The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-05-09 00:00:00

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'THE OLD CHURCH.
tii wi
too •
tum those ancient walls : time's ruthless sway I felt :
entrained niche was still unchanged wherein my childhood
'!•,:v knelt;
'lnete girlhood's thoughts of vanity roamed from the sacred
'Lt R4rine;
temories—how full and deep !
of mine!
Vaenire that solemn altar my young sister knelt a bride ;
iewed the bridal company with childish glee and pride ;
With wreaths of fairy roses, and tears so strangely springing,
a eDorted down the sombre aisles while marriage peals were
ringing.
ttikd again at that old altar, in the spring time of
vowsyo,
oped in the mystic veil, I heard confirmed my of truth;
...raid bands of young companions, and hand in hand with one
.whose sweetness even then was doomed—whose death-call
forth had gone!
litlthin these sacred walls I knelt, a newly-wedded wife,
With girlhood's smiles yet lingering, and hope still charming
life •
The oldfamiliar faces, that looked good-bye with pain,
slay never gaze on my changed brow, nor I on theirs again.
4nd now within this noble pile, once, once again I kneel—
Father'- 'tis thou alone canst know the pangs thy creatures
feel :
Fond memories are clinging fast; dark shadows claim their
sway;
-"uog years have passed—one vivid dream—since childhood's
careless day.
411 are unchanged within these walls—all as in days of yore ;
4',V so 'twill be in future years, when I shall be no more;
d plaints as mournful as my own, from living lips that come,
Will sound, old Church, along thy aisles, like voices from the
tomb.
Liverpool, let May, 1848. W. P.

