Part 5

Attempts have been made to prove that they have come from India; and it is said, that near the mouth of the Indus there is a people called Zinganès. A learned German also has traced several points of resemblance between the common language of the gipsies, and the dialect of a district in Hindostan; for instance, all words ending in _j_ are feminine in both languages, and both add the article to the end of the word.

These extraordinary creatures, my uncle added, may be found in every country, from the western extremity of Europe to the easternmost parts of Siberia; and in all, preserve their wild strolling habits, their filthy modes of eating, their pretended power of fortune telling, their expertness in petty thefts, and their love of intoxication.--In each country too, they elect a chief, whom they dignify by some high-sounding title, such as king, count, or lord, though never very obedient to his will; and as one set off against their numerous vices, they are generally extremely fond of their children.

_3rd._--Mrs. P. has been here now for several days, which have been happy days to all, for she is so pleasing and gentle, and so mild, that all like her.

She told me yesterday one thing, which, though it may look like vanity to repeat, yet I know will gratify you so much, my own dear mamma, that I cannot conceal it. She says, that she thinks me improved in many respects in the few months that have passed since I left her. “Very much in your manner and carriage; and above all,” she added, “you seem to have lost the appearance of indolence that you had. I am rejoiced to see that you have acquired that power of exertion, which is so useful both to young and old--and that you have the will, as well as the power, to conquer little habits that are disagreeable to your friends. I know,” said she, “you will excuse me for saying this; for I feel a real interest in your welfare, and I have myself suffered so much from a foolish indifference to the opinion of others about what I considered _trifles_, that I am always pleased when I see young people endeavour to avoid the rock on which I split.”

I could not help shewing some surprise at this, for I thought it very unlike her character; and though I did not venture to express any curiosity, I suppose she saw a little in my countenance, for after some more conversation she said, that she would give me a little sketch of her life, because she thought I might derive some advantage from it.

We had not time to begin then--but I hope we shall to-morrow. In the mean time I must not forget to tell you, lest you should think I had lost all honourable principle, that I immediately informed Mrs. P. of the kind of journal which I send to you--and asked her permission to relate to you what she tells me; “but,” said I, “if you disapprove, I will not mention it.” She replied, “you are perfectly welcome to tell her every thing--for I very much disapprove of any confidence being made to a young person that is to be concealed from her mother.”

_5th._--There was a lively little discussion last night, on the want of originality in poetical ideas; and on the manner in which the same thought is repeated by one author after another; each altering it, as my uncle said, in the same way that an object is seen through glasses of different colours. Or, said my aunt, with its original strength weakened by each repetition, like the successive reflections of the same object from a number of mirrors. And, though I did not venture it below stairs, you shall have my simile: like the Fata Morgana, where the objects reflected from the surface of the sea are again reflected from the clouds, but less distinct and generally inverted.

The conversation began by my uncle and aunt, and Mrs. P., and by degrees my cousins joined. A great distinction was made between gross plagiarism, and the borrowing a part only of an idea which the author weaves up with something new, and then places in a new light.

My aunt brought, as an example, these lines in the Lady of the Lake.

The sun, awakening, through the smoky air Of the dark city, casts a sullen glance, Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, Of sinful man the sad inheritance; Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, Scaring the prowling robber in his den; Gilding on battled tower the warder’s lance; And warning student pale to leave his pen, And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men.

She said, these lines seemed to have been produced, perhaps unconsciously, by a speech of Shakspeare’s Richard II.

---- Know’st thou not, That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, In murders, and in outrage bloody, here; But when from under this terrestrial ball, He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, And darts his light through every guilty hole; Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, The cloak of night being pluck’d from off their backs, Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves.

In this case they all agreed that an author might insensibly dwell on an idea, alter, dress, and add to it, till he was no longer aware whence the original thought had come--as in a large company, a single word which happens to come to our ears from a group in another part of the room produces sometimes an interesting conversation, though none of the party engaged in it know well how it began.

Mrs. P. said that similar turns of thought and expression may be traced back through the whole chain of poets; and that if Homer appears to be an original genius, it is because we cannot now compare him with his predecessors. Few of our old writers were less exposed to the charge of borrowing than Spenser, and yet she could not help imagining that the Persian tale of Fadlallah was the origin of those pretty stanzas in the Faërie Queene, where the dove who watches over Belphœbe and her despairing swain, contrives that they shall once more be reconciled.

