^. 3^,

THE

SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY

MUSEUM.

VOLUME VI.

JULY TO DECEMBER,

1835.

PLYMOUTH :

G. p. HEARDER.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME VI.

Approaching Comet, The 102

Biographical Notices of the Christian Fathers, 89
British Association, Objects and Advantages

of the 236,252

Bear's Head, and Queen Anne's Battery, Plv-

mouth. The " 241

Comparison between the Irishman and High-
lander, 197
Climbing a Rock in Flat Island, 224
Extracts from a Landsman's Log, 7, 57
Flash House in Pompeii and the Gentleman of

the Classic Ring, A 40

Friary Court, 97

Fossils of the Neighbourhood, 117, 177, 214

Fashionable Lady's Day, A 201

Filiation and Migrations of the Ancient Nations
of Europe, Lt. Col. C. H. Smith's Lecture
on the 236

Geographical Distribution, Habitat, and Migra-
tions of Fishes, 20
German Settler, The 57
Happy Beauty and the Blind Slave, The 33
How very Extraordinary, 153
Insects, 169
Lady of the Lane, The 75
Lighthoufcs, 144
Lo^cal Sketches, No. I., 193
Most Wretched, The 27
Miseries of a tender-eared man, 138
Original Communications on West India So-
ciety, No. 4., 69
Operative Chemistry, Mr. Prideaux's Lecture

on 230

Plymouth Institution, The 1

Paris, 105

Prospectus of Lectures at the Plymouth Insti-
tution, 184
Proceedings in the Athenaeum of the Plymouth

Institution, 230, 181

Perambulator, The, No. XII. 241

Pleasures and advantages of the Study of

Nature, 274

Poetical Writings of Pope, Mr. Wightwick's

Lecture on the 281

Review, g

Range of Apprenticeship, 74, 1 63, 265

Review of " Papers on Naval Architecture " 84
Resitance of Fluids, Mr. Owen's Lecture on

the 234

Scene in Bridgetown, A 7

Sufferings of Lieutenant O' Brien, 15, 61, 1 10, 159,

205,246
Spectator, No. VII., The 88

South Devon and East Cornwall Hospital, and

Plymouth Public Dispensary, The 145

"Trifles light as air,'' 80

Theresa Abruzzi, 126, 185,212

Tavistock, 193

Theatre, The 283

Weston Mill, 49

Wreck of the Fury, 53

POETRY.

Aposthrope at midnight, 199

BrcchicHyms to the Image of Death, 46

Brahmin, The 134

Bridal Dirge, A 134

Evening Song of the Hours, The 38

Hymn of Eros, The • 48

Hemans, A Vision, 27^

Lines, 109

Lines, 245

Nursery Reminiscence, A 55

Orphan Anna, 65

Oak, The 280

Verses, 116

LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.

The Athenaeum, Plymouth.

Weston Mill, (two engravings)

Friary Court.

South Devon and East Cornv^rall Hospital.

Park-Wood House, Tavistock.

The Bear's Head, with the Wjceek^f^the Dart.

Queen Anne's Battery, Phr^VthiVf^X

( 1 APR 22

22]

APR 22

(^

V

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, JULY 1st, 1835.
No. 31.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

Our Engraving this month presents a north view
of the Plymouth Institution ; for the drawing from
which it was taken we are indebted to Mr. G. T.
Page, architect, of Plymouth.

This society owes its formation to the laudable
endeavours of Henry WooUcombe, esq., who had
long contemplated the beneficial effects resulting
from societies composed of persons of various pur-
suits, but wht)se common object was the cultivation
of useful knowledge. That highly respected indi-
vidual being joined by several other gentlemen, who
were inclined cordially to co-operate in the under-
taking, the society was first originated in the year
1812. Its meetings were then held in the Public
Library, whence they were removed to the Picture
Gallery, in Frankfort Place. The accommodations
afforded by this apartment, being found too limi-
ted for the increased numbers and importance of
the society, it was determined to erect a building,
exclusively appropriated to the purposes of the insti-
tution ; — to raise a temple where the Penates of
Learning and Science might be securely deposited.

A spot of ground, adjoining the Theatre, having
been previously selected for the purpose, the founda-
tion-stone of the building was laid, in the presence
of the members, by H. Woollcombe, esq., senior
president ibr the year, on the first of May, 1818.

VOL. VI.— 1835, A

Z THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

John Foulston, esq., of Athenian, Cottage, North
Hill, from a fellow feeling with the members of the
society, furnished the plans and elevations, and
superintended the work, till the completion in
February, 1819, when it was opened for the public
business of the Institution.

The front is a Doric portico of four columns, the
centre intercolumniation being wider than the others
similar to the portico of the Temple of Theseus, at
Athens, but more massive in its proportions. The
sides of the building are plain beyond the returns
of the portico, except that the entablature with the
triglyphs and metopes are continued the whole
length of the sides. The portico is nearly thirty-six
feet in breadth. The entrance from the portico is
into the vestibule, which is ornamented by an entab-
lature supported by Doric columns. In the vestibule
are casts of the Venus de Medicis, the fighting
gladiator, and a mutilated faun ; in the staircase is
the head and trunk of the genius of the capital.
Above the vestibule is the library, which contains a
choice collection of rare and valuable books, and is
supplied with home and foreign periodicals, &c., &c.
In the same apartment is part of the philosophical
apparatus belonging to the society ; it also contains
a fine bust of Achilles, and a cast from one of the
horses of the chariot of night.

The Athenseum, or lecture room of the Institution,
is 36 feet long, by 30 broad, and is fitted with
sittings for about 200 persons. This room is graced
by noble casts from some of the Elgin marbles. The
River God, Ilissus, and the Theseus ; the justly
celebrated originals formerly decorated in part the
pediment of the Parthenon at Athens, but, during
the siege of that city by the Venetians, in the year
1687, they were thrown down by the bursting of a
bomb. The Earl of Elgin, while on his embassy to
the Ottoman Porte, obtained permission to remove
these splendid specimens of sculpture to this king-
dom ; and, in the year 1816, the whole of them were

THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 3

purchased by the Parliament, for the sum of
£35,600., and deposited in the British Museum.
These rehcs of Grecian art are reckoned among the
finest productions of human genius, and the exquisite
taste and masterly execution displayed by the artist
have called forth the warmest expressions of delight
and admiration from the most eminent sculptors and
painters.

Mr. West, formerly president of the Royal Aca-
demy, says — " Had I been blessed with seeing and
studying these emanations of genius at an earlier
period of life, the sentiment of their preeminence
would have animated all my exertions ; and more
character, more life, and expression would have
pervaded my humble attempts in historical painting."
And Canova, the most distinguished of modern
sculptors, bears the following testimony to the
superior excellence of these productions : — '^ I think
that I can never see them often enough, and although
my stay in this great capital must be extremely short,
I dedicate every moment that I can spare to the
contemplation of these celebrated remains of ancient
art. I admire in them the truth of Nature, united
to the choice of the finest forms. Every thing here
breathes life, with a veracity — w^ith an exquisite
knowledge of art, without the least ostentation or
parade of it, which is concealed by consummate and
masterly skill."

There are also in the Athenaeum casts of the
Apollo Belvidere, and the Antinous. A bust of
Minerva is likewise placed above the Lecturer's
chair. On the walls are plaster facsimiles of the
sculptures in the Metopes of the Parthenon, repre-
senting the conflict between the Centaurs and Lapi-
thae, and the Panathenaic procession, which was
celebrated at Athens every fifth year, in honor of
Minerva. The Metopes and the Procession are casts
from the famous Elgin collection, and were presented
to the Institution in the most gracious and munificent
manner, by His Majesty George the Fourth. The

4 THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

Apollo is the splendid present of Admiral Sir T. B,
Martin; the Venus, of Gen. Sir Wm. Congreve;
and the Antinous, that of the Earl of Morley. The
bust of Minerva was given by the Rev. R. Lampen,
one of the members. The possession of these fine
models of ancient sculpture, must be considered as
an event of the greatest importance in promoting the
progress of the arts, and is justly the boast of the
Society.

Behind the Lecturer's table is a door leading to
the laboratory, offices, and the museum. The latter,
by means of purchase and donation, is constantly
increasing, and already contains an interesting col-
lection of minerals, fossils, birds, insects, shell fish,
savage accoutrements, and miscellaneous curiosities.
An excellent bust of H. Woollcombe, esq., by Lege,
graces this room ; it was presented by the members
as a token of their respect and estimation of their
President.

The only remaining piece of tapestry, after the
burning of the House of Lords, which was purchased
at a high price, by the Bishop of LlandafF has
been presented to the Plymouth Institution, through
the president. It contains portraits of Cock, Drake,
and other Western Worthies, who signalized them-
selves, in the defeat of the Spanish Armada.

Among the list of donors' names to the library,
hall, and museum, are the following : — His gracious
Majesty, George the Fourth ; Sir T. B. Martyn; Sir
W. Congreve ; Earl of Morley ; Mr. B. R. Haydon ;
Rev. R. Lampen ; Mr. C. Calvert ; Prince Maximilian
of Wied ; Messrs. J. Prideaux, W. and C. Prideaux,
J. Loudon; Col. Arthur; Messrs. J. P. Whidby,
Fownes, E. Griffiths • Capt. Mends, R. N. ; Rev.
R. Hennah ; Admiral Brooking ; Capt. Walton ;
Capt. Parry, R. N. ; Messrs. Lancaster, Richardson,
G. S. Borlase ; Dr. Cookworthy ; Messrs. Foulston,
R. W. Fox, J. Sampson, A. Frazer; Rev. J. Wil-
liams; Mrs. Manger; Capt; Filmore, R. N. ; Lieut.
Nelson, R. N. ; Mr. W. Burt; Dr. Moore; Major

THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION* 5

C. H. Smith; Capt. G. WooUcombe, R. N. ; Lieut.
Pearce, R. N. ; Messrs. J. F. Jessop; J. L. Stevens,

D. Ross, J. Y. Fownes, Richards; Sir D. Forrest;
Capt. Delafons, R. N. ; Mr. W. H. Hawker ; Miss
Dixon; Miss H. Smith; Messrs. J. Chanter,
Crocker, H. WooUcombe, J. Fox, Hendy ; Mrs.
Lockyer; Messrs. Bartlett, Davy, B. Sampson, C.
Trelawny, E. WiUiams, R. F. Rattenbury ; Rev.
Mr. Mmidy; Capt. Frankly n, R. N. ; Messrs. W.
Hen wood, Roberts, Gabriel; Rev. J. L. Harris;
Messrs. P. Breton, (Calcutta), Bicknell, Cole, Haw-
kins, Murray, Northcote, Roscoe, Perkins, and
Stokes ; Rev. T. Byrth ; Messrs. G. Harvey, W. S.
Harris; Dr. Blackmore; Mr. C. Greaves; Dr.
Butter; Sir J. Seppings ; Messrs. N. Howard, W.
Henwood ; Mrs. Wightwick, &c., &:c.

The Institution consists of ordinary, extraordinary,
honorary, and corresponding members. Its affairs
are under the direction of three presidents, a treasu-
rer, and a secretary, elected every year from among
the ordinary members. The Session commences
annually on the first Thursday in October, and a
lecture is delivered every week till the last Thursday
in March, The chair is taken at seven o' clock in
the evening, and an essay is read by one of the
ordinary members, after which a discussion takes
place, which, by the laws of the society, cannot last
after ten. The Rev. R. Lampen, in his discourse
on the opening of the Athenaeum, eloquently remarks '
on its tendency to confer " much invaluable enjoy-
ment, gladdening the privacy of domestic life — much
elevation of character bestowed on social intercourse
— many innocent resources to relieve the frequent
anxieties, and to ennoble the daily pleasures of exist-
ence.'' An interesting feature of the Athenseum is
its triennial exhibition of paintings, the works of
amateurs and professional artists of the town and
neighbourhood. It is intended to have a public
exhibition of paintings next year, and it is the design
of the Committee to direct their attention to obtaining

THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

a collection in every department of Natural History
of this Neighbourhood : donations are rapidly accu-
mulating, and the donors' names have been carefully
registered. The President has lately presented two
valuable cases for the small but select collection of
minerals which the Museum contains : it is con-
templated to add portraits of the worthies of Devon,
those of Carrington, Northcote, and Wightwick being
already there, others are in preparation.
President — H. Woollcombe, Esq.
Vice Presidents— Rev. R. Luney, Rev. S. Rowf,
J. Norman, Esq.
Treasurer — H. Gandy, Esq.
Secretary — Dr. E. Moore.
Curators,
Library — Lieut. CoL Smith. — Museum — W. Wyatt, Esq.
Apparatus — W. S. Harris, Esq. — Athenaeum —
G. Wightwick, Esq.
Members —
Mr. W. S. Harris
Mr. J. N. Hearder
Dr. Hingston
Rev. Dr. Jacob
Mr. A. B. Johns
Dr. Isbell
Rev. R. Lampen
Mr. T. Lancaster
M. Luce

Mr. Adams

Dr. Armstrong

Rev. R. N. Barnes

Mr. J. N. Bennett

Mr. W. R. Bennett

Dr. Budd

Mr. H. Chatfield

Dr. Cookworthy

Mr. J. Cookworthy

Mr. R. W. Coryndon Rev. R. Luney

Mr. D. Derry Dr. E. Moore

Mr. Foulston
Mr. J. H. Fuge
Mr. E. N. Gabriel
Mr. H. Gandy
Mr. W. E. Gill
Mr, T. Griffin

Rev. S. Nicholson
Mr. Norman
Mr. J. Owen
Rev. G. Patey
Mr. G. Page
Mr. W. Prance

Mr. J. Prideaux
Mr. S. Purdon
Mr. J. M. Rendel
Mr. J. Roberts
Rev. S. Rowe
Rev. B. St. John
Lt. Col. C.H.Smith
Rev. G. Smitli
Mr. P. W. Swain
Mr. T. Southwood
Mr. W. Walker
Rev. J. Webb
Mr. G. Wightwick
Mr. S. Williams
Mr. H. Woollcombe
Mr. W. Wyatt

EXTRACTS FROM A LANDSMAN'S LOG.
III.— A SCENE IN BRIDGETOWN.

What delightful picture is that presented from the
viranda in front of Betsey Austin's hotel during the
morning twilight ; the shipping in Carlisle Bay, each
in her own berth, with the faithful chain idly pendant
from her bows, are lazily rolled about over the swell,
and lie scattered like the drawing room chairs after
a lady's soiree. Here little skiffs shoot quickly by,
with women of color coming from Speight's town to
the market : there some merchant might be going
afloat to inspect his shipments. Then you heard
the yaws of a foreign vessel's crew as warping her
into the carenage ; and now again a chorus of black
fellows in their owner's row-barge — the oars dropping
large spangles of silver as she passed. Presently
these sounds would be lost in the fresh silence of
morning until up rose the glorious sun to wake all
things into life, and light, and motion.

A singular character would sometimes place him-
self under this viranda — a poor half-caste whose
brain had been turned by that sort of melancholy,
which creeps up to it from the heart. He was, in
his way, a peripatetic intelligencer to the canaille of
Bridgetown, taking his station generally either on
the wharf, or by Nelson's statue in the square before
the Commisseriat-office. Here with audible voice,
and gesticulations that would heighten the effect of
his harangue, for though apparently reading from a
tattered book he would hold, the incoherence soon
betrayed him, poor Sir Sidney Smith would deliver
a philippic against the colony at large, and the
women-kind therein in particular. It ordinarily
concluded with a complaint of certain pay and rations
being unjustly withheld from him by the aforesaid
Commisseriat, about which he would threaten to
write his father. This was, in his crazed fancy, the
gallant admiral, whose name they had given him.
One morning he hit on a notable device to attract

8 A SCENE IN BRIDGETOWN.

notice. Standing by the Custom house, with a
crowd of idle negroes about him, he was pubHshing
proposals for the formation of an ugly club in the
island. As I thought this the only institution of the
kind proposed since that at Oxford in the Spectator's
time, my curiosity was drawn to hear something further
of it. He seemed to calculate on many joining him :
members of council, lawyers, several merchants, and
the whole revenue establishment "were cited there
by name." Having caught his eyes I was fearful of
being added to this highly respectable list, and left
him just as I heard the words — "free admission,
and the president, the son of Sir Sidney Smith."

Turning away, the roadstead covered with vessels
of every form and size was again before me. Should
love, methought, ever reduce me to the same woe-
begone condition with this ill-starred votary, may
mine be rather the madness of Thrasilas the Athenian.
He fancied every ship that entered or sailed from the
Pirseus to be his own property ; and although careless
about the wrecks which occurred was immeasumbly
delighted whenever the arrival of some richly laden
carrack was announced. At last reason regained
her seat ; yet until death he declared himself never
so happy, as when trading to all parts of the globe
from his own port in the Piraeas. And how might
not the same be my case ? The chord of affection
once snapped may never thrill with its former sweet
tones ; and the spring-time of young, passionate love

*' Ne revient point pour les amans
Comme il revient pour la nature."

REVIEW.

The History of the Boroughs and Municipal Corpora-
tions OF the United Kingdom, from the earliest to the
present time, with an examination of Records, Charters, and
other Documents, illustrative (f their constitutions and powers ;
by Henry A. Merewether, Sergeant at Law, Solicitor
General to the Queen; and Archibald John Stephens,
M. A., F. R. S., Barrister at Law.

The Authors of this work have been peculiarly fortunate in
bringing their labours before the public at a period when there
exists so much excitement on the subject. We say fortunate
because it is obvious that the peculiar aptness of the time, and
circumstances for the publication, must in a great degree have
been fortuitous ; the labour of collecting the facts recorded in
this work must have occupied years. The authors therefore
cannot have been induced to undertake the task by the recent
popularity of the subject.

Why the constitutions of the several borough towns should
be so widely different one from another, and especially why the
parliamentary representation should have been so various before
the passing of the reform bill, is a problem which has puzzled
antiquaries and lawyers in modern times to a great extent. To
solve this difficulty is the intent of the work before us — to direct
the legislature to the restoration of the municipal corporations to
their original utility and beauty is its object.

The investigation of the proposed problem is pursued synthe-
tically and we think with great success; the state of these
boroughs in the earliest periods is investigated, and their history
is then brought down almost from year to year to the present
day — the origin and causes of those deforming features now so
deservedly unpopular in these institutions are detected, their
progression illustrated, and their present evil consequences pointed
out. The proper remedy for these evils seems obvious from a
knowledge of their nature — they are like exotic parasites, clinging
to a venerable trunk, which can be removed with advantage : in
a word, the remedy proposed is simple restoration.

It is a remarkable fact that we owe nearly all the most valuable
portions of our constitution to those of our mixed ancestors we
generally consider the most rude, viz. the Anglo Saxons ; during
their domination most of the popular rights, those which English-
men have principally valued in latter times, seem (with few
exceptions) to have fiourislied to the extent to which probably
VOL. VI. — 1835. B

10

REVIEW.

they can safely go at any time. It is a trite observation, that a
certain concession of individual rights forms the basis of every
civil institution, and the minimum of that concession is the point
of perfection, the political beau ideal, to be pursued in every
state. All the refinement of modern times seems to have failed
in equalling the skill in this respect of the Anglo Saxons.

On the other hand, the present integral defects of the consti-
tution, seem mainly attributable to the Normans; and the struggle
betw^een the Crown, the Nobles, and the Commons, from the
^period of the crafty invasion, and falsely called conquest of the
first William, down to the present hour, has had for its main
object, the restoration of the constitution to its Saxon form, by
divesting it of its Norman incumbrances. The whole feudal
system and its extensive ramifications illustrate this. Equality
among freemen so far as it can be consistent with general protection
prevailed during the Saxon period ; each man was answerable
for his neighbour, the land was allodial, and the law was admin-
istered not as an abstruse science but on a few general well
known principals, by the neighbours and equals of the parties
accused or litigating, but the feudal principals introduced by the
Normans were very different from those of equality, cultivated
by their predecessors. Dependency is the very spirit of the
feudal system, and though much of the details in particular cases
are now lost from disu etude, still at the present moment every
acre of land in the country is held in the eye of the law of some
superior lord, and equality in principle can hardly be said to
exist.

In like manner the origin and almost every defect which can,
with all the acumen of modern intellect, be reasonably detected
in the constitution may be traced to a period subsequent to the
Anglo Saxon Kings, while nearly all the excellences we can
boast of in it owe their existence to a previous period.

We venture to state this conclusion, with slight modification,
in a general form, the authors of the history of the boroughs have
established it in the particular subject of their enquiries. True
it is we learn from them that the boroughs remained from the
Saxon period for some centuries not materially affected by
Norman reform. Equality prevailed in them, that is — the muni-
cipal governing officers were elected under the borough charters,
or by prescription by the body at large for a limited period. Till
the divisions in the Plantagenet family, select corporators or
freemen were unknown ; the Burgesses were all the inhabitant

REVIEW. 11

householders, and these altogether constituted the commonalty
of the place.

But when the right of kings came to be decided by the sword,
between the rival houses of York and Lancaster, the reigning
king, whether de facto or de jure, soon found, that his title was
much strengthened against his rival by the possession of the good
will, and physical strength of the inhabitants of the different
boroughs; the nobles were exhausted, and their dependents and
retainers reduced by constant struggles ; the meaner sort, therefore,
of freemen, were elevated in proportion as the old military strength
of the monarchy was depressed, and the king deigned to court
the personal, as well on the pecuniary aid and assistance of the
citizens and burgesses : and thus we find, by the work before us,
that the first creation of a municipal corporation by the crown,
was in the 18th of Henry the 6th, (1439) when the King granted
his charter to Kingston-upon-Hull, separating from the juris-
diction of the sheriff", and constituting the whole borough, that is
all the responsible inhabitants, a corporate county of itself.

The ordinary progress of society was slowly raising the commons
into importance, but the civil wars of the fifteenth century
effected this with great rapidity, the example of the Lancastrians
in encouraging the municipal corporations was followed by the
Yorkists, and hence these bodies, by repeated charters of incor-
poration, had become so important, that the Tudor family
found it prudent to court them by the like extension of similar
favors.

In many of the boroughs, the leet jurors and officers elected
half yearly by the inhabitants, had been continued as a matter
of course for several succeeding years, till at length they assumed
a permanent character, filled up vacancies in their numbers
themselves and exercised all the powers of office not as tempo-
rary delegates but by an assumed indefeasible right, and thus
constituted themselves a body selected from the burgesses at
large.

The Tudor family and the Stuarts seem to have found it more
subservient to their view of strengthening the power of the Crown
to encourage rather than repress these local usurpations, and
hence we find, by the work before us, that almost countless
charters were granted by these princes, some, by way of apology,
falsely asserting, that the select bodies were prescriptive or
immemorial, and others without even this pretence encorporating
select bodies of individuals in the place and constituting them to

12 REVIEW.

be in effect what the whole inhabitants were in more ancient
times, i. e. the freemen or corporators of the borough, and but
for the limitations put on the authority of the crown by the end
of the 17th century, every borough at large would have become,
as most of them actually did become, subject to a few corporators,
created by the Crown, continued in being by its favor and pro-
tection, and subservient therefore to every object good or bad
the king might contemplate.

It is impossible, in the compass of a brief notice, to do any
thing like justice to this laborious work. In a mere historical
point of view it is highly valuable, as every statement is authen-
ticated by records referred to, none of the conclusions therefore
are gratuitous, and even they who doubt are provided with the
means of confirming or correcting their own judgment.

It must be confessed however, that the work places the Res
jesta both of the House of Commons and of the courts of justice
in a very unfavorable point of view. It appears that in the
majority of the parliamentary boroughs, committees of the house
have decided on one occasion, reversed their decision on a second,
and sometimes returned again to their first determination. There
is evidently no intention on the part of the authors of this work
to slander or misrepresent, but facts speak for themselves, and
when the contrary opinions of committees on occasions so similar
as to be all but identical are considered, one can only suppose
that party spirit must have had some influence in these deter-
minations, and that the views and wishes of the members must
in some cases have perverted their judgments, if they had no
influence on their integrity.

*It should seem moreover as if the courts of justice, instead of
.looking into general principles, or taking cognizance of the general
history of corporations, had too often assumed that a very limited
usage was evidence of an immemorial right; the question of
corporate prescription could never arise before the courts till after
a considerable usage, and till after all living testimony against
the antiquity of such usage had ceased to exist, and as these
usurped usages were in general so favorable to the crown it is
not to be wondered at that judges were unwilling to disturb
them.

And here we would pause to observe how baneful in the result
is sure to be the departure in any case from a strict line of duty.
The reiterated confirmations by the House of Commons and the
courts of justice of the usurpations of the select corporators, has

REVIEW. 13

le^ eventually to that state of the representation which called so
imperiously and so necessarily for parliamentary reform ; the
necessity for this reform is admitted by all, the dangers of it
strike different minds with more or less force, but the necessity
and the danger would have been equally avoided had the general
history of municipal corporations been calmly investigated, and
the legal remedies for those abuses of the parliamentary repre-
sentation at least, been unsparingly and honestly applied. Had,
in short, the citizen and burgesship been restored, as matter of
right and not of corporate election, to the responsible inhabitant
householders, enrolled from time to time at the leet, the King's
court of the borough, where their pretensions to the character of
citizen or burgess might be canvassed in a constitutional manner
by a jury, and their right, when ascertained, duly registered, a
right which would carry with it the parliamentary franchise
according to the tenor of the King's Writ.

We shall insert but a single extract, and that from the closing
page of the work, which extract, it will be seen, in moderate
language, points out the inadequacy of the means to the end
proposed by the reform bill, and suggests as much more simple
and effective a restoration of the parliamentary franchise to its
pristine state.

" Notwithstanding the parliamentary franchise forms no part of
our enquiry, it is impossible to close this work without a refer-
ence to one portion of it which is materially connected with the
due formation of the lists of the burgesses. A mode of framing
the list of the voters has been established by the act of the legis-
lature, and had experience proved the practical utility of that
system, it would be expedient to abide by it.

But, without any disposition needlessly to censure or complain,
it is impossible not to say that a more imperfect plan has rarely
been suggested ; and it is not immaterial to add, that it has been
accompanied with no small portion of expence.

There can be no doubt but that the gentlemen who have been
appointed to superintend the formation of these lists, have done
all that knowledge, talent, and zeal could effect in the undertaking ;
and have, by their intercourse with the conflicting parties, tended
in a great degree to lessen the virulence of election disputes.
But it was impossible to do more than was effected by the im-
perfect means placed in their hands.

The real defect in the system is, that it was intended merely
to form a list of voters which had never before existed in this
country — and, it is believed, in no other till a very recent date.

Before this experiment was tried, the conflicting motives of
privilege and burden operated upon the lists which were formed

14 REVIEW.

from whence the voters where ascertained, as the land-tax assess-
ments, the poor-rates, the entries of freemen, for which service
had been performed, or some expence for stamps or otherwise
had been incurred; — and a variety of considerations induced
those who made the lists to endeavour to form them as perfectly
as possible. On the other hand it was the immediate interest of
the person who was charged, not to incur the expence if he could
legally avoid it. But in the present mode it is not the interest of
any person to take care that the lists are correct — the time at
which they will be brought into action is uncertain — those who
formed them are totally indifferent to the subject, and have neither
inducement nor knowledge enough to make them complete or
systematic.

On the other hand, in some particular places, when a tempo-
rary excitement happens to exist, an unusual effort is made by
partisans to crowd upon the register as many votes as can be
placed there, or to embarrass the inquiry with us many objections
;is can be suggested — whilst in other places, the utmost indiffer-
ence prevailing, the omissions are numerous, and often of those
who would be most qualified to give a discriminating vote.

In truth, after a short time, it is obvious that the lists will be
altogether under the control of active agents.

To those who have had an opportunity of witnessing the oper-
ation of this system, it must be known, that more imperfect lists
of the voters have never been found than since it came into action.

But it is not our province to suggest alterations or corrections
in this respect — it is sufficient to say, that it is not a system which
holds out any inducement to carry it further — but affords a strong
reason, as far as the municipal institutions are concerned, to look
for some better method of ascertaining the burgesses in the boroughs .

The errors to be avoided are those of merely making a list of
burgesses, without the self-acting and correcting principle of
opposing interests, resulting from the possession of privileges, and
the imposition of burdens. And the other of making lists for any
temporary purpose, instead of framing them with the intention of
their being permanent and continual. Not only are these pi'in-
ciples clear, but, fortunately, the mode of carrying them into
♦execution is distinctly pointed out by the law, and can be effected
in a form and manner particularly acceptable to the people ; for
by the old law the list of persons who were to enjoy the muni-
cipal privileges was made in the public court of the people, in
the presence of all the inhabitants, under the sanction of a sworn
judge, and regulated and corrected by the decision of a jury.
And the list so formed remained as the permanent record of the
burgesses of the place, entitled to all the privileges, but subject
to all the burdens, and liable to be called upon at at all times, as
well for the exercise of franchises, as for the discharge of duties.

Such is the plain, simple, public, and inexpensive mode of
forming the lists which the law prescribes — reason sanctions —

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 15

and practice would easily execute. And it is no small recom-
mendation of such a system, that it will not be under the control
of agents or others, but will in fact be executed by the people
themselves, in their proper turn and rotation, which will be the
surest guard against all mal-practices or improper conduct.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN, R. N.

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

(From the Naval Chronicle.)

It was on Monday, the 6th of January, 1804, that our ship, the Hussar,
Captain Wilkinson, made sail from Ares Bay, in Spain, with dispatches from
Sir Edward Pellew, for England, with a fresh breeze from the S. W. Tuesday,
7th., wind and weather nearly the same. At nooii (to the best of my recol-
lection), observed, in latitude 46 degrees 50 minutes, Ushant, bearing N. 37
degrees E., distance 113 or 14 miles. Wednesday, 8th., wind N. E. by E.
running nine knots an liour. Every heart elated with joy, expecting in a few
hours so be safe moored in the land of liberty ; some employed writing to
their friends and relatives : but, alas ! how frail are the hopes of man ! how
different had our lot been decreed ; that happy arrival has, with many never
yet taken place. The miseries and vicissitudes we were doomed to suffer, will
amply appear in the subsequent pages.

At about 10. 45., steering the same course as above mentioned, and running
about 7 knots an hour, in dark hazy weather, we struck on the southernmost
part of the Saints ; beat over an immense reef of rocks ; carried away our
tiller in several pieces ; unshipped the rudder, and from the violence of
beating over, damaged the ship's bottom considerably, so that she made a
great deal of water. At length we got into deep water, and let go our bower
anchors to prevent being dashed to pieces on immense rocks a-head, on which
we were fore-reaching : sent top-gallant-yards and masts upon deck, and used
every possible means to ease and lighten the ship ; the major part of the crew
were at the pumps. The remainder, with the officers, were employed as was
most expedient — staving the water casks in the hold, shoaring the ship up, as
the ebb tide was now making, and she was inclining to starboard. The car-
penter reported the ship to be bilged, and we could distinctly hear the rocks
grinding and working through her, as the tide fell. At daylight Mr. Weymouth
(master) was sent to sound for a passage amongst the rocks, imagining we
might be able to buoy the ship through ; but he returned without success ;
though had he succeeded, from the state the ship was in, there could be very
little hope of getting her out. A division of the seamen and marines, with
their respective officers, was then ordered to go and take possession of the
island ; that in the last extremity there should be an asylum secured for the
crew and officers : the rest of the crew remained at the pumps, but with very
little success, as she kept gaining upon them. The island was taken without
any opposition, the only people on it being a few distressed fishermen, and
their families. About 11 A. M. began to land the crew, no hopes remaining
of being able to save our ship. However, the remainder of the people kept
still working at the pumps, waiting the return of the boats. At noon the
flood making strong, and fore-reaching withal. Captain Wilkinson gave direc-
tions to let go the sheet anchor, which was immediately done. Strong gales
from the S. W.

16 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

Thursday, February 9., 1804, at about 1 P. M. every body was safe landed,
with two or three pigs and some biscuit, which were the only subsistence we
had secured. Captain Wilkinson and Mr. Weymouth came in the last boat.
At about 1. 30. Lieutenant Pridham, Messrs. Carey, Simpson, and Thomas,
three warrant officers, with myself, were ordered by the captain to return to
the ship ; to cut her masts away, and destroy every thing we possibly could
get at. On our arrival on board, the water was nearly square with the
comings of the lower deck. At about 3. 30. quitted her, having executed with
the greatest accuracy the duty we were ordered upon. The wind still
increasing, which left us but little hopes of her hanging together for the night.
We joined the officers and crew in a little church, and this was the only place
on the island where we could conveniently take up our residence. A regular
watch being set, sentinels placed, patroles, &c. regulated ; the rest of the crew
endeavoured to repose themselves, being greatly fatigued. The weather was
excessively inclement during the night. At daylight, discovering the ship still
apparently whole. Captain Wilkinson dispatched Mr. Pridham, and Mr.
Mahony, master's mate, with a party of men, to destroy her by fire. The
other officers and people \yere employed equipping 13 fishing boats, which
belonged to the inhabitants, for the purpose of transporting the ship's company,
either to our fleet off Brest, or to England, as circumstances might admit.
Mr. Pridham and party returned, and the report of the ship's guns announced
the execution of the duty they had been sent upon. Friday, the 10th, at about
1. 30. P. M. boats were in readiness ; it then blowing haixl from the S. W.
We all embarked in tJiem. I had the honour to command one, with 25 men ;
Captain W. with the master, leading in the barge, which was the only ship's
boat in company. We made sail out of the little creeks in which the boats
had been moored ; the sea running excessively high ; and at about 2. the barge
hauled up to the N. W. We all of course followed. At 2. 30. or 3 o' clock
we bore up again ; several of the boats were in distress, they being very
badly found, having neither sails, rigging, nor ground tackling, that could be
at all trusted to. Lieutenants Pridham, Lutwidge, and Barker, were to keep
a-head, as no other boats had compasses. At about 5. in a very severe squall,
with rain, we lost sight of the barge ; every body was of opinion that she had
overset ; and at 5. 30. blowing excessively hard, with a heavy shower of rain,
we lost sight of all the boats. At about 6. observed St. Mattliew's Light on
the weather bow. The wind now choppe<l round to the N. W., in a very
heavy squall, which carried away our mainmast in the step, and fore-eye,
and very nearly swamped us, having almost filled the boat with water.
Chipped the heel of the main-mast, and rove the main-eye and halliards
forward ; which enabled us to set the fore-sail, and keep scudding, running
towards Rock Fort, with the expectation of falling in with some of the other
boats ; but were disappointed. At 11. determined to anchor in the bottom of
Bertheaume Bay, though very little or no hopes of riding long, our only ground
tackling being a small grappling, and a few fathoms of 1^ inch. We fortu-
nately succeeded in bringing up, though most miserably situated. The weather
tide running strong against a violent gale from the N. W. occasioned such a
sea, as to bury us frequently in its abyss. A. M. at 2. the sea breaking in a
most astonishing manner over us, and finding we were driving, and almost
touching abaft, expecting every second to be dashed to pieces on the rocks
astern of us ; we hauled in briskly on the grappling rope, hoisted the fore-
sail, and wore round : paying out the grappling rope just hauled in, until we
brought it right over the quarter, which enabled us to get our grappling on
board with ease, while we stood over to the Camaret Bay side, in the hope of
falling in with some little haven to shelter us, or with one of the other boats ;
but were disappointed in each expectation.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 17

At about 4. 30. finding we advanced towards Brest harbour considerably,
we resolved to try the grapnel once more ; although we were not in the
smallest degree sheltered from the inclemency of the weather, and were placed
immediately under a fort, which we distinguished by their lights, that enabled
us to see the sentinels on their posts walking to and fro. We made, if possible
worse weather here, than at our former anchorage, with the exception that
the grapnel held. At 7. 30. the wind and weather, if possible, became more
inclement than on the preceding night— not a boat of our's in sight ; every
minute expecting to be hailed by the fort ; not a soul among us that could
speak a word of French ; almost perished and starved from the fatigue and
sutferings of the night ; the few provisions we had being totally destroyed by
the salt water. Seeing no alternative, but the pain of delivering myself and
crew as prisoners of war, came at length to that resolution. Accordingly
ordered all the small arms to be hove overboard, and at 8. cut the grapling
rope, and ran into Brest harbour under the fore-sail. Imagining my crew
and myself might be better treated and received on board the commander-in-
chief's ship, than a private one, I went alongside the Alexander, which ship
bore his flag ; where I was received with the utmost civility and attention,
provided with a shift of dry clothes, got me instantly a warm draught, and
gave each of my men a glass of liquor, and ordered them breakfast, and
every thing that was necessary to recruit them. They informed me that the
whole of the boats, except mine and another, from the violence of the weather,
arrived in the night ; that they had been under the greatest apprehensions for
our safety, as it was not supposed possible, from the size of the boats, and the
manner they were found, that they could stand the severity of the night.
Lieutenant Barker, Mr. Nepean, midshipman, and Mr. Carey, boatswain, who
had been on board one of the other ships, came on board to congratulate me
on our safe arrival ; and feared very much that Mr. Gordon, midshipman, who
commanded the boat missing, was no more.

Saturday, the 11th, (1804) at 2 P. M. we were all sent on shore to the hos-
pital at Blest, which was the place designed for us ; each of us being more or
less indisposed. I must here observe to the credit of the French seamen, that
a small leather trunk, in which I had saved a shift of linen, &c. was taken out
of one of my men's hands, for the purpose of saving him trouble, and handed
down into one of the lower-deck ports : the fellow, who remained on the
ship's gangway, supposed it a piece of kindness, and imagined it was safely
deposited in the boat that was to conduct us ou shore ; nor was it discovered
until the trunk could not be found on our landing ; when I immediately
exposed the circumstance to the officers who conducted us, who instantly sent
on board to have a search, and appeared excessively hurt, at such a piece of
villany being committed by one of their crew : assured me the perpetrator
should be severely punished, and I should have my things safely returned ;
this I despaired of very much, thougli the former I thought might take place.
In the mean time, those officers conducted us to the hospital, insisted upon my
wearing my sword all the way, which the captain had refused to receive on
board ; observing, that I had been unfortunately wrecked, and not taken in
fight, consequently had no right to lose my sword ; and he further remarked,
that in his opiuron, we ought to be returned to our native country, and should
not be considered as prisoners ; but added that the gaoler on shore would
deprive me of it ; which was afterwards the case. On our arrival at Iho
hospital, or rather prison (as we were closely watched and guarded), the
gaoler took away my sword, and appeared very much enraged at my not
allowing him to take my belt: this, 1 observed, to him, could do no mischief.
1 now had the inexpressible happiness of shaking hands with all the officers,
except Mj-. Thomas (carpenter), who was unfortunately drowned in attempting

VOL. VI. — 1835. c

18

StffEtllNGS OF LIEtTENANT 0*BRIEN.

to land in Berthaume Bay, and Mr. Gordon, midshipman, who, I was very
moch pleased to hear, was safe at Conquet, where he effected a landing. We
expected him and boat's crew round to Brest the following day. On the 14th,
we had the pleasure of seeing him and crew safe arrived : they spoke very
handsomely of the treatment tjiey received at Conquet, and on the march. I '
now received part of the things that were in the trunk, and the thief I was
informed had run the gauntlet.

We were very well used during our stay here ; and were attcnde<I by
religieuses, or old nuns, which is a general custom in all the French hospitals ;
they were the most attentive nurses I ever beheld, constantly on the alert,
visiting their patients, administering relief wherever it might be wanting,
and solacing the comfortless. On the 18th of February, we received infor-
mation that we should commence our march towards our depot on the following
morning ; accordingly, on the 19th, we were ordered to prepare, and to be
ready at a moment's notice. At about 8. we were all drawn up in the hos-
pital yard : Mr. Mahonj and myself placed ourselves, as we were wont, next
to the lieutenants (being the senior )iiidshipmen), but to our great snprise on
calling the names over» we were moved, and placed next to the people together
with Mr. Carey, boatswain, and Mr. Simpson, gunner. They at the same
time offered us a brown loaf of broad each, for our day's subsistence, which
we declined. We demanded an explanation of this conduct ; they informed
us, we were of a class (master's mates) different from any in their navy; that
we were ranked as adjutants, sous ofticiers, and they could not alter it, &c.
Lieutenant Pridham now interfered ; who, it appeared, from the preceding
night, had been acquainted that we were thus ranked, but not being versed in
military regulations, supposed that adjutant was between midshipman and
lieutenant, which he (of course) thought our proper place. After remonstrating
a long time on the impropriety of our being placed in the ranks, among the
people, the officer agreed to go to the minister of marine, to have the business^
as he termed it, arranged : he shortly returned— the minister of marine was
out, but his head clerk, or secretary, assured us that the mistake should be
rectified, the moment he returned, and that a courier would be dispatched
after us to the next stage, with another feuille de route. Thus far reconciled
we commenced our march, as they informed us, for Verdun, in Lorraiu.

At about 7 in the evening (February 19th., 1804), we arrived at our first
stage, a village na^ed Landerncau, about 20 miles N. E. of Brest: I expected
every moment the arrival of the courier. Here we were allowed to mix with
the officers, though as a great favor : our allowance was 11 sols per day, and
the youngest mid. had fifty. In the morning, at day-light, 20th., commenced
our march, rather more dejected than the day before ; in the evening we
arrived at a small village (Landivisiau), a distance of 5 or 6 leagues from
Landerneau. Here we halted for the night, and the people were placed in
stables, barns, &c. At daylight on the 21st, commenced our march towards
Morlaix. At about 2 in the afternoon, at 4 or 5 miles distance from the
town, we were met by a captain of gens d'armerie and two gens d'armes, who,
Ave understood afterwards, came out to escort us into town. They had not
long joined us, when I happened to discover one of the ship's boys lift his
hand to strike one of the young midshipmen. I immediately ran up and
chastised the youngster with a switcli I fortunately had in my hand ; but mark
my amazement! when I beheld this blustering captain 'of gens d'armerie
foaming at the mouth, and riding up towards me at full speed, with his sword •
drawn : he appeared in a very great rage, swore vehemently, and wielded his
sword repeatedly over my head. As I did not understand a syllable that he
spoke, but was certain it must be abusive language, from the passion he put
himself into, I (parrot like) repeated his own expressions as well as I could ;

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 19

^vhich irritated him to such a degree, that had not the officer of infantry who
was escorting us, and our own officers, interfered, I do not know to what
length he might have carried the business. The officer of infantry expostu-
lated with him on the impropriety of drawing his sword upon a naked
prisoner, who could not even understand a word that he said ; he declared and
persisted, that I spoke as good French as he did ; that we were all prisoners
alike ; that we were now in a country where every man enjoyed liberty, and
he would take care, that while with him, we should not tyrannise over one
another. I observed, there were some of the crew who understood him, and
who explained his conversation to the others, which appeared to please them
extremely. We had not marched more than a mile, when a circumstance
took place, which gave us all a specimen of the liberty just boasted of: a poor
man, at least 70 years of age, happened to be conducting a cart along the
road ; and as he was approaching us, this lover of liberty called to him to turn
his horses and cart aside, until we had passed ; but the poor unfortunate old
man not hearing, and continuing his way, this brute rode up to him, and beat
and mauled the poor old creature so unmercifully, that the seamen literally
hissed him, and asked repeatedly if that was the liberty he so much vaunted
about, but a few minutes before ?

At about five, we arrived at Morlaix : the people were placed as usual ;
the officers were allowed to go to a tavern. On inquiry, I found this captain
of gens d'armerie had been a weaver before the revolution, and got advanced
by his perfidy to the rank he then held. I was informed that he visited our
people in the night, to induce them to turn traitors, and enter into the French
service ; but found himself much disappointed, as every proposal he made
was rejected with disdain. I had the pleasure of waiting on three countrymen
in the evening, who expected to be permitted (hourly) to return to their
native country. A Colonel Macnamara, a Mr. Scot, and a Mr. Fiol. They
had been detained before war was declared, and w ere so fortunate as to obtain
passports. I availed myself of this opportunity of acquainting ray friends with
my misfortunes.

The 22nd of February, about 8, we again commenced our route ; and after
a long march, arrived at a small village (Bell'isle en terre) where we
remained for the night, disagreeably situated, the village being excessively
poor, and small, the people imposing and extorting double price for every
thing. On the 23rd, at the usual hour, (about 8), we recommenced our route
towards Guingamp, were we arrived tolerably early. It is a spacious town
and appeared well peopled. We rested here during 24 hours, and were pretty
well used. On the 25th, at daylight, we recommenced our march towards
St. Brieuc, the last town on the sea coast that we had to touch at, and arrived
about 4 o' clock. We were very closely guarded, which certainly was
necessary, as it was the intention of a great number to slip their fetters at this
town : however it proved impossible. We had another guard ordered here,
which we all regretted, as the officer who conducted us from Brest to this
place, was a perfect gentleman, and preserved the utmost moderation towards
the prisoners, who were not, by the bye, at all times very well behaved.

Feb. 26th., at day-light, we recommenced our route with our new guard.
About 10, in passing close to the sea, we were halted ; the guard loaded their
pieces, examined their locks, &c. They appeared rather alarmed, though
they were nearly as many as the prisoners in number. About 5, we arrived at
Lamballe, an ancient little town, the chief of the late duchy of Penthievre ;
and which gave the title of princess to the unfortunate lady who was massa-
cred at Paris, for her inviolable attachment to the late queen of France
Rennes is about 12 or 13 British leagues S. E. of this town.

20 - FISHES.

On tlie 27tb, at 8, began our march towards Rennes. We rested at Broons,
and Mountauban, and arrived at the city of Rennes the 29th. The officers
were allowed to go to a tavern, and we, who were ranked as adjutants, were
conducted with the ship's company to the common goal, where we were
'continued, notwithstanding a number of representations to the general
commanding here, until the 2nd of March, having had what they styled a
day's sejour. I should much rather we had continued en route, as we were
placed in this goal among criminals and malefactors of every denomination,
where we found ourselves covered with vermin, in spite of every effort used
to avoid it. We had now another guard ordered— joined our officers, and
were very much pleased to be once more in the pure air. Marched on
towards Vitre, where we arrived about 8 o' clock at night ; having gone over
nearly 10 leagues this day. We had great difficulty to get admitted into any
of the inns ; still more to procure any refreshments. Upon remonstrating with
the landlord at the miserable supper he had provided us, and the very high
price he had charged— he called us English dogs, told us that we ought to
have been glad to have got any thing, and the officer was to blame for not
placing us in a stable, or in some other place better appropriated for such
brutes than an inn— if he had his will, he \*^ould very shortly treat us as such
dogs merited, &c.

7o be continued.

(GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION, HABITAT, AND
MIGRATIONS OF FISHES.

Concluded from page 268 of volume V.

In the warm seas of the Tropics, and particularly in
the Pacific and Indian Oceans, certain genera belong
so constantly to the deep water, that they can rarely
be considered as seeking soundings ; such are Choe-
todons Acanthuri and Balistes ; delighting much to
roam about the vertical reefs and islands which
abound in those latitudes, and often have more than
one hundred fathoms of water close upon their edge ;
the balistes in particular, notwithstanding that they are
in want of those vigorous means of swimming which
appear to be an indispensable requisite for distant
voyages, seem nevertheless from some unascertained
cause, to have wandered to the utmost extent of the
warm seas, since there are individuals of species, that
must be admitted to be identical, found from the
coasts of China and Java to the Mediterranean and

FISHES. 21

the United States.* Where coral reefs shelve into
basins and creeks of less depth than one hundred
fathoms, Acanthopterygians of the Sparoid, Percoid,
Scienoid, and Labroid families are detected, and
further out in depths exceeding the above, the large
eyed species of Priacanthus, Chatoessus, Pomato-
mus, Etehs, Cheilodipterus, &;c., keep mostly far
belov^ the surface ; as indeed the inferior powers of fin
and enlarged organs of vision, sufficiently testify.
Above them, Prionotes, Pirabebes and Pteroids,
escape from their enemies by darting above the
surface in the same manner as flying fish, but with
flights of less dimension and in different curves.
To the naturalist who is inured to a tropical sun and
the glaring effect reflected from the placid sea, it is
a spectacle not a little interesting, to stand motion-
less at the extremity of the far projecting ledge of a
reef, where the dull swell makes but slight heavings>
at his feet, and observe the vivid flashes of light and
brilliant colors every, now and then reflected from the
bright waters, where the sun shines in upon the
stony harbours and pinnacles of the coral animals
below the surface, and gaudy Vrack fish and Serrani
dart about in various directions, or hang motionless
in mid water, reflecting their exact shadows on the
whitened surface beneath them. To see nearer to the
eye, and almost on the surface, small scintillating
specks protruded in all directions from the pores
of the corals, shewing the minute inhabitants in all
the glory of their irridescent hues ; but if his foot
move or his own shadow indicate but in the slightest
degree a change of posture, to find that all have
vanished ; still small crabs and other Crustacea may
scamper around him ; and then the dark form of a
large fish, perhaps a Sphyraena Barracoota or a
Scorpena can be traced below, where thewaters pass
from their bright sea green tint into deepened blue.
Next he sees a shoal or several shoals of fry at the

* Such are Balistes Americanus, B., Scaber, B., Ringens, &c.

22 FISHES.

same moment, conglomerates of many thousands
of young fishes, steahng out from some cavern near
the surface and coasting among the shoals, when
perhaps, the flicker of a passing depredator below,
or the shadow of a hovering sea bird aloft, produces
a sudden rush, and all have taken shelter under the
bank. Further out in the deep blue sea he hears
the noise of a ripple and he sees the Skip Jack or
the Balahoo (Scomber Saliens and Hemiramphus)
hopping on the surface of the waters by means of a
peculiar action of their tails. Next comes an unusual
stillness far and near, nothing appears to move, but
presently the huge dorsal of an enormous shark is
visible above the water, moving sluggishly forward
as if void of purpose, and looking attentively down ;
the observer may perhaps perceive one or more
Pilot fish, Naucrates Ductor, already in advance,
straggling as if in quest of prey for the monster,
while he passes on it would seem in a heedless course.
Next he may be startled by a sudden splash behind
him, and turning round observe only circles on the wa-
ter, but in a momenta bird is seen emerging from the
deep, a Procellaria, a Pelican, a Sterna, or perchance
a Tachypetes aquillus (Frigate bird), and rising into
air to bear off' the prey upon which he had darted
from above ; or looking along the horizon he sees
them intercept flying fish before they can return to
the water, or still more singularly pursue the gulls
and boobies, strike them with their wings, and com-
peUing them to disgorge their food, catch it in the
fall ere it reaches the surface. In the offing, where
a passing breeze occasionally ruffles the sea into the
deepest indigo, as the sun declines towards fiery
banks of red clouds, he may occasionally observe
some of the larger Cetacea (Grampus and Blowers)
snorting and spouting water into the air, and gambol
in the deep, sometimes shooting their whole enormous
length high above the surface. This is, however,
considered a sign of foul v^^eather, especially if about
the same period the sea fowl are seen circling and

:PisHES. 23

screaming, and soon after betake them, with all the
swiftness of their own sharp wings, towards the shore :
then also may the observer feel the effect of a tropical .
atmosphere, by the intenseness of his head-ache;
and as he turns towards home first discover that the
mountains inland are charged with clouds, and vivid
lightnings are playing around them. In vain has he
stood in the shade of an umbrella, which now again
is to skreen him from the night dews. If his return
be by means of a canoe, the night become dark, and
his course be through creeks among the mangroves,
his weaned attention will still be revived by the
myriads of small fish springing about in all directions,
some generally mullets, leaping even within board,
and, if silence be preserved, he may on some occasi-
ons be surprised by the noise of an alligator, closing
his jaws as if it were the fall of a trap door. But to
return to our subject.

Where shoaUng waters have sandy bottoms and
form valleys, from sixty fathoms upwards, Trunk fish
and Expansile Diodons are frequent; and where
banks of about forty fathoms occur, particularly in
temperate regions, many species are met of those
families, whose heavy bony heads require ventral
fins beneath the throat, and indicate that their habi-
tual position in the deep is with the head downwards,
grovelling for bivalves ; here also we may find their
particular enemies, and the deep water flat-fish^
forming assemblages of all the Gadoid (cod-fish)
families, together with Chimceras, Bogmari, Anarhi-
cas, Hippoglossi, ground sharks, dog fish, and other
squali, v/ho only forsake this kind of prey to follow
the columns of Clupese (herring) which in their sea-
son are seen advancing above these plains, coming
from the polar seas to fulfil their destinies along the
coasts and estuaries of more genial climates. From
more sunny seas other columns come also to the
temperate latitudes, such as the genera of Scomber
and Mugil (Mackerel and Mullet), but the former
make a longer stay and come closer in with the

24 FISHES.

shore, while the latter are fish of passage, accessible
only for a short time. In similar depths, and in less,
but where the ground is often found to be more
broken, other species of Scomber, the Caranx, with
Centronotus, Lepidolepes, Trigla, Centropomus,
Holocentrum, Scarus, Bodianus and Tetragonurus
reside ; where the ground shoals still more and offers
soft muddy bottoms, we find the favorite repose of
stationary fishes, those who with their broad fins,
rather fly than swim, are mostly destitute of air blad-
ders and by nature burrow beneath the soil, such as
all the Rays and Plearonectus, Congers, Lophii,
Cepolae, and on firmer bottoms, Cyclopteri, Blennies,
Zei, and Ammodytes.

Within twenty-five fathoms water, where the
power of the sun and the action of the tides begins
to admit the growth of submarine vegetation, where
Algaj, Cauhnese, Ulvae, Confervse, and Zoophytes,
support numerous submarine animals, the genera
Ophidium, Stromateus, Murcena, Uranoscopus, Tra-
chinus, Scorpcena, Peristedion, Labrus, Sparus, Lab-
rax, Esox, Murenophis, &c., chiefly resort; and
more in shore among the tide rocks, naked or
covered with weeds, are Syngnathi, Centrisci, smaller
Bleunii, Gobii, Batrachi, and Notopteri. Among the
stony and sandy flats of similar depth are met Lepa-
dogastri, Callyonimi, Lepidopides, Gymnetri,Osmeri,
Scomberesoces, Argentinse, and Atherinse. These
with small Pleuronectes, and the fry of many others
frequent the brackish waters of estuaries, and the
young fish descend only into deeper seas when they
are sufficiently strong to separate from the clouds of
conglomerated thousands whicji are constantly seen
liovering about sandy shoals in tropical seas.*

• * The authorities for the above general view were drawn, 1st,
from personal researches on the west coast of Africa, on the east
coast of South America, Trinidad, St. Lucia, Donriinica, Barbar
does, Martinique, St. Vincent, Curacoa, Jamaica, Honduras Bay,
Golfo dolce, the Gulf stream, the coasts of the United States, the

FISHES. 25

In the fresh water of lakes, mountain streams,
rivers and marshes, we meet with periodical visitants
from the sea and permanent tribes which have but
few representatives in salt water. Among the first,
the mountain mullets of Jamaica are remarkable ;
Salmones, Sturiones, many Percoides, Atherinae and
even Pleuronectes, may be reckoned ; in the second
series nearly the whole Cyprinoid (carps) and Silu-
roid (catfish) families occur, together with other
Salmones, Esoces, Cobeled, Loricaria, Petromysons,
&c. Some of these are formed to live in elevated
lakes, others have the power of ascending cataracts
and waterfalls of a most formidable nature, and there
are species which can quit the water, such as Peri-
opthalmi, and trip from stone to stone to overtake
their insect prey, prowl through meadows and pass
from pool to pool without peretation. There are
species which it is believed ascend into trees and nestle
in the small deposits of water often found in the
cup-shaped forms of parasitical plants ; such is the
Anabas Scandens of the Indian seas. But the facil-
ity of living in atmospheric air for many hours, is
indeed still most conspicuous in a small species of
Antennarius or Angler, the Chironectes Commer-
conii, which from the peculiar conformation of
its fins, shaped somewhat like arms, is enabled

estuary of St. Lawrence, Strait of Belleisle, coast of Halifax and
banks of Newfoundland, the British Channel, coast of Holland
and Belgium, the coast of Provence in the Mediterranean. — 2nd,
from notes and inquiries obtained from our riaval surveying officers
in the Bight of Benin, round the Cape of Good Hope, Straits of
Madagascar, Red Sea, Nicobar Islands, New Holland, China
seas, River Plata, Straits of Magellan, Cape Horn, Valparaiso,
Callao, California and the west coast of Ireland and Scotland. —
3rd, from Ripo Ichthyolope de Nice and other authors. I ought
also to name Peter Restive an intelligent provencal fisherman
who spent his youth on the Mediterranean, and for many years of
his after life was settled between Old Harbour and Port Royal,
Jamaica; one thoroughly acquainted with the whole fishing and
trading concerns along the Spanish Main and the islands.
VOL. VI. — 1835. D

2b FISHED

to run about and is even said to be capable of a kind
of education.

Air is, indeed, necessary to every kind of fish,
and particularly when the atmosphere is warm, most
of our Lacustrine species sport on the surface for no
other purpose. But in high latitudes the fresh water
species have almost invariably a power of surviving
exclusion from air when accompanied with cold, such
as occurs periodically, when ice covers the waters
and gradually increases, till in some places the fish
are nearly or entirely enclosed in it. When the frost
sets in, they at first dechne the bait and come to air
holes in the ice, but rarely ; as the cold increases, it
is found useless to attempt to fish ; for they sink in
the deepest water, and become torpid until the ap-
proach of spring, when they are again eager to bite
at the air holes cut open for that purpose. In the
St. Lawrence, however, which is seldom without
some natural openings through the ice, the fish are
more lively, and are sometimes speared by the
Indians ; and it is asserted, that, during hard frosts,
when drawn from beneath it, they freeze into a solid
mass of ice in a moment, and are almost as fragile ;
yet that they will revive even after many hours, if
they are carefully placed in water of a proper tem-
perature. Experiments tried about New York on
this subject, have not been crowned with success,
because it was believed, the frost which suspended
aninlation was not sufficiently intense. That ice in
the stomach even of a reptile will not destroy life, is
admitted in the United States, where rattle snakes
are not unfrequently found in the winter, torpid, and
with their food undigested and completely frozen
within them ; yet liable to become vivacious with
the least increase of temperature, and digestion
recommencing as if no suspension of the animal
functions had intervened. These phenomena are
therefore common to many species of fish, to several
serpents, as well as to Tritons. All these varieties
of powers and habits in fish, as in other animals, are

THE MOST WRETCHED. 27

however the result of conformation, and it is vain to
attempt to account for them, without first studying
in detail the structure of all their parts, the differences
which distinguish this structure from that of other
animals, and the modifications it receives in the
various families, genera, and species which consti-
tute this class of vertebrated creatures. But the
inquiry belongs entirely to the science of comparative
anatomy, not sufficiently attractive to interest the
general reader. To those who feel desirous of pur-
suing it further, we beg to recommend the perusal
of the several articles on the organization and ana-
tomy of fishes in the forty-first part of Mr. Griffith's
translation of Cuvier's " Regne animal,'' where the
whole question is reviewed, and, though greatly
condensed, complete instruction will be found by an
attentive reader.

