The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1841-09-24 00:00:00

THE LATE THUNDER STORM

Mr. SMITH, being then called on by the President, gave
an interesting account of an examination he had made of the
steeple of St. Martin's Church. From his observations we
concluded that the electric fluid had passed down the centre
of the steeple, attracted by the large bolt which secures the
upper stones, and at the abrupt termination of which an ex-
plosion had taken place. He then traced its subtle and ca-
pricious course down the tower, describing many extraor-
dinary effects which it had produced, especially in the lead
piping. In this it had caused a very curious indent at every
joint, but did not appear to have otherwise injured it.
A very interesting discussion then took place, in which
many valuable suggestions were made. It was remarked as
an extraordinary circumstance, that the costly buildings such
as had lately been impaired by lightning in this town, should
be left without conductors—an omission which in one night
had caused a serious expense to the town.
Thanks having been given to Messrs. Brett and Smith, the
members adjourned to the committee-room of the institution,
where coffee and tea are always provided.

OUR PORTFOLIO.—No. 2

" And nothing is, but what is not."

We have poems on the Pleasures of Hope, the Pleasures of
Memory, and the Pleasures of Imagination; the last by
Akenside, a London physician—an affair in three books, and
in blank verse. 'We attempted to read this celebrated pro-
ductioncpluodeteodetshaptatiitesn
trse.adel rts
ism
ruesetorcdheiedfloyf
hut not being able to get through with it, con-
lit
ha vi
se
learned
a mp
ooentgt
ht the
he was haughty and conceited in an extreme degree, and so
dogmatical in his conversation as to be constantly involved
in one scrape or another. From this we would infer that his
imagination was too lively—too active, and that he indulged
too much in its pleasures to be easily reconciled to the flat
realities of life. The pleasures of the imagination are. doubt-
less, very great ; but, like most other pleasures, they are,
with relation to ourselves, very easily convertible into sources
of pain, unless they be moderately and discreetly indulged in.
This, imaginative power is truly the most wonderful of all
our faculties. It has been remarked that the future is the
only portion of time that we can properly call our own ; that
the past is no longer ours—the present flying from us even
while we speak ; and so it may be said of the thoughts and
the happiness of the imagination ; they alone are ours ; eter-
nal objects cannot deprive us of them • external objects can-
not communicate them ; here mari walks, or sits, alone in a
liberty and an enjoyment of which no tyranny can deprive him.
It is wisely ordained by Providence that this faculty shall
begin to be exercised at a very early period of life. Yon
little fellow who has got astride upon our cane, and rides
about the room so happily, is not as he seems to be, nor.
where he seems ' • imagination has converted that bit of Indian
reed into a sleek and beautiful pony—this apartment into an
open country—and these chairs and tables into a numerous
company. The things present no longer have any charm
except as they are suggestive of things that are not. It is
the same with that little group of girls who dress their dolls ;
while they seem intent only on these inanimate trifles, imagi-
nation is busy, and the comedy or tragedy of life is rehearsed.
Thus early does fancy antidkate, and prepare us for what is
to follow ; and from the very first, we are beings only of the
future, and the fanciful.
It happens, fortunately for the great mass of mankind,
that they are not permitted over. much time for the cultiva-
tion of this faculty • there would be a danger else that the
family of poets and dreamers, already sufficiently large,
would become intolerably numerous and superabundant. The
lives of men of genius, in instances innumerable, show that
circumstances in early life which have favoured their solitary
musings, have proved the cradle of their extraordinary men-
tal powers, and given them that direction, in following which
they have afterwards contributed so much to awaken the
interest of others, if not always to promote their own happi-
ness. Byron and Scott are both instances in point ; both
being men separated by early circumstances from the ordinary
bustle of life, and thrown into those which would inevitably
lead them to converse much with their own spirits. The
faculty previously existed, but circumstances developed its
powers and called them into exercise.
The question has often been mooted, whether this imagi-
native faculty, in what we would call a high degree of deve-
lopement, is a source of greater happiness or misery to its
possessor ? Now, there cannot be a doubt that, in point of
fact, it has proved the latter. As man is " born to trouble,
as the sparks fly upward", a teeming imagination is just a
sure way of adding to his disquietudes. More than half our
troubles are imaginary—imaginary in their causes, but real
enough in their effects ; what then can a restless imagination,
ever on the wing, do, in ordinary cases, but increase our
troubles ? Many persons are exceedingly imaginative, who