!—throng this changed heart

VARIETIES.
._,:We should be cautious how we indulge the feelings even
virtuous sindignation. Indignation is the handsome
ur°,..ther of anger and hatred.—Coleridge.
bilispLicirr.—Out of the abundance of the heart how
'l7dlpeak So few, that I, who love simplicity, would
as Je give up politeness for a quarter of the virtue that
-sirmu'l,,en sacrificed to an equivocal quality which at best
" only be polish of virtue.—Mary Wollstonecraft.
1,...vw•---Her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the
eZtilr ° f the world ; all things in heaven, and all on
and th o her homage; the very least as feeling her care,
e very greatest as not being exempted from her
P°,. both angels and men, and creatures of what con.
whoa soever, though each in different sort and manner,
yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother
of their peace and joy.—Hooker.
AN INVALUABLE LESSON TO STUDENTS.—What you do
know, know thoroughly. There are few instances in
modern times of arise equal to that of Sir Edward Sugden.
After one of the Weymouth elections I was shut up with
him in a carriage for 24 hours. I ventured to ask him
what was the secret of his success ; his answer was, " I
resolved, when beginning to read law, to make everything
I acquired perfectly my own, and n ever to go to a second
thing till I had entirely accomplished the first. Many of
ray competitors read as much in a day as I read in a week ;
but, at the end of twelve months, my knowledge was as
fresh as the day it was acquired, while theirs had glided
away from their recollection."—Memoirs of Sir T. F.
Buxton.
WILL ENGL AND TAKE WARNING ?—Thatbarrierbehind
whose protection the bonds of society have been hitherto
Preserved, and a check maintained upon the violence of
the human heart, and the ragings of the impetuosity of
the human character,—that salutary check which fallen
Men stand so desperately in need of,—now broken down,
and succeeded by wide-spread anarchy and desolation :
ft The mountains cast into the depths of the sea,"—the
high places of authority merged into the chaos of the
People,—revolutionary madness, democratic fury, distress
of nations, perplexity, consternation, and alarm,—these
are the last signs ; we have already seen an earnest of
them in a neighbouring country, and something like the
gathering of the storm in our own. France has had an
'awful warning,—a foretaste of the still wider desolation
that shall be hereafter. Their authority, as such, was
deposed ; the church was turned into a scene of murderous
cruelty; the ministers were driven from their charges, by
the wide-swelling waves of democratic violence,—all
ufengs sacred were laid prostrate,—the decencies of social
11° longer sheltered the weak and helpless,—the sane-
ness e of domestic privacy were rifled, and all were mad-
and reinstated, as another opportunity to hear and repent,
that
guilt nation : and He has warned us? Will En-
gland take Warning '—Extract from a Sermon preached
°Y the Rev. Hugh M'Neile, Nov. 30, 1834.
MARRIAGE BY TELEGRAPH.—The American journals
the feats which have been performed by our British tele-
graPh• It appears that a daughter of one of the wealthiest
Merchants in Boston had formed an attachment for a
._handsome young man, who was a clerk in her father's
-°o,unting house; and she determined to marry him, al-
though her father had previously promised her in marriage
another suitor. The father having heard of the attach-
Inent, fe;gned ignorance of it, but determined to cause it
-f•0 be broken off. For this purpose he directed the young
inan to proceed to England, by steamer, upon business ;
ind the lover accordingly arrived, en route, in New York.
Iu the mean time, the young lady had gained some know-
'eggs of her father's intentions, and sent a message to
'that effect to her lover in New York by the following ex-
edient :—She took her place in the telegraphic office in
„ston, and he did the same, with a magistrate, in the
o,aue in New York; and the exchange of consent being
'even by the electric flash, they were thus married by
ttelegre._
ph ! Shortly after, the lady's father insisted upon
',er marriage with the gentleman he had selected for her ;
nd judge of his amazement when she told him she was
eady the wife of Mr. 8., then on his way to England ;
7ding an explanation of the novel way in which the cere-
t-"°,43' was performed. The merchant threatened to pro-
it against the validity of the marriage, but did not carry
,threat into execution.—Anecdotes of the Electric
tegraph.
vARIETIES OF CRYING.—There is an immense deal to
r learnt in the varieties of children's 'scrying. Not only
fo the judgment of the child's individual character, but
:11. sound instruction in the arts of passion and pathos.
here is a good, earnest, open roar, quickly raised and
spent, which is of excellent promise—the explo-
-71 of a good heart, which clears the air without mud-
Ang the ground. And there is a patient, monotonous,
gne.aring-out snivel, with no expenditure of strength or
which augurs a weak intellect, and one of those
•riable dispositions which provokes you more than a
ili,eidedly bad one. Each of these is an excellent study ;
• 'L.° one to intimidate, and the other to tire ; rarely failing
touching
their age or any stage, but neither of them succeed in
.I'°uching the heart. For this, however, children are
Matchless as examples. There is a depth of helpless,
Prostrate affliction ; sobs and sighs. now hemmed in, now
breaking forth again, with a sobbing kind of back-water
stroke, which one could have imagined the Babes of the
.Wood to have uttered at the very moment they laid down
d breathed'di that ~no heart that breathes with human
could ever resist. And then again, there is a
tpale, hopeless look, with quiet, trickling tears, as if the
ttle heart were driven to the last refuge of self-pity, or
__?(! caught the first glimmering of the meaning of despair,
which is ten times worse :
Most" What is so shrill ns silent tears?"
s children cry, and it is a safe and desirable sign.
:„111,,,e_crY to please themselves, and some to please their
f,,Zfrs• There are only two sorts who abstain, as dif-
-1,1`1"' as light and darkness, though often confounded.
triZ one is the haughty spirit, the other the sullen temper.
neve_rwith gentle usage, and implicit trust, you need
1%74 despair of; the latter, alas ! will tire out the fondest
elan.—Fraser's Magazine.
The4rAt TELEGRAPH IN THE HANDS OF A TROJAN.—
far - two wires between New York and Buffalo—one
- corm'ltnitiks4.llltinications going east, the other west. A corn-
the cation can be made to all the stations on the line at
wish af,Lne moment, or to any single station, at the
seoo the operators. It is highly amusing to watch the
eress of business at the station. Persons wishing to
abbreviationsicas bring them in writing at length, no
„_, being permitted. The clerk counts the
:I.(_upriber of words, receives the cash, and places each slip
71.% a file, from which they are taken, and sent on in the
.2ier in which they come in. The characters of the com-
munications are amusingly diversified. The majority of
extein are business matters, and it is difficult to realize the
nt of the benefit which such a trading generation as
ife New Yorkers derive from it. One gentleman hurried
while we were in the office, about sun-set, exclaiming—
Mr. Wells, can you send a communication to Troy right
off?" " Yes, sir, at once." " Well, but it must be in-
stanter ; I want to send directions to my clerk at Troy,
who leaves the office about this time. If you wait a mo-
ment, he will be gone home, and it will be too late in the
" It will be there in three minutes, sir." And
7,l're enough it was there, and an answer back, " all right,"
./Tolix or seven minutes after. Troy is 330 miles from
:ean'!;110. The order was, to go immediately and charter a
.teal boat—freight as low as possible, but at any rate to
rtter one—put on the steam, have her loaded with a
ii:l° of coal, and dispatched at once. The sharp Trojan
_Probably come on by railroad that afternoon—sold his
a
ge`: t a good price, to arrive by a certain day ; and thus,
his eans of the telegraph, he possibly commenced loading
season", within thirty hours of his leaving home. At the
~udd°,.l the year when navigation is uncertain, when
esti, ", frost may close the canals in a few hours, who can
paitil_e the value of such a facility ? This gentleman
of ee:,' cents, or 3s. 6d. currency, for his communication ;
---A'rse, on such a transaction, this charge was a trifle.
imnecdotes of the Electric Telegraph.
the lolnaAriox.—Colonization has been numbered among
•atid „ft arts: and certainly, when we contrast the order
anc,7envsolemnity with which colonies were sent forth in
ve„T_Ort ivies, when the tumultuous emigration of our own
f.::Te hordes, the sarcasms must a ear to have been
a'iatrirYgeprovoked. Every year numbersPsPufficient to occupy
province are actually pressed out of this country by
th°eveerlt and want. A. common necessity drives them to
oanioesigTant ship, where they meet as strangers—com-
__s .111. misfortune, indeed, but without any principle
....s_snociation, or any superior guidance as to their pro-
`ciZrldgrs. on reaching the colony of their choice. In this
1,673,824 have left the British isles during
twenty years. The average annual emigration
theref
r nre during that period was 83,691. But it has been
1 las; tr
Ys
agy
4thappeid
of late • and last year, owing to the extraor-
.. "arY distress occasioned' by the famine in Ireland and
parts
'lst, of Scotland, the number of emigrants amounted to
ro 0,246
:t; , a number nearly equal to that of the entire popu-
-047,1,11_°f
eLiverpool or Glasgow. Again, not only has the
?vrii t our population covered vast districts in Arne-
, t. it has within the last dozen years sufficed to
.7).P.e with thousands of industrious families the settle-
Zll'lB-°f Port Philip, South Australia, the Swan River,
t:TeeiNew Zealand. This will suffice to show the im or-
-1 "the subject to which we are anxious to directP a
wger shit.
of the —e of public attention. Owing to the shortness
Paasage, and the consequent cheapness of transport

