One night, when bitterer winds than oursOn hill-sides and in valleys low,Built sepulchres for the dead flowers,And buried them in sheets of snow,—When over ledges dark and cold,The sweet moon rising high and higher,Tipped with a dimly burning goldSt. Mary's old cathedral spire,—The lamp of the confessional,(God grant it did not burn in vain,)After the solemn midnight bell,Streamed redly through the lattice-pane.And kneeling at the father's feet,Whose long and venerable hairs,Now whiter than the mountain sleet,Could not have numbered half his prayers,Was one—I cannot picture trueThe cherub beauty of his guise;Lilies, and waves of deepest blue,Were something like his hands and eyes!Like yellow mosses on the rocks,Dashed with the ocean's milk-white spray,The softness of his golden locksAbout his cheek and forehead lay.Father, thy tresses, silver-sleet,Ne'er swept above a form so fair;Surely the flowers beneath his feetHave been a rosary of prayer!We know not, and we cannot know,Why swam those meek blue eyes with tears;But surely guilt, or guiltless wo,Had bowed him earthward more than years.All the long summer that was gone,A cottage maid, the village pride,Fainter and fainter smiles had worn,And on that very night she died!As soft the yellow moonbeams streamedAcross her bosom, snowy fair,She said, (the watchers thought she dreamed,)"'Tis like the shadow of his hair!"And they could hear, who nearest came,The cross to sign and hope to lend,The murmur of another nameThan that of mother, brother, friend.An hour—and St. Mary's spires,Like spikes of flame, no longer glow—No longer the confessional firesShine redly on the drifted snow.An hour—and the saints had claimedThat cottage maid, the village pride;And he, whose name in death she named,Was darkly weeping by her side.White as a spray-wreath lay her browBeneath the midnight of her hair,But all those passionate kisses nowWake not the faintest crimson there!Pride, honor, manhood, cannot checkThe vehemence of love's despair—No soft hand steals about his neck,Or bathes its beauty in his hair!Almost upon the cabin wallsWherein the sweet young maiden died,The shadow of a castle falls,Where for her young lord waits a bride!With clear blue eyes and flaxen hair,In her high turret still she sits;But, ah! what scorn her ripe lips wear—What shadow to her bosom flits!From that low cabin tapers flash,And, by the shimmering light they spread,She sees beneath its mountain ash,Leafless, but all with berries red,Impatient of the unclasped rein,A courser that should not be there—The silver whiteness of his maneStreaming like moonlight on the air!Oh, love! thou art avenged too well—The young heart, broken and betrayed,Where thou didst meekly, sweetly dwell,For all its sufferings is repaid.Not the proud beauty, nor the frownOf her who shares the living yearsFrom her the winding-sheet wraps down,Can ever buy away the tears!
One night, when bitterer winds than oursOn hill-sides and in valleys low,Built sepulchres for the dead flowers,And buried them in sheets of snow,—
When over ledges dark and cold,The sweet moon rising high and higher,Tipped with a dimly burning goldSt. Mary's old cathedral spire,—
The lamp of the confessional,(God grant it did not burn in vain,)After the solemn midnight bell,Streamed redly through the lattice-pane.
And kneeling at the father's feet,Whose long and venerable hairs,Now whiter than the mountain sleet,Could not have numbered half his prayers,
Was one—I cannot picture trueThe cherub beauty of his guise;Lilies, and waves of deepest blue,Were something like his hands and eyes!
Like yellow mosses on the rocks,Dashed with the ocean's milk-white spray,The softness of his golden locksAbout his cheek and forehead lay.
Father, thy tresses, silver-sleet,Ne'er swept above a form so fair;Surely the flowers beneath his feetHave been a rosary of prayer!
We know not, and we cannot know,Why swam those meek blue eyes with tears;But surely guilt, or guiltless wo,Had bowed him earthward more than years.
All the long summer that was gone,A cottage maid, the village pride,Fainter and fainter smiles had worn,And on that very night she died!
As soft the yellow moonbeams streamedAcross her bosom, snowy fair,She said, (the watchers thought she dreamed,)"'Tis like the shadow of his hair!"
And they could hear, who nearest came,The cross to sign and hope to lend,The murmur of another nameThan that of mother, brother, friend.
An hour—and St. Mary's spires,Like spikes of flame, no longer glow—No longer the confessional firesShine redly on the drifted snow.
An hour—and the saints had claimedThat cottage maid, the village pride;And he, whose name in death she named,Was darkly weeping by her side.
White as a spray-wreath lay her browBeneath the midnight of her hair,But all those passionate kisses nowWake not the faintest crimson there!
Pride, honor, manhood, cannot checkThe vehemence of love's despair—No soft hand steals about his neck,Or bathes its beauty in his hair!
Almost upon the cabin wallsWherein the sweet young maiden died,The shadow of a castle falls,Where for her young lord waits a bride!
With clear blue eyes and flaxen hair,In her high turret still she sits;But, ah! what scorn her ripe lips wear—What shadow to her bosom flits!
From that low cabin tapers flash,And, by the shimmering light they spread,She sees beneath its mountain ash,Leafless, but all with berries red,
Impatient of the unclasped rein,A courser that should not be there—The silver whiteness of his maneStreaming like moonlight on the air!
Oh, love! thou art avenged too well—The young heart, broken and betrayed,Where thou didst meekly, sweetly dwell,For all its sufferings is repaid.
Not the proud beauty, nor the frownOf her who shares the living yearsFrom her the winding-sheet wraps down,Can ever buy away the tears!
Towards the close of 1836, I was hurriedly dispatched to Liverpool for the purpose of securing the person of one Charles James Marshall, a collecting clerk, who, it was suddenly discovered, had absconded with a considerable sum of money belonging to his employers. I was too late—Charles James Marshall having sailed in one of the American liners the day before my arrival in the northern commercial capital. This fact well ascertained, I immediately set out on my return to London. Winter had come upon us unusually early; the weather was bitterly cold; and a piercing wind caused the snow, which had been falling heavily for several hours, to gyrate in fierce, blinding eddies, and heaped it up here and there into large and dangerous drifts. The obstruction offered by the rapidly-congealing snow greatly delayed our progress between Liverpool and Birmingham; and at a few miles only distant from the latter city, the leading engine ran off the line. Fortunately, the rate at which we were travelling was a very slow one, and no accident of moment occurred. Having no luggage to care for, I walked on to Birmingham, where I found the parliamentary train just on the point of starting, and with some hesitation, on account of the severity of the weather, I took my seat in one of the then very much exposed and uncomfortable carriages. We travelled steadily and safely, though slowly along, and reached Rugby Station in the afternoon, where we were to remain, the guard told us, till a fast down-train had passed. All of us hurried as quickly as we could to the large room at this station, where blazing fires and other appliances soon thawed the half-frozen bodies, and loosened the tongues of the numerous and motley passengers. After recovering the use of my benumbed limbs and faculties, I had leisure to look around and survey the miscellaneous assemblage about me.
