self in and out when you please! To come in like a thief, in the middle of the night, instead of knocking at the door like a decent person! Oh, don't tell me that you only want to prevent me sitting up-if I choose to sit up, what's that to you? Some wives, indeed, would make a noise about sitting up, but you've no reason to complain -goodness knows! Well, upon my word, I've lived to hear something. Carry the street-door key about with you! I've heard of such things with good-for-nothing bachelors, with nobody to care what became of 'em; but for a married man to leave his wife and children in a house with the door upon the latch-don't talk to me about Chubb; it's all the same-a great deal you must care for us. Yes, it's very well for you to say, that you only want the key for peace and quietness-what's it to you, if I like to sit up? You've no business to complain; it can't distress you. Now, it's no use your talking; all I say is this, Caudle: if you send a man to put on any lock here, I'll call in a policeman; as I'm your married wife, I will! No, I think when a man comes to have the street-door key, the sooner he turns bachelor again the better. I'm sure, Caudle, I don't want to be any clog upon you. No, it's no use your telling me to hold my tongue, for I-what? I give you the head-ache, do I? No, I don't, Caudle: it's your club that gives you the head-ache: it's your smoke, and your-well! if ever I knew such a man in all my life! there's no saying a word to you! You go out, and treat yourself like an emperor-and come home at twelve at night, or any hour, for what I know-and then you threaten to have a key, and-and-and "I did get to sleep at last," says Caudle, "amidst the falling sentences of 'take children into a lodging'-' separate maintenance'-' won't be made a slave of-and so forth." WHERE ARE WE? end, a most important step has already been taken : the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland has had its existence as a partially-endowed church, with a theological university, and the ecclesiastical rank of its prelates, recognized. Such have been the beginnings of the endowment of the Roman Catholic Church in every country in Europe. The attempt to shut our eyes would be vain-the fact stares us in the face, that there are in Ireland two churches, unequal in point of revenue, but equal in political privilege-both recognized by the state as capable of holding, as deserving to possess, permanent endowments. Moreover, the state has practically asserted a right to pare down the emoluments of the one to some proportion with the number of its members, and to sanction if not directly to contribute to the augmentation of the emoluments of the other, on the same principle. This change in the position of the Roman Catholic Church in Ireland has not been the consequence of underhand intrigues or illegal violence. It has been brought about by the legitimate exercise of political power, through the constitutional organs of government. It has been the inevitable consequence of the advance of the Roman Catholic body in Ireland in wealth and intelligence. The Roman Catholics were received within the pale of the constitution because it was felt that a real power (and such they were) can only work safely by being made part of the system exposed to its pressure. Once admitted within the pale of the constitution, they necessarily exercised their due proportion of influence. It is not to be expected that the majority of the Irish people will be satisfied to see their church treated with less respect than the church of the majority in England or Scotland. It is well to contemplate the change in progress in its full extent; for sooner or later it will be necessary to do so. The religion of an individual is (or ought to be) the system of opinions he has conscientiously adopted after mature deliberation. But the ecclesiastical arrangements of a state necessarily depend upon the balance of political powers. It is not enough to demonstrate that any IN 1829, the Roman Catholics of Ireland were admitted to Parliament, and made capable of hold-abstract form of civil or ecclesiastical government ing high offices of state. In 1831, the reform bill made the representatives of the Roman Catholic electors a majority of the Irish members of parliament. In 1834, the Protestant Episcopal staff of Ireland was curtailed. In 1844, Roman Catholics were appointed members of the Board for superintending Charitable Bequests in Ireland; government sanctioned and encouraged Irish proprietors to provide permanent endowments by voluntary contributions for the erection of Roman Catholic chapels and the support of Roman Catholic priests; and three prelates of the Irish Roman Catholic Church were nominated commissioners, by their diocesan titles. In 1845, the annual parliamentary grant towards the support of the Roman Catholic clerical seminary of Maynooth is to be increased and made permanent. This is the work of sixteen years. During that brief space, the Roman Catholics of Ireland have been placed on a footing of political equality with their Protestant fellow-subjects; and, as a matter of course, have been exerting themselves to place their church on a footing of equality with the Protestant Church-or churches. Towards this is "wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best;" the political powers which are to