across the Atlantic, the United States and Canada are
the countries to which the great mass of our emigrants
proceed. But confining ourselves to British colonies,
some idea of the emigration question will be conveyed by
the startling fact, that the number of emigrants to Canada
which in 1846, a year of larger emigration than any pre-
ceding one, was 32,242, amoounted in 1847 to nearly
90,000. Such vast numbers, chiefly composed, too, of the
most destitute Irish, going to sea under the distressing
circumstances which marked their case, must necessarily
have baulked all ordinary calculations. But it is impos-
sible to read the accounts of the crowded decks, the
imperfect ventilation, the want of medical attendance,
and the consequent disease and death to a most alarming
amount, without a regret that more care had not been
exercised, or without the expression of an earnest hope
that for the future some adequate measures may be devised
both for the physical and moral well-being of the emi-
grants during their passage out. Some important amend-
ments, indeed, have already been effected by a bill which
has lately received the sanction of Parliament. This
measure secures the advantage of a medical officer for
each ship ; and we would fain see every body of emigrants
provided with their spiritual instructor. Of this, how-
ever, considering that probably not fewer than 300 would
have been required for the Canada settlers alone, we must
confess that we see no immediate prospect. Although,
therefore, it would be chimerical to propose that a chap-
lain should sail in every emigrant ship, yet much good
might be effected by employing a few zealous clergymen
at the several ports of embarkation, for the special service
of the emigrants. It would, of course, be the duty of
such men to visit the ships as often as possible, to advise
the emigrants as to their conduct during the voyage, and
on their arrival in the new country, to bring them together
into classes for mutual instruction and improvement, to
supply them with Bibles and books of devotion, and to
furnish them with letters commendatory to the clergyman
in whose district they were about to settle. If it be said
that the time is too short to allow of a clergyman making
any impression upon emigrants while they remain in port,
it may be answered, that though very limited, the time is
peculiarly favourable to those who can turn it to account.
He who speaks to persons about to leave their friends and
country for ever, is sure to have serious hearers ; and the
impression which he may be enabled, by God's grace, to
make upon their hearts is likely to be lasting. At all
events it seems but fitting that the Church, if she can do
no more, should at least speak words of warning and ex-
hortation to the children who are about to leave her, and
commend them with prayer to the protection of their
Almighty Father. Such solemn words, dictated by sym-
pathetic and affectionate hearts, accompanied, too, where
it may be required. with a parting gift of the Book of
God, and the Common Prayer of the Church, would, it is
conceived, do something to strengthen the religious im-
pressions of the emigrants, and secure their attachment to
the ` Old Country." That such good offices would be
cordially welcomed by the emigrants, there can be no
doubt. The experiment has been tried, and it has suc-
ceeded.—The Colonial Church Chronicle and Missionary
Journal for the present Month (May.)

