PENNY LONDON:— SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1840. ® 0H « . Plcrrp Sonfl0 for fttcrrp iWonttitte, THE LATE ATTEMPT AT MURDER AT LUDLOW ( WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES,' BV THOMAS PREST.) DOMESTIC ECONOMY. AIR—" I Never Says Nothing to Nobody." If there's anything that I detest, It is all extravagant ways; I'm an economist 1 protest, And my plan is deserving of praise ! There's mv wife, and myself, and six brats, The thing for itself sure will speak ; In management we can't be flats, For we ail live on ten bob a week '. So all you that saving would be, I'm sure YOU can never do wrong, \ If you'll only just listen, d'jou see, To the plan I'll describe in my song. On a Sunday we usually dine— You needn't to doubt it is true— ( Tbe dish 1 myself think divine) On " Block Ornaments" made into stew! We prefer it, you see, rather " high" ' Cause it's richer than meat that is sweet; And what's more, I admire it, for I Know that of it we little can eat. So all you, & c. When the stew is all gone then 1 owns, We don't lack things to put in our croup; We purchase two penn'orth of bones. Which makes us some very good soup. Potatoes and salt is rare food, To which your attention I call; And my family who know what is good, Are not bred to eat bread at all 1 So all you, & c. My two youngest boys, Sam and Bill, Extravagance think quite atrocious; Be rich men they certainly will, For in saving they've talents precocious. I keep grunters, and so we have wash, And I can't but admire their rigs ; 1 They cost nothing to keep ' em, by gosh, For they dine, tea, and sup with the pigs ! So all yon, & c. By this plan ' tis plain unto you, No quarrels our harmony spoils; We seldom can get in a stew, And nothing we know too of broils'. And what's more, we're admired by all, Of temperance th' advantage we feel; The fine family most people us call, Because we're so thin and geHteel. So all you, Bee. In clothes none's more saving I'll swear, A careful old file then I sure am ; My hoy Dick a coat now does wear, Which I wore for ten years before him'. My sons ail have very bad Jits, T'> step in my shoes too they're driven ; To describe them ' twould puzzle my wits, We make shift with one shirt amongst seven So all you, & c. So thus week after week we go on, And our life in contentment is past; And this you may depend upon, That money I'm saving quite fast. A plan I have got in my nob, The value of which must appear; Tho' th' butchers and bakers ' twill rob, * Ti » to make people live upon air ! So all you, & c. A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF MISTER three years since he left Birmingham, and resided at Leominster, visiting occasionally his former place of residence. At the last Hertford assizes Mister was tried and acquitted on the charge of robbing one of his companions of 151.. the prosecutor not being able to identify the notes stolen. Since his acquittal I e has been paying iris addresses to a young woman at Bretnyard, whose name is Weaver, aud who has some fortune. He would have been married to her ere this, but some dispute arose with her father about the transfer of a house to her, which bad, however, been settled, and he was on his way to her when the attempt at murder was made. Mister is suspected of breaking into a house ou the day before the attempt to n. uuUr Mr. Mackreth. He was seen in the neighbourhood during that night. Only a few shillings were stolen at this robbery. He is supposed to have purchased the razor at Tenbury with this money. This young man lias been for years addicted to gaming, and always cheated at cards. He frequented public- houses for the purpose of play, and, although well dressed himself, his acquaint- ances were of ihe lowest order. He had been accused and suspected of various rob- beries, and was notorious for his tricking propensities. His hearing during his last examination was bold, without insolence; and his mode of questioning the wit- nesses against him was shrewd, but very mild, unless excited by the dogged manner in which they replied to him. The magistrate having strictly enquired whether no other provocation had been given, and having been as- sured there had not, asked Mr. Antoine Fiorveau Che- iieon what he had to say in excuse for such violence ? Mr. Antqjne Fiorveau Cheneon prepared for his de- fence by throwing back his head and lifting up the black silk handkerchief before. mentioned ; and having placed himselfln this unpicluresque position, he began—" Ahah! monsieur— set— he broke my eye! Voitd, monsieur ! see my eye ! Voila !" It was very evident that beneath his black handkerchief he had a dreadful black eye, and Ihe magistrate asked how he caine by it ? The witucsses replied that it was done in disarming him of the cue, whilst complainant was still sprawling among the spittoons. Mr. Antoine Fiorveau Cheneon proceeded with his de- fence. " I vas ver mush vex at Monsieur Jacob," said lie, " because I rood pay ven it satisfied myself. 1 vas so mush up— vat you call'd— n angry, dat de taut come I vood punise him, ahah. But, monsieur, de strike vas not sufficient to murder von littel— von vara litrel fl '" Monsieur Antoine Fiorveau Cheneon had nothing bet- ter to offer in his defence, and after having repealed the same things half- a- dozen times over, lie was delivered into the iron custody of the turnkey till he should find bail for his appearance at the Sessions. A HEAVY SWELl COINC BY THE POST— GENERAL DELIVERY, lion could have any connexion with such a nefarious transaction ; l ut it was too true, the whole of it came to light, the trial was stopped, and she was taken be- fore Ihe Mayor and examined ; when in her account of the affair, she prevaricated so much, that she was re- manded, and it was ordered that her place of abode should be searched ; which, being done, other thing* were found that no account could be given ofa satis- factory description ; when the officer deemed it ad- visable to take John Hardy, ( the man so beloved by all who knew him) into custody. When before the Mayor, William Meak's master swore to him as the man who robbed him coming from market of his watch, and about 251, in sovereigns, and William Meaks swore that Jane Hardy was the woman that fold him ilia walch, when they were committed to take their trial, at the assizes which were then on. The woman made a full confession of ihe affair, and likewise many others, saying, her husband was in the habit of going out, af- ter Ihe villagers had retired to rest, and rob any person lie met, who were unprotected-,— but in ihe day he as- sumed ihe character of a hardworking, industrious man. To oil his associates and neighbours ho always acted with the most honourable intentions, which made the people have such .- i good opinion of him. The trial concluded in the conviction, of course, of John Hardy, who was transported for his natural life. Jane Hardy was acquitted, acting under the guidance of her hus- band, when she left the place, and was never heard of more. William Meaks was received back into his mas- ter's employ, who behaved with great kindness to him. Thus came the end and separation of two, who were, to all appearances, the most happiest people in exist- ence, and who possessed the good opinion of all, which makes ihe old proverb true, that " Honesty is the best Policy," for though prosperous at the time every thing will take its course, and then judge of the consequent es FALSE CHARCE OF ROBBERY! About thirty years ago there was situated in a little village aboul a mile from the town of Ipswich, a house of ancient structure, and of old inhabitants; all those that knew them respccled them as hardworking and industrious people. There names w ere John and Jane Hardy; the man followed the occupation of a wood- man, and occasionally working in the fields. At day- break every morning he was to be seen at his work, which gained him the good opinion of all the surround- ing neighbours ; for in all cases of village broils ar un- plesailtries, they flew to him for his decison, indeed, so much was he beloved, that all made him their idol. But now to unmask my t- ile — It happened about the middle of the month of May, 18—, that a highway robbery was committed, which caused every inquiry to be instituted, and a young man, by name, William Meaks, was arrrested, and charged with the same. Now it may be imagined on what ground the accused was taken. Suffice it to say, that he was one day driving hit master's waggon along the road, when within a short distance of the town, he was stopped by a woman in a cloak, and asked to become the purchaser of a watch, which she held out to him ; it being a splendid article, ( one of gold,) and she asking but a trifle for it, which sum he being possessed of, accepted the offer, and proceeded on his journey. On his return, his master perceiving the watch, ( who in fact, was the party who had it stolen from him,) and fancying to himself he could recognise in him the figure of the man who stopped him, instantly gave him into custody. The poor fellow made many attempts to assure them of his innocence, but all to no avail. He was committed to A heavy swell indeed lie is As ever was afloat, man ; And many a heavy sigh he'll cause Unto the hapless boatman. Doubtless though tho swell will say He has no cause to care, Seeing that it is plain enough He's got a double fare. Oh, help— help— help! Stop him !— stop the horse — stop the horse! We shall all be killed! Oh, my darling Juliana Seraphina, what a rash man I must be to go for to ire a shay to take yer to ' Ampton Court, vithout th' man not » varrintin' him not to be a wicious hanimal. Stop him— slop him ! Oh, Lor' deliver us! Deliver you ! I don't know what you think about the matter, but 1 should say that this is not only going by the post, but that it is a general delivery ! Cheneon enter the room, he determined in his own mind to put it to the proof. Howbeit, knowing Mr. Antoiue Fiorveau Cheneon's constitutional irascibility, and un- willing to wound his feelings before the English genllemcn present, he addressed hirn in French, viz " Monsieur— voulez vous— dowier moi— mori teetet demi• ecu, monsieur ?" To which civil interrogation— put with all the good hu- mour in the world— Mr, Antoine Fiorveau Cheneon in- stantly replied, " Ahah ! Sucre .' vat ? you want to ' front me! "— and seizing a heavy cue from a bagatelle board on the table, he grasped it iu both hands, and, before the company could interfere, he gave Mr. Isaac Jacobs a " thundering thwack" on the bare head, which shivered his tobacco- pipe into a thousand pieces, and laid him prostrate among the spittoons '. For this outrageous and totally unanticipated attack, Mr. Isaac Jacobs now sought redress from the laws of that country iu which he has the houour of sojourning. BOW- STREET. Two gentlemen of pretty considerable respectability- one tall, and the other short— were charged with having assaulted the police; and no fewer than five " Peelers" appeared, to testily against them. Patrick Finnagen was the first in order. He said he found the two gentlemen at the door of an oyster- shop iu James street, Covent garden, between one and two o'clock in th- ; r... ruing, kicking up a great row with a hackuey- coacli aud two ladies He told them to go home lo bed, and not be making such a bother as all that, when the short one laid hold of his staff, and tried to twist it out of his hand, whereupon he sprung his rattle for assist- ance, & c. John Roberts was the next. He was a smart, upright, Corporal 7Vf/ U- like sort of a Peeler, and his discourse was somewhat" stuffed with epithets of war." He heard the rattle call of his comrade, and advanced to his relief— he made his approaches with caution in order to recon noicre the partv— having so done, he challenged the of- fenders in surrender, and received the point- blank charge of a fist iu his belly— saving his worship's presence. " What are you ?" asked the magistrate, struck by the novelty of his phraseology. " I have been a soldier, your honour," he replied ; " hut since I was discharged from the army, I have en- deavoured to fulfil the part of a cobbler." Michael O'Neil, a six- foot Emerald Islander, wilh an astonishing perpendicular expansion of countenance, was the third in order. He heard the hubbaboo as he was pacenhly walking his bate, aud went, right on end, to lam the rights of it; and the biggest of the two— without say- ing " by yer lave,"— took him a mighty dacent stroke over the jaws. Two other policemen followed ; hut, as they said, they only came in at the tail of the row, and therefore they did not see the beginning of it. However, they bore tes- timony to the extreme repugnance ol Ihe gentlemen to go to the station house. The gentlemen were now called upon for their defence, and the short one undertook the task of making it. It appeared that he and his tall friend were out so late be cause they were eating oysters, consequently the oysters were solely to blame, as far as late hours were concerned. Then, as thev were coming out of ihe oyster- shop, they found two ladies, who also had been up stairs eating ovs ters. sitting In a hackney coach at the door. There was nothing extraordinary iu this; but somehow or other the coachniau had got it into his head that these two unlucky gentlemen had ordered the coach for the use of ihe ladies, then comfortably sitting therein, and of course he looked to them for the fare. The ladies themselves encouraged the coachman in this iniquitous idea," and seemed to enjoy it very much ; but our oyster- eaters were not to be had in this way. They re- sisted the " abominable de- mand," the coachman persisted, the ladies laughed, the police came up, and ihe oyster- eaters were hauled off lo durance, most unjustly. As to the blow on the belly, the • dacent stroke ou the jaws, & c., they denied all that sort of lliing in toto. They were nevertheless held to bail for their appearance at the sessions ; and, doubtless, should they ever be taken with an oyster fit again, they will try to get it over earlier. MARYLEBONE. Messrs. Barnaby Lankee ( a very tall gentleman), Job I Robson ( a very short one); aud John William Hunt ( nei- a tlier tall nor short, but, as it were, between both), and a I bamboo cane, almost as long and large as a little scaffold- t pole, were brought before the magistrate, charged with I: dreadful doings among the raw lobsters. s It appeared by the statements pro and con, that the pri- a soners are very respectable people, and that on Thursday 1 night they went to sup with au unquestionably highly re- ' spectahle tradesman in East- s'reet. This supper was t given ou the occasion of bis brother, who is a captain in c the navy, having returned from a long and perilous voyage: I and, of course, on such au extraordinary occasion, they ' drank deeper than ordinary. It is really surprising what I a quantity of thirsty sentiments an occasion of this kind i gives rise to. At. last the tall gentleman— or, as some of « the policemen called him, " ihe long one"— was found < stretched oui at his iengih on the pavement before the . door, completely done up. It was a blue devil who found ' him, and a very honest blue devil too, as times go ; but whilst he was endeavouring to gather him up, the short gentleman came behind and floored poor Peeler himself, with the greal bamboo, above- mentioned. He was soon up again, however— though, as he said, he never was floored by such a queer thing in his life before, nor hall so clnneltj. Once on his legs again, round went Ins rattle, and in half- a- dozen seconds up came half- a- dozen of his brethren. The short gentleman with his bamboo, seeing this, laid about him lustily— ribs, canisters, or lanterns, ii was all one to him. But " who can control his fate ?" or what can one single arm do against a dozen ? He was bundled up, or enveloped as it were, in a posse of Peelers, all iu full tog, enough to smother up a Hercules ; and after some Ineffectual spruiuing he, and " the long one," and " ihe middle- sized one," and the great bamboo, were all safely lodged iu the station- house; where the long one, having shaken off his drunken slumbers, com- mitted divers outrageous assaults upon Ihe night constable aud his men, as tliry were putting them down into the cellars. In their defence before the magistrate, they admitted tlii' drunkenness, but denied lire violence ; and begged his worship to believe that it was " eutiuly a case of simple intoxication." The. magistrate ordered the long one to find bail upon four dis.' iuct assaults; the short one to find bail upon two distinct assaults. and ihe middle- sized one was discharged on payment of his fees. QUEEN SQUARE. This was a proceeding, by warrant, for au assault and battery, aiising out ot the nou seftleiiuTit of a debt ot honour. Mr. Isaac Jacobs, the complainant, is of the children of Israel;. a fat, round man, of a pleasant countenance, and addicted to luxuriating in browa stout and a pipe, in the little back parlour at Ihe Cannon Tavein— a com- fortable public- bouse, somewhere in Chelsea, ' fhe de- fendant, Mr. Antoine Florvesu Cheneon, is a native of Switzerland; tall, gaunt, and elderly, with a nice sense of houour, " sudden and quick in quarrel," and, withal, in ihe practice of sometimes taking a half- gill of old sherry In a goblet of pure spring water, at tiie Cannon Tavern aforesaid. He appeared before the magistrate with a large black silk handkerchief bound round his head, so as to cover one of his eyes. On the day named iu the warrant, it being between four and five