C. H. S.

THE MOST WRETCHED.

A TALE.
BY MISS DIXON.

Akbar, sovereign of the East, amid the profusion of
all that power and splendour could bestow, experi-
enced the satiety of excess ; weary of delight, he
resolved to contrast his own pleasures with the suf-
ferings of others ; and that he might the better judge
of mankind, to find out in what consisted the greatest
misery.

On occasion of a festival which had brought to his
capital, strangers from every kingdom of his mighty
empire, he sent forth a proclamation commanding
every one who had known any severe or over-
whelming grief, to appear instantly at his palace.
Many were the sons of misery, who crowded the
gates of Akbar — but three, who seemed afflicted
with the deepest woe, were first admitted into his
presence, and were ordered to relate to his ear the
source of their afflictions.

28 THE MOST WRETCHED.

"Ruler of the world," exclaimed an aged man,
who forced himself before his companions, " thou
wouldest dive into the ocean of grief, to gather out
of it the pearls of wisdom. Thy slave was a fisher
in the waters of the great river which rolls its waves
around the walls of thy city : while yet but a youth,
as I was casting my net, a mighty prince came by
the side of the stream ; he looked at me for some
time, and then taking from his finger a diamond of
inestimable value, he flung it into the water. * After
thou shalt fish up that ring,* said he, * thou needest
to fish no more ; thou mayest clothe thee in silk and
gold, and sleep upon heaped rose leaves ! ' Oh,
Allah ! how gloriously did it sparkle in the sunshine,
as it sunk into the water ! From that instant 1
could think only of the ring : I dreamed of it a
thousand nights ; and every day, at the first glimpse
of the dawn, did I hasten to the river with my nets,
searching in vain for that jewel. The fish I caught
barely supplied my wife and children with a wretched
subsistence ; but we were never sad, because of the
ring. We thought — * one day it will come up, and
then we shall be rich and great, and never want to
labour any more.' Forty and seven years have I
lived in this hope : my wife died, and my children
left me — but I still had the ring to console me.
Yesterday, I went as usual, I just cast in my net, as
I had done ten thousand times before, and on taking
it up — Holy Prophet ! I saw, tangled in its meshes,
the ring ; — the very gem I had sought and fished
for all my life time to that very hour. It shone
brighter than the gates of Paradise ! I siezed hold
of it — I had it in my hand — I wiped away the dew,
that seemed like a httle cloud upon its face — I turned
it toward the sun that I might behold it in all its
beauty — alas, the radiance of its lustre dazzled my
sight, I let it fall again into the river, and the current
swept it away ! '*

The old man burst into tears and lamentations, so
that the hall resounded with the sobbings of his grief,

THE MOST WRETCHED. ^ 29

he was with trouble led away, and the second mourner
called forward ; his looks betokened that his calamity
had been great, and he began thus : —

'^Oh glorious Akbar, Lord of a hundred kingdoms !
it is thy will that I should relate the grief of my
bosom. I had a son ; the only child of my beloved
Shadi, who perished at the moment of his birth ; she
was beautiful as a Peri, and in the anguish of my
soul, I vowed never to love another. The child she
had left behind her, became my sole fountain of
happiness ; I spent my whole time in his education,
and my delight was to watch his daily improvement
in body and in mind. He was beautiful as a star of
heaven, and he soon surpassed all his teachers in
knowledge and in wisdom. He grew up like a young
cypress tree, in a garden of delights, breathing glad-
ness into every heart; but mine above all others
rejoiced that Allah had blest me with such a son.
My possessions were great, but they seemed little
for his sake, for they were to me but as a dew-drop,
compared to the son of my heart. I had heaped up
treasures of gold and of silver, and increased my
fields and lands for my heir. I built for him a palace
such as the princes of the East might rejoice in, and
joy seemed to grow familiar with his paths. Then
I sought for him, a consort worthy of his virtues,
and the daughter of a prince, the lovely Ganema was
his betrothed ; they would have been like the Rose
and the Almond-flower in their beauty. Heaven, I
thought, had blessed me beyond all the earth — but
on the morning of their marriage, the angel of Death
entered my habitation, he smote my beloved son to
the earth, his beauty and strength faded as a shadow.
The joy of my life, Oh King ! departed from me —
it lay buried in the tomb of my son ; my house is
the place of mourning, and my grey hairs shall
descend to the grave in the darkness of despair !
Who hath any grief like to mine ? "

As he concluded, his eyes were fixed on the
ground, and he seemed lost ill a trance of anguish.

30 THE MOST WRETCHED.

The sultan was touched with the father's grief ; he
was himself a father ; and while he thought of his
own children, blooming in health and beauty, com-
passion for an unhappy parent melted his soul. At
length the silence that came around the mourner,
smote his ear, like a sudden sound — he lifted his
eyes — he remembered the homage that waits on the
throne of kings ; he bowed in reverence, and gave
place to another. The third who presented himself
before the sultan, had in his mien and countenance,
a deep and moveless melancholy, like the cloud of
night covering the heavens and the earth — " Mighty
Akbar ! " he said, " I am Alhamet of Khorasm ;
dost thou then in the light of thy happiness desire
to be acquainted with the darkness of grief? I too
was once happy — but who can trust to the happiness
of earth, or the faith of men ? Alas, it were better
trust the tempestuous ocean, or the sandy desert,
than he whom thy heart loveth best ! I was great
among my people, and had wealth like heaps in the
wilderness ; I had men servants, and maid servants,
and horses, and camels, and flocks and herds at my
desire ; but these were not enough for my happiness ;
I spent my days in removing the pains of poverty
from the indigent ; and my nights in searching after
wisdom. At length I perceived that there is nothing
upon the earth so beautiful as friendship. I sighed
after some one, with whom to divide the blessings I
possessed, and from whom I might draw wisdom and
delight, as from an unfailing well. I considered
among all my acquaintance and dependents, if there
were a man worthy to become a friend. I conversed ;
I enquired ; I diligently sought after a companion to
my soul. There was one, whose heart seemed to
overflow with kindness ; his words were the strength
of wisdom : I observed him with delight ; I listened
to his voice, I said, ^ I have found a friend — precious
shall he be in my sight.' He shared my wealth, as
myself; he knew all my thoughts ; our alms and
our devotions were done together ; he was as another

THE MOST WRETCHED. 31

soul. Years passed away, and he seemed but the
more united in everything. At last a secret enemy
denounced me to the governor ; I was accused of
treachery to my country ; a letter which it was
declared I had written, was shown to him — I
was condemned without further proof and banished
from Khorasm. Before I departed, I gave over to
the hands of Abdallah (so was my friend called), all
my estate, my treasures, my household, all that I
had, 'we are one,' said I, ' distance will not divide
us ; — let me have from you what will suffice me in
my exile — the rest may you enjoy at ease, until it
please God that I shall share them again with you.*
I took with me a purse of gold, and went into Bac-
tria ; where at times I received from Abdallah, by
the hands of a travelling merchant a larger supply.
After five years, the governor who had condemned
me was deposed, and another appointed in his place :
I was then recalled, and I set out to return to
Khorasm. On the road my thoughts were taken up
with anticipating the delight with which Abdallah
would hail my return; the joy I should have in
hearing his voice, in partaking his regards, and
feeling the influence of his virtues. These thoughts
Hghtened the weariness of my journey, and after a
month spent in travel, I reached my own door. Be
thou the judge of my astonishment. Oh mighty
Akbar, when on entering I beheld a stranger the
master of my house ; and on hastily asking for Ab-
dallah, I was told that he had, many weeks before,
sold all my property ; and taking the price, was gone
into a distant country, no one knew wither. Despair
siezed upon my soul ; I flung myself upon the earth
and became senseless ; and when my thoughts
returned, what was their sole object — alas! the per-
fidy of a friend ! the falsehood of him who was dear
to me as my own life ! whom I had trusted as my
very soul ! The loss of my possessions was as
nothing — I could yet live ; industry might even
restore me to wealth, — but what can restore the loss

32 THE MOST WRETCHED.

of a friend ? Alas, I distrust all men ; the confidence
of my own heart has left me ; the captive who pines
in a dungeon, or the slave perishing of thirst in the
midst of the desert, is not so wretched as I am — for
they have not known the falsehood of Abdallah ! ''

As Alhamet finished his story, the Sultan was
lost in sympathy : he shared the sorrows of him who
mourned the deceit of a friend ; at length he spoke
thus : —

" The griefs of him who lost the ring are least, for
even I, a mortal man as he is, can restore the boon
for which he pines. The gem on this finger is enough
to call back peace to the soul of the mourner ; why
should any one be wretched whom so small a cost
may make happy ! "

" He who weepeth for his dead son, hath an anguish
far greater than the fisherman, for he shall find no
solace on this side Paradise — but God can hereafter
recompense him, and after the last day he shall
again clasp to his bosom the dear son, whom he shall
behold no more on earth : joy will then be added to
him for all he suffers now — let him bear in patience
the chastening of the Most High ! ''

'* The griefs of Alhamet are greatest of all ; for
what can compare with the perjuries of a friend?
Abdallah can be restored to him no more ; neither
in this world, nor in that which shall be. The traitor
quencheth even the mercy of God ; — the light of
Paradise may shine on Alhamet, but it shall remind
him for ever of the darkness of Abdallah ! "

33

THE HAPPY BEAUTY AND THE BLIND SLAVE.

A SLAVE entered the chamber of lone. A messenger from
Glaucus desired to be admitted,
lone hesitated an instant.

"She is blind, that messenger/* said the slave; "she will do
her commission to none but thee.^'

Base is that heart which does not respect affliction! The
moment she heard the messenger was blind, lone felt the impos-
sibility of returning a chilling reply. Glaucus had chosen a
herald that was indeed sacred — a herald that could not be denied.

" What can he want with me ? what message can he send ? '^
and the heart of lone beat quick. The curtain across the door
was withdrawn, a soft and echoless step fell upon the marble.
And Nydia, led by one of the attendants, entered with her
precious gift.

She stood still a moment, as if listening for some sound that
might direct her.

" Will the noble lone," said she, in a soft and low voice,
" deign to speak, that I may know whither to steer these benighted
steps, and that I may lay my offerings at her feet ? "

"Fair child,'' said lone, touched and soothingly, "give not
thyself the pain to cross these slippery floors, my attendant will
bring to me what thou hast to present ; " and she motioned to
the hand-maid to take the vase.

" I may give them to none but thee," answered Nydia; and
guided by her ear, she walked slowly to the place where lone
sate, and kneeling when she came before her, proffered the vase.

lone took it from her hand, and placed it on the table at her
side. She then raised her gently, and would have seated her on
the couch, but the girl modestly resisted.

" I have not yet discharged my office," said she, and she drew
the letter of Glaucus from her vest. " This will, perhaps, ex-
plain why he who sent me chose so unworthy a messenger to
lone."

The Greek took the letter with a hand, the trembling of which
Nydia at once felt and sighed to feel. With folded arms, and
downcast looks, she stood before the proud and stately form of
lone; — no less proud, perhaps, in her attitude of submission.
Tone waved her hand and the attendents withdrew ; she gazed
again upon the form of the young slave in surprise and beautiful

VOL. VI. — 1835. E

34 THE HAPPY BEAUTY

compassion ; then, retiring a little from her, she opened and read
the following letter : —

" Glaucus to lone sends more than he dares to utter. Is lone
ill ? thy slaves tell me ' no,' and -that assurance comforts me.
Has Glaucus offended lone ? ah ! that question I may not ask
from them. For five days 1 have been banished from thy pre-
sence. Has the sun shone ? — I know it not ; has the sky smiled ?
— it has had no smile for me. My sun and my sky are lone. Do
I ofiend thee ? Am I too bold ? Do I say that on the tablet
which my tongue has hesitated to breathe ? Alas ! it is in thine
absence that I feel most the spells by which thou hast subdued
me. And absence, that deprives me of joy, brings me courage.
Thou wilt not see me; thou hast banished also the common flat-
terers that flock around thee. Canst thou confound me with
them ? It is not possible I Thou knowest too well that I am
not of them — that their clay is not mine. For even were I of the
humblest mould, the fragrance of the rose has penetrated me,
and the spirit of thy nature hath passed within me, to embalm,
to sanctify, to inspire. Have they slanderd me to thee, lone ?
Thou wilt not believe them. Did the Delphic oracle itself tell
me thou wert unworthy, I would not believe it : and am I less
incredulous than thou ? I think of the last time we met — of the
song which I sang to thee — of the look that thou gavest me in
return. Disguise it as thou wilt, lone, there is something kin-
dred between us, and our eyes acknowledge it, though our lips
were silent. Deign to see me, to listen to me, and after that
exclude me if thou wilt. I meant not so soon to say I loved.
But those words rush to my heart — they will have way. Accept,
then, my homage and my vows. We met first at the shrine of
Pallas ; shall we not meet before a softer and a more ancient
altar.

" Beautiful ! adored lone ! If my hot youth and my Athenian
blood have misguided and allured me, they have but taught my
wanderings to appreciate the rest — the haven they have attained.
I hang up my dripping robes on the Sea-god's shrine. I have
escaped shipwreck. I have found thee. lone, deign to see me ;
thou art gentle to strangers, wilt thou be less merciful to those of
thine own land ? I await thy reply. Accept the flowers which
1 send — their sweet breath has a language more eloquent than
words. They lake from the sun the odours they return — they
are the emblem of the love that receives and repays tenfold — the
emblem of the heart that drunk thy rays and owes to thee the

AND THE BLIND SLAVE. 35

germ of the treasures that it proffers to thy smile. I send these
by one that thou wilt receive for her^own sake, if not for mine.
She, like us, is a stranger; her father's ashes lie under brighter
skies ; but, less happy than we, she is blind and a slave. Poor
Nydia ! I seek as much as possible to repair to her the cruelties
of Nature, and of Fate, in asking permission to place her with
thee. She is gentle, quick, and docile. She is skilled in music
and the song; and she is a very Chloris to the flowers. She
thinks, lone, that thou wilt love her; if thou dost not, send her
back to me.

"One word more, — Let me be bold, lone. Why thinkest
thou so highly of yon dark Egyptian ; he hath not about him
the air of honest men ? We Greeks learn mankind from our
cradle ; we are not the less profound, in that we affect no som-
bre mien ; our lips smile, but our eyes are grave — they observe
— they note — they study. Arbaces is not one to be credulously
trusted : can it be, that he hath wronged me to thee ? I think it,
for I left him with thee ; thou sawest how my presence stung
him ; since then thou hast not admitted me. Believe nothing
that he can say to my disfavour ; if thou dost, tell me so at once ;
for this lone owes to Glaucus. Farewell ! This letter touches
thine hand ; these characters meet thine eye — shall they be more
blest than he who is their author. Once more, farewell !"

It seemed to lone, as she read this letter, as if a mist had
fallen from her eyes. What had been the supposed offence of
Glaucus ? that he had not really loved ! And now, plainly, and
in no dubi<^us terms, he confessed that love. From that moment
his power was fully restored. At every tender word in that
letter, so full of romantic and trustful passion, her heart smote
her. And had she doubted his faith, and had she believed
another ? and had she not, at least, allowed to him the culprit's
right to know his crime, to plead in his defence ? — the tears
rolled down her cheeks — she kissed the letter — she placed it in
her bosom ; and, turning to Nydia, who stood in the same place,
and in the same posture —

" Wilt thou sit, my child," said she, " while I write an an-
swer to this letter ?"

"You will answer it then?'' said Nydia, coldly; "well the
slave that accompanied me will take back your answer."

"For you," said lone, " stay with me — trust me, your service
shall be light."

Nydia bowed her head.

36 THE HAPPY BEAUTY

" What is your name, fair girl ?"

" They call me Nydia/*

" Your country V

" The land of Olympus — Thessaly."

" Thou shalt be to me a friend," said lone, caressingly, " as
thou art already half a country-woman. Meanwhile, I beseech
thee, stand not on these cold and glassy marbles — There 1 now
thou art seated, I can leave thee for an instant."

" lone to Glaucus greeting, — come to me, Glaucus," wrote
lone ; " come to me to-morrow — I may have been unjust to thee ;
but I will tell thee, at least, the fault that has been imputed to
thy charge. Fear not, henceforth, the Egyptian — fear none.
Thou sayest thou hast expressed too much — alas ! in these hasty
words I have already done so — farewell !"

As lone reappeared with the letter, which she did not dare to
read after she had written — (Ah ! common rashness, common
timidity of love !) — Nydia started from her seat.

" You have written to Glaucus ?"

" I have."

" And will he thank the messenger who gives to him thy
letter ?"

lone forgot that her companion was blind ; she blushed from
the brow to the neck, and remained silent.

" I mean this," added Nydia, in a calmer tone; "the lightest
word of coldness from thee will sadden him — the lightest kind-
ness will rejoice. If it be the first, let the slave take back thine
answer; if it be the last, let me — I will return this evening."

'^ And why, Nydia," asked lone, evasively, " wouldst thou
be the bearer of my letter ?"

" It is so, then !" said Nydia. " Ah ! how could it be other-
wise ; who could be unkind to Glaucus ?"

" My child," said lone, a little more reservedly than before,
" thou speakest warmly — Glaucus, then, is amiable in thine
eyes ? "

" Noble lone ! Glaucus has been that to me which neither
fortune nor the gods have been — a friend /"

The sadness mingled with dignity with which Nydia uttered
these simple words, affected the beautiful lone ; she bent down
and kissed her. "Thou art grateful, and deservedly so ; why
should I blush to say that Glaucus is worthy of that gratitude ?
Go, my Nydia — take to him thyself this letter — but return again.
If I am from home, when thou returnest — as this evening, per-

AND THE BLIND SLAVE. 37

haps, t shall be — thy chamber shall be prepared next my own.
Nydia, I have no sister — wilt thou be one to me V^

The Thessalian kissed the hand of lone, and then said, with
some embarrassment,

" One favour, fair lone — may I dare to ask it ?"

" Th^u canst not ask what I will not grant," replied the
Neapolitan.

" They tell me,*' said Nydia, " that you are beautiful beyond
the loveliness of earth. Alas ! I cannot see that which gladdens
the world ! Wilt thou suffer me then to pass my hand over thy
face — that is my sole criterion of beauty, and I usually guess
aright ?"

She did not wait for the answer of lone, but, as she spoke,
gently and slowly passed her hand over the bending and half
averted features of the Greek — features which but one image in
the world can yet depicture and recall — that image is the^ muti-
lated, but all wondrous, statue in her native city — her own
Neapolis ; — that Parian face, before which all the beauty of the
Florentine Venus is poor and earthly — that aspect so full of har-
mony— of youth— of genius — of the soul — which modern specu-
lators have supposed the representation of Psyche.

Her touch lingered over the braided hair and polished brow —
over the downy and damask cheek — over the dimpled lip — the
swan-like and whitest neck. " I know, now, that thou art beau-
tiful," she said, " and I can picture thee to my darkness henceforth,
and for ever ! "

When Nydia left her, lone sank into a deep but delicious
reverie. Glaucus then loved her; he owned it, yes, he loved
her. She drew forth again that dear confession ; she paused
over every word, she kissed every line; she did not ask why he
had been maligned, she only felt assured that he had been so. She
wondered how she had ever believed a syllable against him ;
she wondered how the Egyptian had been enabled ' to exercise a
power against Glaucus : she felt a chill creep over her as she
again turned to his warning against Arbaces, and her secret fear
of that gloomy being darkened into awe. She was awakened
from these thoughts by her maidens, who came to announce to
her that the hour appointed to visit Arbaces was arrived : she
started, she had forgotten the promise. Iler first impression was
to renounce it; her second, was to laugh at her own fears of her^
eldest surviving friend. She hastened to add the usual ornaments
to her dress, and doubtful whether she should yet question tlie

38 THE EVENING HYMN OF THE HOURS.

Egyptian more closely with respect to his accusation of Glaiicus,
or whether she should wait till, without citing the authority,
she should insinuate to Glaucus the accusation itself, she took
her way to the gloomy mansion of Arbaces.

From " TTie last days of Pompeii."

THE EVENING HYMN OF ^THE HOURS.

Through the summer day, through the weary day.

We have glided long ;
Ere we speed to the Night through her portals grey,
Hail us with song ! —
With song, with song.
With a bright and joyous song —
Such as the Cretan maid,

While the twilight made her bolder,
Woke, high through the ivy shade.

When the wine-god first consoled her.
From the hush'd, low-breathing skies,
Half-shut, look'd their starry eyes,
And all around,
With a loving sound.
The iEgean waves were creeping :
On her lap lay the lynxes head ;
Wild thyme was her bridal bed ;
And aye through each tiny space.
In the green vine*s green embrace,
The Fauns were slyly peeping : —
The Fauns, the prying Fauns,
The arch, the laughing Fauns —
The Fauns were slyly peeping !

Flagging and faint are we

With our ceaseless flight,
And dull shall our journey be
Through the Realm of Night.
Bathe us, O bathe our weary wings
In the purple wave, as it freshly springs
To your cups from the fount of light —
From the fount of light — from the fount of light,
For there, when the sun has gone down in night,

THE EVENING HYMN OF THE HOURS. 39

There in the bowl we find him.
The grape is the well of that summer sun,
Or rather the stream that he gazed upon,
Till he left in truth, like the Thespian youth,

His soul, as he gazed behind him.

A cup to Jove, and a cup to Love,
And a cup to the son of Maia,
And honour with three, the band zone-free.

The band of the bright Aglaia.
But since every bud in the wreath of pleasure

Ye owe to the sister Hours,
No stinted cups, in a formal measure,

The Bromian law makes ours.
He honours us most who gives us most.
And boasts with a BacchanaFs honest boast.
He never will count the treasure.
Fastly we fleet, then seize our wings.
And plunge us deep in the sparkling springs ;
And aye, as we rise with a dripping plume.
We ^11 scatter the spray round the garland's bloom.

We glow — we glow.
Behold, as the girls of the Eastern wave
Bore once with a shout to their crystal cave
The prize of the Mysian Hylas,
Even so — even so,
We have caught the young god in our warm embrace,
We hurry him on in our laughing race ;
We hurry him on, with a whoop and song,
The cloudy rivers of Night along —
Ho, ho I we have caught thee, Psilas !

40

"A FLASH HOUSE," IN POMPEII— AND THE
GENTLEMEN OF THE CLASSIC RING.

To one of those parts of Pompeii, which were tenanted
not by the lords of pleasure, but by its minions and
its victims — the haunt of gladiators and prize-fighters
— of the vicious and the penniless — of the savage
and the obscene — the Alsatia of an antient city — we
are now transported.

It was a large room, that opened at once on the
confined and crowded lane. Before the threshold
was a group of men, whose iron and well-strung
muscles, whose short and Herculean necks, whose
hardy and reckless countenances indicated the
champions of the arena. On a shelf, without the
shop, were ranged jars of wine and oil, and right
over this was inserted in the wall a coarse painting,
which exhibited gladiators drinking, so antient and
so venerable is the custom of signs ! Within the
room were placed several small tables, arranged
somewhat in the modern fashion of " boxes," and
round these were seated several knots of men, some
drinking, some playing at dice, some at that more
skilful game called, ^^ dnodecim scripts," which
certain of the blundering learned have mistaken for
chess, though it rather, perhaps, resembled back-
gammon of the two, and was usually, though not
always, played by the assistance of dice. The hour
was in the early forenoon, and nothing better, perhaps,
than that unseasonable time itself denoted the habi-
tual indolence of these tavern loungers. Yet, despite
the situation of the house and the character of its
inmates, it indicated none of that sordid squalor
which would have characterized a similar haunt in a
modern city. The gay disposition of all the Pom-
peians, who sought, at least, to gratify the sense
even where they neglected the mind, was typified
by the gaudy colours which decorated the walls,
and the shapes, fantastic but not inelegant, in which
the lamps, the drinking cups, the commonest house-
hold utensils were wrought. '

A "flash house" in POMPEII. 41

" By Pollux," said one of the gladiators, as he leant
against the wall of the threshold, " the wine thou
sellest us, old Silenus," and as he spoke he slap-
ped a portly personage on the back, " it is enough
to thin the best blood in one's veins."

The man thus caressingly saluted, and whose
bared arms, white apron, and keys and napkin
tucked carelessly within his girdle, indicated him
to be the host of the tavern, was already passed into
the autumn of his years ; but his form was still
so robust and athletic, that he might have shamed
even the sinewy shapes beside him, save that the
muscle had seeded as it were into flesh, that the
cheeks were swelled and bloated, and the increasing
stomach threw into shade the vast and massive chest
which rose above it.

" None of thy scurrilous blusterings with me,"
growled the gigantic landlord, in the gentle semi-
roar of an insulted tiger, " my wine is good enough
for a carcase which shall soon soak the dust of the
spoliarium."

" Croakest thou thus, old raven," returned the
gladiator, laughing scornfully, " thou shalt live to
hang thyself with despite when thou seest me
win the palm crown ; and when I get the purse at
the Amphitheatre, as I certainly shall, my first
vow to Hercules shall be to forswear thee and
thy vile potations evermore."

" Hear to him — hear to this modest Pyrgopo-
linices ! He has certainly served under Bombo-
chides Cluninstaridysarchides," cried the . host.
" Sporus, Niger, Tetraides, he declares he shall
win the purse from you. Why, by the gods, each
of your muscles is strong enough to stifle all his
body, or /know nothing of the arena !"

" Ha !" said the gladiator, colouring with rising
fury, " our lanista would tell a different story."

" What story could he tell against me, vain
Lydon ?" said Tetraides, frowning.

VOL. VI. 1835. F

42 A "flash house'' in POMPEII.

" Or me, who have conquered in fifteen fights ?"
said the gigantic Niger, stalking up to the gla-
diator.

" Or me V grunted Sporus, with eyes of fire.

" Tush ?" said Lydon, folding his arms, and re-
garding his rivals with a reckless air of defiance.
" The time of trial will soon come ; keep your
valour till then."

" Ay, do," said the surly host ; " and if I press
down my thumb to save you, may the Fates cut
my thread."

" Your rope, you mean," said Lydon, sneeringly ;
" here is a sesterce to buy one."

The Titan wine-vender seized the hand extended
to him, and griped it in so stern a vice that the blood
spirted from the fingers' ends over the garments of
the bystanders.

They set up a savage laugh.

" I will teach thee, young braggart, to play the
Macedonian with me.^ I am no puny Persian, I
warrant thee ! What, man ! have I not fought
twenty years in the ring and never lowered my arms
once? and have I not received the rod from the
Editor's own hand as a sign of victory, and as a
grace to retirement on my laurels ? And am I now
to be lectured by a boy ?" So saying, he flung the
hand from him in scorn.

Without changing a muscle, but with the same
smiling face with which he had previously taunted
mine host, did the gladiator brave the painful grasp
he had undergone. But no sooner was his hand
released, than crouching for one moment as a wild
cat crouches, you might see his hair bristle on his
head and beard, and with a fierce and shrill yell
he sprang on the throat of the giant with an impetus
that threw him, vast and sturdy as he was, from his
balance ; — and down, with the crash of a falling
rock, he fell ; — while over him fell also his ferocious
foe.

A ^^ FLASH house" IN POMPEII. 43

Our host perhaps had had no need of the rope so
kindly recommended to him by Lydon, had he
remained three minutes longer in that position.
But, summoned to his assistance by the noise of his
fall, a woman, who had hitherto kept in an inner
apartment, rushed to the scene of battle. This new
ally was in herself a match for the gladiator ,* she
was tall, lean, and with arms that could give other
than soft embraces. In fact, the gentle helpmate of
Burbo, the wine-seller, had like himself fought in
the hsts — nay, under the Emperor's eye. And
Burbo himself, Burbo, the unconquered in the field,
according to report, now and then yielded the palm
to his soft Stratonice. This sweet creature no sooner
saw the imminent peril that awaited her worse half,
than without other weapons than those with which
Nature had provided her, she darted upon the incum-
bent gladiator, and clasping him round the waist
with her long and snake-like arms, lifted him with a
sudden wrench from the body of her husband,
leaving only his hands still clinging to the throat of
his foe. So have we seen a dog snatched by the
hind legs from the strife with a fallen rival, in the
arms of some envious groom ; so have we seen one
half of him high in air — passive and offenceless —
while the other half, head, teeth, eyes, claws, seemed
buried and engulfed in the mangled and prostrate
enemy. Meanwhile the gladiators, lapped and
pampered and glutted upon blood, crowded dehght-
edly round the combatants — their nostrils distended
— their lips grinning — their eyes gloatingly fixed on
the bloody throat of the one — and the indented talons
of the other.

''Habet! (he has got it!) habet ! '' cried they
with a sort of yell, rubbing their nervous hands.

" Non habeo, ye liars, I have not got it," shouted
the host, as with a mighty effort he wrenched himself
from those deadly hands, and rose to his feet breath-
less, panting, lacerated, bloody ; and fronting with
reeling eyes, the glaring look and grinning teeth of

44 A "flash house" in POMPEII.

his baffled foe now struggling, (but struggling with
disdain) in the gripe of the sturdy Amazon.

" Fair play/' cried the gladiators, " one to one,''
and crowding round Lydon and the woman, they
separated our pleasing host from his courteous guest.
But Lydon, feeling ashamed at his present position,
and endeavouring in vain to shake off the grasp of
the virago, shpped his hand into his girdle, and
drew forth a short knife. So menacing was his
look, so brightly gleamed the blade, that Stratonice,
who was used only to the fistic methods of battle,
started back in alarm !

" O gods ! " cried she, " the ruffian ! — he has
concealed weapons ! is that fair ? Is that like a
gentleman and a gladiator? No indeed, I scorn
such fellows ! " With that she contemptuously
turned her back on the gladiator, and hastened to
examine the condition of her husband.

But he, as much inured to these constitutional
exercises as an English buli-dog is to a contest with
a more gentle antagonist, had already recovered
himself. The purple hues receded from the crimson
surface of his cheek, the veins of the forehead retired
into their wonted size. He shook himself with a
complacent grunt, satisfied that he was still alive,
and then looking at his foe from head to foot with
an air of more approbation than he had ever bestowed
upon him before —

" By Castor," said he, " thou art a stronger fellow
than I took thee for ! I see thou art a man of merit
and virtue ; give me thy hand, my hero."

" Jolly old Burbo ! " cried the gladiators applaud-
ing, " staunch to the back-bone — give him thy hand
Lydon."

" Oh, to be sure," said the gladiator : " but now
I have tasted his blood, I long to lap the whole." —
, " Per Hercle ! " returned my host, quite unmoved,
" that is the true gladiator feeling. Pollux ! to think
what good training may make a man ; why a beast
could not be fiercer ! "

A " FLASH HOUSE " IN POMPEII. 45

" A beast, O dullard ! we beat the beasts hollow !"
cried Tetraides.

"Well, well," said Stratonice, who was now
employed in smoothing her hair and adjusting her
locks ; " if ye are all good friends again, I recommend
you to be quiet and orderly ; for some young noble-
men, your patrons and backers, have sent to say,
they will come here to pay you a visit — they wish
to see you more at their ease than at the Schools,
before they make up their bets on the great fight at
the Amphitheatre. So they always come to my house
for that purpose : they know we only receive the
best gladiators in Pompeii — our society is very select
praised be the gods ! "

" Yes," continued Burbo, drinking off a bowl, or
rather a pail of wine, " a man who has won my
laurels can only encourage the brave. Lydon, drink,
my boy ; may you have an honorable old age like
mine ! "

" Come here," said Stratonice, drawing her hus-
band to her affectionately by the ears, in that caress
which Tibullus has so prettily described, "Come
here ! "

" Not so hard, she-wolf, thou art worse than the
gladiator," murmured the huge jaws of Burbo.

" Hist," said she, whispering him : " Calenus has
just stole in, disguised, by the back way ; I hope he
has brought the sesterces."

" Ho, ho, I will join him," said Burbo ; " mean-
while, I say, keep a sharp eye on the cups, attend to
the score. Let them not cheat thee, wife ; they are
heroes to be sure, but then they are arrant rogues ;
Cacus was nothing to them."

" Never fear me, fool," was the conjugal reply ;
and Burbo, satisfied with the dear assurance, strode
through the apartment, and sought the penetralia of
his house.

" So those soft patrons are coming to look at our
muscles,'^ said Niger : " who sent to previse thee of
it, my mistress ? "

46 BACCHIC HYMN TO THE IMAGE OF DEATH.

" Lepidus. He brings v^ith him Clodius, the
surest better in Pompeii, and the young Greek
Glaucus/'

" A wager on a wager," cried Tetraides : " Clodius
bets on me, for twenty sesterces, what say you,
Lydon?"

" He bets on mCy^ said Lydon.

" No, on /we," grunted Sporus.

^^ Dolts, do you think he would prefer any of you
to Niger?" said the athletic, thus modestly naming
himself.

"Well, well," said Stratonice, as she pierced a
huge amphora jfor her guests, who had now seated
themselves before one of the tables, " great men and
brave, as ye all think yourselves, which of you will
fight the Numidian lion, in case no malefactor should
be found to deprive you of the option V

" I who have escaped your arms, stout Strato-
nice," said Lydon, " might safely, I think, encounter
the lion."

BULWER.

BACCHIC HYMN TO THE IMAGE OF
DEATH.

Thou art in the land of the shadowy Host,

Thou that didst drink and love ;
By the Solemn River, a gliding ghost,
But thy thought is ours above !
If memory yet can fly
Back to the golden sky,
And mourn the pleasures lost !
By the ruined hall these flowers we lay,
Where thy soul once held its palace ;
When the rose to thy scent and sight was gay,
And the smile was in the chalice,

And the cithara's silver voice
Could bid thy heart rejoice
When night eclipsed the day.

Death, death is the gloomy shore.
Where we all sail,

BACCHIC HYMN TO THE IMAGE OF DEATH. 47

Soft, soft, thou gliding oar ;

Blow soft sweet gale.
Chain with bright wreaths the hours,

Victims if all,
Ever, 'mid song and flowers,

Victims should fall !
Since Life 's so short, we '11 live to laugh ;

Ah ; wherefore waste a minute !
If youth 's the cup we yet can quaff,

Be love the pearl within it !

Thou art welcome Guest of gloom,

From the far and fearful sea !
When the last rose sheds its bloom.

Our board shall be spread with thee !

All hail, dark Guest !

Who hath so fair a plea

Our welcome guest to be

As thou, whose solemn hall

At last shall feast us all —

In the dim and dismal coast ?

Long yet be we the Host !

And thou, Dead Shadow, thou,

All joyless though thy brow,

Thou — but our passing Guest J

Happy is yet our doom,

The earth and the sun are ours,
And far from the dreary tomb

Speed the wings of the rosy Hours —
Sweet is for thee the bowl,

Sweet are thy looks, my love;
I fly to thy tender soul.
As the bird to its mated dove !
Take me, ah take.
Clasped to thy guardian breast.
Soft let me sink to rest;

But wake me — ah wake,
And tell me with words and sighs.
But more with thy melting eyes.

That my sun is not set —
That the Torch is not quenched at the Urn,
That we love, and we breathe and burn.
Tell me — thou lov*st me yet I

48
THE HYMN OF EROS.

By the cool banks where soft Cephisus flows,
A voice sailed trembling down the waves of air ;

The leaves blushed brighter in the Teian's rose,
The doves couch'd breathless in their summer air ;

While from their hands the purple flowerets fell,
The laughing Hours stood listening in the sky ; —

From Pan's green cave to iEgle's haunted cell,
Heaved the charmed earth in one delicious sigh.

" Love, sons of earth ! I am the Power of Love,
Eldest of all the gods with Chaos bom ;

My smile sheds light along the courts above.
My kisses wake the eyelids of the Mom.

" Mine are the stars — there, ever as ye gaze
Ye meet the deep spell of my haunting eyes;

Mine is the Moon — and mournful, if her rays,
'Tis that she lingers where her Carian lies.

" The flowers are mine — the blushes of the rose,
The violet charming Zephyr to tlie shade ;

Mine the quick light that in the May-beam glows,
Mine every dream that leafs the lonely glade.

" Love, sons of earth — for love is earth's soft lore.
Look where ye will — earth overflows with me :

Learn from the waves that ever kiss the shore.
And the winds nestling on the heaving sea.

"All teaches love ! " — The sweet voice, like a dream,
Melted in light — yet still the airs above,

The waving sedges and the whispering stream.

And the green forest mstling — murmured " love ! ''

From *' The last days of Pompeii."

G. P. HEARDER, PLYMOUTH.

^..:.

W2g-7©K] [RJOOlLlLa

DRAWN AND ENGRAVED BY G. P. HEARDER.

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, AUGUST 1st, 1835.

No. 32.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

WESTON MILL.

Strange indeed is it that, with a population so
great as is included in our immediate vicinity, so
few, comparatively, should delight, or indulge, in
the picturesque, the varied, the enchanting scenery
for which our neighbourhood is so pre-eminently
distinguished. Surely it cannot be entirely ascribed
to apathy ; other causes must, in some, at least,
reign predominant ; the counter has its necessary
cares, the family needs a parental attendance, the
votary of fashion may claim the possession of a few
hours for the temporary gratification of a feeling
w^ar/y allied to vanity ; but, certainly, the cares above-
mentioned cannot be all-engrossing ; a temporary
relaxation, at least, is necessary ; how then can it be
better found than in seeking Nature in her chaste
loveliness — in the unsullied serenity of her peaceful
glades. Care must, for a time, hide her head, and
even the son of indifference must be roused into sober
reflexion and delight on following the steps of the
young enthusiast in rural rambles.

The neighbourhood of Plymouth can boast of
scenery of intensely varied description. The recluse
may indulge himself in the uninterrupted selfishness
of retirement ; the parent may lead forth his happy
progeny to imbibe health from its purest and most
sacred fountain ; the merchant may leave his seat of
anxiety, and here, in plenitude of delight, banish

VOL VI. — 1835. G

50 WESTON MILL.

those cares which furrow deep his careful brow ; —
youth may frolic in the dawn of thoughtfulness, and
old age find in the spirit-stirring breeze, the true, the
only genuine Hygeia. But for him in whose bosom
the tender passion has taken its seat — the pen
must falter — words must be dumb — and thoughts
alone remain in action to enumerate the countless
bursts of new-revealed beauties; each silver stream
a tale unfolds, and possesses an attraction before
unnoticed ; the perfumed flowerets now no more are
passed unheeded, and the kindred frame, that
breathes in unison and sympathy, becomes as it
were, the spirit of the scene. And it has charms
for sober manhood. But enough — the trial will
better satisfy, — at least the writer.

Among the many " Guides " to our vicinity which
have been published ; and they are not a few, nor in
any way deficient in merit ; although nothing of note
has been neglected, provided it possessed the honor
of a name, yet in none of them has the writer found
what he has most eagerly sought, a guide to the
more unfrequented walks, though not in the least
less interesting. Doubtless, then, a native, who
prides himself on their beauty, may be allowed, at
times, to call the attention of the rambling few to
some walks of tempting but almost unheeded love-
liness.

To pursue the plan originally laid down — the
" native " purposes leaving walls, houses, and paved
streets, by an outlet, bearing the appropriate name
of Belle-Vue Place, and descending the hill, (now
much less precipitous than heretofore) called Penny-
come-quick Hill, whether from the story, of our
fathers, of the benefits derived from the use of a
spring of water at its foot, and which, as nurses say,
was retailed of old, or not, the writer will not presume
to say : fact or not — the road must be followed until
it is intersected by the Devonport and Tavistock
turnpike-road, at Mile House, which is well known
as a house of resort for holiday folks. Descending

WESTON MILL. 51

another hill, the neat dwelling of Swilly is seen,
embosomed and almost obscured by a most pictu-
resque and highly colored group of trees. At this
point, a new line of road branches off, leading to the
steam ferry, at Saltash passage, and which is yet in
an unfinished state. Ascending the opposite hill,
and having attained its summit, the rover is requested
to leave the highway, for a time, and cross a style on
the left hand, communicating with a series of path
fields ; from thence the scenery is of the most en-
chanting description ; the broad expanse of the Tamer
is seen — studded with our far-renowned bulwarks,
enshrouding their sternness by a smile — ever and anon
traversed by the diminutive boat, the deep-laden
barge, and the stately brig, gliding perchance,
snake-like, over the peaceful bosom of the unfur-
rowed waters. In the dim distance the granite hills
of Cornubia uprear their storm-racked, rugged heads,
giving to the horizon a wild and wandering line, of
indescribable sublimity.

Pursuing the path, a new feature suddenly presents
itself in the landscape. The Weston Mill creek —
across the outlet of which the hand of man is ac-
tively engaged in framing a thoroughfare, in con-
nexion with the new line of road previously spoken
of; the extremity of this estuary, being lost in the
dell beneath, imparts an additional charm to the
scene. A descent of about a quarter of a mile, during
which the road must be regained, conducts the lover
of retirement to the secluded hamlet of Weston Mill.
Its aspect at first view is peculiarly interesting, nor
is it in any degree lessened by a. closer and more
scrutinizing inspection. It is entered by means of
an ivied-hung, stone arch, across the narrowed and
almost terminated portion of the creek ; it contains
about a dozen dwellings, charmingly arranged in
almost artistically-studied groups. (The engravings
are executed from sketches taken above and below
the bridge). We would here recommend any physi-
cally fatigued but mentally exhilarated visitor to

62 WESTON MILL.

pause, and would unhesitatingly recommend a site
whence a trysting place would undoubtedly prove a
source of additional gratification; the writer is a
member of a temperance society, and therefore points
out a snug little domicile, on the immediate right,
after the bridge has been crossed ; here, as the
writer has more than once proved, " a nice drop of
tea," and, thanks to our favored county, a basin of
cream, may at any time be procured, for a trifling
sum, to assist in wiling away any thing but tedious
hours.

The distance of Weston Mill from Plymouth is
about 2 miles and a half.

Tea finished, or, perhaps, instead, the junket, the
pedestrian is invited to descend to the margin of the
creek, above the stone arch before mentioned ; here,
on a primitive bridge, consisting of a single stone
thrown across it, the other bank may be gained ;
then, having walked about half way up the hill
side, a most pleasant path is discovered, oversha-
dowed by trees, running towards the east, for nearly
a quarter of a mile, this walk belongs to the Ham
Estate. On emerging from this cool and refreshing
grove, the road must be followed, Pennycross Chapel
will be seen on the left, but, as that will be the
subject of another excursion, it will, in the present
case be passed at the distance of a quarter of a
mile.

On reaching the road which leads immediately to
it, a gateway, opening into a path field, may be
entered ; from this spot a most extensive panorama
is descried, which may fairly be said to be unsur-
passed by any in the neighbourhood ; embracing
the hills of Dartmoor in the north, and the broad
expanse of the English Channel in the south, skirted
by the towns of Plymouth, Devonport, and Stone-
house : at the termina ion of this field another road
will be crossed, and a field or two more will again
place the traveller on the Devonport and Tavistock
road, at a considerable distance to the east of Mile

WRECK OF THE FURY. 53

House ; this road being likewise crossed, a descent
of about a dozen steps places the observer in other
fields, which, ultimately, (after crossing another road)
discharge the searcher after the picturesque in the
village of Mutley. This village contains a few
pleasant retreats ; the reader will shortly find himself
on Mutley Plain, which has lately been much impro-
ved by the erection of some very neat villas, and the
plantation of several young elm trees. Thence an
easy walk of a mile conducts to the town.

G.

WRECK OF THE FUHY.

The Victory being now securely moored in a good ice-harbour,
within a quarter of a mile of the place where the Fury's stores
were landed, we were anxious to examine the spot ; and, having
ordered the men a good meal, with the rest, to which they were
so well entitled, I landed, at nine, with Commander Ross, Mr.
Thom, and the surgeon. We found the coast almost lined with
coal ; and it was with no common interest that we proceeded to
the only tent which remained entire. This had been the mess
tent of the Fury's officers ; but it was too evident that the bears
had been paying frequent visits. There had been a pocket near
the door where Commander Ross had left his memorandum
book and specimens of birds; but it was torn down, without
leaving a fragment of what it contained. The sides of the tent
were also, in many places, torn out of the ground, but it was in
other respects entire.

Where the preserved meats and vegetables had been deposited,
we found every thing entire. The canisters had been piled up in
two heaps ; but though quite exposed to all the chances of the
climate, for four years, they had not suffered in the slightest
degree. There had been no water to rust them, and the security
of the joinings had prevented the bears from smelling their con-
tents. Had they known what was within, not much of this pro-
vision would have come to our share, and they would have had
more reason than we to be thankful for Mr. Donkin's patent.
On examining the contents, they were not found frozen, nor did
the taste of the several articles appear to have been in the least
degree altered. This was indeed no small satisfaction; as it was
not our luxury, but our very existence and the prospect of success,
which were implicated in this most gratifying discovery. 1?he
wine, spirits, sugar, bread, flour, and cocoa, were in equally good

54 WRECK OF THE FURY.

condition, with exception of a part of the latter which had been
lodged in provision-casks. The lime-juice and the pickles had
not suffered much ; and even the sails, which had been well
made up, were not only dry, but seemed as if they had never
been wetted. It was remarkable, however, that while the spun
yarn was bleached white, all appearance and smell of tar had
vanished from it.

We proceeded now to the beach where the Fury had been
abandoned, but not a trace of her hull was to be seen. There
were many opinions ; but all were equally at liberty to conjecture
what had become of the wreck. Having often seen, however,
what the moving masses of ice could do on this coast, it was not
difficult to guess in general what we could not explain in detail.
She had been carried bodily off, or had been ground to atoms,
and floated away to add to the drift timber of these seas. At any
rate, she was not to be found ; we had seen no a])pearance of
her during the ten miles that we had coasted within pistol-shot
of the shore to the southward of this place, and we now examined
it for two miles to the northward vnth no better success.

We therefore returned on board, and made preparations for
embarking a sufficiency of stores and provisions to complete our
equipment for two years and three months ; being what we ex-
pected to want on the one hand, and to obtain ofi the other. I
need not say that it was an occurrence not less novel than inter-
esting, to find in this abandoned region of solitude, and ice, and
rocks, a ready market where we could supply all our wants, and,
collected in one spot, all the materials for which we should have
searclied the warehouses of Wapping or Rotherhithe; all ready
to be shipped wlien we chose, and all free of cost; since it was
the certainly of this supply, and a well-grounded one it proved,
that had formed the foundation of the present expedition.

A list of our wants was accordingly made out by Mr. Thorn, who
remained on board to receive the stores, together with the leading
mate and a few hands. On shore, the rest of the crew were
ready with the boats to receive and transport whatever was to be
taken ; and the steward, together with the surgeon, were employed
in selecting wliatever appeared to be of the best quality. Yet all
that we could possibly stow away seemed scarcely to diminish
the piles of canisters, of which we embarked whatever we could,
together with such flour, cocoa, and sugar, as we wanted ; all
that we took being in excellent condition.

We continued our embarkations for two days, including ten
tons of coals ; and, after allowing the men some rest, we contrived
to get these, together with all the provisions and a part of the
stores, on board before dinner-time. >Ve had found the spare
mizen-topmast of the Fury ; and this was selected by the carpenter
for a new boom, in place of the one that we had lost. We also
got some anchors and hawsers, together with some boatsw^in*s
and carpenter's stores to make up our deficiencies. Some of the

A NURSERY REMINE9CENCE. 55

best of the sails were taken to make housings ; having found that
belonging to the Fury damaged from having been ill made up,
and from having lain in a situation which prevented the melted
snow from running off. A skreen lined with fearnought was
also found in tolerable condition; but the bears had overset the
harness cask, and devoured nearly the whole of the contents.
We found that some of the candle boxes had been entered, either
by ermines or mice ; one of them being entirely emptied, and the
others partially. Though bleached, and especially on the upper
side, as I have already remarked of the spun yarn, none of the
ropes were rotten, the cables seemed perfect; and thence we
concluded that the canvass of the tents had merely been blown
away by the wind, after the bears had loosened the cloths at the
foot, in attempting an entrance.

The chain cable and carronades were more or less covered by
the small stones on the beach, and, except being slightly rusted,
were just as they had been left. The powder magazine, detached
4rom the rest of the store, was unroofed, and the water-proof
cloth of it in tatters; but the cases had kept the gunpowder itself
perfectly dry. We selected from it what we thought we should
require, and then, in compliance with Sir Edward Parry's request
and our own sense of what was right, caused the remainder to be
destroyed, lest it should prove a source of injury to any Esqui-
maux who might hereafter chance to visit this spot. And* with
this we ended our new outfit : storing ourselves, somewhat like
Robinson Crusoe, with whatever could be of use to us in the^
wreck ; yet if thus far greedy, having in view but the execution
of our plan, and precluded by our limited means of stowage
from encumbering ourselves with superfluities.

From Captain Sir John Ross' Narrative.

A NURSERY REMINISCENCE.

' Macduff. — I cannot but remember snch things were."

Shakspeark.

I REMEMBER, I remember,

When I was a little boy.
One fine morning in September

Uncle brought me home a toy.

I remember how he patted

Both my cheeks in kindliest mood ;

"There," said he, **you little fat-head,
There 's a top because your good ! "

Grandmamma — a shrewd observer —

I remember gazed upon
My new top, and said with fervour,

" Oh ! how kind of Uncle John ! "

56 A NURSERY REMINISCENCE.

While Mamma, my form caressing, —
In her eye the tear-drop stood —

Read me this fine moral lesson,
" See what comes of being good ! ''

I remember, I remember,

On a wet and windy day,
One cold morning in December,

I stole out and went to play.

I remember Billy Hawkins
Came, and, with his pewter squirt,

Squibb*d my pantaloons and stockings
Till they were all over dirt !

To my mother for protection

I ran, quaking every limb :
She exclaimed with fond affection,

" Gracious Goodness I look at Jem ( "

Pa' cried, when he saw my garment,
— 'T was a newly purchased dress —

" Oh ! you nasty little warment,
How came you in such a mess ? "

Then he caught me by the collar,

— Cruel only to be kind —
And, to my exceeding dolour.

Gave me several slaps behind.

Grandmamma, while yet I smarted,

As she saw my evil plight.
Said — 't was rather stony-hearted —

" Little rascal ! sarve him right ! '*

I remember, I remember.

From that sad and solemn day,
Never more in dark December

Did I venture out to play !

And the moral which they taught — I
Well remember: — Thus they said,

" Little boys, when they are naughty.
Must be whipped and sent to bed ! "

Blackwood's Magazine.

57

EXTRACTS FROM A LANDSMAN'S LOG.
IV.-THE GERMAN SETTLER.

CARLLudwig Hantz, a thick-set, pale, yellow-haired
fellow, of thirty-eight or thereabout, with his nose
indicating by the bloom on it a most teutonic predi-
lection for scnaaps, was born — by his own recital, on
the banks of the Elbe, just below Dresden. He now
phes the conjoint occupations of smith and farrier in
the little township of St. John's. The bellows in
this father's smithy was naturally at hand to give
the first rudiments of his education ; but Fate,
although she had foredestined him to ply the trade
of his ancestry in this remote corner, led him to it by
a route somewhat circuitous. First of all, she be-
guiled him from the paternal shed to become a lac-
quey at Jena ; when while his youug master imbibed
the learning which evaporates from segars and all in
that famed university, Ludwig Hantz would saunter,
in the joy of his heart, among the forges of his
brother craftsmen. On their return home at night-
fall, it were often difficult to say whether the German
student or his valet were in more smoaky condition.
From Jena he went back to his native village, and
thence soon after to Erfurth. Here, in a little shed,
close by the ruins of the identical monastery where
Luther threw his inkstand at the devil — who buzzed
about his ears in the shape of a blue-bottle fly —
Carl Hantz began to invoke the Asmodeus of his
art. Just before this our young smith had married a
pretty peasant girl with whom, while laying out the
Burgche's rix dollars in the market place at Jena,
he used to higgle for a kiss. What won her hand,
however, was a love-song he procured for her from
the great book fair held annually at Leipzig in
Easter week. Ludwig thought that fortune was
ri vetted to him for life ; nay so thriving were their
affairs that his young dame, with a vanity not alto-
gether confined to her peculiar sphere of life, had
serious intensions of adding Von to their surname — -

VOL. VI. — 1835. H

58 THE GERMAN SETTLER.

Von Hantz thus — a prefixture she had not failed to
note as dignifying the names of several among their
neighbours. But alas, the mutability of this world !
The retreats of Buonaparte from Moscow, and Liep-
sig and Dresden came ; and brought ruin in their
train. The little peasant eloped from him with a
French dragoon, who was billetted on them, and the
splendour of whose cuirass she found irresistible :
she was drowned presently after in crossing the
Rhine ; and Ludwig Hantz, packing up what few
meubles the war had left, sent them, together with
the only infant his faithless partner had borne him,
to his mother, who, with her elder son, still occupied
the ancestorial smithy. In short, he enlisted in the
Danish line, and after eight years service found him-
self in garrison at Sainte Croix, in the West Indies.
Here an incident occurred which in its issue
brought me acquainted with Carl Ludwig Hantz
and his story. The old mulatto woman who kept,
she still keeps, the canteen that lies just within the
barrier as you enter the fort at the West-end of St.
Croix, had a daughter, called Miss O'Hagan : her
father was drum-major O'Hagan, belonging to an
Irish regiment of foot, garrisoned there when the
Island was in our hands. Beside some valuable
trinkets, picked up in more than one well foughten
field, and bequeathed to his child on the regiment
being ordered home ; an uncle of hers a man of
colour, left her, at his death, the good will of the
aforesaid canteen, and a great many solid pieces of
eight. Of these the old mulatto could be brought
to render no account whatever. By the Danish law
women are wards until marriage ; but the people of
colour at West-end all thought it shame that Miss
O'Hagan, now with the bloom of more than twenty
summers about her, and that in the precocious little
island of St. Croix, should be cabined, cribbed and
confined, in wish and expenses by her mother.
These reflections were of no great avail in themselves ;
only they seriously inclined her to the sole remedy

THE GERMAN SETTLER. 59

left in her case — matrimony. Now to warn her that
men of her own caste too commonly make but indif-
ferent husbands, would have been pubUshing a
truism that Miss O'Hagan knew already : against
one of the soldiers in the fort, however, there could
be at least no such sweeping objection; and among^
all who visited the canteen, none evinced greater
relish for snaaps, or appeared altogether so proper a
man to her purpose as Carl Ludwig Hantz.

Whether the man at arms early perceived indi-
cations of the melting mood in a certain quarter of
the canteen ; or if she was obliged to any one for
conveying her soft vows into the barrack yard to
him, matters not a whit. The preliminaries were
soon settled between themselves, but unluckily this
was not all, for the captain of Ludwig's company,
and the captain general in St. Croix, and the
Lutheran minister of West-end, and more yet, the
old mulatto woman at the canteen, all these were to
be won over as consenting parties to their espousals.
And why not ? although Carl Hantz professed the
same w^orldly calling as Love's high priest at Gretna,
yet was he by no means the blacksmith. After
mature deliberation, therefore, open procedure was
announced as impracticable, and their best chance of
success seemed to lie in an elopement to one of the
British islands.

The course of true love — it is an old saw — never
ran smoothly yet ; there were difficulties in this track
also. First Carl Ludwig's discharge was to be
bought, she accomplished this by pledging her
trinkets with a Creole jew for sixty pieces of eight.
That done there remained the terrors of the passage ;
Miss O'Hagan, after being sea sick in crossing to
St. Thomas' had sworn by a little image of the
virgin, once her father's, never again to tempt salt
water. But at last they did come over, in spite of
her registered vow ; were bound by the island
chaplain here as sure as church links can unite ; and
then — alas for the denouement. Their honey-

60 THE GERMAN SETTLER.

moon scarce grew on its wane, when Carl Hantz,
whether from his previous martial habits, or under
the influence of scnaaps, or from both combined,
took up so hostile a position against his confiding
spouse, that, in the first glow of her indignation, she
was tempted to hand him over for restraint to
the secular arm. It was in the jail of Roadtown,
himself the very type of what he had destined for
the faithless trustee, his mother-in-law, that I found
the German veteran, and learned these his little ad-
ventures. The wife's anger, however, subsided —
almost with the going down of the sun — smiling
through her tears she implored his release, and thus,
in the course of events, Ludwig Hantz set up his
anvil at St. John's.

With former partialities thick about him, the
blacksmith had chosen to fix his Lares near a block-
house that commands the town and harbour, and
not far from the canteen there. I found the ci-devant
Miss O'Hagan, not exactly as ladies wish to be, but
in a wooden box consisting of two rooms ; another
female, a Danish woman, wife to the sergeant-com-
mandant in the block-house, was engaged with her
in eating roasted bananas. In a shed adjoining, that
served at once the purposes of a forge and kitchen,
Ludwig Hantz was repairing a shark hook for the
black fellow whose shallop lay high and dry on the
beach beneath. A sturdy negro wench had just
ceased blowing at the forge ; whence the said shark
hook had been drawn from under a vessel in which
yams were being boiled ; in front stood a soldier busy
furbishing the lock of his brown Bess ; a stone bottle
and wine glass on a bench before him accounted for
certain aromatic airs that breathed through the
smithy. My old prison friend received me heartily,
and with many importunities, in which the soldier
took part, that I ^ would share in what remained of
their morning cups ; it was not without vehement
urging that my excuse was accepted. The sol-
dier would pledge the honor of his corps that the

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 61

draught was weak; very weak; and Carl Hantz
protested, by the image of the virgin, which had been
his wife's father's, who stole it from his sister, to
whom it had been given by her sweet-heart — that
it contained " only a leetle more Schiedam than was
waters."

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN, R. N.

Continued from page 20.

