Chapter 3

One point of consideration,(says the writer of the "Hints,") in the proposed measure (although in reality of no essential importance to pecuniary success) is of considerable magnitude, as regards moral feeling and the pride of many--that is, there being no admission of convicts into the proposed colony! Without any illiberal sentiment, this is a disadvantage under which Port Jackson and Van Nieman's Land certainly suffer. Nevertheless these thriving colonies, in the course of thirty or forty years, have made surprising progress in agriculture, population, commerce and wealth. The situation of Port Jackson was the most distant from the mother country; its position was not peculiarly adapted to production or traffic with any part of the globe; therefore, the improvement can only be attributed to a favorable soil, free from the taxation of old European governments, a low fee cost, or a nominal pepper corn rent, which circumstances have not only been capable of maintaining those who adventured, but of yielding a profit for capital sufficient to induce others to pursue the same course.

In the infancy of a colony, the certain maintenance of the settlers should be well established; and it is also right to know with what facility and at what cost, an adequate supply of necessaries, comforts, and even luxuries may be obtained. Adjacent, and favorably situated to Cockburn Sound, are the Mauritius, Cape of Good Hope, Timer, Java, Sumatra, and the East Indian Presidencies.

_Rice_, from Java, can be obtained in five weeks, at or under 1_d_. per pound.

The bantam fowls and China pigs at equally moderate prices.

_Sugar_,[6] from the Mauritius, Java, or Calcutta, at 3_d_. per pound.

[6] Cunningham, in his account of New South Wales, recommends the cultivation of sugar, but he acknowledges the latitude of 28° scarcely sufficiently warm for the purpose, and enters into an argument of economy, whether convicts or slaves would be the cheapest mode of supplying labour; but this system would alter the whole character of this proposed settlement in the neighbourhood of Cockburn Sound, the great feature of which is healthiness of the climate, and a fertility of the soil, capable of producing useful exportable commodities, more than sufficient to pay for tropical productions of luxury, raised at an increased expense of life and slavery; and a very little insight into foreign trade will show with what ease this may be accomplished.

_Coffee_, from Java, 4_d_. per pound.

_Spices_, the production of the Moluccas, Celebees, &c. &c. at the lowest possible rate:--viz. pepper, nutmegs, cloves, &c.

Algoa Bay, the Cape of Good Hope, furnishes cattle and sheep. The coast of Cockburn Sound and Swan and Canning Rivers, promises plenty of fish for the table--also, oil for use. Tea will not cost more than 2_s_. 6_d_. per pound through Java; from whence stock of cattle, poultry and pigs can be added of the best quality.

There is no intention in these remarks to shew the extent of production of which the soil and climate are capable; time and prosperity will be requisite to bring forward all their capabilities. Nothing, therefore, has been said of the articles grown in similar latitudes in Asia, and carried to Smyrna and other Turkish ports at immense distances, for export to England, France, and Holland. There is, however, no reason for supposing that silk, (equal to that of Brussa,) opium, madder roots, goats' wool, senna, gums, currants, raisins, and the highly esteemed Turkish tobacco, and various other productions, may not be cultivated to advantage half a century hence. But in the commencement, it is sufficient to look to _early, certain, and profitable returns_; without calculating upon chances of wealth, which may not be realized in the lifetime of the present adventurers.

