spired with what she believed to be an earnest devotion

terrors which she attributed solely to Marat, and which caused the hearts of good men and true to fail; with this resolution she visited Marat one morning whilst he was taking a bath, and forcing her way to him, buried her poignard in his breast. Marat called for help, but it came too late, he was taken from the bath which had become reddened like a bath of blood, and laid upon the bed—a corpse.

Marat was buried at Paris, on the 17th July, 1793, with great pomp and solemnity-an immense crowd joining in the funeral procession. The bath in which

he was assassinated, was borne by four women, and his blood-stained shirt by a fifth, attired as a fury; these relics were followed by the journalist's wooden bedstead, on which his corpse was carried by citizens. This procession was saluted during its progress by several discharges of artillery. Thus were consigned to the tomb the last remains of one who might, considering his great influence, have heaped honors upon the Revolution, but whose death only put an end to

even greater horrors which he had apparently designed

to have carried into effect

The author of the History of the Girondists, states that Marat had "The Gospel" constantly open upon the table, and when this was noticed, "The Revolu

tion," remarked he, "is in the Gospel." No where is the cause of the people more energetically pleaded, or more maledictions heaped on the rich and powerful

of this world. "Jesus Christ," continued he, bowing reverentially when he uttered the name, "Jesus Christ is our Master." It is lamentable to reflect on the lengths to which fanatical individuals will go, without regard to consequences, when they conceive that they are supported by the example of one great master, whose character takes the impress of their own overheated imagination, and whom in the fervour of their zeal, they believe to have been as despotic as themselves. And the greater the estimation in which that character to which they appeal is held by the masses, the oftener it is called into requisition,

and with almost certain success.

ANTI CHEAP TRIP CRUSADE.

THERE are classes of men always the samethey learn nothing; they forget nothing. What they have they inherit: it runs in the blood. Such as were their forefathers, so are they-unprofited by experience, past or present. Full of "wise saws," applicable only to long defunct generations, they cannot understand "modern instances." The roughest storm will scarce move their stagnant intellects, which when thus moved are very like puddles under similar circumstances. Dugald Stewart, in a Dissertation prefixed to the Encyclopædia Brittannica, likens certain learned bigots to a ship that, moored to one spot by the strength of its cables and weight of its anchors, serves only to show the rapidity of the current by which the rest of the world are borne along. Without much paraphrasing, the same may be said of all the classes to whom we refer; for, attached to one spot by the strength of their prejudices and the weight of their superstitions, they

The most conspicuously mischievous of these classes is that renowned one called Pharisee. Theodore Parker has painted it to the life. He says the last of the Pharisees has not yet been seen; but the race is vigorous and flourishing now as of old time. Specimens of this monster are by no means rare. They are found living in all countries and in every walk of life. We do not search for them in the halls of a museum, or the cabinets of the curious; but every man has seen a Pharisee going at large upon the earth. The race, it seems, began early. The Pharisees are of ancient blood, some tracing their genealogy to the great Father of Lies him

self.

Ex pede Herculem-the foot of Hercules can belong only to Hercules, and only Pharisees do anything like Pharisees. One of them has favoured the Manchester Examiner and Times with a letter about Sunday Trips to Fleetwood. Virtuous indignation, peculiar The writer is shocked to observe, that for to the Pharisees, breathes in that letter. the last four Sabbaths nearly two thousand people, from different parts of the county, have each day been turned loose on the shore, sandhills, and streets of Fleetwood, to the great annoyance of the quiet, orderly, and religious portion of the community. His eyeballs seared and conscience outraged by sights like these, this choice specimen of the true Pharisee is resolved, with God's assistance, to put down the Cheap Sunday Trip system. Sir Peter Laurie tried his hand at putting down suicide, and why should not our friend the Pharisee put down the pleasures of the poor? Saint Paul, when he ceased to be a Pharisee, said, some men esteem one day above another; others esteem all days alike--let each one be persuaded in his own mind. And Jesus Christ, who never was a Pharisee plucked ears of his neighbour's corn on the Sabbath day because he was an hungred; and jeered at the hypocrites who, scandalized by the Cheap Trips of those days, would have it that man was made for the Sabbath, and not the Sabbath for man. there been railways in Judea at the time of our Saviour, both he and Saint Paul (after his conversion) would have been delighted to see them running on the Sabbath. But our Pharisee cannot bear it. He is so anxious about the quiet, the orderly, and the religious population of Fleetwood that he would not have their serenity disturbed by crowds of

