North Wales Gazette

■^i J | >wn ERIN GO BRAH! Rear Erin, how sweetly thy srreen fcosom rides, An emerald set in the ring of the sea, Each hia ie of thy mountains my faithful heart prides, Thou oii.n of the West, the worlds cush la Ma chrte Thy gates oi)ej) wide to the poor and the stranger, There reigns hospitality, hearty and free, Thy friendship is felt in the moment of danger, The wanderer's welcomed with cush lama chreel Thy sons they are brave-but the battle once m-er, In ssiosherfy peace with their foes they agree, And the roseate cheeks of thy daughters dis- cover Tht- speaking blush that says cus/t la ma ehree Then ifourish for ever, my dear native Erin J While sadly I wander aa exile from thee, Be firm as thy mountains which proudly are peepiffg. And 8 uard the sweet soil with a cush la tna chres! Tremudoc. B.

For the North IVales Gazette. THE LITTLE WOODLAND BOY. 14 Poor little wandering Boy i-where dost thou roam ? Said pitying Emma, to a vagrant child: i4 Cans't thou not find 'he way unto thy home, 14 Across these Heaths—and bushes, grown so wild ? Ù n LrJv-said the child, I've ba4 no house Wherein to lay my head—for some nights past rve fed upon the acorns—bird, or mouse Had laid in store—and these were my repast, I, just now spied a shed in which the sheep Had sought a shelter, from the last night's snow ) And there I mean to lay me down an(I slee r,, There's straw enough to make my bed-I :,now— Emma, whose eyes were now brim full of tears, CoiOrl not, just then, a full enquiry makei Taking hit shivering hand—express'd her fears LesI, how to find the way-be might mistake. 0. no"-the chertib raid--with smiling looks, I know the road—it is not very far; It lies aside of those two little brooks, The way is lighted-by yon glimmering star. u Besides—the Sbeipfcerd* embers left of fire, Nigh to the hut-these sticks upon my head Which here I've carried 'cross that dirty mire, u Upon those embers, now, I mean to spread- Their blaze will warm nte-and my bag is fi I I'd Ci With Chesnuts-which I gathered from the wood By cold, or hunger—I shall not be chitFd, u I think a roasi-ed Chestitit--very good Sweet innocent !she said, "come ho'me with me, To yonder mansion—in my employ •4 You shall no comforta wan t--your name shall be J The Laify Emma's littlt Woodland Boy." C. C.

Sior, Tywysng Cymru Nab Sior,'y tryd- ydd; Srenhiii brydainfuwr, fyc. Fy awen u. fwyn ei gwaith, Ffriw enwog, deffro unwaith n iijr 'wyllys berw allan,- Di floesg wedd, dy felus gau; J roti, drwy ofalon, Penaeth y Frenhiniaeth hon. Henflych weli, Sion, ein Jon Dr. Tretn rhado) twr mawrhydi; M) chdeyra inid, pen Had pob llo, Ujw, ac amrant holl f?ymrn Lfew CWlcb wawr-r;allno, chwyrnj c ei (iwad OnLo y ecdyrn Rwledig bwY], Test gwyim, ein Twyscg auwyl. Cs.Bachgen newydd enr, Tcsog naws, yw'o Twysog Di, Yn dirion gadeiriaw, Mesen yn DtU -iven a ddaw. Bcir<3d Cymru. sy'n clymu clod, Yn her, ag atven harod J Hir ganant i'r Eg 1*4 A llawenhant oil yn hyn, f'ynneslais eu cain oslef A gyrchhyd yn enUrehnef: A"4 A nefolion, yn filoedd A'u hettyb gwn—tehyft oecld j 7;lawr agwrdd y mor eigion, A chyrehfa, tynfa pob ton Mynyddoedd,' a'r cvmmoedd cau, Y" Rronydd—a'r wvbrerau Seinian* fawl, freiniawl ar fiys 1 FLAT.?RC)X y T- El. T NTS.- Tyred, tydi v%v,ii Tarian, IMawr ei lwydd, i fiymru lanj Me bu mewn uchel helynt Preswylfa dy (fynna gynt Bron luniaidd. bteittiol wane, Ff"rw tfrwd anr,—Aberffraw degi 1 diysgu yn ddiasgen, Gryi mawrhad, Jaith romrit heni ltht;,pti vr JoN bob'(Iaioni, I.?«vydd a berth i*n Liywvdd ni Poniau ei Deidiau didwyll <?ri»!au I. mewn ralla phwyll! Hir Jerhyd i'r JON. uehel, A chvnnydd i'w ddydd a ddelt 0. hefyd, deisyfwn Gan w V» Egiaju hwo; C\ taint I wfsgo coron Dra the Y'n)crodi-aetli hon t I ¡laro megys Derwen Y In mhlaid y Bi-iitaniaid beit. Y diweddar Fardd canmoladwy, Mr. Ricf. n-,i Es, e'r Blaenall, yai ion, a'i cant. HolgeUcgi V,