o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Isaac Jacobs was in the little back parlour at the tavern aforesaid, lux- uriating as aforesaid, and several oilier gentlemen, then " and there assembled, were luxuriatiug in like manner, when the dour opened, and in stalked Mr. Antoiue Fior- veau Cheneon ; who, having stated himself, rang the bell and ordered his sherry and water as usual. Now it so happened that Mr. Autoine Fiorveau Cheneou was in- debted to Mr. Isaac Jacobs in the sum of two shillings and sixpence; and, moreover, the said debt had beeu standing almost time immemorial, so that Mr. Isaac Jacobs was weary of waiting for it; and, as it was a " debt of honour," he began to entertain doubts that Mr. Antoine Fiorveau Cheneon meant to avail himself of that circumstance, aud forget to pay it. He did not presume to say that such was the case, but he entertained that opinion ; and the inouieut he saw Mr. Antoine Florveau 1 he life of Mister, the person charged with attempting the life of Mr. Mackreth at Ludlow, has been from au early age one of vindictiVeness and crime. At a very early age he, from a spirit of revenge, sowed tares over the garden of a gentleman whose house adjoined his father's, and so well did he manage the act that no suspicion arose till the ground was covered with the sprouting weeds. When a youth, he broke open a box belonging to his father, from which he stole a quantity of half- crowns, aud ab- sconded with a notorious thief, named Griffiths, who was afterwards tried for stabbing a man in a house of ill- fame, aud was transported for life. Griffiths was a person of very cruel disposition, and had stabbed a police sergeant on another occasion at Leo- minster. Young Mister was sent to sea by his father when he was brought back after the robbery, aud was afloat about two years and a half. On his return from India he commenced his former dishonest practices, and his father took liini lo Liverpool, and paid his passage for another voyage, giving him money and a fit- out ; but he absconded from the ship, although he ultimately went to sea for eight or nine months more. On his return from this last voyage he went into the service of a spirit- dealer at Liverpool, whom he robbed to a large amount, and then absconded. At his father's death he game into possession of a sum of money, and when it was spent he went into the service oi Mr. Godson, who kept a gin- shop in the Bullring, Birmingham, as barman. About THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE TARDYF THE POISONER. | During ( he continuance of ( his struggle, Captain According to ( he annals of courts of justice, it ap- Bn? htman rushed on deck, and received a blow from Dears that two classes of offenders are brought to trial Fel « which laid hlm P ™ strate. The Irish passenger for their misdeeds, namely, those who commit crime from necessity or some unfortunate combination of cir- cumstances, and those who are naturally or habitually so depraved in disposition, that no moral restraint has the power of preveiKing their commission of the most • dreadful atrocities. To this latter class Jje'onged Alexander Tardy, one of the most consummate vil- lains whom the world ever produced, end whose career in crime may be reajl as a warning by ( hose who have the power of suppressing vicious propensities hi youth, while ihey are susceptible of modification. Tardy was a native of the island of St. Domingo, and accompanied his father, who was of French extraction, to ( be United States, where he sought refuge after the revolution of that island. It does not appear that he received anything like a good education, and it is men- tioned that in youth he displayed an untamed restless disposition. He was put lo a mercantile business in Philadelphia, but in this he ultimately failed, and went to serve as steward on board a vessel. From Ibis em- ploymrnl he was discharged in 1813, undor Ihe dark suspicion of having poisoned the captain. He now went to Boston, and got a knowledge of the business ofa dentist from a German practhioner. After litis he committed a number of thefts, and having tied, while on board a vessel bound for Charleston, he poisoned some of the passengers, and had the audacity to charge the crime on the cook, a black man, who was tried and executed, although protesting his innocence to ( he last. On his return to Philadelphia, he practised the same horrid crime, by infusing arsenic iu the food of the passengers! but this time he did not altogether escape punishment, being seized and condemned lo seven years' hard labour in one of the penitentiaries. From this state of confinement he was at length liberated, and for some years lived in the commission of almost every species of offence. He possessed the most un- bounded confidence in his resources, and viewed man- kind with the utmost contempt. He never hesitated for a moment to perpetrate a crime, even where there was a danger ot being detected. In his creed, he seems to have proscribed the whole human race. Perjury, poison, and poinards, were his instruments, and he wielded all with equal dexterity ; but hie chief engine of destruction was poison, which he never scrupled to use, and that in the most dexterous manner. In per- sonal appearance, Tardy was a plain neat man, ofa dark complexion, and with a grave countenance, which, it is said, was never disturbed, either by a smile oi a laugh. He spoke several languages with lluencv, which was an accomplishment that gave him only greater scope for the performance of his designs. Finding that his character was too well known in the United States, he formed ( he plan of doing some- thing in lire way of slave- dealer, or pirate in Ihe West Indies, and wilh such a view made his appearance, in 182?, at Havannah, in Ihe island of Cuba. Here, while in the course of maturing his plans, he prelended to practise as a dentist and physician, in order to lull sus< picion as to his real character. After spending some time in Havannah, he settled upon a plan, which, if executed with discretion and energy, promised, as he thought, to yield a rich reward for his ingenuity. This was nothing less than murdering the whole crew and passengers of a vessel, and then making the ship his own, with all its valuable cargo. Such a diabolical scheme, however, could not be executed without ac complices, and these he found in the persons of Fslix, Pepe, and Courro, three Spaniards, of loose character, who had been accustomed lo scenes of dissipation ami crime. The vessel which was pitched upon by this band of wretches, was ( he American brig Crawford, commanded by Captain Brightman, at the time loading with molasses, coffee, and sugar, and about In sail for Mew York. This selection, it seems, was not without a sufficient reason. The Ctawford was a new vessel, and a slight indisposition of ( he captain led Tardy to expect that he might, in his professional character of doctor, gain his confidence, which would greatly faci- litate the execution oi his scheme. The mode of ope- ration was now arranged. It was agreed that Courro should go on board in the capacity of Tardy's servant, and that Felix and Pepe should go as cabin passengers, passing for merchants going to New York to ouy a vessel to be employed in the African trade i and to render this s( ory probable, a box was procured, filled wilb iron and lead, which was ( o be represented ns con- taining seventeen thousand dollars in gold. In the meanwhile, by means of a discharged clerk of the cus- tom- house, a set of false papers was procured, to ex- hibit after the vessel had been mastered. After some delay in loading and taking on board a number of passengers, the good brig Crawford cleared out for sea on the 28th of May, 1827. When it set sail, it was manned by Ihe following crew :— Ed- mund Dobson, mate; Joseph Dolliver, Asa Bicknell, Oliver Potter, and Nathaniel Deane, Seamen; and Stephen Gibbs, a coloured man who acted as cook. Be- sides Brightman, Ihe captain, there were also on board, as passengers, Tardy, Felix, Pepe, and Courro; like- wise Ferdinand Ginoulhiac, who was also a Spaniard, but not belonging to Tardy's band ; an Irishman, and an American carpenter, whose names were not known ; and Mr. Norman Robinson, who was part owner of the cargo— making altogether fifteen individuals, We shall now describe how the plot was gradually de- veloped and brought to a crisis; aud in doing so, use the affecting account afterwards given by Dobson, the mate, who, along wilh Ginoulhiac, and Gibbs, ( he cook, alone survived to tell the horiid tale. " The brig ( says Dobson) proceeded on the voyage with variable winds, but with every prospect of mak- ing a fair passage. One morning, after the vessel had been at sea for a few days, the wind being light, and the weather fair, I sat down to breakfast on deck wilh Tardy and the other cabin passengers. Captain Bright- man was still indisposed, and confined to his berth. During breakfast, Tardy acted as master of Ihe cere- monies, and helped me to bacon, fried eggs, and a bowl of chocolate— all which politeness, of course, excited no suspicion. Soon after breakfast, t descended to the cabin for the purpose of taking some repose, having been engaged all night on duty ; but 1 had hardly lain down for a minute, when I was attacked with a violent headache, throbbing about the temples, and sickness of the stomach. Unable to make out Ihe cau> e of this sudden illness, 1 sent for Tardy, who, having felt my pulse, and inquired into Ihe symploms of ( he disease, declared ( ha( ( here was bile on ( he stomach, and re- commended an emetic. Mr. Robinson having over- heard this prescription, dissuaded me from taking any medicine whatever, and recommended repose. I there- fore hud my matlrass removed ( o ( he open ajr on ( lie deck, where 1 lay until eiglu o'clock in the evening, by which time ( he vomiting had ceased, and J fell a good deal relieved. During the day 1 had a conversa- tion wilh Mr. Robinson, who communicated his fear that an attempt had been made by the Spaniards to poison them, as ( he whole crew seemed ( o be sick, and who proposed, that to guard against any tiling of ( his kind in future, tliiir own cook should prepaie food for the cook and other passengers, while Courro, who acted as the servant of Felix and Tardy, might act as cook for the Spaniards. Nothing, however, was settled upon definitely, and, as the vessel was going safely in her course, I lay down for ( he night, but with orders to be waked if the breeze should spring up. 1 had slept, I think, about an hour and a half, when I wa: waked by dreadful shrieks proceeding from all parts of the vessel. Starting up wilh the apprehension that we were boarded by pirates, I ran forward to the forecastle, and there a horrid scene of i- laughler met my sight. I learned that Courro was the first to wake » ud perceiving that the time was come for action he called up Tardy and the Spaniards. Tardy then cut the throat of Dolliver, and gave the signal, when the Spaniards set up dreadful cries, which roused every Iiody ; and as any one came up, either from ihe cabin or forecastle he was immediately stabbed. The Ame- rican carpenter was the first to make his way from the cabin, and was stabbed by Pepe, but the blow not proving mortal a struggle ensued, which lasted for a short lime, when he fell, and was dispatched by an axe. met the same fate, and Robinson was supposed to have thrown himself from the cabin windows into the ocean, upon seeing the death of the Irishman. Courro was equally successful at the forecastle, and stabbed suc- cessively Potter, Gibbs, and Bicknell; Deane, who slept on deck, was not discovered in the darkness, and thew himself overboard withou( being wounded. When in the water, he entreated that a barrel, plank, or oar, Or something, might be thrown out ( o support him, as he was ready to sink, and these entreaties were se- conded by Mr. Robinson, but all in vain , and they both doubtless soou sank to rise no more. [ Gibbs, the black cook, who had been woitnded, and Mr. Ginoul- hiac, were spared ; why the latter were not put to death, is hot well explained in thn evidence.] In the meantime, being wounded, I had made the best of my way to the rigging, which had not escaped the notice of Tardy, who called out in a loud voice for me to descend, which I refused to do, but upon re- peated assurances that if I came down my life would be spared, I at lecgfh ventured down upon the deck, and was immediately surrounded by Tardy and his com- panions. Tardy now began to question me about ( he box which Eelix had brought aboard, and what had become of i(. 1 replied, ( hal 1 had seen ( ha box, and put it in ihe cap( ain's state- room, but could not tell what had become of it, if it were no longer there. Tardy then explained that the Spaniards had applied lo Ihe captain for ( he box, and upon his refusal to give il up, they had resolved, instead ofgoingtothe United States to seek a precftrious redress from the laws, to take the law into ( heir own hands, and had accordingly killed Ihe cap( ain, aud taken possession of ( he vessel; ( hat as ( he deed was now done, it would be useless to go to the United Slates, and they had determined to sail for Europe; and that, if I would assist them, ( hey would not only save my life, but 1 should be well paid for my services when the cargo was disposed of. Of course, this plausible story of Tardy s was a mere fabrication, in order lo excuse the murderers and the seizure of the vessel ; but, as 1 was not in a condition to dispute ( he accuracy of the statement, I offered no objections to it, and consented to do that which was requested of me, whereupon I obtained permission to lie down on my mattrass to take some repose. In the course of ( he morning, af( er the work of destruction had been completed, the Spaniards set up loud cries of exultation, and, intoxicated with their success, walked about the deck, which, as well as the sails and rigging, was every where dyed with blood, and they occasion- ally resorled ( o a bottle of liquor placed on the hen- coop. They were not, however, so far gone as to neg lect ihe clearing away of all traces of the murders. They washed ( lie deck and rigging, and painted the sails ( o conceal the blood with which they were stained. During the day, all the papers belonging to the brij were lorn up and ihrown overboard, and all the chest: and trunks which had belonged to the passengers and crew were ransacked for pi under. The American flag was also destroyed, and materials were produced for making a Spanish flag, which Mr. Ginoulhiac was re- quired to put together. Tardy, who was now in command, informed me ( hat he intended ( o proceed ( o Hamburg, and ihat he was provided with papers for such a voyage , but that be- fore sailing for Europe; he wished to put into some pin- to procure fresh provisions, and ship a crew, as the Spaniards were no sailors. At his request, 1 informed him how to steer for St. Mary's. An effort was now made to reach ibis port, but contrary winds prevented a landing; and after cruising about for a couple of days, I proposed to carry the vessel either into Savan nali or Charleston. Tardy, however, objected to these places, where lie said he was known, and he did not care far being seen. It was finally resolved to go Norfolk, and the course was accordingly shaped fo the Capes of Virginia. Tardy proposed that ( hey should anchor in the Chesapeake, and remain there while he went fo Norfolk, and procured hands and pro visions. This 1 opposed, telling him that I was afraid of the Spaniards, who would probably take my life He did all in his power to remove these fears, by say- ing, that if they attempted my life, lie would sink both them and the vessel on his return. Circumstances for- tunately occured to prevent him from leaving the ves- sel, and my running any risk of being murdered. 