THE HALIFAX MAY 13, 1843. FREE PRESS. No. XXXVII. Price One Penny. And now the time in special is, by privilege, to write and speak what may help to the further discussing of matters in agitation. The Temple of Janus, with his two controversal faces, might now not unsignificantly be set open: and though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and falsehood grapple. Who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter. Her confuting is the best and surest suppressing.— MILTON'S AREOPAGITICA. TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS. The publication of the Free Press will be sus- pended, after the present number; and our Subscribers will be duly informed of its re- issue, when arrangements for that purpose shall have been completed. It is hoped that, when resumed, our weekly miscellany will be rendered more interesting to its readers, and more efficient as an organ of public opinion. ADVERTISEMENT. GENTLEMEN'S BEST LONDON BEAVKR HATS— J. ECKBRSLEY respectfully invites the attention of Gentlemen to his superb Stock of Best Beaver Hats, ( just received from Three of the most eminent Houses in London,) which for lightness, durability, and colour in particular, Btand quite unrivalled. Cash Price, 21s. s Beautiful Stuff Hats, from 12s. to 16s.! the Rich French Velvet Naps, on Stuff Bodies, from 10s. to ISs.; Gossamer, and other Hats equally cheap. 25, Crown Street, Halifax, opposite the Upper George Inn" PUSEY1TE LITERATURE. We return to the Rev. J. M. Neale's " Songs and Ballads for the People;" and as we shall not, for the present, have an opportunity of carrying out our original intention to going through them, song by song, we must select such portions as seem to throw the clearest light on the views and doctrines of the party to whom the writer belong. The first song, entitled " The Church of England," was given, at length, in our last number. We shall now transcribe a few more, premising that the italics a. id capitals are the author's, and not our own. II. The Teetotallers. 1 And so the Teetotallers meet here to- day ! Well I t . ey talk very big, and they look very gay ; And they tease me to join them from inoruing till night ; But first I've one question, and that's— Is it right ? 2 They talk a great deal about taking the vow, How they once used to drink, and are temperate now ; Well ! I can't see the virtue, or glory at least, Of promising not to turn into a beast. 3 Orsupposing there were,— they have taken before All the vows they now take, ay, and very much more: Not from drinking alone, but all sin to abstain ; When they first were baptis'd— and why take it again ? 4 God's command is what all men at onceshould obey, Not to drink to excess ;— do they keep it? Not they ! They make a new vow for themselves, and then think They are vastly good Christians in keeping from drink I 5. I should just like to ask these same excellent men. Why they vow but to keep one command out of ten ? Why, a man may lie, curse, steal, or swear, if he will, And yet be a perfect Teetotaller still! 6 It is just the same thing as if I were to say, " My boys, go and work in my orchard to- day: There is plenty of fruit on the trees— but take care That you don't, for your lives, touch an apple or pear." 7 Says Jack, " Oh! no, fathe* I But don't you mistake— We won't touch the fruit,— but it's noi for your sake : It's because WE'VE AGREED not an apple to pick 1" D'ye think I should thank Lim, or give him the stick ? 8 Or suppose that young Bill, like a rogue, should reply: " Touch the apples ? your apples ? dear father, not I ! Touch the applet who Will, I for one won't go shares;"— I should think, why, most likely he'll set on the pears. 9 There is but one vow GOD commands us to take, When we first are baptis'd, which we never must break ; So may those who make new ones be left in the lurch ! There's but one Temp'rance Union, and that is— the Church ! Here we have the Puseyite doctrine of the all- sufficiency of Baptism so stated us if it formed the sole and entire duty of the Christian. III. Why don't you go to the Meeting ? The Mother's Answer. 1 You may tell me of the meeting where you Dis- senters go; You may tell me of the liberty that you Dissenters know; I'm little of a scholar, but the question is not long,— For he who stays away from cliurch, 1 know, is going wrong : THERE IS A WAY THAT SEEMETH RIGHT, the holy Scripture saitb, IN A MAN'S OWN EYES, as yours does now, BUT THE END THEREOF IS DEATH. 2 The fine old church ! I love it well, with its towers so tall and grey ! There it has stood, where now it stands, five hundred years, they say ; The greatest joys that I have known, or griefs I've had to bear, The warmest feelings of my heart, they have every one been there : Shall I leave it and my Prayer- book now, to go with you and look At the preacher whom you tell me of, that prays without a book ? 3 My father and my mother in yonder churchyard lie; And as they brought me up, I mean, by GOD'S good help, to die ; I think ' twould almost grieve their souls, though I hope they are in bliss, After all their teaching and their prayers, if I could come to this : Their fathers loo, before them, were churchmen all their days ; I'll never be the first to turn to your new- fangled ways. 4 It was in church, that happy day, the happiest df my life, That my husband said, " I TAKE THEE TO BE MY WEDDED - WIFE, To HAVE AND HOLD, FROM THIS DAY FORTH, IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH, FOR BETTER AND FOR WORSE, AND IN WANT AS WELL AS WEALTH :" And I scarcely think, whatever you Dissenters choose to say. That she's an honest woman who weds another way. 5 My baby too! my darling one ! you know not what I felt, When with godfathers and godmother beside the Font I knelt; And the Parson took him in his arms, and the Church's prayers were said, And the water sprinkled on his brow, and the Holy Cross was made ; And all the congregation seetn'd to welcome me again, Giving thanks to GOD, ' WHO brought me through my peril and my pain. 6 And when my precious baby died, I followed while they bore His little coffin to the church, and then I wept no more ; How could I but take comfort, when I heard from GOD'S own word, The text that calls them BLESSED WHO ARE SLEEP- ING IN THE LORD ? No! I will keep the good old paths that all good men have trod ; And I never can forget my Church, till I forget my GOD ! In this ballad, the claims of the church are not rested upon any scriptural foundation, but upon its antiquity,— the building being 500 years old; and upon its being the family burial- place. The Prayer book is spoken of, as a thing that ought not to be deserted; but there is not a word about the Bible being adhered to. Tbe insinuation that the marriages of dissenters are only legalized adultery, is an embodi- ment of the sentiment of the so- called " LeedsTract;" and it shows what respect these churchmen have for the law of the land, when it does not exactly square with their interests and their bigotry. IV. Why don't you go to the Meeting f The Child's Answer. 