The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1835-09-18 00:00:00

A STAGE-STRUCK HERO.

J. Howe, otherwise Coriolauus Kemble Dorsille, a pale-faced
young man, with a flourishing crop of dark hair, arranged in
the style of a Richard the Third theatrical wig, was brought be-
fore Mr. Dyer and Mr. Climbers r:hvrged by the parish offi-
cers of St. George's, London, with having deserted his wife and
family.
The defendant, a short time back, was an industrious calico-
printer, earning at his trade from £2 to £2 10s. weekly. Hav-
ing, however, at sundry. " free-and-easies," been rapturously
applauded in his delineation of .the " Crook-back'd Tyrant,".ha
at once conceived his genius was essentially histrionic, and' for
the last fifteen months bad left his wife and family to starve
while he exhibited his talents at some of the minors for half-a-
crown nightly. The wife, having lately discovered that her
stage-struck helpmate had contrived- to persuade a youag fe-
male to enact Juliet to his Romeo, found out where he lodged,
and gave his address to the parish-officers. While the consta-
bles were in the chase of her faithless spouse the enraged wife
rushed into the room where her rival sat, and belaboured her
'with silk b fury that had not the bystanders interposed the " love-
lorn Capulet" would have stood a fair chance of realising the
last act in the tragedy without resorting to Romeo's dagger.
Mr. Dyer.—What do you mean by deserting your wife and
family ?
Defendant (folding his arms theatrically.)—l deny, solemnly
deny, the charge. lam ready to return home to my wife and
little ones.

Mr. Dyer.—You have been committed from this office once
before for the same offence.
Defendant,—'Tis true, 'tie pity, and pity 'tis 'tis true. My
wife is reconciled. In token whereof she gave me this money,
a shilling, to get a whet.
quite false. I never gave you a farthing.
Defendant (holding up his arms)—Are there no stones in
Heaven? (Rushing forward to the bar.) Ministers of justice,
do your worst, give me ten, fifteen, or twenty months, I
care
not. She has sworn she never gave me a shilling.
Mr. Chambers.—Let us have less of your theatrical nonsense.
Why have you left your wife and faintly, and what have you
heen doing since?
Defendant.—l have shined at the minors ; and at the last
Bartholomew fair I was a vocal " star."
Mr. Dyer.— I don't see anythiug io your case to call fur mi.
tigation. You must go to prison for three months.
Defendant.—lle! three months. Mercy ! mercy but if
none then —. Here the defendant went into the corner, btu_
vied his face in his hands, and assumed the most approved woe-
begone theatrical attitude,
The gaoler, however, roused him up roughly, and walked him
expeditiously into the lock-up room.

THE EVENING HOURS.

Sweet evening hour! sweet evening.hour !
That calms the air and shuts the flower,
That brings the wild bee to its pest,
The infant to its mother's ()least.
Sweet hour! that bids the labourer cease,
That gives the weary team release,
And leads them home and crowns them there
With rest and shelter, food and care.
0, season of soft sounds and hues,
Of twi►ight walks among the dews,
Of feelings calm and converse sweet,
And thoughts too shadowy to repeat !
Yes, lovely hour ! thou art the time
When feelings flow and wishes climb;
When timid souls begin to dare,
And God receives and answers prayer.
Then trembling through the dewy skies
Look out the stars with thoughtful-eyes
Of angels, calm reclining there,
And gazing on the world of care.
Sweet hour! for heavenly musing made,
When Isaac walked, and Daniel prayed;
When A,liram's offering -God (lid own,
And Jesus loved to be alone.

Rev. H. F. LYTE.

ON .THE SIGHT OF A MANSE IN THE SOUTH OF
SCOTLAND.

Say, ye far-travelled clouds, far-seeing hills,
Among the bappiest,looking homes °linen,
Scattered all Britain over, through deep glen,
On airy upland, and'hy forest rills,And o'er wide plains whereon the sk)
distils
Her lark's lov'd warblings, does aught meet your ken
More fit to animate the poet's pen,
Aught that more surely by its aspect fills
Pure minds with sinless envy, than the abode
Of thegoorl priest, who, faithful through all hours
To his high charge, and truly serving God,
Has vet a heart and baud fdr trees and flowers,
Enjoys the walks his predecessors trode,
Nor covets lineal rights in lands and towers?
WORDSWORTH.