The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-07-17 00:00:00

iMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD.

that truly cosmopolitan spirit which must ever actuate
thelorer of literature for literature's sake, shows a
somewhat strained feeling in his endeavours to place
the American poets on &pedestal, which even he, him-
self, seems doubtful of their right to occupy. He
claims for transatlantic poetry not only the highest
present place, but insists on its future occupancy of a
yet more exalted position. So long as he maintains
his theory in general terms, it may probably be
unnecessary to interfere ; and we should feel inclined,
in the language of Scotch heraldry, to " let the deed
show :" but when he tells u s that these great expectancies
are founded on the ennobling and spiritual character
of American philosophy, we are constrained to look
somewhat more narrowly into the subject. In doing
so, we find . that the so-called spiritualism and
philospphy of America, so far as these can be gleaned
from her most popular authors, leans heavily towards
materialism, and specially favours its consequent help-
mates, scepticism and infidelity. This knowledge, con-
nected with the reviewer's averment, makes us pause
before trusting ourselves to his guidance ; as, however,
he has only half treated of his subject in this present
paper, and defers entering critically into the merits of
the poets, whom he merely eulogises, it becomes un-
necessary, on this occasion, to do more than protest
.against the conclusion with which he somewhat
singularly sets out. The other papers in the number
are generally interesting, and embrace discussions upon
marry 'important subjects, displaying varied scholar-
ship and the possession of right feeling.

Stories from a Screen. By Dudley Costello. London

Bradbury and Evans.
This is really an amusing as well as a clever book.
It abounds in smartly-delineated sketches of men and
manners in different countries, dashed off in the easy
style of a master. They are generally short, and in
the stories of a screen we have an almost endless
variety of lively reading. Such a book for a sea-side
companion is invaluable. Possessed of it, the most
listless may defy ennui, and the " man upon town"
may for the nonce safely shut himself up in a her-
mitage

Plain Directions for the
.Purchase, Choice, and
Management of Horses in Health and Disease.
By James Mills, M.V.C.S. London : Dean and Son.

In this small volume the amateur of " horse-flesh"
will find much useful information conveyed in popular
language. He will here find disinterested counsel
upon a subject more beset by artificial difficulties than
are to be met with in probably any other course of
study. The book is well written, carefully prepared,
and very cheap. --.
Hogg's Instructor. Edinburgh : James Hogg.
The July number of this periodical sustains its cha-
racter for varied utility, and pleasing as well as harm-
less amusement. It opens with a cleverly-written essay
on " The Poetry, of Alfred Tennyson," from the pen of
Gerald Massey, in which that clever writer reviews,
suo more, the claims of Tennyson to public favour,
concluding by demanding for him and for his writings
a proud, niche in the temple of fame. The other
paper,s in the number are of the usual order.
Sharpe's London
_Magazine.

London : A. Hall,

Virtue, and Co.
A long period has now elapsed since this periodical
was last submitted to our critical inspection, in which
interim it seems to have undergone considerable change
in its contents and arrangement, without, however,
abating its claims to favourable consideration. It still
continues, judging from the July number, to be a
repertory of nice original tales ; to be well garnished
with selected matter ; and it concludes with fairly got
up notices of new publications. The present number
is embellished by an illustration from the prolific
etching-needle of George Cruikshank.

Our Magazine : containing Original Compositions in
Prose and Verse. Birkenhead : .Ward and Parker.

The possession of a respectable magazine in any
locality is a step of advance in the way to intellectual
culture, which deserves countenance and commendation
from all right-minded members of the community.
The object sought in establishing this serial, which
has reached, its fifth monthly number, is, we are told,
for the purpose of publishing " original compositions
in prose and verse, on any subject, except such as are
purely theological, or inconsiamt with Istria morality."

A FIRST APP.EARASCE ON ANY STAGE,

WE had been urging my grandfather to tell a story
in his turn—it was a great many years ago, before he
was attacked by that illness which ultimately caused his
death—and after much presuasion, he had consented.
The old gentleman smiled, took off his spectacles,
and thus began : " What I am going to tell you is an
adventure that happened to myself. It took place
when I was quite a youth—not twenty years of age—
and travelling through Germany for my pleasure.
You have heard me speak of Muller, my trusty
German friend and tutor ? Well, he was with me
at this time, and we were pedestrianisin„o• together
through the states of Central Germany. It was about
midsummer when we reached the fertile little duchy
of Saxe-Weimar, where we took up our quarters
at a snug inn on the borders of a forest, which was
very romantic and pleasant. Now, Muller would read
and smoke all night, and lie in bed late in the morning;
but I was an early riser then, and loved to be out in
the woods and fields by break of day, to see the sunrise
from the hill-tops ; so, as you may imagine,, we had
not much of one another's society till the afternoon.
On this particular morning of which I am speaking, I
had started earlier than usual, meaning to have a long
ramble through the green forest, and bidding Muller
come and meet me at his leisure in one particular spot,
which we had discovered a. day or two previously in
the very heart of the solitude—a wooded hill, down
which a foamy cascade leaped merrily, and mingled'
with the waters of a little winding river that threaded=
the intricacies of the forest. At the foot of this hill,
just raised from the level of the surrounding ground,
and quite set round with leafy trees, was a semi-circular
piece of lawn; like a natural amphitheatre, through
which the streamlet took its way, still bubbling
and eddying from the agitation caused by the tiny
cataract a few paces beyond. Altogether, it was a
delicious place ; and here, with a volume of Shakspeare
in my pocket, I went that morning with the intention
of reading As You Like It, in a spot as fair and lonely
as even the Forest of Arden.

I used then to be somewhat of a naturalist, as you ar e
aware. I was easily led away by a fern, or a flower,
or any fragment of quartz or crystal that chanced to
fall in my path ; and this day, happening to get in-
terested in a peculiar variety of the lichen race, which
seemed here to bound, I so loitered by the way that it
was almost noon before I arrived at the point of ren-
dezvous.

But my surprise was great when I found it already
occupied, and, apparently, for a very singular and
amusing purpose. The party in possession consisted
of some sixteen or eighteen ladies and gentlemen, and
about half-a-dozen servants in gray and silver livery.
All of them were young and well dressed. The gen-
tlemen wore a kind of hunting-costume, and the
ladies looked charming in their light summer gar-
ments. The servants were busily occupied in erecting
a temporary theatre, formed of canvas and painted
wood-work ; a pile oicushions and cloaks were laid in
front upon the Award, for the accommodation of the
spectators ; and everything was being prepared for a
dramatic performance in the open air. Something
seemed, however, to have gone wronc, in their arrange-
ments ; for they had all gathered together round one
young man of commanding height and agreeable
aspect, with whom they were consulting in hurried
and anxious tones, and who, by the troubled expression
of his countenance, seemed no less puzzled and dis-
concerted than themselves.

All at once every eye was turned upon me, as I
stood in silent wonder just at the opening point
among the trees. There was a joyful cry—a clapping
of fair hands—a burst of merry laughter ; and to my
immense tonfusion,,l was in a moment surrounded by
the little company, and questioned by ,a dozen voices
together.
Can you act ?'
Do you know the comedy of Die Burgomeistre
Will you take Herman for us P'
Can't you contrive to read the part ?'
Anyhow will do, if you would but consent to:
oblige us !'
Startled and bewildered, I looked from one to an-
other, not knowing how to reply or whom to answer
first, when the young man whom I had before ob-
served advanced towards me, and said with much
politeness and good breeding