Part 3

On the 17th of July 1825, Major Gordon Laing of the British Army a son-in-law of Consul Warrington, quitted Tripoli with the intention of penetrating if possible directly to Tombuctoo, and thence descending the river which is said to flow near that city, to its termination. He was amply supplied with letters by the D'Ghies family; and orders were sent to the governors and chiefs of places on his route, which were subject to the Pasha to aid him by every means in the prosecution of his journey, and to forward his letters and journals to Tripoli. For some time after his departure his communications were regularly received and bills drawn by him at various places were presented at Tripoli for payment. From these accounts it appears, that taking a south-western course he arrived on the 13th of September at Ghadamis a town of considerable trade situated in an _oasis_ about five hundred miles from Tripoli; thence he passed to Einsalah in the country of the Tuaricks (a fierce race of wanderers) which he reached on the 3d of December and left on the 10th of January 1826. His journals up to this date were regularly received; from his few subsequent letters we learn that during the month of February, the caravan with which he travelled was suddenly attacked in the night by a band of Tuaricks, who had for some days accompanied them; many persons of the caravan were killed and the Major was dreadfully wounded, but he escaped and arrived at Tombuctoo on the 18th of August. At this place he had remained five weeks when Boubokar the Governor of the town who had previously treated him with favor, suddenly urged him to depart immediately, stating that he had received a letter from Bello the Sultan of the Foulahs a Prince of great power in the vicinity of Tombuctoo, expressing the strongest hostility to the stranger; Laing accordingly quitted Tombuctoo on the 22d of September, in company with Burbushi an Arab Sheik who had engaged to conduct him in safety to Arouan, distant about three hundred miles to the northward.

After this date nothing farther was heard from the traveller, no more of his bills were presented for payment at Tripoli, and Mr. Warrington becoming uneasy prevailed on the Pasha to have inquiries made respecting him. Messengers were accordingly despatched southward in various directions, one of whom on his return in the spring of 1827 brought an account that the Christian had been murdered soon after leaving Tombuctoo, by a party despatched from that place for the purpose. This statement was confirmed by all the other messengers on their return, and it was confidently repeated in a long article on the subject published in a Paris Journal, which gave the Prime Minister of Tripoli as authority. The other caravans and travellers however from the South contradicted these reports, and Hassuna D'Ghies on being questioned respecting the account driven in the Paris Journal, denied that he had supplied such information and asserted his total disbelief of the story. These and other circumstances induced Mr. Warrington to suspect that the Pasha or his Minister had for some interested motive suppressed Laing's communications; at his request therefore, the Commander of the British squadron in the Mediterranean sent a ship of war to Tripoli to give Yusuf notice that as the traveller had proceeded to the interior under his protection, he should hold him responsible for his safety, or at least for the delivery of his property and papers. This intimation was certainly of a most unreasonable character; the Pasha however could only exert himself to avert the threatened evil, by endeavoring to discover the traveller and at all events to disprove any unfair dealings or bad intentions on his own part with regard to him.

All doubts respecting the fate of the British traveller were however dispelled by the return to Tripoli of the servant who had accompanied him; from the statements of this man it was clearly ascertained, that the unfortunate Laing had been murdered in his sleep by his Arab conductor Burbushi on the third night after their departure from Tombuctoo, that is on the 25th of September 1826.

Some time after receiving this melancholy news, the British Consul was induced to believe that papers which were sent by his son-in-law from Tombuctoo, had actually arrived in Tripoli; and in the course of the investigations which he made in consequence, a suspicion was awakened in his mind that they had been secreted by Hassuna D'Ghies, in order to conceal some gross treachery or misconduct on his part. Under this impression Mr. Warrington urged the Pasha to have the papers secured, and not being satisfied with the means used for the purpose, he finally struck his flag, and declared that all official intercourse between himself and the Government of Tripoli, would be suspended until they were produced.

