OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE PEACE.

Colonist, Volume III, Issue 215, 11 November 1859, Page 3

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE PEACE.

{from the Times.) The onward march of events maintains its pace. Since Napoleon's arrival in Italy scarce a day has passed without some startling fact. We have described three great battles and we have announced a truce, and we had hardly time to calculate the probabilities that out of this truce a peace would come when hot upon the intelligence that an armistice was concluded come tidings of the sequel we had predicted. The whole seems to have been arranged between the two emperors at the interview that took place at Villafranca. Louis Napoleon is true to the precedents of the founder of his house. As Napoleon the Great granted an armistice to the Emperor Alexander after the. great battle of Friedland, and three days afterwards, settled the outlines of a treaty upon " the raft of Tilsit," so Napoleon, the nephew, has given to his victory at Solferino the historical sequences of an armistice, an interview, and a preliminary treaty. What happened on the raft at Tilsit is all now history; what happened in that room at Villafranca we cannot yet know, but we may hope With confidence that the conversation between the imperial negociators of 1859 did not commence in the same words which opened the conference of 1807. Alexander's first expression to Napoleon was—"l hate the English as much as you do, and am ready to; second you in all your enterprises against them." Francis .^id not, we imagine^ ifius commence j nor didi Quf good ally and fast friend answer, as his uncle answered—"ln that case, everything will b«i easily arranged, and peace is already made.'* Happily, England has for once nothing to do with this arrangement; and, when Austria and France make up their disputes, the secret articles that may be agreed upon cannot with any reason bear reference to jealousies or hatred of this empire. The two emperors met at Villafranca alone. Doubtless, there was at Villafranca, as at Tilsit, the splendid staff, comprising the marshals of both empires. But there does not appear to have been any intervention of professional diplomatists. Faoe to face and mind to mind Napoleon 111. and Francis Joseph discussed the present and determined the future. Such is, as we know, the French Emperor's habit in things of far less importance than the re-settlement of Europe and the creation of two new kingdoms. Francis Joseph was fain to follow where the more powerful mind led, and we may fairly speculate that if it be French policy that peace with Austria shall be lasting, there is little left for any European Conference to carp or cavil over. But the emperors seem to have been alone, not only in the sense of having no ministers to clog their counsels, but also in the still more important sense that they had no allies to start difficulties or to interpose pretensions. We hear no mention of Sardinia. One of the principal topics dwelt on in the manifesto that pretended to justify this war was that Austria insisted, contrary to natural justice, on excluding Sardinia from the congress which was to bind her to peace and order. Sardinia had been the cause, or at least the excuse, for this harvest of glory which is now being garnered. She has seen her country wasted, her.finances ruined, and her army cut up. She has fought with a bravery which gives the friends of Italy fresh hope of an Italian nation. On the day of the great batfie she encountered with credit double her own number*"of Austrians. It was her cause that was risked upon the fortune of war, it was her country that was devastated, it was to her banner that all Italy was called upon to rally; we do not hear that the King of Sardinia, who had been so conspicuous at Solferino, played as large a part at Villafranoa. This is rather a potent symptom, and it already begins to look as if our predictions of the rather tame part he would have to play everywhere, except in the fighting, would be fulfilled. Not that we ever anticipated that the French emperor would be ungenerous to his ally. Napoleon is too grand a seigneur for th,a.t, We felt that be would be, and we now admit that he is, even lavish of. the spoil; but Sardinia must be content to take it from the great man, and upon the great mau's'conditions. Lombardy is ceded to the emperor, and the emperor transfers it to the King of Sardinia. We shall hear no more of uniting all Italy in one powerful kingdom under Victor Emmanuel. If we would pursue the history of the Sardinian nation, it must be to watch the fortunes of her constitutional institutions, or to canvass the question whether the result of the war has been to annex