The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1842-09-27 00:00:00

HINTS TO AUTHORS

Yours to command" as the Prince
saiSdetnotinn
ouiergiraßiy
gracious
sl—SZreign. ,
Sentiment National.—" Ease before elegance," as the
American envoy said when be was forbidden the Palace for
coming to Court without a coat.
Sentiment Hospitable.—" Come, and bring your friends
with you," as Wellington said to Napoleon.
Sentiment Historical.—" Your quarters are better than
your father's," as Harry the Eighth said to Cardinal Wol-
sey at Hampton Court.
Sentiment Legal.—" That's a very hard case," as the
Irishman said when he hit his friend on the head.
Sentiment Surgical.—" Remove the limb," as the judge
said when he struck the attorney off the Rolls.
Sentiment Rural.—" I think I must look over it," as the
horse said of the gate which divided it from the clover,
Sentiment Worldly.—" No noose' is good news," as the
criminal said to the hangman.
Sentimental Perspective.—" I'll be doers upon you some
(Ivy," as the old house said to the new tenant.

6entinzent a—vsiciini to an artificial state of
society," as the monkey said when they put trousers upon

Sentiment Contemptuous.—" You are beneath my notice,''
as the hawk said to the field mouse.
Sentiment Apologetical.—" I was really not aware," as
the young rat said to the trap. ,
Sentiment Polite.—" Pray don t wait for me,,, as the
mouse said to the cat.
Thine—ever thine," as the Sentiment Sentimental.—" Would that we ne'er bad met,"
as the man said to the bailiff.
Sentiment Romantic.
—"
bot-
tle nose said to the butler.
._
My corn feels the rain,
These notes enliven me," as the
Sentiment Ayricuttural.—"
theseoilidamwoomitanmsuasiideatio:_be„rsTeillfe.
man said when a remittance came.

TOIFIE TILEA FI4,GITniAt
sßsE.lvr:ligir;e
ropn the authority of the Limerick Chronicle:—
Thewt hrenci following WAS
•‘ colours of the 44th Regiment were preserved to the
TRH COLOVnIt;
last extremity, and until the battalion was reduced to
very
sAtlantesEnsacie)
twelve men, worn out and exhausted, after six days' constant
fight with a vastly superior force, in the midst of frost and
snow. Lieutenant Souter was then made prisoner with the
Queen's colour, but the man who had the regimental colours
wrapped round his body surrendered the precious charge to
the ferocious enemy only with his life, for he was butchered
on the spot. lie was colour serjeant, and an Irishman. fli
name was Carey."

FATAL fatal duel, fought in Cadiz, has been the
engrossing subject of conversation in the Spanish capital.
Senor Reisch, the political chief of Cadiz, having taken
offence at some articles in the Globe journal, sent a hostile
message to the editor, Senor Llorente. Senor Reisch, after
several shots had been fired without effect, proposed that
they should fire at " clothes-burning proximity ', which was
agreed to. The toss to see who should fire first having been
won by the journalist, he made a movement to discharge his
pistol in the air, when his opponent declared, that, if he did
so, he should still insist on his shot at-him and kill him if he
could. Senor Llorente, to save his own life, was obliged to
fire, and shot Senor Reisch through the heart.

