The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1843-08-22 00:00:00

SELECTIONS.

THE DEATH STRUGGLE.

(From" A Flab( in the Dark," in Ainsworth's Maga.
zine.)

During his [the victor's] convalescence, inquiries were
frequently made of him as to the mode in which the fight
was managed ; and he accordingly gave the following cu-
rious account, as nearly as the writer can remember :
" When the door eas closed," said he, " we were sur-
rounded by the most profound darkness. It seemed for
some moments to confound the senses, and be close to
my eyes. During the three minutes allowed before the
battle might begin, my principal aim was to get away
from my antagonist into another part of the room, with-
out his knowledge, and to stand there by the wall until,
perhaps, he should make some movement, by the sound
of which I could be directed in my attack. The crowd
outside was as still as death. I held my breath, and
treading so lightly that I could not hear my own footfalls,
I stole away towards that side of the room on which I
entered. Whether he had calculated that I should natu-
rally do so, and had therefore taken the same direction,
nobody can now tell ; hut no sooner had I stood still to
listen for him, than I found he was somewhere about me
—I could hear his breathing. With the greatest caution
and silence, I hastened to another part, expecting every
moment either that he would run against me, or I against
him. And in this kind of manoeuvring, sometimes to get
away, and sometimes to approach, if I fancied, though
why I know not, that an advantage might be gained, the
greatest part of the silent half hoar you speak of was
spent. _ _ _

" At length, having safely reached the opposite side, I
stood still, resolved not to move again until he either ap-
proached, having perhaps fund me out, or by some means
or other I could discover his position in the room. Hav-
ing now got beyond his reach, I felt that to be motionless
on my part was the wisest step, and calculated that his
passion and fury would soon lead him on to the exhibition
of less caution. Nothing of the kind occurred, and yet
the first hall discharged was mine. A mouse could have
been heard to stir; but we were perfectly lost to each
other.

" Eventually, whether my eyes had become more ac-
commodated to the blackness, or from whatever cause,
but true enough it is, I perceived a pair of eyes on the
other side nearly opposite me. They shone like those of
a hyena in the night. I fired instantly, and rushed for-
ward. The flash shewed me the colonel crouched down
against the wall, and must equally have directed him to
me. He fired as he advanced, but missed. We were
almost close together. The empty pistols were thrown
down, and the knives used. He rushed on with great
ferocity, and tried to grapple with me, but I slipped out
of his arms ; and for an instant, being quite separated,
both stood still, listening for the place of the other. I
think he must have heard me, for he fired a second time
with such effect as you all have seen. Nothing but his
knife now remained ' • I had knife and pistol. We were
so close together, that he was upon me almost as soon as
his pistol-bill. The latter staggered me a little at the
moment, but I met him with the knife, and from that
time we never separated again. My object was to keep
him from closing upon me, until I could be as certain as
darkness would permit of using my last ball to advantage.
In consequence of that, 1 retreated in various ways, both
still fighting, sometimes on the open floor, and sometimes
knocking ourselves with violence against the wall.
" I was growing faint. I found my strength failing,
and then I fired my second pistol. The light instantane-
ously made, shewed both men redder than the Indian in
the field of battle. I heard that he staggered, and rushed
with all my strength upon him. He still fought a little,
but suddenly dropped before me, and more than that I
do not kpow."

THE RULING PASSION.