To avert the evils which might result from this measure, Yusuf labored diligently, and in the spring of 1829 he intercepted some letters sent from Ghadamis to Hassuna, which indicated a means of unravelling the mystery. Pursuing his inquiries farther, he became fully convinced of the perfidy of his Minister, and at length he declared to a friend of the British Consul, that two sealed packages sent by Laing from Tombuctoo, had been received by Hassuna and delivered by him to the French Consul in consideration of the abatement of forty per cent. in the amount of a large debt due by him to some French subjects. The fact of the receipt of the papers by Hassuna was to be proved by the evidence of the Courier who brought them from Ghadamis, and of other persons daily expected in Tripoli; the remainder of the Pasha's strange statement appears to have been founded entirely on a written deposition to that effect, of Mohammed D'Ghies the younger brother of the accused Minister, which was said to have been made in the presence of the Bey Ali and of Hadji Massen the Governor of the city.

On the strength of this declaration, Mr. Warrington insisted on the immediate apprehension of Hassuna, but he having received timely warning fled for refuge on the 20th of July, to the house of Mr. Coxe the American Consul; and immediately after to the surprise of all concerned, it was found that his brother Mohammed had likewise sought an asylum under the roof of Baron Rousseau.

{9}

OCTOBER.

October in New England is perhaps the most beautiful--certainly the most magnificent month in the year. The peculiar brilliancy of the skies and purity of the atmosphere,--the rich and variegated colors of the forest trees, and the deep, bright dyes of the flowers, are unequalled by any thing in the other seasons of the year; but the ruin wrought among the flowers by one night of those severe frosts which occur at the latter end of the month, after a day of cloudless and intense sunshine, can scarcely be imagined by one not familiar with the scene.

Thou'rt here again, October, with that queenly look of thine-- All gorgeous thine apparel and all golden thy sunshine-- So brilliant and so beautiful--'tis like a fairy show-- The earth in such a splendid garb, the heav'ns in such a glow.

'Tis not the loveliness of Spring--the roses and the birds, Nor Summer's soft luxuriance and her lightsome laughing words; Yet not the fresh Spring's loveliness, nor Summer's mellow glee Come o'er my spirit like the charm that's spread abroad by thee.

The gaily-mottled woods that shine--all crimson, drab, and gold, With fascination strong the mind in pensive musings hold, And the rays of glorious sunshine there in saddening lustre fall-- 'Tis the funeral pageant of a king with his gold and crimson pall.

Thou'rt like the Indian matron, who adorns her baby fair, E'er she gives it to the Ganges' flood, all bright, to perish there; Thou callest out the trusting buds with the lustre of thy sky, And clothest them in hues of Heaven all gloriously--to die.

Thou'rt like the tyrant lover, wooing soft his gentle bride-- Anon the fit of passion comes--and her smitten heart hath died; The tyrant's smile may come again, and thy cheering noonday skies, But smitten hearts and flowers are woo'd, in vain, again to rise.

* * * * *

Thy reign was short, thou Beautiful, but they were despot's hours-- The gold leaves met the forest ground, and fallen are the flowers; Ah, 'tis the bitterness of earth, that fairest, goodliest show, Comes to the heart deceitfully, and leaves the deeper wo.

ELIZA.

_Maine_.

MOTHER AND CHILD.

CHILD. Where, mother, where have the fire-flies been All the day long, that their light was not seen?

MOTHER. They've been 'mong the flowers and flown through the air, But could not be seen--for the sunshine was there. And thus, little girl, in thy morning's first light, There are many things hid from thy mind's dazzled sight, Which the ev'ning of life will too clearly reveal, And teach thee to see--or, it may be, to feel.

CHILD. Where, mother, where will the fire-flies go When the chilling snows fall and the winter winds blow?

MOTHER. The tempest o'ercomes them, but cannot destroy: For the spring time awakes them to sunshine and joy. And thus, little girl, when life's seasons are o'er, And thy joys and thy hopes and thy griefs are no more, May'st thou rise from death's slumbers to high worlds of light, Where all things are joyous, and all things are bright.

IMOGENE.

LINES

Written on one of the blank leaves of a book sent to a friend in England.