Had

pleasure-seeking people from Manchester or elsewhere. He would not go the length of putting an end to all railway communication. No; his objection is to cheap trains of which the poor may avail themselves. Against the rich man's trips on the Sabbath he has nothing to This proves him no counterfeit, but a genuine Pharisee-one of the olden timeThe genuine Pharisee though pious enough To hang tom cat on Monday morn For killing a rat on Sunday night,

say.

never waxes furious against rich Sabbath breakers. They may go to Fleetwood or to the Devil, if they like, on the Sabbath or any other day of the week. They are privileged to desecrate the Sabbath with impunity. Who ever knew a Pharisee to expose the rich violaters of God's holy law? Who ever hears him denounce their horseriding, gambling, and lying on Sundays. Did the late Sir Andrew Agnew make, or attempt to make, a clean sweep of Sabbath Breakers. No; all the bills he brought before Parliament were levelled against the enjoyments of the poornot one affected, in the smallest degree, the enjoyments or luxuries, or even gross immoralities of the rich.

When Louis XIII. took a strong fancy for gingerbread, every courtier instantly had his pockets stuffed with it, and presented slices to the ladies with most ceremonious gallantry. Pharisees, who pester poverty about keeping the Sabbath day holy, deal with respectable, i. e. wealthy, people in the same truckling miserable spirit these courtiers displayed towards their monarch. From Sir Andrew Agnew, down to the hater of Cheap Trips who figures in the Manchester Examiner and Times, there is not one bold enough to be honest, or honest enough to be bold. They make cowardly war upon the poor man's hot Sunday dinner, and cheap railway carriage, If allowed to have their fling, poverty on a Sunday like poor Jack Rag, would find nothing moving but stagnation: to them it would be a day of gloom sacred to fanaticism, all shops save the parson shops would be closed against them; even parading along the streets during the hours of divine service would be a luxury forbidden, lest in the lewd enjoyment thereof they should annoy the quiet, the orderly, and the religious portion of the community. For ourselves, who are guided in this matter by the example as well as precepts of Jesus and Paul, there is nothing so distasteful or disgusting as religious hypocrisy, more especially when it allies itself with rich scoundrels, to rob labour of its just reward and that liberty of action without which all the gold of California would avail them nothing.

The working people of this district for six days out of seven labor to live and live but to labor. Why should they on the seventh have all sorts of obstacles thrown in the way of their enjoyment? Worship in temples made with hands is excellent for those who think it so, but those who think innocent enjoyment no less innocent on the Sabbath than any other day, and consider no worship purer than that offered up in the vast, unbuilt, eternal temple of Nature itself, have a right to share the freedom wherewith Christ has set them free-they should ask for nothing more, and be satisfied with nothing less. Let Pharisees preach up the necessity of going to dear conventicles or dearer churches instead of breathing the fresh air of heaven and admiring the glories of earth-don't mind them. To make men morose, gloomy, and fanatical is their vocation. Be not imposed upon by their solemnity of

manner

For be this truth eternal ne'er forgot, Solemnity's the cover for a sot. Whenever therefore the working people meet a parson or Pharisee of any kind who Profoundly dull, insipidly serene,

