f5"- SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. VOLUME III. JANUARY TO JUNE, 1834. PLYMOUTH : G, AND J. HEARDER. ^fe CONTENTS OF VOLUME III. Amra, 12, 58, 101, 141 Affectation, 25 Athenaeum of the Plymouth Institution, Proceed- ings in 30, 76, 124, 167 Ancient and Modern Travelling in Devonshire, Mr. H. Woollcombe's Lecture on 37 Autographs and Notices of celebrated men 222 Adventure with a Shark, 253 Battle of Malplaquet, Col. C. H. Smith's Lec- ture on 78 Bachelor's Blessedness, No. II., 110 III., 135 . Round the fourth, 197 Buckland Abbey, 177 Countess of Harrington, 121 Cooke, T. P. 122 Combustion, Mr. W. S. Harris' Lecture on 172 Cornish Language, The 201 Definition of Poetry, 7 1 Discovery of the manufacture of Diamonds, 174 Dress of the inhabitants of England at the close of the fifteenth century, 175 Discourse on Screech Owls, A 241 Extensive View, 212 Fine Arts, Mr. Norman's Lecture on the 169 Female Acquirements, On 208 Gas Works, Plymouth, 45 Grave of the Indian King; The 215, 236 Insanity, Mr. P. Swain's Lecture on 34 Ireland, Practicability of Improving, and great encouragement for joint-stock companies, 187, 229 Literary Notices No. 5., 9 6., 115 7., 150 Linguistics, Mr. Prideaux' Lecture on 128 Logic, Mr. W. R. Bennett's Lecture on 129 Luminous appearance of the Sea, 159 Land Storm in the tropics, A 227 VI Microscopic objects, 39 Mineral riches of our vicinity, 65, 97 Mode of cutting glass with a red-hot iron, 96 Mrs. Wood, 121 Macready and the Shrewsbury butchers, 122 Moral Philosophy, Mr. R. N. Barnes' Lecture on 126 Method of rendering glass opaque, 132 Marriage, 183 Natural history of the neighbourhood, 49, 91, 162, 205, 247 Naval architecture, Mr. Chatfield's lecture on 76 Nine years of an Actor's life, 115 National Education, Rev. S. Nicholson's lecture on 171 Origin of balloon sleeves, commonly called gigot sleeves, The 53 Old Town Conduit, Plymouth, 89 Plym and Tamar Humane Society, 85 Perambulator, The, No. VII., 89 Practicability of Improving Ireland, Mr. Purdon's lecture on, 171 Queries, 27 Recorder of the borough of Plymouth, Some ac- count of the appointment of a 20 Rise and progress of Gas Illumination, Mr. Adams' Lecture on the 30 Relations existing between electricity, magnetism, and heat, Mr. Harris' Lecture on the 77 Rhetoric, Rev. B. St. John's Lecture on 124 Spectator, No. V., The 85 St. Andrew's Church, Plymouth, 133 Sound, Dr. Budd's Lecture on 167 Slander, On 225 Staddon Heights in May, 260 Tavistock Abbey, 1 Transactions of the Plymouth Institution, The 9 Tides, Mr. Walker's Lecture on the 83 Three Points of wit, The 254 Valley of the Nymphs, The 150 West Indian Society, Original communications on, No. III., 138 Vll POETRY. Asian and Vasiliki, 28 Age and the Spirit of Life 95 Buckland Abbey, , 182 Burial at Sea, A 233 Consumptive, The 134 Come to the weary ones, 214 Death of Sappho, The 57 Dreams of our early days, 204 Funereal Sketches, No. XL, 11 XII, 56 XIII, 57 XIV, 108 XV, 108 XVI, 134 — XVII, 185 XVIII, 185 XIX, 233 XX, 235 False Lures, 185 Farewell to Eva, 251 Ground swell, The 100 Grana Weal's Garland, Lamentation of fighting Fitzgerald's Ghost, 137 Grave in the Ocean, A 223 Grave in the Chancel, A 235 How they died, 185 Infant's tomb, The 108 Invocation, 166 Last Plague, The 161 Lay of the wandering Arab, 245 Love, 246 Mrs. Calmady's two children, Lines on seeing the Painting, by Sir Thomas Lawrence, of Margaret, to 70 Our Village queen, 11 Olivia, To 48 One of the dispersed, 1 08 Persian, Lines from thf 44 Till Past, The 149 Ruth, 18 River Plym, To the 176 Soul of Julia, To the 90 Selina,To 114 Swan, The 214 Song to the Rose, A 240 To 64 Ten thousand at the Sacred Mount, The 219 Verses, 75 Valley of the Nymphs, The, 151 Wasted affection, 56 War song, 157 Warbstow Barrow, 200 LIST OF ENGRAVINGS, IN VOLUME III. Tavistock Abbey, to face page 1 Ordulph's Tomb, Tavistock Abbey, 5 The Sarcophagus of Ordulph, Tavistock, 5 Proboscis of a Tubanus, magnified, 40 - natural size, 40 Eyes of the Libellula, magnified, 41 , natural size, 41 Leg of the Leucospis Dorsigera, magnified, 41 , natural size, 42 Scales of a Sole magnified, 42 , natural size, 42 Salt of Amber, magnified, 43 Interior of the Gas Works, Plymouth, to face page 45 An Equimaux Lady in her boots, 55 Old Town Conduit, Plymouth, to face page 89 St. Andrew's Church, Plymouth, to face page 133 Buckland Abbey, to face page 177 Autographs of Lord Howard, Earl of Nottingham, Earl of Essex, Lord Burghley, Ro. Cecyll, Earl of Salisbury, Lord Hunsdon, Sir Francis Drake, Sir John Fortescue, Richard Carew, of Anthony, Esq., Lord Ellesmere, and Sar- 7'^Njeant Glanville, to face page 221 7 API? 22 THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, JANUARY 1, 1834. No. 13.] PRICE SIXPENCE. [VOL. III. TAVISTOCK ABBEY. IT appears obvious, on reflection, that the world, in its primitive age, was in its infancy : in this view of its early stage, it is evidently absurd to apply to that period the term — Antiquity. Now is the time of its old age ; and we, not excluding from the honour the blooming and the fair, are the ancients. Of late it is fashionable to quote Bacon, under the sonorous title of Lord Verulam : Why should we not comply with the fashion, and adopt his expression, respecting the youth of the world, as it is prematurely called its anti- quity. " Antiquitas seculi, Juventas Mundi." Were I gifted with the inventive powers and ready wit of the gentleman, who furnished your Museum with " The Legend of the Abbey Tower/' I might be prompted by an impulse of friendly emulation to unfold a tale of the days of yore, involving the fates of inno- cence and excellence, in a manner, that would excite the curiosity, and gratify the taste, of some of your readers. Mine is a humbler aim, and an easier effort to direct, their attention to the Monastic Institutions ; which of old adorned our county with their magnificent struc- tures, and still challenge our veneration by their mouldering remains. In defiance of the antipathy of modern bigotry to what is deemed ancient fanaticism ; and the prudish disdain of the children, who protest Against the superstitions of their fathers, under the very domes, which they erected with devout zeal and exquisite skill, in reverence of the Most High ; I will venture to recount the debts we owe our clerical ances- VOL. in. — 1834. A Z TAVISTOCK ABBEY. tors, for the preservation and advancement of the treasures of learning, and the productions of science and art ; especially during the inauspicious sway of ignorance and illiberality, of frantic terror, and war's alarms, in the middle ages. Seldom, however, as we find ourselves induced to speak in praise of this description of the clergy of other times, it should be remembered that by monks have been preserved all the classic treasures of antiquity ; by monks, husbandry and agri- culture have been improved, the most barren wastes having been fertilized by the labour of their hands, and converted into terrestrial paradises ; architecture, painting, and many other arts, found in monks the most liberal patrons : in the darker periods, they alone preserved literature from being completely extinguished in the western world ; and from monks our Saxon pre- decessors received the inestimable gift of Christianity. The hospitality of monasteries was unbounded ; the sick, the indigent, and the weary traveller being sure to meet there with relief and refreshment. The first efforts of typography, that dispenser of knowledge and guardian of liberty, were fostered in their precincts. Nor must the encouragement which they gave to the elegant style of architecture, that arose in the twelfth century, be forgotten ; and that, employed in our national edifices, civil, military, or ecclesiastical, pre- sents, even in its most shattered and inconsiderable relics, illustrative evidence of ancient foundations. Dispelling the doubtful veil, which the mist of years has spread over many traits of history, it recalls them with double force to the fancy by the very scenes in which the affairs it records were transacted. Great, indeed, was the glory of our English pointed style of architecture ; which was beautifully variega- ted, during the reign of the third Edward, by numerous decorations. Again, in the fifteenth century, it essay- ed to imitate, in the florid exuberance of its ornaments, the minutiae of lace work ; minarets, battlements, and intersecting arches were fretted in a style, which gave to stone something of the resemblance of a rich and TAVISTOCK ABBEY. 3 gorgeous vegetation.^' Much has been said as to its origin : many have been of opinion that the fortuitous intersection of circles produced the pointed arch. Perhaps the most plausible conjecture is, that it de- rived its origin from the east, and reached us through the means of the first crusaders. In the Myvyrian Archseology, a collection of ancient writings in the old British tongue, relating to the history of Wales, is a statement that Richard Glanville, a Norman Knight, on his return from the Holy Land, founded the Abbey of Neath, that he brought with him an architect from the land of Canaan, called Lalys, who constructed the most celebrated castles and monasteries in Wales, and afterwards went to London, and became architect to King Henry I. ; that he taught his art to many of the Welsh and English. The eminent traveller, Dr. Clarke, states that he saw, at St. Jean d'Acre, an edi- fice attributed to the time of the crusaders, in the pointed style of architecture, and another of the same class he designates as one of the finest structures in the Holy Land; vide Itin. Girald. Cambr. Item, Dr. Clarke's Travels, vol. II., pp. 381—407. The uniformity of style of architecture which per- vaded Europe in the middle ages, may, perhaps, be ascribed to the existence of a fraternity of itinerant architects and workmen, the memory of which is per- petuated in the society of Freemasons, in which per- sons of all nations still unite as brethren. Their first lodge in England was established at York, under the guidance of Sir Christopher Wren, who also formed a second lodge for those liberal architects in London. Our attention shall be directed first to Tavistock Abbey. This sacred edifice was founded in 961, by * Non avea pur natura ivi dipinlo Ma di soavita di mille odori Vi facea un incognito indistinto. Dante. Purg. VII. Her floral emblems Nature wrought in stone, — A living picture, indistinct, unknown. 4 TAVISTOCK ABBEY. Ordgar, Earl of Devon, and completed by his son, Ordulph. It was dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, and St. Rumon, bishop and confessor. St. Rumon' s festival was celebrated at Tavistock, on the fourth of January, with a fair of three days. This saint was an Irish bishop. About thirty-six years after the foundation of the Abbey, it was burnt and destroyed by those northern depredators, the Danish invaders, during the disastrous reign of King Ethelred : but it soon rose, a phoenix from its ashes, and though not so opulent as the Pri- ory of Plympton, yet it was far superior in point of dignity and local situation ; and it eclipsed every re- ligious house in Devonshire, in the extent, conveniency, and magnificence of its buildings. The kings of Eng- land, from the conquest at least, were reputed its founders and patrons. Livingus, the second of its abbots, is entitled, from his benefactions and services to Tavistock Abbey, to be considered as its restorer after the fatal conflagration by the Danes : he died in the eleventh century and was buried at Tavistock. The conventual church is said to have been 378 feet long, without including the lady's chapel. It was finally taken down in 1670. Learning was patronized at this famous abbey, a Saxon school was supported from its revenue, and ;i printing press established for the circulation of books. The famous charter, " De Libertatibus Comitatus Devon/' granted by King John, and its confirmation by his son, Henry III., were preserved in Tavistock Abbey. Bishop Stapeldon took copies of these origi- nals, and has inserted them in his register. In 1517, Richard Banham obtained from Pope Leo X. a bull of such ample and extraordinary privi- leges as expressly to exempt the Abbey of Tavistock, with its several dependencies, from all archiepiscopal and all episcopal jurisdiction, visitation, and superior- ity, and to place it under the sole and immediate pro- tection of the Holy See. As an acknowledgment for such sweeping liberality, the abbot was annually to TAVISTOCK ABBEY. ORDULPH S TOMB, TAVISTOCK ABBLY. THE SARCOPHAGUS OF ORPUIPTI, TAVISTOCK, POETRY. 7 pay to the Apostolic chamber, on the feasts of Saints Peter and Paul, half an ounce of gold, i. e. twenty shillings of lawful money of England. Several of the abbey walls and turrets still remain, monuments of its fallen grandeur. There exists a spacious arch at the principal gateway of the abbey, surmounted with a tower and spires • it appears to bear traces of the time of Henry VI. Another relic, crowned with a venerable, ivy-mantled, tower, is at present a chapel, granted to nonconformists by an earl of Bedford. The porch at its entrance is enriched with the arms of the abbey — vair, or et azure : on a chief of the first, two mullets gules. W. E. Park Wood. ON SEEING THE PAINTING, BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, OF MRS. CALMADY'S TWO CHILDREN. Sweet age of innocence ! — that sunny smile — That glance of happiness so free from guile — Are childhood's own ; — what negligence and grace Dwell in that attitude and half embrace : Tis nature's self, so exquisitely true ; Surprised, we own the skill of him who drew. No vulgar task, fair cherub ones, to paint Sincerity ere clouded by the taint Of fashion, vain formality and art, Which seek too soon their image to impart ; For who can mingle with the world nor feel Softly and secretly its maxims steal, Blotting from artless infancy each trace, And lending gloss and polish in their place '! Yet how inferior : — ah what charm can please Like sweet simplicity and native ease ? No posture studied, and no accent feigned ; Each smile, each tone, each movement unconstrained : POETRY. Nursed in the lap of luxury and love, Affection's zeal and constancy ye prove ; Heedless alike of peril or of woe, Nor grief nor dread perplexity ye know, But look so destitute of pain or care We might have deemed ye habitants of air, That to this world on kindly wing had flown, But ne'er one drop of bitterness had known. And must these features change as seasons glide ? Why not as now each lineament abide ? Must pale solicitude e'er mark the brow ? Or hope and fear those blushing cheeks avow ! Yes, ye must taste of life, nor trembling shrink. For there is honey mingled as ye drink. Though perfect happiness this world knows noU Sweet buds and blossomings adorn each lot; The thorn may threaten, yet there is the rose, And tints of Paradise its leaves disclose : Yes, there are joys, even exquisite, that bloom, And shed, unmerited, their rich perfume, Jn such variety and beauty given As prove the care and sympathy of Heaven. Be ye participants — and though the sigh May burst at times, some visitant be nigh — Some angel messenger — to lull each care, And scenes of bright futurity declare ; Yet howsoe'er ye change — these forms mature — Still must these traces infantine endure ; Fixed by the master hand of him whose name Lives in the breathing monuments of Fame. Ah in some distant day — when years have past — And springs and summers many a bounty cast — How will ye gaze with pleasure on this scene,. More valued from long interval between ; And ye will pause — and think of what ye were— And bless parental tenderness and care ; And ye will patronize the art sublime, That thus recalls the hasty wing of Time, And brings to light — from Memory's loved train — The sports and smiles of infancy again. M. G. LITERARY NOTICES.— No. V. THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. * EVERY man in Plymouth, whose means admit, ought to have this book in his library — every one who feels an honest pride in knowing that intellect will always rank higher than wealth , should patronize, as far as possible, the first literary production of the members of the Plymouth Institution. We have a better opinion of the inhabitants of this town than some would lead us to entertain : we do not believe that the summum bonum of their hopes, and the end of all their actions are to acquire a certain portion of money in a given quantum of time — we do not believe that their studies are confined to the multiplication table — far from it : such institutions as the Athenaeum, Public Library, Mechanics' Institution, &c., would lead us to form an opinion of our townsmen totally the reverse. Why, then, have they not bought a greater number of copies of this work? we are at a loss for an answer ourselves ; perhaps some good natured correspondent could favor us with one. We know that very many of our townspeople can frequently afford £1 11s. 6d. for three volumes of novels, and that a still greater number can afford to pay to our worthy friend, Mrs. Bulley, a guinea every year for permission to peruse her stock of romance. The price of " The Transactions" is only 15s., and, besides containing as much matter as, upon the average, is found in a novel of three volumes, it is illustrated by many beautiful engravings. Perhaps some persons, whose means do admit, will not purchase the work because they suppose it to be dry and uninteresting. We can confidently assert that it is only dry inasmuch as it does not contain any of that stimulating stuff so frequently found in works of * "Transactions of the Plymouth Institution." Baldwin and Cradock, London; Rowe, Plymouth. Crown 8vo., pp. 360. VOL. in. 1834. B 10 TRANSACTIONS OF THE romance, the effect of which is to excite the passions and disease the imagination. The work is full of in- terest, variety, and most valuable information : it wants but one thing, viz : — Mr. Wightwick's lecture on Shakespeare. Those who are fond of elegant writing, imbued with thought and learning, and devoted to the exalted cause of improving the mind of man, will find the " feast of reason" in the Rev. R. Lampen's address on the open- ing of the Athenaeum. Mr. Prideaux's paper on the geology of our neigh- bourhood, is full of the keen observation and careful reasoning of that philosopher ; it will please the stu- dent of physics. The naturalist will find much information, which may be probably new to him, in the valuable commu- nications of Drs. Leach and Moore. The antiquarian will find that the Rev. S. Rowe has opened a field for investigation, which we have hitherto neglected because it happens to be close at hand : his account of some researches made concerning the an- cient British remains on Dartmoor, is exceedingly interesting, and has the advantage of being illustrated by the valuable pencil of Colonel Smith. Those who are fond of the imaginative will find something to please and instruct them in a paper on Persian poetry, by that laborious linguist the Rev. N. Howard : and should there be any who are anxious to learn the surprising, the beautiful, the poetical, of scientific investigation, they will find it in Mr. Harris' paper on the " Laws of Electrical Accumulation.1' Let them not be startled at the title, we can assure them that the only difficulty they will meet with will be to accustom themselves to the extreme simplicity of the detail ; it is to be understood as easily as that two and two make four. A very useful paper by Dr. Blackmoore, on tin and progress of particular mortal diseases, and on dis- ease generally in our own immediate neighbourhood, will be found not only interesting to the medical stu- dent, but also to the general reader. PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 11 Colonel Smith has contributed a long account of his collection of drawings, wherein the excursive reader may find a description of the means used by one man to accumulate such an immense mass of valuable materials as this gentleman's drawings are admitted to be. The artist will find many useful hints and much important information, and the young aspirant for the glory of pictorial fame will find ample directions for pursuing the shortest road to his desired object. Thus much, at present, concerning the " Transac- tions," to which we shall refer, more in detail, at a more convenient season. Perhaps we may be accused of praising too much, but, in our own humble opinion, we have not praised half enough, and we feel satisfied that our praise has been bestowed from honest and disinterested motives, with the hope of giving a stimu- lus, however weak, in the cause of a valuable and honorable work. " Fame is the spur that doth the clear spirit raise," &c. TENTATUS. FUNEREAL SKETCHES, No. XI. OUR VILLAGE QUEEN. Our village queen ! Where is her crown ? And mounted knights to attend her ? Her brow is unclouded by care or frown ; But what are the signs of her splendour ? That endearing smile — which shines Around her, like a brilliant gem Choicest in a thousand mines — Such is her natural diadem. But there came a thought of the lovelier dead, When our village maids enthroned her; And an infant herald lisping read The title by which we owned her : And a pearly tear of regret fell down, On the damsel's cheek that bore it, As she looked with pain on our rustic crown, And thought of the last who wore it. Eos. 12 AMRA. And give you, mixed with western sentiraentalismr Some samples of the finest orientalism ! LORD BYRON. AKBAR, the most enlightened and renowned among the sovereign of the East, and the contemporary of our Queen Elizaheth, reigned over all those vast territories, which extend from the Indus to the Ganges, and from the snowy mountains of the north to the kingdoms of Guzerat and Candeish on the south. After having subdued the factious omrahs, and the hereditary enemies of his family, and made tributary to his power most of the neighbouring kingdoms, there occurred a short period of profound peace. Assisted by able min- isters, Akbar employed this interval in alleviating the miseries, which half a century of war and ravage had called down upon this beautiful but ever wretched country. Commerce was relieved from the heavy imposts which had hitherto clogged its progress ; the re- venues of the empire were improvd and regulated ; by a particular decree, the cultivators of the earth were exempted from serving in the imperial armies; and justice was every where impartially ad- ministered ; tempered, however, with that extreme clemency which, in the early part of his reign, Akbar carried to an excess almost injurious to his interests. India, so long exposed to the desolating inroads of invaders, and torn by internal factions, began, at leu to " wear her plumed and jewelled turban with a smile of peace ; v and all the various nations united under his sway — the warlike Afghans, the proud Moguls, the gentle-spirited Hindoos, with one voice blessed the wise and humane government of the son of Baber, and unanimously bestowed upon him the titles of AKBAR, or tin GREAT, and JUGGUT GROW, or GUARDIAN of MANKIND. Meantime the happiness, which he had diffused among millions, seemed to have fled from the bosom of the sovereign. Cares far different from those of war, deeper than those of love (for the love of eastern monarchs is seldom shadowed by anxiety), possessed his thoughtful soul. He had been brought up in the strictest forms of the Mahommedan religion, and he meditated upon the text, which enjoins the extermination of all who rejected his prophet, till his conscience became like a troubled lake. He reflected, that in his vast dominions there Were at least fifteen different religions, which were subdivided into about three hundred and fifty sects : to extir- pate thousands and tens of thousands of his unoffending subjects, and pile up pyramids of human heads in honour of God and his AMRA. 13 prophet, as his predecessors had done before him, was, to his mild nature, not only abhorrent, but impossible. Yet as his power had never met with any obstacle, which force or address had not subdu- ed before him, the idea of bringing this vast multitude to agree in one system of belief and worship appeared to him not utterly hopeless. He consulted, after long reflection, his favourite and secretary, Abul Fazil, the celebrated historian, of whom it was proverbially, said, that "the monarchs of the East feared more the pen of Abul Fazil ;than the sword of Akbar." The acute mind of that great man saw instantly the wild impracticability of such a scheme; but willing to prove it to his master without absolutely contradicting his favourite scheme, he proposed, as a preparatory step, that the names of the various sects of religion known to exist in the sultan's domi- nions should be registered, and the tenets of their belief, contained in their books of law or promulgated by their priests, should be reviewed and compared; thence it would appear how far it was possible to reconcile them one with another. This suggestion pleased the great king ; and there went forth a decree from the imperial throne, commanding that all the religions and sects of religion to be found within the boundaries of the empire should send deputies, on a certain day, to the sultan, to deliver up their books of law, to declare openly the doctrines of their faith, and be registered by name in a volume kept for this purpose — whether they were followers of Jesus, of Moses, or of Mohammed ; whether they worshipped God in the sun, in the fire, in the image, or in the stream ; by written law or traditional practice : true believer or pagan infidel, none were excepted. The imperial mandate was couched in such absolute, as well as alluring terms, that it became as impossible as impolitic to evade it ; it was therefore the interest of every particular sect, to represent in the most favourable light the mode of faith professed by each. Some thought to gain favour by the magnificence of their gifts ; others, by the splendour of their processions. Some rested their hopes on the wisdom and venerable appearance of the deputies they selected to represent them ; and others (they were but few), strong in their faith and spiritual pride, deemed all such aids unnecessary, and trusted in the truth of the doctrines they professed, which they only waited an opportunity to assert, secure that they needed only to be heard, to convert all who had ears to hear. On the appointed day, an immense multitude had assembled from all the quarters of the empire, and pressed through the gates and 14 AMRA. streets of Agra, then the capital and residence of the monarch. The principal durbar, or largest audience court of the palace, was thrown open on this occasion. At the upper end was placed the throne of Akbar. It was a raised platform, from which sprung twelve twisted pillars of massy gold, all radiant with innumerable gems, supporting the golden canopy, over which waved the white umbrella, the in- signia of power. The cushions, upon which the emperor reclined, were of cloth of gold, incrusted with rubies and emeralds. Six pages, of exquisite beauty, bearing fans of peacocks' feathers, were alone permitted to approach within the silver balustrade, which surrounded the seat of power. On one side stood the vizir Chan Azim, bold and erect of look, as became a warrior, and Abul Fazil, with his tablets in his hand, and his eyes modestly cast down : next to him stood Dominico Cuenca, the Portuguese missionary, and two friars of his order, who had come from Goa by the express command of the sultan. On the other side, the muftis and doctors of the law. Around were the great omrahs, the generals, governors, tributary princes, and ambassadors. The ground was spread with Persian carpets of a thousand tints, sprinkled with rose water, and softer beneath the feet than the velvety durva grass ; and clouds of incense, ambergris, and myrrh, filled the air. The gorgeous trapp- ings of eastern splendour, the waving of standards, the glittering of warlike weapons, the sparkling of jewelled robes, formed a scene, almost sublime in its prodigal and lavish magnificence, such as only an oriental court could show. Seven days did the royal Akbar receive and entertain the religi- nus deputies : every day a hundred thousand strangers feasted at his expense ; and every night the gifts he had received during the day, or the value of them, were distributed in alms to the vast mul- titude, without any regard to difference of belief. Seven days did the royal Akbar sit on his musnud, and listen graciously to all who appeared before him. Many were the words spoken, and marvel- lous was the wisdom uttered ; sublime were the doctrines professed, and pure the morality they enjoined : but the more the royal Akbar heard, the more was his great mind perplexed ; the last who spoke seemed ever in the right, till the next who appeared turned all to doubt again. He was amazed, and said within himself, like the judge of old, " W/uit in truth T It was observed, that the many dissenting or heterodox sects of the Mohammedan religion excited infinitely more indignation among the orthodox muftis, than the worst among the pagan idolaters. Their hearts burned within them through impatience and wrath. AMRA. 15 and they would almost have died on the spot for the privilege of confuting those blasphemers, who rejected Abu Becker; who main-, tained, with Abu Zail, that blue was holier than green ; or with Mozar, that a sinner was worse than an infidel ; or believed with the Morgians, that in paradise God is beheld only with the eyes of our understanding ; or with the Kharejites, that a prince who abuses his power may be deposed without sin. But the sultan had for- bidden all argument in his presence, and they were constrained to keep silence, though it was pain and grief to them. The Seiks, from Lahore, then a new sect, and since a powerful na- tion, with their light olive complexions, their rich robes and turbans all of blue, their noble features and free, undaunted, deportment, struck the whole assembly with respect, and were received with pe- culiar favour by the sultan. So also were the Ala-ilahiyahs, whose doctrines are a strange compound of the Christian, the Mohammedan, and the Pagan creeds ; but the Sactas, or Epicureans of India, met with a far different reception. This sect, which in secret professed the most profane and detestable opinions, endeavoured to obtain favour by the splendid offerings they laid at the foot of the throne, and the graceful and seducing eloquence of their principal speaker. It was, however, in vain, that he threw over the tenets of his religion, as publicly acknowledged, the flimsy disguise of rhetoric and poetry ; that he endeavoured to prove, that all happiness consisted in enjoy- ing the world's goods, and all virtue in mere abstaining from evil ; that death is an eternal sleep ; and therefore to reject the pleasures of this life, in any shape, the extreme of folly; while at every pause of his oration, voices of the sweetest melody chorussed the famous burden : — " May the hand never shake which gathered the grapes i May the foot never slip which press'd them ! " Akbar commanded the Sactas from his presence, amid the mur- murs and execrations of all parties ; and though they were protected for the present by the royal passport, they were subsequently ban- ished beyond the frontiers of Cashmere. The fire worshippers, from Guzerat, presented the books of their famous teacher, Zoroaster; to them succeeded the Jainas, the Budd- hists, and many more, innumerable as the leaves upon the banyan tree — countless as the stars at midnight. Last of all came the deputies of the Brahmans. On their ap- proach there was a hushed silence, and then arose a suppressed murmur of amazement, curiosity and admiration. It is well known with what impenetrable secrecy the Brahmans guard the peculiar 16 AMRA. mysteries of their religion. In the reigns of Akbar's predecessors, .and during the first invasions of the Moguls, many had suffered martyrdom in the most horrid forms, rather than suffer their sanc- tuaries to be violated, or disclose the contents of their Vedas or sacred books. Loss of caste, excommunication in this world, and eternal perdition in the next, were the punishments awarded to those, who should break this fundamental law of the Brahminical faith. The mystery was at length to be unveiled; the doubts and conjectures, to which this pertinacious concealment gave rise, were now to be ended for ever. The learned doctors and muftis bent forward with an attentive and eager look — Abul Fazil raised his small, bright, piercing eyes, while a smile of dubious import passed over his countenance — the Portuguese monk threw back his cowl, and the calm and scornful expression of his fine features changed to one of awakened curiosity and interest: even Akbar raised him- self from his jewelled couch as the deputies of the Brahmans ap- proached. A single delegate had been chosen from the twelve principal temples and seats of learning, and they were attended by forty aged men, selected from the three inferior castes, to represent the mass of the Indian population — warriors, merchants, and hus- bandmen. At the head of this majestic procession was the Brahman Sarma, the high priest, and principal Gooroo or teacher of theology at Benares. This singular and venerable man had passed several years of his life in the court of the sultan Buber; and the dignity and austerity, that became his age and high functions, were blended with a certain grace and ease in his deportment, which distinguished him above the rest. When the sage Sarma had pronounced the usual benediction, " May the king be victorious !" Akbar inclined his head with rever- ence. " Wise and virtuous Brahmans!" he said, "our court de- rives honour from your illustrious presence. Next to the true faitli taught by our holy prophet, the doctrines of Brahma must exceed all others in wisdom and purity, even as the priests of Brahma excel in virtue and knowledge the wisest of the earth : disclose, therefore, your sacred Sastras, that we may inhale from them, as from the roses of paradise, the precious fragrance of truth and of knowledge !" The Brahman replied, in the soft and musical tones of his people, " O king of the world ! we are not come before the throne of power to betray the faith of our fathers, but to die for it, if such be the will of the sultan I1' Saying these words, he and his companions prostrated themselves upon the earth, and, taking off their turbans, flung them down before them ; then, while the rest continued with ARMA. 17 their foreheads bowed to the ground, Sarma arose, and stood up- right before the throne. No words can describe the amazement of Akbar: he shrunk back and sfruck his hands together; then he frowned, and twisted his small and beautifully curled mustachios, — "The sons of Brahma mock us !" said he at length; "is it thus our imperial decrees are obeyed ?" "The laws of our faith are immutable," replied the old man calmly, " and the contents of the Vedas were preordained from the beginning of time to be revealed to the TWICE-BORN alone. It is sufficient, that therein are to be found the essence of all wisdom, the principles of all virtue, and the means of acquiring immortality." " Doubtless, the sons of Brahma are preeminently wise,'' said Akbar, sarcastically; "but are the followers of the Prophet ac- counted as fools in their eyes ? The sons of Brahma are excellently virtuous, but are all the rest of mankind vicious ? Has the most high God confined the knowledge of his attributes to the Brahmans alone, and hidden his face from the rest of his creatures ? Where, then, is his justice ? where his all-embracing mercy V The Brahman, folding his arms, replied : " It is written, Heaven is a place with many doors, and every man shall enter by his own way. It is not given to mortals to examine or arraign the decrees of the Deity, but to hear and to obey. Let the will of the sultan be accomplished in all things else. In this let the God of all the earth judge between the king and his servants." "Now, by the head of our Prophet! shall we be braved on our throne by these insolent and contumacious priests ? Tortures shall force the seal from those lips ! " " Not so I" said the old Brahman, drawing himself up with a look of inexpressible dignity. " It is in the power of the Great King to deal with his slaves as seemeth good to him ; but fortitude is the courage of the weak ; and the twice-born sons of Brahma can suffer more in the cause of truth, than even the wrath of Akbar can inflict." At these words, which expressed at once submission and defiance, a general murmur arose in the assembly. The dense crowd became agitated as the waves of the Ganges just before the rising of the hurricane. Some opened their eyes wide with amazement at such audacity, some frowned with indignation, some looked on with con- tempt, others with pity. All awaited in fearful expectation, till tlit* fury of the sultan should burst forth and consume these presumptu- ous offenders. But Akbar remained silent, and for some time played with the hilt of his poniard, half unsheathing it, and then forcing it back with an angry gesture. At length he motioned to VOL. in. 1834. c 18 RUTLJ, his secretary to approach ; and Abul Fazil, kneeling upon the silver steps of the throne, received the sultan's commands. After a con- ference of some length, inaudible to the attendants around, Abul Fazil came forward and announced the will of the sultan, that the durbar should be presently broken up. The deputies were severally dismissed with rich presents ; all, except the Brahmans, who were commanded to remain in the quarter assigned to them during the royal pleasure, and a strong guard was placed over them. Mean time Akbar withdrew to the private apartments of his palace, where he remained for three days inaccessible to all, except his secretary Abul Fazil, and the Christian monk. On the fourth day he sent for the high priest of Benares, and successively for the rest of the Brahmans, his companions ; but it was in vain he tried threats and temptations, and all his arts of argument and persua- sion. They remained calmly and passively immovable. The sultan at length pardoned and dismissed them with many expressions of courtesy and admiration. The Brahman Sarma was distinguished among the rest by gifts of peculiar value and magnificence, and to him Akbar made a voluntary promise, that, during his reign, the cruel tax, called the Kerea, which had hitherto been levied upon the poor Indians whenever they met to celebrate any of their religious festivals, should be abolished. T« In- Continued m <>//>• //IT/. It I T I. I . • Slaves ! and in uur father-land Shall we, in ignoble pain, ( 'rouch beneath a tyrant's hand ! Wear a soul-debasing chain ? Nature's meanest things are free ! The wild eagle, in our sight, O'er the blue hills bends his flight In triumphant liberty. * An account of the meetings of the Swiss in the glen of Uutli, to devise measures for throwing off the yoke of the House of Haps- burgh, is given in " Planta's Account of the Helvetic Confederacy," vol. I., chap. 6. RUTLI. 19 On the giant mountain's side See the chamois roam at will : See the river roll its tide Onward — onward, chainless still. Do the winds — that round our way Throng rejoicing from their home On St. Gothard's snowy dome — Feel restraint or despot sway ? Shall we, recreant, shrink to claim The noble boon that nature gave ? Shall stern Helvetia's ancient fame Still blacken 'neath the brand of " slave ? " No ! may our heart springs cease to ply, Our right hands hang beside us perished If, for the clime our fathers cherished, One man among us fears to die. Our country's sword — which erst withstood The Roman, in unequal fight, And found the way to Gallia's blood, Though mafched against superior might : Our country's sword ! a mutual vow Devotes thee to the sacred cause Of wresting right from tyrant laws Thou wilt not— canst not fail us now. Be witness, all ye orbs sublime That lend our lonely meeting light : Hills of Helvetia, strong through time Keep record of our oath, to night. We swear — by every sacred tie — By the Immortal's throne in Heaven, Before whose shrine our vows are given, — To burst our slavish bonds, or die* FRANZ. 20 SOME ACCOUNT OF THE APPOINTMENT OF A RECORDER IN THE BOROUGH OF PLYMOUTH, AND OF SEVERAL PERSONS WHO HAVE FILLED THAT OFFICE. 25th July, 1440. BY a charter, from King Henry the sixth, the office of Recorder is granted to the town, but no one is named to fill that office, as is done in the case of the Mayor : nor is it prescribed by whom this officer is to be elected ; it is however to be inferred, that the Mayor and Commonalty are to elect, for they are the only body mentioned in the charter, and when a differ- ent practise prevailed, by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Common councilmen, still the act was registered as that of the Mayor and Commonalty. No record remains of any one being elected to this office during the reign of Henry VI., but no doubt there must have been an election ; whether the election was annual, or for life, we have no means at present of ascertaining. Neither in the early part of the reign of his successor, Edward IV., do we find any mention of the persons elected to this office ; but in the 22nd year we meet with the first person, named John Denys, who this gentleman was is unknown, whether he was a member of the ancient family of Denys, in this county, cannot now probably be ascertained; but he does not seem to have been a member of the corpora- tion, as his name does not occur in the list of Mayors, nor in that of the Representatives of the borough. This was not the case with the next person, whom we find mentioned as the Recorder, about sixteen years afterwards, viz., 1498, when Thomas Tresawell is named ; this gentleman had been three times Mayor of the town, and was again elected the Mayor in 1507, so that if he continued to be the Recorder, there could have been, during his mayoralty, only one magistrate in the borough. A long time now elapsed before we find any notice of another Recorder ; not until the year 1539, an hun- dred years after the first appointment of the office, and RECORDERS OF PLYMOUTH. 21 as we have only two names in that long period, it is evident there must have been many others of which no record remains. The gentleman now named is Andrew Hillersdon, but, as his death is mentioned in this year, we are not informed how long he had held the office prior to his death. Neither do we know who Mr. Hillersdon was, though we may conjecture that he was a member of the family of that name then resident at Membland, in this neighbourhood, whose property afterwards came by marriage to the Bulteels. Andrew was a name used in that family, for we find an Andrew Hillersdon, of Membland, was the Sheriff of the county, in the reign of Henry VI. Mr. Hillersdon was succeeded in this office by Mr. Courtenay, but to which branch of that ancient family he belonged is not known, nor how long he held the office. In 1564, it appears, in a MS. preserved in the British Museum, being a record of a visitation of the Heralds in that year, that Thomas Williams, Esq. was then the Recorder of Plymouth : of this gentleman, his name being a common one, we have no trace, nor do we know how long he continued in office. In 1609 we find John Hele, of Plymouth, Esq., elected to it, probably the second son of Sir John Hele, of Wem- bury, Kt., a Serjeant at law, one of the numerous branches of that family in this county ; Mr. Hele held the office a very short time, for on the 15th of August, 1611, we find Sir William Strode, of Meavie, Kt., ap- pointed by the Mayor and Commonalty, with an annual fee of 53s. 4d. to be paid at Michaelmas, this appointment was during pleasure. This good knight, of the ancient and respectable family of Strode, held the office until the llth of September, 1620, when he resigned it ; and John Glanville, Esq., a Barrister at law, was elected to it ; this gentleman was of the anci- ent family of that name, then resident at Tavistock, being a son of Judge Glanville ; and afterwards became illustrious himself, and was well known in the annals of his country as Serjeant Glanville; he represented the town in Parliament for many years, and became 22 RECORDERS OF PLYMOUTH. the Speaker o/ the House of Commons. He was a man of eminent attainments, not only in the profes- sion of which he was a distinguished member, but as a politician, as may be seen by reference to " Prince's Worthies of Devon," where a full account of him is given. It appears from the following curious letter, still extant, that he resigned the office in 1 640 :— " Mr. Mayor, — I received letters from you and your bretheren, dated the 24th of the last month, full of respect and courtesy towards me, especially in declar- ing your resolution, at my request and upon my resign- ation, to accept my good friend, Mr. John Maynard, to be your Recorder in my stead : you will please therefore to take notice by this, my letter, that I have resigned, and do most fully and willingly resign, my place of Recordership of your town, so as you may presently proceed to a new election of Mr. Maynard, in whose service I wish you all happiness and content- ment ; and do assure you, that though my remote habitation and other engagements render me unfit to serve you longer as your Recorder, yet I shall never abolish the memory of your great affections and severell grateful 1 presentations which I keep by me as testimo- nies of your loves, and intend to transmit them to my posterity with command that they take all opportuni- ties, as I will, to acknowledge and satisfy that obliiru- tion, by which I hold myself and them bound to do you all possible service. So, with my love to yourself and bretheren, desiring to be still accounted, as in af- fection I am and ever will be, one of your town and Corporation. I remain, Yours, to be commanded, Jo: GLANVILL. Exon, 5th Aug. 1640. To the Right Worshipful and my very loving friends, Mr. Robert Gubbes, Mayor of Plymouth, and his breth- eren present, these — " The Mr. Maynard alluded to in this letter was a barrister ; he is better known in the annals of his coun- try as Serjeant Maynard. He held the Recordership RECORDERS OF PLYMOUTH. 23 in the reigns of Charles I., during the Commonwealth, and the reign of Charles II., and was honourably dis- tinguished in 1684, when the infamous proceeding took place of the charters being surrendered to the King, and a new one obtained with more limited power, reduced numbers, and the names of men in- serted who were more pliant and congenial to the arbitrary disposition of the court. In this charter Serjeant Maynard's name was omitted as the Recorder, and his connection with the town ceased for a time ; but upon the revolution taking place, notwithstanding his great age, he was returned as one of our represent- atives in the House of Commons, and so continued until 1690, when he died at the age of eighty-seven. An anecdote is related of him, which illustrates his opinion of the measures of Charles II. and James II. : — When Sergeant Maynard was introduced to William III., at Court, his majesty, seeing so venerable a law- yer, and knowing his high character, remarked that he must have outlived all his cotemporary lawyers : " Yes, your majesty, and, but for your happy arrival, I had outlived the law itself." In the new charter John, Earl of Bath, the Govern- or of the Citadel of Plymouth, where his lordship generally resided, was appointed also the Recorder of Plymouth, and continued to hold the office until the restoration of the old charters, by a new one from William, was obtained, in which charter Sir Francis Drake, Bart, was appointed the Recorder, he having been very instrumental in procuring the restoration of the old charters, and being a supporter of the princi- ples which seated William and Mary on the throne. Sir Francis ^was the third baronet of that family, then resident at Buckland Abbey ; he held the office until his death in 1717. At this period the Rogers family possessed great influence in the Corporation, and being resident in the town, and Sir John Rogers, the second baronet in that family, being one of its Representatives in Parliament, was elected the Recorder on the 20th. January, 1717, and held it until his death in January, 24 RECORDERS OF PLYMOUTH. 1743, 4. He was succeeded in the office by his eldest son, Sir John Rogers, the third Baronet, who was also an Alderman, and held it until his death in 1773 ; whereupon Sir Frederick Rogers, Baronet, the then Commissioner of H. M. Dock Yard, at Plymouth, was elected, and held it until his death in 1777, when his eldest son, the fifth baronet, Sir Frederick Leman Rogers, was elected, and held it until his death in 1797, being at the same time an Alderman, and one of the town's representatives in Parliament. With this gentleman the family connection was broken, (his eldest son being a minor,) after four members of it had held the office in succession for eighty years. On this occasion a controversy ensued amongst the electors, but William Elford, Esq., F. R. S., of Bickham, near this town, proved the successful candidate, and held the office until 1833, when he resigned it. Having been created a Baronet he is better known as Sir William Elford. Most of these elections, since a very early period, had taken place in the name of the Mayor and Com- monalty, by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Common- council, and were quietly acquiesced in by the body at large. There could be no doubt however that the charter of 18th Henry VI. had conferred the election on the Commonalty, and however delegated by any bye law, was capable of resumption by that body. The Aldermen and Common council of the present day, actuated by the best motives, voluntarily renoun- ced any desire to interfere, and in February last the Mayor and Commonalty resumed their former right, and elected, without controversy, one of the Bench of Aldermen, Henry Woollcombe, Esq., F. S. A., &c.,to be their Recorder. This gentleman had served the office of Mayor in 1813, and being a native, and resi- dent in the town, and well known to the Commonalty, was called on by a large body of the electors, without solicitation on his part, to offer himself for the offiice, and he was most handsomely elected into it. 25 AFFECTATION. THE patience of a man of straight-forward common sense is seldom so severely taxed as during the time of his witnessing a display of affectation. When he has to endure it for a few moments only, he can per- haps manage to treat it with the contempt it deserves. But to compel him to converse for an hour or two with a person who is spouting forth affectation in every sentence, is to inflict upon him almost as severe a punishment as would be the making him walk for the same length of time, with peas in his shoes. Yet what is more common than affectation ! You may see it sometimes in the street ; often in the shop ; but still more frequently in the drawing room. The boarding-school Miss would have all " the young la- dies" believe that her papa is "a man of property," and her mamma " a lady of family." Accordingly in her conversation and her actions she apes the manners and doings of ladies whose parents are "independent." Her tales of home are abundantly bedizened with accounts of gay parties and rich dresses, splendid fur- niture and sumptuous entertainments. The boarding- school fare is miserably mean to what she has been accustomed to at home, and is fit only for the " common people." She is surprised that the governess should think of teaching her any thing but the " accom- plishments" Her mamma does not wish her to learn any thing of "plain work," she always puts that out &c. &c. Notwithstanding all the efforts that are made to teach her to speak plain good English, yet her words are mangled, minced, and chopped into vocables, the derivation or even the meaning of which, many a philologist would be puzzled to find out. But 'this is thought to be "fashionable", and the voice of fashion is much sooner listened to than either that of the governess or of common sense, if we may ven- ture to suppose for a moment that the latter is not always included under the former. But in such a young, giddy creature, whose mind, if she has one, has never yet been much in request, VOL. in. 1834. D j l 26 AFFECTATION. such affectation may be to a certain extent excusable. Not so in the woman. We naturally expect her to rise above the follies and weaknesses of the mere girl. When affectation is perceived in ladies who have lived to the age of fifty in single blessedness, it may in some degree be accounted for. In them, however, it is by no means a recommendation, and they may be assured that the sooner they endeavour to get over such a weakness, the better - the better for the comfort of others, and perhaps their own. In a wife or a mother, affectation is insufferable. Yet how often does she assume the tone and manners of a person in much higher rank of life ! And then what an effort there is to keep up the appearance! She labours hard to find out long and high sounding words which, when strung together without sense or judgment, she fancies to be refined language. But at ength out pops some low-life phrase which spoils the whole. Her weakness, if not discovered before, is now sufficiently apparent; and she is ready to bite her lips with rage, when she perceives a restrained smile, at her expense, on the countenances of those around her. But supposing this not the case. She proceeds in her attempt to make those who do not know her (and to such she for the most part confines her conversation) believe that she possesses more knowledge or wealth than has yet fallen to her lot. If she happens to have a smattering of any particular science, it is sure to be put forth. She proceeds as far as her very imperfect knowledge will carry her, without leaving room for others to have much to say, and then is quite disposed to turn to another topic. But this, perhaps, is not immediately permitted. Some unexpected query is unfortunately put to the learned lady. Alas ! she is compelled to confess her ignorance of a subject, her fancied knowledge of which she was so eager to display. Should the conversation turn on matters of less importance, her affectation will be sure to destroy any pleasure that might result from it. Perhaps with the QUERIES 27 greatest economy she is but just able to live respecta- bly, yet, while listening to her, you might suppose that pecuniary considerations never in the least degree interfered with her wishes or intentions. Mr. had thought of taking one of the large houses in — — Street, but for her part she could never endure to live in a very large house. She has lately been buying some furniture at So and So's. She always likes to buy at " the first shops," for then you are sure of being well served. Mr. never allows her to go to a sale to buy any thing of the sort. He says it can only make a difference of a few pounds. - She had quite intended to spend two or three months at a watering place, with her children, last summer, but Mr. - - does so dislike being near the sea. — - There is many a woman who would talk to you in this strain, till your head grew giddy, if you would but listen to her ; and if, at such a time, you shew the least impatience, under the infliction, you will be sure to displease perhaps you will be set down as one of " the common people" because you have too much common sense not to see that one half of what she says is mere "fudge." Affectation is bad enough in a girl ; still worse in a woman ; but in a man it is absolutely unpardonable and intolerable. The man who loses sight of -the na- tural in striving to support the artificial, shews that he is not able either to understand or to appreciate the proper dignity of his sex, and should be made to feel the lash of satire until the "evil spirit" of affectation be fairly "put to rest." A LOOKER ON. QUERIES. TO THE EDITOR OF THE " SOUTH DEVON MUSEUM." Sir, — Can any of your scientific readers inform me of the best method of rendering glass opaque for a window blind. I have tried fluor spar and sulphuric acid, as recommended in Parkes' Chemical Catechism, without effect. I wish, through the same means, to ob- tain some information relative to the proper mode for constructing an oxy-hydrogen microscope ; perhaps some of your correspondents could give me a hint or two on the subject. B. Exeter. 