give life and motion to its constitutional forms must preexist. In framing your government, you must take into account the men who are to work it. One established privileged church is possible where dissentients from its doctrines and discipline are so few and poor as to possess no political influence; but where the dissentients are, though not equal in power, yet strong enough to defy compulsion, a compromise is inevitable. In this case, there are only two ways open to a government-either to patronize religion in the abstract by providing for the maintenance of all churches, (at least of all whose members possess political power;) or to leave every church to support itself. This is the great practical question that is now edging its way into public notice. When it is grasped in this its broad generality, opinion will array itself under the banners of two great parties; but till then, a succession of alliances for the day or hour, among men of the most discordant opinions, will provoke alternate laughter and disgust.-Spectator, April 26. From Hood's Magazine. public interest kept alive concerning this singular The month of February commenced, and with it the Carnival, which passed with its customary gaiety and bustle. Towards its close there were, as usual, various processions and pageants, and at last came the closing day, the Mardi Gras upon which the old mummer Carnival was to play his final gambols before yielding up the field to Dame Carême and her austerities. According to custom, the peregrinations of the judges drew together a mob which was kept continually on the grin by the farcical trials that took place in this peripatetic lit de justice, and by the comical verdicts rendered by the wigged and black-robed judges. Laughter, however, although said to fatten, does not keep off the attacks of hunger, and towards the close of the afternoon, the car was turned into a court-yard, and judges, counsellors, and witnesses, repaired to a neighboring hotel to refresh themselves. Of the crowd that had been following, one portion dispersed through the adjacent streets, and another lingered about in groups, waiting the reappearance of the pageant that had afforded them so much amusement. TOWARDS the commencement of the present century, the Count Hector de Larolles, a Languedocian gentleman of ancient family, returned to Toulouse from the south of Italy, where he had been for some time resident, and took up his abode at his hotel in the Rue St. Marc. The count, who two years previously had left France as a widower, reentered it as the husband of a young and beautiful woman, the daughter of a poor but honorable Neapolitan family. It was probably more her straitened circumstances, and the brilliant position offered her by a union with the count, than any very strong attachment to that nobleman, which had induced Donna Olivia to accept the hand of a man whose age tripled hers; and very shortly after their arrival at Toulouse, it became reported, among the more observant and scandalloving portion of the society in which they mixed, that the count had already begun to taste the bitters of an ill-assorted union. His wife was affirmed to show him marked coldness and repugnance, and there were also some malicious persons who did not scruple to say that Monsieur de Larolles had cause for jealousy in the attentions paid to the countess by an officer of the garrison who was a frequent visitor at his house. This was a Swiss, from the Italian canton of Tesino, who had entered the French army at an early age, and was now a major in the service. His reputation was that of a soldier of fortune, brave as steel, but tolerably unscrupulous; his person was strikingly handsome, his age about thirty years. A friend of the count's, with whom Major Ruoli was intimate, had introduced him at the Hotel Larolles, where he had gradually become a constant visitor. For a long time his attentions to the countess, and the evident willingness with which she received them, escaped the notice of the unsuspicious count, who, at last, however, had his attention directed to them by some more observant friend. A violent scene between Monsieur de Larolles andered over by an ample green cloth, with the exhis wife was the consequence, and although the lady managed to exculpate herself to a certain extent, the result was that orders were given to the domestics not to admit Major Ruoli when he presented himself at the house. Ruoli called there repeatedly, but as, according to the statement of the porter, no one was ever at home, he at last seemed to take the hint as it was meant, and entirely ceased his visits. This occurred towards the close of summer. About a month afterwards the Count de Larolles suddenly disappeared, and no tidings could be obtained of him. He had left his hotel at dusk one evening, and had never returned. The countess had gone out to call upon a friend, and the count, on leaving the house, had not, as was sometimes his habit, mentioned to his valet de chambre where he was going. No one had observed what direction he had taken, nor had he been anywhere seen. Inquiry and search were alike in vain. The count was not to be found. This reappearance took place much sooner than was expected. Less than half an hour had elapsed since the car had entered the stable-yard, when the gates were again thrown open, the vehicle drove out