The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-05-03 00:00:00

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD, TUESDAY, MAY 3, 1853.

room table than this beautifully-printed and bound
volume cannot be purchased at the same moderate
price.
Poems. By Alexander Smith. London: David Bogue.
The first work of a young author never, perhaps,
in so short a time, excited so much interest, or so
much joy, as the present. It is not much over
twelve months since the Rev. George Gilfillan, of
Dundee, introduced Mr. Smith and his poems to
the public through the medium of two periodical
publications in London; and already, such is the
alacrity of the press in our day, paeans of praise are
ringing through the length and breadth of the land
at the advent of one whom we certainly believe to
be the greatest poet Scotland has .ever produced,
and who is entitled thus early to rank with the few
real poets of our time—although that is not saying
so much, for Tennyson, Festus, and Yendys, in-
clude nearly all entitled to the name. Mr. Smith,
with the sweet conceits and gentle fancies of our
Laureate, combines (as in various portions of " A
Life Drama ") the dramatic strength of a Shaks-
pere; and, if he applies himself to the due de-
velopment of his richly-dowered mind, we know
of nothing which he may not yet accomplish. There
are more beauties in his book than we find in the
same number of lines in any poet whatever; and
this is saying much for the youth of twenty-one,
who has never been college-crammed, but who we
believe has been from a boy engaged in a mercantile
office in Glasgow. To Liverpool, especially, the
I name of Alexander Smith ought to be endeared.
He has issued from the busy haunts of merchandise;
and, a!glorious witness to the possibility of uniting
commerce and .literature, he has inscribed his
name on the loftiest pinnacle of human fame. He
has sung, too, of our vast cities, and iron-roads, and
the rising-tide of material progress, in poetry which
has all the breezy freshness of old Chaucer's verse;
which overflows-with images and conceits that out-
vie the most elaborate word-paintings of Tennyson ;
and which, at the same time, exhibits the condensed
power of Shakspere. To select the beauties of this
book would be to reprint it all. Our space will only
permit a few extracts, taken at random :

BOOK-WORLD.
" How few react books aright ! Most souls are shut
By sense from grandeur, as a ma❑ who snores
Night-capped and wrapt iu bI nkets to the nose,
Is shut out from the night, which, like a sea,
Breaketh for ever on a strand of stars."
A LOVER'S SIMILES.
"One whose naked soul stood clad in love,
LiAe a pale martyr in his shirt of. Are."
" Passion as it runs grows purer, loses every tinge of clay,
Asfroot Dawn all red and turbid flows the white transparent
Day,
And in mingled lives of lovers, the array of human ills
Breaks their gentle course to music, as the stones break
summer t

THE EARTH.
" Speak no harsh wcrds of Earth, she is our mother,
And few of us, her sons, who have not added
A wrinkle to her brow. She gave us birth,
We drew our nurture from her ample breast,
And there is coming, for us both, an hour
When we shall pray that she will ope her arms
And take us back again."

THE SEA.
"The bridegroom sea
Is toying with the shore, his wedded brile,
Amd, in the fulness of his marriage joy,
lie decorates her tawny brow with shells,
Retires a space, to see how fair she looks,
Then proud, runs up to kiss her. All is fair—
All glad, from grass to sun :"

THE MOON.
"Sorrowful moon! seeming so drowned in woe;
A queen, whom some grand battle-day has left
Unkingdomed and a widow, while the stars,
Thy handmaidens, are standing back in awe,
Gazing in silence on thy mighty grief !"

AIR—A SIMILE.
"Air is like Happiness or Poetry;
We see it in the glorious roof of day;
We feel it lift the down upon the cheek ;
We hear it when it sways the heavy WONiS ;
'We close our hand on't—and we have it not."

A LANDSCAPE.
" Where yonder church
Stands up to heaven, as if to intercede
For sinful hamlets scattered at its feet."

PARTED LOVERS.
" We twain have met like ships upon the sea,
Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet;
One little hour ! and then, away they speed
On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam,
To meet no more."

AN ASPIRATION.
" My soul is follow'd
By strong ambition to out-roll a lay,
Whose melody will haunt the wnrld for aye,
Charming it onward on its golden way."

POESY.
" I cannot draw regard of thy great eyes,
I love thee, Poesy ! Thou art a rock,
I, a weak wave, would break on thee and die."

