 
credit upon his skill. It is, generally, well scored : in many pa rts bril- 
liantly, and throughout effectively. There is tobe sure now and then 
a redundancy of accompaniments, but this is a fault natural to all young 
writers. 

The performers acquitted themselves excellently well. Mrs. L. A. Jones 
has a light soprano voice of beautiful quality, pure, clear, sweet, and bril- 
liant. She sang her music chastely, and with much taste and expression. 
Her improvement since we last heard her has been very great, and we 
are happy to note her progress. Her first song was loudly encored. 

Miss De Luce wss in fine voice, and rendered her recitatives and arias 
emphatically and effectively. The lower tones of her voice are very 
beautiful—clear, rich, deep, and thrilling ; and in several passages she 
called forth the applause of the audience. Her aria, “‘ How has the gold 
become dim,” she sang admirably, and received an unanimous encore. 

Mr. R. G. Paige pleased us greatly, we never heard his voice so relia- 
ble and pure. His music was high and diflicult, but he exerted himself 
successfully, and gained great applause. 

Mr. Lincoin is but a beginner in his art. He has a good voice, in quali- 
ty and compass, but he needs more thorough study. He cannot hold a 
steady note, which is a fatal error in sacred music, and he is apt to slur 
passages tov constantly, which imparts a tame and drawling style to h's 
singing. He has, however, natural gifts from which a good singer may be 
made. The choruses were sung, with few exceptions, in excellent style. 

The female voices were delightful ; the contraltos the finest we have 
heard in New York. The general correctness of the various parts was 
very gratifying. The orchestral accompaniments were played correctly, 








but little attention was paid to effect. It was a perfectly even perform- 





April 14 
ance, because it was all forte. Mr. Bristow conducted the concert, and 


the amount of excellence pesented by the performance was highly 
creditable to him, when his inexperience is considered. 





Mavame Ayya Bisnor.—The song-birds are partial to the sunny 
South. Notwithstanding the advanced period of the season, this accom- 
plished vocalist, after a most brilliant and profitable tour through Virgi- 
nia, South Carolina, and Georgia, is about to embark at Charleston for 
Havana, with the intention of returaing to this city in the moath of July. 
Mr. Bochsa and his tuneful harp accompany the fair songstress to the Hx- 
vana. A prima donna iu Summer will bea novelty to the Habaneros. 


Drama. 


Broapway Taratre.—The stage, no longer able to control the spirit 
of the age, seems very wisely to adapt itself to prevailing tastes, and fol- 
lowing the current of p: pular opinion which it was once its province to 
direct, contrives to sustain its ascendency by fostering rather than creat- 
ing the reigning “ Cynthia of the hour.” The “ million” even demand 
an illuminated literature, and indulge in all the gay varieties of the 
modes to au extent that would astonish their simple-minded and plain- 
costumed ancestors; while the wealthy and the exclusives surround 
themselves with gorgeous domestic luxuries, almost regal in their mag- 
nificence. Ornament and florid decoration is the prominent taste of the 
times ; and the management of the Broadway seem determined to ride 
into public favour by the aid of this aniversal passion. 

“The Enchantress” is drawing excellent houses nightly upon the 
strength of its magnificent decorative appointments. Asan Opera, shorn 
of its auxiliary attractions, it would not have drawn a respectable au- 
dience beyond the third night. On its fifteenth representation, for the 
benefit of Mrs. Seguin, the house was crowded ; and there is every pro- 
bability that it will continue its attraction undiminished through the com_ 
ing week. The music is improved by the ease and precision acquired 
by the performers in its frequent repetition ; and the mere spectacle and 
ballet departments are also given with increased effects. We under- 
stand that the management has another splendid “illustrated drama” in 
preparation. 





Burton’s Tueatre.—lIt is not Burton's cue to indulge in the expens- 
ive outlay of highly decorated pieces. He seizes another phase of public 
taste, and caters to the love for the broadly ludicrous and spicy hits at pre- 
vailing follies, or the serving up of the notorieties of the day. His last effort 
of this class is a satirical drama called “ Socialism, or, Modern Philosophy 
put in Practice.” The piece is an adaptation of the incidents, at least, 
of an amusing brochure produced at the Theatre du Vaudeville in Paris, 
bearing the title of La Propriété c'est le Vol, (property is robbery,) an ac- 
count of which will be found ia the Albion of the 27th January last. The 
Parisian satire exhibits M. Prpudhon in person; and the gist of the piece 
is to show up the workings of this philosopher's views if actually carried 
into operation. 

The American adaptation has given a local character: to the piece ; 
the celebrated advocate of Socialism in this country is substituted for M 
Proudhon, under the name of Mr. Fourier Grisley (Brougham ). whilst 
M. Bonnichon of the French version is converted into a Mr. Meuny (Bur- 
ton), a plain matter of fact New Yorker. 

The piece opens with a convivial party assembled at Menny’s house, 
where the great socialist organ Mr. Grisley is introduced, and is made to 
advocate his principles in a dialogue with Menny and his friends. The 
Philosopher fails in making any impression on bis party ; and the scene 
closes leaving Menny and Major Quintus Curtias Jones in a state of som- 
nolency ever their Champagne. A series of scenes now follow @ la Victo- 
rine—where, under the similitude of a dream, the doctrines of the social- 
ists are practically put into action. 

The period is supposed to be 1853. Mr. Fourier Grisley is elevated to 
the Presidency ; and carries his fayourite schemes into execution. Perfect 
equality is the recognized law of the land. The colored race assume 
their lawful position; and an amusing specimen of the emancipated Ne- 
gro is given in the person of Cesar Johnson, a waiter, admirably made up 
and capitally played by Johuson. 

The incidents of the piece are made to hinge on the personal adven- 
tures of Mr. Menay, in this new order of things. He is beset by artizans 
tradesmen, and professional persons, all exacting their right to labour 
The favourite socialist system of barter is also practically illustrated, and 
the whole beauty of the Communist doctrines are intended to be shown 
up by actual experiments on a large scale. The social organization is 
made “ confusion worse confounded”—Menny and his friends—who stiil 
cling to their old prejudices, are driven to their wit’s end—when the 
scene changes, and all is discovered to be adream. Mr. Fourier Grisley 
comes in to hear the strange freaks his friends have passed through in 
their somnolent state—ana the curtain falls with some compliments to the 
Philosopher on the integrity of his intentions. 

The piece for point, and spirit, will bear no comparison with theParis 
ian version. This may perhaps be owing to the different cast of charac: 
ter, which marks‘the two nations. Communism and Socialism are the 
antipodes of the prevailing sentiments here. Even ridicule falls compar- 
atively powerless when applied to doctrines in which few feel any inter- 
est. When made also the subject, as in this instance, of a Dramatic satire, 
all the pungency necessary to give zest to the dialogue is necessarily 
withheld, from the fear of giving offence to the party of whom the lead- 
ing character is considered to be the popular organ. 

We are too thin-skinned yet to admit of strong personal satire on the 
stage. Indeed, public men are so intimately identified with the people 
in all the relations of life, that it would be reprehensible to produce them 
on the boards of a public Theatre ina directly ludicrous position, even 
when they are identified with principles dangerous to the stability of the 
existing order of society. 

Brougham has immortalized nimself by his representation of Mr. Four- 
ier Grisley. He is really the very epitome of the “ great original,” only 
slightly caricatured. Burton is sufficiently comic in the much avnoyed 
representative ofthe ‘‘ Moneyed Man,” and the other characters aid the 
piece by careful playing. Rae is the very double of a “ butcher boy”— 
on the Mose principle. The piece has been played to crowded Houses 
nightly, though we doubt whether the audiences find it as pungent as they 
hoped and expected. The adapter, in hampering himself with a — 
ality that he was afraid to carry out into broad farce, has weakened his 
attack on the system. One of the strong points for the stage would other 
wise have been the Communist doctrins of the relation between the sexes : 
it is now but slightly touched. 

Brougham’s “ Romance and Reality” is promised in afew days, with 
new scenery and appointments: we shall be glad to welcome it once 
more, and especially so our favourite “ Madam Social Reformer,” wko we 
hope is entrusted to good hands. 

Otympic THEeatre.—We believe next week will close the season at 
this House. Mitchell is doing all in his power to vary and give the charm 
of novelty to his entertainments, but competition fetters and clogs his 
efforts. He intends opening next season with a powerfully augmented 
company, and a return of the old Olympic spirit. a ; 

“ The Savage and the Maiden” has been revived with much ofits or 
nal force—Mitchell is still the unapproachable Crummles, and joyous, 
frolicsome Miss Gannon makes a capital Phenomenen. 





— 























os £2 at at 


1849, 
? NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN. 


All who watch the progress of the Arts in this country look with inter- 
est to this annual exhibition; and we wish we could perceive any signs 
therein of the American painters taking a stand in the world of Art, cor- 
responding to that occupied by their sculptors. Why it is otherwise we 
do not understand; but the fact is undeniable. 

This, the twenty-fourth annual display of the works of Academicians 
and others, under the auspices of the Academy, appears to be one of 
more than average attraction. If there be no two pictures so good as 
Gray's “ Lady in a classical costume” and Healy’s “ Lady in a yellow 
bonnet” of last year, there are more that are worthy of commenda- 
tion, and many worth notice. The very large number of portraits is 
wearisome to the lover of painting; but at the same time it probably in- 
terests the friends aud acquaintances of those who “ glisten in a row,” 
and may even ensure the patronage of milliners and tailors, who must be 
not a little flattered at findiag so many samples of their handiwork elab- 
orately reproduced. Not here in New York alone,- but in Paris and in 
London, what square yards of broeaded gowns and embroidered waist 
coats figure on the walls of modern picture galleries! Here and there 
one finds a head or a bust such as nature made it; but generally the 
heads are redolent of bandoline, and the busts evidently moulded as 
counters for the display of lace. “I must be in my sweet white satin,’ 
says Mrs. A. “ My morning gown will be just the thing,” quoth Mr. B. 
We cannot but pity the artists! And so let us go a little into detail. 


First Satoon. 


No. 1, Portrait of Bishop Hughes. F.T.L. Bovte.—This picture claims 
priority of notice from its large size, as well as from its numerical posi- 
tion. The head and hands, the chief points in portrait painting, are well 
handled; and if the whole were reduced from a full-length to a half- 
length it would be much increased in value. The figure, below the 
middle, is as flat as a pancake; nor do the accessories improve it, except 
in adding to its size. 

6. Early Recollections. Grorce Innes.—There are some extremely 
good poiuts in this quiet, unpretending landscape. Looking at it in de- 
tail we find much to approve, although as a whole it does not strike the 
casual observer. 

10. Study of a Head. D. Huntincros.—An oxcellent study it is, too— 
bold, expressive, and well coloured—not exactly adapted to catch the 
eye of the million, but not to be overlooked. 

18. Virginia Deer. J. W. Aupuson.—The fac-simile of a naturalist, not 
the picture of an artist. This remark will apply to all this gentleman’s 
works that come under our notice Anatomically correct, and laboured 

with all the mechanical skill of patient industry, they lack vigour, truth, 
life. There are difficulties, of course, in the way of partnershi aint- 
ing; but we have often thought that Mr. Audubon’s was one of t e in- 
stances in which it might be very advantageously adopted. Some slight 
knowledge of pares painting and general composition, infused iato 
his pictures of animal life, would be a very material improvement. 

19. Christ restoring the Daughter of Jairus. W. BE. Wixner.—The 
largest work in the collection, and one of considerable pretence, it is. by 
no means deficient in merit. The general arrangement is good, and the 
drawing correct in the main, for we presume the attenuated arms of the 
sick maiden are purposely intended to show the ravages of disease. The 
colouring, however, will prevent the picture becoming a favourite with 
the public. it is striking, but not pleasing; treated in a cold, dry, Ger- 
mauitied style, with nothing harmonious or effective in its prevalence of 
dall, brick-dust red, and chilling, chalky white. The world possesses 
such masterpieces on Scriptural subjects that we wonder modern artists 
have the boldness to undertake them. 

_ 25. Portrait of the Count of D—. A. Boisszav.—A clever, spirited, life- 
like head, with much expression in the countenance. The Count must 
be of extremely slender form, or the drawing of the figure is incorrect. 

_38. A Mountain Tempest. F. E. Cavren.—In noticing the Art-Union 
Gallery, we took occasion to commend a work by this artist, and are hap- 
Py again to bear witness to his careful study of Nature and tohis boldness 
and originality in treating it. There is much to strike the eye in this 
picture, and much that will be approved by the few spectators familiar 
with the subject. The artist’s clouds, however, as in the work above- 
mentioned, want buoyancy. Heavy, opaque, motionless masses of clouds 
may be seen previously to the outburst of the mountain-storm, but the 
boil and rush of vapour is characteristic of it whilst raging ; and their ef- 
fect the artist scarcely gives. . 

44. Columbus. D. Huytinaron.—One of the best pictures in the Gal- 
lery—a half-length. Columbus holds in one hand a chart, and has the 
other laid open ona globe. There is a noble earnestness and intensity 
about the head altogether characteristic of the man; whilst the colouring 
and general ettect are harmonious, chaste, and meritorious. 

48. Bohemian Fair. Zeirer.—A charming picture is this of rural life. 
It might at first glance pass for an Irish fair, so much is there that is na- 
tural, and so little that is national about it. There is somethin peculiar 
in the style, though beyond us to explain. That a bold and decided hand 
wielded the brush is obvious at a glance ; and yet the general effect is 
one of extreme delicacy, more resembling water colour than oil painting. 
Ten minutes passed before this Bohemian sketch will not be thrown 
away. ; 

64. Scene from Measure for Measure. J. B. Fuacc.—The beauty of the 
sainted Isabel in this clever picture is almost too regular to be natural. 
She wants but wings to be truly angelic. Possibly the peculiarity of the 
part she plays warrants her being endowed with a little less of earth, and 
more of heaven, than are usually found amongst womankind. 

68. The Angel appearing to the Marys’ at the Sepulchre of our Lord. D. 
Huntrxaton.—This angel is of the earth, earthy, looking as if copied from 
the theatrical attitude of a model artist, and not over well drawn even 
trom that. The Mary in the foreground is deficient in grace and charac- 
ter; and taken altogether we regret that a painter of Mr. Huntington’s 

great abilities should have exhibited so large a picture, of so little merit. 
Artists need not consider Scriptural subjects out of their reach ; but should 
bear in mind that more than ordinary talent is requisite to render them 
impressive. Annibal Caracci has also painted the Three Marys! The 
picture is at Castle Howard. 

71. Study from Nature. A. B. Duranp.—The President of the Academy 
contributes no less than eleven pictures to this year’s exhibition. This 
1s one of his very best, though small and every way unpretending. The 
atmosphere is beautifully true. 

78. Dog Jack. J.Kytx.—A very knowing fellow Jack looks; and 
whether his portrait be like the original or not, it is much more pictorial 
than those of some of his biped veighbours. 

82. The Plague of Darkness. F. E. Cuurcu.—We should have pas- 
sed this by, if we had not been struck elsewhere with the artist’s tal- 
ents, [tis every way unworthy of them; and he can do more in his own 
original style, than in such a hodge-podge as this reminiscence of Danby 
and Martin. 

_ 85. Major Stevens, F.T.L. Borte.—A small portrait of a small sub- 
ject; but a superior picture to the immense one that heads our notice. 


Sreconp Satoon. ‘ 


Pond View in Borrowdaile. J. B. Pyxe.—A picture that will not please 
Ib adegay i but _ of  sagek — and power. It looks as though it 
vere a century old. e should like to i j 

btayd soteer e to see a happier subject treated by 
113, The Mountain Stream. J. ¥. Kensett.—Some portions of this 
Picture deserve notice and much praise. There is, however, a wantof 
~~ hooters, which diminishes from its merit. 

20. ‘ : : ‘ ’ 
tans Ae i © same artist has also some very good points. We like 
oun Landscape. W. M. Oppie.—Set ina circular frame, and of ex- 
a ding beauty, notwithstanding the harsh outlines of mountains, behind 
; ch a rising or setting sun throws objects into bold relief. The fleecy 
“loudlets are delicious. 


121. Landscape. W.M. Oppir.—Not so i 
nes : -M.C ~—) good a picture as the prece- 
iene” ‘The bank of clouds is heavy. The colouring, however, is Seen 
hea his gentleman’s landscapes evidentiy attract much attention, and 
u \y deserve it. 

