The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1838-10-16 00:00:00

SELECT •EXTRACTS.

JACK'S NOTIONS OF AN M.P.—Lord bless your heart, I
wouldn't turn my back again the best spouter of them all; I
tells ye; Paul, it's an easy trade, and that's the reason you
see so many chaps as tries to try it. Let a fellow only look
lern'd, launch out a parcel o'loug-winded words, prate upon
nothin', an' prate upon things he knows nothin' about, and,
like a deep laden collier, kick up a bobbery under the bows
'thout advancing a fathom-a-head in a watch, and I'm blest
if he isn't a match for the best parliament prater as ever
prated himself into a good berth.—Cuptain Glascock's " Land
Sharks and Sea Gulls."

A CAPRICIOUS PRIMA DONNA.—Gabrielli, the famous
Italian singer, was so stubborn in her caprice that neither
interest, or flattery, or.threats, or punishment, bad the least
power over it. She is thus mentioned by a contemporary
traveller in Italy:—" It is seldom she condescends to exert
these wonderful talents, but most particularly if she imagines
that such an exertion is expected. And instead of singing
her airs as other actresses do, for the most part she hums
them over; and no al.:. whatever is capable of making her
sing when she does not choose it. The most successful ex-
pedient has ever been. found to prevail on her favourite lover
(for she always has one) to place himself in the centre of
the pit or the front box, and if they are on good terms, which
is seldom the case, she will address her tender airs to him,
and exert herself to the utmost." This, however, did not
always succeed. The Viceroy, (of Naples,) who is fond of
music, has tried every method with her to no purpose. Some
time ago he gave a great dinner to the principal nobility of
Palermo, and sent an invitation to Gabrielli to be of the
party. Every other person arrived at the hour of invitation.
The Viceroy ordered the dinner to be put back, and sent to
let her know the company waited her. The messenger found
he reading in bed. She said she was sorry for having made
the company wait, and begged that he would make her
apology, but that really she had entirely forgot her engage-
ment. This was forgiven, but at last she carried her wilful-
ness so far that the viceroy sent her to prison. There she
gave magnificent feasts, released the debtors, and distributed
large sums in charity. At length the viceroy gave up the
struggle, and released her, amidst the acclamations of the
people.—Houctrtli's Memoirs of the Musical Drama.
JOURNEY FROM BUENOS AYRRS TO SANTA FE.—Consider,
now, the extent of country I had travailed over, and ask me
what, in all its length and breadth, I saw ? After I left
Luxan, I saw two miserable villages, called Areco and
Arrecife ; I saw three small towns, called San Pedro, San
Nicolas, and the Rosario. containing each from five hundred
to eight hundred inhabitants ; I saw one convent, called
San Lorenzo, containing about twenty monks; and I saw

also the post-house huts.—l
saw thistles higher than the horse
with the rider on his back; here and there a few clumps of
the algarroba tree, long grass, innumerable herds of cattle,
wild and tame deer, and ostriches bounding over the plain,
bearded biscachas (a sort of rabbit) coming out at evening
by groups from their thousand burrows which intersect the
country; now the whirring partridge flying from under my
horses' feet, and anon the little mailed armadillo making
haste to get out of the way. Every now and then I came
within sight of the splendid Parana. The town of Rosario
is situated on a high precipitous bank which overlooks the
river. But its broad, pellucid surface was undisturbed by
any bark; its magnificent waters glided down in all the ma-
jesty, but all the seclusion, of nature; for here man has left
her almost to herself. I saw a stream two miles broad and
ten feet deep at the place from which I surveyed it; and
that place was one hundred and eighty miles from the mouth
of the Plate, and two thousand from it source. There was
no cataract to impede navigation; no savages sought to in-
terrupt traffic, or required to be driven from the banks. The
land on both sides was as fertile as nature could make it;
and offered the impediment of neither wood nor stones to the
plough. The climate*was most salubrious, and the soil had
been in undisturbed possession of a 'European power for
three hundred years. Yet all was still as the grave.—Robert-
son's Letters on Paraguay.