The river Vilaine runs through Vitre, and there appears to be an abundance
of fish in this town. On the 3rd of March, at daylight, we quitted our hos-
pitable host, and were marched on towards Laval, a tolerably large town on
the Mayenne, renowned for its linen manufactories. We arrived about 5 in
the evening, and were kept some time in the market-place, as a spectacle for
the inhabitants, before we were shown to our respective places for the night.
Some of the people, who could speak English, came to inform us that our
gracious sovereign had been dead several days, and that the result would be a
general peace. We spurned at their intelligence, and assured them we did
not give it the smallest credit. From Laval, we passed through Prezen paille
to Alencon, where we arrived on the evening of the 5th. We rested here 24
hours. The lieutenants, midshipmen, &c., on the 7th, in the morning, were
marched the Paris route ; the adjutants and half the ship's company towards
Rouen, on the northern route to Charlemonte, in the department of the
Ardennes. I confess this separation grieved me extremely — parting with my
messmates and friends, in a foreign country, together with the imposition, and
injustice, of being treated in an inferior degree to my brother officers, could
not fail of producing that effect of depression so natural to the human mind.
From Alencon we passed 'through Sees, Bernay, and several small villages to
Rouen, where we arrived at about 2 in the afternoon of the 12th. We were
all put into the common jail ; and I must not pass over a circumstance that
had happened in the morning prior to our arrival : trivial as it was it will give
the reader an idea of French liberality. At about 9 in the morning, we had
halted in a village on the banks of the Seine, to get some refreshment ; the
only things we could procure were bread and eggs, which were served up with
large pewter spoons ; I observed to the French officer, that a small spoon
would be much more convenient ; upon which he asked the old lady of the
house if she had any ; she replied in the affirmative, opened a large coffer,
and took out six silver tea spoons, which she placed on the table. We finished
our repast, called for the bill, and found that this parsimonious old wretch had
charged us, though poor prisoners, a penny each for the use of the tea spoons.
The officer, quite amazed, asked her, what she could mean by such a demand ;
She replied, with sang froid, " You sec those Englishmen are so particulars
they cannot eat like other people. My spoons have not been out of my chest
for a number of years ; and I am deteiinined they shall pay for the trouble
they put me to." We of course paid her, and wished her a good morning. I
observed a number of brigs, and small craft, lying up at Rouen, in a dismantled
and neglected state, and could not help expressing my astonishment to one of
the Frenchmen, who were confined with us, that those vessels should not have
been equipped and sent to sea, or have been employed in some commercial

62 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT 0*BRIKN.

venture. "And where would be the service of attempting it?" replietl the
Frenchman, " when the English would have the vessels before they had
completed one such voyage."

The prospect down the banks of the Seine was very striking and beautiful.
However, the view was shortly after of a ditferent nature, and our prospect
was changed to the very agreeable one which the inside of the common jail
presented, with the keeper and his dear companion. They accosted us in no
very pathetic terms, and assured us, that unless we instantly paid for two
nights' lodgings, we should be placed in the cells along with prisoners, whose
society was not over pleasant. We well knew that what those kind people
said was a law. However, we took the liberty of asking, why they demanded
payment for two nights ; they replied, "you are going to have a day's rest,
and the officer that escorted you assured us of the fact."

This officer, whose name (to the best of my recollection) was Galway, lived
with us in all the small towns we passed through, professed a great deal of
friendship for us, while we were paying his expenses, and repeatedly declared,
that he would prevent our being confined in the jail of Rouen : that he
himself would be responsible for as, and we shonld remain at an inn : but,
alas ! so shallow was this officer's memory, that he forgot to pay us one day's
allowance (the last day), and did not recollect to leave with the officer who
succeeded him, the certificates that he had received from our officers, specifying
that we were also officers, noticing the mistake at Brest, &c., which would
have been of material service ; nor do I suppose he recollected, that there was
a jail in this city ; for we never saw him after we had been placed under
lock and key. We of course came into terms with our host and his rib, andv
paid them two shillings each for the two nights' lodging; which pleased them
ao much, that they conducted us with a great deal of politesse to an apartment,
in which were two prisoners and three beds ; two were pointed out for us ;
our room mates we discovered were debtors : the landlady very charitably
observed that she was certain we were very faint, and wanted some refresh-
ment. She would send us a bottle of good wine and some bread for the
present, and would procure us, pauvres enfans, a comfortable dinner, in about
an hour's time ; and then she and her husband, after a thousand courtesies and
bows, withdrew, not forgetting to turn the key in the door, and to take it
with them. We all agreed that this was a considerate, charitable, good woman :
but more did we extol her, when we saw the bottle of y\\ne and bread appear
— the man who brought it was a smart, active turnkey ; he informed us,
mistress, was very busy cooking dinner for the English captains ; that he had
the pleasure of waiting very frequently on British officers in that prison— they
were very extravagant, liked to live well, &c. But this conversation did not
by any means suit his present guests : so we made signs to the fellow to be off;
he quitted us, taking the same precaution that his master had done. Our
finances were ebbing fast, and we began to think the dinner that was
preparing for us, would help them out amazingly. I have already observed,
that we had 5^. per diem allowed us ; but we were very frequently cheated
even out of this miserable pittance : and had we not each procured a little
cash at Morlaix, on our private bills, we should certainly have perished for
want. The table was now prepared with a table cloth, a rare article in a
common jail, and in a short time dinner appeared, with two bottles of wine !
It consisted of a little fresh fish, and a small joint of boiled mutton ; the
dishes were cleared in a short time, without the smallest hope of a second
course. We were now anxious to know what the generous good dame could
or would demand for this sumptuous repast; and inquired of our active waiter,
who went to his mistress to know : she very kindly replied, not to make our-
selves uneasy, it would be time enough the next day. We accordingly waited

Sl}FFERI^GS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 63

until the next day ; but were determined to have nothing more until we knew
the prices. Our fellow prisoners were particularly polite and attentive to us ;
and gave us a hint, that we were greatly deceived in our opinion of the land-
lady ; which we easily perceived the next morning, when we insisted upon
knowing what we had to pay for what she called dinner and wine. She very
coolly informed us fifteen shillings : we imagined it might have been about
seven. However, it was in vain to attempt to explain ; we paid the bill and
were obliged to be more circumspect. At about 11 o' clock some naval
officers came to inspect our people, and gave some of them pieces of money,
with an intention to seduce them ; this I saw, as it was done publicly in the
jail yard, and I happened to be looking out of the window at the time. I
desired them to be particular in what they were about. One man, a Dane,
replied, " we will take what money they choose to give us, and that shall be
all they will gain by coming here."

On the morning of the 14th of March, about 8 o' clock, a guard of cuirassiers
rode into the yard. The jailor was very expeditious in giving us notice that
they came to conduct us,— so the bills were paid, and every thing settled to
this fellow and his good dame's satisfaction. We were then marched down
into the yard, and joined by the people : the jailor observed to the officer
and cuirassiers that we were des bons garcons : he appeared to be a very
affable good kind of fellow, and informed us, that Mr. Galway, his predecessor,
left him no certificates, but he assured us, that with him, that should make no
difference. All matters being arranged, we commenced our march towards
Amiens, where we arrived on the 16th. Our officer was as good as his word.
In the small villages between Rouen and Amiens, he always took us to an inn,
and dined with us himself ; but in the latter city he could not prevent our
being put into jail. He, however, came frequently to see us, and remained
with us some time. Understanding there was an Englishman (a Mr. S. Pratt)
who kept an eating house in this town, we sent to inform him there were ,
some countrymen of his, who wished to speak with him : but it appeared he
was busy. However, he sent Mrs. Pratt, who shed tears at seeing the distressed
condition of her poor countrymen. If she had it in her power, she would
give all the seamen shoes and stockings, and a good dinner, that she would :
but at all events she would go and get us a good dinner instantly — poor dear
creatures? we must be famished ?— With a great many more tender ex-
pressions, that I cannot at this moment recollect. She took a cordial leave of
each of us, and said, she would come again late in the evening, lest she might
be noticed. But the dinner should be sent as soon as possible — to her poor
dear countrymen. A small leg of roasted mutton arrived, in about an hour
without any kind of vegetables, with a little salt in a piece of paper, two
knives and forks, and two bottles of very inferior wine. We expected to have
had an opportunity of explaining to the lady in person the excellency of her
dinner in the evening ; but she never came near her dear, dear countrymen.
She only sent her man with the bill, which exceeded the gaoler's wife's at
Rouen.

On the 17th of March, we commenced our route at about eight in the
morning, and at five we arrived at Albert, where we halted for the night.
The next morning our officer astonished us with a most elegant breakfast, of
every thing the little town could afford ; and he appeared under many obli-
gations to us. We made it a point never to allow him to pay when he brought
us to an inn, and this was (I believe) by way of return. Throughout
Brittany and Normandy, we found an abundance of cyder ; their fuel was
principally wood ; but as we advanced to the eastward, we found beer substi-
tuted for cyder, and turf and coals for wood.

64 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

From Albert we marched to Bapaume ; the road was excessively dirty and
bad. Our men were so exceedingly weak this day, the weather being very
inclement, raining incessantly, that the officer made some of his cuirassiers
take three or four of them behind them, on their horses. It was about four
in the afternoon when we arrived. The officer took us to a tavern ; we were
dripping wet. We were shown into a spacious apartment, where a large
table was laid out, and a number of genteel looking citizens sitting round a
stove, that was fixed in the centre of the room ; they did not appear to take
the smallest notice of as, nor to make room even for the officer, who was wet
to the skin ; however, he took the liberty of requesting they would allow him
to approach, which they did, with seeming reluctance. We now endeavoured
to dry ourselves, and get into the best plight we could ; having ordered, at the
same time, something for dinner, or rather supper, as it was about 7 o' clock.
We were given to understand that it was the election day for a new mayor,
in consequence of which the aldermen, &c., had ordered a dinner, which
being served up, left us in full possession of the stove ; a circumstance that
pleased us greatly. Those gentlemen did not, in point of appetite, appear to
deviate from their namesakes in a certain great metropolis, although I could
not perceive that they had any turtle soup ; champaigne appeared to be the
only wine they relished. Our supper was served us on a small table near
the stove ; those gents, as they became moistened with the generous juice of
the grape, condescended to become more familiar with the English prisoners
and their officer ; insisted upon touching glasses, and even drinking champaigne
with them ; and in the course of the night, those very people, who on our
arrival had not vouchsafed to treat us with common civility, became so
excessively pressing and free, that they absolutely proved a great annoyance.
They even lavished, in their cups, a number of encomiums on the noble nation
we belonged to — " What a great pity," said they, " it was, that Englishmen
' and Frenchmen were not unanimous ; they would then carry every thing be-
fore them, and conquer the whole world."

Our officer now informed us, that he was not allowed to conduct us any
further— that he had applied to go with us all the way, but without effect.
He appeared very much hurt at being denied, and took his leave of us for the
night, declaring that he would see us in the morning before we parted. At
daylight, on the 19th of March, a serjeant came to apprize us, that he was
come with a guard of dragoons to conduct us to Cambray. So we instantly
got up, and made every arrangement. Our old officer appeared, and recom-
mended us strongly to the sergeant : took an affectionate farewell of each,
and literally shed tears at quitting us. We regretted his loss very much — he
was tender hearted and compassionate, and reflected honor on the nation that
gave him birth. The people were so much attached to him, that he had not
the smallest trouble with them ; they did exactly as he wished.

At about half-past 8, in a most inclement morning, the wind right in onr
teeth ; hailing and raining, without intermission, our poor crew all ranked,
and miserably clad, we commenced our march towards Cambray, under an
escort of dragoons; where we arrived about four in the afternoon, in a horrible
state, all over mud and dirt. We were marched through the town, and placed
in the citadel. The captains, as they styled us, were permitted to stop at the
canteen, but our poor seamen were put into a souteraine, where we endea-
voured to procure them some fresh straw, which they rolled themselves up in,
after refreshing themselves with a sort of soup, which we also provided for
them. This is what the French call soupe grasse, made in the following
manner : — They fill a large pot, or niarmite, with water ; when it begins to
boil;, they throw a handful or two of salt into it, agreeably to the quantity of

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 65

water, chop up some cabbage, or herbs, which they also put in ; and last of all
a ball of hogs'-lard, kitchen stuff, dripping, or any other grease they may have.
They then allow this soup to boil until the herbs, &c. are well done ; then they
serve it up in soup-plates or dishes, having previously bread cut in very thin
slices in the^said plates, &c., and charge two pence, and sometimes more, for
each plate-full. I have seen our landlady at Sees, a village near Rouen, after
^she had cooked us some beef-steaks, put all the gravy into the pan, fill it up
with water ; and, after she had kept the pan boiling for some minutes, she
poured the whole contents into a large pot of water which she had boiling on
the tire, previously prepared with salt and herbs, as before observed ; this she ,
served out as soup to our seamen, at a most exhorbitant price. We remained
at Cambray until tlic 21st. when we had to march in a severe frost, with snow
and hail, right in our faces, to Landrecy, a distance of near six British leagues :
our people were put into the jail, and we were allowed the honour of stopping
at the Palais national tavern. They were very fair here in their demands.
At daylight, March 22nd, we commenced our route to Avesnes, where we
arrived at about four ; they put us all indiscriminately into the town jail.
About five, the town major came to speak with us, and obtained us permission
to go to a certain inn, which he pointed out, and where we were egregiously
imposed on. The 23rd we had another guard of dragoons, under the command
of a Serjeant, to escort us to our depot, At about three, we arrived at a poor
little village called Hirson; where, having no jail, they billeted the seamen
and US upon the inhabitants. We were quartered in a collar-maker's house.
The poor people were extremely civil, and procured us tolerably good beds :
every other necessary they provided us with, we paid for. Next morning,
the 24th of March, we took our leave of the collar-maker and family, and, in
the afternoon, at about four, arrived at a village named Maubert Fontaine ; a
place still more poor and miserable than Hirson, where we were also billeted :
the people with whom we were placed, were very great impostors, extorting
double price for every thing. The next morning, however, we parted, and
proceeded to Rocroy, where we arrived early, being a short march ; our people
were put into jail ; we made interest to be allowed an inn, and remained
here 24 hours. Our landlord was a consummate scoundrel ; he took every
occasion of imposing on, and insulting us. On the morning of our departure,
he produced us a sum total, of an enormous amount, without detailing the
particiilar articles supplied. We expostulated with him upon the enormity of
the sum, and wished to know what such a demand could be occasioned by, as
we were particularly economical, our funds being very low. He ilatly refused
any explanation, insisted upon payment, and used innumerable insulting and
provoking epithets. We were obliged to comply, and recommenced our route
to a small village called Fumy, one stage from Givet, or Charlemont, our
depot. We arrived here early, and were billeted ; the people extremely
civil.

Next morning, the 28th of March, at 8 o' clock, commenced our last day's
march. At about three (a short march), we arrived at our destination, a
distance of near seven hundred miles from Brest. We found the ship's com-
pany of H. M. frigates, la Minerve, Captain Brenton, and Shannon, Captain
Gower, with a number of men belonging to the merchants' service, here. A
Mr. Bradshaw, one of Captain B's clerks, visited us; he had permission to
live in town, being acting in the situation of commissary to Captain iirenton ;
through him we were introduced to Captain Petervin, of the gendarmerie,
who was commandant of the prisoners of war. Our names and descriptions
were taken, a Jersey man, named Garrec, was interpreter,— the commandant
ippeared at a lo?is what to do with us; we were sent on the footing of private
5ail(n-5 to him ; he appeared 1o be unwilling «o put us with the people ; hesi-

vor... VI — 1835. i

66 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

tated and appeared undecided. However, at length, he agreed that we should
go to the Stag's Head Tavern, as we appeared very much fatigued after so
long a march. We accordingly proceeded, with Mr. Bradshaw, our guide>
after returning M. le Commandant a thousand thanks for his condescension.
This we found a very decent tavern, and the first in the town, which inspired
us with an idea that this officer harboured a good opinion of the adjutants.
We ordered a tolerably good dinner. Mr. Brahshaw cut his mutton with us,
and assured us the commandant would allow us to lodge in the town. This
intelligence exhilarated our drooping spirits prodigiously; we ordered an
additional bottle of wine on the strength of it, and passed the evening as
cheerfully as circumstances would admit.

The next day, we waited with Mr. Bradshaw on the commandant ; he
received us with that politeness peculiar to his country. We explained,
through the interpreter, the cruelty of being sent to the seamen's depot, and
treated differently from our brother officers : he agreed that our complaints
were just, assured us he would immediately write to General Wirrion, at
Verdun (who was commander-in-chief over the British prisoners), and state
the case to him: at the same time he advised ns to write to onr com-
manding officer, and he would have onr letter forwarded : desired us to remain
quiet at our tavern, and he would do every thing in his power to alleviate our
distresses. We returned him a thousand thanks, took our leave, and returned
a U tete de Cerf.

Upon an overhauling of onr finances, we had the mortification to find, that
we could not remain many days at a tavern — not having a farthing allowed
us for our subsistence ; the 5jd. subsided the moment we arrived at the depot.
Mr. Bradshaw could not render us any pecuniary assistance, without Captain
Brenton's permission. Consequently our situation was becoming every mo-
ment worse and worse. As lo<lgings, we were informed, were excessively
cheap in the town, we concluded that we had better apply to the commandant
for leave to hire a couple of rooms, with cooking utensils, &c., than to continue
any longer as we were. However, we dreaded that he might order us into the
barracks with the people, if we commenced so early to demand favors. We
therefore agreed to be extremely economical, and to wait a few days longer.
Those days being expired, we made the intended application, and with
success. He approved of onr plan, and gave us written permission to walk
about the town. This he took entirely upon his own shoulders, and assured
us, that he relied upon our honor, not to go without the limits of the town;
if we abused this indulgence, he should be severely punished. We declared
our intensions were not to cause him the smallest trouble or uneasiness, which
we were particular in attending to. This same day we hired two rooms at a
Madame De Garde's, the widow of a ci-devant general. She provided as
with two beds, for us four, cooking utensils, and every thing necessary for
housekeeping, and at a very moderate price. We acquainted Mons. le Com-
mandant of our success : he congratulated us greatly, but appeared to be sorry
that we lodged in this old lady's house, as he observed she was.une jacobine^
and of the old school. We liked the old dame the better for this information,
but were extremely cautious in mentioning it. Our menage commenced the
following morning. We took it by rotation to cook for the day. This, how-
ever, was remedied in a short time, as we were allowed our captain's steward,
whose name was Allen, an infirm elderly man, to live with us, and cook, &c.,
for us. Our dishes were not very exquisite— soup and bouilli, with vegetables,
were our daily fare, and this we feared could not continue long.

1804. No answer to the letters from Verdun ; the month's rent due ; finan-
ces extremely low. We solicited Mr. Bradshaw to allow us a pound of meat
a day, as he did tlie private sailors ; he could not conform to this request,

ORPHAN ANNA. 67

without the sanction of Captain B. He wrote instantly respecting it, and
received a favorable answer by return of post ; which prored of material
service to the poor adjutants. We repeatedly wrote to be removed to the
officers' depot, at Verdun, but did not receive any answer until the latter end
of May. I am of opinion that a number of our letters never came to hand.
Lieutenant Pridham, in his answer, gave us every expectation of being shortly
removed, assured us that Captain Brenton and he were using every exertion
to have us removed, and our rank rectified. On th«^ 4th of June, the anni-
versary of his majesty's birth-day, low as our pecuniary circumstances were,
we contrived to give the commandant and paymaster of the depot a dinner.
The latter, whose name was Payne, we had received many civilities from :
the day passed very agreeably, until about sun-set, the time settled for locking
the prisoners up in their diflferent apartments ; when they gave three cheers
in commemoration of the day that gave their gracious sovereign birth, and
hauled in the colors of all nations, made by themselves, that they had kept all
day streaming out of each window, taking care to have the French tri-colored
flag under all ; which was never noticed by either commandant or guards.
The cheers of nearly a thousand men made no little noise : they resounded
hideously in our ears as we sat at table, our lodging being contiguous : the
commandant was greatly alarmed, imagined that the seamen had revolted*
and had actually got out of prison : so great was this officer's hurry, that he
made but one step from the top of the stairs to the bottom. We had a little
trouble in getting him on his legs again, and were greatly rejoiced at finding
that he had received no injury from this step — assuring him there was no
foundation for his fears. However, he would be convinced in person, therefore
went to the prison, and was highly pleased to find every thing perfectly
tranquil. Being returned, he observed that the English were des braves gens,
and he would drink another glass of wine in commemoration of King George's
birth day. The national dish, roast beef, and plum pudding, was not forgotten
upon this occasion. Monsieur liked the well-done, or outside parts of the
former, extremely ; but the latter, neither of our guests would touch for a long
time. At last, by dint of persuasion, they condescended to taste it, and so
sudden was the transition made upon them by this taste, that we had some
pains to secure ourselves a part, though it was a pretty sizeable pudding.
They exclaimed, as they gulped it down, " Sacre bleu comme il est bon."
" Ma foi, oui," repeated the other alternately. We felt highly pleased at the
sight, and laughed heartily.

At a late hour, or rather, in regard to the morning, an early one. Messieurs
took their leave, evidently in great spirits, and we retired to rest.

To be continued.

ORPHAN ANNA.

" Et nunc alludit, viridiqtie exsultat in herba."

Poor Anna sat her on the bank,

And from its border plucked a flower ;

Its head was pale, its stem was lank —
It was a daisy, and the hour

Appropriately rose, that she

Should choose it for a simile,

68 ORPHAN ANNA.

*' Now from thy mother's lap thou *rt torn ! "
The maiden said, and laughed a tear;

*^ Thou art an orphan, as forlorn
"As I, and therefore very dear;

" We are alike, and likeness gives

" Of the departed as vi^ho lives '

" Such pleasurable thoughts, that we

" Have not to sigh for whom we see.

" Ah ! I knew one, that I could name,

" Whom I was like — and we Ve the same/

•' Thy words are sweet," an old seer said,
" But, Anna, why forsake the bower ?

*' Thence thou could'st cull to wreathe thy head,
" Or stud thy bosom, any flower —

" The red, the blue, gold-tipped, and green —

" Befitting thee as floral queen."

" Each is too gay," the maiden said,

" Each has thy care ; the daisy whose ?
" Each lifts with pride its burnished head ;

" Not so the flow'ret which I choose :
"And I Ve a reason better still,

" My pretty daisy, bosom-hidden,
" Will fade, but I its place can fill :

" Why, gather, then, to be forbidden ?
'* Besides, good seer, survey around,

" How thickly studded is the scene —
" A million such as mine are found

" On either hill, or vale between ;
" And high above, the azure sky

" — When lonely night veils darker earth —
" Unfolds its daisied canopy,

" And seems to give niy flowVet birth.
" As oft as this I look upon

** I more and more my daisy prize,
" While verdant mead and mid-day sun

" Renew the picture to my eyes :
" Be these my changing choice ; thy care
"The rest — gay, beautiful, or fair."

" O ! hap]:)y Anna," sai^ the seer,

" The flow'r of choice is where thou 'rt near;

" Such form the soul's pure galaxy —

"Tir unfliding garden of the sky." J. R. B.

69

ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS ON WEST INDIA
SOCIETY, &c.~.No. IV.

Day broke through a screen of grey haze tliat enveloped the
quays eastward, as we pulled across our harbour to Jock
Strachan's carenage. This is a Scotcli sl)ipwright, whose good
fortune stranded him long ago on Anegada. The shoals there
suffer but little to escape them : vTock's venture, on which his
northern thrift was to be exercised at Port Royal, soon went ; and
he landed here with nothing on earth save his carpenter's chest,
But his carpenter's chest was just ^ the one thing most wanted
here. In short, old Strachan's industry, backed by stress of wea-
ther, and the underwriters, have made his pocket heavier than
many a laird's, at home, it seems.

There was a brig heaving down at his carenage ; and the cast-
away's gaunt figure was soon visible among his dark workmen^
moving through them with a sea-roll that twenty years on terra
firma have not steadied. Presently his iron fist met mine, with
a grasp like that of his own pincers. My bounden duty to en-
quire about the vessel, brought a long tale of her defects, in its
richest technicality : indeed the bark exhibited no small damage
in what he called her " fore foot." To dismiss Johnny Strachan
— a tear will yet drop from him, the merriest of merry souls, at
every mention of his long deceased wife ; and some will gibe at
something like affection in him, for a superannuated sloop, that
lies quiet and useless within the reef. His good dame, at least,
was a worthy soul, whose kindness to a widowed lady we know
in England, but whom chance threw once on these shores,
proved her deserving his love.

The vessel had been ashore on Buck islet, or Elanca, a place
where the translator of Ovid's Metamorphoses suffered shipwreck
some years since. It finds notice in Pinkerton's collection, thus
— *' We sailed by the Virgins, which are broken islands lying at
the eastward of St. John's; and towards evening we landed upon
one of them, called Blanca, where we killed an incredible number
of fowls. Here we stayed but for three hours, and from thence
stood into the shore north-west ; and having brought this island
south-east of us, we put towards night through an opening or
swatch, called tlie passage, lying between the \^irgins and the
east end of St. John's. Here the pinnance left us, and sailed on
the south side of St. John's." But our shallop is under weigh.

70 ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS ON

As it blew fresh, we shot along the smooth water of Drake s
channel merrily. The uneven ridge of this island, broken at
intervals by rifts ; the young cane shoots, spread over small
levels on the coast, or higher up almost edging the jungle;
the scattered sugar works that glanced out each through its
own tall guard of palmettos; the coral reefs lining a shore
dense with mangroves, and this opening, at times, with
channels into a sedgy lagoon within ; now a fisherman
silently plying along shore in his coble, then again the noisy
crew of some droguer at anchor off a plantation — all these passed
before me as in a panorama. Presently our boat dashed quicker
across the opening west of Peter's island, having to leeward the
swatch of St. Jan's. In the distance through this passage, the
eye lighted on many an islet; some without one ripple to disturb
the bright stillness about them ; some more exposed, and stand-
ing forth to breast another Euxine that

" roiled
Upon the bine Symplegades."

Then having glided under the shelter of Witch quay, startling se-
veral albatross, and other birds, engaged at their rock-fishing, a
long swell that began to set in shore across us, told the entrance
of Crawl Bay.

This deep inlet, which intersects the whole eastem quarter of
St. Jan's, is esteemed the best hurricane harbour in the Antilles.
II. M. Sloop Fly, after loosing her masts outside, weathered a
tremendous gale here some years since : she ran into one of the
creeks with which this shelter abounds, and lay close under the
mangrove bushes. On sounding a bluff point which terminates
the spit of land eastward, the bay open on your right, its aper-
ture, which is particularly closed within by the quay, lying io a
bight to the north-west, being about four miles wide. We ran
down the coast, along a line of breakers that dashed over the
reef under it, until a second headland threw as it were a mole
out behind us. Just within was a delightful beach of coral,
skirting the now smooth sea with a narrow border that peered
from under the impending green of a tropic forest. The spot
tempted us to anchor off it; but when lunded, the sun glared
down on the coral so intensely that our feet were almost scorched
in walking there, and we were glad to betake ourselves afloat
again. Several negro wenches, engaged in washing at a brook
hard by, moved about in their short geer, which they had tucked-
much above the knee, with an ease that betokened no inconveni-

WEST INDIA SOCIETY. 71

ence of tlie kind whatever. I thought on the old blind bard and
his pink of laundresses, Nausicaa : indeed as far as my school
reminisciences extend, it were only to leave out mentioning the
cart with buck baskets, and the passage had suited aptly enough.
In our progress the bay changed its marine scenery for that of
an inland lake. The breeze died away altogether, leaving our
boat motionless as the quiet spirit who seemed to preside there.
On every hand narrow creeks penetrated into the many defiles
between .a belt of hills nodding over their silent bed, where the
deep clearness reflected back every object within range. At the
mouth of one bay a sequestered plantation and sugar works.
The droguer at anchor near them slept, like our vessel, in perfect
shelter from the trade-wind, and beneath her in the water another;
like the two smacks frae Kircaldie, saw by their ane drunken
skipper. Further aloof the same trade-wind burst in frequent
flows over the startled surface, while high above us, the glorious
Santa Maria trees waved their restless boughs under its unim-
peded influence.

With some exertion the shallop was plied up one of these
inlets — remarkable for having the skeleton of a British frigate
sunk in five fathoms "deep and dark^' across its entrance. There
were some other matters of interest for us, and first the shouts of
a negro crew housing their boat. These died away just as I
caught sight of several brawny forms vanishing through the deep
wooded hollow that barred our advance. Afterwards the note
was taken up by a stream, that trickled from the cliff', near a
dismasted scliooner lying in the creek. We secured ourselves
alongside the floating wreck — for she was nothing more — of what
had been a Baltimore clipper and a slave vessel.

One of these marine undertakers visited us lately. A dark
sided brig under French colors had ancliored in our harbour, and
might have drawn little attention, but towards evening a rumour
spread of her having the plague on board. The patron who had
mistaken this place for Fredrickstadt, had landed in quest of
medical assistance. Tortola was in alarm : king's craft were none
here ; and the fort — we have forsworn the guns there, since our
only bombardier got himself hurt by the bursting of one. I
wish you could inspect the low battery dignified as St. George's
fort ! its brass six-pounders, the fleurs de lis on them hinting they
might once have graced some Monsieur's quarter deck ; the pow-
der magazine just behind, and in front a staff whence our island
flag waves out on Sundays and high days.

72 ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS ON

As in many such cases the emergency could only be met by
deliberation. It was already night-fall when I found a pale con-
clave gathered in our Assembly House, and engaged in ex-
amining a revenue officer. Xhis seemed the only person that
had visited the stranger, whose long, low hull, and taunt, raking
masts, now imperfectly visible through the moon-beams, gave no
bad idea of " the phantom ship." He spoke to having seen se-
veral cutlasses on deck, with other signs of an armed craft ; that
three of a crew, rather ill-favored than numerous, were yi
the last stage of a sea scurvy, and that they had been on
a long cruize. Fears of our weakness were fast converting
these into signs of a pirate, when some one ventured to hint
at that nameless thing here, " the black business." In short,
on further inquiry, the state of her hold, with the manacles, &c.,
found there, indicated how matters stood ; she had landed a
human freight to windward, probably at Ciuadaloupe. We
thought then of sending a medical deputation on board, and his
lionor — whoso debut in life was as surgeon of a slaver — might,
rank apart, have headed it; but the motion failed and we sepa-
rated, leaving the Joan Baut to seek, as they purposed with day-
light, her honest owners elsewhere.

To find a slave vessel equipping in the Danish ports here, is
matter of commonest occurrence ; but there was something un-
usual, almost poetic, in the derelict whose deck now constituted
our refectory.

The deserted vessel, fallen in with at sea, presents a solitude;
but that, if I may so term it, is as the waste in nature, not with-
out some remnants of life and motion even through her searest
desolation. The abandoned bark Boating under us seemed like
a wreck on the Asphaltes — desecrated and shunned of man.
Her deck indeed appeared clean ; it had been long bleached and
riven under the flare of torrid summers ; but below all was dis-
array and confusion as if her unhallowed freight had only just
disembarked. Str.tngc ! witli what nonchalence my companions,
and 1 fear the Creoles generally> speak of this infamous traffic.
A good old planter will relate his former speculations in tlie
slave-market, with all the single-heartedness of Sir John Haw-
kins, when he tells us — after encountering a storm on his nefarious
voyage, that " the Lord would not suffer his elect to perish ! '*

The village capital of St. Jan's, which skirts along a small
inlet on the north-west coast of the island, presents nothing very
remarkable. Unlike Iloadtown, that peers out under its tall

WEST INDIA SOCIETY. 73

cupola of mountains, the Johanians occupy a spot comparatively
level, and fringed about with thicket approaching almost to their
doors. One might fancy some of those over-grown Misses Gul-
liver fell in love with to have erected their baby-houses in a
tropical bower here. But the channel without this inlet presents
another of those ocean lakes so characteristic of her scenery.

The chain of northern quays commencing with Josvan Dykes,
where occurred the election described in a former letter, after a
break about midway, is resumed within closer range by those
behind St. John's. They wear an aspect of wild magnificence,
without any signs of vegetation whatever, over to the water's edge ;
while their rocky summits are broken here and there into what
might seem the cromlechs of an extinct race. One cannot sail
by these marks of natural desolation without recurring to the fate
of the Carribs — although this group when discovered was I believe,
without inhabitants. The heaps of calcined coral lying along
shore under them, are not either without their effect, they may
revive, perhaps, in classic associations, the piles that burned on
the strand before Troy. But why not turn to the living prospect ?
A remnant of the earth's surface scarce larger than — in the license
of voyagers — a whale's back, emerges off the western extremity
of St. John's : here, as we passed, the crew of a vessel loading
sugar, for Copenhagen, chequered with the usual medley of
negroes, were hauling their seine on a beach of the finest sand in
the world. This lies in the broad passage forward, by a larger
quay, which again is linked in another direction so closely to the
main land of St. Thomas', that (from the yard-arm of a square-
rigged vessel) you may drop on shore in going through the deep
boca between them. The quay, St. Andrews', has one, and only
one, dwelling on it; a neat little edifice situate on a low knoll
that abutts toward the north-east, and shaded by its living viranda
of bamboos — just such a spot as our modern Anacreon pictures for
the sweet exile of himself and love. Happiness, they say, was
born a twin ; but one, to fix his abode in places like these, should
better after all resolve on becoming an anchorite. I would not
indulge a moment in the selfish thought of drawing one from
among the beautiful daughters of my own land — and here is a
departed spirit like Rachael's, methinks, to shield my heart from
all other influence ; — I would not transplant such flower to bloom
or wither equally unheeded here. There would always be the
tiny humming bird to peep in on, and cheer, my reveries; and
the mangostuni and the cashew apples inciting one's spirit to
VOL. vi.~1835. K

74 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

flourish out, like them, in praise of nature's great Planter ; and
the sportive kids to teach gladness in the sunshine of life's bless-
ings; and the fire-flies at nightfall to light me towards Him that
is invisible. But the home of Beauty is not in these solitary
scenes.

Having cleared the boca, you have on your right the open
coast, in a line towards the south-west, as far as Fridreckstadt.
Here is seen a coral reef, there a quicksand : in one of these, on
this island, a missionary and his horse were ingulphed some years
since. Then will succeed a line of mangroves almost level with
the water, and within them the smooth lagoon that presents its
mirror to the rugged features of Nature about. J ust after opening
the eastern fort, a sunken ledge shews itself at intervals in the
wash of the sea ; it is called — from one of those vessels having
been lost on it — the Packet Rock. In shore the cliff* rises pre-
cipitously in masses of dusky sand-stone, with a detached column
standing out, in one place, like a colossal sentry before the rest.
The swell lashes, and foams against this vast obstruction, suggest-
ing the wild imagery of Goethe —

" The giant-shouted craggs, Ho, ho !
How they snort, and how they blow."

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

A REVIEW of my performance will determine whether I shall
proceed in the task which I have undertaken under the above title.
If I continue it, the present communication must be considered
as prefatory only to what may follow; but should inclination
check continuation, an endeavour shall be made to render it a
ii;Ao/e of itself, and as unexceptionable as poor skill can effiect,
for its ready introduction into polite literary company.

" Ut si quid promittere de me
Possum aliud, vere promitto. — Hor."

The pleasure of memory, of all pleasures, is perhaps the
greatest, for its exercise affords more real delight, even in the
smallest trifles, than the actual luxury of enjoyment of full a
hundred per cent, oi graver matters. When the mind is, as the
mind always should be, charitable, there is indeed a rich treat
in recollecting the early scenes of vacant mirth or pinching need
— greater indeed than can be afforded by many circumstances of
passing affluence or trimmed competency. In proof, how often

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 75

do we hear lively narration of youthful connexion and adventure
— the true coloring; of condition, so "miserably poor," that the
eye, which sparkles at the tongue's loquacity, would break friend-
ship could it again behold what it once cheerfully tolerated;
and the heart, that knew no other asylum for its healthful pulsa-
tion, break at the picture. To forget is impossible; to feign for-
getfulness is absurd ; while to despise the humble walk which
either necessity or circumstance once rendered familiar to our
feet, is cruel.

So poorli/ excellent is the best of us, and so limited is the dura-
bility of such excellence, that when we witness disdain, manifested
either towards the persons or homes of the humbly intellectual or
honestly laborious, we are strongly called upon to exercise our
pit^, and wish a thousand years might be the portion of the con-
temptuous heart — for a less period would be insufficient to soften
it into the flexibility of useful charity. Indeed, a thousand years
would be insufficient, if our contempt rest upon objects that
either nature or gratitude should call upon us to remember or
love, since they were the spring of our well-being, if not, directly,
of our greater consequence. How, then, must the muscle of ra-
tional philosophy extend, in reproving risibility, when it is known
that not to one in one hundred of these creeping things of pity
is allowed the tenth part of so long a period, and, with active
mental *' ways and means," scarcely the twentieth part ! Then^
scenes of by-gone days, come freely, if virtuously, to my recol-
lection, and form a little of the hackneyed " subject matter" which
fills the trifling blank of my leisure ; and first, let it be of an hearty
old dame, prolific in promises, but verily the cause of no other
misgiving than that of disappointment ; and, by way of distinction,
she shall figure as the

LADY OF THE LANE.

Mrs. Provolvus kept a well-frequented little shop, and the
peaceful returns of a long life, during almost so long a national
war, must have given her more trouble to count than to use.
Her establisliraent might be considered one of two, which char-
acterized golden dai/s: — the first, that of the " Old English Gen-
tleman,'* the second, that of the " Good Liver ;^* and although
some may think these comfortable terms blended, yet, a distinction
can be discovered with a diflerence, but without any enviable
odds. The latter was decidedly hers.

The old lady was ;it all times Mistress — and I have been told
that in pHilv flriv -^Ik- ^va^ Master and Mislrcss too— of her own

76 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

house, which was not sufficiently respectable to her means, though
highly eligible for her ends, and so crammed with every thing
good, that, on a person's entering it, he was at a loss which most
to admire, her stock in trade or household furniture. Whether
the premises were her own or another's I cannot now determine ;
but the whole range was in her occupancy, and once formed the
habitat of a very decent circle, which either death or distance, or
perhaps both, assisted to remove. — It was not however to her
wish nor will that their places became vacant, nor had she a
a wish to stimulate a will that they should ever he again famili-
arly filled.

Mrs. Provolvus was what is termed a blunt, straight-forward
creature, perhaps not too much so for many of her customers.
If any omitted, per lack of memory, the settlement of his or her
score, she had lungs sufficiently strong to recruit it. She was a
good-natured creature withal. There were many of her custom-
ers of the humblest class. If sickness visited them, and their
incomes denied their families the usual necessaries, their absence
was soon discovered. She would remark, " Why I have not seen
So-and-so for the week — what is become of her? — I must run
over (or up, or down, or across, as the case might be) and learn.'*
Off she would waddle — she was too ponderous to walk. "Well
then,'^ she would exclaim, " what in Pity*s name is the matter
here? bad eh ? hem ! pretty this is n't 't;" while some donation
was sure to follow. In one instance a poor soul owed her a
shilling. She was honest " to the back-bone," as we say at the
extreme west, and on Mrs. Provolvus' visit, remarked, that from
unexpected illness she was unable to pay it. " Who hath said
anything to thee about a shilling," angrily growled the old dame.
— " It would serve 'e right if I had. — Dost think, that being bad,
and not telling a body of it, is the way either to pay the shilling
or make thyself well. — " Betsey," said she, to the sick woman's
girl, " haste with me, and let us try if we can't help the doctor
to make mother better." Retracing her steps, some ready made
comfort would be given, and how necessary such is — how prefer-
able in many cases to medicine, for the restoration of the languid
frame to health and usefulness, those best can /e<'/ who are poor
— those best appreciate, whom benevolence prompts to visit the
poor.

The real cause of my revisiting the long forsaken neighbour-
hood, I do not recollect, but I entered it with almost the same
gladness as a Cossack's horse his snowy plains, after a cam-

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 77

paign in more temperate climates. I was again an apprentice and
as " brisk as a bee." The first person I met was well-known —
indeed, who could be otherwise in a limited neighbourhood,
and during a working residence of at least ten years ? After a
hearty shake, and how d' ye do, my inquiry was for Nancy — a
little girl whose neat appearance and needle excellence made her
an early and particular favourite. — " How is my little maid

Nancy," asked I. '^ Lor' Mr. ," answered she, " little

maid d' ye call her, why she is as big as I, and has a boy almost
as big as you." " Eh, ma'am," said T, " the boy at that rate
is a wonderful prodigy — elephant-growth, surely, instead of hu-
man ; do let me see him : — it appears but the other day its mothei-
was a child." " Well, now, what be'e talking about. 'T is full
ten years ago you were in the lane — for Mr. Crumplehorn,
your old friend, has left for — let me see — Nancy left school and
lived with Madam Somerank six years — and he was living here
when she left her ladyship — there now !" " Is it possible?" said
I. " And where," I continued, " is Nancy now living — how is
she." " O !" said her mother, *^ she is like the rest of you — the
lane is not good enough for your master's shop — nor for Nancy's
dwelling. She is off, and you are off — but I am here — and, I
suppose, to stay." " You are here, it is true," said I, " and as
true it is that I am here — but is Nancy here ? if she be I should
very much like to see her." " Well then," said her mother,
'' she is here — and, as we are all here, we shall presently all
meet." As I was proceeding through the passage, Nancy's mo-
ther remarked, much to my satisfaction, that her daughter was a
very good child. When her household work was attended to,
she spent the remainder of the day with her, in needle-work,
and Sundays, all the day — during her husband's absence at sea.
Such a child, thought I, is worth waiting ten years to see — and
ten times ten, without fatigue ! " Shew me up," I said ; but
there was little occasion, for Nancy, who had overheard our
conversation, was on the ground to supersede her mother as con-
ductor. " A good little child," said I, as I ascended stair by
stair — " a good big child — what follows, Nancy ?" " What you
please, sir," said she.— "A good wife," I continued, "a good

mother, a good neighbour, and " stepping into her mother's

room of three centuries old, with a honey-comb floor, new
patched, and almost as white as a pastry-cook's apron, " a good
little boy to make mother and grandmother happy, and a genera,
tion after them.'^ " Well," said Nancy, " we shall, at this rate.

78 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

make a room full of goods ^ "Ha, ha! very good, '^ 1 replied,
"as witty as ever." After a little dandling of baby (who,
though a fine child for ten months, was not quite of my stature)
and a few minutes of surprize and talk, I left the good three with
'^ hearty good wishes," and sallied forth for another gossip with
the Lady of the Lane.

My agreeable surprise on the first visit ought to have prepared
me for any change on another; but there was either not time or
not inclination for reasonable reflection. 1 was, as a poor woman
told me, "just the same as ever" — free from melancholy, "fore-
right" and buoyant as youth, and therefore more disposed to hear
a laugh than attend a lecture. Reaching Mrs. Provolvus' door,
in I walked, sans ccremonie, singing

" Mrs. Waddle was a widow,
And she had no little gain."

and should have proceeded with another stave, had I not been
stopped by a ruddy-face lass of about 17 or 18, who abruptly
asked, if 1 had not either " made a mistake, or taken leave of my
senses ?'' "Neither." said I, "Your perception may be more
acute than mine; but I will tell you. Miss i'ert, the object of
my visit, and tliat, I doubt not, will offer to you, at least, a timely
and sufficient check;" for I anticipated the masculine reproof of
Mrs. Provolvus the moment my name was mentioned. " Where,"
said I, " is Mrs. Provolvus ? " " If it be mother," said the girl,
" I will call her, but," continued she in a stifled mutter, " I am
sure mother knows nothing of you." "Your mother, hussy!"
said I, "Your mother? why Mrs. Provolvus never had a
daughter ; and if such a pert thing as you had been her lot, it
must have broken her heart, strong as it was ! " " Mother ! "
bawled out the maiden, " do come down, here *s a madman or
one most mad, which is about as bad." Looking around, 1
noticed a something different from former days, so ftmcying I had
mistaken the house, I popped outside, scanned the elevation of
the low building, scrutinized the windows, descending door-way,
and really saw the old sign, notorious for many a laugh it* occa-
sioned me by having almost as many commas as words. "AlPs
right," said I, and on quick re-entry I was met by a buxom,
middle-aged woman, who, somewhat more politely than her
daughter, asked me my business. "Just popped in"— said I,
" to see my old friend Mrs. Provolvus."—" Sir," inquired she.
^^ Madam," I retorted — chagrined, it is true, but not susceptible
of mistake; for the house was as familiar to nie as my actual

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 79

residence. " I am Mrs. Provolvus," said the woman. "You,
Ma'am," said I, laughing — " excuse me ; but you are as much
like my Mrs. Provolvus as the Guildhall flag-staff is like the
Old Church tower." " Your Mrs. Provolvus, indeed — I wish
my Mr, Provolvus was at home to chastize you."— "Eh?" roared
I. " Yes," said she, my Mr. Provolvus." " Can it then be
possible," said I, " that I have mistaken or missed the person I
sought — no ! the former is impossible — my Mrs. Provolvus, I
could not mistake — miss, I may, but I hope not." I now be-
gan to reflect upon the conversation I had with Nancy and her
mother ; and involuntarily looking my opponent in the face,
sorrowfully asked, if Mrs. Provolvus was dead. This question
brought the poor woman into the highest paroxysm of rage. —
" do I look," she vociferated, " like a dead woman — you
devil !" " Oh ! spare me," said I, ^' to reason with a mob is
preferable. You are not she T wished to behold — 't is a mistake
—good bye— and, for ever.

This second visit put me out of heart to make a third. I went
a little way over the lane, and, retracing my steps, I heard the
girl say to her mother, " surely the man means grandmother.'^
" Tush, you fool," said the mother, " when she has been dead
more than nine years." The thought of an apology after this
was absurd. I entered the lane with the curl of mirth ; it was
continued up to the moment of this adventure; but I left it as
chop-fallen as any poor criminal at the solemn hour of condem-
nation. "Grandmother is dead ! "—I repeated, as I retraced my
steps — " the cheerful, good-natured, charitable old Mrs. Provol-
vus dead ! miserum ! the Lady of the Lane is dead I and her
successors — brats and vulgarity !

What opinion these persons formed of me gave little concern,
but I could not avoid relating the rencontre to Mr, Crumplehorn,
for many years a neighbour to my Mrs. Provolvus. This man
had long left the neighbourhood — the only removal of which I
was aware. I had seen him frequently ; but, beyond family in-
quiries, our momentary chit-chat seldom if ever extended. He
could have told me half of the lane's last ten years' history, by
which the other half might have been fairly anticipated ; but as
it never moved me to inquire^ nor him to communicate, unsoli-
cited, my lot was the disagreeable experience of perhaps the
most acute of disappointments. My old friend and I seldom^
after met without a smile. The sober recital of this visiting ex-
cursion would convulse him : but should I, at the close of his

80 "triples light as air/'

merriment, touch upon the uncertainties of our frail and fleeting
nature, his cheeks would be softened down to a curve as puri-
tanical as the most remarkable of the canting age of Oliver
Cromwell. Ah !

" Thus from hour to hour we ripe and ripe ;"

and thus from hour to hour may we continue, cheerful and serious
by turns, as we accidently meet in our daily " line of march ;"
for cheerfulness and seriousness, in such cases are ours, form the
genuine exchange of rich, old-fashioned English friendship, which
finishes at one time only to be renewed another, and which con-
tinues, with undiminished sincerity, to the end.

J. R. B.

"TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR.'

What trifles will amuse and occupy the mind when it has little
or nothing to do! of all trifles the following may be considered
the most trifling, and yet vanity or presumption has culled it for
the Museum. It is a sort o( lusus, vel ludulus mnitisy vcl scri-
bendi. It occurs on the back of the title, " Dictionarium Ety-
mologicum, Philologicum, Phraseologicumque, &c. &c.," but to
avoid other terminal cums, it is as well to set it forth vulgo—^^ A
Latin Dictionary," of the date of 1664.

•' John C-ytc is my name,
Eni;land is my nation,
Holberton my dwelling place,
In Heaven my habitation."

Here is a valuable synonymous distinction between dwelling
and habitation. It shews a reading different from the common of
ray school days, and less Christian. It was with us_that is, as
far as the last line goes,

** And Christ is my salvation."

Under the above, with the date of 1705, appears " This is the
writing of John C-yte, jun." and, following it, in the erect
Elizabethan, half- text. Chancery-capital, hand

" John C-yte, his book and writin. Amen.
This is the writin of John C-yte the eldar."

Again, in the writmg of John, jun., is the following promis-
cuous, leap-frog sort of verse, valuable for two important consi-
derations ; first for the just, though sanguinary, abhorrence of
theft; and, secondly, for the reasonable inference that a velvet

REVIEW. 81

coat was no ordinary appendage or vestment in the first years of
the reign of Queen Anne.

" John C-yte his book, whosoever doth this
Book steal, he shall be sent to Exeter geal ;
And if he wear a velvet coat, up with the ladder
And down with the rope."

By way of summing up, it may be remarked that this book
came honestly into the possession of the present proprietor,
whether stolen from or sold by the first : while its preservation to
the present day is almost miraculous. It was seen, exposed as
a victim, on the counter of a rapacious book-immolating grocer,
redeemed for certain pieces of silver, and given a first place
among its master's purchased favourites, which it still continues
to hold.

J. R. B.

REVIEW.

Papers on Naval Architecture, in reply to the Papers of Mr.
Henwood, of the School of Naval Architecture, which appeared
in Nos. 33 and 34 of the " Nautical Magazine :^^ and several
other unpublished Papers, in continuation of those which have
already appeared in the " Nautical Magazine,^^ on the Axis of
'Rotation of a Ship ; and other important points : by Commander
John Pearse, R. N. Longman and Co., London; Bartlett,
Plymouth, p. p. 79.

By the commencement of Capt. Pearce's papers, it appears that
Mr. Henwood has asserted that the point, which the eminent
French author " M. Bouguer'' considers to be the place of the
metacentre or point of stability, "is not coincident with the ver-
tical and longitudinal plane which divides the ship into two equal
and similar parts, unless the angle of heeling is infinitely small :"
and, in support of this, Mr. H. refers to a certain part of the
arguments of this author, in his " Traite du Navire."

Captain Pearce has, however, shewn, not only by the very
arguments referred to, that the metacentre of Bouguer is always
in the vertical and longitudinal plane, wliich divides the ship into
two equal and similiar parts ; but, likewise, by a quotation
which he has given from another part of the same work, which
is so clear and explicit as not to be misunderstood, and which
plainly shews that Bouguer considers tlie metacentre to be in the
above mentioned plane, when the ship is inclined, as he ex-
presses it, ^He plus qu'il est possible.''' Mr. H. must therefore
VOL VI.— 1835. L

82 REVIEW.

have misunderstood the arguments which he refers to, and the
other, more explicit, and positive part, which Capt. P. has
.quoted, must have escaped Mr. H.'s notice.

The question however appears to us to be so simple, that it is
impossible a difference of opinion can exist between authors who
have attentively examined it ; and Bouguer, and Chapman, the
celebrated Swedish naval architect, have evidently but one opini-
on on the subject : for, in a quotation which Capt. P. has given.
Chapman says, "the point of stability or metacentre is that point
in the vertical longitudinal section, which divides the ship into
two equal and similar parts;" and which is in strict accordance
with what Capt. P. has quoted from Bouguer. And although
Mr. Henwood denies that the metacentre of Bouguer is coinci-
dent with the before mentioned plane, unless the angle of heeling
is infinitely small, he does not appear to imagine that the meta-
centre of Chapman is ever out of that plane ; which is rather
extraordinary, considering the simplicity of the question ; and we
think that Captain Pearse has clearly proved Mr. H. to be in
error.

At page 8, Captain P. explains a theory by which Mr. II.
has attem pted to prove, " that the axis of rotation of any body
whatever, acted on by any forces, must always pass through its
centre of gravity." But, Captain P. very properly observes, that
this theory is only applicable to bodies that are free, and which
move in free space; and proves, by a very simple illustration, the
fallacy of Mr. H.'s argument. For this gentleman, in following
such a theory, cannot have recollected that the motions of a ship
must be controlled by the action of the water, or have considered
tliat the action of the water may compel it to turn round some
other point than its centre of gravity. And Captain P., in a
preceding part of his paper, shews plainly, that a ship will turn
round the point, which the action of the water determines to be
the place of the metacentre, with more facility than round any
other: because, by turning round that point, a ship will displace
less water than by turning round any other, consequently find
less resistance, and therefore, the ship not only turns round that
point because it can do so with most facility, but, likewise,
because it is compelled to do so by the resistance of tlie water.

The arguments and illustrations which Captain P. continues to
give, all tend to shew the fallacy of Mr. IL's reasoning, and to
prove that the axis of rotation of a ship passes through the meta-
centre. And, at page 17, he gives an illustration of an experiment

REVIEW. 83

made with a floating body, which has been published in the
^^ Nautical Magazine.'* And, with respect to this experiment,
Mr. H. denies that the centre of gravity of the model was raised
by the inclination produced. The model is represented as i n-
clined to 90 degrees ; and that its centre of gravity did rise con-
siderably, and that the model turned as it inclined round the
point which experiment determined to be the place of the meta-
centre, is a fact too palpable to be confuted. But Mr. H. con-
founds the point which is the centre of gravity of the model with
that which is the centre of gravity of the system, or, in other
words, the common centre of gravity of the weight of the model
and the inclining power : and this point with respect to Captain
P.'s experiments, Mr. H. acknowledges to be the axis of rotation.
But, he endeavours to make it appear, that the common centre of
gravity of the weight of the model and the inclining power, is the
centre of gravity of the weight of the model alone; which is an
error too palpable to require any comment. And Captain P.
clearly proves, that the metacentre is the centre of gravity of the
whole system, and of which, the weight of the ship, which
constantly acts downwards through its centre of gravity, is only
a single part.

At page 21, Captain P. quotes an observation of Mr. H.^s,
namely : that, under certain conditions, " the centre of gravity of
the ship will remain immoveably at the same distance from the
surface of the water, whatever may be the magnitude of the angle
of inclination.^' And concludes his first paper with a most
simple illustration, which proves that the centre of gravity of a
ship cannot be the point through which the axis of rotation
passes, and that that point does not remain immoveably at the
same distance from the surface of the water.

At page 25, an illustration is given of a most interesting ex-
periment, which Captain P. made with a floating body; and
which most completely confirms the truth of what has been ad-
vanced by those eminent authors Bouguer and Chapman. It
appears, however, that Mr. H. denies the truth of their arguments,
and says, that those authors have both fallen into a similar error.
But, we are most decidedly of opinion, that Mr. II. has fallen
into a very great error, and that he is vainly endeavouring to
defend the erroneous parts of the theory of Naval Architecture,
and to destroy those parts which are in accordance with existing
and unerring laws, and with facts derived from actual experi-
ments.

84 REVIEW.

At page 31, Captain P. refutes, in the clearest manner, what Mr.
H. has advanced in support of his argument, in the United Service
Journal, for November, 1833, respecting the pitching and sending
motions of a ship. To bring what he has advanced, as Captain
P. says, within the limits of possibility, Mr. H. has introduced
the outlines of a solid,, of such a form as no one would ever think
of giving to a ship. Moreover, the solid is minus keel, and dead-
wood, and the addition of those absolutely necessary parts, will,
as Capt. P. shews, completely upset and derange every point
which Mr. H. has attempted to prove.

Several illustrations of experiments are given, which shew
plainly, and mechanically, the various results which different dis-
positions of the weights in a ship will produce ; and which prove
the fallacy of Mr. H.'s arguments respecting the " moments of
inertia" of the weights. And we shall conclude our observations
on this paper, with a brief notice of the discrepancies which result
from a comparison which Capt. P. has made of Mr. H.*s argu-
ments with his definition of the term " moment."

As a ship is supported by the vertical pressure of the water,
Capt. P. very properly observes, that the point which serves as a
fulcrum must, in accordance with existing laws, be in the vertical
of the mean direction of that support. And, according to Mr.
PI/s arguments respecting Capt. P/s experiments, the model and
the inclining power balance each other round a point in that ver-
tical ; and \\\e fulcrum is situated in the same vertical, according
to his own definition of the term " moment." But, notwithstand-
ing this, it seems, with respect to the metacentre, and the centre .
of gravity of displacement, that, extraordinary as it may appear,
Mr. H. has asserted, "that no support whatever can, with pro-
priety, be said to be afforded at either of those points." And,
yet, as Capt. P. observes, both those points are situated in the
very vertical, in which, according to Mr. H.'s own definition of
the term "moment," the fulcrum is situated. #

Again, Mr. II. denies that the centre of gravity of the ship can
be the point of support; and, yet, in his equation of equilibrium
of a ship in an inclined position, he, according to his own defini-
tion of the term "moment," actually takes the centre of gravity
of the ship as a fulcrum.

At page 54, an illustration of an experiment is given, which
shews that the laws of mechanics are as unerring when applied
to a body seated in the water, as when applied to the same body
suspended .out of the water. And here, as Capt. P. observes, we

REVIEW. 85

have a clear demonstration, that, in resisting and reproducing
motion, the weight of a body when seated in the water, acts in
precisely the same manner as when the body is suspended out of
the water.

It is proved again, by this experiment, that the centre of gravity
of a ship cannot be the point through which the axis of rotation
passes, because that point is not the centre of gravity of the whole
system, neither when the body is inclined in the water, nor when
it is suspended and inclined out of the water.

The axis of rotation must pass through that point which is the
centre of gravity of all the various forces which act on a ship.
But, when a ship is inclined, its centre of gravity is not in the
same vertical as the mean direction of the supporting power of
the water — that vertical in which the centre of gravity of the
various efforts of the water is situated ; - therefore, the centre of
gravity of the ship cannot be the centre of gravity of the down-
ward vertical pressure in an inclined position ; and, consequently,
it cannot be the centre of gravity of the whole system. And, as
Capt. P. shews, it is not the weight of the ship alone which de-
termines the amount of the downward vertical pressure, but the
combined efforts of the weight of the ship and the inclining force ;
and the centre of gravity of those efforts must be in the same ver-
tical as the mean direction of the supporting power of the water ;
and, therefore, as the centre of gravity of all the various forces is
in that vertical, the axis of rotation, or the point round which the
forces are ballanced, must necessarily be in the same vertical also.

At page 5Qy Capt. P. quotes an observation of Mr. H.'s, in
which it is asserted that, " if the axis of rotation pass through
the metacentre, the ship can have no force of stability ; ^nd con-
sequently, that the smallest impulse of wind, acting to incline the
ship, must inevitably overset her." But Capt. P. has proved by
the experiment last alluded to, that a ship must possess stability
as long as its centre of gravity is situated below the metacentre ;
and, that when the model is seated in the water, and when sus-
pended out of it, the stability progressively diminishes, as the
centre of gravity is made to approach the point which experiment
in the water determines to be the place of the metacentre ; and
through which point the axle passes that suspends the model
out of the water.

Again, at page 57, Capt. P. quotes another observation of Mr.
H.'s, namely: " In order that the ship may revolve freely, that
is, with perfect facility either way, round an axis passing through

86 REVIEW.

the meiacenlrc, it is absolutely necessary that the moment of the
weight above that point, be equal to the moment of the weight
below the same point. For if those moments are not equal, some
force, proportionate to their difference, will be required to act at
a distance from the axis, to make the body revolve."

