The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1854-05-02 00:00:00

POLICE COURT.-YESTERDAY.

--
LEAVING GOODS ON THE QUA.TB.—Several shipowners
and brokers were summoned before Mr. Mansfield, at the
instance of the dock police, for having allowed corn, iron,
and other merchandise to lay on the dock quays. They
were severally fined in sums varying from ss. to 10s. each,
with costs.
PICKING POCKETS.--James Griffiths, a sharp-looking
youth, was charged with picking the pocket of a young
woman, named Margaret Poole, of the sum of 14s. 6d.
The prisoner met the prosecutrix in the street, and she
stated positively that he picked her pocket of the sum
mentioned. He was immediately taken into custody; but
nothing was found on him. His father said the boy was
an industrious and hard-working lad, and had not been
twenty minutes out of the house. The prisoner was
discharged with an admonition.

ROBBING A SAILOR.—Ann White was charged with
robbing a sailor, on Sunday night, of seven five-dollar
gold pieces. It appeared that the prosecutor bad been
drinking to excess in course of the thy, and at night, as
he was proceeding along Park-lane, he met the prisoner,
and went with her to a public-house, where they had some
drink. After this he accompanied her to her lodgings,
where he fell asleep. His money, amounting in all to £2l
in gold five-dollar pieces, was sewed up in a leather belt,
which he wore round his person. On awaking he found
that the sewing had been partly opened, and the money
referred to gone. He could give no further account of the
matter, and the prisoner, who, of course, denied all know-
ledge of the transaction, and who had none of the coins in
her possession when taken into custody, was discharged.
STALING A Prlit3E.—Ann Jones and Ellen liudson
were committed for trial at the Sessions, on a charge of
stealing a purse, containing five and a half sovereigns,
from John Turner, provision agent in Liverpool, in an
.entry in James's-street, that morning, between two
and three o'clock. He admitted that he had treated them
in a public-house.

IL-LEGAL PAWNlNG—SusanMacdonald was charged with
pawning several shirts, a pair of drawers, a blanket, and
some other articles belonging to Captain McNeill, residing
in 66, and
3 l
iacs
'dhoienhaldh,iswahriofe dhiadd sot pdloeynedy theth
prisonere
charge, was ordered t:
It
wchildren dependent on her for their support. They were
spsatLeadfitnheaotft2as. p ori ironerh e haci imprisonedfo
four
for seven days. l
ordered to be sent to the overseer of the poor.
PICKING POCKETS.—Elizabeth Dawling and Margaret
Dunn were convicted of picking the pocket of a lady in
Church-street, near Compton House, on Saturday. Both
had been previously convicted of similar offences, and they
were sentenced to be imprisoned for three months.
THEFT OF EIGHTY POUNDS.—John Teague, Richard
Montley, James Wright, Midget Quoin, Margaret .Quoin,
and Catherine Rooney, were charged with being concerned
in the theft of £BO from the person of Daniel Parkyns,
potato dealer from Manchester, on Saturday last, in the
Ellesmere Hotel, Hurst-street. From the evidence it ap-
peared that Mr. Parkyn, who has been in the habit for
several years of nutting up in the Ellesmere Hotel, was
there on Saturday last, and occupied a room contiguous to
the bar. A man from Manchester whom he knew called
and asked lum in the bar for the loan of 65., when he took
out his purse which contained his money, and taking out
half a sovereign got change for it and lent his friend the
65., returning the purse into his pocket. The prisoner
Teague, who was present, saw where he put the purse.
Soon afterwards, feeling heavy, the prosecutor went into
his room, lay down, and speedily fell asleep. Shortil
afterwards he was awoke by feeling a tug at his clothes,
but he saw nobody. On examination he found hie purse
was gone ; it contained a note for £2O and 38rrviesree.'gri 4
e
besides other money which he could not partic? asaid
that
gave an alarm, and the landladrinunedir TeagueeY and
Teague had taken it. It was proved
Wright had both been in the bar while prosecutoragainst the other
asleep. The only ground for was
prisoners was that they were
together four sovereigns
in the house where they all livedan.d _
right were remanded
were found concealed. Teague
relatives of Teague, and that
for further investigation. The
ofotrhearswne were
eto d afford
sel;
arg
ed .time