We

Carries all his wisdom in his mien, They should be wary of him just as they would of a suspicions looking cur in the dog days. Really wise and good men who believe the better the day the better the deed and cannot persuade themselves to play the Pharisee, generally look as wise and as good as they are. In their faces you may read most pleasant and excellent matter for they forbear not smiling even on the Sabbath Day and Cheap Trips are their delight. We would venture a wager that our Pharisaical friend of the Manchester Examiner is a long visaged, grave, sour looking customer. fancy we see his countenance whilst indignantly denying that trippers to Fleetwood when they get there have time to go to a place of worship. But, however he looked, we sympathise with his sentiment. We believe with him it is questionable whether one of them has ever entered a church or chapel in Fleetwood but who, save the fool or the Pharisee, can expect or desire them to do so. After being shut up in hot factories by others for six days, shall they shut themselves up in churches or conventicles on the seventh-and if they do find people in Fleetwood so impious as to offer them shelter and boiling water at a penny a head, there is no great harm done. It is possible to do far worse things on the Sabbath than furnish way-worn travellers with shelter and boiling water at a penny a head. Our Pharisee thinks otherwise, and evidently lays more stress on the mint, and anise, and cum

min, than the weightier matters of the law as expounded by Jesus. That law says nothing against giving shelter and boiling water at a penny each, nothing for attending worsnip on a Sunday in church, conventicle, or other temple made with hands. Why then so much indignation commingled with horror at the sight of crowded houses where they boil the kettle? We are sure that neither Christ nor Paul would have objected to keep the pot boiling on Sundays, and we recommend the people of Fleetwood to persist in so salutary and, we trust, profitable a practice. When bigots rant and rave, we may be sure that some good thing has come out of Nazareth. Whatever tends to the emancipation of mind from the thraldom of superstition is their aversion-they hate to see the people, "the lower orders" either amused or instructed, especially on that holy day which should be a day of rejoicing for all; but which, under their accursed rule, is alas! but too often one of gloom and acutest misery. Schiller well describes them when he says, they have the hundred eyes of Argus to spy out the faults of a brother, and yet are totally blind to their own-they thunder forth from their clouds about gentleness and forbearance, while they sacrifice human victims to the God of love, as if he were the fiery Moloch; they preach the love of one's neighbour while they drive the aged and blind with curses from their door-they rave against covetourness, yet for the sake of gold they have depopulated Peru, and yoked the natives like cattle to their chariots-they rack their brains in wonder to account for the creation of a Judas Iscariot, yet the best of them would betray the whole Trinity for ten shekels. Out upon you Pharisees! ye falsifiers of truth!! ye apes of Deity!!!

"THE MAN FROM LONDON"

AND THE

MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.

HONOURS come showering down upon us thick and fast, as if, in justification of the old proverb, that it never rains but it pours. Some men are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. This last is the strange case of our renowned friend the Man from London. We deny not that he was born great, nor, for the world, would we question his having achieved greatness, but to a certainty he has of late had an astonishing amount of greatness thrust upon him. One week he is ranked with the most intellectual men of the age-another he is politely introduced to a meeting of the êlite of

Manchester society, by that distinguished orator, Mr. William Morris, as 'a Man from London'; and this week, the Manchester Guardian, which of all Newspapers, if we except the Times, is most consistent and honest, actually assures the public that Mr. Charles Southwell-that is, ourselves— "the Man from London", is Master of the Ceremonies at Dramatic Balls at the Hall of Science, and Lecturer on Politics, Satan, and the Nature of a false religion. Why this additional honor has been thrust upon us is a mystery enshrined in the hearts of the Guardian Editors, but we suspect that they owed us one for our speech at the meeting held in our hall on behalf of the Hungarians; and thus paid us off. Not then having the fear of Editors before our eyes, we ventured to state that the Times and Guardian were misleading journals. This seems to have offended the Guardian, which, singularly enough, don't like being called the Times of Manchester-and hence our appearance in its columns as Master of the Ceremonies at Dramatic Balls, Lecturer on Politics, Satan &c. Nor are we ashamed to admit the injustice of classing together two Newspapers, so vastly different in point of influence and ability as Manchester's Guardian and the London Times. We see our error-an error that forcibly reminds us of a caricature by H. B. which exhibits the gigantic ghost of Huskisson, stalking majestically away with Lord John, stretching his tiny legs in the desperate hope of making equal strides, and underneath was written the little following in the footsteps of the great. What his small Lordship is here represented in relation to Huskisson, our friend the Guardian is in relation to the Times. Destitute of first-rate ability, and comparatively contemptible in point of influence, yet, ambitious to ape its thundering contemporary; we see in its sneers at Hungarians, its cold-blooded tergiversation, its vaccillating policy, and ill-dissembled hatred of liberal principles, only the little, following in the footsteps of the great.