0 artiving at the bay of Norfolk, pilot boats began, as usual, to make lheirappearance, a matter which cjiscon certed him not a little. As one pilot after another came up and offered his services, Taidy declined their offers, declaring the vessel was bound for Hamburg, and ( hat he was well acquainted wilh the bay. I now pointed out the danger of his refusing lo take a pilot that the refusal might excite suspicion, especially as ihe name of ihe vessel was not on the stern, and these representations induced him to allow a pilot to come on board." This was a fatal, though an unavoidable step, and paved the way for tfie discovery of the piracy and mar der. Having come to aricher by the guidance of th< pilot, at about a hunibed yards from the shore, Taidy again mentioned his intention to go on shore to get hands and provisions, making ? trong promises lo Dob- son to leward him for his fidelity, and to bring him any- thing he wanted from Norfolk. But Dobson had al- ready formed a plan to escape from this band of wretches. He had the address to persuade Tardy to allow him ( o prepare ( he boat for his going ashore ; and geKing possession of an oar, while the Spaniards were aloft furling the sails, he at once sculled away from Ihe vessel, and, to the consternation of Tardy, got safely to land. On touching the shore, he made ( he best ef his way to Foriess Munroe, and gave information to Ihe officers of the characler of the vessel, and the dread- ful transactions of which it had been the scene. A boat was forthwith fitted out wilh an officer and men lo visit Ihe ship, and seize Tardy and his companions. In the inlerim, the wretched Tardy foresaw Ihe ter- mination which w as speedily to take place to his mur- derous career. He saw Ihe vengeance of the law about lo fall upon him, and he hastened to elude his fate. Proceeding lo the cabin, and seating himself upon a box of dollars, the accumulation of his plunder, he put ail end to his existence by cutting his throat. The Spa iards had not ihe same clear perce pi ion of the nature of ( heir doom, and suffered themselves lo be seized and carried on shore ( o prison. The ship was now taken charge of by ihe official authorities; the remaining persons op board, namely, Mr. Ginoulhiac and the cook, being a( the same time removed, and kept along with Dobson, as witnesses on the trial of the Spanish sailors. The trial took place befoio Chief Justice Marshall, at Richmond, Virginia, on the 16ih of July, 1827, and the evidence of the guilt of the prisoners was so clear, that they were condemned to death, and were executed a month afierwards. As soon as the tale of horror which we have narrated became generally known, a very considerable degree of interest was manifested with regard to the configura lion of ( he head of the principal actor, Taidy; and his skull was ( herefore made ihe object of measurement and analysis, in order to see if it corresponded with the principles laid down by Phrenology. For the special results of these examinations, we must refer to the Stii volume of ihe Edinburgh Journal; it is sufficient for us here to stale, Ihat the skull of Tardy was found to be low in front, showing a deficiency of moral and intel- lectual faculties and a large preponderance behind proving a predominance of the . destructive and gro- velling propensities of our nature. Possibly these might have been modified by early culture, along with the inculcation of moral and religious sentiments; as it was, the whole career of the man oilers one of the most striking instances in modern times of a human being devoting himself under every circumstance of life to the destruction of his fellow- creatures. TO CORRESPONDENTS. The Proprietors of " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIM gs,* have the pleasure to announce to their numerous readers, that they have succeeded in making arrangements tilth the po- pular Juthor of " ELA, THE OUTCAST; OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL," " ANGELINA," " GALLANT TOM,'' & C„ & c., for the production of another Original Romance, of a peculiar construction, striking incidents, hair- breadth escapes, and startling effects, of the first appearance of which, due notice wilt be given. Two ofthe answers sent by T. E. E., we cannot avail our- selves of. The Charade shall appear. IVe intend to devote a column to the Charades and an- swers, in each number, but those limits we cannot ex- ceed. We wilt give insertion lo the Ballad by HENRY O'BKIEN, All letters for THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, should be addressed to the Editor, and not to the Publisher. Unfortunately No. 20, is out of print, or we should have felt great ' pleasure in complying with MB. DILLON'S request. . . E. P., and J. C, arrived loo late. HANNAH WOOD will perceive that we have already inserted solutions lo Ihe Riddles. What has become of all our writers in prose I THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL." " ALEXANDER," T. W.. C. W. WHITE, " HAMLET'S SOLILOQUV IMITATED," E. E ( Manchester,) H. M. M g, and " DENNISON," ( Bristol,) are received wifh. thapks. HOOKEY VVAI. KI. K," arrived too late. ... S .— We cannot say. CAROLINE — We should be happy to receive the communi- cations you mention. H> e hope to hear again from T. BROWN, ( South Shields.) and J. K., ( Newcastle,) but unfortunately cannot avail ourselves of their last favours, in consequence of our having previously published solutions to the same Charade. Wc regret that we could not make use of MR. LAMBE'S answer to the Charade, as we had inserted one before. The song he will find in Ihe present number. * K* All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 30, Curtain road, Shoreditch. THE PENNY PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. This publication has obtained for itself a proud position in the list of cheap periodical literatuie, which it has acquired by its unremitting attention to the instruction as well as the amusement ot the public. We assert Ihis not from any motives of egotism, bul merely to shew ihat success is sure to atier. d those whose endeavours are to improve the morals of ( heir fellow creatures. This has been our aim from the first, and we have been careful to place our strictures in the most pleasing garb, and to blend at all times interest with instruction, so lhal the reader would seize upon it wilh avidity. Much good maybe effected in awoik of this description if properly managed, but when ( lie leaders are appro- priated to long- winded articles upon subjects that no person can understand, and which the Editor himself would like much to be able to comprehend, they become " Slale, flat, and unprofitable." We have always been particularly careful not to devote the smallest portion of our paper to matter wliich was not of sterling merit, and which could no( be turned to the account of the reader in some way or the olher, and we have also en- deavoured to make the contents as varied as possible. That we have succeeded our immense sale sufficiently proves, and satisfies us also that we have adopted the right course. That course we shall continue lo pursue, nd we are confident that while we do so the public will go with us As a companion to the extracts from the old Portfolio of the Editor, he ( his week offers to his numerous readers a few delached thoughts and laconics, from the brightest geniuses this country has produced, which he will from lime to time continue, and which, he has not Ihe least doubt, will prove highly acceptable. When delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of ihe ele- ments, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause fora lover's apprehension. Let your courage be as keen, but at ( he same time as polished as your sword. There is a chilling air around poverly, tha( often kills affection, that was not nursed in it. If we would make love our household god, we had best secure him a comfortable roof. You should never beslow pity on those who take pains for your contempt; pity those whom nature abuses, not those who abuse nature. Men seldom think deeply on subjects on which they have no choice of opinion ; they are fearful of encoun- tering obstacles to their failli ( as in religion), aud so are content with the surface. While hope pictures to us a flattering scene of future bliss, let us deny its pencil those colouts which are too bright to be lasting.— When hearts deserving hap- piness would unite their fortunes, Virtue would crown them with an unfading gatland of modest, liurtless, flowers; bul ill- judging passion will force ( he gaudier rose into the wreath, whose thorn offends ( hem, when its leaves are dropped. The loss of die breath from a beloved object, long suffering in pain and certainty ( o die, is not so great a privation as ( he last loss of her beautiful remains, if they remain so. The viclory of ( lie grave is sharper than the sting of death. No passion suffers more lhan malice from disappoint- ment. What can be more distressing than to be drawn into acts of deception by the force of circumstances— to be obliged to conceal the truth I The true philosophic character is composed of a love of truth, scepticism, benevolence of heart, firmness of purpose, mental courage, and a constant inclination to ascend to first principles. There are incidents occurring in the life of true senti- ment too sacred to be drawn with levity, from the deep recesses of his own heart. The man of the greatest abilities and of the most versatile talents, must be excused for many defects and numerous slips in conduct. Our dearest companions are our best friends. Why should it not be so i For lie who participates in our most secret sympathies, should of right iningle in our gayest pleasures. The pleasantest companion is the man of great experience, and consequently of great liberality of sentiment, with a talent for conversation and a sweet demeanour. Complimeu( s are elegant refinements upon truth. The lawyer thinks the noblest principle is involved where the principal sum at stake is largest. We can never think df poets as old men. Every thing connected with them is imbued wilh Ihe charm of immortal youth and perpetual spring. * Truth is tike medicine : we can take neither without something sweet to remove its unpleasant taste. The malice of our enemies often conduces to our own benefit and to their harm. THE LIFE OF A PLAYER. Mr. assured me that for more than a year, his weekly salary never exceeded ten shillings; and, one day, after dinner, he gave me his entire history, part of which is well engraved upon tny memory. " I had been for some time performing in a village near Leeds," said he ; but our company having got into debt, we broke up, and each of its members set < « ut iti search of au eneage- meiu elsewhere. When I had paid off ihe few shillings which I owed, I remained ill possession of something under a pound. With this poor stock of cash, and sonic linen in a bundle, I left the scene of our late unsuccessful labours for York, resolved to lav aside all the ambition which I had felt to become a respectable aCtoC, and to offer my service's as ' property- man' in one of the large theatres of the county. Full of hope, I reached York, where I was kept for four days in suspense. Finding, ou the fourth day, that tbeie was no prospect of inv being em ployed, and my little fund having sensibly diminished, 1 started again ; and, as my expectift'on of iditaining regu- lar employment in a large theatre had been much wea- kened, applied to the manager of ihe theatre in every town and village through which I pas- ed, and in Which a com- pany was performing. In this way 1 travelled a whole mouth, aud over a distance of at least four hundred miles. I could not obtain an engagement ofany kind, and but ioi tlie kindness of the performers in some of the places which I visited, must have starved. This, however, had not been sufficient to prevent the dissipation of my little fund, and, article after article, all my humble stock of ljnen disappeared. 1 had sold my1 last shirt for two shil- lings, of which only one penny remained when I left , at six o'clock in the morning, to try my luck at a town thirty miles distant. As I went by a baker's shop, I pur- chased a penny roll, and. when I had walked a few miles, soaked it iu a stream, aud made it at once my breakfast and my dinner,— for no other food was I likely to obtain tliat day. I reached my place of destination at six o'clock in the evening, and on enquiring for Ihe tin atre, was told that it was shut up, the company having quitted the town two days previously. What now was to lie done ? I had neither a home to go to, nor money to pay for one ; yet 1 could not lie in the street, ( inquired, therefore, for a lodging- house, and was referred to one which was the place of workmen and others on the tramp. It was small house, little better than a hovel ; hut the landlady appeared to be a good creature of her class, and I learned, to my great satisfaction, that she had no other lodgers that night,— for, although it is truly said that misery finds strange bed- fellows, yet in all my misery, I had never before been driven to the necessity of herding with com- mon tramps. 1 told the landlady that 1 wished for a bed, and to know the price of it. She replied, fourpence. I said, I had not fourpence; but t| ie neckcloth which I wore was worth at least double that amount, and that I would give it to her instead of money. ' Sit down, young mail,' said the old lady,' and 1 dare say we shall not dis- agree.' It was one of those biting days of December which make au Englishman feel all the comforts of the fireside; and although 1 was not in an hotel, wilh a car- peted room and an obedient waiter, I saw before me a fire equal to any which could have been commanded by a lord. The warmth cheered me, and made me forget mv hunger, until I saw the landlady open a cupboard, and take out two cups and saucers, and the other articles of that domestic meal ofthe Englishman, tea. ' lam ex- pecting my sou,' said my landlady, ' and he likes to find LOOSE READINGS.— A literary lady expressed to Dr. Johnson her approbation of his Dictionary, and in par- ticular her satisfaction at Itis not admitting into it any improper words. " No, madam," replied he. " I hope I have nol soiled my fingers. I find, however, that you have been looking for them." Too GOOD TO BE LOST.— We find the following creamy narration gravely published in the southern cor- respondence of the Greenfield ( Massachusetts) Courier, as a specimen of northern treatment of blacks :— A gentleman reclining upon his sofa one warm summer's day, called his waiter to bring him a handkerchief, The order was instantly obeyed—" Hold it to my nose," was a further demand. The servant did so After holding it there for a minute or two, ( he spraw- ling gentleman sprang lo the flop, and put a swiftly- toe — five toes—( whether round or square toed 1 don't know,) which sent him headlong, at the same time re marking, " You d— d rascal, you know what I wanted — why didn't you blom ?" every thing ready wiien he comes home. He is a - car- penter, and is gone to day to a place six miles off, to do some work at ihe parsonage- house.' In less than ten minutes, the son, a fine youth of twenty- two or twenty- three years of age, returned, and took bis seat by the fire. As I sat opposite to him, and saw the kind looks which passed between him aud bis nidi her, I i bought of what had been iny lot; for, before I became a wanderer, I had a kind, good mother, and a happy, liappy home. Alas, I had lost them both ! As soon as'tlie son was sealed, the old lady took two enormous tea- cakes from her cupboard, and began toasting them. This was too much. The kettle was chauntuig forth its delightful music; its stream was pouring forth its cheering volumes— cheering, indeed, to those only who know that it is the prelude of the cup which cheers but not inebriates. Iu a few minutes the cakes were buttered, and Ihe mother and soil had drawn their chairs to the table. In spite of myself, a tear rolled down my cheek. The old lady saw it. Oh woman, woman, what an angel can you be, wheu your heart has not been pervened by the cruel commerce of the world ! In an instant, auother cup and saucer were placed upon the table, and another huge cake was produced. Oh, how my eyes glistened, and watered, and my heart beat, when I saw these preparations ! Aud yet, could it be for me ? could ihis poor woman, earning her subsistence by letting out beds at fourpence per night, and toiling hard during the day, have felt foi the wanderer a piiy which the wealthy and the luxurious had denied ? My doubt was not of long duration. The third cake was buttered, and the tea was poured into ihe third cup. I watched the door anxiously : I listened attentively, to ascertain if any third party was descending the stairs; but ihe door moved not, and the stairs creaked not; and in a voice which, although it proceeded from a fat dame of fifty, was sweeter to me than the dulcet tones of Siddons or O'Neil, the landlady said," Come, young man, draw your chair to the table, aud do not let your tea get cold,' ' Oh, ma'am,' said 1,' you are very kind, but I cannot take any." ' Not take any ! and why not, I should like to know?' ' Because I have no money.' ' Young man, young man !' said she,' do as I bid you. I am a mother, and should think it hard, if my poor boy, after a hard day's walk, and with no money in his pocket, could find no Christian friend to give hira a cake and a cup of tea If 1 am poor, thank God, I am not so poor but that I can do to others as I wish them to do to me." Was not this Christianity, my friend ? Would that the world were peopled l,_ v such Christians in feeling as ibis good woman ! I would not care what they were called— Turks, Jews, or even idolaters. We have professing Christians enough; but how few are there who divide their loaf with tlie suf- fering poor! Twenty years have elapsed since this scene occurred. I have, as you know, been fortunate! I have had all that man could desire, all that ambition such as mine could wish ; but at no time have I forgotten the tea and cake ofthe good woman of ; and never since that day have I had emotion so strong, or sensation so ex- quisite, as when I travelled forty miles out of my way, and in my own carriage, to visit my kind Samaritan, and force into her hand the whole proceeds of my engagement of the preceding night. Whilst we were at tea, the son sud- denly exclaimed, ' I say, mother, the players that lett here are at , and plaved last night. The playhouse was crammed ; and to- night they act Othello. Everybody is going to the play.' Players, and success! Did 1 hear aright? I made inquiries of the youth, and he repealed what he had said. 1 was elated, and yet why ? Was il probable that 1 should be more fortunate here than I had been elsewhere ? My reason could not say yes; but some- thing told ine, in spite of my reason, that the next day- was to be the glorious springtide of my life. I rose the next morning at seven, and found breakfast prepared for me. In vain did I di clare that I would not accept it, and that the handkerchief which I was to leave was barely of value, even it sold at the highest price, to repay what I had received. The good woman was positive; and, hav- ing breakfasted, I presented my handkeichief. ' Keep it, young m m, ^ nd may an old woman's blessing go with you. I seeyon ar£ ef a different stamp from the people I usually lodge, and something tells me I shall never tie poorer for my kindness to you. Her mai lur was positive— so posi- tive, ibat 1 could not attempt to resist it What, do you think I did ? Only an acior, you will say, could have done it. But it was not acting ; my heal t was bursting— I fell upou her neck, and kissed her. I again thought of my own mother, and all tlie desolation arose to my mind. IN less than two hours, I reached the little town, or rather village, in which this fortunate company were performing, and was told at the barn, against which a large board with the word THEATRE was placed, ihat the manager was gone to call upon a magistrate, at his seat, a mils or two distant, that he would return shortly. He did not return for several hours, as the great man had probably kept him wailing a longtime for an audieuce. A strolling actor must not disturb a country magistrate in the process of his digestion ; be may, in such case, run the risk of receiving a committal instead of a bespeak ! At one o'clock, 1 was still at the theatre, when the great man of my hopes— for at that moment he was an emperor in my eyes— made his appearance; but he told me briefly, and as I then thought roughly, ( hat he was going lo dinner, and, if I had any thing to say to him, I must go to the Bull imi, at two o'clock, or even later. For form sake, I waited until half- past two, when I hastened to the Bull, and found the manager smoking his pipe, and drinking brandy- aud- water, with bis principal tragedian and chief comic performer, and three or tour of the tradesmen of the place, with whom he had already become a great fa- vourite. Brandy- and- water is a rare thing with even a strolling manager; but what were my ideas of the busi- ness the Company were doing, when I saw two of his per" formers revelling in the same luxury ? ' This must be a sharing concern,' said I, ' and a good one.' ' Sit down,' said tlie manager. ' and tell me what yon want.' I did so, and rather more modestly, perhaps, than my desolate situation would have warranted, stated my desires and my qualifications. Tile manager beard ine very good- na- turedly, but damped iny hopes at once with—' Young man— still young man.