*4. Portrait of Martin Van Bu 1G" i 
ii ; ren. D. Huntinerox.—A good pic- 
ae re Sw a good likeness, but somewhat feeble in the mode of 
a Rocky scene onthe Juniata. J.Tatnot.—A very clever bit of land- 

a painting; a charming scene, well chosen and well executed. 
eas Esmeralda. T.P. Rossirer.—We should have thought this a por- 
_ of a lady. It has but little that is characteristic of Esmeralda, but, 

ertheless, is an excellent head ; one side exposed to the reflection of 


a : ° 
wae light, the other in deep shade—fantastic perhaps, but cleyerly 





Che Albion. 


133. Domestic Happiness. Mus. L. M. Srexcer.—Will assaredly at- 
tract attention, from its subject, its intrinsic excellence, and from its be- 
ing the prodaction of alady. It is of large size, and represents two chil- 
dren sleeping picturesquely huddled up together, and a complacent father 
and mother fcaging over them with well-pleased looks. We may quick- 
ly dismiss the papa and mamma, who are a somewhat lack-a-daisical 
couple, the latter with a rather dollish arm. The group of children, 
however, redeems all want of interest in the parents, and is as charming 
a bit of natural painting as we have seen for many aday. The perfect 
repose is unmistakeable ; and the freedom of attitude assumed in infancy 
by children unencumbered with much clothing is very life-like. We 
shall welcome future works from this fair artist with great pleasure. 

137. Landscape with Cattle A.B. Duraxv.—There are some charm- 
ing vistas here, and scraps of foliage well worth remark. — 

138. Portrait of a Lady. 8. A. Mouxt.—This picture will not allow 
any une to pass it without notice. There is a fair challenge in the clear, 
well opened eye that it is impossible to resist. In addition to which the 
silk dress is so skilfully painted that one fancies one hears it rustling. 
[t must be a good likeness, though the carnation of the lips be probably 
exaggerated. ; 

142. Portrait of Ex-Mayor Brady. A. H. Wenzter.—A magnified 
miniature, though not deficient in merit, and having the air of a good 
likeness. 

145. A Vision. C. Deas.—The concentrated essence of a thousand 
night-mares. 

141 Portraitof a Gentlemanand 155 Portrait of a Lady m Itatan cost ume 
H. P. Gray.—A pair apparently, aud in the artist’s best style. We es- 
pecially invite notice to the latter. It might be studied with great ad- 
vantage by all portrait painters. : 

156 Portrait of an Artist.C. L. Ectsiot.—The best portrait, and probably 
the best picture in the collection. One that would command attention 
in any gallery. 

158 Armenian, in old styleof Turkish costume.—A very handsome fellow ; 
the head well painted. Were the tone of the ornamental costume soiten- 
ed down, it would be an attractive picture. 

159 Portrait cf a Lady. C.C. Incuam.—Delicate, and lady-like ; but 
with too much pink and white to suit our taste. ‘“ The white wasso 
white, and the red was so ruddy.” There is an excess of softness and 
smoothness in this artist’s female portraits that may be popular but is 
scarcely artistical. ; 

160 Mountain Stream. A. B. Duxanv.—This is a delightful specimen 
of the President’s ability. The gradations of distance in the receding 
chains of hills are beautifully and truthfully preserved. There is also 
less of that peculiar yellowish green that has come almost to mark his 
landscapes. We know that water assumes almost every or any colour 
according to the state of the atmosphere and the position of the specta- 
tors, but the decided brown in this, aud one or two other instances, 
strikes us as unnatural. This is however, but a slight drawback. 

161. Scenery of Creole Life. A. Boisseau.—A picture ae brilliant 
in colouring, reminding usin its exaggerated tone of the effect of coloured 
crayons. A handsome Creole, an infant, and a negress are painted in dolce 
Jar niente attitudes. We cannot praise the drawing, and where the lady's 
lower limbs are bestowed it would be difficult tocomprehend. The form, 
size, style, and gay colouring will attract notice, and perhaps find admir- 
ers. The picture is circular, and very handsomely framed ; but from the 
peculiarity in the arrangement of the figures it somewhat reminded us of 
a target, with the dudi’s eye distinctly marked. Attentive observers will 
see what we mean. 

165. The Heart of Mid Lothian. Dexpy.—A sketch of much merit, vig- 
orous, and well toned. 

171. Death of Pocahontas. J.B. Stearns.—Nicely and very carefully 
painted, with much good drawing; if not striking as a composition, it tells 
its tale well, and improves upon acquaintance. 

173. Portrait of aLady. D. Huntinaton.—Spirited and life-like, with- 
outthat easily recognised air of flattery that generally characterises female 
likenesses. 

180. Kindred Spirits. A. B. Duran».—An upright landscape, with a 
bold projecting rock in the foreground, whereon are sketched W. C. Bry- 
ant and the late T. Cole, the artist—A graceful and appropriate compli- 
ment to the poet and the painter, and a happy testimony tothe kindly 
feeling subsisting between them. . 

185. The Mischievous Boys. Fiscuer.—An exceedingly clever cabinet 
picture. A lady nodding over her book, whilst two young roguish looking 
children have clambered on toa table, and are amusing themselves 
with her watch. The principal figure is admirable, the whole well 
toned. 

192. Study from Nature. A. B. Duranp.—A capital sketch, though 
with the same brown tinge upon the water elsewhere commented on. — 

199. Lake Scene. T. Doucuty.—A cabinet picture, and a gem in its 
way, full of truth and nature, with a m’sty atmosphere eminently favour- 
able for picturesque effect. 

201. A Madonna and Child. Givserrze Gerosa.—Very clever, admira- 
bly drawn and coloured—a little too much vulgarity in the infant's face, 
but nevertheless well worthy of commendation. 

207. Escape of the Puritans. E. Leuvtze.—A foreshortened boat top- 
ping a wave; within it a group of the fugitives ; in the back ground, the 
shore, with scldiers attacking the persecuted. There is some merit, but 
we cannot say this picture is impressive ; nor do we think it will increase 
the artist’s reputation. 

213. Portraitof a Lady. 8. 8. Oscoop.—A very pleasant and praise- 
worthy likeness, and by far the best picture that we have ever seen from 
the studio of this artist. Had Mr. Osgood painted many such as this, he 
would scarcely be wending his way to California. There is very little of 
his habitual feebleness here, and much grace in the arrangement and 
colouring of the drapery. 

214, Autumnin New Jersey. Recis Gicnoux.—A bold, clever attempt 
to portray the vivid colouring of nature. 


Tuirp Satoon. 


224. All Hallow Eve. Kipvp.—lIt is difficult to avoid the tribute of a 
laugh to this droll representation of the fun of bobbing for apples. 

236. Jessica. JxeNKINS.—A very good water colour sketch. 

240. A Horse. T. Foor.—Also in water colours, and very well painted. 

241. Landscape. T. Coicnet.—A specimen of coloured crayon draw- 
ing, well worthy the notice of amateur artists. 

278. Pastoral Landscape. A. B. Dunanp.—Another work by the Pre- 
sident, fuil of grace and beauty. 

287. Portrait of a Gentleman. F. ALExanpER.—This head has a Napo- 
leonic air, and is a good specimen of the artist's skill in pastel drawing. 

296. Portrait of a Gentleman. V.Cotyer.—This and others in crayon 
by the same artist are well worth attention. 

309. Panama. J.C. Warp. This subject is just now of interest. 
The view of the city and the Pacific in a thunderstorm is well painted. 
The foreground scarcely of equal merit. 

310. Portrait of a Child. 8. E.Cuenzy. Very good specimen of this 
artist’s manner. It is in crayon also. 

315. Miniature portrait of Mrs. Coleman. G.H. Hire. A pleasing and 
well executed likeness. 

325. Miniature of a Gentleman. T.S. Orricer. The head here is good, 
and is painted with much spirit; reduced toa half length it would be 
improved, the attitude very much damaging the effect. 

n addition to this long list we commend to public notice the following 
portraits, which have all something to recommend them, viz :—Nos. 5, 
15,28, 51, 67, 76, 77, 79, 136, 139, 143, 144, 166. 

In the above remarks it is by no means improbable that we have 
overlooked sterling merit, given undue importance to trifles, and been 
unnecessarily severe. We do not pretend to any connoisseurship, and 
look upon pictures with the simple eye of one accustomed to derive 
pleasure from them, without taking into account the repute and position 
of the artists. Correct or not, our opiaions are our own, and honestly 
formed. Visitors to the gallery should moreover bear in mind, that the 
time of day and the state of the atmosphere very materially affect the 
appearance of pictures. Some look their best by the early morning 
light, some at noon, and some by gas-light. 





THE RIVAL ITALIAN OPERA COMPANIES. 


The two splendid establishments in London opened simultaneously on 
the night of the 15th ult. The following extracts are from London pa- 
pers of the next day. 

Her Masesty’s Taratre.—The season commenced last night with 
Rossini’s Cenerentola, selected because the heroine is one of Mademoiselle 
Alboni’s principal characters. 

Mademoiselle Alboni, who sang for the first time at this theatre, and 
who, it is said, has mastered all sorts of continental difficulties to reach 





this country, was of course the grand object of attraction. Agpeuing, 
in some sort, as the successor of Mademoiselle Lind, and being destined, 











177 


for a while at least, to be the chief vocal sup of the establishment, 
she naturally awakened much curiosity as to her success in her new po- 
sition. The result has answered the most sanguine expectations, for noth- 
ing could be more complete than the mastery which she gradually gained 
over the whole mass of her audience, till she raised them to a state of en- 
thusiasm. [n the air * Una Volta,” which displays the rich lower tones 
of her voice in all their perfection, she evinced somewhat of nervousness, 
and she scarcely acquired thorough confidence till she came to the daett 
with Gardoni (Ramiro) “ Un soave non so che.” Her melodious voice, 
her perfect intonation, and the charm of her expression, then seemed to 
produce a sudden effect on her hearers, and a repetition of the first verse 
was unanimously encored. ‘“ Sprezzo quei don,” in the finale to the first 
act, was a roan | triumph ; here the requisite quality of her high notes 
showed the extent of her compass. She is equally at ease through the 
whole range of her voice, and there is not a weak or defective note in 
the upper or lower register. On account of this peculiar excellence she 
has been able to alternate soprano with contralto characters. The con- 
clading morceaux of the opera, “ Nacqui al l’affanno,” and “Non pid 
mesta,’ were done to perfection. She executed all the sparkling orna- 
ments of the aria with the most complete facility and finish, singing with 
a kind of unconscious sweetness that distinguishes her from every other 
vocalist. When the curtain fell she was loudly called ; but her mere ap- 
pearance did not satisfy the audience, and the curtain had to be raised 
for arepetition of the finale, which took pee amid the loudest enthusi- 
asm. In the National Anthem, which followed the opera, the solo verses 
were sung by her and Gardoai. When this was ended, her brilliant 
success was the theme of conversation among all the haditués of the 
house. 

Gardoni, who played Ramiro, has lost none of his admirable sweetness, 
and has evidently gained in strength since last season. Bellet*i, the Dan- 
dini of the evening. is an excellent singer, though not overflowing with 
comic humour. F. Lablache is well known as the stock buffo-singer 
during the absence of his father, and moreover as a clever vocalist and 
actor. By all these artists the concerted pieces were well executed, but 
the two young ladies who represented the elder sisters somewhat marred 
the general effect. Although these characters are not conspicuous, they 
are of musical importance in a number of pieces. 

The band, which Mr. Balfe collected together on the very sudden 
emergency produced by the operatic circumstances of 1847, has profited 
by the experience of two years, and has gained much in strength and 
efficiency. Among its ranks are to be found some of the most eminent 
masters of their respective instruments that Europe can produce. Of 
these several were known to London when they first enlisted under Mr. 
Balfe, while others, whose talent is now universally acknowledged, were 
quite new to this country. The stringed force is now remarkably 
strong, and indeed it could scarcely be otherwise when such players 
as Tolbecque (leader), Nadaud (leader of ballet), Cooper, one of the fore- 
most English players, and a soloist at the Philharmonic Concerts, Diech- 
mann, a Belgian player of deserved celebrity. Thillon and Day are to 
be found among the first violins; Piatti, whose talent places him at the 
head of the profession, Pilet, Cellino, and Ehrmann, all good players, are 
among the violoncellos; and Anglois, Percival, Bull, &c., are at the head 
of the con‘rabassi. The second violins and tenors still require strengthen- 
ing, for although leaders more able and efficient than Oury and Hughes 
could not easily be found, there is not that power or brilliancy in the 
entire body which may be noted in the first violins and the basses. The 
wind instruments are for the most part excellent. The flutes (Remusat 
and King) and the oboes (of whom Lavigne is one) are admirable. The 
first clarionet is rather weak, but the second (Maycock) is among the 
best to be found. The bassoons are not what they might be. Among 
the horas Steglich and Catchpole are exceilent, and Zeiss is a brilliant 
and etfective first trumpet. The trombones are somewhat too noisy, but 
the first is a capital player. In short, two seasons working together 
under the zealous ond nike direction of Mr. Balfe has brought about a 
most effective ensemble, and the tone and precision of the orchestra has 
made an infinite advance since 1847. The execution of the overture last 
night, and the delicacy of the vocal accompaniments, were striking 
proofs of the improvement in this respect. Much of the music in Cene- 
rentola would be completely annihilated by over loudness in the band, as, 
for instance, the sestetto in the second act. Mr. Balfe seems to have 
brought all his subjects to a thorough state of discipline; and they effi- 
ciently support without overpowering the vocalists. __ : 

The ballet of this evening was the terpsichorean version of the English 
Devil to Pay, already familiar to everybody as the Diable 4 Quatre. The 
character of Mazourka, the happy, light-hearted wife of the basket-maker, 
is one which Carlotta can endow with all that charming naiveté which is 
at ker dizposal, and she illustrates it with her lightest and most charac- 
teristic pas. Mdlle. Rosati consents to take a aye gp ited subordinate 
place in the ballet, but raises it to importance by the admirable grace of 
her dancing. The vigorous young danseuse, Marie Taglioni, is also one 
ot the ladies, and comes with the same style of chevelure as that which 
made such an impression in 1847. Such an assemblage as Grisi, Rosati, 
and M. Taglioni in one ballet at the beginning of the season is extraor- 
dinary. 

The house was crowded with a brilliant and fashionable audience, 
amongst whom the Prince and Princess of Parma, the Duke of Willing- 
ton, the Russian Minister, &c. 


Royav {racian Orpera.—The third season of this establishment began 
last night, with an Italian version of Auber’s grand opera, La Muette de 
Portici, under the familliar title of Masaniello. The representation com- 
bined one of the grandest musical performances to which we ever listen- 
ed, with a scenic spectacle which for picturesque magnificence has, per- 
haps, never been surpassed. The overture, executed with irrestible en- 
ergy by the band, and uproariously encored, was a good augury of the en- 
tertainment that was to follow ; the applause began sometime before the 
close, and became quite deafening at the conclusion ; never was the 
quality of Mr. Costa’s admirable phalanx of instramentalists more bril- 
liantly tested, or more enthusiastically acknowledged by the public. The 
chorus throughout the opera, and they have an arduous and important 
part to play, were thoroughly up to the mark, and by their number, 
strength, and efficiency were invaluable adjuncts to the ensemble. No 
opera depends so much upon the effect of masses as Masaniello, and it is 
but just to our own artists to say that we have never heard the choral de- 
partment of this opera so excellently sustained, even at the Academie 
Royale de Musique, in Paris. The beautiful prayer in the market scene 
(unaccompanied) was rendered with incomparable precision, the pianissi- 
mo at the end, and the singular correctness with which the intonation and 
pitch were sustained to the very last bar, without any assistance from the 
orchestra, being equally worthy of praise; it was encored with acclama- 
tions. The general effect was greatly heightened by the admirable man- 
ner in which the groupings watt the action of the supernumeraries were 
managed. At the end of each of the five acts of Masaniello there is a grand 
tableau ; all these were contrived with consummate skill, but perbaps the 
most striking and imposing were the revolution in the market scene, and 
the eruption uf Mount Vesuvius ia the last act, which, as scenic pictures, 
have rarely been equalled. The dances, of which there are three, the 
Guaracha, the Bolero, and the Tarantella, were also well performed ; in 
the tirst Madame Waulhier danced the pas seul, and in the last two Ma- 
demoiselle Louise Taglioni, and M. Taglioni, the tarantella was arranged 
with great tact, and the gradual progress of celerity, until the pres/essimo 
of the climax, was quite irresistible, and obtained an unanimous call for 
its repetition. The costumes, varied and characteristic, lent a motley aod 
indescribable effect to the market scene, during which the stage was 
covered by such a number of supernumeraries as we have never before 
seen on the boards of a theatre; when all these knelt down to sing the 
prayer, previous to the insurrection. the coup d’ail may easily be ima- 


ned. 