THE BEACON.

actual sale of the first had reached a thousand.

As

Up to the time of going to press with this number the the local sale is by no means exhausted, and publishers in London, Bristol, Birmingham, Liverpool, and other places have not yet been supplied, we calculate upon the sale of another thousand. For a beginning this is capital, and let us add, success so extraordinary, is far a head of our most sanguine anticipations-to deserve it will be our steady and constant aim. So far we appear to have given satisfaction, even professional grumblers are silent, not one of them having done us the honor chester thinks of it we don't know, but do not despair to disapprove of our paper. What the Bishop of Manof ere long ranking him amongst our subscribers. At present our only subscriber, of mark, is a Philosopher,

who says he has discovered our materialism, and expects us to answer the question-what is matter? a proceeding, on his part, which reminds us of the old saw," that fools may ask questions in a minute that wise men cannot answer in a century. Our philosophical friend, is nevertheless, informed that he who understands the term blockhead can have no difficulty in defining matter-blockheads being decidedly materialNow, blockhead we define to be one who has a very hard head, with a very soft place in it. Should our philosophical friend be ill satisfied with this mode of answering his question, we trust he will revenge himself by putting it to some professed metaphysician, who will prove to him that we give the name matter to nere attributes or appearances, as colour, form, size, softness, hardness, &e., which mere attributes or appearances not being anything, nothing is in reality, the only thing of which we have the slightest knowledge. For speculations so deep, we confess our inaptitude, and therefore readers of the Beacon should not expect us to indulge in them. We have other work to do. Our task is to improve intellect, by telling home truths, in plain language. Any simpleton can mystify; only the elect can explain those useful truths which are the source of all improvement, and basis of all excel lence. That we are the elect, modesty forbids us say. ing, but we shall labour hard to prove ourselves so. We aim at ina ing the Beacon a terror to evil doers, and fearless exponent of whatever may profit and improve the people. Though localized in name, it will be universal in fact, and if not able, at least sincere, in the boldest advocacy of what is 'rue, as well as the boldest denunciation of what is false. Revolutions are not made with rose-water, nor are men made ripe for great changes of a peaceful character by rose-water politicians, of whom we are tempted to say, in the language of Mercutio,-Is it not a lamentable thing that we are to be pestered with these strange flies, these fashionmongers, these pardonnez moi's. Liking them so little we decline to imitate them, and shall proceed in our onward course, firmly resolved to make the Beacon worthy of its cause. A working man, wanting a copy, went the other day to the shop of our friend George Smith, in Salford, and asked for a pen-north of Lancashire Bacon,-would you like it fat or lean enquired Mrs. Smith;-oh 1 doant much care so as you let me have it strong and reasty. Now we promise our friend if he will continue our customer, that the penny Bacon we intend to have on sale, shall be fat and lean, streaky we believe, they call it, because layers of lean are de lightfully relieved by layers of fat; and as to any articles we supply, being strong and reasty, there can be no doubt all the world knows that in these particulars we are ourselves alone, and none but ourselves can be our parallel.

