The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-03-14 00:00:00

VARIETIES

THORWALDSEII.—HiS life was a continued triumph :
fortune and victory waited on him, and art was recognised
and reverenced in his person. The life of this happy one
—this triumphal march—may be painted in words, as with
colours. To represent the whole in painting, we should
:sketch three scenes. The first is a Danish beech-forest,
where the king stands before an altar of rude stone blocks,
surrounded by the priests, with a thick gold circlet on his
head. This is the King of Denmark, Harald Hildetand.
His eye sparkles—his head is proudly raised—for the
mighty gods have sworn to him that, after many centuries,
one of his descendants shall stretch out his sceptre from
the North Cane to the southernmost point of Europe—
far towards east and west—and his name shall be re-
corded in the book of nations. See the next scene !
Centuries have rolled by, and it is our own age ; a poor
boy, with a little red cap on his golden hair carries an
earthen pitcher, slung by a cord, through one of the
narrow streets of Copenhagen—he is bringing dinner to
his father, who works in the dock-yard, carving rude
figure-heads for the ships. But observe this child ! he is
the youngest of King Harald Hildetand's race, and in him
the promise shall be fulfilled. But how ? The third scene
will show. The boy has become a man—the yellow hair
white—hut it hangs upon his powerful shoulders in rich
profusion ; around stand noble marble forms—Jason with
the golden fleece, the Graces, the Holy Apostles ; it is the
King of Artists whom we see—the scion of Harald Hit-
detaud—the poor boy, who now as a man stretches his
sceptre in the realm of Art, over the countries of Europe
—it is Bertel Thorwaldsen. It is not the imagination of
a poet—it is reality—which has furnished the subject for
each picture.—Translation from the Danish of H. C.
Andersen, in Dublin University Magazine.
.

" Goon" CIIILDREN.—In contradistinction to the sub-
ject of naughtiness, there is a word we have alluded to
before, which we must ingdire a little into,—one oftener
taken in vain than any other in infant education, and
which, in orr infant recollection, was the enigma of the
little vocabulary. We mean that magic word good. In
children of souse and principle, the vagueness of this term
is most distressing ; implying, as it does, first one thing
-and then another, and nothing long. Sometimes a strong
exertion of the will; sometimes a total abeyance of every
faculty ; now a dryness in the atmosphere, which keeps
their bait in curl; and now a letter by post, or a hamper
from the country, which puts their mother in a good hu-
mour. With us this word is associated with very mixed
feelings. Certainly it was a pleasure, as all rare surprises
were ; but still it always brought nervous misgivings,
and fearful lookings forward to a long future, in which
more would be expected from us, and less on our part
likely to be fulfilled ; for how were we ever to be sure of
being good again, when we never knew how we had con-
trived to be so in the present instance ? From our own

recollections, however,rand much subsequent observation,

we should say that the real maternal beau id‘al of the
term consists in a keen power of discrimination between
the value of a stuff gown and a silk one, accompanied by

general constitutional slowness of circulation. And a
en languages confirms this view. The
the G_erman, artig, polite ;

reference to fore
French synonym is sage, wis

neither Of them in the

least childlike, but balicorre:

.sponding with the quality implied. Every wise child must
know the difference between stuff and silk, and no polite
child would ever think of trampling it under foot. That's

why stories of good children, who are always prudent,
priM, and precise, are so distasteful to children of any
promise at all. They feel the misnomer, and their natu-
ral instinct rises against it.. Parents give themselves
much trouble and their children much torment in trying to
enforce this many-headed term ;. but they may rely upon
;i• • •

, in nine cases out of ten,, a,. good, open, honourable
naughtiness is a far better thing. Where there is realty a
'Pod child, let us watch and pray, for it is a fearful gift to
a parent's heart. We have,, known one--meek, loving,
patient—the uncons

ms pattern of, every Christian vii-
ith a conscience too tender for us weak ones not to

Arend. Oh
qualit

we have given for more of thos,

ties which others take
was good, if you will

much pains to repress ?