I To the Editors of the Nofth Wales Gazelle, The third Meeting since the 28th of October, inclusive, on account of the intended Dis- pensary, was, it appears by your paper, held at the Penrhvn Arms, on the 28th Novem- ber, at which Meeting two elevation and ground plans were presented the ground fixed upon near Bangor, where it is to be erected; and the next step will be to pre- pare materials for building. TO THE MEETING, GsNTtEMEN, You have the credit of being more experi- enced soldiers than your neighbours. Your movements since the 25th of October, in form. ing regulatioM, in appointing officers, in pro- viding ground plans and elevations, and in se- curing the principal passes, the great support- 6 p 11 ers necessary for such all institution, have been so rapid, that you seem as if it was your in- tention to reduce them to the necessity of sur- rendering at discretion, and resigning all fur- ther thoughts on the subject ot all Infirmary. But Gentlemen, some of your well-wishers are of opinion that you have marched at too quick a in this business, and by that means, have given the pubtic reason to suspect, that you are apprehensive of the re- sult of fair, candid, and free discussion, lest it should be—not in your favour; you seern de- termined to have the start of your friends of Carnarvon, and therefore to have the house up first, and to argue the questions of its use- fulness, and the eligibility of its situation with them after—and when completed, it will be of service to your neighbourhood if the poor are sick outy on Tuesdays and Fridays- hut to sewn-eights of the two counties, a monument, would answer the purposes of giving medicine to the sick poor as well as the Carnarvonshire and Anglesey Loyal Dispensary. You will perhaps consider it as a bold assertion., but the counties will bear me out as toitstonectness. Your lust and main object is live having a house built at Bangor a a corjip! i-ment to his Majesty but yonr attention to the second ob- ject is more confined than the case deserves— 1'. is a fact lhatitwüuLll be m<we gratify ing to our beloved King that the poor in their dis- -ressfui state of sickness should be assisted and benefitted, than tha,lhimse\J¡,h.ou!d be con; plimenled; and thcrefefc, the more extensive iy beneficial an instrkition is, the more con- genial would it be to f lie ftu iin»s «f «h- bene- volent Sovereign., and the more 'heartfelt sa- tisfaction would it afio-rd to every individual subscriber. A Dispensaryi large ptrpuions towns is a most comfortable, and a most, beneficial insti- tution for the rclicf of the sick poor. but this cannot be expected from one in any situation within these two counties; and therefore the poor, particularly those of the more remote parts, being by far the most numerous, and knowing that every degree of benefit to be derived from it, is completely out of their reach, have the greatest reason to petition you to invite your neighbours and friends of Carnarvon to the next Meeting (wheresHpar- ties should join in turning e11VY. displeasure wrath., e>"c..things not becoming, out of doors, j end unanimity, and an earnest desire todo the greatest good to the sick poor objects of the Meeting, be the order of the daj) and before it is too late, to take their seemingly neglect- ed case into your serioiw consideration, and to form some plan, of the benefit of which they may hope to be partakers. 1 cannot take my leave without saying bov much I am, Gentlemen, Your obedient servant, A CONSTANT READER.