A POET'S DESPAIR.
" 'Tis not for me. ye Heavens ! 'tie not for me
To fling a Poem, like a cornet, out,
Yar-splendoring the sleepy realms of night.
I cannot give men glimpses so divine,
As when, upon a racking night, the wind
Draws the pale curtains of the vapoury clouds,
And shows those wonderful, mysterious voids,
Throbbing with stars like pulses.—Nntight for me
But to creep quietly into my grave."

THE SENSITIVE SOUL.
" Tis the deep soul that's touched, it bears the wound;
And memory Moth stick in't like a knife,
Keeping it wide for ever."

LOVE OF FAME.
"A star is trembling on the horizon's verge;
That star shall grow and broaden on the night,
Until it hangs divine and beautiful
In the proud zenith—
Might I so broaden on the skies of fame !
0 Fame! Fame ! Fame ! next grandest word to God !
I seek the look of Fame ! Poor fool—so tries
Some lonely wanderer 'mong the desert sands,
By shouts to gain the notice of the Sphynx,
Staring right on with cafes eternal eyes."

MAN AND NATURE.
"Better for man,
Were he and Nature more familiar friends!
His part is worst that touches this base world.
Although tee ocean's inmost heart be pure,
Yet the salt fringe that daily licks the shore
Is gross with sand."

A POET'S FUTURE.
"Ye are my menials, ye thick crowding years_!
Ha ! yet with a triumphant shout
My spirit shall take captive all the spheres,
And wring their riches out."
LOVE.
" OM song that Poet ever chanteth,
Of which the listening world is never weary."

THE PATTERN WIFE.

(FROM THE BOSTON STAR.)

Winnie Winlove is not a beauty, but she has a sen-
sible, loveable, kissable face, which is not only good
looking, but looks good ; and then her dress is always so
neat, her smile so bright, and her voice so sweet, that,
though she would attract no attention at theatre or ball,
she is the dearest ornament of a husband's home.
She is never "caught," call when you will; for her
house, like herself, is the pink of neatness—not that stiff
uncomfortable sort, which makes one dread to use the
polished furniture; but an easy, all-pervading order ;
which seems so natural one scarcely wonders at it. If in
accomplishing this her servants give her trouble, she
does not " fight her battles o'er again" for the entertain-
ment of her husband or visitors. She is not, in the usual
sense of the term—accomplished—does not perform bril-
liant fantasies upon the piano forte, or sing incompre-
hensible Italian bravuras, but she plays a sensible accom-
paniment or dance correctly, with taste, and in perfect
time ; sings an English ballad with feeling and expres-
tion ; and does either when requested without putting on
airs or requiring the stimulus of a large audience. She
has actually been known to play and sing for more than
an hour with no listeners but her husband and family !
She does not dance, but as her husband does and likes to,
she willingly attends balls and dancing parties, where her
observing mind, keen appreciation of the ludicrous, and
genial good humour, find no lack of entertainment. She
does n,,t speak " all the modern languages," but her
English is well worth listening to.
Cheerfulness is her chief characteristic, and promoting
it the happiness of her life. In matters of importance, if
she and her husband differ in opinion, she states her's
calmly, and listens to his reasoning with a mind open to
conviction ; but in trines his wish is her will.
Is she ready for visiting or shopping, and he thinks it
looks like rain, she lays off her bonnet and stays at home.
Is she somewhat tired and indisposed for exertion, and he
requests her to go out, she complies. Has she a new
dress or cap to which he objects, it disappears.
She never wants to read when he wants to talk, nor to
talk when he wants to read ; never complains of her
nerves ; never makes any reply when he hints that break-
fast is a little late ; never objects to his smoking ; never
teazes him to give her new furniture, dresses, &c.,
knowing that when he can afford them he will do so
without being asked. She never looks grum, or calls him
" my dear" in that carefully softened, but portentous
tone, which strikes terror to the heart of the henpecked
husband, when he brings an unexpected visitor to dinner ;
never asks what kept him when he comes home late ; and,
climax of wifely amiability, never objects to his kissing all
the young ladies that visit them.
Her health never compels her to leave him four or five
months every summer to the house-keeping of servants,
and the ennui of loneliness ; or, worse still, the discom-
forts of boarding, and the society of his bachelor friends.
Her children—of course she has plenty—are never
tormented about keeping clean and taking care of their
clothes, nor screamed over and petted when they happen
to fall ; nor paraded for exhibition when they get new
garments, nor scolded or neglected at any time. They
are well governed, well bred, active, healthy and hal py.
Her faults, of course she has some, are mostly those
that lean to virtue's side, and are, in her husband's esti-
mation, amply counterbalanced by the antithetical virtues
of being fond, yet reasonable ; clearsighted, yet confiding ;
wise, yet womanly.