This observation is so palpably at variance with that quoted
before, and both so evidently erroneous, as to require but little
comment. And as Capt. P. observes, " the experiments clearly
prove, that when the moment of the weight above the metacentre,
is equal to the moment of the weight below the metacentre, the
body does not possess the power of resisting motion : conse-
quently, any force, acting at a distance from the metacentre
will destroy the equilibrium, and make the body revolve sofreclif,
that it will instantly upset ; therefore, and in order that the body
may not revolve too freely, it is absolutely necessary that the
moment of the weight below the metacentre, be equal to the mo-
ment of the weight above the metacentre, plus the moment of
the inclining force ; and, as the inclining power becomes greater,
and increases the angle of inclination, the sine of the angle be-
comes greater also, and increases the force of stability ; and
consequently, the moment of stability, which is equal to the
difference betwee^ the moment of the weight below the metacentre
and the moment of the weight atove that point, Ls always equal
to the moment of the inclining force : and the progressive increase
of stability, prevents the body from revolving too freely ^^

In the fourth paper it is shewn by various illustrations, how
stability is produced, with respect to form generating that pro-
perty : and it is clearly explained how great stability, and a
comparatively small direct resistance may be at once obtained.
But, it is observed, that, altlKDUgh science clearly explains the
means by which those properties may be obtained, it does not
mark the limits to which they may be extended, without in-
juriously effecting other necessary qualities; and, that, to obtain
such essential knowledge, it is absolutely necessary to make ex-
periments with ships at sea.

The fifth and last paper is on the " inertia" of bodies ; and
on the "momentum" of bodies. And here again Capt. P.
clearly proves Mr. Ilenwood to have fallen into a most serious
error. That gentleman has positively asserted, that if the weights
in the fore and after bodies of a ship are equal, and the centres of
gravity of those weights equally distant from the centre of gravity
of the whole, the forces with which those weights will act in

REVIEW. 87

making the ship pitcli ami send, will be less than if the weights
in the fore and after bodies are unequal, and their centres of gra-
vity at unequal distances from the centre of gravity of the whole.

Capt. P. has however shewn by an illustration of a most
simple mechanical experiment, that, with the same distance
between the centres of gravity of the two weights in each body,
and when the two bodies are put in motion together by the same
momentary force, the vibrations of the one with equal weights, at
equal distances from the axis, are greater in extent and duration
than the vibrations of the body with unequal weights at unequal
distances from the axis. And this is shewn to proceed from the
momentum of the unequal weights being /ess than the momentum
of the equal weights. For, as Capt. P. observes, as the power
of the weights to generate motion, is /ess in the former case than
in the latter, and as the stability, or the power to resist motion, is
the mme in each, the motions of the former must necessarily be
l-ess in extent than those of the latter.

Again, the sum of the ^^ moments of inertia^ of the equal
weights, is greater than the sum of the " moments of inertia" of
the unequal weights ; and, therefore, according to Mr. H.'s own
argument, "that, *by the moment of inertia' of a body, revolving
round an axis, is always understood, the force ^vith which the
body moves,*' the body with equal weights must move with
greater force than the one with unequal weights ; and, as the
power to resist motion is the same in each, the motions of the
former must be greater in extent than those of the latter.

And, at page 77, Capt. P. says : "Mr. Henwood, in place of
taking the sum of the ^ moments of inertia' of the weights of the
fore and after bodies of the ship, to represent the ' force of inertia'
of the body ; and, in place of considering this force as proceeding
from the united efforts of those weights, and the whole force to
act in the same direction ; he actually considers, and asserts that
the tendencies of the * moments of inertia' of those weights are
always in opposition to each other. But this," as Capt. P.
observes, " is totally at variance with all known laws."

Mr. Henwood erroneously imagines likewise, that the motions
of a body must be greater in extent one way than the other, when
equilibrium is produced by unequal weights, at unequal distances
from the axis, and merely because the " moments of inertia" of
such weights are unequal. But, as Capt. P. observes, " as it is
the su7n of the ^ moments of inertia' of the various weights of
which a body is composed, which represents the ^ force of inertia^

00 THE SPECTATOR.

of the body ; and, as the ' forces of inertia' of the various weights
act unitedly, and not in opposition to each other, the ^ force of
inertia' must, necessarily, be the same each way; and therefore,
when the stability, or the resisting force is the same each way,
the motions of the body must be the same in extent each way also .
And this is the cause, that tlie vibrations of the beam with un-
equal weights, at unequal distances from the axis, are the same in
extent one way as the other ^

THE SPECTATOR, No. VIII.

The Spectator has much pleasure, this month, in calling the
attention of the readers of the " Museum,-' to an exhibition which
is perfectly novel in Plymouth, and most probably is little known
in the West of England ; he alludes to the Cosmorama, which
is to be seen daily, at the " Civet Cat," in Whimple Street.
Those who are unacquainted with the nature of such an exhi-
bition may be told that it consists of a series of views of different
places, which are remarkable either for picturesque scenery, or
are celebrated in consequence of being the site of some important
event. By the adaptation of powerful lenses; and artificial light,
an extremely pleasing illusion is presented to the observer. In
one instance, namely, the view of the interior of St. Andrew's
Church, natural as well as artificial light is made use of; and
their combined actions produce an effect perfectly similar to that
of sun-light illuminating part of the building : the perspective
illusion is also much improved by this management : this is what
is called a dioramic effect. The views at present being exhibited
are —

No. 1, — An action which took place during the Burmese War; exhibiting
all the sanguinary incidents of such a conflict.

2, — The Thames Tunnel ; a very accurate representation of this stupendous
undertaking.

4, — A view in Brecknockshire ; very picturesque and interesting.

5, — The March of the French Prisoners into Salamanca, in the year 1812; ;»
very spirited and striking scene.

6, — The Cape of Good Hope ; a very fine and faithful representation.

7,^Constantinople. This view has been considered, by naval men who
have been on the spot, to be an excellent and accurate picture.

8,— Alexandria; a good contrast to the architecture and dress of our own land.

We must observe that the proprietors of this pleasing and ra-
tional exhibition make no charge for showing it; and tlie princi-
pal, Mr. Ilickson, is extremely courteous to all visitors*.

89

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE CHRISTIAN
FATHERS.

" By their fruits ye shall know them."

The records of the ages, immediately succeeding
that of the apostles, are not the less interesting
because they are imperfect. If, on the one hand, the
church antiquarian finds this period, more than
usually clouded and uncertain in its history, ^ he
cannot, on the other, but rejoice to mark how fruitful
that period in those who became at once, under
Divine Grace, the support and ornament of the faith.
It spread in their hands through all the fluctuations
of secular affairs, and the zeal or apostacy of those
who held the reins of state, with an influence, rapid
as well as permanent. These brief notices have not,
however, been compiled as a subject of ecclesiatical
enquiry. The writers of pagan story have found
time, without breaking the thread, or injuring the
effect of their narrative, to analyze the characters
and dispositions of such as engaged on the scene.
The importance of the Christian warfare, has, in some
respect, been obnoxious to the fame of its comba-
tants. As in looking over a wide natural prospect,
we are apt, in the expanse of earth and air, to loose
sight of its individual features of beauty ; so with

Note, by the Compilers. — The Compilers of these sketches
present them as they will appear in the course of this wonc, with
a sincere diffidence to the notice of the Christian reader. Their
object in drawing them up has been simply this ; to gather, under
one view, some memoirs of the earliest professors of the Cross,
especially such as have a claim to authenticity ; and, if the editors
congratulate themselves on the site of their imprimatur, it is
because that site, abounding as it does in a zeal for Christian
doctrine, may reasonably be supposed a sphere where the Christian
antiquary cannot be altogether unprofitably employed. They
have only to add that the remarks of " religious and useful
learning," whether in the form of note or amendment will be at
all times admitted, but — and the warning may as well be given
— they have neither space nor notice for the drivellings of igno-
rance in any shape whatever.

VOL VI. — 1835. M

90 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF .

the volume of church history before him, the student
turns to the clash of polemics and the revolutions of
doctrine, forgetful that those who engaged these,
were men of like passions and feelings with our-
selves, and these not unfrequently with all the chari-
ties that can at once adorn the Christian and the
man. In this last view of the subject, we have pro-
posed to give, in the following pages, some biogra-
phical sketches of the ancient fathers of the church.

But we shall not rest satisfied in endeavouring to
render the theme interesting only, it should at the
same time become both instructive and profitable.
Among the least founded accusations brought against
the Christian sect by its early opponents, is the
sweeping charge of ignorance and wild enthu-
siasm in its champions ; the error is scarce yet
thoroughly corrected ; and many who would smile
to hear the poetic skill of Euripides, or the eloquence
of Demosthenes cavilled at, have heard but little of
their Christian rivals in Chrysostom and Nazian-
zenus. If the first spread of our faith was effected by
menu n versed in the wisdom of this world ; not so,
was it estabhshed in the ages succeeding them. Julian
the apostate confesses, that the apologists of his day
had learned to beat their opponents with their own
weapons : indeed it must be remarked, as a provi-
dence that watched over the infant church, that its
worldly arm grew stronger and more prevailing, as
the powers which were from above receded. Tatian
in Syria, Tertullian at Rome, Origen the Greek, and
Cyprian of Carthage ; in every quarter rose a cloud
of witnesses to contend against gainsayers, with all
the energy of faith, and all the acquirements of
literature.

It will be necessary to premise something of the
remains whence these ruins of primitive story have
been gathered. Some, indeed, of the Christian fa-
thers have bequeathed memoirs of themselves to
posterity, which yet survive ; but for the greater
portion we must resort to less genuine authorities.
And first on the hst of Christian annalists, in value

THE CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 91

at least, for we find him preceeded by two others in
date, is Eusebius.

The stores from which this writer drew his ma-
terials for his Ecclesiastical History, were scanty
and imperfect : the archives of the several Christian
churches, particularly that at Jerusalem, and the acts
of their martyrs, preserved with no ordinary care ;
these somewhat methodized in the writings of Heg:e-
sippus and Africanus, were all that lay open to his
research.

He was followed, with more zeal in collecting,
than judgment in the discrimination, by Simeon
Metaphrastes, a compiler, whose legends have
mainly tended to the remark, that Laertius has re-
presented philosophy and its professors with more
fidelity, than many have the lives of the saints. It is
on what these have left — imperfect as are the frag-
ments that survive — that writers of later date have
been compelled to depend, for their annals of the
three first centuries of the church. These have been
collected and compiled—with an erudition in the
authors which makes us lament more deeply the sec-
tarian spirit under which they wrote — by Wigand
and others of the Lutheran and Baronius of the
Romish communion.

The narrative left by Eusebius was resumed and
continued to A. D. 439, with singular accuracy
and fidelity, by Socrates, a scholiast of Constanti-
nople. Contemporary with him was Sozomen, an
advocate of Syriac extraction ; his work excels that
of Socrates in an agreeable style, in proportion as it
is inferior to the other in judgment.

The defects of these annalists, more particularly
as regarded the Eastern Churches, were soon after
supplied by Theodoretus of Antioch; whose five
books on Ecclesiastical affairs and the Excerpta
made by Photius from the works of Philostorgius
the Arian, together with the histories of Sulpitius,
Nicephorus and a few others complete the serie's of
what is left to us. The later writers on the same

92 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF

subject are Echard, Mosheim, Le Clerk, Cave,
Miener, &c.

We have observed that the early writers of the
Church were but too open to superstitious views;
and that their commentators have been biassed by
party spirit. The Christian fathers, great as the
natural as well as acquired talents of some among
them confessedly were, lived in times ill adapted to
mederation and philosophy. The authority of pagan-
ism threatened from without — within, heresy and
schism attempted to sap the faith as once delivered
to the saints : they had to deprecate the violence of
one, and to detect and expose the insidious artifices
of the other. In doing this they sometimes gave
way to a vehemence, sometimes to a credulity, their
cause might well have dispensed with. The same
infirmities — only changed with their altered situation
— adhered to many of their followers. It will be our
effort, in pursuing the course we have laid down for
ourselves, to guard against this defect, to take the
cause without prejudice, and the man without par-
tiality ; in a word, to confine ourselves as far as
possible to the province of faithful biography. Our
plan is to take a summary view of the state of the
Roman world in religion and politics, dividing the
subject into aeras of convenient length ; and then
to give such authentic memoirs of the Christian
fathers who then flourished, as time has spared to us.

The establishment of the Christian faith was effec-
ted by the direct agency of God : its rapid increase
assisted by the following natural causes —

I. — The zeal and industry of the first Christian
converts.

II. — Their pure and austere morals.

III. — The literary attainments of many among
them.

IV. — The constancy evinced by them under per-
secution.

But we find ourselves at the outset involved in a
difficulty of no ordinary kind : it is in the question

THE CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 93

where should an authentic series of these lives legi-
timately commence ? We have endeavoured to escape
rather than resolve this, by determining not to en-
ter on any that would induce us to confound what is
written in the sacred cause with matters of apochry-
phal, not to say fabulous, character. The holy re-
verence with which we are accustomed to turn to the
proto-martyr amd his sufferings, — the association of
all the best hopes of our calling, with the names of
Timothy and Titus, render us cautious how we ap-
proach what tradition (for there is little else) has
handed down to us respecting them. We feel com-
pelled to recede from within these holy precincts,
and our justification in so doing, shall be attempted,
in taking here, a name occurring in the sacred page,
that of Dionysius, the areopagite ; the following
comprises all that we may safely speak of him.

That the parents of Dionysius moved in the higher
spheres of Athenian life, we may gather from the
celebrated orator, Isocrates, who tells us, that noble
birth was essential to the rank of an areopagite.

The propagation of his faith became a Christian's
first duty, as it was the last charge left him by his
blessed Redeemer, and this charge had been so well
observed, that within a century, to quote the autho-
rity of Phny 's letter to Traj an, " it spread among many
of all ranks and ages, both men and women, not only
in circles, but in towns and country villages."
Of their vigilant attention to the rules of moral con-
duct we have the same unsuspected testimony. Pliny,
as proconsul of Bithynia, had summoned the Chris-
tians of that province before its tribunal : they
assured him, that, so far from being engaged in any
unlawful conspiracy, they were bound by* a solem
obligation not to commit any crime that can disturb
the peace of society, whether public or private.
How far we are borne out by facts in the propositions
which remain, will appear in the progress of these
researches.

94 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF

During the period which intervened, between the
death of Christ and the ruin of Jerusalem by Titus :
the Christian sect had continued widely, but silently
increasing. The general tranquility of this interval
is however broken by the short but cruel persecution
exercised under Nero. The occasion of it is well
known : the capital of the empire had suffered from a
conflagration of unexampled fury, and all the empe-
ror's largesses on the occasion could not avert the
suspicion, of himself having been the incendiary.
Nero attached the odium on the Christians, and per-
secuted them with the most exquisite torments ;
" some'' says Tacitus, " were nailed on crosses,
others wrapped in the skins of wild beasts and
worried by dogs, others again were publicly burnt in
the emperor's gardens," but this persecution ceased
with the occasion that gave rise to it, and the Chris-
tian faith again relapsed into security and peace,
which lasted to the time of Domitian.

The tradition that a competitor for the throne of
the world should arise out of Judea, had excited
the jealousy of this prince. The hne of David
became a natural object of suspicion, and all who
claimed affinity to it were cited before his tribunal.
Among these appeared two persons, of truly noble
extraction, no other than the grand-sons of St. Jude
the apostle, who himself was the brother of our Lord.
The meanness of their garb, and their almost servile
condition soon allayed the emperor's fears ; and they
were dismissed with compassion for their poverty
and contempt for their claims. To those of his own
family, Domitian was less lenient ; and a vague
accusation of proselytism to the new sect, backed
by the suspicions of a tyrant, was sufficient to place
Flavins Clemens his cousin-german, who had just
filled the office of consul, on the list of the first mar-
tyrs. Domitiea, his wife, who had been banishod
on the same charge, was soon after recalled un'ler
the administration of his successor Nerva.

THE CHRISTIAN FATHERS. 95

CLEMENS ROMANUS.

The account of this father's relationship to the
imperial family, although asserted with confidence,
at the same time it cannot be denied that this court
took cognizance of such as neglected the celebration
of the holy mysteries, and was a guardian generally
of the laws and religion. We have the authority of
Chrysostom, for adding that St. Paul's eloquence,
and the strength of his reasoning only, ended on this
occasion, in the conversion of Dionysius and his
wife Damaris. The falsehood invented by later
biographers, that the areopagite convert suffered
martyrdom in France, is sufficiently exposed by the
testimony of Sulpitius, who affirms that none lost
their lives for the faith in that country before the
fifth persecution in the reign of Aurelius. We learn
from writers of undoubted credit, that he became
the first Bishop of Athens, and Aristidus, in his
apology, relates that he sealed his last testimony to
the faith among the martyrs, as is most probable
under Domitian.

It is almost unnecessary to observe, that the books
of mystical divinities, known as Dionysius the Areo-
pagites are spurious : their author is uncertain, though
some of the Greek scholiasts have conceived them
to be the productions of Apollinaris the younger.

It is unfortunate for those who write on the unin-
terrupted succession of the papal chair, that its
earliest annals are involved in much obscurity. We
learn from Tertullian that St. Peter instituted Cle-
mens into the episcopal office at Rome ; yet it is far
from certain that he was the first who presided over
the Gentile Church there. The compiler of the
apostolic constitutions, assigning that office to Lin-
ces, states that he was placed in it by St. Paul. A
glance at the circumstances under which Christianity
became planted at Rome, as well as in many other
places, will, we imagine, tend towards removing this
difficulty. The Mosaic law had made an impression
on the minds of its sectaries, that was not easily

96 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, &C.

effaced in the first converts from it to Christianity.
On the contrary, the Jewish behevers long continued
a separate branch of the infant church, and sought
to unite the doctrine of Christ with the worship of
their fathers. We have grounds for supposina; the
Gentile Church at Rome, to have been an assembly
distinct from these, even in the Acts of the Apostles ;
St. Paul on his ariival there opened his mission in-
deed, with an appeal to the chief Jews, but, on be-
ing rejected by them, immediately turned elsewhere,
" and received all that came in unto him."

It was while Clemens held this office, although
the precise date cannot now be ascertained, that he
wrote his Epistle to the Corinthians — a work
breathing the purest spirit of that apostolic age.
Eusebius assures us, that it was long read in the
Churches, and held in reverence only inferior to that
of the Holy Scriptures. The church of Corinth had
sent to require the advice, and mediation of Cle-
mens, on account of an unhappy schism that had
broken out among them : this letter is one of gentle
and mild persuasion, with no assumption of extra-
ordinary power, none of that lording it over God's
heretage, that has characterized his successors in
the Roman sec. There is so close a resemblance,
both in words and matter, between this epistle and
that to the Hebrews, that Eusebius concludes the
last to have been at least translated by Clemens :
howewer this may be, the authority of the same
learned histoiian is conclusive, against all the other
writings which have been attributed to this father.

To be continvcd.

FiflNTFD BY G. P. IIEARDER, PLYMOUTH.

Co)

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, SEPTEMBER 1st, 1835.

No. 33.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

FRIARY C OURT.

, Friary Court is the right place for fun ; real good,
ranting fun. In order to see a fair specimen of one
species of high life below stairs, we visited this cele-
brated quarter of Plymouth some evenings since, and
aided and abetted in exterminating a supper : whether
the meal in question was purloined or not, is no
concern of ours, our sole apparent business was the
eating thereof.

In order to be properly endued for such a visit,
an acquaintance of ours, a quaker, lent us a very
benevolent-looking, and most ancient hat : Tom
Hynes furnished us with one of his hunting coats ;
and Sam Wakeham, Lord of the Isles, contributed a
pair of fisherman's boots, very excellent in kind and
quality, excepting that one of them, by some ill-luck,
had got rid of the sole.

In olden time Friary Court, being the site of a
Monastic Institution, was witness to most excellent
feeding, and very splendid suction therewith. So
good an example, set by the pious fathers who dwelt
hereabout, has not been lost on the questionable
tenants of their now ruinous dwelling places. A
little change has taken place in the mode and the
means, but the good-will remains the same. There
are now no more inexhaustible flagons of sack, nor
gigantic goblets of canaries, nor is there an odour of
well-roasted capons floating in the noon-day air.

VOL VI.— -1835. N

98 FRIARY COURT.

Nevertheless there is no lack of Scott's XXX., at-
tempered with magnums of " Cawsand water,'' that
never was intimidated by the roguish eye of a gauger,
nor is there a deficiency of beef steaks and onions,
and gentle pilchards stewed in cream, according to
the well approved usance of our beloved natal county
Devonshire. The uprorious melodies which charm
away the Saturday nights, in Friary Court, had no
doubt most veritable protoi^ypes in the dithyrambics
of the slee/ old monks. ,^>

Honest men and thieves, the former existing by
the sweat of their brows the latter by that of their
genius, are oddly mixed up in this epitome of St.
Giles'. Beggars by profession ; itinerant match-
sellers ; tape venders ; knife grinders ; purveyors of
full, true, and particular accounts of all bloody mur-
ders ; pick-pockets and other conveyancers ; black-
ing manufacturers ; and every other variety of rogues
and vagabonds may be found among the inmates.

Diogenes would have been completely at home in
the sleeping apartments, so would the whole batch
of our present utilitarian philosophers ; there is
nothing like parade or ostentation here, no straining
after effect, no fond dalliance with the vanities of
life. The beds are ranged on both sides of the room,
not on bedsteads, but on the floor, with perhaps an
interval of six inches between each; these beds are
constructed of straw without any casing of ticken,
to facilitate the shaking up and making thereof.
This straw has done so much duty that it could not at
first sight be distinguished from chaff, and most
assuredly, by a thorough exploring of these resting
places, Mr. Rennie or James F. Stevens would find
a glorious entomological harvest. Bed clothes there
are none, each" traveller sleeps in the habiliments
which decorate him by day. The room is bona fide
a bed-room, neither table nor chair is ever admitted,
the only extra piece of furniture being one of Corrie's
little half-pint Scotch ale bottles, which does duty as
a candle-stick.

FRIARY COURT. 99

According to the very excellent custom of the
Officers of the Royal Marines, &c. &:c., the travel-
lers mess together, at rather a lat6 hour, this meal
is generally called supper ; the mess-room may
hold four dozen when stowed as closely as the feed-
ers are at an election dinner. There is no table suffici-
ently ample to accommodate this number, but, by a
judicious juxta-position of three or four, varying
materially in height, a very picturesque board is
contrived ; the banquet room is not graced by chairs,
wooden benches being found to answer the purpose
quite as well ; and when a more numerous company
than usual is assembled, sundry extra seats are put
into request ; such as fish-maunds, tin saucepans,
and buckets, turned upside down, and adjusted
to the needful height by two or more courses of
bricks.

Tom Hynes was president at the feast to which
we invited ourselves, the Lord of the Isles officiated
as Vice, on Tom's left we noticed Billy Brown ;
Charley Warn occupied a place on liis right, and
next to him sat Nickky OTlinn, and Jack O'Dia-
monds. The supper was too abundant for us to
attempt a detail of all the viands ; near the president
we noticed a dozen of boiled hakes ; the Baron did
his best at carving a stewed bullock's head ; one
guest very modestly appropriated two roast fowls to
himself, on the score of his ho^v'mg found them some-
where on the preceding night ; a huge dish smoked
most savourily of a species of compound ragout,
made of pieces of ham, beef, bread, cheese, potatoes,
turnips, onions, cold fish, and sundry other fragments
which formed the joint stock of such wallets as had
been doing peregrination amongst the charitable in
the course of the day. An ample tin cauldron held
about a wheel-barrrow-full of potatoes, brown and
beautiful from a neighbouring oven, near Tom Hynes
were three bottles of Holman's newly invented sauce,
which it appears had been borrowed by some one of
the party, (without the inventor's kno^^rledge) from

100 FRIARY COURT.

his shop in George Street, that morning ; and, to
supply the libations at dinner, each guest was pro-
vided with a pewter pot of XXX.

The feasters had no doubt read something of the
manners and customs of foreigners, for they eat, in
the fashion of Turks and Persians, without the aid of
knives and forks, and poured the last remaining drop
of gravy out of their plates into a pursed-out lower
lip, as the orang-outang does its draught of brandy
and water at the Zoological gardens. Each operator
proved himself game to the back-bone, in the article
of tucking-out ; devouring at least twice as much
as a Caffre or a Chipawa Indian. After supper,
came the brandy, the best that ever was smuggled
from *' Guarnsy island."

And towards midnight, the revelry became fast
and furious ; Tom Hynes slipped off his chair under
one of the tables, where he remained snoring most
triumphantly ; Jack O'Diamonds and Billy Brown
turned too for a bruising match, the rest of the com-
pany pairing off as accessories in the fray, whereupon
we thought it fit to evaporate into thin air.

The reader may be somewhat surprised to know
that such good living can be done in Friary Court ;
we will therefore give some insight into the ways and
means of the worthies spoken of.

No. I. Dealers in cabbage nets and matches.
The ostensible calling of this class would seldom
afford sufficient means for supporting the respect-
ability of its members ; the cabbage nets and matches
are often blinds to cover the more lucrative occupation
of thieving.

No. 2. Bellows makers, knife grinders, and um-
brella renovators. These men are generally gipsies.
During the summer and pleasant part of the year
they care little for exercising their professed vocation,
and subsist almost wholly by country plunder, which
they commit all over the kingdom, roosting at night
in the open fields. On the approach of winter they
find " good dry lodgings" more commodious, and

FRIARY COURT. lOl

operate in the modes of business above mentioned,
but always remembering to forget the eighth com-
mandment.

No. 3. SoUcitors. These are considered as res-
pectable vagabonds by their co-mates. They quickly
discover, in whatever town they may be, such elderly
and single ladies as bear a character for sanctity.
These are visited with begging letters, and it is con-
sidered a very bad day which does not produce 14
or 15 shillings. Others call upon tradesmen of some
particular craft representing themselves as having
been once in good circumstances, in the same busi-
ness, but now reduced to poverty by sundry calami-
tous occurrences. The plausibility of their manners,
and apparently very modest address, seldom fail to
effect their object.

No. 4. Wandering Italians. These men have
generally the command of separate gangs of a dozen
or more boys, who perambulate the streets with an
organ, a monkey, a white mouse, or some other little
means of amusement. The miserable appearance of
these boys is sufficient to excite the charity of num-
bers, who little suppose that the puny exhibitors are
ill lodged and worse fed, v^hilst their masters live in
clover. The boys are expected to bring home a cer-
tain sum every week, otherwise they are harshly
treated.

No. 5. Thimble-riggers and prod-in- the-lo op
boys : the thimble-rig is perpetrated as follows, a pea
is placed under one of three thimbles, which are then
moved rapidly about upon a smooth board, and a
wager is offered to a by-stand er that he cannot point
out the thimble which covers the pea. Should any
green-horn of a farmer, or comfortable butler bet a
sovereign that he is knowing enough to point it out,
the operator, instantly, on the score of " doing it all
fair," makes the moves anew, taking especial care
to remove the pea altogether by a sleight-of-hand
manoeuvre, peculiar to the clan. Whatever odds he
may bet are of course no consequence, as he cannot

102 THE APPROACHING COMET.

fail to win. Race courses are the most productive
places for carrying on this game. The thimble rigger
always acts in concert with three or more others who
are allowed to win pretty largely in order to decoy,
more effectively, the unwaiy.

No. 6. Booksellers. The reader will please to
understand that any thing printed means a " book,"
therefore, accounts of dying speeches, bloody mur-
ders, accidents, offences, &c. ; though printed on
small pieces of paper are " books,'' the venders of
these articles travel through the country visiting,
very dihgently, all small towns, villages, and ham-
lets, for in these they are most successful. A double
crown folio sheet, containing an account of some
direful mischance to a young female, garnished with
numerous pictures and some religious verses, has a
prodigious sale in the country, as it answers a two-
fold purpose, giving warning to the thoughtless, and
forming an excellent, because showy, ornament to
the walls of a cottage. The profit arising from the
sale of these things would hardly be credited.
These few explanations will account for the flush of
circulating medium which provides the jollifications
of Friary Court.

THE APPROACHING COMET.

In the Foreign Quarterh/ Review, (just published), are noticed
three recent German works, furnishing some important particulars
respecting the Comet which is to make its appearance towards
the end of the present year. The Reviewer, has, with consider-
able pains compressed tliese particulars into as small a compass
as possible, nearly as follows. After explaining the origin of this
being called Halley's Comet, he proceeds : —

"August, 1835, the comet will advance towards us from about
230 to 130 millions of miles, and during the latter half of that
month it will rise about midnight in the north-east, and be visible
till the dawn of morning in the eastern quarter of the heavens.

" In September it will proceed with augmented velocity towards
the well-known constellation, the Great Bear. Its apparent
magnitude will increase considerably, in proportion as it approches
nearer to us ; and towards the end of tlie month, it will be but

THE APPROACHING COMET. 103

about 28 millions of miles distant from us. It will rise earlier
every evening and more northwardly; and, towards the end of the
month, it will be so near to the north pole that it will cease to set,
and of course be visible the whole night in the vicinity of the
Great Bear.

*' During the first days of October, the comet will approach
nearest to us in its present revolution ; it will then be more than
23 million miles distant from us. If the weather should be
favorable, its appearance will then be the most brilliant; it will
still be in the northern heavens, but at no great height above the
horizon, and of course it will not set. It will then recede rapidly
to the south, and towards the conclusion of tlie month, it will
be visible only in the south-west, where it will set earlier every
succeeding evening.

*' In the month of November, at the beginning of which the
comet, as we have already mentioned, approaches nearest to the
sun, it will cease to be visible, being concealed from our view by
the sun's rays.

" In the last days of December, however, about six in the morn-
ing, it will again be discernible in the eastern horizon. Its
distance from us then will be nearly 190 millions of miles.

In January, 1836, it will again approach us and be visible,
after three in the morning, in the southern sky. It will rise ear-
lier and earlier, and, in February, soon after midnight. In March
it will again be visible all night in the southern heavens; it will
then rapidly recede from us, and in April we shall lose sight of it
entirely.

" Its nearest approach to the earth, therefore, as it takes place
in October, will precede the transit through the point of the peri-
helion, which, as we have seen, will not occur till the beginning
of November — a circumstance that is to be regretted, because it
is not till after the latter that comets assume their most brilliant
appearance, and that phenomenon therefore will not be coincident
with its greatest proximity to us. Had these two circumstances
occurred together, that is to say, had the comet after acquiring
its greatest brilliancy approached us within 23 millions of miles
as it will do in October, we should probably have enjoyed a more
magnificent spectacle than will now be presented. In December,
on the other hand, when the comet, after acquiring its greatest
brilliancy, will again become visible, it will unluckily be 190
millions of miles distant from us, as we have already observed."
Dr. Fisher, (the author of the third work), next presents us
with the substance of all the recorded observations of this comet
since the year 1005, and a statement of the weather which attended
each of its appearances ; an interesting analysis, the results of
which we shall subjoin as briefly as possible. In 1005, the
appearance of this comet was attended by a great famine ; in 1080,
by an earthquake ; in 1155, by a cold winter and faiiureof crops ;
in 1230, by rains and inundations (part of Frieshuid was over-

104 THE APPROACHING COMET.

whelmed, with 100,000 inhabitants) ; in 1304, by great drought,
and intense cold in the following winter, succeeded by a pesti-
lence; in 1380, by a still more destructive contagion; in 1456,
by wet weather, inundations, and earthquakes : again, in 1531,
by great floods ; in 1607, by extreme drought, followed by a most
severe winter ; in 1682, by floods and earthquakes ; in 1759, by
some wet, and slight earthquakes."

The author concludes with some particulars respecting its next
appearance, which differ, more especially in regard to distances,
from those given in the preceding part of this article. His report
of its course and motions is as follows: —

" Towards the end of August, 1835, the comet will make its
first appearance in the eastern quarter of the heavens, in the sign
Taurus. Its light will then be very faint, partly on account of
the length of the days, and partly on account of its distance at
this lime from the earth, amounting to 190 millions of miles.

" The position of the comet in the heavens will not be much
changed till the middle of September, though its light will rapidly
increase in intensity. On the 13th of September its distance from
the earth will be 95 millions of miles; from this time its magni-
ficent tail will increase in magnitude and brilliancy ; the comet
will rise gradually earlier ; and its motion will appear to be more
and more rapid. On the 1st of October the comet will be only
27 millions of miles distant from the earth, it will then enter the
fore-foot of the Great Bear, in which it will cease to set, so that
about this time it will have attained its highest degree of brillancy
and its greatest apparent magnitude. On the 6th of October its
distance from the earth will be only about 16^ millions of miles
being the nearest point to which it approaches. From this period
it will continue to approach perceptibly nearer to the sun, set-
ting earlier in the evening, and at the same time receding from
the earth. On the 17th of November the comet will be in its
perihelion, consequently it will be no longer visible to us, either
during the rest of that month or in December. In the begin-
ning of January, 1836, it will issue from the sun's rays, again
become visible, and be 190 millions of miles distant from the
earth, as it was at the end of August. Meanwhile it will ap-
proach the earth a second time, and remain visible to us during
the month of February. On the 1st of March it will be about
120 millions of miles distant, and will be visible to us in the
morning in the constellations of Corvus and Crater. Thence it will
continue to recede more and more from the earth and the sun, at-
tain its greatest distance from the latter in 1873, and again arrive
at its perihelion in 1912."

105

PARIS.

The Letter of a Sicilian gentleman gives the following description

of Paris in the time of Louis XIV.

" It is no exaggeration/' says he, " to remark that Paris is one
vast hotel. You see every where * cafes/ ^estaminets/ taverns,
and the frequenters of taverns. The kitchens smoke at all times,
and at all times eating is going on. The luxury of Paris is some-
thing extraordinary and enormous — its wealth would enrich three
cities. On all sides you are surrounded by rich and splendid
shops, where every thing is sold that you do not want, as well as
every thing which you require. All would wish to live splen-
didly, and the poorest gentleman, jealous of his neighbour, would
live as well as he does. Ribbons, looking-glasses, are things,
without which the French could not live. Fashion is the veritable
demon of the nation ; one sex is as vain and as desirous of
pleasure as the other ; and if the women never stir without a
mirror, the men also may be seen arranging and combing their
wigs publicly in the streets. There is not a people so imperious
and audacious as these Parisians; they are proud of their very
fickleness, and say they are the only persons in the world who
can break their promises with honor. In vain you look for
modesty, wisdom, persons who have nothing to do, (a Sicilian is
speaking)) or men who have grown old. But if you do not find
modesty, wisdom, or old age, you find obsequiousness, gallantry,
and politeness. Go into a shop, and you are cajoled into buying
a thousand things you never dreamt of, before you obtain the
article you want. The manner of the higher classes is something
charming — there are masters who teach civility, and a pretty girl
the other day offered to sell me complimehts.* The women dote
upon little dogs. They command their husbands and obey
nobody. They dress with grace. We see them at all hours,
and they dote on conversation. As to love — they love, and
listen to their lovers, without much difficulty — but they never
love long,, and they never love enough. I have not seen a
jealous husband, nor a man who thinks himself unhappy and
dishonored because his wife is unfaithful.

" During the * Careme,' the people go in the morning to a
sermon, in the evening to a comedy, with equal zeal and devotion.
The Abbes are in great number, and the usual resource of ladies

• There is still, however, I belive, a 'Professeur de Maintien' at the
^•Conservatoire Royal de Musique.'

VOL VI. — 1835, O

106 PARIS.

in affliction. The young men are perpetually in the racket-court
— the old men pass their time at cards, at dice, and in talking
over the news of the day. The Tuilleries are the resort of the
idle and those who wish, without taking any trouble about it, to
be amused. It is there that you laugh, joke, make love, talk of
what is doing in the city, of what is doing in the army ; decide,
criticise, dispute, deceive. Chocolate, tea, and coffee are very
much in vogue ; but coffee is preferred to either tea or chocolate ;
it is thought a remedy for low spirits. A lady learnt the other
day that her husband had been killed in battle. * Ah, unhappy
that I am ! ' said she, * quick, bring me a cup of coffee ! '

" The inhabitants of Paris are lodged upon the sides of the
bridges, and even upon the tops and tiles of the houses . Although
it does not rain often, you cannot help walking in the mud, for
all the filth of the town is thrown out into the streets, which it is
impossible for the magistrates, however strict, to keep clean.
The ladies never go out but on mules — the gentlemen walk in
large high boots. The hackney-coaches are old, battered, and
covered with mud. The horses which draw them have no flesh
on their bones. The coachmen are brutal; they have a voice so
hoarse, and so terrible, and the smacking of their whips so horribly
increases the noise, that no sooner is the rattling machine in
movement, than you imagine all the furies at work in giving to
Paris the sounds of the infernal regions.'*

Such was Paris above century ago; let any one reflect upon the
immense changes that have taken place since that time. Let any
one reflect that we have had since then, Law, Voltaire, Rousseau
— the orgies and bankruptcy of the Regent, the reign of Louis
XV., the decapitation of Louis XVL, the wars and terrors of the
republic, the tyranny of the empire, the long struggle of the res-
toration,— let any one reflect, that since then have been bom
the doctrines of equality and liberty, which will probably change
the destinies of the world. Let any one, I say, reflect on all this,
and tell me, as he reads the passage I have cited, whether tlie
resemblance is not strong between the past and the present;
whether in looking at Paris under Louis Philippe he cannot trace
all the main features of its picture taken during the time of
Louis XIV.

Paris is certainly altered ; the ladies no longer ride on mules,
nor do the gentlemen arj-ange their head-dress in the public streets.
The shopkeepers have lost their extraordinary civility, the *' no-
blesse" have lost the exquisite polish of the ancient manners; there

PARIS. 107

are no longer masters to teach you civility, nor young ladies who
sell you compliments. The Parisians under a serious government
are not so frivilous as of yore : the vanity then confined to the
toilette and the drawing-room has taken a prouder flight, and
prances on the "Champ de Mars/' or harangues in the "Chambre
des Deputes." The passions are the same, but a new machine
works them into a different shape, and produces another manu-
facture from the same materials. We see the change that other
laws and other ideas produce, and the popular spirit which has
elevated the character of the people* has civilized the hackney
coaches, widened the streets, and saved two hundred per annum
of the lives of his majesty's subjects.f We see what new ideas
and new laws have changed, but we see also how much new
ideas and laws have left unaltered. The wish to outvie, the
desire to please, the fondness for decoration, the easy transition
from one passion or one pursuit to another, the amour propre, the
fickleness of the Parisian, are still as visible as they are under the
" Grand Monarque :'^ while, alas ! the morals of society (if I may
venture to say so) even yet remind you of the saying of Montes-
quieu, " Que le Franf ais ne parle jamais de sa femme, parcequ'il
a peur d'en parler devant les gens qui la connaissent mieux que
lui."

I have said that the Parisian is almost as fickle as he was.
During the old hierarchy of ranks and professions he could ^be
fickle ill little but his pleasures. The career which conducted
him to the grave was traced at his cradle, and if he were born a
footman, all he could hope was — to die a butler. The life of the
Parisian has changed ! you may see in it the aspect of Paris
itself. A new spirit; a spirit of commerce, of gain, of business?
has made the city and its citizens different from what they were :
the Bourse is the monument of the epoch ; even the fire-work
and the dance have been driven from their old resort, and lo I
Beaujon and Tivoli are destroyed by a building speculation!
But the same character which presided over the amusements has
entered into the affairs of this volatile and light-hearted people,
and among the causes of that distress so severely felt in 1830,
we had to remark the careless, unreflecting, and variable dispo-

* "We see," says Mercier, who wrote jnst previous to the revolution of
eighty-nine, "we see at every step we take in the mud, that the people who
go on foot have no share in the government.*'

i Two hundred was the average calculation of persons run over in the
streets of Paris: this species of amusement was much in fasiiion during the
latter days of the old regime.

108 PARIS.

sitioii which induced the capitalist now to enter into a business
with which he was wholly unacquainted, now to transport his
capital, suddenly and without reflection, from one branch of
industry to another; — impatient of delay, uncalculating of conse-
quences, and incessantly tormented by the unproductive appetite
for novelty and adventure. Du reste, Paris might still pass for
a vast hotel. There are eight hundred * cafes,' and one thousand
' restaurants/ and here you are served on silver, amidst gilding,
and painting, and glass : while the * garfon' who says, * Que
voulez'vous, Monsieur?^ presents a 'carte' with upwards of two
hundred articles, and lo ! there are still ' cafes' and * estaminets,'
taverns cind the frequenters of taverns ; and it is at night, as you
see these places brilliant with light, filled with guests, surrounded
by loungers, that you catch the character of Paris, such as it is,
s»2ch as it was a century ago, when tempted by Law with those
prints of Louisiana, in which a people, as the * beau idtaV of
happiness, were represented as indulging themselves in the sun;
rich without labour, and deriving most of their pleasures from
their senses. In this city there are one hundred and ninety-two
places of public amusement, — of amusement for the people,
without counting the innumerable * guinguettes' at the barriers,
where the populace usually hold their Sunday revels. To those
who are fond of facts the manners of Paris may be thus des-
cribed : —

There are twenty- thou sand persons every night at the theatres :
five public libraries are constantly full : and one hundred cabinets
de lecture. You will find about an equal number of celebrated
dancing-masters, and of celebrated teachers of mathematics;
and the municipality pays one-third more for its fetes than it
does for its religion.

A passion for enjoyment, a contempt for life without pleasure,
a want of religion and morality fill the gambling house, the
morgue and the *enfans trouves.' Have such been the effects of
the revolution? .... No ; the revolution has had little to do
with these misfortunes. Before the revolution there were forty
thousand prostitutes; there are now six thousand. Before the
revolutions there were fifteen licensed * maisons de jeu,' there are
now eight. " Before the revolution," observes Mercier, ** all the
money of the provinces passed to the capital, and all the money
of the capital passed to its courtezans." **Before the revolution,"
says Chamfort, *'I remember to have seen a man who quitted the
ladies at the opera, because they had no more honor than the

LINES. 109

ladies of the worW* It is not then to be lamented that political
events have changed the manners of the Parisians so much, but
that they have changed their manners so little ; this is the subject
for lamentation. There is a change, however, to which political
events have no doubt contributed, but which, during the later
years of the old government, time and the character of the French
were tending to produce. The gradual fusion of the different
classes, which ancient usages had kept apart, would, without the
shock that blended and confused all ranks violently together, have
naturally given to one set of persons, many of the ideas and habits
of another. You see no longer in Paris a nobility that lives upon
credit, and boasts of its ruin with ostentation. The families that
still inhabit the great hotels of the Faubourg St. Germain are
more orderly, more economical, more moral in their habits than
heretofore.

Bulwer'a "France."

LINES.

Through the glen when Morning's blushes

Softly gleam o*er tower and tree,
Light the laughing streamlet gushes

Through the green fields leaping free.
Let us stray. Love; all the splendour

Of Earth's beauty grows more bright.
And its softness seems more tender

Whilst I view it in thy sight.

I could sit and gaze for ever.

With thy gentle hand in mine.
On the wood, the lawn, the river.

Where the summer rays recline.
One sole feeling lives around us,

One sole spirit breathes above.
Through all of beauty that surrounds us

Expands the glowing soul of Love.

110
SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN R. N.

• Continued from pa^e 67.

Since our arrival at this depot, several of the stoutest, and apparently most
healthy of our men, died of a fever, supposed to be caught in some of the
jails on the road ; our poor servant Allen was seized with it, and expired in
a few days.

In the latter part of June, our commandant appeared much altered, and
became excessively distant ; we were at a loss to know the cause of so sudden
a change. Mr. Bradshaw informed us, that he once observed to him, ** that
the English officers (as he was kind enough to style us) were excessively
proud. I never meet them, but I take my hat off, whilst they only lift theirs."
Admitting this to have been the case, we had a better opinion of him, than to
suppose that so trivial a matter could cause so great an alteration in his
behaviour. He one night sent a guard of gend'armes to take us from our
lodging to the guard-house, for being in the streets after 9 o' clock ; when it
is scarcely dark at this season of the year ; although we had no regular time
prescribed by him to be in-doors ; there we remained, on a cold pavement,
all night, at a loss to know what we had been guilty of. Our guards assured
us, it was merely the caprice of the commandant. At noon Mr. Bradshaw
visited us, without giving us any hopes of release. The commandant informed
him, that we were confined for not answering a sentinel on his post, who had
hailed ns : this we denied, as we had not passed one that night. Mons. Bras-
scur, the second in command, then came to see us, and expressed great sorrow
at seeing us confined without cause ; he waited on the commandant, became
responsible for our conduct, and had us moved to our lodgings, where we were
ordered to continue without stirring out, until further orders. $

Our poor landlady received us with the greatest joy imaginable, bathed
us with her tears, and had some refreshments ready, although she had sent us
a very good breakfast to the guard-house by her own son. In three days we
were once more liberated, but were always confined whenever a religious
procession, or any amusement, took place, which, at this particular time, was
very frequent. Our chief amusement was a game at billiards, and a walk
round the ramparts, or rather ruins. We frequently met with military officers
at the billiard table, who always behaved with the strictest politeness, and
made us an offer of the table the moment we entered the room ; which, of
course, was declined until they had finished. I purchased a grammar and
dictionary, with an idea of learning French, and also begged the lady at the
library to choose me an easy French book, that I might begin translating
which she had the kindness to do. We were constantly, from the command-
ant's conduct of late, under apprehensions of being close confined with the
people ; he appeared more inveterate against me, than against any of the others.
However, about the 10th, or 12th of July, we received a letter from our
commanding officer at Verdun, stating, that General Wirrion had at last sent
an order for Mr. Mahony and me, to be conducted to Verdun depot ; but not
a word about either the boatswain or gunner ; those poor fellows, we had the
inexpressible sorrow of seeing pass through Verdun, in less than three months
after we quitted them, together with two of our seamen, that I observed had
escaped from Givet prison ; they were arrested close to the water side, near
Dunkirk, and were on their way to Biiche to be punished. Garree, the Jersey
man, who acted as interpreter, through some pique, informed the commandant
that the boatswain and gunner had an idea of making their escape ; he gave
him credit for this information, and dispatched these poor fellows to a depot
of punishment, where they remained for two years and a half, which caused
the death of the boatswain. This very scoundrel, the informer, a few days

SVLtFERlNGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. Ill

after their departure, made his escape and arrived safe at Jersey. The com.
mandant received the order by the same post. Mr. Bradshaw received also
directions from Captain Brenton, to supply us with cash to enable us to
proceed ; all this intelligence arriving at the same time, nearly overwhelmed
us wish joy : but the other poor fellows, who were to remain, were discon-
solate, fearing much the commandant's severity when we quitted them.

1804. — The 16th of July was the day appointed for our departure. Mr.
Mahony had a bad foot, in consequence of which a cart was ordered, which
carried us both. Every thing was now arranged ; and we had previously been
permitted to see our ship's company, a pleasure we had been deprived of for
some weeks. We took an affectionate farewell of our shipmates and landlady
and began our route under the escort of two gend'armes.

July 16, 1804.— We arrived early at Fiume, a village of which I have
already made mention. We were allowed to do as we pleased on our arrival,
and to go to any inn we liked. Our guard informed us that the commandant
of Givet had inserted in our feuille de route, that we should be considered as
officers of rank on parole, and treated accordingly. This was a circumstance
that greatly surpassed our expectations. In the course of the day, we were
joined by some British sailors, who also had a cart (some of them being sick).
The next morning we were all marched together towards Rocroy ; only one
cart was allowed, and my brother officer was obliged to mount with the other
sick. We took care not to go to the same scoundrel's house at Rocroy, where
we had been recently so ill used : found another more preferable. From
Rocroy we were marched to Mezieres ; put up at a tavern, being now officers
of rank ; which our landlady appeared to have been informed of. This old
lady was, if possible, more extortionate towards us than any we had yet met
with. We found that, unless we previously made an agreement, particularly
specifying what we wished, and regulating the price of every article, we should
be liable to the greatest imposition : and this indeed is the case throughout
France. From Mezieres we passed through Sedan, Stenay, a small village*
Sivry, and on the 23rd arrived at Verdun, where we so long had desired to be,
and where we were received by Captain Brenton, our officers and countrymen
in the most handsome manner. We were billeted at the Three Moors for two
nights, until we could procure lodgings. Two or three days after our arrival
Mr. Pridhara introduced us to General Wirrion, who gave us permission to
walk in the suburbs. In the course of a few days I procured lodgings, with
a Mr. Ashworth, midshipman, who was a messmate of mine in the late ship.
I met with a number of old acquaintances here, and passed the time among
them, considering we were in a state of captivity, tolerably well.

As soon as I found myself a little settled, my friend and I employed a
French master, and studied with the greatest attention, never quitting the
town except on race days, or days of other amusements. We employed also
a fencing, and an Italian master, as soon as we were tolerably perfect in the
French language. Our studies amused us greatly ; made the time pass lightly
over ; and did away with that ennui which is the inseparable attendant of
sloth and idleness.

In a few months after my arrival, a Mr. M'Grath (a near relation of mine)
was escorted to this depot, with a Mr. Wills, Mr. Mate, and a boat's crew of
the frigate Acasta. Mr. M'Grath was surgeon's assistant. They had been
made prisoners on the island of Beniget, near Brest. Mr. Wills had been
ordered early in the morning to land on that island, and load his boat with
sand for scouring the decks ; and Mr. M'Grath had received permission to
accompany him, merely for the purpose of taking a walk, and amusing himself
while the men were loading the boat : but they had no sooner landed, than
they were surrounded by a number of French troops, who were Iving in

112 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

aunbush for tbem, and bad been landed the night before, for the express
purpose of surprising some of the English boats, that were daily in the habit
of coming on shore. Our poor fellows were immediately secured, embarked,
and conducted to the continent. The frigate instantly, on discovering they
were captured, dispatched boats in pursuit of them, but to no purpose. From
the cruel treatment which they received on their march ; being put into stables
bams, common jails, &c., allowed nothing but seamen's fare ; with not a
farthing of money in their pockets ; they were so exhausted on their arrival
at Verdun, that both the officers were seized with a violent fever : Mr Wills
recovered in a short time ; but the other lost the use of his limbs, and was
confined to his bed, with little or no intermission, until July, 1808; when he
burst a blood vessel, and expired without a groan. He lived with me the
major part of the time.

But to return to the thread of my own narrative. We continued, as before
observed, amusing ourselves by study, in the winter, skaiting, &c., until
August, 1807, when I began to consider my situation minutely, and to delibe-
rate upon my unfortunate captivity ; and those deliberations had the effect
of making me very uncomfortable and dissatisfied : I could not afterwards
reconcile myself to study, or any amusement. I reasoned with myself, that I
was loosing the prime of my youth in captivity ; saw no prospect of peace, or
exchange of prisoners, no hope of being promoted in my present state, nor of
recommending myself through any personal exertions to the notice of my
country, deprived, while in France, of being able to afford my country, my
friends, or myself, the least assistance.

In this horrible state, almost of stupefaction, I remained for some days;
when my friend Ashworth observed to me, that he and a Mr. Tuthill, a par-
ticular friend of mine, and a midsdipman also, had been canvassing the cruelty
and hardships they laboured under; and their intention (if I would join them)
of transgressing, and getting deprived of their permissions to go out of town
(what the French deemed parole) and making their escape to their native
country. This was to me the most flattering intelligence— it was what I had
been revolving in my own brain for some days. We accordingly met at an
appointed place, to deliberate upon the best method of putting in execution
the business we were about to commence, and agreed it was necessary to
procure knapsacks, provisions, bladders to contain water, &c., prior to our
getting close confined : as wc should be under the necessity of travelling by
night, and concealing ourselves in the woods during the day-time.

The necessary materials having been provided, viz. files, gimlets, saws, with
other articles that are needless to mention ; that in case of being taken, we
might be able to break our fetters, and to escape from slavery, and the pun-
ishment that we were well aware would await us ; (they make midshipmen
attend two appels or musters per day : not being at the exact lime was
formerly 3 livres (2s. 6d.) fine ; but at present the offenders are sent to St.
Louis, or Bitche, depots of p;mishment ;) we commenced by missing one
appel, but to our great astonishment this breach of conduct was overlooked
and forgiven. We next remained out of town very late; this was also forgiven,
though we got into the guardhouse, &c. ; in short it was several days before
we succeeded in getting deprived of our passports or permissions; we were
now coufident, from the lenity shewn u», that they suspected our intentions.
However, August 28th, 1807, having found, from the opinion of several officer*
whom we consulted, that no tie of honor could, under our present circum-
stances, retain us; being literally in close confinement, and that perhaps we
might never have so good an opportunity again, wc determined to take French
leave that night, having an excellent rope provided to scale the ramparts*
We accordingly separated, having fixed a rendezvous at Ho' clock, which

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 113

was the appointed hour. I returned to my lodgings: but must observe, lliat
on my way, I happened to meet with a friend, a Lieutenant Essel, of the
»avy ; who with the greatest frankness communicated to me his intention to
quit France, and that he should like very much if I would accompany him ;
I declined giving him a direct answer at that moment; and could not help
suspecting, that he was aware of what we had in contemplation : however,
his not mentioning the other two, gave me hopes. I quit'ted him, waited on
my comrades, and informed them of the conversation that had passed. They
agreed, provided he was not in debt, and quitted the town in an honorable
manner, that they had no objection to his being of our party. He gave us
every assurance of what we asked, as also that he had been deprived of his
passports, that he had settled all his affairs, and that he had £50. sterling to
proceed with.

At 11, we came to the appointed spot; but found, though late, that the sen-
tinels were on the alert, and a number of people was passing and repassing;
which made us put it off until the following night. We took different routes,
and returned to our respective places for the night ; inspired with the greatest
desire of revisiting our native country, and elated with the hope of regaining
that which predominates so much in a Briton's breast — liberty. I confess I
felt the greatest regret at quitting my poor unhealthy relative, Mr. M'Grath ;
nor could I make him acquainted with the step I was about to take, without
experiencing an emotion impossible to be described.
The sea coast was the place fixed upon to make for, and we agreed, that

about Estaples was the most likely part to procure a boat The anxiety

and uneasiness which we felt the next day, were beyond description. Some
of onr countrymen, who called to see us en passant, threw out such insinuations
and made such remarks upon our conduct of late, that we were under the most
serious apprehensions of being shackled, and on the road to Bitche, before the
much desired hour, 11 at night : being well aware, that there were several
Englishmen employed, and paid regularly, for conveying the most trivial
occurrence that might take place among the prisoners, to the French general.
I have frequently known prisoners of war to be taken out of their beds, in
the night, fettered, and conducted under an escort of gend'armes to the depots
of punishment, without ever being informed of the crime or fault they had
been accused of, through malice, by some of those rascals giving false infor-
mation, to be revenged for any private animosity they might have against the
person so treated. These spies were so numerous (I repeat with regret), that
it was morally impossible to know them all ; consequently, the most watchful
and cautious amongst us was liable to be entrapped. We fortunately, how-
ever, escaped their' snares.

The desired and long wished for moment arrived. We met agreeably to
appointment; every thing was favorable and quiet ; and in a few seconds,
with the assistance of our rope and a * * * * we were down the ramparts,
about 72 feet high, with very little damage, except losing a little of the skin
of our hands. Our course was N. W., which we carefully followed, each
having his knapsack, &c. regularly placed.

(August 30. 1807.) About three o'clock, the day began to dawn, and having
ran during most of the time since we quitted our miserable abode, we conjec-
tured we were about five British leagues from it. We determined not to
approach any houses, nor to expose ourselves in the day-time, except in the
greatest necessity. We were fortunately close to the very wood which we had
pricked off on ©ur map for the first halt; it was in the vicijjiJy of Varcnne?.
We instantly entered it, and after searching for a good thick part, at last sue
ceeded, though it was contiguous to a path-way. However, wo placed ourselves
so woU, that unless information hnd been given nf n?. and people had come on

voT, vr.— l^o'i. r

114 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

purpose to search, we could not be discovered. We lay tolerably comfortable
until about nine ; when we found that this path-way was very much frequented ;
the voices of people passing to and fro ; of children, being Sunday, nutting,
&c. was a great annoyance ; however, we had no nut trees immediately close
to us, and at noon they all returned to their homes, being their dinner hour.
We also took a little refreshment, destroyed our hats, and replaced them with
caps a la Francaise, which we had procured. At seven, it being tolerably
dusk, we placed our knapsacks, arranged every thing, and commenced oar
march N. W., making a direct course through the country, ploughed fields,
mountains, marshes, nothing intercepted, or retarded our progress : the hap-
piness, we even at this moment felt, was inexpressible ; we considered
ourselves literally as regenerated creatures.

(August 31. 1807.) A little before day-light it began to rain heavily. We
discovered a convenient wood, although contiguous to a farm house ; where,
after deliberately considering, we resolved to secrete ourselves, lest we might
not have another near enough. We accordingly provided ourselves, after a
long search, the wood being excessively thin, with a tolerable sort of hiding
place. We could distinctly hear the people in the farm-yard conversing, which
caused us a little alarm ; our situation all this day was very deplorable. On
entering our hiding-place we were wet to the skin, and it continued raining
without ceasing until late in the evening ; the wet we received from the
branches and leaves was much worse than if we had been in an open field
without a tree. Our chief employment was squeezing the water out of our
clothes and stockings. Our stock of provisions, which principally consisted of
light biscuit and sausages, was very much damaged. At dusk, about the usual
hour, seven, after taking a little refreshment, we bundled on our knapsacks
and accoutrements, and proceeded the old course, N. W. We walked a good
distance this night, the weather being more favourable.

