The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-07-10 00:00:00

SUPPLEMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STAN ~/! \,_4lltv o, 1-855'3 P Ijen6h commission had been,sent to exa flol„`PLoti Y mound, and excavations were made in ` t 'll4l: 74 'e a sult but after the French commis 'le enterprise, it was resumed who succeeded in extracting inscriptions on which it ap =ple t© the seven spheres, lout 400 years • before Nebu restored by that king. Colonel inscriptions contained on the tended to-reconeile the discre lc historians and Ithe Bible izzar. The namcof Blshazzar Greek historians, , the Baby hy Cyrus being called by them pears from some of the exca ' :Belshazzar was .the eldest and that he most probably his father. One of theremark- Thnel Rawlinson was it large engraved with mathematical .equire a powerful lens to dis conjectured that the engraver by a lens in working on so experience gained by Colonel researches enabled him to ase.er • in which the cylinders having (posited in the temples, and under him attributed this Id the needle compass he con = as a talisman, so that when Bagdad he was besieged by . where lost property was to though it only noticed some tts of the discoveries made .unintermitting investigation, `heir great importance ; and increases the anxiety to see Irks of the ancient Chaldeans Colonel Itawlinson displayed BOREDOM is an intensely respectable dull. When we reflect, in ;isfaction one generally has in the `hose assemblages called dinner ight be wondered why people We suppose they feel that and meet they do accord ficiency in the national genius . , as yet to make these meet i ngs knowledge the leaden pres- Awes, which pervades more or attend, but all alike seem help ^ement. We go on suffering and possibly shall do while stability is what it is. ;vely simple affair, the morn how much stupidity besets people's houses, nine times may not be at home; or if ad ; drawing-room, just for ten hour—merely to go through ;me with their friends. In among acquaintances is the our England. We must be 'e we relax from the glacial ) ourselves to maintain. We idly ; we are afraid of being our neighbours ; partly we res. Pride, or what they call she water, makes us reserved ing lest we should be thought the complexion of arrogance, er, dreading lest the blessing on ground socially uncon careful of the respectability told even the most casual of the Oxford man, who re 'er to save a drowning.cora hou tt he had never been mtro o, - ‘, l palpable exaggeration, has it t l l4 l , ti l l t ,l : 4 We are, undoubtedly, more 10 4 , 8 w ilici i . 'mAx tai humanity; we are more con ,`"-this ttv aa. : more formal than real ; and cry reve r : ll M f: our whole social system like of 1,,,,, 41 ‘ of ourselves, which, indeed, -4 pride, mixed in with that a 4 0 0 , 1 3 b o j e, , baneful arrogance which makes us shrink from our fellow-men, as either too high, or too low, for our no tice. True pride and real dignity equalise all men by right of their common humanity : our social pride is only a make-believe, after all ! The French fashion of setting one day apart for morning visits, and of thus doing penance pleasantly and becomingly, is a fashion worth considering. In Paris—in all French towns, in fact, where there is any society at all—on a certain day in the week, perhaps it may be only once a fortnight, the lady of the house is "at home." She dresses herself in her most fascinating toilet, arranges her bouquets and her vases, takes up a piece of gorgeous work, and sits in pretty state, waiting for her visitors. All the world— her world at least—arrives. Ladies in elegant dresses, gentlemen well got-up, "palfaitement bien vases," nay, even little children, smart and gay—for the French live much more with their little children than we do—flock to the house. All are sprightly as a crowd of painted parroquets, and about as noisy ; pleased with themselves and all the world, chattilng with their hostess and with each other—for abroad, visitors meeting under the same roof speak without introduction. Each person on the visiting-list of a responsible person being assumed to be respectable, unless proved the reverse---in England it is exactly the contrary---all enjoy themselves more during that social scourge of ours---the morning call---than we do in our finest evening parties. In fact, it is a party in bonnets instead of in wreaths. Now, is not this a more amusing, and so far a more rational, way of seeing one's friends than ours ? Society is here a business ; there a pleasure. Does not this explain much of the difference between us ? But morning-calls are not the only social forms in which we are beaten hollow by our allies. They under stand society in all its forms better than we do, and carry the art to the highest point of perfection. As a rule, they seldom give dinner-parties. The rich who do, manage in this as in their soirees, and "at homes." Their dinners are mostly general invitations to - a select few, once a week, or once a fortnight, as the case may be. Of course, we do not mean to say that they never give dinner-parties by private and exceptional invita tion as we do, but the proportion to ours and to their soirees is very small. They thus get rid of expense, and oftentimes of dulness, in favour of their easy, simple, brilliant, animated evenings, which have more life and less luxury in them than we can imagine, unless we have seen them for ourselves. Their soirees are delicious. There is an ease about their tone, a want of formality and stiffness, that gives them a won derful charm, especially when we have been bored into mental atrophy by the starch and buckram of our own drawing-rooms. People come in every kind of toilet, at least to the weekly evenings, where there is nothing special going on : if there is, special requests are made, and special rules of costume observed. Some are in quiet morning -dresses—quiet, but so graceful !