SIMPSON~ S NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. 3 From the Quarterly Review. Narrative of the Discoveries on the North Coast of America, effected by the 0,/jicers of the Hudsons Bay Company, during the years 183639. By THOMAS SIMPSON, Esq. Svo. London; 1843. THIS, the last page in the history of the Brit- ish arctic exploration, is a melancholy one; for though the task undertaken was gallantly and successfully accomplished, the publication is post- humous, and the adventurous author lived not to wear the laurels so honorably won. His own recital is one which must be read by his country- men with satisfaction, only impaired by regret for his melancholy and mysterious fate. Its style, remarkable even beyond that of his recent prede- cessors for concision, is, like theirs, of that simple and unpretending character which best becomes the narrative of real enterprise and endurance. The achievements it records place the authors name on the long list of British worthies which begins with Frobisher. The utility of such achievements may indeed be questioned. To what purpose are the realms of all but eternal winter invaded by such repeated incursions l Why ex- pose the nose of man to the blast of the barrens, with the thermometer at 60~ below zero: and when government, weary of its efforts, abandons the task, why should officials of the Hudsons Bay Company exchange their proper functions as purveyors of peltry for those of navigators and geographers l The answer to all such utilitarian interrogatories rises spontaneously to the lips of every one who takes an interest either in the advancement of science or the honor of England. We are indeed no longer lured, like our ancestors, by the prospect of commercial advantages from a north-western communication with Japan or Cathay; but, without condescending to argue the question, we regret no past, we shall grudge no future expenditure, whether of money or heroism, which may have contributed, or hereafter may contribute, to the final discharge of one of Great Britains proper functions, the survey of the coast- line of North America. This primary object at- tained, it will yet remain to be shown that the North Pole itself is inaccessible, and that the diffi- culties of a north-west passage are insurmountable by British navigators. On both these questions we venture to refer our readers to our article, of the year 1840, on Wrangells expedition, vol. lxvi. p. 444. Meanwhile the Franklins, the Backs, and the Simpsons have left but little to be achieved to- wards the accomplishment of the coast survey. The extent of the hiatus remaining on our maps will be best understood by a reference to Mr. Simpsons instructions and the objects embraced in his enterprise. We call them Mr. Simpsons instructions in virtue of his authorship, and with- out fear of exciting any jealousy on the part of the able and veteran chief of the expedition, Mr. Dease, who appears to have conceded to his youth- ful subordinate, when occasion permitted, prece- dence in labor and fatigue, as well as in the scien- tific operations of the expedition, which were entirely in Mr. Simpsons hands. Mr. Deases merits and services are well known to the readers of Franklin and Back. The first object indicated in the instructions issued by the Hudsons Bay Company Directors, was the completion of that part of the coast survey to the westward of the Mackenzie River which had been left unfinished by Franklin and Beechey in 1826. Such of our readers as have not recently pored over the addi- tions to our arctic maps, contributed by successive expeditions, have to be reminded that in that year a combined operation was conducted, from the Pacific by Captain Beecliey, from the mouth of the Mackenzie River by Captain Franklin, in the hope that the two parties might meet somewhere on the coast. They failed in effecting their junc- tion, but how nearly they succeeded, the following dates and positions will show. On the 18th of August, the barge of Captain Beecheys vessel, the Blossom, quitted that ship off Icy Cape, and on the 22d, reached longitude 156~ 21 W., some 120 miles to the east~vard of their point of departure. Hence, after being em- bedded for some days in ice, and after her com- mander, Mr. Elson, had made up his mind to abandon her and return on foot, she was fortu- nately extricated, and made sail again to rejoin the Blossom on the 25th. On the 16th of August, Captain Franklin reached longitude l38~ 52 W.; and on the 17th, the weather cleared sufficiently to allow him, as he believed, to ascertain the posi- tion of a point of land to the westward, which he named after Captain Beechey; at which point he writes, longitude 1490 27, our discoveries ter- minated. Could I have known, he continues, or by any possibility imagined, that a party from the Blossom had been at the distance of only 160 miles from me, no difficulties, no dangers, no dis- couraging circumstances, should have prevailed upon me to return. It is a satisfaction to know that, in Sir John Franklins own opinion, founded on subsequent information, the attempt would have been fruitless, and probably fatal to all concerned. This interval, therefore, of somewhat less than 70 of longitude (averaging ~3 miles to a degree,) was all that, since 1826, remained to complete the survey from Mackenzie River westward to the Pacific; and that completion was indicated in the instructions as the first object of the expedition. It will be seen that it was effectually and speedily accomplished. To the eastward a wider field was open to con- jecture and discovery. In 1826, while Franklin was working to the west, his admirable coadjutor Richardson had surveyed the interval between the Mackenzie and Coppermine rivers. In 1834 Captain Back had descended the Tlewocho, or SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. Great Fish River, to its estuary; but he had been able to survey but little of the neighboring coast in either direction; and, with the exception of this point, the region between the 115th and 83d de- grees of longitude, from the Coppermine River to the offshoot, called Melville Peninsula, was still unexplored. It would appear from the instruc- tions that the exploration of this interval to its full eastward ex~tent did not enter into the immediate contemplation of the directors. The party is merely instructed, starting from the Coppermine, to reach, if possible, the scene of Captain Backs discoveries; deciding, as in case of success it must, on its way the question at issue between Sir John Ross and Sir George Back, whether Boothia, the land so named by the former officer, be a penin- sula joined on to the main land to the ~vest of the Tlewocho, or whether, as Back opined, a strait existed which had escaped Rosss observation. It will be seen that Mr. Simpson more than per- formed the service indicated in this instruction; that, after discovering and passing through the strait suspected by Sir G. Back, and thus disposing of the presumed peninsula, and of Sir J. Rosss famous discovery of a difference of level between the seas on either side, he followed the coast-line to some little extent beyond the point where Back was repelled by the advanced state of the season. From this summary it will be seen that, for some ten degrees of longitude, the coast of the conti- nent still presents a field for further adventure. We have been robbed of one peninsula, but it appears nearly certain that a considerable tract of land, of which the eastern continuous coast has been ascertained by Parry and Franklin, deserves the name it bears of Melville Peninsula; that it shoots out to the north for some 50 of latitude, and is joined to the main land by a narrow isthmus near Repulse Bay. This latter fact does not in- deed rest as yet on actual observation, but there is every reason to put faith in the Esquimaux ac- counts, which bring a gulf of the Polar Sea to within 40 or 50 miles of Repulse Bay. Our authors narrative is prefaced by an inter- esting though meagre sketch of his biography, by the pen of a surviving brother. The boy is not always father to the man. The transformation of a sickly and timid youth, educated for the Scottish church, into the hardy man who walks fifty miles a-day in snow-shoes, is one of those phenomena which we believe to be quite as common as the instances of juvenile promise and precocious apti- tude for a particular career so often traced out by the biographers of eminent men. In 1829, at the age of twenty-one, Mr. Simpson, despairing of early advancement in the Kirk, and averse from the usual resource of private tuition, accepted from the governor of theHudsons Bay Company, Mr., now Sir George Sinipson(a relative, we pre- sume, but in what degree is not stated)an offer of employment under the Company, and sailed for North America. By the same powerful interest it appears that he was appointed, in 1836, to the second station in command of the expedition which forms the subject of the present narrative. There can be no doubt that during his apprenticeship he showed qualities which justified his selection, and no one who peruses the record will accuse the governor of nepotism. To any one acquainted with the numerous works of Mr. Simpson~s predecessors, his volume can of course present little attraction in the way of novelty. The iiicidents, whether of the sum- mefs journey or the winters residence at one of the Company~s forts, admit of little variety, as de- scribed either by a Back or a Simpson. The same exertions of fortitude and endurance, the same devices of skill and ingenuity to meet danger in its various forms of river-rapid, of marine ice, of fog, and squall, and current, are required of each suc- cessive arctic adventurer; but the simplicity and concision of the present narrative prevents weari- ness even with these details. There is one fact, evidence of which pervades the volume, and which makes us rise from its perusal with peculiar satis- faction; we mean the truly humanizing and Chris- tian effect of the operations of the IThdsons Bay Compa~ny on the aboriginal tribes. The period is not distant when the bella plusquam civilia, which raged between the Hudsons Bay Company and a rival association, reddened the desert with other blood than thatof the beaver or musk-ox. The blessings, indeed, usually bestowed by the white Christian on the red heathen are soon enumerated; fire-arms, fire-water, and the small-pox; but probably in no part of the world had the European invaders set a worse example to the native tribes than here, or enlisfed them into more savage con- tests than those which raged, within the present century, within the dominions and between the subjects of the British crown in North America. It is perhaps useless now to inquire into the rela- tive guilt of the parties engaged, and to attempt to discriminate between aggression and lawful resist- ance. The true history of such contests would rival in unprofitable tedium the Florentine and Pisan wars of Guicciardini. We know no better picture of the character of the struggle than is to be found in the work of Mr. Ross Cox, a gentle- man who from an adventurous trader has become an efficient and trusted officer of the Irish police. His narrative, published in 1830, has scarcely an equal for incident and adventure, unless it be in Mr. Irvines charming volume, the Adventures of the Followers of Columbus. ~Ve shall have occasion to remark, that some of his observations on the habits of native tribes derive confirmation from the volume under review. It is gratifying to us, as Englishmen and Christians, to be able to show the reverse of such a picture. Subsequently to the coalition effected between the two compa- nies in 1821, their system towards the natives appears to have been one wbich howard and Wil- berforce would have approved, and might have di- 4 SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. 5 rected. Sufficient proofs of this fact appear at the outset of Mr. Simpsons volume, even in his de- scription, though cursory, of the Red River set- tiement, from which he started for his journey. The untiring efforts of the Companys Church establishment, Protestant and Roman Catholic, extend from Labrador to the Pacificfrom where the rattlesnake basks in the hot summer of climes westward of the Rocky mountains, to where the Indian ceases to roam, and the Esquimaux be- comes the sole representative of humanity. These exertions are not the less creditable if, as Mr. Simpson, we fear truly, states, they are often unrewarded: not always however. In the mari- time districts of the far West the Indian charac- ter is softened, as he states, by the influences of the Pacific; food is abundant, man congregates in villages, and here the labors of the missionaries promise every success. Even among the wander- ing hunters of the North the endeavors of the Company to check the supply of spirituous liquors and to instil morality, have not been unavailing. Mr. Simpson says No stronger proof of the salutary effect of the injunctions of the Companys officers can be adduced than that, while peace and decorum mark the general character of the Northern tribes, bloodshed, rapine, and unbridled lust are the char- acteristics of the fierce hordes of Assiniboines, Pigeons, Blackfeet, Circees, Fall and Blood In- dians who inhabit the plains between the Sas- katchewan and Missouri, and are without the pale of the Companys influence and authority.p. 19. Mr. Simpson goes on to describe a reconciliation effected by the sole influence of the Company be- tween the Saulteaux and Sioux nations, till lately inveterate and bloody enemies. On the 1st of December, 1836, Mr. Simpson quitted the Red River settlement for Athabasca. This preliminary journey, of one thousand two hundred and seventy-seven statute miles, was completed with singular precision on the very day prefixed for its termination, the 1st of February. For the first three days, as far as the Manitobak Lake, the nature of the country and the state of the weather permitted the use of horses and wheel carriages. The remainder of the journey was per- formed on foot, the baggage being conveyed on sledges drawn by dogs. rhe authors route enabled him to enjoy the seasonable hospitality of three of the Company~s stations between the Red River and the Athabascan station, Fort Chipe- wayan, destined for his residence till the period when returning spring should enable him to effect the descent of the Coppermine River. The first point decided on at this station was, that instead of building, according to the letter of their instructions, one large boat for their future expe- dition, they should construct two of smaller dimen- sions; a measure to which Mr. Simpson attributes the ultimate safety and success of the party. This portion of the authors narrative exhibits further gratifying evidence of the influence of the Coin- pany on the character of the Chipewayan Indians; and of the establishment of friendly relations be- tween this race and the Esquimaux. The wanton and relentless massacre of the latter, described by Ilearne, is a specimen of the former habits of the natives, conspicuous by its contrast to the present state of things; and the regulati9ns of the Com- pany for the prevention of the sale of spirits, and for the supply of necessaries to the Indian, seem admirable in effect as well as intention. The expedition set sail from Athabasca on the 1st of June. On the 10th it reached the Great Slave Lake, where, for eleven weary days, it suf- fered provoking detention by the ice, and it was not till the 29th that it entered the great River Mack- enzie. Fort Good Hope, situated in lat. 66~ 16, the most northerly station of the Company, was reached on the 5th of July, and at 4 P. M. of the 9th, the Arctic Ocean burst on the view of the par- ty. The expedition plodded its westward way along the coast surveyed by Franklin in 182~, meeting and overcoming the usual difficulties of such a route, and holding friendly but cautious in- tercourse with various families of Esquimaux, till it reached Franklins Return Reef on the 23d. rhe weather here became stormy, and the tem- perature such as to bring the winter-dresses of the party into requisition. The ice drove them occa- sionally almost beyond sight of the coast, but one happy run of twenty-five hours effected nearly half the distance between the point reached by Franklin and the Point Barrow, from which Captain Beech- eys barge returned in 1826. In this interval the mouths of two considerable rivers were discovered. Of one of these, named by the party the Colville, Mr. Simpson remarks (p. 171): Thatit separates the Franklin and Pelly mountains1 the last seen by us, and probably flows in a long course through a rich fur country and unknown tribes on the west side of the Rocky mountains. Mr. Simpson thinks that it is probably identical with a river of which Mr. Campbell, one of the most adventurous of the Companys servants, who has pushed its estab- lishments into the Rocky mountains and to the con- fines of the Russian territory, received accounts from the natives; if so, it has a course of at least 1000 English miles. It appears that Mr. Campbell, in 1839, narrowly escaped massacre and starvation at the hands of the Nahanie indians, but that his future operations are likely to be facilitated by a transaction with the Russian Governor, the emni- nent Baron Wrangel, by which the Russian line of coast as far as Cape Spencer is leased to the Com- pany. On the 28th they hauled up their boats on a cape, in longitude 1540, which they named after Governor Simpson. The ice now rapidly accu- mulated, and on the 31st Mr. Simpson writes From the extreme coldness of the weather and the interminable ice, the further advance of our boats appeared hopeless. In four days we had only made good as many miles, and in the event of a late return to the Mackenzie, we had every SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. reason to apprehend being set fast in Bear Lake river, or at least at Fort Franklin, which would have been ruinous to our future plans. I there- fore lost no time in imparting to Mr. Dease my desire of exploring the remainder of the coast to Point Barrow on foot. In order to secure the safe retreat of the party, he handsomely consented to remain with the boats; and as Point Barrow was still distant only two degrees of longitude, ten or twelve days were considered sufficient for my re- turn. The author therefore, selecting five com- panions, started on his pedestrian expedition on the 1st of August. While the boats had been forcing their way through the shore ice to Cape Simpson, the appearance of the ice to seaward had been so smooth and solid that the party had longed for horses and carioles to drive at once to Point Bar- row. Our author could not, indeed, resort to this expedient to facilitate the interesting labor of the remaining interval of unexplored coast. He could not call a coach, but he did better, for finding the sea open he called an oomiakone of the large family- boats of the Esquimaux which bear that name. The incident of his meeting with the family which supplied him with the loan of this invaluable con- veyance was certainly one of the most fortunate of his journey. The taste for tobacco, acquired from intercourse with the Russians, was a passport to their good graces. Among other mutual civilities Mr. Simpson exchanged his travelling service of plate, consisting of a tin pan, for a platter made out of a mammoth tusk, as appropriate to his daily mess of pemmican as pewter to the draught be- loved by metropolitan coalheavers. The Esqui- rnaux suffered him without scruple to select the best of three oomiaks for his purpose. These boats float in half a foot of water, and the one selected bounded gallantly over the high waves of an inlet five miles wide, which would have cost him a weary march to circumvent by land. Disregarding the portentous appearance of young ice and the land- ward flight of wild fowl, omens of approaching winter, and occasionally carrying their light craft over the older ice, they hurried onward to their goal, and reached it with triumph and gratitude on the morning of the 4th. Point Barrow, henceforth famous as the focus to ~vhich British enterprise from west and east has successfully converged, is described as a long, low spit of gravel, some five miles across. It appears to be a place of considerable resort; a kind of Brighton to the Esquimaux, a summer camp, a ~vinter burrow, and a fashionable burying-place. Mr. Elson, in 18%, had been deterred, by the hostile demeanor of the natives, from attempts at intercourse; but Mr. Simpson was bolder, and though the natives were numerous, and their de- monstrations at first suspicious, he opened with them a brisk and friendly intercourse, exchanging the ever current coin of tobacco for seal-skin boots, water-proof shirts of seals entrails, ivory toys, & c. Dances followed, performed by Ceritos in deer- skin unmentionables; and it was not till Mr. Simpson launched again on the ocean, averting his prow reluctantly from a lane of open water which invited him to Behrings Straits, that an nt- tempt to steal his paddles, and some appearance of a disposition to misdirect Itis course, afforded any ground for apprehending tad intentions. He was soon joyfully received by the party from whom he had borrowed his frail but buoyant and effective conveyance; and as he required its further use, four of them readily consented to accompany him in. their canoes. These people displayed acute sensibility to the power of music, listening with delight to the French and Highland boat-songs of the party. This sensibility is shared by the In- dian tribe of Loucheux, but strange to say, is not found among their neighbors the Chipewayans. These distinctive peculiarities among races in jux- taposition are interesting, and not confined to sav- age tribes. We doubt whether, in this respect of musical faculty, the Loucheux differ more from the Chipewnyans than do the natives of the hilly dis- tricts of Lancashire and Derbyshire from those of some neighboring counties. In discussing the ori- gin of the native tribes, Mr. Simpson (after at- tributing, as we think, on very questionable grounds, and differing with his predecessors in discovery, an European origin to the Esquimaux) enumerates several distinct families (if Indians, whom he supposes to have migrated from Asia, but who have preserved the most decided differ- ences of language and customs. He mentions the practice prevalent in New Caledonia of burning the dead, and of subjecting the widow to various degrading and painful observances, which proba- bly indicate an Hindoo affinity, though not extend- ing to the suttee of Hitidostan. Mr. Ross Cox had the opportunity of observing this practice, which ~ve believe the influence of the Company has since nearly abolished. We have lately seen it stated that in the Marquesas Islands the ocean is substituted for the pile, and the widow is sunk with the corpse of her partner. With all respect for the philosophers of the last century, who en- deavored to set up the superiority of savage over civilized man, we prefer the more cumbrous con- trivance of jointure, with all its delays to impatient lovers and burthens on heirs. Mr. Simpson was certainly as fortunate in avoid- ing collision with the natives as in procuring as- sistance from them ; but the measure of proceed- ing with so small a party was, with reference to theni, one of extreme hazard. The usual source of collision is the inability of the savage to resist temptation to pilfer. We have seen that at Point Barrow this risk occurred. Mr. Dease also, while waiting the return of the party, had to protect him- self from similar attempts. Man hates and fears those whom he has injured. Mr. Simpson justly observes, that should the Russians ever furnish the Esquimaux with fire-arms, the day of discov- ery with small parties will be over. This was, 6 SIMPSON~ S NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. however, the only juncture at which the natives were met with in force sufficient to create danger; and though it was certainly a critical one, the object in view was one of those which justify a rush at the fence without a scrutiny into the pos- sible ditch at the other side. While the operations above described were in progress, a party, left behind at Furt Good Hope, had ascended the Bear Lake River, and established themselves on the lake of that name to prepare the winter residence of the expedition. The ascent of the stream, however, had been one of difficulty, conducted between impending walls of ice, in some instances forty feet high. Thirty miles of such navigation had cost a fortnights labor, and the passage of the lake itself was scarcely less difficult. It was not till the 17th of August, the day on which the coasting party re& aered the Mackenzie River, that the building party reached the scene of its labors, named Fort Confidence. Mr. Simpsons arrival here occurred on the 29th of September. They found their simple and diminu- tive log dwellings finished as well as the scanty materials of the country allowed, but miserably inadequate to the climate. An express soon after reached them, conveying, among other intelli- gence, that of Sir. G. Backs intended expedition to Wager Inlet, and affording hopes of a meeting with that officer in the course of the summer, which were frustrated by the well-kn6wn failure of his gallant efforts. rrhe incidents of the winter residence demand little comment. From the 11th of November to the end of January the tempera- ture ranged from 320 to 330 below zero. Occa- sionally, however, it descended to 50~ and when at 490 the author cast a bullet of quicksilver, which, fired from a pistol at ten paces, passed through an inch plank. The students of Liebig will not be surprised to hear that, when abundance permitted, the daily ration of an individual was from eight to twelve pounds of venison. On some occasions it appears that the allowance to the Companys servants has been fourteen pounds of moose or buffalo. We apprehend that bone is included, but the amount is yet enormous, as com- pared witl the consumption of man in temperate climates. The great chemist clearly explains why this large amount of solid and nitrogenized food should be not only innocent but salutary under an arctic temperature. How far, however, it be necessary, and how great the additioii desirable for due enjoyment, or essential to the healthy condi- tion of the frame, apart from the adventitious conse- quences of habit, may he doubted. We have at least reason to doubt that the officers of these ex- peditions, whose education and habits removed them from the influences of idleness and mere sen- suality, have felt and had occasion to satisfy any inordinate cravings. Experience and theory alike condemn the use of spirituous liquors as aids to ex- ertion in these climates.* We have been assured that in the Russian expedition 7 The 11th of March exhibited the greatest de- gree of cold observed. A spirit thermometer, more scrupulous than its fellows, stood at 6O~, an older one at 66g. Had Mr. Simpsons ardent mind and powerful frame been totally unoccupied dur~pg his long and wearisome detention, he might have been driven to the remedy which our French neighbors accuse us of adopting for low spirits, and have committed an appropriate suicide with a quicksilver bullet. He was not, however, driven to this resource. His winter excursions, on Great Bear Lake and the neighboring barrens, exceeded a thousand miles. On the 27th of March he set out, with two men and four dogs, to explore the country between Bear Lake and the Coppermine, their intended pathway to the sea. Buried in the snow- drift of a north-easter, scarcely broken by the screen of a few dwarf spruces, the author naturally felt it difficult to comprehend how people could perish in an English snow-storm in the hot desert of Salisbury Plain, or the tropical regions of Shap Fell. Indian education begins early. Lewis and Clarke describe equestrians of some two years old using both whip and bridle with vigor and effect. An unweaned member of an Indian family reached Fort Confidence on snow shoes two feet in length I must not, says Mr. Simpson, close this part of the narrative without bestowing a just encomium on the generally docile character of the natives of Great Bear Lake. They soon become attached to white men, and are fond of imitating their manners. In our little hall I have repeatedly seen the youngsters who were most about us get up from their chairs, and politely hand them to any of our people who happened to enter. Some of them even learned to take off their caps in the house, and to wash instead of greasing their faces. Their indulgent treatment of their women, who indeed possess the mastery, was noticed by Sir J. Franklin. I wish I could speak as favorably of their honesty and veracity.p. 243. The next great object of Mr. Simpsons instruc- tions was, as we have stated, to trace the unex- plored interval from Franklins point Turnagain to the Tlewocho estuary. For this object he was to reach the coast by the Coppermine River, with the choice, as far as his instructors could give it, of spending one or two seasons on the attempt, and of returning by whichever of the two rivers he might prefer. He started on the 6th of June, ascended the Dease River, crossed the Dismal Lakes on the still solid ice, partly with the assist- ance of sails, and launching on the Kendal River reached the confluence of that stream with the Coppermine on the 20th. The rapids of the Cop- permine made of the descent and ascent of that river perhaps the two most critical operations of the expedition. Franklin had descended them in July, when at their summer level; they were now to Khiva, those who, avoiding the use of spirits, confined themselves to tea, alone survived. SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. in spring flood, but skill and nerve brought the party through. We extract the following pas- sage The day was bright arid lovely as we shot down rapid after rapid; in many of which we had to pull for our lives to keep out of the suction of the precipices, along whose base the breakers raged and foamed with overwhehning fury. Short- ly before noon we came in sight of the Escape Rapid of Franklin, and a glance at the overhang- ing cliffs told us that there was no alternative but to run down with full cargo. In an instant we were in the vortex; and, before we were aware, my boat was borne towards an isolated rock which the boiling surge almost concealed. To clear it on the outside was no longer possible; our only chance of safety was to run between it and the lofty eastern cliff. The word was passed, and every breath was hushed. A stream, which dashed down upon us over the brow of the precipice more than a hundred feet in height, mingled with the spray that whirled upwards from the rapid, form- ing a terrific shower-bath. The pass was about eight feet wide, and the error of a single foot on either side would have been instant destruction. As, guided by Sinclairs consummate skill, the boat shot safely through those jaws of death, an invol- untary cheer arose.p. 258. If it had appeared strange to Mr. Simpson, with his thermometer at 50~, that people should perish of cold in England, during this performance he must have been equally at a loss to account for the destruction of life which so often used to attend the shooting of Old London Bridge. From the 1st to the 17th of July the part.y were detained by the ice at the mouth of the Copper- mine. From the latter date to the 19th of August they were occupied in struggling along the coast to the point reached by Franklin in 18-21, and here the prospect before them showed that they had drawn a blank in the lottery of arctic summers. On the 16th of August Franklin had seen a per- fectly open sea from this point. Before them now, to the eastward, lay an unbroken barrier of ice, glit- tering with snow, evidently destined soon to unite with the new formation of approaching winter. Behind them the disjointed masses through which they had forced their way kept closing in under the pressure of violent gales. Mr. Simpson, under these discouraging circumstances, again decided on the experiment of a pedestrian journey of explor- ation for some ten days with seven of the party, to be followed by Mr. Dease with the remaining five men in one of their two boats, should wind and weather so far change as to permit. This enter- prise was well rewarded. Franklins furthest point was passed on the 21st. From a cape named after that officer, a little beyond that point, land was seen twenty or twenty-five miles to the northward, and stretching from west to north-east. Was this land insular or continental,-were the party coast- ing a bay or the shore of a continuous sea? This interesting question was solved on the 23d, on which day Mr. Simpson writes The coast led somewhat more to the north- ward. The travelling was exceedingly painful.. We, however, advanced with spirit, all hands being in eager expectation respecting the great northern land, which seemed interminable. Along its distant shore the beams of the declining sun were reflected from a broad channel of open water; while on the coast we were tracing the ice lay still immovable, and extended man~r miles to seaward. As we drew near in the eveniiig an elevated cape, land appeared all round, and our worst fears seemed confirmed. With bitter disappointment I ascended the height, from whence a vast and splendid l)rospect burst suddenly upon me. The sea, as if transformed by enchantment, rolled its free waves at my feet, and beyond the range of vision to the eastward. Islands, of various shape and size, overspread its surface ; and the northern land terminated to the eye in a bold and lofty cape, bearing east-north-east, thirty or forty miles dis- tant, while the continental coast trended away south-east. I stood in fact on a remarkable head- land at the eastern outlet of an ice-obstructed strait. On the extensive land to the northward I bestowed the name of our most gracious sovereign, Queen Victoria. Its eastern visible extremity I called Cape Pelly, in compliment to the governor of the Hudsons Bay Company, and the promontory where we encamped Cape Alexander, after an only brother, who would give his right hand to be the sharer of my journeys.~~ With these discoveries Mr. Simpson for this season was forced to content himself They were not in themselves, he observes, unimportant ; but their value was much enhanced by the disclosure of an open sea to the eastward, and the suggestion of a new routealong the southern coast of Victoria Landby which that open sea might be attained while the shores of the continent were yet environed by an impenetrable barrier of ice, as they were this season. p. 300. On the 29th they rejoined Mr. Dease and his party, who had continued ice-bound till the day previous, when he wisely judged it too late to attempt progress by sea to the eastward. The course now adopted by the party is best explained and vindicated in Mr. Simpsons own words The bad weather and advanced season now rendered every one anxious to return to winter quarters, and I reluctantly acquiesced in the gen- eral sentiment; but for doing so I had reasons peculiar to myself. I considered that we could not now expect to reach Backs Great Fish River; that by exploring a part only of the unknown coast intervening, our return to the Coppermine must be so long protracted as to preclude the possibility of taking the boats up that bad river; and that by abandoning them on the coast to the Esquimau~ we excluded the prospect of accomplishing the who/c by a third voyage, with the benefit perhaps of a inure propitious season. Three great travel- lers, Hearue, Franklin, and Richardson, had suc- cessively pronounced the ascent of the Copper- mine, above the Bloody [all, to be impracticable with boats; and our l)eople, recollecting only the violence amid impetuosity of onr descent, entertained the same opinion. Fully aware of the great im- portance of this point to any future operations, I had with a careful eye inspected every part of the river, and formed in my own mind the following S SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. 9 conclusions respecting the upward navigation 1st. That in a river of that size there must always be a lead somewhere, of depth enough for light boats. 2d. That the force of the rapids would be found much abated, and that with strong ropes the worst of them might be surmoun~d. 3d. From the fury of the breakers in June I inferred the existence at no great depth of a narrow projecting ledge of reek that. bared by the falling of the waters, would afford footing ~o the towing-party, without which the ascent indeed must have baflied all our efforts.p. 303. These views proved in the sequel to be just and well-founded. We refer our readers to the nar- rative to learn how highly indeed the skill and coura go of the party were taxed to demonstrate the soundness of the above conclusions. Every danger, however, was baffled, and every difficulty sur- mounted; and on the 14th the party regained Fort Confidence in safety. The summer of 1839 proved more favorable to the task of discovery than its predecessor. On reaching the Coppermine, on the 19th of June, the party found that the ice had ceased to drift down on the 16th, ten days earlier than the last year. The rapids were passed with far greater facility and on reaching Cape Barrow, on the 18th of July, they found the wide extent of Coronation Gulf partially open. Threading the ice across the inlet to Cape Franklin, they met with, instead of the unbroken barrier which had foiled them last year, an open channel two miles wide along the main. On the 8th of August they had followed the coast as far as the 99th degree of longitude; i. e. some 11 degrees to the eastward of their point of de- parture. On the 10th, Mr. Simpson writes We proceeded north-eastward all day among the islands, and some began to apprehend that we had lost the continent altogether, till in the evening we opened a strait running in to the southward of east, while the rapid rush of the tide from that quarter left no longer any room to doubt the neigh- borhood of an open sea leading to the mouth of Back~s Great Fish River. * * * I must candidly acknowledge, he continues, that we were not prepared to find so southerly a strait lead- ing to the estuary of the Great Fish River, but rather expected first to double Cape Felix of Cap- tain James Ross, towards which the coast had been latterly trending. The extensive land, on which that conspicuous cape stands, forms the northern shore of the strait through which we passed on the 11th ; and which led us, the same afternoon, by an outlet only three miles wide to the much desired eastern sea. That glorious sight was first boheld by myself from the top of one of the high limestone islands; and I had the satis- faction of announcing it to some of the men, who, incited by curiosity, followed me thither. The joyful news was soon conveyed to Mr. Dease, who was with the boats at the end of the island, about half a mile off; and even the most desponding of our people forgot for the time the great distance we should have to return to winter quarters, though a wish that a party had been appointed to meet us somewhere on the Great Fish River, or even at Fort Reliance, was frequently expressed. A strong wind from the westward rapidly extri- cated the party from the labyrinth of islands which had long impeded their voyage; and on the 13th, says Mr. Simpson, On doubling a very sharp point, that offered a lee spot for the boats, I landed, and saw before me a perfect sandy desert. It was Backs Psint Sir C. Og~e that we had at length reached ! Here then the authors performance of his duty, as designated by his instructions, was complete; but he wus naturally desirous to push his exploration as far to the eastward beyond Sir G. Backs limit a5 the season would permit. He still considered it possible that the isthmus, the existence of which in the region assigned to it by Sir John Ross, he had disproved, might be found further eastward. The men assented without a murmur to the unexpected prolongation of their hard ser- vicea circumstance which says much for them, and for the commanders who had won their attach- ment. The Great Fish River and the other streams which reach this coast flow through un- wooded regions; a fact which much aggravates the condition of the coast navigator, who finds no drift-wood for fuel, and on his shivering bivouac is reduced to uncooked peinmican and cold water for his diet. The latter luxury itself was scarce among the islands; strong north-east winds pre- vailed, and one of Sir G. Backs stores, on Mon.. treal Island, to which they were directed by MKay, one of that officers expedition, afforded nothing but pemmican alive with maggots, and chocolate rotten with five years decay. In the teeth of all these difficulties they persevered, run- ning over from Montreal Island to the e~atern coast, to a cape somewhat north of Cape Hay, the extreme point seen by Sir G. Back, to which they gave the name of Britannia. hence, with a fair wind and tossing sea, they made a run of thirty miles to a cape which they christened after the name of Lord Selkirk; and some three miles fur- ther, on the 20th, the return of the north-east wind forced them into the mouth of a small river. It was now, says Mr. Simpson, quite evi- dent to us, even in our most sanguine mood, that the time was come for commencing our retreat to the distant Coppermine River, and that any further foolhard3~erseverance could only lead to the loss (If the whole party, and also of the great object which we had so successfully achieved. The men were therefore directed to construct another nmonu- ment in commemoration of our visit; while Mr. Dease and I walked to an eminence three miles off, to see the further trending ef the coast. Our view of the low main shore was limited to about five miles, when it seenmed to turn off more to the right. Far without lay several lofty islands, and in the northeast, more distant still, appeared some high blue land; this, which we designated Cape Sir J. Ross, is in all probability one of the south- eastern promontories of Boothia. We could there- fore hardly doubt being now arrived at that large gulf uniformly described by the Esquimaux as con- taining many islands, and with numerous indenta- tions, running down to the southward till it ap 10 SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. proaches within forty miles of Repulse and Wager Bays. The exploration of such a gulf to the strait of the Fury and Hecla would necessarily demand the whole time and energies of another expedition, having some point of retreat much nearer to the scene of operations than Great Bear Lake; mid we felt assured that the Honorable Company who had already done so much in the cause of discovery, would not abandon their munificent work till the precise limits of this great continent were fully and finally established.p. 376. After all that has been accomplished, the nil actum reputans of Juvenal would be an exaggera- tion, but we confess we sympathize with the hope here expressed, and are satisfied that the Company might easily accomplish the remaining task, prob- ably by making one of their establishments on the eastern coast,Fort Churchill, for instance ,the starting place or base of their operation. The mouth of the stream which bounded the last career of the admirable little boats, and received their name, the Castor and Pollux, lies in latitude 680 28 23 North, longitude 940 14 West; or, adopt- ing Backs longitude, which for some reason Simp- son could not reconcile with his own, in longitude 93~ 7 30. The expedition, on its return, instead of pursuing the shores of the main land, coasted the southern shores of Boothia, and their new dis- covery, Victoria Land; the former for nearly sixty- seven miles, to within fifty-seven miles of Rosss pillar, and within ninety miles of the magnetic pole. Their run along Victoria Land amounted to upwards of one hundred and seventy miles. Their winds were favorable, their navigation, though sometimes rough for craft so light, was prosperous, and on the 10th, having triumphantly crossed the strait of fifty miles, to Cape Barrow, they revelled once more in the luxury of a drift- wood fire, to which they had been strangers since July. The party regained the Coppermine River on the 16th of September, after the longest voyage yet performed by boats in the Polar seain all one thousand six hundred and thirty-one statute miles. It would remain for us to notice the sad and mysterious termination of a life so distinguished by enterprise and honorable service, but the task is distressing; and, as we could do nothi4 towards elucidating the truth, we leave our readers to read for themselves in the preface the few ascertained particulars of the occurrence. It is more than enough for us to know that Mr. Simpson perished by violence on his way from the Red River settle- ment towards England. It is just possible that some tardy confession, or some word spoken in the veracity of intoxication, may confirm our own impression that, after killing two of his half-breed companions in self-defence, he was murdered in revenge. Till then the possibility may be, how- ever reluctantly, admitted, of the tale as told by the survivors, that insanity was the cause of the catastrophe. More fortunate, in one sense, than Parke or Hudson, he has left behind him his own record of his own achievements. And we cannot close the volume without once more remarking on its literary merit. For judicious selection of topics and incidents, for clearness and simplicity of description, ~ is the model of a diary, and like the masculine and modest chljracter of the mail, reflects honor on Mr. Simpso~is venerable Alma Mater, Kings College, Aberdeen. From the Quarterly Review. History of the Conquest of Mexico, with a Preliminary View of Ike Ancient Mexican Civilization, and the Life of the Conqueror, Hernando Cortes. By WILLIAM H. PREs- COTT. 3 vols. 8 vo. London; 1843. IN his excellent history of Ferdinand and Isa- bella, Mr. Prescott had the advantage of entering upon ground not pre~iccupied by any of the great modern historians. He now ventures to measure his strength with the Spaniard De Solis, and with Robertson. De Solis, whose swelling style was so peculiarly congenial to the Spanish ear, by the higher merits of his work, his skilful arrangement, his animation and dramatic power, as well as by the inextinguishable interest of his story, com- manded considerable popularity even in the English translation. The narrative of Robertson has all the charm of his inimitable style. The conquest of Mexico is but one chapter, indeed, in his history of America; but it seems to have been labored with peculiar care, till every vestige of labor has disappeared, and the story flows on with the ease and gracefulness of a romance. Yet ancient Mexico, and the adventures of her Spanish conquerors, may still afford full scope for the labor and the genius of an historian, who may aspire to tell the story in a more Christian and enlightened spirit than the bigot De Solis; on a more extended scale, and with a full command of the stores of knowledge which have accumulated since the time both of iDe Sohis~and of Robertson. If, indeed, we are to judge from the astonishment expressed by some persons, who at least might be supposed familiar with such works as Robertsons, at the discoveries of Mr. Stephens among the ancient cities in Mexico and the adjacent provinces, it might appear full time to revive the history of the conquest in the public mind. This surprise seemed to imply an utter forgetfulness of the state of the country at the time of the Spanish conquest; that it was not a wild forest wandered over by savage hunters, or a land peopled by simple and naked Caribs; but, the seat of more than one com- paratively ancient, powerful and wealthy monarchy, containing many large and populous cities, embel- lished with vast buildings, chiefly temples; and advanced to a high state of what we may venture to call, without pledging ourselves to its origin, Asiatic civilization. Mr. Prescott possesses high qualifications, and

