The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-09-04 00:00:00

SUPPLEMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD.

I;ilevorgtlee,drtarde
ful to
A I. the ediny teg!ake off the hat in the high-
to anybody that courted it,
Fentleman " satisfaction " if he was
squint ; for Wilkes was as brave
~pretlg'ett-hearted. He was an odd kind of
ki:bd, 4111 n that had strayed into the Ward
sikiiia‘inod lyithout ; and he ultimately mystified
"of PleasureVe ; for he was really of no party,
this
and a fine coat. The best thing
tl.O 111 S. love of his daughters; just as the
their 'prig in the French is their walking about
ice families on the Boulevards, after all the
ernotasild,volatility of their insurrections.—The
4,,, 442'6,
lit't4'B RE
ei hi l,
life and writings an ardent regard for
I§.l4,ll,t.,erests of religion, he was at the same
In th,lleVer in revelation. He was too deeply
Ipirir, f
'o Scriptures, and too much imbued with
t newss Judge harshly of other men who took
lips prhl °' them from his own. He cherished
4 to ex "le of religious toleration, and never
kihiestl3,less his abhorrence of persecution, even
Llted t_ Lorin. Immorality and impiety he never
iTloouse pass unreproved. When Vigani told
tatioe; step' about a nun," he gave up his
ik? •clisr all' when Dr. Halle ventured to say
;,_ spectful to religion, he invariably
ili,"'ul with th
L Yon h e remark " I have studied these
,'beasts'a:vose ri°t." He' considered cruelty to
1S hiS tend, a violation of Christian morality ;
rness P
tilt! not tolerate the .or the lower creation, that
Ilbi, When mr. ~, sports,. of hunting or shooting
1443 of one of•
o`.'ullauitt one day was speaking
Oeetion 0n..,:_ Sir Isaac's nephews, he urged it
k,••si,, A 5..,1.n5t him, " That he loved killing of
:"Alq o-lor_reicster's Iffe of _Newton.
Lte )1,1,..... -1\ STANCY.—A Turkish gentleman of
se, ',lied a sweet young creature, midway
kt unen,leen and eighteen. He had no other
'l44llek. The lady had not before had a
,le 481
,she usually will, in this case, if the
't a a "Ind one, she resolved to love him. He
' i,ll),a.rticularly fond spouse i but he was as
„ft'ih,. husbands generally go. He was not
V,. little the reverse. But the young
e 'alat to love him ; and love him she *did.
tae, ere marriage, business called him away
41viree left it, without laying any injunction
kill more than she had always to obey whilst
4.l'...thre. She could go out when she liked ;
Itltig ti'j with her as usual. But so fearful was
te4g that, in her husband's absence, she
)11
,orti'Pted, even for a moment, to turn her
rjP3) Earths er man, that she made a resolution
lord than her harem and the garden
,9 keteturned. This promise to herself she
'tp, Pt, though her husband was absent
Iq hiseal_ ,ts• When he came back he was in-
s prel'ase Yt's affection, and, in the ec.stacy, of
kC-100 and l'ied her a stomacher of diamonds
lif4llo'ire killed twelve bullocks and twenty
e'/Iring to Allah, for giving him so faith-
t Abse vit.'Y of the Crescent.
‘, L v.
kl/4,,,i„. isrr TO THE CRIMEA..—One of the
17 kttra sto thi spot, Lady Craven, after-
10q . vine of 8
2 ,
.>`. Tl, Anspach, thus wrote respecting
Icillittlere Count Wynowitch commands here,
to Jets at Inkerman, which must once
tt tOp'l,4le bi°llsiderable and extraordinary town.
[;,of ;:i, licLg remains of it are rooms
.hewn out
~,`' sli'dk4th a,e 18 a large chapel, the pillars and
ki 914 ; 'lot aextremely curious ; the stone is
ts `tept ,-.'4,lce marble. I climbed up a stair-
it4ilt,,! am
~,140 and out. of very extraordinary
),, t:,%liit:X4raodious. I entered at the bot-
ri'ittler: oat 7, habitations, and, like a chimney-
' 40 Villile „7" the top ; and though it cost me
Ike' a bout of c turning and climbing up so high,
Flake /ae, tat'itig mounted so much, till, on
'l4iiiN, alia„Lurned quite giddy on seeing phe
t4(l
1 'he pig`i all the Black Sea at least 250
'4Atly 7ae Where I stood." Lady Cra. yen
llttt,f a bpa.,° _ the capabilities of the adjoining
ittia*."F*.o(l when no Sebastopol existed on
loNtl4liLt°4l the singularity of the coast, the
Isi:ed hke any other I ever saw. It is a long
VI the Black Sea between two ridges of
Ilti that h '
Ps ill thet Glor navy,atherine,' one of the
u Russian which is at anchor

