Chapter 3

CAMBRIAN CONVIVIALITY.

"Cloth must we wear, Eat beef, and drink beer, Though the dead go to bier."

_Old Ballad._

There is something refreshing, and not a little inspiriting, in the scanty relics of those hearty customs and pastimes which imparted such a manly tone to the character of our ancestors; but now, like the ruined castle, or the old ivied abbey, they have become objects of admiration rather than sources of delight. Fifty years ago, the inhabitants of North Wales, a rude and blunt race even now, were far less sophisticated by modern refinement than they are at present; and it was then a common matter for the _Penteulu_, or head of the family, to dine in the large stone hall of the mansion--he and his own particular friends at a table, raised on a _Dais_--and his numerous tenants and dependants at another table running the whole length of the said hall. Then came the wassailing--worthy of the days of Arthur--wine for the upper table; ale, medd, (_mead_,) and spirits for the other; and after all came the friendly contest at some manly game--wrestling, racing, pitching the bar, or the like. At a period somewhat later, these boisterous pastimes began to degenerate; and the Welsh squire became more polished, but not, perhaps, more happy. Still the custom of inordinate potation fondly clung to him. Immediately contiguous to every mansion of any magnitude was erected a summerhouse, usually situated in a spot, selected for the beauty of the scene which it commanded; and to this _sanctum_ did the gentlemen retire after dinner, to enjoy, unrestrained by the presence of the ladies, a full indulgence in that boisterous carousal, which their bluff hearts so dearly loved. But these good and glorious customs have died the death, and gone the way, of all perishable things; _they_ are gone, as are those jovial souls who gave them life and buoyancy; but the eternal hills, which echoed to their merriment and glee--they remain unaltered by time, and unshaken by the storms which have passed over them.

Yet is there still much jovial heartiness in the festive revelry of the mountaineers. One scene, in which I was a participator, I will endeavour to portray--it is impressed on my memory by more than one token of grateful reminiscence. It was in the summer of 1825 that I left London for a few weeks, and sought among my native hills a reparation of the wear and tear of half-a-dozen years of hard and unceasing toil. Two days after my arrival In Merionethshire was celebrated the birthday of Robert Williams Vaughan, Esq., of Nannau, the only son of Sir Robert Williams Vaughan, Bart., and member for the county; a gentleman of whom it may be truly said, that his heart is replete with every noble and benevolent attribute, and that his mind is dignified by practical wisdom, sound sense, and energy to direct, for the benefit of his dependents, the fine and Christian virtues which he possesses. "Come up to Nannau," is his encouraging address to the labourer, when the hardships of winter are pressing upon the poor: "Come up to Nannau, show me that you are willing to work, and I will give you your wages." It is for benevolence like this, well and usefully exercised, that Sir Robert Vaughan is especially remarkable, as well also for all those qualities which adorn and dignify the British country gentleman. Always careful of the welfare, habits, and comforts of the poor around him; patronizing the industry, ingenuity, and good conduct of his more humble countrymen, and ministering to the wants of the sick and the poor; hospitable in the extreme; kind, affable, and friendly to all, he fulfils in every respect the happy duties of the wealthy British landholder; and by his generous courtesy he has ensured to himself the perfect esteem of every person who knows him. Living in the midst of a cheerful and contented tenantry, the chieftain as it were of a devoted clan, the proprietor of Nannau may be truly termed a happy man. The empty blandishments of the world have no charms for him, nor have its ephemeral pleasures any allurement; for, like the gallant knight of Peugwern, when invited by Henry the Seventh to share the honors of his court, for services rendered at Bosworth Field, he would meekly but promptly reply, "Sire! I love to dwell among mine own people." Such is Sir Robert Vaughan of Nannau, whose memory will be long and fondly cherished by those who have enjoyed his friendship, and witnessed his calm, manly, and useful virtues.