28 *ASLAN AND VASILIKI. He sleeps — yet o'er that pale, majestic brow What sadness droops ; his noble countenance Is -wrought on by the spirit of a dream, Awhile 'tis clothed in darkness like a sky Ere tempests rend it — and anon it thrills With quick and dreadful change as through a fiend Distorted every feature. Ah ! he starts — And with instinctive and convulsive grasp Unsheaths a poinard from his jewelled vest, As though some deadly conflict sought its aid ; Then, like the victim of delirium — spent With fever's fiery effort, — he sinks down In melancholy stupor. Yet he lies Beneath a gorgeous canopy : around Are scattered shining riches of the South, Wine of Tokay and viands that might tempt The sickliest appetite : his silken robes Are matched not in Genoa's curious loom Nor Persia's finest craft, and yet they fail To find him happiness. His hoary head Is rested on a loved and lovely breast That throbs with anxious care — a gentle hand With softest touch arranges every fold Of his disordered robe — a form, whose gaze Denotes affection that can live through change, Is bending o'er him : Vasiliki weeps ! Weeps o'er the fortunes of her Moslem lord And with devotion's pious tone invokes The Virgin's aid — the saving hand of Heaven — Fair Slave ! the victim of a tyrant's lust, Though Asian's isle is leagured, though the sound Of booming guns comes howling on the wind, Though foes are round him mixed with traitor-friends, Ali Pacha, of Janina, was surnamed Asian or the Lion. ASLAN AND VASILIKI. 29 Though Stamboul's chieftain claims the sleeper's head, Though pale Destruction o'er him waves her wing, Yet thou canst love him — thou, a * Christian girl In youth's bewitching light of southern bloom, Hast flung thy fondness like a soothing power Around the man of self-created woes. Thy pure affection sure might find a charm To lull him from his wild and restless dream. Oh ! no — his slumber teems with vengeful forms Reminding him of crimes that one would deem Were never planned beneath that noble brow. He starts again ! — Phrosina's dying tone, The curse of injured Vely, Sephir's draught Of poison — and the shrieks of those who died, To sate his appetite for gold and blood, At Suli and Preveza, all combine In torture to his senses. What can quench The flames of burning conscience ? what assuage The spirit that hath made itself a hell ? * Heine Vasiliki was a model of virtue and piety. Her elevation was one of those prodigies so often occurring in absolute governments. In 1800 Ali had prosecuted her father for coining; and the whole family being seized, Ali accidentally saw Heine, then quite young. He ordered her to be brought up in his harem. The graces of her form, which was of surprising beauty, having attained perfection, Ali married her, without requiring her to abjure the rites of baptism which she had received at her birth. " If I abjured the Holy Virgin, the protector of my infancy, how could you con- fide in the attachment of a woman who sacrificed the riches of immortality for the perishing honours of this life ? " This generous sentiment increased Ali's affection for his young wife, and he not only permitted, but insisted, that an oratory should be erected in his palace, where she might worship according to her own creed. When Ali received his mortal wound, his dying request was that Vasiliki might be poinarded to save her from the ignominy of insult at the hands of his enemies. 30 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. PROCEEDINGS IN THE ATHENJEUM. NOVEMBER 28TH.- — Mr. ADAMS, On the Rise and Progress of Gas Illumination. AFTER some prelimiDary observations, the Lecturer stated that the first record of the substance now called inflammable air or gas arose from an accidental circumstance, recorded in the Trans. Roy. Soc., 1667, of which the following is the substance. Mr. T. Shirley, on returning from a journey to his house in Wigan, was informed that a spring of water in the neighbourhood of the town burned like oil ; he visited the place himself and applied a light, upon which a sud- den flame appeared which burned vigorously. Mr Shirley stated, as his opinion, that the burning proceeded from the eruption of some bituminous or sulphurous fumes from under ground, the place being about 30 or 40 yards from the mouth of a coal pit. The lecturer stated that there could be no doubt but that this vigorous flame proceeded from carburetted hydrogen gas, and that from this acci- dental circumstance gas lighting dates its origin. In 1726 Dr. Stephen Hales experimented on the elasticity of this gas, but its inflammable properties were not even hinted at, however an account is recorded in the Phil. Trans., for 1733, of much greater importance to science than either of the preceeding, and which also originated in an accidental circumstance. Sir J. Lowther, Bart., in sinking a shaft to drain one of his collieries at Whitehaven, had proceeded to a certain depth when, contrary to expectation, but little water was found and, through this water, damp corrupted air bub- bled up, which burned fiercely when the workmen applied a candle to it; they were however alarmed and, having beat out the flame with their hats, retreated from the shaft : when the place was visited by the steward, a short time afterwards, the gas had enlarged the aperture, through which it issued, and on being ignited produced a flame, three feet in diameter and nine feet high, which would have destroyed the steward and miners had they not, at hand, a plentiful supply of water wherewith to extinguish it. This gas continued to dis- charge itself through a wooden trunk, fixed in the shaft, for two years and nine months afterwards ; bladders were filled with it and sent to the Royal Society, before which body its inflammability was displayed, yet, strange to say, the philosophers of that day did not seem to have any idea of its applicability to the purposes of illumination. In the Phil. Trans, for the year 1739 aro detailed some experiments, made by Dr. Jn. Clayton, Dean of KikUire, on the distillation of Pit PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 31 coal, he called the produced gas " spirit of coal," and does not seem to have had any higher idea of its inflammable quality than that it could amuse himself and his friends. In 1767 Dr. Watson, Bishop of Landaff, published a work on chemistry, in which he has shown the inflammable and elastic quality of this gas, and that the former is not destroyed by passing the gas through water : he carried the subject no farther, and during the next period of thirty years history is silent on the subject. The lecturer gave it as his opinion, that Sir Humphrey Davy, in his laborious, patient, and sometimes dangerous investigations of the fire damp, tended materially to assist contemporary philosophers whose researches were more exclusively devoted to the science of gas illumination. Although the honor of having applied gas to the purposes of illu- mination has been accorded by many to a German gentleman, named Frederick Albert Wintzer, or, as his name was subsequently spelled, Winsor, we shall find by reference to the page of history, that Mr. W. Murdoch, a Scotch gentleman, in the employment of Messrs. Boulton and Watt, who resided at Redruth, Cornwall, in 1792, lighted his house and offices with gas at that time : he was removed by his employers to Ayreshire, in Scotland, in 1797, where he again lighted his residence with gas ; and in 1798, the workmen of Messrs. Boulton and Watts' manufactory, at Soho, near Birmingham, were allowed the benefit of his invention. When peace was proclaimed, in 1802, Mr. Murdoch illuminated this extensive series of buildings with gas lights, on which occasion the novel display was witnessed by unnumbered thousands from Birmingham and the surrounding- districts. These facts immediately nullify Mr. Winsor's claim of priority in so important a matter; since, by his own shewing, and the admission of his friends, his first public display was made on the walls of Carlton Palace, on the king's birth day, in 1803. Thus far the rise of gas illumination, the remainder of the lecture related to its progress. A gas-light company was formed in London in 1809, with Mr. Winsor at its head ; others were subsequently set on foot ; and in 1810 parliament granted its protection to the design, yet in 1814 there were but a few lights in use, and those were in the locality of Westminster : the company however was not idle, costly experiments had been made, ground purchased, apparatus procured, and 50 miles of main pipe had been laid down : thus was marked out the ground work of one of the most magnificent and extensive trading concerns in the world. The lecturer traced out, with great clearness and 32 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. ability, the rise and progress of different other companies, down to the year 1823 ; dwelling upon the difficulties they had to encounter, in combatting prejudice and ignorance : a large synoptical table was submitted to the institution, displaying the state of each company in 1823 ; the total results of which are : — there were then four com- panies, viz, The Chartered company, the City of London company, the South London company, and the Imperial company ; the com- panies had six stations, employed 721 retorts, carbonized in the year 40,158 chaldrons of coal, had 59 gazometers, 16,307 public lights, 40,834 private lights, and 265 miles of main ; their expended capital was £1,458,500, and their annual rental £179,540. 12s. 9d. Before the lecturer proceeded to the concluding part of his excel- lent paper — which we regret the limits of our little work preclude us from reporting more in detail — he observed, perhaps the annals of this science do not record a more splendid instance of gas illumi- nation than that which occurred on Jan. 28th, 1825, at a fete given by the Lord Mayor of London, at the Mansion house, to H. R. J 1 . the Duke of York, at which many noble and distinguished persons were present : on this occasion there were in use, within and without the building, 3,001 separate lights, which were kept steadily burn- ing from dusk on the evening of the 28th, until daylight on the following morning. In 1833, — there are nine different companies, who have 2,660 retorts, carbonize per year 77,313 chaldrons of coal, have about 120 gazometers, 25,600 public lights, 56,480 private lights, about 600 miles of main, and expend in capital £2,082,700. To supply these London companies with coal, it would require 38 ships, each of 200 tons burden, to be constantly employed ; if the gazometers were collected together on one spot, with intervals of 6 feet between each, they would cover a surface of 6 acres, and the aggregate rental may be considered as about £350,000. Besides these nine companies there are two others, one of which has chosen for its sphere of action the territories beyond the British islands, whilst the other has turned its attention to the provinces of the United Kingdom ; of this latter company the lecturer is an engineer. The concluding part of the lecture consisted of the following des- cription of a new mode of generating heat, invented by Mr. J. O. Rutter, of Lymington. It was during the winter of 1832,3, whilst occupied in the man- agement of the gas works at Lymington, in Hampshire, recently erected there by Messrs. John Barlow and Co., that Mr. Rutter, the patentee of the invention, had an opportunity of making daily PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 33 observations on the process of generating heat. As is the practice in most of the coal gas works in the kingdom, the tar made on the station, for which a ready sale could not be found, was consumed, in conjunction with coal or coke, as fuel. Experience taught him that, whilst on the one hand it was a measure of economy thus to get rid of an article, the accumulation of which might prove both offensive and dangerous, yet, on the other, its employment as fuel, by the means hitherto adopted, was a most wasteful process ; since two thirds, and in many cases three fourths, of the tar sent into the furnace was evidently not consumed. Reasoning on the results of various experiments, and assured by them that the imperfect com- bustion of so inflammable a body as coal tar was entirely due to an excess of carbon, it occured to him that since water by decomposi- tion yields hydrogen and oxygen, that fluid if .decomposed in contact with the tar would render its combustion complete. The first experiment was successful, — by delivering into a furnace, in which was a clear fire, made with coal or coke, coal tar, in a very fine stream, accompanied by an equal quantity of water, it was found that the whole of the tar might be decomposed. At Lyming- ton the patentee has made, during successive weeks, with one twenty two inch, York, D, retort, 3,800 cubic feet of gas from eight bushels of Newcastle coal, (eighty pounds per bushel) in twenty hours, which is at the rate of 13,300 feet per ton, and 17,100 feet per chaldron. A greater quantity of gas obtained from a given quantity of coal as compared with the usual products in gas estab- lishments, is not the only advantage consequent on these workings. The gas made under these circumstances is of superior density. In many instances its specific gravity has averaged .550. At Salisbury nearly similar results have been obtained : — with three twelve-inch, D, retorts, 7,800 feet of gas have been made from eighteen bushels of Newcastle coal in twenty-four hours, averaging 12,124 feet per ton, and 15,600 feet per chaldron. The heat generated by the com- bustion of tar and water, although much more intense than that arising from ordinary fuel, may nevertheless be regulated at pleasure. It is moreover uniform in its effects, a point which can only be ap- preciated by the practical gas-maker. Let it not be inferred that the exalted temperature exhibited in this process depends simply on the entire combustion of the tar. Water, by its decomposition, affording materials whose heating properties are inconceivably more energetic than the ordinary kinds of fuel, and its elements combining readily with carbon, it is easy to comprehend how these materials mutually aid each other. The quantity or intensity of heat generated by a VOL. in. — 1834. E 34 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. comparatively small quantity of fuel is due, therefore, to the presence of water : oxygen constitutes only one fifth of the air admitted to a furnace, the remaining four fifths taking no part in the ignition of the fuel. In the process here described, oxygen, instead of being admitted in any great quantity from without, is generated within the furnace ; and instead of its being accompanied by azote, which re- tards combustion and extinguishes flame, it is accompanied by hydrogen, one of the most inflammable of the gases. There is per- haps no purpose for which heat is required in an enclosed furnace to which the process is not applicable. Steam engines, whether stationary or locomotive, breweries, distilleries, glass-houses, the cabouse of the merchant ship, and the galley of the man of war are favourable situations for its employment. DECEMBER 5Tii. — Mr. P. SWAIN, On Insanity. In the introduction the lecturer pointed out the antiquity of in- sanity, proving that it was coeval with the human passions. He spoke of allusion being made to it in the book of Job, which is the most ancient record we possess, and adverted to several examples of insanity recorded in fabulous tradition. He next proceeded to recount the opinions entertained of old, relative to the nature of insanity, which, he endeavoured to show, were regulated by the notions held by the ancients respecting the nature of the mind. He made mention of some of the methods of treatment used by the priesthood, upon whom the care of the insane chiefly devolved. Idiotcy was next described, which the lecturer believes to consist in a deficiency of the mind, dependent on defect of the brain ; and he exemplified this part of his subject by a description of the Cretins, a race of idiots in the Valais of Switzerland. He stated that, notwithstanding their mental and corporeal deficiencies, they are the objects of the kindest solicitude, being regarded by the Swiss peasantry with religious veneration ; and remarked the extraordinary difference in the effects of superstition on a community. In Swit- zerland the idiot is cherished and revered ; in some countries the imbecile or deformed offspring is consigned to starvation by its flinty parent, or sacrificed on the altar as the peculiar property of some loathsome demon. The lecturer then proceeded to define insanity, and to divide it into mania, melancholia, and hypochondriasis. In speaking of the extraordinary fancies by which the hypochon- driac is sometimes beset, he related a curious anecdote of the late PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 35 Mr Abernethy. A lady came to him one day to ask his advice as to the readiest mode of expelling from her interior a spider, which she imagined she had swallowed. He did not attempt to reason with her, but, during her dolorous narrative, amused himself in cap- turing a fly, which upon desiring her to show her tongue, he projected into her mouth, telling her to wait till the spider should come uj> in pursuit of its prey, when she might spit out both together. The lecturer alluded to the propensity to suicide sometimes ma- nifested by the insane, which he believes to be innate or hereditary. He remarked that, in all cases of insanity, great care should be taken by those who have the charge of lunatics, not to suggest to their minds, either by act or expression, any idea of self destruction, lest they should be reminded of the possibility of thus terminating their lives. To show what ought to be the treatment in such cases the lecturer spoke of the presence of mind once displayed by Dr. Willis, Physician in attendance on George the third. The king one day desired to shave himself, and Willis feared that if he hesitated to give his consent, the king would see that he was suspected of an intention to commit suicide; and thus the idea of such an act would be engendered where it might not exist : he promptly sent for razors, but before they could be brought he enga- ged his majesty's attention with some papers which were on the table. The king continued so occupied with them that his physician felt assured he entertained no design of the kind. After having shaved himself he resumed his papers : the razors were not sent away immediately lest the thought should come across the king's mind that he could not be trusted. The lecturer remarked that such admirable presence of mind, in so responsible a situation, highly qualified Willis for the trust imposed upon him. The lecturer now made some remarks on the hallucinations of the insane, which, he said, consisted in some morbid excitement of one or more of the senses, the effect of such excitement not being cor- rected by the application of the judgment. Mr. Swain considers that Shakespeare possessed a very clear idea of the nature of insanity, and thinks his insane characters some of the most vivid which he has drawn. He mentioned some facts re- lative to the Toms O'Bedlam, which were to be found in the days of Shakespeare, and from which the poet has copied the character of Poor Tom, in King Lear. Mr. S. read the last stanza of a ballad supposed to have been uttered by a Tom O'Bedlam. 36 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. " With a heart of furious fancies, Of which I am commander, With a burning spear And a horse of air To the wilderness I wander. With a knight of ghosts and shadows I summoned am to tournay, Ten leagues beyond The wide world's end Methinks it is no journey." The lecturer then mentioned the madness of King Lear, which he spoke of as being highly natural, and alluded to the skill of the poet in allowing the cause to be occasionally seen through the maniac's ravings. He next proceeded to criticise Hamlet, whom he supposes to have been a melancholic. He remarked the tendency to self des- truction, which the soliloquies of Hamlet show to have existed in his mind, and thinks that the poet erred in grafting upon Ham- let's real and constitutional melancholy, a simulation of insanity. Having made slight mention of Ophelia's distraction, Mr. S. pro- ceeded to say that, we need not confine ourselves to the fictions of the poet's frenzy, nor look long on real life for example. " The unmatched form and feature of blown youth Blasted with extacy." He remarked that, high intellectual powers did not exempt their possessors from the attacks of this fearful malady, but that the en- thusiasm, and too intense operations of genius, combined with its excitability, and the misfortunes to which it is subject, too often lead to the production of insanity. In support of this opinion he ad- duced the names of Swift, Cowley, Collins, Cowper, Byron and others, who were more or less afflicted with insanity. The lecturer is inclined to refer the irrunediate cause of every in- stance of insanity to the brain, which may be functionally or organ- ically diseased. He thinks that we shall never be enabled to discover the exact nature of the change which takes place in the brain during insanity, till we have arrived at some definite notion as to the manner in which that organ acts when in health. The lecturer concluded his paper in the following words : — At present, as we can estimate the value of our capacities only through the medium of their fragile and distempered instruments, so must we expect to find them indistinctly and irregularly mani- fested. The greatest of human attainments has but led us to the portal of knowledge, and through it we have caught a glimpse of the vast domain which lies within. If we attempt further progress PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 37 we find at every step that the intensity of the light which breaks upon us dazzles our feeble sense, and certifies us that, " We ourselves are blind." It is, however, a consolation to believe (and I would say with Cicero, " Si in hoc erro, quod animos hominum immortales esse credam, lubenter erro.v) it is, I say, a consolation to think, while contemplating the infirmities of mind, that their present imperfect existence and limited sphere of action, is not the ultimate state of being for which our faculties are intended. When the mysterious sublimation, to which our bodies will be subjected in the crucible of the grave, is effected, it is probable that they will be rendered fit instruments for intellectual perfection. Intensity of thought, how- ever vivid, perseverance in research, however unremitting, will then produce no derangement; but, with the mortality and grossness of its material connection, the mind will lose all liability to disease, to error, and to decay. DECEMBER 12ra. — Mr. H. WOOLLCOMBE, On Ancient and Modern Travelling in Devonshire. The lecturer commenced his paper by observing that the state and number of the roads in any country, together with the locomotive vehicles used thereon, afforded criteria of the state and condition of society; and having illustrated this position by examples he gave his opinion that the great changes made or making in our roads and conveyances will totally change our means and mode of intercourse : in contrasting our slow going ancestors with their rapidly moving descendants he considered the former deserving of considerable cen- sure for their reluctance to exchange for new customs those which were established merely because they were established. The lecturer next gave a summary account of the state of the law regarding roads, and made some statements, relative to the roads of Devonshire in the time of Henry VIII. — and especial bad roads they were. He quoted from Leland's Itinerary some further inter- esting particulars as to the state of the roads in our immediate locality ; and also gave some extracts from Holingshed relative to the general state of roads and inns in the time of Henry VIII., Mary and Eli- zabeth, from which it appears that, while the roads were very bad, the inns were excellent, and well stocked with all commodities for the inward man, and some were of such capacity that they could easily lodge 200 or 300 persons with their horses. Risdon, in his survey, gives a similar account of the badness of the roads in the time of Charles II. VOL. in. 1834. F 38 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. For a long period of time all travelling was effected on horseback : horses were also used for the conveyance of merchandize and various sorts of goods, which were placed on their backs in crooks : very few farmers had any thing in the shape of a cart. These modes of travelling and conveyance were fatiguing, expensive, and occupied much time : yet it was not till the reign of James I. that carriages began to be used by the nobility, and for a very long time they were confined to London. The lecturer next gave some account of the arrival in this port of Cosmo de Medecis, in 1669, with a description of his suite and equipage, and journey to London, which occupied twelve days. Some further allusions were made to the roads in our neighbourhood, many of which were so narrow as not to admit of two horses pass- ing each other, they continued impassible for carriages even in the reign of Queen Anne. Different sorts of vehicles were common in London and many large towns before they were used in Devon- shire. No coachmaker was known in Plymouth till the reign of George III. A coach could not be purchased nearer than at Exeter, in the reign of George II. The Rogers family, residing at Blatchford, was amongst the first that used a coach in this neighbourhood. This was a subject of much wonder and curiosity, although it was a large, clumsy concern, drawn by four waggon horses, which never ven- tured beyond a sober walk. Mail coaches were established here in 1796. The following advertisement from the Newcastle Courant, was given as an instance of the rate of travelling in 1712 : — " All that desire to pass from Edinburgh to London, or any other " place on that road, let them repair to Mr. John Baillie's, at the " Coach and Horses, at the head of Canongate, Edinburgh, every " other Saturday; or to the Black Swan, in llolborn. London, every " other Monday ; at both which places they may be received in ;i " stage coach, which performs the whole journey in thirteen days, " without any stoppage, having eighty able horses to perform tin "whole stage. Each passenger paying £4. 10s. Od. for the whole "journey, allowing each passenger twenty pound weight, and all " above to pay 6d. per Ib. The coach sets out at six o'clock in tin- " morning. Performed by Henry Harrison, Robert Yorke, Richard " Speight, and Richard Crott." In 1758 the roads about Plymouth began to be amended and have since that time been in a gradual state of improvement. In 1762 a diligence was established to run between Plymouth and Exeter, performing the journey in about 1 2 hours. Post chaises, stage waggons, MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. 39 and stage coaches were subsequently introduced. After paying a just tribute to the skill and industry of Me. Adam, and making some observations on our improved race of coachmen, the lecturer concluded his paper to the following effect: — What benefits may not literature derive by the more speedy and facile communication with all those parts of the world where civil- ization has, in former periods of its history, flourished and decayed, but the languages of whose people, the remains of their edifices, the preservation of their customs, and the prevalence of their manners, are all pages that fill up the great history of our globe, and of all that has gone before us. What advantages may not science derive from the greater ability to pursue her enquiries in an expanded field, not limited to one confined portion of the earth for its observations, nor circumscribed to one degree of climate, and so far, therefore, extending the range of observation, the contraction of which is ever disadvantageous to the scientific engineer, who endeavours to develope the laws of na- ture, designed as they are to act on and influence immense spaces, whilst the enquirer's observations are confined to a narrow limit. MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. THE ignition of lime by the flame of an oxyhydro- gen blow pipe, produces so intense a light that it has been applied with success as a substitute for the solar rays in illuminating the transparent microscope, and to such perfection has this instrument been brought, that the image of a flea is now shown in the metropolis equivalent in dimensions to a decently-sized camel. The microscope is admirably adapted for displaying to youth how much inferior to the delicate operations of nature are the most elaborately finished works of art : by its aid we find that the minutest beings share in the protection, and triumph in the bounty, of the Sovereign of all things : that the infinitely small man- ifest to the astonished eye the same proportion, regu- larity and design, which are conspicuous to the unassist- ed sight in the larger parts of creation. By finding all things formed in beauty, and produced for use, the mind is raised from the fleeting and evanescent appear- 40 MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. ances of matter to contemplate the permanent principl ledge that the whole rocee from the wisdom that originates in love. of truth, and acknowledge es proceeds There is hardly any natural production which is not capable of displaying wonders beneath the microscope ; the mechanism of insect forms is perhaps the most stri- king, as much of this is either indistinct or unapparent to the naked eye. A solar microscope, which may be purchased for five or six guineas, will magnify the wing of a midge, which is about one tenth of an inch in length, to the apparent size of five feet by three. The leaves of plants, very thin sections across the grain of various sorts of wood, and single drops of clear stagnant water, afford beautiful subjects for inspection. Figure 2 is the natural size of the proboscis, or that apparatus of a tabanus with which it pierces the skin of horses and oxen, and nourishes itself with their blood. Figure 1 is the same magnified. Fig. 1. MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. 41 The whole of this formidable apparatus is composed of six parts, (exclusive of two guards or feelers,) all of which are inclosed in a fleshy case, which in the figure is totally removed, as it contained nothing remarkably different from that of other insects with two wings. The guards or feelers are of a spungy or fleshy sub- stance, and are grey, covered with short hairs ; they are united to the head by a little joint of the same texture. These guards are a defence to the other parts of the apparatus, as they are laid upon it side by side whenever the animal stings, and by that means pre- serve it from external injury. The two lancets, B B, evidently open the wound, and are of a delicate and tender structure, formed like the dissecting knife of the anatomist, with a sharp point and slender edge, but gradually increasing to the back. The two shaped instruments, c c, appear as if intended to enlarge the wound, by irritating the parts round it ; to accomplish which, they are jagged, or toothed; they may also serve, from their hard and horny texture, to defend the tube E, which is of a softer nature, and tubular, to admit the blood and convey it to the stomach ; this delicate part is inclosed in a case, D, which entirely covers it. The eyes of insects are singu- larly constructed, but this struc- Fig. 4. ture is not discover- able without the assistance of the mi- croscope ; the eyes of the libellula are hexagonal, as seen in the accompanying figures, 3 and 4. Figures 5 and 6 present a leg of the Leucospis Dor- •Fig. 5. Fig. 3. 42 MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. sigera, of Fabricius, of the natural size, and magnified : Fig- 6. when examined with a weak magnifier the surface appears punctured, but when under the microscope it is seen to be covered with hexagons, as in the figure : in the centre of each hexagon is a small hair : the surface of the insect's body is similarly marked. It is found in Italy, Switzerland, France, and Germany. The scales of fish are beautiful subjects for exami- nation. Figures 7 and 8 represent the scales of a sole, of the natural and enlarged size ; the dentated end is that which lies without the skin, the other end is at- tached to it. Fis. 7. Fig. 8. The following is an easy method of preparing salts nud saline substances for viewing their configurations : — The subject to be examined must be dissolved in no larger a quantity of river or rain water than is suffici- ent to saturate it ; if it is a body easily dissolvable, cold water must be used, otherwise the water must be made warm, hot, or even boiling, as necessary. After it is perfectly dissolved it must rest for some hours, till, if over charged, the redundant saline particles are precipitated and settle at the bottom, or shoot into crystals, by which means a solution of the same strength is as likely to be had at one time as at an- other ; that is, a solution fully charged with as much MICROSCOPIC OBJECTS. 43 as it can hold up and no more, and by these precau- tions the configurations appear alike whenever tried ; whereas, if the water be less saturated, the proportions at different times will be subject to more uncertainty ; and if examined before such separation and precipita- tion of the redundant salts, little more will be seen than a confused mass of crystals. The solution being thus prepared, a drop of it must be taken up with a quill and placed on a flat slip of glass, about three quarters of an inch in width, and between three and four inches long, being spread on the glass with the quill, in either a round or an oval figure, till it appears about a quarter of an inch in dia- meter, and so shallow as to rise very little above the surface of the glass. When it is so disposed, it must be held quite level over the clear part of a fire, or over the flame of a candle, at a moderate distance, until the saline particles begin to gather and look white, or some other color, at the extremities of the edges ; then, the microscope being adjusted for its reception, it must be placed under the eye, and brought exactly to the focus of the magnifier ; and, after running over the whole drop, the attention must be fixed on that side where any increase or pushing forwards of crystalline matter from the margin towards the center is observed. Figure 9 represents the microscopical appearance of the salt of amber. The shootings of this salt are high- ly entertaining, though the process is very slow ; many spicula shoot from the edge towards the middle of the solution, and from the pointed ends of the spicula, Fig. 9, great variety of diversifi- ed branches may be ob- served, variously divided and subdivided, and form- ing at last a complete winter scene of trees with- out leaves. N. 44 FROM THE PERSIAN. I have wandered afar through the climes of the West; Where green islands joyously smile on the main; I have lingered where Ararat lulls on his breast The tempest whose terrors have smote him in vain; Industan! I have strayed through thy riches and splendour; Victorious Kahira ! my foot hath delayed Where clustering, gold-sprinkled, cassia trees render, To thy minaretfs sanctity, beauty and shade; I have sate where the thrice blessed Nile speeds its flood, With the tributes of verdure, through Egypt's parched air ; In the shades of Benares, alone, I have stood; And have knelt at the shrine of our Prophet, in prayer ; And yet, wheresoever my footsteps might wend, Though joys ever new might exert varied powers, To my fondly loved home still would memory tend To thy rose-gardens, Shiraz, thy blossoms and bowers. O ! thus the Most High, in his wisdom, hath planned A link that endureth through distance and time, Enchaining each heart to its own native land With attraction untaught by a far fairer clime. So loves the swart Arab his home in the wild, He would not exchange, for the vast earth's controul, His verdureless sand-plain where Spring never smiled — His steed of the desert — his freedom of soul. So I will remember, whatever intervene, The land where the summer-beams gloriously shine; So I will, for ever, rejoice in the scene Where Roknabad's fountains are bathing the vine. FRANZ. Printed and Published by G. HEARDER, Buckwell St. PLYMOUTH. THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, FEBRUARY 1, 1834. No. 14.] PRICE SIXPENCE. [VOL. III. GAS WO'RKS, PLYMOUTH. DURING the last month we have had repeated oppor- tunities of visiting the Gas Works, at Mill Bay ; and, notwithstanding the general sombre appearance of that establishment, we have ventured to go there to select a subject for the Frontispiece of our Museum on the present occasion. The engraving is a representation of the Retort House ; the operations of which, we shall now proceed to describe, together with the whole pro- cess of gas making. Though our friend, who conducts this establishment, does not wish to appear in print himself, we scarcely need inform our readers to whom we are indebted for the leading article of our present number. The Retort House then be it known, is the place where the process of gas making commences. The fit- tings of the interior consist of a series of iron cylinders placed horizontally in ovens of fire-proof brick work over most intense coke furnaces. These cylinders or retorts are each 6 feet long, and 1 foot in diameter in- side and are hermetically sealed at the inner end, the out- er end is the mouth of the retort, where the coals, from which the gas is extracted, are introduced. This is done by means of a vessel of sheet iron in the form of a half cylinder, made to fit loosely the inside of the re- tort. Our readers will picture to themselves an im- mensely large cheese taster and they will have before their mind's eye at once, the figure of this half cylinder which gas men call the scoop ; this is filled with coals, a busher and half, imp., which is a charge for one VOL. in. 1834. G 46 GAS WORKS, PLYMOUTH. retort, and is then lifted by three men, two at the front with a bar, and one at the handle, — pushed into the retort, and turned upside down ; the charge of coals is thus left in the retort, and the scoop is withdrawn to be filled again for the next, and so on till the whole series is charged. It is really amusing (if not inter- esting) to see with what an almost military correctness the men perform this work, the whole of which does not occupy more than about two minutes to each retort. When the coals are introduced "into the retort a lid is immediately applied to the mouth luted on, air tight, and secured by means of a cross bar and centre screw, the ends of the bar dropping into a lug at each side of the mouth. This done, the distillatory process com- mences immediately ; and the gas begins to ascend through the upright pipe, inserted in the mouth of the retort, about three inches from the end or just within the lid. The time required to distil, or, to use the technical term, to carbonize a charge of coals is six hours, by which time, if the process be properly con- ducted, the whole of the gas will be drawn off, mid all that is left in the retort, is the coke, a mere ciiput mortuum. The lids are now removed, the coke with- drawn by means of a long iron rod with a hook at the end, and the recharging with fresh coals commences again ; and so on without intermission. The whole range as will be seen by reference to the engraving consists of 44 retorts of 5 each, except the two end ones, which are sevens. When we last, visited the works the whole of these, except the seven at the right hand, were in full operation; of course the quantity of coals carbonized per diem will be 222 bushels, imperi- al, or 2 bushels less than 14 quarters. Just above the retorts is a large pipe, running in a parallel line with, and along the whole length of, the range of retorts ; this is called the hydraulic main, being charged with coal tar, or other liquid, to about half its diameter. Into this pipe the bent ends of the up- right, or, as gas men call them, the ascension pipes, which rise from the mouths of the retorts, to carry off GAS WORKS, PLYMOUTH. 47 the gas, are inverted ; — see the engraving. But it should be observed here, that these bent pipes do not terminate at the top of the hydraulic, to which they are connected by means of flanges, strongly bolted on, but pass through the top and dip into the included liquid, about two inches below the surface. This sim- ple but admirable contrivance acts, as a seal, to prevent the return of the gas, when the lids are removed from the mouths of the retorts, for the purpose of discharg- ing and recharging : hence its name — the hydraulic . main. We must now take leave of our drawing, and the retort house ; the remaining part of this paper will be merely descriptive. A pipe rises from the right hand end of the hydrau- lic main, shewn in the print as if cut off: this pipe conveys the gas away to other parts of the works, to pass through other processes : the first of these is the condenser, as it is usually called in gas establishments ; but it is more properly a refrigerator ; the use of which is to reduce the temperature of the gas, and to con- dense the tar into a liquid, which comes over with the gas in an aeriform state. This condenser or refrigerator is simply a cistern of cold water, through which a series of pipes is passed, similar in principle to a dis- tiller's worm. The gas being now sufficiently cooled, and the tar deposited in a chamber prepared for it at the bottom of the condenser, it flows thence to the purifier. This is an iron vessel, shaped like a very large drum, closed at the top and bottom ; it is char- ged with a strong solution of lime water, about the consistency of thick cream, through which the gas is forced, in actual contact with the solution. This process is of vital importance in all gas establishments. It is known that two distinct gases are liberated by the decomposition of pit coal, namely, carburetted, and sulphuretted, hydrogen gas. The first of these is the gas required for illuminating purposes, in as pure a state as it is possible to obtain it ; consequently, if the least particle of the sulphuret be suffered to go over, 48 TO OLIVIA. the carburet will be, exactly in that proportion, impure. Hence the use of lime, in some form or other, in all gas works, by means of which the sulphur is taken up and the carburet passes on, free from contamination, into the gasometer or reservoir, where it is preserved till wanted for use. TO OLIVIA. "On pense a toi." As a sweet voice of music's power, That sheds a calm o'er sorrow's hour : As a pure light ordained to shine On life's wide way, with beams divine, I think of thee. In festal halls where joy's sweet tone Leads forth the fairest, one by one, One image brighter than than the whole, Pure in its youth, enwraps my soul ; I think of thee. Should sadness droop his pinion wan How soon the dreary shade is gone ; When, through the mist of tears, I gain A moment unalloyed with pain To think on thee. When memory's dream is on the past What time love's silken chords were cast Around our souls and, heart in heart Enwreathed, we hoped no more to part I think of thee. And till that hour when death's dark spell May shroud the two that love so well Shall deep affection, day by day, Within my bosom gently say I think of thee. LEON. Devonshire Place. 