New LONDON BRIDOE.—The approaches to this structure are in a
state of f,ir- wardness. The foundations of several of the land-arches are laid ; and the pas- sage through Upper Thames Street, at the east end, is stopped, for the purpose of erecting the arch which is to support the intended road across that ancient tlas rough fare. In a shop-window not very far from the New Church in the Strand, may he seen the following decent notice—" A Skeleton (human) to be sold within." The skull is exhibited as a sample of the whole. There is a poor widow named Sheepwash, living at Faversham, who has three sons at this time serving in the navy ; and each of the sons has authorized her I receive his half-pay, amounting jointly to 11s. a week. This exmplifies the happiness of having a " quiver full of young children." A WITTY Coacumart.—The proprietor of the new Hammersmith omnibus among other claims to patronage, puts forward the following—" that the doorway of his vehicle is of sufficient width to admit ladies' bonnets of the present fashion. without being crushed ; an accident of too frequent occurrence oil entering car- riages of the ordinary construction." On Tuesday morning, at Mount Michael, Rathfarnham, the seat of 'Michael Walsh, Esq., a mule being left in a distant field separate from the other cattle, strayed into some neighbouring ground, from whence he was turned out on the high road leading to Mr. Walsh's gate. Some men who were working in the yard heard the gate-bell ringing violently, and isupposing it to be some of the family, they hastened to the gate with all possible speed, where, to their astonish- ment, they found the mule, with his mouth against the nob at the handle of the bell, the japan of winch displays evident marks of his teeth. What makes the circum- stance still more extraordinary is, that this bell which runs sixty or seventy yatds into the house, had not been up more than three days, and the only opportunity the mule had of being acquainted with it was, in seeing his driver each of days, on his arrival from town with the market-cart, ringing for and obtanuse:
admission.-.—.Dalin Paper.
TRIAL OF STEAM CARRIAGES.—In the month of April last, the directors of the Liverpool and Manchester rail-roads offered a prize of 5001. for the best locomo-
tive engine; and the trial of the carriages which had been constructed in conse- quence took place at Liverpool on Tuesday. The running ground was on the Manchester side of Rainhill-bridge, at a place called Kenrick's-cross, about nine miles from Liverpool. At this place the rail-road runs on a dead level, and formed a fine spot for trying the comparative speed of the carriages. For the ac- commodation of the ladies, a booth was erected on the south side of the rail-road, equidistant from the extremities of the trial-ground. Here a band of music was
stationed, and amused the company during the day. The directors, each with a white riband in his button-hole, arrived on the course shortly after ten o'clock in the forenoon, having come from Huyton on cars drawn by Mr. R. S,ephenson's
steam-carriage, which moved up the inclined plane from thence with consider- able velocity. Meanwhile, ladies and gentlemen, in great numbers, arrived from Liverpool and Warrington, St. Helen's and Manchester, as well as from the sur- rounding country.. The pedestrians were extremely numerous. The spectators lined both sides of the road for the distance of a mile and a half. It is difficult to form an estimate of the number of individuals who had congregated to behold the
experiment ; but there could not, at a moderate calculation, be less than 10,000. Some gentlemen even went so far as to compute them at 15,000. Never, per- haps, on any previous occasion, were so many -scientific gentlemen and practical engineers collected together on one spot as there were on the rail-road. The in- teresting and important nature of the experiments to be tried had drawn them from all parts of the kingdom. Mr. Burstall, of Edinburgh, did not bring his carriage out, in consequence of its having met with an accident on the road from Liverpool to the course. The locomotive carriages ran up and down the road during the forenoon, more for amusement than experiment. Mr. Robert Ste- phenson's carriage attracted the most attention during the early part of the after- noon. It ran, without any weight being attached to it, at the rate of twenty-four miles in the hour, emitting very little smoke, but dropping its red-hot cinders as it proceeded. Cars containing stones were then attached to it, weighing, together with its own weight, upwards of seventeen tons, preparatory to the trial of its speed being made. This trial occupied, with stoppages, seventy-one minutes; and proved that the carriage can, drawing three times its own weight, run at the rate of more than ten miles in the hour. Mr. Ackworth, of Darlington, ran his carriage along the course during the day, but no trial of its speed with weights took place. Mr. Winan's machine, worked by two men, and carrying six passengers, was also on the ground. It moved with no great velocity, com- pared with the locomotive steam-carriages, but with considerable speed consider- ing that it was put in motion by human power. Mr. Brandreth, of Liverpool, had his locomotive carriage on the road. It was worked by two horses, on the prin- ciple of the tread-wheel. Though its velocity was not more than four miles per hour on this occasion, it is a carriage which will be useful for a variety of pur- poses on the rail-road. But the speed of all the other locomotive steam-carriages on the course was far exceeded by that of Messrs. Braithwaite and Co.'s beautiful engine from London. It shot along the line at the amazing rate of thirty miles in the hour! The contests were to continue for two or three days.