1 Oh no ! I dare not turn away, As you would have me do ; I dare not leave GOD'S House to day, To go to meeting too. 2 In church GOD always waits, I know, To bear His people's prajer ; But in the place to which you go, His presence is not there. 3 GOD'S Priest in church for GOD doth stand ; And when the prayers begin, The LORD will give me, at his hand, Forgiveness of iny sin. 4 But who taught others how to pray ? Who gave them power to preach ? Ob, this indeed is not the way That GOD'S own word doth teach! 5 Do not the lioly Scriptures show— ( We know the story well) Why Korah once, and Dathan too. Went down alive to bell ? 6 And did not GOD strike UzzaU dead, Because, through over- care, Upon the ark his hand he laid, Which only Priests might bear ? 7 And Saul's sad end might make us wise, Whom GOD in anger slew, Because he offered sacrifice, Which only Priests might do. 8 In church I was baptis'd ; I'll praise In church the LORD most high ; In church I'll serve HIM all my days, And in the church I'll die. 9 ' Tis there I love His name to bless, And there to hear His word ; HOW CAN I DO THIS WICKEDNESS, AND SIN AGAINST THE LORD ? Here the Priest is substituted for God, and made to dispense absolution for sins! To " go to meeting " is spoken of as " wickedness " and " Sin against the Lord," in language that is used in the Scriptures, with reference to the most abominable crimes. If tb dissent from the church be so great a sin, how came the Church of England to dissent from that of Rome, and to set up for herself? V. Beating Bounds. 1 So rare a sight was seldom seen, This pleasant month of Ma*-, sir : There's not a soul hut's on the green,— We beat the bounds to- day, sir. There's much to do by night, it's true: But what of that ? Fine weather, And mirth, and sport, make long ways short, To friends that walk together. Chorus. And mirth and sport make long ways short, To friends that walk together. 2 Round and about, and in and out, Right carefully we'll tread, sir; Behind's the school, let loose from rule; The Parson's at the head, sir. So up the lane, and by the brook. And o'er the beaten track, sir ; And past the mill, and o'er the hill, And so again come back, sir. Chorus. And while we walk, good hearty talk We lads will never lack, sir. 3 The parish- bound that we go round Has been the very same, sir, A thousand years, since first of all The parish bad a name, sir. I've heard our Parson say that then, Could you have gone to search, sir, You might have seen, upon the green, The very same old church, sir. 2 THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. Chorus. Upon the green you might have seen The very same old church, sir. 4 There's been a mighty change since then : ' Tivould make a man despair, sir, To count up eacl) new- fangled name Of townships here and there, sir. Well, they who made them think they've hit On methods somewhat rarish 5 But as for ine, there'll never be A name to match the parish ! Chorus. No name like that! the word's so pat!— A good old English parish! 5 Dissenters say— and so they may— Their system all surpasses ; In mighty state of schools they prate, Of meetings and of classes. But, to my mind, you cannot find. By hunting near or far, sir, Any beside the parish plan To make us what we are, sir. Chorus. There's none beside the parish plan Could make us what we are, sir. 6 That is the band which through the land Unites the great and small, sir : The parish school, tbe parish church, The parish Priest, and all, sir. Talk of the fame of England's name! Her glory will be o'er, sir, If meetings stand through all the land, And churches are no more, sir. Chorus. If e'er that day should come, in clay May I be wrapt before, sir. Having, in the preceding songs, defined the faith of a churchman,— viz. a belief in the saving efficacy of baptism and the sin- lorgiving power of the priest; our balladmonger next comes to the practical duties of a churchman ; and the first is, we see, beating the parish bounds! There's none beside the parish plan Could make us what we are, sir ! VI Pews. 1 Come, list to me, neighbours ! come, list to my song ! Our Parson is right, and the parish is wrong : He wants to take down all the pews, as you know; He has plenty of reasons, and good ones, to shew ; And I'll make them so clear, that there's none shall refuse To join him in crying— Away with the pews ! 2 ' Tis a shame to behold how the aged and poor, Who have right to good places, are thrust to the door; If such as have pews may but sit at their ease, The poor they may stand, or not come, as they please : So whoe'er loves the helpless and poor, can't but choose To pity their lot, and cry— Down with the pews ! 3 In the dwelling of peace it is monstrous to see What complaining and fighting for pews there can he ; For those who have one always think that ' tis bad ; And those who bave none, always wish that they had : So whoever loves quiet and peace, can't refuse To take away quarrels by outing the pews ! 4 Some folks, who are never at church, keep a box, Their own, ( as they call it) with bolts, keys, and locks ; The pews are quite empty : but look what a band Of poor and of aged parishioners stand •' So whoever hates dogs in the manger, can't choose But join in my ditty, and out with the pews ! 5 ' Twas a humble old custom to kneel side by side. But pews came at first of contention and pride : And those wicked men who invented tbe thing, They pull'd down the churches and murder'd their King : So whoe'er loves old customs can never refuse To vote in the vestry for outing the pews! 6 And then rich and poor, as the way was of yore, Will have ail the same seats, free and open once more : ' Twas a rare wicked system ; but now it has pass'd, And our country has found out its mischief at last Open seats in all churches ! and none must refuse, FOR ENGLAND HAS SAID IT— Away with the pews ! The attack upon pews, made by the clergy of the Puseyite school, seems to us to have a two- fold object;— one, to conciliate the poor, as though such a mockery as the offer of an open seat could do that; and the other, to abolish a system which is, they are well awaie, the means of supporting the dissenting places of worship, where the main revenue generally arises from pew rents. The clergy are, however, very much in error if they think that this paltry device will either add to the stability of the church, or weaken the hold the dissenters have upon the people. What a picture, too, does the Rev. gentleman give of the aristocracy of his own party, when he represents them as " fighting for pews 1" Pews, it will be observed, are spoken of as the