(From " John Manesty, !e
_Liverpool Merchant," in

Ainsworth' Magazine.)
" Ay, my lord," said Joe; " I think 1 see the old earl
now, lying upon the damask bed, with the rich green cur-
tains hanging over him, and your lordship's mother's fa-
mily arms worked in gold over the bed head, and a table
by his side, with a prayer-book, a posset-cup, the Racing
Calendar, and a tankard of ale, though, poor old fellow,
(saving your lordship's presence,)"—and here Joe sni-
velled, and wiped away a tear,—" he couldn't drink it."
" A bad case." remarked Sam ; " I could almost cry
myself. .2\ on fail qualis"—and he took a glass of punch.
"And his poor old face, God bless it! worn down like
the edge of a hatchet, and his eye half-awake, half-asleep,
and his long grey hair tossed over the pillow, for he was
too much of a man to wear a night-cap; and says he,
Who's there ? ' I says, I, my lord—it is I,' says I.
And who the devil are you ? ' said he ; for he had always
a pleasant way of speaking. It is Joe, the groom,' said
I, my lord' ;so he woke up a bit, and he said, ' Joe,'
says he, lam booked ; bet any odds against me, and
you are sure. Every race must have an end, Joe ' and
he strove to drink out the tankard, but could nor lift it.
My heart bleeds to think of it this moment. So there
were three or four nurse-tenders, and valy-di-shams, and
other such low raggabrash about the room, for he had
taken leave, as you know, my lord, of his relations, and
would let none of them come any more near him ; he
turned these cattle out at once with a word, and away the
lazy vermin went. ' Now, Joe,' says he, this is a dead
beat, and there's an end : I'm past the post.' So I looked
astonished like, and did not know what to say. But,'
says I, don't give up, my lord ; there's a great deal in
second wind. You may be in for the cup yet. I wish I
could do aught for your lordship.' So the old lord he
once more brightened up, and says he to me, Joe,' says
he, could you smuggle a few uoettb him thls ruuar, with-
out the knowledge of Lady Silverstick ?'—that's your
lordship's mother, his niece. ' Couldn't I,' says I; so I
slipped down, and brought up in a couple of bags, by the
backstairs—your lordship knows them well—they were
the beautifullest cocks you ever seed, Sir Toby :—and I
brought 'em into the room, as dark as night—nobody
twigged me. So his lordship strove to rise in his bed.
It is no go. Joe,' says he; but prop me up with the
pillows, and parade the poultry.' Well, it would warm
the heart of a Christian, to see the poor old lord how glad
he was when he saw the cocks—Wasn't they prime! I
believe you, they were, for I had picked the best out for
his lordship. Joe,' says he, cocking is nothing without
betting. Put your hand under my pillow, and you will
find the twenty-five guineas that is meant for the doctor
—have you any money, Joe?' I have fivepence-ha'-
penny, in ha'pence, my lord,' says I. Quite enough,'
says his lordship. ' Now, Joe, I back the ginger-pill'
(and a good judge of a cock he was, almost as good as
yourself, Sir Theobald) against any cock in the bag;
my guinea always against your halfpenny.' So to it we
went; one match he won, one match I won—one match
I lost, one match he lost; and what with one bet sod
another, his lordship got my fivepence-ha'penny out of
me."

" That was a eross, Joe," said Lord Randy.
" Honour bright, my lord, it was not," replied Joe,
quickly; " for I was reared by my lord, himself, and I
could not, when I once was in it, and the cocks did their
work. So, when his last cock was crowine over mine,
says he, `Joe, you're done—cleared out!' and he took a
fit of laughihg—poor old master ! it was the last laugh he
had in this world! His jaw began to drop, and I got
frightened, and I called in the valy-di-shams. Lord love
you! how they stared when they saw the cocks dead,
and the old lord dying. They ran up to him, but he took
no notice of them, but beckoned as well as he could for
me ; he took my coppers with his left hand, and scraped
them into his bed from the table,—as why shouldn't he?
for they was fairly won,—and shoved over the green silk
purse, with his five-and-twenty guineas in it, to me. The
guineas, my lord, are long since gone ; but the purse
hangs on the wall opposite my bed-head, that I may see
it when I wake every morning. I would not give that old
purse for the best breed of cocks in Lancashire, and that's
the best breed in the world. * * * And then he cast
his eye upon the cocks, and the bird he had last backed
gave one great, loud crow, and the old man's head sunk
on the pillow, and he died."