It remains only for us to offer a word of advice (says the writer in the _Quarterly Review_) to the multitudes who we understand are preparing to take their flight to this new land of Goshen,--which is this: that no one should _at present_ think of venturing on such a step, unless he can carry out with him, either in his own person or in his family or followers, the knowledge of agriculture, and the capability of agricultural labour. It is quite certain that, for the first few years, every settler must be mainly indebted for the means of subsistence of himself and family to the produce of the soil; beyond this the country itself, for the first year, will afford him nothing, with the exception, perhaps, of a little fish--the rest must be raised by the labour of the ploughman and the horticulturist. The only settlers, therefore, who can reasonably hope to thrive in the infant state of the colony must consist of this description of persons; any others, with very few exceptions, must inevitably be disappointed, if not irretrievably ruined. A clergyman, a schoolmaster, a land-surveyor, an apothecary, a few small tradesmen and fishermen, may reasonably expect employment and make themselves useful to the new community; as will also a limited number of house-carpenters, joiners, bricklayers, black-smiths, tailors, shoemakers, and common labourers, the latter being required to assist in building habitations; but the unproductive class, or idlers, had better wait a few years before they embark for a country where, as yet, there is neither hut nor hovel, and where the "_fruges consumere nati_" have unquestionably no place in society. We cannot forget what happened, when, a few years ago, the government resolved to send out, at a very considerable expense, a number of new settlers to improve and extend the agriculture of the Cape of Good Hope; giving allowances to the heads of parties, proportioned to their respective numbers.

The persons best calculated for effecting the improvement of the colony, and, at the same time, their own condition, must be looked for among the English and Scotch farmers; these cannot fail. To such we would recommend not to encumber themselves, and incur a great and unnecessary expense, by carrying out live-stock from home, but to take them from the Cape of Good Hope. At Algoa Bay, which is perfectly safe for six months in the year, they may be supplied with every kind of domestic animal, in good condition, and at reasonable prices, which may be carried to their destination in the short space of twenty-eight days. Seed corn and the seeds of culinary vegetables may be taken from home; but of young plants of peaches, pomegranates, oranges, figs, and vines, it may be advisable to take a supply from the Cape of Good Hope. For these, and many other species of fruit, the climate is admirably adapted; and the vine, in particular, is just calculated for the limestone ridge which extends along the coast facing the western sun.

It appears that apprehensions of interruption were once entertained from a prior settlement from France; these fears are however, removed by that nation having fixed on a point, to colonize, in latitude 25 deg. south, (which is distant north of the Swan River 400 miles) called Shark's Bay, within which there is an inlet called Freycinet's Harbour. The country in this neighbourhood much resembles the western coast.

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

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THE AIR BALLOON.

IN LAUDEM BULLAE AERO-NAUTICAE.

They may talk as they will Of their steam-engine skill, But, as sure as the sun shines at noon, Straps, boilers, and springs Are a wagon to wings, Compared with the air-balloon.

If you're troubled with taxes, You cross the Araxes, Or fly to the plains of Hairoun; In the height of the summer, Cool as a cucumber, You sit in your air-balloon.

The ladies, poor souls! Once sent sighs to the poles; We may now send the sighers as soon: Painted canvass and gas Whisk away with the lass, In the car of the air-balloon.

Our girls of fifteen Will disdain Gretna Green, The old coupler must soon cobble shoon; With a wink to the captain, The beauties are wrapt in The car of the air-balloon.

Old fathers and mothers, Grim uncles and brothers, May hunt them from Janu'ry to June; They are oft to the stars, And in Venus or Mars You may spy out their air-balloon

Your makers of rhyme May at last grow sublime, Inspired by a touch at the moon; And lawyers may rise For once to the skies, In the car of the air-balloon.

Your ministers, soaring, May shun all the boring Of country and city baboon-- Or, like ministers' spouses, Look down on both Houses-- From the car of the air-balloon.

The sweet six months' widow Her weeds will abide, O, No longer, nor cry "'Tis too soon!" But range the skies over, In search of a lover, In the car of the air balloon.

If you wish for a singe-a In Afric or India, Or long for an Esquimaux' tune, Or wish to go snacks With the king of the blacks,-- Why,--call for your air-balloon.

If, on Teneriffe's Peak, You'd wish for a steak, Or dip in Vesuvius your spoon, Or slip all the dog-days, The rain-days, and fog-days,-- Go, call for your air-balloon.

Your doctors of physic May banish the phthisic. Your cook give you ice-creams in June-- If a dun's in the wind, You may leave him behind, And be off in your air-balloon.

On the top of the Andes, Who's tortur'd with dandies? On Potosi, who meets a buffoon? But, for fear I'd get prosy, I'll stop at Potosi,-- So, huzza for the air-balloon!

