The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-09-22 00:00:00

i 1 L . ~.: 1_.~; 7 HOPE. Written for the Liverpool Standard: Away ! Ambition's 1 open. depart Ye phantoms to deceive us Ye promise to thq.trusting he:rt What naught of earth can give us. Away ye elves of Pintos soon We loathe your sordid pleasures; I woo ye not, I see!: a boon Above your richest treasures. Your beams are shed oii fleeting things, Like light on vapours ~laying; Your flowers, alas! ye plant, where time Is evermore decaying. A hope that Virtue's pilgrim knows, There is, untoucli'd by sadness ; A light that shines through cares and woes, And bursts, alone in gladness. This hope can Sorrow's tears assuage, And give to Want new treasure ; And in the wintry heart of age Can re-awaken pleasure. And shed around perennial bloom, When otter hopes are blighted ; Strew flowers of Eden en the tomb Of job s that once delighted. Death may not quench its radiant light— This hope can ne'er grow hoary ; On through mortality's dark night It burns with bright'ising glory. And whence this hope? 'tis not of earth, Nor with its sunshine blended ; The world nor gives nor steals its worth, 'Tis from above descended. It looks beyond life's charging clime, Where flood and temp .r niges ; Builds not upon the sa..ds of time, But on eternal ages. Whit is this hope? a voice he hears, Here in li e's narrow portal, Of heritage in happier sphere's : His destiny immortal? His Cynosure ! it beams on high— Through snare and trouble guldeth; Gives foretaste of the ecstacy Where deity abideth. • The soul on this shall soar on high, Yet keep her wings unspotted; Till erown'd a ith And Virtue's treed allotted. SAMUEL HU GGINS. Brunswick-road, September 18th, 1846 A FIRST LOVE. (Written for the Liverpool Standard.) There are periods in the life even of those the most deeply immersed in the world's concerns, when the mind impulsively wanders bark into the past, and sees the events and the persons of long-forgotten scenes flit in spectral panorama before its vision. The merchant in his dusky counting- house, surrounded with records of profit and loss ; the lawyer in his solitary chambers, poring over abstracts or briefs ; the reveller amidst Iris brimming cups, with the laughter or the wit of boon companions ringing in his ears, at times feels an irresistible spirit-summons, which drags him from this material world, to wander over again through some bright oasis, or to shudder through some dark passage, of his bygone career. All men have experienced, more or less, acecirding to their various tem peraments. these casual awakenings of slumbering me mory, in which the soul seems to assert its independence of, and supremacy over, the dull matter in which it is cloth;d, and the sordid passions and feelings with which its etherial essence is clogged. But there are some, of more mercurial and irn ginative temperament, to whom not merely the acted passages and the persons of the drama of.past years, but even some flitting thought, some look of our beloved, some indistinct and isolated event, or scene, or feeling has presented itself at times, which we cannot connect intelligibly with the context of our life, and which is, pleasingly or painfully bewildering, accord ing to its character and the impress which it leaves upon us. Many, indeed, there are, upon whom some long dropped link in the chain of memory—some bright or bitter thought—for which we have long ransacked in vain the records of the past, Hashes up, when the severed por tions to which it belongs are lost to us for ever. Such a casual and uricqnnected glimpse of the past pre sented itself to us a few days ago, whilst indulging our selves with a cigar and our nocturnal tumbler of punch. It was the remembrance of a summer afternoon, and of the thoughts and feelings which stole with its beauty over our mind and heart. Wordsworth, by the bye, had a si milar return of " One summer's day, when he was young, And Matthew seventy-two." Shelly, in his dreamy roetry, talks of The swift elision of a thought;" and Co l le4lge's mast sublime poems seem more like the portaiti of the dimly -. remembered dreams of an opium slumber, ban the productions of waking existence. We were young on that summer afternoon; but, unlike Wordsworth, were alone, immersed in our own medita tions. The precise locus in quo of our reverie we cannot distinctly call to mind. It was a cricket ground, how ever, somewhere in the neighbourhood of the place of our nativity ; and baying been ingloriously caught out, with out making a score, we had retired to a secluded corner of the field, and were reclining on the green sward, luxuri ating in an upward vision of " cloud-land, gorgeous land," watching pile upon pile of fle.ecy sun-tipped exhalations changing their fantastic forms as the wind drifted them over the blue face of heaven, and peopling them with in habitants fitted for such a world of etherial loveliness, each female resembling a certain terrestrial goddess of Our ac9uaintacce, and each happy male a kind of fancy portrait of what we imagined our own interesting person might be when a few more years should have passed•over our heads. 'We do not know how lone we had indulged in this sublimated love-dream, when our senses were re called to vulgar earth and its concerns, by the not over gentle application of the spike of a cricket shoe to our person, and an impatient summons to take our place in the " long field off." Here our treacherous memory leaves us in the lurch ; and of the remaining events, of that summer afternoon we have no record left. But of the goddess of that day-dream shall we ever lose the remembrance ? Sweet Mary Bennett ! We see her even now, as when in her blooming girlhocd, she stood behind the counter of her father's odious shop in our native town, her small fat hand folding ur ounces of tea, half ounces of tobacco, or half pounds of sugar. Her plump round arm —somewhat of the reddest to be sure—her buxom little figure, and her round rosy face, with eyes looking out from it, to our imagination like the eyes of a Howl, but more roguish in their expression than quite became an inhabitant of paradise. are before us still. The smile with which she occasionally exchanged the sixpence which we weekly mustered for rusine or figs ; and, when we bad reached the ambition of a diurnal Havanab, the gentle squeeze of our fingers as she handed us the neatly tied up copper, dwelt with us for many a year. Poor Mary Bennett !—but we must not allow our feelings to run away with us and anticipate our story. We were just fourteen when we first left the grammar school of our native town, to gather the graces and ac complishments of manhood and to be " finished" by a two years course of classics and belles leitres at the board ing school of an eminent pedagogue in a distant part of the country. How indelibly is the evening before depar ture impressed upon our memory ! We had slipped out unperceived from the company of a few friends of the f am ily, who were assembled upon the occasion, to take a parting walk with dear Mary —for by this time the in nate bashfulness of our nature had given way before the powerful impulse of a first love ; and we encountered each other beneath the elms of the old church yard, from which a style led to a pleasant shaded path by the stream, which watered the neighbouring meadows. What a taste for the beauty in scenery and situation bad the church men of the olden time ! The sacred Panes erected by our fathers arose in the pleasant places of the land. They gleam out from eminences. upon whose beauty even the wearied traveller pauses for a moment to gaze ere he hur ried on in his absorbing worship of the world. They are seen noon gentle slopes, hall dby surrounding wood and Coppice, meandering and a hose base is washed by rivu lets, or they l :e bedded in the heart of sequestered val lies •, as if pl a ced there, that no ruder sound than that of their church -summoning bell, or the tread of their little throng o f s imple-hearted worshippers, might break in upon the quiet of those who :Amber in their grassy grave yards. Seek one of these sweetly located monu ments of the devotional feeling of a past age; and mark the chaste beauty of the few flower and shrub-embow ered cottages which surround it—for the " Cottage near the Church" is ever associated, and justly, in the mind of an observer of the scenery of rural England with such dwellings, for which the hand of taste and of nature has done far more than the skill of the bui'der or the design of the architect. Branching off from the village church are the sweetest walks, the mast sequestered retreats, the most cooling shades. The church of the little town of G was a building thus picturesquely and beautifully situated. Alas ! the clear, purling stream, by which we walked that summer evening, is now made turbid by a neighboring worsted factory ; and the once quiet shady path alorig its margin