49 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. MR. EDITOR, — The following remarks on the Natural History of this neighbourhood are either the results of my own experience or are inserted on credit- able testimony. CLASS MAMMALIA, LlUU. ORDER — PRIM A TES. Genus, Vespertilis, or the Bats. Sp. 1. Vesp. Murinus, vulgarly called Flitter Mouse, and Ranny Mouse, is the species most common about here. Great numbers of them pass the day time in summer, and during winter hiber- nate, in the holes of quarries, as at Catdown, Oreston, &c., also in old buildings and out- houses. I have been told that at Yealmpton, a few winters ago, when an old lime kiln was being- repaired, the workmen, in order to proceed, removed from the delapidated parts of the fabric some dozens of this and the following species, which had crept into the crevices, no doubt, for the sake of warmth. During the evenings of summer we observe them in shady lanes, and in situations least exposed, where they are liable to fall in with their insect food. When flying near old buildings they have the habit of repeat- edly clinging for the moment to some projecting part, and then renewing their flight. I believe this is executed by the fore claws alone, whilst, in order to sleep or hibernate, they invariably suspend themselves by their hind claws ; and, in fact, refuse to be placed in the opposite way : I would suggest that this position may tend to promote their torpidity or sleep, by the increased flow of blood to the head. Sp. 2. Vesp. Auritus, or Long-eared Bat, is nearly as frequent about Plymouth as the last named, has received the same vulgar appellations, and has similar habits ; excepting, perhaps, that it flies in a rather higher medium. It any proof were 50 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. deficient of the great power of sight possessed by these animals at night, I might state that, having by accident omitted to close an opening in a pane of glass, in a room where one of these animals was lodged, I was mortified to find that during its first night's flight about the apart- ment it had escaped through the aperture. Sp. 3. Vesp. Noctula, or Great Bat. There is suffici- ent evidence of this species being found here. I was told by a labourer, at Oreston, that he had now and then seen a bat of the size of a pigeon, fly in the direction of the quarries ; and, once or twice, I saw it myself. I have also been informed that a surgeon of this town poss- esses the skeleton of one obtained here ; — its width is 14 J inches. Colonel Montagu found the Greater and Lesser Horse-shoe Bats at Torbay, and the Barbastelle at Kingsbridge. The best accounts of the habits and economy of these creatures will be found in the "Natural History of Selbburne/1 and in " Bingley's> British Quadrupeds ;" and the best scientific characters in " Fleming's British Ani- mals." ORDER — FERJE. Genus, Phoca, or the Seals. Sp. 4. Ph. Vitulina, or Common Seal, is not, I believe, ever noticed nearer to Plymouth than at the Lands End, where this species is said to be pretty numerous ; but I am not aware if the skins form a branch of commerce at that spot. The Ph. Bicolor and Ph. Barbata seem con- fined to more northern latitudes. (lewis, Catns9 or the Dog tribe. I shall not allude to the common dog which being a domesticated animal and liable to great variation would prove too diffuse a subject. Sp. 5. Canis Vnlpes, or Common Fox, is sufficiently abundant around here both to provide ample NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 51 sport for our hunting gentry and the greatest annoyance to owners of poultry. Foxes are plentiful in Maristow and Warleigh woods, and in the vicinity of Yealmpton. We are not infested by the only British ani- mal of the Genus, Felis, the wild cat : (Felis . Catus Ferus) which seems indeed confined to Wales and Scotland, and is four times the size of the domesticated variety. What are termed wild cats, in this neighbourhood, are only the offspring of our tamed animal, but which have a great tendency to return to their former state of liberty. Genus, Mustela, or Weasels. Sp. 6. Must. Foina, Common Martin, or Martern Cat, is occasionally observed in the woody parts of this country, and is either shot by the game- keepers or used to teach dogs to hunt. The Pine ]\Jartin appears to be peculiar to Wales and Scotland. Sp. 7. Must. Putorius, Polecat or Fitchet, is more common than the Martin, and, being very des- tructive to game, is systematically ensnared by gamekeepers and others. Sp. 8. Must. Vulgaris, or Common Weasel, is taken, in great numbers, in traps constructed for the purpose. Sp. 9. Must. Erminea, or Stoat, is equally common with the last, and is much destroyed. Rarely we see or hear of specimens, in their winter clothing of white or pied fur. Sp. 10. Must. Lutra, or Otter, has, by recent authori- ties, been very properly removed from this Linncan Genus. It is an animal more frequent on the sea coast than about our rivers. Per- sons, fond of the sport, visit the rocks at Bovi- sand, Whitsand, &c., during the summer, and, by means of small but spirited dogs, drive the otters from their holes and then shoot them. Sometimes also those who keep hounds pursue them in the vicinity of rivers. The fish ponds 52 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. at Kitley,Langdon,&c. are frequented by otters. Genus, Ursus, the Bear kind. Sp. 11. Ursus Meles, or Badger. This is an animal which has its retreats in secluded spots although, certainly, at this day, but sparingly. For the sake of a premium, the gamekeepers destroy these animals, upon the pretence of their com- mitting ravages among hares and pheasants; but I have reason to doubt the accuracy of this excuse. Such as are taken alive, by means of bags placed at the entrance of their dens, are sent to this and other towns to be sold to sport- ing characters for trial of strength with their best fighting dogs, and to publicans who have bad- ger baits for the entertainment of their guests. Retreats or " Holts" of the badger are to be seen at Langdon Yealmpton &c. (ieinix, Talpa, the Mole. Sp. 12. Tl\il\}u Kitropa'f/, or Common Mole, is an ordi- nary inhabitant of the garden and occasions -t r Xanthus bellowed like a bull;'" "That it hissed like a cauldron wheivin ;i fat boar was Stewing In /'/* men Innl ;" " That lancet drink blood ;'r "That his heroes fought like Jlamcs ;" "That they fouuht lik<> voracious ?n>/n -x who devour lambs and kids;" "That Hcctar walked about like a sm>ii'-C(i]>pci and fired a volley, which had well nigh routed them by the surprise it caused; but animated by their officers they rushed forward and. before the end of the battle, that French corps was nearly destrov The infantry still commonly marched and drew up six deep, and fired by files coming forward in succession. They did not break into columns, by wheeling backwards or forwards, but marched to a flank by facing in that direction : as a regular step, and still less the lock step was unknown, they moved with great irregularity and fluctuation, lengthening out in the inarch, and forming irregular waves in the line of front. It was in the year 1704, during the campaign in Italy, when Prince Eugene stormed the French lines of Turin, that a Prussian captain in that army first conceived it practicable to make his men step off together: by means of a plentiful application of baculine argument and persevering obstinacy, he succeeded so far, that when the regi- ment returned to winter quarters at Potsdam it was the wonder of the day and the Prince of Anhalt Dessau, deservedly celebrated for the high discipline he introduced into the Prussian infantry, ran with other officers to witness the singular fact that all the men of the Captain's company could at the word of command lift their legs up at once, and step forward together. He went and mentioned it to the king, who ordered it to be adopted in the guards and soon after in all the regiments, and thus laid the foundation of that admirable unifor- mity in marching for which the Prussian troops have been long celebrated. It was after the war that the same prince invented the iron ramrods, which, giving a greater facility in loading, produced the more attenuated order of the troops, and the whole system of platoon firing. Later still, Winterfeld and Frederick the Great intro- PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 81 duced the oblique or diagonal movements, regular wheeling into columns and echelon manoeuvres. The Cavalry mounted on heavy horses used straight swords with basket hilts and too short for proper execution. Cuirasses were worn by all the horse even in the English army ; and since the bat- tle of Blenheim the Scots Greys, and the late Irish dragoons wore grenadier caps, assumed it is said on the field of battle, from the grenadiers a cheval of the French guards whom they had driven into the Danube on that occasion. The cavalry, formed in three or even four ranks, moved seldom out of a walk, and usually charged at a trot, firing their carbines and pistols before they used the sword. It is said generals Lumley and Wood first began to lead on at a gallop and sword in hand at the battle of Oudenaude, when that improvement was perhaps caused by the heat of the action, the even- ness of the ground, and the necessity of haste, more than from reflec- tion. The Austrians were in the habit of charging in whole lines, without intervals of squadrons. In short the natural impulse of the riders generally did more good than the system of discipline then in vogue. Besides the horse there were light horse, differing from the others chiefly in their want of a breast- plate. Dragoons were mount- ed infantry with short swords, long muskets, and wearing gaiters instead of boots ; with drums and fifes instead of trumpets. They were used for rapid movements but were intended for fighting on foot. Lancers were unknown, and hussars were considered irregular corps, wearing no regimentals, and were so few that two or three squa- drons were the whole the French possessed ; while with Marlborough, there were only two regiments of Hungarians, lent him by Prince Eugene. Vauban, in France, and Cohorn, in Holland, had then very re- cently formed regularly educated engineers, and their profession had now become truly scientific : the artillery also of all the continental armies was trained upon scientific principles. Ricochet fires were universally adopted : carcasses, shells, grape and canister firings were well understood, but the guns themselves were still heavy and un- wieldy, and, in consequence of the absence of the fine roads to which we are now accustomed, they were machines very embarrassing to move in action. England was, so far as regards these arms, inferior to other nations : we had no national corps of engineers, and even our artillery was in a great measure officered by foreigners. Even the cannon foundry of Woolwich was not constructed till 1707. In the search which I have been enabled to make, for plans and reports, in the papers of the Marlborough collection, I have not found one VOL. in. — 1834. M 82 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. signed by a British native engineer; and in those of the celebrated Duke of Cumberland, so late as 1760, there was only one that came from an Englishman. The commisariat of those days was likewise slow, and often in- efficient; every thing necessary to be done required separate orders. Cannon, bullets, powder, &c. ; and, among the allies more especially, consultations and negociations with the civil departments. Some- times refusals of the most obviously necessary stores, and always delays in their production, were to be witnessed. The furnishing of bread was an everlasting impediment to the movements, and, as the tents experienced the want of great coats for the men, sick- ness was too prevalent in the camps. At head quarters the march of affairs was usually in a still worse plight : the commanders in chief were not supported by a well organized and well educated staff; they were restricted by orders from their courts, even in trivial movements, and not enabled to take advantage of the faults of their opponents. In the allied camp there were, moreover, Dutch field deputies, true Dutch burghers, perfectly ignorant of war, ever anxi- ous for a battle when there was no chance of one, and obstinately opposing the resolution to fight when a proper opportunity offered. Marlborough had indeed much more trouble with the ministry at home, and his Dutchmen at head quarters, than with the hostile army; Eugene had crossings with the hard headed Aulic council of Vienna, and Yillars with the old women and frightened administra- tion of Louis XIV.'s court. Having minutely described the various movements and manoeuvres of the contending parties, the lecturer gave the result of this impor- tant conflict, which, as we have previously intimated, we shall give more at length in a future number. The allies, exhausted with fatigue, halted at a short distance be- yond the field of battle; having captured 10 pieces of cannon, 20 stand of colours, 26 standards, and some kettle drums. With the exception of about 300, the prisoners were all wounded. These, amounting to 3,000, the enemy was allowed to take away, upon con- dition, that they should be accounted prisoners of war until exchanged. This circumstance has caused several writers to overlook the num- ber of prisoners. The loss in both armies was variously estimated ; and in most cases overrated. St. Helaire, who commanded the French artillery, states that of the allies at 25,000 men, and the French at 14,000. But from a concurrence of several accounts, deduced from returns, the confederates had 5,544 killed, and 12,706 wounded, making a PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 83 total of 18,250 : and of these returns it is necessary to remark, that most of the regiments taken into pay by England and Holland ser- ved under particular stipulations of pay and remuneration to their sovereigns for losses : hence the commanding officers always took care, that, after a battle, their regiment should appear to have lost in the field, those who had previously deserted or the names of men who had never existed. This is evident in the Dutch accounts, when the killed on paper exceeded one half of the wounded. The French had about 11,000 men, killed and wounded. Their artillery ex- pended 12,000 rounds of ball and grape, and Folard estimates the musket balls fired on both sides at 1,800,000. Marlborough had two horses killed under him ; Eugene was wounded, Lts. Gen. Baron Spaar, Oxenstiern, Week, and Zettaw were killed ; Spaen, Webb, and Warkerbart were wounded. Major Gen. Hamilton wounded, and Brigadier Lallo killed ; Cronstrom and May killed; to whom may be added Lord Tullebardin and Sir John Prendergast. The French lost Messrs, de Chemerault, Palavicini Revel, and de Croi, killed ; Marshal Villars, Due de Guiche, Messrs, de Tourne- maine, Albergotti, Courcellon, d'Anjeunes, de St. Agnan, de Zele, and de Gondrin. wounded ; also Colonels Chardon, Moret, Charost, Moucant d'Autrey, and Steckemberg, all serving as Brigadiers, killed. Thus ended this terrible battle, the result of which amounted to a mere forcible displacement of the French, to give the allies leisure for the siege of Mons, which, after a regular siege, surrendered to them by capitulation. JANUARY 9TH. — Mr. WALKER, On the Tides. The lecturer commenced by adverting to the wonderful effects which tide phenomena produce on the minds of those who, for the first time, witness the alternate rise and fall of the water's surface ; the rapid and changing direction of tidal currents. He compared the streams of the ocean to the circulation of the blood in animals, since the constant agitation of the waters of the ocean, and their transfer from one locality to another, tend to promote submarine animal and vegetable life, and preserve the whole system of anima- ted nature in a healthy state. He then proceeded to shew, that the causes of the tides had in all ages exercised human curiosity ; that various theories had been advanced by many celebrated sages of an- tiquity as well as of modern times ; but that Newton's theory of universal gravitation alone could enable us to account for all the 84 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. phenomena of the tides. It was shewn that the tides result from the unequal attraction of the sun and moon on the centre and sur- face of our earth ; the waters being more attracted at the nearest surface than the solid nucleus at the centre, and the waters on the opposite side are less attracted than the central parts ; by these unequal forces the waters are raised above their medium level, imme- diately under the moon, and also on the opposite side of the earth ; and depressed below their medium level, at parts 90 degrees on each side ; the elevation corresponding to high water, the depression to low water. The lecturer explained the cause of the unequal height of the morning and evening tide, of the same day, as resulting from the alternate sojourn of the sun in the northern and southern hemis- pheres ; he shewed, by a diagram, that, in consequence of the rota- tion of the earth on its axis, any place in north or south latitude must in summer or winter pass alternately through a superior and an inferior tide, because the poles of the tide are drawn by the sun from the equator towards the tropics, and there will be alternately, every twelve hours, a high and a low tide. It was shewn that the solar and lunar tides coexist, and that their sum produces springs, and their difference neap tides ; that there are two elevations and two depressions of the water's surface, at 180 degrees from each other ; that the elevations have been named " tide waves ;" that these elevations travel in different localities, with different velocities, varying from 800 to 2£ miles an hour: that the greatest velocity is in the open and deep ocean, the least up the meandering and shallow bed of a river: that the tide penetrates 600 miles up the River Amazon, and to a height of 300 feet above the level of the sea. Many other singular and interesting tide phenomena were noticed and explained, and the lecturer stated that the tide undulation which fills our ports is derived from a tide wave, originating in that zone of water which begirds our globe in latitudes south of Cape Horn, and that it is at least two days in travelling to our shores. He then proceeded to detail the results of between 2 and 3,000 tide observations made in Plymouth Dock Yard, by means of a self-re- gistering tide gauge, whereby some new and interesting laws have been elicited, which, being made in our neighbourhood, may be acceptable to our readers. It has been ascertained that every tide ranges as much above as it falls below a certain point; that this point may be considered the medium level of the sea, when undis- turbed by winds, waves, or tides; it should be used as a standard PLYM AND TAMAR HUMANE SOCIETY. 85 from which to compute heights and make scientific calculations — at half tide (whether springs or neaps) the surface of the water stands at the above height. It is high water in Hamoaze at full or change at 5h. 33m. but the highest tide happens at 7h. 10m. the least tides being at llh. 49m., the greatest range of tide from low to high water on the same day is 19ft. 3in., and the least only 5 feet. From April to October the evening exceeds the morning tide by 8 inches, but during the winter months the morning tides are higher by 8 inches. The most interesting result deduced from these observations appears to be that the medium level of the sea is subject to changes in consequence of fluctuations in the weight of the superincumbent air as indicated by the barometer. Mr. Walker says these fluctu- ations are perfectly consistent with philosophical reasoning and the laws of equilibrium in fluids : — again, the atmosphere surrounding the globe may be taken as a constant quantity, and all fluctuations in it as transfers of pressure from one locality to another; so that if a diminution of atmospheric pressure take place over a part of the ocean the water will flow in, and raise the surface until the equili- brium be restored. Just as the water rises in the bore of a pump as the weight of the atmosphere in it is diminished. The lecturer stated that, if the mercury fall 1 inch in the barometer, the surface of the sea rises about 16 inches; and if there be a rise in the baro- meter the water, by the increasing pressure of the atmosphere, will be lowered on an average 16 inches to 1 inch of mercury: all this was explained as perfectly consistent with the laws of nature, and we regret that our limits will not allow of a more detailed account of the various and highly interesting topics adverted to. THE SPECTATOR. No. V. PLYM AND TAMAR HUMANE SOCIETY. IT was stated, by a correspondent, in the Spectator, No. I, that the objects of this society were to resusci- tate persons apparently dead by drowning; and to confer suitable rewards on such individuals as risked their own lives in endeavouring to save those of their fellow creatures. In proof of the necessity of such an institution, in this port, it may be mentioned, that the honorary secre- tary to the institution, in his second annual report, 86 PLYM AND TAMAR HUMANE SOCIETY. which was read at the anniversary meeting, held on the 15th ult., stated that 104 cases of drowning had occurred during the year, exclusive of those from ship- wreck on the Breakwater, and not less than 24 deaths, all in this district : many more would inevitably have occurred had it not been for the philanthropic exer- tions of the society. These are startling facts ! which cannot but arouse our sympathy, whilst, at the same time, our surprise is excited that, in a port like this, public attention should have remained so long unawakened to the necessity of such an institution, when it is well known that the Royal Humane Society of London has been in existence since the year 1774. We must not however omit to observe that the thanks of our fellow townsmen are due to J. R. Roberts, Esq. for his benevolent and unwearied exertions during the progress and establishment of the Plym and Tamar Society; he may be justly considered as its founder: humble as our own meed of approbation may be, we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of hereby recording it ; although we are perfectly aware that he can afford to dispense with, and has too much good sense to care for, any thing in the shape of adulation. One very important observation was made in the course of the report, alluded to above, namely that "Syncope (fainting) no( unfrequentlly occurs at the moment of submersion :" this accounts for the restora- tion of persons in whom life had been extinct for an hour, or an hour and a half, as was the case in two in- stances in this district during the last year. The Hon. Secretary observed that the Parent Society was anxious to call the attention of medical and physiological ob- servers to this most interesting fact, a knowledge of which may prove of the utmost importance, as the very - best physiologists have recorded their conviction that death will occur in from three to five minutes after respiration has been suspended by strangulation or drowning. We are indebted to the kindness of the Hon. Secretary for the following information which was ori- PLYM AND TAMAR HUMANE SOCIETY. 87 ginally promulgated by M. Le Roy, in his researches on Asphyxia (cessation of the pulse.) When the arterial blood has once circulated through the body it is unfit to support the vital actions without being submitted to the influence of oxygen gas, one of the constituents of our atmosphere. The blood having circulated once through the body is termed venous, black or carbonised blood and must traverse the circuit of the lungs, where, by the almost immediate contact between it and the oxygen gas contained in the air, it becomes decarbonised, of a florid hue, and again fitted for the purposes of vitality. If, however, breathing be in any way suspended, the blood, cut oiFfrom its necess- ary supply of oxygen, and unable to discharge its carbon, is at length circulated through all parts of the body in the shape of venous or carbonated blood. Such blood acts as a direct poison on the brain and nervous system, depriving them of their volition and sensation, and, in from three to five minutes, the vital spark is utterly extinct. Why then it may be asked are our exertions demand- ed if a body has lain for a longer time than this under water? The following is an answer. The sentiment and the sight of death close at hand, or any other im- minent danger, frequently produce a sudden fainting fit. When this suspension of the vital phenomena immediately, or almost immediately, follows immersion, the circulation and respiration are simultaneously stop- ped, black blood does not circulate in the arteries, it does not carry its fatal influence to the vital organs, and the drowned person may sometime afterwards recover his senses as after an ordinary fainting fit. M. Le Roy made experiments on animals, in whom syncope is not so easily produced as in man, and found that they could be but seldom restored to life after a submersion of four or five minutes. Fodere in his " Medicine Legale," torn. iii. quotes from Plater the case of a female condemned to be drowned for the murder of her own infant, she fainted on being 88 PLYM AND TAMAR HUMANE SOCIETY. plunged into the water under which she remained a quarter of an hour, and subsequently recovered. The following signs may, with limitation, serve to indicate whether syncope occurred at the time of im- mersion or not. When a drowned person has struggled with death and the circulation has been continued after submersion, the head neck and lips are generally of a livid colour, the tongue is livid and swollen, the hands are closed, and often contain grass and sand, and a froth, frequently tinged with blood, may be perceived in the lips and nostrils. When syncope has followed im- mersion, and the circulation has stopped simultaneously with the respiration, and when no movement of inspi- ration has occurred under water, the face and neck neither present a tumified nor livid appearance, the hands are unclosed and contain no foreign substances, the mouth and nostrils are without froth. But, upon the immediate recovery of a body from the water, time ought not to be lost in conjecturing what may be the chances of restoration ; every energy ought to be awakened and presence of mind summon- ed, and should any bye standers be possessed of sufficient knowledge, and have such means at hand as are necessary, they will often effect more by l/teir promptitude than the medical assistant, when called late to the accident, will be able to produce by his more scientific, though complicated, manipulation. Our space will not admit of our detailing the me- thods recommended by the society for resuscitation ; these, no doubt, will be detailed in the report which, we understand, will be published in the course of this month ; every Plymouthian ought to have so valuable a pamphlet in his possession, for, amongst a people " who go down to the sea in ships, and have their bu- siness on the great waters/' we know not who may be the next victim. B. Printed and Published by G. Heardcr, Knckircll Street, Plymouth. G. P. HEARDKB, SC. Coton CTontJuit THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, MARCH 1, 1834. No. 15.] PRICE SIXPENCE. VOL. III. THE PERAMBULATOR, No. VII. OLD TOWN CONDUIT, PLYMOUTH. To the Editor of the South Devon Monthly Museum. THE "destruction" of the Conduit, at the head of Old Town Street, has been lamented — and cleverly — in verse. Now, it may be consoling to observe that, for " destruction" we may read removal and renovation. The front of the building has been identically re-erected in the wall on the east side of the road to North hill, with the addition of two or three hitherto neglected and valuable fragments of the Drake period, and a tablet in compliment to the present Mayor. If, as an instrument in this work, I lose any portion of any good man's esteem, let me endeavour in a measure to re-instate myself by graphically restoring the revered building, precisely as it originally stood. The annexed view is from an accurate sketch taken about a fortnight before the work of removal com- menced. Peace to the remains of Francis Drake ! GEORGE WIGHTWICK. George Place. VOL. in. 1834. N 90 TO THE SOUL OF JULIA. When the throstle flings its music Through the merry, merry glen, And the glowing earth rejoices In the morning's light again, O I once more may I be near thee, Linger fondly by thy side, Listen to that voice which never Breathed a sound to chill or chide. Let me see thy soft eyes sparkle Through thy flowing sunny hair, With a tender meaning lighted, With a love that mocks at care; Let me feel the gentle tremble Of thine unresisting hand, As of old when I have clasped it In our dreams of fairy-land . Let me feel again the pressure Of thy fragrant thrilling lip, Softer than the dewy blossom Where the wild bee stoops to sip: Give me back that dream of rapture, Give me back that matchless time; O ! restore the thoughts they wakened In my withered manhood's prime. But thou dost not — canst not answer To my wild and erring strain, That an overwrought spirit weaveth To beguile enduring pain ; Oh ! thou dost not — canst not scatter Even a solitary light, Or a whisper of affection, On my cold and cheerless night. NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD, 91 Fair, fair creature, far too lovely For our sphere of crime and sin, Where the fondest hopes of promise Flourish but to wither in : Thou art gone to what is meetest For thine everlasting rest, From the few who knew and prized thee To a home among the blest. If, from that far land of glory, Angels ever can survey, Our dark earth, do thou forgive me In my lost and reckless way ; If I stray with careless footsteps Tis when Memory's voice of pain Stings my brain with recollections Of our merry mountain glen. LEON. Devonshire Place. NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. Continued from page 52. Genus, Erinaceus, the Hedgehog. Sp. 14. Erinaceus Europaus, Common Hedgehog. This too, like some other animals already noti- ced, is the object of persecution, not only of those who professedly can prefer no charge against it but unseemliness, but likewise of gamekeepers, who state that it destroys eggs and the young of game ; this is untrue. Our thickset hedges are inhabited by these creatures, especially during their hibernation ; at this sea- son they collect a quantity of straw, &c., in a secluded part of a hedge, or underneath a stack 92 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. of wood, and envelope themselves in it till warmer weather. ORDER — GLIRES. Genus, Mus, Rat and mouse. It is very doubtful if the species called Mus Rattus, or Black Rat, be still in existence in this neighbourhood. A few years ago one was seen to swim from a quay at Oreston to a ship some way off. Sp. 15. Mus Decumanus, or Brown Rat, is the common sort; these rats have been the destroyers of the smaller and black kind, and having usurped their place by a war conducted since their introduction at the beginning of the last century, have proved themselves the much more formidable and troublesome guests of the two, by devouring the framework of the house, the clothes and the food of its inhabitants. The white variety has occasionally been found here. Sp. 16. Mus Amphibius, or Water Rat, is known more or less throughout this kingdom ; in this neigh- bourhood very few have been detected. Sp. 17. Mus Musculus, or Common Mouse, is an ani- mal more frequent in our houses than the brown rat, and is well known for its destructive powers. Sp. 18. Mus Sylvaticus, Long-tailed field Mouse, in- fests our gardens in great numbers, and is en- trapped by the labourer on account of the ravages it commits amongst newly-sown seeds, particularly beans and peas. Countrymen designate this and the following species "Ground Mice." Sp. 19. Mus ArvaliSy or Meadow Mouse. This animal is more partial to fields and hedges than gar- dens, and is not so common as the last kind. It has been thought that the Harvest Mouse, Mus Messorius (SHAW,) was peculiar to Hamp- NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 93 shire, but as I have heard some genuine reports from countrymen, of nests found suspended in thistles, and similarly constructed to those of the above named animal, we may suspect its presence in this county. Genus, Sciurus, the Squirrel. Sp. 20. Sc. Vulgaris, Common Squirrel. This active creature is found in abundance in all the thickly wooded parts of the country, as at Kitley, Radford, Saltram, &c. It is taken alive by means of boxes with trap doors. Genus, Myoxus, Dormouse. Sp. 21. My. Muscardinus, Common Dormouse. Sha- ped betwixt the murine and the squirrel tribe, this animal, from its delicacy of form, has always possessed a large share of claims to the same kind of protection as the squirrel receives, and accordingly whether within the rude grasp of the peasant or the precincts of the diminu- tive cage of its wealthier retainer, it suffers equally from confinement, becomes stifled by caresses, and the period of its life is shortened to a few days or weeks. Under the protection of the man of science, supplied with ample space and food suited to its economy, it has become an interesting spectacle, and has been subservient during its hibernation to the most _ enlightened experiments. It is no where abun- dant but is occasionally detected in thick hedge rows about plantations, as at Yealmpton, and Saltram. Genus, Lepus, Hare tribe. Sp. 22.' Lepus Timidus, Common Hare, and Sp. 23. Lepus Cuniculus, Common Rabbit, are animals well known to every one. Poaching has done much towards the extirpation of hares from this country. 94 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. ORDER — PECORA. Genus, Cervus, the Deer. Sp. 24. Cerv. Dama, Fallow Deer. This well known animal, although confined within the pales of the parks of our noblemen, is essentially unal- tered in its mode of life and appearance, and may still therefore be classed amongst the wild animals. The Red Deer, Cervus Elaphus, has been rarely seen as a straggler near Ashburton, and on the banks of the Tamar ; but, on account of the small numbers which have been noticed, and the probability of its entire extirpation, except as the property of noblemen, I am indu- ced to omit its formal insertion in our local Fauna. ORDER — CETE. (i cnu s , Dclpli in ?/.v . Sp. 25. Delph. Phoccena, Porpoise : found on our coast abundantly, in the summer months, in pursuit of fish, at the mouths of the rivers Plym and Tamar. The Grampus, Delph. Orca, is probably like- wise a visitor of the Sound and Harbour. The remaining animals of this neighbourhood are strictly domestic, either by reason of restraint or refi- ned breeding : they are the Goat, Sheep, Ox, Horse, Ass, Mule, and Hog. The whole number of British Mammalia may be stated at about 45, of these about 25 arc found in this neighbourhood, in a wild state. It is necessary to speak with hesitation as regards numbers, on account of the equivocal evidence of authorities and the want of limitation, with respect to distance, in the formation of a local Fauna. 95 AGE AND THE SPIRIT OF LIFE. SPIRIT. Like flowers, around a young bird's nest, Expanding in the morning's prime Hoar man, I twined around thy breast The fair delights of Childhood's time. I gave, thy Youth, Love's splendid dream More brilliant, by a thousand fold, Than e'er the real world may seem With all its fairest views unrolled*. I gave thee Manhood's ardent mind, To kneel where Science builds her throne ; To ride on Ocean, with the wind ; To seek new worlds in Ether's zone. I placed, in beauty, near thy side, To cheer life's daily shortened span, Thy cherished offspring's graceful pride : Now, thank me, thank me, hoaiy man ! AGE. I thank thee, from my heart, for all Though ever on life's lovely things Some memory cast a darkening pall ; Some blighting sorrow shook its wings. The dearest ties were earliest riven ; The ones I loved most — soonest died ; The dreams of joy, most sweetly given, Had still a sadness near their side. SPIRIT. ?Twas Wisdom's plan, to lead thy soul In search of an immortal stay; A hope, beyond the world's controul; A joy, that fadeth not away. I told thee of another clime, A land of cloudless light, where dwell, Beyond the wearing course of time, The dear ones thou didst love so well. * Love disclosed to me a new universe, a hundred times more resplendent with beauty and perfection than the real world. GOETHE. 96 MODE OF CUTTING GLASS WITH A RED-HOT IRON. No image of this cold world's care, No semblance of its crimes' excess Can ever cast a shadow there, A cloud to dim its loveliness. AGE. ;Twas that bright world, beyond the tomb, Which sent a pure prophetic ray ( ) ! Glorious Spirit, through the gloom That sometimes gathered round my way. And led me, like a beckoning star, Or Israel's pillared line of light That streamed its guiding radiance fur Over Memnonia's desert night. In sacred hope ; — whose soothing power . Quelled eveiy woe and still is ni^h, Expectant, in my latest hour, To smile upon me while I die. MENTOR. Stoke. MODE OF CUTTING GLASS WITH A RED-HOT IRON. In Answer to a Query, we have received from " A Young Expe- rimentalist/' respecting the mode of cutting glass with a red-hot iron we submit the following : — Take a piece of half inch iron bolt, twelve inches long, let an inch of one extremity be tapered nearly to a point, make this end red-hot, then take the glass to be cut, for instance a phial bottle which is required to be converted into a test tube; place the sharp end of the wire on the rim, at the mouth of the phial, let it remain a few moments and, if the glass do not crack, touch it with a wet finger, and a small crack will immediately be made, place the red-hot point, at the extremity of this crack, and draw it slowly down the neck and side of the bottle, the crack will imme- diately follow it; conduct this as far down as is required, then turn the point, at a right angle, and conduct the crack completely round the bottle, keeping it upright to prevent the top from falling off before the operation is quite finished. If the glass be already cracked the wire may be applied at that part; if not it is necessary always to begin at an edge. By this means broken glass vessels, which are apparently useless, may be very frequently turned to a good account. ED. 97 MINERAL RICHES OF OUR VICINITY. Continued and concluded from page 70. 5. — Trapp forms entire mountains of almost pure hornblende. Such is White Tor, on the west of Ta- vistock, and part of Cock's Tor, the first hill of the Moor on the Tavistock side. Good crystals of horn- blende may be occasionally found in these hills. Where this trapp comes in contact with slate, the latter is sometimes converted into a beautiful substance re- sembling ribbon jasper. Fine specimens of this sub- stance may be found on the western foot of White Tor, and on the side of the hill, near Ivy Bridge, which is capped with the " Race house/7 A few mines have been opened on the north of the Moor, at this line of junction ; and from these are obtained garnet, axinite, pseudopal, in some cases so near resembling real opal as not to be immediately distinguished from it. Whether the same substances exist under similar circumstances nearer home, will be better known when more attention shall have been paid to these rocks both by the mineralo- gist and the miner or quarryman. Another variety of trapp, greenstone, contains also felspar; and, in a quarry of it, on the Rail Road, asbestos and epidote are found. The writer has seen a specimen of epidote, from that quarry, covering a surface of more than a square foot, and in regular crystals throughout. 6. — Slate. This rock forms the greatest part of the country, for many miles round us ; and, in itself pro- duces little of any interest to the mineralogist. But our slate not only passes into greywacke, (usually called "dunstone,") in various parts ; but is also inter- sected by veins of quartz, felspar, trapp, and some other rocks of a more compound nature : and at these points good specimens not unfrequently occur. Of the trapp intersections notice has been taken above. Where porphyry or compact felspar is the intruder, some modifications of the latter sometimes occur ; and Mr. Phillips found a chiastolite (a rare mineral) near such a point, in the road from Ivy Bridge towards VOL. in. — 1834. o 98 MINERAL RICHES OF OUR VICINITY. Shaugh. When intersected by quartz, particularly as it approaches the granite, fine specimens of red jasper, as bright as sealing wax and veined with white, are very common : pieces of this are often seen in the streams along the Tavistock road, as we approach the down. They are very beautiful, but difficult and costly to polish. Crystals of quartz, tinged purple, and thence called " amethystine," are found also in the quartz veins as they approach the granite. The slate also contains lead mines ; of which two or three have been worked, on the Tamar ; that at Beer Alstone having been the most extensive. From these mines are obtained finely crystallized specimens of galena, (lead ore) in several varieties as to form ; some of them also containing silver, in considerable propor- tion. Silver ores too are found there, of three or four kinds, and sometimes native silver, in fibres like moss work. Beside what may be properly called ores, the lead is also found in the states of phosphate, sulphate, arseniate, and in a very beautiful, silky-looking variety of carbonate. Crystals of Bournonite also sometimes occur ; and blende, in various crystalline forms, is a very frequent product. Fluor is an abundant and most beautiful accompaniment of lead mines ; giving fine, large crystals of great variety in form and colour ; incrusted sometimes with regular crystals of transpar- ent quartz, or of rhomb spar ; at others with sparkling, iridescent pyrites ; again with lenticular carbonate of iron, the crystals coating one another so as to represent the opening of a rose ; and very frequently of all these ingredients combined ; forming specimens rivalling in beauty any the mineral kingdom affords. The waste heaps at Beer Alstone, even now, culled over and weather beaten as they have been, will afford the cir- cumspect observer many very good and characteristic specimens. Rich veins of lead, with their accompany- ing treasures for the mineralogist, doubtless still lie buri- ed in our slate country, to reward the future adventurer. Antimony also is said to occur in it, though no locality of 'this mineral is known to the writer. If MINERAL RICHES OF OUR VICINITY. 99 there be such, several characteristic varieties are gene- rally associated ; and some compound ores beside the pyrites which usually accompany metallic veins. Manganese is worked upon the Tamar; and of this we find four or five varieties crystallized as grey man- ganese ; and as many red, carbonate or silicate. Black manganese occurs in shining stalactiform or bunch-of-grape like masses. But the richest ground for the mineralogist is where the course of slate borders upon the granite ; where copper mines usually occur : there are found the great- est abundance of iron pyrites, as well as those of copper ; all of high metallic brilliancy and splendid colours. Their forms and associations with other minerals are not less beautiful and interesting ; and their varieties are exceedingly numerous. They occupy a large portion of every mineralogist's cabinet. Besides these are the fine green and blue carbonates, phos- phates, and arseniates of both copper and iron ; and the uranite ; not less remarkable for their rich and vivid colours than for their delicate forms and texture : and as they frequently associate, in the same specimen, with the splendid pyrites above mentioned, they seem to bear away the palm from the combinations of fluor, mentioned as related to the lead ores. Chlorite, pearl spar, carbonate of iron, tungstate of lime, and occasi- onally oxide of titanium, quartz, chalcedony, and many other minerals contribute to spangle the specimens raised from the copper lode : and lastly the native copper itself forming incrustations and mimic vegeta- tions of the most brilliant kind, frequently associated with a velvety surface of the acicular, or rich transpa- rent octohedrons of the ruby oxide ; whilst it contrasts with the others in colour and form, associates with them in beauty, and completes the assortment ; so that every tint and hue, seen in the rainbow, is found and rivalled in the produce of a copper mine. Far be it from the writer of this paper to induce any one to saunter the time, which belongs to other duties, in poring over the face of a rock, or kicking about the 100 THE GROUND SWELL. waste of a mine. But if three fourths of the hours which are spent over the glass, or in idleness or mis- chief, were thus employed in the open air, health would be a gainer; and many a subject of reflection, as well as rational and improving conversation, obtain- ed to supersede the ponderous jokes and inexplicable puns which impinge upon our tympanum almost wherever we fall into the society of half a dozen of our species. Those, at least, who have any predisposition for mineralogy, and convenience for passing a few oc- casional hours in a lime quarry, or about the heaps of a lead or copper mine, may gather, particularly from the latter — (with the additional zest of being self collected) — such a basis for the cabinet, as would give them the strongest encouragement to more widely ex- tended and intricate investigations. J. P. THE GROUND SWELL. How thou art writhing. — O, them mighty Main ! And heaving, from afar, the mountain sweep Of thine interminable folds, in pain : — Yet every wind has drooped its wings in sleep ; And though the moon is beaming on thy breast — Queen of the waves — thou heedest not her light ; Though reigning Silence woos thy flood to rest, There seems no influence in her gentle might. How wildly did the tempest grasp thy heart, In its vast depths, and make thee shriek on high To the black thunder, in thine agony ! How fiercely did it wring thee, to impart Convulsive motions to thy breast, so far From where its foaming waters met the winds in war. FRANZ. 101 AMRA. Continued from page 64. SHE replied, " To Adhar, priest of Indore, and the friend of Sarma. I was married to him while yet an infant, after the manner of our tribe/' Then perceiving his increasing disturbance, she continued, hurriedly, and with downcast eyes : — " I have never seen him : he has long dwelt in the countries of the south, whither he was called on an important mission ; but he will soon return to reside here in the sacred city of his fathers, and will leave it no more. Why then should Govinda be sad ?" She laid her hand timidly upon his arm and looked up in his face. Govinda would fain have taken that beautiful little hand, and covered it with kisses and with tears ; but he was restrained by a feeling of respect, which he could not himself comprehend. He feared to alarm her; he contented himself with fixing his eyes on the hand which rested on his arm ; and he said, in a soft melancholy voice, " When Adhar returns, Govinda will be forgotten." "Oh, never! never!" she exclaimed, with sudden emotion, arid lifting towards him eyes, that floated in tears. Govinda bent down his head, and pressed his lips upon her hand. She withdrew it has- tily and rose from the ground. At that moment her nurse, Gautami, approached them. " My child," said she, in a tone of reproof, u dost thou yet linger here, and the auspicious moment almost past ? If thou delayest longer, evil demons will disturb and consume the pious oblation, and the dead will frown upon the abandoned altar. Hasten, my daughter ; take up the basket of offerings, and walk before us." Amra, trembling, leaned upon her maids, and prepared to obey ; but when she had made a few steps, she turned back, as if to salute her brother, and repeated in a low emphatic tone the word " Never ! " — then turned away. Govinda stood looking after the group, till the last wave of their white veils disappeared ; and listened till the tinkling of their silver anklets could no longer be distinguished. Then he started as from a dream : he tossed his arms above his head ; he flung himself upon the earth in an agony of jealous fury ; he gave way to all the pent-up passions, which had been for years accumu- lating in his heart. All at once he rose : he walked to and fro ; he stopped. A hope had darted into his mind, even through the gloom of despair. " For what," thought he, " have I sold myself? For riches ! for honour ! for power ! Ah ! what are they in such a mo- ment ? Dust of the earth, toys, empty breath! For what is the 102 AMRA. word of the Great King pledged to me ? Has he not sworn to refuse me nothing ? All that is most precious between earth and heaven, from the mountains to the sea, lies at my choice ! One word, and she is mine ! and I hesitate ! Fool ! she shall be mine ! " He looked up towards heaven, and marked the places of the stars. " It is the appointed hour," he muttered, and cautiously his eye glanced around, and he listened ; but all was solitary and silent. He then stole along the path, which led through a thick grove of Cadam trees, intermingled with the tall points of the Cusa grass, that shielded him from all observation. He came at last to a little promontory, where the river we have mentioned threw itself into the Ganges. He had not been there above a minute, when a low whistle, like the note of the Chacora, was heard. A small boat rowed to the shore, and Sahib stood before him. Quick of eye and apprehension, the mute perceived instantly, that something unusual had occurred. He pointed to the skiff; but Govinda shook his head, and made signs for a light and the writing implements. They were quickly brought, and while Sahib held the lamp so that its light was invisible to the opposite shore, Govinda wrote, in the peculiar cipher they had framed for that purpose, a few words to his brother, sufficiently intelligible in their import, though dictated by the impassioned and tumultuous feelings of the moment. When lie had finished, he gave the letter to Sahib, who concealed it carefully in the folds of his turban, and then, holding up the fingers of both hum Is thrice over, to intimate, that in thirty days he would bring the answer, he sprang into the boat, and was soon lost under the mighty shadow of the trees, which stretched their huge boughs over the stream. Govinda slowly returned; but he saw Amn\ no more that night. They met the next day, and the next; but Amra, was no longer the same: she was silent, pensive ; and when pressed or rebuked, she became tearful and even sullen. She was always seen with her faithful Gautami, upon whose arm she leaned droopingly and hung her head like her own neglected flowers. Govinda was almost dis- tracted : in vain he watched for a moment to speak to Amra alone ; the vigilant Gautami seemed resolved, that they should never meet out of her sight. Sometimes he would raise his eyes to her as she passed, with such a look of tender and sorrowful reproach, that Amru would turn away her face and weep : but still she spoke not; and never returned his respectful salutation farther than by inclin- ing her head. The old Brahman perceived this change in his beloved daughter ; but not for some time: and it is probable, that, being absorbed in AMRA. 103 his spiritual office and sublime speculations, he would have had neither leisure nor penetration to discover the cause, if the suspici- ons of the careful Gautami had not awakened his attention. She ventured to suggest the propriety of hastening the return of his daugh- ter's betrothed husband ; and the Brahman, having taken her advice in this particular, rested satisfied ; persuading himself, that the arri- val of Adhar would be a certain and all-sufficient remedy for the dreaded evil, which in his simplicity he had never contemplated, and could scarcely be made to comprehend. A month had thus passed away, and again that appointed day came round, on which Govinda was wont to meet his brother's emis- sary : even on ordinary occasions he could never anticipate it without a thrill of anxiety, — now every feeling was wrought up to agony ; yet it was necessary to control the slightest sign of impatience, and wear the same external guise of calm, subdued self-possession, though every vein was burning with the fever of suspense. It was the hour when Sarma, having risen from his mid-day sleep, was accustomed to listen to Govinda while he read some ap- pointed text. Accordingly Govinda opened his book, and standing before his preceptor in an attitude of profound humility, he read thus : — " Garuna asked of the Crow Bushanda, ' What is the most excel- lent of natural forms ? the highest good ? the chief pain? the dear- est pleasure ? the greatest wickedness ? the severest punishment?' " And the Crow Bushanda answered him : ( In the three worlds, empyreal, terrestrial, and infernal, no form excels the human form. " ' Supreme felicity, on earth, is found in the conversation of a virtuous friend. " ' The keenest pain is inflicted by extreme poverty. " i The worst of sins is uncharitableness ; and to the uncharitable is awarded the severest punishment : for while the despisers of their spiritual guides shall live for a thousand centuries as frogs, and those who contemn the Brahmans as ravens, and those who scorn other men as blinking bats, the uncharitable alone shall be condemn- ed to the profoundest hell, and their punishment shall last for ever/ " Govinda closed his book ; and the old Brahman was proceeding to make an elaborate comment on this venerable text, when, looking up in the face of his pupil, he perceived, that he was pale, abstract- ed, and apparently unconscious that he was speaking. He stopped : he was about to rebuke him, but he restrained himself; and after re- flecting for a few moments, he commanded the youth to prepare for the evening sacrifice : but first he desired him to summon Amra to her father's presence. 