The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1842-10-11 00:00:00

CLERICAL PROMOTIONS

Rev. Benj. Harrison, M.A., late Curate of St. Swithin's,
to the Rectory of All Saints, Worcester, vacant by the re-
signation of the Rev. Erskine Neale.
Rev. John Henry Carnegie, M.A., formerly of Catharine
Hall, Cambridge, to the vicarage of Cranbourne, with the
Chapelries of Farewood and Beveridge annexed, in the Rural
Deanery of Pimperne, and_Arch deaconry 0 Dorset, vacant
F
by the cession of the Rev. H. Pare ; patron, the Marquis
Williamm.A ,o
fATI irgi
no
iotty Kerr,
Col
College,
gteo,
CthaemCbor
irdaicey,
of Salisbury.
Rev. Reginald Bryan, to the Curacy of All Saints, North-
ampton; and
the
R
of St. Paul's Church,
Foster,
ao
nf
Rev.dStf
0. n
nS we pe
juriillyci
ahnlr eF'
Curateso.
Leeds, to the Vi-
carage of Ashby, near Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire.
Rev. Samuel Smith, M.A. late Curate
~ late Curate of Waddington, to
the District Chapel of Barrowford, Lancashire, vacant by the
promotion of the Rev. Matthew • Rev.
R. N. Whitaker. 'Wilson ; patron, the
Rev. W. Bennett, to the CGeorge's, Whitsvick;
the Rev. W. L. Fowke B uracy of St.
, .A. of Queen's Colle, Cambridge,
to the Curacy of Stone b .James Sutherland,.
Y ; and the Rev.
8.A., of Queen's College,sof Fleck-
Cambridge, to the Curacy
ney, all in Leicestershire.
lieu.
Henry Smith Anders, B.A , of Caius College, Cam-
bridge, to the Curacy of Farthing. stone ; the Rev. Joseph
Watson Ayre, B.A ;of St. Peter's College Cambridge, to.
William Gardner,.
the Curacy of Wellingborough ; the Rev-
o f Queen's College, Cambridge, to the Curacy of Rowell,
Manning, 8.A.,
with Orton ; and the Rev. Thomas Henry
of Trinity College, Dublin, to the Curacy of Naseby, all in
Northamptonshire. •
formerlyof Clare Hall, Cambridge,
Rev. C. W. Lamprell,
to the perpetual Curacy of WestWickham,Cambridgeshire :.
patron, the Earl of Har.dwicke.
Ch h d P • L c s
'D'arand to the urc an ans. o, ...n-
Rev. Hugh M i
of Mull and count of
charade, in the presbytery . Y Argyll.
to be Chaplain of Her Majesty.s Settle..
Rev. John Earle,
ments on the Gambia.
Rev, Henry
Howell Griffiths, Perpetual Curate of Llan-
the perpetual Curacy
samlet, Glamorganshire, to y of Llanwi_
nio, Carmarthenskire.
Rev. William Sherwood, to the perpetual Curacy of St.
James, Bradford.
Kev, G. H. Scott, to the Vicarage of Ifieldeco urux, vacant
by she death of the Rev. S. J. Lewin.
Rev. Edward Francis Manley, to the Perpetual Curacy of
Poulton-le-Sand, Lancaster.
Rev. Wm. Yarker, formerly of Caius College, Cambridge,
to the Curacy of Wriham, Cumberland.
Rev. John Cresswell, to the Perpetual
Werneth, Cheshire. Curacy of St. Patirsr
Rev. Henry George Bailey, to the Perpetual C acy of
Charity. , the Trustees of Hyndman's
Rev. James Hargreaves, tor, the 1,
patroness, the Queen.
Rev. William Jackma
bridge, to the Vicarar, n, L L. 8., of Trinity College, Cam-
s e of Falkenham, Suflolk, vacant by
the death of the Rev.cellar. John Edgar; patron, the Lord Chan-

Rev. Thomas Roe, 8.A., Curate of Oare, Somerset, to
Clat Rectory, vacant by the death of the Rev. J. Blackmore.

~ •

Po etrp.

THE HEATHER BELLS 0' SLEVIE TREWE•

TO MY AULD FRIEN' NANNIE LOGAN.

By the Author of " Rathlin."
The flower that decks the mountain dell,
An' blooms amang the simmer dew,
It is the bell, the bonnie bell.
The heather bell o' Slevie Trewe!
On Slevie Trewe the sky was blue,
On Slevie Trewe the grass was green,
And there the lang wild heather grew
Wi' blushing crest o' crimson sheen.
My wee bit house—my hame—was there,
Beside the well, the moorland spring,
Whar light and little was my care,
And I a merry, thoughtless thing!
I ken't but little o' the town—
Its wealth, its misery, an' crimes;
But gambol'd on the heathland brown,
The cantle lad o' ither times.

What J could play, or work at will
Arming my ain auld simmer knowes ;
And. Oh ! I love the heather still,
For Freedom heves whar heather grows !
What though her hills and ha's be rude,
And culture may hae missed the road,
'Mang heather wild, in solitude,
There Freedom hash her blest abode !

