The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1845-06-10 00:00:00

SELECTIONS.

A HINT TO TAE LORDS.—There has been a deal of talk
in the House of Commons about some new marine glue,
which is so adhesive that when two things have been
joined together by it, it is impossible to separate them. If
it were made into lip-salve, what a friendly present it
would be to Lord Brougham.—Punch.
ALBERT'S BROKEN HEART.— Among the crowd
around St. Paul's, on the Festival of the Sons of the
Clergy, an old woman asked of a bystander the meaning
of the star on Prince Albert's left breast. " Why, you
see," replied the knowing one, " the Queen's eyes had
such an effect on his heart, that she stuck that cement
there, as we do petty on a shivered pane, to prevent it
going to pieces.—Joe Miller the Younger.
ORIGIN OF CONSUMPTION.—Among the remote causes
of phthisis, the hereditary is almost universally allowed to
be the most frequent ; but the exceptions to this rule are
sufficiently numerous to show that there is stilt much to
be learned before this subject can be cleared np. Chil-
dren, whose parents have both perished from this disease,
are supposed to be more liable to it than those deprived of
but one; I cannot say that my experience leads me to
this opinion. In several instances, in which both parents
-died of consumption, I have see-‘, out of a large family,
but one or two children cut off, the others remaining
healthy ; sometimes, on the other hand, the whole family
has been destroyed. Similar calamities have appeared to
me as frequently where one parent only has been afflicted
with the disease. At other times the families of con-
sumptive parents enjoy excellent health ; whilst, on the
contrary, the children are sacrificed to the disease—the
parents, at the same time, being apparently in health.
The hereditary origin of such disease may be questioned,
although I le-lieve they have no other source.—Hastings
on Consumption.

ROUSSEAU A TIIIEF AND A LlAR.—After living ob..
scurely in Turin in a lodging-house for common people at
half a sous a night, he now entered as a footman the ser-
•vice of the Countess de Vercellia, and wore livery with
the rest of the servants. In the course of a few months
this lady died, and the servants were of course dismissed.
It was found that a ribbon bid tigen stolen ; all were in-
terrogated, and Rousseau, in 7vhose possession it was
found, and who was in fact the thief, had the wickedness
to charge it upon an innocent girl ; he persisted in aver-
ring that she had stolen it to give him, there baying been
some little love making between them. The ruin of this
poor girl was the consequence, and he describes the bitter
agonies of remorse which be ever after endured in re.
leafing on the crime thus committed. He endeavours
•to explain it in a refined, absurd, and false manner, by
saying that his love for Marian caused it all, because be
had stolen it to give her, and this put it into his head to
think of accusing her of the same intention. But the
truth is that his cowardice, the parent of lies, caused it all.
He never would have dared charge a man with the offence.
He thought he could escape exposure and perhaps punish-
ment (though he affects to say he dreaded not that) by
laying the blame on an innocent young girl who bad
shown a liking for him which he returned. He also tries
to represent himself as only a child then, and, writing in
1766 to 1767, speaks of forty years having elapsed. But
this is not true.—Lord Brougham's Men of Letters.