_Monthly Magazine_.

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ALVISE SANUTO.

_A Venetian Story_[7]

[7] The nobility of Venice were subject to the most rigorous _surveillance_, and dearly paid, occasionally, for the small degree of power conceded by the ducal house. The jealousy of the government with regard to these men was carried to excess. I may mention three regulations among the many that related to them, as illustrative of the galling yoke that pressed on them, amid all their pride and splendour. The first forbade them to leave the dominions of the state without the special permission of the council of ten; and this was granted with difficulty. The second prohibited them from possessing foods and chattels out of the state. This was with a view of preventing the danger that might arise from attempts to betray the republic under an idea of finding an asylum elsewhere. The third and most severe decree forbade communication with foreign ambassadors, under pain of death! The terror inspired by this was such, that not only the ministers of the court, but their secretaries and domestics, fled from the ambassadors as if they were infected with the plague. This decree had numerous results, and among others, one that was attended with truly tragical circumstances.

Alvise Sanuto was a young man of whom his country entertained the proudest hopes. His courage had been gloriously tried in the battle of Lepanto, in which he had performed prodigies of valour. His prudence and foresight had been often the subject of admiration in the great council of the state. The old man, his father, esteemed him as the ornament and grace of his family: Venice pointed to him as one of her best citizens. Alvise was destined to fall by an infamous death.

At that period both public and private manners were exceedingly severe. The ladies, who gave law to them, only issued from their homes to go to church, wrapped up in a veil which hid their face and figure. The balconies of the palaces still present signs of this ancient severity, the parapets being purposely made so high and large, as to render it difficult to see from them. Alvise had a heart of the most passionate and fiery nature; he felt the imperious sway of love, but as yet had met with no lady on whom he could bestow his affections. The arrival of the French ambassador at Venice, in great pomp, excited public curiosity. The manners of the strangers bore an aspect of perfect novelty to the inhabitants of the republic, as the ladies who accompanied Amalia, the ambassador's daughter, displayed a fire and vivacity, which to many seemed scandalous as well as astonishing. Amalia was in her seventeenth year, and to cultivated and sprightly powers of mind, added those French graces, which, if they do not constitute beauty, are still more effectual than beauty itself in seducing the beholder. Alvise saw her when she was presented to the Doge, and regarded her as a being more than human. He gazed on her as if beside himself; and what female could have beheld him without admiration? Amalia read in the noble countenance of Alvise what he felt at that moment; she was affected, and, for the first time, her heart palpitated within her bosom.

Alvise from that day was another being. He knew his unhappy state, and that his misfortunes could end but with his life, since the severe and unyielding laws of his country rendered all hope chimerical of ever being united with the stranger lady. His ardent fancy suggested to attempt any means of again seeing her who was dearer to him than life. His abode was divided from that of the ambassador by a narrow canal. Having procured the assistance of a French domestic, he passed over to the palace, and secretly entered the chamber of Amalia.

It was midnight; and the young lady, her own thoughts perhaps disturbed by love, had not yet laid down, but was seeking from prayer consolation and rest. She knelt before the image of the virgin, her hands clasped in the attitude of devotion; and Alvise, beholding her angelic countenance lit up by the uncertain light of the lamp, could not restrain an exclamation of surprise, which roused the maiden from her pious reverie. Struck with the sight of him, she at first fancied, according to the superstitious notions of the times, that he was a spirit sent by her evil genius to tempt her, and uttered some words of holy scripture by way of exorcism; when Alvise, advancing, threw himself at her feet, and before Amalia could speak, disclosed to her, in the most passionate terms, his love, the inconsiderate step he had taken, and the certain death that awaited him should he be discovered.

Terror, rather than indignation, filled the breast of Amalia. "Oh, heavens!" she exclaimed, "what madness could prompt you thus to expose your own life and my reputation? Haste, fly from this spot, which you have profaned; and know, that if my heart recoils at your death (and here she gave a deep sigh,) yet at my cry those would appear who would not suffer your insult to pass unpunished," so saying, she pointed imperiously to the door.

