LITTELLS LIVING AGE. From the North British Review. tive of border feud can exceed it in interest. We Lives of Simon Lord Lovat, and Duncan Forbes of read it now with far livelier feelings than it would Culloden. From original Sources. By JOHN have produced in his own age; for, in proportion to HILL BURTON, Advocate, Author of The Life the maturity of our civilization, is our interest in the of David Hume. London, 1847. portraiture of ruder timesthe novelty of the de- scriptions being aided in producing this effect, by a WE lately had occasion in this journal, to con- latent contrast in favor of present comforts. Since sider at some length the more prominent features thena century has passed awaydynasties have of the Jacobitism of the last age. Our remarks been extinguished ~Europc has been revolution- were confined chiefly to the effects produced by the ized, and its social condition has undergone a change commotions arising out of the downfall of an an- more complete than had been felt in all the previous cient dynasty, on the general interests of the coun- ages since the Crusades. try, rather than on the destiny of individuals. The Lovat was born iii the year 1676, in the reign of generalities with which, with such an object, we Charles the Second. He was the second son of the were obliged to deal, compelled us to disregard peer of Lovat, and was early sent to the University many of those picturesque details of individual biog- of Aberdeen, at which he appears to have been dii -raphy, which constitute the most interesting part igent. He acquired there the extensive acquaint- of this branch of Scottish history; and it is there- ance with the precepts of morality, scattered fore with much gratification, that we are now en- through the ancient classics, and which he applied abled to fill up blanks that were unavoidable, by a with much facility and tact in the exigencies of his rapid sketch of the story of one of the leading Jac- subsequent career. Is there any man who accuses obites, and of one of the few prominent royalists him of treachery, which at the particular moment whose oame has descended to us untarnished by it did not suit his purpose to disclose, he cites you incapacity or cruelty. fsom Virgil the pictnre of a good roan, the victim When we glance over the history of the Jacobites, of the worlds slander, and the object of divine com- even in th~tqnost fortunate and happy moments, miseration. ;is he anxious to condole with one we are amazed~ to find how little of real ability they whose father or brother he has hurried to his ac- displayed an~ b~w, in4ead of conduct rising with count, he brings from Seneca solemn reflections on the occasion, theyAvasted themselves in a fondness mortality; and if lie wishes to describe a patriots of transient applause-.-courted by vanity, given by death, he applies to himself the language of Horace, flattery, and vanishing in show, like the qualities as to the beatific rapture consequent on dying for which, acquired it. Such were Mar and all the ones country. leaders of the first rebellion; and if there was more After leaving the university, his first act was to self-sacrifice in the Jacobites of the 45, they have induce his cousin, the then Lord Lovat, to endeavor little claim to respect on the score of energy in im- to disinherit his only child, a daughter, and to call proving victory or remedying defeat. There was to the succession to the honors and estates Simons one exception to the mediocrity, which would, ere father and himself, as the i~earesf fri~1e-heirs. The this, have covered them with oblivion, were it not cousin died in the year 1696, and then began a long for the heroism of their deaths; and he who organ- struggle, which occupied about thirty years, be- ized, and as often betrayed their schemes, who tween Lovat on the one hand, and the heiress and crushed the first rebellion, and was himself over- her friends on the other, in regard to the succes- whelmed in the second, deserves notice as well from sion. Her uncle, the Marquis of Athole, was at the historical importance he has thus obtained, as that time influential with the government; and from from the extraordinary exhibition of character he that influence, anti the violence of his opponent, he has left us, and the extraordinary adventures of was enabled to direct against Lovat the whole ar- which he was the hero. In Lovats life will he tilleryof the law, wilh ~vhich, indeed, the latter had found a better insight into the social, and therefore a stand-up fight until the day of his death. Athole real condition of the people of the north of Scotland, first attempted to soothe his ambition or work upon in the transition-time in which he lived, than can his fears; but the terms offered were either insuffi- be found anywhere out of the Waverley Novels. cient in value or in security, and they were rejected; He joins together the old age of feudal misrule, and as Lovat is the sole historian of the transaction, and that of settled governmentconnecting the they were rejected with the indignation becoming a reigns of the last Stuarts with the era of Hume and virtuous man insulted, Robertson, and the kindred spirits who threw so I do not know what hinders me, knave and bright a light on the commencement of our literary coward as you are, from running my sword through history. His biography has thus a charm in illtis- your body. You are well known for a poltroon; trating both epochs by his own example. The fen- and if you had one grain of courage, & c. & c. dal tyrant in the wilds of Strathericka law unto These were the brave words put together in the himselfexercising unbounded power over the lives security of after years, when, in a fit of Jacobitism, and fortunes of a numerous vassalage, is found he composed what he jocosely terms Memoirs of united in the person of the same man who shone as his Life ; and in which all his powers of imagina- a courtier in the palace of Louis le Grandwho tion as to facts are well illustrated. If there was was the correspondent and friend of literary men, one characteristic of the man, it was the hypocrisy and devoted much of his leisure to writing pious with which he rubbed gently down any victim on letters to the pious. There is, too, so much of the whom lie had designsthe words of eastern adula- bandit in this mans history, that no fictitious narra- tion with which he plied his Vanity, and the patience CLXIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XIV. 1 LITTELLS LIVING AGE. From the North British Review. Lives of Simon Lord Lovat, and Duncan Forbes of Culloden. From original Sources. By JOHN HILL BURTON, Advocate, Author of The Life of David Hume. London, 1847. WE lately had occasion in this journal, to con- sider at some length the more prominent features of the Jacobitism of the last age. Our remarks were confined chiefly to the effects produced by the commotions arising out of the downfall of an an- cient dynasty, on the general interests of the coun- try, rather than on the destiny of individuals. The generalities with which, with such an object, we were obliged to deal, compelled us to disregard many of those picturesque details of individual biog- raphy, which constitute the most interesting part of this branch of Scottish history; and it is there- fore with much gratification, that we are now en- abled to fill up blanks that were unavoidable, by a rapid sketch of the story of one of the leading Jac- obites, and of one of the few prominent royalists whose name has descended to us untarnished by incapacity or cruelty. When we glance over the history of the Jacobites, even in thei~post fortunate and happy moments, we are amaze~,to find how little of real ability they displayed; an~~ Mxv, instead of conduct rising with the occasion, they~vasted themselves in a fondness of transient applause-~-courted by vanity, given by flattery, and vanishing in show, like the qualities which acquired it. Such were Mar and all the leaders of the first rebellion; and if there was more self-sacrifice in the Jacobites of the 45, they have little claim to respect on the score of energy in im- proving victory or remedying defeat. There was one exception to the mediocrity, which would, ere this, have covered them with oblivion, were it not for the heroism of their deaths; and he who organ- ized, and as often betrayed their schemes, who crushed the first rebellion, and was himself over- whelmed in the second, deserves notice as well from the historical importance he has thus obtained, as from the extraordinary exhibition of character he has left us, ,and the extraordinary adventures of which he was the hero. In Lovats life will he found a better insight into the social, and therefore real condition of the people of the north of Scotland, in the transition-time in which he lived, than can be found any~vhere out of the Waverley Novels. He joins together the old age of feudal misrule, and that of settled governmentconnecting the reigns of the last Stuarts with the era of House and Robertson, and the kindred spirits who threw so bright a light on the commencement of our literary history. His biography has thus a charm in illus- trating both epochs hy his own example. The feu- dal tyrant in the wilds of Strathericka law unto himselfexercising unbounded po~ver over the lives and fortunes of a numerous vassalage, is found united in the person of the same man who shone as a courtier in the palace of Louis le Grandwho was the correspondent and friend of literary men, and devoted much of his leisure to writing pious letters to the pious. There is, too, so much of the bandit in this mans history, that no fictitious narra CLXIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiv. 1 tive of border feud can exceed it in interest. We read it now with far livelier feelings than it would have produced in his own age; for, in proportion to the maturity of our civilization, is our interest in the portraiture of ruder timesthe novelty of the de- scriptions being aided in producing this effect, by a latent contrast in favor of present comfirts. Since thena century has passed awaydynasties have been extinguished ;Europe has been revolution- ized, and its social condition has undergone a change more complete than had been felt in all the previous ages since the Crusades. Lovat was born in the year 1676, in the reign of Charles the Second. He was the second son of the peer of Lovat, and was early sent to the University of Aberdeen, at which he appears to have been dil- igent. He acquired there the extensive acquaint- ance with the precepts of morality, scattered through the ancient classics, and which he applied with much facility and tact in the exigencies of his subseqtient career. Is there any man who accuses him of treachery, which at the particular moment it did not suit his purpose to disclose, he cites you f~om Virgil the picture of a good man, the victim of the worlds slander, and the object of divine com- miseration. ;is he anxious to condole with one whose father or brother he has hurried to his ac- count, he brings from Seneca solemn reflections on mortality; and if lie wishes to describe a patriof s death, he applies to himself the language of Horace, as to the beatific rapture consequent on dying fot one s country. After leaving the university, his first act was to induce his cousin, the then Lord Lovat, to endeavor to disinherit his only child, a daughter, and to call to the succession to the honors and estates Simons father and himself, as the itearest fri6ie-heirs. The C00510 (lied in the year 1696, and then began a long struggle, which ocetipied about thirty years, be- tween Lovat on the one hand, and the heiress and her friends on the other, in regard to the succes- sion. Her uncle, the Marquis of Athole, was at that time influential with the government; and from that influence, and the violence of his opponent, he was enabled to direct against Lovat the whole ar- tilleryof the law, with ~vhich, indeed, the latter had a stand-up fight until the day of his death. Athole first attempted to soothe his ambition or work upon his fears; hut the terms offered were either insuffi- cient in value or in security, and they were rejected and as Lovat is the sole historian of the transaction, they were rejected with the indignation becoming a virtuous man insulted, I do not know what hinders me, knave and coward as you are, from running my sword through your body. You are well known for a poltroon; and if you had one grain of courage, & c. & c. These were the brave words put together in the security of after years, when, in a fit of Jacobitism, he composed what he jocosely terms Memoirs of his Life ; and in which all his powers of imagina- tion as to facts are ~vell illustrated. If there was one characteristic of the man, it was the hypocrisy with which he rubbed gently down any victim on whom lie had designsthe words of eastern adula- tion with which he plied his vanity, and the patience LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. with which he suppressed the appearance of his half-rol~ber, half-savage ferocitycovering its out- breaks, by bewailing it always as the indiscreet zeal of an unruly clan. Being somewhat diffident as to the result of a litigation with the Marquis of Athole, acting for his niece, he devised and executed, far away among his Highland hills, a scheme worthy of his genius, and direct and speedy in its results. In after life, when experience had sharpened his capacity, we find spe- cific foresights and preparations for all contingen- cies, untit success had made him presumptuous, and the relaxation of age had unstrung his vigor; but in his eager pursuit of the inheritance, his caution overleaped itself, and he fell on the other side, into a number of difficulties, for which he was obliged to endure, many a year, a vagabond life of wander- ing. An unsuccessful attempt to marry the heiress was followed by the next best thinga successful one to marry her mother. This lady was at the time living at Castle Dounie, the old seat of the Erasers; and, without any warning, she one morn- ing received a visit from Lovat, who carried her, screaming for mercy, to an inaccessible retreat uscd by him in his more recondite schemes. The old castle is now in ruins. The victors of Culloden, after their labors on the field avere ended, devoted themselves to the destruction of the strong- holds of the rebel chiefs; and Castle Dounie was among the number. In the vaults of this pile, Lovat kept the victims on whom he meant to operate; but when clamant reasons of expediency demanded it, he furnished to them a more secure retreat from worldly distractions. An island of the name of Aigas, in the midst of the rapid Beauly, which bub- bles and rushes past it with resistless violence, formed an excellent natural prison, to which the dow~ger-peeress was immediately conducted. The account of the marriage has been taken from the records of the judicial proceedings, immediately instituted by her infuriated family. The said Captain Simon Fraser takes up the most mad and villanous resolution that ever was heard (if; for, all in a sudden, he and his said aec(iinplicas make the lady close prisoner tinder his armed guards, and then come upon her with three or four ruffians in the night time and havino dragged out her maids, lie proposes to the lady that she should marry him and when she fell in larnentin, and crying, the great pipe was blown lip to drown her cries, and the ~vicked villains ordered the min- ister to proceed. The lady fainted. and bemoaned to the idle winds; the bagpipe is blown up as formerly, an(l the fore- said ruffians rent off her clothes, cutting icr stays with their dirks, and so thrust her into hed. The succeeding morning displayed her in all the agony of outraged honor. her face swollen, and stupefied with grief. For Christs sake. she implored one of the witnesses at Lovata trial, take me out of this l)lace either dead or alive. The house at the same time was surrounded by armed ruffians, who played up the bagpipe, when returning con- sciousness enabled the lady to express her sufferings by her screams. The Scottish privy courcil, who, in the absence of the sovereign, conducted the government of Scot- land, found the doings of Lovat to come peculiarly within their jurisdiction. They accordingly de- barred the lieges from giving him and his father food or lodging, and commission was given to a commander of troops to enter his domains and seize him, dead or alive. The army in Scotland at that period was small enough; but Lovat in his usual grandiloquent style, in his later life, made the most of what he termed the several regiments of cav- aIry and dragoons, whom he of course defeated, and ~vhom he laid under the sanction of an oath, when he thought it unnecessary to keep them prisoners: They renounced their claims in Jesus Christ, and their hopes of heaven, and delivered themselves to the devil and all the torments of hell, if they ever returned into the territories of Lord Lovat, or occa- sioned directly or indirectly the smallest mischief to Lord Lovat. Lovat was tried in the court of justiciary, for having assembled in arms, with his followers, and carried off Lord Saltoun, who had gone to the as- sistance of the heiress. This act, according to the wide sweep of the criminal law of those days, was construed into treasonconviction followed; and his name and honors, with those of his father, were declared forever extinct, and their lands and posses- sions forfeited. He was the last man tried in Scot- land, where a conviction was obtained, and a sen- tence pronounced, in the absence of the accused. In the midst of these difficulties his father died, and he immediately assumed the title. But this increase of rank brought no cessation to the cease- less pursuit which followed his conviction. From one fastness to another, from valley to mountain, he was hunted with unrelenting perseverance, deriving from his clan a precarious subsistence. Away in the remote regions of Glen Strathfarar and Strath- crick, he kept up a band of devoted desperadoes, by whose ready assistance he carried on the war against the flying parties from Fort-William. Over his own people his influence had no limits. He once mildly said, that the Highland clans, to a man, would regard it as their honor and boast to cut the throat, or blow out the brains of any one, be he who he would, who should dare to disturb the repose of their laird. The indolence of the Highlanders is proverbial; and they may also be set down as among the dirtiest even of Ceks. If it is so in our day, when every motive to exertion exists, in the near community (if an active pcupulation, it was far more so in that uf Luuvat, when our civilization was young. ~Vhat the bravoes were in Italy, the retainers of a High- land chief might be considered herethey kept themselves, atud paul their rent in the personal ser- vices rendered to their lord. Lovat found, in the course of a long life of ~var upon the world, many occasi(ins for tinhesitatitug service. He made it a 1oint of sacred policy to keep his vassals in train- ing; and ito mart of the last age did more to pre- serve alive the feeling of clanship throughout the half-savage regions uuf the northmaking obedience to the chief be regarded in the light of an honorable uluty. If there was some danger in this kind of existence, it had its advantages in its ease and idle- ness. Their houseless heads arid unfed sides, their looped anul windowed raggedness, were mat- ters that their thorough goiti de la vie vagabonde made endurable; far more so, at least, than the monotonous pursuits of peaceful industry. At last, Lovat found that he was unable to cope with the fiurces sent against him; and having, by skilful flattery of Argyle, at that time the dictator of Scottish affairs, obtaineul his interest with King William, he hurriedly left Scotland, and presented himself, in pursuit of pardon, before that monarch in the Low Countries. He was so far successful, that he received a qualified pardon. It remitted all 2 LORD LOVAI AND DUNCAN FORBES. the crimes for which he had been already tried; leaving the outrage on Lady Lovat yet unreprieved. The former proceedings being thus quashed, he was cited, at the instigation of Athole, to stand trial on the 17th February, 1701, for the abduction of the dowager. Here again he made no appearance at the trialproceeding coolly to manage his estates and to keep up a horde of retainersto levy rents, and to act with as much vigor, as if he had been the undoubted owner of property, handed down to him unchallenged through a long line of ancestors. He was declared an outlaw, and was again com- pelled to flee his country. He sought a refuge from the pursuit in France, leaving his brother John to act as lieutenant in his absence, to exact rents, levy contributions, and keep the whole district of the Aird and Stratherick in commotion. To meet this, the privy council, at the instance of the heiress, issued an abundance of orders an.d proclamations; and, as was their custom with disobedient districts, they hounded out upon the Frasers some neighbor- ing clans to ravage and desolate. At this period, Lovat was uncertain whether or not the Stuarts would be restored; and upon this depended the course to be adopted, amid the diffi- culties by which he was surrounded. Upon the whole, it seemed more probable that they would. Shortly after the commencement of the reign of Anne, her opinions began to glide into the jure- (livinity toryism at which they settled. She had no violent antipathies against her brother; and if she had no violent affection to gratify by his restor- ation, there was at least a greater probability that she would lean to this, than call an obscure German elector to the throne held for generations by her ftmily. Minds as astute as Lovats, and nearer the scene, were deceived by such appearances even at a later date, when the quarrel with Marlborough and his duchess sealed the doom of the whigs. In the mean time, Lovat, who cared nothing for the person who filled the throne, provided his own inter- ests ~vere not affected, did no disgrace to his sagac- ity in adhering at that time to the Stuarts. Prior to the union, indeed, there were circum- stances that might have been worked up into a national cause, under which they might have been restored. From the accesson of Anne, down to the incorporation of the parliaments, causes of dispute between the two countries, productive of exasper- ation, jealousy and distrust, were hourly occurring. There was first the celebrated Darien scheme, anni- hilated by William to conciliate the English East India Company; but whose train of disasters were not terminated in the reign of Anne. The massacre of Glcncoe, left behind it a deep feeling of insult and of wrong. Then followed the seizure of the English ship Worcester, and the execution (insisted for by die Edinburgh rabble) of Captain Green, and two of his crewa judicial murder, perpetrated against evidence, against the convictions of the judges, and against the will of government. Of all the men of note in this matter, the only person who appears to have had moral courage to resist the popular fury ~vas Duncan Forbes, then a young student at college, who, in the debate on the Por- teous riots in the house of commons, referred with honest pride to an incident of his early life, when he had the courage, in the midst of a universal fury, to expose the pusillanimity of the privy council, who signed the order for the execution. I was, said the orator, so struck with the horror of the fact, that I put myself in deep mourning, and with the danger of my life, attended the innocent but unfor tunate men to the scaffold, where they died with the most affecting protestations of their innocence I did not stop here, for I carried the head of Cap- tain Green to the grave; and in a few months after, letters came from the captain for whose murder, and from the very ship for whose capture, the unfor- ttinate men suffered, informing their friends that they were all safe. This execution was resented in England as a national insult, and produced a bitterness scarcely credible at the present day. Then came the vexed subject of the succession to the crownthe fruitful source of national jealousy, followed as it nearly was by actual hostilities. At last the noted act of security of the Scottish parlia- ment was passed. It was magnified in England into a declaration of absolute independence, and was followed up by an act of the English parlia- ment, professing to remedy its alleged mischiefs. This last act was effectually a declaration of open war by England against Scotland, unless in a few months the crown should be settled on the German elector. Matters had, by these means, come to a crisis at the end of the year 1705. The people in both nations had revived the national hatreds which had slept for many years. Nay, even the very govern- ments of the same sovereign seemed determined to run counter to one another in all their councils; and every parliament wished only to outstrip its predecessor in heaping insult upon the other coun- try, and placing obstructions on its commerce. England laid a new impost upon Scottish cloth; Scotland prohibited all the English woollen manu- facture in general, and exported all her own wool to the continent; the sister country thereupon pro- ceeded to prohibit the importation of Scottish cattle, and to interrupt by force our long-established trade with France. It was unfortunate for the Stuarts, that amid all these conflicting elements of disunion, they had no able head to plan a national conspiracy. There were, indeed, many plots at this period, hatched on their behalf, but they all came to nothing, through the treachery or imprudence of their agents. X~/ e shall immediately see the i)art a(lopted by Lovat, in regard to one of the most feasible of these, which he himself concocted and destroyed. On his arrival in France, he proceeded to the country-house where embryo statesmen resolved and re-resolved upon the aiThirs of Europe. James the II. had carried his single-minded bigotry to the grave, and Mary of Modena became openly, ~vhat she bad in reality ever been, the source and life spring of Jacobitical intrigue. To her, Lovat applied himself with his accustomed dexterity and Highland shrewdness. lIe appeared before her with protestations of inviolable attachment; and, what was more to the purpose, he made assurances as to the fidelity of the clans, lie never, indeed, neglected the great principle of accommodation to his company, in/er lupos ululendum. A short time, however, had elapsed, when he saw through the whole farce of the do-nothing secretaries, and en- deavored to free himself from the idle kind of life to which he was doomed. It was here he devised the only scheme that was ever practical for the restoration of the Stuarts. England being furiously Protestant, arid Lowland Scotland sternly Presby- terian, it was hopeless to look there for a successful rising. Through the Highlands alonethe strong- hold of the Stuart familycould an impression be made; and, accordingly, Lovat fixed upon the weak point with a sagacity that experience justified. 3 4 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. To give his scheme feasibility, he drew of course largely upon his imagination, in statiug himself to be the authorized agent of the clans. The last days of the glory of old Louis le Grand were approaching; but the prestige of the name that had long awed Europe still survived. The victories of Malborough at this period of 1702, when Lovat lauded in France, had not yet convinced the world that he was no longer the invincible; and Mr. Burton somewhat anticipates the desolation which overtook the French monarchy. With the old monarch, Lovat obtained an interview, and impressed hima shrewd judge of characterwith a high notion of his abilities. He retired from the presence of the king, to consult ~vith his ministers; and while his proposals were cautiously received, he had the satisfaction of being sent back to his own country for further information, and with an assur- ance of assistance on any favorable conjuncture. On his arrival in Scotland, he had some interviews with the Highland chiefs, when a new light as to his own interest dawned upon him. He immedi- ately wiped his hands of his mission, and one night entered the presence of the Duke of Queensherry, the commissioner to the Scottish parliament, with the startling intelligence of the organization of a rebellion. The duke, overjoyed at being the in- strument through whom such important information was procured, entertained Lovat with some mon- ey, and many promises. The government, on being informed of the matter, became alarmed, as the account implicated men who had much to lose, and who would, therefore, not rush blindly into rebellion. A message was conveyed to parliament, and strong resolutions were passed. TTI e Marquis of Athole, one of the parties falsely implicated by Lovat, havinggot intelligence of the trap laid for him, immediately addressed the queen, in a memo- rial, which exposed the character of his assailant, and the means by which Quecusberry had been duped, in crediting all his iuformanfs calumnies. The affair vanished in smoke. No evidence could be found against any of the Jacobites; and the Q ueensberry plot added another to the hundred-and one plots of the day, leaving Lovat in the disaaree- able position of having fallen between two stools. Being under sentence of outlawry still, Athole opened the bull-dogs of the law once more upon him in full cry, and once more he was obliged to retire to the continent. Rotterdam was the place he selected as a kind of neutral position, from which he could soothe the roused spirits of the Scottish Jac- obites and the Court of St. Germains on the one hand, and also induce the English government, on the other, to retain him in their pay. With all his invincible humor of lying, it was difficult for him, in telling this portion of his history, to prevent some inkling of the truth. The Jacobites discovered some of his letters; and as there was no destroying the relation of identity between twice two and four, it was impossible to avoid the a~vkward conclusion to which his Jacobite friends found themselves obliged to come. To some he put his defence for betraying them, upon the uround of anxiety to serve their interest ; and nothing can be better than the mode in which the paradox is suliported. With regard to others again, who had not so clear evi- dence against him, he took the easier course of indignant denial I believe, he writes from Liege to a Scotch Jaco- bite, all the devils are got loose to torment mewith you I am abused, ruined, and my reputation torn. Here I suffer by those whom I served, and am treated like a traitor and a villain, and if I had not had good friends here of strangers, I had perished like a dog. I do not yet know what my fate will be; but I have dear bought my conversation with those you call my real friends. You tell me that K. (Keith?) betrayed me to A., (Athole,) and now we hear of his sufferings for me; but none in Eng- land could wrong me (anglice, cxpose him) but he or you, and if either of you has wronged me, I cannot trust myself, or any flesh and blood ; my comfort is, that I neither betrayed my trust or my friends, nor would not for the universe (! ). For my part I believe the day of judgment is at hand, foi I see a great many of the symptons of it. After ~vaiting at Rotterdam for some time, he found it expedient to quit it in the disguise of a Dutch officer; and having fled to France, he was very disagreeably astonished, by being immediately seized, and encaged in the Bastile, or in the Castle of Angoul~me. We have followed the history of this strange being, whose moral nature was as rotten as his intellect was acute, aided by the certain light of contemporary (locuments. He now, however, glides off the public stage, beyond the view of the letter- writers, and the reach of the legal warrants, which have enabled us hitherto to follow him. For ten years he lived in France, and during part of that time, there can be no doubt he was in prison. He appears, however, to have been liberated, and to have taken holy orders, joined the Jesuits at St. Omer, and, according to some accounts, to have officiated as cur6 at that city. During his protracted absence, the heiress of Lovat had married a gentleman of the name of MKenzie, who had got hold of the estates, but not of the affections of the clan. They ever regarded Lovat as their chief; and deep was their sorrow, when a report was spread, that he had rotted in the Bastile. No communication appears to have been allowed between him and his vassals in Scot- land; and, as a last resource, they determined to send a special embassy to discover, and if possible relieve him. The person selected was a Major Fraser, who has given an anmusing account of the disastrous chances he suffered in his journey. Having discovered his chief among the Jesuits at St. Omer, it was found impossible to obtain the con- sent of the French authorities to his liberation. The two acc(irdingly concerted an escape, which they effected by means of an open boat, which landed them on the English shore in the year 1714, at the critical moment of the death of Queen Anne. His arrival in London being soon kmiown, his old enemy Athole otmee more set the officers of the law upon his track, and he only found rest to his weary footsteps, when he arrived among the wide solitudes of his own mountains. Ihe rebellion of the 15 was raging on his arri- val in the north. The indecisive battle of Sheriff- muir proclaimed the weakness of government, and the danger of energetic action on the part of the Jacobites. It was fortunate, therefore, that so influential and clever a man as Lovat, in the vigor of manhood, and with his abilities sharpened by experience, sided with the government, and recalled the whole clan of the Frasers who had gone to join tIme rebels. As soon as they returned, he put him- self at their head, and along with Duncan Forbes, reduced the town of Inverness, on the day that the battle of Sheriffmuir was fought. This quieted the north. It prevented many from engaging in the rebellion, and cut off the communication between LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. the rebel army and the source of its supplies. It had the effect, indeed, of extinguishing the rebellion throughout the country; and on its importance Lovat did not fail duly to descant. This, he said, was the greatest service that was done in this country to any king. The first fruit of gratitude, was his unqualified pardon, and the gift of the forfeited estates of MKenzie, the heiress husband, who had joined the rebels. He thus obtained a legal title to the life interest of the Lovat estates; and it was lucky for his neighbors, that his attempt to obtain the full property kept him in litigation for many years. When he went north, he found Duncan Forbes fortifying Culloden House, and immediately struck up a strong attachment for a young la~vyer who had the ear of Argyle, and was rising fast to influence and honor. Indeed, there was nothing to which Lovat more devoted his attention, than the securing the support of young men evidently rising in the world, and who would be likely to remember it when themselves great men. It was this which induced him, in a field near Edinburgh, now a street, to entwine his arms in endea~ng rapture round the neck of Henry Home, and protest how much he Was overwhelmed by his beauty. Haud awa, said the embryro Lord Kames, I ken very weel that I am the ugliest and most black-a-vised fellow in a the court of session: you needna think to impose upon me wi your fair-fashioned speeches. Hae dnnehae dune ! Weel, Harry, said Lovat, ye re the first man I ever met with wha had the sense to withstand flattery. Thank ye, my lordvery glad to hear ye say it. Et rem acu tetigerat. To secure the grant of the Lovat estates, the legal knowledge of Forbes was put under requisition. I want a gift of the escheat (forfeited property) to make me easy; but if it does not do, you must find me some pretence or other, that will give me a title to~ keep possession. He also implored Forbes to prevent the pardon of his neighbors Glengarry and The Chisbolm, and to divert some of their for- feitures his way. In the midst of the war of litigation, which he found it necessary to set agoing, to secure the estates, he appears to have tried the honesty of his agent to the utmost. The scrupulous writer to the signet, ~vas under the necessity of reading a lecture to his master; and he received, in answer, a detail of those principles which ought to guide a practical man, in his intercourse with mankind. I had, said Lovat, the honor of your fine morale and philosophicale letter by this post, and tho it is writ in a very pathetick, smooth way, yet I have read so many good authors on the subject, without being able to reduce their advice to prac- tice, that an epistle from a Scotch lawyer, can have but very little influence on me, that now by long experience knows, that those fine moral reflections are no more but a play of our intellectuals. You may give me as many bonnie words as you please, but words will never gain me the estate of Lovat, nor my peerage, without assiduously acting that part I ought, to get that effectuat; and though some people charged me with liking some of the Roman Catholic principles, yet I do assure you, that I do not expect new miracles in my favors, and that I am fully resolved to use all the ordinary meanes in my power to save my family. I must tell you I nlwise observed, since I came to kno~v anything in the world, that an active man with a small under- standing, will finish business, and succeed better in his affairs, than an indolent, lazy man of the bright- est sense, and of the most solid judgment; so, since I cannot flatter myself to have a title to the last character, I ought to thank God that I am of a very active temper, and I 11 be so far from relenting that Ill double my activity if possible. The dispute relative to the estate, was referred to the arbitration of two lawyers of eminence, who, in deciding in Lovats favor, fixed upon him a small burden to the persecuted MKenzie. I have, said Lovat, with his Highland emphasis of expres- sion, been cheated, abused, sold; my papers embezzled, robbed, and given up to my enemies; in short, treacherously, villanously, and ungratefully betrayed and sold. Upon the authors of his wrongs he pours forth at length, consigning them ultimately to the contempt of mankind and the judgment of Heaven. Litigation operated as a sedative on the corrosions of unabsorbed energy, under which he chafed. But having brought his lawsuits to a triumphant close, he began, as was the manner of Highland lairds, to birse yont ; and thus by gradual squat- ting on the grounds of a neighbor, contrived, by the aid of a little confusion as to the principle of property, to appropriate now and then a field, or perhaps a mountain, or a loch. If the neighbor grew troublesome and grumbled at these inroads, he generally received a visit from Lovats gillies, who were reasonable, if they did no more than bough his cattle, or fire his house about his ears. He never in this way owed any man ill-will; he always made present payment. Lovats history is the best illustration of the blessings resulting from the annihilation of the he- reditary jurisdictions. The petty chiefs in their own straths, exercised a despotism, which though it had its origin in custom, was not less absolute than that of the sultan over a nation of Turks. In the middle of last century, these personages hanged their vassals according to their pleasure; and when we remember, that, over all the north, these nuclei of mischief existedthat every chief had a quarrel with his neighbor, in which his vassals were always involved, and that the sole education these miserable wretches received, was that of robbery or murder, as exemplified in the conduct of Lovat towards them, it may truly be said, that no single act did more to change the face of Scotland, than the destruction of the source from which these evils flowed. The law administered by a had govern- ment is often hard to bear; but the lion is not such an object of dismay, as the swarms of little loath- some animals that arise from his dead carcass, each crawling in a way of its own. The connexion between chief and vassal had begun to decline when Lovat was settled in his domains; and he set to work, with all his energy, to create a resurrection of the departed spirit. He discouraged schools, hunted out disaffection, and plied the people with every flattery that would rouse military ardor, or devotion to himself. He knew almost every man in the Highlands, of the slightest note. When he met one having pretensions to be a Duinheuassail, he bombastically praised the clan whose name he bore, and instanced its acts of bravery in former days. Prophecies and dreams, and the language of holy writ, he was ever ready with, as occasion served; aod, when with supernatural agency, he had worked his hearers up to the requisite enthusi- asm, he would leave them ~vith a dexterous insinu- ation as to the downfall of their greatness, unless they rallied round their chief. If he would meet 5 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. with one, whose circumstances were lower by a fifth or a tenth part, he would ask his name, and his fathers, of whom in his latter days he pretended ignorance; but generally said: I believe I knew your grandfather very well, and a worthy man he was; well did it set him to wear a belted plaid, and a broadsword; there are but few like him now-a- days; you resemble him very much, but not quite so brawny. A sentence or two would then be given, as to the old gentlemans intrepidity on the fields of Cromdale and Killicrankie, or he would trace him up to the days of Montrosefighting against the covenanters. The smaller gillies had also their genealogy traced backwards for genera- tions; and an undying devotion kindled in their hearts, by proof tendered by him of their relation- ship to himself. He could do with them what he pleased. lie led them in favor of the government, in the first rebellion, after recalling them from the service of Mar; he led them against the govern- ment in the 45, and at one blow struck down the fruit of all his policy. lie sometimes issued pious proclamations, in which, with some end to serve, he would ascend through the whole gamut of virtuous emotionfrom Christian forgiveness to seraphic love. To heighten the effect, he would tell them he was on his death- bed, as in the following instance, ~vherein he whips them up to the requisite enthusiasm Mv DEAR FRIENDs,Since, by all appearances, this is the last time [he had a great number of last times] of my life I shall have occasion to write to you, I being now very ill of a dangerous fever, I declare to you before God, before whom I must appear, and all of us at the great day of judgment, that I loved you all; I mean you and all the rest of my kindred and family, who are for the standing of their chief and name; and as I loved you, so I loved all my faithful commons in general, more than I did my own life, or health, or comfort, or satisfaction. I did design to make my poor com- mons live at their ease, and have them always well clothed, and well armed after the Highland manner, and not to suffer them to wear low country clothes, but make them live like their forefathers, with the use of their arms, that they might always be in a condition to defend themselves against their ene- mies, and to do service to their friends, especially to the great Duke of Argyle, and his worthy bro- ther the Earl of Islay. And you may depend upon it, and you and your posterity will see it and find it, that if you do not keep steadfast to your chief, I mean the heir-male of my family, but weakly and falsely, for little private interest and views, abandon your duty to your name, and suffer a pretended heiress and her Mackenzie children, to l)OSSC55 your country, and the true right of the heirs-male, they will certainly, in less than an age, chase you all by slight and might, as well gentlemen as commons, out of your native country, which will be possessed by the Mackenzies and the Macdonalds; and you will be like the miserable, unnatural Jews, scattered and vagabonds throughout the unhappy kingdom of Scotland; and the poor wives and children that remain of the name, without a head or protection, when they are told the traditions of their family, will be cursing from their hearts the persons and memory of those unnattiral, co~vardly, knavish men, who sold and abandoned their chief, their name, their birthright and their country. King, in his Monumenta Aniiqua, has given us the experiences of James Ferguson the astronomer, as to the nature of life at Castle Dounie, where lie, resided for some months. Lovats house, consid- ered according to modern ideas, was comfortless enough. He received his company and kept pub- lic table, after the manner of a petty court, in the room where he slept; and the only place his lady had was also her bed-room. The servants and re- tainers had nothing but straw, spread on the four lower apartments in the house. About four hun- dred persons would often thus he kennelled together; and Ferguson declares, that of these wretched de- pendents, he has seen three or four, and sometimes half a dozen, hung up by the heels, for hours, on the trees around the mansion, to expiate offences. The tables ran along the length of the room, and were carried out at the door to the lawn in front of the house. Near the chief were set the distin- guished guests or neighboring chief, entertained with claret and French cookery; next in progres- sion were the Duinheuassails of the clan, who had beef and mtmtton and a glass of port; the pretty handsome fellows came next, and were honored with sheeps-head and whiskey; and, lastly, the mass of the useless, old, amid maimed, waited on the lawn for such relics as their betters left. Under this system everything was eaten. But the best part of it all was the discriminating courtesy with which Lovat noticed his respective guests. My lord, here is excellent venisonhere turbot. Call for any vine you please; there is excellent claret and champagne on the side-board. To the next class it would be Pray now, Dunballoch, or~ Kinbockie, help yourselves to what is before you; there are port and Lisbon, ale and porter excellent. Then raising his voice for the rabble Pray, red- haired Donald, or by whatever other name the gillie would be known, Pray, help yourself and my other cousins to that fine beef and cabbage; there are whiskey-punch and beer for you. But life at Castle Dounie began to get dull. A pension fromn government and the estates secured, were not enough. his inroads upon his neighbors, too, were miot always attended with the desired suc- cess, and he bitterly complains of Glengarry, who would as soon part with his liver or his lungs as with one acre of his lands. Ease and plenty just gave him a lever for a renewed war with exist- imig things. All the loyalty and obedience called forth, like beautiful frost-work, in the season of his exile, dissolved minder the warm sumi of prosperity. Tulle periculum Jam vaga prosiliet frenis natura remotis. From the year 1719 down to the 45, he was con- tintially emigaged in fomenting rebellion; on the point of being often exposed, and obliged as fre- quently to take all kinds of oaths, and make all sorts of declarations in favor of governmemtt, always coming to his determinations according to the law of the strongest, which was his gospel, amid settlimig his cases of conscience according to his interest. In the year 1719, he wrote Lord Seaforth that lie would be ready to join the ill-concerted Jacobite scheme of Spammish invasion then concocted. his letter ~vas communicated at London; and lie posted south to meet his vile calumniators by denouncing them; applying the maxim to the defence of char- acterthat it is the best security of ones own coumi- try to carry the war into the enemys. his accustomed smiccess attended him; the news- papers of the day announcing that His majesty had done the Lord Lovat the honor to be godfather to his child. Ten years later, in 1729, he was on the point of being again found out, through the 6 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. barbarous villany, as he terms it, of one of his own clan; but being more secure this time in the matter of evidence, he could assume, with consid- erable firmness, the tone of injured innocence. I bless God ,this good man meekly said, I never was, in my life, guilty of a base or villanous action; so I do not fear this wicked calumny. In an elab- orate memorial, which he afterwards sent to Lord Islay, he argues the matter from the acknowledged facts, and next according to the theory of probabil- ities. It is really very shocking to find such a man, taking the most solemn subjects in his mouth, and protesting, as he believed in God and a future state, that he was innocent of the crimes he was at the very moment industriously hatching. Since the year 1719, I solemnly declare before God, and as I must answer to him at the great day of judg- ment, I did not write any one single letter beyond seas, or to any man in the Pretenders service or interest. At the time he wrote this, he was in correspondence with the Jacobite court for his patent of a dukedom. His wavering inclinations took shape in 1737, when he was at the head of all the disaffected par- ties in the north. On his trial, he said justly, that for many years I was the life and spirit of the kings (James) affairs in these countries. Inac- cessible as were his dominions, news of his proceed- ings reached the government, to whom it appeared necessary immediately to remove so dangerous a man from everything like legal power. One by one, therefore, his offices of lord-lieutenant and sheriff of Inverness, and his command of the independent company raised there, were taken from him. Of course innumerable letters, with outbursts of indig- nation descriptive of innocence wronged, trampled on, and abused, were written; all the figures of a copious rhetoric, employed during a whole life-time in deploring the success of slanderers and the un- happy fate of the virtuous, were laid under contri- bution. I bless God, he concludes, that what- ever I suffer, or may suffer, no power can take away the comfort I have, of a clear conscience and an upright heart, that never betrayed a private man nor a public cause. In 1740, he had an interview with Lord Islaj, when in the midst of the organiza- tion of the rebellion, and hourly expecting his patent. Accused of Jacobitism, I answered his lordship with a little warmth that these stories were cabin- xiies and lies. To prove this, he entered into a confederacy with the patriot party, who opposed the government, but equally hated the Jacobites. He immediately set to work to create votes in Inverness- shire, and found among his Jacobite friends some ridiculous scruples, on the ground of being obliged to take the oaths to government, to obtain the qual- ification. Write strongly, he said, to Glen- garry, to persuade him to take the oaths. I know he has no regard for them; so he should not stand to take a cart load of them, as I would do to serve myfriends. This is the character of Simon Lord Lovat, summed up hy himself, in brief terms. With the exception of a single Fraser a poor, covetous, narrow, greedy wretch, who had re- nounced his chief and kindred, and had discov- ered himself to be an unnatural traitor, an infamous deserter, and an ungrateful wretch to me, his chief, who had done him such signal service, he appears to have been successful. The fate of this ungrate- ful slave is hinted at. Duke Hamilton and sev- eral other lords asked me, in a joking way, whether that fellow that has deserted his chief and his clan, is still alive or not 3 I answered that he was, by my precise and e~rpress orders; and I said but what was true. Lovat thus speaks in the year 1740. Prince Charles landed; and then began the con- test between present competence with safety, and future greatness with the risk of the loss of all. His patent of a dukedom and his commission of lieutenant-general of the Highlands had been re- ceived; but there stood in front of him the grim spectres he had seen swinging on the scaffolds of the 15, and he had known from experience the long train of confiscation that was sure to follow. Even in the tourbillon of his passions, he could estimate the character of parties. In youth he never was an enthusiast; and in old age he was not likely to be led away. He saw, however, but little, presumed a great deal, and so jumped to his conclusion; hastening from the wish conceived to the end contemplated. After Lochiel had declared, and before he himself had taken active measures, he wrote that chieftain a characteristic letter, which much tickled Sir Walter Scott by its shrewd esti- mate of his countrymen My service to the prince; but I wish he had not come here so empty handedsiller would go far in the Highlands. At the same time he sent off a letter, in the manly style, to the lord-advocate, requesting a supply of arms for his clan; for no ill-usage would alter or diminish my zeal and attachment for his majestys person and government. He next commenced a correspondence with Duncan Forbes, then lord president, in the same strain. He was unable to tell the issue of the conflict, and so kept see-sawing backwards and forwards, making the most solemn protestations of fidelity to both parties, until the battle of Prestonpans, which appeared so decisive that the fiery cross was sent over the whole Fraser country, and 700 men were enrolled for the rebels. That battle, indeed, was magnified throughout the north into the complete annihilation of the govern- ment troops; and one can easily imagine the kind of frantic enthusiasm described in the following let- ter of Duncan Forbes, then engaged in suppressing the rebellion. 