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Bram was amazed, for he had left home too early to days afterwards, having missed some young lambs, I ashave seen much sport in the fields of New Jersey; and cribed the felony to the foxes; but, in strolling through as, successively, I brought down bird after bird, he was the woods, I discovered a monstrous nest in the top of disposed to admit that, upon such small game, he might a small, insulated pine, large enough for the roc of Sinpossibly be beaten; but at ducks he could take the rag bad the Sailor; and instantly after an eagle took flight of any man. We had finished the quail, and reached from it, with a cry very unlike the scream pcetically the place of my deposit, when, uncovering my hoard, I ascribed to it. She was soon joined by her mate, sweepexhibited to Bram treble the number of birds that he ing around the tree, rising higher at each circle, and had killed.
both uttering the most plaintive and feeble wailings. “I give it up,” said lie: you can beat me with a The bones of lambs, ducks, and geese, lying in prosmooth bore ; but with a rifle I'll bang all creation.” fusion at the root of the tree, detected the plunderers
And many times afterwards he was desirous of try- of my sheepfold; and it was evident from that ciring my skill with that weapon.
cumstance, that there were nestlings in the tenement “Why any fool can shoot a rifle that has an eye in above. I therefore visited it the next day, with gun his head,” was my answer; and it was for a long time well charged with buck shot, which I directed through available. At length I met him one day, rifle in hand, the nest, expecting to destroy the tenants. But three on the shore of the lake; when, after pressing me hard days afterwards some of the neighbours cut down the to try a shot with him, he swore I did not know how, tree, and found the eaglets untouched. They brought and was afraid to expose my ignorance. He had hit them to me, and had I not been about to leave the counthe true reason, for I was totally inexperienced; but try, I should have been tempted to rear one of them. he cornered me so closely I had no escape. The lake Although I did not succeed in my first attempt upon was as smooth as a mirror. A grebe, of the smallest the bird of Jove, many years afterwards I brought one size, was sailing along, a hundred and fifty yards off, to the ground, and was obliged to give him the coup-deand snatching his rifle from his hand, -" Where shall I grace, to put him out of pain. I will not say anything hit that bird ?" said I.
about my feelings on the occasion, for they so nearly “Hit him in the head,” was the reply.
resembled those of Byron on a like event, that it will be I drew up, and levelling at arm's length an instant, thought that I have stolen my ideas from him ; though gave fire; and, to my astonishment and delight, the I never saw the passage in his book until a long time bird was killed.
afterwards. Like him, however, I resolved never to “Heer! hecren !” exclaimed Bram, and jumping into shoot another. a canoe, he paddled after the game. A new burst of I had read accounts of the game supper at Niblo's, astonishinent came from him as he picked up the grebe: and of an eagle being dished up at the head of the ta“I wish I may be
-," said he, "if you have not hit ble, and my curiosity was excited to know something of him in the eye!”
the flavour of such game. The bird I had killed was a “To be sure I have,” said I; “where else should I young one, and in good condition, and I resolved to have hit him?"
him cooked, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances I had established my reputation, and very prudently of my kitchen cabinet, which were never as omnipotent rested my fame on that exploit. And it was the first as that conclave at Washington. A "very ancient and a and last rifle shot that I fired during my stay in that fish-like smell,” invaded the parlour at every opening country.
of the kitchen door, and in due time the eagle was put Some weeks afterwards, there was a shooting match upon the table. If it were to have been tried by olfacfor geese and turkeys. The birds were placed behind a tory evidence, it would have been forth with condemned, log, at a hundred yards distance, and their heads alone and would have remained untouched; but such partial exposed. I walked down to witness the sport; and condemnation would not have solved the enquiry in my Bram, whose back was towards me, was challenging the mind. I cut a slice from the breast, and well saturated whole posse to shoot for a wager.
with the gravy, I put a piece into my mouth, and after "I can beat any man in the three counties, either at due mastication, not without some puckering of the rest or at arm's length. So come on, all of you if you upper lip, it was swallowed. If the smell of this newdare!" At this moment he caught sight of me. "All Tangled gibier was like that of “not of the newest, poor but him,” said he: “I won't shoot with him, for he John,” its taste was not more attractive; and the eagle beats the devil!” And upon this assurance, I was ad- and its accessories were dismissed. mitted cock of the walk.