We sat down to dinner, about forty in number, occupying two tables placed parallel to each other, in the spacious dining-room of the mansion. Choice fish of every kind; venison from Nannau Park, celebrated for the delicious flavour of its fat bucks; mountain-mutton, from the fertile pastures of Llanfachreth; the noble sirloin, and, in fact, every substantial delicacy that wealth could procure, pressed even to groaning the broad tables of our host; while the harper in the hall twanged his instrument with a force and a fury, that plainly showed his previous intimacy with the good cheer of the place. But noble and magnificent as our entertainment was in the eating department, it was infinitely surpassed by that which was devoted to the orgies of Bacchus. No sooner was the brief and scarcely audible grace pronounced by the chaplain, than in marched old Pearson, the gray-headed butler, bearing in each hand a goblet, in form like an acorn, and fashioned of the dark polished oak of the far-famed Spirits-Blasted Tree,[7] richly ornamented with appropriate silver emblems. One of these was placed reversed by the side of the president and _croupier_ of each table, and presently afterwards flanked by a huge silver tankard of foaming ale, strong enough almost to blow into the air a first-rate man-of-war. Filling this goblet, which held very nearly a pint, the president made his speech to the health and happiness of the young 'squire, and draining it dry, passed it on to his left-hand neighbour. The _croupier_ did the same, and like the great bear of Bradwardine, did the acorn of Nannau begin to make its rounds, in a manner quite as fearful to me as was the terrific approach of the bear aforesaid to the heir of Waverley Honor. Unfortunately for me, I sat between two determined and well-seasoned topers, who took especial care that I should not only fill to each toast, but drain the cup to the very bottom; so that, novice as I was in this sort of hilarity, I found myself, in a very short time, lying down under a laburnum tree in the lawn, and composing myself very comfortably--no, not _very_ comfortably--to sleep. I had my sleep, however; and when I awoke and re-entered the house, a merry group of guests had surrounded the harper in the hall, and were singing Penillion at full stretch, to the now unsteady and somewhat discordant accompaniment of the minstrel; the laugh was of course against me, but good-nature, rather than contempt, characterised the bantering, and I bore it all in good part. The party broke up about eleven, and before midnight I was at home, after a magnificent walk of three miles, over the mountains, in the moonlight. _The Inspector._

[7] This was an old blasted oak, standing a few years ago in Nannau Park, to the infinite horrification of the honest mountaineers. Tradition had imbued it with a terrible and awful influence--for, some four or five hundred years ago, the gigantic skeleton of a warrior was found incased in its trunk, and grasping with its bony fingers a long and ponderous sword. It was blown down one stormy night, and the wood has been manufactured into a variety of articles.

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THE SELECTOR, AND LITERARY NOTICES OF _NEW WORKS_.

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NEW SOUTH WALES.

The following observations, recorded in Mr. Cunningham's _Two Years in New South Wales_, are as valuable as they are interesting; for hitherto we have known but little of the natural history of that country:--

_Trees_.--Trees here appear to follow the same laws as other vegetable substances, regarding the effects they produce upon the soil wherein they grow. It has long been remarked in America, that on the forests being cut down, young trees of a different species sprout up in place of the old ones; and here the same remark, in a great measure, holds good,--acacias very commonly making their appearance on land that has been once under cultivation, and afterwards permitted to relapse into a state of nature. From this circumstance it should seem, that trees, like other vegetables, extract a particular substance from the ground, which substance it is necessary should be restored before the same species of tree can be readily grown a second time,--a restoration to be effected, perhaps, by such chemical changes in the constituent particles of the soil as may arise from the cultivation of other species.