Conversation between two aged trees, which :11 6 with others of their growth, were doomed to be cut down in Ireland. W ritten ill the West of that country, 1809. 1 The sound of thy wood Garmal'ar is lovely in mine ear." Ossxan. First tree. Why have I lived to see this day—neighbour, neighbour, many are the pleasant summers that have passed over our heads. Alas, what a change since the days of the good old squire the son desolates the banks of his native country, he dwells among strangers, while he lives by the miik drawn from the bosom of his own. distressed Erin- he hears not the wind whistle through his old trees—he has deserted the house of his father. Well a-day, and now we must fall! Second tree. Neighbour, I have long ex- el pected this; neglect aud desolation mark each spot-silent is the mansion, for many a year no smoke has arisen from its cliimtley,- mir bought are torn down, a.nd the long grass ft \grows wild at our feet,—but, the sou hears not our voice#, he sees uot the desola- lation. AVell-u-day, untimely we fall on our bairk*3 First tree. Ti« good old man loved and cherished us as part of Jiis family. In spring how he watched our young buds, in autumn how our varied hues delighted him, and he grieved iu his heart when the blasts of winter scattered our leaves. Well-a-day, often has he passed under our .boughs,often has he stoop- ed to pluck a weed from his favourite walk, which is now lost in weeds and rank-grown grass. Second tree. Ah, neighbour J "what a change since the days of our youth—no longer the beggar sits at the gate no more the smoke ascends from the chimney no more the laugh is heard; broken is tho circle of dear relations ;-iio'more the gate admits the long remembered guest, or ready opens to the welcome stranger no more the throng visi- tors pass under our boughs,therattiing chariot and the joyous days no longer are lieur(i%- the avenue is silent, neglected and sad. First tree. No more the flute resounds in the wood—no more on Saturday night the cheered peasantry assemble, to drink his ho-I nour's health—the old hall is grown damp and dark,—no longer does it brighten around —the full moon peeps through our boughs, but no longer does the joyous dance circle beneath birth-day festivities, and ,good old customs, and merry making nights are now no iyiore-ilic tenantry have no hopeful squire to look we to -see how he toils in yonder field; but with age, now he leans upon his spade, and drops a tear upon løeearth-dim through the peep of day. mom after morn sad comes he to It Is task-t(iiis he all day long, then returns to his wretched home, no longer I whistling-jocund. Thus in weary old age lxe I! | labours and n'ever seeg the Fac- of him, in whose name the rigid agent demands his hard- ly earned portion. Well-a-day, what a change. Second tree. Houses, trees and estates fall ] around—yonder mausion, like ours was once the house of good old customs-but the good old man fell, and things have not been the same ever since; the son is now with the strangers; and a needy farmer sits in his fa- ther's house. All day the cat is seen sitting at the broken windows, and at night she wanders up and down the lone apartments. A stranger comes up the neglected avenue, the farmer's cur sits at the door, and barks at his approach—the raggsd children run to see; but no good old host invites him in—he casts his eye around—ah, what-a change The old hall turned into a graiiary-tiic- lawn is prow", ed up, and the hills are sjripped of their wood. Ah, what a change First tree. Over your head neighbour I see a silent mansion in the plaiii-oii its dark grown side, the wintry rain has left its green mark, and the chimney has fallen in—that was once the house of gaiety the hospitable mansion of plenty, welcome, and delight,— the fiock-iug friends ami relations are dispers- ed—the family which for successive ages were the respected and notorious possessors, fallen, fallen, from their estate—and by adverse winds are driven who knows whiiher, and how far asunder 1 Second tree. Neighbour, we have long witnessed the sad desertioii--we have seen the fall of the trees of other houses; now upon our banks and upon the lawn, all of us must fall; no longer will the house peep through its wood—far off itshall be seen standing alone upon its hiih The traveller may say, whose house is that ? but the peasant will cast his dejected eye upon the ground and the memory of the good old times wili arise; the children may run to the hill, but no long er the hounds are seen dashing up the cover their voices no longer are heard, the sweet fally-o is inore and the huntsman's horn no li nger calls to the chase. No more the • aies admit the panting dogs, the heated horses., aiid the loud jovial party, Xo more will the yard throng with neighbouring squires, no more the welcome feast is spread, ihe noisT -bunting song, the bottle jest, and the roar of daughter circulates no more! tree. Tfve cr«ws will depart, (Hit no longer at eve shall the children watch their return. rear d a head of pride, careless grew iiiy I sported away my youth— low I am aged, and the willd that blows through my boughs sighs over the grave of him who loved me. The youth will not save the old trees, amongst whose shade he has grown to fee a-man. Often has our foliage delighted his eye often, full of ardour has he climbed our tall bodies. Grow Old, oh my sou, I said hi-s father among thy trees; love i-liem as o!d friends, thou art no where thyself but in the house of thy fathers." The nodding plumes passed under our houghs friends and relations followed. Alas I the good old times rest-sin the graves of the good old men. Second tree. Yesterday a snu beam glitter- ed upon a rock, to day it is gone. Alike, the good old tim-is brightened awnnd: alike they have passed away and the same never will be again The wind will biow over the plain; it will come to where tJleold trees used to whistle; 'twill sigh through the moss that grows over their father's trunks. Bleak it shall blow round the house the windows will rattle the slates will fiy a few years and the old family mansion falls to the ground. First tree. No more will the wooded bill delight the traveller; spring niay come, hut the sun beams light upon fallen trees—when the wind blew, like the rising surge on thedis. tant mournful sea, was our voices: but the wind may blow, the old trees will whistle no more. Second tree.