Part 2

After awhile, however, we took up another passenger--a "_lady_" again--and, Heaven bless the woman! one even more voluble than my first companion, and decidedly more candid, since she had not been seated five minutes in the vehicle, ere she unblushingly announced herself--a _baker's wife_! Good Heavens! and in these march-of-intellect and refinement days, too! Well might Niobe wake with a start from her trance of woe, and, glancing sovereign contempt upon the new, unconscious passenger, discover to me a countenance as plain, withered, and fraught with the impress of evil passions, as that of the _Lady in the Sacque_, in Sir Walter's tale of the Tapestried Chamber. I never beheld so fretful and malignant-looking a being!--and the contrast which her visage afforded to that of my kind-hearted widow, which beamed with satisfaction and good-humour, was quite remarkable. This "lady," indeed, now appeared to have regained her native element, and not to be out-done in frankness by Mistress Baker, first avowed herself the widow of a chandler, but lately retired from business; and subsequently I gathered from her discourse that the _gentleman_ her relation was, until his infirmity deprived him of the situation--_groom_, in a REAL gentleman's family (the distinction I particularly admired); and that the _lady_, her condescending friend, was a grocer's daughter! Niobe, at this precise point of the conversation, bestowed a ghastly grin upon the new allies, and producing from her reticule a well-soiled and much be-thumbed volume (whether of plays, or a novel, I could not discern), commenced perusing it with an avidity apparently unchecked by its disgusting odour, the which powerfully assailed me. I, too, was allowed by my loquacious widow, now that she had fallen in with a bird of her own feather, to read in peace for the space of some three or four miles; but at length my attention was aroused from my book by the loud voice of Mrs. Baker, who was promulgating to Dame Chandler the mysterious manner in which she fattened her dogs, by giving them, twice or thrice a day, a quartern loaf, crumbed, and sopped in melted fat, or dripping, which saved meat, since the animals liked that food far better. But at this instant the Telegraph stopped; and the coachman demanding his fare, since she had reached the place at which she had desired to be set down, a violent altercation ensued between them respecting sixpence; and finally the _lady_ just stepped out of the vehicle in time to save herself from the indignity of being pulled from it by its infuriated driver.

"A fine _sturren_ (stirring), business-like woman!" exclaimed the widow, as we again proceeded; "likelies to turn a penny whiles other folks lay a bed snoring; but mortal wasteful um sure, for one that talks about saving! Meat indeed she may save; but lauk now, only _consate_ the _grase_ she gives 'em confounded brutes, and the _taller trade_ so low!"

"And only think," added I, "of the numbers of poor creatures who are starving, whilst she bestows quartern loaves of fine white bread upon her dogs!"

"An' has for saving _meat_," cried Niobe (then did she speak for the first time), "sure am I, my fath--that's to say, the butchers, wouldn't thank her for her pains."

Here was a discovery! but a greater was at hand; for when the Telegraph arrived at its destination--the White Horse, Fetter-lane--a livery-servant met this sentimental, and inordinately proud, and ill-humoured _lady_; and after delivering a message from her "_new misses_," called a hackney-coach to convey her to her "new place."

My honest widow hurried to the bar, in order to obtain some _stomachic_ which should enable her to endure the further fatigue of reaching her own abode; and Mr. S. (a _real_ gentleman I hope) meeting me, I amused him uncommonly with this description of my fellow-travellers, as we returned to our happy home in ---- Square.--M.L.B.

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THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS.

MECHANICAL POWER OF COALS.

The Menai Bridge, one of the most stupendous works of art that has been raised by man in modern ages, consists of a mass of iron, not less than four millions of pounds in weight, suspended at a medium height of about 120 feet above the sea. The consumption of seven hanhels of coal would suffice to raise it to the place where it hangs.

The great pyramid of Egypt is composed of granite. It is 700 feet in the side of its base, and 500 in perpendicular height, and stands on eleven acres of ground. Its weight is, therefore, 12,760 millions of pounds, at a medium height of 125 feet; consequently it would be raised by the effort of about 630 chaldrons of coal, a quantity consumed in some founderies in a week.

The annual consumption of coal in London is estimated at 1,500,000 chaldrons. The effort of this quantity would suffice to raise a cubical block of marble, 2,200 feet in the side, through a space equal to its own height, or to pile one such mountain upon another. The Monte Nuovo, near Pozzuoli, (which was erupted in a single night by volcanic fire,) might have been raised by such an effort from a depth of 40,000 feet, or about eight miles.--_Cabinet Cyclopaedia_, vol. xiv.