The cast of Masaniello enjoyed the advantage of comprising three ar- 
tists who have long been accustomed to perform in the opera at the 
Academie Royale—Madame Dorus Gras (Elvira), Madame Pauline Le- 
roux (Fenella), and M. Massol (Pietro). Madame Dorus Gras sang the 
music of Elvira with the facility and correctness of an accomplished vo- 
calist, and the tiuency that results from familiar acquaintance ; her open- 
ing cavatina was brilliantly executed, the rondo especially, and the 
couplets, ** Arbitra d’una vita,” where she implores the protection of Fe- 
nella, were sung with great tenderness and expression; bat why Madame 
Dorus introduced a very dull aria by Burgmuller in the third act, which 
is utterly at variance with Auber’s style, we cannot imagine ; the public 
appeared equally at a loss, since it was very coldly received. Madame 
Pauline Leroux, who many years ago was known and admired as a dan- 
cer at Her Majesty’s Theatre, is an admirable pantomimist, and realized 
all the poetry with which the author has invested the character of Fenella 
with exquisite reality; her performance excited continued admiration 
and applause. M. Massol has long been acknowledged the best Pietro 
on the French stage, and last night showed himself well worthy his repu- 
tation. His “make-up” was perfect, and his acting excellent through- 
out. His voice, a barytone of fine tone and a peculiarly mellow quality, 
was shown off to great advantage in the splendid duet with Masaniello 
in the second act, which was applauded with vehemence, and in the 
characteristic barcarole, ‘‘ Ve’ come il vento iratc,”’ in the fifth act, which, 













































































































although it came so late in the opera, was received with great favour. 
The part.of Masaniello taxes the powers of the actor as much as of the 

inger ; itis one of incessant movement, and full of situations essential- 
ly dramatic. Whether as the simple fisherman, with a heart above op- 
pression, chan’ the joyous barcarole, or as the triumphant revolution- 
ary, invested with the ermine and the sceptre, receiving with dignity the 
homage of the populace, or as the poi oned Masaniello, his mind wander- 
ing, his last hour approaching, both in look and in action Mario was the 
very beau ideal of the part; there were so many fine points in his per- 
formance that we must be content to signalize tor special notice the 
scene where he first incites the fishermen to revolt, that in which at his 
own peril he nobly defends Alphonso and Elvira, the betrayer and the 
rival of his unhappy sister, from the blind fury of the mob, and the mad 
scene in the last act, a masterpiece of pathetic acting. The most beau- 
tiful examples in his singing were the air in the fourth act, “ Del miser 
sol, amico fido,”” where he invokes sleep as the balm for Fenella’s sorrows, 
and the short phrase, ‘‘ Addio capanna mia,” where,a newly-elected 
King, he laments the undisturbed happiness of a fisherman’s life, when no 
ideas of revolution or uncongeuial grandeur had troubled his peace of 
mind; these are among the melodic gems of the opera, and were sung 
by Mario with a gracetul tenderness and a sweeiuess of voice that belong 
only to bimself, the influenza, under which he was tvo evidently labour- 
ing, and which robbed many of the declamatory vucal pieces of much of 
their effect, being unable to deprive them of auy portion of their charm. 
The ungrateful character of Alphonso wassustaiued by Sigaoc Luigi Mei, 
and the smali parts of Borella and Emma, which are of considerable 
consequence in the morgeaux d'ensemble, by Signor G. Rommi and the 
veteran Madame Bellini. ; 

The opera was received from beginning to end with eutire favour ; the 
fall of the curtain at the end ot each act was followed by a loud salvo uf 
applause, and at the conclusion the principal artists were recalled, amidst 
the most hearty and unanimous cheering. Mr. Custa, whose exertions in 
getting up the opera must have been heavy and unremitting, and.to whom 
80 much of its success is maiuly due, was applauded by the whole au- 
dience on entering to take bis seat in the orehestra. Lt should have been 
mentioned that the scenery by Mr. Grieve is exceedingly beautital, and 
that almost every ¢ab/eau received a distinct round of applause. After the 
opera the National Anthem was executed, Madame Dorus Gras singing 
the solo verses. The house was crammed to suffocation. 

Her Majesty’s box was occupied by Lady and Miss Peel and Lady 
Hardioge. Amoug the visitors were also present the Peruvian Ambassador, 
the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of Brauswick, &c. 





INAUGURATION OF MR. MACAULAY AS LORD RECTOR OF 
GLASGOW UNIVERSITY. 

On Wednesday the 21st ult., the Right Hon. T. B. Macaulay was in- 
stalled Lord Rector of Glasgow University in the Common-hall of the col- 
lege. The Principal, Professors, and several strangers, including Lord 
Belhaven, the Lord Advocate oi Scotland, &c., were preseut. The gal- 
leries were filled by ladies. The new Lord Rector spoke as follows:— 

My first duty, gentlemen, is to return to you my thanks for the honour 
which you have conferred on me. You well kuow that it was wholly 
unsolicited; and I can assure you that it was wholly unexpected. I may 
add, that if I had been invited to become a candidate for your suffrages, I 
should respectfully have declined the invitation. My predecessor, whom 
I am 60 happy to be able to call my friend, declared from this place last 
year, in language which well became him, that he should not have volun- 
tarily come forward to displace so eminent a statesman as Lord John Rus- 
sell. I can with equal truth affirm that [ should not have voluntarily 
come forward to displace so eminent a gentleman, and so accomplished a 
scholar, as Colonel Mure. But Colonel Mare felt last year that it was not 
for him, and I now feel that it is not for me, to question the propriety of 
your decision on a point of which, by the constitution of your body, you 
are the judges. I therefore gratefully accept the office to which I have 
been cailed, fully purposing to use whatever powers belong to it with a 
single view to the welfare and credit of your society. I am not using a 
mere phrase of course, when [ say that the feelings with which I bear a 
part in the ceremony of this day are such as I fiad it difficult to utter in 
words. I do not think it strange that when that great master of elo- 
quence, Edmund Burke, stood where I now stand, he faltered aud remain- 
ed mute. Doubtless the multitude of thoughts which rushed iuto his 
mind was such as even he could noi easily arrange or express. In truth, 
there are few spectacles more striking or affecting than that which a 
ee historical place of education presents on a solemn public day. 

here is something strangely interesting in the contrast between the 
venerable antiquity of the body and the fresh and ardent youth of the 
great majority of the members. Recollections aud hopes crowd upon us 
together. The past and the future are at once brought close to us. Our 


Che Albion. 


and resounding with the clang of machinery—a region which now sends 
forth fleets laden with its admirable fabrics to of which in his days 
no geographer had ever heard—theu a wild, a poor, a half-barbarous tract, 
lying in the utmost verge of the known world. He gave his sauction to 
the plau ot establishing a University at Glasgow, and bestowed on the 
seat of learning all the privileges which belonged to the University of 
Bologua. I can conceive that a pitying smile passed over his face as he 
named Bologna and pe oe together. At Bologna he had long studied. 
No spot in the world had been more favoured by nature or by art. The 
surrounding country was a fruitful and sunny country, a country of corn- 
fields and vineyards. In the city the house of Bentivoglio bore rule—a 
house which vied with the Medici in taste and magnificence—which has 
left to posterity noble palaces and temples, and which gave a splendid 
patronage to arts and letters. Glasgow he jast knew to be poor, a smaii, 
rude, town, and, as he would have thought, not likely ever to be other- 
wise, for the soil, compared with the rich country at the foot of the Ap- 
enines, was barren, and the climate was such that an Italian shuddered 
at the thought of it. But itis not on the fertility of the soil—it is not on 
the mildness of the atmosphere that the prosper:.y of nations depends. 

(Cheers.) Slavery and superstition can make Campania a land of beg- 

gars, and can change the plain of Enna into a desert. Nor is it beyond 

the power of human intelligence and energy, developed by civil and 

spiritual freedom, to turns terile rocks and pestilential marshes into cities 
and gardens. Enlightened as your founder was, he little knew that he 
himself was a chief agent in a great revolation—physical and moral, po- 
litical and religious—in a revolution destined to make the last first and 

the first last—in a revolution destined to invert the relative positions of 
that of Glasgow and Bologna. We cannot, I think, better employ a 
few minutes than in reviewing the stages of this change in haman affairs. 

The review shall be short. Indeed, I cannot do better than pass rapidly 

from century to century. Look at the world, then, a hundred years 

after the seal of Nicholas had been affixed to the instrament which called 

your college into existence. We find Europe—we find Scotland espe- 
cially—in the agonies of that great revolution which we emphatically call 
the Reformation. The liberal patronage which Nicholas, and men like 
Nicholas, had given to learning, and of which the establishment of this 

seat of learning is not the least remarkable ivstance, had produced an 

etlect which they had never contemplated. Ignorance was the talisman 

ou which their power depended, and that talisman they had themselves 
broken. They had catled in knowledge as a handmaid to decorate super- 
stition, and their error produced its natural effect. I need not tell you 

what a part the votaries of classical learning, and especially of Greek 

learning, the Humauists, as they were thencalled, bore in the great move- 

ment againstspiritual tyranny. Ina Scotch university I need hardly men- 
tion the names of Kaox, of Buchaunan, of Melville, of Maitland, of Leth- 
ington. (Applause. ) 

They formed, in fact, the vanguard of that movement. Every one of 
the chief Reformers—I do not at this moment remember a single excep- 

tioa—was a Humanist. Every eminent Humanist in the north of Europe 
was according to the measure of his uprightness and courage, a Reformer. 
In truth, minds daily nourished with the best literature of Greece and 

Rome, necessarily grew too strong to be trammelled by the cobwebs of 
the scholastic divinity ; and the influence of such minds was now rapid- 
ly felt by the whole community, for the invention of printing had brought 
books within the reach even of yeomen and of artisans. From the Medi- 
terranean to the Frozen Sea, therefore, the publie mind was everywhere 

in a ferment, and nowhere was the ferment greater thanin Scotland. It 
was in the midst of martyrdoms and proscriptions, in the midst of a war 
between power and truth, that the first century ot the existence of your 
University closed. Pass another 100 years, and we are in the midst of 
another revolution. The war between Popery and Protestantism bed, in 
this island, been terminated by the victory of Protestantism; but from 

that war another war had sprung—the war between Prelacy and Pari- 
tanism. The hostile religious sects were allied, intermingled, confound- 
ed with hostile political parties. The monarchical element of the consti- 
tution was an object of almost exclusive devotion to the Prelatist. The 
popular element of the constitution was especially dear to the Puritan. 

At length auappeal was made tothesword. Puritanism triumphed ; but 

Paritauism was already divided against itself. Independency and Re- 

publicanism were on one side—Presbyterianism and limited Monarchy 

ou the other. It was in the very darkest part of that dark time—it was 

in the midst of battles, sieges, and executions—it was when the whole 

world was still aghast at the awful spectacle of a British King standing 

before a jadgment-seat, and laying his neck on a block—it was when the 

mangled remains of the Duke of Hamilton had just been laid in the tomb 

of his house—it was when the head of the Marquis of Montrose had just 

been fixed on the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, that your university comple- 
ted her second century. A hundred years more, and we have at length 

reached the beginning of a happier period. 








thoughts wander back to the time when the foundations of this ancient 
building were laid, and forward to the time when those whom it js our 
office to guide and to teach will be the guides and teachers of our poster- 
ity. On the present occasion we may, with peculiar propriety, give such 
thoughts their course. Forit has chanced that my magistracy has fallen in 
a great secularepoch. This is the 400:h year of the existence of your Uni 
versity. (Cheers.) At such jubilees as these—jubilees of which no individ- 
ual sees more than one—it is natural and 1t is good, thata society like this 
a society which survives all the transitory parts of which it is composed 
—a society which has a corporate existence and a perpetual succession, 
should review its annals, shvald retrace the stages of its growth trom 
infancy to maturity, and should try to fiud in the experience of generations 
which have passed away, lessons which may be protitable to generations 
yet unborn. ~ 
The retrospect is full of interest aud instraction. Perhaps it may be 
doubted whether, since the Christiau era, there bas been any poiat of 
time more important to the highest interests of mankiud thaa that at 
which the existence of your University commenced It was the moment 
of a great destruction and of a great creation. Your society was iusti- 
tated just betore the empire of the Bast perished ; that strange empire, 
which, dragging on a languid life through the great age of darkuess, con- 
nected together the two great ages of light; that empire which, adding 
nothing to our stores of knowledge, and producing not one man great in 
letters, in science, or in art, yet preserved, in the midst of barbarism, 
those master-pieces of Attic genius which the highest minds still con- 
template, and long will contemplate, with admiring despair. And, at 
that very time, wuile the fanatical Moslem were plundering the churches 
and palaces of Constautinople, breaking iu pieces Grecian sculpture, and 
giving to the flames piles of Grecian eloquence, a few humble German 
artizans, who little kuew that they were calling into existence a power 
far mightier taan that of the victorious Sultan, were busied in catting and 
setting the first types. The University came into existence just in time 
to see the last trace of the Roman Empire disappear, and to see the 
earliest printed book. At this coujuacture—a coujuucture of unrivalled 
interest in the history of letters—a man never to be meutioned without 
reverence by every lover of letters held the highest place in Europe. 
Oar just attachment to that protestaut faith to which our couutry owes 80 
much must not prevent us from paying the tribute which, ou this occa- 
sion and in this place, justice and gratitude demand, to the founder of 
the University of Glasgow, the greatest of the revivers of learning, Pope 
Nicholas the Fifth. He had sprung from the common people; bat his 
abilities and his erudition had early attracted the notice »f the grea’. He 
had studied much and travelled far. He had visited Britain, which, in 
wealth and reinement, was to his aative Tuscany what the back settle- 
ments of America now are to Britain. He had lived with the merchant 
princes of Florence, those men who tirst ennobled trade by making trade 
the ally of philosophy, of eloquence, and of taste. [t was he who, uader 
the protection of the muuihcent and discerning Cosmo, acrayed the first 
— library that modern Europe possessed. From privacy your 
jounder rose to a throne; but on the throue he never forgot the studies 
which had been his delight in privacy. He was the centre of an illus- 
trious group composed partly of the last great scholars of Greece, and 
partly of the first great scholars of Italy, Tneodore Gaza aud George of 
rebizond, Bessarin aud Tilelfo, Marsilio Ficiuu and Poggio Braccivlini. 
By him was founded the Vatican library, then and loug after the most 
age aud the most extegsive collection of books in the world By 
1m were carefully preserved the most valuable intellectual treasures 
which had been snatched from the wreck of the Byzantine empire His 
agents were to be found every where—in the bazaars of the furthest Bust, 
in the monasteries of the furthest West—purchasiug or copying worm- 
eaten parchments, on which were traced words worth of immortality. 
Under his patrovage were prepared accurate Latin versivas of many pre- 
cious remains of Greek po aud philosophers. 