Mary said she thought it had more resemblance to the story of Camaralzaman, in the Arabian Nights, who was enticed from hill to hill in pursuit of the bird who had carried off the princess’s talisman. “That cruel bird,” said she, “leads Camaralzaman away only to separate him from his beloved princess; but the same idea in Spenser’s hands becomes a hundred times more beautiful. The dove is represented as the constant and tender companion of the youth who had long languished in grief for the loss of his Belphœbe; his ‘dole’ is soothed by the caresses and sympathy of the bird; and at last, in order to gaze at a ruby heart, which she had given him in happier times, he fastens it round its neck. Away flies the kind-hearted dove, who gains the notice of Belphœbe, and gently winning her forward in pursuit of the well-known ruby, succeeds in restoring the long-parted lovers to each other.”

Mrs. P. acknowledged that Mary’s opinion was more just than her own; and my aunt, looking at me, said, “I think I see in Bertha’s countenance that she has not read the Faërie Queene: suppose, Caroline, you were to refresh our recollections, and read those pretty stanzas for your cousin.”

Caroline did so; and as I know you have not Spenser among your books, and as his old-fashioned style will amuse Marianne, I will transcribe the two last stanzas, where Belphœbe, attracted by her jewel, follows the benevolent bird.

She, her beholding with attentive eye, At length did marke about her purple brest That precious iuell, which she formerly Had knowne right well, with colourd ribbands drest: Therewith she rose in hast, and her addrest With ready hand it to have reft away; But the swift bird obayd not her behest, But swarv’d aside, and there againe did stay; She followed her, and thought againe it to assay.

And ever when she nigh approcht, the dove Would flit a little forward, and then stay Till she drew neare, and then againe remove; So tempting still her to pursue the prey, And still from her escaping soft away; Till that at length into that forrest wide She drew her far, and led with slow delay; In th’ end she her unto that place did guide Whereat that woful man in languor did abide.

_7th._--My curiosity about frost has been gratified. Each of the last three nights the thermometer has been below the freezing point--last night it was 28°. The ground is hard, and grass, trees, and shrubs, are quite white. Nothing can be more beautiful--each blade of grass sparkling with gems, every branch and spray covered with delicate crystals, and the leaves of the fir-trees hanging like little miniature icicles.

I asked my uncle where the frost comes from. “It is in fact,” said he, “frozen dew; when the ground is cooled down to 32°, the dew deposited on it is congealed, and becomes hoar frost. This often happens when the temperature of the atmosphere is much higher; and I have seen a copious hoar frost in a clear calm night, though the air was not colder than 40°.”

When I begged my uncle to explain that, he told me that, from the satisfactory observations of Dr. Wells, it appears that the heat which the earth receives from the sun in the day is returned or _radiated_ back again from the earth during the night, and is dispersed in the sky; the surface of the earth thus becomes cold from its sudden loss of heat, and congeals the dew. The cold produced by this radiation of heat from the earth, is always less if any substance be interposed between it and the sky; not only a solid body, but even a fog, or clouds, have this effect, because they intercept the heat, and perhaps again send back a portion of it to the earth; and this, he added, is the reason why a bright clear night is generally colder than a cloudy night.

I asked my uncle if that was also the reason that such slight substances, as straw or mats, are found to protect tender plants from cold?

“Yes,” said he; “I used to wonder how such thin, open things as Russia mats could prevent plants from becoming of the same temperature as the atmosphere; but when I learned that all bodies at night give out their heat by radiating it, unless some covering be interposed, which acts, not by keeping out the cold, but by preventing their heat from flying off, then I perceived the reason of what before had appeared to me to be almost useless.”

He described several experiments he had tried to satisfy himself on this subject. He found that even a cambric handkerchief was sufficient; and that when raised a few inches in the air, the warmth of the grass beneath was 3° greater than that of a neighbouring piece of grass which was sheltered by a similar handkerchief actually in contact with it. All his experiments confirmed those of Dr. Wells, and shewed that by placing substances for the shelter of plants, not directly touching them, the effect was increased. Snow acts in the same manner as a preservative of plants when the ground is not already frozen.

Some other experiments my uncle then described, and he endeavoured to make me understand Dr. Wells’s general opinions on the formation of dew. He also mentioned the curious method they have in India of forming artificial ice in earthen-ware pans, where the temperature of the air is even 12 or 14 degrees above the freezing point. He concluded by saying, “I do not tell you all these particulars, Bertha, merely to stuff your memory with philosophical shreds and patches, but to excite your mind to observation and inquiry, which is a hundred times more useful.”

_8th, Sunday._--The _Ephod_ being mentioned in a part of the Scripture I was reading this morning, I asked my uncle to describe it, for I had but a confused idea of the dress of the high priest. He says the name is derived from a Hebrew word, signifying _to tie_. It was made of linen, and brought from behind the back, over each shoulder; and then crossing the breast, it was passed round the waist so as to form a girdle; the two ends hanging down before. The _Breast-plate of Judgement_, which was so called because the high priest wore it only when he went to consult the Divine Majesty, was made of the same materials as the ephod; and being two spans in length by one in breadth, it formed a square when doubled. The span, he says, was half a cubit, or about ten inches.

