The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-09-04 00:00:00

Ttllttn 4, 1855.] SUPPLEMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. I; i le vo r gt l e e , d rta r d e ful t o A I. the edin y te g !ake off the hat in the high to anybody that courted it, Fentleman " satisfaction " if he was squint ; for Wilkes was as brave ~pretlg'ett-hearted. He was an odd kind of ki:b d , 41 11 n that had strayed into the Ward sikiiia‘inod lyithout ; and he ultimately mystified "of Ple asure Ve ; for he was really of no party, this and a fine coat. The best thing t l .O 11 1 S. love of his daughters; just as the th e i r 'prig in the French is their walking about ice families on the Boulevards, after all the ernotasild,volatility of their insurrections.— The 4,,, 4 42'6, l it 't4'B R E ei h i l, life and writings an ardent regard for I §. l4 ,ll,t., e rests of re li g i on, he was at the same In th,l leV er in r eve l at i on. He was too deeply Ipi r i r, f 'o Script ures, and too much imbued with t ne wss Judge harshly of o th er men who took li p s p r h l °' them f rom hi s own. He cherished 4 t o ex "le of religious toleration, and never kihi est l 3 , l ess his abhorrence of persecution, even L lt ed t _ Lorin. I mmorality and impiety he never iTloouse pass unreproved. When Vigani told tati oe; step' about a nun," he gave up his i k ? • clisr all ' w hen Dr. Halle ventured to say ;,_ spectful to religion, he invariably ili,"'ul with th L Yon h e remark " I have studied these ,'beasts' a : v os e ri° t." He' considered cruelty to 1S hiS tend, a violation of Christian morality ; rness P ti lt! not toler a t e the .or the lower creation, that I l b i, When m r. ~, sports,. of hunting or shooting 1 4 4 3 of on e of • o `.' u llauitt one day was speaking Oeetion 0 n..,:_ Sir Isaac's nephews, he urged it k, ••si,, A 5..,1.n5t him, " That he loved killing of :"Alq o-lor_reicster's Iffe of _Newton. Lte )1 , 1 ,..... -1\ S TANCY.—A Turkish gentleman of s e , ',lied a sweet young creature, midway kt u n en ,leen and eighteen. He had no other ' l 44 l lek. The lady had not before had a ,l e 48 1 ,she usually will, in this case, if th e 't a a "Ind one, she resolved to love him. He ' i,ll),a.rticularly fond spouse i but he was as „ft'ih,. husbands generally go. He was not V,. little the reverse. But the young e ' a lat to love him ; and love him she *did. tae, e r e marriage, business called him away 41 vire e l eft it, without laying any injunction k il l more than she had always to obey whilst 4 . l '...thre. She could go out when she liked ; Itlti g ti 'j with her as usual. But so fearful was t e 4 g that, in her husband's absence, she )11 ,orti'Pted, even for a moment, to turn her rjP3) Earths er man, that she made a resolution lord than her harem and the garden ,9 keteturned. This promise to herself she 'tp, Pt, though her husband was absent Iq hi s ea l _ , ts • When he came back he was in s p re l'a se Yt's affection, and, in the ec . stacy, of kC-100 and l 'ied her a stomacher of diamonds li f 4 ll o 'ir e killed twelve bullocks and twenty e '/I rin g to Allah, for giving him so faith t A bs e v it.'Y of the Crescent. ‘, L v. k l / 4 ,,, i „ . isrr TO THE CRIMEA..—One of the 17 k ttr a sto thi spot, Lady Craven, after 10q . vin e of 8 2 , .>`. Tl, Anspach, thus wrote respecting Icillittlere Count Wynowitch commands here, to J et s at Inkerman, which must once t t tOp ' l, 4l e bi °ll siderable and extraordinary town. [;,of ;:i, li cL g r emains of it are rooms . hewn out ~,`' s li ' d k 4 th a , e 18 a large chapel, the pillars and k i 91 4 ; ' l ot aextremely curious ; the stone is ts ` t ept , - .' 4 , l ce marble. I climbed up a stair it4ilt,,! am ~,1 40 and out. of very extraordinary ),, t:,%liit:X4raodious. I entered at the bot ri'ittler: oat 7, habitations, and, like a chimney ' 4 0 V i llile „ 7 " the top ; and though it cost me I k e' a bo ut of c turning and climbing up so high, F la ke /ae, t a t 'itig mounted so much, till, on ' l 4ii i N, ali a „Lurned quite giddy on seeing phe t4(l 1 'he pig` i all the Black Sea at least 250 '4Atly 7ae Where I stood." Lady Cra . yen l lt tt ,f a b pa. , ° _ the capabilities of the adjoining itti a * . "F*. o (l when no Sebastopol existed on loNt l 4liL t °4l the singularity of the coast, the Isi:ed h ke any other I ever saw. It is a long V I the Black Sea between two ridges of Ilt i th at h ' Ps ill thet Glor navy,atherine,' one of the u Russian which is at anchor dant. The water is so deep that this ship touches the here, cannot be seen, as the shore is above the pen land. All the fleets of Europe would be safe from storms or enemies in these creeks or harbours, for there are many. Batteries at the entrance of them on one side would be sufficient effectually to destroy any ships that would venture in, and placed towards the sea, must even prevent the entrance of a fleet.