;oodnesi personified—too

—Fraser's Magazine,

DEATH.—The time at last came when the
daughters of the Philistines did rejoice, and the daughters
of the uncircumcised triumphed. • Both with his first and
second wife Samson showed 'himself peculiarly alive to
the force of female importunities ; and apt to give way
before the exhibition of female distress. In the former

SAMSON

attempt to extort a secret from him, it is said that his wife
lay sore upon him—in the preseit. attempt, that his soul
was lifted unto death. It looks;a marvellous infatuation
—the effect of melancholy weakness—that he should have
been thus got the better of in'the we of former palpable
designs to give him up unto Ow
,Philistines—evincing the
blindness of passion, and holding Nth a most impressive
lesson to beware of it. T] ~secret came out at last.
God had charged his mother befOre that he was born that
no razor should come upon his head—making this the
condition, whether of the strength which he had naturally
extraordinary visitations and gifts which he
supernatural strength When the Spirit of God
him. He gave up his conscience and his vow
CO a perfidious woman, who on his locks being shorn off
--a process which I cannot distinctly
-nts,, his strength did depart from
-oke out of his sleep was un-
--fines, in obedience to the
were upon him,

1r of tt

came ur

) Will(
understand.
him ; and he,

began

all of 1

dvantage they took of theii

ess—putting out his eye 3
1 forcing him to grind in

I know not if there be any natural con-
le growth of the hair and the recovery
Samson may have repented of his infidelity,
s of strength been
rength was made the instrument
great and signal manifeztation—a triumph
—a vindication of the supremacy of the one
• and, finally, a most picturesque and

nexion between ti

at.of his

r idolatry

and true God

an to the career of a great hero.
recoils from the barbarity of the Philistines in bring-
alind old Samson to make sport of him ; and pro-
.
, one feels. a certain wild and natural
ing ruin which he brought upon
h himself involved in the common
—both men and women--
;peetacle. Thus fell one of
al personages whom Scrip-
own ward to future

aracteristic termir

mi in the av

o full of tl
Dr. Chap

Scripture Readings

SOLDIERS AND M

tobden is

not been tor
en? If we I

where would our mar-
Ped to France instead

of humbling her at Waterloo—and we presume that Mr.
Cobden would have preferred the former alternative, since
he thinks that the Duke should now be preaching forgive-
-ler° would have been our trade, and
)f calico ? Hindostan is an ac-

opened up the mar-
hese commercial evils ? Really

and British

everything to the exer-

m of t

ry power which these

our armaments

to-morrow, we
er: And pray

hould look round ns in vain for

hat does the arrogant upstart
g the honourable profession of a
nable trade ? Does he intend to disgorge
I contumely upon the graves of those who
I of battle fighting nobly for their king and
'e we now to be told that the names which

lud embalmed in our me

Ls as those of homicides
this, and if public scorn
in who can conceive and

f it has c

ticked we may t
lone its work, a

horrid, u

and religion. 0
h epithets, but i

mikmaster, who rears in-
n to their task until the

'arped into early de-

gnus the existence of

.ender fiat

.k of the

THE SONG OF DEBORAH AND BAR AX.—This is and of
the noblest effusions of ancient poetry, and of poen-I:set
to music—sung as well as recited. The willing .help: of
the people is an homage rendered to those who did -offee
themselves—for we find an exception made against certat'n
of the tribes. I cannot imagine anything higher than.tlte
state and sublimity wherewith this Ode of celebration. Is
ushered in, and the effect of God's presence, or ;at
the manifestation of his forthputtings and his poWer; is
depicted. The song begins with a reference to Uod'e
terposal in former times. There is a difference olopitilon
whether the reference is two-fold, embracing both Godle
appearance for his peo:ile when they first entered the 11o1Y
Land, and the descent on Sinai— or whether there be it
reference to the latter only, for which some countenintia
is derived from Deut. xxxiii. 2, which is most intelligible
on the supposition that the approach the Divine •glory
to Sinai was from the east. However this might be set-•
tied there is soon a transition downward to more recetit:'
times—to the days of Shamgar, who effected a like ;deli-
verance to that which called forth this song of celebrati*.
—when the Philistines overran the land and forced the
people into skulking-places. The inhabitants after this
had to retire from the unwalled and unfortitied villages
till the days of our illustrious prophetess—so beautifiilly
designated as a mother in Israel, and which is stilt felt •
and applied as the most characteristic description which
can be given of a venerable matron lull of faith and gii.oti
works, and a signal blessing, by the influence of her ex-
ample, to the country or neighbourhood where she lives.
The ode proceeds in the highest of all poetical strains 0)
its conclusion. The stars in their courses lighting againS4
Sisera is a truly sublime conception. Aleroz was probably
some town which refuses its quota of auxiliaries. Not
can we imagine anything more picturesque, more Ossianii,
than the representatioh of the ladies looking out for the
return of their lord—while the blessin., given upon Jae
indicates a Divine command, or at leasts a
strong and
urgent sense of patriotism in her mind—else it were this
revolting barbarity of an Amazonian. Both the cruelty
and licentiousness of the age break forth in this effusion,.
It were strange now for women of rank to describe, aS,is
here done, the spoils of the war ; but, making allowances
for all that appertaineth either to the country, or to the I
period in the history of the world, this must be confessed
to be one of the most elevated and heart-stirring poems ,
that has come down to us from ancient times.—Dr. Chat:
mers' Daily Scripture Readings.