LORDJOHN RUSSELL ANDTHE ULTRA FREE•TRA DERS.
I —Occasioaally his diction rises into a lofty simplicity of
style—a clear-seeing impartiality, shewing his mind ele-
vated above the excitements of the hour—which is almost
too free from party spirit for the atmosphere of the House
of Commons. You might aimost suppose you were hear-
ing history read. This does not always suit the vulgar and
depraved appetites of his Radical and Dissenting suppor-
ters,i who require that their leader should be more re-
pregnated with their own political and sectarian animosi-
ties. The parliamentary organs of the Anti-Corn-law
League, too, think lie should enter more w •raily into their
fight with the landed interest. Now and then you hear
murmurs of rebellion in their ranks; out of doors they
are most valiant in their refusal t.. be any longer led by
such a faineant, as they term him ; but when the time for
action comes, they are glad enough to range themselves
again under his banner. His coolness and tact, they have
learnt, are better guides than their prejudices or passions.
Extreme opinions. they know, however well they may
point a speech on the hustings, will not do for the legis-
lature. Accordingly, they always cry, Peccavi. Their
quiet, determined little leader holds himself aloof till
they come on bended knee to claim his forgiveness.—
Fraser's Magazine.
BURNING A MIDDLEMAN.—The evening had long
deepened into night, yet still she sat and wept ; looking
out into the darkness. Her attention was roused by a
bright and sudden flame shooting upwards ; it could not
be, sbe thought, very far from Spencer Court. She stept
to the window and saw what, at the moment, she hoped
might be a bonfire, at the foot of one of the nearest moun-
tains. She thought she heard the winding of a horn, and
an halloo. She opened the casement ; and then, certainly
and distinctly. she heard a horn blown not very far dis-
tant, answered by another, and another. With trembling
eagerness she watched the progress of the fire : after the
first rush of light into the sky, it burnt low and red, and
then gradually rose and rose like a pyre, spreading above
and around, increasing with fearful intensity. After a
while she could see dark figures pass, catching for an in-
stant the brightness of the light ; and so still was the night
that she beard the halloos, the yells, and the horns, issu-
ing their terrible warnings, or calling to the mountain-
dwellers. A dreadful thought took possession of her
mind, and chained her to the spot ; where she continued
to stand without the power to withdraw. " The boys are
early at work this evenin', Miss," said Biddy, from the
garden, in an unconcerned voice, as she looked up at El-
len, " and your's is the only windy in the house that has
so fine a view, Miss, dear ; Mrs. Myler and the rest are
podgering away at the work within. Bedad, if the young
master comes home to-night, he can't but say that Abel
Richards' house makes a flue bonfire to welcome him."
Lawrence Macarthy's words rang upon Ellen's heart; she
could hardly articulate. She fixed her eyes upon the con-
flagration waxing stronger and stronger; it was the near-
est appreach the Fire King of the Whiteboys had yet made
to Spencer Court. " Well !" continued the housemaid,
"he gave many a one a cowld death. It's a hot one he'll
have himself." " Surely, surely, he is not there !" ex-
claimed Ellen. "Oh ! murder, Miss, they wouldn't be
the fools to burn the house and he not in it," was the
cool reply. It would be impossible to describe Ellen's
sensations; her heart beat violently. " I wonder," said
the girl, " would they have been so soon upon Black Aby
only for the word of the soldiers that's to come into Ken-
mare, to-morrow." " Oh, mercy ! what a howl was
that !" exclaimed Ellen, pressing her face into her hands.
" Ah, ab !" laughed the girl below," it was a strong cry,
sure enough. Well, Miss, he was no friend of yours, and
—whisht." She sprang upon a wheelbarrow that was un-
der the window, and light of foot and limb, swung herself
into the balcony. "If any thing—l mane any questions
were to he asked—sure you and I, and that half-witted
Master Mat, could well prove an alibi for Mr. Lawrence;
sure, I saw him with you all this evening." " Mr.• Law-
rence !" repeated Ellen, drawing herself up proudly.
" Mr. Lawrence!" how dare you to suppose him to be
concerned in such an autrage as that." " Outrage ! I
call it justice, Miss Ellen ; and so will all the counthry.
What's come to her at all," she muttered, as the moon at
full, bursting through the clouds, shone upon Ellen, show-
ing her white and rigid as marble. " God bless us, is it
dead standing she is? Well," continued the girl, lifting
her in her arms and lavieg her on the sofa, " well, I never
see the likes o' that. With the glory of that fire through
the country, to think of her taking on so for the burning
of ould Richards !"—The Whilebry, bu Mrs. S. C. Hall.
NECKOLOTEIS.—Our climate, no doubt, requires some
protection for the neck, and while beards are not worn, a
cravat of some kind or other may be said to be necessary ;
but if comfort and use can be combined with elegance
and good taste, and yet the old starched thing got rid of,
so much the better. Let us remark, therefore, that we
have done wrong.in quitting the fashion of the seventeenth
century as to cravats ; we have adopted a stiff and a com-
mon material, and we have lost all opportunity of enjoy-
ment, as well as of ornament. If you ever indulge in a
white choker, good reader, only reflect for a minute on
what you have round your neck—a yard and a half of
stuff, the intrinsic value of which may be a couple of
shillings, plus a pennyworth of starch, plus a neck as
thick as an elephant's leg, and as stiff as a door-post.
minus all grace, minus all comfort. But go and look at
the Second Charles at Hampton Court—see how the
merry monarch managed his neck on gala-days. You
will observe that he had half a yard of the fittest cambric,
as soft as a zephyr, and as warm as swan's-down, tied
once round ; and ending before in lcng deep borders of
the most precious Mechlin lace. worth a guinea or two
a yard, falling gracefully on his breast, or placed for con-
venience into a fold of his coat. How much more sensi-
ble, how much more ornamental, how much more noble,
such a scarf or cravat es this, which n' shopman's boy
could emulate, than the cheap and ugly thing in which
many a man seems to delight ! How admirably did these
bands of rich lace contrast with the silken coats or the
polished cuirasses of their wearers ! how truly aristocratic
was their appearance ! how entirely without effort, with-
out pretension, and yet how very dist:nctive of the type
of their wearer! But you will say, if we fail in the mat-
ter of white cravats, surely we excel in that of black-silk
ones and brocadcd stocks! We might excel, we allow ;
but we do not know how to wear these things. We ought
either to limit ourselves to the smallest possible bow in
front, or else we ought to let the square ends of the scarf
be pend-nt and unconfined. Instead of this, we either
put on a stock with a sham tie, (now alt sham things, of
what kind soccer, militate against good taste,) or else, to
make the most of our scarf, we fill up the aperture of the
waistcoat with an ambitious quantity of drapery, and we
stick therein an enormous and obtrusively ostentatious
pin. This is both vulgar and foolish. If we want s stock,
it should he perfec'ly plain—a la militaire ; for it is, in
truth, an article of military attire, worn for the express
pnrpose of giving stiffness and smartness to the figure.
If we want a scarf, do not let us misconceive the nature
of its form, the law of its curves, and huddle it up into
an untidy, unmeaning mass, fit for nothing but to serve
as a field of display for what is commonly cheap and bad
jewellery. We may be wrong, but we strongly suspect
that the tie-stock and the large silk scarf were brought
into use by some dirty fellow, whose linens would not
stand the test of public examination; and, indeed, when-
ever we see a roan more than usually adorned in this way
about the neck, we conjecture tint all is net right be-
neath. A small black or judiciously coloured cravat,
with a very small bow, and just sufficient stiffness to give
dignity to the head—this should he the morning wear of
the real gentleman ; in the evening, let him put on the
finest fabric of the flax-room, and the most expensive
lace he can afford to purchase—they will be very becom-
mg, and will be duly appreciated by the ladies, who know
the cost of such things; all silks and stocks let him leave
to men-milliners.—" "Esthetics of Dress," in Black-
wood's Magazine.
LIFE OF A BRAMIN.—The first quarter of a Bramin's
life he must spend as a student; during which time be
leads a life of abstinence and humiliation. His attention
should be unremittingly directed to the Vedas, and should
on no account he wasted on worldly studies. He should
treat his preceptor with implicit obedience, and with hum-
ble respect and attachment, which ought to be extended to
his family. He must perform various servile offices for
his preceptor, and must labour for himself in bringing logs
and other materials for sacrifice, and water for oblations.
He must subsist entirely by begging from door to door.
For the second quarter of his life he lives with his wife and
family, and discharges the ordinary duties of a Bramin.
These are briefly stated to be, reading and teaching the
Vedas e sacrificing, and assisting others to sacrifice ; be-
stowing alms and accepting gifts." T: e most honourable
of these employments is teaching. It is remarkable th it,
unlike other religions where the dignity of the priesthood
is derived from their service at the temples, a Bramin is
considered as degraded by performing acts of worship, or
assisting at sacrifices as a profession. All Bramins are
strongly and repeatedly prohibited Irons receiving gilts
from lowborn, wicked, or unworthy persons. They are
not even to take many presents from unexceptionable giv-
era, and are carefully to avoid making it a habit to accept
of unnecessary presents. When the regular sources fail, a
Bramin may. for a mere subsistence, glean, or beg, or
cultivate. or even (in cases of extreme necessity) he may
trade ; but he must in no extremity enter into service ; he
must not have recourse to popular conversation, must ab-
' stain from music, singing, dancing, gaming, and generally
from every composure. lie should, indeed, refrain from
all sensual enjoyments, should avoid all wealth that may
impede his reading the Vedas, and should shun all worldly
honour as he would poison. Yet he is not to subject him-
self to fasts, or other needless severities. All that is re-
quired is, that his life should be decorous, and occupied in
the prescribed studies and observances. Esen hie dress
is laid down with minuteness ; and he may easily be figured
(much as learned Bramins are still) quiet and demure.
clean and decent " his hair and beard clipped, his pas-
sions subdued, his mantle white, and his body pure, with
a staff and a copy of the Vedas in his hands, and bright
golden rings in his ears." When he has paid the three
debts, by reading the Scriptures, begetting a son, and per-
forming the regular sacrifices, he may (even in the second
portion of his life) make over all to his son, and remain in
his family house, with no other employment but that of
an umpire. The third portion of a Bramin's life he must
spend as an anchorite in the woods. Clad in bark, or in
the skin of a black antelope, with his hair and nails un-
cut, sleeping on the bare earth, he must live " without
fire, without a mansion, wholly silent, feeding on roots
fruit." He must also submit to many and barrel mortifi-
cations, expose himself naked to the heaviest rains, wear
humid garments in winter, arid in the summer, stand in
the middle of five fires, under the burning sun. He
must carefully perform all sacrifices and oblations, and
consider it his special duty to fulfil the prescribed forms
and ceremonies of religion. In the last period of his life
the Brunie' is nearly as solitary and abstracted as during
the third. But he is now released from all form and ex-
ternal observances : his business is contemplation—his
mortifications cease. His dress now nearly resembles that
of ordinary Bramins, and his abstinence, though still
great, is not so rigid as before. He is no longer to invite
suffering, but he is to cultivate equanimity, and to enjoy
delight in meditation on the divinity ; till at last he quits
the body, as a bird leaveth the branch of a tree at its plea.
sure.—Elphinstone's India.

