The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-11-20 00:00:00

,EMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD.

speaking, I am totally unable to hear, in dancing all
my motions are timed by the music, just as those of
dancers who are not deaf. The only difference is, I
require to be nearer the music than they do. I then
experience a delightful confusion of the nerves, such
as I am convinced can be known nothing of except by
those in whom the sense of feeling strongly predomi-
nates over that of hearing."—Home Coinpanion.
THE WOLF'S ATTACK.—It is no less curious than
amusing to witness their ingenious mode of attack.
If there is no snow, or but little, on the ground, two
wolves approach in the most playful and caressing
manner, lying, rolling, and frisking about, until the
too credulous and unsuspecting victim is completely
put off his guard by curiosity and familiarity. During
this time the gang, squatted on their hind quarters,
look on at a distance. After some time spent in this
way, the two assailants separate, when one approaches
the horse's head, the other his tail, with a slyness and
cunning peculiar to themselves. At this stage of the
attack their frolicsome approaches become very in-
teresting; it is in right good earnest; the former is a
mere decoy, the latter is a real assailant, and keeps
his eyes steadily fixed on the ham-strings or flank of
the horse. The critical moment is then watched, and
the attack is simultaneous ; both wolves spring at
their victim at the same instant, one to the throat,
the other to the flank, and if successful, which they
generally are, the hind one never lets go his hold
until the horse is completely disabled. Instead of
springing forward, or kicking to disengage himself,
the horse turns round and round without attempting
a defence. The wolf before then springs behind, to
assist the other. The sinews are cut, and in half the
time I have been describing it, the horse is on its
side ; his struggles are fruitless—the victory is won.
At this signal the lookers-on close in at a gallop, but
the small fry of foliowers keep at a respectful distance
until their superiors are gorged, then they take their
turn unmolested. The wolves, however, do not
always kill to eat ; like wasteful hunters, they often
kill for the pleasure of killing, and leave the carcases
untouched.— The Fur Hunters of the Far West.
OPIUM AND OTHER STIMULANTS.—The following is
part of an interesting article in Blackwood's .Maga-
zine for Nov. :—" The universal craving for these
stimulants, which confer for the time such enjoyment
and spiritual elation, however dangerous may be the
indulgence to which it leads, springs from an attribute
of our nature which may well be called divine. What
occasions that craving but a longing for a higher
species of enjoyment that men can find in ordinary
life ? In its lower forms, it may be but a craving for
sensual excitement—but it is a supreme spiritual joy,
and intellectual exaltation that allure the victims
of narcotics. They yearn for the dawn of that
heaven within which makes their joy. A Plato-
nist would say it is a yearning of the soul after joys
which it once knew, but has now lost, and whose me-
mories haunt it like the lingering echoes of music
heard in dreams. More truly, however, would it be
said to be a proof of the divine nature of the soul,
which cannot be satisfied with the pleasures of a fallen
world, and which yearns after the happiness of a higher
state of being—a happiness which is indeed held out
in prospect to all, but the true passport to which is not
the hasty coining of an indolent counterfeit of it here,
but a manly facing of work and purifying sorrows, and
the steady cultivation of the noble grace of self-denial.
The intense miseries which are the set-off to this fleet-
ing, artificial enjoyment, may well repel men from re-
lying upon narcotics as a means of gratification.
Truly it may be said of such indulgence, `the
end of these things is death.' For what is the
existence of the habitual opium-eater but a walking
nightmare, a life-in-death ? ' Conceive a poor
miserable wretch,' wrote Coleridge of himself, ' who
for many years has been attempting to beat off pain by
a constant recurrence to a vice that re-produces it.
Conceive a spirit in hell employed in tracing out for
others the road to that heaven from which his crimes
exclude him ! In short, conceive whatever is most
wretched, helpless, and hopeless, and you will form as
tolerable a notion of my state as it is possible for a
good man to have.' How difficult it is to redeem one-
self from such bondage is known to all, but hardly the
agonies and distresses which accompany the efforts of
self-deliverance. Even supposing, after the inseparable
lapses and relapses of months, the victim triumphs,
and the vice is abandoned—what a melancholy paean

