The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1833-01-29 00:00:00

Orti*V.

THE GLADIATOR.
(From The House of Colberg ; a Tragedy. By T. J. Serle.)

" Calbeig. See you yon statue ?
Hermann. The gladiator ! Ay, my lord ; sometimes
I've looked upon it till l've almost wept.
Col. You feel a pity for that gladiator
Are we not all such 3 Are we not all doomed
To waste our generous spirits in a strife
Of baseness ? Mark the world. There is the soldier,
Whose valour is hired out—perchance to quell
A nobler daring in a holier cause ;
And hear the statesman's eloquence—when pleads he
For truth :done and right ? The philosopher
Wrestles in noble energy with vice ;
But ere he enters on the fatal lists,
His doom is preordained :—e'en the blithe poet,
That builds a perfect world unto himself,
Whose wishes are creation, is awaked
From his fond dream of luxury, to strive
With envy and detraction, sneering folly,
Biting indifference, till his vital warmth
Is spent like *water 'gainst a rock of ice,
Congealing to like stillness. The true patriot—
How often does he press the gift of liberty
In vain on slaves, and perish by the hands
Of those he would have bless'd All noble things
Are made for the cruel sport of baser natures :
The world is their great audience ; it applauds,
Pities perhaps, and Cheers, then ends the theme
By saying 'twas gallant pastime. When I think thus,
I pity not him whom ignoble death
Frees from a more ignoble life."

AN EVENING THOUGHT.
(From The Chameleon.)

How soon, behind my skiff's calm way,
The willing waters close again I
It leaves no line of broken spray
Along the scarcely ruffled plain.
So let me glide through peaceful life,
Bequeathing not one sad regret
To aught I've loved, nor thought of strife,
For, in forgiving, I forget I

Yet would I not 'twere worth no note,
What I have done, or hope to do :
No more than hid I'd wish the spot
I've left, or yon I'm steering to.
Behind, the east is dark; but lo !
The west is blushing red with light;
Hail to the omen ! may it show
At least my setting will be bright

THE DESTRUCTION OF SE NNACHERIB.

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold.
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea !
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners of sunset were seen :
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn lalth blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd ;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride :
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold, as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Rath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord
BYRON.

V r.1.-MS TIES.

ON FLIES WALKING UP GLASS, AGAINST GRAVITY.—LSOMC
time ago Mr.Blackwall,"one of our most ingenious and original
observers, read a paper to the Linunan Society, adducing facts
discordant with Sir E. Home's opinion that flies walk up glass
by means of a vacuum produced in their foot, on the principle
of the boy's leather sucker. I think it highly provable that Mr.
Blackwall is not aware of some of his views having been anti-
cipated nearly two hundred years ago. "The common fly,"
says Dr. Power, "hath sit legs, but goes only upon four; he
two foremost she makes use of instead of hands, with which you
often sec her wipe her mouth and nose, and take up any thing
to eat. The other four legs arc cloven, and armed with little
daws or talons (like a catamout,) by. which she lays hold on
the rugositics and asperities of all bogies she walks over, even
to the supportance of herself, though with her back downwards
and perpendicularly inversed to the horizon. To which pur-
pose, also, the wisdom of nature hath endued her with another
singular artifice, and that is, a fuzzy kind of substance like
.littie sponges, with which she hath lined the soles of her feet,
which substance is also repleted with a whitish viscous liquor,
which she can at pleasure squeeze out, and so sodder and be-
glow herself to the. plain she walks on, which otherwise her
.gra-
vity would hinder (were it not for this contrivance,) especially
when she walks in those inverted positions.—Field Naturalist's
Magazine.

