Part 8

My uncle then went through all the other commandments, and said a great deal to us about the divine institution of the Sabbath; but when he came to the tenth, “This,” said he, “stamps the seal of divinity upon the whole Mosaic code, of which the Decalogue is the summary. No such restrictions are to be found in the laws of the most famous heathen legislators; neither Lycurgus, nor Solon, nor Justinian, interfere with the desires of the heart; they knew that human thoughts are not cognizable by human tribunals; but it was a command which naturally came from Him who both can and will ‘bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.’ How finely,” continued my uncle, “has our Saviour commented on this commandment, in his Sermon on the Mount! It is not the mere outward observance of the law that he inculcates, but the inward principle of obedience; it is the word of the law written in our hearts.”

_23rd._--The circumstance that Caroline told us lately, of the children on the desert island, in the Mississippi, naturally led to some conversation about that prodigious river, and the countries through which it flows.

We looked at its course to-day, in my uncle’s large maps of North America. He shewed us an account of it in Morse’s Geography, and he made us observe, that taking in all its windings, it is upwards of a thousand leagues in length; that it passes over twenty degrees of latitude; and, after joining with the Missouri, and receiving a multitude of smaller streams, though many of them are navigable for hundreds of miles, it pours its united waters into the Gulf of Mexico.

It is evident, he says, that the country through which it runs, was formerly inhabited by a more intelligent race than the natives now appear to be; for large mounds of earth are frequently met with near the banks of the river, within which are found the remains of pottery and other articles of a superior kind to those now in use amongst the Indians, who are in a very low state of civilization, and but thinly spread over that immense valley.

The Mississippi rises, as he shewed us, in a region of lakes and swamps, which are scattered over a table-land extending from that great ridge called the Rocky Mountains, nearly to Lake Superior, between the 48th and 49th parallel of latitude. In the first division of its course, it passes slowly and smoothly through _savannahs_, or low plains, covered with wild rice, rushes, and other aquatic plants, the rank growth of which is so great, that travellers say, that as they sat in their canoes, the adjoining forests were completely hid from their view by the lofty fields of waving grass.

In the second division, begins the granite country, with forests of elm, oak, and other lofty trees. Then come the dry _prairies_, which are the great resort of the buffalo and deer; and in which sycamore and black walnut begin to appear.

In the third division, which extends above 800 miles, the river increases vastly in breadth; flows through lime-stone rocks, and receives several tributary rivers, by some of which, boats may communicate, with short interruptions, between the Gulfs of St. Lawrence and Mexico.

Lastly begins the extensive tract of land, known by the name of the _Great Swamp_, or, as it is sometimes called, the Dismal Swamp.--Scarcely a tree or bush is to be seen for 300 miles, except the deciduous cypress, which gives a peculiar and gloomy aspect to this unhealthy region; and, to add to its horrors, it is subject to frequent earthquakes. Lower down, the banks of the river consist of clay, sand, and gravel; almost every flood undermines some parts of them, which fall in, and carry away whole fields and plantations into the stream.--From a place called Baton Rouge, which is about 140 miles above New Orleans, to the sea, they are scarcely elevated above the level of the river, and would be overflowed during the floods, but for artificial embankments, called _levées_, by which the long narrow line of plantations is defended. All beyond these embankments, is one vast level, swampy surface, covered with reeds and rushes, and totally destitute of trees. The inundations are said to have sometimes risen to the height of fifty or sixty feet.

The breaking down of a levée, with the tremendous rush of such a body of water, brings certain destruction on the neighbouring plantations. At those times, the whole surface beyond the sloping banks appears, for thousands of square miles, as one vast ocean; and only four or five years since, upwards of three hundred plantations were overwhelmed with water, and their crops totally destroyed. Very strict regulations have, therefore, been established for the prevention of this misfortune.

In these dreary plains a pretty little species of marmot is found; it is called the “Prairie-dog,” from a supposed resemblance of its cry to the hurried barking of a dog. The habits of this animal are so social, that they live together in burrows which are called “_Prairie-dog villages_,” and which sometimes spread to the extent of many miles; the entrance of each burrow is through a small mound of earth, of a foot or eighteen inches high, on the summit of which the little animals sit and bark, and flourish their tails; but they plunge in, on the least appearance of danger. In winter, they become torpid, having first securely closed up the entrance of their burrows, and made a nest of fine dry grass with a small opening just large enough to admit a finger, and so compact, that it might be rolled along the floor without injury. The burrowing owl is said to inhabit these plains also, dwelling in burrows of the same description as those of the prairie-dog.

_24th._--This day, our good friend, Mrs. P. left us--I am very sorry to lose her; and, so indeed, is every person in the house.

She had promised, you know, to tell me her history, but circumstances induced her to put it on paper, and I shall lose no time in transcribing it for your amusement, my dear mamma.