RECOVERY OF LOST TREASURE.—For the following facts we are indebted to a gentleman who visited Ireland a few days ago, conversed with some of the par- ties, and was otherwise at pains to probe the matter to the bottom; and from his general intelligence, and the character he bears, we believe the narrative will be found correct so far as it goes. About twenty-five years ago the .Perseverance, of Liverpool, while returning from Havannah with a valuable cargo, struck on a rock in the Irish channel, and soon become a total wreck. Among other articles, the Perseverance had a considerable quantity of specie on board—the fruit of three successful slave trips to the coast of Africa. A barrel filled with dollars stood on the deck, and when the vessel appeared to be sinking, the crew started the cask, and crammed their pockets so full of money, that several of them perished between the ship and the shore. The captain, it appears, had a private store of doubloons concealed under his bed, and was drowned in the cabin while in the act of carrying his treasure away. The catastrophe was much talked of at the time, but in the course of a few years the recollection of it entirely died away, and was revived, we must say, very lately, in rather a singular and romantic manner. The steam-packet Dasher, having put into Holyhead to un- dergo repair, the captain one day related the circumstance, and expressed his surprise that no attempt had been made to recover part of the treasure engulphed more than a quarter of a century ago. His words reached the ears of an enterprising Welshman, who immediately equipped a boat, provided a diving bell of a pecu- liar construction, and sailed for the spot that had been pointed out, and which is not far distant front Donaghadee. At first his appearance attracted little notice ; and as he was rather careful in concealing the bell, many a one imagined he Was catching fish, when he was actually engaged in fishing dollars. For nearly three months he plied his task when the weather was favourable, and with so much success, that it is confidently stated that he has recovered specie to the extent of 50,000/. At last the Donaghadee men got an " inkling " of what the cunning Welshman was about, and constructed a wooden bell of their own ; which is sunk by plates of iron affixed to the top, and is said to answer the pur- pose exceeding well. By his rivals in the new mode of angling, the Welshman was regarded as an interloper ; and they succeeded, by threats, in driving hien A farmer in Berkshire last week paid six pounds, at the rate of twopence each, for destroying 720 rats in one wheat rick. The devastation committed by these vermin is astonishing ; only four sacks were produced out of four loads. The man who acted as Jack Ketch at Carmarthen on Monday sennight, was a pensioner, who resides in Worcester, and who was induced by a handsome reward to undertake the office. The Pensioners' Club in that city were so indignant at one of their number undertaking the degrading office, that they have excluded the pro tempore executioner, first paying him the suns he had contributed to the club. —Gloucester Journal.
