The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-12-04 00:00:00

think the most lovely aspect in which nature can
appear, at least in this part of the world. The even-
ing had now become perfectly tranquil and serene,
without which that majesty of repose which charac-
terises a cloudless oriental sky at sunset would have
been destroyed. There is a very strange effect, which
I have often observed produced at sea in these latitudes
by the total absence of twilight, causing the night to
succeed to sunset with such extreme rapidity. When
the gorgeous fiery sun has been engulphed in a perfect
flood of golden light, it does not seem as though by
withdrawing his glowing rays he abandoned the
heavens to gloom, but rather as thpugh that pure,
spotless sky were suddenly become the field of a
mighty combat between day and night for the empire
of a few short hours, in which night is the conqueror ;
for, even in presence of the glorious pageantry of the
sunset, she seems to arise just opposite from the heav-
ing bosom of the deep, strong in the power of her
intense gloom, and gathering the darkness around her
as a mourner robes herself in her sable garments, she
appears to ascend the calm blue vault, while, as she
passes over the face of heaven, the sunbeams recede
before her conquering steps, and retire within the
luminous west, where the last smile of the departed
day gradually fades and expires ; and then, beneath
her feet, star on star springs into light, waxing bolder
and brighter as her kingdom is more firmly established,
till every moment her deepening shadows bring forth ,
more glorious worlds. The same scene precisely is
enacted on the still bosom of the sea, where, as in a
mirror, the reflected sunset is devoured by reflected
night, that creeps from wave to wave with an irre-
sistible power. I think any one who has once beheld
it could never forget this singular aspect of the eastern
sunset, where night seems thus suddenly to rise and
extinguish day, instead of as in our not less lovely and
lingering twilight, where slowly and sadly the blessed
light departs to leave the fair world, where it loved to
smile, to the soft shadows gradually stealing down
from heaven long after the sun has disappeared.—
Wayfaring Sketches.
HINTS TO TEATELLEES.—I may here be permitted
to offer a few words of advice to young and inexperi-
enced travellers in Palestine. Young men, fresh from
college, and ever accustomed to one of the most
healthy climates in the world, forget on reaching the
East that they have there to contend with many
hitherto unknown evils, and vainly imagine that they
can engage in the same violent exercise, and in some
cases.excesses, which they were wont with impunity
to indulge in at home. Hence, they over-heat and
over-exert themselves ; their main object in prosecut-
ing their travels apparently being a wish to accom-
plish a long journey in as short a space as is practi-
cable, and they gallop over parched plains and scorched
mountain passes during the very hottest hours of the
sultriest day. They encamp or bivouac, when over-
come with fatigue and heat, under the cool shade of
some umbrageous tree, where the insidious breeze
tempts them, heated and perspiring though they be,
to throw off their coats and heavy garments, and revel
momentarily in the luxury of shirt-sleeves tucked up
to the elbow, and shirt-collars carelessly opened ; while
others, unable to resist the temptation offered by some
river or stream, plunge into its waters, and in the
temporary enjoyment of its refreshing coolness forget
the many serious consequences that may, and, in al-
most every instance do, inevitably ensue. Go and
look over the thickly-set tombstones in the churchyard
attached to the American Mission Chapel at Beyrout,
and every third stone will mark the early doom of
some thoughtless young man, who, from want of
common care in diet, in exercise, and in exposure to a
climate ever baneful to English constitutions, has
paid a heavy tribute, indeed, for imprudence and sheer
thoughtlessness.—Neale.