CROSSING THE DESERT.—I was amused at seeing our
passengers, immediately on reaching Alexandria, wind
great white shawls around their bats and hang green veils
over thetr faces. While crossing the Desert, although
the temperature was not above 70 deg. at noon, they per-
sisted in doing the same thing, and some of them even
protected their eyes with spectacles, although there was
no glare that would have made an infant wink. Accord-
ing to their ideas, they were in constant peril of having a
sun-stroke, and catching the opthalmia. 3ly companions
in the van were inured to an Indian sun, and so we threw
aside all fears, and made merry from one side of the
Desert to the other. At the fourth station we stepped
an hour to breakfast. Here we found a spacious two-
story house, with a large dining-saloon, divan, &C., and
an excellent breakfast for thirty persons on the table.
Thera were several neat bedrooms for the accommodation
of persons who wish to make the journey slowly.—Bayard
Taylor'B .Lettert.

VARIETIES.

Dr. HOLMES, in one of his poems, says, " I never
heard a hearty laugh from out a villain's throat."
HUSBAND AND WIFE should run together on an
equality; it is dangerous for either to take the lead.
The most difficult driving is that of a tandem.
LIFE.—As in a letter, if the paper is small, and we
have much to write, we write closer, so let us so learn to
economize and improve the remaining moments of life.
" I never knew," said Lord Erskine, " a man remark-
able for heroic bravery, whose very aspect was not lighted
up by gen*leness and humanity."
- -

- - -
MAN is greater than a world—than systems of worlds.
There is more mystery in the union of soul with the phy-
sical, than in the creation of an universe.
CURE FOR DYSPEPSIA.—CIose all the outer-doors of
a four-story house, open the inner-doors, and take a long
switch and chase a cat up and down stairs till you steam.

FISHERMEN, it is said, possess extraordinary medical
powers, for they never attempt to cure a fish until it is
dead.

" WOULD you like to subscribe for 'Dickens' Household
Words ?"' inquired a sombre magazine agent. " House-
hold words have played the dickens with me long enough !"
was the feeling reply.

LORD BACON beautifully said, " If a man be gracious
to strangers, it shows that he is a citizen of the world,
and his heart is no island, cut off from other islands, but
a continent that joins them."
KNOWLEDGE may slumber in the memory, but it never
dies ; it is like the dormouse in the ivied tower that sleeps
while winter lasts, but awakes with the warm breath of
spring.

- -
AIM HIGH--A writer well remarks that men are often
capable of greater things than they perform. They are
sent into the world with bills of credit—and seldom draw
to their full extent.

AN AMERICAN STUDENT at a German university writes
home :—" A German bed is always a single bed. In the
case where Providence has blessed a man with a wife, the
same custom is adhered to, and the single beds are drawn
lovingly side by side."
WOMAN'S LAUGH.—A woman has no natural grace
more bewitching than a sweet laugh. It is like the sound
of flutes on water. It leaps from her heart into a clear
sparkling rill ; and the heart that hears it feels as if bathed
in the exhilarating spring.
" OPINIONS," said Lord Mauleverer, "are like trees;
if they ran be made serviceable by standing, don't part
with a stick ; but when they are of that growth that sells
well, or whenever they shut out a fine prospect, cut them
down and pack them off by all means."
THE WORD lady is not found in the Bible. So say
various exchanges. Turn to Isaiah xlvii. 5 and 7; to the
second epistle of John, verses 1 and 5; to Judges, verse
29 ; and Esther i. IS, and judge of the Scriptural know-
ledge of the originator of the paragraph.
AN UP-AND -DOWN REPLY.—During the examination
of a witness as to the locality of stairs in a house, the
counsel asked him—" Which way did the stairs run?"
The witness, who, by thcway, was a noted wag, replied
that " one way they ran up stairs, but that the other way
they ran down stairs." The learned counsel winked both
eyes, and then took a look at the ceiling.
HuTros, the Moravian, had the honour of being occa-
sionally admitted to the breakfast-table of George 111.
One morning the King asked him if it was true that the
Moravians married without any previous knowledge of
each other. " Yes, may it please your Majesty," replied
Hutton, " our marriages are quite royal."
THE GROWTH of grace is like the polishing of metals.
There is first an opaque surface ; by and by you see a
spark darting out ; then a strong light ; till at length it
sends back a perfect image of the sun that shines upon it.
--Payson.
" WoNDERrur, THINGS are done now a days," said
Mr. Timmins ; " the doctor has given Flack's boy a new
lip, from his cheek." " Ah," said his lady, many's the
time I have known a pair taken from mine, and no very
painful operation either."
" FELLOW SINNERS," said a preacher, "if you were
told that by going to the top of those stairs yonder
(pointing to a ricketty pair at one end of the church),
you might secure your eternal salvation, I really believe
hardly any of you would try it. But let any man pro-
claim there were a hundred sovereigns up there for you,
and I'll be bound there would be such a getting up stairs
you never did see."
BEHAVIOUR IN COMPANY.—On the subject of beha-
viour in company, Legh Richmond gives the following
excellent advice to his daughters :—" Be cheerful, but
not gigglers. Be serious, but not dull. Be communica-
tive, but not forward. Be kind, but not servile. Beware
of silly, thoughtless speeches ; although you may forget
them, others will not. Remember that God's eye is in
every place, and his ear in every company. Beware of
levity and familiarity with young men; a modest reserve,
without affectation, is the only safe path. Court and en-
courage serious conversation with those who are truly se-
rious and conversible ; and not go into valuable company
without endeavouring to improve by the intercourse per-
mitted you. Nothing is more unbecoming, when one
part of a company is engaged in profitable and interesting
conversation, than that another part should be trifling, and
talking comparative nonsense to each other.
A SUSPICIOUS TRAVELLER.—[We copy this amusing
passage from Grace Greenwood's last letter.]—" In the
evening we ran down to Marseilles by the railway. Our
party filling a carriage, with the exception of one seat, we
amused ourselves, as we approached Marseilles, by manu-
facturing another passenger out of our extra wraps.
Stuffinc, an overcoat with shawls and umbrellas, we