An' let me wander as I might,
Since there we prayed and parted last,
Her holy fire an' shining light
Were sunk an' set, or waning fast.
I needna' say how much I fret,
I needna' say how sair I pine ;
But mem'ry canna weel forget
The frien's an' flowers we lo'ed langsyne.

An' far an' wide my feet have ranged,
By stormy waste, an watery flood ;
The wand is changed, and I am changed,
But has it been for ony good?
An' when, at night, in sleep I sink,
About the braes will fancy bide ;
An' waking, then, I weep an' think
0' Naunie Logan's ain fireside.

I needna wail, there's nane to feel;
I needna speak, there's nane to speer ;
Sometimes they talk o' hearts o' steel—
Gude kens, there's plenty o' them here.
An' cunning men have wranged me sair
In wicked word and evil will,
They couldna' scaith me ony mair,
An' yet I maim na' wish them ill.

But faitbfu' memory lingers on,
Amang the heather bells sae braw,
What.' care was cow'd, an' life was fun,
E'er yet the fause, fause warld I saw.
An' when I dream o' pleasures gane,
The tear comes down my wither'd cheek :
I become a second wean,
Ad' what I feel I canna spec'.:.
When to the sea the sun had ane,
I won'ered at the far red West,
On bonnie Slevie Trewe alane,
While sitting by the laverock's nest ;
Or wended owre the moor at e'en,
To Nanny, a' my tales to tell,
An' wish'd that Nanny was a queen,
For I was rich enough mysel'.
An' art thou hale and lieven' yet,
My guid auld frien', in ither days?
Cauld wather, an' queer folk I've met,
Since last I left our heather braes.
I think on a' that ye hae said,
A kinder heart I never knew ;
An' 0 ! I wish that I had made
My hame for aye by Slevie Trewe.

For weel they ken'd, and lo'ed me there,
Whar Freedom lieved, an' heather grew,
Ere wicked men, an' withering care
Had chilled an' made me what I'm noo.
Yet what I was, or what I am,
It boots but little now to say—
The peacefnl scene and holy calm
Are fled for ever. and away.
Belfast News-letter.

LITERARY NOTICES.

Dublin University Magazine, for October. Dublin : Wm.
Curry, jun., and Co. London : W. S. Orr and Co.
The contents of the Dublin for the present month are
more than ordinarily excellent ; and that is saying much.
Of Harry Lorrequer's " Our Mess" we have spoken al-
ready. We have, in addition, several very able articles,
amongst which we may number those entitled " Belgium "
" Irish Character, by an Anglo-Hibernian"—and the re-
view of Madden's " Lives of Illustrious Irishmen." The
" Narrative of the Affghan War" is continued, and increases
in interest.