THE CANADA, British and North A‘ive.midthefrritocanhme
ustiloulyimallneteri
for the United States and British possessions in North
I merchandise on freight.
11
Agmreaelluroi-casstluo:nPl,B3!dppasHtaais.enlifijaxweamorsne:SanSPtdunreadaysl:ge
cargo
of.
genera
Sornrroar.—On Friday evening last, the Lancashire
Hussars, raised by the late Sir John Gerard, and now
cony
manded by his brother CawpretiotauilnudirFfedotrse.mderick Gerard, arrived
in Southport for eight days' drill. They muster nearly
The eillhee2,adn head-quarters
ti2n:emrsetregoitmilhgeetratilsdiesreevairetteastiln4yeVictoria Hotel, and the exercise
ground will be on the hard beech stretching towards
it made by the con* ta
Liverpool. This is the third vs'
outhport,

MA Y-DA Y.

Coma hither, come hither, and view the face
Of Nature, in all her May-day grace!
By the hedge-row wayside flowers are springing;
On the budded elms the birds are singing;
And up—up—up, to the gates of heaven,
Mounts the lark, on the wings of her rapture driven ;
The voice of the atreamlet is tresh and loud,
On the sky there is not a speck of cloud:
Come hither, come hither, and join with me
In the season's delightful jubilee !

Haste out of doors : from the pastoral mount
The isles of ocean thine eye may count;
From coast to coast, and from town to town.
You can see the white sails gleaming down,
Like monstrous water-birds, which fling
The golden light from each snowy wing;
And the chimney'd steamboat tossing high
Its volumed smoke to the waste of sky;
While you note, in foam, on the yellow beach,
The tiny billows each chasing each,
Meeting, and mixing, and melting away,
Like happy things in the light of day,
As rack dissolves in the soft blue sky,
Or time in the sea of eternity.

Why tarry at home? the swarms of air
Are about, and o'erhead, and everywhere--
The little fly opens its Wien wings,
And from right to left a blossom flings,
And from side to side, like a thistle-seed
Uplifted by winds from September mead;
The midge and the moth, from their long, dull sleep,
Venture again on the light to peep,
Over land and lake abroad they fly,
Filling air with their murmurous ecstacy;
The hare leaps up from her brushwood bed,
And limps and turns her timid head;
The partridge whirrs from the glade ; the mole
Pops out from the earth of its wintry hole;
And the perking squirrel's small nose you see
From the fungous nook of its own beech-tree.

Come hasten, come hither, and you shall see
The beams of that same sun on tower and tree,
That shone over Adam in Eden's bowers,
And drank up the dew of his garden flowers;
Come hither, and look on the same blue sky
Whose arching cloudlessness blest the eye
Of sapient Solomon, when he sung,
With fluttt ring heart and raptured tongue,
"The rain is over and gone—and lo 1
The winter is past, and the young flowers blow.
The turtle coos, the green figs swell,
And the tender grapes have a pleasant smell,
The birds are singing to greet the day;
Arise, my fair one, and come away 1"

Come hasten ye out : the reviving year
As in a glass rashes the past appear;
And, afar from care, and free from strife
We bask in the sunshine of morning life—
The days when Hope, from her seraph wing,
Rich rainbow hues over earth did fling;
And 10! the blithe throng of the green play-ground—
The cricketers cheer, and the balls rebound—
The marble is shot at the rinr—t he air
Re-echoes the noises of hounds and hare—
The perish'd and past, the things of yore,
Come back in the loveliest looks they wore,
And faces, boor bid in oblivion's night,
Start from the darkness and mil: in light !
Come hasten ye hither : our garden bowers
Are green with the promise of budding flowers—
The crocus, and spring's first messenger,
The fairy snowdrop? are blooming here ;
The taper-lean :I tulip is sprouting up;
The hyacinth speaks of its purple cup;
The jonquil boasteth, Ere few weeks run,
My golden circlet I'll show the sun ;"
The gillyflower raises its stem on high,
And peeps on heaven with its pinky eye;
Primroses. an iris-hued multitude,
Woo the bland airs and in turn are woo'd ;
While the wall-flower threatens with bursting bud,
To darken its blossoms with winter's blood.