SIR A. B. FAULKNER'S VISIT TO GERMANY (THE ELEC-
TORATE OF HEssE.)—l have been here only a very few days,
and never was I more heartily sick of any place in my exis-
tence. What must it be for an utter stranger to be banished
to such a place for a life time ! yet one such case there actually
is, lingering iu hopeless poverty, at the wretched Wabern—an
American lady, doomed by a most wayward succession of ill
luck, to breathe On through days and months and years of this
"living death," with hardly means to supply the most inexor-
able of the demands of nature. She was married to a German
officer in the commissariat during the first American war, who
died without leaving a farthing. This poor widow now wholly
depends for escaping the wretchedness of high-way beggary on
the gratuity of a few dollars a year, ill paid from the bounty of
the elector, a sum hardly sufficient even in this cheap country
to cover her " looped and widowed raggedness" and keep her
in potatoes. To her other heavy griefs this poor lost gentle-
woman adds the miseries of age far advanced, and of more ra-
pidly advancing infirmities. Yet are these ills as nothing; she
says, in comparison of the desolation she suffers, without hav
ing one friend to whom she can unburden her sorrows. She
has daughters living in- the village,- but they arc " strangers
cxpially to her heart and to herself;" having, at a very early age,
married labourers and stone-breakers, and become ethbrutecl
by their society into a state of utter indifference to their mo-
ther's feelings, which they cannot understand; and one crumb
have they not to spare frOrn their hard earnings towards her
support. Become familiar with scenes of distress in a place
where poverty is only kept at bay by the dint of hard labour, so
far as appearances are concerned, they see little in their mo-
ther's lot varying from that of other .paupers with whom they
are familiar. The- parent's keen pang of remembered days,
they, of course, knew nothing about, so that they can feel no
sympathy, and offer no consolation. On the contrary, the
wretched'ho'ydeus are perpetually before her eyes only as mo-
numents of her misfortunes, adding gall to a cup of bitterness
Irnich.already overflows. Perhaps it is impossible for simple
misfortune, unaggravated by guilt, to go much farther. The
poor gentlewoman's story is but too well authenticated; and
were it not so, her withered worn look of despair, and the in-
genious manner and way of telling her simple narrative; were,
God knows, evidence enough to rebuke the doubts of the most
heartless suspicion. One may easily discern, through the veil
which her years and sufferings have spread over her features,
that she has been handsome in her day. She still retains the
air of a gentlewoman; and now and then, as she talked of her
country, would grow cheerful. The recollection of her early
years seemed to light up her intelligent features for a moment
like the flitting gleam of a Winter sky. It was but for a mo-
ment. The ordinary cast of her features was in harmony with
her feeling of deep settled sadness, yet blending rather with ie-
bignation than despair. It is a great struggle to wear out the
dregs of life in this way.

ANRCDOTt OF BURRE.—During one of the debates on
affairs of America, Hartley, the member for Hull, after ha
driven four-fifths of a very, full house from the benches 14
unusually dull speech, at length requested that the Riot
might be read, for the purpose of elucidating one of his
salons. Burke, who was impatient to address the House
self, immediately started up and exclaimed, "The Riot A
dearest friend, why, in the name of everything. that's sad
have the Riot Act read ? The mob you see, is already
persed !" Peals of laughter followed the utterance of
comic appeal, which Lord North frequently declared to be
of the happiest instances of wit he ever heard.—Georgian
SPORTING CALCULATIONS.-ISt. In the course of along
hunting, it is 10 to 1 in favour of a bold and good rider,
mounted, that he meets any accident at all-2d. Supposill
falls, it is 8 to 1 that either he or his horse is 'material-11
jured.-3rd. It is 6 to 1 the horse is hurt, and not the ride
4th. If the rider is hurt, it is 12 to 1 that a bone is not bre))
sth. It is '2O to 1, if a bone is broken, that the wound is
mortal. Ergo, 10 8 6 20=115,200=1
1 V, 1 >C I=l. And 115,200=1 :—Thus stated, it deo
That he has no fall is 10 to 1; that himself or horse is not t
80 to 1; that it is his horse and not himself, 480 to 1; that
bone is broken, 5760 to 1 ; that the hurt is not mortal, 115,

to 1. Ergo, out of 115,206 persons who go out hunting ill]
Morning, only one is supposed to end his course that way fl
the effect of that day's diversion.—From the American Ca
of Narural History.