dant. The water is so deep that this ship touches the
here, cannot be seen, as the shore is above the pen-
land. All the fleets of Europe would be safe from
storms or enemies in these creeks or harbours, for
there are many. Batteries at the entrance of them
on one side would be sufficient effectually to destroy
any ships that would venture in, and placed towards
the sea, must even prevent the entrance of a fleet.—
The Crimea, liy the Rev. T. _Milner.
THE TOWER OF LONDON.---Every inch of the
Tower Wall is tied to a story---is an evidence in his-
tory. Hits Roman connexion be fabulous, here, at all
events, was a Saxon stronghold, and here is a Norman
castle. At sight of these architecturally much-abused
walls what names and recolleotions rise This palace,
prison, and fortress, " the very germ of London," as
Charles Knight calls it, is, in truth, the early hiatory
of England, written on stone, and interspersed, may
we say, with many " cuts on wood." Visitors should
not forget Traitors' Gate---
-" that gate mis-named, through which before
Went Sidney, Russell, Raleigh, Cranmer, More ;"
or the little church of St. Peter ad Vincula, where lies
Anne Boleyn with many other noble sufferers ; or the
Beauchamp Tower, with its singularly interesting re-
cords of some who where imprisoned there, cut in the
stone walls. This latter will be seen on the west side
of the open space beside the keep, or what used to be
called " the Green beside the Chapel within the Tower,"
and is now the officers' mess-room. To view this, per-
mission must be obtained, but this will not be fouud
difficult. Many of the inscriptions are full of interest,
none more so to us than the simple word " Jane," which
if not written by the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey her-
self, probably was by her husband, Guildford. The
present mess-master is apt and obliging in describing
the most important of these "trivial fond records ;" but
he is in error in pointinc, out the date to the inscrip-
tion signed William Tyrrell," as " 1241, the earliest
inscription here." It is 1541.

MY FIRST BRIEF, AND How I GOT IL—The day
before our return to town, my friend had a party of
Dublin acquaintances at his house ; among the guests
were the late Mr. D--, an old attorney in consider-
able business, and his daughter. In the evening,
though it was summer time, we had a dance. I led out
to Miss D— : I did so, I seriously declare, without
the slightest view to the important consequences that
ensued. After the dance, which (I remember it well)
was to the favourite and far-famed " Leg-of-Mutton
jig," I took my partner aside, in the usual way, to
entertain her. I began by asking if " she was not
fond of poetry ? She demanded, " why I asked the
question ?" I said, "because I thought I could per-
ceive it in the expression of her eyes." She blushed,
" protested I must be flattering her, but admitted that
she was." I then asked, "if she did not think the
Corsair' a charming poem ?" She answered, " Oh,
yes !" "And would not not she like to be living
in one of the Grecian islands ?" " Oh, indeed, she
would,"—" looking upon the blue waters of the Archi-
pelago, and the setting sun." " How delightful it
would be," exclaimed she. "And so refreshing," said
I. I thus continued, till we were summoned to
another set. She separated from me with reluctance,
for I could see that she considered my conversation to
be the sublimest thing that could be. The effect of
the impression I had made soon appeared. Two days
after I received a brief in rather an important case
from her father's office. I acquitted myself so much
to his satisfaction, that he sent me another, and another,
and finally installed me as one of his standing counsel
for the junior business of his office. The opportuni-
ties thus afforded me brought me by degrees into
notice. In the course of time general business began
to drop in upon me, and has latterly been increased
into such a steady stream, that I am now inclined to
look upon my final success as secure.—Sketches of the
Irish Bar, by William Henry Curran, Esq.