Two persons had travelled in the same compartment with me from Birmingham, whose exterior, as disclosed by the dim light of the railway carriage, created some surprise that such finely-attired, fashionable gentlemen should stoop to journey by the plebeian penny-a-mile train. I could now observe them in a clearer light, and surprise at their apparent condescension vanished at once. To an eye less experienced than mine in the artifices and expedients familiar to a certain class of "swells," they might perhaps have passed muster for what they assumed to be, especially amidst the varied crowd of a "parliamentary;" but their copper finery could not for a moment impose upon me. The watch-chains were, I saw, mosaic; the watches, so frequently displayed, gilt; eye-glasses the same; the coats, fur-collared and cuffed, were ill-fitting and second-hand; ditto of the varnished boats and renovated velvet waistcoats; while the luxuriant moustaches and whiskers, and flowing wigs, were unmistakably merepieces d'occasion—assumed and diversified at pleasure. They were both apparently about fifty years of age; one of them perhaps one or two years less than that. I watched them narrowly, the more so from their making themselves ostentatiously attentive to a young woman—girl rather she seemed—of a remarkably graceful figure, but whose face I had not yet obtained a glimpse of. They made boisterous way for her to the fire, and were profuse and noisy in their offers of refreshment—all of which, I observed, were peremptorily declined. She was dressed in deep, unexpensive mourning; and from her timid gestures and averted head, whenever either of the fellows addressed her, was, it was evident, terrified as well as annoyed by their rude and insolent notice. I quietly drew near to the side of the fire-place, at which she stood, and with some difficulty obtained a sight of her features. I was struck with extreme surprise—not so much at her singular beauty, as from an instantaneous conviction that she was known to me, or at least that I had seen her frequently before, but where or when I could not at all call to mind. Again I looked, and my first impression was confirmed. At this moment the elder of the two men I have partially described placed his hand, with a rude familiarity, upon the girl's shoulder, proffering at the same time a glass of hot brandy and water for her acceptance. She turned sharply and indignantly away from the fellow; and looking round as if for protection, caught my eagerly-fixed gaze.
"Mr. Waters!" she said impulsively. "Oh I am so glad!"
"Yes," I answered, "that is certainly my name; but I scarcely remember——Stand back, fellow!" I angrily continued, as her tormentor, emboldened by the spirits he had drank, pressed with a jeering grin upon his face, towards her, still tendering the brandy and water. "Stand back!" He replied by a curse and a threat. The next moment his flowing wig was whirling across the room, and he standing with his bullet-head bare but for a few locks of iron-gray, in an attitude of speechless rage and confusion, increased bythe peals of laughter which greeted his ludicrous, unwigged aspect. He quickly put himself in a fighting attitude, and, backed by his companion, challenged me to battle. This was quite out of the question; and I was somewhat at a loss how to proceed, when the bell announcing the instant departure of the train rang out, my furious antagonist gathered up and adjusted his wig, and we all sallied forth to take our places—the young woman holding fast by my arm, and in a low, nervous voice, begging me not to leave her. I watched the two fellows take their seats, and then led her to the hindmost carriage, which we had to ourselves as far as the next station.
"Are Mrs. Waters and Emily quite well?" said the young woman, coloring and lowering her eyes beneath my earnest gaze, which she seemed for a moment to misinterpret.
"Quite—entirely so," I almost stammered. "You know us, then?"
"Surely I do," she replied, reassured by my manner. "But you, it seems," she presently added with a winning smile, "have quite forgotten little Mary Kingsford."
"Mary Kingsford!" I exclaimed almost with a shout. "Why, so it is! But what a transformation a few years have effected!"
"Do you think so! NotprettyMary Kingsford now, then?" she added with a light, pleasant laugh.
"You know what I mean, you vain creature!" I rejoined; for I was overjoyed at meeting with the gentle, well-remembered playmate of my own eldest girl. We were old familiar friends—almost father and daughter—in an instant.
Little Mary Kingsford, I should state, was, when I left Yorkshire, one of the prettiest, most engaging children I had ever seen; and a petted favorite not only with us, but of every other family in the neighborhood. She was the only child of Philip and Mary Kingsford—a humble, worthy, and much-respected couple. The father was gardener to Sir Pyott Dalzell, and her mother eked out his wages to a respectable maintenance by keeping a cheap children's school. The change which a few years had wrought in the beautiful child was quite sufficient to account for my imperfect recognition of her; but the instant her name was mentioned, I at once recognised the rare comeliness which had charmed us all in her childhood. The soft brown eyes were the same, though now revealing profounder depths, and emitting a more pensive expression; the hair, though deepened in color, was still golden; her complexion, lit up as it now was by a sweet blush, was brilliant as ever; whilst her child-person had became matured and developed into womanly symmetry and grace. The brilliancy of color vanished from her cheek as I glanced meaningly at her mourning dress.
"Yes," she murmured in a sad quivering voice—"yes, father is gone! It will be six months next Thursday, that he died! Mother is well," she continued more cheerfully, after a pause: "in health, but poorly off; and I—and I," she added with a faint effort at a smile, "am going to London to seek my fortune!"
"To seek your fortune!"
"Yes; you know my cousin, Sophy Clark? In one of her letters, she said she often saw you."
I nodded without speaking. I knew little of Sophia Clarke, except that she was the somewhat gay, coquettish shopwoman of a highly-respectable confectioner in the Strand, whom I shall call by the name of Morris.
"I am to be Sophy's assistant," continued Mary Kingsford; "not of course at first at such good wages as she gets. So lucky for me, is it not, since Imustgo to service? And so kind, too, of Sophy, to interest herself for me!"
"Well, it may be so. But surely I have heard—my wife at least has—that you and Richard Westlake were engaged? Excuse me, I was not aware the subject was a painful or unpleasant one."
"Richard's father," she replied with some spirit, "has higher views for his son. It is all off between us now," she added; "and perhaps it is for the best that it should be so."
I could have rightly interpreted these words without the aid of the partially-expressed sigh which followed them. The perilous position of so attractive, so inexperienced, so guileless a young creature, amidst the temptations and vanities of London, so painfully impressed and preoccupied me, that I scarcely uttered another word till the rapidly-diminishing rate of the train announced that we neared a station, after which it was probable we should have no farther opportunity for private conversation.
"Those men—those fellows at Rugby—where did you meet with them?" I inquired.
"Thirty or forty miles below Birmingham, where they entered the car in which I was seated. At Birmingham I managed to avoid them."
Little more passed between us till we reached London. Sophia Clark received her cousin at the Euston station, and was profuse of felicitations and compliments upon her arrival and personal appearance. After receiving a promise from Mary Kingsford to call and take tea with my wife and her old playmate, on the following Sunday, I handed the two young women into a cab in waiting, and they drove off. I had not moved away from the spot when a voice, a few paces behind me, which I thought I recognised, called out; "Quick, coachee, or you'll lose sight of them!" As I turned quickly round, another cab drove smartly off, which I followed at a run. I found, on reaching Lower Seymour Street, that I was not mistaken as to the owner of the voice, nor of his purpose. The fellow I had unwigged at Rugby thrust his body half out of the cab window, and pointing to the vehicle which contained the two girls, called out to the driver "to mind and make no mistake." The mannodded intelligence, and lashed his horse into a faster pace. Nothing that I might do could prevent the fellows from ascertaining Mary Kingsford's place of abode; and as that was all that, for the present at least, need be apprehended, I desisted from pursuit, and bent my steps homewards.
Mary Kingsford kept her appointment on the Sunday, and in reply to our questioning, said she liked her situation very well. Mr. and Mrs. Morris were exceedingly kind to her; so was Sophia. "Her cousin," she added in reply to a look which I could not repress, "was perhaps a little gay and free of manner, but the best-hearted creature in the world." The two fellows who had followed them had, I found, already twice visited the shop; but their attentions appeared now to be exclusively directed towards Sophia Clarke, whose vanity they not a little gratified. The names they gave were Hartley and Simpson. So entirely guileless and unsophisticated was the gentle country maiden, that I saw she scarcely comprehended the hints and warnings which I threw out. At parting, however, she made me a serious promise that she would instantly apply to me should any difficulty or perplexity overtake her.
