The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1847-06-15 00:00:00

VARIETIES.

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.—It used to .be the fashion
to say that English—our own old cartilaginous tongue, as
a quaint writer styles it—is an unmusical language ; and
even Byron, whose own melodious verses shew the infinite
power and variety of our language, does yet, in one of his
moments of impertinent caprice, describe it as

"Our harsh northern, whistling, grunting guttural,
Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and putter all."
Yet this is most ludicrously untrue. English is, to the
full, as noble and copious a tongue as that " miraculous
language," the ancient Greek, and like it, the appropriate
vehicle to give forth to an admiring world
"Man's towering thoughts in lofty language dressed."
Besides, with the solitary exception of the Greek afore-
said, which is beyond all criticism and compare, it is the
most musical of languages that the children of clay have
ever yet learned to use. That is to say, when properiy and
fully pronounced, judiciously read, or wisely and feelingly
recited. But the fact is, not one in every ten thousand—
nay, peradventure, not one in every hundred thousand of
her Majesty's British subjects, know how and feel how to
do justice in reading or recitation to our English tongue.
Men may learn most things abroad, in schools and col-
leges, but the secret is, to read English well ; the boy
must learn to read at home under the guidance of gentle
and accomplished parents, who know how to read them-
selves, and have music in their souls Read well, and you
will disclose passages to the charmed ear in prose and
verse—in Bacon, in Bolingbroke, in Burke, in Shakspeare,
in Spenser, in Milton, and in a host of others—the leaders
in our mighty literature, which are altogether unequalled
in fervour, grace, and melody, except in the Greek.—
Fraser's Magazine.
JOURNEY FROM THE DEAD SEA.—After having travel-
led about half-a-mile up this horrible ravine, with moun-
tains on each side, the tops of which we could not see, our
guard suddenly halted at the mouth of what may be called
a natural cave. Nicalo, after having had some talk with
them, came to me, and said this was theplace where we
should have to stop all night. I felt not a little astonished,
but not in the least alarmed as to danger, so I jumped off
my horse, marched into the black hole, and began to
grope about. Not feeling anything in the way of a bench,
upon which I might stretch myself, I said to Nicalo, that
there was nothing but the bare ground to lie upon, but he said,
" Never mind, I shall lend you my cloak, and we shall
get the night over very well ;" so he spread down his
rough Arab cloak, and I laid myself upon it, totally igno-
rant as to the state of the ground, whether filthy, or in-
fested with insects or reptiles. Finding that I could not
induce sleep, or in fact keep my head down without a pil-
low, I directed Nicalo to bring a large stone which he did.
I then wrapped his cloak about me, and laid down again. By
this time the guards and muleteer had tied their horses toge-
ther, and given them some barley, and they turned into avail
themselves of the shelter which the cave afforded. When
all had lain down, I told Nicalo to ask them if they knew
the name of our hotel ? They replied, " El Antra." I said,
I do not know how far the name may suit the place, as
an Arabic word, but the first part of it suits very well as
an English name ; for it does certainly give to the mind
such an idea of gloom and horror as I had never had any
conception of—such an idea which we usually associate
with the place of final punishment. I got but little sleep,
as my feet were very cold from riding so long as I had
done, in the night air ; besides this, the horses kept
trampling about among the great stones, and often differ-
ing with one another, so that I was kept awake the
greater part of the night ; on which account I thought
it to be a very long one, and when I saw the peep of day
I felt very glad.—Lowthian's Visit to Palestine.
SUNRISE OFF CONSTANTINOPLE.—The following morn-
ing I was early upon deck. The sun had not yet risen,
and the air was fresh and invigorating ; while upon the
white, heavy, oily sea, was a slight fog, which the breeze
was dispersing in flakes. Around us a quantity of por-
poises were either splashing in the midst of the waves or
floating like buoys upon the surface. The most profound
silence reigned upon the deck of the steamer. Wet with
the night-dews, the half-slumbering seamen of the watch
were seated in a circle near the funnel ; while numberless
Turks, rolled up in their yellow coverlets striped with red,
were sleeping forward beneath the netting : the steersman
at the wheel and the man on the look-out were alone
really wide awake. Suddenly, I perceived dawning in the
east a greenish light, which became yellow as it ascended
in the heavens ; the low and flat shore appeared like 'a
black line upon this luminous back-ground, and by degrees
the sea resumed its azure tint. An hour afterwards we
were within cannon-shot' of the Seraglio ; but, alas ! a
thick fog covered the city. Constantinople was invisible
—and I was deploring the mischance, which was depriv-
ing me of a long-anticipated pleasure, when suddenly the
sun shone out brightly, and the fog acquired, as if by en-
chantment, a wonderful transparency. The curtain was,
as it were, torn to bits, and from all quarters at once
there appeared to my dazzled eyes forests of minarets with
gilded peaks, thousands of cupolas blazing in the light,
hills covered with many-coloured houses, surrounded by
verdure ; an immense succession of palaces with grotesque