Lombardy to Piedmont, or to annex Piedmont to Lombardy, We may have also to mark whether the Lombards are settling down contentedly under the Sardinian riband; whether Milan is satisfied \o call iliirinner metropolis. For the present, ; however, Louis Napoleon monopolises the glory and the power. He is evidently determined that the world shall make no mistake as to who is the liberator of Italy. It is he, Napoleon 111., who is imposing his will upon the beaten Francia Joseph, and when it is done the King o| Sardinia will, of course, be permitted, to sign the conditions be has exto?te4 But let Sardinia be grateful and V^stioe be thankful; let. Tuscany wa,U »& orders, and the Romans refrain from cheering General Goyon too boisterously. The two eagles are in the air, circling in friendly flight. Lefreyery meaner thing opwer on the earth and beware the swoop. Will Italy be content with this freedom from the Alps; to the Adriatic? Is the Pope so popular in his sovereign capacity that all Italy will congratulate themselves upon being brought under his '• honorary" Presidency I Does Sardinia feel no suspicion that tfyera, was some wisdom in the advice, sp qfteri. tendered her, to labour out by p^pefuj means apd by the, progress of'industry and intelligence the \ g&dww ©.mancipation of the Italian race ? We ispeik not, of Victor Emmanuel,' *He will jreceive a! great accession of territory; he will have bartered a dream for a moderate realjiy, and according to; the ordipary notions of. ordinary kings he comes out a gamer r It is true that he shines palely k toe glarie of, his benefactor's oorvj anpj tyrlijsi dignity's sa,ke he is a. \\\\h too "much under/the. hand of his gigantic friend. Rehas,' corae to be ti thought i for, and ; acted for, and treated for;. but he has 'grown'into a larger,; Power and under the, patronage of revive. It is of the. jpeople of S^jnia^ that we would: inquire whether tliey aye still so sanguine of the good |efleots of tbis French alliance as they were four months ago? Have they no nervousness, •about those constitutional institutions which they gave up so loyally to the good; keeping of their king, to be restored when the moment of ,!peril should have passed away ?! AridlKdssutb, is arrested when in the a<^ q^ firing the train which was to wrajn Bui^garyi in BmokeaiKUum^wha^tbj^^heatt^isJaoDaent Lot t^Empe^yth^l)^ w all

manufacturing" towns ? Matters are not looking so well as they might look for these apostles of confusion and enemies of peaceful advancement ; but they have nothing left' to do but to make the best,of it. The Sardinians must hope that the Emperor of the French will take care that their former free government is re-established in Piedmont. , The Lombards must hope that constitutional government will be extended to Lombardy, and upon a cheaper , scale than it was worked in Sardinia. Venice must hope that her independence will not be a mere name, and that the influence of France and Austria united will not be more unbearable than the rule of Austria singly. The Eomans must hope that the" Italian confederacy under the honorary presidency of the Pope" will be nothing like any Government they have hitherto known, under these too infallible auspices. Kossutb must also hope that the restoration of the kingdom of Hungary is, although at present unreported, included in the programme of the new treaty. All this may be in the minds of the two Emperors, and may be intended by the scanty hints we have of the conditions of their alliance; and, if so, Villafranca will in all ages yet to come take precedence of Tfrlsit. The absence of Sardinia from the conference will then be explained upon the supposition that the two Imperial friends met alone in order that they might prepare this most agreeable surprise to) the friends of humanity throughout the world. ; - History tells us. what passed at^ Tilsit, and some French memoir will doubtless at V futiire day relate what was the conversation' at Villafranca. It is not necessary, however, to wait for the authentic report; the results suggest what the conversation must have beeni " Surely," we can imagine Francis Joseph to have said, " my imperial brother cannot intend to revolutionise Hungary, and to establish a focus of insurrection in Italy?'