are commonly thought not at all so. A miser is supposed to
have no idea beyond his gold, as he seems to love nothing
else, and to be the least given to light fantastic dreams of all
men ; but the man is imaginative in a high degree—abso-
lutely tormented by his ideality. Why did the Roman Api-
emus destroy himself, on finding that he had but 100,000
crowns left ; or the merchant, spoken of by Forestus ? Both
feared that they should be starved, and took this effectual
precaution against so dire a contingency. The miser accu-
mulates either through fear of poverty, or from admiration
of those things which money can procure him—till habit has
so trained him to the way, that he gets on without need of
any renewed impulse ; but an unhappy imaginativeness has
first led him to the pursuit, and continues long to haunt him
in it. The miser is a decidedly fanciful person—a monetary
hypochondriac. Imagination presents to him the horrors of
poverty—great as they are in reality—and the pleasures of
wealth, painted in excess. The picture captivates or terrifies
him as the bright or the dark side is disclosed, and he hugs
his dearly beloved gold as the instrument that can secure
him against the evil, or possess him of the good ; it is ima-
gination, therefore, that makes him not only a miser, but
miserable in every sense of the word.
Imagination has the tendency to increase unhappiness, be-
cause it increases the sources of unhappiness. The fault,
however, is not in the power itself, but in the use which is
made of it. The faculty is in itself a noble one—the true
divinee particulam aurce, or particle of divinity. By it,
while the material body moves not, the whole world is brought
under review—and man looks through nature up to nature's
God. It allies us with the changeful spirits of the air—with
Heaven itself. Whence our " longing after immortality ,if
imagination, having exhausted worlds, had not immediately
proceeded to search for new ? It is instinct of a new being
and an eternal existence in another and a better world ; and
it is rightly and worthily employed when it is used to coun-
terbalance the evils and miseries of the present, by the bright
hopes and glories, and enduring felicities of the future. But
those who thus subordinate its exercise to the dictates of
sound wisdom, are comparatively few, and that which might
be a blessing is converted, for the most part, into a curse.
When the apprentice tailor throws down his goose, and flings
the thimble at his master's head, swearing'profanely that he
has a " soul above buttons" ; or the young apothecary vows,
with histrionic action, that his genius shall not be " cramped
over a pestle and mortar", and suits the action to the word—
we just see how the great majority of mankind permit them-
selves to be run away with by the misguidings of fancy.
Instead of using the power, according to the instructions of
the wise, to reconcile them to their lot, and make them, what
few are inclined to be, content with it, they use it, or permit
it to be used, which comes to the same thing, to the very
opposite end. Hence the sighings and murmurs of discon-
tent at all sides—and the longings unceasing for things unat-
tainable. King David, who was favoured with many earthly
enjoyments, was well aware of the evils of this roving dispo-
position of the imagination, and prayed that his eyes might be
' turned away from beholding vanity". The christian pre-
cept is, to " keep the heart—or the thoughts of the soul—
with all diligence". Under such direction there is great
liberty, and ample scope for the exercises of the faculty,
without danger. Christianity has in no degree clipt the
muse's wing, or curtailed the harmless mirth of nations.
Christianity has purified, not weakened—raised and exalted,
not contracted—the excursive powers of the mind. We put
Milton against Homer, Tasso against Virgil, Shakspeare
against Plautus, and for every ancient can produce a modern
,to contest the palm of imaginative excellence ; but this would
utterly fail to show an intellectual parallel between the pre-
sent christian age generally, and the most refined of ancient
times. What then was rare, is now common. Now every
man is imaginative, and writes. Scribimus omnes duti in-
doetique. From an essay to a novel, from a paragraph to a
poem, from a song to a sermon, we all write—and there is
"no end of the making of many books". The ancients had
nothing like this. They had no leaden types, no printing
press, no periodicals, no newspapers, nor—no penny post.
The fact is, there is too much mental activity in our day.
The brain is over-worked ; and all that we are astonished at
is, how the world goes on so well amid such a teeming mul-
titude of strange thoughts and wild fantasies.

POPULATION OF BELFAST.—We understand that the po-
pulation of the borough of Belfast, according to the present
census, is about 100,000 By the census of 1831, it was
under 62.000 (including Ballymacarrett.) Consequently, the
increase has been in the ratio of upwards of 63 per cent. At
this rate, Belfast is now above Limerick in population, and
within about 7,000 of Cork ; and, in two or three years, we
shall be able to boast of being the second town in Ireland ;
whereas, withing less than twenty years, we held only the
fourth place.