— we have no room for you. But come,' added be, M dare say you will have no objection- to a good bit of beef. Landlord, send iu the beef again, and a hot potatoe, aud a quart of your best ale. IVe must not allow a distressed brother to maicli away upon an empty ' stomach.' When 1 had fared gloriously upon the beef, and taken my ate, the manager called lor a glass of brandy- and- water and a pipe, which he placed before me. Plus was cheering and pleasant enough, but it was not an engagement. An hour having passed away in conversa- tion, during which 1 learned that, the company had, on the first niiht of their performance, received the enor- mous sum of 271. 8s.— boxes, pit, and gallery, being crowded to suffocation ; it being, in fact, what, the London managers call an overflowing house; and that they had three bespeaks on hand, which they estimated at 251. each.— I rose lo lake my leave, but without knowing how I was to shape mycouise, or where I was to sle » p, for not a farthing remained in my pocket. Hope I had no longer ; the angel had taken its flight, and llie demon of despair had usurped its place. Butma'k how little we are justified in allowing the demon to assume au empire over us when we are most down. As 1 rose from my chair, the manager, who was Mr. G •, many years a performer in Loudon, said to liis principal tragedian, a pompous gentleman ill a black brown coat, ' Borneo, undo thy purse strings, and let thy gold flow forth. The youth is penniless, auu the winter- storm invites not to journey without the means of bribing hard faced land- lords to provide the traveller's home. I give five shillings. My earnings have been great, my Romeo, and charity fits like a jewelled crown upon the caput of the rich. Do thou thy two- and sixpence also give.' Thus appealed to, the Romeo and Richard of ihe nomade troop threw down his half- crown piece, and ( he head comedian fol- lowed his example. Thus was I rich again. The ma- nager squeezed my hand heartily, wished me good- bye and good luck ; and behold me again upon the world. Yet my heart was heavy, for I could not help thinking what a glorious chance I had lost. Haifa share in this happy sharing company would have been a prize to me, and where was I to expect to find auother sharing com- pany willing to accept my services, and so well able to re- munerate I he ill? I had left the little town more than half a mile behind me, when I heard a loud voice shouting, • Master Player, stop; manager has altered his mind.' The glad sound made me turn quickly, and accompany the lout who summoned me lo reinrn. To he brief, I had not left the worthy manager ten minutes, when the tra- gedian recommended that, as they were doing well, a half- share should be set aside from the receipts ofthe four or five principal performers and the manager, and ihat I should be installed as keeper of the wardrobe, property- man, and to go on for small parts. Six months did 1 re- main with this company. We strolled about from town town, and village to village, sometimes losing, sometimes gaining; but so successful, on the average, that my half- share produced for tlie time at tlie rate of fifteen shillings a week, and at the end of six mouths 1 had laid by 41. But this was not all. Towards ihe fifth month one of Ihe best actors of the company left il for au engagement at Canterbury, and I was allowed to try my skill in his cha- racters. 1 was eminently successful, and had ihe good fortune to attract the notice of a female London star, who gave me a recommendation to Ihe Glasgow theatre, at which I was soon engaged, by correspondence, at a salary of 21. per week. From this day, everything smiled upon me; and in less than two veais I made my debut in Lou- don, and was immediately afterwards engaged for three years, at 161., 181., and 201. a week. lam now a star myself, and, when 1 obtain leave of absence, can run into the country, and get iny thirty pounds a night."— Frazer's Magazine. A VISIT TO A DEBTOR'S PRISON. BY I. H M. It was on a Sunday afternoon, in the month of July, Ihat I first entered a debtor's prison. To see one of its unhappy inmates was ( he primary cause; but I also wished to view lha( of which- I had heard so much. It would be useless for me to a(( empt to describe each separate ward; but I ( rust a desciiplion of one of ( hem will no( be unaccep( able to ( he numerous readers of ihe SUNDAY TIMES. It is a large room, hanging on each side several small ( ables, wi( h forms to match, on which the deb- tor's sal. At the bo( tom of Ihe apartment is a large fire, summer and winter; near which the cook, himself a debtor, is standing. Over the mantle- piece tbe day of the month is chalked up, perhaps to console them by felling ihem that thoy have spent one more day in this wretched abode; and, consequently, have one less to live. At the ( op are some dozen diawers, placed there for the use of the prisoners, each having one. and some more. What wilh Ihe number of the inmates themselves, and those friends who are allowed to see them, together with ( lie funtes of ( obacco, and ( he ex- ( reme heat of ihe apartment, I, who only had to bear with it for an hour or so, felt it almost insupportable. What then must be Ihe feelings of those who have to pass a weary existence in it! Because they have not been blessed with riches, and were prevented from obtaining thai which would pay their debt, by being divested of their liberty. Some of ihetn were in the prime of life; others, who would have been so, had ihey not undergone a long imprisonment, were fast de- ca\ ing. There was one man there ( they told me for a debt of ^ 20,000) who seemed to treat it all as a joke j but he had been there but a few days, and will too soon find out his mistake. His young and handsome wife was leaning on his arm, imparting that consolation for whieh woman is so proverbial— telling him, per- haps, of future happiness, which he believed. His child was fondly throwing its little arms about his neck, unconscious of all except " jt's dear papa," as i( frequently termed him, Suffering my eye ® to wan- der, they feil on a poor man, quite the reverse of Ihe foimer. He was weak and sickly in appearance— his countenance being clouded Willi a deep melancholy. I asked who he was, and they told me that he had once moved in the first circles, but had been Ihe dupe of his companions, who, now Ihat he was reduced, had for- saken him. This, then, thought I, is all that remains of the once- man of fashion. He, loo, who had fed so many, to be obliged to subsist by ( he charity of a few of his more wealthy fellow- prisoners. And will not one of Ihat base crew come forward to assist him now ? No— he was entirely forgotten, and there he sat looking ( apparently in great agony), first si Ihe ye- ng jr•* n. ( hen at h^ s wife, and lastly at his innocent chi' • I know not whether he was ever married, or ihat me sight of that happy trio brought back to bun the re- collection ol what had been, but this i know, ihat un- able to witness it any longer, he walked out into the yard. I soon followed him, and saw him sitting down on the cold stones, giving vent to his sorrows by * flood of tears. Unable to see such misery unmoved, I took my leave, having first left a trifle with the turn- key, to be appropriated to his use, inwardly declaring never more to enter there, ( except par necessitas.) CURIOUS INSCRIPTION. TO THE EDITOR OF THE PENNY SUNDAY T1ME8. Sir,— Having been a constant subscriber to your amusing and valuable miscellany, from ils commence- ment, 1 find in your 22nd number a curious inscription on a sign- board, in Dorsetshire, I therefore humbly beg leave to present you with another equally- curious and escentric, if ( Sir) you think it worth inserlion. Passing through Ihe City of New Sarum, a few days since, I was surprised by seeing the following truiy eccentric inscription, on a large board, over a garden- gate, in very conspicuous letters. 18] TILLY. [ 29. MY NAME ALONE SHALL SPEAK MY FAME! If any of your numerous readers will be so kind as to solve the above couplet, it will greatly oblige yours, respectfully, JOHN T. WRIGHT, D e v i s e s , Market place. Sept. 1, 1840. THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE- 1 ANGELINA! OR, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK'S ABBEY. AN ORIGINAL ROMANCE. FIT THE AUTHOR OF " ELA, TIIE OUTCAST : OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL," & C. ( Continued from our last. The vessel was now anchored within a short distance of the shore, and under the shelter of the rocks to screen her from observation; Hugh Clifford then ordered the long- boat to be lowered over her side, and having as- sisted our heroine into it, he quickly followed himself, as did also Mr. Woodfield, and several of the crew. The boat soon reached the point of landing, but scarcely had Hugh Clifford stepped on the shore, when two men darted upon him, and seizing him violently, ordered him not to resist at the peril of his life. " Ab I—' he lubbers are on to us;'' he exclaimed, " courage lads, to shore with ye, and let us see if we cannot soon teach these fellows better manners;— off, off, with ye, ye land sharks 1" Wilh these words Hugh Clifford, although they were very powe ful men, hurled them to the earth as though they had been children, then drawing his cutlass, he stood upon the defensive. Half- a- dozen shots imme- diately whizzed passed him, and several revenue officers darted from the different apertures in the rocks, where they had been lying in ambush, nnd surrounded Hugh. " Down with the d— d swabs !''— cried the smugglers in a breath, as they leapt sword and pistol in hand upon the beach, aud desperately cut their way to the side of their captain, who was fiercely engaged wilh a host of the assailants, and fighting with a bravery which no1 thing could surpass. The Clashing of swords ;— the firing of pistols, the shouts of the smugglers, the curses and groans of the wounded, now rendered the scene truly awful, while the brightness of the moon rendered it clearly visible. Mr. Woodfield and Angelina were left alone in the boat, and Ihe latter completely overcome with terror, screamed aloud, which attracted the attention of Hugh, who exclaimed:— " Back, back, to the shipagain I— Some of you hasten to their aid, a handful of us is enough to chastise these fellows!!"— In a moment one of the sm ugglers j umped into the boat, • nd prepared to take the oars, bul scarcely had he at- tempted to do so, when a pistol was discharged at him from the shore, the contents of which lodged in his breast;— he gave a yell of agony, and bounding in the ait, dropt lifeless into Ihe ocean, and sank to rise no mure. Angelina scretmed and fainted, and Mr. Woodfield finding it would be impossible for him to reach the smuggler's vessel without assistance, laid his niece down at Ihe bottom of the boat, to escape Ihe shots that might be fired after them, and once more took the oars, and using all his strength, he endeavoured to wind round to the hack of the rock, thinking there he might effect a landing in safety, and seek a shelter in St Mark's Abbey, until the conflict was at an end. He had scarcely, however, taken a dozen strokes, when the boat dashed with impetuous violence against a point of rock, which abutted into the sea, and which he had not observed, and immediately upset, and Mr. Woodfield and bis niece were both immersed in the water. Mr. Woodfield immediately arose again to the sur- faee, and with frantic haste looked round him in search of our heroine; the bright moonbeams immediately pointed out her light dress to him floating on the waves, and with desperate haste, he made towards her, and succeeded in clasping her round the waist. Mr. Wood- field was an excellent swimmer, but the alarm and ex- ertions he ho.- j undergone, had almost exhausted him, and it wa$ with extreme difficulty he gained the shore, where, with the senseless form of Angelina over his shoulder, he rushed towards the rock, upon the sum- mit of which stood the ruins of St. Mark's Abbey, but not many paces h-* d he advanced, when a man, armed with a cutlass, and by his dress, one of the officers rushed out upon him and not only impeded his progress but was in the act of aiming a violent blow at him when a determined voice from the rock above, and which seemed to make the whole place resound again exclaimed :— " Hold I cowardly knave!" Before he had an opportunity to turn to see who it was that uttered the mandate, the report of a pistol was heard, and the man dropped a corpse at the feet of him he was nbout to attack. Mr. Woodfield looked up, and standing at the very- edge of the rock, which overhung the beach, was Kate of the ruins, holding in each hand a pistol. She did not, however, remain in that attitude long but dashing down the rock, with astonishing precipita • ion, she snatched the form of our hetoine from him, and with a strength which seemed almost superhuman, threw her over her shoulder, and retraced her steps up the • side of the steep rock, calling upon Mr. Woodfield to follow. Completely thunderstruck, Mr. Woodfield obeyed her, but he had the utmost difficulty to keep pace wilh her; and when she entered the abbey ruins, she was enlirely hidden from his view, until the moonbeams streaming in at one of the apertures, time and decay had caused in the roof of the aisle, revealed lo him her white robes, as she flew along with increased swiftness oven, and looked more like some spirit of the grave than a human being. Mr. Woodfield quickened his speed, and followed his strange conductor up several spiral and winding staircases, the steps of which tottered beneath his feet, but over which she flew with unabated rapidity, until they stopped al a door concealed in the wall, and which no one who was not acquainted with the secret, would have thoughl was anything else than a part of the stone work, which Kate desired bim to press against wilh his back with all his strength. He complied, and inslantl the door fell back on its hinges, and disclosed to his astonished eyes a comfortable, well- furnished apart ment, in which was a bed, and a fire blazed cheerfully in the grate. Kate gently laid her senseless burthen on Ihe rock4 and taking from her bosom a phial, applied it to her nostrils, then poured a portion of the contents into the palm of her hand and chafed her temples. The mysterious woman then pointed to a small an room, lo which she requested that Mr. Woodfied w tuld retl- 3 for a few minutes, and having complied, she • Closed the door upon him. He had not been there long, before Kate igain opened the door, and beckoned him to return into the room again, which having done, he perceived ( hat Kate had changed the wet clothes of his r. i tc, ving placed her in an arm chair by the fire side, she was fast recovering under the influence of ils genial glow. " She is out of danger now, poor girl," said the mys- terious woman, in gentle tones, and gazing upon our heroine wilh looks of the deepest interest, " I must leave her for a few minutes,— but I will return to you again, and Rest contented that no harm can reach you here.'' " Kind, generous, noble- hearted woman," exclaimed Mr, Woodfleld, as he arose from his chair and advanced towards her, but Kate waved her hand, and dartin; Btantaneously from the room, closed the door upon him and he was left to the reflections which the strange ad venture he had met with, and Kate's more singular con duct had given rise to. His first care was, however, to see to ( he recovery of his niece, and it was not long ere he had the pleasure to find that his efforts were crowned with success. A gelina opened her eyes, and then looking around the apailment, exclaimed in tones of amazement and per- plexity ;— " My uncle, dear uncle, is thftt you P Methought we were swallowed up in the ocean— and that he— oh, tell me where are we." " Be calm, my love,'' relplied her uncle, " you are in a place of safety ;— this is St. Mark's Abbey." " S(. Mark's Abbey I" replied the^ astonished dam- sel,—" ah 1 I remember now, it was near the abbey where that terrible conflict began, and I saw him sur rounded and closed in by the glittering weapons of his antagonists ; oh, my uncle, surely his fate—" then sud- denly recollecting herself, and blushing deeply, she added;—" but why should I hesitate ?