was wholly unknown in the ordinary Courts, both in this country and in Ireland, and he (Sir G. Grey) believed it did not exist in any other of the metropolitan police courts. Mr Combe had accordingly been informed that the practice should be forthwith discontinued at the Clerkenwell Court.

BIRTHS.

On the 26th of April, at Brixton-rise, the wife of FREDERICK CAPES, of a son.

Esg

On the 3rd of May, at 29, Sussex-place, Kensington, the wife of JOHN WOOLLETT, Esq., barrister-at-law, of a daughter.

On the 7th of May, at Ince Blundell-hall, Lancashire, the lady of THOS. WELD BLUNDELL, Esq., of a daughter.

On the 12th of May, the Lady of the CHEVALIER DE ZULUETA, of a

son.

MARRIAGES.

On the 23rd of April, at Oporow, in the Grand Duchy of Posen, CHAS. DE LA BARRE BODENHAM, only son of Charles Thomas Bodenham, Esq., of Rotherwas, Herefordshire, to IRENA, third daughter of Count Morowski, of Oporow, formerly Prime Minister to the King of Saxony.

On the 7th of May, at Florence, at the British Legation, by the Rev. G. Robins, and, on the following day, by the Archbishop of Florence, GUIDO, Marquis Mannelli Riccardi, to CHRISTINE, third daughter of the late William Reader, Esq. of Banghurst-house, Hants.

On the 8th of May, at St. Patrick's Chapel, by the Rev. Thomas Long, Mr. HOLLAND TAYLOR, of Manchester, to CHARLOTTE, second daughter of the late Mr. Thomas Herbert, of Great Russell-street, Bloomsburysquare.

On the 14th of May, at St. George's Church, Southwark, by the Rev. James Danell, and afterwards at St. Giles's, Camberwell, by the Rev. Charles Howes, R. T. DUARTE, Esq., of Liverpool, to LOUISA, youngest daughter of the late Henry Withington, Esq., of Pendleton.

On the 16th instant, at St. George's Catholic Church, Southwark, by the Rev. Mr. Cotter, and at St. James's, Sussex-gardens, Hyde-park, FREDERICK RANDALL, Esq., of Highbury, to DAME SARAH BLENNERHASSETT, relict of the late Sir Arthur Blennerhasset, of Churchtown, county of Kerry, Bart.

DEATHS.

On the 20th of April, the Rev. J. KIRK, for many years Procurator of Ushaw College.

On the 4th of May, at the residence of his father, at Grenagh, the Rev. CORNELIUS HORGAN, M.C.C., aged 36.

On the 4th of May, at his residence, George-street, Portman-square, MATTHEW D'ARCY TALBOT, Esq., aged 63.

On the 9th of May, at 13, Garnault-place, Clerkenwell, the Rev. PATRICK M'CLEAN, of Rosoman-street; a man of exemplary piety and benevolence, and loved and respected by all who knew him.

On the 9th of May, at his residence, Oxford-street, Liverpool, JOHN LUPTON, Esq., in his 79th year.

How often the affectionate entreaties of friends come pleasantly to second our own wishes! So it was with me; the winter months passed in planning a visit to America; and, with true. woman's fears, in changing my mind with the alternate changes from rough to calm, from wet to dry weather. But early spring found me resolved to cross the Atlantic for the third time, and to take a glimpse of the happiness of dearly loved relatives enjoying the cheering prosperity of prosperous New York. In the bright sunshine of a March forenoon, I went on board a splendid packet-ship bound from a southern port in Ireland to Baltimore. Our accommodations as cabin passengers were really excellent. I could not help wishing that the poor emigrants who crowded the steerage could have even one-fourth of the comforts that surrounded us. Poor creatures! how many among them are leaving the old country with aching hearts and yet sanguine hopes, their little all scraped together to take them to the land of plenty! Good byes are soon said, and the captain and pilot come on board, and all is bustle preparing for immediate departure. From our deck, we perceive some commotion going on amongst the emigrants. One of our fellow passengers is a regular Paul Pry, and finds out that there are policemen and bailiffs on board, who are actively searching for two men supposed to be running off with money of their employer. Their search was unavailing, and they applied to the captain for his interference. He neither knowing nor caring for the merits of the case, coolly replied "Stop till the anchor is up, and the topsail set: I am too busy now." The ship being instantly put under weigh, the policemen were obliged to retreat,

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and were saluted by a general shout of laughter from the emigrants as they clambered into their boat. I shall not discuss the justice of the feeling which made some amongst us not regret the poor men's escape, for they were actually secreted on board. Short as had been our dwelling on the bosom of old ocean, we had imbibed an idea of our liberty which this search seemed to affect!

And now we are off with a steady breeze filling our topsails; we pace the deck in high spirits, free from all fear of channel fogs; we admire the bold headlands, the waves now breaking on the steep rocks at their base, and now throwing up showers of dazzling spray. And how the emigrants cluster to the ship's side to gaze eagerly on the loved Isle they are leaving for ever! Sickness has yet affected few amongst them: and the bonnets and caps in their particularly showy fresh trimmings, and the gay looking plaid cloaks, for which the young girls have given up the homely serviceable country cloak of stout cloth, are still uninjured. What a different picture they will present when they land in their new home!

