Part 2

“As an additional confirmation of this being the true meaning of the expression,” my uncle continued, “we may recollect that the custom of giving, receiving, and even demanding presents is common to all parts of the East at this day; it is especially practised on the arrival or taking leave of strangers, and therefore may be well applied, in this case, to the departure of the Israelites. It seems to have been the same in all ages; for I need scarcely remind you of the ‘gold, and spices of very great store, and precious stones,’ that the Queen of Sheba gave to Solomon; nor of the magnificent gifts he presented to her when she was going away, even ‘all her desire, whatsoever she _asked_, beside that which Solomon gave her of his royal bounty.’ Nor is this exchange of presents looked upon as any degradation to dignity, nor any mark of a rapacious meanness.

“I have been the more desirous to explain that passage, because, from the ambiguity of one word the Israelites have been accused of cheating the Egyptians; and, what is of more consequence, it has been said that they were commanded to do so. But when the word is corrected, you see that these calumnies at once fall to the ground. And I would recommend you all to adopt a general rule in reading the scriptures, of which I have found the benefit. Whenever you meet with any expression that seems to be inconsistent with the moral justice of God--pause--compare the different parts where the same, or a similar phrase, occurs, and, before you come to a rash conclusion, study the acceptation that the words had at the period when the present version was made. If it requires a knowledge of the original language, apply to some learned person; not so much to reason for you, as to furnish the data on which to satisfy yourselves. However bounded may be our notions of the qualities of the Deity, and though his attributes far transcend our conception, yet it is certain that our ideas of justice must have been derived from principles implanted by Him; and no decree of His can ever be contrary to that justice--for the nature of God is immutable: He is ‘the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever.’”

_12th._--I am sure, Mamma, that you must feel very grateful to Colonel Travers for all the interesting things which I have picked up from him, and which I put in my journal for your amusement. To-day there was a conversation about our fisheries, and he related two facts which I am in hopes will be quite new to you.

You know that the great cod fishery which supplies almost all Europe with salt-fish, is on the sand-bank that extends from the island of Newfoundland. The water is from twenty to sixty fathoms in depth; and when the Colonel was returning from Canada with his regiment, he persuaded the Captain of the ship to stop for some hours on this bank, in order to catch cod for the soldiers. He saw a great many hooked with long lines and pulled up; and he observed, that when that was done very rapidly the air-bladder burst, and pushed part of the stomach out of the mouth. He explained to us that it is the air-bladder that enables fish to raise or lower themselves in the water, by taking in or letting out more or less air; but this they can only do gradually; and therefore when the air has been highly condensed at the bottom of the sea, the pressure of fifty or sixty fathoms of water, it expands the bladder more quickly than the fish has the power of giving it vent. The air-bladder is _cured_ or salted with the fish, and is then called the sound.

This led the conversation to the different depths which are inhabited by different classes of fish. My uncle told us that turbots, soles, and other flat fish, are not furnished with an air-bladder, because they never quit the bottom of the sea; and Colonel Travers, to prove that some fish are not intended to sink very far below the surface, mentioned the following curious circumstance. When a whale is attacked by a sword-fish, he immediately dives; and the sword-fish, not being calculated by Nature to bear the enormous pressure of the sea at very great depth, is obliged to withdraw his weapon;--if he cannot speedily extricate it, he dies. My uncle said that this fact helped to explain the facility with which those great monsters are killed by our Greenland fishermen: when a whale is struck by a harpoon, he imagines it to be a sword-fish, and, as usual, dives; this he does with such velocity, that the harpooner is obliged to throw water on the part of the boat over which the harpoon-line runs, to prevent its taking fire; but the power of diving is probably limited even in a whale, and the length of line, perhaps a mile or two, which he has taken out and is obliged to drag through the water, at last tires him--he stops--and the men, by slowly pulling in the line, in fact haul the boat towards him; again he sets off--he is again tired--and is ultimately exhausted and killed by fatigue! If he ran straight out, near the surface, no line could be long enough, or strong enough, to check him--whenever a whale does do so, the line snaps, and he escapes.

_13th._--The last thing that Colonel Travers told us--for I am sorry to say he is gone away--was a pretty little story that he learned at Ceylon.

When the pearl-fishing in Condatchy Bay is going on, which is, he says, a most lively, amusing scene, the Indians of the continent attend in great numbers, and being occasionally employed, they find ample opportunity to exercise their dexterity in sleight of hand, and every sort of roguery. A set of these Indians contrived an ingenious method of cheating the boat-owner who employed them to open his oysters. While one of them made a preconcerted signal, whenever any pearls worth stealing were found, another at the same moment pretended to conceal about him a few small ones, and while he thus attracted the attention of the superintendents and occasioned some bustle, the real thief was able to secrete his prize.