10 SIMPSONS NARRATIVE OF DISCOVERIES. proaches within forty miles of Repulse and Wager Bays. The exploration of such a gulf to the strait of the Fury and Hecla would necessarily demand the whole time and energies of another expedition, having some point of retreat much nearer to the scene of operations than Great Bear Lake; mid we felt assured that the Honorable Company who had already done so much in the cause of discovery, would not abandon their munificent work till the precise limits of this great continent were fully and finally established.p. 376. After all that has been accomplished, the nil actum reputans of Juvenal would be an exaggera- tion, but we confess we sympathize with the hope here expressed, and are satisfied that the Company might easily accomplish the remaining task, prob- ably by making one of their establishments on the eastern coast,Fort Churchill, for instance ,the starting place or base of their operation. The mouth of the stream which bounded the last career of the admirable little boats, and received their name, the Castor and Pollux, lies in latitude 680 28 23 North, longitude 940 14 West; or, adopt- ing Backs longitude, which for some reason Simp- son could not reconcile with his own, in longitude 93~ 7 30. The expedition, on its return, instead of pursuing the shores of the main land, coasted the southern shores of Boothia, and their new dis- covery, Victoria Land; the former for nearly sixty- seven miles, to within fifty-seven miles of Rosss pillar, and within ninety miles of the magnetic pole. Their run along Victoria Land amounted to upwards of one hundred and seventy miles. Their winds were favorable, their navigation, though sometimes rough for craft so light, was prosperous, and on the 10th, having triumphantly crossed the strait of fifty miles, to Cape Barrow, they revelled once more in the luxury of a drift- wood fire, to which they had been strangers since July. The party regained the Coppermine River on the 16th of September, after the longest voyage yet performed by boats in the Polar seain all one thousand six hundred and thirty-one statute miles. It would remain for us to notice the sad and mysterious termination of a life so distinguished by enterprise and honorable service, but the task is distressing; and, as we could do nothi4 towards elucidating the truth, we leave our readers to read for themselves in the preface the few ascertained particulars of the occurrence. It is more than enough for us to know that Mr. Simpson perished by violence on his way from the Red River settle- ment towards England. It is just possible that some tardy confession, or some word spoken in the veracity of intoxication, may confirm our own impression that, after killing two of his half-breed companions in self-defence, he was murdered in revenge. Till then the possibility may be, how- ever reluctantly, admitted, of the tale as told by the survivors, that insanity was the cause of the catastrophe. More fortunate, in one sense, than Parke or Hudson, he has left behind him his own record of his own achievements. And we cannot close the volume without once more remarking on its literary merit. For judicious selection of topics and incidents, for clearness and simplicity of description, ~ is the model of a diary, and like the masculine and modest chljracter of the mail, reflects honor on Mr. Simpso~is venerable Alma Mater, Kings College, Aberdeen. From the Quarterly Review. History of the Conquest of Mexico, with a Preliminary View of Ike Ancient Mexican Civilization, and the Life of the Conqueror, Hernando Cortes. By WILLIAM H. PREs- COTT. 3 vols. 8 vo. London; 1843. IN his excellent history of Ferdinand and Isa- bella, Mr. Prescott had the advantage of entering upon ground not pre~iccupied by any of the great modern historians. He now ventures to measure his strength with the Spaniard De Solis, and with Robertson. De Solis, whose swelling style was so peculiarly congenial to the Spanish ear, by the higher merits of his work, his skilful arrangement, his animation and dramatic power, as well as by the inextinguishable interest of his story, com- manded considerable popularity even in the English translation. The narrative of Robertson has all the charm of his inimitable style. The conquest of Mexico is but one chapter, indeed, in his history of America; but it seems to have been labored with peculiar care, till every vestige of labor has disappeared, and the story flows on with the ease and gracefulness of a romance. Yet ancient Mexico, and the adventures of her Spanish conquerors, may still afford full scope for the labor and the genius of an historian, who may aspire to tell the story in a more Christian and enlightened spirit than the bigot De Solis; on a more extended scale, and with a full command of the stores of knowledge which have accumulated since the time both of iDe Sohis~and of Robertson. If, indeed, we are to judge from the astonishment expressed by some persons, who at least might be supposed familiar with such works as Robertsons, at the discoveries of Mr. Stephens among the ancient cities in Mexico and the adjacent provinces, it might appear full time to revive the history of the conquest in the public mind. This surprise seemed to imply an utter forgetfulness of the state of the country at the time of the Spanish conquest; that it was not a wild forest wandered over by savage hunters, or a land peopled by simple and naked Caribs; but, the seat of more than one com- paratively ancient, powerful and wealthy monarchy, containing many large and populous cities, embel- lished with vast buildings, chiefly temples; and advanced to a high state of what we may venture to call, without pledging ourselves to its origin, Asiatic civilization. Mr. Prescott possesses high qualifications, and 11 PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. some peculiar advantages for the execution of such a work. He has a high sense of the obligation of an historian to explore every source of information relating to his subject; to spare neither industry, nor, we may add, expense, in the collection of materials; and his extensive acquaintance with Spanish literature, and the name which he has already established in connexion with Spanish his- tory, have, perhaps, enabled him to command sources of knowledge unattainable by an unknown author. In his disquisitions on the political state and the civilization of the Aztec kingdoms, he is full and copious, without being prolix and weari- some; his narrative is flowing and spirited, some- times very picturesque; his style has dropped the few Americanisms which still jarred on our fastidi- ous ear in his former work, and is in general pure and sound English. Above all, his judgments are unaffectedly candid and impartial; he never loses sight of the immutable principles of justice and humanity, yet allows to the Spanish conquerors the palliation for their enormities, to be drawn from those deeply-rooted and miscalled Christian principles, which authorized and even sanctified all acts of ambition and violence committed by Euro- peans and Christians against barbarians and infi- dels. His general estimate of the character of his hero appears to us singularly just. As an adven- turer the bravest, the most enterprising, the must persevering, who set his foot on the shores of America; Cortes was, as a commander, rapid and daring in forming his resolutions; undaunted and resolute in their execution; beyond example prompt and fertile in resources; unappalled by the most gigantic difficulties; unshaken by the most disastrous reverses; accomplishing the most inconceivable schemes with forces apparently the most inadequate, and, as he advanced, creating means from what might seem the most hopeless and hostile sources; and with a power of attach- ing men to his service, which might almost look like magic. He combined under one discipline the rude and reckless adventurer, who began by think- ing only of gold, but gradually kindled to the absorbing desire of glory; the jealous enemy who came to overthrow his power, and before long became it.s most steadfast support; the fiercest and most warlike of the natives, whom he bent not merely into obedient followers, but zealous and hearty allies. Avaricious, yet generous, and never allowing his avarice to interfere with his ambition; with address which borders close on cunning, reading mens hearts and minds, and knowing whom to trust and how far; he was not without humanity, but when war was raging and as pecu- liar exigences seemed to demand, utterly remorse- less and utterly reckless of the extent of carnage, hewing down human life as carelessly as the back- woodsman the forest; and withal as stern a bigot as Spain ever sent forth in cowl or in mail, to propagate the doctrine of the Cross by the Ma- hometan apostleship of fire and sword. Mr. Prescott, in his collection of materials for his work, has laid all accessible quarters under contribution. The Spanish archives, which were closed against Dr. Robertson, have been freely opened to him; or rather, we should say, he has had liberal access to the rich collections made by Don Juan Baptista Muiioz, the hi~toriographer of the Indies; to that of Don Vargas Ponce, whose papers were chiefly obtained from the archives of tlie Indies at Seville; and that of Navarrete, the President of the Academy, whose work on the early discoveries of the Spaniards is well known. These three collections are in the possession of the Royal Academy of Madrid; Mr. Prescott was allowed the selection and transcription of as many as he might choose; and the result has been a mass of MS. documents amounting to eight thou- sand folio pages. Mexico has furnished some unprinted and some printed documents, among the latter those edited by Bustamente, especially the valuable history of Father Sahagun, which ap- peared nearly at the same time in Mexico, and ia Lord Kingsboroughs great collection of Mexican antiquities. Mr. Prescott mentions other private libraries and collections, among them that of the Duke of Monteleone, the present representative of Cortes, which have been courteously placed at his command. Among printed works that of Clavigero had not appeared when Robertson published his history. Clavigero, indeed, professed that the object of his writing was partly to correct the errors of Robert- son. Since that time, England and France have sent forth the magnificent volumes of Lord Kings- borough and the French Antiquit~s Mexicaines, and many of the Muiioz MSS. which have ap- peared in the translations of M. Ternaux Compans. We have memitioned the history of Father Saha- gun. The Historia Antiqua of Don Mariano Veytia, the executor of Boturini, a most adventur- ous hut injudicious collector of Aztec antiquities, was published in Mexico in 1838. To these printed works Mr. Prescott adds, as his authorities: I. The MS. History of India, by the celebrated Las Casas, the Bishop of Chiapa, a name which com- mands our highest veneration, yet who wanted some of the first requisites of an historian, impar- tiality and judgment. The good bishop has all the amiability, all the ardor, and all the prejudice of an Abolitionist. II. The works of the Tezcucaa historian, who rejoices in the magnificent name of Fernando de Alva lxtlilxochitl, according to Mr. Prescott, the Livy of Anahuac. These are still in manuscript, but have been consulted by some of the Spanish historians. The Historia Clmichemeca, the best of his Relaciones, has been rendered into French in Mons. Ternaux Companss collec- tion. III. The Historia General de las Indias, by Gonzalo Fernandez de Oviedo 6 Yaldez. Oviedo passed some time in the Spanish Indies, in Darien, and afterwards in Hispaniola. On his return to Spain he was appointed Chronicler of the Indies. 12 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. It is understood that the Royal Academy of His- tory at Madrid are preparing this work for the press. IV. The History of Tiascala, by Diego MuiThz Camargo. Camargo was a noble Tiascan tnestee, and lived in the latter half of the sixteenth Century. His work supplies much curious and authentic information respecting the social and religious institutions of tbe land at the time of the conquest. His patriotism warms as he recounts the old hostilities of his countrymen with the Aztecs; and it is singular to observe how the detestation of the rival nations survived their com- mon subjection under the Castilian yoke. Yet it~ is chiefly on the institutions, manners, and polity of the kingdoms of the New World, that these masses of published and unpublished documents throw light. The great facts of the invasion and conquest; the life and character of Cortes himself; the triumphs and disasters, the gains and losses, have long been before the world. The principles and motives of these warriors, who were at once too rude and too proud to dissemble or disguise their designs and objects, are manifest from their actions. There is no secret history which is not immediately betrayed by the event. Success or failure reveals the subtlest policy of Cortes. The large works of Herrera and Torque- mada contain, in general, a full and accurate ac- Count of the actual exploits, dangers, escapes, and victories of the adventurers. The despatches of Cortes, which have been long before the world, show us the course of events as they appeared to the leader himself, and as he wished them to appear before his master and before Europe.* They are bold and honest Commentaries, for neither would Cortes condescend to, nor feel the slightest desire of concealment; nor would be have found a more favorable hearing with the Emperor or the court of Castile, if he had softened or disguised any of those parts of the history which most offend the moral and Christian feelings of our day. Besides this, we have the frank and gallant, however rugged, Bernal Diaz, chronicling, from recollection it is true, but still with the fidelity of honest pride and the complacent satisfaction of an old soldier, day by day, the occurrences of the whole war; speaking out, without fear or hesitation, the living feelings, the hopes, and even the fears, the passions, the superstitions of the camp. Ber- nal Diaz avowedly wrote to vindicate for the sol- diers of Cortes that share in the common glory, which Gomara., the other great authority for the war, has ascribed too exclusively to the general. Gomara was the chaplain of Cortes on his return to Spain, and derived his information from Cortes himself, (though the book was not ~vritten till after his death,) from his family, and from some of the other distinguished actors in the great drama. Yet after all, the character of Cortes comes out still more strongly in the Chronicle of Diaz. Though Diaz is asserting the independence and voluntary subjection of the soldiers, they are only more manifestly under the despotic rule of the master mind; for that is the most consummate authority which persuades its obedient jhstrumcnts to imag- ine that they are free agents. 1-Jonest Bernal IDiaz seems to have made himself believe that he had a leading voice in the destruction of the ships. It is on this introductory portion of Mexican history, and on the character, institutions, manners, and usages, of the conquered empire, that Robertsons brilliant episode is meagre and unsatisfactory. His calm and philosophic mind was not much alive to the romantic and picturesque; and lie was so afraid of being led away by the ardent imagination of some of the older authorities, who had been dazzled by the external splendor of the Mexican monarchy, that lie was disposed to depreciate to the utmost its real state of advancement. Mr. Prescott has availed himself of his superior advan- tages, and done more ample and equal justice to the subject. His preliminary view of the Aztec civilization is a full and judicious summary of that which is scattered in numerous, large, and we may add, expensive volumes, those of the printed and unpublished works of the older writers, and the modern publications of Clavigero, of the invaluable Humboldt, and the English and French Mexican Antiquities. On the great and inexplicable problem as to the origin of this singular state of civilization, Mr. Prescott has wisely declined to enter in the open- ing chapters of his history: he has reserved the subject for a separate disquisition, in his Appen- dix. His conclusions are those of a sensible man, and a lover of truth rather than of brilliant theory. Among the great tests and trials of an historians honesty, and therefore of his due sense of the dig- nity of his office, is the acknowledgment of igno- rance; the steady refusal to admit that as history, which has not sufficient historical evidence. Mr. Prescott sums up the whole discussion thus First, the coincidences are sufficiently strong to authorize a belief that the ~ivilizatioim of Anahuac was, in some degree, influenced by that of Eastern Asia. And, secondly, the discrepancies are such as to carry back the communication to a very remote period; so remote, that this foreign influ- ence had been too feeble to interfewe materially with the growth of what may be regarded, in its essential features as a peculiar and indigenous civilization. Unquestionably, the general character of the great Mexican empire has an Asiatic appearance; it resembles the great Tartar or Mongol empires, as they offered themselves to the astonished imagi * A very respectable and useful Translation of these nations of the early Christian missionaries, or the Despatches by Mr. George Folsom, has been publisb~d merchant Marco Polo. Montezuma was most like at New York (i843.) We have availed ourselves of this Kubla Khan, or that splendid but evanescent per- translation in our extracts. sonage, always heard of but never~ foui~d, the mag PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. nificent Prester John. The analogies with Jewish and Christian customs and notions, so fondly sought and so readily believed by religious zeal, (the in- spiration which fortunately gave birth to the costly publication of the late Lord Kingsborongh, was a fancy about the Jewish origin of the Mexicans,) resolve themselves almost entirely into common or wide-spread Oriental customs and opinions. But when we would derive, according to the most probable theory, the American civilization from Eastern Asia, there remains this insuperable diffi- culty. To transplant the civilization of one distant country to another, requires either the simultane- ous migration of a large body of the people, or a long and regular intercourse, a constant immigra- tion from the parent race. A few adventurers from the most civilized region of the worldacci- dentally thrown upon a remote shore, or wander- ing to it through immeasurable tracts of forest, and savanna, and swamp, cut off from all communi- cation with the mother country, and struggling to bring a new land into cultivationwould almost inevitably degenerate, or acquire new habits and usages adapted to their new circumstances. Whether this Tartar, Mongol, or Chinese, or, at any rate, Oriental race, found its way across the Pacific, or slowly descended south~vard, leaving vestiges of its passage in some of the curious monuments in North America; its preservation of so much of its peculiar character in all the vicissi- tudes of its fortunes seems scarcely conceivable. And language, which in general, at least in its elemental forms and simplest sounds, is the fine but enduring thread which leads us back to the parent stock, is here utterly broken and lost. If originally Asiatic, or connected with any of the dialects of Eastern Asia, it has diverged away so completely as not to retain a vestige of its origin. In its words, and in its structure, tbough split up into innumerable dialectsnay, as it should seem, innumerable independent familiesthe language of New Spain has baffled all the attempts of the most profound and ingenious philologists (and they are not easily baffled) to connect it with any of the tongues of the Old World. Yet either a great length of time, or a total change of socialcondi- tion, appears absolutely necessary to obliterate every vestige of affiliation from cognate languages; and it is remarkable, that variable usages should survive that which is usually so much less muta- ble, the elements and the structure of speech. Nor is it unimportant to remark how comparatively recent appears the whole civilization of Anahuac. Even if, as is not improbable, the race who peo- pled Mexico and Tezeuco were ruder and fiercer tribes, who descended upon an older civilization, and yielded to its subduing influence, (like the shepherds in Egypt or the Tartars in China,) yet that which we are able, on the authority of the earliest traditions, to throw up into the highest antiquity, comes far within the historic times of the 01(1 World. This recent origin effectually cuts p3 off all possible connexion with the West; even Platos Atlantis, and the Ph~nician voyagers, are tales in comparison of hoary eld; and it renders any permanent intercourse with the East, at least with greater empires, highly improbable. Clavi- gero indeed, who would by no means incline to take a low view of Aztec ant4uities, fixes the descent of the Toltecsthe earlest race to whom the vague tradition, which by courtesy is called history, assigns any important influence on the civilization of this part of she New Worldin the year 648 of our ura ;the foundation of Mexico, probably far better ascertained, in the year 1325. Are we not, then, thrown back upon the pre- vious question, whether man at earlier social stages has not a tendency to develop his social being in the same manner? May we not be required by true philosophic investigation, as far as it can lead us, to inquire how far similitude of polity, usage, law, manners, really proves identity of origin, or even remote affiliation ; how far cer- tain customs grow, not out of tradition hut out of our common nature; how far, in the almost infinite varieties of human culture, there is not, up to a cer- tain point, a necessary uniformity, which ensures a general resemblance, or, at least, by limiting the range of accident, caprice, climate, habit, enforces the adoption of kindred institutions where there is no kindred blood, and no mutual intercourse l So many curious coincidences occur, where it is impossible to imagine either common descent (except from our first parents, or from the ark) or communication; such wayward and fanciful usages, such strange deviations from the ordinary principles and feelings of man, grow up in such distant regions, and such disconnected tribes, that we become extremely cautious in receiving such evidence as showing even the most remote rela- tionship of race. Is might scorn that human nature has only a limited number of forms in which it can cast its social institutions, and that, however variously it may combine these forms, it is almost impossible but that points of the closest similitude should exist, where there can have been neither imitation nor common tradition. Yet, whiJe the institutions of the Aztec civiliza- tion may have been but the development of the common principles of justice, the necessity of mutual protection and security may have led to the establishment of the monarchical government, dis- tinction of ranks, regular tribunals of law, fixed rules for the tenure of property; the ordinary usages of life, the invention and application of the useful, and indeed necessary arts, may have been the spon- taneous, as it were, and but recent evolutions of the common wants afid faculties of man: there are some few very remarkable traditions, which can scarcely be traced but to some original connexion with the brotherhoed, apparently, of the Asiatic nations. Some of these are religious, the most remarkable of which is that universal one of the Deluge, the authenticity of which seems recog 14 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. nized by Humboldt, and admitted by ~Lr. Prescott. Most of the others, espeeially those which show too close a resemblance to Christianity, fall under the suspicion of having been invented, or, at least, of being native traditions, colored into similitude by the zeal of the new converts, anxious to pro- pitiate the favor of their teachers, and fondly wel- comed without examination, or aftcr an examina- tion strongly biased by the prof3nnd but natural prejudices of the unenlightened monkish teachers. One or two of the scientific analogies are still more singular, particularly with regard to the Aztee calendar. The system of intercalation may indeed have forced itself upon different peoples, when they had arrived at the knowledge of the time of the suns annual course; and nature itself might seem to establish, especially in the period of superstition through which all nations seem doomed to pass, that period of mourning which followed the suns deelension, and of rejoicing after the winter solstice, when the lengthening days gave the hope of another revolving year, with all its fruits and blessings. But, in the words of Mr. Prescott, after he has noticed the remarkable analogy of the Mexican cycles of years with those of the Mongol nations, A correspondence quite as extraordinary is found between the hieroglyphics used by the Aztecs for the signs of the days, and those zodia- cal signs which the Eastern Asiaties employed as one of the terms of their series. The symbols in the Mongolian calendar are borrowed from animals. Four of the twelve are the same as the Aztec. Three others are as nearly the same as the differ- ent species of the animals in the two hemispheres would allow. The remaining five refer to no creature then found in Anahuac. The note gives the names of the zodiacal signs used as the names of the years by the Eastern Asiatics (of the signs of the zodiac the Mexicans probably had no knowledge) Among the Mongols, 1. mouse, 2. ox, 3. leopard (Mantchou, Japanese, & c., tiger,) 4. hare, 5. crocodile (Mantchou and Japanese, dragon,) 6. serpent, 7. hare, 8. sheep (Mantchou, & c., goat,) 9. monkey, 10. hen, 11. dog, 12. hog. In the Mexican signs for the names of the days, we also meet with hare, serpent, monkey, dog. Instead of the leopard, crocodile, and hen, neither of which animals were known in Mexico at the time of the conquest, we find the ocelot, the lizard, and the eagle. The lunar calendar of the Hindoos ex- hibits a correspondence equally extraordinary. Seven of the terms agree with those of the Aztecs, namely, serpent, cane, razor, path of the sun, dogs tail, house. [Mr. Prescott gives but six.] These terms are still more arbitrarily selected, not being confined to animals.Vol. iii., p. 345. We cannot but suspect that all these signs arose out of hieroglyphic or picture writing, but this by no means explains the curious resemblance. There is another point of considerable importance, which tends to show that the more civilized tribes of Southern America were of a different family of mankind from the common savage races of the islands and continent. The crania disinterred from the sepulchral mounds in those regions, as well as those of the inhabitants of the high plains of the Cordilleras, differ from those of the more barbarous tribes. The ampler forehead intimates a decided intellectual superiority, and bears a close resem- blance with that of some o~ the Mongol tribes. We are inclined to think the~ habit of burning the dead, familiar to the Mongols and the Aztecs, no very strong evidence of common descent. The departure from the strange habit of burying the dead in a sitting posture, practised, according to Mr. Prescott, by most, if not all, the aborigines from Canada to Patagonia, is a more convincing proof of the independent origin of these more savage races. The latter argument tends, as far as it goes, to establish an identity of race with the Eastern Asiatics; the other singular coincidences of the calendar and the names of the days might possibly be ascribed to the casual visit of a few strangers from the Asiatic coasts, who may have imparted their superior knowledge and their reli- o~ous traditions. There was, however, no such distinct tradition among the Aztecs, as among the Peruvians, of a Mango Capac, who, suddenly ap- pearing among a barbarous race, from his superior intelligence and knowledge, was hailed with awe and reverence as a deity, as a child of the sun, and to whom is ascribed the whole framework of the social polity, and all which may be called civilization. The Mexican traditions relate to the migration of tribes rather than to the power or influence of individual chiefs or sages, unless per- haps that beneficent God, supposed to have re- appeared in the person of the Spaniards. We have glanced thus rapidly at some of the more prominent points in this curious, but, we must confess, unsatisfactory discussion, because this appears to be the strongest case in history of a spontaneous and indigenous civilization growing up without foreign influence, and within a recent period. Whatever traditions the natives of Ana- huac might inherit from their Asiatic origin, if Asia was indeed the cradle of the race, have sur- vived, what seems incredible, the total extinction of every sign of relationship in the language. The only faint traces of etymological resemblance have been found or imagined in the Otomic, the language of one of the most barbarous tribes, which is supposed to offer the nearest analogy, and that with the Chinese. Besides this, it is acknowledged that far the larger part, and that which gives its general Asiatic character to the Mexican civilization, is to all appearance but of late development. Even their legendary or mythic history is modest in its pretensions; neither Mexico nor Tezeuco claim any high or mysterious an- tiquity. The account of the foundation of both cities, as we have seen, is probable and recent. Let us take a very hasty survey of this introductory chapter of Mexican history. The Toltecs are the Pelasgians of this civili 15 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. zation of Anahuac. They were an agricultural race, skilled in some of the mechanical arts, and to them are ascribed the buildings of the greatest solidity and magnificence, the monuments of Trans- atlantic Cyclopean architectureyet neither they nor their buildings aspire to any formidable age. Even if we ascribe the ruins of Palenque and Uxmal, and some of the structures in the adjacent provinces, described by Mr. Stephens, to this race and to their descendants, there is no considerable difference, either in the style, the form, or the con- struction, or what we may conjecture to have been their uses, from the buildings found by the Span- iards in the Mexican cities, from the temples and fortresses of the existing people; there is nothing to throw the one upward into a more remote an- tiquity; nothing like the wide distinction between the architectures of Egypt and Greece, or even between the Pelasgian or Cyclopean masonry and that of the Hellenic tribes. A period of a very few centuries will connect the two races, even if we admit to the utmost the only evidence of a cer- tain degree of antiquity in the older ruins, the growth of trees of enormous size within their pre- cincts, which must have taken root after the build- ings had been abandoned either as habitations or places of worship. In all these cases we must know more accurately the ordinary growth of such trees, since some kinds of timber, in that climate and in that soil, are known to increase with extra- ordinary rapidity. Mexican history, however, as we have seen, did not scruple to assign, if a vague and uncertain, yet certainly no very remote period for the disappear- ance of the Toltec population, and the settlement and growth of the Aztec races, who were in pos- session of the country at the time of the Spanish invasion. The league between the great leading tribes of Mexico, of Tezeuco, and the smaller state of Tlacopan, in which these three kingdoms had combined, is a singular example of a national con- federation. The league was both defensive and offensive; and the spoils and conquests torn by the combined forces from their more barbarous neighbors were divided upon a fixed scale. Yet with this dangerous element of jealousy and dis- cord, the league had continued for a considerable period in perfect harmony. Mexico, when the Spaniards lauded, was the leading state in wealth and in power. But Tez- cuco had attained to a much higher, and, if we are to credit the native historians, a much more en- lightened state of civilization. The most curious and interesting passage in Mr. Prescotts history of the earlier state of Anahuae describes the rise and the reign of the great king of Tezcuco~, with whose awful name we shall not appal our readers eyes or ears till it is absolutely necessary. Whe- ther read as sober history, or as mythic legend, or as a kind of Aztec Cyropedia, it is equally extra- ordinary, resting as it does on the authority of a native Livy, who, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, combined into a regular history or histories the hieroglyphics, the songs, and traditions of his native land, as well as the oral testimony of many aged persons. Ixtlilxochitl, whose name we have before noticed, a descendant of the royal race, became interpreter to the viceroy; his high situ- ation gave him command of all ~e ancient docu- ments in the possession of the ~Spanish govern- ment, to which he added large collections of his own. He wrote in Castilian, and Mr. Prescott observes that there is an appearance of good faith and simplicity in his writings, which may convince the reader that, when he errs, it is from no worse cause than national partiality. But it would seem almost incredible that, even under the inspiration of the most ardent reverence for his an- cestors, the ideal of a Mexican educated under Spanish influence, and living among either states- men or friars of that period, should take this remarkable form. Our Aztec Livy must indeed have possessed a noble genius, if he could imagine some of the social and political institutions which he ascribes to the Numa of Tezcuco.* The rising fortunes and the civilization of the Acolhuans, who entered the Valley and founded Tezcuco about the close of the twelfth century, were checked and interrupted by the subjugation of the city and territory under the Tepanecs, a kindred but more barbarous tribe This event took place about 1418; and the young prince, Nezahualcoyotl, the heir to the crown, then fifteen years old, saw his father butch- ered before his eyes, while he himself lay conceal~d among the friendly branches of a tree, which over- shadowed the spot. His subsequent history is as full of romantic daring and perilous escapes as that of the renowned Scanderbeg, or of the young Chevalier. Vol. i.,p. 146. These adventures, of which Mr. Prescott gives a brief but stirring account, terminated with the defeat of the Tecapecs, the death of Maxtla, the last king of their race, the accession of Nezahual- coyotl to his ancestral throne, and the establish- merit of the federal league between Mexico, Tez- cuco, and Tlacopan The first measure of Nezahualcoyotl, on re- turning to his dominions, was a general amnesty. It was his maxim, that a monarch might punish, but revenge was unworthy of him. In the present instance he was averse even to punish, and not only freely pardoned his rebel nobles, but conferred on some, who had most deeply offended, posts of honor and confidence. Such conduct was doubt- less politic, especially as their alienation was owing, probably, much more to fear of the usurper than to any disaffection towards himself. But there are some acts of policy which a magnanimous spirit only can execute. * We would observe that the reign of this lawgiver of Tezeuco had been before given at some length, not to say prolixity, by Torquemada, in his Monarchia Indiana; and the resemblance of the incident in his life, which wilt hereafter be noticed, to the narrative of Scripture, could not escape the ecclesiastical writer. PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. The restored monarch next set about repairing the damages sustained under the late misrule, and reviving, or rather remodelling, the various de- partments of government. He framed a concise, but comprehensive, code of laws, so ~vell suited, it was thought, to the exigencies of the times, that it was adopted as their own by the two other mem- bers of the triple alliance. It was written in blood, and entitled the author to be called the Draco, rather than the Solon of Anahuac, as he is fondly styled by his admirers. Humanity is one of the best fruits of refinement. It is only with increas- ing civilization that the legislator studies to econo- mize human suffering, even for the guilty; to devise penalties, not so much by way of punish- ment for the past as of reformation for the future. He divided the burden of government among a nuniber of departments, as the council of war, the council of finance, the council of justice. This last was a court of supreme authority, both in civil and criminal matters, receiving appeals from the lower tribunals of the provinces, which were obliged to make a full report, every four months, or eighty days, of their own proceedings to this higher judicature. In all these bodies a certain number of citizens were allowed to have seats with the nobles and professional dignitaries. There was, however, another body, a council of state, for aiding the king in the despatch of business, and advising him in matters of importance, which was drawn altogether from the highest order of chiefs. It consisted of fourteen members; and they had seats provided for them at the royal table. Lastly, there was an extraordinary tribunal, called the council of music, but which, differing from the import of its name, was devoted to the encouragement of science and art. Works on astronomy, chronology, history, or any other sci- ence, were required to be submitted to its judg- ment before they could be made public. This censorial power was of some moment, at least with regard to the historical department, where the wilful perversion of truth was made a capital offence by the bloody code of Nezahualcoyotl. Yet a Tezeucan author must have been a bungler who could not elude a conviction under the cloudy veil of hieroglyphics. This body, which was drawn from the best instructed persons in the kingdom, with little regard to rank, had supervi- sion of all the productions of art and of the nicer fabrics. It decided on the qualifications of the professors in the various branches of science, on the fidelity of their instructions to their pupils, the deficiency of which was severely punished, and it instituted examinations of these latter. In short, it was a general board of education for the coun- try. On stated days, historical compositions, and poems treating of moral or traditional topics, were recited before it by their authors. Seats were provided for the three crowned heads of the em- pire, who deliberated with the other members on the respective merits of the pieces, and distributed prizes of value to the successful competitors. Such are the marvellous accounts transmitted to us of this institution ; an institution certainly not to have been expected among the aborigines of America. It is calculated to give us a higher idea Qf the refinement of the people than even the noble architeetural remains which still cover some parts of the continent.Yol. i., pp. 152155. The monarch himself, like some other great potentates of the East and West, aspired to be a poet. The burthen of his song seems to have been that vanity of vanities, of King Solomon, which is echoed along the course of Eastern, at least of Mahometan poetry, with more or less touching melancholy, and more or less grave epicurean ad- vice to enjoy, while we may, the pleasures of this fleeting and uncertain lifer The king of Tez- cuco may take his place am6ng royal and noble authors, not merely from traditionary fame, but from a translation of one of his Odes into Cas- tilian. Mr. Prescott has subjoined a translation of the Castilian into English, by the hand of a fair friend. But the hours of the Tezcucaii monarch were not all passed in idle dalliance with the muse, nor in the sober contemplations of philosophy, as at a later period. In the freshness of youth and early manhood he led the allied armies in their annual expeditions, which were certain to result in a wider extent of territory to the empire. In the intervals of peace he fostered those productive arts which are the surest sources of public pros- perity. He encouraged agriculture above all and there was scarcely a spot so rude, or a steep so inaccessible, as not to confess the power of cul- tivation. The land was covered with a busy pop- ulation, and towns and cities sprung up iii places since deserted, or dwindled into miserable villages. From resources thus enlarged by conquest and domestic industry, the monarch drew the means for the large consumption of his own numerous house- hold, and for the costly works which he executed for the convenience and embellishment of the cap- ital. He filled it with stately edifices for his nobles, whose constant attendance he was anxious to secure at his court. He erected a magnificent pile of buildings which might serve both for a royal residence and for the public offices. It ex- temided, from east to west, 1234 yards; and from north to south, 978. It was encompassed by a wall of unburnt bricks and cement, six feet wide and nine high, for one half of the circumference, arid fifteen feet high for the other half. Within this enclosure were two courts. The outer one was used as the great market-place of the city; and continued to be so until long after the Con- quest, if, indeed, it is not now. The interior court was surrounded by the council chambers and halls of justice. There were also accommo- dations there for the foreign ambassadors; and a spacious saloon, with apartments opening into it, for men of science and poets, who pursued their studies in this retreat, or met together to hold con- verse under its marble porticoes. In this quarter also were kept the public archives, which fared better under the Indian dynasty than they have since under their European successors. Adjoining this court were the apartments of the king, including those for the royal harem, as liberally supplied with beauties as that of an east- ern sultan. Their walls were encrusted with ala- basters and richly tinted stucco, or hung with gorgeous tapestries of variegated feather-work. They led through long arcades, and through intri- cate labyrinths of shrubbery, into gardens, where baths aiid sparkling fountains were overshadowed by tall groves of cedar and cypress. The basins of water were well stocked with fish of various kinds, and the aviaries with birds glowing in all the gaudy plumage of the tropics. Many birds and animals, which could not be obtained alive, 16 PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 17 were represented in gold and silver so skilfully, as to have furnished the great naturalist, Hernandez, with models for his work. Accommodations on a princely scale were pro- vided for the sovereigns of Mexico and Tiacopan, when they visited the court. The whole of this lordly lile contained three hundred apartments, some of them fifty yards square. The heioffit of the building is not mentioned; it was probably not great, but supplied the requisite room by the im- mense extent of ground which it covered. The interior was doubtless constructed of light mate- rials, especially of the rich woods, which, in that country, are remarkable, when polished, for the brilliancy and variety of their colors. That the more solid materials of stone and stucco were also liberally employed, is proved by the remains at the present day; remains which have furnished an inexhaustible quarry for the churches and other edifices since erected by the Spaniards on the site of the ancient city. We are not informed of the time occupied in building this palace; but two hundred thousand workmen, it is said, were employed on it! How- ever this may be, it is certain that the Tezcucan monarchs, like those of Asia and ancient Egypt, had the control of immense masses of men, and would sometimes turn the whole population of a conquered city, including the women, into the public worksThe most gigantic monuments of architecture which the world has witnessed would never have been reared by the hands of freemen. Adjoining the palace were buildings for the kings children, who, by his various wives, amount- ed to no less than sixty sons and fifty daughters. Here they were instructed in all the exercises and accomplishments suited to their station; compre- hendin~,, what would scarcely find a place in a royal education on the other side of the Atlantic the arts of working in metals, jewelry, and feather- mosaic. Once in every four months the whole household, not excepting the youngest, and includ- ing all the officers and attendants on the kings person, assembled in a Fraud saloon of the palace, to listen to a discourse from an orator, probably one of the priesthood. The princes, on this occa- sion, were all dressed in nequem, the coarsest manufacture of the country. The preacher began by enlarging on the obligations of morality, and of respect for the gods, especially important in persons whose rank gave such additional weight to example. He occasionally seasoned his homily with a pertinent application to his audience, if any member of it had been guilty of a notorious delin- quency. From this wholesome admonition the monarch himself was not exempted, and the orator boldly reminded him of his paramount duty to show respect for his own laxvs. The king, so far from taking umbrage, received the lesson with humility; and the audience, we are assured, were often melted into tears by the eloquence of the preacher. This curious scene may remind one of similar usages in the Asiatic and Egyptian despot- isms, where the sovereign occasion ally condescen- ded to stoop from his pride of place, and allow his memory to be refreshed with the conviction of his own mortality. It soothed tIme feelings of the subject to find himself thus placed, thonoffi but for a moment, on a level with his king; while it cost little to the latter, who was removed too far from his people to suffer anything by this short-lived familiarity. It is probable that such an act of public humiliation would have found less favor I. LIVING AGE. 2 with a prince less absolute. Vol. i., pp. 158, 164. The villas of this Western Sultan were no less splendid, tasteful, and luxurious, and the history of his domestic life is, for another reason, even more surprising. The harem of tl~ese sovereigns, as we have seen, was no less amply peopled than those of the most gorgeous Oriental potentates. But the law of Tezcuco allowed only one lawful wife, to whose children the crown descended by immemorial usage. The king had been disap- pointed in an early attachmentthe princess who had heen educated for his wife had been given to another; and the just prince submitted to the decree of the court, which awarded her to his rival. His lawful wife, however, he obtained in a manner so strangely resembling the Old Testa- ment history of David and Uriah, that we should not be satisfied by less than the solemn protest of the historian, that it was related on the authority of the son and grandson of the king. This act is recorded as the great indelible stain upon his character; and national partiality and ancestral reverence would here have struggled against any unconscious bias towards assimilating the life of his great forefather to that example in the Sacred History which he might have heard from his Christian instructors. But Nezahualcoyotl was likewise the Haroun Alraschid and the Akber of the West. He not only resembled the former in his magnificence, hut in his love of disguise, in which he went about discovering the feelings of his subjects in regard to his government, and meeting with adventures which in like manner tried his barbaric justice. Some of the stories are as pithy and diverting as the Arabian Nights, which we are obliged to remember were not known in Europe till very long after the Tezeucan historian had been gath- ered to his forefathers. The resemblance to the great Mahometan sovereign of India is the supe- riority of the Acolbuan to the religious creed of his ancestors. There is something, to those familiar with the old Oriental legends of the Tal- mud or the Koran, singularly and unaccouotably similar lie had been married some years to the wife he had so unrighteously obtained, but was not blessed with issue. The priests represented that it was owing to his neglect of the gods of his country; and that his only remedy was to propi- tiate them by human sacrifice. The king reluc- tantly consented, and the altars once more smoked with the blood of slaughtered captives. But it was all in vain; and he indignantly exclaimed, Those idols of woo~1 and stone can neither hear nor feel, much loss could they make the heavens and the earth, and man, the lord of it. These must be the work of the all-powerful, unknown God, Creator of the universe, on hom alone I must rely for consolation and support. lie then withdrew to his rural palace of Te~ cotzinco, where he remained forty days, fasting and praying at stated hours, and offering up no 18 PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. other sacrifice than the sweet incense of copal. and aromatic herbs and gums. At the expiration of this time, he is said to have been comforted by a vision assuring him of the success of his petition. At all events, such proved to be the fact; and this was followed by the cheering intelligence of the triumph of his arms in a quarter where he had lately experienced some humiliating reverses. Greatly strengthened in his former religious convictions, he now openly professed his faith, and was more earnest to wean his subjects from their degrading superstitions, and to substitute nobler and more spiritual conceptions of the Deity. He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the nine heavens; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black, and profusely 0ilded with stars on the outside, and incrusted with metals and pre- Cious stones within. He dedicated this to the unknown God, the Ganse of causes. It seems probable, from the emblem on the tower, as well as from the complexion of his verses, as we shall see, that he mingled with his reverence for the Supreme the astral worship which existed among the Toltecs. Various musical instruments were placed on the top of the tower; and the sound of them, accompanied by the ringing of a sonorous metal struck by a mallet, summoned the worship- pers to prayers at regular seasons. No imar~e was allowed in the edifice, as unsuited to the invisible God; and the people were expressly prohibited from profaning the altars xvith blood, or any other sacrifices than that of the perfume of flowers and sweet-scented gums.Vol. i., pp. 173, 175. If we are to trust the verses which the king composed in the midst of the astronomical studies of his old agewith this higher view of religion nobler and more consolatory thoughts of the future state of being had dimly dawned upon his mind All things on earth have their term, and, in the most joyous career of their vanity and splen- dor, their strength fails, and they sink into the dust. All the round world is but a sepulchre; and there is nothing which lives on its surface that shall not be hidden and entombed beneath it. Rivers, torrents, and streams move onward to their destination. Not one flows back to its pleasant source. They rush onward, hastening to bury themselves in the deep bosom of the ocean. The things of yesterday are no more to-day; and the things of to-day shall cease, perhaps on the mor- row. The cemetery is full of the loathsome dust of bodies once quickened by living souls, who occupied thrones, presided over assemblies, mar- shalled armies, subdued provinces, arrogated to themselves worship, were puffed up with vainglo- rious pomp, and power, and empire. But these glories have all passed away like the fearful smoke that issues from the throat of Popocatepetl, with no other memorial of their existence than the record on the page of the chronicler. The great, the wise, the valiant, the beauti- ful,alas! where are they now l They are all mingled with the clod, and that which has befallen them shall happen to us, and to those that come after us. Yet let us take courage, illustrious nobles and chieftains, true friends and loyal sub- jects,let us aspire to that heaven rohere all is eter- nal, and corruption cannot come. The horrors of the tomb are but the cradle of the Sun, and the dark shadows of death are brilliant lights for the stars. The mystic import of the last sentence seems to point to that superstition respecting the man- sions of the Sun, which forms so beautiful a contrast to the dark features of the Aztec mythol- ogy. Vol. i., pp. 175177. XVe must leave the death of t.he great Tezcucan monarch, and the reign of his son, in Mr. Prescotts pages. Mexico was to Tezcuco as the sterner and more warlike Rome to the more polite and cultivated Greece. Like Venice, founded by a few wanderers and fugitives on the swampy islands of the great lake, it became a powerful citythe centre of a great nation. The city rose, with rapid progress, to strength and splendor; it connected itself with the land by its strong and solid causeways, bridged over at intervals; and its situation would have been impregnable to less than Spanish valor, European arms, and European vessels. Mexico was an elective monarchy; the choice of the sovereign rested with four of the caciques, who were bound to select one of the brothers, or, in default of brothers, one of the nephews of the late king. The king was a des- pot; in him was vested the whole legislative and executive power in war and peace; yet there was a powerful nobility of caciques, who held their estates by different tenures, but all might be sum- monedperhaps required no summonsto attend the sovereign, with their people, when he went out to war. Their judicial system might excite the astonishment of the Spaniards of that age; it sometimes draws forth a sly expression of envy from their older writers, on whose authority, as well as that of the hieroglyphic paintings, it is described. In each city and its depending terri- tory was a supreme judge, appointed by, and maintained at the expense of, the crown, but en- tirely independent, holding his office for life, and with no appeal, even to the king, from his tribunal. He took cognizance of all great causes, both civil and criminal. A capital sentence was marked in the hieroglyphical paintings by an arrow drawn across the figure of the criminal. Below the supreme judge there were inferior tribunals for minor causes, down to a kind of police-offices, each of which was to watch over a certain number of families, and report any breach of the laws to the tribunals. Bribery in a judge was punished with death. It was death to usurp the insignia of a judge. The laws were barbarously prodigal of human life. Murder, adultery, some kinds of theft, destruction of the landmarks of property, altering the public measures, unfaithful guardian- ship of the estatQ of a ward, even intemperance in young persons, were capital crimes. Barbarism and civilization mingled still more strangely in the law of slavery. Prisoners taken in battle were reserved as sacrifices to the gods; but no one could be born to slavery in Mexico. Criminals, public defaulters, (for the system of taxation was rigorous and well organized,) persons in extreme PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 19 poverty, either became slaves by law, or sold them- selves into slavery. Parents could thus deal with their children. The services, however, of such slaves were limited their lives and persons pro- tected they could not be sold, except in case of extreme poverty, by their masters ; their children were born free. The law and the usage seem to have been equally lenient. They were often emancipated, as in Rome, at the death of their master. The Aztecs of Mexico were a martial race their leading institutions and the national spirit, the splendor of dress, of ornament, and the pride and glory of Aztec, were centered in war ; their legions consisting of 8,000 men, not without dis- cipline. Montezuma had been a distingoished warrior and conqueror. The peculiarity in their mode of fighting was that they did not seek to kill, hut to make prisoners, and these prisoners were to he solemn votive offerings to the gods. They did not scalp their enemies, like the North American Indians, and esteem their prowess by the number of scalps they had won hot their valor was tested by the numbers which they furnished for the hor- rid human hecatombs on their teocallis, or temples. It was the unspeakable barbarity of this part of their religion which so strongly and darkly con- trasted with the justice and, in some respects, mild humanity of their civil institutions. All that we know of human sacrifices in the Old World, from Moloch, horrid king, and the kindred super- stitions of older Asia, the self-immolations under the car of Jaganaut, with the other bloody rites of Siva and of Durga in India, the wicker-cages in which our ancestors the Druids consumed their victims ; all these terrific scenes shrink into nothing before the amount of human beings regularly slaughtered on the altars of the Mexican gods, with the revoltino circumstances which accom- panied their sacrifice. These rites seem to have been pcculiar to the Aztec races, ~nd among the Mexicans rose to a more dreadful height, and were more inveterately rooted in their habits and feel- ings. Tradition ascribes to the older Toltecs that milder character which usually belongs to the agricultural races. They offered only purer and bloodless sacrifices to their deities. We have seen that the enlightened sovereign of Tezcuco strove to mitigate, though he could not abolish this national usage. There can be no doubt that human sacrifices formed a regular part of some of the eastern religions; in the remoter East, as well as in Syria and in Carthage. The instances re- corded in later times, in the more polished nations of antiquity, were in general single victims, and offered when the public mind was darkened by the dread, or suffering under the infliction, of some tremendous calamity. It may he questioned who- * The Roman prohibitory law against human sacri- fices, quoted by Mr. Prescott from Pliny, is manifestly directed against foreign and Oriental magical rites. Livys words relating to such rites, more non Rornano, titer the bursting alive of men among the Druids was not judicial rather than religiousexecution rather than sacrifice; for the Druids were the judges as well as the priests of the ancient Gauls and Britons. But there is nothing like the refine- ment (if we may use such a word) pf cruelty which, among the nations of Anahsuac, made it part of the law of war that the prisoner should be spared on the battle-field, and deliberately and in cold blood offered to the god of war. The priest, as it were, held the hands of the warrior, in order that him- self might have the exclusive privilege of slaughter. Mr. Prescott, with pardonable, and indeed en- forced incredulity, makes large deductions from the estimates of victims thus regularly sacrificed on the altars in Mexico. Numbers command but little confidence in older histories, whether poetical or traditionary, or, like those of Mexico, chiefly hieroglyphical.* But one fact, he observes, may be considered certain. It was customary to pre- serve the skulls of the sacrificed in buildings ap- propriated to the purpose. Phe companions of Cortes counted 136,000 in one of these edifices. Without attempting a precise calculation, there- fore, it is safe to conclude thrt thousands were yearly offered up, in the different cities of Anahuac, on the bloody altars of the Mexican divinities. The circumstances of these horrid rites were, if possible, more revolting than titO amount of the hecatombs. The flesh runs cold at the account. The more distinguished victims were fattened, as it were, were indulged in every kind of luxury and enjoyment till the day of sacrifice arrived. It was the great national spectacle, the most solemn religious festival. The high pyramidal temples appear to have been constructed for the express purpose of exhibiting the whole minute detail of the torture, and the execution, to the largest nism- her of people. Our abhorrence is increased by the manner in which the priests officiated in the cere- mony, groping among the entrails with their bloody hands for the heart of the victim. But in the darkest depth there is even a darker depth. Some paradoxical writers have attempted to di~ pute tile proofs of cannibalism; which, if less cn~ mon than is supposed, appears to us to rest on incontestable evidence in so many quarters of the world. The most amiable skepticism can, we fear, encourage no doubt tisat in Mexico both priests and both the 1nhi~enias of Euripides, in one of which the victor is taxed t~ tie utterrention of the deity, in the other it is the alt ir of the barbarous Scythian Diana where such ollbt-n~s arc made, show ilte predominant feeling on this subject in C tecce and Rome. Two notes in Miluxans iIsto~ of Christianity, vol. i., p. 27, mention the recorded exce~ tions of later times. * There is somethsn~ very honest in old Bernal Diaz, who accuses Gomara of cunrinonaly exaggerating the numhers slain in tile different battles uitder Cones him- self. Our force scidoni much exceeded four hundred men; and even if we bad fouitd tlte multitude lie speaks of hound hand and foot, we had net been able to put so many to death. 20 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. and people feasted on the flesh of the victims, which was east down among them. It seems to have been a part of the sacrifice just like the feasting on the slaughtered hulls and goats of other religious sacrifices. Alas for human nature, that such things should be in a land where Providence was so lavish of all its bounties ; where man was so far advanced beyond the savagehad learned to improve the blessings of God by the arts of civili- zatlon, and in so many respects had submitted him- self to the softening influence of regular social order, of just and humane institutions, even of many of the domestic virtues. Had the Spaniards appeared in the cities of Mexico solely as the champions of humanityas commissioned by the common Father of mankind forcibly to put down these unspeakable abomi- nationsnot as asserting the sovereignty of a foreign emperor, who had no more right to the supremacy over Mexico than over France or Eng- land, on the preposterous claim of a papal grant; had they raised the banner of the cross only to sa~te the thousand victims of this ferocious super- stition from their unmerited fatenot to compel, by fire and sword, the adoption, we must lint say the belief, of that religion emphatically termed the religion of mercy,ia this case, though the strict justice of such interposition might have been ques- tionable, the stronger sympathies of men would have hailed their triumph. Though their own hands might not be clean, though their own autos daft n~ig1 it rise up against tlienm, as in one respect more ajmpallingas more utterly alien to the spirit of their religionyet no one would have disputed the merit of ridding the earth, and that with such sur- prising valor, of such a monstrous superstition. Let us look, however, at the question in another light. Consider the ferocity which a people mnst have imbibed from these bloody spectacles, and the evidence which is furnished of the warlike charac- ter of a nation which could thus feed its altars with thousands of prisoners, from tribes as strong, if not as well armed, as themselves, and our astonish- mont at the conquest achieved by this handful of Spaniards is immeasurably increased. Consider the dread in which the Aztecs must on this ac- coumit, as well as on others, have been held by the surrounding natioiis. It is even more extraordi- nary, notwithstanding the wide-spread discontent at their tyranny, and the proneness to rebellion or to xvar of the neighboring tribes, that Cortes should fled or make allies who should adhere to him in * Let the reader turn to the advice of an Aztec mother to her daughter(the first article in Mr. Prescotts Ap- pciidix)and though that deepest well-spring of tender- ness. a mothers heart, is never dry, even iii the lowest condition of humanity, and the advice inculcates con- jugal fidelity, not merely because God, who is in erery piece, sees you, but because the law punished adultery with death; yet it seems almost incredible that such pure and gentle, though simply expressed, sentiments could prevail among a people whose altars, whose lips, reeked with human blood. disaster as well as successin defeat as well as in victory. It was this mighty empire, or rather eon- federatinem of empires, which Cortes, with a few hundred Spaniards, did not hesitate to invade, and hoped to subdue. It was not long, indeed, before he discovered the dissensions which existed in the country; that, besides the v br, and arms, and horses of his own few soldiers, he might array some of the most powerful tribes against uhe em- pire of Montezuma; and the revolted subjects of Mexico, weary of their emperors tyrannical sway, would be his best allies. In the first city which he conquered, (Ceinpoalla,) the inhabitants of the town and of the neighboring province, who, ac- cording to his statement, could bring fifty thousand Inca into the field, willingly, as Cortes writes to Charles V., became the vassals of his Majesty. They also begged me to protect them against that mighty lord (Montezuma) who used violent and tyrannical measures to keep them in subjec- tion, and took from theta their sons to be slain, and offered as sacrifices to his idols, with many other complaints against him, in order to avoid whose tyranny they embraced the service of your Majesty, to which they have so far proved faith- ful, and I doubt not will continue so, since they have been uniformly treated by me with favor and attention. Despatches of Cortes, p. 40. In another passage he says, I was not a little pleased on seeing their want of harmony, as it seemed favorable to my designs, and would enable me to bring them more easily into subjection. I applied to their ease the au- thority of the evangelist, who says, Every king- dom divided against itself shall be rendered deso- late. Ibid., p. 64. Cortes very early in his career received intelhi- gence of the hostility of the powerful republic of Tiascala to tIme empire of Mexico, and ecitertained hopes of turning this to his own advantage ; but, though at the same time with the arduous and appalling nature of their enterprise, these more reasonable means of accomplishing it opened upon the minds of the invadersthey had already plunged headlong into the adventure, and the reso- lute heart of Cortes seemed wound up to accom- push it, or to perish in the attempt. In his first despatch to the emperor (the lost despatch, but to which he appeals in the second,) he had assured his Highness that ho (Montezuma) should be taken either dead or alive, or become a subject to the royal throne of your Majesty. (p. 39.) It was a warfare in which they engaged without counting the cost or the hazard, because it was a warfare of conquest and of glory for Spain; still more be- cause it was a holy warfarea warfare against infidels. It was not that they knowingly alleged the pretext of religious zeal to cover the nobler passion of ambition, or the baser one of avarice. There can be no doubt that this of itself was a great, if not the great, dominant impulse. The thirst for gold and for power were so inseparably mixed up with this lofty and disinterested bigotry PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 21 that they themselves never paused to discriminate between the prevailing motives; nor could they have discriminated, if they had ever so scrupulous- ly examined their own hearts. It was, as Mr. Prescott calls it, a crusade; it was one of the last, but not least, vigorous out- bursts of that same spirit which had poured Eu- rope in arms upon the East; and in the Peninsula had just fought out the long and implacable contest of Christian and Moor. Some more enlightened churchmen, like Las Casas, some more gentle- minded and more prudent friars (like Father Olmedo, who was of the utmost use in restraining the blind arid headstrong bigotry of Cortes,) might have gleams of a more genuine Christianity; but in Spanish armies, in Europe as well as iii Anrerica, hardly one, from the Duke of Alva to the meanest common soldier, but believed it, in the depth of his heart, to be his solemn duty to compel tIre baptism of unhelievers at the point of the sword. The velvet banner which Cortcs raised before Iris door at Cuba, to invite adventurers to join him in his enterprise, bore the royal arms, with a cross, arid the motto Brothers, follow the cross iii faith for under its guidance we shall conquer. And besides, (Cortes, as he himself writes, reminded his soldiers,) we are only doing what as Christians we are under obligations to do, by warring against the enemies of the faithby which means we secured to ourselves glory in another world, and gained greater honor arrd rewards, in this life, than had fallen to the lot of any other gemieration at any former period; they should also reflect that God was on our side, and that to him nothing is impossible, as they might see in the victories we had gained, when so marry of the enemy were killed without any loss on our part. On their first serrous affair with the Indians an apostle was be- lieved at the time (or afterwards fabled) to have appeared, and fought on their side. And on otlrer occasions of peril and disaster, the same fimith beheld the same supernatural appearances. Even Diaz himself ceases to doubt in the celestial pres- ence of St. Jago.* Throughout, the Mexicans are the enenries of God and our King. * The passa~e of Bernal Diaz relatiiw to the first appa- rition, which we take from the English translation, is worth notice, as to that story itselt and still urore so with reference to his subsequent convictions. Gomara relates that iii this battle, previous to the arrival of Cortes with his cavalry, one of the Holy Apostles, either St. Jago or Peter, appeared on a dapple-grey horse, under the sem- blance of Francesco do Morla. All our victories were assuredly guided by the hand of our Lord Jesus Christ; but if this were the case, I, a poor sinner, was not worthy to be permitted to see ir, neither was it seen by any of our army, above fonr hundred in number. I certainly saw Francesco do Morla along with Cortes; but he rode a chesnut horse that day. We certainly were bad Chris- tians indeed, ig according to the account of Goinara, God sent one of his Holy Apostles to fight at our head, and we ungratefully neglected to give thanks for so great a mercy; but till I read the chronicle of Gomara, I never heard of the miracle, neither was it ever nientioned by any of tIre conquerors who were present in the battle. We shall not undertake to follow Mr. Prescott through tIme early life of Cortesthse difficulties of the expedition before it qoitted the coasts of Cuba or the miserable weakness and jealousies of the governor, Velasquezwho, after entrusting the charge of the expedition to Cortes, and allowing him to spend his whole fortune, hud all that he could raise from other quarters, on the outfit of the fleetsuddemily endeavored to revoke Iris commis- sion, to arrest the fleet, and either to abandon or to place the enterprise in other hands. It is seine- times of great advantage to be ill-used: even now, as in his own day, tIre vacillating conduct of Ve- lasquez, the low intrigues at his petty court, kindle all the generous sympathies in favor of Cortes; we follow him with breathless interest till Ire is beyond these wretched obstructions. But we are still more inclined to admiration ~t the extraordi- nary skill with which he triumphs over what might seem fatal to Iris success, the divided allegiance of his soldiery. He had to deal with troops, half of them, especially the leaders, malcontentsand malcontents who certainly could plead a higher authority for their mutinous behavior. We are inclined to feel more regret than is expressed by Mr. Prescott at the loss of the first despatch (if Cortes, which has been sought in vain in all the archives of Europe. Some, we think very unreasonably, doubt if it was ever written; and that Cortes alludes to this imaginary document, which it would have been diffictilt to have framed in accordance with Spanishe notions of subordina- tion, especially those which prevailed with tire counsellors of the emperor on Indian affairs. This despatch would have added, perhaps, little to our knowledge of the facts, or of the conduct of Cortes; amid Iris own version ruf the quarrel with Velasquez, and Iris own assertion of independence, may he fully collected from other quartersyet we should have liked to read the exact statement, as he had dressed it up for the imperial ear: still inure his own first fresh impressiorms when ito found himself, not merely in a new land, and with a meek or a hostile savage population, but on tlte verge of a great ennpire, gradually expanding before hrini. The expeditions of Cordova, amid, still more, that of Gnijalva, who had reached the coast of Mexico, had spread the knowledge rif a people who hived ut houses of stone and lime, cul- tivated maize, and possessed gold. Grijalva had seen some of their temples, with their wild priest. hood, and their altars wet with human blood and some vague rumors had transpired of powerful amid wealthy races. But it was not till Cortes could avail himself of the services of Marina, that he had the least noti6n of the extent and power of the Mexican empire. The singular history of thre beautiful and faithful interpreter, the mistress and preserver of Cortes, her unshaken attachment to tire Spaniards, and wonderful escape in all thmeir perils and disasters, is not thre least truly romantic incident in tire romance of their history. 22 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. On the other hand, the picture writing of the Mexicans transmitted immediately to the court the description of these awfol and wonderful strangers who had suddenly appeared upon their shores. Mr. Prescott thus describes this incident, which shows the promptitude with which Cortes seized at once upon every thing which, by impres- sing the Mexican mind with awe of their mysteri- ous powers, might tend to advance his designs of conquest While these things were passing, Cortes ob- served one of Teuhtliles attendants busy with a pencil, apparently delineating some object. On looking at his work, he found that it was a sketch on canvass of the Spaniards, their costumes, arms, and, in short, different objects of interest, giving to each its appropriate form and color. This was the celebrated picture-writing of the Aztecs, and, as Teuhtlile informed him, this man was employed in portraying the various objects for the eye of Montezuma, who would thus gather a more vivid notion of their appearance than from any descrip- tion by words. Cortes was plensed with the idea; and, as he knew how much the effect would be heightened by converting still life into action, he ordered out the cavalry on the beach, the wet sands of which afforded a firm footing for the horses. The bold and rapid movements of the troops, as they went through their military exercises; the apparent ease with which they managed the fiery animals on which they were mounted; the glancing of their weapons, and the shrill cry of the trompet, all filled the spectators with astonishment; hut when they heard the thunders of the cannon, which Cortcs ordered to be fired at the same time, and witnessed the volumes of smoke and flame issuing from these terrible engines, and the rushing sound of the balls, as they dashed throwrh the trees of the neighboring forest, shivering their branches into fragments, they were filled with consternation, from which the Aztec chief himself was not wholly free. Nothing of all this was lost on the painters, who faithfully recorded, after their fashion, every particular; not omitting the ships the water- houses, as they called themof the strangers, which, with their dark hulls and snowxvhite sils reflected from the water, were swinging lazily at anchor on the calm bosom of the bay. All was depicted with a fidelity that excited in their turn the admiration of the Spaniards, who, doubtless unprepared for this exhibition of skill, greatly over-estimated the merits of the execution.Yol. i., pp. 274, 275. It is remarkable how the circumstances of the time conspired to favor the Spanish invaders. Montezuma himself, from arm intrepid warrior and a successful conqueror, had sunk into a secluded and indolent Oriental despotinstead of command- in~ the confidence and devoted attachment of his subjects, the glory which his youthful conquests had obtained for the Mexican name, and the ad- vantagee which had ensued from the more peace- ful years of his reign, were now almest forgotten in his oppressive tyranny. Half-conquered prov- inces, groaning under heavy taxation, had yet the remembrance of their firmner freedom, amid were ready to east off the yoke. It is still more remark- able that the superstition to which Montezuma had surrenoered himself as the devoutest votary, which had led him to crowd the altars with human sacri- fices ~n unprecedented numbers, and to ally him- self by the strongest ties with the bloody priest- hood, now, as it were, turned against him, and prostrated his spirit before the imagined divinity, or at least the predicted success of the stranger. The desperate energy with which the reli~ion, even more than the national spirit, maddened, it is true, by the cruelty or outrages of the Spaniards, rallied under his successor Guatemozin; the actual part which the priesthood took in the last struggle, which was so nearly fatal to the Spaniards; the manner in which the Spaniards themselves were appalled by seeing their brethren in the agony of sacrifice; and the mad hope and ungovernable frenzy of the Mexicans at that manifest triumph of their gods; all combine to show how fortunate it was that the religious feeling of Montezuma was cowed and subdued, and this most powerful weapon of resistance fell, as it were, from his hand. This alone accounts for the strange man- ner in which the mind of Montezuma was para- lyzed at the first news of the landing of the Span- iards. The paintings of the white-bearded men in flyin~ castles, who spoke in thunder and light- ning, shook him with awe, from which he never recovered. All authorities agree about the cur- rency of these prophecies. which no one in the empire believed with more shuddering faith than the emperor. Dryden puts them in the mouth of the high priest in his Indian Emperor. From the intolerable love-rants which fill that strange play, in which Spaniards and Mexicans, Cortes and Montezuma, cross each other in all the wild intricacy of amorous intrigue (as in a comedy de Capa y Espada,) we are inclined to rescue the few lines, more ~~o~by of glorious John. Enter Gayomar hastily: the scene is a Sacrifice in the Temple. Odmar.1\Iy brother Guyomar! methinks I spy, Haste in his steps, and wonder in his eye. MontezumaI sent thee to the frontiers; quickly tell The cause of thy return; are all things well? Guyornar.1 went in order, sir, to your command, To view the utmost limits of tIme land, To that sea-shore where no more world is found, But foaming billows breaking on the ground, Where, for a while, my eyes no object met, But distant skies, that in the ocean set; And low-hung clouds that dippd themselves in ramii To shake their fleeces on the earth again. At last, as f~r as I could cast my eyes UpOn the sea, somewhat methought did rise Like bluish mists, which, still appearing more, look dreadful shapes, and moved towards the shore. MontezumaWhat forms did these new wonders represent? Guyomar.More strange than what your wonder can invent. PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 23 The object I could first distinctly view Was tall, straight trees, which on the waters flew: Wings on their sides, instead of leaves, did grow, Which gathered all the breath the winds could blow; And at their roots grew floating palaces, Whose onthowed bellies cut the yielding seas. .Alontezuma .W hat divine monsters, 0 ye Gods, are these, That float in air, and fly upon the seas! o Came they alive or dead upon the shore Guyomcr.Alas! they lived, too sure; I heard them roar; All turned their sides, and to each other spoke I saw their words breathe out in fire and smoke: Sure t is their voice, that thunders from on high, Or these the younger brothers of the sky; iDeaf with the noise, I took my hasty flight No mortal courage can support the fright. High PriestOld prophecies foretell our fall at hand ViThen bearded men in floating castles land; I see it is of dire portent. Indian Emperor, Act i., Scene 2. Mr. Prescott has collected these prodigies, as they rest on the Mexican authorities, either from chronicles of the time, or from those historians who wrote soon after the conquest. His explana- tion is sensible, and no doubt true In a preceding chapter I have noticed the popular traditions respecting Quetzalcoatl, that deity with a fair coniplexion and flowing beard, so unlike the Indian physiognomy, who, after fulfill- in~ his mission of benevolence among the Aztecs, embarked on the Atlantic Sea for the mysterious shores of Tlapallan. He promised, on his depart- ure, to return at some future day with his pos- terity, and resume the possession of his empire. That day was looked forward to with hope or with apprehension, according to the interest of the believer, hut with general coiifidence throughout the wide borders of the Anahune. Even after the conquest, it still lingered among the Indian races, by whom it was as fondly cherished, as the advent of their king Sebastian continued to be by the Por- tuguese, or that of the Messiah by the Jews. A general feeling seems to have prevailed, in the time of Montezuma, that the period for the return of the deity, aiid the full accomplishment of his promise, was near at hand. This conviction is said to have gained ground from various preter- natural occurrences, reported with more or less detail by all the most ancient historians. In 1510, the great lake of Tezeuco, without the occurrence of a tempest, or earthquake, or any other visible cause, became violently agitated, overflowed its banks, and, pouring into the streets of Mexico, sxvel)t off many of the buildings by the fury of the waters. In 1511, one of the turrets of the great temple took fire, equally without any apparent cause, and continued to burn in defiance of all attempts to extinguish it. In the following years three comets were seen; and not long before the coining of the Spaniards a strange light broke forth in the east. It spread broad at its base on the horizon, and, rising in a pyramidal form, tapered off as it approached the zenith. It resembled a vast sheet or flood of fire, emitting sparkles, or, as an old writer expresses it, seemed thickly powdered with stars. At the same time, low voices were heard in the air, and doleful wailings, as if to an- nounce souxe strange, mysterious calamity! The Aztec monarch, terrified at the ~paritions in the heavens, took council of Nezahu~lpili, who was a great proficient in the subtle science of astrology. But the royal sage cast a deeper cloud over his spirit, by reading in these prodigies the speedy downfall of the empire. Such are the strange stories reported by the chroniciers in which it is not impossible to detect the glimmerings of truth. Nearly thirty years had elapsed since the discovery of the islands by Columbus, and more than twenty since his visit to the American continent. Rumors, more or less distinct, of this wonderful appearance of the white nien, bearing in their hands the thunder and the lightning, so like in many respects to the traditions of Quetzalcoatl, would naturally spread far and wide among the Indian nations. Such rumors, doubtless, long before the lauding of the Spaniards in Mexico, found their way up the grand plateau, filling the minds of men with anticipations of the near coming of the period when the great deity was to return and receive his own again.Vol. I., pp. 283285. What wonder, then, that when Montezuma found himself face to face with the invincible, inevitable stranger, he stood rebuked and awe- struck before him l All his embassies, all his pro- hibitions to advance, all his intrigues, all his con- spiracies, all the courageous resistance of the republicans of Tlascala, had been in vain. From the first moment in which Cortes announced his intention of visiting Mexico, he had been con- stanthy, though slowly, approaching nearer and nearer. Montezuma may have known, probably did know, nothing of the greatest difficulties which embarrassed the movements of Cortesof the dis- sensions in his own camp, the struggles of the par- tisans of Velasquez, joined with the fears of the more timidof the address with which he had per- suaded his troops to invest him with a kind of legal sovereignty in the new colony, holding his power direct from the crown of Spain, and inde- pendent of the governor of Cuba. He might receive vague rumors of the destruction of the ships at Vera Cm . That daring and decisive measure, which plainly announced to the Span- iards that they had no alternative but conquest or death in a foreign land, would not carry its dis- tinct import to the mind of the Mexican; their motives would be obscure, and he could have no notion of the difficulties of building ships for a long sea-voyage. But this he would know, amid know too certainlythat the Spaniards were moving on, and still moving on, aimd that obstacles fell, as by enchantment, before them. They had first reached the great city of Cemnpoalla, aimd had been received with the utmost hospitality; they had awed or won the whole tribe to join them as allies there, too, they hind impiously, yet with impu 24 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQU~ST OF MEXICQ. nity, denied the gods of the land, hurled the idols boldly from their pedestals, cleansed the temples from the blood which had so long flowed in honor of the deities, and set up images of their own to receive divine worship. And the gods had allowed these insults, this total abolition of their rites, to pass unresisted and unavenged! The strangers had gone fearlessly forward, ascended the strong and rugged passes of the Cerdilleras, had reached the great level land, the seat of the Mexican and Tez- cucan empires. The Tiascalans, the most obsti- nate and formidable enemies of the Mexican em- pire, under a most skilful leader, and with the most determined valor, had in vain attempted to arrest their march. They had been ridden over by the gigantic animals which bore the iron men to battle; had been mowed down by thousands with their thunders and lightuings; and had at length been compelled to submission. The con- His soldiers, probably himself, were not without their apprehensions; and the expanding view of the magnificence, power, wealth, populousness of the cities which one after another rose upon their view, could not but contrast with their own narrow files and small company of fifteen horse, and less than four hundred menaccoiinpanied indeed by numerous alliesbut allies on whose fidelity it might well seem presumption to reckon implicitly. Honest Bernal iDiaz is too brave not to own his fears : We continued our march. As our allies had informed us that Montezuma intended to put us all to death after our entry into his city, we were filled with melancholy reflections on our hazardous situation; recommending our souls, therefore, to the Lord Jesus Christ, who had brought us in safety through so many imminent dangers, and resolving to sell our lives at a dear rate, we proceeded on our march. We cannot find room for Mr. Prescotts picturesque descrip / queror had entered Tlascala, and, by the more than human power which he seemed to exercise tion of the first opening of the great valley upon over the minds of men, he had changed these the astonished sight of the Spaniards; nor of the deadly enemies into faithful alliesall Tlascala grandeur and extent of the city. But there are was following the stranger in arms, to assist in the two more touches in Bernal Diaz, so simple, yet conquest of Mexico! But, more astonishing still, which convey so much in a few words, that we the dark and deep-laid conspiracy to cut them off must allow them to stand in place of our authors in Cholula, devised with so much craft, and con- longer description : When, says the adventu- ducted with so much secrecyhad been detected rer, I beheld the delicious scenery around me, I by these strangers, who knew nothing of their thought we had been transported by magic to the language, who communicated with them, and but terrestrial paradise. As he surveyed the city imperfectly, through one of their countrymen and from the height of one of the teocallis or temples, one female native interpreterdetected at the he says : The noise and bustle of the market in moment that it was ripeby what means, unless the great square just below was so great, that it by the gift of reading the heart of man, or by some might easily have been heard almost at the dis- divine communication, they could not conjecture. tance of a league; and some of our companions, The terrible and remorseless vengeance had burst who had seen both Rome and Constantinople, de- upon them at the moment when they expected dared that they had not seen any thing comparable themselves to crush their unheeding adversaries, in those cities fir convenient and regular distribu- Cholula had paid the dreadful penalty of the medi- tion, or numbers of people. tated crime by a massacre which might appal the We proceed at once to the peaceful entrance of stoutest heart. So far, in Mr. Prescotts the Spaniards into the city, and the first interview words, the prowess of the Spaniards, the white of Cortes with Montezuma. Our contempt for the gods, as they were often called, made them to be pusillanimity of Montezuma, from the first mement thought invincible. But it was not till their arri- of this meeting with Cortes, melts into respect for val at Cholula that the natives learned how tern- the dignified courtesy of his demeanor and Ian- ble xvas their vengeanceand they trembled guage; the weak arid superstitious barb. nan be- (Vol. II., p. 33.) From this time, as far as Monte- comes a noble gentleman, bowed by the weight Of zuma was concerned, the conduct of the Mexicans inevitable calamity, and enduring affliction after towards the Spaniards was deprecatory and sub- affliction, insolt after insult, with deep hut sup- missive, as towards beings of another nature ; pressed feeling, with an outward lofty patience, their presents were like lavish offerings to deities vet with an inward agony of xvonnded pride which whose power they wished to propitiate, or at least strives not to betray itself. It is, in the favorite to avert their anger. Notwithstanding the remon- phrase of our neighbors, an august misfortune. strances of his bolder councillors, the emperor With tranquil dignity he puts by the summary had abandoned all thoughts of resistance, and and, no doubt, utterly unintelligible proposal of seemed prepared to await his destiny with a kind Cortes at their first conference, that he should of fearful curiosity, change his religion; and assumes the affable tone The sagacious mind of Cortes had no doubt, and language of a royal host. Mr. Prescott tells some notion of the preternatural character in it well which the Spaniards appeared to the Indians. He listened, however, with silent attention, He took every opportunity of impressing those until the general had concluded his homily. He terrors more deeply on the minds of the people. I then replied, that he knew the Spaniards had held PRESCOTTS hISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 25 rusS tsscourse wherever they had heen. He douht- ed not their God was, as they said, a good Being. His gods, also, were good to him. Yet xvhat his visitor said of the creation of the world was like what he had heen taught to helieve. It was riot worth while to discourse further of the matter. His ancestors, he said, were not the original pro- prietors of the land. They had occupied it hut a few ages, and had heen led there hy a great Being, who, after giving them laws and ruling over the nation for a time, had withdrawn to the regions where the sun rises. He had declared, on his de- parture, that he or his descendants would again visit them and resume his empire. The wonder- ful deeds of the Spaniards, their fair complexions, and the quarter whence they came, all showed they were his descendants. If ontezuma had re- sisted their visit to his capital, it was hecause he had heard such accounts of their crueltiesthat they sent the lightning to consume his people, or crushed them to pieces under the hard feet of the ferocious animals on which they rode. He was now convinced that these were idle tales; that the Spaniards were kind and generous in their na- tures; they were mortals of a different race, in- deed, frmn the Aztecs, wiser, and more valiant and for this he honored them. You, too, he added, with a smile, have heen told, perhaps, that I am a god, and dwell in palaces of gold and silver. But you see it is false. My houses, though large, are of stone and wood like those of others; and as to my hody, he said, haring his tawny arm, you see it is flesh and hone like yours. It is true I have a great empire, inherited from my ancestors; lands, and gold, and silver. But your sovereign heynud the waters is, I know, the rightful lord of all. I rule in his name. You, Malintzin, are his amhassador; you arid your hrcthren shall share these things with me. Rest now from your lahors. You are here in your own dwellings, and every thing shall he provided for your suhsistence. I xvill see that your wishes shall he oheyed in the same way as my own. As the monarch concluded these words, a few natural tears suffused his eyes, while the image of ancient independence perhaps, flitted across his mind. *** * * The iron hearts of the Spaniards were touched with the emotion displayed hy Montezuma, as well as hy his princely spirit of liherality. As they passed him, the cavaliers, with honnet in hand, made him the most profound obeisance, and on the way home, continues the same chronicler, we could discourse of nothing hut the Fentle hreeding and courtesy of the Indian monarch, and of the respect we entertained for him. Vol. ii.. pp. 8284. Yet, in all the astonishment which Cortes felt, at seeing that mighty emperor thus, as it were, offering allegiance to his master, and heaping the most costly l)resents on the soldiery with imperial munificence, he never for an instant forgets any precaution which may tend to security in his haz- ardous position, nor any measure which may deepen the awe of his power. That very night Mexico is startled with the terrific thunder of these new gods. The whole artillery is fired, as if for a salute of rejoicing, that while its hooming sounds were heard, and its snlphurons exhalations cloud- ed over the city, Mexico might cease to wonder at the snhmission of her emperor to heings who thus wielded the arms of Heaven. Natural curiosity might lead Certes almost immediately to demand permission to survey the magnificence, the extent, and the wealth of the city; and even to enter the temples, to ascertain the real character of the gods they worshipped, and the reli~ous ceremonies they practised. The effect, if not the ohject, of the former, would he to stimulate the insatiahle avarice of his followers, to increase their hopes of plunder to such a height as to make them shrink from rio danger, hesitate at no aggression; in the latter, the unspeakahle horrors of the bloody al- tars, the remains of human sacrifices, the earmnihal priests, might steel their hearts, and even his own, to the remorseless fulfilment of his designs. Men of less fanatic faith might have imagined them- selves summoned hy a divine impulse, moved as Cortes declares himself on one, and that a far less justifiahle, occasion, hy the Holy Ghost, to risk all to rid the world of such enormities. On this sub- ject we will only say further, that it was here that the Spanish soldiers counted the 136,000 skulls of human victims, laid up as memorials of the devotion of the Mexican people. We turn to the darkening tragedy of Montezu- ma. His courteous reception of the Spaniards, his suhmissive acknowledgment of the superiority of the Emperor Charles, ahove all the liberality of his gifts, embarrassed Cortes more than open hos- tility; it had whetted the appetites of the soldiery for gold ; it had encouraged the resolution of Cor- tes to effect a complete conquest of the country, yet seemed to have cut off all justification for fur- ther aggression. Yet Cortes had only heen six days in the city when he determined on the sei- zure of the emperor in his own palace. Ambition can always find pretexts; aimd an event which had happened when Cortes was at Cholula had been, perhaps, treasured in his recollection for such an occasion. Two Spaniards had been murdered on their way from Vera Crnz, where Cortes had left 150 men to guard his infant settlement, to Alme- na, the cacique of which city had tendered his al- legiance. In a hattle which followed to revenge the death of these Spaniards, the Indians had been totally defeated, but the captain, Escalante, and several other Spaniards slain. It was convenient to charge this on the secret hostility of Montezu- ma: no doubt, therefore, could be allowed to exist of his guilt; yet Cortes, as if he was secure against any high moral indignation on the part of his mas- ter, in his despatch to Charles V., fairly owns that he had fully resolved on the seizure of Montezuma, before he called to mind this event. There is a frankness in his avowal, that he thought all means lawful to ~dvance what he considered his soy- ereign s interest, so characteristic of the times and of the man, as to make his own words worthy of quotation Judging from these thincs and from what 1 had observed of the country, that it would subserve 26 PRESCOTT~ S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. the interests of your Majesty and our own security, if Moteezurna was in my power, and not wholly free from restraint in order that he might not he diverted from the resolution and willing spirit which lie shoxved in the service of your Majesty, especially as we Spaniards were somewhat trouble- some and difficult to please; lest feeling annoyed on any occasion, he should do us some serious in- jury, and even might cause all memory of us to perish, in the exercise of his great power. It also appeared to me, that if he was under my control, all the other countries that were subject to him would he more easily brought to the knowledge and service of your Majesty, as afterwards actually happened. I resolved, therefore, to take him and place him in my quarters, which were of great strength. The manner in which he fulfilled this virtuous res- olution, he relates with the same quiet coolness Having used the precaution to station guards at the corner of the streets, I went to the palace of Moteezuma, as I had before often done, to visit him; and after concersinn with kim in a sportive manner on agreeable topics, and receiving at his hands some jewels of gold, and one of his own daughters, together with several daughters of his nobles for some of my company, I then said unto him (Despatches of Cones, p. 92.) The speech, uttered no doubt in stately Spanish by Cortes, and rendered into elegant Mexican by Marina, amounted in plain English to this while to refuse them would hut expose him~self to violence, perhaps to death. Marina, doubtless, spoke to her sovereign as she thought, and no one had better opportunity of knowing the truth than herself. This last appeal shook the resolution of Mon- tezuma. It was in vain that the unhappy prince looked around for sympathy ~r support. As his eyes wandered over the stern visages and iron forms of the Spaniards, lie felt that his hour was indeed come; and, with a voice scarcely audible from emotion, he consented to accompany the strange rs,to quit the palace, whither lie was never more to return. Had he possessed the spirit of the first Montezuma, he would have called his guards around him, and left his life-blood on the threshold, sooner than have been dragged a dis- honored captive across it. But his courage sank under the circumstances. He felt he was the in- strument of an irresistible Fate Vol. ii., pp. 153155. But what was this degradation to that which followed in a few days l At first he was treated with the utmost courtesy. He had full enjoyment of all the luxuries, the splendor of his state. He could command the presence of his wives and of his courtiers. He gave public audience, though every avenue was strongly guarded by the Spanish soldiery. Even the Spaniards treated him with the mockery of respect. But when the cacique arrived who had been engaged in the battle with the Spaniards, the emperor was compelled to ratify the sentence of death upon his own subjects, who, when the sentence was passed, pleaded his impe- rial orders. He was compelled to witness their execution with fetters on his own limbs. The criminals were burned alivea kind of execution apparently unknown in Mexico. To us it may awaken revolting reminiscences of scenes enough in Europe, from which Cortes and his soldiers may have learned the terrible impressiveness of this kind of death. Cortes, ever mingling policy with his most atrocious acts, ordered the pyres to be constructed of the arrows, javelins, and other wea- pons from the arsenals around the great temple; thus craftily depriving the people of the arms which they niight seize at any time, and turn against their oppressors. Montezuma was speechless under the infliction of this last insult. He was like one struck down by a heavy blow, that deprives him of all his facul- ties. He offered no resistance ; but, though he spoke not a word, low, ill-suppressed moans, from time to time, intimated the anguish of his spirit. his attendants, bathed in tears, offered him their consolations. They tenderly held his feet in their arms, and endeavored, by inserting their shawls and mantles, to relieve them from the pressure of the iron. But they could not reach the iron which had penetrated into his soul. He felt that he was no more a king.~Z~Vol. ii., p. 159. This aggravation of insult might appear doubt- ful policy, but its success seemed to justify its wisdom, and of its cruelty no one took account. Cortes with his own hand, and with a solemn that he was a prisonerthat he was accused of beiu~ an accomplice in the hostilities of the cacique of Almeriathat Cortes could not believe him guil- tv of such unfriendly treachery, but nevertheless lie must march away to the Spanish quarters. Montezuma listened to this proposal, and the flimsy reasoning with which it was covered, with looks of profound amazement. He became pale as (loath; but in a moment, his face flushed with resentment, as, with the pride of offended dignity, ho exclaimed, When was it ever heard that a great prince, like myself, voluntarily left his own palace to become a prisoner in the hands of strangers i Cortes assured him he would not go as a pris- oner. He would experience nothin~ but respect- ful treatment from the Spaniards; would be sur- rounded by his own household, and hold inter- course with his people as usual. In short it would he but a change of residence, from ommo of his palaces to another, a circumstance of frequemit occurrence with him.It was in vain. If I should consent to such a degradation, lie answer- ed, my subjects never would! When further pressed, he offered to give up one of his sons and of his daughters, to remain as hostages with the Spaniards, so that lie might be spared this disgrace. Two hours p ssed in this fruitless discussion, till a high-mettled cavalier, Velasquez do Leon, impatient of the long delay, and seeing that the attempt, if not the deed, must mimi them cried out, Why do we waste words on this barbarian? We have gone too far to recede now. Let us seize him, and, if he resists, plunge our swords into his body! The fierce tone and menacing gestures with which this was uttered, alarmed time monarch, who inquired of Marina what the angry Spaniard said. The interpreter explained it in as gentle a manner as she could, beseechimig him to accompany the white men to their quarters, wlmere mockery of reverence, loosened the fetters, and he would be treated with all respect and kindness, then offered Montezuma his freedom; but lie had PRESCOTTS HISTOLY OF TIlE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 27 read the heart of the humbled monarch, who, from fear or from shame, could flO longer fcee his indig- nant subjects the emperor reincined a wihhino- prisoner, lie even seems to have subdued his mind to his fortun~s. [To won the hearts of the Spaniar.b; by his dignifiel familiarity. He seemed to revive to the power of enjoyment. Under Spanieb custody he practised his devotions in the temple under Spanish costody he indulged in the pleasures of the chase. With consummate address, Cortes persuaded him that it was for his amusement that some hrigantiues were built, to exhibit to the wondering Mexicans the manner in which the Spaniards commanded the winds of heaven to impel their large vessels as they pleased. tortes, meantime, was thus securing the ]naotery of lice lake, either as a means of defence or of retreat. Before long, Cortes ventured to suggest to the obseg nious emperor the formal recognition of his master s supremacy. The caciques were sum- moned to a great public assembly. Montezuma, not without tears, took his own oath of fealty to the sovereign of tho white men and not with- out tears did his subjects a~seut to their abase- ment, and prove their loyal attachment by hum- bly following the example of their monarch. Even the hard Spaniards were moved at this touching scene. i~s a tangible acknowledgment of their fealty, the trasures of the land were brou~ht in from all quart ~rs as a tribute to the white mm. lied Montezuma known the difficul- ties of Cortes in dividing this spoil, and the severe trial to which it subjected his authority over his army, the tribute would have appeared a politic measure v~t, thus steeped in deg oiatoo to the lips. Montezuma, as if spell-bound, retained his fidelity, lie consented to degrade the sovereign of Tezeuco. (Cacom otzin,) who was hostile to the Spaniards, and to invest his brother, who was more flexible to Spanish influence, with the royal dignity. When (ortes demanded possession of one of the temples, cleansed it from all its defilements, and insulted the religious feelings of tile whole nation by the solemn and public performance of the Christian ritual in one of their own most stately Sanctuaries, it was Montezunca who warned him of the danger of thus provoking to the utmost his priests and priest-led people, betrayed the growing disaffection, and made Cortes aware that the fires of the volcano were brooding, and ready to burst, beneath him. According to Bernal Diaz, Montezuma, at a solemn conference, declared to Cortes that he was extremely griex ed at the maui- festatiouc of lice will of his gods that we should all he put to death, or expelled from Mexico. lie therefore, as our sincere friend, earnestly recoin- men-led that we should not rumc the risk of inetir- ing time indignatiouc of his subjects, but should save our lives by a retreat whilst ticat remained within our power. From this moment the Span- iards slept upon their arms, with their cannon pointed, and with every pceeantion against sur- prise. We were foil of terror of being attacked by the whole force of a numerous amid warlike people, exasperated by the insults we had heaped on their sovereigis and their religion. Cortes Icad sent tlce master shipbuilder, Lopez, with Aztec artizans, to tice coast,to build vessels for their return to Spainbtit it is said with secret instructiomis to delay their ceniplotion. It was at this perilous juncture ticat ice achieved the most wonderful of all his wonderful exploits. lIe received intelligence that a Spanish force had landed, ucider a leader of reputation, boldly an- nonneilig that they came, if not witic an imperial conunission, with superior authority, to supersede, to degrade, to lead him away from the scene of his conquests. The whole of this army seemed to be impregnated with the implacable hostility of his old enemy, Velasquez, the govermior of Cuba, who had fitted out time expedition, and was eager to seize the golden prize fromn his grasp. This force was well appointedin number three times as great as tice whole of that under Cortesperhaps four times, at least, as great as that which he could bring into the field against them. Yet, imc an incredibly short time, Cortes is marching back to Mexico at the head of the troops who came to depose him, now mingled, if umot altogether in cor- dial amnity, yet with outevard unanimity, among his owim veteran soldiers ; lie has cajoled by smooth languagehe has bribed, lie has beaten his enemies imito his own ranks; the general, Nar- x aez, is his prisoner; amid he finds himself at the head of a neuch larger Spaimish force, with artillery, ammunition, and niltice necessaries of war return- ing to the capital, unhappily, not to support, but save, if possible, the feeble and ill-commanded garrison xvhcom he had left in Mexico. It is not the least testimnommy to thc transcendent abilities of Cortee, that, unless perhaps where Samidoval was in command, wherever he was not persoumahly present all went wromig. Alvarado, whmomn he hind left at the Icead of time troops in l\lcxico, had mm erie quality of a captain but intre- pid courage. The massacre of six hundred Aztec nobles, tcnarmcd, duritcg the peaceful celebration * Not merely is Mr. Prescotts narrative in this part more full and circumstantial luau that of De Sohis, but lime imlml)ression is cuitirely different. De Soils slurs over the daring insult to time neliginim of the country, and the scene of the Christiami service in a part of one of the Mex- ican temples, so strikingly told by Mr. Prescott. Accor- ding no his view, Montezuma grew inipatient of the Icresence of the Spanicuds, more than hinted that the pur- poses of their enihassy Icad tieen fulfilled, and that it was now time for them to deparl. He says little more on the profound religions excitement than timat the devil wearied Montezuma with horrible menaces, giving to his idols a voice, on what seemed a voice, to irritate him against the Spauciards. Ttohcertson is niore full and par- ticular thcamm De Soils; lint Mr. Prescott has seized, we lhcimuk, with as much accuracy as picturesqueness of de- scription, the real turning point in the fortunes of the Spaniards. 2S PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. of a religious ceremony, had at length maddened the whole people to revolt. There is no direct information whether the cruelty or rapacity of Alvarado, or some secret intelligence of a conspir- acy, (not improbable, when the Mexicans saw that their whole city was now held in check by but a handful of the Spaniards,) had prompted this ill- timed and ill-conducted mimicry of the great blow struck by Cortes at Cholula; but from this time the whole Aztec nation was leagued in implacable hos- tility to the Spaniards. Alvarado and his garrison were shut up in the fortress, in danger of perishing by famine, (for all the markets had ceased,) and still more by want of water. Cortes, now at the head of seventy horse, and five hundred foot, was ad- vancing, not to the peaceful redecupation of the capital, but to the rescuehe could scarcely hope the timely rescueof hit men. Through a silent and unpeopled country, over the silent and unpeo- pled lake, through the silent and unpeopled streets of Mexico, he arrives at the gates of the fortress, and unites his whole force to encounter the multi- plying dangers. Even Cortes himself allowed his Spanish pride to blind his cool and sagacious judgment. He treated Montezuma, who still protested his fidelity to the Spanish cause, with the most galling con- tempt. ~Vhen he spurned the dog of a king from his presence, he not only utterly hroke the spirit of the unhappy monarch, but hy violating that divinity which, according to the Aztec feeling, still hedged the king, he abandoned all the advantage which he had hitherto gained by the possession of the royal person. By a still more fatal and unaccountable error he released at that moment the brother of Montezuma, a bold warrior, who no doubt spread abroad the intelligence of this last insult to the emperor, and set himself at once at the head of the insurrection. Cortes had yet to learn the terrible energy of a nations de- spair the tame submission with which the Aztecs had up to this time borne the foreign yoke, and endured plunder, insult, the injury to their king, the occupation of their capital, the contemptuous outrage on their religion, had led him to a false esti- mate of his own immeasurable superiority: the con- quest, instead of being achieved, was hardly begun. No passage in the Spanish conquest of Mexico is so well known, or had been told so well, as the conflict within the city, the death of Montezuma, the storming of the temple; the retreat of the Spaniards over the hroken causeways and the chasms where the bridges had been destroyed all the awful adventures of the Noehe Triste, the melancholy night. Mr. Prescott (and it is saying much in his favor) does not fail in this great trial of his strength; he maintains throughout the clear- ness and animation of his narrative. We pass reluctantly over the death of Montezuma. Faith- ful, it should seem, to the last, he desired to be taken to the battlements, and endeavored to re- press the furious onset of his people. At first the sight of the emperor commanded awe: but the si- lence soon gave place to the language of contempt and indignity. They taunted him as a woman; they heaped contumely upon his head. At length, probably supposing that he had withdrawn, they discharged a volley of arrows and of stones against the spot where he had stood. ~A stone struck him on the heads and he fell senseless: he recovered, but his heart was broken; he obstinately refused all remedies, pined axx y and died. We must make room for Mr. Prescotts storming of the temple Cortes, having cleared a way for the assault, sprang up the lower stairway, followed by Alva- rado, Sandoval, Ordaz. and the other gallant cava- liers of his little band, leaving a file of arquebusiers and a strong corps of Indian allies to hold the ene- my in check at the foot of the monument. On the first landing, as well as on the several galleries above, and on the summit, the Aztec warriors were drawn up to dispute his passage. From their elevated position they showered down volleys of lighter missiles, together with heavy stones, beams, and burning rafters, which, thundering along the stairway, overturned the ascending Spaniards, and carried desolation through their ranks. The more fortunate, eluding or springing over these obstacles, succeeded in gaining the first terrace, where, throwing themselves on their ene- mies, they compelled them, after a short resistance, to fall back. The assailants pressed on, effectually supported by a brisk fire of the musketeers from below, which so much galled the Mexicans in their exposed situation that they were glad to take shelter on the broad summit of the teocalli. Cortes and his comrades were close upon their rear, and the two parties soon found themselves face to face on this adrial battle-field, engaged in mortal comb~t in presence of the whole city, as well as of the troops in the court-yard, who paused, as if by mutual consent, from their own hostilities,. gazing in silent expectation on the issue of those above. The area, though somewhat smaller than the base of the /eocelli, was large enough to afford a fair field of fight for a thousand combatants. It was paved with broad, flat stones. No impedi- ment occurred over its surface, except the huge sacrificial block, and the temples of stone which rose to the height of forty feet, at the further ex- tremity of the arena. One of these had been con- secrated to the cross ; the other was still occupied by the Mexican war-god. The Christian and the Aztec contended for their religions under the very shadow of their respective shrines; while the In- dian priests, running to and fin, with their hair wildly streaming over their sable mantles, seemed hovering in mid-air, like so many demons of dark- ness urging on the work of slaughter. The parties closed with the desperate fury of men who had no hope but in victory. Quarter was neither asked nor given; and to fly was im- possible. The edge of the area was unprotected by parapet or battlement. The least slip would he fatal; and the combatants, as they struggled in mortal agony, were sometimes seen to roll over the sheer sides of the l)recipice together. Cortes himself is said to have had a narrow escape from this dreadful fate. Two warriors, of strong mus- cular frames, seized on him, and were dragging him violently towards the brink of the pyramid. PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF TEE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. 29 Aware of their intention, he struggled with all his force, and, before they could accomplish their pur- pose, succeeded in tearing himself from their grasp, and hurling one of them over the walls with his own arm. The story is not improhable in itself, for Corte.s was a man of uncommon agility and strength. It has heen often repeated; hut not hy contemporary history. The hattie lasted with unintermitting fury for three hours. The number of the enemy was dou- hle that of the Christians ; and it seemed as if it were a contest which must he determined hy num- l)Crs and hrnte force, rather than hy superior sci- ence. But it was not so. The invulnerahle armor of the Spaniard, his sword of matchless temper, and his skill in the use of it, gave him advantages which far outweighed the odds of physical strength and numbers. After doing all that the courage of despair could enable men to do, resIstance grew fainter and fainter on the side of the Aztecs. One after another they had fallen. Two or three l)riests only survived to he led away in triumph hy the victors. Every other combatant was stretched a corpse on the bloody arena, or had heen hurled from the giddy heights. Yet the loss of the Span- iards was not inconsiderahie: it amounted to forty- five of their best men; and nearly all of the re- mainder were more or less injured in the desperate conflict. The victorious cavaliers now rushed towards tIme sanctuaries. The lower story was of stone, the two upper were of wood. Penetrating into their recesses, they had the mortification to find the image of the Virgin and Cross removed. But in the other edifice they still heheld the grim figure of Iluitzilopotchli, with his censer of smoking hearts, and the walls of his oratory reeking with gorenot improhably of their own countrymen. With shouts of triumph the Christians tore the uncouth monster from his niche, and tumhled him, in the presence of the horror-struck Aztecs, down the steps of the teocrdli. They then set fire to the accursed huilding. The flame speedily ran up the slender towers, sending forth an ominous light over cIty, lake, and valley, to the remotest hut among the mountains. It was the funevl pyre of paganism, and proclaimed the fall of that sangui- nary religion which had so long hung like a dark cloud over the fair regions of Anahuac. Vol. ii., p. 297. There is a fine epic interest in the midnight re- treat along the causeways. The battle, from its local cmrcumstances, is perfectly distinct and intelligihie; while, on the Spanish side, the individual feats of valor, the personal exploits of Alvarado,Velasquez, Sandoval, and ahove all of Cortes himself, awaken breathless sympathy. XVe watch for the emerging of the survivors of that gallant hand, out of the wild confusion and darkiiess, over the chasms of the hroken hridges, over the lost artillery, the treasure thrown away in the last agony of flight, over the bodies of their own mcii and horses mingled with the heaps of slaughtered Mexicans, as for the winding up of a romance: and how touching is the close The Spanish commander dismounted from his jaded steed, and, sitting down on the steps of an Indian temple, gazed mournfully on the hroken files as they passed hefore him. What a spectacle did they present! The cavalry, most of them dis mounted, were mingled with the infantry, who dragged their feeble limbs along with difficulty; their shattered mail and tattered garments dripping with the salt ooze, showing through their rents many a hruise and ghastly wound; their hright arms soiled, their proud crests and hanners gone, the haggage, artilleryall, in short, that consti- tutes the pride and panoply of glorious war, for- ever lost. Cortes, as he looked~xvistfuliy on their thinned and disordered ranks, sought in vain for many a f~~oili~~ face, and missed more than one dear companion who lied stood side hy side with him thfough all the perils of the conquest. Though accustomed to control his emotions, or, at least, to conceal them, the sight was too much for him. He covered his f-ce with his hands, and the tears, which trickled down, revealed too plainly the anguish of his soul.Vol. ii., p. 340. But if the miimd of Cortes was once bewildered hy the pride of success, how did it rise to meet adversity 3 In one week after the retreat along the causeway, with his diminished and hroken force, without his artillery, with almost all his crosshows gone, with hut few of his horses, with many of his men and himself severely wounded, he fights the great hattie of Otumba against the whole force of the Mexican empire; he wins it hy his own personal prowess in killing the commander of the hostile arIny. Yet this wonderful man, to whom all the other contemporary writers assign this crowning exploit, in his despatch to the emperor, notices it in these words : We were engaged during time greater part of the day, until it pleased God that one should fall, who must have been a leading personage amongst them, as at his death the hat- tie ceased. It was the quick eye of Cortes which saw the importance of the death of this cacique, as well as his strong arm which struck him down. Well may Mr. Prescott say that these modest words form a beautiful contrast to the style of panegyric in others. In the hour of his darkest disaster, Cortes never despaired of the final suhjogation of Mexico. The hattle of Otumba secured the fidelity of the Tias- calans.* There was still a powerful party in that city, headed by Xicotencatl, who urged the aban- donment of the Spaniards to their fate; wisely foreseeiIig that the only security for their own freedom, as well as that of Mexico, was the expulsion of the stranger from the land. But either tIme old hatred of Mexico, and the dread of her vengeance, or awe of the Spaniards, and the involuntary respect extorted by their valor under these trials, and their unexpected victory, secured the ascendency of the Spanish party in the senate of Tiascala. The Mexican envoys, who had been sent to organize a general league against the * De Solis gives an account of the Thascalan senate assembling all their best physicians to attend nim Cones; and attributes the cure of his serious wound on the bead entirely to their skilful treatment. If Gil Bias is good authority for Spanish medical science, even at a later period, Cortes umay have been fortunate in his Indian doctors. 30 PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. invaders, were dismissed with a stern rejection of their offers. What was still more extraordinary, Cortes at last shamed the dispirited followers of Narvaez, who had shared all the disasters ,and tasted nothing of the glory or the gain of his own veterans, into something of the general enthusi- asm. Unexpected supplics arrived on the coast, guns and ammunition, and men and horses; and some spell of magic might seem to gather them all, in unhesitating obedience, under his hanner. An unexpected ally impeded, for a timd at least, the preparations of the Mexicans. The communi- cation of diseases seems an inevitable evil, which attends the contact of different races, and partly from i~norance of their treatment, partly from the new force which they seem to acquire hy heing imparted to fresh constitutions, they in general hecome more than usually destructive. The small-pox had been brought to the shores of Mex- ico, it is supposed, hy a negro, on hoard of one of the ships, and spread with frightful fatality. The new emperor, Cuitlahuac, was among its victims. Yet eventually the accession of Guatemozin to the throne, gave new vigor and ohstinacy to the resist- ance. The noble valor of Guatemozin retrieved the royal race from the pusillanimity of Monte- zuma. Numancia or Saragossa were not defended with greater intrepidity or more unshaken endu- rance than Mexico. We cannot follow the siege in all its strange vicissitudes and romantic adven- tures; but unless famine and pestilence had assisted in the work of destruction, the issue, not- withstanding the multiplying thousands of Indians, whose aid Cortes was now glad to accept, might have heen more doubtful.* Once, it is well known that the Spaniards who had penetrated into the city were driven out of it, and took refuge in their own quarters. It was then that the appal- ling scene took place, with which we shall close our extracts from Mr. Prescott It was late in the afternoon when he reached them; hot the sun was still lingering ahove the western hills, and poured its beams wide over the valley, lighting up the old towers and temples of Tenochtitlan with a mellow radiance, that little harmonized with the dark scenes of strife in which the city had so lately been involved. The tran- quillity of the hour, however, was on a sudden broken by the strange sounds of the great drum in the temple of the war-god ,sounds which re * These numbers evidently increased beyond the con- trol of Cortes. Cortes, in one place, speaks of one hun- dred and fifty thousand men to nine hundred Spaniards. He was obliged to allow them to plunder on their own account, and thus to snatch a large part of the rewards of their victories from the hands of the Spaniards. There is a still more extraordinary proof of their indepen- dent adherence to their old habits And that night (the night of a battle in which one thousand five hundred of the most distinguished Mexicans had been slain) our allies were well supplied for their supper, as they took the bodie, of the slain and cut them up for food (Dc- spz!ch cc, p. ~13.) We hope that these were not among the & ristiae converts. called the noclic triste, with all its terrible images, to the minds of the Spaniards, for that was the only occasion on which they had ever heard them. They intimated some solemn act of religion within the unhallowed precincts of the teocalli; and the soldiers, startled by the mournful vibrations, which might be heard for leagues ~acress the valley, turned their eyes to the quartcr whence they pro- ceeded. There they beheld a long procession winding up the huge sides of the pyramid~ for the camp of Alvarado was pitched scarcely a mile frotn the city, and objects are distinctly visible, at a great distance, in the transparent atmosphere of the table-land. As the long file of priests and warriors reached the fiat summit of the teocalli, the Spaniards saxv the figures of several men stripped to their waists, some of whom, by the whiteness of their skins, they recognized as their own countrymen. They were the victims for sacrifice. Their heads were gaudily decorated with coronals of plumes, and they carried fans in their hands. They were urged along by blows, and compelled to take part in the dances in honor of the Aztec war-god. The unfortunate captives, then stripped of their sad finery, were stretched, one after another, on the great stone of sacrifice. On its convex surface, their breasts were heaved up conveniently for the diabolical purpose of the priestly executioner, who cut asunder the ribs by a strong blow with his sharp razor of jizili, and thrusting his hand into the wound, tore away the heart, which, hot and reeking, was deposited on the golden censer before the idol. The body of the slaughtered victim was then hurled down the steep stairs of the pyramid, which, it may he remembered, were placed at the same angle of the pile, one flight below another; and the mutilated remains were gathered up hy the savages beneath, who soon prepared with them the cannibal repast which completed the work of abomination. We may imagine with what sensations the stupifled Spaniards must have gazed on this horrid spectacle, so near that they could almost recognize the persons of their unfortunate friends, see the struggles and writhing of their bodies, hearor fancy that they heardtheir screams of agony; yet so far removed, that they could render them no as- sistance. Their limbs trembled beneath them, as they thought what might one day be their own fate; and the bravest among them, who had hith- erto gone to battle as careless and light-hearted as to the banquet or the ball-room, were unable, from this time forward, to encounter their ferocious enemy without a sickening feeling, much akin to fear, coming over them. Vol. iii., pp. 135137. Cortes himself acknowledges the peril and the desperation of his troops. The following extract from the despatches shows the extremity to which they were reduced God knows the dangers which they encoun- tered in this expedition, (against Mataleingo,) and also to which we who remained behind were ex- posed ; hut as it was the best policy for us to exhibit greater courage and resolution than ever, and even to die in arms, we concealed our weak- ness as well from our allies as from the enemy; and often, very often, have I heard the Spanish soldiers declare that they only wished it would please God to spare their lives, and make them conquerors of the city, although they should do- 31 PRESCOTTS HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. r~ve no interest nor advantage from it; from which it will be seen to what extremity we were reduced, and on what a slender chanee we held our persons and lives. Despotchcs, P. 304. Whether their prayers were sineere or not, these were the only terms on which they at length obtained possession of the city. They were liter- ally forced to burn as they went along. All the buildings for splendor or for luxury, for the gor- geous pleasures of the king, er the worship of the idols, went down one by one ; and the line of the progress of the Spaniards was marked by the total demolition of the city. They won it, street by street, square by square, and as they won de- stroyed on either side. The palaces, the aviary, the gardens sunk in the flames, and by their rub- bish formed an open and unexposed road for the conquerors. Even the stern heart of Cortes* was touched; he was moved, we may helieve, with more generous feelings than the disappointment of his rapacity, as the Queen of the Valley, with all her ~vealth and splendor, gradually smouldered in ashes, or sunk into the lake. He was master of the beautiful site of l\lexico, but Mexico had perished. The state of misery to which the few gallant survivors were reduced is strangely shown in their characteristic language to Cortes, when summoned to surrender They said to me, that since they regarded me as the offspring of the sun, and the sun in so short a space of time as one day and one night revolved around the whole world, I ought therefore to de- spatch them out of life in as brief a space as pos- sible; and thus deliver them from their troubles: for they desired to go to heaven to their Orchilobus, (qo.) who was waiting to receive them into a state of peaceful repose.Despatehes, P. 322. They fought till they had no way to fight but over the bodies of the slain. The siege lasted for seventy-five days ; of the amount of carnage, it is impossible to form any conjecture. Cortes, on one occasion, speaks of 12,000in others of 50,000 killed in one conflict. And this warfare was carried on in the name and under the Cross of Christ! Dc Solis, like a skilful dramatist, closes his hook with the catastrophe of the capture of Guate- mozmn. Mr. Prescott c~rries us on through the shifting vicissitudes of the life of Cortes, his popu- larity in Spain, his favor at the court, his later disastrous adventures in other parts of the Amen- * Considering that the inhabitants of the city were rebels, and that they discovered so strong a determination to defend themselves or perish, I inferred two things; first, that we should recover little or nothing of the wealth ~fmrhieh they had deprived us! and second, that they had given us occasion and compelled us utterly to exterminate them. On this last consideration I dwelt with most feel- ing, and it weighed heavily on my mind. After de- scribing the more noble and more gay and elegant buildings, he adds, Although it grieved me much, yet as it grieved the enemy more, I determined to burn these palaces.Despatches, p. 280. can continent. IDe Solis, no doubt, broke off where he did, nor only to heighten the effect of his work, hot lest he should be constrained to darken the brilliant panegyric of his hero, Cortes. Cortes could restrain his soldiers during the war by his severe discipline ; he could support their courage under reverses; but he wanted either the power or the will to restrain the gxeesses of their rapacity when conquerors. Nor was this in the heat and flush of victory. The foul stain on the Spanish character of Cortes, who, at least, did not set his face, as a flint, against such barbarity, was the treatment of the captive Guatemozin. The emperor, the gallant foe, was cruelly tortured, in order to make him reveal the hiding-place of ima- ginary treasures. And this was the man whose language I-Iumboldt justly compares to the noblest passages in Greek or Roman story. When brought before Cortes on his first capture,let Mr. Prescott tell the tale Cortes came forward with a dignified and studied courtesy to receive him. The Aztec mon- arch probably knew the person of his conqueror, for he first broke silence by saying: I have done all that I could to defend myself and my people. I am now reduced to this state. You will deal with me, Malintzin, as you list. Then laying his hand on the hilt of a poinard, stuck in the gene- rals belt, he added with vehemence, Better de- spatch me with this, and rid me of life at once. Cortes was filled with admiration at the proud bearing of the young barbarian, showing in his reverses a spirit worthy of an ancient Roman. Fear not, he replied, you shall be treated with all honor. You have defended your capital like a brave warrior. A Spaniard knows how to respect valor even in an enemy. Vol. iii., pp. 182, 183. A darker story is behind; at a later period Guatemozin, for what seems an imaginary, or at least unproved conspiracy, was actually hanged by the command of Cortes. Thus Mexico became a province of Spain, and a part of Christendom, with what results we can but briefly inquire. History seems to speak, signifi- cantly enough, as to the extent of advantage acquired by Spain from these conquests, purchased at the price of so much blood and crime. It is a whimsical notion of the author of the. True-born Englishman, that the devil luckily enabled the Spaniards to discover South America, because the wealth of those provinces, in the hands of any but that proud nation, would have been fatal to the liberties of mankind: thus, by the way, represent- ing the devil as rather more favorable to the liber- ties of man than might be expected. The subtile Prince thought fittest to bestow On them the golden ffiines of Mexico, With all the silver mountains of Peru; Wealth which would in wise hands the world undo. For Mexico, we are not without our fears lest Mr. Prescotts glowing description of the reign of Prince Nezahualenyoti might, under the older PRESCOTT S HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO. Spanish rule, have awakened some fond regret for the departure of his golden age and in the pres- ent day might contrast not too favorably with the state of the Independent Republic. Mr. Stephens lively account of his vain search for the govern- ment to which he was accreditedj and Madame Calderon do la Barca~s very pleasing volumes, do not represent the social order or present condition of things in a very enviable light. We do not quite recollect how many revolutions Madame Calderon witnessed during a residence of a year and a quarter in the capital not orderly and peace- ful revolutions, hut such changes as made the shots fly about in all directions, with little dis- crimination hetween friend and foe, native or stranger, peaceful inhahitant or exalted partisan. Nature alone in her prodigality is faithful to this favored region. There seems much which is amiahle and hospitable in the old Spanish society, and the Indians, though utterly sunk and degraded in their intellectual faculties, seem a gentle race. Yet where God has made such a paradise, we can- not but wish that man were better disposed to cul- tivate and adorn it. What were a golded age without its peace and happiness? Christianity here began to add a new world to her conquests. Yet as we cannot but lament that it was not propa~ated hy other means, and pre- sented in a purer form, and has not produced more of its blessed results, it is but just, it is absolutely incnmbent upon us, to call to mind the hideous and bloody superstition which it erased from the land. The first conversions to Christianity, it must he acknowledged, were rather summary and expe- ditious. Even during the conquest, many of the greater caciques in Tlascala, in Tezeuco, and among the other allies, received haptism. Con- sidering that good father Olmedo was altogether ignorant of the language that all the work of interpretation, in the religious as well as the civil intercourse, was carried on by A~uilar and Donna Marina, with the assistance, at last, of Orteguilla, a young page of Cortes, who acquired some knowledge of the language, the preparatory in- struction must have been tolerably compendious. But. there was one unanswerable argument: the God of the conqueror(we fear that we must write, considering the share that the Virgin and the Saints took in the conquest)the Gods of the white men were the strongest and if the deities of the Indians allowed themselves to be tumbled headlong from their pedestals, it was a sure sign that their reign was over, and a full justification for the desertion of their altars. It would have been vain, perhaps, to have offered to such con- * We have seen some specimens of engravings from Mr. Catherwoods drawings, illustrative of Mr. Stephens work, on a much larger scale, and giving therefore a much better notion of the extraordinary ruins in Mexico and Yucatan. The whole series promises to be of great interest and importance. verts a more pure ~nd spiritual Christianity. There is, however, an exceedingly curious pas- sage in the despatches of Cortes, relating to the propagation ol Christianity, both as characteristic of the conqucror, and as a remarkable testimony to the sentiments of men like Cortes, on the over- grown pride, wealth, and pox~er of the church in Spain. Cortes strongly urges on his master to keep the tenths in the Vnds of the government to prosecute the converJon of the natives by the regular clergy, the monks and friars of the differ- ent orders, who should reside in their own monas- tic communities For if bishops and other prelates are sent, they will follow the custom practised by them for our sins at the present day, by disposing of the estates of tIme church, and expending them in pageants and other foolish matters, and bestowing rights of inheritance on their sons or relatives. A still greater evil would rosult from this state of tImings: the natives of this country formerly had their priests, who were engaged in conducting the rites and ceremonies of their . religion ; and so strict were they in the practice of honesty and chastity, that any deviation therefrom was pun- ished with death; now, if they saw the affairs of the church and what related to the service of God were entrusted to canons and other dignitaries, and if they understood that these were the ministers of God, whom they beheld indulging in vicious habits and profaneness, as is the case in these days in Spain, it would lead thent to undervalue our faith and treat it with derision, and all the preach- ing in the world would mint be able to counteract the mischief arising from this source.De- spatches, p. 426. The blind and obstinate hostility of Fonseca, bishop of Burgos, may no doubt have rankled in the mind of Cortes, and made him look upon the higher churchmen with darkening prejudice ; but Charles V. must have been astonished at receiving from the New World language so strangely in accordance with the loud cry for the reformation of the church in Germany and throughout Europe. So far Cortes and Luther might seem embarked in one cause; yet, as his precautionary advice was not followed, so we trust his vaticinations were at least not completely fulfilled. If there was more than one Las Casas, such prelates might redeem their order, and propagate Christianity in the hearts of the Indians by the stronger persuasion of veneration and love. But we must not pursue this subject. We con- clude with expressing our satisfaction that Mr. Prescott has given us an opportunity at this time of showing our deep sympathy, the sympathy of kindred and of blood, with Americans who, like himself, do honor to our common literature. Mr. Prescott may take his place among the really good English writers of history in modern times; and will be received, we are persuaded, into that small community, with every feeling of friendly and fiat- ternal respect. From Blackwoods Magazine. LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS, ESQ. MEDHURST, 1816. THANKS for your congratulations; and take mine in return, on your having escaped free with life, and, what is more important still, without dis- figurement. Really, to see a man, in these times, go through ten years service untouchedTalave- ra, Busaco, Salamanca, and Waterloo; besides duels, by-skirmishes, and occasional leaps out of windows; might almost make one a believer in The Special Grace, or the Mussulman doctrine of predestination. Your kind papers met me at Falmouth, where I landed, from a pilot-boat, on the 14th, after con- tending thirty hours with such a gale as the very spirit of larceny might have given itself up for lost in. One whole night we had of it, and best part of two days, with top masts struck, top-gallant masts rolled away, hatches battened down, dead- lights shut in, boats gone, spars washed off, (except a few that we lashed across the deck, to avoid being washed off ourselves,) and lower masts groaning, and creaking and straining, as if well inclined, if the hubbub lasted, to make away after their companions. Never was I so frightened before in all my life which I attribute entirely to my having lately become monied. In the onset of the affair, a trifle of a sea took us; beat in all the quarter boards on our weather side; and carried away six water casks, and four pigs, besides the cook-house, the cook in it, and the binnacle. It was night, dark as pitch, and raining. So black, that the man at the helm could not have seen shore if his bowsprit-end had run against it. And then, on a sudden, by the flashes of lightning half a minute longthe whole hopeless, interminable prospect of white foaming water opened before you; with the pigs, and the casks, and the hen-coops, each riding off upon a separate wave as big as West- minster Abbey. Beggary, time out of mind, has been valiant. He must be brave (perforce) who has no breeches; but the holder of exchequer bills hates instinctively to find himself one moment trespassing upon the moonflying upwards to impugn the dog-star, as if out of a swing, nine times as high as the gib- bet Haman was hanged upon; and, the next, to be sunk down into a cursed bottomless black chasm, with the water, on three sides at least of him, above the pitch of his top-gallant yard, the whole bed of sea, in the ordinary course of fluids coming to their level, being to close fifty feet over his head within the next half second. And then, in the midst of the provoking dark- ness, which hides the extent of your danger, and enables you to add just two hundred per cent. to it, arises a vast array of multifarious clatters, to terrify those who dont know their import, and those who do. First, your jeopardy is suggested by the lively rattling of the thunder, the pelting of the I. LIVING AGE. 3 33 rain, and the hoarse roar of the wind in the rigging. Next, you become interested in the rending and shivering of sails, the rocking and squeaking of yards and masts, the choking and hickuping of pumps, and the frequent crashes of something gone ! expecting the next thing that goes to be yourself. The lighter accon~paniments consist- ing, chiefly. in a perpetual rush of boiling water un- der your bow, and the blowing of a score of gram- puses (who are evidently waiting for you) in it; these last performers (doubtless the original tritons) spouting, and committing all kinds of singeries, in their hilarity; obviously esteeming it a mistake of Providence that it should not be a tempest always! A man may be as stout as Hercules, and yet not care to be eaten by cetaceous fishes. Did you never observe that the people who bring themselves to subaqueous terminations in and about London, almost always choose to conclude in something like smooth water l Nursery maids take the New River and the Paddington Canal ;lovers, the Serpentine, and the Bason in Hyde Park; stock-jobbers go to Westminster Bridge and Blackfriars ;whipped school-boys, and desperate prentices, into water butts and fish ponds; but no adventurers (at least I dont recollect any) ever jump off London Bridge, where the flood has an angry, threatening appearance. Man, even where he is to be a slave and a fool, finds a satisfaction in being a slave and a fool in his own way. One gentleman conceits to die in battle; another has a fancy to pass in his bed. Many part by corrosive sublimate and laudanum, who would live on if they were bound to use the knife. There are obstacles to the application of the bare bodkin more than the high-souled Hamlet could descend to think of; and, for myself, if I wero going to be drowned, I confess I should like to meet my fate in quiet water. But here I am, my friend, on shore; every thought of danger (and of water) over; master of myself, ten years of life and youth, and a hundred thousand pounds of fortune that I never hoped for. Your letter is most welcome. For excuses, let them trouble neither of us. A lapse of intercourse is not necessarily a breach of friendship; and, if it were, the act that made the lapse was mine. Man proposes) as somebody says, and God disposes ; few sublunary resolves can stand against the force of circumstances. I took my course seven years sinceat least I think sonot as a man who was without friends, but like a man who wished ~o keep them. When the sheet- anchor could not hold my vessel, it was as well to drive, and keep the kedge on board. Fools try their friends, and lose thempressing on a toy of glass, as though it were a rock of adamant. They forget the very first condition upon which they hold the feeling they are trusting to; void the lease, and yet marvel when the lord enters for breach of covenant. A man must perishthis is an arrangement in naturebefore he can be re LETTER FROM ChARLES EDWARDS, ESQ.