* "Not the least in the worlds I care no more for these Italians than you do. This matter has gone quite far enough for my purpose. You see now that France is necessary to Austria. We will settle this affair, and I will leave you stronger in Italy than you ever were. I will also make everything straight between you and Russia. You shall be one of us, and we three together will impose law on Europe." Is it to be wondered at that Francis Joseph, with a beaten army and a bankrupt exchequer, was not proof against such temptation ?" {From the Daily News,) We affirm, as truth commands us to affirm, that the just hopes and expectations of Italy are deceived f that the Emperor of the French has once more broken his word in the face of Europe; that civilisation deplores the unavailing sacrifice of thousands of brave men: and tbit history will call him to a strict account for having made war on false pretences, and signed a mock and selfish peace. A peace that leaves Austria impregnably fortified in the heart of Northern Italy: commits Central Italy to the patronage of the Pope, and to the constant menace of military interventions on the part of the Pope's patrons and protectors; takes no account of the welfare of the people, substitutes for national independence a confederation under lock and key of Austrian garrisons—such a peace as this, we say, is ill-atoned for by the magnanimous transfer of Lombardy from, the Austrian to the French Emperor, and from .the French Emperor to the gallant King; of Pjedmont. ...... „.,,.., ......... V 1 An Italian Confederation under the hondrary presidency of the Pope was the dream which one of the most devoted and patriotic Italians that ever pleaded for the Papacy, the AbbS Gioberti, abandoned in despair, and died brokenhearted for his pains. The retention of Venice by Austria is a strange interpretation of Italian independence, and must be singularly welcome to the friends of the great and good Manin. The closer we examine the pretended pacification, the more futile and iniquitous it appears. It may serve as a pedestal of glory to an emperor who has rescued a brother despot at the cost of his honor-—" but that's not much"—and sown the seed of future wars for the time when a half-sated army shall once more be impatient of barracks. It is understood, that the Emperor of the French was in a hurry to be beforehand with the invitation of the neutral powers;' and that the imperial interview at Villafranca, preceded, like the preliminaries of Leoben, by sentimental messages of condolence, and concluded by the second edition of a €ampo Formio treaty, is a coup-deth?alw for which that indefatigable royal negotiator, who but for the Campo For- . mia treaty would not be on the throne of Belgium, deserves at least as much credit as a stage carpenter for the concluding tableau of a spectacle. However this may be, we should heartily concur in the abstract doctrine that England is better aloof from these miserable transactions, were we not painfully convinced of the impossibility of diplomatic abstinence where dynastic interests are concerned. The Treaty of Peace is at present a rough draft. When the fair copy is signed and sealed by the European Powers, we trust that England at all events Will not set her seal to a renewal of Austrian tenure in Venetia, or the " honorary presidency" of tbe Pope, guaranteed by a double foreign occupation without end. : : Votre majeste fait de lien beau® v&rsy mate elle se moque de monde, wrote Voltaire |o Frederick the Great in ackaowledging a'copy of verses from that fighting philosopher in praise of peaceandgoodw.il]; ampng.iaen, Central Italy will be dig^p&ed to majce the same 'reply to the proclamation in which the conqueror of Solferino ) announces a treaty of peace between the Em- ! peror of. Austria and himself ? and the reßt of i the world will be equa% complimentary and distrustful In thesp electric,days we need not be surprised at svdden wars and instantaneous truces—at oampaigns of a few weeks, and paci- ! ficatipn, war/anted! to last six. months. But , Europe.will scan with curious interest the terms [which the Emperor of Austria was willing to accept before his Quadrilateral had even smjelt the powder of the allies, and the conditions of ; peace patched up between two emperors who: paid each other a morning call at Villafranca. i For our boasted civilisation of the 19th century 'comes to this—a prize fight on the scale! of 200,000 men a, side, between a couple o£ personages, neither of whom can peisuade the other to take a licking, terminates^ nhen bpth are tried, with a . shakehands, andl a joint agreement to clap the stakes, ia a bag, and walk off to the nearest tavern, to divide them. The campaign in the Crimea*, was considered a different affair ia Us objeojts > its results, and the strength, and pio^r^po, of the cpmbatants en* gageA; to^ the. campaign in Italy which has rfypwn, ijsejf, out fa forty days. 'We are now permitted to observe in what manner and degree ' the declared pjtogsaame of the French Emperor —lheco«ipl«te expulsion of Austria ftom Italy—