3d October, 1745. I have just received the twenty boIls of meal you sent me, for which I shall pay you on demand. The concern I am under, for the folly of some of my neighbors, is very great. The late unexpected successes their friends have met with, at Edinburgh and near it, has blown up their hopes to that degree, that they are apt to look upon the whole affair as over, and to rush upon a danger, which seems to them to be none at all, but to me appears to be almost cer- tain destruction. They will not believe the London Gazette, which name the Swiss and Dutch regi- ments that have actually come into the river Thames. They look upon what it says of the embarkation of lOB ritish battalions at Williamstadt as a fiction; nor will they believe one word of the preparations in the north of England to resist them. Full of their vain hopes, they are flocking together with intention to go southward and share in the expected glory and spoil. But I have still some faint hopes that they will recover their senses ere it is too late; and I shall leave nothing undone, that is in my power, to prevent their folly and stop the conta- gion.From MSS. Cautious to the last, Lovat would not appear openly, and thus trusted that in case of a reverse,. he would escape the meshes of the law. On the score of ill health he wrote the prince, that his son, a young lad of 19, would lead the clan, and at the 7 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. same time despatched a letter to the lord presi- dent, to the effect that there was nothing even out of hell more false, than that he had anything to do with it. On the contrary, the clan were mad, and his son was mad, and he, an old man, was un- able to keep them from rushing into the villanous, malicious, and ridiculous rebellion. The corre- spondence has all the effect of farce. We have, turn about, a letter to Murray of Broughton, the Jacobite secretary, and to Duncan Forbes as the organ of the government. The encouraging, bom- bastic, selfLglorifying styles come out strongly in the Jacobite letters; the pathetic, indignant, resigned, injored, meekly forgiving styles are the characteris- tics of those to the president. Had Swift seen his correspondence, he would never have written as he did: As universal a practice as lying is, and as easy a one as it seems, I do not remember to have heard three good lies in all my conversation, eveii from those who were most celebrated in that fac- ulty. Forbes entreated, expostulated, reasoned, until even his patience failed him. The Frasers marched all too late for any goodand then Forbes wrote the well known letter, first given in the Culloden Papers, which, for solemnity of warning and earnest reproof, is only exceeded by its thorough apprecia- tion of his correspondents character; and in which the whole devices of Lovat are as plainly exposed a.s if he had done it himself. I can no longer remain a spectator of your lord- sbips conduct, and see the double game you have played for some time past, without betraying the trust reposed in me, and at once risking my repu- tation and the fidelity I owe to his majesty as a good subject. Your lordships actions now discover evidently your inclinations, and leave us no further in the dark about what side you are to choose in the present unhappy insurrection. You have now so far pulled off the mask, that we can see the mark you aim at, though on former occasions you have had the skill and address to disguise your intentions in matters of far less importance; and, indeed, me- thinks, a little more of your lordships wonted arti- fice would not have been amiss. Whatever had been your private sentiments with respect to this unnatural rebellion, you should, my lord, have duly considered and estimated the advantages that would arise to your lordship from its success, and balance them with the risks you run if it should happen to miscarry; and, above all things, you ought to have consulted your own safety, and allowed that the chief place in your system of politics, which I per- suade myself would have induced your lordship to have played the game after quite a different mariner and with a much greater degree of caution and policy: But so far has your lordship been from acting with your ordinary finesse and circumspec- tion on this occasion, that you sent away your son, and the best part of your clan, to join the pretender, with as little concern as if no danger had attended such a step. I say, sent them away; for we are not to imagine that they went of themselves, or would have ventured to take arms without your lordships concurrence and approbation. This, how- ever, you are pretty sure cant be easily proved, which I believe, indeed, may be true; but I cannot think it will be a diflicult matter to make it appear that the whole strain of your lordships conversation in every company where you have appeared since the pretenders arrival, has tended to pervert the minds of his majestys subjects, and seduce them from their allegiance. This was the harbor of refuge into which Lovat thought he could in the day of danger take shelter. By writing strongly to the government officials in favor of the government, and conjuring his Jacobite friends to destroy all his letters, he had hoped that however the moral evidence might preponderate, there would not be legal evidence to procure a con- viction. How he must have been startled, then, to find from the president that enough was already known to seal his doom! Give me leave, continues the president, to tell you, my lord, even this falls under the con- struction of treason, and is no less liable to punish- ment than open rebellion, as I am afraid your lord- ship will find when once this rebellion is crushed, and the government at leisure to examine into the affair. And I am sorry to tell you, my lord, that I could sooner undertake to plead the cause of any one of those unhappy gentlemen who are just now actually in arms against his majesty, and I could say more in defence of their conduct than I could in defence of your lordships. What shall I say in favor of you, my lord Iyou, who have flourished under the present happy establishment Iyou, who in the beginning of your days forfeited both your life and fortune, and yet by the benignity of the government were not only indulged the liberty of living at home, but even restored to all you could lay claim to; so that both duty and gratitude ought to have influenced your lordships conduct at this critical juncture, and disposed you to have acted a part quite different from what you have done; but there are some men whom no duty can bind, nor no favor can oblige. This letter produced only an answer in the su- perlative style of injured innocence. I see by it (the latter) that for my misfortune in having an ob- stinate, stubborn son, and an ungrateful kindred, my family must go to destruction, and I must lose my life in my old age. Such usage looks rather like a rurkish or Persian government, than like a British. Am I, my lord, the first father that has had an un- dutiful and unnatural son The retreat from Derby told the downfall of his hopes. The ragged and miserable Highlanders, after their temporary triumph at Stirling, received their last defeat on the barren moor of Culloden. On that day, Lovat saw Charles for the first and last time; and, amid the panic of disaster, he alone retained the energy of manhood. Each of the un- happy fugitives looked only for a refuge from the pursuing royalists. All community of action or of counsel vanished. In vain Lovat (after the first agony of defeat had passed away) reminded the chevalier that Bruce had lost eleven battles, and es- tablished his countrys independence by the twelfth. In vain he proposed to raise a force of 3000 men, to defend the mountain passes, and compel at least an honorable capitulation. The spirit was dead within them; and unrestricted scope was given to the remorseless barbarity that pursued the wrecks of the rebel army. The fate of Lovat did not remain long undeter- mined. Upwards of 80 years of age, corpulent and weakened by disease, which rendered him unable to walk, he had not the least chance of escape. He wandered through the barren regions that skirt In- verness and Argyle, tended by his gillies; and was at last apprehended in a hollow tree swathed in flannel. He was conveyed in a litter by easy stages to London, growing most boisterous in his buffoon- ery, as he saw his destiny fixed; and when placed at the bar of the house of lords, to be worried, 8 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. as Horace Walpole called it, by the ablest lawyers of England, the old battered intriguer often put them off with a laugh, or a happy repartee, or by the exercise of a native humor that never failed him. Murray of Broughton, the kinds evidence, who propter vitam vivendi perdidit causas, he rebuked in the best moral style of his most eloquent letters; and some compassion was excited by this pitiable appeal against the then barbarous mode of trial for treason in the south My lords, I have not had the use of my limbs these three years; I cannot see, I cannot hear; and I beg, if your lordships have a mind I should have any chance of my life, that you will allow either my counsel or my solicitor to examine my witnesses, and to cross-examine those produced on behalf of the crown, and to take notes. He was unanimously found guilty, and left the bar, bidding their lordships an everlasting farewell. About a fortnight afterwards he was led out to execution. Without affectation of indiffer- ence, or levity unbecoming the solemnity of death, he went through the last scene with a Roman for- titude and with a Horatian sentiment in his mouth. And thus died the most powerful of the Highland chieftainsa man who, with the name of virtue continually on his lips, cared not a rush for all the virtue in the world, though he would have given much to have been able to secure a good character. WE have now to deal with a man the opposite of Lovat in all but intellectual capacity ; in read- ing whose history we become prouder of our coun- try, becouse it was his. A portrait of Duncan Forbes, ~vith all his fund of overflowing affection, sketched in the way Dickens has drawn fictitious characters, would be a delightful study. Much of him is now lostit being only from a few letters that we can obtain a faint insight into the character of one, who stood in the foremost rank, if his great abilities be regarded in combination with their use- ful application, and if his claim on the approbation of the world be united with that on its gratitude. Without the high talents that dazzle and astonish, he had the enduring and sterling virtues which have made immortal Romes proudest namesher sub- limest natures. His country he roused from inac- tion to industrysaved her by his energy and his courage, improved her by his labors, adorned her by his virtues, and ennobled her by his talents and his fame. One hundred and twenty pages are devoted to this mans life. The space was scarcely sufficient to give half the interesting relics of him that remain, and the finer impulses of so good a heart are lost forever, since all his writings refer to thc public matters in which, against his own happiness, he was so largely mingled. Like the brilliant spots on the highest mountains, when the sun has with- drawn his beams from the rest of the hills and val- leys, we may still perhaps discover, amid the ob- scure mass of papers on public affairs, a bit here and a bit there, illustrative of the delicacy and loftiness of principle, the gentleness of heart, of one who, though in~olved in the strife of insurrection and civil war, has been consigned to an envied im- mortality, in the praises of the men whom his cour- age subdued. Duncan Forbes was the second son of a country gentleman, the proprietor of the estate of Culloden in Inverness-shire. He was born in 1685of a family which had, by the economy of successive heirs, risen to considerable opulence. They were of high Presbyterian principles, and partook largely of the persecutions to which that national party had been exposed. After the revolution, the es- tates of Forbes father were ravaged by the troops of Cannon and Buchan, as a punishment for his adherence to the usurper. For this he received, as compensation, the right to make whiskey at a small duty, on his barony of Ferintosh, unhampered by the excise restrictions as to the nature of the still. Being thus allowed to use the small stills, which give a more highly flavored material, the name of Ferintosh became famous, and its proprietor was in the fair way to fortune. Forbes parents were everything that was amia- ble and excellent. Their children were children of many a prayer; and his mother especially, even when he had arrived at manhood, preserved the same tender watchfulness over his happiness. His only other near relation was a brother, with whom he lived in terms of the most endearing affection; and indeed it seems to have been impossible for any one to come within the sphere of Forbes in- fluence, without being hurried into liking him. At the age of 19 he was sent to Edinburgh to college, and thereafter he xvent to Leyden, as was the manner of the Scottish lawyers of his day. He only remained a year abroad, returning in 1707 to commence life by marrying Mary Rose, a daughter of Hugh Rose of Kilravok, who only survived a short period, leaving her husband an only son, by whom he was succeeded in his estates. He passed to the Scottish bar in 1708, and soon rose to high distinction as a judicious and eloquent pleader. In that day the patronage of lawyers was, in like manner as of literary men, not the patronage of the public, but of some great man; and Forbes was lucky in securing that of the great Argyle. From the correspondence preserved, this appears to have taken more of friendship than of the connexion of patron and vassal, though Forbes managed all the dukes estates, for which however he would never accept payment. He was actively engaged in the suppression of the rebellion of the 15, and materially assisted Lovat in the reduction of Inverness. In his mili- tary operations equally as in his more comprehen- sive civil designs, he displayed a judgment that we look for in vain amid the professed military com- manders of his day. He seldom undertook any de- sign which he did not accomplishand when the rage of strife had passed, he was the first to sym- pathize with the unhappy vanquished, and his purse was ever ready to relieve them. How noble a trait is this, in civil war, when men forget that they are brethren! The strife in such a case is not ended with a triumph and a treaty. The desola- tion which follows the victory, exceeds in intensity all the horrors of ordinary warfare, in which a pru- dent regard for the morrow restrains the hands of the victors of to-day. The ferocity of opposition being stimulated by the necessity for after security, the subjugation is not complete unless there is an extinction of the last gleam of hope; and while a foreign country recovers from its disasters, on the retreat of an invading army, the effects of civil war are felt in the long misery of yearsthe for- feitures of possessionsthe trials and the brutali- ties of executions. It was difficult for any mind, however well balanced, to preserve its tone of jus- tice, under the party fury of the civil wars of the last century; and it certainly is one of the rarest things, to find not only justice, but sympathy and 9 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. active assistance, given by the conqueror, to the man whose broadsword erewhile had been at his throat. Forbes was, at the time of the rebellion, a de- pute of the lord-advocate; and holding that office, it was his duty to appear as the accuser of his countrymen. This, however, was a duty so dis- tasteful to his feelings, that he refused. But he saw, that the mere abstinence, on his part, from discharging this duty, would only throw them into hands less merciful. To sustain them, therefore, in their sorrow, and afford them the chance of a fair trial, we have the following instance of his forget- fulness of official duty: Edinburtrlt, November 16th, 1716. DEAR BROTHERThe design of this is to ac- quaint you that a contribution is a carrying on, Lw/sick himself set agoing] for the relief of the poor prisoners at Carlisle, from their necessitous condi- tion. It is certainly Christian, and by no means disloyal, to sustain them in their indigent estate until they are found guilty. The law has brought them to England to be tried by foreign juries; so f~r it is well. But no law can hinder a Scotchman to wish that his countrymen, not hitherto con- demned, should not be a derision to strangers, or perish for want of necessary defence or sustenance, out of their own country. Therefore, if any con- tribution is carried on for the above purpose with you, it is fit you should give it all the countenance you can by exhortation and example. It is said that in after life he was, at the court of George II., reproached for this humanity. He replied as became the purity of his motive; and t.he reply was never remembered to his advan- ~Ie also published a fierce pamphlet, in which he, a young barrister, presumed to lecture the powerful Sir Robert Walpole, on the impolicy of a war of extermination in the Highlands. He sug- gested other remedies than the coarse implements of the hangman; condemning in unsparing terms the whole conduct of the governmenttheir cruel rigor to some, their favoritism to othersthe ine- quality of punishment when there was equality of crimethe abuses connected with the forfeiture of possessions, and the calamities that must result from the unceasing persecution of whole masses of the unhappy Highlanders, punished with ~vant and misery, for the offenees of their friends; suf- fered to wander about the country, sighing out their complaints to Heaven, and drawing at once the compassion, and moving the indignation, of every human creature. Forbes was of a cheerful disposition, which ren- dered him in his younger days the life of convivial meetings. He sometimes, however, after the manner of the day, drank himself into excesses which affected his health. Lovat refers to an ill- ness thus, in a letter to his brother: Clarkey (Dr. Clark) swears, if he keeps to his directions, that in two years he will be as strong and as well, and as fit for drinking as he was twenty years ago. His experience in this way was useful to him, for by treating the electors, he carried the election of the Inverness burghs, for which he was returned to parliament in 1722. It has been un- usual for a Scottish advocate practising in Edin- burgh, to enter parliament, unless called there by official duty; but Forbes was a man never at rest, unless engaged in some public schemes, which he could only enforce on the public arena of parliament- ary debate. He found no scope for his ambition in the limited routine of professional duty in a provincial town; and, though at the head of his profession, he went to parliament, at great pecuniary sacrifice. In London he became acquainted with men who have bound their names to the English language. He is stated in the Scots Magazine, in a contempo- rary sketch, to have been on intimate terms with Pope, Swift, Arbuthnot and Gay. He was certain- ly very intimate with Walpole, Lords Lyttleton and Hardwicke; and he addressed Lord Mansfield, as Dear Willbeing often a coadjutor with him in the appeals from Scotland to the house of lords, in which he was almost always one of the counsel. Of his appearances in the house of commons, we can find as little trace as of other contemporary orators. Reporters were not then in being, to marry the orators burning words to immortal print. He does not appear to have been a frequent speaker; but we rather think that Mr. Burton un- derrates the quality of his oratory, for in a contem- porary memoir the mode in which he was regard- ed in the house of commons is thus stated: The uprightness and integrity of his heart, with his pa- thetic and learned discourses, were soon taken notice of in the house of commons. What flows of eloquence proceeded from his tongue let the learned say. After he became lord-advocate, his attendance upon parliament was of the most unre- mitting description; for, in 1734, when his brother was dying, he wrote the whipper-in of govern- ment an excuse from Edinburgh in the following terms You can recollect, that since first I had the honor to serve the crown, I never was one day ab- sent from parliament. I attended the first and the last, and every intermediate day of every session, whatever calls I had from my private affairs to be here; while, at the same time, my friend the solici- tor-general was permitted to stay out the whole term in this place; the attendance of one of us upon the courts, in term time, being thought neces- sary for his majesty~s service.~~ In a letter which he wrote long afterwards, when occupying the office of president of the court of session, he refers incidentally to the difficulty he had in inducing English statesmen to attend to Scottish affairs. After informing his correspond- ent, Lord Mansfield, then solicitor-general, of ths bills he had drawn up, and which the lord-ad- vocate had carried with him to London, he thus proceeds Now, dear sir, what brings you this trouble is an apprehension that my lord-advocate may stand in need of assistance to rouse the attention of the men of business, who take the lead in parliament, to what may concern this remote country, unless the evil to be obviated is very mischievous to, and sensibly felt in England. What degrees of ac- quaintance or familiarity my lord advocate stands in with the leaders in parliament, I cannot tell; but as I, who in my day had the good fortune to stand pretty well with our government, found it extremely difficult to bring them with any great degree of attention or concern to think of Scotch matters, I greatly doubt he may find it at least as much so, at a season when their thoughts are em- ployed in subjects rather more interesting; and therefore my earnest request to you is, that you will undertake the management of it in full convic- tion that the fate of Scotland, at least for this gen- eration, depends on it. MSS. 10 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. The lord-advocate appears to have been over- awed by the great men of the south; and Forbes, whose disposition was as unbending as iron, when there was anything at stake affecting his countrys interests, immediately denounced this complying disposition on the ground that nothing can be more dangerous to this country than that turn in a man of your lordships character and abilities, when the laws or constitution of it is in question.~~ MSS. In the year 1725, Dundas of ArnistonForbes rival at the bar, and his successor as president of the courtresigned the office of lord-advocate, in consequence of one of those changes in the politics of Scotland, the object and nature of which are now unworthy of resuscitation. Forbes was ap- pointed his successor, and from the vantage ground of official position he commenced his operations on behalf of his poor country, as he affectionately called it. It is beyond our limits, to give even a catalogue of the measures relative to the commerce, agriculture, manufactures, and laws of Scotland, which this most energetic man prepared, and in a great measure carried through. One remarkable circumstance in his history at this period was the crusade which he made against the use of teaan article which may be said to have revolutionized the social habits of mankind. In room of this, he wished to substitute ale, which afforded a lucrative tax. His letters on the subject cover scores of pages; and he persecuted every man of any influ- ence, until he effected somewhat by means of im- portunity, what he might not have obtained as the consequences of argument. Cobbett himself could not more forcibly bewail the miseries consequent on the disuse of malt. After giving a gloomy descrip- tion of what might be expected, if the malt-tax should not be productive, he bitterly puts it down, that the cause of the mischief we complain of is, evidently, the excessive use of tea, which is now become so common, that the meanest families, even of laboring people, make their mornings meal of it, and thereby wholly disuse the ale, which hereto- fore was their accustomed drink; and the same drug supplies all the laboring women with their after- noons entertainment, to the exclusion of the two- penny. In letters to Lord Hardwicke he often enforced the same views: If England, he said, is not as yet so sensible of the mischief, as to be willing to submit to the necessary cure, I can answer for this coor country, that they will readily submit to any prohibition, however severe, that shall deliver them from the insufferable use of those drugs.MSS. To encourage them in this, he set to work to put down smuggling by the arm of the law and the powers of argument; and, what must have been agreeable to himself, he succeeded with the latter. The president, said his friend, IDr. Murdoch, in a letter to his son, dated in 1744, was very well a few weeks ago, and has been roaring so loud against smuggling, in a very honest, vchement pamphlet he printed, that most of the smuggling counties, gentry as well as commonality, have entered into combinations for its extirpation. MSS. The justice-clerk, (Lord Grange,) when lie was a young man, only showed him a grim sort of civility, because he was so plaguy stub- born, and this character he maintained throughout his whole life, in regard to any measure he ever undertook. The harmless tea found in him an un- relenting enemy, when almost every person had adopted it. A philosopher, said Pangloss, spitting out his last tooth with his expiring breath, should never change his opinions. He managed the affairs of Scotland,in such a way that the government, in the year 1725, abol- ished the office of secretary for Scotland; and al- though it was revived in 1731, and continued in existence till 1746, yet Forbes, till the day he died, was the real administrator of Scottish affairs, civil and military. The generals, the revenue officers, and the officers of justice, received his instructions and obeyed them. His mode of carrying his purposes into effect, came with the almost invincible recoin- mendation of being urged with temperby h.is always cautiously feeling his way, in case his meas- ure should rub against some favorite prejudice, or affect some personal interest. The spirit thus in- fused into his conduct formed a universal language, understood by all men, and was listened to with pleasure even by those whom it did not Convince. The most comprehensive statement we can make loses all its effect in the generalities to which our space confines us. In his memorials, instructions, and letters, upon all subjectsas they are contained in the Culloden Papers, in the Life by Mr. Burton, and in a mass of MSS. which has been communi- cated to us, and of which we have made consider- able usethere is a racy vigor, of which we find ourselves able to exhibit but a few specimens. A reference to these books will illustrate not merely the personal character of Forbes, but afford also considerable insight into the comparatively obscure civil history of Scotland at that day. It was an era in our history, when Scotland had obtained re- pose from the almost ceaseless revolutions and tumults of two hundred years. The union had swept away innumerable sources of dispute and national jealousy. The people, left to direct their energies to the pursuits of industry, fell into regular subordination, shook off the remains of barbarism, and grew wise from the past experience of their dissensions and their ignorance. If I1orbes did not see all the remote relations and indirect tendencies of the changeif he was often too desponding in the view he took of the future destinies of his poor country,he has the entire merit of having in- vigorated her by his example and his counsels; and sending her shooting ahead of the richer land which had taught her the lessonhe left a country affording equal exercise for memory and for hope. As a specimen of the spirit with which he watched over the Scottish manufactures, when he was president of the court of session, the following may be taken from a letter to Lord Tweeddale, the secretary for Scotland in 1743 I spent, by your lordships direction, some time this summer, harvest, and winter, with my lord-advocate on this subject. Be promised to me he would leave nothing undone. I well know that, without powerful intercession, he will not be listened to; and it is upon your lordship this poor country depends for that intercessinn. It is of some consequence for me to know whether anything is in this session to be effectually done; because, if it is, I, for my part, will cheerfully go on, and drudge, as heretofore; hut if nothing is likely to be done, I shall choose to be quiet, and not give myself un- necessary trouble. M$S. On the same day he wrote on the same subject to Sir Andrew Mitchell,. who was afterwards minister at Brussels I verily believe that you have left nothing un- done to forward a design so essential to the being 11 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. ture. A profound silence in the old court of ses- sion! The rebellion of 45 found Forbes engaged in the active duties of his own profession, in the con- coction of new schemes for the promotion of man- uf~actures, and in endeavoring to get adopted a poli- cy towards the Scottish Highlanders, which, if adopted, would have saved them from the calamities that afterwards overtook them. He proposed that regiments on behalf of government should be raised out of the disaffected clans, and commissions grant- ed to their chiefs. But the government refused to adopt the scheme, notwithstanding the obvious dis- affection in the north. Forbes, who knew the Highianders well, saw the insecure foundation on which public tranquillity was based, and he contin- ued his entreaties, in the hope that some happy accident might have fallen out, some lucid interval, some convenient crisis of circumstances, or juncture of inclination, before it should be too late. Aware of the strength of government, and of the folly of an insurrection, he took all means to prevent the evils which he well knew the government would avenge. News arrived that the prince had landed, and Forbes immediately hastened to the north. As soon as he arrived, the old man sat down to the labor of entreaty, of anxious prayer to the Jacobites whom he wished to save. No man was too low to be overlooked. He detailed in innumerable letters the powers of a government established, their own insufficient resources, the desperate chance of suc- cess, and, above all, the calamities of defeat. He implored them, as they loved their country, their ancient name, the value of peace and security, not to be hurried away by the enthusiasm of the hour. He prevailed. The influence of his character, the strength of his arguments, the terror which his threats inspired, had the success he wished. Ten thousand men never joined the Chevalier, that might otherwise have enabled him to carry a victorious army into London. This was not all. When, in spite of remonstrances, Lovat and Lochiel, and the rest of them, rushed upon their destiny, the presi- dent was as energetic in his military operations. In fact, what with incompetent commanders, and the incompetency of the ministry, he was left alone, unaided by either money or instructions. A few companies of soldiers were in the north, but totally unable in point of numbers to meet the enemy. Not a penny was sent him by the government, to defray the large expenditure consequent on insur- rection. Lord Tweeddale wrote him, however, that of whatever sums he advanced he would get repayment. In vain he protested against this offi- cial inanity. In vain he told them that unless they sent ammunition and money all his exertions would be useless. Such, he said, is the state of this country, from the confusion of the times, and the stop of communication, that all coin is locked up, and none can be commanded. I cannot command a shilling that is owing to me; and even bank-bills are of no currency. I do as well as I can in re- spect to small expenses, but sums of any value can- not be compassed. His great wish was to keep out of the rebellion a greater body of men than those who are hitherto engaged in it, by making an early demonstration of military force. But the only supplies he received did not arrive till after the retreat of the rebels from England; and as to the mode in which these were sent, he thus writes Lord Tweeddale The too late arrival of the sloop with arms and money, which I had long since solicitad, was the cause why the rebellion gathered fresh strength in this country, after the rebels flight from Stirling. Had those arms come in time to have been put into the hands of men who were ready prepared to re- ceive them, the rebels durst hardly have shown themselves on this side the mountains; but as those did not arrive in our road till the very day that the rebels made themselves master of the barrack in Ruthven of Badenoch, within twenty-six miles of us, it was too late to assemble the men we had pre- pared; and in place of making use of arms, we were obliged to keep them as well as the money on shipboard, for our security.MSS. As government thus withheld the supplies, he had been obliged to appropriate for the public ser- vice all his own funds, and then resort to borrowing. It is delightful to see, in all those harassing vexa- tious, the equanimity of his temper. He never let fall one word of asperity against the rebels, for whom he could find no harsher name than the poor gentlemen in arms. His voice never loses its melody, nor his entreaties their sweetness; and in looking forward to the day of reckoning, he put, in all his letters, a saving clausenot to make his advice novel when the day arrivedthat retribution should be done gently. The finer and sterner elements of our nature were indeed joined in de- lightful matrimony in this true-hearted old man, who is, moreover, another example of the truth, that coldness of temperament is not a necessary requisite to soundness of judgment. To the value of his services, all his contempora- ries bear witness; and even the Jacobites spoke with genuine affection of his catholic humanity. Being driven northwards by the rebels, he was not present at the battle of Culloden; and, fortunately for himself, he arrived when the greater part of the butcheries were ended. What he did see, how- ever, roused him to the spirit of his best days. He reminded the Duke of Cumberland, quem et presens et postera respuat rtas, that victory did not sanction cruelties unpractised in the wars of civilized Europe, and that a prisoner had still the protection of the law. Of the first the duke mentioned it to his offi- cers, as a saying of the old woman who talked to me about humanity, and as to the laws of the country, my lord, I 11 make a brigade give laws, by God. This was brutal; the rest was in order. As the government began with fatal errors, they finished by atrocious crimes. A feeble vacillation was suc- ceeded by a rigid application of the ultima ratio regurn. In one of his unprinted letters, Forbes mentions that he had been dismissed The duke judges it unnecessary I should follow him any fur- ther. Nay, he had to endure something utterly disgraceful to the character of the government which sanctioned it. They allowed him to be dunned and persecuted by creditors, for the money lie had borrowed to support the troops! About nine months ago, lie wrote the secretary of the treasury, My zeal led me into this country (the Highlands) to quench a very furious rebellion, without arms, without money, and without credit. I was forced to supply the necessary expense, after employing what money of my own I could come at in this country, by borrowing upon my proper notes such small sums as I could hear of. The rebellion is now happily over; and the persons who lent me this money at a pinch, are now justly demanding payment; and I, who cannot coin, and who never hitherto was dunned, find myself uneasy. 13 14 LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. The money, we believe, was never repaid him or his descendants; and the estate of Culloden is now of half the extent it was when Forbes acquired it. In regard to the measures introduced into Parlia- Tuent to prevent the recurrence of like commotions, it appears that he never was consulted; nay, that the men in power, as the best justification of them- selves, threw ridicule on him, traduced his charac- ter, and neglected his recommendations. He spoke of this in the same dignified strain, as of the other insults that clouded his latter days. In a letter to his friend, Sir Andrew Mitchell, which he never imagined the world would hear of, we obtain a bet- ter view of this part of his life than from almost anything we now possess. We give it entire, as it has not hitherto been printed EDIR. 15th July, 1746. Mrs. MLaurin sent me yours of the 5th. I ttm sensible of the concern you take in ~vhat affects me, and very thankful for it. It was no small mis- fortune to the public, as well as it was abundantly mortifying to me, that the want of harmony in the ministers prevented the furnishing the supplies called for, which, had they arrived in due time, would have put an end long ago to the calamities that attended an actual rebellion. I do not at all wonder that my conduct was ridiculed by those to whom the steadiness of it was some reproach. But I am a little surprised that they found anybody to lis~ten to them. These things, however, are now over, and I trouble my head with them no more. I did what my conscience told me was my duty. I acted, I believe, to the conviction of all the kings enemies, like a man; my conscience acquits me; and I dont care twopence what those, who are so silly as to be my enemies without provocation, may think or say. My knight-errantry is now at an endI hope forever. I have been sweating for these six weeks past at my regular drudgery, with- out meddling with any other business; but under very great concern, I must confess, for this unhap- py country, which is like to suffer for crimes it is not guilty of, and seems in its distress to have no eye to pity it, nor hand ready to interpose for its relief. Upon the rebellion receiving its finishing stroke from the duke, it was my opinion that our ministers would conclude the settling the peace of this un- happy country. And the forming a system for preventing proceedings so dangerous and destruc- tive for the future, required the most mature delib- eration. I must confess I had vanity enough to imagine that I should have been called upon for my sentiments on that subject, as my zeal ought to have been unsuspected, and as the consideration of it was delicate, and, to my thinking, of very great consequence. If I had not known more than most people of the complexion of the country, I could not have performed half the service that such of our leaders as are in tolerable good humor with me, affect to tell me they believe I did. But to my great convenience, tho not much to the satisfaction of my mind, the undertakers for quieting and for keeping quiet this part of the island have not given me the trouble of answering them any ques- tion; neither have they dropt the least signification that my attendance is wanted where those things are to be consulted about. This, dear Andrew, is my present situation; and as the duty of my office required my attendance in this place, (unless it had, under the royal sign-manual, been dispensed with,) you would not at all wonder at my being where I now am. What may happen when the term is over, and when my duty no longer requires my attendance in this place, I cannot exactly say. I know how little likely advice obtruded is to pre- vail; and yet I am not certain that the same sort of zeal, flowing from the same principles that led me northwards after the last summer session, may not lead southwards after this. I am sensible the opposition I may now meet with is more formidable, and less likely to be got the better of by my puny influence, than that of the Highlanders appeared to me to be last year. But if, upon summing up all considerations, when I have some more leisure than I possess at present, it shall appear to me to be my duty to move towards you, I certainly shall march. He did not long survive this. His death took place in December, 1747, at the comparatively early age of 57. A few weeks before he died, he wrote his son, advising him to go to London, where I believe I may have some friends yet. They will tell the king that his faithful servant Duncan Forbes has left you a very poor man. Farewell. His son hurried to his bedside, and preserved a memo- randum of his last hours. My father entered into the everlasting life of God, trusting, hoping, and believing through the blood of Christ, eternal life and happiness. When I first sa~v my father on the bed of death, his bless- ing and prayer to me was My dear John, you have just come in time to see your poor father die. May the great God of heaven and earth ever bless and preserve you! You have come to a very poor fortune, partly through my own extravagance, and the oppression of power. I am sure you will for- give me, because what I did was with a good intention. I know you to be an honest-hearted lad Andrew Mitchell loves you affectionatelymy heart bleeds for poor John SteelI recommend him to you. There is but one thing I repent me of in my whole lifenot to have taken better care of you. May the great God of heaven and earth bless and preserve you. I trust in the blood of Christ. Be always religious; fear and love God. You may go; you can be of no service to me here. And thus he died, according to the universal opinion, of a broken heart. A deep melancholy laid him prostrate; he was unable to endure the outrages which he had no influence to prevent. His was not one of those minds which sink in self- estimation, to the level to which the world has reduced them, and accommodate themselves with equanimity to their fortune. Too liberal for his own interest, and too sensitive for his own happi- ness, he became the victim of an exquisite sensibil- ity under the calumnies of malice and the judgments of ignorance ; and the struggle ended, as in kindred natures it has often done, in entire dereliction of himself and despondency at last. It is difficult to speak of such a man as Forbes, without ascending to extravagance and hyperbole. If he was not one of the flaming constellations which has shot to its station in the heavens, he was, at least, one of the few of the departed great, that will live in Scottish history. Of such, we have only four or five in all; and in ranking the patriot of the 18th, with the two great reformers of the 16th centuries, and with the heroes of the war of inde- pendence, we do no injustice to their glorious mem- ory. He has the same claim, in his patriotic labors, to our gratitude and applause. There was no apa- thy with him, dead to all feeling but what was personal; and while, like all men, he could bear anothers misfortunes very much like a Christian, he differed from most men in this, that he never LORD LOVAT AND DUNCAN FORBES. rested till he had relieved them; nor, under the mask of sentiment, did he allow interest or vanity to speak. Though loving retirement, he did not court it at the expense of duty; and as soon as he had taken and comprehended the dimensions of his countrys wants, he urged forward, with an energy that never slackened till the day he died, that coun- trys regeneration. Like the reformers of the 16th century, we find him always practicalnever lost among dreams, and broken thoughts, and wild imaginations; but, under the guidance of a shrewd, experienced sagac- ity, he unquestionably did more for the land of his birth, than all the Scotsmen, of every rank, in the whole century in which he lived. The eulogy of Thomson, who knew him well, has consecrated the name of one, who with talents to conduct, to persuade, and to command, never forgot his high mission as an apostle of humanity. Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends, As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind; Thee, truly generous and in silence great, Thy country feels through her reviving arts, Planned by thy wisdom, by thy soul informed, And seldom has she known a friend like thee. Or take the better delineation by the great master of character His life was gentle, and the elements So mixed in him, that nature might stand up And say to all the ~vorld, this was a man. In his most prosperous days, when he was the correspondent of the great statesmen and lawyers of the south, and swaying the whole influence of government in Scotland, he was ~ natural and true- hearted as when a young lad on his fathers hills. To the baser passions he was a strangerwithout servility as without avarice; and even the ambi- tion of fame he little cared for. It was not for that he labored. We question if he once thought of s3if, in the long life of self-sacrifice he lived. It would be unjust to say less than this; it would be difficult to inflict more praise than he deserved, or to express the extent of our obligation in language too eulogistic. Vigorous measures, promptitude of (lecision and of action, a determined will and clear perspicacity, he united to a nature gentle and lovable, considerate with regard to human frailty, and generous in its estimate of human motive. The finest hair casts a shadow, and he had his failings, like all men; but his generous aspirations, and his labors of a lifetime, will excuse errors arising from too profound sensibility, warmth of heart, and passionate enthusiasm for what promised prosperity to his country. Such is the man of whom it may be said, that antiquity can offer nothing more touching than his death, or modern times more honorable than his life. Nothing more illustrates the inborn loftiness of his character, than the magnanimity with which he was inspired, amid his own fallen fortunes and ruined hopes, at the long train of proscriptions, beneath which he despaired of any resurrection of his coun- trys prosperity and independence. It would have saved him at least one pang, had he lived a few years longer, to behold how, out of the arbitrary doings of a ruthless soldiery, liberty arosehow prosperity sprang from conquest, and a nation was saved even in being subdued. Yet, after all, how dim is the reputation of this lawyer-statesman even in the country which his virtu~s adorned. His fame yields to that of the poor poets whom he cherished. His friend Thom- son, and even Allan Ramsay, can boast a wider celebrity. It has thus ever been the case with those whose labors are spent upon contemporaries. How obscure, for example, is the fame of Pitt, or Fox, or Mansfield, or Thurlo~v, when compared with that of the contemporary writers who have left enduring memorials of their geniusGibbon, Hume, Gold- smith, or Burke. Any book, therefore, to preserve such men against the tooth of time and razure of oblivion, would be a service to mankind. Even as it was, the knowledge of Forbes history was becoming known to others than a few readers of the Scots Magazine, or a few black letter lawyers. The passing traveller now pays a visit to Culloden Moor for other purposes than to get melancholy on its reminiscences; and what the Roman orator has eloquently said, as to the localities of Athenian patriotism, is coming true of one, of whom even the rugged Warburton could thus speak I knew and venerated the man ; one of the greatest that ever Scotland bred, as a judge, a patriot, and a Chris- tian. With regard to the work which has suggested the preceding observations, we have no hesitation whatever in saying that it is, out of all sight, the best book on Jacobite history that has been written. We had recently occasion to review a few works on this subject, and stretched a point to speak as favorably as possible of a good intention and respec- table industry. Nothing was said of many blem- ishes, and among others, of the absolute maze of words and deluge of sentiment, which had only the one advantage of hiding somewhat the penury of thought and looseness of reasoning. Mr. Burtons book is exactly of the opposite character. Every sentence is supported by reference to authority, and every idea is conveyed in language brief, manly, and vigorous, which perhaps has sometimes the blemish of descending to a homeliness that is disagreeable. We are never, however, bored by the abominable manufactured Jacobitism and maudlin ululations, that every other writer thinks it necessary to print; and only they who have come from a recent perusal of their empty mouthings can appreciate the com- fort of being allowed to read the story, without wading through scores and scores of pages of sen- timent three times skimmed sky-blueevery one sentence being, in addition, rounded off with the loftiest superlatives, by a clinch or antithesis. Mr. Burton does not, moreover, adopt either of the two usual courses. He does not enter with a halter about his neck, submitting himself to his readers mercy, whether he shall be hanged or no; or, in a defying mood, appear with the halter in his hand, threatening to hang his reader, if he do not praise him. He gives, without any self-glorification, au- thorities which show an extent of research, among printed and unprinted materials, for which, in a small volume of this kind, we were not prepared, and which could not reasonably have been ex- pected; but the value of his labors can only be acknowledged by those who, by having studied this portion of our history, can estimate the skill with which he has compressed so much into so small a compass. There are, however, several awkward blunders, evidently mere slips of the pen in the hurry of composition, which will be corrected in a second edition; and when that edition appears, we hope also for a more careful correction of the press that duty being at present, about as badly done, as such a thing can be. 15 AGATHATHE CUCKOO. AGATHA. AGATHA, the daughter of William the Conqueror, was betrothed to Earl Edwin, the Saxon chief, who, with his brother Morcar, made so brave an attempt to preserve the liberties of his countrymen, and whose life was the sacrifice of his devoted gallantry. The remainder of Agathas history is told in the following ballad Nay, urge me not, dear father! Urge me not, I pray; The sunlight shed oer my youthful head, Like a dream hath passed away: Like a dream whose hues were lovely In the shady night; Whose robe of gold grew dim and cold When dawned the early light: Like a dew-drop in the morning, Ere the sun hath shone; Which, ere that sun its race bath run, Its flowery-bed hath flown: Like a bird that carols blithely, Ere the bow is bent, Then swiftly falls from the azure halls Of the shining firmament. So brightly dawned my morning, My dream so early past; And I awoke with a thunder stroke To find it could not last. For my lot seemed the fairest, The highest destiny, That ever might on maid alight, Whatever her degree. The present was all sunshine, A blessed summer day; The future spread like sunshine shed, In the distance far away On a mist that hid so softly, With a silvery veil, Both flower and tree, all things that be By forest, hill, or dale. Which, though it veiled their beauty, Still itself was bright; And round things beneath would ever wreathe A radiant robe of light. For my young troth was plighted To a warrior true; And my maiden heart, in its inmost part, Him as its own lord knew. For he was good and valiant; Alas, that he isdead! Ahme! ah me! oh woe is me. Alas, for he is dead! And oer his grave the wild winds rave And the cold, cold earth is spread. Oh, I did love him dearly! All worldly things above; And a soul so bright, and a heart so right, Who could not choose but love? Our souls were knit together, They were no longer twain; No single thought but the other caught, And responded to again. lie was my first love, father! My first and only one; And my heart is sere and my soul is drear My happiness is done. Then urge me not, dear father! Urge me not, I pray; The sunlight shed oer my youthful head Like a dream hath past away. And force me not, I pray thee, To wed the Spanish king; And in foreign land from unknown hand To take the bridal ring. Nay, daughter, stern he answered; Nay, it must be so; I have said the word, and thou hast heard, Thou must even ~ Then Agatha, all weeping, To the king replied That conqueror proud, who spake aloud To the maiden at his side Then God in heaven have mercy! And rather let me die. Let my spirit be free ere I cross the sea; Oh, let me rather die! That my soul may sail on a heavenly gale To my own lord in the sky ! These words said the maiden; rhese, and only these. They deck her with pride as a royal bride, And she must cross the seas. A ship with pennons flying Waiteth in the bay; They lead her there with a train so fair; Lady Agatha must away. The merry wind is singing Through the sails so white; Then bounding away like a child at play, That ship was a goodly sight. Thus on the waters bounding, In truth she was most fair But though in pride she swept the tide, A breaking heart was there. The vessel rode on gayly, Gayly on she sped; The sun shone high in the clear blue sky, And the calm sea round her spread. But the words of humble prayer Agatha had said, Were heard above by the God of love! Lady Agatha, she was dead! THE CucKooThe cuckoo thus addressed a starling who had flown from town. What say they in town of our melodies? What say they of the nightingale? The whole town praises her song. And of the lark? cried he again. Half the town praises her tuneful throat. And of the blackbird? continued he. Her, too, they praise now and then. 1 must ask yet one more question: what say they ofme? That, said the starling, I know not; for I have not heard a single person speak of thee. Then will I, proceeded he, revenge myself on the ingratitude of men, and will everlastingly speak of myself. Gellert. 16 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. From the North British Review. 1. The Naturalists Lilrar3,. Conducted by Sir William Jardine, Baronet, F. R. S. E., & c. Mammalia, Vols. IX. and X., containing the Dogs or Cani& e. By Lieut. Col. CIIAS. HAMILTON SMITH, F. R. S., & c. Edinburgh, 1840. 2. .Tlistoire du Chien chez bus les Peuples du Monde. Par ELZEAIt BLAZE. Paris. Svo. 1843. 3. The Dog. By WILLIAM YOUATT. (Published under the superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge.) Second edition. One vol. 8vo. London, 1845. IN a recent article on the history of domesticated animals (N. B. Review, No. VI.) we presented a cursory sketch of the origin and attributes of the more important of the species which are now sub- servient to man, reserving the consideration of the canine tribes to an after opportunity. We shall now resume the subject by a brief biography, or rather genealogy, of the most faithful and accom- modating of all the brute companions of the human race. Baron Cuvier has characterized our redoction of the dog from a state of nature as Ia conqu~te, Ia plus compl~te, la plus singuli~re et Ia plus utile que 1homme ait faite,* and Mr. Swainson has accused Baron Cuvier of scepticism and infidelity for so do- ing.f The English naturalist quotes the preceding sentence and the following: Les petits chiens dappartemens, Doguins, Epagsreuis, Bichons, & c., sont les produits las pIns d6g6n~r~s, et les marques les plus fortes de Ia puissance que Ihomme exerce sur Ia nature ; and then adds in a ante : We question whether the scepticism of Buffon, or the infidelity of Lamarck, could have prompted a more objectionable passage. What does this mean, he afterwards resumes, but that man has the power of conquering natural iestinctsor dispositions, and of making an animal, originally created savage or ferocious, domestic and familiar, at. his own good will and pleasure B XVe think it really may mean something of that kind, without authorizing such serious charges as those brotight forward. If our undoubted power over the anilrlal kingdom should possibly increase our satisfaction with ourselves, that is, with our own praiseworthy perseverance and ingenuity, we trust it will also still more in- crease our admiring gratitude to the Creator both of man and beast, for having endowed the inferior orders ~vith those accommodating instincts which the plastic power of the human race has providen- tially been enabled so to control, modify, or even transform, as to render them subservient to such various and important uses. When God made man in his own image he crave him dominion over every living thing that moth upon the earth, and the sway which he has since been enabled to estab- lish, at various times, over various creatures, is merely the exercise of that lordly delegation. Mr. Swainson seems to think that we arrogate too much to ourselves when we refer to such changes, as if they were our own achievement. Now, we main- tain that these changes actually are our own achieve- ment, although we admit that we cannot alter the essential nature of tImings, but can merely modify or divert certain instinctive impulses in such a way as *R~g.ne Animal, vol. 1., p. 149. I Classification of Animals, p. iai. CLXIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiv. 2 17 to make them beneficial to ourselves. Certaia wild animals are sagacious, swift of foot, keen-scented, persevering, and, as the event has shown, capable of strong and enduring attachment to mankind. The result of their own good qualities, when acted on by our kindness, is domestication. But is a wolf not by nature savage or ferocious B Has a dog not become domestic and familiar B And is tile difference between the two not of mans achievement1 Suppose Mr. Swainson was pursu- ing his avocations as a field naturalist, at his own good will and pleasure, and was overtaken by a pack of well-trained fox-hounds, he would fare none the worse for such encounter. But suppose that lie chanced to be out rather late some winter even- ing in the north country, that is to say Lapland, and that he ms overtaken by a troop of unreclaimed dogs, in other words wolves, we think he would fitmd himself in a much more painful predicament, and would feel but slightly consoled by his own philosophical reflection, that he was in the presence of creatures which had been endowed by the Creator ~vith that peculiar instinct of attaching themselves to man, defending his person, and guard- ing his property. Being well read in natural his- tory, he would more likely bring to remembrance, and not without considerable trepidation, time ac- counts published many years ago in time Monitcnr, how, during time last campaign of the French ammy in the territory of Vienna, miot only were the out- posts frequently molested, but the videttes actually carried off, iii consequence of these ferocious beasms attaching themselves to man somewhat too closely; amid how, on one occasion, when a poor sentinel was sought to be relieved from his appoiminted post. there was nothing to be found there save a demmd wolf, very gaunt and grim, and an exceedingly small portion of a pair of inexpressibles. We believe timat neither the great French mmatu. ralist, nor any other natuiralist. great or small, de- nies the providential implanting of a peculiar immstinct in all ammimais whiclm have been domesticatedan instinct capable, under the combined influence of fear and affection, of being strengthened in certain directions and weakened in others: but still the sub- jugation itself is tIme actual work of moan, atid is, in truth, a great achievement. A dog desires to lick your hand, and a wolf your blood; and there is such a decided difference in the nature of the two intentions, that it should be kept carefumlly in mind by all sensible men, women, and children. We know not whether we caim even concede to Mr. Swainson his assertion that there is only a limited, nummber of anituals to whom has been given an innate propensity to live by free choice near the. haunts of man, or to submit themselves cheerfully and willingly to his domestication. We believe. that innumerable tribes, excluded by Mr. Swain-. sons category, are just as capable of domestication as the others, were they worth time troumble; but there are many useless animals in the world, (view- ing them, that is, only in their economical relations to ourselves,) and these it would assuredly be a waste of labor to reclaim from their umatural state, which is that of well-founded fear for the lord of creation. Besides, it is not tIme most valuable of our domesticated animals, which, in the ~vild state, live by choice in the vicinity of human habitations, or submit themselves most cheerfully to mans dominion. Neither is it the miature, considered by itself aVone, of any creatuires attributes, which determines its being reduced to the domestic state. The social condition of man himself, and his own. NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. advancement in civilization and domestic life, must be likewise taken to account. Ask the North American Indian, as he wanders though leafless woods, or over sterile plains, or across the snowy surface of frost-bound lakes, or crackling rivers, whether the rein-deer, which he may he then track- ing in cold and hunger. is capable, like the dog, of domestication. His reply would be, that you might as soon seek to domesticate the grizzly bear or prong-horned antelope. Put. the same question to the nomadian of the north of Europe, the forlorn Laplander, and he will tell you (in still greater amazement at your ignorance) that for every do- mestic purpose there is no such animal on all the earth. It is, therefore, the wildness of man rather than the stubbornness of beast which so frequently interferes with the progress of domestication. For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind: but the tongue can no man tame. James iii. 7. And this last state- ment, from a source which none can gainsay, no doubt accounts for the fact that one naturalist should abuse another without sufficient reason.* Mr. Swainson states his surprise (in bc. cit.) that any one should countenance the assertion of those sceptical writers who term this wonderful instinct the uork of man. In this we conceive lies his misconception of the whole matter. He seems to think that the writers whom he criticises assert that man has formed the peculiar instincts of certain species; whereas these writers, whether right or wrong, merely maintain that the human race has taken advantage of such instincts, and by .control and cultivation has turned them to its own advantage. What is the natural portion of instinct in the procedure of the pointer dog? Surely this, that when it has scented the game it stands still for a time warily, and then advances with greater can- * We shall not take upon us to question Mr. Swainson s scholarship, or douht his clear comprehension of the pas- sages he reprehencls. But in his own discourse oii the Classification of Quadrupeds, p. ml, where he takes occasion to state the characters which distinguish animals and plants, see find the following passage : Vegetahles derive their nutriment from the sun, and from the circum- fluent atmosphere, in the torn, of water, which is a com- hination of oxygen and hydrogen; of air containing oxy- ben and azote; and of carhonic acid, composed of oxygen and carhon. Now, the meaning of this is hy no means clear, or rather it is very clear that it has no meaniimg at all. As a general reference is made to one of Cuviers works as the source of this extraordinary piece of physi- ology, we glanced over the Introduction to the Re~ne Animal, aud soon found as follows : Le sot et mosphire prdsentent aux vdgdmaux pour leur nutrition de leau, qui se comnpoie doxrg~ne et dhydrog~ne, de lair qui contient de loxvg~ne & de lazote; et de lacide car- bonique qni est one conihinaison doxyg~ne et de car- hone. p. 0. Now, we are ready to maintain, that al- though sot, dmring line weather, is very fair Latin for sun, it is certainly not French for anything half so lustrous, hut, in the latter language, means simuply soit, or mother earth, and not time god of day. The passage, of course, signifies that earth and atmosphere furnish food for veg- etation hv meamis of water, which is composed of oxygen and hydiogemmof air, which contains oxygen and azote and of rarban~c acid, which is a comhination of oxygen and carhon. We ohserve, that in a concluding note, (p. 16,) Mr. Sivainson states, As it might he thought oh- jectionatnle, in a popular work of this nature, to quote foreign authors in their own langmmage, we have, upon this and other occasions, cited Mr. Griffiths translation of the R#~gne Animal, rather than the original. Mr. S. might, surely, with mio loss of popularity, have given us a correct translation of his own, without quoting either a foreign language or an unintelligible version h y another person; and this would have been a p roper and praise- worthy way of using books without abusing them. tion, that it may eventually spring upon and secure it for itself. What is the acquired or artificial por- tion l That steady, sedate, and self-denying or- dinance, which directs it to indicate the existence and position of the game, or, if encouraged, cau- tiously to lead towards it, that it may be slaughtered by and for its master. The former delay is a mere piece of instinctive prudence, that the quadruped may spring at last upon its prey with more unerring aimthe latter is a conventional indication to the biped who carries the gun, that it is now his busi- ness to conclude the work. This conversion, under mans guidance, of a momentary pause to a full stop, has been typographically compared to the changing of a semicolon to a point. We believe it was Buffon who first broached the notion that the shepherds dog is that which am proaches nearest to the primitive race, since in all countries inhabited by savages, or men half-civilized, the dogs resemble this breed more than any other. If we also consider, he observes, that this dog, notwithstanding his ugliness, and his wild and melancholy look, is still superior in instinct to all. othersthat he has a decided character, in which education has no sharethat he is the only kind born as it were already trainedthat, guided by natural powers alone, he applies himself to the care of our flocks, which he executes with singular fidel- itythat he conducts them with an admirable intel- li~rerice which has not been communicated to him that his talents astonish at the same time that they give repose to his master, while it requires much time and trouble to instruct other dogs for the pur- poses to which they are destined; if we reflect on these facts, we shall be confirmed in the opinion, that the shepherds dog is the true dog of nature the dog that has been bestowed upon us on account of his greatest utility; that he bears the greatest relationship to the general order of animated beings, which have mutual need of each others assistance; that lie is, in short, the one we ought to look upon as the stock and model of the whole species.* We admire shepherds, and shepherds dogs, and sheep, and take great delight in the pastoral mel- ancholy of lonesome, treeless valleys, whether green or gray, (alternate *tony streams, the beds of winter torrents, and verdurotis sloping sweeps of brighter pasture,) resounding with the varied bleat- ing of the woolly people; hut as we know that there are many countries without either sheep or shepherds, yet abotmnding in dogs of so wild and uncultivated a nature, that they would far rather worry mutton on their own account, than watch it on account of others, we cannot admit the foregoing explanation to be trtic. The fact is, that so long as we seek with Buffon for t.he origin of all domes- tic dogs in a single source, we shall seek in vain. Their widely diversified nature and attributes can- not be explained or accounted for by the influence of climate, and the modifying effects of domestica- tionhowever various and important these may be acting on the descendants of only one original species. Pallas, a German naturalist, long settled in Rus- sia, was among the first to give currency to the opinion, that the dog, viewed in its generality, ought to be regarded in a great measure as an adventitious animal, that is to say, as a creature produced by the diversified, and, in sonie cases, fortuitous alli- ance of several natural species. This idea is now a prevailing one, and we certainly give to it our * Histoire des Quadrup~des, t. i., p. 204. 