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WONDROUS EFFECTS OF CHEMISTRY.

Not to mention the impulse which its progress has given to a host of other sciences, what strange and unexpected results has it not brought to light in its application to some of the most common objects! Who, for instance, would have conceived that linen rags were capable of producing _more than their own weight of sugar_, by the simple agency of one of the cheapest and most abundant acids?--that dry bones could be a magazine of nutriment, capable of preservation for years, and ready to yield up their sustenance in the form best adapted to the support of life, on the application of that powerful agent, steam, which enters so largely into all our processes, or of an acid at once cheap and durable?--that sawdust itself is susceptible of conversion into a substance bearing no remote analogy to bread; and though certainly less palatable than that of flour, yet noway disagreeable, and both wholesome and digestible as well as highly nutritive?

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FIRST ENGLISH COLONY IN AMERICA.

The first attempt of the English to effect any settlement in America, was made by Sir Humphrey Gilbert, who, in the month of June, 1578, obtained a patent from Queen Elizabeth, authorizing him to plant a colony in that country. Gilbert's project failed; but it was afterwards resumed by his half-brother, the celebrated Sir Walter Raleigh, who, in 1584, obtained a patent similar to that which had been granted to Gilbert, and next year planted a colony at the mouth of the Roanoke, naming the country _Virginia_ in honour of his royal mistress. But all these settlers, as well as others who crossed the Atlantic during the next twenty years, either perished by famine and disease, or by the hands of the Indians, or returned to England.--_Cabinet Cyclopaedia_, vol. xiii.; _being_ vol. i. _of the History of the Western World--United States of America_.

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TRADITIONS OF THE INDIANS.

According to the unambitious belief of the Osages, a people living on the banks of one of the lower tributaries of the Missouri, they are sprung from a snail and a beaver. The Mandans believe their ancestors once lived in a large village under ground, near a subterranean lake; that by means of a vine tree, which extended its roots to their cheerless habitation, they got a glimpse of the light; that informed by some adventurers, who had visited the upper world, of the numerous buffaloes pasturing on the plains, and of the trees loaded with delicious fruits, the whole nation, with one consent, began to ascend the roots of the vine; but that, when about the half of them had reached the surface, a corpulent woman climbing up, broke the roots by her weight; that the earth immediately closed, and concealed for ever from those below the cheering beams of the sun. From a people who entertain such fanciful notions of their origin, no valuable information concerning their early history can be expected.--_Ibid._

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POLITE SLAUGHTERING OF AN ENEMY.

At times, an Indian warrior, when about to kill and scalp a prostrate enemy, addresses him in such terms as the following:--

"My name is Cashegra: I am a famous warrior, and am going to kill you. When you reach the land of spirits, you will see the ghost of my father: tell him it was Cashegra sent you there." The uplifted tomahawk then descends upon his victim.--_Ibid._

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

A SCENE ON THE "COSTA FIRME."

I was awakened by the low growling, and short bark of the dog. The night was far spent; the tiny sparks of the fire-flies that were glancing in the doorway, began to grow pale; the chirping of the crickets and lizards, and the _snore_ of the tree-toad waxed fainter, and the wild cry of the tiger-cat was no longer heard. The _terral_, or land-wind, which is usually strongest towards morning, moaned loudly on the hillside, and came rushing past with a melancholy _sough_, through the brushwood that surrounded the hut, shaking off the heavy dew from the palm and cocoa nut trees, like large drops of rain.

The hollow tap of the woodpecker; the clear flute note of the _Pavo del monte_; the discordant shriek of the macaw; the shrill _chirr_ of the wild Guinea fowl; and the chattering of the paroquets began to be heard from the wood. The ill-omened _gallinaso_ was sailing and circling round the hut, and the tall flamingo was stalking on the shallows of the lagoon, the haunt of the disgusting alligator, that lay beneath, divided from the sea by a narrow mud bank, where a group of pelicans, perched on the wreck of one of our boats, were pluming themselves before taking wing. In the east, the deep blue of the firmament, from which the lesser stars were fast fading, all but the "Eye of Morn," was warming into magnificent purple, and the amber rays of the yet unrisen sun were shooting up, streamer-like, with intervals between, through the parting clouds, as they broke away with a passing shower, that fell like a veil of silver gauze between us and the first primrose-coloured streaks of a tropical dawn.