— Is it not na- tural that I should feel anxious to know the fate of him who saved my life, when twice threatened by " " Compose yourself, my lave," said her uncle, " all may ye( be well; Kate, the kind, though the myste- rious woman of these ruins, to whom we are indebted for our safety, will soon return, and then we shall doubtless know the result of the combat; but from ( he unexampled bravery displayed by the smugglers' there very lit lie doubt but that they were triumphant/' " Smugglers.'" repeated Angelina, with peculiar em- phasis and expression of Countenance which Mr. Wood- field Could not help noticing. Before they could make any further observations Ihc door opened, and Kate entered. She advanced towards ngelina with, ( he utmost kindness depic( ed in her counlenance, and taking her hand, said :— " My poor girl, it joys me to see you restored ;— it will not however, be safe for you to leave the abbey to night for ( here are ( hose lurking about the neighbour- hood who might do yori harm. In this place you may rest with the greatest security, and I will be your com- panion. I have also prepared a chamber for you— our— Mr. Woodfield, I mean, and as soon as you like in ( he morning you may depart, and 1 will con- duct you by a secret avenue from hence." Ah, tell me," eagerly ejaculated Angelina » " the smugglers', they " " Have defeated the land shatks, and left few of them to give an account of it;" rejoined Kate;—" and Hugh Clifford artd his companions regained their vessel in safety, and are now far away from hence." Heaven be praised !" exclaimed our heroine, fer- vently, and clasping her bands, unable to restrain the full expression of the feelings that animated her bosom. Kate looked upon her wilh the deepest interest as she thus expressed herself, and more than once a sigh escaped her bosom. Mr> Woodfield watched her with mingled feelings of at » e and astonishment, but sud denly recollecting himself, he said:— To you, strange, but kind- hearted woman, how shall I express my thanks, my " " Enough,'' interrupted the woman, " Kale of ( he ruins needs not any such expressions as those; that she has been able to do what she has done, affords her more atisfaction than she can express ;— heaven above only knows the gratification, the gratitude which now fills my breast;— poor girl, had you in whom 1 have reason to feel so deep an interest, met with such a fale as that to which you was exposed, what else would Kate then have to live for, what besides her who She suddenly paused, and checked herself, as though she considered she had said too much, and then con- tinued in a different tone : — " But you must be tired, after the fatigue you have ndergone ; so, if you will follow me, I will conduct you to the chamber allotted to your repose." " Mysterious woman;" cried Mr. Woodfield, " yotir words fill me with amazement, why should you feel so deep an interest in one who is almost a stranger to you ?" " A stranger 1" reiterated Kate, with h melancholy mile,—" but no matter;— seek not to know that which time only can unravel. Follow me !" Finding that it would be useless to question her fur- ther, Mr Woodfield affectionately embraced his niece, and obeyed. ( To be continued.) to the preceding train of reflection,— of which it isment of engaging new assistants, and where vacancies ' 1 ' ' ... ... occurred, the applications of powerful interest, which James did not now possess, were as usual, found far to outweigh the humble, because more modest claims of real merit. One opening only remained of which Campbell could avail himself, but on that he durst not think, or if he did it was wilh the bitterest agony, for it would separate him, perhaps for ever, from his Jeannie, did he av » i! himself of it. This reflection quite unmanned him, and he had not courage enough to support him ihrough the trial of communicating the proposal to her. It was to accept an offer of a situation of considerable emolument in the colony of Demerara, then tbe seat ofa malignant and fatal distemper. The following heart- rending sen- tences was the first intimation Jeannie received of an event to her so ultimately disastrous: " JEANNIE, GJ " It vvas presumption— it was sin in me" to love you — yon, born far above me in rank, and elevated in station, while I was but the creature of an hour, and lived only in Ihe sunshine of the ficklest of all that is liable lo change, commercial prosperity: but heaven lias pu- nished me, and ( that 1 should ever live to write the words !) we must part— yes, Jeannie, and I had almost resolved to take my agonizing farewell in a letter— but that was beyond my courage, I will see you before I go— I will once more drink delicious and intoxicating transport from your looks, and for the first time, be mi- serable before you, and feel how bitter is the pang of parting from those we love, for I must love you still, while a breath ot lire animates my fiame.— Thine, ever thine, " JAMES CAMPBELL." JAMES CAMPBELL. A TALE. From thee, Eliza ! I must go, And from my native shore; The cruel fates between us throw A boundless ocean's roar; But boundless oceans, roaring wide, Between my love and me, They never, sever, can divide My heart and soul from thee. Farewell, farewell, Eliza dear, The maid lhat I adore ! • A boding voice is in mine ear, We . part to meet no more ! But the last throb that leaves my heart While death stands victor by, That throb, Eliza 1 is thy part, And lliine lhat latest sigh ! BURNS. In Glasgow, all must remember well Ihe first weeks of April, 1820. Wilh a considerable pari of the west of Scotland, they formed a period which might be called the Reign of Terror, the very Saturnalia of de- mocracy. These weeks, however, were not without their uses, nor was ( hat a ( ime of unmitigated evil ; for, although a spirit of rebellious turbulence armed a por- tion of our citizens against the time- honoured consti- tution of their country, it also gave an opportunity to thousands of young and gallant hearts to shew thei reverence for the institutions of their fathers, and dis- play a noble courage in their defence. To an old man like myself, it was indeed an animating sight to behold ( lie youlh just bursting into manhood, as well as the family, each, at the appointed hour, exchanging the weeds of peace for the martial garb of Lincoln Green ; forsaking ihe desk and the 4counter of commerce, for the parade and muster- place of expecied strife, and Ihrowingdown the pen to shoulder the rifle. Old ( hough I he, I am an early riser; yet how often, in the depth of the severe winter preceding ihe outrages of the spring of 1820, did I meet, when proceeding to ( he Collee- room, for my usual morning dose of inlelli gence and gossip, crowds of striplings, and of vigorous youths, hastening, wilh light and loyal hearts, lo the place of rendezvous and drill, under an atmosphere, and wilh circumstances combined, which might have even warranted a grumble from a veteran of ten cam- paigns ;— yel there vvas no such things heard from ( hem. The cheery jibe, or the mirlhtul laugh, were the sounds lhat grceled my ear at these their matin meelings. I admired much, as I believe there were few who did not, Ihe appearance of our sharpshooters in their mar- tial costume ; but I must confess, I was fonder of them and felt a more parental kindness as it were, towards ihem, when they were seen at muster, wilh Ihe while infantry bell, and lumbering cartouch- box, hastily buckled over their every day and peaceful habiliments They ( hen wore upon them, obvious to every eye, the stamp of the soldier citizen— of the patriot, who, though he had not renounced the offices of peace, was yet ready, unpaid and unfettered, to encounter the dangers of warfare for the preservation of tranquillity, and ( he safety of those who were nearest and dearest to him. There may be cowards in a regular regiment; for a life of comparative idleness to lhat of the indus- trious tradesman, and insured regularity of stipend, with all the changes of scenes and faces, and the un- ending variety which the military occupation offers, may occasionally tempt a poltroon to join the ranks — ( How few there are of such a cast in our army, how- ever, let its conduct for the last five and twenty years bear witness !) — but one who makes a great and almost unlooked for sacrifice of time, ease, and safety, by entering into a military association for the defence of his country from invasion, or for the more invidious, ungracious, and, let me add, dangerous purpose of pre- venting or suppressing civil strife, gives an incontes- ( ible proof of his courage. It was quite delightful to me to observe how much of that quality existed in Ihe breasts of many youths of my acquaintance, who had never before been placed in circumstance at all likely ( o genera( e it. It was cheering to find that it formed a pari and parcel of their nature, a sort of store, ready for any emergency, or to use Iheir own business- like phraseology, a deposit, on which they might draw lo any amount ; a bank, on which they had an unlimited letter of credit. Among those who distinguished themselves by ( heir alacrity and ardour on the occasion I set out with al- luding to, was a young man towards whom I entertained great good will. The mischances which have befallen him, I shall shortly relate, as it was the receipt of some additional intelligence respecting them, and the sight of a lovely, but unfortunate friend of his, that gave rise more than probable, my readers are already heartily tired. James Campbell was one of a numerous family, to which his parents, occupying a small farm in Argyle- shire, bad given existence. James; and his brothers and sisters, were sent to receive the usual education of a country parish school, one of those simple, and incom plicated, but all powerful machines for the propagation of the useful elements of knowledge, to which Scotland is so much indebted for ils pre- eminence, nat only in the walks of mind, but also in the practical business of every- day life. At this humble seminary, he distin guished himself above all his juvenile compeers, by his skill in penmanship and ciphering. His hand- writ- ing was indeed beautiful, even after the rapidity of bu- siness transaclinns gave but little liine for the display of taste. This, with seme other qualifications, seemed to point him out lo his parents as particularly fitted for the mercantile profession, and accordingly James re- ceived Instruction for some years longer I ban ihe rest of his relatives, who had no higher views than to " tread ( he path their fathers trod before." When lie had, at length, reached an age, at which his affectionate parents thought he might, wilh some degree of safety, be trusted among the allurements and temptations of a great city, he was sent to Glasgow.— His father's landlord was distantly related to a merchant of eminence, and, as the prinfciple of clanship yet ex- ists in our northern counties, to an extent lhat English- men can hardly believe possible, the fact of his being the son of a feudal retainer of this merchant's friend, and withal, bearing the same patronymic, was of more advantage to hiin, than even his knowledge of cali- graphy, and its sis( er arts, to his acquirements in which I have before alluded. James, at this lime, was a rough material, yet sound at the core. Sound he continued to be ; but tile rough- ness speedily gave place to Ihe polish of a well- bred young man, though he never assumed the airs of a petit maitre. He had not been educated in the school « f Ctieslerfield, but he had been brought up in one far bet- ter soiled to the production of men of virtue, sense, and politeness— that of unsophisticated Nature and strict decorum. His behaviour in society was not regulated by multifarious and fashionable rules, but spontane- ously arose, almost without himself perceiving it. from the innate feeling which unceasingly prompted him to do to others as lie would wish to be done unto. 1 have repeatedly heard him describe, in a style of greal na- tural simplicily and humour, his appearance when he first came to reside in Glasgow Dressed in the coarse blue cloth, the product of home industry, or; as our good house- wives term it," ham'ard madei" universally worn in the west Highlands, with heavy shoes, thick ribbed blue stockings, and a head of hair tha( would have formed acuriosiiy of no small value in M'Alpine's museum of tetes he became a denizen among us. In a few weeks, however, his external man underwent a ( ransformation as complete as any recorded in heathen mythology ; and the spruce cut of his coat, and pattern of his pantaloons, served wonderfully to reconcile him lo ( he painful confinement of a counting- house, accus- tomed as he bad been to the Invigorating sports of mountain life. His hair, however, bleached for nine- teen summers by every breeze that blew, and every shower that fell, ( which last, we are all well aware, are not of particularly seldom occurrence wilh us), often loo without the covering of a bonnet, demanded months of care, and a considerable store of " huille de rose," before it could be softened into pliability, and deprived of its brush- like growth. Upon his tongue, the accents of ( he mountain, long and ( enacionsly " hung," but lent, at the same ( ime, a Doric simplicity, and appear- ance of hearty sincerity to his language and senti ments, at the style and manner of which, even his friends were often unable toabs( ain from smilir „ From that period he allowed few days to pass over him without adding ( o his intellectual caphal, and to ( he circulating medium of affability and politeness which is its representative. He mixed with company of a superior description, and beoame an universal fa- vourite ; and not an universal favourite only, which too frequently means in the vocabulary of the day, one who, because he can sing a good song, or tell a lasci- vious story, is asked out to every company, and brought forward lo amuse the other guests, as a part of the evening's entertainment, and a necessary accompani- ment ( o the punch- bowl; but with many a particuta friend, and with one, a very particular favourite indeed. To Jeannie White he had been introduced by a mu- tual acquaintance, on some occasion of festivity, not at all wilh a view to their future intimacy, but merely in course of the usual ceremonial of such occasions. To ( lie common observer, Jeannie, ( or, romping Jeannie as she, in ( he o'er- bubblingof her mirihfulness would often call herself) , would appear a thoughtless madcap : she was all frolic, liveliness, and animal spirits; and the majority of her acquain ance treated her as a girl lo whom amusement was Ihe principal business of life, and laughter its chief joy. She indeed vvas passionately fond of these, but ( liey di 1 not altogether engross her mind, although, whenever she appeared, like the morn- ing smile of the sun in spring, gloom and cheerlessness lied before her. James had penetration sufficient to mark ( his, and to discern, through her graceful veil of joyous hilarity, deeper feelings and more impressive thoughts. He suited his conduct to this discovery, and would alternately brighten her cheek with the smiles of satisfaction at his wit, playfulness, and humour i or cause it to glitter with milder lustre, through the melt- ing tears which his pathos often called foi th. Many a lime, too, her blue eye would beam with intense and fixed attention on him, when, with the grace of a gen- tleman, and the skill and ability of a scholar, he would explain to her some interesting point of history or science, or descant on the literature of ancient and modern times. Such delicate attentions, when pro- perly suited to the disposition, inevitably win the affec- tions of the fair. Iu paying ( hem, James, as migh( have been expected, lost his own heart, but was re- warded by ( he acquisition of Jeaunie's, which was now wholly and freely his. Never was there love more pure, never affection more reciprocal than theirs. They looked forward w ith anxi- ety to the period when ( here might be a favourable op porlunily for James commencing business on his own account; as he prudently thought, that, while his in- come depended solely on the success of his master's spe- culations, nnd the steadiness of his favour, which he liad found variable, in these circumstances, lo risk the happiness of Jeannie by their union^ would be to gratify his own feelings, at the expense of propriety and real affection. This decision was just: alas, that it was also unfortunate ! While the military exercises and displays, which the