HOW TO CLEAR GARDENS OF INSECTS.—Every amateur
conversant with the management of a garden, however small,
has experienced more or less annoyance from the maraud-
ing depredations of slugs. Their intrusions being generally
committed in the night, or moist rainy weather, they rite
more difficult to detect. Traps, such as cabbage leaves, are
sometimes strewed over the ground, under which the slugs
are decoyed, so that when the leaves are removed, they may
readily he destroyed; so far, this answers the purpose 'toler-
ably well; but the following is the plan which, after. many
trials, I find attended with the least trouble and expense.
Take a handful or„rtwo of decayed vegetable tops of any
kind, pea or bean halm I generally prefer : this is laid
down at short intervals throughout my beds or quarters,
especially in the kitchen-garden, atnongst recently planted
crops of greens, saladings, &c The decayed weeds, or pea
halm, are shifted about a yard or so every morning, and the
place where it lay watered with lime water, a very small por-
tion of which will quite destroy both slugs and worms. It
may be well to observe, that any kind of vegetable substance
in a decayed state will answer quite as well as pea or bean
halm. In the flower garden I frequently cut down some of
the herbaceous or annual plants that require it, and are
nearest at hand, en a flat branch of a tree when very full of
leaves; and this will generally last a week or ten days.
Lime water I find to be a most essential thing, not only for
slugs and worms, for the destruction of which it is of incal-
culable value. I frequently apply it on my grass sward,
among the flower beds, and for plants in pots, also to box
edging in the kitchen garden; and since I applied this
freely, I have suffered but little from insects of any kind.—
Fluricul!ural Magazine.

ABSURDITIES OF HUMAN LIFE.—To be passionate in your
family, and expect them to be placid. To buy a ticket in
the lottery. To salute your most intimate friend when he is
walking with any great man. To think every one a man of
spirit who fights a duel. To pronounce those the most pious
who never absent themselves from church. Not to be pro-
fuundly deferential to a quarrelsome man. To expect punc-
tuality from an idle man. In a severe paroxysm of gout, you
determine never to commit excess again. To praise a wo-
man's complexion before you have washed her face, or her
figure before you have taken off her gown. To think for
yourself, and declare your opinions in every society you fre-
quent. To congratulate a hypochondriac on his good looks.
fo tell a confirmed beauty that she looks much better than
she did the last season. To praise a daughter just come out
in the presence of her handsome mother of five-and-thirty
To give advice to, or argue with a fool. To occupy the at-
tention of a large company by the recital of an occurrence
interesting to yourself alone. To take advice of a man who
has always mismanaged his own affairs. To desire a postboy
in Wales to drive faster. To allow great actors the privilege
of new-modelling the language, and of pronouncing it ridi-
culously. To expect that your friends will remember you
after you have thought proper to forget them. To compose a
speech for parliament, get it carefully by heart, and expect to
be estemed a great orator. To call for bed-chamber candles
at twelve o'clock, and remark to your friend on a visit that
you forgot to ask him if he ever took supper. Not to wear a
great coat when our joints are aching with rheumatism, lest
you should he thought delicate. Fasting on turbot and lobster
sauce. You cannot keep your own secret, and expect that
anotaer should do so for you. You flatter the passions of the
populace, and expect to be popular all your life. To sub-
scribe to any indefatigable collector for public charities, who
has no visible means of subsistence. Not to drink when you
are thirsty, or eat when you are hungry. To give any man
wise iu his own conceit, or superior to you in life, a candid
opinion when he asks your advice. To fancy yourself a poet
because you can write verses. Not to flatter the weaknesses
of every man trom whom yon want a favour. The daughters
of poor curates and farmers playing on the piano-torte and
reading French novels. To live fifty years, and be surprised
at any thing.
CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LIFE.—To give yolf entire satis-
faction 1 must, I perceive, enter into the discussion of a sub-
ject on which I have often thought. My thoughts were my
own, and being su different from the ideas entertained among
your people, 1 should certainly have carried them with me to
the grave, had I not received your obliging favour. . You ask
me, then, whether in my opinion civilization is favourable to