balf-an-hour's chat The first Napoleon did enormous mischief in the world.in! the course' of twenty years, but, at , any rate, he did his work as thoroughly as it was, after wards undone, when Europe shook him off! The, inheritor of his name transacts a war like the director of a circus, with all the brilliant dexterity of a Franooni. .'Just as the summer season is beginning jin the Champs Elys6es, the display of, military /horsemanship begins in Lombardy ; only the i latter performance is arrested by the dog clays, whilst even at the Porte St. Martin the Vote SacrSeis still traversed by triumphant legions, and the enthusiasm of pit and gallery knows no check. It was rumoured a fortnight since in Paris that the Emperor was to be at St. Cloud on the 15th July, and he is known to have assured, his staff that they would all celebrate the St. Napoleon in Paris. The armistice, therefore, with all the tales, of chivalrous courtesies exchanged between the sovereigns, was in all probability by no means so sudden an inspiration as it looked. There is nothing to surprise the English public in the French Emperor stealing a march on his ally to come to terms with his enemy, and we are quite prepared to find, him coquetting with Austria in 1859 as he did with Russia in' 1856. Europe to the Napoleonio mind is an artichoke to be eaten leaf by leaf, and the simple plan is to play /off one Power against another, : using and ; betraying each by turn. This plan may (certainly^succeed, ■for a time, but it has the disatfyan&ge^£!alF excessive cunning, and overleaps itself at last, The doubtful friend of each comeß to be treated as the common enemy of all, and a system of nicely balanced treacheries is apt to meet the fate of a whist player whose luck is too well known. ■ j [From the Economist.) . : Preliminaries of peace have been signed, and the Italian war is nominally over. The funds have risen both here and in France; there is a general jubilee of admiration and rejoicing; men throw up their caps, embrace their neighf bor, praise Louis Napoleon, and go about theip usual avocations with the feeling that great things have been achieved,and great dangers averted. We can share no such sentiments. iWe can neither approve nor rejoice. We can | well understand that tender-hearted men to whom the horrors and sufferings of war are more dreadful than any cause is dear, maybe delighted that such miseries are suspended in any manner and at any cost. We can well understand that two Emperors who have been playing at war for six weeks with the thermo* meter at 95 degrees in the shade, at a cost of twenty millions a piece, and who have seen 50,000 men slain or dying around them, may be sick of the sanguinary game and be willing to draw, their stakes. But that practical statesmen or thoughtful observers can be of opinion that anything has been gained by such a war or anything concluded by such a peace; that competent politicians can imagine that Italy has gained, independence or that Napoleon has gained honor, we are utterly unable to comprehend. In our judgment Italy has gained nothing—the question is still open; the sore is still unbealed; while the Emperor of the French has, in the moment of apparent victory, and for the sake of a theatrical effect, abandoned all his high pretensions, and violated all his generous promises; and returns to Paris, nominally a conqueror^ but in reality a defeated and dishonored man. The terms and circumstances of this pacification render it, iri our opinion, one of the most hollow, unjust, and cynical on record; and—except with reference to the personal vanity and possible ulterior designs of Napoleon himself—one of the most impolitic. Count Cavour has done, well to resign. He has been bitterly^ deceived. Whether long-standing prejudices, in favour of Napoleonism for Italy, as has often been asserted, w«re the cause of his French policy—or,whether he thought, like the liberal party in England, ourselves amongst the number, that great as was the risk, the expulsion of Austria from Italy, which could have been accomplished in bo other way, was an end almost justifying that risk—he has found that i Italian objects are entirely subordinated to the ' objects of France, who wishes to play off Piedmont and the Pope as her instruments ia regulating Italian affairs. Like his uncle, Louis Napoleon has not hesitated a moment about replacing Venetia, Parma [?)Modena, and Tuscany under the influences of Austrian ascendancy, and has even fortified it by securing for Austrian Venetia that express influence in the councils of the minor States of Italian federation, which it was the main ground of complaint against Austria that she formerly exercised without any pretence of European right. Well may Count Cavour and his colleagues resign, and thereby intimate to the whole of Italy that the Italian cause is, in fact, betrayed. In