revolutionary symptoms I before adverted to, rendered necessary and laudable among our young clerks and shop- keepers, were affording to ihe ladies of Glasgow, an inexhaustible fund of remark, admiration, gossip, and amusement, and to none more so than to Jeannie White, the cloud that was to overwhelm her earthly happiness for ever was collecting, and already loured in frowns upon her. In the calm and sunshine that often precedes a tern pest, either in the face of nature, or in the moral world and individual happiness, there is a fearful contrast to the hideous, and appalling, or deep heart- rending con- sequences of it. The beauteous tranquillity which pre cedes the hurricane of desolation only serves, in reiro- spection, to aggravate the horrors of the moment, and Ihrough our memory, to render us less fit to bear up against it. The mercantile embarrassments of Ihe time, suddenly and unexpectedly involved the establishment of which James vvas a member, in bankruptcy and ruin. The shock, because unlooked for by him, was the more se- vere. His future services to the firm, were, of course, unnecessary, and be vvas cast upon the wide world, wilh but one kind friend to help him. His parents had long before paid ihe debt of nature, and his ne- cessary expenses bad not permitted him to hoard anv part of his salary. In these circumstances what could he do ? — difficulties beset him on every side, and want seemed to stare him in ( he face, wherever he turned. From the panic that prevailed throughout the mercantile community, no one thought for a mo- Miss While possessed, in her own right, the moderate fortune of five hundred pounds, and her mother was in the enjoyment ofa considerable jointure. This sum, her all, she hesitated not for one moment, through the medium of her maternal uncle, to lay at the feet of James," whether," she added faulteringly to her friend, " whether he go or stay with us:" for she still cherished the hope and belief ( hat he might have it in his power to do the taller. There was an affectionate emphasis on us, that spoke of the friendly terms on which Campbell had lived with all her friends; but the look that accom- panied the word said more, for he was all— friend— parent— relative— everything to her. This incontesta- ble proof of devoted love, filled our young unfortunate with deep and fervent admiration, but it also gave him firmness enough to resist the noble offer. He thought that had he accepted it, he would have proved himself unworthy of he heroic woman, who, for his sake, was ready to pledge her fortune to the last farthing, and face the cold front of poverty, while yet in the heyday of that period of life, in which it may be emphatically said one enjoys enjoymtnt. His feelings were nice, proud, and high, perhaps my readers may think loo much so, and begin to doubt the sincerity of ( ha( love which, in ihese circumslances, could determine on agonizing the bosom of the one adored by persisting in leaving her. Let us not be hasty in judging ; if this pride was a failing, at least it must be confessed, that it " Leaned lo virtue's side." It would require an abler pen than mine to describe the bitterness of their last parting, and yet the latest mo ment was not ( he most painful, for the buoyant soul of Campbell had begun lo cherish hope;— a fearful and mysterious feeling of dread, however, succeeded ( he paroxysm of grief that had convulsed the frame of jeannie. She, once the most disposed ro cheer a moment of sorrow, by the sunshine of anticipated joy, seemed frozen into marble stillness by despair. She never en- couraged hope—' twas well she never did,— but it was different wilh James. Miss White accompanied her mother, and several of her lover's valued friends, lo the vessel's deck. It was unmoored— the anchor was weighed— ihe signal for sailing had been given, yet still the hapless Jeannie lin- gered on board in mute, yet speaking, speechless grief. The boat was lowered, and, as with a smile which seemed an effort, Campbell pressed ber death cold hand lo his burning and feverish lips, he, in atone of as- sumed firmness and' gaiety, which, in such circum- stances, is to me more expressive of enmtion than the most convulsive struggles, articulated the following FAREWELL. The gallant vessel stems Ihe tide That bears me ' cross the Atlantic wide, Nae langer may I dare lo bide, Sae fare thee weel a wee, Jeannie. Forget na me when far awa, Althongh my back tie at the wa, Fortue may smile upon us tvva, Or I come back to thee, Jeannie. Believe me, love, and hope will cheer The path I ( read, ho- v dark so'er— My cheek will never blanch wi' fear. The prize I'll win is thee, Jeannie. Should health and wealth be mine at last, An' a' the shoals o' poortith past; Then I may shield ( hee frae ihe blast, For life it beild to thee, Jeannie. This was as Imlm to the heart of Jeannie ; but she knew, wuh all the firmness of conviction, that it was also delusion. Farewell, Jamie,"—" Farewell my life," were faintl y and repeatedly heard, as they waved their hands and handkerchiefs, while tile space belwixt them, ( he, to one, impaisable gulf, was every moment increasing with, they thought, a fearful haste, and, as it were, ma- licious alacrity. Home had lost all its at tractions in the eyes of Jeannie — nay, lo think of it, had now become painful; for he of whom she never ceased to think had left his home.— She therefore consented wi h — pleasure I had almost said— but that emotion she had become callous to- signa( ion ( hen, that was the feeling— to spend the sum- mer in the country ; whither she proceeded to the house of a relation. Trie sorrow which is felt on first leaving the country of our birth, and i » eing, as it were, launched on the stream of life, but without the rudder of expe- rience or the guidance of friendship, is the one, the only feeling that approaches Ihe undying misery that springs from a blighted first love. Has not a portion of my readers eagerly followed the vessel that, as in irthful derision, gaily and fleetly hounded across the wave? " Tbe wheels," says a Spanish proverb, " run smoothly on ( he load to destruction." The breeze, I inay add, from s^ d experience, often blows favourable when the haven is the tomb. James saw the New World; but, and in ( he hour of dissolution, the thought pleased hirn, his feet ne'er ( rod & uo( her soil than lhat of Scotia, though his remains lie in a foreign grave. It was the rainy season when he arrived at Demerar. i. The pestilence bad ceased its ravages on shore, only to carry there wilh increased terror among the hardy seamen of the shipping in the river. It, as it were, spread its baleful wings, and ad- vanced with open arms to clasp our devoted wanderer with horrible embrace ! In perfect health on Tuesday — he vvas a denizen of another, and, I feel assured, to bim a betier world on Thursday. His sufferings were intense ; but they were brief. His last thoughls were of Jeannie— the last articulate sound that escaped him was an attempt to utter her much- loved name. The very same vessel which bore him from his love, brought hack to h r the tidings of his death. Dissolu tion under whatever form, is indeed a fearful thing: bu ah ! the deal'h of our nearest and our dearest is dread fill, when it happens in a foreign clime, when its occur, rence is announced to us, not by the long drawn sigh and stilly repose that follows it, which tell us ' hat the struggle is over, and th it peace and tranquillity have succeeded to suffering and pain ; but by the voice of an uninterested messenger, or Ihe still more cheerless an desolate, because silent, and in itself, and in itself, un sympathizing means of a leller; perhaps, carefully written— trimly folded; and neatly sealed with ihe dis mal herald of despair! Tranquillity; but to us, how horrible! She had not hoped— she was not disap- pointed ; tint Ihe cup of her desolation was full— and she quaffed it to the dregs. A calmness which surprised ( hose who had not carefully marked her conduct from the departure of Campbell, held its sombre and un broken sway over her, like the unagitated ai ofa < Gar- net vault, from ( he moment she heard of ( he ^ sum- mation of her believings and fears. 1 saw her yesterday— she scarcely recognised ..—. Her features have lost their glow of beauty— yet they are lovely still 1— her b) ue eye is sunken and lustreless; and I can see, though her fond mother cannot, that heir now delicate frame is unable long to support the men tal throes that agitate it. Her foot approaches the grave, and consumption is gently leading the one ® vivacious and mirthful Jeannie White, with touching, and beautiful solemnity, towards its precincts— Gentle be her descent, and dreamless her last long angel- like repose ! The latest of mundane objects upon which her speak- ing eye wiU rest, will be a military badge of her be- loved and hapless James. She asked it from him be- fore his departure, and she has never trusted it from her sight since then— no, nor will she ever. Tbe catastrophe is almost complete— the narrative concluded. She breathes.— yet lives not, but to the memory of her Jamie and to her God. A SCENE FROM THE IMAGINATION. " To- night \ ye will drink ( he blood of infants in their father's skulls and our lamp shall be replenished wilh the fat flesh lorn from ( he yel warm corse ; and its wick shall be made of the shrouds and winding sheets of the Parricide." Such were Ihe words lhat arose from the world of imagination, around a circle formed of sku'ls which had been brorfght up from the very lowest depths of the sea, and where was ever and anon flitting the ill omens of death ready to journey through the earth and give timely warning of the approach of the angels of darkness. Large, blue, and scaly were the creeping things lhat craw led among the sulphurous embers, or took up iheir abode in the lank hair of the urrounding evil doers, without whose presence this world of tears would be transformed into a celestial paradise. An unearthly sigh arose from the contorted hag, whose cadaverous features were covered with gore, and who was picking the eyes from a strangled babe! and whose long and yellow tusks had twisted about them Ihe once golden hair of a devoted lover, whose affec- ( ions meeting no return, drove her to the desperate act of suicide 1 Turning aside to one of her evil companions, she ex- claimed— To- morrow, sister, we must away to the lowest pitchy s( ream of Hell, and there renew our, thou- sand charmed skulls with a poison that will goon thin the earth of its people. The earth split, a frightful chasm yawned, ' fwtas a churchyard where for ages had reposed the dead un- molested and undisturbed; in the separation aird vto- . lent fissures of the earlb, the ( ides of a thousand gave' way, and down that frightful precipice lhat comtmu- nica( ed with hell, the half- decayed trunks of men, women, and childien, with Iheir worm- harbouring gtave clothes, were precipitated wilh awful rapidity, andever and anon, Ihe liquid fire in the far distance would open for awhile and then receive for ever Ihe spirits of the damned. A present we bring thee king of hell, • A heart from the socket just torn. These words were scarce utter'd when rose a yell, And they quick to ( he centre were borne." Clash went the gates of that abode of darkness— a bine smile played upon Ihe jaws of a thousand demons. Cease thy mirth, cried Ihtir ruler making a circle in Ihe air with a massive rod of bone, that had been cast and melted from Ihe bones of Alexander, Nero, Herod, Csesar, and the tyrants of a thousand nations now no more. " Conduct them lo the lake whose waves are the fat and poisonous blood of kings, but ere thou fillest one skull on its margin ! thou shalt all throw in Ihe rings which niw adorn thy middle claw into a separate skull bowl which shall be placed in the centre, after having been sent floating on Ihe bluest stream in all my dominions, and when the fire h; is heated it enough, thou shall pound its contents with a thigh- bone until it is • dticed to powder, whiter than bones thrown up frora our fiercest fires. Ha! ha I lial" " Thy will shall be obeyed!" and away hurried the horrid crew, each bearing on its head the skull of a murderer, the suicide, the fratricide, the parricide, in- fanticide, and those of barkers; a sepulchral chorus they continued singing until they reached the damned spot of their destination. Halt!" cried the leader, an immense circle was formed in the twinkling of a dealh call, ( he largest leap was placed in the centre. " Take off thy rings and cast them into the hollow whose eye holes have been slopped up.'' Each dweller in lhat subter- raneous abode proceeded to take off his ling, for a moment the slimy circles resisted; but it was for a moment only, when a thousand worms uncoiled ( hem- selves and were cast into the skull placed in ihe middle of Ihe circle, and Ihe contents were immediately re dticed into a powder, more poisonous than the drugs which envy » nd jealousy feed their victims with. They all hurried to ( he margin of tbe lake, and quickly begun to fill the skulls wilh ladles made of the hollow hands of those who had become their victims, and each ladle or scoop had the arm bone leading down to the hand which did away with Ihe necessity of hoop- ing. SpUsh went the blue liquid into the different cups, ihey had finished their work, a blue smile played again upon their yellowjaws, and taking hold of each other's claws; they formed a ring and commenced dancing round that charmed circle until ( heir leader thundered out with a hollow and sepulchral voice, " Take up thy bowls and follow me." Away they hurried, each monster turning hij green eyes first on one side and then on the other. A ( hou- and hags were waiting outside the gales of lhat infernal abode, they flew open at their approach, each one look up her bowl, and lhanking them with tears of blood for Iheir present, the gates closed upon ( hem again, and ihey were sent forth wanderers ihrough all the regions of the world. As rliey departed, they each one cried — " Adieu! dear brothers, alas we part F'rom scenes on which we love to dwell; Oh ! where s'lall we find so kind a heart, Who gave ( lie key of the bluest hell 1" J. WADHAW. TBE SOURCE OF THE 1' HAMF. S.— Within twomilesof Cirencester is the source of the Thames— a clear foun- tain in a little rocky dell, known by ihe name of Thames- head. This is the little infai. tine stream, so great a giant when it arrives at its full growth. The I it tie dell whence issues the gentle stream is in hot seasons perfectly diy, but the drought that slops the supply at Ihe fountain- head has bu( slight effect on the course of Ihe siream. It has so many different feeders from various parts of the country, that at Lechdale and Crickdale it runs on its usual course uninfluenced by the scarcity at the head. There is an amusing story told of a simple cockney, who, on his way from Bris- tol to London , turned aside to visit the source of ( lie river he was so proud of. It was warm summer; ( here had been no rain for ( hree weeks, and the spring was dried up. " Good God I" said he, wi'h an expression of the utmost alarm and sorrow, what ruin this must cause at London 1 Whatever will ( he poor people do for water?" and his busy fancy conjured up a direful pi » ( ure of a thousand ills consequent upon ( he stop- page of the stream ; no more ships arriving al London laden with the wealth of the world, the bankruptcy of rich merchants, the shutting up of ' Change, Ihe failure of the Bank of England, the anguish of ruined families, and the dealh of thousands in the agonies of ( hirst.— The Germans ( ell a similar story of a traveller who vi- sited ihe springs of Ihe Danube, and which, as we are upon the subject, may serve as a pendant lo the lale of our cockney. The traveller in ( his case vvas a Suahi in, and whenever ( he Germans wish to palm off a joke a Suabian is sure to be the butt. On noticing in what a small stream ( he water trickled at Ihe source of that great river ( the Danube), he formed the bold resolu- tion of slopping it up. He put his hand across it, and, as he fancied Ihe variouscities upon ils course deprived of their supply of water by this deed, he exclaimed in the pride of his heart, " Whal will they say at Vienna I" THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. ^ Fragmcnte for tlje Curious. YORKSHIRE WIT.— A Yorkshire boy went into a public- house, where a gentleman was eating eggs. The boy looked extremely hard at him for some time, and then said, ' Will you be good enongh to give me a little salt, Sir ?' ' Aye, certainly, boy ; but why do you • want salt?' ' Perhaps, sir,' says be, ' you'll ask me to eat an egg presently, ami I should like to be ready.' 4 What country are you from, my lad ?' ' Yorkshire, Sir.' ' I thought so— there take an egg.' ' I thank you, Sir,' said the boy. ' Well,' added tbe gentleman,' they are all great horse stealers in your country, are they not ?' ' Yes,' rejoins the boy, ' my father, ( though an honest man,) would no more mind stealing of a horse than I would drinking your glass of ale— Your health, Sir,' says he, and drank it up. ' That will do,' says the gentleman; ' I see you're Yorkshire.' THE WILLOW, BY H. MANDER MAY. You ask why I murmur, and beat my sad breast, Ah 1 would that my sorrows were only a dream ; My woes, dear companions, deprive nte of rest, As I sigh o'er the willow, that droops o'er the stream. Near tbe shade of that willow with Edward I rov'd, As the wave's gentle ripple received the moonbeams ; Twas tirst by that willow he told me he lov'd, And its leaves all tbe while kissed the chrystaline streams. On that day poor Rose was borne to her grave, My happiness shed like a transient dream ; Alas '. 