resounds daily with the ribald talk. or the more offensive curses of a demoralized and over toiled population. But we are digressiog,. We loitered along that path, poor Mary and ourselves, hand in hand and in silence which, caused by overcharged hearts, is more expressive than words. Language came at length, and it is wonderful how much each had then to Bay ; and, when when s o l ittle time was left to -sa y that much, it was wonderful we thought how we could have trifled with that time. What was said, however, need not be recapitulated here nor what was left unsaid noticed. The reader. male or female, is doubtless in a position to imagine both for him or herself. Enough that the moment of parting came at length, and language again having failed us the sad word farewell took the shape of a part ing caress, of which we 'may say of poor Mary, with the poet— " 'Twas partly love and partly fear, And partly 'twas a gentle art, That we might rather feel than hear The beating of her heart." Arrangements were, however, made for mutual corres pondence, and the sad ceremony over, we returned home by separate routes. This, we have an indistinct idea, was from some fear of our respective parents. Next day, we left behind us our native town, and our hearts' first objet of affection. The events of our first year's absence at boarding-school we need not detail. The novelty of situation and scene, the change of associates, and more strict devotion to study, we must state, despite the sneers with which the assertion way be met by worldly minded or giddy people, did not divert our thoughts from dwelling, at every leisure oppor tunity upon dear Marv. Eery pulchra puella whom Virgil, Horace, or Tibullus painted in lachrymose mood, deserted of her Titvrus, or her Daphni,,, we adorned with the lineaments of Mary Bennett. We pictured her de jected at our departure, sighing occasionally at the thought s of our recent delicious converse, and of that last thrilling embrace, flurried at any mention of our name, and giving, in her embarrasment, wr)tie change to a customer, moist sugar for brown, or tobacco for tea. Hence when three months had passed over since our parting, we became indescribably anxious for the promised lever. with all the protestations of continued love, which our heart told us it must contain ; and day by day we made inquiry of the private channel, through which we had arranged to inter change our fond-communications. At length it came—a dumpy little epistle, written upon something between whitey-brown and tea-paper, and sealed with a thimble. Although not over.impressed with the elegance of the out side, we opened the letter with a flutter of delight, first kissing the seal, as the next best thing to kissing the dear dumpy little finger which had impressed it. The contents, however, although not displaying great excel lence of orthography, grammar, or penmanship, were abundantly gratifying, if professions of •• fervent love," " true rffection," and all the other adj-ctives, positive, comparative, and superlative, which are usually affixed to these magic words, c a n convey gratification. We were happy, and should have remained so, but tor the di;covery of a hitherto unnoticed postscript, is which the dear girl apologized for not writing sooner, on the ground that "she had been afraid of John seeing her write to any body." Now, who was John ? Our mind misgave us that there was an individual of that name, who had recently been engaged in the shop of Mary's father, as journeyman or assistant—a spruce personage with a shock head of curly red hair, and an undeniably good opinion of himselt, prompted, perhaps, by the circumstance that he had served his apprenticeship in a third-rate shop in the county town, and afterwards graduated for a year in London. What John, however, could have to do with Mary's correspond ence puzzled us, until the thought suggested itself that, probably, her abstracted air and the dejection occasioned by the absence of one so dear had prompted her father's suspicions that a love affair was the cause; and that this monster had ben set to watch her movements with a view to get at her secret. The flattering thought that it was for our sake that she feared John, restored us to happiness; and in the tender reply, which we forwarded at the earliest pportunity, we thanked her ardently for the consideration shown for our love. The year of absence passed rapidly away, contrary to the general rule of such years. Young hearts, let other hearts be what they may, are not very susceptible of undue depression. The non-arrival of further commu nications from our,adured—for she never wrote save that one dumpy whitey-brown epistle—troubled us at times; but we thought of John's surveillance, and looked for ward to a meeting under the churchyard elms for an eclair cissement and an exchange of raptures. The time tor return home arri wed at length, and at dusk in a fine sum• mer's evening, we stood once more.in our paternal abode ; and when, late at night, we retired to rest, it was to dream of the dear old fashioned shop of Peter Bennett and of its presiding goddess, our beloved little Mary, with a sight of both of whit h dear objects, the morning sun, we trusted, would favor us. VARIETIES. The deepest part of the ocean which has been sounded is one mile and 65 feet in depth.. If we suppose its medium depth to be two mile's, the water in it would cove: all the dry parts of t e earth—ie it could be spread over them—to the depth of about 31,680 feet, or six miles. SINGULAR ROMAN CATHOLIC CiIIREMONY. — Before we leave the Chapel del Condest.ble. one of its ceremo nies deserves particular mention. I allude to the Missa de los carneros (sheep.masts.) At early mass on All Souls' day, a feast celebrated in this chapel with extraor dinary pomp. six sheep are int: oduced, and made to stand on a large block of unpolished marble, which has been left lying close to the tombs, almost in the centre of the chapel ; near the six sheep are placed as many inflated skins of i igs, resembling those usually filled with the wine of the country ; to these is added the quantly of bread, produced from four bushels of wheat, and all remain in view during the performance of high mass. At the con clusion of the final response, the sheep are removed from their pedestal and make for the chapel-gates, through which they issue ; and urged by the voice of their driver, the pecnliar shrill whistle of Spanish shepherds, and by the more material argument of the staff, proceed down the entire length of the cathedral to the music of the aforesaid whistle, accompanied by their own bleatings and bells, until they vanish through the great western portal.— Wells' Picturesque Antiquities of Spain. EFFECTS OF CLIMATE UPON THE HUMAN COM PLEXION.—AIthougIi it cannot be pretended that climate is the single and decisive cause of colour, yet that it is the leading cause our author endeavours to show by an exten sive induction in his second volume, the outline of which we must here trace. It must be observed, that in it he is confining his attention to Europe and Africa. Running rapidly from the north of Europe to the south of Africa, we find, first, in Scandinavia, men with white hair and eye-lashes, grey eyes, fair skin ; all in accordance with the northern latitude. After these we fall in with the au burn hair, blue or grey eyes, and florid complexion, which predominate in Britain and Ireland, a great part of Rus sia, northern Germany, Denmark, and Holland. Ad vancing southward, tLe tints appear to deepen, except where elevation compensates for latitude. Thus, in France the prevalent colour of the hair is chesnut or brown, and of the eyes hazel or blue ; but when the ground rises, towards the Alps or Pyrenees, the colour of the people fades. The Swiss, in the high mountains above the plains of Lombardy, have sandy or brown hair; and in the higher parts of the Biscayan country the natives have a fair complexion, with light blue eyes, and flaxen or auburn hair. Beyond the Alps the traveller, on de scending into the :,Vlilanese, finds himself among peasants with black hair, black eyes, and almost " oriental" fea tures., or, after leaving the Pyrenee highlands behind him, he sees a population with swarthy or olive skin and black hair. All the inhabitants of lowlands in the Me diterranean region display an immense predominance of the darker tints; the complexion being ordinarily bru nette, the hair and eyes corresponding. On the southern plains of Spain the Andalustans are as swarthy as the Moors on the opposite shores. The ancient Egyptians, iii the same latitudes, were swarthy, yellow, or copper red. But, proceeding from the Moors of the Mediterra nean inland, we have to traverse the great highland coun try known by the name of Atlas, which spreads over the best part of Numidia and Mauritania . ; and along this elevated district a series of changes is observed in the hues of the population, the