mill. It is about nine feet in diameter, and three feet in thickness;

and cannot weigh less than fourteen tons, as it contains about 189 cubic feet of marble. The removal of this huge stone, with the very slender means by which it was accomplished, is a striking instance of what labour can effect, by unremitted perseverance.

In the winter which followed the last inundation, his wife observed steam constantly rising from the opposite bank of the river, and, on going to the spot, she found a considerable spring of hot water, which being examined, and found to be mineral, baths were established there. Mr. Bakewell adds, that being desirous that this industrious miller should derive some advantage from his wife’s discovery, he recommended his keeping mules to let out to the bathers, and cows to supply them with milk, during the season. With these suggestions he was much pleased, and should he adopt them, it will be equally advantageous to visiters at the baths as to himself, as there was neither horse nor mule to be hired in the place; and in the summer months, as all the cattle are pastured in the mountains, milk can be procured only once or twice a-week.

_Oct. 1st._--I have just read such a pretty description of the humming-bird, that I must copy it for Marianne: it is from Buffon, who calls this bird _l’Oiseau Mouche_. “Of all animated beings,” he says, “it is the most elegant in form, and the most brilliant in colours--our precious stones cannot be compared in lustre to this jewel of Nature, who has bestowed on it all the gifts which she has only shared amongst other birds. Lightness, swiftness, grace, and the most splendid clothing, all belong to this little favourite.

“The emerald, the ruby, and the topaz, sparkle in its plumage, which it never defiles with the dust of the earth; and scarcely even deigns to touch the green turf for a moment. It is always on the wing, fluttering from flower to flower, and possesses their freshness as well as their brilliancy--it lives on their nectar, and only inhabits those climates where flowers never cease to bloom.

“It is in the warmest regions of the New World, that all the species known of these birds are found; for those which advance in summer to the temperate zones, only remain there a short time. They seem to follow the sun, to advance and retire with him; and to fly on the wings of Zephyr in the train of an eternal spring.”

I thought we had in Brazil the smallest humming-birds that were known; but I have read in Mr. Bullock’s very entertaining book, that he procured one in Jamaica, that was less than even some species of the bee. It had taken its station on a large tamarind tree, which was close to the house, and overspread part of the yard; there it spent most of the day, and kept absolute possession of its dominions; for, the moment any other bird, though ten times larger than itself, approached the tree, it furiously attacked and drove off the intruder; always returning to the same twig, which it had worn quite bare, by continually perching on the same spot.

Mr. Bullock observed these birds feeding on insects,--which contradicts the general idea that they live only on the honey of flowers.--When he was in Mexico, one of them took possession of a pomegranate-tree, and sat on it the whole day catching the flies that came into the flowers; and on dissection he has found other insects in their stomach. Though naturally petulant, and very tenacious of intrusion, they seldom quarrel in captivity; for example, when a great blue-throated humming-bird occupied the perch, he has seen the diminutive Mexican star settle on its beak, and quietly remain there for some instants, without the insult having been resented. In the air, indeed, they fight desperately till one falls, and Mr. Bullock witnessed a battle in heavy rain, every drop of which he thought would have been sufficient to beat the little combatants to the ground.

They are still worn by the Mexican ladies as ornaments for the ears; and their name in the Indian language signifies “Beams, or locks of the sun.”--But he says, what is very true, indeed, that the stuffed humming-birds can give but little idea of their real brilliancy; for the sides of the fibres of each feather being of a different colour from the surface, the least motion of the bird continually changes the hue. For example, the topaz-throated humming-bird of Nootka Sound is ever varying from a vivid fire colour to the bright green of the emerald.

They are very cunning little things; the house in which Mr. B. lived was of one story, inclosing a garden round which it was built. The spiders had spread their numerous webs from the tiles of the projecting roof, to the trees in the garden, so closely, that they resembled a net. The humming-birds endeavoured to seize on the entangled flies; but, afraid of entangling their own wings, and perhaps a little alarmed by those great spiders, they would fly rapidly round and round, as if to reconnoitre the best avenue; then darting in, they picked out the smallest fly, and escaped without touching a single thread.

I was surprised to find that some of these birds were found as far north as Nootka Sound; and I asked my aunt if she thought there was any mistake in the name of the place. She said, that though the winters are very severe in that part of America, the summer is extremely hot; and she added that an intimate friend in Upper Canada, with whom she corresponds, mentions the humming-birds as being constant visiters in summer. I had not before heard that she had a correspondent there. How interesting, said I, her letters must be from those frozen regions, where everything is so different from the part of America in which I have lived!

“You shall see her letters with pleasure,” replied my aunt; “and I hope at some future time you will know the amiable and excellent writer herself.”

_2nd._ _Sunday._--In speaking to-day of reading the Bible, my uncle regretted that indolence so often prevents people, when they find difficulties, or apparent contradictions, from taking a little trouble to try if they could not be reconciled. “How often,” said he, “by a small degree of attention, might we perceive that the seeming disagreement arises from some oversight of our own, and that it might be made quite clear by a little reflection.

“For instance, in 1st Kings, vii. 26, it is stated that the molten sea contained _two_ thousand baths;--while in 2nd Chronicles, iv. 5, we are told that it received and held _three_ thousand baths. Now the case is this: the writer of the book of Chronicles states that ten lavers of brass were made, which joined the molten sea. ‘Five on the right hand, and five on the left, to wash in them; such things as they offered for the burnt-offering they washed in them; but the sea was for the priest to wash in.’

“Hence it appears that the molten sea, with its appendages the lavers, were altogether for the washings; but each part was appropriated to distinct purposes--the lavers for the washing of burnt-offerings, and the sea for the washing of the priests; as it would not have been proper for the priests to have washed in the same water in which the burnt-offerings were washed. The lavers are not noticed in the book of Kings, in which the contents only of the sea are alluded to--but in Chronicles you perceive they are both mentioned. The lavers received one thousand baths, exactly the difference which makes these accounts appear contradictory--but which is completely explained by observing that a part only of the sea is alluded to by one writer, while the other describes the whole of it.”

My uncle mentioned some other passages in the Old Testament, which are misunderstood, in consequence of some slight inaccuracy in the English construction. I think I can give one of them nearly in his words.--“In 2nd Chronicles, chap. ii., an astonishing number of men are said to have been employed in building the Temple--a number that at first sight appears incredible, supposing them employed on the Temple only. But we are told by the learned that the original does not signify that they were all employed on what, properly speaking, was called the Temple, or inner-house, where the cherubim were kept. The expression applies equally to the outer division before the veil, which was called the _greater house_; and we are therefore to consider that all the buildings attached to the Temple are included in this account of the employment of the workmen. Now the buildings around the whole area where the temple stood were intended not only for the residence of the priests and Levites, but were also adapted to contain their portion, or tenth, of the produce of the land; and certainly, for these purposes, the out-buildings must have been very capacious. And besides, we must recollect that great numbers of men were necessarily occupied in quarrying stones for buildings of such extent, as well as in preparing the materials for fitting up the interior.”

When my uncle had finished this satisfactory explanation, Mary said that she had lately been comparing the history in the books of Kings and Chronicles, and that she had met with a little difficulty. In 1st Kings, ix. 23, we are told that the number of chief officers over Solomon’s work was five hundred and fifty.--But in 2nd Chronicles, viii. 10, they are said to be two hundred and fifty.--“Now, papa,” said Mary, “I know you can clear up this difficulty.”

“The accounts do seem contradictory,” said my uncle, “yet both are correct. You see in 1st Kings, v. 13, that Solomon levied out of all Israel thirty thousand men. This army was divided into tens, and every tenth man was an officer. These three thousand officers, if divided by twelve, (the number of the tribes,) will give two hundred and fifty chief officers, according to Chronicles. But we had been already told (chap. ii. 18) that Solomon employed one hundred and fifty thousand workmen, and that over them he appointed three thousand six hundred overseers. These overseers were regulated in the same manner as the officers of the army; and, therefore, if three thousand six hundred be divided by twelve, it will give you three hundred chief officers; which added to the two hundred and fifty, selected from the guards, makes five hundred and fifty officers that bare rule over the people, according to your quotation from the first book of Kings.”

_3d._--I had a nice walk with my uncle to-day, to Farmer Moreland’s, with whom he had some business. As we passed through the field in which there had been meadow this year, my uncle made me observe what a fine growth had sprung up since it was mowed; the after-grass he called it. I asked, did he not consider the grasses as amongst some of the most useful plants?

He said, “The tribe of grasses yield more sustenance to man, and to the larger animals, than all the rest of the vegetable kingdom put together. Their herbage is perpetually springing, and it is adapted to almost every soil, climate, and situation. The grasses are a very extensive tribe, and yet throughout the whole of it, nothing poisonous or injurious is found, except, perhaps, the stupefying quality attributed to the seeds of the _lolium_, or rye-grass. The farinaceous produce of wheat, rye, barley, rice, maize, and many others, supplies mankind with the most general and wholesome nutriment.”

As we walked along, I shewed him quantities of wild ranunculus mixed with the grass, and I asked, was there no way of preventing the growth of all those weeds. He answered, that a certain proportion of what we vulgarly called weeds, are now considered useful in making the grass more palateable to cattle, and even more wholesome--“Just in the same manner,” said he, “as men could scarcely live on flour alone, so cattle cannot be well supported by mere grass, without the addition of various plants, in themselves too acrid, bitter, or narcotic, to be eaten unmixed. Salt, spices, and a portion of animal food, supply us with the requisite stimulus or additional nutriment; and, in the same manner, the ranunculus tribe, and many other plants, season the pasturage of cattle.”

My uncle afterwards told me, that some of the grasses run chiefly to stalks, the leaves decaying as the seed advances towards perfection: such as rye-grass, dog’s-tail grass, and fine bent; while others, whose leaves continue to grow after the seed is formed, retain their verdure and juices during the whole season, as in the _poa_ and fescue tribes, whose leaves are green and fresh, when the seeds are ripe. Ignorant farmers do not attend to this, and often, in mistake, sow those very grasses that run all to stalk and seed. Besides the numerous families of real grasses, there is also a great variety of plants cultivated by farmers, to supply their places, and are, therefore, called the _artificial grasses_.

“In some cases they are of more rapid growth than a crop of grass--in others, the change is of use to the soil. Sainfoin, for instance, of which you see so much in Gloucestershire, is found to be particularly adapted to a soil exhausted by repeated corn crops, because its root enters deeply into the ground, while the fibrous roots of corn spread close to the surface. Lucern, clover, vetches, and other succulent and quickly growing plants of this nature, are also called artificial grasses--and are thus of great advantage to the farmer, by supplying his cattle with excellent food, and at the same time by alternately giving rest to different portions of his ground.”

_4th._--Some visiters have just arrived; they are to spend a week here, and I am sure we shall not go on half so pleasantly, for these people will interrupt all our employments, and will, I suppose, be very formal. I said so to my aunt this morning, and I was surprised to find that she was not of that opinion; I thought she would particularly dislike having the regular, happy life here deranged.

I have been very busy in my garden this morning. With some help I have completed the little flower beds, which I intend to be so pretty next spring--they are intermixed with grass-plots, and are made up of good, fresh earth, properly prepared for the plants they are to contain. Mary, who seems to have a great deal of knowledge, has assisted me--for I find that much of the art of gardening consists in suiting the soil to the nature of the plants. In my jonquil bed, she advised me to put abundance of sand, and no manure. This has been done; and this fine mild dry day, I planted it with the bulbs as she directed me. I have a narcissus bed, too, and this has been made up with what the gardener calls hazel loam, and a small portion of manure. These two beds, along with one for hyacinths, that I described before, and one for carnations, make up what I call my regular flower-beds, on the upper part of the sloping bank. Besides these, I have two beds at one side, one for roses of different kinds, and one for white lilies. These last have, I am told, very magnificent flowers, and in order to have them very fine, a great deal of fresh manure has been dug in to nearly two feet in depth.

Some days ago, I planted a number of rose-trees, contributions from all my kind friends. I have also made little edgings to all my beds; and I am now, like a mere child, already longing for the time when I shall see them covered with blossoms. But I have not nearly done yet all that I intend; for I heard a gentleman, who comes sometimes to see my uncle, Mr. Biggs, telling him of such a variety of nice plants, and the modes of managing them, that I am determined to try some of the things which he mentioned. I must first consult my uncle, because I have great plans in view; but I am afraid all these strangers will prevent him from having time to listen to me.

I find that this is a busy season in the garden, though the decline of the year, and that several plants, and almost all deciduous trees and shrubs, should be transplanted now. I have quite got into the spirit of gardening, I think; it is indeed a delightful occupation to the mind, as well as the body. There is not only much to think of, and to remember to do at the right time, but also to know why it should be done.

_Tuesday night._--Though I am tired after all my hard work to-day, I must tell you, Mamma, before I go to bed, that I see how foolish it is to judge of people in a hurry, or to think strangers must be tiresome, because they interrupt our usual habits. The strangers who arrived to-day appear to be very pleasing; Mr. Lumley, who has travelled a great deal, has many entertaining things to tell; and his daughters, and their mother also, are very nice people. They brought some pretty kinds of work with them, and I was glad to find that we might employ ourselves, instead of sitting up stifly and formally.

_5th._--I mentioned last night, that the Lumleys seemed to be a very agreeable family; yet, when I woke this morning, I felt that some of my apprehensions were returning. Night, however, has come round again, and I must tell you, dear Mamma, that we have passed the day most pleasantly; partly in our usual occupations, for I found that my cousins never neglect those which are most important, for any guests whatever; and partly in walking and in gardening.

The Miss Lumleys pleased me very much, by appearing interested in the progress of my garden, and they even helped me to transplant several of my flowers. Then came my uncle and Mr. Lumley; they examined every part of my garden, and asked me several questions. My uncle inquired about the new scheme of which I had been talking, and said he would assist me as much as possible. I shewed him the old quarry, and boldly described all that I intended to do--frequently referring to hints I had picked up from his conversations with Mr. Biggs. My uncle said he was rejoiced to find that I could attend so well to general conversation, and gave me the quarry to reward me. When I had finished what I had to do in my garden, he and Mr. Lumley took Frederick and me to walk with them, and I heard numbers of entertaining things,--much more than I can now put in my journal.

We left the forest, and passing through the open fields which lie between it and the Severn, we walked for some time close by the edge of the river. I saw a beautiful bird sitting on a projecting stone, and we all stopped to observe it; sometimes fluttering its wings, and exposing its brilliant blue, green, and red plumage to the sun. It then took wing, and hovered in the air for some time, watching for the moment to dart on its victim. At last we saw it make a spring of twelve or fifteen feet upwards, and then drop perpendicularly into the water, where it remained several seconds. It was a kingfisher, which Mr. Lumley told me is a very common bird on the continent. He says it is shy and solitary, frequenting banks of rivers, where it will sit still for hours, as we saw it. It usually takes possession of a hole in the bank, which had previously been made by a martin, or a mole, and which it enlarges a little for its own purpose. The hole has generally an ascending direction, and penetrates two or three feet into the bank; at the end it is scooped into a hollow, where quantities of small fishes’ bones are often found. Mr. L. has seen these nests frequently; and he told me that as the old birds appear to have nothing in their bills when they feed their young, it is thought that they discharge from their stomach the requisite nourishment.

There are several species, but this one is the _halcyon_ of the ancients, which poets imagined had a floating nest endowed with power to calm the winds and seas. Some of the gravest of the ancient writers relate, that it sat only a few days, just in the depth of winter, and that during that period the mariner might sail in full security--whence the expression, “_halcyon days_.”

Mr. Lumley has studied the habits even of the despised house-sparrow, which however, he does not at all despise; for he says that it is a most useful creature, destroying various kinds of grubs that would be most injurious to our crops. Though it generally builds in holes and gutters, and under the eaves of houses, yet it sometimes builds in the top of a tree; and then its nest, which is carelessly formed, because in a place where it is protected, is made as large as a man’s head, with a cover to keep off the rain. It is composed chiefly of hay and straw, but warmly lined with feathers, and fragments of thread or worsted, bits of cloth, or any material that can be picked up about a house; and should their nest be destroyed, they will build up another in twenty-four hours.

In some parts of France, Mr. Lumley saw earthen pots hung out of houses, for the sparrows to breed in, for the purpose of having a supply of young sparrows for the table; and it is said that the kings of Persia have them trained to hunt the butterfly.

_6th._--My uncle and Mr. Lumley have been conversing to-day about the trees and woods of Europe. I had been saying so much to my cousins lately about the forests of tropical countries, that it was delightful to hear them continue the subject; and finding that I listened, they tried to make me comprehend all they said.

They remarked that each region of Europe may be distinguished, in some degree, by the different character of its forests; the pine and birch being invariably found in the cold northern countries; the lime, beech, ash, oak, chesnut, and walnut in the temperate regions; and, approaching the warmer climates, the cork tree and the olive.

The most useful of the tree families are bountifully extended, said my uncle, from nearly the frigid to the torrid zone; and if we do not possess the rich variety of the tropical regions, the palms, the teak, the mahogany, the banyan, and the baobab, yet are we, on the other hand, provided with some tribes that cannot be surpassed in usefulness or in beauty. And it is worthy of remark, he added, that some one species of the oak and of the pine, those two most useful trees, are to be found in every climate of the earth, excepting in the immediate polar regions. The woods of northern Russia, of Norway, and Sweden, consist, with little variation, of the pine tribe. The Scotch fir retains its dense foliage during the long winter, and affords shelter to the wild animals of the forest; and the greater the intensity of cold, the firmer and more dense the timber becomes in texture. This tree supplies the peasantry with their cottages, their boats, and their fuel. Tar, rosin, and turpentine, are extracted from it by very rude methods of distillation, and its ashes produce potash. On the mountainous ranges of the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Apennines, it grows luxuriantly at that elevation where the temperature is similar to that of the northern regions. In the mountains of Thibet, which are now considered the highest in the world, six different species of pine flourish; and even at the elevation of 12,000 feet, forests of pine are found mixed with birch and rhododendron.

In Finland, and in the neighbourhood of Petersburg, the birch, which comes next to the pine in quantity, is inclined to grow by itself; but it abounds in the natural woods of Great Britain and of other parts of Europe. In the central parts of our continent, elm, maple, and ash are common, and grow to a noble size; but their extent is small in proportion to the northern forests of birch and pine, and they seem to prefer an open situation. In the sheltered parts of Savoy and Switzerland the walnut is a very profitable as well as ornamental tree; and the olive flourishes on the sloping sides of the hills, particularly in Italy. In low and warm situations there, the cypress and poplar grow to a great size--above them comes the chesnut, and still higher, approaching the pines, appears the magnificent oak. The grey foliage of the olive gives a peculiar appearance to the country; and the cork-tree, also, Mr. Lumley says, excites the admiration of all travellers. Spain, Portugal, and the South of France are the countries in which this beautiful tree is most prominent;--it grows higher than the oak, of which it is a species, and has more slender branches and smaller leaves. The chief distinction is the spongy bark, which the tree throws off naturally; and it is said that the growth of the tree is improved by peeling it.

Besides the common and well known uses of the bark, he told us that it is employed in Portugal for beehives, for covering stables, and for many domestic purposes. Near Cintra he saw a convent built between two perpendicular rocks which actually formed the outer walls; and the monks, by neatly lining them with large flat pieces of cork, had effectually excluded all dampness. The timber is employed for the same purposes as oak; the acorns fatten immense droves of hogs; and the acorn-cups of this useful tree is one of the principal ingredients in tanning the Portuguese goat-skins.

Cork trees are found in great perfection in the South of France. From Bayonne, where the low sandy heaths called _les Landes_ commence, and extend as far as Bordeaux, the woods consist almost entirely of that tree, and of the _pinus maritima_, which is scarcely less useful. The wood is excellent, and yields an extraordinary proportion of turpentine resin, and tar; the fruit contains a kernel which has a pleasant flavour of the almond, and is often used in cookery; and from the root is obtained a brown dye which the fishermen use to preserve their nets. They are, however, in many parts of that tract of country prohibited from touching the roots, because their long matted fibres, by running along the surface, fix the loose sand and prevent its blowing away.

Mr. Lumley spoke with admiration of the woods of Old Castile, particularly of the fine evergreen oaks and the bushy laurel-leaved cistus neither of which he has seen anywhere else in such beauty. The acorns of the former, when roasted, form a large part of the food of the poor peasantry.