From Blackwoods Magazine. LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS, ESQ. MEDHURST, 1816. THANKS for your congratulations; and take mine in return, on your having escaped free with life, and, what is more important still, without dis- figurement. Really, to see a man, in these times, go through ten years service untouchedTalave- ra, Busaco, Salamanca, and Waterloo; besides duels, by-skirmishes, and occasional leaps out of windows; might almost make one a believer in The Special Grace, or the Mussulman doctrine of predestination. Your kind papers met me at Falmouth, where I landed, from a pilot-boat, on the 14th, after con- tending thirty hours with such a gale as the very spirit of larceny might have given itself up for lost in. One whole night we had of it, and best part of two days, with top masts struck, top-gallant masts rolled away, hatches battened down, dead- lights shut in, boats gone, spars washed off, (except a few that we lashed across the deck, to avoid being washed off ourselves,) and lower masts groaning, and creaking and straining, as if well inclined, if the hubbub lasted, to make away after their companions. Never was I so frightened before in all my life which I attribute entirely to my having lately become monied. In the onset of the affair, a trifle of a sea took us; beat in all the quarter boards on our weather side; and carried away six water casks, and four pigs, besides the cook-house, the cook in it, and the binnacle. It was night, dark as pitch, and raining. So black, that the man at the helm could not have seen shore if his bowsprit-end had run against it. And then, on a sudden, by the flashes of lightning half a minute longthe whole hopeless, interminable prospect of white foaming water opened before you; with the pigs, and the casks, and the hen-coops, each riding off upon a separate wave as big as West- minster Abbey. Beggary, time out of mind, has been valiant. He must be brave (perforce) who has no breeches; but the holder of exchequer bills hates instinctively to find himself one moment trespassing upon the moonflying upwards to impugn the dog-star, as if out of a swing, nine times as high as the gib- bet Haman was hanged upon; and, the next, to be sunk down into a cursed bottomless black chasm, with the water, on three sides at least of him, above the pitch of his top-gallant yard, the whole bed of sea, in the ordinary course of fluids coming to their level, being to close fifty feet over his head within the next half second. And then, in the midst of the provoking dark- ness, which hides the extent of your danger, and enables you to add just two hundred per cent. to it, arises a vast array of multifarious clatters, to terrify those who dont know their import, and those who do. First, your jeopardy is suggested by the lively rattling of the thunder, the pelting of the I. LIVING AGE. 3 33 rain, and the hoarse roar of the wind in the rigging. Next, you become interested in the rending and shivering of sails, the rocking and squeaking of yards and masts, the choking and hickuping of pumps, and the frequent crashes of something gone ! expecting the next thing that goes to be yourself. The lighter accon~paniments consist- ing, chiefly. in a perpetual rush of boiling water un- der your bow, and the blowing of a score of gram- puses (who are evidently waiting for you) in it; these last performers (doubtless the original tritons) spouting, and committing all kinds of singeries, in their hilarity; obviously esteeming it a mistake of Providence that it should not be a tempest always! A man may be as stout as Hercules, and yet not care to be eaten by cetaceous fishes. Did you never observe that the people who bring themselves to subaqueous terminations in and about London, almost always choose to conclude in something like smooth water l Nursery maids take the New River and the Paddington Canal ;lovers, the Serpentine, and the Bason in Hyde Park; stock-jobbers go to Westminster Bridge and Blackfriars ;whipped school-boys, and desperate prentices, into water butts and fish ponds; but no adventurers (at least I dont recollect any) ever jump off London Bridge, where the flood has an angry, threatening appearance. Man, even where he is to be a slave and a fool, finds a satisfaction in being a slave and a fool in his own way. One gentleman conceits to die in battle; another has a fancy to pass in his bed. Many part by corrosive sublimate and laudanum, who would live on if they were bound to use the knife. There are obstacles to the application of the bare bodkin more than the high-souled Hamlet could descend to think of; and, for myself, if I wero going to be drowned, I confess I should like to meet my fate in quiet water. But here I am, my friend, on shore; every thought of danger (and of water) over; master of myself, ten years of life and youth, and a hundred thousand pounds of fortune that I never hoped for. Your letter is most welcome. For excuses, let them trouble neither of us. A lapse of intercourse is not necessarily a breach of friendship; and, if it were, the act that made the lapse was mine. Man proposes) as somebody says, and God disposes ; few sublunary resolves can stand against the force of circumstances. I took my course seven years sinceat least I think sonot as a man who was without friends, but like a man who wished ~o keep them. When the sheet- anchor could not hold my vessel, it was as well to drive, and keep the kedge on board. Fools try their friends, and lose thempressing on a toy of glass, as though it were a rock of adamant. They forget the very first condition upon which they hold the feeling they are trusting to; void the lease, and yet marvel when the lord enters for breach of covenant. A man must perishthis is an arrangement in naturebefore he can be re LETTER FROM ChARLES EDWARDS, ESQ. 34 gretted. The tragic poet dares not, for all Par- nassus, save his hero in the last scene. You are mistaken, and you do me injustice, when you say, that I had no friend (at the time you refer to) but yourself. I tell you, that at the very moment when, upon deliberation, I took service as a private soldieran act of which I am more proud than of any I ever performed in my whole life at that very moment I had a letter in my hand from a womanGod bless her! She was the widow of an officer whom I had once served, and she suspected my couditionentreating me, in terms which I can never forget, though I will not quote them, to share her means (and they were slight ones) till my embarrassments were over. If friendship could have helped me, Heaven knows! here it was in its most agreeal)le form. But there is a principle uif reaction, among the first ordinan- ces of nature, which makes it impossible to profit by such an offer. It seemed a jewel, the thing that was held out to me; but, had I grasped, it would have turned to ashes in my hand. I was famishing, and cool water stood at my lips; but it would have fled and mocked me, had I sought to taste it. [lore lies no failure ; for, on the point, there is no power in the will of the proposing individual; the obstacle, which is insurmountable, is a parcel of the very system under which we breathe. The precise qualities which procure a man offers of assistance, are those (nine times in ten) he would sacrifice by accepting it. Few people will give away, even their money, to a crouching cowarda dependanta hanger-on; and yet what else than these can he be who con- sents to live upon the bounty of another l The romantic generosity of Mrs. s character was excited by what she took to be a corresponding principle of chivalry in mine. She would have saved a man, (she guessed from death,) whom certain qualities, which she liked, went to endan- ger; and forgot to think of the folly which had brought him into peril, in surprise at the uushrink- ing obduracy with which lie stood to meet it. Why, you see, a mans very vanity, in a situation like this, leaves him no choice but to be cut up and (levoured. From the moment that I listened to a thought of safety, I ceased to be the hero that the lady took me for. I should have been absolutely an impostor if I had accepted her offer ; for, the very instant that I even paused upon it, it became the property of somebody else. You must be burnedthere is no help for itif you wish to be a martyr. You must die (though it is unpleasant) before your name can be emblazoned on your tomb. I desire to wrong no mans feeling; but the course you complain of is the course which I should take again. Assistance from friendship is always bought dearly, and turns out generally to be mood lbr nothing when you have it. You part, in a sad state of the market, with, perhaps, a good charac- Icr; and, after the bargain is concluded, find that you have got in payment a badehilling. LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS, ESQ. But a truce to past troubles, unle~s it he to laugh at them. Did I not tell you, even when I was fall- ingdid I not tell you that I should rise again l It is but yesterday that I stood in the world alone, without rank, reckoning, or respect; that I was a nameless creature, without rights, without posses- sions, without even personal libq~ty; and to-day, I, the same Charles Edwards helped by no manthanking noneI breathe my horse on ground that is mine own, and am a lord and a gentleman of worship! I went forth as a sold and purchased slave; and, Mameluke like, I have returned as a chief and a conqueror. Charles Edwai~ds( rogue Wellborn! ) Lord of the manor of Medhurst! and the lanceprisade bath two bankers ;the rough-rider knows when it shall be quarter-day ! Yesterday my estate was an empty stomach, and Chelsea was my inheritance! and to-day, there is a gentleman who cannot stand straight in my presence, shows the rentroll of my landed property ; and talks of rents, farms, feoffments, fisheries, waifs, strays, and commonable rights ! Come to me, if possible, for I am full of busi- ness; and my head might be in a better condition for transacting it. People who inherit fortunes from their fathers, never guess even at the real advantages of wealth. You never got a true feel- ing of the deliciousness of having moneyno, not even from seeing half your acquaintances go with- out it. But, for me! I am just bursting as from darkness into the broad blaze of sunshinefrom bondage into freedom uncontrolledfrom childish helplessness, into the strength and power of a giant! My quarrel always with life was, that a man could not work his way into a house in Gros- venor Square, until a iiarrower house might serve his desires, and be more than sufficient for his ne- cessities. There was no path by which a man could make a fortune to himself, and sit down to dissipate it in profusion, even at thirty. I had a thought once of going to the barI scarcely know how or why. But, when I peeped into a court of law, and saw the bare results of years of puzzle- ment the damned Hebrew, or parebment as thick as a board, what was the net product of eyes poured out, and brains distracted! and the Chancellor himself, the enfant gati~ of forensic for- tunesuffering arguments, and reconciling ab- surdities, for eight or ten hours every dayeven if he got off for that I found myself, (with the power of locomotion, and two shirts,) incompara- bly the richer man of the two ! his lordship had the peerage ; but I could walk i the sweet air. He held the seat of honor; but I was at liberty to depart the court. Like the Frenchman in Montaignes tale, who had his choice to be hanged or marrmed, I cried, Drive on the cart it was cheaper to starve than, (on such terms,) to earn the money! But nowwhen I have the money, Robertand have it s only it becomes worth havingwithout the earning when I have it LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS~ ESQ. honorably too, and conscientiouslyin my own undoubted right! no kidnapped prodigy of ninety to break in upon my graceful leisure, with fables of cajolement, plunder, and desertion! no heiress wife, even though young and beautiful, made bold by an unreasonable settlement, to hint that my extravagances, or infidelities, are committed, in all senses, at her cost !the luxurythe splendor the free agencythat all my life I have been thirst- ing for, are mine! Not a wild scbeme that I have dreamed of but takes a local habitation,~ and a show of accomplishment! Not a light wish but now seems feasible, fittingonly unpossessed, because I may possess it when I will. How many a woman have I adoredand fled from lest I might make her estate as desperate as my own! How many a man, whom I could have trampled, have J suffered to insult over me, when those I loved might have been injured by my tri- i~mph! I was prudent, and forbearing, and hum- ble, where the tempers of some would have given way. I was modest, and shunned collision, where I felt myself the weaker vessel. I did not care even to be fought with, where the contest would have been felt a matter of hardship by my antago- nist. I abode my time in suffering and in silencebut that time is come at last! and what I owe in the world, both of good and ill, please Heaven! shall now be paid to the utmost farthing. If it was sport while the poor bear was chained, the scene may change now he has broke free. I have never complained of the abuse of strength by others; let none complain of its reasonable exercise by me. I will ask no account for what has been done in the past, but the right shall be mine to do now for the future. I will seek for no combat with any man alive; but it shall go hard, if, with some, I have not the benefit of a victory. And this seems very heroical, all of it, and very foolish, when I meant to be in the best humor in the world. But the fact is, I have had a touch or two of the piquant heremy recollection just a little stirred upsince my arrival. I came to England, prepared to be plcased at all points. Home shows delightfully, to the imagination at least, after six years absence. And then there was the white bread in the hotels of Falmouth, and its blue-eyed Saxon beautiesand the incom- parable fresh butterand the cream !I felt my heart cleave to my country the moment I sat down to breakfast. So I saddled at once, finding my cavalry sam et serif, (which I had shipped from Figuera a week before me,) and rode at a round rate through Cornwall, Devonshire, and Somerset, purposing, as greatness was thrust upon me, to lose no time in taking possession of it; but, wben I got to Bath, an idea struck meit was for tbe first timethat Sir Walter Beauvoir (my grandfathers executor)that it might not be pleasant, under all existing circumstances, for me to have to introduce myself to the worthy baronet. We had not been always strangers, in times past, the Beauvoir family and your very devoted servant; and there had been a cessation of usual attention to him, at a certain time when perhaps he was not acting so cautiously as he might have done. Whether I distrusted my own merits, or their friendship, I wrote,~ a formal letter of announcement, covered all over with family arms and black wax, and sent it forward by a courier, addressed to Sir Walter; which done, I again put on, with as much speed as I could muster, wish- ing to get a peep, if possible, at my property, without being recognized as the owner of it. I got to Medhurst before my messenger; but found myself already cried at the very Market- cross! I had been hatching devices all the way, to know what people thought about me. I might have spared myself the pains. Most of my grand- fathers tenants bold beneficial leases; and their prophetic souls were on the qui vive. My listing for a horse soldier, and going off with the Majors lady the whole history was afield, with additions, alterations, and exaggerations. I sent for a hair-dresser, and had it all (without ask- ing) in five minutes. My fathers unreasonable postponement gave some offence; my most-to-be- lamented succession still more. I was to make a seraglin of the nianor-house in a fortnight; and to get rid of the last acre in a year. Next day, I seat my own servant to Beauvoir, with a note, setting forth my arrival, and request- ing an interview. Signor Jos6 wore his foreign livery, and red Montero cap; and departed, upon a very curious Spanish horse, that I have brought over with me, with half the population of Medhurst at his heels. In truth, the horseyou shall see him when we meetwas a mon/nrc fit for Murat in person! No whipped and curbed-np restive English jade, that you thrust spurs into, and, when he flinches, call it spirit; hut a beast that will eat of his masters bread, and drink of his cup; never felt a spur in all his life, and knows switches and halters only by report. On my affirmation (my attorney shall make affidavit of it)he is the very steedthe real Rabicansung of by Ariostowho cheats the sand of his shadow, and on the snow leaves no marks of his footsteps who was be- gotten of the flame, and of the wind !who might pace dry-shod upon the sea; make his trottoir of a zephyr; and for speed I forget the rest of the poetry; hut I know I bought the animal when he was a colt, and have pampered him ever since, till he is as fleet as a roebuck, and as fierce, in any hands but my own, as a three-days-taken tiger. And noon brought this inestimable quadruped back, with an answer to my letter, and with so many clowns in admiration of his curvetting, that I was fain to command the locking of his stable door. Sir Walters communication was less offensive than I had expected; but my mind was made up as to how I should proceed. Fight always at once, LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS~ ESQ. if possible, where you desire to be quietyou are sure of peace, after men know that there is nothing to he got by going to war with you. These Beau- voirs are of your gens de coterieyour people of the real caste and tone(that is, your people who, singly, would be hunted down as owls and bedlamites; but who, as a set, have managed to make their joint-stock impudence im- posing.) I suspected the reception that I should meet from them; and I waited upon good Sir Walter without my scabbard. There is a recipe in some old book How to avoid being tossed by a mad hull. And the instruction given is Toss him ! Try the experiment upon the first coxcomb who fancies that you are his inferior ; charge first, and give him to understand roundly that you fancy he is yours. Be coldly supercilious with all important caitiffs, and most punctual be your attention to the matter in debate; but let no temptation prevail with you to touch on any earthly point beyond it. In business all men are equal. The casting of an account knows no dis- tinction of persons. But remember, that he (who- ever he is) stands a babbler, convict, who utters one word except to state the sum total of it. Get an observation about the weather, you reply with some Thirteen and ninepence ! and your inter- locutor is dead. A syllable de trop will enable you to decline general communication, where no approach to such a state was ever intended. Poor Sir Walter came down, loaded to the very muzzle, to repress familiarity on my part; but I found him guilty of familiarity himself, and made him bear the penalty of it, before six sentences had been exchanged between us. The late gales there was no Happy to see me at Beauvoir! The late gales had rendered my passage from the continent difficult B It had not been pleasant. This came after we were seated ; and after a salutation such as might pass between the automaton chess-player and the ghost in Don Juan. I had received letters, of course, from Mr. Dupuis ~ At Fignera, to the 30th nIt. Followed by a long pause, which I did not move to interrupt. Mr. Dupuis is my agent and attorney. The late Mr. Charlton Edwards,in a tone of condescension this and dignified feeling, which made me think that the Lord had delivered the speaker into my hands The late Mr. Charlton Edwards, I was perhaps aware, he (Sir W. B.) had much respected l (I was aware, Robert, that it was very inconvenient for a gentleman to speak, and not to be answered; but, as this obser- vation needed no reply, I made none, except a look of polite surprise.) That sentiment alone here a little hesi- tation, occasioned by my omitting such an oppor- tunity to protest that sentiment alone had in- duced him to take upon himself the somewhat laborious duty of an executor. There was a legacy of five hundred pounds attached to the office; but, (this was the coup that was to annihilate me) thatremembrancehe should desire to be ex- cused from accepting. As six cards at least more, in the potential way, were coming, I trumped the suit at once. In that case, the sum would pass to any charity which he (Sir Walter) might be disposed to favor; and I would endeavor to add something which should be worthy to accompany so munificent a donation.This reply, not even pointed with contempt at his thinking to overwhelm me by giving up five hundred pounds that I knew he did not want(had it been ten thousand, with all the family consequence, I had trembled for my patri- mony)this reply, given without the movement of a single muscle, carried us straight to reading the will ; during which operation, the Baronets temper was once or twice nearly overcome by the irreverent neighing of my Spanish steeds, who challenged all comers, from under the window. We did get through, howevertemper, gravity, and alland, Mr. iDupuis being summoned, Sir Walter and I formally took leave of each other ; I, on my part tolerably well satisfied that I had waived no dignity in our brief conference, but a little surprised why a man, who certainly disliked me, should have chosen to act as my executor; and he, as I thought, somewhat disconcerted (though I never guessed with what abundant cause) at the seeming change in my humor, and habits of acting and thinking. My grandfather has left me every thing; and (with all his eccentricities he had spirit and taste,) his last order was, that Monckton Manor should be kept, to my arrival, just as he himself had lived in it. It would be nonsense to talk of feeling any deep regret for the death of a man whom I scarce- ly ever saw; butI am not quite ungrateful if half his money would bring him to life again, be should have it. As the case stands, however, I get a diamond, you see, not only ready polished, but ready set to my hand, and had nothing to do when I arrived here, but walk straight into the well ordered mansion of my forefathersfrom the which imagine me writing, just now, to bid you welcome! So despotic, that not a mouse, if I list be silent, dare raise hts voice within three stories of me! Conceive me, sole master, and dis- posing of all, in the very last house of all the world, in which I ever looked to dispose of any thing. Sitting in a small room, more stocked with roses than with books, which takes rank as The Library. Before a buhl-table, at a long narrow Gothic windowpeople did not care for too much light, even before there was a tax upon itreally extant, I believe, (the window,) since the days of Henry the VII. My great grandfather, I know, traced it back to Rufus, and had his doubts if it might not have been carried up to the Conqueror. With a great deal of nicknack furniture, and some good Flemish pictures; a most unnecessary list of LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS~ ESQ. servants, and an incomparable cellar of ~vine, to amuse me within; and, withouta strange, ir- regular, semi-barbarous kind of prospect to look at,almost grotesque, but not unpleasingbe- tween the remote, and the immediate. Beyond my ring fence, a branch of the Wyea real steeple (the church of Medhurst)the village inn, with a rising sun (for a sign) that might warm all Lapland through a three months winterand abundance, generally, of heath, and rivulet, and hill, and copse, and forest, part of mine own, and part belonging to the demesne of Beauvoir. More at home, a great multiplication of flower- gardens, kitchen-gardens, and nurseries, shrub- beries, zig-zag walks, and fish-ponds, with duck islands in the middle of them. The view total supplying a sort of index to the various tastes of the twelve last incumbents on the property; each of whom thought it a pity to undo any trifle that had been done by his predecessor; and all had such a horror of either rebuilding, or radical alter- ation, that a surveyor, caught even making a sketch upon the estate, would have found no more quarter from them than a beast of prey. For my own part, I rather agree, I confess, in this opinion about the surveyor. I think, in strictness, he belongs to that class of artistsas the attorneythe house-painteror the under- takerin whose very callings there is something that men shudder at the recollection of. Certain- ly, if I were in trade myself, I would be a wine- merchant, or a confectioner, or of some craft, so that people should be able to look me in the face without abhorrence; and, for the present at least, I shall so far affirm my ancestral piety, as to let Monckton remain with all its inconveniences. But you lost much, I assure you, thatnot meeting me on the coastyou missed the solemnity of my taking possession. The joyful tidings of the new lords~ arri- val had been promulgated as soon as I reached Beauvoir Castle; and, in the hall of that edifice, (on leaving it,) I found my steward, attended by a couple of keepers, waiting to pay his duty. I mounted my grey horse, who had collected all the domestics of Sir Walters stable department in criticism round him; and the unearthly immova- bleness which I preserved of feature, joined to a few words of Spanish, in which I now and then spoke to Jos6, seemed to root the very thought of my ever having been an offending Adam out of mens minds. As I rode through the village, at- tetded, the landlord of the Rising Sun stood, in devotion, to bow to me. His wife and daughters were forthcoming too in their best clothes; and there was my barber, boXing as though he wished, for once, he had been less communicative; al- though, as he told me afterwards, by way of ex- cuse, he had only said what every body else said. So we moved forwardthe bells ringing for my happy return. I, in the front, with Mr. Poundage a little to the rear on one side, and Mr. 3z Dupums, wishing to be familiar, but not quite know- ing how to compass it, on the other; Jos6 behind, and the two keepers taking long shots, (in the way of comprehension,) at minis English; and the folks of the village taking off their hats as we passedto the whole of which I returned a grave courtesy; but as though it d~turbed my own re- flections, rather than othcrwisb. I shall bc in the commission of the peace, Rob- ert, within these six months, and set people in the stocks! The five hundred pound legacy goes to repair the church, as the joint gift of Sir Wal- ter Beauvoir and mysclf. The parish-officers have already waited upon me in procession! I shall have a tablet put up for me of marble, and a vile verse inscribed on it in Latinand Charles Ed- wards, Esq. gaveso muchto beautify, Anno MDCCCXVI.with an objit when I die, and a notice who was church-warden when I was buried. On my arrival at Home, every thingthe short notice consideredwas creditable to my friend Poundages taste. People, all very alarmed and anxious, as beseems those who have to get their own livelihood. At the lodge-gate I found my porter in deep black, and reverence, deep- er still. My gardeners were scattered at differ- ent points about the grounds, that I might not, by any accident, go too far without having worship paid me. Before the grand entrance, (to which Mr. Poundage rode forward, with a bow for per- mission,) stood my serving-men, in full livery. My housekeeper, fat and oppressive, as an ancient lady ought to be, ready to welcome me. Half a dozen of my chief tenants, all in mourning (for the beneficial leases ;) my maid servants peep- ing here and there, round corners, and out of up- per windows. And then, MoIMyselfLe Grand Homme vient !Dont you see me, Bob Iin my long dark pelisse, able to stand alone with lace and embroideryupon my grey horse, full sixteen hands high, with his massy furniture, foreign sad- dle, holsters, pistols, & c., all complete. The whole cavalcade an extremely well got up and im- posing affair, I assure you; and one which would have led me to think most puissantly of the chief personage concerned in it, if I had not (on certain previous occasions) enjoyed the advantage of his acquaintance. My location completed, domestic duties com- menced; and I could nt find in my heart (though I shall economize) to discharge any of my people. Audience to Mrs. Glasse Forty years in the family ! Hoped my Honors breakfast had given my Honor satisfaction. She must die, I suppose, at Monckton, and be buried at my cost. Audience to my stewardat breakfastand told him I was satisfied with his way of doing things. He had a desire, I saw, to fall at my feet, but doubted whether it might not be taken as a liberty. Visit from Mr. Dupuis ;thought he seemed rather a scoundrel, and went through aU LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS, ESQ. his accounts at one sitting !Cost me seven hours, but completely took down the gentlemans import- ance. Concluded by making him commit several valuable documents to my own iron chest; and ordered his bill (~xvinced hed never live to make it out) for the morning of the 27th. iDay following, full of business. Opened letters from all the tradesmen within ten miles, craving orders. Before dinner, made a progress through my whole estate, and went through the cere- monies (legal) of taking possession. Rode my grey horse again, who neighed furiously, bring- ing every body out of doors at every fresh house or stable he caine near. Going homeall the people about quite deafened with this outery, met one of the junior Beauvoirs, on horsebaek, in a lane; at the sight of whom, le dit Rabican gave such a ferocious neigh, rearing and plunging at the same time, as if for battle, that the Captains hunter bolted into the hedge, and had nearly over- thrown him. I moved slightly, looking at Dupuis who was riding in great bodily fear, as far as he might from meand the compliment was (quite as slightly) returned. I~1ut I had a hold all this while (of which I knew nothing) upon the heart of the Beauvoir family; and it procured me the unhoped-for honor of a visit from Sir Walter, almost before I became aware of its existence. Dupuis let me into the fact firstas a last card against bringing in his bill, and giving up his agency. It was the borough of Medhurst, it seems, that formed the grand link between my late grandfather and the people at the eastle. He always gave up the parliamentary interests; but our property is suspected of carrying a major- ity. Major Beauvoir sits for Medhurst; Sir Wal- ter is one of the members for the county. I was to have been played upon by these good folks as they pleased, and slighted as they pleased into the bargain. But my business-like movements have struck them with alarm. A general election ap- proaches, and, though they are rich, they must not lose Medhurst. I am a beast, instead of (what they hoped to find me) a fool; but my beneficial leases are dangerous. And sothough the Beauvoirs are select down came Sir Walter, to trim between his pride and his necessity. It was really pitiful to see the poor old buzzard, who, you know, is high and mighty, compelled to communicate with a wretch, who would have no notion of any bodys being high and mighty at all. First, he had a sort of hope left that I was an ass, and that he might cheat me out of what he wanted, instead of purchasing it. Then, got out of pa- tience at my obstinate formality; but still was sure that any direct overture towards intimacy from him, would remove it. At last, in the midst of the creatures doubt whether he would be friends, he suddenly happened to doubt whether I would; on which the quibbling was dropped in alarm, and nothing thought of but carrying the point. And so, two hours after Mr. Dupuis had told me this long election story, in confidence,a confidence to which I just trusted so far, as not to give hini the slightest hint how I meant to act upon it in returnthough I was a rough rider, and had a horse that neighed, I receive~ a morning call from Sir Walter, which ended (sorely against his will) in an invitation to dine at Beauvoir Castle. If I could make head a~ainst the world when I was naked and pennyless, I can hardly fear to do so now. You know me, and know how I value the opinion of such people as these; but they are still members of a party, that in some way or other must be dealt with. I shall have to light my passage, against something perhaps of prejudice, into certain circles to which a man of fortune should have admission. As the first goose might cackle, ten to one the whole flock would follow. This Beauvoir bidding was an opportunity to be- gin the struggle with advantage. I rode to the castle on horseback, (this took place yesterday,) and arrived as nearly as possible at the last moment; having declined using one of Sir Walters carriages, until my own could be put in order. From the very entry of the ave- nue, I saw what was to be my receptionthe evening was tempting, but the windows and bal- conies were deserted. The having me was evidently an infliction.I 11 try if I cant teach some of the family what infliction is. Dinner was instantaneous(as I had hoped) so sparing me an inconvenient preliminary ten minutes in the drawing-room. The party quite private, in order that the open avowal of me might still be got rid of, if possible. We had Sir Wal- ter, pompous, but rather fidgety. We had Lady B., well-bred enough, and not very ill-natured. The two Misses Beauvoirs, looking most determi- nately nothing less than nobility approaches Kitty !. Major B., the gentleman who sits ; Captain B., the gentleman whom I nearly over- threw; the gouvernante of the young ladies; and the parson of the parish. This was the bore party.evidently pre- meditated; every thing was conducted in a con- catenation, as Goldsmith has it, accordingly. I was meanttransparentlyto be a lost mon- ster within the first five minutes; and yet I never enjoyed an entertainment so much, I think, in my life. It is so delicious a role to playand, withal, so easywhen a man is desirous only of being disagreeable! And when I reflected that these lunatic creatures, who really stood personally with- in the scope of my dangerthese splacknucks, into whose house I would have hired myself as their footman, and, in twelve months, have ruled it as their lordthat they, who were absolutely suitors to me for a boon, and over my prospects, or possessions, could have no breath of influence that they should be so mad as to desire to dis- tress me, and hope by exhibiting a fexv common grimaces to succeed !the thing, so far from 38 LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS~ ESQ. 39 supplying a cause of annoyance, was, as you must perceive, unboundedly jocose and entertain- ing. We had the stale farce of silent hauteur ~)layed off; and a few more modern airs in the peculiari- ties of eating and drinking. The Misses B. were prodigious in the arrangements of their salad. The Captainhe is of the Guards ate fish with his fingers. But, for the ton, I had carte blanche, as being a foreigner; and, for the silence, you dont very easily awe any man where he feels that circumstances make him your master. I talked, if no one else did; and he who talks pre- pease, may even talk with safety. With Sir Walter Beauvoir, I spoke of property and interests, in a way that made him very anxiously attend to me. The Captain I addressed once, (in reply,) and that in a tone just more steady, the twentieth part of a note, than I had been using with his fathera word more, and I would have apolo- gized for his ill horsemanship on the preceding day. The Misses Beauvoir I took wine with, and would not see that they were fair and inexorabh~. rro Lady B. I ventured a few words, just to show that I could behave decently, if it was my cue to do so. But it was with the Majorthe member for Medhurst(that has been)the gentleman for whose immediate convenience my presence was submitted to; it was with him that my high for- tune lay; and the gain was greater than I could have even hoped for. The Major, I believe, is a person that you have no acquaintance with 1~I knew something of him, and disliked him, when we both were lads. He had thenallowing for my prejudicesthe quali- ties which compose a brute; hut has now acquired cunning enough, in some degree, to conceal them. his early familiarities were with watch-houses; his exploits, the beating of hackney-coachmen, and dandy linen-drapers at Vauxhall. You may recollect the fact, perhaps, of his exchanging out of the Fusileers, at Cheltenham, for having put a tailor (who asked for money, I believe) into the fire I The man either was troublesome, or his creditors wanted amusement; but he was ordered, I know, to come for payment to a house at which three or four gentlemen were dining; the whole party then made a very facetious assault upon him, in conse- quence of which Ensign B had to quit his regiment; and the relatives of the other offenders paid near two thousand pounds to avoid the dis- grace of the matter coming into court. Those times are over. Men grow more prudent, if not more honest, as they increase in age. And my friend the Majors rank and associations have made him a man of fashion; but still he is one of those men, whom, at first sight, you would dislike. There are a description of persons, as we all find out sometimes, whom you can hardly meet, even in the stage-coach, without looking for a quarrel with them. The slightest degree of intercourse seems to make the event quite certain; and, feel- ing that, you desperately think that the sooner it happens, and is over, the better. I remember once sitting in the same coffee-room with a man whose deportment absolutely fascinated me. Not a word had passed between us; and yet I felt that I must either instantly insult him, or ~ave the apartment. Major Beauvoirs manner yesterday, at our re-in- troduction, was a curious illustration of the ungov- ernableness of this particular faculty: it was de- cidedly repelling, (though Aot sufficiently s~ to call for notice,) while, from what followed, I have no doubt that it was meant to be conciliatory. For he has the infirmity upon him, (this gentle- man,) among others, of being easily affected by wine; and the spirit of play, which also constantly attends him, had caught a scent of my ready money. The exposure that followed was good enough to have been bought by encouragement; but his monstrous folly made even encouragement unnecessary. A wild extravagance keeps him constantly poor; and he has not brains enough to make him timid; for, take successful speculators, with the odds ten to one against them generally, and you will find them coarse-minded, obtuse men acute intellect would see too clearly the chance of overthrow. In spite of all Sir Walters exer- tion, after the first eight glasses, my mere listen- ing became sufficient to draw him out. First, he adverted to the circumstance of our former ac- quaintance, and drew on valiantly, though I made him pull me all the way. Then we talked of the countryof horses (his and my own) and hunting my share in the discussion going little beyond monosyllables. From thence it caine to arrange- ments for town, (whither the Major himself was forthwith returning;) and clubsmar4ie~ bets introductionsall the circumstances i currency which I wanted, (the command of,) I was enabled politely, but without the slightest acknowledgment, to decline. At length I rose to take my leave, accompanied to the last possible moment of con- versation by Sir Walter, who saw his sons failure with obvious horror, although the ingenious gentle- man himself never suspected it. We descended the great staircase, with solemn deprecation on my part, and immense, though not very happily man- aged, conciliation on his. But just as the august personage was expressing his hope, under great ardent suffering, that he should early have the pleasure to see me again at Beauvoir Castle, when perhaps something might be suggested, with re- spect to certain political arrangements, which might operate to the mutual conveniences, and, indeed, advantage, of both our familiesjust as he got to this point, we reached the lower hall, and my grey horse, who was in waiting, uttered a most extra hyisna-like, and demoniacal neigh. This strange interruption (which was produced, I believe, by the hearing my voice)and at such a juncture too !disconcerted him completely. He stoppedgulpedrecollected himselfdoubted 40 LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS1 ESQ. whether to piece his discourse, or begin over again. In the end, the poor Baronet stammered out a parting compliment, even worse turned than that which Monsieur Rabican had broken in upon; and I returned home a personage decidedly more hateful to the Beauvoir family than ever, hut com- pletely relieved from all anxiety about my recep- tionas a potentate of the vicinityin future; and as an object of detestation with the worthy folks, you know, of necessity, an object, if not of terror, of respect. This, I think, is as it should be. I amflted by these people, and will be farther so: and, when they have gone through the abomination of getting my interest, they shall find that they have lost it. But that they are clumsy impostors, and deserve no such lenity, I could end their anxiety in a word; for, if I really have a majority in the borough, I think I shall sit for it myself. You laughbut I cant come back to the army, after six years deser- tion, to face your Waterloo reputation upon a lady-peace establishment. And a scat in Par- liament gives a man a semblance of pursuits in life, which (where no trouble attaches) is con- venient. You will come over to my election, (if I find I can command the place,) and help to eat the bad dinners, and kiss the peoples wives. Drop no word, however, I charge you, in the interim; because I must bamboozle these cockscotnbs, who meant to bamboozle me. The hook is in their mouths, and I shall be able to keep them on, with- out giving either a reasonable expectation. The moment they ask my decision, I shall give it against them; and yet, before then, I will have gained all they sought to withhold from me. This is not a world, Robert, in which a man can live by the use of candor, or of liberal principle; and he who is wise will fall into its spirit, and acquire a taste for hollow-heartedness and selfish feeling. To have ones opinions always flying out against those of every body elseones heart pin- ned upon ones sleeveis it not to fight too much at a disadvantage And may there not be some whim in shaking hands with a man very cordially, when you know he means to do you a mortal injury, and when you have digged a countermine, (in the way of surprise,) which, in five minutes, is to blow him to the moon When I was poor, who ever behaved even fairly to me And is it not monstrous vanity to expect that I now should behave disinterestedly to those I love not Farewell till we meet, which I hope will not be many days; but I must (with the kind aid of Sir W. Beauvoir) stamp my credit in the right way, before I goherein Glostershire. I have got a touch, you see, of the true moneyed feeling already letting policy detain me in one place, when inclination would carry me to another. Fare you well once more, until we shake hands; which, with you, I would not do, unless I did it honestly. I shall be in town, I believe, by the 28th; and a lieutenant-colonel, I am sure, can leave a regiment at any time. As a proof that (for my part) we are still upon the same terms tlat we used to beask your father if he will present me. I could make old Sir Walter here, I have no doubt, submit to the duty, (and, in case I go to the continent, it may be convenient to me to get this done;) but I wo~tmld not have him able to say that I ever hoaxed him out of any politeness worth a moments consideration. Be- sides, I know enough of your father, to believe that he will feel no hesitation in obliging me ; -and I write to show you that I can ask a favor from a friend, when it is such a favor as may be conferred by one gentleman upon another. TO M OH, ask me not how long thy gentle love Hath dwelt on me; I only know t is long enough to prove Thy constancy. I cannot pause to number months, or days, I know alone, If to be faithful be Loves highest praise, Thou wearst the Grown. Oh, thou hast loved me long enough to show Thou canst not range; And long enough to bid experience know How others change. Oh, long enough for the upbraiding thought, That neer till now I prized thy loves rich treasure, as I ought, My all below. Yes, I have seen full many a dream depart With faithless speed; And some, who should have gently used my heart, Have made it bleed. And I have rued Affections broken vow, And felt the chill Of Friendships alterd eyebut, dearest, thou Art faithful still. ENtGMA. SIR Hilary charged at Agincourt, Sooth! t was an awful day? And though, in that old age of sport, The ruffiers of the camp and court Had little time to pray, T is said Sir Hilary muttered there Two syllables by way of prayer. My first to all the brave and proud Who see tomorrows sun My next, with her cold and quiet cloud1 To those who find their dewy shroud, Before to-days he done! And both together to all blue eyes That weep when a warrior nobly dies?

