THE LATE TRIAL FOR MURDER.-We last month noticed the curious coincidence which existed between the circumstances connected with two murders, which had then recently taken place. The trial for one of those murders has ended in the acquittal of the prisoner. The evidence given in the case would form matter for one of the most interesting of the Causes Célèbres of the country, and exhibited to the jury and the public, not only the unequivocal innocence of the accused grandson, but the most extraordinary instance of paternal hatred and inveteracy on the part of the prisoner's father that can well be imagined. The motives for this inveteracy must have been extremely strong, and the necessity for referring to those motives acutely painful to him who, in his own vindication, was compelled to attract particular attention to them. Whether the necessity of this reference will lead to any further measures against the unnatural parent, we know not; certain it is, that there must be a yet unremedied defect in the practical part of our criminal law, for upon the occasion of this trial, in the first instance, the difficulty-and at last it was matter of compulsion-in getting anybody to prosecute, was enormous. Whether a similar disinclination in the second instance will leave matters as they are, we cannot pretend to say, but really the circumstances and conversations which were in evidence on the trial of the young Bodle, appear fully to justify an investigation into the conduct of the elder one.

SIR PETER LAURIE.-The corporation of London have voted the late Lord Mayor, Sir Peter Laurie, their thanks for his conduct in the chair during his year of magnificence, and we believe, from what we hear from those who understand the thing, and care about it, that no chief magistrate ever conducted himself with greater assiduity, urbanity, and, above all, civically speaking, hospitality, than Sir Peter. The corporation, however, anxious as they were to express their sense of the worthy Alderman's services, thought proper to qualify their praise with a little censure, as the brewers embitter their beer with hops to make it more palatable; in the present instance they failed in their attempt to be agreeable.

They made an allusion, in the vote of thanks, to Sir Peter's manner of examining prisoners at the Mansion-House, against themselves, that is to say, to his putting such questions as, if fairly answered, must criminate the party answering, and maintaining his right to elicit the truth by any means in his power. Sir Peter, in acknowledging the tribute to his merits, replies in a bold, manly manner to their reference to his defect; and, avowing the goodness of his intentions, appeals to the fact of several convictions of swindlers and vagabonds, of all descriptions, as a proof of the advantages derivable from his system.

Now we of ourselves have a very strong opinion as to the extent to which police examinations should be carried. It is quite clear that, upon the principle at present generally adopted at the different public offices, the prisoner is tried there in the first instance. He comes attended by barristers sometimes, and almost always by an attorney, who displays all the trickery of his craft-not to protect his client upon his trial before a jury of his countrymen-but to evade the questions of the magistrate, and avoid-not exculpation after evidence-but detection in his rogueries. Upon the guilt or innocence of an accused man a jury of his country

men are to decide. Even before he reaches that tribunal, a grand jury is to pronounce whether there be sufficient evidence against him to warrant his being submitted to its judgment. Surely this is barrier sufficient between the accused and his accuser. At present a man detected in a theft clear as noonday-discovered in pilfering or purloining, or in swindling or in cheating, is, by the tact of an attorney, made to fence with the magistrate, and take every possible legal advantage of circumstances to check the course of justice. No man will say that which will criminate himself, and therefore the asking criminals questions may be useless; but certain it is, that the pleadings of lawyers in the first instance ought not to be permitted. Let the prisoner deny the facts, and then send him, if the case be sufficiently strong, to the two tribunals which we have already mentioned, before which the evidence will come clear and distinct, and either be confirmed or refuted, and a verdict given accordingly.

We go even farther. We doubt either the wisdom or justice of permitting the police reports to be published, even if the offices are continued to be open to the public. In a vast many cases, the publicity of the reports defeats the ends of justice; and in a vast many more, prevents culprits of various descriptions from being brought before the magistrates. If the reports were given verbatim, and without any editorial observations, this part of the evil might be altogether got rid of; but, as the case now stands, any man or woman, remarkable either from circumstances, or in personal appearance, or by name, would rather quietly put up with robbery from a thief, extortion from a hackney-coachman, or (which is more common than either) insolence from a turnpike-man, than subject himself or herself to the "funny" observations of the reporters. Just conceive a respectable couple, who had been cheated and robbed, having secured the culprit, and appeared against him at Bow-street, being exhibited to the newspaper-readers of the next morning in something of this sort :

"Bow-street. Tuesday.-Yesterday a 'werry curos' sort of longlegged animal, not much unlike a giraffe in stature, rejoicing in the name of Shufflebotham, accompanied by a squat, squabby young lady, a Miss Hickathrift, appeared before Mr. Halls, to prefer a charge against Charles Jarvis, driver of the hackney coach 2850.