Come here, come hither, and mark how swell
The fruit buds of the jargonelte•;
On its yet but leaflet greening boughs
The apricot open its blossom throws;
The delicate peach-tree's branches run
O'er the warm wall, glad to feel the sun ;
And the cherry proclaims of cloudless weather,
When its fruit and the blackbirds will toy together;
See the gooseberry bushes their riches show;
And the currant-bloom hangs its leaves below;
And the damp-loving rasp saith, " I'll win your praise
With my grateful coolness on harvest days."
Come along, come along, and guess with me
How fair and how fruitful the year shall be I

Look into the pasture grounds o'er the pale,
And behold the foal with its switching tail;
About and abroad in its mirth it flies,
With its long black forelocks about its eyes,
Or bends its neck down, with a stretch,
The daisy's earliest flower to reach.
See, as on by the hawthorn fence we pass,
How the sheep are nibbling the tender grass,
Or holdine their heads to the sunny ray,
As if their hearts, like its smile, were gay;
While the chattering sparrows, in and out,
Fly the shrubs, and the trees, and roofs about;
And iboty rooks, loudly cawing, roam
With sticks and straws to their woodland home.
Out upon in-door cares I Rejoice
In the thrill of Nature's bewitching voice !
The finger of God hath touch'd the sky,
And the clouds, like a vanquish'd
Leaving a rich, wide, azure bow,
O'erspanning the works of His hand below:—
The finger of God bath toucli'd the earth,
And it starts from slumber in smiling mirth;
Behold it awake in the bird and bee,
In the springing flower and the sprouting tree,
And the leaping trout, and the lapsing stream,
And the south wind soft, and the warm sun-beam :
From the sward beneath, and the boughs above
Come the scent of flowers, and the sounds of love;
Then haste thee hither, and join thy voice
With a world which shouts, "Rejoice, rejoice ! "
D. M. Mots.

REVIEWS OF BOOKS.

Modern German Music, _Recollections, and Criti-

cisms. By Henry F. Chorley. London : Smith,
Elder, and Co.

The author of this really interesting book, which
is in two volumes, is admittedly and demonstrably
a musical critic of great sensibility and much
erudition. Like most critics, however, it is to be
feared he is so wedded to particular theories, and
so committed to expressed predilections in favour
of peculiar views, as to limit, in no small degree,
the public appreciation of his judgment. Fasti-
diousness in estimating musical composition, and a
dainty preciseness in judging of its performance,
forming as they do essential elements in the value
of a critical estimate, are useful in the. highest
degree to one who would lead the public taste ;
but the public must not be held blameable if, while
concurring generally in the opinions expressed, it
nevertheless reserves to itself the right of consi-
dering those opinions as over-drawn, and the dis-
tinctions as tediously minute. If this proposition
be granted, and we scarcely see how it can reason-
ably be denied, we greatly fear that Mr. Chorley,
while acknowledged to be a delicately sensitive
connoisseur and an upright judge of musical art
and practice, will be found a somewhat tedious
expositor of their merits, and a remorselessly
minute chronicler of their defects. The volumes
now under consideration contain charms far beyond
any which can be reached in disquisition. These con-
sist in the fresh picturings and genial colouring
with which Mr. Chorley invests scenes or circum-
stances which he finds it necessary to introduce
into his work. As a painter of scenery, or a deli-
neator of incidents, he is charming ; but as a pen-
and-ink portrait painter, he has few equals. Men-
delssohn was an especial object of our author's
affection and admiration, and in these volumes he
furnishes numerous sketches of the appearance,
character, and habits of the great composer, in all
of which sketches there is a fine artistic keeping,
accompanied by a dash of genial feeling which
render the pictures as charming as they are sug-
gestive. As an example, take the annexed

PHYSICAL AND MENTAL PORTRAIT ON 3IENDELSSOHN:

After the Symphony, a weak and tame contralto singer,
with a profusion of fair ringlets, went through the delicious
arioso in " St. Paul," " But the Lord is mindful of his
own :" and then the conductor, hitherto a personal
stranger, came down to me, and gave me a friendly wel-
come to Germany.
It is sad now to recall the inquiries after mutual friends,
the quick interchange of a musical piece of news or two,
and the unexpected joke (for a joke there was, I remem-
ber), amongst which began an acquaintance soon to be
ripened into indulgent friendship on the one side, and
faithful regard on the other. There was this inexpressi-
ble comfort in all intercourse with Mendelssohn, that he
made no secret of his likings and dislikings. Few men
so distinguished have been so simple, so cordial, so con-
siderate ; but few have been so innocent of courtiership,
positive or negative. One might be sure that a welcome
from him was a welcome indeed.

