The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-10-15 00:00:00

SHIPPING INTELLIGENCE.

Wind, W. S. W.—Rain.
ARRIVED.
The Amelia, —, from Paraiba.
John Wells, Curtis, from New York, sailed 25th ult.
OFF PORT,
The Montreal, —, from Pernambuco.
hence, at New York.

The Britannia, Sketchicy,
Napoleon, Smith,
General Will: Ha

Victoria, Merrill,

A marriage is understood to he in contemplation between the
bon. Henry Wellesley eldest son of Lord Cowley, and the
hon. Olivia Cecilia De Roos, Maid of Honour to the Queen.
This young lady is second daughter of the late Lord Henry
Fitzgerald and Baroness Dc Roos, in whose favour the barony
was called out of abeyance in 1806, apd sister to the present
lord.

SECRETARIES OF THE TREASUR T.—The duties of the Secre-
taries of the Treasury, although very laborious during the
sess►on of Parliament, are slight in the recess. The separate
duties of the two sect etaties are, we believe, thus defined :
The patronage secretary (now Mr. Wood) is expected to nego-
tiate all that has relation to the management of the members
of the two houses of Parliament, with a vievrto prevent minis-
terial minorities, and to increase majorities. lie has the man•
agement of the patronage possessed by the first lord of the
treasury, and of pecun►ary matters of a secret nature. The
other secretary (Mr. Spring Rice) has the (lit ect control of finan,
vial affairs, the control of the excise, custom- and other
public department.,

Vott'o Comm

TIM BLIND BOY.

r he folloWing: hefintiful lines were written by a gentleman in
Boston, and spoken by one of the pupils of the New-Eng-
laud Institution fur the Blind, at its late exhibition:—
The bird that never tried his wing
Can blithely hop and sweetly sing.
Though prison'd in a narrow cage.
Till his bright feathers droop with age.
So I ; while never blest with sight,
Shut out from heaven's surrounding light.
Life's hours, and days, and years enjoy.
Though blind, a merry-hearted boy.
That captive bird may never float
Through heaven, or pour his thrilling note,
'Mid shady groves, by pleasant streams,
That sparkle in the soft moonbeams;
But he may gaily flutter round,
Within his prison's scanty bound.
And give his soul to song ; for he
Ne'er longs to taste sweet liberty.
And may I not as happy dwell
Within my unillumin'd cell?
May I not kap, and sing, and play,
And turn my constant night to day /
I never saw the sky, the sea ;
The earth was never green to me;
Then why, 0 why, should I repine,
For blessings that were never mine ?
Think not that blindness makes me sad,
My thoughts, like yours, are often glad ;
Parents I have, who love me well;
Their diff 'rent voices I can tell ;
Though far and absent, I can hear,
In dreams, their music meet my ear.
Is there a star so dear above,
As the low voice of one you lore?
I never saw my father's face,
Yet on his forehead when I place
My hand, and feel the wrinkles there,
Left less by time than anxious care,
I fear the world has sights of woe.
To knit the brows of manhood so.
I sit upon my father's knee ;
He'd lore me less if I could see,

neversaw my mother smile ;
Her gentle tones my heart beguile I
They fall like distant melody,
They are so mild and sweet to me.
She murmurs not—my mother dear!
Though sometimes I have kissed the tear
From her soft cheek, to tell the joy
One smiling word would give her boy.
Right merry was I every day!
Fearless to run about and play
With sisters, brothers, friends and all;
To answer to their sudden call,
To join the ring, to speed the chase.
To find each playmate's hiding place,
And pass my hand across his brow.
To tell him—l could do it now !
Yet, though delightful flew the hours,
So pass'd in childhood's peaceful bowers,
When all were gone to school but I,
I us'd to sit at home and sigh ;
And though I never long'd to view
The earth so green, the sky so blue.
I thought I'd give the world to look
Along the pages of a book.
Now, since I've learn'd to read and write.
tdy heart is fill'd with new delight.
And music too ; can there be found
A sight so beautiful as sonrid
Tell me kind friends in one short word.
.Asst I not like that captive bird
I live in song. in peace and joy.
Though blind, a merry-hearted boy I
From the Boston Juvenile Rambler.