details of which, although stated by us above, may be concisely recapitulated. " The Berbers of the plains are of brown complexion, with black hair ; the Shuluh mountaineers are fair, and the inhabitants of the high tracts of Mons Aurasius are completely xanthous, having red or yellow hair and blue eyes •, which, fancifully and without the shadow of any proof, they have been conjectured to have derived from the Vandal troops of Genseric ;" while the Berbers of Ereag and Ergela are blacks, with negro hairs and fea tures. It farther appeared that the Fulah4, almost under the tropic, yet on table land, are red, not black ; some of the same race, indeed, of a Portuguese tint : moreover that in Abyssinia the hues of the people become lighter as the ground rises, until on the lofty soil of Narea they attain the European standard. With the tropic and low lands of Senegal begins the region of jet-black skins, which as far as we know continues through inter-tropical Africa, except in the more elevated regions. Beyond this is the country of copper-coloured men, who in Kafir land are the maj , rity ; while between the tropics there are few such tribes, and those only in lofty places. Lastly, towards the Cape, on open and bleak steppes, are the tawny Hottentots,—scarcely darker than the Nlongo • lians, whom they resemble in many outer particulars besides colour.—Prichard'a Physical History of Man kind. AN ADVENTURE IN AUSTRALIA.—On landing, I di rected Mr. Tarrant and one of the boat's crew to follow with the rest of the instruments. The walking was very bad, the reef being strewed with coral fragments, and in terspers?d with large pools. With my mind fully occu pied with what we had seen of late, I hurried on without waiting, and reached the observation spot, just glancing towards the cliff, which presented nothing to the view but the silvery stems of the never-failing gum trees. I had just turned my head round to look utter my-followers, when I was suddenly staggered by a violent and piereng blow about the left shoulder; and ere the dart had ceased to quiver in its destined mark, a loud long yell, such as the savage only can produce, told me by whom 1 had been speared. One glance sufficed to show roe the cliffs. so lately the abode of silence and solitude, swarming with the dusky forms of the natives, now indulging in all the exu berant avian with which the Australian testifies his delight. One tall busby-headed fellow led the group, and was evidently my successful assailant. I drew out the spear, which had entered the clvity of the chest, and retreated with all the swiftness 1 could command, in the hope of reaching those who were coming up from the boat, and were then about half way. I fully expected another spear while my back was turned ; but, fortunately, the savages seemed only to think of getting down to the beach to complete their work. Onward I hurried, carrying the spear which I had drawn from the wound, and determined if, as I expected, overtaken, to sell my life dearly. Each step less steady than the former one, reminded me that I was losing blood : but I hurried on, still retaining the chronometer, and grasping my only weapon of defence. The savage cry behind soon told me that my pursuers had found their way to the beach : while at every respiration, the air escaping through the orifice of the wound, warned me that the strength by which I was swill enabled to struggle through the deep pools and various.other impe diments in my path, must fail me soon. I had fallen ' twice, each disaster being announced by a shout of vin dictive triumph from the bloodhounds behind. 'To add to my distress, I now saw with utter dismay that Mr. Tar rant and the man with the instruments, unconscious of the fact that I bad been speared, and therefore believing • that I could make good my escape, were moving off to wards the boat. I gave up all hope, and with that rapid glance at the past, which in such an hour crowds the whole history of life upon the mind, and one brief mental act of supplication, or rather submission, to Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death, I prepared for the last dead struggle. At that moment the attention of the re treating party was aroused by a boat approaching hastily from the ship; the first, long, loud, wild shriek of the natives having most providentially apprized those on board of our danger, they turned and perceived that I was completely exhausted. I spent the last straggling energy I possessed to join them. Supported on each side, I had just strength to direct them to turn towards our savage enemies, who were hurrying on in a long file, shouting and waving their clubs, and were now only about thirty yards off. Our turning momentarily checked their advance, whilst their force increased. Daring these very few and awfully anxious moments, a party headed by Lieutenant Emery hastened over the reef to our support : another moment and .ours would have been the fate of so many explorers. The hand of the savage almost grasped our throats ; we should have fallen a sacrifice in the course of discovery, and our bones, left to moulder on this distant shore, would bare been trodden heedlessly under foot by the wandering native.—Stokes' Discoveries in Aus tralia. • THE LIVERPOOL 811ANinA110. LIFE IN THE PRAIRIE. (From England in the New World.) In one of my transatlantic voyages in a steamer, I met with a very singulariman, a German by birth, who was on his return from Europe to America. He was about thirty years, of age, of a rather small but active and wiry frame, his features very handsome, of a chiselled and distinct outline; his bright black eve never met yours, but watched as you looked away, with penetrating keenness; the expression of his mouth was wild and somewhat sen sual, with two perfect rows of large teeth, white as ivory ; his hair was black, Worn long behind ; complexion fresh and ruddy, but swarthed over by sun and wind. tie was never still, but kept perpetually moving to and fro, even when seated, with the restlessness of a savage animal, al ways glancing round and behind, as though he expected, but did not fear, some hidden foe. His voice was soft and rather pleasing, very low, hut as if suppressed with effort. This strange being had been educated in a Ger man university, and was very well informed ; the Euro. peen languages were all equally familiar to him ; he spoke them all well, but none per!ectly, not even German; in several Indian tongues he was more at home. When still young he had left his country; struggling out from the down•tiampled masses of the north of Europe, he went to seek liberty in America. But even there the restraints of law were too • severe ; so he went away for the Far West, where his passion for freedom might find full vent. Hunting and trapping for some months on the upper branches of the Missouri, he acquired money and influ ence enough to collect a few Indians and mules, and drive a dangerous but profitable tra.le with•the savage tribes round about. In course of time his commerce prospered sufficiently to enable him to risemble twenty four men, hunters, Canadian voyagers, and Indians, well armed with rifles, with many mules and wagons laden with the handiwork of the older states. He started with his company in the beginning of April for the Rocky Mountains, from Independence—the last western town, ori.einally settled by the Mormons, four miles from the Missouri River. They travelled from twelve to fifteen miles a-day through the " Bn-h" and over the Prairies, and were soon beyond the lands of friendly or' even neu tral tribes, among the dangerous llama; of treacherous and warlike Blackfeet. By day and night the party were ever on the watch ; though they rarely saw them, they knew that enemies were all around. The moment there was any apparent carelessness or irregularity in their march, they were attacked with horrible whoop and yell ; if there was sufficient time, they ranged their wagons round, and used them as rests for their rifles, and for orotection from the bullets and arrows of the Indians. Once they were suddenly; - surrounded by a more than usu ally numerous and determined body, all well mounted ; tbere was no time to form the accustomed defence; so each man fell on his face; the bowie knife, stuck in the ground, gave him in its handle a rest for his aim, and the hunter of the Prairie seldom shoots in vain ; but when he fired he turned on his back to reload, thus always expos ing the smallest possible surface to the unskilful eye of the Blackfoot marksman. Many of the assailants were slain, and the survivors attacked openly no more. These travellers carried no tents, sought no shelter; wrapped in their blankets, they braved the wind, dew, and rain; their rifle: gave them abundance of buffalo, deer, and mountain sheep ; and they sometimes had the luxury of wild potatoes, roots, and nuts. They did not burthen themselves by taking with them spirits, salt, flour, food, or