The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1848-09-12 00:00:00

VARIETIES.

,At a market town in Rutlandshire, the following placard
affixed to the shutters of a watchmaker, who has de-
camped, leaving his creditors minus :—" Wound up, and
the main-spring broke."
WIVES WANTED IN THE BUSH.—It is almost impos-
!tble for either a bush servant or master to get married.
There are scarcely any women in the interior, and no der-
Omen. If a stockman or shepherd is so fortunate as to
Meet with a gill willing to have him, he must make a long
Journey into the settled districts, and there sojourn three
Weeks for bans, or go to the expense of a license, a
Most unreasonable demand upon the time and money of
ta9Ple in that situation of life. To take a woman with
'undren up from Sydney into the interior, is a trouble and
flP„ense few squatters like to undertake ; but children born
jl`ne Bush are no expense, and very little trouble. They
Indian corn, melons and potatoes, which grow by
goo aeratching the ground round the hut. And a stout
as :117 girl can in many respects make herself as useful
aides
uat-keeper--turn a corn-mill, clean a sheep-yard, be-
's Making and mending garments, and adding to the
population. One instance will illustrate the position of
b e whole of the interior of the colony. On the Barwen,
ath sides of the river were settled for 300 miles, and
there
was not one white woman in the whole distance.
l there had been ten or twenty servants, hut-keepers,
Shepherds,l and stockmen married and fixed to their
ioleroes, the foundation would have been laid for civiliza-
en of the best kind. Bushmen, when they do get wives,
make excellent husbands and fathers, although, of course,
extremely jealous, in a country where women are as
Scarce as
Bcaook. black swans in Europe.—Auatralian Hand
DEMANDS oN THE CHURCH.—It appears to be the
growing
hatthe
e impression of many able and experienced minds
tpresent period demands peculiar exertions on the
part of
the Established Church. While every day gene-
rates some new peril•to all the great institutions of States,
every day must make a new call upon the protective
powers of society. The profession of the clergy, their
education, and their ample means of ascertaining the
effect of laws upon the people, make those calls impera-
tive upon them in the highest degree. There are proba-
bly fifteen thousand clergy in the Establishment—each of
them has a circle of his own—and each who will thus use
his leisure may awaken that circle. To do this requires
no eminent ability. Sincerity was never in want of lan-
guage. Plainness itself is power. The heart of an honest
man transpires through his pen and illuminates his page.
-The office of the clergy must be to instruct the mature
population in the great objects which comprehend every
condition—to supply them with a " reason of the hope
that is in them"—to give them the primal principles of
action—to rescue them from the false knowledge, which
can only excite vanity or embitter discontent ; and to
give them that knowledge, at once solid and safe, which
Will make them good subjects, good husbands, good fa-
thee; and, as the source and security of all, good Chris-
-04,- The Church requires no new powers—she has
are. ..to, exert those she possesses already. The people
cui,",!ll affected to her; but she can maintain her rank
ti• "Y her reason. Of all the faculties which God has
;Iv;en to man intelligent zeal is the noblest. The distin-
e,:!lling qualities of a Church which is to guide this
I°ll must be vigilance and vigour. The country in our
tradition,
feels but little homage for virtue which lives only in
0 and heroism sealed in the tomb. It must look
n the living figure of virtue—on religion in its quench-
Les intrepidity and sacred ambition of good. The Church
of
England must be, like the seraphim in the vision of
the Prophet, all eyes and wings.—Rev. Dr. Croly.
tIastN—iRWEGIAN GLEN.—lzestedal—the Glen of the
Os
in the very heart oßf
Norway : a facetious tra-
!eller would call it the lungs of the land. My way hither
for the last hour was across a vast plain, the barren bed of
s,
• aters that, ages ago, must have found slower level, leav-
ing indelible traces of their former state. Black and grey
cheu cover stones more like debris than shingle ; while
iTe.e and there an alpine willow (Salix polaris), or, more
Par* still, a dry, swarthy, berry-bearing shrub, lowlily
letept between. A little further you came, every now and
:ken, to the brink of a mimic crater, at the bottom of
4.,"14,ehi half buried in bog-earth and moss-water, huge
tb,a!at and stumps, and trunks of pine-trees, mighty in
generation, lay black and hideous. Beyond these
everted barrows of the dead, these sepulchres of doughty
:rest chiefs of old, the heather grows tough and rank ;
b" on the left of a ve doubtful path an old pine stands
y„,itselft—barkless, aid bleached, and withered, all ex-
one branch pointing towards the south : telling,
'IIIIY enough and feelingly enough, poor old fellow ! of
_(;rest grandeur and high domain in bygone days. A rifle-
not farther on are the utmost limits of modern sylvan
stay defined by stunted birch-trees,—not honest dwarfs
(
netute name) but dwarfed white birch-trees (B. alba),
that stand there, cowering and squinting southward with
;runawa look, evidently but ill at ease on their post
o (lag the y frontier line. And between these pitiful senti-
Zand the stubborn old aristocrat above stands, gaunt,
outs gre, and rim whole generation of pine-tres, with
tretYched blgasteda arms, like a God-strickene race of
giants turned to stone while uttering some impious vow.
Crossing the frontier line unchallenged by the cringing
oot
otriosts, the glen lies before you, with its bosky braes
On grassy leas shelteringly. Westward rise the dark,
1-Cen peaks of the Rondna ; southward, the dreary
tb:ager-fells ; northward, the massy Dovre ; eastward,
bet:ary Stor-Kringla ; and, beyond, the Folge-fells,
tronleen whose brown brows and fir-clad leas the blue
incre, of a copper-work tells of human wants and human
rriro3'. It was not long before I was snugly harboured
e tidy little dwelling of the owner of the glen. No
Ivor had my host—the only jolly one I ever saw in
th,:swaY—cloneand said his best to make me feel at home,
o" a bright thought seemed to strike him ; and he left
tio4w.itli the mien of a man bent on doing a virtuous ac-
diso, In a few minutes he returned, his countenance ra-
the `, with benevolence, and having placed a stool beside
set !louse-father's chair," in which I was installed, he
/3„,,eri_ore me a wooden platterful of turnips—yellow
nflie,s" turnips, the only garden produce of the glen, in
Ali el neither potatoes nor corn of any kind can be grown.
there se he had tried : all else had failed. And he bad ga-
-1.31.0_ d these roots, the greatest luxury he had, and
it do hem them unto me. some burly old moralist had laid
tie. 7, that no one ever repents of having eaten too lit-
/ oua toy part, I have left undone so many things that
'ladordeYlave done, that I have enough to regret with-
you ting my conscience with the sins of my
.stomach.
tality, a- but seen that man's face, beaming with hospi
tat ..he set before me his dish of roots, bidding me
earnly and
'one Just spare not, you would, I am sure, have
Slice, what did,—smilingly, gently, savouringly,
la,
shoe, and. eat, three raw turnips. In the glen of the
noSheltering and friendly as it looked to me, no fruit,
n-f rheen, no Potatoes, can be grown. But the white grouse
grate carnet and the ptarmigan of the alpine scaur (Te-
of 4'agaPas b •
the au alptna, and Lapopus alpina), the char
me, 2:z., and the butter of the mountain pastures,-
15.--01e7,_
__the farm-produce of my jolly host's estate.—
' Magazine.