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

Sept. 12, 1848.

literaturt.

NOTICES.
°Cite. A,
otes of Eight Years in Europe, with his In-
-4;7, the Courts
and three parties of American Indians,
„`„r4 Courts of England, France, and Belgium. 2
is, with numerous Illustrations. Published by the
rther, at his Indian Collection, 6, Waterloo-place,
It
jewiS now some years since Mr. Catlin published a work
1,1,11 A he described his life and adventures amongst the
carl dadians of America. The present volumes may be
edas a pendant to that work, and like to it in many
fpj et'ts, because they are as truthful, and as strange, as
y, of sagacity, and of philanthropy. Mr.
;Ft; lof novelta
8 first work was a plain, unvarnished description
,Ine savage Indian in his wigwam, and amid those
es for which his habits and customs had formed him
btoreqs master and possessor ; whilst in these volumes we
twitisthe same savage brought, not merely in contact with
delved Ile, but actually dwelling in its towns, and re-
within the palaces of its sovereign princes. By
'partner work of Mr. Catlin we were made acquainted
tl. the habits and the manners of the Indian, but in the
eael,ll.t_we are. able to appreciate his intellectual qualities.
Imre as it were his mind and his heart laid before us ;
do we knowold judge of him by the one publication, so
flecti,, by this, how he judges of us, and what re-
were suggested to him by witnessing our habits,
reanners, and our customs. In these volumes the
Plea," la Placed in the rostrum of the lecturer, and ap-
%jell es or
.condeinns man in the highest state of civilisa-
What hitets alike interesting to know what he thinks, and
%el "els—whether his judgment be accurate, or his
u!ian erroneous.
14411 t win
be seen by this description of the present Yo-
gi:es; th.at they are unique in their character, and that
toy rn's.lo them that which is most difficult to discover in
z—e°,,rra publication—novelty of idea, of thought. and
afeetX, ssian. The opinions of the savage upon civilised
due found in these volumes, it is to be observed,
otb:t those of a solitary individual, nor even of a single
is t„, Mr. Catlin found more than one race of the Indian
ttiZaPe, and he has therefore been able to show the
of h,—"ans of several minds, and to depict the thoughts
ith".°l* than one rude savage—to describe how these
lky;)lge beings conducted themselves, and to dissect and
tok are the motives and the reflections of each. If these
iitimeLes contained nothing more than this, they should
teie'ereMed as well worthy of perusal, but to the English
tow„,,they will be found peculiarly interesting on other
It"s• It is wea known that Mr. Catlin's " Indian
,s_ection" has always occupied a prominent position
isuest the "
nee to the sights of London " whenever it has been
Public--deservedly attracting towards it
of Patronage of the Royal Family, of the nobility, and
Doren' stranger of exalted rank who visited the metro-
oft;'• Thus we have not merely life-like portraits of the
pmrs in the presence of those with whose names the
tocii le, are familiar, but we are shown those illustrious
ttlit°,lu,aals in the presence of savages. We have de-
the „a, for instance, the visits of the Duke of Sussex.
Duke of Cobourg, Prince Albert, &c. ; and we have
wie Portrayed Buckingham Palace, and her Majesty,
10,411,the Indi ns were honoured by a summons. We
to titluern breakfasting with Mr. Disraeli, and introduced
tot! e family of the Duke of Cambridge—in Paris re-
itto by the King of the French, and feted by the illus-
the u: Inert of France. Thus a double interest is given to
inike°oa ; it portrays what otherwise must be utterly
loss and it throws a new light on persons and mat-
dier
4, evpusly well known. Every circumstance and
Individual, like every thought contained in this
, is d •
ewdepicted truly, faithfully, and clearly. There is
hgt Vit at the graces of authorship, but there is a rnani-
tet7sire to state nothing but what is the fact, without
The lisiaa, without palliation, and without exaggeration.
cop reader is instructed, is interested, is amused ; and he
thettl?t close the book without coming to the conclusion
the literary labours of an honest man.