As he who sails afar on southern seas, Catches rich odor on the evening breeze, Turns to the shore whence comes the perfum'd air, And knows, though all unseen, some flower is there--

Thus, when o'er ocean's wave these pages greet Thine eye, with many a line from minstrel sweet, Think of Virginia's clime far off and fair, And know, though all unseen, a friend is there.

IMOGENE.

THE BROKEN HEART.

... The morning dew-drop, With all its pearliness and diamond form Vanisheth.

* * * * *

... She turned her from the gate, and walked As quietly into her father's hall, As though her lover had been true. No trace Of disappointment or of hate was found Upon the maiden's brow: but settled calm, And dignity unequalled. And they spoke To her, and she did mildly answer them And smiled: and smiling, seem'd so like an angel, That you would think the man who could desert A form so lovely, after he had won Her warm affections, must be more than demon.

And though she shrunk not from the love of those Who were around her, and was never found In fretful mood--yet did they soon discover The rosy tinge upon her youthful cheek Concentrate all its radiance into one Untimely spot, and her too delicate frame Wither away beneath the false one's power. But lovelier yet, and brighter still she grew Though Death was near at hand--as the moon looks Most lovely as she sinks within the sea. Her fond devoted parents watch with care The fatal enemy: friends and physicians Exert their skill most faithfully. Alas! Could Love or Friendship bind a broken heart, The fading flower might be recalled to life.

* * * * *

She's gone, where she will chant the melody Of Seraphim _and live_--beyond the power Of the base. Then weep not, childless parents, weep not,-- But think to meet her soon. Her smile is yet More lovely now than when a child of earth: For she has caught the ray of dazzling glory And sweet divinity, that beams all bright Upon her Saviour's face; and waits to cast That smile on thee.

ELIZA

_Richmond, Va._

HALLEY'S COMET--1760.

BY MISS E. DRAPER.

Good George the Third was sitting on his throne-- His limbs were healthy, and his wits were sound; In gorgeous state St. James's palace shone-- And bending courtiers gather'd thick around The new made monarch and his German bride, Who sat in royal splendor side by side.

Pitt was haranguing in the House of Lords-- Blair in the Pulpit--Blackstone at the Bar-- Garrick and Foote upon the Thespian boards-- {10} And pious Whitfield in the open air-- While nervous Cowper, shunning public cares, Sat in his study, fattening up his hares.

Sterne was correcting proof-sheets--Edmund Burke Planning a register--Goldsmith and Hume Scribbling their histories--and hard at work Was honest Johnson; close at hand were some Impatient creditors, to urge the sale Of his new book, the Abyssinian tale.

Italia smiled beneath her sunny skies-- Her matchless works were in her classic walls; They had not gone to feast the Frenchman's eyes-- They had not gone to fill Parisian halls: The Swiss was in his native Canton free, And Francis mildly ruled in Germany.

Adolphus reigned in Sweden; the renown Of Denmark's Frederic overawed her foes; A gentle Empress wore the Russian crown; Amid the gilded domes of Moscow rose The ancient palace of her mighty Czars, Adorn'd with trophies of their glorious wars.

Altho' the glory of the Pole was stain'd, Still Warsaw glitter'd with a courtly train, And o'er her land Augustus Frederic reign'd; Joseph in Portugal, and Charles in Spain-- Louis in France, while in imperial state O'er Prussia's realm ruled Frederic the Great.

In gloomy grandeur, on the Ottoman throne Sat proud Mustapha. Kerim Khan was great Amid fair Persia's sons; his sword was one That served a friend, but crush'd a rival's hate: O'er ancient China, and her countless throng, Reign'd the bold Tartar mighty Kian Long.

America then held a common horde Of strange adventurers; with bloody blade The Frenchman ruled--the Englishman was lord-- The haughty Spaniard, o'er his conquests sway'd-- While the wild Indian, driven from his home, Ranged far and lawless, in the forest's gloom.