JULIUS C.,ESAR AT HONlE.—About thirty years ago, a
merchant in Dundee, was pretty generally unders
to be under petticoat government. He had a party of gel
men one evening at his house, who were beginning to sus
they were sitting too long after supper, and who accorch
were preparing to depart, alleging that they were afraid
Mrs. , who had before lett them, would be beginniD
weary—" No, no," cries the hospitable landlord, " sit still-
still—never mind that, I'll be Julius Cwsar in my own hou
Alas ! the lady overheard the boast—ere five minutes daps
shrill small voice from the half-opened door exclaimed, "
Caesar, come awa to your bed." A summons to which, hove
reluctantly, obedience must be given.—D undee Courtitutil
THE CRITIC REBUKED.—The first sermon which Hall 1

vered, at Cambridge, after he had assumed the office of p
was on the doctrine of the atonement, and its practical
dencies. Immediately after the conclusion of the service,
of the congregation, who had followed poor Mr. Rob.
through all his changes of sentiment, went into the vestry,
said, "Mr. Hall, this preaching won't do for us: it will
suit a congregation of old women." "Do you mean,
sermon, sir, or the doctrine ?" "Your doctrine." "Why
that the doctrine is fit only for old women ?" "Because it
suit the musings of people tottering on the brink of the gl
and who are eagerly seeking.comfort." "Thank you, sir,
your concession. 'the doctrine will not suit people of any
unless it be true; and if it be true, it is not fitted for old we
alone, but is equally important at every age."—Dr. Grego
Memoir of Robert Hall.
ROB ROY.—The name of M'Gregor became a doomed J,
and the clan whose patronymic it was, an-outlawed body,
venge or in punishment of some real or alleged excesses C
milted by its leading members, so early as the commence
of the fifteenth century; and, while their possessors
marked out for the vengeance of the law or of the court
same thing then—the lands were gifted away to the preva
minions of power, and their favourites and dependents. A
tural son of the Duke of Albany laid hold of the district c
Balquidder for his share of the spoil, while a decree of
Council of State, in which body his father's influence was
powerful, with eastern sang froid proclaimed a reward for cc
head of a M'Gregor, " properly authenticated," that was
warded to its president. While the state condescends t!)
paymaster's, the cutting off the heads of defenceless men
ways too profitable a traffic, not to have many followers,
certain laird of Drumscrag cultivated this commerce or
changing heads for "marks" with so much success, that he 01
got a title from a people, whose language has more nicknal
than any other ever spoken, expressive of his skill in the cc
tion. Like an industrious man, he always carried his 0
goods to market. On one occasion, while he was proceed
on horseback with a sackful, and their certificates, he was
or overtaken, by a brother Highlander, who civilly inquired
the course of conversation, what he had got in his bag. " V
can of the heads" boasted, pedlar-like, of his commodities-'
must have felt rather astonished at the speed with which his
tensed fellow-traveller set about adding the owner's own 1
cious one to the number. This man had purposely wa!"
him. He was a M'Gregor, and the bloody heads of his na
sakes found a decent grave, and Drumscrag a deserved dE
on the spot.