40 LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS1 ESQ. whether to piece his discourse, or begin over again. In the end, the poor Baronet stammered out a parting compliment, even worse turned than that which Monsieur Rabican had broken in upon; and I returned home a personage decidedly more hateful to the Beauvoir family than ever, hut com- pletely relieved from all anxiety about my recep- tionas a potentate of the vicinityin future; and as an object of detestation with the worthy folks, you know, of necessity, an object, if not of terror, of respect. This, I think, is as it should be. I amflted by these people, and will be farther so: and, when they have gone through the abomination of getting my interest, they shall find that they have lost it. But that they are clumsy impostors, and deserve no such lenity, I could end their anxiety in a word; for, if I really have a majority in the borough, I think I shall sit for it myself. You laughbut I cant come back to the army, after six years deser- tion, to face your Waterloo reputation upon a lady-peace establishment. And a scat in Par- liament gives a man a semblance of pursuits in life, which (where no trouble attaches) is con- venient. You will come over to my election, (if I find I can command the place,) and help to eat the bad dinners, and kiss the peoples wives. Drop no word, however, I charge you, in the interim; because I must bamboozle these cockscotnbs, who meant to bamboozle me. The hook is in their mouths, and I shall be able to keep them on, with- out giving either a reasonable expectation. The moment they ask my decision, I shall give it against them; and yet, before then, I will have gained all they sought to withhold from me. This is not a world, Robert, in which a man can live by the use of candor, or of liberal principle; and he who is wise will fall into its spirit, and acquire a taste for hollow-heartedness and selfish feeling. To have ones opinions always flying out against those of every body elseones heart pin- ned upon ones sleeveis it not to fight too much at a disadvantage And may there not be some whim in shaking hands with a man very cordially, when you know he means to do you a mortal injury, and when you have digged a countermine, (in the way of surprise,) which, in five minutes, is to blow him to the moon When I was poor, who ever behaved even fairly to me And is it not monstrous vanity to expect that I now should behave disinterestedly to those I love not Farewell till we meet, which I hope will not be many days; but I must (with the kind aid of Sir W. Beauvoir) stamp my credit in the right way, before I goherein Glostershire. I have got a touch, you see, of the true moneyed feeling already letting policy detain me in one place, when inclination would carry me to another. Fare you well once more, until we shake hands; which, with you, I would not do, unless I did it honestly. I shall be in town, I believe, by the 28th; and a lieutenant-colonel, I am sure, can leave a regiment at any time. As a proof that (for my part) we are still upon the same terms tlat we used to beask your father if he will present me. I could make old Sir Walter here, I have no doubt, submit to the duty, (and, in case I go to the continent, it may be convenient to me to get this done;) but I wo~tmld not have him able to say that I ever hoaxed him out of any politeness worth a moments consideration. Be- sides, I know enough of your father, to believe that he will feel no hesitation in obliging me ; -and I write to show you that I can ask a favor from a friend, when it is such a favor as may be conferred by one gentleman upon another. TO M OH, ask me not how long thy gentle love Hath dwelt on me; I only know t is long enough to prove Thy constancy. I cannot pause to number months, or days, I know alone, If to be faithful be Loves highest praise, Thou wearst the Grown. Oh, thou hast loved me long enough to show Thou canst not range; And long enough to bid experience know How others change. Oh, long enough for the upbraiding thought, That neer till now I prized thy loves rich treasure, as I ought, My all below. Yes, I have seen full many a dream depart With faithless speed; And some, who should have gently used my heart, Have made it bleed. And I have rued Affections broken vow, And felt the chill Of Friendships alterd eyebut, dearest, thou Art faithful still. ENtGMA. SIR Hilary charged at Agincourt, Sooth! t was an awful day? And though, in that old age of sport, The ruffiers of the camp and court Had little time to pray, T is said Sir Hilary muttered there Two syllables by way of prayer. My first to all the brave and proud Who see tomorrows sun My next, with her cold and quiet cloud1 To those who find their dewy shroud, Before to-days he done! And both together to all blue eyes That weep when a warrior nobly dies?