— The Crimea, liy the Rev. T. _Milner. THE TOWER OF LONDON.---Every inch of the Tower Wall is tied to a story---is an evidence in his tory. Hits Roman connexion be fabulous, here, at all events, was a Saxon stronghold, and here is a Norman castle. At sight of these architecturally much-abused walls what names and recolleotions rise This palace, prison, and fortress, " the very germ of London," as Charles Knight calls it, is, in truth, the early hiatory of England, written on stone, and interspersed, may we say, with many " cuts on wood." Visitors should not forget Traitors' Gate--- -" that gate mis-named, through which before Went Sidney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More ;" or the little church of St. Peter ad Vincula, where lies Anne Boleyn with many other noble sufferers ; or the Beauchamp Tower, with its singularly interesting re cords of some who where imprisoned there, cut in the stone walls. This latter will be seen on the west side of the open space beside the keep, or what used to be called " the Green beside the Chapel within the Tower," and is now the officers' mess-room. To view this, per mission must be obtained, but this will not be fouud difficult. Many of the inscriptions are full of interest, none more so to us than the simple word " Jane," which if not written by the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey her self, probably was by her husband, Guildford. The present mess-master is apt and obliging in describing the most important of these "trivial fond records ;" but he is in error in pointinc , out the date to the inscrip tion signed William Tyrrell," as " 1241, the earliest inscription here." It is 1541. MY FIRST BRIEF, AND How I GOT IL—The day before our return to town, my friend had a party of Dublin acquaintances at his house ; among the guests were the late Mr. D--, an old attorney in consider able business, and his daughter. In the evening, though it was summer time, we had a dance. I led out to Miss D— : I did so, I seriously declare, without the slightest view to the important consequences that ensued. After the dance, which (I remember it well) was to the favourite and far-famed " Leg-of-Mutton jig," I took my partner aside, in the usual way, to entertain her. I began by asking if " she was not fond of poetry ? She demanded, " why I asked the question ?" I said, "because I thought I could per ceive it in the expression of her eyes." She blushed, " protested I must be flattering her, but admitted that she was." I then asked, "if she did not think the Corsair' a charming poem ?" She answered, " Oh, yes !" "And would not not she like to be living in one of the Grecian islands ?" " Oh, indeed, she would,"—" looking upon the blue waters of the Archi pelago, and the setting sun." " How delightful it would be," exclaimed she. "And so refreshing," said I. I thus continued, till we were summoned to another set. She separated from me with reluctance, for I could see that she considered my conversation to be the sublimest thing that could be. The effect of the impression I had made soon appeared. Two days after I received a brief in rather an important case from her father's office. I acquitted myself so much to his satisfaction, that he sent me another, and another, and finally installed me as one of his standing counsel for the junior business of his office. The opportuni ties thus afforded me brought me by degrees into notice. In the course of time general business began to drop in upon me, and has latterly been increased into such a steady stream, that I am now inclined to look upon my final success as secure.—Sketches of the Irish Bar, by William Henry Curran, Esq. SARAH SIDDONS.—North : Sarah was a glorious creature. Methinks I see her now in the sleep-walk ing scene !—Shepherd : As Leddy Macbeth ! Her gran' high straicht-nosed face, whiter than ashes ! Fixed een, no like the een o' the dead, yet hardly mair like theni o' the leevin ; dim, and yet licht wi' an ob scure lustre througci which the tormented sowl looked in the chains o' sleep and dreams wi' a' the distraction o' remorse and despair,—and oh ! sic an expanse o' forhead for a warld o' dreadfu' thochts, aneath the braided blackness o' her hair, that had nevertheless been put up wi' a steady and nae uncarefu' haun be fore the troubled Leddy had lain doun, for it behoved ane so high-born as she, in the middle o' her ruefu' trouble, no to neglect what she owed to her stately beauty, and to the head that lay on the couch o' ane o' Scotland's Thanes—noo, likewise about to be, during the short space o' the passing o' a thunder-cloud, her bluidy and usurping King.