I often called in at the confectioner's, and was gratified to find that Mary's modest propriety of behavior, in a somewhat difficult position, had gained her the good will of her employers, who invariably spoke of her with kindness and respect. Nevertheless, the care of a London life, with its incessant employment and late hours, soon, I perceived, began to tell upon her health and spirits; and it was consequently with pleasure I heard from my wife that she had seen a passage in a letter from Mary's mother, to the effect that the elder Westlake was betraying symptoms of yielding to the angry and passionate expostulations of his only son, relative to the engagement with Mary Kingsford. The blush with which she presented the letter was, I was told, eloquent.
One evening, on passing Morris's shop, I observed Hartley and Simpson there. They were swallowing custards and other confectionary with much gusto; and, from their new and costly habiliments, seemed to be in surprisingly good case. They were smiling at the cousins with rude confidence; and Sophia Clarke, I was grieved to see, repaid their insulting impertinence by her most elaborate graces. I passed on; and presently meeting with a brother-detective, who, it struck me, might know something of the two gentlemen, I turned back with him, and pointed them out. A glance sufficed him.
"Hartley and Simpson you say?" he remarked after we had walked away to some distance: "those are only two of their numerousaliases. I cannot, however, say that I am as yet on very familiar terms with them; but as I am especially directed to cultivate their acquaintance, there is no doubt we shall be more intimate with each other before long. Gamblers, blacklegs, swindlers, I already know them to be; and I would take odds they are not unfrequently something more, especially when fortune and the bones run cross with them."
"They appear in high feather just now," I said.
"Yes; they are connected, I suspect, with the gang who cleaned out young Garslade last week in Jermyn Street. I'd lay a trifle," he added as I turned to leave him, "that one or both of them will wear the Queen's livery, gray, turned up with yellow, before many weeks are past. Good-by."
About a fortnight after this conversation, with my wife I paid a visit to Astley's, for the gratification of our youngsters, who had long been promised a sight of the equestrian marvels at that celebrated amphitheatre. It was the latter end of February; and when we came out, we found the weather changed; dark and sleety, with a sharp, nipping wind. I had to call at Scotland-Yard; my wife and children consequently proceeded home in a cab without me; and after assisting to quell a slight disturbance originating in a gin-palace close by, I went on my way over Westminister Bridge. The inclement weather had cleared the streets and thoroughfares in a surprisingly short time; so that, excepting myself, no foot-passenger was visible on the bridge till I had about halfcrossed it, when a female figure, closely muffled up about the head, and sobbing bitterly, passed rapidly by on the opposite side. I turned and gazed after the retreating figure; it was a youthful, symmetrical one; and after a few moments' hesitation, I determined to follow at a distance, and as unobservedly as I could. On the woman sped, without pause or hesitation, till she reached Astley's, where I observed her stop suddenly, and toss her arms in the air with a gesture of desperation. I quickened my steps, which she observing, uttered a slight scream, and darted swiftly off again, moaning as she ran. The momentary glimpse I had obtained of her features, suggested a frightful apprehension, and I followed at my utmost speed. She turned at the first cross-street, and I should soon have overtaken her, but that in darting round the corner where she disappeared, I ran butt against a stout, elderly gentleman, who was hurrying smartly along out of the weather. With the suddenness of the shock and the slipperiness of the pavement, down we both reeled; and by the time we regained our feet, and growled savagely at each other, the young woman, whoever she was, had disappeared, and more than half an hour's eager search after her proved fruitless. At last I bethought me of hiding at one corner of Westminster Bridge. I had watched impatiently for about twenty minutes, when I observed the object of my pursuit stealing timidly and furtively towards the bridge on the opposite side of the way. As she came nearly abreast of where I stood, I darted forward; she saw, without recognizing me, and utteredan exclamation of terror, flew down towards the river, where a number of pieces of balk and other timber were fastened together, forming a kind of loose raft. I followed with haste, for I saw that it was indeed Mary Kingsford and loudly called to her to stop. She did not seem to hear me, and in a few moments the unhappy girl had gained the end of the timber raft. One instant she paused, with clasped hands, upon the brink, and in another had thrown herself into the dark and moaning river. On reaching the spot where she had disappeared, I could not at first see her in consequence of the dark mourning dress she had on. Presently I caught sight of her, still upborne by her spread clothes, but already carried by the swift current beyond my reach. The only chance was to crawl along a piece of round timber which projected farther into the river and by the end of which she must pass. This I effected with some difficulty; and laying myself out at full length, vainly endeavored with outstretched, straining arms, to grasp her dress. There was nothing left for it but to plunge in after her. I will confess that I hesitated to do so. I was encumbered with a heavy dress, which there was no time to put off, and moreover, like most inland men, I was but an indifferent swimmer. My indecision quickly vanished. The wretched girl, though gradually sinking, had not yet uttered a cry or appeared to struggle; but when the chilling waters reached her lips, she seemed to suddenly revive to a consciousness of the horror of her fate; she fought wildly with the engulfing tide, and shrieked for help. Before one could count ten, I grasped her by the arm, and lifted her head above the surface of the river. As I did so, I felt as if suddenly encased and weighed down by leaden garments, so quickly had my thick clothing and high boots sucked in the water. Vainly, thus burdened and impeded, did I endeavor to regain the raft; the strong tide bore us outwards, and I glared round, in inexpressible dismay, for some means of extrication from the frightful peril in which I found myself involved. Happily, right in the direction the tide was drifting us, a large barge lay moored by a chain-cable. I seized and twined one arm firmly round it, and thus partially secure, hallooed with renewed power for assistance. It soon came; a passer had witnessed the flight of the girl, and my pursuit, and was already hastening with others to our assistance. A wherry was unmoored; guided by my voice, they soon reached us; and but a brief interval elapsed before we were safely housed in an adjoining tavern.
A change of dress, with which the landlord kindly supplied me, a blazing fire, and a couple of glasses of hot brandy and water, soon restored warmth and vigor to my chilled and partially benumbed limbs; but more than two hours elapsed before Mary, who had swallowed a good deal of water, was in a condition to be removed. I had just sent for a cab, when two police officers, well known to me, entered the room with official briskness. Mary screamed, staggered towards me, and clinging to my arm, besought me with frantic earnestness to save her.
"Whatisthe meaning of this?" I exclaimed, addressing one of the police officers.
"Merely," said he, "that the young woman that's clinging so tight to you has been committing an audacious robbery"——
"No—no—no!" broke in the terrified girl.
"Oh! of course you'll say so," continued the officer. "All I know is, that the diamond brooch was found snugly hid away in her own box. But come, we have been after you for the last three hours; so you had better come along at once."
"Save me!—save me!" she sobbed, tightening her grasp upon my arm and looking with beseeching agony in my face.
"Be comforted," I whispered; "you shall go home with me. Calm yourself, Miss Kingsford," I added in a louder tone: "I no more believe you have stolen a diamond brooch than that I have."
"Bless you!—bless you!" she gasped in the intervals of her convulsive sobs.