memorandum after memorandum Count Cavour has shown that this network of Austrian influence in Italy has been the one barrier in the way of Italian unity and combined con - stitutional action, and now he was asked to assent to a measure which legalises that influ- ■ ence. He could do nothing but resign, Pied- ! Mont was crippled with a gift that only French 1 troops can keep for her, and Austria strengthened by being enthroned beside the Pope in an association of the smaller stats. But notwithstanding Count Cavour's 'grievious disappointment arid betrayal, we maintain that both the Italian' and English.1 liberals were right in claiming for his policy that, if somewhat rash, it at least held out a chance such as no patriot could lightly throw away. Events have amply proved two things, s first, that only a power as great as France had the smallest chance of excluding Austria from the peninsula; next that it was really, as it has proved, for the self-interest of Napoleon to play an at least apparantly disinterested part ia his policy towards Italy. That it has not proved a really disinterested game is true, hut Sardinia had we must remember, little choice in her policy. Unaided by England, constantly threatened by Austria; in a narrow circle of despotic states which were always seizing the opportunity of copying the Austrian policy in quarrelling with her— ..her very existence as a liberal end constitutional state depended on some successful and necessarily hazardous effort to free herself from this imprisonment. She has failed. It may be even, that the new ministry will scarcely dare : to re-introduce a constitutional system so much freer than that of her great patron. Still she has failed in a policy that was almost forced upon her in the naturally: excited state of Italian liberalism. And we will not in the present hour of his trial withhold our hearty admiration from the great statesman whe has so long and so ably forkedl ft* the liberation of Italy'from Austrian domination, and has thrown up U& great 'post directly it^ became evident that France %«* really endangeriag or ruining, inmta*A <nf rnna*AJmntt. khatk aftOSfl.

THE SMUGGLER'S CAVE. y , FROM: THE OPAPfiRSI Q$ A) RJSVEN'UEf.QIfIQER. For more than a year our,revenue vessels upon the sea,"and a posse upon?!the land, had been in search of the smuggler, Ralph Morwood; but he had; eluded us at every step, and still carried on his illicit traffic in spite of us. We knew that the northern part of Lancashire wasr flooded with rum and brandy of his'smuggling; initthe people along the coast were all friendly to him, and lent him their assistance^ Finally we learned, through careful spies' whom we sent out, that his usual place of entry was somewhere on the eastern shores of • Morecambe Bay, between the Wash of the Loyne and Westmorland, and furthermore, that he had a great quantity of contraband liquor stored near the coast- >" After considerable consultation;it was decided that I should take the matter into my own hands and ferrit out 'the depot of the smugglers if I could. -I had not much hopes of success where so many failed; but perhaps fortune might faVor me; so I took it. I was permitted to. call for.. as^many men as I wanted, and I selected thirty of the most reliable*' and "baHeUhem make their way to Lancaster, and there remain till I called for them. I instructed; them not to go in company,"."but T' to "travel" along as though each other was on business of his own, and not herd together after they reached the city, only being sure to have such an arrangement among themselves that'they could be assembled with the least possible delay. A lieutenant, named Windham, was to be their leader, and with him I had an understanding, so that I could find him at any. moment. These arrangements were made at Liverpool, and as soon as I had seen my men off —some by water, and some by land—l proceeded to get ready to start myself. I got a pedler's license, and then bought a couple of small tin trunks, which I filled with trinkets and nicknacks of almost all discriptions, and having assumed a garb befitting my new calling, I took the stage for Lancaster, from whence I travelled on foot as far as Carnford. ; At this latter place I made some inquiries, but could learn nothing which I had not known before, though I suspected that much more was known than was told to me.'