PUNISHMENT OF ADULTERY IN NEW ZEALAND.—
The clime of adultery was most severely punished by
Nagarno.u, or " the islands," one of the principal chiefs,
on his wife. He stripped her naked, and dragged her
along the beach by the hair of the head, beating her vio-
lently at intervals. Nor did any one attempt to interfere,
the whole body of natives remaining passive spectators of
the cruel penalty. The adulterer's house was visited by
the assembled relations of the wife and husband, who
plundered it of everything they could lay their hands on,
while he offered no resistance, or even remonstrance, ac-
cording to Maori custom. The taua, or " foray," ex-
tended to a hut belonging to him on the island, from
which Barrett's attendants brought mats, flax, and other
articles, in great glee.— Wakefield's Adventures.
PLEASURES OF SWEARING AN ALIBI.—" Well, Paddy
was overjoyeJ, because his sister was to be married de
same night to a Blackwater boy, and it was mighty con-
vanient to ' attind when called on ;' and get de fun of de
wedding altogedcr—and he says to me, ' I owe you a kind
turn, Murtogh, for de alibi you swore to la-t 'sizes, for
my fader's broder.in-law—asbould as a ram." Oh 1 dat's
noting,' I says, laughing, ' betwixt friends, noting at all ;
it's grate fun, a downright reale alibi, swore and proved
through as good as forty oaths, in an' out—boddering the
bigwigs, just when dey tink dey have it all dere own way ;
de poor boy trembling in de dock wid de rope round bis
neck, and no more trouble to de law, but to pull it ! when
in comes forty witnesses to prove de alibi ! Oh. it's raale
glory !—ani de faces of 'ern !' Well, though he'd no more
mind his call den shooting a rat, he tought a dale of, as he
called it, poor fellow, my parjuring my sowl for his fader's
hroder-in-lai—and more, on account of fearing to go nigh
de priest, to get ase in his own mind—trough a pilgrimage
or someting like dat. So come wid me,' he says, now,
de girls at de Blackwater are as fond as yerself of music;
and we'll settle Connel at de same time ; only, remember,
I'm first, and you're second.' "—The TVhileboy, by Mrs.
S. C. Hall.