human happiness? In answer to the question, it may be an-
swered, that there arc degrees of civilization, from Cannibals
to the most polite of European nations. The question is not,
then, whether a degree of refinement is not conducive to hap-
piness; but whether you, or the nativesof this land, have
ob-
tained this happy medium. On this subject we are at present,
I presume, of very different opinions. You will, however,
allow me in some respects to have had the advantage of yini
in forming my sentiments. I was, Sir, born of Indian parents,
and lived while a child among those whom von are pleased
to call savages; I was afterwards sent to live among the
white people, and educated at one of your schools; since
which period I have been honoured much beyond my deserts,
by an acquaintance with a number of principal characters'
both in Europe and America. After all this experience, and
after every exertion to divest myself of prejudice, lam obliged
to give my opinion in favour of my own people.' I will now,
as much as I am able, collect together, and set before you,
some of the reasons that have influenced my judgment- on'
the subject now before us. In the government you call civi-
lized, the happiness of the people is constantly sacrificed to
the splendour of the empire. hence your codes of criminal
and civil laws have had their origin ; hence your dungeons
and prisons. I will not enlarge on an idea so singular in ci-
vilized life, and perhaps disagreeable to you, and will only
observe, that among us we have no prisons ; we have no pom-
pous' parade of • courts; we have no written laws ; and yet
judges are as highly revered amongst us as they are among
von, and their decisions are as much regarded. Property,- to
say the least. is as well guarded, and crimes are as imparti-
ally punished. We have among us no splendid villains above
the control of our laws. Daring wickedness is here never suf-
fered to triumph over helpless innocence. The estates of
widows and orphans are never devoured by enterprising
sharpers. In a word, we have no robbery under the colour
of law. No person among us desires any other reward for
performing a brave and worthy action, but the consciousness
of having served his nation. Our wise men arc called Fa-
thers; they truly sustain that character. They are always
accessible, "I
will not say to the meanest of our people, for we
have none mean but such as render themselves so y their
vices. The palaces and prisons among you form a most dread-
ful contrast. Go to the former places, and you will see per-
haps a deformed piece of earth assuming airs that become none
but the Great Spirit above. Go to one of your prisons; here
description utterly fails ! Kill them, if you please; killthein,
too, by tortures; but let the torture last no longer than a day.
Those you call savages, relent; the most furious of our tor-
mentors exhausts his rage in a few hours, and dispatches his
unhappy victim with a sudden stroke. Perhaps it is eligible
that incorrigible offenders should sometimes be cut off. Let
it be done in a way that is not degrading to human nature.
Let such unhappy men have an opportuuity, by their forti-
tude, of making an atonement in some measure for the crimes
they have committed during their lives. But for what are
many of your prisoners confined ?—for debt !--astonishing !
and will you ever again call the Indian nations cruel ? Li-
berty, to a rational creature, as much exceeds property as the
light of the sun does that of the most twinkling star. ut you
put them on a level, to the everlasting disgrace of civilization.
I knew, while I lived among the white people, many of the
most amiable contract debts, and I dare say with the best in-
tentions. Both parties at the time of the contract expect to
find their advantage. The debtor, we will suppose, by a train
of unavoidable misfortunes, fails; here is no crime, nor even
a fault; and yet your laws put it in the power of the creditor
to throw the debtor into prison and confine him there for life !
a punishment infinitely worse than death to a brave man !
And I seriously declare, I had rather die by the most severe
tortures ever inflicted on this continent, than languish in one
of your prisons for a single year. Great Spirit of the Uni-
verse !—and do you call yourselves Christians? Does then
the religion of Him whom you call your Saviour, inspire this
spirit, and lead to these pi acticea ? Surely no. It is recorded
'of him, that a 'bruised reed Ile newer broke. Cease, then, to
call yourselves Cis ristians,lesVyisii pahligb to the world your
hypocrisy. Cease, too, to call other nations savage, when you
are tenfold more the children of cruelty than they.—Life of
,
Joseph Brant.—Thayendanegea, the Indian Chief.