fashioned a portly littic gentleman, whom we made to re-

cline in a corner, grasping a walking-stick, and with face
shaded by a broad-rimmed hat. Wien the ticket master
came, we had the satisfaction of seeing our foolish little
joke succeed beyond our proudest hopes. After receiv-
ing and counting our tickets, he looked hard at the quiet
little gentleman, and said. rather impatiently, Monsieur,
votre billet ." dont, Monsieur,' said one of us. So,
without further ceremony, he seized the oblivious travel-
ler by the arm, and shook him into shawls, overcoats, and
umbrellas, amid uncontrollable bursts of laughter on our
part. The official looked a little dark and suspicious at
first, and made along and careful post mortem examina-
tion of the departed, but finding that he was composed of
no con.raband articles, graciously joined in the laugh,
only protesting that somebody must- pay for le petit
Monsieur.'"—New York Home Journal.

TAHITIAN BEAUX.—Upon the nearest bench two
Tahitian beaux were sitting, who had certainly spent a
considerable part of the morning on their toilette. It
was amusing to see how ingeniously they had united—of
course aided in it by the extraordinary good taste of the
missionaries—the two different fashions of Europe and
Tahiti. In the upper part they were rather brown look-
ing, but worthy members of the Christian and civilized
community, buttoned up in as tight and incommodious a
black dress-coat as is worn in the mast enlightened cities
in France, England, or Germany, with a white waistcoat,
and, of course, white cravat, and really white gloves, their
hair combed and oiled in a remarkably careful and studied
manner ; but the lower man gave the death blow to the
upper, for it was confined, just as if to spite the revered
black dress-coat, and the white cravat, and gloves, in a
most extraordinary red and yellow piece of calico, from
under which the brown naked legs, tattoed round the
calf with the common blue tints, shone out as quietly and
innocently into the world, as if the two black, sharp-
pointed tails of the dress-coat, which looked daggers at
them from behind, did not exist, and no tight pair of
pantaloons threatened their future happiness. Ger-
staecker'sforerney Round the World.
MODERN FEMALE ATTIRE.—It is, upon the whole, in
as favourable a state as the most vehement advocates for
what is called nature and simplicity could desire. It is a
costume in which they can dress quickly, walk nimbly,
eat plentifully, stoop easily, 101 l gracefully, and, in short,
perform all the duties of life without let or hindrance.
The head is left to its natural size, the skin to its native
purity, the waist at its proper region, the heels at their
real level. The dress is one calculated to bring out the
natural beauties of the person, and each of them has, as
far as we see, fair play. In former days what was known
of a woman's hair in the cap of Henry the Eighth's time;
or of her forehead under her hair in George the Third's
time ; or of the fall of her shoulders under a welt or
wing in Queen Elizabeth's time ; or of the slenderness of
her throat in a gorget of Edward the First's time ; or of