Such is the extraordinary produce of plums "and damsons in the neighbour- hood of Manchester, that they are scarcely worth the cost of taking to market. Indeed, many of the farmers say that they would gladly give one half of their pro- duce to any one who would gather the other half for them.—Manchester Mercury. Mr. Strutt, park-keeper to the Duke of Devonshire, at Chatsworth, killed two bucks at one shot last week ; the ball passed through the neck of the first, and struck a second mortally. For a trifling wager a young man undertook some days ago to eat twelve muffins, twelve eggs, three rounds of buttered toast, and six pats of butter, and drink one eallon and three pints of coffee. He actually accomplished his task, and gained hisbet, in one hour and three-quarters,---Times. During the voyage ofthe Hector, of this port, recently arrived from Cuba, a duck having laid some eggs, the drake finding it was going to sit, plucked itself nearly bare of its feathers, to enable the duck to form its nest !—Bristol Mercury. REMARKABLE CASE OF Heunornoma.—On the 9th of June last, Mr. Hervey received a slight wound in the cheek from a house-dog, which he kept chained in the yard ; but the hurt was so trifling that no notice was taken of it at the time. The following morning, Mr. Hervey svent forward to the dog to ca- ress and fondle him; when the animal seized him by the fleshy part of the arm, inflicting a sad and painful wound. Mr. Hervey lost no time in repairing to Bel- fast, and waiting on Dr. Purdon, who cut the wounded part out of the arm ; but nothing was done with the cheek until the next day, when it was cauterized. For some time he followed the advice and prescriptions of Dr. Purdon, until his arm healed up, and he apparently began to think that the danger was not so great as he at first apprehended. The dog had been killed immediately after biting him, so that it was not actually ascertained whether the animal was in a rabid state or not. Mr. Hervey at length began to relax in the regularity with which he had been wont to take the medicine prescribed. Nothing particular occurred till the first of September, twelve weeks from the day he received tine first wound. On that day, feeling ill, he sent for Dr. O'Neill, of Comber ; who communicated to his friend, Mr. Miller, his decided opinion that Mr. Hervey had all the symp- toms of confirmed hydrophobia. Mr. Miller then sat down by his bed-side, and tried to soothe hint; but he shook his head and replied, '' No, Miller," I am no child; I know my fate is sealed ; but the will of God be done !" He could talk of water without the smallest concern ; but he seemed totally at a loss to account for the appearance of it giving him so much uneasiness and horror. He asked Mr. Miller Hite thought he could shave himself. Sir. Miller fearing that his hand would not be steady enough, proposed that the operation should be done by an- other person. The application of the soap to the face made him shudder with involuntary dread; but after preparing himself, and shutting his eyes, he was at last able to allow the operation to proceed. Whenever the razor touched his face a slight shudder succeeded. Mr. M'Cullough and Mr. Miller remained with hint during the night. He tried to take some milk, but when it was placed before him, he felt a slight shock on touching it. He was at length able to take two or three sips; when suddenly raising himself up in bed, and speak- ing very rapidly, he said he was choking, and cried out for a door to be opened ; but no sooner was this done than he exclaimed, " Oh ! shut — shut —shut —the air, the cold air—I cannot bear it !" He shortly afterwards took some morphine dropped on sugar. In a few minutes more he called for one of his friends, and requested him to bold his head that lie might try to sleep. Mr. Miller complied ; but in about three minutes afterwards be was seized with a spasms, accompanied by horrid and terrific distortion of countenance. Mr. Miller rushed from the bed in an agony of horror, and had only strength sufficient to tell Mr. M'Cullough to take his place. Instantly Mr. Hervey jumped up in bed, crying to his horror-struck and almost paralysed friends, "I see you, boys—I see you, boys ! " and then, as:it were mastering his exeru. dating agony by a powerful effort, he continued in a calm but scarcely less terrific tone ; " It is all over—call the house—send for a doctor." His friends gazed in speechless horror for a few seconds ; and the silence was at last broken by the unfortunate sufferer, who, observing that they were making a movement as if to leave the room, called out, "Miller, Miller, do not leave me—be a man ; 'tis over, and I am again quite collected ; do not be frightened—depend on it I will not harm you." " No, may dear Hervey," replied the other, "I will not leave you, I have promised to stay with you to the last; and cost what it may, I will keep my word." His friends being now somewhat recovered from-their fright, asked where the men slept. He immediately answered, "above stairs," and desired Mr. Miller to call them. When that gentleman left the room, Mr. Hervey said to Mr. M'Cullough that he would conic out of the bed. This Mr. McCullough protested against ; and the other immediately replied, "You are right ; but for God's sake do not leave me. I am perfectly in my senses; but oh ! that dreadful torment is beyond the power of man to bear. If you leave Inc I cannot prevent myself from jumping out of the window." Ilis friend assured him he would. not leave him, and requested him to lie down. He replied with much vehemence, "Oh ! do not ask me, do not ask!" but immediately adding, "sure you are not afraid of me ? indeed, you need not be afraid." And his friend protesting that he was not, he held out his hand with an affectionate look ; " Shake hands