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fOBTET.
FROM THE CONNECTICUT MIRROR.
My peace is in the quiet vale,
The chosen haunt of simple thought;
I seek not Fortune’s flattering gale—
I better love the peaceful lot.
I leave the world of noisy show,
To wander by my native brook;
I ask in life’s unruffled flow,
No treasure but iny friend and book.
These belter suit the tranquil home,
Where the clear water murmurs by:
And if I wish a while to roam,
I have an ocean in the sky.
Fancy can charm, and feeling bless
With sweeter hours than fashion knows;
There is no calmer quietness,
Than home around the bosom throws.
V
SONG.
- Nay, twine the heath-flower void for me;
It best, will suit my blighted lot;
For I am flung negleetingly
Abroad, where fostering love is not:
And roses on mv aching brow
V Too soon would lose their blushing glow;
•V While on my throbbing bosom laid,
'NjFhe I'fs bloom in death would fade!
^wreath the folds of Beauty’s hair
JMth the white jas’mine stars—their snow
]ow wijb purer seeming there, -»
! grace on loveliness bestow.
^delicate frail life will be
id forth, in sweet luxuriancy,
rich tresses where they lie*
rd. in their own od’rous sigh!
To th$ seraph, Hope, he given,
Tp horjjago to her soft eyes’ hue,
Thl.violet hud, which stoic from heaven,
Its aitchless depth of star-light blue.
Ent-jlie^lhe lyre of song to shade,
liyrtlc’s shining braid
' me that flower alone
i the desert thrown!
As things
FROM
Oh! what
If night ;
If ocean "ne
Who" =
And if t he .
Who could
idelphia album.
re joyif grief were never known?
to not, who could rejoice in day?
r into sf omvs were thrown,
1 id mire rt H* in pence it lay ?
knew not tho lightning keen,
L jht to see the blue serene ?
And thus w*
Her icy hand
If pleasure ” m J
And shoi
Who could he
If peace had
-if sorrow neve' 1;
i the glowing bn
B man’s waiting!
}>ftiuch1»s pilgrir
Who (enjoy this
[We are no l
tcraturA&b&tite »rticlefoig«p«5ng8; but
> as one ^^k^most.qngerfdus we
•***pvefiMKi x*crasional enter-
*to theee'wualBveto Search out hidden
ENIGMA.
t a word that does silence proclaim,
Which backwards and forwards does still spell the
same;
Then add to the first a feminine name,
Which backwards and forwards does still spell the
same;
An instrument too, which lawyers oft frame,
An d backwards and forwards does still spell the same;
And a musical note which all will proclaim,
Both backwards and forward does still spell the same;
, The initials of these, when join’d, form a name,
Which every young lady that’s married will claim,
And backwards and forwards does still spell the same.
FROM THE TRENTON EMPORIUM.
THE TEA TABLE.
* Well, sir, I can take care of myself,* said
Julia Pellew to her husband, as they were
taking their tea together in their little parlor,
one delightful summer evening. Just at
this moment, and while the words were yet
on her tongue, the door opened, and Miss
Polly Gaw entered the room on one of her
afternoon visits. Julia could not avoid
colouring up a little at this sudden intrusion
—for this young lady’s visits were always
intrusive, ahd Miss Gaw evfdently saw or
suspected she had dropped in at a moment
when her company was not the mo3t desira
ble.—However, she got herself seated, and
entertained her good neighbour with a long
history of the home concerns of every family
in the neighbourhood, about three hours
long. There was a minute account of Mrs.
D’s party, with a list of all who were not
invited, among whom was she most careful
to remind that she, Julia, was one ; then the
progress of the courtships in the country,
the domestic squabbles of her acquaintan-
ces; the scandals of the week; the ihotions
of the old widower on the Appleby farm, be
tokening an approaching union with the
Squire’s daughter, and who were jealous
thereat; and a hundred other topics’ equally
interesting and profitabla, were all spread
out on the carpet.
Mr. Pellew made his escape soon from
the table, and Miss Polly did not fail to
comment largely on the savage unsociability
of husbands, insisting that they were as rest
less. and unhappy in the house as caged up
tigers, and instancing how gay and young,
and spruce they immediately became, on
losing their wives, kindly and most sympa
thetically adding, * if you were to drop off,
my dear Julia, Mr. Pellew would, in ten
days, be the most gallant and agreeable man
in the village. After enjoying herself, and
entertaining Julia thus delightfully, until it
began to grow late, she gathered up her
knitting, and sallied out to make a call or
two more before she went home.