_7th._--Mr. Lumley and my uncle have been studying Dr. Richardson’s remarks on the climate of the Hudson’s Bay countries, and I have noted for you all I could understand.

In the neighbourhood of Fort Enterprise, lat. 64° N. the white spruce advances nearer the northern limit than any other pine. The largest of those trees were between eight and nine feet in circumference. The elm, ash, sugar-maple, and arbor-vitæ extend to nearly the same latitude.

Oak and beech terminate about lat. 50°. The balsam poplar sends straggling trees as far north as lat. 63°, and the aspen grows in pretty large clumps a degree farther north, beyond which it was not seen. The balsam poplar forms a large proportion of the drift timber observed on the shores of the Arctic Sea, and is supposed to come principally from MᶜKenzie river.

Fort Enterprise was supposed to be elevated about 800 feet above the Arctic Sea, and the banks of the river on which it was built are ornamented with groves of the white spruce tree. On each side of the river, an irregular marshy plain extends to ranges of unconnected hills, at the base of which there is commonly a thin stratum of mountain peat. The bottom of the valleys is generally occupied by lakes of a considerable depth, which are entirely land-locked, and communicate with each other only when flooded by the melting snow. The sides of the hills, and all the drier spots of the valley, are clothed with a beautiful carpet of the lichens, which form the favourite food of the reindeer; and some shrubs, such as the great bilberry, the marsh ledum, some of the willow tribe, and different species of andromeda, arbutus, and the kalmia glauca, frequently enliven the scene.

In sheltered situations, where the peat is deeper than usual, a few starved larch and black spruce are scattered. There are also thin clumps of the paper birch on the borders of the rapids, as well as of the white spruce, which thrives better there than any other tree; but all are of slow and stunted growth. Of the spruce cut down at Fort Enterprise, the increase seemed to have been in general at the rate of four rings, or years, to one inch; and though the house which the travellers built there was only 24 feet wide; it was with difficulty they obtained half a dozen beams of sufficient length, the trees tapered so much.

It appears by Dr. Richardson’s tables, that up to the 20th of June, 1821, there was no appearance of vegetation among the flower-bearing plants, except the gradual opening of the willow catkins. Early in June, the first, or female band of reindeer passed to the northward of lat. 65°; their progress seemed to be regulated by the uncovering of the lichens. When the thaw is much farther advanced, the lichens become too tender and pulpy, and the deer resort to the swamps to feed upon the grass, or rather hay, which having been frozen up in the preceding autumn, retains its sap and nutritive qualities, when the snow melts from around it in spring. In a few days, however, the stalks become dry, and the seeds are shed; but the deer by that time have reached the sea-coast, where other plants supply them with food, which, however, are not so fattening as the lichens.

On Midsummer-day the dwarf birch opened its buds; a fortnight afterwards the ice on the larger lakes broke up, and several plants flowered. But on the 5th of September a storm set in, which clothed all the country with snow for the winter; and in the beginning of October the party again walked over the lakes which they had crossed on the ice in the middle of June; an interval of only 116 days.

The sap of the trees and shrubs freezes there in winter; and the wood becomes so hard that the chips produced by an axe flew off more like splinters of stone than of wood.

In all those dreary districts there are no traces of the influence of man over the appearance of the vegetable kingdom. Cultivation is entirely confined to a few small gardens at the fur-posts; and the only mode in which the arts and customs of the natives affect the vegetable kingdom, is by their setting fire to the forests. These fires spread rapidly in summer, and are only extinguished by heavy rains. Years elapse before anything grows in the places thus laid waste. The branchless trunks of the burnt trees are in a season or two stripped of their bark and bleached, if not sooner thrown down by the wind. The surface of the ground in time acquires a little verdure from a few mosses and lichens; other vegetables take root; and, at last, the place where a pine forest had been, is occupied by dense thickets of slender aspens. The growth of this tree,--instead of a renewal of the pine forest, which might have been expected,--is a curious circumstance, and can be attributed only to its winged seeds favouring their dispersion.

I hope what I have written will amuse you, as in your last letter you wished to hear something of the discoveries made by Captain Franklin’s party.

_8th._--I have much to tell you, dear Mamma, of all that we have seen and done this day; some of it quite out of our usual course, for we went to see a magnificent place, about nine miles from hence, belonging to Lord S----. My uncle, Mr. Lumley, and my cousins, rode, except Frederick, who came in the carriage with the ladies. The grounds and woods are extensive; but the gardens, stove, and conservatory, are remarkably fine, and were our chief object. Few private gardens have such a collection of the palm tribe, and of South American plants. I saw many of my old Brazilian friends; and moreover many plants and trees from Brazil, and the neighbouring countries, of which I was quite ignorant.

The house where the palms are kept was built on purpose for them, of an uncommon height; and Lord S---- has endeavoured to arrange the numerous specimens, as well as he could, according to Humboldt’s division of the tribe: the first, those which grow in dry places or inland plains, such as the fan-palm; secondly, those on the sea coast, as the cocoa-nut, &c.; next, the palms which flourish at the elevation of 1400 to 3000 yards above the sea, and which were unknown till Humboldt’s visit to the Andes; and, fourthly, those of fresh-water marshes, as the Mauritia palm. This is the sago-tree of South America; it extends along the swamps as far inland as the sources of the Oroonoko, and supplies the inhabitants with flour. In the season of the inundations, these clumps of mauritia appear as if rising from the bosom of the waters. They serve as habitations for a tribe of wretched Indians; and as they grow in great abundance in the low grounds of the Delta, at the mouth of the Oroonoko, strangers sailing up the river at night are astonished at seeing the tops of the trees illuminated by large fires. The poor natives suspend strong mats between the trunks of the trees, and fill them with moist clay, on which they kindle the fire necessary for their household wants. These people have preserved their independence, and probably owe it to the quaking and swampy soil which they alone know how to pass over, to their dwellings in the trees.

This mauritia palm is called the Tree of Life by the missionaries; for it not only affords the Indian a safe dwelling, but supplies him with food and wine, and cordage. Its fruit and farinaceous pith supply food--its saccharine juice ferments into wine, and the fibres of the leaf-stalks furnish thread fit for weaving hammocks, or twisting into ropes. How very singular, Mamma, to see a whole nation of human creatures depending on one single species of palm-tree for their existence!

We had much conversation about the various species of palms which we saw; and particularly the real sago-tree, which grows in the East, and which exceeds all other plants in the quantity of nutriment it affords to mankind. My uncle told me that a single tree, in its fifteenth year, sometimes yields six hundred pounds weight of sago or meal; for the word sago signifies meal, in the dialect of Amboyna. Mr. Lumley said that, as these trees grow about ten feet asunder, an English acre could contain four hundred and thirty-five of them; and, supposing their average produce to be only one third of what my uncle mentioned, it would amount to eight thousand seven hundred pounds yearly of meal, from each acre. This, he said, was three times as much as would be considered a good crop of corn in this country. Sago is collected from five different palms, but not in the same abundance as from the real sago-tree.

We then examined some fine specimens of the date-tree, so famous in all our Eastern tales, and so delightful to all travellers. Mr. Lumley has often seen it near Lisbon, where it grows well; but the fruit never ripens perfectly in Europe. It is found in great abundance in Africa, and particularly on the borders of the vast desert of Sahara, where the parched sandy soil is so unfit for the production of corn. But the date-tree supplies the deficiency, and furnishes the inhabitants with almost the whole of their subsistence. Forests of this most useful palm may be seen there, of several leagues in circumference: their extent, however, depends on the quantity of water that can be procured, as they require constant moisture. The Arabs say these trees are very long lived; and there is scarcely any part of them which they do not make useful. The wood, though of a spongy texture, lasts such a number of years, that they say it is incorruptible; most of their instruments of husbandry are made of it; and though it burns slowly, it gives out great heat. The Arabs strip the bark and fibrous parts from the young trees, and eat the substance in the inside of the stalk. It is nourishing and sweet, and is called the marrow of the date-tree. They eat also the young leaves, with lemon-juice; and the old ones are dried, and used for making mats, baskets, and many other articles, with which they carry on a considerable trade. From the stumps of the branches arise a great number of delicate filaments, of which ropes, and even a coarse cloth, are manufactured.

Indeed I believe all the palms are very useful, even the humble dwarf fan-palm, which we saw also in this collection, and which Mr. Lumley says is very plentiful in Algarve, the southern province of Portugal; it seldom grows more than three or four feet high, though the stem is thick: its fan-shaped leaves are used for making the baskets in which the dried figs are packed; and its young shoots are eaten as vegetables.

But I was surprised not to see in this collection the silk-thread palm, that celebrated tree which you and I have had the pleasure of seeing in its own country, with its beautiful, long, serrated leaves, composed of innumerable fibres, both finer and stronger than silk, and of which the fishing-nets are sometimes made. How useful it would be if this tree could be induced to grow in England--and how my uncle and aunt would laugh at me if they saw this sentence!

We returned by a different road, and I enjoyed the day very much; the drive was in itself so pleasant, and it is so satisfactory to see any thing new with people who have real knowledge like my companions, and who are alive to the pleasure of seeing what is curious. The Miss Lumleys have seen very little, they have seldom been out of the forest in their lives; yet they are not at all ignorant. They told me that they have not much time for reading, but that what little knowledge they have, has been acquired by the conversation of their father and mother.

Mrs. Lumley is rather silent in company; she seems to have much tenderness, mixed with a firm mind--and though always cheerful, she looks as if she had suffered a great deal. I imagine they are in confined circumstances, for she said to-day that till the morning they came here she had not been for many years in a carriage.

_9th._ _Sunday._--After breakfast this morning my uncle conversed a little with us about the Epistles of St. Paul, which I had been saying were very difficult to understand; he remarked, “that if we attended to the long parentheses that St. Paul makes, and in which his energy and warmth sometimes seem to carry him away, we might easily connect the chain of his argument. But,” said he, “there are other causes of occasional obscurity. One is the nature of epistolary composition, leading the writer to refer to personal and local circumstances, and particularly to conversations, which were well known to those whom he addressed, and therefore not needing explanation to them. Another arises from the many allusions to peculiar laws and customs that were familiar to his readers, but requiring much research to comprehend them now. There is a third, and a very important circumstance, which is a source of frequent perplexity to commentators, and which, in some degree, affects all the writings of the New Testament, particularly those parts where doctrines are taught rather than facts detailed. Our great philosopher, Locke, alludes to this difficulty: he somewhere observes, that the subjects treated of in the Epistles are so wholly new, and their doctrines so different from the notions that mankind had previously adopted, that many of the most important terms have a different signification from what the same Greek words bear in the heathen authors. Indeed it is obvious that the common Greek language of the day could not furnish accurate expressions for doctrines either entirely new, or derived from the Mosaic law, and the writings of the Jewish prophets. Hence the writers of the New Testament were obliged to employ Greek words, whose meanings were determined rather by analogy, than by their original derivation; and to combine them according to the idioms of the Hebrew and Syriac languages, rather than by the natural construction of Grecian phraseology.

“It is remarkable,” he continued, “that this circumstance is one which some rash infidels have presumed to consider as inconsistent with the idea of a divine interference in the promulgation of Christianity; and yet on sober inquiry, it will be found materially to strengthen its evidence. For if no phrase had been used which was not in conformity to the purity of the Grecian tongue, we should lose one of the great marks of authenticity in the New Testament--its peculiar language. You will readily perceive that the Hebraisms and Syriasms by which it is distinguished, and which could have proceeded only from men of Hebrew origin, prove it to have been a production of the first century; for after the death of the first Jewish converts to Christianity, we find hardly any instance of Jews becoming preachers of the gospel: and as to the Christian fathers, they were mostly ignorant of Hebrew. This distinguishing mark is to be found in all the books of the New Testament, in different degrees; nor have these idioms the appearance of art or design, being exactly such as might be expected from persons who used a language spoken, indeed, where they lived, but not the dialect of their country.

“Obscurity, from this cause, more particularly applies to St. Paul’s Epistles, because they were designed principally for the Jews. St. Paul, indeed, was born at Tarsus, and his native language was therefore Greek; but having been a very zealous Jew, it was natural that his language should be tinctured by Hebraisms; and it is probable that had he studied to avoid the air of a Celician Jew, in speaking or writing, his language would not have been so well adapted to his purpose, and would have made far less impression on the multitude.”

_11th._--I have made such a discovery! I long to tell you, Mamma, though I dare say you have already guessed it. I have discovered that Mr. Lumley is the very person whom my uncle met at the harvest home, and whose history I wrote to you. But I never heard my uncle speak of him by any other name than Fitzroy, which I now find is one of his Christian names.

This evening we happened to be speaking of accomplishments, and Miss Lumley said that she had none to boast of.--“I believe you know,” said she, “that since we left Strath Morton, a place I shall never forget, though I was then very young, we have been obliged to employ ourselves in what was useful only; and, until very lately, to assist mamma even in the menial work of the house. I do not feel ashamed to mention this,” she added; “for it is really gratifying to think and speak of all that my dear mamma was able to do; I only wish you could have witnessed the cheerfulness that accompanied all her exertions.”

She described their little cottage as it was at first, and their way of living; and then continued--“We were anxious to save mamma from some of the drudgery there must be, even in the smallest family; and, though often against her will, my sister and I shared, as much as children could, in her laborious occupations.

“She and my father gave us the best of all knowledge, that of religion--they taught us to feel well the weakness of our nature, and to look up with trust to that Power, who gives assistance to the humble. Their leisure was devoted to giving us solid instruction, to the cultivation of our minds, and even to directing our taste to literature.

“If sometimes we amused ourselves with a pencil, or tried to sing one of Mamma’s songs, she was delighted to encourage and assist us--and instead of lamenting that we could not do more, it raised her spirits to see even our childish attempts. Indeed, she has often said that the delight of seeing us gay, open-hearted, and good, was all she wanted; and when we danced merrily to our own singing, or made a scratchy drawing of a tree, she used to reward us with one of her sweet encouraging smiles, and would say, ‘Perseverance will do much; and as music and drawing are useful accomplishments, when kept in their right places, your attempts give me pleasure; but I value your cheerful dispositions, and grateful hearts still more.’

“And indeed Mamma was right, for never were there happier creatures than we have been, though enjoying but few of what are called comforts. Our gardens, our forest plays, and the pains we took in watching the habits of birds and insects, were our never-failing amusements; and we desired no more, if we were but sure that Papa and Mamma were pleased with us. To the constant visits of Mr. Benson, our good old clergyman, we are indeed indebted for much of what we know; he speaks to us so kindly, and he often reads with us, and removes our difficulties by his clear explanations. He has always approved of our acquaintance with the creeping and flying inhabitants of the forests, for he says, natural history is not only a most entertaining occupation, but well suited to a religious mind.”

_12th._--My aunt, in the course of the last week, frequently turned the conversation on Mr. Lumley’s travels: and he told us many interesting things that he had seen both in Italy and Portugal. First about the vine. In one of the Minho vallies, not far from Oporto, the fields are small, and surrounded by high oaks, chesnuts, and poplars; the ground is artificially watered, and every tree supports a vine, which mounts to the top, and hangs its clusters to the highest branches. In other places, the vines are supported on rough trellises, so as to form shady arched walks in summer. But neither of those methods is supposed to produce as good fruit as when the vines are kept low; and as these are planted in straight rows, corn and other vegetables are sown between them. They are pruned down every year into the shape of a bush; and a short time before and after they come into blossom, all superfluous branches are removed, and some of the leaves are afterwards taken off to expose the fruit to the sun. The ground is hoed before the leaves come out in spring, and again before the flower comes. Rising grounds are usually preferred for vine culture, and when they are very steep, the earth is supported by dry walls, so as to convert the face of the hill into a succession of narrow terraces, which prevent the heavy rains from washing away the soil from the roots.

He then told us that when figs are gathered in that country, they are thrown into a heap, in a building prepared for the purpose, and that a syrup flows from them which is used for making brandy. They are then spread to dry in the sun, and after some days, are pressed into small baskets, made of the dwarf fan-palm, each basket containing 28 pounds weight.

The carob tree is one of the most beautiful of European trees, according to Mr. Lumley’s account; it attains a considerable height, and has a wide shady top, with a graceful, evergreen foliage of small glossy leaves. The wood is hard and red, and very useful; and the large pods of seed when dry, make excellent fodder for cattle: this tree is also called St. John’s bread.

But what made the greatest impression on me, was his description of a forest of date palms, near the town of Elche in Valencia. The fruit hanging on all sides, in large clusters of an orange colour, and the men swinging on ropes to gather them, formed, he says, a very striking scene. The trees were old and lofty; and their number was said to exceed two hundred thousand. Many of them had their branches bound up to a point, and covered with mats, by which process they became white; they are then cut off and sent by ship-loads from Alicant, to various parts of Italy, for the grand processions on Palm Sunday.

Mr. L. says, that the little chick pea forms a considerable part of the food of the poor in Portugal; and even common lupines, when soaked in running water to destroy their bitterness, are boiled, and sold in the market-place, and the people eat them out of their pockets. They are also used by the poor in Italy, but generally along with chesnuts, which are bruised and made into a sort of cake.

In ascending the Apennines, Mr. Lumley came to a mountain village, of very singular appearance; it gave him more the idea of a collection of huts in some savage country; no streets, no gardens, no appearance of cultivation, except a few great chesnut trees, that united their branches over the miserable houses. The people have large flocks of goats and sheep, whose milk supplies them with cheese, and whose wool is spun by the women in winter, and manufactured into a kind of stuff.

Most of the inhabitants of the Apennines depend on chesnuts, pigeons, bees, and milk, for their food; and like the natives of Auvergne, they make all their own furniture and clothes. They earn, however, a good deal by going every year to work, for the harvest season, in Lombardy and Tuscany, and the money they gain there, they bring carefully home.

The summer pastures, for the cattle of the rich plains of Tuscany, extend along the brow of the lower chain of the Apennine mountains, where there are a few huts to shelter the wandering shepherds. Those plains, he says, are scarcely habitable in hot weather, from the pestilential effects of the _malaria_, which produces agues and fevers, and which probably arises from the exhalations of the low stagnant marshes. He also saw a vast number of goats; one flock consisted of twelve hundred, and though apparently very wild, they come regularly to their shepherds, twice a-day, to be milked, and are always rewarded with a little salt.

He afterwards visited the vale of Arno, and travelled along the right bank of that river, at the foot of the Apennines. He describes the forests of chesnut trees, which appeared on the higher slopes of the mountains, with their fresh and beautiful verdure, as forming a singular contrast with the pale blue tint of the olive trees, which cover the lower hills. The road was bordered on each side by pretty brick houses, consisting of a single story, and separated from the road by a walled terrace, on which are commonly placed stone vases, containing flowers or orange trees, or aloes; and the house itself completely covered with vines. At the doors, or seated on shady benches, were groups of young female peasants, nicely dressed in white linen, with silk bodice, and straw hats ornamented with flowers. They are constantly employed in plaiting straw for the fine Florence or Leghorn hats; and they earn a great deal of money, which they are permitted to lay by for their dower; but out of this they pay a certain allowance to poor women, who do their share of the farm work. He was assured that a crop of two acres would supply straw sufficient for the whole manufacture of hats in Tuscany. It is the stalk of beardless wheat, cut before it is quite ripe; and the poverty of the soil, which is never manured, keeps it white.

Between Pisa and the sea, he passed through a forest of ilex. The leaves of all these trees were bitten off at the same height--just twelve feet from the ground; and, on inquiry, he found that they had been eaten by camels. He soon after saw two hundred of these animals lying on the sand, waiting to return into the wood as the day became hotter. He was much amused by a group who rose up as he approached, and who, in trotting off with their young, bounded and leaped about with a vivacity which scarcely seemed to belong to their awkward-looking figure. It is said that this Asiatic race of camels was brought into Italy, at the time of the Crusades, by the Grand Prior of Pisa. Mr. L. says they do most of the farm labour.

On this plain he saw also a herd of nearly two thousand cattle. The cows are so wild and fierce, that it is impossible to milk them; and they are killed by the torreadors with short lances, after a sort of hunt, which affords great diversion to the country people. These Tartar habits, he says, are very opposite to those of the vale of Arno, where every thing has been brought to the extreme of art and civilization.

I have been so much interested in all these circumstances, that I have sat up very late to write them for you; and though I have not got through half of them, I will now go to bed like a good girl. One word more: I must add that the shepherds in the neighbourhood of Rome, who resemble Tartars, with their long pikes and wrapped in mantles, come every evening with their flocks to seek an asylum within the walls of the city; as they dare not sleep exposed to the noxious air of the adjoining country, where there are no cottages, and where the water even is infected. They take possession of houses and palaces which have been abandoned by the inhabitants, who have been driven into the interior of the city by the malaria.