"That's a musket shot," said the lieutenant. The Indian crept on his belly to the door, dropped his chin on the ground, and placed his open palms behind his ears. The distant wail of a bugle was heard, then three or four dropping shots again, in rapid succession. Mr. Splinter stooped to go forth, but the Indian caught him by the leg, uttering the single word "_Espanoles_."

On the instant a young Indian woman, with a shrieking infant in her arms, rushed to the door. There was a blue gunshot wound in her neck, from which two or three large black clotting gouts of blood were trickling. Her long black hair was streaming in coarse braids, and her features were pinched and sharpened, as if in the agony of death. She glanced wildly behind, and gasped out, "_Escapa, Oreeyue, escapa, para mi soi, muerto ya_." Another shot, and the miserable creature convulsively clasped her child, whose small shrill cry I often fancy I hear to this hour, blending with its mother's death-shriek, and, falling backwards, rolled over the brow of the hill out of sight. The ball had pierced the heart of the parent through the body of her offspring. By this time a party of Spanish soldiers had surrounded the hut, one of whom kneeling before the low door, pointed his musket into it. The Indian, who had seen his wife and child thus cruelly shot down before his face, now fired his rifle, and the man fell dead. "_Sigi mi Querida Bondia--maldito_." Then springing to his feet, and stretching himself to his full height, with his arms extended towards heaven, while a strong shiver shook him like an ague fit, he yelled forth the last words he ever uttered, "_Venga la suerte, ya soi listo_," and resumed his squatting position on the ground. Half-a-dozen musket balls were now fired at random through the wattles, while the lieutenant, who spoke Spanish well, sung out lustily, that we were English officers who had been shipwrecked. "_Mentira_," growled the officer of the party, "_Piratas son ustedes_." "Pirates leagued with Indian bravoes; fire the hut, soldiers, and burn the scoundrels!" There was no time to be lost; Mr. Splinter made a vigorous attempt to get out, in which I seconded him, with all the strength that remained to me, but they beat us back again with the buts of their muskets.

"Where are your commissions, your uniforms, if you be British officers?" We had neither, and our fate appeared inevitable.

The doorway was filled with brushwood, fire was set to the hut, and we heard the crackling of the palm thatch, while thick stifling wreaths of white smoke burst in upon us through the roof.

"Lend a-hand, Tom, now or never, and kick up the dark man there," but he sat still as a statue. We laid our shoulders to the end wall, and heaved at it with all our might; when we were nearly at the last gasp it gave way, and we rushed headlong into the middle of the party, followed by Sneezer with his shaggy coat, that was full of clots of tar blazing like a torch. He unceremoniously seized "_par le queue_," the soldier who had throttled me, setting fire to the skirts of his coat, and blowing up his cartouch box. I believe under Providence, that the ludicrousness of this attack saved us from being bayonetted on the spot. It gave time for Mr. Splinter to recover his breath, when being a powerful man, he shook off the two soldiers who had seized him, and dashed into the burning hut again. I thought he was mad, especially when I saw him return with his clothes and hair on fire, dragging out the body of the captain. He unfolded the sail it was wrapped in, and pointing to the remains of the naval uniform in which the mutilated and putrifying corpse was dressed, he said sternly to the officer, "We are in your power, and you may murder us if you will; but _that_ was my captain four days ago, and you see, _he_ at least was a British officer--satisfy yourself." The person he addressed, a handsome young Spaniard, with a clear olive complexion, oval face, small brown mustachios, and large black eyes, shuddered at the horrible spectacle, but did as he was requested.

When he saw the crown and anchor, and his majesty's cipher on the appointments of the dead officer, he became convinced of our quality, and changed his tone--"_Es verdat, son de la marina Englesa_;" "But gentlemen, were there not three persons in the hut?" There were indeed--the flames had consumed the dry roof and walls with incredible rapidity, and by this time they had fallen in, but Oreeque was no where to be seen. I thought I saw something move in the midst of the fire, but it might have been fancy. Again the white ashes heaved, and a half-consumed hand and arm were thrust through the mouldering mass, then a human head, with the scalp burnt from the skull, and the flesh from the chaps and cheek-bones; the trunk next appeared, the bleeding ribs laid bare, and the miserable Indian, with his limbs like scorched rafters, stood upright before us, like a demon in the midst of the fire. He made no attempt to escape, but reeling to and fro like a drunken man, fell headlong, raising clouds of smoke and a shower of sparks in his fall. Alas! poor Oreeque, the newly risen sun was now shining on your ashes, and on the dead bodies of the ill-starred Bondia and her child, whose bones, ere his setting, the birds of the air, and beasts of the forest, will leave as white and fleshless as your own. The officer, who belonged to the army investing Carthagena, now treated us with great civility; he heard our story, and desired his men to assist us in burying the remains of our late commander.