DESTRUCTIVE FLOOD AT ADERYSTWITII.—A few days
ago this town was visited by a terrific flood. At eleven
o'clock in the forenoon, a noise was heard resembling that of
distant thunder, and the inhabitants were soon apprised of
the cause by a tremendous body of water rolling several feet
above the waters of the ricer Rhydol, carrying with it carts,
n
wheelbarrows, forks, rakes, and various implements of hus-
bandry. On its reaching the harbour, the force was
u snd,
and
o
smashs the
pow-
erful as to raise the shipping which were lying
to a-ground,
dash them on each other with such fury
as i
masts, yards, and bowsprits of several of them to splinters ;
others sunk to their anchors, and were nearly covered ; ve
boats were instantly dashed to the bottom and hurledsetotrlaul...
ocean. The waters continued to increase for upwards of two
hours, stripping the fields adjoining the bed of the river, ofhay, hay, wheat, oats, and barley ; and
increasing and coming down, da although the waters were
yet the children in Trefec,, n shing and foaming headlong,
middles in the midst of thei 3--
were to be seen up to their
the spoil borne on the stream, endeavouring to catch
element. The most bosom of the apparently infuriated
this phenomenon was, singularti circumstance connected with
west, with a la although the wind was blowing
river forced the tremendousocean
heavy sea, yet the waters of the
mile, filling the bay II back to the apparent, distance of. a-
extending from Graiglas pot to the pier
with fresh water and for upwards of eight hours no awalga.
tion of the fresh and briny elements took place, the bay
remaining as free from salt .
as if it had been a mountain lake.
--Hereford paper,

poet !.

VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE EDDYSTONE
LIGHTHOUSE.

For the Liverpool Standard.
Thou massive pile, that from the ocean's bed,
In conscious strength uprear'st thy stately head,
The furious winds that o'er creation storm,
In vain with ire assail thy stately form ;
The raging seas, the lightning's deadly flash,
The rushing thunder-bolt, all vainly crash
Against thy rocky sides, thy stormy front,
Firm, and unshaken, braves their furious brunt.
When murky midnight broods upon the waves,
And o'er the sea the headlong tempest raves ;
Bright, and blazing burns thy friendly light,
'Midst ll the gloom, and horrors of the night ' -
The storm-pressed seaman on his homeward way,
Sees, and rejoices at thy warning ray;
Long n.say'st thou stand, amidst the rushing tide,
The sailor's friend, his guardian, and his guide.
Liverpool, 1842. R. C

A CLAIM IN AN ALLEGORY

BY ELIZABETH B. BARRETT

Grief sate upon a rock and sighed one day—
Sighing is all her rest.
" Welaway, welaway ! ah, welaway !"
The river beat the rock, and she her breast—
" Ah, welaway ! las me ! ah me, ah me !"
How sorely sighed she.

A Cloud spake out of heaven, softly as rain
That falls on water—" Lo,
The Winds have wandered from me—l remain
Lone in this skiey waste, and cannot go
To lean my whiteness on the mountain blue,
Till wanted for more dew.

" The San bath struck my brain to weary peace,
Whereby constrained and pale
I spin for him a larger golden fleece
Than Jason's—yearning for as full a sail.
0 Grief, when thou hast sighed to thy mind,
Give me thy sighs for wind,

"And let them carry me adown the west."
But Love—who, prostrated,
Lay at Grief's foot, his lifted eyes possest
Of her full image—answered in her steed
" Now nay, now nay ; she shall not give away
What is my own, for my Cloud that flieth !
Where Grief makes moan,
Love claim his own—
And therefore do I watch here all the day,
Eking my life out with the breath she sigheth.”

LIDERARY NOTICES

England in the Nineteenth Century. Lancashire, Northern

Division; part 7. London : How and Parsons.
The present number contains a description of the country,
baronial halls, antiquities, and present condition of the
neighbourhood of Blackburn, Chorley, Preston, Lancaster,
Fleetwood, &c. ; and abounds in interesting descriptions
and excellent wood-cuts of the principal objects worthy of
notice. In the explanatory pages appended is a mass of
highly important statistical information.

The Book of British Ballads, Edited by S. C. Hall, Esq.
Nos, 2 and 3. London : How and Parsons.
The spirited publishers of this magnificently illustrated
collection of our British ballads have adopted, apparently,
the opinion that gems of price should be richly set. To the
noble strains of departed chivalry and romance which, res-
cued from oblivion by the labours of Percy, Ritson, Scott,
Motherwell, and others, were familiar to our youth " as
household words"—strains which alternately stir the heart
"as with a trumpet call"—or steep it in sorrow and " dole"—
we have nothing in our modern literature at all comparable.
They mingle with all our happiest memories ; they are twined
up with all our purest and happiest feelings ; they bring back
fresh and near, those days which we have dreamt away
in the intoxication of romance, and the forms of those, now
scattered through the world's wide waste, who shared with
us the delight with which we wove vision after vision of
" moving accidents by flood and field"; of helmed knights and
veiled ladies,