A Ftx.—" Recollect, when you are married you are tied
by the leg, Sam—like one of our sodger disarters, you have
a chain a danglin' to your foot, with a plaguy heavy shot to
the end of it. It keeps you to one place most all the time,
for you can't carry it with you, and you can't leave it behind
you, and you can't do nothia' with it."--Sant Slick's Sayings
and Doings.

BROTHERLY LOVE AND CONDUCT.—Hints for my dear
to be often looked over, with self examination :-
1. Endeavour to bear in mind that you will he often tempted
to be not so kind to your brother as you ought to be.
That you may be on your guard against the temptations
when they do occur.-2. Recollect, if you can, what the occa-
sions are which have most commonly led you to be unkind
to your brother, and keep them in yonr memory by now and
then thinking them over; and when such occasions are about

then be thinbly on yourgua-rd, and liftupYtiur heart in prayer
to God, that you may be enabled to resist the temptation ;
and if you have been enabled to get the better of it, lift up
your heart to God in thanksgiving.-3. Remember that one
season of temptation will always be when you are at play,
especially where there are sides, whether is on your
side or on the opposite side.-4. Remember it is not enough
not to be unkind to —. We ought to be positively kind
to all; but how much snore so to a brother!-5. Remember
you will be tempted to command him too much. Guard,
therefore, against the temptation.—Sometimes reflect that
he and you are children of the same parents. Recollect him
a little fat child, and how we used to kiss his'neck, and call
him Bon. Recollect how you have knelt together in prayer
with mamma and me, and how, especially on a Sunday, you
have sat round the same table with us in peace and love. Try
to place the scene before the eye of your mind, and recollect
how happy your mamma and I have appeared to see you all
good and happy around us.—Life of Wilberforce.
NATIVES oF AUSTRALIA.—My experience (says Major
Mitchell) enables me to speak in the most favourable terms
of the aborigines, whose degraded position in the midst of the
white population affords no just criterion of their merits. The
quickness of apprehension of those in the interior was very
extraordinary, for nothing in ail the complicated adaptations
we carried with us either surprised or puzzled them. They
are never awkward; on the contrary, in manners and gene-
ral intelligence, they appear superior to any class of white
rustics that I have seen. Their powers of mimicry seem ex-
traordinary; and their shrewdness shines even through the
medium of imperfect language, and renders them, in gene-
ral, very agreeable companions. As I was reconnoitring
the grounds for a camp. r observed a native on the opposite
bank; and, without been seen by him, I stood awhile to watch
the habits of a savage man "at home." His hands were
ready to seize. his teeth to eat, any living thing; his step,
light and noiseless as that of a shadow, gave go intimation of
his approach ; his walk suggested the idea of the prowling
of a beast of prey. Every little tract or impression left on
the earth-by the lower animals caught his keen eye; but the
trees over head chiefly engaged his attention. Deep in the
hollow heart of some of the upper branches was still hidden,
as it seemed, the opossum ou which he was to dine. The wind
blew cold and keenly through the lofty trees on the river
margin, yet that broad brawny savage was entirely naked.
Had I been unarmed, I had much rather met a lion than
that sinewy biped; but I was on horseback, with pistols in
my holsters, a broad river was flowing between us, and I over-
looked him from a high bank, and I ventured to disturb Isis
meditations with a loud halloo; he then stood still, looked at
me for about a minute, and then retired with that easy,
bounding kind of a step, which may be termed a running
walk, exhibiting an unrestrained facility of movement ap-
parently incompatible with dress of any kind. It is in
bounding lightly, at such a pace, that with the addi-
tional aid of the " wammerah," the aboriginal native can
throw his spear with sufficient force and velocity to kill
the emu or kangaroo, _even when at their speed,

