The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-09-29 00:00:00

VARIETIES.

The mine of Scripture is inexhaustible; and from the
time at which it was first opened, till the time when faith
shall be exchanged for sight, Lot one labourer who works
therein, even from the most robu-t to the most feeble,
will remain unrewarded by a participation it, its wealth.
TEN GRANDFATHERS AND GRANDMOTHERS —ln the
parish of Aldhourn in the county of '\ it s, there is now
living a penon named Lidiard, who has five grandfathers
and five grandmothers, viz.—on the mother's side there is
grandfather and grandmother, and each of their fathers
and mothers are still living ; on the father's side there is
grandfather and grandmother, and great grandfather and
great grandmotl.er.

A LESSON FOR PLATE PaEsENTEtts.—A Scottish
regiment, more famous for fighting than fluency, pur-
chased a silver jug for the colonel, and summoned him to
receive it. When all were assembled together, the
spokesman of the subscrihers grasped the " piece of
plate," and said, " Colonel, there's the jug." " Ech !"
says the colonel, "is that the jug !" And the thing was
done.

RUSSIAN POLICE.—The secret police of Russia has its
ramifications both in the upper arid lower classes of so-
ciety. Nay, many ladies notoriously act as spies, and are
yet received in society, and have company at home; even
men who are stigmatised with the san e reputation, are not
the worse treated on that account, and bear their disgrace
with a kind of haughty dignity. There is not a single re-
giment of the guard which has not several spies; in the
theatres, and especially in the French theatre, there are
often a larger number of spies than of mere spectators. In
short, there are so many spies that people imagine they
see them everywhere.—Russia under Me Autocrat.
A. SCORPION.EATER.—In the dollar of the Abides
tribe, Captain Kennedy fell in with a scorpion-eater.
This was a disgusting-looking boy, who, being an idiot,
was looked upon by the Arabs as a saint—deprivation of
intellect constituting in their opinion a high claim to ho-
liness. This urchin bolted, sting and all, a fine lively
scorpion upwards of two inches long—the reptile writhing
between his teeth as he deliberately crunched it. Our
traveller had beard of such explots, but had naturally been
rather incredulous concerning the non. removal of the
sting. In this case, however, he was perf ctly satisfied
that no deception was practiced. The boy afterwards de-
voured another of the same dangerous species of vermin.
He belonged to the religiou4 sect of the Aisaoua, who
claim the privilege of being proof against the venom of
reptiles and the. effects of fire.—Blackwood's Zyla.oazine.

THE " ECRIVAIN PUBLIC."—Who has resided in Pa-
ris for any length of time without becoming acquainted. at
least by sight, with some of those humble temples of lite-
rature which abound in that city, resembling cobblers'
stalls, kept by the very poorest of 'he brethren of the
quill, who announce their calling to the world by the some-
what magniloquent title, inscribed on the little bricks, of
" Ecrivains Publics ?" How many a tale of love in hum-
ble life, how many an intrigue, how many a reputation, lie
at the mercy of these humble and busily employed agents
of illiterate Paris ! They are said to be a class of men
who. though steeped to the lips in poverty, invariably dis-
play the most scrupulous integrity and discretion towards
their employers ; and, according to general report, the
confessionals of St Roch or Notre Dame de Lorette are
not more sacred than the secrets confided to the penman.
ships of these miserable scribes. Their boutiques are
usually found in retired parts of the town, a here a spot of
waste ground, or a friendly gable of a hous?, hffords space
for their erection, without the awkwardness of a demand
for rent. A description of this class of the sons of litera-
ture, so totally unknown to fame, would be worthy the pen
of the Fielding of former days, or the Charles Dickens of
our own.—Fraser's Magazine.

INDIAN MEAL.—There is no sort of grain that can be
turned to so many uses as Indian corn, and with so little

meat than rice ; and there are few constitutio s with which
it does not agree perfectly well. Many persons do not
Pike it at fist, but eventually become fond of it. As food,
Indian meal is very nutritious; it is, perhaps, more
strengthening and wholesome than any other farinaceous
substance. There are numerous modes of preparing it

easy, are pdata

le and exce

ana particularly convenient where close economy is expe-
dient. The nicer preparations of Indian meal are found
on the best tables in America. It requires more cooking
than wheat flour. Indian meal is also the hest possible
fond for all kinds of ptul:ry, pigeons, &c.; mixed into a
sof( dough, with cold water iii summer, and warm water
when the weather is cr,ld. It should be set down to them
in shallow pans, and given twice or three times a day.
When the large fowls are fed with Indian corn in grains,
wetted Indian meal should always be prepared for the
young chickens. If mixed with treacle, to a stiff dough,
it will fatten poultry very fast. I have seen calves fed on
warm mush and milk. and nothing can be better for
them. The yellow Indian meal is decidedly the sweetest
and best, and it is almost universally used in America in
preference to the whi,e, which is comparatively twitelese.
resembling very coarse rough wheat flour. In buying
Indian meal. take care that it is not in the least sour.
either in taste or smell. If there is the slightest sourness
about it, do not attempt to use it, as it is then unwhole-
some, having been kept too long. It will remain sweet
much longer, if, soon after it is brought home, you have
the whole of it sifted at once ti rough a sieve into another
barrel, box, or jar. The lighter and looser it lies, the
better it will keep. It should he kept in a dry and cool
place and carefully covered.—lndian Meal Book.
Homc.—The love of home, the charms of the native
soil,—,he endearments they possess when present, and the
beauty and dignity shed over their remembrance whilst
absent,—these are feelings which can steal into all breasts
without speech or language:—

" 'Tis nature's :oice, and understood
Alike by all mankind."