Bat no department of Literature owes 80 much to him as 
him were introduced to the knowledge of Western Europe two great 
and unrivalled models of historical composition, the work of Herodotus 
and the work of Taacydides. By him, too, our ancestors were first made 
acquainted with the graceful and lucid simplic ty of Xenophon aud with 
the manly guod seuse of Pulybius. It was while he was occupied with 


history. By 


cares like these that his attention was called to the intellectual wauts of 
this region—a regioa now swarming with population, rich with culture, 


Oar civil and religious liberties had indeed been bought with a fearful 
rice. Bat they had been bought; the price had been paid; the last 
battle had been fought on British ground; the last black scaffold had 
been set up on Tower Hill. The evil days were over. A bright and 
tranquil ceutury—acentury of religious toleration, of domestic peace, of 
temperate freedom, of equal justice—was beginning. The century is 
now closing. When we compare it with any equally long period in the 
history of any other great society, we shall find abundant cause for thank- 
fulness to the Giver of all good; nor is there any place in the whole king- 
dom better fi:ted to excite this feeling than the place where we are now 
assembled. For in the whole kingdom we shall find no district in 
which the progress of trade, of manutactures, of wealth, and of the arts 
of life, has been more rapid than in Clydesdale. Your university has 
partaken largely of the prosperity of this city and of the surrounding re- 
gion. The security, the tranquillity, the liberty, which have been pro- 
pitious to the industry of the merchant and of the manufacturer, have 
been also propitious to the industry of the scholar. To the last century 
belong most of the names of which you justly boast. The time would 
fail meif I attempted to do justice to the memory of all the illustrious 
men who, during that period, taught or Jearned wisdom within these an- 
cient walls—geometricians, anatomists, jurists, philologists, metaphysi- 
cians, poets—Simpson and Hunter, Miller and Young, Reid and Stewart; 
Campbell—(cheers)—whose coffin was lately borne to a grave in that 
renowned trausept which contains the dust of Chaucer, of Spencer, and 
of Dryden; Black, whose discoveries form an era in the history of chym- 
ical scieace; Adam Smith, the greatest of all the masters of political 
science; James Watt, who perhaps did more than any single man has 
done since the New Atlantis of Bacon was written, to accomplish that 
glorious prophecy. We now speak the language of humility when we 
say that the University of Glasgow need not fear a comparison with the 
uuiversity of Bologna. 
Another secular period is now about tocommence. There is no lack of 
alarmists. who will tell you that it is about tocommence under evil aus- 
pices. But from me you must expect no such gloomy prognostications, 
Lam too much used to them to bescared by them. Ever since I began 
to make observations on the state of my country, [have been seeing noth- 
ing but growth, aud [ have been hearing of nothing but decay. The more 
[contemplate our noble institutions the more convinced | am that they 
are sound at heart, that they have nothing of age but its dignity, and that 
their strength is still the strength of youth. The hurricane which has re- 
ceutly overthrown so mach that was great and that seemed durable has 
ouly proved their solidity. They still stand, august and immovable, 
while dynasties and churches are lying in heaps of ruinall around us. J 
see no reasou to doubt that, by the blessing of God on a wise and temper- 
ate policy,a policy of which the principle isto preserve what is good by 
reforming in time what is evil, our civil institutions may be preserved un- 
impaired to a late posterity, and that, under the shade of our civil institu- 
tious, our academical institutions may long continue to flourish. I trust, 
therefore, that when a hundred years more have run out, this ancient 
college will still contiaue to deserve well of our country and of mankind. 
I trast that the installation of 1949 will be attended by a still greater as- 
sembly ofstudents thau I have the happineas now to see before me. That 
assemblage, indeed, may not meet in the place where we have met. 
These veuerable halls may have disappeared. My successor may speak 
to your successors in a more stately edifice, in an edifice whick even 
amoug the maguiticent baildings of the future Glasgow, will still be ad- 
mired asa fine specimen of the architecture which flourished in the days 
of the good Queen Victoria. (Cheers.) But though the site and the walls 
may be new, the spirit of the institution will, I hope, be still the same, 
My successor will I hope, be able to boast that the fifth century of the uni- 
versity hus been even more glorious than the fourth. He will be able to 
vindicate that boast by citing a long list of eminent men, great masters of 
experimeutal science, of ancient learning, of our native eloquence, orna- 
ments of the senate, tne pulpit, and the bar. He will, I hope, mention with 
high honour some of my young friends who now hear me ; and he will, I 
also hope, beable to add that their talents and learning were not wasted 
ou selfish or ignoble objects, bat were employed to promote the physical 
aud mural good of their species, to extend the empire of man over the 
material world, todefeudthe cause of civil and religious liberty against 
tyrants and bigots, and to defend the cause of virtue and order against 
the enemies of all divine and human laws. (Cheers.) I have now given 





April 14 


utterance toa part, and a part only, of the recollections and anticipations 
of which on this solemn occasion my mind is fall. I again thank you for 
the honour you have bestowed on me, and [ assure you that while I live I 
shall never cease to take a deep interest in the welfare and fame of the 
body with which by your kindness [ have this day become connected. 








DINNER TO SIR CHARLES JAMES NAPIER. 


On Saturday evening, the 17th ult., the Court of Directors of the East 
India Company gave a grand banquet at the London Tavern, Bishopsgate 
street, in honour of Sir Charles Napier’s appointment, which was attend- 
ed by his Grace the Commander-in-Chief, and a brilliant circle of noble, 
military, civil, and diplomatic personages. The entertainment was on a 
very splendid scale. In the centre of the principal table was displayed a 
magnificent group in bright and frosted silver, representing a tournament 
scene, the knights and their steeds being snaked with a most life-like 
spirit and faithfulness. The other tables were furnished with a profusion 
of magnificent and massive candelabra, goblets, and ornaments, exquisite- 
ly worked in gold; and the sideboards exhibited a goodly array of mas- 
sive gold salvers, many of them carved in the most expensive and unique 
style. The ensemble was very brilliant, the gay uniforms and glittering 
decorations of the officers of rank forming an agreeable contrast to the 
more sober toilet of the civilians. The appearance of a number of richly 
dressed ladies in the gallery enhanced the general effect of the scene. 
The band of the Coldstream Guards was in attendance, and played an 
appropriate selection of music during the evening. 
The Duke of Wellingtoa, who was attired in the uniform of a Field- 
Marshal, Sir C. Napier, and Viscount Hardinge, were enthusiastically 
cheered on their arrival. 
Lieutenant-General Sir James Law Lushington, G.C.B., Chairman of 
the Board of Directors, presided. 
When the health of Sir Charles Napier, the guest of the evening, was 
proposed by the Chairman, the entire company rose up, and, amidst a 
perfect tumult of applause, drank his health. In obedience to the signals 
of the toast-master, cheer after cheer was given, until the room resound- 
ed with the shouts of the assembled company. The ladies then waved 
their handkerchiefs from the galleries, while the Duke of Wellington 
bowed continually to the gallant officer who was seated at his side. Sir 
Charles sat apparently unconcerned at the attention paid to him; he mere- 
ly acknowledged the honour conferred on him by the Duke, and then 
bowed to one or two other distinguished personages who had drunk the 
toast, with a marked expression of feeling. The cheering had hardly 
subsided before Sir Charles rose from his seat, and, in afew rapid sen- 
tences, delivered in a loud tone of voice, returned thanks for the honour 
done to him, in these words,—My lords and gentlemen, I rise to thank 
you for the honour you have done me in drinking my health this night, 
and also to thank the chairman for the compliments which he has been so 
kind asto pay me. I go to India at the command of her Majesty, by the 
recommendation of his Grace the Duke of Wellington, and I believe I go 
also with the approbation of my countrymen. (Much cheering.) My 
lords and gentlemen, I might weil bave been excused had [ declined, under 
the pretence that | have not ability to sustain such a command in the 
trying circumstances of the present hour. Two considerations prevented 
my declining this grand and honourable command. The first was, that I 
have the kind advice and assistance of the greatest soldier in the world. 
(Loud cheers.) The next was, that I go forth with the most full and per- 
fect confidence in the support and cordial co-operation which I shall re- 
ceive from her Majesty’s Ministers and the hon. Court of Directors. (Loud 
cheers.) But at present, my lords and gentlemen, you will, I think, all 
agree with me that the old proverb applies—“ Least said is soonest mend- 
ed ;” and that I should conclude by praying to God that I might not dis- 
appoint the confidence of her Majesty, the recommendation of his Grace 
the Commander-in-Chief, the expectation of the Court of Directors, and 
the confidence of the people of Eagland. (Loud cheers. 4 ; 
The Chairman, in proposing the health of the Duke of Wellington, said, 
—Most sincerely do I rejoice, and I am sure you all do the same, in being 
honoured with the presence on this occasion of the noble Commander-in- 
Chief (loud cheers); and I can only express my hope that, for many 
years to come, we may still be favoured with his presence. (Cheers.) The 
East India Company will ever remember with pride and satisfaction, that 
it was in India that the first germ of that laurel which now so abundantly 
encircles the brows of the noble Duke first sprung. (Cheers.) In the 
swift career of glory which he ran, he won for himself, not the admiration 
of the world only, but he entitled himself to the eternal gratitude of his 
country. (Cheers.) I need not adda word more, as I am sure you will 
all give a cordial reception to the health of the Duke of Wellington. (The 
toast was drunk with great enthusiasm. ) ¢ 
The Duke of Wellington was received with loud cheers. He said,—On 
my own behalf, and on behalf of the army, I beg leave to return you my 
thanks for the honour you have done me in drinking my health, and for 
the notice yeu have taken of the army. I hope the army will long con- 
tinue to deservo the approbation of such a society as that which now sur- 
ronnds me. (Cheers.) I have frequently enjoyed the hospitality of the 
East India Company on occasion of the festivities which you have given 
on the appointment of governor-general, the commanders in chief of your 
armies, ps | governors of the different presidencies; but I have never attend- 
ed on any occasion with more satisfaction than on the present. The gallant 
officer whom yuu have selected fur the command of your army in the East 
Indies has distinguished himself already in that country by his conduct and 
services. He conducted the most important operations under very difficult 
circumstances, with the utmost ability. He has fought several general 
actions, extraordinarily well contested by the enemy, with uniform success; 
and he has shown that he deserves the confidence of the Government he 
serves and of the troops he commands ( Loud cheers.) Under these circum- 
stances, itis not surprising that those whose duty itis to advise the Sover- 
eign,and those who are entrusted by Jaw with the administration of the Brit- 
ish constitution in India, should have selected my hon. and gallant friend to 
be Commander-in-Chief in India on this occasion, when it may be expot- 
ed that, as the period of service of the noble Lord who now commands 
the army in India will soon expire, he will be desirous of returning back 
to his native country, and therefore it is desirable that an officer of such 
distinguished service and ability as my ee friend should be on the 
spot to take the command of the army. It is well known that I do not 
consider the existing period as one of extraordinury emergency—(Loud 
cheers)—seeing that the great object of the war now existing has been 
attained. A great fortress, which it was absolutely necessary to obtain 
in order to the maintenance of peace, has fallen into our hands, after a 
long siege, without loss of men, by the unqualified surrender of the enemy, 
who was in possession of it. A battle has since been tought, where it is 
true that great losses have been ‘sustained; and, my Lords and gentle- 
men, I must say, that if we ars to fight great battles, and if great risks 
are to be incurred, we must expect to incur losses in the attainment of 
great actions. If such actions should be fought and such victories gain- 
ed withvut loss, it would be considered that little honour would be ac- 
quired in gaining such victories. (Cheers.) But I do consider it of the 
utmost importance that sucha man as my honourable and gullant friend 
should be at the head of the army. Though I do not look upon the cir 
cumstances of the country at this moment to be such that they should be 
considered gloomy—(Cheers)—I am delighted that my honourable and 
gallant friead goes to take the command there. I have done every thing 
in my power to attain that object, both with my honourable and gallant 
friend and elsewhere; and I have no doubt, if the occasion offers itself, 
that my honourable and gallant friend will so conduct himself as to do 
honour to himself, and give satisfaction to this country by some of the most 
splendid successes of which it has ever received accounts. (Loud cheers.) 
Amongst the company present were, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis 
of Clanricarde, the Marquis of Breadalbane, the Marquis of Sligo, the 
Barl of Clare, Lord Campbell, Sir George Gray, Sir T. Baring, Sir J. Hob- 
house, Sir James Graham, the Right Honble. Henry Labouchere, - 
Right Hon. Fox Maule, the Right Hon. Lalor Sheil, Sir John Romilly, 
and several civil and military officers of high rank. 





THE STORY OF KOOMPANEE JEHAN. 


“ ” ig the common nickname of 
adpeceragmedernman nua tam, Compe, its Tendon 
ofc yore Tbe ill-oriil batoaan ine ance Jehan ne tieier iscuficientl n torivus; and 
the alight variations in names willbe easily Understo.d by the attentive reader of this smart 
satire. 

Some time after the death of Aurungzebe, 
tion over India, from the seven mouths of t L 
the Indus, who was renowned above most other monarchs fur his strength, 
riches, and wisdom. His name was Koompanee Jehan. _Althoagh this 
monarch had innumerable magnificent palaces at Delhi and Agra, at 
Benares, Boggleywollah, and Ahmednuggar, his common residence ~ 
in the beautiful island of Ingleez, in the midst of the capital of which, the 
famous city of Lundoon, Koom) auee Jehan had a superb castle It was 
called the Hall of Lead, aud stood at the foot of the Mountain of Cora, 
close by the verdure-covered banks of the silvery Tameez, where the 
cypresses wave and the zendewaus or nightingales love to sing. In this 


mighty prince held domina- 
oo cena to the five tails of 











| palace he sate and gave his orders, to govern the multitudinous tribes 











1849. 


which paid him tribute from the Cashmerian hills to the plains watered by 

e Irrawaddy. - 
a great oom Jahan governed his dominions with the help of a 
council of twenty-four vizeers, who assembled daily in the Hall of Lead, 
and who were selscted from among the most wealthy, wise, brave, and 
eminent of the merchants, scribes, and warriors in the service of his vast 
empire. It must have been a grand sight to behold the twenty four 

es assembled in Durbar, smoking their kaleoons round the monarch’s 
magnificent throne. . , 

It was only by degrees, and by the exervise of great cunning and pro- 
digious valour that the illustrious Koompanee Jehan had acquired the 
vast territory over which he ruled. By picking endless quarrels in 
which he somehow always seemed to be iu the right, and innamerable 
battles iu wh ch his bravery ever had the uppermost, he added kingdom 
after kingdom to his possessions. Thus the Rajahs, Princes, and Em- 
perors of India fell before the sword of his servants; and it is known 
that Boonapoort, Tippoo Sahib the Mysore Sultan, and Iskender Shah, 
who conquered Porus Singh on the banks of the Indus, were severally 
overcome by the lieutenants of the victorious warrior who dwelt in the 
Hall of Lead. Que of his chieftains, the great Elleen-Burroo, a stronger 
man than Antar himself, carried off the gates of Somnauth on his back, 
and brought them to the foot of the throne of the palace, on the Mountain 
of Corn, by the banks of the Tameez. - . 

This mighty monarch, who had guns enough to blow this world into 
Jehanum, aad who counted his warriors by lakhs, was, like many other 
valiant sovereigns, the slave of a woman; and historians assert that he 
gave up the chief government of his country to the E » his mother, 
the Queen of the Ingleez, of whom he was so fond that he could deny her 
nothing. He appointed the Captains and Colonels of his regiments, but 
the Empress nominated ull the chief Generals; and the chiefs of Koom- 
panee Jehan, who had carried his flag in a hundred battles, and notched 
their scimitars across the head-pieces of thousands of his foes, were not 
a little angry to see strangers put over them, who came from Lundoon 
smelling of mask and rose-water, and who got the lion’s share of the 
honours, while they took no more (as who indeed can?) than the lion’s 
share of the fighting. Thus, in a famous action in Kabool, a captain of 
Artillery blew open the gates of the city, but it was the General Keen 
Bahawder, who was made a bashaw of three tails for the feat which the 
other had done: and for a series of tremendous actions on the Sutlej 
River, Harding Shah, Smith Sahib, and Goof Bahawder were loaded with 
honours, and had their mouths well nigh choked with barley-sugar; 
whereas one of Koompanee’s own warriors, Littler Singh, abetter soldier 
than any of those other three, was passed over with scarcely a kind word, 

In conseqaeuce of this system—for the Empress mother would often 
cause her sous to select Generals who had no more brains than a wezz or 
goose—disasters frequently befel Koompanee Jehan’s armies, and that 
ae had many a bekhelool or hard nut to crack. One army was way- 

aid and utterly destroyed, because the Queen Mother chose to give the 
command of it to an officer, out of whom age and illness had squeezed 
all the valour; and another warrior, though as brave as Roostum, yet was 
a hundred years old, and had been much better at home handling a pipe 
than asword, for which his old hands were now quite unfit. Lion as he 
was, Goof Bahawder did not remember that the enemy with whom he 
had to do were derans or foxes, and that a pack of toxes is more danger. 
ous than alioninapit. Finding one day the enemy posted in a jungle, 
this Goof Bahawder sent his troops in upon them helter-skelter ; but 
some fled, many were slain, Goof Bahawder had a dismal account of the 
battle to render, and when he claimed a victory, people only laughed at 
his ancient beard. 