PRISONERS IN WINDSOR CASTLE.—In the last annual
volume published under the auspices of Lady Mary Fox,
for the sole benefit of the Royal Schools of Industry at Ken-
sington. the Potteries, and Shepherd's Bush, is a record of
" The Prisoners in Windsor Castle" not of James of
Scotland, or of the gallant Surrey, but men of less note, but
whose fate is equally interesting, and who suffered the penal-
ties of being loyal to their sovereign, during a season in
which England was torn by contending feelings. Some of
the faithful cavaliers, partisans,' and friends of Charles I.
have traced with their own hands the records of their capti-
vity in the Norman tower at Windsor; and curious and
interesting information is given concerning the fate and
fortunes of several of these gallant and devoted friends of
the king. The Norman tower is in that part of the castle
which forms the western entrance, between the north terrace
and the keep, and the apartments formerly appropriated to
the captives are now occupied by the state housekeeper.
Various alterations, which have been made from time to
time, have doubtless obliterated many of the sad memorials,
so that there now only remain four tablets on which the
names of the prisoners are engraven. The date in the majo-
rity of casesis 1648, a year fraught wiih disasters to the king.
But there is one name which bears an earlier date—that of
SirEdmund-_Fortescue, who appears to have been an inmate
of these apartments in 1642-43, as a tablet over the fire-place
in a room which commands a fine view of the Thames and
of the distant hills of Berkshire is inscribed as follows:
` Sr...:Edinund -Fortescue Prisoner- lu This • Chamber The
12th Day of Januarie, 1642: Pour le Roy C." The next
room contains inscriptions which were evidently connected—
with the fatal conflict in South Wales several years after-
wards. They bear the date of 1618. The writer endeavours
to trace the. subsequent foitunes of these individuals. The
parliamentary victory of St. Fagons was celebrated by a day
of thanksgiving throughout the kingdom. The estates of
several gentlemen taken prisoners were sold, and the money
given as a gratuity to the parliamentary soldiers. Deprived
of property and liberty, the prisoners lingered in the Norman
tower until death or the restoration put an end to their cap-
tivity. Another tablet is inscribed as follows :—" 1648;
Antho: 13ayly. Pris: the 8. of Septem : Colchesr." Bay's'
was one of the survivors of the memorable siege which Col-
cheater sustained on behalf of Charles. These brief memo-
rials of am age of singular fervour and activity, of changes
of fortune to many, and events fraught with deep interest
to all, are worthy of the chapter devoted to them in Lady
Mary Fox's book.
PERRANZABULOE OLD CHURCH.--As several accounts
have been published of late in different quarters (many of a
very exaggerated nature) of the ancient church which was
discovered at Perraczabuloe about 30 years ago, it may not be
amiss to present the public with a plain account of its present
condition; and as many may yet be unacquainted with the
existence of this interesting remain, we shall state all we
could learn respecting it at a visit we paid it a few days ago.
Much has been said from time to time of this building (fre-
quently occasioning great disappointment in those who have
travelled &din far to see it,) and arguments have been drawn,
from the fact that no vessels having been found in it for holy
water, and no niches for saints, of the ancient purity of the
English. Church. When discovered by the blowing away of
the sand from above and around it, it was roofless, but marks
of the beams in the walls were plainly visible. It had a door-
way, with a rough rubble semicircle arch over it, and an
inscription. which, with the arch_ itself, has since been re-
moved.
This door is near the western end of the southern
wall; and, towards the eastern, is a little aperture for a win-
dow, the rubble arch over which still remains. The interior
was covered with plaster, from a seam in which, about two-
thirds of the way from the western to the eastern end it.is
conjectured a partition or railing went across, about four feet
high, West of this seam, were stone seats round the walls,
and against the eastern end was a small raised platform of
masonry, supposed to have been an altar. The building
measures, outside the wall, 304, feet long and 15M. wide, but
from the thickness of the walls (2 31 feet.) the interior dimen-
Sions are considerably reduced The style of masonry is
singularly rude, the strata of stones being placed horizon
tally, vertically, and at all possible angles with the horizon.
The walls are uncemented; but a kind of earthy mortar fills
the interstices between the stones. A skeleton, said to have
been of large. dimensions (supposed by 'some to have been
that of St.Piram) was found in the church, with the skull
placed between the legs. The bones crumbled with their
own weight, except the teeth; which appeared as perfect as
ever. This skeleton measured six feet from the shoulder's to
the feet. No coffins appear to have been used, as uo vestises
of ally hive been discovered with the numerous skeletons
that have been disinterred here; but in their stead, stones
were placed round the body, or, sometimes, -roof-shaped
over it. The immediate neighbourhood •of the. chola..is
strewed with human bones, whitened by exposure to the
atmosphere, and great quantities-of teeth have been removed
hence from their Jaws, in Which they have remained useless
for perhaps 1000 years, to supply the deficiencies in those of
the present generation.—Cornwall Royal Gazette.

No RELIGION AMONG THE DAMARA& —Amongst the
Damaras the author utterly failed to discover the slightest,
trace of a religion. •` They believe," said the interpreter,
"in neither God nor Devil." Notwithstanding that some'
people maintain that there is no nation on earth withoutre-
ligion in some form, however faintly it may be traced in their
minds, yet, after much and diligent inquiry, I could not dis-
cover the slightest feeling of devotion towards a higher and
,
an invisible power among the Hill Dainartaso;dl?7, I ithaetri.ihead(.l,
they any fear of an evil influence. They believe in nothing
I,,,u‘tve whatge
tthey r see—n"
living Who gives t ghiev es
air—from you your
the
.oseasons'" a'n -
swered-an old Damara.—" Why don't you keep sheep or
goats, that you might live better than you do?" "We have
been afraid of losing them; we wished to keep .them; but We
thought the Boschmans would rob us of them. Now we'
think ourselves strong enough to defend ourselves and our
property against the Bosch:nans, and we must try and get '
flocks."—" When you die, what becomes of you ?" " When:
we die we are buried, and are then no better than the
beasts." —" Are you afraid to die?" " Yes, very much;
and we are frightened when we see people ill, because we
think it may be our turn next—we try not to think of dying."
" Who do you think made the sun and moon, and all you
see about you in the world?" "We don't know; we are a
stupid people; we never think of this. What is the use of
thinking of it? No one ever told us anything about these
things; all we want to know is, where to yet a large animal to
kill anti eat."—" Do you, on any occasion, go to any parti-
cular place, and make an offering there ? For instance, do
you go to a hetip of stones, and throw.a stone on the heap ;
or put a branch on it; or leave a bit of skin on a bush any-
where ?" " No, we never do these things; we are a stupid
people; we don't know or do any thing but look for food,
and dance when we have got plenty."—Sir James Alexan-
der's Expedition in Africa.