Mr, and Mrs. Pellew were young, had
been married but about a year, and were
mutually as happy in their union as love and
virtue, and similar tastes and dispositions
could make them. He was engaged in a
business which, with industry and good
ipanagement, yielded him a good living; he
bad embarked in it, however, without capi-
ta! ; of his own; but Juba had a considerable
amount of property, which, though the prin
cipal was not under her control, was a basis
upon which her husband was enabled to
, (gain the credit necessary in his business.
and he hpd.done so. This amiable iamily
had numerous relatives add acquaintance^,"
werp looked upon by the,good and sensible
part* of the neigli*>ourh<y6d as patterns 6f
virtue, and were generjdlymuch beloved itnd
admired.
The visit of their friend Miss Polly was
forgotten in a day or two; but things began,
before long, to wear rather a strange aspect.
Time after time, Mrs. Pellew observed that
her visitors, who began to be much more
numerous than before, put on long faces,
and in a condoling strain, lectured on the
trials of the married state, the necessity of
forbearance, and of Christian patience,
mingled with sundry hints about the sove
reign rights of the sex, and the best method
of managing,unruly husbands, with now and
then a kind of half expressed svmpathetic
pity for her. She could not, for her life, un
derstand what ail this meant; and attributed
it to every cause but the right one.
Nor was Mr. Pellew to escape this new,
and to him, unaccountable change of the
current feeling among his neighbours to
ward them. The first symptom he saw was
a sullenness and coldness on the part of his
wife’s relatives, some of them even refusing
to speak to him. The female part of his ac
quaintance scolded at him and what was
worse, he thought his customers began to
neglect him. Day after day, things grew
worse—at last his creditors began to push—
he was alarmed—he had never.before been
asked for money; his credit had been per
fect—he wondered and Waited for the issue
—it came—in half a dozen prosecutions,
judgments and executions.
It was now time to rouse up
were in progress, he appeared to be in utter
surprise, and to view them with perfect in
credulity, not being willing to believe scarce
ly the evidence of his senses. Now, he de
manded the cause of this strange treatment,
and, with some difficulty, ascertained that it
arose from the separation about to take place
between him and his wife! and the cruel
manner in which he had used her! He de
manded the author of the story, and was re
ferred to an old gentleman who had told his
informer : the old man gave his frife : his
wife her neighbour’s wife, and so the tale
might he traced down through about five
and twenty mouths, growing rather less at
every step until it Cfrr.^o Miss Polly Gaw:
shehadaffijpicd thatshe overheard Mr. Pel-
wife collated in a violent quar-
-htJ* and even heaid a distinct affirmation on
her part that she would leave him
Mr. Pellew now hit upon an expedient to
bring matters to a close at once. He in
vited all such of his wife’s relatives, his
neighbours, his creditors, &c. as were with
in his reach, to meet at his house on busi
ness of the utmost importance. About
twenty assembled, among them Miss Gaw,
and half a dozen or more of the principal
mouth pieces in the village. He then stated
to them his business; recounted to thein the
stories he had heard; traced them all down
to their origin, and demanded ,of Miss Pollv
her reasons for the report she had raised
Cornered up so unexpectedly and suddenly,
she candidly confessed that the only foun
dation for what she had said was, that on
the afternoon she had paid the visit first
mentioned, she had heard, as she entered
Mrs. Pellew say * Well, sir,' I can take care
of myself.* And she wished 1o know
Julia Pellew would deny this—Julia replied
she would not—she had barbacued a pair of
fine fat quails for her husband’s supper, and
had been helping him t > a choice hit—he
had pressed her to keep it herself, saying
she was too kind: and she did, on the occa
sion, utter the offensive words—* Well, sir.
I will take care of myself.*
A burst of astonishment succeeded. Miss
Gaw ran out of the room like a woman who
had lost her senses. The worthy couple
received the congratulations of the honest
people present; and though the knaves
shook their heads and pretended to be
mighty glad the truth had come out. it was
with a grace that but half concealed ttieir
sorrow.—Thereafter not a syllable was ever
lisped about the before much talked of se
paration.