104 AMRA. At this unusual command Govinda almost started. He deposit- ed the sacred leaves in his bosom, and, witli a beating heart and trembling steps, prepared to obey. When he reached the door of the zenana, he gently lifted the silken curtain which divided the apartments, and stood for a few moments contemplating, with silent and sad delight, the group that met his view. Amra was reclining upon cushions, and looking wan as a star that fades away before the dawn. Her head drooped upon her bosom, her hair hung neglected upon her shoulders : yet was she lovely still ; and Govinda while he gazed, remembered the words of the poet Calidas : " The water-lily, though dark moss may settle on its head, is nevertheless beautiful ; and the moon, with dewy beams, is render- ed yet brighter by its dark spots." She was clasping round her deli- cate wrist a bracelet of gems; and when she observed, that ever as she placed it on her attenuated arm it fell again upon her hand, she shook her head and smiled mournfully. Two of her maids sat at her feet, occupied in their embroidery ; and old Gautami, at her side, was relating, in a slow, monotonous recitative, one of her thousand tales of wonder, to divert the melancholy of her young mist; She told how the demi-god llama was forced to flee from the demons who had usurped his throne, and how his beautiful and faithful Seita wandered over the whole earth in search of her consort; and, being at length overcome with grief and fatigue, she sat down in the pathless wilderness and wept; and how there arose from the spot, where her tears sank warm into the earth, a fountain of boiling water of exquisite clearness and wondrous virtues ; and how maidens, who make ;i pilgrimage to this sacred well and dip their veils into its wave vv^th pure devotion, ensure themselves the utmost fdirity in marriage: thus the story ran. Amra, who appeared at first ab- stracted and inattentive, began to be atferted by the miMortnnrs and the love of the beautiful Seita ; and at the mention of the fountain and its virtues, she lifted her eyes with an expression of eager inter- est, and met those of Govinda fixed upon her. She uttered a faint cry, and threw herself into the arms of Gautami. He hastened to deliver the commands of his preceptor, and then Amra, recovering her self-possession, threw her veil round her, arose, and followed him to her father's presence. As they drew near together, the old man looked from one to the other. Perhaps his heart, though dead to all human passions, felt at that moment a touch of pity for the youthful, lovely, and loving pair who stood before him; but his look was calm, cold, and serene, as usual. AMBA. 105 « Draw near, my son/' he said ; " and thou, my beloved daughter, approach, and listen to the will of your father. The time is come, when we must make ready all things for the arrival of the wise and honoured Adhar. My (laughter, let those pious ceremonies, with which virtuous women prepare themselves ere they enter the dwell- ing of their husband, be duly performed : and do thou Govinda, son of my choice, set my household in order, that all may be in readiness to receive with honour the bridegroom, who comes to claim his be- trothed. To-morrow we will sacrifice to Ganesa, who is the guardian of travellers : this night must be given to penance and holy medita- tion. Amra, retire : and thou, Govinda, take up that faggot of Tulsi-wood, with the rice and the flowers for the evening oblation, and follow me to the temple." So saying, the old man turned away hastily ; and without looking back, pursued his path through the sacred grove. Alas for those he had left behind ! Govinda remained silent and motionless. Amra would have obeyed her father, but her limbs refused their office. She trembled — she was sinking : she timidly looked up to Govinda as if for support ; his arms were extended to receive her : she fell upon his neck, and wept unrestrained tears. He held her to his bosom as though he would have folded her into his inmost heart, and hidden her there for ever. He murmured passionate words of transport and fondness in her ear. He drew aside her veil from her pale brow, and ventured to print a kiss upon her closed eyelids. " To night," he whispered, " in the grove of mangoes by the river's bank ! " She answered only by a mute ca- ress ; and then, supporting her steps to her own apartments, he resigned her to the arms of her attendants, and hastened after his preceptor. He forgot, however, the materials for the evening sacri- fice, and in consequence not only had to suffer a severe rebuke from the old priest, but the infliction of a penance extraordinary, which detained him in the presence of his preceptor till the night was far advanced. At length, however, Sarma retired to holy meditation and mental abstraction, and Govinda was dismissed. He had hitherto maintained, with habitual and determined self- command, that calm, subdued exterior., which becomes a pupil in the presence of his religious teacher; but no sooner had he crossed the threshold, and found himself alone breathing the free night air of heaven, than the smothered passions burst forth. He paused for one instant to anathematise in his soul the Sastras and their contents, the gods and "their temples, the priests and the sacrifices ; the futile ceremonies and profitless, suffering to which his life was abandoned, VOL. in. — 1834. p 106 AMRA. and the cruel policy to which he had been made an unwilling victim. Then he thought of Amra, and all things connected with her chan- ged their aspect. In another moment he was beneath the shadow of the mangoes, on the river's brink. He looked round, Amra was not there: he listened, there was no sound. The grass bore marks of having been recently pressed, and still its perfume floated on the air. A few flowers were scattered round, fresh gathered, and glittering with dew. Govinda wrung his hands in despair, and flung himself upon the bank, where a month before they had sat together. On the very spot where Amra had reclined, he perceived a lotos leaf and a palasa flower laid together. Upon the lotos leaf he could perceive written, with a thorn or some sharp point, the word AMRA; and the crimson palasa buds were sacred to the dead. It was sufficient: he thrust the leaf and the flowers into his bosom ; and, " swift as the sparkle of a glancing star/' he flew along the path which led to the garden sepulchre. The mother of Amra had died in giving birth to her only child. She was, young, beautiful and virtuous; and had lived happily with her husband notwithstanding the extraordinary disparity of age. The pride and stoicism of his caste would not allow him to betray any violence of grief, or show his affection for the dead, otherwise than by raising to her memory a beautiful tomb. It consisted of four light pillars, richly and grotesquely carved, supporting a point- ed cupola, beneath which was an altar for oblations : the whole was overlaid with brilliant white stucco, and glittered through the gloom. A flight of steps led up to this edifice : upon the highest step, and at the foot of the altar, Amra was seated alone and weeping — " Love — O love ! what have I to do with thee ? How sinks the heart, how trembles the hand as it approaches the forbidden theme 1 Of all the gifts the gods have sent upon the earth thou most precious — yet ever most fatal ! As serpents dwell among the odorous boughs of the sandal tree, and alligators in the thrice sacred waters of the Ganges, so all that is sweetest, holiest, dearest upon earth, is mixed up with sin, and pain, and misery, and evil ! Thus hath it been ordained from the beginning ; and the love that hath never mourned, is not love." I low sweet, yet how terrible, were the moments that succeeded ! While Govinda, with fervid eloquence, poured out his whole soul at her feet, Amra alternately melted with tenderness, or shrunk with sensitive alarm. When he darkly intimated the irresistible power he possessed to overcome all obstacles to their union — when he AMRA. 107 spoke with certainty of the time when she should be his, spite of the world and men — when he described the glorious height to which his love would elevate her — the delights and the treasures he would lavish around her, she, indeed, understood not his words ; yet, with all a woman's trusting faith in him she loves, she hung upon his accents — listened, and believed. The high and passionate energy, with which his spirit, so long pent up and crushed within him, now revealed itself; the consciousness of his own power, the knowledge that he was beloved, lent such a new and strange expression to his whole aspect, and touched his fine form and features with such a proud and sparkling beauty, that Amra looked up at him with a mixture of astonishment, admiration, and deep love, not wholly un- mingled with fear; almost believing that she gazed upon some more than mortal lover, upon one of those bright genii, who inhabit the lower heaven, and have been known in the old time to leave their celestial haunts for love of the earth-born daughters of beauty. Amra did not speak, but Govinda felt his power. He saw his advantage, and, with the instinctive subtlety of his sex, he pursued it. He sighed, he wept, he implored, he upbraided. Amra, over- powered by his emotion and her own, had turned away her head, and embraced one of the pillars of her mother's tomb, as if for pro- tection. In accents of the most plaintive tenderness she entreated him to leave her — to spare her — and even while she spoke her arm relaxed its hold, and she was yielding to the gentle force with which he endeavoured to draw her away ; when at this moment, so dan- gerous to both, a startling sound was heard — a rustling among the bushes, and then a soft, low whistle. Govinda started up at the well-known signal, and saw the head of the mute appearing just above the altar. His turban, being green, was undistinguishable against the leafy back ground ; and his small black eyes glanced and glittered like those of a snake. Govinda would willingly Jiave an- nihilated him at that moment. He made a gesture of angry impa- tience, and motioned him to retire ; but Sahib stood still, shook his hand with a threatening expression, and made signs, that he must instantly follow him. Amra meantime, who had neither seen nor heard any thing, began to suspect that Govinda was communing with some invisible spirit; she clung to him in terror, and endeavoured to recall his attention to herself by the most tender and soothing words and caresses. After some time he succeeded in calming her fears ; and with a thousand promises of quick return, he at length tore himself away, and follow- ed through the thicket the form of Sahib, who glided like a shadow before hirn. To be concluded in our next, 108 FUNEREAL SKETCHES, No. XIV, THE INFANT'S TOMB. Is it the dew on yonder stone That day's young beams are shining on ? Nay — but here with morning's ray Came there one to weep and pray, One with whom none other's tear Drops upon her infant's bier : — One who travailed, shame betide, Ere the Church had called her bride — Came to snatch a short relief From her solitude of grief. HE, who — holy legends tell — Shrived the woman at the well, HE be with her, undefined, With the mother and her child. Cease, fond mourner, why complain? For a child to die is gain : Hardly nature owned it thine When the angel called, " Resign I" Scarcely pillowed on thy breast When away to be at rest ; But the heaving of a wave Twixt its cradle and the grave, Cease, young mother, why complain ? For a child to die is gain. When its spirit, yet with thee, Only fluttered to be free ; Then the hour to weep and fast. Ere a living soul had passed : Now the dead no longer mourn Passed the irrevocable bourne ; Now the gushing tear-drop dry It was good the child should die. No. XV.— ONE OF THE DISPERSED. I saw him range o'er earth's wide space, A stranger in each land, That no where found his resting place In camp, or court, or strand. He moved midst those of martial mien, Yet not in arms as they ; A figure /'/?, not of, the scene Of war and war's array. FUNEREAL SKETCHES. 109 But there he stood with searching eye, Bent keenly on their files, Who thought they knew him — him a spy, And death within his smiles. I found the same in other days, His features now the sign, His altered garb no more displays The Jewish Gabardine. Yet the same eager glance was bent On twelve, of other creed Than his, the traitor's, though they'd learnt Of him and of his deed. Once more elapsed the course of years, With lapse of joy and pain, And lo ! that man of hopes and fears He crossed me once again : Apart as heretofore — though one In lineaments like his Had made the convicts7 floating den His paradise of bliss ; — Changed yet not changed, for, still apart, In nought as they he felt, Save when it chafed, as on his heart, The felon's iron belt. Apart yet not alone : his clan, Themselves an outcast race, Had thrust him from them, and their ban Left him no hiding place; Save where one Hebrew maiden's breast Was his asylum still, Save where by her his place of rest Stood fixed as Sion's hill. For him the Hebrew maiden's prayer, In one unvarying tone, Went up to heaven, not unheard there, Before th' Eternal's throne. The changeling heart let others court — Lord, shrive this thought of mine — ;Tis truth to bow through ill report At our paternal shrine. Eos. 110 BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS, No. IT. MY DEAR EDITOR, — In answer to the correspondent who, you tell me, doubts my veracity in stating that I carried home four dozen offish, each above three pounds weight, and who asserts that not a fishing basket in Plymouth would hold such a quantity ; I submit the following reply : that /also believe there is not a fish- ing basket, in Plymouth, of such goodly size ; and that, if he continue to doubt the capacity of my piscatory receptacle, I will undertake, after doubling him up into a compact bulk and strapping his limbs neatly together, to stow him into the bottom of my basket, and find room for four dozen of fish on the top of him : but to change the theme. I assure you, on the word of a fisherman, that I mean to get married some day and therefore hope you \\ill allow me to say a word or two, in the spirit of Christian kindness, to the " blessed" bachelor who favored you with a paper,* on the felicity enjoyed by himself and his bretheren of the solitary bed-place. In the first place, I would most humbly ask him why he should fix his clenched fists on his hips and become red with passion, like a Billingsgate virago, whilst he showers forth abusive epithets on the writer whose opinions he calls in question : when at the same time he might effect his purpose much better by a tem- perate demeanour and a calm train of argument? does he really suppose that discussion cannot be carried on without calling names, or that it is needful for him to designate his unconscious opponent as an " audacious scribbler," and his writing as " wretched absurdity and falsehood," "quagmire of absurdity and falsehood," " strange nonsense," " absurd and untrue" &c. &c. It appears to me that the abused writer and the " blessed" bachelor are much upon a par ; the one takes an extreme case among bachelors, the other an extreme case among married men, and this being evident, I think * No. 7, Vol. II. Ed. BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. Ill the latter is as much entitled to the polite pronomen of "audacious scribbler" as the former. It is very possible that the " honorable bachelors in the kingdom" would mend their steps to get out of a shower of rain (I should not, though, if the fish rose well) — that they would lift their hats to the young la- dies (I would) — and that they would talk perfectly demurely and sedately to their washerwomen or cham- bermaids (I might;) — these three postulates I will grant to the " blessed" bachelor : in return I do not perceive how he can, conscientiously, expect us to swal- low his assertions touching the general fate of married men, except it be cum grano salis. It may chance that bricklayers secretaries, journeymen shoemakers, coal heavers, Welch curates &c. do get frequent " blow- ings up" from their better halves, have to " rock the cradle" peel the onions and undergo many similar " de- lights ;" but surely if we are to consider these matters as arguments against matrimony, we may just as well enter our protest against wearing coats, because we have occasionally noticed one of the illagent pisanthry of the sister isle, arrayed in a garment displaying forty or fifty patches, and twice that number of breaches. I have lately been sojourning in a wild and unculti- vated district, and, in my rural rambles, have frequently visited the home of the poor man ; I must admit that, in two instances, the benedicts seldom returned to their dwellings without finding the " brats" ready to squall, and the wife prepared to scold ; as well as to use the " drumsticks" with uncommon vigour ; but I must also confess that these wights had an amazing predilection for distilled waters, and seldom considered it needful that any portion of their earnings should be appropria- ted to the purchase of food and clothing for their fa- milies. However, in most instances that have fallen under my cognizance, it always seemed that the poor man did return with gladness to his home, where he met with a kind welcome from his wife, and greetings of gladness from his children • poverty had not blunted 112 BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. in him those tender feelings of humanity which, as yet, have no place in the heart of your bachelor ; he could find in the companion of his humble abode an affection- ate friend, a consoling partner, and a thrifty manager ; and he could look upon his children, not as burdens, which must of necessity be borne, nor as unwelcome drawbacks upon his scanty means, but as beings on whom he might expend some of the kindliest feelings of our nature, and in whose little words and looks of love he might find many a gleam of happiness to gladden his way in life. Among the better ranks of people, I do not see that it is incumbent on the good man of the house to " rock the cradle," unless he have a peculiar penchant there- for, and, if so, he has as much right to enjoy himself that way, as the "blessed" bachelor with his " glorious thought gilding every part of his mental fabric." Furthermore, I do not believe that ladies who have been accustomed to move in any respectable sphere of society, will "importune" and "frequently scold" their husbands for the mere sake of scolding — there may be a few exceptions, but these prove the rule — but supposing that a young damsel of gentle blood should bestow upon her liege lord a sound rating for the perpetration of some peccadillo, he ought to thank his stars that he has, in her, a friend sincere enough to warn him from wandering in naughty ways : such scold- ings as this I should class among the blessings of ma- trimony. With reference to the cleansing of a sanctum, I do not suppose that any reasonable wife, who respects or regards her husband would disarrange his manuscripts for the sake of proving herself to be a notable woman, nor do I apprehend that the English mode of cleansing a carpet is effected by " deluging it with water." If any good man be fool enough to keep in his house such a bevy of " destructionists" as will enter his study, and annihilate his papers in his absence, then I would by all means strenuously recommend him, when not in a studious mood, to keep the door locked, and treasure up the key in his breeches' pocket. BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. 113 But the "blessed" bachelor dislikes " brats"— at least he intimates it — shame upon him ! Surely that man must be callous to the core who cannot participate in the innocent raptures of childhood ; who cannot con- sent to lose sight of the stern reality of mature life in contemplating the open-hearted simplicity of its dawn ; who will not venture to give a little prattler a " ride o' cock horse" on his knee, lest it might endow him with a moist remembrancer of its prowess. If the bachelor's antipathy to children be generated by the consideration that they do not afford unmixed joy, and if he loathe matrimony because some sours are mingled with its sweets ; then what sublunary gratification will he pro- pose to us which is not darkened by many shadows. The idol of Ambition is not to be worshipped, with- out entailing on its votary many a heart-rending and humiliating pang ; nor is the " lore of lettered page" to be acquired without undergoing a train of head-aches and indigestions ; bear witness ye bilious-looking tem- plars and cramped-jointed, would-be-wrangler Cantabs. Would the bachelor seek unalloyed enjoyment in good feeding ? let him have the fear of arthritic torments before his eyes. Would he imbibe solace from the bottle ? let him beware of gallstones and a green-co- loured liver. Would he revel in the sunshine of " glo- rious thought" and marry his splendid ideas to immortal verse ? let him consider the wreck of mind which has overshadowed the latter days of some of our most ex- alted geniuses. But a truce to " glorious thoughts" commend me to a wife and three or four curly headed boys ; let them climb my knee, as many have taken the unrestrained liberty to do before ; let them daub my whiskers with bread and butter and slobber my cheeks with saliva ; let them variegate my breeches with little shoe-prints and search my pockets for halfpence : I'll enjoy myself in knowing that they are joyful and snap my fingers at all the " blessed" bachelors in Christendom. The bachelor says that " some of the greatest men that ever enriched the world by their splendid VOL. in. 1834. Q 114 TO SELINA. and invaluable discoveries were bachelors" now if he will be good enough to make out a list of all ba- chelors, from the time of William the Conqueror down- wards, who have done any thing great in literature, science or art for the intellectual advancement or moral improvement of their species, I will undertake to find one married man and one married woman for each in- dividual in his list equally entitled to high rank in art, science or literature, and the last pair in my schedule shall be Mrs. Somerville and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. In the notices to Correspondents in one of your num- bers it is stated that the " bachelor" is a married man and has his quiver full of young ones ; this I take to be a bit of a bounce of your own, although I shrewdly suspect that he would have no objection to the holy bonds of matrimony and would not quarrel with the honours of paternity ; indeed I fancy that he is paying his addresses to some young lady at present, whom he propably had the misfortune to offend one evening, by spilling a dish of tea on her frock, when he wanted to whisper something pretty into her ear, and which so discomposed the fair one that she refused the custom- ary kiss at parting — and the bachelor full of choler hied to his writing desk and penned the paper on his " Blessedness" which appeared in your Museum. I dare say, now — after all — he would have no ob- jection to say with me that he who does not know how to appreciate woman is UNWORTHY OF BEING THE SON OF A WOMAN. THEOBALD. Exmoor. TO SELINA. The brightest passage of life's prime is o'er, The fairest prospect of its day-spring fled ; And Memory, in her still and thoughtful hour, Will mourn them, like a weeper o'er the dead. NINE YEARS OF AN ACTOR'S LIFE. 115 We gazed together upon Passion's scroll, Whose words are writ in fire, while every line Reflected burning lustre on my soul ; Yet cold and calm, as starlight, beamed on thine. My love for thee could live, although the tide Of time brought change and sorrow in its way ; It could exist unaltered, though 'twere tried By pain's excess — by desolation's sway. Yet thine — how soon — has faded, withered : Why ? Will one, of more devoted feeling, show A deeper love — a kinder sympathy — More singleness of heart than mine ? Ah no. Yet though another on thy gentle breast May find the fondness which is lost to me And with thy young heart's gentleness be blest I cannot curse him, while I think on thee. In radiant vision — in consoling dream Thine image will beguile the long, lone night, And, though a spirit visitor, may seem More than the shadow of our past delight. LEON. Devonshire Place. NINE YEARS OF AN ACTOR'S LIFE, BY ROBERT DYER I Longman, London; Nettleton, Plymouth. Svo. pp. 241. THE author states that a love of declamation was one of his earliest tendencies, and that whilst yet a lit- tle boy he made extemporaneous speeches about blood and death and his heart ; always finishing by stabbing himself with a butcher's steel to the great admiration of his fellow playmates : this early love of the histronic art induced him, on leaving school to become a mem- ber of an amateur company, a circumstance which we will allow him to detail in his own words, especially as it is accompanied by some remarks on private theatri- 116 NINE YEARS OF AN ACTOR?S LIFE. cals which are, in our opinion, deserving of serious con- sideration. " Returned from school, I had now many opportunities of visiting the Theatre, much, by the way, against the wishes of my friends ; and soon, on paying the sum of 15s. entrance, I became an acting member of the Stonehouse Amateur Company, on the Coal Quay ! — Here, let me protest against the existence of such societies, for they are vicious in their construction, and fatal in their consequence. The only dishonest action I ever in my life committed was to sup- port my expences in a private theatre. — A member of this very com- pany, a corporal in the. Marines, (you cannot be select in mixed society) was broken to the ranks, tied up to the halberts, and flogged. I saw him faint under the torture, and all for some peculation in the Pay Office, to enable him to meet his expences. — A young man of limited means cannot be conscientiously honest in a private theatre. He has to pay his entrance fee — his weekly subscription — for his books — his stage dresses : but here the evil does not end, for after the play it is usual to adjourn to some tavern, and there sip ale and flattery until the amateur is intoxicated by the strength of the one, and the sweets of the other. Granting, however, that a young man's pecuniary resources are equal to his expenditure, if he be engaged in business he cannot be just to his employer; for time is necessary for study, and as time is his master's wealth, if he robs him of this. he may as well pick his master's pocket. Besides there are strong and irresistible temptations to vice in the female society of a private theatre ; and though I know many men who have passed unscathed J do not know one amateur lady who has borne an unblemished re- putation. I would advise all young persons to shun even the atmosphere of a private theatre, for it will breed in them a love of idle pleasure, and, unless Fortune favour them, unfit them for the discharge of their duties as respectable men. Unfortunately, there is an infatua- tion in theatricals, against which reason and parental authority have no force; and I know no way of checking a tendency of this baneful nature, other than by calling in the power of the magistracy to sup- press the came. It is strange, that not one of my Coal Quay asso- ciates made the stage a profession." From being an amateur Mr. Dyer in due time became a paid performer and, from the evidence which his book contains, was exceedingly successful as a provincial performer, and was acknowledged to display much tul- 117 entin the parts which he had, by study, made his own ; while at the same time the integrity and honesty of his conduct secured him the friendship and patronage of many respectable and noble individuals. He made one attempt to become a candidate on the London boards in which he failed for want of interest. " Kenneth immediately went down to Drury Lane, and fixed an interview with Price and Cooper, for the next day. Accident pre- vented my being in time, and a message was left requesting my presence the following day ; when we met, and I went through the mockery of a rehearsal in a scene of Gambia, and a scene of Macbeth, with Mr. Cooper for my Zelinda, and Lady Macbeth, and the lessee, my agent, an under prompter, and two or three idlers, as my judges. It has been a matter of wonder to me ever since, how I submitted to this humiliation ; for I had resisted the attempt to appoint another time for our meeting, by giving them the alternative of seeing me then, or not at all ; and I can only account for it by an indifference as to the issue, when I perceived the luke-warmness of my reception. Price, if he did not understand my apathy, must have thought me a vile impostor. Cooper, on conducting me through the intricacies of the scenery, said ' I am afraid you will not find your way out.1 t Oh,' I replied, ' the only difficulty here is to find the way in.9 An acute friend ever advised against my going to London, until my services were wanted; and perhaps, had I delay- ed, advantageous terms might have been made, for my reputation evidently gained me the interview with Price at my own time; when (on the authority of my agent) many actors, with powerful recommendations, had waited for months, and were still waiting to get speech with him. On the whole, I rejoice I was not wanted. I am happy that my kinder fortune had better things in store for me, than a collision with the interests of London actors, and a participa- tion in the debaucheries of London theatres. My limited stay in town, and hurried visits to the theatres, unfit me for a critical diss- ertation on metropolitan acting; but my impressions were by no means favourable, as I looked in vain for a mediocrity of talent amongst the subordinates ; and, without efficient aid from them, the efforts of the most eminent lost half their power. Except in the magnificence of the houses, the splendour of dress and decorations, and the transcendent merit of two or three in each line of the drama, London theatricals are infinitely inferior to provincial ; and I assert, without fear of contradiction, that the inferior members of a barn arr 118 NINE YEARS OF AN ACTOR?S LIFE. better than their fellows in the minor theatres ; and the secondaries of the major are excelled by those of Bath, Dublin, &c." Mr. Dyer married, and in the course of time had an increasing family ; but in his profession he found that children were questionable blessings. " Children are not blessings to actors ; for accustomed to see their parents in fictitious characters, their young minds, unable to distin- guish between the real and assumed, become suspicious of deceit ; and confidence once destroyed, affection cannot be felt. Before rea- son can eradicate the impressions of childhood, parent and child are thrown on the dangerous field of professional rivalry, where jealously ever prevents a ' union of hearts.' I have observed that the children of low comedians entertain little or no respect for their fathers. My children's visits to the theatre were very rare; and those were cur- tailed after my eldest boy remarked on my Macaire, ' I don't love my father now — he is a murderer ! ' The son of a particular friend of mine saw me in Massinger's Luke ; and on his return home he said, with great earnestness, ' Papa, I wonder you like that Mr. Dyer, he is such a hypocrite ! ' ' Children are a poor man's riches,' says the proverb ; but they are not an actor's, not even when they are employed as benefit auxiliaries ; for the public may be fashioned, or talked, or surprized, but never paraded, into charity. I knew an actor whose numerous progeny entirely filled the drnnmtis person * \cit 1 1 is genius in the composition of his speech. We regret that our limits will not admit of our even ulain l!ie remainder of tins very interest in- 1< •< fire. JANUARY 23RD. — Mr. BAUM-, O// Mo/,,1 The lecturer defined Moral Philosophy as the popular name under which is comprehended the ,SV /«•//< v and Art of morals or morality. He subsequently stated that, at different times and by different authors, several different origins had l>een assigned to moral obligation, all of which were included in one or other of the following positions. I. Moral obligation results from the existence of a moral sense in man. II. Moral obligation proceeds from a specific difference in the essential qualities of human actions. III. Moral obligation is the consequence only of a Superior Will. IV. Moral obligation is the consequence of no one of the above named causes, but of combinations of any two of them, or of the three together. Thus there are seven causes assigned for the existence of moral obligation. In proceeding to the examination of these propositions, the lectu- rer observed that it was necessary to enquire into the existence of the moral sense : after a long train of argument he gave it as his opinion that the doctrine of the existence of a moral sense could not be sus- tained, and that, consequently, all arguments founded on its exist- ence must be fallacious ; therefore four of the CAUSES above mention- ed required no further consideration, because the moral sense is, at least, an clement in them. The remaining causes are, I. a specific PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 127 difference in the essential qualities of human actions ; II. a superior Will; III. the two together. The lecturer then quoted the arguments of Bayle, in favor of the first of these three, and adduced some reasons for considering them inefficient; and observed, the position then that moral obligation results from the existence of natural specific differences of human actions, or the perception of such differences, is unestablished. He then proceeded to prove that the existence of natural specific differ- ence in the essential qualities of human actions, in conjunction with the Superior Will, is necessary to account for moral obligation. Mr. Barnes quoted the following hypothesis of Locke, " Good and evil are nothing but pleasure and pain, or that which occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil then is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law, whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and power of the law maker; which good and evil, pleasure or pain attending our observance or breach of the law, by the decree of the law maker, is that we call reward and punish- ment; of these laws there are three species, viz., the Divine law, having influence here or hereafter ; Civil law, having forcible influ- ence in this life ; and the law of Opinion, with its sanction of fame or infamy ." This hypothesis was considered by the lecturer as sufficient to account for the existence of moral impressions in all cases in which such impressions are found to exist : he further showed that it accounted for the variation in men's notions of right and wrong, with regard to the same action ; — as well as for the dif- ferent moral impressions, produced in different individuals, amongst ourselves, for the forgiveness of an insult. He concluded his paper to the following effect. The specific moral qualities of actions are the relations of their specific natural qualities and relations to the laws of the Divine Will. Before then a knowledge of the specific moral qualities of actions can be attained, their specific natural qualities and relations must be carefully observed. These specific natural qualities and relations being observed, it still remains to obtain at least some general Divine law, before the specific moral qualities can be known ; since these latter are the relations between such specific natural qualities and relations and such law. The lecturer intimated that the induction necessary to this, should be the subject of another lecture. 128 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. JANUARY 30TH. — Mr. J. PRIDEAUX, On Linguistics. The lecturer stated that he was unable to extend beyond the divi- sions of Asia and Europe, without too far encroaching on the time allotted for discussion. He likewise stated that the facts contained in his paper were chiefly drawn from the Atlas Ethnographique of Balbi; whose classification was followed throughout. He then proceeded to say that the great divisions are, Asiatic Languages European Languages. \ . Semitic, 1 . Basque and Celtic, 2. Caucasian, 2. Greco Latin, 3. Persic, 3. Germanic, 4. Indian, 4. Sclavonic, 5. Trans-Gangetic, 5. Ouralian. 6. Tartar. These are again subdivided into branches, Type, the Arabic. Type, Ancient Arme- nian. Type, Persian. Type, Sanscrit Type, Chinese. The Semitic into Hebrew, Syriac, Medic, Arabic, and Abyssinian. ( ;m< ;isi;m Georgian, Armenian, Les- ghian, Mizdjeghi, Circass- ian, and Abassan. Persic, all one family, Indian, also one family, Trans-Gangetic, Thibedan, Indo-Chinese, Chinese, Corean, Japan CM-. Siberian, all illiterate, passed over. Basque, only a single language. Celtic, Gaelic, and Kymric. Greco-Latin, Thraco-Illyrian, Hellenic- Greek, Italic. Germanic, Teutonic, Saxon, Scandina- vian, Anglo-Britannic. Sclavonic, Russian, Polish, Lithuan- ian. Ouralian, mostly illiterate, In conclusion the lecturer gave a succinct notice of the radical and grammatical relations; the leading literary distinctions, and the graphic characters of each subdivision : with a few observations on the ancient Cornish language; and some conjecture respecting the great Indo-Germanic chain. Type, Gaelic. Type, Hellenic. Type, Meso-Gothic. Type, Russian. Type, Hungarian. PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 129 FEBRUARY CTH. — Mr. W. R. BENNETT, On Logic. In this paper a distinction was first drawn between Logic as a Science and an Art. It was shown that under Logic as a science is comprehended an examination of those unerring principles that must and do guide us in every exercise of sound reasoning in any depart- ment of knowledge : but that which is termed the art of logic, is little more than an arbitrary and tedious assemblage of rules, almost if not altogether unpracticable, whereby it is proposed to instruct us how to reason aright, and how to ascertain the correctness of any argumentative process. A slight sketch was drawn of the history of logic, with especial reference to the labours of the ancient Greek sophists whose peculiar habits and high intellectual refinement, ge- nerated that passion for disputation which so eminently characterised them as a people. Zeno was spoken of as the earliest systematic writer on the subject, and as the author of a plan by which an anta- gonist might be entrapped into admissions of the truth of some ap- parently obvious propositions which would be eventually discovered to involve a palpable absurdity. How far his countrymen acted on his suggestions, and amused each other with specimens of their skill in learned subtleties and acute deceptions we have recorded facts too notorious to need illustration from him : but it was evident that the modern art of wrangling, which originally emanated from our Universities, and for a considerable time was allowed to throw an air of disgraceful pedantry over their transactions, owed its exis- tence to the venerable treatise referred to, in connexion with that specious instrument of perversion and error, the SYLLOGISM, which Aristotle had placed in their hands. The idea of constructing an art by which it was pretended all the powers of the mind might be properly directed, had no doubt induced many excellent and talented individuals to devote themselves to the cultivation of logic; yet after all their researches and well-intended exertions, there was an extraordinary discrepancy in their estimates of the real province and applicability of the system they had been ultimately enabled to devise. This was proved by numerous quo- tations from the various authors who have written on the subject, from the earliest period even down to our own times ; but the lec- turer, wishing to give the society the fairest and most impartial view of the merits of the art, would direct their attention principally to what he believed to be the latest authority, the work of Archbishop Whately. He observed that, throughout the whole course of that book, it was insisted that logic is concerned only about expression, and that its chief object is to employ language properly for the pur- VOL. in. — 1834. s 130 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. pose of reasoning. To accomplish this desideratum it was thought necessary that all accurate reasoners should enter into certain meta- physical investigations, relative to the theory of simple and complex ideas, in order to become acquainted with the laws which regulate their natural association and multifarious combinations, as an indis- pensable preliminary to the right use of those conventional terms by which all ideas are arbitrarily denoted. A complete analysis must therefore be made of the operations of the understanding, as it pro- gresses from mere perception, to the exercise of judgment, and the more extended efforts of ratiocination : it must be ascertained by what steps the mind is led on by abstraction and generalization, to apprehend and classify different objects as they present themselves to its notice : and thus we shall be prepared, it is affirmed, to enter into a just appreciation of the value and adequacy of a specific mode of arranging our own thoughts in due order, and of educing therefrom infallible conclusions. The lecturer then proceeded to exhibit the general outlines of this plan, and, in a few of its more striking features, to enter somewhat into detail. He explained the celebrated doctrines of the CATAGOUIES, or PREDICAMENTS, invented by Archytas, for the purpose of reducing all possible phenomena under distinct heads, that we might thereby readily perceive their nature and mutual relation. From the arbitrary assumption of these divisions, their number was of course indefinite, but it was thought convenient by the early logicians to limit them to ten : their disci- ples, however, have presumed to amend, curtail, or enlarge them, to such a degree, that the whole scheme is in danger of falling into contempt. The next point requiring illustration was the distribution of propositions into singular and universal : and here, though it admitted that the leading distinctions are based on nature and truth, still it was objected that the endless subdivisions according to quan- tity, quality, particular, indefinite, affirmative, negative, conditional, disjunctive, exclusive, exceptive, comparative, desitive, hypothetical, were in many cases artificial, and in most perplexing and useless. Not- withstanding the unfavourable opinion entertained by the Lecturer in reference to these diverging ramifications, he felt it his duty to show the manner in which they are imagined to be rendered available; and he therefore displayed the logician's diagram of CONVERSION, which is supposed to afford a practical test for proving the truth or falsity of of any given proposition; leaving his hearers to judge for themselves how lucidly it was calculated to effect the end for which it was designed. Having now introduced a regularly constructed SYLLO- PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 131 GISM, and explained the parts of which it should properly consist, he proceeded to develope the system of mode and figure, of which there are said to be no less than 64 varieties ; though happily for Tyros in this delectable art, only 19 are preserved, in the present day, to exercise their patience and skill : and the lecturer drew the attention of the society to certain mnemonic lines, composed of words embodying the essential distinctions between each mode, by means of which, it is asserted, all arguments may be reduced to the simplest possible form required by Aristotle's fundamental axiom, "Dictum de omni et nullo/' Many an amusing " exempli gratia" was brought forward to elucidate this interesting process; and the lecturer then advanced another stage in this critical survey of the subject, to consider the treatment of that important branch of logic entitled the doctrine of fallacies. Notice was taken of the sophism homonymia or quibble, in which a term is used equivocally ; the sophism of amphibolia or ambiguity; the fallacia accidentis; the ignoratio elenchi ; the petitio principii; the fallacia consequentis ; the non causa, pro causa ; — and especial allusion was made to the argumentum ad hominem, very frequently had recourse to by so- phists when foiled in their attack on the argumentum ad rem. Having drawn this brief summary of the logical art, the lecturer contended that the whole fabric was cumbrous, and utterly unsuited to practical purposes; while its use affords equal advantages to truth and error, since falsehood may lie, and often is, couched under the syllogistic form ; and unless every one is supposed to be able to discriminate the true syllogism from the counterfeit, what, he would ask, is gained by investing argument in such meretricious trappings ? He complained moreover that past experience had demonstrated the injurious tendency of this study, by producing a series of sceptics, dogmatics, and cavillers, whose powers were devoted to the propa- gation of sentiments extremely mischievous in a moral point of view; and as he believed its influence was calculated to vitiate a candid disposition, to imbue the character with a carping and unsa- tisfied temper, and to excite a love of victory more powerful than that of truth, he should be glad to see its expulsion from every seat of learning, and to know it was consigned to the guardianship of those diplomatic aspirants whose spirit needed to be set on edge for designing subtile purposes. If a substitute were demanded that should yield all that the art of logic could really boast of utility, unalloyed with the evils in question, and at the same time furnish the most perfect praxis of logic as a science, he was at no loss to produce one, and the regulations of some of our most erudite colle- 132 METHOD OF RENDERING GLASS OPAQUE. ges attested the fitness of what he would recommend. It was a course of study by which the mind might be formed to reason closely and in a train on the most unquestionable principles : that would habituate the understanding to the contemplation of truth, until it should insensibly contract a deep-rooted veneration for it ; and afford the rational faculties so vigorous an exercise as would qualify the student to transfer his attention to any other department of philosophy, and to range with ease over the most difficult sub- jects of mental research. He should be anticipated in naming the Elements of Mathematics, where in a single proposition there are as many steps of pure reasoning as could be traced throughout a volume of many professed argumentative writers. No one would of course imagine that he contended for the necessity of making all men profound mathematicians, but that they should be early initia- ted into, and completely familiarised with, the method of reasoning pursued in Euclid's demonstrations. METHOD OF RENDERING GLASS OPAQUE. A correspondent, at page 27, vol. III., of the Museum, enquires the mode of rendering glass opaque. There are several ways of doing this : First, take a piece of flat copper, and a little sand or fine emery made into a very thin paste with water, and with this rub over the glass with a circular motion of the hand ; this will, in a short time, destroy the polish of the surface : instead of copper a piece of Yorkshire frit may be used, but I prefer the former, as it holds the sand better. 2ndly, In the Artists' Arcanum the following receipt is given : — Pulverise a quantity of gum tragacanth, and having previously provi- ded white of eggs well beat and settled as thin as water, mix them together, and let them stand twenty-four hours, or until the gum is dissolved, and lay it on the glass with a soft brush. But the best mode is to employ a soft piece of Glaziers' putty, and with this, having first cleaned the glass, dab the surface all over ; allow this to harden twenty-four hours and repeat the process. An ornamental border or other device may then be traced with a sharp pointed piece of deal which will remove the putty and allow the polished surface of the glass to appear. J. N. H. Printed and Published by G. Hearder, Buckwell Street, Plymouth. THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, APRIL IST, 1834. No. 16.] PRICE^SIXPENCE. [VOL. III. ST. ANDREW'S CHURCH, PLYMOUTH. WE have already presented to our readers an interior view of St. Andrew's Church, and as an accompaniment we now present an exterior one. Few in this neigh- bourhood but are familiar with the latter ; and we are inclined to hope that a great number are equally so with the former. Little can or need be said further, as respects its late improvements, but that the renovation of this part of the edifice was not forgotten. The decayed portions of the walls having been removed ; new porches built ; new mu- rinions introduced into most of the windows ; and the whole of the walls newly pointed. This part of the con- tract was undertaken by Messrs. Shepheard and Oldrey. The general effect of this building is not unimposing though nowise remarkable for workmanship and execu- tion. A good view of it however, as is the case with too many of our sacred edifices, is prevented by the over- flowing state of the Church yard. We hope the " march of intellect " will sweep away that remnant of supersti- tion and prejudice, which induces us to make our churches into charnel houses. We have no certain record of the erection of the pre- sent building, but the foundation is of early origin, being mentioned in a survey of the Western Churches of this kingdom made, in 1291, by order of Pope Nicho- las. It was formerly connected with the buildings on the south, (and is believed to be so now by subterrane- ous passsages,) called the Abbey, this being the Church VOL. in. 1834. T 134 THE CONSUMPTIVE. to a Monastery. The Tower, which is bold and hand- some though plain, was built about the year 1440 ; and the style of the architecture of the Church will not ad- mit its being referred to a much earlier date, being that which prevailed in the reigns of Henries IV. V. and VI. and Edward IV. The different parts of the Church have been evidently built at different times, yet the intervals have not been such as to cause any marked difference in the style. We are indebted to the kindness of G. T. Page, Esq., Architect, for the drawing from which the annexed engraving is taken ; it was executed expressly for the Museum. FUNEREAL SKETCHES, No. XVI. THE CONSUMPTIVE. In that cottage where woodbines grow tangled and wild, Dwelt an honest old man with one dutiful child ; Fair and happy as love makes the innocent gay Was the pride of our hamlet — was sweet Mary Gray. But the angel of wrath laid his hand on her sire. Smote his fields with the blast, and his barns with the fire, And the wife of his bosom — at woe work the day When he wept o'er his motherless child, Mary Gray. The spirit within him was patient and strong, And bore with the trial — yet bore it not long; — With but one tie to life, life soon flitter'd away, And left thee alone with thy love, Mary Gray. And where was her lover ? far over the wave, He hath gained a rich bride in the Isles of the slave ; And they told he was faithless and reft the last stay From the life of the mourner — from poor Mary Gray. And the roses decline from her beautful cheek, Where that flash is but hectic, her soft voice grows weak ; And the death-watch above her at night seems to say, Make a grave by the willows for poor Mary Gray. 135 BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS, No. III. MR. EDITOR, — I find that your friend of the "fishing basket " is not contented to slip quietly into the " holy estate of matrimony, " without having a parting kick at a poor " Batchelor " who does not happen to be as fortunate as himself. And this he proposes to do " in the spirit of Christian kindness." But how does he set about this kind act ? why by comparing the " Bache- lor " to "a Billingsgate virago. " I do not doubt but that his description of the latter personage is quite correct, and I am willing to make every excuse for his having recourse to such a comparison, for what object can we suppose to be so familiar to the mind of & fisher- man, as a seller offish ? I am not surprised that the " fisherman " as he " means to get married " should look with a favourable eye on the~" blessedness " of that state into which he is about to enter; and should endeavour to knock down all the obstacles which others may attempt to throw in his way. But if he supposes that I intended to adduce " argu- ments against matrimony, " he is much mistaken. I endeavoured to show, indeed, that all bachelors are not such stupid, unsociable, indolent, selfish creatures as they had been represented by the author from whom I quoted. And this led me to point out some evils to which some married men are subject, but from which bachelors are free. But I will not attempt to destroy Theobald's delightful impression of the " blessedness " of the mar- riage state ; but will again say that " a man may live well with a very good wife ; " and I sincerely hope that Theobald's intended may prove to be one of this descrip- tion. And when he returns from his " rural rambles " " in a wild and uncultivated district, " sweating beneath the burden of his ponderous " piscatory receptacle " (or, in plainer English, ^pannier) containing his " four dozen of fish, each above three pounds weight, " may he meet with " a kind welcome from his wife, greetings of gladness from his children " and a good price for his fish from his old friend the " Billingsgate virago, " for 136 BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. all this I am sure he will richly deserve. But should his "young damsel of gentle blood/' bestow upon him a " sound rating," let him remember (for his lady will) that he has now pledged himself to bear all this quietly, and to " class " such " ratings " " among the bless- ings of matrimony. " Never may he have reason to lament the want of such " blessings " ! ! If Theobald will take the trouble to refer to my former paper, he will find that / did not furnish the " sanctum " with a " carpet. " This, however, he has kindly supplied, for the purpose of " deluging it with water, " by way of showing that I do not understand the English mode of house cleaning. Perhaps I need not tell him that it is not " every honourable bachelor in the kingdom " who is so " blessed " as to have a "carpet " on the floor of his " sanctum ; " but even in most houses in which there are carpets (except, perhaps, in Theo- bald's) I suppose they are sometimes removed in order that the " floor " may be " cleansed " if not " deluged " " with water. " What a happy knack friend Theobald has of drawing inferences to suit his own purpose. From my merely asking whether the " author" to whom I referred had never heard of " squalling brats" — not a very uncom- mon epithet, I believe — your fishing friend has inferred that I have an " antipathy to children." On the autho- rity of a Phrenologist, in addition to my own, I assure him that this is not the case. Some time ago, a friend, who had long studied the science of bumps, examined those which my pericranium presented ; and, if I mis- take not, he told me that I had one which indicated love to children. I can, only say that if there be not such a bump on the exterior, the " propensity " is certainly within. I cannot throw down my pen without thanking The- obald for his very good advice. I am almost disposed to give him a little'in return, but will leave this for his " young damsel of gentle blood." He will no doubt be more ready to attend to her advice than mine, especially if followed up by "a sound rating.'' GRANA WEAL'S GARLAND. 137 You will easily imagine that I was rather surprised, when I came to the last page of Theobald's letter, to find that he had seen your notice to correspondents on the cover of the " Museum" for August last, in which you had said (though he does not mention it) that ano- ther correspondent (" Benedict") who had sent you a reply to my paper, had " mistaken a jeu d 'esprit for a serious matter ;" and while reading Theobald's sage defence of the matrimonial condition, I fancied, of course, that he had fallen into the same error as your friend " Benedict ;" but he does not seem to place much reliance on what you say to your " correspondents," as he considers that the latter part of the notice referred to, contains " a bit of a bounce of your own." In this he may perhaps be nearer the truth than in many other things which he " shrewdly suspects. " But I leave you to settle the matter between yourselves ; although I cannot help fearing that you will " come off second best, " since he has probably, by this time, learnt to use the " matrimonial drumsticks. " A BACHELOR. GRANA WEAL'S GARLAND. LAMENTATION OF FIGHTING FITZGLRALD's GHOST. Taken down from the mouth of the Apparition, which may be seen any morning before sunrise in the Fifteen Acres. The Fifteen Acres is a large, open portion of the Phoenix Park, near Dublin ; used as a place of review for the king's troops ; and as a place of rendezvous, by gentlemen of susceptible feelings, in order to arrange little matters of etiquette in an honourable manner. I HI. Roger darling, who's for fighting 1 Ten pounds for a Papist's visage ! I'm his man sir — here's my card. D — O'Connell and the Pope ! None to answer my inviting 1 Oh, boys, if you stand such usage, Rather strange, and very hard. Every man deserves a rope. Can't a man get some diversion, Maurice ! Tom ! O' Gorman Mahon Some indulgence, any how ? Can you tamely this allow 1 Sink your rascally Coercion ! — Won't you box or clapperclaw one 1 — Any money for a row ! Any money for a row 1 II. IV. Men, I think, are all turned Quakers, Since I get such cold denial, Swaddlers, tailors, and what not — From these dirty dogs of Dan's, Here I'm on the Fifteen Acres ! Here goes for another trial — Who's to shoot me or be shot? Ten pounds for an Orangeman's None to answer, none to meet me 1 Heretic face, and curse King William ! Can I be in Ireland now ! Both, by Jove, are under cow : Monstrous shabby way to treat me — My eyes, how these Whigs must mill' em, ! Any money for a row ! Any money for a row ! From the Dublin University Magazine. 