We remained all day on the same part of the coast, but towards evening the party fell back on the outpost to which they belonged--after travelling an hour or so we emerged from a dry river course, in which the night had over-taken us, and came suddenly on a small plateau, where the post was established on the promontory of "_Punto Canoa_." There may be braver soldiers at a charge, but none more picturesque in a _bivouac_ than the Spanish. A gigantic wild cotton-tree, to which our largest English oaks were but as dwarfs, rose on one side, and overshadowed the whole level space.

The bright beams of the full moon glanced among the topmost leaves, and tipped the higher branches with silver, contrasting strangely with the scene below, where a large watch-fire cast a strong red glare on the surrounding objects, throwing up dense volumes of smoke, which eddied in dun wreaths amongst the foliage, and hung in the still night air like a canopy, leaving the space beneath comparatively clear.

A temporary guard-house, with a rude verandah of bamboos and palm leaves, had been built between two of the immense spurs of the mighty tree, that shot out many yards from the parent stem like wooden buttresses, whilst overhead there was a sort of stage made of planks laid across the lower boughs, supporting a quantity of provisions covered with tarpaulins. The sentries in the back ground with their glancing arms, were seen pacing on their watch; some of the guard were asleep on wooden benches, and on the platform amongst the branches, where a little baboon-looking old man, in the dress of a drummer, had perched himself, and sat playing a Biscayan air on a sort of bagpipe; others were gathered round the fire cooking their food, or cleaning their arms.

It shone brightly on the long line of Spanish transports that were moored below, _stem on_ to the beach, and on the white sails of the armed craft that were still hovering under weigh in the offing, which, as the night wore on, stole in, one after another, like phantoms of the ocean, and letting go their anchors with a splash, and a hollow rattle of the cable, remained still and silent as the rest.

Farther off, it fell in a crimson stream on the surface of the sheltered bay, struggling with the light of the gentle moon, and tinging with blood the small waves that twinkled in her silver wake, across which a guard boat would now and then glide, like a fairy thing, the arms of the men flashing back the red light.

Beyond the influence of the hot smoky glare, the glorious planet reassumed her sway in the midst of her attendant stars, and the relieved eye wandered forth into the lovely night, where the noiseless sheet lightning way glancing, and ever and anon lighting up for an instant some fantastic shape in the fleecy clouds, like prodigies forerunning the destruction of the stronghold over which they impended; while beneath, the lofty ridge of the convent-crowned Popa, the citadel of San Felipé bristling with cannon, the white batteries and many towers of the fated city of Carthagena, and the Spanish blockading squadron at anchor before it, slept in the moonlight.

We were civilly received by the captain, who apologized for the discomfort under which we must pass the night. He gave us the best he had, and that was bad enough, both of food and wine, before showing us into the hut, where we found a rough deal coffin lying on the very bench that was to be our bed. This he ordered away with all the coolness in the world. "It was _only_ one of his people who had died that morning of _vomito_, or yellow fever." "Comfortable country this," quoth Splinter, "and a pleasant morning we have had of it, Tom!"

_Blackwood's Magazine._

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DIRGE.

Green be the turf o'er thy head, Light lie the earth on thy breast, Peaceful and calm be thy sleep, Till thou'rt called to rejoice with the blest.

Though we weep, yet we joy at thy lot, Though we mourn thee, we yet can resign, Though we sorrow, 'tis not without hope, Though we lose thee, forbear to repine.

From the cares and the pains of this world Thy beatified spirit is free, 'Twould be selfish in us to deplore, For we know that thy God is with thee.

_Royal Lady's Magazine._ No. 1.

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THE REBELLION IN STOCK POGIS.

_Answer to Mrs. Jones's Letter in Hood's Comic Annual_.[1]

Padinton third Janeary 1831.