_13th._--To-morrow is the last day of the visit of these charming Lumleys. I shall be very sorry to lose them, for I have liked them better every day. The second has the sweetest voice that can be, and joined in some of our glees, which she easily learned. Once or twice they sang all together for us, in the way they do at home; and, among other things, a beautiful little hymn, which we discovered was written by Mrs. L. If I can, I will send it to you and Marianne; and, perhaps, some time or other, we three may also sing it together. Oh! when will that time come?

Even now that I know their history, it is difficult to perceive in their appearance and manners that they have lived in such complete retirement, for they always express themselves in good language; and, though timid, they are not in the least awkward. Whatever they do, they do well. They are excellent arithmeticians, and answered some puzzling questions of my uncle’s with a facility that surprised him. The power of calculating in the head he thinks highly useful; and, on this occasion, he encouraged me to try with the rest, by shewing me how to seize upon the leading points of a question. At first I made no attempt, but spent the time, that others were at work, in thinking that I had no chance of success. Having at last, however, recovered from this silly fit, I exerted myself, and actually gave the first answers to the three following questions: though I will not say that some of the party did not good-naturedly wait a little for me. I send them to Marianne, though I know they will appear trifling to her, for she was always quicker at arithmetic than I was; but tell her the great thing is, to do them in her head.

How much time, in the course of thirty years, does a person gain, who rises at six o’clock in the morning, over another who sleeps till nine; supposing that the former goes to bed at eleven, and the latter at midnight?

There is a cistern in this house, which contains 180 gallons of water: it is supplied by a feeding pipe, which admits 15 gallons in ten minutes; and the tap, or discharging pipe, lets off 12 gallons in six minutes. Now suppose, when the cistern was exactly half full, that both cocks were opened, and that, at the end of an hour afterwards, the tap-cock was shut: in what time will the cistern be filled?

Herodotus mentions a brass vessel, that was shown in Scythia in his time, which was six digits in thickness, and contained 600 _amphoræ_, or about 4300 gallons. It had been made of arrow points, collected by the king from his subjects, in order to ascertain their number--each individual being obliged to bring one. Such a vessel would be 11 or 12 feet in diameter; and, from the thickness of the metal, must have weighed about 71,000 pounds troy. Now, if each arrow point was half an ounce, the question is--Of how many fighting men could the Scythian monarch boast? for it is not probable that the women and children were included in that kind of warlike census.

My uncle was pleased at the efforts I made, even when I failed, because it shewed that I had conquered my old enemy--indolence.

I wrote down these questions while they were fresh in my mind; and then we all went to take our last walk together to Franklin’s farm. We found him and his active wife fixing on the situation of the house and garden, and orchard.

They have chosen a place where there is a pretty slope in the ground, so that the drains will have a good fall from the house. The garden is to be in front, and the orchard at one side. They are going to double-trench the ground, by digging it to twice the depth of the spade. It is to be left in that state during the winter; and the soil, being thus exposed to the action of air and frost, will be improved. In the course of the winter they will plant a young hedge round the garden.

This day was one of those lovely, mild, sunny days in October, of which I have often heard you speak.

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams.

We staid out till sunset, enjoying the balmy air and amusing ourselves capping verses. This we are all very fond of, and all strove hard for victory; but I must confess that Mary was most frequently the conqueror.

_14th._--It has surprised every body how much knowledge these Miss Lumleys have acquired; and yesterday, when we were out walking, my aunt expressed this surprise to Mrs. Lumley.

“Next to the great principles of religion and morality,” she replied, “we endeavoured from their infancy to give them habits of _exactness_, which we have always found lead not only to regularity and economy of time, but become great preservatives of truth. On such a foundation it was not difficult to engraft the love of knowledge; and literature was always made an indulgence, not a task. After affectionately helping me in our many coarse and laborious works, they first sympathised in the pleasure they perceived I felt, when I had time to read a few pages of some interesting history or poem; and, from sympathy, they soon began to taste the pleasure themselves.”

They continued the conversation till dinnertime, and both seemed equally pleased at finding how exactly they agreed in their sentiments on education. In the evening, after some music, my aunt, who had been particularly gratified with the piety that appeared in every thing that had dropped from Mrs. Lumley, but who knew that very good people sometimes differed in opinion on trifling matters, said to her, “I should be inclined to play some lively tunes, and set our young people to dance; but I am not sure whether you approve of dancing, and in such a slight thing I would not offend opinions that I am sure deserve respect.”

“Indeed,” she replied, “I feel, just as you do, great pleasure in seeing young people cheerful, and enjoying amusements suited to their age; nor can I find in any part of that Book which should be our guide, one word to indicate the impropriety of social amusement--if moderately indulged in, and not made the business of life. Moderation, in all things, I do indeed enjoin. My daughters, I fear, can ill take a part in a dance with yours--but I shall be delighted to see my good, homely girls amused. I must add,” continued she, “that I should be sorry you mistook my opinions; misfortune has made me think seriously, but not harshly. It has given me deeper views of religion than I had in the careless hours of prosperity, but at the same time it has convinced me how much more there is of affected singularity than of real religion, in prohibiting a moderate degree of amusement. It is very probable that I might have become enthusiastic or melancholy, had it not been for the friendship of Mr. Benson, that good clergyman who lives near us. It is not too much to say, that in his conduct, as well as in his sentiments, he shews the happiest union of Christian piety with all the social virtues; and that his profound learning on the most important of all subjects, is embellished by the graces and knowledge of this world.”

My aunt then sat down to the piano-forte, and summoned us all to dance. Mr. L. and my uncle were so good as to join our party, and we danced very merrily for about an hour; and so ends our last night with these very engaging Lumleys.

MRS. LUMLEY’S HYMN.

Teach me, O God! to Thee my voice to raise In meek submission, and in humble praise; In all events, thy gracious will to see, In all misfortunes, to behold but Thee.

To feel, in want and anguish, all thy love, The tender father’s discipline to own; To know that sorrow comes, my heart to prove, To feel the warning of thy awful frown.

O! make me grateful, that I’m timely tried, And forced from earthly cares to love Thee, Lord! That, by thy chastisement, thus purified, I live in Thee, and in Thy holy word.

As lightning clears the sky, by clouds o’ercast, So shall adversity my heart revive; When worldly joy is gone, and sorrow past, My humbled heart in faith and hope shall live.

The sun behind our western hills declines, But gilds the evening clouds with golden ray: Thus when the morn of life no longer shines, Still Christian hope illumes our fading day. And as the rising sun dispels the night, So shall we wake with joy in Gospel light.

_15th._--Mr. Lumley said the other day, that the inhabitants of the Apennines were like the people of Auvergne in their manners; so I took an opportunity this morning of asking my aunt some questions about them. She told me, that Auvergne has been very little known till lately; even the remarkable fact, that the whole district is a collection of extinct volcanoes, has not been very long discovered. It has been visited by few travellers, and the people seem to have had but little intercourse with their neighbours. Bakewell’s Travels were in the room, and she gave me the following passages to read.

“It was market day, and we met a long train of carts with wood, each drawn by four oxen, coming to Clermont. The dress and appearance of the mountaineers who were conducting the carts, were very striking; with immense broad-brimmed hats, long, lank hair, gaunt features, and striped cloth cloaks, that reached nearly to their feet, they bore no resemblance to Frenchmen, and they spoke a different language. I believe they are the descendants from the same race who resisted Cæsar, for whatever changes may have taken place in other parts of France, none of the warlike hordes who ravaged the more fertile parts of the country in succeeding ages, would have wished to take possession of the sterile mountains of Auvergne, or to undertake the task of driving out the original inhabitants. I was much surprised, on entering some of the houses, to observe that the lamps, waterpots, and other earthenware vessels, were of the same form as the Etruscan vessels from Herculaneum; they are doubtless made after models transmitted from very remote antiquity, as vessels of these forms are not found in any other parts of France that I have visited. The music of the Auvergnats is the bagpipe.

“Many of the families in the lower or middle rank of life, have small vineyards, and make wine for their own use. A freehold vineyard, which costs two hundred francs, or about eight pounds sterling, produced wine, more than sufficient for a family of five persons, as we were informed by one of these little proprietors. They cultivate the vineyards themselves; and seem to live in contented and obscure independence, relying on their own industry for every thing, and preserving the customs of their remote ancestors.”

_16th._ _Sunday._--The history of our first parents, and the nature of their transgression, was the subject of our conversation this morning. Towards the end of it, my uncle said, “It is a strange error, though some sensible people seem to have fallen into it, to doubt the truth of this early part of sacred history, because the eating of a certain fruit was apparently too trifling to be considered a trial of obedience. But there is one circumstance which they do not seem to have sufficiently considered; that, if it was necessary to lay Adam under some small restraint, to remind him, that notwithstanding his dominion over all things, he was still the servant of the Most High; a trial of his obedience to any _moral_ precepts could scarcely have been made, for there was no opportunity at that time of violating them. For instance, there was nothing to tempt him to idolatry, when every recent circumstance must have carried with it a conviction of the single power of the Almighty; and when the impression of the Creator’s beneficent agency was kept alive by the frequent visits of his glorious presence. Highly favoured creatures, the voice of their God was a sound familiar to their ears!

“As there were no other inhabitants in the world, it was impossible to steal, murder, covet, or commit any crime against society. It had been, therefore, vain indeed, to forbid that which could not be done. There could be no virtue in abstaining from crimes to which there was no temptation. But there would have been virtue in submitting to the commands of God, who required only this simple abstinence, in token of their subjection; and no matter how small the trial, it was their part to have obeyed. It pleases God to try our virtue sometimes with very small temptations, and the weakness with which we transgress in the least things, may convince us that we are not very capable of resisting great temptations.

“Insignificant creatures that we are, with narrow views and limited perceptions; we are always ready to arraign the decrees of the Supreme Disposer of all, and to wonder why things are not otherwise. I have read a good remark, made by Philo a learned Jew, which may apply to this presumptuous disposition of mankind. In treating of the plagues of Egypt, he says, ‘Some inquire why God punished the country by such minute and contemptible animals, as flies and frogs, rather than by lions, leopards, or other savage beasts that prey on man. But let them reflect, that God chose rather to correct, than to destroy the inhabitants--if he had desired to annihilate them utterly, he had no need to have made use of any auxiliaries. Let them remember, also, that when God--the source of all power--who stands in need of no assistance, chooses to employ instruments, as it were, to inflict chastisement; instead of the strongest, he selects the mean and the despicable--but which, in his service, are endowed with irresistible force.’”

_17th._--As my uncle saw how much I was interested about the Laplanders, and their reindeer, he was so good as to read to us, last night, an account of them, from De Capell Brooke’s travels, a very entertaining book, which has been lately published. I will transcribe a little of it here, as I know Marianne will like to see it.

“My landlord having received intelligence that the Laplanders, with their reindeer, were within a mile of Fugleness, I was anxious to avail myself of the opportunity of seeing them. After an hour’s walk, we found the tent and its owner, Per Mathison; and inside the tent, into which we crept, Marit, his wife, was busy preparing the utensils for milking the deer, and making the cheese. She was not more than four feet nine inches high, and of a brown complexion, which seemed more the result of habitual dirt, and of living constantly in smoke, than of nature. She had on her summer dress of dirty white cloth, girt round by a belt, to which was suspended a small knife; and her _komagers_, or shoes, were of strong leather, forming a peak at the toes. On her head she wore a high cap, made partly of cloth, and partly of bits of coloured calico. This cap is peculiar to the Norwegian Lapland, and is rather elegant in its shape. Though wild and uncouth, her manners did not betray the surliness so conspicuous in her husband. The latter was dressed in reindeer fawn skins, which, being thin and pliable, were not likely to be too warm.

“Another Laplander and his wife lived in the same tent. This man seemed to be a partner of Per Mathison; their deer were mixed together, but the superior number belonged to the latter, and he was evidently head of the family, which was easily perceived, from his idleness and inactivity, mixed with a kind of gruff independence, that bespoke a laird of the mountains. He had, for the last two summers, brought his herd of deer to the mountains of Whale Island, from the interior of Norwegian Lapland--a distance of more than two hundred miles. Here he remained between two and three months; and, before the approach of winter, again returned to his native forests.

“In about two hours, the distant barking of the dogs indicated the coming of the deer, which we at last discerned winding slowly along the mountains, at the distance of near a mile, appearing like a black moving mass. They now approached the fold, which was a large space that had been cleared of the brushwood, and inclosed by branches of dwarf birch and aspen, stuck around to prevent the deer from straying. As the herd came up to it, the deer made frequent snortings; and a loud crackling was heard, produced by their divided hoofs striking against each other. These animals, being endued with an exquisite sense of smelling, soon perceived there were strangers near; and our appearance, so different from the dress of the Laplanders to which they had been accustomed, alarmed them to such a degree, that it was necessary for us to retire till they had entered the fold. After some difficulty, the whole herd were at length collected within the circle; and the women, bringing their bowls from the tent, began the operation of milking, which, as some hundreds of deer were assembled, was likely to take up a considerable time. In this both the men and women were busily employed. Before each deer was milked, a cord with a noose was thrown round the horns, by which it was secured and kept steady. The Laplanders are extremely expert at this; and it was surprising to see the exactness with which the noose was thrown from a distance; hardly ever failing to light upon the horns of the deer for which it was intended, though in the thickest of the herd. The cord for this purpose was made of the fibres of the birch, very neatly plaited together, and exceedingly strong. During the short time the animal was milking, this cord was either held by one of the women, or made fast to a birch shrub; some of the thickest having been stripped of their leaves, and left standing for this purpose. Many of the deer, instead of being tractable, as I had imagined, were very refractory, frequently even throwing the women down, and hurting them with their horns. They seemed very little to mind this; but, strong as the Laplanders are, they appeared to have little power over these animals, for when one had the cord round its horns, and refused to be milked, it dragged the holder with ease round the fold. The quantity of milk that each deer gave scarcely exceeded a tea-cup full; but it was extremely luscious, of a fine aromatic flavour, and richer than cream. Of this we eagerly partook, after we had permission; which, however, Per Mathison did not at first seem willing to grant, but his sullen nature was soon softened by brandy.

“In the middle of the herd of deer, suspended to the branches of a low birch, was a child about a year old, enclosed in a kind of cradle, or case covered with leather. The Laplanders, when obliged to go any distance from their tents, frequently leave their children thus suspended on a tree, by which they are secured from the attack of any ravenous animal.

“It was past midnight before the whole of the herd was milked. The sun had left the heavens about an hour, but a deep orange tint, on the verge of the horizon, shewed that it was not far below it. The deer were at length turned out from the fold; and, spreading themselves along the sides of the mountains, were quickly lost to our view. The Laplanders now collecting the milk, which amounted to a considerable quantity, proceeded with it to the tent, inviting us to supper. We crept in, and seated ourselves on reindeer skins, which were strewed on the ground. The business of making cheese now commenced: and Marit, emptying the milk from the bowls into a large iron pot, placed it over a fire, in the centre of the tent, the smoke of which annoyed us much. In a short time, the milk assumed the appearance of curd; and, being taken off, was placed in small moulds, made of beech wood, and pressed together. The number of cheeses thus made amounted to about eight, of the size of a common plate, and barely an inch in thickness. The whey and curds that remained were for our supper, though the dirty habits of the people much diminished my appetite.

“After supper was finished, and the bowls and other utensils removed to a corner of the tent, fresh wood was placed on the fire, which again enveloped us in smoke. On its burning up, the flames reached the cheeses, which had been placed on a board directly over the fire, that the smoke might harden them. Their richness and the heat caused large drops of oil to trickle from them, which the men licked up with evident relish.

“The whole group was a curious one. Opposite to us, around the fire, were the uncouth figures of the Laplanders, squatting on their haunches. In one corner were two children asleep in deer-skins; and more than twenty small dogs were also reposing about us. It was soon time for the men to commence their nightly employment of watching the deer, and accordingly one of them left the tent. On making a signal, about half the dogs, whose turn it was to commence the watch, started suddenly up, and followed their master to the mountains. I was greatly surprised to find the rest take no notice of the summons, and remain quietly stretched on their deer-skins, well aware, singular as it may seem, that it was not their turn.”

_18th._--Mary is reading Waddington’s Visit to Ethiopia and Dongola, and she shewed me an account in it of the _mirage_, that most curious deception of the sight.

In crossing the immense sandy plain near Askán, in Dongola, Mr. W. says they had a good view of the mirage. It assumed at first the appearance of a broad winding stream, which he mistook for the Nile. It then changed rather suddenly from a river to a sea, covering the whole of the horizon in front of the party; while castles, trees, and rocks seemed to stand in the middle of the water, in which those objects were most distinctly reflected. The apparent distance of the nearest part was continually changing from one quarter to three quarters of a mile.

At Bakkil Mr. W. saw another beautiful mirage; and he remarks that the two or three places where he had seen this phenomenon in the greatest perfection, were peculiarly frequented by the antelope, as if she loved the banks of that fairy sea, and delighted to gaze upon its fugitive waters. It is a singular coincidence with this observation, that the mirage is called by the Arabs of the Desert,--the lake of the gazelles.

I was anxious to learn something further on this curious subject, and not knowing what books to consult, I applied to my uncle. He tells me that a species of mirage is very common at sea; distant ships seem grotesquely caricatured by it either in length or in height; and sometimes, over the real vessel, an inverted picture of it appears suspended in the sky, with the masts of each prolonged, so as to unite. A similar effect was observed in the desert by the French, in their Egyptian expedition; the villages appearing distorted, or raised above their natural level, or as if built on an island in the middle of a lake. As they approached, the apparent surface of the water became narrower and narrower, till it disappeared; and the same deceptive appearance began again at the next village. But all travellers through sandy plains, in hot climates, mention this kind of optical deception, and particularly that of its having the appearance of water. Some of them, after having travelled for hours in a burning desert, faint and exhausted, have had their spirits revived by the sight of water, and have eagerly pushed on to refresh themselves and their poor camels; you may judge of their disappointment when they perceived that it was all illusion.

Another very remarkable instance of mirage, my uncle says, has been more than once seen at Reggio, in the straits of Messina, where it is called the Fata Morgana. When the rays of the sun form an angle of about 45° with the sea, and that the bright surface of the water in the bay is not disturbed by wind or current, if the spectator be placed with his back to the sun, there suddenly appears on the water the most incomprehensible variety of objects--pilasters, arches, and castles, lofty towers and extensive palaces, with all their balconies and windows--or perhaps trees, vallies, and plains, with their herds and flocks--armies of men, on foot and on horseback, and many other strange objects; all in their natural colours, and all in action, passing rapidly in succession along the surface of the sea. But if, besides the circumstances before described, the atmosphere happens to be loaded with a dense vapour, which the sun had not previously dispersed, the observer will behold a representation of the same objects in the air, as if traced there on a curtain; though not so distinct or well defined as those on the sea. These curious appearances were fancifully called by the Italians, the castles of the Fairy Morgana.

My uncle says that the celebrated Dr. Wollaston has proved, by some very ingenious experiments, that they arise from the irregular refraction of the rays of light, in passing through contiguous portions of air, of different densities. One of these experiments he was so good as to shew us; and as it is so simple, that Marianne can easily try it, I will endeavour to describe it here.

He put a little clear syrup into a square phial, and then poured about an equal quantity of water into it, over the syrup. The phial was set on the table, and having placed a printed card about an inch behind it, he made us observe that when we looked through the syrup, or through the water, the letters on the card appeared _erect_; but, that when they were seen through that part where the two fluids were gradually mixing together, the letters were equally distinct, but _inverted_. A similar effect, he said, may be produced with hot and cold water, or even by two portions of cold and heated air; and to shew us this, he performed another very easy experiment. He placed two of the library chairs back to back, and about a foot apart; he connected the tops of the chairs with two bits of strong wire, and on the wires he laid the kitchen poker, the square end of which he had made red hot. Exactly in the direction of the poker he pinned a large printed A upon the wall, which was about ten feet distant; and then desired us to look at it along the heated poker. We did so, and we all distinctly saw three images of the A, the middle one being inverted, and the two others erect.

Dear mamma, how this reminded me of the day when you first explained to us the meaning of _refraction_, and shewed us the pretty little experiment of the stick, which appeared to bend just at the surface of the water. How often I now feel the benefit of all your patient instruction, and how often I wish I had your excellent memory, which enabled you to teach us so many things, without having any books to assist you!