Thatis, they would have laughed, but the people of London were in 
too great a rage to be merry. Everywhere, in every house, from the 
highest to the lowest, from the Omrahs and Lords prancing about in the 
Meidan, to the camel-drivers in the streets, all men cried out; and the 
Indian soldiers said,“ Why is this old man to be left to jeopardise the 
lives of warriors, and bring our country to sorrow? If the Queen-moth- 
er will appoint chiefs for the armies of India, over the heads of those who 
are as brave and more experienced, let her give us men that are fit to 
lead us. Who is Goof, and who is EB! hinstoon, and who is Keen, to 
whom you give all the honours ? And what are they to compare to 
Thack well and Littler, to Nottand Pollock Khan 2” 

Now there was, when the news came to the City of London, that Goof 
Bahowder had been beaten upon the banks of the Chenaub, a warrior 
who, though rather old, and as savage as a bear whose head is sore, was 
allowed by all mankind to be such a Roostum as had never been known 
since the days of Wellingtoon. His name was Napeer Sing. He, with 
two thousand men, had destroyed thirty thousand of the evsemy: he de- 
spised luxury: he had a beak like an eagle, and a beard like a Cashmere 
goat. When he went intoa campaign he took with him but a piece of 
soap and a pair of towels; he dined off a hunch of bread and a cup of 
water. ‘“ A warrior,” said he, “should not care for wine or luxury, for 
fine turbans or embroidered shulwars ; his tulwar should be bright, and 
never mind whether his papooshes are shiny.” Napeer Singh was a lion 
indeed ; and his mother was a mother of lions. 

But this lion, though the bravest of animals, was the most quarrelsome 
that ever lashed his tail and roared in a jungle. After aining several vic- 
tories, he became so insolent and contemptuous in kis behaviour towards 
King Koompanee Jehan, whom he insulted, whom he assailed, whom he 
called an old woman, thatthe offended monarch was glad when General 
a Singh’s time of service was out, and vowed no more to employ 

im. 

It is related of Napeer Singh, that when he was recalled to the island 
of the Ingleez, he went into the Hall of Lead, where the monarch sate 
in full Darbar, knocked the heads of the twenty-four vizeers one against 
another, and seizing upon ~ Koompanee himself by the royal nose, 
ee him round the room, and kicked him over among the sprawling 

ounsellors of his Dewan. I know not whether this tale is true; but 
certain it is, that there was a tremendous tchwash or row, and that when 
the king heard the General's name mentioned, he grew as yellow and as 
sour as an ilemoon or lemon. 

When the news of Goof’s discomfiture came to Lundoon and the Hall 
of Lead, and the Queen of Feringhistan, all the Ingleez began to quake 
in their shoes. “ Wallah! wallah!’’ they cried, “ we have been made 
to swallow abominations! Our beraks have been captured from our 
standard-bearers ; our guns have been seized ; our horsemen have fled ; 
overpowered by odds, and because Goof Bahawder knew not how to 
lead them into battle. How shall we restore the honour of our arms? 
What General is there, capable of resisting those terrible Sikhs and their 
Sirdars?” 

The voice of all the nation answered, “‘ There is but one Chief, and his 
name is Napeer Singh.” 

The twenty-four vizeers in the Hall of Lead, remembering the treatment 
which they had received from that General, and still smarting uneasily 
oa their seats from the kicks he had administered, cried out, ‘No: we 
will not have that brawling Sampson—take any man bat him. If Goof 
Bahawder will not do, take Goom Bahawder. We will not have Napeer 
Singh, or eat the - of humility any more.” 

The people still roared out, ‘‘ Nobody can help us but Napeer Singh.” 

Now Napeer Siagh was as sulky as the twenty-four vizeers. ‘‘ J go,” 
said he, “ to serve a monarch who has been grossly ungrateful, aud whose 
nose I have tweaked in Durbar ? Never, never !”’ 

But an old General, nearly a hundred years old, ver 
wise, the Great Wellingtoon, came to Napeer Singh | 
in these times of danger men must forget their quarrels, 
country. If you will not go to the Indus, I will go—one or other of us 
must.’”” They were two lions, two Roostums, two hooked-beaked eagles 
of war—they rushed into each other's arms, and touched each other’s 
beaks. “O Father,” Napeer Singh said, “I will go:” and he went forth 
and he bought a piece of soap, and he got two towels; and he took down 
from the wall his bright and invincible talwar. 

Meanwhile the twenty-four vizeers and King Koompanee Jehan had 
been taking counsel in the Hall of Lead. Many of the angry ones said 

No, we will not appoint him our General.” Some of the wise vizeers 
said, “ Yes, we will a point him; for without him we shall not have a 
kingdom at all.” At last the King himself, who was bajil, that is very fat, 
rose up from his throne and said— 

“O my Agas, Omrahs, Scribes and men of war. There are many 
things which a man has to put into his imameh or pipe which are hard to 
smoke, and have an unsavoury pene. I have been smoking a chillum 
. this sort. A kick is not a pleasant thing to swallow, neither is a dose 
of senna. Adversity sometimes prescribes one, as the Doctor orders the 
other. We have had all our beards ulled, we have been kicked round 
~ room, we have been tumbled helter-skelter by this Roostum. Bek- 
= Petes * my sides ache still with the violence of his papooshes. 

ut what of this? If Lam drowning, shall I refuse to live because a 
ma pulls me out of the water by the nose? If I want to fly, shall I re- 
we a horse because he kicks a little? I will mount him in the name of 
ve, and ride for my life. We know how strong this Samsoon is; let 

im goin Heaven’s name, and fight the enemy for us. Let him go. 
— out his papers; give him a Khelat, and a feast of honour!’’ And 
© wise and heneficeut monarch sat down and puffed away at his ka- 


old, brave and 
said, ‘‘O Khan, 
and serve their 








Che Albion. 


leoon, as the twenty-four vizeers, bowing their heads, cried—*‘ Be it ‘s 
the King says.” 

ube ey Ingleez heard of this Elemzshedeh, or good news, they all 
rejoiced exceedingly ; and the Qaeen of the Ingleez clapped her hands 
for joy. 
‘And as for Napeer Singh, he took his two towels, and his piece of soap, 
and his scimetar, and he went away to the ship which was to carry bim 
to the sea.—P: 

Commanp 1s Ixp1a.—We are told that on the ministers concluding their 

deliberations on the subject of the disastrous news from India, his Grace 
the Commander-in-Chief was requested, through Lord Fitzroy Somerset, 
to furnish the Board of Control with the names of three officers whom 
he might deem to be equal to the crisis, and the three names furnished 
by his Grace were—Sir Charles Napier—Sir Charles Napier—Sir Charles 
Napier. [tis also said that Sir Charles at his first interview with the 
Duke declined the appointment, ‘when the Duke observed “ then, Sir 
Charles, I must go myself.” There was no refusing suchaclaim. The 
on dit is not reliable, but it shows the character of the man. 





Mepats ror War Services 1x Casapa.—By the politeness of Jno. 
Clarke, Esq., we had, yesterday, the pleasure of inspecting, we believe, 
the first of these medals, for services in Canada, which has reached the 
Colony. It was received, by last packet, for Mr. Clarke’s brother, who 
served as Aid-de-Camp to Colonel De Salaberry at Chateauguay. Asa 
work of art, the model te chaste and beautiful—on the face is an admira- 
ble likeness of our gracious Queen, and on the reverse, a figure of Britan- 
nia—on the edge is engraved the name of the meritorious receiver, and 
on the clasp, is the word “ Chateauguay.” The medal is a size smaller 
than the Waterloo medals.—Montreal Herald. 


Astor Linrary.—An advertisement has been issued offering two pre- 
miums for approved plans for the Astor Library, to be erected in this 
city under the will of the late John Jacob Astor. The sums offered 
are $300 for the best, and $200 next in merit, respectively. The de- 
sign to be submitted on or before the 24th inst. The building is to be 
65 feet front, and 120 in depth. 

Noypescript Antmat —Colonel Fremont has the credit of having, 
whilst on his last expedition in Mexico, caught and sent home a woolly- 
haired horse. Such an animal is now on exhibition and claims kindred 
through the medium of advertisements with the camel, elephant, and 
deer. But for the assurance of the exhibitors, we should have consider- 
ed it to be a very common horse, with mane and forelock shaved, and a 
naturally shaggy coat operated on by Atkinson's curling fluid. 








Havre Srramers.—A very large quantity of valuable silk goods were 
brought over by steamer from Havre to Southampton, for shipment on 
board the Hermann, steamer, now due at this port. She was to sail for 
New York on the 26th ult., two days after the Niagara. 





Osituary—At the Firs, Kenilworth, Ann Hassard, eldest and beloved child 
of Lieutenant-General Thomas Stewart, of the Madras Army. This young lady 
was in her fifteenth year; she was fond of equestrian exercise, and occasionally 
went into the stable to feed a favourite horse. When convalescent from a severe 
indisposition, she went one day alone into the stable, and some time after she was 
found dead, lying between the horse’s legs, her head covered with blood. It is 
supposed that while she was feeding it, the animal seized hold of ber bonnet, and 
that in her fright she fell down and the horse kicked her.—In Eaton Place the 
Dowager Countess of Mulgrave, mother of the Marquis of Normanby.—At Val- 
paraiso, Mr. John Edye Williams, aged 18, midshipman of H M.S. Constance, 
son of Lieut. Willians of H. M.S. Agincourt.—Lieut. E. Hennah, R. N.—At 
Catharine-lodge, Inveresh, Sir Charles Dalrymple Ferguson, of Kilkerraw and 
Halles, Bart.—On the 14th ult. at Penshurst, Kent, Sir John Shelley-Sidney, Bart. 
Paternally, Sir John descended from the ancient Sussex family of Shelley, none 
eldest son of the first Sir Bysshe Shelley, Bart., of Castle Goring, by his secon 
wife; and maternally, he was heir and representative ofthe Beaumonts and Beau- 
champs, ancient Earls of Warwick, and the Dudleys and Sydneys, Earls of Lei. 
cester. In 1793 he assumed the additional surname and arms of Sydney, and in 
1818 was raised tothe degree of Baronet. At the period of his decease Sir John 
had completed his 77th year. He married, 29th April, 1799, Henrietta, daughter 
of the late Sir Henry Hunloke, Bart., of Wingerworth, and by her (who died 5th 
Feb. 1811) he leaves anonly surving child, Philip-Charles. Lord De L’Isle and 
Dudley, who married Lady Sophia Fitzclarence, and was raised to the peerage by 
the late King. Penshurst, in Kent, the seat of the deceased Baronet, is classic 
ground, as the birthplace of Sir Philip Sydney, the soldier, the scholar, the states- 
man, and the poet—the favourite of his Sovereign, and the idol of the people.— 
Athis seat Hawnes Place, Bedfordshire, Lord Curteret, third son of the first 
Marquis of Bath, The title becomes extinct—On the 11th ult athis seat, West- 
horpe House, Bucks, aged 92, Field-Marshal Sir George Nugent, Bart., K.C.B., 
who was the oldest officer in the British service. Sir George entered the army 
the 5th July, 1773. Heserved through the first American war, and was present 
at the capture of Forts Montgomery and Clinton, In 1783, Sir George accompan- 
ed the brigade of Guards to the Continent: was present at the sege of Valencien- 
nes, and fought in the actions of St. Almond and Licelles. In 1794, Sir George 
was at Walcheren with the 85th—a regiment he himself raised and of which he 
wascolonel. During the whole of the Irish rebellion Major-General Nugent com- 
manded the northern district of Ireland. In 1811, he was nominated Commander 
in-Chief of the forces in India ; this distinguished post he occupied till 1813, when 
he retired, withthe rank of General. In June, 1846, Sir George Nugent became 
one of the nine Field-Marshals of England. He hasalso been Keeper of Mawes 
Castle since 1796. He was created a Baronetthe 28th November, 1806. Sir 
George was an M.P. in Ireland before the Union, and in England for many years. 
He married,{the 16 Nov., in 1797, Maria, seventh daughter of Cortland Skinner, Esq 
pegs any of New Jersey, by whom (whodied in 1834) he leaves—with another 
son, and two daughters, Lady Fremantle and Lady Clayton—a son and successor, 
the present Sir George Nugent. 

Sir Robert Frankland Russell, Bart. of Thickelby, Yorkshire.— On the 5th alt., 
the Right Hon. Siz Alex. Johnston of Carnsalloch, Dumfries, formerly Chief Jus- 
tice and President of the Council of the Island of Ceylon.—On the 10th ult., in the 
76th year of his age, Sir Robert Shaw, Bart. formerly M.P. for Dublin.—On the 
9th ult, at an advanced age, Anthony White, Esq., the very eminent surgeon of 
Parliament street, W estminster.—On the 17th ult. at Portsmouth, Rear Admiral 
Searle, — 75.—On the 18th ult. in the Workhouse of St, George’s-in-the-East, 
Louis Christophe, the sot-disant Prince of Hayti.—Maria Christina, Dowager 
Queen of Sardinia, the widow of the late Charles Felix, and aunt to the present 
King Charles Albert, died at Savona on the 11th ult in her 70th year. She was 
a great patroness of the arts and sciences, and remarkable for her benevolence.— 
On the 14th ult. Col. T. Gooch of Shenfield Place, Essex.—Onthe 6th ult. Col. 
Daniel Robinson.—On the 6th ult. at Valentia, Tue Right HONOURABLE Mav- 
RICE FITZGERALD, KNIGHT oF Kerry. The Knightof Kerry was long promi- 
nently before the public. For thirty-five years he represented the county of Ker- 
ry in Parliament, and held, at various periods, influential official appointments. 
From 1799 to 1802 he was a Commissioner of Customs and Excise in Irelaad, and 
from 1800 to 1806 a Lord of the Irish Treasury. In 1829 he became Vice-Treas 
urer of his native country, and in 1834 was constituted a Lord of the Admiralty. 
The Right honourable gentleman was also a Privy Councillor, a County Magistrate, 
and Lieutenant-Colonel of the Kerry Militia. He was born 29th December, 1774, 
and has been twice married. His first wife was Maria, daughter of the Right 
Hon. David La Touche ; and his second, a widow lady named Knight. By the 
former he leaves several sons and daughters. The family of the Knight of Kerry 
is a branch of the illustrious house of Desmond, and was founded by Maurice 
Fitz John, third son of John Fitz Thomas Fitzgerald, Lord of Decies and Des- 
mond, who, by virtue of his Royal Seignory as a Count Palatine, created three of 
hissons Knights. Thus originated the peculiar titles of “ the White Knight,” the 
“Knight of Glin,” and “the Knight of Kerry’—titles that have been constantly 
recognized in acts of Parliament and patents under the Great Seal. 





ApPeINTMENTS.—Odo Russell Esq ,to be an unpaid aétache to the British Em- 
bassy in Austria—Capt Sir James Stirling R.N.,to be Naval Aide-de-Camp to 
Her Majesty, vice Sir Andrew Green, promoted. 





Arup. 


War Orrice, Marcu 16—Ist Regtof Life Gds—Cor and Sub-Lt and 
Adjt G Andrews to have rank of Lt ; Lt W George Earl of Munster to be Capt 
by pur, v Cavendish, who ret ; Cor and Sub-Lt L J © Lord Eliot to be Lt, by p 
vthe Earl of Munster ; R Bateson, Gent., to be Cor and Sub-Lt, by par, v Lord 
Eliot. 2d Regt of Drags—G Buchanan, Gent, to be Cor by pur,v D C R C Bu- 
chanan, Who ret. 4th Regt of Ft—Lt D Maunsell, from 84th Ft, to be Lt, v Bol- 
ton, whoex. &th Ft —Staff Assistant-Surg R M Allento be Assist-Surg, v Mo- 
styn, prom on Staff. 9th Ft—Lt S C Lousada, from 14th Ft, to be Lt, v De 
Wilton, who ex. 14th Ft—Lt WT De Wilton, from 9th Ft, to be Lt, v Lousa- 
da, who ex. 17th Ft—Assist Surg T Cowan, MD from 60th Ft, to be Assist Surg 
v Heffernan, who ex. 31st Ft—Staff Surg of Sec Class, J C Millingen, to be Surg 
v Hart pro on Staff. 60th Ft—Assist-Surg N Heffernan, MD, from 17th Ft, to 
be Assist Surg, v Cowan, who ex. 638th Ft—EnsC § Nicol to be adjt, v Storer, 
who resigns the Adjcy. 84th Ft—Lt J G Boulton, from 4th Ft to be Lt, v Manu- 
sell, who ex. 

Hospitat Starr.—Surg H Hart, MD from 31st Ft, to be Staff Surg of the 
First Class, vy W Bain, MD whose prom has been cancelled ; Assist Surg J W 
Mostyn, from 6th Ft, to be Staff Surg of the Sec Class, v Millengen, app to 31st 
Ft: Staff Assist Surg S H Hardy, MD, from half pay, to be Staff Assist Surg, v 
Allen, app to 6th Ft. 