"There is some wretched misapprehension in this business, I am quite sure," I continued; "but at all events I shall bail her—for this night at least."
"Bail her! That is hardly regular."
"No; but you will tell the superintendent that Mary Kingsford is in my custody, and that I answer for appearance to-morrow."
The men hesitated; but I stood too well at head-quarters for them to do more than hesitate; and the cab I had ordered being just then announced, I passed with Mary out of the room as quickly as I could, for I feared her senses were again leaving her. The air revived her somewhat, and I lifted her into the cab, placing myself beside her. She appeared to listen in fearful doubt whether I should be allowed to take her with me; and it was not till the wheels had made a score of revolutions that her fears vanished; then throwing herself upon my neck in an ecstacy of gratitude, she burst into tears, and continued till we reached home crying on my bosom like a broken-hearted child. She had, I found, been there about ten o'clock to seek me, and being told that I was gone to Astley's, had started off to find me there.
She still slept, or at least she had not risen when I left home the following morning to endeavor to get at the bottom of the strange accusation preferred against her. I first saw the superintendent, who, after hearing what I had to say, quite approved of all I had done, and intrusted the case entirely to my care. I next saw Mr. and Mrs. Morris and Sophia Clarke, and then waited upon the prosecutor, a youngish gentleman by the name of Saville, lodging in Essex Street, Strand. One or two things I heard, made necessary a visit to other officers of police, incidentally, as I found, mixed up with the affair. By the time all this was done,and an effectual watch had been placed upon Mr. Augustus Saville's movements, evening had fallen, and I wended my way homewards, both to obtain a little rest, and to hear Mary Kingsford's version of the story.
The result of my inquiries may be thus summed up. Ten days before. Sophia Clarke told her cousin that she had orders for Covent-Garden Theatre; and as it was not one of their busy nights, she thought they might obtain leave to go. Mary expressed her doubt of this, as both Mr. and Mrs. Morris, who were strict and somewhat fanatical Dissenters, disapproved of play-going, especially for young women. Nevertheless Sophia asked, informed Mary that the required permission had been readily accorded, and off they went in high spirits; Mary especially, who had never been to a theatre in her life before. When there they were joined by Hartley and Simpson, much to Mary's annoyance and vexation, especially as she saw that her cousin expected them. She had, in fact, accepted the orders from them. At the conclusion of the entertainments, they all four came out together, when suddenly there arose a hustling and confusion, accompanied with loud outcries, and a violent swaying to and fro of the crowd. The disturbance was, however, soon quelled; and Mary and her cousin had reached the outer door, when two police-officers seized Hartley and his friend, and insisted upon their going with them. A scuffle ensued; but other officers being at hand, the two men were secured, and carried off. The cousins, terribly frightened, called a coach, and were very glad to find themselves safe at home again. And now it came out that Mr. and Mrs. Morris had been told that they were going to spend the evening atmyhouse, and had no idea they were going to the play! Vexed as Mary was at the deception, she was too kindly tempered to refuse to keep her cousin's secret; especially knowing as she did that the discovery of the deceit Sophia had practised would in all probability be followed by her immediate discharge. Hartley and his friend swaggered on the following afternoon into the shop, and whispered Sophia that their arrest by the police had arisen from a strange mistake, for which the most ample apologies had been offered and accepted. After this matters went on as usual, except that Mary perceived a growing insolence and familiarity in Hartley's manner towards her. His language was frequently quite unintelligible, and once he asked her plainly "if she did not mean that he should gosharesin the prize she had lately found?" Upon Mary replying that she did not comprehend him, his look became absolutely ferocious, and he exclaimed; "Oh, that's your game, is it? But don't try it on with me, my good girl, I advise you." So violent did he become, that Mr. Morris was attracted by the noise, and ultimately bundled him, neck and heels, out of the shop. She had not seen either him or his companion since.
On the evening of the previous day, a gentleman whom she never remembered to have seen before, entered the shop, took a seat, and helped himself to a tart. She observed that after a while he looked at her very earnestly, and at length approaching quite close, said, "You were at Covent-Garden Theatre last Tuesday evening week?" Mary was struck, as she said, all of a heap, for both Mr. and Mrs. Morris were in the shop, and heard the question.
"Oh no, no! you mistake," she said hurriedly, and feeling at the same time her cheeks kindle into flame.
"Nay, but you were though," rejoined the gentleman. And then lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, "And let me advise you, if you would avoid exposure and consign punishment, to restore me the diamond brooch you robbed me of on that evening."
Mary screamed with terror, and a regular scene ensued. She was obliged to confess she had told a falsehood in denying she was at the theatre on the night in question, and Mr. Morris after that seemed inclined to believe any thing of her. The gentleman persisted in his charge; but at the same time vehemently iterating his assurance that all he wanted was his property; and it was ultimately decided that Mary's boxes, as well as her person should be searched. This was done; and to her utter consternation the brooch was found concealed, they said, in a black silk reticule. Denials, asseverations, were in vain. Mr. Saville identified the brooch, but once more offered to be content with its restoration. This Mr. Morris, a just, stern man, would not consent to, and he went out to summon a police-officer. Before he returned, Mary, by the advice of both her cousin and Mrs. Morris, had fled the house, and hurried in a state of distraction to find me, with what result the reader already knows.
"It is a wretched business," I observed to my wife, as soon as Mary Kingsford had retired to rest, at about nine o'clock in the evening. "Like you, I have no doubt of the poor girl's perfect innocence; but how to establish it by satisfactory evidence is another matter. I must take her to Bow Street the day after to-morrow."
"Good God, how dreadful! Can nothing be done? What does the prosecutor say the brooch is worth?"
"His uncle, he says, gave a hundred and twenty guineas for it. But that signifies little, for were its worth only a hundred and twenty farthings, compromise is, you know, out of the question."
"I did not mean that. Can you show it me? I am a pretty good judge of the value of jewels."
"Yes, you can see it." I took it out of the desk in which I had locked it up, and placed it before her. It was a splendid emerald, encircled by large brilliants.
My wife twisted and turned it about, holding it in all sorts of lights, and at last said,"I do not believe that either the emerald or the brilliants are real—that the brooch is, in fact, worth twenty shillings intrinsically."
"Do you say so?" I exclaimed, as I jumped up from my chair, for my wife's words gave color and consistence to a dim and faint suspicion which had crossed my mind. "Then this Saville is a manifest liar, and perhaps confederate with——But give me my hat: I will ascertain this point at once."
I hurried to a jeweller's shop, and found that my wife's opinion was correct. Apart from the workmanship, which was very fine, the brooch was valueless. Conjectures, suspicions, hopes, fears, chased each other with bewildering rapidity through my brain, and in order to collect and arrange my thoughts, I stepped out of the whirl of the streets into Dolly's Chop-house, and decided, over a quiet glass of negus, upon my plan of operations.
The next morning there appeared at the top of the second column of the "Times" an earnest appeal, worded with careful obscurity, so that only the person to whom it was addressed should easily understand it, to the individual who had lost or been robbed of a false stone and brilliants at the theatre, to communicate with a certain person—whose address I gave—without delay, in order to save the reputation, perhaps the life, of an innocent person.
I was at the address I had given by nine o'clock. Several hours passed without bringing any one, and I was beginning to despair, when a gentleman of the name of Bagshawe was announced: I fairly leaped for joy, for this was beyond my hopes.
A gentleman presently entered, of about thirty years of age, of a distinguished, though somewhat dissipated aspect.