PUBLIC DINNER TO JAMES EWLNG, ESQ., M.P.

On Tuesday a public dinner was given to this gentle.
man by his constituents at Glasgow, at which upwards
of three hundred of his fellow•-citizens who approve of
his parliamentary conduct were present. James A. An-
derson, Esq. presided, assisted by Wm. Dunn, Esq. as
croupier. We regret that we are obliged to confine our
extracts to the speech of Mr. Ewing, which we copy from
the Glasgow Herald :—Oa his health beirig drank,

Mr. EWING rose, but for some time was inaudible from the
applause which followed his rising. He said that it had often
been his lot to attend, to address, and to preside at public meet-
ings. On all such occasions he merely attempted to perform
his part for a common object, and to touch, however feebly, one
of the instruments in the general concert. But when he consi-
dered where he stood now; when he ltioked around on such a
display of intelligence, respectability, and wealth; and when
he reflected thapiOthis was to do honour to him, he felt him-
self overwhelniaiingith a sense of his own unworthiness. If any-
thing could adattPthis impression, it would be the kind, com-
plimentary, anilillattering manner in which his health had been
proposed, and'lvefgenerons cordiality with which it had been
received. He spoke the inmost seuiiments of his heart when
he said that he had dine not only no more, but far less, than
was his duty to do; aid that he feared, notwithstanding all his
labours, he was afte• all an unprofitable servant. His first
feeling therefore on tlis occasion must be that of unaffected hu-
mility ; and his second, that of deep gratitude—gratitude for
the eminent distinction .they had conferred on him at the elec-
tion—for the ccnfidente they had reposed in him when he de-
clined the acceptance of pledges, or the dictation of political
unions—for the groteftl and kind intercourse which had always
subsisted when he was attending to his duty in London—and
above all, for the approbation they had thus been pleased to be-
stow on his humble exertions after his return. It was no small
enhancement of this olligation that it proceeded from his fel-
low citizens, who had known him long, who had observed him
well, and with whom he had felt it a pieasure daily to associate.
He did not say that, et aspiring to the situation to which they
had raised him, he was void of personal ambition—on tlie con-
trary, he freely and frankly admitted that it had been the proud-
est aim of his life to represent his native city ; and it was a peculiar
honotir to attain such a thtinction on the first occasion when Glas-
gow was called on to exercise her new-born and well-merited