.: I had my trunks hung over my shoulders by a broad leathern strap, and I stopped and opened them, and bartered and gossiped at the same time. A short distance beyond Carnford the post-road makes an abrupt turn to the right, while a narrower way leads on by the coast towards the confines of Westmoreland. The latter road was the one I took, for I felt that the nearer I kept to the sea, the more likely 1 should be to learn something of the smuggler. I reached a point where the road led through a wild, woody and rocky district, sometimes close to the coast, and at others farther off. Where it was furthest from the water there were hills and woods, and huge crags intervening, and it struck; me as being the very sort of a spot wrong-doers would choose for a landing place, for amid such a wild, intricate mass of rock and wilderness, there must be paths.in which one acquainted with them could easily elude any number of pursuers. It had got to be near five o'clock, and the nearest village ahead was in Westmoreland, so I determined to keep on to that place and spend the night, and then hover about until I could gain some positive intelligence. I had just started on with this intention, when I noticed a storm was at hand. Heavy black clouds had rolled up over the rocks and hills, and the wind was rising. I could not see the waters of the bay, for a long line" of crags and woods was between them and the road; but I could hear the breakers dashing over the rocks, and I knew the sea was not far distant. Very soon the wind broke into fitful gusts, and large drops of rain began to fall. I hurried on, and ere long had the good fortune to see a dwelling on the road-side, only a short distance ahead. It was a small steep-roofed cot, thatched with straw, with a few dilapidated out-buildings, situated on the left-hand side of the way, and surrounded by dense woods. The door was open, and I entered without ceremony, for at that moment the rain came pouring down in a torrent. The only inmates were an old woman and a girl, the latter being a stout rugged looking creature, some, sixteen years of age. I asked if I! could have shelter there from the storm. The woman looked into my face with a searching glance, and finally said yes. So 1 placed my trunks in one corner, and. then r sat down., I was considerably wet,'-and?feeling somewhat chilly, I asked if there were any spirits in the house. At a sign from the old woman the girl brought me some, which I found to be pure old French brandy. * That is something of the right stamp,' I said as I wiped my lips. . «Yes,'vreturned my hostess. 'It is some that my son brought up from Lancaster.' . I had a strong suspicion that she was lying, but I kept my thoughts to myself, and pretty soon she commenced to get supper. The storm grew more furious, and I noticed that both the. females were very anxious, and! that they frequently went to the back door, and listened to the roar of the distant breakers., Nine o'clock came, and as it still rained hard, I remarked that I should have to remain with them" over night The old woman made no objections, but took up a candle and led me away into a little apartment in one corner, were I found two mattrasses spread upon the floor. She told me that was the best she could do, and if I could sleep thiere I was welcome. I answered that I was grateful for any port in a storm, and with a mumbling reply, which I eoujc] not understand, she left f* _ * #kS m§ws\ Mi, ISof

had been used for sheets, I covered myself up. I soon fell asleep, and when. I was next awakened, it was by some one's entering the cot. I heard a rough voice call out for the old woman, and in a few moments more I heard her reply. 'Hush!' she uttered. 'Is that you, Ralph?' «Yes,' returned the new-comer. eße careful,' she added, • for there's a 'loper in the bunk-room.' 'A'loper?' repeated the man, with an oath. * What's he doin* here ?' 'He's only a poor pedler that got caught in the storm. He'll do no damage if ye let him be.' ; I heard thus much, and then I heard more men enter—two more, at least—-and then the door was closed. After this a light was struck, the rays from which shone through the cracks of my thin partition, and then followed some conversation in suppressed tones. Fortune had thrown me in upon the track, sure enough. That Ralph Morwood was in the next room was certain, and I was equally certain that this was one of his regular posts. Presently I heard the old woman say that she knew I was asleep, and then Morwood replied that he would convince himself of it before he trusted me. I saw, from the motion of the light, that he had taken up the candle, and as quickly as possible I sank down, and pretended to be in a sound sleep. He came into my room, and having gazed upon me a few moments, he held the candle close to my face, and passed it to and fro. But I made no movement. Then the light was withdrawn, and the fellow muttered :—« •I'll kill him while he sleeps, and there'll be no more trouble! This knife'll find his heart before he can know he is hurt!' ; For a single instant there was a thought of self-preservation flashing through