(September 1. 1807.) A little before daylight we entered a most excellent
thick wood, admirably well calculated for night walkers ; took a little refresh-
ment, and endeavoured to sleep a little after the fatigues of the night, and
after congratulating one another at being thus far successful. At about ten,
we were alarmed by the voices of people apparently close to us ; we found
that they were passing on an adjacent path- way, which we had not before
discovered ; but we were too well placed to be under any dread of being per-
ceived : the number of squirrels, rats, mice, &c. about us this day was very
great. Having made our customary preparations, at seven we got out of our
lurking hole, and proceeded to the border of the wood, on that side towards
which we had to direct our course. On our arrival we discovered some
labourers still at work, in a field close to the outside of the wood, which
occasioned us to halt until they disappeared. We then proceeded with some
anxiety, as we saw a village exactly in our track, and which we could not
avoid without making a very great circuit. In about two hours after we
had quitted the wood, we found our course suddenly impeded by a ditch or
moat, which upon sounding with our clubs, that were, by the bye, of a tolerably
good length, we found very deep ; in fact it surpassed any conception we could
form of it. We surveyed it, marching first in one direction, then in another
without coming to any resolution : however, it was evident, that we must
cross it. I at length discovered one part which appeared narrower than the
rest, which made me resolve to try and leap over it. I accordingly gave
myself room for a run to that narrow part, and landed on the opposite side
some feet from the edge of the bank; it was not near so broad as it appeared,
and knowing that it was excessively deep, made me the more anxious to secure
. a good landing, lest I might fall back into it ; the consequence was, the
opposite bank being extremely sandy and hard, and the knapsack on my

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 115

shoulders lifting and coming with a sudden jerk, the moment I touched on it
I was thrown on my side, and my right knee twisted in the joint to that
degree, that I absolutely thought it was snapped in two ; in this condition I
remained extended in the most excruciating pain, recommending to my com-
panions to be more cautious, until Lieutenant Essel and the other two joined
me. They examined, and found, to my inexpressible joy that the bone was
not broken: but this unfortunate business, at the moment, deprived me of
every hope of being able to prosecute ray intended journey. My mind was
distressed — my ideas distracted beyond description — not more than fifteen or
twenty leagues from the miserable prison which I had felicitated myself at so
happily escaping from — abandoned by my comrades, and, who, of course, I
could not expect to remain — left in an open field in this miserable state ; in
one word, instant death, as I then thought, would have been a thousand times
preferable. However, Divine Providence, always ready to assist those who
repose confidence in it, designed to interpose its clemency. My comrades
began to chafe and rub the part affected with spirits, a small portion of which
each of us carried. I found instant relief from this remedy, and in a short
time, with their assistance, was able to stand up. To their repeated enquiries
about my knee, I replied, that I felt much better, though in fact I had little
hopes of being able to continue with them : but I feared discouraging these
brave fellows, who declared their determination not to quit me ; this noble
declaration inspired me with enthusiasm, and gave me fresh vigour and
courage. I made an effort to step out, but was under the necessity of requesting
that one would assist me on each side, which they did. Thus we moved on
slowly, and passed the village that we were so anxious about. My knee, I
was happy to feel, was gradually getting better, and we managed to march in
this state about three leagues, when we discovered a very fine commodious
wood.

(September 2. 1807.) It was about two o' clock. My comrades proposed
that we should rest here the ensuing day ; they would not on my account
proceed farther ; besides it was uncertain whether they might fall in with
another wood before daylight.

No intelligence could be more congenial to my feelings than this. I was
excessively weary and fatigued : so, having found a pro|)er part of the wood,
each took his position and a little refreshment, and then endeavoured to take
rest ; but so violently did my knee pain me, that I was obliged to have two
of my friends to lay their whole weight on my leg, thigh and right side ; they
fell fast asleep in a very short time, I could not close an eye. The distressing
and melancholy reflection of being left behind in consequence of my illness,
still recurred. The thought of being picked up, and conducted to some dreadful
dungeon, or some other ignominious habitation, was constantly present ;
replete with such ideas what mortal could think of sleeping ? Thus occupied
in thought, wavering between hope and despair, I remained nearly two hours
— my friends in a sound sleep all the time. At last, finding their weight on
my side troublesome', I extricated myself from them without awaking or
causing them the least disturbance. I now imagined I had an excellent oppor-
tunity of trying whether I could move without assistance, without alarming or
discouraging my fellow travellers ; I accordingly made an effort to stand up,
which I accomplished with some difficulty, and then attempted to walk ; but
I immediately tumbled backwards, from the excessive pain and weakness
of my knee. I afterwards made several similar essays in the course of the
next day, when my companions were asleep, but with no better success : I
encouraged them notwithstanding by saying I was much better.

To he continued.

116
> VERSES.

Bright thoughts of Lifers golden youth

Will ye never come again?
Can a look of grief not win ye,

Nor a sound of pain ?

Like the sunset's dying beauty,

Thought of in the long — lone night.

Memory holds your image treasured
More than mortal bright.

Like the well remember tone

Of some rich and olden measure,
Kept within the heart's deep cell

With a mournful pleasure.

Swift as colored hues of evening
Fade, when darkness shows its pall,

Ye but mark approaching sadness
And are withered all.

Will ye dwell for ever — ever —

With the loving and the young ?
Have ye not one little blessing

For the heart with sorrow stung ?

False friends. Will ye leave the mourners

For the light laugh's merry tones ?
Will ye leave the slave of sadness

In his grief — alone ?

Stern cares shadow manhood's way.

Age is but a name for pain.
Youth's sweet hopes and gentle feelings

Can ye never come again ?

Z.

117

FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

The discontinuance of my communications on the
Natural History of this neighbourhood has been
unavoidable, by reason of business. In resuming
my pen, to state the amount of my knowledge of the
Fossils of this district, I should feel ashamed to do
so, but for two reasons — firstly, the information which
has been collected on this subject has never been
presented to the public under an available form ;
and, secondly, I am enabled to bring before the
world certain additional facts which cannot fail to
prove interesting to all classes of readers, and in an
especial manner to those persons who have concerned
themselves with this department. It seems that the
animal remains of this neighbourhood may be refer-
red to two classes, — the " extinct'' and the " extirpa-
ted" kinds of Fleming, and that these are respectively
referable to two grand epochs of the changes of the
Earth. The former, which comprises animals of the
lower tribes, and which had exclusive possession of
the earth during its primaeval states, now found im-
bedded in limestone, clay-slate, and sandstone ; and
the latter, which comprises animals of a higher order,
not materially different from, (perhaps, in some cases
identical with) the present race — which occupied the
Earth some centuries ago ; but which, becoming the
victims of a flood, or acted upon after a natural or
accidental death, by the same element — are found at
this time in caverns of the lime rock, imbedded in,
and connected with, substances which attest the event
just alluded to.

It cannot be expected that in a Science for which
so little has yet been done, and in which at the same
time, I profess myself a novice ; I should lay before
your readers an account of genera and species of
Fossils, speaking in detail, and without hesitation ;
such could not be done by the best informed. I
shall proceed however to make some general remarks
on the distribution, &c., of the organic remains of the

118 FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

extinct tribes, and subjoin a list of those which have
been identified and named.

The entire range of lime-rock about Plymouth may
be stated to contain, in its substance, animal remains ;
although they are found in varied quantities, accord-
ing to the spot selected for examination ; they are
found to be most abundant at the junction of lime-
stone with ciay-slate ; in general they are observed
to be so disposed, that at one spot specimens of one
kind only — Zoophytes — are found ; and at another
spot, specimens of another kind — Shells ; — and again,
in respect of shells, bivalves and univalves are usually
found separate, although occasionally each may be
blended with zoophytes. They who are desirous of
verifying these remarks, which, while they originated
from a pemsal of Mr. Henneh's " Account of the
lime-rocks of Plymouth,'' I have had opportunities of
corroborating, may visit the following spots, — the
East Hoe, Mill Bay Quarry, Ordnance Quarry,
Mount Wise, and the Dock Yard : but it must be
borne in mind that, although, at these and other
places, well defined, and identified specimens can be
obtained, and which we shall presently enumerate,
there is an immense number of specimens to be seen
to which no name can be assigned ; and further, that
it has been supposed, and with every probability of
truth, that the varied and beautiful colors of our
limestone, are in great part owing to the remains of
organised beings. I feel quite convinced, from an
inspection of specimens of Zoophytic remains, which
almost exclusively composed a wall of some size,
near Yealmpton, and which I have also obtained
from quarries of limestone at Oreston, and other
spots, not mentioned by Mr. Henneh, that fossils
are continued through the same range from the point
where Mr. H. quits its consideration, at Prince Rock,
and I am likewise certain that many more kinds
than have been enumerated by him do exist : there
is one, indeed, which, from its interest and rarity,
deserves especial notice — a fossil fish, contained in

FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 119

the rock at Jenny Cliff, and now in the possession
of its discoverer, Mr. Wyatt, surgeon. Besides the
limestone, the adjoining depositions have been found
to contain animal remains.

Mr. Henneh informs us that he observed at Mount
Wise, a red, calcareous sand-stone, containing bi-
valve shells; and I have found that the fossil
Zoophytes, in the old wall before mentioned, and
which had been dug out of an adjoining quarry, are
by no means confined to the lime, but exist likewise
in the slate. Lastly, to support the statement of the
slate of this neighbourhood containing organic re-
mains, I may mention that, occasionally, pieces of
that substance are seen, with dendritic impressions ;
and, on examining a slate quarry, about one mile
from Yealmpton, I observed, in several parts of it,
fossils, wHlch, from their branched form, must either
be the remains of a kind of plant, or of a branched
Zoophyte, They resemble the trunk and chief limbs
of a large tree in their arrangement, are about one
foot in extent, the trunk usually zig-zag, and about
a quarter of an inch broad, consists of extremely
narrow bands of the slate joined together like the
rings of an earth-worm, and these being opposed in
direction to the fibres of the surrounding slate, prove
that it is no fortuitous occurrence, and must depend
on the former presence of an animal or plant — most
probably the first named of these.

The second kind of animal remains of this district
consists of the bones of animals which have from
time to time been discovered in caverns of the lime-
rock. On inspecting the quarries of this substance,
which exist plentifully around Plymouth, vertical
sections of caverns or hollows are observed. It is
aside the intention of this paper to discuss the
manner in which these cavities originated ; but I
may remark that they take very various directions,
and have been seldom if ever traced to their external
communication — a circumstance rather attributable
to the difficulty of so doing, from their intricate

120 FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

course, their occasional narrowness, blocked passages
and so forth, than to the deficiency of an entry as
has been supposed by some ; and that they almost
invariably contain substances, and deposits of various
kinds, which resulted from the action of commoved
and agitated waters ; some of them are filled with
fine sand and pebbles, some with clay and fragments
of stone, and perhaps here and there a bone imbedded
with these, or incrusted with stalagmite : lastly,
some contain an immense assemblage of bones of
animals, impacted in clay, and stalagmite, which are
usually laying confusedly and mixed up, one species
with another ; generally also in fragments and splin-
ters, and which on examination appear not essentially
different, either in external qualities or in composition,
from bones which have been exhumed ^ter a few
years interment. Caves in the lime -rock, containing
sand, are, I think, by no means scarce : only two
however have occurred to me, one adjoining the
coach road under the Hoe, and another at a quarry
near Yealmpton. Caves containing clay are likewise
not scarce, but are less generally observed than the
former, for an evident reason. Caves containing
bones are not so common. Previously to this com-
munication I suspect that the " Oreston Caves " are
those only which are known to be of this class, I
have now to inform the public that caves of the same
kind occur at Yealmpton ; one of them which was
discovered about a year since was rich in animal
remains ; but these we regret to state were provok-
ingly squandered or thrown aside. A second of
these is the cave which, from bein<x beautifully deco-
rated with stalactites and stalagmites, is preserved
from injury, and occasionally lighted up by order of
the curious. By order of Mr. Bastard, the proprietor,
a pathway was dug through the stalagmite and other
substances which compose the floor, when bones of
a large animal were discovered, and are still in situ.
After this occurrence, an adjoining cavern was di-
rected to be emptied of its clay, in the hopes that

FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 121

other relics might be obtained ; Mr. B. was disap-
pointed, although a fact of another kind presented
itself — the cavern had an opening into the one just
mentioned. A third instance is that which I shall
now particularize, having been the first person who
has taken a decided and scientific notice of it. It
occurs at Yealm Bridge Quarry, eight miles from
Plymouth, and one mile from the village of Yealmp-
ton. About three years ago^j the men employed in
working the rock, exposed a narrow fissure in its
substance, which took a nearly horizontal direction ;
they had been ordered to blow the rock in the same
course as this cavity pursued, and, from the moment
it was first opened to the present time, when it is no
longer traceable (excepting a small arm of it which
passes under a cart-road), bones of various size and
shape presented themselves continually to view ; so
that from the account which I have received, the
quantity contained must have exceeded three cart-
loads. These circumstances came to my knowledge,
just as a small and the only remaining portion of the
cavity was being emptied of its contents. The bones
previously removed had been employed as rubbish,
and were no longer recoverable, so that the facts
which I desired to be possessed of could be drawn
only from this remnant. The cavity itself, which
was on a gentle slope, with, however, certain excep-
tions to this, must have presented a rude square,
with an area of about 60 or 80 feet ; the separation
between the floor and roof, according to account,
varied from 1 to 6 feet, and its depth, from the sur-
face of the earth, as it formerly stood, may be esti-
mated at 30 feet. The opposed surfaces of this, as
in other caverns of lime-rock, were clothed respect-
ively with stalactite and stalagmite. Where the cave
rises towards the earth's surface, I looked earnestly
for, and enquired of the men concerning some exter-
nal communication ; but, in their conversations on
the subject, it had been a common remark with

VOL VI. — 1835. Q

122 FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

them that no opening was diseernable ; and I looked
in vain for any trace of it, although, from the advan-
ced destruction of the rock, this is not surprising,
and furnishes no argument against the existence of
one. The bones were enveloped in clay, and a very
rich black mould. Pebbles, such as are found by
the sea-side, or in rivers, occurred at intervals, as
did also breccia or hard masses, which I found to
be pieces of clay, of limestone, of bone, and some
pebbles cemented together by stalagmite. Generally
the bones were in fragments and splinters ; many of
them appearing to have been thus broken by the
teeth of some predatory beast, and some are undoubt-
edly marked by these. Tlie cyHndrical bones are
usually deprived of their extremities when otherwise
entire ; while the smaller and thicker bones remain
whole ; and it appears that two or three skulls of
the Hyaena, in good preservation, were turned out
some time back, and lost. The teeth, which occurred
in great quantities, are likewise usually perfect, and
seemed in no way different from recent specimens,
and the bones themselves appear to have suffered no
other alterations than loosing their animal matter,
and thereby becoming so extremely dry, that the
tongue or lip will remain attached to them on the
slightest appUcation, and receiving into their com-
position a certain quantity of lime derived from the
droppings from the roof. Excluded from the action
of the air it seems that bones may remain for ages
unaltered ; but, when these same bodies were ex-
posed for a few days and nights to the alternations
of the temperature, I found that their decomposition
proceeded rapidly. Generally, the bones lay in the
utmost confusion, so that rarely were two bones of
the same species of animal found together : Phalan-
gal bones however were usually in proximity to each
other, and, at the spot where bones of a rat and of a
mouse were found, those of other animals were not
seen. There appears no reason to doubt, from a

FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD. 123

circumstance to be noticed presently, that the pro-
portion of carnivorous animals greatly exceeded the
herbivorous and other creatures here entombed ;
for, whilst it v^as difficult to collect the teeth of the
ox, horse, and rhinoceros, as many as seven dozens
of canine teeth of the hysena, were extracted from
the clay in the before-mentioned remnant of the cave.
In emptying this small porton which yet remained
untouched, we took especial care to notice every
substance as it was turned out. This hollow, which
constituted one of the irregularities in the general
shape of the cavern, took a perpendicular course ;
and to such a depth, that, after a short time, we
could no longer prosecute our researches. Its area
did not exceed 4 feet. On removing the rubble
which had tumbled over it, we came to a floor of
stalagmite, about three inches in depth, such as
occurred in every direction of the cavern ; sealing
down the clay and its contents. This substance
passes under the name of " callus'' among the work-
men. After this we exposed the clay and black
mould, containing, at uncertain intervals, bones and
teeth of the following animals : — Rhinoceros, horse,
ox, hysena, wolf, fox, sheep, rabbit or hare, and
polecat, or animal of that size and kind. Imbedded
in the soil, some depth from the callus, we found
faeces of the wolf or hysena, (technically " grsecum
album") and likewise two snail shells, which corres-
pond pretty well with the helix nemoralis. Many
of the bones have been attacked by disease, the
result I think of inflammation. Some of them are
those of young animals, and others evidently belonged
to individuals of great age. Whilst excavating we
occasionally remarked masses like a spongy fibrous
clay, which formerly may have been animal matter.
The bones of the rat and mouse were at some dis-
tance from the other relics, and imbedded in argilaci-
ous soil, immediately beneath the callus.

124 FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

The men assured us they had found two skeletons
of birds, in a crumbHng state, in a narrow part of the
fissure, lying separate from every other substance ;
but this account should be received with caution.
Altogether, the Facts collected bear a curious and
striking analogy to those connected with the Oreston
caves and others of a like description. There are,
however, some circumstances which differ, and which
constitute additional information to what is already
known, respecting these deposits. It seems that the
Oreston caves, likewise, contained relics such as
have not been met with here — these are — bones of
the elephant, deer, and tiger ; but, being deficient in
many of those found in the Yealm Bridge cave, and
other circumstances in connexion with the latter
being at variance with those of the former, the con-
clusions arrived at, respectively, must likewise vary.
These considerations will induce the author of this
paper to discuss, on a future occasion, the conclusions
deducible from such facts. It is not possible to
enumerate and reflect on the natural productions of
a spot without perceiving and regarding the evident
connexions, dependencies, and relations, which they
bear to the entire series, and so here, when, by the
examination of fossil bones, we are enabled to look
back to former ages of the world, and to call up to
our view, by the magic aid of science, the former
aspect and condition of this small portion of the
earth ; we find the subject blended with, and insepa-
rable from, the theories and arguments concerning the
epochs of the world, the changes which it and its
inhabitants have undergone, the destinies of mankind
through successive generations, and the immutability
of the Laws of Nature.

FOSSILS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD,

125

TABLE OF FOSSILS FOUND NEAR PLYMOUTH.

Plants (perhaps Algae) > j ^

Branched Zoophyte ] ^"^ ^^^^^

Fish

Madreporites

Coralites

Eucrinites

Alcyonite ?

Orthoceratite

Entrochite

Trochite

Echinites

Serpulae

Pecten

Anomia

Cardium

Ostrea

Mytilus

Mya?

Terebratula

Enomphalus

Turbo

In Limestone,
Sandstone, and
Clay-slate.

Animals of the Lower
Orders, different from ex-
isting races. Referable to
a very ancient era. In
part the " Extinct Ani-
mals" of Fleming. Form-
ing substantially part of
the containing rock, in the
characters and composition
of which they largely par-
ticipate.

Elephant

Rhinoceros

Horse

Ox

Deer

Tiger

Hyena

Wolf

Sheep

Fox

Rabbit

Polecat

Rat

Mouse

Birds ?

Helix

In Caverns of
Limestone.

The Higher Orders of
Animals, analogous to ex-
isting races. Referable to
a modern epoch. In part
the " Extirpated Animals"
of Fleming. Unconnected
with the rock. Scarcely
altered in properties or
composition.

Philophysicus.

126

THERESA ABRUZZI.

The joy of Mantua was great and undissembled at the approach-
ing nuptials of the bravest of her sons with the fairest and most
amiable of her daughters. Marco, the only child of the widowed
Marquis Petroni, had served under the viceroy Beauharnois, with
honor to himself and credit to his native city, and had even
attracted the particular observation of the penetrating and sagaci-
ous Napoleon, by his coolness and intrepidity on several occasions
of great difficulty and peril. The youth, in common with most
of his compatriots, had regarded the Emperor as the destined
emancipator of his country from her long slumber of thraldom
and abasement, but a clearer knowledge of the character and
views of that ambitious and selfish commander had long taught
him the fallacy of his hopes ; when the reverses consequent on
the battle of Leipsic dissolved the proud but baseless fabric of
despotism, and restored the young warrior to the arms of a fond
and doating father. The admiration that greeted his return to
Mantua was loud and deserved. Toil and travel had but
'perfected the graces of his noble form : the ever-changing life and
duties of a soldier had contributed only to foster the enthusiasm
of his soul, the ardent and generous impulses of his nature. He
had trod the red fields of war with unsullied step, and for him
its laurel had no poison.

First among those who welcomed his return to his native city
were the long-attached friends of his father, the count and countess
Abruzzi, whose only daughter, with somewhat of a prophetic
spirit, had been playfully bethrothed to . him in their years of
childhood. Marco had left Theresa a blooming girl, lively as
a fawn, and not less gentle; he found her a lovely woman, whose
beauty was her least perfection. Amazed, delighted, enamoured,
with the natural ardour of his temperament he sought and won
her affections; and by families long united in friendship, and rich
in ancestry and wealth, what more could be desired than that
cementing tie which the union of children, mutually loving and
beloved, was about to produce ! The count Abruzzi, it is true,
was once heard to say, that, had not Theresa rejected the prince
of Castel-Monti, his house might have looked down on that of
Petroni; but a gentle remonstrance from the more generous
countess silenced the latent discontent which this observation
seemed to imply. On the other hand, the marquis Petroni, who
lived but in his son, hastened the nuptial preparations with an

THERESA ABRUZZr. 127

anxiety which seemed to border on folly ; but he was declining
in years and health, and it could not reasonably therefore be
matter of surprise that he should be desirous, by the marriage of
that son, to secure him from further wanderings. Two days only
were to elapse before the celebration of the holy rite, to which all
Mantua looked forward with impatient joy, when the marquis
was suddenly taken ill, and in a few hours breathed his last in
the arms of his distracted child. The violence of the seizure had
deprived him almost instantly of the power of speech; and, as it
seemed, at a time when some fatal secret was labouring in his
breast. The expiring struggles of humanity are at all times
awful ; but when to the throes of nature are added the pangs of
conscience, how dreadful are the last moments of man ! In vain
did Marco attempt to tranquillize his wretched parent; even as
his eyes glazed in death his looks were of sorrow and despair.

The count Abruzzi assisted at the last obsequies of the mar-
quis, with great apparent grief for his friend and sympathy in the
feelings of his successor; and from his lips, after the mournful
ceremonies were concluded, Marco received the only consolation
his heart could then admit — an assurance, that after such reason-
able delay as reverence for the departed claimed from affection
and duty, the nuptials should be solemnized.

" I tremble at delay ! " said the mourner.

" You need not,'' replied the count : " I swear to you, by the
soul of your lamented sire, that Theresa shall be yours.''

A few days only had, however, elapsed when a marked change
was seen in the deportment of the count, who now seemed to
shun the young marquis as sedulously as he had before sought
him. Dark whispers were abroad, that the late marquis, from
extravagance and a propensity to gaming, indulged in secret at
Venice and other places, was a ruined man ; and each succeeding
day served but to strengthen affirmations which none ventured to
deny. Marco awaking from a dream of grief, found himself sud-
denly abandoned by tliose whom he had deemed his friends ;
while a host of creditors were loudly clamouring for the discharge
of obligations, the existence of which he had believed impossible.
Alas! the dying agonies, of his father were now explained. He
knew too well the ruinous consequences of his infatuated career
not to reflect on the approaching misery of a beloved son with the
bitterest remorse. He felt too late how fatal had been a rivalry,
never acknowledged but always existing, between the houses of
Petroni and Abruzzi; and how unavailing had been his endea-

128 THERESA ABRUZZI.

vours to rear the tottering fabric of his fortunes by the desperate
expedient of gaming, till, drawn into a vortex from which he
vainly endeavours to escape, he at last owed his ruin to the very ■
means by which he had hoped to avert it. These unwelcome
truths were but too soon revealed to the heart-stricken Marco.
Far, however, from brooding over evils that were irremediable,
he roused at once the latent energies of his nature to grapple with
the calamity, and extract from the bitter draught presented to
him a salutary balsam, if such might be, to aid and strengthen
him in the hour of trial. The amount of claims he found would
leave him in possession of a fortune too limited to uphold the
dignity of his house, yet still sufficing in some distant spot to
yield all that love could desire. Would the count under such
circumstances hold his promise sacred ? Alas ! his conduct
seemed but too evident of his purpose. Would Theresa herself
accept a portionless yet not degraded nobleman ? The question
almost unmanned him. — "To lose her! — but no, I cannot, will
not resign her! From her own lips will I learn my fate — and if

she reject me '^ The thought was too painful. With a

desperation of purpose, in which the impetuosity of his tempera-
ment was but too apparent, he sought the villa Abruzzi.

The sun was just setting as he entered by a private gate, that
led to the gardens ; and sunset in that delicious climate is a scene
of splendid beauty. The richly-blending hues of leaf and flower
were now bathed in a flood of light, as resplendent as fleeting.
Tint after tint, gradually receding in brilliancy, yet not less beau-
tiful in the softer glow reflected from that crimsoned west which
the sun had now forsaken, faded into shadow, unbroken, save by
the vivid fire-fly, that seemed to triumph in the swift falling
gloom which veils the repose of nature : and oh, how lovely is
that repose ! — Agitated as was the soul of Marco, the voice of
passion yielded insensibly to the silent yet not less powerful
influence of that sweet hour of stillness and serenity.

" Alas 1" he exclaimed, " what is the splendour of courts or
palaces to the flowery enamelling of nature — the blue o'er-arching
canopy of heaven ! In a spot like this." A light step interrupted
his meditations ; it was Theresa heself. •
" Marco here?" she exclaimed.

'* Aye," cried he, seizing her hand with a melancholy earnest-
ness— " I am Marco still, art thou still Theresa?"
" I am," replied the maiden firmly.

THERESA ABRUZZI. 129

He sank on his knee, and pressed her hand to his lips. " For-
give me, Theresa, if I doubted thee for a moment. I am a
wretched bewildered outcast. Alas ! it may be that you are yet
a stranger to my utter destitution and misery ! " The tears of
Theresa fell fast on his burning cheek. " That misery, Marco,
could alone excuse this unmanly burst of passion. I know much
— perhaps not all ; tell me the worst."

" I am ruined, Theresa ! and by whom ! — my fond misguided
father ! I rnight indeed" — and his eyes flashed fire as he spoke,
" I might yet whistle off these gasping creditors, and laugh their
claims to scorn : they cannot compel — Away, away, unworthy
thought! shall I outrage the memory of my departed sire, and,
to uphold my own name, abandon his to scorn and contumely ?
No, Theresa, not even for thee, all angel as thou art, could I
blast the honor of my dead father."

" Marco ! my own, noble Marco, dearer to me in this lone
hour than in thy zenith of fame and fortune ! whatever be thy
fate, Theresa is still thine ! By yon blue heaven I swear never to
wed another ! "

" My angelic Theresa ! "

" Nay, nay, my friend, I but renew a vow yielded under hap-
pier auspices. My faith was given to thee alone; art thou not
still Marco ! — Let all things change but woman's love ! be mine
like yon glorious star, that shines more brightly as the light of
day recedes ! "

" Is this well done, young man?" said the count breaking
hastily on their conference; '^ is it well done to intrude on the
privacy of my daughter? have the doors of my house been closed
against you, that you thus seek entrance by unaccustomed paths ?"

" Your pardon count ! " replied Marco somewhat proudly ;
" if to avoid the casual encounter of menials, who might look
with scorn on my altered fortunes, need grace or pardon. I knew
not that I should be so blest as to meet my Theresa here."

" Well, well," cried the count abruptly, " be your motives as
they might, it is now time we should understand each other."

Marco shuddered, but spoke not.

The count continued, with some embarrassment : — " You must
be quite aware that our projected alliance is now at an end."

"My father;" cried Theresa faintly.

"At an end?" repeated Marco.

"The count does but jest with you," exclaimed tlie countess,
coming forward.

VOL VI. — 18 35. R

130 THERESA ABRUZZI.

•'* My lady countess, we looked not for your presence," cried
the count peevishly ; " and for jesting, it were ill-timed on this
occasion. I speak with strong regret, but from a sense of duty
which must be controlled. When I promised my daughter to
you in marriage, marquis, I pledged her to one of nobility illus-
trious as my own, and of wealth equal, if not superior. Prove
to me that you are still the same, and Theresa is yours."

" This is but mockery," cried Marco; "you know too well,
count, the ruin that impends over the house of Petroni : yet
promises, my lord, are, or should be, sacred."

"The honour of our house demands it," interrupted the
countess.

" Peace, peace, my lady ! " cried the count; *' you are too hot.
What promise have I broken? all engagements of this nature are
conditional ; and on one condition I am yet willing to fulfil
mine."

"And what condition is there," exclaimed Marco, " that count
Abruzzi can ask and I deny ? "

The count seemed confused, but the swift-spreading shadow
aided him as he proceeded : " I am not to learn that there are
claims on the Petroni property which would absorb perhaps the
whole ; nor am I to be informed that it is at your option to admit
or reject them. Shake off these incumbrances.'*

" And shall I do so, count ? " exclaimed Marco, his eyes light-
ening with indignation and scorn ; " and would you take to your
arms a son who had renounced the duty, the reverence, the affec-
tion of a child ; one whom the finger of scorn would pursue as a
renegade from all that man holds sacred or woman glorious ?
Would you give your daughter, and such a daughter, to one
whose wealth was purchased by infamy, whom the never-dying
voice of an outraged parent would haunt in his halls of pride,
aye, even in the arms of love ? Oh Theresa ! why am I compelled
to this ?"

" It is enough," said the count ; " our contract is dissolved."

" Dissolved ?" repeated Marco, in a voice of thunder; *' then
is there no faith in man ! "

" Remember ! " exclaimed Theresa faintly.

" I do remember," continued her lover, " that unhallowed
night, when, over the grave of him whose memory is dishonoured
even by this parley, you, count, swore to give me your daughter
— Nay, nay, hear me out, I was then rich, it matters not for
words — I was esteemed so, I was the honored, the illustrious.

THERESA ABRUZZI. 131

the almost deified Marquis Petroni. What am I now ? a sup-
pliant, an outcast ! "

" You are too warm."

" It may be so ; yet have I not cause ? What reservation was
there ? none — by yon bright heaven I swear it ! To me, rich or
poor, was Theresa affianced, and at your hands, ih the face of
heaven, I now claim her."

A dead pause succeeded, which the countess was the first to
break.

"Is this true, Abruzzi?"

" I have been absolved from my oath/' the count slowly mur-
mured; "the holy father .''

" Name it not," cried the countess passionately; "there is no
power, save His in whose presence we now stand, that could
absolve a free-will vow : and, oh, Abruzzi ! " continued his noble
partner, more calmly, but with not less fervour, " can you desire
it ? If calamity hath overwhelmed the fortunes of Petroni,
Petroni himself is still unsullied, and the house of Abruzzi, by
adopting him as its own, will gain a treasure far greater than he
has lost : — our wealth is ample.''

"And shall I bestow it on a beggar?"

"Oh shame, shame!" exclaimed the countess: "hear not
Marco, our degredation ; hear not the wretched man, who for
the vile dross of earth would barter even heaven. Theresa, listen
to a mother — "

" Say rather to a father," interrupted the count, " since a
mother so far forgets her duty. Theresa, my curse, a father's
deadly curse, be on you — no knees to me."

" Forbear, Abruzzi ! " cried the countess wildly, ^* for the love
of heaven, forbear! Behold me, thy wife, the daughter of. a
princely house ; behold thy weeping child, and him whom thy
unhallowed words have stricken to the soul ; heboid us at thy
feet, and breathe thy horrid imprecations if thou canst."

"If I can?" cried the infuriated count. "May, then, the
curse of heaven ."

" No, no, Abruzzi, it will but recoil on your own head. Oh,
for the sake of her whom thy passion will destroy," for Theresa
now lay fainting at his feet, " for his sake whose noble forbearance
in this hour of trial might shame thy unholy wrath — how ? speak
you not? are all my adjurations vain? Nay, go not, Abruzzi;
if we part thus, we part for ever."

" Then be it so ! " exclaimed the count.

132 THERESA ABRUZZJ.

The countess looked wildly at him for a moment, pressed her
hands on her forehead, and fell to the earth msensible. They
hastened to raise her — alas ! in vain. In the violence of her
emotion, the very strings of life had loosened; a vessel had burst
on the brain, and tlie noble, the generous countess was a corpse.

The events of some succeeding weeks must be passed lightly
over. The count was for a time inconsolable, and the emotions
of Theresa were such as to endanger her life : during this period
the agony of Marco was almost beyond endurance. The remains
of the countess were borne to the family tomb with princely pomp
and magnificence, which seemed intended as a feeble atonement to
the dead for injustice to the living. Vain as is that last subter-
fuge of intruding conscience it contributed to lull the remorse of
the count, whose ruling avarice once more arose, as the better
feelings of his nature grew less vivid, and rendered him as averse
as before to the fulfilment of his engagements. The fading
cheek, the dim eye, and the pleading looks of Theresa, had less
power over his will than the reviving desire of an alliance with
the prince of Castel-Monti, whom the knowledge of the altered
fortunes of Petroni had emboldened to renew his pretensions.
Marco, on the recovery of his mistress, had suddenly quitted
Mantua, and was not yet returned. The count, re-assured by
his absence, had urged the addresses of Castel-Monti on Theresa
with an earnestness which, in her enfeebled state of mind and
body, the memory of her oath could alone have enabled her to
resist.

" These continued refusals," said he, one day when the prince,
again repulsed, had left the palace with some indication of resent-
ment; "these repeated refusals, my child, are unkind and un-
dutiful. Petroni, it is clear, has wisely and justly abandoned
his pretensions, and you are now therefore free." A faint shriek
from Theresa interrupted his counsels — Marco stood before them.

For some time no one found utterance for feelings which were
bitter enough in all.

" I stand before you, count," at length Marco said, ** poor, but
stainless. I dust not risk temptation, even for Theresa. My
father's manes are appeased — his debts are no more ! "

" And the wealth of Petroni is also no more ? "

*' It is nearly so, count."

" You know my determination, ask me not to repeat it."

" Will nothing then change it ? has the past spoken in vain ? '*

THERESA ABRUZZI. 133

" We thought you had relinquished this fruitless passion/'
cried the count, evading the question ; " and the prince of Castel-
Monti— "

"How, Theresa; have you too, forgotten your vow?"

"A vow, Theresa! what folly is this?" exclaimed the count.

" Marco," cried the maiden, " I have sworn to you, I swear to
you again, in the presence of my only parent, never to wed
another. Oh, my father ! you must, you will forgive your poor
Theresa, for her sake who is now no more, and in whose blessed
name I also vow never to wed even my own, my best-beloved
Marco, till your consent shall hallow our union."

*' You have been unwise in this," cried tlie count.

" Theresa," exclaimed Marco, " though by this vow you have
perhaps blighted my hopes for ever, I honour, I revere, the
feeling from which it springs ; and oh, if it be possible, I love
thee more dearly than ever. Say not, count, that we must part.
Can I, ought I, to relinquish that hope which, come weal or woe,
shall shine my beacon, my guiding-star through all ! "

" I will not be urged," replied the count in great embarrass-
ment; " let me know the present state of your fortunes : if there
be any chance of a retrieval, I may yet be prevailed on to comply ;
but, the honour of my house forbids me to bestow my child on
one, whose title is his only possession. In a week we will talk
of this again."

At the expiration of a week, Marco again appeared, but with
a gloomy earnestness in his manner, wholly different from his
usual frank and unreserved deportment.

" I find," said he, speaking with great agitation, " that there
are certain sums owing to ray late father, which time and perse-
verance may yet recover."

"It is well," said the count; "you talk now like a just and
honorable man." Marco started. " I will not deal harshly with
you," continued the count: ** you are both young; much is due
to the memory of our late regretted countess ; and a year's delay
will not be too much. If, therefore, on the festival of St. Michael
in the ensuing year you prove to me that you are in poss-
ession of funds sufficient to uphold your dignity, Theresa shall
be yours. If, on the contrary, your efforts are unsuccessful, you
shall on that day renounce your pretensions, and, mark me!
release her from the further observance of her rash and foolish
vow."

To he continued.

134
THE BRAHMIN.

WRITTEN, FOR THE "MUSEUM," BY MISS SOPHIE DIXON.

Where G^ges, nursed amid eternal snows
O'er Ind's bright realm, a mighty current, flows,
And, as a God adored with rite and prayer,
Hears strange devotion mingle on the air;
A Brahmin, on his river's hallowed bound.
Taught his meek followers duteous ranged around ;
From his mild lips, with solemn zeal impressed,
The awful doctrine thrilled each pupil breast.
As heavenly truth their hearts that law received.
They saw no cloud obscure what they believed ;
But the sage teacher, and his words, revered,
And what they scant could love in silenceyeared.

" Know ye this sacred mystery" — began

His dark speech built on Wisdom's secret plan.

From Thought's deep shadows gathering stronger light,

As brightest stars illume the darkest night.

" Know ye this sacred mystery, — the will

Of Bramah, which his endless worlds fulfil;

How in the human breast a spark of heaven

To guide the wandering heart of man was given*

Severed from His pure uncorrupted Flame,

It dwells and darkens in our mortal frame;

Debased by crime, with vain desires oppressed.

Sin's thousand forms its earthly home molest :

Struggling with ill, in war of passion tossed,

Its pure Original obscured or lost.

Pollution's stain hath all its nature changed.

And the dimmed ray of God, from God estranged.

Yet — erring, weak, — His principle survives,

Immortal, though it ranged ten thousand lives.

Through every form that breathes, in penance strait.

It wanders on in transmigrated fate ;

Changing its outward semblance, still proceeds.

Atonement just for man's unrighteous deeds ;

The brutish shape a human spirit warms.

Bird, insect, worm, a living soul informs;

Condemned to pain and death, in every grade

Some error, or some sin, must be repaid.

THE BRAHMIN.

135

Till the full measure of offence made clear,

Through matter's cloud the beams of Heaven appear,

And the long penal expiation o'er,

Man's soul resumes the form of man once more.

For this, the Son of Bralima taught his race

To reverence Life's minutest dwelling-place ;

The smallest worm that crawls the dust, to spare,

Nor harm the slightest fly that skims the air.

From Murder's taint thy hand be undefiled !

At home, abroad, for Life is Brahma's child ;

Ere world's began, from Him its spirit came.

To Him returns the unextinguished flame.

Oh, then beware ! each scene of slaughter fly.

Nor from His shrine dislodge the deity I

Perchance some brother's soul, some kindred mind,

Thy guilty hand to suffering had designed,

Withdraw that hand, — the tempter. Sin, refuse.

Since heaven's just wrath the deed of death pursues ;

Dread forfeit shalt thou pay — through forms of pain

Ordained to pass, till anguish cleanse the stain,

Till equal misery thy soul hath known.

And pangs endured, for pangs thou gav'st atone.

Through noisome beasts; and insects vile or weak.

For rest in vain thy spark of life shall seek,

A wandering outcast from yon spirit-sphere,

Age after age the soul shall linger here :

Think of the crime, the punishment it draws,

Think, ere too late ; forbear the fatal cause !

From earthly sin thy mortal nature guard ;

Immortal is thy piety's reward !

Bind not in chains of brutalizing sense,

A ray of Brahma's pure intelligence,

His will obey. His dread displeasure fear,

And, even in thee, the latent God revere.''

His pupils round to calm attention awed,

The holy Teacher's sacred law applaud ;

As heaven's just will the eternal mandate heed

And hold with faith unfeigned the Brahmin's creed.

As day declined, to various rites addressed,
Each took the way that served his duties best;

136 THE BRAHMIN.

All, save the sage, — to studious thought resigned,
God's awful spirit filled his labouring mind ;
All seemed revealed by that internal light.
His power. His goodness, — all was infinite !
Fountain of Truth ! diffusing through the whole
That moral sense which warmed the Brahmin's soul
And bade him to each thirsty mind dispense
The hallowed drops of pure benevolence.
But 'mid that crowd of hearers, one had heard
Unmoved, the teacher's monitory word ;
He, from the shores of Europe, zealous brought
Christ's purer faith, and Christ's salvation taught:
Long pondering o'er the Brahmin's law, he stood,
Vague maxims ! wrought of evil and of good.
How should he best with Error's zeal contend.
Yet leave untouched the truths he could not mend ?
Soon as the raptured mood of thought was past,
And human feeling found its way at last,
With microscopic lens, he bade the sage
Read mighty Nature's undiscovered page ;
How, in each speck of air, or drop of dew,
Dwell living myriads, eye could never view;
Seen not, save when the artist, Science, brings
Her wondrous aid, and shows undreamed-of things.
On every leaf what swarming nations dwell,
Or range at large, within a floweret's cell !
In vain the hope to breathe, yet still avoid
The crime, if heaven avenge each life destroyed.
" Simple thy fare, — but mark ! each herb and tree
Sustains a race that dies to nourish thee.
And though thy drink the crystal wave supply.
See, in each draught what harmless beings die.
Think then ; could Brahma e'er that law ordain
Man could not keep ; and make his mandate vain ?
Did He those forms create, and also thee,
Yet bid thy life from guilt like this be free?
Know then a wiser Faith ! and gather thence
The rules of God's eternal providence :
No favorite race is His — no chosen land —
All human-kind partake His guardian hand:
From Him no rigid laws, oh Brahmin ! flow,
Mercy and truth are His, where'er we go;

THE BRAHMIN. 137

From love to God, let love for man be thine,

And own the faith, o'er all of earth Divine!

Aghast the Sage beheld ! Blank horror shook

His withered frame, and froze his deadening look ;

His anxious eye with speechless thought was filled,

From every pore the chilly sweat distilled.

A moment — and that thought to frenzy grew,

Wild to the earth the fatal Glass he threw ;

For Brahma's cause with one fierce movement wroke

His zeal, — and into glittering atoms broke

The mystic instrument of knowledge brought

Like a dark cloud before his eye and thought ;

Then thus, scarce calmed, with shuddering life confessed

The grief and dread that harrowed up his breast;

** Stranger ! that crystal to mine eye hath shown

Things unrevealed, and mysteries unknown,

Mocked all the truths by thousand Sages taught,

And blanked with doubt this agonizing thought.

Vain Wisdom's search, — for Wisdom pierced not through

That mystic medium ^twixt the false and true,

Which crushed to fragments, comes no more between

Our two dread worlds — the seen, and the unseen :

Never again shall eye perceive that light

Which only serves to show how dark our night;

Of Brahma's sons, none other e'er behold

The secret wonders Bramah left untold,

Or knowing heaven's forbidden knowledge, be

For ever wretched, — as thou makest me !

VOL. VI.— 1835.

138

THE MISERIES OF
A TENDER-EARED MAN.

" I love to hear a brazen can-stick turned,
Or a dry wheel grate on its axle-tree."

Shakskearb. (a little altered.)

Patient Reader ! (reader hast thou patience?) I am a bachelor !
A genuine, fate-stricken, friend-deserted, comfortless, middle-aged
bachelor, being in the prime of life, to wit, 64 years old.

Would that what I have already said contained the full measure
of my woes ; but, alas ! the world chills me, its inhabitants frown
on me, and Nature verily loves to sport with me. Oh, the tale
that I could tell of sad and dispiriting vexations would paralyze
any one not endowed with nerves of brass, or a brain of iron, and
an indomitable vigour of mind, such as I in truth must possess.
Oil, how I hate the sing-song of words, the sad reiteration of
unpleasant noises, the barbarous torture of sounds which some
■would fain persuade me were cheering to the ear; certainly they
have not, neither ever had they, any charms for me ; and, rather
than be doomed to listen to the perpetration of them, I would
yield up the least useful of my organs — or, in other words, the
exercise of my auricular powers.

A few lamentable citations will suffice to give a tone of truth
to these well-founded complaints ; and, as a sample from a series,
I will merely recount two days of my last week's perplexities ;
and, after that, judge, candid reader, with sympathy.

Last Sunday morning found me a boarder in the house of the
widow Trebletongue ; I having selected her apartments, as she
lived alone, and had no children, and, moreover, I was to be
favored with a private apartment, with the window, from the street,
facing, and within three feet of, a high stone wall; this I judged
would just suit me, as I should be sufficiently far removed from
the continued noise and din of a densely peopled thoroughfare.
I had entered on the previous evening. My landlady (poor soul;
contrived to interlard all her discourse with most lugubrious
mentionings of her dear, departed husband, God rest him ! While
serving up supper, she gave me such a specimen of her volur
bility that I determined, so far as in me lay, to avoid it altogether,
to which end I locked myself within my room during the Sun-
day, only leaving it at meal times, or occasionally to administer
consolation, with my riding whip, to a cat which spent the greater
part of the morning on the stairs, lamenting the hapless fate of

THE MISERIES OF A TEND-EREARED MAN. 139

some dozen tortoise-shell kittens, her progeny, which had been
engulfed in a bucket of water on the preceding evening. Here I
contrived to wile away the time, in the hope of enjoying one
happy hour of silence, which indeed I might be said to enjoy,
when the "sound of a church going bell" in the immediate
vicinity ceased from its labo\^rs, which it did during the intervals
of three peals of half an hour each. The ticking of a clock
outside the door, was a source of temporary annoyance, but this
I remedied by slipping the weight chain from off the wheel on to
its axle. Night came, and with it the quietness of sleep. I had
a heavenly dream of a "world without sound/'

I awoke on Monday morning, without any head-ache, and full
of that exhilaration which is always the result of undisturbed
repose; " thank heaven," I exclaimed "I have, at last, found a
silent resting place,"

My landlady entered, and I greeted her with a smile, talked
kindly of the weather ; but in as few words as possible, and I
positively fancied myself ten years younger. O I the evanescence
of sublunary happiness; in an instant I felt a sudden and power-
ful shock; to what may I compare it? perhaps the violence of
electricity, and the endurance of apoplexy. The unremitting,
unrelenting rattle of a fast-going bell pealed out its voice of discord
from a shed above my window. Never did a poor condemned
malefactor sadden more at the last sound of warning, than I did
at the hubbub overhead ; but alas it was succeeded by one of a
more fearful character; the door of my room opened on the stairs,
and, on a sudden, the latter seemed to be suffering under the
throes of an earthquake, and speaking with the voice of a volcano.
But mystery soon gave place to reality ; for, on venturing to look,
I was astounded at the appearance of some hundred and fifty
boys, who were proceeding to their school-room, which was
situated directly over my parlour. To be sure the noise on the
stairs was of no long continuance, but it was replaced by a most
uproarious clatter of busy feet over head, which produced an
unending din.

My happy genius soon found a palliative to my woes ; on
enquiry, I found that the school closed at four, so I hied me away
to the fields, and there found the quiet which I love, here I re-
mained until dinner-time; on my return to my lodgings, I found
that the boys had been dismissed and the house was in a state of
complete tranquillity. Dinner, and my glass of brandy and
water, provoked an inclination for 3 doze, but this was disturbed

140 THE MISERIES 01< A TENDER-EARED MAN.

by uncomfortable visions, and phantoms which appeared to be
shouting through a speaking-trumpet, firing off carronades close to
my ear, and exploding bomb-shells under the sofa-pillow. On
waking, I discovered tlie cause of these hideous manifestations, a
fiddle was going in the room above, and some heavy fellow was
perpetrating a hornpipe, after which, apparently, thirty couple
commenced a reel. Gracious heavens ! 1 was beneath a dancing
school ! Could mortal bear this. I thought my brain would
have turned; I found that this rebellious assembly would not
be dissolved till 11 o'clock; I could walk out of doors no more,
I paced the room, I paused, I sat, I walked again, despair had
seized me with an iron grasp; each moment increased ray irri-
tation, and in a moment of rage, I fell, fortunately, on the sofa.
I suppose I must have slept, for, when I recovered my scattered
senses, all around me was still ; the fire had ceased to burn, and
an unpleasant savour of tallow told me that the candle had been
burnt out in the socket ; my limbs were benumbed with tiie cold ;
and the grey haze of morning, which then began to peer in at the
window, discovered to me the savoury viands of an untasted
supper, cold and cheerless. What was to be done? I felt no
inclination to retire to bed, and had I, the dawn ofdciy would
have forbidden it. The lapse of time, -between day-break and
breakfast-time, gave me ample opportunity to perceive the mis-
cries of my present situation, and the dreams of delight, which I
had fondly cherished, vd the prospects of a termination of my
woes, disappeared like a mountain mist, and disclosed the piti-
able, the unbearable reality.

Tuesday morning: — A heavy gloom hung over my forehead
this morning, insomuch that my loquacious landlady, with her
usual pertinacity, was more than usually anxious in her in-
quiries as to the cause, which, however, must have been but too
apparent. I answered all her interrogatories with a simple nod,
which, instead of answering the desired end, only increased the
torrent of her garrulity ; and at length compelled me as a last
resource to adjourn to my sanctum. Here, with an agitated
mind, and empty stomach, 1 ruminated on the past, and resolved
on the future; which resolve was, to leave the house instanter,
and take up my abode elsewhere ; and, in spite of the intreaties
of my landlady, and the aceming commons of the situation, the
lapse of an hour found me in a snug cabriolet, steering for a
retired village, about 4 miles from town ; consisting of, at most,
half a-dozen house?;, and icithout a school.

THE MISERIES OF A TENDER-EARED MAN. 141

A most satisfactory and gratifying feeling pervaded me as I
alighted from my vehicle, at the neat gateway of a still neater
cottage, which was situated at the end of a pleasant parterre, and
at the distance of a gun-shot from the road, the view of which
w^as prettily diversified by a neat iron railing which surrounded
it. A sign, hanging at the garden gate, informed me that a snug
apartment was vacant within. I eagerly sought it, and, within a
quarter of an hour, had comfortably settled myself in an easy
chair, which graced the apartment, sole (temporary) monarch of
all I surveyed.

Night came. What a luxury to sleep without the pale of the
din of a disturbed and disturbing town. It is indeed no wonder
that the poets speak in such high terms of the delights of a rural
retreat.

I retired to bed, sought, and found the true luxury of a pillow.
I slept soundly for iibout an hour, but was awoke by a smart
gust of wicd whicl) licwled and leaped amongst the boughs of
some vaneruble ebiis which surrounded my cottage; the clatter
of hail and rain against the windov/ told me that a sudden change
had taken place in the weather, and gave me to understand that
I should pass any thing but a pleasant night. I lay awake some
time, in hopes that the rain and wind w^ould cease, but, to my
utter discomfiture, the depths of night only increased their vio-
lence; and, notwithstanding the continued roar, I congratulated
myself on being so snugly lioused ; transitory gratification ! by a
sudden change in the direction of the wind, my window had to
bear the whole burst of the torrent and blast. The sashes shook
most mournfully in their frames, forbidding all attempts to sleep.
I however somew^hat lessened the noise by the insertion of my
pen-knife and tooth-brush, between the parts in opposition and
conjunction. I deposited myself again between the sheets, but,
alas ! a more direful disturbance awnited me ; — attached to the
gate, at the extremity of the garden, was a bell of no small
dimensions, affixed to give notice of any entrances or exits; and,
by some accident or intent, my landlady had omitted to fasten
the door at night, perhaps owing to the reason that time had
removed all the fastenings, and, at intervals of about half a minute,
the neigiibourhood rung with clashiugs of the door, with the
doleful accompanyment of repeated ringings of the bell, which
the wind was swaying about in most playful style. It was certain
that this sound must be put a stop to; but, then, a distance of
about 25 yards of garden intervened *twixt the house and garden

142 THE MISERIES OF A TENDER-EARED MAN.

door, and the storm seemed to bid defiance to any attempt of that
nature. Certain it was that, with such a noise, sleep I should
get none; and, as a last resource, I determined to clothe myself
and ''silence that dreadful bell" at least.

I descended : such a night ! the cold was intense; and, spite
of my great caution, having, in addition to my own habiliments,
enveloped myself in a pair of Whitney blankets, Esquimaux-like,
I got wet to the skin ; however, I secured the door and bell, by
tying fast the one, and purloining the clapper of the other, and
returned hurriedly to my chamber, where I was not very long in
securing a retreat within my former resting place. Scarcely had
the cheering warmth of the bed made amends to me for the task
I had so satisfactorily completed, and the discomfiture which it
had occasioned me, and the sweet slumbers of repose brushed
the sad recollections of disquiet from my brain, than I was salu-
ted by a still more doleful noise; my heart sickened at the sound,
for I had innocently been the main instigator of it, the cause was
as follows, the effect may be easily anticipated. On my return
to my apartment, having put a palliative on the garden gate and
bell, as I entered the house, the great dog, to whose surveillance
the nightly guardianship of the premises was intrusted, ran, unper-
ceived by me, into the garden, and I, with the greatest care, had
unheedingly, bolted him out; the result was, as might be expect-
ed, when I had contrived to get comfortably warm, after no small
time, tliis most tormenting brute set up such a horrible yelling
and howling that a cold sweat burst out at every pore of my
agonized frame ; I sprang out of bed in a paroxysm of fury,
raised the sash with a maniac's energy, and bellowed on the
offending culprit to the utmost extent my lungs would admit of;
away went tooth-brush and pen-knife; and, instead of frightening
the animal, it served to increase the uproar ten-fold, as a number
of yelping curs in the neigbourhood joined in the concert with
such determined and unending zeal, that to sleep was impossible,
and, for the remainder of the night, I lay in a much more un-
comfortable position than ever yet did a heretic, whilst the bro-
thers of the Holy Inquisition were sending him to another world
through the instrumentality of the rack.

G. P. H.

W6
A BRIDAL DIRGE.

May no sunny smile to-day

O'er the fond cheek flush.
May no merry minstrel lay

Hail the young dawn's gush.

Let the white-robed singers' tone,

Dirge like, breathe of fears.
Let the harp-notes — one by one —

Sound like falling tears.

Still ye weave the hymn of Pleasure;

Still would fain rejoice ?
Meeter far than such light measure

Were a mourning voice.

When the cold world's gloom hath shaded

Her dark eye's soft light :
When that faiiy form hath faded

Under stern cares' blight :

When pale Thought with marble finger

Chills that glowing brow,
Where we see so fondly linger

Love's bright radiance now :

Will memory, wandering o'er the past,

Bring back, with magic mild —
As now she stands in maiden grace —

A vision of that child.

Her blithesome tone — her step of air —

Her pure and trusting thought —
Her even-song that mocked at care —

Her look with fondness fraught :

All these will crowd upon the brain,

Like phantoms round our sleep,
Till, musing on lost loveliness,

We may not choose, but weep.

Then raise no mirth for one who leaves,

The dreams of Love and Youth,
To struggle through life's rugged way—

To prove its dreary truth.

FllANZ,

144

LIGHTHOUSES.

On Saturday, the 18th of April, the chairman and
members of the Committee of the House of Com-
mons, on Lighthouses, inspected, at the Trinity-
House, the results of the experiments made by Mr.
Gurney, at their request, since last session, for pro-
ducing artificial hght for beacons. It appeared that
Mr. Gurney had not only removed the difficulties
hitherto connected with the oxy-hydrogen lime-
lights, discovered by him in 1816, and reported by
the Lighthouse Committee, in 1823 ; but he has
discovered another light, of considerable beauty,
simplicity, and intensity, of 140 times greater power
than the present standard lights; this, in compli-
ment to the discoverer, has been termed the Bude
light, from his place of residence. The more intense
light, however, it appeared, was obtained from egg-
shells ; for this was found on measurement, to be
293 times greater than the argand burner now em-
ployed. The radiated light from it was made to
light a candle and ignite paper, at the distance of
forty-five feet. Mr. Gurney stated his belief, that
it would be possible to make this light, by certain
management, point out the precise situation of a
coast-beacon to a ship three or four miles at sea,
under circumstances of a fog so dense, that no other
light, not even that of the sun, could penetrate it to
any distance.

PRINTED BY G. P. HEARDER, PLYMOUTH.

"^ APR 22

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, OCTOBER 1st, 1835.

No. 34.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

THE

SOUTH DEVON AND EAST CORNWALL
HOSPITAL,

AND

PLYMOUTH PUBLIC DISPENSARY.

We this month present our readers with a view of
the Hospital and Dispensary, now erecting in Sussex
Place, Notte Street, Plymouth. The construction
of the central part alone, is in the first instance con-
templated, with the hope, that, ere long, the means
for adding the wing compartments will not be want-
ing. With this addition in view, as a matter of
certainty, the main building has been designed, but
it has still been the architect's care to make the
latter as perfect in itself as possible, so that during
the postponement of subsequent provision, present
purposes may be sufficiently answered.

Before we describe the details of the design, it
may be expected that we should give an outline of
the origin and progress of the Institution, which we
shall beg to transcribe from the appendix to the
Rev. S. Rowe's sermon, preached on the occasion of
laying the foundation stone, and since printed at
the request of the governors and subscribers in aid
of the funds.

VOL. VI. — 1830. T

146 SOUTH DEVON AND EAST

The Public Dispensary, founded in the year 1798,
may justly be considered as the parent of the South
Devon and East Cornwall Hospital, since the ex-
perience of its advantages has long directed the
attention of many of its friends to the desirableness
of adding to its usefulness by uniting it with a Hos-
pital for the reception of in-patients, and of extend-
ing the important benefits of such an institution to
that portion of the two counties, of which Plymouth
forms the centre ; since within a radius of twenty
miles is contained a population of above 200,000
persons, having no similar institution nearer than
Exeter Hospital on the east, the Truro Infirmary on
the west, and that of Barnstaple on the north.

Subscriptions for erecting a suitable building have
been received from many affluent and humane indi-
viduals throughout the neighbourhood; and the
Committee are proceeding with the central portion
of the structure in the full confidence that the further
sums requisite for its completion will be supplied by
public benevolence, and that they will be enabled to
open the Hospital with accommodation calculated
for the reception of not fewer than 40 patients.

The affairs of the Dispensary will be carried on
in the new Hospital, while the income from the
accumulated funds of the former will be kept entirely
distinct, and the annual contributions thereto so
carefully arranged, that subscribers to the original
institution will have the satisfaction of knowing that
its interests instead of being prejudiced, will be ma-
terially advanced by the union of the two establish-
ments.

It was by adopting a like prudent and gradual
mode of procedure, that the Dispensary was success-
fully established. When first formed, its apartments
were in the Mayoralty house ; and subsequently,
after some years occupation of a hired house in How
Street, the Governors were enabled to erect the
present building in Catherine Street, by the aid of a
munificent bequest of £1,000 from the late Charles
Yonge, Esq.

^ CORNWALL HOSPITAL. 147

The immediate and collateral advantages arising
from such an institution, under the conduct of a
medical staff, whose professional talents and bene-
volent attention to the sick poor have long been
experienced and appreciated, cannot be better ex-
pressed than in the words of its indefatigable promoter
and zealous advocate the benevolent Vicar of St.
Andrew's, in his speech on the occasion of laying
the foundation stone of the building, " I cannot but
regard this as a most happy event, contemplating as
I do the great benefits which will result to the junior
members of the medical profession, whose advance-
ment in every branch of the healing art, cannot but
be greatly promoted by the establishment of this
Hospital. Herein too, I trust, both temporal and
spiritual health will, under the Divine blessing, be
granted to the sick, happiness to the families of those
who may be received within its walls, delight to the
rich, and a bond of union between both rich and
poor which will be highly satisfactory to all classes
of the communit^^''

The main Building will include an entrance hall
and waiting room, wdth a dispensary and committee
room (the latter also for the use of the physicians) ;
surgeon's room ; a ward on the ground floor ; a
theatre for operations and lectures ; offices and rooms
for the matron and porter in the basement ; wards
for forty beds in the two upper floors, on each of
which will be a nurse's room, bath room, and other
conveniences ; and a spacious staircase with flights
of stone steps and landings from bottom to top.
Attached to the entrance in the north front will be
a portico, having such altitude and projection as to
admit of a full sized carriage beneath it. Care has
been taken to insure every facility for the supply of
water, and the closest attention has been given to
the important subj ect of drainao e. The architectural
character of the design is indicated in our perspective
view, which exhibits, perhaps, as much decoration
as the purpose of the building admits, and certainly
a@ much as the funds of the institution allow.