40 LETTER FROM CHARLES EDWARDS1 ESQ. whether to piece his discourse, or begin over again. In the end, the poor Baronet stammered out a parting compliment, even worse turned than that which Monsieur Rabican had broken in upon; and I returned home a personage decidedly more hateful to the Beauvoir family than ever, hut com- pletely relieved from all anxiety about my recep- tionas a potentate of the vicinityin future; and as an object of detestation with the worthy folks, you know, of necessity, an object, if not of terror, of respect. This, I think, is as it should be. I amflted by these people, and will be farther so: and, when they have gone through the abomination of getting my interest, they shall find that they have lost it. But that they are clumsy impostors, and deserve no such lenity, I could end their anxiety in a word; for, if I really have a majority in the borough, I think I shall sit for it myself. You laughbut I cant come back to the army, after six years deser- tion, to face your Waterloo reputation upon a lady-peace establishment. And a scat in Par- liament gives a man a semblance of pursuits in life, which (where no trouble attaches) is con- venient. You will come over to my election, (if I find I can command the place,) and help to eat the bad dinners, and kiss the peoples wives. Drop no word, however, I charge you, in the interim; because I must bamboozle these cockscotnbs, who meant to bamboozle me. The hook is in their mouths, and I shall be able to keep them on, with- out giving either a reasonable expectation. The moment they ask my decision, I shall give it against them; and yet, before then, I will have gained all they sought to withhold from me. This is not a world, Robert, in which a man can live by the use of candor, or of liberal principle; and he who is wise will fall into its spirit, and acquire a taste for hollow-heartedness and selfish feeling. To have ones opinions always flying out against those of every body elseones heart pin- ned upon ones sleeveis it not to fight too much at a disadvantage And may there not be some whim in shaking hands with a man very cordially, when you know he means to do you a mortal injury, and when you have digged a countermine, (in the way of surprise,) which, in five minutes, is to blow him to the moon When I was poor, who ever behaved even fairly to me And is it not monstrous vanity to expect that I now should behave disinterestedly to those I love not Farewell till we meet, which I hope will not be many days; but I must (with the kind aid of Sir W. Beauvoir) stamp my credit in the right way, before I goherein Glostershire. I have got a touch, you see, of the true moneyed feeling already letting policy detain me in one place, when inclination would carry me to another. Fare you well once more, until we shake hands; which, with you, I would not do, unless I did it honestly. I shall be in town, I believe, by the 28th; and a lieutenant-colonel, I am sure, can leave a regiment at any time. As a proof that (for my part) we are still upon the same terms tlat we used to beask your father if he will present me. I could make old Sir Walter here, I have no doubt, submit to the duty, (and, in case I go to the continent, it may be convenient to me to get this done;) but I wo~tmld not have him able to say that I ever hoaxed him out of any politeness worth a moments consideration. Be- sides, I know enough of your father, to believe that he will feel no hesitation in obliging me ; -and I write to show you that I can ask a favor from a friend, when it is such a favor as may be conferred by one gentleman upon another. TO M OH, ask me not how long thy gentle love Hath dwelt on me; I only know t is long enough to prove Thy constancy. I cannot pause to number months, or days, I know alone, If to be faithful be Loves highest praise, Thou wearst the Grown. Oh, thou hast loved me long enough to show Thou canst not range; And long enough to bid experience know How others change. Oh, long enough for the upbraiding thought, That neer till now I prized thy loves rich treasure, as I ought, My all below. Yes, I have seen full many a dream depart With faithless speed; And some, who should have gently used my heart, Have made it bleed. And I have rued Affections broken vow, And felt the chill Of Friendships alterd eyebut, dearest, thou Art faithful still. ENtGMA. SIR Hilary charged at Agincourt, Sooth! t was an awful day? And though, in that old age of sport, The ruffiers of the camp and court Had little time to pray, T is said Sir Hilary muttered there Two syllables by way of prayer. My first to all the brave and proud Who see tomorrows sun My next, with her cold and quiet cloud1 To those who find their dewy shroud, Before to-days he done! And both together to all blue eyes That weep when a warrior nobly dies? EMERSON.HALLECK. From the Foreign Quarterly Review. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. RALPH WALDO EMERSON, although he has writ- ten very little in this way, comes accredited to us by unmistakable manifestations of an original and poetical mind. He is the author of a volume of profound Essays, recently republished in England, under the editorship of Mr. Carlyle, who discovered in him a spiritual faculty congenial to his own. Mr. Emerson was formerly a Unitarian minister, but he embraced the Quaker interpretation of the sacrament of the Lords Supper, and threw up his church. He is now the editor of a quarterly maga- zine in Boston. The same thoughtful spirit which pervades his prose writings is visible in his poetry, bathed in the purple light of a rich fancy. Unfortunately, he has written too little to ensure him a great reputation; but what he has written is quaint and peculiar, and native to his own genius. From a little poem addressed To the Humble Bee, which, without being in the slight- est degree an imitation, constantly reminds us of the gorgeous beauty of lAllegro, we extract two or three passages. Fine humble-bee! fine humble-bee! Where thou art is clime for me, Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far-off heats through seas to seek. I will follow thee alone, Thou animated torrid-zone! * * * When the south-wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze, Silvers the horizon wall, And with softness touching all, Tints the human countenance With a color of romance, And infusing subtle heats Turns the sod to violets Thou in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dust displace With thy mellow breezy bass. * * * Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen, But violets, and bilberry bells, Maple sap, and daffodels, Clover. catchfly, adders-tongue, And brier-roses dwelt among. All besides was unknown waste, All was picture as he past. This is not merely beautiful, though beauty is its OWR excuse for being. There is pleasant wis- dom hived in the bag of the yellow-hreeched philosopher, who sees only what is fair and sips only what is sweet. Mr. Emerson evidently cares little about any reputation to be gained by writing verses; his intellect seeks other vents, where it is untrammelled by forms and conditions. But he cannot help his inspiration. He is a poet in his prose. FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. FITZ-GREENE HALLEcK has acquired a wider celebrity, and won it well. He is the author, amongst other things, of a noble lyric, Marco Bozzaris. Had he written nothing more he must have earned a high popularity; bis he has written much more, equally distinguished tiy a refined taste and cultivated judgment. But the Marco Boz- zaris, containing not more than a hundred lines, or thereabouts, is his master-piece. It is conse- crated to the Greek chief of that name who fell in an attack on the Turkish camp at Laspi, and is, as as a whole, one of the most perfect specimens of versification we are acquainted with in American literature. We will not detract from its intrinsic claims by inquiring to what extent Mr. Halleck is indebted to the study of well-known models; for, although in this piece we catch that stepping in music of the rhythm which constitutes the secret charm of the Hohenlinden, we are glad to recognize in all his productions, apart from inci- dental resemblances of this kind, a knowledge as complete, as it is rare amongst his contemporaries, of the musical mysteries of his art. It is in this Mr. Halleck excels, and it is for this melodiousness of structure that his lines are admired even where their real merit is least understood. We are too much pressed in space to afford room for the whole of this poem, and are unwilling to injure its effect by an isolated passage. The chrysolite must not be broken. But here is an extract from a poem called Red Jacket, which will abundantly ex- hibit the freedom and airiness of Mr. Hallecks versification. Red Jacket was a famous Indian chief. Is strength a monarchs merit2 (like a whalers) Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong As earths first kingsthe Argos gallant sailors Heroes in history, and gods in song. Is eloquence? Her spell is thine that reaches The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport; And there s one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their masterythey are short. Is beauty? Thine has with thy youth departed, But the love-legends of thy manhoods years, And she who perished, young and broken-hearted, Arebut I rhyme for smiles and not tears. The monarch mindthe mystery of commanding, The god-like power, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding The hearts of millions till they move as one; Thou nast it. At thy bidding men have crowded The road to death as to a festival; And minstrel minds, without a blush, have shrouded With banner-folds of glory their dark pall. * * * * 41

EMERSON.HALLECK. From the Foreign Quarterly Review. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. RALPH WALDO EMERSON, although he has writ- ten very little in this way, comes accredited to us by unmistakable manifestations of an original and poetical mind. He is the author of a volume of profound Essays, recently republished in England, under the editorship of Mr. Carlyle, who discovered in him a spiritual faculty congenial to his own. Mr. Emerson was formerly a Unitarian minister, but he embraced the Quaker interpretation of the sacrament of the Lords Supper, and threw up his church. He is now the editor of a quarterly maga- zine in Boston. The same thoughtful spirit which pervades his prose writings is visible in his poetry, bathed in the purple light of a rich fancy. Unfortunately, he has written too little to ensure him a great reputation; but what he has written is quaint and peculiar, and native to his own genius. From a little poem addressed To the Humble Bee, which, without being in the slight- est degree an imitation, constantly reminds us of the gorgeous beauty of lAllegro, we extract two or three passages. Fine humble-bee! fine humble-bee! Where thou art is clime for me, Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far-off heats through seas to seek. I will follow thee alone, Thou animated torrid-zone! * * * When the south-wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze, Silvers the horizon wall, And with softness touching all, Tints the human countenance With a color of romance, And infusing subtle heats Turns the sod to violets Thou in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dust displace With thy mellow breezy bass. * * * Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen, But violets, and bilberry bells, Maple sap, and daffodels, Clover. catchfly, adders-tongue, And brier-roses dwelt among. All besides was unknown waste, All was picture as he past. This is not merely beautiful, though beauty is its OWR excuse for being. There is pleasant wis- dom hived in the bag of the yellow-hreeched philosopher, who sees only what is fair and sips only what is sweet. Mr. Emerson evidently cares little about any reputation to be gained by writing verses; his intellect seeks other vents, where it is untrammelled by forms and conditions. But he cannot help his inspiration. He is a poet in his prose. FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. FITZ-GREENE HALLEcK has acquired a wider celebrity, and won it well. He is the author, amongst other things, of a noble lyric, Marco Bozzaris. Had he written nothing more he must have earned a high popularity; bis he has written much more, equally distinguished tiy a refined taste and cultivated judgment. But the Marco Boz- zaris, containing not more than a hundred lines, or thereabouts, is his master-piece. It is conse- crated to the Greek chief of that name who fell in an attack on the Turkish camp at Laspi, and is, as as a whole, one of the most perfect specimens of versification we are acquainted with in American literature. We will not detract from its intrinsic claims by inquiring to what extent Mr. Halleck is indebted to the study of well-known models; for, although in this piece we catch that stepping in music of the rhythm which constitutes the secret charm of the Hohenlinden, we are glad to recognize in all his productions, apart from inci- dental resemblances of this kind, a knowledge as complete, as it is rare amongst his contemporaries, of the musical mysteries of his art. It is in this Mr. Halleck excels, and it is for this melodiousness of structure that his lines are admired even where their real merit is least understood. We are too much pressed in space to afford room for the whole of this poem, and are unwilling to injure its effect by an isolated passage. The chrysolite must not be broken. But here is an extract from a poem called Red Jacket, which will abundantly ex- hibit the freedom and airiness of Mr. Hallecks versification. Red Jacket was a famous Indian chief. Is strength a monarchs merit2 (like a whalers) Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong As earths first kingsthe Argos gallant sailors Heroes in history, and gods in song. Is eloquence? Her spell is thine that reaches The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport; And there s one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their masterythey are short. Is beauty? Thine has with thy youth departed, But the love-legends of thy manhoods years, And she who perished, young and broken-hearted, Arebut I rhyme for smiles and not tears. The monarch mindthe mystery of commanding, The god-like power, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding The hearts of millions till they move as one; Thou nast it. At thy bidding men have crowded The road to death as to a festival; And minstrel minds, without a blush, have shrouded With banner-folds of glory their dark pall. * * * * 41

EMERSON.HALLECK. From the Foreign Quarterly Review. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. RALPH WALDO EMERSON, although he has writ- ten very little in this way, comes accredited to us by unmistakable manifestations of an original and poetical mind. He is the author of a volume of profound Essays, recently republished in England, under the editorship of Mr. Carlyle, who discovered in him a spiritual faculty congenial to his own. Mr. Emerson was formerly a Unitarian minister, but he embraced the Quaker interpretation of the sacrament of the Lords Supper, and threw up his church. He is now the editor of a quarterly maga- zine in Boston. The same thoughtful spirit which pervades his prose writings is visible in his poetry, bathed in the purple light of a rich fancy. Unfortunately, he has written too little to ensure him a great reputation; but what he has written is quaint and peculiar, and native to his own genius. From a little poem addressed To the Humble Bee, which, without being in the slight- est degree an imitation, constantly reminds us of the gorgeous beauty of lAllegro, we extract two or three passages. Fine humble-bee! fine humble-bee! Where thou art is clime for me, Let them sail for Porto Rique, Far-off heats through seas to seek. I will follow thee alone, Thou animated torrid-zone! * * * When the south-wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze, Silvers the horizon wall, And with softness touching all, Tints the human countenance With a color of romance, And infusing subtle heats Turns the sod to violets Thou in sunny solitudes, Rover of the underwoods, The green silence dust displace With thy mellow breezy bass. * * * Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen, But violets, and bilberry bells, Maple sap, and daffodels, Clover. catchfly, adders-tongue, And brier-roses dwelt among. All besides was unknown waste, All was picture as he past. This is not merely beautiful, though beauty is its OWR excuse for being. There is pleasant wis- dom hived in the bag of the yellow-hreeched philosopher, who sees only what is fair and sips only what is sweet. Mr. Emerson evidently cares little about any reputation to be gained by writing verses; his intellect seeks other vents, where it is untrammelled by forms and conditions. But he cannot help his inspiration. He is a poet in his prose. FITZ-GREENE HALLECK. FITZ-GREENE HALLEcK has acquired a wider celebrity, and won it well. He is the author, amongst other things, of a noble lyric, Marco Bozzaris. Had he written nothing more he must have earned a high popularity; bis he has written much more, equally distinguished tiy a refined taste and cultivated judgment. But the Marco Boz- zaris, containing not more than a hundred lines, or thereabouts, is his master-piece. It is conse- crated to the Greek chief of that name who fell in an attack on the Turkish camp at Laspi, and is, as as a whole, one of the most perfect specimens of versification we are acquainted with in American literature. We will not detract from its intrinsic claims by inquiring to what extent Mr. Halleck is indebted to the study of well-known models; for, although in this piece we catch that stepping in music of the rhythm which constitutes the secret charm of the Hohenlinden, we are glad to recognize in all his productions, apart from inci- dental resemblances of this kind, a knowledge as complete, as it is rare amongst his contemporaries, of the musical mysteries of his art. It is in this Mr. Halleck excels, and it is for this melodiousness of structure that his lines are admired even where their real merit is least understood. We are too much pressed in space to afford room for the whole of this poem, and are unwilling to injure its effect by an isolated passage. The chrysolite must not be broken. But here is an extract from a poem called Red Jacket, which will abundantly ex- hibit the freedom and airiness of Mr. Hallecks versification. Red Jacket was a famous Indian chief. Is strength a monarchs merit2 (like a whalers) Thou art as tall, as sinewy, and as strong As earths first kingsthe Argos gallant sailors Heroes in history, and gods in song. Is eloquence? Her spell is thine that reaches The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport; And there s one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their masterythey are short. Is beauty? Thine has with thy youth departed, But the love-legends of thy manhoods years, And she who perished, young and broken-hearted, Arebut I rhyme for smiles and not tears. The monarch mindthe mystery of commanding, The god-like power, the art Napoleon, Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding The hearts of millions till they move as one; Thou nast it. At thy bidding men have crowded The road to death as to a festival; And minstrel minds, without a blush, have shrouded With banner-folds of glory their dark pall. * * * * 41 42 BIIYANT.LONGFELLOW. And underneath that face like summers oceans, Its lip as moveless and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the hearts emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrowall, save fear. Lovefor thy land, as if she were thy daughter, Her pipes in peace, her tomahawk in wars; Hatredfor missionaries and cold water; Pridein thy rifle-trophies and thy scars; Hopethat thy wrongs will be by the Great Spirit Remembered and revenged when thou art gone; Sorrowthat none are left thee to inherit Thy name, thy fame, thy passions, and thy throne. The author of these stanzas, strange to say, is superintendent of the affairs of Mr. Astor, the capitalist, who built the great hotel in New York. W. C. BRYANT. We have been all along looking out for a purely American poet, who should be strictly national in the comprehensive sense of the term. The only man who approaches that character is William Cullen Bryant; but if Bryant were not a sound poet in all other aspects, his nationality would avail him nothing. Nature made him a poet, and the accident of birth has placed him amongst the forests of America. Out of this national inspi- ration he draws universal sympathiesnot the less universal because their springs are ever close at hand, ever in view, and ever turned to with re- newed affection. He does not thrust the Aniert- can flag in our faces, and threaten the world with the terrors of a gory peace; he exults in the issues of freedom for nobler ends and larger inter- ests. He is. the only one of the American poets who ascends to the height of this great argu- ment,~ and lifts his theme above the earthly taint of bigotry and prejudice. In him, by virtue of the poetry that is in his heart, such themes grow up into dignity. His genius makes all men partici- pators in them, seeking and developing the unt- versality that lies at their core. The woods, prairies, mountains, tempests, the seasons, the life and destiny of man, are the subjects in which he delights. He treats them with religious solemnity, and brings to the contemplation of nature, in her grandest revelations, a pure and serious spirit. His poetry is reflective, but not sad; grave in its depths, but brightened in its flow by the sunshine of the imagination. His poems addressed to rivers, woods, and winds, all of which he has separately apostrophized, have the solemn grandeur of an- thems, voicing remote and trackless solitudes. Their beauty is affecting, because it is true and full of reverence. Faithful to his inspiration, he never interrupts the profound ideal that has entered into his spirit to propitiate the genius loci :he is no middleman standing between his vernal glories and the enjoyment of the rest of mankind. He is wholly exempt from verbal prettiness, from flaunt- ing imagery and New World conceits; he never paints on gauze; he is always in earnest, and always poetical. His manner is everywhere grace- ful and unaffected. Two collections of Mr. Bryants poems have been published in London, and the reader may be presumed to be already acquainted with nearly all he has written. The following passage, descrip- tive of the train of thoughts suggested by the shutting in of evening, has appeared only in the American editions: The summer day has closedthe sun is set: Well have th& y done their office, those bright hours The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown, And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still forever; painted moths Ilave wandered the blue sky, and died again; The mother-bird hath broken for her brood Their prison-shells, or shoved them from the nest, Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves, In woodland cottages with earthy walls, In noisome cells of the tumultuous town, Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born babe. Graves, by the lonely forest, by the shore Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways Of the thronged city, have been hallowed out, And filled, and closed. This day hath parted friends, That neer before were parted; it hath knit New friendships; it bath seen the maiden plight tier faith, and trust her peace to him who long Hath wooed; and it hath heard, from lips which late Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, That told the wedded one her peace was flown. Farewell to the sweet sunshine! one glad day Is added now to childhoods merry days, And one calm day to those of quiet age; Still the fleet hours run on; and as I lean Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit By those who watch the dead, and those who twine Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes Of her sick infant shades the painful light, And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath. When America shall have given birth to a few such poets as Bryant, she may begin to build up a national literature, to the recognition of which all the world will subscribe. II. W. LONGFELLOW. Only one name now remains, that of the most accomplished 6t the brotherhood, Henry Wads- worth Longfellow. But we have some doubts whether he can be fairly considered an indigenous specimen. His mind was educated in Europe. At eighteen years of age he left America, and spent four years in travelling through Europe, lin- gering to study for a part of the time at Gottingen.

42 BIIYANT.LONGFELLOW. And underneath that face like summers oceans, Its lip as moveless and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the hearts emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrowall, save fear. Lovefor thy land, as if she were thy daughter, Her pipes in peace, her tomahawk in wars; Hatredfor missionaries and cold water; Pridein thy rifle-trophies and thy scars; Hopethat thy wrongs will be by the Great Spirit Remembered and revenged when thou art gone; Sorrowthat none are left thee to inherit Thy name, thy fame, thy passions, and thy throne. The author of these stanzas, strange to say, is superintendent of the affairs of Mr. Astor, the capitalist, who built the great hotel in New York. W. C. BRYANT. We have been all along looking out for a purely American poet, who should be strictly national in the comprehensive sense of the term. The only man who approaches that character is William Cullen Bryant; but if Bryant were not a sound poet in all other aspects, his nationality would avail him nothing. Nature made him a poet, and the accident of birth has placed him amongst the forests of America. Out of this national inspi- ration he draws universal sympathiesnot the less universal because their springs are ever close at hand, ever in view, and ever turned to with re- newed affection. He does not thrust the Aniert- can flag in our faces, and threaten the world with the terrors of a gory peace; he exults in the issues of freedom for nobler ends and larger inter- ests. He is. the only one of the American poets who ascends to the height of this great argu- ment,~ and lifts his theme above the earthly taint of bigotry and prejudice. In him, by virtue of the poetry that is in his heart, such themes grow up into dignity. His genius makes all men partici- pators in them, seeking and developing the unt- versality that lies at their core. The woods, prairies, mountains, tempests, the seasons, the life and destiny of man, are the subjects in which he delights. He treats them with religious solemnity, and brings to the contemplation of nature, in her grandest revelations, a pure and serious spirit. His poetry is reflective, but not sad; grave in its depths, but brightened in its flow by the sunshine of the imagination. His poems addressed to rivers, woods, and winds, all of which he has separately apostrophized, have the solemn grandeur of an- thems, voicing remote and trackless solitudes. Their beauty is affecting, because it is true and full of reverence. Faithful to his inspiration, he never interrupts the profound ideal that has entered into his spirit to propitiate the genius loci :he is no middleman standing between his vernal glories and the enjoyment of the rest of mankind. He is wholly exempt from verbal prettiness, from flaunt- ing imagery and New World conceits; he never paints on gauze; he is always in earnest, and always poetical. His manner is everywhere grace- ful and unaffected. Two collections of Mr. Bryants poems have been published in London, and the reader may be presumed to be already acquainted with nearly all he has written. The following passage, descrip- tive of the train of thoughts suggested by the shutting in of evening, has appeared only in the American editions: The summer day has closedthe sun is set: Well have th& y done their office, those bright hours The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown, And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still forever; painted moths Ilave wandered the blue sky, and died again; The mother-bird hath broken for her brood Their prison-shells, or shoved them from the nest, Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves, In woodland cottages with earthy walls, In noisome cells of the tumultuous town, Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born babe. Graves, by the lonely forest, by the shore Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways Of the thronged city, have been hallowed out, And filled, and closed. This day hath parted friends, That neer before were parted; it hath knit New friendships; it bath seen the maiden plight tier faith, and trust her peace to him who long Hath wooed; and it hath heard, from lips which late Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, That told the wedded one her peace was flown. Farewell to the sweet sunshine! one glad day Is added now to childhoods merry days, And one calm day to those of quiet age; Still the fleet hours run on; and as I lean Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit By those who watch the dead, and those who twine Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes Of her sick infant shades the painful light, And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath. When America shall have given birth to a few such poets as Bryant, she may begin to build up a national literature, to the recognition of which all the world will subscribe. II. W. LONGFELLOW. Only one name now remains, that of the most accomplished 6t the brotherhood, Henry Wads- worth Longfellow. But we have some doubts whether he can be fairly considered an indigenous specimen. His mind was educated in Europe. At eighteen years of age he left America, and spent four years in travelling through Europe, lin- gering to study for a part of the time at Gottingen.

42 BIIYANT.LONGFELLOW. And underneath that face like summers oceans, Its lip as moveless and its cheek as clear, Slumbers a whirlwind of the hearts emotions, Love, hatred, pride, hope, sorrowall, save fear. Lovefor thy land, as if she were thy daughter, Her pipes in peace, her tomahawk in wars; Hatredfor missionaries and cold water; Pridein thy rifle-trophies and thy scars; Hopethat thy wrongs will be by the Great Spirit Remembered and revenged when thou art gone; Sorrowthat none are left thee to inherit Thy name, thy fame, thy passions, and thy throne. The author of these stanzas, strange to say, is superintendent of the affairs of Mr. Astor, the capitalist, who built the great hotel in New York. W. C. BRYANT. We have been all along looking out for a purely American poet, who should be strictly national in the comprehensive sense of the term. The only man who approaches that character is William Cullen Bryant; but if Bryant were not a sound poet in all other aspects, his nationality would avail him nothing. Nature made him a poet, and the accident of birth has placed him amongst the forests of America. Out of this national inspi- ration he draws universal sympathiesnot the less universal because their springs are ever close at hand, ever in view, and ever turned to with re- newed affection. He does not thrust the Aniert- can flag in our faces, and threaten the world with the terrors of a gory peace; he exults in the issues of freedom for nobler ends and larger inter- ests. He is. the only one of the American poets who ascends to the height of this great argu- ment,~ and lifts his theme above the earthly taint of bigotry and prejudice. In him, by virtue of the poetry that is in his heart, such themes grow up into dignity. His genius makes all men partici- pators in them, seeking and developing the unt- versality that lies at their core. The woods, prairies, mountains, tempests, the seasons, the life and destiny of man, are the subjects in which he delights. He treats them with religious solemnity, and brings to the contemplation of nature, in her grandest revelations, a pure and serious spirit. His poetry is reflective, but not sad; grave in its depths, but brightened in its flow by the sunshine of the imagination. His poems addressed to rivers, woods, and winds, all of which he has separately apostrophized, have the solemn grandeur of an- thems, voicing remote and trackless solitudes. Their beauty is affecting, because it is true and full of reverence. Faithful to his inspiration, he never interrupts the profound ideal that has entered into his spirit to propitiate the genius loci :he is no middleman standing between his vernal glories and the enjoyment of the rest of mankind. He is wholly exempt from verbal prettiness, from flaunt- ing imagery and New World conceits; he never paints on gauze; he is always in earnest, and always poetical. His manner is everywhere grace- ful and unaffected. Two collections of Mr. Bryants poems have been published in London, and the reader may be presumed to be already acquainted with nearly all he has written. The following passage, descrip- tive of the train of thoughts suggested by the shutting in of evening, has appeared only in the American editions: The summer day has closedthe sun is set: Well have th& y done their office, those bright hours The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown, And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still forever; painted moths Ilave wandered the blue sky, and died again; The mother-bird hath broken for her brood Their prison-shells, or shoved them from the nest, Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves, In woodland cottages with earthy walls, In noisome cells of the tumultuous town, Mothers have clasped with joy the new-born babe. Graves, by the lonely forest, by the shore Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways Of the thronged city, have been hallowed out, And filled, and closed. This day hath parted friends, That neer before were parted; it hath knit New friendships; it bath seen the maiden plight tier faith, and trust her peace to him who long Hath wooed; and it hath heard, from lips which late Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word, That told the wedded one her peace was flown. Farewell to the sweet sunshine! one glad day Is added now to childhoods merry days, And one calm day to those of quiet age; Still the fleet hours run on; and as I lean Amid the thickening darkness, lamps are lit By those who watch the dead, and those who twine Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes Of her sick infant shades the painful light, And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath. When America shall have given birth to a few such poets as Bryant, she may begin to build up a national literature, to the recognition of which all the world will subscribe. II. W. LONGFELLOW. Only one name now remains, that of the most accomplished 6t the brotherhood, Henry Wads- worth Longfellow. But we have some doubts whether he can be fairly considered an indigenous specimen. His mind was educated in Europe. At eighteen years of age he left America, and spent four years in travelling through Europe, lin- gering to study for a part of the time at Gottingen. LONGFELLOW. On his return he was appointed professor of mod- ern languages in Bowdoin College; but at the end of a few years he ~vent into Sweden and Den- mark, to acquire a knowledge of the literature and languages of the Northern nations. When he again returned, he accepted the professorship of the French and Spanish languages in Harvard College, Cambridge, which he now holds. We must not be surprised to find his poetry deeply colored by these experiences, and cultivated by a height of refinement far above the taste of his countrymen. But America claims him, and is en- titled to him; and has much reason to be proud of this ripe and elegant scholar. He is unquestiona- bly the first of her poets, the most thoughtful and chaste; the most elaborate and finished. Taking leave of the others, with a just appreciation of the last mentioned two or three, and coming suddenly upon Longfellows lyrics, is like passing out of a ragged country into a rich Eastern garden, with the music of birds and falling waters singing in our ears at every step. His poems are distin- guished by severe intellectual beauty, by dulcet sweetness of expression, a wise and hopeful spirit, and complete command over every variety of rhythm. They are neither numerous nor long; but of that compact texture which will last for posterity. His translations from the continental languages are admirable; and in one of them, from the Swedish of Bishop Tegner, he has suc- cessfully rendered into English, the inexorable hexameters of the original. We believe nearly all Mr. Longfellows poems have been reprinted in England; and we hope they may be extensively diffused, and received with the honorable welcome they deserve From the Prelude to the Voices of the Night, we take a few stanzas of exquisite grace and tenderness. Beneath some patriarchal tree I lay upon the ground; His hoary arms uplifted he, And all the broad leaves over me Clapped their little hands in glee, With one continuous sound: A slumberous sounda sound that brings The feelings of a dream As of innumerable wings, As when a bell no longer swings, Faint the hollow murmur rings Oer meadow, lake, and stream. And dreams of that which cannot die, Bright visions came to me, As lapped in thought I used to lie, And gaze into the summer sky, When the sailing clouds ~vent by, Like ships upon the sea; Dreams that the soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quelled; Old legends of the monkish page, Traditions of the saint and sage, 43 Tales that have the rime of age, And chronicles of Eld. And loving still these quaint old themes, Even in the citys throng I feel the freshness of the streams, That, crossed by shades and sunn~ gleams, Water the green land of dreams, The holy land of song. Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings The spring, clothed like a bird, When nestling buds unfold their wings, And bishops-caps have golden rings, Musing upon many things, I sought the woodlands wide. The greemi trees whispered low and mild; It Was a soun(l of joy! They were my playmates when a child, And rocked me in their arms so wild! Still they looked at me and smiled, As if I were a boy; And ever whispered mild and low, Come, be a child once more! And waved their long arms to and fro, And beckoned solemnly and slow Oh, I could not choose but go Into the woodlands hoar. Into the blithe and breathing air, Into the solemn wood, Solemn and silent everywhere! Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer! Like one in prayer I stood. The artful modulation of these lines is not less worthy of critical notice than the pathos of the emotion which literally gushes like tears through them. THE SPRING SHOWER. AWAY to that snug nook; for the thick shower Rushes on stridingly. Ay, now it comes, Glancing about the leaves with its first drips, Like snatches of faint music. Joyous thrush, It mingles with thy song, and beats soft time To thy bubbling shrillness. Now it louder falls, Pattering, like the far voice of leaping rills; And now it breaks upon the shrinking clumps With a crash of many soundsthe thrush is still. There are sweet scents about us; the violet hides On that green bank; the primrose sparkles there: The earth is grateful to the teeming clouds, And yields a sudden freshness to their kisses. But now the shower slopes to the warm west, Leaving a dewy track; and see, the big drops, Like falling pearls, glisten in the sunny mist. The air is clear again, and the far woods Shine out in their early green. Let s onward then, For the first blossoms peep about our path, The lambs are nibbling the short dripping grass, And the birds are on the bushes.

LONGFELLOW. On his return he was appointed professor of mod- ern languages in Bowdoin College; but at the end of a few years he ~vent into Sweden and Den- mark, to acquire a knowledge of the literature and languages of the Northern nations. When he again returned, he accepted the professorship of the French and Spanish languages in Harvard College, Cambridge, which he now holds. We must not be surprised to find his poetry deeply colored by these experiences, and cultivated by a height of refinement far above the taste of his countrymen. But America claims him, and is en- titled to him; and has much reason to be proud of this ripe and elegant scholar. He is unquestiona- bly the first of her poets, the most thoughtful and chaste; the most elaborate and finished. Taking leave of the others, with a just appreciation of the last mentioned two or three, and coming suddenly upon Longfellows lyrics, is like passing out of a ragged country into a rich Eastern garden, with the music of birds and falling waters singing in our ears at every step. His poems are distin- guished by severe intellectual beauty, by dulcet sweetness of expression, a wise and hopeful spirit, and complete command over every variety of rhythm. They are neither numerous nor long; but of that compact texture which will last for posterity. His translations from the continental languages are admirable; and in one of them, from the Swedish of Bishop Tegner, he has suc- cessfully rendered into English, the inexorable hexameters of the original. We believe nearly all Mr. Longfellows poems have been reprinted in England; and we hope they may be extensively diffused, and received with the honorable welcome they deserve From the Prelude to the Voices of the Night, we take a few stanzas of exquisite grace and tenderness. Beneath some patriarchal tree I lay upon the ground; His hoary arms uplifted he, And all the broad leaves over me Clapped their little hands in glee, With one continuous sound: A slumberous sounda sound that brings The feelings of a dream As of innumerable wings, As when a bell no longer swings, Faint the hollow murmur rings Oer meadow, lake, and stream. And dreams of that which cannot die, Bright visions came to me, As lapped in thought I used to lie, And gaze into the summer sky, When the sailing clouds ~vent by, Like ships upon the sea; Dreams that the soul of youth engage Ere Fancy has been quelled; Old legends of the monkish page, Traditions of the saint and sage, 43 Tales that have the rime of age, And chronicles of Eld. And loving still these quaint old themes, Even in the citys throng I feel the freshness of the streams, That, crossed by shades and sunn~ gleams, Water the green land of dreams, The holy land of song. Therefore, at Pentecost, which brings The spring, clothed like a bird, When nestling buds unfold their wings, And bishops-caps have golden rings, Musing upon many things, I sought the woodlands wide. The greemi trees whispered low and mild; It Was a soun(l of joy! They were my playmates when a child, And rocked me in their arms so wild! Still they looked at me and smiled, As if I were a boy; And ever whispered mild and low, Come, be a child once more! And waved their long arms to and fro, And beckoned solemnly and slow Oh, I could not choose but go Into the woodlands hoar. Into the blithe and breathing air, Into the solemn wood, Solemn and silent everywhere! Nature with folded hands seemed there, Kneeling at her evening prayer! Like one in prayer I stood. The artful modulation of these lines is not less worthy of critical notice than the pathos of the emotion which literally gushes like tears through them. THE SPRING SHOWER. AWAY to that snug nook; for the thick shower Rushes on stridingly. Ay, now it comes, Glancing about the leaves with its first drips, Like snatches of faint music. Joyous thrush, It mingles with thy song, and beats soft time To thy bubbling shrillness. Now it louder falls, Pattering, like the far voice of leaping rills; And now it breaks upon the shrinking clumps With a crash of many soundsthe thrush is still. There are sweet scents about us; the violet hides On that green bank; the primrose sparkles there: The earth is grateful to the teeming clouds, And yields a sudden freshness to their kisses. But now the shower slopes to the warm west, Leaving a dewy track; and see, the big drops, Like falling pearls, glisten in the sunny mist. The air is clear again, and the far woods Shine out in their early green. Let s onward then, For the first blossoms peep about our path, The lambs are nibbling the short dripping grass, And the birds are on the bushes. THE MAUVAIS PAS. From Blackwoods Magazine. ~ THE MAUVAIS PA S. A SCENE iN THE ALPS. iLLUSTRATING A PASSAGE IN THE NOVEL OF ANNE ON GEIER STEIN. Is there an individual, who has trod at all be- yond the beaten track of life, who does not harbor within his mind the recollection of some incident or incidents of so eventful a nature, that it requires but the shade of an association to bring them for- ward from their resting-place, bright, clear, and distinct, as at the moment of their existence l We suspect there are many who, in their hours of soli- tude, might be seen to manifest symptoms of such reminiscences; and many who, in the busy world, and amidst the hum of men, might also be seen to start as if visions of things long gone by were again before them, and to shrink within them- selves, as though spirits of olden times were passing before their face, and causing the hair of their flesh to stand up. It is now many years ago since an event of this character occurred to the writer of these pages. This event, however, such as it is, would, in all probability, never have been recorded on any other tablets than those of his own private thoughts, or have wandered beyond the limited circle of others, who, from natural causes, were interested in its details, had it not, within the last few days, been brought vividly before him, by a writer, whose un- rivalled descriptive powers have so often given a semblance of truth to tales of fiction, and excited a thrill on the recital of perils and adventures, where no personal interests were called forth to give additional animation to the narrative. Long I)efore they can peruse these lines, the readers of Blackwoods Magazine will, doubtless, have made themselves acquainted with Anne of Geierstein; and many a mountain traveller, accustomed to sojourn amidst the heights and depths of Alpine scenery, will have borne testimony to the splen- did representation of Mont Pilate, arrayed in its gloomy panoply of vapor, and clouds, and storms, and will have followed the daring Arthur Philipson, with breathless interest, as he wound his cautious way on the ledge of the granite pre- cipice upreared before him: and such readers will scarcely be surprised, that a description like this should make no ordinary impression on one, who, without the slightest pretensions to the vigor and muscular activity of a hardy mountaineer of the fifteenth century, once found himself in a predica- ment somewhat similar, and oddly enough occa- sioned by a disaster akin to this, which so nearly proved fatal to the travellers from Lucerne. Be- lieve me, Mr. Editor, when, in Sir Walter Scotts 34th page, I descended from the platform on which the adventurous son bade adieu to his father, and gained with him the narrow ledge, creeping along the very brink of the precipice, days, months, and years shrunk away, and once again did I feel my- self tottering on the airy pathway of the very platform, on which I also was once doomed to gaze, with feelings which time can n& ver efface from my recollection. It was in the year 1818 that I arrived in the vil- lage of Martigny, a few days after that memorable catastrophe, when, by the bursting of its icy mounds, the extensive Lake of Mauvoisin was, in an instant, let loose, pouring forth six hundred millions of cubic feet of water over the peaceful and fruitful valleys of the Drance, with the irresist ible velocity of sixteen miles an hour, carrying before its overwhelming torrent every vestige of civilized life which stood within its impetuous reach. The whole village and its environs exhib- ited a dreary scene of death aiid desolation. The landlord, with many others of his acquaintance and kinsfolk, had been swep~ from their dwelling- places, or perished in their ruins. The wreck of a well-built English carriage occupied part of the inner court-yard, while the body, torn from its springs, had grounded upon a thicket in the field adjacent. The plains through which the treach- erous stream was now winding its wonted course, had all the appearance of a barren desert. Luxu- riant meadows were cosiverted into reservoirs of sand and gravel; and crops nearly ripe for the sickle, were beaten down into masses of corrupting vegetation. Here and there aInorphous piles of trees, beams, carts, stacks, and remnants of every description of building, were hurled against some fragment of rock, or other natural obstacle, form- ing, in many cases, it was too evident, the grave- mound of human victims soddening beneath. On the door of the dilapidated inn, the following ap- peal was attached; but it required no document written by the hand of man to tell the tale of wo: The floods had passed over it, and it was gone, and the place thereof was known no more.~1 AME5 GENEREUSES! Un mouvement de la grande nature vient de changer une contuic fertile et riante en un theatre de d& olation et de la mis~re, par lirruption du lac de Getroz, arrivmie le 16 Juin, 1818. Les victimes de cette catastrophe tendent leurs mains vers vous, images de la Diviimit~ bienfaisante. Quelle occa- sion favorable dexercer votre vertu favorite, et de verser des larmes de plaisir, en tarissant cellos de malbeur! It was impossible to contemplate effects conse- quent upon so awful a visitation, without a corre- sponding excitement of strong curiosity to follow the devastation to its source, and learn, from ocular inspection, the mode in which nature had carried on and completed her dreadful operations. Accor- dingly, having ascertained that although the regu- lar roads, bridgeways, and pathways, were carried away, a circuitous course over the mountains was feasible to the very foot of the Glaciers of Mont Pleureur, which impended over the mouth of the lac de Getroz, a guide was secured, and with him, on the following morning, before sun- rise, I found myself toiling through the pine-woods clothing the steep sides of the mountains to the east of Martigny. It is not, however, my intention to enter into details (though interesting enough in their way) unconnected with the one sole object, which, while I am now writing, hOvers before me like Macbeths dagger, to the exclusion of other things of minor import. Suffice it to say, that as the evening closed, I entered a desolate large scrambling sort of mansion, formerly, as I was given to understand, a convent belonging to some monks of La Trappe; a fact confirmed by sundry portraits of its late gloomy possessors, hung round the dark dismantled chamber in which I was to sleep. The village, of which this mansion had formed a part, had been saved almost by miracle. A strong stone bridge, with some natural embank- ments, gave a momentary cheek to the descending torreiit, which instantly rose, and in another minute must have inevitably swept away all before it, when fortunately the earth on every side gave 44