This contrivance was discovered by one of the poor Ceylonese who attended the washing of the pearls; he made it known to the master of the boat, and then, having reason to dread the vengeance of the thieves, he immediately fled. For some days he proceeded without shelter, till arriving at the hut of a farmer, who lived near a cinnamon plantation belonging to government, he supplicated him for relief and a lodging. This man was very poor; he had a large family, and could with difficulty shelter the fugitive for one night; besides, suspecting that the story was not quite true, and that it was the thief instead of the informer who told it, he was not willing to let him continue there, lest it should bring himself under suspicion. The Ceylonese was hurt at a doubt which he so ill deserved, and left the farmer early next morning, wandering he knew not whither, till he found himself, just when the sun was at its height, in a tangled and extensive forest; there he sat down to rest under a banyan-tree, whose self-rooted branches, entwined with creepers, had become nearly impenetrable;--and there he determined to remain, as long as the forest supplied him with fruit and wild honey. Fear had taken such possession of him, that he was afraid to venture back to the more inhabited parts of the country; and yet he was here in equal dread of the _Bedahs_, a race who live in the forests and mountains, and who refuse to associate with the more civilized Ceylonese.

It is supposed, Colonel Travers told us, that the Bedahs are descended from the original inhabitants; and that, having fled from the Ceylonese invaders, they have retained, with their ancient customs, their hatred and fear of the invaders. They live by hunting, they sleep in the trees, placing thorns and bushes on the ground round them to give warning of approaching wild beasts; and on every alarm a Bedah climbs the highest branches with the expertness of a monkey.

There are some tribes of the Bedahs in the southern part of the island who are rather less wild, and who even carry on a little traffic with the Ceylonese; but they are so afraid of being made prisoners, that when they want to procure cloth, knives, iron, or any thing of that kind, they approach the town where it is to be had, at night, and deposit in a conspicuous place a fair quantity of goods, such as ivory, or honey, along with a _talipot_ leaf, on which they contrive to express what they want in exchange. On the next night they return, and generally find what they had demanded; for if their requests are neglected they seldom fail to revenge themselves.

Fruits of various kinds are so abundant in Ceylon, that for some time our poor fugitive was supplied with tolerable sustenance; and he often refreshed himself with the pure limpid water found in the Bandura, a most curious plant, whose leaves terminate in a kind of tube which contains nearly half a pint of water covered by a little valve. At last, anxiety brought on a low fever, his strength failed, and he lay under the banyan expecting to die of hunger. Early one morning he was roused from a sort of half stupor, by hearing the low growl of a dog; and on opening his eyes, he saw a man stooping to place something near him; he tried to speak--but the person had vanished. He had perceived, however, by his tall light figure and his copper complexion, that the stranger was a Bedah; and this would have been a very terrific idea, had he not smiled as he went away, and pointed to a little basket that he had left. Plantains and refreshing fruits were again within his reach; and the poor starving man ate thankfully, and felt as if he should live. Every morning he found a fresh supply in the same place; and as his strength began to return, the Bedah, besides the basket of fruit, added some more nutritious food. This was dried meat preserved in honey, to keep it from the air; and tied up in a particular substance which grows on the betel tree, at the root of each leaf; it somewhat resembles a tough skin, and is of so strong a texture, that it retains water. He wished to thank the Bedah, and frequently beckoned to him to stay; but the good natured savage shook his head, and disappeared.

When he felt himself quite recovered, and his strength restored, he resolved to procure employment, if possible, in the cinnamon groves. The grand harvest, which lasts from April to August, had begun, and he hoped that in some of the various processes of cutting, scraping, or barking, which are parcelled out among several classes of peelers, or _choliahs_, he might find work.

On his way from the forest, in passing by the same house where he had been permitted to lodge one night, he perceived that the farmer’s cattle had broken through the inclosure and made their way to the cinnamon trees, on which they were then feasting. This tree is such a favourite with cattle that they break down every fence to get to it; and most of the natives who live in the neighbourhood of those plantations are deterred from having cows, because all that are found trespassing there are forfeited.--This poor creature knew that, by giving information to the head officer, he might receive a reward which would relieve him from distress; but he had a more generous mind. He hastened to the farmer, and assisted him to drive back the cows and repair the fence, before they were discovered. The farmer was anxious to shew his gratitude, and he felt convinced that he had wronged him by his former suspicion. By his recommendation to the superintendent of the cinnamon groves, our wandering Ceylonese obtained employment, and in a short time felt himself so happy, that he had reason to reflect with satisfaction on his honesty and generosity.