the shape of her arm in a great bishop sleeve even in
our own time ? Now-a-days all these points receive
full satisfaction for past neglect, and a woman breaks
upon us in such a plentitude of charms that we hardly
know where to begin the catalogue. Hair light as
silk in floating curls, or massive as marble in shining
coils. Forehead bright and smooth as mother of pearl,
and arched in matchless symtr etry by its own beautiful
drapery. Ear, which for centuries had lain concealed,
set on the side of the head like a delicate shell. Throat a
lovely stalk, leading the eye upward to a lovelier flower,
and downward to a fair sloping ridge, undulating in the
true line of beauty, to the polished precipice of the
shoulder, whence, from the pendant calyx of the shortest
possible sleeve, hangs a lovely branch, smooth and glitter-
ing like pale pink coral, slightly curved towards the
figure, and terminating in five taper petals, pinker still,
folding and unfolding, at their own " sweet will," and
specially contrived by Nature to pick your heart clean to
the bone before you know what they are about.—Music
and the Art of Dress. _ _

FEMALE PHYSICIANS.—" Fanny Fearn," writing in
a New York paper, says :—Just suppose yourself a
forlorn sick bachelor, in the upper story of some noisy
boarding house, whose inmates don't care a pinch of
snuff whether you conclude to die or get well. Suppose
you've watched, the spider in the corner weave his web,
till you are quite qualified to make one yourself; suppose
you have counted, for the thousandth time, all the
shepherdesses, distorted little dogs, and crooked trees,
on the paper:d wall of your room ; gnawed your finger
nails to the very quick, and twitched your mustache till
every hair stands on its own individual responsibility.
Then—suppose just as you are at the last gasp, the door
opens, gently, and admits (not a great creaking pair
of boots containing an oracular, solemn M.D., grim
enough to frighten you into the churchyard), but a
smiling, rosy-checked, bright-eyed, nice little live woman
doctress, yet ? Well, she pushes back her curls, throws
off her shawl (Venus ! what a figure!) pulls off her glove,
and takes your hand in those little fingers. Holy
Mother ! now your pulse races ! She looks at you so
compassionately from those soft blue eyes ; lays her hand
on your forehead, and then questions you demurely about
your " symptoms," (a few of which she sees without any
of your help !) Then she writes a prescription with
those dainty little fingers, and tells you to keep very
composed and quiet (just as if you could), smooths the
tumbled quilt, arranges your pillow, shades the glaring
sunlight from your aching eyes, with an instinctive
knowledge of your unspoken wants ; and says with the
sweetest smile in the world that she'll " call again in the
morning;" and so—the fold of her dress flutters through
the door ; and then you crawl out of the bed the best
way you can—clutch a looking-glass to see what the
probabilities are that you have made a favourable impres•
sion ! inwardly resolving (as you replace yourself between
the blankets) not to get quite well as long as she will
come to see you. Well, the upshot of it is, you have a
delightful lingering attack of heart complaint For
MYSELF, I prefer prescriptions in a masculine hand !
shan't submit my pulse to anything that wears a bonnet !

CORRESPONDENCE.

Letters addressed to the Editor should be accompanied by the
real name and address of the writer, not for publication, but
as a guarantee of good faith ; this is indispensably requisite
in any statement of facts.
The Editor wishes it to be understood that be does not hold
himself responsible for the opinions or statements of his
correspondents.

State for his good behaviour, and every child that is born to
him adds value to the bond. He has acquired a status in so-
ciety which singly lie could never attain; and though the obli-
gation imposes on him renewed activity and persevering exer-
tion, he has his continual reward in the endearing smiles of the
olive branches around his table, who call him father, and crave
his blessing. The sterile soil and rugged shores of England, by
rendering necessary the continued industry of her inhabitants,
has raised her to the pinnacle of national greatness; and in like
manner, there is many a man of standing and 'of substance
who can attribute all lie possesses to the stimulus upon his
energies created by the demands of a rising family. If, there-
fore, a man would rise in the world, let bins perform his
manifest duty to the community, by cheerfully contributing
his share to the bringing up of the next generation, and he
will certainly meet with his reward in a two-fold sense, for he
will not only be a richer, but a happier man.
I trust 1 have shown, though perhaps imperfectly, that
whether considered in a religious or a worldly point of view,
children arc sent us as blessings; and I feel convinced that
they will prove so if accepted as such. should this truth be
made apparent to some who are too apt to look on the other
side of the picture, their attention may not have been called to
the subject in vain. EPHRA