Alvise listened to her as if he had been struck down by lightning. "Then let me die!" he exclaimed, "for without you life is odious to me. You are just taking the first steps in this vale of tears; one day, however, your heart also will know the emotions of love, and then, then think of the unhappy Alvise; how great must have been his pangs, and how ardent his desire to terminate them!"

He now made an effort to go away; but Amalia held him, while she said, "Alas! I seek not thy death: live, but forget me from this fatal moment." "To forget thee is impossible; to love thee is death: thy compassion would sweeten the last moments of my existence!" "Alvise!" exclaimed Amalia, weeping, "live, if only for my sake!" "Do you comprehend the force of these words?"

She trembled at the question; but the idea of her lover dying in despair overcame all her scruples. "Yes, live for my sake," she repeated in an under tone.

Unhappy beings! they were intoxicated with love, while the abyss was yawning beneath their feet. A spy of the state inquisition, who was going his rounds, saw Alvise enter the palace, and recognised him. Denounced before the dreadful tribunal, he was dragged thither that very morning. Convicted of entering the abode of the French ambassador, he was desired to explain his motives tor so doing, but remained obstinately silent. The members of the inquisition were confounded, accustomed as they were to see every thing yield before them, and reminded him that death would be the inevitable result of his silence. "Death," he replied, "had no terrors for me when I fought at Lepanto for the glory of my country and the salvation of Italy; on which day I proved, that under no circumstances could I ever become a traitor. I call heaven to witness that I am not one. But something dearer to me than life or fame now imposes silence on me."

He was beheaded, and his body exposed between the two columns of the palace, with this inscription: "For offences against the statute." The populace were speechless at the sight, while his companions in arms, his relations and friends, abandoned themselves to despair. Venice presented one universal scene of mourning.

On the evening of the fatal day, Amalia stood upon the terrace of her palace, overlooking the grand canal. She contemplated with pleasurable melancholy the calm and even course of the moon, whose modest light shone in the cloudless sky. Her thoughts were of Alvise. To divert them, she turned to gaze on a long procession of illuminated gondolas, from which she heard a strain of plaintive music, as if of prayers for the dead, A dreadful presentiment seized her heart; she inquired the purpose of the procession, and heard, with unspeakable terror, that it was the solemnization of the funeral rites of a Venetian nobleman, who had been beheaded for high treason. "His name?" cried the breathless girl, in almost unintelligible accents: "Alvise Sanuto."

She fell, as if shot; and striking her head in the fall upon a projecting part of the terrace, was mortally wounded, and expired.--_Lettere su Venezia_--_Translated in the Oxford Literary Gaz._

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THE ANECDOTE GALLERY.