_Fruits_.--Of native fruits, we possess raspberries equal in flavour and not otherwise distinguishable from the English. They grow plentifully on the alluvial banks of Hunter's river, and supply a yearly Christmas feast to the birds. Oar native currants are strongly acidulous, like the cranberry, and make an excellent preserve when mixed with the raspberry. They grow on low shrubs not higher than the whortleberry bush. Our cherries are destitute both of pleasant taste and flavour, and have the stone adhering to their outside. Our native pears are tolerably tempting to the look, but defy both mastication and digestion, being the pendulous seed-pods of a tree here, and their outer husks of such a hard woody consistence, as to put the edge of even a well-tempered knife to proof of its qualities in slicing them down. The burwan is a nut much relished by our natives, who prepare it by roasting and immersion in a running stream, to free it from its poisonous qualities. The jibbong is another tasteless fruit, as well as the _five-corners_, much relished by children. The wild potato strongly resembles the species now in use in Europe, but the stem and leaf are essentially different. It grows on the loose flooded alluvial margins of the rivers, and at one period of the year composes the chief sustenance of the natives, having the watery look and taste of the yam. Of foreign fruits now climatized we possess a great variety. Here are oranges, lemons, citrons, nectarines, apricots, peaches, plums, cherries, figs, loquats, grenadillos, quinces, pears, apples, mulberries, pomegranates, grapes, olives, raspberries, strawberries, bananas, guavas, pineapples, and English and Cape gooseberries and currants. Of shell-fruits we have the almond, walnut, chestnut, and filbert; and of other garden fruits, strawberries, melons, peppers, &c.

Melons and pumpkins will absolutely overrun you, if you do not give them most bounteous scope, and you need want neither water nor musk-melons for six or eight months yearly on an average, if you duly time the sowings. Nothing can exceed their rich juiciness and flavour, and the rapidity of their growth is almost miraculous, when a few showers of rain temper the hot days. The pumpkin makes an excellent substitute for the apple in a pie, when soured and sweetened to a proper temper by lemons and sugar. The black children absolutely dance and scream when they see one, pumpkin and sugar being their delight. To the half of a shrivelled pumpkin hanging at the door of my tent on my first essay in settling, one of our sooty satyrs could do nothing for some minutes but fidget and skip; and with his eyes sparkling, and countenance beaming with ecstacy, exclaim, "Dam my eye, _pambucan_; dam my eye, _pambucan_!" such being the nearest point they can attain to the right pronunciation of their favourite _fruit_.

_Birds_.--We are not moved here with the deep mellow note of the blackbird, poured out from beneath some low stunted bush; nor thrilled with the wild warblings of the thrush, perched on the top of some tall sapling; nor charmed with the blithe carol of the lark as we proceed early afield; none of our birds at all rivalling these divine songsters in realising the poetical idea of the "music of the grove;" while "parrots' chattering" must supply the place of "nightingales' singing" in the future amorous lays of our sighing Celadons. We have our lark certainly, but both his appearance and note are a most wretched parody upon the bird our English poets have made so many fine similes about. He will mount from the ground, and rise fluttering upward in the same manner, and with a few of the starting notes of the English lark; but on reaching the height of thirty feet or so, down he drops suddenly and mutely, diving into concealment among the long grass, as if ashamed of his pitiful attempt. For the pert, frisky robin, pattering and pecking against the windows in the dull days of winter, we have the lively "superb warbler," with his blue shining plumage and his long tapering tail, picking up the crumbs at our doors; while the pretty little redbills, of the size and form of the goldfinch, constitute the sparrow of our clime, flying in flocks about our houses, and building their soft downy pigmy nests in the orange, peach, and lemon trees surrounding them. Nor are we without our rural noters of the time, to call us to our early task, and warn us of evening's close. The loud and discordant noise of the _laughing jackass_, (or _settler's clock_, as he is called,) as he takes up his roost on the withered bough of one of our tallest trees, acquaints us that the sun has just dipped behind the hills, and that it is time to trudge homewards; while the plaintive notes of the curlew, and the wild and dismal screechings of the flying squirrel, skimming from branch to branch, whisper us to retire to our bedchambers. In the morning, again, the dull monotonous double note of the _whee-whee_, (so named from the sound of its calls,) chiming in at as regular intervals as the tick of a clock, warns us to rub our eyes and con over the tasks of the impending day, as it is but half an hour to dawn; till again the loud laughter of the _jackass_ summons us to turn out, and take a peep at the appearance of the morning, which just begins to glimmer beyond the dusky outline of the eastern hills.