138 ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS ON WEST INDIAN SOCIETY, &c., No. III. NEITHER our law, commerce, nor literature has as yet flourished enough to support a press here. The ancient office of scribe still survives among us, and is occupied by our men of colour, who en- gross, indifferently, eulogies or pasquinades on their betters. We have a reading room, if indeed some half-dozen magazines and island newspapers, filed in a hot-house whither no one cares to resort, may be so termed : I nearly broke my leg in repairing thereto lately, by slipping through a pit-fall set, Duenna like, to confine their negro wenches from sleep-walking. But there is no Court Journal, Morn- ing Post or such like here. Otherwise I might now be reading in them that the Captain-gene- ral, here at present on his triennial visit, held a levee yesterday. One, whom his Excellency delighteth to honor as colonial aid-de- camp, presented each in his just grade, whether municipal, clerical, in law or medicine. We were all graciously received ; more so indeed than some bye-play among the governed might have deserved ; — although they have provided apartments for himself and suite. Among these are two fair dames from Bath, the governor's lady and her sister, come to star it. So far good ; the enormous rent paid for those wooden cages here, called houses, making the compliment a " pretty considerable one : " — but then they have managed to with- hold a mite of tribute money, not enough to defray the expences of this visit, by Mr. Treasurer's opportunely quitting the island. These petty annoyances proceed from private pique, and a zest in some " for anarchy and common weal ; " rather than any deliberate public acts; although our political state is seen in the absence of all means to coerce them. Surely the Tortolians have not forgotten Colonel Maxwell's liberality after the hurricane. I have been unable to join in any of the festivities, to which this high presence has given rise, from ill health. This is in my case the gradual effects of an over-heated atmosphere on the constitution, as the only attack of fever has been a very mild one. The influence of a torrid zone on me shews itself in general weakness a loss of appetite, with bilious feelings after fare ever so light. And then comes the attendant languor which inclines one to lounge all day with the feet at their true Creole elevation. For my part, I strove to parry this evil by exercise, going afloat with Last man on the lagoon, which set whole bunches of white teeth on the grin from out their sooty envelopes to see me at the oar. But it availed me not a whit. WEST INDIAN SOCIETY. 139 Then my diet was regulated ; I eschewed congo-pease, and ate chicken fed on cockroaches: I had too, like the Blunderhead family, the best advice and frequent consultations swallowing doctors stuff, a whole series of prescriptions, now consecutively, now again in a round robin, I have done every thing, in short, but exhaust the patience of my sweet nurse; whose story by the bye has been promised you. And what if there were no " bodies of light " shining for me over the Atlantic ? Well, well, but for the ravages of our sad climate, my pretty Creole girl were a bride long ago. Frances' betrothed had been chosen from a more worldly calling at home to expound Wesley's tenets among us ; and some how found his aspirations after heaven insensibly mingle with others towards this fair devotee. He died suddenly, even after her wedding garment had been prepared. They hold a canon over bachelor itinerants that is almost popish. That is, no allowance issues for adscititious sisters ; and these good men not being wontedly seized of lay income, a fiat for their support must come out before they can well put off celibacy. Now the time that, in such case, elapses before — as the license runs — " your desires may the more speedily obtain a good effect ;" is shocking enough, and yet by no means the worst of it. Only so many couples are allowed at each station, and thus love has to wait in tedious obeyance until some, for them, benign influence creates a vacancy. Jabez Bunting should look to this affair. In my notice of our party colored retainers, Miss Frances' abigail, and our groom were omitted. The first is a Meeytise girl of some twenty summers, whose fine grown figure, and handsome counte- nance— although it is spotted with that leprosy of the tropics, ele- phantiasis,— strangely contrast with the child's tone in which she utters her broken dialect. Jane's ordinary dress is the coarse gown in which our women of colour wrap themselves up, like so many nuns ; even their gayer attire is made in the same bad taste, and of white, the only hue unsuited to their complexions. At St. Thomas these females assume all the flauntings that become them. However she almost rivals her young mistress in patisserie, their mutual knack that way serving to confirm a tale of more solito affinities : but never mind, people should look to their own morality. Jane brought me one day a billet-doux, stolen by her from our house maid ; — this dark wench had fallen asleep while engaged in cleaning some articles of plate, and the letter, that some clever urchin had been reading for her, lay among them. It is from a black operative now at Saint Thomas. 140 WEST INDIAN SOCIETY. " Dear Catryn, Dare much fine house, and bera much ship here ; bera much fine girl too, but me lub Catryn all time. Buddy Smit say dat nigger Jock come see you : — me too pale wid lub : hope your heart like mine. You bery dear to George. Me work for one dollar by day here; no — cut dollar, him make five quart, I tink, in de Road. Buddy Smit bring you dis; he say me lub you too much Catryn. " This mild creature is as unassuming in her freedom as old Cudjoe is refractory and pugnacious in bondage. Cudjoe when his talents for the gong-gong and waits flourished, was a lacquey, and acquired in that service a passion for strong drink and disparted raiment that besets him still : he had an ague last month which almost drained my purse for rum, and now is striving to appropriate a worn coat of mine on the plea of church-going. The old varlet figured there yesterday in a new shirt, whose white collar glittered on its dusky ground like " the curse" under a midshipman's ear. But then Cud- joe is wont to neglect his charge, and a threat of sending hin to the cowkin on his owner's estate invariably stirs all the pride of soul within him. — " Him beast kick and bite buddy, like one debble, and den you say masha me ! masha bad beast, massa. Ki ! you tink him black driver flogga me, Eh." Our black imp is a sturdy indigenous shoot, that thrives, neglect him as you may. Does any, in avoiding one of the frequent puddles our streets abound with, happen to meet with a small bottle-bellied, naked rogue asleep on its margin, and souse him into it .' — The mother wades knee-deep down the beach, plunges her muddy brat thrice under water, and then leaves that general napkin, the sun, to its effect in drying him. One of these, an imp from from Messrs. Hill's prolific slave-yard, who has nearly acquired the height of a tipstaff, never fails on my passing him to wake up into a piteous moaning for black dogs : I should not heed his request so often but that one of our bucks in petting this especial young rascal, has brought him to swear most awfully on being refused. His enemies have laid a simi- lar charge at Last man's door, although in presence nothing can ex- ceed the fellow's mildness of speech. Eos. 141 A M R A . Continued and concluded from page 107. When they reached the accustomed spot, the mute leapt into the canoe, which he had made fast to the root of a mango-tree, and mo- tioning Govinda to follow him, he pushed from the shore, and rowed rapidly till they reached a tall, bare rock near the centre of the stream, beneath the dark shadow of which Sahib moored his little boat, out of the possible reach of human eye or ear. All had passed so quickly, that Govinda felt like one in a dream ; but now, awakening to a sense of his situation, he held out his hand for the expected letter from his brother, trembling to learn its import, upon which he felt that more than his life depended. Sahib, meanwhile, did not appear in haste to obey. At length, after a pause of breathless suspense, Govinda heard a low and well-remem- bered voice repeat an almost-forgotten name : " Faizi!" it said. " O Prophet of God ! my brother !" and he was clasped in the arms of Abul Fazil. After the first transports of recognition had subsided, Faizi (it is time to use his real name) sank from his brother's arms to his feet : he clasped his knees. " My brother I" he exclaimed, " what is now to be my fate ? You have not lightly assumed this disguise, and braved the danger of discovery ! You know all, and have come to save me — to bless me ? Is it not so ?" Abul Fazil could not see his brother's uplifted countenance, flush- ed with the hectic of feverish impatience, or his imploring eyes, that floated in tears ; but his tones were sufficiently expressive. " Poor boy ! " he said compassionately, " I should have forseen this. But calm these transports, my brother ! nothing is denied to the sultan's power, and nothing will he deny thee." " He knows all then ? " "All — and by his command am 1 come. I had feared, that my brother had sold his vowed obedience for the smile of a dark -eyed girl — what shall I say ? — I feared for his safety ! " " Oh, my brother ; there is no cause ! " " I know it — enough ! — I have seen and heard ! " Faizi covered his face with his hands. "If the sultan " " Have no doubts," said Abul Fazil: "nothing is denied to the sultan's power, nothing will be denied to thee." "And the Brahman Adhar ?" " It has been looked to — he will not trouble thee." VOL. in. — 1834. v 142 AMRA. " Dead? O merciful Allah ! crime upon crime ! " " His life is cared for," said Abul Fazil, calmly : " ask no more." " It is sufficient. O my brother ! () Amra ! " — " She is thine ! — Now hear the will of Akbar." Faizi bowed his head with submission. "Speak!" he said; "the slave of Akbar listens." " In three months from this time," continued Abul Fazil, "and on this appointed night, it will be dark, and the pagods deserted. Then, and not till then, will Sahib be found at the accustomed spot. He will bring in the skiff a dress, which is the sultan's gift, and will be a sufficient disguise. On the left bank of the stream there shall be stationed an ample guard, with a close litter and a swift Arabian. Thou shalt mount the one, and in the other shall be placed this fair girl. Then fly : having first Hung her veil upon the river to beguile pursuit ; the rest I leave to thine own quick wit. But let all be done with secrecy and subtlety; for the sultan, though he can refuse thee nothing, would not willingly commit an open wrong against a people he has lately conciliated ; and the violation of a Brahminet- woman were enough to raise a province." " It shall not need," exclaimed the youth, clasping his hands : " she loves me ! She shall live for me — only for me — while others weep her dead ! " " It is well : now return we in silence, the night wears fust away." He took one of the oars, Faizi seized the other, and with some diffi- culty they rowed up the stream, keeping close under the overshadowing banks. Having reached the little promontory, they parted with a strict and mute embrace. Faizi looked for a moment after his brother, then sprung forward to the spot where he had left Amra ; but she was no longer there : apparently she had been recalled by her nurse to her own apartments, and did not again make her appearance. Three months more completed the five years which had been allot- ted for Govinda's Rrahminical studies; they passed but too rapidly away. During this time the Brahman Adhar did not arrive, nor was his name again uttered : and Amra, restored to health, was more than ever tender and beautiful, and more than ever beloved. The old Brahman, who had hitherto maintained towards his pupil and adopted son a cold and distant demeanour, now relaxed from his accustomed austerity, and when he addressed him it was in a tone of mildness and even tenderness. Alas for Govinda ! every proof of this newly awakened affection pierced his heart with unavailing re- morse, lie had lived long enough among the Brahmans, to aritici- AMRA. 148 pate with terror the effects of his treachery, when once discovered ; but he repelled such obstrusive images, and resolutely shut his eyes against a future, which he could neither control nor avert. He tried to persuade himself, that it was now too late ; that the stoical in- difference to all earthly evil, passion, and suffering, which the Pun- dit Sarma taught and practised, would sufficiently arm him against the double blow preparing for him. Yet, as the hour approached, the fever of suspense consumed his heart. Contrary passions dis- tracted and bewildered him : his ideas of right and wrong became fearfully perplexed. He would have given the treasures of Istakar to arrest the swift progress of time. He felt like one entangled in the wheels of some vast machine, and giddily and irresistibly whirled along he knew neither how nor whither. At length the day arrived : the morning broke forth in all that splendor with which she descends upon "the Indian steep/' Go- vinda prepared for the early sacrifice, the last he was to perform. In spite of the heaviness arid confusion which reigned in his own mind, he could perceive, that something unusual occupied the thoughts of his preceptor : some emotion of a pleasurable kind had smoothed the old man's brow. His voice was softened ; and though his lips were compressed, almost a smile lighted up his eyes, when he turn- ed them on Govinda. The sacrifice was one of unusual pomp and solemnity, in honour of the goddess Parvati, and lasted till the sun's decline. When they returned to the dwelling of Sarma he dismissed his pupils from their learned exercises, desiring them to make that day a day of rest and recreation, as if it were the festival of Sri, the goddess of learning, when books, pens, and papers, being honoured as her emblems, remain untouched, and her votaries enjoy a sabbath. When they were departed, the old Brahman commanded Govinda to seat himself on the ground opposite to him. This being the first time he had ever sat in the presence of his preceptor, the young, man hesitated ; but Sarma motioned him to obey, and accordingly he sat down at a respectful distance, keeping his eyes reverently cast upon the ground. The old man then spoke these words : " It is now five years since the son of Mitra entered my dwelling. He was then but a child, helpless, orphaned, ignorant of all true knowledge ; expelled from the faith of his fathers and the priveleges of his high caste. I took him to my heart with joy, I fed him, I clothed him, I opened his mind to truth, I poured into his soul the light of knowledge : he became to me a son. If in any thing I have omitted the duty of a father towards him, if ever I refused to him. the wish of his heart or the desire of his eyes, let him now speak ! " 144 AMRA. "Oh my father! "— " No more," said the Brahman, gently, " I am answered in that one word ; but all that I have yet done seems as nothing in mine eyes : for the love I bear my son is wide as the wide earth, and my bounty shall be as the boundless firmament. Know that I have read thy soul I Start not I I have received letters from the South coun- try. Amra is no longer the wife of Adhar; for Adhar has vowed himself to a life of penance and celibacy in the temple of Indore, by order of an offended prince ; — may he find peace ! The writings of divorce are drawn up, and my daughter being already past the age when a prudent father hastens to marry his child, in order that the souls of the dead may be duly honoured by their posterity, I have sought for her a husband, such as a parent might desire ; learned in the sciences, graced with every virtue ; of unblemished life, of unmixed caste, and rich in the goods of this world." The Brahman stopped short. Faizi, breathing with difficulty, felt the blood pause at his heart. " My son ! " continued the old man, " I have not coveted pos- sessions or riches, but the gods have blessed me with prosperity ; be they praised for their gifts ! Look around upon this fair dwelling, upon those fertile lands, which spread far and wide, a goodly pros- pect ; and the herds that feed on them, and the bondsmen who cul- tivate them ; with silver and gold, and garments, and rich stores heaped up, more than I can count — all these do 1 give thee freely : possess them ! and with them I give thee a greater gift, and one that 1 well believe is richer and dearer in thine eyes — my daughter, my last and best treasure I Thus do I resign all worldly cares, devoting myself henceforth solely to pious duties and religious meditation: tor the few days he has to live, let the old man repose upon thy love ! A little water, a little rice, a roof to shelter him, these thou shall be- stow— he asks no more." The Brahman's voice faltered. He rose, and Govinda stood up, trembling in every nerve. The old priest then laid his hand so- lemnly upon his bowed head and blessed him. "My son! to me far more and better than many sons, be thou blest as thou hast bles- sed me ! The just gods requite thee with full measure all thou hast done ! May the wife I bestow on thee bring to thy bosom all the felicity thou broughtst to me and mine, and thy last hours be calm and bright, as those thy love has prepared for me ! " " Ah, curse me not ! " exclaimed Govinda, with a cry of horror ; for in the anguish of that moment he felt as if the bitter malediction, thus unconsciously pronounced was already fulfilling. He flung AMRA. 145 himself upon the earth in an agony of self humiliation ; he crawled to the feet of his preceptor, he kissed them, he clasped his knees. In broken words he revealed himself, and confessed the treacherous artifice of which he was at once the instrument and the victim. The Brahman stood motionless, scarcely comprehending the words spo- ken. At length he seemed to awaken to the sense of what he heard, and trembled from head to foot with an exceeding horror; but he uttered no word of reproach : and after a pause, he suddenly drew the sacrificial poniard from his girdle, and would have plunged it into his own bosom, if Faizi had not arrested his arm, and without difficulty snatched the weapon from his shaking and powerless grasp. "If yet there be mercy for me," he exclaimed, "add not to my crimes this worst of all — make me not a sacrilegious murderer ! Here," he added, kneeling and opening his bosom, " strike ! satisfy at once a just vengeance, and end all fears in the blood of an abhor- red betrayer ! Strike, ere it be too late ! " The old man twice raised his hand, but it was without strength. He dropped the knife, and folding his arms and sinking his head upon his bosom, he remained silent. " O yet ! " exclaimed Faizi, lifting with reverence the hem of his robe and pressing it to his lips, " if there remain a hope for me, tell me by what penance — terrible, prolonged, and unheard-of — I may expiate this sin ; and hear me swear, that, henceforth, neither temp- tation, nor torture, nor death itself, shall force me to reveal the secrets of the Brahmin faith, nor divulge the holy characters in which they are written : and if I break this vow, may I perish from off the earth like a dog ! " The Brahman clasped his hands, and turned his eyes for a moment on the imploring countenance of the youth, but averted them instantly with a shudder. " What have I to do with thee," he said, at length, " thou serpent ! Well is it written — i Though the upas-tree were watered with nectar from heaven instead of dew, yet would it bear poison.' Yet swear — " " I do— I will " " Never to behold my face again, nor utter with those guileful and polluted lips the name of my daughter," " My father ! " " Father ! " repeated the old man, with a flash of indignation, but it was instantly subdued. " Swear ! " he repeated, " if vows can bind a thing so vile ! " " My father, I embrace thy knees ! Not heaven itself can annul the past, and Amra is mine beyond the power of fate or vengeance to disunite us — but by death ! " 146 AMRA. " Hah ! " said the Brahman, stepping back, " it is then as I fear- ed ! and this is well too!" — he muttered; "Heaven required a victim !" He moved slowly to the door, and called his daughter with a loud voice: Amra heard and trembled in the recesses of her apartments. The voice was her father's but the tones of that voice made her soul sicken with fear; and, drawing her drapery round to conceal that alteration in her lovely form which was but too apparent, she canu forth with faltering steps. Approach, said the Brahman, fixing his eyes upon her, while those ofFaizi, after the first eager glance, remained riveted to the earth. She drew near with affright, and gazed wildly from one to the other. " Ay, look well upon him, whom dost thou behold ? " " My father, — Ah, spare me ! " " Is he your husband ? " " Govinda, alas — speak for us ! " — "Fool!" — he grasped her supplicating hands, — "say but the word — are you a wife ? " " I am, I am his, before the face of heaven ! " " No," — he dropped her hands and spoke in a rapid and broken voice: "No, heaven disclaims the monstrous mixture; hell itself rejects it. Had he been the meanest among the sons of Brahma, I had borne it : but an Infidel, a base-born Moslem, has contaminated the stream of my life. Accursed was the hour when he came beneath my roof, like a treacherous fox and a ravening wolf, to betray and to destroy. Accursed was the hour, which mingled the blood of Na- rayna with that of the son of a slave. Shall I live to look upon a race of outcasts, abhorred on earth and excommunicate from heaven, and say, ' These are the offspring of Sarma ? ' Miserable girl, thou wert preordained a sacrifice ! Die, and thine infamy perish with thee ! " Even while he spoke he snatched up the poniard which lay at his feet, but this he needed not : the blow was already struck home, and to her very heart. Before the vengeful steel could read) her, she fell, without a cry — a groan — senseless, and, as it seemed, lifeless, upon the earth. Faizi, almost with a shriek, sprang forward ; but the old man inter- posed : and, with the strong grasp of supernatural strength — the strength of despair — held him back. Meantime the women, alarm- ed by his eries, rushed wildly in, and bore away in their arms the insensible form of Amra. Faizi strove to follow ; but, at a sign from the Brahman, the door was quickly closed and fastened within, so that it resisted all his efforts to force it. He turned almost fiercely AMRA. 147 c< She will yet live," he passionately exclaimed ; and the Brahman replied, calmly and disdainfully, " If she be the daughter of Sarma, she will die." Then rending his garments, and tearing off his turban, he sat down upon the sacrificial hearth ; and taking up dust and ashes, scattered them on his bare head and flowing beard : he then remain- ed motionless, with his chin upon his bosom, and his arms crossed upon his knees. In vain did Faizi kneel before him, and weep, and supplicate for one word, one look : he was apparently lost to all con- sciousness, rigid, torpid ; and, but that he breathed, and that there was at times a convulsive movement in his eyelids, it might have been thought that life itself was suspended, or had altogether ceased. Thus did this long and most miserable day wear away, and night came on. Faizi — who had spent the hours in walking to and fro like a troubled demon, now listening at the door of the zenana, from which no sound proceeded, now endeavouring in vain to win by the most earnest entreaties, some sign of life or recognition from the old man— could no longer endure the horror of his own sensations. He stepped into the open air, and leaned his head against the porch. The breeze, which blew freshly against his parched lips and throbbing temples, revived his faculties. After a few moments he thought he could distinguish voices, and the trampling of men and horses, borne on the night air. He raised his hands in ecstasy. Again he bent his ear to listen : he heard the splash of an oar. " They come" he exclaimed, almost aloud, " one more plunge, and it is done. This hapless and distracted old man I will save from his own and others* fury, and still be to him a son, in his own despite. And, Amra, my own, my beautiful, my beloved, oh, how richly shall the future atone for these hours of anguish. In these arms the cruel pride and prejudices of thy race shall be forgotten. At thy feet I will pour the treasures of the world, and lift thee to joys beyond the brightest vi- sions of youthful fancy. But — O merciful Allah" — At the same moment a long, loud, and piercing shriek was heard from the women's apartments, followed by lamentable wailings. He made but one bound to the door. It resisted but his despair was strong. He rushed against it with a force, that burst it from its hinges, and precipitated him into the midst of the chamber. It was empty and dark ; so was the next and the next. At last he reached the inner and most sacred apartment. He beheld the lifeless form of Amra extended on the ground. Over her face was thrown an embroidered veil : her head rested on the lap of her nurse, whose features appeared rigid with horror. The rest of the women, who were weeping and wailing, covered their heads, and fled at his approach. 148 AMRA. Faizi called upon the name of her lie loved : he snatched the veil from that once lovely face — that face which had never been revealed to him but in tender and soul-beaming beauty. He looked, and fell senseless on the floor. The unhappy Amra, in recovering from her long swoon, had fallen into a stupor, which her attendants mistook for slumber, and left her for a short interval. She awoke, wretched girl, alone, she awoke to the sudden and maddening sense of her lost state, to all the pangs of outraged love, violated faith, shame, anguish, and despair. In a paroxysm of delirium, when none were near to soothe or to save, she had made her own luxuriant and beautiful tresses the instrument of her destruction, and choked herself by swallowing her hair. When the emissaries of the sultan entered this house of desolation, they found Faizi still insensible at the side of her he had so loved. He was borne away before recollection returned, placed in the litter which had been prepared for Amra, and carried to Ferrukabad, where ih(! sultan was then hunting with his whole court. What became of the old Brahman is not known. He passed away like a shadow from the earth, "and his place knew him not." Whether he sought a voluntary death, or wore away his remaining years in secret penance, can only be conjectured, for all search was vain. Jv.i stern records tell, that Faizi kept his promise sacred, and never revealed the mysteries intrusted to him. Yet he retained the favour <>f Akbar, by whose command he translated from the Sanscrit tongue several poetical and historical works into the choicest Persian. He became himself an illustrious poet; and, like other poets of greater fame, created " an immortality of his tears." He acquired the title of Shcich, or " the learned," and rose to the highest civil offices of the empire. All outward renown, prosperity, and fame, were his ; but there was, at least, retributive justice in his early and tragical death. Towards the conclusion of Ak bar's reign, Abul Fazil was sent upon a secret mission into the Deccan, and Faizi accompanied him. The favour which these celebrated brothers enjoyed at court, their influence over the mind of the sultan, and their entire union, had long excited the jealousy of Prince Selim, the eldest son of Akbar, and he had vowed their destruction. On their return from the south, with a small escort, they were attacked by a numerous band of ass- assins, disguised as robbers, and both perished. Faizi was found lying upon the body of Abul Fazil, whom he had bravely defended to the last. The death of these illustrious brothers was lamented, not only within the bounds of the empire, but through all the king- THE PAST. 149 doms of the East, whither their fame had extended ; and, by the sul- tan's command they were interred together, and with extraordinary pomp. One incident only remains to be added. When the bodies were stripped for burial, there was found within the inner vest of the Sheich Faizi, and close to his heart, a withered Lotus leaf inscribed with certain characters. So great was the fame of the dead for wis- dom, learning, and devotion, that it was supposed to be a talisman endued with extraordinary virtues, and immediately transmitted to the sultan. Akbar considered the relic with surprise. It was no- thing but a simple Lotus leaf, faded, shrivelled, and stained with blood ; but on examining it more closely, he could trace, in ill-formed and scarcely legible Indian letters, the word AMRA. And when Akbar looked upon this tender memorial of a hapless love, and undying sorrow, his great heart melted within him, and he wept. THE PAST. A hermit once lived on a steep, The last of a numberless race ; He whispered his sighs to the deep, Their record he kept in his face. He lived, a mysterious man, Like a tree that was scathed by the storm, He showed where the fluid had ran, By the fissures it left in his form. A succession of winters had flung The hoar frost of age on his head, And all his wild melodies rung A peal of deep sighs for the dead. One mom he sat lone on the brow, That for ages had been his hard pillow ; Ask the solitude where is he now ? It echoes " beneath in the billow." HARTON. Bucltfastleigh. VOL, in. — 1834. w 150 LITERARY NOTICES, No. VII. THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS * NOT having the pleasure of knowing Mr. J. Johns, we hereby take the liberty of introducing ourselves, and saluting him as a Poet and " Western Worthy." "The Valley of the Nymphs" is a poetical subject, and it is but just towards the author to say, that he has treated it poetically : by and bye the work shall speak for itself. Prior, however, to the advancement of our humble opinion, we must assure the good natured reader that, in order to qualify ourselves for such u task, we purchased one of the eighteenpenny packets of instructions in criticism, (alluded to by SPECTATOR in a recent number of the JJerald} which we have duly read : we have also learned by heart the names of thir- teen celebrated poets, as well as fifteen prosodial terms. In the packet alluded to it is said "All who would be- come excellently well skilled in criticism as an ART, will take especial care to have alway on the writing-desk, one slaughtering knife, such as is in usage amongst butchers, one bottle of oil, one pot of honey and one plate of butter : these things will be of uncommon aid, as symbols and signs and tokens, to direct the mental proceedings of the reviewer." It is also advised that all critical writers should allow their imagination to commence with the knife and end with the honey : we however shall do the buttering part of the business first. In serious and sober earnest, the " Valley of the Nymphs" is a very promising and praiseworthy perfor- mance ; the author has gone back to the mythological period, that glorious time for poets ; and has laid his scene in a valley as fair as any in Arcadia : an island reposes in a beautiful lake, embosombed in the vale ; and hither, once in every year, twelve beautiful Youths and Virgins come to pay their vows and offerings, bring- r The Valley of the Nymphs, a Dream of the Golden World ; by J. Johns. Hurst and Chance, London: Curtis, Plymouth: 1829 : 8vo: pp. 48. THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. 151 ing with them, as gifts, honeycombs, rare shells, fruits, incense, flowers &c. ; in return a Choir of Nymphs, a Nereid, a Naiad, a Dryad, and an Oread assemble on that day to receive the homage of the mortals. A very sweet and pleasing scene is wrought out by the Author in describing the assembling of the Nymphs and the approach and homage of the Youths and Virgins ; they are made to perform their vows &c., in alternate cho- russes, an idea which was probably suggested by the Roman Carmen Seculare. In the description of Natural Scenery Mr. Johns is equal to Carrington, and this is saying a great deal, but, in elegance of language, and in originality and beauty of imagery, he is far superior to the Author of Dartmoor : the poem before us does not offer any means of knowing how the two writers might have ranked in power ; nor how far Mr. Johns could have carried on well a sustained description of scenery, such as Carring- ton has done. The following passage is an exemplifi- cation of our remark. " Down the tall mountains to the cradled vale, Swept a dark cloud afforest. High above, Where the grey rocks held commune with the sky, The giant pines flung forth their antique boughs, Hoar with eternal age. Beneath, the sides Of the cleft hills were covered with the glooms Of woods coeval with the infant world. Shade deepening after shade, the eye was lost In that superb umbrageousness ; it seemed As darkness were transparent, and you saw Interminable depth of glassy gloom. Cork trees spread out their huge, fantastic limbs, Obscuring the black crags with a fine horror. The ilex reared its multitudinous leaves, The sycamore its massy shade, the oak Its immemorial boughs. The cedar towered In glorious darkness ; the majestic palm Lifted its green crown, while the aspen shook Its firmament of twinkling leaves beside. There the grand cypress rose, a pyramid Of sablest verdure, seen among the rest, As the thunder spot amid the summer clouds. There waved the slender ash; and lower yet, The willow dipt its long locks in the stream, 152 THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. That worked its way through the green night to day, Giving their beauty to the beautiful Augmented with its own. Lowest of all A fragrant labyrinth of leaf and bloom, Rose and acanthus, myrtle, passion-flower, Cystus and laurel, tufted thick the roots Of the rent crags ; ivy and eglantine Matted the trunks and branches ; and the vine Traced o'er the brown rock or the cavern's mouth, Distilled her pendant nectar-drops, and wove Meet shadows for the deathless." pp. 3, 9, 10, We shall have something to say of the " fine horror" presently, but now pass on to another picture. " Mid the vale (Feeding a deep calm stream, that wound its way Through a long, high, and verdurous mountain-arch, Into the world it knew not,) a sweet Lake In clear and limpid silentness reposed, The mirror of the mountains and the flowers That fringed its solitary marge. Fair swans That sang and died not, bathed or floated by, Fed on the golden sedge-flowers, or reclined On the soft turf that banked the lone waves round. In the centre of this woodland lake, there lay One bright and sacred Isle. A simple, old, And Dorian temple reared its pillars ijjrey On this green spot; and a fi-w .stately trees Shadowed the altar. Time had round it cast A soli-inn beauty and a rich decay. Old marble steps ascended to the Fane Touched, like the columns, with the golden tinge Of many years. Nature had marked the- place- Out for religion/' pp. 10, 11. But Mr. Johns does not merely prove himself capa- ble of graphic excellency as the next extract will abun- dantly testify. " Night was lost In the fresh morn ; and one resplendent shape Lay on the grass within that lonely glade, And dressed her sinning tresses in the stream. Twas the Goddess of the Brook : — First of the Four, She came in solitary loveliness, And watched her beauty in her own clear wave. A form so fair has never blessed the dreams Of the divinest mortal. Let the bard Create the charms he raves of — yet that Shape Would shine like Phosphor o'er 'the vulgar stars. THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. 153 Give the loveliest marble breath, — melt the chili stone With the warmth of life and love, — that Form divine Would turn its very spirit into dust, And make its beauty earthly. There she lay, Stretched on the turf, which seemed illumined round By a lustre from her limbs — beside the brook, Which gave a glowing image of her charms, In all their naked purity. The eyes, Burning with beautiful divinity — The clear, serene and glory-breathing brow — The lip of conscious lightning — the bent neck, Half hid with clusters of immortal hair, Which strayed o'er the white bosom, lovingly, Like the fond moonbeams on the Latmian snow, — Away with words ! — There the bright Being lay, Smiling serenely o'er her own deep charms, And looking upon loveliness in love.'7 . pp. 15, 16. The approach of the Youths and Virgins and their arrival at the altar are very pleasingly depicted. " And now they neared the Isle, And moored their barks beside the steps of marble Ascending to the fane. There the twelve formed Themselves in order. The white-vested virgins Led the fair pomp, — each bearing a light basket Laden with gifts, and a pale twine of roses On her chaste head, — still warbling1, as they went, Praises to those they saw not. Side by side Behind them carne the Youths, clad, like themselves, In sacred white, but crowned with blushing roses. Two struck the lyre, two touched the mellow flute, And two attuned the cadenced reeds of Pan. Slowly they moved, yet soon they reached the Temple : There, at the altar, they laid down their gifts, Kindled the incense, hung with wreaths the columns, And then by turns the male and maiden chorus Danced round the altar; chanting a glad paean To the unearthly dwellers of the vale. Richly it melted o'er the lake, and fell On the ears of the mute listeners ; for pure praise And love are dear to Woman, though immortal, And song has charms for those that live for ever." p. 21. The Dryad describes a very tender scene, which all young ladies will be obliged to us for quoting. " 1 have a favorite haunt : there y ester-even That Youth, with the fair Maid I spoke of, came, And, as they strayed within the leafy twilight, They poured their young hearts out in burning words, 154 THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. In blushes deep as morn's, in sighs and whispers, And broken murmurs, that, like childhood's lispings, Plead more than eloquence. Their loving eyes Sometimes were fastened on each other's faces ; Sometimes they shrunk from the dear glance they sought, Abashed at their own daring; while between Came tones more passionate than the nightingale's, When first she loves. It was a happy sight, To see that twain so young, so innocent, So lovely, and so trusting. As I caught The wild-dove murmurs of their hearts in meeting, I almost envied them their human clay, And felt the pure divinity of that, Which, if it make not, fits to be immortal." pp. 35, 36. The following is beautifully pathetic. " Happy — most happy — that the Destiny, Which reigns above, and works around us, shuts With adamantine seals the scroll of doom. I low should we brook it, think ye, could we see The gradual misting of those fair young eyes, The clouds that dim all mortal stars, the pangs That wait upon the cradle, and the t« That gleam with desolate light on the mute urn ? Were we to see all this at once, drawn out in drear distinctness on our boding souls, How should we wish the spectral mirror broken! Oh what were then this everlasting breath, But unoblivious pain ?" p. 37. The next quotation isa portion of one of the Choruses, (Chorus of Nymphs), we have not room for the whole. " Thou Immemorial One, Who, as the sun Lights this green star, lightest infinity ; \\ ho wert, when nothing was, Who wilt be, though the laws ( )t' Order fail, and Being cease to be ! Thou, to whose spirit-ear Sang forth each sphere, Launched at its birth along the trembling sky; W ho rolledest forth the stars On their melodious cars, Fixing their barriers and their goal on high ! Thou, who dost fill alone Creation's throne, Light of all Space, and Fountain of all Time ; Whose awful Presence broods O'er heaven's dread solitudes, Where never Chaos heard thy voice sublime! THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. 155 Thou, whose least will is fate ; Whose thoughts create ; Who fillest all Matter with mysterious Mind ; Who art of this vast whole, Eye, Ear, Hand, Heart, and Soul, Kindling the sun, and whispering in the wind ! Thou, whose blue cloud-fire's stroke Rips the strong oak ; Whose thunder maddens through the burning gloom : By whom wan meteors hurled Glare on the shuddering world, And the, blind tempests sing the song of doom f Thou, who lett'st loose the deep, When the waves leap On the hoarse rocks, and rime the pines with spray ; Or bidd'st the peaceful foam In golden ripplings roam O'er the green-diamond main at evening day ! Thou, whose fine Spirit guides The gleaming tides, That roll the mute moon's talisman beneath ; Through whom the Months and Hours Shed forth ripe fruits and flowers, And the warm winds upon the young leaves breathe ! Thou, from whose urn sweet rains Impearl our plains ; ll'7/o strew' 'st like silver seed the quickening dews; \Vho mak'st the dusk cloud glow With thy seven-gloried bow, And giv'st each lonely brook its murmuring Muse ! " pp. 44, 45, 46, 47. The whole poem displays thought and talent of no common order, and it is very evident that the author has not lingered carelessly over the beauties of the An- cient classic writers. Having said this much in his favor, we must now consider the other side of the ques- tion. We are informed, by an introductory remark, that the " Valley of the Nymphs" was written at the rate of about forty lines per diem, for thirty consecutive days ; and that the faults it may have would probably have remained unconnected, even had the writer kept it by him for the Horatian nine years. Now, it appears to us, that with the first of these observations — as an ex- 156 THE VALLEY OF THE NYMPHS. tenuatory plea — the public have nothing whatever to do : — whether Mr. Johns wrote a book in a month or in an hour is not for the consideration of poetical read- ers, their business is with the thing produced — not witli the time occupied in producing it. An old saw tells us that " whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well ;" if, then, the " Valley of the Nymphs" were at all worthy Mr. Johns' pen, his voluntary confession of slovenliness or indolence, whichever it be, is indefensi- ble ; and that he was careless and negligent at times the occasional occurrence of unmusical and prosaic lines sufficiently indicates. Bryan Waller Proctor or, as he has baptised himself, Barry Cornwall, can write with vigour, delicacy, and grace ; nevertheless, he hits spoiled some of his best productions by mannerism and affectation ; one instance of which is his nauseous dandling and petting the word FINE, he shows it on every possible occasion — just as a child-proud mother exhibits a puny, smart, snivel- linn baby : we recollect repeated perversions of this de- I irate monosyllable, by the ingenious Barry, hisy/W bird, y///e power, y/we care ,y///t' c^e. &c. &c. are still ting- ling in our ears. Mr. Johns has thought this point in Proctor, a \vorthy model lor imitation, thereby evin- cing a distrust in his own powers which is to be regret- ted, and the more so as he has given ample proof that he endures neither poverty of thought nor lack of ex- pression when he chooses to rely on himself. To proceed, we have in the " Valley of the Nymphs" " somejine reed or chord/' p. 14, "ay/Wjoy," p. 1, "ay&*e horror," p. 9, "fine ethereal sleep," p. 19, "they/we light/' p. 31, " ourjine being/' p. 36, "Jine spirit," p. 46, Each of these fine words may have a special and dis- tinct meaning of its own, or it may have any significa- tion the gentle reader choose to attach to it. We will take the liberty of adding another case of the use of the WAR SONG. 157 vrordjine which came under our cognizance a few days since : six or seven ragged urchins were harnessed as horses, by sundry cords, to a frying-pan, which must un- questionably have seen better days, in this vehicle sat a weatherbeaten lump of juvenility stirring up the speed of his compatriots — who were then hauling him along at a slapping pace — by repeated and enthusiastic ex- clamations of " My Gor ! this is FINE/' The " Valley of the Nymphs" is, as we have already intimated, " a dream of the Golden World/' but, con- sidering that the poem contains but 1000 lines or thereabouts, we think that the gold is rather supera- bundant ; in very sooth there is enough to stock the elaboratory of a worker in the precious metals : to wit, we have " golden sedge-flowers ;" the day " breaking goldenly ;" the lithe poplar, "a spire of leafy gold;" the lake " a golden mirror ;" " the golden Narcissus ;" "golden dreams ;" " golden pomp ;" "golden peaks ;" "golden verdure," &c. But on the whole we must honestly say that the effusions of Nr. Johns are aurei ac auro magis aurei. We recommend the work to all lovers of poetry, and feel quite assured that no one, with the slightest touch of feeling or imagination, will peruse it without expe- riencing much refined intellectual gratification. TENTATUS. WAR SONG. Come, come ! my Hearts, to the battle plain, In the ranks of war let honour find us; Despair is hope — to die is gain, The Name shall live we leave behind us : The tender kiss, the parting sigh, Must not be blended with our glory ; The very glance of Beauty's eye Is dimmed in fires of martial glory. VOL. in. — 1834. x 158 WAR SONG. Come, come ! my Hearts, to the battle plain, The patriot soul shines out in parting ; 'Twere better tears bedewed the slain Than valour live to see them starting : O ! Could our matrons see the steel From twenty thousand scabbards leaping, They then would know what heroes feel And think their virtue stained by weeping. Come, come ! my Hearts, to the battle plain, Our Country is preserved in hasting, If honour be not worth a pain Its nectared fruit is not worth tasting : The highest branch of human bliss Is only what our fancies make it, And those its full enjoyment miss Who have but half a soul to take it. Come, come ! my Hearts, to the battle plain, A lingering death may yet overtake us ; Who would not think that virtue vain That lives to see the world forsake us : To rot unheeded and unsung, Or live alike despised and hoary, Is a stern precept which the young Would only teach to die with glory. Come, come ! my Hearts, to the battle plain, Nor let us shame the race that bore us, Our's be the conflict to maintain The enemy's to fly before us : In common with our Country's hordes We live in lands the great inherit — Then seek we titles with our swords, And plough the fields we're known to merit. HARTON. Buckfattleigh. 159 LUMINOUS APPEARANCE OF THE SEA. " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, as our souls are free, Far as the bree/e can bear the billows foam, Survey our empire and behold our home ! " BYRON. THE scorching heat of the day, within the Tropics, is generally succeeded by delightful evenings and pleasing nights, no sooner has the sun reached within a few degrees of the western horizon, than groups of the most fantastic clouds accumulate in the west whose sides are tinged with the most beautiful colours. It is now that the awnings are furled and all hands assemble on deck to inhale the cool evening breeze and behold the glories of the setting sun. — On one of these delightful evenings our " gallant ship" was wending her way towards the equator, the sun was set and we still lingered on deck, enjoying the cool breeze and the magnificent spectacle which the heavens presented, as each succeeding shade of darkness unfolded now Constellations to our view. Our attention was soon directed to the sea around us which began to assume a most brilliant appearance : the agitation of the waves by the wind gave out a thou- sand glow-worm like particles whose light illuminated the ocean, and whenever a wave was dashed aside by our ship, a glare of light shone on her tops and sails, sufficient to render the countenances of the topmen visible. The tracks of Flying fishes and their pur- suers were seen in the water darting in every possible direction, while ever and anon a porpoise would shoot like an arrow across our track, leaving a train of fire behind him. This pleasing spectacle around us, gave rise to many ingenious theories, as to the cause of the above phenomenon. One imagined the light to be emanations of rays from the moon : — Another thought it arose from putrid animal matter held in suspension in the fluid, &c. A bucket full of water was taken up from the sea, which when agitated by the hand, or in any other way whatever, light was given out, which would disappear in 5 or 6 seconds, but would again be given out on reagitating the water. It is reasonable to conclude from this experiment that whatever par- ticles gave out the light, it was necessary that some particular part of their surface should meet the eye of the observer. About half a pint of the water was taken from the bucket and put into a glass for examination. On the following day the water in question was sub- mitted to the scrutiny of a powerful microscope, and some very minute semitransparent globules were with some difficulty seen; these, from the ships motion, were continually shifting their position ; it was ascertained, however, that they sank in the portion of fluid 160 LUMINOUS APPEARANCE OF THE SEA. under examination : they were consequently specifically heavier than sea water. This fact being ascertained, search was made in the bottom of the glass, and, in a single drop of water taken up by the point of the finger, a bunch of at least 20 of the above mentioned semitrans- parent globules was found adhering together by a very fine membrane. These lay still and could be distinctly seen under the magnifying power of the microscope. I concluded at once that the light given out proceeded from these globules, and that they were the spawn of some very minute inhabitant of the deep, probably of that numerous race of worms, whose spawn adhere to, are hatched, enter into, and devour, the bottoms of such ships as are not defended by copper sheathing. We must conclude that there are certain times when these eggs be- come specifically lighter than sea water, in which they rise to the surface, and it is then they give out their phosphoric light. I con- ceive this may take place by means of solar heat, when the embryo has arrived at a certain point ; that one part of each egg is specifi- cally lighter than the other part, (just as we find is the case with a fowl's egg that has undergone incubation) that the light proceeds from the under or heaviest part, because we found it necessary to agitate the water, and consequently to turn the spawn round, before light was given out at all. My microscope is furnished with a micrometor where one 1 6th of a square inch is divided into 625 squares, and I noticed that 16 of the eggs or semitransparent globules would cover one square of the micrometer. Consequently, it would require 160,000 of globules to cover a superficial inch, and 64 mil- lions to make a cubic inch ! The luminous appearance of the sea continued from sunset to 4 o'clock the next morning, when it became very faint : the ship had gone over a space of 40 miles. Now a single drop of water was found to contain 40 globules or eggs : what a prodigious number must have been spread over a track of only 160 geographical miles ! a space very small indeed compared to the Ocean ! The water which had been taken up for examination was kept till dark, in order to ascertain whether its shining qualities would be retained ; but although thousands of globules remained at the bottom, no light could be produced, however much the water was agitated. SIN BAD. 161 THE LAST PLAGUE. The stars are sole watchers and silently glow On Egypt's proud capitol sleeping below, For night hath reprieved the galled slave from his chain, And dreams yield him freedom and gladness again. The tyrant hath sank on his couch of repose, Yet fancy is busy — around him she throws A vision of bondsmen who tremble to hear His blasphemous scoffing, his mandate of fear. Hark! — like the Solano with pestilent breath O'er Araby's wilderness walking in death — A voice is abroad, 'tis a tone from on high It calls on the agonized sleepers to die. The morning looked forth o'er the cities with dread Where blackened the brave and the beautiful dead ; The first-born child of each house was no more, From the palace of pride to the shed of the poor. O ! deep was the pleading of sorrow : — the cry Of the desolate mother swept painfully by, The father bent over his only stay's bier In the sternness of anguish that knew not a tear. The fond maiden pined that she still should be left, With the living, of life's dearest solace bereft, And — waking to struggle with madness — the bride, O ! drear dispensation ! found death by her side. Thus God, in his judgments, can fearfully prove How dire in his anger — how vast is his love ; To save from their bondage his servants — and quell Their oppressors with torments that words cannot tell. FRAXZ. 