THE FALLEN STAR;

OR THE HISTORY OF A FALSE RELIGION.
BY SIR E. L. BULWER.
(Continued from page 4,)

By a rude and vast pile of stones, the masonry of arts forgot ten, a lonely man sate at midnight, gazing upon the heavens, a storm had just passed from the earth-the clouds had rolled away, and the high stars looked down upon the rapid waters of the Rhine; and no sound save the roar of the waves, and the dripping of the rain from the mighty trees, was heard around the ruined pile; the white sheep lay scattered on the plain, and slumber with them. He sate watching over the herd, lest the foes of a neighbouring tribe seized them unawares, and thus he communed with himself: "The king sits upon his throne, and is honoured by a warrior race, and the warrior exults in the trophies he has won; the step of the huntsman is bold upon the mountain top, and his name is sung at night round the pine fires, by the lips of the bard; and the bard himself hath honor ip the hall. But I, who belong, not to a race of kings; and whose limbs can bound not to the rapture of war, nor scale the eyries of the eagle and the haunts of the swift stag; whose hand can | string not the harp, and whose voice is harsh in the song; 1

have neither honour nor command, and inen bow not the head as I pass along; yet do I feel within me the consciousness of a great power that should rule my species-not obey. My eye pierces the secret hearts of men-I see their thoughts ere their lips proclaim them, and I scorn, while I see the weakness and the vices which I never shared-I laugh at the madness of the warrior-I mock within my soul at the tyranny of kings. Surely there is something in man's nature more fitted to commandswiftness of the feet, or the accident of birth!" more worthy of renown, than the sinews of the arm, or the

As Morven, the son of Osslah, thus mused with himself, still looking at the heavens, the solitary man beheld a Star suddenly shooting from its place, and speeding through the silent air, till it, as suddenly, paused, right over the midnight river, and facing the inmate of the pile of stones.

As he gazed upon the Star strange thoughts grew slowly over hiin. He drank, as it were, from its solemn aspect, the spirit snatched the Star from his sight; but left to his awakened mind of a great design. A dark cloud passing rapidly over the earth,

the thoughts and the dim scheme that had come to him as he gazed.

When the sun arose one of his brethren relieved him of his

charge over the herd, and he went away, but not to his father's home. Musingly he plunged into the dark and leafless recesses of the winter forest; and shaped, out of his wild thoughts, more palpably and clearly, the outline of his daring hope. While thus absorbed, he heard a great noise in the forest, and, fearful lest the hostile tribe of the Alrich might pierce that way, he ascended one of the loftiest pine trees, to whose perpetual verdure the winter had not denied the shelter he sought, and, concealed by its branches, he looked anxiously forth in the direction whence the noise had proceeded. And IT came-it came, with a tramp and a crash, and a crushing tread upon the crunched boughs and matted leaves that strewed the soil-it came-it came, the monster that the world now holds no more -the mighty Mammoth of the North! Slowly it moved in its huge strength along, and its burning eyes glittered through the gloomy shade; its jaws, falling apart, showed he grinders with which it snapped asunder the young oaks of the forest; and tae vast tusks, which curved downward to the midst of its massive limbs, glistened white and ghastly, curdling the blood of one destined hereafter to be the dreadest ruler of the men of that distant age.

The livid eyes of the monster fastened on the form of the herdsman, even amidst the thick darkness of the pine. It paused-it glared upon him—its jaws opened, and a low deep sound, as of gathering thunder, seemed to the son of Osslah as the knell of the dreadful grave. But after glaring upon him for some moments, it again, and calmly, pursued its terrible way, crashing the boughs as it marched along, till the last sound of its heavy tread died upon his ear.

Ere yet however he summoned the courage to descend the

tree, he saw the shining of arms through the bare branches of the wood, and presently a small band of the hostile Alrich came into sight. He was perfectly hidden from them; and listening as they passed him, he heard one say to another,—

"The night covers all things; why attack them by day?" "Right. To night, when they sleep in their city, we will upon them. Lo! they will be drenched in wine, and full like sheep into our hands." "But where, O chief,” said a third of the band, "shall our men hide during the day? for there are many hunters among the youth of the Oestrich tribe, and they might see us in the forest unawares, and arm their race against our coming."