my mind, but before I had made any movement with that design, I remembered that this might be only another test, and I pretended to sleep on. I heard him draw his knife, and knew that he was bending over me; but he soon went away, and softly closed my door after him, after which I heard him in conversation with his companions. I got upon my hands and knees, and crept softly to where I had seen the widest crack, through which I easily gained a view of the occupants of the other room. There were three of them—stout hard, rough-looking fellows—and the old woman was with them. It would be useless to note all the conversation I heard; but I heard all I could nave desired. I learned that the smugglers had a secret place, close at hand, where they stored such of their contraband goods as they were forced to land before they were sold; and also that they had a cargo or the coast which they must bring up as soon as possible, and they had come uj now to make arrangements for tha purpose. 1 «We shall be ready to commence :aj twelve o'clock to-morrow night,' saic Ralph Morwood, * and you must see oui friends in the morning, and be sure thai they will be on hand.* These 'friends,' I learned, were peasants in the neighborhood, and who lent their assistance in landing goods when required. The old woman promised that everything should be attended to in season, and furthermore remarked that she would see the coast was kept clear. Morwood came into my room again to try me, but I stood the test, # and shortly afterwards he and his companions left the cot. In the morning I got up, and eat breakfast with my hostess. She was very particular to know if I had slept well, and I assured her that I was never better satisfied with a night's rest in my life. I gave her half-a-crown, and then slung my trunks over my shoulders, and took my leave. The distance to Lancaster was only fifteen miles, and I reached that city by the middle of the forenoon. I found Windham at his tavern, and before noon all my men had been notified. It was arranged that we should meet, at eight o'clock that evening, in a small wood between there and Carnford, when we would proceed upon our mission. At the time appointed we were all together in the wood, and I then related to my men what I had seen and heard. I described to them the location of the cot where I had spent the night, and ordered theua to follow me, and halt at my further directions. I was to go ahead, and they were to drop along, singly, or in couples, so as; not1 to excite the suspicion of any of the.peasants who might chance to see us, By eleven o'clock we were together again, close by the smuggler's cot. We found a good'hiding place in the wood, where we could observe any one who might approach- the dwelling; and there we lay. in wait. About half!an hour after midnight we heard the tramp of men coming up through the wood from the sea, and ere long we saw dusky forms approaching the cot. We could. not. distinguish much by the dim starlight, but; we could see that there were, a large number of them, and that they stopped: by one of the small outbuildings. In a few; moments more, we heard the squealing of a pig, and shortly after that the fellows were busily at work. We took our way carefully: down, under cover of the wood, and when we came to the point where we must show ourselves, fI gave a loud shout, and dashed forward, with my men close at my > heels.;! The smugglers were taken so completely fey surprise that we had a score of them down, and handcuffed ere they knew what had happened. :The remainder 'showed sqme fight but we quickly overcame; them,, and when we had, no more fightingl to! da we. locked round to see what had been;

going on. There were some forty small kegs of spirit lying upon the ground, while close at band I observed a large opening in the earth, like the mouth of a pit, with a; broad fence upon three sides of it. I took one of the lanterns which the smugglers; had dropped, and examined the mysterious looking place. I found it to be a curious contrivance. In the day time this had seemed to be but a very ordinary pig-pen the bottom covered with straw and dirt* and a pig grunting about in it; and it had been passed and re-passed many times by officers who were in search of thei smuggler's depot without suspicion. But now the pig had been removed, the straw cleared away, the plank flooring taken up, and the way opened to a vast subterranean vault, where we found over five hundred casks of different sizes, and containing various kinds of liquor; besides several boxes of tea, tobacco, and sugar. As soon as I had seen by prisoners safe,1 I took half of my men, and moved down the coast. It was a crooked hidden way, among rocks and trees, but it had been