A WARLIKE POPE.—lmmediately before the great door,
of this church (San Petronio, at Bologna) stood that fa-.
mnus colossal bronze statue of Pope Julius 11, executed
by Michael Angelo, after the reconciliation of their quar-
rel on the subject of the Moses. The Pope, at his own
request, was represented with a sword in his left hand,
and in the act of reprimanding the Bolognese with his
right. But this great masterpiece lasted only five years.
In 1511, on the return of Bentivoglio, it was broken up by
the people, and the bronze, said to have weighed 17,300
pounds, was sold to the Duke of Ferrara, who converted
it into a piece of ordnance, under the appropriate name of
Julian. It is recorded of this statue, the loss of which
will ever be deplored by the lovers of art, that when
Michael Angelo asked the warlike pontiff whether he
should put a book in his hand, he replied, " A book ! no;
let me grasp a sword ; I know nothing of letters. —Hand-
book for Italy, ti-c.
THE DUCHESSE DE MAZARIN AT CHELLES.—The
noble Roman outline of her face was seen to great advan-
tage at the moment in which we have brought her under
the attention of our readers. Her eyes were of that deep
and peculiar blue, which in moments of emotion almost
darken into black, while in those of repose they possess
the liquid softness in which the soul appears to swim in
the atmosphere of its own purity ; large, full, and exqui-
sitely shaped, when they met those of the person to whom
she spoke, it seemed as though the gazer could look far
into their depths but still there was no passion in their
expression ; they were remarkable, rather for thoughtful-
ness and intellect than for tenderness or coquetry. Her
nose was fine, and delicately chiselled, and gave a haught-
iness to her beauty, which was softened into a new charm
by the graceful melody of her voice, the ringing joyous-
ness of her laugh, and the softness of the lovely mouth
whence it escaped. Her complexion was of the most ex-
quisite fairness ; and the bloom which flushed and faded
upon her cheek was so pure and delicate, that it gave an
ethereal character to her whole appearance. Her hair,
which was as black and bright as jet, was swept smoothly
back from her forehead, and folded in a score of heavy
braids, which, were collected into a mass on the summit
of her small and graceful head, where they were confined
by bodkins of pearl. Her shape, perfect in itself, had
lost somewhat of its charm, from her distaste to all con-
ventional and coercive modes of dress, which had induced
an habitual carelessness, and given a freedom to her figure,
that bad tended to increase its size, although it had failed
in injuring its symmetry, otherwise than by detracting
from the appearance of height, which her really lofty
figure must, under other circumstances, have conveyed.
As she sat that morning in the convent-parlour, busied
with her embroidery, she was enveloped in a douillette
of satin damask, elaborately wrought in coloured silks
upon a ground of white, and girt about her waist by a.
thick gold cord and tassels, while her sleeves, in the Ori-
ental style, were closed only to the elbow, whence they
fell back in ample folds, and revealed arms so beautiful
that they would have been the worship of a statuary.—
Aineteorlh's Magazine.,

THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD

AN OLD MAN WHOSE FATHER LIVED IN
THE TIME OF OLIVER CROMWELL.

(From the Manchester Guardian.)

Having heard of the extraordinary circumstance of an
old man, named James Horrocks, in his hundredth year,
living in Harwood, about three miles from Bolton, whose
father lived in the time of Oliver Cromwell, we took an
opportunity a few days ago, of visiting this venerable
descendant of a sire who was contemporary with the re-
nowned Protector. Here we found the old man, sur-
rounded with every comfort, which easy circumstances
and affectionate friends can afford, and to use his own
language, " neither tired of living, nor yet afraid to die."
He is a remarkably good looking old man, with long sil-
very locks, and a countenance beaming with benevale,,e
and good nature. He has nearly lost the use of hi, eye-
sight, and is a little dull of hearing ; yet he is embled to
walk about. On observing to him that he muse have been
a tall man in his youth, he sprang up from his arm chair,
with the elasticity of middle age, rather than decrepitude.
A short time ago, on coming down stairs in the morning,
he observed to his daughter, with his accustomed good
humour and buoyancy of spirit, "I wonder what I shall
dream next; I dreamt last night that I was going to be
married again ; and who knows but I could find somebody
that would have me yet." His son•in-law is an old grey-
headed man, much harder of hearing than himself ;
and it frequently happens, that when any of the family
are endeavouring to explain any thing to him, old James
will say, " Stop, and I'll insense him ;" and his lungs
seldom fail in the undertaking.
From this interesting family we learn, that William
Horrocks, the father of the present James, of whom we
have been speaking, was born in 1657, four years after
Oliver Cromwell was declared protector, and one year
before his death. He would be two years old when Ri-
chard Cromwell, who succeeded his father, resigned ; and
four years old when Charles 11. was crowned in 1661.
The exact period of his first marriage we have not been
able to ascertain ; but it is certain that his bride was em-
ployed as nurse in the well-known family of the Cheet-
hams, either at Turton Tower, or at Castleton Hall, near
Rochdale. By this marriage he had four children, as ap-
pears from memorandums, written in an excellent hand in
the back of an old black letter Bible, printed in 1583.
At what time his wife died, we are also unable to aster-
tam ; but there is no doubt that he remained a widower
for many years, and at length married his housekeeper, a
comely, blooming young woman, whose kindness to the
old man was unremitting, and he married her in 1741, at
the age of 84, she being at the time only 26.
This marriage evidently attracted much attention in the
neighbourhood, and we find that, about two years after-
wards, the old man and his youthful partner were sent
for to Castleton Hall, the residence of a branch of H um-
phry Cheetham's family, where they were treated with
great kindness; and a portrait painter engaged to take their
likenesses, which are now in the possession of their son,
and add much to the interest of a visit to him. These
portraits are well executed; and, of course, appeared ra-
ther like those of a grandfather and his grandchild than
of husband and wife, although he appears more like! 60
than 86. In front of each painting is prominently in-
scribed the age of each of the parties, and the date when
the portrait was taken. Upon that of the husband the
inscription is, " /ETA : 86-1743." And upon that of
the wife, " /ETA : 28-1743." These, it appears, were
taken two years after their marriage, and preserved in the
Cheetham family at Castleton Hall, as great curiosities.
In the following year, the present James was born, as
appears from the following entry on the back of the same
old Bible :—" James, the son of William and Elizabeth
Horrocks, of Bradshaw Chapel, was born Match 14th,
1744."
The old man was only eleven years'old when his father
died, and has no recollection of hearing him mention any
remarkab'e event occurring in his life time.
As an instance of the health and vigour of this remark-
able old man, it may be mentioned, that ten years ago, in
the winter of 1832.3, he attended at Newton to vote for
Lord Molyneux, then a candidate for South Lancashire.
He was then in his ninetieth year. He walked from Har-
wood to Bolton, a distance of three miles. From thence
he went to Newton by the railway ; and. having voted, he
by some means missed the train, and walked to Bolton,
a distance of fifteen miles. On arriving there he took
some refreshment, and again sent out for Harwood, and
accomplished the distance of 21 miles in the day, in the
depth of winter !