18 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. own assent. An excellent English naturalist, Mr. Bell, (in his recent History of British Quadro- pods,) adheres to the older notion, that the wolf is the original stock from which all our domesticated dogs have been derived. There are many wolves in this world, and several very savage ones in Amer- ica, and on an enlarged view of the suhject it might he difficult to choose impartially among them, although the dogs of the western regions may be thought entitled to claim descent from their own wolves, to the same extent as ours may from those of Europe. Now, as the wild species of the Old and New World are deemed distinct by the major- ity of naturalists, and as each of those great divi- sions of the globe gives us more than a single wolf, we start in this way with a somewhat complex paternity from the beginning. There are many wild dogs, strictly so called, of very different character and conduct, in various countries, but none of them, even after centuries of freedom, (supposing that they are only emancipated varieties,) have reverted to the wolfish state. The true pariah dog of India is well known, as a wild species, to be an inhabitant of woody districts, re- mote from man, among the lower ranges of the Himalaya mountains, where the wolf is likewise known, but with which it does not intermingle in the natural state. If the dhole of India, the buansa of Nepaul, the dingho of New Holland, and the aguaras or wild dogs of South America, were neither more nor less than wolves, what prevents their assuming the aspect of their progenitors, see- ing that they pass their lives in a state of entire freedom from all control, and unsubjected to the modifying influences of artificial life? Although many wild dogs, commonly so called, may have sprung from the alienated descendants of domesti- (ated kinds, there is no doubt of the existence of species, wild ab origine, and more nearly allied to several of our subjugated kinds, than is the wolf itself. At the same time, the latter is in one sense a wild dog, and is certainly entitled in that charac- t~r to he regarded as the stock of more than one domestic breed, at least of the northern parts of Europe and America. But ~vhen, after a careful and extended survey of canine species and varieties, we find not only a diversity both of wild and tame species, but a diversity in which the nature and attn- hutes of the domesticated breeds of certain coun- tries in a great measure correspond with the nature and attributes of the unreclaimed animals of those same c6untries, we are led to consider whether such facts cannot be accounted for rather by a connection in blood, than a mere coincidence. If, for example, Pallas and Guldenstaedt have shown that the dogs of the Kalmucks scarcely differ in anything from t~e jackal, why should we go to the wolf, although it should exist within the natural range of these Northern Asiatics? Still more, if Professor Kret- schmer (in R~ippel~s Atlas) in describing the Frank- fort Museum, shows that another jackal (C~anis antlmes) is the type of one of the dogs of ancient Egypt, amid proves not alone from the correspoim- dence of antique figures, both in painting and sculp- ture, but by the comparison of a skull from the cat- acombs of Lycopolis, that these creatures so resem- ble each other as to be almost identicalwhy should we refer so exclusively to the muscular wolf as the progenitor of such comparatively feeble forms Or is it likely, from what we know of other animals, and the limits of variation which nature has assigned even to the most variable species, that the whole of our infinitely diversified tribes of dogs, from the noble and gigantic stag-hound, tQ the useful terrier, and degraded pug-dog, have all sprung originally from one and the same blood-thirsty savage? We can scarcely conceive the possibility, and in ito way see the necessity of such a parentage. That the wolf and dog breed freely together had, however, been long ascertained from experiments made in a state of confinement, (we can scarcely call it domestication,) and that they freely seek each others society, as belonging to the same kind, has been still more explicitly proved in later years, when at least one of the animals was in a condition of total wildness. During Sir Edward Parrys first voyage (see Supplement to the Appendix) frequent instances were observed of more than one dog be- longing to the officers being enticed away by she wolves. In December and January, which are the months in which wolves are in season, a female paid almost daily visits to the neighborhood of the ships, and remained till she was joined by a setter dog belonging to one of the officers. They were usually together for two or three hours; and as they did not go far away unless an endeavor was made to approach them, repeated and decided evi- dence was obtained of the purpose for which they were thus associated. As they became inure famil- iar, the absences of the dog were of longer continu- ance, until, at length, he did not return, having probably fallen a sacrifice in an encounter with a niale wolf. The female, however, continued to visit the ships as before, and enticed a second dog in the same manner, which, after several meetings, returned so severely bitten as to be disabled for many days.~ The Esquimaux dogs bear a strong resemblance to the northern wolves, and we do not see how they could have sprung from any other source. With- out entering,~ says Sir John Richardson, at all into the question of the origiit of the domestic dog, I may state that the resemblance between the wolves amid dogs (if those Indian nations wlto still preserve their ancient mode of life, continues to be very remarkable, and it is nowhere mitre so than at the very northern extremity of the continent, the Esquimnaux dogs being not only extremely like the gray wolves of the arctic circle, in form and color, but also nearly equalling them in size.~* So great indeed was the reseniblance between these Nottht American wolves amid the sledge-dogs of the natives, that our arctic voyagers frequently mistook a band of the former for thte domestic troop of an lodian party. The cry of each is precisely the same. Ils hurlent plustost quils nahayent, says Sa- hard Theodat, in the old French account (if Canada, (1636,) arid we umay here observe, that tIme barking of dogs seems a refinement in titeir language, ac- quired in coimseqmience of domestication. The dogs of all savages and solitary tribes are remarkable for their taciturnity, although they speedily begin to bark when carried into more thickly peopled coun- tries. The black wolf-dog of the Florida Indians is described by Mr. Bartram as differing in nothing from the wild wolves of the country, except that he possessed the power of barking. A black wolf-dog, sent froni Canada to thie late Earl of Dmmrham, seemed to combine the characters of the wolf and the original Newfoundland dog. The Hare Indian dog is a small domestic kind, used chiefly by the Hare luchiarts, and other tribes who frequent the borders of the Great Bear lake, and the banks of the Mackenzie river. Sir John Pauua BerraU-Arnericana, p. 75. 19 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. Richardson states its resemblance to a wild species called the prairie wolf (Canis latrans of Say) to he so great, that on com~)aring live sj)ccimens to- gether he could detect [10 difference in fcrm (the cranium is somewhat less in the domesticated kind) nor in the texture of the fur, nor the arraugement of the patches of color. It seems to hear the same relation to the prairie wolf that the Esquimaux dog does to the more gigantic gray species. It is very playful and affectionate, easily attached by kindness, hut has an insuperable dislike to confine- ment. A young puppy, says the traveller last named, which I purchased from the Hare Indians, became greatly attached to me, and whdn about seven months old, ran on the snow by the side of my sledge for nine hundred miles, without suffering from fatigue. During this march it frequently of its own accord carried a small twig, or one of my mittens for a mile or two; but although very gentle in its manners, it showed little aptitude in learning any of the arts which the Newfi)undland dogs so speedily acquire, of fetching and carrying when ordered. This dog was killed and eaten by an Indian on the Sackatchewan, who pretended that he mistook it for a fox.~~* The still more important fact (as hearing on at least one branch of the genealogy of the canine race) mentioned by Captain Back, may be kept in mind, that the offspring of the wolf and dog are themselves prolific, and are prized by the voyagers as beasts of draught, being stronger than the ordi- nary dogs.~ I have seen, .says Pallas, at Mosco~v, about twenty spurious animals from dogs and black wolves. They are for the most part like wolves, except that some carry their tails higher, and have a kind of coarse barking. They multiply among themselves, and some of the whelps are grayish rusty, or even of the whitish hue of the arctic wolves.t The variation of color of the wolf in the wild state, is worthy of remark. The most frequent among the Pyrenees is entirely black. It is called lobo in Spain, and is so like a huge fero- cious dog, that many regard it as a hybrid or mixed breed. Lewis and Clark inform us that the wolves of the Missouri are of every shade, from a gray or blackish brown to a cream-colored white. In Canada, and further north, they are often seen entirely white. In the fur countries, they are sometimes noticed with black patches, that is, pied, but associated with those of the ordinary gray color; and Sir John Richardson, on one occasion, observed five young wolves, apparently belonging to the same litter, (they were leaping and tumbling over each other as if in play,) of which one was pied, another entirely blackthe rest gray. Now, this natural range of color is a circumstance of considerable im- portance in respect to our present inquiry, in as far as the tendency to become white at one extremity of the series, and black at the other, combined with the central or representative hue, which is brown, may be said to supply the three great elementary colors of all the races of domestic dotts. We have not the slightest doubt that the wolf is the progeni- tor of many of our northern kinds. But in regard to many of die southern sorts, the case is different. We believe it to be the opinion of the best instructed naturalists, that the wolf (Canis lupus) does not occur at all to the south of the equator. There are wild dogs of a wolfish *Loc cit. p. So. t Backs Nu-rative, Appendix. p. 492. ~ Letter to Pennant, in Arctic Zeology, vol. i., p. 42. character in India, beyond the Crishna, and there are corresponding or representative kinds in South America, and even in New Holland, but the wolf itself is wanting beyond the line, and, in truth, is not required. It is well known that both wild and tame dogs are indigenous to South America, although wolves, properly so called, do not occur there. The native languages designate the former kinds by names xvhich are not found in European tongues. To this day the word auri, mentioned by Herera more than 300 years ago, occurs in the Maypure language. The largest, wild animal of the canine race in South America, is the maned aguara Canis jubatus. It is not found to the north of the equa- tor, but occurs chiefly in the swampy and more open regions of Paraguay, and the bushy plains of Campus Geraes. Its habits are solitary. It swims with great facility, and hunts by scent, feed- ing on small game, aquatic animals, & c. The aguara guazu, for such is its native name, is not a dangerous animal, being much less daring than the wolves of the north; it is harmless to cattle, and the opinion commonly held in Para- guay, that beef cannot be digested by its stomach, was in some measure verified by Dr. Parlet, who found by experiments made upon a captive animal, that it rejected the raw flesh after deglutition, and only retained it when boiled. Kind treatment to this individual did not produce confidence or famili- arity even with dogs. Its sight was not strong in the glare of day; it retired to rest at ten in the morning, and again about midnight. In the dark the eyes sometimes shone like those of a true wolf. When let loose the animal refused to acknowledge command, and would avoid being taken till driven into a corner, where it lay couched until grasped by the hand, without offering further resistance. The aguara guazu, though not hunted, is exceedingly distrustful, and having an excellent scent and acute hearing, is always ertabled to keep at a distance from man; and though often seen, is but seldom within reach of the gun. The female litters in the month of August, having three or four whelps. Its voice consists in a loud arid repeated drawling cry, sounding like a-gou4t-~-ii, which is heard to a considerable distance.* We may here state the well-established fact, that canine animals do not bark at all in the natural state. They only howl. Barking is a habit, we shall not say whether good or badit probably has both advantages and drawbacksacquired under artificial circumstances, and by no means natural. Even domestic dogs run wild, speedily cease to bark, and take rather to a sharp prolonged howling, while, vice versa, the silent species of barbarous or semi-civilized nations, ere long acquire the bark of our domesticated kinds, and like niany other crea- tures of a higher class, become so conceited of their new attainment, as not seldom to give tongue most vociferously when they ought to bold their peace. The unreclaimed animal above referred to, has been called the aguara wolf, although its head is somewhat smaller than the head of that animal, and its legs are proportionally longer. It is nearly four feet and a half in length, and stands about twenty-six inches high. But there are other wild species in South America, called aguara dogs, from their still greater resemblance to the old do- mesticated kinds of that continent. The latter were no doubt originally derived from the former, * Colonel Hamilton Smith in Naturalists Library, Mammolia, vol. ix., p. 243. 20 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. although for a long period the native Indians have encouraged the increase of the European breed, which they name perro from the Spanish term. These nations universally admit the descent of their own breed from the wild species of the woods. But within the last thirty or forty years, the indig- enous domesticated dogs have been almost entire- ly superseded by the European kinds, which, as hunting dogs, are capable of en during much more fatigue. It would appear that in the southern parts of South America, there are not now any dogs in a truly wild state, and that such as live with the na- tives are rather scarce than numerous. Captain Fitzroy describes the dog of Patagonia as being equal in size to a large fox-hound, and bearing a general resemblance to the lurcher and shepherds dog, but with an unprepossessing and very wolfish aspect. They hunt by sight, do not give tongue, but growl and bark when in the act of attacking or being attacked. Those of Terra del Fuego are much smaller, resembling terriers, or a mixture of the fox, shepherds dog, and terrier. They guard the dwellings of the natives, and bark furiously on the approach of strangers. They are also em- ployed in hunting otters, and in catching wounded or sleeping birds. As they are scarcely ever fed, they supply themselves at low water by dexterous- ly detaching limpets from the rocks, or crunching mussels. Dering periods of famine, so valuable are dogs in some of the far parts of South Ameri- ca, that, according to Captain Fitzroy, it is well ascertained that the oldest women of the tribe are sacrificed to the cannibal appetites of their country- men, rather than destroy a single dog. Dogs, say they, catch otters; old women are good for nothing. We have known many excellent, and by no means useless, old women. The absence of wild dogs from the most southern countries of South America, is rendered more re- markable by the well-known fact, that a truly wild species, nearly allied to the agnara dog, though distinct from it, occurs in the Falkland Islands. It is the only native quadruped of that group,* (if we except possibly a field mouse,) and is known to naturalists under the name of Canis antarcticus. Mr. Darwin believes it to be quite peculiar to that archipelago, although not confined to the western island, a.s some have supposed. All the seal-hunt- ers, Guachos, and Indians, who have visited these islands, maintain that no such creature is found in any part of South America. Molina, indeed, sup- posed that it was identical with the culpeu of the main- land; but that is assuredly a different species, the f7auis Magellanicus, brought to this country some years ago by Captain King, from the straits from whence it takes its name, and conimon in Chili. These Falkland wolves, or wild dogs, were de~ scribed by Commodore Byron, who noted their tameness and prying dispositionattributes which the sailors, mistaking for fierceness, avoided by taking sudden refuge in the water. To this day their manners remain the same. They have been observed, says Mr. Darwin, to enter a tent, and actually pull some meat from beneath the head of a sleeping seaman. The Guachos, also, have frequently in the evening killed them, by holding out a piece of meat in one * The horses, horned cattle, hogs, and rabbits, though now numerous, have all been originally imported from other countries. 21 hand, and in the other a knife ready to stick them. As far as I am aware, there is no other instance in any part of the world, of so small a mass of broken land, distant fron~ a continent, possessing so large an aboriginal quadruped peculiar to itself. Their numbers have rapidly decreased; they are already banished from that half of the island which lies to the eastward of the neck of land between St. Sal- vador Bay and Berkley Sound. Within a very few years after these islands shall have become regularly settled, in all probability this creature will be classed with the Dodo, as an animal which has perished from the face of the earth.* Of the eastern or southern dogs of the Old World, several varieties are assuredly derived from jackals, or from certain animals commonly classed with these, such as the Thoan group, which in- cludes the deeb, or wild dog of Egypt, (Cams an- thus,) the thous of Nubia, the zeelee of the Hot- tentots, the tulki of the Persians, and the great jackal, or wild dog of Natoliathoes acmon. All these more or less resemble wolves on a small scale, being intermediate in size between them and the true jackals. They do not burrow like the latter, are not gregarious, consequently do not howl in concert as the jackals do, and have little or no offensive odor. Many eastern domesticated dogs bear a close resemblance to one or other of these species. Professor Kretschmer is of opinion that the Egyptians obtained their domestic breed from the deeb; and Colonel Hamilton Smith suspects that the greyhound of the desert was originally de- rived from a species very nearly allied, if not actu- ally belonging, to the same section. If, says the last named author, domestic dogs were merely wolves modified by the influence of mans wants, surely the curs of Mohammedan states, refused domestic care, left to roam after their own free will, and only tolerated in Asiatic cities in the capacity of scavengers, would long since have resumed some of the characters of the wolf; there has unquestionably been sufficient time for that purpose, since we find allusion made to these animals in the laws of Moses; they were then already considered unclean, for all cattle wor- ried, injured, or not killed as the law prescribed, were ordered to be flung to them.t It is well known that the streets and suburbs of eastern towns are still greatly infested by these animals, to which reference was no doubt made by King David, when he prays to be delivered from his enemies. They return at evening; they make a noise like a dog, and go round about the city. Ps. liv. 6. Their savage nature is fur- ther illustrated by the fate of Jezebel and a race of wild dogs is reported to have partictilarly infest- ed the banks of the Kishon, and the district of Jez- reelt Even in recent times, a very dangerous canine animal is said to follow the caravans from Bassora to Aleppo. It is called sheeb by the Arabs, and all who are bitten by it arc believed to die of the wound. Dr. Russell endeavors to explain this fatal result by supposing the creature to be in a state of madness, that is, laboring under hydropho- bia; but he forgets that these wild animals are gre- garious, several travelling together, which mad dogs never do. It has indeed been questioned whether hydrophobia exists at all in Western Asia. Cob * Journal of Researches, p. 194. 1 Naturalists Library, Mammalia, vol. ix., p. 97. ~ Encyc. of Biblical Literature, I., 570. NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. nel Hamilton Smith states it to be unknown there among the cur dogs of the cities.* It is, however, by no means unlikely that the larger, fiercer, and more powerful dogs of the east may have had some cross of the true wolf, because, although the latter animal is not now found in Judea, it is xvell known in Asia Minor, and the gorges of Cilicia. The Syrian wolf, at least of modern times, is a jackal. The geographical dis- tribution of animals, we need scarcely here notice, has been greatly changed in consequence of the al- terations on the condition of the earths surface, produced by man himself. Hence, not only the wolf, but the beaver and the bear have ceased to be numbered among the inhabitants of Britain, and the zeeb of hebrew and Arabian writers, the ravening wolf of our translations of the Sacred Scriptures, does not now occur in the countries of Palestine. The genuine jackals are somewhat less in size than those above referred to, and differ likewise in their distribution, being not only found like the others in Africa and Western Asia, but also in the east of Europe and Southern India. They form burrows in the earth, assemble together in numer- ous troops, and have an offensive odor. They howl almost incessantly, and their melancholy cry, which commences at sunset, and seldom ceases till the morning, is a well-known nuisance in eastern lands. They follow the footsteps of the greater feline animals, such as the lion and tiger, for the sake, as some suppose, of securing the remnants of their prey; but assuredly, so far from providing for the king of beasts, it is believed that they often do all in their power to circumvent and disappoint him. In regard at least to the tiger, it is well known in India, that while on ordinary occasions the nocturnal cry of a jackal is responded to by all his companions around, till the leafy woods become as the howling wilderness, there is a peculiar note of warning uttered by one of these creatures on the approach of the feline monster, which sinks the voices of all the others into the profoundest silence. These lesser jackals (there are several species) also enter into cities after dark for the purpose of preying upon offal, or whatever else they can ob- tain. They devour carrion, whether exposed or subterranean; that is to say, they will exercise their activity in digging into sepulebres, if these have not been properly protected. But during the fruit season they skulk about the vineyards, and grow fat on grapes. Although the offensive smell of the genuine jackals renders them unpleasant in- mates in a family, they are by no means difficult to tame. We knew one which ;vent about the house like a lank, 1mg-legged terrier, and showed his dif- ference of disposition chiefly in an uncurable habit of gnawing the legs and arms of handsome mahogany chairs, to the great destruction of French varnish, and every other kind of polish. There is no doubt that these animals are also entitled to an important * Naturalists Library, Mcsmmelia, vol. ix., p. 175. Although other species, when bitten, may he infected by this rabies, it seems to originate solely iii aiiimals of the dog kind, or those nearly allied. In India, hywnas, wolves, jackals and foxes are subject to it, as ~ell as domesticated dogs. When it attacks wild animals, it seems to deprive them of all fear of oman The European wolf, in a state of madness, instead of avoiding, rather seeks out the human race as his victims; and in France even foxes, under that strange and mysterious influence, have run into and been killed in the midst of crowds as- sembled in a market-place. place in the genealogical tree of our domestic dogs. They associate readily with dogs, and hybrid offspring is not uncommon; nor is there a doubt that these mules are again prolific. The domestic cur-dogs of all the nations where the jackal is found, bear evidence of at least a greater intermix- ture of their blood in the native races. The fact is strikingly exemplified in the greater number of the cur pariahs of India, and the home breeds of Turkish Asia, as well as of the negroes and the in- habitants of the great islands of the Indian Seas. M. Jeannon Naviez, mayor of Coire, is or was lately in possession of a hybrid dog, produced by a cross of the smaller wolf dog (Pomeraniari) and jackal. It was of small size, but so quarrelsome and fierce that all other dogs were afraid to asso- ciate with it. Voracious in the extremedtick- hugs, chickens, all that came within reach, it de- voured; and of such activity, that it sprung upon walls, and botmnded along them with the security of a cat. It was very affectionate to the owner; btit not a good watcherseldom barking, and very fond of digging in the ground.m~* But besides the jackals, there is another important group of wild canine animals, known by the general name of red dogs, which are extensively spread over many regions of the Old World, and are repre- sented in the New by the aguara wolf already mcmi- tioned, and in Australia by the dingho of New South Wales. In Asia they may be traced from tIme southern slopes of the Himalaya mountains as far south as Ceylon, and from the shores of the Medi- terranean eastwards into the Chinese dominions. They usually want the second tubercular tooth of the lower jaware rather long-bodied, with th3 eyes somewhat oblique, and the soles of the feet hairy. They are believed not to burrow, and lead a retired life in the jungles. Their natural cry re- sembles a kind of barking; and they hunt both by night and day, in small packs. Although fearful of the human race, they attack all other creatures cotirageously, even the savage and more powerful kinds, such as the wild boar and the buffalo, and are said, by acting in codperation, to brave the strength and ferocity of the tiger. They seem, indeed, to bear as inherent a hatred towards all the larger feline animals as so many of the dogs of Europe do to our domesticated cats; and they are described as being incessantly on the watch to destroy their cubs. The union of concert and courage which they display in their encounters with the adults, is assigned by Indian sport men as the chief cause of the alarm which a tiger exhibits at the sight of a dog, even of a domestic spaniel. To the group of red dogs belongs that peculiar and highly interesting species discovered in the Ne- paul country, by Mr. Hodgson, and described by him under the title of Canis primceeus. Its native name is buartsa. This kind hunts both by day and night, assembled in small packs of from six to ten individuals, and follows its game more by scent than sight, as may be inferred from the nature of the localities which it inhabits, and wears it out by contintious perseverance. Although irreclaimable in the adult state, its puppies, when captured early and shown a good example by being reared along with our domesticated kinds, are both gentle and sagacious. The species inhabits wooded and rocky mountain ranges between the Sutledj and Brahms- * Naturalists Library, Mammalia.Vol. ix., p. 212. 22 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. pootra, and, under certain modifications, seems to extend far southward to the Ghauts, the Nielgher- ries, and the coast of Coromandel. Mr. Hodgson was long resident in Nepaul, and was, we believe, the first to give us a distinct account of the buansa. He maintains it to he the original source of all do- mesticated dogs throughout the world, and hence his Adamic-looking designation of Canis primevus. Having all the habits of the hound, it may naturally be presumed, amongst hunting nations, to have been early reclaimed, and easily educated for the chase a pleasant pastime, and may no doubt in this way have originated the hunting races of different and very distant tribes. But as Mr. Low has observed, there is nothing in the characters of this, more than in those of any other given species, that can enable us to conclude that it can have produced all the dogs of the world. There is no more resem- blance between this mountain hound of Nepaul, and the sledge-dog of Greenland, than between the grey- hound of Persia, and the terrier of England.* We may here briefly mention, that the wild dog called kolsun, described by Col. Sykes, the dholc (so called) discovered by Mr. Wooler among the Mahablishwar hills, and the quihee, as indentified by Dr. Spry, are all referable to the buansa race. The wild dog of Beloochistan is both shy and ferocious, and keeps aloof from all human habita- tions. It is referred to by Colonel Hamilton Smith, as being one of the two species of wild canines which occur in the woody mountains of southeast- ern Persia, and probably extend along the lofty lands west of the Indus into Cabul. It hunts in packs of twenty or thirty, and when thus congre- gated will attack a bullock or a buffalo, and tear it in pieces in a few moments. Allied to these are the dogs called dholes in In- dia, so named from an ancient Asiatic root, signify- ing recklessness. The true dhole ( Chryseus scylax of Hamilton Smith) is described as intermediate in size between the wolf and the jackal, slightly made, of a light bay color, with a sharp face, and fierce keen eyes. In form it approaches the greyhound; the tail is straight, not bushy; the ears wide, pointed, open, and triangular; the skin is dark, with the nose, muzzle, back of the ears, and feet, of a sooty hue. It is reported to hunt in large packs, and to utter a cry, while on the scent, resembling that of a fox-hound, intermingled with snarling yelps. Dr. Daniel Johnston saw a pack attack a wild boar. The dholes have been sometimes domesticated and employed in the chase. Captain Williamson ad- mits their fleetness, but says that they are not to be depended upon for coursing, being apt to give up during a severe run, or turn aside to goats or sheep. They are, however, valuable in hog hunting. The true dhole, we understand, is a rare species, and seems to occur chiefly in the Rhamghany hills, and sometimes in the western Ghauts. The wild dog of Ceylon (Czznis Ceylonicus of Shaw) is likewise a dhole. The pariah dogs of India now demand a brief notice. It has been long a vexed question whether these pariah races were a mongrel breed, descended from domesticated species of a higher class, or the ofi~pring of indigenous wild animals, themselves na- tive to the jungles. Naturalists (misled, it may be, in this, as in other instances, by the brilliant, though not seldom foundationless, discourses of Buffon) have generally inferred as a fact, that where wild and domesticated races, nearly allied, were found to occur in the same country, the former were * Domesticated Animals, p. 649. only the emancipated or bewildered descendants of the latter. In the present case, however, the wild pariah is found in numerous packs, not only in the jungles of India proper, but also in the lower ranges of the Himalaya mountains, and is possessed of all the characteristics of primeval independence, without having assumed the similitude of wolves or jackals, which systematists seem to think must be the result of returning from slavery to freedom. There is nowhere any notice taken that they burrow, appa- rently resembling in this respect the rest of the present group; they associate in large numbers, and thereby approximate jackals; but their voice is totally different. In form, the wild pariah is more bulky than the last mentioned species, but low in the legs, and assuming the figure of a turnspit; and the tail, of a middling length, without much flexibili- ty, is more bushy at the end than at the base; the ears are erect, pointed, and turned forward; the eyes hazle; the density of fur varies according to latitude, and the rufous color of the whale body is darker in the north than in the south, where there is a silvery tinge, instead of one of black, upon the upper parts. They are said to have five claws upon all the feet, but whether there be a molar less in the lower jaw is not known. This species is in general so similar to the domestic, that if it were not ascertained that they existed in great numbers in the ~vildest forests at the base of the Himalayas, all possessing uniform colors, they would be con- sidered, in the lower provinces, as of the domestic breed, and are often mistaken for them when they follow armies. The domestic pariahs, however, are less timid, generally more mixed with other races of dogs, more mangy about the skin, and va- riously colored in the fur.~* The domesticated pariahs of India are, indeed, a very mingled race, sometimes only half reclaimed, and frequently exhibit in their outer aspect the most unequivocal signs of degradation. Though noisy and cowardly, they are not without a certain degree of sagacity, and are consequently trained by the Sheckarees to their own mode of sporting, and are sometimes employed by the villagers in their hunts. Bishop Heber was forcibly struck by finding the same dog-like and amiable qualities in these neg- lected animals as in their more fortunate brethren in Europe. They are frequently in a condition of even greater neglect and wretchedness than those of the Levant; and Captain Williamson informs us that alligators are kept in the ditches of some of the Carnatic forts, and that all the pariah dogs found within the walls are thrown over as provision for those many-toothed monsters. The pariahs, that is street dogs, of Egypt, though also greatly degenerated by an uncertain. sustenance, and frequent intermixture with curs of low degree, still retain marks of pure and ancient blood, referable to the Akaba greyhound of the deserts, a large and savage race, much prized by the wandering Bedouins, who employ it in the chase of the antelope, arid as a guard upon their tents and cattle. This species of gaze-hound greatly resem- bles, in its general form and character, the repre-- sentations of canine animals on the ancient monu- ments of Egypt. As all the wild species have the ears erect, and as so many of the domestic races have these parts folded, or drooping, it has been inferred that this deflected character is the result of domestication. There are figures of greyhounds, and other dogs, almost invariably with the ears * Naturalists Library, Mammalia.VoL ix., p. 184. 23 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF DOGS. erect, on the Egyptian catacombs of the Theban kings, above three thousand years old, while the Greek sculptures of the age of Pericles, that is nearly a thousand years after the earliest pictures, only then began to exhibit a corresponding race with the organs of hearing half deflected. The ancient Per- sian sculptures of Takhti Boustan (of the Parthian era) represent no dogs with drooping ears. Col. Hamilton Smith points out the only very ancient eastern outline of a dog with completely pendulous ears, in an Egyptian hunting scene, published by Caillaud, and taken, it is helieved, from the cata- combs above referred to. In this instance, how- ever, it is not a greyhound, but a lyemer, (lymrne, a thong,) or dog led by a leash or slip rope, the ac- companying hunter bearing his bow in hand. He rcgards it as representing the Elymean dog, perhaps first introduced to Egypt by the shepherd kings, or brought home by Sesostris, after his expedition to the Oxus. It may be said generally that the ears of domestic dogs were originally upright and pointed in all the races with long hair and a sharp muzzle; half erect in those with similar heads, but short hair, and pendulous in the blunter-headed kinds. We may next notice, as in some measure allied both to the red dogs and dholes, a remarkable wild species of Australia, called the New Holland din- ghoG7nis Australasks of recent writers. Some maintain that it is an imported species, and the very peculiar zoology of the great southern island where it now occurs does not discourage that idea. It.is, perhaps, the only link among the larger quadrupeds which in any way connects the animal products of that country with those of other regions; and its anomalous character and conduct in its present lo- cality has been deemed an argument in favor of its being regarded as an imported rather than an indig- cnous species. Of this, however, there is no proof either direct or traditional; and, in the mean while, we find it where it is, with all the essential attributes of a wild animal. It is found over all Australia, so far at least as we have actual knowledge of that terra fere incognita, and hunts either in pairs or in small families of five or six together. It is a large and powerful creature, not less active than ferocious, and when attacking sheep it seems to delight in killing as many as it can, more from an inconsider- ate wantonness than the cravings of natural hun- ger. At a station called New BilIhoIm, about 170 miles back from Sydney, one of them slew fifteen fine ewes in a single morning. When Van Diemen s Land was first colonized by European shepherds, the flocks there also suffered greatly; and such was the strategy, as well as fierceness of the wild dogs, that neither guards nor watch-fires had touch effect. Twelve hundred sheep and lambs were carried off or destroyed, in one settlement, in three months; seven hundred in another. When these wild creatures fall in with domestic dogs they immediately devour them, and in such onslaughts they are much more courageotis than wolves, in so far as they will follow sporting dogs, no doubt from the most malign of motives, almost to their masters feet. A dingho, brought to Eng- land, the manners of which were presumed to have been greatly ameliorated by a long voyage, was no sooner landed than it sprang upon an unsuspecting ass, and would have destroyed it on the spot had no one come to the rescue. Another, which was kept in the Jardin des Plantes of Paris, would rush at the bars of cages, even when he saw that the in- mate was a jaguar, a panther, or a beareach of them naturally more than his match, wherever there was a fair field and no favor. In confinement, these animals have been described as being for the most part mute, neither howling, nor barking, nor giving utterance to their feelings through any other medium than their teeth. Several individuals have existed in the gardens of the Zoological Society of London, for many years, and have never acquired the bark of the other dogs by which they are surrounded. Mr. Youatt, however, informs us that when a stranger makes his appearance, or when the hour of feeding arrives, the howl of the dingho is the first sound that is heard, and is louder than all the rest.* We know, that in a state of freedom, they give forth, from time to time, a prolonged and mel- ancholy cry. In spite of their savage nature it seems that they bear a strong affection to each othera good sign surely both of man and beast. For example, Mr. Oxley, surveyor-general of New South Wales, records as follows About a week ago we killed a native dog, and threw his body on a small bush; in returning past the same spot to-day, we found the body removed three or four yards from the bush, and the female in a dying state, lying close beside it; she had ap- parently been there from the day the dog was killed. Being so weakened and emaciated as to be unable to move on our approach, it was deemed mercy to despatch her.f We may add, that the dingho has been domes- ticated by the natives in their own wild way, and aids them in the chase of the emu and kangaroo. It is said to breed less easily with the common dog than the latter does with the wolf, although occa- sional unions have taken place. The mixed race retains much of the wild habits of the dingho. Professor Low possessed a female which produced a litter to a common dog. The progeny were handsome and playful, but by no means remarkable for docility. They inherited the natural disposition to dig in the ground, as if desirous to burrow, and when mere puppies began to attack poultrya habit which never could be cured.t Many of our readers may have seen a fine example of this mixed breed in the Edinburgh Zoological Gardens. We do not deem it necessary to add to the fore- going examples of the existence of sufficiently well-authenticated wild animals of the canine race, distinct from each other, and living in a state of nature more or less remote from man and mans dominion. We have many more at our command, but the subject is clear enough without them. We think it cannot be doubted that the dog, viewed in the complex and multifarious states in which it now exists, each in its own way so wisely subservient to one or other of the exigencies of its human lord and master, has not been derived originally either from any one wild species, like the wolf, or more direct- ly from any single reclaimed stock, like the shep- herds dog. The vast and varied range of character, mental and physical, which the domesticated kinds exhibit, demands, as it were, a more comprehensive as well as complicated origin; and even when we keep in view the obvious relationship which the natural features of many of the subdued races bear to those of their wild allies, it is still extremely difficult to account for the origin of many of our peculiar breeds. But of course the difficulty is not only greatly increased, but rendered altogether in- superable, by assuming a simple rather than a com- plex source. * The Dog, p. 20. tJournal, & c., p. 110. Domesticated Animals~ p. 650. 24 NATURAL HISTORY AND ORiGIN OF DOGS. We must bear in mind, that canine animals be- ing more completely under the dominion of man, and more personally attached and devoted to him, than any other beings, they have experienced greater modifications in form and habits, in conse- quence of that subservience, than any others. The great migratory movements of different tribes of the human race, each carrying with it one or more es- tablished kinds, into climes and countries in some measure foreign to their original constitution, would naturally produce crosses from casual contact with other kinds; and the offspring of such unions, as well as the parents which produced them, still acted on by the physical influences of each locality, the amount and nature of their food, the habitual modes of life of their human masters, and the nature of the education bestowed upon them, whether by precept or examplethese and other circumstances would constantly tend to increase the range of natural va- riation, till the different ends of the scale came at last to exhibit creatures of such different external and instinctive characters, as to give them the sem- blance of having little or nothing left in common. It must also be borne in mind, that not only is an individual dog capable of being highly instructed in his own vocation, but that his intellectual attributes as we may call them, become so deeply incorpo- rated as to descend by inheritance to after genera- tions, each bearing within it the same impressible nature, with a similar power of handing down to posterity a still more refined and delicate instinct, proportioned to the accomplishment it may have itself acquired both by descent and tuition. Hence the value of what are called breeds, and the almost unfailing instincts with which certain well-born dogs enter on their calling, even in earliest life, and perform their proper and peculiar functions from the very first, with scarcely any instructions from their masters. When symmetrical corporeal forms, and improved or inure accommodating instincts, are thus capable of being communicated by inheritance, and when the immense advantages arising to our- selves from a judicious selection or careful combina- tion of similar or dissimilar kinds is kept in view, it is not difficult to conceive how, in the course of ages, very distinct and strongly contrasted varieties should not only originate, but continue and in- crease. We admit that this intermixture of originally distinct species, such as wolves, wild dogs, jackals, and others, and the productive union of the hybrid offspring with each other, is opposed by a physio- logical dictum maintained by many, and among others by the illustrious John Hunter, certainly one of the greatest of philosophical anatomiststo wit, that mule animals, or the descendants from two distinct kinds, are not themselves prolific. This law of nature, it is maintained, has been instituted with a view to prevent that confusion which would arise from the intermingling of species in a state of naturea confusion speedily checked and extin- guished, should it by chance occur, by the barren- ness of all hybrid animals. We should be extreme- ly sorry to oppose any law of nature, and do not mean to do so at this or any future time; but with the facts before us already stated, and many more in retentis, we maintain that, at least as respects dogs, it is not a law of nature at all. As we can- not bend facts, and do not desire to demolish them, in order to suit a theory to which they are resistant, we must give up the theory itself, by whomsoever it may have been maintained. In doing so, we of course leave others to form their own opinion from the facts adduced, merely reserving to ourselves our liberty of conscience and right of private judgment, being unwilling to be codrced against our own con- victions by any mighty Hunter, or the dogmati- cal repetition of the same sentiment by others of less renown. We believe that in the unreclaimed state, although the so-called law is not imperative, the practical result is so far conformable, that hybrid animals, themselves extremely rare, either do not breed at all, or if they do, both they and their progeny speedily disappear, in consequence of their mixed characters being absorbed, as it were, by the prevailing mass of one or other of the parent kind around them. They form no tyrant minority, and soon cease to exercise any influence whatever on the normal or unmixed blood by which they are encompassed. But in a state of domestication, the condition of affairs has undergone a change from the voluntary and natural to the forced and artificial, and all surrounding circumstances being in favor of the encouragement of hybrids, th~y consequently increase from age to age, instead of becoming almost immediately extirpated. It cannot be doubted that the subjugation of the dog, from whatever source, was effected at a very early period of the history of man. Indeed, there is no period of that history, except the earliest, in which we cannot trace him as more or less the friend and ally of the human race. Along with the bull, the ram, and the goat, his companions in servitude, we find him represented not only as a sign in the heavens, but honored by a place in either hemisphere, first beneath the feet of the southern Orion, and again more northerly as indicating Sirius, the brightest of the fixed stars, the heliacal rising of which, corresponding to the full swelling of the Nile, marked the commencement of the Ethiopian and Egyptian year. His form is exhibited on the most ancient monuments of human artin the som- bre excavations of the early Indians, the mysterious chambers of the great Nilotic sepulchres, the now ruined glories of Persepolis. He was not only sculptured, but consecrated, sacrificed, even adored by many nations, and forms a frequent feature in the mythological systems of ancient Greece and Rome. But one remarkable exception occurred in early times, which has no doubt materially affected the condition of many of the existing canine races over a large surface of our globe. The worship of the dog was interdicted to the Jews, under the most dreadful denunciations; he was proclaimed to be unclean; and even the price which might be ob- tained for him was classed with the wages of sin, and was not to pollute the temple of the living God.* The people of this family, observes Professor Low, adhering to the letter of their stern laws, amidst all the fortunes of their unhappy race, even now entertain much of their ancient feelings to- wards this gift of Providence. Nay more, the Arabs, taught by an impostor, who derived much of what he taught from Jewish usages, have con- ceived something of the same feelings towards this creature. But the Arabs cannot dispense with the services of the dog amid their own wild deserts of sand, and much less when they have passed beyond them; and all the restraints of superstition have * The student of Scriptural Zoology will no doubt also hear in mind the fact, t a while in the sacred records frequent mention is made of nets and snares, and of the pursuit and capture of wild animals, there is no allusiGn throughout the ~vhole of the Jewish history to the use of dogs in hunting. 25 26 been unable to prevent the freest use of the dog in the countries to which the Arabian faith is extend- ed. Yet everywhere in countries of Mohamme- dans, the dog is regarded as something unhallowed and unclean. The true believer, indeed, will not shed the blood of the dog, but he will not afford him the shelter of his dwelling, nor admit him to that companionship for which nature has fashioned him. Hence, in Mohammedan countries, the dog rarely assumes that docility which he elsewhere possesses; and hence much of that multiplication of unowned dogs in eastern towns, which live on garbage, and share with the hymnas and vultures the task of removing impurities. This, indeed, is due only in part to Mohammedan feeling; for we know that something of the same kind existed from the earliest times in the countries of the East, even in Egypt, where the dog was venerated, and in Greece during the ages termed heroic. It is gen- erally believed that the Hindoos have acquired the feelings of their Mohammedan tyrants towards the dog; but this is an error. ~Jihe Hindoos, like other people of the East, have numerous unowned dogs in their towns; but although they are re- strained by feelings connected with their ideas of the sanctity of food, from admitting the dog to that familiarity which is customary with us, they have a great fondness for him, in which respect they re- semble all the other members of the Caucasian family not Mohammedan. It is the Jews and Mo- hammedans alone who regard this animal as some- thing unhallowed; but it is not they alone who vilify their enemies as dogs and the sons of dogs. For the people of all countries, even those who profit the most by the services of the animal, em- ploy expressions of hatred and contempt, founded on what they conceive to be the most vile and hate- ful in his attributes. His greediness, his unclean- ness, his impudence, his quarrelsome temper, nay, his submission and fawning, have furnished us with epithets wherewith to insult one another. The cause, perhaps, lies no deeper than this, that the dog living in our society, we are able to observe his habits and customs, and perhaps to find in them too faithful a similitude of some of our own. Were monkeys to live amongst us, we should doubtless be able to find in them similar traits of character which we might apply to our neighbors, and so be as ready to speak of the son of a monkey as the son of a dog.~* It is not our intention to enter at this time into the detailed history of the domesticated breeds. Some knowledge of that history may be sought and obtained, so far, at least, as books can give it, from the works named at the head of this article, and from others which we need not name. We shall conclude with another extract from the volume last quoted, and already noticed by us more at length in a preceding number. But of all the attributes of the dog, those which seem the most to have claimed attention, are his attachment to man in general, and his fidelity to individuals in particular. The dog very rarely, and never but under peculiar circumstances, seeks to gain his natural liberty. He prefers, to the state of freedom, the protection of man, and lingers near our dwellings, even when he is shunned and dis- owned by us. When he attaches himself to any one, all his actions indicate that the relation is one which has a foundation in the affections of the animal, and does not vary with the degree of bene NATURAL HISTORY AND ORIGIN OF THE DOG. fits conferred. The dog that shares the lot of the miserable and poor, is no less faithful than another that enjoys all that can gratify the senses. The peas- ant boy, who rears up his little favorite in his cabin of mud, and shares with it his scanty crust, has a friend true as he who has ease and abundance to bestow. Release, from the cord of the blind beggar, the dog that leads him from door to door, and will he follow you a step for all with which you can tempt his senses Confine him in your mansion, and feed him with the waste of plenteous repasts, and let his forlorn companion approach your door to crave a scrap of food, and the dog will fly to him with fidelity unshaken, and bound with joy to be allowed once more to share his miserable lot. Again and again has the dog of the humblest and poorest re- mained faithful to the last, and laid himself down to die on the grave of his earliest friend. Recently, a poor boy in a manufacturing town had contrived, from his hard earnings, to rear up a little dog. The boy, as he was passing along to his daily work, ~vas struck down, and dreadfully maimed, by the fall of some scaffolding. He was carried on a shutter, mangled and bleeding, to an hospital near, attended by the dog. When he was brought to the door, the dog endeavored to enter along with him; but being shut out, he laid him- self down. Being driven beyond the outer gate, he went round and round the walls, searching for any opening by which he could enter. He then lay down at the gate, watching every one who entered with wistful eyes, as if imploring admittance. Though continually repulsed, he never left the precincts night or day, and even before the wound- ed boy had breathed his last, the faithful dog, struck with total paralysis, had ceased to live. It is well known that the soldiers of the French levies were often mere boys, brought from their country homes, to undergo at once all the rigors of the service. They were often accompanied by their little dogs, who followed them as best they could. Often, after the carnage of a desperate field, these dogs have been found stretched on the mangled bodies of their youthful friends. A French officer, mortally wounded in the field, was found with his dog by his side. An attempt having been made to seize a military decoration on the breast of the fallen offi- cer, the dog, as if conscious how much his master had valued it, sprung fiercely at the assailants. An unfortunate soldier, condemned for some offence to die, stood bandaged before his comrades appointed to give the fatal volley, when his dog, a beautiful spaniel, rushed wildly forward, flew into his arms to lick his face, and for a moment interrupted the sad solemnity. The comrades, with tears in their eyes, gave the volley, and the two friends fell together. A. youthful conscript, severely wounded in the terrible field of Eylau, was carried to the hospital amongst hundreds of his fellows. Many days afterwards, a little dog had found its way, no one knew how, into the place, and amongst the wounded, the dying, and the dead, had searched out his early friend. The fainting boy was found by the attendants with the dog beside him licking his hands. The youth soon breathed his last, arid a kind comrade took charge of the dog: hut the animal would take no food, pined away, and shortly died. And a thousand other examples might he given, of an affection in this creature unaltered by changes of fortune, and enduring to the last,* Who has not heard of the unfortunate pilgrim of * Domesticated Animals, p. 668. *Domesticcaed Animals, p. 693. PILGRIMAGE OF GREEK CHRiSTIANS TO THE JORDAN. Helvellyn, and of his faithful dogfaithful even in deathimmortalized alike by the bard of chivalry and the laurel-honoring laureate We entirely concur with Mr. Youatt in his opinion, that while poverty may drive from a cold hearth many a com- panion of our happier hours, it was never known to diminish the love of one canine attendant. From the Cincinnati Chronicle. PILGRIMAGE OF THE GREEK CHRISTIANS TO THE WATERS OF THE JORDAN. ABADIYEM, MT. LEBANON, August, 1846. DURING the night the camp of the pilgrims was a theatre of licentious revelry, and more resembled the ancient celebrations of the Grecian Mysteries than an assembly of Christians. The present race of Greeks retain almost all of the manners and cus- toms of their pagan ancestors, or rather the vicious part of them, though baptized with Christian appel- lations. At 2 oclock A. M. the soldiers roused the crowd, and in half an hour afterwards they were all on their march for the river. We permitted them to precede us nearly an hour, and then followed them leisurely on our horses, observing the scene. The full moon was shedding its mellow radiance over plain and mountain, affording just light enough to bring into view the whole surrounding landscape, yet leaving everything in that kind of gloomy indistinctness that rendered still more dreary the savage desert waste around usthe blaze of large torches of burning pine, carried by perhaps a hundred soldiers at intervals amongst the multitudes, extending some miles in advance, and the glare and flames arising from piles of dry thorny shrubs, set on fire along the road, threw a melancholy light over the fearful solitudethe shouts of the pilgrimsthe noise of their animalsthe frightful screams of hyenas, jack- als, and other beasts of prey, roused from their lairs by our untimely intrusionthe hour, the place, and its historical associations, all awakened sublime emotions, and left an impression on my memory that no time can efface. The plain of the Jordan, on the west side of the river, is here, I think, about ten miles wide, and, with the exception of some small spots of verdure around the fountains, is a perfect desert, producing only a few leafless, thorny shrubs, and here and there a thistle, seeming as if the earth could bring forth these two elements of the primal curse where nothing else can grow. Directly across the river here is the plain of Moab, on which the Israelites pitched their tents previous to their invasion of the promised land; and from some mountain eminence above Balaam exclaimed, From the top of the rock I see him, and from the hills I behold him. How goodly are thy tents, 0 Jacob, and thy tabernacles, 0 Israel ! The plain is perhaps three miles in width, and looked a little more verdant than that on the west side of the river. I looked anxiously along the mountain ridge back of this plain for some eminence higher than the rest, that I could fix upon as the ancient Pisgah, but in vain. The whole summit presents a uniform outline, with scarcely an indentation. The summit where the false prophet built his seven altars and repaired to curse Jacob, and to which Moses subse- quently ascended to view the heritage of his people, was probably some peak below the general ridge. The pilgrims reached the river just at the dawn of day, and all plunged into it with as much frantic fanaticism as the pagan Hindoos do into the Ganges. With some difficulty I made my way, on my horse, up to the bank of the river, where I could obtain a full view of the bathers. There were, perhaps, more than a thousand in the water at once, men, women, and children, a part with a little clothing on them, and the rest entirely naked, thrusting themselves and each other under the muddy flood. Mothers would plunge their young infants under the water, perhaps half a dozen times in quick suc- cession, until life was almost extinct. And men and women, ~vhose feeble and tottering limbs had to be supported in going down the steep bank, rushed into the river with the suppleness and im- petuosity of youthful swimmers; and the blind and the lame seemed to forget their infirmities in the delirium of fanaticism. I had not sat in my place three minutes when I saw one of the thoughtless multitude borne down the stream by the impetuous current, to return no more. The frantic crowd cast a momentary glance towards the drowning man, and then resumed their orgies as before. In a little time another, and another, shared his fate; and a fourth, a woman, was instantly killed, near the river, by falling from a camel. No efforts were or could be made by the friends of the drowned men to recover their bodies; they must return to camp in another hour, and thence to Jerusalem on the following morning, and leave them to be devoured by wild beasts when they should have floated to th~ desolate shore of the Dead sea. Leaving this scene of fanaticism and death, we made our way down through the dust to the mouth of the river. The Jordan, at the place of bathing, is, I thinlc, about fifty-five feet wide; the banks are at least ten feet high, and it runs with an almost irresistible current. It is skirted on both sides with trees and small shrubs, principally willow, deep green and luxuriant, presenting a delightful contrast with the frightful desert bordering it. As it ap- proaches the sea it becomes somewhat wider; and at the mouth a small delta has been formed, and it disembognes itself through two channels, each per- haps eighty feet broad. Some three or four miles above the mouth of the river, and from thence down to the sea, we saw large quantities of drift-wood, thrown out a quarter of a mile or more from the stream, showing that the Jordan still overflows its banks, as it did in ancient timesa fact that most travellers have questioned. The plain, over which we rode between the ford and the sea, was covered with a fine dust, into which our horses sank at every step half way to their knees. A thin crust had been left on the surface by the late rains, and the whole district resembled a bed of loose ashes which had been wetted by a light shower and quickly dried in the sun. Not the least trace of vegetable existence over the wide expanse of many miles. REMARKABLE PRESENCE OF MINDA workman employed in one of the mining shafts of the Scottish Central Railway lately had a most miraculous es- cape. He had lighted the fusees connected with the charges of powder for the purpose of blasting, and gave the signal to be drawn up; but the rope slip- ping, the poor fellow was suspended a few feet above where the explosion was to take place, with no other prospect before him but instant death. With great fortitude and presence of mind, he called out to lower him, which was immediately done, and, advancing cautiously to the burning fusees, he extinguished them. On examination, they were found to have burned within half an inch of the powder 28 PUNCH. FINE WEATAER AND THE CROPS. WARMED into life by sunny showers, The forest trees their buds unfold; The meadows gleam with cuckoo flowers, And bright marsh-marigold: And the daisy springeth up With its sister buttercup. On hyacinth and cowslip wild Feeds daintily the honey-bee; In thicket and in grove the child Plucks the anemone. Bloom and verdure everywhere Cheer the eye with pictures fair. Mid all that s beautiful and bright Around us, not a vision sweet Can match that truly charming sight, The growing crop of wheat. Talk not of the flowery deli! Wheat, my bucks, is looking well Fair is thy prospect, blooming May, This rather late, but lovely spring; Fairer the prospects of the hay A more important thing. How the mangel-wurtzel grows! Never mind the opening rose. The young and tender turnips see (Oh! how delicious are their greens!) They are as healthy as can be: Behold you thriving beans, Fields of clover, oats, and peas, What are spangled meads to these l The money market may be tight; But gazing Natures beauties oer, I feel that all will soon be right; The rate of disconnt lower; Coupled with improving rents, Scrip, bank stock, and three per cents. The fond conjecture I will risk That business will again, ere long, Become, like vegetation, brisk, Or yonder skylarks song; And my hope has found these props In the weather and the crops. AMERICAN BOOKSELLERSENGLISH AUTHORS. Mr. Putnam, American bookseller, while pass- ing through England for New York, has written a rather affecting letter to the Times on the matter of American book-stealing. A part of his defence isEnglish publishers rob Americans. No doubt they do; nevertheless, because a robbery is com- mitted on either side of the Atlantic, the act is no less a theft. A Barrington in New York is not rendered decent and respectable by the exist- ence of a Barrington in London. We are, how- ever, happy to hear, on the authority of Mr. Put- nam, that American publishers would prefer to pay English authors ; and, implies Mr. P., they would have done so but for the unjust and intem- perate abuse of English writers, whose hard words have delayed an international arrange- ment. Thus, call a pirate a pirate, and the water-rat continues in the wickedness of his ways. Speak him fairly as the pink of honesty, and the soft flattery makes him a gentleman complete. PUNCH. Therefore, let us not brand American publishers as the snappers-up of English volumes; and give them all honor as men delicately mindful of the property of others, and always insisting upon money down for its usufruct. Let us henceforth borrow some of Mr. Slicks soft sawder ; well applied, it may turn petty larceny into punctilious probity. Mr. Putnamon his own showinghas done good service for the honor of the American name. More than four years ago, he informs us, he procured personally the signatures of ninety- seven Airierican publishers and printers to a peti- tion for international copy-right This petition was referred to a select commit- tee in both houses of congress; but the exciting controversies about Oregon, & c., unfortunately in- tervened just as success became probable. Mr. Putnam avows that he has paid English authors a proportion of the profits of their reprints. We are delighted to make known to our readers so honorable an exception to the general custom; and beg to point to Mr. Putnam as an example to be followed by the fagins of letters (for Mr. Putnam uses Punchs words) on both sides of the Atlantic. Mr. Putnam further declares, that the American publishers as a body would prefer to pay English authors for a copyright in their books. This is unexpected news. Mr. Putnam is about to sail for New York. Fair winds go with him! And when he arrives there, let him perfect the good work broken by the threatened great guns of Oregon. Let him gather about him all the American publishers, that they may again petition congress to do an act of honesty; whilst at the same tinie the American ambassador in Englandhimself a distinguished man of letters shall be instructed to move the British govern- ment to the like fair dealing. We think we can promise to American authors the fullest and heart- iest co~peration of English writers. For, brethren of America, whilst we seek to refine and elevate the rest of the world, why should we neglectas we have so long neglectedthe benighted book- sellers? MUSINGS ON MUMMY-PAPER. It has been proposed to Mehemet Ali to con- vert into paper the cloth of the mummies, of which it is calculated 420,000,000 must be deposited in the pits of Egypt.Spettatore Egiziano. Oh, shade of Memnon! Cheops and Rameses, shake in your cere-cloths! Save smoke-dried pashas of true Eastern phlegm, none Can read, unmoved, the end of all your glory, Announced in the Grand Cairo Spettatore; How, in the place of mere cloths Of woollen, linen, cotton, More or less rotten, As made at Manchester, and sold by every draper, They re going to take the bier-cloths That wrap the sons and daughters of old Nile, From gilded kings to rough-dressed rank and file, And turn them into paper! We re not told, in the Egyptian Spectator, What daring speculator Conceived the notion; but I d make a bet he grew lip to the thought from watching Dr. Pettigrew, But yet, methinks, the venerable sheets, In which have slept, their long, millennial night, Those who once trod Theban, or Memphian streets, Should not receive the vulgar black and white, Impressed by common types on common reams; Nomummy-paper should record the dreams Of those who d have society rolled back Into the track Which the world left five hundred years ago The lovers of the stony stalu quo Standers in the old ways, whom nothing stirs, To whom the wisdom of our ancestors Is wisdom yesterday, to-day, forever; Who, midst a world of change, boast, blind, of changing never. On mummy-paper a Lord George might find Fit place for utterance of his stable mind ; On mummy-paper Gladstone should dilate On old-~vorld theories of church and state Let mummy-paper hear our penal laws Gainst those who hold a different faith or cause; On mummy-paper print the outworn story, And useless shibboleths of whig and tory Watch-words that rouse no cryexploded shams Our glorious constitution, and such flams In short, print on it (we 11 lend aid most hearty) A. library for next years country party. TilE OPEN SEA BLOCKED UP. PUNCH. At some sozree or conversazione, Midst talk of Young, Champollion, or Belzoni, And such hieroglyphic twaddle, Unwinding nimbly, swaddle after swaddle, The wrappings aromatic Of some aristocratic Dandy, of hundred-gated Thebes or Heliopolis, Consigned to our mushroom of a metropolis Per last Peninsular and Oriental packet; And from the hush of his Necropolis So deep and drear Tumbled ashore~ midst the unholy racket Of the Southampton pier. Heaven only knows what acreage of mummy-hood Is resting in its thousand-year-old dummy hood Under the desert sands Nor what miles upon miles of linen bands Are rotting in the bosom of the lands Which Mehemet commands. But these are times when not een mummies Can longer rest as dummies And as the grains of wheat found at their side Were sown, have grown, and now grow far and wide, So must old Egypts gentlemen and ladies, To the disgust of each old-fashioned ghost, Give up their cerements to the hand ~vhose trade is To turn them into foolscap or Bath-post, To fly round all creation, In tongues of every nation, Spreading (at least we 11 hope it) useful infor- mation. 