148 SOUTH DEVON AND EAST ,

The contemplated wings would double the capacity
of the building as to beds, and supply many added
conveniences on the basement level — they would be
erected at a comparatively small expense. Contracts
for the execution of the building have been entered
into by Messrs. Chown, Burgoyne, and Marshall, the
estimated cost of the central part being about £2,200.
The ceremony of laying the foundation stone, was
preceded by a morning service at St. Andrew's
church, and an appropriate sermon, already referred
to as having been preached by the Rev. S. Rowe,
perpetual curate of Stonehouse, and whose pious
eloquence was never more fervently nor more effec-
tively displayed than on this most interesting occa-
sion.

On a brass plate, embedded in the footing of the
N. E. corner of the building, is the following inscrip-
tion : —

THE FOUNDATION STONE

OF THE

SOUTH DEVON AND EAST CORNWALL HOSPITAL,

AND

PLYMOUTH PUBLIC DISPENSARY,

Was laid on the 6th day of August, 1835,

By thb Rbv. John Hatchard, m. a.

At the request and in the presence of the

Committee and Subscribers,

In grateful ackno\vledgement of the Divine favour through which

they have been enabled to begin

THE BUILDING,

And in humble reliance upon the blessing of God on their

endeavours to carry the charitable objects of the

Institution, thus commenced, into full ettect.

George Wightwick, Architect.

We extract the following from the Rev. S. Rowe's
eloquent discourse on the occasion. —

Amidst all the wars and fightings which pollute
the annals of the world, there are instances in which
humanity triumphs over the fiend-like propensities of
unrenewed man and vindicates the scripture truth
that God hath made of *' one blood all nations of
men to dwell on all the face of the earth." (Acts,
xvii., 26.) But since the publication of the new com-
mandment,— the promulgation of the royal law, sym-
pathy with the distresses, and compassion for the

CORNWALL HOSPITAL. 149

wants of mankind have sprung from a different
source. Christians are taught to feel for one another
as children of the same heavenly Father — as members
of him of whom the whole family in heaven is named.
(Eph., iii., 15.) Since that memorable period, indi-
vidual charity has taken a wider range ; that which
never could have been accomplished by the most
zealous efforts of one, has been wisely undertaken
and successfully achieved by the combination of
many J in labours of love, too arduous for the powers
of single-handed benevolence. The truth and divine
origin of the Christian dispensation, was established
by miracles of mercy and loving kindness, and by
those of healing more frequently than by any other.
The first apostles of Christianity received a com-
mission to heal the sick as well as to preach the
gospel ; and when the working of miracles was no
longer necessary for the establishment of the faith of
Christ and of God, the holy principle of Christian
sympathy was still exercised in attempts to soothe
the sorrows and to relieve the distresses of mankind.
Hospitals and similar institutions for the relief of the
sick, honorably distinguish the Christian sera in the
history of the world. Nothing of the kind belongs
to heathenism, and the first notice of any such insti-
tution throughout the vast Roman empire, occurs
not till after the doctrines of Christ,~the creed of
compassion, had been preached from the Indus to
the Atlantic, from the islands of Britain to the girdle
of the globe.

Wherever the Roman planted his conquering
eagle, he left traces of the greatness, the power, and
magnificence of the imperial nation. Their capital
still remains a city of wonders. Gorgeous buildings
for savage sports, prove that no cost was spared to
destroy men's lives. The Flavian Amphitheatre still
rears its colossal arcades, and outlives the wars and
the wasting of 1800 years. Temples, palaces,
bridges, and aqueducts, still attest the enterprise
and splendour of that victorious people. But amidst

46b SOUTH DEVON AND EAST

the ruins of Rome, and the excavations of Pompeii,
where shall we find the remains of one building
raised as a refuge for wretchedness and want, a
retreat for misfortune or misery, an asylum for the
sick, the maniac, or the fatherless ? — No provision
for the poor and needy and him that had no helper,
no hospital where the friendless and outcast could
find the hand of skill ready to allay the fever's burn-
ing thirst, — to apply the healing balm to the wounded
flesh, — to clear the eye from its filmy curtain, or to
unlock the avenues of hearing, and admit once more
to the closed porches of the ear the grateful vibra-
tions of sound. None of these structures were found
in the street of the most opulent, the most polished,
the most distinguished cities of antiquity — habita-
tions of cruelty they had in abundance, but not one
Bethesda, not one house of mercy, established in the
spirit of his religion who came "not to destroy
men's lives but to save them." (Luke, ix., 56,)

In some portion of that divine spirit we humbly
hope that the South Devon and East Cornwall
Hospital has been undertaken, in happy and well-
deviled union with its honored and long valued ])re-
decessor the Plymouth Public Dispensary. In such
circumstances and on such an occasion, the preacher
feels that not a few of the difficulties arising from
the importance of the office assigned to him, are re-
moved by the nature of the object which he is called
upon to commend to your hearts and hands as men
and Christians. The liberality already shown by so
many is a sufficient pledge that they will not be
wanting to aid the progress of that work, which their
munificence has enabled the directors to begin. Nor
will others fail to follow their worthy example, ac-
cording to the ability which God giveth. Your
preacher can have no difficulty in commending such
an institution as the present to your Christian su])-
port. It contemplates no disputed object. Com-
pelled as we may feel ourselves to differ in opinion
on some other occasions, from those whom we esteem,

CORNWALL HOSPITAL. 151

in this there is no disagreement. It contemplates
no distant object. It is an institution at our own
doors, for the benefit of our own poor, and is calcu-
lated to confer lasting honors on our towns and
neighbourhood. It has no questionable object.
The testimony of the usefulness, the propriety and
the necessity of such institutions as a Hospital and
Dispensary is to be found in every man's own breast.
To such an institution the declaration of our divine
Master must have an especial application — " It is
more blessed to give than to receive." Lives there
a man who hath not felt or witnessed the effects of
sin in the diseases of the body, as well as in the
maladies of the soul? Even where all the means of
easing our pains which wealth can command and
affection can provide, are ours, a sick bed must be
still a sore trial. Is there none present who can
speak the language of experience in this matter ? —
Are there not many ? Forget not, then, what sick-
ness is at the best, you who are blest with this world's
goods to procure every alleviation of your ailments
— with sympathising friends to anticipate every want
or wish — with the hand of duteous attention ready
to smooth your uneasy pillow ; with the eye of un-
wearied affection to watch your troubled and fitful
slumbers through the livelong night. On the soft-
est bed have you not complained with Job — " Weari-
some nights are appointed unto me." When you
have lain down have you not been full of tossings
to and fro, crying, " When shall I arise and the night
be gone ? " and, when morning has dawned, have
you not exclaimed, " Would to God it were evening?"
(Job, vii., 4.) And if this be a true picture of a sick
chamber, alleviated by all the means and appliances
which this world can afford, what must be the situa-
tion of those who, in addition to the pangs of sickness,
feel the pressure of want ? who, but for the interpo-
sition of Christian charity and institutions like the
present, would perhaps linger out a life of pain, or
perish for lack of that relief which such institutions,

152 SOUTH DEVON HOSPITAL.

under God's blessing, are known to impart. Surely
it is more blessed to give to the support of such
charities, than to receive large supplies to our store,
without the heart "to do good and to communicate.''
(Heb., xiii., 16.) Would that such, if such there be,
who refuse their aid to suffering humanity, would
only sometimes visit the abodes of poverty and sick-
ness so thickly scattered around. Let them turn
from their well appointed and spacious dwelhngs to
the squalid and crowded abodes of the poor and
miserable. Look at yon uncurtained, scanty, uneasy,
and ill-furnished bed ! There lies one with all the
pains to which you may have been subject, perhaps
with more and greater, but without the means of
alleviation which you possess. Remove that suf-
ferer, in imagination, to one of the airy, comfortable,
well-supplied wards of your future hospital ; remem-
ber, that there all which human skill can effect, will
be done for him ; — reflect, that you have contributed
to providing him with skill, medicines, care, and
attendance, such as his means never could have pro-
cured. Think of the advantage to the poor, to have
secured for them the well known talents of the medi-
cal profession in these towns, — " You know the
men and their communication," and see then, whether
you will not realize the fulness of our Lord's declar-
ation— " It is more blessed to give than to receive."

153
HOW VERY EXTRAORDINARY!

A VENETIAN INCIDENT.

" We have no rainbows now-a-days that will stay a quarter of an hour to
be looked at." — Goethe.

[During our stay at Geneva I was induced to enter the shop of
a broker, to inquire the price of a small picture which hung
temptingly in his door-way. The subject represented was an
elegantly-formed youth, dressed in the Italian costume, in the act
of rising from his seat, and looking upon two other young men
who were standing beside him. The expression of the former
appeared to have been the chief attempt of the artist. Stupor,
vexation, surprise, and drollery, were all mingled; and upon
inquiring of the picture-dealer whether he knew the history of
the painting, he replied ; ** You are not the first by many who
have asked the same question; I esteem that picture so much,
that the price I have put upon it has deterred several connoisseurs
from purchasing it. The legend attached to it you will find
written on this scroll of parchment. Take it to your hotel, and
when you have perused it, return it to me." Thanking him for
the offer, I hastened home, and read the following story. —
T)ykes TravelUng Mems.^

A merrier man than Baptisto Biondetto, the barber, dwelt not
in all Venice. 'T was said, but we vouch not for the facts, nor
do they matter to our history, that he had Moorish blood in his
veins ; that his grandfather had emigrated from Granada, and
that his mother was my lady's lady to the beautiful Donna
Teresa Campacino, of Truxillo. Without staying to elucidate
these important matters, we proceed on our path. The barber
was young, handsome, and poor. His '^ right merrie conceits "
were sought after, not only by persons in his own sphere of life,
but also by the young wits of higher grades in Venice; and con-
sequently, in spite of numerous douceurs from his more wealthy
patrons, his pockets were more frequently empty than overflowing
with abundance. ^

The night was chill ; the ponderous ]3ell of St. Mark's cathe-
dral had tolled the vesper-hour long since ; and all the world in
Venice was lounging in the place, except Baptisto, who, seated
before a small but sparkling fire, was ruminating on the best
means of raising a few ducats to defray the night's expenses.
Fob after fob had he drawn out — all were empty ; and even the
ready-witted barber was in despair, seeing that old Grimaldi had
refused to give him credit for another scudo. " Heigho ! " sighed
he, drawing a face so long that even his favorite cat, Signora
VOL. VI. — 1835. V

154 HOW VERY EXTRAORDINARY !

Garcia, as he called her, mewed with affright. " Heigho ! "
another sigh from Baptisto; a louder mew from the Garcia.
Our veritable history affirmeth that there was yet a third sigh,
and one other mew ; and that then the barber sank into a reverie,
long, interesting, and profound. How long this fit of musing-
melancholy lasted, we cannot, for certes, tell. Some chroniclers
say an hour and twenty-three minutes ; others contend that it
continued but three-quarters of an hour.

Biondetto's speculations were interrupted by a rap, rap, rap, at
his chamber door. He started ; for he had fastened the street
entrance; and how any person could have gained admittance
was beyond his powers of conception. However, there certainly
was a treble knock ; ay, and even before his bewildered senses
had rallied, the door opened, and, to his horror, a familiar of the
** Council of Three" passed the threshold.

Our limits will not permit us to descant upon the inquisitorial
system of government, which ravaged the whole of Catholic
Christendom at the period of which we write. If the reader
wishes to become acquainted with that branch of it which rendered
this city of merchant-princes a curse and a by-word, we point
out Cooper's tale of " The Bravo," as giving an excellent idea of
its intricate and cruel machinery.

When the barber beheld his unwelcome visitor, the ruddy red
that denoted his Afric descent left his visage, and he stood pale
and trembling before the familiar. It was not sufficient that he
felt himself innocent of crime ; to be suspected was as dangerous
to his life and happiness.

"Baptisto Biondetto, thy presence is required elsewhere!'*
exclaimed the messenger, in a tone of fierce authority; " follow
me."

" My dear sir, you are surely mistaken in your man," replied
poor Baptisto ; " I — I have no doubt but that you wanted my
next-door neighbour, worthy Doctor Galleni : allow me to show
you to his residence .'*

" Biondetto, no trifling ! — follow ! "

And sure enough, the unlucky barber was obliged to tread in
the familiar's footsteps, with the best grace he could assume ;
not forgetting, however, once more to express his fear lest his
worthif companion should have erred in his errand, by disturbing
a wrong domicile. Issuing from the house, the stranger led the
way down a flight of steps leading to the canal ; and entering a
gondola, motioned to the perruquier to follow.

HOW VERY EXTRAORDINARY ! 155

" My honored friend — my dear sir — you are very good, very
polite, I might say ; but there is a freshness in the breeze that
disagrees with a slight cough that I have the misfortune to possess
— ahem ! ahem ! and if your business is not of great urgency, I
beg the favor to return to my fire side : dear me ! how chill the
night feels, and /'

There is no knowing what Baptisto would have said further,
for his speech was stayed by a very significant movement of the
familiar's hand towards his dagger-belt, where the moon-beam
played upon a blade of glittering steel. The gondola shot out of
the narrow canal, on the wharf of which the barber dwelt, and
threading through a host of vessels of the same description,
gained a secluded part of the city.

" Here," said the inquisitor, '^ you must submit to have your
eyes bandaged."

" Oh ! no consequence about that,** rejoined the barber quickly,
" I am subject to the cataract; indeed, there is a legend in my
family, forbidding ."

Another movement of the messenger's hand again cut short the
sentence, and Baptisto was fain to submit to the operation. The
gondola once more sped like lightning, and after some time jutted
against a quay ; and Baptisto found himself on terra firma.

*^ How very extraordinary ! " silently ejaculated the victim, as
he found himself hurried on by the grasps of two men. " How
very terrible that a young man of my parts and immaculacy
should be dragged before the tribunal in this way ! and poor
Julietta ! heigho I " After various ambulatory movements, Bap-
tisto was forced to ascend a flight of steps, and became aware
that he had entered a building. They traversed a considerable
space, and again ascended.

" Oh, Santo Marco ! " groaned the barber, " that I should have
lived to explore the recesses of the inquisition : some foul accu-
sation put into the Lion*s Mouth, I warrant me. How very
extraordinary!" At length the conductors ofthe prisoner halted,
and Biondetto felt their holds relaxed.

" Baptisto, it is the will of the holy inquisition that you await
here awhile, and alone ; but do not dare to remove the bandage
from thy sight ! "

"But, my dear gentlemen, you forget the cataract. I question
whether total blindness may not be produced, and that would be
a dreadful thing to one whose business it is to renovate the head-
gear of half the nobles of Venice."

156

" On peril of future pains remove the kerchief until required !"
" Oh, very well, very well, to hear is to obey, as my Moorish
grandfather was wont to exclaim. The bandage shall not be
removed, if you insist upon it."

Baptisto heard the retreating footsteps of his tormentors, and
the shutting of a door : then all was silent as the grave, he was
alone.

"How very extraordinary ! " quoth. he, "to be immured in a
dungeon; and I may add, how extremely unpleasant. The
vaults, however, are not so cold as I expected to find them ; in
fact, the temperature is rather agreeable. I should like to see of
what shape the cell is, and whether they have allowed a poor
creature any thing for supper. Had I not the stiletto and the
rack in my mind's eye, I really believe I should feel hungry; at
any rate I must have one peep, if, as my grandfather used to say,
I suffer the bow-string for doing so."

The barber removed the bandage ; and lo ! instead of a dreary
dungeon, a splendid apartment, brilliantly lighted, exquisitely
furnished, and having a table on which was laid out a small but
uniqiie banquet, presented itself to his astonished gaze.

" Santo Marco, and the holy Mother of Cordova, defend me !
how very extraordinary ! but, hush, footsteps — on, bandage on !
Baptisto, what next ? " The door opened, and closed, when a
voice desired Baptisto to untie the kerchief. The barber quickly
obeyed, and found himself in the presence of an elderly man,
dressed in the patrician style of Venice.

" Signore Biondetto, you will, I trust, excuse the freedom with
which you have been treated : there were weighty reasons for
acting so towards you, which shall in time be explained. I am
about to surprise, and probably to delight you, by saying that
you are not in the inquisition, but in the palace of the Abrazzi.**

" In the p-palace of the Abrazzi, you don't say so, Excellenza !
May it please you to relate why I have that felicity ? If my
noble Signore wishes to be shaved, I regret that your messenger
did not allow me time to pack up my knick-knacks; if "

** For no such purpose have I required your presence here.
Attend."

** I do, noble Signore, most heartily."

"Then know, I have excellent fortune to communicate. My
niece, the Signora Sylvia Abrazza has, most strangely, fallen in
love with you ."

" With me — with a poor barber, Signore, oh, dear!"

HOW VERY EXTRAORDINARY ! 157

^* I candidly inform you, that I have done all in my power to
dispel the absurdity, but without success. She had pined until
near death, and I found myself compelled to consent to an intro-
duction and marriage. Since she succeeded so far, she has
recovered her usual health, and you will be introduced to her
this evening."

" My d-dear Signore, pardon the freedom, my most excellent
Excellenza, you are pleased to be merry."

"I am serious, and, although I have prejudices against the
alliance, yet my niece's happiness is the primary consideration in
my breast. Partake, Biondetto, of this repast; my attendants
will afterwards conduct you to the tiring-room, whence you will
proceed to the fair Signora."

Without awaiting a reply, the old gentleman left the room,
and Baptisto gave vent to his joy by springing nearly to the
ceiling. " How very extraordinary ! Fortunate Baptisto. Ob,
that my grandfather of Granada had lived until this blessed
night ! " Such were his exclamations, when several attendants
entered the apartment, and he began to do justice to the fare set
before him.

" Ah ! " quoth the barber, smacking his lips, *' after all there
is nothing like your wine of Cyprus. Your Falernian, and your
Xeres, and occasionally your Cogniac, are all very well in their
way; but for my part I prefer the Orientals." With sentences
like this did Baptisto amuse himself and the domestics during his
repast; and then, motioning, with an air of consequence, that he
was ready to retire, he was shown into a room in which were
several rich habiliments, and all the necessary articles of a Vene-
tian gentleman's toilette.

" Very good — very excellent, i' faith ; this doublet is of the
finest texture, and this mantle becoming. A gold chain ; just
as it should be — and now" — gazing in one of those magnificent
mirrors for which Venice was so celebrated — "and now, Signore
Baptisto Biondetto, thou lookest like thyself! "

A few promenades up and down the room, and as many
glances in the mirror, convinced him that he was not only a
good match for a Signora, but even that he was not to be des-
pised by the daughter of the Doge herself. From the tiring-
room he was led to a saloon, where every luxury served to promote
indulgence. Marbles from the chisels of Phidias and Michael
Angelo— the exquisite gems of Titian, Giorgione, and Sebastian
del Piombo, whose works were then the glory of Venice; otto-

158 HOW VERY EXTRAORDINARY !

mans, from the Sublime Porte, perfumes, from Araby and
Hindostan, lustres, blazing with naptha and asphalta — and various
other elegancies to delight the senses, lay revealed before the
astonished barber. But not long had he inspected them, before
a cabinet door opened, and the young and beautiful Signora stood
before him.

We are miserable describers of beauty ; we know what we
ourselves admire ; but this is not sufficient for the reader. We
will therefore just say, that a lovlier woman the republic could
not boast of. Her fair features were lighted up by hazel eyes of
glorious lustre, and there was a magic power, and laughing
sweetness of countenance, that made the entranced Biondetto
kneel down in homage before her. . A few short sentences on
either side made them acquainted with the feelings and sentiments
of each other. The attempted excuses of the Signora were over-
whelmed by the passionate exclamations of the barber. He
breathed into her ears sentences so full of love, that they were
surpassed only by his vows of constancy and ejaculations of joy.

" Most adorable Abrazza; light of my heart and index of
maiden excellencies ! as my Moorish ancestor would have said
— how can I sufficiently thank you for the honor you have done
me, and for the ecstacy that thrills through my bursting soul :
how can I, poor in estate, and humble in accomplishments ; how
can I make known how much I am beholden to my divine
Signora?"

" By leading me to the altar, whwe a priest awaits us," replied
the lady in a voice of sweetness.

"I fly with you, on the wings of ardour ;•• cried Baptisto,
making an effort to rise : — but a severe blow levelled him to the
earth, and he — awoke I

Instead of finding himself in the Abrazzi palace, he was still
in his own house; and his two friends, Mercutio, the comedian,
and Pauli, the maitre d'hotel at the Ostrich, were standing before
him.

"Why, Master Baptisto, wert thou in Elysium, that thy
slumbers were so sound ? we have bellowed at thee these five
minutes, and could only awake thee by bestowing a smart rap
on thine epaulette. Wilt not thou go with us to the revels? for
that purpose we visit thee."

" A plague on both your visits 1 you have spoiled the finest
fortune in Venice. Sit down — I will tell you my somnolent
adventures, and you will, I think, allow that they are very extra-
ordinary I "

159
SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN, R. N.

Contintied from page 115.

At the usual hour, all arrangements having been made, we marched to the
edge of the wood ; I was assisted by two, similar to the preceding night. We
found it was too early to quit the wood. There was a very high tree at the
border where we came to, and it was proposed that Mr. Tuthill should climb
up it, to discover what kind of country lay in our course, which he immedi-
ately did ; and, to my great satisfaction, stated it to be a beautiful plain,
without woods, river, or any thing to impede us. From the excessive height
of the tree, we had no doubt but he could extend his view several leagues.
We now proceeded, and I insisted upon their leaving me in the rear, to hop
on and struggle for myself. I felt excessively dejected, but determined not to
expose it. At first the pain I endured was terrible : however, I at length
brought my leg to the ground, and limped on with the assistance of my club.
We had not advanced above a league, when we perceived a beautiful vineyard
right in our way. They halted to try the grape, which was a most heavenly
relief to me, as I was almost knocked up. The grapes, though sour, we found
of great service, and they revived our spirits amazingly. After eating a great
many, we loaded our pockets with them. I found my knee much better ; the
gloom that hung over me was dispersing fast ; in short, I proceeded with very
good spirits, and in about an hour afterwards we providentially arrived at an
orchard ; found its apples delicious ; cleared our pockets of the grapes, and
replaced them with this most exquisite fruit. We then proceeded with great
joy ; each congratulating me on my getting on so well. Indeed I never was
more surprised than at the sudden change in my frame altogether : my knee
improving every mile I walked.

(September 3. 1807). At day-light we were much alarmed, not being able
to make out a wood ia any direction. At last, to our unspeakable delight, we
perceived at a small distance a kind of little forest, not more than three or
four acres in circumference. We repaired to it without hesitation, and found
it thick and well adapted for our reception. Having pitched upon a convenient
spot, we deposited our knapsacks, disburdened ourselves of our apples, &c.
and after refreshing ourselves with a little biscuit and sausage, together with a
dessert which we could not afford, we betook ourselves to rest. I had not
closed an eye before, since I had received the hurt; but at that moment I
had no sooner extended my weary limbs upon the ground, than I was in a
profound sleep ; nor did I awake until roused by my comrades, who were
alarmed by the voices of two men, who came to work adjacent to our
concealment. We could hear them so very distinctly, that we were of opinion
they could not be distant more than fifty paces ; their conversation was chiefly
respecting the towns of Charleville and Mezieres ; they continued their work
until sun-set. From hearing them mention those towns so repeatedly, in
addition to other parts of the conversation, we were convinced of our being
too far to the northward of our proper course. Travelling by night, frequently
extremely dark, though we had an excellent compass, it was impossible to
avoid sometimes erring a little, more especially whenever a river turned us out
of our proper direction. Those fellows being gone, which we did not regret,
as the reader may suppose, we commenced our preparations as we were accus-
tomed, and at the usual time proceeded forward, my knee rather painful and
stiff, which in a great measure gradually decreased by exercising it.

At midnight we came directly on a small town, situated in a valley, without
perceiving it until it was too late to return. As it was open, we did not
apprehend any danger, particularly at so late an hour. We however passed
through it as quick as possible, without meeting a soul until we got into the

160 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

Fauxbourg, where we met a peasant on horseback. Mr. A- — asked him the
name of the small town or village we had just passed ; he replied, Neuville.
We thanked him, and continued on our route We travelled a considerable
distance this night ; having fruit to abate our thirst, which was in general
very great ; we often experienced a scarcity of water.

(September 4, 180r). At about three, finding a convenient wood, we halted,
and refreshed ourselves with a small quantity of biscuit, &c. which, by the
bye, notwithstanding the greates economy, was getting very low; provided
some heath, small branches, grass, &c. to lie upon, the dew being very heavy
on the ground, and then went to rest. I found myself happy beyond expression,
in consequence of my knee getting better daily. At the usual hour quitted
our covert; our fruit out, not a drop of water in our possession. We moved
forward, perishing with drought, but in momentary expectation of finding
some brook or rivulet to relieve our anguish. We travelled nearly seven
hours in this horrible situation without being able to discover any water,
except in one place, a large ditch, in which llax was deposited. I had much
pain to prevent myself from drinking some of this stinking water, my thirst
was so intolerable; but my companions assuring me the consequence would
be immediate death, I proceeded without attempting to taste it. I have been
in all climates, almost in ail parts of the universe — have suttered excessive
thirst at difterent periods of my life— have drunk vinegar, salt water, and
even sucked the tarry sails on board a ship to endeavour to assuage that
calamity ; but I solemnly declare, that I never felt any thing equal to what I
Butiered during this night from thirst.

Finding no chance of getting water feasible, at least in our direct course,
we unanimously agreed to approach the first village we should discover, for
the purpose of procuring a supply from some of the inhabitants' wells. An
opportunity soon occurred, and we directed our steps with the greatest eager-
ness to this nmch desired spot ; but previously to our arrival at the village^
we descried a small orchard. My fritnd Tuthill, always on the alert, and
naturally active and expert, scaled the orchard wall in a very short time,
notwithstanding the constant barking of a dog in the orchard, and returned
with a supply of apples; they were very small, and of the wilding kind, but
they answered our purpose, and alleviated our distressed state. We passed
through one extremity of the village, got a suppl/ of what we stotxi so much
in need of, and proceeded, keeping more to the westward than we had lately
done, in consequence of the discovery respecting Charleville, &c. We now
got on apace, having plenty of water.

(September 5. 180r). Nothing particular occurred. At daylight, having
found a convenient wood, we concealed ourselves as usual, during the day— at
night, we again resumed our peregrination; and, at about 11, we arrived on
an immense broad road : imagining it led to Casttlet la Capelle, agreed to
keep it some time, as it was nearly in our direction, and the night was beau-
tiful and serene. About midnight, we were all of a sudden in a street : the
buildings large, and it had the appearance of a place of some respectability.
This discovery astonished us the more, as the place had neither rampart no»'
fortification of any description ; and hitherto we had been of opinion, that
there was no town of this magnitude in France, without being well fortified.
We perceived lights in several of the houses ; we, however, had very little
time to consider — heard men's voices in ditterent directions, dogs barking, &c.
&c. At that moment we happily observed an opening, which we instantly
made towards, and found it a bye lane, which we followed, and which
conducted us clear out of the town ; but we had several canals, mills, &c. to
pass in tl'.e suburbs, before we got into a direct track. However, we at
last sue; ec'dei, and had the felicity of congratulating each other on so fortunate

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 161

an escape ; but were entirely ignorant what town tliis could be : which made
us determined to inquire at the first house we should approach, and in a few
minutes an opportunity offered. We discovered several huts on the road side.
Mr. A. and myself advanced, leaving the others concealed, and knocking at
the door of one of the huts, a man (as "we supposed in bed) asked what we
wanted ? We answered, we were poor distressed travellers, quite hungry and
faint — would be glad to know what distance we were from the next town.
He told us not above a mile from Moncornet. We asked, if he would have
the goodness to sell or give us a little bread ? as we had travelled a long way,
and were quite weary. He, and a woman, replied, they would, if we would
call in the morning : they were determined not to open the door, so we
marched off, and joined our companions, having made the discovery we wished.
We then proceeded, anxiously wishing for day-light, that we might discover
on the map whereabout Moncornet was.

Sunday, September 6lh, 1807. At a little before day-light, having crossed
the Serre, we halted in a wood not more than three leagues from this town — •
it was very thin ; we shifted and changed many times, before we could find
any part calculated to shelter us. At last pitched upon a spot, which we made
tolerably comfortable, by breaking branches, and placing them all round us.
We were very much disappointed on inspecting our map, to find that we
were not near so far advanced as we had supposed, notwithstanding we con-
sidered ourselves to have been very fortunate. The weather was hazy with
drizzling rain, which made us uncomfortable — we managed to sleep a little*
At about two in the afternoon we were alarmed by a fowler and his pointer ;
the latter approached us very near, and as soon as he perceived us began to
bark and yell. The master came also close to us ; and kept whistling and
calling to his dog, who at this time was a great distance from him, having
retired precipitately on discovering us. The man kept on in a direct line,
in pursuit of the pointer : we perceived his legs and feet distinctly, as he
passed, but, from our position, were certain he did not see us. This person
gone, we exclaimed, we are fortunate fellows, we certainly shall get clear
off. The joy felt at this haii'-breadth escape, can only be conceived by people
who have been in a similar situation. At the usual hour we quitted this place,
and had the happiness to find some apple trees, just ouside the wood, were
stocked with very excellent fruit. I need not observe, that we filled our
pockets and knapsacks with them. What little biscuit wo had now remaining,
was literally crumbled to dust; which made this supply more welcome. It
was excessively dark all this night, and we received a vast number of falls.
Lieutenant Essel was now getting very much fatigued, and could not keep up.
We apprehended, from the great alteration in his appearance, the two or
three last days, that he would be obliged to halt on the way : howevei*, we
resolved to continue with him as long as it appeared prudent. We crossed
the Oise this night, in two different places. This river is very serpentine, and
is divided into several branches. Our comrade, Essel, • getting worse, we
halted early in a very commodious wood.

Monday, September 7th, 1807. We surveyed our stock of provisions, and
found it truly miserable ; not having a pound of biscuit, or dust, and not so
much sausage. What to do in this critical situation, we were very much at
a loss to know. It was evident that we could not exist long without pro-
visions ; consequently our plan of keeping away from houses, &c. coidd not be
adhered to much longer : it remained, therefore, to be considered, which was
the best method of acting. After a long discussion, we concluded that Messrs.

Su— ell and A , being the most meagre looking amongst us, and of course

the most like Frenchmen, should endeavour to procure some bread, &c. at the
first retired lonely habitation we should see early in the night ; fearing, if we

VOL. VI.— 1835. W

162 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

waited for a late hour, that our reception might be equally inhospitable with
that in the vicinity of Moncornet. All matters being thus settled, away we
marched. At about 9, we perceived a house that appeared to answer the
description required, directly in our course. The two Frenchified gentlemen
advanced to try their luck ; Lieutenant Essel and myself remained seated
close to a thick-set hedge. We continued in that position some time, waiting
the result of our friends' embassy — my poor companion complaining grievously
of the alteration in his health : finding they were not returning, we imagined
that, perhaps, they had met with a good reception, and were enjoying them-
selves ; we agreed, as this house was directly in our way, to pass by carelessly.
Accordingly walked on. Just as we passed the doer, they made their appear-
ance, with a young man dressed like a peasant. They joined, and informed
us, they could procure no relief at this house ; but that there was a small
village within a few hundred yards of us, and this young man was going to
8how them a public house in it, where they could gel supplie<l with every
thing. I declare I was of opinion, that this was a great deal too kind on his
part ; advised them, therefore, to send this guide back, as we certainly could
find the house without his assistance : he insisted upon conducting us— inquired
if we were also of the party, and presently the village appeared — very small
— at which I rejoiced greatly. Numbers of people were moving about, and
our guide informed us, it was a fete day. The public house appeared ; the
young man pointed to it, saying, you may enter without fear, and quitted us.
I did not like this last obsei'vation ; however, we were by this time on the
threshold— a number of people in the door- way — no alternative — so in we
went. The house was crowded with both sexes, dancing and amusing them-
selves. The dancing ceased immediately after we entered ; every eye was
fixed upon us. We called for a place where we could sit and refresh our-
selves, and were shewn into a room. We asked for some bread, cheese, and
wine, got it, and ate heartily, although we could not boast of much comfort.
Several of the peasants and their wives came and seated themselves close to
our table, pressing us to take some of their gateaux; from our appearance,
caps, knapsacks, &c. we saw they took us for conscripts, going to the army.
We told them we were going to Guise, and were obliged to travel day and
night, in consequence of our regiment being ordered away, and our remaining
at home too long. Called for our bill, and desired them to bring us a large
loaf of bread, and a bottle of brandy, as we might want them before our
arrival at the before-mentioned town. This done, they all wished us success,
and we parted. My God ! how delightful did the fields (when clear of this
village) appear to us once more ! We now proceeded, amusing ourselves with
the conversation we had with the old farmers and their wives — the different
sensations each of us had at the time, &c. Poor Essel complained greatly of
fatigue and weakness ; and my knee affected me a little every night, when we
commenced our route, but soon wore off. At day-light we stopped at a wood
joining a farm house, on the banks of the Oise.

Tuesday, September 8., 1807. We commenced our march about seven in
the evening, after being greatly alarmed by a genteel dressed woman and two
children, who had passed ; a servant before her shaking the brambles, and
knocking the wet off the trees ; they were so close as to touch the very bush
that covered us. About half past eight we crossed the Oise in two places ;
again being obliged to pass through a small village, to get to the bridge that
led over.

Wednesday, September 9. At day-light, after a tedious march, having
traversed a number of deep-ploughed and stubble fields, crossing hills and
vales, we found ourselves in the open fields ; poor Essel scarcely able to move.
This was the worst situation we had been placed in since we began our

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 163

journey. On surveying with the utmost attention all around, we thought we
had descried trees at a considerable distance, and out of our course. We
nevertheless made towards them. It commenced raining very fast, and when
we had reached the much-desired spot, it proved to be only a thin orchard,
with a few scattered apple-trees. We still kept walking on, being well
assured there was no shelter for us in our rear, at least close at hand. We
soon discovered a small village in the very direction we were going, and
near it appeared a small wood. We advanced tolerably fast ; poor Essel a
great way behind. Met an old peasant ; enquired the name of the village
(Petit Essigny). He told us there was a path-way on the right of it, if we
wished to avoid passing through. We were, he said, five leagues from St.
Quentin. This old man's remarks appeared to us very singular : he took his
leave, and we parted. Raining incessantly, and the morning advancing, now
nearly eight o'clock. What we imagined to be a wood, adjacent to the village,
proved upon approaching to be only a few shrubs. Arrived at these shrubs,
we found they were pretty thick, and the grass very high, surrounded by a
quick-set hedge. We instantly got through the hedge, and lay close down.
Our situation was very unpleasant ; the grass excessively wet, added to our
having been wet nearly to the skin before we entered it. The rain coming
literally upon our poor bodies in sluices off the bushes ; poor Essel hardly
able to move or speak. However, this was preferable, we thought, to running
the risk of going into the village, where we suspected that gens d'armes might
be lurking, being so near a large town.

To he continv£d.

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

Continued from page 80.

In a little bit after the end, it may not be amiss to give the
information received from Mr. Crumplehorn, touching the exit
of Mrs. Provolvus; and a little will suffice.

This good woman, feeling herself daily growing too weak for
the continuation of her business, was prevailed upon by a female
friend of old acquaintaneeship, to dispose of her stock in trade
and other property, and live upon the proceeds of the sale.
These she must have known were abundant — too much so for
any wants which either her years or her infirmities could require.
Becoming therefore an easy convert to her friend's persuasive
creed, she hastened her removal. It was however of short du-
ration ; for severe indisposition soon closed her useful career, and
put her sagacious friend into easy and full possession of all her
property !

At this recital I felt much uneasiness — not from any personal
disappointment in the loss of some treasured 6/flc/c-/e^<er promised
me, and which, to her, had been dead letter from the period of
the demise of its proprietor ; but from an acute feeling of s\ir-

164 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

prize, that a mere acquaintance should suddenly " pop in," and
enjoy, what, in the fairest equity, ought to have been the undis-
puted right of the family, while the most distant member there-
of remained.

In this opinion my old friend acquiesced, for he had had a very
narrow escape from an accident not dissimilar, as in due co'irse will
appear. We therefore joined in the contempt of that system of
"catch what you can, and hold fast what you catch," without pre-
viously calling in the aid of conscience ; as well as in the strange
perverseness of age, that sometimes suffers right to succumb to
whim, and allow a stranger to shake his or her tantalizing sides
at the fair claim ov feeling clamour of disappointed consanguinity.

But so it is, and so it must fall, if" what is to be is to be,'' as
grandames have it; although it is doubtful whether — themselves
sufferers — they would allow the philosophy of "whatever is
is right." But enough of this division of my subject. A. final
end may be put to one old original^ to make room for another in
the person of

Mr. Crumplehorn.

My friend was of a good family, brought up after the old yeo-
manry fashion, and well imbued in old yeomanry pride, that of not
only being well off, but well-conditioned, and having as much
game as would enable Aiw to meet any other he without fear, though,
as not to be expected, at all times with success. He liked a rig,
but was not always satisfied with his likings, as victory did not
invariably bind the laurel with ease on his brow. He was a pet
too with his mother, and a favourite with some of the prettiest
girls in the parish; and to hear himself^ talked of by these he
would finish a day's labour, of itself enough to make a town-
built creature seek a holiday to feel his pains, and another to re-
move them — and then brush for an evening's sport, as it was
termed, which would subject him to as much exertion as two of
his days of toil, and more punishment than would follow from
three hundred and sixty-five, unless per accident. But it was
sport, and being voluntarily joined in, passed off as a matter of
course.

" I was a man," he would say, "of all work." I showed the
toe, handled the stick, and have beaten and been beaten in both;
but with the fist I was never conquered. So much the worse,'*
he continued ; " when we are fools we cannot see ourselves, or
will not, which is as bad. Every one would say, * Tim is game,'
and many, my own family not excepted, would make a reckon-

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 165

ing for me to settle : and why ? only because they knew, Tim was
game, and perhaps also knew that he was foolish enough to listen
to them ; while the lasses themselves would join in the cry, and
appear to love me for being the cause of it. But twenty years
have made some change, and if in one way the worse, in another
I hope t lie better. Ah! 'tis vanity all, depend upon it," said
Mr. Crumplehorn, sipping his cider, with a shrug. " To be
sure it is," said I ; "experience is most folks' wisdom, and, from
your talk, I think your own.^- " Ha, sure enough that," re-
joined Mr. Crumplehorn, ** but what a happy thing it would be
if we could always be as we ought to 6e." "Oyes," said I,
" and yet there is a doubt, for I am afraid there w^ould then be
too many be-es for the hive ; particularly as an ancient has de-
clared, that it is good to be foolish at times.'" " Never, to be
sure," said Mr. Crumplehorn. " Yes, indeed," I remarked,
" and a very wise man too." " Ha, ha, ha," laughed Mr. Crum-
plehorn, "a wise man recommend foolishness? — well done you.''

I thought it of little use to bring forward my authority, as he
had on his side the one unerring. I was only anxious for the
continuation of his tale, so resumed the subject by asking what
followed the general preference of the village lasses, and whe-
ther it never occasioned a tinge of jealousy among the lads. " No,
never," said Mr. Crumplehorn, " we do not know what jealousy
is in the country." " Indeed, do n't we," sharply articulated
Mrs. Crumplehorn, " I believe we do." " Well, well, Peggy,''
said Mr. Crumplehorn, smiling, " I suppose I was talked of by
loo many maidens to meet the notice of any one man ; but I
cannot help fancying that I might have picked up a few with a
good heavy purse." " And yet," I remarked, " the good heavy
purse might have had a bad light proprietor." *• And that Mr.
Crumplehorn now well knows," said his concerned partner.
" Yes, very true," said Mr. Crumplehorn, " we can look back
with more certainty than we can look forward, and this makes a
body believe, if any thing be ordained, marriage is.'* " ' T is a
household sentiment," said I, "and in all matters which have
really terminated we must go beyond ordinary philosophy to
prove the contrary."

Tim was game, Tim was handsome, Tim was loved by the
pretty and the stocky, yet among them his lines were not to be
' drawn. " It was not to be/' as Mrs. Crumplehorn expressed
herself, so we may fairly presume, "it was as it should be;''
and as we now grate upon this hinge, Cupid and Hymen shall
open the door to secure an easy ingress.

166 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

" My attention was never drawn aside," said Mr. Crumple-
horn, "by the many would-be sweethearts ; but I confess, I was
proud to be noticed. When known in the village that the ob-
ject of my affection was my father's apprentice, then was a cause
assigned for my apathy. Oh ! then came the bitter essence o^
female spite and scandal. To the village and parish cry of
" shame/* I could find a remedy in a laugh or look, varied ac-
cording to the party with whom I had to deal; but to my own
family *s opposition I could hope no redress — save what opened
by patience in suffering. Here were arraigned against me, fa-
ther and mother, brothers and sisters, man -servants and maid-
servants, to all of whom, save the two former, my presence
checked harshness ; but this served, as I fancied, only to give
pause for increased invective and cruelty towards my poor maid
in my absence."

" Matters thus went on for. many months, and for many more
must have continued, had I not fortunately resolved for the fu-
ture to accompany Peggy through the village to church, on all
Sundays, and to the fairs on holidays; but more particularly to
the shippen every evening to carry home her laden milk pails.
Here arose another cause for murmur. Father would meet me
and remark, — "What, Tim, hast left work to carry deals?"
" Yes, father," I should answer, " because 't is hard dealing for
a maiden." "Tush, you beetle-head," the old man would say,
" thy mother hath done it oft and oft." " Two four-gallon pails ?''
I asked, — "Ay, two six, if necessary thee stupid,*' father
would angrily reply, and thus repeatedly closed our shippen
adventures.

" Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Crumplehorn, " nobody knows what I
suffered." " Well, well — 't is all over now," said her husband?
" so let me finish my story."

"I was afraid," continued Mr. Crumplehorn, "to take Peggy
from the house, being threatened with a visit from the authorities ;
but I have since doubted whether this would have been the case,
as our good parson took a lively interest in the matter, ancj with
many scriptural proofs convinced my father that he was wrong
in the persecution (I mind the word very well) which he was
carrying on against us. But, I knew pretty nigh the cause. In
all families their are pets. I was mother's (though not in my
choice of Peggy). Sister was father's. There it was. Sister's
ear-wigging did all the mischief. " Ah," closed Mr. Crumple-
horn, " you may depend upon it that women's hatred is more to
be dreaded than men's." "Well, I'm sure," retorted Mrs. C.

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 167

** you give us a pretty character, then/^ " A very good one,i/ou.''*
said I, " for Mr. Crumplehorn has been speaking of women's
hatred. You, I presume, have shewn him nothing but love ; so
you are exempted, without you wish to criminate yourself."
"Without I wish to do what ? Mr. ,'* said Mrs Crumple-
horn. " Do you not recollect," I answered — conscious that the
word criminate was not understood — " Mr. Crumplehorn's remark
was upon women's hatred — and have you ever shewn him hatred?^'
"I?" with quick surprise, said Mrs. C. "no, pity forbid!"
"Well, then," said Mr. C. "why do you interrupt us : you hear

what Mr. says." " I beg pardon — 't is a mistake, I suppose,

aad no harm," said the wife. " No, no, Peggy," replied the
husband. "No, no," said I, "only a mistake which a queen
might make, and with a good grace too, if so happily as you.'*
" Oh, yes," replied Mrs. C. " I 'm as happy as a queen." "Ay !
to be sure, and I as a king," said Mr. C. "Ay, to be sure, and
I as your royal guest or very loving subject." Here was, from
each, a laugh, as a tasteful finis to Mrs. C.'s notices, which
enabled her good partner to resume : —

" The time arrived when Peggy's servitude ended : this both
father and mother knew : but I charged my maid not to say a
word about it, until I had made up my own mind how to pro-
ceed on her behalf."

" Peggy had friends in town ; and my first object was to learn
their circumstances and characters. This was shortly accom-
plished ; and being therefore satisfied it would be safe to place
her under their guardianship, I made arrangement to that effect;
but without the knowledge of Peggy. My principle object in so
doing was to save her and myself the mortification of hearing it
said, that she was in the receipt of any article unless from me; for
the first thing that attracts the keen eye and the more scurrilous
tongue of country lasses is new apparel. Matters thus far settled,
my next step was to communicate to Peggy what I had done, and
to request her to announce her intentions to mother. This accom-
plished , it was only now left for me to follow, but, hastily, I
thought wrong, fancying a change might take place in father's
feelings. After an almost killing patience of three months, I
found him as unflinching as ever ; and this put the spur to my
own resolve of giving notice to quit. His reply was short, " Well
cheeld go, if thee like — but I hope thee wilt soon see thy error.' "
" I went. Youth was on my side, if youth may be termed
six and twenty. I went, sure enough, and sorrowfully enough.

168 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

I married ! Ten pounds formed the bulk of my fortune, and my
grounds consisted of one room, at a yearly rent of five pounds.
The first fortnight was a fortnight of idleness, without the annoy-
ance of a visit. To pass another such I thought wrong ; and
reflecting, that as I had long laboured for my father, I could as
agreeably, if not more so, labour for myself. There is a good
feeling among the working classes," continued Mr. Crumplehorn,
"The first I asked for a job, answered, *Yes, I 'm sure master
will employ Mr. Tim, for he wants a good hand.' I therefore
engaged myself— and so cheerful was my labour, and so quickly
flew my time, that nothing of my former better lot passed half
so agreeably, and nothing, I really think, has since equalled it."

" Thus flitted away twelve months, when, one evening, returning
much fatigued, Peggy told me that two messages had been sent
from home. 'And if twenty,* I answered, Mt matters not.'
* Oh ! Mr. C said Peggy, 'do n't say so; nothing will prosper
without love to your parents.' * Well, Peggy, you are right —
I am wrong ;* and while I was finishing my words, void of the
least desire to follow Peggy's good advice, another message
arrived. »T is a foolish thing to be obstinate. I might have
dearly paid for my folly; but the bearer of the third message
being one of my father's household with whom I was always
most friendly, I clad myself in Sunday's best, and off I went;
though I was ignorant of the cause of the errand.''

" Ah, Mr. though I did not shew my feelings to the

messenger, my heart was full and sorrowful. I saw my father's
workmen in the fields as I passed, and envied their easier labour
and better fare. Some spoke cheerfully enough. Some coolly
— and some were indifferently silent. I arrived at the house.
I knocked. The knock thrilled through me as if it had been a
voice from the tomb. I never so felt before — I shall never so
feel again ! The first person that answered the knock was my
mother, who, noticing my unwillingness to enter a home so lately
and so long familiar, burst into tears. This was too much for
me. I wept, my sisters wept — at which I wondered. What
transpired before my introduction to father, I knew not, but when
I approached the stair-head, I discovered him in his large arm
chair, also weeping, a circumstance yet more wonderful, he being
so stern a man. All, so far, was to me a mystery. I could not
bear suspence. Thinking something had gone amiss, I immedi-
ately rallied, and assured him and mother, that, as their child, I
would die to serve them, if in my power. This tended to renew

INSECTS. 169

their grief, as well as increase my concern; and I must have gone
frantic, if father, who was the first collected, had not broken the
reigning silence, and asked me what I had been doing ? His
question convinced me, that nothing was serious ; so, I told him
how I laboured, and for whom — but while in the act of giving
further particulars he put into my hand a bag and hurried from
the room. Where he went was unknown. He was seen no
more by me for the evening. I begged mother to express to
him on his return my thanks for this kindness, however trifling
the sum might prove; and, placing my hand into the bag for the
purpose of giving a shilling to the boy, I was cautioned by
mother to close it, as she had one for that purpose in her hand.
' They are guineas, Tim, they are guineas, Tim,' she whispered,
regardful of sister's pricked-up ears, * though thy father never
mentioned his intentions to me — they are guineas, Tim, hush !
and take care — hush ! and make them wise I '

" Poor soul — How I got home I knew not — No sleep that
night — But I will tell 'e more to morrow. — -And make 'e laugh. '^
Mr. Crumplehorh had told enough. The way he went, his wife
followed, and I was not far behind. Our course was a course
through the shallows of sympathy : but my thirst for the renewal
of the tale on to-morrow's eve, soon left me dry — yet I could not
help frequently saying to myself — " Poor fellow, what he must
have suffered," nor could I avoid as frequently cogitating on
Love, as a cruel (comical) thing.

To be continued.

INSECTS.

The Butterfly requires no other food than the nec-
tarious juices which are distilled from flowers, or the
saccharine substance which exudes from the leaves
of vegetables ; it will sometimes alight and suck the
sweets of ripe fruit which has been broken bv its
fall.

During the winter some insects are in the egg state ;
Nature has resorted to various means for preserving
these eggs ; some are inclosed in a silken web by

VOL. VI. — 1835. X

170 INSECTS.

the parent insect, others are covered with a coat of
hair, others are glued to the leaves of plants, so that
they may not be shaken off by the wind, nor washed
off by the rain. Some insects make incisions in the
leaves of vegetables, depositing an egg in each in-
cision ; others envelope their eggs in a soft substance
which forms the first aliment of the young ; and
others make a hole in the earth, and, having stored
it with a sufficient quantity of proper food, deposit
their eggs in it.

Many of the insects which have their wings co-
vered with scales pass the winter in the pupa or chry-
salis state ; in fact all that feed on annual plants do
so ; for, as these plants die in the autumn, and may
spring up again in the ensuing year, from seed, in
another place, the eggs deposited on them in autumn
could hardly escape destruction. Even were the
larvae or caterpillar hatched before winter, and had
the power of hybernating in that state they would
have no certainty of being in the neighbourhood of
their appropriate food the next spring. By wintering
in the pupa state, these accidents are provided against.
In many ways the chrysalides are extremely tenacious
of life. Reaumur states that he subjected some to
a degree of cold below freezing, until each chrysalis
became a solid brittle mass of ice, nevertheless they
produced the perfect insect in due time.

Most of the butterflies and moths, which come
forth in the spring or summer, perish or disappear at
the approach of winter. There are but few whose
period of life exceeds that of a year.

When the insect has quitted the exerviee of the
pupa, it has attained the last stage of its existence,
and is termed an Imago or perfect insect. After its
first exclusion it is weak, soft, and languid ; and all
its parts are covered with moisture. The wings,
instead of having the amplitude which we generally
perceive, are very small, and of a dull colour, in
which no distinct characters can be traced. These
symtoms of debility and imperfection soon vanish ,*

INSECTS. 171

the moisture evaporates from the skin ; the texture
becomes firm ; the colours appear in their perfect
beauty, and the wings expand to their full size.

Butterflies, in common with all other insects, are
furnished with antennae, which is the name given to
those long horn-like organs which arise from each
side of the head ; but to what common use, or want
of the insect kind, a provision so universal is sub-
servient, has not yet been clearly ascertained. They
have been regarded by some as organs of smell, by
others as organs of touch, but though they may be
used occasionally as organs of touch, this is neither
their general nor their primary use, for the antennae of
very great numbers never are nor can be employed
for this purpose. Lehmann considers it to be most
probable that they are the organs of a sense not
perfectly analogous to any of ours, but coming near-
est to that of hearing ; for they certainly collect
notices from the atmosphere. This unknown sense
he calls aeroscepsy.

An extraordinary instance of irritability is exhibi-
ted by the antlia (tongue, or instrument of suction)
of the butterfly. If this organ, which the insect can
roll up spirally like a watch spring, or extend in a
straight direction, be cut oft', as soon as the animal is
disclosed from the chrysalis, it will continue to roll
up or unroll itself as if still attached to the head :
and if, after having apparently ceased to move for
three or four hours, it be merely touched, it will
again begin to move and resume the same action, this
is doubtless occasioned by the peculiar structure of
the antlia, which is composed of numerous horny
rings, acted upon by muscles, more numerous, pro-
bably, than those which compose the trunk of the
elephant. The motion only ceases when the mus-
cles become dry and rigid.

The larvae of butterflies are universally known by
the name of caterpillars. The body of the caterpillar
when anatomically considered, is found composed t)f
rings whose circumference is nearly circuhir : they

172 INSECTS.

are nearly twelve in number and are membraneous.
The head of the caterpillar is attached to the first
ring by the neck. The general shape of their bodies
is cylindrical, and a few of them are transparent.
Some are quite naked, and smooth or rough, only
with granular elevations or tubercles. A consider-
able number are clothed with hairs or bristles, and
some are armed with spines stiff enough to pierce
the skin. Caterpillars are furnished with palpi or
fiselers, jaws, six little eyes on each side of the head,
and spiracles or oval openings through which they
breathe. These spiracles are ranged along each
side of the insect, and their colour is often so con-
trasted with the rest of the body, as to produce a
striking effect : this contrast is frequently rendered
more obvious by their position, as in those whose
sides are striped the spimcles are sometimes planted
in a stripe, just above one or between two stripes.

The caterpillars which produce butterflies or
moths, have either ten, eight, six or two pro-legs,
seldom indeed more, and never fewer. Of these,
with few exceptions, two are attached to the last
segment of the caterpillar's body, and the rest, when
present, to one or more of the sixth, seventh, eighth
and ninth segments, none are ever found on the
fourth, fifth, tenth or eleventh.

Some sorts of caterpillars unite in some common
work for the benefit of the community, and continue
together while their united efforts are beneficial to
them ; but when they reach a certain period of life,
they disperse and become solitary. Of this kind are
the caterpillars of a little butterfly which feeds on
the narrow-leaved plantain. The families of these,
usually amounting to a hundred, unite to form a
pyramidal silken tent, containing several apartments,
wliich is pitched over some of the plants that con-
stitute their food, and shelter them both from the
sun and rain. When they have consumed the pro-
visions which it covers, they construct a new one
over the roots of the plant, and sometimes four or

INSECTS. 173

five of these encampments may be seen within a foot
or two of each other. Against winter they weave
and erect a stonger habitation of a rounder form, not
divided by any partitions, in which they he heaped
up one upon another, each being rolled up. About
April they separate, and continue solitary till they
assume the chrysalis state.

Two sorts of caterpillars that feed on the nettle,
weave a silken shade over the part which they live
upon, and some others which feed on the hawthorn
do the same. It frequently happens in a dry sum-
mer that the hedges, for a considerable extent, may
be seen covered with these webs.

When the caterpillar of the white cabbage butter-
fly is about to assume the chrysalis state, it
commonly fixes itself against a wall, under some
projection, before undergoing its change, it is need-
ful that it should fix itself to the wall by a girth of
silk round the body, and by a fastening at the tail,
but as the ends of these slender threads would not
adhere with sufficient tenacity to stone or brick, it
previously covers the space of about an inch long
and half an inch wide, with a web of silk, to which
extensive base its fastening may be securely fixed.
This insect disposes its eggs, generally on the under
side of cabbage leaves, side by side, so as to resemble
a close column of soldiers, in consequence of which
arrangement, on hatching, those caterpillars which
proceed from the upper end, cannot disturb the
adjoining eggs.

The intensity of cold which the eggs of insects can
withstand is astonishing, for it has been found that
even after the most severe winter, their eggs have
proved equally prolific with those which have been
exposed to mild summers. In the year 1709, the
thermometer fell to one degree of Farenheit, and the
cold was so intense that its effects were fatal on
many animals and plants. Insects were, however,
([uite as numerous as usual in the spring.

174 INSECTS.

Boerhaave subjected the eggs of some butterflies
to a cold of twenty-three degrees below zero, (pro-
duced by a freezing mixture) but he found that they
were hatched, as usual, in due season, and the cat-
erpillars appeared as strong as any others. On
examining the contents of the eggs at the above low
temperature, he found that they had remained quite
liquid, whilst insects themselves were killed at four-
teen and sixteen degrees, and their members became
as hard as ice.

The caterpillar, whose life is one continued scene
of changes, often moults its skin before it attains its
full growth, and it is not merely the skin which is
renovated, for at each moult the caterpillar acquires
a new skull, new jaws, and all the exterior parts
both scaly and membraneous which compose its
upper and under lip, antennae (or horns), palpi (or
feelers), and even those crustaceous pieces within
the head, which serve as a fixed basis for a number
of muscles, spiracles, claws, sheaths of the anterior
legs, and in fact all of the exterior which is visible.
This change is effected by the insect withdrawing
itself from the old skin, which at the proper time
splits along the back. The accomplishment of this
change is a work of much time and exertion, and
apparently causes much pain. It fasts sometime
before moulting. The caterpillars of butterflies and
moths, excepting the few already mentioned, are
destitute of all means of defence, and are the prey of
birds and other small animals. Many of them feed
close to the ground or under the surface, subsisting
on the under parts and roots of plants, and for this
reason they are seldom seen and remain unknown.
Many, also, are similar in color to the leaves of the
plants on which they feed, and hence they are with
difficulty discovered by their enemies. A large
number of them are green of different shades, some-
times beautifully contrasted with other colors, but
the beautiful coloring of the caterpillar is no indi-

INSECTS. 175

cation of the color or beauty of the perfect insect as
a plain looking caterpiller will often produce a very
elegantly marked butterfly, and vice versa.

Caterpillars sometimes attach themselves by a
silken thread to the leaves of the trees, on which
they are feeding, and when disturbed will fall off,
suspending themselves in the air by this thread, in
the same manner as a spider is observed to do. They
have the power of reascending to their feeding place
by this thread, or of producing it till they reach the
ground. But sometimes they will remain suspended
till a favorable breath of air comes to waft them to
the nearest foliage.

The caterpillar of the large cabbage butterfly
scales walls, and even glass windows, without diffi-
culty ; but in the last instance, if the square upon
which the animal is crawling be examined with a
microscope, a visible track like that of a snail may
be seen. This is composed of little silken threads
which it has spun, and fixed on the glass in a zig-
zag direction, forming a rope ladder, by which it
ascends a surface which it could not otherwise
adhere to. These threads being of a gummy nature
harden in the air, and are easily attached to the
glass.

The voracity of caterpillars may be but compre-
hended by supposing a man capable of eating a
hundred pounds of roast beef, and a hundred and
fifty pounds of bread per diem.

Chrysalides, as to their general figure, may be di-
vided into two classes ; the first consists of angular
chrysalides or those which have several angular pro-
jections on different parts of the body. The second
is conical in shape, having but one angular projec-
tion ; which forms the tail. Each of these classes
presents different varieties. The surface of the
horny skin of most chrysalides is smooth, but in
some it is rough and warty. In the chrysalis are
discoverable evident traces of ten dorsal segments,
and a pretty accurate judgment of the perfect insect

] 76 INSECTS.

may sometimes be formed from the figure of its chry-
salis, which frequently takes the rude outline of the
parts of the animal which is contained within it :
but the various colors, which it is seen to assume,
appear the effect of accident, for the same species
does not always assume the same hue.

The chrysalis remains torpid for a longer or short-
er period, according to the species. It is often
tinged with a golden color, and from this circum-
stance was called chrysalis by the Greeks, and aurelia
by the Romans.