ANECDOTE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.—It is related of
Sir Walter Scott, that not long before his " Lay of the
Last. Minstrel" made its appearanc , while crossing the
Frith or Forth in a ferry-boat with a friend, they pro-
posed to beguile the time by writing a number of verses
on a given aubject, and at the end of an hour's poring and
hard study, the product of Sir Walter (then Mr.) Scott's
fertile brain, adding thereto the labour of his friend, was
six lines. " It's plain," said Scott to his fellow-labourer,
then unconscious of his great powers, " that you and I
need not think of getting our living by writing poetry."
INDIAN CUSTOMS.—These Indians have many remark-
able customs. Before undertaking a war, their warriors
fast forty days in a solitary cabin constructed of bark.
During this period, they eat barely sufficient to keep
themselves alive. They also sacrifice dogs ; and having
tied the dead bodies to trees about six feet above the
ground, they proceed to paint the noses and stomachs of
the victims with a deep red colour. They consult pro-
phets, who are provided with sacred utensils, denomina-
ted
medicine bags ; and which contain the skins of
" shunks," with other precious articles. When the war-
riors return from their fast, the people make a great feast
on dogs which have been fattened for the occasion. None
but men are allowed to attend. At the appointed hour,
the wail-tors may be seen travelling to me renaezvous ;
each carrying, with great solemnity, his wooden bowl and
wooden spoon. At the house appointed for the feast, the
dead dogs are in readiness, together with a profusion of
boiled Indian corn and beans. My host was present on
one of these occasions, and took particular notice of the
ceremonies. Some of the warriors began by cutting the
dogs into equal portions, which they placed in a large iron
kettle over a fire, and boiled for about half an hour. The
remainder of the guests reclined upon mats on both sides
of the house, while the fire burned briskly at the centre,
the smoke escaping through an opening in the roof. The
corn and beans were placed all round the room ii. wooden
dishes upon the ground. The dog meat being sufficiently
boiled, the pieces were taken out, and every person pre-
sent received his share. A distinguished " brave" now
arose, and made a speech ; after which, a second stood up
and repeated the monosyllable " ugh." At this signal,
all iegan to eat ; holding the pieces of canine flesh in their
hands without knives or forks, and devouring with all their
might. This feast on dogs is considered a sort of penance.
Whoever swallows the whole of his portion is called a
big brave; while those who are made sick by it, are de-
nominated squaws. The men of this tribe enjoy them-
selves exceedingly at their villages during the winter,
visiting one another with great sociability. All the bard
work devolves upon the women, who cut down trees for
firewood, make the fires, and minister like slaves to the
comfort and luxury of their lords. These Indians, not-
withstanding their neglect of the squaws, have many
courteous and gentlemanly habits. They have no profane
wold in their vocabulary, and the most abusive words
employed by them are liar, rascal, hog, and squaw.
They, however, catch with facility the profane expressions
of the whites, which they use with great readiness, and
without understanding their signification. Thus, they
will often employ an oath as a friendly salutation ; and,
while kindly shaking bands with a friend, will curse him
in cheerful and pleasant tones of voice.—The 04/ of the
Mormons; or, Three Days at Nauvoo.