I have intimated that “I rule the roast” in my own Bram was a capital fellow in his way, and was of ex- kitchen; but it behoves me to acknowledge, that once, cellent service on the marsh; and as he was always on on a similar occasion, I was fairly beaten. I had hand, he was very frequently my companion on a duck brought a hawk to the ground, that had been poachhunt. One day, upon our return from one of these, an ing for some time about the snipe ground, and finding eagle came soaring over us. I drew up my gun. Bram, it loaded with fat, I resolved to make experiment upon who saw the motion, exclaimed -
the taste of it, and ordered it picked and prepared for “Don't shoot! don't shoot! you'll strain your gun!” | the table. I was busy with a book in a room over the I gave him both barrels, however; but, though much kitchen, when I heard a cry, and immediately after, a hurt, he carried off the lead. “You've done the job,” report was brought, that the bird had disgorged a frog. said Bram, “and spoiled your gun. You'll never kill What of that ?'' said I, go on with your work.” In anything more with her.'
a few minutes, another “0, lord!" and a fresh bulletin I was amazed at his absurdity; but I afterwards announced that a mouse had been ejected. "No matfound more intelligent men than he imbued with the ter, what's a mouse ? go on without farther delay," was same superstition. As that was the last shot I fired at my message. At length a loud scream, and a most emgame in the country, I had no opportunity to test the phatic, “I won't, if i die fort ;” issued from below. truth of Bram's prognostics; but my mind was recalled upon inquiry into the cause of the uproar, my wife into it many months afterwards, when beating the coverts formed me that the cook had found a snake in the stoof Vyfd Kill, and missing everything I fired at. But I mach of the bird, and had thrown the whole out of the laid no blame upon my gun ; for I had just gotten rid of window. a tertian ague, which had deranged my nervous system, Thus my curiosity was defeated, and I know not to from which I never thoroughly recovered.
this day, how a good fat specimen of the genus Falco, I do not think that I killed the eagle that was pro- would relish with currant jelly. nounced so portentous to my fowling-piece. For, a few
When Poem-Reader,-Poem- IVriter,
(This too may be,) BY WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.
In living type is no inditer
When Any Man thinks GOD'S prescription
Man's ways should school; A heavenly strife,
And makes Himself the one exception Thinks far more of present Living
To prove the rule ; Than Future Life:
Howe'er he may in sight of others When the altar-fire he's stirring,
Preach, gloze, or rant; To roast and stew;
Howe'er the conscience-voice he sinothers; As if for Cure of Souls, like herring,
His life is CANT. The smoke would do :
THE WORLD'S REWARD.
One sultry noon-day a poor country lad was return.
ing to his village, wearied and exhausted by the load of When the Author writes love-letters To all mankind;
vegetables which he had carried to the neighbouring Or strikes with lightning-scorn the fetters,
town. Although he well knew that his cross old father
awaited his return with impatience, and that by each That myriads bind; When, Who is his Neighbour, truly,
delay he should only increase the old man's anger, still He tells the proud ;
the heat was so oppressive, that it was impossible for
him to pursue his way without some rest; he therefore Or groans for Genius most unduly
seated himself for a few minutes near a landmark. Chill’d and cowed ;
Beneath this stone, however, which, apparently Yet, low to gilt, shrined calves will lout it; Nor hand will grant
through rain and wind, had been moved from its origi
nal position, there lay a huge snake. As soon as this To Worth, till worth can do without it;
creature became aware of the lad, it stretched forth its Here is Cant.
head and in a hiss of anguish thus addressed him,III.