29 struction to the oceanic thoroughfare. Rules, we believe, have been laid down, that in taking up, figure-heads are to be turned towards Russia, and ships are then to drive off in the direction of the Dardanelles. FINE ARTS ANn FINE LINEN. The shirt is beginning to open out a fine field to the artist, and we never unfold one of these articles of costume that does not unfold to us some new beauty. We hear complaints on all sides against the injustice of making an under garment of that which, from the talent employed in its illustration deserves to he worn in the most conspicuous man- ner. We wish some true friend to the fine arts would set the fashion, during the summer season, of making an external article of dress of the shirt, by wearing it en blouse, and thus preventing the concealment of those exquisite productions of the artists pencil which give to the linen the lineaments of some favorite danseuse or cantatrice. The mod- ern shirt is becoming quite a picture, and we hope to see one take its proper place in the next yeafs exhibition. The portrait of a gentleman is ad- mitted, however little there may be to command attention, either in his physiognomy or in the style of its treatment; then why should the portrait of gentlemans shirt he invidiously excluded Where is Echo He is the only individual who can answer everything; but if he answers that we will eat him that is to say, we will eat our own wordsin- stantly. CURIOSITIES OF COSTUME. Some of our fashionable contemporaries have fa- vored us with powerful articles, four or five columns in length, describing the dresses worn at her majes- tys drawing-room. The number of diamonds that sparkle through the descriptions to which we allude, make them altogether very brilliant produc- tions. For our own parts, we shrink back over- powered at the mere contemplation of so much blonde and bar~ge, such mountains of tulles and taffetas. Sometimes, however, a bit of homely description comes in, that is quite refreshing; and it is truly delightful to arrive at a paragraph which informs us that oiie of the ladies was present at court in that simple garmenta corded petticoat. Her appearance must have afrorded a quiet contrast to the silks and satins around, which must have been delightful to look upon. Some of the costumes of the gentlemen must have heen rather embarrassing. For instance, a viscount, we are told, wore the triple collars of the orders of the Bath, Onelph, and the Tower and Sword. Considering that the day was almost a dog-day, the viscount in three collars, one a-top o totlier, like the successive layers of colds caught by the hackney coachman, must have been fearfully embarrassing. It is a pity that one of the three collars could not have been made into a Byron tie for the occasion. The chief judges of each of the three courts ~vore a porteullis about their necks, in addition to their gold collars of SS, which must have given them a stiff-necked appear- ance, highly conducive to an asI)ect of dignity. The number of ships going to the Black sea to The Grand Duke Constantine of Russia wore his load with corn, is said to be so great that it is Russia ducks, and Prince Albert held a chapter of quite difficult to get along the Archipelago, in con- the (shower) Bath, to prepare him for the fatigue sequence of the crowd of vessels. The sea of of assisting in the reception held by her most gra- Marmora has all the appearance of Fleet street at cious majesty. Punch was present with his field four oclock in the afternoon; and the marine I marshals baton, and he wore his uniform good police have as much as they can do to prevent ob- I humor on the auspicious occasion. CAPSICUM HOUSE FOR YOUNG LADIES. CHAPTER VI. MISS GRIFFINS SECRET.TIIE GRAY MARE. Now, could Miss Griffin have screwed herself to the Amazonian pitchcould she have risen to her oWn ideal of feminine firmnesssure we are she would have sacrificed Miss Fluke upon the spot, by denouncing her as the expelled one! But for the milkiness of human nature seething in the bosom of the mistress of Capsicum, the forlorn Miss Fluke with all her boxes would have been sent forth into the wide world, to travel onward to an obscure grave, a rejected Griffin. This judgment, though deserved by the offender, was too terrible to be pro- nounced by the mistress; who, it may be, thought also of the scandal that might fly-spot the white fame of Capsicum. And, therefore, mingled motives of benignity and profit made Miss Griffin tolerant of the audacious Fluke; who, by the laughing wil- fulness of seventeen, confounded and governed a spinster of middle agesupposing the usual number of spinster years to be ninety. As Miss Fluke whisked from the room, carried out of it by the unchecked vigor of her laughter, an infectious gayety fell upon the remainder nineteen young ladies. Mirth ran from face to face, like a line of sudden light. Eyes, black and blue, were dissolving with the fun that shone within them; and lips put themselves into all shapes and contrivances to repress the laughter thatlike heart-delighting winegently whizzed and oozed at the corners, ready to burst into sparkling foam for mans sweet intoxication. Nineteen pair of lips, some in little red lumps, some growing redder beneath the biting pearl, some tightly pressed, some involving one another, and all vainly trying to imprison and slay the god of mirth, that, engendered in the heart, at length burst forth upon the air with a silvery shout. And Miss Griffin, for the first time, knew she had a secret, at the moment she felt it was dis- covered. Those nineteen melodious voices were so many accusing spirits, taking all shapes and sounds. Now they tinkled in her ears like a chain of wed- ding-rings; and now, like the softest and most honeyed notes of a church organ, they accompanied the hymeneal cherubimall heads and voices chanting I WILL ! In that prophetic flash did Miss Griffin see Mr. Tamerlane Corks in a new blue coat and white watered satin waistcoat. (She saw no more.) He held the ring; and she felt a cold shiver run to the root of her third finger. Corks smiled, andto her thoughtlooked like Cupid as a bird-catcher, the picture of her earliest valentine. In that lightening moment Miss Griffin felt her marriage minute was come! All things sympathized with the time. The pigeons without cooed loudly down the chim- ney; the,orange-buds no doubt broke in the conser- vatory; and, in the garden, as singeth Planche, the lyrist The lily of the valley rang her peal of silver bells. And all this, credulous reader, all this came into the mind of Miss Griffin, struck there by the leading laugh of Miss Fluke, conscientiously followed by all her nineteen schoolfellows. But Miss Griffinshaking her feelings as partlet shakes herrumpled feathersbecame calm, solemnly calm. The Marriage-Class is dismissed, she said, with a stern serenity; as though with the words she turned away Hymen from her own heart, like an importunate linkman whose services were by no means required. The Marriage-Class is dismissed, she repeated; and the young ladies, demurely as kittens bent on mischief, walked as with velvet feet from the room, every one of them carrying about her lips the beginning of another laugh, to be duly finished up stairs. What will become of that Miss Fluke, said the Griffin, still avoiding the eye of Corks, as though it were a bullet, who can tell ?~It is not pleasant to ruin a young lady for life No, said the sepulchral Corks. Otherwise, continued the governess, I would send her with a penny-post letter home. However, I am afraid that, go when she will from this house, she will never leave it with the gray mare. Tile gray mare ! we cried. What of the grey mare Oh, a symbolmerely a symbol, answered Miss Griffin. We gracefully pressed for an ex- planation. Well, then, you must understand, said the governess, that when a young lady, fitted ~vith all the acquirements of a wife and a house- keepera young lady, educated at Capsicum House, to guide her husband as Minerva guides her pea- cock, with reins unfelt, unseenmere reins of moonshine Sunshine, we suggested, as an improved material for conjugal harness. Say sunshine, consented Miss Griffin. When she quits this place, duly furnished for the altar, the dining-room and the pantry, she is always taken to her home by the gray mare. When marriedif she remain a true Capsicum, and I am proud to say I have known but few backsliderswhen married, sir, she is carried to the home of her husband by four gray mares. For in a gray mare, siryou shall by-and-by see our own darling in the pad- dockin a gray mare, as you ought to know, there is a proverb and a symbol. We bowed to the existence of the proverb; and thenfor we marked that Miss Griffin desired to talkand then we observed, The saying is very ancient. Yes; the gray mare is olddoubtless very old? I am assured, sir, by Doctor Pumpus, answered Miss Griffin, that she came out of Noahs ark with Noahs wife and Noahs sons wives. No doubt of it, sounded Corks. I have somewhere read that the Amazonswe have few such women now, and Corks looked at Miss Griffin the Amazons always strung their bows from a gray mare; and I believe it is not saying too much of those distinguished ladies to assert, that their arrow never missed their man, and their bow never wanted a string. Happy women The world was worth living in then, said Miss Griffin with a sigh. It is for you, madam, said Corks, to roll back that world. As for the gray mare, her history J mean her domestic historyis yet to be de- veloped. I have no doubt she is aa myth finished Corks, looking somewhat appallingly for an explanation of the syllable he had ventured. It has just struck me, Mr. Corks, that as we have the Order of the Sheep, the Order of the Elephantif I am right, ventured Miss Griffin, the Order of the Lion, and the Order of the Bear, (an excellent order,) for menthat it would be an admirable institution to have the Order of the Gray Mare, for women. Splendid ! shouted Corks. Why not found the Order yourself, dearest madam, and hold 30 CAPSICTXM HOUSE FOR YOUNG LADIES, your first chapterif I am not wronghere in Capsicum House ~ I almost feel it is my mission, said Miss Grif- fin. Nevertheless, society is hardly ripe for it. To be sure, until the proper time shall come, the sisterhood might be one of secrecy. Every wife found worthy of the Order of the Gray Mare need not show it. At least, not before company, we ventured to remark. And then Miss Griffin shook her head and cried My dear sir, on second thoughts, only think of the temptation ! Very true, we answered; no; it is not to be expected. T would be like wearing diamonds under a nightcap. Mr. Corks! exclaimed Miss Griffin, as though she looked to him for protection; and then with cold composure she said, if you please, as we are upon the subject, and the school is up for the day, we will walk to the paddock. Mr. Corks, bending his arm like the bow of Cupid, offered it to Miss Griffin, who just laid her five fingers on the proffered limb, as though play- fully afraid of it. We descended into the garden, and turning zig- zag right and left, came into the poultry-yard. Suddenly Miss Griffin stopped, and pointing to a gander that stood motionless beside a small, low shed, observed, Look there! The goose has been four weeks last Tuesday on her eggs; and except to eat a bit, and now and then to wash himself, that faithful bird, her mate, has never left that spot. Corks moved his head up and down in solemn admiration; and then, with his searching eye upon thc gander, slowly remarked, Philoprogenitiveness very large. Feeling that some word was requircd of us, we said, Such tenderness in an irrational creature, madam, is a touching sight. Oh, sir, cried Miss Griffin, and pathetic~illy, too, Oh, sir, when I sometimes read the news- papers, and think of the faithfulness of the birds of the air, I confess it, I blush for a part of my species. ~ It is very kind of you, Miss Griffin, said we. Not but what I sometimes think we wrong poor animals. Now, geese, Mr. Corksand suddenly the professor of intonation looked quite alive to the subject I think geese very much slandered. I am convinced of it, geese have great judgment. Well, madam, I must say itmy experience as an actor cannot wholly deny it, and Corks feebly smiled. And do the young ladies, we inquired pur- sue their studies here Have you a Poultry- Class1 Most certainly, answered Miss Griffin, as she walked on. how defective is the education of a woman who cannot detect a chicken from a mater- nal hen; a duckling from the grandmother of ducks; a young stubble goose from a goose grown gray with years! Reflect, sir, for a moment on the do- mestic acerbity likely to be occasioned by old poultry brought to table. I have known, sir, men of the best temperswith tough poultry to carveturned into demons. Now here, sir, the pullet is watched, I may say, from the egg to the spit; and thus the serenity of the future husband is unruffled by drum- sticks. But here, said Miss Griffin, here is the paddock with the gray mare. CHAPTER vii. MISS FLUKE RIDES THE GRAY MARE. THE DRUNKEN HUSBAND. STAY, madam, we observed; we may dis- turb the young ladies. Saying this, we shrank behind a tree, and Miss Griffin, gently pressed by Mr. Corks, felt herself squeezed aside from the gate she was about to open. At a glimpse we saw that all the school was assembled in a corner of the pad- dock, gathered about the gray mare, whose keen, proud, handsome headbearing a garland of bach- elors-butmons, jump-up-and-kiss-mes, and Venus- looking-glass, selected and woven, as we afterwards learned, by Miss Flukerose above the talking, laughing crowd that with white, small, tender hands patted the mares satin skin, or braided her silken mane, or offered her delicate grass or newest hay. Dear young ladies ! we cried; they seem very fond of the creature. It is a part of their education, sir, said Miss Griffin, always to remember what is due to the gray mare. It is always Here Miss Griffin was interrupted by a loud musical shouting, and clapping of hands; and the crowd of girls breaking apart, the gray mare, throwing up her head, as though proud of its beauty, leapt forth like a hound, Miss Griffinwith beauti- ful presence of mindkilling a ready scream by plugging her mouth with her pocket-handkerchief. It s that Miss Fluke, she cried at length, in a smothered voice, at the same time unconsciously pinching the arm of Corks, to relieve her feelings. It was Miss Fluke. And without saddle or bri- dleher little hand buried in the creatures mane she sat the gray mare as easily and as smilingly as though she sat upon a cushion. And as the mare broke into a gallop, Miss Fluke now waved a green branch over her head, and now laid it on the mares neck; and the young ladys big black curls shook merrily about her glowing face; whilst her gleam- ing eyes seemed to daIly with danger, as though she loved it. It was noon; and sure we are that Apollo, with his eye for beauty, must havc pulled up his horses for one little point of time to admire Miss Fluke upon the gray mare. Fluke Fluke,dear Fluke, love,dont, cried and shouted the girls, as the mare galloped faster and faster; the young lady mightily enjoying the fun, and waving a graceful bravado with her green branch. She 11 break her neck, cried Miss Griffin with solemn resignation. The next minute the gray mare leapt the five-barred gate like a cat, coming down close at the feet of Miss Griffin, pulled up by the rider. Miss Griffin screamed. I said I d do it, and Palmer s lost the gloves! cried Miss Fluke, as, in a second, she subsided from the mare to the earth, shook her curls, dropt a curtsey, and bounded like a ball out of sight. Dear madam, said the sonorous Corks, if she can only ride the gray mare in that fashion all her life, what a Griffin she 11 makewhat a glory she II shed upon Capsicum House ! Miss Griffin smiled a flurried smile, arid begged for some minutes to be excused. She must follow that rebel. Mr. Corks could not suffer her to cross the poultry-yard alone; and left us to open the gate for the reiidmnission of the mare into her paddock. This done, we sauntered with premeditated leisure not to interfere with the professor of intonation 31 CAPSICUM HOUSE FOR YOUNG LADIES. back to the garden. We entered a walk, and were musing, now on the hopes and vanities of life, and now on the bursting buds of peonies, when we heard a sharp, short sound, that revealed the near presence of soda-water. Guided by our ear, we turned with our best speed into another walk, and instantly beheld a man, seated in a garden-chair, with a goblet to his mouth. Looking full at us with his eyes over the rim of the glass, he undis- turbedly drank; took the glass from his lips; fetched a deep breath; and, with a ragged voice, said Good morning, sir. Good morning. A nice cool draught that, we answered. Ha, sir! They re all very well, these nice cool draughts, cried the stranger; very well in their way; but oh, dear sir, what a pleasant thing brandy-and-water would be, if there was no to-mor- row morning in it! The man had a loose, potable look. It was plain that his face, like hot-house fruit, had ripened under a glass. It seemed to us very strange that such a man should be found in such a place of floral purity and sweetness. We had as soon looked for dis- tilled juniper in the cups of tulips. The man looked heavily at us, and without another word put his hand to his head as though remembrances of last nightlike hammerswere beating there. Pray, sir, we said with our best politeness, do you belong to Capsicum house? Not yet; Im only here on trial; and I in a little afeard I shant quite answer. They tell me I aint half quarrelsome enough. I m sorry for it; and nobody can say more. I m sorry for it, he repeated emphatically. Finding him so far communicative we proceeded. What, sir, may be your profession here? Oh, I m on liking for the Drunken Husband, answered the stranger; and we stared very widely. Oh, I am, as sure as my name is Blossoms. But, as I said, Im afeard I shant answerI m too peaceable by half. The man is intoxicated, we thought; and immediately Mr. Blossoms divined our opinion, for he very knowingly shook his head, and cried, No, I aint ; not a bit on it. The iDrunken Husband ! we exclaimed. And is it possible that Miss Griffin can entertain, even in fiction, so horrid an animal? Miss Griffin, replied Mr. Blossoms, is a lady of the world: and though I may not he fortnate enough to suit herthough I may he too peaceable for the average run, as she saysI won~t hear a word agin her. Last night, you see, was my night for coming home very drunk indeed, and I m suffering for it. But then, it s all in the way of busness, and a man must live. Finding our- selves in this worlddust and ashes as we all are we must make the best of it. Still, my mind tells me that I dont answer ; I m too peaceable in my liquor. If I could only remember to break a few windows, I should begin to have hopes. You never mean to say, we cried, that itis your sole business to addict yourself to drurnten- ness? No, not my principal employment, certainly not; it s only a job for over hours, replied Mr. Blossoms. My reglar business, you see, is this I m a collector of the Water Rate; the Nymph and Lily Company; but it s a poor matter by itself. Now if I can only add to it. for a certainty, the Drunken Husband, I shall feel myself a gentleman for life. We could not distinguish the true meaning of the man through his haziness of speech. We confess that we were not prepared for such attachment on the part of Miss Griffin to first principlesthough they were the especial pets of the Lady of Capsicum as to imagine that, for hire and reward, she engaged the representative of a bacchanal husband as a necessary agent in the complete education of young British lad~bs for the future wives of Eng- land. In our ignorance, as it will be shown, we- greatly undervalued the enthusiasm of a devoted woman. You say, Mr. Blossoms, we continued, that last night was your night for coming home drunk. You do not mean to infer that Capsicum House is your home? Most undeniably, sir, I do, replied Blossoms boldly. Look here, sir, and understand me if you can. We bowed. Miss Griffinwho knows the heart of man as she knows the A, B, C, and can put together and spell all sorts of feelings Miss Griffin takes it upon herself to he mother to so many young women for so much a yearand hard work it must be, take my word for it. She teaches em life, as I may say, in a gallautee-show, afore they re called upon, poor little things! to go and squeeze for themselves. Every young lady here is brought up for a wife. Now, sir, Miss Griffin says that the whole philosophyyes, I think that that itthe whole philosophy of a good deal of wedlock is tb make the best of an early misfortin Hurnph! a sad employment, we observed. Picking oakum s nothing to it, said Blossoms, a little softened. Well, sir, it cant be denied and Miss Griffin, as a woman of the ~vorld, knows itdrunkenness is a good deal about. We nodded in mournful affirmation. A husband, sir, with drink, is a wild beasta lion coming home to lay down with the lamb, cried Blossoms, his eyes slightly twinkling with emotion. You seem quite alive to the evil of the vice, Mr. Blossoms? I in all, over alive to it, sir; and I intend to bolish it. That s why Im so ill this morning. You see, I m hiredor, as Miss Griffin says, my mission here at Capsicum house is thisto take the part of the Drunken husband ; and to do in so to the lifeti) make such a noise at the door when I come home o nightsand such a hubbub when ihey let me into the passageand to shout and sing and sit upon the stairs, and swear I II never go to bedso that all the young ladies, seeing wh at a tipsy husband is, should take the pledge one amono another, never to have anything to do with the animal. That s my mission, said Blossotas. Very noble, indeed, we observed. Only the ~vorst of it is, urged I3lossoms, with a mild nielancholy the worst of it is, I cant he violent enough. To be sure, they tell me that I would kiss Carraways last night ; that s getting a little better; a little. And Blossoms wanly smiled with self-encouragement. Oh, you 11 do, no doubt: an(l then the cause is so itohle, we said. Its Miss Griffins notion, attd she carries it out beautiful. Every young lady, wrapt up in three shawls, with short candles, takes it in turn to sit up till three iii the morning, to see what a wretch I am. Carraways lets me in ; atid when Ive had a good wrangle with the banisters, trid shown what a brute a lord o the creation can bewhy then the gardener leads me to bed. It s all in Virtues cause, says Miss Griffin but just now what a precious headache Virtue s give me. 32 33 From Sharpes Magazine. See if his couch be smoothed to suit his pleasure. A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. FROM THE GERMAN OF DR LA MOTTE FOIJQUE. DRAMATIS P5RSON~E. CHARLEMAGNE, King of the Franks. HAGENULPH, a Saxon knight. WINDRrJDA, his wife. Armed Saxons. Knights a~zd Woodsmen belonging to the train of Chalemagne. A thick forest, with a hut. WINDRUDA (comesforthfrom the door.) HOME fly the eagles to their lofty nests; The slanting beams of yon pale autumn sun Stream feebly through dim fog and faded leaves ; Where lingers he Why stays my souls beloved HAGENULPH 5 VOICE (afar.) The Saxon rode through the woods alone; The eagle sat on the dark gray stone; They gazed on each other with friendly mien, Each of the twain was a knight, I ween. WINDRUDA. That is the song of mighty Hagenuiph; I hasten to prepare his evening meal. [She enters the hut. HAGENULPH 5 VOICE (nearer.) Ha! trusty Lightfoot, is thy stall in ruins Cleft by the ruthless whirlwind! Wait awhile, We will amend it for thee. WINDRUDA (re~nters after a pause.) Hownot yet Surely I heard his voice. [Calling aloud. Where lingerest thou Give answer, Hagenulph! HAGENULPH 5 VOICE. I come, I come. WINDRUDA. How canst thou pause when thy Windruda calls? HAGENULPH 5 VOICE. Patience awhile! The hurricane hath shattered My brave steeds dwelling. T will be soon repaired. WINDRUDA (aside, turning away.) Sofirst his horse, and then his royal wife! HAGENULPE (slowly approaching the hut.) Here is thy Hagenulph, my gentle love. WINDRUDA. it is not he. MAGENULPE (embracing her.) What! Knowest thou not his kiss? WINDRUDA (disengaging herself.) No, truly no, this is not Hagenulph, The knightly, and the courteous, and the gentle, Who wooed Windruda in such noble fashion From her sires castle in the Weser-vale. To Ilagenulph his wife was all the world And now, he heeds his horse before his wife! Oh! thine ennobling love hath made this forest A palace in mine eyesmyself a queen: Robbed of that spell, Im but a hapless woman, Driven forth by foes into a wilderness. IIAGENULPH. Not so; thou rt still a queen of Natures making, Royal and haughty. WINDRUDA. Go, serve thy darling Lightfoot with his food; CLXIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XIV. 3 HAGENULPH. What, angry with my horse2 Rememberest thou, When the Franks chased us with resistless force, How, like a noble hart, he sought the woods, And bare thee, covered with my shield, before me, Softly, yet with the swiftness of the storm, Nor paused till thou wert safe? Then didst thou stroke His silver mane with thy caressing hands Now, must he shiver in the autumn night? Thou art a lofty dame, a princes child; T was neer the manner yet with noble princes So to reward the loyalty of friends. WINDRUDA (caressingly approaching him.) Hero of mighty heart, thou speakest well. Is the stall finished for thy trusty steed? Ay, ay; twill do. HAGENULPH. WINDRUDA. Nay, prithee, my beloved, Go and complete his shelter for the night. HAGENULPH (kissing her.) My princely-hearted wife! [Exit Hagenulph by the side at which he entered. Windruda, signing to him affectionately with her hand, re~nters the hut. CHARLEMAGNE (enters on horseback from the forest.) Ye heavens! how deep and dusky is the forest, As though therein a mounted knight might ride A thousand years, and find no boundary! Lu! these audacious birds of prey, that wheel With grim and ghastly shrieks around my head! Hark to the growling of the wrathful hear, And the wolfs hungry yell! My way is lost; Night rises like a vapor from the earth; I see no happy end to this adventure. Oh, for the shelter of a peasants roof! WINDRUDA (in the doorway.) Who rides so tall beneath our woodland shadest CHARLEMAGNE. A gentle greeting to thee, noble lady, From a benighted huntsman! WINDRUDA (coming forward.) TII.3u art welcome. Dismount and rest. CHARLEMAGNE (dismounting, and approachiHg Aeir.4 Come I to Christian men? WINDRUDA. No; to the bravest and most nospitable Of heathen warriors. Rest thee in his castle! CHARLEMAGNE. A castle in these mountain woods? WINDRUDA (pointing to the hut.) Tis there.. The castle of great Hagenulph. CHARLEMAGNE (smiling.) Thcre, sayest thou? Oh, pardon! I mistook it for a hut. WINDRUDA. How? In the doorway stands a noble dame; Within, a hero dwells. Are lime and marble, Ivory and brass, the honor of a house? The whole wide forest with its leafy halls Is as a palace since my lord dwelt there.. A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. A NIGHT IN THE FOEEST. CHARLEMAGNE (towing.) Forgive me, honored lady! I have erred. Your castle is no theme for mockery. HAGENULPE (entering, carrying game on his shoulder.) Look on my trophies of to-day, sweet wife. [He begins to hang up the game on the walls of the hut. WINDRUDA. Here stands a noble guest, my knightly husband! HAGENULPE (desisting from his labor, and approach- ing Charlemagne.) Welcome, sir knight. I crave your fair construction Of this my tardy greeting. I am now So poorly furnished with esquires and serfs, That I myself am seneschal and huntsman, Cupbearer, chamberlain, ay, even groom. Therefore my noble wife must entertain you, Whilst I lead forth your charger to his stall, Soon to return and crown for you the bowl. CHARLEMAGNE. Nay, nay, my valiant host! my steed hath here A supper, and a couch of down. HAGENULPE. But wolves Are howling in the distance; therefore yield. T would fix eternal shame upon my,house, If guest of mine, in horse, or goods, or limb, Were harmed by my neglect. [Erit, leading Oharlemagnes horse. WINDRUDA. Now to the hearth Follow me, noble guest; the vessel steams, And bright the goblets shine. (They enter the hut.) Nay, by your leave, Shut not the door; Sir Hagenulph delights Thus to gaze forth upon the woods green aisles, And on the star-sown canopy of heaven. CHARLEMAGNE. The custom of this noble house I love. WINDRUDA (taking his bow and quiver, and hang- ing them against the wall.) Hero! permit thy hunters panoply Thus to be loosened by a ladys hand. HAGENULPH (returning and tastincr a goblet & fore b he hands it, as cupbearer.) My honored guest, I bid thee freely welcome! All that the house of Hagenulph affords Is thine. Come, seat thee at our cheerful board. [They seat themselves around a stone table; Charlemagne in the middle, Hagenuiph and Windruda on eith side of him. Thou art silent, noble sir. Doth aught displease thee~ cHARLEMAGNE. Nay, God forbid! But this I freely own, I feel like one who wanders in a dream; A noble hero and a lovely lady In the wild forest! Courtesy and grace Under a poor huts mossy covering! Why, one might deem it glamours mocking work, And look to see a momentary change The forest, to a barons lofty towers, The dark cell, to a golden hall of pomp, The shrieking owls and bats, to maids and squires! HAGENULPH (smiling.) Nay, honored guest, expect not such conclusion; These weeds conceal no crafty necromancer. Once, truly, once it was as thou hast said: But now !Those castle-halls Lie desolate beside the Weser-stream, And sailors sigh when they behold their ruins. CHARLEMAGNE. Whose wasting hand destroyed such goodly hallst EAGENULPE. Thou art, my guest, by speech and garb a Frank, And canst thyself best answer such a question. CHARLEMAGNE. Ah, ah, thou brave defying race of Saxons! God knows, this desolation was thy work: Charles did lament it from his very heart. WINDRUDA. Such, and so gentle is the heart of Charles2 His followers are not like him. CHARLEMAGNE. What is this! What mean the sparkling drops that dim thine eyes, And the quick blush that burns upon thy cheek In Gods name, gentle hostess, tell me truth; Hast thou been injured by a Frank, beyond The injuries that war compels and sanctions WINDRUDA. Oh, sir! pure wine we tender to a guest, Not bitter gall. I pray you, pardon me That heedless word which hath escaped my lip; Let me be silent of the dreadful deed. CHARLEMAGNE. If I may seek a hospitable gift, I ask but for this story. WINDRUDA. Listen, then A boon, so askd, must never be withholden. Upon the streams edge lay my gallant brother, Wounded and faint; his arm had rescued me, And on the farther bank I stood in safety. There cameeven now before mine eyes I see That dark and bloody shape !there came a knight, A Frankish warrior, pricking through the forest, And at his heels a swarm of armed serfs. Out-numbered thus, and faint, my wounded brother Stretched feebly forth his naked sword, and said, Comrade, I yield me thy true prisoner.~~ Then laughed the Frank, Cried, Out with this base people, root and branch! Then, scoffing thus, his squires and he did pierce With their sharp spears that young and gallant heart! In vain did I, (ah, wretched maiden!) call For aid to men and gods! The Frank but laughed more scornfully, and cried, Fair maid, I come to kiss thy tears away. Ihen, rushing, came my Hagenulph, and swung His trusty javelin ; to the forest depths The recreant craven fled. HAGENULPH. Reproach not me, My noble guest, that still the dastard lives. First, was I bound to save my gentle love, And he meanwhile escaped me. Unavenged Beside the wood-stream sleeps my gallant brother. CHARLEMAGNE. Thus shall he sleep no more, so help me God! If in the Frankish host I find that villain, Into thy hands will I deliver him; Thou, noble dame, shalt be thine own avenger. 34 A NIGHT IN THE FOREST. WINDRUDA. Sir, do as thou hast promised. CHARLEMAGNE. Doubt me not! As thy true knight will I achieve this deed. Ere I depart, thy words shall paint to me The aspect of the knave, his steed, his arms, That so my vengeance may take certain aim. But first, kind friends, I pray you answer me, What is the fire which kindles hearts so true So to oppose the high and holy teaching Of the eternal God, who, out of love To sinful men, became a helpless child Who, faithful Shepherd, sought His wandering flocks, Recalling, teaching, and exhorting them, Till, out of love, He died a bitter death; Then, Conqueror of wrath and sin, arose; And shall return in light to judge the world, Receiving to eternal bliss the good, Where, changeless, in a world of changeless bright- ness, Their souls shall join the everlasting psalm! HAGENULPH. To speak the simple truth, not much I know, Nor much have heard, of this thy Christian doctrine. For once there came a shaveling to my castle, In a priests garbright well I welcomed him; But he began with his blaspheming words To mock toy fathers gods, and thus I thought: The spirits of the mighty in Valhalla have favored thee in love, and blest in war; And when thou goest forth into their woods, Thy strong heart swells with thankfulness within thee; Shalt thou endure to hear them scorned Away, The priests a sorry knave ! I took the priest, And hurled him from my door. The blame was his, Yet was my wrath a shade too vehement He fell, and broke his neck! and feud and war Broke forth upon our desolated land. lIre words which thou hast spoken please me well, Arid may he true, for I have early heard A story from the ancient days of Odin, Of a Gods Son who died for love to.man; Of fire sent down to purify the earth; And of eternal glory, after judgment. wINDRUDA. Speak ye of that God-Man whose name was Christ CHARLEMAGNE. Ay, of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ. WINDRUDA. My heart is glad to hear thee speak of Him; I pray thee tell me somewhat of His teaching. CHARLEMAGNE. This was His first great law: to love mankind, And to do all men goodeven to our foes. WINDRUDA. True, if they sit as guests beside our hearth. HAGENULPH. Most true, if they be weaponless or sick; And true, perchance, if they be stainless women. CHARLEMAGNE. No, no, God asks an undivided heart; Thou canst not be a Christian on conditions! We must love all at once, and all together, For all are children of one Father. WINDRUDA. Nay, That burden were too heavy for our hearts. CHARLEMAGNE. T is like that wondrous mountain in the East; At first the climber labors with slow steps, But walks more lightly as he rises higher, And at the summit treads as if on wings. WINDRUDA. Thine eyes have kindled like the morning! HAGENULPH. Ha! At such a moment meet we interruption? Hark! In the wood a sound of armed men! Rest in my hut, most dear and honored guest, Whilst I look forth. CHARLEMAGNE. Nay, sir; if there be danger, I must not see thee challenge it alone. HAGENULPH. Danger to thee, perchance, though none to me; The woods are full of stern and hunted Saxons. Remain, my lord ;persuade him, noble wife. WINDRUDA. Remain within, as thou art sworn my knight! [Hagenulph issues from the hut, his sword in his hand, and closes the door behind him. Many armed Saxons come from the wood. TIAGENULPH. Whither so fast, my countrymen? A SAXON. To thee! I seek the traces of a Christian knight, Who roves bewildered through these savage woods; Methinks even now he sits beside thy hearth. And if it be so? HAGENULPH. SAXON. Why, if it he so, The avenging Gods demand their sacrifice; The great uncounted army of the dead, Slain by the hands of these accors~d Franks, Cry for their prey, and vengeance! Out with him! IIAGENULPH. I think thou knowst he sits beside roy hearth? SAXON. Ay, by roy faith; t is therefore we are here. IIAGENULPH. Then let me see the man who (hares to harm him Beneath the guardian shadow of my r f. SAXON. Thou mighty Saxon warrior, Ilagenulph, Wilt thou protect the scourge of Saxony? HAGENULPII. He sits beside my hearth; and so, good night. [Going. ANOTHER SAXON. Yet one word more! HAGENULPH (returning.) True; thou remindest me! Make not such rude disturbance in the woods, Breaking my thread of converse with my guest. 35 .36 A NiGHT IN THE FOREST. SAXON. Thy guest! Thou dreai-nst not whom thine arm protects! HAGENIJLPH. My dream, perchance, is truer than thy knowledge. SAXON. It is a knight of name among the Franks. HAGENULPH. It may be so, or it may not be so; Speak plainly, if thou best a Saxon. SAXON. Well, I do believe it is the king himself. IIAGENULPH. Through this whole evening I have thought same; Therefore depart in silence. T is for me Fitly to entertain him. SAXON. With thy sword! Therein we swear thee true companionship. the HAGENULPH. Ay, my good two-edged sword. I have it here Ready for all who break the holy laws Of hospitality. Of such a crime This king is guiltless; food, and drink, and couch, Shall therefore he his fitting entertainment, Not cutting steel. Good night! I pray you go! MANY SAXONS. No, no, my lord! We cannot suffer this. Give up the tyrant! T is the question here, If Saxony shall stand or fall forever. Give up the king! Our wrath ~vill have its victim. HAGENULPH. If Saxony must stand by deeds of shame, T were better that she fell. Good night, my friends; For the third time and last, I say it to ye. Good things are threefold, therefore now depart, Unless your minds be set to seek for evil. SAXONS. Why, let it come, then! Failing gentle means, We must use force. We are the strongest, friends; Break down the door, I say ha, break it down [They approach furiously to assail the hut. HAGENULPH. What bath bewitched you, ye unthinking men? See now, this is the sword of Hagenulph. [They fight. CHARLEMAGNE (rushes out with his sword drawn.) The clang of arms! Stand fast, my noble host, Tis easy work to drive this rabble hence. [The Saxons are put tojli;ht. HAGENULPH. Softly, my lord! Pursue not, through the darkness, Amid the forests shadowy battlements; A. true knights sword strikes ever best in freedom. CHARLEMAGNE. Thou rt in the right. Moreover, our pursuit Would leave thy gentle wife unguarded. [They stand opposite to each other, leaning on their swords, and looking into each at hers faces. Enter WINDRUOAfrom the hut. WINDRUDA. Here I see two valiant comrades, fresh from battle, Warm from the eager chase of flying foes ; Brethren in arms, my heart would gladly hail them. Not so, my love. HAGENULPH. CHARLEMAGNE. And, comrade, wherefore nott HAGENULPH. T is true I am an honorable knight, And, as thyself hast witnessed, and canst say, The sword of Hagenulph is somewhat sharp; But yet thou standest far too high for me. WINDRUDA. Stands any man too high for Hagenuiph? That must be an illustrious master truly. HAGENULPH. Methinks that such an one stands now before us. CHARLEMAGNE. What, think~st thou so, my hero? Tell me, straight, Whom takst thou me to be? HAGENULPH. I do believe thou art the mighty fountain Of Frankish victory and Saxon shame; And that men call thee Emperor Charlemagne. WINDRUDA. This Charlemagne! Is such his countenance? Ay, ay, I can believe it; I have pictured A hero of such aspect in my fancy. CHARLEMAGNE. And didst thou know, most true and loyal host, How rich a prey thy fortress-hut contained, Yet paused thy hand to slay? HAGENULPII. I greatly marvel At such a question. Wert thou not my guest? But could I meet thee on the battle-field Close hand to hand; where I, as yet, have seen thee Only a horseman in the distance; then We were acquainted in another fashion! CHARLEMAGNE. Why so think I. In thee, as in myself, My faith is strong. But this I say to thee, My Hagenulph, I stand too high for thee And thine aspiringnot because I am King of the Franksbut thus, because I am A Christian, and the servant of the Lord. WINDRUDA. If that be all, meseems ye still may be Brethren in arms. HAGENULPH. Ho~v so, my gentle wife? WINDRUDA. Why, if by such a fair and gentle path As he hath spoken, Christ would lead us all Into the arms of the eternal Father, How should a faithful heart refuse to follow? HAGENULPH. Thou speakest strange and startling words, my love. wINDRUDA. Oh, if I be thy love, then follow me Where I would lead thy steps. With thee I fled To the rough shelter of the wilderness; THE GRAY FORESTEAGLE. Come thou with me to bright and rosy meadows, To Paradise, the garden of our Christ. Of that, and of full many beauteous things, Our guest instructed me, While thou wert holding converse with the Saxons. HAGENULPH. 1 follow thee. And, noble king, I pray you, Help forward this my gentle love and me To fuller knowledge of the ways of Christ. CHARLEMAGNE. With my whole heart, my brother! [Enter Frank knights, soldiers, and woodmen, all speaking at once. God be thankd! The king! The king! And there, a Saxon knave! Lay hands on him and take him. HAGENULPII. Royal brother, Hearst thou the angry boasting of these men? Methinks we shall have need of our good swords. Go, in, sweet wife, till we have dealt with them. CHARLEMAGNE. It needs not now. Peace there, my soldiers, peace! See, I have hunted down, for Gods dear service, rhis knightly stag and this most tender doe; No prince did ever take a costlier prey. But thou, my gentle hostess, why so pal& There is nought now to fear. wINaRUDA. To fear !Oh, no; The wife of Hagenuiph is not so fearful. CHARLEMAGNE. How 2nay, I guess! The flashing of thine eye Hath burned into mine heart, like lightning. There, Before our faces, stands the murderer! wINDRUDA. What murderer meanest thou, my noble lord CHARLEMAGNE. Him who did slay thy brother by the stream. WINDRIJDA. I cannot lie. T is true, he stands before me. CHARLEMAGNE. That churl with matted locks WINDRUDA. The same, my lord; He with the glaring eyes and bushy brows. CHARLEMAGNE. Draco, come forth! Knowst thou this noble lady? See, his cheek whitens with the sense of guilt! lie is condemned. Disarm him, lead him hence, And knit him to the nearest willow-tree; No more shall he behold the golden sun. Yet hold! Windruda, fair avenger, I did promise To give the guilty wretch into thy hands. Lo, there he stands! judge thou, and take thy ven- geance. WINDRUDA. Sir, sir, thou ladest me with bounteous gifts; [She stands silent awhile. Yet are they heavy in these feeble hands. Thanks, noble sire! The criminal is pardoned. CHARLEMAGNE. Pardoned! I heard not rightly. wINDRUDA. Yes, my lord. Didst thou not tell me thus i Much Christ hath taught, But his first law was love to all mankind, And free forgiveness of our enemies. Fain am I to ascend that wondrous mountain, Upon the top of which smiles Paradise. True, the first step is somewhat difficult, Yet feel I, as my spirit stirs within me, The path grows smoother as it rises higher. CHARLEMAGNE. Ah, thou choice flower, in Gods own garden planted! Sweetly and richly shalt thou bloom henceforth Beside the waters of the land of Aix. Draco, be free, but fly the path of Charles; Whereer we meet thy life shall pay the forfeit, Because it is my place to judge my people. Follow me now; morn sparkles brightly oer us; Dear friends, t will now be mine to play the host. HAGENULPH. There stands your horse, my noble lord. And here My faithful Lightfoot, my good battle-steed. Who, were he driven from his masters side, Would die of grief. I pray you tell me this Is it forbidden by the laws of Christ To tend such noble creatures, and to love them! CHARLEMAGNE. Nay, Christ was love itself, which, as a fountain Pure and unsullied, waters all things living. HAGRNULPH. Right earnestly I long to be a Christian. CHARLEMAGNE. Yes, friend, in thine and in Windrudas heart Gods hand hath showered his seed abundantly: Scarce hath heavens door sent forth its quickening rain, When, lo! the harvest brightens on the plain. Come, follow me, my children! [Exeunt omnes. THE GRAY FOREST-EAGLE. WITH storm-daring pinion and sun-gazing eye, The gray forest-eagle is king of the sky! Oh, little he loves the green valley of flowers, Where sunshine and song cheer the bright summer hours, For he hears in those haunts only music, and sees Only rippling of waters and waving of trees; Where the red-robin warbles, the honey-bee hums, The timid quail whistles, the sly partridge drums; And if those proud pinions, perchance, sweep along, There s a shrouding of plumage, a hushing of song; The sun-light falls stilly on leaf and on moss, And there s naught but his shadow, black, gliding across; But the dark, gloomy gorge, where down plunges the foam Of the fierce, rock-lashed torrent, he claims as his home. There he blends his hoarse shriek with the roar of the flood, And the many-voiced sounds of the blast-smitten wood; From his crag-grasping fir-top, where morn hangs its wreath, He views the mad waters, white, writhing beneath. 37 THE GRAY FORESTEAGLE. On a limb of that moss-bearded hemlock, far down, With bright azure mantle and gay mottled crown, The king-fisher watches, where oer him his foe, rue fierce hawk, sails, circling, each moment more low: Now poised are those pinions and pointed that beak; His dread swoop is rcady, when, hark! with a shriek, His eyeballs red-blazing, high-bristling his crest, His snake-like neck archd, talons drawn to his breast, With the rush of the wind-gust, the glancing of light, The gray forest-eagle shoots down in his flight; One blow of those talons, one plunge of that neck, The strong hawk hangs lifeless, a blood-dripping wreck; And as dives the free king-fisher, dart-like on high, With his prey soars the eagle, and melts in the sky. A fitful red-glaring, a low, rumbling jar, Proclaim the storm demon, yet raging afar The black cloud strides upward, the lightning more red, The roll of the thunder more deep and more dread; A thick pall of darkness is cast oer the air, And on bounds the blast, with a howl, from its lair; The lightning darts zig-zag and forkd through the gloom, And the bolt launches oer with crash, rattle, and boom; The gray forest-eagle, where, where was he sped Does he shrink to his eyrie, and shiver with dread Does the glare blind his eye Has the terrible blast On the wing of the sky-king a fear-fetter cast No, no, the brave eagle! lie thinks not of fright; The ~vrath of the tempest but rouses delight; To the flash of the lightning his eye casts a gleam, To the shriek of the wild blast he echoes his scream, And with front like a warrior that speeds to the prey, And a clapping of pinions, he s up and away! Away, 0 away, soars the fearless and free! What recks he the skys strife? its monarch is lie! The lightning darts round him, undaunted his sight; The blast sweeps against him, un~vaverd his flight; High upward, still upward, he wheels till his form Is lost in the black, scowling gloom of the storm. The tempest sweeps oer with its terrible train, And the splendor of sunshine is glowing again; Again smiles the soft, tender blue of the sky, Waked bird-voices warble, fannd leaf-voices sigh; On the green-grass dance shadows, streams sparkle and run, The breeze bears the odor, its flower-kiss his own, And full on the form of the demon in flight The rainbows magnificence gladdens the sight! The gray forest-eagle! 0, where is he now, While the sky wears the sign of its God on its brow? There s a dark, floating spot by yon clouds pearly wreath, With the speed of the arrow t is shooting beneath! Down nearer and nearer it draws to the gaze; Now over the rainbow, now blent with its blaze, To a shape it expands, still it plunges through air, A proud crest, a fierce eye, a broad wing, are there; T is the eaglethe gray forest-eagleonce more He sweeps to his eyrie: his journey is oer1 Time whirls round his circle, his years roll away, But the gray forest-eagle minds little his sway; The child spurns its bud for youths thorn-hidden bloom, Seeks manhoods bright phantoms, finds age and a tomb; But the eagles eye dims not, his wing is unbowd, Still drinks he the sun-shine, still scales he the cloud. The green, tiny pine-shrub points up from the moss, The wrens foot would cover it, tripping across: The beech-nut down dropping would crush it be- neath; But t is warmd with heavens sunshine, and fannd by its breath, The seasons fly past it, its head is on high, Its thick branches challenge each mood of the sky; On its rough bark the moss a green mantle creates; And the deer from its antlers the velvet-down grates; Time withers its roots, it lifts sadly in air A trunk dry and wasted, a top jaggd and bare, Till it rocks in soft breeze and crashes to earth; Its blown fragments strewing the place of its birth. The eagle has seen it up-struggling to sight, He has seen it defying the storm in its might; Then prostrate, soil-blended, with plants sprouting oer, But the gray forest-eagle is still as of yore, His flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbowd, Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud; He has seen from his cyrie the forest below, In bud and in leaf, robed with crimson and snow. The thickets deep wolf-lairs, the high crag his throne, And the shriek of the panther has answered his own. He has seen the wild red man the lord of the shades. And the smoke of his wigwams curl thick in the glades; He has seen the proud forest melt breath-like away. And the breast of the earth lying bare to the day; He sees the green meadow-grass hiding the lair, And his crag-throne spread naked to sun and to nir; And his shriek is now answered, while sweeping along, By the low of the herd, and the husbaudmans song; He has seen the wild red man offswept by his foes, And he sees dome and roof where those smokes once arose; But his flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbowd, Still drinks he the sunshdne, still scales he the cloud. A. B. STREET. Oca friendships hurry to short and poor conclu- sions, because we have made them a texture of wine and dreams, instead of the tough fibre of the human heart. The laws of friendship are great, austere. and eternal, of one web with the laws of morals and of natureGoethe. CHIVALRY is to modern what the heroic was to ancient times; a~l the noble recollections of the na- tions of Europe are attached to it. An all the great periods of history, men have embraced some sort of enthusiastic sentiment, as a universal principle of action. Chivalry consisted in the defence of the weak; in the loyalty of valor; in the contempt of deceit; in that Christian charity which endeavored to introduce humanity even in war; in short, in all those sentiments which substitute the reverence of honor for the ferocious spirit of armsMadame d~ Sta~l. 38 THE BRITISH PRESS AND THE MEXICAN \VAR. From the N. Y. Journal of Commerce. THE BRITISH PRESS AND THE MEXICAN WAR. WE have been instructed, as well as amused, by the comments of the British press, from time to time, on the Mexican war, and topics immediately connected with it. When the war was only pro- bable, or supposed to be so by the British press, they deprecated it as threatening more or less inter- ruption to neutral commerce, and as liable to be protracted, on account of the mutual inefficiency, poverty, & c., of the contending parties. A leading periodical of Englandwe think it was the London Times, but are not quite certaindeclared in so many words, that the Mexicans were better soldiers than the Americans, and seemed to anticipate that the latter would get a severe drubbing. This delu- sion was encouraged by the results of two or three skirmishes which took place between scouting parties of the Americans and large bodies of the Mexicans on the east side of the Rio Grande, at the commencement of the war, or just anterior to it and by the intelligence that Gen. Taylors little army of 2200 men was surrounded by a Mexican force three times as large, and with no chance of escape. Great was the chuckling of John Bull at this intelligence, and great was the mortification of Americans, both at home and abroad. By the way, what stronger evidence could exist of the pacific intentions of the American government up to the above date, than the fact that it had not made the least preparation for xvar, and that Taylors force was wholly unsupported. Not a volunteer had been called for, and the regular force of the nation had been suffered to dwindle to 7000 men, scattered, more or less, over our vast domain. The Mexicans knew all this, and calculated that, by a sudden dash, they could capture or destroy General Taylor, and then overrun Texas; and this was too inviting a bait to be resisted. In the anticipation that this program, or something like it, would be carried into execution, the London Times put forth an article of ~vhich the following is an extract: IFrom the Times. Jooe ism.i The tumultuous excitement occasioned through- out the IJnited States by the announcement that a small Mexican army had been collected at Matamo- ras, and that 2,000 men had crossed the Rio Grande, and placed themselves between Gen. Taylors camp and his supplies at Point Isabel, is certainly dispro- portionate to the actual magnitude of the event; and it presents a strange commentary on the aggressive policy and the warlike measures which have been gaining ground in the United States for the last few years. Nothing can be more ridiculous than the contrast between the zeal of the Americans in pro- yoking a ~var, and their real state of preparation fnr it; and a defeat will prohably be sustained by the American forces, worsted by troops whom they have affected to despise, before the people of the United States have learned that bluster does not ~vin battles, though it may begin brawls. The next steamer carried out intelligence of the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, and their brilliant results. On this occasion the Times did itself the honor to be just, if not generous. [From the Times ofJone 15.] The arrival of the Britannia with the American mails of the 1st instant has put us in possession of decisive intelligence from the theatre of ~var on the Rio Grande. In spite of a numerical superiority amounting to threefold the American force under General Taylor, the Mexican troops on the left bank of the river have been totally routed; and an opportunity, which is not likely to recur, of inflict- ing a summary blow upon the enemy in a position of great difficulty, has ended, on the contrary, in a signal triumph of General Taylors little corps, and a shameful repulse of the Mexican forces. * * * * Both these engagements were sharply disputed; but General Taylors forces displayed an incontestable superiority, under very disadvantageous circumstances, which deserved to be rewarded by success. The despatches of that officer, which will be found in another place, are remarkable for their succinct energy, and the absence of those verbose and grandiloquent strains which we are accustomed to meet with in the narratives of American exploits. Gen. Taylor writes like a man of sense, skill and courage; and we have not the slightest wish to detract from the honors he has gallantly earned under the flag of his country. Whatever opinion we may entertain of the causes of this~war, arid of the political motives in which it originated, the behavior of the American general and his troops deserves to be judged of by a much higher standard than the policy of the government which it is their duty to serve. The conduct of the Mexican army, on the con- trary, demonstrates the utter inability of that gov- ernment to protect any portion of its dominions from invasion; and it degrades the descendants of the Spanish Americans still lower in the rank of nations. In the course of the next three months, while Gen. Taylor was collecting the necessary means for advancing into the interior, the Times relapsed into its accustomed ribaldry, of which the following is a specimen: [From the London Times of September 16.1 A squabble, however contemptible, which im- pedes the progress of trade on the part of neutrals, and renders private property liable to those dangers that are inseparable from a state of domestic anar- chysuch a contention between two litigates who seem both unable to bring the quarrel to an end, is a nuisance which a third party should be allowed to terminate. Friendly offers of mediation have al- ready been made by our late as well as our present minister for foreign affairs; but the United States and Mexico seem disposed to fight it out a process which threatens 1.0 prove exceedingly tedious. On one side we find large resources in- judiciously applied, and on the other internal discord dividing the force that needs t.he utmost concentra- tion to give it the smallest chance of proving suc- cessful. We can scarcely hope for the triumph of the Mexican cause, after the specimens we have seen of the incapacity of the