and turned down a neighboring street. There was a considerable change, however, in the manner in which it was occupied. The masked postilions were upon their horses, but no one appeared upon the car itself, which, instead of being occupied by the tribunal, desks, and other apparatus of a court of justice, was now cov ception of one end, where a kind of small canvass tent or pavilion had been erected. The curiosity of the spectators was strongly stimulated by this unusual change, and they eagerly followed the vehicle as it proceeded through various streets and finally entered the spacious Rue St. Marc. Although only in the middle of March, spring had fully set in at Toulouse; the trees were bursting into leaf, and the air was mild and balmy. As the car passed by, people leaned out of their open windows and gazed at the huge machine that lumbered along and seemed to shake the very ground under its wheels. On arriving near the middle of the Rue St. Marc, the postilions pulled up their horses opposite a house of stately appearance, along the ample façade of which ran long ranges of deep balconies, composed of iron work fancifully designed and richly gilt, and overshadowed by festooned awnings of striped linen. The tall windows of the first floor were open, and from the opposite side of the street a glimpse might be Madame de Larolles was apparently in despair obtained of the interior of a drawing-room, the inat this sudden disappearance of her husband. mates of which now approached the balcony, Messengers were despatched in every direction; seemingly disposed to gratify their curiosity by a friends, to whose houses he might possibly have view of the car, at the same time that, to avoid the betaken himself, were written to, pains and ex-gaze of the throng, they kept themselves in some pense were lavished in order to discover him. For measure concealed behind the costly exotics that nearly two months the countess seemed to enter- partially filled the balcony. tain hopes, and for nearly as long a time was the A minute or two elapsed without any change taking place in the appearance of the car. The seemed about to gain the bank, but the officer crowd remained in mute expectation. Suddenly, advanced closer to the water's edge, and, as the however, by some invisible hand or machinery, the swimmer approached, drew his sword from under green covering was rolled aside, and a sort of his cloak and dealt him a heavy blow upon the mimic stage appeared, on which was represented head. The next instant the old man disappeared, a river and its bank. The water, skilfully imi- and the river flowed on, tranquil as before. The tated by painted paper or linen, seemed to flow murderer and the lady gazed for an instant at the tranquilly along, while the bank itself was cov- water, then at each other, and hurried off the ered with artificial turf and flowers and backed by stage. The postilions lashed their horses, and a low hedge of shrubs and brushwood. This the car drove away at a smart pace. This time, hedge, which was composed of pasteboard, arose however, none of the spectators followed it. The suddenly out of the cart, in the manner that such attention of all was rivetted on the house before things are frequently managed upon a theatre, and which this scene had passed, and which was no at the same time there appeared a small stone other than the hotel Larolles. chapel, containing an image of the virgin Mary, and surmounted by a cross. The effect of the whole representation was highly natural; and, to judge from the exclamations audible amongst the surrounding crowd, apparently recalled to their recollection some familiar scene. It was in fact a miniature but exact copy of a secluded and remarkably lovely spot on the banks of the Garonne, and at the distance of a short half-league from Toulouse. This part of the river-side had once been a resort of the towns-people, but a fatal and particularly savage duel, that had been fought there some years previously, and in memory of which the cross and chapel had been placed there, had attached unpleasant associations to it, and caused it, since that time, to be rather avoided than otherwise. On the balcony of that mansion a young and lovely woman now showed herself, uttering those thrilling and quick-repeated shrieks that, even in women, are only elicited by the most extreme agony of mind or body. She was attired in mourning garments, but of the most tasteful and coquetish materials and arrangement of which that description of apparel will admit, although her dress was now disordered by the violence with which she had pushed through the plants and thrown herself against the front of the balcony. Her beautiful features were convulsed and deadly pale, and she clutched the railing with both hands, while she struggled violently to extricate herself from the grasp of a very handsome man in a rich uniform, who strove by mingled force and entreaty to get her back in the house. The lady was the Countess de Larolles, the officer was Major Ruoli. Scarcely had this scene been disclosed, when, from the small tent at one end of the cart, two actors appeared upon it. They were both masked, The broken sentences uttered, or rather screamed, and one of them wore a blue military cloak and cap, by the countess, who was apparently in a paroxysm while the other, a woman, was closely muffled in of