lege. He should never forget the warm interest andardentexer-
tions of his friends • he should never forget the courteous and flat-
tering reception whichhe had experienced from his constituents,
even when some of their could not give him their support.—
It was, indeed, an arduous contest, unexampled for duration,
for Competitiqn, and severity; but the victory was splendid and
decisive.- They had'placed him triumphantty at the head of the
poll, notwithstanding all the claims of the other candidates.
The cause was not his—it was theirs. It was the cause of com-
merce and manufactures—it was the cause of property and
independence—it was the cause of rational reform, of con-
stitutional principle and legitimate liberty. Ile must now
allude to a more delicate point--his conduct in Parlia-
ment. In the first place, with respect to personal attend-
ance, he was aware that bodily service profiteth little; and
therefore he might say, without much praise to himself, that
few members had been more regular. He had been at his post
at the very opening of the session, and he had remained till
the House was adjourned, previously to the prorogation. He
did not mean to say that he had constantly remained within
doors; the strength of a Hercules could not have stood it, the
patience of aJob could nothave endured it. In the second place,
with respect to the private business of his constituents, he held it
to be the primary duty of every representative to protect their pri-
vileges, to remedy their grievances, and to promote their interests.
So important was this branch considered in Liverpool, that the
mercantile interest had a regular office and secretary in Lon-
don. He had endeavoured to discharge this trust in every case
where this city was concerned; and with respect to his consti-
tuents, all lie should say was, that whether by attention to their
calls or their correspondence, and he bad the greatest pleasure
in both, however numerous, he was not aware that, in any one
instance, he had given dissatisfaction. But, in the third place,
he must now approach more tender and debateable ground—
his public and political career. (Hear.) In this great and free
country, every member was bound to give an account of his
stewardship, Velikketarily he would say, and at all times, if he
have right feeliaigs and correct principles; but at any rate com-
pulsorily, when hereame to solicit a renewal of confidenee. The
fair test of every representative was his declarations when a can-
didate—and what then were his? First, the principles of entire
independence; (cheers) that he would view the plans of govern-
ment solely with an eye to the public weal; (cheers) that he would
support them whenever he thought them right; (cheers) that he
would oppose theta whenever he deemed them wrong; and that
measures, not Men, should be the subject of his consideration.
Secondly, that every practicable reform, and every attainable
retrenchment, should have his cordial support; and thirdly,
that as to general politics, he was a decided friend to constitu-
tional monarchy, a hereditary peerage, and a faithful House of
Commons, to reflect the wants and the wishes of the people;
that his principle was to repair, not to subvert—to improve, not
to destroy, existing institutions; and that while he thus pro-
fessed himself a reformer, he never would be any thing ap-
proaching to a revolutionist. These were his professsions, and
as to the performance, it had been at one time his impression
that he ought now, and in this very place, to take a review of
all the important questions that had come before Parliament;
to specify the part which be took, and the vote which he gave;
to assign his reasons, and to submit his conduct to their fair
and impartial judgment. For this he had made himself fully
prepared, as it was a satisfaction they were fairly entitled to
demand. But when he began to consider the intoierable time
which he must thus occupy ; the deversity of sentiment which,
with the very best of men, must prevail on particular topics,
and the nature of the present meeting, which was more social
than political, more complimentary than argumentative, he had
reluctantly resolved to avoid all allusion to details, and at once
to throw himself on their candour, their justice, he might. per-
haps add, their indulgence. (Great applause.) He could only,
therefore, lay his hand to his heart and say; that there was not
one question of any magnitude before the House which he did
not study to the, best of his ability, and on which he did not
give his vote with a single eye to the good of his country.
If he had, in any instance, appeared to err, to deviate from
consistency, or to swerve from profession, it must have been
from ignorance, not from intention—front want of capacity, and
not from deficiency of purity. He was aware that he had been
accused by hisopponents, and really, after all. they had been
few in number and gentlemanly in "bearing, of being a ministe•
rialist, by which, if it meant any thing, he must understand a
regular and systematic supporter of the existing government.
Of all the charges that could be brought against him, he should
have supposed this would have been among the last. He had never
occupied the ministerial benches except once or twice when he
could not otherwise get a seat. He had never asked a favour
even for his warmest adherents, or his dearest friends. For
himself, he could have no object, no place to solicit, no title to
beg, no inducement to sell his independence for a mess of pot-
tage. Then what was the fact? By turning to the debates it
would appear that, on eight or ten ministerial questions, he had
distinctly and decidedly voted with the minority; and, in one
instance, as to the suppression of sinecures, with the majority—
against government. The whole head and front of his offend-
ing, therefore, was, that he supported ministers when he thought
they were in the right, (cheers,) and to this charge he at once
pleaded guilty- lie did so along with at least four-fifths of the
reformed House of Commons, with men of the first rank, of the
greatest property, and of the highest character—with conserva-
tives, whigs, and independents; with all. in short, but members
who either professed or inclined to radicalism (Great applause.)
And yet, it should seem, that on different occasions, the list of a
small minority ivas blazoned forth as Irish patriots and Scotch
worthies, as the only consistent characters, as the salt of the
House of Commons, who were to preserve the whole country
from- corruption. He had been called on to speak out his
opinions; he thought it unnecessary, but he Would. (Loud'
cheers.) Ile repeated, therefore, that he was for reform of
every existing *Wee, and in whatever shape it may appear, po-
litical, finantell-,e municipal, legal, military, or ecclesiastical.
He was for theft/fest rrgorous retrenchment in the public ex-
penditure, consistently with the national honour and the na-
tional safety. Ile was, in the phrase of the day, for the greatest
happiness of the greatest numbers, by promoting, the peace, the
inaustry, the comfort, the education, the Morals and religion of
the people. But with those who would flatter their prejudices,
stimulate their passions, or pervert their principles,—with those
who would wish to subvert order in the tend, or aim at over-
turning the settled institutions of the country,—with those who
would encroach on the great land-marks of the constitution,
King, Lords, and Commons,—aith those, in short, who would
in any shape encourage the evils of anarchy or riot in the reck-
lessness of revolution, he wanld say, in the language of the pa-
triarch, " my soul come not thou into their secrets, into their as-
sembly mine honourbe not thou united." He would now come a
little nearer home. He was among the last persons who should
have wished. for any separate demonstrations _During the canvass,
he abstained from all personal animosity, and the moment it
was over, he wisfred for a complete truce till the next election.
• His motto had always been, in the language of Loran, Chile
avertite belltunt. uniform object had been to seek the peace
of the city in Whirl he lived, te, promote general conciliation,
to quench every fiarne, to bury all contention. He had called
for Mr. Oswald, whenever his hOnourable colleague arrived in
London. -By a curious, and subsequently he believed they both
felt, a fortunate coincidence, their lodgings had been taken con-
tiguous to each other, and seldom aday passed without their
meeting, and considering what was best for the interest of their
constituents. It might be supposed that in consequence of re-
cent circumstances, to which he had no wish to allude, his con-
duct would he altered. There might be some in this city—if
so, he hopedthey were few—who would wish to dissever the ex-
ertions of the twin members. If there were such, he could
only pity them, and regret that they should even try to sacrifice
the public good on the altar of petty party. Ile would really
absolve his honourable friend from all such feelings. and he would
therefore meet him with the same kindness, with the same
cordiality, and the same desire to co-operate for the good of
their common constituents, as before. His honourable col-
league hail politely acknowledged the valuable assistance he
had derived from him—he believed it was mutual—but at all
events, it would give him the greatest pleasure to return the
compliment. He had now only to beg pardon for the time he
had occupied ; again to return his warmest acknowledgments,
and to wish them all, collectively and individually, peace, hap-
piness, and prosperity. Mr. Ewing sat down amid enthusiastic
cheering.