War Orrice, Marcu 23.—Scots Fusilier Guards—Ens and Lt Lord B TM 
Cecil to be Lt and Capt, by pur,v Sir A K Macdonald, who ret: R Mostyn, 
Gent, to be Ens and Lt, by pur, v Lord Brownlow Cecil. 23d Ft—Sec Lt E 
Howell to be First Lt, by pur, v Vincent, who ret ; E W Fenwick, Gent, to be 
Sec Lt, by pur, v Howell. 25th Ft—Ens H Veitch to he Lt, wt pur, v Needham 
dec, Jan, 9; J P Kennedy, Gent, to be Ens, v Feitch, 27th Ft—Lt-ColH A 
Magenis, from 87th Ft, to be Lt-Col, vice Johnstone, who ex. 28th Ft—G S Wil 
son, Gent, to be Ens, wt pur, v Truell,dec. 36th Ft—Lt R Barnston to be Capt- 
by pur, v Abbott, who ret; Ens B R Shaw to be Lt, pur,v Barnston ; R H Mar, 
tin, Gent to be Ens, by p, y Shaw; Ens R Harbord to be Adjt, v Barnston, prom, 


179 


38th Ft—Ens C F T Daniell to be Lt, wt pur, v Jackson, dec, March 7; Serg-Maj- 
F Bailey tobe Ens, v Daniell. 44th Ft—Lt W Faussett,to be Capt, by por v 
Lindsay, who ret; Ens G Barchard tebe Lt, by pur, v Faussett; A P Moore, 
Gent, to be ean f pur, v Burchard. 50th F A Alexander, from 78th 
Ft, to be Surg. v Webster, whoex. 57th Ft—Ens H Butler to be Lt, by pur, v 
Swetenham, who ret: GU Hague, Gent, to be Ens, by Tag v Butler. 59th Ft— 
Lt BE @Byam to be Capt, by pur, v Peebles, whoret ; Eos JS P Clarke to be Lt 
by pur, v Byam ; F Hacket, Gent, to be Ens, by pur, v Clarke. 75th Ft—Cap 
J H Cox, from half-pay Unatt, tobe Capt, vG T , who ex. 78th Ft—Surg 
A © Webster, from 50th Ft, tobe Surg, v Alexander, whoex. 87th Ft—Lt 
Col M C Johnstone, from 27th Ft, to be Lt-Col, v Magenis, who ex. 94th Ft—Lt 
E 8 Mercer to be Capt, wt pur, vH Nicholls, who ret upon “w-% Ens W J 
Bell to be Lt, v Mercer. Sg ht Gent, tobe Ens, v Bell. 99th Ft—Lt 1H 
H Gall to be Capt, by pur, v Hamilton, who ret ; Ens  W Despard to be Lt, by 
pur, V Gall: L J Nunn, Gent, to be Ens, by pur v Despard. : 

Brevet.—Capt W H Kenny, hf-py, 61st Ft (Staff Officer of Pensioners), to 
hnve the local rank of Major in New Zealand. 

MEMORANDUM.—John Pitt Kennedy, of the 25th Regiment of Ft, to have the 
local rank of Majorin the East Indies, March 24. 

A new Musxkert Batut.—Early in last month experiments were carried on at 
the Batt, in the Royal Arsenal, Woolwich, to test the merits of a musket-ball-sub - 
mitted to the select committee by Mr. Minesinger, an American by birth, but of 
Dutch origin. The ball is cast with a four-grooved tail attached to it, in 
about three-fourths the diameter of the spherical portion ; the tail resembles t! 
first screw propellers introduced with four leaves, but with a slight obliquity in- 
stead of the archimedan screw form, Mr. Minesinger fired his balls, 23 to the 
pound weight, from a long-barrelled gun, the 1 being 5 feet 7 inches : and 
Colonel Dundas, C.B., from a common musket, the barrel of which was 3 feet 3 
inches long, both guns having percussion locks. The firing commenced at 100 
yards but, after a few rounds by each, the distance was extended to 200 yards, 
when excellent practice was made, the target being struck every time, with two or 
three exceptions. The appendage to the ball gives it singular advantages to the 
ball projected from rifles, and considerably increases the range ; and should it, on 
farther trial, be approved of, every common musket by its adoption would possess 
the projective power and excellent direction at present only attained with any de- 
gree ofcertainty by groovedrifles. Itis intended to have a of 32-p 
solid shot and shells cast on the same principle for trial in the Marshes. — 

Tue ComMANDER-IN-Cuter iN InD1A.—Majors Macmardo and William Na- 
pier, Sir Guy Campbell and —_ Byng, have been appointed Aides-de-Camp 
to his Excellency Sir Charles James Napier, G.C.B. Colonel George Napier, 
eldest son to Sir George, will accompany his uncle as an extra Aide-de-Camp, 
while the office of Military Secretary will be filled by that able and distinguished 
officer of the Royal Engineers, Captain Pitt Kennedy ‘ 

Starr. —Captain Fellows, late of the 53rd Regiment, has been appointed Staff 
Officer of Pensions at Thurso, N,B., vacant by the decease of Quartermaster Mac- 
donald, Lieutenant-Colonel Hope is to act as Staff Officer of Pensions at Edin- 
burgh, during the absence of Captain Tulloch in North America. 

INCREASE TO THE ARMY.—The following regiments have received orders to 
complete their rank and file to 1000 each, viz.:—26th, Cameronians, 15th, 30th, 
41st, 47th 49th, and 62th, and to hold themselves in readiness to embark for for- 
eign service. 

BounTiEs To So_p1IERs.—To complete the regiments in India, as well as those 
about to proceed there, as quick as pone the Government has sanctioned a 
bounty of one guinea to each man who shall volunteer from other regiments, to 
enable him to defray the expense,of altering his clothing and appointments. 


Navy. 


9.—Corps of Royal Marines—First Lt. W. 7-3-4 pee 
e 











Admiralty, March 
Capt., v Geavhamn removed from the service; Sec. Lt. C. B. Parke to 

t., v Sayer, prom. : 
: “adm vall +g March 12 —Retired Captains—Henry Thomas Davies, and the 
Hon. Henry Dilkes Byng, to be retired Rear- Admirals, on the terms proposed in 
the London Gazette of the 1st of Sept., 1846. ; 

Admiralty, March, 19.—The following promotions have this day taken place, 
consequent on the death of Rear-Admiral Thomas Searle, C. B., on the 17th inst. 
Rear-Admiral of the Blue, Philip Browne, to be Rear Admiral of the White.— 
Captain William Bowen Mends to be Rear-Admiral of the Blue. 

Capt. W. B. Merds obtains his flag by the death of Rear-Admiral Searle. 

AppoINTMENT—Captain Robert Fitz Roy to the command of the Arrogant, 46 
screw-frigate, at Portsmouth. af 

Navat Covrresizs.—Commander 8. Mercer of the U. 8. Navy in his 
letter to the Secretary of the Navy, dated U. 8. ship Jamestown, Genoa, 
Feb. 28, thus expresses himself:—‘ Too high a compliment cannot be 
paid to the conduct of the British officers on this occasion ; for although 
the Vengeance had anchored but about an hour before the funeral took 
place, they promptly made their appearance without notice, in time to 
move with the procession.” 





Cyess. 


PROBLEM No. 24, By D. J. 


a fed 
Y 




















WHITE. 
White to play and Checkmate in three moves. 





SOLUTION TO PROBLEM NO. 23. 
White. 





1 Ktto R 5 ch K toB2 
2 R tks P ch P tks R 
3. Kt toR8ch R tks Kt 
4 PtksR becomes a Kt and checkmates. 
MATCH BY CORRESPONDENCE. 
Amsterdam. London. 
28. QtoQB3 Qtks Q 


Messrs. HARRWITZ AND Horwitz.—The very interesting contest between these fine 
players has now terminated ; having been decided in favour of the former. It was aneck and 
a atfair throughout, and at its close the score stood thus :—Harrwitz 7, Horwitz 6— 
drawn games, 


To CoRRESPONDENTsS.—D. S.—Stalemate draws the game in all countries where Chess is 
played. The laws ofthedouble game of Chess, with rules for playing it, will be found in the 
American Chess Magazine, (1847,) the whole series of which can still procured from Mr, 
Martin, the publisher, Ann street. 

J. M.—On Tuesday and Saturday evenings you will always find a goodly number of Chess 
pavers atthe Carlton House ; but we regret to say that there existsno ChessClub inNew 


ork at present 
ey 
PROFESSOR HOWS’ SHAKSPEARIAN READER. 


PPLETON & CO., 200 Broadway, publish this week Kaede ed 
Reader 3 a Collection ofthe a approved Min f ho carefuii —e 
with Introductory and Explanatory Notes, and a Memoir 0! ; 
for the use of Classes and the Family Reading Circle. By JOHN W. 8. HO , Professor of 
Elocution in Columbia College. 
—tThe Man, whom Nature's se)f hath made 
To mock herself, and TruTs to imitate.—Spenser, 


One volume, 12mo. 


“ Ata period when the fame of Shakspeare is ‘ striding the world like a colossus,’ and edi- 
tions ot his works are multiplied with a profusion that testifies the di awakened In all 
classes of society to read and study his imperishable compositions,—there nes reneee 
but litle apology for the following selection of his beteny | prepared expressly to render them 
unexceptionable for the use of Schools, and acceptable for Family aang. Apart from the 
fact, that Shakspeare is the ‘ well-spring’ from which may be traced the origin of the purest 
poetry in our language,—a long course of | rofessional experience has satisfied me that a 
necessity exists for the addition of a work like the present, to our stock of Educational Lite- 
rature, His writings are peculiarly adapted for the pur of Elocutionary exercise, 
when the system of instruction pursued by the Teacher is based upen the true principle of 
the art, viz-—careful analysis of the structure and meaning of language, rathe: thana servile 
edherence to the arbitrary and mechanical rules of Elocution. 

“'To impress upon the mind of the pupil that words are the cupadien of thought, and that 
in reading, or speaking, every shade of thought and feeling has its appropriate shade of mo- 
dulated tone, ought to be the especial aim of every Teacher ; and an author like Shakspeare 
whose every line embodies a volume of meaning, should surely form one of our Elocution- 
ary Text Books. * * * * Still, in preparing a selection of his works for the express pur- 

ose contemplated in m re «= I have not hesitated toexercise a severe revision of his 
anguage, beyond that adopted in any similar undertaking—‘ Bowdler’s Family oe rote 
not even excepted :—and simply, because I practically know the impossibility ofintroducing 
Shakspeare as a Class Book, or as a satisfactory Reading Book for Families, without 
precautionary revision.”—Extract from the Preface. 











OR SALE.—Fourteen volumes of the New York ALBION, commencing with year 1935, 





with Indexes. Apply at this office. 








H| 
| 














LAND OFFICE. 
HE SUBSCRIBER offers at inducements to emigrants and farmers in the Northern 
States oe 


. Hehas a large number of farms for sale, at prices warn from five to ten dol- 
lars per acre, with good improvements, ore: &c. The rom 10 to 20 miles of 
Prodertchaburg, in S beantiful and healthy part e with fine timber, ard 


the country. 

water powers, and some of them on the Caual so that with alittle dustry the timber would 
tentimes pay for the land. Good society, an hes and schools convenient. A grea: 
many Northern men are buying these farms, they lie principally in the Goid Region, and 
may prove as productive in gold as those already bought and now being so successfully 
Worked, Some farms have yielded as hizh as two red thousand dollars worth of gold 
WM. M. MITCHELL, Land Agent, 

ap l4—6m 





Fredericksburgh, Virginia, 31st March, 


NORTH AMERICAN LAND AND EMIGRATION wo. 
Offices, 130 Broadway, New York. 


Treasurer and Counsel. 
Tho’s Addis Emmet, Esq. 


ManaGer,—Mr. Tho’s Rawiings. 


Board of Reference. 
J.W. Schmidt, Esq, Sam’! M. Fox, Esq. 

Consul Gen’! ef Prussia. T. Sedgwick, Esq, 
Alfred Pell, Esq, A. B. Graves, Esq. 
Wwm.H Leroy, 5 Dudley Selden, Esq, 

W. B. Townsend, Eaq. 
This Company has been preemines for the purpose of receiving for sale, and buying and 
selling on commission, lands in every State of the Union 

The necessity of sueh aCompany can hardiy be questioned. Many causes have, of late 
Avan been imperceptibly, but effectually, combining to bring the subject of Emigration into 

position it now occupies, as one o/ tlie great questions of the day. F 

Companies, having for their object the promotion of culonization, have, from time to time, 
sprung up in Great i and on the Continent ef Europe, each advocating emigration to 
that particular region in which it had embarked its capital. Australia, Australasia, New Zeal- 
and, Sanada, and nearly all the British Provinces, have their Land Companies, and pay large 
dividends, while the United States are represented only by individual Agencies, which, from 

ous causes, but for the most part from the sale of lands with imperfect titles, have inflicted 
deep injury upon the confiding Emigrant, and brought disrepute upon the country. 

The deste ofthe preseut Association is to remedy an evil, which has been long felt, not only 
in Europe, but in this country,—namely; the want of an Institution or Company, having an 
organized or methodical arrangement at home, and in correspondence with established 
Agencies in Great Britain and on the Continent ; prcenas to Capitalists and Pioneers of 
Emi 8, every variety of lands, with an assurance of title and quality, thereby inspiring 
apices in the Emigrant, and elevating the American lands in the estimation of European 
capitalists. 

ers of land in large bodies are respectfully invited to confer with the officers of the 
Company, as the organizaticn and agencies already established, and the terms on which the 
any propose to t their busi present, it is believed, adequate inducements. 
The plau ofthe Company proposes to cover the entire ground of Emigration, so asto meet 
fully the views of every class of purchasers as weli as owners. 
ore detailed particulars can be obtained on application at the office ofthe Company, No. 
150Broadway, New York. 
N.B_ All letters must be postpaid. ap 142t 





President. 
Ferris Pell, Esq. 


Francis Hall, Esq, 
Charles Butler. Esq. 
Bache McEvers, Esq, 
David C. Colden, Esq, 








SINGLE GENTLEMEN,—A small private family, commencing housekeeping 
the Ist of May next, willbe willing to let three rooms on the second story, furnished, as 
sitting-rvom and two bedrooms, (pantries adjoining). Location Bleecker street, oue block 





frem Broadway. Address H. G. Albion office. apl4 
DENTISTRY. 
F J. SMITH, Dentist, (from London) has the honour to announce toe his countrymen and 
* the public in general, that he is in constant attendance professionally, at his Rooms, No 
80 Leouard strest, four doors westof Broadway. Incorruptible artificial teeth inserted on 
gold plate, from a single tooth to a whole set, of the very best materials, and of very superior 
porkmanstip, which serve all purposes of articulation, mastication, &c., and which cannot 
be distinguished from nstural ones. Hollow teeth filled with gold or metallic composition, 
80 as entirely to arrest the progress of decay, and render them useful for life. Teeth cleaned, 
and the tartar effectually removed, and teeth extracted, Terms moderate. 
ap 14—3m F. J. SMITH $0 Leonard Street. 


-_- 





GENTLEMEN'S HATS. 