in- vention of those " wicked men" who " pull'd down the churches and murder'd their king." Thisattempt to fix the adoption of pews upon the old Puritans is as base and false as it is absurd, Pews could not, surely, be devised by those who " pull'd down the churchcs," could'they, Parson Neale? VII. The Church Rate. Throw out the Church- rate I " Live and learn" The proverb well may saj : I never heard of such a thing, And trust I never may. I know that Church- rates are a debt To GOD ALMIGHTY due ; And how dares any Christian man Call them a hardship too ? A hardship to repair the house Where HE is pleas'd to dwell ? Where in His pence our fathers rest, And we shall rest as well ? Where all His blessings we receive, Where all His word we learn : These are the gifts HE gives us there, And this is our return. The very man who for his rate A sixpence will not pay, Will spend upon his house and self His twenty pounds a- day : Of all good things he'll bave the best, And must be serv'd tbe first; While HE WHO gave him all he has May have, for hiin, the worst. Where is the man who docs not hate All falsehood and deceit ? And lie who will not pay his rate, 1 think a downright cheat. He bought his land for less, because That rent- charge on it lay; And so he cheats the seller now By doing it away. Our fathers spent both time and gold, And so our church they built; And if we cannot keep it up, ' Twill be our shame and guilt. The parish that can sink to that Will go from bad to worse ; And for a blessing in their church Will find a very curse. The statement that " church rates are a debt to God Almighty due," accords better with the sub- stitution of the Priest for God, than with the law of the land or the scriptures. No 8, " God speed the plough," and No 9, " The Fisherman's Song," we pass by, as they contain nothing worthy of particular remark. Their purport seems to be that attention to our worldly callings is that duty the discharge of which the Almighty will chiefly bless. X. Village Politicians. I So they'redown at the Chequers, and at it once more I Onr rare politicians, they'll never give o'er I And when they have done, they're as wise as before ; Which nobody can deny. There's nothing on earth that they don't under- stand ; The corn laws, the taxes, the state of the land ; But tbe charter's the thing they have mostly in hand : Which nobody can deny. A clever contrivance that charter must be, To make a whole nation wise, glorious, and free' But how'twill be done, they don't rightly agree; Which nobody can deny, They would fain do away all the corn laws, and think It would cheapeD provisions, their meat and their drink ; And forget that their wages would equally sink : Which nobody can deny. Vote by ballot, with other rare changes, they'd have ; That coward's contrivance all cowards to save, That makes a man, whether or no, like a knave : Which nobody can deny. There they wrangle and prate of their hardships and wrongs; To the " Weekly Dispatch," too, they listen by- throngs ; Which I, for my part, would not touch with the tongs : Which nobody can deny, Now I think, though ' tis vain to dispute about taste, That none but a madman would run in such haste, His time, and his health, and his money to waste : Which nobody can deny. 8 All tbe care that I take for the State is to pray My best lor the Church and the Queen every day; And I know nothing more, and I hope never may Which nobody can deny. The last verse of this, is the only passage that deserves notice. It furnishes a delightful specimen of the ignorance in which the Puseyites would bring up the people, if they had the control of popular education. XI. The English Yeoman. 1 I am an English yeoman I And my father's lands I hold ; For a hundred years, and more than that, Tliey have never been bought or sold ! I sit by the same old hearth as they, I rest in the same old seat; And storms, when they roar on a winter's day, On the same old gables heat. 2 They never knew an empty house When Christmas- tide drew near ; And they never knew an empty hand At any time o* til* year : They kept up good old customs, As every month came round ; They paid their tithes at Easter, And at Whitsun beat the bound. I am an English yeoman ! And we yeomen know no change : Though nnti- corn- law lecturers About the country range ; We laugh at them, and such like rogues, And let them have their way ; For we know the good old proverb— " Give every dog bis day ! " We never drive the hungry From our hearth and from our door ; We never built the unions Wherein they starve the poor : We keep up good old customs, And are never over- nice ; For while we have one loaf of bread, The poor shall have a slice. i I am an English yeoman ! And I glory in the name, That since old England was a state Has ne'er been mark'd with shame. They loved the Church for many a day, Ay, and we love Her still ; So let who may be turn'd away, We yeomen never will. S Though Baptists, Chartists, Infidels, Have set upon Her sore; Wesleyar. s, Independents, And other sects a score ; Yet how can we forsake Her, When She alone hath power To guard and guide us while we lire, And bless our dying bour ? 7 I've heard that English yeomanry In battle- fields have stood, And would not flinch a single inch, Although the ground ran blood. To find the thing they dare not do, You'd think would want long search : I'll tell you, and I'll tell you true,— They dare not leave their Church ! Attachment to the clutre. h, hating dissenters, paying tithes, Heating bounds, and knowing no more than their fathers did before them, are the Christian and social duties here taught by this clerical bigot. XII. Why are you a Dissenter t 1 Come, listen to me, neighbours 1 And I'll tell you ot the way Dissenters set about it When they make a grand display ; And when my story's finish'd, I'll he vastly well content, If you will but be pcisuaded To fly from all dissent. 2 A man is disappointed Of a pew he wants, or so ; " If this must be the way," says lie, " To church I'll never go : The Parson tried to spite me, And so I'm fully bent That I will spite the Parson By setting up dissent." 3 He looks about for converts ; And so with much ado, And perhaps a little money, He picks tip one or two : They were always noted grumblers, And to church they never went; For that's the sort of people That are readiest for dissent. 4 There are two or three who join them, And readily come in, Because tbe Parson told them They were living on in sin : They take the thing in dudgeon, And so are well content— For teachers dare not blame them, Who live by their dissent. 5 They get a famous preacher, Who comes in baste from Town, Lest what he calls the int'rest Of Dissenters should go down ; They pay him for his sermon, Bat the money's only lent ; For it brings them a collection In aid of their dissent. 