I then begged of my uncle to explain the nature of the _Urim_ and _Thummim_. He told me that the words signify _light_ and _perfection_; but as Moses does not appear to have received directions for making them, it is impossible now to form any distinct idea of the materials of which those sacred ornaments were composed, or of the manner in which they were employed, in order to obtain answers from the mercy-seat in the Tabernacle. The opinions of the learned have therefore been very various on those points: the Jews think they consisted of precious stones, which were so arranged that the partial brilliancy of certain characters engraved on them pointed out the required reply. Others suppose that they were merely parts of the grand dress, which qualified the high priest to present himself in the holy place on great occasions. But the question is of little importance to us; like many other mysteries attending the Divine ordinances, we vainly endeavour to penetrate their meaning: we may, however, feel assured, Bertha, that if these things were necessary to be understood by us, they would have been fully explained. Many ceremonies in the ritual given to the Israelites, were adapted to them as a people who had lived amongst the heathens, and who had imbibed those prejudices and depravities of heathen worship, which were so totally removed from every thing spiritual. To us they may be objects of rational curiosity; but a knowledge of their use or precise fabric could add no essential testimony to the well-established truths of Scripture History.

“There is, however, one mode of viewing the subject, from which we may derive a useful hint: the high priest could not address the Almighty when divested of this emblem of light and perfection; in like manner our addresses to God will be of no use, unless we also are adorned, not indeed with the _emblem_ of light, but with the true light of the Gospel; with that clear and bright faith which makes us feel the power and goodness of Him to whom we pray.”

_9th._--The beautiful hoar-frost at first gave to every twig and blade of grass the modest, quiet appearance of a wreath of pearls; but last night there was a slight shower of rain, and now every thing is glittering like diamonds. We observed, also, another peculiarly pretty circumstance: the wet being immediately frozen, every thing was enveloped with thin transparent ice, through which the leaves, and berries, and branches, were distinctly seen. Mary immediately repeated these lines:

Every shrub, and every blade of grass, And every pointed thorn seem’d wrought in glass; In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, While through the ice the crimson berries glow.

Already the birds are become tame, and many venture courageously to take crumbs off the window-stones. Poor little birds, this bright clear air, and sunshine, make every body else look gay, while they sit shivering or sadly chirping on the trees; even the hens and ducks look swelled and melancholy.

We walked to-day to Franklin’s farm, and found him taking advantage of the hardened ground, to put out manure; he had two carts employed, and all the people seemed trying to keep themselves warm by hard work.

The field which had been left to remain _fallow_, will be much improved by this frost, he says. It was a coarse, wet soil, full of lumps of heavy clay; and he shewed us how much these lumps were already broken. My uncle said that the soil being thus divided, and pulverised, would be greatly meliorated; so, as we walked home, I asked him why the lumps of wet clay were broken by frost, which I thought would only have hardened them the more, like the road on which we were walking.

“The reason why the clods of wet earth are burst by the frost, is, that the water which they contain becomes ice; and, in doing so, it swells, and therefore requires greater space than while it was water. In the process of freezing, water crystallizes, and every crystal drives away the adjacent particles which interfere with its exact formation. This does not happen to hard roads, such as we are now walking upon, because they are closely _bound_, and do not admit the previous entrance of the moisture; but if the road was soft and spongy, you would then probably see, in its rough and uneven face, the effect of the frozen water. When we return home, if you look at the piece of gravel walk which was lately made, and is not, therefore, yet bound, you will observe what a curious appearance the frost gives it; the larger stones, which by their weight prevented the water from spreading under them, will appear sunk; while the sandy, spongy part which imbibed the rain, is swelled by the frost, and raises the surface of the walk. All crystals have a regular form, and in assuming it, they are obliged to recede a little from each other; each crystal, it is true, has but little power, but as their number is almost infinite, their combined power is so great, that what is called in military language a _shell_, that is, a hollow ball of strong cast iron, if filled with water and the aperture well secured, will burst when the water freezes. When such is the expansive power excited by water as it passes into the state of ice, we cannot be surprised that jugs and bottles of water are frequently broken in a frosty night--and that water pipes constantly burst when the frost penetrates to them.”

_10th._--The frost was so great last night, that it caused sad mischief. The thermometer sunk to 24°. Mary had two nice hyacinths in bottles; unfortunately, she placed them yesterday in a window where there was a bright sunshine; Frederick having promised to put them back safely in the latter part of the day. He forgot them; but, as soon as he woke this morning, he went to repair his error--when, to his great dismay, he found the glasses burst, and the water lumps of ice.