_20th._--My cousins like Eastern tales just as much as I do--and my uncle speaks of the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments as if he was still a boy. He thinks that they are not only very ingenious, but that many of the apparent wonders, which are related as supernatural, may be easily explained, by means of the chemical and philosophical knowledge which is too generally supposed to be the result of late discoveries. I should like to read over all my favourite tales with him, for the benefit of his explanations. What brought them into my mind now, was a pretty little anecdote which I once heard him tell Grace, and which she has just been repeating to me.

In Khorasân, there was a certain old caravanserai, called Zafferounee, which was once so very extensive, as to contain seventeen hundred chambers, besides baths and shops, and besides accommodation for thousands of cattle within its walls. It is said to have been erected by one of those wealthy Eastern merchants, who delighted in perpetuating their names by acts of public utility. While it was building, and a large quantity of straw and clay were mixing up for that purpose on the road near it, a cafilah, consisting of a hundred camels, loaded with saffron, chanced to pass; and one of them, slipping into the clay, fell, and was disabled. Their owner inveighed bitterly against those who by so carelessly doing their work on the public road, had occasioned such a serious loss to him. The merchant, who was himself superintending the progress of the building, on hearing these complaints, inquired what might be the value not only of the camel, which had been disabled, but of all the rest; and purchasing the whole on the spot, ordered the saffron to be tumbled into the clay, and worked up with it, instead of chopped straw. It was from this that the caravanserai obtained the name of Zafferounee, or Saffron.

This rich merchant, however, fell afterwards into difficulties, as might have been expected, from his extravagance, and at last became a beggar. Travelling in search of subsistence, into foreign countries, he happened to visit the place where the camel-driver, now grown immensely rich, lived in splendour. It came to the ears of the latter, that a stranger, in poverty, who spoke of his former riches in Khorasân, was living wretchedly in the town; and suspecting that this might be his old benefactor, he invited him to his house; and after feasting him superbly, induced him to relate his history: when, in concluding it, the unhappy Khorasânee described his destitute condition, the other interrupted him, saying, “How can you call yourself poor, when you are, in reality, a man possessed of great riches?” “Ah! no,” replied the other; “once, indeed, I had much wealth, but all is gone; and I am now a beggar!” On this his host carried him to a secret chamber, which was full of money--“This,” said he, “is all yours; it is the price of the saffron which you so liberally purchased from me: I have traded upon it and become rich, but the original sum I have always reserved as belonging to you; take it now, and live happily.”

Grace is always encouraged to repeat to others the little stories which are told to her: I wish you could have heard her relating this to us before tea.

_22d._--Well, I am in actual possession of the old quarry. Having settled all my plans, I at once set to work, and my uncle was so good as to let me have one of the workmen to help me, because he said my ideas were rational. The opening of the quarry fronts the south-west; the rock at the back is high and steep, and a spring, which trickles from it, keeps the part which had been most deeply worked constantly full of water. In this I have put several pretty water-plants--Mr. Biggs, I know, lays a quantity of peat compost in his pond; but though I have not been able to obtain that yet, I have planted the white and the yellow water lily, which the gardener found for me a few miles off. A thick skreen of shrubs has been planted by my uncle’s directions, above the rocks to the north, but no forest trees, for in a short time they would outgrow the place which they ornament only while young.

The middle and southern parts of the quarry are to be sloped and dressed; all the briars have been already taken out, and the loose splinters of the quarry are spread on the surface of the bank. Upon these, the gardener has laid a mixture of peat earth and sand, which he had to spare; and here I intend to have an incomparable bed of strawberries.

South of these, and where the rocky bank sinks, I am filling up the hollow and uneven spots with the same mixture and rotten leaves; for Mr. Biggs says that the natural soil of the beautiful North American shrubs is chiefly formed of decayed vegetables.

Groups of _rhododendron_, _azalea_, _kalmia_, and many more, which, as I have learnt from that delightful book, Miller’s dictionary, are suited to that soil and aspect, are to flourish there; and by Mary’s advice, they are to be mixed with some of the Scotch roses. These are rather scarce here; but Mr. Biggs has been so generous as to send me a small piece of the root of each of his own rose bushes. There are a few fibres on them, and he assures me they will sprout in spring--so it will be a good experiment at least. I shall also have a little grass plat, with a few small beds for choice flowers, which I expect will blossom very early in this little snug spot.

I have planted some of the _lobelia fulgens_, and a _hydrangea_, which is a native of marshy ground, near the edge of the pond--and when spring comes, I hope to execute many other grand plans which I have formed, from hearing Mr. Biggs. My cousins approve of them, and all help me, and Mary wonders she never thought of adorning the old quarry before.

I am now very busy in making a bed for _ixia_, _gladiolis_, _lachenalia_, and _oxalis_--they are usually in a greenhouse, but I hear that, if planted late in October, in a soil composed of peat earth, and sharp sand, and over this, if a layer of peat, eight inches thick, be laid, to prevent the frost from reaching them, they will be in beautiful blossom in spring. I will try this--my uncle encourages experiment; he says it is the high road to truth--and he assists all who wish to travel on it.

_23rd._, _Sunday._--I asked my uncle this morning to tell me the meaning of Noah’s prediction, “God shall enlarge Japhet, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem.” In reply, he told us the opinions of a very learned person, for whose writings he has a high respect; and I will endeavour to give you the substance of what he said.

“The most obvious meaning of the expression is, that Providence would bless Japhet with a numerous progeny, which should not only spread over an ample tract of country, but that they would afterwards encroach on the territory of Shem’s descendants. And this sense of the words is supported by history; for the whole of Europe, and a considerable part of Asia, was originally peopled, and has been always occupied, by Japhet’s offspring, who, not contented with their own possessions, have repeatedly made encroachments on the sons of Shem; as, for instance, when Alexander the Great, with an European army, attacked and overthrew the Persian monarchy; when the Romans subjected a great part of the East; and still more, when the Tartar conquerors of the race of Genghis Khan destroyed the empire of the Caliphs, took possession of their country, and made settlements in all parts of Asia. Tamerlane also led his Moguls, who were another branch of Japhet’s progeny, into Hindostan; and their descendants gradually obtained possession of that immense country, a part of Shem’s original inheritance. These events, and others of the same nature, may be considered as the accomplishment of that prophecy; not only because they answer to the natural import of its terms, but because they have had great influence on the state of true religion in various parts of the world; so that in this interpretation we find the two circumstances which are the characteristics of a true interpretation,--an agreement with the facts recorded in history, and a connection of the particular prediction with the general system of the prophetic word.

“It would seem, however, that some amicable intercourse between parts of those two great families is implied by the expression, ‘Japhet’s dwelling in the tents of Shem’; for the settlements made by the Portuguese, English, Dutch, and French in different parts of India, which was a part of Shem’s inheritance, may be taken in this sense. And consequences cannot but arise of great importance, from such numerous and extensive settlements of Christians, in countries where the light of the Gospel has been for ages extinguished.

“There is still a third sense: but in order to make it more apparent, it will be proper to consider the precise meaning of Shem’s blessing--a blessing obliquely conveyed in this emphatic ejaculation, ‘Blessed be Jehovah, the God of Shem!’ This evidently implied that Jehovah was to be more peculiarly the God of Shem; and in the same sense that he afterwards vouchsafed to call himself the God of one branch of Shem’s progeny--of Abraham, Isaac, and of Jacob, and of their descendants the Jewish people. Although the universal Father of all the nations of the earth, he may be said to have more particularly adopted the descendants of Shem, in choosing them to be the depositaries of the true religion, while the rest of mankind were sunk in idolatry and ignorance. Among them he preserved the knowledge and worship of himself, by a series of miraculous dispensations; to them he confided the representative priesthood, the type of the Messiah; and when the destined season came, he raised the Messiah himself from among the offspring of that chosen family.

“But the expression, ‘the tents (or tabernacles) of Shem,’ alludes to the Jewish tabernacle, which was one of the external means of preserving the worship of the true God. The word in Hebrew is the same for both tent and tabernacle. This holy tent was Shem’s tabernacle, because it was entrusted to his descendants, and because none but them might bear a part in its sacred service. Now this tabernacle, and this service, were undoubtedly emblems of the Christian church and Christian worship. It appears, then, that in the mention of the tents of Shem, Noah was inspired to make allusion to the Jewish tabernacle, as the symbol of the Christian dispensation; and that the dwelling of Japhet in those tents of Shem, took place when the idolatrous nations of Japhet’s line became converted to the faith of Christ, and worshipped the God of Shem in Shem’s tabernacles; that is, worshipped God in the truth and spirit of revealed religion.

“This prediction, therefore, bears directly upon the general object of all the prophecies--the union of all nations in the faith of Christ. And the fact is notorious, that the Gospel has, from the beginning to the present time, made the greatest progress in Europe, where the early and wide-spreading conversions of the idolaters of Japhet’s line (among whom were our own ancestors) soon led to encroachments on the territory of Shem.

“How grateful should we be,” my uncle added, “to those learned men who thus elucidate the difficult passages in Scripture, and shew the beautiful harmony of the whole prophetic system!”

_24th._--I am reading “Bartram’s Travels in North America.” It is not a late publication, but very interesting to me, as I like to compare the productions of North and South America.

Among all the beautiful trees of our Southern regions, I do not recollect having seen or heard of the deciduous cypress, the majestic grandeur of which, he says, is surprising. It generally grows in low flat grounds, that are covered, part of the year, with water. The lower part of the stem, which is frequently under water, enlarges into prodigious buttresses; and they project on every side to such a distance, that several men might hide in the recesses between them. The stem is generally hollow as high as the buttresses reach, where it forms, as it were, another beginning, and rises, in a straight uninterrupted column, to the height of 80 or 90 feet. There it throws out its noble branches like an umbrella; eagles securely build their nests in them; they are the abode of hundreds of parroquets, who delight in shelling the seeds; and even the hollow stem is not untenanted, as it affords spacious apartments for the wild bees.

The trunks supply excellent timber; and, when hollowed out, make large and durable canoes. When the planters fell these mighty trees, they erect a high stage round them, so as to reach above the buttresses; and on these stages eight or ten men can work together, with their axes.

Another curious fact which I found in this book is, that the inhabitants of East Florida prepare, from the root of the China briar, a very agreeable sort of jelly, which they call _conti_. They chop the root in pieces, which are afterwards pounded in a wooden mortar; and, when washed and strained, the sediment that settles to the bottom dries into a reddish flour. A small quantity of this, mixed with warm water and sweetened with honey, becomes a delicious jelly, when cool; or, mixed with corn flour and fried in fresh bear’s oil, it makes very nice cakes.

_26th._--I have just found, in “Bartram’s Travels,” some particulars that I do not think we knew before, of that curious species of the _Tillandsia_, commonly called long moss.

It grows on all trees in the southern regions of North America; and any part of the living plant, torn off and caught on the branches of another tree, immediately takes root. Wherever it fixes, it spreads into long pendent filaments, which subdivide themselves in an endless manner, waving in the wind like streamers, to the length of twenty feet. It is common to find the spaces between the boughs of large trees entirely occupied by masses of this plant, which, in bulk and weight, would require several men to carry. In some places, cart loads of it are found lying on the ground, torn off by the violence of the wind. When fresh, cattle and deer eat it in the winter season; and when dry, it is employed for stuffing chairs, saddles, and beds; but to prepare it properly for these purposes, it is thrown into shallow ponds of water, where the outside furry substance soon decays: it is then taken out of the water and spread in the sun; and, after a little beating, nothing remains but a hard, black, elastic filament, resembling horse-hair.

There is a curious anecdote about the name of this plant, in “Harry and Lucy concluded;” but I need not mention it here, because my uncle has sent that delightful little book to you, and I am sure Marianne will have run through it with as much eagerness as I did.

_28th._--I have just found some more instances of those strange optical deceptions, which seem to be of the same nature as the Fata Morgana. My aunt thinks that the term mirage only applies to the deceitful waters of the desert.

Mr. Dalby writes in the Philosophical Transactions that, ascending a hill in the Isle of Wight, he observed that the top of another hill, of about the same level, seemed to dance up and down as he advanced; and on bringing his eye down to within two feet of the ground, the top of the hill appeared totally detached, or lifted up from the lower part, the sky being seen under it. This he repeatedly observed; and he adds, that as the sun was rather warm for the season, with a heavy dew, there was a great deal of evaporation going on.

Another very singular example of these extraordinary appearances in the atmosphere, is given by Dr. Buchan. Walking on the cliff, about a mile east of Brighton, in the latter end of November, just as the sun was rising, he saw the face of the cliff on which he was standing represented precisely opposite to him, at some distance in the sea; and both he and his companion perceived their own figures standing on the summit of the apparent cliff, as well as the picture of a windmill near them. This phenomenon lasted about ten minutes, when it seemed to be elevated into the air, and to be gradually dissipated; and he remarks, that the surface of the sea was covered with a dense fog many yards in height, which slowly receded before the sun’s rays.

How frequently it happens, when the curiosity has been awakened by any new subject, that chance leads one to some circumstance in books, or conversation, that exactly applies to it! By mere accident, I opened Scoresby’s voyage at the following passage, which I have just time to transcribe.

After describing the amusing spectacle of some distant ships, which were either curiously distorted, or inverted in the air, by means of this wonderful kind of refraction, he says, “When looking through the telescope, the coasts of ice, or rock, had often the appearance of the remains of an ancient city, abounding with the ruins of castles, churches, and monuments, with other large and conspicuous buildings. The hills often appear to be surmounted with turrets, battlements, spires, and pinnacles, while others, subjected to another kind of refraction, seem to be large masses of rock, suspended in the air, at a considerable elevation above the actual terminations of the mountains to which they refer. The whole exhibition is a grand and majestic phantasmagoria; scarcely is the appearance of any object fully examined and determined, before it changes to something else; it is perhaps alternately a castle, a cathedral, or an obelisk,--and then expanding and coalescing with the adjoining mountains, it unites the intermediate vallies, though they may be miles in width, by a bridge of a single arch, of the most magnificent appearance.”

_29th._--We have been visiting Franklin’s farm to-day, and have had a very pleasant walk, late as it is in the year. He is so diligent, that he has done a great deal to it since we were last there. Between it and the next land he has made a ditch, with a high firm fence of flat stones placed edgeways, in three rows, each row sloping a little, and all supported by a bank of earth behind them; between the two upper rows of stones, he has planted quick-thorns, and on the top of the bank a few young oak and elm trees. The deep ditch will serve to carry off the water from some drains that are to be made in a part of the ground which is wet and marshy. These drains are to be covered with earth; and something must be done to keep them from filling up. Some people line them with stone, but that is too expensive; and as he has just clipped some of his hedges, he intends, I believe, to put the branches of the thorn-bushes into the bottom of the drains, which will also prevent the sides from falling in.

Springs are formed in the bosom of the earth, my uncle says, by the rain water which sinks through the surface, and which, gently oozing, or _percolating_, as he calls it, through the sand or gravel, or through other porous strata, continues to descend till it is intercepted by some bed of clay or rock. No longer being able to descend, it follows the course of this impassable bed, and if thus conducted to the outside of the ground, lower down the hill, it forms then a spring. But if prevented by any obstacle from flowing freely out of the ground, it diffuses itself under the surface, and produces swamps and marshes. My uncle has been of great use to Franklin, not only by teaching him how to discover from the form of the ground where it is most likely to meet with and _tap_ these concealed springs, but by laying out the drains for him with a levelling instrument, so that they should have sufficient fall into the main ditch, or into a little rivulet which skirts his farm. I could not have conceived that science might be made so useful even in common agriculture.

Franklin is also ploughing a field for wheat--and is going afterwards to plough up another field that looks all rough and ugly--but which is to be left unsown the whole winter; he intends to plough it two or three times, and then in Spring, after it has lain fallow in this way, he will sow it with barley. Another grand operation is the preparing a piece of ground for an orchard; my uncle has promised him some nice young fruit-trees for it; and Franklin, very prudently, brought over some American apple-trees, which he says are very productive.

The blind basket-maker sometimes walks to the farm with the assistance of Bessy’s arm; and it is impossible to see the happiness of the whole family without feeling the strongest interest in their welfare. She now looks quite blooming and healthy; and she is so industrious that besides her in-door occupations, she has persuaded her husband to give her an acre of ground for flax, with which she hopes to do a great deal. This will be a very uncommon crop in this country, but I am sure, from what my uncle says, that it will be very profitable.

_30th._, _Sunday._--We had a conversation this morning on the character of Joseph, which my uncle thinks a fine example of all the Christian virtues. “If we follow him,” said my uncle, “from his youth to the height of his preferment, we see him, in every part of his life, virtuous and religious; patient and courageous under misfortune; modest and temperate in the greatest success. He suffered injustice from his master who imprisoned him, though he had been just and faithful; but under this great trial he had the comfort of knowing that he was innocent. He had the still greater comfort of confiding in the support of God, who, in his own good time, delivered him from prison, and permitted him to be raised to a high situation, where his integrity might be made manifest. Then, if we consider his generous forbearance towards his brethren, how highly does it raise our admiration of his truly amiable disposition! When they were in his power--in just resentment of their former cruelty, he thought it right to mortify and humble them--but no sooner did he see that they were penitent, than his anger ceased.--And when he discovered himself to them, with what kindness and magnanimity he endeavoured to make them less dissatisfied with their former conduct!

“‘Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life: to preserve you a posterity in the earth. So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God.’

“Can any thing be more touching,” added my uncle, “than his generous anxiety to make his brethren forgive themselves, by shewing the advantages that were ultimately produced by their conduct to him?”

“There is one thing,” said Wentworth, “that I do not understand--why does Joseph say there shall be neither earing nor harvest, as if he meant two separate things?”

“The word _earing_,” replied my uncle, “sounds as if it meant gathering ripe ears of corn: but it is an old English term for ploughing, and is used in that sense in two other parts of scripture.”

“I had imagined,” said Caroline, “that earing was mentioned in that particular manner, in allusion to some blight, through which the corn should no longer give such an astonishing produce as seven ears to one stalk.”

“No;” said my uncle, “nor was that an unusual produce. A species of wheat still grows in Egypt, which generally bears this number of ears, and the stem is solid, that is, full of pith, in order to support so great a weight. The stem of our own wheat is, you know, a mere hollow straw. You see how necessary it is, my dear children, when you do not perfectly understand what you read or hear, to have courage enough to confess your ignorance, and to ask for explanation.

“Before we finish the subject of Joseph,” he continued, “I will explain another small circumstance, of which perhaps Bertha at least may not be aware. The ancient manner of eating was for each person to have one or more dishes to himself; they were all first set before the master of the feast, who distributed to every one his portion; and as a mark of affection for Benjamin, Joseph sent him five dishes, while he only sent one to each of the others. In Persia and Arabia, every dish that is set before the master of the house is divided into as many portions as there are guests, but those of the greatest rank have by far the largest shares.”

_31st._--Mr. R----, a friend of my uncle’s, has been here for a few days, and has amused us very much.

Yesterday he shewed us a Proteus kind of substance; it had at first a milky transparency, and reflected a bluish white light, but when we looked through it, it was yellow. He slightly wetted it, and then it lost all transparency, appearing like chalk. He immersed it completely in water, and the edges became more transparent than before, and at the same time a little gas seemed to escape from it. A small white ball appeared in the centre, but it gradually diminished in size, and the transparency extended through the whole mass.

He afterwards put some of this substance into oils of different colours--the colours it quickly acquired--and when it had completely absorbed the oil it became transparent, but when partially it was opaque. When steeped in oil, coloured with alkanet-root, it had quite the tints of the ruby; from a preparation of copper it imbibed the colour of the emerald; and from some acid exactly that of a Brazilian topaz. He then shewed us that all these brilliant colours could be discharged along with the oil, by exposing the substance to a strong heat.

Fortunately for us, when Mr. R. called here he was on his way home from London, where he had provided himself with these curiosities, and he was so good-natured as to unpack some of his treasures for our gratification.

I was much surprised at these cameleon-like changes; and at last I learned that this substance is the _tabasheer_, of which I had read something before. It is found in the cavities of the bamboo; while the plants are young, it is fluid, but as they advance in size it hardens. Mr. R. shewed us three specimens; the first was almost transparent, and so tender, that in carelessly taking it up, I crushed it. He was so kind as to say it did not signify, as he had some more; but I determined in future to see without the help of my fingers, as you have often advised me, dear mamma. The second piece was harder and more opaque, having only a little transparency at the edges. The third specimen was perfectly opaque, and looked like a bit of stucco; it was on this piece that he shewed us the curious experiments I have mentioned.