' Giants enchanters and chimEeras dire ;"
and we hail with pleasure their collection in a casket worthy,
indeed, of pearls so inestimable.
'We have now before us parts 2 and 3 of this splendid pub-
lication, and we know not which most to praise—the judge-
ment and taste displayed by the compiler, Mr. Hall, or the
beauty of the typography and illustrations. To each ballad
is prefixed two pages of explanatory and antiquarian matter,
furnished by Mr. Hall ; and upon each page containing the
ballad itself is a wood-cut illustration, beautifully executed
by the best artists which Great Britain can produce. Some
of these excel infinitely many of the most finished steel en-
gravings, and are admirably designed. The work is printed
entire upon plate paper, and the typography is not excelled
by that of any publication which we have seen.
No. 2 contains the continuation of " The Nut Brown
Maid," " Kempion," " The Child of Elle," "The Twa
Brothers," and a part of " The Blind Beggar ;" and No. 3
the remainder of "The Blind Beggar," "Robin Good-
fellow," " Sir Patrick Spens," " Gil Morice," " Sir Aldin-
Sir Lancelot Du Lake." Amongst the artists
I are—Creswick, Scott, Landells, Vizitelli, Kenny
___dews, E. Corbould, and others of leading talent. Each
ballad is to be illustrated by one artist, in order, we pre-
sume, to insure uniformity of design and execution.
As a matter of course, nothing except a very extensive
sale can remunerate the spirited publishers for the vast out-
lay required in the production of such a work ; and for the
credit of British art, taste, and we may add national feeling,
we trust that their expectations will not be disappointed.

r," and

Ireland; its Scenery, Character, Si-c. By Mr. and Mrs
S. C. Hall. Part 21. London : How and Parsons.

This delightful work progresses beautiful as ever in illus-
tration and description ; and we are ever and anon tempted
to exclaim when perusing it—" Fortunate is the land and
the people whose beauties and character are delineated by an
author and authoress in every way so peculiarly fitted for the
' The illustrations in the present part are equal to
those of any former part ; and that is ample praise. We
give, as a specimen of the work itself, the following beautiful
sketch, illustrative of the popular Irish superstition of the
" Banshee," or Death Fetch :

The only daughter of parents of sufficient distinction, in
the estimation of the people, to have an attendant spirit, was
loved by, and returned the attachment of a youth, her infe-
rior both in birth and fortune. She was one of those quickly
susceptible and gently yielding creatures who, although gifted
with warm affection, have probably not the strength to sus-
tain it