6 He praises all they're doing ; But thinks it a disgrace They've so poor a room for preaching,— They should build a better place. An Elienezer Chapel Would be just the thing he meant; So very grand, and useful In helping on dissent. 7 With driving and with scraping, And- with screwing from tire poor, ( They spare their own dear pockets,) They ger a little store ; But before the meeting's finished, The money's gone and spent; And they find that it's expensive To set on foot dissent. 8 But they raise a mighty clamour, And they try to blind men's eyes With tales about the Parsons, And half a score such lies ; To be sure it looks like sinning1, But they say it's all well meant ; And without a little falsehood, Who could hope to teach dissent i 9 And when it ft done, what follows ? Why morning, noon, * nd night* 146 THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. There's quarrelling and brawling, Who's wrong and who is right: Sedition and rebellion Find a very easy vent; And farewell to peace and order In the place that has dissent! This outrageous caricature " f the causes of dissent, and the principles and characters of dissenters, is too contemptible for any comment. The thirteenth of these exquisite ditties is called " the White King's Funeral;" and the fourteenth, " the Martyrdom of Archbishop Laud." The praises of Charles the First and Archbishop Laud come well from such pens as Mr. Neale's. The funeral of the d capitated Stuart is represented as taking place on a winter- night, when " the snow fell fast." The good King Charles ! it was meet that he Whose reign on earth below Had lieen spotless and pure as pure could be, Should have now a crown of snow. This, it may be recollected, is said of the tyrant who attempted to levy taxes without the consent (, f parliament, and who plunged the country into a civil war, as the only alternative besides su mission to absolute and unchecked despotism. The persecut- ing Laud is represented a pious martyr, suffering for the cause of religion I There are two other ballads ; but they co- itain nothing worthy of notice. The great length to which this article has extended, precludes farther quotation; and there is no need of additional comment. LETTER ON THE EDUCATION BILL. By the Rev. Dr. Campbell. " This is not the cause of faction or of party, or of any individual, but the common interest of every man in Britain."— Junius. TO THE ENGLISH NATION. Junius, in dedicating to you his Letters, reminded you, that " both liberty and property are precarious, unless the possessors have sense and spirit enough to defend them." " Let ine," says he, " exhort and conj. ire you ' never to suffer an invasion of your poli- tical constitution, however minute tbe instance may appear, to pass by, without a determined, perseve- ring resistance. One precedent creates another They soon accumulate, and constitute law. What yester day was fact, to- day is doctrine." An experiment of a most alarming character is now being made upon your " spirit." If you are wearied of your liberties, and deem them no longer worth defending, you may soon lie freed from your burden Chains are alwavs ready for the man who is disposed to wear them ! If the amended Bill of Sir James Graham shall become law, you are undone! That Bill contains principles which only require expansion, utterly to annihilate British freedom, and to convert England once more into a house of bondage ! Scotland and Ireland, equally with you, therefore, are vitally interested in this momentous question. Viewed in its utmost limits, and carried to its last results, it is, moreover, not a matter which affects Dissenters merely, but also Churchmen, who owe their stock of civil liberty to tbe Nonconformists of England The temporal in- terests of both classes are one and inseparable, Should the liberties of Dissenters perish, those of Churchmen will not survive them a single day! The Dissenters, heretofore, have been tbe salt of our soil and the lights of society. Let them only be destroyed, no matter liy what means, corruption and darkness will immediately follow, wilh thraldom and terror iri their train. It is, therefore, your interest and your wisdom, as one man, to aid by every means in main- taining their liberties in all their integrity. The Church by law established, is tbe natural enemy of your freedom. Remember this, and take it as an axiom, that, whatever elevates tbe clergy, in tbe same proportion depresses you. Your interests are wholly different and adverse. The Church, then, is your uniform arm unalterable adversary ; and it, therefore, behoves you to watch all her movements with a sleep- less jealousy. Hut, while you are in constant danger from her, that danger is always fearfully augmented when she is on friendly terms with the government of tlie day. What then must be your slate of peril, when that government is her vassal, and its Premier her bondsman? Should she have given liiui the helm, it follows that he holds it ( luring her pleasure ; tinr) what she gave she can take away. Every such Premier must pay her tbe price of his promotion ; and her l av is, that he must pay in kind — power for power. The party who now rules you, after a long exclusion from office, by her aid have regained their seats, and the hour of her recompense is at length come. Sir James Graham's Bill is her first great in- stalment. This is a Clin ell extension Bill of the most magnificent description. If it pass, it is the death- warrant of your liberties ! Englishmen ! a crisis has at length come. When that Bill first appeared, your peril was great: that peril is now far greater since its amendment. The cloud then wns as a man's hand ; it now covers the firmament, emitting baleful fires, and charged with the elements of destruction ! The Government, of course, prior to the publication of the Bill, well knew that it could not be other than most offensive to tin se of you who dissent from the Established Church Ignorance, however, of the views arid feelings of Dis- senters might then be pleaded ; but to all such pleas there is now an end. From every part of the nation they have spoken in tones of indignation and alarm. Hundreds of thousands have lifted up their voices and protested against that Bill. They have proclaimed it te be an infringement at once of civil and of religious liberty. The petitioning has been without parallel- But petitions are not tbe only means by which the Ministry have been enabled to ascertain the opinions of the Nonconformists. Deputation after deputation have waited upon Sir James Graham and Sir Robert Peel, and reasoned with thein, on the impolicy, in- justice, and cruelty of the proposed measure. It was after this general demonstration that the Secretary of State stood forth in the House of Commons, and an- nounced his amendments. What is their value ? The amount of concession is