Mr. R. endeavoured to make us comprehend the causes of all those changes which have appeared so contradictory. “In the first place,” said he, “tabasheer is a remarkably porous substance; now if one of the pores be filled with air, a ray of light in passing through it suffers very little refraction, and is therefore so little scattered, that the tabasheer appears transparent, and objects can be partly seen through it. This arises from the small difference between the refractive power of air and of tabasheer. Next,” said he, “suppose a very small quantity of water introduced into this pore, so as not to fill it, but merely to line it with a film; then the light, in passing through the tabasheer, the film of water, the air within, the film again, and lastly the tabasheer, is so much scattered by these six refractions, that the substance appears opaque. But when by complete immersion the pores are filled with water, the multiplied refractions caused by the films and the portions of air within, cease, and the light is more freely transmitted.”

My uncle and Mr. R. talked a long time on the subject, and tried several other experiments, explaining to us the reasons for each step they took; but I have said enough to shew you that I endeavoured to understand what they were doing, and this I am sure will give you pleasure. Indeed the advantages of being able to comprehend something of the conversation of such people is so great, that I cannot sufficiently thank you for having given me a little taste for science. You used to say that there was great danger of making girls conceited by giving them a smattering of science; but I assure you that I shall keep a careful watch over myself in that respect; the little knowledge I have is only a peep-hole through which I see the boundless stores that I can never hope to possess--and surely this can only make me more humble.

_Nov. 1st._--I had not time yesterday to say any thing of the plant which produces the tabasheer; and perhaps Marianne might like to have the particulars that we were told.

It is the bamboo-cane, which is of the same natural order as the grasses; it grows in both hemispheres, almost anywhere within the tropics, and very abundantly in the East Indies. The main roots are thick and jointed, and from these joints spring several stems, which are sometimes eighteen inches in circumference at the bottom. These stems or culms are round, hollow, and shining; they grow quite straight, and often to the height of sixty feet; and they are articulated, or knotted; the knots being about a foot apart, and each armed with one or two sharp spines. The leaves are narrow, eight or nine inches long, and supported on short foot stalks; and the flowers grow in large panicles, three or four together, from the joints of the stem.

The stalks of the bamboo, while young, are filled with a spongy substance which contains a sweetish milky juice; but they become hollow as they grow old, except at the joints, where they are crossed by a woody membrane--such as I believe there is in the knots of all culms. Upon that membrane the liquor rests, and concretes into the substance called tabasheer, or sugar of Mombu--which was held in such esteem by the ancients, that it was valued at its weight in silver. It had long been used as a medicine all over the east, but was first made known in Europe by Dr. Russell in 1790.

The young shoots are dark green; and, while tender, make a good pickle; but the old stalks are of a shining yellow colour, and prodigiously hard and durable: they are used in buildings, in all the farming tools, and in all sorts of household furniture. By piercing the joints they are often converted into water-pipes, and they make excellent poles by which the porters carry casks, bales, and palanquins. In the island of Java, a sort of palanquin is formed of bamboos, resembling a small house in shape, and called a dooly. In short there are few plants which have such a variety of uses.

_2nd._--This last summer is said by every one to have been remarkable for the quantity of seed produced by almost all plants; and acorns were particularly plentiful. Some were gathered for the purpose of sowing; but an immense number remained under the oak trees in the lawn, till within these few days, when they all disappeared, and what fell from the trees in the course of one day, had vanished before the next. After much puzzling about what could have become of them, Wentworth discovered that the sheep eat them; he caught them in the act to-day. He also observed that chaffinches and other birds eat beech-masts--but I do not wonder at that, for I think them excellent; and my aunt tells me that on some parts of the continent they are very much used as food by the poor inhabitants. The oil which is previously expressed from them is of the finest quality; and in Alsace, as well as all along the borders of France and Germany, the peasants make a sort of cake with the remainder.

I saw the jay to-day for the first time; Mary shewed me several of these pretty birds under a hedge. We watched them for some time, and I actually saw one raise and depress the bunch of black and white feathers on his forehead repeatedly; the wing coverts are beautiful. Jays are very affectionate to their young, who remain with their parents during all the autumn and winter months, instead of separating early, as most birds do. In winter they are to be seen continually under high hedges, or on the sunny side of woods and copses, seeking for acorns, crab-apples, or for the grubs and worms to be found in fields where cows have pastured. They are timid and watchful, and feed in silence; but timid as they are, they are very destructive in summer to the gardens.

The Lumleys, you know, live in a very sequestered part of the forest, and the jays seem to have established themselves in that undisturbed spot. Miss Lumley told me that they make great havoc among the beans in June; and though in general cautious and wary, at that season their boldness is quite remarkable, and nothing seems to intimidate them. She has frequently seen one of the parent birds descend from a tree into the bean rows--they soon announce their discovery by a low but particular scream, and then all the family hastened to join in the plunder.

Their throat is so wide that they can swallow beans, acorns, and even chesnuts whole; and it is said they can imitate various sounds, such as the bleating of a lamb, the hooting of an owl, the mewing of a cat, and even the neighing of a horse.

They appear to be fond of each other, but to other birds they are very troublesome, destroying their nests and eggs, and sometimes pouncing on the young ones, to the great vexation of the Lumleys.

_4th._--Those poor travellers, whom more than a month ago I told you that good Mrs. Ando had so generously taken into her own house, have been obliged to continue there ever since; and my aunt has two or three times driven to Newnham to visit them. They have, you know, one little child, but the man seems to be dying, and his wife, a foreigner, nurses him with the most tender care. They have told their history to my aunt, and she has given me leave to relate it to you.

The young woman is a Swiss, her name is Madeleine, and her father was a merchant of Geneva, where they lived in comfortable affluence till his wife died. His affliction on this occasion was so violent that he resolved to quit Geneva for ever, and remove to a city in the south of France, where he might continue his business; but Madeleine was tired of a town life, and persuaded her father to give up commerce and retire to a little property he possessed in the district of Beaufort, in Savoy. She had formed delightful pictures in her imagination of the occupations of the farm, the vineyard, and the dairy, and she longed to realise them.

Her indulgent father yielded to her wishes, and they removed from all the comforts of Geneva to that remote and mountainous district. When they arrived, and that she saw the change which she had persuaded her father to make, she felt severe regret for having interfered; and would then have persuaded him to return, but he had arranged every thing for his residence in Savoy--he had made his decision, and he would not let it be again shaken.

His activity in a short time made the house comfortable, and he employed his time and his money in forming a garden and an extensive vineyard. The industry which he had devoted to trade, he now directed to the cultivation of the vine, and his unwearied assiduity was rewarded in a few years by a profusion of grapes, of which he made excellent wine. Every thing seemed to prosper, and Madeleine dearly loved a place where they had conquered so many difficulties, and where they had seen comfort and plenty rise out of a bare and rocky valley; a place which, with their endeavours to shelter and beautify it, and with the ornament of a remarkable group of fine old walnut trees on the hill behind the house, was now quite picturesque. The poor around them had also reason to like the change, for many a distressed family were now employed, and many an ignorant child was taught as well as clothed by Madeleine. But her father had laid out all his ready money on the vineyard and on a large stock of cattle; so that every thing depended on the success of his plans.

According to the custom of the country, their cattle were sent every summer with those of the neighbours, to the fresh air and sweet pasture of the mountains. They were all intrusted to the care of one person, who during the season lived on the top of the mountain, in a little wooden hut, called a _chalet_. There the milk of the cattle was collected; and in eight days after the cows had been driven up to the common pasture, the owners assembled, and the quantity of milk from each cow was weighed. The same thing was repeated once in the middle of summer; and at the end of the season the whole quantity of cheese and butter was divided in due proportion. The cattle were then driven back to the vallies, when there was a general festival, in which the whole _commune_ joined. All the young people used to assemble at the chalet on this occasion in their holiday dresses, decorated with Alpine flowers; and with all the gaiety of youth, and with songs and dances, they attended the descent of their herds, which were also decked with ribbons, and bells, and garlands. At intervals the party sung together the touching song of the _Ranz des vaches_, or some of the pretty Savoyard airs.

On the morning of one of these festivals a traveller, who had missed his way in crossing the mountain, happened to apply at the chalet for assistance. The youthful crowd were actually setting out--the song which announced the general movement had already commenced--when seeing that the traveller was faint and in want of assistance, they stopped and hastened to relieve him. They gave him such refreshment as they could, and, unmindful of their own interrupted pleasures, they delayed their march to give him time to recover. When he was sufficiently revived by their hospitality, he accompanied the gay party to the village; and, charmed by their simple manners, he joined as well as he could in their happy and innocent festivity.

The traveller was an English officer, who had been wounded. He was then enjoying the bracing air and wild scenery of Savoy; and though he intended to winter in Italy, he wished to loiter a little longer among the glens and mountains of this picturesque country. Madeleine’s father was interested by his appearance of ill health, and pleased by the manner in which he expressed his gratitude for the kindness he had received, and therefore invited him, whenever his wanderings should lead him that way, to take up his quarters at Beaufort. He came more than once in the course of the autumn, and was always welcomed with warmth and hospitality by the good old Swiss and Madeleine.

At length he bade them adieu, and pursued his way to Italy, leaving them in happiness and prosperity. At the end of two years he again returned, and found them sunk into poverty and misery. The overflowing of the Doron, early in spring, had caused universal destruction in the valley: houses, gardens, and vineyards were swept away, and even the cattle, which were to have gone in a few weeks to the hills, were included in the general ruin. All was gone--a few hours had reduced these amiable people from affluence to absolute want. He who had been master there--whose active head and industrious hands had planned so well and executed so much, was now the passive object of his daughter’s cares. The shock had irreparably injured his mind, for he had spent his whole fortune in making this place for her, and he had now the melancholy consciousness that both were beggars. But Madeleine’s energy rose above misfortune. She turned her whole thoughts to the comforts of her father and the means of procuring them; and she earnestly prayed for the blessing of Heaven on her exertions.

As soon as they were settled in a very small cottage in the neighbourhood, she determined again to try the cultivation of the vine--but considerably higher on the side of the hill--so as to be secure from a second inundation. She intended to have laboured at this new plantation herself, with the assistance of one old and attached servant, but numbers of people from the neighbouring villages, who loved her and were grateful to her, insisted on being allowed to help. It is a common custom in Switzerland to plant vines on very steep hills, with alternate rows of dry stone walls, to preserve the soil about the plants; and Madeleine resolved to accomplish such a vineyard. By the assistance of these good-natured people, a small plantation was made: while some were digging, others built the little walls; and Madeleine herself guided the donkies which were laden with earth to make a sufficient soil, or with her own hands disposed it round each vine plant, and dressed the whole.

Though the vineyard was small, she hoped to derive an additional benefit from it for her father, by planting a few useful vegetables, which might perhaps interest him in his favourite occupation of gardening. But when she tried to rouse his mind to this, he only wept at the loss of their former pretty garden, for which they had both done so much.

The group of walnut-trees still remained; and, fortunately, they bore remarkably well. The gathering of the fruit and the pressure of the oil is one of the most important occupations of the Savoyards, and Madeleine was again assisted by her kind neighbours. The walnut harvest commences about September; the fruit is beaten off the trees with long poles, and the green husks are taken off as soon as they begin to decay; the walnuts are then laid in a chamber to dry, where they remain till the end of Autumn, when the process of making the oil commences. The first operation is of course to take out the kernel, and for this the neighbouring peasantry collect. They are usually placed round a long table; a man at each end of it cracks the nuts with a mallet, by hitting them on the point; and as fast as they are cracked they are distributed to the persons round the table, who take out the kernels and remove the inner part. The Savoyards are so lively, that this employment is in general accompanied by songs and various amusements. The day that Bertram, their English friend, returned, Madeleine was thus occupied; while her poor old father, placed in a chair beside her, was gazing vacantly at what they were doing.

Though changed so much in circumstances, she did not appear dejected--she had not sunk into despair, and though her countenance, as he told my aunt, no longer expressed gaiety, yet even in her tears she had the smile of hope and cheerfulness. He had always esteemed her, and was now so charmed by her various merits, and so anxious to assist and protect her, that he persuaded her to accept his hand. He wrote to his father, who is a clergyman in Wales; he obtained his consent, and for a few years lived happily with Madeleine in her cottage, enjoying those pleasures that follow laborious industry, and taking part in all the tender cares she bestowed on her poor father. His half-pay added to their comforts, but still he was obliged to work--to labour sometimes for the pleasure of making Madeleine’s father comfortable at the close of his life, and he was rewarded by the success of their exertions.

But the severity of the climate in winter and his laborious life were too much for his constitution, which had never recovered the effect of his wounds. He felt that his strength was declining; and the poor old father having died, last spring, Bertram became anxious to return to his own country. They had no longer any tie to Savoy, and Madeleine willingly acquiesced in his wishes and sold her little property; yet it gave her many a pang to part for ever with the place where she had been so happy with her father--a place so endeared to her by years of cheerful industry, and by the sympathy and kindness she had received from all the inhabitants.

Unfortunately, Bertram became so much worse on his journey, that they were frequently obliged to rest, and by the time they arrived in Gloucestershire they found their expenses had been so great that they should not have sufficient means to accomplish the remainder of their journey. Thus stopped by want of money as well as by illness, poor Madeleine was looking for some humble lodging, when that kind-hearted creature Mrs. Ando, prevailed on them to come to her house. He has repeatedly written to request his father would come to him, but till last Monday he received no answer. It appears that the old gentleman had been also very ill, and all his letters remained unopened. He is now expected every day--and a sad meeting it will be, for my aunt fears that his son is too ill to recover.

Mrs. Ando sent a messenger yesterday to tell my aunt that her poor patient very much wished to see her again. She instantly went, and they had a long conversation on religious subjects, which gave her heartfelt pleasure, his sentiments were so pious. He spoke in the most affecting manner of Madeleine’s cheerful and tender care; and added that having been separated from his father when very young, he had become careless and indifferent about religion;--for a soldier’s life is rather unfavourable to religious improvement; but that his excellent wife had perceived this, and with prudent caution had gently led him to _think_; her good sense and admirable example awakened his mind, and while he taught her the English language, she taught him in return the principles, the humility, and the practice of Christianity.

Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts meantime Were interchanged, and hopes and views sublime. To her he came to die, and every day She took some portion of the dread away; With him she prayed, to him her Bible read, Soothed the faint heart, and held the aching head; She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer; Apart she sighed; alone, she shed the tear; Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.

_5th._--I was rather naughty yesterday, I did not walk out; and my uncle reproached me for it this morning. “If you shut yourself up every cold day, Bertha, you will never become more hardy than the stove plants from your own country, which would certainly be more ornamental, and more valuable, if they could be reconciled to our climate, and made to grow here in the open ground. And you, too, would be happier as well as stronger, if you were able to enjoy the out of door pleasures of winter as well as those of the fire-side.”

“Yes, uncle, I wish to do so, but I delayed till the day changed in hopes of having Caroline with me; the straight beech-walk is comfortably sheltered from the north-east wind, but then the high ditch prevents one from seeing any thing, and makes it a dull place without a companion.”

My uncle laughed at my wanting to have a view from my walk, and said, “Certainly it would have been pleasant to have had a companion; but for my own part, I often enjoy a solitary walk: it is, I think, a great advantage to accustom the mind to submit sometimes to solitude, and to look for pleasure from within. Suppose there be nothing to see, why should you be dull? Have you not memory and reflection for companions? Do not your various pursuits furnish you with matter for consideration? Study is absolutely useless, if you do not, by daily recalling what you have read, endeavour to class and arrange it in your mind; can you feel alone and dull when thus engaged, and is not that retired walk exactly suited for such employment? But, come with me, my dear,” he added, “and I will shew you sufficient to occupy both eyes and mind even in that dull place.”

A walk with my uncle is one of my greatest pleasures, dear mamma.--I was ready in a minute--and to the beech-walk we went; but it was no longer a dull walk; all he says is so delightful, and he listens so patiently to every question. After a few turns, in which I entirely forgot the North-east wind, he said, “There is no place, my little Bertha, that does not present some objects of interest to those who choose to open their eyes. For instance, even on this rough ditch, and on the old wall that joins it, you may see a curious variety of vegetation, which your finest embroidery cannot equal. Look at those mosses; they are among the meanest plants, yet there is not one that is not worth examining. The fructification is still to be seen on that tuft of _bearded thread moss_. Take your little magnifying glass and look at the cup which is so delicate, and yet so firm, its edge strengthened by that finely toothed ring, to which the slender conical lid is exactly fitted; its pointed top, you see, serves to attach that little shining scaly membrane, which is the principal defence of the flower and seed from the weather, and which is called the veil or _Calyptra_.

“Now, Bertha, look at this _silver thread moss_, here on the walk, with its diminutive leaves so closely pressed to the stem as to be hardly visible; it is now quite green, but in some weeks it will become of a shining silvery white, especially when dry; and this circumstance distinguishes it from all other mosses.”

I asked him the name of the moss that is so common on the roots of the trees, creeping through the grass round them, and growing in tufts of long crowded shoots;--he told me that those long crowded shoots mark that species, and he shewed me the brown fibres by which they cling to the trees; and the leaves which grow in double rows, ending in little crooked hairs; he called it the _trailing feather moss_. He seemed to take as much pleasure in explaining a thousand things about them as I did in listening. How stupidly I had walked up and down there, and never cast my eyes on the beautiful structure of these little plants! We then examined several lichens, some in tufts hanging from the branches of trees and bushes, or encircling them with their crisp flat leaves; others covering the stems with an odd white crust; while on the damp earth beneath we found the _cup lichen_ in deep sea-green patches, displaying its tiny cups like fairy wine-glasses.

“On those stones,” said my uncle, “you may trace the beginning of all vegetation, from the little black spots, which are scarcely discernible, to the larger lichens and mosses of different forms and sizes. Or, let us turn to the grassy bank, and you may there see a great number of herbaceous plants still green, mixing with that useful grass, the creeping bent, which throws out fresh pasture at this late season from the joints of its runners or _stolones_.”

He shewed me many of these plants; and more than once said, “Everything here is interesting to persons of observation, and particularly so to those who know something of botany. But they are not merely for momentary examination--the variety and the design, to be found in each, supply ample subject of reflection.”

Just at that moment I heard a shrill cry, and I interrupted my uncle to ask what it was.

He told me that it was the alarm-cry of the fieldfare, and pointed to a large tree at the end of the walk, where a number of fieldfares and redwings, lately arrived from a colder climate, had collected.

“You see,” said my uncle, “that even without any fine picturesque view, you may have abundance of amusement here, not only in observing the growth of mosses and plants, but in watching the habits of birds. You may see the little woodpecker, and the still smaller creeper running nimbly up the stems of the trees, and pecking insects and their eggs out of the crevices of the bark; or the fauvette and the friendly robin waiting on every spray for a little notice; while in the thickets to the left you may see the missel thrush, and may sometimes distinguish its note, though it does not actually sing at this season.”

As my uncle said this, we approached the tree on which the fieldfares were perched: they seemed at first unmindful of us; but, as we came nearer, one bird which I had observed sitting alone at the very end of a branch, rose suddenly on its wings and gave a cry of alarm, which was the same I had heard before. The moment this happened, they all flew off together, except one, which remained there till we almost reached the tree, when it repeated the same cry and followed the rest.

My uncle told me that this is the constant habit of these birds; they arrive late in autumn, and always collect in a flock, placing one on the watch to give the alarm. When they spread over a field in search of food, they never separate much, and fly off in a body at the first notice of their sentinel. The redwing sings sweetly in its native country, Sweden, though here it makes only a piping noise. As we walked along, he told me that fieldfares were formerly kept in aviaries by the Romans, who fattened them on bread and minced figs; during which process very little light was admitted, and all objects were excluded from their sight, that could remind them of their former liberty. We watched these birds for a long time; and as we returned home my uncle said, “But in suggesting these subjects of observation, Bertha, I do not mean that you should always stand still in the cold to examine them; nor do I suppose that in one walk you could attend to such a variety of objects. I only want to shew you how much amusement a solitary winter’s walk, even along a _dull_ straight high ditch, can supply for both eyes and thoughts.