AN AMERICAN SPORTSMAN.-Dr. Isaac Hamberlin,
worthy man and old citizen of this county, came to hill
death, a few days since, in a most sho, king manner. One
day last week, Hamberlin, with two other gentlemen?,
left Satartia for a bear hunt, and proceeded to Lake
George, where it forms a junction with the Sunflower
river. A short time after they had landed from the boat,
the dogs entered the cane and immediately struck a trait,
and Dr. Hamberlin followed them but a short distance,
when he mine up with them and a very large bear in the
thick cane. Dr. Hamberlin fired at him, the ball 'entering
his head at the upper part of his nose, without doing
much injury other than to infuriate him, and he turned
and made at Dr. Hamberlin.- The doctor endeavoured
to get out of the animal's way, but the cane being very
thick he could run but slowly, and had run but a short
distance when the bear overtook him, seized him by the
thigh, jerked him to the ground, and completely stripped
Dr. Hamberlin's leg of flesh and muscles. By thiS time
the dogs again seized the bear and got him off. Dr.
Hamberlin then attempted to rise but could not, beiOgso
badly torn. He then got out his hunting knife, the,bear
left the clogs, and attacked Dr. Hamberlin the .second
time, and tore him very retch. This time Dr. Hamberlin
succeeded in cutting one or two gashes in the throat of the
bear, but not deep enough to do him any material injury.
The dogs again diverted the attention of the bear from
his victim, and he left Dr. Hamberlin and engaged with
the dogs ; but in a few minutes the bear came at him a
third time, when Dr. Hamberlin made a stroke at hirri,
but the bear seized the knife by the blade, wrenched it frOm
Dr. Hamberlin, and threw it some distance from him,
and seizing Dr. Hamberlin's arm mashed it into a jelly.
By this time the cries of Dr. Hamberlin ought one of.
his companions to the rescue, and he, seeing the awful
situation of his friend, fired, and struck tLebearin •the
neck, which caused the beast to leave his victim and take
to flight; but another of the company coming up it au
opposite 'direction encountered the bear and shot it. Dr.
Hamberlin had his wounds tied up and was then carried
to the boat, to be taken immediately to Satartia, but he
expressed his unwillingness to return without having his
formidable antagonist with him. His desire was gratified
and he and the bear were taken to Satartia, where eri.inent
medical aid was brought to his assistance, but he died on
the fourth day, after suffering during the time the most
excruciating pain. The bear was very large, though poor,
weighing 3401 b. with his entrails out.—Yazoo Whig,
21st of January.
•

INSTINCT IN ANIMALS.-At the meeting of the Lite-
rary Society last week, Dr. Warwick, who was intro-
duced by a member, narrated some curious facts with re-
spect to animals. When he resided at Dunham, the seat
of the Earl of Stamford and Warrington, he was walking
one evening in the park, and came to a pond where fish,
intended for the table, were temporarily kept. Ile took
particular notice of a fine pike of about six pounds weight,
which, when it observed him, darted hastily away. In so
doing, it struck its head against a tenter-hook in a pOst

(of which there were several in the pond, placed to Pre-
vent poaching), and, as it afterwards appeared, fractured'
its skull. and turned the optic nerve on one side. The
agony evinced by the animal was most horrible. T, rushed
to the bottom, and, boring its head into thernudiwhirled
itself round with such velocity that it was almost lost to
the sight for a short interval. It then plunged about the
pond, and at' length threw itself completely out of the
water on to the bank. He (the Doctor) went and exit-
mined it, and found that a very small portion of the brain
was protruding from the fracture in the skull. He care-
fully replaced this, and, with a small silver tooth-pick,
raised the indented portion of the skull. The fish re-
mained still for a short time, and he then put it again
into the pond. It appeared at first a good deal relieved,.
hut in a few minutes it again darted and plunged about
until it threw itself out of the water a second time. A se-'
cond time Dr. Warwick did what he could to relieve 'it,
and again put it into the water. It continued for seve-
ral times to throw itself out of the pond, and with the as-
sistance of the keeper the Dr. at length made a kind of
pillow for the fish, which was then left in the pond to its
fate. Upon making his appearance at the pond on the"
following morning, the pike came towards him to the edge,
of the water, and actually laid its head upon his foot: The
Dr. thought this most extraordinary, but he examined
the fish's skull, and found it going on all right. He then
walked backwards and forwards along the edge of the 'pond
for some time, and the fish continued to swim up and
down, turning whenever he turned : but being blind on,
the wounded side of its skull, it always appeared agitated
when it had that side towards the bank, as it could not
then see its benefactor. On the next day he took some
young friends to see the fish, which came to him as'usual ;
and at length he actually taught the pike to comelo him
at his whistle and feed out of his hands. With other per-
sons it continued as shy as fish usually are. He (Dr.
Warwick) thought this a most remarkable instance of
gratitude in a fish for a benefit received, and, as it,alivays
came at his whistle, it proved also what he had preiictusly,
with othernaturalists, disbelieved, that fishes are sensible
to sound.
BABYHOOD AND CHILDHOOD.—The nursery is a won-
_