VARIETIES.

market town in Rutlandshire, the following placard
camped to the shutters of a watchmaker, who has de-
file Pad, leaving his creditors minus :—" Wound up, and
fain-spring broke."
liblelB WANTED IN THE Buss.—lt is almost impos-
forher either a bush servant or master to get married.
ghee° are scarcely any women in the interior, and no der-
-4140' If a stockman or shepherd is so fortunate as to
hat„ walla girl willing to have him, he must make along
we4eY into the settled districts, and there sojourn three
moatlicense, „for bans, or go to the expense of a a
Peoi,ie"?lreasonable demand upon the time and money of
Child in that situation of life. To take a woman with
?rpetell,llP from Sydney into the interior, is at.rouble and
tliiMew squatters like to undertake ; but children born
L,lve „Bush are no expense, and very little trouble. They
iiist°,-,,.(utlian corn, melons and potatoes, which grow by
coatt;atehing the ground round the hut. And a stout
as a 111,3; ‘.41 can in many respects make herself as useful
sides 4,2°°Per--turn a corn-mill, clean a sheep-yard, be-
P°Pul and mending garments, and adding to the
the
Nrlon.
„, One instance will illustrate the position of
both sidesite of the interior of the colony. On the Barwen,
there sides of the river were settled for 300 miles, and
If th: as not one white woman in the whole distance.
shephlre had been ten or twenty servants, hut-keepers,
"rus, and stockmen married and fixed to their
' tier' "' the foundation would have been laid for civilize-
letreak 4.4 e best kind. Bushmen, when they do get wives,
ereellent husbands and fathers, although, of Course;
Ina.boore47. ell biter' in
a country where women are as
swans in Europe.—Australian Hand
trDEMANDS ON TEE Cnucn.—lt appears to be the
owi tr
that g impression of many able and. experienced minhds
part
the present period demands peculiar exertions on t e
gene-
rates of the Established Church. While every day gene-
s some new peril to all the great institutions of States,
t„,ery day must make a new call upon the protective
elvers of society. The profession of the clergy, their
ucation and their ample means of ascertaining the
tiefrve„et of laws upon the people, make those calls impera-
e Non them in the highest degree. There are proba-
tt fifteen thousand clergy in the Establishment—each of
iiisetilhas a circle of his own—and each who will thus use
leisure. may awaken that circle. To do this requires
!eminent ability. Sincerity was never in want of lan-
ag°. Plainness itself is power. The heart of an honest
44aal transpires through his pen and illuminates his page.
e office
Populati of the clergy must be to instruct the mature
zuact,
ti
ono the great objects which comprehend every
supply them with a " reason of the hope
eett is in them"—to give them the primal principles of
eati°ll--to rescue them from the false knowledge, which
give °IIIY excite vanity or embitter discontent ; and to
b, them that knowledge, at once solid and safe, which
ii;'ettniake them good subjects, good husbands, good fa-
tiee:; and, as the source and security of all, good Chris-
only 't The Church requires no new powers—she has
are w,„11, exert those she possesses already. The people
ealq g„",nffected to her; but she can maintain her rank
e tiv her reason. Of all the faculties which God has
tii'shy° man, intelligent zeal is the noblest. The
qualities of a Church which is to guide this
dat must be vigilance and 'vigour. The country in our
4418. feels but little homage for virtue which lives only in
oa the living
and heroism sealed in the tomb. It must look
488
.e living figure of virtue—on religion in its Church
and sacred ambition of good. The Church
the ~ngland must be, like the seraphim in the vision of
e,„t°Phet, all eyes and wings.—Rev. Dr. Croly.