CONTEMPORARY ORATORS—SIR ROBERT PEEL AND
LORD JOHN RUSSELL—We have already placed Lord J.
Russell second to Sir Robert Peel in the art of managing
the house.> He certainly must yield to him in that Pro-
tean spirit, that plasticity of temperament which enables
the right hon. baronet to enter at will into, and personate
for the time being, the many opposite characters which he
has filled daring his long career. Although Lord John
Russell has at times shewn that be is cognisant of all the
many shades of difference which mark the opinions of op-
posite Sections of his party—although he, the aristocratic
Whig, can sympathise for the hour with the political eco-
nomist, the advocate of extension of the suffrage, the free
trader, or the Dissenter, still the scale of his operations is
not to be compared with the magnificent sphere occupied
by Sir Robert Peel. Nothing shott of what the late Chas.
Mathews used to call his monopolylogue will satisfy the
latter; the former is content with playing all the parts in
his own peculiar line ; and now and then, perhaps on
great occasions, one or two additional, provided always
they are in the regular dr..naa. But although Lord John
Russell, either from being restrained by principle, or from
the want of skill, may not attempt those bold and gigan-
tic delusions—those mesmeric practices on the credulity
of the House of Commons, which characterise the public
career of Sir Robert Peel, yet there are many points in
respect of which he may, as a speaker, be regarded as su-
perior to his rival. If he does not accomplish as much by
his orations, they often exhibit higher qualities of mind,
and produce the immediate result of pleasing the auditory
with much less appearance of preparation and effort. Sir
Robert gains his end by a tremendous expenditure of
words, a sacrifice of straightforward argument, a transpa-
rent mystification, and a perpetual repetition of his views,
which would be tedious even in a legal advocate. Lord
John trusts rather to a simple, clear, and plain exposition
of his meaning, unambitious, yet pregnant with thought.
He steals in unpretending guise on the attention of his
hearers, pursues his undeviating course without apparent
effort, unfolds all his views without suspicion of prepara-
tion, while leaving no material point undisposed of; and
then, suddenly, when such a thing is least expected, he
strikes out some original and bold conception, something
that rings at once on the intellectual ear as sterling gold
ere even it is tested, that bears away the admiration even
of those who are most prepared to contest the truth of the
proposition it contains, while it charms the whole house
into applause. One such accidental and apparently un-
premeditated stroke raises him instantly far higher in the
esteem of the house, than all the laboured, though succes-
ful sophistries of an orator like Sir Robert Peel.—Fraser.