I thought then, as I do now, his face one of the most
beautiful which has ever been seen. No portrait extant
does it justice. A Titian would have generalized, and,
out of its many expressions, made up one which, in some
sort, should reflect the many characteristics and humours
of the Poet—his earnest seriousness—his child-like truth-
fulness—his dear, cultivated intellect—his impulsive vi-
vacity. The German painters could only invest a theatri-
cal, thoughtful-looking man with that serious cloak which
plays so important a part on the stage, and in the portraits
of their country ; and conceive the task accomplished,
when it was not so much as begun. None of them has per-
petuated the face with which Mendelssohn listened to the
music in which he delighted, or the face with which he
would crave to be told again some merry story, though he
knew it already by heart. I felt in that first half-hour,
that in him there was no stilted sentiment—no affected
heartiness ; that he was no sayer of deep things, no searcher
for witty ones ; but one of a pure, sincere intelligence—
bright, eager, and happy, even when most imaginative.—
perhaps there was no contemporary at once strong, sim-
ple, and subtle enough, to paint such a man with such a
countenance.

---
From the above extract it will be seen that
the
author of these volumes is scarcely less able inhis
analysis of character, or less minute in his intel-
lectual limning, than he is elaborate and painstaking
in his criticisms. His illustrations of scenery are
not less interesting or artistically perfect ; and, as
a whole, few books have of late issued from the
press more likely to arrest and repay attention,
than the two volumes referred to ; they abound in
well-told anecdotes, and are replete with lively ob-
servations upon men, matters, and places of in-
terest.

The Modern Mystery; or Table-Tapping, its
History, Philosophy, and General Attributes.
By J. G. Mac Walter. London : John F. Shaw.
Few subjects have been brought under notice in
modernmoderndays which have excited so general and
spirited." an interest as " table-tapping." The
so-called civilised societies of Europe and America
have been disturbed, distracted, torn by the mani-

festations—phenomena have been watched, investi-
gated, explained—the simple and the learned, the
inquisitive and the apathetic, have equally been
smitten with the singularities of the "manifesta-
tions," and all have equally in vain endeavoured to
reduce them to system, or to demonstrate their
absurdity, but all, as yet at least, without effect.
The strife of opinion between the credulous and
the unbelieving, continues with little, if any,:miti-
gation ; and there seems good reason for believing
that the heads as well as the tables of many of the
disputants have been irretrievably turned. To
account for so extensive and singular a movement
in the public mind has been the object of the
author in publishing the little book under con-
sideration, which forms one volume of Shaw's
Family Library. To say that Mr. Mac Walter has
been successful in elucidating the causes of this
popular excitement, would be to say more than the
truth warrants ; but to aver that he has put forth
a lively and interesting little volume will be proved
by its perusal. It is free from dogmatism, and is
cheerfully constructed. The author professes to
seek truth, and his tone induces us to believe in
the sincerity of his professions.

The Home Companion. London and Liverpool :
W. S. Orr and Co.

Among the cheap popular periodicals of the day,
perhaps no one is entitled to a higher claim on
public attention than the Home Companion. It
is, indeed, a magazine of popular literature, criti-
cism, and the fine arts. Its literary contents em-
brace interesting epitomes of geographical and his-
torical facts and incidents ; pleasing and instruc-
tive works of fiction, and moral tales. It is
copiously illustrated by wood engravings of a high
class, and it is published at a very low price.

Our Friend. A Monthly Miscellany, designed
for all classes. London : John F. Shaw.
The April number of this Miscellany maintains
its character for the variety and general interest
of its contents.

Punch, or the London Charicari. London :

Punch-office.

The self-seeking duplicity of the Russian Czar
has furnished an inexhaustible store-house of ma-
terials, from which the witty staff of Punch draw
jokes and sarcasms of great pungency and spirit.
It is particularly happy in its pictorial cuts at
Russian impudence.