“Besides all these, you, my little botanist, might have another endless subject for examination in our deciduous trees, on many of which you will find that, unlike those of tropical climates, the young shoots, leaves and flowers are formed in autumn, and cradled up in scaly buds, where they are secure from frost, till the following spring.

“Indeed, the comparisons you must be naturally induced to make between your two countries, might supply you with amusing and useful occupation; and the result will be, that in each you will discover how peculiarly every creature and every vegetable is adapted to the country where it has been placed.”

_6th_, _Sunday._--I asked my uncle this morning, why Joseph said that every shepherd was an abomination to an Egyptian; and also, why Joseph expected, that when Pharaoh was informed that his father and brethren were shepherds, he would order them to dwell in the land of Goshen?

“In the first place,” said he, “it is supposed that Egypt had been invaded and subdued by a tribe of warlike shepherds from Arabia, called Cushites, or sons of Cush. They were also called the Pali, or shepherds; and their leaders called themselves the Shepherd-Kings. Six of these Shepherd-kings are said to have successively reigned in Egypt, till at length the native princes, weary of their tyranny, rebelled, and expelled them. They retired into the land of Canaan, and established themselves at Jerusalem, and in other strong situations in that country, which, from them, obtained the name of Palestine, or Palis-tan--the country of the Pali. These people afterwards became the Philistines, who were such troublesome neighbours to the Israelites.

“The memory of their tyranny was still fresh in the minds of the Egyptians, at the time that Joseph’s family removed to Egypt; and it was, therefore, natural that every shepherd should be an abomination to the Egyptians. Cush, you know, was the eldest son of Ham; the Egyptians were descended from Mizraim, the second son of Ham, and Egypt is to this day called Mizr, by the Arabs and Abyssinians.

“As to your second question,” continued my uncle, “in regard to their being ordered to dwell in the land of Goshen, it appears probable that there had been shepherds in those parts before; otherwise Joseph could scarcely have foreseen that that portion of the land would be given to his brethren. Besides which, Goshen being chiefly adapted to pasturage, which was so contrary to the taste of the Egyptians, this region most likely lay neglected. Hence we see why the Israelites found such easy access into the country, so as not only to be allowed to dwell in it, but to have the land of Goshen given them for a possession, even the best of the land of Egypt.”

“I wonder,” said Wentworth, “why the Israelites were sent by Providence into Egypt, as they were, after a time, to be placed in Canaan, the land of promise, and would, therefore, be again unsettled and obliged to remove.”

“It has been suggested,” said my uncle, “that the promise made to Abraham, to give to his posterity the land of Canaan, was not to be fulfilled, till this great family of Israel was strong enough to take that land by force from the inhabitants, and to keep possession of it. Besides, the Canaanites had not then completed the measure of their wickedness, which was to be punished by the loss of their country.

“In the meantime, though the Israelites were obliged to reside amongst idolaters, and were enjoined to preserve themselves unmixed; yet Egypt was the only place where they could for so long a time remain safe from being confounded with the natives. For the ancient Egyptians were, by numerous institutions, forbidden all fellowship with strangers; and having a particular aversion to the employment of the Israelites, they were, by that means, more completely separated. Besides, during their long residence of above 400 years in Egypt, the Israelites, who were but simple shepherds when they went there, had the advantage of acquiring a knowledge of the various arts in which the Egyptians excelled.

“The Bible here, as in many other cases, only records the facts: we cannot now penetrate, my dear boy, into the causes or motives which led to them; but we may be sure that what was dictated by Infinite Wisdom was just and proper; and in venturing to assign such reasons as we can infer from other circumstances in history, we should do so with great modesty and distrust of ourselves.”

_7th._--My uncle has been obliged to go to London about business; he left us this morning, but his stay will not be very long, I hope, for we shall miss him excessively, and the more so, as winter is completely begun. We have now dark days, with frequent rain and storms; few trees have even a withered leaf remaining, and every thing out of doors has a forlorn and desolate appearance.

But though the leaves are all gone, we have still a few flowers; the China rose is still in bloom, and in the sheltered warm borders, we find a few wall-flowers, some lilac primroses, and many Neapolitan violets, which are delightfully sweet.

_9th._--When we were walking this morning in the forest, Frederick made me take notice of a flock of crows, which were quite different in appearance from the common rook. The back is ash-coloured, while the head, throat, wings, and tail, are black. I was surprised at my own blindness in not having observed them before; but Frederick told me that they had only arrived lately, as they change their abode twice in the year. About the middle of autumn, they appear in the southern parts of England in flocks; and in the beginning of spring they depart in a northerly direction; though in some parts of Scotland and Ireland, they remain through the whole year. This species is still more familiar than the rook, and in winter will go even to the yards of houses to pick up food. It is called the hooded crow, or scare-crow. I heard it give two cries, one was the hollow hoarse note of the crow, but the other was shrill, and not very unlike the crowing of a cock. They are remarkable for this double cry.

Mr. Landt, in his description of the Feroe Islands, says that one or two hundred of these birds sometimes assemble, as if by general consent. A few of them sit with drooping heads, others seem as grave as if they were the judges, and others again very bustling and noisy. The meeting breaks up in about an hour, when one or two are generally found dead on the spot; and it has been supposed, by those who have observed them carefully, that they were criminals punished for their offences. Frederick says he has read that in the Orkneys, too, they meet in spring, as if to deliberate on concerns of importance; and after flying about in this collected state for eight or ten days, they separate into pairs, and retire to the mountains.

Along with those we saw several carrion crows with their glossy plumage of bluish black; they not only associate with rooks and other crows, but approach our dwellings and saunter among the flocks; and I really saw some hopping on the backs of pigs and sheep, with such apparent familiarity that one might have imagined they were domestic birds.

Towards the close of winter the hooded crow and the rook remove to other regions, but the carrion crows resort to the nearest woods, which they seem to divide into separate districts, one for each pair; and it is remarkable that they never intrude on each other’s portions.

Crows may well be called _omnivorous_ birds, for they eat every thing--flesh, eggs, worms, grain, fish, and fruit. Shell fish, it is said, they very ingeniously crack by dropping them from a great height on a stone. Many people have seen this; and the great Mr. Watt, whose observation was always alive, watched one of these sagacious crows taking up a crab into the air, which it repeatedly let fall on a rock, till the shell w?as completely broken. The same ingenuity has been observed in another species of the crow family, in North America: a blue jay, which had been tamed, finding the dried seeds of Indian corn too hard to break, placed one in the corner of a shelf in the green-house, between the wall and a plant box: having thus secured it on three sides, he easily contrived to break it; and, having once succeeded, he continued ever after to apply the same means.

_10th._--We have had a grand discussion in our walk this morning, on genius. Mary’s opinion is, that it never exists originally; and that wherever biography affords us the opportunity of learning the small circumstances of early life, we may observe that something had occurred to turn the attention, while young, to that pursuit, in which successful perseverance had been afterwards ascribed to genius. For instance, in the thirteenth century, some Greek painters being employed in the churches of Florence, the youthful Cimabue gazed for whole days in admiration of their work: he afterwards devoted himself to the art, and quickly surpassed his masters. Here, but for the circumstance of the Greek painters, his talent might have remained unknown even to himself.

“But,” said Caroline, “his own pupil, Giotto, may be opposed to your theory; you know he was a shepherd boy, whom Cimabue found accurately drawing the figures of his sheep on the sand.”

“I confess,” said Mary, “that does seem rather against me, but we do not know what previous opportunities he might have had. Canova’s genius, it is said, shewed itself in the obscurity of village life; yet we learn from his Memoirs that he lived with his grandfather, who, though only a common stone-cutter, was in the habit of designing and working architectural ornaments, and surely that accounts for the tendency of his pupil’s mind.”

“Very well,” replied Caroline, “I will leave you in possession of Canova, and only ask what you think of West--the great West? Belonging to the sect of Quakers, who disapprove of making any representation of the human form, and born in North America, where the arts were not at that time cultivated, he had never seen any sort of drawing; yet while he was a very little boy, being desired to watch a sleeping infant, he was so charmed with its little face and attitude, that he made an excellent sketch of it with a bit of half-burned wood. Was not that, Mary, from the impulse of genius?”

“I see,” said Wentworth, “that Mary does not think herself quite conquered; but as it is going to rain, suppose we adjourn the debate, as papa says, to another day. Caroline shall then have Bertha on her side; I will do my best for Mary, as a true knight is bound to assist the weak; and Frederick shall be the umpire, and adjudge the wreath of victory.”

We all agreed to this plan; and I am sure it will produce a great deal of amusement. My uncle and aunt approve of these good-humoured contests, in which we never lose our temper, and all gain information.

_11th._--Our _genius_ conversation of yesterday having been mentioned in the evening at tea, my aunt encouraged us to repeat our arguments, and to defend them by fresh examples; and my uncle so nicely threw himself, sometimes into one scale, and sometimes into the other, that both parties valued themselves on his support. I am rather in doubt which will amuse you most, the anecdotes of various people that he related, or some circumstances in Canova’s life that my aunt afterwards told us: I believe these interested me the most, so I shall begin with them.

“The beautiful country round Passagno, and the refreshing breezes from the Alps, made it a frequent summer residence for the Venetian nobility. Old Pasino Canova, who lived there, was often employed in the repairs or embellishments of their villas, and on these occasions he was accompanied by his grandson. Young Canova thus became known to the senator Falier, who was afterwards his most zealous patron; and an intimacy was formed between him and Giuseppe Falier, the youngest son, which ceased only with Canova’s life.

“The ingenuous disposition of Canova, his animated countenance and his modesty, interested the elder Falier; and he took him, when about twelve years old, under his immediate protection. But it was by a mere accident that his talents were first noticed. At a festival celebrated at the villa of Falier, and attended by many of the Venetian nobility, the domestics had neglected to provide an ornament for the dessert. The omission was not discovered till it was too late; and, fearing the displeasure of their master, they applied to Pasino, who, with his grandson, was then at work in the house.

“The old man could suggest no remedy; but young Antonio desired to have some butter, and in a few moments he modelled a lion, with such skill and effect, that, when it appeared at table, it excited the attention and applause of all present. The servants were questioned--the whole was disclosed, and little Tonin declared to be the contriver. He was immediately called for; and blushing and half reluctant, was led into the brilliant assembly, where he received universal praise and caresses.”

“There is a circumstance strikingly similar to this,” continued my aunt, “which is told of our celebrated sculptor Chantrey, and of which I believe there is no doubt, as I was told it by a person to whom Chantrey, with noble candour, had himself communicated it. When quite a boy, not more than nine or ten, he used frequently to visit his aunt, who was housekeeper to a lady of fortune in Derbyshire. During one of these visits, it was observed that the flowers and ornaments of the pastry at table were executed with particularly good taste; and the housekeeper acknowledged that she had allowed her little nephew to amuse himself in making whatever ornaments he fancied. The lady determined on giving him other opportunities of trying his talents, and finding how very superior they were, she actually sent him to London to receive instruction. With what delight this benevolent and judicious woman must now behold the works of this great artist; and how much she must enjoy the fame which he has so justly acquired!

“The progress which Canova made, and the perfection even of his earliest works, is known to all the world; but perhaps you may not have heard that during his whole life, both while suffering opposition from envious artists, who threw every obstacle in his way, and afterwards when he had attained the highest success, he preserved his unpretending modesty and simplicity. He neither yielded to occasional disappointment, nor to the vanity of shewing that he could surpass his rivals. Improvement was the one great object which he unremittingly pursued, and all his ideas were subjected to rigid examination; he compared them first with nature, and he then flew to the Vatican, where he compared them with the antique.--The result always calmed his solicitude; he returned with fresh confidence to his _studio_, and in solitude laboured to perfect his style, without either boasting to his friends, or triumphing over his opponents.

“This modest reserve always marked his conduct. To the observations of friends, whether of approbation or criticism, he seldom replied. ‘To praise,’ he used to say, ‘what can I answer?--to the censures of well-wishers I must listen in silence; for if wrong, their feelings would be hurt by telling them so, and if correct, I endeavour to profit by their remarks,’ But it frequently occurred that he reminded his friends of their former criticisms, and candidly pointed out the consequent correction.

“His high talents were combined with the most amiable disposition, and a most grateful heart. His good old grandmother lived to see the success and the excellence of the object of her care; and Canova, who cherished every affectionate feeling, enjoyed that first of pleasures--the repaying former benefits. After the death of his grandfather he brought her to reside with him at Rome, and his friends still remember his tender anxiety to make the close of her life happy.

“Canova sculptured the bust of his grandmother, in the dress of her native province, which was the same as that of Titian’s mother; and this bust he kept in his own apartment.--Pointing it out one day to a visiter, he said, with much emotion, ‘That is a piece which I greatly value;--it is the likeness of her to whom I owe as much as it is possible for one human being to owe to another;’ adding, ‘you see she is dressed nearly as Titian’s mother; but unless affection renders me a partial judge, my grandmother is much the finer old woman.’”

_12th._--Mary has a most enviable memory; she has just been entertaining me with what she read in Waddington’s travels in Dongola.

She says, the houses there are either a sort of mud fortresses intended for defence, or else low cottages of straw and branches, tied together with bands, and supported at each corner by the dry stem of a palm, to which the walls are united.

The vale of Farjas is described as a most romantic little spot; a green and cultivated valley not two hundred yards broad, closely shut in between a range of high granite rocks, and a narrow branch of the Nile; and flourishing in freshness and fertility, in the middle of the wildest waste. The simple inhabitants offered a great many little civilities to Mr. W. and his companions.

She mentioned also two very curious passes through the hills; one called the “Pass of the Water’s Mouth,” near the entrance of which are two immense stones, as regular as if formed and placed there by art; and the other a winding pass amongst high rocks, that required an hour and forty minutes to travel through it; it is oddly called “The Father of the Acacias,” though from beginning to end it contains not one symptom of vegetation.

But I can write no more now, for my aunt has sent for me to walk with her, if I am so inclined--and that indeed I am.

_13th_, _Sunday._--The conversation, at breakfast this morning, having turned on the history of Moses, my aunt observed, that the entire account of his life is told in the most plain and artless manner, unmixed with any circumstances likely to exalt his personal character, and is throughout distinguished by that candour and impartiality, with which Moses always speaks of himself.

I asked her, how soon after the death of Joseph, the destruction of the first-born of the Israelites was decreed by Pharaoh.

“There is reason to think,” said my aunt, “that it was about sixty-four years after the death of Joseph; probably soon after the birth of Aaron, who had not been subject to this decree; and about one hundred and thirty-three years after their settlement in Egypt.

“You are of course aware, Bertha,” continued she, “that Pharaoh was the title of all the Egyptian sovereigns at that ancient period; the Pharaoh who had favoured Joseph was dead, and his successors were ill-disposed towards the Israelites, who had increased so much, that the Egyptian kings began to fear them, for they still recollected the thraldom in which they had for a long time been held by the Cushite or Shepherd invaders. And besides, Egypt was still subject to incursions from the Arabians, on that very side where the Israelites dwelled; which accounts at once both for their jealousy of the Israelites, who had the power of betraying them, by admitting the invaders, and also for the fear expressed by Pharaoh, lest they should ‘get them up out of the land;’ because, as long as they were in Goshen, they were, if faithful, a sort of defence to his kingdom, by being thus situated on its frontiers.

“But to return to the history of Moses--the ark of rushes which his mother ‘took for him,’ was a little vessel or basket, made of reeds, and daubed with slime or pitch, to keep out the water; it was probably of the form of one of those boats, with which the river was always covered, and made, like them, of ‘bulrushes,’ by which is meant the papyrus of which the Egyptians made their paper, and which grew in abundance on the banks of the Nile. This papyrus was strong enough to resist the water, and well adapted by its lightness to swim with a child’s weight. The vessels of bulrushes mentioned in both sacred and profane history were made in the same manner on a larger scale. Bruce, the traveller, saw them in common use in Abyssinia; and even at this day they are to be seen on the Nile; though the introduction of plank and stronger materials has caused them to be laid aside in a great degree.

“It was customary for the Egyptian females to express their veneration for the Nile, by plunging into it, when it began to overflow the country; and it is probable, that when the daughter of Pharaoh bathed, it was in compliance with some such custom. Modern travellers tell us, that a ceremony is still observed by the Egyptian females, of going to solemnize with songs, and dance, and bathing, the first visible rise of the Nile.

“Observe here, my dear children,” continued my aunt, “the chain of small circumstances by which God leads mankind to the accomplishment of his high decrees. When the daughter of Pharaoh goes to celebrate a heathen ceremony--when she finds the babe, and calls the Hebrew woman to be his nurse, and when that nurse turns out to be his own mother--what a singular concurrence of events, simple and obvious in themselves, but wonderful in their combinations!

“Josephus, the Jewish historian, states that Pharaoh’s daughter was married but had no children, and therefore adopted Moses, and gave him a princely education; that he became a man of eminence amongst the Egyptians, was made a general and leader of their armies, and fought some battles with success. While he was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, he was taught at home a knowledge of God; his father Amram imparted to him the promised redemption of Israel, and his mother fixed the true faith in his heart; so that it became the guide and the principle of all his actions.

“The land of Midian, to which Moses fled when he killed the Egyptian in defence of the ill-treated Israelite, was a part of Arabia Petræa, where some of Abraham’s posterity were settled; it lay upon the further side of the Red Sea, to the east of the wilderness of Sin. During his long absence from Egypt, Moses never forgot that he was separated from his family and his nation; and to mark his feelings he called his son Gershom, a desolate stranger. While he was thus an exile, he was trained in the school of adversity; his faith was strengthened, so that it prepared him for the arduous mission which he was born to undertake; and he became ‘meek above all the men which were on the face of the earth.’ No man, indeed, had greater trials--but about them and the important part he afterwards performed, I will take some other opportunity of conversing with you.”

_14th._--I had so many questions to ask about papyrus, that I thought it better not to interrupt my aunt yesterday, when Moses was more particularly the subject of our conversation. This morning, however, I begged of her to tell me some particulars about the paper made from that plant, and I will now put down here the substance of what she told me.

“The _papyrus_, or Egyptian reed, as it is called, grows in the marshy ground, caused by the overflowing of the Nile, and rises to the height of six or seven cubits above the water. The stalk is triangular, and terminates in a crown of small filaments, resembling hair, which the ancients used to compare to a _thyrsus_.--It was very useful to the inhabitants of the country where it grew, for the stem not only served for building small boats, but was likewise used for making cups and other utensils. The pith of the plant was eaten as food, and the root, being full of a sweet juice, was frequently chewed.

“But the manufacture of paper was the most important of all its uses; for I need not tell you, Bertha, that before mankind had some means of noting events, the recollection of them was either lost, or became so mixed with error, in being preserved by mere oral tradition, that we have no records of the ancient transactions of the inhabitants of the globe; except those contained in the Bible, which were, you know, written by Moses retrospectively. Before the invention of letters, mankind may be said to have been perpetually in their infancy, as the arts of one age or country generally died with their inventors.

“When the outer skin or bark of the stem of the papyrus,” continued my aunt, “was taken off, several slender films or pellicles were found one within the other. These pellicles were carefully separated with a pointed instrument, and spread on a table so that the thickest parts were all ranged together. On these, another layer of pellicles was then transversely placed in a similar manner, and moistened with Nile water; the whole was heavily pressed, and when dried in the sun, formed a smooth substance well fitted for writing upon with pens made of hollow reeds, through which a coloured liquid was allowed to flow. The saccharine juice in the bark helped to make the adhesion perfect, but sometimes a thin coat of gum was laid upon the first layer. Thus large sheets were prepared for writing, and when formed into books, the boards or covers, we learn from some of the early Greek writers, were made from the woody parts of the same plant.

“The Egyptian name of this plant is _Babr_, from whence both _papyrus_ and our word _paper_, seem to have been derived. The bark of a species of mulberry tree was afterwards used for paper; and _liber_, which properly meant the bark of a tree, was, therefore, applied to signify a book.”

Caroline, whose memory always serves her at the right moment, immediately repeated these lines,--

Papyrus, verdant on the banks of Nile, Spread its thin leaf, and waved its silvery style; Its plastic pellicles Invention took, To form the polished page and lettered book; And on its folds, with skill consummate taught To paint, in mystic colors, sound and thought.