-We have been the delight of the good old times-we have been loved and valued; we have seen the best of our days; what matter then how soon we are shaken— farewell neighbour the peasant hears the wind sigh through our boughs—he remembers the good old times—he drops a tear as he strikes the old trees J

Te the Editors of the North fVales Gazelle. GF.NTLEMEN, You may have observed partially in Wales what in Ireland is general; ancient family seats are deserted for bouses and equipage in Loudon, or other parts of Eii-latid.-Iti the best of times the emigration of principals, and the drawing their' wealth into foreign coun- tries, must hurt a depending peasantry-iu the house of distress, and at the moment of peril, where such practises exist—they cannot but destroy—Ireland the fairest island in the whole world-ever famed for its hospitality and bravery—green Erin, of Oaks, the land of milk and honey, and of generous sons-poor Ireland is at this moment deserted; her bles- sed natural resources, are cruelly prevented from an exercise, which with her admirable, (I may say unriyiied situation) for commerce would in a few years render her as rich and happy as her sister island. I have seen the fall of the oaks of Erin; every stroke of the axe went to my heart, and every stately tree that fell gave me regret-National glory is eclipsed! the times darken around, should effeminacy, and decay of patriotism continue among the Irish principals, together with other ills, it will not fail to end in the destruc. tion of a noble peasantry would to heaven, the desolation was as merely in the idea of the poet as the voices of the old trees. A CONSTANT READER. Carnarvon.

'I t ""111 To the Editors of the North Wales Gazette. Gentlemen, My business occasions me to travel in the course of the summer through several different counties in the western part of England, and on my journeys 1 make an anuual visit to the place of my nativity, to see an aged father, and many affectionate relations. I had for two or three summers observed, that the pas- tures, and cornfields were not so plentifully embellished with ragwort, docks, &c. which I made mention of in a domestic party of farmers, when one gentleman, raising him- self.to light his pipe at the caudle laid. Whj • • • r-. • ? I do not you know tfie reason Mr. John, lave not you heard that Sir Robert, has advanced the rent of every tenant in the whole Lord- I ship, and now we can not afford to have our I fields covered with rubbish, it must be now all good herbage, all butter and cheese, or, I am sure we should find some difficulty to pay our rents; when old Sir Thomas was living, he never advanced our rents, and we did not J need to care much, if there were a many weeds in our pastures, we had the land cheap | enough then but now we must endeavour to I iY;ake the most of it. One good thing is, the steward did not bring into his calculat ion, the | blind pits, and wide hedge banks, which were | in almost every field; and we have now thought f proper to fill up the pits, perhaps two or three in a field, lessen the width of the cops, and sometimes entirely remove them, and of two' I or three small inclosurcs, form one good I large field. I assure you Sir Robert has made us all look about us and 1 oWn I have added many acres of good laud to my farm but I should never have undertaken these troublesome jobs, if I had been kept on Ihe (),Id i-ent-, nor would many other gentlemen I in this company j but 1 am persuaded, that during the time of our leases, we shall make it up again. A TRAVELLER.

To the Editors of the N.rth Wales Gazette. Gentlemen. If you should think this hint worthy of a I place in your Gazette it is at your service. A FARMER. Some of the principal farmers in the county where I live, have this year adopted the practice of mowing their wheat, and not having it cut with the sickle, by which means they obtain a greater length of straw for the purpose of thatching, and also the quant ity j of straw is considerably increased. I had been often times witness to their great want of straw in winter to litter their cattle, and had recommended it to some of tlu in to mow the wheat stubbles, by which means they obtained I I a very considerable additional quantity of litter. But mowing the wheat, saves that additional trouble, is a more expeditious mc- thod, aud perhaps less expensive, aud is found to be not so liable to shed the grain out of ihe ears, as the rustling motion of gathering it iu the hand, to nil, it yvith the sickle is; and it is as easily collected together and bound. I believe the gleaners do not so well approve of this method, and the reason is obvious. I am only apprehensive, that some of my slo .cnly neighbours will not now think it so necessasy to weed the thistles from amongst the young corn, since before, if their fields of wheat were infested with lhoeprickly gentry, the labourers were not so willing to under- take the job. It was a general observation, that when labourers undertook to shear a Held of wheat, unless they were carefully looked to, that they seldom cut it lower than their knees, by which means one half of tbe straw was left to decay upon the land, and of no we whatever. D.