"This brooch is yours?" said I, exhibiting it without delay or preface.
"It is; and I am here to know what your singular advertisement means."
I briefly explained the situation of affairs.
"The rascals!" he broke in, almost before I had finished. "I will briefly explain it all. A fellow of the name of Hartley, at least that was the name he gave, robbed me, I was pretty sure, of this brooch. I pointed him out to the police, and he was taken into custody; but nothing being found upon him, he was discharged."
"Not entirely, Mr. Bagshawe, on that account. You refused, when arrived at the station-house, to state what you had been robbed of; and you, moreover, said, in presence of the culprit, that you were to embark with your regiment for India the next day. That regiment, I have ascertained, did embark, as you said it would."
"True; but I had leave of absence, and shall take the overland route. The truth is, that during the walk to the station-house, I had leisure to reflect, that if I made a formal charge, it would lead to awkward disclosures, This brooch is an imitation of one presented me by a valued relative. Losses at play—since, for this unfortunate young woman's sake, Imustout with it—obliged me to part with the original; and I wore this, in order to conceal the fact from my relative's knowledge."
"This will, sir," I replied, "prove, with a little management, quite sufficient for all purposes. You have no objection to accompany me to the superintendent?"
"Not in the least: only I wish the devil had the brooch, as well as the fellow that stole it."
About half-past five o'clock on the same evening, the street-door was quietly opened by the landlord of the house in which Mr. Saville lodged, and I walked into the front room on the first floor, where I found the gentleman I sought languidly reclining on a sofa. He gathered himself smartly up at my appearance, and looked keenly in my face. He did not appear to like what he read there.
"I did not expect to see you to-day," he said, at last.
"No, perhaps not: but I have news for you. Mr. Bagshawe, the owner of the hundred-and-twenty guinea brooch your deceased uncle gave you, didnotsail for India, and—"
The wretched cur, before I could conclude, was on his knees, begging for mercy with disgusting abjectness. I could have spurned the scoundrel where he crawled.
"Come, sir!" I cried, "let us have no snivelling or humbug: mercy is not in my power, as you ought to know. Strive to deserve it. We want Hartley and Simpson, and cannot find them: you must aid us."
"Oh yes; to be sure I will," eagerly rejoined the rascal. "I will go for them at once," he added, with a kind of hesitating assurance.
"Nonsense!Sendfor them, you mean. Do so, and I will wait their arrival."
His note was despatched by a sure hand; and meanwhile I arranged the details of the expected meeting. I, and a friend, whom I momently expected, would ensconce ourselves behind a large screen in the room, while Mr. Augustus Saville would run playfully over the charming plot with his two friends, so that we might be able to fully appreciate its merits. Mr. Saville agreed. I rang the bell, an officer appeared, and we took our posts in readiness. We had scarcely done so, when the street-bell rang, and Saville announced the arrival of his confederates. There was a twinkle in the fellow's green eyes which I thought I understood. "Do not try that on, Mr. Augustus Saville," I quietly remarked: "we are but two here, certainly, but there are half-a-dozen in waiting below."
No more was said, and in another minute the friends met. It was a boisterously jolly meeting, as far as shaking hands and mutual felicitations on each other's good looks and health went. Saville was, I thought, the most obstreperously gay of all three.
"And yet, now I look at you, Saville,closely," said Hartley, "you don't look quite the thing. Have you seen a ghost?"
"No; but this cursed brooch affair worries me."
"Nonsense!—humbug!—it's all right: we are all embarked in the same boat. It's a regular three-handed game. I prigged it; Simmy here whipped it into pretty Mary's reticule, which she, I suppose, never looked into till the row came; andyouclaimed it—a regular merry-go-round, eh? Ha! ha! ha!"
"Quite so, Mr. Hartley," said I, suddenly facing him, and at the same time stamping on the floor; "as you say, a delightful merry-go-round; and here, you perceive, I added, as the officers crowded into the room, are more gentlemen to join in it."
I must not stain the paper with the curses, imprecations, blasphemies, which for a brief space resounded through the apartment. The rascals were safely and separately locked up a quarter of an hour afterwards; and before a month had passed away, all three were transported. It is scarcely necessary to remark, that they believed the brooch to be genuine, and of great value.
Mary Kingsford did not need to return to her employ. Westlake the elder withdrew his veto upon his son's choice, and the wedding was celebrated in the following May with great rejoicing; Mary's old playmate officiating as bridesmaid, and I as bride's-father. The still young couple have now a rather numerous family, and a home blessed with affection, peace, and competence. It was some time, however, before Mary recovered from the shock of her London adventure; and I am pretty sure that the disagreeable reminiscences inseparately connected in her mind with the metropolis will prevent at leastoneperson from being present at the World's Great Fair.
Our record of home affairs for the past month presents several points of more than usual interest. Two different movements, both of which originated in the Southern States, kept awake the public curiosity for three or four weeks past, though at the time these sheets are going through the press both appear to be rapidly subsiding.
Soon after the withdrawal of the Government prosecution against Gen. Henderson, Lopez, Gen. Quitman, and the other persons arraigned for trial as having been engaged in getting up a hostile expedition against Cuba, rumors of a second attempt being in preparation, began to be circulated through the country. Little attention was at first paid to these rumors, but the matter soon assumed a more definite shape, and the Southern newspapers began to notice the congregation of suspicious persons at different points on or near the coast. From the intelligence which the Government received, it became evident that an extensive expedition, was on foot, the object of which was the invasion of Cuba. The United States officers were ordered to be on the watch, for the purpose of obtaining more particular intelligence of its movements.
Two or three thousand men had collected in the neighborhood of Jacksonville, Florida, which had been selected as the principal rendezvous of the expedition. These men awaited the arrival of a steamer from New-York, which had been chartered by parties there. The Government, however, had already received intelligence of their plans, and instructions were at once sent to the United States Marshal at New-York, to prevent the departure of the steamer. This officer, accompanied by a police force, sailed down the bay in search of the suspected craft. In the mean time it was found that the steamer Cleopatra, a large boat, formerly employed on the Sound as a passenger boat, was the vessel indicated. She was then lying at one of the piers on the North River, and was immediately seized and placed under the supervision of the United States authorities. She was alleged to be bound to Galveston, Texas. A large quantity of coal was found on board, and a great number of water casks, and but few arms or ammunition of any kind. A file of marines from the Navy Yard was placed on board, and all communication with the shore forbidden. No final disposition has yet been made of the vessel, though orders were received to deliver her cargo to any person who may establish his ownership to the articles found on board.
At the same time, notice was received by the Marshal that a number of Germans and others had assembled at South Amboy for the purpose of embarking on some secret expedition, and one of the Deputy Marshals was sent there for the purpose of procuring information. Disguising himself as a German emigrant, he obtained sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest of the following six persons: William T. Rogers, Jr., John L. O'Sullivan, Capt. Lewis, of the steamboat Creole, a member of the former expedition; Major Louis Schlesinger, one of the Hungarian refugees; Pedro Sanchez Yznaga, a Cuban refugee; and Dr. Daniel H. Burtnett. Each of the parties was held to bail in the sum of $3,000, to appear for examination.
The movement must have been of considerable magnitude, but there was evidently a want of concert among its members, which may have led to its abandonment. From what could be ascertained, it was not the intention of the leaders to organize the expedition in this country, but to sail to some point beyond the limits of the United States, and there concentrate their forces for the invasion.
