The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1846-02-17 00:00:00

THE GRETNA-GREEN PARSON AND THE
ACTOR.

A very curious circumstance occurred on Christmas-day
at this celebrated Temple of Hymen. The western mail
having preceded a gentleman's carriage which was chang-
ing horses at Hamilton's, the Bush Inn, Carlisle, some
wag journeying by it, on arriving at Gretna Green (the
next stage)rinformed the landlord, the celebrated parson
(in confidence), that a distinguished foreigner was follow-
ing close b?hind them, eloping with an English lady of great
wealth, and that his services would he in requisition. In
a moment all was bustle, the note of preparation sounded,
and everything was arranged to give the supposed fugi-
tives a suitable reception. The room so recently the
scene of the nuptials of Captain Ibbetson and the Lady
Adele Villiers, was scarcely in readiness when a carriage
and four was seen wending its way up the avenue (the
house being some distance off the road), the horses gal-
loping fast and furious, as is the post-boys wont at the
close of a stage; the steps were let down in an instant,
when forth stepped a personage wearing " The shadowed
livery of th- burnish:: I sun." This dignifiel, dusky per-
sonage was immediately ushered into the celebrated ap-
artment, followed closely by the landlord (we beg his
pardon), the parson Linton himself. The lady not alight-
ing was attributed to bashfulness at the peculiarity of her
supposed position. The following dialogue ensued :
Parson Lintin (bowing): " You are welcome, sir, you are
welcome to Scotland ; had I kenn'd ye were intending to
honour my house wi' a visit but ten minutes afore, all
would hae been in readiness for ye; that chiel Hamilton
(dell take him) must hae been daft not to hae sent an
express, as he always does on sic like occasions, and not
trusted to a chance traveller; but as it is. we maun mak
all possible haste. Saundie, yon lazy loon, what gars ye
glowrin' at the gentleman, ye ill mannered tyke ; rin, sir,
rin, and fetch the register ; stop, sir, stop, here are the
keys. I beg, your pardon, sir, but—
Dark Stranger : " Oh, no apology, sir; I thank you for
your attention, but I am not so pressed for time that a
slight delay of this nature will occasion me much incon-
venience ; but as soon as you can make your arrangements
and send us forward, I will thank you."
Parson Linton : " Oh certainly, sir, certainly : ob, here
is the rigester, sir, here it is. I have got the signatures
of some of the first of the land, and hope to have many
more in spite of that meddling, ill-faur'd chit!, Lord
Brougham ; ye ken, sir, I mak nae doubt that he endea-
voured (deil mend him) last year to interfere with my
established rights; yes, sir, rights that have been mine
and my forbears from time immemorial. Here, sir, is
the signature of my Lord Westmoreland and Miss Child ;
I ken him weal, sir, though I was but a wee laddie at the
time ; they came galloping up just in the gloaming ' • and
here is Captain Ibbetson and the Lady Adela, a braw
lassie, and there is a firm hand she wrote at such a critical
period ; and, singular enough, the last line but two—
there is just room left for your name and that of the bonny
leddy."
Dark Stranger: " Is it customary, then, for your visi-
tors to sign their names in this, your register ?"
" Linton • " Oh yes, sir ; all the patricians, sir, the pa-
tricians. We have another for the plebeians, ha, ha, ha!
ah, I see all is in readiness, and if you please we will go
forward with the ceremony."
Dark Stranger : " Oh, with the greatest pleasure.
Oblige me with pen and ink."
Parson Linton : " But the leddy, sir, the leddy."
Dark Stranger: " Oh, never mind; she is rather fa-
tigued from travelling, and is not disposed to alight; I
will sign her name, which will be the same thing, I sup-
pose."
Parson Linton : " Naething of the kind, sir ; naething
of the kind • it wad ne stand in law ; the ceremony must
be first performed, and then ye're responsible ; the cere-
mony first, sir, the ceremony."
Dark Stanger : " The ceremony—what ceremony ?"
Parson Linton : " The matrimonial tie; the ordained
ordinance ye ken, sir; first call the bonny leddy wife, and
then—"

Dark Stranger: " Call her wife! why she is my wife;
what else would you have me call her? You cannot sup-
pose, from onr very different complexions, that we stand
in relation of brother and sister."
Parson Linton: "Your wife! it's na possible ; did you
not come post here to be married ?"
Dark stranger : "To be married !—I came for post
horses; besides, I have been in the enjoyment of that
connubial state that religion enjoins for some years, and
I hope you have ton much respect for your sacred calling
to wish me to coun..ht the unchristian crime of bigamy."
Parson Linton: " The Lord forbid, sir ; the Lord for-
bid."

We may explain that the above dark-coloured stranger
turned out to be Mr. Aldridge, the celebrated African
tragedian ; a gentleman said to be possessed of the very
highest histrionic and literary attainments, and who is at
present fulfilling a round of engagements in the principal
theatres in Scotland.—Hereford Journal.