—North : Whisht—Tick : ler—whisht—no coughing. Shepherd : Onwards she used to come—no Sarah Siddons—but just Leddy Macbeth hersel—through that melancholy masquerade o' passion, the spectator aye had a confused glimmerin apprehension o' the great actress—gliding wi' the ghostlike motion o' nicht-wanderin unrest, unconscious o' surroundin objects,—for oh ! how could the glazed, yet gleamin een, see aught in this material warld P— yet, by some mysterious power o' instinct, never touchin ane o' the impediments that the furniture co )- the auld castle micht hae opposed to her haunted foot steps, —on she came, wring, wringin her halms, as if washin them in the cleansin dews frae the blouts o' blood,—but wae's me for the murderess, out they wad no be, ony mair than the stains on the spat o' the floor where some midnicht-slain Christian has groaned out his soul aneath the dagger's stroke, when the sleepin hoose heard not the shriek o' departing life.—Tickler: North, look at James's face. Confound me, under the inspiration of the moment, if it is not like John Kemble's !—Shepherd : Whether a' this, sirs, was natural or not, ye see I dinna ken, because I never beheld ony woman, either gentle or semple, walkin in her sleep after having committed murder. But,Lord safe us ! that hollow, broken-hearted voice, " Out, damned spot," was o' itsel aneuch to tell to a' that heard it, that crimes done in the flesh during time will needs be punished in the spirit during eternity, It was a dreadfu' homily yon, sirs ; and wha that saw't would ever ask whether tragedy or the stage was moral, purging the soul, as she did, wi' pity and wi' terror ?--- Wilson's Noctes Ambrosiance, vol. i. NATURAL HISTORY.—It is very well and seemly to see how all our naturalists of these days unite in giving God thanks for the plenitude and magnificence of all his works—how it is this overflowing superabundance —the wonderful wealth which he dispenses in every corner of his vast dominions—that is the burden of almost every voice. While this spirit continues, there can be no pursuit more suitable to human minds than that of natural history ; and to see the pains which God has taken with the minutest morsels of life. is enough, if we consider it, to make us a great deal more wary of our performances, and to take care of putting nothing bad or unlovely out of our hands. Like those honest old craftsmen of the elder times who elaborated every unseen corner, and giddy, unbeholdable pinnacle, we had need to do everything well and honestly—this whole money-making hasty race of ours—if we would imitate in the faintest fashion the works of God. Notwithstanding all this, natural history is very often sowewhat of a bore. One cannot take up a cheap publication—a magazine or journal for " the people," but there is a coarse woodcut of some uncouth brute or other, and biography of the same ; and our learned brethren are but too apt to suppose that we, who are not very much enamoured of beasts, either in real life ar in fossils, are very poor ignoramuses indeed, and scarcely worth being cultivated. We object to this, we decidedly object, where we buy a picture paper at the railway station, to have a walrus or a crocodile inevitably thrust upon us. Science is good, but science has its drawbacks. That dreadful society for the diffusion of useful knowledge, which once filled every cheap publication with elaborate descriptions of every manufacturing process, has happily intermitted its well intentioned labours ; and of the two, perhaps we will conclude to prefer the ingenuity of insects to the in genuity of cotton factories. But life has things as important.. We do not want to know how everything is made, and we do not care for a very intimate ac quaintance with the great ant-eater or the hippopo tamus, important as their pretensions are.—Black wood's Magazine. CIVILITY.—It is an easy thing to be civil, and although, in the language of the old proverb, "fine words butter no parsnips," they frequently nay, almost invariably, have a kindly effect, and influence the mind as well as the heart. Nevertheless, there are certain persons who go through the world as if de termined never to utter a civil phrase, never to do a civil turn. They are naturally rough, harsh, peevish, and dissatisfied, and even when appealed to in matters l-