THE MAUVAIS PAS. From Blackwoods Magazine. ~ THE MAUVAIS PA S. A SCENE iN THE ALPS. iLLUSTRATING A PASSAGE IN THE NOVEL OF ANNE ON GEIER STEIN. Is there an individual, who has trod at all be- yond the beaten track of life, who does not harbor within his mind the recollection of some incident or incidents of so eventful a nature, that it requires but the shade of an association to bring them for- ward from their resting-place, bright, clear, and distinct, as at the moment of their existence l We suspect there are many who, in their hours of soli- tude, might be seen to manifest symptoms of such reminiscences; and many who, in the busy world, and amidst the hum of men, might also be seen to start as if visions of things long gone by were again before them, and to shrink within them- selves, as though spirits of olden times were passing before their face, and causing the hair of their flesh to stand up. It is now many years ago since an event of this character occurred to the writer of these pages. This event, however, such as it is, would, in all probability, never have been recorded on any other tablets than those of his own private thoughts, or have wandered beyond the limited circle of others, who, from natural causes, were interested in its details, had it not, within the last few days, been brought vividly before him, by a writer, whose un- rivalled descriptive powers have so often given a semblance of truth to tales of fiction, and excited a thrill on the recital of perils and adventures, where no personal interests were called forth to give additional animation to the narrative. Long I)efore they can peruse these lines, the readers of Blackwoods Magazine will, doubtless, have made themselves acquainted with Anne of Geierstein; and many a mountain traveller, accustomed to sojourn amidst the heights and depths of Alpine scenery, will have borne testimony to the splen- did representation of Mont Pilate, arrayed in its gloomy panoply of vapor, and clouds, and storms, and will have followed the daring Arthur Philipson, with breathless interest, as he wound his cautious way on the ledge of the granite pre- cipice upreared before him: and such readers will scarcely be surprised, that a description like this should make no ordinary impression on one, who, without the slightest pretensions to the vigor and muscular activity of a hardy mountaineer of the fifteenth century, once found himself in a predica- ment somewhat similar, and oddly enough occa- sioned by a disaster akin to this, which so nearly proved fatal to the travellers from Lucerne. Be- lieve me, Mr. Editor, when, in Sir Walter Scotts 34th page, I descended from the platform on which the adventurous son bade adieu to his father, and gained with him the narrow ledge, creeping along the very brink of the precipice, days, months, and years shrunk away, and once again did I feel my- self tottering on the airy pathway of the very platform, on which I also was once doomed to gaze, with feelings which time can n& ver efface from my recollection. It was in the year 1818 that I arrived in the vil- lage of Martigny, a few days after that memorable catastrophe, when, by the bursting of its icy mounds, the extensive Lake of Mauvoisin was, in an instant, let loose, pouring forth six hundred millions of cubic feet of water over the peaceful and fruitful valleys of the Drance, with the irresist ible velocity of sixteen miles an hour, carrying before its overwhelming torrent every vestige of civilized life which stood within its impetuous reach. The whole village and its environs exhib- ited a dreary scene of death aiid desolation. The landlord, with many others of his acquaintance and kinsfolk, had been swep~ from their dwelling- places, or perished in their ruins. The wreck of a well-built English carriage occupied part of the inner court-yard, while the body, torn from its springs, had grounded upon a thicket in the field adjacent. The plains through which the treach- erous stream was now winding its wonted course, had all the appearance of a barren desert. Luxu- riant meadows were cosiverted into reservoirs of sand and gravel; and crops nearly ripe for the sickle, were beaten down into masses of corrupting vegetation. Here and there aInorphous piles of trees, beams, carts, stacks, and remnants of every description of building, were hurled against some fragment of rock, or other natural obstacle, form- ing, in many cases, it was too evident, the grave- mound of human victims soddening beneath. On the door of the dilapidated inn, the following ap- peal was attached; but it required no document written by the hand of man to tell the tale of wo: The floods had passed over it, and it was gone, and the place thereof was known no more.~1 AME5 GENEREUSES! Un mouvement de la grande nature vient de changer une contuic fertile et riante en un theatre de d& olation et de la mis~re, par lirruption du lac de Getroz, arrivmie le 16 Juin, 1818. Les victimes de cette catastrophe tendent leurs mains vers vous, images de la Diviimit~ bienfaisante. Quelle occa- sion favorable dexercer votre vertu favorite, et de verser des larmes de plaisir, en tarissant cellos de malbeur! It was impossible to contemplate effects conse- quent upon so awful a visitation, without a corre- sponding excitement of strong curiosity to follow the devastation to its source, and learn, from ocular inspection, the mode in which nature had carried on and completed her dreadful operations. Accor- dingly, having ascertained that although the regu- lar roads, bridgeways, and pathways, were carried away, a circuitous course over the mountains was feasible to the very foot of the Glaciers of Mont Pleureur, which impended over the mouth of the lac de Getroz, a guide was secured, and with him, on the following morning, before sun- rise, I found myself toiling through the pine-woods clothing the steep sides of the mountains to the east of Martigny. It is not, however, my intention to enter into details (though interesting enough in their way) unconnected with the one sole object, which, while I am now writing, hOvers before me like Macbeths dagger, to the exclusion of other things of minor import. Suffice it to say, that as the evening closed, I entered a desolate large scrambling sort of mansion, formerly, as I was given to understand, a convent belonging to some monks of La Trappe; a fact confirmed by sundry portraits of its late gloomy possessors, hung round the dark dismantled chamber in which I was to sleep. The village, of which this mansion had formed a part, had been saved almost by miracle. A strong stone bridge, with some natural embank- ments, gave a momentary cheek to the descending torreiit, which instantly rose, and in another minute must have inevitably swept away all before it, when fortunately the earth on every side gave 44 THE MAUVAIS PAS. 45 way, the ponderous buttresses ot the bridge yield- ed, down it sunk, and gave immediate vent to the cataract. While I was looking towards the heights of Mont Pleureur, on whose crest the spires and pinnacles of the Glacier de Getroz were visible, a stranger joined the owner of the house in which I was lodged, and from their conversation I collected that he, with a companion, had that day visited the scene of action. And you saw it, said the landlord. I did, was the reply. And your companion1 No, for we did not go the lower road, observed the traveller. how so did you take the upper? We did, was the an- swer. Comment donc? mais le Mauvais Pas ? I crossed it, replied the traveller. Mon Dicu ! exclaimed the landlord; and your com- p anion B He saw what it was and returned. Having heard nothing of any extraordinary diffi- culties, I paid no great attention to this dialogue, particularly as I had the warranty of my guide that our course would be on the right bank of the river the whole way; and it was evident, that any thing like this Mauvais Pas of which the host and traveller spoke, was on the heights above the left bank. I therefore retired to rest, in high spirits, notwithstanding the sombre scowling looks of the monks which seemed to glance on me from their heavy black frames, ornamenting the panelled walls of the cheerless dormitory in which my pal- let was stretchedquite sufficient, under other cir- cumstances, to call up the recollection of every ghost and goblin slumbering in the mind, from the earliest traditions of nursery chronicles. As the journey of the day promised, under the most favorable circumstances, to be not only long but fatigning, and as some part of the road was represented to be passable for horses, by which much time and labor might be spared, a couple were hired, and another guide engaged to bring them back; and as we quitted the hostelry at early dawn, the beams of the rising sun were just glanc- ing on the highest peaks of the Glaciers, at whose base our excursion was to terminate. For the first three or four hours, sometimes on the plains, at other times defiling over the heights, according to the obstacles interposed by the recent devasta- tion, we pursued our course without any other in- terest, than that produced by a succession of strik- ing objects, amidst the wildest exhibitions of mountain scenery I ever beheld. At length we descended into a valley of considerable extent, af- fording a flat platform, of what had been hitherto meadow land, though now a wide plain, on whose surface, in every direction, were scattered, in wild confusion, rocks and stones, and uprooted trees of all dimensions, deposited by the torrent, which had now returned to its original channel, through which it was roaring over a bed of broken granite, forming a sort of loose and coarse shingle. This valley, though unconfined towards the west, was apparently closed in towards the east, immediately in our route, by a stupendous barrier of precipitous rock, as if a mountain, impending over the river on our right, had shot forth one of its mighty arms for the purpose of arresting the waters in their progress. On drawing nearer, however, a fissure, extending from the summit to the base, through the very heart of the rock, was perceptible, through which the river rushed in a more confined channel. It naturally occurred to me, that, unless we could pass onwards through this fissure, we had nothing for it but to return; though having, in our morn- ings progress, more than once fordqd the strea~m, I concluded that a similar attempt would be made in the forthcoming case, in which I was confirmed by the two guides. When, however, we drew a little nearer, I remarked, that they looked forward repeatedly with something like an anxious cast of countenance, examining here and there at the same time certain blocks of stone embedded in sniall pools, on which, although there w~s a cominuni- cation with the river, the current had no effect, the communication being so far cut off, as to ex- clude even the slightest ripple. The waters are higher than they were yesterday, said the one. And are rising at this moment, replied the other, who was carefully watching the smooth side of one of these detached blocks, half filling the calm and unruffled surface of one of these diminu- tive lakes. And again, with scrutinizing eyes, they looked forward towards the fissure. Shall we be able to stem the torrent in yonder spot? I asked. We hope so, they hastily answered; but not a moment most be lost ; and, suiting the action to the word, the horses were spurred on to a full trot, the eyes of both being now in- tensely fixed on something evidently in or near the river. IDo you see a dark speck at the foot of the left hand precipice? observed one of the guides to me. I do. Monsieur, continued he, the waters are rising rapidly, by the in- creased melting of the snows; and if that dark stone is covered when we reach the fissure, our passage through the torrent will be hazardous, if not impracticable. From that instant every eye was rivetted to the fragment, which, instead of becoming more marked and visible, as we short- ened the intervening space, very sensibly dimin- ished in size; and, in spite of every effort to urge the horses on, soon ~Iwindled to a speck, and was alniost immediately after, to our great mortifica- tion, entirely lost under a ripple of white foam which broke over its highest point. Ce nest plus n~cessaire davancer; il faut sarreter, said the guides; cest fini. The horses were ac- cordingly reined in. We alighted, and I sat down in despair to secure what I could by sketching the magnificent scene before me ; demanding, in a tone of forlorn hope, if it was indeed impossible to proceed, either by scaling the opposing barrier, or by any other circuitous route. On saying this, they again examined the margin of the river; but it gave no encouraging sign. The white foam had even ceased to break over the hidden stone; a swift blue stream was hurrying over it, and not a token of its existence remained. While I con- tinued my sketch, I observed that they were in earnest conversation~ walking to and fro, now looking back on the road we had travelled, and then casting their eyes upwards to the right; the only words which I could distinctly hear, for they were more than once repeated, being Mais il faut avoir bonue t~tea-t-il bonne t~te ? At length, oiie of them came up, and said, Mon- sieur, il y a un autre chemin, mais cest dange- reuxcest un Mauiais Pas! Avez vous bonne tate. As the correctness of any answer to the conclusion of this address depended much upon divers particulars, and certain other data, which it behoved me to know, I begged him to describe a little more at large the precise nature of this Mau- vais Pas, the ominous term recalling in an instant the words I had heard from the traveller the night before. The result of my inquiry was very vague. That it was high amongst the mountains, and somewhat THE MAIJVA1S PAS. distant, there could be no doubt. That, in order to get to it, we must return, and cross the river below, where, being wider, it might still be ford- ed, were also preliminary steps. The heights on the right were, in the next place, to be gained, and that by no very inviting path, as I could see; but these were not objections calculated to deter me from proceeding, and wherein the real difficul- ty consisted I could not distinctly discover. Is, then, this Mauvais Pas much more steep and diffi- cult than the ascent which you have pointed out amongst those rocks on the rightB Oh, no, was the reply; it is not steep at all; it is on a dead level. Is it, then, very fatiguing 3 Oh, no; it is by no means fatiguing; the ascent which you see before you, is by far the most fa- tIguing part of the whole route. Is it, then, dangerous, owing to broken fragments of rock, or slippery grass 3 for I heard them mutter some- thing about slipping. Oh, no; it was on hard, sAid rock; and, as for grass, there was not a blade upon it. It required but une lonne tate, car si on glisse, on est perdu! This winding up was certainly neither encouraging nor satisfactory; but having so repeatedly heard the danger of these mountain passes magnified, and their difficulties exaggerated, and the vague inforniation above mentioned, saving and except the definitive result, being by no means in itself appalling, I expressed my readiness to try this path, if they had made up their minds to guide me. To this they con- sented; and preparations were instantly made; for, added they, the day is waning, and you will find there is much to be done. We remounted the horses, and hastened back about a mile to a wide part of the river, which we succeeded in fording without much inconvenience; and soon after left them at a spot from whence they could be sent for at leisure. We then turned again to the eastward, and soon reached the foot of the heights on the left bank of the river, form- ing the barrier which had checked us on the other side. Up there we proceeded to mount, pressing onwards through brake and brier, boughs and bushes, to the summit of the ridge. During this part of the task, I endeavored to pick up further particulars respecting the winding up of our ad- venture; but all I could learn was, that, in con- sequence of the suspension of all communication in the valleys below, by the destruction of the roads and bridges, a chamois-hunter had, since the catastrophe, passed over this path, and that some work-people, on their way to repair the bridges, finding it practicable, had (lone the same; but that it had never before been used as a regular communication, and certainly never would again, as none, but from sheer necessity, would ever think of taking advantage of it. But, by way of neutralizing any unfavorable conclusions I might draw from these representations, they both added, that, from what they then saw of my capabilities in the art of climbingfor the road, here and there, required some trifling exertionthey were sure I should do very well, and had no reason to fear. Thus encouraged, I proceeded with confi- dence; and, in the course of rather more than an hours sharp ascent, we attained a more level sur- face in the bosom of a thick forest of pine and underwood, fronted, as far as I could guess from occasional oiimps~s through gaps and intervals, by a grey dull curtain of bare rock. We nrc approaching the Maueais Pus, said one of the guides. Is it as rough as this? said I,fioun-~ dering as I was through hollows of loose stones and bushes. Oh, no; it is as smooth as a foor, was the reply. In a few minutes we shall be on the Pas, said the other, as we began to de- scend on the eastern declivity of the ridge we had been mounting for the last hour. And then, for the first time, I saw below me the valleys of the Drance spread forth like ~ map, and that it re- quired but half-a-dozen tteps at most to have cleared every impediment to my descending amongst them, in an infinitely shorter time than I had expended in mounting to the elevated spot from whence I looked down upon them. And then, too, for the first time, certain misgivings, as to the propriety of going further, and a shrewd guess as to the real nature of the Mauvais Pus, flashed across me, in one of those sudden heart- searching thrills, so perfectly defined in the single word creblinga provincial term, expressing that creeping, paralyzing, twittering, palpitating sort of sensation, which a nervous person might be supposed to feel, if, in exploring a damp and dark dungeon, he l)laced his hand unadvisedly upon some cold and clammy substance, which his im- agination might paint as something too horrible to look at. But whatever were the force and power of these feelings, it was not now the time to let them get the mastership. It was too late to retractI had gone too far to recede. It would have been un- pardonable to have given two Swiss guides an opportunity of publishing throughout the cantons, that an Englishman had flinched, and feared to set his foot where a foreign traveller had trod the day before. On then I went, very uncomfortable, I will candidly confess, but aided and impelled, not- withstanding, by that instinctive sort of wish, common, I believe, to all people, to know the worst in extreme cases. Curiosity, too, had its share not merely excited by the ultimate object for which I was about to venture myself in mid air, but a secret desire to see with my own eyes a pass which had so suddenly and unexpectedly assumed impor- tance in my fate. And after all, though there were very unequivocal symptoms of something terrible in the immediate vicinage of the undefined grey skreen of rock before me, I had as yet no certainty of its appalling realities. For a furlong or two no great change was per- ceptible; there was a plentiful supply of twigs and shrubs to hold by, and the path was not by any means alarming. in short, I began to shake off all uneasiness, and smile at my imaginary fears, when, on turning an angle, I came to an abrupt termination of every thing bordering on twig, bough, pathway, or greensward; and the Mauvams Pus, in all its fearfulness, glared upon me! For a foreground, (if that could be called a foreground, separated, as it was, by a gulf of some fathoms wide,) an unsightly facing of unbroken precipitous rock bearded me on the spot from whence I was l~o take my departure, jutting out sufficiently to con- ceal whatever might be the state of affairs on the other side, round which it was necessary to pass by a narrow ledge like a mantel-piece, on which the first guide had now placed his foot. The dis- tance, however, was inconsiderable, at most a few yards, after which, 1 fondly conjectured we might rejoin a pathway similar to that we were now quit- tin g, and that, in fact, this short but fearful trajet constituted the substance and sum-total of what so richly deserved the title of the Mauvais Pus. Be firm; hold fast, and keep your eye on the rock, 46 THE MAUVAIS PAS. said the guide, as 1, with my heart in my mouth, stept out Is my foot steadily fixed B It is, was the answer; and, with my eyes fixed upon the rock, as if it would have opened under my gaze, and my hands hooked like claws on the slight protuberances within reach, I stole silently and slowly towards the projection, almost without drawing a breath. Having turned this point, and still found myself proceeding, but to what degree, and whether for better or worse, I could not exactly ascertain, as I most pertinaciously continued to look upon the rock, mechanically moving foot after foot with a sort of dogged perseverance, leaving to the leading guide the pleasing task, which I most anxiously expected every moment, of assuring me that the deed was done, and congratulating me on having passed the Mauvais Pas. But he was silent as the gravenot a word escaped his lips; and on, and on, and on did we tread, slowly, cau- tiously, and hesitatingly, for about ten minutes, when I became impatient to learn the extent of our progress, and inquired whether we had nearly reached the other end. Pas encore. Are we half way B A peu pros, were the replies. Gathering up my whole stock of presence of mind, I requested that we might pause awhile, and then, as I deliberately turned my head, the whole of this extraordinary and frightful scenery revealed itself at a glance. Conceive an amphi- theatre of rock forming, throughout, a bare, bar- ren, perpendicular precipice, of I knew not how many hundred feet in height, the two extremities diminishing in altitude as they approached the Drance, which formed the chord of this arc; that on our left constituting the barrier which had im- peded our progress, and which we had just ascend- ed. From the point where we had stepped upon the ledge, quitting the forest and underwood, this circular face of precipice commenced, continuing, without intermission, till it united itself with its corresponding headland on the right. The only communication between the two being along a ledge in the face of the precipice, varying in width from about a foot to a few inches; the surface of the said ledge, moreover, assuming the form of an inclined plane, owing to an accumulation of small particles of rock, which had, from time irnmemo- rial shaled from the heights above, and lodged on this slightly projecting shelf. The distance, from the time taken to pass it, I guessed to be not far short of a quarter of a mile. At my foot, literally speaking, (for it required but a semiquaver of the body, or the loosening of my hold, to throw the centre of gravitation over the abyss,) were spread the valleys of the Dranee, through which I could perceive the river ineanderimig like a silver thread but, from the height at which I looked down, its rapidity was invisil)le, and its hoarse brawling un- heard. The silence was absolute and solemn; for, fortunately, not a zephyr fanned the air, to inter- fere with my precarious equilibrium. There was no inducement for the lesser birds of the fields to warble where we were, and the lam- mner-geyers and the eagles, if any had their eyries amidst these crags, were revelling in the banquet of desolation below. As I looked upon this aw- fully magnificent scene, a rapid train of thoughts succeeded each other. I felt as if I was contem- plating a world I had left, and which I was never again to revisit; for it was impossible not to be keenly impressed with the idea, that something fatal might occur within the space of the next few minutes, effectually preventing my return thither as a living being. Then, again, I saw before me the forms aiid figures of many I had leftsome a few hours, some a few weeks before. Was I to see them again or not? The question again and again repeated itself, and the oftener, perhaps, from a feeling of presumption I experienced in even whispering to myself that I decidedly should. Si on glisse, on est perdu ! hi~w horribly for- cible and true did these words itow appear,on what a slender thread was life held! A trifling deviation in the position of a foot, and it was over. I had but to make one single step in advance, and I was in another state of existence. Such were a few of the mental feelings which suggested themselves, hut others of a physical nature occur- red. I had eat nothing since leaving the old con- vent, and the keen air on the mountains had so sharpened my appetite, that by the time I had reached the summit we had just quitted, I felt not only a good deal exhausted, but extremely hungry. But hunger, thirst, and fatigue, followed me not on the ledge. A feast would have had no charm, and miles upon a level road would have been as nothing. Every sense seemed absorbed in getting to the end; and yet, in the midst of this unenvia- ble position, a trifling incident occurred, which actually, for the time, gave rise to somethiiig of a pleasurable sensation. About midway I espied, in a chink of the ledge, the beautiful and dazzling blossom of the little gentiana nivalis, and stopping the guides while I gathered it, I expressed great satisfaction in meeting with this lovely little flower on such a lonely spot. And I could scarcely help smiling at the simplicity of these honest people, who, from that moment, whenever the difficulties increased, endeavored to divert my attention, by pointing out or iooking for another specimen. We had proceeded good part of the way, when, to my dismay, the ledge, narrow as it was, became per- ceptibly narrower, and, at the distance of a yard or two in advance, I observed a point where it seemed to run to nothing, interrupted by a protu- berant rock. I said nothing, waiting the result in silence. The guide before me, when he reached the point, threw one foot round the projection, till it was firmly placed, and holding on the rock, then brought up the other.What was I to do? Like Arthur Philipsons guide, Antonia, I could only say, I was no goat-hunter, and had no wings to transport me from cliff to cliff like a raven.~ I cannot perform that feat, said I to time guide; I shall miss the invisible footing on the other side, andthen ! They were prepared for the case; omie of them happened to have a short staff; this was handed forward, and formed a slight rail, while the other, stooping down, seized my foot, and placing it in his hand, answered, Tread without apprehension, it will support you firmly as the rock itself; be steadygo on. I did so, and regained the ledge once more in safety. Time pos- sible repetition of such an exploit was not by any means to my taste, and I ventured to question the foremost guide as to the chance of its recurrence, and the difficulties yet in store. Without pretend- ing to disguise them, he proceeded to dilate upon the portion of our p~regrination still in reserve, when the other interrupted him impatiently, and in Freimeb instead of Patois, (forgetting, in his anxiety to enjoin silence, that I understood every word he uttered,) exclaimed, Not a word more, I entreat you. Speak not to him of danger; this is not the place to excite alarm; it is our business to cheer and animate ; and in the true spirit of his advice, 47 THE MATJVAIS PAS. he immediately pointed to a bunch of little gen- tians, exclaiming, Eh, donc, quelles sont jolies Regardez ces charmantes fleurs! Long before I had accomplished half the distance, and had form- ed a correct opinion as to what remained in hand, the propriety of turning back had more than once suggested itself; l)ut on looking round, the narrow- ness of the shelf already passed presented so revolting an appearance, that what with the risk to be incurred in the very act of turning about, and forming any thing like a pirouette in my pres- ent position, added to an almost insurmountable unwillingness to recede, for the reasons above mentioned, and the chance that, as it could not well be worse, the remainder might possibly be better, I decided on going on, estimating every additional inch as a valuable accession of space, with a secret proviso, however, in my own mind, that nothing on earth should induce me to return the same way, notwithstanding the declaration of the guides that they knew of no other line, unless a bridge, which was impassable yesterday, had been made passable to-day; and we knew the people were at work, for a man had gone before us with an axe over his shoulder. Thus persevering with the speed of a tortoise or a sloth, the solemn slow movements of hand and foot forcibly reminding me of that cautious animal, we at last drew near to a more acute point in the curve of this gaunt amphitheatre, where it bent forward towards the river, and consequently we were more immediately fronted by the preci- pice forming the continuation of that on which we Mood. By keeping my head obliquely turned inwards, I had hitherto in great measure avoided more visual communication than I wished with the birds-eye prospect below; but there was no pos- sibility of excluding the smooth bare frontage of rock right ahead. There it reared itself from the clods beneath to the clouds above, without out- ward or visible sign of fret or fissure, as far as I could judge, on which even a chamois could rest its tiny hoof; for the width of whatever ledge it might have was diminished, by the perspective view we had of it, to Euclids true definition of the mathematical line, namely, length without breadth. At this distance of time, I have no very clear recollection of the mode of our exit, and cannot speak positively as to whether we skirted any part of this perilous wall of the Titans, or crept up through the corner of the curve, by some fissure leading to the summit. I have, however, a very clear and agreeable recollection of the mo- ment when I came in contact with a tough bough, which I welcomed and grasped as I would have welcomed and grasped the hand of the dearest friend I had upon earth, and by the help of which I, in a very few more seconds scrambled upwards, and set my foot once more, without fear of slips or sliding on a rough heathery surface, forming the bed of a ravine, which soon led us to an upland plateau, on which I stood as in the garden of par- adise. In talking over our adventure, one of the guides mentioned a curious circumstance that had occur- red either to himself or a brother guide, I forget which, in the course of their practice. He was escorting a traveller over a rather dizzy height, when the unfortunate tourists head failed, and he fainted on the spot. Whereupon the mountaineer, a strong muscular man, with great presence of mind; took up his charge, threw him over his shoulder, and cooly walked away with him till he came to a place of safety, where he deposited his burden, and awaited the return of sense; but, added he, had such a misfortune occurred on the Mauvais Pas, you must have submitted to your fate; the ledge was too narrow for exertion,we could have done nothing. We were now not much more than a league from our original destinntion~ a space of which, whether fair or foul, I camfot speak with much precision, so entirely was every thought and sense engrossed in the business which had occupied so large a portion of the last hour. It is merely necessary to inform the reader, that at the expira- tion of a given time, I stood before the ruins of a stupendous mound formed of condensed masses of snow and ice, hurled down froni above by the im~ perceptible but gradual advancement of the great Glacier of Getroz, nursed in a gorge beneath the summit of Mont Pleureur. Not a moment passed without the fall of thundering avalanches, bound- ing from rock to rock, till their shattered frag- ments, floundering down the inclined plane of snow, finally precipitated themselves into the bed of the channel through which the emancipated Lao de Mauvoisin had, in the brief space of half an hour, rushed, after it had succeeded in corroding the excavated galleries, and blown up in an instant its icy barrier. Seated on a knoll immediately fronting the stage on which this grand scenery was represented, we rested for some time, during which we were joined by one or two of the workmen employed in repair- ing the roads and bridge to which the guides had alluded; and the first question asked was, Pent on le traverser No direct answer followed; it was evidently, therefore, a matter of doubt, re- quiring at least some discussion, during which, although the parties conversed in an under-tone, I again heard, more than once, the disagreeable re- petition of Mais, a-t-il bonne tate B and a refer- enc~ was finally made to me. It seems the bridge had been completely destroyed, but some people had that morning availed themselves of the com- inencement of a temporary accommodation, then in a state of preparation, and had crossed the chasm; and provided Monsieur had a honne tate, there was no danger in following their example. Hesitation was out of the question; for whatever might be the possible extent of risk, in duration and degree it clearly could bear no comparison with the Mauvais Pas, the discomfiting sensations of which were still too fresh in my recollection to indulge a thought of encountering them a second time in the same day. I therefore decided on the bridge without more ado, coute qai coute; and as we descended towards the river, I had soon the pleasure of seeing it far below me, and plenty of time to make up my mind as to the best mode of ferrying myself over. Of the original arch not a vestige remained; but across two buttresses of natural rock I could distinguish something like a tight rope, at the two extremities of which little moving things, no bigger than mites, were bustling about, and now and then I could perceive one or two of these diminutive monocules venturing upon this apparently frail line of communication. A nearer view afforded no additional encouragements At a depth of ninety feet below roared the Drm~mce, foaming and dashing with inconceivable violence against its two adamantine abutments, which here confined the channel within a space of about thirty or forty feet. From rock to rock, athwart the gulf, two pine poles had that morning been thrown, 48 FRENCH COOKERY. not yet rivetted together, but loosely resting side by side. It certainly was not half As full of peril, and adv-entrons spirit, As to oerwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsieadfast footing of a spear ; but it was, notwithstanding, a very comfortless piece of footing to contemplate. Ye mariners of England, who think nothing of laying out on a topsail yard to pass an earing* in a gale of wind, ought have smiled at such a sight, and crossed merrily over, without the vibration of a nerve; but let it be recollected, as a balance for a landsmans fears, that these two spars were neither furnished with accommodating jack-stays, supporting foot- ropes, nor encircling gaskets, to which the outlayer might cling in case of emergence. There they rested, one edge on each projecting promontory of the chasm, in all their hare nakedness. In the morning, I might have paused to look before I leaped; but what were forty or fifty feet of pine vaulting, in comparison with the protracted misery of a quarter of a mile of the Mauvais Pas? So forthwith committing myself to their support, on hands, and knees I crawled along, and in a few minutes trode again on terra firma, beyond the reach of further risk, rejoicing, and, I trust, not ungrateful for the perils I had escaped. From the London l~1agazine. ON THE COOKERY OF THE FRENCH. Of Anthropophagi, and men whose heads lb grow beneath their shouldersOthello. To the Editor of time London Magazine. SIR,I am an alderman and button-maker in the city, and I have a taste for sea-coal fires, porter, roast-beef, and the LosnoN MAGAZINE. My son Bob, and my daughter Fanny, on the contrary, used to dislike all these good thingsthe last ex- cepted: and prevailed with me to go and spend a month or two in Paris in the spring of this year. I knew that my son loved me as well as French cookery-and my daughter nearly as well as a French gown: so I unfortunately and affectionate- ly complied with their desireand have repented it ever since. however, my journey has not been altogether thrown away, as it has reconverte.d Bob to beef, and as it gives me an opportunity of rela- ting the wonders of French cookerya matter which in all your articles upon the French you have unaccountably neglected. The subject strikes me as highly important in all points of view: and it is a favorite theory of mine that the manners and tastes of a nation may be known from their cookery even better than from the bumps on their heads. The French Revolution was no doubt brought about by the national fondness for necks of mutton and men ~ 1, ecarlale: and the national hatred to the English is still visible in their at- tempts to poison them with their dishes a con- summation not at all to my taste, even with the * The technical term for an operation necessary in reeLing topsails. I. LIVING AGE. 4 prospect of being buried in P& e la Chaise. As for me, I am a plain man, alderman and button-maker, and should prefer being interred in Alderrnanbury. It has long been the reproach of the French, and yuu are among those wlso have echoed it, that they are not a poetical people. But at least their cooks are. Must not a cook, Mr. Editor, be inflamed with the double fires of the kit~hen and poetry, wher~ he conceives tlse idea of fountains of love, starry anniseed, capons wings in the sun, and eggs blushing like Aurorafollowed (alas! what a terrible declension !) by eggs ~/la Tripe? I con- sider their beef in scarlet, their sauce in half mourning, and their white virgin beans, as exam- ples of the same warm and culinary fancy.* Their ingenuity is sometimes shown in the in- vention of new dishes, as well as in the epithets they attach to themanother poetical symptom. Not to say any thing of the vulgar platcs of frogs, nettles, and thistles, what genius there is in the conception of a dish of breeches in the royal fash- ion, with velvet saucetendons of veal in a pea- cocks tailand a shoulder of mutton in a balloon or a bagpipe! Sometimes their names are so fan- ciful as to be totally incomprehensible, especially if you look for them in a dictionary: such as a palace of beef in Cracoviastrawberries of veal the amorous smiles of a calfa fleet with tonsata sauceand eggs in a looking-glass.~ But there are many of their dishes which are monstrous; and in my mind suot only prove the French capability of eating poisons, but their strong tendency to cannibalism. G~,eat and little aspsfowls done like lizardshares like serpents and pigeons like toads or baeilisksare all fa- vorite dishes: as are also a hash of huntsmen, a stew of good Christians, a mouthful of ladies, thin Spanish women, and four beggars on a plate. One of their most famous sauces is sauce Robert, which I remember to have read of in Fairy Tales as the sauce with which the Ogres used to eat chil- dren. My daughter found one (hish on the carte which alarmed us ahlEglefln 7m Ia hollandaise: and after trying a long time, she remembered it was something like the name of somebody of whom she had taken lessons of memory. I suppose they had taken the poor devil from his name to be a Dutchman, and had accordingly drest him ~m la fbi- landaise.t They like liver of veal done to choke you, and pullets like ivoryso called, I suppose, from their * Puits damou~r.Anis etrdid.A.iles rho poularde an Soleil.fEnfs h lAurore.Bceuf ~, l6carlate.Sauce en petit denilHaricoms Viorges. t Culoite lu la Royale, sauce velout6.Tendons do roan en queue de paon.Epnule de mouton en balton, en musettePalais do Lcouf en CracovieFraises do veau.Ris do roan en amouretieFlotte, sauce Tomate.(Eufs au miroir. ~ Grand 01 petit AspicPnulet en l6zard.Ls~vre en serpentPigeon ?s Ia Crapaudine, en basilicSalmi de ChasseursCompote d~ bons Chrctiens.Bouch~e do Dames.Espagnoles sssai~mss~Quamre mendians..

FRENCH COOKERY. not yet rivetted together, but loosely resting side by side. It certainly was not half As full of peril, and adv-entrons spirit, As to oerwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsieadfast footing of a spear ; but it was, notwithstanding, a very comfortless piece of footing to contemplate. Ye mariners of England, who think nothing of laying out on a topsail yard to pass an earing* in a gale of wind, ought have smiled at such a sight, and crossed merrily over, without the vibration of a nerve; but let it be recollected, as a balance for a landsmans fears, that these two spars were neither furnished with accommodating jack-stays, supporting foot- ropes, nor encircling gaskets, to which the outlayer might cling in case of emergence. There they rested, one edge on each projecting promontory of the chasm, in all their hare nakedness. In the morning, I might have paused to look before I leaped; but what were forty or fifty feet of pine vaulting, in comparison with the protracted misery of a quarter of a mile of the Mauvais Pas? So forthwith committing myself to their support, on hands, and knees I crawled along, and in a few minutes trode again on terra firma, beyond the reach of further risk, rejoicing, and, I trust, not ungrateful for the perils I had escaped. From the London l~1agazine. ON THE COOKERY OF THE FRENCH. Of Anthropophagi, and men whose heads lb grow beneath their shouldersOthello. To the Editor of time London Magazine. SIR,I am an alderman and button-maker in the city, and I have a taste for sea-coal fires, porter, roast-beef, and the LosnoN MAGAZINE. My son Bob, and my daughter Fanny, on the contrary, used to dislike all these good thingsthe last ex- cepted: and prevailed with me to go and spend a month or two in Paris in the spring of this year. I knew that my son loved me as well as French cookery-and my daughter nearly as well as a French gown: so I unfortunately and affectionate- ly complied with their desireand have repented it ever since. however, my journey has not been altogether thrown away, as it has reconverte.d Bob to beef, and as it gives me an opportunity of rela- ting the wonders of French cookerya matter which in all your articles upon the French you have unaccountably neglected. The subject strikes me as highly important in all points of view: and it is a favorite theory of mine that the manners and tastes of a nation may be known from their cookery even better than from the bumps on their heads. The French Revolution was no doubt brought about by the national fondness for necks of mutton and men ~ 1, ecarlale: and the national hatred to the English is still visible in their at- tempts to poison them with their dishes a con- summation not at all to my taste, even with the * The technical term for an operation necessary in reeLing topsails. I. LIVING AGE. 4 prospect of being buried in P& e la Chaise. As for me, I am a plain man, alderman and button-maker, and should prefer being interred in Alderrnanbury. It has long been the reproach of the French, and yuu are among those wlso have echoed it, that they are not a poetical people. But at least their cooks are. Must not a cook, Mr. Editor, be inflamed with the double fires of the kit~hen and poetry, wher~ he conceives tlse idea of fountains of love, starry anniseed, capons wings in the sun, and eggs blushing like Aurorafollowed (alas! what a terrible declension !) by eggs ~/la Tripe? I con- sider their beef in scarlet, their sauce in half mourning, and their white virgin beans, as exam- ples of the same warm and culinary fancy.* Their ingenuity is sometimes shown in the in- vention of new dishes, as well as in the epithets they attach to themanother poetical symptom. Not to say any thing of the vulgar platcs of frogs, nettles, and thistles, what genius there is in the conception of a dish of breeches in the royal fash- ion, with velvet saucetendons of veal in a pea- cocks tailand a shoulder of mutton in a balloon or a bagpipe! Sometimes their names are so fan- ciful as to be totally incomprehensible, especially if you look for them in a dictionary: such as a palace of beef in Cracoviastrawberries of veal the amorous smiles of a calfa fleet with tonsata sauceand eggs in a looking-glass.~ But there are many of their dishes which are monstrous; and in my mind suot only prove the French capability of eating poisons, but their strong tendency to cannibalism. G~,eat and little aspsfowls done like lizardshares like serpents and pigeons like toads or baeilisksare all fa- vorite dishes: as are also a hash of huntsmen, a stew of good Christians, a mouthful of ladies, thin Spanish women, and four beggars on a plate. One of their most famous sauces is sauce Robert, which I remember to have read of in Fairy Tales as the sauce with which the Ogres used to eat chil- dren. My daughter found one (hish on the carte which alarmed us ahlEglefln 7m Ia hollandaise: and after trying a long time, she remembered it was something like the name of somebody of whom she had taken lessons of memory. I suppose they had taken the poor devil from his name to be a Dutchman, and had accordingly drest him ~m la fbi- landaise.t They like liver of veal done to choke you, and pullets like ivoryso called, I suppose, from their * Puits damou~r.Anis etrdid.A.iles rho poularde an Soleil.fEnfs h lAurore.Bceuf ~, l6carlate.Sauce en petit denilHaricoms Viorges. t Culoite lu la Royale, sauce velout6.Tendons do roan en queue de paon.Epnule de mouton en balton, en musettePalais do Lcouf en CracovieFraises do veau.Ris do roan en amouretieFlotte, sauce Tomate.(Eufs au miroir. ~ Grand 01 petit AspicPnulet en l6zard.Ls~vre en serpentPigeon ?s Ia Crapaudine, en basilicSalmi de ChasseursCompote d~ bons Chrctiens.Bouch~e do Dames.Espagnoles sssai~mss~Quamre mendians.. FRENCH COORERY. toughness and hardness. Other dishes are, on the contrary, quite shadowy and unsubstantial: such as an embrace of a bare on the spitpartridges shoe-solesa dart and a leap of salmonthe breath of a rosea whole jonquilor biscuits that would have done honor to the Barmecides feast.* The French have a way of serving up their dishes which is as extraordinary as the rest. What should we think of whitings in turbanssmelts in dice boxesa skate buckled to capersgooseber- ries in their shifts, and potatoes in their shirts ? Should we not think any Englishman very filthy whose cook should send up cutlets in hair-papers truffles in ashesand squirted seed-cakes 2and whose dinner-hell should announce to us what they call a ding-dong in a daub If The military dispositions of the French are dis- coverable even in their cookery. They have large and small bulletscarbonadoes innumerablesyr- up of grenadesand quails in laurels: and I have often heard dishes called for, which sounded to my ea~ very like ramrods for strangling, and bay- onets for the gendarmes.$ But I may easily have been mistakeii in French words, when I cant understand what they call English onessome of which seem to have under- gone as complete a change by crossing the Chan- nel, as most of our country-women. Who could recognize, for example, in wouciclic rabette, Isoche- pot, panequet, misies pa~s, plomboudine, or maclie potetesse, the primal and delightful sounds of Welch rabbit, hotch-potch, pancake, mince-pies, plumb-pudding, and mashed potatoes? But the French seem fond of far-fetched dishes: they get their thistles from Spain, and their cabbages from Brussels, and their artichokes from Barbary in Turkish turbans.~, The French boast that their language is the clearest in the world. I should like to know what they mean by a skate fried raw, or big little peach- es ? I can easily comprehend mouton 1 la Gas- conne, however: and an epigramme dagneau is as insipid as a French epigram always is. As I have got a corner of my paper still blank, my son Bob begs me to let him spoil it with a few verses which he says are German to French cook- try: I therefore hasten to conclude my epistle with the expression of my best wishes, and the * Vean k l6touffade.Poulets is livoireAccolade de litivre is la BrocheSemelles de PerdrixUne darde et un sauth de SaumonSouffle de roseUne jonquille ~nti~re.Biscusts manqu~s. t Mo~lnns en turhan.Eperlans en CornetsRaje houcl~e aux cispresGroseilles at pommes de terre en chemiseCotelettes en papillotes.Truffes is la con- clreMassepains seringustsDindon en daube. Gins et potits boulotsCarbonades de mouton, & c Sirop do grenadesCailles aux lauriers. In the last two names our worthy correspondent probably alludes to L~amereaux is P~toutfade, and Beignets is la gendarme. Cardons dEspagne.Choux de BruxallesArti- .ahauts de Barbarie en bonnet de Turc. II Raic frite is ~r~i.P~ches grosses-mignonnes. assurance that I am, with great esteem and re~ spect, Sir, your very obedient humble servant, TIMOTHY WALKINSHAW, Button-maker and Alderman. Aldermanbury. bE CUISINIER FRAN~A1S vers~~s DR. KITCHINER. It has often been printed in books, And I m going to say it once more, That the French are a nation of cooks, Though I never believed it before. But now I can make it quite clear For who but the devils own legion Would stew down a virgin, as here, And broil out a good Christians religion! They say that John Bull oer his beef And his beer is a terrible glutton: Does he eat toads and osps, or the leaf Or the roots of an oak with his mutton? Do serpents or basilisks crawl From his kitchen to lie on his table? Or lizards or cats does he call By all the lost nicknames of Babel ?f We like our Beef-eaters in scarlet, Not our beefnor the sauce in half-mourning: We dont eat a Fanny or Charlotte, Nor a monthful of ladies each morning (This it shocks all my senses to utter, Yet with Holy Writ truths you may rank it:) And they eat a Ilay fried in black butter, And can make a meal on afowl blanket4 If we dont lilce our beef in balloons, Or a shoulder of lamb in a bagpipe; Sweet wolves teeth, or twin macaroons, Or truffles which they with a rag wipe: If we dont look for eggs of Aurora, Nor sheeps tails prepared in the sun; And prefer a boild cod far before a Tounk skate which is only half done :~ If we dont want our veal done to choke us, Nor ivory fowls on our dish: If gendarines in all shapes should provoke us, * Bob calls cooks the devils own legion, from the well-known fact of their being sent from even a hotter place than they occupy upon earth. He alludes in the last part of the verse to the kind of bean called vierge, which the French stew, and to the hon Chrhtien grill6. t Pigeons is la crapandineAspic do veau.Feuille- tageTendons do mouton nux raeines.Li~vre en serpentPigeon en basilic.Poulet en ldzard.Civet do lihvre. ~ Bmnf is licarlatoSauce en petit douilFanehon- nettesChariotte do pommes.Bouch6e do Dames, a kind of caheRaio an beurre noirBlanquette do volaillo. Bmuf en ballonEpaule da5 ean on musette Dents do loup, a rort ~,f bkscait.Mncarons jumeaux.. Truffes is la Sorviette.(Eufs is lAurore.{~ueues de mouton an SoleilRaic finite is cru. 50 THE NILEITS SOURCES1 & C. 51 And we like Harveys sauce with our fish: have a whole kingdom risen, like Aphrodite, from If mutton and airs it la Gasconne the wave. Dont agree with the stomachs at all The sources of the Nile are as much involved in Of EnglishmenQ need I ask one ? mystery as cvery thing else connected with this Let us cut Monsieur Verys, and Gaul.* strange country. rrhe statue, under which it was represented, was carved out of Jdack marble, to denote its Ethiopian origin, b~~t crowned with From the Dublin University Magazine. thorns, to symbolize the difficulty of approaching THE NILE. its fountain-head. It reposed appropriately on a THE NILEITS CREATIONITS SOURCESITS iM- sphinx, the type of enigtnas, and dolphins and PORTANCEITS INUNDATIONITS STATISTICS crocodiles disported at its feet. In early ages, ITS BATTLE. caput qu~rere Nih B was equivalent to our ex- pression of seeking the philosophers stone, or The Nile! the Nile! I hear its gathering roar, interest on Pennsylvanian bonds. The pursuit has No vision now, no dream of ancient years Thinned on the rocks amid the watery war baffled the scrutiny and self-devotion of modem The King of Floods, old Homers Nile appears. enterprise, as effectually as it did the inquisitive- With gentle smile, majestically sweet, Curbing the billowy steeds that vex them at his feet. ness of ancient despots, and the theories of ancient Loan LINOSAY. philosophers. Alexander and Ptolemy sent expe The spirit of our fathers dltions in search of lt. Herodotus gave it up; Shall start from every wave; Pomponius Mela brought it from the antipodes, For the deck it was their field of fame. Pliny from Mauritania, and Homer from heaven. And ocean was their grave~ This last theory, if not the most satisfactory, is, at CAMPBELL. least, the most incontrovertible, and sounds better EGYPT is the gift of the Nile. said onet who than the Meadows of Geesh, where Bruce thought was bewildered by its antiquity before our history he had detected its infancy in the fountains of the was born(at least he is called the father of it.) Blue River. This was only a foundling, however; A bountiful gift it was, that the strange, mys- a mere tributary stream; the naiads of the Nile terious, solitary stream bore down in its bosom are as virgin as ever. I have conversed wiih from the luxuriant tropics to the desert. For slave-dealers who were familiar with Abyssinia, many an hour have I stood upon the city-crowning as far as the Galla country, and still their infor- citadel of Cairo, and gazed unweariedly on the mation was bounded by the vague word, south scene of matchless beauty and wonder that lay still from the south gushed the great river. stretched beneath my view. Cities and ruins of This much is certain, that from the junction of cities, palm-forests and green savannahs, gardens, the Taccaze or Astaboras, the Nile runs a course and palaces, and groves of olive. On one side, the of upwards of twelve hundred miles, to the sea, boundless desert, with its pyramids; on the other, without one tributary stream exemple, as the land of Goshen, with its luxuriant plains, Huenboldt says, unique dans lhistoire hydro~ stretching far away to the horizon. Yet this is an graphique du globe. During this career it is exotic land! That river, winding like a serpent exposed to the evaporation of a burning sun, through its paradise, has brought it from far drawn off into a thousand canals, absorbed by regions, unknown to man. That strange and porous and thirsty banks, drank by every living richly-varied panorama has had a long voyage of thing, from the crocodile to the pasha, from the it! Those quiet plains have tumbled down the papyrus to the palm-tree; and yet, strange to say, cataracts; those demure gardens have flirted with it seems to pour into the sea a wider stream than the Isle of Floxvers,t five hundred miles away; it displays between the cataracts a thousand miles and those very pyramids have floated down the away. The Nile is all in all to the Egyptian: if waves of the Nile. In short, to speak chemically, it withheld its waters for a week, his country that river is a solution of Ethiopias richest regions, would become a desert; it waters and manures and that vast country is merely a precipitate. At his fields, it supplies his harvest, and then carries PHstum one sees the remnant of a city elaborated off their produce to the sea; he drinks of it, he from mountain streams; the Temple of Neptune fishes in it, he travels on it; it is his slave, and came down from the Calabrian Hills, by water; used to he his god. Egyptian mythology recog- and the Forum, like Deinosthenes, prepared itself nized in it the Creative Principle, and, very poeti- for its tumult-scorning destiny among the dash of cally, engaged it in eternal war with the desert, torrents, and the crash of rocks ;~ but here we under the name of, Typhon, or the destructive principle. Divine honors were paid to this aque * Veau ~ l~touffade.Poulots ~ livoire.Noix de ous deity; and it is whispered among mytholo veau ~ la gendarme.Mouton it la Gasconne. gists, that the hearts-blood of a virgin was yearly t Herodotus. , t unlikely, in a country I Elephantina. added to its stream no For an account of the formation of the travertine, of where they worshipped crocodiles, and were anx- which Pmustum was built, see Sir Humphreys beautiful ious to constilt their feelings. and imaginative Last Days of a Philosopher. The Arab looks upon all men as aliens wh~