She was anxious to return to her father and mother, as her boys spent this vacation with Mr. Crispin, a very old friend.

To-morrow, as soon as the Lumleys go away, I shall begin to copy her history.

_26th._--My indulgent uncle had requested the gardener, or any one who happened to find a dormouse, to bring it to him; and Franklin, in stubbing up an old hollow root of a tree, luckily found one of those little fat creatures fast asleep. It is more plump, but very like a common mouse; the nose is blunter, and its tail is not so pointed; it is of a dun red all over, except the throat, which is white. It lay in a most comfortable little nest of woven grass, which has not been disturbed; and beside it there was a small collection of nuts and acorns.

My aunt has lent me a cage, and we shall see whether the warmth of the house can overcome its habit of sleeping during the rest of the winter; but I shall not for some days put it into a warm room; it shall be treated as if it had been frozen, and revived very gradually.

The same person, my uncle says, who tried the experiment on crickets, which I mentioned to you a fortnight ago, shut up some garden snails in a wafer-box, where he secluded them from food and water; but not from air, for he made several small holes in the box. He also put a few snails into a bottle from which all air was excluded; they, of course, died; but those in the perforated boxes retired into their shells, the aperture of which they closed with a thin membrane; and there they remained apparently dead, as long as they were kept dry. On being dropped into water of the temperature of 70°, they were found quite alive in four hours, and sticking to the plate which covered the vessel. One large snail was imprisoned for three years, and yet it revived on being put into water.

I was told a most singular instance of the length of time for which life may be suspended in those animals. Some snail-shells had for many years formed part of a little museum; one night the window of the room was left open; heavy rain beat into the case which had not been shut; and the next day, what had been considered only specimens of shells, were found crawling about the walls.

This faculty, however, is not peculiar to snails; for M. Socoloff, a Russian, found that some flies and small beetles, which had been long immersed in spirit of wine, had returned to life on being thrown into warm wood ashes. He was astonished at seeing the flies start up, and, after wiping the dust from their wings, fly away as if nothing had happened.

_29th, Sunday._--My uncle told us this morning, that the book of Leviticus was so called, because it describes the sacrifices and services of the tabernacle, which were to be performed by the tribe of Levi. He then read to us some of the chapters, and he answered in the kindest manner the questions which we all put to him, about the different offerings, and the regulations to be observed by the priests.

As he closed the book, he said, “The object of these observances has passed away with the Mosaic dispensation, and it is now only necessary to understand their general tendency. Sacrifices and offerings had been established in the infancy of mankind, and, though perverted by folly and idolatry, they continued to form a part of every worship in every country. It was the universal belief that sins could only be expiated by corresponding sacrifices of what was most valued; and gratitude for worldly blessings and riches seemed to demand some proportionate offerings.

“Sacrifices, offerings, and ceremonies were a kind of _representative_, or figurative worship. Compared with the present state of the world, the people of those days had few abstract ideas; even their arts, and sciences, and particularly their religious systems, were in a great degree described by allegories, types, and hieroglyphics; and though we can with difficulty see the connexion now, it is probable that every outward rite that was then enjoined to the Israelites, was really typical of some inward principle of virtue, or of some distinct point of faith. Taken altogether, it is certain that their object was to discipline that stubborn people into obedience--to preserve them from the surrounding idolatries--to keep them separate from all other nations, as depositaries of the revealed truth--to train them for the reception of a new dispensation--and, above all, they were designed to prefigure the great and final atoning sacrifice of the Messiah.”

_30th._--The weather has been so soft and mild for the last week, that it seems as if we had only dreamt of frost and snow. After the thaw, the ground, and even the walks, were so wet, that we could not go out of doors with any comfort, and as I had a little cold, I stayed in the house for a few days; so I was the more surprised at seeing what a change has taken place. The wheat-fields look greener than ever; the buds of the lilac and sycamore are swelling, and the woodbine leaves are actually bursting open. The flower-buds on the mezereon, which Mary showed me last September, are now opening; and a few scattered flowers, which are quite blown out, shew us their pretty pink faces, and promise a delightful smell. But, more than all, the snow-drops have already appeared, and in the sheltered spots there are many bunches of them quite opened. It is the most innocent, modest looking little flower; and with its pure and delicate white, forms a charming contrast to the dirty appearance of the walks.

The snow-drop blooms Ere winter’s storms are past, As she shrinks below Her mantle of snow And trembling shuns the blast.

_Feb. 1st._--Dreary as this season is, I find it better than I had expected; but, indeed, there is so much pursuit and rational occupation in this house, that it is impossible to feel any day gloomy.