apparently great, bul of comparatively little real value. The main grounds of complaint are still undiminished. What Sir James Graham tenders, we did not solicit. Our cry was, Remove your gibbet! He replies by displacing a few props and minor appendages ot the scaffold, and, mounting the ladder with the bailer in bis band, de- livers a " condemned sermon " on Christian charity, prior to the pre- determined execution of freedom of conscience, and concludes with tbe expression of a hope that now we shall be satisfied ! The Amend- ments are not an answer to our prayer, but a mockery of it. The grounds of just alarm are now very much iucreased. Tbe Government, by these concessions, has shown not its respect, but its contempt, for public opinion. Unawed by the thunders of an indignant country, it abides by tbe principles of the Bill, and has already fixed tbe day for proceeding with it in committee. Well, if the perils of our position be increased, so is our light. There is now an end to false hopes, as well as to just expectations. Englishmen ! what are your intentions ? Is it your purpose calmly to how to the will of Sir James Graham, and allow him to load you with fetters. I anticipate your reply: you resolve on resistance to the uttermost. But what is your plan ? What method, upon the whole, do you deem best ? Will you wait till the Bill shall have passed through the Committee, and have been read the third lime ? Oi will you attack it after it is out of Committee, and just " before tbe third reading ? Or will you at once coiritnenceyour assaultwhile the Bill is in Commiliee, and continue your opposition so long as tbe Bill is in existence ? These are points on which men of equal worth and wisdom may, and actually do, differ ; and from the possibility and the fact of such difference, arise our further," and, indeed, at present, our greatest danger I humbly suuinit, however, that, all things Considered, the latter is tbe more advisable course. My counsel then is, up one and all— awake begird yourselves for the conflict, and with your utmost might bear down upon this iniquitous Bill by petitioning, in the strongest terms, for its with- drawal. For this course I assign the following reasons : — 1. The Bill admits of no satisfactory amendment. No possible modification, which would leave the general principles untouched, ought to allay your fears, or to mitigate your hostility. 2. While preserving the principles of the Bill intact, it is inipossib e to render it innoxious, or, to Dis- senters. unobjectionable. The voluntary withdraw- ment of the Bill is out of the question ; for it is an object of too great importance to the Established Church, for tbe government to Surrender it except under a strong plea of compulsion 3. If you remain silent, your silence will be turned against you; it will, and not without reason, be construed into acquiescence in ihe Amendments. It will embolden your adversaries ; it will depress your friends ; therefore, at onre speak out. 4. Should you, the Dissenters, rest, Churchmen, or at least the" Clergy, will labour, and do their best to ne- itralize you. That which is death to you, to them is wealth, power, and glory! 5. Yon will do well to assume that, on tbe ap- pointed day, tbe House will go into Committee; that tiie integrity of tbe measure will not there be at all affected ; that it will be presented for reading the third time, exactly, for substance, as it now stands. I therefore exhort you to renew immediately and universally tbe act of petitioning, for this plain reason, that tbe variations proposed do not at all affect tbe objectionable principles of the original Bill, so that your lirst petitions have entirely failed of accomplishing the desired result, and your work is to begin afresh. fi. Members of the House of Commons sav, Ihe Petitions they have received have now become ob- solete, and that, unless the country shall, after the same fashion, speak again, tbey will be at a loss what to do with the Bill in its amended form, or rather, that they will be compelled to take your silence for consent to its becoming law. This one point, is decisive of the whole question Unl-. ss you petition the Commons before going into Committee, it is useless to petition them at all, and your labour, were you then to do so, would be utterly thrown away. Englishmen ! on these grounds I beseech you by all thai is dear to you, whether in relation to civil or to religious liberty, to res.> rt immediately to the instru merit widi which tbe constitution has armed yon— tbe power of universal petitioning ! An awful emergency lias now arrived ; you have nothing more alarming and more perilous to wait for. Beware of delay ; it will be your destruction ! Take heed how you in- dulge an easy confidence ; it will issue in your certain overthrow ! They who, at this moment, counsel you to pause, expose you to perdition ! Forget not that both Houses of Parliament are now harmonised ; and that in each there is a sufficient majority to pass this Bill. If you fail in the Commons, where you have a few faithful friends, woe to you in the House of Lords, where you have not one to whom, in this matter, you can safely trust! If doomed both by the Commons and by the Lords, beware of reposing implicit con- fidence in the Crown. Such a circumstance would place Royalty in new and unusually trying circum- stances. Nor is this all ; it remains to be seen whether a female breast possesses courage sufficient to stand up in your behalf against the two Houses of Parliament, To talk of appeals to crowned heads, 3 3SSB answers well the purposes of rhetorical exhibitions ; but wise men, students of history, will deem those happiest who have least occasion to resort to such ex- tremities. The politics of princes, like those of their subjects, are liable to change, with this difference, that all their changes are toward Toryism. If they begin with this, they invariably end with it ; but if, in their youth, they embrace Liberal opinions, they almost, always abandon them before the meridian of liCe. Was not George the Fourth, in his early days, the friend of Fox and of Sheridan ? Whose friend was he in after years ? What has been, may be again ; therefore, I beseech you, beware ! Trust not in man, whether lord or commoner, prince or premier ; no, not even in Sir James Graham, when preaching peace, " Severely tender ! cruelly humane ! The chain to clinch, and make it softer sit" upon the bending neck of prostrate Nonconformity . Free- born Britons ! Let us oppose this Bill, by all constitutional methods, to the last extremity ! Let meetings in thousands upon thousands be convened over the whole country, and let light be spread through all clashes To understand the Bill is to abhor it. Let all, then, who condemn, petition against it. Repudiate, resent the doctrine of reserved