The South Carolina State Rights Convention assembled at Charleston on the 5th of May. The Hon. J. P. Richardson, Ex-Governor of the State, was appointed President. Forty district associations were represented, and 431 Delegates took their seats. The President, in his opening address, reviewed the present position of the South, and considered that, under existing circumstances, Southern institutions could not exist twenty years. He discussed at some length the want of affinity between the two sections of the Union, and expressed his conviction that those whom God and Nature have put asunder should not be joined together. On the second day, a letter from the Hon. Langdon Cheves was read, excusing his non-attendance. He deprecated separate State action, believing that one State cannot stand alone in the midst of her sister States.
A committee of twenty-one was appointed to prepare resolutions and an address, which were adopted, after considerable discussion. The following are the resolutions, which embody the sentiments of the Convention:
1.Resolved, That in the opinion of this meeting the State of South Carolina cannot submit to the wrongs and aggressions which have been perpetrated by the Federal Government and the Northern States, without dishonor and ruin; and that it is necessary for her to relieve herself therefrom, whether with or without the co-operation of other Southern States.
2.Resolved, That concert of action with one or more of our sister States of the South, whether through the proposed Southern Congress, or in any other manner, is an object worth many sacrifices, but not the sacrifice involved in submission.
3.Resolved, That we hold the right of secession to be essential to the sovereignty and freedom of the States of this confederacy; and that the denial of that right would furnish to an injured State the strongest additional cause for its exercise.
4.Resolved, That this meeting looks with confidence and hope to the Convention of the People, to exert the sovereign power of the State in defence of its rights, at the earliest practicable period and in the most effectual manner, and to the Legislature, to adopt the most speedy and effectual measures toward the same end.
Mr. Barnwell and two other members of the Committee presented a minority Report, referring the whole matter to the action of the Legislature. Judge Butler, U. S. Senator, also recommended a postponement of any decisive step. The original Report, however, was adopted, and the Convention adjournedsine die. The subject has occasioned but little excitement out of South Carolina, and it is not anticipated that any other State will pursue a similar course.
The Mexican Government has made a formal complaint to the President of the United States, in relation to the Indian outrages along the frontier, which the United States were bound to suppress, according to the Treaty of Guadaloupe Hidalgo. It is believed that a demand of a million of dollars will be made for damages which the Indians have already caused; besides which, Mexico refuses to ratify the Tchuantepec Treaty, unless these provisions are fulfilled. At the last session of Congress, the appropriation asked by the War Department for this purpose, was not made; besides which, the troops most serviceable for such a warfare have been disbanded.
An order has been issued by the President, that the tracts of land in Iowa, occupied by General Ujhazy and the other Hungarian exiles, shall be withheld from sale until the end of the next session of Congress, with a view to making application to that body for a grant of the lands.
The Massachusetts Legislature, after a struggle of four months, succeeded in electing a U. S. Senator on the 24th of April. Charles Sumner, Esq., the Free Soil Candidate, was chosen on that day, by 193 votes, precisely the number necessary for election. The Boston Board of Aldermen, who had passed a resolution refusing the use of Faneuil Hall for a public address by Daniel Webster, have since then retracted the step and concurred with the Common Council in inviting Mr. Webster to address the citizens of Boston. Faneuil Hall, hereafter, is to be granted on all occasions, at the application of one hundred voters. Before leaving Boston, Mr. Webster delivered a speech to the citizens of Boston, from the steps of the Revere House.
The Legislature of New-York adjourned on the 17th of April. The question of the enlargement of the Erie Canal was before the Senate, when twelve of the Democratic members of that body resigned their seats in order to prevent the passage of the bill, by leaving the senate without a quorum. The usual annual appropriations had not been voted, and the Government was thus placed without the means of sustaining its operations. An extra session of the Legislature has been called by Governor Hunt, for the 10th of June. Elections have been ordered, in the mean time, to fill the vacancies caused by the resignation of the Senators. The Members of the Assembly, of both parties, published manifestoes in relation to the question.
The Atlantic Coast and the Lakes have been visited this spring with a succession of tremendous gales, which have done an immense amount of damage in various quarters. A storm arose along the Northeastern coast, on the 15th of April, and at noon on the following day the tide was higher at Boston than had ever been known before. On the principal wharves of the city the water was three or four feet deep, and the streets were so flooded that a large boat could be rowed around the Custom House. An immense amount of damage was done to private property, and many lives were lost. The railroad tracks all around the city were submerged, and in many places torn up and washed away. All along the coast, from New Bedford to Portland, the gale raged with nearly equal violence, causing much injury to the shipping. The loss of property is estimated at more than one million of dollars.
On the night of the 17th of April, the third day of the storm, the light-house on Minot's Ledge, at the entrance of Boston harbor, was carried away, and the two men in it at the time drowned. Mr. Bennett, the keeper, who had been to Boston, was prevented from returning to it by the rough sea, and thus escaped. It was formed of wrought iron bars, riveted into the rock, and rising to the height of sixty feet, having chambers in the upper part for the keeper and his assistants. The light-house had been severely tested in the late equinoctial storm, and was considered secure.
His Excellency, President Fillmore, accompanied by the Hon. Daniel Webster, Secretary of State; Hon. William A. Graham, Secretary of the Navy; Hon. J. J. Crittenden, Attorney General; and Hon. N. K. Hall, Postmaster General, left Washington on the 12th of May, in order to be present at the opening of the Erie Railroad from New-York to Dunkirk. They were received with great enthusiasm on the way; at Baltimore and Wilmington they were officially welcomed, and were met at the latter place by the Mayor and Common Council of Philadelphia, who escorted them to that city.
Here the people turned out to give them a public reception, and speeches were made by the President and Mr. Webster. On their way to New-York they were met at Amboy by the Erie Railroad Company's steamer and conveyed to the city, saluted on the way by national salutes from the forts in the harbor, and the military companies ofthe city, who were drawn up on the Battery, to receive the distinguished visitors. The ceremonies of welcome were performed in Castle Garden, where the President and Secretaries were welcomed by Mayor Kingsland. Eloquent speeches were made in return by the President, Mr. Webster, and Mr. Crittenden. A military procession more than a mile in length, was then formed, and marched through the principal streets, which were thronged with spectators. Flags were waving from every point, and as the day was remarkably bright and warm, the spectacle was one of unusual life and animation.
The Company's boat left New-York at 6 o'clock on the morning of the 14th, having on board the President and Secretaries, all the principal State officers except Governor Hunt, the officers of the Erie Railroad Company, a large representation from the State Senate and Assembly, and both boards of the Common Council of the city, besides a number of other distinguished persons. At Piermont, three special trains received the company, 600 in all, and the grand march of 450 miles, through what was lately the wilderness of the State, from the Hudson to Lake Erie, commenced. All along the line of the road the people turned outen masse, cannons were fired and bells rung as the trains passed, and triumphal arches erected over the road. Brief addresses were made at the principal stations by the President, Mr. Webster, Mr. Seward, Mr. Crittenden, and other distinguished guests. The trains stopped at Elmira for the night, and proceeded next day to Dunkirk, which they reached in the afternoon. Here the crowning celebration was made. All the country, far and near, arose to hail the completion of the greatest railroad enterprise in the world. After the meeting, a grand barbecue was held: two oxen and ten sheep were roasted whole, and the company regaled on a magnificent scale. The day following this opening excursion, the regular passenger trains commenced running from New-York to Dunkirk. The distance between the Ocean and Lake Erie is now but a summer's day.