We have now a return of frost, and besides those birds which venture into the house, there are several others which crowd round it in flocks to seek for food. Sparrows, chaffinches, and yellow-hammers are to be seen every day at the barn-doors, pecking what they can find; and Mary has shewn me the larks, sheltering themselves in the stubble; and the thrushes, blackbirds, and even fieldfares, nestling together under the hedges, as if endeavouring to console each other.

While the ground was covered with snow, I saw the black-headed titmouse come every day to a thatched shed in the yard, and with its back downwards, draw out the straws lengthways from the eaves of the shed, in order to seize the flies concealed between them; and I assure you, such numbers came to one spot, that they quite spoiled the appearance of the thatch, Mary says they are very useful in searching for the _larvæ_ of the _tortrix_, those ingenious caterpillars, that disfigure the leaves of fruit-trees by rolling them up for their houses. Gardeners, she says, are very ungrateful to these birds; for, supposing that they attack the blossoms, they are destroyed without mercy. They are, however, eaters of bees, so that they must be considered somewhat mischievous.

They are easily tamed and taught little tricks, such as drawing up a bucket. Mary placed some almonds yesterday on a sheltered bank; in a short time one of these little black-heads came, and grasping the largest of them in his claw, broke the shell by repeatedly striking it with his sharp bill, and then dexterously drew out the kernel.

My uncle walked with us to-day to Farmer Moreland’s, that we might see what out-of-door work was going on in this frosty weather. Besides drawing manure into the fields, while the ground is hard, we found his men busy in mending the hedges and fences; and now that the roads are pretty smooth, he will employ his team in carrying hay and corn to market. Afterwards, if the frost should continue, he says he will draw coals, which will be no great trouble--there are so many coal-pits in the forest. We heard the cheerful sound of the _flails_ as we passed his barn;--he was threshing out all his barley to sell for making malt. As we walked home my uncle told me the process of malting.

“Beer is, you know,” said he, “a fermented liquor, made generally from barley after it has been converted into malt; as in its natural state it would produce but an imperfect fermentation.

“The grain is first steeped for two or three days in water, that it may soak and swell to a certain degree. The water being then drained off, it is laid on the floor in a heap of about two feet high, when, with the warmth of the house and the imbibed moisture, it begins to _germinate_, and to shoot out its radicle; which is checked by spreading it out thinner, and frequently turning it over with wooden shovels to cool it. These operations require several days, and it is then thrown into the malt-kiln and slightly baked. The time it is kept there, and the heat to which the kiln is raised, depend on the kind of beer to be brewed, and the required colour for the malt; it is however enough for you to know, that from eight to twelve hours is sufficient; and that from 130° to 160° of the thermometer gives all the varieties of colour from pale ale to the brownest porter. By this process the grain undergoes a material change; it acquires a saccharine or sweet quality which it did not possess before, and which is destroyed if either the germination or the kiln-drying are carried too far. It also loses a large proportion of the mucilage that it contained; which is the reason why the flour of wheat that has been sowed in wet weather is generally bad; the grain partially heats in the stacks, a tendency to germinate takes place, and there is, therefore, a deficiency of that nutritious part, the mucilage. In this case the flour is said to be _malty_.

“This accounts for the bad paste which your aunt had some days ago; it was made of malty flour, and you know it had not the adhesive quality of good paste.”

_3rd._--How pleasant it is to find some chance circumstance relative to any subject about which we have been interested. Here is something that I found in Scoresby’s Journal; and it seems quite to agree with my uncle’s opinion.

“This night stars were seen for the first time during fifteen weeks, the sky being beautifully clear. The sea, as usual on such occasions began to freeze as soon as the sun descended within four or five degrees of the horizon, though the temperature of the air was considerably above the freezing point. Whether the heat of the water be radiated into the atmosphere, according to the theory of Dr. Wells, or whether a cold influence of the atmosphere be conveyed to the water, may be a doubtful question; but the fact, that the water more rapidly loses its heat when exposed to the full aspect of a cloudless sky, is certain. In cloudy weather no freezing of the sea ever occurs, I believe, till the temperature of the air is below 29°: but in the instance now alluded to, the freezing commenced when the temperature was 36°, being about 8° above the freezing point of sea water.”

_5th, Sunday._--My uncle said to-day that, before we quitted the subject of the Jewish sacrifices, he had a few more observations to make, to which he requested our attention.

“In a worldly point of view,” he said, “the punctual performance of all those rites, and a strict obedience to the ceremonial law, were the terms on which the Israelites were to inherit the land of Canaan; and in a spiritual sense they were to be considered as the means of sharing the benefit of that great sacrifice of Christ which was to lead to the inheritance of the heavenly Canaan. The institution of animal sacrifice had continued until the giving of the law, no offering but that of an animal being mentioned in scripture up to this period, except that of Cain, which was rejected. But when the law was ordained, we find that the connexion between animal sacrifice and atonement was clearly and distinctly announced; and that certain prescribed offerings were to be accepted as the means of deliverance from the penal consequences of sin.