_Animals_.--Our wild animals are numerous, but few of them carnivorous, and none of a size to endanger human life. The _native dog_ is generally believed to be an importation, being deficient of the false uterus or pouch characterising all our other quadrupeds. He closely resembles the Chinese dog in form and appearance, being either of a reddish or dark colour, with shaggy hair, long bushy tail, prick ears, large head, and slightly tapering nose; in size he reminds one of a shepherd's dog, running with considerable speed, and snapping in attack or defence. He does not bark, but howls in melancholy sort, when prowling in quest of prey, and has a strong and peculiar odour, which makes European dogs shy at first of attacking him, doubtless intimidated too by his snapping mode of fighting; for it is observed of poodles, and all which snap, that few other dogs are fond of engaging them. He is most destructive on breaking in among a flock of sheep, as he bites a piece out of every one he seizes; not holding fast and worrying dead like the fox, but snapping at all he can overtake, till twenty or thirty may be killed by one dog, there being something so peculiarly venomous in their bite that few recover from it. Their cross with the tame dog forms a very useful breed for emu-hunting, and many even of the pure ones are caught young, tamed by the natives, and bred up to hunt emus and kangaroos. They have as many pups as the tame dog, littering either in some hollow log, deserted ant-hill, hole in the ground, or thick brush. They will hunt, kill, and devour a tame dog also, if a troop of them can catch him alone. A settler in the interior informed me, that, while out hunting one morning, he observed his dog running direct towards him at full speed, with two large native dogs close at his heels; and so eager were they to seize their prey, that his own dog was actually sheltered between his legs, and the native dogs within pistol-shot, before they perceived their danger. Hence he was enabled to shoot one of them. The native cat is the only other carnivorous animal we possess; but its depredations extend no farther than the poultry-yard. It is small and long-bodied, with a long tail, claws like a common cat, a nose like a pig, striped down the sides with brown and black, and dotted over with white spots. It climbs trees and preys on birds while they sleep, being a night animal.

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FARM-HOUSES ON THE SNEEUWBERG MOUNTAINS.

The farm-houses in the Sneeuwberg, and in most of the colder districts of the colony, are usually of the following description:--The house resembles a large barn divided into two or three apartments. One of these is the kitchen, which also serves for the sitting and eating apartment. In the others the family sleep; while, in the outer one already mentioned, visiters and travellers are accommodated with a rush mat, a feather bed, and a coverlet spread on the clay floor. In this situation I have often enjoyed, after a fatiguing day's ride, the most balmy repose; while a swarthy train of slaves and Hottentots were moving round the embers of the fire, wrapped in their sheepskin mantles, and dogs, cats, and fowls were trampling over my body. The more wealthy and long settled families, however, usually have the kitchen separate from their sitting-room. In such houses curtained beds, and other articles of decent furniture, are not unfrequently found; but the poorer classes are content with a few thong-bottomed chairs and stools, two or three wagon-chests, and a couple of deal tables. At one of the latter sits the mistress of the house, with a tea-urn and a chafing-dish before her, dealing out every now and then _tea-water_, or coffee, and elevating her sharp shrill voice occasionally to keep the dilatory slaves and Hottentots at their duty. In this same apartment is also invariably to be seen the carcass of a sheep killed in the morning, and hung up under the eye of the mistress, to be served out frugally for the day's provision as it may be required. The houses, being without any ceiling, are open to the thatch; and the rafters are generally hung full of the ears of Indian corn, leaves or rolls of tobacco, slices of dried meat, called _bill tongue_, &c. The last is a sort of ham from the muscular part of the thigh of the ox, or the larger species of antelopes; it is very convenient for carrying on journeys, and is found in the boor's houses in every part of the colony. It is cut into very thin slices, and eaten with bread and butter, or with bread and the melted fat of the sheep's tail, which is a common substitute for butter; either way it is no contemptible dish when one is a little hungry, and many a time I have heartily enjoyed it.