—and others in brilliant ball-dresses, or in opera-costumes, calling in here on their way to gayer places, fluttering in like beautiful butterflies, as bright and as fleeting, just to have a pleasant chat of a few minutes, and then off to their grander entertainment. But they make a t , sensation, our finely-plumed visitors ; and who does not appreciate the luxury of that In fact, the weekly soirees of most French houses are merely visits trans ferred to the evening instead of the morning, as their morning -calls are parties held by daylight instead of waxlight. It is a pleasant mode of seeing one's friends alto gether. It costs little, and that is of consequence, since it happens frequently. A little tea, and a few more lights, make up the sum of the expenses to the host ; and the economical who visit him—or rather her, for madame is chief and ruler chez elk—may walk if they will, and if they live near enough ; or come in omnibusses, if they will, and the correspandance suits ; or do anything else they will in the way of simplicity and economy—wisely thinking that society is to be an amusement, not an inconvenience, and that because a man goes among his friends he need not, as a natural consequence, go into the insolvent's court as well. With us, society is much too expensive. It is a com mon remark, that a man may live well enough on such and such an income, "if he keeps no society." In France, on the contrary, the poorest may see their monde; and they do : for their monde go to them for pleasure, not for luxury ; and pleasure means gaiety even in simplicity, and not expensive dulness. IARD. As for balls, there is no national contrast in them— they are much the same in both countries; with this difference, that they dance oftener in France than in England. Frequently a dance is got up in those simple weekly soirees we have been speaking of ; and there is so much artistic education in France, that you always find one or more in the room able to take the orchestra, able to play with goo d accen t uat i on, and in perfect time—the two necessaries of dance music. So there is no expense of a band ; no expense of suppers, excepting when the ball is a grand affair— the house event of the season: but in general, alittle tea and negus, and syrup and water, with a fet bis cuits, are found quite sufficient for refreshments. In England, the smallest "carpet dance" is a great ex pense in refreshments only; not to speak of the wear and tear of temper, and time and trouble, the up setting of the house, and the revolutionising of society, that follow as nat ura l consequences. But really we think people might move about a room quickly, and in certain patterns, without causing a family fever ! In fact, we want simplicity in our society, as we want ease in our manners. We are so formal, and yet so fussy—so expensive, and yet so dull, that " society " hangs like a dead-weight round the neck of every householder. We are all bored ;we are all borers.; and none will try to introduce reforms in this over powering mass of Boredom, everybody contenting himself with looking on in grim objection, and think ing his recorded protest all the work he has to do. Let us have society, by all means---plenty of it. It is good to see our fellow-creatures often and pleasantly ; but why must we always eat -in company, like cows and sheep ? Why can't we meet for love, not luxury ; for pleasure, not show_; for happiness, not ruin ? Why must we make a feask when Jones, Brown, and Robinson, who dine on mutton-chops at home---as we ourselves do---come and dine with us instead ? Why can't Jones, Brown, and Robinson eat mutton-chops at our house as well as at their own? And why should we try to make them believe that our general diet is turtle and venison ? These are vital questions, worth considering and worth answering. We are too expensive and too stiff in all our social life. The conditions of our society are buckramed and bedizened out of all shape of nature' and all power of attainment by people of middling fortunes. We will not speak to those we know perfectly well by sight, name, and reputation, without a formal introduction ; and we speak to those to whom we have had a formal introduction, as if our minds were stiffened into mere dictionary columns, without a single thought or feeling in them ; we see our friends only under circumstances of relative pomp, and parade, and expense, and eschew as mean all simplicity and modesty. Well, all this is very unwise. We might do better. -We might take a lesson from our neighbours in the whole art and. management of society, and we would be much better off for it ; for if we could once unstrap that, buckram belt round our hearts when in the world, and once see the beauty of naturalness in manner, .and of simplicity in life, we would never go back to the old ways of reserve and luxury, but would laugh when we wanted to laugh, and speak to any of our same circle we wished to speak to, without fear of compromise to ourselves or of repulse from them ; and we would see our friends without parade, and enjoy the pleasure of social inter course without fuss, expense, or pomp.--- Chambers. 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" ( I , d E,r: Ic.t, . 014. 1 ,,,,,,,, reading 4 . ) / at SlaY,q Pride, of 1 0 ,11,1 1 c 4 qe(l,` - ' l ,h7 L t ile other I`it it liq o r - -could fall I'e) . i co ti th w e r , N e , v v h o are so c 'e " tl " ill . TI T ' l we hi e et) 1 , , 4 4., , lat stork- . 7'll ' I t° tl , 1.( lie t o ~ ta ii. 4 Alpi th e rive iit ileh "" e 4 " that 1-tries tint th lai tfl• ilc i 0 .a.l of h MIRli ..r. x -.a . 1 „ % Ns:L. , i ll if a., A GIANTESS. THE last number of the American Phrenological Journal contains a biography and sketch of the character of Silvia Hardy, the Maine Giantess. We make the following extract :—She was born in the year 1825, in the village of Wilton, Franklin county, State of Maine. Miss Hardy was, at birth, one of the smallest of infants. Dr. Barker, of Wilton, who attended her mother at the time, used to remark that he had never seen anything, even of the twin kind, so diminutive. Her twin brother died at a very early age. Both together only weighed, we are assured, three and a half pounds. Miss Hardy remained a child of very ordinary size until she was twelve years of age, when she suddenly took to growing with a rapidity that alarmed her friends, and startled all her acquaintances. As she had five sisters, one of whom was older than herself, all of whom were rather below than above the common stature of the sex, her growth was the more surprising. At thirteen, Miss Hardy was tall, At fourteen, she was a novelty. At 1