“He who presented a sin-offering was commanded to lay his hands upon the head of the animal, as a confession of his own guilt, and as an acknowledgment that the punishment he deserved was, by the gracious forbearance of God, transferred to the victim. On these terms the offering was accepted, and a conditional pardon granted. The Hebrew word for sin-offering includes the sense of cleansing, expiating, and making satisfaction; and therefore every sin-offering, 1st, implied contrition and repentance; 2dly, an humble hope of averting a just chastisement by this figurative retribution;--and 3rdly, a firm belief in the efficacy of the great final atonement. The Jews well knew,” added my uncle, “that none of these sacrifices had in themselves sufficient value to clear the criminal, or to procure his pardon; they knew that they were only instituted as a public avowal of his crime, and as a type of the perfect expiation to be afterwards made by Christ for the sins of mankind.

“It was indeed the object of all the sacrifices of the Mosaic ritual, to impress the people with the necessity of expiation, even for involuntary offences; and to fix in their minds that awful maxim, as St. Paul expresses it, that ‘without shedding of blood there is no remission.’ This lesson was inculcated in the earliest sacrifice upon record--when respect was had to Abel’s sacrifice of the firstlings of his flock, rather than to the husbandman’s offering of the fruit of his ground; and afterwards in the covenant with Noah, as well as in various parts of the Mosaic law, where blood was in the most absolute way prohibited to be eaten, as being a holy thing consecrated to the purpose of general expiation. This expiatory virtue, however, the apostles emphatically say, belonged not to the blood of bulls and of goats, but to the blood of Christ, of which the other was only a temporary emblem.”

My uncle then read to us the several parts of Scripture to which he had alluded; and he added, that though we are now ignorant of the particular object of the ceremonies and minute directions for the sacrifices and offerings, we may perceive that solemnity and reverence were strongly enforced in all, with an exactness of obedience to lesser regulations, which shews that neither must we neglect the smaller duties while we obey the ‘weightier matters of the law.’

_6th._--A number of curious circumstances were mentioned at breakfast in a conversation on the force of habit, not only in animals, but in vegetables; and my uncle thinks it is a subject on which further inquiry would not be more interesting to the philosopher than useful to the farmer and gardener. I have only time to write a very little of what he said.

He told us that there are several plants, which have been naturalised in cold climates by bringing them there step by step. Rice he gave as one instance: it is a native of the East Indies, within the torrid zone, but was early cultivated in South Carolina, the Canaries, and the northern parts of Africa; and about a hundred years ago it was sown in Italy. It has ever since been creeping towards the north of Europe, and there are now very large plantations of rice on the banks of the Weser. It is, however, necessary in Germany to use the seed which has been ripened there; that of Carolina will not thrive at all, and Italian seed but indifferently, being destitute of that power of withstanding cold, which the German rice has acquired by habit.

Another example of the gradual effect of habit on plants my uncle learned from the late Dr. Walker. The Brazilian passion-tree is, you know, an evergreen in its native country; but when the Doctor was a boy in 1773, some plants of it near Edinburgh annually lost their leaves. During his life, however, they became gradually enured to the climate; and he says that in his latter years, in sheltered situations, they have retained their foliage through the whole winter.

I asked my uncle whether those plants, which have come from a warmer region, and are naturalised here, flower later in this climate than in their own.

“The times of the appearance of vegetables in the spring seem,” said he, “to be influenced by early acquired habits, as well as by sensibility to heat. That same Dr. Walker, whom I mentioned a few minutes ago, had some very singular ideas on this subject: his opinion was, that plants removed from one climate to another, generally observe their original season of flowering, unless prevented by some powerful cause. The climate of Spain and Portugal in December and January suits the flowering of the laurestinus; and you have seen that the cold of Gloucestershire in those months was not sufficient to deter it from following its old habits. In the northern parts of Scotland, however, it does not flower till April. Dr. Walker thought the flowering of any shrub in winter in this climate was an indubitable proof of its not being a native; and he therefore supposes the arbutus to have been a native of Iceland: in the fact, I believe, he is right; but, when the similarity of the climates is considered, it is rather a whimsical proof of his doctrine.

“He gives, however, several instances of plants brought from the southern hemisphere, which flower there at the time that the sun is in the tropic of Capricorn, and which adhere in this country to their old December rule, without obeying the influence of the sun when in Cancer.”

I afterwards met my uncle in the garden, where he showed me an immense quantity of buds on the peach trees, and took great pains in teaching me the difference between the flower buds and leaf buds--the former short, thick, broad and full, with a downy covering;--the leaf buds much less downy, longer, and not so thick. In a few weeks, he says, I am to see these trees in full flower, notwithstanding this wintery weather.