luxury of any kind ; for their horses there were rich and plentiful grasses. Sometimes, but that very rarely happened, they ate their beasts of burthen. when the chase had been for a long period unsuccessful; fuel was not always to be had, and then they were fain to devour their meat raw. There is one Brea salt prairie, where some white men lost their way, fainted, and died of thirst. Occasionally these adventurers had lack of water; but when they had got five hundred miles on, and into the Rocky Mountains, they found abundance, with many mineral springs, some of them of rare virtues, and a few sait lakes.. The peaks of this grim range are here ten thousand feet high, always white with snow ; but the company, keeping in the gorges and the valleys, felt no great cold at any time. They steered their course by the compass through the wilderness. Besides the Blackfeet they had fierce but seldom unprovoked enemies, in the huge grizzly bears. Some of the hunters were dainty in their food, and liked the flesh of this monster, and they were very vain of his spoils, the rich fur and the terrible claws: he can run very fast, and may be struck by many a bullet before he drops and yields ; he knows no fear, and never declines the combat when offered ; if he once gets within reach to grasp, the hunter must perish; but, somehow, these white men, weak in body, strong in mind, in the end crash alike the stalwart and active Indian, and the fierce and grizzly bear. For five hundred miles more the it way lay through these Rocky Mountains; for six hundred beyond them, they still steered for the north. west, till they struck on the upper forks of the Columbia River. Here they met with more friendly natives, and some of a race mixed with French Canadian blood, be sides a few lonely hunters and trappers. Here and fur ther on they traded, and got great quantities of rich and valuable furs, in exchange for their blankets, knives, guns, and other products of civilization. The burning of the prairies is one of the dangers and. hardships to which these traders are exposed. In the autumn the tall rich grasses dry up and wither; the slightest spark of fire suffices to set them alight, and then,. whichever way the wind may carry it, the flame only ends with the mountain, the lake, or the river. The heat is but for a few moments, as the blaze sweeps by, but it leaves no living thing baltind it, and the smoke is dense and acrid. When the fire approaches no man mounts his horse and trusts to its speed ; that would be in vain ; but they fire the prairie to leeward and follow the course of the burning, tilt enough desolation lies between them and their ravenous pursuer to starve it into tameness. The German once found the blackened tract of the fire for nine hundred miles, and could only obtain scanty grazing for his cattle by the borders of the lakes and rivers on his. route. In the year 1844 he was delayed much beyond his usual time in collecting mules sufficient for his expedition, and could not start for Santa Fe till the middle of Septem ber. There is a low, hollow country, many miles in ex tent, about fifty days' journey on their road ; it is covered with , gravel, sand, a.id stone; there is no hill, rock, or shelter of any kind ; it supports no animal or vegetable life, for a strong withering wind sweeps over it, summer and winter. The adventurers have named this hideous. place—probably from the wind—tha Simoom. Great caution is always taken to pass it before the winter begins ; this year they were late, and the rigour of the season set in very early ; and, when they were well advanced into the danger, a thick snow-storm fell. There was no track ; the cattle moved painfully; they were without fuel, and the stock of forage was soon exhausted. Many animals dropped by the way; and, in one night, a hundred and sixty mules died from cold, weariness, and hunger. Then the hunters, who had faced many great dangers and hard ships before, became appalled : for the snow still fell hea vily, and the way was tar arid dark before them. The next morning they consulted together, and agreed to abandon the convoy and hasten back to save their lives. An old hunter. who had served long and faithfully, and was known to be much esteemed by their leader, was cho sen to state this determination to him. The delegate came forward, and, in a quiet but determined way, declared the mutiny. As he spoke the German shot him dead : the rest returned to their duty. Leaving orders to his company to remain where they were, the leader, es corted by two Indians, rode back to the settlements : they had but little food with them ; the journey was seven hun dred miles, and they had to cross many rapid, swollen streams, but he arrived safely, procured supplies, returned to his people, and, after a prosperous expedition, they all came back in safety. His narrative of these events was as free from bravado as it was from the expression of human feeling or romance. The adventurer, being now wealthy, went to Europe, with the intention of settling, or at least spending some time with his friends in Germany. Here mined in London for a month, where he met some con nexions who treated him with kindness. But the bond of society proved intolerable to him ' • he gave up his plan of going home, and once again turned to seek the wild but fascinating life of the prairie. This strange man was tho roughly well informed on all the political and social con eiitions of the nations of the earth, in their poetry, philo sophy. and even their novels. He had reamand thought much ; with an anxious effort to overcome this love of sa vage life, be felt deeply the evil of yielding to its influence, but succumbed. By this time he is again in the deep gorges of the Rocky Mountains, or chasing the buffalo on the prairies of the west. A FRENCH SCHOLAR. " ' Aimez sous la musique, Monsieur ?' inquired her Majesty, addressing me in the court dialect, which she evidently saw 1 understood. " Oui, votre Mojall," I answered promptly ; "Jesuis un grand amand de cela." "Dana ce cas, Monsieur, it est possible pm vows possi des le talent du chant." I was not quite sure that I understood her Majesty's meaning, for royalty loves to envelooe itself in a disguise, and I hesitated a moment, but recollecting that the word "chanter" means to sing, my natural acuteness came to my aid, and I replied— " J'ai le plaiser depouvoir un petit." The Queen smiled at my readiness, and continued. " Clue/ eat mire genre. Monsieur 1" _ _ " Je suis masculTn, votre Majesti," I returned. " Sans doute, Monsieur, je ne suppose pas le contraire, mais, dana quel genre chantez vous—ltalien, Francais, Anglais ow Aliemand ? ' I saw that I made a slight mistake here, in supposing that the word "genre" meant gender, but I speedily re covered myself, when I found, by the question being put in English, that her Majesty wished to know what was my style of singing. "Moi chanter, Madame, Anglais chansons; je non sav7ir pas plusieurs." " Quets soft les noms de ceux auquels vows donnez la preference, Monsieur?" It was not a very easy task to express their names in French, but I made the attempt. "Le chien viande Homme—Le Rose arbe en plain por tant—Chez-moi, douse Chez-moi— Reigle Britannia— Ecossais qui out—La jeune mil lune—Mon apartement garni est stir la froide terre—Sautez jacques corbeau— et un peu autres." THE DUTCH FISHERIES IN SHETLAND.--It is stated, apparently on good authority, that for many years the Scotch herring-fishery yielded the enterprising Holland ers a revenue of about £3.000,000 sterling. Dr. Camp bell, after premising that the value of the Dutch fishery has often been exaggerated, and that, therefore, be will give " a modest computation," proceeds to observe, that it would be no difficult thing to prove to the satisfac tion of the candid as well as critical inquirer, that while it continued to flourish in their hand, they drew from their fish-ry out of the ocean washing the coasts of Shet land, to the amount of two hundred millions sterling I" This spews what an immense and inexhaustible field of wealth our remote seas in days of yore proved to those who bad skill and enterprise to cultivate it.—Fraser's Magazine. THE KABYLES OF MOUNT ATLAS.—Amongst the most determined enemies of the French in Africa, are to be enumerated the Kabylcs, tribes dwelling in the ranges of the Lesser Atlas, from Tunis to Morocco. Of differ ent race from the Arabs, they are believed to be the 'abo riginal inhabitants of Northern Africa. Secure in their wild valleys, they have ever preserved their independence. Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Arabs, all failed to subdue them ; and. although some of the tribes, whose territory is the least inaccessible, are now partially under the rule of the French, the maritime range, from the east of the Metidjah to Philippeville, remains•unconquered. Their numbers are inconsiderable, roughly estimated at eighty thousand. This would give a fizhting population of at most from sixteen to twenty thousand men ; but that smallforce has been found efficient to preserve from fo reign domination the almost impregnable fastnesses in which they dwell. Although the tribes wage frequent war amongst themselves, a common enemy unites them all. Tne attachment of the Kabyles to their country and tribe is remarkable. Like the. Swiss, or the Spanish Ga licians, they are accustomed to wander forth when young, and seek their fortune in other lands. Kabyle's servants and labourers are found in all the towns and villages of Northern Africa. But if they learn that their tribe is threatened or at war, they abandon their situations, how ever advantageous, and hasten home, and to arms. They are very brave, but barbarously cruel, giving no quarter, and, torturing their prisoners before cutting off their heads.—Blackwood's Magazine. SKETCH OF T. S. DUNCOMBE, ESQ., M.P.—He is the most gentlemanlike demagogue of whom we have any re collection. Of course we speak of the exterior man alone, not desiring to go the length of assuming that other men, of perhaps more ardent patriotism, but of manners more rough, may not possess quite as many of the real qualities of the gentleman, those which are independent of conven tional customs, habit, and dress. In those externals, however, let their worth be what they may, Mr. Dun combe is certainly distinguished from the members gene rally of the House of Commons, so much so, that a stran ger entering the assembly would naturally observe the singular elegance and finish of his attire as distinguishing him even in a place where well-dressed men are rather the rule than the exception. We have been almost tempted to think, too, that in proportion as his Tribuni tian displays grozr more bold, and his principles more democratic, he has become more and more anxious to preserve his old character as one of the most fashionable men about town,—thus, as it were, drawing the personal distinction more and more strongly, the more he approxi mated towards the principles of the working classes. Strange as it may seem, the most able parliamentary ad vocate of the " great u• washed" is himself a perfect model of every thing that is recherche'in dress, manners, and carriage,—nay, be has even been called the " Dandy Demagogue." One thing, at least, is certain, that he is, to look at, almost the very last man from whom you would expect such powerful, nervous, and humorous speeches as he has made during the last few years, or the bold and clever tactics, followed out under every disad vantage, and against overwhelming odds, with which he has puzzled and so times discomfited the most distin guished masters in the petty strategies of party politics. It is well that we should get over our surprise at this contrast between the roan and his doings, because we shall then be better able impartially to estimate the value of those doings, and to examine the machinery by which he has obtained his unquestionable influence in the de bates of the House of Commons, besides exciting a cer tain degree of interest in the public mind on behalf of whatver subjects he may choose to bring before parlia ment ; otherwise we should be continually puzzled with practical contradictions. Not in his careful attention to dress alone does be so differ from his colleagues in Radi calism ; the contrast extends to his physical and mental organisation, his whole bearing and demeanour. There is not one of them, however honest may be his intentions, or respectable his conduct, who does not prepossess a casual observer unfavourably rather than favourably. They have all some physical defect to overcome, or some want of mental training, or some jaundiced, distorted view of things, grating on the feelings of a lazy public, and creating a predisposition not to attend to their represen tations. A Wakley is considered too palpably to embody in his person and style of speaking some of the more commonly received ideas of the demagogue. With all his shrewdness, clear-sightedness, and information, he still has a stout array of prejudices to overcome, before he can make his way to the feelings of a fastidious audi ence. A Roebuck, on the other hand, with fewer natural disadvantages, more authorised pretensions, and more regular training, wilfully deprives himself of these privi leges, by indulging in distorted views of existing things, and in a habit of spiteful but pointless persona itv, which renders him at once annoying and ridiculous. The mind of a Hume, though well constituted, is too contracted for an assembly which, with all its short-comings, is so en lightened ; and his defective address destroys what little influence his steadfastness of character and consistency of purpose have acquired for him. And so in like man ner is it with most of the leading members of the extreme Liberal section. They all seem to have been forced by some accident, not harmonising with their previous ca reer, into the position they hold, without having had that power of adaptation so singularly displayed by Mr. Cob den and some others, by which &stranger to the forms and customs of the house becomes at once amalgamated in feeling with those whom he finds there, as if he had been all his life accustomed to these new duties. But Mr.Duncombe has every natural advantage in his favour. Whatever disapprobation he may at times excite by the license he occasionally gives himself when making his personal attacks, it is a difficult thing for him to destroy the prestige at first created on his behalf. Tall and very well proportioned, there is a striking. air of elegance in his whole figure. which is rendered still more pleasing by the absence of all affectation ; which is, in fact, precluded by a peculiarly frank and manly deportment, and a cap 1- eating openness of mariner almost amounting to famili arity. A handsome face, singularly expressive of the humorous, a remarkably intell gent eye, and a voice at once sonorous and harmonious, complete the attractions of this fortunate and favoured candidate for popularity.— Fraser's Magazine. A HOUSE TO LIVE IN.—Another acquaintance of ours —and this we will say that we are proud of being known to him—dwells in an old-fashioned gloomy house at Pe tersham. It is a respectable old gentleman in a brown cnat, black shirts, white waistcoat, and a pigtail ' and is a member of the Royal Society as well as of the Society of Antiquarians. The house in question suits him, arid he suits the house; it was built in the time of that impu dent intriguing Dutchman who came over here and drove out his uncle and beau pere ' • and it accordingly possesses all the heavy dignity of the Dutch houses of that period. The windows are pedimented and cased with mouldings ; they are lofty and sufficiently numerous; the doorway has two cherubs flying, with cabbages and roses round the shell that hangs over it ; and the lawns are still cut square, and have queer-shaped beds and parterres. There is something dignified and solemn in the very bricks of tie mansion, wearing as they do a more regular and sombre hue of red than the dusty-looking things of the present day • and when you once get into the spacious rooms, all floored and all pannelled with oak, you feel a glow of veneration for olden times—though not for those times — that you cannot define, but which is nevertheless excess ively pleasing. While sitting in the well-stored library of this mansion, you expect to see Addison walking in at one door, and Swift at another; and you are not quite sure but that you may have to meet Bolingbroke at dinner, and take a glass of wine with Prior or Pope. There are numberless large cupboards all over the place; you could sit inside any of the fireplaces, if- the modern grates were, as we wish them, removed; and as for opening or slam ming a door in a hurry, it is not to be done ' • tney are too heavy ; no such impertinences can ever be tolerated in such a residence. And then our friend himself—we could tell you such a deal about him, but we are writing about houses, not men—syou must go and get introduced to him yourself. Let it be put down in your pocket me moranda, whenever you hear of te house of this kind to let, either take it yourself or recommend somebody else whom you have a regard for to do so. It is not a hand some, stylish kind of house, but it is one of the right sort to live in.—Blackwood's Magazine. MICHAELMAS Goosa.