insanity, were distinctly audible to the persons a dark silk cardinal, which nevertheless allowed in the street. She accused herself as the murthe outline of a young and graceful figure to be deress of her husband, and Ruoli as her accomdistinguishable. At the slowest possible pace plice. The latter at last succeeded in dragging they walked along the bank of the simulated her into the room, of which the windows were stream, apparently in earnest conversation, the immediately shut. It was only then that some female hanging familiarly on the arm of her com- of the crowd thought of following the movable panion, on whose face her eyes were rivetted. theatre upon which had been enacted the drama Before they had proceeded half the length of the that had been followed by such an extraordinary truly Thespian stage on which they were exhibit-scene of real life. Car and horses were found a ing, they were followed out of the tent by a third figure, who approached them with stealthy step. This was a man whose hair was silvered and form slightly bowed by age, and on beholding whom a movement of surprise took place in the crowd, while the name "Count de Larolles!" passed from mouth to mouth. At the same time a halfstifled shriek was heard proceeding from the balcony of the magnificent hotel opposite to which the pageant was enacting. The old man upon the cart arrived close to the figures of the officer and the lady, without their observing him. He seemed to listen for a moment; then fiercely grasped an arm of each. In the dumb show that ensued, it was evident that a violent discussion was going on between these three persons. The old man seemed much agitated, and was the most violent in his gesticulations. Once he grasped the officer by the collar, but the latter disengaged himself, and he then seemed to turn his anger upon the lady. Then, and as if moved to sudden anger by something the old man said, the officer seized him in his turn. There was a struggle, but the antagonists were too unequally matched for it to be a long one, and in a moment the grey-haired old man was hurled backwards into the river. The fictitious waters opened to receive him. Once only he arose, and short distance off, standing in a solitary corner behind a fragment of the old city wall; but the car was empty, and there was nobody with it. Even the postilions had disappeared. That same evening Major Ruoli and the Countess de Larolles were arrested, by order of the authorities, on suspicion of the murder of the count. The countess was in a raging fever, unable to be moved, and for a long time her life was in danger; but on her recovery, she made a full avowal of the crime to which she had been an accessory. The truth of her confession, had there been any reason to doubt it, was confirmed by the discovery of the count's body, which had floated down into a solitary nook of the river, several hundred yards below the spot where he had lost his life, and had remained concealed amongst rushes and alder trees. His features were unrecognizable, but his dress and various other particulars were abundant evidence to prove his identity. His skull was indented by the blow of Ruoli's sabre. Finally, Ruoli, was sent to the galleys, and the countess sentenced to imprisonment for a term of years. Fever and remorse, however, had played havoc with her constitution, and she died a few months afterwards. Previously to the trial, which excited immense rally devoted to what may be called the romance of advertising. The advertisements which appear in that place are mysterious as melodramas, and puzzling as rebuses. Some of them are worded after the following fashion: "TO CHARLES.-Be at the pastry-cook's at the corner of S street, at two. Jemima is well interest at the time, and of which we are informed No plausible conjecture could be formed as to the motives of the person who had become acquainted with the commission of the murder for not sooner, and in a more direct and open manner, bringing forward his evidence concerning it. Some supposed that having been a hidden eye-witness of the deed, he apprehended being himself liable to punishment for not having made an effort to prevent it; others supposed that he feared Major Ruoli, who was known to be violent and reckless; and a third conjecture was, that it was some person of indifferent character, who thought his unsupported testimony would not find credence when brought against people of rank and influence. Whatever the motives may have been, and although there were evidently at least five persons connected with the masquerade, the secret was well kept, and to this day the affair remains shrouded in mystery. From Chambers' Journal. Out of such an advertisement, a novelist of ordinary tact might construct a whole plot. "Charles" is a lover; the course of whose love has been crossed by some inquisitive papa or guardian; he has been forbidden the house of his adored Jemima. Correspondence by post is also impracticable; so the lovers advertise one another in the Times. Happily, the lady has a confidante, to whom is intrusted the advertising department of the affair. The above is an assignation concocted by her ingenuity, and signed with her name. Perhaps a week after, another announcement in the same column will furnish the novelist with the catastrophe. It runs thus : "TO THE YOUNG LADY who was last seen at the