During warm and dry summers, butterflies are
much more abroad than they would otherwise be ;
consequently a greater number of eggs are laid, and
caterpillars are abundant in proportion. Vegetation
is thus rapidly and extensively destroyed, whilst
some of the modes of prevention adopted by the
gardener are totally useless. Great pains are some-
times taken to surround the steams of plants with a
circle of lime, soot, or moss, as a sort of cordon
sanitaire, to keep off the advances of caterpillars ;
the first and second appHances may have the effect
of preventing their crawling along the ground, from
other plants to those so defended, but cannot in any
wise prevent the butterfly from laying its eggs on
the plant, the eggs from being hatched, or the cater-
pillars from devouring it. Throwing lime water over
trees and plants is almost equally useless, this is
generally so sprinkled as only to wet the upper sur-
face of the leaves, whilst the caterpillars' favorite
place is the lower surface. A heavy shower of rain
will soon wash away the effects of the lime water
ablution, and the caterpillar may then, as before,
revel at its own sweet will.

The only effectual means of keeping the plants
uninjured, is to examine them often, and pick off
such caterpillars as may be discovered. This process
will occupy little more time than would be required
for administering the supposed remedies of lime,
soot, or moss.

J.

177

FOSSILS.

Continued from page 125.

When I last addressed the readers of the " Museum,"
I gave an imperfect account of the fossils of this
neighbourhood ; in which, I confined myself to the
bare enumeration and classification of facts. This
subject however, of itself, unconnected with the con-
siderations which should accompany it, is nearly
void both of interest, and utility. When I came to
direct my attention to these points, and to study the
opinions advanced by learned authors of theories of
the Earth, and when 1 came to collect and compare
the facts adduced in support of these ; I perceived
that I had involved myself in a subject of the utmost
difficulty — a subject fraught with intricacy, and
encumbered with seeming contradictions and dis-
crepancies ; a subject of which we might well observe
" Quot homines tot sententise." In presuming, there-
fore, to trust myself with enquiry in which I have
found it impracticable to form any conclusions
besides those which are self-evident ; it will be re-
quisite to advance circumspectly, and to take facts
for our guides. Philosophers, like other men, differ
vastly in their ideas ; and we may fear that, some-
times, it is for this reason that the human mind,
whilst engaged in speculating amongst a multiplicity
of facts and opinions, is apt to be led away to wrong
deductions by attaching an undue importance to
circumstances which, though of really slight conse-
quence, exert an influence on the mind, and to neglect
others deserving the deepest consideration. So that,
in this investigation, I am not without fear but that
I may fall into serious errors : the mind is quickly
abstracted, and, whilst in full determination to write
cautiously, this or that idea obtrudes itself, alluring
by its novelty and apparent consistency, and, blind-
ing its victim to a more correct course, leads him by
its own route to misconception and prejudice. Phi-
losophers also, in my opinion, have erred greatly in
VOL. VI.— 1835. Y

178 FOSSILS.

drawing general conclusions from partial and limited
evidence. Thus, one man, by an inconsistent leaning
to a favorite object, or bias in his reasoning powers,
might draw out a scheme of the great deluge, and
thence of the whole series of geological catas-
trophes, from the circumstances of the celebrated
Kirkdale Cave ; — another might derive great part
of his geognostic information from an acquaintance
with the "Crag" deposit; — whilst a third, reposing
unbounded confidence in the Mosaic accounts of the
creation and deluge, might advocate their supremacy
not only over every other account, but also the inu-
tility of reference to the evidence afforded us in nature.
I say it is possible for the mind to be thus partial
and contracted in its view s ; at all events, whether
authors have been thus guilty or not, it is evident
that such a course is incorrect, and that we ought
rather to deduce our conclusions from the entire mass
of evidence, after endeavouring to reconcile legiti-
mately the discrepancies which here exist^ when each
portion is separately considered. Cuvier, in his
"Theory of the Earth," makes, I see, a somewhat
similar remark on the " contrariety in the solutions
of the same problem :" he thinks this is occasioned
by " all the conditions of the problem never having
been taken into consideration at once."

With regard to the Mosaic account of the crea-
tion and deluge, I must make a few remarks before
proceeding further ; because, considering that too
much weight has been generally allowed it, I
am anxious to explain in what light I hold it,
and to induce others to investigate the subject of
geology (of which the study of fossils forms a part)
unshackled by that record. Now without entering
into the details of that account, or indulging in argu-
ment at this time, I content myself by stating that
it presents nothing but a confused and highly am-
biguous relation of events, and we ought to bear in
mind that it was not written to satisfy the enquiries
of modern naturalists but was intended solely to

FOSSILS. 179

present to succeeding generations a succint narration
of the wonderful process of the creation, and a brief
display of so appalling an occurrence as the deluge,
intended for the destruction of the human race.
Such is the problematical nature of the evidence here
afforded us, that it canot be surprising why natural-
ists, in endeavouring to avail themselves of some
assistance from the Bible to support a favorite theory,
should so widely differ in their opinions respecting
the import of a sentence. It seems to us, however,
that there should be no doubt but that the book of
Genesis is intended to record the principal events of
that age, those of striking importance ; and those
which shew the consequences of good and bad actions
in the lives of men ; and hence it is that the writer
describes in sufficiently precise language, and at
sufficient length, these circumstances : whilst, di-
rectly afterwards, he implies in one verse the omission
of a hundred or two of years. Therefore, we neither
rank among those who contend that the Mosaic
record is a forgery and an imposition on our credulity
— nor among such as pronounce it a distinct and
satisfactory explanation of the plan of the creation
or of the manner of the flood's destruction and over-
flow of the earth, or, lastly, of the mode in which the
present tribes were preserved and provided for. From
whence then are we to derive our knowledge of the
changes experienced by the earth and its inhabi-
tants? We have no older record than the Bible,
and the traditions of the most ancient nations bear
testimony only to the mere circumstance of a flood.
We must appeal therefore to natural evidence ; we
must appeal to natural phenomena for an explanation
of the causes acting to their existence of the effect
of their existence ; of the relations of their existence
to such as succeed, and precede them. We must
apply to the fossils and their containing strata for
an account of the time and manner of their deposits,
of the causes which brought them, their prede-
cessors, and successors, to act a part in the theatre

180 FOSSILS.

of nature, and of those which deprived them of their
being. The imperfect manner in which our know-
ledge can be acquired, at this source, will be seen
presently ; but I by no means profess to enter at
length into this enquiry ; I write for two purposes,
first and chiefly to present an explanation of the
manner in which our fossils received their present
situation, the time of that occurrence, and a reason
of their differences ; secondly, I write to excite dis-
cussion, and, having in view so desirable an object,
I omit intentionally the very many arguments I may
have to adduce at that time. In this subject argu-
ments and theories are plentiful, facts are scarce, and
we shall only increase our knowledge by the con-
joined labours of naturalists in every part of the
world ; by the diligence of collectors, and the indus-
try of contributors to the common stock of informa-
tion. I shall now proceed to mention such of the
ascertained facts respecting the strata of the earth,
and the contained fossils, as seem fit to precede the
more immediate object of this paper, premising,
however, that the amount of ignorance far exceeds
the amount of knowledge in this subject; and that,
as regards myself, I have not been able to arrive at
one conclusion on those points concerning which
philosophers have advocated such very different and
even opposite opinions ; for it is in vain that we read
books or study it theoretically, nothing but the
positive investigation of phenomena will ever advance
the study beyond the state in which it is now placed
by the labours of the greatest naturalist that ever
lived ; or warrant the adoption of one conclusion in it.
The study of Geology might be divided, for the
sake of convenience, into those strata not containing
organic remains, and those which do contain them.
The former of these comprise the rocks which were
in existence before the creation of plants and ani-
mals, and called "primitive,*' and those formations
called " alluvial," or such as have been in a constant
state of increase from existing causes up to this time,

FOSSILS. 181

from the period of the last and great deluge. Allu-
vial formations certainly contain the bones of animals,
dead shells, and trees : but these are of the same
species at present existing, and thereby differ ma-
terially from the second kind of strata which includes
all those deposits, succeeding the primitive rocks up
to that time in which the waters of the deluge (des-
cribed in the Bible, and preserved in the traditions
of nations) retired to their present site. On exam-
ining the strata comprising the crust of the globe,
w^e perceive the most unequivocal proofs of successive
depositions : each of which as a general rule may be
stated to possess fossils of a kind different from those
preceding and following them in the other strata.
Moreover, on a nearer examination and comparison
of fossil specimens, it is found that, in proportion as
we rise from the most ancient of thi^ kind of strata,
to that which resulted from the action of the great
deluge, so, likewise, do we rise in the gradation of
animals, from the lowest tribes to such as stand
highest in the scale of beings, and bear the greatest
affinity to existing tribes. Thus we have a consecu-
tive progression observed in the creation of animals,
from the lowest of the zoophytic tribes to quadru-
manous animals and Man — an observation in perfect
accordance with the Mosaic account: and thus,
also, do we learn, that the revolutions of the earth
have been numerous, and that, of these, the one
mentioned by Moses was the last. It is therefore
to zoology, to an acquaintance with the laws of
physiology, that geologists are so much indebted
for an excellent and beautiful illustration of some of
the fundamental doctrines of their science. If they
had not been aware of a gradation in the chain of
beings, and that upon that principle they were cre-
ated ; if they had not known how to distinguish
genera and species ; and if they had not been aware
of the laws of dependance in nature, by which we are
enabled to explain why certain animals are found
grouped together in strata, how would the geological

182 FOSSILS.

epochs and divisions have been estabhshed ? What
proofs could they have obtained of repeated deluges ?
What proofs of the original fluidity of the strata, and
of the manner of their deposition ? How could they
have drawn distinctions between diluvial and alluvial
formations ?

Geognosy has been divided into the " primitive,"
"transition," "secondary," and "tertiary," forma-
tions. Primitive rocks are such as were in existence
before the creation, and are accordingly stated to
contain no organic remains. Transition rocks, so
named I suppose because they constitute a medium
between the primary and secondary, display certain
fossils of the lowest tribes. Secondary formations
are the most extensive, they comprise all the strata
from the compact transition limestone to the chalk,
and contain abundance of coal, Crustacea, shells,
fishes, and oviparous quadrupeds, and some have
likewise stated that bones of mammifera have been
found ; but it is in the tertiary or last formations that
fossil mammaha have been generally recognised ;
although even here, agreeably to the general rule,
the bones of oviparous quadmpeds and marine quad-
rupeds take precedence ; and as it were, lead the
way to more perfect and complicated productions.
Such is a faint outline of the order of superposition
of organic remains — such is pretty nearly the sum
of our information, and what a host of questions are
there still remaining unanswered ! what a host of
theories are there still remaining sub judice ! Were
the deluges preceding the Mosaic deluge general or
partial? Was the Mosaic or last deluge general or
partial ? Did the bed of the ocean and the continent
exchange circumstances on the event of this deluge ?
At the time of this deluge was there great violence
exerted, so that the productions of one country were
conveyed by the waters to another ? If the animals
whose remains we now find in any given country did
originally exist there, was the climate at that time
the same as at present? Have there been re-creations

FOSSILS. 183

of organised beings after each flood, or in what man-
ner were they preserved during its occurrence ? If
the Ark was the means provided for this purpose in
the case of the last deluge where are now the cave
animals, whose destruction, with the exception of
one pair, is referred to that cause ; — the hysena ?
the rhinoceros ? the elephant ? the polecat ? and so
forth : or, can we suppose that these creatures were
actually landed from the Ark, that they had multi-
plied, and, in process of time, when this island was
inhabited, that they became extirpated through the
influence of the chase ? or, lastly, are we warranted
in believing that there was an exclusive reception
into the Ark ; the fauna of the country then inhab-
ited by man iDcing preserved ; or, certain animals,
such as were consistent with the future state of the
earth, with the safety of man, and the intentions of
Divine Providence, being alone directed to the ap-
pointed protection ?

Such are a few of the questions which might each
bear a lengthened discussion ; every one, by means
of his reason and judgment, must reply to them for
himself if he be able : but we are persuaded that,
considering the indefinite and scanty materials fur-
nished us by tradition, and the equally scanty, and
scattered, though clear, evidence afforded in nature :
no man should arrogate to himself the power of
dictating, and deciding on them for others ; or, that,
if he ventured to do so, it should not invalidate
opinions before advanced to the same end ; nor in-
capacitate the mental efforts of future enquirers after
truth.

To he continued.

184
PROSPECTUS OF LECTURES.

TO BE DELIVERED IN THE A T H E N ^ U M O F TH E

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

DURING THE SESSION OF MDCCCXXXV. — VI.

1835. Oct. 1.

Mr. Prideaux,

Chemistry.

8.

Mr. Owen,

Resistance of Fluids.

15.

Mr. Gabriel,

Sketches of Character.

22.

Lieut-Col. Smith,

Location of the Celtic na-
tions.

29.

Rev. S. Rowe,

Utilitarianism.

November 5.

Mr. Wightwick,

Pope.

12.

Mr. Swain,

Respiration.

19.

Mr. Swain,

Circulation. [land.

26.

Mr. S. Purdon,

Sketch of the History of Ire-

December 3.

Rev. Mr. Smith,

Geology.

10.

Mr. H. Chatfield,

Classification and Arma-
ment of the British Navy*

17.

Rev. B. St. John,

Character of deliberative
Assemblies.

24.

Mr. J. Adams,

Review of Gas Engineering.

31.

Mr. H. WooUcombe

'y Antiquarian researches in
Devon and Cornwall.

1836. Jan. 7.

Mr. D. Derry,

Currency.

14.

Rev. G. Patey,

The Moral Sense.

21.

Rev. Mr. Webb,

Progress of Civilization.

28.

Mr. Page,

Gothic Architecture.

February 4.

Mr. T. Southwood,

Geometry.

11.

Mr. W. S. Harris,

Electric Light.

18.

Rev. Dr. Jacob,

Physiological Botany.

25.

Mr. A. B. Johns,

Perpetual Motion.

March 3.

Mr. Norman,

Patronage of Art.

10.

Rev. S. Rowe,

Literature and Language of
the Anglo-Saxons.

17.

Rev. B. St. John,

Judicial Orations.

24.

Rev. R. Luney,

The intellectual character
and prospects of the pres-
ent Age.

185
THERESA ABRUZZI.

Continued from page 133.

" Your conditions are hard, I had almost said unjust/^ exclaimed
Marco.

"They are at least unchangeable," replied the count drily:
"you know the oath that Theresa has sworn to me, and you
know also the only terras on which my consent shall ever be
yielded to your union."

" You leave me, then, no choice," cried Marco mournfully ;
"but may I not see Theresa ere I depart?"

" For what purpose ? '^

" Alas, I know not ! Oh, count, you little know what you
have this day counselled — Heaven grant that the issue may never
recoil upon you."

He sighed and departed. \

Theresa, informed by her father of the result of their confer-
ence, grew more composed, and by degrees regained much of that
elasticity of mind which had shed its fairy beams over her earlier
years. Naturally sanguine, and unversed in worldly affairs, she
looked forward with hope, almost with confidence, to the result
of those efforts which she understood from time to time employed
the unceasing attention of Marco. Of the nature of those efforts
little was known. His absences from Mantua were frequent,
and often protracted ; but the few domestics whom he yet retained,
and who were ancient servants of the family, preserved a religious
silence on all that respected their master : yet there were those
who pretended to read in their dejected looks and faltering speech
a tale of disaster and disappointment. The count himself ob-
served that there was much mystery about the actions of Petroni,
and even hinted his apprehensions that the hopes of Marco
pointed to the same fatal source in which the ruin of his father
had originated. After the lapse of a few months, however,
brighter prospects seemed to open. It was ascertained that
Marco had remitted considerable sums to his steward, and had
even directed certain repairs to be commenced in his palace,
which seemed to indicate an intention of restoring it to its former
grandeur. Thus time rolled on till one month only of the stipu-
lated period remained to be accomplished, when Petroni suddenly
presented himself at the villa Abruzzi. His pursuits, whatever
they had been, had much changed him. His looks were wild,
his features haggard — and there was a degree of ferocity in his
VOL. VI. — 1835. z

186 THERESA ABRUZZI.

maimer utterly foreign to the mild and urbane dignity of his
former character.

" I come, count, a suppliant, but to your justice rather than
to your mercy. The task you have imposed on me is impracti-
cable; either extend the time, or reduce the demand. I have
toiled when even the herdsman slept; I have dared that, which
but for Theresa" — and he struck his forehead with his clenched
hand as he spoke, " I had trembled even to look upon. Nay,
hear me out. — I have amassed a treasure which ought, which must
be accepted as a release from further toil."

" Name it," replied the count — " It is a good earnest," con-
tinued he, returning the papers to Marco, " and requires but a
little more exertion to secure the object of your desires. Nay,
nay, no entreaties; I am firm, Petroni."

"Say rather hardened," exclaimed Marco, with bitterness;
"but 1 have done: I bow to no man. On your head be the
consequences of this fatal hour ! "

Infuriated by conflicting passions, he rushed into the garden,
where, at the foot a temple which had been erected to the memory
of the late countess, he beheld Theresa, seated and looking on
the declining sun with a countenance in which peace, innocence,
and love, were sweetly depicted. He paused, he trembled ; the
big drops of emotion chased each other across his pale forehead,
as he gazed on her who, still unconscious of his presence, seemed
lost in happy musing. '

" With thee — with thee, Marco," she slowly murmured. He
was at her feet.

" If you love me, Theresa" —

" Marco, what means this ? " exclaimed the affrighted maid.

" It means," said he wildly, " that I am again rejected, spurned,
despised, by your relentless father; that, to gratify his ambition,
his avarice, he would force me on courses which my soul abhors.
Oh, save me, save me, Theresa ! " he cried, his tears bursting
forth in an unrestrained flood : " I am lost — dishonored —
wretched here and hereafter, but for thee ! Thy gentle hand can
alone lead me back from paths which but for thee I had never
trod ! "

" Marco, what mean you ? *'

" That to win you from your father I must peril life, honour,
my immortal soul ! "

" Oh frightful, frightful I speak not thus ! by what means
can I r

THERESA ABRUZZI. 187

" Fly with me, this instant fly 1 and I am secure and happy.
Happy ! oh what a word to express the bliss, the rapture of
possessing thee."

*^ Marco, it must not be I " exclaimed the maiden firmly;
rather let us at this moment bid each other an eternal farewell
than violate an oath sacred in the sight of man and Heaven.
Nay, nay, look not thus upon me ; fortune may smile on us yet.'^

" I cannot lose you I '* cried he wildly : " whatever be the
issue, I must peril all."

" Oh Marco, what mean you ? "

"Ask not, know not!" he exclaimed; "Fate thrusts me on-
ward, whither I dare not look — You are the prize, Theresa, to gain
whom nor earth nor heaven shall bar me."

" Oh hold, Marco ! "

*' It is too late," he cried, as he imprinted a burning kiss on
her lips ; " even this may be the last ! "

He looked on her with a countenance in which love and despair
were strangely mingled, waved his hand, and was out of sight in
an instant.

The agitation of Theresa remained long after the immediate
effects of this last mysterious interview with her lover had passed
away. Alas ! the more she reflected on his dark insinuations,
the greater was her terror at their impending issue ; yet, unable
to comprehend or even to guess at the nature of his forebodings,
she could but weep and wonder, and seek in the past noble
career of Marco a trembling hope and assurance of the future.
That he had left Mantua immediately on quitting her she soon
learned. She could not, therefore, if she would, have sought
him, nor had she even the means of addressing a letter to him,
as his old steward had owned to her, on inquiry, that he was
wholly ignorant of the place of his retreat.

Time, which pursues its undeviating course through good and
ill, passed on ; and a few days now only remained before the
expiration of that period on which the fate of Theresa depended.
Nothing, however, had yet been heard of Marco, and her fears
augmented almost to distraction as hour after hour stole insensibly
away. At this momentous crisis the count received intelligence
of the death of a relative near Naples, with the important
addition of a large property having devolved on him. With the
ardour of one whose whole soul was concentrated in the acqui-
sition of wealth, he gave orders for their immediate departure to
take possession of his newly-gained riches. In vain did Theresa

188 THERESA ABRUZZI.

urge the nearness of that hour on which her destiny seemed to
rest. The count would hear of no opposition.

"Respect for the dead, Theresa/* said he, "would at all
events oblige us to postpone the nuptials. Indeed, we stand
altogether in an altered situation ; if there was disparity of fortune
before, how much greater is it now ? "

"You would not break faith with Marco, my father?" ex-
claimed Theresa faintly.

"I am not yet called upon to keep it," cried the count pet-
tishly ; " when Marco claims the performance of my promise I
shall know how to answer him."

Theresa shuddered ; she read in her father's eye the wavering of
his heart. Alas ! should Marco claim her hand at the appointed
day, would her father fulfil his engagement? and should he fail,
what must be then her part? — " to keep my oath I" she mentally
exclaimed ; " have I not sworn 1"

They arrived at Rome in perfect safety; the count elated with
his good fortune, and Theresa proportionably depressed at the
probable consequences of this seemingly auspicious event.
There they were advised to take an armed escort to protect them
from the brigands who were reported to infest some part of the
road to Naples, and whose depredations of late had assumed a
more daring and atrocious character. The count, however,
who loved money too well to part with it, unless in a case of
absolute necessity.

" I have just learned, Theresa," said he to his daughter, the
morning after their arrival, " that the prince of Casti will leave
Rome to-morrow ; and as he is said to have considerable trea-
sure with him he will, of course, take a proportionate escort : in
his company, therefore, we may travel securely. — Why, girl,
what are you thinking of ?"

" Of the festival of St. Michael," replied Theresa reproachfully.

" True, true: the time draws near — two days only, I believe:
the greater need, therefore, for haste, that we may reach home in
time for Petroni, who will certainly not grudge to tarry for us a
short time ; to-morrow, therefore, we start for Naples."

They quitted Rome at sun-rise, to be in advance of the prince
of Casti, who, tlie count feared, would travel with greater expe-
dition than they could command. On reaching the house in the
Pontine Marshes where they were to dine, nothing, however,
appeared of the prince or his suite ; and after having waited some
hours for his arrival, the count had the mortification to learn from

THERESA ABRUZZI. 189

a courier who then passed, that his highness, from some unex-
plained cause, had deferred his journey till the following day.
They had no choice, therefore, but to remain at a wretched inn
of very questionable safety, or pursue their route to Terracina.
In this exigency, the count, whose chief fears were for his wealth
of which he carried as little as possible, decided on the latter
course ; and speed was too consonant to the feelings of Theresa
to meet with opposition from her, even had her apprehensions
been greater than they were. As nightfall approached, how-
ever, the timidity of the count increased.

" We shall be late in Terracina, Theresa ; and, to say truth, I
like not this mountainous path ; it savours of danger. Nay,
nay, do n't be alarmed ; look, girl, to the end of the vista, and
see how gloriously the sun is setting — on Terracina, as I live,
and the sparkling sea behind it ! "

It was indeed a scene of brilliant beauty, suggesting only
ideas of peace and innocence. Alas ! that the loveliest haunts
of nature should be profaned by the lawless rapacity of man I
They were already emerging from the pass, calmed and reassured,
when a band of brigands, fully armed and masked, rushed from
a cavern in the rock and demanded booty. The count, in tot-
tering haste, yet not without an inward struggle, handed the
contents of his purse, which to his astonishment, was fQriously
repulsed by the robber, while Theresa, terrified and trembling at
his violence, sunk half-fainting to the back of the carriage.

"This is but mockery," cried one of the party, in a dissonant
voice; "we know you for the prince of Casti; your treasure, or
you die ! "

" No, on my life, on my soul ! "

"Perjure not yourself, old man; it will not save you here,
and may damn you hereafter, if priests speak truth."

" No impiety," cried a hollow voice behind.

" You are deceived, on my soul," exclaimed the count, in great
trepidation; " I am no prince ; I am a poor traveller, whom you
but vainly impede. — Drive on postillions."

" At your peril ! " cried the brigand who had last spoken, and
who seemed the leader of the band, approaching the carriage
window : "we are not deceived, sir prince, and you escape us
not. Your treasure, or you die ! "

" Do I dream ? " said the count — "that voice" —

" Delay is death !" exclaimed the brigand, in a voice of thun-
der : " will you yield ? "

190 THERESA ABRUZZI.

The count, seemingly paralyzed by some inward emotion,
answered not.

" Heaven forgive me then ! '^ cried the brigand, as he levelled
his carbine : " it is my last stake."

" Hold, hold ! " exclaimed the count, as the ball entered his
heart.

Theresa, reviving from her trance, looked up, as the body of
her dead father sunk on her knees ; and at that moment the mask
fell from the face of his murderer. It was Marco ! — Astonish-
ment, horror, and despair were depicted on his countenance.
She sunk insensible at his feet.

On recovering her senses, she found herself in bed, with her
only female attendant weeping at her side. " It was then but a
dream ! " she exclaimed ; "yet thy tears, Marina, and, oh ! that
murdered form ! " fixing her gaze on the dead body of her father,
which, from want of room, had been deposited in the same apart-
ment. " Nay, hinder me not," she cried, as she sunk back ex-
hausted on the bed : " I must go to him — he is my only parent !
Alas ! have I a parent ?" The sense of her bereavement was too
horrible for endurance. Convulsions succeeded each other with
frightful rapidity ; and in a few hours she was reduced to the
brink of the grave.

Long did she remain in this wretched abode, hovering between
life and death ; and indebted, under Heaven, for her recovery to
the unremitting care of the gentle and affectionate Marina. Of
the past she seemed for a time to have but a feeble and confused
recollection. The sudden alarm, the fatal catastrophe, passed at
intervals over her memory like an imperfect image, pale and
indistinct; and once she saw, or dreamed she saw, the figure of
the murderer, through the scanty curtains of her bed. It was no
dream : the shade of her former lover — alas ! he was now only a
shade — hovered around her, unseen by her domestics, and min-
istered to her safety ; he was, in fact, uncontrolled lord of the
district, and his fiat was fate. Horror-struck at his crime, he
had instantly fled the spot, leaving even Theresa, whose glance
he dared not again meet, to the care of her attendants ; but lost
as she was to him now and for ever, her fate was still his ; and
his first aftercourse was to track her steps to the inn whither they
had conveyed her, and the occupants of which were the mere
creatures of his will. Strange that the crime by which he had
hoped to secure the possession of her should be the means of
wresting her from his arms. Retributive justice, though often

THERESA ABRTJZZI. 191

slow, is not the less sure. Once, indeed, a demoniac impulse,
which her utter helplessness alone could have suggested, flashed,
across his excited imagination ; yet, fallen as he now was, his
better feelings recoiled with horror even from the thought of in-
juring such angelic purity. He but lingered round the spot, like
an unearthly being over the grave of his hopes, till the reviving
senses of Theresa warned him to be gone; when he departed,
thanks to the inefficiency or weakness of the Roman government,
none knew or inquired whither.

Youth and an excellent constitution at length prevailed ; and
Theresa, now countess Abruzzi, revived to the misery and desola-
tion that awaited her. With a celerity, which seemed to spring
from a dread of encountering the cause of that misery, she fled
the scene of her deprivation, and sought that lonely home from
which happiness was for ever banished. Here a fixed but serene
melancholy succeeded to those paroxysms of grief which had
shaken her frame almost to dissolution. Yet, severe as was the
task of again mingling with the world, she declined not such
consolation as friendship might yield; wholly disregarding, how-
ever, on the one hand, the splendid alliances which were urged
on her acceptance, and, on the other, the counsels of those who
would have persuaded her to retire to a convent, and dedicate
her vast fortune to religious uses. Her sorrow was not of an
ascetic character : to console the aged and miserable, to heal the
wounds of sickness or misfortune, to feed the hungry, and to
clothe the naked — these were the only alleviations to a grief
which grew more calm but not less intense, as the strong lights
of her sufferings yielded to the soft shading of time. The perse-
verance of the prince of Castel-Monti, who only of her suitors
continued to persecute her with unavailing addresses, disturbed
for a space that serenity of woe which the virtuous alone can
feel. Even he, however, wearied and somewhat incensed at the
firmness of her rejection, seemed at last also to have abandoned a
fruitless pursuit.

To the catastrophe of that fatal evening she had never adverted;
nor did the public voice reproach her with a supineness, which
was variously attributed to timidity or hopelessness of discovering
the perpetrators of the deed. The crime was too frequent, and
the atonement too uncertain, to excite more than a temporary in-
terest. Marco ever in her thoughts, but never named by her,
whera was he ? — Did he still live ? — Could he yet pursue that
guilty course which had led him to the commission of a crime,

192 THERESA ABRUZZI.

involuntary, indeed, as to the person, but not the less to be ab-
horred ! Alas ! had he but made his peace with offended hea-
ven, his death now were the most welcome tidings that could
have reached her; but his fate was wholy unknown : he had
never returned to Mantua, and his faithful steward, heart-broken
at his absence, had sought from the countess intelligence which
he believed, she only could give. It was a heart-rending scene :
the tears of the old man fell fast and unrestrained, while Theresa,
torn by the conflict of warring passions, with difficulty struggled
through an interview which recalled the past in all its vivid
horrors.

The prince of Castel-Monti, though seemingly acquiescent in
the rejection of Theresa, had kept a strict but unobserved watch
on her actions. He had marked with surprise the long estrange-
ment of Marco, who, it was generally expected would have ap-
peared to claim the hand of the countess now that every obstacle
to their union was apparently removed. Long pondering on the
strangeness of his continued absence, he had been led to sus-
pect that it was in some shape connected with the death of the
count; and the shrinking, the alarm of Thersea, at some slight
insinuations which he had purposely dropped, had tended to
strengthened bis suspicions. If he loved her less than when
he had first addressed her, he was not the less desirous of possessing
her. His avarice was excited by her great accession of wealth,
and his pride, which had been deeply wounded by her disdain
of his suit, could he only now be appeased by his final tri-
umph. Could he but penetrate that secret, of the existence of
which he was every day more firmly covinced, success was cer-
tain ; once master of that, the rest followed of course. In this
mood he had watched the departure of Marco's steward from the
villa Abruzzi : and determined at all hazards, to profit by the
occasion, he had, by the connivance of her major-|Jomo, ab-
ruptly entered the presence of Theresa, while her cheeks were
yet wet with the emotions of that fearful interview. Incensed at
his intrusion, she replied to his artful questions as to the cause
of her disorder, with a spirit and self-possession which, though
they baffled, did not the less irritate him. Finding, however,
that he was but injuring the cause he had hoped to promote, he
at length withdrew, breathing secret denunciations of vengeance
against the unfortunate countess.

To he continued.

PRINTED BY G. P. HEARDER, PLYMOUTH.

V

m

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, NOVEMBER 1st, 1835.

No. 35.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

LOCAL SKETCHES.
No. I.— TAVISTOCK.

The home of an Englishman connects itself with his
dearest interests and affections. Bid him describe
it, and you instantly command his gratitude ; sym-
pathize with his admiration of it, and you make him
your friend. It is his heart's best treasure, and every
thing connected with it is viewed through the mag-
nifying medium of the association which endears
him to one favoured spot. With such feelings, and
perhaps with too much partiality, I have complied
with your request, Mr. Editor, and reviewed in ima-
gination those scenes which make beautiful the home
represented in the accompanying engraving. A
passing stranger would, perhaps, regard it with in-
difference, an artisf might turn aside in disdain, —
but to those who have been, and still are, inmates of
that beloved abode, and wanderers in that sweet
valley, it contains an intrinsic worth, which makes
them prefer it to all the world besides. I will not
stop to explain this untold, yet deeply-felt, charm :
it will be understood by every one who possesses a
small hut which he may call his own.

" Ad ogni uccello,

II suo nido par bello."

Time urges me onward to scenes which will repay
even an uninterested spectator for their survey,
however slight and casual that may be. The Vale,

VOL. VI. — 1835. AA

194 TAVISTOCK.

in which Tavistock is situated, is rich in mingled
attractions. The Tavy, fringed with overhanging
woods, wanders through its whole extent, rendering
fertile every spot of ground within the influence of
its liquid stores ; and affording a never-failing supply
to the inhabitants of the neighbouring town. On
either side of the river arise small eminences, dotted
with trees and backed by the noble tors of Dart-
moor, frowning in barren grandeur on the quiet
beauty of which they are themselves totally destitute.
From the marshy waste innumerable little tributaries
take their source, and, after dashing and foaming
through their rocky channels, precipitate themselves
by a thousand mimic cataracts into the larger stream;
amongst these the Walla, renowned in song, by the
poet Browne, claims our first notice as " bride of
the vale.'' Whether some secret converse is carried
on, in subterranean caves, between the two rivers,
I cannot presume to say, but certain it is that the
Walla after visiting the narrow vallies of Kilworthy
and Ina's-coombe ; losing itself in the shady haunts
of the pixies ; and practising sundry vagaries of a
like nature, at length emerges into broad day-light,
and is married to the gentle Tavy in the centre of
the vale. A gay affair is that never ending wedding,
for there resort " the coy beauties of the meadow,"
displaying their richest bloom and sweetest fra-
grance. But alas ! the Tavy is an inconstant lover ;
it glides away from the humble Walla, and, after
receiving a number of rivulets equally beautiful,
unites itself with the Tamar, a stream of noble birth
and swelling importance, which, in its turn, flows
onwards and joins itself to the mighty sea.

A great deal more I could say, respecting these
wandering rivers, but it is now time to return to the
pleasant town whence we first set out. On my
way, I must pause for one moment on the beauties
of the Abbot's Weir, situated three miles from Tavis-
tock, just below the junction of the Tavy and Walk-
ham. An excursion to this lovely spot, and an

TAVISTOCK. 195

inspection of the neighbouring mine, by courte&y
ycleped the ^^Virtuous Lady/' will amply repay the
admirer of Nature's wonders, both above and below
the surface of the earth. From the adjoining heights
the church and clustering houses of Tavistock,
appearing literally embosomed in a glorious company
of hills, present a pleasing picture of a sweet home-
scene.

The entrance to the town, on the Plymouth side,
is nobly finished, at one end, by the archway of Fitz-
ford, and, at the other, by the relics of the ancient
Abbey, lately repaired and embellished at the order
and expence of the Duke of Bedford. As it is well
known that the bird of wisdom seeks refuge in the
sombre ivy-bush, so the learning of the place has
found an asylum in the ivy-crowned turrets of the
Abbey. Two rooms are fitted up with excellent
taste, one as the Library, the other as the Literary
Institution of the place ; a third contains the Muse-
um of a society for local and provincial researches
recently formed, under the superintendance of Dr.
C. Barham.

We are often honored with visits from strangers
of every description, artists in search of the pic-
turesque ; beggars in quest of the needful ; inva-
lids gasping for the bracing Dartmoor air; street
preachers warning us of the dangers of our situation ;
and poets extolling its beauties ; each and every one
finds a place of refuge to his liking in hostel or
barn, and, I trust, all are satisfied, in their own
opinion with their reception and sojourn in our fa-
vored vicinity.

I am afraid an architect would discover little
beauty in the various structures of my native town ;
although a lover of the romantic might enjoy the
admirable irregularity which prevails in every quar-
ter. Houses high and low, grand and poor, are
mingled together in motley confusion ; as if the
pixies had had a hand in their most curious founda-
tion. Certainly it appears as likely as that men of

196 TAVISTOCK.

feeling and discernment should so disfigure the birth-
place of their fathers ! However, the patch-work
is gradually improving, and some handsome shops,
a new and commodious market-house, and a cas-
tellated hotel, furnish some redeeming points in the
crooked features of the town. We shall be perfect
in time, but all things are not performed in a day.
If the outer-work of reformation proceed but slowly,
I am happy to state that, the mental process is gain-
ing ground continually. The increase of inteUigence
amongst the lower classes is visible to every eye.
By the assistance of some gentlemen, a mechanics'
library and reading room has been opened, which
undoubtedly increases the enlightenment, and con-
sequent happiness of its members. A public school,
on the Bell and Lancastrian system, also gives im-
petus to the rapid strides towards perfection, made
by the operatives of the place.

I have lately had means of ascertaining that both
disease and poverty are much lessened in this neigh-
bourhood. This may be partly attributed to the
charitable institutions, established by benevolent
individuals ; but it may also be imputed to the in-
crease of information and good sense amongst the
lower orders ; for, where intelligence is most rife,
where reason is most cultivated, there will be found
habits of the greatest industry, and there will ever
dwell the greatest comfort and peace. Happily the
present flourishing state of the mines and woollen
manufactures (which principally support the poor of
Tavistock) affords ample employment to all who.
desire it. New work is added at this time by some
structures about to be erected in the environs of the
town. Amongst these, towards the East, grounds
are laid out for a residence, in the Tudor style of
architecture, by your accomplished townsman, Mr.
Wightwick ; its simplicity will well accord with the
pastoral scenery by which it is surrounded. Farther
Westward lies, almost hidden by embowering trees,
the little woodland nook, occupied by Tavy cottage. ^

IRISHMAN AND HIGHLANDER. 197

At a short distance from this spot is Park-wood, the
subject of the frontispiece, many years a place of
education for young ladies. (It will be perceived
that our females keep pace in the grand march of
intellect, although dwelUng on the confines of the
barren moor.) On the opposite side of the river,
commanding the whole vale, and in view of the
Cornish hills, is situated Mount Tavy, the seat of
our active and benevolent magistrate J. Carpenter,
Esq. On a similarly elevated situation is built the
manor house, a new structure on the western side of
the town.

I have thus furnished some idea of our immediate
neighbourhood. Perhaps, at a future period, more
distant, and still more interesting scenes may find a
place in the " Museum ;" additional information res-
pecting the district of the Tavy may be derived from
a new work which is shortly expected from the able
pen of Mrs. Bray.

R. P. E.

COMPARISON BETWEEN THE IRISHMAN AND
HIGHLANDER.

There is no mark by which the native Irishman is
more distinguished than inquisitiveness. He will
walk miles with you to discover where you come
from, where you are going, and what is your busi-
ness ; he will appear merry to make you frank, and
perfectly untutored and simple with a design con-
stantly in view. An inquisitive mind is generally
accompanied with some degree of thoughtfulness.
A Highlander is both inquisitive and thoughtful, so
is an Irishman ; though I am inclined to think, that
he has not got quite so much of the pensive philo-
sopher in his nature. He can much more easily
become jocular than a Highlander ; nor is he so apt
to make these moral reflections on the common inci-
dents of hfe. Besides, the Highlander generally

198 COMPARISON BETWEEN THE &C.

passes his life more retired and in a manner much
more solitary than the Irishman, and is often left
altogether to his own reflections, and to the im-
pressions which a wild and mountain scenery pro-
duces. In Leitrim and in some parts of the county
of Donegal, the character of the natives approximates
nearer to that of a Highlander, than elsewhere. The
scenery of both these countries is wild and romantic.
I must next adveii to that susceptibility of grati-
tude and resentment, so observable in the Irish.
They are prone to extremes in their prepossessions,
or their antipathies, their love, or their hatred. They
have no idea of the heartless neutrality of indiffisr-
ence, of the frigid torpor of insensibility ; and it is
with difficulty they can maintain that equanimity of
mind, which accords with the happy medium of mo-
deration. They are ardent and high spirited ; and,
though not so proud as Highlanders, they have got
all their impetuosity. No people in the world can
be made better friends, and it is not easy to conceive
of worse enemies. They have got some vanity, and
they may be flattered ; they possess warm affections,
and they may very easily be secured ; but they have
a degree of resentment that will not suffer them with
impunity to be injured or insulted. This character
appears to me extremely valuable, since it may be
turned to the best account: little can be done in
improving a people dull and stupid ; but much may
be accomplished with those who are alive to every
impression, who are acute, and generous, and ardent.
After all, the character which I have been delinea-
ting must be allowed to have many faults. These,
however, should, I think, be ascribed to the moral
and political circumstances in which the Irish have
been placed. The constituent parts of this character
are certainly good ; and, if under proper direction,
would undoubtedly produce the happiest results.

M. D.

199
APOSTROPHE AT MIDNIGHT.

Ye spirits of Earth's dead ! Ye, who have passed

The borne of dissolution, and arrived

At some unspeakable, new world of being,

Some place of Glory — if enfranchised mind

Need aught beyond its own internal bliss ; —

Say ! — if ye may breathe back through mortal sense

One answer unto yearning bosoms here.

What are ye ? What immortal thoughts with things

Immortal dwell ? where Truth like shadeless light

Strikes upon all ; Truth, the first living ray

Of God, sent forth from Him to illumine all !

Is knowledge yours ? is love ? love upon knowledge

Founded, as on an everlasting rock :

Do ye, communing with the Maker's works,

Works of benevolence and wisdom, grow

More like to His perfection ? nearer Him ?

No answer comes ! the cells wherein ye lay

Are voiceless ; the wild winds that hold your breath ;

The earth, that hath your dust, the waters, where

Your tears are gone; are voiceless. Ye walk not

With us, or on the right hand, or the left.

Up to the Heavens we look, — the burning stars

Speak of themselves, but have no sound from you ;

Yet are they homes of beauty, where the spirits

Even of the just made perfect, might abide.

The depth of blue unfolds, — the sapphire courts

That skirt the throne of God ! There, do ye tread.

And hear angelic voices float around ?

Or with the First-created hold discourse.

Your own not held unworthy e'en of those

Who were, ere sun or stars, and saw them rise

In lovely order, till this universe

Was built sublime, and from yon circling spheres

The morning stars their heavenly anthem sung.

And can we look on them, nor think of you ?

Mind mingles with all these I the Invisible

Possess us ; every thought becomes a being

Living and moving ; filling up the vast

With glorious teachers, though to mortal eye

Yet unrevealed, by mortal ear unheard.

200 APOSTROPHE AT MIDNIGHT.

And why have human hearts e'er fled in terror

From the unknown ? why shook at thought of you ?

Immortal ones ! that once were like ourselves.

I cannot fly you ; come, if ye mai/ come,

Walk with me here. The starry lamps shall light

Our footsteps, or else mine, for you need not

Light, except that which is your very essence

And makes our brightest sunshine dark and chill.

Come ! I can bear your presence ; bid my soul

Rush to meet yours, and in that meeting joy

With glorious and unutterable gladness.

This is an hour (for beautiful and great

Here mingle, and raise up our earthly feeling

To cope with yours) — this is an hour to bring

Such intercourse, and melt the icy barrier

That shuts us out from you. The fairest forms

Of heaven and earth, are only now a vail

Between, which but a breath of yours would rend.

And can this be forbidden ? are our natures.

Once even the same, so separated now

That it were sin to hold communication

Of thought to thought? Must we still linger out

Our penal years, and wait until this coil

Be shaken off*, and we become as you ?

There hangs the mystery I Is knowledge sin ?

Or are you speechless, and incapable

Of making our dull senses take impression

From your pure nature, thus refined above

The grossness e'en of this fair habitation,

Esteemed God's noblest work beheld below ?

But come it will ! the hour which shall unveil

The viewless worlds of knowledge on our gaze;

When ye too shall be visible, and known

Eve/1 as ye know, — for we shall be like you,

The saved from doubt, to rest in certainty.

S. D.

201
A FASHIONABLE LADY'S DAY.

[Although we do not agree in all points with the writer of the
following paper, yet we give it insertion because it contains much
truth. The truth is certainly very sternly told, but even in that
case it is valuable. We are assured, that every young lady who
reads the Museum will not appropriate to herself any more of
the censure than she deserves.] Ed. S. D. M.

" There, then ; how, what then ? Let me see wherein
My tongue hath wrong'd him : if I do him right
Then he hath wronged himself; if he be free.
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies.
Unclaimed of any man."

"as you like it."

In an acute and clever pamphlet, on Primogeniture, lately pub-
lished, under the assumed name of " Winterbottom," some of the
follies and absurdities which characterize some of the female por-
tion of the community are exposed and censured. It has occurred
to the writer that this subject might be somewhat enlarged upon —
he proposes, therefore, to give a rough sketch of a day, as it is often
passed by a considerable number of the fair sex; — for an apology
(if one were needed) he can find none better than that of Jaques,
which has been adopted above.

To commence then, with the morning — and, to prevent misap-
prehension, " morning" here means, not the time when the
rosy light of dawn first illumines the skies, and chases away the
pale stars — not when the reddened east proclaims the coming
day, no, forsooth ! but about 10, A. M., do these individuals give
themselves the ^' rousing shake," and cease to enjoy " the honey-
heavy dew of slumber" — if they can get to breakfast by 11, it is
deemed a tremendous exertion; — thus, while the industrious
world has long been at work, do these indolent, sleep-loving per-
sonages masticate their matin meal I — and that over, they proceed
to " dress" — for, with all this lateness of rising, with all this
breakfasting when "the many" are about to eat their dinner,
they have not contrived to put on what they denominate
" fitting attire" — two or three hours having been misspent in this
important occupation, a desultory conversation ensues, as to
the expediency of going-a-shopping, in order to provide for
those everlasting sources of gain to drapers, milliners, &c., balls
and routs — or of making some morning, calls, which are due
and owing to Mr. Languish, Mrs. Gossip, or Miss Emptypate*
VOL. VI. — 1835. BB

202 A FASHIONABLE LADY's DAY.

The writer will not inquire minutely into the brilliant discourse
that usually obtains at these visits, but simply ask if the welfare of
the Nation, or any important measures before Parliament — if the
state of agriculture and trade — if the progress of science, litera-
ture or the fine arts are ever considered, or, whether fashion,
scandal and folly do not furnish invariable and constant topics ?

If going-a-shopping be the attraction, they dangle about from
one shop to another, each endeavouring to surpass the other, in
dull unmeaningness, in airified manners, or in inane silliness ; —
are they curious to know how any one of the infinity of articles
used by them is manufactured? whether it is a vegetable, animal,
or mineral substance? what part of the world produces it? is
there an inquisitiveness as to the national consumption of it ? a
to its imports into, or exports from their country?— that country
to whose looms " the luxurious natives of the Earth, and the
ruder inhabitants of the African deserts" are alike indebted for
the necessaries and conveniences of life, no ! not a spark of lau^
dahle curiosity, or desire to obtain information is evinced!
At length, having assiduously pestered the unfortunate shopmen
till they have satisfied their capricious wants, they arrive home,
of course, quite fatigued with the dreadful labours they have
undergone! and now comes the lunch, or the dinner; — at either
the unhappy mortal who is doomed to prepare aliment for their
fastidious tastes, is sure to get her share, directly or indirectly,
of those bitter and peevish ebullitions, which are the natural
result of indolence, ennui, and frivolity.

At dinner, moreover, there is a grand opportunity for the
display of different tastes and opinions — viz., as to whether meat
is preferable when well roasted, or when red and juicy; as to
the vulgarity of beans and bacon, or the superiority of a farina-
ceous over a cereous potatoe! — but can they dress a leg of
mutton, boil a cabbage, or make a loaf? no, forsooth! bedizened
heads would be finely tossed, and haughty and scornful looks
would be venomously darted at any one who should presume to
tax them with the least cognizance of such vulgar — such de-
meaning attainments !

Evening at length arrives, it is spent at home — they have a
party, or go out to one.

The evening without a party is probably the most disagreeable
and the most nauseous, because it is devoid of those transient and
frivolous amusements, which are so well adapted to feed them
to repletion on the useless and the silly, to the entire abandon-

A FASHIONABLE LADY's DAY. 203

mentof utility and good sense ; brains are now racked, minds are
at work, to devise some scheme to kill time ! some trifling work,
perad venture is in hand, the making of a frippery cap for some
future denizen of the world ; the cutting out scraps from a news-
paper to paste in a witless scrap book, a vain copying of some
sonnet of Wordsworth, or some song of Moore into an album, this,
they imagine will ensure to them an exquisite feeling for the sub-
lime and beautiful ; another perhaps prosily wades through the
last worst novel, which has already passed through many hands
most guiltless of ablution, and is well scribbled over with non-
sensical and ungrammatical notes and remarks — another will
look into Byron or Scott, for it is deemed mighty fine to have
read any thing of theirs, and to have ready cut and dried, a few
names to utter on occasion, such as " Lara," " Cheelde Harold,"
*' Branksome," and the like.

The rout at home, and the rout out, are really scarcely worth
description, suffice it to say, that on these occasions there is a
tremendous fuss and anxiety about bustles, gauze, foulards,
peignors, &c. : jewels of all kinds are also much in request; all
their care, in short, is to " set themselves off to advantage'* — but
alas ! it never occurs to them at any time, to reflect on the dif-
ferent properties of the marvellous and exquisite gems which
they so heedlessly wear, such as their lustre, their tenacity, or
their structure; they are indeed bright as to the resplendency of
their jewels, but impenetrably and obstinately dark as regards
the abused head, which the pearl of Ceylon, and the amphibious
tortoise assist in adorning.

The subject matter of conversation at these soirees is much of the
same nature as that of the morning- visit, perhaps races, fancy fairs,
balls, &c., are entered into more deeply and scientifically ; alas !
what interesting subjects are too often entirely overlooked and
forgotten : — for instance, the immense powers of Steam — " it is
" on rivers and the boatman may repose on his oars ; it is in
" highways, and begins to exert itself along the courses of land-
** conveyance; it is at the bottom of mines, a thousand feet below
^' the earth's surface, it is in the mill, and in the workshops of
"the trades. It rows, it pumps, it excavates, it carries, it draws,
^^ it lifts, it hammers, it spins, it weaves, it prints ;' — is there no
moment of reflection — not a single thought for such a subject ?
Again — if you endeavour to elicit an observation or criticism on
Shakspeare or Milton, you obtain nothing save a whining, listless
drawl in praise of Da — a — ante. Again the progressive refine-

204 A FASHIONABLE LADy's DAY.

merit of popular taste, and the advancement of the rational nature
of the million, all sink into insignificance, and are regarded as
nothing; and this to discuss the superiority of the "Disowned,"
over " Tremordyn Cliff," or to expiate on the respective merits
of "Warren's Milk of Roses," or the " Asiatic Depilatory."

There is not however much time to devote to colloquial inter-
course, as dancing generally occupies a considerable portion of
the night; but, what are its accompany ments? — a heated room,
an unwholesome atmosphere, stiffness and formality of dress and
deportment, sans ease, sans grace. Would it not afford more
real and genuine pleasure if the scene of action were a green
meadow, and the decorations employed the sweet-smelling rose
and the delicate violet, instead of the ruby and the emerald ?

Here may be seen scandal and deceit, under the garb of friend-
ship and amiability — here stalks the demon of heartlessness with
his satellites — vanity, falsehood, and dress !

Thus do they pass many hours, till, at length, thoroughly
sated, or warned by Aurora, they desist, and retire to their
several dormitories, where much unnecessary toil still awaits
them, or rather the unfortunate slave that attends them, whom
it is their delight to tantalize and annoy.

After this last labour, they attain the couch, which is their
nocturnal (we should say) diurnal habitation, and too often from
their continual excesses and imprudence, is that delightful and
healthful repose denied them, which is enjoyed by the storm-
tossed ship-boy, the industrious peasant, or the hard-working
artisan.

While, however, we condemn and censure the vanities and
follies of many females, it would be unjust not to admit that
there are to be found among them most estimable and exemplary
characters; the kind voice and soothing sympathy of woman
alleviates and diminishes the sorrows and afflictions of man, when
oppressed and overcome by the hand of disease, the sway of
poverty, or the withering influence of despair.

The writer fears that no Act of Parliament, no order in Council
will correct the abuses that have been glanced at thus briefly ;
no, not until a great revolution in the rules and customs of
society ,^ and a thoroughly organic change in the system of female
education, shall have been brought about, shall we see that
praiseworthy spirit of inquiry, that desire to acquire knowledge
and to diffuse it among others, and that catholic philanthropy
which ought to be predominant in the hearts and minds of all
who pretend to the name of a human and rational being.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 205

To arrive at a right and wholesome state, sincerity must take
the place of hypocrisy, wisdom that of folly, and fashion be
hurled from her throne by reason and simplicity.

A De Stael, a Somerville, and a Martineau are found among
their ranks ; to what then is a deficiency and perversion of
ability and talent to be attributed, but to corporeal, instead of
mental cultivation, — the sacrifice of the mind to the empire of the
body.

Philombrotus.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN, R. N.

Continued from page 163.

We continued in this misex'able plight until about four o'clock, when Mr.
Essel became quite weak and feeble, and the rest not much better, which
induced us to quit this wretched place, and endeavour to get shelter in a house,
let the consequence be what it might. Accordingly we approached a single
hut, at a short distance from the village—entered, and found in it a poor old
peasant and two lads, who proved to be his sons : they were shivering over a
few cinders, and appeared very miserable. We requested they would make
a fire, and allow us to dry our things and warm ourselves ; which they did,
upon our promising payment ; they appeared very much astonished at our
appearance, and seemed greatly at a loss to know who and what we were.
The fire being now made, we proceeded to squeeze the water out of our
clothes, and to endeavour to get them a little dry. We made the old peasant
bring us some bread ; he also brought us a little butter, which by chance he
had in the house ; the old dame, his wife, having taken all the rest that
morning to St. Quentin's market. We imagined we should do extremely well
if the old man would allow us to remain all night, even by the fire-side ; as it
was impossible to attempt to travel, it rained so excessively hard. This w^e
intimated to our venerable host, but he, without hesitation, assured us it was
impossible. There was a public house in the village, he observed, where we
could get supplied with every thing we might want ; and as it was so very
near, there could be little difficulty attending our getting there ; at this moment
two peasants were passing his door, he added, — those two men belong to the
village, they will point out the house to you. He then called the two men :
they appeared very civil : no alternative, so we paid the old man for his fire>
bread, butter, &c., and accepted of the otfer of those men.

We soon arrived at the little village, and to our inexpressible joy found it a
very miserable one. Our guides shewed us the public house, and quitted.
We entered, and found the good landlady had nothing to give us but bread
and eggs ; no bed, but a loft full of clean hay ! This was the only inn (as
they termed it) in the village. We appeared to hesitate, whether we should
remain here or proceed to the next town : inquiring what distance it might be.
Our hostess replied about three or four miles to a tolerably large village. It
rained too hard, we told her, to go that distance, and inconvenient as it was,
we would remain with her, and sleep in the hay-loft that night, in preference
to being exposed any longer to the inclemency of the weather. This was

206 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT O^BRlEN.

indeed the kind of tavern and lodgings that suited us ; I never was more
pleased than at this reception. We got a good fire made, completed drying
our clothes, got some supper, and retired to the hay-loft. The good woman
gave us two blankets to cover us ; we foand this accommodation sufficiently
good, and we very soon fell fast asleep.

Thursday, September 10., 1807. The next day, fortunately for us, (as it kept
08 under cover) was very inclement, raining without intermission. We kept
in the loft, except one at a time, who went to procure breakfast, and to
inform the landlady, who, we found, was a widow, that we would stay until
evening, in hopes that the rain might cease. We sent her our trowsers
stockings, &c., to mend for us. We could move about without fear in this
place, and found they were utter strangers to the sight of a gen d'armes.
The good lady took us for conscripts, and commiserated our situations. She
had a brother in the army, then in Prussia ; brought us a letter to read, that
she had lately received from him ; I served in the same regiment ; she was
very much pleased to hear it. At about seven we paid the worthy old hostess>
and took our leave ; the night was clear star-light, and promised favorably •
but the ground was so excessively slippery and muddy, that we could scarcely
prevent ourselves from falling at every step we took.

At about ten, Mr. Esscl was seized with a violent bleeding of the nose,
mouth, &c. ; we feared very much that he had burst a blood vessel. This,
together with a dysentery, which he had been troubled with some time, ren-
dered him 80 excessively weak, that he could not move a step. We were
greatly affected at this misfortune, and agreed to convey him to the next house
we should meet. Fortunately the village alluded to by our landlady, when
we arrived at her house, was in sight : the view of it gave our sick friend fresh
courage ; but wc were apprehensive it was too large ; however, we were
resolved at all events, to procure him a lodging there ; and, if we perceived
any danger, to decamp instantly.

About half past eleven, we arrived at the village ; it proved to be far

inferior to what we had expected. Mr. A went into a public house to

reconnoitre, and to enquire if our friend c«uld be supplied : he returned shortly,
said he had succeeded, and assured us, from every appearance, that he imag-
ined there was not the smallest risk attending our remaining there for the
night, and even the next day. We wished very much to continue if possible
together ; indeed, from their very great attention to me, when scarcely able to
move, I was determined not to desert or abandon any of them, that might be
indisposed, unless impelled by the greatest necessity. We accordingly agreed
to remain with our friend, sincerely hoping that he might, by the next night,
recruit a little strength. The bleeding had ceased, which was a great deal in
his favor : we accordingly entered the public house, the sick gentleman and
myself last. We were very civilly received by the landlord, who was a young
decent man ; he shewed us into a nice, clean back room, where we had beds
each : he assured us we were perfectly safe with him. — " I have been situated
in a similar manner once myself," said he, " and I shall ever have a fellow
feeling for others : when I quitted the army as a conscript, I travelled several
hundred miles by night, and concealed myself in woods in the day time."
We gave him nods of approbation, had some refreshment, found our friend
was already a little better, and each retired (happy as any creature could be)
to his bed. Wy God! what a paradise! It is not in my power to express,
or to give any idea of the comfort and happiness I felt at being once more in
a comfortable bed ; every thing neat and clean about me. This was our
thirteenth night, without stripping or resting, except the preceding one in the
hay-loft. I need not observe, that we remained in bed most part of the next
day.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 207

Friday, September 11., 1807. Being under no apprehension ; and the land-
lord, from the observations made by him on our arrival, being also aware
that we travelled by night, made us perfectly reconciled. At dusk we paid
our bill with gratitude ; took leave of our kind host and proceeded. Esse],
greatly refreshed ; we found ourselves particularly strong and well, from the
last night's repose. This night was exceedingly dark, and we had a great
number of ploughed fields to march through, which fatigued our poor friead
greatly ; we were frequently under the necessity of resting and waiting for
him during the night.