derful world, and all that therein is; but llahy'is the
greatest wonder of all. That little separate thing in the'
world,—uncommunicating with others, unremembered by
itself,—that mysterious state of being before the deluge
of memory sets in, lying there, like a harmit in its cell, as
if gathering strength. in passive contemplation for the
world's encounter. Who says that a baby does not think
or feel ? Have they never seen that strange smile break-
ing " through clouds of infant flesh," and then passing
away, as if it caught for a moment the harmonies'of
heaven ? Or have they never heard that stranger sigh—
the first spontaneous language of one who is bornto
sorrow," as it heard from afar the growing jar of this
earth,—incognisant, to our apprehension, as it lies pas-
sively there, either of this world or that, yet stamped by
that very smile and sigh, as the being who stands myst3-
riously between both ? But the noise and uproar have
been too much ! The round lustrous eyes are; wicte open,
which, like the eyes of the Divine Child in shb Sistine
Madonna, seem to look at nothing, in gazing beyond all
things ; and baby is seated on nurse's knee. . There it
sits, the little stranger, who dwelleth so calmly amongst
us, without speech or movement, though brothers and

-low how lit

no model like a lovely baby for true queenly dignity,—the
wide open gaze, the hands' slow Movement, the proud
drawing up if the usual etiquette be transgressed,—re-
minding us of the beautiful lines in the Lyra Innocen-
tiunz

" Why so stately, maiden fair,
Rising in thy nurse's arms,
With that condescending air,

herint up thy queenly charms?

the round, portly &rill, moving slowly to and fro, im-
bedded in lawn and fine linen. And then, when a few

months older, the truly royal impatience of opßosition, the
autocratic air with which the spoon and rattle are dashed

down, the haughty stare if some monitory voice exclaim,
" Baby, baby !" and then the celestial smile, as if to for-
gate you for having been angry with her. We have
dubbed the baby feminine. Babyhood seems so, with its
its softness, its helplessness, and its waywardness,
hof its attributes. But look now at that
gering urchin, with scarcely more than two of

beauty
—ladylike in ea

Noise

gn.of dignity has been succeeded by that of.impudance.
id movement are now his chief eleinent. Up the
hair and down again. If you take him up he kicks and
itruggics; the more comfortable you try to make him the
less he likes it i restlessness is his rest. 'file is not talk-
ing to you, he is talking to himself—stamping, hammer.:

mg, rattling, clattering ; whatever can ineke a noise is
plaything to him. Like another Nero, he wishes all the
bells in the house had but one string, that he might ring
Igether. Nothing but sleep can quitt him, and
the truth were known, he dreams of banging
' chief and courage have begun together ;
y the tail or a bull by the horns; screams to
h-horse he can't stride, and kicks th
) faster; is all ready to fire oft
roil will not let him ; struggles away
n after the shel) ; tumbles down, is
ath full of gravel, and a " Never no
ster John ;" is held double: tight by
way home, with an admonitory chuck,
he'll almost dislocates his shoulder, but
- et into the puddles for all that !
1 right in his start for life, and
a he will give.—Praser's Ma.a.
BE EAST OF SCOTLAND.—The
all morning return about noon,
ho gathered the bait are ready
ry the fish to the shed to dress
nstince, the fish must be parted.
call the take may he, the fish are
each man having his lot determined by a
ppoec, for rxamplo, that the Crew con-

a gun,

I up with a mou

)eace with you,
he maid all the

now and then,

manages to put hi

Bless the child ! he is al

plague
Tii

FlifiEßS AT

and then the wo

with their c
them. In t

I However large or

I in lot