pastry-cook's at the corner of S street. You are implored to return home immediately, and all will be forgiven." The fact is, Jemima met Charles punctually, and eloped with him from the bun-shop. Her father has relented; and as no further advertisements can be detected from the same parties, it is fair to infer that their little family differences have been made up; that Charles and Jemima are married, and are as happy as they deserve to be. Occasionally, however, we find this interesting column occupied with notices which force upon us more painful inferences. A young man has defrauded his employers, and absconded; and his parents invoke him, by the initials of his name, to disclose the amount of his defalcations. In other instances, a cowardly bankrupt has run away from his creditors, and left his wife to bear the brunt of their importunities. She implores him, through the Times, to return and help her through the difficulty. Beneath such brief tales of mystery are usually advertised articles which have been lost or stolen. These vary in style, from the coarse and mercenary offer of "One sovereign reward," to the delicate hint that "If the lady who took the ermine cloak away by mistake from the Marchioness of Crampton's rout on Thursday evening will send the same to the owner, her own camlet wrapper will be returned to her." One of the most refined of this class actually appeared in its proper place a few months since. As a superfine appeal to the susceptible sentiments of a couple of pickpockets, it has no equal in the history of advertising: ADVERTISEMENTS OF THE TIMES." IN the whole range of periodical literature, there is no greater curiosity than the columns daily devoted to advertisements in the Times newspaper. From those ponderous pages the future historian will be able to glean ample and correct information relative to the social habits, wants, and peculiarities of this empire. How we travel, by land or sea-how we live, and move, and have our being -is fully set forth in the different announcements which appear in a single copy of that journal. The means of gratifying the most boundless desires, or the most fastidious taste, are placed within the knowledge of any one who chooses to consult its crowded columns. Should a man wish to make an excursion to any part of the globe between Cape Horn and the North Pole, to any port in India, to Australia, to Africa, or to China, he can, by the aid of one number of the Times, make his arrangements over his breakfast. In the first column he will find which "A. I. fine, fast-sailing, copper-bottomed” vessel is ready to take him to any of these distant ports. Or, should his travelling aspirations be of a less extended nature, he can inform himself of the names, size, horsepower, times of starting, and fares, of numberless steamers which ply within the limits of British Succeeding the "Lost and Stolen," it is usual seas. Whether, in short, he wishes to be con- to find one or two of those heart-stirring appeals veyed five miles-from London to Greenwich-to the benevolent which-despite the efforts of the or three thousand-from Liverpool to New York -information equally conclusive is afforded him. The head of the second, or sometimes the third column, is interesting to a more extensive range of readers—namely, to the curious; for it is gene "IF the clever artists, male and female, who combined to relieve an elderly gentleman of his letter-case and purse on Friday evening last will return the former, with the papers it contained, they will oblige. The case and papers are of no use to them." Mendicity Society-have maintained many an impostor in idleness for years together. Like Puff, in Sheridan's "Critic," these advertisers support themselves upon their (assumed) misfortunes, by means of the proceeds of addresses "to the chari table and humane," or "to those whom Provi-tric appeals. Foremost among these we place dence has blessed with affluence." The account the annexed little autobiography from a person which Puff gives of his fictitious misfortunes so who advertised himself on the 22d of last Feblittle exaggerates the advertisements which appear ruary as occasionally in the Times, that we quote it. "I "A CHARACTER.-The noblemen and gentlesuppose," he boasts, "never man went through men of England are respectfully informed that the such a series of calamities in the same space of advertiser is a self-taught man-a genius.' He time. I was five times made a bankrupt, and re- has travelled (chiefly on foot) through the United duced from a state of affluence by a train of un- Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, in Holland, avoidable misfortunes. Then, though a very Germany, Switzerland, Belgium, France, and industrious tradesman, I was twice burnt out, and Italy. He has conducted a popular periodical, lost my little all both times. I lived upon those written a work of fiction in three vols., published fires a month. I soon after was confined by a a system of theology, composed a drama, studied most excruciating disorder, and lost the use of my Hamlet, been a political lecturer, a preacher, a limbs. That told very well; for I had the case village schoolmaster, a pawnbroker, a general strongly attested, and went about to collect the shopkeeper; has been acquainted with more than subscriptions myself! Afterwards, I was a close one founder of