My aunt smiled, and then added: “To form those little bulrush vessels that are alluded to in the Bible and elsewhere, the papyrus was made up in bundles, and by tying these bundles together, and placing a piece of timber at the bottom to serve as a keel, they gave their vessels the necessary shape. Several ancient writers describe them; Lucan speaks of the Memphian or Egyptian boat, made of the _thirsty_ papyrus; which corresponds exactly with the nature of the plant, as well as with its Hebrew name, which signifies, to drink or soak up.

“This plant requires so much water that it perishes when the river on whose banks it grows is much reduced; and it is for that reason that Job mentions it as the image of transient prosperity.”

_15th._--My uncle has returned, to the joy of the whole family; he looks a little tired, but seems rejoiced to be at home. He has seen numbers of curious things, and has already told us some of them.

One thing that he mentioned was very interesting to me; he met a gentleman who had lately arrived from our southern regions, and who had seen that wonderful luminous creature of those seas which I mentioned to you in my journal when on board the Phaeton. According to this gentleman’s account, each of these brilliant animals diffused a sphere of light of eighteen inches in diameter; “Think then,” said he to my uncle, “what the effect must be on the spectator, when the sea is absolutely full of them as far as the eye can reach, and to many yards in depth. One evening, in particular, from seven to eleven o’clock, the ship sailed upwards of twenty miles through these living lamps; and the strong light they gave enabled him to distinguish many fishes, even ten or twelve feet beneath the surface of the water, that appeared to be accompanying the ship.”

My uncle then gave us a very entertaining account of an experiment he witnessed on the common house-spider, which proves that it possesses a natural diving-bell, to assist it in crossing water. The spider was placed on a small platform in the middle of a large tumbler full of water, the platform being about half an inch above the edge of the glass, and two inches above the water. It first descended by the stick that supported the platform, till it reached the water, but finding no way to escape, it returned to the platform, and for some time employed itself in preparing a web, with which, by means of its hinder legs, it loosely enveloped its body and head. It again descended, and without hesitation plunged into the water, when my uncle observed, that the web with which it was covered contained a bubble of air, probably intended for respiration. The spider, wrapped up in this little diving-bell, endeavoured on every side to make its escape; but in vain, on account of the slipperiness of the glass; and after remaining at the bottom for about thirteen minutes, it returned, apparently much exhausted, as it coiled itself closely under the platform, and remained there for some time without motion.

Another beautiful thing that my uncle was shewn by Dr. W., was a veil woven by caterpillars--actually a gossamer veil. The ingenious person, a German I believe, who had managed those little manufacturers, spread them over a large glass, and contrived to place them so that the work of each was connected with that of its neighbour. As he could direct or change their progress at pleasure, he was not only able to form the veil of a tolerably regular shape, but by sometimes inducing them to go two or three times over the same spot, to give it the appearance of flowered lace. The whole veil, though of a large size, weighed only three grains and a half; and a breath blew it up into the air, where it floated like a cloud.

_16th._--When my uncle was in town, he was present at the opening and examination of an Egyptian mummy, along with several members of the Royal Society. Some mummies, he says, have two cases; in these, the outer one is ornamented with stripes of painted linen, and the inner case is covered with a kind of paper on which figures and hieroglyphics are painted with great brilliancy of colour.

The one which he saw had but a single case, which appeared to be made of sycamore-wood, two inches in thickness; the back and the front being fastened together by pegs. The case is made to stand upright, and is covered, inside and out, with a kind of shell or coat of plaster, to a considerable thickness. This coat is painted outside with hieroglyphics in horizontal lines on a deep orange ground; and the whole is highly varnished. The internal surface is likewise divided into broad stripes, alternately white and yellow; and on both are inscribed hieroglyphics and other characters about an inch long, probably consisting of prayers or invocations for the dead, or perhaps of some biographical notice.

My uncle told us that the embalmed body was most carefully secured from the air, by a covering of cerecloth, and by bandages that were applied with a neatness and precision that would have done honour to the most skilful surgeon of modern times. Of the many species of bandages which are employed in surgery, there is not one that did not appear to have been used; and they were so many times repeated, that after their removal, they were found to weigh twenty-eight pounds. Each limb, nay, each finger and toe had a separate one; and over all, another of great length, which, though without stitch or seam, after making a few turns round both feet, ascended spirally to the head, from whence it returned as far as the breast, and terminated there in loose threads like a fringe. In unravelling all these bandages, my uncle and everybody were struck with the judicious selection of their size and form, so as to adapt them to the different parts, and to give the whole a smooth surface, without a wrinkle.

They appeared to be made of a strong compact kind of linen, and were all of a dark brown colour, the result probably of some vegetable solution that contained a large proportion of the _tannin_ principle. Many of them were daubed with wax and some resinous or bituminous substance; and some little crystals were found, from which a chemist who was present seemed to think that lime had been used in preparing the skin.

The circumstance that most astonished my uncle was that some of the sinews were still elastic and flexible, and that the joints moved as easily as in a living body. My aunt and he afterwards had a long conversation on the origin of the ancient Egyptians; the principal circumstance that I picked up was that the celebrated Cuvier has examined the skulls of above fifty mummies, and that, in his opinion, they have the same characters as those of the Armenians, Georgians, and Europeans; or, to use his expression, that the common origin of them all was Caucasian. The skull of that which my uncle saw leads to the same conclusion, and differed essentially from the form of the negro head. It is a curious fact, which he says has been noticed by more than one traveller, that whole families are still to be found in Upper Egypt, in whom the general character of the head and face strongly resembles that of the mummies discovered in Thebes, as well as the figures represented in the ancient monuments of that country.

_17th._--A friend of my uncle’s, Colonel Travers, who has lately returned from India, where he served for many years, arrived here yesterday. He has been in various parts of the East, and is so entertaining, that I am sure I shall forget to note down half the curious things which I have heard him mention.

The conversation turned on bees, and he told us that in Mysore, where he was for a long time stationed, he saw four different kinds. That which makes the finest honey is a beautiful little bee of very small size, and which does not sting. It is called the _cadi_. It forms its combs round the branches of trees; the honey is excellent, and can be procured with very little trouble, as the bees are easily driven off with a switch. But the bee from which the greatest quantity of honey is procured is large and fierce, and builds under projecting ledges of rock, or in caverns. The honey is gathered twice a year, for which purpose the people kindle a fire at the foot of the rock, and throw into it the leaves of a species of _cassia_, which emit a smoke so acrid that nothing can endure it--even the bees are forced to retire. As soon as the smoke subsides, a man is quickly lowered by a rope from the top of the rock; he knocks off the nest, and is immediately drawn up again, for were he to make any delay the bees would return, and their stinging is so dreadful as to endanger life.

In a tour which Colonel Travers made through a part of Ceylon, he found a species of bees which might at first be mistaken for black flies. Their heads, compared with their bodies, are extremely large. The honey is very liquid, and has a disagreeable flavour. I asked him if he had ever seen the honey-bird or Indicator, when he was at the Cape?--he did see it,--and heard its shrill note of _cherr, cherr_, which announces the discovery of a bees’ nest. He followed this sagacious bird along with a party of bee-hunters, and it soon pointed out a bees’ nest, by redoubling the frequency of its cries, and by hovering over the place. Having taken most of the honey, they left only a small portion for their little guide, so that not having enough to satisfy him, he immediately flew off to find more. These birds construct very singular nests: they are composed of slender filaments of bark, woven together in the form of a bottle; the neck and opening hang downwards, and a string is loosely fastened across the opening, on which they perch.

Colonel Travers told us, that the skin of these birds is so extremely thick, that it can scarcely be pierced by a pin; and the bees therefore attack them by endeavouring to sting their eyes.

_18th._--Colonel Travers was describing to-day the areca or betel nut palm. The berry of this tree is, you know, constantly used by the Indians, who chew it both green and dry.

The preservation of the fruit during the rainy season, and the cutting it down when ripe, require much expertness and agility. He says, that from the middle of winter to the middle of spring, the leaves fall off: each leaf is attached to a broad leathern petiole or leaf-stalk; and these membranes, which are about three feet long, and half that breadth, are preserved for the rainy season as covers for the young bunches of fruit. This business is performed by a particular set of people; for the stem of the tree, which is about fifty feet high, straight, smooth, and without branches, like most of the palm tribe, is very difficult to ascend. Round his ancles, and under the soles of his feet, the climber fixes a rope; his feet, thus bound together, he places against the stem, and while he holds on steadily with his hands, he gently draws up his feet. He thus moves one hand forward and then the other hand, and afterwards again draws up his feet. In this manner he slowly reaches the top of the tree, where he makes fast a rope, the end of it being tied to the middle of a short stick on which he seats himself and performs his work; drawing up whatever he wants from below, by means of a line hanging from his girdle. When he has covered all the fruit, he unties his seat, secures it round his neck, and swings the tree backwards and forwards, till he can reach another tree, upon which he throws himself, and again makes fast his seat. In this way he swings from tree to tree, and covers or cuts the fruit in the whole garden without once descending to the ground.

_19th._--I hear such quantities of amusing things from this East Indian friend of my uncle’s, that I scarcely know how to select from them. I wish you were here to listen to his adventures and to see his beautiful drawings. He lent me a sketch of the famous talipot tree of Ceylon, which I have been trying to copy. What a magnificent object it appears, crowned at the top by those immense leaves, one of which, it is said, can shelter fifteen or twenty men from the rain! They seem to be formed purposely for this use, for they fold up like a fan, so that the whole leaf, or any portion of it, becomes portable; and though tough and impenetrable to water, they are easily cut with a knife. When a leaf is spread out, it is nearly circular; but it is cut for use into triangular pieces, one of which every Singhalese soldier carries as his parasol or umbrella by day, and his tent at night. The fruit is not eaten; but the pith, like that of the sago tree, is very good, if the tree be cut down before the seed ripens; when beaten in a mortar, it produces a kind of flour, from which cakes are made, that taste something like wheaten bread.

Colonel Travers made an excursion into the interior of Ceylon, and he described to us to-day a very curious mode of hunting which they have there. Near the side of a large pond, a hole is dug four feet deep, and wide enough to contain two or three persons. It is covered with leaves, branches, and earth, except a small opening, through which the hunters can keep a look out, and when necessary point their guns. Before dark they conceal themselves there, in order to watch the wild beasts, which come from the woods to drink, and the different species of which always come in separate herds. The elephants come first, and stay longest, as they usually bathe before they drink, and when the water is not deep enough, they draw it up into their trunks, and refresh themselves, by spouting it over their bodies. The buffaloes come next; after having satisfied their thirst, they amuse themselves by lying down in the water, and playing and tumbling about. The tigers and the bears also take their separate turns, and towards morning, the wild boars and deer, and other smaller beasts. It is for these that the hunters generally adopt this plan, which, however, is exposed to more dangers than one, for there are instances of elephants falling into the pits and crushing the people; and even of tigers and buffaloes having discovered them by their scent. To avoid such misfortunes, the hunters go in parties, and one person is placed in some secure position, to warn the others, and to frighten away the straggling animals that come too near, by firing upon them, or throwing rockets. Colonel Travers and his companions joined a party of this kind, and here is his history of it.

“We were called at two o’clock, and having carefully loaded our pieces, and filled our pouches with cartridges, we slowly advanced along the river. At a distance on the other side, the noise of various animals was echoed deep and terrible through the forest; and we heard, in almost every watery place around us, rustling and motion. We pitched upon one of the largest of these places, and crept softly, but at a little distance from each other, into the bushes and thorns with which it was surrounded. This pool seemed to be about five or six hundred yards in circumference, and we all agreed not to fire at an elephant, or at any of the large fierce beasts, but to wait patiently the arrival of the smaller animals.

“We had not been long concealed in our thorny hiding place, when two tigers approached at the opposite side, and we observed that they drank one after the other, though there was sufficient space for both. Another half hour elapsed before any thing more made its appearance, but the noise increased on all sides, and made us rather uneasy. At last we heard the deep low of approaching buffaloes, and three soon made their appearance. After having drank for a long time, they waded into the deep part and lay down, so that nothing could be seen but their noses; and no one, who had not seen them go in, could have suspected that such huge animals were concealed there. In a short time a fourth buffalo arrived, and after snuffing round him for some moments, he began to drink. Though the others put their heads out of the water, they did not interfere with him while drinking, but when he appeared inclined to advance farther into the water, one of them instantly attacked him with a hideous roar, and as the moon shone very brightly, I could see distinctly the whole of their furious battle. At every charge they retired some steps backwards, making the sand fly in clouds, and then, with dreadful snortings and at full speed, again rushed upon each other. At last the intruding buffalo received such a tremendous blow, that he fled; and the conqueror, disdaining to pursue him, merely bellowed twice, with a clear and terrific sound, that re-echoed on every side, when he quietly returned his companions.

“The pleasure I had felt in beholding this furious combat, was soon changed into alarm, by the unexpected report of a gun! The three buffaloes started suddenly from the water--for a few moments they stood together snorting with rage, and then two of them rushed off in the direction of the flash, while the third came out near me, as if to search the bushes on all sides. I endeavoured to get out of my bush before the monster could approach; but unfortunately I became entangled in the thorns, and it was impossible to extricate myself in time. By a violent effort, however, I tore myself loose, leaving most of my clothes behind, and instantly began to run--but the furious beast was now close--I almost felt his breath, and looking round saw him not six paces distant, when throwing myself flat on the ground, he passed over me and continued at full speed! I again crept into the thicket, and in a few minutes I heard the voices of my companions, who were in search of me, armed with flaming pieces of wood. I had felt much incensed against them for firing--but I found that they had not been to blame, a branch had struck the lock of one of their guns, which went off, and they had been exposed to as much danger as myself.”

_20th._--“And he hardened Pharaoh’s heart, that he hearkened not unto them, as the Lord had said.”[6] My uncle told us to-day that this passage should be expressed thus:--“And the heart of Pharaoh _was hardened_, so that he hearkened not unto them; as the Lord had _foretold_.” It is so rendered, he says, in the ancient versions; and the most judicious modern commentators agree that this is the proper meaning.

“Indeed,” said my uncle, “in allowing it to be inferred that the Lord had purposely hardened Pharaoh’s heart, the translators of the Bible have acted inconsistently with their own view of the phrase in several other places.[7] This is very striking in the following chapter, where it is said ‘Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also,’ which plainly implies that his resistance after the former plagues had proceeded from his own perverse and stubborn disposition. I have likewise been assured by some very learned men, that according to the Hebrew idiom, verbs active often signify _permission_; and in these verses it is much more consonant to our ideas of divine justice so to understand the expression: that is, that God permitted Pharaoh to proceed in his own proud and wicked career, insensible to the threatened judgments, which he had already despised.

“But even supposing that the verb is to be taken in the active sense, it is a remarkable fact, that the event was constantly suspended in order that Pharaoh might have it in his power to relent and to ‘set his heart,’ that is, to humble and change it, and become obedient to the word of the Lord; for after five plagues had already been wrought upon him, and that he still persisted, even then his punishment was withheld; in order to let him repent, if he would. Besides which, the delay afforded a far more conspicuous testimony of God’s patience, and gave greater dignity to his wrath.

“Pharaoh’s final obduracy therefore was not caused by God’s will, but was the effect of his own previous obstinacy;--that he hardened his heart was his sin;--that the Lord permitted him to harden it, was his punishment.”

My uncle said also that a Hebrew scholar told him that the word which is translated by the verb to _harden_ in the above text is, in other parts of the Bible, translated, to _grieve_ or to _trouble_; and that, in his opinion, the construction of the sentence requires one of those words.

“In several parts of the English Bible,” continued my uncle, “_shall_ is put in the place of _will_. For instance, in Exodus ix. 4. ‘And the Lord shall sever between the cattle,’ where the sense evidently requires _will_; and thus, ch. vii. 4, and xi. 9, ‘Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you,’ should undoubtedly be rendered ‘Pharaoh _will_ not hearken unto you.’ This agrees exactly with the principle I have already mentioned, that verbs active sometimes signify permission.”

My uncle mentioned several other instances of this confusion between _shall_, which seems to ordain, and _will_, which only foretels. And he added, “There are several of these minor faults and mistakes in our translation, which make it very important that we should never judge of detached passages, but that we should compare different parts of the Bible together, in order that they may throw light upon each other.”

_21st._--I forgot to tell you in the right part of my journal, that in preparing my carnation beds, the gardener observed a great number of those wire-worms, which are so destructive to all the pink tribe. I recollected that Mr. Biggs said that salt destroyed them, but that it was difficult to apply just the right proportion; that is, enough to kill the worms, but not enough to render the ground sterile--which a great quantity of salt certainly does. In talking of this to my uncle, it occurred to him that the stuff called salt dross, which is often thrown away, would be a mild form of applying salt; and he was so kind and indulgent, that he procured, not without much trouble and difficulty, a boat-load; it is of an odd purplish brown colour, and retains many saline particles.

To each of my intended carnation beds, which are about six feet long and two feet broad, we put a wheelbarrow full of this stuff, which the gardener dug in, and thoroughly mixed with the earth. The beds were then thrown up in high ridges, to remain so for the winter, during which the salt will, my uncle thinks, destroy these mischievous worms, as well as the snail eggs.

If this succeeds, it will be a very satisfactory experiment, but many months must pass before we can ascertain its success.

This was done a few days before my uncle went to town.

_22nd._--I have had another walk with my uncle to-day, in the beech-walk, of which he has made me so fond. I took that opportunity of asking him why some trees lose their leaves in winter, and others preserve them; for the fall of the leaf has been a subject of great curiosity to me, and I felt quite sure that he could explain the cause clearly. But he told me that it has never been satisfactorily accounted for, and that there is some objection to every opinion yet published. He says it would be a very good pursuit for my cousins and myself, to begin a course of observations on the nature of leaves and leaf-buds, and their connexion with the stem; and he has offered a prize, as he says they do in the learned societies, to whichever amongst us takes the best view of the subject.

I asked, was it not caused by frost? “It is not always the effect of autumnal frost,” he replied. “Some trees seem to lose their leaves at stated times, independently of the temperature. They fall from the lime, for instance, before any frost happens; and indeed all deciduous leaves, as the season advances, become gradually more rigid, less juicy, lose their down, and at last change their healthy green colour to a yellow or reddish hue.”

He then asked me if I had observed anything of the order in which the different trees cast them. I answered that the walnut and horse-chesnut appeared to have lost their leaves before any other: then the sycamore and lime, and I believed the ash had soon followed; but that many of the elm, and most of the beech and oak trees were still well covered, though they had changed colour.

“Yes,” said he, “but the leaves of the young beech, though they have become brown and dry, will not fall till spring; and the fibres of the oak are so tough, that the leaf does not easily separate from the branch. You may also perceive that the apple and peach trees remain green, very often till the beginning of December. Some botanists attribute the defoliation of trees to the drying up of the vessels which connect the leaf with the stem; and others to the swelling of the young buds for the succeeding year. This, they say, deprives the old leaf of its accustomed supply of sap, and as they enlarge, they push it out of their way; but there is a material objection to this theory, that the leafits of _pinnated_ leaves fall in the same manner, though there are no buds to push them off.

“It is also supposed that the vessels of the petiole gradually become woody, and incapable of freely transmitting the sap; it therefore stagnates, the vessels become overloaded, and the parts which connect the stem and the leaf crack at the insertion of the petiole. The vessels being thus interrupted, the leaf is no longer supplied with proper nourishment; it loses its elasticity, and becomes dry and brittle; and the least shock, whether the effect of frost or of wind, detaches it.

“Another opinion,” added my uncle, “is, that the fibres of the leaf-stalk are not a simple continuation of those of the twig or branch, but that they both terminate at that point from which the leaf falls; being only connected by a kind of adhesive substance, which dries up when the sap ceases to rise. This point of separation you may easily perceive,” said he, “like a cicatrice, in the form of a ring; and the same appearance of a natural separation is to be seen in the peduncles of flowers, which seem also to be attached by a sort of vegetable solder to the stem.”

“But, uncle, why then do not leaves fall much sooner, if they are so slightly attached to the stem?”

“Because this adhesive substance is a strong cement, as long as it is supplied by the vegetable juices. If you attempt to remove the stalk elsewhere than at that point where it is united, the fibres are lacerated; and this proves that the separation had been prepared for at that one point, by some peculiar organization which acts independently of frost or rain, or other external causes.”

My uncle then shewed me the ring which marks the point of separation. It is most easily seen in autumn, he says; it is double in the orange, and in the berberry he shewed me that it is above the point of contact between the leaf and branch, so that after the fall of the leaf, the rudiment of the foot-stalk remains to preserve the bud. He took the trouble of pointing out a little triangle of thorns behind the young bud, which seems to be another beautiful contrivance of nature for its protection in that bush. We then observed this point of separation in other trees whose leaves were not at all gone, and he told me that it is very strongly marked in the horse-chesnut with five small dots.