SPO RTING I N TEL LIGENCE.

TATTERSALL'S, THURSDAY.

Business was too slack to require more than a return of
the closing quotations :
Tug ASCOT STAKES.-IST CLASS (Monday).
I to 1 sgst Mr. Worley's Perkin Warbeck.
ASCOT STAKES.-20 CL ASS (Monday).
7 to 2 agst Mr. A. Johnstone's Annandale (taken).
THE EMPEROR'S VASE AT ASCOT.—(Thursday.)

7 to 4 agst Mr. Irwin's Foig-a-Ballagh (taken).
3—l Mr. Salvin's Mice Hawthorne (taken).
5 —1 Lord Stanley's Ithuriel.

5 to 1 agst Foig-a-Ballagh winning the two Vases, and
30 to 1 agst his winning them and the Goodwood Cup,
both taken.
Colonel Peel has intimated that lonian is not likely to
go to Ascot.

Sr. LEGER.
10 to 1 agst Mr. A. Johnstone's Annandale (taken).
12 1 Mr. Gully's Old England (taken).
20 1 Mr. at. Paul's Mentor (taken).
40 1 Mr. Watt's The Baron (taken).

DERBY.
5,000 to 200 agst Lord Albemarle's lot (taken).
2,000 35 Mr. J. Day's Cambaule's (taken).
2,000 35 Colonel Anson's Sombrero (taken).
2,000 35 Duke of Richmond's Tug is:et (taken).
2,000 —3O Mr. T. Powell's Holloway (taken).

BETTING AT MANCHESTER ON FRIDAY.
The attendance was a medium one ; a few Liverpool
faces brought about further settling. The following nearly
insipid offers may close our remarks:—
THE EMPEROR'S PLATE.

There was no end to offers of 7 to 4 on the field ; at last
2 to I was hazarded and taken, the layers willing to go on.
2 to 1 agst Foig-a-Ballagh (offered)
3 1 Alice Hawthorn (offered)
5 I Ithuriel (offered)
5 1 Cowl (offered)
THE NORTHUMBERLAND PLATE.
10 to 1 was taken to little money on the Queen of the
Tyne, then offered, or on the field. Two or three others
spoken about, but not to our ear backed.