"I have prepared for that," answered the chief. "Is not the dark cavern of Ordelin at hand? Will it not shelter us from the eyes of the victims ?"

Then the men laughed, and, shouting, they went their way adown the forest.

When they were gone, Morven cautiously descended, and, striking into a broad path, hastened to a vale that lay between the forest and the river in which was the city where the chief of his country dwelt. As he passed by the warlike men, giants in that day, who thronged the streets, (if streets they might be called,) their half garments parting from their huge limbs, the quiver at their backs, and the hunting spear in their hands, they laughed and shouted out, and pointing to him, cried, "Morven the woman, Morven the cripple, what dost thou among men ?"

For the son of Osslah was sinall in stature and of slender

The critic will perceive that this sketch of the beast, whose race has perished, is mainly intended to designate the remote per.od of the world in which the tale is cast.

strength, and his step had halted from his birth; but he passed through the warriors unheedingly. At the outskirts of the city, he came upon a tall pile in which some old men dwelt by themselves, and connselled the king when times of danger, or when the failure of the season, the famine or the drought, perplexed the ruler, and clouded the savage fronts of his warlike tribe.

They gave the counsels of experience, and when experience failed, they drew in their believing ignorance, assurances and omens, from the winds of heaven, the changes of the moon, and the flights of the wandering birds. Filled (by the voices of the elements, and the variety of mysteries which ever shift along the face of things, unsolved by the wonder which pauses not, the fear which believes, and that eternal reasoning of all experience. which assigns causes to effect) with the notion of superior powers, they assisted their ignorance by the conjectures of their superstition. But as yet they knew no craft and pracised no voluntary delusion; they trembled too much at the mysteries which had created their faith to seek to belie them. They counselled as they believed, and the bold dream had never dared to cross men thus worn and grey with age, of governing their warriors and their kings by the wisdom of deceit.

The son of Osslah entered the vast pile with a fearless step. and approached the place at the upper end of the hall where the old men sat in conclave.

66 How, base-born and craven-limbed," cried the eldest, who had been a noted warrior in his day: darest thou enter unconsumed amidst the secret councils of the wise men? thou not, scatterling, that the penalty is death?"

Knowest

"Slay me, if thou wilt," answered Morven, "but hear!

As

I sate last night in the ruined palace of our ancient kings, tending, as my father bade me, the sheep that grazed around, lest the fierce tribe of Alrich should descend unseen from the mountains upon the herd, a storm came darkly on, and when the storm had ceased, and I looked above on the sky, I saw a Star descend from its height towards me, and a voice from the Star said, 'Son of Osslah, leave thy her d and seek the council of the wise men, and say unto them, that they take thee as one of their number, or that sudden will be the destruction of them and theirs.' But I had courage to answer the voice, and I said, 'Mock not the poor son of the herdsman' Behold they will kill me if I utter so rash a word, for I am poor and valueless in the eyes of the tribe of Oestrich, and the great in deeds and the grey of hair alone, sit in the council of the wise unen."

"Then the voice said, 'Do my bidding, and I will give thee a token that thou comest from the Powers that sway the seasons and sail upon the eagles of the winds. Say unto the wise men that this very night, if they refuse to receive thee of their band evil shall fall upon them, and the morrow shall dawn in blood," "Then the voice ceased, and the cloud passed over the Star; and I communed with myself, and came, O dread fathers mournfully unto you. For I feared that ye would smite me because of my bold tongue, and that ye would sentence me to death, in that I asked what may scarce be given even to the sons of kings."

Then the grim elders looked one at the other, and marvelled much, nor knew they what answer they should make the herdsman's son.

At length one of the wise men said, "Surely there must be truth in the son of Osslah, for he would not dare to falsify the great lights of Heaven. If he had given unto men the words of the Star, verily we might doubt the truth. But who would brave the vengeance of the Gods of Night?"