011 that day he was lost in the wave, But not near our willow that hangs o'er the stream. A more boisterous wave rock'd my Edward to sleep, ' Midst thunders loud rattle, and lightning's gleam ; And 1, dear companions, for ever must weep, With tbe willow that dips its sad leaves iu the stream See, my willow is dying, it fades and 1 sigh, The moon's pale light on its yellow leaves gleam ; Hark 1 they whisper " prepare the lost Lucy to die," With thy willow that folds up its leaves by the stream. She spoke, aud the virgins in sorrow retired, While pale on the plain, darted Cynthia's beam; But ere morning return'd, gentle Lucy expired, By the side of the willow that weeps o'er the stream. THE PROPOSAL!— Miss M , a young heiress of considerable personal attractions, chanced to be seated at a dinner party, next to a gentleman, remarkable in the fashionable circles for the brilliancy ofhis wit, and who had long made one in the train of her admirers. The conversation turning on the uncertainty of life, " I mean to insure mine," said the young lady archly, " in the hope." " In the hope of what ?" said the ad- mirer, " a single life is hardly worth insuring ; I propose we should insure our lives together, and, if you have no objectioD, I should prefer the Alliance." STANZAS. WRITTEN FOR THE " PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," BY J. LAMBE, AIR—" After many roving yean." Musing over vanish'd years, O'er fond affections past, Its hopes and joys, its smiles and tears, Its dreams too dear to last. I've wish'd 1 might renew those days Of love and romance fled— Tbe form that met my worship'd gaze, My buoyant passions led. But time hath wrought a fearful change ' Midst many a varied scene; Yet, what shall by- gone days estrange, Or peril what bath been? Fond memory still delights to trace Those treasured moments gore, Which weal or woe can ne'er efface,— But joyless ponders on. A transient gleam may flush the cheek, And check the sorrowing eye; Yet desolate the heart will keep Till death's eternity. So Nature suns the silent tomb, And gems with flow'rets gay ; All redolent with life and bloom- Within, dark, cold decay 1 Thus, musing over vanish'd years, O'er fond affections past, 1 monrn its hopes, its smiles, and tears, Its dreams too dear to last. THE WAY TO WIN A WOMAN'S HEART.— Let your hair hang in superfluous linglets over your neck and shoulders; never suffer a razor to touch your face; squeeze yourself into a coat of mulberry cloth ; put on a vest, striped with green, yellow and red; panls. checked with blue, crimson and purple; shove yonr feet into a pair of boots with the heels al least three inches high ; dandle a little black cane, tipped with brass; a huge brass ring on your little finger, and you will be the don of the day, and win the ladies' heart. 1 RELIGION.— Men will wrangle for religion ; write for it; tight for it; die for it; any thing but live for. " YEARS AGO 1" A BALLAD.— BY ANDREW JAMES M'DOUALL, AUTHOR OF " THE PAST." Years ago— years ago— oh, I went forth a thoughtless youth, For then my breast was full of hope— my heart tbe shrine of truth; But my sire, who urged me forward to join the free and brave- When I cry—" Oh 1 where is he now ?"— Time whispers, " in tbe grave! — Years ago— years ago !" Years ago— yeats ago— oh, I was free from sin and care ; Now my eyes i. re dim with weeping o'er grief in my despair For the form that first caress'd me upon her gentle breast; When I cry—" Oh ! where is she now ?"— Time whispers, " gone to rest !— Years aRO— years ago 1" Years ago— years ago— oh, I was loved, and loved again , Then my path was strewed with flowers— my dreams were tree from pain ; But the idol of my pas- ion that sunshine round me shed. When I cry—" Oh I where is she now .'"— Time whispers, " with the dead '.— Years ago— years ago !" Years ago— years ago— oh, I was happy, I was gay ; Now my heart is lone and cheerless, my hair is thin and grey- While the friends of sunny childhood that knew me in my blootn— When I cty—" Oh '. where are they now ?"— Time whis- pers, " iu the tomb '.— Years ago— years ago !" Years ago— years ago— oh, ye have bow'd my soul with grief. But I'll think no more upon ye, since life with all is brief; For should a thought of me remain till sonic few years are past. Ask Time—" Where is tbe minstrel then .'"— he'll whis- per " gone at last !— Years ago— years ago '." Bcgent's Park, Sept. 1st. 1840. PROTECTION AGAINST SCARLF. T FEVER.— Scarletina, an annual visitor at this season, has this year prevailed to a greater extent than usual ; scarcely a town in the kingdom but has felt its effects, though some but slightly, yet in others it has been more severe than for many preceding years ; it has almost entirely been confined to children. Nightshade has been strongly leeom- niended by the Inst physicians of Europe, as Dr. Hahneman, of Lripsic, Dr. Brinrit, of Castrin, Dr. Mushbeck, of Dearmin, in Westo n Pomerania ; Dr. Duatenbourg, of Warbourg : nnd many others who have tried and proved its good effects ill all cases. Those who have used this precaution have, though in the in- fected houses, escaped Ihe infection. It is also recom- mended by our own celebrated I) r. Graham. The for- mula recommended is, a solution of two grains of the extract of nightshade, in an ounce of distilled water,— To children of from one to ten years of age, from one to five drops of this solution is given four times a day ; from ten years upwards, from six to ten drops is given also four times in the ' 2- 1 hours. In some instances this has been continued for a fortnight. © tjeatm. " Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPF. RE. COVENT GARDEN,— Madame Vestris has had crowded houses ever since the opening, and if we may judge from the spirit with which everything is conducted, we should say tnat she cannot fail to receive even additional pa- tronage from the public. On Saturday, September 19th, a new five act play from the pen of Mr. Sheridan Ktiowles, called The Bride of Messina, was performed for the first time, and met with the most unequivocal success. It is a beautifully written play, and ihe pet formers all acquitted themselves admirably. We will give a lengthy detail of the plot, & c., in our next number. HAYMARKET.— The Rent Day, has afforded Mr. J. Wal- lack an opifl^ tutiity of playing his favourite character, and the applause which he lias elicited, shews that he gave the audience every satisfaction. Mr. David Rees, is remark- ably industrious, appearing every evening, and in a great variety of characters. He has made a very great impres- sion in the character of Grojan in Quite Correct, ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE.— This theatre has been pretty well attended lately, and the pieces produced have gene- rally met with success. They are mostly from the pen of Mr. Mark Lemon, an author whose industry is onlv equalled by bis talent. The interesting Drama of The Ancestress has been revived, and was well received. STRAND THEATRE.— Mr. T. Lee, the Irish comedian, aud Mr. E. Harper, the American vocalist lias been added to the company, but we are fearful that the proprietors are still doing but indifferent business. Mr. W. J. Hammond, made his first appearance on Monday, 14th, and met with a hearty reception. We have no doubt he will draw. QUEEN'S THEATRE.— A new drama written by Mr Seltiy, or rather adapted from Harrison's Ainswortb's Guy Fawkes, The tViteh of Orsdal, has been brought out at this theatre, and has hit the taste of the audience amazingly. Mr. Selhy has displayed his usual tact and judgment, and contrived to make it a highly effective piece. The actors also exerted themselves in a very me- ritorious manner. The scenery by Mr. James, the lessee, is really very beautiful. There have been many alterations and improvements made in this theatre, and the lessee de- serves encouragement. CITY THEATRE.— The Storm at Home, still continues to draw good houses, aHd to enlist the sympathies of tbe audience. Mr. Osbaldistnn as the hero, and Miss Vin- cent as the heroine, nightly draw down thunders of ap- plause. Anew extravaganza called IThe palace of Geneva, has been very well received, and introduces some good parodies. Miss Vincent's comic scena of JVanted a Governess, and a new medley are inimitable. ROVAL ALBERT SALOON.— Mr. Brading continues wilh the same spirit and liberality to carer for the amusement of his visitors, and certainly they do not fail to flock around his Standard in thousands. We unhesitatingly say, that it is not surpassed by any establishment iu Lon- don, for cheapness and tbe excellent quality of the enter- tainments. GALLANT TOM ! OR, THE PERILS OF A SAILOR ASHORE AND AFLOAT. AN ORIGINAL NAUTICAL ROMANCE. ( Concluded from our last.) ANECDOTES OF GEORGE III. GEORGE THE THIRD, AND HIS CONSORT, SOPHIA CHARLOTTE,— THE NURSE.— Doubts were entertained as to the possibility of rearing him ; and contrary to court etiquette, a nurse was selected for him from a very humble class of the community. Under the man- agement of this woman, who appears to have been the wife of a gardener, he rapidly gained strength; and the alarm of his parents, that be would be incapable of surviving even the minor diseases of infancy, was soon entirely dissipated. Although the delicate child had been confined to the care of this lowly, hut robust individual, contrary to precedent, yet, in obedience to the custom of the court, it was absurdly intimated to the woman, that the royal baby could not be permitted to sleep with her, " Not sleep with me !" she ex- claimed, bluntly and indignantly; " then you may nurse the boy yourselves." No arguments could in- duce her to waive her objection oil this point; and the parties concerned, al length, condescended to per- mit tbe nursling to be her bed- fellow. Many years after, either from misfortune, or her husband's extra- vagance, she was frequently in great distress for money ; on such occasiens she invariably applied to the prince ; who, if he had not the means of relieving her, would actually weep at his inability. THE ROYAL PRISONER.— On the 20th of January, 1741, he was first publicly prayed for; a reconciliation ( externally at least) having taken place between his father and the king, and the royal child appears to have been admitted familiarly into the presence of his grandfather. One day his majesty and the little prince being in the library together, the latter was so noisy that the king threatened to put him out of the window into the garden ; and finding his threat of no avail, carried it into execution. The sovereign con- tinued at his business without thinking any more of his grandson, until, being about to retire, Dalton, the librarian, reminded him that the young prince was a prisoner in the garden. " God bless me 1" exclaimed the king, ' I had forgotten the child ;" and, opening tbe window, lie set the future monarch at liberty. USEFUL KNOWLEDGE.— In 1741, Prince George, being nearly six years old, was taken from ihe nursery and placed under the care of Dr. Francis Ayscough, who is thus spoken of by Walpole:—" Mr. Pelham said, " I know nothing of Dr. Ayseough.— Oh! yes, 1 recollect 1 was told by a very worthy man, two years ago, that be was a great rogue.'' " The princess," says the same author, " found that Prince George, at eleven years of age, cou'd not read English, though Ayscough, to make amends, assured her he could make Latin verses." THE PAINTER. — Goupy, the artist, who was the young prince's drawing- mr. ster, one day found his pupil standing a prisoner behind his father's chair. " Sit clown, Goupy," said the Prince of Wales, " and finish your design." But the artist representing that it was impossible for him to use his pencil with any spirit while his little friend was in disgrace, the young prince was forthwith relieved. A number of years afterwards, his royal pupil, who bad long before ascended tile throne, met poor Goupy, then eighty- four years of age, and in deep distress, tottering from Kensington towards London, wilh bailiffs at bis heels. The king, who was in his carriage, dirccled the seivants to stop, and thus hailed his old preceptor:—" How now, Goupy!— How now!— What's the matter?" The aged artist replied, that his personal freedom was in immi- nent jeopardy ; but, added he, " as I once took your majesty out of confinement, I trust you will not suf- fer me to be placed in it." " Oho, Goupy !" said tile king; " Bailiffs, eh? I can't stop Ihe law, you know: let it take its course. But,— il'ye hear, Goupy ? — Ramus shall settle this business, and I'll take care lo secure you from such dangers in future." LOST LABOUR. — About this time, the prince, accom- panied by Lord Bate, took a trip to Scotland. While changing horses at Edinburgh, they were recognised by a cavalry officer, who, antious to know what important business had brought ihe heir- apparent and Lord Bute to North Britain, immediately took horse, and ac- tually doggticl them from Edinburgh to Glasgow, thence to the West of Scotland and the Isle of Bale, and afterwards, by another route, back to the inn at Edinburgh, where he had first discovered them. THE KING AND THE CLERGYMAN. — Although, in common conversation, the king spoke with a rapidity which often made him unintelligible, in public he de- claimed With as much true modulation as almost any man in his dominions. Yet he had but a mean opinion of oratory, for be once said, " I am sure that the rage for public speaking, and the extravagant length to which some of our most popular orators carry their harangue's in parliament, is very dulrimen'al to the national business; and I wish it may noi, in ( he end, prove injurious to the public peace." At a very early period of his reign, he laudably endeavoured to divest public eloqueccocf its usual laudatory personalities to royalty. Wilson, the. prebendary of Westminster, hav- ing been guilty of some fulsome adulation to the young monarch, in his chapel, he received an admoni- tory message from Ms majesty, who stated that he went to church to hear God praised, and not himself. Some- time afterwards he issued an order, prohibiting those clergymen who should preach before him from paying him any compliment in their discourses. During the time this confession was being read, the emotion exhibited by the earl was of the most violent de- scription, and the power of a guilty conscience was never more singularly developed. He swayed his body to and fro', aud deep sighs frequently betrayed his intense men- tal agony. Once or twice he raised his head and looked around the room, but he quickly withdrew his eyes, and shrunk abashed from the looks of detestation and horror that were fixed upon him by the persons congregated.— When the clerk had concluded, he again raised bis head, and the livid hue of his countenance, his quivering lips, and the restless wandering of bis eyes, plainly shewed the hell that was raging in iiis bosom. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him, and sinking back in the chair, he once more covered his face with his handkerchief, and gave himself up to the most violent anguish. The name of Mat. was now called, and stepping for- ward, he detailed in a clear and explicit manner, the cir- cumstance of his discovering the Earl Algernon and the child, the only difference in the account he now gave, and that which be gave to bis wife being, that instead of him Idyiug, after much trouole and care, he recovered from bis wounds, and remained at the cottage of Mat's sister. That lie never told him who he was, but from his appearance and manners, he had every reasou to believe that. he was a nobleman. Moreover that he never ex- pressed any opinion upon the subject ofthe attempt which liad been made upon his life, although it. was evident he formed a shrewd guess with whom it originated. That one evening be left the cottage to take a walk in the neighbourhood, but had never returned, and be hail ima- gined that lie had been so unfortunate as to fall into the hands of his | enetnies once more, who had taken good care to accomplish their murderous purpose this time. " From that time," continued Mat., " I adopted the poor child, and to prevent his falling into the hands of those who sought his life, and to drown all suspicion, I called him my nephew, and even my own wife, until lately, did not know him in any other character. Indeed I was as fond of him as if be had been my own flesh and blood, votir worships, and well did he merit tbe affection I be- stowed upon him. That boy has grown apace ; and there is not a finer lad in Christendom, than Richard the son and heir of the deeply injured Algernon Earl Fitzosbert." Richard started at this strange— this unexpected disclo sure ; he tried to speak, hut his feelings overpowered him, aud he stood gazing iu stupified amazement at liini who he had always imagined was his uncle. The sensation created in the office Was not the less remarkable, than the astonishment and incredulity evinced hy Richard, who now became the observed of all observers. The horror aud confusion exhibited by Fitzosbert, was evident to every person; guilt was stamped upon every lineament of his countenance, lie turned deathly pale, aud red alternately, and his limbs trembled as though be had the palsy. He fixed hi< eyes upon the handsome comite nance of Richard, and iu that look was concentrated all that malevolence, rage, and disappointment, which were at that time raging in his bosom. " How know you that the lad of whom you speak, is the son of the Earl Fitzosbert ?