with me," said lie; and then, grasping Mr. WPCullough's hands, he blessed him. Ina moment he became perfectly calm ; his voice resuming its usual tone, and his countenance its wonted serenity. By this time Mr. Miller had returned from sending for the doctor, and awakening the inmates of the house. Calmly and collectedly the sufferer then addressed his friend, " I did not expect this," said he, "so soon. I thought I should have had a little more warning. I knew it was to come, but I did not expect it till to-morrow." llis aunt and a young lady, also a relation, came into the room. He shook them both affectionately by the hand, and said, " I would be glad to kiss you; but dare not, for fear of con- sequences." During one of the intervals, hearing his watch tick on the table, he said, " Is not that my watch ?" On being told that it was, he called one of his friends forward, to whom he expressed himself under many obligations. " Here, my dear friend," said he, " take this watch and wear it as a memento of your friend, poor John Hervey ; and when you have occasion to look how the time passes, sometimes think of me, and the circumstances under which I gave you this memorial of my friendship." He made several beautiful prayers, and then. asked Mr. Reid, a young clergyman, who was present, and of whom he expressed a very high opinion, to pray with hint. The fits now became more frequent, and he requested Mr. McCullough and Mr. Miller to hold his hands. Every attack continued longer, and appeared more severe. At about half-past one o'clock, he said he felt a curious sensation—it was in his limbs, as if he were pricked with the finest needles—a pricking, as if the finest silver-barbed arrows were darting through every portion of his body ; he said it was altogether a most delightful sensation. His nerves became most sensitive, The least noise in the room—a change in the light of the candle—the moving of a shadow on the wall—a relaxation or compression of the hands of those that held him, gave him the most excruciating pain; and he would exclaim, with a away. Still, they were a day behind the fair, and it is generally supposed that the harvest was so well gathered previously, that little but the gleanings remain behind. When our informant passed the spot, and saw the men at work, they had only the quantities of sludge the bell had raised along with some other articles belonging to the vessel. Among other things, a bar of iron was shown, indented from end to end with the mark of dollars ; and from this circumstance they were in good hopes that a considerable quantity of specie remains behind. We shall be glad to hear of their future success, and that the business has proved a paying flue before the dark days of winter set in. In returning home, the Weidman touched at the Isle of Man, where another friend of ours sawehins last week, and also inspected some of the dollars. Most of them, he says, are completely out of shape, and have been as much transformed by pressure, or the action of water, as silver is when exposed to the action of fire.—Dumfries Courier. heart-rending voice, that it was cruel so to use him. Shortly after this, the saliva began to make a noise in his throat ; he lost his voice; but he showed, by
significant gestures, that he was perfectly aware of all that was passing around him. As the fits came on him, he appeared to place himself in that position as if • he wished to rest on his head and heels, while his body moved quickly up and down, accompanying such motion with an agonizing groan. These fits at length ceased, and he lay from ten to fifteen minutes so still that all except those in the bedroom with him supposed he was either dead or dying. Suddenly, with a voice loud and strong, as if in perfect health, he exclaimed, " Here boys, do your duty." The awful moment which he had dreaded, and vainly hoped to escape, had come. He bedame dreadfully convulsed ; every muscle was distended
to the utmost stretch ; while the spasms, commencing at his stomach, seemed to roll up like a large mass to his throat, where the breath rattled hideously, as if vainly seeking a vent. Mr. McCullough andMr. Miller seized his wrist, while the Rev. Mr. Reid laid himself down across him. He struggled dreadfully, and ap- peared to wish to get himself out of bed. He screamed with the most appalling agony, and called for Dr. O'Neill to cut his jugular vein. He besought his friends about him to put an end to his horrible torments, if they had the smallest spark of pity remaining in them. Some of his labourers came in and assisted in holding him down. So intolerable was the dreadful agony of the sufferer, that he threat- ened to bite those who held him, if they did not kill hint or let him up. Fearing that the courage of the men might fail, Mr. Miller called on them to remain firm, if they valued their existence. Upon hearing this, the tortured sufferer exclaimed, " Miller, you savage, I will never forgive, you I" He continued beseeching those about him alternately, to put an end to his pain ; when, finding all ineffectual, he mid out, " If ever the soul be allowed to haunt those who have done them wrong, I will return and torment you all." tie then ceased shouting, but three or four times he was heard to say, in an under tone, " Severe, terrible I" in a manner that showed lie was perfectly sensible, though the agony in the height of the pa- roxysm was too great for even man in his senses to bear. His voice began to change, as if suffocating; he could articulate nothing, but he frequently pressed the hands of his friends, as if intimating his gratitude for their having fulfilled the arduous task he assigned them. At twenty minutes to four, squeezing the hand of one of his friends, and breathing his name, he expired.--ilbridgell from the Be!- fast Northern Way.