162 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. Resumed from page 94 . MR. EDITOR, — Previously to entering on the con- sideration of the second Linnean class of animals, it is but right that I should state the reasons, which in- duce me to forward the following remarks to you ; since they have been preceded by some of an ample and masterly character. In the first place Dr. Moore's work on the Ornithology of the Soutn of Devon neces- sarily embraces every bird which has been by accident discovered in this Country, — secondly, it is inaccessi- ble to the generality of readers, being published only in the "Transactions of the Plymouth Institution ;" and thirdly, I am desirous of adding the few observations which I have made in confirmation or contradiction of those of Dr. Moore, and I therefore now proceed to the CLASS — AVES, — Linn. (Div. 1st. Land Birds. ORDER — ACCIPITRES. (icHti'x, /v//<7>, Hawk, &c. Sj). 1 . /•'. buteo, common Buzzard ; shot frequently on and in the vicinity of the Moor — commonly called " Kites" and " Keates". Sp. 2. /''. fi'ru^inosus, moor Bu///nrd ; said to be at least as plentiful as the foregoing. Sp. 3. i\ tinmmcuIuSf Kestrel; common on the rocky parts of the coast, as at Wembury, Morwell rocks, &c. Sp. 4. F. nisus, sparrow Hawk ; found in the woods about here, but not so commonly as the Kestrel. There are several other birds of this family, of rare occurrence in this neighbourhood ; for a notice of which I refer your scientific readers to Dr. Moore's work. Genus, Strix, Owl. Sp. 5. Strix flammed, white Owl ; pretty common in the thick parts of coppices and woods, barns, church towers, and in holes of rocks. Sp. 6. Strix stridula, brown Owl ; pretty common in the same haunts as the last named bird. NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 163 Other species of owls are enumerated by Dr. Moore, but their rarity is my excuse for omit- ting their insertion in a paper of this kind. Genus, Lanius, Shrike. Sp. 7. L. collurio, Red backed Shrike or " Butcher Bird ;" a common summer resident and breeder in this neighbourhood. I once obtained a bird here during summer, which by some is regarded as the young of the Collurio, and by others a distinct species — the Woodchat (Bewick, p. 75,) I incline to the former opinion. The Great Shrike, L. excubitor, is extremely rare in England. ORDER — PJCJB. Genus, Corvus. Sp. 8. C. corax, Raven, not uncommon ; it builds on the cliffs near the sea, as at Wembury. Sp. 9. C. corore, Crow ; rather common and in pairs like the last throughout the year. Sp. 10. C. frugilegus, Rook ; rookeries are abundant about Plymouth and occur in the town itself. Sp. 11. C. comix , hooded or Royston Crow; said by Dr. Moore to be common on the coast in win- ter, but I have not seen it here myself. Sp. 12. C. monedula, Jackdaw, and sometimes called Chough ; in small flocks about old churches, as at Egg-Buckland, Plympton St. Mary, and Yealmpton. Sp. 13. C. graculus, red-legged Crow or Chough ; on the coast of Cornwall and I think also at Wem- bury at one time of the year. Sp. 14. C. pica, Magpie; common; frequents orchards during spring and autumn. Sp. 15. C. glandarius, Jay ; common in woods and orchards. Genns, Certhia, Creeper. Sp. 16. C.familiaris, common Creeper or " tree climb- er;" pretty common in orchards and woods through the year. Genus, Sitta, Nuthatch. 164 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. Sp. 17. S. Europ&a, common Nuthatch ; not uncom- mon in the same localities as the Creeper. Genus, Picus, Woodpecker. Sp. 18. P. viridis, green Woodpecker, or " Woodwall" as it is termed in this country by the common people, is not uncommonly seen in orchards, and in severe winters is brought to market for sale. The greater and lesser-spotted woodpeckers are rarities in this country. Genus, Cuculus, Cuckow. Sp. 19. Canorus, " Guckow" commonly, very plentiful throughout this country during summer. Sp. 20. Alcedo, Kingfisher. A. ispida, common K. frequents the overhanging branches of trees on the banks of rivers and inlets of the sea, as at Pomphlet, Hooe, &c. It has also been shot at Oreston while frequenting the beach at low-tide. Dr. Moore enumerates the following birds as visitors of this neighbourhood, but they have not come within my own observation. Golden Oriole, Hoopoe, Bee-eater, Wryneck. ORDER — PASSERES. Gt'HHs, Frtngilla, Finch, &c. Sp. 21. F. domestica, house Sparrow ; extremely nume- rous. Sp. 22. F. Calebs, Chaffinch ; very common, provincially " mazefmch." Sp. 23. F. carduelis, Goldfinch, common. Sp. 24. F. spinns, Siskin or Aberdevine ; rarely obtained here by the birdcatchers. Sp. 25. F. linota, Linnet or greater Redpole ; common. The lesser Redpole is enumerated by Dr. Moore but I have not seen it myself. Sp. 26. F. montifringilla, Brambling ; shot occasionally in winter. Genus, Loxia, Grosbeak. Sp. 27. L. chloris, green Finch, green Linnet ; common. Sp. 28. L.pyrrhula, Bullfinch or " Hoop ;" pretty com- NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 165 mon especially in gardens during spring ; de- vouring buds of fruit trees. Sp. 29. L. curvirostra, Crossbill ; comes here in flocks very seldom. The Hawfinch is one of the very rare birds found in the vicinity of this place. (jrenus, Emberiza, Bunting. Sp. 30. E. citrinella, yellow Bunting, "yellow Ham- mer ; " very common. Sp. 31. E. miliaria, common Bunting, pretty common. Sp. 32. E. cirlus, cirl Bunting, not scarce. Sp. 33. E. schaniculus, reed Bunting, not uncommon according to Dr. Moore. The snow Bunting and tawny Bunting which last is regarded as the young of the snow Fleck, are occasionally obtained during hard winters. Genus, Parus, Titmouse. Sp. 34. P. major, great Titmouse or Ox-Eye, common. Sp. 35. P. ater, cole Titmouse, common. Sp. 36. P. palustris, marsh Titmouse, common. Sp. 37. P. caudatus, long tailed Titmouse, common, provincially " Bum-Barrel. " Sp. 38. P. c&ruleus, blue Titmouse, common, this and and the other species are commonly called " Tomtits " and " Eccamalls" or " Hickmalls. " Genus, Turdus, Thrush, &c. Sp. 39. T. merula, Blackbird, very common. Sp. 40. T. viscivorus, missel Thrush or " Holmscreech," rather common. Sp. 41. T. torquatus, ring Ouzel. The nearest spot to this Town where I have seen this bird was at a river near Black Aller Tor. Sp. 42. T. musicus, common Thrush, numerous. Sp. 43. T. pilaris, Fieldfare, 7 common in proportion Sp. 44. T. iliacus, Redwing, 5 to the severity of the winter. To be continued. PHILOPHYSICUS. VOL. in. — 1834. Y 166 INVOCATION. Daughter of Nature, Queen of love and song, Beautiful Spirit ! who awakest life Throughout the leafless world, O ! come again. O ! come again, in all the loveliness Of thine eternal — undecaying youth ; Smile on our valleys till each fearful flower, Like a young spirit from its earthly coil, Lifts up its graceful tenderness to morn. Rest on the bosom of our teeming land Till the rich influence of thy presence glows In every glade, in every glen remote With living verdure and expanding bloom. Call on the voices of the mountain wood Till thankful music swells along the sky, And Echo's tone responds the strain of praise. Quell Sorrow's tears and lead thy partner Joy To touch with fragrant lip the brow of care And soothe, in her distress, the child of Woe. O, light-winged winds ! ye that, at times, so bland Exhaust the silver wave along the shore With scarce a bubble raised in its career, Sighing a tune of aerial harmony. Ye that at evening, in the sacred shade, Steal the low whispered words of maiden love And wreathe their timid melody with thine. Ye that come wandering o'er the violet's bloom To sip the simple fragrance round it shed. Ye that in viewless arms so far convey The spirits of all lovely sounds to wreathe Their essence round the soul, their sister, come Shed balmy freshness o'er the fell and stream, And breathe Hygeian brilliancy again On the blanched cheek and pallid brow of pain. Songs of the field, the forest, and the glen ! Pour out your strength of eloquent delight To hail approaching Spring : let every leaf, New-opening to the life-dispensing breeze, Tremble — vibrating to the magic touch Of clear transparent sound : let every nook Where the meek primrose, in its virgin grace Of bending bashfulness, evades the glance Of day's hot eye, be stirred with rapture's hymn. FRANZ. 167 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. PROCEEDINGS IN THE ATHENAEUM. FEBRUARY 13th. — Dr. BUND'S Lecture on Sound. Having detailed the importance of Acoustics, defined and adduced several instances of the modification of sound by attenuated and dense air ; the Lecturer stated, as the fundamental proposition of Acoustics, that Sound requires some ponderable medium for its pro- pagation, and that in air the intensity of sound increases with the density of the air; he also observed that the next definition is as equally important, viz. that the motion which produces sound is al- ways a motion of vibration such as is perceptible in the chords of a violin, or such as a mass of air is made to exert in the hollow of a flute. The Lecturer then proceeded to show that the principle of vibra- tion which was evidently true in its generality, when applied to the sonorous body itself, was equally true when applied to the air, or the medium that surrounds the sonorous body, and that receives the sound to transmit it to in definite distances ; and having explained this ela- borately and at length he noticed the velocity of sound, and observed that it was affected by the velocity and direction of the wind as well as by temperature : from some experiments instituted by the Academy of Paris the velocity of sound was found to be 1090 feet in a second, and from Mathematical calculations made by Sir I. NewTton it was found to be 916 feet in a second, the discrepancy of these results was accounted for by La Place who discovered that the velocity of sound is greater in warm air than in cold. M. Biot proved, by experiments with a tube 300 feet long, that all sounds, whatever be their tone and intensity, travel with the same velocity ; and he further found, that when sound is prevented from losing itself in the air, it may be con- veyed to great distances : the lowest whisper made at one end of his tube was distinctly audible at the other, and the transmission of every agitation of the air was so faithful, that a pistol fired at one extremi- ty blew out a candle at the other. Rain, fogs, snow, &c., which have no influence on the velocity of sound diminish its intensity very much, and it is propagated with much force and clearness over tranquil water and ice. The Lecturer next spoke of reflected sound. When sound in the course of its propagation meets with an obstacle of sufficient extent and regularity, it is reflected and produces an echo : the reflected sound may be again reflected, by another obstacle, and thus the echo 168 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. may be repeated several times in succession. One in Woodstock Park repeats 17 syllables by day and 20 by night, there is a very tine echo beneath the suspension bridge over the Menai Straits, the effects of which were described by the Lecturer at some length ; he also made some remarks on the importance of attending to the nature of echos in the construction of large buildings, such as churches, cathedrals, theatres, &c., where music and speaking aloud were of frequent occurrence. Liquids being elastic and compressible are also adapted to the propagation of sound ; Franklin having plunged his head below water caused a person to strike two stones together, beneath the surface, and, at a distance of more than half a mile, he heard the sound dis- tinctly. Some careful and exact experiments were made in the lake of Geneva, to determine the velocity of sound in water. In the course of these experiments M. Colladin was led to remark some curious particulars respecting the nature, intensity, and duration of sounds propagated by water. He observed that the sound of a bell struck under water, when heard at a distance, bore no resem- blance to its sound in air — instead of a continued sound, a short, sharp sound is heard, like that of two knife blades struck together. The effect of hearing such a short dry sound, at a distance of many miles from its origin, he compares to that of seeing very distant objects sharply denned, by a telescope. When tried at different distances it preserved this character, varying only in intensity, so as to render it impossible to distinguish whether the sound arose from a violent blow at a great distance, or a gentle one near at hand. In the air the contrary takes place, the shock of the first impulse only is heard in the immediate neighbourhood of the bell, while the continued musical sound is the only one that is heard at a distance. Another very curious observation of M. Colladin is that relative to the effect of interposed obstacles. Sounds in air spread around obstacles with great facility, and with very little diminution of inten- sity, but in water this is far from being the case. When a cylinder or hearing pipe was plunged into the water, at a place screened from communication with the bell, by a wall running out from the shore of which the top rose above water, a very remarkable diminution of the sound was observed when compared with that at a point near the former in direct communication with the bell. The Lecturer next detailed some instances and experiments to prove that elastic solids, such as glass, steel, &c. are as well adapted to the conveyance of sound as liquids, and perhaps better than they PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 169 are : he also explained what effect different conditions of the solid would produce on the sound, and made some observations on the means of determining on what different sounds depend. The Lecture was concluded by an explanation of the Anatomy of the ear. Dr. Budd had with him engravings of some of its parts, magnified; as well as anatomical preparations, to elucidate his remarks. FEBRUARY, 20th. — Mr. NORMAN, On the Fine Arts. The subject of this Lecture was an Analysis of the character of Sir Joshua Reynolds as a Painter, an endeavour to ascertain in what rank he ought to stand in the Republic of Art, and in what relation to other eminent Painters since the revival of the Arts in Italy ; — but he previously made some observations as to the intention and object of the Art of Painting, deeming them essential to the immedi- ate purpose of the Lecture. A picture which exhibits the utmost perfection of mechanical truth, if it possess no more, is not a speci- men of " Fine Art. " — The charm of a Picture — that which interests and delights an intellectual and educated mind, arises more from mental and speculative, than from mechanical truth. Mechanical excellence, nevertheless, is essential to perfection in the Fine Arts. Although Art has made great advances in England since Sir Joshua Reynolds first distinguished himself as a Painter, yet even now the popular notions which prevail about Art and Artists are either posi- tively false or altogether vague and indefinite. — By far the most nu- merous class of those who pass their judgment on pictures, judge of them as they would judge of a piece of mechanism — dexterity of handling and mechanical resemblance are with them the test of ex- cellence, and all the mental subtleties, which to the intellectual and sensitive eye constitute the charm of the work, are to them unknown. Sir Joshua Reynolds seems to have thought lightly of natural talent, and to have attributed his own success entirely to well-directed in- dustry; and his biographer, Mr. Farrington, ascribes it to education, encouragement and practice ; but Sir Joshua possessed by nature a mind gifted with powers and faculties to constitute a great Painter, and it was not in consequence of early advantages, but in spite of manifold disadvantages that he did become a great Painter. The Lecturer then proceeded to compare Sir Joshua Reynolds with other eminent Painters who have preceded him since the revival of the Arts in Italy. Notwithstanding the name of Michael Angelo was always greatest among painters with Sir Joshua, there seems hardly anything in common between them. The characteristics of VOL. in. — 1834. z 170 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. of Michael Angelo were supernatural grandeur of form, and energetic character; to which qualities Reynolds had no pretensions as a painter, nor had he much in common with Rafaelle, who was gifted with the faculty of ideality in a pre-eminent degree. There is no reason to suppose that Sir Joshua, at any period of his life, was peculiarly impressed with the excellence of the works of Leonardo da Vinci, or at least that he ever proposed them as a model for his imitation, but there is abundant evidence in his Pictures that he admired and imitated the works of Coreggio, and he must have possessed many qualities of mind nearly akin to that great painter. Sir Joshua was not only an admirer but an imitator of Georgione and Titian, Painters of the Venetian School, and he had some quali- ties of mind that were akin to both. He had, like both these emin- ent men, the power of feeling and appreciating all that constitutes richness and harmony in colour and chiaroscuro ; but not in an equal degree with either — he had also in common with them, a strong perception of character, and a power of generalising; but al- though in all these qualities he was alike in kind, yet he was greatly their inferior in power. As compared with Vandyck, although Sir Joshua Reynolds looked at nature with a penetrating eye, he certain- ly had not the power of giving to his Portraits that wonderful ab- stract and subtle air which we find in those of Vandyck. Rembrandt was the Painter, above all others, whose peculiar qua- lities Sir Joshua Reynolds seemed most anxious to acquire. There is abundant evidence that he studied and imitated the manner of Rembrandt, and sometimes he equalled him in colour and chiaroscuro ; but he never exhibited that remarkable poetic feeling which occasion- ally manifested itself in the works of Rembrandt ; yet he had a facul- ty which Rembrandt had not— the power of dignifying and elevating his Portraits above the living Models, always preserving, neverthe- less faithful and characteristic likenesses. It appears that Sir Joshua was slow to comprehend the great works of Michael Angelo and Rafaelle, and although he afterwards express- ed unbounded admiration of them, yet he made no approach to their high attainments ; obviously, because he did not possess such quali- ties of mind as are essential to such attainments. Sir Joshua Reynolds, was nevertheless, a Man of original genius, and the proof of this is, that at a period when Art was at the lowest stage of degradation, he, unaided and alone, and under the most ad- verse circumstances, broke the degrading shackles in which his Master, Hudson, and the other Professors of that day held it bound ; and, if he did not reproduce the splendour of the Medician age, at PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 171 least by his own works, he restored Art to a high rank and respecta- bility, which it has, with some fluctuations, maintained to the pre- sent day. FEBRUARY 27TH. — Rev. S. NICHOLSON'S Lecture on National Education. In the commencement, the lecturer alluded to the inadequacy of the existing provision for the instruction of the community with es- pecial reference to the lower classes ; and submitted to the members a plan for National Education ; in which suggestions were offered relative to the following particulars : — viz. The provision of schools throughout the kingdom in due proportion to the population ; The authoritative appointment of a course of useful instruction; The training of masters of approved qualifications ; The government of the schools by local committees and superior state functionaries ; The methods by which the education of the people may suitably be enforced ; And the practicability of defraying the attendant expenses. In the course of his paper, the lecturer advocated in a skilful and powerful manner, the importance of founding, on holy scripture, the moral branch of national education ; the wisdom and equity of avoid- ing, in measures intended for public benefit, all infringement on reli- gious peculiarities ; and the reasonableness of rendering the fountains of national intelligence and literary distinction accessible to every reputable member of society. MARCH 6TH. — Mr. PURDON, On The Practicability of Improving Ireland. The Lecturer stated that the means of making improvements in Ireland are completely within our reach ; that the dispositions of the people incline them to industry ; moreover the people require security and encouragement; and therefore, an efficient ruling power is the first desideratum for Ireland. He proceeded to state that the next object required is the union of capital and influence, and clearly demonstrated that the internal resources of that country if adequately employed, would yield im- mense profit. In conclusion the lecturer spoke of Ireland as being altogether perhaps, the most favourable country in Europe for all the purposes 172 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. of commerce; in affording the greatest facilities, from its insular situation, and its numerous natural and improveable harbours. From the numerous highly interesting, novel and useful facts, brought forward by the lecturer in the course of his paper, we find that to give an abstract would be to curtail a subject, on the impor- tance of which there can be but one opinion ; we therefore at an early day, purpose giving — in as compact a space as possible — the entire of this interesting paper. MARCH 13th. — Mr. HARRIS' Lectur^ on Combustion. The Lecturer began by defining the term combustion, which he described as being the disengagement of heat and light, during the chemical combination of certain substances which possess the pe- culiar property of exhibiting these phenomena. He then proceeded to give a brief account of some of the earlier theories which had been advanced to explain these appearances ; he remarked on the experiments of Lavoisier who first showed that the air which we breathe contained a principle essentially necessary, not only to com- bustion but also to animal life; this principle he exhibited in a dis- tinct form, and found that with it combustion would go on with much greater rapidity than in the atmospheric air : to this principle he gave the name of oxygen ; several experiments were shewn in illus- tration of the action of this gas; metals burned in it readily, throwing out beautiful scintillations, sulphur burned with an intense blue flame, and phosphorus with a white flame, so brilliant as to distress the eye by its glare, while the heat produced cracked the glass receiver con- taining it ; he then called the attention of the society, to a number of elementary substances, the names of which were arranged on the diagram board, these he described as the probable elements to which all known bodies were capable of being resolved : but that these were only considered simple so far as that they had hitherto resisted all attempts to decompose them. After having described the properties of some of the principle ones which were engaged in the phenomena of combustion, and explained the difference between combustibles and supporters of combustion, he went on to describe that modifica- cation designated flame; this was illustrated by the analysis of the flame of a candle, which is found to consist of three parts ; first, a dark hollow centre where all the volatilized parts are collected; second, a white flame, where these particles enter into combustion, and thirdly, a thin, pale, red film, surrounding the whole ; this being the part which receives the oxygen immediately from the atmosphere, was consequently the part of greatest heat, as the combustion here wa? PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 173 most perfect. In order to show that the hollow centre was a collection of combustible matter in an aeriform state, and consequently inca- pable of supporting combustion, the lecturer introduced the following original experiment : — he poured a quantity of spirits of wine on a broad, shallow, copper dish, which when ignited produced a large conical flame; this he bisected near the base, with a piece of watch spring, which became red hot only in the two parts which came in contact with the edges of the flame, shewing that at these parts there was the greatest heat; some camphor was then ignited in a very small metal cup, and was introduced in a burning state into the in- terior of the flame, where it became immediately extinguished, shew- ing that here there did not exist any principle capable of supporting combustion. By means of a small hole in the centre of the copper dish, oxygen was then admitted within the flame, and it was immedi- ately seen that the gaseous matter there contained, combining with a current of gas as it issued from the hole, ignited and burned in a long jet; thus there was one flame burning within the other ; the heat produced by this was very intense; copper and steel wire burned rapidly when brought in contact with it. The lecturer then proceeded to define the nature of fire-damp and the action of wire gauze in preventing the communication of flame from one portion of an explosive mixture through it to another ; the safety lamp was ex- plained, and with it Sir Humphrey Davy's discovery of invisible com- bustion; this interesting phenomenon was exemplified by inserting a red hot coil of fine Platina wire into a glass vessel, containing a few drops of ether in the bottom, the Platina wire was seen to glow very beautifully in the vapour of the ether, once or twice attaining a temperature sufficient to cause it to inflame. The intense heat produced by the combustion of a mixture of oxygen and hydrogen was then shown by means of the oxy-hydrogen blow-pipe : after ex- plaining the construction of this instrument, the lecturer submitted a piece of lime to the action of the flame which immediately ignited it to such an intense degree, as to rival the sun in brilliancy. He concluded by repeating the experiment first performed by himself, namely, that of decomposing the light produced in this way by means of the prism; and exhibited the prismatic spectrum with great brilli- ancy on the ceiling and floor of the hall. In consequence of the occurrence of an unfortunate and much to be regretted event, the committee deemed it expedient to postpone the delivery of the remaining lectures until a more suitable opportunity. 174 DISCOVERY OF THE MANUFACTURE OF DIAMONDS. AT a recent meeting of the Academic des Sciences, a letter was read from M. Gannal, stating the result of his inquiries into the action of phosphorus brought into contact with carburet of pure sulphur. Having occasion to prepare a large quantity of carburet of sulphur, M. Gannal conceived the idea of endeavouring to separate the sulphur of this product, in order to procure a pure carbon. Phosphorus was the material which he employed, and he found that, by the phosphorus entering into combination with the sulphur ; the carbon was set at liberty in the shape of small crystals, possessing all the properties of the diamond, especially that of scratching the hardest bodies. The following is a detail of the experiment : If several rolls of phosphorus be introduced into a matrass containing carburet of sulphur, covered with a layer of water ; the moment the phosphorus finds itself in contact with the carburet, it dissolves, and, becoming liquid, is pre- cipitated to the bottom of the matrass. The whole mass is then divided into three layers, the first formed of pure water, the second carburet of sulphur, and the third, of liquified phosphorus. Things being in this state, if the matrass be agitated so as to cause a mixture of the different bodies, the liquor grows thick, becomes milky, and after a little rest, separates anew ; but only into two layers ; the upper one of pure water, and the under one of phosphuret of sulphur, and between those two layers there is a very thin stratum of white powder, uhich, when the matrass is exposed to the sun's rays exhibits all the colours of the rainbow ; and which consequently appears to be formed of a multitude of little crystals. Encouraged by this success, M. Gannal endeavoured, by the following process, to obtain larger crystals, and succeeded. He introduced into a matrass, placed where it would be quite undisturbed, first 8 ozs. of water, and then 8 ozs. of carburet of sulphur : and 8 ozs. of phosphorus. As in the pre- ceding experiment the phosphorus dissolved, and the three liquids arranged themselves in the order of their specific gravity. After 24 hours there was formed between the water and the caburet, an ex- tremely thin pellicle of white powder; having, here and there, several air bubbles and various centres of crystallization, formed, some by spars or very thin sheets, and some by stars. In the course of a few days this pellicle grew gradually thicker : at the same time the separation of the two inferior fluids became less complete ; and in three months they appeared to form one and the same substance. Another month having elapsed without any new result; the ques- tion was, how to find means to separate the crystallized substance ANCIENT DRESS OF THE ENGLISH. 175 from the phosphuret of sulphur, to which the inflammability of the mixture presented great obstacles. After several attempts more or less unsuccessful, M. Gannal determined to filter the whole through a chamois skin, which he afterwards placed under a glass bell, taking care from time to time to renew the air — at the end of a month this skin becoming capable of being handled without inconvenience it was doubled up, washed and dried. For the first time M. Gannal, was then enabled to examine the crystallized substance which re- mained on its surface. Exposed to the sun's rays, this substance presented numerous crystals, reflecting all the colours of the rain- bow. Twenty of them were each large enough to be taken up on the point of a penknife ; and three others were of the size of a grain of millet. These last having been submitted to the inspection of an experienced jeweller in Paris, were pronounced by him to be real diamonds!! ! A M. Delatour stated that he had also produced the diamond by a different process. DRESS OF THE INHABITANTS OF ENGLAND AT THE CLOSE OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. THE habits of fashionable people, at the close of the fifteenth age, were truly fantastical . A petticoat hung over the loins ; a long doublet, laced over a stomacher, covered the fore part of the body : and the wide sleeved mantle, like a woman's gown, fell over the petticoat and descended to the ancles. The materials of which these dresses were composed, were gay and costly, (such as silks and vel- vets, cloth of gold and silver, &c. ;) and there seems to have been a real difficulty in knowing the well dressed man from the woman. This puzzle was, however, completely done away by a most absurd and ludicrous fashion, imported from the continent, soon after the accession of Henry VIII., a fashion which characterized the gross and indecent buffoon, the monarch and the labourer, the judge and the watchman. At the same time the doublet and the mantle be- came shorter; and long breeches came into use, instead of the petticoat. Some time after, the monarch increasing in dimension, the loyalty of the age prescribed corpulency to the subject, and every part of the male dress was stuffed with cotton or wool, that the wearer might emulate the bulk of the sovereign. The fantastic variety of habits in the sixteenth century, was hu- mourously satirized by Dr. Andrew Borde, a burlesque poet of that period. 176 TO THE RIVER PLYM. As to the head, the hood of the last age had given way to a coarse round felt hat, a cap or a bonnet among the men. The female, as a matron, wore a plain coif or velvet bonnet ; but, if a maiden, had her head uncovered, and permitted her tresses to hang down either simply or braided with ribbonds. The men wore their hair at full length, until the capricious Hen- ry VIII. decreed, that his attendants and courtiers should l poll their heads/ Henry directed also, that cloth of gold and and tissue should only adorn the duke and marquis ; purple should be reserved for the royal family; silks and velvets might be worn by the opulent commoner; but none inferior to an earl in dignity might use embroidery. Beneath these gay habits the legs could boast no tighter nor richer covering than boots, made of cloth. A pair of black silk hose, made in Spain, was a present worthy the acceptance of a king. The Scots afford no materials for any particular observation on their dress. The ladies, in spite of a legal ordinance, 'That no wo- man cum to the kirk nor mercat with her face muffalit,' appear, by the declamations of their contemporary poets, to have continued to use the fashion which they thought most becoming. TO THE RIVER PLYM. Loved Plym I I owe thee many a blessed hour, When, 'scaped the Town's dull din, thy banks I've sought, And roamed at will — feeding the unfettered thought With dreams elysian ; while the placid power, That dwells in greenwood shades, sweet influence brought, And hallowed all my musings. Oh ! how oft, Amid these lonely wanderings, hath the soft And balmy Eve, with gentle pace and slow, Stolen on my devious walk, — lulling awhile All bitter sense of past or present woe ; And when, upon the woods, Day's lingering smile Diffused its last rich tint of deepened glow, A holier joy — past utterance — was given, And wrapt in sweet illusion, Earth to me seemed Heaven ! HENRY INCLEDON JOHNS. Plymouth. Printed and Published hi/ G. Hearder, Bi/ckwell Street, Phrmouth. 5 s t- I THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, MAY IST, 1834. No. 17.J PRICE SIXPENCE. [VoL. III. BUCKLAND ABBEY.* THE institution of the monastic life arose at an early period of the Christian era. Its origin was partly de- rived from that powerful spring of action, the imitative principle. From the example of Elijah, who retired to the seclusion of Mount Carmel, an order of devotees was induced to withdraw from the world, under the appellation of Carmelites. Like the first Christians of Jerusalem, these zealots relinquished their goods to the use of their respective communities ; and assumed the names of Hermits, Monks, and Anachorets, to denote their residence in the shade of solitude. In the reign of Constantine, these Ascetics addicted them- selves to a course of self denial and discipline more rigid and painful than that of the Stoics ; and disdained, as fiercely as the Cynics themselves, the decencies and civilities of society. Their command of silence and subordination exceeded the Pythagorean injunction of profound, implicit acquiescence in the dictates of the philosopher, during a limited season. Egypt, the fruitful parent of superstition, produced the earliest specimen of the monastic character. Antony, an illi- terate youth of Thebias, having distributed his patri- mony, and left his home, exercised his monastic vows of penance and mortification with unprecedented and insuperable fanaticism. After a long and rigorous noviciate, among the tombs and in a ruined tower, he * Arms, Quarterly Argent and Gules, a Crosier, in bend, or. VOL. III. 1834. AA 178 BUCKLAND ABBEY. boldly advanced into the desert, three day's journey to the eastward of the Nile. Resting awhile in a lonely spot, shaded by palm trees near a fountain-side, he finally took up his abode on Mount Colzim, on the coast of the Arabian Gulph ; where an ancient monas- tery still preserves the name and memory of the saint. This venerable patriarch of Monachism, having attained the age of one hundred and five years, beheld the nu- merous progeny, which had been formed by his prac- tice and his instructions. To the south of Alexandria, the mountain and adjacent desert of Nitria, were peopled by five thousand anachorets ; and the traveller may still investigate the ruins of fifty monasteries, which were planted in that barren soil by the disciples of Antony. He was on terms of friendship with Athanasius, whose tenets he approved of. So high was the fame of his sanctity that the Emperor Constantine sent him an invitation, which he respectfully declined. The swarm of monks that arose from the Nile, over- spread and darkened the face of the Christian world. The Pilgrims, who visited Jerusalem, eagerly copied, in the most distant climates of the earth, the faithful model of monastic eminence, Antony's disciples spread themselves beyond the tropic, over the Christian empire of Ethiopia. The monastry of Banchor, in Flintshire, which contained above two thousand brethren, dis- persed a numerous colony among the barbarians of Ireland ; and lona, one of the Hebrides, which was planted by the Irish monks, diffused over the northern regions a doubtful ray of science and superstition. The monastic profession of the ancients was an act of voluntary devotion. After a sufficient trial, the fi- delity of the novice was secured by a solemn and per- petual vow ; and his irrevocable engagement was ratified by the laws of the church and state. The actions of a monk, his words, and even his thoughts, were deter- mined by an inflexible rule, or a capricious superior : the slightest offences were corrected by disgrace or con- finement, extraordinary fasts or bloody flagellation ; and disobedience, murmur or delay, were ranked in the BUCKLAND ABBEY. 179 catalogue of the most heinous sins. The freedom of the mind, the source of every generous and rational sentiment, was destroyed by the habits of credulity and submission; and the monk, contracting the vices of a slave, devoutly followed the faith and passions of his ecclesiastical tyrant. The popular monks whose repu- tation was connected with the fame and success of the order, assiduously laboured to multiply the number of their fellow capti ves. They insinuated themselves into noble and opulent families ; and the specious arts of flattery and seduction were employed to secure those proselytes, who might bestow wealth or dignity on the monastic profession. The indignant father bewailed the loss, perhaps of an only son ; the credulous maid was betrayed by vanity, to violate the laws of nature ; and the matron aspired to imaginary perfection, by re- nouncing the virtues of domestic life. The brethren were supported by their manual labour ; and the duty of labour was strenuously recommended as a penance, as an exercise, and as the most laudable means of securing their daily subsistence. The garden, and fields, which the industry of the monks had often rescued from the forest, or the morass, were diligently cultivated by their hands. They performed, without reluctance, the menial offices of slaves and domestics ; and the several trades that were necessary to provide their habits, their utensils, and their lodging, were exer- cised within the precincts of the great monasteries. Recluse fanatics have few ideas or sentiments to com- municate : study is the resource of solitude ; but edu- cation had not prepared and qualified for any liberal studies the mechanics and peasants, who filled the mo- nastic communities. The monastic studies have tended, for the most part, to darken rather than to dispel, the cloud of superstition. Yet the curiosity or zeal of some learned solitaries has cultivated the ecclesiastical, and even the profane sciences ; and posterity must grate- fully acknowledge that the monuments of Greek and Roman literature have been preserved and multiplied by their indefatigable pens. 180 BUCKLAND ABBEY. Buckland Abbey, seated on the eastern banks of the Tavy, was founded in honor of our Lady and St. Bene- dict, in the year 1278, by Amicia, Countess of Devon. For this new foundation she obtained a colony of Cis- tercian monks, from Quarrer,in the Isle of Wight. This order first settled in a place, called Cisteaux, in the neighbourhood of Dijon. It acquired the highest as- cendancy over the greater part of Europe ; and enjoyed unrivalled patronage and immunities. These Religious, without the previous licence and approbation of Walter Bronescombe, the bishop of Exeter, presumed to cele- brate mass, and to exercise their functions. The bishop resented this trespass on his diocesan jurisdiction, and subjected the community to excommunication and sus- pension. But he soon relieved them from this penalty, at the solicitation of the Queen Eleanor. The yearly revenues of Buckland Abbey, have been rated at £341. This abbey had also very considerable property in Bampton. The manors of Bocland, Byke- ley, Wolcampton and in Dertemer, Colompton and Wykecombe are mentioned as tributary to the abbot. That learned antiquary, and truly Catholic writer, the reverend G. Oliver, observes that he has seen an indenture made between the abbot of Buckland, Tho- mas White, and Robert Derkeham, organist. It is dated 28. May, 1622. The Abbot engages to pay Robert an annuity of £2. 13s. 4d. ; to provide him a decent table, to allow a furnished room over the west gate of the monastery, and a gown every year, of the value of twelve shillings. He farther engages to Robert the reversion of a tenement at Milton, then occupied by John Brooke ; and in the meanwhile to provide a de- cent dwelling-house, and garden, the moiety of the rent to be paid by Robert Derkeham, who is however to have the feeding of two cows, until he obtains posses- sion of John Brooke's tenement. Robert is also to be allowed five ounces of bread and a quart of beer every night throughout the year ; a wax candle from Nov. 1 . until Feb. 2. and thirty horse-loads of faggots for his fire. In consideration* of all this, the said Robert is BUCKLAND ABBEY. 181 to assist in the choir every day, during divine service, and to teach four boys of the convent, any one of whom he may choose to wait upon him as his servant. He farther engages to instruct the boys, and those monks who may wish to learn, in the art of Music and playing the organ. N. B. This indenture was admitted and allowed by the Augmentation Court, 18th December, 1540. The Abbey of Buckland is said to have planted the earliest orchards in the county. After the dissolution of this monastery, the scite was first granted" 33. Henry VIII." to Richard Greynfeld, and four years after, it was conveyed to Richard Crymes of London. In the time of Queen Elizabeth, it was purchased by Sir Francis Drake, in the possessisn of a descendant of whose family it still continues. The sword and shield of Sir Francis Drake are sus- pended in the hall of the Abbey. In the deer-park is preserved the stunted yet venerable form of an aged tree, called " Drake's Oak " — to the arms of which, accord- ing to tradition, the valiant sea Captain fled for pro- tection from the daring onset of a stag; whose antlers struck more dread than he felt when he encountered the grand Armada, or even when he braved the perils of the ocean in circumnavigating the globe. It is re- lated that when he returned after having sunk several ships of the Spanish flotilla, in 1588, he jocosely said, " We have only singed the beard of the King of Spain. " The Abbey is embowered with fruit trees and groves, like that of Vallombrosa, amid a forest of the Apennines. It is the painter's province to delineate the coy pictur- esque beauties of the Tavy, as from its union with the Walkham above the abbot's weir, it winds below Den- ham Bridge, by the Abbey borders in swift descent, towards the vale of Maristow, and the woods of War- leigh ; where its channel gradually spreads into an open bay, before its confluence with the Tamar. 182 BUCKLAND ABBEY. Our fathers heard with awe the Convent-bell, Whose music, " swinging slow with sullen roar," Awoke the echoes of this sylvan dell, Rebounding far round yon " wide-water'd shore.*' Devotion, wrapt in deep, monastic gloom, Withdrew to this sequestered, wild retreat ; And reared a paradise of vernal bloom, Whose wreaths fantastic crown Pomona's seat. In cadence to the pealing organ 's strain, The mitred Abbot walked the pillared aisle ; And with his crosier led the choral train, When, at the shrine, a virgin took the veil. If Superstition weave her magic spells To lure a novice to her gorgeous fane; The wand divine of Truth the charm repels, And warns the victim to elude the bane. No more the Palmer with his staff appears ; No errant Knight is harboured as a guest ; Nor way-worn Pilgrin, bent by weight of years, Seeks, in the Abbey cloister, food and rest. Though solemn temples with their rites decay, The Tavy yet to meet the Tamar flows ; And warbling birds attune their am'rous lay, While Earth is ever green; and Heaven with lustre glows. \V. E. Park Wood. NOTES. St. Francis, who instituted the Franciscan order, was followed by St. Bernard, and a succession of enthusiastic admirers. The avowed maxim of these austere Fanatics was " renounce the world, for the joys of heaven." In other words — relinquish the present duties of life to be ready to partake of immortality. Francis and Poverty are depicted by Dante, in amatory strains, as " The fondest pair, in wedded union blest : Their concord and complacent looks benign ; Love, admiration, each by each caress'd, Inspired beholders with a zeal divine; And kindled to a flame of holy fire, In San Bernard's venerable breast, To emulate their flight the bold desire ; MARRIAGE. 183 Yet, though he urged his speed with fervid mind, With feet and bosom bare, in rude attire, He seemed with tardy pace to lag behind O disregarded wealth; O bliss refined !" " Francesco e Poverta per due amanti La lor concordia e i lor lieti sembianti, Amore e maraviglia, e dolce sguardo Faceano esser cagion de' pensier santi ; Tanto che '1 venerabile Bernardo Si scalzo prima, e dietro a tanta pace Corse, e corresido gli pari' esser tardo. O ignota ricchezza, O ben verace ! " Del Paradise, Canto XI. v. 75. This apostrophe to the sweets of self-inflicted destitution appears a ray of light, reflected from a passage in Lucan ; " O vitae tuta facultas Pauperis, angustique lares ! O munera, nondum Intellecta, Deum ! " Xenophon also indulged in a vein of panegyric on the luxury of a mind at ease from the cares and perils of enviable distinction and affluence. He probably conceived this jeu d'esprit in his rural se- clusions at Scillus, in Elis ; where, an exile from Athens, he enjoyed philosophic leisure with dignity; or in his last refuge at Corinth. Fanaticism is apt to imagine that piety, like the upas tree, makes a desert where it grows ; that the mind, if not the body, needs a cloister. The natural movements of the soul are repressed ; the so- cial affections damped ; the grace and ornament and innocent exhila- rations of life are frowned upon ; and a gloomy, repulsive superstition is cultivated, which, by way of compensation for its privations, claims a monopoly of God's favour, abandoning all to his wrath, who will not assume its own sad livery, and echo its own sepulchral tones. Would it were true that this revolting sketch portrayed the baleful austerities of penance and commination that prevailed only in the middle ages, without reminding us of the like exclusive, malevolent, demoniac fiend ; which survives, and breathes its infuriate horror, even in the nineteenth century. Ep. James, c. iii. v. 15. MARRIAGE. IN marriage the character and interest of two worthy persons whom it may unite, are more entirely identified than in the relation of friendship merely. It is the peculiar excellence of marriage that its circumstances tend always to create a unity of character and in- 184 MARRIAGE. terest, such as cannot take place in any of the other relations of life. The spefl of love is never dissolved by their union, if it exist between them, with virtue, delicacy, personal cleanliness, good nature, and good sense, the charm acquires continually new power the longer they live together. Mutual partiality of esteem are the nectar and ambrosia upon which it feeds and grows, because the virtuous wife knows herself to be dearer and more amiable than all the world be- sides in her husband's eyes, and for that very reason he is dearer and more estimable than all others in the world to her. Their interesting prepossessions tend continually to exalt and influence one another; even the absence of those solicitudes, which are said to be the essence of love, is not sufficient in this case to abate the passion. The habit of affectionate converse, of mutual sympathy, of unreserved confi- dence, of continually leaning, even in thought, the one upon the other for comfort and approbation, enhances mutual endearments more than it is possible for words to express. The feeling that they cannot find happiness but in an entire unity of taste and interests, augments the same effects. They see nothing around them but what is the common wish or choice of both ; they grow together, and their very lives depend one upon the other. The more important and the more interesting to hope and fear the objects of the common regard, so much the more is their conjugal attachment cemented. Children, the pledges of their married endearments, are wards committed by Providence to their common tenderness, prudence, and good faith, by engaging them incessantly in offices of virtuous attention to the same dear objects, still heighten their mutual love. As their children grow up, and are dispersed in the world, they find themselves left in a great measure alone, and are again as it were all in all to each other. Afflictions and indispositions of health endear them to each other ; sympathy, common cares contribute equally to confirm the constancy and fervor of their attachment, and on the last verge of existence they become solicitous not to be left in this world one behind the other. Such is the natural effect of the conjugal union, where its happy effects are not counterbalanced by the views of the parties, such as do not necessarily spring from nor accompany marri- age. But even under all the disadvantages of the ignorances and vices of humanity, in the marriage union are to be found the truest attachment, the highest and most refined social comforts of which there is any example among men. It cannot give to vice and igno- rance all the advantage of virtue; but it often, by enlightening igno- rance and by reforming vice, raises the person whom they debased to a felicity of which they must otherwise have remained incapable. 185 FUNEREAL SKETCHES, No. XVII. FALSE LURES. A tale of love— the village maid Shall light the conscious smile, Or seem to turn a careless head Deep listening all the while. But well-a-day ! her heart is fled From Him, the undefiled, Who hailed the blossom ere it spread, Who loved her when a child. A tale of hope— the mariner Through perils doomed to roam — His visions of delight refer To life, and love and home : — Alas ! that hope to be at rest Should have no further goal ; Without a bower for the blest, Or anchor of the soul. Let beauty, ere her life and love Have lost their vernal glow, Yield heart and hope to One above From whom those blessings flow. And what at best are home and ease, Say, traveller of the wave, But a short way o'er troubled seas To that last port, the grave. No. XVIII. HOW THEY DIED. Trust wealth and fame and length of days with him That marks the sparrow's fall : Erewhile then lived The kinsman of a youth that was to me As brother to the orphan ; he beheld, Childless himself the scions of a line Something below patrician — not his own — Equal in either. From his flock and herd The fields he trod in childhood, or the town Whence homeward weekly trod his plodding wain Fancy ne'er led him. By his blazing hearth VOL. in. — 1834. BB 186 HOW THEY DIED. He pored upon our missives penned a-sea? Or in the sun-glare of the tropic isles, And wondered at our freaks of vagrancy. He perished in the waters ! — on an hour Perchance enticed by hope of honest gains, Or the sea lured him like a basilisk; — Beneath his own loved copses that o'erhung And hid the craggy margin of the strand The tide-race claimed its victim. For the youth His star was set already — set when Trade Year after year sends forth her delegates With prostrate adoration ; made to gold As to the statue seared in Babylon. Then died the young and fearless : — his bold spirit. Early inured to danger's every shape That prowls upon the waters, learned to beard His evil-genius when at last he met him Robed in the night-mist of thy stream, black river, From pestilential Camaroon. There 'scaped From perils of the Ocean, that had rocked The wakeful sea-boy, on his nightly watch, As strain 'd his weary gaze in search of mark To helm the eager vessel by — even then He met the visitant as in his tent The last and best of Romans. Shrive him, Heaven. Three weeping sisters mourned for that wild lad In forms too delicate for this world's coil ; Not for the softer passions : — but a child, Who also called him brother, could not weep For very hope in death to follow him. His was a shape that nature sometimes gives In lesson to her minions : — out on pride Humbled thus hardly, — strengthen'd with her strength A keen sense of the stigma, and her soul Shrinking within itself not long bore up Against the oppressive weight : — she fell asleep Outworn of her own spirit. 