travelled so much that, by the help of the lanterns, we managed to follow it. At the water's edge we found three boats, in charge of six men; and as they thought that we were friends until we were close upon them we had no difficulty in securing them. The boats were loaded with kegs of brandy, and had just come to the shore. Not far off I saw a brig at anchor, which I knew must be the smugglers' vessel, and having learned that only two of the crew were on board, .1 had one of the boats cleared out, and then sent off four of my men in her to take the brig, and stay on board till I relieved them. . ; - My next movement was to find a horse, which 1 did without trouble, and then I sent a man off to Lancaster with orders for a posse of men from that port. 3 ust at day - light, my messenger returned with twenty men, and after that our work was easy. We captured the whole smuggler crew, took their, vessel, and got contraband goods to the amount of between five and six thousand pounds sterling. , . : 'Aha ! you're the pedlar, ,eh ? cried Ralph Morwood, when he saw my face by daylight. * Exactly so.' * Oh!' he added, with a gaash of the teeth and a furious clanging of: his irons, 'I wish I'd only known it !^—ye would'ht have done > this my fine fellow!' «I'm just as much obliged to you/I returned. * But if you'd pricked me with your knife, or burnt my nose with your candle, I might have waked up.' ' He said no more, and I passed on to the : cot, in hopes to find the old woman and the damsel there, whom I had entirely neg- ; lected during the night. But they had ■ flown. However, we had enough,'and as the hospitable dame had helped me so much ! I was rather glad she had gone. 5 Deplorable ignorance. —An instance of } the most deplorable ignorance occurred lately at the. Police office. An intelligent t looking boy,, thirteen years of age, the son 1 of a farmer residing at Sandy Bay; was ! called by his brother as a witness in an as- : sault case, but when questioned by the t- Bench Clerk, he exhibited, what we have stated—the most deplorable igno- ! ranee. He did not know the Bible; ' he did not know what it was to • tell a lie; he knew no prayers; and had \ ' never been to school. The father, who was • in court, was severely reprimanded by Mr. ! Hone for his culpable neglect of the boy, and to us it appears perfectly unaccount--1 able,that such heathen darkness should be ' permitted to exist, and to exist too, at no 1 great distance from this capital. This poor, boy affords a striking illustration of the ■ sordid feeling which too frequently prevails ; among a certain class of our settlers, who appear to rest perfectly satisfied by using ■ their children like horses or bullocks. ' Here has this poor boy been worked on the 1 farm since he has been able to hold a. whip or handle a spade, without the least consideration for his moral or .intellectual 1 improvement, and great blame, we must 1 say, attaches to the father thus neglecting his offspring. It is. very little ; use. to,, provide., schools and teachers, ;if those.(who most require them will not avail themselves of the. advantages ; within their reach.-— Launceston Paper. A Cracked Oommandment.—We 'heacd! a ; suggestive expression related the other day \ of a very little girl, who was taken by her i mother into a : shop where a tempting basket of oranges stood exposed for, sale* her mother, was engaged in another part of the .room.> the little, one feasted'her eyes on, ■■the fruit, and nursed the.temptation in her hearttill it grew too strong :to be resisted, and she;ind one of the oranges under'her apron, ;and walked quickly away. But cdnsde'nce'''itemp(nstr*ted-'ißovßtrlon^ly'-that,----"/after a little reflection^ she walisedas quickly back, and as slyly replaced ,the ' ( 6rwgo in the basket. J Again the forbidden' foujt; ,G,u,t , of possession, presented its teraptipg • sidej and, again, she, yielded,'\ After: a /sharper; conflict than before,.. conscience • gained ,a! second victory, and tHe ; almost ] stolen.orange was again taken and finally restored, a; With; a maddened. ; she walked s home with.&er .mother, i when they ;were; alone, burst-ypJiO tears, exclafeiing, >'Oh,'-mother, I craeke4 Me of the Conimaiidmeiits 1 I didn't break it-Hp- ■{ , deed I dwk'-t.break it, mother-4C[uite—but I'm sure t^aM^^'^^^^anpa^. ; , V Ol4- :^ady:. 'f Oh,. y,Q$ jijad J?py! : whpre: i did you.get all that, ,hp%j.^om^;.. J}on'ti you know that your .cateehisWi^PlQ^ yput to keep your hands f roni picking ..and Meglr,,, ingi"—Boyr/Yes, 'm^.and: 'yarV.tongue! ■ from'; evil' speakin', lyjn V and slandering,' i .An!epter,pr,isingfurrier "respectfully an-' nounces ic|,,lidies who- wisK. genuine fuxC ,;satha»ma^^ 1:-. ,v: . --, . ;.y y..:-:>ivi ,/,'/ _' - ■■,