In the Connecticut Legislature the Democratic candidate for Governor, Mr. Seymour, was elected by a majority of one vote. The Legislature of Rhode Island, on the 10th of May, restored to Ex-Gov. Dorr, (well-known as the leader of "Dorr's Rebellion,") all the rights and privileges of a citizen.
M. Bois Le Compte, the French Minister at Washington, who has been recalled by his Government, took leave of the President on the 2d of May, and will shortly return to France.
Jenny Lind reached New-York in the beginning of May, after a triumphant tour of five months in the South and West. She commenced a series of farewell concerts on the 7th. She was received with as full a house and scarcely less enthusiasm than on the night of her first appearance in America. The Firemen of the city, in return for her donation of $3000 to the Widows' and Orphans' Fund, have presented her with a resolution of thanks inclosed in a gold box, and a copy of Audubon's Birds of America in a rosewood case.
A fire occurred at Santa Fe, New Mexico, on the 22d of April, which destroyed the finest hotel in the place. Col. Sumner, who is to take command of the United States military force in the Department, carries with him a large amount of seeds, grains, improved stock, farming utensils, and apparatus for developing the capacity of the soil. It is designed to make the United States troops in New Mexico support themselves as far as possible. The Apache Indians have been very troublesome, but a treaty of amity has been effected with their principal chief, Chacon. The Mexican citizens are well satisfied with the establishment of the Territorial Government.
The California mails of March 15th and April 1st have been received. The steamers which sailed from San Francisco on those days took away more than $3,500,000 in gold dust for the Atlantic States. The news is generally of a very favorable character. The severe drought which had prevailed through the whole winter, terminated on the 17th of March, when a succession of heavy showers commenced, the effect of which had been to revive business of all kinds. The miners in the dry diggings had a sufficiency of water to wash out their piles of dirt, and the gold dust, flowing into the centres of trades, soon dissipated the dulness which had fallen upon business of all kinds. Agricultural prospects have also brightened, and the crops of California will this year be an important feature of her products. The odious tax of $20 per month on all foreign miners has been repealed, and the Mexicans and Chilians who were last year driven out of the country will probably return.
The Legislature still continues in session, and since its futile attempt to elect a United States Senator, has gone vigorously to work. The sale of lottery tickets has been prohibited; the sum of $200,000 appropriated for the pay of persons engaged in military operations against the Indians, and the State Treasurer authorized to obtain a loan of $500,000. The District Court of Sacramento has given a decision sustaining the suitors of claims on all lands on which the city is located. A fugitive slave case—the first in California—has been settled at San Francisco. The owner of a slave, who had employed him in the mines for three or four months, was about to return with him to the Atlantic States. But as the slave preferred remaining, a writ of habeas corpus was procured and a hearing had before the Court, which decided that the negro was at liberty to stay and could not be removed against his will.
A fire broke out in a bowling alley in Nevada City, on the 12th of March, and spread so rapidly that before it could be subdued, the largest and best portion of the city was in ashes. One hundred and twenty-eight houses were destroyed, and the entire loss is estimated at $300,000.
Accounts from all parts of the gold region give flattering accounts of the golden harvest for the present year. The richest locality appears to be the district lying between Feather River and the American Fork, embracing the Yuba and its tributaries. The northern mines, on Trinity, Scott's and Klamath Rivers, continue to attract attention. On the Mokelumne River, gold is found in large quantities on the sides and summits of the hills. A placer of the precious metal has also been discovered by the Mexicans near San Diego. The operations in quartz mining promise to be very profitable. A vein near Nevada City has been sold for $130,000. Later accounts from the Gold Bluff are more encouraging. The top sand was washed away during a severe gale, and the heavy substratum, being washed, was found to yield from three to eight ounces to each pailful. Messrs. Moffat & Co., who obtained the Government contract for assaying gold, received deposits of golddust amounting to $100,000 in two hours after opening their office. The operations of the office had such an effect that the bankers of San Francisco were compelled to raise the price of gold dust to $17 per ounce, in order to have any share in the trade.
Professor Forest Shepard, of New-Haven, who has been prosecuting geological explorations in different parts of California, has discovered a remarkable valley in the Coast Range, north of Napa Valley. It is an immense chasm, 1000 feet deep, in the bottom of which was a large number of boiling springs and jets of steam, with here and there a fountain of hot water, similar to the geysers of Iceland. There are more than two hundred in all, within a compass of half a mile square. The soil of the valley was so warm that, although it was in the middle of winter, flowers were in full bloom and a luxuriant vegetation springing on all sides. It is Professor Shepard's intention to claim a portion of the valley, build a house thereon, and plant tropical trees in the warm soil.
The Hon. Samuel R. Thurston, Delegate to Congress from Oregon Territory, died on the 9th ult., on board the steamer California, bound from Panama to San Francisco. His remains were taken to Acapulco for interment.
Our news from Oregon is to the 22d of March. A discovery has been made by Capt. George Drew, of a vein of coal on the Cowlitz River, eighteen miles from its junction with the Columbia, and about one mile from the main Cowlitz. The vein is two feet thick and about half a mile in width, fifteen feet above high water mark and about forty feet below the surface of the bluff mountain. Governor Ogden, of the Hudson's Bay Company, at Vancouver, sent a boat and crew to bring a quantity away, that it may be fairly tested.
The Grand Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations, in the Crystal Palace at LONDON, was opened on Thursday, May 1, with appropriate and imposing ceremonies. Just before twelve o'clock, which was the hour appointed for the arrival of the Queen, the rain that had been falling at intervals during the day ceased altogether, and the sun shone forth from a cloudless sky. On the appearance of the Royal cortêge, the utmost enthusiasm was manifested by the people who thronged the vicinity of the Palace, and, in the midst of the cheers of the multitude, and the flourish of military music, the Queen, accompanied by Prince Albert, the Prince of Wales, and the Princess Royal, was ushered into the interior of the building. She was welcomed by the vast assemblage with repeated and universal cheers, ladies waved their handkerchiefs, gentlemen their hats, and the whole scene presented a spectacle of unrivalled splendor. After she had ascended the throne, which was a raised platform surmounted with a blue canopy ornamented with feathers, the National Anthem was sung by an immense choir under direction of Sir Henry Bishop. When the music had ceased, Prince Albert presented to the Queen the report of the proceedings of the Commissioners, to which she replied in a short speech. The Archbishop of Canterbury then offered the prayer of inauguration, at the close of which the Hallelujah Chorus was sung. A procession was now formed, composed of the architect, contractors, and officials engaged in the construction of the Crystal Palace, the Foreign Commissioners, the Royal Commissioners, Foreign Ambassadors, and the members of the Royal Family. After making the circuit of the building in the procession, the Queen resumed her seat on the platform, and announced by a herald that the Exhibition was opened. A flourish of trumpets and a discharge of artillery proclaimed the fact to the thronging multitudes on the outside. The Queen, attended by the Court, then withdrew from the building; the choir again struck up the strain of the National Anthem; the barriers, which had confined the spectators within certain limits, were removed; and the whole mass of visitors poured over every part of the magnificent edifice, eager to gratify a highly excited curiosity.