" Through grief and through danger, through sorrow and shame."
"While he was by her side, she felt as though she could have
died sooner than have forgotten him ; so she said and thought ;
and they used to meet stealthily in the moonlight, and before
the lark had poised her dewy wings in the morning sun, and
exchange vows of everlasting constancy ; believing all they
uttered to be the pure and unalterable truth. The girl, at
this time, had not been sixteen years in the world, but the
young man was four-and-twenty. Irishmen have the repu-
tation of being quick at love, and quick at forgetting : it was
not so with him. His nature was firm as it was fervent; he
would have loved her had she been the poorest girl who
watched the sheep upon his native mountain. " I will not
wed you against your father's will," he said, " but I will win
you and wed you. I will go abroad, Mary ; I will gain a
name and come back to you with fame and honour-1 will
do this, by God's great grace ; I will be your faithful hus.
band in the eyes of heaven, whose stars shine brightly on us
now, if you will swear here, kneeling by my side, to wait,
free from all other love, till I return." The girl sank on her
knees and did as he desired; placing her finger against his
finger, she slipped on to his a ring, esteemed by her family
as one of rare virtue, making him in return promise that if
he died or became indifferent to her, or married another, he
should return her the pledge. This he readily agreed to do,
and the lovers parted ; Mary exclaiming in the wild anguish
of her first sorrow, " Surely, surely, it' he had loved me as
I loved him, he would never have proposed this parting.
Well, well, he knew I would have flown with him to the
world's end." And he did know it ; but her weak and
childish nature was unable to appreciate the virtue of the
sacrifice he made by tearing himself from the only thing he
valued on earth : no taint of selfishness sullied the brightness
of his devotion ; he would not submit her to the pangs of
self-reproach for having deserted her aged parents ; he would
give up all, sooner than subject her to the privations which
the bride of a soldier of fortune must have endured. Years
rolled on ; six or
seven passed away, and no tidings arrived
of the absent
had disturbed; as they did pass, the first suspicion that
her mind gained strength,—" If he had loved
me as 1 loved
h
Part-
ing. It might o, he would never have proposed this Part-
t:eshe referred to this feeling as an excuse
for the fickleness of her own heart ; for the arguments and
entreaties of her fsTIY induced her, at len:th, to listen to
the addresses of a wealthy suitor, and, after some reluctance,
to agree to espouse him it is
that this was not but justice to Mary to state,
until a lo
n; after she had waited, and
waited, with the sickness
there heart, for the hoped-
for return of her lover;
were plenty willing and ready
to work upon her doubts of his fidelity
delight to talk of—whis-
clelity and stories came
T 1 , the " foreign parts " the Irish u
that the absent one was untrue to the vows of his

early love.
" And so," said one of the gossiping
old
all
to
another—" And so Mary O'Neil, afther a
marry the hardest man in the counthry !,, ,is going to
" Och sure," was the reply, if b
"•- ..e 'a ha ,
and set one against the other, she 'll be well ort ne, .ts high ;
ago, when
uP-hill side
tiler as young nor as purty as she was seven yea'asne 's
he that that 's over the seas used to meet her on ther-
or by the silent rock, or under the rowan-tree. A ,h, ~
trees and rocks could spake, what a dale they 'd havei" • if
- `-- falsity of man and the folly of women, agra 1 0 tell
" There was no falsity there, unless you count Mary'
-hange falsity," replied the crone ; " but the Lord above
only knows how it 'ill end—the Lord above ! and one other."
" What! " exclaimed the first speaker, in a half-thin whisper;
" you do not mean that—have ye heard any
g, Nell;
dear ? " The two tattered crones drew more closely toge-
ther, and the questioned knocked the ashes out of her pipe

to reply.
" You know the family has a follower, dear—they're of
the rale .ould sort ; and that 's never forgot. The Banshee
that does be afther them is not as strong as she used to belong ever ago, though she 's strong enough to give the death-
warning ; it 's as good as six years since Miss Mary's first
sweetheart met her for the last time, and I was coming up
the glen, the same night, from ould Marky Roone's wake ;
and I came upon them unawares ; and then I kept still. not
to disturb them, for she was crying like a new-born babby
that had lost its mother; but his words without tears would
pierce through stone walls. Well, I saw them put finger to
finger, and slip a ring ; and as they did, and as sure as there's
but one star of the thousands looking on us now, the cry
came through the air soft and sorrowful—not the wail for
present death, but for what would end that way."
" Maybe," suggested her c ompanion "it was for him
" For him ! " repeated the narrator, In a tone of deep in-
dignation. " Why, then, I'm ashamed of your ignorance,
ye poor craythur !is it dottng ye are, woman alive What
right would the like of him have to the cry of a Banshee ?
Graliagh! indeed—for him !"

~, • t‘.l4e4tasy, NT - , there's enough about it ; sure I'm not
LN I rthir ih e as yerself—did ye ever hear it since,
~CIAPer--A. riLikiftbiaiiit .
ib*s this ready acknowledgment of suntiri-
,lll.*lt ther6lltek.g. mysterious sounds declared that the
.47t-: • ' - '
rk