The twilight is deepening around us, and the land is gradually fading away. The wind, too, is freshening and whistles aloft among the ship's tackling. But loud above the noises of the wind or the seething waters around us, rises the farewell of the emigrants; three or four manly voices first take up a mournful chaunt; it is to a familiar old Irish melody; their many voices join, and the harmony spreads o'er the waters—they raise a cheer-I hope I shall never hear such another-so strong in its love for the land they are leaving, so saddening! At that hour, there seemed no hope in its wailing sound; but it told to my ears of years of misery, as it rose in the evening air. All night that sorrowful adieu was in my ears; and yet I looked next morning in vain for sad faces among the emigrants. The day was bright and warm, and we sailed with a favouring breeze, and all appeared hope and content. The third day at sea opens upon us with still fair weather. We cabin passengers look on each other now as quite old acquaintances; we have a young poet with abundance of talent and a superabundance of romance amongst us; he is going out as a settler to a flourishing Western city of the States; but he owns to have left his heart behind him in the guardianship of a pair of lovely blue eyes.

In the afternoon, all the steerage passengers, amounting to 158, were ordered on deck, and their berths below were examined, the captain expecting to find 12 or 15" stowaways." "What is a stowaway?" I asked: he pointed to a very fine-looking sailor, and told me that he had been a stowaway; that when he had

been five days at sea from Liverpool, a sailor had heard some one cough among the cargo. "Who is there?" asked he. "I'm a stowaway," was the reply; and there, regularly packed up in a flour barrel, was a fine stout boy. "I liked his independent look," said the captain, " so I gave him his passage to America. He has remained with me ever since, and I find him a most useful sailor."

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When all the emigrants were on deck, their names were called separately; and as each showed their receipts, they were let down. At length the deck was cleared to about six. These were stowaways. A very fat woman with three children the captain most kindly sent down at once; and then came a most miserably squalid man, looking indeed as if he had eaten nothing since he came on board, and not enough for a very long time before. The captain walked away and left him to the mate. So you are a stowaway," said he. "I am, that's true for you," answered the poor man. "Well, prepare to die like a man," said the mate, "for you shall be hanged." "There's not much left me that's worth living for, anyway," replied the stowaway. "I had no money, nor no one to pay my passage. I couldn't live in the poor-house, into which my poor wife and children had to go." The mate had prepared a rope, tried it on himself, then had the poor man's eyes bandaged. He seemed too much stunned to utter a word. The rope was put over his head, but carefully slipped under his arms; the mate gave the word, and away went the poor fellow to the top mast, amidst the loud laughter of the sailors. I thought the joke far too strong. He was immediately brought down, and stood on deck. "Well, instead of being hanged you shall marry that fat lady stowaway," said the mate. "Marry her!" exclaimed Paddy, with a comical look; "sure I'm no Turk, that I'd have two wives. What would I do with Biddy and the childer ?" "Don't you mind Biddy," replied the mate; and he called up the fat woman; dressed himself something like a parson; and read a mock ceremony, joining their hands together, notwithstanding the violent resistance the bride offered. Paddy took the whole in good humour, which was not lost upon the mate, who made a collection among the crew for him and generously gave it all to the poor fellow. We were told that he fared right well among his countrymen, and that he made himself actively useful, and that his bride being dreadfully ill during the passage, he took the greatest care of her helpless children.

The monotony of a life at sea must be felt to be understood. The 17th, St. Patrick's, our national fête, should be of course

stormy, and so it was; but now and then above the gale rose the sound of song from the emigrants. They were trying to keep their festival, poor creatures. Towards evening we sat on deck, as the wind lulled, and we had our music, for several amongst us sang prettily. sang prettily. Our first Sunday on sea shone in summer brightness, and we were all early on deck, enjoying a delicious breeze, which we would have greatly preferred had it come from the glorious east, instead of west by south. No one that has not made a long passage in a sailing vessel can fully understand how the changes of the wind change our looks, so anxiously do we all speak of them and give each other entire sympathy. Our steerage passengers were all in holiday attire, doing honour to the Sabbath, and after their morning meal I saw numbers of them kneeling, some with prayer books, some without, all apparently praying with deep fervour to the "Lord of all."

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The night that followed that glorious day was indeed awful; even our stolid American captain owned that it was A very considerable storm." For a time the vessel was allowed to go with the wind for the purpose of taking down the sails. Oh! the terrors of that long, long night. When daylight appeared it was such a relief! Two rough days followed, and the captain comforted us by saying, "We have made great way, being more than one-third of the passage."

What trifling incidents interest in the monotony of a sea life! A newly discovered romance among our poor emigrants has created quite a sensation. There is a "happy couple" who were made one some days before we left Ireland. The bride is elderly and plain, but having a good fortune, the bridegroom, a very handsome young man, chose her as his wife, and with her money they are enabled to emigrate. Though still in the month of honey, he so far exerted his conjugal authority as to beat her cruelly last night. The mate separated them, and declared the bridegroom should be instantly put into irons, when the poor wife rushed forward, threw herself on her knees, saying, as she wept bitterly, "Oh! sir, pray don't hurt poor James; he'll never do it again, I'm sure:" and the romance of the tale is, that he was converted, and tried his best to make his wife happy. Another stowaway was found; a baby was born in the steerage to a life of hardship; and another far more fortunate baby died, and was buried in the deep sea, to the heart-rending grief of a wretched-looking mother: such are my entries in this day's diary.

On fine days, we sit on deck and read and work, and in the evenings we have music. Then most glorious is a fine sunset at sea; then the bright stars succeed so rapidly, and above them