"It appeared that, notwithstanding the disparity of their age and size, the long-legged Shufflebotham was the acknowledged lover of the diminutive Miss Hickathrift; and being a 'real' gentleman, and wishing to behave as sich,' hired the coach 2850, in order to treat his dumpling Dulcinea to Sadler's Wells, in order to agitate her gentle bosom with the agonies of the Bleeding Nun of Hossenburg. The gentle converse of the young couple on the road was so interesting, that when they quitted the carriage, Miss H. left her bag (containing a smelling-bottle, a handkerchief, a gold thimble, five halfpence, and half a sheet of whity-brown paper) on the seat, and never missed it until the sorrows of the stage rendered the application of her handkerchief to her eyes absolutely necessary. Immediately on discovering her loss, Mr. Shufflebotham chivalrously rushed down stairs in order to the recovery of the objects. The coach he found, but the bag was missing, and all the recompense he got for his trouble was that of being laughed at.

"In his ire, having secured the number of the coach, he proceeded to

summon Jarvey for extortion in having demanded and received 1s. 6d. instead of 1s. which was his lawful fare, but about which he had not intended to say anything if the subsequent robbery-as he emphatically called it—had not aroused his revengeful feelings,—indeed at the bare recital of the loss of the bag, poor Miss Hickathrift burst into tears, and was only soothed by the tender looks of the venerable giraffe, who kept whispering, Don't, my dear,' 'Never mind, my love, to the infinite amusement of the auditors.

The prisoner, who was attended by his solicitor, denied the charge altogether. He saw nothing of the bag, nor did he believe the lady ever had a bag when she got in

"Here the gentle Hickathrift exclaimed, 'Oh, you wicked man!? in a tone which convulsed the hearers.

--and, in addition, rather rejoiced," as his professional friend said, "in having the opportunity of stating that the shilling, which Mr. Shufflebotham had given him in payment of the fare, was a bad 'un."

"Here a general roar of laughter ensued, and the attentions of the lean and slippered pantaloon to his fubsy companion became quite moving.

"Mr. Shufflebotham stepped forward, and, with a face which would have done honour to the tabernacle, made a long and solemn speech, denying the possibility of his having passed a bad shilling-when the magistrate put a stop to his preaching, by telling him that nobody believed the story of the coachman, who was fined 20s. for the overcharge, but discharged as to the bag.

"Still poor Miss Hickathrift seemed to cling to the hope that her bag might be forthcoming, the halfpence, the handkerchief, the thimble, -the whity-brown paper,-all gone. However, her long friend offered her his arm, which she accepted, and they quitted the office; and as they passed through the passage, a good deal of laughter was excited by the complainant observing that he was convinced the coachman stole the bag, and that was the long and the short of it.' This unfortunate expression was too applicable to the parties themselves to be overlooked; and, as they went out, half-a-dozen of the bystanders cried out, "There they go; there's the long and the short of it.' By which names, we have no doubt, the unhappy couple will be known for the future all over Camden Town, where they reside."

Now the plain facts of the case are, that Mr. Shufflebotham, a retired merchant, living in Camden Town, thought proper to take his niece, Miss Hickathrift to Sadler's Wells; that he hired a coach; that the young lady left her bag in the coach; that the coachman overcharged them in the fare, insulted the old gentleman, and finally accused him of passing bad money; and yet, because these respectable people chose to punish the fellow who had robbed and cheated them, they are, for the sake of making a funny paragraph, to be called giraffes and fubsies, and nicknamed for ever in the neighbourhood where they live.

This, we say, is a fault,-and that is the "long and the short of it."

THE NEW FIDDLE-PLAYER.-The news which appears,-out of the political world, to attract most of public attention, is that of the arrival here from Calcutta, of all places in the world, of a magnificent fiddleplayer, of the name of Masoni. If we had not seen his pedigree in the

newspapers, we should have thought him a plain English Mr. Mason, who had italianized his termination, and given himself, like Mars,

“An I to threaten and command.”

However, he is no more an Englishman than Sue Kelly, or Tom Browny, as Zuchelli and Tamburini are called; but is, in every respect, a regular-built foreigner. He melted the South Americans,―astonished the Candians,-bothered the governor-general in council at Calcutta,— upset Bombay,-and drove Madras-as it is, by the way, literallyhalf mad;—the Hottentots were enchanted with him at the Cape, and the yam-stocks of St. Helena nearly danced over the edge of their haycock island for delight at hearing him.

At Brighton, he has received the sanction of royalty; and the "Morning Post" tells us that Sir Andrew Barnard and the Queen's band approved of him. He is now in London; and at the rehearsal of the Academy's music last week, he condescended to ravish the ears of all the students. He is to ruin Paganini in public favour: this he will perhaps not find occasion to do, since the Medusean Orpheus has already got enough change for his notes to render his return to this country unnecessary. It is said—which, by the way, is not uncommon in puffing-that his performance, to be understood, must be heard. In short, Masoni is the bow ideal of fiddlers.