BENEFICIAL SANITARY RESULTS OF
GOOD PAVING.

(From the Liverpool Health of Towns' Advocate.)
We need not say that a considerable amount of disease
must arise from bad paving ; but we confess to have
been hardly prepared for the disclosures made in the fol-
lowing experimental evidence. The facts are melancholy,
because, if confirmed by other examples, they will shew
what an awful extent of suffering has been inflicted on the
poor by our neglect of so simple an improvement. But at
the same time they afford most gratifying evidence of our
power to alleviate the sanitary condition of the town. The
data have been supplied by Mr. Carr, of the South Dis-
pensary, from his register, and shew only the cases of dis-
ease visited at their own homes. Six of the worst,courts,
in one of the worst parts of Liverpool, were so notoriously
unhealthy, that the medical attendant was hardly ever out
of them ; and when any epidemics visited the town, these
courts exhibited their results in perfection. Their sur-
face was in a most disgraceful state, being always covered
to some depth with putrid mud, so that the inhabitants
were compelled to place large stones at intervals, to ena-
ble them to reach their houses by stepping from one to
another. In the course of last summer these courts were
flagged, and the effect on their sanitary condition soon
became apparent. To exhibit this, we have chosen five
months, from August to December, inclusive, of 1844,
before paving, and the same five months of 1845, the pav-
ing having been completed in the interim. We have se-
lected these periods, because the general sanitary condi-
tion of the town was nearly the same in both :

TABLE EXHIBITING THE SANITARY EFFECTS OF FLAGGING.
Number of Cases of Sickness
Courts. No. of Houses. in Five Months.
Crosby-street. Before Paving. After Paving.
Ash
Fir
Pine... 8
Oak . 8
Beech 7 • 7
Brick-street.

Bridport-court lB

Total

57

The period of five months is too short to enable us to
deduce accurate statistical results ; and there may be other
causes operating in producing this extraordinary difference,
but still we trust the evidence is sufficiently conclusive to
satisfy the public of the soundness of the principles we
advocate, while it ought to stimulate and encourage the
authorities to prosecute vigorously the course of improve-
ment on which they have entered. The arrangements for
cleansing the surfaces of courts and passages, which have
been adopted by the Town Council within the last three
weeks, are highly to be commended ; and the more fre-
quent sweeping of streets by the machine will be of much
sanitary benefit.

STEPHEN KEMBLE AS FALSTAFF—ANNO 1800.—One
of the great histrionic dynasty, Stephen Kemble, has
lately amused the town by his performance of Falstaff.
He exhibited the humours of the jovial knight with skill
enough to make the audiences laugh. But he was perhaps
the first actor who ever played the fat knight to the life.
His remarkable corpulence qualified him to play the cha-
racter without stuffing. The good humour of his visage
was fully equalled by the protuberance of his stomach ;
and if the " tutus in se teres atque rotundus" of Horace,
is the poet's definition of a good man, the actor rose to the
summit of human virtue. The best prologue, since the
days of Garrick, ushered in this singular performance.
A Falstaff here to-night, by nature made,
Lends to your favourite bard his pond*rous aid;
No man in buckram he, no stuffing gear I
No feather bed, nor e'en a pillow here I
But all good honest flesh, and blood, and bone,
And weighing, more or less—some thirty stone.
Upon the northern coast, by chance, we caught him :
And hither, in a broad-wheed waggon. brought him ;
For in a chaise the varlet ne'er could enter,
And no mail-coach on such a fare would venture.
Blest with unwieldiness, at least his size
Will favour find in every critic's eyes;
And should his humour, and his mimic art,
Bear due proportion to his outer part,
As once 'twas said of Macklin in the Jew,
' This is the very picture Shakspeare drew.'
To you, with diffidence, be bids me say,
Should you approve, you may command his stay,
• To lie and swagger here another Oily.
If not, to better men he'll leave his sack,
And go, as ballast, in a collier, back."
—Blackwood's Magazine.