“Welcome, good stranger ! take pity on me, and re
lease me from the weight of this monstrous stone, which When all motives, in the Soldier,
threatens every moment to crush me. See! it presses Take holiest names ;
ever more painfully upon me, and if thou dost not reAnd at the touch of death grow bolder
lieve me immediately, I shall certainly be crushed to In lofty claims;
death!" As if the ghastly phosphorescence
The country lad was no little surprised by the conThat rotting sheds,
fidential manner in which the creature, usually so savage Were one with th' heavenly halo-presence towards men, addressed him; he was touched with On sainted heads!
compassion, nevertheless he did not over and above reWhen artful knaves thus flatter grossly
lish its near neighbourhood. But now when the snake Fools militant;
besought him in a still more piteous manner, saying, And blockhead millions echo closely;
“I beseech thee, in the name of mercy, save me ! Here is CANT.
save me! I will indeed reward thee, as people always
reward their benefactors." The good-natured lad no IV.
longer hesitated, but with all his strength, rolled away When Statesmen, down at foot of hill, are the stone from the body of the half-crushed serpent. All warm and bold;
But how great indeed was his horror, when the reBut as they climb the mountain pillar,
leased monster rushed upon him with the utmost fury, Grow cold and cold;
and breathing forth venom threatened to devour him. When the Patriot's yoice is vox et
Scarcely conscious he stammered forth pale and trembPræterea nihil ;
ling, And his martyr-spirit baulks at
“Is this the reward thou makest thy benefactor ?" Each daily trial:
The serpent answered coldly,-
benefits, and I promised thee no other reward." For laughs at Mother Church's dotage ;
These words only increased his astonishment still Here is CANT.
There seemed to him no means by which he
could escape his cruel foe, no third party to come to his V.
rescue. Feeling himself doomed to be devoured by the When “Honesty;" that bragged ingredient horrible creature, he still sought with tears and violent In every trade;
beatings of his heart, to address it in the following Means—just the minimum, expedient
words, For Interest's aid :
"I acknowledge myself to be thy victim, for I have When beyond abstract gold, so many
neither strength nor courage to struggle with thee; but “Friendship” esteem ;
still I have not wit enough to comprehend the meaning of Yet with so few, the concrete guinea
thy words. I am a poor, simple country lad, and am Will kick the beam:
too unacquainted with the world to comprehend what When “Love;" while owned the firmest, chiefest thou sayest about its mode of rewarding services. Grant Boon GOD can grant;
me a moment's reflection, or let us choose another Is weighed as though the least and briefest : judge in this affair.” Here is CANT.
"Well !" cried the serpent,
“ then let it be so.
Upon yon bare heath there grazes an old horse, in nied the judge and victim to the stone in the field, in thy eyes perhaps, a more noble creature than I am; let order to show the former the origin of the dispute. us hasten to him, we will hear his decision."
When they had reached the spot, the fox stood siThis was no sooner said than done. The lad strode lently and thoughtfully before the stone, measured its fearfully on towards the moor, and his venomous com- height and breadth, and shaking his head and tail, panion moved along slowly behind him. They soon commenced with an oratorical air :-"Beloved, beautireached the dry, grassless heath, and perceived before ful, and wise serpent! although I question thy right in them a grey horse which was scarcely more than a this matter, as little as I can disapprove of the charms skeleton; the iniserable beast was cropping with diffi- of thy royal form, and the justice of thy claims lies as culty the few bents which grew upon the barren ground. heavily upon my heart as the stone did upon thy shining The serpent immediately commenced,
back; still I cannot conceive how thy stately form could “What is it that detains thee here, when at home ever find space sufficient in this narrow cavity. If I am thou mightest enjoy rich and excellent food? What has to be a right judge I must see the whole affair clearly changed thy noble form into such a skeleton, that thy before my eyes.” skin can barely cover it?" With a melancholy gasp, “Of that I will directly convince thee,” said the serthe horse replied,
pent, and immediately she glided into the hole where "Dost thou not know that this is the world's reward, she had lain concealed. Scarcely had she placed herand the recompense for every good service ? Thirty self in it, than the country lad obeyed the signal of the hard years I bore a bold warrior, understanding his fox, and rolled the stone so cleverly over her, that she every desire, obeying every movement of his bridle; could scarcely do more than stretch forth her head from six times in the tumult of battle have I saved him from beneath the load. captivity and death. Now that I am grown weak “Was it possible,” cried the cunning fox with the through age and toil, and can no longer serve him, he greatest astonishment, “ that thou couldst ever breathe has given me over to the flayer, who will soon loosen ihere!” my skin from my bones.”