—The old custom of eating goose on Michaelmas -day has much exercised the inge nuity of antiquaries. Brady remarks that this festival " is no longer peculiar for that hospitality which we are taught to believe formerly existed, when the landlords used to entertain their tenants in their great halls upon peeve; then only kept by persons of opulence, and, of course, considered as a peculiar treat, as was before the case at Martinmas, which was the old regular quarterly-day ; though, as geese are esteemed to be in their greatest !ler fection in the autumnal season, there are but few families who totally neglect the ancient fashion of making that bird a part of their repast on the festival of St. Michael." There is a current, but erroneous, tale, assigning to Queen Elizabeth the introduction of this custom of the day Being on her way to Tilbury Fort, on the 29th Septem ber, 1588, she is alleged to have dined with Sir Neville l-lumfreville, at his seat near that place, and to have par taken of a goose, which the Knight, knowing her taste foie high-seasoned dishes, had provided ; that after her dinner she drank a half-pint bumper of Burgundy to the destruction, of the Spanish Armada; soon alter which she received the joyful tidings that her wishes had been ful filled ; and that, being delighted with the event, she com memorated the day annually by having a goose for dinner, in imitation of Sir Neville's entertainment; and that, consequently, the courtgene r al throughout adopted the like thekingdom. practice, soon became This anecdote is a strong proof that the usage was sanctioned by royalty in the days of Queen Bess, but there is evi dence that it was practised long anterior to the destruc tion of the Spanish Armada. Among other services, John de la Hay was hound to render to William Barnahy, Lord of Lastres, in the county of Hereford, for a parcel of the demesne lands, one goose fit for the lord's dinner on the feast of St. Michael the Archangel ; and this as early as the tenth year of King Edward the Fourth. The custom may have originated in a habit, among the rural tenantry, of their bringing a good stubble goose with their rent to the landlord at Michaelmas, in the hope of making him lenient. In the Posies of George Gascoigne, 1575, are the following stanzas:— " And when the tenants come to pay their quarter's rent. They bring some fowl at Midsummer, a dish of fish in Lent, At Christmas a capon, at Michaelmas a goose; And somewhat else at New-year's tide, for fear their lease fly loose." "We may suppose." observes a writer before quoted, " that the selection of a goose for a present to the land lord at Michaelmas would be ruled by the bird being then at its perfection, in consequence of the benefit deri ved from stubble-fe eding. It is easy to see how a general custom of having a goose for dinner or. Michaelcoas.day might arise from the multitudes of these presents, as landlords would, of course, in most cases, have a few to spare for their friends." In Poor Robin's Almanack for 1695, under September. are these quaint lines:— " Geese now in their prime season are; Which, if well roasted, are god fare: Yet. however. friends take heed How too much you on them feed. Lest when. as your tongues run loose. Your discourse do smell of gaose."—SharPe'a Mug THE EXECUTIONER OF LOUIS XVl.—When Louis the Sixteenth was about to sufrer death,'Sanson, the public ex-cutioner, had the resolution to refuse the dreadful office. "Say not ro," said one of the regicides, "your own life will be the penalty of your unwise disobedience!' "Be it so then," instantly replied Sanson, "do with me as you please ; I will never be the murderer of my king." One of this man's relatives performed that execrable deed, and it is to be regretted that, having the same name, the odium of that act has been attributed to a person meriting a better fame. —B' ady'R Clavis Calendaria. ENJOYMENT FROM PlCTURES.—Pictures are a set of chosen images, a stream of pleasant thoughts passing through the mind. It is a luxury to have the walls of our rooms hung round with them, and no less so to have such a gallery in the mind, to con over the relics of and eet art, bound up " within the book and the volume of the brain, life passed among pictures in the study and the love of art, is unmixed, (if it were possible) with baser matter !" A happy, noiseless dream ; or, rather, it is to dream and to be awake at the same time ; for it has all "the sober certainty of waking bliss," with the romantic voluptuousness of a visionary and abstracted being. They are the bright consummate essences of things; and "he who knows of these delights to taste and interpose them oft, is not unwise !"—Hazlilt. LEARNED COURTIERS.—It was while the king was from home upon this Assyrian war, that his queen Bere nice, in Egypt, sacrificing a bull to the gods, vowed that if they brought her husband safe home she would cut off her beautiful tresses, and hang them up in the temple in token of her thankfulness. Euergetes soon afterwards returned a conqueror, and the queen's locks were yielded up to the knife, while the whole court praised her hero ism. Conon, the astronomer, was then busy not;ng the places of the fixed stars, and immediately grouping together into a constellation one of those many clusters which the earlier astronomers had left unnamed, he marked it out on his globe, and gave it to the world as the new constellation of the Hair of Berenice. Callima chus took the hint from the courtly astronomer, and, in a poem which we know only in the translation of Catullus, makes the hair swear by the head from which it was cut off, that it was against its will that it left the queen, and was raised to the skies; but, what could it do against the force of steel ? The poet and the astronomer have here heen of use to one another ; the constellation of Coma Berenices is known to hundreds who have not read - Cal limachus or Catullus, but it is from the poet that we learn why the queen's locks were set among the stare.— Sharpe's History of Egypt. I BMA TI IM's GA RDE N.—There is another fine garden in the vicinity of Cairo, which belongs to Ibrahim Pasha, and occupies the whole of the little island of Rhoda; the locality pointed out to travellers as the spot where Ns roh's daughter went down to Cue river to bathe, and found the infant Moses among the bulrushes. This garden is under the superintendence of !dr. Trail, a Scotch horti culturist; and is rich in every variety of tropical vegeta tion and Indian trees, besides whatever European pro ductions can be made to succeed in this dry and burning climate. It is laid out in the English style; and the beautiful flower beds,. and the graceful willows drooping their flexible branches over marble balustrades into the calm Nile, reminded me of the fair gardens of the West, and some of those lovely creations of my own country which have no equal in any other part of the world. No pains or expense have been spared in rendering the gar dens of Rhoda as complete as possible; but when I in quired of Mr. Trail whether Ibrahim Pasha understands enough of botany or horticulture to appreciate the rare collecti'n of plants and trees he has assembled together there, he assured me that all his highness's knowledge of that science is comprised in enjoying a fine peach when it is served at his table. The ladies of his harem are oc casionally permitted to visit the gardens; hut Mr. Trail declares that he would rather s-e a flight of locusts alight upon the premises than these fair recluses. They gather halt the flowers, tread down the remainder, devour all the fruit within their reach, and six months are scarcely suf ficient to repair the ravages effected in less than six hours by them when they are let loose in the bowers of Rhoda."—Mrs. Burner. MEXICAN SUPERSTITION.—But Mexico has one fatal feature which makes the mind despair of her ever holding the rank of a great nation. However glaring may be the super, tition of continental Europe, it is of a feeble hue to the extravagance of Mexican ceremonial. In those re mote countries, once guarded under the Spanish govern ment with the most jealous vigilance from the strangers eye, every ceremonial was gradually adopted, of every shape and colour, which the deepest superstition, aided by great wealth, the influence of a powerful hierarchy, and the zeal of a people at once desperately ignorant and sin gularly fond of show, could invent. Rome, and even Na ples, were moderate, compared with Mexico. The con veyance of the Host to the sick was almost a public pa geant ; and its carriage to the wife of Santa Anna was ac companied by twenty thousand people. The feast of Corpus Chris'i exhibits streets through which thirty or forty thousand people pour along, of all classes of society. with thousands of soldiery, to swell and give military bril liancy to the display. At the head of the pageant moves a platform, on which the wafer is borne by the highest dignitaries of the church. Then follows e in a similar ve hicle, " Our Lady of the Remedies," the blessed Virgin Mother, a little alabaster doll, with the nose broken and an eye out. This was the image of herself given by the Virgin to Cortes to revive the valour of his soldiers after their Mexican defeat ; and this the priests profess to be lieve, and the populace actually do believe. The doll's wardrobe, with its precious stones, is valued at a million of dollars. The doll stops all contagious diseases. and is remarkably active in times of cholera.