As soon as he was able to save a little money, he purchased some few articles which he thought might be acceptable to the friendly Bedah; and by setting out in the night he arrived early in the morning at the forest, and deposited his offering on the very spot where, for so many successive days, the food had been placed which saved his life. In vain he delayed there in hopes of seeing the Bedah, till he was obliged to return to his work; but as he heard the well known growl at no great distance, he knew that he was observed, and that his present would be found. Colonel T. says, that the dogs of the Bedahs are remarkable for their sagacity in tracing game and in distinguishing the scent of different animals. On the approach of a stranger, or of any dangerous beast, they first put their master on his guard, and then help to defend him; and so invaluable are they to this tribe, that when their daughters marry, these dogs form their portion.

Our industrious Ceylonese had built a hut during his residence at the cinnamon plantation; it was formed from a single cocoa nut tree; the stem furnished posts; the branches supplied rafters, and the leaves formed a covering sufficient to repel both sun and rain. The Ceylonese huts are fastened entirely by withes of ratan, or by _coya_ rope, which is made of the fibrous threads of the husk of the cocoa nut. They are sometimes strengthened with slender pieces of wood or bamboo, and daubed over with clay; and round the walls are benches to sit or to sleep on.

Colonel Travers took the opportunity of telling us, that the cinnamon twigs are first scraped with a peculiar kind of knife, convex at one side, and concave opposite; the bark is then slit with the point, and the convex side of the knife is used to loosen it, till it can be taken off entire; it appears like a tube in that state, and the pieces are laid one within another, and spread to dry. When quite dried they are tied up in bundles of about thirty pounds weight, and are carried by the choliahs to the cinnamon store-houses at Columbo.

Being no longer afraid of the pearl-gatherers, he returned to Condatchy; and as it is a usual practice to search for pearls which may by chance have dropped from the oysters while they lie in the pits, he also went to see how far his present good fortune would continue to befriend him. Those pits are dug about two feet deep in the ground, and lined with mats; and the oysters are left there to putrefy, as they are then easily opened without injuring the pearls. His search was successful beyond his hopes; he found a pearl of uncommon size, and joyfully carried it to the collector, who rewarded him with a large sum of money.

It is easy, dear Mamma, to guess the rest of the story. He bought cloth, axes, knives, and various useful things; and making his way once more to the banyan tree, he laid these offerings of gratitude in the spot so well known to him and the good Bedah--and again he heard the faithful dog growl his knowledge of his being there. He then visited the farmer, and found him in the greatest distress; for his cattle having again trespassed on the cinnamon grounds they had been all seized. The kind-hearted Ceylonese bestowed on him a sum more than sufficient to replace his cows, and it was difficult to say which felt the most happy--the farmer suddenly relieved, or the generous creature who relieved him.

_16th._--We all petitioned my uncle to read the Tempest to us yesterday evening. He consented, upon condition that Mary should assist; and it was arranged that she should read the parts of Miranda and Ariel.

Mary is so timid, that she does not like even such a moderate exhibition: she complied, however, and they both read so delightfully, that every one perceived beauties in that play which they had never noticed before. At the end of each act we talked it over; and my uncle encouraged every one to give their opinions, which he says is the best way of compelling people to think.

My aunt said that none of Shakespeare’s plays are so perfect as to the time in which the action takes place, as the Tempest, or displays so much imagination; for, while he seems to leave one at liberty to wander through the wild and the wonderful, yet such is the correctness of his taste, that in this piece he never suffers it to pass the bounds of consistency.

Caroline was most pleased with the part of the “delicate” Ariel. “It is quite charming,” she said, “he is so well imagined: his qualities and offices and his expressions are so suitable to each other, and so nicely described by himself. Besides, he seems so amiable and good-natured to the shipwrecked strangers, that even while we consider him as the artful agent of the magician, he seems to have the qualities of almost a celestial being.”

I asked her which she liked best, Ariel, or the fairy sprites in Midsummer Night’s Dream. “Like you, Bertha, I delight in all Shakspeare’s fairy-land,” said she; “but I think Ariel in every way superior to Puck: even his tricks are more elegant and graceful, and he seems to sympathise with the people he is teasing; but Puck, however amusing, is a wild mad-cap, that revels in his antics, and ridicules the poor victims of his merry mischief. I like to think of Ariel as he ‘lies in the cowslip’s bell’--or ‘rides on the curled clouds, to do his master’s bidding,’ with such swiftness as to ‘drink the air before him.’”

My uncle praised the drawing of Caliban’s character. “Every time I read it,” said he, “I see fresh proofs of its complete originality.--Shakspeare could have had no model for such a creature--it could only be the work of his own extraordinary imagination, and it shews what powers of invention he possessed. Caliban is just what the offspring of a witch and a demon should be: he is a prodigy of cruelty and malice; and Shakspeare heightens the effect by giving him a language so poetical and yet so gross, that all he says, whether in brutal malice, or in uncouth kindness, is in perfect keeping with his general character. It expresses the instinctive barbarity of the monster; and the mind is throughout divided between the detestation excited by such a horrible being, and astonishment at the versatile genius by which it was conceived.”