187 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND, AND GREAT ENCOURAGEMENT FOR JOINT-STOCK COMPANIES. BY SIMON PURDON, ESQUIRE. WHILE endeavouring to shew that the means of improving Ireland are completely within our reach, it would be useless to make the at- tempt, unless we were to overcome that inveterate prejudice which blinds many who look at Ireland through a distempered vision, and with a most superficial information. It will be necessary to show such persons that they are entirely mistaken, when they would charge the nature of Irishmen, and the frame of the Irish mind, with an abandonment that would render her people incapable of improve- ment ; and only calculated to embarrass and oppose. I shall, there- fore, in the course of this paper, call to my aid the most impartial authorities both English and Scotch. There is not any country we know of, of like extent, so well fur- nished, both internally and externally, with natural advantages, as Ireland is. Twenty-nine of the rivers have been found by actual Survey, to be fit and capable of being rendered in a great part navi- gable, affording, together with the canals already made, and with the sinuous line of the sea coasts, an inland and sea navigation of not less than 2,700 miles, and placing about 18,685 square miles equal to 11,985,400 acres, within five miles of some navigation. Providence seems to have intended the river channels for the dis- charge of that superfluous water, which is the immediate cause of the extensive bogs that disfigure Ireland. Therefore by the improvement of the river navigation, the drain- age of the bogs would be mainly effected. The estimate for the river improvements was three millions sterling; but the sum of £1,300,000 of that amount ought to be debited to the bogs; since so much value would arise in favour of the improvement of the latter; and so the two improvements would proceed pari passu. There is proof that many of the Irish rivers at present roll in channels, several feet above their former elevations ; and the obstruc- tions to these channels, whether natural or artificial, have expanded what were once navigable rivers, either into extensive lakes, to the destruction of much valuable land, or turned the courses of such rivers over rapids ; whereby inland navigation and communication have been not only diminished but entirely interrupted. From the nature of bogs, the peaty soil upon the present margins of these erratic rivers has grown up to the same height with them. So that it is evident 188 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. the first step in the reclaiming of the bogs, should, necessarily, be to let down the rivers to their ancient beds, and make these beds the main drains ; and thus by removing river obstructions the cheapest mode of extricating the submerged land, and of drainage, would be adopted : and the discovery of this lusus fluvium may well suggest the remedy. But, in addition to this, an advantage would be found in the manure thrown up, while deepening these natural channels, and much of the expense reimbursed. How much has been the growth of bog from neglecting the rivers, and how much the inland navigation has been injured by such neg- lect may be conceived, when we are informed that the river Blackwater was navigable for 40 miles from its mouth when Lord Orrery wrote about 130 or 140 years ago: but at present it is navigable for not more than 15 miles. And many other rivers formerly furnished a more extensive navigation than they do at present. Were it not too tedious, and perhaps uncalled for, in a discourse, more for general information than minute detail, it would be possible to adduce in- stances enough to excite the greatest encouragement to improve the Irish rivers. But it may be sufficient to awaken the capitalist, to remind him that his capital would be increased, more than an hun- dred per cent, by the simple process of the spade and the pick-axe. I hope it will not be deemed too obtrusive thus to address an En- glish reader, so much and so particularly, upon what may appear to concern Ireland alone; but I know there are several persons who do not consider it irrelevant or uninteresting ; and I can say, one of the greatest pleasures I ever felt, is in perceiving that the Sun of Britain is beginning to dawn upon Ireland, and promises to usher in a bet- ter day, I wish it were come to that point that would enable me to say, " Jam redit et Virgo redeont Saturnia regna" * * * ' * • * " ferrea primam Desiuet, ac toto surget gens aurea inundo." Yes, I hail the approach of Justice, however tardy she may have been ; and the return of a less rigid age to our neglected country — Indeed it cannot be irrelevant, neither should it be uninteresting, when we consider how integrally blended must be the welfare of these two islands : — for one weight and one measure should adjust our common intercourse. Swayed by these considerations, and fully persuaded of English good sense, and a national principle of right and justice, so generally pervading this people — I shall venture further on in that course I was pursuing. To the enterprizing and capitalist I would now address myself, to encourage such persons to cast a thought upon Ireland. I tell them PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. 189 to take a journey of observation, to spy out the riches not the naked- ness of the land. They will find that many of the lands, recoverable from the waters, are almost inexhaustable. I myself saw, in 1817, such land embanked from the river Shannon, which had then yielded its sixteenth or eighteenth crop of corn, without rest, intermission, or manure; and it was then too rich. I have lately enquired, and find that this same spot has been kept in tillage ever since 1817 ; making from 33 to 35 crops in succession, and this land is still rather too rich for many crops. The banks of the same river afford abundant opportunities for valuable speculations. Other rivers the same; and it is a great encouragement to know that the greater number of the rivers, in the central parts of Ireland, have soft, calcareous bot- toms ; every particle of which, when raised in the deepening of these rivers, could be beneficially applied. And while capital would be employed in making the rivers navi- gable, four other great objects would be obtained at one and the same time, and at one and the same expense ; that is, first the sub- merged lands would be recovered : secondly, manure would be accumulated : thirdly, the atmosphere would be freed from much of its superfluous moisture : and, fourthly, much future damage would be prevented to lands, from bogs which are impending over them, ready to burst down and utterly destroy them. To illustrate, at once, the necessity and advantage of river im- provements, I shall relate a very remarkable event. In the month of June, 1821, a bog in the King's Co., containing 500 acres super- ficial, and 40 feet in depth, was set in motion by a pressure of water which could not find a vent by means of the usual currents. This bog moved with astonishing velocity along the valley, and forced before it whole meadows; and in a short time the whole valley for the breadth of a quarter of a mile, was covered from eight to ten feet in depth ; nor could its progress be arrested, until an engineer was employed, who opened the course or channel of the river as an outlet, which ef- fectually lowered the head of water; and the bog then ceased to flow. By this misfortune several hundreds of acres of valuable land were totally lost, and many proprietors ruined. There have been many similar instances, some within my own memory, all arising from the want of river improvements. The three millions sterling, which has been estimated as the sum sufficient for the entire of these improvements, would, if honestly expended, give employment and might prevent the system of begging which costs nearly twice three millions. Indeed, the only objection I can discover, to such employment and expenditure, is that it might 190 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. render needless the creation of those poor laws, which the amateurs in such matters would impose upon Ireland ; and perhaps, it would not be quite agreeable in this age of empiricism, to prevent the ad- ministration of some new invented nostrum in the shape of a pseudo charity ! ! Let it be known to those who are at a loss how to employ their money, that the advantages of deepening the rivers are not only im- mense but certain ; indeed these advantages cannot be adequately estimated. But we ma) be able to form a convincing notion when we know that there are nearly five million acres of waste lands, whose lowest elevation is 203 feet above the level of the sea at low water; with the very best and most appropriate manures : and so highly did that great chemist, Sir H. Davy, think of the improve- ment and the nature of the soils, as to declare them to be, " capable of being rendered masses of manure ; while all trials that have been made, by private individuals prove," he says " the feasibility, not only of the general project, but even afford strong grounds for the belief that any capital expended on the project would, in a very few years, yield a great and increasing interest contributing to the wealth and prosperity of the united kingdom;" — and, he might have added, would insure peace and civilization, by affording so much valuable and grateful employment for a people naturally desirous of industry, and only requiring the call to work to be ever on the alert. Yes, 1 confidently assert that the people of Ireland would be, for they are, when they have the opportunity, an industrious people. Perhaps to meet the ever carping critic and to end all verbal, all unreal, useless distinctions, and disputation, I had better cull them " a hard work- ing people." It has been said, with a kind of attic superiority, that it is the moral drain that is wanting for Ireland. Alas ! how univer- sally true is it, that we are sure to behold the mote that is in our brother's eye, but not to consider the beam that is in our own eye. But let not men flatter themselves that this or that country is more vir- tuous or less sinful. It is, I confess, true, that the crimes of Ireland may be said to be written in crimson, but the crimes of other coun- tries are no less heinous in the sight of heaven, nor less hideous, and disgustful to the moral man and to the devout Christian. It might be well to consider, how far it would be conducive to each man's own welfare to practice for the good of others, if, instead of railing \NO were to strive to ^ive a better tone and temper to the Irish cha- racter, by directing the wild energies of that impetuous people more for their good, we should be laying a good foundation for amending our own ways. Arid we find an example for our imitation in that PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND, 191 great statesman, Sir John Davies, an Englishman, who resided in Ireland for upwards of sixteen years ; and was, perhaps, the only Englishman, of ability, who took TIME to learn the Irish character; he says of that people that " They give a willing ear to all lessons fitted for their improvement in morals, whenever they know that their governors can and will protect them." (page 199.) "When their governors can and will protect them" How remarkable and how perfectly agreeable to experience is the concluding part of this sentence : and the coercion bill of a late date, in its effects, fully verifies the remarkable words of this great man ; for the larger bulk of the people were glad of the act ; and when their agitators, in other words their most persecuting tyrants, were kept in awe, the poor bewildered pea- sant was glad to be freed from his unwilling yoke; and here again we perceive the deep inquiry into the Irish character by this masterly statesman : he says, " In time of peace the Irish are more fearful to offend the law than the English or any other nation whatever." (page 201.) A long experience in the arduous office of the King's attorney General of Ireland enabled him to pronounce that " There is no na- tion of people under the sun that doth love equal and indifferent justice better than the Irish, or will rest better satisfied with the exe- cution thereof, although it be against themselves so as they may have the protection and benefit of the laws when upon just cause they do desire it." (page 213.) May we not take the word of this great and experienced statesman, himself an Englishman, in preference to the unskilful persons who, totally ignorant of Irish character and feeling, and Irish sufferings, would excommunicate the whole nation and consign the people and the country to an immersion in the At- lantic, in order to get what they call a happy riddance of those they will not learn how to govern. But who are these same degenerate Irish who ought to be stigma- tized as the most worthless of the human race ? I hope it will not shock any of us when I mention what Sir J. Davies says of their an- cestors ; his words are these. " If the people in Ireland were to be numbered by the pole, such as are descended of English race would be found more in number than the ancient natives." (page 2.) And again, Davies says of our English ancestors who settled in Ireland, "These English families became more mortal enemies to England than the mere Irish." (pp. 137, 138.) So that we find it is English blood not Irish immortality ; that our own English ancestors, and not the mere Irish, have produced all the evil which requires the moral drain. So far for the authority of Sir J. Davies. 192 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. Another impartial authority, a Scotchman, Mr. Nimmo, an engi- neer of the first rate abilities, and a man who more immediately experienced the true dispositions of the lowest class of the poor unfriended Irishman ; makes this remark — " I am" (he says) " not inclined to think the Irish an indolent people ; I think that, as far as spirit is concerned, I would look with more confidence to the Irish people in maintaining their independence than perhaps I should look to the population of either England or Scotland: I have (he conti- nues) a far higher opinion of the spirit of independence of that peo- ple, than, perhaps, many persons who are immediately concerned with the country." This very Mr. Nimmo was employed by government in making new roads in one of the most wild and miserable districts in Munster. " The people" (he says) " flocked to him for employment, with looks bespeaking the most deplorable poverty and wretchedness ; without sufficient clothing. For 6 years these halfstarved people wereemployed. The money which they earned was carefully managed by themselves, and their savings expended by them on farms, which they took in the vicinity of these roads. They built houses; reclaimed the waste lands; comfort and competency became every where visible; and perfect tranquility prevailed throughout their settlement." Let us then be no longer taunted by the imaginary superiority in good dis- position and morality of this or that country, but let us call for a judicious government that will find employment for the people, for a people not less moral than the English, though differing from them in the species of their faults and crimes. Believe me, if the sins of each people were thrown into opposite scales, the specific gravities of either would not much preponderate. The proportions would be much alike — the qualities somewhat different. I trust, that these two certificates to character may suffice to place the Irish people in the rank of human beings, at least, and to excite the curiosity of those who would be informed of the causes of the present disastrous state of things amongst that ill-fated, ill-used people. Still the capitalist is deterred from speculating on Irish property ; there is a want of security no doubt : but I am convinced that this objection could be removed ; for it has been proved that regular employment, with reasonable wages, punctually and honourably paid, have effected such a reformation amongst the peasantry of Ireland, tnat the most lawless and desperate have been converted into sober, peaceable and industrious husbandmen. PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. 193 All we need for tranquillizing Ireland is a control — Either moral or physical— the latter has too often failed, or has never been steadily adhered to, nor honestly undertaken; causing resistence and reaction. The former — the moral control, has been most surely the fosterer of peace and good will. To assert the moral control, we must approach with skill and consideration ; we must know, firstly, the dispositions — industrious ; secondly, their requirements — secu- rity and encouragement. The poor would themselves undertake a great portion of the im- provements, and make them, eventually, without any expense to the remainder of the community ; that is, if they were allotted portions with such facilities as would secure to them the power of carrying on their improvements without molestation or interruption. If it be asked what would support them while so employed? we answer, they would at least have the same means of support that they have at present; they could be no worse; and, after a few months, their im- provements would yield them an adequate maintenance, and an end would be put to their wants and their fears of future distress. But it is quite possible even to support the poor, during their improvements, without leaving them to their usual resource of begging, or emigra- ting to England for work. Place the poor upon the wastes, grant them leases for seven or fourteen years, and they would agree to pay a rent equivalent to the county cess paid for the improved lands in the county. To illustrate this, — it has been ascertained that a ' certain bog in the Co. Tipperary, comprising 11,517 acres, could be drained for less than two shillings per acre ; i. e., for £1,016. Now if the county would, in the first instance, advance this £l,016. to complete the drainage; when that should be effected, the peasantry would gladly undertake the remainder of the improvements, and pay for the privilege, at least one shilling per acre, equal to £575. 17s. per annum; which would pay off the money advanced, with more than legal interest, in two years : and the county would be thereby enabled to lay on, ever after, a cess upon 11,517 acres, in addition to all former cesses ; and thus gain, ivithout any expendi- ture, an income of not less than £575. 17s. per annum. Likewise the proprietor would gain a rent, after the expiration of the term, from land hitherto quite unproductive to him. So would the parson obtain an additional-tithe. Yet, with all these immense advantages staring us broadly in the face, we see the drainage, the rivers, and the wastes suffered to remain in statu quo, or rather increasing their nuisances in an almost geometric ratio. VOL. in. — 1834. cc 194 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. But, however anomalous this may appear, it can be fully accounted for. I believe the only persons in Ireland, generally speaking, with a capital, will be found to be the poor, not the gentry. The poor with their capital are without influence ; the gentry with their influ- ence are without capital. It is true the poor have no money, but they possess an equally, nay, even a more efficient capital, in their labour; and this capital the Irish peasantry are accustomed to expend upon the soil with a prodigality unexampled, when it is un- derstood that they only are to reap the advantage ; and that they must starve unless they compel the land to produce them food. The Irish peasant will do more than any other person, under like circumstances and privations; and he will accomplish by his labour what the proprietor cannot undertake ; because the proprietor has no capital of any description, and therefore he is obliged to suffer his bogs to lie waste : such a proprietor acquires an indolence and a listlessness, the offsprings of poverty. He has neither heart nor prac- tice to enable him to set the improvements in motion by means of the labour and capital of the peasant. For to effect this requires more knowledge and exertion than such proprietors possess. The levels or falls, we know, must be in the power of the improver. The obstinacy and perverseness of a single intermediate proprietor, if not prevented, would mar the entire process. Family incumbran- ces and family settlements must be compromised, and a legislative enactment obtained. All these are too much and too formidable for an unpracticed and impoverished squire to overcome; and so, from generation to generation, proprietors have no prospect except their dreary wastes. It is, therefore, quite obvious that individuals in Ireland can- not undertake the improvement of extensive bog wastes or rivers. Partial improvements have been made, where circumstances have permitted, with encouraging success. I will mention one, which shows what a litttle money-capital can effect in that unknown country, less known than the Ovahs of Ma- dagascar. The Marquess of Hertford had a bog, containing about 1356 En- glish acres, reclaimed ; it was accomplished for the sum of £2,546, and produced an addition of £500 to his immense rental of £40,000 per annum, in the Co. Antrim : i. e. for an outlay of £l. 17s. 7d. per English acre, he derived about seven shillings per acre permanent rent, from that which had, until then, been totally unproductive. Thus he obtained for about five years pvrchast, what was itomedi- PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. 195 ately worth twenty years purchase, or £10,000, for the expenditure of £2,546 ; and this valuable improvement was effected by means of sin ce'»/g the bed of a river, to the uniform depth of seven feet, through- out a distance of three miles. The case of the Marquess of Hertford is only one of similar sue- cessful efforts of industry, upon the wastes of Ireland ; and may well excite the activity of joint-stock companies. In this money making age it would be no bad speculation to obtain fully four hundred per cent, when not a tenth, perhaps — not a fortieth of such profit could be obtained, out of Ireland, by honest or creditable means. It may well be asked, wherefore are not joint-stock companies formed, while such prospects of wealth are manifest ? I shall leave the question, for the present, to be answered by others; and, perhaps when English capitalists shall inquire further, they may think it time to turn from their Mexican, their bubble speculations, to Pro- Irish societies of improvement, for which I believe I have produced a powerful stimulant, namely, self interest . And the poet's axiom may have its d ue effect " self love but serves the virtuous mind to wake" and " the o'erflowings of the mind take every profit in of every kind. " Many persons have been alarmed at the expense, and fancy that the waste bogs would not make any return for three years at least ; yet Mr. Nimmo himself offered to undertake the reclaiming of Bog, upon the condition of receiving only the first crop as his remuneration. He made an estimate, and found that the profit would be at least one pound sterling per acre. Of course he would not engage for less than several thousand acres, to make it worth his while. He com- puted that two men and one horse can improve five acres of waste in one year, and derive at the same time an adequate subsistence from the produce. There should be no necessity for applying to government for pecuniary aid, but a legislative enactment would be ne- cessary for the reasons I have before stated, upon the same principle that acts of parliament are obtained, in order to facilitate roads and canals; and thus joint-stock companies might go to work with every moral certainty of success : yes, and of security too : for they could employ the whole of the labouring poor; they could pay liberally and punctually; Mr. Nimmo and other engineers have shown how certain would be the security. I have been talking of waste lands : now let me say something about waste waters ; and I believe it could be made to appear, to the satis- faction of the manufacturer and the miller, that their capitals might be profitably employed in Ireland. 196 PRACTICABILITY OF IMPROVING IRELAND. Many of the rivers in Ireland are well calculated to promote both interests. An intelligent engineer has shown, that, in one district of 20 miles in diameter, there are several rivers, with from 40 to 50 feet of fall, upon an average, on every mile of their lengths; and it has been calculated that this fall would produce an effect equal to 11,428 steam engines, of 25 horse power each ; which was, at the time, equal to all the steam engines then in Great Britain. Thus, in one circle of only 20 miles in diameter, nearly as much water power is available for mechanical purposes as all the steam engines of Great Britain were capable of producing. There is a group of mountains and waste lands, comprising about 155,500 acres, within a very few miles of the city of Dublin, upon which we are told there are neither inhabitants nor cultivation. Within this district there is water power sufficient for upwards of 100 mills, so near Dublin that the residents might attend the mar- kets in the metropolis without inconvenience. I am convinced that there are more sites for mills in Ireland than would supply the whole United Kingdom, with a population five-fold its present number. But capital requires security: would you know how to ob- tain it ? Only let the government settle the state, act with a firm mind, and rule with a wholesome coercion. Coercion, in Ireland, would be liberty for the deluded, over- born, and deserted peasantry ; because it would unnerve the arm of the agitator and the assassin. And then security would import ca- pital and beget employment. It follows then that a ruling power is a d&iderahtmfor Ireland. Closely connected with the River improvements are the harbours and sea coasts, I might add, the Fisheries, as they well amalgamate. l>ut on these subjects, I find I must be very brief. In appreciating the advantages of coast improvements, we are to consider what they would procure, Istly, increase of Trade; 2dly, extension of fisheries; 3rdly, diminution of smuggling, 4 thly em- bankment of valuable lands, and 5thly, increase of employment; these results at once point out the vast importance of extending the accommodations, which the natural harbours of Ireland afford. All such improvements, especially on the eastern coast of Ireland, would tend to encourage the commercial intercourse between these islands ; and such intercourse ought to be carefully cultivated, be- cause every person engaged in it, would give additional security to the friendly communication and connection between the two countries. To be concluded in our next. 197 b BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. ROUND THE FOURTH. MY dearly beloved Bachelor, — As I am, by nature, the mildest mannered man that ever chucked a kill-devil into the mouth of a hungry eig hteen-pounder salmon ; you may be assured that I felt exceedingly sorry on noticing the discomposure which my little joke in the S. D. M. occasioned you, and as I know no better way of tranquillizing a mind ill at ease than by ministering to the wants of the stomach, I sent you, as a peace offer- ing, by the Barnstaple Coach, feven dozen of trout consigned to the Editoi^ of the " Museum;" I suppose that the major part have, long since, been committed to the jurisdiction of your gastric juice. Salted any? — Eh? As you have so ingenuously shifted ground and now seem disposed to advocate my side of the question ; I suppose that I need not continue the argumentative part of the business. However I have a remark or two to make on your quip modest — and, as heretofore, in the spirit of Christian kindness. First, then, as to your insinuation about my basket — which, by the way, seems to have proved one of the most efficient baits thrown out in the S. D. M.; — you would degrade it to the size of a pannier — a pannier ? Lord bless your soul, courteous reader! a pannier is nothing to it, many and many a time, when I have been hooking out the fair finny ones, three at once, the bachelor has sat in wy basket, to shelter himself from the wind, reading Tristram Shandy ; whilst I, to accom- modate him, have deposited all my fish on the grass, instead of stowing them away happily in their des- tined wicker house, their last home — one excepted. * A basket, containing seven dozen of trout, was left at the " Museum" office, the upper half of the address card .had been, by some accident, torn oft'; so. that nothing remained but " The Editor of the * South Devon Museum,' Plymouth." Taking it for granted that the fish were intended for ourselves, We, as in duty bound, annihilated them with all convenient speed. ED. VOL. in. — 1834. DD 198 BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. Next, my dear bachelor, touching the polite offer of handing your Billingsgate damsel over to my protec- tion ; I should much rather be excused the intended felicity of her companionship. Some things are no great shakes at second hand, therefore I hope you will see the propriety of withdrawing this motion and show- ing a little more gallantry and honorable conduct to- wards your adopted preceptor. Thirdly, concerning the disposal of the contents of my oft-replenished basket : your fair friend has sorely misled you if you have been persuaded to believe that she is the favoured purchaser ; 'tis no such thing, every fish caught by me — barring the seven dozen sent to you — has been sold,ybr ready money y to a celebrated denizen of the Plymouth fishmarket ; Condy has given a full length portrait of her and has made her the prin- ciple figure in his beautiful picture of the fish-market, which was nearly finished when I was last in your loyal borough. Look at her, prithee, and see if she be not the beau ideal of a fisherwoman worthy of receiving the produce of Theobald's labours : she glances with an eye of disdain at the store of mackerel, plaice, tur- bot, cod, haddock, lobsters, crabs, &c., &c., displayed before her, feeling glory and great joy in the conside- ration that a much more valuable store awaits her. I feel wonderfully sorry that you have such ill luck amongst the ladies, as your last paragraph intimates ; but as there are two or three uncommonly amiable girls here, I should have the greatest pleasure in introducing you to them ; one, to be sure is a milliner, but I sup- pose that consideration would not depreciate her worth in your eyes : and as to the utility of the introduction, we need not consult Miss Martineau. How is it, my dear bachelor, that you who profess so amiable a system of logic, should let us perceive that your heart does contain a little spice of the " envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness " which impreg- nate humanity more or less? Theobald observed that he would be inclined to rank, among the blessings of matrimony, such ratings as were bestowed by wives on BACHELORS' BLESSEDNESS. 199 their husbands for wandering in naughty ways ; you say, " May Theobald never have to regret the want of such ratings;" i. e. in plainer English, (for I suppose you would not consider Theobald's bringing his basket home full offish to sell for his, intended , wife and children, in prospect, naughtiness) you would be glad to see him ever and anon, up to the neck in some very especial devilry ; however he will keep himself clear if it, were it only for the sake of having a good humoured shake- hands with — not " kick at" — your lucubrations here- after to be published. Wherein it is my design always to admit of your beiogj£r$f best, since you have so kindly intimated that I shall come off only second best. You seem to turn restive and a little pathetic withal when you allude to a certain mode of drawing inferences ; but, my dear fellow, do you not think, that you have shown considerable ingenuity that way yourself: who- ever gives a joke ought to be able to take one. I suppose that your well known and much to be admired modesty never so far deserted you as to allow of your indulging in the delusion that your "bevy of destruc- tion ists," your "burning his papers "to make them look tidy, your "deluge," the "delights," the "beauti- ful fable for the Arabian nights," together with two or three little inferences in your last paper — very pretty, and very respectable bounces — would be considered by any of the S. D. M. readers as matters of sober earnest. As you tell us in very sentimental and touching terms that the propensity of philoprogenitiveness is within your head, and the corresponding developement with- out; I hope you will acknowledge my right to the hil- lock of benevolence when I state that I will give you the benefit which you claim on the score of being in want of a carpet, and I will also admit your superior judgment as to the mode of cleansing a floor; but the " Deluge" my dear fellow, the " DELUGE," do not make it universal for the sake of THEOBALD. Tavistock. 200 WARBSTOW BARROW. To the Editor. (Private and confidential.) My dear , Thin skinned though your bachelor be, I dare say he is a clever fellow; and I hope you will introduce us to one another when I next visit your town. In consideration of the tenuity of his epidermis you will perceive that I have dealt gently with him in my replication to his reply : do you think he would write a paper on the same subject every alternate month ; if so, de- pend on me for ditto; only stop our career when you think we have verged ad nauseam. I hear his wedding day is fixed for the 14th instant, is this a fact ? Will you call on , and ask him if he can lend me two kill-devils; the top swivel of mine was broken in my last trolling expedition ; enclose them to Richard Darke, Esq., Tavistock, for me. I am about to visit Prince Town for a few days. Yours as of yore, P.S. How did he like the trout ? As we see nothing private or confidential in the above, except the names, we hope for "Theobalds" pardon in publishing it. EDITOR. WARBSTOW BARROW. The wide moors of Cornwall are dotted by gorsegrown hillocks. These are se- pulchral mounds of the old dead. They still bear the Cornish name of Barrows or Graves. Did the wild blast of battle sound Of old, from yonder lonely mound ? Race of Pendragon ! did ye pour To this dear soil your votive gore ? Did stern swords cleave along the plain The loose rank of the roving Dane ? Or Norman charger's iron tread Smite the meek daisy's Saxon head? The wayward winds no answer breathe — No legend cometh from beneath, — Of chief, with good sword at his side, Or Druid in his tomb of pride. One quiet bird that comes to make Her lone nest in the tangled brake, — A nameless flower — a crested fern, — Lo ! the dim Warrior's stoned urn. Hark ! on the wild wing of the blast, The future echoing to the past ! "Thy scenes, oh nature! glorious still. — The voices cease upon the hill ! " The Author of" Records of the Western 201 THE CORNISH LANGUAGE. Mu. EDITOR, — Many of your readers, though per- haps not all, are aware, that the Cornish are some of the remains of the ancient Celtic inhabitants of this is- land— of those who have left the Cromlegh and the stone circle, of which so many specimens still exist on our uncultivated mountain districts, In fact the Celtic tribes, as well as their monuments, have taken refuge in the mountains; and it is in the Highlands of Scot- land ; the hilly parts of Cumberland ; Wales, and Corn- wall that their posterity still occupy the soil. The Scotch Highlander and the Welchman probably do not come within the scope of the " Museum ;" but the Cornishman is our next neighboury and we feel a warm interest in all that belongs to him. The Celtic language is still spoken in Wales and in the Scotch Highlands ; and a dialect of the same was formerly the colloquial speech of Cornwall. We do not very well know how long it has been generally superseded by the English ; the last individual who could speak it freely, died 30 or 40 years since ; and very few understood it 100 years ago. It seems, indeed, to have gone very much out, before the invention of printing ; as no old printed books exist in the language. Some old manuscripts have been printed of late years; but unfortunately the Cornish seem never to have felt that pride in their lan- guage which distinguishes the Welch and Highlanders ; and the consequence is, that very little of it remains, even in manuscript. One individual, Mr. Davy, of St. Just, is said still to retain a great many Cornish words, and some phrases, not to be found in the small collections that have been printed ; and with him these must pass away, unless some person be at the pains to get them preserved by the press. If any friend of yours, resident in that neighbourhood, will obtain all that Mr. Davy will communicate, and transmit it to you, your pages may yet rescue it from oblivion. The Cornish language, however, differed considerably from the others mentioned, in the oldest manuscripts 202 THE CORNISH LANGUAGE. known : and underwent a much greater change, in more recent times. What may be distinguished as modern Cornish, (meaning that of the last two centuries) con- tained a great deal of Anglo-Saxon and English, only somewhat modified in pronunciation. It has now so completely passed away, that very many, perhaps a majority, of the natives of Cornwall do not know that a language different from English was ever spoken in their county. Forty years ago, Dr. Pryce collected what he could of its remains, and printed them in the form of a gram- mar, vocabulary, and collection of pieces. Since that, Mr. Da vies Gilbert, a name dear to science as well as to Cornwall, has obtained and printed a few more pieces and fragments. Perhaps the transfer of a few of the specimens to your pages, which will fall into the hands or many who 'would not be likely to meet with Pryce's or Gilbert's books ; may not only interest your Cornish readers, but entertain many of those on our own side the water. First, the numerals. 1, Oncn, 10, Deag, 30, Deagwar niganz, 2, Deau, 11, Ednack, (ten upon twenty) 3, Trei, 12, Dowthack, 40, Duganz, (two 4, Padzar, 13, Tretheck, twenties) 5, Pemp, 14, Padzarthack, 50, Deag ha duganz, 6, Wheh, 15, Pemthack, 60, Tri-iganz, 7, Seith, 16, Whehthack, 80, Padzar iganz, &c. 8, Eath, 20, Ijjanz, 100, Canz, 9, Naw, 1000, Mill. Names of some places in the vicinity. Calstock, hard oak, Trematon, the royal town, Liskeard, a fortified court, Sheviock, dwelling by the oak ri- Lostwithiel, the lofty palace, ver or river of oaks, Penlee, the lesser head land, Linkinhorn, the church on the ri- Pentillie, the head of the family, sing of the iron hill. Quethioc, the weaver's place. Cornish dialogue. Metten dah tha why, Good morning to you. Elo why clapior Kernuack ? Can you speak Cornish ? THE CORNISH LANGUAGE. 203 Me ellam, Fatla ello why giel ? Dah, durdalatha why, Pan a priz rag hearne ? Priz dah, Mose tha an mor tha catchah Tedna cans mil war bar, Coria an stuff stenes tha an stampes, Ry tha stener deck pens en blethan, Whelas tees tha trehe kesow, Ha auel teag, Bene tu gana, I can. How do you do ? Well, I thank you. What price for pilchards ? A good price. Go to sea to catch fish. Draw in a hundred thousand toge- Carry the tin stuff to the [ther. stamping mill. Give a tinner ten pounds a year. Look men to cut turf. A fine day, farewell. A marriage licence, in rhyme. Drake, proanter East, the Toby Drake, parson of St. Just, to Tho- Trethell, mas Trethell. Demytho Jowan an dean Tha Agnez an bennen Rag beneas an gy En eglez ny Zelio Tri, Ha hemma urta ve, rago why. Ha henna demithe gy. Ma leiaz gwreage Lack a vel zeage, Gwell gerres, vel Kommeres : Ha ma leiaz bennen Pokare au guenen; Eye vedn gwerraz dege teez Dendle peath arn beaze. Marry John the man To Agnes the woman, For they are banned In our church three Sundays, And this from me to you. And then marry them. There are many wives Worse than grains, (after brewing) Better left than taken : And there are many women Like the bees ; They will help bring men To get the wealth of the world . A conjugal proverb. Kensa blethan, byrla a'baye, The first year, hug and kiss, Nessa blethan, lull a'laye, . The second year, lulla-by, Tridgya blethan, comero ha doga, The third year, " take and bring," Peswarra blethan, mollath war ef The fourth year, a curse on him reeg dry hy uppa. that brought her here. Advice. Rowsa nebaz, ha rowsa da, Mez rowsa nebaz an gwella. Speak little and speak well, But to say little is best of all. 204 DREAMS OF OUR EARLY DAYS. Farther advice. An lavor goth ewe lavar gwir. The old saying is a true saying, Ne vedn nevera doas vAs a tavaz Never will come good from a ton- re hir. gue too long. Bes den heb tavaz a gollas e dir. But a man with no tongue shall lose his land. This is pei haps enough, of a dead language for one number; if you have spare room, I may furnish you with a Cornish story, lor the next, or a subsequent one. J. P. . DREAMS OF OUR EARLY DAYS. Dreams of our early days ! shall ye no more Rise on our weary vision : can ye spare Not even a single solitary gleam ? 'Twould make the darknrss of old age less drear; As a stray beam of morning's cheering sun — Shed for a moment through disparting clouds — Gladdens one spot upon the gloomy sea. O ! extasies of childhood ! why confine Your soothing blandishments to life's young dawn ; Ere Pain hath set her seal upon the brow And ceaseless Care hath ploughed the pallid cheek Deeper than lengthened years ? \N ill ye still flee, Like lovely phantoms startled at the day, From Manhood's thoughtful gaze ? Visions of youth! Why circle round the soul, as yet untried In the severe-humiliating truth Of sterner life? Why lend your soothing power To the strong spirit while before it lies The world — a seeming paradise? Old Age Silent or sighing in its slow decay And Manhood struggling through the tide of fate Now on the surface — now o'erspent below, May better claim your phantasies of joy — Your fair illusions — your sweet silver dreams. FRANZ. 205 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. Resumed from page 165. ORD ER — PASSERES. The rose coloured Ouzel, and Bohemian Chat- terer, are birds of which only one or two speci- mens have been noticed here. Genus, Slurnus, Starling. Sp. 44. St. vulgaris, common Stare. Assembles in large flocks and frequents our fields during win- ter. Stares rarely breed in this county, whilst in Oxfordshire, Middlesex &c., they are known to breed regularly in old buildings and holes of trees. Sp. 45. St. cinclus, water Ouzel. About rivers ; rather scarce. Genus, Muscicapa, Flycatcher. Sp. 46. M. grisola, spotted Flycatcher. Common in summer ; seen perched on some conspicuous branch in orchards &c., and darting occasion- ally forwards to seize insects on the wing. Genus, Alauda, Lark. Sp. 47. A I. arvensis, sky Lark. Common. Sp. 48. A I. arborea, wood Lark. Pretty common. Its song has been mistaken for that of the night- ingale. Sp. 49. Al. pratensis, tit Lark. Very common on heaths and on the shores. Sp. 50. AL cainpestris, rock Lark. On the rocky coast pretty far out. Genus, Hirundo, Swallow. Sp. 51. H. apus, Swift. Not uncommon near old tow- ers &c. Sp. 52. H. rustica, Swallow. Very common. Sp. 53. H. urbica, Martin. These birds sometimes change their old residence for new spots. At present their nests are seen at Knackersknowle and a few at Plymstock and Oreston. Common at Plympton. Sp. 54. H. riparia, bank or sand Martin. Said to be common here. VOL. III. — 1834. EE 206 NATURAL HISTORY OP THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. Genus, Caprimu/gus, Goatsucker. Sp. 55. Cap. Europaus, " Night-Jar" or " Night Crow." Nut scarce. I have heard it during evenings near Plymouth. Genus, Motacilla, Warbler. Wagtail, &c. Sp, 56. M. rnbecula, Redbreast or Robin. Common. Sp. 57. M. ph&tiiairus, Redstart. Scarce. Sp. 58. M. salicaria, sedge Warbler. Chiefly on Dart- moor about swamps. Sp. 59. M. navia, (Gmeiin) Grasshopper, Warbler, or Lark. Rare in this district. I once heard it on a cultivated piece of land near Two Bridges. Sp. 60. M. atricapilla, Black Cap. Rather scarce. I have seen it at Plymstock and elsewhere. Sp. 61. M. hortensis, (Montagu) Petty-chaps, garden Warbler. Not common. Its song is of a su- perior order and not unlike that of the Thrush. Sp. 62. AL sylvia, Whitethroat. Common. Sp. 63. M. provincialis, Dart ford Warbler; rather scarce. It is not generally known that the dis- covery of this bird, in Devonshire, was effected by R. Julian, Esq., of Dernford ; although Sir Wm. Etford, who received his information from Mr. Julian, obtained a prize from the Royal Society for his assumed disclosure. Sp. 64. M. modnlaris, hedge Warbler, hedge Sparrow ; very common. Sp. 65. M. regnlus, golden crested Wren; common. Its small size prevents its being more generally known and seen ; but its peculiar note intimates its presence in most orchards and woods. Sp. 66. M. trochi/us, yellow Wren,middle yellow Wren, common. Sp. 67. M. sibilatrix, (Gmeiin) wood Wren, greatest w. wren ; according to Dr. Moore frequents our woods from April to October. Sp. 68. M. hypolais, (Beckstem) Chiff-chaff, lesser Petty-chaps ; common. Sp. 69. M. troglodytes, common Wren ; very numerous. Sp. 70. M. alba, white Wagtail ; common. NATURAL HISTORY OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 207 Sp. 71. M. flava, yellow Wagtail; in Summer only; not uncommon. Sp. 72. M. boarula, grey Wagtail ; chiefly here in win- ter, at spring-heads. Sp. 73. M. rubicola, stone Chat ; on barren spots, es- pecially on Dartmoor. Sp. 74. M. rubetra, whin Chat ; rather scarce. Sp* 75. M. tfnanthe, Wheatear ; common, in summer, in stone quarries, on old walls, and on the sea coast ; as at Catdown and Mount Batten. The Nightingale and reed Wren are doubtful frequenters of our neighbourhood. Genus, Columba, Pigeon. Sp. 76. Co. palumbus, wood Dove, or wood Pigeon; pretty common in woods. Sp. 77. Co. anas, stock Dove ; in flocks in the winter only. The rock Dove and turtle Dove are extremely rare visitors. ORDER — GALLINJB. Genus, P has? anus, Pheasant, &c. Sp. 78. Ph. Colchicus, common Pheasant ; numerous. The common Fowl is a domesticated and an exotic species. Genus, Tetrao, Grouse. Sp. 79. T. tetrix, Black Cock, Black Game ; now un- common ; chiefly on the moor. Sp. 80. T.perdix, common Partridge ; common. Sp. 81. T. coturnix, Quail ; uncommon. Chiefly here during summer. The Peacock, Guinea Hen or Galeny, and Turkey are exotic birds, but now domesticated like the common Fowl, here and in most parts of the world. ORDER — GRALL&. The great and little Bustards are doubtful frequenters of this district. Genus, Charadrius, Plover. Sp. 82. Ch. pluvialis, golden Plover ; sold in abundance in the market in severe winters. 208 ON FEMALE ACQUIREMENTS. Sp. 83. Ch. morinellns, Dotterel ; found on Dartmoor ; but rare. Sp. 84. Ch. hiaticula, ring Plover or sea Laik ; common at Oreston, and similar situations, about autumn and in the winter. Sp. 85. Ch. adicnemus, thick-knee Norfolk Plover ; rare. The long-legged Plover (Ch. himantopus,) is a straggling occasional visitor. The Sander- ling ( Ch. calidris,) is also extremely rare in this neighbourhood. PHILOPHYSICUS. ON FEMALE ACQUIREMENTS. MR. EDITOR, — Having read, at various times, in your Magazine, letters on the subject of single blessedness, between a " Bachelor" and a correspondent signing himself " Theobald," I am induced to offer a few remarks ; though being unaccustomed to writing, I feel much diffidence at undertaking the task. I have felt some degree of surprise and, indeed I may almost say, indignation, that the fair sex as you are pleased to term us, for I am one of them, have read the observations of a bachelor without boldly coming forward in their own defence ; I regard it as a duty incum- bent upon the oppressed or neglected to state their grievances and solicit redress; and wish that some more competent individual had undertaken the office : perhaps many may have considered the ob- servations of the bachelor as mere effusions of spleen ; which an- best allowed to cool down of themselves ; others, perhaps, from ;» feeling of modesty, or at least, you will allow me the use of the term, delicacy, have been deterred from espousing their own cause. But it is more than likely that their education has not been such as to place them at all on a footing with men of talent, or to enable them to enter into controversy with them To your correspondent "Theobald" I have very little to say, ex- cept that I am rather inclined to doubt his candour. I cannot help thinking that he is too passionately fond of fishing ever to be passion- ately fond of a wife. I entertain nevertheless a due sense of gratitude towards him for having voluntarily come forward in our behalf. I dare say he will make a good husband to a wife \vho could be con- ON FEMALE ACQUIREMENTS. 209 tented with part of his heart, I address myself more particularly to the bachelor, in order to induce him to reflect before he again puts pen to paper, to assert the superiority of single selfish existence over that reciprocal interchange of affection, which is one of the attri- butes of the Divine Being ; and I would begin by asking him who first modelled and formed his mind while it was yet tender and plas- tic, and instilled into it the first germs of those intellectual acquire- ments which were destined, by subsequent extension and cultivation, to adorn his life ? Who watched with anxious solicitude his first dawnings of reason, in order immediately to seize and direct them into a channel which was ultimately to tend to his happiness ? Who I ask, did all this but the creature from whom he appears to shrink with apathy and disgust? Again, could any one possessing a spark of philanthrophy, or even of reflecting principle within him, ever make use of the epithet squalling brats, coupled with a feeling of contempt ? Will he not remember that he was once one of those creatures and that the great author of the universe has destined that every human being shall pass through this incipient stage of existence before he can possibly arrive at manhood ? Let him for a moment reflect on the names of Cicero, Homer, &c. ; or, to come nearer to our own time, Milton, Shakespeare, Priestley, Newton, &c.? and persuade himself that these were once " squalling brats." Let him read the expression of Christ, " Suffer little children, and forbid them not to come unto me : for of such is the kingdom of hea- ven," and then speak contemptuously of this intellectual morning of life. When we reflect on the high degree of responsibility thrown upon woman, for it must be allowed that upon her devolves almost the whole of the education of man's earlier years, at which time the greatest attention should be paid to the developement of the reason- ing faculties ; I do think that they should meet with a greater degree of regard than is their actual lot at present: when I say regard, I mean that a greater degree of attention should be paid to their edu- cation. Women are neglected and, I will say, in many cases, wil- fully neglected ; they are, by some, treated or apparently considered as mere secondary beings, destined only for the amusement or gratification of man in his hours of relaxation, instead of companions and associates in his various studies, for which their capabilities render them quite efficient; though, I regret to say, they are seldom or never educated with the latter object in view. Taking this view of the female world, there may be some slight excuse for the bache- lor's feeling a degree of antipathy to marriage : his mind has been 210 ON FEMALE ACQUIREMENTS. cultivated, and that perhaps highly; he would, then, naturally, in entering upon the matrimonial state, like to meet with a partner whose mind and acquirements might respond to his own ; but this is rarely found, and in saying this I do not mean entirely to vindi- cate our sex ; because I know that the time which is at the disposal of most of them might generally be turned to much better advantage than it usually is; and that they might, by their own private exer- tions and application, improve and cultivate their minds to a very great extent, and thereby supply, in a great measure, the deficiency caused by the gross neglect of those entrusted with the care of their earlier education. The only means by which the intellectual improvement of the female part of the community can be facilitated, is by allowing them the same opportunities of acquiring information as men enjoy : they should be allowed more of their society and that too during the no- bler employment of the mind. They should not be debarred, as is the case not only in this town, but in many others from attending lectures* or scientific and literary institutions, but should be admit- ted with such restrictions as decorum might prescribe; for frequent- ly, and indeed very generally, the effect of these institutions on mo- ral and intellectual improvement is very beneficial. From the collision and interchange of sentiment and opinion, which take place at these meetings, much valuable information is elicited ; and the advantages consequently arising from this are highly valuable; yet from all these benefits we are excluded. How then, I would ask, can females, let them be ever so desirous of acquiring information, ever hope to keep pace with the other sex in the cultivation of their minds when debarred from participating such privileges ? Women, it is said, by some, have neither brains nor capacity to receive or estimate instruction of this kind, but this, Sir, has yet to be proved, — and I query very much if any man, whose education had been as limited as that of the generality of females, would exhibit a much higher or more expanded degree of intellect than they do. But granting, however, that they are at present, in some measure, unfit for this species of instruction ; whence, I would ask, does this unfitness arise? is it from any incapacity of their mind, or neglect of their own improvement? or is it not rather the fault of those who possess such numerous advantages and steadfastly withhold them? As proofs of this, I cite the names of Mitford, Barbauld, Carter, * We are happy to inform our fair correspondent that the members of the Athe- naeum have it in contemplation to deliver a course of lectures to the ladies during the ensuing months. ED. ON FEMALE ACQUIREMENTS. 