PRING STYLES, 1919. WM. H. BEEBE & CO. HATTERS, 1% Broadway, New 
York, and 138 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, would respectfully invite the attention of the 
ublic aud the Trade to the fact that they are now selling their Spring Style of Gentlemen’s 
ats tocustomers from every section of the country, and the extreovdinary celebrity which 
their Ha's have obtained, they think, warrants them in saying that they are positively un- 
ualled for superiority of style, excellence of material, workmanship, and durability, by any 
other on the continentor perhaps in the world. The fact, that we are constantly supplyin 
the most fashionable Hatters, throughout the United States, with Hats of our manufacture, an 
the universal encominms bestowed upon them by the public press wherever they are known, 
would seem fo jastif us in placing their merits in a conspicuous manuer before the public 
throughout the length and breadth of the land, 
Our manufacturing facilities are now so extensive and complete, that we are enabled to sup- 
py orders te an unlimited extent, and we fully believe that the ‘frade would find their advan- 
age in purchasing of us exclusively their Fine Hats, as they would thereby secure a uni- 
formity in their quality and appearance which could not fail to increase their sales very con- 
siderably. The various quality of our Moleskin Hats at wholesale, range in price from $30 
to $54 per d»-zen; and our Beaver and Nutria Hats bear about the same Price. An exten- 
sive assortment of Gents, Youth, and Childrens Caps, of cloth and velvet, with childrens 
Beaver und Caswr, Chapeaux and Casquettes, of our own manufacture and of the letest im- 
rtation from Paris, assistin completing the varie:y of our stock. Also, Summer Hats of 
anama, Straw aod Leghorn, for Gents and Youths, with infants’ and children’s straw goods 
in the greates: variety. 
Orders for Goods ot any description in our line will be put up with the utmost despatch, 
at muderate prices, and on accommodating terms. 
W. H. BEEBE & CO. Hatters, at 156 Broadway, N. Y., 
and 138 Chestnut street, Phila 
N. B.—Gentlemen residing at a distance and wishing for a Fine Hat, of our retail quality, 
are respectiully informed that vy. remitting the price, $5, by mail, accompanied by a measure 
ofthe length and width oftheir Hats, taken in inches and fractions, on the inside of the crown 


and nearest the brim, (which will give both tue size and shape of their heads), they can have 
one forwarded to their address, warranted to fit. WV. eB. & Co. 
apl4—im 





RESIDENTS inthe United desirous of ed their sons on the of 

the Public of 

‘ = a eee ae ne Upper Canada College, Prronte 
rms no 

The extras | include rook, Latin, Frosch, Gquman, a3 = 


f Natural Philosophy, ’ f the Globes, Arithmetic, 
0! y> Dee erephy m3 ensuration, 


Book keeping, % and Perspective in addition to the 
branches of English; with composi! in Engi dF and in Greek and Latin prose 
ond verse, andin Vocal and Inetpemental, Music: apt ’ 


N. B. No boyadmitted above the of twelve years, and a certificate of character must be 
submitied from the last Tutor. ens jan 63m 


IMPROVED MAGNETIC MACHINES. 


pyccramars GRADUATED MAGNETIC MACHINES.—It is aow universally admit 
LVS ted 1y~ learned and scientific, that the mysterious power called Galvanism or Mag- 
is in fact’the PRINCIPLE OF VITALITY OR LIFE, and that disease in many of its most 
ainful forms gy | owing to the absence of this Galvanic or Magnetic power in its 
proportions. then we can readily supply this wondrous power, when it ia thus 
deficient, we can successfully com Disease; and thie has been y and perfectly at 
tained Present beautiful and scientific instrument. 
MOO. 'S GRADUATED MAGNETIC MACHINE is an pe hyo im ovemeni 
over all ether forms of manufacture, and has been adopted by the Medica! Profession gene- 
as being the most perfect, convenient and effectual Magnetic Machineinuse, It is ex 
ly simple in construction; and, therefore, not liable to get out of order, as is the case 
with all other It admits of the most perfec. control, and can be GRADUATED to 
any power, adapted to the most tender infant, or sufficient for the strongest adult, at the plea- 
eure of the op r. The magnetic inf is imparted in a continuous manner and with 
oo unpleasant sensation to the most delicate person. It requires no assistance in its use, and 


heabs. mic Mat 

OORHEAD’S MAGNETIC MACHINES are used with PosiTive AND PERMANENT suc 
cess in all cases of Rheumatism, in the head, joints or limbs; 
Gout, Tic Doulcureux, Nervous and Sick e, Paralysis, Palsy, Fits, Epilepsy, Dye 
pom hy Palpitation of the Heart, Spinal and Hi Comaininss, Stiffness of the Joints, Lumba- 
go, N Nervous Tremors, General Debility, Déficiency of Nervous and Physical En- 
ergy, and rvous Diseases. As a preventive for A plexy, the Machine is confident) 
recommended, and in the most confirmed cases of Scrofula, Dropsy, Erysipelas, Dea 
acess Curvature of the Spine, and aud similar 5 commesainta, its effects are fully successful 











Bacn Machine is com arran. Battery and all necessary appliances putup 
in neat black walautLoxes. ompanying each is anew Manuel, containing fulland le 
directions for its use and application in the various diseases in which it is cseemubandet 


Any person of ordinary intelligence can su use this machine, aseve: ard- 
tng it is perfectiy simple and in le. ~— ae a. nyemers 
far cane, Army Surgeons, and indeed every 


family should possess one of these 
netruments; they will be found of vast benefit in numerous 


beautifa in which or- 
medical treaument is of slight avail. 
Price of the Machines, complete, $12 and $04, preceding to size anu ower. They can be 
ceadily and eafely sent to any part of the United States, Canada, British i’rovinces and West 
ndies, and each instrument is warranted. 
RADUATED MAGNETIC MACHINES are manu and sold wholesale and 


The G factured 
retail by D. C. MOORHEAD, 182 Broadway, New York. 
- © addressed as above, accompanied with the cash, wil] be promptly and care- 
aliytu an 





LIFE ASSURANCE. 


NATIONAL LOAN FUND LIFE ASSURANCE SOCIETY, 
26 Cornhill, London, 
AND 71 WALL STREET, NEW YORK. 
CAPITAL, £500,000 sterling, or $2,500,000. 
(Empowered by Act of Parliament,) 2d Vice.—Royal Assent, 27th July, 1833. 
“A Savines Bank FOR THE WIDOW AND THE ORPHAN.” 
T LAMIE MURRAY, George Street, Hanover Square, Chairman of the Court of Dire - 
« tors in London, 
UNITED STATES BOARD OF LOCAL DIRECTORS. 


NEW YORK. 
C. Edward Habicht, Chairman 
John S. Palmer, 
James Boorman, 
George Barclay, 
Samuel S. Howland, | 


Samuel M Fox, 
William Van Hook, 
Aquila G. Stout, 
Fanning C. Tucker. 
Bache McEvers, 


PHILADELPHIA. 
Clement C. Biddle, Louis A. Godey, 
George R. Graham, William Jones, 
W. Peter, H. B. M. Consul, 
BALTIMORE. 


Jonathan Meredith 


. Samuel Hoffman, 
John McTavish, H B.M Consul, 


Henry Tiffany 


Donald Mclivain. Or. J. H. McCulloh. 
BOSTON. 
Geo. M. Thacher, Benjamin Seaver, 
Israel Whitney, Elijah D. Brigham. 
Franklin Dexter, E. A. Grattan, H. B. M. Consul. 





J. LEANDER STARR, General Agent. 
Epwarp T Ricmarpson, General Accountant. 
For the United States, and B. N. A. Colonies, 
Pamphets containing the rates of premium, prospectus, examples, names of agents, medi- 
cal examiners, &c, can be had free of charge on application at 971 Wall street, and of 


Agents. 

Part of the capital is permanently invested in the United States, in the names of three of 
the local directors, as trustees—available always to the Assured in cases of disputed claims 
(should any such arise} or otherwise. 

Thirty days are allowed, after each payment of premium becomes due, without forfeiture 


of policy, 

The United States Local Board meet every Wednesday, at their Office in Wall Street, 
where ail business connected with the Society’s operations in America is transacted—afford- 
ing thereby every possible advantage of promptness and attention to parties in cases of leave 
to travel, loans, settlement, &c,, 

Medical Examiners attend daily, at one o’clock, P.M., at 71 Wall Street, and at the Office 
ofthe different Local Boards and Agencies. All communications to be addressed to 

J. LEANDER STARR, Genera! Agent, 





P-TOWN FACTORY TO RENT.—The four story brick building in 27th street 
between ath and 10in Avenues, now occupied by the Manhattan Piano Forte Manufac- 
turing Co. Appiy atthe Albion office, 3 Barclay street. mar. 24 





R. EDMUND ARNOLD, from London, successor to DR. ROBERT NELSON, of 

Canada, hae removed to the Office of the jatter gentleman, and wii! attend at che usual 
hours ; viz. trom$ tf 10, A. M., from 1 to 3, P. M.,and from 6 to 8in the evening, 66 White 
street, one door from Broadway. ml0—3m 


WORES OF ART, 


INE ENGRAVINGS, OIL PAINTINGS, &c.—WILLIAMS & STEVENS, 

353 broapway, Importers and dealers in /aglish, French and German Line and Mezzotint 
Engraving:, Lithographs, Views, §c., &c., have the pieasure to offer, with their choice and 
weill-selected assortment of the productions of Modern Art, the tollowing new and im- 
portaut publications. 

By Lanpseer—* SHOEING.”—The portraits of Horse and Dog in this picture are from 
real lite. The horse, tue property of a celebrated surgeon ia Loadoa, wae a great favor- 
ite with the artist, and would never allow himself to be shod except in company with the 
Dog, ana hence he alweys attended this fine animal to the smithy. 

By Hexainc—* FEEDING THE HORSE.”— Companion to the avove, and au admirable 
specimen of this artist's most truthfaland pleasing pictures. 

Lanpseer’s “ HUNTERS AT GRASS”—Title highly significant of the subject; three 
horses, very types of speed and bottom. 

Herrine’s *SOCLETY OF FRIENDS” and “TRANQUIL ENJOYMENT?” tell us of 
what all men j 





seek. 
FRANK STone’s * IMPENDING MATE AND MATED,” (chess-playing) cre ates a sort of |" 


paradox in demonstrating that a loss is a gain, aud almost a gentle warning, or invita- 
tion—which shal we os Aameng all maidens and er who engage in thelife game. 

Two new pleasing subjects, The “HEATHER BELL” and the MOUNTAIN DAISY,” 
(happily represented by indeed a “ Beile” of nature, and a modest beauty,) the “ Rose” 
and the “ Lity,” * Morntne” and Eveninc” the “ suNNyY Hour,” and ihe “ Harvest 


FLowex” 

“THREADING THE NEEDLE,” “SUNDAY MORNING IN THE LAST CEN- 
TURY,”’ “SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY AND THE SPECTATOR” “THE SPINNING 
WHEEL.” But a future opportunity inust furnish space for further introduction to tne 
exhaustiess fund of “ Art” gratification, which tne fertile pencil of the modern school 
supplies. 

Seute proof copies ofthe “ VERNON GALLERY,” four numbers received. 

Fine and early proofs of every important publication received simultaneously with its 
appearance inEurope. Also an assortment of exceedingly choice specimens of London 
colored prints, finished expressly and suleiy for their house, in a style of exquisite beauty 
entirely unequalled. 

W.& S. have just published No. 1 of “NEW YORK IN BITS,” a graphic view of ‘the 
Park, (rry Haut and vicinity. Also a splendid bird’s-eye view of ‘NEW YORK AND 
ENVIRONS FROM WILLIAMSBURGH.” 

Frames of every description manufactured to order in the most approved and fashiona- 
ble taste. apr. 8. 


NEW YORK SOCIETY LIBRARY, 
BROADWAY, CORNER OF LEONARD STREET. 
Paton’s Highlands and Islands of Servia, 2 vols. 8vo. 
Noel’s Swiizeriand, | vol svo, 
Cervantes’ E! Buscapie, translated, 1 vol. 8vo. 
Ranke’s Memoirs of the House of Brandenburgh and History of Prussia, 3 vols. 8 vo. 
Lama’ tine’s Biographical Sketch. Poetical Meditations and Harmonies, | vol. 8 vo. 
Letters of Eminent Persons to David Hume, 1 vol. 2 vo, 
Harriet Martineau’s Household Education, | vol. 12 mo. 
Woodcrait’s Origin and Progress of Steam Navigation. 
DONATIONS, 
Documents of Congress from Hon. Jon A. Dix. 
Do Do from Hon Horace Greeley. 
Do Do _ from Hoa, Henry Nicoll. 
Pamphiets from Hon. Henry Meigs. 
Do from Hon. Gulian C. Verplanck 
N. Y. State Documents from Hon. Gabriel Disosway. 


COUNTRY SEAT AND FARM FOR SALE. 
AK RIDGE—The residence of the subscriber,is offered for sale. Itis situated within 
2 1-2 miles of the beau iful village of Canandaigua, in Ontario county, and consists of 
115 acres of choice land under high culuvation, about half of which is a rich sandy loam. 
The mansion is a modern well built two st ry house, with eleven room , and siands on a 





mar Sl. 





jan 2 For the United States, and for B. N. A. Colonies. 


LIFE INSURANCE. 
BRITISH COMMERCIAL LIFE INSURANCE CO. 

NO. 35 CORNHILL, LONDON, AND 29 WALL STREET, NEW YORK. 
ESTABLISHED IN 1820, AND INCORPORATED BY ACT OF PARLIAMENT. 
GAPITAL—£ 600,000 sterling, or 8 3,000,000. 
Trustees.—John Cattley, Esq., John Cox, Esq., Sebastian G. Martinez. 
DIRECTORS. 


Sebastian G. Martinez, Esq. 
Archibald Fred. Paxton, Esq. 
Denzil I. Thompson, Esq. 
George H. Weatherhead, M. D. 





Bir Robert Alexander, Bart. 
Thomas Benson, Esq. 
John Cattley, Esq. 
Rev. Wm. Fallofield, M. A. 
George Green, Esq. 
Managing Director, Ebenezer Fernie, Esq. 
Physician, Septimus Wray, M.D. 
Bankers, Messrs. Glyn, Halifax, Mills & Co, 
On Insurance for the whole of Life, one half the premium loaned (if desired) for the first 
seven years, at5 per cent. interest, without note, or deposit of policy, then to be paid, or 
remain as a permanent loan, at the option of the insurer. 
Premiums may bo paid either quarterly, half yearly, or annually. 
Noextra charge for searisk to Europe. 
Referees in New York, 
His Ex. Hamilton Fish, Gov. of State of N. ¥. | Anthony Barclay, Esq.,H. B. M. Consul 
Stephen Whitney, Esq., James Gallatin, Esq., 
Samuel Wetmore, Esq, J. Phillips Phoenix, Esq., 
Henry Grinnell, Esq., John Cryder, Esq., 
John H. Hicks, Esq. 
New York Medical Examiners: 
JOHN C. CHEESEMAN, Esq., M. D., 473 Broadway, 
F. U. JOHNSTON, Kiagq., M. D., 752 Broadway. 
Standing Counsel.......seecseccerececeeseeeeseseeesHon. Willis Hall. 
SOCIO‘. ..cecseccccccccccrsscccssccccocesececcesssAlbert Gallatin, Jun. 
Actuary for the Southern States, resident at New Orleans, JOHN WINTHROP, Esq., 
16 Exchange Place, N. O. 


General Agent for the United States, FREDERICK SALMONSON, 29 Wall street, 


New York. 
{( CALIFORNIA AND SPECIAL RISKS @F ALL KINDS TAKEN AT A COMMENSURATE PRE- 
MIUM. m 10 





THE CANADA LIFE ASSURANCE COMPANY. 
ESTABLISHED 21sT auGusT, 1847 
CAPITAL, £50,000, 

President, Hugh C. Baker; Vice President, J.D.Brondgeest; Solicitors, Burton & Sadleir 
Physicians, G.O. Reilly and W. G. Dickinsoa. 

Ts COMPANY is prepared to effect AssuRANCE UPoN LIvEs, and transact any business 
dependent upon the value or duration of Human Life; to grantor purchase -Annnities 
or Reversions of all kinds, as also Survivorships and Endowments. 

In addition to the various advantages offered by other Companies, the Directors of this 
Company are enabled, from theinvestment of the Premiums in the Province at a rate of com- 
pound interest much beyond that which can be obtained in Britain, to promise a most mate- 
rial of cost ; guaran’ Assurances, Survivorships or Endowments for a smaller 
— payment, or yearly p um, and granting inc ANNUITiES, whether imme- 

ate or defe for any sum of money invested with them. They can also point to the 
local position of the Company as of importance to intending Assurers, as it enables 
such Assurers to exercise control over the Company, and facilitates the acceptance of healthy 
risks, as well as the prompt eeutlement of claims. 

Assurances can be effected witx or witHouT participation in the profits of the Company ; 
the premiums may be paid in half Peet or quarterly instalments; and the HALF CREDIT sys- 
TEM having been adopted by the coed, credit will be given for one half of the first seven 
premiums, secured upon the Policy alone. 