FARMING 1N VAN DIEMEN'S LAND.—" What system
of farming," said 1, " do they follow most in this coun-
try ?" " System ? Bless you, you don't suppose they
follow any system here. The way they go on is quite
disgusting to me ; they know no more of farming than a
Londoner. They don't know how to grow anything."
"No wheat?" " Yes, they do grow wheat—such as it
is." " Barley ?" " Yes ; barley." " Oats ?" " Not
seen much oats; however, I believe they can grow."
" Potatoes ? " "Oh ! plenty of potatoes." " Vegeta-
bles ?--cabbages, peas, beans, and such like ? " " Yes ;
I can't say but they can grow 'em ; but they're too large
to please me,
it stands to reason. that things can't grow properly with
and I'm sure they grow too quick ; besides,
the soil just disturbed as it 's done here. A man in my
country would be ashamed to call it digging. And then
to see what they call a field of wheat ! I call it a field of
stumps ! And where there's po stumps they don't do
much better. They just put the plough once through it,
and there lies the sod turned up with the grass growing
on it ; and then a weaver chap, or a London pickpocket,
comes with the seed in a bag, and oh, my eyes, how I
laughed ! he flings it about as if he was feeding the
chickens ,• and then another chap comes with a large
branch of a tree, drawn by a couple of oxen, and he
sweeps the grain about, and that they call harrowing
and when that's done they just leave it." " And what
becomes of it?" " Oh, first the cockatoos get a good
bellyful, and then the parrots and magpies have a peck
at it. But it comes up at last." " Well, that's some-
thing." " Yes, maybe ; but it oughtn't to come up done
in that slovenly way. It's a shame to waste good seed
so. And then, when they do get a bit of land a little—
no, not in order, but—out of disorder, how they do work
it, dear me ! What do you think a sort of cockney chap
said to me at Pitt-water, for I've been over there? Says
Ito him, ' Friend,' says I, bow often do you let your
land lie fallow in these parts ? " Fallow,' says he,' what's
that ?' ''You're a pretty chap to be a farmer,' said 1,
not to know what lying fallow means. Why, lying
fallow means letting the land rest a bit to recover itself
for another crop.' Oh,' says he, our land in this place
I never lies fallow, as you call it ' • we just put the same
crop in every year. There—that field has grown wheat
for eleven years.' What! have you had the cruelty,'
said I,' to put wheat on that bit of land for eleven years ?'
'To be sure I have,' said he, and shall grow wheat on it
for eleven years longer, if I live.' Master, you might
have knocked me down with a feather; I never before
heard anything so horrid. I felt sure at once that no
good was to be done in a country where creatures harrow
with branches of trees, and treat their land so cruelly.
But it was worse than that when I came to look more
into it. I know you won't believe it; they'll never be-
lieve it of me when I get back to Shropshire. This very
bit of land that I've told you of. that the creature grew
corn on for eleven year without stopping, never had—no
—not so much as a handful of manure the whole eleven
year. What do you think of that ? Would any Christian
farmer in England treat his land so? Why, it 's against
nature!'" I now began to understand the sort of man I
had to deal with ; one of those obstinate sons of the soil
who cannot be made to understand that it is possible to
carry on farming in any other way than the way which
they have been accustomed to ; and whose prejudices
against innovation are so strong, that they will not believe
in the truth of what they see with their own eyes, and
wring everything from its true bearing to the backing up
of their 'own notions.—Tales of the Colonies; or, the
-Advent we: of an Emigrant.