THE REPEALER'S WISH GRANTED.-AN IRISH

TALE.-IN ONE SHORT CHAPTER,

Nobody doubts that there was hot blood—misunder-
standing—difficulty—at the beginning. It is clear enough,
also, that many arrangements which followed were not of
a soothing kind. Nor can it well be denied ; but stop a
little ! The other side of the question seems to be per-
petually consigned to oblivion. Numbers of people are
in ecstasies with the year 1782. The wildest democrats
of the present day revert with pride to the glimpse of na-
tionality exhibited by Ireland immediately before the
Union. The grand choral of repealers is for a parliament
once more in Dublin. Oh, melancholy, deplorable, al-
most ludicrous inconsistency ! The year 1782 and repeal !
The independence of Ireland after 1782 and repeal ! The
old Irish parliament and repeal ! Plunket—a son of Ire-
land—talked of history being an old almanac. Memorable
indeed was the year 1782. But its trophies were the han-
diwork of the Saxon. Bright may have been the gleam
of independence which succeeded that year. The whole
movement owed character and solidity to great Saxon
leaders. Conspicuous is the fame of those men who pro-
tested with fiery eloquence against the treaty of the union ;
and these were all Saxons. It is very strange, but very
true, that the sinews and loins of the agitation now a-days
are all begotten of Saxon spirit and Saxon freedom. There
is not a letter in the alphabet of self-government—there
is not a syllable in the code of municipal law—there is
not a sentence in the charter of political liberty—of Ire-
land, which is not the lesson, the example, or the boon
of the Saxon. Every thing now that Ireland demands is
an imitation of a Saxon institution. And Ireland only de-
mands these things, because for ages Saxon institutions
have pervaded her soil, and imbued her people. Grattan
and Charlemont are Saxon names. In all the principles
for which these remarkable men contended, no vestige of
a Celtic idea can be traced. Until the Saxon—conqueror
as he was—touched the Irish soil, there did not grow,
blossom, or bear fruit any intelligible notion of social
order, or public liberty. But the gratitude of nations is
not different from the gratitude of individuals. Away
with the Saxon !

Can nothing cure the madness ? Large practical wis-
dom in legislation, exuberant boundless prodigality of
munificence, are equally unavailing. Away with the
Saxon ! But disgust may at length do what force never
could have done. Honest, sober, orderly folks in Britain
begin to cherish strange thoughts. And the wings of
thoughts are words outspoken.
Are ye ready, 0 Milesians ! for such a dawn when it
breaks ?