“Yes," pursued the other, “I was quite as uncom“ Ha!” cried the serpent to the lad with a triumphant fortable then as I am now; but lift the weight off my laugh, “hast thou heard this? Prepare for death, all back again, or I shall be dead!” is over with thce !" And saying this, the snake drew She brought forth the last words wiih the greatest difhimself up ready to spring upon him with renewed ficulty from her compressed throat, but the country lad fury. The despairing lad sank humbly upon his knees replied all the more merrily:-"No, no, Mrs. Snake, we between the serpent and the horse, and once more be will let you remain there!” and he and his deliverer sought in a plaintive voice,
walked off well pleased. Oh, spare my life yet a little while, I have a poor When they had pursued their homeward way for old father at home; who will take care of him if tho'l some distance, the fox reminded his companion of the devourest me ? Let us take another judge; a human promise he had made. The lad promised him again six life is surely worth this trouble! Should he pronounce splendid hens for his breakfast the following morning, the same decision, I will then prepare myself for and with this the fox took a friendly leave of him, and death.”
directed his steps towards a neighbouring vineyard. “Be it so," said the crafty foe, “I will be so merci The country lad now hastened on towards his little ful as to grant thee this request also.” And with this village, but it was late in the evening before he reached she drove him along a moor towards a coppice, where his home. Loud was the old father's anger at his delay, she had already perceived the form of an animal. When and it was in vain that he represented to him the dreadthey arrived they perceived an old hound fastened to a ful danger which had been its cause, in vain that he willow-stump, and endeavouring in vain to defend him- praised the humane fox to whom he owed his deliverself against the swarm of flies which attacked him.
“ How is it that thou art here, Sir Harecatcher, fast He now confessed the promise he had made to the ened to this pillar of honour, thou who but so short a fox, and declared that it was alone by this means he had time since I saw chasing the hares in full glory across been able to save both his own and his father's life. But the fields?” enquired the serpent. But the old hound at this the old man became still more wrathful, and only whined bitterly, and thus replied :
swore to Heaven, that he would rather have lost him • Such is the world's reward and the universal re-than one of the hens; and before the morning star grew compense of good! After having for six happy years pale, the old man stood ready armed with a heavy, sharp served my master zealously and faithfully at home and axe behind the garden-gate, and as the unsuspicious abroad, after having rendered my name terrific to the guest stretched forth his head into the garden to fetch whole host of hares, he has me fastened to this stump, his promised breakfast, he struck the weapon with all where I am awaiting the reward for my good services, his might into the poor creature's neck. which in a few minutes the huntsman will send me from The son, aroused by the cry of the poor fox, rushed his gun!”
forth from his room, but too late either to warn or to The poor lad shuddered both body and soul, for the save him. He beheld the unhappy fox weltering in his serpent perceptibly expanded her frightful curling form, blood, and with the last cry of agony, “ This is the reready to swallow ihe miserable victiin of her rage. No ward of kindness!” his life passed away. means of deliverance now remaining to him, the poor lad prepared himself in God's name to receive the deathbite. But lo! before he was aware there sprang forth a fox, who secreily had watched all from the neighbour
Literary Notices. ing coppice. Wiih a very friendly manner he stepped between the two, enquired what was the subject of their dispute, and, un perceived by the serpent, promised the Hours of Recreation. Poems. By CHARLES S. Midunhappy lad by a sign his safety, in consideration of a
London: Smith, Old Compton-street, Sohocertain quantity of poultry which he should receive. With equal caution, but most joyfully did the lad pro
square. mise the reward, and now the fox besought for a mi. If we wanted a proof of the folly of young poets, this nute relation of the whole affair.