But thus it is, gentle reader, that one half
of the tea-table stories originate ; and who
would think there were still as many ready
to believe them and trumpet them about, as
there were in Aylesbury, in Polly Gaw’i
time?
with my ’own eyes, many
time; and beautiful’s the grove of them that pers that I saw growing upon the trees at
the Governor has in bis garden on the
esplanade:—besides, the whole of the walls
of the fortress are completely covered with : crous explanation and apology, said, * My
them, as all my brother officers could attest ’ good fellow, I wish you had thought of that
at this present time were they here to ! a little sooner.
J
Then, by the powers ! you only display ] running up to his wounded antagonist, he
^Our own want of understanding by so doing: took his hand, and pressing it eagerly, thus
and I take it very uncivil 6f I’ve^aadrcssed :—‘ My dear frind! if yeVe kilt, I
seen the anchovies grow upon the trees,ax yer pardon in this world and the next;
many’s the hundred | for I made a divil of a mistake;—it was ca-
* Then your doa^ that reads books! might I,
beg to borrow a sight him 1’ ‘ Why to sneak
the truth, as our circumstances are but nar
row, we have sent the dog out to keep a
school.*
Malta, and not anchovies at all.”
‘ The wounded man smiling at his ludi-
the fore, to do that same.’
killed me, but
I don’t think you have quite
I hope you will remember
* Upon my soul,* returned his opponent, ‘ the difference between anchovies and capers
laughing heartily, * you out-mandeville even ; as long as you live.*
Sir John himself—and he was no flincher
THE CLUBS OF ST. JAMES’S;
•Qn d Characteristics of the Old School of Fashion.—By
s an Octogenarian. «
Anchovies on Trees.—* A few years ago,’
said Sheridan, * an Irish officer who belong
ed to a regiment in garrison in Malta, re
turned to this country on leave of absence
and according to the custom of travellers
was fond of relating the wonders he hacl
seen. Among other things,,he one day, in
a public coffee-room, expatiated on the ex
celleacy of living in general among the mill
tary. . * But,* said he, ‘ as for tho Anchovies
by the powers, there is nothing to be seen
like them in the known world !?
* Why, that is a hold assertion,’ said
gentleman present; ‘for I think Fngland
can boast of that article in as great perfec
tion as any country, if not greater.*
* My dear Sur,’ replied the Irishman,
* you’ll pardon me for paying that your opi
nion is founded on sheer ignorance of the
fact:—excuse my plain spaking; but you’d
soon be of my thinking, if you saw the fruit
growing so beautiful and large, as I have
seen it many’s the day.*
‘Will done, Pat,* exclaimed ibis oppo
nent, ‘ he fruit* growing so beautiful and
large !—on a tree, I suppose? Come, you
won’t beat that however.*
‘ Do you'douht the word of a gentleman,
Sur V returned the officer. i~
‘ I doubt the fact, Sir,’ answered the gen
tleman. ■ "
at a fit. He it was, I believe, who asserted
that oysters grew upon trees.on the Mala
bar coast; but you give anchovies, already
pickled, from the same source! Huzza for
St..Patrick J—the days of miracles have re
turned !* /
Then, Sur, returned the Irishman, bri
dling with anger, ‘ami to understand that
you doubt my word 'll
You may understand, Sir, what /you
please; but, though the license of travellers
is generally allowed to be pretty extensive,
you must not suppose that any gentleman
in this company are to be crammed with an
absurdity so palpable, as that of anchovies
growing upon trees.
As much as to say, Sur, in plain terms,
thatY have told a lie?—say the word, Sur,
and I am satisfied. I’m not quarrelsome,
Sir, by my sowl! only say that, and you had
better be born without a shoe to your foot,
or a shirt to your back.*
* Neither you, Sir,* returned the gentle
man, ‘ nor any other man shall compel me
to say that I believe that which by nature
is impossible.*
‘ Then, Sur, I’ll beg lave to address a few
words to this honourable company; after
which, as my veracity and honour are con
cerned, both as an officer and a gentleman,
—if you do not retract your words, and own
your conviction that what I have said is
true, 1 shall, insist on your meeting me in
another place, more convanient, may be,
for settling disputes, than this room.*
‘ Go on, Sir,’ said the gentleman.