Mexican people to pro- vide efficiently for their own government. Next came the news of the capture of Monterey, with its immense fortifications, and garrison of 10,- 000 or 11,000 men, by a force of 6000 men under Gen. Taylor. Concerning this little affair the Times says, Nov. 20th At Monterey the Mexicans have recently shown that they can fight with the ancient bravery of their Spanish progenitors behind walled fortifica- tions; and, although the town was ultimately taken, the capture cost the Americans more than the loss of it did the Mexicans. In consequence of the refusal of the American cabinet to ratify General Taylors armistice, we shall probably shortly hear of a similar attack upon Saltillo, the result of which depends very much on the combinations by which 39 THE BRITISH PRESS AND THE MEXICAN WAR. the respective forces may be concentrated on that point. Santa Anna will not be able to bring his army up in time to defend the position; but it is not impossible that he may precede the main body of his troops, and that the resistance of the place may be prolonged till he arrives. At any rate, even the loss of Saltillo will not prove a decisive blow to Mexico, for it is more than 600 miles from the capital; whereas the failure of General Taylors at- tempt upon it would compromise to the last degree the safety of his army and the credit of his arms. In a military point of view it was a mistake to weaken the small American force by allowing detachments to march off to California and Santa Fe, where there was no enemy whatever to encounter. The good sense of this last remark English readers will understand from the fact that the troops sent to occupy Santa Fe and California had not, at the date of the Times article, approached nearer to Saltillo, or to General Taylor, than 600 or 700 miles. They were under a different general, (Kearney,) and their mission was entirely different. They entered the Mexican territory from the north, while General Taylors division entered it from the south-east, by way of the Rio Grande. In the same article the Times says: We told them [the Ameiicans] many months ago, that they would find themselves at the close of the year scarcely more advanced in the conquest or coercion of Mexico than they were in April; we pointed out the impossibility of making any rapid military movement in advance in a country destitute of roads and of water, whilst fever and dysentery were more certain to thin the ranks of the army than the assaults of the enemy; in short, we fore- saw all the evils of an exhausted treasury, and of a war which cannot be carried on with such means as the United States possess, or abandoned without disrrrace. In another article of about the same date, the Times says The Americans, who have to conduct this most wearisome of wars, are least of all nations compe- tent to the task. They have no army, and have constitutional objections to raising one. They have no money, and are resolutely determined to find none. They have no general, and have just agreed never to have one. Yet with these natural and political disadvantages they have either to con- tinue a war of which nobody can tell the cost or the conclusion, or to confess their folly and their help- lessness by a ridiculous retreat. The battle of Sacramento, in which less than 1000 American volunteers, under Col. Doniphan, defeated 4000 Mexicans, killing and wounding several hundred, and capturing ten pieces of artil- lery, came next in the order of time, and was the more surprising as the Americans had only two killed and four or five wounded. The capture of the large town of Chihuahua, (capital of the state of the same name,) followed as a matter of course. This engagement has been scarcely mentioned in the English papers. We pass on to the battle of Buena Vista, 22nd and 23rd of March, some particulars of which, though not in all respects correct, reached England about the middle of May. The Times of the 20th contains an article on the subject, of which the following is an extract: He [Taylor] fought very well, there is no doubt; but we suspect that Saltillo will not prove an Assaye. Either tempted by some feints of Taylor, or in execution of his own designs, Santa Anna fell upon him, and evidently in a pretty good posi- tion. From this, if Taylor was not dislodged, he at all events thought it prudent to retire; and the first attack of Santa Anna seems to have convinced him that the Mexicans were not going to fall into his hands, and that he had better secure the chances of war by retreating leisurely on his own head- quarters. The Mexicans, though roughly handled by the old warrior, fbllowed him up for a couple of days, during which the engagements in question took place, but where the armies parted is not very clear. * * * * * * * The moral, however, of.the whole story is this peace is further off, and the Americans worse off, than ever. It is probable that Taylor retained the honors of every field, though his little army of some 5000 or 6000 men was at least trebled by that of Santa Anna. But the Mexicans have done enough to damage the American prestige~ and encourage their own people. They took the aggressive, they attacked the enemy in one position after another, arid they forced him to a kind of retreat. They fought with unusual spirit, charging him up to the very muzzles of his guns, and took a quantity of bag- gage, besides even a few pieces of cannon and some colors. The relative magnitude of their losses is utterly unimportant. Their levies are as cheap as those of Tlascala, while every man and horse that goes down on the other side costs Taylor almost as much as it cost Cortes. Already we see the effects of Santa Annas movement. He has left the gulf squadron with the bulk of the American army to amuse themselves with a grand representation of the Mogador l3altue, while in the mean time he has destroyed some 2000 of their best troops, and sur- rounded one of their best generals. Even if Taylor be actually in Monterey, it is admitted on all hands that his communications are entirely cut off, even with Matamoras and Camargo. The whole coun- try is swarming with light horsemen and ranclzeros, to whom he can hardly oppose a single dragoon, while every post on the line of the Grande is ex- pecting an attack from forces utterly disproportioned to their means of defence. To improve this condi- tion of affairs, it is known that there is no cordial concert between Scott and Taylor, nor between the supreme authority and either of them, and perhaps a new general or major general may presently make his appearance, to find that the favorite line of the Grande has been lost and the captured provinces sacrificed for the sake of winning a city which, by the best American authorities, will be utterly use- less when won. The next steamer carried out the official des- patches relating to the battle, which the Times published at length; but not another word of com- rnent have we been able to find in its columns relat- ing to that memorable engagementfought by 5000 Americans, of whom only 600 were regulars, against 20,000 Mexicans, commanded by Santa Anna in person, and constituting, as he has since stated in a published document, the largest, best, and best appointed army ever seen in Mexico since the days of the revolution. Of this brilliant army, more than 2500 were killed or wounded, 150 or so were taken prisoners, some thousands were dis- persed, great numbers died of exposure and starva- tion in the retreat; and, in short, there is reason to believe that scarcely half of the whole number who left Potosi for the annihilation of General Taylor and his little band of Spartans, ever returned. It was in fact an utter discomfiture. The pres- tige of it, to use the rfimes~ expression, still en- 40 ~tHE BRITISH PRESS AND THE MEXICAN WAR. 41. dures. It has nerved the American arm in every subsequent engagement, and palsied that of the Mexican. The battle of Buena Vista was not only the most bloody engagement ever fought on this continent, (unless we except the wholesale massa- cres of defenceless Indians by the ancestors of these same Mexicans,) but as a military achievement it was the most brilliant. It however appears to have excited no admiration in England, if we may judge from the tone of the pressthe only feeling is con- tempt for the Mexicans; who nevertheless fought till they had been decimated twice over, before they retired from the field. Contempt for the Mexicans is a more conrrenial feeling to a certain class of Brit- ish minds, (and we are sorry they are so numerous,) than respect for their own kith and kin on this side of the Atlantic, especially volunteers. The next important event in the history of the war, was the capture of Vera Crux. The existence of this fortress within reach of our navy, unscathed and unattempted, had been some consolation to our English friends, because it seemed to show, (revers- ing the language of the lamented Sam Patch,) that some things could not be done as well as others. In a state of neglect and almost dilapidation, with an imperfect armament and insufficient garrison, this fortress had succumbed to the French, and therefore, by omitting to notice the difference of circumstances, the floating of the Mexican flag upon its walls was deemed and taken as a virtual ad- mission that what the French had done, Americans could not do. Well, it was determined at length, by the American government, that Vera Cruz must fall. A great sacrifice of life was expected, but the possession of that town and fortress was deemed indispensable, as a new base of operations i~i the interior. The execetion of the project was entrusted to Gen. Scott. As long ago as July 6th, 1846, the Times gave a hint as to the hopelessness of the attack, in the words following: It remains to be seen whether he (Commodore Conner) will venture to attack St. Juan dUlloa, which is at all times an operation of great difficulty and danger, from the sudden northern gales which expose a squadron to destruction on the reefs that protect the fortifications to the seaward. St. Juan dUlloa, moreover, now mounts 200 guns in the castle, and 50 in the two forts and walls of the city commanding the anchorage. All these guns are new and of heavy calibre, with a number of 8 inch and 10 inch Paixhan guns. There are said to be 2000 men in the fortress, and about the same number in the town. Under these circumstances we doubt whether the American commodore will risk an at- tack on the strongest place on the Mexican coast. [Upwards of 400 cannon xvere captured in the town and castleEds. J. of C.] Even after it was known that the town had been invested, the Times regaled its readers with antici- pations of a failure; as in the following letter, dated Vera Cruz, March 12th. The American forces now number ten thousand men before Vera Crux. They have cut off all com- munication, but, in consequence of some gross mis- take in the department of the quartermaster, they are totally without shelter, being unprovided with tents; consequently they have to remain on the scorching sand-hills the whole of the day, and are saturated with deadly heavy dews all night, which at this period are most fatal. They made another most disheartening discovery last night only, name- ly, that the whole, or nearly the whole, of their ar- tillery train has been left behind, (at Matamoras.) It may fairly be presumed that, under these circum- stances, it will be some time before the Americans can make prixe of this place, if at all; and they must suffer fearful loss in the attempt. Some skir- mishing has already taken place ashore between the ranchero cavalry and the American outposts, with the result of a loss to the latter of a colonel and eight men of the Tennessee volunteers. The Mex- icans only had a very few wounded, and those only slightly, scarcely anything to mention. The troops landed on the 9th and 10th of March, and the first division (about 2000) got all their ammunition satu- rated in the surge, and remained four hours without a cartridge; fortunately for them, the enemy did not make any descent upon them, or awful would have been the carnage among the troops of Jona- than. The Mexicans have about 2500 infantry and 600 cavalry in town, and 2000 well armed and trained patriots in the castle. A stiff norther is now blowing, which will commit sad discomfort and annoyance among the Yankees in the sand-hills by the drift. To a looker on, these features present ~ most engaging and deeply interesting aspect. The issue remains to be seen; but to us there appears no apprehension, on the part of the Mexicans, of defeat. At present the advantage is incontestably on their side, but the struggle will be a frightful one whenever it comes. Everything was done wrong by the Americans, or not done at all. The Mexicans were getting on gloriously, with a bright prospect of driving the Yankees into the sea. Well, the next arrival brought intelligence that both the town and castle had surrendered, with their immense armaments and military stores, and 4000 prisoners, including five generals. This was too bad entirely. That a set of tarnal Yankees should capture the strongest fortress in the New World, except perhaps that at Quebec, with the loss of only sixty-five men killed and wounded, was not to be endured for a moment. Why John himself could hardly expect to do better. There must be something wrong about it; some bribery, treachery, or villany of some sort. What could it be l And besides; these cowardly Amer- icans, instead of attacking the castle, with its 200 heavy guns, as the Times says, (the actual number was still greater,) were kitten-hearted enough to attack the town first, where only 50 cannon were mounted in the two forts and walls, according to the same paper; and moreover, instead of taking a po- sition where thousands of muskets could have played upon them through loop-holes in the walls, they kept themselves beyond musket range, and so could only be reached by the 50 heavy cannon above men- tioned. But let the Times speak for itself: LoNnoN, May 10th. The American despatches relate with an air of unconscious simplicity one of the most atrocious and barbarous acts committed in modern times by the forces of a civilixed nation. The mode adopted by General Scott in conducting the siege was characteristic of the fierce and de- structive spirit of a volunteer and unpractised army. No attempt is made to disguise the fact, that the means taken by that officer to force the citadel of St. Juan dUlloa to surrender, was the destruction of the city of Vera Cruz. Nearly 7000 projectiles were thrown into this devoted town during the three days and a half that the bombardment lasted. One half of the buildings are said to be destroyed. In fact, the attack appears to have been exclusively directed on the city, in preference to the castle, for General Scott expressly states, that the heavy pieces of ordftance on which he relied for the reduction of 42 THE BRITISH PRESS AND THE MEXICAN WAR. the principal forts were not landed when the city was invested; and that he was surprised to find that the capitulation of the town and of the citadel was simultaneous. The thing itself is so cxtraordinary, and so contrary to all the usages of modern war, unless under circumstances of peculiar necessity, that we could not have believed it on any lower au- thority then that of the officer in command. As for the castle of St. Juan dUlloa, it is one of those places into which a hostile force would find it diffi- cult to make its way, if there were not a garrison to open the gates of it, and a governor to sign a capitulation. It evidently surrendered to mere in- timidation or corruption, or possibly to the desire of saving the city from total annihilation. The ap- plication of the foreign consuls on the 24th of March for a truce to enable themselves and the subjects of the European powers, together with Mexican wo- men and children, to leave the city, was refused by General Scott. Probably when those gentlemen re- solved to remain at their posts at the commencement of the siege, they did not anticipate that the city was to be the principal mark of the American batteries; or they might have consulted their own safety by retiring to those strong fortifications of the castle, against which the enemys artillery was not di- rected, or on which, at least, it made no serious impression. * * The sanguinary spoliation which incites the armies of the United States, is as degrading to mankind as the poltroonery of their victims, for we cannot call them antagonists; and whilst we should blush to applaud the military triumphs of the United States, we can hardly deign to pity the woful dis- comfiture of an emasculated people. In the Times of the following day, is published a communication in reply to the article of which the above is a part, from a person signing himself A friend to Gen. Scott and an enemy to war. He disposes of the principal charges of the Times very summarily and effectually. We make a brief ex- tract: So far from the destruction of the city being used as a means to compel the castle to surrender, Gen. Scott, in his summons to the governor to surrender the city, distinctly excluded the castle, and even stipulated that in the went of the surren- der of the former, he would solemnly engage that not a gun should be fired upon the castle from the city unless the city was fired upon by the castle. In respect to the second remark, Gen. Scott, so early as the 13th, sent safeguards to ~ll the foreign consuls, to be used in case they remained in the city, but earnestly entreated them, as well as the Mexican women and children, to leave the city; and, although it was completely invested on all sides, the consuls and their families had free inter- course with the ships of their respective nations up to the 23d, and up to that time both they and the Mexican women and children had free permission from Gen. Scott to depart. It does not appear even that he refused the application of the 24th, for he states in his official despatch that the moment he could reply to it, he should state that a truce could only be granted on the application of the governor with a view to surrender, which application imnme- diately after put a stop to further hostilities. Whether courtesy in warfare required General Scott to reduce the stronger place first, and not to summon or attack the weaker, although that weaker was playing upon his army with its 100 guns, and also affording succor to the stronger, I will leave for military men to determine. It should be recollected that a general is re quired to be humane to his own troops as well as to the enemy; that delay would have exposed General Scotts army to the deadly scourge of the vomito; and that he accomplished this arduous and brilliant undertaking with the loss of but twenty-five men. With magnanimous moderation General Scott, from the moment of his arrival until his cannon were landed and in position, an interval of many days, forebore from all partial attacks, to avoid un- necessary waste of life; and, although fired upon daily and nightly by the fort and city, did not return the fire until his means made victory certain, and of which he duly admonished the enemy. General Scott is by no means answerable for the justice of the war; with that he has nothing to do; he is under command, and has to perform the duties of a soldier; but that his character is conspicuous both for gallantry and humanity, hundreds of British officers will testify. Whether firing upon a city, even when strong- ly fortified, be justifiable, it is not my province to determine; but I will just call to your mind the fact that thc first broadside from Lord Exmouths squadron at Algiers destroyed a greater number of unoffending, unarmed people, than the bombard- ment of Vera Cruz. There is another apology that might have been suggested for opening upon the city first, viz., that it lay between the American batteries and the castle. Shells might doubtless have been thrown over the town into the castle, for many were thrown from the castle over the town into the American lines. But as to round shot, how can the Times prove that they were not thrown all the while at the castle l The trouble was, that the town intercepted them! We next copy a paragraph from the London Morning Chronicle, as to the bearing of the capture of Vera Cruz upon ulterior operations. It was written after the event took place, but before it was known in England. [From the Morning Chroeicle.] The puzzle is, to see how much further forward the United States will be, even when they have won Vera Cruz. Their plan is, it is said, to advance upon Mexico itself, by Jalapa and Perote; but, unless we are much mistaken, this hope is about as visionary as that of Napoleon upon Moscow. There is but one thing we know of that is more difficult for the United States army than to get to Mexico, and that would be to get back again to Vera Cruz. The expectation of a successful advance is, how- ever, out of the question. Two gaunt spectres, dis- ease and famine, stand in the passes between Vera Cruz and Mexico, and waive the invaders back. Shortly after inditing this paragraph, the Chron- icle must have heard of the battle of Cerro Gordo, where, in a difficult and dangerous pass, Santa Anna had erected fortifications, and concentrated his forces to oppose the advance of Gen. Scott. The result was that all the Mexican positions were carried or surrendered, all their cannon taken, and 3000 prisoners, including several generalstheir loss in killed and wounded being about 1000, while ours was near 450. Next its ears were or will be greeted with news of the capture of Jalapa, capital of the state of Vera Cruzthen the strong fortress of Perote,second only to Vera Cruzthen Puebla, (capital of the state of the same name,) containing a population of 60,000 or 70,000. Thus much is certain. As to the future we will not invade the department of the prophets further than to say, that the Chronicle will soon see whether Gen. Scott can get to Mexico or not, and THE STRIKE IN VIRGINIA. 43 whether he can get back or not. Puebla, where the last accounts left him, is only 70 or 80 miles from the capital, and all the most difficult passes have been surmounted. And here we must remark that at Cerro Gordo, according to the doctrine of the London Times, General Scott was guilty of unfairness as well as at Vera Cruz. Instead of marching directly up to the breastworks, which rose behind each other like the seats of an amphitheatre, he stealthily cut a road through an awful chasm which was supposed to be wholly impracticable, to an elevation near the flank of the rear-most Mexican position, [Cerro Gordo,] and then had a heavy piece of cannon dragged at night, four miles, by 500 volunteers, and planted on said hill, ready for use in the morning. By direct- ing his principal assault upon the rear-most fort and capturing it, lie cut off 3000 men who garrisoned the advanced forts, from any chance of retreat, and made them all prisoners. The fair thing would have been, to march his men up in front, just as Santa Anna intended, and had them all shot down. At all events, he should have given Santa Anna notice that he was making a side cut, with a view to attack him in the flank. This would have en- abled the latter to carry off his spare wooden leg, and make dispositions for the escape of the 3000 in case of defeat. We have thus presented a birds-eye view of the course of the British press, or a considerable portion of it, in regard to the Mexican war, and would fain hope that British editors will review it themselves, as it cannot fail to be instructive to them. Observe, we do not complain of their de- nouncing the war ;this is their right, and perhaps their duty. War, in its best estate, is a dreadful evil, and cannot be justified save in extreme cases, if at all. On this point we have no contest with them. Nay, it is because we love peace, and the things that make for peace, that we regret the dis- position, too observable in the British press, to un- dervalue everything Americanhabitually to pre- dict disaster to our armsand when victory comes, to slur over the most brilliant achievements as a thing of nought. Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palnia were indeed an exception. The British press was for once profuse in its applause; but it appears to have been with a tacit condition that we should gain no more such victories. The fact is, the whole war has been a series of gallant feats on the part of our officers and men, and England can afford to acknowledge it. Although in every en- gagement, except those at Vera Crus and Cerro Gordo, the odds have been from two to four against the Americans, yet in every instance the latter have gained the day, and commonly have carried all before them. Whether they have been pitched battles in the open field, as at Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Sacramento, and Buena Vista; or whether the Mexicans have been sheltered by strong fortifications, as at Monterey, Vera Cruz and Germ Gordo, the result has been uniformly the same. More than 7000 prisoners have been taken; more than 600 pieces of cannon; cities and towns without number; and, in fact, much the greater portion of the whole country is now in quiet sub- jection to our arms. Considering that our force in Mexico has at no time exceeded 20,000 men, or at most 25,000 men; that the population of Mexico is at least 7,000,000; that the natural defences of the country are snperior even to those of Affgha- nistan, without including either northers or yellow fever; and that what has been accomplished, is the result of not exceeding 14 months warfare; con- sidering these things and others which go to make up the whole case, it seems to us that more could not be asked from any 25,000 men that the world ever saw. None but a band of heroes could have accomplished so much. Every page of the unwrit- ten history of this war records instances of personal daring and self-devotion which cannot be surpassed. The Mexicans, too, on several occasions, have fought bravely. In the 14 months that this war has continued, they have killed and wounded two thirds as many of our men as the British did on land in the whole of the war of 181215. The war on our part has been conducted far more vig- orously, and the men as a whole have been much better soldiers. The volunteers, who are so much sneered at on the other side of the Atlantic, are, to a great extent, the soul of chivalry, powerful men physically, exact marksmen, and on being placed under competent officers, become in a short time as efficient as regulars. As to money, of which the Times and the other English papers say we have none, and cannot get any, it is a sufficient reply, that when the govern- ment 6 per cent. stock of $23,000,000 was offered to the public a few months since, two or three times that amount was bid for at a premium; and that the same stock is now selling in the market at 5 or 6 per cent. above par. Money bears a higher price in England at this time than in the United States. In short, there is no lack of men and money with us, and if the war were ten times more formidable, it would call forth ten times greater resources. To make a long story a short one, it seem to us that Englishmen, instead of attempting to dispar- age our troops or our nation, would do better for themselves and for us, by claiming us as a shoot from the parent stock, a chip of the old block, a legitimate branch of the Anglo-Saxon family, full of the same energy and indomitable valor. From the New York Commercial Advertiaer. THE STRIKE IN VIRGINIA. SOME of the Richmond papers have taken ex- ceptions to our published views in relation to the difficulty between the proprietor and the white workmen of the Tredegar iron worksthey con- tending that the only inducement of the workmen was a fear that the demand for their labor would be diminished by allowing the negroes to acquire me- chanical skill in this iron craft, and that the disa- greement would he attended by no permanently serious consequences. But the Charleston Mcrcury has a wider and deeper insight, and sees more importance in the affair than is obvious to the Rich- mond editors. We copy its remarks, which have no little significance AsoLiTioN MOVEMENT IN VutuINIA.By the Richmond papers we perceive that the workmen at the Tredegar iron works have struck, that is, refused to perform their accustomed service. The proprietor, Mr. Anderson, supposed this movement was to extort higher wages, and, solicitous of justi- fying his course, published the rates paid, which proved to be considerably higher than those allowed for similar services in northern establishments. The workmen, in their response, said that their objec- tions were not to the wages, but to associating ~vith the colored workmen in the same establishment, and unless these were discharged they would no longer work for him. A VOICE FROM OLD SPAIN. Mr. Anderson, with a decision and firmness which merit the support and the thanks of the South, has refused to compromise his right to employ that kind of labor which he deems most conducive to his in- terest; and as the whites refuse to divide, has resolved to patronize hereafter the black race exclu- sively, who have to be fed and clothed as well as the other portions of the human family. He is now rapidly filling up the vacant places at his furnaces and foundry with the sable sons of Africa, the color of whose skins will suffer no detriment by coming in contact with coal and iron, both of which they can prepare and manufacture profitably without leg- islative protection. Mr. Andersons experiment has been most successful, and he has been agreea- bly surprised at the skill and alacrity with which the negroes have taken hold of what has been con- sidered hitherto the mystery of the trade, as if it was their peculiar province to deal with such dark articles. We are highly gratified at the triumphant success of Mr. Anderson, and consider it of the greatest importance to the south, as demonstrating that there are other sources of revenue, and means of subsist- ence for our blacks, besides cotton, rice, tobacco and sugar. Virginia, the Old Dominion, awak- ing to her true interests, is destined to become a great manufacturing state. Her mineral resources, and her immense ~vater power, are strong induce- ments to develop her capacities in that direction. As her agricultural productions become less remu- nerating, she is fortunate in having such profitable materials for the employment of her capital and labor. A mistaken idea has prevailed that our black population is not adapted to manufacturing purposes, and the south was thoughtlessly falling toto a false policy. As we became manufacturing, white operatives were imported, superseding our negro workmen, composing a large portion of our population, all of which had to be provided for. The inevitable effect of this course was to expel the black race, and to force their masters to emi- grate, or reluctantly to sell them. We rejoice, therefore, at the late strike in Richmond. It will awaken the south to the contemplation of a grave question, pregnant with the most momentous con- sequences, and on which the prosperity and welfare of our people may greatly depend. rrlle blacks are a most important part of our population. They compose the entire laboring class. They are human beings, and with other memberp of the family, must be fed and clothed. They merit the guardian care of the southern community. They are capable of performing all the functions to which labor can be profitably directed; and as the sources of profit from labor change, it is the policy of the country where they reside not to expel them, but reserve the new vocations for them. The coal and iron business seems to be peculiarly adapted to them; and as Mr. Ander~ns experiment, thus far, has resulted so encouragingly, we hope that the entire south will unite in countenancing the policy in which he has taken the lead; and effectually dispel the mis- taken notion that our blacks may not he as profitably employed in all the channels of mining and manu- facturing as in those of agriculture. We shall thus open new channels of profitable employment for our peculiar, contented, and most efficient class of la- borers. INGRATtTUDE is the abridgment of all baseness, a fault never found unattended with other viciousness. Fuller. A VOICE FROM OLD SPAIN. THE New Orleans Delta gives the following as a translation from the Heraldo, of Madrid. As an expression of views concerning the war with Mex- ico, and its probable result, the article is infinitely superior in sagacity and just appreciation of events to anything on the same subject that we have ever found in any of the London or Paris journals, greatly as the conductors and readers of those jour- nals plume themselves upon the ability with which they are conductedNew York Commercial Ad- vert~ser. The latest news from Mexico announce a tri- umph of the arms of the republic, which would be gratifying to us as Spaniards, as united to the peo- ple of that country by so many ties and so many traditions in common, if we thought it could decide, in favor of Mexico, the present desperate struggle between the Spanish and Anglo-Saxon races. But unfortunately it is not so. We see that after pro- longed disasters, after infinite defeats, operating in a country the thinness of whose population makes war most difficult, the Mexicans found it necessary to unite the flower of their army, in numbers four- fold superior to that of the Anglo-Americans, to achieve a triumph exceedingly doubtful, attended with losses which rendered any new operations impossible. This victory, it is true, has somewhat re~ui- mated the spirit of the country, so far at least as a nation, whose people are not homogeneous, are sus- ceptible of being reanimated; but in exchange for this advantage it has deeply wounded the pride of the Anglo-Americans, and if they determine to employ all their resources, the conquest of Mexico is inevitable. Let it be considered that the Mexican troops have been obliged to make a Herculean effort to gather a few trophies from one of the divisions of the enemythat this effort is almost a defeat, as it has left them exhaustedand that there yet remain in the country three or four divisions of the enemy, against which nothing can be opposedand it must be confessed that this victory of Santa Anna will only serve to precipitate the feeble nationality of Mexico down the declivity which leads to the prec- ipice. For ourselves, we believe that Mexico is already virtually blotted out of the list of independent nations. What can be expected of a nation, dis- tracted by revolutions and contests for ephemeral power, when the enemy is at its gates, and that no common enemy, but one which aims at nothing less than the destruction of its nationality What can we expect of a nation, where the clergythe rich- est Catholic clergy in the worldrefuse the smallest sacrifice in favor of the country, and prefer the pre- carious possession of worldly goods to the salvation of the land The army without resources, even without food; the ricketty politicians of the capital conspir- ing to overthrow the established order of things; the clergy occupied in secreting their valuables, and in exciting the fanatical opposition of the people against the sale of their property, without consider- ing whether the Anglo-Americans will not appro.. priate it with less ceremony; the only fortification of the coast threatened by a formidable squadron; a great part of the country occupied by an army highly disciplined, composed of men whose energy is proverbial, and abundantly supplied with every kind of munitions; what can result from all this! 44 THE BANK OF ENGLAND A CURSE TO THE NATION. We look upon the consequence as inevitable. En- thusiasm will be reawakened in the United States. An irresistible torrent of volunteers will inundate Mexico. And it will not be long before the eagle of the union will light in triumph upon the ancient capital of Montezuma. We, as Spaniards, cannot but lament this result. The last remnants of the magnificent work of Her- nando Cortes are about to disappear, and one of the most brilliant pages in our history will be bound, so to speak, in the volume of the stranger. Sor- rowful effects of revolutions! of demagoguical ten- dencies prematurely engrafted on a nation without stamina to support the effects of unholy ambition! Thirty years of independence have not sufficed to make the Mexicans a nation, notwithstanding they have held in their hands the richest elements that Providence ever placed within reach of the human family. And why Because they have strayed from the proper path; because they desired to form a republic with the materials fit only for a monar- chy; because they converted, by a simple decree, the ignorant and oppressed Indians, the dregs of the population, ignorant until then even of the lan- guage of their lords, into free citizens, possessing all the rights which a free nation could give. We now behold, though too late, the unavoidable evils which this error drew after it. And now, is it not permitted to ask what the nations of Europe think of the indefinite extension which the American union is acquiring, and which it carries forward with as much safety as rapidity, sometimes by arms, sometimes by money, some- times by emigration, without ever appearing to con- sider the morality of the means which it employs~ Will they permit it to absorb, successively, the whole continent of America, and so form a nation by the side of which the most powerful states of Europe would appear as ridiculous pigmies Will they consent that it shall consolidate its rich con- quests and make them the base of operations from which to invade in succession the states of Central America, where are to be found some of the most magnificent harbors in the world Will they per- mit tt, without obstruction, to reach the Isthmus of Panamaits golden dreamand thus yield to it one of the principal keys to the commerce of the globe Time alone can answer these questions; but the history of the past affords us but little comfort for the future. Within this century the union has acquired, successfully, the Floridas, Louisiana, and Texas, and it is now about to acquire the Californias and some of the richest provinces in Mexico. Who shall fix limits to the power of the active race which peoples it~ Let it once extend to Panama, and its might will be irresistible. It will hold the dominion of the seas; it will monopolize the commerce of the whole earth. And when the English language is spoken on all the shores of the Mexican Gulf, what human power will be sufficient to prevent the island of Cuba and the English Antilles from fallino by their own movement, and the impulse of irresistible attraction, into the arms open to receive them 3 From the N. Y. Journal of Commerce. THE BANK OF ENGLAND A CURSE TO THE NATION. THIs declaration will be denounced by many per- sons, as an abominable heresy. Yet, like many other declarations which have been so denounced, it is thoroughly true, and will probably be so con- fessed one day, by all the world. The bank, like the hierarchy and the monarchy, has been lauded from age to age; but there has been nothing more common in our world than for our poor race to shout their plaudits to the causes of their misery. That the British nation has always been dissatisfied with the details of the banks operations no one will deny The renewal of its charter has always produced much agitation and discussion, and at every renewal some new principle has been introduced~, which it was hoped would remedy the evils of its past opera- tion. But the more new principles have been intro- duced, the worse has been the operation of the ma- chine. At the last renewal the wisdom of all the regulators of currency was taxed for a system, and one was devised which was thought to be perfect. It was the great idea of compensation. The bank was divided into two departments, independent of and regulating each other, and the irregularities of the currency were to be at once and forever cured by so arranging the machinery that exactly the same quantity of currency should always be issued by the bank. If bank notes went out, it was to be only in exchange for coin paid in; and if the notes came in, the gold was again to go out. That was exactly right, and figures proved it. After all, the convic- tion of perfection is wearing away from the English mind, and the people are getting to think that the bank management is little better than formerly. The Economist, an ably conducted weekly paper, advocates the issuing of one pound notes; though with a cautiousness and upon arguments not all of them very important to a free-trade system. But it is very doubtful whether the stubbornness of the- ories will yield to such advice as this. The astrin- gent agony is supposed necessary to save the life of the currency. We have no hope that the Eng- lish nation will ever be satisfied with the working of the bank. The truth is, the existence of such an institution is a grand error, and no regulation of it can ever make it anything else than an error. It has no power of usefulness. Of necessity its whole operation is mischievous; or rather, its operation as a whole is so. The fundamental truth at the bot- tom of the whole matter, is, that the Creator, when he made all things, made laws for their regulation, and these laws are perfect in their operation. There can be no interference with them which is not inju- rtous. No law of God, either in mental, moral, or physical affairs, can be disobeyed without damage. For trade a system was provided when the world was made, and it is in full life and vigor still. This system every man knows to exist, for he feels its workings in his own affairs every day, and so all men have come to speak of the laws of trade as a real existing code, as truly as the laws of matter or the laws of mind. By the operation of these laws, when people make haste to be rich, engage in speculation, and plunge deeply in debt, money will become scarce and dear, and the prices of other property will fall, and what is called a revulsion will take place. Yet laws of trade, alias the laws of God, while they insist on correcting the wrong state of things into which men have been plunged, will do it in the mildest and best way possible. The establishment of a bank to regulate currency, a tariff to regulate importations, or a trades union to fix the price of labor, are efforts to overthrow or amend the laws of God, and always of course aggravate evils, and cure them roughly. It is by reasoning like this that we know that the bank of England, a great machine to regulate the curren6y and supersede Gods perfect laws in that case made, is of necessity a curse to the people. 45 STOCKTON ST. ANNES. But we can see in detail how it is a curse. It is a great central regulator, controlled by men who are liable to err, and do err, more or less, in the management of the machine; and as it is a great machine, the mistakes which the managers make produce great disorder and mischief. The people of England now say that the directors of the bank ought to have foreseen the terrific storm which was gathering over money affairs, and, by restraining their issues, to have modified it or warded it off; whereas, by discounting in a very liberal way up to the very bursting of the tempest, they greatly ag- gravated the calamity. Now that the pressure is on, and the agony almost insupportable, deputations from all quarters go up to London, praying the bank to loan more freely. Such an institution is injuri- ous, because it turns away the attention of the peo- ple from the true causes of the pressure which they feel, to the bank, and causes them to look to the wrong source for relief. Another very great oppression of the bank is, that it effectually annihilates fifty millions of dollars of the national property, by locking it up in perpetual uselessness. About this quantity of coin is thought necessary to sustain the dignity of the bank, and the public confidence in its ability. From age to age this money must lie untouched, and yet utterly useless in fact, for everybody knows that the money might all be stolen, and not the slightest loss be sustained. The empty boxes would support the dignity of the bank and the credit of its hundred millions of dollars currency, just as well as full boxes, if only people supposed the money to be there. If this great responsibility of sustaining the currency were left to its own course, it would divide itself among ten thousand persons or companies, and the fifty millions locked up, as people suppose, in the bank, might be exchanged for food. Then the prohibition of paper money of lower denomina- tioris than five pounds, is an appendage of the bank plan; and this annihilates or fixes in a latent state, which is the same thing, a vast sum more, which might also be exchanged for food. The loss of so great a sum, practically annihilated, is no small matter. What would be thought in these days, of establishing a great depot of provisions, where a million barrels of flour should be perpetually locked up to guard against famine; never, however, to be used, any portion of it, though the whole nation should perish, but kept to sustain the national con- fidence in abundance The laws of trade lay in abundant stocks when there is an abundant supply, but dispose of and use up the last pittance when there is a scarcity. There is good sense in that, but none in the bank plan, which neither accumu- lates (to any sufficient extent) in the time of abun- dance, nor dispenses in time of scarcity. Some- times we have in New York five hundred thousand barrels of flour. The scarcity of the last winter drew off every barrel, and left the stores of the fac- tors as empty as the stomach of any famished Irish- man. This is Gods plan of wisdom and benevo- lence. If, dissatisfied with that, we had adopted the bank plan of supply, half a million of our fellow- men would have starved to death in consequence. Yet there is no famine here. There has been no overselling. The supply has been made to hold out to the last, and the whole matter has been man- aged as with a prophets foresight. If we had but established a bank of flour, with the notion that it must always keep a million of barrels on hand, we should probably have been shouting to it as the Hindoos do to Juggernaut, and starved to death, glorying that the bank had a good stock on hand. Ours is a rebellious race, which will not consent to be governed by laws that are perfect, and so we bring upon ourselves a thousand unnecessary ca lamities. From Sharpes Magaztne. STOCKTON ST. ANNES. ADAM STOCK was a native of Aberdeen, but had been sent to England at an early age, in order to relieve his parents in some degree from the pressure of a very numerous family. However, though bringing with him nothing of this worlds goods, he inheritedwhat will generally be found to be the pledge of success in this worlda strong bodily constitution, a sound heart, good common sense, and habits of indefatigable industry. The place of his destination was one of our northern manufactur- ing towns, where his maternal uncle filled the office of superintendent of a cloth mill. Here Adam arrived at the age of fourteen, and, having received a good grammatical education, soon found means of establishing himself in the service, as he had before in the good opinion, of his uncles employers. Through various subordinate occupations he rose to be a clerk in the warehouse, and afterwards suc- ceeded his uncle in the responsible post of superin- tendent of the factory. This situation he held for sixteen years; he was then permitted to share in the profits of the business; and a dissolution of partner- ship subsequently taking place, he found himself in a position to undertake the erection of a new factory, in conjunction with one of the partners, upon a small estate which he had purchased, about a mile and a half from the town. But before entering upon this portion of Mr. Stocks history, it should be mentioned, that after he had been settled about six years in his clerkship, he contracted a prudent and happy marriage, the issue of which was two sons, James and Robert. These sons he had caused to be apprenticed according to his then means, the one to a tailor, the other to a shoemaker. At the time of the removal of the factory, they were both carrying on extensive and profitable businesses. The establishment of this factory is the main subject of our narrative. From his first settlement at , Mr. Stock had been an attentive observer of the moral and religious condition of the people among whom his lot was cast. He had himself been trained in strict habits of religion. His family, though it had never risen beyond the middle class, could trace a descent of two hundred years, during which it had continued in dutiful allegiance to the church. This was the pride of the Stocks; but it was checked by that which is the best security of uncompromising principlestrict self-denying habits of practical religion. Adam was a worthy scion of an honorable house. The evils of the factory system, as it is now technically termed, had not yet developed themselves; but he was not slow to perceive that demoralization very generally prevailed among those who worked in the mills, and that no one tie existed by which workmen and master were bound together. Gratitude and attachment, on the part of the former, there was none; and how should there be, when no kindliness or consideration was ever shown to elicit it Something he had himself attempted when his position seemed to allow of his doing so; b~a the other partners were averse to seconding his endeavors, and the habits of the peo- ple did not invite him to meddle with their domestic affairs. Over this inability to fulfil what he felt to 46 BRITISH TRADE WITH MEXICO. be, in the strictest sense, his most necessary obliga- tions as an employer, he had long mourned; and therefore he resolved to seize the opportunity offered by the dissolution, in conjunction with the son of the original founder of the firm, who was like- minded with himself, for constructing and organiz- ing an establishment upon better principles. With this view, a mill, of moderate dimensions, was com- menced on the property aforementioned, situate in a little agricultural hamlet belonging to the town, and cottages for about fifty families of workpeople. His two sons, who were both single, had already built themselves a house, and were living together on the spot, and there was a population of about two hundred poor, who had been settled there for many generations. Simultaneously with these build- ings were seen also to arise a church parsonage, and schools, which, however, Messrs. Stock and Newsome were not allowed to erect at their own cost alone. A retired physician begged to be al- lowed to take a part in the foundation of this inter- esting colony; and though Mr. Stock refused to derive any profit from the land given for this pur- pose, lie permitted Dr. Worth, in lieu of purchasing ground sufficient for the erection of a house for himself, to undertake the building of the schools and parsonage. To this new township of Stockton St. Annes, as it was called, in honor at once of the proprietor and of the saint who had given a name to a famous spring which was situated on the estate, the factory was now removed, and a new order of proceedings at once commenced. The desire of the proprietor was, that all engaged in the mill should regard themselves as members of his family: to none, there- fore, was the invitation made without explaining the nature of the relationship which would henceforth be presumed and acted upon. Order and morality would be expected in the first instance, and, what alone can be the source of abiding peace, the bond of a common faith. Before finally closing with his men, Mr. Stock assembled them, with their wives and families, and propounded the principles on which he proposed to conduct their little society. The wages to be paid ~vere rather below the ordinary average; but the difference would be more than compensated by the luxury of well-contrived, airy houses, with sufficient gardens. Temperance and chastity, and regular attendance at the public services of the church ,.were to be indispensable conditions of a residence at St. Annes; besides which, they were required to pro- vide against sickness and old age, by paying to the guild of St. Barnabasa well-regulated provident society, which the proprietors themselves estab- lished. The good effects of the system began speedily to appear, in the increased happiness and self-respect of the little colony. Daily does the church bell call to morning prayer, and is responded to by at least three fourths of the whole adult population. Contentment is visibly written on every countenance; and a better conducted community it would be im- possible to find. Two accessions have lately been made to the society of Stockton St. Annes; the first a colony of tailors and shoemakers, who have been located there by Mr. Stocks two sons; and, secondly, a highly-respectable firm have requested to transfer their flax mill from the town to this favored site. Mr. Stock is now in the vigor of a green old age; and long may he live to enjoy the fruits of his religious care for the well-being of his dependents, and to witness the influence of his good example upon others, to whom is committed the like re- sponsibility of employing the labor of their fellow- men for their own aggrandizement. Reader, if you desire a treat, we advise you to visit Stockton, either on the festival of St. Anne, the patron saint of the church, or on that of St. Barnabas, the patron of the guildthe two great general holidays of our new townshipand you will witness a specimen of cheerful hilarity, and well-regulated mirth, that will remind you of olden and better times. BRITISH TRADE WITH MEXICO. STRONG hopes were entertained that this packet would bring tidings of an accommodation between Mexico and the United States. Santa Anna was known to have gone to the capital with these inten- tions. Whether he would be able to accomplish them was indeed doubted. Twenty-seven days civil war and fusillade in the streets of Mexico ought certainly to have disposed every pacific and influential person to put an end, on any condition, to the imbecile misrule of native parties. Santa Anna would grant anything to the Americans in the shape of territory. The only difficulty will be, should the latter insist on moneyed indemnity to be paid immediately, or in a short interval. That, in- deed, would be out of any Mexican power to promise, or at least to execute, for everything like revenue has ceased. And should the Americans become the gatherers themselves, they could not hope to raise it. They may, however, stipulate for the retention of the seaports until they can pay themselves with the proceeds of the customs. This, however galling to us in appearance, is not so in reality, at least as yet. The tariff fixed by the Americans is such as to entice imports, and much of the British goods in d6p6t at the West India Islands have been forced into Mexico through the medium of the new American custom-house at Tampico. The capture of Vera Cruz will facilitate this. And thus, instead of quarrelling with the Americans in behalf of the Mexicans, we, or at least our traders, are quietly sharing with the Americans the profits of Mexican subjugation. The Mexican bondholders, ho~vever, will not be in so good a condition with the American as possessor of the sole Mexican revenue, and with mining opera- tions paralyzed by the risks of war. Whatever may be Santa Annas purpose and re- solve, it is at least certain that he has arrived from Mexico, and with 15,000 men occupies a strong position at Cerro Qerdo. He makes all show of an intention to fight. And he may try it again, in the vain hope of either beating the Americans, or get- ting his own troops and party beaten with more resignation. The great hope of the Americans is in Santa Anna. They may conquer Mexico in her despite, but to govern or pacify it without some such instrument is almost impracticable.Examiner, 15 May. Tnosz who quit their proper character to assume what does not belong to them, are for the greater part ignorant of the character they leave and of the character they assumeBurke. To be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition, the end to which every enterprise and labor tends and of which every desire prompts the prose- cution Johnson. 47 LADY MARYTHE NIGHTINGALE. LADY MARY. THOU wert fair, Lady Mary, As the lily in the Sun: And fairer yet thou mightest be Thy youth was but begun: Thine eye was soft and glancing, Of the deep bright blue; And on the heart thy gentle words Fell lighter than the dew. They found thee, Lady Mary, With thy palms upon thy breast, Even as thou hadst been praying, At thine hour of rest: The cold pale moon was shining On thy cold pale cheek, And the morn of the Nativity Had just begun to break. They carved thee, Lady Mary, Ati of pure white stone, With thy palms upon thy breast, In the chancel all alone: And I saw thee when the winter moon Shone on thy marble cheek, When the morn of the Nativity Had just begun to break. But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, With thy palms upon thy breast, Among the perfect spirits In the land of rest: Thou art even as they took thee At thine hour of prayer, Save the glory that is on thee From the Sun that shineth there. We shall see thee, Lady Mary, On that shore unknown, A pure and happy angel, In the presence of the throne; We shall see thee when the light divine Plays freshly on thy cheek, And the resurrection morning Hath just begun to break. REV. H. ALFORD. THE NIGHrINGALE.A countryman one day went to the mansion of a wealthy lord. Here he heard the singing of a bird in a gilt cage. On approaching it, he saw it was a nightingale. With a feeling of melancholy, he stood and leant upon his staff, and listened to the song. Then the servants of the rich man came to him, and said, Wherefore art thou amazed that thou standest thus musing there? 1 am amazed, answered the countryman, that your master can bear the sad ttotes of the imprisoned bird in your splendid mansion. Thou fool, replied one of the servants, does the song of the nightingale seetn sad to thee in thy fields and woods? No, rejoineti the farmer; there its song fills me with delight and admiration. Are its notes, then, different there? asked the man, with a contemptuous smile. Certainly, said the countryman. Our night- ingales, amidst sprays covered with leaves and blos- som, chant the praises of renewed Nature; they sing, under the open canopy of heaven, the song of liberty, and over their brooding mates the notes of love. At this, the servants raised a loud laugh, and called the countryman a simple clown. But he held his peace, and returned quietly to his cottage and his fields.Krummacher. LET not any one say he cannot govern his passions, nor hinder them from breaking out and carrying him into action; for what he can do before a prince or a great man, he can do alone, or in the presence of God, if he willLocke. CONTENTS OF No. 164. 1. Lord Lovat and Duncan Forhes, 2. Natural History and Origin of Dogs, 3. Pilgrimage to Jordan of Greek Christians, 4. Sundry Scraps from 5. Capsicum House, Chaps. vi. and vii., 6. A Night in the Forest 7. British Press and Mexican War, 8. Voice from Old Spain 9. Bank of England a Curse to the Nation, 10. Stockton St. Annes North British Review, - Cincinnati Chronicle, Punch Sharpes Mag-azine, Journal of Commerce, Herald Journal of ~Jommercc, ~Sharpes Magazine, PoETRY.Agatha, 16Gray Forest Eagle, ~l7Lady Mary, 48. ScRAPsThe Cuckoo, 16Presence of Mind, 27Strike in Virginia, 43The Nightin- gale, 48. The Lmv,no AGE is pnhlished every Saturday, by E. LITTELL & Co., at No. 165 Tremont St., BosToN. Price t21 cents a jiumber, or six dollars a year in advance. Remittances for any period will he thankfully received and promptly attended to. To insure regularity in mail- ing the work, remittances and orders should be addressed to the office of publication as above. Twenty dollars will pay for 4 copies for a year. COMPLETE SETS to the end of 1846, making eleven large volumes, are for sale, neatly bound in cloth, for twenty dollars, or two dollars each for separate volumes. Any numbers may he had at t2~ cents. AGENctEsThe publishers are desirous of making arrangements in all parts of North America, for increas- ing the circulation of this workand for doing this a liberal commission ~vill be allowed to gentlemen who will interest themselves in the business. But it must he un- derstood that in all cases payment in advance is expected. The price of the work is so low that we cannot afford to incur eltlter risk or expense in the collection of debts. 48 1 17 27 28 30 33 39 44 45 46