The patriotic passion is not lost for the want of high civi-
lisation : it often burns most purely in breasts the most
unsophisticated ; and one of the worst lessons high culti-
vation and liberal principles instil, is the disregard for lo-
cal sympathies, under the high sounding name of cosmo-
politanism. The poor Tyrolese is not yet t nctured by the
new virtue. As he ventures from his rocky nest he al-
ready feels at every step the lengthening chain ; and if by
chance, in the melting of his soul, the strains of the Ranz
des Vachea should meet his ear, the flood of feeling be-
comes irresistible, and the poor wanderer has nothing left
but to seek hastily the air and roil of home, or to die. The
sailor, in his calenture, sees every wave transformed to
green trees of his native %Wage. Speak not of the splen-
dour, the conveniences, the comfy ris of home!—these do
not give it the title of " Sweet, sweet hone r' Take it in
alicitv. its nakedness, and its deprivations, but you

its sicn

have not s►epped from its ende,ring charms. Trusting
alone to wealth, Horace could find himself only a splen-
did beggar,—

" Magnus inter opes. mops;"
and his praises were reserved tor the simple objects of
nature,—

" Purse rivns aqua silvaq'•e jngerum
Paucornm, et segetis certa fi:ICE mew,"

because they were endeared to him by associations silent
but powerful. The dying hour dues no, even erase this
stamp of nature, nor can the splendours of the capital can-
cel the rude cot with its magic name. The shouts, that
would at one time have thrilled through the expiring gla-
diator, now move him not ; his heart is occupied in a

rossing theme. What beautiful but indignant
esprei.ions were called forth from the captive Israelites,
by the gush of teeth, w hen their thoughts were suddenly
turned to their own land (Ps. 137 ) And with what ar-
dour dues 'livid cr.,- out whilst returning to his beloved
city :

more t-ng

low the

" Peace be within thytvalls, and p osperity within thy palaces."
—New Quarterly Review.
THE BORE INQUISITIVE.—HE is one of the most teas-
ing persons you can pos-ibly fill in with. All men avoid
him, either instinctively, or from experience; and yet we
defy any one to walk abroad without meeting him. Ile is
everywhere; and were you at night to compare notes with
balf.a-dozen of your intimate trends, who, as well as
yourself, know him, or ratter are kniiwn of him, all at one
period or other of the day, in public square or private
lane, in the green meadow or by the sea-shore, have been
fated to encounter the bore inquispive. All regard him
as a perfect pest, and no one ever dared say so to his lace.
A bore of this kind is generally a middle-aged, respecta-
ble-looking man, who limps slightly, uses a cane, and
makes slow progress. He is staid, temperate, and rnsy..

cheeked ; he is; moreover, well to do, calm and unruffled
in his deportment; and when he comes up to shake hands
and to victimise you, you cannot for your lile offer any re-
sistance. His small, blue, unmeaning eye, has a fascinat.
ing influence which you can neither describe nor avoid.
" lie holds" you with it until he has wrenched and wrung
your inmost soul. He asks question alter question, and
yet never seems to care for your answer. When you are
beginning to give him the necess-ry amount of infornia-
tion on a topic he just seemed anxious to know about, he
stops you with a query respecting the age of your grand-
mother; and while you are returning a somewhat micer-
tain and hesitating response, he will ask you as suddenly
what you regard as likely to be the ultimate fate of the last
ministerial measure. But this is not the worst of the
matter; the wretch not uotrequently tortures you with
questions in reference to affairs connected with your own
or the private history of your trienes. in a manner so pro-
vokingly calm and cool, that though you f el he deserves
to be knocked down with the umbrella you are carrying,
you cannot avoid standing, and though blushir,g and per-
spiring with agonised feeling, endeavour to give him all
the in'ormation you can stammer out. You are possibly
residing at your father's, out of a situation for the present,
and you must be pestered with inquiries as to what made
you leave your old one. He hears you have been ill used,
and wishes, out of the love he bears you, to get particu-
lars. While you are endeavouring to explain, he cuts you

In.:, WI Al al, ,•••••• •••
short, by expressing his sorrow to learn that your brother
ailure
lust
week
venture;and
a
Thomas made such an unexpected t
when, to gratify his curiosity, you are about to
guess 114 to what he is likely to allow his creditors per
pound, he stops your mouth by ,egretting to bear of the
delicate health of your .sister Jane, who has been hut re-
cently married, and asks whether there is any truth in the
report that her husband is given to the bottle. You are
about to reply, but his small, calm eve now espies another
victim advancing un the road, and bidding you good day,
he crosses over to him, and as you make your escape. you
heave a sigh for him who is now caught by "the button."
—Hogg's Weekly Instructor.