181

is that which conies from the lips of the victor ! I
triumphed,' says De Quincey : but think not, reader,
that my sufferings were ended. Think of me as of
one, even when four months had passed, still agitated,
writhing, throbbing, palpitating, shattered, and much
in the situation of one who has been racked.' "
A PICTURE OF PEREKOF AND THE ISTHMUS.—The
Isthmus of Perekop itself is about five miles broad,
and stretches from the Bay of Karkinit on the side of
the Black Sea to the Sivash, which is connected with
the Sea of Azoff by the Strait of Yenitchi. It appears
that this Isthmus—barring new earth-works—was
till lately defended by an irregular fortress erected on
the south side of a deep ditch, and protected by a high
wall, built of freestone, stretching right across the
Isthmus, which rises slightly in the middle. The fosse
and the wall are said to have been formed in ancient
times by the inhabitants of the peninsula to defend
themselves against the incursions of the nomades of
the steppes. At the present time there is, according
to Mr. Danby Seymour, a bridge across the fosse, and
a stone gateway which' presents rather an interesting
appearance as seen from the north. On either side
are a few straggling houses, inhabited by Tartars,
Jews, and Russians, most of whom derived their sup-
port from the salt lakes in the vicinity. The princi-
pal part of the town is at a distance of about two miles
farther south, and goes by the name of the Armenian
Bazaar, from a group of that speculative and industri-
ous nation having established themselves there. It
contains a custom-house, and comptoirs for the brandy
distilleries, and salt magazines, besides a number of
shops for the supply of the wayfarer, and about 900 in-
habitants. There are also a mosque with two minarets,
and a Russian and Armenian church. The quantity
of salt exported by this route is immense. According
to Vsevolovski, more than 20,000 waggons are annu-
ally employed in the trade. The same waggons have
been of infinite service _during the present campaign
in forwarding men and munitions across the steppe..
They are drawn by oxen, and generally form large.
caravans, the sight of which afford an agreeable relief
to the eye of the traveller when wearied by the con-
tinuous monotony of the plains. The salt is produced
by evaporation on the surface of the lakes, some of
which have a circumference of upwards of twenty
versts (one verst is equal to one-seventh of a geogra-
phical mile), and are in general shallow, having for-
merly had communication with the sea. The soil
around is also impregnated with salt, and the vegeta-
tion is consequently in part that of a saline plain.
The Tartar
ttmi
hesue cattlecah s sheep,vt aharaue that
wftooefhndodt
sbheoyef
itphet
rhse
hei
Ps
smaak
isiao
partake
f gsavo l
uetgr
mme toeeafatt
sdi
to.
meadow
msaasninatertoegnau,lassh:
Bentley's Miscellany.
PARISIAN MARRIED LADIES.—In the various trades
of Paris there are very few, excepting those exclu-
sively devoted to men, such as tailors, saddlers, and
so forth, where the wife and husband are not together,
in the shop and counting-house, from morning till
night. They have their home above their shop, and
there they repair together, leaving the shop in the
care of the premiere demoiselle, to take their meals
with their children—enjoying this family meeting as
a moment's respite from the daily toils, and talking of
their future plans, or the amusements which next
Sunday is to bring forth. Now the husband has no
need of a confidential friend, to whom to confide his
perplexities or embarrassments ; his wife knows all
his liabilities, all his resources. She will advise with
him, devising the best means to meet them, or with
the ready wit and quickness of a woman, find some
resource or expedient which he has never thought of.
Then he has no anxiety as to his cash, for his wife is
cashier, and makes up the books ; all fear of being
cheated or robbed is, therefore, removed from his mind.
Their interests are mutual, so he can attend to the
outside trade, the buying and selling in the wholesale
market, in perfect security that no one is taking ad-
vantage of his absence. Madame, however, though
she is a woman of business, does not forget that she
is a woman, and does her best to be an attractive one,
both in her dress and in her manners. In this class a
dereliction from virtue is almost unheard of. The
change in society which has taken away the pomp of
circumstance from the nobility, and reformed its
morals, has taken away the only danger to which this
class of women was exposed. The seduction of a
marchande by one of her own class has, perhaps, never
occurred—and were it to happen, the justice of society