He went to Mary, but he was so sorry for his negligence, that she could not reproach him. The only thing to be done, she said, is now to consider how to relieve the bulbs from the ice that surrounds them. Frederick proposed placing them near the fire, that the heat might thaw the ice; but Mary told him that she was afraid the sudden change from cold to heat would make the bulbs decay--and that the best plan, she thought, was to put them into cold water. Mary had called me to look at the glasses on the first discovery of the misfortune; and we carried them and the bulbs inclosed in ice, to my uncle, who had just come down to the library, to consult him on what was best to be done. He approved of Mary’s proposal, and said, “That is a practical instance of the advantage of acquiring different kinds of knowledge.” Mary had concluded, that the sudden change of temperature would produce immediate decay in the roots--on the same principle that heat applied to people who have been frost bitten, causes mortification in the frozen part. My uncle afterwards told me, that the same thing happens to the frozen buds of tender plants, which are exposed to the rays of a hot sun before the frost has been dispersed; while those which are gradually thawed receive no injury.

I reminded him of his having spoken of _crystals_ of ice, and asked how that term could be applied to any thing but mineral bodies.

“The term crystal,” he replied, “came from the Greek word for ice--it was afterwards applied to rock crystal, which the ancients imagined to be water converted into stone; but it now signifies the regular figure in which the particles of any substance arrange themselves in passing from the liquid to the solid state.--Each of those substances has a figure for its crystal peculiar to itself, and from which it never varies. Common salt, for instance, dissolved in water, and slowly evaporated, always forms regular _cubic_ crystals of about an eighth of an inch in diameter, and quite transparent; sugar candy is nothing but sugar crystallized into _six_-sided prisms; and alum forms itself into beautiful crystals of _eight_ sides. All this you may easily ascertain for yourself by experiment; and when I have an opportunity of taking you to a smelting house, you will see that in the cooling of melted metals, each metal assumes a crystalline shape belonging to itself.”

I asked how, and when, all the crystals and precious stones and salts in the world could ever have been in a fluid state.

“One thing at a time,” said my uncle: “that question would lead us quite away from ice. I was going to tell you, that water, in the same manner as salt or metals, when it ceases to be fluid, which happens at the temperature of 32° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer, assumes a constant regular form. Now, Bertha,” he said, “examine this lump of ice, which was in the broken glass, both with and without your magnifying glass--and tell me how it appears.”

I told him, that to my naked eye it seemed as if there were lines crossing and recrossing one another in an uneven manner; but that, with the glass, it appeared like a collection of little spears with pointed ends, laid very closely together and mostly darting from the places where the ice had touched either the bulb or the side of the glass vessel.

“Yes,” said my uncle, “that is what I wished you to observe;--when ice begins to form on the surface of water, several of those spear-shaped _spicula_ shoot from the edge of whatever contains the water, or from any solid body which happens to be in the water,--a bit of wood or even a straw.”

I interrupted my uncle to beg he would explain the word spicula--I know he is never displeased at being interrupted by a question of that sort.

He told me that _spiculum_ is a Latin word, and means a dart or an arrow, or sometimes the sting of a bee,--_spicula_ is the plural, and is commonly used in English to express any small pointed bodies.

“To return to the ice,” said he: “that first set of spicula serve as bases for a new set, and these again for others; each single spiculum diverges or spreads from its own base at an angle of nearly 60°, and therefore they all cross each other in an infinite variety of directions, and this process continues till one even sheet of ice is formed.” I asked my uncle, if the reason why the ice occupies more space than the water was, that those spicula or crystals, from their shape, and from shooting in various directions, cannot lie so closely together as the minute particles of water.--

“Yes,” said he, “you are perfectly right--a proof of this is, that it requires great power to compress water in the smallest degree; while the hardest ice, if pounded, may be easily forced into a smaller space.”

We all again examined the formation of the ice in the broken glasses, and I saw the pretty little spicula quite distinctly--we then went to breakfast, leaving the bulbs to thaw quietly in their cold bath.

_11th._--After the hyacinth roots were thawed yesterday, they were placed in a warm room; and we had a great deal of conversation about the different effects of heat and cold, according to the different bodies that are exposed to them. I learned that extreme heat is necessary to liquefy steel, platina, or porcelain; some metals require far less, and Mrs. P. says she once bought in a toy shop, some spoons made of bismuth, tin and lead, which melted in a cup of hot tea. The warmth of the skin is sufficient to thaw frozen water. On the other hand, the degree of cold requisite to render mercury solid is very great, while that which forms ice is moderate.