The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1853-11-08 00:00:00

Years in the Philippines

Busu ROADS IN AUSTRALIA.—Let me first state what
It may be aptly compared to a geometrical

a straight line, for it is by

ay bets

A road is th(

luriary deceptions. A will-o'-the wisp is something ; a
ship's track through the waves has a transient existence ;
but an Australian road is an abominable nonentity.
When you are told you cannot possibly miss your road,
be assured of the truth of it, for there will be no road to
miss ; look forward confidently to an agreeable night " by
moonlight alone," about which I could "tell you a tale,"
but that I don't like to be talking about myself. What
do you think of the following for a direction ? Squatter,
standing at his hut door, with one arm stretched out
before him, loquitur : " Take that rise on the other side
of the creek, and it will bring you on to an open plain ;
go straight on for about a mile, and you'll see a belt of
timber on your right; make a cut through it till you come

the sun on yc

,f wild cattle

on oeyona tnat tor three miles, 1
`right shoulder, and you'll see a lar

lem on your left, and keep on, head-

ing the gullies, till you come to a camping ground ; there
will be a flock of sheep somewhere in the neighbourhood,
and the shepherd will put you on the right track. You

a creek is different ; not but that some creeks are roads,
and some roads are creeks—nay, I have ridden along a
plain level road that was a river. But, generally speaking,
a creek is different from a road. A creek is an indenta-
tion in the ground, into which, if it should happen to rain
heavily, water would probably run and remain there till
it is dried up. And in this consists the difference between
a creek and a gully ; the gully being more or less on a
slope, the water would not remain in it, but flow down
somewhere else. It is easy to understand, then, what a
creek or gully is (and a river is just the same, except that
you will seldom follow the course of a river for a mile or
so without meeting with a water hole) ; but the difficulty
is to know what is is liot a creek, or gully, or a river. You

may oc tom wa., oauvr p.s.sing two creeks, you win come
to a certain but ; and yet, in your humble and innocent
opinion, you may have crossed a dozen creeks, and not
have reached it. I am not yet deep enough in the mys-
teries to say when a creek (crick or crink; I think, must
be the correct orthography) is not a creek, and a gully (or
gull-ye) is not a gully.—Australian and New Zealand
Gazette.

JENNY LIND'S FAILURE AND TRIUMPII.—The circum-
stances, too, of the failure were singularly trying. She
was announced to appear as Agatha, in Weber's Fries-
chutz, a character she had long regarded as that in which
her ability would be. genially tested. To it her young
ambition had long pointed, and with it her artistic sympa-
thies were familiarly identified. The hour came, and
that wonderful and delicate instrument, that as a child
she had governed so adroitly, that it seemed the echo of
her mind, that subtle medium through which her feelings

had been wont to %up such ready and full vent, refused
to ooey her will, yielded not to the pieaum.gs ur h,.-e
ambition, was hushed as by some cruel magic, and Jenny
Lind was mute, with anguish in her bosom, her friends
looking on in tearful regret, and her maestro chagrined
beyond description ! Where had those silvery tones fled ?
What catastrophe had all at once loosened those invisible
harp strings ? The splendid vision of fame, of bounteous

pleasure, of world-excited sympathy, and of triumphant
art, disappeared like the gorgeous cities seen by the tra-
veller, from the Straits of Messina, painted in tinted
vapour on the horizon. Jenny Lind ceased to sing, but
her love of art was deepened, her trust in nature un-
shaken, her simplicity and kindliness as real as before.
Four long years she lived without the rich promise that
had invested her childhood, but, with undiminished force
of purpose, she studied the art for which she felt herself
born with patient, acute, earnest assiduity, and then
another and blissful episode rewarded her quiet heroism.
The fourth act of Robert le Diable had been announced
for a special occasion, and it so happened that, in conse-
quence of the insignificant role of Alice, consisting of
a single solo, no one of the regular singers was disposed
to adopt the character. In this emergency Berg was re-
minded of his unfortunate pupil. She meekly consented
to appear, pleased with an opportunity to be useful and
oblige her kind maestro. While practising this solo, to
the delight and astonishment of both teacher and pupil,
the long-lost voice suddenly re-appeared. It seemed as if
nature had only withdrawn the gift for a season, that her
child might gather strength and wisdom to use it effi-
ciently, and in an unselfish spirit, and then restored it as
a deserved recompense for the resignation and truth with
which the deprivation had been borne. We can fancy the