LITrELLs LIVING AGE.No. 165.b JULY, 1847. From the Dublin University Magazine. PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRL S LOVE. CC A child most infantine, Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age Iii all but its sweet looks and mien divine.SHELLEY. IT was morningbeautiful morningin that fairest season of the year When April has wept itself to May. Earth awoke from her winter sleep, fresh and glorious and young, as if it were but a day since she bore on her bosom Adam and Eve, and shed around them the flowers, and breezes, and sunshine of Eden. Beautiful looked the Eternal Mother, in her ever-renewed yuuth, over which the change, and misery, and crime of six thousand years have passed like a shadow, and left no trace. There is no glamor like that of the pen; and it has this surpassing spell, that the magic extends also to the one who wields the charm. Let us, therefore, in this wet and gloomy day, ~vhen a heavy mist hangs like a shroud over the dreary city when under our window sound the plashing foot- falls of tired passers by, and the incessant rattle of vehicleslet us, amidst all this, call up to our minds eye the scene where our story begins, and linger fondly over that beautiful spot, in the deline- ation of which memory strives ~vith imagination. It was the breakfast-room of a house that stood alone on a hill sideone of those stately mansions that are found in England, far in the country, where generation after generation of the old fami- lies of the gentry are born, live, and die; father, son, and grandson occupying, in their turn, the same abode, and descending to the same ancient stone monument hard by. Cheerfully came the warm morning sun into the room, not stealthily, as in early spring, but with a glad overflow of light and warmth, brightening even the solemn oak furniture, and contending bravely with the tiny fire that was lit through habit, until it fairly put out its puny antagonist, and reigned supreme. The long low windows, on one side, opened on a formal, dainty little flower-garden, and then, winding through a smooth lawn, lay a narrow walk that led into the forest, on whose borders the house lay. In three minutes one might pass into that beautiful wood, wild as if mans font had never entered it, and alive with the melodies of leaves quivering in the morn- ing breezes. The tender green of the thorn mingled with the dark holly, that here vied even with the oak in size and grandeur: the primroses looking out smiling from the roots of the old trees; and large beds of the wood anemone, or wind- flower, seemed like a white, wavy mantle cast over the long grass, in recesses so thick that not a stray sunbeam could pierce through. The loud songs of the birds reached even to the house, like a flood of aerial music; the ringing carol of the lark, the deep note of the throstle, the silvery warble of the linnet, and the soft coo of the wood-dove, all mingling in sweet harmony. Listening eagerly, with up-turned face, that did not shrink even from the broad dazzling sunlight, CLXV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XIV. 4 sat a little girl beside the open window. Her soft hair falling in curls, that prettiest fashion for a child, was of that hue which a gleam of sunshine changes into gold ; her head ~vas turned aside; but her atti- tude was full of childish grace, with the little hands crossed on her knee, motionless, in silent thought. Opposite to her was a boyher twin-brothera taller and bolder model of herself; sitting carelessly on the floor; lie was busily carving the top of a hazel wand. Boy-like, he whistled merrily over his work, and looked so happy and handsome, with his sunny curls, like his sisters, hanging over a face that still preserved the round curves of child- hood, his deep blue eyes shaded by dark, heavy lashes, and the perfect classic profile of his month and chin, over which smiles were ever dimpling. With these young creatures, as with the earth, it was the spring of lifeto them it was beautiful, hopeftil, joyous morning. The mother entereda sweet, delicate-looking woman, fragile and graceful, in her robe of pure white; and then the father came in, like a shadow after sunshine. He was a tall man, of middle age; but the sharp lines abotit his mouth, and a crown entirely bald, gave him the appearance of being much older. Yet, not a single gray hair mingled with the thick brown locks at the back of his head, and his form was unbent. his cold, clear blu& eyes gleamed from under-hanging brows and his noble forehead was full of intellect, lie looked like a man in whom mind held a predminence over heart. The little ones timidly advanced towards him. Why, EdmnundStellaearly this morningl he said, and stooped mechanically to kiss them, while a smile like winter sunshine just bent his lips. Edmund, the boldest, and the favorite, stayed to show his wonderful wood-carving to his father, with boyish pride; htst little Stella crept along by the table, and nestled beside her niothers knee. What has my little girl been doing B said Mrs. Brandrethi, txviniiig her fingers in the long silken hair. I have been listening to the birds, mamma, and feeling the sunshine, it is so warm and pleasant. A light sigh heaved the mothers bosom. That is well; I like to see my darling happy and gay, she answered tremulously. And now came the pleasant breakfast hourthe pleasantest meal of all to country-dwellers, and visitants. How cheerful, and fresh, and blithe all look; how welcome is the balmy morning air; nay, to descend to common things, how fragrantly rises up the steam of coffee, and how grateful both to sight and taste are the country viandssnowy new-laid eggs, and golden butter, and creamrich and luscious as nectar. Commend us to a country breakfast. Who could come down with sour looks, and bitter speeches, on a sunny morning, and not feel all the hardness and ill-temper melt away from his heart beneath its influenc& ? Merrily the children latighed and talked, making, at times, even tIme sedate father look up from his reading, and winning tIme gentle mother to smiles less pensive than ordinary. At last Mr. Brandreth collected his papers, and laid them carefully aside; he was a learned man, wise in geology and natural PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS LOVE. philosophy, and always devoted the breakfast-hour to the re-perusal and arrangement of his lucubra- tions. The twins received the signal to retire, and Edmund hastily rose, while Stella moved slowly from her seat. As she passed, her stretched out arms, by which she guided her steps, came in con- tact with the heap of papers so carefully arranged, and they fell in confusion on the floor. Mr. Bran- dreth started up angrily Careless childalways doing some mischief or other, he said, and thrust Stella rudely away. The child fell, and began to weepnot loudly as most childrenbut with the silent tears of advanced life. The mother took her to her bosom, and soothed her. Do take the child awayMarian, said Mr. Brandreth, in a vexed tone, she annoys one so much. Mrs. Brandreth looked with meek reproach at her husband Hush, hushyou forget, she answered, imploringly, still pressing her little girl closer to her bosom, .where the tears at last ceased. Stella walked, or rather crept, to her fathers knee, and said, gently Papa, I did not mean to do harm. Forgive poor Stellashe is blind ! It was sothere was no light in those large, blue, limpid eyes, that were lifted so meekly to the fathers face. Six years had the little child looked on the beautiful sky, and seen the flowers, and then a shadow grew over her vision; gradually it dark- ened and darkened, and the world grew dimmer, until, at last, she saw it no more. Now, all the visible earth was become to her like a scene once beheld in a dream, and then shut out forever. Yet, but for an uneasy wandering of the eyes, no one could have told that those beautiful blue orbs were sightless. The sweet face wore, at times, that peculiar mournful look which the blind always have, but this ~vas the only outward token of the affliction which had fallen upon her. Affliction it could hardly be called, for the child scarcely felt it as such; her blindness had come on so gradually, that Stella had become accustomed to her helpless condition. And, besides, from her very infancy the child had been quiet and thoughtful, caring little for the sports attractive to her age; as if with a fore-shadowing of how soon she was to be deprived of them. Gentle and subdued she was, as became her helpless condition ; it seemed as if He, who knew how dependent her whole life must be on the affection of others, had endowed her with that irre- sistible beauty which wins love, and the meek spirit which preserves it. But now Stella hardly felt her darkness, so illu- minated was it by the light of a mothers love. More than her own life, more than her handsome frank-hearted boynay, more even than the hus- band of her youth, did Mrs. Brandreth cling to her blind child; with a passionate fervor, an all-absorb- ing love, that atoned to Stella for the loss of the blessed gift of sight. Perhaps her own delicate health made this love inure intense, from the feel- ing that she would not always be with her darling, to cherish her in her hearts core; and shield her there from all contact with the rough world which the poor stricken one was so ill fitted to brave. The mother knew well that every year which unfolded, in new beauty, Stellas mind and person, drew her own life nearer towards its close. At last, when Stella and Edmund still lingered on the verge of childhood, the mother was called away. ~Gently, not rudely, came the summons, and yet it was suddenjust as an autumn leaf flutters and flutters until it drops at once and is seen no more. rhus did Mrs. Brandreth dieeven before her husband, who, all-unconscious of danger, was on a journey, could reach his home, the wife whom he had sincerely loved, though hardly with the ten- derness meet for her gentle nature, had passed away. So swiftly came the angel of death, that the mother had hardly time to bless her two babes, and commend poor Stella to her brothers care, in a charge that lingered on the boys memory from youth to old age. Then, worn out with pain, she kept silence, and lay with closed eyes, still holding fast the little hands of her daughter, the thought of whose desolation troubled her spirit, even on the threshold of paradise. It was night, and the wearied child laid her head on the pillow and slept. Mrs. Brandreths elder sister and tender nurse wished to remove her, but the mother would not suffer it. ~~letDo not wake her, she whispered, faintly my darling sleepI have kissed her and said good-nighta long good-nightuntil comes the eternal morning; let her sleep. * * * * * No more words passed through those white lips. Once or twice the eyes opened and rested lovingly, lingeringly on the face of the sleeping child; then they closed forever! When morning came, another spirit had entered the gates of heaven. Silently, and without tears, the sister unclosed Stellas warm fingers from those that stiffened round them, and bore her away, still sleeping. Wildly and resolutely the child strove to return to her mother. Her darkened eyes could not see the change of death, therefore she did not believe in its reality. An hour before she had heard the voice, had felt the hand; both were the same, though feeble; she could not comprehend that one short sleep had parted her mother from her. So clinging to her twin-brother, Stella came and stood by the dead; she called, but there was no answer. Where is she, where is she? cried the de- spairing child. Edmund guided his sisters hand to the fingers that had held hers while life lasted; their marble coldness made her start, and cling, trembling, to her brothers neck. EdmundI cannot seetell me how she looks, fearfully whispered Stella. Whitestillwith closed eyes and parted lips oh, mother! mother! it is not you ! and the boy burst into tears. No, my children, said the sister of Mrs. Bran- dreth, who stood behind them. EdmundStella I will tell you what she is nowa white-robed, glorious angel at the footstool of Gods thronea voice forever singing his praisea spirit pure and perfect, though we know not what form she bears in heaven, save that it is in Gods image, and must be beautiful. And in the stillness of the death-chamber that pious and gentle woman drew the orphans of her dead sister to her side and read aloud from the Holy Book, the words that speak of the immortality of the soul, and the state of the blessed in heaven; words so simple, that childhood finds in them no mystery hard to be understoodso sublime, that the gray-haired philosopher may feel his heart glow with the consciousness that he bears within his frail mortal frame a spirit that can never know death! The children listened, standing beside the clay of their mother; yet even then they thought of her no longer as dead on earth, but as rejoicing in heaven. 50 PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRL S LOVE. CHAPTER II. Are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar? Such difference without discord as can make Those sweetest sounds in which all spirits shake, As trembling leaves in a continuous air.SHELLEY. FROM the time of her mothers death, Stella drooped and pined. The world had grown all dark to the motherless child. Her wild brother, and her cold, reserved father, alike strove to soften their natures and show tenderness to the helpless one; but man is so different to woman, and all their kindness atoned not for the love of ~her who was gone. Edmund remembered well his mothers dy- ing injunction, and many a time he left the field sports, of which he was so passionately fond, to come and talk with his sister, and lead her into the beautiful forest, where she could hear the birds songs and be made glad with the gladness of nature. But nothing could altogether remove the perpetual sadness which now darkened the face of the blind girl. Ezcluded from the pleasures of childhood, hers passed away like a sorrowful dream. She grew up, living within herself, in a world of her own imagining, over which death hung, like an eternal shadow, a mysterious woe which she could not fathom, and which yet haunted her like a spec- tre. The remembered touch of that icy hand made her shudder in her dreams; it was all she knew of the great change. Her mind, undiverted from the past by any charms of the present, became dead to all outward inipressions, and alive only to imagina- tion, and most of all to memory. Thus, in this dreamy state of mind, the blind girl insensibly passed from childhood into girlhood. She had attained the age of which poets write as sweet- est of all, when the bud is just opening into a flower, and life is in its hopeful spring. How little do these said poets know that this is the saddest age of all. What woman would ever wish to be acain sweet sixteen B Childhoods life is a never-end- ing present, a contented dwelling on what is best and pleasantest now, without memory to sharpen the past, or anxiety to darkeo the future. But with youth, soonoh, how soon! comes the thirst for something morethe bitter, unsatisfied yearning after vague happiness, some glorious ideal of human felicity, the same in all, yet varied in form, accord- ing to the different minds in which it abides. One dreams of wealth, another of gayety, anotheralas for her !of love; and so the young creatures go on restlessly seeking to fathom their newly-awa- kened thoughts and feelings; and, knowing not their own hearts, nor yet life, they wander about, blindly dazzled or groping in darkness, until the waking comes from that troubled dream, and they enter on the reality, the true life of heart and soul, for which woman was made. Stella entered upon girlhood with few or none of the buoyant hopes of most young maidens. She saw not beauty, and love was to her only a name that brought to her the memory of her motherthe sole love she had ever known. Always thought- ful, she lived more than ever within the dark cham- bers of her own soulher only world. But that world now became peopled with deeper and wilder fancies; every day new chords were touched in her heart, the mysterious harmonies of which she could scarcely understand. She loved to be alone; in winter she listened to the wind until she almost fan- cied it talked with her; in summer, she sat for hours in the still, silent sunshine, and thought of heaven, of the time when she should go thither, and see her mother, with eyes no longer darkened. Then a warblea perfume would bring back the dreaming girl to earth, and she would think how sweet the world most be to others, and droop her head, and weep that she was blind. One gift atoned to Stella, in some measure, for the loss of sight, and that was, a soul to which music was as its very breath. Her voice had those deep, low tones that thrill from the heart to the heart; not a clear, mtmsical, glad some warble, but a voice that spoke of mind, of feeling, of passion, such as came from no angels lips, but from a womans heart. We once heard, and from one too who spoke and thought well, the saying One must always love a woman who sings sweetly ; and Stellas was a voice not to be admired, perhaps, btit to be loved, as coming from a heart as pure and beautiful and sincere as itself. But now this lovely voice was only to her as the means whereby she poured out that overflowing heart in a river of mel- ody; sitting, Ophelia-like, for hours and hours chanting snatches of old songs and running her fingers over that sweetest of home friends, the fire- side piano, in harmonious revealings. And when, day by day, the vague sadness of aimless and unsat- isfied youth grew upon her, the blind girl still clung to her ever mournful strains, that made her feel less the weight of her solitude. There are in life crises, distinct and vivid, on which we can look back and feel that they have colored our whole destiny ; can say, but for that one yearone weekone day, how different would all have been. Silently, tinconsciously are we swept on towards these moments, which lie like hills, placed here and there, from whose top we can see our whole life, like a panorama, stretched out before us; and know that but for such and such events we should not have felt and been as we are. Chance, fatality, are the words on the lips of the wise proud man, in exl)lanation of this; but the humble, loving spirit looks higher for the unveiling of these marvels which pass worldly wisdom. Thus, umearer and nearer came the blind girl to the boundary of that golden shadow which over- hangs human life, and ever has done so since the time when the first created one wooed the mother of all men, in the twilight of paradise. Once, and once only, can come this sunny cloud over mortal life. Man may love twice, thricenay, even womans constancy may know the freshness of early fancy, or the calm peace of healed affections; but, be it first or last, every man and woman has, or has had, some love supreme to ~vhich all others are as nothing. And this is the immortality of love; falsehood, or death, or change, may intervene; the wounded heart may be healed, the fickle vow forgotten in other and higher ones, but no other feelings can ever be exactly the same. It is the idealization of love, which happens but once in a lifetime, and which each young life that enters earth renews in itself, thus making an ever fresh eternity of love. Some inexplicable whim allured the retired and studious Mr. Brandreth from his home ; and he set off to travel on the continent, taking with him his daughter. Wearily did the blind girl ask to be left in peace with her birds and flowers, and heavily and fearfully did she look forward to entering on a world that could bring her nought hut pain. Stell:u did not know that the silken thread of her destiny was insensibly drawing her towards him who was to lighten its hurthen, and make all joy and sunshine to her. Thus it was that she met him. 51 52 PHILIP ARi~IYTAGE; OR~ THE BLIND GIRL~S LOVE. As a man of science and learning, Mr. Brandreth amounted to vices; and, young as he was, he had had the entr6e everywhere among the gifted, and learned wisdom, and bade fair to become, if he were the patrons of such. Thither he also carried his not already, a talented and good man. Thus far blind daughter, perhaps because he thought to we have spoken of the mind of Philip Armytage; please her, for he was a kind father, in the main, reversing the general order, and putting foremost and perhaps because he liked to see many eyes rest- what is indeed the highest. Of his face and per- ing with admiration on the beautiful English girl, son, we may now say, that hoth were pleasing to and to hear praises of her glorious voice. Rarely a ladys eye; he was certainly not an Apollo, but was it that Stella suffered this gift to he shown he was tall, graceful, and looked, moved, spoke like forth; hut, on one night, ~vearied of herself, of sol- a gentleman. Such was he whom destinywhat itude, of society, she gave way to her feelings, and can such things be but destinylthrew in the way sang, with her whole soul in the music. of the young, beautiful, blind girl, whose lonely Who is she who sang? sai(l a clear, low-toned, dreaming heart yearned for an ideal round which to manly voice, whose pleasant English tones ran hang, as a garland, all its flowers of love and fancy. through the Bahel of French, Italian, and German And rare as the fact is in the history of most tongues that filled the saloon, and pierced to the maidens hearts, in this case the shrine was one acute ears of the hlind girl. The answer was mao- worthy to receive that purest and holiest sacrifice, dible to her, but then she heard the same pleasant a womans first love. If this love be so powerful voice again, in tones that were much fainter, and that it is sometimes unchangedalways remem- had a mournful emphasis. beredto old age, what must be the feelings of Poor girlpoor girlI had a sistcr who was those on whom outward impressions can have no blind. influence, whom outward beauty cannot lure to A deep crimson flushed Stellas cheek, for she fickleness! how intensehow all-engrossing must was ever sensitive on the subject of her misfortune; be the love of the blind! hut that sweet and compassionate voice healed where it wounded. ______ As she left the piano, the blind girl felt her hand CHAPTER ill. taken by that of a stranger, and a t~entle Suffer Amor che nullo amato amor perdona me to lead you, fell on her ear, in the same voice Mi prese, del costul placer si forte to which she had listened before. Ere they could Che come vedi, ancer non m abhandona.DANTE. find Mr. Brandreth, the stranger had time to ask Love, that to none beloved to love again and claim pardon, as a coontryman, fir thus address- Remits, seized me with wish to please so strong That as thou seest, even yet it doth remain. ing one unknown; and by declaring his name, and speaking of some mutual friends, he won upon even THE wise ones of the earth may ridicule loves the reserved father. All that evening, Philip Ar- mysterious sympathies, as they do time stories of mytage sat by the side of the blind girl, who felt ghosts and apparitions, but there must be some her heart warm to the sound of an English voice truth in both, or so much pains need not and would in that far land. And his was so sweet, and, when not he talcen to prove them to be false. How was he spoke to her, had such a pitying softness, as if it, then, that before Stella and Philip Armytage had he thought of the sister he had mentioned. No met half a dozen times, they began to feel and to talk wonder that when sleep came over poor Stellas like old friends? What was that strange sympathy dimmed eyes, that voice haunted her in her dreams, which made the very words he uttered appear to Philip Armyta~e was that darling hero of nov- her as if she had heard them before in some dim elists, that Pariah of real lifea poor gentleman. dreamas if site had thought his thoughts long Heir to an old uncle, who would marry and thwart before? And what was it that caused Philip tIme hopes of the nephew he had educated with all Armytage, who had basked all his life in the smile the luxuries and expectations of wealth, young of woman, to feel an irresistible charm in gazing on Armytage, at twenty-five, was thrown like a stray the sweet face of the poor blind girl, who, as yet sea-weed on the ocean of the world, with manners, unconscious of tIme nature of the invisible tie between mind, and education that only made him feel more them, treated him with the frank regard of a young keenly his changed position, lie experienced to sister towards a dear brother? the full how differently the world looks on a bar-, Most welcome is the society of a countryman to onets heir and a noblemans secretary; even the those who are travelling abroad; and Stella thought fine gentlemanly bearing and richly-gifted mind, it was this reason that made Philips presence so which could not he taken away from him, were grateful to her. Then, too, he was so gentle, and almost thought to add to the category of his imper- talked to her of his lost sister, blind like herself, fections now. umutil she felt that blindness to be less pain. He LTnder the infleenee (if these changed fortunes, read to her, and thus opened a new world to her Philip Armytage ought. in order to become a true view; his high and cultivated intellect drawing out novel hero, to have grown cold, sarcastic, haughty, the hidden treasures of hers, and his early ripened misanthropic; but he very wisely did no such thing. judgment guiding her, until she awoke from the A good motherthat guardian angel of a boys life vague, idle dreanis of girlhood unto a better and had better traimmed her fhtherless amid only son. brighter life. Yet all this while no words of love Philips mind and primmeiples were too well regulated passed between them. for one blast of misfortune to wither the flo~vers, For weeks, months, their life was a long dream and cause ill weeds to spring up rampant in the of happiness, so sweet, that neither thought of the garden of his heart. That heart was disappointed, waking. By slow degrees the truth dawned on but not chilled or snored; he did not scorn or rail Philip Armytage, and he knew that he, over whose at the world, but strove, like a trme hero, to brave heart light fancies before had swept like a summer its frowns, and wait patiemitly until his own firm wind, itow loved, for the first time, with his whole will and endurance should earn for him what for- heart and soul. And who was the object of this tune had denied. Philip Armytage was not perfect passionate love? A blind girl, whose helplessness who on earth ever was? but his foibles never made her only the dearer; for what is so sweet to proud man as the sense of protection? Often when Philip sat and listened to her voice, or looked on her fragile loveliness, as she clung to his guiding arm, he felt that if he could only take her in his hearts core, and shield her there from every breath of sor- row, what bliss it would be! And then he remem- bered himselfpoor, friendless as he was, how dared he love her! And so his lips were sealed. Had Philip Armytage guessed that Stella would learn to love him, he would have flown from the spot rather than thus have brought sorrow upon her. He was too honorable, knowing his own pov- erty, to steal into a girls heart, whose hand he hoped not to claim. Stella was so different from any woman he had ever met; her manner towards him was so frank, so open, with not a shadow of disguise in her simple, truthful soul, that Philip thought she regarded him only as a friend, and never by one word did he overstep the limits of that friendship. And Stella, in her unworldly and inno- cent nature, had deceived herself likewise. It was not until he catne to tell her that he must soon depart with the noble lord who hired his services, that Stella knew how dearly she loved Philip Ar- mytage. But with that knowledge came thronging a host of maidenly feelingsnot pride, nor yet shame why should she blush, that in loving him she had loved goodness, and talent, and everything that onnobles man but painful reserve and sadness, which must now be hidden from sight. How little the poor blind girl knew how to conceal aught! Yet, in a few hours of anguish, she learned more than in her whole life, and when Philip came next day to bid her adieu, he was almost startled by the change in her. The wavering color on her cheek had settled into a deadly paleness; and there was a womanly calmness in her manner, but not the girl- ish freedom of old. A wild thought of sweet agony shot through Philips braindid she then love him But no; there was no tremulousness in the lip, no blush, no tear. It could not he. They talked long and calmly of his proposed journeyof Italy, whither lie was going, of the time passed here so pleasantly, of the chances how and where they might again meet. I shall hear of you, sometimes, said Philip, in that old, old parting sentence, and you will think of me now and then, Stella? It was at her own particular wish that he had called her by her sweet Christian name. Yes, answered Stella, I shall not forget how many dull hours you have made pleasant; I shall ever remember your kindness, your pity, to one like me. You pain me by speaking thins, Philip said, after a pause, during which his heart beat so vio- lently that he vainly tried to make his voice seem calm. I am sorry; then I will say no more about myself, and only thank you very much for all you have been to me, returned Stella, with something of her smile of old. Philip Armytage rosehe lingered over the last adieu. He held her hand and looked at her as if to imprint every feature of that beautiful face in his memory. Alas for the blind girl, who could not see what a world of love was revealed in his gaze! With a voice, whose tremulousness went to Stellas very heart, he said, Farewell! lifted her hand half- way to his lips, and relinquished it without the so- longed-for kiss, and departed. 53 I He had scarcely crossed the threshold when he remembered Mr. Brandreth, whose cold but always courteous welcome had never failed him, and surely merited some adieu. Philip returned; he had riot meant to seek Stella again, for her silent farewell had pained him, but he heard a low wailing in the room where he had left her, and came near. There, weeping with a passionate vehemence that shook her slight frame, knelt the blind girl, her head bowed, and her hands tightly clasped together. My mothermy Philipboth goneI am all alone now, she murmured in accents of thrilling sorrow. Philip forgot everything except that he loved and was beloved. He darted forward and knelt beside her. No, not alone, my Stellastar of my lifemy only beloved, he cried, lavishing upon her the passionate epithets that love teaches. I will never leave you, my hearts darlingmy beautiful more to me than all the world ! he continued, while his arms encircled his treasure, and she trembling, almost doubting the joyful certainty, could only weep. He asked her why she did so. Because I am unworthy of youI, so ignorant so young, and blind. I will be your eyes, my dearest! cried the lover, kissing the blue-veined lids that drooped over those poor sightless orbs, as with the most tender and earnest assurances, he told Stella allhow her sweetness and child-like simplicity had awakened his deepest lovehow he had struggled against it, and, finally, how he had found out his error, and was resolved, in despite of ill-fortune, pride, poverty, to ask her for his own. And so they plighted their faith one to the other; the blind girl and her lover. One houralmost one momenthad changed their fate through life. Philip Armytage went home full of deep thought. His step was firmer, his carriage loftier, for he felt that he was no longer a lonely manhe was the guardian of anothers happinessthe object of womans priceless love. lIe had not only to think of himself, but of her who trusted himwho placed her fate in his keeping. Since yesterday, his whole thoughts were changed; even his worldly prospects seemed brighter now that Stella loved him, and that his fortunes might one day he linked with hers. Poverty looked dim in the distance; he felt a proud consciousness of his own powers; it seemed that he could brave all thingsdo all things, if Stella might one day be his wife. The glamor of love overspread all he looked upon; and with these delicious feelings, Philip Armytage, before he slept, sat down, and wrote a letter to Mr. Bran- dreth, asking Stelias hand. It was refused The father, though not unkind, was firm. I-Ic regretted his own error in not hay- ing foreseen the end of such a friendship, and cour- teously, but resolutely, refused to sanction a mar- riage or even betrothal, so wild and imprudent. The lover read the cold, the formal epistle through twice, before he comprehended it clearly; it came like ice upon fire. The sensible, right- minded Philip Armytage was still under the influ- ence of that sweet, bewildering love-dream. Yet, there the words werefreezing and plain that a man. without riches should never be the husband of Stella Brandreth. His spirit sank within him; he covered his face, and the burning tears, so sel- dom wrung from manhood, stole through his fingers. How well he loved the poor blind girl! Night found him still pacing his chamber ia PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS LOVE. PHILIP ARiWYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS LOVE. utter desolation of heart. Then he yearned once more to look upon the face of her he loved. He longed to tell Stella that he had not forsaken her that he would never love any hut her. Under cover of darkness he stole to her homecrept along the grass to the window of the room where he and Stella had so often sat; the light, through the half-drawn curtains, showed him that she was there and alone. From the deep sadness of her face and attitude he guessed that she knew all. Philip touched the windowit was a little way open, and in a moment he stood by her side. Long and mournful was the conference between the two; hut when Philip spoke of his departure for Italy, the girls sorrow amounted almost to agony. PhilipPhilip, do not leave me, she cried, imploringly I was so desolate before you came; you only brought light and joy to the poor blind girl. No one has loved me but you, since my mother died. Philip, I shall die too, if I lose you. Forsake me nottake me with you; as your wife I shall fear nothingshall regret nothing. Poor Stella! she knew so little of the world, and she was so younghardly more than a child in years, and a child in simplicity. All that she felt was the anguish of losing him who was the only one who made life precious to her. She clung around his neck, and besought him to stay, in spite of her fatherof every one. Bitter, indeed, was the struggle in the young mans bosom; but the right triumphed at last. He would not commit so grievous a sin as to bring sor- row and poverty on the innocent creature who trusted him, by wedding her against her father~s will. Stella, dearest, he said, you do not know what you askwe must part for a while. There never comes a blessing on disobedience; and God forbid that I should be the one to steal a child from her fathers arms, even if I loved her as my hearts bloodand thus love I you, my own Stella. A deep flush of wumanly shame crussed the girls face. She drew herself from her lovers arms, and stood upright. I have been wrong, PhilipI have forgotten what I owe to myself, to my father, to you; for- give meI am very ignorarnyou are wiser and better than I. Forget all this, and only remember that I am blind and lonely, with no one to love me but you. Go, you are right; I will strive to be content in thinking how little I deserved to be loved so well by one like you. Philip used all the sweet language of a lover, to sooth and cheer her. He told her that he would struggle for life and death, to gain that wealth which would enable him to win herthat she was so youngthat nothing was impossible to love, and it might only be a few years before he could boldly come and claim his bride. I ask no promise, but I trust your love, my Stella; you will notdoubt mine? Never, never, murmured the girl. But I need not say farewell now; you will come once more? she added, trembling. Philip promised, for his patron would remain yet a week. He clasped his beloved wildly to his heart, leaped through the window, and was gone. For an hour he haunted the place, until he saw Stella at the window; the lamp showed him her face, pale, sad, and composed; she stayed a mo- ment to breathe the cool night air, and then turned away. It was his last vision of the beautiful blind girl. When, a few days after, Philip came again to the house where he had been so welcome, it was deserted; the Englishman and his daughter had gone, no one knew whither. CHAPTEfl IV. How happy is he horn and taught That serveth not anothers will Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill. This man is freed from servile hands, Of hope to rise, or fear to fall, Lord of himself; tho not of lands, And having nothing, yet hath all. Sia HENnv WOTTOH. PHILIP ARMYTAGE went to Italy, a weary- hearted, disappointed man. He had lovedhe loved still; the life of love was over; yet its mem- ory was as a sweet pcrfume, that would not depart. No true, earnest, pure love can ever be utterly in vain. Such a love is rarely placed on an unworthy object; and the mere act of loving hallows and elevates the soul. If death takes away the desire of the eyes, who shall repine at having loved, and made life sweet by that love, while it lasted? If, more hard to bear still, comes earthly separation from the belovednay, even falsehoodstill the poor lonely one has not loved in vain. Why do poets rave about unhappy love? There is no un- happiness in love, if it he sinless. The stricken heart has shed its odors like a flower; if they are wasted or cast aside, it is sadbut still they have not heen poured out in vain, they have perfumed the air around, and the flower has lived amid the incense it made. Again we say, nO man or woman, who loved truly, ever loved in vain. And Philips love for Stella was not in vain; it purified his heart; it taught him his own strength; it nerved to energy a spirit that might otherwise have yielded to apathy. In the thorny path of life, even the strong-minded Philip Armytage might have sunk in despair but for that poor little way- side flower which had brightened his way, if only for a time. Love for a virtuous woman is mans best armor against sin, his strongest spur to exer tion; and thus, when Philip awoke from his dream of love, he determined resolutely to gain the reality of it. He saw that to saunter lazily through life, as the dependent of a great man, would not be the wayto win him his Stella; that he must strive to enter some profession that might give him wealth and a position in society. Yet how, without means of support, was he to attain this end? How live while he was studying, how bear the expenses of study Many a time did he ponder over this, until he was nigh unto despair. There was but one chance, and to that he bent his proud spirit. A greater testimony could not be given to the intense love which animated him to exertion, for her sake who had awakened it. Philip Armytage came to England, and, unin- vited, crossed the threshold of the uncle whose de- light he had been in boyhood, and from whom he had parted a year before, if not in anger, at least in coolness; the result of suffering on the one hand, and conscious injustice on the other. He did what will at once stamp him as no hero of romance, but yet what was, in itself, the greatest heroism, as it cost him the severest struggle of his life. He asked humbly, and as a favor, that his uncle would, 54 PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRL S LOVE. out of his abundant wealth, supply him with a pit- tance while he studied for the bar, pledging himself, if he lived, to return the loan. Sir Philip Heathcote was not a man of deep feelings, yet he perceived at once how violently those of his nephew were agitated while making this request. He took his hand kindly, almost deprecatingly, for it seemed to him that his dead sister looked at him out of her sons eyes, re- proaching him for the caprice which had brought Philip so low. Tell me, first, why you are thus anxious to be- come a barrister, my dear boy? said the old man to him. The endearing expression, and somewhat of the Jove of former days, melted away all Philips lin- gering pride. He told his uncle why he wished advancement in the world, for the sake of one beloved. It is foolishvery foolish; a girl so young, and blind too! What sort of a wife will she make, think you, for a man who must struggle with the world l said the cautious uncle. Philips pride once more rose up in his heart. I only asked if you will show me this kindness; if not, I will depart, he replied coldly. I must consider, Sir Philip was about to say, still doubtful, when the rustle of silks announced the old mans young, beautiful, worldly wife, and he hastily grasped his nephews hand, whispering Not a word, Philip, you shall have all you wish ! There was much good in the old baronet after all. Philip entered on his new career. It was one from which, in his early days of academic honors, and literary pleasures, he would have shrunk in disgust, as being wearisome and dull; but he had now a great end to gain, and he heeded not how uninviting was the path that led towards it. Month after month he pored over dusty law folios, until his brain grew heated and weary; but then between him and the page would float Stellas face, with the long lashes cast down, and the sweet lips that trembled with every change of feeling, as rose- petals with the breath of the breeze. In the day- time, when mingling with the hurrying scenes of the life he had chosen, that image grew fainter; but when at night he closed his eyes, and his spirit retired within itself, deep in his hearts core did Philip cherish the memory of Stella. As months, years flew on, and no tidings reached him, this memory became like a dream. He had no clue whereby to trace her, and even if he had, what could it have availed Still, though hope grew less, it never utterly failed him; he could not but think that he should meet her again one day, and no other love ever came to render him forgetful of that which he bore towards her. Thus Philip Armytage went on his way, until his brave spirit had conquered all difficulties; and, no longer a dependent on his uncles kindness, he took his stand among those whose eloquence and talents made them renowned in the land. How was the boyish dreamer changed, and become the thoughtful, high-hearted man, before whose intel- lect the wisest bowed, and upon whose eloquent tongue the learned and unlearned, the rude and the gentle, hung spell-bound with equal delight! No shallow sophistry, no underhand double-dealing ever sullied the lips or disgraced the actions of Philip Armytage; he ever stood forward for truth and justice. He showed the dignity of the law, and his strong, clear mind was never warped by meanness or prejudice. And not alone at the bar did his fame make its way; but his fine intellect blossomed anew in the sunshine of good fortune. His darling dream from his boyhood was realizedhe became an author. The voice of the poet went forth like a trumpet, sounding aloud for the just and right cause; men listened to it, and womans lips grew eloquent in praise of the noble spirit that was ever on the side of truth and mercy. His songs went through the length and breadth of the land, to prove what the true poet ought to benut the idle rhymer, the visionary sentimentalist, but the teacher of all high things, the voice of God to mankind, leading them to a purer life, and himself showing the way. The man of genius stands forth as the high priest of Divinity itself, before whom it befits him to offer up, not only the first-fruits of his intellect, but the continued sweet savor of a life high and pure, and in accordance with the lore he teaches. He should realize his own ideal, and be what he strives to de- lineate. And thus, amidst fame and high fortune, was Philip Armytage the eloquent upholder of vir- tue, the scorner of vice, the earnest, music-breath- ing poet, the noble man. CHAPTER V. In the unruffled shelter of thy love, My hark leaped homewards from a rugged sea, And furled its sails, and dropped right peacefully Hopes anchor, quiet as a nested dove. LOWELL. AMONG the many whose society was pleasant to Philip Armytage, as his was to them, stood fore- most an aged couple, who, united late in life, spent their childless old age in pleasing themselves with all that was good and beautiful around. Mrs. Lyle was one of those few women who know how to grow old gracefully, and are as winning and lovely in their decay as the twilight of a summer evening fading into the gray oi~ night. None of the sourness and cold-heartedness of age was in her gentle nature; she did not turn away from the young and ardent, but rather clung to them, and encouraged them. She loved all that was beauti- ful; she filled her pretty home with pictures, and statues, and books, so that to enter it was like com- ing into a sweet garden of fancy, in which the con- tinual perfume of a g-raceful and elegant mind per- vaded all things. And about this pleasant home moved its gentle possessor, with her low voice, her kind manner, and her face still beautiful even in age, from the sweet expression it wore. Hither she welcomed many of those who were rising or risen in art and literature, rejoicing with the fortunate, cheering the doubtful, encouraging the struggling, .and sympathizing with all, and with none more than with Philip Armytage. One day the young barrister came thither, to see Mrs. Lyle. The gentle old lady was in her flower- garden; she loved her flowers so much, as indeed she loved everything in which was a shadow of the beautifuland Philip was shown into an inner room, where she received her favorite guests. A pleasant, cheerful room it was; with its antique furniture, its crimson walls, from which looked the sweet heads of Raffaclle, and the soft-eyed Madon- nas of Guido, beside the pure outlines of Flaxmans marble baa-reliefs, with its painted windows, through which the sunlight struggled quaintly, giving an air of dreaminess and mystery to the whole. Philip Armytage half entered, but stayed his feet, for the room was not unoccupied. At the further end, a lady sat reading. From her slight but rounded 55 PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS LOVE. figure she seemed in the meridian of womanhood; her face was turned away, but Philip looked in ad- miration at the graceful outline of her cheek, and her Grecian shaped head, round which soft golden hair was hraided, contrasting with the mourning- dress she wore. Wondering who she could he, he came nearer; she turned round, half-bending in acknowledgment to a stranger, and Philip looked upon the face of his early love. Yes! it was, indeed, Stella, but how changed! the fairy girl was matured in the dignified woman, and those sweet blue eyes, sight- less no longer, coldly met his own, without recog- nizing Philip Armytage. A chill crept over him; he, who a day before would have flown to clasp her to his bosom, now stood spell-bound by her presence, as if she had been a vision from the dead. Have you forgotten me? at last burst from his quivering lips. At the sound of his voice she started, glanced wildly towards him; her cheek grew marble-white, and then crimson. Have you forgotten me, Stella ?forgotten Philip Armytage ~ and he took her hand. Nonono ! cried the girl, as she clasped it in both hers, and looked eagerly in his face. In a moment Philips arms were round her, and his long-lost, long-beloved one wept joyful tears upon his breast. And do you indeed remember me still, Philip ~ asked Stella, with a doubtful look in her eyes. Have all these years brought no change? It is you who are changed, my beloved, Philip answered, gazing earnestly at her. An expression of rapturous joy irradiated Stellas face. Yes! I am not now as when you knew me I am no longer blind. They sat down together, hand in hand, and talked of all that had happened since they parted. Stella told her lover how, after their forced separation, months had glided into years, and still she heard no tidings of him; how she and her father at last returned to England, where the skill of an eminent oculist restored to her the light of day, and all the delights of a world so long shut out from her. Thus her girlhood stole into womanhood, and she entered into society, still keeping faithful to the memory of her early dream, dim and hopeless as it had now become. Then Stella spoke of her father of his increased kindness, which had continued until his death. Her high-spirited brother had gone to India, and she was now all alone, save for the sister of her motherthe gentle-hearted Mrs. Lyle. All this Philip learned, in return for his own tale of faithful love. But Stella, with womans reserve, did not tell him how entirely the thought of him had engrossed her whole soul; that by night and by day his name was in her heart; his voice in her ear; that she existed but in that one idea, through months and years of absence, during which she knew not if he ever once remembered her. She did not tell him how, when his fame in- creased, it reached even to her, and her womans heart swelled with pride at having loved and been loved by one so worthy; how she lived for days on the delight of having read his name, or heard him spoken of by strangers with words of praise; how she hung over his writings, and traced there the ripe harvest of mind which she had known in its early luxuriance; and how at times came the wild yearning to see him once more, and to know if in the memory of the honored man of genius lin- gered one thought of the blind girl he had once loved, and who returned that love with such pas- sionate devotion, though it was buried in the depths of her inmost heart. This sweet communion was broken by the entrance of Mrs. Lyle; but all was soon revealed to her, and she rejoiced with almost a mothers joy over the happiness of the two whom she loved so well. Once more Philip and Stella renewed their early vows; there was now no impediment to their union, save in that lingering pride which made the lover shrink from receiving from his wife those worldly riches with which it would have been his delight to load her. But the young barrister was still poor, and Stella was an heiress. When Philip spoke of this, she answered with the loving dignity of a woman, who, with her heart, gives her all--- Do you remember, Philip, years ago, when I was a wild, foolish girl, I besought you to take me as your wife, and you nobly refused to bring sorrow upon me in return for my love? I am now a woman, wiser, I trust, and more worthy of you, though still most humble compared to Philip Armytage. But such as I am, take me, and all that is mine; I count it as nothing when I think of the bliss of being be- loved by one like you. And now the betrothed lovers entered on that sweet time when the doubt and fear of love is over, and the two heart-united ones stand on the thresh- old of wedded life, and look forward to the future as an endless vista of pleasant paths, to be trodden together. How sweet were the long summer even- ings when Philip left weary, dull, dusty London behind him, and came to Mrs. Lyles cottage at Hampstead, that prettiest of pretty spots, which, but for its metropolitan prestige, would be thought a very Arcadia! It was very pleasant to Philip and Stella to stroll along the green lanes between Hamp- stead and Highgate, and talk of their old favorites who had loved these very spotsthe young dreamer, Keats, and Coleridge, the philosopher-poet, and Shelley, the gentle-hearted, whose life was a long sunbeam of love and poetry. And when they came home, there was Mrs. Lyle, ever ready to welcome them with her quiet smile; and then there was some book to be read, over which the good-natured, but less ethereally inclined- friend dozed in sweet oblivion; or else Stella sang to her lover the dear old songs, of which she had not forgotten onenot even the one which he had first listened to in the gay soiree, when sang by the blind English maiden. Day by day Stellas character unfolded itself more to her betrothednot as the sweet, innocent girl whose helplessness had entwined her round the heart of the strong man, in spite of her half-formed mind, so inferior to his own, with a tie in which compassion had awakened love; but as the matured, high-souled woman, whose ripened, cultivated powers made her a help-meet for the man of intellect. Philip Army- tage did not know how much of this was owing to himself. A womans character in after-life often, nay, almost always, takes its nature from that of her first lovenot her first crude girlish fancy, but the one who first unsealed the fountain of womans feelings. She becomes like him she lo.ves; her thoughts andpredilections take their hue from his; if she weds him, their union is thus made sweeter by sympathy; if not, however her lot may be cast, she never entirely ceases to be influenced by those feel- ings which he first created and guided. Thus had Stella loved one of inferior mind, she would never PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS S LOVE. have become what she was now, her nature would have sank to his, and many of its hidden treasures would have lain dormant forever. But though hardly a trace remained of the unde- veloped character of the blind girl, Stella still pre- served the pure simplicity and meekness which had distinguished her then. She was still as humble- minded, as devoted to him she loved, hardly bestow- ing a thought on her surpassing beauty and her many attractions, except so far as they made her more precious to him and more worthy to be his wife. And such was the bride whom, ere the leaves of autumn had fallen to earth, Philip Army- tage took to his home and to his heart, a treasure long wooed, long sighed-for, at last won! CHAPTER vi. Their sky was all glory; but a cloud sailed into it; there was lightning in its bosom and it broke.BER- NARD. WE have seen the blind girl as a child, a young maiden, a woman in the pride of her loveliness; let us now behold her as a wife, no longer the idol of a lovers dream, but the sharer of his lifethe joy, the comfort of her husbands home. We would fain describe her, but the words float from our pen, and glide away into poesyinto that sweetest pic- ture of woman that ever dawned on poets brain. Stella was A creature not too bright and good For human natures daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. * * * * A being breathing thoughtful breath A traveller betwixt life and death; A perfect woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a spirit, still and bright, And something of an angel light. After this, what can we say but that Philip Ar- mytage had, in truth, an angel in the house. Rare, very rare, are such in this world; but we have known some, and others, doubtless, have done the same. Alas! that while they were walking with us we knew them not, until they had spread their invisible wings and flown to heaven! The home of Philip Armytage was one in which the world may see that poesy can hallow daily life, and that the glorious light of genius is not incom- patible with the subdued, delicious glow of the do- mestic fire-side. A man of talent is like a beacon set on a hill, exposed to every wind of heaven, and to the gaze of innumerable eyes, eagerly watching lest its light should be extinguished. If it flutter or wane for a moment, like any other common fire, up rises the cry of a hundred voices, and a hundred hands are lifted to quench the unworthy beacon. God help the man of genius! he walks through a road that is full of snares, more, and deeper, for him than for men of less exalted minds and less sen- sitive natures; and all these set up a rejoicing shout if he only stumble. Yet it is not impossible to tread the path in safety; many strive thus to walk, and all honor to those whose life proves that men may glory at once in a lofty intellect and a blame- less and pure heart. Such an one approaches near- est to that ideal of humanitywhich all shall, we trust, one day attainwhen mind and matter shall no longer strive together, and we become only a little lower than the angels. Philip Armytage lived this life, as near as man can do on earth. He brought the treasures of his lofty intellect to brighten his home; he did not relinquish his profession, but he adorned it with the refinements of a gifted mind. He had none of the vagaries of the poet; he did not consider that gen- ius must necessarily be eccentric, and no one would have thought that the clear-headed, sensible man, whose courteous and winning manners were the or- nament of the intellectual society which he collected round him in his well-ordered home, or the gentle affetionate husband, who read and talked cheerfully to his wife, during the long winter evenings, was the same high-souled poet, whose brilliant imagination made his writings worshipped by some, and won- dered at by others. When the long, pleasant, summer-days came again, Philip and Stella took the wings of the dove, and fled away for a time to a home far down in the country, the same where Stellas mournful childhood had been spent, and which was now left half desolate in the absence of its present owner, Edmund Brandreth. The happy wife of Philip Armytage trod, with her husband by her side, all those forest walks where the lonely blind girl had once wandered, and the contrast made her, if pos- sible, happier still. Life was to the young pair an enchanted dream of such deep joy that their hearts trembled under the burthen, like flowers heavy with much dew. Young, rich, with minds gifted to behold and enjoy, to the full, all that was beauti- ful, and hearts that seemed as one in close and lov- ing union ;what had they more to desire Some- times a light shadow of fear would flit over them a sort of vague doubt that as night comes after day, so grief ever follows happiness. But then love chased the dim phantom away with its angel wings. It had been a long season of drought, so that the very grass was parched in the meadows, the birds became almost mute, and fled to the deepest shades of the vast forest. Very grateful now was the thick wood, whose verdant recesses formed the only relief from the insupportable heat. Every evening Stella and her husband took their pleasant ramble together, from twilight until the stars came out; the young wife adding to every beautiful sight and sound by her deep sense of enjoyment, while Philips noble mind invested all things with a halo of poesy, so that to walk with him was to walk with a magician, who unveiled the inner life of nature. One evening they went out together as usual, but did not pass beyond the lawn, for twilight brought with it the tokens of a coming storm. Dark, vapor-fringed cumuli rose up oer the bed of the departing orb, shutting out all the lovely purple and gold of a September sunset, and growing thicker and blacker, until they reached mid heaven, covering the pale moon, that in her feeble age followed quickly after the fading light. A heavy stillness succeededa darkness that ~might be felt, oppressing both mind and body with a dull weight. Let us go in, said Stella, as she leaned wearily upon her husbands arm; see, the storm is coming nearer; and look! there is a flash. It is only summer lightning, Philip answered. But come, dear, we will go within doors, and watch it from the window, it is so beautiful. They went in, and stood watching the storm. Stella felt no fear, for her husband wits beside her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and felt his arm encircle her, and thus they looked on the gathering clouds, and the brilliant flashes of sheet 57, PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRLS LOVE. lightning that momently illumined the whole heav- ens, and made the dark woods as bright and dis- tinct as in broad daylight. Even when the heavy drops began to fall, and a low rumbling of thunder was heard in the distance, they did not turn away, for the minds of both were of too high an order to experience that weak sorrow which makes the feeble shrink from that grandest and most beautiful sighta thunder-storm at night. You are not afraid, my dearest? asked the husband. No, Philip, answered Stella. I like to watch a storm coming on. I feel a kind of awful delight, as though I were drawn nearer to heaven, and heard the voice of God in the thunder. I have no fear, except that I would ever have those I love beside me as now. Philip pressed his wife nearer to him with a smile. Now you are quite safe, love. Yes, with you. I remember the first storm I ever watched, after my sight was restored. It was here at this very window. I was foolish, my Philip, I know, but I could not turn my thoughts from you. I wondered where you wereif you were safe; and though dreading no danger for myself, I yet felt a shuddering fear lest harm should come to you. Now I have you with me, my own husband. Foreverforever, cried Philip, stooping over her with intense love, my Stella, my As he spoke, a dazzling, blinding flash enveloped them in one sheet of lurid flame; then came a burst of thunder, so long and loud, that it seemed as if the heavens were falling. But the husband and wife heard it not. They both lay insensible, Philips arm still clasping his beloved. Philip Ar- mytage woke to consciousness, and found Stella still lying motionless. Her eyes were fixed and open; her features white and livid, while her arm still twined round his neck, as cold and heavy as stone. He uttered one cry of agonized despair, and then a desperate calmness came over him. He felt her heart; a faint pulse was still beating there. He lifted her hand; it did not fall down again, but remained stiffly extended. She was not dead, but remained in a trance if possible more fearful still than death. All that night, the next day, and throughout another horrible night, did Philip hang over his in- sensible wife. No skill could wake her from her terrible repose; she lay immovable, breathing faintly, but not a tinge of life was on her marble- like face, and the glare of her open eyes was fear- ful to behold. Philip tried to close them, but the eyelids shrank back again from the dilated pupils. He covered them with a veil, for he could not bear to see the horrible expression they gave to the beautiful face he loved so much. When the second day was at its meridian, Philip thought he saw her breast heave, a faint hue dyed her white lipsthey moved; and with a wild cry he clasped his wife in his arms, and strove to rejini- mate those pale lips with kisses. Philip, she murmured faintly, I thought I was dead. You are livinghere in my arms, my beloved my hearts treasure, cried the husband, almost weeping with joy. Ah, I remember the storm; it is all over now. It is night; but why have you put out the lamp? I cannot see you, love. Philip shuddered at her words, for the room was flooded with the golden light of noon. He looked at Stellas eyes; their expression revealed the awful truth; the lightning had struck her, and she was once more hopelessly blind. CHAPTER vii. Go not away Iyet ah, dark shades I see Obscure thy browthou goest! but give thy hand; Must it be so 7Then goI follow thee; Yes! unto deathunto the Silent Land. FazDaumA BREMEB. STELLA awoke from that thunder-stricken trance unto darkness that no human power could hence- forth sweep awaythose sweet eyes were now blind forever. Meekly, as became her nature, did she bow beneath the stroke, but Philip writhed under it in insupportable agony. Stellas health slowly recovered, and she rose up from her bed of sickness, and once more wandered about the house, pale, pensive, but still calm. Then burst forth her husbands wild despair. His frantic words some- times reached almost to imprecations. He wished that the terrible lightning-flash had struck him dead, rather than that he should live to see this wreck of his happiness. His whole nature seemed changed; the gentle, upright, pious-hearted Philip Armytage was all but a maniac in his wild despair. But Stella seemed to have gained all the firmness which he had lost. Patient, unrepining, she was to him like a guardian angel, soothing and cheering him, as if he had been the stricken one, and she the consoler. He would take her away, to try all that metropolitan skill could effect, and to amuse her, as he thought, with every enjoyment that London could furnish. But Stella knew it was hopeless; and though she submitted, to please her husband, still it was not long before her health failed in the close air of the city, and Philip bore her again to her native home. There the soft spring breezes once more brought faint roses to the cheek of the blind wife, and hope, almost joy, stole back again to her heart, for she knew that heart would soon throb with the pulses of a mothers love. Again life became sweet to her, and a little of her cheerfulness communicated itself to Philips melancholy spirit. In his wifes presence he grew more calm, and for her sake he returned to those pursuits which, in the first burst of wild agony, he had vowed to relinquish forever. He read to her, as of old; he wrote poetry, because it pleased her; he no longer shrank from the pleas- ant sunshine, because she could behold it no more; but spent whole days in guiding her steps through the forest, describing everything he saw with the eloquence of love. Do you remember once when you said, I will be your eyes, dearest? Stella one day whispered to him; and now you are so, my Philip ! you make me see with your eyes. Philip groaned, Hush, hush, I cannot bear it. Nay, nay, look at me; I am not sad; indeed, Philip, you do not know how happy I am. If I were now, as I once waslonely, helpless, with no one to love meI might indeed lament; but with you for my husband, ever with me , giving up all for me, with the knowledge that my infirmity only proves how strong is your love, how can I murmur? My own Philip; you are the light of my eyes; there is no darkness for me when you are by. And Philip could only press her to his heart, and weep. But though when her husband was by, SteIla appeared contented and cheerful1 and indeed was 58 PHILIP ARMYTAGE; OR, THE BLIND GIRL S LOVE. so, yet there were times when she felt bitterly the deprivation of all those pleasures which had become so dear to her. She longed to behold that beauti- ful world which had been revealed to her sight, only to be shut out again forever; and more than all did she yearn to look once more upon the face of her husbandto watch it kindling into genius, until it became, to her at least, as the face of an angel. She knew, by the tones of his voice, when it wore that look, and then her heart sank to think that she must see it no more forever. At times, too, when in her darkness she was attiring herself, or arrang- ing her long auburn hair, a natural sigh would escape her at the memory of the days in which her unsealed eyes first discovered that she was beauti- ful; and a throb of pleasure came to her heart at the thought that she was thereby more worthy of the long absent, but well-beloved one. Then, too, Stella would turn from the past to the dim future, and sometimes even weep that she would never behold the face of her childthat the blind mother would not trace, in its opening beauty, a likeness to the features most dear to her. And then, with these mother-thoughts, came memories of her own lost parent, in solemn sweetness leading her from earth to heaven. Thus the time wore on; Philips anguish was lulled by happy hopes for the future, and Stellas brow wore a holy calmness. One only, an aged woman, who had nursed her in her infancy, shook her head as she looked mournfully on the changing cheek and transparent hands; she knew well that the mysteries of the coming birth alone kept away the dread phantom, whose shadow already hung over the blind mother. The hour of trial came; it brought a moments joy, and then the gloom of despair. In a few days, the faint wailing cry of the young spirit which had entered this world of care was hushed; and silently, slowly, the mother was following her babe to heaven. No earthly power could save her, and Philip knew it. As still and speechless as her whose life was ebbing away on his bosom, the husband waited for death to take his treasure from his arms. Stella lay in the heavy slumber which a temporary delirium had left behind. She did not even know on whose anguish-riven bosom her head rested. Once only she spoke like one dreaming. I see herthere, there, with white garments. Mother, I am coming; only let me bid him farewell. And her lips closed, murmuring Philips name. An hour before death her senses returned. She bade Philip kiss her, then whispered faintly I am content, my husband, my beloved! You will come, too, soon, oh! soon. There is no darkness there. She felt for his hand, laid it on her heart, and spoke no more. Death stole over that gentle one, not with gloom and sorrow, but with the peaceful shadows of a childs rosy sleep. * * * * * * * Let us pause for a moment to think of Death Death, as he comes in the midst of life, and youth, and love, when the world is yet sweet, and the journey has been too short for the limbs to grow weary. Yet, even so; blessed are they who never know the burthen and heat of the day! To them the Dread Presence comes as a white-winged angel, ere they have time to invest him with shadows that are alone the creation of mans fearful heart. He comes smiling, to waft them from earths pleas- ures to those which are eternal. It is better to depart while loves roses are blooming, than to linger until they fade. Therefore, blessed are the young who die beloved and loving still! And for those, few in years, but many in sorrows, who have already seen the sun of hope set ere noonwho would keep the poor mourning ones from their rest? Thus let us think of thee, 0 Death! gentle unlooser of. lifes burthen, who foldest thy calm, still arms round the weary frame, and leavest the immortal spirit to rise rejoicing unto God. For months after the death of Stella, the world was a blank to Philip Armytage. His noble mind was a wreck, and if at times glimpses of reason and intellect came, like wandering meteors through the ruins, they only showed more plainly the mournful desolation around. One soft womans voice, and gentle womans hand had power over him in his wildest moods; they were those of Mrs. Lyle. Many thought that his brain had never re- covered from the fearful lightning-stroke, so that any great sorrow was sure to overthrow reason for- ever. But the love which had suffered so much, and then been riven by death, was cause sufficient. Rarely do men love to such intensity, but when they do, it is a fearful thing. After a long season, Philips mind awoke from its sleep. With declining health came restored reason. He lost that delusion, which had constantly haunted him, in which lie fancied that the lost one was ever present by his side. It might have been a dream or not; God only knows. If the departed become ministering spirits, as may be, what office would be sweeter to that blessed angel than to watch over and soothe the bewildered mind of him whoni she had so fondly loved on earth? Calmly, with a kind of mournful joy, did Philip Armytage see the world glide from him. Its pleasures were like shadows to him now. He lived near the fatal yet beloved home, whose gloom was now brightened by infant smiles and gay young voices, the children of Edmund Brandreth. These loved to gather round the knees of the pale, but ever-gentle mourner, and hear him talk of her who was goneof her darkened childhood, her happy youth, her sweet- ness, and her suffering; and then they would listen with him to the murmuring of the trees in the old church-yard, the more fanciful of them thinking it was her voice whispering to them in the still even- ing twilight. But when the solitary one had kissed them all, and bade them good night, he would stretch his arms out in the darkness, and cry with a low, yearning voice My Stella, my beloved, let me come to thee. And at length the longing prayer was heard. D. M. M. THAr implicit credulity is the mark of a feeble HAVE patience, oh quiet, hoping heart! What mind, will not be dispuied; but it may not, perhaps, is denied to thee in life, because thou couldst not be as generally acknowledged, that the case is the bear it, the happy moment of death bestows. same with unlimited scepticismStewart. Herder. NATURE has perfections, in order to show that she TRUE humility, the basis of the Christian system, is the image of God; and defects, in order to show is the low, but deep and firm foundation of all real that she is only his imagePascal. virtueBurke. 