forces. Its advocates may he, and no doubt are, honest men ; but it is humbly submitted, they are not safe guides. At this moment, to postpone the work of petitioning, would be to fall by your own hand ! Let nothing limit your efforts but your power. Petition again— and now— and everywhere— and in the greatest possible numbers ; and, above all, let every subscriber act from an intelligent, conscientious conviction of the danger attendant on this measure to civil and religious freedom. " O Freedom ! first delight of human kind ; Not that which bondsmen from their masters find !" Freedom, bought with your fathers' blood, and be- queathed to you with their last breath, will you not preserve it ? THE AUTHOR OF " JETHRO." THE NINE WISHES, OR THE NEAPOLITAN COURTSHIP. CHAPTER VI. The lovers speak the truth, and the story concludes'. Torn Blunt's opinion of the sex. The Baron bad engaged to be with her at ten pre- cisely, arid had never before broken an engagement; but now tbe clock struck, and heavily time moved on to a quarter,— then half past; and so, quarter after quarter, the chimes revealed what Wilhelmina could hardly credit, till noon was passed. " Something must have happened," she exclaimed. " How strange that I have never inquired where he lodges! But, somehow, one never thinks of such things abroad, about sing'e men." Then she faintly recollected what her footman had said, before breakfast, and summoned him to her presence ; but Tom Blunt was gone out, and, contrary to ail rules, had left no intimation of the time when he might be expected to return. So she continued dolefully counting the minutes till past one ; and then her ears were delighted by the well- known footsteps of the Baron ascending the stairs. Immediately he entered, she perceived he was em- barrassed, and, as she fancied, looked extremely ill. " What can be the matter, mon cher Baron'" she exclaimed, giving way to her momentary feelings. " I'm sure something terrible has happened !" " Oh! ves," he replied ; " sorceting, every ting, dam deal has happen !" " Well 1" thought Wilhelmina; " he can't speak plain English ; that's clear enough ; and perhaps it's. » s well, lie will now speak the truth." And then, addressing him with her wonted smile, she said", " Sit down. Don't flurry yourself. Tell me, dear Alphonse ! Is it anything in which I can assist you If so, you know how delighted I shall be." " Aii! Oh ! Yes!" he replied, suddenly brightening up. " It vos de money as I vant. If you have got him, it vill be very velcome ; for somebody tease me, and I not get your vatch as yon give me t'oder day,, and tell me to have him mended!" " I am really quite concerned," replied Wilhelmina. " The fact is that I had only two bills by me,— the- One which I gave you at the grotto, and another which I changed two days since, in order to make some purchases necessary on the present occasion : so I b- ive only these ten gold four- iiucat pieces :— if they will be of any use;—" and she held them out hesitatingly. " Tbey vos belter as noting," observed the Baron, carelessly taking and thrusting them into his waist- coat pocket, as he continued,.—" But you vill get, some more of de bill soon from Angleterre, I hope, perhap?" " Why, no," replied Wilhelmina. " The fact is that I shall not be able till we get to Paris. You know we ti'lked of going there." " Oh! dam'! It vos all de nonsense," exclaimed the Baron. " Monsieur le B,. ron !" cried the astonished Wil- helmina. " Did not you say that we should go by- way of Marseilles ?" " Bah 1" said the Baron. " De humbug is over. You hombug me. I hombug you. You give me de bill vid de name dobbel de you Jons, and 1 tink he is you, ven it vos de Villem, Anglais. Veil ! It is de best to tell to you as I no got de chateau, and not go to Marseilles; by cause I vos so cunning to escape ven I am at de galley, vere I am condemn for de littel blonder vot is no matter. No use as you pre- tend as you vill faint. I know better now all as you, vos de gouvernesse To. aiblone, de footyman, tell to, nit ail. Open my eye. De banket tell me fint tfaSt 4 THE HALIFAX FREE PRESS. Villem Jons draw de money all vot lie like, never no stop, bat Vilhelmine is nobodj'. Eli ? I find you out,— eli ?" Let imagination pair. t the lady's rage at this de- nouement. For a while she felt as though undergo- ing suffocation ; but, struggling hard, at last was enabled to use her tongue, and then she spared not the gay dpceiver. " Ugly, diminutive, insignifirant wretch" were not tbe most opprobrious epitln ts by which she saluted him in her philippic ; but they seemed to make the most impression, as he retorted,— " You sny I vos ugly and diminutif! Vot if I vere you? De beauty ! Look in de mirroir'. Never see noting so frightened, so affreuse ! You'd run away from it if she can. De nose vot go up in de air ; de eyes vot is vorse before dey be knocked black so as now ; and de mout and shin to follow. Go away I Get some husbands vere you can find him. Make de net for catch de oder Baron. Stop long time, no catch. Eh I mon ange ?" It is our melancholy duty to state that our ci- de- vant lovers, after exhausting all tbsir rhetorical powers, parted not without a personal collision very different from what they had been accustomed to practice. The cause was the lady's demandina her money, and the demurring, on the part of the false Baron, to comply with so reasonable a request. After vainly striving to get her hand into bis pocket, the enraged Wilhelmina seized him by bis ex- quisitely black, shining moustaches, which, being false likewise, yielded to her efforts, and remained in her hand, as her once beloved Alphonse nimbly made liis last exit from her presence. Miss Wilhelmina underwent, of course, one of those brief illnesses which follow either love disap- pointments or great excitation of mind ; and we sup- pose the latter to be the case, as she never made any further inquiries after the sham Baron, when she found there was no chance of recovering either her gold chain or her money. The watch was fortunately found at a pawnbroker's ; and, on application to tbe proper authorities, she was allowed to redeem it. It is almost needless to say that the necklace presented to her by her lover, was of false pearls. On recovering from her indisposition, she resolved to come to an understanding, and " make friends," with Tom Blunt. The honest fellow stood, uneasily shuffling himself about, whileshe returned thanks for the active part be bad taken, and acknowledged her own folly; and she was proceeding to hint how desir- able it would be to her that the affair should be kent secret, when he interrupted her by saying,— " Never thank me, Miss ; you're very welcome. I shan't say a word about it; not I. Master told me to do all I could to make you comfortable ; and so I've only done my duty. You was a little