THE NILEITS SOURCES1 & C. 51 And we like Harveys sauce with our fish: have a whole kingdom risen, like Aphrodite, from If mutton and airs it la Gasconne the wave. Dont agree with the stomachs at all The sources of the Nile are as much involved in Of EnglishmenQ need I ask one ? mystery as cvery thing else connected with this Let us cut Monsieur Verys, and Gaul.* strange country. rrhe statue, under which it was represented, was carved out of Jdack marble, to denote its Ethiopian origin, b~~t crowned with From the Dublin University Magazine. thorns, to symbolize the difficulty of approaching THE NILE. its fountain-head. It reposed appropriately on a THE NILEITS CREATIONITS SOURCESITS iM- sphinx, the type of enigtnas, and dolphins and PORTANCEITS INUNDATIONITS STATISTICS crocodiles disported at its feet. In early ages, ITS BATTLE. caput qu~rere Nih B was equivalent to our ex- pression of seeking the philosophers stone, or The Nile! the Nile! I hear its gathering roar, interest on Pennsylvanian bonds. The pursuit has No vision now, no dream of ancient years Thinned on the rocks amid the watery war baffled the scrutiny and self-devotion of modem The King of Floods, old Homers Nile appears. enterprise, as effectually as it did the inquisitive- With gentle smile, majestically sweet, Curbing the billowy steeds that vex them at his feet. ness of ancient despots, and the theories of ancient Loan LINOSAY. philosophers. Alexander and Ptolemy sent expe The spirit of our fathers dltions in search of lt. Herodotus gave it up; Shall start from every wave; Pomponius Mela brought it from the antipodes, For the deck it was their field of fame. Pliny from Mauritania, and Homer from heaven. And ocean was their grave~ This last theory, if not the most satisfactory, is, at CAMPBELL. least, the most incontrovertible, and sounds better EGYPT is the gift of the Nile. said onet who than the Meadows of Geesh, where Bruce thought was bewildered by its antiquity before our history he had detected its infancy in the fountains of the was born(at least he is called the father of it.) Blue River. This was only a foundling, however; A bountiful gift it was, that the strange, mys- a mere tributary stream; the naiads of the Nile terious, solitary stream bore down in its bosom are as virgin as ever. I have conversed wiih from the luxuriant tropics to the desert. For slave-dealers who were familiar with Abyssinia, many an hour have I stood upon the city-crowning as far as the Galla country, and still their infor- citadel of Cairo, and gazed unweariedly on the mation was bounded by the vague word, south scene of matchless beauty and wonder that lay still from the south gushed the great river. stretched beneath my view. Cities and ruins of This much is certain, that from the junction of cities, palm-forests and green savannahs, gardens, the Taccaze or Astaboras, the Nile runs a course and palaces, and groves of olive. On one side, the of upwards of twelve hundred miles, to the sea, boundless desert, with its pyramids; on the other, without one tributary stream exemple, as the land of Goshen, with its luxuriant plains, Huenboldt says, unique dans lhistoire hydro~ stretching far away to the horizon. Yet this is an graphique du globe. During this career it is exotic land! That river, winding like a serpent exposed to the evaporation of a burning sun, through its paradise, has brought it from far drawn off into a thousand canals, absorbed by regions, unknown to man. That strange and porous and thirsty banks, drank by every living richly-varied panorama has had a long voyage of thing, from the crocodile to the pasha, from the it! Those quiet plains have tumbled down the papyrus to the palm-tree; and yet, strange to say, cataracts; those demure gardens have flirted with it seems to pour into the sea a wider stream than the Isle of Floxvers,t five hundred miles away; it displays between the cataracts a thousand miles and those very pyramids have floated down the away. The Nile is all in all to the Egyptian: if waves of the Nile. In short, to speak chemically, it withheld its waters for a week, his country that river is a solution of Ethiopias richest regions, would become a desert; it waters and manures and that vast country is merely a precipitate. At his fields, it supplies his harvest, and then carries PHstum one sees the remnant of a city elaborated off their produce to the sea; he drinks of it, he from mountain streams; the Temple of Neptune fishes in it, he travels on it; it is his slave, and came down from the Calabrian Hills, by water; used to he his god. Egyptian mythology recog- and the Forum, like Deinosthenes, prepared itself nized in it the Creative Principle, and, very poeti- for its tumult-scorning destiny among the dash of cally, engaged it in eternal war with the desert, torrents, and the crash of rocks ;~ but here we under the name of, Typhon, or the destructive principle. Divine honors were paid to this aque * Veau ~ l~touffade.Poulots ~ livoire.Noix de ous deity; and it is whispered among mytholo veau ~ la gendarme.Mouton it la Gasconne. gists, that the hearts-blood of a virgin was yearly t Herodotus. , t unlikely, in a country I Elephantina. added to its stream no For an account of the formation of the travertine, of where they worshipped crocodiles, and were anx- which Pmustum was built, see Sir Humphreys beautiful ious to constilt their feelings. and imaginative Last Days of a Philosopher. The Arab looks upon all men as aliens wh~ 52 were not fortunate enough to be horn beside the Nile ; and the traveller is soon talked into a belief that it affords the most delicious water in the world. Ship-loads of it are annually sent to Con- stantinople, where it is in great request, not only on epicurean, but anti-Malthusian grounds. The natives dignify their beloved river with the title of El Bahr, the sea, and pass one-third of their lives in watching the flow, and the remainder in watching the ebb of its mighty tide. The inun- dation begins in May, attains its full height in August, and thenceforth diminishes, until freshly swollca in the following year. The stream is economized within its channel until it reaches Egypt, when it spreads abroad over the vast val- ley. Then it is that the country presents the most striking of its Protean aspects: it becomes an archipelago, studded with green islands, and bounded only by the chain of the Lybian hills and the purple range of the Mokattam Mountains. Every island is crowned with a village, or an antique temple, and shadowy with palm-trees, or acacia groves. Every city becomes a Venice, and the bazaars display their richest arid gayest cloths and tapestries to the illuminations that are reflected from the streaming streets. The earth is sheltered from the burning sun under the cool, bright veil of waters; the labor of the husbaudman is sus- pended: it is the season of universal festivity. Boatmen alone are busy; but it would seem to be pleasant business, for the sound of music is never silent beneath those large, white, wing-like sails, that now glitter in the moonlight, and now gleam ruddily, reflecting the fragrant watchfires on the deck. In one place you come upon a floating fair, held in boats, flushed with painted lanterns, and fluttering with gay flags. In another, a bridal procession is gliding by, as her friends convey some bride, with mirth and music, to her bride- groom. On one island you find a shawled and turbaned group of bearded men, smoking their chibouques and sipping coffee. On another a merry band of Arab girls is dancing to the music of their own wild song. And then, perhaps, with the lotus flower Wreathed in the midnight of their hair, or the light garment, that scarce concealed their graceful forms, folded as a turban, they swim from grove to grove, the quiet lake scarce rippling round their dark bosoms. Great part of this picture is of rare occurrence, howeverthe inundation seldom rising to a height greater than what is necessary for purposes of irrigation, and presenting, alas! rather the appear- ance of a swamp than of an archipelago. As the waters retire, vegetation seems to exude from every pore. Previous to its bath, the coun- try, like Pelias, looked shrivelled, and faded, and worn out: a few days after it, old Egypt looks as good as new, wrapped in a richly green mantle embroidered with flowers. As the Nile has every THE NILEITS SOURCES. & C. thing his own way throughout his wide domains, he is capricious in proportion, and gives spring ii October, and autumn in February. Another curi- ous freak of his is to make his bed in the highest part of the great valley through which he runs; this bed is a sort of savings-bank, by means of which the deposits of four tl!ousand years have enabled it to rise in the world, and to run along a causeway of its own. This sloping away from the rivers edge materi- ally facilitates the irrigation of the country, in which 50,000 oxen, and at least double that num- ber of men are perpetually employed. As I shall have frequent occasions to return to the Nile, in speaking of the commerce, the agriculture, and the mode of travblliu~ in Egypt, I shall only add here, the following statistics from the report of M. Linant, the pashas chief engineer. At low water it pours into the sea, by the Rosetta mouth, 79,- 532,551,728by the IX mietta, 71,033,840,640 cubic metres, in every twenty-four hours, making a total of 150,566,392,368. At high water, by the Rosetta branch, 478,317,838,960by the Dami- etta, 227,196,828,480total, 705,514,667,440. The elevation of its waters below the first cata- ract, i. e. 250 leagues from its embrochure, is 543 French feet above the level of the Mediterranean; it runs at the rate of about three miles an hour during its flood, and two during its low x~ater The deposit of the river, of which the country ii~ composed, yields by analysis, 3-Sths of alumina, 1-5th of carbonate of lime, 1-20th of oxyde of iron (which communicates the reddish color to its waters,) some carbonate of magnesia, and pure silex. The mean rate of accumulated soil seems to be about four inches in a century in Lower Egypt; and about forty feet depth of soil has thus been flung over the desert since the deluge. In the time of Mceris the lands were sufficiently watered, if the Nile rose to the height of eight cubits; in the time of Herodotus, it required fifteen cubits; and now the river must rise to the height of twenty-two before the whole country is over- flowed. Still, as the deposits increase the Delta, the river is proportionately dammed up, and thus the great watering machine is kept in order by Nature, with a little assistance from Mehernet Ali. Formerly, when vexed by the armaments of a Sesostris, or the priestly pageants of a Pharaoh, the Nile required seven mouths to vent its murmurs to the sea. In modern times it finds two sufficient: Damietta, of crusading memory, presides over one, and Rosetta, in Arabic, el Rashid, the birth- place of our old friend Haroun, takes advantage of the other. The former is waited upon by Lake Meazaleb, where alone the real ibis and the papy- rus are now foundthe latter looks eastward on Lake Bourlos, and westward over Aboukir Bay, of glorious memory. * * * * * T is an old story now, that battle ot the Nile; THE NILEITS SOURCES, & C. 53 but, as the traveller paces by these silent and deserted shores, that have twice seen Englands flag triumphant over wave and war, he lives again in the stirring days, when the scenery before him was the arena were France and England con- tended for the empire of the East. Let us rest from blazing sun and weary travel, in the cool shadow of this palm-tree. Our camels are kneel- ing round us, and our Arabs light their little fires in silence. They remember well the scenes we are recalling, though many a Briton has forgotten them; and the names of Nelson and of Aber- crombie are already sounding faint through the long vista of departed times. We overlook the scene of both their battles, and envy not the Spar- tan his Thermopyl~, or the Athenian his Salamis. What Greece was to the Persian despot, England was to Napoleon; nation after nation shrank from staking its existence at issue for a mere principle, and England alone was at war with the congre- gated world, in defence of that worlds freedom. Yet not quite alone: she had one faithful ally in the cause of liberty and Christianity, and that ally wasthe Turk! * * * * * The bay is wide, but dangerous from shoals; the line of deep blue water, and the old castle of Aboukir, map out the position of the French fleet on the 1st of August, 98. Having landed Bona- parte and his army, Brucys lay moored in the form of a crescent, close along the shore. He had thir- teen sail of the line, besides frigates and gun-boats, carrying twelve hundred guns, and about eleven thousand men, while the British fleet that was in search of him, only mustered eight thousand men, and one thousand guns. The French were pro- tected towards the northward by dangerous shoals, and towards the west by the castle, and numerous batteries. Their position was considered impreg- nable by themselves; yet when hood, in the Zealous, made signal that the enemy was in sight, a cheer of anticipated triumph burst from every ship in the British fleetthat fleet which had swept the seas with bursting sails for six long weeks in search of its formidable foeand now pressed to the battle as eagerly as if nothing but a rich and easy prize awaited them. Nelson had long been sailing in battle-order, and he noxv only lay to in the offing till the rearward ships should come up. rho soundings of that dangerous bay were unknown to him, but he knew that where there was room for a Frenchman to lie at anchor, there must be room for an English ship to lie along-side of him, and the closer the better. As his proud and fearless fleet came on, he hailed hood, to ask his opinion as to whether he thought it would be advisable to commence the attack that night; and receiving the answer that he longed for, the signal for close battle flew from his mast-head. The delay thus caused to the Zealous, gave Foley the lead, who showed the example of leading inside the enemys line, and anchored by the stern, along-side the second ship, thus leaving to Hood the first. The latter exclaimed to my informant Thank God, he has generously left to his old friend, still to lead the van. Slowly and majestically, as the evening fell, the remain- der of the fleet came on, beneath a cloud of sail, receiving the fire of the castle a~d the batteries in portentous silence, only broken by the crash of spars, and the boatswains whistle, as each ship furled her sails, calmly as a sea-bird might fold its wings, and glided tranquilly onward till she found her destined foe. Then her anchor dropped astern, and her fire opened with a vehemence that showed with what difficulty it had been repressed. The leading ships passed between the enemy and the shore; but when the admiral came up, he led along the seaward sidethus doubling on the Frenchmans line, and placing it in a defile of fire. The sun went down just as Nelson anchored; and his rearward ships were only guided through the darkness and the dangers of that formidable bay, by the enemys fire flashing fierce welcome as each arrived, and hovered along the line, coolly scruti- nizing where he could draw most of that fire on himself. The Bellerophon, with gallant reckless- ness, fastened on the gigantic Orient, and was soon crushed and scorched into a wreck by the terrible artillery of batteries more than double the num- bers of her own. But before she drifted helplessly to leeward, she had done her workthe French admirals ship was on fire, and through the roar of battle, a whisper xven~t that for a moment para- lyzed every eager heart and hand. During the dread pause that followed, the fight was suspended the very wounded ceased to groanyet the burning ship continued to fire broadsides from her flaming decksher gallant crew alone unawed by their approaching fate, and shouting their own brave requiem. At length, with the concentrated roar of a thousand battles, the explosion came; and the column of flame that shot upward into the very sky, for a moment rendered visible the whole surrounding scene, from the red flags aloft, to the reddened decks belowthe wide shore, with all its swarthy crowds, and the far-off glittering sea, with the torn and dismantled fleets. Then darkness and silence came again, only broken by the shower of blazing fragments, in which that brave ship fell upon the waters. Till that moment Nelson was ignorant how the battle went. He knew that every man was doing his duty, but he knew not how successfully ;he had been wounded in the forehead, and found his way unnoticed to the deck in the suspense of the coming explosion. Its light was a fitting lamp for eye like his to read by. He saw his own proud flag still floating everywhere; and at the same moment his crew recognized their wounded chief. The wild cheer with which they welcomed him was drowned in the renewed roar of the artillery, and the fight continued until near the dawn. Morning rose upon an altered scene. The sun 54 MAHMOUDISH CANALBATTLE OF ABOUKIItA TFE. had set upon as proud a fleet as ever sailed from the gay shores of France: torn and blackened hulls now only marked the position they had then occu- pied and where their admirals ship lied been, the blank sea sparkled in the sunshine, and the nautilus spread his tiny sail as if in mockery. * * Two ships of the line and two frigates escaped, to be captured soon afterwards; but within the bay, the tricolor was flying on board the Tonnant alone. As the Theseus approached to attack her, attempt- ing to capitulate, she hoisted a flag of truce. Your battle-flag or none, was the stern reply, as her enemy rounded to, and the matches glim- mered over her line of guns. Slowly and reluct- antly, like an expiring hope, that pale flag flut- tered down from ber lofty spars, and the next that floated there was the banner of Old England. And now the battle was overIndia was saved upon the shores of Egyptthe career of Bona- parte was checked,* and the navy of France was annihilated, though restored, seven years later, to perish utterly at Trafalgara fitting hecatomb for obsequies like those of Nelson, whose life seemed to terminate as his mission was then and thus accomplished. 1~IAHMOUDISH CANALBATTLE OF ABOLJKIR ATFE. And knows not if it be thunder, or a sound Of scourge-drivn labor, or the one deep cry Of people perishingthen thinketh, I have found New waters, but I die. ANON. The blue steel bit, thro helmet split, And red the harness painted; The virgins long lamented it, But the dogs were well contented With the slaughter of that day. SCANDINAVIAN RUNE. ARRIVED at Alexandria, the traveller is yet far distant from the Nile. The Canopic mouth is long since closed up by the mud of A3~thiopia, and the Arab conquerors of Egypt were obliged to form a canal to connect this seaport with the river. Under the Mamelukes this canal has also become choked up, and her communication with the great vivifying stream thus ceasing, Alexan- dria languishedwhile Rosetta, like a vampire, fed on her decay, and, notwithstanding her shal- low waters, swelled suddenly to importance. When Mehemet Ali rose to power, his clear in- tellect at once comprehended the importance of the ancient emporium. Alexandria was then be- come a mere harbor for piratesthe desert and the sea were gradually encroaching on its bounda * Le principal but de lexpedition des Fran~ais dOrient etait dabaisser in puissance Anglaise. Cest du Nil que devait partir larm6e qui allait donner de nouvelles des- tindes aux Indes Les Fran~ais une fois maitres des port de Corfoc, de Malte et dAlexandrie, is Nediterrande devenait un lac Francais.AIe2noirs de Napoleon. riesbut the pasha ordered the desert to bring forth corn, and the sea to retire, and the mandate of this Albanian Canute was no idle wordit acted like an incantation to the old Egyptian spirit of great works. Up rose a stately city, contain- ing 60,000 inhabitants, and as suddenly yawned the canal, which was to conne~ the new city with the Nile, and enable it to fulfil its destinies, of becoming the emporium of three quarters of the globe. In the greatness and the cruelty of its ac- complishment, this canal may vie with the gigan- tic labors of the Pharaohs. Three hundred thou- sand people were swept from the villages of the Delta, and heaped like a ridge along the destined banks of that fatal canal. They had only provis- ions for one mont~m, and implements they had few, or none; but the pashas command was urgent the men worked with all the energy of despair, and stabbed into the ground as if it was their ene- my; children carried away the soil in little hand- fuls; nursing mothers laid their infants on the shelterless banks; the scourge kept them to the work, and mingled blood with their milk, if they attempted to nourish their offspring. Famine soon made its appearance, and they say it was a fearful sight, to see that great multitude convulsively working against time. As a dying horse bites the ground in his agony, they tore up that great grave30,000 people perished, hut the grim con- tract was completed, and in six weeks the waters of the Nile were led to Alexandria. The canal is forty-eight miles in length, ninety feet in breadth, and eighteen in depth; it was finished altogether in ten months, with the exception of the lock which should have connected it with the river; the bey who had charge of this department lost his contract and his head. * * * * We embarked in a boat not unlike those that ply upon the Grand Canal, and, to say the truth, among the dreary wastes of swamp that surround- ed us, we might also have fancied ourselves in the midst of the Bog of Allen. The boat was towed by four wild, scraggy-looking horses, ridden by four wilder, scraggier-looking mentheir lInked feet were stuck in shovel stirrups, with the sharp sides of which they scored their horses flanks. after the fashion of crilnpe(l cod. It is true, these jockies wore tattered turbans instead of tattered hats, and loose blue gowns instead of grey frize. Yet, still there was something very dis-illusion- izing in the whole turn-outand the mud cabins that here and there encrusted the banks did not tend to obliterate Tipperary associations. But hold! there is a palm-tree, refreshing to the cock- neys eye; an ostrich is trotting along the towing- ing path; from a patch of firm ground a camel rears its melancholy head; and, by Jove! there goes a pelican! We must be in Africa, or else a menagerie has broken loose from Tullamore. We pass, for some miles, along a causeway that separates the salt-water Lake Madee from Lake Mareotis. Nothing can be more desolate MAHMOUDISII CANALBATTLE OF ABO UKIRATFE. than the aspects of these two lonely lakes, stretch- ing, with their low swampy shores, away to the horizon. If Alastor, or the spirit of solitude, was fond of yachting, these waters would be the very place for him to cruise in, undisturbed, except by the myriads of wild fowl that kept wheeling, shrieking, and whistling round us. These lakes seem to have bcen born for one another; but the Pharaohs, like poor-law guardians, saw fit to sep- arate them. Their object, however, the reverse of the said poor law, was to make Mareotis fruit- ful. A vast mound was raised, which kept the salt-lake at a respectful distance, and until the English invasion in 1801, or at least until the six- teenth century, the greater part of Mareotis was a fertile plain. Bonaparte, after having defeated the Mamelukes at the Pyramids, had taken possession of Cairo. 1-Laying denied Christ in Europe, he acknowledged Mahomet in Asia; having butchered his prisoners at Jaffa, he was defeated by the Butcher* Pasha and Sir Sydney Smith, at Acre; having poisoned part of that army whom he called his children, he started for Paris, and left the remainder to en- counter alone, those Storms that might veil his fames ascending star.f That remainder occupied Cairo, under the gallant and ill-fated Kleber. He had accepted terms of capitulation from the Turks, which Lord Keith refused to ratify. The moment Sir Sydney Smith learned the English admirals determination, he took upon himself to inform Kleber of the fact, and to advise him to hold his position. The Turks exclaimed against this chivalrous notice as a treachery, and there were not a few found in England to echo the same cry; but the spirit which dictated the British sailors act was under- stood in the desertsa voice went forth among the tents of the Bedouin and the palaces of the despot, that England preferred honor to advan- tage. Battles, since then, have been fought, and been forgottennations have come and gone, and left no trace behind thembut the memory of that noble truthfulness remained, and expanded into a national characteristic; and our countrymen may. at this hour, in the streets of Cairo, hear the Arabs swear by the honor of an Englishman. * * * * * * Kleber was assassinated by a fanatic, instigated by those priests whose faith he had offered to pro- fess. The, incapable Menou succeeded to the command. Abercrombie anchored in Aboukir Bay on the 2d of March, 1801, but was prevented from disembarking, by a continued gale of wind, until the 8th. Soon after midnight, a rocket from the admirafs ship gave the signal for landing and the boats, crowded with 6,000 troops, formed in such order as they could maintain on the yet * Djezzarin Arabic, a butcher. 1 Sir John Hammer. stormy sea. Then, through the clear silcnce of the night, the order was given to advance, and the deep murmur of a thousand oars made answer to the cheer that urged them on. It was morning before they approached the shore, which blazed with the fire of the French troops and their pro- tecting batteriesbut on they went, as reckless as the breeze that wafted them, till the boats took ground, and then leapt upon the bayonets of the French, advancing through the surf to meet them. The foam soon changed its color as they fought among the very waves, but nothing could stand the British onset long. The 23d, and the flank companies of the 40th, drove the eneniy before them, and received and broke a charge of cavalry with the bayonet. The sailors, harnessing them- selves to the field artillery, dragged it through the heavy sands, under the fire of the French bat- teries, to whose roar they replied with loud and triumphant cheers. The British troops now rushed on to the mouths of the cannon, swept the artille- ry men from their posts, carried the batteries with the bayonet, and stood conquerors on the Egyp- tian shore. On the 13th, a sanguinary engage- ment took place, without any result of importance. On the 2 1st, tIme English occupied a line extend- ing from the spot we are now sailing over to where the sea glistens yonder, about a mile away. Their right flank was covered by a flotilla of gun- boats, under Sir Sydney Smiththe left, by re- doubts. The French had partly restored the an- cieimt lines of circumvallation, near Alexandria, which Sir Ralph Abererombie was preparing to storm, when tIme enemy~s confidence and impetu- osity induced him to abandon his strong position, and advance to meet the British in yonder plain, where a few palm-trees still mark the ground they occupied. I need not tell the results of that glorious day. The 42d Highlanders and the gal- lant 28th regiment there won the proud name which they have since borne stainless through many a bloody field. The seaman there fought side by side in generous rivalry with the soldier in a word, there Abererombie conquered, and there Abercrombie fell. Sweet in manner, fair in favor, Mild in temper, fierce in fight; Warrior nobler, ~entler, braver, Never shall behold the light. The command devolved upon Lord Hutchinson, a worthy successor of his gallant friend. The powerfully written, manly, and feeling dispatch, in which he announced the victory of Aboukir, and the death of Abererombie, is, perhaps, as fine a composition as ojir military records can supply. On the arrival of, Sir David Baird from India, by Cosseir and the Nile, Lord Hutchinson advanced upon Alexandria, which capitulated, and soon afterwards Egypt was abandoned both by con- quered and conquerors to the Moslem. It was in this last advance that the embankment was cut by the British army. Six dykes were opened, but 56 CAJRO. the intermediate banks soon gave way, and the sea burst freely into lake Mareotis, submerging forty Arab villages with their cultivated lands. It was seventy days before the cataract subsided into a strait. The sea is now once more banked out by the causeway on which the Mabmoudish canal is carried to Alexandria, and Mehemet Au intends to drain the lake, and again to restore it to culti- vation; but the ruin which the hand of man, so weak to saveso vigorous to destroy, effected in a few hours, it will take many years to restore. Gentle reader, we are done with warand if you should add, time for us, I can only say, that I felt bound to account for this unpleasant- looking lake, on whose banks I have so long de- tained you, and, more truly, that I was fain to add my pebble to the cairn upon Abercrombies grave. It was midnight when we arrived at Atf~, the point of junction with the Nileand a regular African storm, dark and savage, was howling among the mud-built houses, when we disem- barked there, ankle deep in slime. A crowd of half-naked swarthy Arabs, with flaring torches, looked as if they were welcoming us to the realms of darkness, jabbering and shouting violently, in chorus with the barking of the wild dogs, the roaring of the wind, and the growling of the cam- els, as a hail-storm of boxes and portmanteaus was showered on their backs; donkies were bray- ing, women shrieking, Englishmen cursing sono- rously, and the lurid moon, as she hurried through the clouds, seemed a torch waved by some fury, to light up this scene of infernal confusion. My friend and I fought our way through the demon crowd, gave some of the ban-dogs reason for their howling, and, losing our way in an enclosure, stumbled over one of the only two pigs in the Land of Ham. These unclean animals are kept by a Frenchman, wl~p magnanimously prefers pork to popularity, and is about to establish an hotel in this most diabolical village it has ever been my lot to enter. Marvelling whether we should ever be restored to any of our luggage, we groped our way through sleeping Arabs and kneeling camels, and found, to our pleased amaze- ment, that our baggage, which appeared to scat- ter as widely and as suddenly as a burst rocket, was piled upon the deck uninjured, and our big- breeched servants were smoking on the portman- teau pyramids, as apathetically as two sphinxes. * * * * * * * We are now upon the sacred riverbut it is too dark to see its waters gleamand the shrieking of the steamer prevents us from hearing its waters flow. Alas! alas !What a paragraph! And, is it possible, ye Naiads of the Nile, that your deified stream is to be harrowed up by a greasy, grunting steam-ship, like the parvenue rivers of vulgar Europe That stream-that, gushing from beyond the emerald mountains, scatters gold around it in its youththat has borne the kings of India to worship at ancient Merocthat has murmured beneath the cradle of Moses, and foamed round the golden prow of Cleopatras barge! Unhappy river! Thou, who in thy warm youth hast loved the gorgeous clouds of ~~thiopia, must thou now expiate thy raptures, like Ixion, on the wheel Yes, for thy old slays of glory are gone bythy veil of mysteryis rent away, and with many another sacrificial victim of the ideal to the practical, thou must, forsooth, become use- ful, and respectable, and convey cockneys. They call thy steamy torturer the Lotus, tooadding insult to deep injury; a pretty specimen of thy sacred flower, begrimed with soot, and bearing fifty tons of Newcastle coal in its calyx! We were soon fizzing merrily up the stream, and after a night spent upon the hard boards in convulsive efforts to sleep, that were more fati- guing than a fox-hunt, we hurried on deck to see the sun shine over this renowned river. Must I confess it We could see nothing but high banks of dark mud, or swamps of festering slimeeven the dead buffalo, that lay rotting on the rivers edge, with a pretty sprinkling of goitrous-looking vultures, scarcely repaid one for leaving Europe. In some hours, however, we emerged from the Rosetta branch, on which we had hitherto been boiling our way to the great river, and henceforth the prospect began to improve. Villages shel- tered by graceful groups of palm-trees, mosques, santons tombs, green plains, and at length the desertthe most imposing sight in the world, except the sea. The day passed slowlythe view had little varietythe wild fowl had ascertained the range of an English fowling-piece; the dinner was as cold as the climate would permitthe plates had no knives and forks, and an interesting- looking lady had a drumstick between her teeth, as I pointed out to her the scene of the battle of the Pyramids, which now rose upon our view. That sight restored us to good humor; we felt we were actually in Egyptthe bog of Allen, the canal-boat, the cockney steamer itself, failed to counteract the effect produced upon us by those man-made mountains, girt round with forests of palm trees. As the sun and the champagne went down, our spirits rose, and by the time the evening and the mist had rendered the country invisible, we had persuaded ourselves that Egypt was, indeed, the lovely land that Moore has so delight- fully imagined in the pages of the Epicurean. CAIROITS PORTVIEW FROM wITIIOIITwIT~IIN TIlE cITADELHELIOPOLIsPALAcE OF SHOOL- HATHE SLAVE-MARKET. lAThile far as siThI can reach, hcneath as clear Arid blue a heaveis as ever blessed this sphere, Gardens. and minarets, and gliItcrin~ domes, And high-built temples, fit to be the homes Of mighty gods, and l)yranhi(ls, whose hour Outlasts all time above the waters tower. 1Y[ooas. MORNING found us anchored off Boulac, the port of Cairo. Toward the river it is faced by facto- CAIRO. 57 ries and storehouses; within you find yourself in a labyrinth of brown narrow streets that resemble rather rifts in some mud mountain, than any thing with which architecture has to do. Yet here and there the blankness of the walls is broken and varied by richly worked lattices, and specimens of arabesque masonry. Gaudy bazaars strike the eye and relieve the gloomand the picturesque population that swarms every where keeps the interest awake. On emerging from the lanes of Boulac, Cairo, Grand Cairo! opens on the view, and never yet did fancy flash upon the poets eye a more superb illusion of power and beauty than the city of Victory ~ presents from a distance. The bold range of the Mokattam mountains is purpled by the rising sunits craggy summits are cut clearly out against the glowing skyit runs like a pro- montory into a sea of the richest verdure, here wavy with a breezy plantation of olives, there darkened with acacia groves. Just where the mountain sinks upon the plain, the citadel stands upon its last eminence, and, widely spread beneath it lies the city, a forest of minarets with palm trees intermingled, and the domes of innumerable mosques rising, like enormous bubbles, over the sea of houses. Here and there richly green gar- dens are islanded within that sea, and the whole is girt round with picturesque towers and ram- parts, occasionally revealed through vistas of the wood of sycamores and fig-trees that surround it. It has been said that God the first garden made, and the first city Cain ; but here they seemed commingled with the happiest effect. The ap- proach to Cairo is a spacious avenue lined with the olive or the sycamore; here and there the white marble of a fountain gleams through the foliage, or a palm-tree waves its plumy head above the santons tomb. Along this highway a masquerading looking crowd is swarming towards the cityladies wrapped closely in white veils, women of the lower class carrying water on their heads, and covered only with a long blue garment that reveals, but too plainly, an exquisite symme- try in the young, and a hideous deformity in the eldersthere are camels perched upon by black slaves, magpied with white napkins round their head and loinsthere are portly merchants, with turbans and long pipes, gravely smoking on their knowing-look donkeyshere an Arab dashes through the crowd at full gallop, or a European still more haughtily shoves aside the pompous- looking bearded throng. Water-carriers, calen- ders, Armenians, barbers, all the dramatist persoms of the Arabian Nights are there. And now we reach the city wall, with its towers as strong as mud can make them. It must not be supposed that this mud architecture is of the same nature * El Kahira, the Arabic epithet of this city, means the Victorious whence our word Cairoin Arabic Misr. that one associates with the word in Europe. No! Overshadowed by palm-trees, and a crimson ban- ner with iIs crescent waving from the battle- ments, and camels couched beneath its shade, and swarthy Egyptians, in gorgeous apparel, leaning against it, make a mud wall appe~ a very respect- able fortification in this land of illusion. And now we are within the cliv! Protean powers! what a change! A labyrinth of dark, filthy, intricate lanes and alleys, in which every smell and sight, from which the nose and eye revolt, meet one at every turn, and one is always turning. The stateliest streets are not above twelve feet wide, and as the upper stories arch over them toward one anotber,only a narrow ser- pentine seam of blue sky appears between the top- pling verandahs of the winding streets. Occa- sionally a string of camels, bristling with fagots of firewood, sweeps the streets as effectually of passengers, as the machine which has superseded chummies does a chimney of its soot; lean mangy dogs are continually running between your legs, which afford a tempting passage in this petticoated place ; beggars, its rags, quivering with vermin, are lying in every corner of the street; now a bridal, or a circumcising procession, squeezes along, with music that might madden a drummer now the running footmen of some hey or pasha, endeavor to jostle you towards the wall, unless they recognize you as an Englishmanone of that race whom they think the devil cant frighten or teach manners to. Notwithstanding all these an- noyances, however, the streets of Cairo present a source of unceasing amusement and curiosity to the stranger. It has not so purely an oriental character as Damascus; but the intermixture of Europeans gives it a character of its own, and affords far wider scope for adventure than the se- cluded and solemn capital of Syria. The bazaars are very vivid and varied, and each is devoted to a peculiar class of commoditiesthus you have the Turkish, the Persian, the Frank bazaars; the armorers, the weavers, the jewellers quarters. These bazaars are, for the most part, covered in, and there is a cool and quiet gloom about them which is very refreshing; there is also an air of profound repose in the turbaned merchants, as they sit cross-legged on their counters, embowered by the shawls and silks of India and Persia: they look as if they were forever sitting for their por- traits, and seldom move a muscle, unless it be to breathe a cloud of smoke from their bearded lips, or to turn their vivid eyes upon some expected customerthose eyes that seem to be the only living part of their countenance. These bazaars have each a ponderous chain hung across their entrance, to prevent the precipitate departure of any thief that may presume too far upon the list- lessness of the shopkeeper; each lane and alley is also terminated by a door, which is guarded at night. In passing along these narrow lanes, you might suppose yourself in some gallery or corridor, U CAIILO. until you meet a file of donkeys, or of soldiers entered unsuspectingly, until the porteullis fell staggering along their slippery paths. behind the last of the proud procession. They Mean-looking and crowded as is the greater part dashed forwardsin vain before and around of Cairo, there are some extensivc squares and them nothing was visible, buL blank, pitiless walls, stately houses. Among the former is the Esbe- and barred windows; and the only opening was keych, by which you enter the citya place per- towards the bright blue sky. SEven that was soon haps twice the size of Stephens-Green, occupied darkened by their funereal pall of smoke, as vol- by a large plantation, divided by wide avenues, and ley after volley flashed from a thousand muskets surrounded by a dirty canal. A wide road, shaded upon their defenceless and devoted band. Start- by palm and sycamore trees, runs round this canal, hog, and fearfully sudden as was the death, they and forms a street of tall mud-colored houses of met it as became their fearless character. Some very various architecture; some of these, the ye- with arms crossed upon their mailed bosoms, and randahs particularly, are very delicately and elabo- their turbaned heads devoutly bowed in prayer; rately worked. The best buildings in the Esbe- some with flashing swords, and fierce curses, alike keych are the palaces of Ibrahim and Abbas Pasha, unavailing against their dastard and ruthless foe. and the new hotel IYOrient, in which we bad All that chivalrous and splendid throng, save one, pleasant apartmentslooking over a cemetery it is sank rapidly beneath that deadly fire into a red and true, which was haunted by tribes of ghoullike writhing massthat one was Emim Bey. He dogs. But beyond this spurred his charger over a heap of his slaughtered Thin layer of thin earth between comrades, and sprang upon the battlements. It The living and the dead, was a dizzy height, but the next moment he was in the airanother, and he was disengaging him- were gardens, and Kiosks, and palm-groves, and self from his crushed and dying horse, amid a a glimpse of the Nile, and, above all, the Pyra- shower of bullets. He escaped, and found his mids far in the distance, yet, by their magnitude, well-earned freedom in the desert. curiously confounding the perspective. Another The objects of interest in the neighborhood are wide space is the Roumeleych, where fairs and very numerous. One day, we rode to Heliogolis, markets are held, and criminals are executed, and the On of Scripture. It is about five miles from other popular amusements take place. I am not Cairo~ and the road lies, for the most part, along writing a guide-book, and I shall only at present a shady avenue passing through luxuriant corn- allude to the citadel, which, as I have observed fields, over which numbers of the beautiful white already, overlooks the town. Mehemet Ali resides ibis were hoveriimg. We found nothing but a in it when he is in Cairo. Here are the remains small garden of orange-trees, with a magnificent of Saladins palace, and the commencement of a obelisk in the centre. Yet here Joseph was mar- magnificent niosq ue, from the terraced roof of ned to the fair Asenath; here Plato and Herodo- which there is, perhaps, the finest view in the tus studied, and here the darkness in which the sun world. There is also a place of great interest to veiled the Great Sacrifice on Calvary, was observed antiquarian cockneys, because it is called Josephs by a heathen astronomer. The obelisks seem well, although owing its origin to the Saracen , * never to have been isolated in the position for not the patriarch. There is also a respectable ar- which they were originally hewn out of the granite mory of native workmanship, a printing-press, and quarries of Syene. They terminated avenues of a mint which coins annually about 200,000 sterling columns or of statues, and bore, in hieroglyphic in gold. This citadel was built by Saladin, and inscriptions, the destination of the temples to which was very strong from its position, before gunpow- they led. People talk of tIme ruins of the temple der gave the command of it to a height further up of the Sun as being discoverable here; and there on the Mokattam height. are reports about a sphinx, but we could discover But to me, the most interesting spot within neither. Here is the garden of Metarich, where these crime-stained precincts, was that where the grew the celebrated balm of Gilead, presented by last of the Mamelukes escaped the bloody treachery the queen of Sheba to Solomon, and brought to of Mehemet Ali. Soon after the Pasha was con- Egypt by Cleopatra.* On our return towards firmed by the Porte in the vice-royalty of Egypt, Cairo, we were shown the fountain which refresh- he summoned the Mameluke beys to a consulta- ed and the tree which shaded, the holy family in tion on the approaching war against the Wahabees in Arabia. As his son Toussoun had been invest- their flight to Egypt. Another day, we went to Shoobra, the palace ed with the dignity of pasha of the second order, and garden of Mehemet Ali. We cantered under the occasion was one of festivity, as well as busi- a noble avenue of sycamores, just wide enough to ness. The buys came mounted on their finest preserve their shade, and at the end of three miles, horses, in magnificent uniforms, forming the most came to a low and unpretending gateway, pictur- superb cavalry in the world. After a very flatter- esque, however, and covered with parasites. ing reception from the pasha, they were requested to parade in the court of the citadel, which they * For an account of this plant, see the valuable notes to Lord Lindsays Lettersn book without which no one * Saladins name was Joussef or Joseph. should visit Egypt, amid few should remain in Emmgland. CAIRO. 59 Without, were tents and troops, and muskets piled, and horses ready saddled; hut within, all was peace and silence. A venerable gardener, ~vith a long white beard, received us at the entrance, and conducted us through the fairy-like garden, of which he might pass for the guardian genius. There were very few flowers; but shade and greenery are every thing in this glaring climate; and it was very delightful to stroll along these paths, all shadowy, with orange trees, whose fruit, like lamps in a night of green, hung temptingly over our heads. The fragrance of large beds of roses mingled with that of the orange flower, and seemed to repose on the quiet airs of that calm evening. In the midst of this garden we came to a vast pavilion, glittering like porce- lain, and supported on light pillars, forming clois- ters, that surrounded a little marble basin, in the centre of which sparkling waters gushed from a picturesque fountain. Gaily painted little boats for the ladies of the hareem, floated on the surface of this lake, through whose clear depths, shoals of gold and silver fishes flashed lines of light. In each corner of the building, there were gilded apartments with divans, tables, mirrors and all the simple furniture of an eastern palace, in which books or pictures are never found. The setting sun threw his last shadows on the distant pyramids, as we lay upon the marble steps inhaling the odors of the orange and pomegranate groves, and dreamily listening to the vespers of the busy birds, and the far-off hum of the city, and the faint mur- mur of the great river; the evening breeze was sighing among the palms and the columns of the palace, when we were startled by another rustle than that of leaves, and two odalisques came laughing by, unconscious of our presence, and unveiled. The old Arab gardener anxiously sign- ed to us to look another way, but for once I pre- ferred European to Egyptian manners, and gazed admiringly on the startled pair. One was a very beautiful Georgian girlI believe her compan- ion was handsome too; but one such face was enough at a time, and, as it was not very quickly shrouded by her veil, I had a glimpse of as bright no, that is not the wordbut of as beautiful a countenance as poet ever dreamed of. She was very fair, and all but palethe deep seclusion of her life had left but little color on her cheek, and her exquisitely chiselled features would have been marble-like, but for the resplendent eyes that lent life and lustre to the whole countenance. A bril- liant moon lighted our gallop back to Cairo: the gates were long since closed, but a bribe procured us easy admission. The tombs of the Mamelukes are mausolean palaces, of great beauty, and the richest Saracenic architecture, but now falling fast to decay, and only inhabited, or rather haunted, by some outcast Arabs and troops of wild dogs. They form a grand cemetery of their own, surrounded by the desert. The petrified forest is about five miles away. My friend R. went there, and described it as a vast shelterless wilderness of sand, strewn with what seemed the chips of some gi0antic carpenters shop. There are no roots, much less appearance of a standing tree. One of the sights which amuse~ me most was a chicken-hatching oven. This useful establishment is at some distance from the walls, and gives life to some millions of chickens annually. It seems that the hens of Egypt are not given to sedentary occupations; having been hatched themselves by machinery, they do not feel called upon to hatch. They seem to consider that they have discharged every duty to society, when they have produced the eggno domestic anxiety ruffles their bosoms; they care not whether their offspring becomes a fowl or a fritter, a game cock or an omelette. We entered a gloomy and filthy hut, in which a woman was squatting, with a dark, little, naked imp at her bosom. She sat sentry over a hole in the wall, and insisted clamorously on backsheesh (a bribe.) Being satisfied in this particular, she consented to sit over, and we introduced our- selves with considerable difficulty into a narrow passage, on either side of which were three cham- bers, strown with fine mould, and covered with eggs, among which a naked Egyptian walks deli- cately as Agag, and keeps continually turning them with most hen-like anxiety. The heat was about 1000, the smell like that of Harrowgate water, and the floor was covered with egg-shells and struggling chickens. The same heat is main- tained day and night, and the same wretched hen- man passes his life in turning eggs. His fee is one-half the receipthe returns fifty chickens for every hundred eggs that he receives. It was the feast of lanterns. As we strolled, by the soft moonlight, under the avenues of sycamore and olive trees that shadow the Esbekeyeh, we could see through the vistas an extensive encamp- ment in the distanceinnumerable lamps, of vari- ous colors, and painted lanterns, shone among the tents and the dark foliage. Not only did they glitter on every bough, and on a thousand banners, hut scaffoldings were raised, on which they hung in garlands and festoons of light. The very sky above them wore the appearance of a faint dawn: every glimpse of the canals, every leaf in all the grove, shone with their reflected radiance. Of course we were soon struggling through the many- colored crowd of the prophets worshippers, that thronged the encampment. A Moslem mob is good-tempered and patient beyond belief; and that sea of turbans stagnated as calmly, as if every wave of it was exactly in the position that he wished to occupy. Each tent was crowded to excess by performers or aspirants in a most singu- lar religious ceremony. A ring of men, standing so closely side by side that they supported each other in their exhausting devotions, were vehe- mently shouting Allah, or rather Ullab, in 60 CAIRO. chorus. They moved their bodies up and down, keeping strict time to this monotonous chant, ex- haling their breath pantingly at every exclamation. Many were foaming at the month, some were in- coherentall seemed utterly exhausted, and fell, from time to time, among the crowd that was quietly squatted within their excited circle. They were instantly succeeded by others, and this pro- ceeding continued till morning: every tent had i~s peaceful crowd of squatters, surrounded by its convulsive ring. None of the crowd appeared to take the slightest interest or curiosity about the business before or after they had performed their own part. They then lighted their pipes, where they had room to do so, and gently struggled to- wards the flower-ornamented stalls, where coffee and sherbet were supplied. It was very refreshing to turn from this melancholy scene, so humbling to human nature, and find oneself in silence and solitude, under the calm, pure skies, with the soothing whispers of the night breeze, as it wan- dered among the feathery palms. I pass over, for the present, the schools, the hospitals, and the manufactories of the pasha, Mr. Leiders interesting missionary schools, the muse- ums of Dr. Abbot and Clot Bey, and will only beg the readers company to one more scene in Cairo. I xvent to visit the slave-market, which is held without the city, in the court-yard of a deserted mosque. I was received by a mild-looking Nu- bian, with a large white turban wreathed over his swarthy brows, and a bernoose, or cloak, of white and brown striped hair-cloth, strapped round his loins. He rose and laid down his pipe as I enter- ed, and led me in silence to inspect his stock. I found about thirty girls, scattered in groups about an inner court. The gate was open, but there seemed no thought of escape. Where could they go, poor things! The world was not their friend, or the worlds law. Some of them were grinding millet between two stonessome were kneading the flour into bread; some were chat- ting in the sunshine, some sleeping in the shade. One or two looked sad and lonely enough, until their gloomy countenances were lighted up with hopetue hope of being bought! Their faces were, for the most part, ~vofnlly blanknot the blankness of despair, but of intelligence; and many wore an awfully animal expression. Yet there were several figures of exquisite symmetry among them, which, if they had been indeed the bronze statues they resembled, would have attract- ed the inspection of thousands, and would have been worth twenty times the price that was set upon these immortal beings. Their proprietor showed them off as a horse-dealer does his cattle, examining their teeth, removing their body-clothes, and exhibiting their paces. He asked only from twenty-five to thirty pounds sterling for the best and comeliest of them. The Abyssinians are the most prized of the African slaves, from their su- perior gentleness and intelligence ; those of the Galla country are the most numerous and hardy. The former have well-shaped heads, beautiful eyes, an agreeable brown color, and shining smooth black tresses. The latter have low fore- heads, crisp hair, sooty corrtplexions, thick lips, and projecting jaws. It was like the change front night to morning, passing from these dingy crowds to the apartments of the white slaves from Georgia and Cireassia. It was not without some difficulty I obtained admission into this department of the human bazaar. Its commodities are only purchas- ed by the wealthy and powerful Mussulmans, and many are bought upon commission. They fetch from one hundred and fifty to three hundred pounds sterling; and, being so much more valuable than the Africans, are much more carefully tended. They reclined upon carpets, lightly but richly clad. They were, for the most part, exquisitely fair; but I was disappointed in their beauty. The sunny hair, and heaven-blue eyes, that in England pro- duce such an angel-like and intellectual effect, seemed to me here mere flax and beads; and I left them to the turbaned Turk~ without a sigh except, perhaps, a very little one for those far away, in mine own land, whose image they served, however faintly, to recall. It is the usual custom of travellers, to pour forth a torrent of indignation on the slave markets of the east. Certainly they do not sound well ; and far be it from me to become their advocate ; nev- ertheless it is not just to paint the black prince blacker than he is, even when speaking of niggers. It is not fair to judge of the sufferings or sensa- tions of these creatures, half man, half ourang-. outang, by the standard of our own people. It is true they are only clothed with a blanket or a napkin, but that is the full-dress of their native land. They are fed on coarse flour-cakes and water, but that is the beef and beer of Ethiopia. Their domestic ties are broken, but they are not like our ties, whatever morbid philanthropy may say; and, if they were, the slave-dealer is only in the relation to them of a new-poor-law guardian unto us. They suffer hardship and cruelty, no doubt, during their passage of the desert, and down the Nile; but once they are purchased, they are treated with the same kindness, they have the same food and clothes as the free servant; and they have nothing of the stigma which is attached to their undeserved destiny in the free, and en- lightened, and repudiating republic of America. It is to be considered, also, that they are, for the most part, prisoners of war, and exchange a cruel death for that servitude which is the lot of the freest of us all in one form or another. As for the Georgian and Circassian beauties, they have never learned what love or freedom means; they have been educated for exportation; their only ambition, like that of many fair maidens in hap- FRAGMENT.THE STOLEN KISS. pier lands, is to fetch a high price, and their only hope is to be first favorite in the hareemuhose hareem they care not. heaven forbid that I should attempt to defend the diabolical traffic in immortal beings I only venture to exhibit the matter in the light in which it appears to the Mussulman, by which light alone he is to be judged. For my own part, I can truly say, that I have witnessed more melancholy sights in village church and city chapel, where orange- flowers wreathed, and jewels adorned, and bishops blessed a victim-bride, than in any slave-market of the east, from Cairo to Constantinople. It is forbidden by the law of Mahomet to sell slaves to Christians, out of regard to their souls We may smile at it, bu~ we cannot scorn this con- sideration. Cairo is remarkable for latitudinarian- ism in matters of faithbut at Damascus, the traveller can only obtain admission to the slave- bazaar under the disguise of oriental costume. Even in the former city, however, the difficulty of access is daily increased, from the insults with which the slave-owners are overwhelmed by Christians, after they have satisfied their curiosity. These travellers should beware of relying too much on the ignorance of the African, for there are man-dealers and daughter-sellers in other lands than those of Egypt. * * * * * Here, you black scoundrel !here is the price of that fair Georgian girl, whose eyes sparkle with the hope of being bought, and being free. Yet nothe transaction would be condemned as dis- reputable in nay country, where I have just seen a wealthy worldling lead to the altar a richly- adorned, but unwilling bride, whose heart (and he knew it) was anothers. Congratulations and honor showered upon his bargain, as reprobation would on my little transaction here. Yet the only difference is, that his purchase money was in set- tlements, and that his purchase was a free-born daughter of proud England. But enough of thislet us hope we all know one, who acknowledges, in practice as well as in profession, that there is a world beyond our own; who prefers his childs happiness to an additional footman, and her peace of mind to a pair of lead- ers. May his days be many! May his white hairs shine, like a halo, in a happy home! arid, in his dying hour, may he leave nothing to re- proach himself with, except not having made traffic of his daughters love. * * * * * * * Here s a pretty homily about a respectable class of elderly gentlemen, with whom, thank heaven! in the course of a tolerably varied life, I have never had a dealing: nor am likely to have after this remonstrance, to look upon a man as man, not as a pocket. I do not mean to assert that a coronet is not a most graceful appendage, and coin a most con- venient element, in a marrying man; but a noble 61 heart, and a rich intellect are not utterly valueless, hut to minds devoid of both. After all, it is no affair of mine, this English heart-market; I am neither a daughter nor a fatherso, peace to the good, and repentance to the evil, and let us away to the quiet Nile, for We have many a distant pafla to tread, By pensive fancy, not by fiction led. ERA GMENT. On! come to me now, for my sorrows are past, And the cloud on my heart is dissolvd at last; Spirit of Poesy, come from above, Come, on the wings of nature and love! Come, while the yellow light streams thro the pane, And thee air is fresh with the morning rain, And, the wind is up with its sweet wild voice, Like a song of sorrow that bids us rejoice. Come, mid fancies gathering fast, Mid thoughts of the present, and thoughts of the past; Oh! come to me now! t is thy chosen hour, And the spirits of evil no longer have power! From Knights Quarterly Magazine. THE STOLEN KISS. TVritten in a Ladys Aibson by the late Abraham Gem. tian, Esq. Seeoornn be that browand chasd the frown Yet gathering to thy tardy will Nor think to awe my raptures down, For anger snakes thee lovelier still. In vain thou wouldst compel the ire But lightly felt, but faintly shown; Thine eyes betray beneath their fire The pardon then wouldst blush to own. Then, still that proudly swelling breast, Soften that lovely, mantling cheek; was but a Kiss, that well expressd The tenderness I could not speak. I ENVY thee thou careless wind So light, so wild, thy wandering, Thou hast no earthly chain to bind One fetter on thine airy wing ; I envy thee, thou careless wind! The flowers first sigh of blossoming, The harps soft note, the woodlarks song, All unto thee their treasures bring, All to thy fairy reign belong; I envy thee, thou careless wind! Thy jocund wing oer ocean roves, An echo to the sea-maids lay; Then over rose and orange groves, Thy fragrant breath exhales away ; I envy thee, thou careless wind!