volume, or rather the preface to it, would furnish a fine The serpent, greatly to the lad's astonishment, ap- example. The author tells us that “all its contents peared satisfied with this arrangement, and accompa- have been written in his boyhood. Now boyhood is
ALTIEN TIC PORTRAIT OF CHRIST OX A GEM.
the age of clevemess in tops and marbles, but is not con Mr. Jones also, whilst studying his business of a jewsidered a great recommendation for poetryBoys are eller, struck by the poetical and artistic beauty of gems, fond of plunging into profound depths of rivers in hot enquires into their history, and perceives that through
eather, but it is rare that the plunge into very pro- all ages—more especially in the early ages of the worldfound poetry. So thinks our author, and he puts this certain minds, and those generally the purest and most fact forth in the very opening of his volume. He then poetical of their day, have recognised a high and spiadds naively enough. “I have now arrived at an age ritual significance in gems, far beyond their mere matewhen I can begin to distinguish between right and wrong, rial value. This little volume is the result of Mr. Jones's and my mind is becoming expanded to the discovery of enquiries, and contains, beside much that the general my utter ignorance of all around and above me." The reader may consider mere mysticism, much that is cu. question that every one naturally asks on reading this, rious and picturesque, and is altogether calculated to is— Why then have you given us your crudities and inspire a poetical and unsordid reverence for jewellery, your ignorance? If you are only beginning to distin- But we will let Mr. Jones speak for himself. guish between right and wrong-why not wait a little ? This is a reason why you may do something clever some day-but is none why you should publish what you did “ It is through an engraving on an emerald that we have a in your days of utter ignorance, and before your eyes likeness of the founder of our religion; it was taken by command were opened.
of Tiberius Cæsar, and became deposited in the Treasury of ConWe quote this, however, not to condemn the book, stantinople, whence it was given by the Emperor of the Turks but the preface. In the volume itself we find more than to Pope Innocent viii., as a ransom for his brother, then a pri. the usual indications of the true poetic instinct, and soner to the Christians. Steel-plate copios of the gem are no.
merous.' everywhere a fine and genuine tone of feeling. In the poem on Night, with a good deal of grave commonplace, THE INFLUENCE OF SARACENIC ARCHITECTURE UPON JEWELLERY. there are many fine thoughts, and a spirit of contempla
The Mahomedans, banded together on the truth of God's tion pitched to a lofty key. Warm and generous syin- unity, overthrew polytheism and offered their adorations in pe thies, and deep piety, amongst the noblest qualities mosques adorned with a bewildering complication of geometric of the poet, distinguish this volume, and give good pro- figures and foliage; the vegetable kingdom supplied them with mise for the future. These are well demonstrated in their decorations. The Saracens extended their conquests into the two following sonuets:
Spain, where their caliphs became the principal patrons of art and learning for some centuries. The colleges of Cordova and Macrid were the schools of Europe, and the gorgeous palace of the Alhambra became the model of a new style of architecture
in Christendom and has remained to this day the treasury of that Dear sons of genius! how I weep to trace The sombre page which marks your rough career :
class of ornaments named Arabesque. In the elaborate tra
cery to be seen sculptured over the doorway of the cathedral at In your few days you were not cherished here
Rouen and other such buildings on the continent, the climax of As ye should be ; but to his resting-place
this style seems to be reached. The weary pilgrim often turns his face,
The entanglement of interAnd gives to memory, all he can, a tear!
mingling lines baffles the attempt to grasp the principle of the Ages that are to come shall hold you dear,
composition, yet both in detail and as a whole, a pleasing im.
pression is produced. The tombs of Cairo exhibit every form But time your memory never shall efface.
of combination of which right-lined figures are capable. The Bleak disappointment, cold neglect have been Your lot in life, deep misery and tears,
Saracens converted the right lines into curves. The principle With few to gladden life's unhappy scene,
of Saracenic architecture was the construction in durable ma.
terials of an edifice similar to the Arab tent; a pole supported Or guide your footsteps down the vale of years :
the centre, and richly worked shawls formed the curtains around And haply such, ere long, may be my lot
it. Every line in its structure therefore was graceful as draTo rest in earth, unnoticed and forgot.
pery; occasionally the Persian lattice-work-appears in the Great God! I long to celebrate thy name
ground-work of the walls giving variety to the composition.