To the Editors of the North Wales Gazette. Gentlemen, X Permit me through the medium-of yonr va- luable and interesting paper, to express the satisfaction that I feel in reading the proceed- ings of the Agricultural Societies in North Wales and the various accounts of the patri- otic gentlemen, who, stimulated by the best of mothes, are endeavouring to rescue their native wilds from a state of unproductive ap I pearance, to that of sylvan scenes, and agri cultural improvements. Though unable now to contribute my mite to the accomplishment of these salutary exertions yet, my whole faculties are warmed, when I consider their future good consequences. But, the Cambri- ans were ever Patriots I and now, tinder the mildest and most equitable of governments, and the paternal auspices of the best of Kings, they are enabled to draw forth, and exert their utmost energies. Nor do 1 contemplate with lets satisfaction, the proceedings and resoluti- ons of the Menai Pitt Club. The superior dis- crimination, and staunch patriotism of those gentlemen, will remain a lasting monument to licirliotiotirl and future generations, (when the butterflies and champignions of the pre- sent day are consigned to oblivion) will re- flect with pleasure, ou. the conduct of their an- cestors, who boldly stcpt forward to withstand the enemies of our establishment and social order i and discountenanced the wild delusions of distempered or designing men. A DISTANT CAMBRIAN.

MISCELLANIES. LOllgevi(y.-On the morning of Saturday se'unight, four persons met accidentally at Mr. J. Bell's barber, in the village of Dalston, about four milts from Carlisle, for the pur- pose of having their chins operated upon, whose united ages amounted to 321 years; one being 90, another 84, another 77, and another 70. What is more remarkable, the same four old gentlemen had met each other casually for two Saturdajs before, and each time they were the only persons present. On the 2d inst. a man was apprehended at Whitehaven, charged with poisoning a young woman at Wigtown, in Galloway, under very atrocious circumstances. It appears, that under various pretences he Contrived to se- duce this credulous girl, and about six months afterwards he not only refused her marriage, but even administered a quantity of poison, which, we understand, produced au abortion that terminated her existence a few days after- wards.—He passed through Carlise on Monday I week on his way to Scotland. Arabian Honour. Osuian Bey, greatly alarmed at the arrival from England of Eifi Bey, who since the death of Murad Bey, had been his rival, determined to cut him off, and sent down two boats with troops to intercept him as he was coming up the Nile, A violent gale of wind, accompanied by a cloud of sand came on; Elfi sheltered himself behind a point of land, on which was a village. The n boats with the troops of Osman Bey passed without acting him; but lie jisiceived them., aud having some suspicion, immediately landed, and, quitting his b.«ggage, with five or six followers escaped into the desert. These soon left him, as the way was long and diffi- cult. A length, after a tedious march of ten hours on foot, be arrived at the tent of Nasr Chedid in the desert, with whom he was on ill terms, and claimed protection. Nasr was himself absent with Osman Bey, whom he had joined with all his people at his camp before Caira, where he waited the event of the at- tack on Elfi. Chedid s wife received and con- cealed him. Some of Osman's people cams there, and asked if she had seen Elfi. She said yes and that he had passed by a way sho ■ pointed out to them. As soon as they were gone, she told Elfi, and bringing him one or her husband's favorite horses, and a dromcda- ry, she desired him to escape to Upper Egypt but to avoid the road which she had desired* the troops of Osman to take; Eifi hesitated, and told her he was unwilling to endanger her husband's safety, who was in the power of Osman. She replied, it was no matter; her husband's honour required that she should as- sist him in escaping; and that were he there.. he would do the same himself, and that lie would make her suffer if any thing happened to him. Soon afterwards, oil being told the way that Elfi had escaped, Osman sent for Chedid, and accused him of having assisted hit enemy. He replied, you know, Osman Bey, I have been three days here with you; h\,w then is it possible that 1 could do so ?" "Well then," said Osman, "it was your wife that did so" It was," replied Chedid. "Eili demanded protection from her, and she only did her duty;—had she done otherwise, I would have cut her head off with this sabre, though you know Flfi was never a friend of mine."P'iscount ( alcniia s Travels. An Ilbyssiniqn Review.