pig- headed, to be sure ; but I druv pigs when I war a boy j and when women- folk has got love- nonsense in their beads, they be pretty much the same. It's bard to keep ' em in the right road." What the marvellous stone really was, remains doubtful. Some have supposed that it was merely a scheme of the false Baron's for the purpose of ind uc- ing tbe lady to believe his flattery. Certainly, where both were willing to deceive, and each supposed the other blest with fortune's favours, it needed no mi- racle to make them believe, or feign to believe, the existence of beauty, good temper, and affection. So, after all, ic may have been hut a common pebble ; although certain lovers of the marvellous are disposed to think that it was a fragment of the celebrated Blarney stone, which an Irish gentleman brought from home with him, and threw away, when visiting the Sibyl's Grot, the day after his marriage with an English heiress. OUR SCRAP BOOK. " A thing of Shreds and Patches." POETRY. ORIGINAL. THE INQUIRY. Oh ! whence that look of gloom and sadness, Which I now so often see ? Where, oh I Where's thy former gladness 1 Lov* st thou others more than me ? Where are now those smiles which, gleaming, Lit thy face with youthful glee ? Where those looks with fondness beaming ' Lov* st thou others more than me? Often now I hear thee sighing, And the starting tear- drop see. Oh 1 blame me not, my love, for prying f Lov'st thou others more than me ? Halifax, May 2,1843. J. T— STANZAS. ' Twas eve, and the birds in their nests were doting, And the trees of the forest were hushed and still; The drooping flowers their leaves were closing, While the soft breeze loved at his own wild will, Stealing one kiss from the harebell's breast. Ere she sank on her leafy couch to rest. And whilst I stood, behold, a maid, Beauteous and bright as a poet's dream, Shone like a star through the darkening shade, Fair as the lilies that fringed the stream ; With graceful step she tripped along 1 Like a gleesome Fawn of the olden time; Roving the flowers and trees among. Like a lady fair In a minstrel's rhyme. I gazed ; and my soul was in my eyes, As they drank delight from her every charm i But oh what horror 1 what dread surprise Came o'er me 1 1 fled In wild alarm, For, from those lips so ripe and rosy. Came the awful sounds of—" Jim along Josey I" PROGRESS OF PENNY POSTAGE — It appears, by a return made to tbe house of lords, that tbe penny rate is now as productive to the revenue as the foilrper. ny rate was. This is an important fact in favour of low prices. THE WORD WHAT.—" What's o'clock?" is the first word which a sportsman says to his valet who awakens him ; " and what sort of a morning is it ?" " It is fine at present, sir ; but I should not wonder but what it will rain before night. What clothes will you wear to day ? and what horse is the groom to send to cover ? The cook also wishts to know what you would like to have for your breakfast, and at what hour you will dine ?" " What has she got In the larder?" is the next question of the master; who, when he arrives at the cover side, thus accosts a sporting farmer, whom he observes mounted on a promising young horse :—" What have you got here ? what is bis age?"— next, " what is his breed?" fourthly, " what is his height?"— and, lastly,— " what i » his price ?" " What a glorious morning for hunting !" observes one sportsman to another, " and what lying for a fox !" " Yes," replies tbe latter, " and what a fine pack of hounds!"— Fraser's Magazine. OLD WOOLLEN MART, IN LONDON.— Bakewell Hall, thus established, hath been long since employed as a weekly market place for all sorts of woollen cloths, broad and narrow, brought from all parts of this realm, there to be sold. In tbe twenty first of Richard theSecond, Richard Whittington, mayor, and in the twenty- second, Drew Barrington being mayor, it was decreed, that no foreigner or stranger should sell any woollen cloth but in Bakewell Hall, upon pain of forfeiture thereof.— Howel's Londinopolis. NOTE FOR PRINTERS AND DYERS.— Amongst other remarks made by me in the course of my many visits to tbe continent, I have always observed how very particular French, Germans, and Swiss are in tbe cboiceof alum, when they wish to produce fine Turkey reds, or pink, or, indeed, any delicate colour, where this mineral is used ;— they reject any thing like bot- toms, and pick out the verv brightest crystal. Price no object, if allowed to pick. They in general prefer the alum manufactured at either the Peak or Mul- grave Alum Works, both near Whitby, being more pure than any other known : great quantities are annually shipped from said works. There can be no doubt but that it is owing, in a great measure, to this caution they are enabled to produce such fine colours. — Scrap Book of a Chemist. COINAGE.— A parliamentary return, containing the expenses of the mint for the year ending March 31, 1843, states the salaried officers to have received £ 10.420. 17s.; the wages and allowances paid weekly, £ 3,095 17s. 6d.; contingent charges and expenses ( such as materials for work, coals, and charcoal, and rates and taxes), £ 6,529. 12s. 7d.; solicitor of tbe mint for prosecutions, £ 14,529.12s. 7d.; gratuities to the officers, for services on the China silver in 1842, £ 266 ; paid for assays of ingots for coinage, £ 1.014- 2s.; and charge for melting, £ 12,312. 18s lid. PHILOSOPHY OF HEAT.—" Well, my little fellow,'' said a certain principal to a sucking philosopher, whose mamma bad been teasing the learned knight to test the astonishing abilities of her boy ; " What are the properties of heat ?" " The chief property of heat is, that it expands bodies, while cold contracts them." " Very good, indeed : can you give me a familiar example ?" " Yes, Sir; in summer, when it is hot, the day is long ; while in winter, when it is cold, it becomes very short." The learned knight stopped his examination, and was lost in amazement that so familiar an instance should hare so long escaped his own observation. GIVING A LIFT.— A minister in the north had, Sunday after Sunday, been expounding the non- intru- sion question ; and preparatory to sending the subscription paper for his new kirk amongst bis parishioners, he sent an elder to sound them. The greater number of the parishioners declined having any thing to do with the matter, except one honest farmer, who at once promised to give tbe parson a lift. Shortly after, the elder came smirking into Ihe farmer's house with modest confidence, and unrolled his subscription paper; but, " dumbfounded he stood " when the farmer, shaking his head, expressed bis determination to give none of his money for new kirks and manses, as they had plenty of those in the parish already. " Oh, but you promised," said the elder, " to give the dear minister a lift." " So I did, and so I do now," replied tbe farmer; " he's get a' my horses and carts to carry away his furniture out of the manse whenever he likes ; and I'll e'en send my auld gig and mare to tak the wife an' bairns out o' the parish ; and if that's no gi'en him a lift, I dinna ken what is."