211 Somerville, Hemans, Harriet Martineau, &c., &c. ; who are exam- ples of the high degree of cultivation of which the female mind is susceptible; and this too even under the disadvantages I have stated. Another objection, and a very silly one, urged against women, is that they have a great propensity to prattle ; since this is almost proverbial let it be granted. Of what does their prattle generally consist ? absurdity, frivolity, or scandal ; I say it fearlessly, though some of my young friends would rate me soundly for the assertion. But why is this? — they have little else to talk about; their minds having been kept deficient of that solid and useful acquirement, to prattle about which would be productive not only of benefit to them- selves, but of pleasure to the mind of any educated man. Let women be but educated to the same degree as men ; let them have the same facilities of acquiring information ; and I hesitate not to say that they will be found not only fully to appreciate the value of these advantages, but, by combining a well educated mind with feelings the most tender, and affections the most fervent, that nature has emplanted in the breasts of any of the human species, amply to repay the assistance afforded them, by constituting the greatest bles- sing of the life of man. To the Bachelor I shall not attempt to say much on the subject of matrimonial felicity; he appears to have taken an extreme case: I cannot imagine that he would readily fix his affection on any indi- vidual of the character he describes. He would deserve to have his apartment u deluged with water," his papers burned, &c., if he could, with his fyes open, unite himself to one who would have so little regard for his interest and comfort as to act in this way : as for the " curtained lectures," at which he hints, the best of wives would but show her candour and regard in telling him of a fault; for I appre- hend he must commit one before subjecting himself to this ordeal. Men are generally led, in selecting partners, to associate them- selves with those whose minds are most nearly assimilated to their own ; and when this is the case, I do not readily see any source of subsequent unhappiness. It is well for humanity that there do not exist many persons who, like the Bachelor, imagine that they contain within themselves the grand source of their own happiness, and are incapable of deriving it from others ; this world would then be a cold, unsociable spot ; and would exist a miserable exception to that beautiful harmony and mutual dependence which pervades the remainder of the universe. CAROLINE. 212 EXTENSIVE VIEW. OUR radius of vision extends along the earth's surface, to a dis- tance proportional to the square root of our elevation above the sea level ; and objects are distinctly seen in proportion to the transparen- cy of the atmosphere ; however, it is not from the highest stations that the most beautiful and extensive views are obtained. A spec- tator on the summit of TEtna, Teneriffe, or Pico, looks down on a carpet of clouds and condensed vapours ; whereas, from mountain summits of moderate elevation, his eye may range to the farthest verge of the horizon, through a transparent atmosphere, and revel in the beauties of nature displayed on the earth beneath. Of this kind is Mount St. Angelo, in the N. E. corner of the Bay of Naples. Its rocky summit is 4,280 feet above the level of the Bay, and 500 feet higher than the crater of Mount Vesuvius ; a little, white, uninhabited hermitage is perched on the highest point, from which a spectator enjoys one of the most extensive, pleasing, and classical views imaginable. Let him rise with the dawn, ascend the mountain by the path leading from Castell a mare, and reach the summit if possible by nine o'clock, just as the land wind dies away, and before the sea breeze brings its load of vapours to obscure his view. Let him look seaward, and behold the island of Ischia float- ing on the waters, with its towering but extinguished volcano, its vine clothed sides and party coloured cliffs : on the right lies the lowty isle of Procida, close to the lofty Cape Misenum, where the pious /Eneas buried Hector's unfortunate trumpeter : near this place may be seen a few straggling but white cottages, among broken arches, ruined aqueducts, and crumbling tombs, extending around an inlet of the bay, now known by the cognomen ofMareMorto; formerly a famous Roman naval station, and adjacent to the Elysian Fields, of Virgil. A little farther on rise the ruins of Baix, " beet- ling o'er the Bay," with the old castle, ruined temples, baths, and crumbling cliffs : then comes the Lucrine lake, shaded by hills of the richest verdure, and the Avernus, whose internal hemispherical sides are adorned with natural and artificial beauty, from the lips of the ancient crater down to the transparent waters of the lake, now well stocked with fish and fowl. A little farther to the right, rises Monti Novo, and the higher hills which of yore produced the famous Falernian wine; with, here and there, the deep crater of an extin- guished Volcano, now filled with luxuriant vegetation ; then behold the town of Pozzoli, with part of the ruins of Caligula's bridge running into the sea, and behind it the Soltafara, with its white sides and sul- EXTENSIVE VIEW. 213 phureous fumes — behold the gay and glittering city of Naples, with its mole, its ships, its churches, theatres, palaces, and splendid poor- house, all admirably contrasted with the finely wooded Camaldoni. Capo di Monti, and all the rural and picturesque beauty of the neigh- bouring hills, the plain of Campania, in the rear and the Apennine ridges in the distance. Look again to the right and see Vesuvius rising from the plain below, with its yawning crater, convent, hermi- tage, scorched cone, and black lava-currents, extending from the summit down its sides and into the bay of Naples, forming rocky promontories on the seashore. Here every colour and every propor- tion of light and shade appears in harmonious contrast, while the modern towns of Portici and Torre del Greco skirt the bay, and rest on the ruins of Herculaneum and many a Roman villa! Look down on this side of Vesuvius and you will descry among yon clustering vines a huge heap of rubbish, an amphitheatre, and other extensive ruins; while ever and anon a buffalo cart will be seen to discharge its load of ashes and rubbish ; that is Pompeii i Once a gay city and seaport, till overwhelmed by an eruption from Vesuvius; see the silvery stream of the Sarnus winding round the side of Vesuvius, and me- andering through the gardens in its way to the bay. Castell a mare the ancient Stabiar, lies beneath your feet, hid by the bluff projec- tions of the mountain, on which you stand. But observe yonder muleteer loading his beast with snow from the leaf covered pit, within a few yards of your position, his load is destined to cool the throats of the thirsty Neapolitans. The wood cutter is availing himself of the laws of nature and of mechanics, in conveying the produce of his labour from this elevated region down to the sea; he has fixed a series of long ropes, in a zig-zag manner, across the ravines ; forming a sort of inclined plane, down which his faggots descend by their own gravity to the sea shore. Yonder troop of asses is laden with lime, burnt on the top of this mountain. Cast your eyes to the N. K. and look down on the plain of Paestum, with its gigantic ruins; once a fertile and populous district, but now a luxuriant wilderness. Far to the eastward, promontories are seen receding from each other, from Amalfi along the gulf of Salerno. The eye delights to linger on the bird's-ei,e view about Sorrento, Cape Campanella, and the Island of Capri, the solitary and sensual retreat of the Emperor Tiberius; the ruins of whose Palace still crown its summit; — hun- dreds of ships, barks and boats traverse the bay of Naples : while far out at sea, the horizon seems to kiss the sky and the top of Stromboli (the pharos of the Tuscan Sea) is just seen peering out of the water, and capped with a dark round cloud of condensed vapours from its own ever active volcano. Sis BAD. 214 THE SWAN. Why are the sweet tones of thy voice unheard, Amid thy native streams, thou gliding bird ? Will not the fountains of thy music flow Till Death unseal them in that breast of snow ? Heed well the sign ! Oh ! not to Life belong The gladdening thoughts that wake my voice of Song ! When Pain can thrill and arrow cleave no more Blithe are my hymns along the reedy shore ! The Author of " Records of the Western Short. " COME TO THE WEARY ONES. Come to the weary ones Cloud -cinctured Night! Wreathe for their resting place Dreams of delight : Seal up in placidness Each weary eye ; O ! yield to the sleepers What life may deny. Come to the loving ones Star-jewelled Ni^ht! Shine on their lonely walks Silently bright ; Breathe but a gentle wind O'er their fond way, Let not a weeping cloud Gloom where they stray. Come to the mournful ones O! soothing Night! Shade with thy kindly wing, Pale Sorrow's blight : Strew on the fevered brain Sleep's quiet balm : Stay till the throbbing heart Sink into calm. FKANX. 215 THE GRAVE OF THE INDIAN KING. " When the hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food at noon - 'Some warrior rests here,' he will say, ' and my fame shall live in his praise.'" OSSIAN. NATURE seems to have made the fair west in one of her sweetest anil kindest moods. Beyond the Onondaga hills, for a long distance, there are no mountains lilting their bleak and rugged summits to the clouds to break the landscape ; no beetiing'cliffs and shagged precipices frowning upon the startled beholder; no dark and gloomy ravines, " horrid with fern, and intricate with thorn ;" but the whole region, for hundreds of miles, presents a scene of placid and unin- terrupted beauty, varied only by gentle hills and moderate declivities, broad plains and delightful lakes — fit residences for the Naiads — and traversed by rivers, which wend their way tranquilly to the north, until, by one mighty bound they leap from the table-land into the embrace of the majestic Ontario, and are lost in the immensity of its waters. But, of all the lesser lakes with which this charming coun- try has been rendered thus picturesque and delightful, Skaneatelas is deemed by all travellers the most beautiful. Its very name, in the language of the proud race who once ranged the forests, and boun- ded along its shores with the lofty tread of heaven's nobility, or dart- ed across its bright surface in the light canoe with the swiftness of an arrow, signifies the LAKE OF BEAUTY. It is true that, being thus divested of the wildness and grandeur of mountain scenery, the stran- ger's attention is less powerfully awakened at the first view, than if it had been cast among the adamantine towers of a more rugged re- gion ; but there is in the country by which it is surrounded a quiet loveliness, an air of repose, eminently calculated to please and to captivate the heart. The lands descend on all sides in a gentle slope to the margin of the lake, forming as it were a spacious amphitheatre having a fountain of liquid silver sparkling in its bosom. Its shores are alternately beautified by the hand of man with cultivated fields, adorned by the living verdure of the meadow, or fringed with banks of flowers ; while to augment the charm of variety, some of Nature's own stately picturings are left, consisting of groves of the primitive forest, here towering aloft in giant pride, and there overhanging the shore, and dipping their pendant branches in the clear cool ele- ment, in which every object is reflected with fresh and vivid distinct- ness. Combining so many of the elements of beauty, few spots in the broad map of the occidental world have equal pretensions to admiration. Still, however, in the eye of untutored man, how much more beautiful must the Skaneatelas have been before the dense 216 THE CRAVE OF THE INDIAN KING. forests in which it was embosomed full, as though struck by the wand of a magician; when it l;iy amidst the a\vful stillness and ve- nerable grandeur which prevailed around — the dark foliage, the rich and solemn covering of the woods, giving it an air of indescribable magnificence and beauty, in perfect keeping with the moody and contemplative habits of the mighty chieftains of the wilderness. The attractive sheet of water which we have thus briefly described is sixteen miles long, and from one to two miles in breadth. The village which takes its name from the lake, is pleasantly situated upon a little plain at its western extremity, elevated but a few feet above the pebbly beach, upon which the little crisped billows break so gently as scarcely to give sound enough to hush an infant to repose. The view is charming at all times; but nothing can be more delight- ful, more exquisitely beautiful, than the prospect from this lovely village on a cool summer's evening, when the Queen of night throws her silver mantle over the sparkling waters, lighting them up like a mirror of surpassing brightness. Behind the village the l.md rises, by an easy ascent, into a hill of moderate height, upon the summit of which an open grove of primitive forest trees, to the extent of some fifty acres, has been suffered to remain by the owner — an Englishman, who has thus far followed the westward march of empire. From this elevated spot the prospect is enlarged, and if possible yet more attractive than below. It includes a wide sweep of fertile country, embracing sections both \\ild and cultivated, farm houses and country seats, fields diversified witii gardens, and meadows, orchards, copses, and groves. Near the centre of this forest rises a little mound, cover- ed with wild and luxuriant herbage, like a Druid's grave; and which, time immemorial, has been respected by the pale-faces, who have succeeded the dusk) lords to whom the Creator originally granted the fee-simple of the soil, as the lone and hallowed sepulchre of an Indian king. Indeed, tradition has invested it with more interest than often attaches to the last narrow habitation even of those who may have figured largely in story or in song. Be mine the humble task to gather up the history of the sacred spot, and rescue the fleet- ing tradition alike from the danger of exaggeration or the yawning repository of oblivion. The district in which the incidents of our drama occurred is situated in the heart of what was formerly the territory of the live Nations of Indians — the Iroquois of the French, and the Mingoes of the early English history. These nations consisted of the Mohawks, the Oneydoes, the Onondagoes, the Cayugas, and the Senekas. They •were a noble race of the American aboriginals, and have been appro- THE GRAVE OF THE INDIAN KING. 217 i»!y designated as Romans of the western world. Their league -bled a confederated republic, although they had not advanced much beyond the first stage in the science of government. Their conquests, like those of the Romans, were pushed to a vast extent so that, by the right of inheritance, or of arms, their subject territory extended from the mouth of the Sorel, on the St. Lawrence, up the great chain of lakes to the Mississippi, thence to the junction of the Ohio with this Father of Rivers, thence south to the country of the Creeks and Cherokees, and back on the whole extent, from the ocean to the lakes. Like the Romans, they added to their strength by incorporating their vanquished foes into their own tribes ; and, of the prisoners thus adopted, those who behaved well were treated as though of their own blood. If wise at the council-fire and brave on the war-path, they were advanced to posts of honour. Like the Ro- mans moreover, they were ambitious to extend their conquests, even when their power and influence were on the decline. They cherished a high and chivalrous sense of good faith and honour, according to their own rude notions ; and carried on a war of thirty years for a single infraction of the rights of the calumet. Their power was great, and their name a terror to other savage nations, long after the Whites had planted themselves over a wide space of the country. The grand councils of this powerful confederacy were held in the deep and romantic valley of the Onondaga, where, as they believed, " there was from the beginning a continual fire kept burning. " The Five Nations, moreover, being the friends and allies of the English, were consequently much of their time involved in hostilities with the French, then in possession of the Canadas, and also with the Indians, who had been induced to adhere to them by the Jesuits ; for ** The Holy Order of Jesus " had even thus early insinuated its priest- ly emissaries into every tribe. Indeed, their fidelity to the English was sometimes put to the severest trials; and whoever traces their history will find their conduct to have been regulated by an elevated and punctilious regard to honour, and marked by disinterestedness " above all Greek and Roman fame. " " When the Hatchet-makers," said the eloquent Sadekanaghtie to Governor Fletcher, at Albany, in 1 694, " first arrived in this country, we received them kindly. Vv hen they were but a small people we entered into a league with them, to guard them from all enemies whatsoever. We were so fond of their society that we tied tho great canoe which brought them, not with a rope made of bark, to a tree, but with a strong iron chain, fastened to a great mountain. Then the great council at Onondaga planted a tree of peace at Albany, whose top will reach the sun, and t3 218 THE GRAVE OF THE INDIAN KING. branches spread far abroad, so tbat it sball be seen a great way off; and we shall shelter ourselves under it, and live at peace without molestation. The fire of love burns at this place as well as at Onon- daga; and this house of peace must be kept clean. Let the coven- ant-chain be kept bright like silver, and held fast on all sides ; let not one pull his arm from it. " Alas ! noble, generous chief! how fleet- ing were thy glowing visions ! and thy brightest anticipations of peace with the white man, how soon were they overcast ! How soon, in the bitterness of grief and disappointment, wast thou compelled to ex- claim— " Our arms are stiff and tired of holding fast the chain, whilst others sit still and smoke at their ease. The fat is melted from our flesh, and fallen on our neighbours, who grow plump while we be- come lean. They flourish, while we decay. " Even the race of the tribe which numbered the illustrious Sadekanaghtie, Tachanoontu, Decanesora, and Garangula, whose simple and unstudied eloquence, clothed in the rich and beautiful imagery furnished from this store- house of Nature, shone more brightly than the blaze of their council- fires, has been swept from the face of the earth ; and a few struggling remnants of the other tribes, who formed this celebrated confederacy, are all now left of the once mighty and terrible ONGUFHONWE*. But, in our desire to bestow a passing tribute of honourable and well deserved praise upon an illustrious race, whose merits have never been properly appreciated, whose noble qualities have not been well understood, and whose proud character all history has united to calumniate, we may have digressed too far, and will now return to our subject — **The grave of the Indian King." The frequent hostilities in which the Five Nations were involved with the Canadian French and Indians, in consequence of their alli- ance with the English, have already been mentioned. And cruel were the conflicts and retaliatory massacres on both sides, as might be instanced in the battle between the Five Nations and the Hurons, near Quebec, the destruction of Scenectady, and the slaugher at Mon- treal. Too often, moreover, were they encouraged and pushed into hostilities by the English, and in time of need, left without adequate succour or supplies. In the year 1690, Count Frontenac, one of the most efficient and politic, as well, perhaps, as the most cruel of the French governors in Canada, attempted to detach the Five Nations from the friendship of the English colony, and to negociate a sepa- rate peace. W ith this view, through the agency of the Jesuits, the * Signifying "Men surpaseine; all other?;" a name which the Five Natione conferred upon themselves. THE TEN THOUSAND AT THE SACRED MOUNT. 219 Count succeeded in persuading the Indians to call a grand council of their chiefs at the old council-fire in Onondaga, to which he dis- spatched messengers with his proposals. There were present eighty sachems; arid the council was opened by Sadekanaghtie. The French commissioners laboured assiduously to accomplish their pur- pose, and the conference continued several days. But a messenger from Albany informed the chiefs that a separate peace would displease the English, and the proposals were therefore promptly rejected. Shortly afterwards, the Count determined to avenge himself on the Five Nations, for having preferred maintaining inviolable their good faith and honour, to the peace which he had proffered. For this purpose, he assembled all his disposable troops, amounting to four battalions, with the Indians in his service and under his control ; and departed from Montreal on the 9th of July with two small pieces of cannon, two mortars, a supply of grenades, &c. After a weari- some march of twelve days, during which the utmost circumspection was necessary to avoid ambuscades, the Count reached the foot of the Cadarackui lake (now called Ontario), and crossed thence in ca- noes to the estuary of the Ohswega river, which flows from the northern extremity of the Onondaga or Salt Lake ; the Onondaga river flowing into the southern end, near the great salt licks. The expedition cautiously ascended the Ohswega, and crossed the salt lake, keeping strong scouts on the flanks, to prevent any surprise that might be attempted by a crafty enemy. This precautionary measure was the more necessary, inasmuch as the Indians, against whom they were marching, with their wonted chivalry, had given the French notice that they were apprised of their hostile approach. A tree had been discovered by one of the scouts, on the trunk of which the savages had painted a representation of the French army on its march ; and at the foot of the tree, two bundles of rushes had been deposited, serving at once as a note of defiance, and giving the invaders to un- derstand that they would be compelled to encounter as many war- riors as there were rushes in the bundles. These being counted, were found to number fourteen hundred and thirty four. To be concluded in our next. THE TEN THOUSAND AT THE SACRED MOUNT. WE spoke of Mr. J. Johns in high terms in our last number, the following piece is extracted from another volume of his poetry entitled " Dews of Castalie." They had seen Cynaxa's field, Where they fought so vainly well — For, though back in rout the foemen reeled, Yet the princely Cyrus fell ! 220 THE TEN THOUSAND AT THE SACRED MOUNT. Could it aught avail to them That the Golden Eagle fled > He who fought for Susa's diadem, Was among Cynaxa's dead ; — Their paean had drown'd the parting groan Of him who struck for a grave or throne ! They had heard Euphrates rush In the might of his own deep wave; They had seen the infant Tigris gush From his far Armenian cave; They had seen the Ephesian pile, The hut of the mountaineer, And fought through many a red defile With the sling, the shaft, and spear: — Of their brave ranks, some of the bravest lay In a nameless grave of foreign clay. Underneath the snow-born pines Of the wild Carduchian hills, They had thought of their country's wines By the foeman's icy rills : At the eagle's scream, they had thought On the nightingales of home : — "Could such, " they had asked, u be the lure that wrought Upon Greeks from Greece to roam ? " As they thought of the hour when they blindly sold Ten thousand swords for a stranger's gold. The y are scaling Thcches side — Their van is on Theche's broir — What weans the pause, vf the martial tide. And the earthquake-cry below ? — To the sword the lirnl arm glanced, And the languid foot trod proud ; Over each worn check the stern blood danced, Like the fire-flash over the cloud ; The hero woke in each weary man — For they decm'd the foe was upon their van ! On they rush'd as to thejlght — But it was no battle-word; Far " the Sea ! the Sea ! "—from the mountains height In a thousand shouts was heard! "TiiE SEA ! THE SEA ! "—that cry Seemed the end of toils and fears ; And of all that host, not a freeman's eye But was dim with rapturous tears. Printed and Published by G. Hearder, Buckwell Street, Plymouth. I 7 APR 22 '&*&& THE SOUTH DEVON MONTHLY MUSEUM. PLYMOUTH, JUNE IST, 1834. No. 18.] PRICE SIXPENCE. [VOL. III. AUTOGRAPHS AND NOTICES OF CELEBRATED MEN. NUMBER I. IN our prospectus it was intimated that Auto- graphs of celebrated individuals would occasionally furnish subjects for the engravings : Number I. is now before the reader; he will instantly recognise some of the names as those of Western Worthies, the others have been directly or indirectly concerned in the affairs of our ancient Borough: — but even were this not the case, the celebrity of such men precludes the need of apology for introducing their names here. The Signatures have been very accurately engraved from the original hand writing of each individual, at- tached to valuable documents, in the possession of a gentleman to whose kindness we are much indebted, but whose modesty prevents even a remote allusion to his name. When we have exhausted the store of ancient " West- ern Worthies/' we design to give the autographs of the moderns, especially of those who are now no more. The names of many others shall also appear while they yet live, in case they do not die in time for our purpose, which Heaven forbid. Howard. — Charles Lord Howard of Effingham, a fa- ll 593. vourite of Elizabeth's and a privy counsellor. In 1588, being Lord High Admiral, he sailed and with his fleet from Plymouth to encounter the Spanish Armada, on the 21st of July. Nottingham. — In 1597 his Lordship was created Earl of Nottingham which gave great displeasure to VOL. III. — 1834. GG 222 NOTICES OF EMINENT MEN. the Earl of Essex. In 1604 he was sent into Spain to ratify the peace with that kingdom. Essex. — Robert d' Evereux, Earl of Essex, a privy- 1593. counsellor, though at this time a great favour- ite of Elizabeth, he afterwards incurred her displeasure, and died on the scaffold in 1602. Burghley.— William Cecyll Lord Burghley, K. G. 1593. Secretary of State, a privy counsellor, and afterwards Lord High Treasurer of England, exceedingly eminent as a diplomatist and statesman, he was at this time 72 years of age, he died in 1598. Ro. Cecyll. — Son of Lord Burghley, and became upon 1593. his Father's resignation, Secretary of State. & Salisbury. — In 1603, James 1st, on his accession to the throne, created him Earl of Salisbury, made him his prime minister, and chief coun- sellor. In 1606 was appointed Lord Treasurer. Being an eminent statesman and able diplo- matist, he was constantly in office during the reigns of Elizabeth and James 1st, he died in 1612. Hunsdon. — Henry Gary Lord Hunsdon, K. G., was a 1593. general officer, and frequently at Plymouth, in 1588 he was intrusted with the command of the army at Tilbury Fort, he was a privy counsellor, Lord Chamberlain, and died in 1596. Drake. — Sir Francis Drake, so well known as a dis- 1594. tinguished naval commander and navigator, as well as a benefactor to the town of Plymouth, that any account of him would be superfluous. At this time, he was one of the representatives of Plymouth in the House of Commons, he died in 1596, without leaving any issue. Fortescue. — Sir John Fortescue, Chancellor of the 1606. Duchy of Lancaster. A privy counsellor. But in the preceding reign he had been Chan- cellor of the Exchequer. He died in 1608. Carew. — Richard Carew of Anthony, Esq., well known A GRAVE IN THE OCEAN. 223 1605. as the able chorographer of Cornwall, in that interesting and instructive work which he has named a Survey of Cornwall. He was an ac- tive magistrate and commissioner, and much resorted to by the Government as well as his neighbours for aid and assistance in time of need. In 1606, he was 51 years of age. He died in 1620. Ellesmere. — Lord Chancellor of England in the early 1606. part of the reign of James 1st, and resigned it in 1617, being succeeded by the celebrated Bacon. Glanville. — Serjeant, the second son of Judge Glan- 1640. ville. In 1620 he was ele.cted Recorder of Plymouth, and resigned that office in 1640. He was the representative of Plymouth in three par- liaments, and in 1640 was elected Speaker of the House of Commons and died in 1661. A GRAVE IN THE OCEAN. A holy rite is offered now By one whose bold and hoary brow Marks him, the tried of heart and hand, Fit leader of so brave a band, The deck shows, grouped in pensive mood, Men who were knit in brotherhood — Mid fray and storrn, mid waves and dread — To one who lies before them dead. Stern men of Ocean ! still a tear Can startle o'er your comrade's bier : War's wild note hath not yet represt Some kindlier feelings in the breast. Ye, who, unflinching oft have trode Where red blood from the conflict flowed, And eager steel and flame drank life Till Carnage shuddered at the strife. 224 A GRAVE IN THE OCEAN. Ye, who, unworn, have heard the sound Of struggling winds rage fierce around Till sea and sky, in one black pall, Seemed gathering for the doom of all. Men of the Sword and Storm ! Ye shave, Though voiceless all, the holy prayer That yields a brother to his grave, Beneath the lurid sea's dun wave. Tis meet that brave ones here should shed Tears for the young — but gallant dead : Tis meet that dauntless hearts should show, On the broad main, this sacred woe. Who closed the dying seaman's eye ? Who heard his last — strong — struggling cry? Who watched his countenance grow still, And sunken, from convulsion's thrill ? These comrade men. No mother's care, No sister's soothing words were there; No wife, no children, stood beside The small, rude hammock where he died. In scenes like this the firmest soul Will yield to sympathy's control, And iron nerves bow down to see Pale and protracted agony. Twill chill the soul with far more power Than reeking decks in battle's hour, Where the mad blood boils out in fight, Ere Havock hath outspent her might. Their's is no mock or pompous woe Prepared — with sighs and tears — for show, But the strong breast a moment rent : The hr;w In 'art, in its struggle, spent. FA AM. 225 Olt SLANDER. n, thieves ! And to the cry that John made, the thieves forsook the merchants : And when they were come to Market Jew, then they metavrain. Oh! John, said they, we arc much obliged to you : Had it not been for you, \ve had all been undone. (.'nine alon^ with us, ami welcome you shall be. Ha an dzhei a uyraz an naw penz en dezan. Ha po 'riga Dzhuan kymeraz e kydmiaz ybma med e vester, ma tezan ragez da dan dre, da da 'ureg : Ha po ti a da ureg an moiha luan uarbarh ; nenna g'reu terhi an dezan ha na henz. Kibmiaz teg e kymeraz, ha tiua ha tre e trevaliaz ; ha uar an diuat e rig daz da Gun St. Kler. Ha enna ev a vettiaz gen trei vert- shunt a Tre rin (tiz pleu) taz dre mez an fer Karesk. Ha I):hi/aji amed an dzhei, diou gennan nei: Luan oan nei da g'yz guelaz huei. Polia ve ti mar b* 1 ' Amed Dzhuan, me a ve servia ha lebmen teram maz dre da a uttg. Ha med an dzhei, euzbar- li;i IK i ; ha uelkom ti a ved. An d/.yi a kymeraz an vc et, ha I)~JiUdti a guidaz vornou- an vor got. Ha ma/, reb Keou Tshoy Uun, ha nauo an vartshants gifiyi pel doart l)/.huau ; bez leddarn a gle- naz ort an dzhei. Ila an dzhyi a dalladaz da 'uil krei : Ha uenx. an krei : a 'ryg an \arNhants ^uil ; Dzhuan a greiaz auct Leddarn, leddarn! Ila uenx. an krei a 'rig Dzhuan U'uil, :m lednin a torsakia/ an vert- shants : Ha po 'ryg an dzhei da? da Yarha Dzhou, enna an dzhei a vettiaz arta. Ila Di/uinn arnedh an dzhei : Seud/.liyz on nei da huei : Na via rauoii huei nei a via tiz oil dizu- re\z. Di/. barha nei, ha uelkym ti a ved. THE THREE POINTS OF WIT. 257 And when they were come to the house where formerly they had lodged, saith John, I must needs see the host of the house. The host of the house, said they ! What wouldst thou do with the host of the house ? Here is the hostess with us, and young- she is : but if you will see the host of the house, go into the kitchen, and there you'll find him. And when he was come into the kitchen ; then he saw the host of the house : and an old man he was, and feeble, and turning the spit. Oh, saith John, here I will not lodge, but in the next house. Not yet said they ; take a supper with us, and welcome thou shalt be. Now the hostess of the house, she had consulted with a fellow that was in the town, to destroy the old man in his bed in the time of night, whilst the rest were asleep ; and to lay the blame upon the merchants. And when John was in bed, there was an hole in the top of the house; and he saw a light. And he got up out of his bed ; and he listened, and he heard a man speak. And he turned his back to the hole : See well, saith he, that there be nobody in the next house, thatmay see our foul deeds. And with that he strangled with his handkerchief, and destroyed the old man in bed. And with that John with his knife cut (through the hole) out of the back of the man's gown a piece quite round. And next morning after he was strangled she began to make a great out-cry, that her dearly be- loved was destroyed : and for that there was neither man nor boy in Ha po 'rygan dzhei daz da'n tshei lebma got fia an dzhei ostia; amed Dzhuan me dal Guellaz an ost an tshei. An ost an tshei amed an dzhyi : Pe 7ntra venta guil gen an ost an tshei ? ybma ma gen ostez nei ha yygk eu hei : mar menta guellaz an ost an tshei, ki da 'n gegen, ha enna ti an kav. Ha po 'ryg e daz da 'n gegen ; enna e uelaz an ost an tshei ; ha den kot o e, a guadn, a trailia an ber Ha amed Dzhuan, ybma na vadna vi ostia bez en nessa tshei. Na huat med an dzhei. Guraz kona abarhan nei, ha uelkym ti a ved. Lebmen an hostez an tshei, hei a kynsiliaz gen nebyn vanah a erra en tre, a da destria an den kot en guilli en termen an noz, a resta an dzhyi syppozia ; ha garra a fout uar an vertshants. Ha po thera Dzhuan en guilli, therra tol en tal an tshei ; ha ev a uelaz gulou. Ha e savaz am'an amez e uili ; ha ev a gyzyuaz, ha e glyuaz an manah laveral. Ha trailiaz e gein da an tal ; martez en (amed ev) ma nebonen en nessa tshei, a 'ryg uelaz agen ha- ger oberou. Ha genz hedna, an guadngyrti geuz e follat a destria z an den kot en guili. Ha genz hedna Dzhuan genz e golhan, trohaz (der an tol) mez a kein gun an manah pis pyrround. Ha nessa metten an guadn-gyrti hei a dalasvaz da 'nil krei ter da e thermaz hei deztriez : Ha rag na erra den na floh en tshei bez an vertshantz, an dzhei dal kreg VOL. in. — 1834. MM 258 THE THREE POINTS OF WIT. the house but the merchants and them, they should surely be hang- ed for it. Then they were taken, and to the prison they were led : and in the end, John came to enquire after them. Alas ! John, say they, there is bad luck to us : our host was murdered last night, and we must be hanged for it. What all of you ?— But if you should be justified (saith John) what will you give to one for for telling who did the bad work ? Who is it knows, said they ? Who hath done the bad work ? Saith John, if I do not make you see the proof of who hath done the bad work, I will hang for it. Speak it out said, they. Last night, said John, when I was in bed, I saw a light, and I got up ; and there was an hole in the top of the house. And some man did turn his back against the hole. Pray Chance, said he, there be nobody in the next house, that may see our foul deeds. And with that with a knife I did cut a piece thro' the hole, out of the back of the man's gown ; a piece quite round. And to make my words to be well proved, here is the piece in my pocket for you to see. And with that the merchants were freed ; and the woman and the man were taken and hanged. Then they came away together, out of Market Jew ; and in the end, they did come to Kuz karn mi huila in Burian. Now there the way parted ; and the merchants would fain have John to go home with them ; but for the time lie would not ; but he would go home to his wife. ragta. Enna an dzhei a vea kemery/, ha da an kloxprednier dzhyi a ve lediyz : Hauarandiuedh Dzhuan a det uar' a go phidn. Ha Dzhuan medh an dzhei ma kalliz luk da nei : Ma agen ost nei destriez nehuer ha nei dal kreg ragta. Huei ol ? mer a huei an luti- ziou (a med Dzhuan) gyr tero an diz rag riman a 'ryg an badober? Piua armed an dzhei ? tiua'ryg an badober ? Piu a 'ryg an bad- ober ? Med Dzhuan : mar nyz medra deffa previ peu a 'ryg an badober ; mi a vedn kreg ragta. Laverou' danna med an dzhei. Nehuer med Dzhuan, po tera vi itta 'o guilli, mi a uelaz gulou ha mi a savaz am 'an : ha tera tol en tal an tzhei. Ha nebyn Manah a trailiaz e gein uar bidn an tul. Martezen med ev ma nabonnen en nessa tshyi aelguelazagenhageroberou. Ha genz hedna gen a holhan me a trohaz pis, der an tol mez a kein gun anmanah; pis pyrround. Ha rag gil a giriou-ma da vaz prevez; ybma ma an pis et a phokkat da vaz guelyz. Ha genz hedna an vartshants a vi friez : ha an venin ha 'n ma- nah a vi kemeryz ha kregyz. Nenna an dzhei a det uarbarh mez da Varha Dzhou ; Ha uar an diuad dzhei 'ryg daz da Kuz karn na huila en Borrian. Nenna thera vor diberh : ha an vartshants a vendzha arta da Dzhuan maz dre burh an dzhei ; bez rag an termen ena vendzha ; mez even dzlia maz dre da e ureg. THE THREE POINTS OF WIT. 259 And when he was gone from the merchants, he delayed the time, that he might try whether his wife had always kept to her duty : Had she, or had she not. And when he was come to the door, he chanc'd to hear another man in the bed : He laid his hands on his dagger to destroy them both: but he considered that he ought to deliberate twice with himself, before contend once. And he went out again, and then he knock'd. Who is there, in the Name of God, said she ? I am here said John: By St. Mary, whom do I hear saith she? Tf it be you, John, come into the house. Come hither with the light, saith John: Then she brought a light. And when John was come in- to the house, saith he, when I did come to the door, I did chance to hear another man in bed. Oh John saith she, when you went away afar off, I was gone three months with child; and now the poor sweet little boy is in bed with me, to God be thanks for it. Says John, I will tell thee: My master and my mistress gave me a cake, and said to me ; When that I and my wife were most merry together, to break the cake, and not before : And now there is cause for us to merry. Then they broke the cake, and there were nine pounds in the cake. And the money they had, and the bread they did eat ; and there was no anger, nor strife, nor dispute between them. And so I end my tale ofthern from thence- forth. Ha po do ev gilliz dort an vartshants ev a dhelledzhaz an termen mal da va prev erra e ureg guita kympez et i gever : erra po nag erra. Ha po 'ryg e daz dan darraz, ev a vendzha klouaz den aral en guili : Ev a uaske e darn uar e dagier da destria an dheau. Bez e brederaz ter gota dodo baz aviz- iyz diuet ken guesgal enuet. Ha ev a det a mes arta; ha nenna e gnakiaz. Peua ez enna en bar* Deu amed hei. Thera vi ybma med Dzhuan : Re Faria piua glou vi med hyi ? Mar so huei Dzhuan, diau tshyi. Douoy an golou danna, med Dzhuan : nenna hei a dhoroaz an golou. Ha po 'ryg Dzhuan daz tshei, med ev po 'ryg avi daz da 'n dar- raz, me a venzha klyuaz den aral en guili. Ha D^huan med hyi, po 'rygo huei maz ker, thera vi gillyz trei miz gen 'hloh ; ha lebmen ma da nei meppig hueg en guili, da deu robo gor zehez. Med Dzhuan me vedn laveral diz. A vester ha a vestrez roz dem tezan ha laveraz dem ; Pan vo mi ha 'm g'reg an moyha luan uarbarh do terri an dezan, ha na henz : ha lebmen ma kaz da nei rag baz luan. Nenna dzhei a dorhaz an dezan, ha tera nau penz en dezan. Ha an mona an dzhei a gavaz ; ha 'n bara dzhei a dhabraz ; ha na ve idn froth na mikan na trauaran nor vez. Ha an del la ma diuad me daralla dodans. 260 STADDON HEIGHTS IN MAY. IN the month of May, Staddon Heights may be explored to much advantage ; not by an undeviating march along the beaten footway, but by penetrating into the bosom of every bushy glen, and wandering quietly over the smooth carpets of sandy beach which interrupt the bold, rocky margin. Reader, never take more than one companion ; and let his mind be congenial to your own ; otherwise go alone : above all things avoid, on such an occasion, the fellowship of one whose talk is of Lord John Russell, or the multiplication table, trades' unions or three-per-cents. You may not always desire to pass over a certain distance of ground in a given space of time ; then fling yourself down on the grass, in the first green field you arrive at, and pluck one of the million daisies which spring around you ; the flower is so common that you, perhaps, may think it unworthy your notice ; but pause, and recollect that there are hundreds of arteries perva- ding each of its sixty white leaflets ! You may become lost in a feeling more sacred than admiration, while meditating on the delicate operations and the sublime designs of its Architect. Shake off the feelings and ideas of " a man of the world," " A primrose on the river's brim A yellow primrose is to him : — And nothing more ! " Stop and examine the many-coloured verdure which clothes each dell and slope in your progress. The furze will be pre-eminent with a rich brown hue from its early flowering boughs, and a bright yellow glowing on those which have just arrived at their perfect beauty ; these colours are relieved by the sombre tint of the under- wood not yet much advanced in foliage, and the fresh green of the hawthorn covered with clustering blossoms like snow ; the fragrance of these, mingled with those of the furze, breath an inexhaustible odour all around. Farther down on the declivities you may perceive the black rocks matted over, here and there, with very long, STADDON HEIGHTS IN MAY. 261 narrow-leaved soft grass ; which forms an elastic and pleasant resting place ; it is variegated with very deli- cate, slender-stalked, white flowers, in large clusters, and with others resembling the clover blossom, but much stronger. The precipitous walls of rock, in many places, are overgrown with ivy, the young shoots of which with their clear, transparent, glossy, green leaves look like graceful living things clasping the frightful dead. At the fourth stile from Mount Batten, a panoramic view may be obtained which is unmatched in the neigh- bourhood. The interminable sea lies to the extreme left, on which it sometimes happens that there is but one visible obj ect — the Pharos of the Eddy stone. Pen- lee, Cawsand, Kingsand, and Redding point, one by one, lead the eye to Mount Edgecumbe, where, at this time, may be perceived almost every hue and shade of leafage, Homoaze and Devonport are reposing under the " hills of Old Cornwall/' which rise solidly blue in the distance. Stonehouse, Plymouth , the busy port, the Laira, Saltram, and the brown summits of Dartmoor form the remaining part of the picture, which of a clear sunny day, is uncommonly pleasing, as there is very seldom any obscuring smoke or shadow resting upon the towns. Passing this stile, you will, in a few mi- nutes, arrive at the bottom of a dell ; here the footpath diverges into two, one traverses the upper part of the Heights, the other will conduct you — through the un- derwood— to a second and entangled path nearer the edge of the precipice : chose the latter. Though you may not be a naturalist, technically so understood, yet you will find many obj ects well deserving notice. There are no majestic trees, no smooth shaven lawns, no lucid lakes, no shining river ; yet there is abundant matter for contemplation. Examine the many, various sorts of flowers — from the odorous blue bell to the diminu- tive heart'sease — which are springing around you under the shelter of interwoven brambles, or near the margin of the thread-like streamlets : you will perceive that some are not less fragrant than many of our cherished exotics, and others are as delicately pencilled as the 262 STADDON HEIGHTS IN MAY. tenderest green-house denizens. While you silently admire these wild gems, there are two sounds mingling around you in most exquisite power ; the voice of the vast sea and the music of exulting birds. Among the latter there are long-drawn-out, tender, melancholy tones, and short, quick bursts of extasy ; there are thrillings of melody and unmeasured, exuberant flashes of happiness ; there are inviting calls and welcome res- ponses ; but they all mingle into one anthem whose power will perhaps call forth an involuntary tear. The sound of the sea is not a monotonous moan, such as rises desolately on the wing of Night, nor a boding voice as of tempests near at hand, nor an angry surging along the iron shore, but a most soothing, quiet, murmuring cadence which combined with the sylvan measures around causes you to forget that you were, not long since, in the world which man has made — the town. Its slander, falsehood, and heartlessness are forgotten, you feel yourself plunged in tn unutterable dream and yet are conscious that it is a dream: you rejoice in experiencing a vision which renders life a luxury and yet regret that the vision must soon pass away and sadden into stern reality. While you rest near a footpath, or on a bank expo- sed to the sun, the slow-snake and nimble lizard may be frequently observed : the former is easily caught for the purpose of examination, but the latter requires more dexterity ; for while it lies coiled up and basking in the noon light its eyes are eagerly glistening and ready to take notice of intruders: it moves also with great agility so as often to evade the quickest hands. Both are per- fectly harmless, and may be examined without fear and with much gratification. A rabbit will, sometimes, steal out for a moment and look fearfully around as if con- sdou.s that the day is a dangerous time for it to be abroad : should you make the slightest noise the timid little creature will spring away into the brushwood and he out of sight in an instant. Birds are abundant on your way, and their habits and economy may be studied a little, perhaps, without your knowing their specific and generic names ; you STADDON HEIGHTS IN MAY. 263 may certainly inspect and admire them without being bound to point out the difference between a linnet and a lark. When some of the small birds are singing they choose the top twig of a shrub or bush, and it is curious to note them while^hus engaged : some warble out their notes like automata, without a movement and appar- ently unconscious of what they are doing ; others seem to be electrified and exalted into something higher than mere animal life ; they look as if inclined to shout out their souls into the passionate strain. Many of the birds have their nests on the faces of the steep cliffs where they build and brood in security. There is one bold, black wall of sandstone rock, about half-way to Bovisand, and nearly opposite to a small head land where the foot of a flag-staff still remains ; here a flock of crows may often be observed congregated on the jutting fragments of stone near the summit, and so well do they seem to be aware of their safety that a loud shout will hardly startle them away — should they even move, it is only to wheel in a circle high above your head and then return to their resting place. In thread- ing the brambles and furze bushes, you will frequently disturb thrushes and black-birds ; they seldom move until you are very near them, and then rush out with a startling whirr of their powerful wings, darting over the precipice or shooting higher up on the rising ground. In the cloven dells which intersect the Heights, the bushes are something larger than on the other parts, a few even approach the size of small trees. Here it not unfrequently happens that you will disturb a wild pigeon ; she makes a bold flight at once, floating quietly but swiftly over the sea, and you can seldom detect her return to the same spot. Insects may be observed in great abundance when the day is clear and sunny ; it does not necessarily require entomological knowledge to observe and admire these beautiful objects of creation, many hundred varie- ties of bees, flies and butterflies may be observed among the blossoms in one spot in the course of an hour ; it is not probable that any one who has ever used a micro- 264 STADDON HEIGHTS IN MAY. scope will pass by these with indifference because they are merely insects. The flies and bees are too numerous to attempt to describe, but the busy ardor of the latter — the unwearied industry with which they explore every flower may strike even the most careless observer. Amongst the butterflies, two may be seen of great beauty, both are small ; one is of a -shining, silky blue on the upper part of the wings, whilst underneath they are of a dark cream colour, speckled very beautifully ; the other is brown on the upper part of the wings, which underneath are splendidly green, appearing as if overlaid with the sparkling dust of some rare jewel, the latter of these insects makes very short and quick flights, it gene- rally rests on the leaves of bushes and as it most frequent- ly reposes with its wings closed there is some difficulty in discriminating it with an unpractised eye. Among the larger butterflies are three or four sorts which have white wings, more or less mottled with black, these are not so strong in flight as the two above mentioned, and sometimes look more like blossoms blown along by the wind than insects. Amongst the foliage will be found many with brown wings very delicately marked with whitish yellow spots. Resting on the footway or on stones, others are abundant with tawny coloured wings barred with brown curved lines. But reader you have eyes as well as he who writes, and can use them probably much better, therefore he may appear to dwell with unnecessary particularization on some matters : the object, however, has been to show that the brown-looking, apparently barren place, called Staddon Heights, is full of interest and beauty, if we will be at the trouble of seeking them, nor is it merely in the month of May that it affords subject of pleasing research and contemplation — but at all times and at all seasons. " Thy forms, O ! Nature, glorious still. " The voices cease upon the hill." J. B. v»vWK CONCLUSION OF VOLUME THE THIRD. O\ G' P' IIEARDER> PLYMOUTH. 7 APR 22 f