THE DEATH-PLACE OF PONTIUS PILATE. A
legend is popular among the people of Vienne con-
cerning the death of Pontius Pilate. The story is of
a strange character, and throws a wild and pleasing
interest over the locality which commemorates the
event. Not far from Vienne is situate a small Roman
tower : its walls are built square, and rise to an unusual
height. Its lattice-work overlooks the waters of the
river : and the lofty shadows of its exterior envelope
the shining flood winding at its base with a perpetual
gloom, and seems to borrow an additional feature of
melancholy from the character of the deed which is
presumed to have been enacted there. This place is
called the " Tour de Manconseul." After the crucifi-

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cation of Jesus Christ, Pilate, broken in spirit, retired
to the tower to indulge in his grief, and to conceal
his lamentations from the eyes of his unbelieving
people. Here, violently susceptible of the great wrong
and wickedness he felt himself to have participated
in, in a paroxysm of despair he threw himself from
the lofty windows of the tower, and perished in the
waters of the Rhone.. The Swiss have likewise their
traditionary account of the death of Pilate. At the foot
of one of the Alpine mountains, called by the name of
Pilate, stands a small lake its waters are constantly
in a disturbed state, and often the scene of violent
storms. Gloom and solitude are the leading charac-
teristics of this unfrequented place, which presents
but a wild and ill-boding picture to the eye of the
traveller. Enfeebled in body, and his mind a prey
to ceaseless remorse, Pilate 'is said to have reached
the margin of that lake, and there to have seated
himself and drunk of its waters. An alien from his
country and race, without friend or solace, he resigned
himself to the bitterness of his reflections, and finally
threw himself into the waters at his feet. The tran-
quillity of the scene is said to have become changed
from that time. The waters are often visited by severe
and unaccountable agitations, which the legends say
are the writhings of the troubled spirit of Pilate.
The adjacent mountains are shadowed all the year
through, and the superstitious inhabitants of the dis-
trict affirm that apparitions are frequently to be seen
in the neighbourhood, and lamentations are heard
upon the winds, waking the echoes of the mountain
fastnesses. The subject has been before referred to
by English travellers, and particular allusion is made
.to " Hughes's Itinerary."---Journal of an An-
tiquary.
THE PLEASURES OF TRAVELLING IN AUSTRIAN
GALLICIA.—We continued our journey, therefore, but
in about half an hour's time we came to an unexpected
halt. In attempting to cross what appeared to be a
small ditch, the carriage sank in a deep slough, black
as soot, and of the consistency of batter. The
wretched rope harness gave way to the first strain
upon it ; and there we were fast enough, and looking,
I dare say, very foolish. Climbing, however, over the
driving seat, we reached terra firma, without much
difficulty, and took a comprehensive survey of the
whole extent of the disaster. It was quite evident
that, with our own cattle, we should never get the
carriage out of the place where it then stood. Nothing
was to be seen of the fore wheels, and the hind wheels
were three parts covered. A couple of good English
or Mecklenburg horses would have done the business
after we had alighted, without much fuss ; but the
dunghill jades which we had been obliged to hire stood
as motionless as obstinate donkeys, when the whip
was applied to them. Leaving, therefore, the driver
to 'take care of them, we proceeded on foot ourselves
towards a village which we saw about a mile off, in the
hope of procuring a couple of oxen ; and, after walking
three parts of the way thither, we had the luck to fall in
with an elderly peasant, who had with him two small
horses--poniesrather---and one of the very light and very
small waggons of the country. To our request, how-
ever, for assistance, he lent no willing ear ; he was
going home, his village was a long way off, and so
forth ; and, finally, he only consented upon the condi-
tion that he should be paid beforehand a zwanziger,
the price of a whole day's work, for his services. We
closed at once with his demand, and I mounted the
charrette by his side, while my friend, whose talk was
still of oxen, if oxen were to be had, pursued his way
to the village, from which he returned in about half
an hour afterwards with the information that he could
find no one in the inn but a Jew in the agonies of death,
and no one in the village but a woman, whom fever
had brought nearly to death's door. When he did
rejoin me, a curious scene was in progress. A stout
young Gallician peasant, who had passed by with his
cart during our absence, had taken off his boots,
trousers, and drawers, and was nearly up to his middle
in the slough ; the coachman had followed his example,
and these two were striving to push the carriage for-
ward from behind ; while four ponies, two belonging
to the young peasant, and two to the old one, and one
of our horses, were expected to do their part in front.
But the ponies, though they pulled stoutly, could not
agree about the direction in which they were to go,
and the horse thought proper to manifest his inde-
pendence of all parties by resolutely throwing up his
heels, and refusing to advance an inch. Then
came a pause, an unharnessing and re-harness-