59 NORTH AMERICAS SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA. From Blackwoods Magazine. NORTH AMERICA~ SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA.* THE circumnavigation of the world is now a matter of ordinary occurrence to our bold mariners; and after a few years it will be a sort of summer excursion to our steamers. We shall have the requisitions of the Travellers Club more stringent as the sphere of action grows wider; and no man will be eligible who has not paid a visit to Pekin, or sunned himself in Siam. But a circuit of the globe on terra firma is, we believe, new. Sir George Simpson will have no competitor, that we have ever heard, to claim from him the honor of having first galloped right a-head from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Pacific to the British Channel. One or two slight divergencies of some thousand miles down the smooth and sunny bosom of the Pacific, are to be reckoned as mere episodes; but Sir George soon recovers his course, plunges in through the regions of the polar star; defies time, trouble, and Tartary; marches in the track of tribes, of which all but the names have expired; follows the glories of con- querors, whose bones have mingled five hundred years ago with the dust of the desert; gives a fly- ing glance on one side towards the wall of China, and on the other towards the Arctic Circle; still presses on, till he reaches the confines of the frozen civilization of the Russian empire; and sweeps along, among bowing governors and pros- trate serfsstill but emerging from barbarism until he does homage to the pomp of the Russian court, and finally lands on the soil of freedom, funds, and the income tax. What the actual object of all this gyration may have been, is not revealed, nor, probably, revealable by a governor of the Hudsons Bay territories, who, having the fear of other governors before his eyes, dedicates his two handsome volumes to The Directors of the Hudsons Bay Company ; but the late negotiations on Oregon, the Russian interest in the new empire rising on the shore of the northern Pacific, the vigorous efforts of Russia to turn its Siberian world into a place of human habitancy, and the unexpected interest directed to those regions by the discovery of gold deposits which throw the old wealth of the Spanish main into the shade, might be sufficient motives for the curiosity of an individual of intelligence, and for the anxious in- quiries of a great company, bordering on two mighty powers in North America, both of them more remarkable for the vigor of their ambition than for the reverence of their hunters and fishers for the jus gentium. Those volumes, tben, will supply a general and a very well conceived estimate of immense tracts of the globe, hitherto but little known to the English public. The view is clear, quick, and discrimina- tive. The countries of which it gives us a new knowledge are probably destined to act with great power on our interests, some as the rivals of our commerce, some as the dep6ts of our manufactures, and some as the recipients of that overflow of popu- lation which Europe is now pouring out from all her fields on the open wilderness of the world. This spread of emigration to the north is a curious instance of the reflux of the human tide; Narrative of an Overland Journey Round the World. By Sir George Simpson, Governor-in-chief of the Hud- sons Bay Companys territories in North America. for, from the north evidently was Europe original- ly peopled. Japhet was a powerful propeller; and often as he has dwelt in the tents of Shem, he is likely to overwhelm the whole territory of the southern brother once more. The Turk, the Egyptian, the man of Asia Minor, the man of Thrace, will yet be but tribes in that army of the new Xerxes which, pouring from Moscow, and im- pelled from St. Petersburg, will renew the invasions of Genghiz and Tamerlane, and try the civilized strength of the west against the wild courage and countless multitudes of Tartary. Into this strange, but important, and prospectively powerful country, we now follow the traveller. Embarking from Liv- erpoolin the Caledonia, a vessel of 1300 tons and 450 horse power, he was amply prepared to face the perils of the most stormy of all oceans, the Atlantic. The run across had the usual fortunes of all voy- ages, and within a week after their departure from terra firma they saw a whale, who saw them with rather more indifference, for he lay lounging on the surface until the steamer had nearly run over him. At last he dived down, and was seen no more Next day, while there was so little wind, that all their light canvass was set, they saw the phenom- enon of a ship under close-reefed topsails. This apparent timidity was laughed at by some of the passengers, but the more experienced guessed that the vessel had come out of a gale, of which they were likely to have a share before long, a conjec- ture which was soon verified. On the morning of the 9th day, the captain dis- covering that the barometer had fallen between two and three inches during the night, due prepa- rations were of course made to meet the storm. It came on in the afternoon, a hurricane. Then fol- lowed the usual havoc of boats and canvass, the surges making a clean breach over the deck; the passengers, of course, gave themselves up for lost, and even the crew are said to have been pretty nearly of the same opinion. However, the wind went down at last, the sea grew comparatively smooth, and in twenty-four hours more, they found themselves on the banks of Newfoundland. The writer thinks that it was fortunate for them that the storm had not caught them in the short swell of these shallow waters, as was probably the case of the President, whose melancholy fate so long excited, and still excites, a feeling of surprise and sorrow in the public mind. It was lost in this very storm. Next day came another of the sea wonders. The cry of land started them all from the dinner table; but the land happened to be an immense field of ice, which, with the inequalities of its surface and the effect of refraction, presented some appearance of a wooded country. On that night the cry of Light a-head, while they were still several hundred miles from land, excited new astonishment. All the know- ing ones clearly distinguished a magnificent re- volver. The paddles were accordingly stopped to have a cast of the lead, but in another half hour it was ascertained that the revolver was a newly risen star. At length land was really seen, and, after a run of fourteen days, they cast anchor in the harbor of Halifax. But as Boston was their true destination they steered for it at once. Their progress had been rapid, for they entered Boston Bay in thirty- six hours from Halifax, a distance of 390 miles. Boston is more English-looking than New York. The gently undulating shores of the bay, highly 60 cultivated, bring to memory the green hills of Eng- land, and within the town the buildings and the in- habitants have a peculiarly English air. As speed was an object, the party immediately left the town by the railway, passing through Lowell and reaching Nashua. This is one of the rapid growths of America. In 1819 this place was a village of hut nineteen houses. It now contains 19,000 inhabitants, with churches, hotels, prisons, and banks. Here the party went off in two detach- ments, one in a sleigh with six horses, and the other rattled along in a coach-and-four. At the next stage the author exchanged the coach for a sleigha matter of no great importance to the world, but which may be mentioned as a caution against rash changes. For the first few miles the new convey- ance went on merrily, and the passengers congratu- lated themselves on their wisdom. We must now let him speak for himself. The sun, as the day advanced, kept thawing the snow, till at last, on coming to a deep drift, we were repeatedly obliged to get out, sometimes walking up to the knees, and sometimes helping to lift the vehicle out of the snow. However, at length we fairly stuck fast, in spite of all our haul- ing and pushing. The horses struggled and plunged to no purpose, excepting that the leaders, after breaking part of their tackle, galloped off over the hills and far away, leaving us to kick our heels in the slush, till they were brought back after a chase of several miles. The road now passed through Vermont, the state 9~ green mountains. The country appeared strik- ing; and Montpelier, where they breakfasted, seems to be a very pretty place, looking more the residence of hereditary ease and luxury, than the capital of a republic of thrifty graziers. It is, in fact, an assemblage of villas; the wide streets run between rows of trees, and the houses, each in its own little garden, are shaded by verandas. In that very pleasant little book, the Miseries of Human Life, one of those small calamities is, the being called at the wrong hour to go off in the wrong coach from a Yorkshire inn. Time and the railroad have changed all this in England, but in America we have the primitive misery well de- scribed. The author, after forty-two hours of hard jolting, goes to bed at one oclock to obtain a little repose, leaving orders to be called at five in the morning. He is wrapt in the profoundest of all possible slumbers, when a peal of blows is heard at his door. In spite, however, of laziness, and a cold morning to boot, he says, I had completed the operations of washing and dressing by candlelight, having even donned hat and gloves, to join my companions, when the waiter entered my room with a grin. I guess, said the rascal, I have put my foot in it. Are you the man that wanted to be called at twoB No, was my reply. Then, said he, I calculate I have fixed the wrong man, so you had better go to bed again. Having deliv- ered himself of this friendly advice, he went to awaken my neighbor, who had all this time been quietly enjoying the sleep that properly belonged to me. Instead of following the fellows recommen- dation, I sat up for the rest of the night. Whether the author possessed a watch we cannot tell, but if he was master of that useful and not very rare article, he might have saved himself his premature trouble, and escaped shaving at midnight. On crossing into the Canadian territory, he en- counters one of those evidences of popular liberty 61 which belong to rather the American than the English side. In the village of St. Johns, some of the party went ahead to the principal inn, and as it was late at night, and their knocking produced no effect, they appealed to what they regarded as the most accessible of the landlords susceptibilities, his pocket, by saying that they were fourteen, more coming, with a whole host of drivers. This appeal was the most unlucky possible, for the land- lord had another sensibility, the fear of being tarred and feathered, if not hanged. On the door being opened at last, the landlord was not to be found; his brother wandered about, the very ghost of de- spair. The establishment was searched upside and downside, inside and outside, in vain; and they be- gan to think themselves the cause of some domes- tic tragedy; but it must have been a late perpetra- tion, for on looking into his bed, they found the lair warm. However, after a short time, mine host re- turned with a face all smiles. The mystery was then explained. The election had taken place during the day, and the landlord, having taken the part of the candidate who eventually succeeded, was threatened with vengeance by the losing party. The arrival of the travellers convinced him that his hour was come, and he had jumped out of bed and hidden himself in some inscrutable corner. But a good supper reconciled everything. The author crossed the ice to Montreal, and had a showy view of the metropolis of the Canadas. A curious observation is suggested by Montreal, on the different characters of the English and French population. In the days of Wolf and Amherst, it was all French; but John Bull, with his spirit of activity and industry, has quietly become master of all the trading situations of the city, while the French have as quietly retreated, and spread them- selves through the upper sections of it, to a great degree cut off from its commercial portions. From Montreal the true travel began. The heavy canoes were sent forward some days before, under the charge of some of the companys officers; the light canoes waited for the author, with Colonel Oldfield, chief engineer in Canada, who was going up the country on a survey of the navigation, and the Earls of Mulgrave and Caledon, who were going to the Red river, buffalo-hunting. All was now ready in form, and on the 4th of May the two canoes were floating on the Lactrine canal. The crews, thirteen to one vessel, and four- teen to the other, were partly Canadians, but prin- cipally Iroquois. Those voyageurs, as they are called, had each been supplied with a feather in his cap, in honor of the occasion, and evidently ex- pected to produce a sensalwri on shore. But a north-wester blowing prevented the hoisting of their flags, which muheted the pageant of much of its in- tended glory. These canoes are thirty-five feet in length, and five feet wide in the centre; drawing about eighteen inches water, aiid weighing between three and four hundred pounds; capitally fitted for a navigation among rocks, rapids, and portages; but they seem .most uncomfortable in rough weather. The waves of the St Lawrence rolled like a sea. the gale was biting, and the snow drifted heavily in the faces of the party. In this luckless condition, we are not surprised at the intelligence, that at St. Annes rapids, notwithstanding the authority of the poet, they sang no evening hymn. This style of travelling was not certainly much mingled with luxury. Next morning, after toil- ing for six hours, they breakfasted, with the NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. wet ground for their table, and with rain in place of milk to cool their tea. On this day, while running close under the falls of the Rideau, they seem to have had a narrow escape from a finale to their voyage; their canoes being swept into the middle of the river, under an immense fall, fifty feet in height. They now learned the art of bivouacking, and after a day of toiling through portages, reserving the severest of them, the Grand Calumet, for the re- newed vigor of the morning, they made ready for the forest night. The description, brief as it is, is one among many which shows the artist eye. The tents were pitched in a small clump of pines, while round a blazing fire the passengers tvere collected, amid a medley of boxes, barrels, cloaks, and on the rock above the foaming rapids were lying the canoes; the men flitting about the fires as if they were enjoying a holiday, and watch- ing a huge cauldron suspended above the fire. The whole with a background of dense woods and a lake. Yet, startling as this wooing of nature in her rough moods may seem to the silk-and-velvet portion of the world, we doubt whether this wild life, with its desperate toil and its ground sleep, may not be the true charm of travel to saint, sav- age, or sage, when once fairly forced to the exper- iment. The blazing fire, the bed of leaves, the gay supper, made gayer still by incomparable appetite, and the sleep after all, in which the whole outward man remains imbedded, without the movement of a muscle and without a dream, until the morning awakes him up a new being, are fully worth all the inventions of art, to make us enjoy rest unearned by fatigue, and food without waiting for appetite. The sleep of the weary man is sweet, said the ancient and wise king who slept among curtains of gold, and under roofs of cedar; the true way to taste that sleep is to spend a day dragging canoes up Indian portages, and lie down with ones feet warmed by a pine blaze, and ones back to the shel- ter of a forest. But, as the time will assuredly come when this life in the woods will be no more, when huge inns will supersede the canopy of the skies, and down beds will make the memory of birch twigs and heather blossoms pass away, we give from authority the proceedings of an evenings rest, which the next generation will study with somewhat of the feeling of reading Tacitus De Moribus Ger- manorum. As the sun approached his setting, every eye in the canoes, as they pulled along, was speculating on some dry and tolerably open spot on the shore. That once found, all were on shore in an instant. Then the axe was heard ringing among the trees, to prepare for the fires, and make room for the tents. In ten minutes, the tents were pitched, the fires blazing in front of each, and the supper preparing in all its diversities. The beds were next made, consisting of an oil-cloth laid on the ground, with blankets and a pillow; occasionally aided by great- coats, ~ discretion. The crews, drawing the canoes on shore, first made an inspection of their hurts during the day; and having done this, the little vessels were turned into a shelter, and each man, wrapping himself in his blanket, defied the weather and the world. But this state of happiness was never destined to last long. About one in the morning, the cry of Leve, leve, broke all slumbers. We must ac- knowledge that the hour seems premature, and that the most patient of travellers might have solicited a couple of hours more of tired natures sweet restorer. But the discipline of the bivouac was Spartan. If the slumberer did not instantly start up, the tent was pulled down about him, and he found himself half-smothered in canvass. However, we must presume that this seldom happened, and, within half an hour, everything would be packed, the canoes laden, and the paddles moving to some merry old song. In this manner passed the day, six hours of rest, to eighteen of labor, a tremendous disproportion, even to the sturdy Englishman or the active Irishman, but perfectly congenial to the sinews and spirit of the gay voyageur. A few touches more giye the complete picture of the day. About eight, a convenient site would be selected for breakfast. Three quarters of an hour being the whole time allotted for unpacking and packing, boiling and frying, eating and drink- ing. While the preliminaries were arranging, the hardier among us would wash and shave, each person carrying soap and towel in his pocket, and finding a mirror in the same sandy or rocky basin which held the water. About two in the afternoon, we put ashore for dinner, and as this meal needed no fire, or, at least, got none, it was not allowed to occupy more than twenty minutes, or half an hour. We recommend the following considerations to the amateur boat clubs, and others, who plume themselves on their naval achievements between Putney and Vauxhall bridges. Let them take the work of a Canadian paddle-man to heart, and lower their plumage accordingly. The quality of the work, even more than the quantity, requires operatives of iron mould. In smooth water, the paddle is plied with twice the rapidity of the oar, taxing both arms and lungs to the utmost extent. Amid shallows, the canoe is literally dragged by the men, wading to their knees or their loins, while each poor fellow, after re- placing his drier half in his seat, laughingly strikes the heavier of the wet from his legs over the gun- wale, before he gives them an inside berth. In rapids, the towing line has to be hauled along over rocks and stumps, through swamps and thickets, excepting that when the ground is utterly imprtc- ticable, poles arc substituted, and occasionally also the bushes on the shore. This however is plain sailing, to the portages, where the tracks are of all imaginable kinds and degrees of badness, and the canoes and their car- goes are never carried across in less than two or three trips; the little vessels alone monopolizing, in the first turn, the more expert half of their re- spective crews. Of the baggage, each man has to carry at least two pieces, estimated at a hundred and eighty pounds weight, which he suspends in slings placed across his forehead, so that he may have his hands free, to clear his way among the branches and standing or fallen trunks. Besides all this, the voyageur performs the part of bridge, or jetty, on the arrival of the canoe at its place of rest, the gentleman passengers being carried on shore on the backs of these good-humored and sin- ew y fellows. F or the benefit of the untravelled, we should say, that a portage is the fragment of land-passage between the foot and head of a rapid, when the rush of the stream is too strong for the tow-rope. At one of the halting-places on Lake Superior, a curious tale was told of the Indians belief in a Providence, of which it had been the scene. Three or four years before, a party of Salteaux, 62 NORTH AMERICA~ SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA. much pressed for hunger, were anxious to reach one of their fishing stations, an island about twenty miles from the shore. The spring had unluckily reached that point when there was neither clear water, nor trustworthy ice. A council was being held, to consider the hard alternatives of drowning and starving, when an old man of influence thus spoke: You know, my friends, that the Great Spirit gave one of our squaws a child yesterday; now, he cannot have sent it into the world to take it away again directly. I should therefore recommend the carrying the child with us, as the pledge of safety. We wish that we could have to record a success- ful issue to this anticipation. But the transit ~vas too much for the metaphysics of the old Indian. They ~vent on the treacherous ice, it gave way, and eight-and-twenty perished. The Thunder Mountain, on their route, struck them as one of the most appalling objects which they had seen, being a bleak rock twelve hundred feet high above the level of the lake, with a per- pendicular face of its full height. The Indians say, that any one ~vho can scale it, and turn three times on the brink of its fearful wall, will live forever. We presume, by dying first. But the shores of this mighty lake, or rather fresh-water sea, which seemed destined to loneliness forever, are now likely to hear the din of population and blaze with furnaces and factories. Its southern coasts are found to possess rich veins of copper and silver. Later inquiry has discovered on the north- ern shore inexhaustible treasures of gold, silver, copper and tin, and associations have been already formed to work them. Sir George Simpson even speaks of the future probability of their rivalling in point of wealth the Altai chain, and the Uralian mountains. From Fort William, at the head of Lake Supe- rior, the little expedition entered a river with a polysyllabic name, which leads further on, to the Far West. The banks were beautiful. When this country shall be peopled, it will be one of the resemblances of the primitive paradise. It is all picturesque; the river finely diversified with rapids, and with one cataract which, though less in volume than Niagara, throws that far-famed fall into the back-ground, in point of height and wildness of scenery. But we must leave descrip- tion to the authors pen. The river, during this days march, passed through forests of elm, oak, birch, & c., being studded with isles not less fertile and lovely than its banks. And many a spot re- minded us of the rich and quiet scenery of England. The paths of the numerous portages were spangled with roses, violets, and many other wild flowers while the currant, the gooseberry, the raspberry, the plum, the cherry, and even the vine, were abun- dant. All this bounty of nature was imbued, as it were, with life, by the cheerful notes of a variety of birds, and by the restless flutter of butterflies of the brightest hues. He then makes the natural and graceful reflection One cannot pass through this fair valley with- out feeling that it is destined to become, sooner or later, the happy home of civilized men, with their bleating flocks, and their lowing herdswith their schools and their churcheswith their full garners, and their social hearths. At the time of our visit, the great obstacle in the way of so blessed a con- summation was the hopeless wilderness to the east- ward, which seemed to bar forever the march of settlement and cultivation, but which will soon be an open road to the far west with all its riches. That wilderness, now that it is to yield up its long- hidden stores, bids fair to remove the impediments which hitherto it has itself presented. The mines of Lake Superior, besides establishing a continuity of route between the East and the West, will find their nearest and cheapest supply of agricultural produce in the valley of the Kaministaquoia. One of the especial hazards of the forest now encountered them. Passing down a narrow creek near Lac le Pluje, fire suddenly burst forth in the woods near them. The flames, crackling and clam- bering up each tree, quickly rose above the forest; within a few minutes more the dry grass on the very margin of the waters, was in a running blaze, and before they were clear of the danger, they were almost enveloped in clouds of smoke and ashes. These conflagrations, often caused by a wanderers fire, or even by his pipe, desolate large tracts of country, leaving nothing but black and bare trunks, one of tue most dismal scenes on which the eye can look. When once the fire gets into the thick turf of the primeval wilderness, it sets every- thing at defiance. It has been known to smoulder for a whole winter under the deep snow.~~ Another Indian display quickly followed. After traversing the lake, they were hailed by the war- riors of the Salteaux, a band of about a hundred, the fighting men of a tribe of five hundred. Their five chiefs presented a congratulatory address on their safe arrival, requesting an audience, which wasappointed, atthe rather undiplomatic hour offour next morning. But, while the governor was slum- bering, the Indians were preparing means of per- suasion more effective, in their conceptions, than even the oratory on which they seem to pride them- selves very highly while they were napping, the enemy were pelting away at them with their incantations. In the centre of a conjuring tenta structure of branches and bark, forty feet in length by ten in widththey kindled a fire; round the blaze stood the chiefs and medicine men, while as many others as could find room were squatted against the walls. Then, to enlighten and convert the gov- ernor, charms were murmured, rattles were shaken, and offerings were committed to the flames. After all these operations the silent spectators, at a given signal, started on their feet and marched round the magic circle, singing, whooping, and drumming in horrible discord. With occasional intervals, which were spent by the performers in taking fresh air, the exhibition continued during the whole night, so that when the appointed hour arrived they were still engaged in their observances. At length the two parties met in the open square of the fort. The Indians dressed in all their glory, a part of which consists in smearing their faces entirely out of sight with colorsthe prevailing fashion being, forehead white, nose and cheeks red, mouth and chin black. The governor and his party of course made their best effort to meet all this magnificence. Lord Caledon and Lord Mulgrave exhibited in regimen- tals; the rest put on their dressing-gowns, which, being of showy patterns, were equally effective. Seated in the. hall of conference, the pipes being sent round, hands shaken, and all due ceremonial having been performed, the Indian orator com- menced his harangue in the style with which we have now become familiar. Beginning with the creation, & c. & c., which Sir George cut short, and suddenly dropping down into the practical corn- 63 64 NORTH AMERICAS SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA. plaint, that we had stopped their rum, though Crees, who had been carried off from him, in an our predecessors had promised to furnish it as earlier foray, by her present lord and master. From long as the waters flowed down the rapids. whatever motive of domestic memory, this Amazon Now, said he, in allusion to our empty casks, rushed into the thickest of the fight, for the evident If I crack a nut, will water flow from it l purpose of killing the original husband. He, how- The governor replied, that the withdrawal of the ever, escaped; and while the victors were scalping rum was not to save expense but to benefit them. his unfortunate companions, creeping stealthily along He then gave them his advice on temperance, and for a whole day under cover of the woods, he laid promised them a small quantity of rum every down at night in a hollow at the top of the knoll. autumn. He also promised a present for their But his wife had never lost sight of him, and no civility in bringing their packet of furs, for ~vhich sooner had he, in the exhaustion of hunger and they should receive payment besides. Then fol- fatigue, sunk into a sound sleep, than she sent an lowed a general and final shaking of hands, and the arrow into his hrain. She then possessed herself congress between the English and Chippeway of his scalp, and exhibited it as her prize to the vic- nations broke up to their mutual satisfaction. tors. The title of the slain savage was the Wol- The Red river settlement, of which we heard so verine, and the spot is still called the Wolverine~ s often during the quarrels between Lord Selkirk and Knoll. the Company, will yet be a great colony; the soil is The Indians assert that the ghosts of the murder- very fertile, (one of the most important elements of ess and her victim are often to be seen struggling colonization,) its early tillage producing forty returns on the height. of wheat; and, even after twenty years of tillage, Human nature, left to itself, is a fierce and fright- without manure, fallow, or green crop, yielding ful thing; and the stories of savage life are ncarly from fifteen to twenty-five bushels an acre. The all of the same calibre, and all exhibit a dreadful wheat is plump and heavy, and, besides, there are love of revenge. About twenty years ago, a large large quantities of other grain, with beef, mutton, encampment of Black-feet and others, had been pork, butter, cheese, and wool in abundance. This formed in those prairies for the purpose of hunting. would be the true country for emigration from our The warriors, however, growing tired of their impoverished islands, and will, of course, he crowded peaceful occupation, resolved to make an incursion when conveyances shall become more manageable. ioto the lands of the Assinabsians. They left A railroad across Canada must still be a rather behind them the okl men with the women and IJto~pit~n conception, but it might be well worth the children. After a successful campaign, they turned expense of making by government, even though it their steps homewards, loaded with scalps and other produced nothing for the next half-dozen years, for spoils, and on reaching the top of the ridge that the multitudes whom it would carry through the overlooked their camp, they gave note of their heart of this superb country in the half-dozen ycars approach by the usual shouts of victory. But no after, and for the wealth which they would pour shout answered, and on descending to their huts, into England in every year to come. they found the whole of the inmates slaughtered. The settlement, however, meets, in i~ turn, the The Assinabaians had been there to take their common chances of an American climate. In revenge. winter the cold is intense. The summer is short, On beholding the dismal scene, the triumphant and the rivers sometimes overflow and drown the warriors cast away their spoils, arms, and clothing, crops. Still, what are these things to the popula- and then, putting on robes of leather, and smearing tion, where food is plenty, the air healthy, and the their heads with mud, they betook themselves to the ground cheap, fertile and untaxed. In fact, the hills for three days and nights, to howl, aiid moan, difficulties, in such instances, are scarcely more than and cut their flesh. It is observed, that this mode incitements to the ingenuity of man, to provide of expressing public grief bears a striking resem- resources against them. The season of snow is a blance to the customs of the Jews. The tract to- time of cheerfulness in every land of the north. In wards Fort Vancouver exhibited a country which Denmark, Russia, and Canada, when the rivers may yet make a great figure in the American world close up, business is laid by for the next six immense valleys sheltered by mountain ridges, months; and the time of dancing, driving, and feast- and containing beautiful lakes. In one instance, ing begins. Food is the great requisite; when that their tents were pitched in a valley of about five is found, everything follows, hundred acres, enclosed by mountains on three sides, In addition to agriculture, or in place of it, the and a lake on the fourth. From the edbe of the settlers, more particularly those of mixed origin, waters there arose a gentle descent of six or eight devote the summer, the autumn, and sometimes the hundred feet, covered with vines, and composed of winter also, to the hunting of the buffalo, bringing the accumulated fragments of the heights above; home vast quantities of pemmican, dried meat, and on the upper border of this slope there stood grease, tongues, & c., for which the Company and perpendicular ~valls of granite of three or four thou- voyaging business affords the best market. sand feet high, while among those diazy altitudes The party now proceeded, still with their faces the goats and sheep bounded in playful security. turned to the xvest, and marched for some days over This defile had been the scene of an exploit. One an immense prairie, which seemed to them to have of the Crees, whom they had met a few days before, been once the bottom of a huge lake. A rather had been tracked into the valley, along with his wife striking circumstance is, that nearly every height and family, by five warriors of a hostile tribe. On in this region has its romance of savage life. We perceiving the odds against him, the man gave him- give one of murder, for the benefit of the modern self up for lost, observing to the woman, that as school of novelists, they could die but once, they had better die with- Many summers ago, a party of Assinabaians fell out resistance. The wife, however, said, tl]at as on a party of Crees in the neighborhood of the they had but one life to lose, they had the more Beatte a Carcajar, a conspicuous knoll in this neigh- reason to defend it, and, suiting the action to the borhood, and nearly destroyed them all. Among word, the heroic wife brought the foremost of the the assailants was the former wife of one of the enemy down to the ground by a bullet, while the NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. husband disposed of two others by two arrows. The fourth warrior was rushing on the woman with uplifted tomahawk, when he stumbled and fell. She darted forward, and buried her knife in his heart. The sole surviving assailant now turned and fled, discharging, however, a bullet which wounded the man in the arm. They had now reached that rocky range from which the eastern and western rivers of those mighty provinces take their common departure. Here they estimated the height of the pass to be seven or eight thousand feet above sea-level, while the peaks seemed to be nearly half that height above their heads. Of course, the party often felt the torture of mos- quitoes, hut one valley was so preeminently infested with those tormentors, that man and beast alike preferred being nearly choked with smoke, in which they plunged, for the sake of escaping their stings. But we advert to this common plague of all forest travel, only for its legendary honors. The Canadians vented their cuises against the OLD MAID, who had the credit of having brought the scourge upon earth, by praying for something to fill up the leisure of her single blessedness. And if, as the author observes, the tormentors ~vould con- fine themselves to nunneries and monasteries, the world might see something more of the fitness of things in the matter. At the close of ~~ugust, the party reached Fort Vancouver, having crossed the continent, by a route of five thousand miles, in twelve weeks travel- ling. They now made a visit to the Russian-American Companys Establishment of New Archangel. This exhibited considerable signs of commerce. In the harbor were five sailing vessels from 250 to 350 tons; besides a large bark in the offing in tow of a steamer, which brought advices from St. Peters- burgh down to the end of April. An officer came off conveying Governor Etholines compliments and welcome. The party landed, and were received in the residence situated on the top of a rock. The governors dwelling consisted of a suite of apart- ments communicating, according to the Russian fashion, with each other, all the public rooms being handsomely decorated and richly furnished. It com- manded a view of the whole establishment, which was, in fact, a little village. Aboift half way down the rock, two batteries frowned respectively over the land arid the water. Behind the bay arise stu- pendous piles of conuical mountains with summits of everlasting snow. To seaward, Mount Edgecumbe, slso in the form of a cone, rears its trunk-headed peak, still remembered as the source of smoke and flame, lava and ashes, but now the repository of the snows of an age. Next day, the governor, in full uniform, came in his gig to return the visit to Sir George on board his steamer. The party were invited on shore, where they were introduced to Madame Etholine, a pretty and lady-like woman, a native of Finland. They then visited the schools, in which there were twenty boys and as many girls; the boys were intended chiefly for the naval service, nor did religion seem to be neglected any more than education. The Greek church had its bishop, fifteen priests, deacons, and followers, and the Lu- therans had their clergyman. The ecelesiastics were all maintained by the imperial goverment. Such is Sitka, the principle depot of the Russian- American Company. It has various subordinate establishments. The operations of the Company are becoming more extensive, and at this period the CLXV. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiv. 5 returns of the trade amounted to about 25,000 skins of beavers, otters, foxes, & c. Among the company at the Russian governors, was a half-breed native, who had been the leader of an expedition equipped some years ago, for the dis- covery of what would here be styled the north-east passage. The Russians reached Point Barrow shortly after the expedition under Mr. Thomas Simpson had reached the same point from the oppo- site direction. The climate seems to be sufficiently trying, and during the four days at Sitka there was nearly one continued fall of rain. The weather was cold and squally, snow had fallen, and the channels were traversed by restless masses which had broken off from the glaciers. In short, nothing could exceed the dreariness of the coast. This shore, of which so much has been said and written during the late Oregon negotiations, is de- scribed as the very scene for the steamboat. Here are the Straits of Juan de Fuca; and here Admiral Fonte penetrated up the more northerly inlets. They are the very region made for the steamboat, as in the case of a sailing vessel their dangers and delays would have been tripled and quadrupled. But steam has also a power almost superstitious on the minds of the natives; besides acting on their fears, it has in a great measure subdued their love of robbery and violence. It has given the savage a new sense of the superiority of his white brother. A striking instance of this feeling is given. After the arrival of the emigrants from Red river, their guide, an Indian, took a short trip in the Beaver. When asked what he thought of her, Dont ask me, was his reply. I cannot speak; my friends will think that I tell lies when I let them know what I have seen. Indians are fools, and know nothing. I can see that the iron machinery makes the ship go, but I cannot see what makes the iron machinery itself go.~ This man, though intelligent, and partly civilized, was nevertheless so full of doubt and won- der that he would not leave the vessel till he had got a certificate to the effect that he had been on board of a ship which needed neither sails nor pad- dlesany document in writing being regarded by the Indians as unquestionable. Fort Vancouver which will probably be the head of a great colony, is about ninety miles from the sea, the Colombia in front of it, being a mile in widthcontains houses, stores, magazines, & c. Outside the fort, the dwell- mugs of the servants, & c., form a little village. The people of the establishment vary in number, accord- ing to the season of the year, from one hundred amid thirty to more than two hundred. Divine service is regularly performed every Sumiday in Etughish to the Protestants. But at the time of this journal there was unfortunately no English clergyman con- nected with the establishment. Sir George himself now visited California, the region which the Mexican ~var is bringing into prominent notice. The harbor of San Francisco is magnificent, the first view of the shore presented a level sward of about a mile in depth, backed by a ridge (if grassy slopes, the whole pastured by numer- ous herds of cattle and horses, which, without a keeper or a fold, fattened whether their owners waked or slept. The harbor displays a sheet of water of about thirty miles in lemigrb by about twelve in breadth, sheltered from every wind by an amphitheatre of ereen hills. But this sheet of water forms only a part in the inland sea of San Francisco. Whalers Harbor, at its own northern extremity, communi- cates, by a strait of about two miles in width, with 65 NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA. the bay of San Pedro, which leads by means of a second strait into Fresh Water bay, of nearly the same form and magnitude, and which forms the receptacle of two great rivers, draining vast tracts of country to the southeast and northeast, which are navigable for inland craft, so that the harbor, besides its matchless qualities as a port of refuge on this surf-beaten coast, is the outlet of an immense, fair, and fertile region. But the beauties of nature are useless when they fall into the hands of idlers and fools. Everything in those fine countries seems to be boasting and beg- gary. Everything has been long sinking into ruin, through mere indolence. The Californians once manufactured the fleeces of their sheep into cloth. They are now too lazy to weave or spin, too lazy even to clip and wash the raw material, and now the sheep have been literally destroyed to make more room for the horned cattle. They once made the dairy an object of attention; now neither butter nor cheese is to he found in the province. They once produced in the missions eighty thousand bushels of wheat and maizethey were lately buying flour at Monterey at the rate of 6 a sack. Beef was once plentifulthey were now buying salted salmon for the sea-store for one paltry vessel, which constituted the entire line-of- battle of the Californian navy. The author justly observes, that this wicked abuse of the soil and consequent poverty of the peo- ple results wholly from the objects of the coloniz- ation. Thus the emigrants from England to the northern colonies looked to subsistence from the fruits of labor; ploughed, harrowed, and grew rich, and civilized. On the other hand the colonists of New France, a name which comprehended the valleys of the St. Lawrence and Mississippi, dwin- dled and pined away, partly because the golden dreams of the free trade carried them away from stationary pursuits, and partly because the govern- ment considered them rather as soldiers than set- tlers. In like manner Spanish America, with its & rras of silver, holding out to every adventurer the hope of earning his bread without the sweat of his brow, became the paradise of idlers. In California, the herds of cattle, and the sale of their hides and tallow, offer so easy a subsistence, that the population think of no other, and in conse- quence arc poor, degenerate, and dwindling. Their whole education consists in bullock-hunting. In this view, unjust and violent as may be the aggres- sions of the American arms, it is difficult to regret the transfer of the territory into any hands which will bring these fine countries into the general use of mankind, root out a race incapable of improve- ment, and fill the hills and valleys of this mighty province with corn and man. At present the produce of a bullock in hide, tal- low, and horns, is about five dollars, (the beef goes for nothing,) of which the farmers revenue is aver- aged at a dollar and a half. This often makes up a large income. General Vallego, who had about eight thousand head of cattle, must receive from this source about ten thousand dollars a year. The former missions, or monkish revenues, must have been very large; that of San Jose possessing thirty thousand head of cattle, Santa Clara nearly half the number, and San Gabriel more than both together. It must be acknowledged that the monks had made a handsome affair of holiness in the good old times. Previously to the Mexican revolution their missions~~ amounted, in the upper province aloue, to twenty-one, every one of course with its endow- ment on a showy scale. Every monk had an annual stipend of four hundred dollars. But this was mere pocket-money; they had donations and bequests from the living and from the dead, a most capacious source of opulence, and of an opu- lence continually growing, constituting what was termed the pious fund of California. Besides all these things, they had the cheap labor of eighteen thousand converts. But the drones were to be suddenly smoked out of their hives. Mexico de- clared itself a republic; and, as the first act of a republic, in every part of the world, is to plunder everybody, the property of the monks went in the natural way. The lands and beeves, the dona- tions and bequests, were made a national property, in 1825. Still some show of moderation was ex- hibited, and the names and some of the offices of the missions were preserved. But, in 1836, the Californians took the whole affair into their own hands, threw off the central government, and were free, independent, and beggared. The missions were then secularized at their ease. The Mex- ican government was furious for a while, and threatened the Californians with all the thunders of its rage; but the vengeance ended in the simple condition, that California should still acknowledge the Mexican supremacy, taking her own way in all that had been done, was doing, and was to be done. The travellers had now an opportunity of seeing the interior of a Californian mansion, the house of the chief proprietor in this quarter, General Val- lego. We must acknowledge that Sir George Simpson would have much improved his volumes by striking out the whole of this description. It is evident that he was received with civilities of every kind; he was provided with horses and attendants ; he was taken to see all the retnarkable features of the estate and the habits of its people; he was feted, introduced to wife and daughters, sons-in-law and daughters-in-law, sung and danced for, and smiled on and talked with, as if he had been a prince; and yet his whole account of this hospital- ity throws it into the most repulsive light imagina- ble ;cold dinners, bad attendance, rude furniture, and so forth, form the staple of his conceptions; and if his book should ever reach General Vallegos hands, which it probably will, through the zeal of American republication, we can easily imagine that he will become cautious in his hospitality for the time to come. We, at least, shall not extend the vexation of this Spanish gentleman by quoting any part of this unfortunate bevue. We say this with regret. But this style of repaying generous hos- pitality cannot be too distinctly reproved, for the sake of all future travellers who may want, not merely hospitality, but protection. The next subject of description is Monterey, which has lately assumed a peculiar interest, as one of the objects of the American invasion. The Bay of Monterey forms a segment of a circle with a chord of about eighteen miles. Monterey had always been the seat of government, though it con- sisted of but a few buildings. But, since the revo- lution of 1836, it has expanded into a population of about seven hundred souls. The town occupies a plain, bounded by a lofty ridge. The dwellings are the reverse of pompous, being all built of mud bricks. The houses are remarkable for a paucity 66 NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. of windows, glass being inordinately dear; even parchment almost unattainable, and the artists in window-making charging three dollars a day! But, to the Californians, perhaps this privation of light is not an evil. While it makes the rooms cooler, it cannot, by any possibility, interfere with the occupations of those who do nothing. The bed affords a curious contrast to the rest of the fur- niture. While the apartments exhibit a deal-table, badly made chairs, probably a Dutch clock, and an old looking-glass, the bed challenges admiration by snowy-white sheets, fringed with lace, a pile of soft pillows, covered with the finest linen or the richest satin, and a well-arranged drapery of costly and tasteful curtains. Still this bcd is but a whited sepulchre, with a wool mattrcss the impenetrable stroughold of millions of. We leave the rest to the imagination. The history of Political Causes and Effects would make a curious volume; and it would ad- mirably display at once the profound agency of Providence and the shortsightedness of human policy. It would scarcely be supposed that the de- vastation of Europe, and the sack of Berlin, Vienna, and Moscow, found their origin in a Spanish treaty, on the banks of ~he Mississippi, half a cen- tury before. The power of France in the interior of America, which had extended from Canada to Louisiana, and which formed a line of posts for its boundary along this immense internalfrontier, kept the Brit- ish colonies in a state of constant alarm; and, by consequence, in a state of continual dependence on England. But the English possession of Canada, in 1763, and the cession of Louisiana to Spain at the same period, as they lessened the alarms, loos- ened the allegiance of the British colonies. The next steps were more obvious. The war of the United States, in which France was an auxiliary, inflamed the French population with the hope of breaking down the strength of England, and the aristocracy of France. But the expense of equip- ping the French allied force fell heavy on an ex- chequer already burthened by the showy extrava- gance of the Regent Orleans, and by the gross profligacies of Louis XV. To relieve the ex- chequer, the States General were summoned; and from that moment began the revolution. The Enropean war was the result of a republican gov- ernment, and the coiquest of the continent the result of placing Napoleon on the throne of the em- pire. What further results may be still preparino are beyond our knowledge; but it can scarcely be conceived that the chain is yet finally broken. But before we take leave of California, we must do it the justice to speak of San Barbara, which, as the author rather emphatically expresses it, is to Monterey what the parlor is to the kitchen. The bay is an unfavorable one, being exposed to the worst winds of the worst season. But the town having been selected as the favorite retreat of the more respectable functionaries of the province, Santa Barbara exhibits the charms of aristocratic manners. The houses, externally, are superior to any others on the coast, and, internally, exhibit taste in their furniture and ornament. The ladies excite the authors pen into absolute rapture; their sparkling eyes and glossy hair are, in themselves, sufficient to negative the idea of tameness or insip- idity, while their sylph-like figures exhibit fresh graces at every step. This is supported by the more important qualities, of being by far the more industrious half of the community, and performing their household duties with cheerfulness and pride. The men are a handsome race, and the greatest dandies imaginable, completely modelled on the Andalusian Majo, and displaying the finest linen, the most embroidered pantaloons, and the most glittering jackets in the western world. Of course, it cannot be expected of any Spaniards that they should do much, and beaux so fine cannot be ex- pected to do anything. Accordingly, his day is spent in riding from house to house, on a horse as fine as himself, a living machine of trappings, and the nights in dancing, billiard-playing, and flirting. In all countries where serious things are habitu- ally turned into trifles, trifles become serious things. The balls, in fact, seem more like a matter of business than anything else that is done in Califor- nia. For whole days beforehand, sweetmeats are laboriously prepared in the greatest variety, and from beginning to end of the festivities, which have been known to last several successive nights, so as to make the performers, after wearing out their pumps, trip it in sea-boots, both men and women displaying as much gravity as if attending the funeral of their friends. A still more humanizing portion of their tastes is their passion for music. Th~ guitar is heard in every house. Father, mother, and child are all playing, and singing; and, to the praise of their taste be it spoken, playing nothing but the fandan- goes, segnidillas, and ballads of Spain; the truest, purest, and most touching of all music; well worth all the hammered harmonies of the German school, and all the long-winded and laborious bravuras of the Italian. The Spanish music is the most refined, and yet the most natural, in the world. We are happy to see this experienced judge of men and things s~)eaking of the Californians as a happy people possessing the means of physical pleasure to the full, even though he qualifies the opinion by their knowing no higher kind of en- joyment. It is true, that the Englishman, who knows what intellectual enjoyment is, will not abandon that highest. though most toilsome, of all gratifica- tions, for inferior indulgences; but it would be a fortunate hour for the Englishman when he could get rid of some portion of the toil that wears away his life, in exchange for the light-hearted pleasures and simple occupations of foreign existence. Nor is there any man who less prefers the dogged round of his cheerless exertions, or who is more gen- uinely susceptible of essential enjoyment. We even think that the cultivated Englishman has a finer relish for enjoymnent than the man of any other country. The caperings of the Frenchman, or the grimaces of the Italian, have but little connection with the mind. All foreigners seem wretched when they have no physical excitement. There is not a more miserable object on earth than a Frenchman wandering through the streets of Lon- don on a Sunday, when he can neither see the print-shops in the day, nor go to the play at night. The German is heart-broken for the same reason, and shrouds himself and his sorrow in double clouds of smoke. The Italian would worship Diana of Ephesus, or the great African snake, if its pageantry or puppet-show would enable him to get through the day of closed shops and no opera! Yet, con- temptible as this restless hunting after nothings is, it would be fortunate for us if we could qualify the severity and constancy of our national toil by some mixture of the lighter pursuits of the continent. 