—Blackwood's Ma gazine. THE RAVEN.—This bird has been highly honoured in some of the ancient British traditions, which record the transmigration of the mighty prince Arthur into the body of a raven, in which shape he shall dwell till the approach of the hour for the restoration of his kingly line. M-ny of the superstitious notions concerning the raven may have their foundation in the fact that the bird's acute scent enables him to-detect the presence of dead bodies, where human senses would fail to impart any information. Murders have thus been discovered. and ignorance has ascribed to the raven supernatural powers. The follow ing account of one of these . events is generally pUt forth as entitled to credit, and it does not contradict any natural law :—A gentleman was murdered in his bed at an inn ; the body was taken to a river near the house, and,to pre vent it from rising, the murderer passed a stake through it, making one end fast in the mud. When this was done a very small part of the stake still appeared above the water. In a few days afterwards some ravens perched near the spot. over which they were constantly flying and croaking. Their numbers increased, and the peasants. alarmed at such an unusual appearance, attempted to drive them away, but the birds persisted in keeping close to a particular part of the river, as if searching for some thing therein. This induced the people to examine the water, but nothing was seen save the end of the stake. This was drawn up, when, to the surprise of the specie to-s, a body rose- to the surface. Suspicion became ex cited ; the marks of cart whet Is were traced from the river to the inn. The owner was apprehended, and, learning the above particulars, was terror-stricken, and confessed his crime. The ravens were probably at first attracted by the effluvia from the decaying body. and one or two would of course soon attract numbers.—Sharpe's London Mag. COSTUME OF•TFIE AFFGHAN LADIES.—When in lic the high-born Affghan lady is so cAnpletely enveloped by her large veil (literally sheet), that the person is en tirely concealed from head to foot ; there are two eyelet holes in that part of the sheet which covers the face, ad mitting air and light, and affording to the fair one, her self unseen, a tolerable view of external objects. I trust I may be permitted without indiscretion to remove this shroud, and give some slight description of the costume. Over a short white under garment, whose name of kam mese (chemise) sufficiently denotes its use, is a peiran, or jacket, which, amongst the higher classes, is made of Bokhara cloth, or not unfrequently of Russian broad cloth, brought overland through B„khara. This garment is generally of some glaring gaudy colour, red or bright yellow, richly embroidered either in silk or gold; it is very like the Turkish jacket, but the inner side of the sleeve is open, and merely confined at the wrist with hooks and eyes. A pair of loose trowsers, gathered at the waist with a running silken cord, and large at the ankle, forms a prominent feature in the costume, and is made either of calico, shawl-cloth, or Cashmere brocade, according to the finances of the wearer. Instead of stockings, they weir a kind of awkward-looking linen bag, yellow or red, soled with thick cloth or felt, the top being edged with shawl-cloth. The shoes are similar to the Turkish slipper, with the usual Affghan high-pointed heels tipped with iron ; and as these articles must from their share be an impediment to walking, I presume that the real use to which they are generally put must have given rise to the common expression in Hindoostan for any punishment inflicted, the term being " jutte mar," literally, beating with the shoe. The weapon put to this purpose would be very formidable, and I have Ude d-aibt that the beauties of the harem keep their lords in high discipline by merely threatening with such an instrument. —A Peep into Toorkisthau. MODE OF CONDUCTING THE HERRING FISIERIES4. The fisheries of the greatest importance to Shetland, speaking commercially, consist of hog, cod, and herring. Obvious though tit- advantages are that might be derived from this source, yet the prosecution of it by the native Shetlanders beyond the mere supply of food, is clmpara- Lively but a modern pursuit. For centuries the Flemings and Dutch were the chief adventurers, and engrossed 'the whole fishings, not around the islands only, but also on the coasts of Scotland. So early as the twelfth century, it is said, the salting of herrings, in a temporary manner, was known to the Scottish fishermen, and if we may cre dit tradition, the Dutch purchased them from us in that state, and likewise carried away immense quantities of dried cod, which are still known in Holland by the name of haberdien—an evident corruption of the word Aber been, the port from whence they were shipped. The balance of trade, however, appears to hare turned against us after the 'Flemings had discovered (about the year 1307). the method of pickling herrings as a staple article of exportation. During the following century, the Dutch herring-fishety became independent of the Scotch, for they used only large vessels with nets, On board of which the fish were cured, without any communication whatever with the shore, except at Bressay Sound. The vast ad vantages reaped by these enterprising foreigners appear to rave aroused the attention of the old Scottish parlia ment, for in the reign of James and in the year 1471, it was enacted, " That certain lords, spiritual and temporal, and burghs, soud gar mak great schips, busses, and ither great pink-boats, with nets and ither abuilzie menis for fishing." This act was confirmed by James IV. in 1491, when it was further ordained, that no vessel should be employed in the herring-fishery under the bur den of twenty tons. In 1573 the government of James VI. appointed the herring-barrel to contain nine gallons according to the Stirling jug, which was the standard Sootch pint. By an act of WO, and several preceding acts, it was ordained that no. herrings should be exported before Michaelmas, all, those caught before that time being appointed to ha sold in the home market for the service of the country•—ef"er'4l Magazine, Sept. 22, 1846. THE LIVERPOOL EXHIBITION OF WORKS OF MODERN ART. NOTICE SECOND. We shall commence our notice today in the second room, in which we find several paintings of a very high order of talent by Liverpool artists, some of which are in finitely more deserving of a prominent position in the exhibition than many we could point to, which, but for the names of their respective artists, might very justly have been consigned to inferior places. This apparent. favouritism, by the committee, of men of established repu tation, or of those who can affix to their names the sym bolic letters R.A., A.R.A., or R.H.A., is one of the greatest difficulties with which the young artist has to struggle. It is the cause too, we doubt not, of much heart-burning. In alt the arrangements of such an exhi tion as this merit ought to be the leading test. An ar tist, whose pictures already command notice, might very well afford to give away a little, to allow unknown merit a fair chance to be appreciated. - - - No. 323. Sir Guyon and the Palmer approaching Excesse at the Porch of the Bower of Bliss, by W. Hog.. gins. The subject is apparently taken from the following passage of Spencer : " Under that porch a comely dame did rest, Clad in fayre weedes, but fowle disordered. And garments loose that seem'd unmeet for womanhed ; In her left hand a cup of gold she held. And with her right the riper fruit did re ch. Whose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse sweld, Into her cup she scrazed with daintio breach Of her fine fingers, without fowle empeach. That so faire winep esse made the wine more sweet: Thereof she used to give to drinke to each. Whom passing by she happened to meet : It was her guise all straungers goodly so to greet. So she to Guyon offered it to taste." Spenser's Faerie Queene; Book 2, Canto 12. We regard this picture as one of the most meritorious in the whole exhibition. The subject is well told, and the figures, scenery, and adjuncts are faultlessly painted. The principal figure, the Bacchanal in the foreground,— " Excesse,"—is especially excellent, the flesh, limbs, and attitude precisely those which would belong to a "comely dams" indulging in the habits described by the poet. Sir Guyon is a striking figure, and his shirt of mail a most skilful piece of painting. Mr. Huggins has advanced his own previous reputation and the credit of our local art very materially bv this production. No. 318, a portrait of an English and Scotch terrler, by the s'irne artist, is full of truth and merit and No. 439, in the third room, we do not hesitate to pronounce the best painted portrait in the exhibition. 