Then the elders shook their heads approvingly; but one answered and said

The

"Shall we take the herdsman's son as our equal? No." name of the man who thus answered was Darvan, and his words were pleasing to the elders.

But Morven spoke out: "Of a truth, O councillors of kings I look not to be equal with yourselves. Enough if I tend the gates of your palace, and serve you as the son of Osslah may serve;" and he bowed his head humbly as he spoke.

Then said the chief of the elders, for he was wiser than the others, "But how wilt thou deliver us from the evil that is to come; doubtless the Star has informed thee of the service thou canst render to us if we take thee into our palace, as well as the ill that will fall on us if we refuse."

Morven answered meekly, "Surely, if thou acceptest thy servant, the Star will teach him that which may requite thee; but as yet he knows only what he has uttered."

Then the sages bade him withdraw, and they communed with themselves, and they differed much; but though fierce men, and bold at the war-cry of a human foe, they shuddered at the prophecy of a Star. So they resolved to take the son of Osslah, and suffer him to keep the gate of the councií hall.

UNITE! UNITE!

See how giant wrongs are tottering,
Feudal forms begin to shake;
Barb'rous customs, near to falling,
Make barbarian hearts to quake.
Let reformers meet together-
Let the strong in faith unite,
Hand in hand, and, onward pressing,
Labour earnest for the right.
Partisans of scheme and charter,
Aid the struggle where you can;
Throw aside all party feeling,
Be decided to a man.
Onward push the car of progress,
Be not barriers in its way;
Men of truth, sleep on no longer,
Watch and labour night and day.
Working men, for right contending,
There's a rainbow in the sky;

Hope beams through the poor man's dwelling,
And the day of victory's nigh.
Band together for the action,

Count the cost, and span the ground;
Work in earnest, hope with reason,

And your fetters are unbound.
Statesmen laugh to see your quarrels,
Whilst you rave, they sit at rest;
As their portals hourly strengthen,
Daily you are more oppressed.
Up and conquer, be united,

Or, divided, you must fall;
Quarrel ever, and be bondmen,
Or unite, and conquer all!

M. C. COOKE.

The great secret to acquire true knowledge ls to cultivate and polish the reason, and to get a knowledge of things rather than of words, by unceasing perseverance.-Confucius.

NOTICE.

OUR Lectures on Sunday mornings at 11, and Sundays evenings at half-past 6, in the Hall of Science, are much better attended than any Lectures delivered there for some years past, during the same season. Lovers of dancing continue to flock around us on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday evenings. Next week, being Regatta week, we shall throw open our splendid Hall on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday for amusement seekers-On Monday there will be a Regatta Quadrille Party, to which the public will be admitted at the usual prices. On Wednesday a Regatta Plain and Fancy Dress Ball, with recitations, songs &c., and on Saturday, the usual Quadrille party. Our friends who may think ill of such amusements are invited to attend, that they may see how we conduct them. We are happy to add, that "the tea parties at 6d. each," held the first Sunday afternoon of each month do much good. At the last, 145 of our friends sat down together, with the evident desire to give, as well as receive, gratification. No complaint we hear save one, which is, that our Tea was too strong. If our friends so wish, there shall, in future, be no cause of complaint on that score.-Hood, of facetious and blessed memory, has familiarized us with three sorts of Tea-Somehowqua, Anyhowqua, and Nohowqua,-Somehowqua quoth he, is for the very rich- Anyhowqua, for people neither poor nor rich, whilst the very poor get Nohowqua-but we determining to reform these things altogether, give all our customers Somehowqua, and if they really prefer Anyhowqua, or Nohowqua, all we can say is, we shall endeavour to oblige them.

Published every Saturday, at the Hall of Science, Camp Field and sold by J. R. COOPER, Bridge Street, Manchester, and GEORGE SMITH, Greengate, and 10, Regent-Road, Salford. Printed by GEORGE SMITH, Bookseller and Stationer, Greengate, and 10, Regent Road, Salford.

of two postage stamps.