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INDEPENDENCE

Is the word, of all others, that Irish--men, women, and children--least understand; and the calmness, or rather indifference, with which they submit to dependence, bitter and miserable as it is, must be a source of deep regret to all "who love the land," or feel anxious to uphold the dignity of human kind. Let us select a few cases from our Irish village--such as are abundant in every neighbourhood. Shane Thurlough, "as dacent a boy," and Shane's wife, as "clane-skinned a girl," as any in the world. There is Shane, an active, handsome-looking fellow, leaning over the half-door of his cottage, kicking a hole in the wall with his brogue, and picking up all the large gravel within his reach to pelt the ducks with--those useful Irish scavengers. Let us speak to him. "Good morrow, Shane!" "Och! the bright bames of heaven on ye every day! and kindly welcome, my lady--and won't ye step in and rest--it's powerful hot, and a beautiful summer, sure--the Lord be praised!" "Thank you, Shane. I thought you were going to cut the hayfield to-day--if a heavy shower comes, it will be spoil'd; it has been fit for the sithe these two days." "Sure, it's all owing to that thief o' the world, Tom Parrel, my lady. Didn't he promise me the loan of his sithe; and, by the same token, I was to pay him for it; and _depinding_ on that, I didn't buy one, which I have been threatening to do for the last two years." "But why don't you go to Carrick and purchase one?" "To Carrick!--Och, 'tis a good step to Carrick, and my toes are on the ground (saving your presence,) for I _depindid_ on Tim Jarvis to tell Andy Cappler, the brogue-maker, to do my shoes; and, bad luck to him, the spalpeen! he forgot it." "Where's your pretty wife, Shane?" "She's in all the woe o' the world, Ma'am, dear. And she puts the blame of it on me, though I'm not in the faut this time, any how: the child's taken the small pock, and she _depindid_ on me to tell the doctor to cut it for the cow-pock, and I _depindid_ on Kitty Cackle, the limmer, to tell the doctor's own man, and thought she would not forget it, becase the boy's her bachelor--but out o' sight out o' mind--the never a word she tould him about it, and the babby has got it nataral, and the woman's in heart trouble (to say nothing o' myself;) and it the first, and all." "I am very sorry, indeed, for you have got a much better wife than most men." "That's a true word, my lady--only she's fidgetty like sometimes, and says I don't hit the nail on the head quick enough; and she takes a dale more trouble than she need about many a thing." "I do not think I ever saw Ellen's wheel without flax before, Shane?" "Bad cess to the wheel;--I got it this morning about that too--I _depinded_ on John Williams to bring the flax from O'Flaharty's this day week, and he forgot it; and she says I ought to have brought it myself, and I close to the spot: but where's the good? says I, sure he'll bring it next time." "I suppose, Shane, you will soon move into the new cottage, at Clurn Hill. I passed it to-day, and it looked so cheerful; and when you get there, you must take Ellen's advice, and _depend_ solely on yourself." "Och Ma'am, dear, don't mintion it--sure it's that makes me so down in the mouth, this very minit. Sure I saw that born blackguard, Jack Waddy, and he comes in here, quite innocent like"--"Shane, you've an eye to 'Squire's new lodge," says he. "Maybe I have," says I. "I am y'er man," says he. "How so?" says I. "Sure I'm as good as married to my lady's maid," said he; "and I'll spake to the 'Squire for you, my own self." "The blessing be about you," says I, quite grateful,--and we took a strong cup on the strength of it; and _depinding_ on him, I thought all safe,--"and what d'ye think, my lady? Why, himself stalks into the place--talked the 'Squire over, to be sure--and without so much as by y'er lave, sates himself and his new wife on the laase in the house; and I may go whistle." "It was a great pity, Shane, that you didn't go yourself to Mr. Clurn." "That's a true word for ye, Ma'am, dear; but it's hard if a poor man can't have a frind to DEPIND on."--_Sketches of Irish Character, by Mrs. S.C. Hall_.

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THE GATHERER.

"A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles."

SHAKSPEARE

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POTATOES.

One is almost induced to imagine that certain orders of London conceive that "_takers_," as they commonly call them in their uncooked state, is a generical term; and that they only become entitled to the prefix of "_pot_," after they have been boiled.

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DINING LATE.

A wag, on being told it was the fashion to dine later and later every day, said, "he supposed it would end at last in not dining till to-morrow!"

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MOORE'S LIFE OF BYRON.

Moore has printed between three and four hundred pages of his Life of Lord Byron, which is interspersed with original letters and poems, of singular merit--after the manner of Mason's Life of Gray, and Hayley's Life of Cowper. Nearly the whole of the manuscript is in town, and the work, consisting of a thick 4to. volume, will be published during the season.--_Court Journal, No. 1_.

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PISTRUCCI.

This gifted improvisatore (who is poet to the King's Theatre,) sometimes astonishes his acquaintance--especially if a new one--by holding his hand close over the flame of a candle, or an argand lamp, for several minutes together. It is a singular fact that several of the male branches of this family--of whom the unrivalled artist who cut the die of the sovereign, with the St. George upon it, is one--have one of their hands covered with a thick coat of horn-like matter, as hard as tortoiseshell, and perfectly insensible.--_Ibid._