THE EXILED BOURBONS.—We take the following
i from
Ami de la Religion :—" The Royal exiles are living n the .
lace of Hradschin, at Prague, an immense antique built
whose only advantage is that it completely commands the i
and the environs to a vast extent. Thence are descried
windings of the Moldau, which flows through the town, (licit'
it into two parts, which are united by a single bridge, that h
which St. Johan Mepomuk was thrown in 1383, and on wb
his statue is placed at the spot from which he was precipits
into the river, and which is always saluted by the inhabitant
they pass with great veneration. Though the view which
Ilradschin commands is magnificent, nothing can be 1:13
sombre than its interior, which consists of vast apartmel
without carpets or curtains, and indeed almost entirely with
furniture; no fire-places, but instead of them cumbrous stet
with heavy domes to them, and an almost universal °doll'
tobacco-smoke. There is ample room for exercise under col
for the corridors are interminable. The apartments and chi
bers are not fewer in number than 700. The Royal Family
course, cccupy but a very small portion of them, and yet
ample accommodation for their friends and visitors. At the
ginninn. of December the cold was very severe, and the 11
began to be frozen over, for though broad it is not deep.
town affords but few of the pleasures of life, but provisions
cheap, and the manufactures are much the same as in I;rato
The nobility form good society when assembled in the tot
but in summer they retire to their country-seats. The Frei
exiles lead a most monotonous life. Being entirely foreigol
unacquainted with the language and manners of the peel
they are almost without society and its resources. Charles
has scarcely quitted his bed for six weeks, and has not been'
of the Palace since his arrival. He has had an attack of
gout, much more severe than any to which he had been e
before subject, and no doikt his recluse mode of life must 131
had a bad effect upon his general health. The King, the'
suffering with Christian resignation, must be cruelly affef
by his present state, though there are no symptoms which"'
those around him to apprehend any immediate fatal NV
quences.—Galignaa s Messenger.
ENGLISH AND ITALIAN FEhIALES.—The young women
England, under a stormy and inconstant sky, have hearts'
minds peaceful and serene, always equable, and always '
cile. My amiable countrywomen, under a heaven per
tually smiling, have minds and hearts alwayi in a temp
The former are educated for quiet and domestic Itlicity 5 el
thing conduces to this end, the order and system of their li .
the simplicity of their food, the climate, compelling theta.,
live in doors, the silence that reigns within and without tO.
homes, their long residences in the country, all tend to sOt
or to set to sleep their passions. While the latter, anima'
by the continual sight of the world, stimulated by a thous 4
objects, now treated tyrannically, now over-caressed, and thld
unreasonably contradicted, carried to the theatres and croit
streets, seem educated to give vent to their passions, broel
up only to be haughty and spirited. Hence, they are jug
maned, greedy of distinction, made more beautiful by the 11'
desire of pleasing, but tormented with a restless rivalry;'
happy themselves, they too often make all around so. A. 0
and excellent comparison of the English women and 1
Italian may be found in the " Corinne of Madame de SO
Corrinna, all fancy, all impulse, all love of glory, alltpassii
was unhappy, and would have made her English loveeunhapl
had she married him. Lucia, instead, all good sense, sweeto
modesty, and filial affection, was happy in her- obscurity,
promised happiness to her husband. Lucia after spendl,
two hours of the morning in painting a beautiful rose, satin
and contented, shuts it up in her portfolio: CorinnEtis dissal
fled and discontented with her talent, unless she declainO,
hymn, and receives thunders of applause from thousand
auditors. Instead of producing extempore poetesses, sail
the Bandettinis, the Mazzeis, and the Corillas, is it not bev.,
to produce affectionate wives and sensible mothers of family
Is not the picture of a happy family (Pamelawith her chili:le,
more touching than that of the coronation of Corilla in t:
capital ? Italy boasts Nina, Senti, Stampa, Julia Arao,
I
and many other modern imeovisatrici ; but would it not 0
tended more to the happiness of its families to have FO'
women as Miss Edgeworth, Miss Aikin, and Mrs. Hamii;e
who have written works for the education of children ? • I°
better to envoy a brief youth of tumultary pleasures, or au 6,
tire life full ol sweet affections; the first -like a torrent ''',
dashes triumphantly over the rocks for a space, and then lea'
its bed dry and arid; the second like a river that flows hew
humble banks, but tows for ever. To this preachifying dull,.
a witty Frenchwoman would reply, that she preferred a...,'.
courte et bonne (short and good, that is brilliant)—a sober D •
lishwoman wishes it long and comfortable (that is serene
Count Pacchoi's Italian L.rile in England.