windows, blue-roofed mosques, groves of cypress-trees and
sycamores, gardens full of flowers, a port filled as far as
the eye could discern with ships, masts, and flags ; in a
word, the whole of that enchanted city, which resembles
less an immense capital than an endless succession of
lovely kiosks, built in a boundless park, having lakes for
docks, mountains for background, forests for thickets,
fleets for boats,—in fine, an incomparable spot, and at the
same time so grand and elegant, that it seems to have been
designed by fairies and executed by giants.—Blackwood.
CHRISTIANITY THE BEST POLITICAL ECONOMY.—We
already begin to see another field for the exercise of human
energy spreading wider and wider every day ; another ob-
ject, destined probably to supersede the necessity of the
excitement by the love of war and the love of gain, and to
carry on the progress and education of the human mind ;
another war, affording a grander scope for human effort ;
another object, demanding as much activity, prudence,
and reflection as the love of gain : the war against moral
and spiritual evil, conquering the kingdoms of this world
to become the kingdoms of God and of Christ ; that com-
' bat which was begun by him, and has been carried on by
his followers, with varying numbers, and varying success,
to the present time ; but now the numbers of those en-
gaged in it, and their success, are increasing day by day.
Many are making it the great object of gain to win souls
from sin, to produce good out of evil, to carry treasures of
moral and intellectual and spiritual light to the dark places
of the earth, bringing back no returns but the sweet hope
of having been the means of diminishing human vice and
suffering, of having been fellow-workers with Christ. In
the meantime it is well worth serious consideration whe-
ther a stricter application of Christian principle might not
he advantageous in an economical as well as a moral and
benevolent point of view ; whether, instead of the present.
reckless pursuit after wealth, making it the great object of
human energy, more moderation in the desire for it, more
conscientiousness in the means by which this desire is to
be gratified, might not advance individual as well as na-
tional prosperity with a steadier and more real, if perhaps
apparently slower, progress ; besides diffusing the means
1 of comfort and enjoyment among a far greater number, if
in smaller proportions, and saving an immense aggregate
of suffering, not only to those who are crushed beneath
the wheels of the idol wealth, but to those who, in the
rapid race, suffer the alternations of hope and fear, and too
often risk all they have on the most uncertain chances :
whether greater consideration for the moral and physical
welfare of those employed in the creation of wealth would
not produce a greater advantage to the employer, in work
being performed more carefully and industriousl3-, and
with a more conscientious regard to his interest, and a
saving also to the nation of the great waste caused by vice,
destitution, and early death ; whether, in short, for nations
as well as individuals, " godliness be not profitable unto all
things, having promise of the life that now is, as well as
of thaewhich isto come ?"—Sisoiondi'sPolitieakEeonony.
MEXICO.—Of all the cities built by the Spaniards in
the New World, Mexico is the handsomest ; and Europe
might be proud of reckoning it amongst her capitals. In
the midst of terraces, of houses, and of flowers which or-
nament these terraces, rise up churches, with domes of
blue and yellow earthenware ; houses, with bright, many-
coloured walls ; and balconies overhung with canvass,
which gives them the appearance of a constant gala. The
cathedral occupies one side of the Plaza Mayor, and
towers over the palace of, the presidency, a low parallelo-
gram, containing within itself the seven administrations, a
prison, a botanical garden, a barrack, and the two Cham-
bers. The Ayuntiamento (municipality) forms with the
palace a right angle, continued by the porticos of Las
Flores and the Parian, vast commercial stores. The
streets of Santo Domingo, of San Francisco, of Tacuba,
of La 14Ionnaie, and of Monterilla, pour into the Plaza
Mayor a crowd incessantly renewed, always in motion; a
few minutes spent in which, suffice to show you Mexican
society in its strangest contrasts of vice and virtue, of
splendour and of misery.—Fraser's Magazine. •
INCIDENTS OF SAVAGE LlFE.—Many summers ago, a
party of Assinabaians fell on a party of Crees in the nelgli'-
bourhood of the Beatte a Carcajar. a conspicuous knoll
in the neighbourhood of the Red River settlement, and
nearly destroyed them all. Among the assailants was
the former wife of one of the Crees, who had been carried
off from him, in an earlier foray, by her present lord and
master. From whatever motive of domestic memory, this
Amazon rushed into the thickest part of the fight, for the
evident purpose of killing the original husband. He, how-
ever, escaped ; and while the victors were scalping his un-
fortunate companions, creeping stealthily along for a whole
day under cover of the woods, he laid down for the night
in a hollow at the top of the Knoll. But his wife had
never lost sight of him, and no sooner had he, in the ex-
haustion of hunger and fatigue, sunk into a sound sleep,
than she sent an arrow into his brain. She then possessed
herself of his scalp, and exhibited it as her prize to the
victors. The title of the slain savage was the Wolverine,
and the spot is still called' the Wolverine's Knoll. The
Indians assert that the ghosts of the murderess and her
are aita to 1,4; is al Dtr4galiiig vit the height.