‘ In Che first place, then, gentlemen, upon
my honour and conscience! as 1 have a soul
to be saved and to escape the pains of pur-
eatery! I swear by all the saints in the
alendar, and the divil himself to boot, that
T Would 'scorn to tell a falsehood to man or
mortal—these very eyes have, on ten thou-
and different occasions, seen the anchovies
us plump as gooseberries growing, on and
plucked from the trees in. his Majesty’s
island and fortress of Malta. In the second
place-
impossible!* exclaimed his pertinacious
opponent: ‘ 1 tell you to your face, and be
fore these gentlemen, that you never saw
any such thing.* .
The lie direct!—By the rod of St. Pat
rick ! it is more than a Christian officer can
hear:-—but I’ll keep myself cool for the
honour of the corps; and I’d advise you,
Sur, if you can’t be aisy, that you’d better
he as aisy as you can; for if you spaik such
another disrespectful and injurious word,' I’ll
not call you out at all; but. by the* powers!
I’ll smite your eye out on the spot, and
plaster the walls with your blood!—so you
had better take care of yourself and not be
cantankerous, my dear honey. But, to re
turn to my argument, Sir, which you so un
civilly interruptedI was going to observe,
in the second place, to yourself, that it is a
rule in the army, and more particularly in
the honourable corps to which I belong,
that no gentleman shall presume to doubt
the word of. another, unless that he can
positively prove that he is wrong, and that
too on the spot. Therefore, Sur, even sup
pose that I had told y° u a l*e> y° u have no
right, by the laws of honour, to challenge
me with it; because you never were at Mal
ta at all, and of course could not see the
thing with your own eyes., But, Sur, by
way of conclusion to my discourse, I have
to remark to ye, that you have not only in
sulted an officer and a gentleman, but an
Irishman; therefore I trust that every one
present will see that I have sufficient reason
for requiring satisfaction.
‘ Satisfaction!—pooh! pooh! ,for what ?
for a mere difference of opinion? Nonsense!*
exclaimed several of the party.
* I beg your pardon, gentlemen, no,'dif
ference of opinion at all: he has given me
the lie; and Cprnailius O’Flanagan’s own
father’s son won’t take the lie from a man
or mortal, even, as I said before, if it was
true. Do ye know the way we begin fight
ing in Tipperary ? I’ll tell ye, if ye don’t:
Paddy chalks his hat, d’ye see, all round
FROM THE MONTREAL HERALD.
The story of the man of his Majesty’s
71st Regiment falling overboard from the
Chambly steamboat, between Long Point
and Montreal, .and so miraculously appear
ing on the beach before his comrades had
disembarked, reminded me of a circum
stance that occurred during my servitude on
board the Dolphin Man of War. bound to
the West Indies. We were going at the
rate of about three knots and a half, when
Tom Garboard, belonging to the foretop,
(who, by the by was a bit of a wag.) sleep
ing in the lee forechains, by a sudden lurch
of the ship was thrown overboard.
A man overboard! ! ! was the general cry
fore and aft—and every one ran to offer, or
give assistance to the drowning man.
Tom who was a tolerable good swimmer,
as every body thought, but nothing extra
ordinary, woke up, on finding himself in
deep water and began to use his paddles,
the ship passing ahead as I was saying be
fore, at the rate of three knots and a half.
Tom was soon lost sight of under the coun
ter, (for although our ship was not on Sop
ping’s plan, yet she was pretty full abaft,)
when Tom was lucky enough to get hold of
the rudder chains. The hands all run aft
expecting to see Tom astern, and to lower
the jolly boat down to pick him up; but no
Tom was to be seen. “ He is gone,” said
they, “ to Davy’s locker,” and efforts ceas
ed.
Our ship was very deep, bound out to the
West Indies, consequently our gun room
ports were low in the water. This Tom
saw, and as it was getting dark, he thought
he would wait till they had beat to quarters,
and piped the hammocks down, before he
got on board, which he did, and then pop
ped down into the lady’s hold (where the
gunner keeps his wads and spare monkies
rails.) and there remained till the middle of
the first watch, when he sallied forth and
made free with our bread bags, taking
enough to serve him for three days. At the
end of this time, we were jogging along at
an easy rate with scarcely any wind, about
a knot, when master Tom. unobserved, slips
opt of the port he came in at, and dropping
astern began to hail the ship. “ The Dol
phin a-hoy! !** “ Holloa.” says the Quar
termaster. who was abaft getting a pull of
the mainbrace. ? Says Tom, “ If you dont
back the maintopsail and heave too, I shall
sink,Tor no man can swim to the West In
dies without provisions.”