— Scotsman. A RETURN TO HOME IN SWEDEN.— I came hither last evening. I cannot tell you how happy I am to he here again ; how delighted I am with my rooms, my cotton furniture; with what pleasure this morning I greeted the hole in the window curtain, and saw the day stream in through it. I drink in the air of my home in long deep breaths; for the atmosphere of a beloved home has a peculiar, a refreshing, and affecting charm. I have darted hither and thither the whole day like a flame of fire, on the ground floor, and into the cellar, into the barn and garden ; I have scolded and praised. With Sissa, and all that she has had under ber bands, I am extremely contented, but the housemaid is disoiderly and she must hear of it. Audumbla has got a calf, a bold little fellow, which, as is proper, I hare named Biir. I have greeted my flowers, and stood in wonder to see them so fresh, and so carefully tended. It touched me deeply to find tb » t Serena had been here regularly twice in the week to look after them. Dear, amiable Serena! I loved my flowers; I kissed lliem, they were so beautiful. I have cut cauliflowers for supper. In the day it had rained a little, and all in the garden stood fresh and full of fragrance, although tbe frost bad touched here and there a leaf with yellow. It is now evening, and I sit down to my writing- table. I have seen the swans furrow Ihe surface of the quiet lake, as they drew towards their nest on Svano. I have gazed on tlie grey walls of Ramm, within which I have lately passed through so much. I am happy and thankful. I await the return of my Bear from the city, where be has been the whole day, and have prepared for him my little feast. A duck from Ihe Helga shall display itself, large as life, on our little table, and in its train shall the cauliflowers and the freshest salad find themselves. Pancakes with rasperry jam will follow them with an agreeable grace. As the evening is cold, I have caused the sitting- room to be warmed, and Bear's well- lined dressing- gown and slippers to be displayed before the fire in a due state. I will spoil him ; and while I am yet waiting for the good man, I will describe to you some of the scenes ot yesterday.— Life in Sweden, by Frederika Bremer. VALUE OF HORSES' TAILS.— Horses' tails bave some value in commerce ; they furnish the long and fine hair used in making the bows of violins and similar stringed instruments. A large proportion of the hair thus used is brought from South America. Yet it must not be supposed that the wild horses of the Pampas have tails flowing in silky tresses of 28 inches in length ( and shorter hairs are useless) ; ou the contrary, their tails are torn, and ragged, and inexiricably matted with clay aud filth. But. within the clotted mass, the inner growth of hair forms for itself a small spherical chamber, where it lies iu regular folds, of greater length and much finer texture than belongs to the hair which grows exposed, and it has also the advantage ot being colourless. One good horse tail in London is worth as much as a dozen horses in the Pampas.— Athenaum. The annual income of the corporation of the city of London is £ 156,001 ; the total expenditure of all kinds, feasting not included, £ 150,979. It is stated, on good authority, that upwards of one million sterling per annum is expended on the turf. It appears that upwards of 1,000 horses were in training during the last season ; that 1,050 races have been contested, and £ 150,000 distributed among the winners. THE BLISS OF IGNORANCE.— Roman cement is but a recent substitute for lime at Maryport, and its first introduction is somewhat curious. A gentleman, only a few years ago, determining to avail himself of the virtues ascribed to it, ordered a few barrels from Liverpool, then tbe nearest market, and, lest tbe ignorant workman should bungle it in making up at home, requested that it might be sent ready mixed for use ! It is needless to add, that it remained " ready mixed" in the barrels ever since.— Maryport Locomi. tive. AERIAL TRAVELLING — The following passage will be found in the " Mathematical and Philosophical Works of the Right Rev. John Wilkins, late Lord Bishop of Chester," printed in London, by J. Nichol- son, in 1708. Wilkins flourished during the Com- monwealth and reign of Charles II. Page 132 :— " I do seriously and upon good grounds affirm it is possible to make a flying chariot, in which a man may sit, and give such a motion unto it as shall con- vey him through the air. And this perhaps might be made large enough to convey divers men at the same time, together with food for their viaticum, and com- modities for traffic. It is not the bigness of any thing in this kind that can hinder ils motion, if the motive faculty be answernble thereunto. We see a great ship swims as well as a small cork, and an eagle flies in the air as well as a little gnat. I conceive it were no difficult thing ( if a man had leisuie) to show more particularly the means of constructing it." FASCINATION.— Vairus, prior of the Benedictine convent of Sta. Sophia, published, in 1589, a Treatise on Fascination, wherein lie states, that huntsmen, as a protection against it, were used to split an oak plant, and pass themselves and their dogs between it. As amulets against love fascination, he recommends sprinkling with the dust in which a mule has rolled itself, a bone which may be found in tbe right side of a toad, or the liver of a cameleon. A WORD TO CONSERVATIVES.— If I were the con- servrtive party of ling land, I would not for a hundred thousand pounds an hour allow those corn- laws to continue ! Potosi and Golconda put together would not purchase my assent to them. Do you count what treasures of hitter indignation they are laying up for you in every just English heart? Do you know what questions, not as to corn prices and sliding scales alone, they are forcing every reflective Englishman to ask himself? Questions insoluble, or hitherto un- solved ; deeper than any of our logic- plummets hitherto will sound : questions deep enough— which it were better that we did not even name in thought! You are forcing us to think of them, to begin utter- ing them. The utterance of them is begun; and where will it be ended, think you ? When two mil- lions of one's brother- men sit in workhouses, and five millions, as is insolently said, " rejoice in pota- toes," there are various things that must be begun, let them end where they can.— Past and Present, by Thomas Carlyle. HALIFAX:— Printed and Sold, for the Proprietors, at the Conetal Printing Office of H. Martin, Upper George Yardh,