The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1854-05-09 00:00:00

VARIETIES.

A SrATEs3rix.—One master of a well-regulated house
is more beneficial to the state than a hundred political

declaimers.
MEEKNESB.—A boy was asked what meekness was. He
thought a moment, and said—" Meekness gives smooth
answers to rough questions."
To MAKE A YOU'D(} Lint HAPPY.—Give her two
canary birds, half a dozen moonbeams, twelve yards of
silk, an ice cream, several rosebuds, a squeeze of the hand,
and the promise of a new bonnet. If she don't melt it will
be because she can't.
Alf InisnmAN, who was early one morning busily
engaged in sweeping the shop of a cheesemonger, was
interrupted by a voice from au inner room, saying, " Well,
what are you doing—are you sweeping out the shop?"—
" No (replied Pat), I am sweeping out the dirt, and leav-

ing the ;hop,"
THE REV. MR. JOHNSON was one of those rough but
quaint preachers of the former generation who were fond
of visiting and good living. While seated at The table of
a good lady in a neighbouring parish, she asked him if he
took milk in his tea. "Yes, ma'am, when 141 get
cream," was the ready reply.
ODD PROOFS OF POLITENESS.—The following circum-
stance illustrates what Mrs. Trollope might be disposed to
call " American manners." A man one day came to do
business with my father, and, as was the custom among
many in the region, kept his head covered during his stay.
Soon after leaving the house, he remarked to some one
that he had always heard that General M was very
much of a gentleman, but he didn't think so, " for," said
he, " I sat in his parlour half-an-hour or more, with my
hat on, and he never once asked me to take it off!"
DENSITY OF POPULATION —The 624 registration dis-
tricts of England and Wales, classed in an order of density,
range from 185,751 persons to the square mile, in the east
London district, to 18 only in Northumberland. In all
London, the number of persons to a square mile, in 1851,
was 19,375. In 1801, the people of England were on an
average 153 yards assunder ; in 1851, only 108 yards
asunder. The mean distance between their houses in 1801
was 362 yards ;in 1851, only 252 yards. In London, the
average proximity in 1801 was 21 yards; in 1851, only 14
yards.—Cheshire's Results of the Census.
LORD LINDSAY states that in the course of his wander-
ings amid the pyramids of Egypt, he stumbled on a mummy
proved by its hieroglyphics to be 2,00() years of age. In
examining the mummy he found in one of its hands a
trobes or bulbousroot, he took the root from the mummy's
hand and planted it in a sunny soil, allowed the rains and
dews of heaven to descend upon it, and in the course of a
few weeks to his astonishment and joy, the root burst forth
and bloomed into a beauteous dahlia.
THE Brnrsi. PLACES OF oun Poyrs.—lt is not often.
that the grave of a poet's father is recorded, and pointed
Out to strangers. The poets themselves frequently rest
without any memorial of their burial, sometimes with no
remembrance of its place. Chaucer was buried in the
cloisters of Westminster Abbey, without the building, but
removed to the South aislein 1555; Spenser lies near him.
Beaumont, Drayton, Cowley, Denham, Dryden, Rowe, Ad-
dison, Prior, Congreve, Gay, Johnson, Sheridan, and Camp-
bell, all lie within Westminster Abbey. Shakspere, as
every ones knows, was buried in the chancel of the church
at Stratford, where there is a monument to his memory.
Chapman and Shirley are buried in St. Giles's-in-the-fields ;
Marlowe, in the churchyard of St. Paul's, Deptford;
Fletcher, and Massinger, in the churchyard of St. Saviour's
Southwark ; Dr. Donne, in Old St. Paul's ; Edmund Wal-
ler, in Beaconsfield churchyard ; Milton, in the churchyard
of St. Giles's, Cripplegate ; Butler, in the churchyard of
St. Paul's, Covent Garden • Otway, no one knows where •
Garth, in the church at Harrow ; Pope, in the church at
Twickenham ; Swift, in St. Patrick's, Dublin ; Savage in
the churchyard of St. Peter's, Bristol ; Perna% at Chester,
where he died on his way to Dublin. Dr. Young, at
Welwyn, in Hertfordshire, of which place he was rector ;
Thomson, in the churchyard at Richmond, in Surry ; Col-
lins, in St. Andrew's Church, at Chichester; Gray in the
churchyard of Stoke Pogis, where he conceived his Elegy ;
Goldsmith, in the churchyard of the Temple Church ;
Falconer, at sea, with " all ocean for his grave ; ' Churchill,
in the churchyard of St. Martin's, Dover ; Cowper, in the
church at Dereham ; Chatterton, in a churchyard belonging
to the parish of St. Andrew's, Holborn ; Burns, in St.
Michael's churchyard, Dumfries; Byron, in the church at
Hucknall, near Newstead ; Crabbe, at Trowbridge ; Cole-
ridge, in the church at Highgate ; Sir Walter Scott, in