There is a constant agreement between architectural and But the green years of youth are yet with me ;
personal ornament. And I must traverse not heaven's paths with thee
The knowledge of the idea embodied
in the former assists to determine the meaning of the latter ;As have the chosen of thy sons of fame.
and no style of ornament abounds more in modern jewellery Oh ! pour thy light upon this humble frame ! Then meditation and deep thought shall be
than some form or other of the Arabesque. The harbinger of that which now I see, Even in far years, a bright and holy flame
Narrative of William Wells Brown, a Fugitive Slave. When thou wilt be my guide through regions bright,
Written by himself. Second edition, Boston, AntiTeaching my footsteps ne'er to turn astray,
Slavery Office, U. S.
Now slaves begin to write their own history, we may 'Till in th' Empyrean fancy's wings shall rest,
calculate on the ultimate downfall of the accursed sysAnd I upon thy bosom shall be blest.
tem of slavery. The United States will, no doubt, one The History and Object of Jewellery. By John Jones. day remove this flagrant violation of Christianity and of
Published by the Author, at his Watch Manufactory, the principles of their own constitution, and become a No. 338, Strand; and sold by W. Orr and Co., Amen Christian country. Williain Brown's narrative as far as Corner, and 147, Strand,
it goes, is most interesting. As Frederick Douglass is
the son of his master, he is the son of one of his master's In the midst of this prosaic, money.getting age, we are relatives, and, therefore, half-caste. That one damning ever and anon reminded of a certain secret stream of fact, that Americans sell their own children, renders all spiritualism which is silently pursuing its course, and argument regarding slavery superfluous-and excludes promises one day to overflow the world as a second de- the nation, so long as it exists in it, from the catalogue suge. Swedenborgianism is rapidly gaining ground of Christian state. among the enlightened minds of the age; Emerson is regarded as a great teacher. Poets and Painters are more than ever impressed with a beautiful presentiment of an inward life, which is to be the true life, pervading all creation, from man down to the flower and the butterfly.
ADDRESS TO THE READERS OF HOWITT'S JOURNAL.
So much has already been written and said of our connection with the “People's Journal,” that the subject is not more distasteful to the public than it is to myself, yet still at the present moment which is most important to myself, and to that which is dearest to me, my reputation, a few words must be permitted, and to these few I earnestly call the attention of the public.
I will not go into the particulars of my unfortunate connection with the “People's Journal,” but merely refer the reader to the 35th, 37th, and 38th Nos., Vol. II of this Journal, for that purpose.
And now I have shortly and sorrowfully to say, that, entangled in a web of embarrassments and debts, by the desperate artifices and reckless conduct of John Saunders, swindled out of our hard-earned little capital by him, and by means of enormous exertions made by him, and the issue of hundreds of thousands of printed papers, and lithographic circulars and letters, both in this country and America with the avowed intention of injuring our reputation,* the consequence has been, that our exertions have been most completely crippled, and the long-cherished plan of our Journal has been blighted. Not only our plans and our money, but the names of our literary friends usurped by him, and this Journal, which began with a weekly circulation of twenty-five thousand, being also plunged into the most disastrous times imaginable, has been reduced to about one-half that circulation. In the meantime, our resources were exhausted, and though, since the exposure of the audacious frauds of Mr. Saunders, the most favourable re-action of feeling has taken place towards ourselves and the Journal, the difficulties into which his proceedings have plunged us, have become overwhelming.