Annual Premium to Assure £160, Whole Term of Life, 





lawn, embellisned with a variety of shrubbery and ornamental trees. The place abeunds ¥ With Without | Half Credit. | A With Without | Hal . 

in fruits of the choicest kind: such as apples, apricots, hes, cherries, raspberries, &c. Age Profits Profits * Profits. Profits. — 

Has a good barn, shed. house, ice house, and other out buildings, Immediate pos- it) 1131 16 40 3 62 214 8 

session may be had. For further particulars eoquire of Abraham Bell & Son, No. 117 Fulton 20 1174 19 6 3171 $340 8374 

street; Henry Haydock, No. 218 Pearl street; or of George Ebninger at the office of the p>] 229 1147 50 4131 81711 414 

American Fur Company, No. 59 Ann street ; or of the subscriber on the premises. 3%” 298 2 02 55 5178 419 ll 5 34 
WILLIAM 8. BURLING mar Sl 6t. 35 1167 264 60 71010 6 911 6132 














HE GREAT CHINESE MUSEUM, Chinese Buildings, 53 Broadway 
T open daily from 9 A.M. uli10P.M This large and splendid a pte ot up. 
wards of sixty figures, of thefull size of life, likenesses of individual Chinese, dressed in the 
costume appropriate to the situation and employment in which they are represented, and 
shows the costumes of the Chinese, from the Emperor, in his court ress, to the Beggar so- 
liciting alms ; with Barbers, Brokers, Carpenters, Blacksmiths, Shoemakers, Doctors, Hus- 
bandmen, Soldiers, Fortune Tellers; each surrounded by the implements of his trade or pro- 
fession. An exact representationof a Chinese Silk store, with Merchant, Purchaser, Clerk 
Coolie, &c. Two complete Chinese Rooms, one showing Opium Smoking, and the other the 
Inner Apartmen: ofa gentleman's residence. A Court of Justice, the different sects of 
Priests. A “ Tanka Boat with its crew, &c.. with models of Temples, Stores, Summer 

ouses, Theatres, Bridges, Junks and Boats, specimeas of Manufactures of Cotton, Silk, 
Porcelain, Marble, lvory, Silver and W ood. Upwards of 400 Paintings in oiland water co- 
lours by sneng which are portraits of the High Imperial Commissioner Keying, and his assist- 
ant, Wang; of the Hong merchants, Howqua, and Linchong, bee the ship 
Comprador, Boston Jack. A view of Canton, seven feet by three, and of Honan, of the same 
size; representations of the growth and manufacture of Tea, Silk, Cotton, and Porcelain. 
Also of scenery Ewenanent the Empire, processions, furniture, flowers, boats, fish, shells, &c. 
From theupper of the hall is suspended . great number of Lanterns of the most curious 
shape and description. Admittance 25 cents—c ildren under twelve years of age, half-price. 
For sale at the Ticket Officeis a e or descriptive catalogue of the Tuscan, with remarks 
upon the Customs, History, Trade, &c. of China. jan 6—tf 





The above rates, For Life Without Participation and Half Credit, will, upon comparison, be 
found to be Lower than the similar tables of any other office at awe offering to assure in 
Canada, while the assured with participation will share in three-fourths of the whole profit of 
that Branch of the Company’sbusiness. 

Tables of Rates, Prospectuses, Forms of Application, and any farther information, can be 
obtained of the Secretary, or from any of the local agents. 

Agente and Medical Officers already appointed. 

DEGMEG, .cvepncegnccepssscceape, WPI: MOMORORA, «c209sscneddsconspesccetsoveceetepente 
eee James Cameron.....0.0-sccscccccrersccssevessevcccsseses 
eee Robert M. Boucher........ceceserceccsescsccssevecesevece 
o-e rge Scott........... Dr. Alexander Anderson........ 
Montreal....s0..seeseeseeeseeeee Frederick A, Wilson.... Dr. S. C. SeWEll.....s.seccesees 
EEE sekadésecoonsesccoctescoces MNNNE BUMMER. nnccascccce semasendeboonersconesess cece 
ia. cavevcceceeees Malcolm Cameron....sccccccecesseececevecesecs eoe0 

° ves Welchand Davies.....ccccsccsesccecscccececees cove 
PR OGIRSTINGS..cacecccccccoccoces LMEMIEE BO. .06scccconcsccescectosbens covcsses eece 
TOrONtO......sseececeseesseeeseee EGMUNd Bradburne..,. Dr. George Herrick........s000 
Woodstock. ....sccceseeeeeeese » William Lapenotiere.... Dr. Samuel J. Stratford.......0+ 

Byjorder of the Board 
THOMAS M SIMONS, Secretary, 
Hamikon. 
















dec 16 





FOR SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA. 
T= BRITISH STEAMSHIP UNICORN, 650 tons burthen, will sail from Jersey City 












on the 1éth of 
Price of passaga in Cabin. Fore Cabin * im Steerage. 
Uist Bip taneive... * MID. 00 ccccccesdBoscoccce oadosties 
“ Valparaiso... oe BOO. ceccceccses WITTTTITITi iti. oo 
“ San Francisco......... G50.......cesees | peeetegenpenbeeptng 


Ap experienced surgeon will accompany this vessel. 
For passage, apply to E. CUNARD, Jr., 83 Broadway 
The Unicorn has double Lagines, had new bollers incGilasgow ia April last, is now un. 
poe wes a thorough refit, and her cabins and steerage will be very comfortable and welj 
° mar Sl 





BRITISH AND NORTH AMERICAN STEAM SHIPS. 


HE BRITISH AND NORTH AMERICAN ROYAL MAIL STEAM SHIPS betwerg 


Boston and Liverpool, and between New York and .c iHalif 
and receive Mails and Passengers. ork and Liverpool, calling e fax to lard 






Captains 
ASIR.....cceseeeeeserererereeeeesC. H. E. Judking | Hibernia ..............W. J. C. Lan 
SL ececces cenpectonseataumenrendants -A. Ryrie | Niagara coveccsoee de Bions 





Wm Harrison 
scccesesccssceed. L@lich 





Caledonia....W. Douglas. 
eet, app vessel carry a clear white light at their masthead—greenon starboard side—red og 
> Captains. From 
OE eee E.Judkins...... “ New York, Wednesday, April 4th. 
seseceerseeeeseees A. RyTiC,..ceeeseee + “ Boston, Wednesday, April 18th. 
E. G. Lott.. sees “ New York, Wednesday, May 2. 








Pagets -sShannon........ ata - = hg ee May 9. 
Che seestereeescereess TIAFTIBOD wocecceseeses “ New York, Wednesday, May 16. 
BOOINGs 6 0. s0cccecebcbede MB sccccececceccece ..@ Boston, Wednesday, May 23, 
Passage in first cabin from New York or Boston to Live 1 12) 
“Bo in second do do de / ddan sorne ens 


Freight will be char, on specie beyond an ‘sonal expenses. 
An experienced — on NMoard. 4 cere si 
All Letters and Newspapers must pass through the Post OFFICE. 
For freight or passage, apply to E. CUNARD, Jr. 

Oct 28 38 Broadway! 


PACIFIC MAIL STEAMSHIP COMPANY. 


TBE UNITED STATES MAIL STEAM PACKETS—The CALIFORNIA, 
of 1050 tons, Capt. Cleveland Forbes, PAN A WA, 108) tons, Capt. William C. Stout, 
OREGON, 1099 tons, Capt, Robert H, Pearson, now on their way to the Pacific, are in- 
tended to leave Panama for ports in California. 

Passengers in the after-cabins are furnished bedding but not wines and liquors, and will be 
allowed space for personal baggage free to the extent of 300 Ibs weight. Freight on ex- 
cess and al) other goode, $50 per toe and | per cent. on specie. 

Packages should not exceed 150 ths. weight for mule carriage. 

Passage from Panama to 
San , Or Mazatlan, 2000 miles, in State Rooms, $:75. 
San Dego, S000 do, do do 225 
San F ranewco, 3500 do, do do 250, 

Passage in the lowercabin at a deduction of one-fifth from the above rates. 

Passage in the forward cabin from Panama to either of the above-named ports, $100. in- 
cluding only such rations as are urnished to the crew. No bedding found. 

Aulantic passengers are to have priority in choice of berths. No passage secured until 
paid for. Apply at the office of the Company, New York, §4 South Street. mar 31. 


NEW YORK AND LIVERPOOL PACKETS. 


4 Proprietors of the severa] Lines of Packets between New York and Liverpool have 
arranged for their sailing, from each port on the ist, 6th, Lith, 6th, aud 20th of every 
moath; the ships to succeed each other in the following order, viz~- 











Ships. Captains. from New York. From Liverpool. 
New World........ Knight.........July 6... Nov 6... Mar 6 ;Aug 21....Dec 21,,,,Apr 21 
West Point..........Mulliner........ cccellocccccceklicocccoeht jartre2Be eee eiene 2B. .occe-0 
Pidela.......ccccccre VOMOMsececsecccee MG. ccccese 16....++.-16 |Sept 1....Jam 1....May 1 


Roscius...........s. Eldridge..........» 28 


Lh. seeveeell 
Isane Wright........Marsh 


seveseesDBeoreeceed® |seoeelbecseseeee 


sveeees AUg 1....DOC Lees APE 1 |roceelGsevvceceslGsecccees IE 










Ashburton.......00¢ BUMtINg. .....00.0000Berccccee Groveceee D | vovcedlececcseeedhoccecceeal 
Comateilation soo cclAe@rcocsececcoces Mr ecccscodbsccccces DL | .cccBBsvccccce MBccccceed 
Yorkshire.......000+ Bryer. .cccccseceeesslGscceeceelOrcoveee 16 | Oct 1... Feb 1...Junei 
Siddons. ....0..000+ CODD. .cecereess coceMccccccceMeccccceeDs | ecce Mbocccccesclhcccccccodh 


Columbia ..........+ Furber.. 
Patrick Henry.......Delano.. 
Alerloo.....s.e++. Allen... 


dds DUM EAs MEE Tonic BBs coco cccsivecccoos DD 
acy eked hm gp. hp set 
il il 


ese DeecerseerDivcevsess 













New York.......+...Cropper, ++-Mar 1....Julyl 
Sheridan... Cornis! ° Ll...coee 
Montezuma Lowber 16 
+4 Howlaan ood 
John R. Skiddy. Shipley ‘ 
xford........ ug l 
Garrick. -Eldridge... 26. +4028 cool 
Cambrid Y.+++...Nov t,...Mar 1 uly 1 -++16. +16 





° + Peabed ++»-July 1 |.... 16.. ° 
These s ‘ are all of the largest class, and are commanded by men of character and ex- 
perience. Their cabin accommodations are all that can be desired in point of comfort arid 
convenience, and they are furnished with every description of stores of the best kind. Punc- 
tuality in the days ¢ —_ will be a — to. 8100 
ice of passage to Live a eos 
“ Pen to New ee er renee ase ae 
Agents for the ships Oxford, Montezuma, Isaac Wright, Columbia, Yorkshire, eee, Cam: 
ridge and New York GOODHUE & CO, or C. H. MARSHALL, NN. Y. 
BARING, BROTHERS & CO., Liverpool. 
Agents for ships West Point, Waterloo, Constellation, and John R. Skiddy, 
ROBERT KERMIT, N.Y. 
. & J. SANDS & CO., Liverpool. 
Agents for ships Patrick Henry, Ashburton, a Big | and New World, 
GRINNELL, MINTURN & CO.,N. ¥. 
to ter chine ® uae ~_ Bayt (plea & CO., Liverpool 
Agents for ships Roscius ons, Sheridan and Garric 
' 7 SPOFFORD, TILESTON & Co, N. Y., 
BROWN, SHIPLEY & CU., Liverpoo). 


LONDON LINE OF PACKS habe ¥ : 
HIs p= kets will hereafter be composed ef the following ships, which will suc- 
cee ach ner in the order in which they are named, sailing puftctually from New 
York on the 8th and 24th of every month, from London on the i3th and 28th, and Portamoutb 
on the Ist and 16th of every month throughout the year, viz:— 











Ships. Masters. Days of Selling from New Days of Sailing from 
York. London, 
Westminster, 8. C. Warner May 8, Sept 8, Jan. 8} June 28, Oct. 23, Feb. 23 
Northumberland, R. H. Griswold “24, “ 24, “ 24] July 13, Ney. 15, Mar. is 
Southampton, new, E. E. Morgan | June 8, Oct. 8, Feb. 8; “ 28, “ 2, “ & 
Victoria, J. Johnston, Jr. “24, “ 2, “ 24) Ang.13, Dee. 13, April 13 
Hendrik Hudson,I. Pratt July 8, Nov. 8 Mar.8| “ 2, “ 2, “ 3% 
Marg. Bvans E. G. Tinker “ CS oa oe Sept. 18, Jan. 13, May 13 
Ame. Eagle J. M. Chadwick | Aug. 8, Dec. 8, April$/ “ 28, 9“ 23, % a 
Devonshire,new, H, R. Hovey. om * & * 24] Oct. 13, Feb. 18, June 1s 


These ships are all of the first class, and are commanded by able and experienced hem 
tors. Great care will be taken that the Beds, Wines, Stores, &c.,are of the beat descrip. 


tion. 

The price of cabin passage Is now fixed at $75, outward, for each adult, without wince 
and liquors. Neither the captains nor owners of these packets will be responsible for let- 
ters, parcels, or packages, sent by them, unless i ills of Lading are signed therefor 
Apply to JOHN GRISWOLD, 79 South eorh N.Y. 

mar4 and to BARING, BROTHERS & CO., don. 





PACKETS FOR HAVRE. 


ECOND LINE.—The following ships will leave Havre on the 16th, and New York os 
S the let of each month, as follows:— 







New York. Havre 
8T. DENIS, (ist 7 e fie February, 
‘@, master. let May....++- une 
ahd Ist Se Somber 16th October 
8T. NICHOLAS, ist February... fie | = 
lei, > Ist June......00+ . uly, 
ares lst October..... -» .€ 16th November. 
BALTIMORE, lst March.....+.++++++« (16th April, 
Conn master. lst July...++-+ sees ¢ 16th August, 
lst November «eee C 16th December, 
ONEIDA, lst April.....+ voee (25th May, 
Funck, master. lst August.... ++. ¢ 16th September, 
lat December.......... € 16th January. 


The ships are all oy pdb a, counmantes by men of experience in the trade. The 
rice of passage is $100 without wines or liquors. 
. cols sont ry the subscribers will betorwarded free from a4 expenses but those actual] 
incurred BOYD & HINCKEN, Agents, 
mar 13 88 Wali Street. 


BANK OF BRITISH NORTH AMERICA, LONDON. 


[p*4!ts ou the above Institution at sight vo 60 daye—and in sums to suit—for sale by 


RICHARD BELL, 
WILLIAM MACLACHLAN, 
H. E. RA 


7 Post's Buildings, Hanover Street. 
Also on the Provincial Bank of Ireland, National Bank of Scotland, and their Branches. 
4nd the Branches of the Bank of British North America in the Canadas, New Brunswick, 
Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland June 3 tf 


TARRANT'’S EFFERVESCENT SELTZER APERIENT. 


tion strongly recommends itself to the favour of the public from its positive 
beep tye es its great success in the cure of Bilious affections and Febrile 
to which the variable climate of our country is so subject. Prescribed in such 
cases it has been found universally to afford relief, and has gained much reputation among 
aedical men, who most generally sanction its use among their patients. Ina torpid ty A- 
ihe Liver, its use persevered in for a few days, has been found to aid in restoring U om ~ 
ticne of that important organ. In Goutand Rheumatism it has given great satis — ap hes 
having in a short period Sayed all the inflammatory symptoms—it has in numerst oa 
succeeded in effectually curing those afflicted. Of its successin cases of Grave et ee 
Heartburn, Costiveness and Headache, it has invariably proved ineveryinstanc 


of utility. : wT Ere 
Prepared and sold, wholesale and retail, a se nail AMES hi + ae geil ty 


. 183 Broadway. 
Also at 119 Broadway. 10 Astor House. 2 Park Row. 581 Broadway 
100 William Paring > & Brother, No. 31 East-Baltimore &t., Belimere. Dred. be 
Chestnut street, Philadelphia. C. M. Carey, Charleston. Hendrick, aghout the United 
£ Ce, © Ganel st., New Orleans, and by the principal druggis June 3 





Agents. 











EUROPEAN AGENCY. 


OR THE RECOVERY ofDormantand Improperly Withheld — er 
F ESTATE. The settlement and arbitration of commercial, % ing, an r ar on ts. 
Securing Patents for Inventions in Great Britain, Ireland, _ “ dale >: — . . des ependen- 
cies thereunto belonging, and Negotiating for the Purchase hee yh —, eal all 
an eel my fan popication sre 5 ee whieh manpeitinad Srenerty is 
pom et aa, iets 16, Noo advertisements which have appeared for the past 50 
yoarsin various British newspapers, addreseod to —- — pia FABI AN 

Communications by letter are requested to be post-paid. oe Gaserwar, New i e a 
ferences are permitted _ Charles P. Daly, Judge, Court of Common Pleas, N. 
preciand Stuart & Co fo Hevartlidge &Co W.&J.T: Tapscott. G.R. A. Ricketts, — | 
' ‘eq, Cincinnati, Ohio. A. Patchin, Esq., President Patchin 
Edward Schroder, Esq., Cl cere 


ly 
Buffalo. . 


WwW. YOUNG, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. 
OFFICE NO 3 BARCLAY STREET.