The number of exhibitors, whose productions are now displayed in the Crystal Palace, is about 15,000. One-half of these are British subjects. The remainder represent the industry of more than forty other nations, comprising nearly every civilized country on the globe. The Exhibition is divided into four classes; 1. Raw Materials; 2. Machinery; 3. Manufactures; 4. Sculpture and the Fine Arts. A further division is made, according to the geographical position of the countries represented, those which lie within the warmer latitudes being placed near the centre of the building, and the colder countries at the extremities. The Crystal Palace, which was commenced on the 26th of September, and has accordingly been completed in the short space of seven months, occupies an extent of about 18 acres, measuring 1,851 feet in length, and 556 in breadth, and affords a frontage for the exhibition of goods amounting in the aggregate to over 10 miles. It can accommodate at one time 40,000 visitors.
An interesting debate took place in theBritishHouse of Commons on the 3d of April, upon a motion by Mr. Herries for the repeal of the Income Tax. In an elaborate speech supporting his motion, Mr. Herries maintained that the Income Tax was proposed by Sir Robert Peel in order to meet a peculiar emergency occasioned by the maladministration of the Whigs prior to 1841. He presented a minute calculation for the purpose of showing that two-sevenths of the tax might be remitted without damage to the financial interests of the nation, and that the remission of £1,560,000 would be a greater relief than the removal of the window-tax. In reply to Mr. Herries, the Chancellor of the Exchequer contended that the measures contemplated in the motion were of the most disastrous tendency, and recommended the House to vote an Income Tax for three years. On a division of the House, Mr. Herries' motion was lost by a majority of 48.
The subject of Colonial Expenditures has elicited a warm debate in the House of Commons. Sir William Molesworth argued in favor of giving the means of local self-government to all colonies which are not military stations nor convict settlements. The colonies cost the United Kingdom the enormous sum of £4,000,000 sterling. He believed the military force maintained in the various colonies might be cut down to less than half the present establishment without injury to the Government. Under proper regulations, 17,000 men would be sufficient for the colonial garrisons, instead of 45,000. For colonial services the troops should be paid by the colonies—for Imperial purposes, by the General Government. Hecontended that in the North American colonies, the expenditure for military affairs should be reduced £400,000 per annum, and in the West Indies £250,000. From the Australian colonies nearly the whole military force might be withdrawn to advantage. Unless the military operations were discontinued in South Africa, the war would cost £1,000,000 more than the value of the colony. In conclusion, he estimated that the adoption of his measures would save the Government at least £1,800,000 in military and civil expenditure. The views of Sir William Molesworth were ably sustained by other members, while, on the contrary, Lord John Russell declared they were of a ruinous tendency, and earnestly protested against their adoption. If the plan were carried into effect, the glory of the British nation would be destroyed. She could no longer maintain her proud position before the world. The integrity of her empire would be annihilated, and she would be exposed to the attack of foreign powers. The debate was finally adjourned without a division.
The latest intelligence concerning Miss Talbot, whose relation to the Roman Catholic controversy has produced such a general excitement in England, is her decision to accept of a proposal of marriage from Lord Edward Howard, a Catholic nobleman of wealth and character. Application was made by the friends of the parties for the consent of the Lord Chancellor, which was given without hesitation.
The British Government has presented a memorial to the Courts of Berlin and Vienna, on the subject of admitting non-German territories into the Confederation, and insisting on a strict adherence to the Treaty of Vienna.
A new cabinet has been formed inFrance, consisting of Baroche, Rouher, Fould, Leon-Faucher, Buffet, Chasseloup Laubat, de Crouseilhes, Randon and Maque. The most prominent of these ministers are Baroche, Fould, and Leon-Faucher. They are all taken from the minority of the Assembly, and their choice will increase the difference between the President and that body. Baroche and Fould were members of the ministry which was obliged to retire in January last, before the opposition of the Assembly. Leon-Faucher labors under the stigma of having used the telegraph for electioneering purposes, for which he was condemned by the vote of the constituent assembly. Buffet was minister of commerce and agriculture in the administration of O'Dillon-Barrot. He is inclined to free trade sentiments, agreeing for the most part with Leon-Faucher in his commercial views. De Crouseilhes is a legitimist. He is an ex-peer of France, but has been more distinguished for his private worth than his political ability. Chasseloup Laubat has been in official employment since 1828, though he is still under fifty years of age. The best debater in the new ministry is undoubtedly Baroche, whose sagacity and mental vigor cannot be mistaken.
The political condition of France is still the subject of much speculation, but no definite conclusions can be arrived at in the present fluctuations of parties. Every thing shows the uncertainty which pervades the public mind. The President has renounced the hope of improving his political prospects, by obtaining a revision of the constitution. This could not be carried without a majority of three-fourths of the Assembly, while at least nearly 190 of the most strenuous republicans are decidedly opposed to the measure. The government is now sustained by the legitimists, who perceive no immediate hope of the accomplishment of their favorite plans. The partisans of Cavaignac are in favor of the speedy resignation of the President. In their opinion, this is necessary, in order to anticipate the general election, and thus prevent the difficulties that would ensue by the dissolution of the Assembly, without an established executive. Others, on the contrary, are in favor of extending the Presidential term for the period of ten years. A reconciliation was about to take place, according to the general rumor, between the President and General Changarnier. The government has demanded of the cabinet at London the expulsion of Ledru Rollin and other active politicians among the French refugees. With the present facilities of communication between London and Paris, their influence was believed to be adverse to the policy of the French government, and to increase the difficulties of the existing crisis.
An insurrection, headed by the Duke of Saldanha, has been attempted in Cientra,Portugal. The insurgents were about five thousand in number, and displayed considerable determination. Their leader is a man of great energy, and has had no small experience in political disturbances. He belongs to the reactionary party. The King, who commands the army in person, has occupied the fortress of Santarem, and the chances of the insurgents appear desperate, although they are said to have some friends in the royal army. The garrison at Oporto have declared for Saldanha, and the inhabitants of that city are generally on his side. He had decided to abandon the contest, and embark for England, but was recalled by the insurgents.
The King ofNapleshas prohibited his subjects from taking part in the Exhibition of the World's Fair, and from being present at it as visitors. The King of Sardinia proposes to visit England during the Exhibition.
The Emperor ofRussiahas appointed a Committee of manufacturers and scientific men, under the Presidency of the Director General of Public Works to visit the Exhibition, and also to examine the principal manufacturing establishments of France. He has also given permission to his subjects who may attend the exhibition, to pass through France on complying with certain conditions.
The city ofDrontheimhas again suffered from a popular outbreak, although not from political causes. The military and burgher guard were compelled to interfere, and several arrests took place. The difficulty originated in the prohibition of the sale of fish by the peasantry, in compliance with the demands of the licensed fishermen.
A misunderstanding of a serious nature has occurred between the Emperor ofAustriaand the Sultan ofTurkey. This has resulted in the withdrawal of the Austrian minister from Constantinople. The Sultan is charged with refusing to comply with the demands of the Emperor in regard to Kossuth and the other Hungarian prisoners. He declines detaining them after the expiration of the year during which he had promised to hold them in custody. An additional offence is his presentation of a claim upon the Austrian treasury for the expenses of the detention.
At our last dates fromTurkey, the Bosnian insurrectionhad been conducted with great activity, although it has probably been suppressed by Omer Pasha. A sanguinary engagement between the Sultan's troops and a body of fifteen thousand insurgents has taken place in the vicinity of Jaicza, in which several hundred of the combatants on both sides were killed or mortally wounded. The conflict terminated in favor of the rebels.