rapCurous emotions of the gentle votary that night when
she retired from the scene of her new and unanticipated
triumph.—Tteckerman's Mental Portraits.
THE MOTIVES OF MARY QUEEN OP SCOT'S MISCON-
STRUED FESTIVITIES.—The festivities which moved the
ire of Master John Knox took place just before Lent,
always the close of the court season in Edinburgh during, the

briefgrig—h-t-d-a-y- a- of Mary St-ua-a-'s-w-lci—owi:e-i-gri.- frer-
enter-
tainments in the February of 1564 were more than usually
brilliant. "So soon as her Grace had recovered health,"
writes Randolph, she determined with herself to pass
her time in mirth, and such pastimes as were most agree-
able for that time approaching Shrovetide Her Grace
sent for the most part of her nobility to be here against
Sunday last. She made them so solemn a banquet that
day as in Scotland, in the remembrance of man, except at
the marriage of a prince, or the like, was not seen. Both
the days following were little inferior to the first." The
object of these banquets was neither revelling nor idle
dissipation, but the re-establishment of peace and good-
will between lately discordant powers, on whose union the
tranquillity of the realm depended. A political crisis of
no ordinary interest had occurred. The deep-seeing Earl
of Moray, having formed an accurate estimate of the
popular influence of John Knox and the strength of his
faction, had effected a reconciliation with him during the
long and dangerous illness of the Queen. Moray had
united with Lethington and Mary's other ministers in the
judicious measure of taking her out of a bed of sickness to
expose her to the agitation of a personal discussion with

the most ill-mannered person in her dominions, and then,
instead of supporting her, had championised her adversary.
The affront Mary had received from her Privy Council on
that occasion was followed up by a formal requisition for
her to abstain from practising the rites enjoined by the
religion in which she had been nurtured. Mary, not con-
sidering the thorny, diadem she wore worth the sacrifice of
a compromise of conscience, offered to resign her office to
Moray, and in the bitterness of her heart " commanded
him to take the thankless burden on his own shoulders."
Such was, indeed, the desire of his soul, but the hour. was
not yet come for its accomplishment ; the necessary
arrangements had not yet been made. Queen Mary was
the idol of her people ; affection for her person and vene-
ration for her office were united with respect for her
virtues ; she must be deprived of their love, and painted
blacker than Messalina, ere another would be tolerated in
her place. Moray rejected her offer of resigning it to him,
and craved Permison to retire to his estates in Fifeshire.
Mary granted him leave of absence for eight days ; he
tarried twenty-one, during which he incurred suspicion by
a meeting with his brother-in-law, the Earl of Argyll, at
Castle Campbell. A report was next brought to the
Queen that he had privily
embarked from his own
monastic post of Pittenween for England, and this was at
her
first believed both by and others, the conduct of
Moray, previous to her return to Scotland, having been
suspicions of treasonable correspon-
dencesuch
however,aas
betweent(lwasjustify
u stfhim any suspicions
convinced
rtreaeenMt teary,
England was unfounded, a revulsion of feeling in his
favour succeeded her late anger and mistrust. How could
she doubt his loyalty and love to her, when he had refused
to receive her demission of the crown of Scotland ?
IVArnstniilrP_ she nausea

" u----, ---- '---- wit to examine too closely into
the motives of a negation which appeared so convincing a
test of his honesty. But Moray knew full well his own
position, and that if he would
Sovereign'sgovern Scotland, ;
for how
it must be
would the jealous peers of parliament, whom Mary called
huenrdecroustinhe shadowe
s,bingallofinhis Sovore
-.
or less akin to the royal line,
be persuaded to perform liege homage to her base-born
brother ? and Moray had, as no infant puppet to call et
their monarch,. as a hisy
cloak for own usurpation of the

credntt:::..3wieryh when regal office under the name of Regent. How often must
the poor deluded Queen have marvelled at her own blind-
of her fraternal rival's finely-played game ! True to her
the progressive moves
Nyrasetratel:figrst to seek a reconeilia-
__
generous
ee
ns se r
oa and credulity
nTa

and her brother in the co oetween herself
mmencement of the year 1564.
Without waiting for him to make submissions and sue for
pardon' she graciously extended the olive branch, and
in her affections and her councils. As
wooed him to leave his sullen retreat and resume his
n aggrandisement could
then be effected, Moray accepted her invitation, and she
honoured his return to her court with fates and merry-
makings, to which all her nobles were frankly bidden,
nothingwonthd moreplace conducive to his ow
whether they had aided with her party or his faction during
the late estrangement.—Ming B.trickland's Life of Mary
Queen of Scott.

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