In making these remarks, however, I must be permitted a momentary digression, though one painful to myself, more especially as I have to refer to the conduct of a third party, without whose aid and countenance John Saunders would have been powerless. I refer to Miss Martineau. Up to the date of the unfortunate discovery which I made of the frauds of Mr. Saunders, I always considered Miss Martineau as one who reciprocated our feelings towards herself-those of cordial friendship. When she was ill at Teignmouth I visited her; when she was attacked for her mesmeric faith I encouraged her; when myself and my wife laid down plans for the “People's Journal,” and furnished a list of contributors to aid in it, Miss Martineau's was among the first names. To her we wrote requesting her assistance, and I myself, in the 11th No. of that Journal, wrote an article to accompany her portrait, in which nothing but the most cordial spirit was evinced, nothing said but what I then believed to be deservedly true. When, however, I became justly suspicious of Mr. Saunders, he immediately gained possession of her ear-she was then in London on her way to Egypt--and stranger as he was to her, so completely possessed her mind as to make her refuse to see us, or even to hear what we had to say on the other side, nor has she done so to this moment, never once having seen the documents on which the case rests. By her means he and his partner were enabled to introduce into the arbitration two of her friends against my one. They two appointing a third friend of hers and theirs as umpire-thus making a monstrous tribunal of five against two, and before this tribunal even the proofs of my cause never were examined. The umpire to whom the case was referred before the second article even was gone into, fortunately, however, was an upright, noble-minded man, and after the arbitration had been delayed by all kinds of quibbles for four months, † and it was referred to him, he dismissed it as a barbarous piece of injustice, even censuring his own friends for the part they had taken in it; and himself, there and then, drew up a deed of dissolution of partnership, which, however, Mr. Saunders would not sign, although agreeing to do so, for four months, and until he had removed out of the deed every advantage which the umpire had conceded to me. During all this time Miss Martineau supported and countenanced his Journal, and t'ie public, willing to look up to her as authority, believed Saunders to be right, because she supported him. How different might it have been had she at first heard both sides, and judged impartially, rather than have made herself a blind partizan, and aided in ruining those who had never thought an unkind thought towards her, much less done her an unkind action.
But to return to the present state of our own Journal. It has taken firm root in the public mind, and from all parts of the country we receive assurances of its having met the wants of the time, and of its becoming one of the permanent voices of the people. Thus it stands. The slightest return of good times or the employment of a comparatively insignificant capital by any one freed from the trammels by which we are surrounded would render this Journal a splendid property.
For ourselves this is hopeless; pressed by the creditors of the “People's Journal,” while they suffer John Saunders to go unmolested, there is no way out of the difficulties into which a desperate and most artful adventurer has plunged me, I but to seek the protection of the Court of Bankruptcy. After a long and painful struggle with myself, and my not unjustifiable pride, and by the advice of wise and sincere friends, I have taken that step, and now, at the age of fifty-four, I have to begin life anew.
Both myself and my wife have sacrificed very large literary profits, and made gigantic exertions to establish Howirr's JOURNAL as an organ of sound and decided popular progress, and at the same time as a resource for our family and our old age. As to the first object, the Journal will speak for itself; as regards the second, undaunted as ever, we shall proceed to new exertions, with the sacred determination to discharge every shilling of our own just debts, and to labour, as long as life and ability shall be spared us in the cause of truth, liberty, and
The experience of the last two years has given us some awful revelations of human nature-yet that nature has justified itself, and out of the night of gloom and disappointed hopes that has surrounded us, there have arisen a few bright stars of truth and steadfast generosity, the knowledge of which in some measure compensates for all that we have witnessed with surprise, and suffered, as we hope, with some degree of patience.
* See No. 35, Vol. II., of this Journal. The whole expenditure of these attacks left in the liabilities for which we are now pressed. + See the correspondence of the arbitrators proving this amongst the MS. documents.
#From circumstances lately disclosed to me, it appears pretty certain that not a penny of the £800 entered as advanced to the concern by Mr. Turrell ever was advanced, but had been lent to Mr. Saunders at various times previously, and was credited to Mr. Turrell as capital paid in, and that it was this fact which made the two brothers-in-law so united in their opposition to a ledger, which would at once have brought to light the whole affair as a hoax of the most complete description. This explains also the balance sheet of the official accountant, which showed, in opposition to Mr. Saunders's statement to me in his letter of March 10th, that the concern owed nothing (see documents), a balance against it, on May 2nd, only four months after the Journal commenced, of £1,221, and if the £800 was paid in, of liability incurred in that short period of upwards of £2,000.