Every body run aft in amazement, for it
had been blowing fresh during the time we
supposed he had been overboard : but the re
wa3 no time to be lost—so the boat was
lowered, and poor Tom picked up, to the
great gratification and astonishment of every
body on board. '
On our arrival, as the Captain was on
shore dining with the Governor, the talk
turned upon swimming. The Governor
was extolling the powers of a Black man lie
had, and our Captain swore no man could
swim with Tom Garboard, of the Dolphin’s
foretop; however, to make a long story
short, the Captain and the Governor made
a heavy bet—the time was appointed—Tom
asked one week to get ready*
The Carpenters were ordered to make
what chests and conveniences Tom requir
ed. The purser was instructed, at his re
quest, to supply a fortnight’s provisions
The day came, and Tom went on shore at
the wharf appointed, when he began to stow
his grub. The black fellow looked at him
with, astonishment, “ what you do dere,
massa ?” says he ;—“ what am I doing
here,” says Tom, “ why I arn taking in my
provisions, to be sure, and I advise you to
do the same, for dam the bit of this do you
get on the road.” “ Why, massa,” says the
Negro, “ me no swim more nine ten miles.”
“ Nine or ten miles,” says Tom, as if in a-
mazement at the short distance, “Why,
man, I’m going to Tobago, which I believe
is over 200 miles and shan’t be back for a
fortnight.”
... , The spectators were astounded. The
the rim of it and down he throws it on the! black refused to swim. The Governor lost
greerf turf. “ I should like any body to tcil his wager, and it was not until we were
me now,” says he, “ that this isn’t silvur homeward bound, that Tom told the secret.
laice.” So, then, away they go to it with
Melancholy Case of Matrimony.—It is
generally admitted that a man pays the full
price of his follies.—Indeed it is an opinion
among the prudent, that he pays something
more than their real value. What is worst
of all is, that l*e can never know the price
‘'beforehand, but, like a man who has worn
out the coat got on credit, is forced .to pay
whatever is asked, and that after the com
modity is no longer worth any thing—We
beg pardon for giving the moral before we
have told the story.— \n unfortunate swain
was brought before “ the justice” on Satur
day, by his sweetheart, charged with the of
fence of too much love. The lady held
the proof, in her arms, which, as well as
he ‘elf;cited loudly for justice. A bond,
the j >! or marriage, were the aliernatives,
ant! h ud ones ‘Hob seemed to think them^
Lon he pondered, and wistfully looked,
and, like other rustic deep Thinkers, much
he scratched his head. Better men would*
have stuck fast on the horns of t o grave a
dilemma. But it Was a pressi ' case, for
the crowd thickerted, and Jenny’s ire was
something less gentle than zephyr. At
length he thought it better to marry than do
wo^e, and the Justice, taking him at his
word, sent for a parson, and had him wedded
on the spot. The groom, we are informed,
behaved well on the occasion, and departed
with as reasonable prospects of happiness,
a3 bachelors usually have who are married
against their wills.
Was ever lover in this humour woo\l?
Was ev lov *r in his -tumour won !
We hope, when the marriage unannounced,
that the usual order will be reversed, and
that the bride’s name take the precedence
which this vigorous measure entitles her
to.—Bait. American.
the shillelagh: you understand me, Sur, that
is our way. An Irishman’s honour is de-r-
er to him than his life ; and even when in
A man who was accustomed to deal m
the marvellous, told a country cousin of his
that he had three great curiosities in his
the wrong, he’d sooner die than have a lie j ] 10use; an ox that could go 300 miles a day,
thrown in his teeth. So now, gentlemen, i a coc k that told the hour of the night, and a
I’ll bid you all a good night; and as for you,
Sur, there is my card, which I shall be hap
py to exchange for yours.”
‘ The Englishman of course gave his ad
dress, and the next day the parties met, at-
dog that could read in a superior manner.