—Opposite the n a. was a gateway, in a room over which sat the officers of state, to regulate the review.—. Through this gateway the chiefs came iu se- paiateiy, one after the other, each with his respective followers. First entered the caval- ry, with the chief at their head, galloping round the circus, and brandishing their ffpean with great agility. The dresses of these con- sisted for the most part of kincaubs, embroi- dered damask, flowered with gold, or black velvet st udded with ornaments of silver,thrown as a scarf over their shoulders, and fastened with a gold clasp across She breast. Round their heads they weBr h.uuiages, formed of yellow, green, or red satin, tied behind, long and streaming loosely as they rode; some in- stead of this ornament, had only fillets of skin round their heads, the hairs of which,standing upwards, gave an additional wildness to their appearance some few had horns of gold, ei- ther perpendicular ab»ve their foreheads, or projecting forwards: and several, on the up- per part of their arm, had a silver disk, of both which Bruce has given a representation. Others wore bracelets of silver, in the shape of a horse collar, round their right arms, equal in number to the enemies they had slain. The horses were richly caparisoned, and bore on their fronts the bloody garments tlf fou slaughtered by their riders. Each chief, after riding round the circus seven or eight times, presented himself directly before the Mas, in a menacing attitude, recited in poppous lan- guage the actions which he had erformed, I and concluded, by throwing down before him the indubitable trophies of his valour, which had before been hanging above the bracelet* on his right arm. One chief brought oiily a Ile I knite, that he had taken from his opponent. xThe chiefs are not the only ones who thutf present themselves before the Ras, for every ragged rascal among the foot-soldiers who enter in a throng after the horsemen, has the same privilege. Among these latter, horribly to relate, were some wretches, probably fol. lowers of the camp (for they were not soldi- ers,) savage enough to produce unquestion- able evidence, that boys, not men, had been the victims of their fury. At this i expressed to the Has my abhorrence so strongly, that- actuated by the same feelings, he refused thenrl those marks of approbation which he had in- variably shown to others. The inferior war- riors were clad iu skins, chiefly those of sticel), some of which were bordered with blue and red of different shades. Intermixed with the foot soldiers, who were mostly armed with spears and shields, the matchlock men camtr in most irregular order, to the number of at least fifteen hundred, whose gestures were, if possible, more ludicrous than those of thtf spearmen, imitating, as it appeared to me, men hunting wild beasts among the bushes: the conclusion of their frolic was firing their muskets as nearly as possible to the legs of their opponents, then drawing their knives, and making a blow to finish the murderous execution of their matchlocks. There were in this way many single mock fights between spearmen and musqueteers, but it was alwayg managed that the latter should prove victori- ous. This extraordinary review was* concluded by the marching in on one side, of the band, mounted on mules, and beating th# heavy drums and on the other, of itigii, bear- iug the. ornaments of the church, walking in profession, —This day greatly biassed our opi- nion in favour of the horsemauship of the Abyssinians < I think them in this respect fully equat to the Arabs, and considering the stir- rups that they use, which are merely small rings of iron intp which they put two large toes, there is no slight praise. In the use of the spear they are particularly expert, aud they have a particular method of vibrating it in the hand, which has a very warlike and classical appearance. In fine, they seem 111 bar as complete horsemen as possible without dis- cipiine, of which, indeed, they are totally ig- norant.—S'iscount f^alentia'$Travels, .Advertizing Money-lenders.—A verdict of 5,8501. was gained in the Court of Kii),, Ia Bench, on Wednesday the 61h against a Mr. Browne, a celebrated advertizing nH¡.y. lender, for usury. Among other liberal tran- sactions proved on the trial, we state the fol- lowing the plaintiff, who was in reduced circumstances, wanted a loan of SaOl. on !;is own note, at two months-afterdate, for whtck he paid the following sums, besides depmitiv^ with the agents oj the lender a number (tfvaiur* tybie pictures, as security for Ike principal Himi F I 171. 0. t) arrant of attorney 42s, interest 4 45s. stamp 5s. J < — I. It