FRAGMENT.THE STOLEN KISS. pier lands, is to fetch a high price, and their only hope is to be first favorite in the hareemuhose hareem they care not. heaven forbid that I should attempt to defend the diabolical traffic in immortal beings I only venture to exhibit the matter in the light in which it appears to the Mussulman, by which light alone he is to be judged. For my own part, I can truly say, that I have witnessed more melancholy sights in village church and city chapel, where orange- flowers wreathed, and jewels adorned, and bishops blessed a victim-bride, than in any slave-market of the east, from Cairo to Constantinople. It is forbidden by the law of Mahomet to sell slaves to Christians, out of regard to their souls We may smile at it, bu~ we cannot scorn this con- sideration. Cairo is remarkable for latitudinarian- ism in matters of faithbut at Damascus, the traveller can only obtain admission to the slave- bazaar under the disguise of oriental costume. Even in the former city, however, the difficulty of access is daily increased, from the insults with which the slave-owners are overwhelmed by Christians, after they have satisfied their curiosity. These travellers should beware of relying too much on the ignorance of the African, for there are man-dealers and daughter-sellers in other lands than those of Egypt. * * * * * Here, you black scoundrel !here is the price of that fair Georgian girl, whose eyes sparkle with the hope of being bought, and being free. Yet nothe transaction would be condemned as dis- reputable in nay country, where I have just seen a wealthy worldling lead to the altar a richly- adorned, but unwilling bride, whose heart (and he knew it) was anothers. Congratulations and honor showered upon his bargain, as reprobation would on my little transaction here. Yet the only difference is, that his purchase money was in set- tlements, and that his purchase was a free-born daughter of proud England. But enough of thislet us hope we all know one, who acknowledges, in practice as well as in profession, that there is a world beyond our own; who prefers his childs happiness to an additional footman, and her peace of mind to a pair of lead- ers. May his days be many! May his white hairs shine, like a halo, in a happy home! arid, in his dying hour, may he leave nothing to re- proach himself with, except not having made traffic of his daughters love. * * * * * * * Here s a pretty homily about a respectable class of elderly gentlemen, with whom, thank heaven! in the course of a tolerably varied life, I have never had a dealing: nor am likely to have after this remonstrance, to look upon a man as man, not as a pocket. I do not mean to assert that a coronet is not a most graceful appendage, and coin a most con- venient element, in a marrying man; but a noble 61 heart, and a rich intellect are not utterly valueless, hut to minds devoid of both. After all, it is no affair of mine, this English heart-market; I am neither a daughter nor a fatherso, peace to the good, and repentance to the evil, and let us away to the quiet Nile, for We have many a distant pafla to tread, By pensive fancy, not by fiction led. ERA GMENT. On! come to me now, for my sorrows are past, And the cloud on my heart is dissolvd at last; Spirit of Poesy, come from above, Come, on the wings of nature and love! Come, while the yellow light streams thro the pane, And thee air is fresh with the morning rain, And, the wind is up with its sweet wild voice, Like a song of sorrow that bids us rejoice. Come, mid fancies gathering fast, Mid thoughts of the present, and thoughts of the past; Oh! come to me now! t is thy chosen hour, And the spirits of evil no longer have power! From Knights Quarterly Magazine. THE STOLEN KISS. TVritten in a Ladys Aibson by the late Abraham Gem. tian, Esq. Seeoornn be that browand chasd the frown Yet gathering to thy tardy will Nor think to awe my raptures down, For anger snakes thee lovelier still. In vain thou wouldst compel the ire But lightly felt, but faintly shown; Thine eyes betray beneath their fire The pardon then wouldst blush to own. Then, still that proudly swelling breast, Soften that lovely, mantling cheek; was but a Kiss, that well expressd The tenderness I could not speak. I ENVY thee thou careless wind So light, so wild, thy wandering, Thou hast no earthly chain to bind One fetter on thine airy wing ; I envy thee, thou careless wind! The flowers first sigh of blossoming, The harps soft note, the woodlarks song, All unto thee their treasures bring, All to thy fairy reign belong; I envy thee, thou careless wind! Thy jocund wing oer ocean roves, An echo to the sea-maids lay; Then over rose and orange groves, Thy fragrant breath exhales away ; I envy thee, thou careless wind!

FRAGMENT.THE STOLEN KISS. pier lands, is to fetch a high price, and their only hope is to be first favorite in the hareemuhose hareem they care not. heaven forbid that I should attempt to defend the diabolical traffic in immortal beings I only venture to exhibit the matter in the light in which it appears to the Mussulman, by which light alone he is to be judged. For my own part, I can truly say, that I have witnessed more melancholy sights in village church and city chapel, where orange- flowers wreathed, and jewels adorned, and bishops blessed a victim-bride, than in any slave-market of the east, from Cairo to Constantinople. It is forbidden by the law of Mahomet to sell slaves to Christians, out of regard to their souls We may smile at it, bu~ we cannot scorn this con- sideration. Cairo is remarkable for latitudinarian- ism in matters of faithbut at Damascus, the traveller can only obtain admission to the slave- bazaar under the disguise of oriental costume. Even in the former city, however, the difficulty of access is daily increased, from the insults with which the slave-owners are overwhelmed by Christians, after they have satisfied their curiosity. These travellers should beware of relying too much on the ignorance of the African, for there are man-dealers and daughter-sellers in other lands than those of Egypt. * * * * * Here, you black scoundrel !here is the price of that fair Georgian girl, whose eyes sparkle with the hope of being bought, and being free. Yet nothe transaction would be condemned as dis- reputable in nay country, where I have just seen a wealthy worldling lead to the altar a richly- adorned, but unwilling bride, whose heart (and he knew it) was anothers. Congratulations and honor showered upon his bargain, as reprobation would on my little transaction here. Yet the only difference is, that his purchase money was in set- tlements, and that his purchase was a free-born daughter of proud England. But enough of thislet us hope we all know one, who acknowledges, in practice as well as in profession, that there is a world beyond our own; who prefers his childs happiness to an additional footman, and her peace of mind to a pair of lead- ers. May his days be many! May his white hairs shine, like a halo, in a happy home! arid, in his dying hour, may he leave nothing to re- proach himself with, except not having made traffic of his daughters love. * * * * * * * Here s a pretty homily about a respectable class of elderly gentlemen, with whom, thank heaven! in the course of a tolerably varied life, I have never had a dealing: nor am likely to have after this remonstrance, to look upon a man as man, not as a pocket. I do not mean to assert that a coronet is not a most graceful appendage, and coin a most con- venient element, in a marrying man; but a noble 61 heart, and a rich intellect are not utterly valueless, hut to minds devoid of both. After all, it is no affair of mine, this English heart-market; I am neither a daughter nor a fatherso, peace to the good, and repentance to the evil, and let us away to the quiet Nile, for We have many a distant pafla to tread, By pensive fancy, not by fiction led. ERA GMENT. On! come to me now, for my sorrows are past, And the cloud on my heart is dissolvd at last; Spirit of Poesy, come from above, Come, on the wings of nature and love! Come, while the yellow light streams thro the pane, And thee air is fresh with the morning rain, And, the wind is up with its sweet wild voice, Like a song of sorrow that bids us rejoice. Come, mid fancies gathering fast, Mid thoughts of the present, and thoughts of the past; Oh! come to me now! t is thy chosen hour, And the spirits of evil no longer have power! From Knights Quarterly Magazine. THE STOLEN KISS. TVritten in a Ladys Aibson by the late Abraham Gem. tian, Esq. Seeoornn be that browand chasd the frown Yet gathering to thy tardy will Nor think to awe my raptures down, For anger snakes thee lovelier still. In vain thou wouldst compel the ire But lightly felt, but faintly shown; Thine eyes betray beneath their fire The pardon then wouldst blush to own. Then, still that proudly swelling breast, Soften that lovely, mantling cheek; was but a Kiss, that well expressd The tenderness I could not speak. I ENVY thee thou careless wind So light, so wild, thy wandering, Thou hast no earthly chain to bind One fetter on thine airy wing ; I envy thee, thou careless wind! The flowers first sigh of blossoming, The harps soft note, the woodlarks song, All unto thee their treasures bring, All to thy fairy reign belong; I envy thee, thou careless wind! Thy jocund wing oer ocean roves, An echo to the sea-maids lay; Then over rose and orange groves, Thy fragrant breath exhales away ; I envy thee, thou careless wind!

FRAGMENT.THE STOLEN KISS. pier lands, is to fetch a high price, and their only hope is to be first favorite in the hareemuhose hareem they care not. heaven forbid that I should attempt to defend the diabolical traffic in immortal beings I only venture to exhibit the matter in the light in which it appears to the Mussulman, by which light alone he is to be judged. For my own part, I can truly say, that I have witnessed more melancholy sights in village church and city chapel, where orange- flowers wreathed, and jewels adorned, and bishops blessed a victim-bride, than in any slave-market of the east, from Cairo to Constantinople. It is forbidden by the law of Mahomet to sell slaves to Christians, out of regard to their souls We may smile at it, bu~ we cannot scorn this con- sideration. Cairo is remarkable for latitudinarian- ism in matters of faithbut at Damascus, the traveller can only obtain admission to the slave- bazaar under the disguise of oriental costume. Even in the former city, however, the difficulty of access is daily increased, from the insults with which the slave-owners are overwhelmed by Christians, after they have satisfied their curiosity. These travellers should beware of relying too much on the ignorance of the African, for there are man-dealers and daughter-sellers in other lands than those of Egypt. * * * * * Here, you black scoundrel !here is the price of that fair Georgian girl, whose eyes sparkle with the hope of being bought, and being free. Yet nothe transaction would be condemned as dis- reputable in nay country, where I have just seen a wealthy worldling lead to the altar a richly- adorned, but unwilling bride, whose heart (and he knew it) was anothers. Congratulations and honor showered upon his bargain, as reprobation would on my little transaction here. Yet the only difference is, that his purchase money was in set- tlements, and that his purchase was a free-born daughter of proud England. But enough of thislet us hope we all know one, who acknowledges, in practice as well as in profession, that there is a world beyond our own; who prefers his childs happiness to an additional footman, and her peace of mind to a pair of lead- ers. May his days be many! May his white hairs shine, like a halo, in a happy home! arid, in his dying hour, may he leave nothing to re- proach himself with, except not having made traffic of his daughters love. * * * * * * * Here s a pretty homily about a respectable class of elderly gentlemen, with whom, thank heaven! in the course of a tolerably varied life, I have never had a dealing: nor am likely to have after this remonstrance, to look upon a man as man, not as a pocket. I do not mean to assert that a coronet is not a most graceful appendage, and coin a most con- venient element, in a marrying man; but a noble 61 heart, and a rich intellect are not utterly valueless, hut to minds devoid of both. After all, it is no affair of mine, this English heart-market; I am neither a daughter nor a fatherso, peace to the good, and repentance to the evil, and let us away to the quiet Nile, for We have many a distant pafla to tread, By pensive fancy, not by fiction led. ERA GMENT. On! come to me now, for my sorrows are past, And the cloud on my heart is dissolvd at last; Spirit of Poesy, come from above, Come, on the wings of nature and love! Come, while the yellow light streams thro the pane, And thee air is fresh with the morning rain, And, the wind is up with its sweet wild voice, Like a song of sorrow that bids us rejoice. Come, mid fancies gathering fast, Mid thoughts of the present, and thoughts of the past; Oh! come to me now! t is thy chosen hour, And the spirits of evil no longer have power! From Knights Quarterly Magazine. THE STOLEN KISS. TVritten in a Ladys Aibson by the late Abraham Gem. tian, Esq. Seeoornn be that browand chasd the frown Yet gathering to thy tardy will Nor think to awe my raptures down, For anger snakes thee lovelier still. In vain thou wouldst compel the ire But lightly felt, but faintly shown; Thine eyes betray beneath their fire The pardon then wouldst blush to own. Then, still that proudly swelling breast, Soften that lovely, mantling cheek; was but a Kiss, that well expressd The tenderness I could not speak. I ENVY thee thou careless wind So light, so wild, thy wandering, Thou hast no earthly chain to bind One fetter on thine airy wing ; I envy thee, thou careless wind! The flowers first sigh of blossoming, The harps soft note, the woodlarks song, All unto thee their treasures bring, All to thy fairy reign belong; I envy thee, thou careless wind! Thy jocund wing oer ocean roves, An echo to the sea-maids lay; Then over rose and orange groves, Thy fragrant breath exhales away ; I envy thee, thou careless wind! 62 THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. From the Monthly Magazine. absurd; he would have cut me down with his THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. To WRITE an anonymous letter is ungentle- manly; of this there can be no doubtnay more, it is mean, dastardly, skulking, depraved! But what could I do l Colonel Plinth was about to marry his cook To write an anonymous letter is degrading, to say the least: it would require the skill of a sophist to render it justifiableperhaps ; and yet when Colonel Plinth was going to marry his cook A vixena perfect Saracen of a woman behind his back; and he a man of nice honor; who had gained golden laurels at Seringapataman aid-dc- camp to Sir David Bairdmy friend! The intel- ligence had come like a thunder-bolt. To write an anonymous letter, except under the most imperative circumstances, is unquestionably atrocious. I felt that, even posited as I was with the most benevolent intentionsconscience my conscience, as a gentleman and an officer, would hesitate to approve of it. I pausedI de- termined to weigh the matter well; but the con- viction fell upon me like an avalanche that not a moment was to be lost Colonel Pliuth was on the eve of marrying his cook Rebecca Moggs! And he my brother-in-law the widowed husband of my sainted sistera K. C. B.a wearer of four medals, two crosses, and the order of the golden fleecea man who had received the thanks of Parliamentthe written approbation of my Lord Clivetwo freedoms in gold boxes :a man who, h~d he nobly fell on the ramparts of Tippoos capital, would have been taken home in rum, and buried in St. Pauls. His fragmenthis living remains(for he pos- sessed only one organ of a sorthaving lost a leg, an arm, an eye, and a nostril)had resolved on what I considered a sort of demi-post mortem match, withwhat A blowsy, underhung menial, whose only merit consisted in cooking mulligatawny, and rubbing with a soft, fat palm the wounded ankle of his partially efficient leg; the illegitimate offspring of a Sepoy pioneefs trull; a creature whom my lovely and accomplished sister had taken from the breast of her dead mother, (the womana camp- followerreceived an iron ball in her brain from one of Tippoos guerilla troops in the jungle,) one whom Evadne had brought up, with maternal care, in her kitchen ;a scullion! And such a one to be Colonel Plinth~s wifeto take the place of Evadne! Good God! To write an anonymous letter is rather revolt- ing; much may be said against it; it is ones der- itoer resort; still it has its advantagesand why neglect them Had Colonel Plinth not been what he waswere he but a casual acquaintance or a mere friendthen indeed But he was my brother-in-lawmy brother in armsin a word, Colonel Plinth. had he been a man who would listen to reason who was open to convictionto whom one might venture to speakwhy really But he was hot as curry ;yet not deficient in sense ;but dreadfully opinionatedtechyeasily susceptible of feeling himself insultedcareful as to keeping his pistol-case in such a state as to be rea(ly at a moments noticea being inflamed in l)ody, soul, and complexion, by the spices and sun of the burnin~ East. To remonstrate with him would have been crutch :he had amassed three thousand a-year. To write an anonymous letter was not exactly the sort of thing; but why see him rush into a match which would dishonor himself, and shed a sort of retrospective shame on my sainted sister l The cook was far from immaculate. A native- servant whom I discharged attalcutta for repeat- edly staying out all nigbtlut why expose the weak side of humanity l And another young fellow of her acquaintance, whom I pardoiied for having robbed me, on condi- tion of his frankly confessing all his misdemean- ors Besides, there was Larry the trumpeter And one or two more. Under such circumstancesconscious of his in- fatuation, I ceased to waver: the end sanctified the means; and I wrote him ah anonymous letter. She, of course, would make a point of having childrenand then where were my expectations I Evadne had never been a mother; the Colonel was the only Pliuth in the universe; and, posited as I wasEvadne being the linkI naturally had expectations. To say nothing of being nine years my senior, he was a wrecka fiery wreck, full of combusti- bles, burning gradually to the waters edge. The sun of his happiness, would, as I felt, set forever, the moment. lie married such a creature as Moggsinnately vulgarrepulsivedouble-chin- nedtumidprotuberant. Social festivity was everything to Colonel Plinth; but who would dine with him, if his ce-divant cook were to carve I Evadnes adopted; Larry the trumpeters love! I could nt! Therefore, under a sense of overwhelming duty to Colonel Pliuth, I wrote him an anony- mous letter. Every precaution was taken; the hand was dis- guisedthe paper such as I had never used; and, to crown all, I dropped the important document in a distant and very out-of-the way post-office. Conscious of perfect securityanimated by the cause I had espoused, I played away upon him, from my masked battery, with prodigious vehe- mence. Reserve was out of the question; in an anonymous letter, the writer, of course, speaks out; this is its great advantage. I took a rapid review of his achievementsI recalled the accom- plished Evadne to his minds eyeI contrasted her with his present intended Larry the trum- peter figured in, and the forcible expression as to Cmsars wife was not forgotten. I rebukedi arguedi ridiculedI scorned I appealed to his prideI mentioned his person. 1 bade him consult a chevel glass, and ask himself if the reihec- tion were that of a would-be bridegroom. I told him how old he waswhat the Indian army would thinkin short, the letter carried upon the face of it the perfect conviction of a thirty-two pounder. Here and there I was literally ferocious. I dined alone that day, and was takieig my wine in the coml)lacent consciousness of having done all in my power, when Colonel Phioth knocked. CC course I knew hid kneck: it was always violent; but on this occasion ratl:cr less so than usual. I felt flurried ; as he ascended, my accurate ear detected a strange footstep on the stair. Hastily pouring out and gulping down a bumper, I con- trived to rally before my friend entered. Commonly his countenance was turbidbillowy rufus the red ~ea in a storm ;now it was

62 THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. From the Monthly Magazine. absurd; he would have cut me down with his THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. To WRITE an anonymous letter is ungentle- manly; of this there can be no doubtnay more, it is mean, dastardly, skulking, depraved! But what could I do l Colonel Plinth was about to marry his cook To write an anonymous letter is degrading, to say the least: it would require the skill of a sophist to render it justifiableperhaps ; and yet when Colonel Plinth was going to marry his cook A vixena perfect Saracen of a woman behind his back; and he a man of nice honor; who had gained golden laurels at Seringapataman aid-dc- camp to Sir David Bairdmy friend! The intel- ligence had come like a thunder-bolt. To write an anonymous letter, except under the most imperative circumstances, is unquestionably atrocious. I felt that, even posited as I was with the most benevolent intentionsconscience my conscience, as a gentleman and an officer, would hesitate to approve of it. I pausedI de- termined to weigh the matter well; but the con- viction fell upon me like an avalanche that not a moment was to be lost Colonel Pliuth was on the eve of marrying his cook Rebecca Moggs! And he my brother-in-law the widowed husband of my sainted sistera K. C. B.a wearer of four medals, two crosses, and the order of the golden fleecea man who had received the thanks of Parliamentthe written approbation of my Lord Clivetwo freedoms in gold boxes :a man who, h~d he nobly fell on the ramparts of Tippoos capital, would have been taken home in rum, and buried in St. Pauls. His fragmenthis living remains(for he pos- sessed only one organ of a sorthaving lost a leg, an arm, an eye, and a nostril)had resolved on what I considered a sort of demi-post mortem match, withwhat A blowsy, underhung menial, whose only merit consisted in cooking mulligatawny, and rubbing with a soft, fat palm the wounded ankle of his partially efficient leg; the illegitimate offspring of a Sepoy pioneefs trull; a creature whom my lovely and accomplished sister had taken from the breast of her dead mother, (the womana camp- followerreceived an iron ball in her brain from one of Tippoos guerilla troops in the jungle,) one whom Evadne had brought up, with maternal care, in her kitchen ;a scullion! And such a one to be Colonel Plinth~s wifeto take the place of Evadne! Good God! To write an anonymous letter is rather revolt- ing; much may be said against it; it is ones der- itoer resort; still it has its advantagesand why neglect them Had Colonel Plinth not been what he waswere he but a casual acquaintance or a mere friendthen indeed But he was my brother-in-lawmy brother in armsin a word, Colonel Plinth. had he been a man who would listen to reason who was open to convictionto whom one might venture to speakwhy really But he was hot as curry ;yet not deficient in sense ;but dreadfully opinionatedtechyeasily susceptible of feeling himself insultedcareful as to keeping his pistol-case in such a state as to be rea(ly at a moments noticea being inflamed in l)ody, soul, and complexion, by the spices and sun of the burnin~ East. To remonstrate with him would have been crutch :he had amassed three thousand a-year. To write an anonymous letter was not exactly the sort of thing; but why see him rush into a match which would dishonor himself, and shed a sort of retrospective shame on my sainted sister l The cook was far from immaculate. A native- servant whom I discharged attalcutta for repeat- edly staying out all nigbtlut why expose the weak side of humanity l And another young fellow of her acquaintance, whom I pardoiied for having robbed me, on condi- tion of his frankly confessing all his misdemean- ors Besides, there was Larry the trumpeter And one or two more. Under such circumstancesconscious of his in- fatuation, I ceased to waver: the end sanctified the means; and I wrote him ah anonymous letter. She, of course, would make a point of having childrenand then where were my expectations I Evadne had never been a mother; the Colonel was the only Pliuth in the universe; and, posited as I wasEvadne being the linkI naturally had expectations. To say nothing of being nine years my senior, he was a wrecka fiery wreck, full of combusti- bles, burning gradually to the waters edge. The sun of his happiness, would, as I felt, set forever, the moment. lie married such a creature as Moggsinnately vulgarrepulsivedouble-chin- nedtumidprotuberant. Social festivity was everything to Colonel Plinth; but who would dine with him, if his ce-divant cook were to carve I Evadnes adopted; Larry the trumpeters love! I could nt! Therefore, under a sense of overwhelming duty to Colonel Pliuth, I wrote him an anony- mous letter. Every precaution was taken; the hand was dis- guisedthe paper such as I had never used; and, to crown all, I dropped the important document in a distant and very out-of-the way post-office. Conscious of perfect securityanimated by the cause I had espoused, I played away upon him, from my masked battery, with prodigious vehe- mence. Reserve was out of the question; in an anonymous letter, the writer, of course, speaks out; this is its great advantage. I took a rapid review of his achievementsI recalled the accom- plished Evadne to his minds eyeI contrasted her with his present intended Larry the trum- peter figured in, and the forcible expression as to Cmsars wife was not forgotten. I rebukedi arguedi ridiculedI scorned I appealed to his prideI mentioned his person. 1 bade him consult a chevel glass, and ask himself if the reihec- tion were that of a would-be bridegroom. I told him how old he waswhat the Indian army would thinkin short, the letter carried upon the face of it the perfect conviction of a thirty-two pounder. Here and there I was literally ferocious. I dined alone that day, and was takieig my wine in the coml)lacent consciousness of having done all in my power, when Colonel Phioth knocked. CC course I knew hid kneck: it was always violent; but on this occasion ratl:cr less so than usual. I felt flurried ; as he ascended, my accurate ear detected a strange footstep on the stair. Hastily pouring out and gulping down a bumper, I con- trived to rally before my friend entered. Commonly his countenance was turbidbillowy rufus the red ~ea in a storm ;now it was THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 63 stonypaleimplacable; he was evidently white two announcements in the public prints, which hot with wrath. His eyeusually lurid as that form valuable appendages to Major Mocassins of a Cyclops at the forgexvas coldclear document. The first extract is trom a London icy; his look froze meI had seen him thus before journal, published in 1819; the second, from a in the breach at Seringapatam. Bath paper of two years later date. His salute was charmingly courteous; he beg- No. I. ged leave to introduce a friendBaron Cahooz, a noble Swede in the Prussian service. Never be- day, at his own residence in Wimpole fore had I beheld such a martinetwhere could street, by special license, Colonel Plinth, K. C. B., Pliuth have picked him up to Rebecca Louisa Moggs, a native of Masulipa- The Baron, in very good English, expressed his tam. The gallant Colonel ~vent through the cere- concern at makin~ so valuable an acquaintance as mony with his only remaining arm in a sling that of Major Mocassin under such infelicitous having a few hours before exchanged shotsboth circumstances. Colonel Pliuth had been insulted: of which took effectwith Major Mocassin. but as I had so long been his most valued friend No. II. as we had fought and bled on the same fieldsas The busy tongue of fame reports that a gal- those arms (his right and my left.) which had been lant Major, who served with distinction, and lost so often linked together, were mouldering, side by an arm, under Sir David Baird, in Lhe East Indies, side, in the same graveas I was his brother-in- is about to lead to the altar the dashing relict and law, Colonel Plinth would accept of the amplest sole legatee of a brave and affluent brother officer, possible apology :with any other man than Ma- who recently died at Cheltenham. A mutual jor Mocassin, Colonel Plinth would have gone to attachment is supposed to have been long in extremities at once. existence; for the bridegroom elect fought a duel I was petrified during this speech; but at its on the ladys account, with her late husband, on conclusion some sort of an inquiry staggered from the very morning of the marriage. Pecuniary my lips. motives may perhaps have influenced the fair one Baron Cahooz did not understand. in giving her hand on that occasion to the gallant I declared myself to be in the same predica- Majors more fortunate rival.~ ment would he be so good as to explain l In reply, the Baron hinted that I must be con- scions of having written Colonel Pliuth a letter. Fearing that Plinths suspicions had been From the Independent Weekly Press. aroused, and that this was a ruse to trap me into The following beautiful charade is worthy of the a confessionremembering my precautionsand distinguished poet whose name it signifies: feeling sure that nothing could, by any possibility, Come from my Firstaye come! be brought home to me, unless I turned traitor to The battle dawn is nigh; myselfI denied the imputation point blank! In- deed, what else could 1 do And the screaming trump, and the thundering drum, Colonel Plinth uttered an exclamation of bitter Are calling thee to die! contempt, and hobbled towards the door. Fight as thy father fought, Baron Cahooz handed me his card :nothing Fall as thy father fell; further could be done he hoped the friend whom Thy task is taught, thy shroud is wrought, I might honor on the occasion would see him as So farewell !and farewell! early as possible, in order to expedite the neces- sary arrangements. Toll ye my Second toll! I made a last effort. Advancing towards the Fling high the flambcaus light; door, where Plinth stood, I begged to protest that And sing the hymn of a parted soul, I was mystifiedthat he must be laboring under a Beneath the silent night! mistake. A mistake ! shouted he, in that tremendous The wreath upon his head, tone, which for a moment had once appalled the The cross upon his breast, tiger-hearted Tippoo A mistake, Major Mocas- Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed; sin! There s no mistake, sirrah! Will you deny Sotake him to his rest. your own hand-writing? So saying, he threw the letter in my face, and Call ye my Wholeaye call retired, followed by Cahooz. The lord of lute and lay! In another moment the veil was torn asunder. And let him greet the sable pall Having never before attempted an anonymous let- With a noble song to-day. ter, and acting under the influence of confirmed Go, call him by his name; habit, I had concluded the fatal epistle, without No fitter hand may crave disguise, in my customary terms : Yours, erer, To light the flame of a soldiers fame JOHN MocAssiN! On the turf of a soldiers grave. NOTE. The foregoing paper was drawn up and sent to WHEN heavenly sounds about my ears, his cousin in Kentucky by Major Mocassin, a few Like winds throu0h Edens tree-tops, rise hours after Colonel Pliuth and Baron Cahooz had quitted him. On the inside of the envelop appears And make me, though my spirit hears, the following: Tis now midnightRear Ad- For very luxury close my eyes miral Jenkinson has settled every thing with the Let none but friends be round about, Baron, to their mutual satisfaction; we are to be Who tove the soothing joy like me; oii the ground by six in the morning. If I fall That so the charm be felt throughout, After considerable research, we have discovered And all be harmony.

THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 63 stonypaleimplacable; he was evidently white two announcements in the public prints, which hot with wrath. His eyeusually lurid as that form valuable appendages to Major Mocassins of a Cyclops at the forgexvas coldclear document. The first extract is trom a London icy; his look froze meI had seen him thus before journal, published in 1819; the second, from a in the breach at Seringapatam. Bath paper of two years later date. His salute was charmingly courteous; he beg- No. I. ged leave to introduce a friendBaron Cahooz, a noble Swede in the Prussian service. Never be- day, at his own residence in Wimpole fore had I beheld such a martinetwhere could street, by special license, Colonel Plinth, K. C. B., Pliuth have picked him up to Rebecca Louisa Moggs, a native of Masulipa- The Baron, in very good English, expressed his tam. The gallant Colonel ~vent through the cere- concern at makin~ so valuable an acquaintance as mony with his only remaining arm in a sling that of Major Mocassin under such infelicitous having a few hours before exchanged shotsboth circumstances. Colonel Pliuth had been insulted: of which took effectwith Major Mocassin. but as I had so long been his most valued friend No. II. as we had fought and bled on the same fieldsas The busy tongue of fame reports that a gal- those arms (his right and my left.) which had been lant Major, who served with distinction, and lost so often linked together, were mouldering, side by an arm, under Sir David Baird, in Lhe East Indies, side, in the same graveas I was his brother-in- is about to lead to the altar the dashing relict and law, Colonel Plinth would accept of the amplest sole legatee of a brave and affluent brother officer, possible apology :with any other man than Ma- who recently died at Cheltenham. A mutual jor Mocassin, Colonel Plinth would have gone to attachment is supposed to have been long in extremities at once. existence; for the bridegroom elect fought a duel I was petrified during this speech; but at its on the ladys account, with her late husband, on conclusion some sort of an inquiry staggered from the very morning of the marriage. Pecuniary my lips. motives may perhaps have influenced the fair one Baron Cahooz did not understand. in giving her hand on that occasion to the gallant I declared myself to be in the same predica- Majors more fortunate rival.~ ment would he be so good as to explain l In reply, the Baron hinted that I must be con- scions of having written Colonel Pliuth a letter. Fearing that Plinths suspicions had been From the Independent Weekly Press. aroused, and that this was a ruse to trap me into The following beautiful charade is worthy of the a confessionremembering my precautionsand distinguished poet whose name it signifies: feeling sure that nothing could, by any possibility, Come from my Firstaye come! be brought home to me, unless I turned traitor to The battle dawn is nigh; myselfI denied the imputation point blank! In- deed, what else could 1 do And the screaming trump, and the thundering drum, Colonel Plinth uttered an exclamation of bitter Are calling thee to die! contempt, and hobbled towards the door. Fight as thy father fought, Baron Cahooz handed me his card :nothing Fall as thy father fell; further could be done he hoped the friend whom Thy task is taught, thy shroud is wrought, I might honor on the occasion would see him as So farewell !and farewell! early as possible, in order to expedite the neces- sary arrangements. Toll ye my Second toll! I made a last effort. Advancing towards the Fling high the flambcaus light; door, where Plinth stood, I begged to protest that And sing the hymn of a parted soul, I was mystifiedthat he must be laboring under a Beneath the silent night! mistake. A mistake ! shouted he, in that tremendous The wreath upon his head, tone, which for a moment had once appalled the The cross upon his breast, tiger-hearted Tippoo A mistake, Major Mocas- Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed; sin! There s no mistake, sirrah! Will you deny Sotake him to his rest. your own hand-writing? So saying, he threw the letter in my face, and Call ye my Wholeaye call retired, followed by Cahooz. The lord of lute and lay! In another moment the veil was torn asunder. And let him greet the sable pall Having never before attempted an anonymous let- With a noble song to-day. ter, and acting under the influence of confirmed Go, call him by his name; habit, I had concluded the fatal epistle, without No fitter hand may crave disguise, in my customary terms : Yours, erer, To light the flame of a soldiers fame JOHN MocAssiN! On the turf of a soldiers grave. NOTE. The foregoing paper was drawn up and sent to WHEN heavenly sounds about my ears, his cousin in Kentucky by Major Mocassin, a few Like winds throu0h Edens tree-tops, rise hours after Colonel Pliuth and Baron Cahooz had quitted him. On the inside of the envelop appears And make me, though my spirit hears, the following: Tis now midnightRear Ad- For very luxury close my eyes miral Jenkinson has settled every thing with the Let none but friends be round about, Baron, to their mutual satisfaction; we are to be Who tove the soothing joy like me; oii the ground by six in the morning. If I fall That so the charm be felt throughout, After considerable research, we have discovered And all be harmony.

THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. 63 stonypaleimplacable; he was evidently white two announcements in the public prints, which hot with wrath. His eyeusually lurid as that form valuable appendages to Major Mocassins of a Cyclops at the forgexvas coldclear document. The first extract is trom a London icy; his look froze meI had seen him thus before journal, published in 1819; the second, from a in the breach at Seringapatam. Bath paper of two years later date. His salute was charmingly courteous; he beg- No. I. ged leave to introduce a friendBaron Cahooz, a noble Swede in the Prussian service. Never be- day, at his own residence in Wimpole fore had I beheld such a martinetwhere could street, by special license, Colonel Plinth, K. C. B., Pliuth have picked him up to Rebecca Louisa Moggs, a native of Masulipa- The Baron, in very good English, expressed his tam. The gallant Colonel ~vent through the cere- concern at makin~ so valuable an acquaintance as mony with his only remaining arm in a sling that of Major Mocassin under such infelicitous having a few hours before exchanged shotsboth circumstances. Colonel Pliuth had been insulted: of which took effectwith Major Mocassin. but as I had so long been his most valued friend No. II. as we had fought and bled on the same fieldsas The busy tongue of fame reports that a gal- those arms (his right and my left.) which had been lant Major, who served with distinction, and lost so often linked together, were mouldering, side by an arm, under Sir David Baird, in Lhe East Indies, side, in the same graveas I was his brother-in- is about to lead to the altar the dashing relict and law, Colonel Plinth would accept of the amplest sole legatee of a brave and affluent brother officer, possible apology :with any other man than Ma- who recently died at Cheltenham. A mutual jor Mocassin, Colonel Plinth would have gone to attachment is supposed to have been long in extremities at once. existence; for the bridegroom elect fought a duel I was petrified during this speech; but at its on the ladys account, with her late husband, on conclusion some sort of an inquiry staggered from the very morning of the marriage. Pecuniary my lips. motives may perhaps have influenced the fair one Baron Cahooz did not understand. in giving her hand on that occasion to the gallant I declared myself to be in the same predica- Majors more fortunate rival.~ ment would he be so good as to explain l In reply, the Baron hinted that I must be con- scions of having written Colonel Pliuth a letter. Fearing that Plinths suspicions had been From the Independent Weekly Press. aroused, and that this was a ruse to trap me into The following beautiful charade is worthy of the a confessionremembering my precautionsand distinguished poet whose name it signifies: feeling sure that nothing could, by any possibility, Come from my Firstaye come! be brought home to me, unless I turned traitor to The battle dawn is nigh; myselfI denied the imputation point blank! In- deed, what else could 1 do And the screaming trump, and the thundering drum, Colonel Plinth uttered an exclamation of bitter Are calling thee to die! contempt, and hobbled towards the door. Fight as thy father fought, Baron Cahooz handed me his card :nothing Fall as thy father fell; further could be done he hoped the friend whom Thy task is taught, thy shroud is wrought, I might honor on the occasion would see him as So farewell !and farewell! early as possible, in order to expedite the neces- sary arrangements. Toll ye my Second toll! I made a last effort. Advancing towards the Fling high the flambcaus light; door, where Plinth stood, I begged to protest that And sing the hymn of a parted soul, I was mystifiedthat he must be laboring under a Beneath the silent night! mistake. A mistake ! shouted he, in that tremendous The wreath upon his head, tone, which for a moment had once appalled the The cross upon his breast, tiger-hearted Tippoo A mistake, Major Mocas- Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed; sin! There s no mistake, sirrah! Will you deny Sotake him to his rest. your own hand-writing? So saying, he threw the letter in my face, and Call ye my Wholeaye call retired, followed by Cahooz. The lord of lute and lay! In another moment the veil was torn asunder. And let him greet the sable pall Having never before attempted an anonymous let- With a noble song to-day. ter, and acting under the influence of confirmed Go, call him by his name; habit, I had concluded the fatal epistle, without No fitter hand may crave disguise, in my customary terms : Yours, erer, To light the flame of a soldiers fame JOHN MocAssiN! On the turf of a soldiers grave. NOTE. The foregoing paper was drawn up and sent to WHEN heavenly sounds about my ears, his cousin in Kentucky by Major Mocassin, a few Like winds throu0h Edens tree-tops, rise hours after Colonel Pliuth and Baron Cahooz had quitted him. On the inside of the envelop appears And make me, though my spirit hears, the following: Tis now midnightRear Ad- For very luxury close my eyes miral Jenkinson has settled every thing with the Let none but friends be round about, Baron, to their mutual satisfaction; we are to be Who tove the soothing joy like me; oii the ground by six in the morning. If I fall That so the charm be felt throughout, After considerable research, we have discovered And all be harmony. THE ROYAL GEORGE BiLLIARD TABLE. [It was said that the Queen was to have a billiard table made out of the timbers of the Royal Georgeon which Punch presents the following petition.] MAY IT PLEASE YOUR MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY Although of a humble stock, and although my wife, Madam Judy, has not been presented at your Majestys court, yet we humbly declare that the whole court doth not contain two more loyal and duteous Subjects. May it please your Majesty, we are very old; we have been in the custom of mixing for centuries past with every class of the people of this king- dom, and we are enemies to no manner of sport wherewith they amuse themselves. Billiards, among others, is a good sport. It has the privilege of uniting many honorable gentlemen daily together of the army, of the universities, and of the swell mob, at the watering-places. It has the eminent merit of leading to the detection of many rogues and swindlers; it keeps many in- genious markers, brandy-merchants, and soda- water venders in honorable maintenance, and is a great aid and patron of the tobacco trade, thereby vastly increasing the revenues of your Majestys government. With that sport then we are far from quarrel- ling. But there is for this and for all other games a time and place. Thus in the late Mr. Hogarths facetious print (I knew the gentleman very well) the Beadle is represented as caning the Idle Apprentice for playing at marblesno, not for playing at marbles, but playing on a grave-stone during Sunday service. In like manner, were I to set up my show before St. Jamess Church during service hours, or under your Majestys tri- umphal arch at Pimlico, or in the Bishop of Lon- dons drawing-roomit is likely, not that the Beadle would cane me, for that I would.resist, bu~ that persons in blue habiliments, oil-skin hatted, white-lettered, and pewter-buttonedpolicemen tn a word, would carry me before one of your Majes- tys justices of the peace. My crime would be, not the performance of my tragedy of Punch but its performance in an improper manner and time. Ah, Madame! Take this apologue into your royal consideration, and recollect that as is Punch and marbles so are BILLIARDS. They too may be played at a wrong place. If it is wrong to play at marbles on a tombstone, is it just to play at billiards on a coffinan indifferent coffinanybodys coffin Is such a sport quite just, feeling, decorous, and honorable? Perhaps your Majesty is not aware, what the wreck of the Royal George really is. Sixty years ago its fate made no small sensation. Eight hun- dred gallant men, your royal grandfathers sub- jects, went down to death in that great ship. The whole realm of England was stirred and terrified by their awful fatethe clergy spoke of it from their pulpitsthe greatest poet then alive wrote one of the noblest ballads in our language, which as long as the language will endure shall per- petuate the melaIlelloly story. Would your Majesty wish Mr. Thomas Campbell to continue the work of i\lr. William Cowper, and tell what has mow become of the wreck? Lo ! it is a billiard-table, over which his Royal Highness the Prince de Joinville may be knocking about red balls and yellowor his Sei~enity the Prince of Hoheuzollen Sigmaringen may be caranlboling with his coat off. Ah, Madame! may your royal fingers never touch a cue; it is a losing hazard that you will play at that board. The papers say there is somewhere engraved in copper on the table, a suitable inscription. What is it I fancy it might run thus ~~THIS BILLIARD TABLE IS FORMED OF PART OF TIlE TIMBERS OF TME ROYAL GEORGE MAN-OF-WARS OF 100 GUNS, WHICH WENT DOWN ON THE 29TH AUGUST, 1782. EIGHT HUNDRED SEAMEN PERISHED ON BOARD~ IN THE SERVICE OF THEIR COUNTRY AND THEIR RING. HONOR BE TO THE BRAYE WHO DIE IN SUCH A SERVICE. AS A FITTING MARE OF HER SENSE OF THESE BRAYE MEN S MISFORTUNES, AS A TESTIMONY OF SYMPATHY FOR THEIR FATE, AS AN ENCOURAGEMENT TO ENGLISHMEN TO BRAVE THEIR LIYES IN SIMILAR PERILS, IN HOPES THAT FUTURE SOVEREIGNS MAY AWARD PHEM SIMILAR DELICATE SYMPATHY; ABOVE ALL, AS A STEEN MONUMENT OF THE VANITY OF MILITARY GLORY~ THE USELESSNESS OF AMBITION, AND THE FOLLY OF FIDELITY, WHICH EXPECTS ANY REWARD BUT ITSELF~ HER MAJESTY, QUEEN VICTORIA, BAS GRACIOUSLY CAUSED THIS PLAY-TABLE TO BE MADE FROM THE TIMBERS OF THE FAITHFUL~ USE[AS5~ WORN-OUT OLD VESSEL.~~ * * * * * * We stop the press, to announce that the billiard- table out of the Royal George has been counter- manded, and that the remaining cart-loads of tim- ber have been purchased to decorate the new chapel at Windsor Castle. STANZAS. YESlabor, love! and toil would please, Were toil and labor borne for thee; And fortunes nursling, lapped on ease, In wealth of heart be poor to me! Why should I pant for sordid gain? Or why Ambitions voice believe? - Since, dearest, thou dost not disdain The only gift I have to give. Time would with speed of lightnlng flee, And every hour a eomfort bring, And days and years employed for thee Shake pleasures from their passing wsng. CAMOENS. 64