Says the cousin * these are extraordinary
things indeed! I must call upon you, and
beg a sight of them.’ The liar returns home
and tells his wife what had happened, say
tended by their seconds. They fired, and j ing he had got into a scrape, and did not
O’Flanagan’s shot took effect in the fleshy j know how to extricate himself. “ Oh, never
part of his opponent’s thigh, which made j mind,” says she, “ I can manage it.” The
the latter jump about a foot from the ground, i next day the countryman called, and in-
abd fall flat upon his back, where he lay for i quiring after his cousin, is told that he was
a few seconds in agony, kicking his heels.! that morning gone off to Pekin. * And
This being observed by the Irishman’s se- what time is he expected back ?* ‘ In seven
cond, he said, ‘ You have hit your man,
O’Flanagan, that is certain: I think not
dangerously, however: for see what capers
he cuts.’
‘ Capers! capers/* exclaimed the Irishman.
‘ Oh! theheavenly powers ! What have I
done ? What a dreadful mistake !* And
or eight days.’—‘ How can he return so
quick ?’ * He’s gone off upon the ox.’ * Apro
pos, of that,’ continues the guest, * I am
told that you have a cock that marks the
hour.’ A cock happened just then to crow
* Yes, that’s he; he only tells the hour of the
night, but reports when a stranger comes’
Another Abduction !—We learn from the
Canandaigua Repository, that a poor blind
pauper in the poor house of that county, has
been stolen bodily out of a window, by a
lady who had for some time been enanr red
of him. We have heard of ladies leaping
from windows in ? o the arms of impatient
and adoring gentlemen, by the pale beams
of the Queen of nights hut we never before
knew an instance where a lady thus spread
her arms for a blind Adonis of real flesh and
blood. The “ happy pair ” were last seen
at Lewiston, on their way to Canada.
Recipe for making everlasting Shoes.—A
nobleman of Gascony (for all Gascons are
noblemen,) complaining that his pomps did
not last long enough, the humble shoemaker' 1
asked him of what stuff his lordship should
like to have them made—‘ Make the vamp,’
said he, * of the throat of a chorister—the
quarter of a wolf’s neck, and the sole of a
woman’s tongue.’ The astonished Crispin
made bold with a second question in the
shape of a timid and hesitating ‘ Pouc quoil’
* Why, you blockhead,’ replied the wag, be
cause the first never admits water—the se
cond hecause it never bends on either side,
and the last, hecause though always in mo
tion it never wears out.’
Manchester Law.—On Monday evening
last, a person having the appearance of a
gentleman, put his face under the bonnet of
a respectable lady of this town, in the lower
boxes of the Minor Theatre, and made use
of some improper language, which was
overhead by the brother of her husband,
who happened to be near, and resented by
him in very strong language. This so in
censed the fellow that he pulled the gentle
man who remonstrated with him by the nose.
The latter endeavored to return the com
pliment, but was prevented by a blow on the
face given by his antagonist. A scuffle en
sued, when a p- lice officer came up and
took the aggressor into custody. On the
road to the lockup, the gentleman protested
strongly against going to prison, and pro
posed to give the officer a guinea if he
would procure a coach and take him before
a magistrate immediately, which was ‘re
fused. Finding entreaty of no avail, the
spark, who said his name was Pope, began
to bluster and swear a little. He said he had
often heard of Manchester Law, but now
he experienced something of it. The Man
chester police thought they could rule the
whole country, but he would teach them dif
ferent: he was a member of parliament, and
he would bring the case before the house,
on his return to London. The officer, who
unfortunately was not embrued with that
due sense of the deference which was ex
pected to be shown to a member of the Bri
tish senate, persisted in performing his duty,/!
and accommodated the honourable member
with a night’s lodging in the Now Bailey,
where he was left to cogitate upon the scrape
he brought himself into.
In the morning, it appeared that confine
ment had produced some effect upon tho
choler of the parliament man, who changed
his menaces into entreaties, and earnestly
requested that the case might be privately
heard, as it would be derogatory to his dig
nity to be exposed in a puhhc court to the
gaze of the vulgar multitude. This request
was made known to the complainant, who
consented to the arrangement, and the mem-
ber, who, amongst other changes, had
thought proper to change his name to Guest,
was taken before Mr. Norris, when the gen
tleman who had been insulted agreed to ac
commodate the matter, on the prisoner’s
consenting to pay the sum of ten pounds to
the trustees of the Manchester Infirmary, for
the use of that charity. Mr. Guest was
then liberated, and will doubtless, take espe-
cial care how he again transgresses against
Manchester Law.”