SIMILARITY OF CHARACTER
BETWEEN THE TWO NOBLE BROTHERS, THE LATE MAR-

QUIS WELLESLEY AND THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

We are right glad that in recording the character of the
late Marquis Wellesley in our last Journal, we took occasion,
as it was impossible not to do, to allude to that of the elder
of the surviving brothers, the Duke of Wellington—whose
life may Providence long preserve. We were right also in
alluding to the similarity of their characters ; the announce-
ment of our intention to draw a parallel between them hav-
ing been the cause of our receiving some hints thereon from
two of our correspondents. The first directs our attention
to a postscript to Blackwood's Magazine for June, DM,
wherein the character of the Duke is faithfully drawn, par-
ticularly in some traits in which it bears so remarkable a re-
semblance to that of the Marquis; and when we add, upon
the authority of our respected and frequent correspondent,
that the reputation of the writer in Blackwood stands so high
in the literary veorld as to rank him as one of the best and
most eloquent historians of the day, it would be indeed in
very bad taste not to prefer an extract from this postscript,
which is so pertineut to our object, to any description of our
own. Whether our correspondent alludes to Napier or to
Alison, we know not ; they are both reputed contributors to
Blackwood ; at any rate their names will descend to posterity
as two of the most popular historians of their age.
Our other correspondent has sent us a psrallel between the
Carthaginian General Hannibal and the Duke of Wellington,
equally applicable to the character of his Grace, except in the
vices which stained that of the former. To this communica-
tion also we gladly give insertion.
The article in our last journal could not have been perused
by any one acquainted with Indian affairs during the last
sixty years, and with those of the Peninsular war in Spain,
without being convinced how congenial were the feelings and
objects which the two noble brothers always had in view ;
both urging upon the Home Ministers for the time being, as
is verified by the despatches of each, now recently made
public, the same line of action, the same bold and enlightened
and comprehensive measures ; both complaining of the
narrow and contracted views of the ministry at home, by
which they were enervating the sinews of war, paralyzing the
efforts of our armies (particularly in Spain), and thereby pro-
tracting, to an almost indefinite period, the decisive and
glorious conclusion of two of the most sanguinary wars which
it lay within the grasp and power of " the Duke" to bring
to a successful close. The only difference, indeed, is, that
what the two brothers agreed upon and devised in the closet,
the Duke alone carried out and accomplished in the field.
In regard to another parallel in their characters and con-
duct, they ~appear to have each trod in the same steps in
their government in Ireland, and in the emancipation of the
Roman Catholics; having both advocated, voted for, and
eventually witnessed the carrying of this latter measure.
But we are forgetting the writer in Blackwood ; who had
in the early part of the article which has been pointed out to
us, been congratulating himself upon the similarity of his
own and the Duke of Wellington's views upon the China
war and the opium question :
'• And here (the writer says) we cannot help saying a word
or two of one of the few men in any period who has lived to
see his own consecration in human affections, and has bad a
foretaste of his own immortality on earth. Let us briefly
notice the Duke of Wellington's present position amongst
us ; which is remarkable, and al,nost unique. Until within
these few years this great man had been adequately appre-
ciated according to the means which the nation then pos-
sessed for forming a judgment of his merits. We measured
him, that is to say, by his acts. Europe had seen him as a
soldier; had seen him as an ambassador—no ceremonial am-
bassador, but in a general congress of nations still rocking
with the agitations of convulsions without a parallel, as a me-
diatorial ambassador for adjudicating the rights of the world ;
finally, Europe had seen him as a prime minister of England. In
the first character, as the leader of the faithful armies' which,
under whatever name, did in reality sustain the interests of
human nature and the cause of civilization upon earth, it
would be idle to speak of him. In the two last characters,
it was the general feeling of England, that the Duke of Wel-
lington had exemplified ' the majesty of plain dealing' upon
a scale never before witnessed, and in functions to which
such a spirit of dealing was hardly supposed applicable.
Thus far we all did him right, but we also did him a great
wrong; and it was inevitable that we should do so. It was
a wrong which he bore cheerfully, and with the submission
which he felt to be one of his duties as a public servant in a
free country. But it must have been bitter and trying to his
secret sense of justice, seeing that subsequent revelations
have exposed
a compose of
to view a peculiar and preternatural strength,
power absolutely without precedent, in that
very organ
ascribed anofai
of his character to which our popular error
elementary weakness. Nobody can look back,
for a space
a general notion prevailing eight years, but he must remember, as
—as a taunt ofitZTalli°g against the Duke of Wellington,
ponents, often aileittrged against us by our political op-
from habits of 104 Yueeoceded by ourselves,—that, either
ment he was tn Sage, or from original vice of tem-
pera , 0
rigid
poli-
tical opinions ;in itis, and untractable iu his poli-
Zleanour too peremptory, too
uncivic ; that, with the
oftsalivirtues of the military cha-
racter, he combined some
worst disqualifications for
political life ; that his notions Leaded
od.edeto impress too martial a
character of discipline upon the'4n_
,service ; that even his
virtues of a civic order Were tr4ri
bang but another directness and plain-dealing • Yed with this spirit—his
meritsplace
r aspect of that
peremptory spirit which finds its propos
as to the substantial
pereropoi in a
national camp
and that, finally,
wants or grievances,
apart from the modee
and
modes ofxmanner of his
administration, not less by temper than
by
•
ing
perience, the Duke was incapacitated for estimating ex
spirit of his age, and stood aloof from all Popular sy
•
tides. Thus stood public opinion, when a memorable
act 'of
retribution was rendered to the Duke's merits, and a monu-
ment raised to his reputation, such as will co-exist with our
language, in the series of his Despatchn, &c., published by
Colonel Gurwood. The effect was profound. The Duke of
Wellington had long been raised as far beyond the benefits,
as he is beyond the need, of any trivial enthusiasm derived
from momentary sources or vulgar arts : and this book was
fitted to engage the attention of none but the highly culti-
vated. The reverence of the lar.d for the Duke's character,
the gratitude of the land far the Duke's services, scarcely
seemed open to increase. But undoubtedly a depth of tone
and a solemnity approaching to awe, were impressed
henceforth upon the feeling&4 with which all thoughtful
men regarded the Duke of Wellington as an intellectual
being. Now, first, it was understood what quality of
:Intellect had been engaged in our service, moving amongst
what multiplied embarrassments, thwarted by what conflicts
even in friendly quarters, winning its way by what flexibility
of address, watching all obstacles by what large compass of
talents, and compensating every disadvantage for the public
service by what willing sacrifices of selfish feeling. Were it
not for the singleness of purpose, for the perfect integrity,
for the absolute self-dedication, and the sublime simplicity,
we would sav—Here is a Machiavelian subtlety of under-
standing ! With ao apostolical grandeur of purpose, there
is here combined the address of a finished intriguer; and for
a service of nations upon the grandest scale, we see displayed
a restless and a versatile spirit of submission to.circumstances
and to characters, which, accorcling.to ail the exP epf
this world, belongs naturally to &lodes of selfish them tn.')st
intense. The wisdom of. lons-suffering ; the policies of al-
lowance in matters of practice; the spirit of indulgence to