VALUABLE RELIC of the late DUKE of
WELLINGTON.—A lady, having in her possession a
quantity of the late illustrious DUKE'S HAIR, cut in 1841, is
willing to PART WITH a portion of the same for £25.
Satisfactory proof will be given of its identity, and of how
it came into the owner's possession, on application by letter,
pre-paid.

RELIC of the DUKE of WELLINGTON for
SALE.—The son of the late well-known haircutter to
his Grace the late Duke of Wellington, at Strathfieldsaye,
has a small quantity of HAIR, that his father cut from the
Duke's head, which he is willing to DISPOSE OF. Any
one desirous of possessing such a relic of England's
hero are requested to make their offer for the same, by
letter.

RELICS of the late DUKE of WELLINGTON.—
For SALE, a WAISTCOAT, in good preservation,
worn by his Grace some years back, which can be well
authenticated as such.

Next, a very choice article—quite unique—
the value of which may be presumed to be
considerably enhanced by the conclusive
impossibility of its being doubted in the least
degree by the most suspicious mind.

A MEMENTO of the DUKE of WELLINGTON.—
La Mort de Napoleon, Ode d'Alexandre Manzoni, avec
la Traduction en Français, par Edmond Angelini, de
Venise.—A book, of which the above is the title, was torn
up by the Duke and thrown by him from the carriage, in
which he was riding, as he was passing through Kent: the
pieces of the book were collected and put together by a
person who saw the Duke tear it and throw the same away.
Any person desirous of obtaining the above memento will
be communicated with.

Finally, a literary production of astonishing
brilliancy and spirit; without which,
we are authorized to state, no nobleman's
or gentleman's library can be considered
complete.

DUKE of WELLINGTON and SIR R. PEEL.—
A talented, interesting, and valuable WORK, on
Political Economy and Free Trade, was published in 1830,
and immediately bought up by the above statesmen, except
one copy, which is now for DISPOSAL. Apply by letter
only.

Here, for the reader's sake, we terminate
our quotations. They might easily have been
extended through the whole of the present
number of this Journal.

We believe that a State Funeral at this time
of day—apart from the mischievously
confusing effect it has on the general mind, as to
the necessary union of funeral expense and
pomp with funeral respect, and the consequent
injury it may do to the cause of a great reform
most necessary for the benefit of all classes of
society—is, in itself, so plainly a pretence of
being what it is not: is so unreal, such a
substitution of the form for the substance:
is so cut and dried, and stale: is such a
palpably got up theatrical trick: that it puts
the dread solemnity of death to flight, and
encourages these shameless traders in their
dealings on the very coffin-lid of departed
greatness. That private letters and other
memorials of the great Duke of Wellington
would still have been advertised and sold,
though he had been laid in his grave amid
the silent respect of the whole country with
the simple honors of a military commander,
we do not doubt; but that, in that case, the
traders would have been discouraged from
holding anything like this Public Fair and
Great Undertakers' Jubilee over his remains,
we doubt as little. It is idle to attempt to
connect the frippery of the Lord Chamberlain's
Office and the Herald's College, with the
awful passing away of that vain shadow in
which man walketh and disquieteth himself
in vain. There is a great gulf set between
the two which is set there by no mortal
hands, and cannot by mortal hands be
bridged across. Does any one believe that,
otherwise, "the Senate" would have been
"mourning its hero" (in the likeness of a
French Field-Marshal) on Tuesday evening,
and that the same Senate would have been
in fits of laughter with Mr. Hume on
Wednesday afternoon when the same hero was
still in question and unburied?

The mechanical exigencies of this journal
render it necessary for these remarks to be
written on the evening of the State Funeral.
We have already indicated in these pages
that we consider the State Funeral a mistake,
and we hope temperately to leave the question
here for temperate consideration. It is
easy to imagine how it may have done much
harm, and it is hard to imagine how it can
have done any good. It is only harder to
suppose that it can have afforded a grain of
satisfaction to the immediate descendants of
the great Duke of Wellington, or that it can
reflect the faintest ray of lustre on so bright
a name. If it were assumed that such a
ceremonial was the general desire of the English
people, we would reply that that assumption
was founded on a misconception of the
popular character, and on a low estimate of
the general sense; and that the sooner both
were better appreciated in high places, the
better it could not fail to be for us all.
Taking for granted at this writing, what we
hope may be assumed without any violence
to the truth; namely, that the ceremonial was
in all respects well conducted, and that the
English people sustained throughout, the high
character they have nobly earned, to the shame
of their silly detractors among their own
countrymen; we must yet express our hope
that State Funerals in this land went down
to their tomb, most fitly, in the tasteless and
tawdry Car that nodded and shook through
the streets of London on the eighteenth of
November, eighteen hundred and fifty-two.
And sure we are, with large consideration for
opposite opinions, that when History shall rescue
that very ugly machine—worthy to pass
under decorated Temple Bar, as decorated
Temple Bar was worthy to receive it—from the
merciful shadows of obscurity, she will reflect
with amazement—remembering his true,
manly, modest, self-contained, and genuine
character—that the man who, in making it
the last monster of its race, rendered his last