A traveller, on arriving, if it does not happen to be meal-time, is always presented with a cup of tea, without sugar, milk, or bread; unless occasionally, when you may be favoured with a small piece of sugar-candy out of a tin snuff-box, to be kept in your mouth to sweeten the bitter beverage as it passes. When their tea and coffee are exhausted, a succedaneum is found in roasted grain, prepared in the same way as Hunt's radical coffee, which, if not very palatable, is nevertheless a refreshment to a thirsty and weary traveller. They never think of asking you to eat unless at meal-time; but then you are expected to draw in your chair, and help yourself, without invitation, in the same easy manner as one of the family. The dishes consist for the most part of mutton stewed in sheep's-tail fat, or boiled to rags; sometimes with very palatable soup, and a dish of boiled corn, maize, or pumpkin. Cayenne-pepper, vinegar, and few home-made pickles, are also usually produced to relish the simple fare, which, served up twice a day, forms, with tea-water and the _soopie_, or dram of Cape brandy, the amount of their luxuries. In this quarter of the colony, however, I found every where excellent bread; and, upon the whole, the farmers of Bruintjes-Hoogte and the Sneeuwberg appeared in much more independent and comfortable circumstances than those along the coast.

_Thompson's Southern Africa._

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HOSPITAL FOR THE DUMB.

The Banian hospital at Surat is a most remarkable institution; it consists of a large plot of ground, enclosed with high walls, divided into several courts or wards, for the accommodation of animals; in sickness they are attended with the tenderest care, and find a peaceful asylum for the infirmities of age. When an animal breaks a limb, or is otherwise disabled from serving his master, he carries him to the hospital, and, indifferent to what nation or caste the owner may belong, the patient is never refused admittance. If he recover, he cannot be reclaimed, but must remain in the hospital for life, subject to the duty of drawing water for those pensioners debilitated by age or disease from procuring it for themselves. At my visit, the hospital contained horses, mules, oxen, sheep, goats, monkeys, poultry, pigeons, and a variety of birds, with an aged tortoise, who was known to have been there for seventy-five years. The most extraordinary ward was that appropriated to rats, mice, bugs, and other noxious vermin. The overseers of the hospital frequently hire beggars from the streets, for a stipulated sum, to pass a night among the fleas, lice, and bugs, on the express condition of suffering them to enjoy their feast without molestation.

_Forbes's Oriental Memoirs._

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Useful Domestic Hints

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NORFOLK PUNCH. NO. 1.

In twenty quarts of French brandy put the peels of thirty lemons and thirty oranges, pared so thin that not the least of the white is left; infuse twelve hours. Have ready thirty quarts of cold water that has been boiled; put to it fifteen pounds of double-refined sugar; and when well mixed, pour it upon the brandy and peels, adding the juice of the oranges and of twenty-four lemons; mix well. Then strain, through a fine hair-sieve, into a very clean barrel that has held spirits, and put two quarts of new milk. Stir, and then bung it close; let it stand six weeks in a warm cellar; bottle the liquor for use, taking great care that the bottles are perfectly clean and dry, and the corks of the best quality and well put in. This liquor will keep many years, and improves by age.--_The Vintner's Guide._

NORFOLK PUNCH. NO. 2.

Pare six lemons and three Seville oranges very thin; squeeze the juice into a large jar; put to it two quarts of brandy, one of white wine, and one of milk, and one pound and a quarter of sugar. Let it be mixed, and then covered for twenty-four hours. Strain through a jelly-bag till clear, then bottle it.--_Ibid._

TO MANAGE AND IMPROVE RED PORT WINE WHEN POOR AND THIN.