** inquired one ofthe ma- gistrates. " From his own lips?" answered Mat. " By heaven ' tis false!" cried Fitzosbert, for tbe first time regaining the use of speech, aud making a desperate effort to regain hi- equanimity; " his own woids prove him to he stating a falsehood. Did be not before say that he knew not who or what the man was, upon whose life be states that there had been an attempt made? Besides, you surely cannot credit such a preposterous, such an im probable story as the one he has been telling you." " 1 have spoken nothing but the truth returned Mat, vehemently;—" the Earl Fitzosbert still lives'." " Lives!" gasped iorih Fitzsbert, his lips quivering, and his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. " Aye, villain ! lives to your shame and confusion ; be- ho'd, be stands before you !" exclaimed a voice, the tones of which struck horror to Ihe prisoner's heart, and a per- son who had been concealed by the others in the office, darted forward, aud throwing off a large dark mantle, be- fore the accused stood the tail and commanding figure of the mysterious stranger, who had sought shelter at tbe " Old Commodore," the black domino, and in whose awaited him, for the present, so as to enable him the hetterto accomplish thS plot he bad in contemplation, to bring about his own ends. How that plot was contrived, and bow it succeeded has been already shewn. The restoration of tbe earl to his rights was hailed with ' much delight by all who lived in the neighbourhood, and many gentlemen who had formerly hail the honour to enjoy his friendship, flocked to congratulate liini ou his fortunate escape from death, and the almost miraculous way in which his sou had been restored to him; that son who promised fair to add fresh honours to the name of Fitzosbert. Richard felt none of that extravagant joy which might have been cxpected, at his sudden elevation to rank and fortnne, neither did he forget bis former benefactors, on whom the earl fixed a handsome annuity; and he never called Ellen by any other title than " his pretty coz." Gallant Tom, as be still liked to be called, and bis sister Rosina, having now fully established their relation- ship, took a handsome bouse near that of the Earl Fitz- osbert, with whom they were on terms of the most ar- dent friendship. In about two months after the events we have been relating, Tom ( who no change of fortune could alter), led his lovely Ellen to the church, aud ful- filled the vows he bad so long plighted to her. A joyful day was that in Plymouth— there were nothing but merry faces to be seen, and Tom invited the whole of his old shipmates to partake of bis hospitality, aud the festivities got up on that auspicious occasion. We have little more to add. Torn rose to great emi nence in the navy, and was as much beloved as an officer, as be had been respected when a private man. He lived to see a numerous family around him, inheriting all the virtues of their parents,' and it is not many years since " be was called up aloft." The earl lived to a good old age, esteemed by every body, and was gratified by seeing Iiis son nobly earn the laurels that never fail to deck the hero's lirow. He mar- ried a wealthy heiress, ot great beauty and accomplish- ments, with whom he lived a long life of uninterrupted happiness. Rosina also married a gentleman who was every way worthy of her, and their days were passed in that felicity which cannot fail to be the reward where love and virtue are united. III. Three- fourths of a well known character, two- fifths of a coin, what's found on the sea- side, changing a letter, two- fifths of a disagreeable noise, and another term for strike, transposed. When these are rightly combin'd, A well- known work you will find. ANSWER TO RIDDLE IN NO. 24. Your first, a nap, I think you mean, And kins relation too, 1 ween ; When these taken, and combined, A NAPKIN is ihe word I find. C. WHITE.. REBUS. All you, whether resting or travelling, Whose delight is in rebus unravelling, Come tell me, I pray, Now do not say nay. My meaning without any cavilling. My first is a word oft express'd By monsieur when he comes neatly dress'd From Paris to London And sees a thing well done, Or hears a good song, tune, or jest. My next is destructive to fishes, With which it ofttimes fills your dishes. My whole lends a grace To a woman's face, Whether poor or adorned wilh riches. W. D. features Eiizoshert, to his horror, recognised those of that brother, who he had imagined was long before numbered with the silent dead. He fixed his dark piercing eye so- lemnly on his countenance, and then, in tones that made his guilty brother shudder, continued : — " Can yon any longer deny your guilt ? Dare you now persist in asserting your innocence? Villain, acknowledge your guilt,, and by repentance make some atonement lor the heavv crimes yon have committed. My sou, my own dear boy '." be added, turning eagerly towards the aston- ished and bewildered Richard, and fervently embracing hi in. " Father !" ejaculated tbe lad, " and have I then in- deed one ou whom I fan bestow that endearing title ?— Oh, Providence, your ways aie indeed wonderful '•" Nothing could equal the amazement which this re- markable circumstai ce caused amongst the persons pre- sent, and as the long divided father and son embraced each other, many who witnessed tbe scene were affected to teats. " Tear them asunder !— It is horror to mine eyes!" cried the guilty Fitzosbert, his eyes distended, and every limb palsied with terror ; " ( In not let them embrace- fools!— why do you hesitate .'— Nay, stand off— do not dare approach tliem ; do you not see that he is not ol this world ?— Look how the thick clotted blood stains his bosom !— All ! he is still there '— He mocks my anguish ! — Retribution '.— Retribution ! lie demands '.— There, do you not hear him ?— He approaches me,— do not let him grasp me'.— Will no one aid me against my ghastly foe? — Off'.— off'.— dread phantom of my murdered brother — I do acknowledge my guilt, but I cannot meet tby re- ptoachful gaze !— On, horror!" Overwhelmed with the power of his feelings, the wretched man sunk into the arms of the officers. Sud- denly his countenance became frightfully distorted, and he appeared to be struggling for breath. He attempted to speak but could not, and the next moment the blood gushed from his eyes, nose, and mouth ; he had ruptured a blood- vessel, and was evidently dying. He was immedi- ately borne into another ap u tment, and a medical man sent for with all possible expedition, but before he ar- rived, the wretched Fitzosbert was no more. CONCLUSION. Algernon Earl Fitzosbert, was of course reinstated in his rights, which had so long been usurped by bis guilty aud unnatural brother, whom he interred with all the pomp be was entitled to by his rank, and with him be buried all recollection of tbe wrongs he had done him On the night that he had left the cottage belonging to the sister of Mat, for the purpose of taking a walk, be was seized hy a press gang, and iu spite of his remonstrances, and declaration of his rank in society, forced on board H ship. Not long had he been nut at sea, when he was taken by an Algeriue corsair, and sold for a slave ; from which he had only lately made his escape, after enduring, great hardships, and returned lo England with a deter- mination of seeking out his son, and demanding the resti tution of his lights. As has been seen, Providence hap- pened to direct bis footsteps to the very place where Mat resided and his loug lost son. He immediately made himself known to him, but thought it prudent not to make Richard acquainted with tbe strange surprise that CHARADES. I. My 20, 1, 8, 17, 18— is always seen in a 7,2, 8, 5 12. 9. 18 ; my 12, 10, 16, 8— is a part of a bouse ; my 7,3, 13, 16— belongs to a 1, 5, 7 ; my 2, 5, 7— is seen above Ihe 8,3, 9, 11 ; my 7, 15, 4, after 11, 3, 10, 16, 20— on tbe 19, 8, 3 ; my 6, 5, 4, 7— is seen in the 20, 12, 9, 8, 18, 7, 11 ; my 1, 3, 9, 5, 7— is a weight my 1,5, 19,7,3, 17,8, 12, 11— are used by dancers my 5. 6, 12— is a pait of a drama ; my 8, 5, 9, 16 and my 11, 10, 9— are 12,10,7, 16, 8,20; my 6, 5, 11,7 15, lfi, 16,8, 12— is a small I, 15, 20, 12^ 16, 18; my 6,2, 8, 20, 11— is a game; my ' 2, 15, 4. 18, roy 3, 20 11, my 7, 18, 9, 4, 10, S, 9, and my ! 2, 3, 17, 9, 8, 1— are quadrupeds; my 17, 13, 16, IS— is in Egypt ; my 9,8, 19, 12— is often required ; my 16, 10, 17, 17, 8, 12, and my 7, 18, 15, 16— are birds ; my 1, 3, 4, 6, 15, 17, 8, 12— is s chain of jewels; my 20, 7. 3,9, 19 — are seen above; my 1, 15, 11,20, 10, 5— is a sweet spice ; and my 7, 5, 16, 18— is often read. My entire is a word o. f twenly letters, which 1 leave the reader to discover. ALEXANDER. IL My 6, 12, 9,2,1,14,12,5,7,16, 19— is surprise; my 4, 19, 7, 8, 14, 10,11— is used in ships of war ; on a 16, 12, 4, 6,9, 16. we like to see a fine 7, 6, 1, 12, 14, 2; my 3, 16, 8, 2, 15, 4, 16, 3— is a useful person ; my 7, 10, 4, 14, 10, 1, is often nude by my 12, 16.1, 6, 4, 2 15; my 16, 11, 4, 14, 3, 16— is wh » te; my 7, 2, 9, 5, 16, 3— is a near relative : :>\ 12, 5, 14, 15, 9 - is a gar- ment ; my 4, 16, 7, 8, 4, ft, 9,14, 2 — is what we should not give into ; my 4, 16, 6, is what we often get of my 12, 5, 2, 8, 7, 6,1 ; my 8, 16, 15, 12, 14, 6- is a king- dom; my 3, 10, 12, 16— is a flower; my 2, 4. 13, 10— isaking; we like always to have 14, 1,4,14,7,6,9, 11, 2, 11, Ofa 12, 4, 10, 15, 7 ; my 2, 7, 1, 14. 8, 10, 9, 16, II, 4— is what no man ever was or ever will be ; and my whole is a county in England. lt. S. M., Dublin. III. I am a word of fifteen letters— My 14, 9, 5, 12, 8, 4— may be found at Mount Vesuvius; my 2, 5,7— is part ofa man's wearing apparel; my 6,2,5, 11, 7,8 — is what every young lady ought to be ; my II, 3, 9, 5, 2— is a female name ; my 4, 10, 14, 8 — is frequently used for puddings; my 6, 2, 5, 9, 12— is frequently used at sea ; my 15, 2, 8, 5,9, 11, and 2,5, 7, 14, 2, 8, 12— are. cutting instruments; ray 4, 3. 1, 8— is a sport- ing amusement; my 7,5, 9— is used on board of ship; my 11, 3,9— is a kind of vehicle ; ray 15, 2, 8, 8, 12, 11 is a part of bed- clothing ; my 10, 6, 8— may be fre- quently seen in the winter ; my 3, 9, 12, 10, 15, 7— is a profession; my 6, 3, 7, and 2, 5, 9. 8, and 2, 5, 9, 12— are animals; my 6, 3, 11,2— is what 1 hope none of my readers are without; and my tvhole has never yet been known to escape the notice of biographical authors. PKGLER. IV. I - am a word of fourteen letters.— My 6, 7, 2, 13— is a useful thing in a house; mv 8,11,9. 12, belongs to my 10,1, 8; my 6 , I, 8, and' 6, 11,2, 12— aie what children 3, 2, 11, i4, with; my 6, 1, 8, 4, 7— is very pleasant in warm weather; my 8, 1. 6,9, 8,4,5— is this name of a female ; my 6, 9, 6, 13, 9, 11— is a hea- then goddess; my 9, 8, 1, 12, 14— is the name of a country; my 10,4,7, 1* 8— is to defraud ; my reader bus, very likely, been often iu the 10, 9, 8, 4; my 4, 11, 6, 9, 8— is a dress; I hope my reader is 4, 11,3,3, 14, and 4, 7, 11,2, 8, 4, 14; my 4, 11,9, 2, and 9, 10, 7— are both found in the winter; my 2, 11,6,7, 13— is a direction; my 13. 7, 1— is a river ; my 13, 7, 7, 10, 4 — is a doctor; my 12, 9, 8, 8, 2, 7— is small; my 10, 2, 14, 8, 9, 7— is a heathen goddess ; my 3, 1, 10, 7— is a measure; my 3, 5, 9, 12— is a vessel; my 3, 11,2,5, 10,7— is for kings and queens ; my 3, 7,5. 10, 4—| s a fruit; my 3, 7, 7,2— is a celebrated politioian ; my 3, 13, 5,9, 10, 7— is a fish; my 11, 3, 3, 5, 13— is to fright; my I 1, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 6, 9, 13, 9, 8, H— is a desirable state; my II, 3, 3, 13, 7— is a fruit; my I, 8, 8, 9, 10— is an apartment in a house ; my 6, 1, 6, 6, 13, 7— is to make mischief; my 6, 11, 8, 8, 13, 7— is a Combat: my 6, 7, 7, 10,4— is tbe name of a tree; my 6, 7, 7, 8— is a garden herb ; my 6, 7, 13, 2, 7— is a gav young la dy; my 6,7, 13, 12, 14, 1, 10, 4, 7- U painful; my 6. 7, 8, 8. 14— is the name of a young per- former; my 10, 5, 6, 13,7— belongs to a ship; my 10, 11, 2, 9, 3, 4 — is a foreign title ; my 10, 5, 8, 10, 4— is to slop ; my 10, 4, 9, 5— is to cut; rnv 7, 10, 2, II, 8— is glory ; my 14, 1, 10, 4, 8— is a small ship; my 6, 11, 13, 2, 7, 8, 8, 7— is a dance ; and my whole is a form of referring to various things contained in a book. W. II. L. ANSWER TO THE REBUS IN NO. 23. In your whole 1 find What is to my mind A Glass. Omit a letter You've something better^- A Lass. By omitting another You'll plainly discover An Ass. J. H. G. A VISION. " Asleep at the dawn of the day, 1 dream'd what I cannot but sing."— COWPER. ' Twas in the solemn hour of night, and the winds went howling by. And the ow ls and bats all took their flight to the house of mortality ; That I stood upon the troubled beach, that lined a foam- ing sea. And a spectre rose within my reach, a ghastly form had he 1 He opened his shroud of glaring white, and raised a bony arm, I felt my knees knock wilh affright, for he held a dreadful charm 1 Tbe thing he held was a clanking chain, and be swang it to and fro, And Ihe waters hissed in the troubled main, and the wind sank whispering woe ! And ( he clouds grew black, and thunders roll'd, and tbe lightnings flashed around. And a horrid din Ihrough the heavens howl'd, that shook the trembling ground. My eyes went fearfully round and round, and I thought. of the world's end ; And I tried to escape, but I was bound, nor could I my fate forfend ! And I expected to see my God arise, and my sins un- number'd try, And I essayed to speak, and raised my eyes, but coulut not even sigh ! Then 1 looked again on the monster's shape, and his face was red with rage. And his mouth he oped with a hideous gape—" Ho I Ho ! ye imps assuage " Your furious yells and quick to me, from them cursed hovels bring, " Some thousands of wretches once as free, as the bold eagle's w ing 1" Thus SLAVERY spoke, and there rose a cry, as though hell's imps were free; Then a horrid shriek— and a sight that mj blood curdled up to see ! Before the demon thousands there stood, whilst others knelt and prayed, Anil others did sit in sulky mood pointing to their hacks so flayed ! The place where they stood wns cover'd with blood, and their chains were nought but gore, And devils at every step there stood who many blows gave full sore, And the groans of the slaves were dreadful to hear, and the monster laughed outright, " Ho ! Ho 1" lie cried, " we have now good cheer, full of gold shall we be to- night!'' But scarce hail he spoke when a light there came, and a joyous shout was given, And the monster shook as he saw the name " Liberty " shine from heaven 1 And the shackles fell,— and the slaves were free,— and Slavery fled in fear, For there came Justice and Liberty, with Britannia in their rear. Britannia spoke, and ber words were calm—" Whilst to Britain belongs the waves, '' By ihe help of her God, and her own right arm, she'll free the world of slaves." A. A. L. The following Porui. AR WORKS are Now Publishing by E. LLOYD, 30, Curtain Road, Shoreditch. NEW AND HIGHLY INTERESTING WORK. IN Weekly Numbers at ONE PENNY, and Monthly Parts at FOIJRPENCE, with splendid Engravings, FATHERLESS FANNY; on, THE MYSTERIOUS ORPHAN With No. l, is presented, THREE SUPERB ENCRAVINCS, GRATIS!! ANSWER TO A. A. L.' s CHARADE IN NO. 24. Your first is instant twenty- third a bassoon, Your seventh turnabout, your thirtieth is noon ; Your eleventh is a button, thirty- seventh a kiss, Twenty- first is a saint, twenty- second basis. Your fifth is transition, your eighth is 11 star, Twenty- seventh is riot, nnd tenth it is tar ; Your twenty- fourth rust, thirty- second is satin, Your second in bias, and twenty- ninth's basin. Your thirteenth is onion*, and sixteenth is bran, Thirty- eighth is Anna, thirty- ninflj is Susan ; Your fifteenth's raisons, and thirty. fourth is roan, Your ihirty- third is rib, and twenty- fifth is iron, Your twenty- eighth is roar, and eighteenth is baron. Your third is brass, and your fourteen'h buns, Your sixth is rant, and your nineteenth barns ; Your thirty- fifth is rut, and fourth initiation, Your twenty- sixth relates to our great and potent nation : [ ATION And your whole is nothing short of TRANSUBSTANTI- TO you, Mr. Editor, I wish every luck, And beg you'll accept of my thanks for your book. GEO C N. Part 3 is now ready. THE OUTCAST: ELA, OUTCAST; OR, THE GIPSY GIRL OF ROSEMARY DELL. A Tale of the most thrilling Interest. In Penny Weekly Numbers and Fourpenny Monthly Paris. Steel and Wood Engravings. RIDDLES BY J. II, G. 1. Of " O, Mine Peter"' I am compos'd ; And to man's salvation an essential, when transpos'd. II. I am two words, namely, New Door, Transposed, 1 am one word, and no more. CHEAPEST SCIENTIFIC WORK PUBLISHED. THE PROPRIETOR OF THE MECHANIC AND CHEMIST HAS MUCH PLEASURE IN STATING That this Work has received the approbation of Her Most Gracious Majesty, and that it now occupies a place in the Royal Library. V OW PUBLISHING in Weekly Penny L ' Numbers, or in Monthly Parts, Price Sixpence, full of Original Papers and descriptive Engravings, treating on, and illustrative of, every new Achieve- ment in Science and the Arts, THE MECHANIST AND CHEMIST. Vol. II. of a new Series commenced on Ihe 2nd of May, 1840. Vols. I. II. III. IV. & V. uniformly bound in cloth, gilt lettered, each containing about Eighty engravings, with a Steel Frontispiece, price 4s. 6s., continue on Sale at the Publisher's, or may be had of any Book- seller. Bergcr, Holy well- street, Strand. London: Printed and Published by E. LLOYD, 30 Curtain Road, Shoreditch ; and at 44, Holywell Street, Strand.