Dryburgh Abbey ; Southey, in Grosthwaite church, near
Keswick; Shelley, "beneath one of the antique weed
grown towers surrounding ancient Rome ;" and Keats
beside him, " under the pyramid which is the tomb of
Cestius."—Barker's Three Days of Wensleydale.
THE PRESENT STYLE OE FEMALE DRESS.--We are
quite willing to allow that the present style of dress is
much more reasonable, and assimilates itself better to the
figure than any which has been in fashion for many years
past. Still there are some changes which, in our humble
opinion, might be made with advantage. For instance,
why should the ample skirts, which fall in such graceful
folds to the ground, be pulled or gathered in (we believe
those are the technical terms) in all their width round the
waist, instead of being gradually sloped upwards so as to
suit the figure ? We think M. Karr is right in saying,
that if any woman of taste, on undressing at night, was to
discover she was really formed as she appeared to be dur-
ing the day, she would be found next morning drowned in
tears. Why should not the long skirts, that certainly look
elegant in a drawing-room, be provided with means for
shortening them when out of doors ? Could this be arranged
we should then be saved the discomfort of being enveloped
in a cloud of dust worse than a simoom, when walking by
the side of our fair companions, though we might, perhaps,
be sorry to loose the pretty wavy pattern their dresses
leave upon the pavement. We should be spared, too, all
painful doubts as to the love entertained by our ladies for
that quality which is akin to godliness, caused by seeing
them defy alike the consequences to themselves and others
of dust and mud, rather than avoid both, by lifting their
skirts an inch above the ground. As to the bonnets in
vogue we dare scarcely touch on them, though we will
venture to express the charitable hope that our ladies have
more iit their heads than upon them at present.—Fraser
" CUTENESS" OF A YANKEE PAINTER.—A person who
kept an inn by the road side, went to a painter, who for a
time had set up his easel in a town not a hundred miles
from Lake Ontario, and enquired for what sum the painter
would paint him a bear for a sign-board. It was to be " a
real good one," that would attract customers. " Fifteen
dollars," replied the painter. " That's too much," said the
innkeeper " Tom Larkins will do it for ten." The painter
cogitated lor a moment. He did not like that his rival
should get a commission in preference to himself, although
it was only for a sign-board. " Is it to be a wild or a tame
" A wild one, to be sure." " With a
chain, orhwe uir
without one?" again asked the painter. "With-
a chain." " Well, I will paint you a wild bear without
a chain for ten dollars?' The bargain was struck, the
painter set to work, and in due time sent home the sign-
board, on which he had painted a huge brown bear of a
most ferocious aspect. The sign-board was the admiration
of all the neighbourhood, and drew plenty of customers to
the inn ; and the innkeeper knew not whether to congratu-
late himself most upon the possession of so attractive a
sign, br on having secured it for the small sum of ten
dollars. Time slipped on, his barrels were emptied, and
his pockets filled. Everything went on thrivingly for
three weeks, when one night there arose one of those
violent storms of rain and wind, thunder and lightning,
which are so common in North America, and which pass
over with almost as much rapidity as they rise. When the
innkeeper awoke next morning, the sun was shining, the
birds singing, all traces of the storm had passed away. He
looked up anxiously to ascertain that his sign was safe.
There it was sure enough, swinging to and fro as usual,
but the bear had disappeared. The innkeeper could hardly
believe his eyes ; full of anger and surprise, he ran to the
painter and related what had happened. The painter
looked up coolly from his work. " Was it a wild bear or a
tame one ?" A wild bear." " Was it chained or not ?"
" I guess not." " Then," cried the painter triumphantly,
" how could you expect a wild bear to remain in such a
storm as that of last night without a chain ?" The inn-
keeper had nothing to say against so conclusive an argu-
ment, and finally agreed to give the painter Steen dollars
to paint him a wild bear with a chain, that would not take
to the woods in the next storm. For the benefit of our
unprofessional readers, it may be necessary to mention
that the roguish painter had painted the first bear in
water colours, which had been washed away by the rain ;
the second bear was hinted in oil colours, and was there-
fore able to withstand the weather.—Church of England
quarterly Review,