CRUELTY OF THE OLD SYSTEM OF COACHING.—
" Reader." writes Hieover, " hast ever been in that abode
of crippled horses, a coach stable ? 'Probably not, but I
have, in hundreds, and have there seen the direful havoc
of fast coaches. We must recolect that nothing but a
high- couraged and a high-bred horse is fit for a coachhorse.
Carrying this in our minds, we must not infer, because we
see four horses going along without the constant application
of-the whip, that they are going at their ease; quite the
reverse; they are probably, even at that moment, suffering
much, either from distress by pace or bodily infirmity ; for
we are not to expect such coaches as a Brighton Age, a
Windsor Taglioni, or a Birmingham Tantivy (were) on
every road. These horses were bought in their prime,
were kept in the highest possible condition, and, from
their number, were allowed proper intervals and days of
rest. Bat, taking a long line of road, many brutes of
coachowners purchase only infirm horses, which, by dint
of punishment, are made to do work for which they are
deally totally unfit. It is enough for their owner that they
o it, their free and generous spirits inducing them to pre-
fer the agony of going to that inflicted by the whip. These
are (were) a few observations on their horses common in
the mouths of coachmasters It will be cheaper to work
him to death than to be at any expense about him.'—This
means, that if resting him for three months will cost £3,
and by working him to death £3 ss. is to he got out of him,
he is condemned at once and works till he drops. 'lt
will pay better to work him to death than to sell him at
that price.'—That is, the price offered does not amount
by ss. or 10s. to the amount of labour still left in him ; so
be shares the fate of his companion above. He is cheap
to whip to death at the price;' or 'I only bought him to
whip to death.' This is a frequent remark when a low-
priced horse is puchased in, and said of some wreck of a
splendid hunter wht) has carried our aristocracy in the
first flight over Leicestershire."—Stable Talk and Tabk
Talk.

RIDING A DROMEDARY.
(From the Knight of Gwynne.)
" Dick French was the only one I ever heard of back-
ing a dromedary," said a fat, old farmer-like man, from
the end of the table.

" How was that, Martin?" said Daly, with a look that
showed he either knew the story, or anticipated some-
thing good.
" And by all accounts, it's the devil to ride," resumed
the old fellow ; " now, it's the head down and the loins
up, and then, a roll to one side, and then to the other,
and a twist in the small of your back as if it were coming
in two ; oh, by the good day ! Dick gave me as bad a
stich in the one side just by telling me about it."
"But where did he get his experience, Martin ? I
never heard of it before," said Daly.
" He was a fortnight in Egypt, sir," said the old far-
mer ; "he was in a frigate, or man-of-war of one kind
or another, off—the devil o' me knows well where it was,
but there was a consul there, a son of one of his father's
tenants ; indeed, ould French got him the place from the
government, and when he found out that Dick was on
board the ship, what does he do, but writes him an invi-
tatian to pass a week or ten days with him at his house,
and that he'd show him some sport. ' We've elegant
hunting,' says he ; ' not foxes or hares, but a big bird,
bigger nor a goose, they call'—by my conscience I'll for-
get my own name next, for I heard Dick tell the story at
least twenty times."
" Was it an ostrich?" said Tom.

" No ; nor an oyster either, Mr. Conolly," said the
old fellow, who thought the question was meant to quiz
him.

" 'Twas an Ibis, Martin," cried Daly, " an Ibis."
'1 The devil a doubt of it, that's the name ; a crayture,
with legs as long as Mr. Beecham O'Reilly's, and a way
of going, half-flying, half-walking, almost impossible to
catch, and they hunt him on dromedaries. Dick liked
the notion well, and, es he was a favourite on board, he
got lave for three days to go on shore, and have his fun,
though the captain said at parting, ' It's not many drome-
daries you'll see, Dick, for the Pasha has them all up the
country at this time.' This was true enough ; sorra a bit
of a camel or dromedary could be seen for miles round ;
but, however it was, the consul kept his word, and had
one for Dick the next morning, a great strapping baste,
all covered with trappings of one kind or other, elegant
shawls and little hearth rugs all over him. The others
were mounted on mules or asses, any way they could, and
away they went to look after the goose, the Ibis,' I
mean. Well, to be short with it, they came up with one,
on the bank of a river, and soon gave chase. He was a
fine strong fellow, and well able to run. I wish you heard
Dick tell this part of it. Never was there such sport in
the world ; blazing away altogether, as fast as they could
prime and load, at one time at the goose, more times at
each other ; the mules kicking, the asses braying, and
Dick cantering about on his dromedary, upsetting every
one near him, and shouting like mad. At last he pinned
the goose up, in a narrow corner, among some old walls,
and Dick thought he'd have the brush ; but sorra step the
dromedary would stir. He spurred and kicked, and beat
away with a stick as hard as he could ; but it was all no
good—it was the carpets, maybe, that saved him, for
there he stood fast, just for all the world as if he was
made of stone. Dick pulled out a pistol and fired a shot
in his car, but all to no use; he minded it no more than
before. Bad luck to you, for a baste,' says Dick, ' what
ails you at all, are you going to die on me ? Get along
now. The divil receave a step I'll go, till I get some
spirits and wather l' says the dromedary, for I m clean
smothered with them bl—y blankets,' and with them
same words the head of the baste fell off, and Dick saw
tie consul's own mau wiping the perspiration from his
face, and blowing like a porpoise. How the divil the
hind legs bears it, I can't think,' says he ; lam nigh
dead though I had a taste of fresh air.' The murther was
out, gentlemen, for you see the counsel could not get a
raal dromedary, and was obliged to make one out of a
Christian, and a black fellow he had for a cook ; and, sure
enough, in the beginning of the day Dick says he went
like a clipper ; 'twas doubling after the goose destroyed
him."