Thus was the world when last yon Comet blazed Above our earth. On its celestial light Proudly the free American may gaze: Nations that last beheld its rapid flight Are fading fast; the rest no more are known, While his has risen to a mighty one.

EXTRACTS FROM MY MEXICAN JOURNAL.

Mexico--Procession of Nuestra Señora de los Remedios--Visit to the Country--Society and Manners in Mexico--Climate.

20th June, 1825. Since our arrival on the 25th May, my occupations have been such as to prevent my seeing many of the _lions_ of Mexico. I have, however, walked through the principal streets, and visited most of the churches, of which some are very rich and splendid--some are ancient and venerable--others are fine and gaudy--while a few of the more modern are extremely neat and handsome. The churches are numerous: these, with the convents, occupy almost every alternate square of the city; but with all this show of religion, there is a proportionate degree of vice among its population.

The city is, indeed, magnificent; many of the buildings are spacious. The streets are not wide, but well paved--clean in the most frequented, but excessively filthy in the more remote parts, and thronged with dirty, diseased, deformed, and half naked creatures. Disgusting sights every moment present themselves. At the corners of every street--each square is called a street, and bears a distinct name,--at the doors of the churches which you must be passing constantly in your walks--and sometimes in the areas of the private residences, you are importuned by miserable beggars, some of whom, not satisfied with a modest refusal, chase you into charity, which you are not assured is well bestowed.

We meet in the streets very few well dressed people; the ladies seldom walk, except to mass early in the morning, when some pretty faces are seen.

Such is the character of the street-population of Mexico. So much filth, so much vice, so much ignorance are rarely found elsewhere combined. Those who have seen the lazzaroni of Naples, may form a faint idea of the _leperos_ of Mexico.

The _leperos_ are most dexterous thieves--none can be more expert in relieving you of your pocket handkerchief; it is unsafe to trust them within your doors. I knew an American who had his hat stolen from under the bench on which he was seated in the Cathedral listening to a sermon![1]

[Footnote 1: A very ingenious theft by one of this class was mentioned to me by an American who was present when it took place. At a fair in the interior of the country, two Americans were seated on a bench engaged in conversation, one of them having his hat by his side with his hand upon it for its protection. Talking earnestly he occasionally uplifted his hand from the hat. On his rising from his seat, he was surprised to find in his hand not his own beaver, but an inferior one which had been substituted for it. At an incautious moment he had ceased to guard it; a hat was there when he put down his hand--but it was not his own.]

They are superstitious, too, almost to idolatry. I may here include with them the better class of people also. The recent reception of the image of _Nuestra Senora de los Remedios_, (Our Lady of Remedies,) I give as evidence of the justice of this remark. Her history is briefly this. She is a deity of Spanish origin--the more highly esteemed Lady of _Guadalupe_--the patron saint of Mexico, is indigenous. She accompanied the conquerors to the city of _Muteczuma_[2]--was lost in their disastrous retreat on the celebrated _noche triste_--was found some years afterwards, in 1540, seated in a _maguey_, by an Indian, _Juan de Aguila_, who carried her to his dwelling, and fed her with _tortillas_, (Indian corn-cakes,) which were regularly deposited in the chest where she was kept. Suddenly she fled, and was discovered on the spot where her temple now stands--the place to which Cortes retreated on the night of his flight from the city. It is an eminence to the west of Mexico, distant about five miles.

[Footnote 2: Cortés, in his Letters, writes the name of the Emperor of Mexico, _Muteczuma_. Humboldt says, I know not on what authority, that _Moteuczoma_ was his name. The English historians always call him Montezuma.]

This identical image, they say, still exists--it is about eight inches in height--it is richly decorated. It is believed to possess the power of bringing rain, and of staying the ravages of disease.