IIIui"ORWEGIAN GLEN.—Blsestedal—the Glen of the
velf in the very heart of Norway : a facetious tra-
tarp' Would call it the lungs of the land. My way hither
Wet ''° last hour was across a vast plain, the barren bed of
ets that, ages ago, must have found slower level, leav-
liktidelible traces of their former state. Black and grey
her.en cover stones more like defbria than shingle; while
104,- and there an alpine willow (Scar polaris), or, more.
ete,,7 still, a dry, swarthy, berry-bearing shrub, lowlily
theeh'' between. A little further you came, every now and
Iviirms' to the brink of a mimic crater, at the bottom of
root :10 half buried in bog-earth and moss-water, huge
gleia:' and stumps, and trunks of pine-trees, mighty in
lavgeneration, lay black and hideous. Beyond these
for`!‘"ed barrows of the dead, these sepulchres of doughty
ittci" Chiefs of old, the heather grows tough and rank ;
by 0,0 the left of a very doubtful path an old pine stands
eeDi'seif,—barkless, and bleached, and withered, all ex-
Alii,„,°ne branch pointing towards the south : telling,
for,;"'Y enough and feelingly enough, poor old fellow! of
shot grandeur and high domain in bygone days. A rifle-
awl: farther on are the utmost limits of modern sylvan
defined by stunted birch-trees,—not honest dwarfs
thar,ia. nana4 but dwarfed white birch-trees (B. alb& ),
S r„!Land there, cowering and squinting southward with
alb away look, evidently but ill at ease on their post
eeinst the frontier line. And between these pitiful senti-
Sad and the stubborn old aristocrat above stands, gaunt,
iltsf.i.eY, and grim a whole generation of pine-trees, with
Ri4tijetched blasted arms. like a God-stri9kea race of
tross turned to stone while uttering some impious vow.
ntitb„'lTl,g the frontier line unchallenged by the cringing
slid-81.8, the glen lies before you, with its bosky braes
clo,„grassy leas shelteringly. Westward rise the dark,
11%0 Peaks of the Rondna ; southward, the dreary
the ger-fells ; northward, the massy Dovre ; eastward,
betwiTl ' - itarY Stor Kringla • and, beyond, the Folge-fells,
!kaolnyvhose brown brows and fir-clad leas the blue
iad a copper-work tells of human wants and human
l'ith„Y• It was not long before I was snugly harboured
e;".,,_ly limy bost—thttle dwelling of the owner of the glen. No
°ad e only jolly one I ever saw in
me and said his best to make me feel at home,
Iv't.;b7ight thou ht seemed to strike him and he left
tyna.l-I_,the mien of a man bent on doing a virtuous =-
1414 4 a few minutes he returned, his countenance ra-
the a,ith benevolence, and having placed a stool beside
gethouse-father's chair," in which I was installed, he
I'wedi,,Tre Me a wooden platterful of turnips—yellow
.
Which "' the only garden produce of the glen, in
ei rie,lther potatoes nor corn of any kind can be grown.
?
tkilton eter'ese roots:e bad tried : all else had faluiledxury. Ahe had, and he had gnd
a-
tt
deght them unto ' the
me. Some burly old moralist had laid
wt,no,rthat no one ev. er repents of having eaten too lit-
ought t Part, have left undone so many things that
t tkrti 0 have done, that I have enough to regret with-
ening my conscience with the sins of my stomach.
-.uty you but seen that man's face, beaming with hospi-
Nh' he set before me his dish of roots, bidding me
eartilyand
tmune ills, spare not, you would, lam sure,. have
eel, '• What I did,—smilingly, gently, savouringly,
"lust 'Lee' and eat, three turnips. In the glen of the
no _ Sualte
corn rin
g and friendlyraw
as it looked to me, no fruit,
'fl7. the eo'"oliPotatoes, can be grown. But the white grouse
jf , and the ptarmigan of the alpine scaur
tlie iitnnPtio,
asupalpina, and Layopua a/pi.na), the char
4ese were thna the butter of the mountain pastures,—
e'er, e farm-produce of my jolly host's estate.—
. -magazine.