I begged my uncle to tell me what I should particularly pay attention to in the course of our observations.

He said that as it has never yet been ascertained whether the leaves spring from the wood or from the bark, he would advise us not merely to observe the progress of the buds, but to take every means of tracing their connection with the interior. We may examine with his microscope all sorts of twigs, to see whether the vessels of the central part of the wood extend to the leaf-stalk; and he suggests that we should very carefully observe the difference of structure in evergreen leaves, and in those which perish in the autumn. He recommends us to lose no further time in beginning our task on the few remaining leaves, in order that we may see in spring whether evergreens shed their leaves in the same manner; and we are also to ascertain when their buds are actually formed. “Above all,” he says, “I advise you to take nothing for granted--examine every thing with your own eyes, and learn facts.”

I shall like this employment very much, and Mary, Frederick, and myself have agreed to work in concert. Both my uncle and aunt encourage us; they say it will afford a large field for very entertaining experiments, and they think that inquiries of this sort are highly useful to young people.

_23d._--The fields which were ploughed and sown with wheat not above two months ago, are now of a beautiful green; how hardy it must be, to withstand the severe weather, which I am told may soon be expected! My uncle says, that wheat grows in every variety of climate, except in regions of extreme cold.

It has not been ascertained of what country wheat was a native, and it is certainly a very remarkable fact, that, though cultivated so generally, no wild plants of those species that are used in agriculture have been found, though one of our late travellers imagined that he found it in the mountains of Thibet.

The ploughs are still at work preparing the ground for oats to be sown in spring; or they are laying it up in fallows. The potatoes have all been dug long ago, and safely packed in houses, to preserve them from the frost, which spoils them. My uncle says, that, though potatoes are more used than formerly, they are not such a general article of food as in Ireland. The custom there is to store them in pits covered with a high mound of clay, which by excluding the air delays the progress of vegetation in the root, until the time of replanting returns.

“It is quite astonishing,” my aunt remarked last night, “how the cultivation of potatoes has spread since they were first discovered in South America, and imported by the Spaniards, who called them _papas_. Sir Walter Raleigh found them afterwards in Virginia; he introduced them into this country in 1596, and there is now scarcely a civilized spot on the earth to which we have not distributed them. Even to Persia, this valuable root has been conveyed by the benevolent exertions of our envoy, Sir John Malcolm; and at Abusheher the grateful inhabitants call it Malcolm’s plum.”

I have been very busy this morning clearing away all dead stalks and leaves in my garden, and completing the borders, which I have edged with thrift; and all my seed-beds have been lightly covered to preserve them from the expected frost.

The gardener is going to try two new methods of raising pine-apples; for my uncle always likes to ascertain truth by experiment. A great pit is to be filled with withered leaves, which in decaying undergo a fermentation that produces sufficient heat to answer the purpose; and in this pit the pots of pine plants are to be plunged. The second method is to place the pine-pots on a brick stand, in a moderate heat, and without being plunged in either tan or leaves. He is a most valuable gardener, and finds time for many nice little experiments without ever neglecting his regular work. All his carrot, parsnip, and beet roots are taken up and preserved in dry sand; he is now sowing celery under glass frames for an early crop for next year; and Mary says they have had celery every day since July, in Continual succession, as he constantly earthed it up, adding still to the height of the earthing in order to increase its size and whiteness. His peas and beans he sowed three weeks ago in the warm border in front of the south fruit-wall. He is now going to protect them from frost by branches of fir-trees, and he hopes to have some ready for the table by the second week in May.

What a contrast there is between the labour and attention necessary here for all these vegetable productions, and the luxuriance with which they spring up in Brazil! But there is a pleasure I am sure in successful industry, that is scarcely understood by the indolent inhabitants of those warm and fertile climates.

_25th._--Yesterday being a bright lovely day, my uncle and aunt took advantage of it to go to Newnham to see the poor travellers, of whom we had heard nothing for some time.

Beyond all our hopes they found Bertram considerably better. My aunt had requested her own physician to attend him, and he is now so much recovered, that if the weather continue mild he is to set out to-morrow on his way home. The old gentleman arrived last week; and though great agitation was caused at first by their meeting, yet it seemed to have a favorable effect on Bertram, as the anxiety and fear of never seeing his poor old father again had preyed on his mind.

Madeleine’s spirits are a little improved; she allows herself once more to hope, but she is prepared to submit with true Christian resignation to whatever happens. She is relieved too from all anxiety in regard to her new father; he received her as a daughter, and expresses the greatest tenderness for her and her pretty little child; who has learned to say “dear grandpapa” among the few English words she has picked up.

When my aunt went in, she found him just going to read prayers to his son; she begged of him to go on, and she says nothing could be more touching than the scene--the weak but solemn voice of the pious old man; the calmness and devotion in the countenance of the son, and the gleam of hope that shone over Madeleine’s subdued and sad countenance.

_26th._--Now that winter has really begun, we make a circle round the fire after dinner; and we are so comfortable and happy there that I am often sorry when the time comes for leaving the room.

We have various amusements; on some days we each invent little tales which are to turn on some circumstance that is first agreed upon; at other times we have some of those question plays in which you discover, by a particular set of questions, the thoughts of another person. One of our favourite occupations is doing arithmetical questions in our heads. We have often used a multiplier of three or four figures, which I assure you makes it hard work. My uncle and aunt now and then join in this; and being of course very ambitious to outdo them, we all get into a sort of fever of exertion which makes it very diverting, and the conqueror very triumphant.--Then we compare the different methods which we took, and each person finds out what caused their mistakes. I am afraid I am oftener behind in the race than most of the party, for beside their being much better arithmeticians than me, I am so afraid of being wrong, that I do not speak out in time even when I have my answer ready and right.

I must tell you one of the questions we had this evening; it was proposed by Caroline. In one of the vignettes to Bewick’s birds, there is a man preparing to fasten himself to a team of birds which are to convey him to the moon; the team is wedge-shaped, and the birds are harnessed together in rows, each of which increases by one, from the single bird that acts as leader. Now, supposing that the man weighs ten stone, and that each bird can raise five pounds, how many rows of birds are necessary for his flight?

_27th_, _Sunday._--My uncle again took up the judgments inflicted on the Egyptians. He said that if they were considered with reference to that particular nation, it appeared that there was a peculiar meaning in some of those calamities, which would not have applied so well to any other people. He told us that they paid an idolatrous reverence to many of the inferior animals, and worshipped, as superior gods, the ox, the cow, and the ram. Among these, the Apis and Mnevis are well known; the former, a sacred bull adored at Memphis, and the latter at Heliopolis. There were also a cow and heifer, which had similar honours, at Momemphis.--These judgments were therefore very significant in their execution and object; as the Egyptians not only saw their cattle perish, but, what was still more dreadful, they saw their deities sink before the “God of the Hebrews.” This satisfactorily explains what is said in Numbers: “Upon their gods also the Lord executed judgments[8]”; and these events had doubtless a useful influence, though not a lasting one, on the minds of the Israelites, to whom the gods of the Egyptians must at that time have appeared very contemptible.

“I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail:” this judgment, he told us, was also particularly adapted to the Egyptians. The rain and hail that were foretold must have appeared of all things most incredible to the Egyptians; for in Egypt little or no rain ever falls, the want of it being supplied by dews and by the overflowing of the Nile; and when they witnessed this storm of hail, “such as had not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof,” and accompanied by “mighty thunderings,” and fire that ran along the ground, what dread and amazement they must have felt! Pharaoh had received warning of these terrific prodigies, which the deities of Egypt could not avert; and even the fire and water, which had been held sacred by the Egyptians, were now employed they found as passive instruments of their punishment. Besides the formation of the hail, which was so uncommon in that country, its falling so miraculously on the day, and in the district foretold, must have overwhelmingly convinced them of the impotence of the creatures which they worshipped, and of the boundless power of the Almighty.

I asked my uncle at what season these plagues had happened, and why the injury to flax and barley were particularly mentioned.

“The season,” said he, “is not expressly stated; but as the departure of the Israelites was on the 15th of the month of Abib, which corresponds with the beginning of April, we may suppose that the seventh plague (of hail) was sent about the beginning of March, so as to leave time for the three succeeding plagues. This idea is confirmed by travellers, from whom we learn that the barley harvest in Egypt is reaped in March, and the wheat in April; and it explains why ‘the barley was in ear,’ though not yet fit for reaping; and ‘the wheat and the rye were not grown up.’ Abib means the month of the young ears of corn.

“Their barley must have been a grievous loss, as the principal beverage of the Egyptians was made from it; but scarcely any thing could have distressed them more than the loss of their flax, because the whole nation wore linen garments, and the priests never put on any other kind of clothing. This linen was manufactured from that fine flax for which the valley of the Nile was famous, and was in great request in other countries also; for though the Egyptians did not trade abroad themselves, yet they readily disposed of it to foreign merchants.”

_28th._--A question of mine this morning, though it exposed my ignorance, gave me an opportunity of perceiving how much light is thrown by general knowledge on the difficult parts of Scripture history; and, indeed, on all other history. I had asked how it was that the locusts, independently of their coming at the appointed moment, could have been called one of the miraculous plagues, as they were so common in Egypt. I saw my cousins looking a little surprised, but they are so good-natured that they never laugh at my mistakes.

My uncle explained to me that I was wrong in supposing that locusts were common in Egypt. “They are very abundant,” he said, “in the neighbouring regions of Arabia, which has been proverbially called their cradle, but the Red Sea appears to be an effectual barrier against their molesting the Egyptians. They seldom succeed in crossing any great extent of water; for though they frequently migrate into very distant countries, yet their habit of often alighting on the ground is fatal to them in traversing the sea.

“There is another circumstance that saves Egypt from the visits of these dreadful insects; when they take wing they are obliged to follow the course of the wind, and in that country, you know, the winds blow six months from the _north_, and six months from the _south_; but, at the time spoken of, an east wind prevailed ‘all day and all night;’ and the whole face of the country in the morning was covered with the locusts. This strong easterly wind, which enabled them to cross the Red Sea, was plainly preternatural; and we are told distinctly that ‘before them there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.’

“There are in Scripture ten names for locusts. The species mentioned here is called Arbah, which imports multiplicity; a very just name, indeed: for their prodigious numbers almost defy calculation; and the famous Dutch naturalist Leuwenhoek asserts, that every female lays upwards of eighty eggs. When a cloud of these insects alights upon the ground, the devastation they create is dreadful. Adanson, in his voyage to the western coast of Africa, says, that they devoured to the very root and bark; and that there was something corrosive in their bite, which prevented the trees from recovering their power of vegetation for some time. They even attacked the dry reeds with which the huts were thatched. Another traveller tells us that in Cyprus, as he went from Larnica to a garden at about four miles’ distance, the locusts lay above a foot deep, on several parts of the high roads, and millions were destroyed by the wheels of the carriage. Dr. Shaw says, that he saw them in such multitudes in Barbary, in the middle of April, that in the heat of the day, when they formed themselves into large bodies, they appeared like a succession of clouds darkening the sun: in June the new broods made their appearance; on being hatched, they collected together in compact bodies of several hundred yards square; and marching directly forward, climbed over trees, walls and houses, ate up every plant in their way, and let nothing escape. The inhabitants made trenches and filled them with water; they also placed quantities of combustible matter in rows and set them on fire; but in vain, for the trenches were quickly filled up and the fires extinguished by the vast numbers that succeeded each other.

“Strong winds, which can alone free a country from this plague, have several times blown large swarms over the central part of Europe, and even to England; and it was a ‘mighty west wind,’ which formerly carried them away from Egypt and cast them into the Red Sea.” I asked if these insects were really eatable, as St. John is said to have lived on locusts in the wilderness?

“As it is well known,” said my uncle, “that locusts have in all ages been eaten in the east, and are still esteemed a great delicacy in Barbary as well as in the south of Africa, some commentators have endeavoured to prove that St. John did eat them in the wilderness. But the word translated locusts, signifies also _pods_ or seed-vessels of trees. The pods of some of the Robinia and Gleditsia tribes are considered in Syria to be sweet and nourishing; and it is, I believe, generally supposed that they were the food alluded to in the Gospels.”

_29th._--In our genius conversation to-day, several people were mentioned on each side: Mary quoted a passage from Johnson’s Lives of the Poets respecting Denham, who, he says, was “considered at Oxford as a dreaming young man, given more to cards and dice than to study;--he gave no prognostics of his future eminence, nor was suspected to conceal, under sluggishness and idleness, a genius born to improve the literature of his country.” “Of Swift, too,” continued Mary, “there appears no early proof of genius or diligence; for when at the usual time he claimed a bachelorship of arts, he was found by the examiners too conspicuously deficient for regular admission--and at last obtained his degree by special favour; a term used, as Johnson says, in the university of Dublin, to denote want of merit.” It is probable, therefore, that new circumstances combined together afterwards to _bring out_ the powers possessed by these celebrated men; and I am sure, mamma, this little perpetual argument serves to bring out several very entertaining biographical facts.

Haydn, the famous composer, was the son of a wheelwright; such an employment was not likely to lead to the cultivation of music, and we might be tempted to consider him as a natural genius; but it appears that his father played on the harp, and on holidays used to accompany his wife while she sang. Whenever this little domestic concert took place, the child, with two pieces of wood in his hands, to represent a violin and a bow, pretended also to accompany his mother’s voice; and to the very close of his life, this great musician used to perform with delight the airs which she had then sung. A cousin of theirs, a schoolmaster, came to see them, and being well pleased with the boy’s talents, proposed to educate him. His parents accepted the offer; and at school, having discovered a tambourine, an instrument which has but two tones, he succeeded in forming a kind of air, which attracted the attention of all who came to the school-house. He was then taught to sing at the parish desk, and was soon noticed by Reüter, who tried him with a difficult shake, and who was so delighted with the child’s execution, that he emptied a plate of cherries into his pocket. He was eight when admitted to the choir of St. Stephen, at Vienna, and from that time practised above sixteen hours a day. “In all this,” says Mary, “we see the natural effect of circumstances, and no mark of what is called absolute genius.”

_30th._--Colonel Travers was not present at our conversation about the locusts; but on its being alluded to this evening, he told us that he had once seen a flight of those creatures which contained such an incredible multitude, that nothing could have persuaded him of the fact, if he had not been an eye-witness to it himself.

Instead of going by sea to India, he went overland, that is, through part of Turkey, Arabia, and Persia; and, in 1811, he happened to be at Smyrna, in Asia Minor, when this extraordinary flight of locusts occurred. He says that for several days stragglers had been passing, but at last the main body came, and in such a dense column, as not indeed to obscure the sun, but to produce a curious quivering light. He thinks the lines in which they appeared to fly were about one foot asunder, and that locust followed locust at the distance of three feet. They came in a steady, undeviating direction from south to north, and continued to pass, without any diminution of their numbers, for three successive days and nights. The breadth of this prodigious column was at least forty miles, for a messenger who had been dispatched by the consul to the pasha of Sardis, passed through them all the way, both going and returning. Caroline immediately produced the map of Asia Minor, and we found that Sardis is fully that distance from Smyrna, and that its direction is just at right angles to the direction of their flight.

My uncle was greatly interested by the Colonel’s account of this remarkable swarm, and proposed that we should endeavour to make some estimate of the number of locusts of which it consisted. We all took out our pencils and went to work. In the first place, the breadth of the column was 40 miles, or 70,400 yards; and as their ranks were a foot apart, we have 211,200 for the number of locusts at each foot of elevation. Colonel T. was then examined as to the entire height; he thinks it must have been much above 300 yards, for on looking upwards with his pocket telescope, he could see them like little specks glittering in the sun. We contented ourselves with the 300, and taking them also at a foot apart, there were of course 900 locusts in height, by which we multiplied the former number, and the product was 190,080,000. Now, mamma, for the length of the column: he says there was a gentle breeze from the southward, with which, and their own velocity, he thinks that they were travelling at the rate of about seven miles in an hour, and that they succeeded each other at an average distance of three feet. In each mile, then, there were 1760, and in seven miles, 12,320, which, multiplied by 72, the number of hours in the three days which the flight continued, gives 887,040 for the number in each line of the column; and this, finally multiplied by the 190 millions, gives the almost inconceivable total of 168,608,563,200,000 in this one swarm of locusts!

“I should like to know,” said Mary, “the exact size of these creatures.”

The Colonel said that he could not answer exactly, without referring to his journals, which were in town, but that he imagined they were about the same size as a large grasshopper: “But why do you want their exact dimensions?”

Mary said she would have tried what sized mountain they would have made if they were all heaped together. Frederick, who is a great collector of grubs and insects, immediately brought down some dried grasshoppers, but they were very small; and after much consultation, it was agreed to assume two inches for the length, and a third of an inch for the breadth and thickness of a locust. In a short time, Mary announced, as the result of her calculation, that the whole quantity would amount to 4818 millions of cubic yards.

“But in order to compare this huge mass with some tangible standard,” said my uncle, “let us see what proportion it bears to the largest pyramid of Egypt. According to the measurement of Dr. Greaves, the base of the pyramid of Cheops is 693 feet, and its perpendicular altitude is 499 feet.”

We again went to work, and Mary was again first with the answer, that her heap of locusts was 1030 times larger than the pyramid!

“Well, Bertha,” said my aunt, “you and I will try what sort of a girdle the Colonel’s locusts would make for the earth, supposing them to be placed close together; but what shall we assume for its circumference?”

My uncle said we might take 24,800 miles; and with my kind aunt’s assistance, I had the pleasure of astonishing the party with the information, that this great swarm of locusts would have encircled the globe with a band of a mile and an eighth wide!

If these locusts had alighted any where in a body, I suppose they would have destroyed every thing; as it was, Colonel T. says, the stragglers did a great deal of mischief throughout the country, and he mentioned a laughable story of the wife of an English merchant at Smyrna, with whom he was acquainted. This lady was very fond of her garden, and on the approach of the locusts she and her maids had spread sheets and table-cloths over all her choice flower-beds to protect the plants. Poor woman! she went to bed priding herself on her ingenuity, but when the morning came, she found all gone--not only the flowers, but the linen also totally demolished.

In answer to a question from my uncle, he said he had not been able to learn whether any great proportion of these locusts had penetrated into Russia and Europe, but he knew that myriads had perished in the sea of Marmora and the Euxine. In the gulf of Smyrna he had himself seen a ridge of their dead bodies, which was two feet high, and which had been washed up along the whole extent of the beach by the waves. The smell was most noxious, polluting the air for several miles inland; and this, he thinks, may partly account for the plague which occurred in the following spring. There is a saying in that country, but for the truth of which he does not vouch, that every seven years Arabia sends a swarm of those destructive insects into Asia Minor, though very rarely of such magnitude as that of 1811; and that every locust-year is succeeded by a plague-year of more or less severity.

Wentworth asked him if he had ever seen locusts used as food; and he replied that they are eaten in a great many parts of the world, and cooked in a great variety of ways. In some countries they are stewed, or fried, or made into soup, or salted and preserved; in others they are ground, mixed up with flour, and baked into cakes; but he had frequently seen the Arabs eat them without any preparation whatever, merely pulling off the head, wings, and legs, just as we eat shrimps.

My uncle and he continued to converse on the subject for some time, and I learned one more fact for you,--that their flight produces a sort of indistinct, tumultuous sound, something like the rustling noise of flames. The Colonel says this noise made his horse very uneasy, which no doubt was greatly increased by the locusts incessantly striking against him. In riding to Bournabat, where the English merchants have country houses, he crossed their line of flight; and in order to save his face, he was obliged to keep his hat on the side of his head, against which they pattered like a shower of hail. It appears that they never turn to the right or to the left, but fly straight forward, as if following one supreme leader, or rather as blindly impelled by some irresistible influence.

“How truly,” exclaimed my aunt, “it is said of them in the Bible, ‘The locusts have no king, yet go they forth all of them by bands.’”

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONDON:

Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, Stamford-street.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Sula communis.

[2] The cashew-nut.

[3] See Forbes’ Oriental Memoirs, and Asiatic Researches.

[4] Lord of the Isles, c. iii.

[5] Bakewell’s Travels.

[6] Exodus vii. 13.

[7] Exod. vii. 22, viii. 19 & 32, ix. 7.

[8] Numbers, xxxiii. 4.