THE PANTHEON BALLOONS-BAZAARS, &c.—The Pantheon in Oxford-street, once the resort of gaiety and fashion, but which never recovered its tone of elegance after the original building was burned down in the year 1792, is undergoing the same sort of repair which Lamprey's cousin-german in Ireland proposed to give Mr. O'Callaghan's pen-knife, which he undertook to make as good as ever it was in all its life, for the cost of nothing more than a new blade and a new handle. It is, in fact, rebuilding,—a process rendered necessary by failures in various parts of the structure, marked more particularly to the eye of the passenger in Blenheim-street by round plates of iron, as the waggeries of authors are underscored to attract the reader's especial attention. The original Pantheon was opened in the year 1772, and was, it is said, a most beautiful and elegant building. There is a print of its interior extant, representing the exhibition of Lunardi's balloon, which was hung inflated in the centre, while the intrepid aëronaut himself promenaded the circle, dressed, as we have heard him described, in a scarlet coat embroidered with gold and lined with pea-green, the admiration of the ladies and the envy of the men. Like all other pursuits, flying has become so common, that Mr. Green, or Mr. Graham, might go unkissed and unworshipped to the day of their deaths, if they had not the luck to have two Mrs. G.'s to propitiate them at home. In 1784-the Lunardi year-in an account of a birth-day ball, the Prince of Wales (our late gracious sovereign) is stated to have appeared in a "pink balloon satin coat"-the ladies assumed the shape of balloons-wore balloon curls and balloon bonnets-and, in fact, every thing was 'balloon."

In 1790, the Pantheon was converted into an opera-house, in consequence of the destruction of that in the Haymarket by fire, and, in 1792, itself was destroyed by a similar calamity. It was rebuilt upon an enlarged scale, but incumbered with those pests of such pro

perties, a body of renters-stones in the pockets of the unfortunate speculator, which, while they hang about him, effectually prevent his keeping his head above water. About twenty years ago, the new Pantheon, like the old one, was converted into an opera-house, and Braham and Mrs. Billington, and we believe Catalani, all sang there. This, however, lasted but one season, and the building thenceforward became occasionally devoted to the Saturnalia of half-guinea masquerades, in which vice strove effectually for the mastery with dulness, noise, stupidity, and vulgarity.

At length, what with the quarrels of the proprietors and the unsoundness of the walls, it was abandoned by the public, and in part reverted to one of its original uses, and became a balloon manufactory. It is now destined for a bazaar, which, considering the great success of that in Sohosquare on one hand, and the small success of the Queen's Bazaar on the other, seems to be as hopeless a speculation as need be. It would have formed a particularly good site for a third regular theatre, and have much enlightened the population north of Oxford-street, who, at present, mingle in the recreations of London only when they descend in parties, like Oriental travellers, in caravans-we do not mean Paddington omnibuses. We suspect that the entrepreneurs of the present concern will find, when the bills come in, that, instead of a Pantheon, it will turn out to be a Pandemonium.

EMIGRATION TAX ON ABSENTEES. : Emigration to the Continent continues to a frightful extent. Lord and Lady Jersey are now gone-Lord and Lady Chesterfield-Lord Pembroke Lord and Lady Louth-Lord and Lady Monson-the Duke of Devonshire-Lord Hertford-Lady Sandwich-Lord and Lady De Tabley-Lady TankervilleMarquis of Anglesea and family-Marchioness of Conyngham-Lord and Lady Clinton-Lord and Lady Strathaven-Lord and Lady Sidney -Lord and Lady Rivers-Lord and Lady Francis Egerton-the Countess of Clare-Earl and Countess of Beverley-besides a host of those who, in fact, are even more essential to the prosperity of the country, and the actual comfort of their immediate and constant neighbours-we mean country gentlemen and their families. Surely our ministers, who are likely to be hard run for taxes to supply the place of those which they have been forced voluntarily to repeal-or, at least, promise to repealmight find a most seasonable succedaneum in an income-tax on absentees, which would either force them to contribute to the necessities of the country whence they derive their income, or induce them to return to their homes, where their presence and influence would be of the greatest advantage to their tenants and the surrounding inhabitants.

ST. JAMES'S PALACE CLOCK.-We are rejoiced to find that the clock over the gateway of St. James's Palace is replaced. A general outcry was raised upon the subject, and so the clock is restored, and raised too. It is now hoisted up far out of ear-reach of the maids of honour and ladies of the bedchamber, who were previously annoyed by its noise. It does not look so graceful in the attics as it did below, still it is clear in view. We cannot, however, admire the shape selected for its face; it has exactly the appearance of a hatchment, and reminds us of Hogarth's joke "We must"-placed upon a dial in one of his prints, signifying