KEAN AS lIE WAS AND AS HE is.—The world knows pretty well, by this time, what kind of actor Kean is. He is one whom Nature, in her mercy, threw upon
the stage, to redeem it from the still' frigidity of tight-laced art. She bestowed upon him strong passions and acute feelings, and she desired him to give them free and spontaneous scope. The actor caught her meaning, for the understand- ing of it was inherent in him ; and taking to himself plenty of elbow-room, he knocked at the heart of his audience boldly and at once, and if the door was not willingly opened to him, lie threw himself against it with all his weight, and forced it. Some there were who said, there was no grace, no study, no refinement in his style,—that it was coarse and vulgar, and against all rule ; but he dashed on, regardless of their prating, and he carried mankind along with him in spite of themselves. The old sober spectacled critics looked at him as they would have done at Joshua commanding the sun and moon to stand still, shook their heads, confessed they did not understand him, and so went home td bed. But lie held the theatre breathless, or stirred it into thunder, as he chose; and, therefore, there was in him the invisible lire, the existence of which men know and feel, though they cannot describe or catch it. Let all his faults be granted, for they cannot be concealed ;—he was a shabby little creature, with a harsh voice, and uninteresting features,—at times he ranted, and at other times he was to tame, —he had some tricks too, to catch the gallery,—he had none of the patrician dignity of Kemble, none of the gentlemanly ease of Young ;—let all this be granted,—so much the better for Kean,—for we should like to know what it was, after all, that so many thousands of people squeezed their sides out to see ? Was it not this one small man because he had acquired a mastery over their
souls? and what more can be said of the mightiest minds that ever lived ? But Kean (though he is still the best actor we have) has fallen off; and when we say so, we mean ourselves to be understood in the fullest accepta- tion of the term, without making any ridiculous distinction between physical strength and mental power. The two are inseparably conjoined. If a mart's body grow weak, his mind, to all intents and purposes, grows weak also. Sickness and dissipation have made terrible havoc with Kean ; and the consequence is, that his whole manner is now tamed down, and that half his wonted fire is extinct. His style is far more pompous and elocutionary than it used to be; and this is an alternative which debility has forced upon him. He now mouths and journeys slowly through many passages, to which in his better days, he would have given all the force of nervous and rapid utterance. Let nobody suppose that this is a voluntary change, because time has chastened his judg- ment. Judgment was never iiean's forte; but when his blood dashed strongly through his veins, he yielded to the quick impulses of the moment, and these im- pulses were true to nature. But now they come more rarely, and are feebler when they do come. He has not so much blood as he once had, and a great deal of Kean's best acting lay in his blood. He is like a good race-horse somewhat stricken in years ; he walks over a course which he has often galloped round, a hundred yards a-head of all competitors ; yet now and then he starts off into his old pace, and the common spectator ignorantly imagines he is as able to win the cup as before.—Edinburgh literary Journal.
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