ON THE MORAL TENDENCY OF THE MUSICAL ART.—MU-
sic, it must be admitted, possesses acknowledged power over the
animal sensorium, but very little or none over the intellectual
or imaginative functions of man. The impression is made upon
the ear, and by this means an agreeable sensation is conveyed
to the brain. -But it appears to be nothing more than mere
sensation. An impression may be sensitive without being sen-
timental. Music i to the ear what softness is to the touch, and
beauty to the eye, and sweetness to the taste, and odour to the
sense of smell. None of these convey any abstract or moral
idea to the min-dr-except through the medium of some accidental
associationAVirthe very nature of the other sister arts (poetry
and paintinOttermake an appeal to the judgment and to the
taste; butintesiecas music, affects neither. If it be calculated
to soothe thelnivassed mind, and to calm the tide of violent
emotion, not less so are the luxurious lavings Of an eastern bath,
or the sweets' f a garden of aromatic flowers, or even in a well-
regulated mind those quiet moments of calm and solitary mus-
ing, the simple stillness of which so sweetly dispels the painful
excitement of a previous scene of noise and tumult. But who
would maintain that these have any inherent moral tendency ?
They are all sensitive, not sentimental impressions. Does mar-
shal music thrill through the breast of the warrior, and cause
his pulse to beat hard tor victory ? Does it convey new energy
to his exhausted frame, and new vigour to his enervated arm ?
Just in like manner does it affect the steed on which he rides.
It inspires both the horse and his rider with courage ; but phy-
sical courage is not a Christian virtue. It is perfectly distinct
from that moral courage which is the result of principle. Music
may, indeed, sometimes produce effects which we may almost
feel ourselves inclined religiously to venerate; hut such effects
are produced, not by the i tartation of new principles, but
Fell
simply by rousing the scns - to a state in which the mind
can become vigorously iii' • 'on those subjects with which it
had been previously octupied. We deny not that it gives a
physical impulse to the performance of a moral duty; net we
assert that it** gives an ifirpaise equally effective to the en-
thnsiastic:Travrt gs of Ore grootsest idea try. —Cleriation .liepositury ;
COr 1 etpcm &ex 4 " Mute."