329 is a landscape by Copley needing, full of that ar tist's style. The subject is from Ariosta, where Angelica, flying from Rinaldo, seeks a rtfuge in the forest. If any thing, the light thrown upon the figure and steed - of the lady is a little too strong, and inconsistent with the idea of a person biding from pursuit. The objection; how ever, has little to do with the merits of the picture, as a. land.cape, which are great. 331. The Gypsy's Encampment, Rydal Water, West moreland, by E. Williams, senior, is a fine landscape. Mr. Williams has several other in the exhibition, all of which, especially No. 100 in the first room, are very clever. 291, by F. Pickering, certainly does not nwe its place in. the exhibition to any merit - it possesses. It is a bad pic ture. 2.94. Deer Stalkers Refreshing, by R. Ansel!, is a good specimen ot the artist. The dogs in particular, and' the-elder figure, are well painted. 334. The Vale of Clwyd', by J. Allen, is a fine picture, most elaborately painted. We much question, however, whether it is not throwing art away, to lavish so much detail on such a landscape. The aim, however, of the artist has been to give the scene as presented under a strong: and clear light ; and he has succeeded triumphantly, at the expense, however, of giving to the picture very much of the character ot a panorama. 316: On the Conway, after Heavy Rain, by Mr. West, is a good picture. 245. Touchstone nominating 'llie Degrees of the Lie, by W. L. Windus, a Liverpool artist, is a pa'nting of great merit. The scene is the 4th , of Act 5, in "As You Like it. Jaques. , —`. Can you nominate in order, now, the degrees of the lie ?" Touchstone.—" 0, sir, we quarrel in print, by the book. As you have books for good manners, I will name you the degrees. The first, the retort courteous; the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the filth, the c untercheck qiuirrelsome-; . the sixth, the lie with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid hut the lie direct; and you may avoid that. too, with an • If.' I knew when seven j. stices could not take ix., a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves-, one of them thought hut of an -• IT,' as • If you said so, I said so ; 9 and they shook hands and were sworn brothels. Your It' is the only peace maker; much• virtue in • if.'" The figure of Touchstone is most characteristic, and the stolid expression and attitude of Audrey are inimitable. The whole picture indeed is well managed. 3- , 7. Another work of Mr. Windus's, is a pleasing little picture of Aißtsstic Girl. 238. The Ejectment, by W. Davis, Liverpool, is a painting of great character and ability, though evidently the accessories and "the background require working up. The subject is the i-jcion of an Irish family of the far mer class, and the story is very strikingly told. The figures in the foreground are well painted, and the whole scenery in excellent keeping with the sombre spirit of the Picture. A few more days bestowed upon it would render it a work of great value. As it is, the talent displayed upon it is unmistakeable. 239, 240. The Village Church and A Scene on the Tees, Yorkshire, by H. J. Boddington, are two beautiful landscapes, as are 209 and 211 in the first room by the same artist. 241. The Letter Writer, by George Keet, Liverpool, and 312, The Loa Game, are Egyptian sketches of much merit. They are not the best, however, of the artist. His No. 50, in , roam first, is an - er.trellent little picture, and No. 121, The Tombs , of the Culiphs, which we ob serve marked "- sold," is very meritorious. Mr. K. has altogether seven productions in the exhibition. 376. Scene in Bristol, by W. G. Herdman, is an ex cellent picture. 188 Margaret Ramsay, by Miss. E. Hunt, is a most delicate specim-n of flesh colouring. If the orizinal was half so ethereal, the smith, " Hal of the Wynd" might well be afraid of taking any of her delicate limbs into his nervous gripe. 304. Harem Captives, by R. Rothwell; is not a success ful effort of the artist. 354. Summer's Evening, by G. A Williams, and 355, Dutch Fishing Boats earning to Anchor, by W. A Knell, are pleasing compositions. 309. The Palace Garden, by J. D. Wingfield, is a stiff al'air. 314. Prayer, by H. Tiffin, is a very interesting and clever picture, placed in a corner where it cannot be pro perly seen. 272. Old Forest Hall, Arden, Warwickshire, by F. H. Henshavr, is one of the best landscapes in the exhi bition, bold in character and well painted. 278 is a fine specimen of Lance's Fruit. Amongst the oth-r meritorious pictures in this room are 214, A Trelxh Rustic, by J. J. Hill, 251, Heeds of the Village, by H. J. Pidding, a painting full of character, and 276, The Maiden's Gift, by W. Duffield. FREE TRADE AND MANUFACTURING PROSPERITY. Notwithstanding the assurances that the 'Yankees would pay us in the consumption of cotton for , all their previous frauds—that we should array all Pomerania in printed ca licoes, and that even Russian furs should give way to the wares of Manchester, it turns out that we are on the brink of a period of great commercial distress. With the popu lation of Ireland actually starving, a great proportion of the labourers of England likely to be thrown on the poor rates for support, we are about to have the hands of the manufacturing districts turned out for the positive lack of a market. It will be too clear before the winter is over how desperate a last throw of the millowners the attempt t o bribe foreigners to buy by offering to them the markets of the English farmers. Some tune ago the manufacturers of Blackburn cairn to a resolution to reduce their hours of labour. They did so, on finding that the demand was failing, and that to work the ordinary number of hours would be still more to glut a fligging market. The other millowners, however, whether waiting upon the issue of events, or still preserving a hankering belief in the false prophets to whose " testimonials" they were subscribing,_ or, perhaps for the sake of that phantom which has ruined so many thousands in all classes of life, " keeping no appearances." refused to follow the example of the millowners of Blackburn, and hence the following resolutions adopted by the latter:— 1 " 1. That the cotton-spinners and, manufacturers in this town and neighbourhood having almost universally adopted short time, in pursuance of t'e resolutions unanimously passed at the last meeting, this meeting regrets exceed ingly that, in consequence of spinners and manufacturers in other towns not uniting with them, it will be neces sary to resume working full time. . "2. That seasons of stagnation will, from time to time, occur in trade, and can be prevented by no human measures, however w:se ; but that the evil effect of inch. stagnation may be greatly diminished by a temporary re duction of the hours of labour, and of the quantity ot goods produced. " 3. That the tendency of working full time in present circumstances will be to increase the price of cotton, and to depress trade in general, and will probably lead to the usual train of evils incidental to over production, limited) demand, and want of confidence. " 4. That this meeting cannot separate without record ing their opinion, that the relative prices of cotton and cloth and yarns render short time still more necessary now than at the last meeting; and that although they ad journ sine die, the secretary. call a wg hereafter to reconsider the subject, at the request of ilhy five members of the association." Now, if the plea of insanity were allowable in courts of insolvency, could any rational commissioner visit with penalties the manufacturers who ride this John Gilpin race into their courts? It is not strange that a highly-re spectable authority, the Blackburn Standard, should state that "-unless an improvement takes place in the market, a stoppage of the mil's, or a great number of them, partly if not altogether, will be inevitable before winter is over." Let no man interfere with the progress of the Cob den testimonial , the lesser gratuity to Mr. G. Wilson, nor the " little go" for Friend Bright, for if the matter is not done quickly it is likely never to be done at all. With the prophets of the League, as with the equally honest seers whose hands you " cross with sixpence," to outlive the time of fulfilment is to outlive all belief in their powers of vaticination. In the case of the manufacturers this will be evident. The Manchester Guardian may well say that the depression of the labourer " makes in roads upnn the demand for articles of clothing and manu factures." The mill-owners have assisted to destroy the home market by oppressing the labourer and the farmers and when they have sent their goods out to China and back, like a cargo of Madeira (except the improvement), and find that after freight both ways is lost, they yet cannot sell their wares in England, it remains for those who warned them of their conduct to consratulate tbeel on their position.