{11} For many days previous to her entrance into the city, great preparations had been made. On the 11th inst. she was conveyed from her sanctuary in the President's coach, which was driven by a nobleman of the old regime, the _Marques de Salvatierra_, bare headed, and attended by a large number of coaches, and crowds of people on foot, to the _parroquia de Santa Vera Cruz_, a church just within the limits of the city. Here, as is usual, she was to rest one night, and on the following evening to proceed to the Cathedral. Before the appointed time, the streets leading to it were covered with canopies of canvass; draperies were suspended from every balcony, and strings of shawls and handkerchiefs stretched across, were seen fluttering in the wind. A regiment of troops marched out to form her escort, and thousands flocked to join her train. But a heavy rain began to fall, and the procession was necessarily postponed, the populace being delighted to find that the intercession of Our Lady was of so much avail, and their faith strengthened at the trifling expense of wet jackets. The procession was now appointed for an early hour the next _morning_, (a _prudent_ arrangement, for it rains, in course, every evening, the rainy season having commenced,) and preparations were again made with increased zeal, proportionate with the gratitude felt at so prompt a dispensation of her Ladyship's favors. Two regiments of infantry and one of cavalry now composed the escort. The concourse of people was immense. Wax tapers, lanterns, candle-boxes, flags, and all the frippery of the churches were carried to grace the occasion; children dressed fantastically, with wings, and gay decorations upon their heads, but barefooted, with tapers in their hands, were led by their parents or nurses to take part in the pageant.

After the procession was formed, a discharge of artillery announced the departure of the holy image from the church, in which she had until now rested. The advance was a corps of cavalry, followed by flocks of ragged Indians, by respectable citizens and the civil authorities, all bearing lighted wax tapers; then followed the numerous religious orders, each order preceded by an Indian carrying on his back a huge mahogany candle-box; the higher dignitaries of the order, with their hands meekly folded on their breasts, each attended by two assistants, bringing up the rear of Carmelites, Augustines, Franciscans, Dominicans, and Mercedarians; next these were other Indians, followed by the _angelic_ little children, who strew roses before the object of their adoration, _La Santa Virgen de los Remedios_, who stands majestically under a canopy, richly clothed, and surrounded by gilded ornaments, supported by four men. As she passed, the people who crowded the streets, and all who fill the windows under which she is carried, knelt, and roses are showered upon her from the roofs of the houses. Next her was another canopy, under which the Host was carried, to which the people also knelt. The troops brought up the rear, escorting Our Lady to the Cathedral, where she remains nine days. If it rain during this time, it is ascribed to her influence. If rain precede her entrance, it is because she was to be brought into the city; and if it follow her departure, it is the consequence of her late presence. The miracle, of course, never fails. After the rainy season has set in, she is introduced annually for the idolatrous worship of this ignorant, superstitious people--not only the _canaille_, but also the most respectable portion of the community.

14th August, 1825. I returned to the city yesterday after an excursion of a week in the vicinity of _Chalco_, about twenty-five or thirty miles distant. We were invited by an acquaintance to his _hacienda_, where he promised fine sport with our guns. Not content with abundance of deer, we were to return with the spoils of sundry wild animals, such as wild-cats, bears, panthers, wolves and tigers. Prepared for ferocious contests, we set out with all the eagerness of huntsmen who feast in their imagination on their slaughtered prey. But in fact, though to hunt was our ostensible object, from which we expected little, although entertained by our friend with extravagant hopes, we left the city chiefly for the purpose of exercise, of viewing the country, and avoiding the water, which, at this season of the year, impregnated with the soda which the heavy rains disengage from the soil, deals sadly with strangers.

A ride of five or six hours brought us to the _hacienda_. This, I have elsewhere said, is a country seat, generally of large extent, with a chapel forming a part of the building, and surrounded by the reed or mud huts of the Indians, who are the laborers, or, as it were, vassals of the estate. A plain, thickly strewed with these _haciendas_, presents the appearance of numerous villages, each with its steeple and bell. The buildings are hollow squares, extensive and commodious, and embracing in their several ranges the usual conveniences of a farm, such as stables, and yards for poultry, sheep and cattle. They all have a look of antiquity, of strength and durability, which, at a distance, is imposing; but on nearer view, they are commonly found dilapidated, and devoid of neatness, and destitute of the garden and the orchard, which give so much the appearance of comfort to the country houses of the United States.