SARAH SIDDONS.—North : Sarah was a glorious
creature. Methinks I see her now in the sleep-walk-
ing scene !—Shepherd : As Leddy Macbeth ! Her
gran' high straicht-nosed face, whiter than ashes !
Fixed een, no like the een o' the dead, yet hardly mair
like theni o' the leevin ; dim, and yet licht wi' an ob-
scure lustre througci which the tormented sowl looked
in the chains o' sleep and dreams wi' a' the distraction
o' remorse and despair,—and oh ! sic an expanse o'
forhead for a warld o' dreadfu' thochts, aneath the
braided blackness o' her hair, that had nevertheless

been put up wi' a steady and nae uncarefu' haun be-
fore the troubled Leddy had lain doun, for it behoved
ane so high-born as she, in the middle o' her ruefu'
trouble, no to neglect what she owed to her stately-
beauty, and to the head that lay on the couch o' ane
o' Scotland's Thanes—noo, likewise about to be, during
the short space o' the passing o' a thunder-cloud, her
bluidy and usurping King.—North : Whisht—Tick-
: ler—whisht—no coughing. Shepherd : Onwards she
used to come—no Sarah Siddons—but just Leddy
Macbeth hersel—through that melancholy masquerade
o' passion, the spectator aye had a confused glimmerin
apprehension o' the great actress—gliding wi' the
ghostlike motion o' nicht-wanderin unrest, unconscious
o' surroundin objects,—for oh ! how could the glazed,
yet gleamin een, see aught in this material warld P—
yet, by some mysterious power o' instinct, never
touchin ane o' the impediments that the furniture co)-
the auld castle micht hae opposed to her haunted foot-
steps,—on she came, wring, wringin her halms, as if
washin them in the cleansin dews frae the blouts o'
blood,—but wae's me for the murderess, out they wad
no be, ony mair than the stains on the spat o' the floor
where some midnicht-slain Christian has groaned out
his soul aneath the dagger's stroke, when the sleepin
hoose heard not the shriek o' departing life.—Tickler:
North, look at James's face. Confound me, under the
inspiration of the moment, if it is not like John
Kemble's !—Shepherd : Whether a' this, sirs, was
natural or not, ye see I dinna ken, because I never
beheld ony woman, either gentle or semple, walkin in
her sleep after having committed murder. But,Lord
safe us ! that hollow, broken-hearted voice, " Out,
damned spot," was o' itsel aneuch to tell to a' that
heard it, that crimes done in the flesh during time
will needs be punished in the spirit during eternity,
It was a dreadfu' homily yon, sirs ; and wha that
saw't would ever ask whether tragedy or the stage
was moral, purging the soul, as she did, wi' pity and
wi' terror ?--- Wilson's Noctes Ambrosiance, vol. i.

NATURAL HISTORY.—It is very well and seemly to
see how all our naturalists of these days unite in giving
God thanks for the plenitude and magnificence of all
his works—how it is this overflowing superabundance
—the wonderful wealth which he dispenses in every
corner of his vast dominions—that is the burden of
almost every voice. While this spirit continues, there
can be no pursuit more suitable to human minds than
that of natural history ; and to see the pains which
God has taken with the minutest morsels of life. is
enough, if we consider it, to make us a great deal more
wary of our performances, and to take care of putting
nothing bad or unlovely out of our hands. Like those
honest old craftsmen of the elder times who elaborated
every unseen corner, and giddy, unbeholdable pinnacle,
we had need to do everything well and honestly—this
whole money-making hasty race of ours—if we would
imitate in the faintest fashion the works of God.
Notwithstanding all this, natural history is very often
sowewhat of a bore. One cannot take up a cheap
publication—a magazine or journal for " the people,"
but there is a coarse woodcut of some uncouth brute
or other, and biography of the same ; and our learned
brethren are but too apt to suppose that we, who are
not very much enamoured of beasts, either in real
life ar in fossils, are very poor ignoramuses indeed,
and scarcely worth being cultivated. We object to
this, we decidedly object, where we buy a picture paper
at the railway station, to have a walrus or a crocodile
inevitably thrust upon us. Science is good, but science
has its drawbacks. That dreadful society for the
diffusion of useful knowledge, which once filled every
cheap publication with elaborate descriptions of every
manufacturing process, has happily intermitted its well-
intentioned labours ; and of the two, perhaps we will
conclude to prefer the ingenuity of insects to the in-
genuity of cotton factories. But life has things as
important.. We do not want to know how everything
is made, and we do not care for a very intimate ac-
quaintance with the great ant-eater or the hippopo-
tamus, important as their pretensions are.—Black-
wood's Magazine.
CIVILITY.—It is an easy thing to be civil, and
although, in the language of the old proverb, "fine
words butter no parsnips," they frequently nay,
almost invariably, have a kindly effect, and influence
the mind as well as the heart. Nevertheless, there
are certain persons who go through the world as if de-
termined never to utter a civil phrase, never to do a
civil turn. They are naturally rough, harsh, peevish,
and dissatisfied, and even when appealed to in matters