“Miranda is my favourite,” said my aunt; “I am sure there is as little common-place in it as in either of the singular characters you have been praising; in hers, innocence and gentleness are the predominant features; while the union of the softest tenderness for Ferdinand with her candour and dutiful deference to her mysterious father, give it the most amiable finish; and I think the skill of Shakspeare in painting it is at least equal to that shewn in any other of the play; for the many beautiful little touches by which it is brought out, appear to me to shew more talent than when violence of passion and great strength of expression are used.”

“On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.”

I repeated these lines in Ariel’s song, and asked the meaning of “after summer.” “Some critics,” said my uncle, “have thought it should be _after sunset_, because Ariel speaks of riding on the _bat_; but commentators delight in deep and hidden meanings, and it has therefore been suggested, that as the fairy tribe dislike winter, Ariel, who is now to be restored to liberty, rejoices that he may follow summer round the globe; and therefore he is said to _fly after summer_.”

_17th._--We have been reading the life of that delightful musician, Mozart; and he is claimed by each party. But I think he can give very little support to Mary; for though his father was a teacher of music, and early began to instruct him, his rapid progress and juvenile success seem to have gone far beyond the effect of circumstances, which in a hundred cases have been the same with other musical teachers, and other children. Mozart was but four years old when his great delight was seeking for _thirds_ on the piano-forte. When five, he learned difficult pieces of music from his father so quickly, that he could immediately repeat them; and in the following year he invented little sonatas, which he played for his father, who always wrote them down to encourage him.--Music was introduced into all his sports, none of which were acceptable to him without it; and if sometimes a fondness for the usual occupations of childhood did influence his mind, yet music soon became again the favourite object.

Before he was six years of age, his father, observing him writing busily, asked what he was doing: the little boy said, he was composing a concerto for the harpsichord. The father took the paper, and laughed heartily at the blots and scribbles; but when he examined it with more attention, he shewed it to a friend with tears of delight, saying, “Look, my friend, every thing is composed according to the rules; it is a pity that the piece cannot be made use of, but it is too difficult, nobody would be able to play it.”

The progress of this wonderful child was equal to this beginning, and in various public exhibitions in Germany, and particularly at Vienna, he excited, at a very early age, the astonishment of all musical people by his science, by the correctness of his ear, and by his powerful execution.--At the age of thirteen, he composed his first opera; and you well know, Mamma, the numerous beautiful compositions which distinguished his short life; for he died at the age of thirty-six. Surely this was a genius!

_18th, Sunday._--My uncle read to us this morning the chapters which relate the humbling of Pharaoh, and the going forth of the Israelites; he afterwards said, “In the wonderful judgments inflicted on the Egyptians, and in the miraculous institution of the Passover, when the destroying angel passed over the house of every Israelite, we see, my dear children, the operation of that Being whose will controuls the elements of nature, and directs the passions of mankind.

“No human force is exercised--no Israelite lifts the sword; yet the Egyptian monarch is humbled, his people are terrified, and both urge the departure of the Israelites; who even demand and obtain from their late oppressors silver and gold, as payment for their past labours. ‘Rise up and get you forth,’ said Pharaoh, and they immediately commenced their march before his hardened mind again repented of yielding to the decrees of the Almighty.”

Wentworth asked his father how the Israelites could carry their kneading troughs on their shoulders.

“It appears,” said my uncle, “from the accounts of various travellers, that to this day the Arabs, who dwell in the countries through which the Israelites passed, are in the habit of eating unleavened cakes; and that the vessels still used there for kneading them, are small wooden bowls; these you see could be very conveniently bound up in the kneading cloths, and tied on their shoulders. The Arabs have also, among their travelling furniture, a round thick piece of leather, which they lay on the ground, and which serves them to eat upon; round it there is a row of rings, by which it is drawn together with a chain: and it hangs by a hook at the end of the chain to the side of the camel, in travelling. In this leather, they carry their meal made into dough; and when the repast is over, they wrap up in it all the fragments that remain.”

“I wonder,” said Frederick, who was looking at the map, “I wonder, heavily laden as they must have been, that they did not take the shortest road to the promised land, instead of going round about by the Red Sea.”

“The regular route to the promised land,” my uncle replied, “was certainly along the coast of the Mediterranean, towards Gaza and the other cities of Palestine, which were a portion of Canaan, and at no great distance from the Lower Egypt. But the way by which it was the divine will to lead them, was through the Red Sea; as being not only impracticable for their return, but being eminently calculated to impress them with a sense of the miraculous power which guided and protected them through the ‘deep.’”