There was nothing either very bright or very dull about
the morning. Yet not a single human being you met was
inclined even to whistle merrily or recklessly. And was
there, then, silence, over the whole land ? Very far from
it, I assure you. At the harbour of every sea-port, where
a vessel of any size could come, there was a most unmis-
takeable noise. Heavily, steadily, dreadfully, came down
along the rugged stones of each quay the continual tread
and tramp of armed men, who, cold and speechlessly as
statues, marched towards the ships. But there was no
other noise. The officers gave no word of command ; nor
was any command needed. Unbroken as the stream of
the river, hundreds after hundreds, without any clash, or
din, or tumult, passed from the solid land on board of the
floating bulwarks of old England, and without a shout or
a sigh—without a murmur of adieu--without the momen-
tary radiance of of a smile on a solitary face—departed
from Ireland. The Saxons were going. The quick
strokes of the paddle-wheels whitened the waters ;—the
sail bellied bigly to the wind. From Erin the Green, the
Saxons were gone. Then rose from earth to sky—what ?
For many a day thousands of eyes had been gazing at
the bustling scene. At first, the spectacle of such crowds
of all sorts of people going leisurely away with all their
kith and kin, with all their bag and baggage, brought with
it no distinct idea. The first loaded ship which left the
harbour with such a freight took its departure beneath a
shower of triumphantly derisive shouts. And so did many
a vessel afterwards. But people become tired of shouting
at the same thing. Likewise, a constant repetition of the
same thing, which in certain circumstances will destroy
wonder, does in other circumstances beget and spread
wonder. The sameness of the business began to be pain-
ful. Countless throngs of lookers on still choked the
quay : but the gibe was rarely heard ; the cheer had quite
died away. It was incredible how time lagged in its flight.
Suddenly, once more, a stir ran through these gazing tens
of thousands. A feeble cry—more like a cry of pain than
of joy—rang from the discord of the innumerable lips.
Every body was gone, except the soldiers. Of the hated
Saxons, all who lived by the arts or occupations of peace,
all were at length away—men, women, and children. The
soldiers remained till all their peaceful brethren were on
the bosom of the treacherous sea—safer than the bosom
of ungrateful Ireland. The soldiers now went themselves.
It was not an hour or a day, in which that embarkation
could be completed. On it went without interruption.
And the people stood by, and saw it going on. Why was
there not the continuous roar of exultation from moment
to moment, as file after file; regiment after regiment, mass
after mass of the bloody servants of the Saxon sullenly
and silently retreated ? Strange, surely, that it was not
so ! Strange, surely, that there was no whisper all this
time from the bystanders ! Strange, surely, that the by-
standers, as the ships, ship after ship, sailed away with
those very Saxon soldiers, began to turn their regards off
altogether from the ships, and to fling unquiet doubtful
glances one on the other ! The detested foreigner was
gone ;—and was there, therefore, more neighbourly love
among those that remained ?

What ! Erin Mavourneen, is not your emancipation
come ? Why is there no shout ? The Saxons are going.
The quick strokes of the paddle-wheels whiten the waters.
Where is the wean of the ransomed and redeemed ? The

sail bellies bigly to the wind. From Erin the Green, the
Saxons are gone. Then rose from earth to sky—what ?

Ireland is left to itself—wholly, entirely, absolutely to
itself. The repealer has his wish. The sea runs between
Ireland and England—and all that is Irish and all that is
English. The cable is cut. The Emerald Isle is adrift.
No Saxon soldier pollutes her soil ; but not a Saxon shil-
ling glistens in her purse. The British viceroy is no more;
neither is the British Chancellor of the Exchequer any
more—there. Ireland has got its own parliament. Also
Ireland has gdit its own poor. Not a stiver of English mil-
lions now crosses St. George's channel. Not for one
death by starvation now is England or the Saxon answer-
able. Ireland has her own exuberant exchequer. Ireland
pours abundance into the myriad mouths of her famine-
stricken people. Shout, then, 0 Ireland !_shout !

The sail bellies bigly to the wind. From Erin the Green
the Saxons are gone. The sun of repeal is at its noon.
Then rose from earth to sky—what ?
And they looked into the faces of each other with a
dull, blank look—and from earth to sky arose the yell of
wild despair, of irretrievable confusion, and of maddening
perdition.
The repealer had his wish. The cable was cut. Ireland
was adrift—and left to itself. Order, law, justice, peace,
trade, industry, money, prosperity, and—oh terrible truth !
Independence were gone away—quite away with the
Saxon.

And the Milesian republic endured—we blush to num-
ber the hours of its ephemeral and horrible existence.
Everywhere the fair face of the beautiful isle was hideously
seamed with scars of civil war. Everywhere mounted up-
wards the smoke of roof-trees destroyed, and hearthstones
desolated. Everywhere over the surface of the great sur-
rounding ocean boomed the discordant wail of the land
torn by the vultures of anarchy.

Again ! at the harbours of sea-ports there was an un-
mistakeable noise. Over the rugged stones went the con-
tinual tramp and tread of armed men, who, with bursts of
brutal insolence, marched from the ships. The clang of
foreign arms again sounded in the cities, along the plains,
and across the hills of Erin. Ireland had become the
province of a foreign power which did not speak the Eng-
lish tongue. Ireland was that day trampled on by the
iron heel of a new master.

Albion, from its white cliffs, saw the scene. But the
ties had been long broken.