a sect, and is now (he thanks prisoner in the Marshalsea for a debt benevolently Providence) in good health, spirits, and character, contracted to serve a friend. I was then reduced out of debt, and living in charity with all mankind. to-oh no-then I became a widow with six help- During the remainder of his life he thinks he less children. Well, at last, what with bank-would feel quite at home as secretary, amanuruptcies, fires, gouts, dropsies, imprisonments, and ensis, or companion to any nobleman or gentleman other valuable calamities, having got together a who will engage a once erratic but now sedate pretty handsome sum, I determined to quit a busi- being, whose chief delight consists in seeing and ness which had always gone rather against my making those around him cheerful and happy. conscience." The police reports testify that Address A. Z., at Mr. P―'s, B― street, Repathetic advertisements, equally unfounded, find gent's Park." their way into the third column of the Times, It would appear that the self-praise thus pubdespite the utmost vigilance of the clerks. Some, lished sometimes requires a little help; hence, beon the other hand, are manifestly from objects sides, "undoubted ability" and "unexceptionable worthy both of credit and of relief. Of the latter, references," a douceur is occasionally offered "to we select one which appeared on the 7th of any one who will procure the advertiser a reFebruary, 1844, and which bears evident marks spectable situation." This "sweetener" we have of genuineness. Addressing the sympathies of known to vary from five to five thousand pounds, the benevolent by the borrowed aid of a popular" according to the emoluments." Despite, howfiction was a happy thought :ever, all eccentricities, deception, and other evils, TO THE BROTHERS CHEERYBLE, or any who have there can be no question that through the adverhearts like theirs. A clergyman, who will gladly tising columns of the Times many a servant has communicate his name and address, desires to in-procured a good situation, and many a master has troduce the case of a gentleman, equal at least to been indebted for a valuable servant. As a speciNickelby in birth, worthy, like him, for refine-men of the appeals, the truth of which it is diffiment of character, even of the best descent; like cult to doubt, we print the following. The ficklehim, of spotless integrity, and powerfully beloved ness of fortune is strongly exemplified by the fact by friends who cannot help him, but no longer, of a gentleman of “high rank" seeking the humlike Nickleby, sustained by the warm buoyancy of blest employment youthful blood. The widowed father of young "IT would be a noble act of humanity if any children, he has spent his all in the struggles of generous and kind-hearted individual would proan unsuccessful but honorable business, and has cure or grant employment to a suffering individual, now for eighteen months been vainly seeking some in whose behalf this appeal is made. He is of stipendiary employment. To all who have ever high rank, education, and manners, and in every known him he can refer for commendation. Being point of view fit to fill any situation. He is withwell versed in accounts, though possessed of edu-out influential friends, and, from complicated frauds cation, talents, and experience, which would render him invaluable as a private secretary, he would accept with gratitude even a clerk's stool and daily bread. Any communication addressed to the Rev. B. C., post-office, Cambridge, will procure full particulars, ample references, and the introduction of the party, who is now in town, and ignorant of this attempt to serve him." and misfortunes, is unable to continue the education of eight lovely children. He seeks nothing for himself, except to be so placed, giving to the hands of his kind benefactor all he receives for his children's present and future support. This will save him from a broken heart. Any situation that will enable him to effect this object will be received with heartfelt gratitude, and filled with honor, assiduity, and fidelity. Most respectable reference, &c. N. B. No pecuniary assistance can be received." The succeeding couple of columns in the first page of the Times usually display the multifarious wants" which an endless variety of desiderators are anxious to get satisfied. Situations by far out- The "want" which usually succeeds that for number the other wants. A governess, a gar- situations is common at some time or other of his dener, an editor, a schoolmaster, a tailor, a clerk, life to every living being. The bottom of the fifth or a shopman, who is in want of employment, column of the Times generally contains some halfseeks it through the pages of the Times news-dozen announcements that X. Y. or A. B. wants paper. The accomplished, intellectual, honest, money. In a modern comedy, one of the characmoral, in short, "unexceptionable" characters, ters, with a view to borrowing, tells a rich friend who thus paint their own portraits, give to the" that he is terribly in want of a thousand pounds." fourth and fifth column of the leading journal The other, with a comprehensive experience of the semblance of a catalogue of spotless worthies. the world, replies, "I have no doubt of it; for you Some, again, try to gain employment by eccen- I may take it as a rule that every man wants a thou |