67 NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA~ AND RUSSIA. The fertility of California is boundless ; it pro- duces everything that human appetite can desire. In the mission-garden of San Gabriel were produced grapes, oranges, lemons, olives, figs, bananas, plums, peaches, apples, pears, pomegranates, rasp- berries, strawberries, & c., & c., while in the ad- joining mission were found, in addition, tobacco, the plantain, the cocoanut, the indigo plant, and the su~~ar-cane ut nature is nothing, in this country, without a miracle; and the history of every village probably furnishes its legend. The missions, however, may be presumed to be the peculiar favorites of Heaven. Whea Padre Pedro Cambon, and Padre Som- era, were selecting a site for the mission, escort- ed by ten soldiers, a multitude of Indians, armed, presented themselves, and, setting up horrid yells, seemed determined to oppose its establishment. The fathers, fearing that war would ensue, took out a piece of cloth with the image of our lady upon it, and held it up in view of the barbarians. This was no sooner done, than the whole were quiet, being subdued by the sight of this most precious image; and throwing on the ground their bows and arrows, their two captains came running to lay the beads, which they had round their necks, at the feet of the sovereign queen, in proof of their tender regard.~~ We recommend the trial of this holy cloth on General Taylor. But there is no limit to the richness of this re- gion. The valley of the Zulares, in the neighbor- hood, would support millions of people. Its lakes and rivers all abound in fish, its forests have all kinds of trees, some of them growing to a size which, but for the force of testimony, would be in- credible. One of these is stated by Humboldt as of one hundred and eighteen feet in girth. But this is a walking-stick compared with another at Bodega, as described to Sir George by Governor Etholine, of Sitka. It is thirty-six Russian fathoms (seven feet each) in span, and seventy-five in height; so that, if tapered into a perfect cone, it would contain nearly twenty-two thousand tons of bark and timber. In addition, the valley contains immense herds of wild horses, in troops of several thousands each. What a country will this be, when it shall fall into the hands of an intelligent people! The last of the five posts, San Diego, is, next to San Francisco, the best harbor in the province. Thus, Upper California contains, at its opposite extremities, two of the best harbors on the Pacific Ocean each of them being enhanced in value by the distance of any others worthy of the name, San Francisco being nearly one thousand miles from Port Discovery in the north, and San Diego six hundred miles from the flay of Magdalena in the south. That in the hands of any vigorous possessors this country would form a most powerful kingdom, is beyond all question; and Sir George Simpson evi- dently thinks that it might easily be acquired, and with a legitimate claim too, by England. But the still higher question is the policy of a perpetual in- crease of territory. England already has in Amer- lea a larger extent of territory than she can people for five hundred years to come. But the posses- sion of California, and perhaps the whole extent of the Mexican l)rovinces, is on the eve of decision; the American invasion has found no resistance that can deserve the name. The Mexicans fly in every quarter, and a few discharges of cannon put them to flight by thousands. At this moment the whole Mexican republic, equal in size to half a dozen European states, appears to be crumbling into frag- ments. The rambling expeditions of the Americans are ravaging it in all directions with impunity, and armies which might have been long since annihi- lated by a mere guerilla war, have been suffered to march from city to city, with scarcely more resist- ance than a cattle-stealing skirmish. By the last in- telligence, San Juan d Ulloa has fallen, and Vera Crux has capitulated after a seige of only three days and a half. The castle is the strongest fortification in the western worldand, as Napoleon said of Malta, It is lucky that it had somebody inside to open the gates for us : the garrison of this fortress seems to have been placed there merely for the pur- pose of surrendering it. But, whatever may he the fate of men who had such a fortress to defend, and yet whose defence actually cost the assailants but seventeen killed! there can be hut one feeling of commiseration for the unhappy inhabitants of Vera Cruz, on whom was rained, day and night, a shower of shot and shell amounting to more than seven thou- sand of those tremendous missiles. It is computed that the slaughter, and that slaughter chiefly of wo- men and children, amounts to thousands. These are terrible things, even where they may be supposed the necessities of war. But here we can discover no necessityVera Crux was no fortification, it was nearly an open town. We recollect no similar in- stance of a bombardment. In Europe, it has long been a role of military morals, that no open city shall ever be bombarded. We believe it to be the boast of the first living soldier in the worldand we could have no more honorable onethat lie never suffered a city to be bombarded; from the obvious fact, that the chief victims were the help- less inhabitants, while the soldiery are sheltered by the casemates atid bomb-proofs. At all events, we must regard the contest as de- cided. The government has exhibited nothing more than a sullen resolution; and the people little more than the apathy of their own cattle; the troops have exhibited no evidence of discipline, and the only resource of the finance has been in the wild projects of an empty exchequer. Whether the United States will be the more prosperous for this conquest, is a question of time alone. Whether the facility of the conquest may not make the multitude frantic for general aggressionwhether the military men of the states may not obtain a popularity and assume a ~)owei~ which has been hitherto confined to civil lifewhether the attractions of military career may not turn the rising generation from the pursuits of trade and tillage, to the idle, or the ferocious life of the American campaignerand whether the pres- sure of public debt, the necessity for maintaining their half-savage conquests by an army, and the passion for territorial aggrandizement, may not urge them to a colonial war with Englandare only parts of the great problem which the next five-and- twenty years will compel the American republic to solve. At the same time, we cannot avoid looking upon the invasion of Mexico as a portion of that extraor- dinary and mysterious agency which is now shaking all the great stagnant districts of the world; which has already awaked Turkey in Europe and in Asia Minor; which has brought Egypt into civilized action; which has broken down the barbarism of the Algerines, and planted the French standard in place of the furies and profligacies of African Mahometanism. Deeply deprecating the g~iilt of 68 NORTH AMERICA~ SIBEBIA~ AND RUSSIA. 69 those aggressions, and condemning the crimes by warriors were strengthened everywhere to accom- which they have been sustained, we cannot but push the purposes of Providence. regard changes so unexpected, so powerful, and so We now come to the overland journey to Siberia. simultaneous, as the operation of a higher power On the 23d of July, they reached the port of than mans, with objects altogether superior to the Ochotsk, where, however, they were met by masses short-sightedness of man, and amply bearing the of floating ice. Here Sir George had the first character of working good out of evil, which be- intelligence from England, which brought to his longs to the history of Divine Providence in all the English heart the glad tidings of the birth of a ages of the world. Prince of Wales. They found this settlement a There is one peculiarity in these volumes which collection of huts on a shingly beach. The popu- ~ve cannot sufficiently applaud, and that is, the lation is about 800 souls. A more dreary scene thoroughly English spirit in which they are written. can scarcely be conceived than the surrounding Without weak partiality, for the reasons are every- country. Not a tree, and even scarcely a green where assigned ; without narrow prejudice, for the blade, is to be seen within miles of the town. The facts are in all instances stated; and without dero- climate is on a par with the soil. The summer gating from the merits of other nations, the work consists of three months of damp and chilly weather, is calculated to give a just conception of the value during great part of which the snow still covers the of England to the world. hills, and the ice chokes the harbor, and this is suc- On his return from the Sandwich Islesan inter- ceeded by nine months of dreary winter. But when esting portion of his travels, to which we have not men find fault with such a climate as this, the fact now time to advert in detailand preparing to start is, that the fault is their own. Those climates from the Russian post of New Archangel by a five were never intended for the residence of man; they months journey through the Russian empire, he were intended for the white bear, the seal, the gives a glance at what he has done. whale, and the fur-bearing animals. To those 1 have, says he, threaded my way round inhabitants they are perfectly adapted. If the rage nearly half the globe, traversing about 220 degrees of conquest, or the eagerness for gain, fixes human of longitude, and upwards of 100 of latitude, barely beings in the very empire of winter, they are intro- one fourth of this by the ocean. Notwithstanding ders, and must suffer for their unsuitable choice of all this, I have uniformly felt more at home, with a locale. the exception of my first sojourn at Sitka, than 1 The principal food of the inhabitants is fish. On should have felt in a ais. I have everywhere seen fish they feed themselves; their dogswhich are our race, under a great variety of circumstances, equivalent to their carriage horsesthuir cattle, and either actually or virtually invested with the attn- their poultry, are also chiefly fed on fish. All other butes of sovereignty. provisions are ruinously dear. Flour costs twenty- After a few words on the vigor of the English eight rubles the pood(a ruble is worth about a blood, as exhibited in the commerce, intelligence, franc, the pood is thirty-six English pounds.) Beef and activity of the United States, he returns to the is so dear as to be regarded as a treat, and wines immediate possessions and prowess of England. and groceries have to pay a land carriage of seven I have seen the English posts which stud the thousand miles. wilderness from the Canadian lakes to the Pacific Here, too, the people drink tea in the style in Ocean. I have seen English adventurers with that which it was introduced in more primitive days into innate power which makes every individual, whether Europe. It is of the kind known as brick tea, being Briton or American, a real representative of his riade up in cakes, and is consumed in great quanti- country, monopolixing the trade, and influencing the ties by the lower orders in Siberia, being made into destinies of California. And, lastly, I have seen the a thick soup, with the addition of butter and salt. English merchants of a barbarian archipelago, On the 27th of the month, they began their jour- which promises, under their guidance, to become ney across Siberia. After leaving the shore, and the centre of the traffic of the east and the west, of boating the river Ochota, to an encampment where the new world and the old. In saying all this, I they were to meet their horses, hired at the rate of have seen less than half the grandeur of the English forty-five rubles a horse, on an agreement to be con- race. How insignificant in comparison are all the veyed to Yakiitsk in eighteen days, they struck into other nations of the earth, one nation alone ex- the country, which exhibited forests of pine, their cepted. Russia and Great Britain literally gird the progress being about fiur or five miles an hour. globe where either continent has the greatest The Yakuti appear to be very industrious; young breadth; a fact which, taken in corinexion with their and old, niale and female, being always occupied in early annals, can scarcely fail to be regarded as the some useful employment. When not engaged in work of a special Providence. After the fall of the travelling or farming, men and boys make saddles, Roman empire, a scanty and obscure people sud- harness, & c. ; while the women and girls keep denly burst on the west and east, as the dominant house, dress skins, prepare clothing, and attend to race of the times; one swarm of the Normans the dairy. They are also remarkably kind to making its way to England, while another was strangers; for milk and cream, the best things they establishing its supremacy over the Sclavonians of had to give, were freely offered in every village. the Borysthenes, the two being to meet in opposite This was the 10th of July, yet the snow was still directions at the end of a thousand years. partially lying on the ground. From day to day He regards the gigantic power of Russia as in an they met caravans of horses; and one day they were unconscious copartnership with England in the startled by the shouts of a party at the head of them. grand cause of commerce and civilixation. He also Their next sight was a herd of cattle running wildly makes the curious and true remark that, notwith- in all directions, and the cause was seen in a huge standing the astonishing successes of the Norinans she-bear and her cub moving off at a round trot. in Europe, they were never numerous enough to On this route, the bears are both fierce and numer- establish their language in any of the conquered ous. The country had now become more fertile; countries. Their unparalleled successes, therefore, there was nn want of flowering plants, and the for- seem to express the idea that those feeble bands of ests were enlivened by the warbling of birds which, 70 NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. contrasted as it was with the deathlike silence, of the American woods, was peculiarly grateful to the ear. In the course of the day, the vexatious inci- dent occurred of meeting the courier, with the let- ters from England, which had been looked for so anxiously on the arrival of the travellers in Siberia; but the bags of course could not be opened on the road. The presence of the Cossack, who attended the party, was of great importance in quickening the movements of the natives; but they seemed kind and good-natured, full of civility to the strangers, and not without some degree of education. The Yakuti have a singular mode of estimating distances. In Germany, a common measure of distance is the time that it takes to smoke a pipe. In this part of Sibe- ria, they take as their unit the time necessary for boiling a kettle of a particular sort of food. They tell you, that such and such a place is so many ket- tles off, or half a kettle, or, as the case may be, only part of a kettle. At last they arrive at the Lena. This is de- scribed as one of the grandest rivers in the world. At a distance of thirteen hundred versts from the sea, (three versts are eqtial to two miles,) it is from live to six miles wide. Its entire length is not less than four thousand versts. The word Lena implies lazya name justified by the circuitous flowing of its stream. At Yakutsk, the seat of the governor, they were received with great civility in this capital of the province, latitude sixty-two north, and longi- tude one hundred and thirty east. The extreme temperature of summer and winter is almost beyond belief, the thermometer having risen in the shade to 1O6~ of Fahrenheit, and in winter having fallen to 530 below zeromaking a difference of 189g. In this district are the enormous deposits of mammoth hones. Spring after spring, the alluvial banks of the lakes and rivers, crumbling under the thaw, have given up their dead; and the islands opposite to the mouth of the Yana, and, as there was reason for believing, even the bed of the ocean itself, teems with those mysterious mcmorials.of antiquity. The question is, how do those bones come there Sir George, after giving the opinions of some of the professors of geology, conceives the most natural account of the phenomenon to he, that those ani- mals, or their bones, were swept from the great Tar- tarian pasturages of Cobi, by the waters of the deluge, towards the ocean. We must acknowledge that this has long been our own opinion. It must be remembered that the scriptural account states the rising of the deluge to have been gradual. The rain fell forty days and iuights. All living things would of course make their way to the heights to escape the rising inundation of the valleys. The cattle thus grouped together in immense herds, (the buffaloes in the prairies at the present day sometimes exceed five thousand in one pasturage,) thus gath- ered into one mass, would be finally submerged, and swept away in whatever irresistible current rushed over the spot on which they stood. The frost of the region, which penetrates the earth to the depth apparently of some hundred feet, would thenceforth preserve them from decay. The tusks form an article of considerable trade, the ivory selling from a shilling to one and ninepence a pound, according to the perfection of the tusks. One of the travellers especial wishes was, to have visited the town of Kiachta, the place of com- merce between the Russians and the Chinese. But a note from the governor mentioned that the Chi- nese had suddenly stopped all communication. But a few words may be given to a commerce so pecu- liar. By the treaty of Nertshinsk, a reciprocal lib- erty of traffic was stipulated; and accordingly caravans on the part of the Russian government,~ and individual traders, used to visit Pekin. But the Muscovites exhibited so much of the native habits in drinking and roystering, that, after exhausting the patience of the celestials during three-and-thirty years, they were wholly excluded. But a cessation of five years having taken place, the Russians, in 1728, obtained a treaty, by which individuals were permitted to trade on the frontier; and Kiachta was built. But public caravans were permitted to go on to Pekin. At length, in 1762, Catherine fixed the grand emporium at Kiachta. This town, standing on a beach of the same name, is within about half a furlong of the Chinese village of Maimatschin, (about the fiftieth parallel of lati- tude,) being one thousand miles from Pekin, and four thousand from Moscow. Such are the enor- mous distances through which the eagerness for money-making drives the children of men. The materials of the Russian traffic are furs, woollens, cottons, linen, & c., with articles in tin, copper, iron, & c.the whole amounting to about nineteen millions of rubles. The Chinese products are tea, silks, sugar candy, & c.nominally to the amount of seven millions of rubles, but probably rising to thrice the value. The chief time of the market is the winter. To the chief Russian mer- chants this is a species of monopoly, and a most thriving one, some of them being millionaires, and living in the most sumptuous manner, the mer- chant princes of the wilderness! We had some curiosity to know the condition of the exiles to Siberia from this intelligent eye-wit- ness. But he gives little more than a glance to a subject on which the public mind of England is at present so much engaged. In Russia corporal punishment is much in use; but criminals are sel- dom put to death. They are marched off to Sibe- ria for every kind of offence, from the highest political crime to petty larceny. The most heinous offenders are sent to the mines; those guilty of minor delinquencies are settled in villages, or on farms; and thQse guilty of having opinions differ- ent from those of the governmentstatesmen, authors, and soldiersare generally suffered to establish themselves in little knots, where they spread refinement through the country. The con- sequence is, that all grades of society are decidedly more intelligent than the corresponding grades in any other part of the empire, and perhaps more so than in most parts of Europe. Many of the exiles are now men of large income. The dwelling in which we breakfasted to-day, says the traveller, was that of a person who had been sent to Siberia against his will. Finding that there was hut one way of bettering his condition, he worked hard, and behaved well. He had now a comfortably furnished house and a well-cultivated farm, while a stout wife, and plenty of servants, bustled about the premises. His son had just arrived from St. Petersburg, to visit his exiled father, and had the pleasure of seeing him amid all the comforts of life, reaping an abundant harvest, and with one hundred and forty persons in his pay ! He adds, In fact, for the reforming of the crim- inal, in addition to the punishment of the crime, Siberia is undoubtedly the best penilentiary in the world. When not bad euou~h fir the mines, each exile is provided with an allotment of ground, a NORTH AMERICA, SIBERIA, AND RUSSIA. house, a horse, two cows, agricultural implements, and, for the first year, with provisions. For three years he pays no taxes whatever, and for the next ten, only half the full amount. To bring fear as well as hope to operate in his favor, he clearly un- derstands, that his very first slip will send him from his home and family to toil in the mines. Thus does the government bestow an almost paternal care on the less atrocious criminals. Yet with this knowledge before the British gov- ernmentfor we must presume that they had not overlooked the condition of the Russian exiles; and with the still more impressive knowledge of the growth of our Australian colonies, and the im- provement of the convicts; the new-fangled and most costly plan is now to be adopted of reforming our criminals by keeping them at home! Th us we are to save the national expenditure by building huge penitentiaries, which will cost millions of money, and to secure society from depredation, by annually pouring out from those prisons, as the time of their sentences expires, the whole crowd of vil- lany to live on villany once more ;making the very streets a place of danger, and filling the coun- try with hungry crime. The only argument on the opposite side is, that the free settlers are offended by finding themselves in a population of convicts. But to this the obvious answer is, that the colonixation of Australia was originally intended as a school of reformthat the convicts have been to a great extent reformed, which they never would have been at homethat the con- victs were in the colony first, and that the settlers going there with their eyes open, have no reason to complain. We then have a notice on another subject, which is at present engrossing the speculations of all Europe, namely, the gold country on the Yenissei. Krasnoyayk, the capital, stands in a plain in the centre of the district, where the mania of gold- washing broke out about fifteen years ago. Some individuals have been singularly lucky in their search. One person, after having labored in vain for three years, and expending a million and a half of rubles, soddenly, in this very year, had hit upon a depot which gave him a hundred and fifty poods of goldworth thirty-five thousand rubles each, or five millions and a half of rubles. Gold here meas- ures everything: a ladys charms are by weight, a pood is a good girl, and two or three poods are twice or thrice as good as a wife. This province alone has, in this year, yielded five hundred poods of gold. Ekaterinehurg is the centre of the mining district of the Uralian mountains. The population amounts to about fourteen thousand, ~vho are all connected with the mines. The town has an iron foundry, a mint for copper and silver coin, and various estab- lishments for cutting marble, porphyry, and polish- ing precious stones. The neighboring mountains appear to be natures richest repository of minerals, yielding, in great abundance, diamonds, amethysts, topazes, & c.; gold, silver, iron, and platina. These inexhaustible treasures chiefly belong to Count Demidoff and M. Yakovleff. The count is said to receive half a million sterling a year from this princely property. Hurrying now towards England, with the anxi- ety which every one feels to reach home as the end of a long journey seems to be nigh, the traveller ~ assed through Kaxan, second in national honor to oscow, but found it in ashes from a late fire. He then hurried on to Nishney-Novgorod, the place of ~the greatest fair in the world, where tIme traffic brings traders from the ends of the earth, and where the trade amounts to nineteen millions ster- ling a year. He then traversed the property of General Sheremetieff, an estate of two days jour- itey, with a hundred thousand serfsa comfortable race when under a good master, each head of a family having a farm, and paying its rent, part in produce and part in work. The people appear to be a gay racesinging everywhere; singing on the roads, singing at work, and singing at cutting up their cabbages for the national luxury of saurkraut. At length ~vas seen loomingin the west, with all its steeples and domes, the queen of the wilderness, Moscow the magnificentthe most frequently- burned of all cities, and, as Sir George observes, the most retaliatory on the burnersit having been burned to embers four times, and each time having seen the incendiary nation ruined. It must be ad- mitted, however, that the revenge, however sure, was slow, for it seldom occurred in less than a couple of centuries Napoleons fate being the only instance of promptitude on this point. From Moscow to St. Petersburg, a macadamized road of seven hundred versts conveyed the traveller to the northern city of the czar, where, on the 8th of October, he terminated a journey from Ochotsk, of about seven thousand miles. In eight days from St. Petersburg he reached Hamburg, and in five days more arrived in London, having rounded the globe in a period of nineteen months and twenty-six days! We have given an abstract of this work with the more satisfaction, that it not merely supplies a certain knowledge of vast regions of which the European world knows little; but that it gives a favorable view of the condition, the habits, and the temper, of the multitudes of our fellow-men, spread over those immense spaces of the globe. Person- ally, of course, a man of the official rank and indi- vidual intelligence of the writer, might expect the hospitality of the Russian employ6s. But he seems to have been met with general kindnessto have experienced no injury, no obstacle, and no extor- tion; and, on the whole, having exhibited the good sense which disregards the inevitable annoyances of all journeys in distant countries, to have escaped all the severer ones which an ill-tempered traveller naturally brings upon himself. But the feature of his volumes on which we place the still higher value, is the honesty of his English spirit. He knows the value of his country; he does justice to her principles; he gives the true view of her power; he vindicates her intentious; and without depreci- ating the merits of foreign nations, he pays a manly tribute to the truth, by doing deserved honor to his own. WaAv we call good sense in the conduct of life, oonsists chiefly in that temper of mind which enables. its possessor to view at all times, with perfect cool- ness an(l accuracy, all the various circumstances of his situation: so that each of them may produce its due impression on him, without any exaggeration. arising from his own peculiar habits. But to n man of an ill-regulated imagination, external circumstan- ces only serve as hints to excite his own thoughts, and the conduct he pursues has in general far less reference to his real situation, than to some imagi- nary one, in which he conceives himself to be placed ~. in consequence of which, while he appears to himself to be act~ig with the most perfect wisdom and con- sistency, he may frequently exhibit to others all the appearances of follyStewart. 71 TABLE ETIQUETTETHE HUNTSD4AN. TABLE ETIQUETTE OF THE SEVENTEENTH away ones sweat with the napkin, or with the same CENTURY. clean ones nose, ones trencher, or the dish. 26. Suck no bones, at least in such wise that THE following Bill of Fare for the new year, one may hear it; take them not with two hands, quoted from a scarce hook entitled The Second but with one solely and properly. Gnaw them not, Part of Youths Behavior, or Decency in Conver- nor tear the flesh with thy teeth, as dogs do; but sation amongst Women, l2mo, 1664, shows the make use of thy knife, holding them with one hand, kind of viands under which the tables of our ances- or rather with two fingers, as nigh as thou canst. tors groaned at this festive season. Knock no hones upon thy bread, thy trencher, to 1. Brawn. 2. A boiled capon with oysters and get out the marrow of them, but get out the marrow sausages. 3. A sirloin, or ribs of roasted beef. with a knife. * * 4. A roasted goose. 5. Minced pies. 6. A roasted 34. Cleanse not thy teeth with a table cloth or turkey. 7. A marrow pie. 8. A made dish of napkin, or with thy finger, fork or knife; much bread pudding. 9. A roasted capon. 10. Larks, worse would it be to do so with thy nails, but use partridges, or woodcocks, which may be best pro- thy toothpick. * * Sharpcs Magazine. vided. 11. Lamb. 12. A tart of wardens or ____________________________ quinces. 13. Tame pigeons. 14. A dried neats tongue. 15. Anchovies. THE HUNTSMAN.A BALLAD. In connection with the above subject, and as illus- trative of the progress of civilization and etiquette since the seventeenth century, we extract from the first part of the Youths Behavior, & c., certain amusing rules concerning CARRIAGE AT TIlE TASLE. 1. Being set at the table, scratch not thyself, and take thou heed as much as thou caust [not] to spit, cough, and to blow thy nose; but if it be need- ful, do it dexterously without much noise, turning thy face sidelong. 2. Take not thy repast like a glutton. 3. Break not bread with thy hands, but cut it with a knife, if it he not very little, and very new, and that all the others did the same, or the major part. 4. Cast not thyself upon the table with thy arms stretched even to thy elbows. And put not thy shoulders, or thine arms, on their chairs inde- cently. 5. Eat not with cheeks full, and with open mouth. 6. Sop not in wine, if thou best not the mas- ter of the house, or hast some indisposition or other. * * 8. Taking salt, beware that thy knife be not greasy when it ought to he wiped, or the fork; one may do it neatly with a little piece of bread, or, as in certain places, with a napkin, but never with a whole loaf. * * 10. Blow not upon thy meat, but if it be hot, stay until it be cold. * * 11. Smell not to thy meat, and if thou holdest thy nose to it, set it not afterwards before another. 12. Besmear not any bread round about with thy fingers, but when thou wilt cut some bread, wipe them first if they be greasy; therefore take heed, as nigh as thou canst, of fouling thy hands, or of greasing thy fingers, and, having a spoon or fork, make use of it; it becometh thee, according to the custom of the best bred. * * 14. One ought not to cast under the table, or on the ground, bones, parings, wine or such like things; a twithstanding, if one be constrained to spit something which was hard to chew, or which causeth irksomeness, then may one throw it dexter- ousiy forth upon the ground, taking it decently with two fingers, or with the left hand half shut, so that it be not a liquid thing; in such case one may more freely spit it on the ground, turning oneself, if it be possible, somewhat aside, as hath been said here above. * * 12. It is undecent to soil the table cloth, and that which is worse, to clean ones face, or wipe Swzzr brother, go not to the chase, Ah, rest with rue at home! There is a shadow on thy face, Foretelling woes to come; And I have dreamed a ghastly dream, Oh, woful sight to see! It was thy steed swam down the stream, And riderless was he! Look, gentle one, where at the gate My generous courser stands, And bends his arching neck, elate, Beneath his masters hands! Fear not, fear not! My steed and I Are trusty friends and tried, And Ill be with thee faithfully, An hour ere eventide. Yet think upon the day of tears Thou leavst behind for me! Have patience with a womans fears, They spring from love of thee. Oh stay! and I for thee will sing Songs thou hast loved erewhile, And strive and seek for everything The slow hours to beguile! Full sweetly passeth, gentle one, With thee, each placid hour, And we will rest, ere set of sun, In thine own myrtle bower. But nowthe breeze is on the hills, The day is in the skies, The free birds song the forest fills With countless melodies! I must awayadieuadieu! He vaulted on his steed, And blithely glanced his eye of blue Oer river, hill, and inead. But plaintively, and pleadingly, That gentle one spake on, Oh, stay, for I have none but thee! Oh, stay! and he was gone! At eventide, when darkly red The sun sank from the shore, They brought that youthful hunter dead, Home to his sisters door. No words they said, but she looked well Upon each eye and cheek, And knew the tale they came to tell Without a start or shriek. She rose, and sought the lowly bier, And, kneeling by the place, She laid her cheek, without a tear, Beside her hrothers face. Awhile they pausedbut when they strove To lift her drooping head, They found that thus, in silent love, The gentle one was dead! Sharpes Magaziime. 72 NEW BEDFORD. 73 From the N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. I skill, activity, perseverance, sobriety and general MEW BEDFORDWHALING----OLD NEWSPAPERS, capacity of our seamen, and especially of our cap ETC. tains and mates; as to the common seamen, nearly one half, if not quite, are foreignersPortuguese, Spaniards, Danes, Germans, etc. Of these the Portuguese are probably the best, on account of their temperate habits. It is strange, but nevertheless true, that England has now but few ships engaged in this trade; France has some by the aid of heavy bounties; the northern countries of the continent (Holland, Ger- many, & c.) have a few vessels in this business; while Russia has not. more than one, if I am rightly informed. This catching of whales requires more expertness than men possess who drink as much of the ardent and of beer as do the seamen of northern Europe. Even John Bull is too stupid for this work, whatever other great feats he may be equal to. NEW BEDFORD, Mass., June 10, 1847. I RAVE thought that perhaps a few paragraphs from a quondam correspondent and friend, penned at the chief city of all fishing communities along this coast, might interest you. I say city, for New Bedford has recently been made a city by an act of the most grave and potent senators of this state. New Bedford is a very pleasant, I may also say a very beautiful place. Seen from the further end of the long bridge which spans the bay in front of it, and connects it with Fairhaven, it rises up from the waters edge most magnificently, and has a very imposing aspect. It appears still finer and nobler when seen by one who approaches from the sea. As the streets which are parallel to the water rise one above another on the wide slope upon which it stands, the city looms up in a very amphi- theatrical style. And at this season the great num- ber of trees and abundance of shrubbery, in the extensive gardens which are adjacent to very many of the houses, give increased beauty to the scene. In the lower portions of the city, near the docks and the shipping, the houses are more compactly situated, and the place is more business-like than in the uppermost streets, and especially the last two or three. It is on these commanding heights that many of those rich men live who have made their fortunes in the whale trade. There live the Rodmansat least many of themthe Roatches, the Arnolds, and others of the magnatesfamilies of wealth, taste, and an elegant refinement which would do honor to any part of our great republic. There they live en prince, surrounded with everything, so far as the passer-by can see, of this world, which heart can desire. In the summer they are fanned by the cool breezes which are wafted to them over Buzzards bay, and which at one time agitate in the most gentle manner the sweet foliage of theii Hes- perian gardens, and at another blow with a force that almost threatens to prostrate, if not uproot, the smaller and more abundantly leaved of the trees which embower their abodes. The city of New Bedford has a population of about 16,000 I am told. This estimate, however, probably includes the whole town, and in that case embraces a suburban population which is scattered over a considerable district. The place has in- creased very much since the time of my first visit some thirteen or fourteen years ago. Quite a num- ber of new houses have been built within the last two or three years. Including a few small places in the vicinity whose shipping is registered here, the number of whaling ships which belong to New Bedford is about 300 quite a respectable fleet, most certainly, and manned by about 9,000 seamen. The entire nomber of whaling vessels belonging to the United States (of ~vhich the greater part sail from this port, Nantucket, New London and Sag- harbor) is estimated at 700, and the number of sea- men necessary to man them is between eighteen and twenty thousand. The names, last reported posi- tion, with their ascertained cargoes, prospect, etc., of all these vessels, are given in that strangest of periodicals in this land, The Whaling Gazette. It is a singular fact that these United States pos- sess more whaling ships than all the rest of the world beside. And this is owing to the superior But a truce to this subjectto whales, whale catching, whale oil, sperm, & c., for other topics solicit your attention. While passing a few days with my friend, Mr. 0. C, a most worthy man, honored of all who know him, I have employed my leisure moments in various ways. Sometimes in strolling about the city, or wandering out into the adjacent fields and forests; sometimes in visiting a few friends whose acquaintance I have madeamong whom I may name one whom all very highly esteem who have the pleasure to know him, the Hon. Mr. Grinnell, who most worthily represents this district in the House of Representatives of the United Statesand sometimes in rummaging among whatever antiqui- ties I can find in the place. A day or two ago I got hold of several numbers of the Boston Evening Post of dates anterior to the revolution. Have you ever seen a copy of that wonderful sheet? Its dimensions were very small, in compar- ison with the mammoth papers of our day, being only about 18 inches long by 10 wide, and contain- ing only three columns on each of its four pages. Small as this periodical was, it often had a large amount of intelligence. For instance, the number for Sept. 7th, 1770, contains, inter alia, an address of thanks to those ministers of Boston who favored the Rev. Mr. Whitefield and his preaching; then follow some five columns filled with items of news, generally in a very compressed form, just received by the ship Lydia, arrived here last Thursday, in seven weeks from London. These paragraphs relate to all sorts of matters, without much regard to congruity. We are told, for instance, that the Right Hon. the Earl of Chatham, whose assertions are now so fatally verified in the late capture of Fort Egmont by the Spaniards, is expected in town tomorrow, to be present at a meeting of the mi- noritv. Almost immediately follows an account of the execution at Tyburn of a man who had robbed different persons of no less than 150 watches within one year last pasta fact which shows that there were some very had men in the days of our fathers, as well as in our more degenerate times. We are next told that Lord Dunmore has recovered from sickness and is about to return to his post as governor of New York. Then we have a notice of Lord M~nsfield having a long conference with his majesty on Thursday last. These five columns contain ninety-flee items of news, in as many para~rraphs, of every variety of importance. Mr. Wilkes (the celebrated John Wilkes) seems to be enjo~ing the solid advantages of his popularity with little noise. General THE BRITISH NAVY. Paoli pays his respects at the (British) court, and at the same time is much caressed by the ministry. A grand Turkish army of 130,000 men, com- manded by the grand vizier in person, is repre- sented to be in full march to Bender. John Wilkes name occurs several times. In one of the paragraphs is the following eulogy upon that singular and very notorious personage: Per- haps no man living has been so honored and dis- graced, in a very few years, as John Wilkes, Esq.; prosecuted, wounded, expelled, outlawed, outlawry reversed, imprisoned, repeatedly chosen member for the first county, rejected, chosen alderman of London, and at length master of one of the largest companies in that city. On the third page is found the domestic news, under the heads of New York, Portsmouth, Quebec, Boston, etc. The portion relating to Boston con- tains several items which show that a very hostile spirit existed between the citizens and the govern- ment. There is under this head a letter from a gentleman in London to his friend in that town. I give two or three extracts, from which we learn with what feelings the resistance of the colonies was regarded by some people in the mother country. All wise and candid men among us lament the unhappy contests betwixt Britain and its colonies; we see and feel the malignant effects of their con inuance. May He who hath the hearts of kings in his hands deliver you from the iron hand and rod ~f tyranny which lies grievously upon you ! The many rash and unconstitutional measures which the men in power have of late pursued have so embarrassed and distressed them, that they must soon strike some dcsperate blow, or quit the field of contest. It is a happy event that the city of London appears to think so justly and act so firmly in the present crisis; two notable instances of which have just now happened, viz: in the choice of a most worthy member to represent them in Parlia- ment, without any opposing candidatea thing which is said not to have happened for more than a contury pastand the verdict of the two juries, acquitting the sellers of Junius letter. Thesa convulsions in the ~vorld are to open and prepare the way for those times of refreshing for which, according to the divine promise, we stead- fastly look. The whole creation groans, and will continue to groan, under the tyranny of that proud spirit, who is called the prince of this world, and of the little tyrants in whom he works, till the times are accomplished, and the mystery of God is fin- ished. That happy period we hope is hastening, and Satan now rages, as knowing his time is but short~But here is the proper trial of the patience, the faith, and the fortitude of the saints. That yours, dear sir, and that of our afflicted brethren in the American colonies, especially in your city, may continue firm, auid abound, and have great recom- pense of reward, is the earnest prayer of, sir, Yours, & c. Divers advertisements are found on the third and fourth pages, which indicate the nature of the trade and general hnsiness of the capital of yankee land in those days. In another number of the same paper I find sev- eral advertisements respecting negroes who were to be sold or who had run away, but of such a nature that I infer that the commerce in that article was not very brisk even at that day. In one number is an account of the death of Mr. Whitefield, as he is uniformly styled, and of his funeral, at Newburyportthe people of that place having refused to allow the remains of that great and good man to be transferred to Boston for sepulture, although the people of that city had sent a large and most respectable delegation of gentle- men to solicit that favor. A short, but in the main discriminating and just eulogy on that won- derful and faithful servant of Christ is contained in the same number. But I must bring this communication to a con- clusion. Perhaps I shall pick up something else for your columns along these shores, before I quit them. I can assure you that the sweet breezes from the sea are beginning to be quite refreshing, as the sun becomes more and more vertical, and pours his fiery fluid down in no stinted measure during the hours about mid-day. JOLLY TARSTHE BRITISH NAVY. IT is remarkable that in the recent debates on manning the navy and army, the sole reliance for obtaining men was upon the mercenary induce- ments : from the tone of the speakers you would suppose that there was no such thing among the people as a spontaneous impulse to go to sea or to go to the wars. Is it s& If it is, a very peculiar change has come over the people. Nor are other signs of it wanting. Once upon a time, sea- songs and ditties to the honor of the national flag were popular music: now, so far as the people at home is concerned, they are nearly confined to the Adelphi hurlettas and the old-fashioned after-dinner Brahams and Incledons of private life. Certainly the people at large take neither pride nor pleasure in the nati(,nal glory ; nor is there any prevalent disposition to adventure. It was not always so. Once upon a time our sailors were jolly tars, and went to sea for the fun of the thing. What if they did get more kicks than halfpence ?~they thought it unmanly to grum- ble at home, and were perhaps fully repaid by the opportuYtity for boasting. Let your jolly tar fall to boasting now, and he is taken short by some prag- matical Mechanics Institute man, who calls his facts in question; while some Sailors Church man preaches to the hero against the wickedness of war and the sinfulness of mundane glory. Instead of having his full swing in boasts and junketings with pretty Poll, Jack is coddled in a Sailors Home, and told to put his money in the savings- hank against a rainy day,as though he were the man to want an umbrella! He must not he a hero from any sinful desire to drub three French- menthe Mechanics Institute philosopher sneers; nor because he loves the cannon~s roarhe should love his neighbor; but he most be heart of oak on principle, or at least with an eye to the main chance. Other motives impelled him when the glory of old England was a popular dream. But in those days freer play was given to the natural instincts, animal as ~vell as intellectual. The rurhl policeman was not ready to start from under every btish and every tree to stop every little urchin at fisticuffs, and carry him before the magistrate fir breaking tlte peace of our sovereign lady the queen. There was not a solemn inquest on every nuan whose head was a little too mueh cracked in a brawl. There was not a better observance of tlte Sabbath to arrest every healthful recreation, although the Sun- day was not then the only day of leisure. There was not then a Mr. Rutherfurd standing on the bor~ 74 DISCOVERER OF THE LETHEON. ders of Scotland with a registration bill, intent upon blocking out every chance of a runaway marriage; nor a Mr. Spooner standing in palace yard with a bill to exterminate all lawless gallantries. They had statutes in those days, indeed, but then they were only statutes, without a machinery to enforce themmere enacted sermons, enforced only by the beadle, and against none but notorious ragamuffins. The whole course of legislation and polity ~id not tend to repress every indulgence and exercise of the Instinctive energies. In many respects the change of tbe times has been for the better; but it has its inconveniences. Uecruiting-officers, no doubt, feel some of those inconveniences. We have no right to boast of the advancement of the age, and to complain of it in the same breath. If this universally suppressive polity, indeed, were by an ideal possibility to attain its full success, we should be a nation of Puritans and Quakers before our time; the surrounding lands not being inhabited by nations of Quakers; which would be awkward. A millennium all on one side would scarcely be safe. But do we desire a reaction Do we wish to roll back the world, like the lunatic and the young Englanders, to the middle ages 1Hardly. It is not necessary to do that in order to discriminate between the good and the bad in the tendencies of the polity now in vogue. Tests for discrimination are not difficult to find. Two occur to ustrans- parent impartiality of legislation, and modesty of legislation. It is well to have the utmost respect for conscience; but that sort of conscience is en- titled to no respect which will not be satisfied with- out coercing other peoples conscience. If we fully and impartially recognize liberty of conscience, we shall abstain from measures which, in matters of pure conviction, compel other people to do what we think right. Such a rule would quash all compul- sory restraints on holyday-making; it would leave the eremite free to his meditations, the hero to his manly exercises. Also, in matters of restriction or compulsion, we should refrain from active measures at least until we have distinct ideas on all these essential pointsthe necessity, mode, objects, and consequences of the proposed interference. Such a test, we suspect, would effectually stop some measures of doubtful policy. Least done, soonest mended, surely, when you dont very well know what it is you are doing, or what will come of it. There is neither wisdom nor virtue in rushing for- ward with statutes to settle questions still unsolved, unprobed, or even undiscussedSpectator, 8th May. From the Boston Post. & me Account of the Letheon; or, liT/mo was the Discoverer? By EDwARD WARREN. Discovery, by Charles T. Jackson, M. D., of the Applicability of Sulphuric Ether in Surgical Operations. By MARTIN GAY, M D. BOTH these pamphlets seem written in a spirit of honesty, by men entirely disinterested in the matter, as far as the pocket is concerned. Both, however, are strongly partisan in character. The former gives all, or nearly all, the credit of discov- ering and applying sulphuric ether, in surgical operations, to Dr. W. T. G. Morton, while the latter is even more exclusive in its awards to Dr. Charles T. Jackson. From a careful perusal of both, with their affidavits, letters, literary articles, & c., & c., we come to the following conclusions Firstthat Dr. Jackson has known for some years that sulphuric ether would produce insensi- bility to pain in some degree, and that, at inter.~ vals, he has tried it himself and has recommended it to several other individuals; but that, whether owing to natural cautiousness of disposition, to ten- derness for his professional reputation, to a lack of confidence in his discovery, or, what is yet more prob- able, to a mental obtuseness, which did not permit him to perceive how inestimable such a discovery would prove to his fellow-men, he did really noth- ing to bring it before the world. Moreover, the application of ether turns out to be so simple and innocent a thing that one cannot justify Dr. Jackson in having withheld his discovery, on the argument that it was not perfected. Still less should this delay on his part take credit from any one else who should make the same discovery during the time. Secondlythat Dr. Morton, for some months previous to the first public application of the ether, and before his first interview with Dr. Jackson in September last, had tried many experiments with ether, by which he had established the fact in his own mmd that the inhalation of ether would pro- duce insensibilitythat he called on Dr. Jackson to obtain some knowledge of the best kinds of ether, the proper means of application, and other collateral information; but that, from his conceal- ment from Dr. Jackson of the fact that he had pre- viously experimented with ether, and from his ap- parent ignorance of the nature of the article, Dr. Jackson was justified in supposing that he had made an original suggestion to Dr. Morton. Thirdlythat from Dr. Mortons calling on Dr. Jackson, instead of Dr. J. calling on Dr. M., it would appear that Dr. Morton was time active agent in the matter, and also that Dr. Jackson told him about the ether, without a thought that he was imparting any more wonderful information than a friendly physician would always impart to his pa- tient, or one friend to another. Still less does it appear that Dr. Jackson imagined that he was in- troducing to the world one of the greatest benefits ever discovered by man. Fourthlythat even for some time after Dr. Mortons successful experiments, Dr. Jackson did not claim any share in the discovery, but, on the other hand, spoke of Dr. Mortons ignorance and rashness in using the ether, of the impossihility of its rendering any one insensible to pain, and de- clared that he had nothing to do with the matter, and did not wish his name mixed up with it. Fifthlythat it was by the advice and persuasion of Dr. Mortons business agents that Dr. Jacksons name was included in the patent, as even joint dis- covererthat the latter was very unwilling to have it so included, hut averred that he should charge five hundred dollars for his professional services in suggesting the use of ether to Dr. Mortonthat Dr. Morton finally consented to have Dr. Jacksons name included in the patent, because a per centage on imatent rights would be the easiest way to pay the five hundred dollars, because Dr. Jackson had something to do with the discovery, and because it was thought that Dr. Jacksons reputation would at once give currency to the affair and make the thing take. We come to the above conclusions, on the sup- p(ssitiOO that all the evidence adduced on both sides is trite; and taking into view all the circumstances, we do not see why the patent which considers Drs. Jackson and Morton as joint discoverers, does r.it express about the true state of the case. They 75 76 WINE. got it up between them, as wascurrently reported soon after the first publicly successful experiments. At all events, it appears most probable that, had it not been for Dr. Morton, the discovery (even if considered as Dr. Jacksons) would have remained dormant, as had happened after the latters previous recommendation of ether. Dr. Morton tried it, and risked upon it his reputation, while Dr. Jackson stood aloof, risked nothing, and did not appear until it had not only been proved to produce the desired effect in dentistry and surgery, but until it began to be considered one of the great discover- ies of modern times, instead of the mere catch- penny nostrum of a young and almost unknown dentist. Dr. Morton introduced it to the hospital, or was the only one known in the matter by the surgeons of that institution. If Dr. Jackson kept so very quiet all these weeks, while in reality he was making a mere instrument of Dr. Morton, one can- not perceive that he has any one to blame but him- self, if the arm gets the credit which should belong to the head. But we do not imagine that such was the case. Dr. Morton was unquestionably benefited by the information obtained from Dr. Jackson; but the affidavits adduced prove that the former was as certain as the latter that the inhalation of ether would produce insensibility to some degree. Nei- ther knew, it seems probable, that this insensibility would be great enough to render painless the most horrible operations of surgery, or even to permit the perfectly painless extraction of teeth. Both knew something, and it is hard to decide which of the two, unaided by the other, would have soonest made their knowledge of service to their kind. Dr. Jackson had a high scientific reputation in the community to maintain, but of course he should take the risk of his exceeding cautiousness. Had Dr. Morton killed half a dozen people with his bags, tubes and gases, Dr. Jackson would have made a great gain by keeping as quiet as he did. Dr. Morton was enterprising, ambitious, and de- sirous of making money, doubtless; he believed the discovery to be just what he wanted, and did not fear to make the trial of it as often as he could catch a subject. His rashness and ignorance have cer- tainly done more good in this instance than all the science of the age, and he has been the envied in- strument of conferring an inestimable blessing on suffering humanity. We commend the pamphlets under notice to the careful attention of our readers. They contain many things to which we do not choose to advert, and many for whose discussion our whole paper is not large enough. We have, therefore, only given the conclusions to which we have arrived from their perusal. From the Spectator. WINE.* VIEWS which we have formerly expressed re- specting the restricted consumption of wine in Eng- land have received a remarkable corroboration from a quarter, nut indeed disinterested in the matter, but commanding excellent informationthe Bordeaux Association pour Ia Libert6 des Echanges. The origin of this society is worth noting. When Sir Robert Peels free-trade speech on the 29th of [* Our Temperance friends will excuse us for copying this article, which is chiefly interesting as connected with the brotherhood uf nations.LrvINc* ACE.] January, 1846, reached Bordeaux, it made a very great impression, and stimulated the old desire of that trading community to promote the principles of free trade in France There has been consequently organized in Bor- deaux a society styled Association pour la Libert6 des Echanges. It includes most of our merchants, with the mayor at their head, a great maoy landed proprietors, and numbers of persons of all profes- sions. It has, in fact, received the general appro- bation and support of the inhabitants, as the nu- merous and large subscriptions already received sufficiently attest; and, indeed, changes of the most encouraging nature have lately taken place in the principal organs uf the public press. The societys object is to obtain, by the use of every possible means, the repeal of all protective duties; these being considered as a great obstacle to the welfare of our population. Paris, Marseilles, and Lyons, have formed similar associations; which, united in their views, and having large stims at their disposal, will sooner or later exercise, no doubt, a preponderate influence over the public opinion of this country, and thereby over its commercial legislation. We have invited other nations to follow our ex- ample; the most satisfactory tokens appear in vari- ous quarters; but perhaps none is more satisfactory than this demonstration at Bordeaux. The mer- chants of that port, in advance of their country generallybolder than their government, whose conversion to free trade is so recent, and as yet so imperfectcall upon the English government for a step which would be quite consistent with our pro- fessed reliance on pure free trade, arid would be very instructive to France. The passage which we have quoted above is taken from a memorial ad- dressed by the merchants of Bordeaux to Lord John Russell as the successor to Sir Robert Peel, asking him to make such a reduction in the British duty on French wines as would render them an article of general consumption in the United Kingdom. The consumption of French wines has undergone great changes. While the population of the United Kingdom has increased, the consumption of such wines has positively fallen off. In 1795, the con- sumption in Great Britain only was more than 7,- 000,000 gallons: our population has about dt,uhled, and now the consumption in the whole United King- dom falls short. of 7,000,000 gallons. Something may be accountod for, in that decrease, on the score of temperancethe limited class that drinks wine consumes it in far less abundance than used to be the case. Intoxication was at one time fashionable; it is now, as a thing habitual or undisguised, infa- mous. Something may be accounted for on the score of taste; we have known persons of rude l)al- ate, especially rustic laborers, prefer a glass of ale or squalida cervogiato the most delicious wines. We have heard a German wine-merchant account for the English preference of strong alco- holic mixtures, including what the Italians call doctored winewine touched up with brandy from the highly-seasoned dishes of the country, which make light wines taste poor. But there are many answers to that statement. In the first place, the highly-seasoned dishes are to be found, not among the poor or the middle classes, but precisely among those of the wealthy classesmost perhaps among the very