Saturday, September 12., 1807. At day-light, it began raining incessantly.
We were now very near a small village — our late success made us more bold
than we were at our first setting out, and having no wood to shelter us, we
resolved to go into the village : found it very well calculated for us. Got
admitted into a public house, where, after procuring a little refreshment, we
requested to be allowed to lie down somewhere to rest a little, expecting to be
shown into a hay loft : but were agreeably surprised ; for our good old land-
lady put sheets on the only two beds she had, and told us we might rest our-
selves on them until night; we perceived that she also supposed we were
conscripts. She also got Mr. Essel something warm, and appeared very
attentive. At dusk, as usual, we paid: the good dame, and began our march —
poor Essel complained a good deal, and my feet began to swell greatly ;
although they did not pain me, I feared some bad consequence from their
swelling. About 10, our friend declared that he could not move a step further,
consequently, we sat down to allow him time to rest a little. We were greatly
mortified at this disaster, and did not know how to act, and were certain if
he continued thus indisposed, we should be an immense time before we
arrived at our destined spot. He began himself to think he should be obliged
to stop at some house, and had therefore better let us proceed, as he clearly
saw the risk we ran in approaching houses, villages, &c. but this was repug-
nant to our feelings; we agreed therefore to wait with him a day or two
longer, to see if he should improve ; but were greatly at a loss where to take
him for the night; we were thus meditating, when we were joined by a man
going exactly our road ; he saluted us very kindly, expressed some so rrow at
seeing our comrade ill, informed us he was a baker by trade, then returning
from whence he had been at work the whole week, to his little family, in a
village about two miles further on : his wife had recently died, and had left
him three orphans ; he had two beds, which should be prepared for us, and he
would procure us every thing we might want for the night. The village was
small, and he hinted that there was no danger whatever in entering it. He
took us to be what the others had imagined. We accepted of his kind offer ;
and returned thanks to Divine Providence for its bounty and goodness, in thus
sending such a person in our way. We arrived at this poor man's dwelling ;
he made a good fire for us : ordered his children to get up and prepare th«
beds for our reception, when they retired into a loft themselves. We found
ourselves particularly safe with this poor fellow; got well warmed, and retired
to bed. He procured us every thing we wanted the next day.

Sunday, September 1.3., 1807. Agreeably to promise, we waited until dusk,
and paid him handsomely for his trouble : he escorted us a mile or two oh our
road, and took his leave, full of gratitude, and very much pleased. We were
much indebted to this man for his attention and civility ; our companion
found himself a little better, and in tolerably good spirits. About 11, we
passed close in sight of Bapaume, where I had been about three years before.

Monday, September 14th, 1807, At a little before day-light, we entered a
wood, and found a convenient place to conceal ourselves. We conjectured
we were about five leagues from Arras. At about eleven, we were alarnnid

208 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'sfllEN.

with the noise and whistling of a fowler with a dog, and in a few minutes
we heard the report of his piece : the shot rattled through the bushes in which
we lay, and a partridge perched close to us. This circumstance alarmed us
prodigiously, we could hear the man and dog advancing towards the very
spot. To move would have been imprudent; since he was so very close, that
it was impossible to avoid being discovered. We waited the event, without
the smallest hope of escaping from being seen — the dog advanced — flushed
the partridge nearly at our feet — the fowler close to us : fortunately the bird
took an opposite direction to where we remained concealed, and the master
and dog followed : and in a few minutes relieved us from the consternation
they had thrown us into.

This was the second very providential escape we had from a fowler or
poacher: it is not in my power to give the reader a just idea of our feelings;
they are much easier conceived than described : since they were literally
incident to our nature on such occasions, I shall decline any further explana-
tion of them.

At the usual hour, we commenced our peregrination, and were happy to
find that our sick friend was fast improving. We walked a great distance
this night, to endeavour to make up for the number of times we had been
obliged to halt, and this exertion was very near proving dangerous. At day-
light, Tuesday, September 15th, 1807, we found ourselves in an open plain :
two or three villages were in sight, but not the least appearance of a wood.
We were determined, as our comrade found himself much better, not to
approach any of those places : accordingly, we proceeded forward, avoiding
them as much as possible. We perceived, when we bad passed the first, a
shrubbery, or young wood, adjoining the second ; advanced quickly, and
entered at a part most remote from the village; it proved to be a nursery,
and very thin : however, after searching some time, we discovered a toler-
ably good place, where we remained until the usual time to make a sortie,
about 11. As we were passing a small village, excessively thirsty, and not
being able to discover any watering place, we agreed to border close,Jn hopes
of being able to procure some water at one of the wells, with which these
villages abound. Messrs. A. and our sick comrade, were employed in getting
some, while Mr. Tutliill and myself retired to a small distance, under cover
of a quick-set hedge : two women and a man passed close by us ; the women
continued to walk on, but the latter halted, and turned on his heel — I was
next to him; he eyed me closely, and exclaimed, Vous etes Anglois ! to which
I replied, Je suis aussi bon Francois, que vous je I'espere— the only time iu
the whole course of my life that I had felt afraid to acknowledge my country ;
— but since that period, I have been frequently under the necessity of being
of different countries, and of assuming difterent names. The women hearing
the conversation, called to the fellow, "to come along, and mind his own
business;" he appeared to wish to continue; but, upon their repeatedly
calling to him, he parted. Had we not been contiguous to a house, his
curiosity might iiave proved of a very disagreeable nature to him. Having
been joined by our companions, we proceeded. At the break of day, Wed-
nesday, September 16., 1807, we got into an excellent thick wood, and found
a material change in the weather, as we advanced to the northward. Some-
times a sort of grey frost, which made us extremely cold, before the rising of
the sun. Nor could we, at all times, receive the benefit of that heavenly
body until noon, owing to the thickness of the part of the wood that we were
(when practicable) obliged to occupy : here we found abundance of filberts }
we filled our pockets with them, and felt particularly happy at succeeding thus
far. This was the last wood we expected to inhabit, prior to our seeing the
sea-coast ; and we were, at times, replete with the idea of its being the last

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 209

night we should be in the land of tyrants. At the usual time we commenced
our route, and left the town of St. Paul, about two miles on our left hand
side. At about 10, our progress was impeded by the river Canche : after
examining it in several directions without success, we agreed to send Mr. A^
to a farm house, hard by, to inquire the nearest place that we could cross;
he returned in a few minutes with one of the farmer's men, who had been
desired to direct him, and assured us the people were extremely civil. It
appeared to him to be a good place to get a supply of provisions— we were
excessively hungry— and as the passage across the river was immediately at
the end of the farm house, and as they had already discovered our number;
we mutually consented to put the farmer's hospitality to the test, and, if
possible, procure a supply. We advanced with the man, who shewed us in,
were very kindly received by the master of the house, and conducted into a
decent back room. The kitchen, when we first entered, was full of peasantry,
at supper; it appeared that his harvest had been that day finished, and that
he was giving his labourers a supper on the occasion : an old custom in that
part of the country. Nothing could surpass the attention and goodness of this
man; he supplied us with every thing his house could afford; it is certain, he
took us for Frenchmen, and conscripts ; as he would not accept of any pay-
ment, we made the servant that attended a present, and took our leave of
this good man, full of gratitude for his kindness.

We now conjectured that we were not more than seven leagues from
Estaples, and as we were all in tolerably good spirits, even Mr. Essel, we
determined to march that distance before day-light ; therefore set out at a
quick pace. Passed Hesdin, about midnight, at a very respectful distance.
Thursday, September 17th, and at day-light, to our great mortification, we
found ourselves at least three leagues from our intended place: the distance
being much more than we supposed, on quitting the farmer's house.

A bourg, called Neuville, lay immediately in our track, without our having
any means of avoiding it, on account of the serpentine course of the river.
No wood, nor place to shelter us, in sight — a most critical situation — no alter-
native but to pass this town ; we, therefore, pushed forward to get through,
before many of the inhabitants were up, which we happily accomplished.
However, we found the road was getting too populous, after we had advanced
a little ; consequently, as soon as we possibly could, we struck across the
fields — no appearance of any wood — several people moving in different
directions; and, among others, military men. We resolved to go into a
small village contiguous, imagining that it would be less dangerous than to
remain straying and wandering in open fields. We arrived about eight
o' clock at a hut in the village ; aveiding a public hou&e, as there are in
general police officers or gens d'armes lurking about such places, when in the
vicinity of large towns ; and we were at this moment surrounded by dangerous
places ; viz. Montreuil, Estaples, and in the route to Boulogne, which was
about ten or twelve leagues distant. We asked the inhabitants if they could
supply us with breakfast ; they replied, yes, they would get us some milk
soup and bread. We approved of this repast very much, and, after paying
them, we requested they would have the goodness to allow us to repose our-
selves for a few hours, in some convenient place : this they refused, hinting,
that they suspected we were deserters from the camp at Boulogne. We
assured them, upon our words of honor, they were very much mistaken —
that, on the contrary, we were going that way, but were so very much
fatigued, and having a sick comiade, we wanted a little rest ; after impor-
tuning them a long time, and promising to reward them, they allowed us to go
into a barn-loft, full of straw ; we were particularly obliged to them, and
perfectly contented with this apartment; but when about settled, and each

VOL. VI. — 1835. CC

210 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

corered over with straw, to our great mortification, and annoyance, the owner
came, having repented of his granting permission to enter it, and insisted upon
our instantly quitting his premises ; all rhetoric with this fellow was in vain ;
we were obliged to quit our habitation about eleven o' clock, and march
towards another more respectable village. We advanced now boldly, verify-
ing the old proverb, that " necessity has no law." We inqqired of a shepherd,
on entering the village, if he could direct us to a public house, and he pointed
us out one. We advanced, but with little hopes of escaping from being disco-
vered : however, we determined to call for a private room, the moment we
arrived at the cabaret : being in hopes (if we could avoid police officers in
passing to a private apartment) we might stand a chance to remain unnoticed
until night. We succeeded in being supplied with some refreshment, and
were provided with a suitable apartment immediately.

The only person in the house was a girl, about 18 years of age : she made
ns a comfortable fire, and arranged two beds that were in the room, for us to
rest a little, if we wished. We pretended to be quite careless, (seeing there
was no danger), and asked her were her father and mother were { She
replied, the former was watching sheep outside of the village: the latter was
gone to Estaples. We found, by the description the daughter gave of him,
that our landlord was the very man who directed us there. She asked us if
we were not conscripts going to the camp near Boulogne? We answered in
the affirmative, and told her to be particular in preventing any person
whatever from coming into our room, as we had a few affairs to settle. She
promised she would— informed us there was then a gen d'arme, in peasant's
attire, in the kitchen, who had just come from Boulogne, with a party of
people, to procure forage for the gens d'armes' horses quartered there. We
informed her, we had not the least desire to see any body, except her father,
with whom we wished to have some conversation. She promised to send for
him, as soon as her guest in the kitchen had quitted. I must confess, I did
not much approve of this fellow's being under the same roof with us ; we
were all a little uneasy. However, he soon parted ; the girl sent for her
father, and the mother also returned.

We were in great hopes, that as these were very poor people, we might be
able to procure a boat, through their acquaintance with some fishermen on
the coast, and the influence of a few louis d'ors: convinced that nothing could
be accomplished without this all-powerful metal, each began to search in the
different parts of his garment, for his quantum. We had been obliged to take
the precaution of stitching it in the seams, &c., to prevent losing it in case of
being arrested. To our great sorrow, Mr. Essel discovered, that his money,
to the amount of £45., had slipped out of a pad made for the purpose,
which he had kept in his neck-kerchief; nor could he recollect having untied
it, but once, since we set out, and that was at the baker's cottage, where he
suspected he had left it. This poor fellow appeared to be an honest kind of
man, and as I before observed, behaved excessively kind to us : the loss was
to us, at that moment, very considerable, but not irreparable, as we still had
a tolerably good sum, and two gold watches : sufficient, as we trusted, to
inspire the shepherd, and induce him to assist us ; he arrived, and after
taking every feasible means of enjoining secresy, relying upon this fellow's
honesty and good principles, (as we informed him) we disclosed our situation,
who we were, &c., and promised to reward him very liberally, provided be
could procure us a conveyance across the Channel. We were certain (as we
observed), that he must have a number of sea-faring acquaintances on the
sea coast ; and we would make it well worth their trouble. He hesitated very
much at first; but having shown him a purse, and repeating our promises of
reward, he assured us he would try every possible means ; and that, at all

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 211

events, he declared we were perfectly safe under his roof, and he would pro-
ceed to see what he could accomplish. We were greatly elated, and were
almost certain of succeeding, from his not raising any obstacles. Our anxiety
for this fellow's return is not to be described ; every individual that passed
appeared to be some one that he had sent, or was about to bring, to agree
with us for our passage. The much-wished-for moment at length arrived.
The old shepherd, with a demure countenance, opened our door, and having
closed it again with the utmost caution, began to inform us, that all his
searches to procure a boat had been fruitless ; that the fishermen all along
the coast were obliged to bring their boats to Estaples, and lay them up there
whence they dared not move, without a passport from the commandant of the
town, and a soldier, as a guard, in each boat, to prevent their having com-
munication with the English cruisers, or going without the limits. They were
under the necessity of going out and returning in the day-time only : he added,
that we could riot remain in his house any longer than the dusk of the evening ;
that he was obliged to return an account to the mayor of the village, of every
stranger that might be in his house after dark ; taking their passports at the
same time for the mayor's inspection : and he concluded by observing, with
a grave face, lifting his hat, and scratching his head, " I hope, gentlemen,
you will reward me for my pains, and for keeping counsel." This relation of
the wretched animal was so unexpected, and so contrary from what we had
every reason to hope from his previous promises, that we were absolutely
confounded. We stood amazed : staring at one another, and could not help
observing, that it was the fault of his better half, who appeared to be a bitter,
detestable creature. She, no doubt, had been consulted ; and her sour looks
and conduct upon all occasions, convinced us our opinion was well founded.
Having nothing to expect from this good couple, we paid them for every
thing in a very handsome manner, and at daik departed from them : they
repeatedly threatened to bring the mayor to us, if we remained a moment
longer ; but all their threats were in vain, we were resolved not to move un-
til dark, least we might have been arrested, or some plot have been laid by
the inhospitable pair. We were now puzzled to know how to act, and ima-
gined that the account given, with respect to the fishing boats, was partly
true. Sometimes we supposed it would be better to proceed towards Rotter-
dam ; at others we thought of crossing the Canche, and directing our course to-
wards St. Vallery ; but at last we all accorded unanimously to cross the river,
as the safest method for that night, and then proceed to some villages that
were close down on the sea coast. We were thus consulting, when the shep-
herd's daughter appeared, and told us, that her father had sent her to show
us a house, where we were certain of finding a person that would be of
service to us, and who would put us across the river, which was by far the
safest side. We thanked the girl, who appeared the whole evening very-
much affected at the conduct of her parents; and she returned, begging us
not to mention, at this house, who had directed us there, which, of course,
wc promised, and performed.

To he continued.

212

THERESA ABRUZZI.

Concluded from page 192.

The spirit that had borne her through this cruel attack faded
with the disappearance of Castel-Monti, and a vague dread of
impending evil, not the less painful because it was dark and un-
defined, took possession of her imagination. In that utter des-
pondency of soul which so often follows strong excitement, she
wandered into the garden ; but the balmy gale of evening passed
vainly over her fevered brow; and, abandoning herself to the
indulgence of feelings which could not be repressed, she sunk
down on the steps of that temple which had once before seemed
ominous of ill, and wept without restraint. Did then the sus-
picions of the prince point at the real murderer of her father,
and had his features been marked by her attendants? True, as
Petroni, he was unknown to all except Marina, on whose fidelity
she could at all hazards rely. But should he reappear at Man-
tuo, might not the brigand be recognised in the marquis Petroni?
Might not she at last be compelled to stand forward as the public
accuser of one to whom her heart still involuntarily cleaved;
ay, even to pursue him to the death ? A deep sigh disturbed
her meditations: she looked up — Marco stood before her!
That eye, that gaze, rivetted on her countenance in sorrow, in
love, in passionate adoration, could be only his; but the haggard
face, the matted locks, the spare attenuated form, that seemed to
indicate the last stage of suffering nature, bore no trace of liis
former self. She hid her face in agony.

" Leave me, fly, for the love of Heaven ! — This fatal spot will
be your death."

"O might I but die thus," he exclaimed, gazing wildly on her,
'* I were blest indeed. But it must not be, I came but to look
on you once more ere I yielded up this miserable being : your
pardon I dare not ask."

" Oh yes, yes ! I do forgive you freely, and from my soul :
yet oh, if yoii would not see me expire at your feet, begone !
already, perhaps, your feet are tracked. Ha, a noise 1 be speedy
for your life "

He heard it not, or if he heard, disregarded it; his soul
seemed to have drunk in that sweet forgiveness, and to be venting
its transports in humble praise and gratitude to Heaven. At
this moment, the prince of Castel-Monti, at the head of her

THERESA ABRUZZI. 213

servants, rushed into the temple. "It is he," they allexclaimed,
as they rushed forward to seize him ; but Theresa, by a sudden
impulse, which the intense love of woman could alone have
inspired, threw herself before him, and, by gestures more impas-
sioned than the words which died on her lips, commanded them
to desist.

" You know not what you do, lady,'^ exclaimed the prince :
"it is the assassin of your father ! ^^

" I will avouch him to be the murderer of my master I " cried
one of the servants, coming forward.

" And if my eyes deceive me not," said Castel-Monti, with a
sneer of exulting malice, which he could not repress, " in that
murderer I behold the marquis Pecroni the bethrothed of his
daughter.''

Theresa, pale, cold as marble, bowed her head, but stirred not.

**Lady, his touch is contamination," continued the prince;
" leave us to deal with him as he merits. The murder of thy
father can only be expiated by the blood of his assassin."

" Oh fatal haste ! " slowly murmured Theresa, disregarding
the serpent glance of the prince and the astonished looks of her
own domestics. " Cruel Marco, why fled you not?"

" I came but to die, Theresa ; and thy forgiveness has severed
the last link that bound me to life : yet Petroni must not die a
felon's death. Pardon, sweet excellence!" he continued, draw-
ing a stiletto from his belt.

" No, no 1 " she exclaimed, too well interpreting his fatal
purpose, yet powerless to prevent it : " not so, Marco I — My
life, my fortune, — I will save you yet ! "

He looked on her with eyes that beamed love, gratitude,
almost exultation, as he buried the fatal weapon in his heart.
Even as he fell dead at her feet, he caught at her upraised hand,
and attempted to press it to his lips. Enraged at the sight, the
prince snatched it from his grasp ; alas ! it fell powerless from
his own ! — Theresa Abruzzi had ceased to live !

214

FOSSILS.
Continued from page 183.

Now I beg to be allowed to offer a few suggestions on
the above queries. If the present continents, before
the last deluge, formed the bed of the ocean, as Cuvier
supposes, we are unable to account for the occur-
rence of bones of animals in diluvial soil, caves, &;c.,
nor is it consistent to imagine that they were con-
veyed to their present situations from what is now
the bottom of the sea : since the Kirkdale cave, and
other circumstances, afford evidence that hyaenas
and other rapacious beasts enjoyed dominion m the
very country where their remains are now found.
We are likewise, I think, equally prohibited from
supposing that the races of animals at present inha-
biting any given continent or portion of the earth,
were derived from some other continent, at the time
when it is believed by the abettors of this idea,
the flood, after laying waste this certain portion of
the earth retired, and left dry the space which inter-
vened betwixt it and the other, and so permitted a
ready passage for the creatures belonging to the
latter country, because, if on this principle Asia
contributed her productions to Europe and the most
northern parts of America, and if Africa then gave up
her animals to Asia, and the New World hers to Af-
rica ; the New World is thus left destitute and would
be unprovided for, except at the expense of some
other region : moreover it is difficult to conceive that
these migrations should comprise every individual of
every species, and indeed, with regard to the lower
animals and plants, migration is impossible. It is
contrary to natural laws for animals to adopt a new
and permanent residence, at the expense of so trouble-
some a journey, and at the risk of meeting with food
and climate not adapted to their economies. If the
migration were only partial : if some of each species
remained, we should then find their remains in the
diluvial stratum, a circumstance which has never
yet occurred, at least with a few very doubtful ex-

FOSSILS. 215

ceptions; on the other hand, although the now
existing animals of one country are not found fossil-
ized in another; yet fossil animals, and these refer-
able to one epoch, are found, we believe, in all coun-
tries known ; arguments which seem to prove that,
as a general rule, every country, as at the present
period, possessed animals peculiar to itself, and that
they perished where they had lived ; and, lastly, that
as the present tribes of animals are no where found in
a fossil state, and as we cannot comprehend how the
whole earth was supplied with its present creatures
from one focus. Mount Ararat, there must have been
a re-creation of organised beings in separate por-
tions of the world since the time of the great deluge.
Irrespectively of any considerations connected with
fossils, I remember that I have arrived at the same
conclusion, in my paper on the " Geography of Ani-
mals," before published. If the whole of organic
nature were situated on a vast continent, we need
not doubt but that each plant and animal would soon
take up a residence suited to its peculiar nature and
wants : but how shall we understand the reason that
islands, and parts of the earth inaccessible to all
creatures but man, should be also populated with
animals, and these possessing forms different from
those of the Fauna of the adjoining continent. The
naturalist need not here be reminded of the well-
known examples of this fact. Nor need we hesitate
to give our ready assent to the proposition of some
authors, — that former races of animals were gov-
erned by laws of geographical distribution — that
they had their appointed limits equally with those
of the present day ; — although it were to be wished
that the number of facts in support of this were
multiplied. The sum of all we know, respecting
the Mosaic Deluge, seems to be, that it overspread
the whole earth, presenting a continuous sheet of
waters, and that on its subsidence, the ocean as-
sumed a different position to that it previously
occupied — a conclusion gathered from the deficiency

216 FOSSILS.

of fossil human bones, and the assumption, that the
land occupied by the antediluvians, now constitutes
a part of the bed of the ocean.

Fleming, an authority of some consequence, and
whose opinions are entitled to some consideration,
dissents from the usual opinions, and supposes that
the ancient inhabitants of this Island (and I suppose
of other countries also), were the means of extir-
pating by the chase several species of animals, which
others had agreed in considering of antediluvian
origin. Most unquestionably there were several
animals formerly resident here, which have disap-
peared from the cause assigned, although the same
cause has failed as yet to remove them from other
countries, to which their geographical limits extend.
The brown bear, wolf, and boar, are examples, but
we should by no means class their relics with those
of the hysena, rhinoceros, and wolf, of the antedi-
luvian age. In regard of the great deluge, fossils
are said to be " antediluvial," " diluvial," and " post-
diluvial," or "alluvial." Now, speaking in very
general terms, for the purpose of offering the means
of distinguishing between these ; we might say that
the first kind are imbedded in more or less solid
strata, and are greatly altered in their properties, so
as to be assimilated to the qualities of the containing
bed — that the second kind approximate to the forms
of existing animals and are loosely contained in
"diluvium," a soil which by its containing shells
analogous to recent species—pebbles, kc, evidences
in itself an origin from a deluge — that the third kind
of fossils are the remains of animals of the present
day, which have died in the course of nature, or by
the persecutions of man ; and are found deposited
in superficial formations, under peat, or beneath the
washings from oveiflowing rivers. If the distinc-
tions here drawn shall be allowed to be true, as
general rules, then the impropriety of leferring the
inmates of the "diluvium," to two ages — that in
which the deluge rendered extinct all existing

FOSSILS.

217

creatures, and that, when the aborigines, and ancient
inhabitants of our own country for example, pursued
a system of extirpation on certain animals, will be
likewise conceded. I shall not now detain the
reader with further arguments, in refutation of Flem-
ing's ideas ; but I shall be glad to do so, if oppor-
tunity offers, in the discussion which I venture to
hope may be eUcited by these remarks.

Let us now turn to our proposed theme — the
fossils of this neighbourhood. Let us see to what
conclusions we are permitted to arrive, in regard
of their age and manner of being deposited. The
lime-rocks of Plymouth have been determined to
belong to the transition class, that in which, as we
have said, remains of the lowest tribes should be and
are detected. This stratum is supposed to have been
the first deposited after the primaeval creation ; the
element containing this rudimental creation must
either have precipitated the lime, and thus encrusted
the animals ; or else a deluge, exerting its influence
on the superficies of the earth, and disturbing the
waters and their contents, rendered the whole into a
state of mud, which subsequently assumed its present
hardened appearance. The use of indulging in such
problems is very questionable. It appears to me,
who do not pretend to know anything of the details
of geology, that our slate is referable both to the
primitive, and transition classes. The primitive slate
forms the bed on which our limestone rests, and it
is at this point that the fossils are common to both
rocks, a circumstance determined perhaps at the
time of deposit of the latter, rather than by the
former being a transition formation : our transition
slate contains, as already announced, fossil plants
and zoophytes ; since that statement I have pro-
cured, from a variety of situations, shells, and other
remains of this class. Some doubts have been enter-
tained whether transition rocks possess remains of
animals so far advanced in the scale as fishes. "^This
we have shewn to be the case at Plymouth ; the

VOL. VI. — 1835. DD

218 FOSSILS.

observation, however, to that effect is incorrectly
placed in the paragraph concerning limestone fossils,
for the Jenny Cliff specimen occurs in clay-slate
where that substance passes into greywacke. Still
the table remains correct, as regards this fossil, for,
besides its occurrence in clay-slate, it has been known
to occur in limestone.

The different strata of the earth are stated to be
received one into, or upon, another; and, accord-
ingly, the sandstone mentioned by Mr. Henneh, as
exhibiting specimens of shells, (fee, we may conclude
to have been deposited in the lap of the limestone ;
and we do not find any sandstone classed among
the transition formations, so that we may fairly
argue that, in one instance, the secondary rocks
contribute something to our list of fossils. Lastly,
let us pass on to the tertiary depositions, in which
the diluvial clay yields so abundant, and interesting
a harvest ; and here, whilst the mind regards the
relics of past ages, which, offering unequivocal and
substantial testimony to the event of a great deluge,
conduct us back about six thousand years ; we
cannot help reflecting on the contrast between
Devonshire, at that period, and as it now exists ;
between the time at which gigantic elephants, huge
rhinoceroses, and ferocious hyaenas held dominion
on our lands ; and that in which scarce anything
but luxuriant vegetation, highly cultivated fields,
domesticated animals, towns constructed with splen-
dour and convenience, and the refinements of society,
meets the eye. When the waters of the deluge over-
whelmed this island, living animals were destroyed
and imbedded in diluvial soil ; the disturbed element
entered the cavities of rocks, carrying with it soil,
pebbles, sand, carcases of animals, and so forth.
Certain of these cavities, having already been the
dens of carnivorous animals, contained the refuse of
their prey, and also the remains of individuals of
their own species, which had perished in the course
of nature, or such as through youth had become the

FOSSILS. 219

victims of superior strength. It has thus been con-
cluded that, of the English caves containing animal
remains, there are two kinds — one in which the
gnawed, and fractured bones of animals, killed
before the flood, are now found ; and another, in
which more or less perfect skeletons, and single
bones of animals in a tolerably complete state are
observed. Caves of this last description correspond,
in the nature of their contents, with diluvial deposits
in other counties ; from which entire bones of the
same species of animals as have been found in both
kinds of caves have been collected. If such a dis-
tinction be admissible; our neighbourhood fur-
nishes examples of each description. Professor
Buckland was the first person who established, by
logical deduction, the fact, of caves having been
occupied before the flood by carnivorous animals,
and employed as dens, in which they devoured their
prey ; his reasonings we deem conclusive, and, taking
them as the standard by which to judge of other in-
stances, we are led to believe that the Oreston caves,
on the one hand, exhibit no proofs of having been
used as dens ; while, on the other, the Yealm Bridge
cave displays unerring marks in the affirmative.
The celebrated Kirkdale cave was that from which
the Professor drew his conclusions ; the bones were
in fragments, as if splintered by carnivorous teeth,
gnawed, their extremities, which are softest and
most nutritious, gone, small bones perfect, teeth
more numerous than remains of animals — " grascum
album" abundant, (but this could be equally derived
from dead bodfes) certain fragments highly polished
on one side, as if by the constant passage of hyaena's
feet over them ; hysena's bones broken and gnawed
equally with others ; an hyaena's skull exhibiting
marks of having been within the gripe of another of
these creatures, but healed by a process of nature ;
certain young bones and teeth, bones and teeth of
very old individuals, such as we may suppose retired
to their dens to die, or yielded themselves up, like

590 FOSSILS.

the young ones, to superior power. I have already
mentioned that several of these same appearances
were met with in the newly discovered cave, and
indeed, whilst these two caves differed only, in the
latter being deficient in remains of the tiger, bear,
elephant, hippopotamus, weasel, (and these might
have been found, perhaps, if the cave had been
sooner examined) and in some trifling particulars ;
they correspond in other points, with great nicety.

The bones of the rat and mouse, for instance,
which, in my former paper, I have inadvertently
stated to have been found under the stalagmite,
should rather have been mentioned as being placed
between layers of that substance, as at the Kirkdale
cave ; a circumstance implying that they are not of
the same age as the bones buried in the clay under
the callus. The animal I have named polecat pro-
ved, on closer examination of some bones of the
skull, since procured, to have been nearly twice the
size of our *' Mustek putorius," and I suggest that
they are the remains of an animal allied to the
" Mustek gulo." With regard to bones of the large
animals in the cave, we may suppose they were con-
veyed there, whilst recent, by the hyaenas, and
wolves, or else drifted in by the diluvial waters, with
the clay. In examining, very lately, some rubbish,
which had been removed from the cave, and employed
in making a pathway, I was fortunate enough to make
three additions to the hst of animals, a bird, the deer
and pig — which last, with the hippopotamus from
Oreston, which I have heard of, smce writing my
first paper, and the bear, by accidentopiitted, should
be appended to the table, and appropriate alterations
should be Ukewise made where I have drawn the
differences in contents, between the two caves.

The presence of helices in the clay shews that ani-
mals of that kind were cotemporary with the antedi-
luvian quadrupeds : my specimens correspond best
with that variety of H. nemoralisy which has a white
peristome (H, hortensis, Flem,) : but we do not

FOSSILS. 221

suppose that it is specifically the same with any ex-
isting shell ; but like the wolf, fox, horse, &:c., of
the same date, bear only a striking similitude without
being identically the same as our present animals of
those names. With regard to the Oreston caves
being of a kind different to that now alluded to, it
will be superfluous to produce all the arguments in
proof: suffice it that they are of an opposite ten-
dency to those just now enumerated. We must
however remark, that it is Dr. Buckland's opinion,
that the animals, whose remains have been found
here, were destroyed by falling into these fissures
whilst hunted, in the case of the ox, horse, &c., and
whilst hunting, as in the case of the tiger or hysena ;
that their carcases were deposited for the time, on
some projecting ledge of rock, and were subsequently
conveyed at the time of the flood deeper into the
hollows : but the same flood which drifted them,
drifted also blocks of limestone, pebbles, and solitary
bones into the same situations. I think it is a gen-
eral rule for caves of this class, having openings
from above, to present, in these passages, irregular
blocks of stone ; at least such was the case at Ores-
ton, and I have observed it in three instances at
Yealmpton. Mr. Henneh states that, in the last
discovery of bones at Oreston, none of the very large
animals were observed ; and Dr. Buckland, also, in
his work, does not enumerate the elephant and
hippopotamus ; but I have seen teeth of both these,
and likewise fragments of the skeleton of the rhin-
oceros, from thence, procured in 1822. All these
I conceive may have been washed down with the
diluvial clay. I have contributed a good set of
bones, from the Yealm Bridge cave, to the Museum
of Mr. P. F. Bellamy, surgeon, a gentleman of
Plymouth, who will be glad to show them to persons
interested in such pursuits.

Let it be understood, that, in making the above
remarks on the deluge, we are anxious to stand
acquitted of the intention to inculcate a spark of

222 FOSSILS.

irreligion; but we are firmly persuaded that our
views ought to have no such tendency ; we do not
call in question religion, but the right of allegorical
and ambiguous compositions to rank as truth, and
as guides in geological investigations ; but anxious
as we are for this, we are still more solicitous to be
thought the advocates of natural science, and of the
cause of truth, against ignorance, prejudice, and
error.

Before concluding this paper, I wish to state the
results of some experiments, made with the view of
ascertaining the comparative difference between these
fossil bones and bones of ordinary occurrence. I
have before stated that they had a very dry ap-
pearance, and that they absorbed moisture with
rapidity. What then determines their absorbent
property ? In order to reply to this, I proceeded to
the experiment of freeing bone of its earthy portions,
by means of muriatic acid, being confident that the
proportion of matter thus obtained, would be such
as to furnish an explanation. I selected a piece
of fossil bone, from the Yealm Bridge Cave,
and another piece of the same weight from a
bone which had lain exposed in the high-road,
perhaps for many months. These I put macera-
ting in diluted muriatic acid, in separate glass
vessels ; as soon as the fossil bone was immersed,
violent and rapid action was observable, carbonic
acid gas being extricated in abundance ; gradual
corrosion, or ratlier a gradual removal of the earthy
portions, proceeded ; and, in the space of seven hours
it was reduced to a spongy, fiocculent mass, which,
having now become lighter than the fluid, rose to
the surface, putting on the appearance of a mere
pellicle. This having been collected ; weighed
eleven grains. In the other vessel, a quiet and de-
liberate escape of gas took place. In the space of
seven hours, the earthy portions had been removed
only to one half of the depth of the piece, and, after
the process was complete, it remained at the bottom,

FOSSILS. 223

and retained the original form of the immersed frag-
ment. It was fibrous, soft, highly flexible, and
elastic, and weighed eighteen grains. The pieces
selected for experiment, weighed each a half-drachm.
By adding sulphuric acid to the liquor, after remov-
ing the masses of animal matter from both vessels,
I obtained precipitates of sulphate of hme. These
I weighed and found that they very nearly corres-
ponded. The difference therefore in composition,
between these two fragments, depends on one having
a larger share of animal matter than the other : per-
haps, also, an infiltration of carbonate of lime, derived
from the stalagmite, had to a certain extent taken
place, which, added to the diminished proportion of
animal substance in the fossil piece, would account
for the more abundant, more rapid, and readier
escape of gas. I am ready to confess, that this
process which has been repeated, was performed
with no great nicety, no elaborate investigations,
and no great chemical knowledge and skill, but
still the general results are such as to prove the truth
of the conclusions I had before arrived at : at least
I have stated, that the fossil bones had lost their
animal matter, and as I judged from their absorb-
ent nature, without having tried any experiments, I
may be forgiven for not having qualified the remark.

Philophysicus.
Devonport.

224

CLIMBING A ROCK IN FLAT ISLAND.

I HAD already spent about three weeks in Flat Island, and had
explored every corner of my dominions several times over, with
the proud consciousness of being monarch of all I surveyed.
In the whole circuit there was not a rock or shrub with which I
was not familiar, not a hare's form or gannet's nest to which I
could not almost have approached blindfold. Within about half
a mile up the coast from our little harbour, however, a tall insu-
lated rock, called the Sugar Loaf, shot up in solitary stateliness
sheer out of the water. On this rock I had never yet set foot,
and for the purpose of changing the scene, I determined one day
to explore it, hoping at the same time to find a sufficient number
of eggs among its crannies to reward my labour. Accordingly,
having left a few look-outs properly stationed, with orders to fire
a musket should any vessel be seen nearing the island, I manned
the galley, with a couple of men, and taking Wolfe as my atten-
dant, set forward on my expedition.

It was a lovely morning for a pleasure excursion. The breeze
was light, the water gently rippled, and a glorious tropic sun
rode high in the clear azure of the heavens. Merrily, merrily
went the bark, bounding buoyantly through the harmless waters,
and, ere many minutes had elapsed, we found ourselves under
the lee of the Sugar Loaf. It was a threatening, dark-browed
rock, the lower part of which rose perpendicularly out of the
water, while its summit hung beetling outwards, and nodded
fearfully over our heads. We lay to for a moment to contem-
plate it, and consider how it was possible to ascend to the top.
But never was there rock more forbidding to the climber. Steep,
unbroken, wall-like masses of stone girded its base, while its
brow hung threateningly over the water, seeming, as it were to
dare us to the ascent. A shelving platform of rock about ten
or twelve feet in width, tangled with sea weed, and washed by
the rising and receding waves, seemed to form the foundation of
this massive superstructure. Upon this rock, having backed in
the boat stern foremost, Wolfe and I leaped without much
difficulty; and ordering the men to lie off on their oars till our
return, set forward on out survey.**

In the unbroken fapade of the lofty wall of rock that rose
perpendicularly from the platform where we stood, there was not
a single projecting angle to clasp, nor the smallest crevice into
which the foot of the climber might be inserted. ^Encrusted with

CLIMBING A ROCK IN FLAT ISLAND. 225

limpets, festooned with the tendrils of dark colored sea weed,
and dripping with the spray which ever and anon was thrown
over it by the rising waves, it stood in insurmountable majesty
before us. An ascent at this place being impossible, we passed
onwards along the slippery edge of the weed-tangled platform,
in search of some more accessible spot, nor was it long till we
discovered a narrow zig-zag fissure, scarcely wide enough to
admit the foot, but presenting at various distances, as if the rock
had been rent asunder by some convulsion of nature, small pro-
jecting notches which might be grasped by the hand. To trust
mainly to the strength of our arms, and swing ourselves upwards
by means of these little angles, seemed Our only expedient, so,
without much deliberation, we commenced the ascent, I taking
the lead, and Wolfe following close behind. It was an arduous
undertaking, and as I have often since thought, a very fool-hardy
one. Only now and then, and at considerable distances, could
we find an opportunity of supporting ourselves by our feet, so
that for the most part we had to trust our weight entirely to our
hands, which were not a little lacerated by the sharp edges of the
rock we were obliged to clasp. Nor dared we allow ourselves a
moment's breathing time, during our perilous progress ; for so
loosely were the little knotches on which we depended connected
with the main rock, that had we ventured to hang on them for an
instant, they would probably have been detached by our weight,
and ourselves precipitated to the bottom. Totally out of breath,
with bleeding hands and aching arms, it was not without consi-
derable delight that, after an ascent of about fifty feet, my eyes
came on a level with a small platform of between two and three
feet square, indented, as it were, into the face of the rock. Upon
this, with a single effort, I threw myself, enjoying the prospect of
a few minutes' rest, but scarcely was I securely balanced on my
precarious prop, when I saw Wolfe about a foot lower, hanging
with both hands to a small angular knotch, that seemed shaking
in its infirm socket, as if about to separate from the parent rock.
A single reach of his arm would have placed him on the enviable
platform on which I stood. " For God's sake, Mr. Lascelles,"
he cried, looking up with a face of consternation, "for God's
sake, go on. Sir, or I shall be precipitated to the bottom." *' I
cannot stir an inch further, at present," I replied, " quick, catch
at my foot, and sway yourself up, here is room enough for us
both.'^ Scarcely had I uttered these words, when the knotch on
which my poor comrade hung, broke off, fell with a rumbling
VOL. VI. — 1835. EE

226 CLIMBING A ROCK IN FLAT ISLAND.

noise down the face of the rock, and plunged into the sea. Just
as it gave way, Wolfe, with an effort of desperation, stretched
himself up, and in an instant his brawny hand was clasped round
my ancle. It was a perilous attempt for us both. Uusteadied
by the weight, I staggered, and should certainly have fallen
from my place, had I not held firmly on by a projecting mass
of the rock at my side. Poor Wolfe, in the mean time saw my
danger. "Say the word, Mr. Lascelles," he cried, "and I let
go my hold. Shall I come, or shall I not?" " Come, and be
quick ! '^ was my only reply; and with one strong effort, Wolfe
swung liimself up, and stood at my side. The small ledge of
the rock on which we were now poised, was not, as I have said,
more than two or three feet square ; indeed so narrow was the
space, that we were obliged to clasp each other round the body
to prevent ourselves falling off. On two sides it was walled in
by an adjacent rock, which rose up perpendicularly behind us
to a sufficient height to admit of our standing in a crouching
position, and, then, taking an outward direction, it projected
horizontally towards, and hung over our heads — a black and
craggy canopy. On the other two sides the platform was open,
and the rock dipped sheer down from its edge, till it was lost,
full fifty feet below. Scarcely dared we hazard a look beneath
to where our diminished galley rode buoyantly on the surging
waters, so dizzy and bewildering was tiie prospect.

We stood for some time in silence, for there was something
too appalling in our situations to admit of speech. The wind
whistled and howled among the rents and fissures of the rock ;
the sea leaped and roared fiir beneath, as if eager to engulf us,
and the scared sea-fowl flew screaming, in eddying circles, round
the place where we stood. To have attempted to descend by the
path we had come up would have been madness, and, as for
mounting higher, our progress upwards seemed completely cut
off by the mass of rock that hung threateningly over our heads.
'-'- Have you considered what we ought to do, Mr. Lascelles V
said Wolf, at last ; *' we cannot remain here much longer, I
almost think I feel the rock trembling under us." " I see no-
thing we can do," I replied, " it appears impossible to get either
up or down." " Why, as to getting do\Mi, Sir," said Wolfe,
" that we might manage by a leap, and if we had deep water to
[tlunge into, I would not mind trying it a rope's end. But I
have no notion of jumping on that broad, rocky platform at the
bottoin, and b-iiis; suiiisIkmI to a jelly in the fall." *' Not to be

CLIMBIN(i A ROCK IN FLAT ISLAND. 227

thought of," I replied. " But what do you advise to be done?"
" One thing, sir, I think is clear, there 'sno use remaining on this
cursed point of rock, to be devoured piece-meal by sea gulls and
boobies; so, if we can't go down, we must just determine to go
np, and trust to Providence for finding some easier place of
descent." "Go up!" I replied; '^frorn the place where we
stand, to go up is utterly impossible." " Difficult, Sir," said
Wolfe, "but I do not think impossible. 1 observed this place
from beneath, and am satisfied that the black-looking canopy
over our heads is merely a ledge of the rock jutting out from the
main mass — ^just as the canopy of a pulpit. Sir, juts out from the
wall of a church. At least so it seemed to me from below ; and
I think if we could once get on the top of it, we might manage
to ascend still higher." " i/ we could get upon the top of
it," said I ; " but how is that to be done ? " ^* I can't tell you
how it is to be done, sir, said Wolfe; but I '11 at least show you
how it is to be attempted. Remain you, in the mean time,
where you are, sir; if I succeed I can easily pull you up after
me; if I fall, why, when all 's done, what is it but an end of
Dick Wolfe, who must die one day at any rate ? Farewell, sir,
sliouid we never meet again." "'Tis madness to attempt it,"
I cried. "Stop! for God's sake consider what you do!"
" Never say die while there 's a shot in the locker, sir ; that 's my
maxim; so here goes;" and before I could interfere to prevent
him, he stretched his hands upwards, and, grasping a projecting
part of a rude rock canopy, was in an instant swinging in mid-air
by the arms. Without shifting the position of his hands, but
pulling himself upwards by sheer muscular force, his head and
shoulders were soon hid from my view, while the legs and low-
er part of his body hung dangling over the edge of the rock. It
was a moment of painful suspense to me ; as to whether he was
likely to succeed in his design, or be precipitated to the bottom,
I could not form the slightest conjecture, for not a sound of fear
or hope escaped the gallant fellow's lips. Slowly and gradually,
however, his quivering limbs were drawn upwards, till they en-
tirely disappeared, and the next moment my ears were saluted
from above by a loud and spirit-stirring hurrah ! That he had
succeeded in reaching the top of the ledge which hung frowning
over the place where I stood, I was thus certified ; but how I.
should be able to follow him in so difficult an ascent, still seemed
a mystery. Presently, however, a bare arm was suspended over
the edge of the rock ; the huge, brawny tendons of which seemed

228 CLIMBING A ROCK IN FLAT ISLAND.

almost sufficient to lift the rock itself. At the same time the
voice of Wolfe was heard bellowing from above. " All 's right,
Mr. Lascelles; catch hold of my hand, and trust yourself to me."
** Are you firm ?" I cried out, '* Ay, ay. Sir, as the rock itself."
" Then hold fast, — here goes ;'* and, stretching myself up as far
as I could, I succeeded in grasping him with both my hands
round the wrist. For one moment I was swinging to and fro
in the air; the next I stood in safety beside my trusty companion.
The space we now occupied was considerably larger than that
we had just left; but a tall mass of black rock, yet to be sur-
mounted, frowned threateningly over us. " Follow me Sir,"
said Wolfe; "we must not halt till we get to the top;" and he
forthwith commenced the ascent, I following behind. The rock
here was more craggy and broken than it was below, and af-
forded greater facilities to the climber. Without much difficulty
we succeeded in passing from one ledge to another, till at length,
to our inexpressible joy, we found ourselves on the highest sum-
mit of all; a round, flat space of some fifty or sixty feet in di-
ameter. " Now for a splice of the main brace, Wolfe," said I,
producing a small flask of spirits. " Ay, ay, Sir; here's luck
to us down again ;" and the worthy coxswain quaffed as much
atadraughtas would have sufficed to make most heads unsteady.
Having reached the top, half of our labour was accomplished;
our next anxiety was how we were to reach the bottom. " Had
we not better try the other side of the rock ?" I suggested.
"Never, Sir," said Wolfe ; "it would be utter madness. The
weather side of a rock in these constant winds, becomes brittle
and trustless. The very birds that hover our heads would not
venture to perch on the weather side of the Sugar Loaf. But
here," he continued, " is a place where I think we might venture.
The rock here, sir, you will observe, is shelving and rugged, and
affords some opportunity of clinging by our hands when our
footing is faithless. Shall we try.''" "Certainly," I replied,
**if you advise it." " Then let us strip to the trowsers. Sir; I
am too old a cragsman to trust myself in a difficult descent with
a weight of clothes upon my back. Nothing like a bare foot for
a slippery footing." We stripped accordingly, as he directed,
and having hailed the boat to lie more off, we tossed our clothes
over the precipice in such a direction that they might easily be
picked up beneath. In a few minutes we were prepared to start.
"Now Wolfe," said I, "who goes first?" "I, of course," he re-
plied. "By no means," said I, "in such a situation as ours all

CLIMBING A ROCK IN 1 LAT ISLAND. 229

rank sinks to the ground." " Than, would to God, Sir," said
Wolfe, with a bitter smile— " would to God, Sir, the ground
would sink along with it, and leave us without further ado
to breast the waves of old mother ocean." "But since that 's not
likely to happen," I replied, "we had better settle which of us
shall go first. Come, shall it be a toss-up 1" " As you please
Sir." I gathered up a small piece of flat stone, and wetting it
on one side with my tongue, as I had often done at school,
tossed it twirling up into the air. " Wet or not wet," I cried^
** No wet ! " said Wolfe, and no wet it was ; so the lot to be first
in the perilous decent fell to me. "Warily, warily, sir," said
Wolfe, as I dropped over the edge of the precipice; "never
loosen your hands till your foot is firm." " My foot is firm
now," I replied; *'come along;" but scarcely had I unfastened
my hands from the edge of the rock, in order to allow Wolfe to
follow, than the faithless prop on which I rested began to tremble
beneath me. I tried to clasp some of the protruding angles in
my neighbourhood to save myself — but in vain; my weight was
too much for the stone on which I stood, which speedily
detached itself from the parent rock, and bounded with a loud
crash to the bottom. Never shall I forget the sensations of that
moment. I grasped at every angle I could reach; but all my
efforts could only retard, not stop, my downward progress; and
I was just about to give myself up to my fate, when I found
myself firmly grasped by the hair of the head, and looking up,
I saw Wolfe bending over the rock above me.

With the support of his arm and my own exertions, I suc-
ceeded most unexpectedly in once more reaching the top. "Thank
God !** cried the generous fellow, when I again stood at his side.
**had you fallen Mr. Lascelles, I should never have forgiven myself.
No ; never shall it be said that Richard Wolfe permitted a boy
to precede him when danger was in the question. Come on. Sir,
follow me ; trust to my directions as to placing your feet, and
with God's help I hope we may yet reach the bottom in safety.
" Wolfe," I replied, "I dispute precedenee no longer ; go on — I
follow." With our faces turned towards the rock, and w4th the
utmost possible caution, we again commenced the descent, my
faithful comrade constantly calling out to me as we proceeded —
" Place your feet here, Mr. Lascelles, and here.** At length,
with considerable difiiculty, but in perfect safety, we reached
the bottom. The galley backed into the rock to receive us, and
we had just stepped on board when we were startled by the re-

230 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

port of a musket, we pushed off with all the speed we could;
another shot was fired. They proceeded from the look-outs I
had stationed onshore. "It's a small craft, Sir , steering for
the island," said Wolfe ; " we had better make all speed to be
in time to receive her." " True," I replied ; " let us take to our
oars. Stretch out, men ; pull for your lives!

From the " Dublin Universitij Mtfjn-hir."

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

PROCEEDINGS IN THE A T H E N iE U M.

October 1st. — Mr. Prideaux's Lecture on Operative
Chemistry.

FUEL.

The Lecturer commenced by expressing his regret that these
towns did not participate in the wealth and prosperity accruing
to the country from manufactures ; which he was not disposed
to attribute to deficiency of ingenuity in our population, to scarcity
of materials in our neighbourhood, or to any thing particularly
unfavorable in our position, but rather to the want of attention
to the resources we possess : at least he thought this view of the
subject worth enquiring into. With this view he proposed bringing
before the society the principles of manufactures of various kinds;
with suggestions of what facilities we possess, or have within our
reach. He proposed to do this, himself, so far as concerned
chemical manufactures; and hoped other members would be
found to take up other branches.

The prime movers in chemical manufactures were water and
fire. On water he had already lectured ; fire therefore came next,
and he would commence with the materials used for producing
it, fuel.

The fuel chiefly used in this country is coal, but wood is burnt
in some rural districts, and turf in others — he would first dispose
of the least important.

He then described the turf beds on Dartmoor; and the manner
of cutting and preparing the turf. Its origin he attributed to the
gradual increase of the peat moss; which, decaying very slowly,
swallows up, as it were, the grass and brush-wood which grow
amongst it; which was illustrated by the trunk of a small tree?

PLYIMOUTM INSTITUTION. 231

that had been dug out of the turf beds. The change which the
moss and herbage undergoes in forming turf was shewn, by its
solubility in cold solution of soda. It had become, in great part,
the substance known to chemists by the* name " Ulmine."

Turf was stated to burn slowly, with a low even heat; and to be
particularly suited for processes requiring heat of that character ;
the lecturer suggested the establishment of a small pottery on
the moor, where good clay is found as well as turf.

Turf might also be used for purposes requiring stronger heat;
by reducing it to charcoal ; which is nearly as good as wood
charcoal. He found, good dry Dartmoor turf yield 33 per cent,
of charcoal, on the small scale ; but of this 9 or 10 was ashes ;
leaving 23 or 24 per cent, of pure charcoal. In France, where
they use turf charcoal about the iron mines, they get 40 per cent. ;
but this is on the large scale; and the ashes are probably more
than in Dartmoor turf.

He thought turf charcoal might be employed in the blowing
houses of the tin works; and that it would answer most of the
purposes of wood charcoal, with a little contrivance to dispose of
the ashes.

He then passed to wood, stating that, when fresh hewn, it con-
tained 40 to 50 per cent, of water ; of which, one half dried
away by exposure or stacking. Fire wood might, therefore,
contain about |- of its weight of water; and, beside this, upwards
of a third of its weight of the elements of water, united with
carbon. The carbon amounted to about 37 per cent.; and to
this only was owing the heat produced in the combustion of
wood.

The heaviest woods were the most economical burning ;
because the flames from light wood carry off much of the heat
up the chimney.

Wood contrasts particularly with turf; givhig the most rapid
and unsteady heat of any fuel employed.

The mode of making charcoal was then described ; and the
produce stated to be from 17 to 28- per cent., according to the
method, and the skill of the workmen. Common oak charcoal
was described as a strong, quick fuel ; but much less quick than
the cliarcoal made for gunpowder; which is prepared from light
woods by slow heating, and comes out very light and porous,
takes fire quickly, and is very soon consumed.

He would not suggest any new employment for charcoal, as
our wood was already burning away too fast; but would
recommend turf and lignite charcoal to be used in its stead.

232 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

He next entered upon coal, which was described as of three
classes : — wood coal, flaming coal, and culm or anthracite.

The wood coal pit at Bovey — that field was then described.
Wood coal was a more effective fuel than turf, but still very
inferior to flaming coal. It gave out an offensive smell, and
yielded about 8 per cent, of ashes. Like turf, much of it is
converted into ulmine, and dissolves in alcali. It was chiefly
used at a little pottery at Bovey, but had been tried, unsuccess-
fully, for smelting the Haytor iron ore; which, however, he
thought it would be equal to, with proper management.

Lignite also yielded an excellent charcoal, much resembling
that from wood, and in larger proportion; which burnt with a
strong lively heat, and without the smell of the fresh coal. It
would answer all the purposes of oak charcoal, if attention were
paid to the discharge of the ashes.

Flaming coal was of four kinds : —

1, Caking coal, such as we get from Newcastle.

2, Splent coal, a harder and duller kind, more like the Welsh
coal, but different in some respects.

3, Cherry coal, the Scotch coal used on board the steam
packets.

4, Cannel coal.

The first and last were described as best suited for common
grate fires and gas works ; the two others for furnaces* work.

The geological position of coal, and its probable origin were
explained ; and descriptions given of the methods of mining and
raising it. Allusion was made to the apprehensions expressed,
by some persons, of the coal running short, and putting a stop to
our machinery : and a calculation was gone into, from whence
it appeared that the quantity now in store, under ground, amoun-
ted to about eighteen thousand millions of tons; which, at the
present rate of consumption, would last nearly 1,000 years.

Different analyses of coal were then given, and corrected by
computation from the average produce of gas works — taken at

Gas, 10,000 cubic feet -x

Tar, 160 pounds # Which gave the

Ammoniacal ) ^.^ , > elements quo-

Liquor \ 200 pounds t ^^d in the table.
Coke, 18 cwt. J

From a Chaldron of Coals, weighing 27 cwt.

The uses of coal were stated to be innumerable ; in short, to
be estimated only by the demand for heat, or for mechanical

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 233

force, both of which it would and did supply in qualities of
which the limits were not yet ascertained nor calculated.

The great objection to its use was the black dense smoke it
emitted ; the effects of which in the metropolis and in manu-
facturing towns were alluded to. The most effectual remedy for this
evil was, charring the coal, or converting it into coke; which was
at the same time the most powerful fuel known. Gas coke was
described as equal to most purposes of that substance; but the
Staffordshire coke was preferred, and the mode of its preparation
described.

The great consumption of coke was in the iron furnaces ; but
it was available in malt houses, and wherever a clear, strong,
steady heat without smoke is required ; he thought it might be
used to advantage for culinary purposes, to a greater extent than
it was at present, where close stoves were employed.

The remaining class of coal, culm, was carbon, nearly free .
from hydrogen, and containing a little oxygen and sulphur. It
gave a fierce heat, but was apt to split in the furnace, and fall
between the bars : hence its use, chiefly, in lime burning. It
would, however, answer many purposes of coke; giving an
equal heat, measure for measure, (but not taken by weight) and
more permanent. Its strong smell of sulphur, and its habit of
splitting being the chief objections. Its use might, however, be
advantageously increased in furnaces where there was a good
draught, which would allow the grate bars to be pretty close.

The lecture was illustrated by many tables; of which we in-
sert a few of the most important : —

ANALYSES.

Turf,. ..A ^j)^"°a^^ \ 42 Gas 18 Charcoal 25 Ashes 15
Wood,.. Water 25 ^^Ta?er. 1^^ ^^^^^ ^^ ^t'']'
Lignite,. . ^ ^^uTq^^^' ] ^^ Charcoal 40 Ashes 8
Coal, Hydrogen 4 Oxygen 11 Carbon 81 Azote 4

EFFECTIVE POWER OF DIFFERENT FUELS.

"o Coal, would heat, . 60

T3 TCoke, 66^ Pounds of water, from the freezing

§ 1 Wood, 27 ^ to the boiling point, if all the

p- J Charcoal, 75 I heat produced could be contrac-

(V r Turf, 25 1 ted in the water.

O Charred Turf, .... 60^

Lignite, rather superior to Turf. — Culm, rather inferior to Coke.
VOL. VI. — 1835. FF

234 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

October 8th. — Mr. Owen^s Lecture on the Resistance
of Fluids.

After alluding to the importance of this subject, in a maratime
country like England, in consequence of its immediate connexion
with those branches of science on which ship-building depends,
Mr. Owen proceeded to state some of the theories of resistance
which had been investigated by Sir Isaac Newton and other phi-
losophers, together with some of the results of theory. These
results were stated to be obtained by the application of that law
of resistance which makes it vary as the square of the velocity.
In certain velocities this law is not far from the truth. Some of
the difficulties and uncertainty of a theoretical consideration of
the subject, were pointed out, and the uniform avowal of philo-
sophers was stated as to the impossibility of successfully pro-
secuting it except by experiment.

Some account was given of a very interesting set of experiments
by Sir Charles Knowles, with a view to ascertain the action of
a running stream of water against an obstacle at rest. He intro-
duced into this stream certain coloured filaments of a liquid
which would not mix with the water, and thus the paths of these
filaments were traced out. This was done with great care, and
it appeared that, whatever was the velocity, the curves described
by the filaments, when deflected from their course by the resist-
ance of the obstacle, was in all cases the same ; from which it
results, by the principles of mechanics, that the force which
keeps the filaments in this curve must vary as the square of the
velocity. This was an unexpected and most interesting result,
pointed out by the experiments of Sir Charles Knowles.

Some allusion was made by the lecturer to the experiments
which were conducted on a large scale in France, at the expense
of the French Academy, by D* Alembert, Condorcet, aud Bossut;
but he dwelt at considerable length on some very valuable expe-
riments that were made, on the resistance of fluids, in England,
chiefly under the direction of the late talented Colonel Beaufoy,
in furtherance of the views of the Society for the Encouragement
of Naval Architecture, which was established some years ago in
this country. A complete account of these experiments has
lately been very beautifully printed for private distribution, at an
expense of upwards of £3,000., and a copy has been most liber-
ally presented by the son of Colonel Beaufoy to every gentleman
in this county whom he supposed to be interested in the subject
to which the experiments refer.

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 235

The lecturer took some pains to explain to the society the great
care which was used in the conduct of these experiments, and
the nature of the requisite calculations, which appear to have
been of a very laborious kind and which were performed by Col.
Beaufoy, in order to render the results of the experiments prac-
tically available.

Our limits will prevent our going so fully into these valuable
experiments as we should desire. It appears, however, from
what the lecturer stated, as the general result of his researches
in this subject, that although experiments have been conducted
at different times by different individuals, and some on a very
large scale, yet that they can only be considered as valuable as
far as they go, that is, as shewing the action of the fluid upon the
bodies which were used in the experiments. It appears to be
impossible to deduce conclusions from experiments on small
bodies, which shall be applicable to larger similar bodies; and,
in endeavouring to apply these results to the construction of ships,
it must not be forgotten that the models which have been used
in these several ex])eriments have borne but a very small pro-
portion to the size of ships themselves.

Naval Architecture has, consequently, gained but little from
the labour which has been bestowed on these experiments, and
the forms which have been given by different individuals to ships,
have depended rather upon the fancy and general experience of
those individuals, than upon any practical facts which this branch
of experimental science has furnished.

In order to discover, therefore, that form of body of a ship
which shall oppose the least resistance to its passage through the
water, the lecturer recommended that experiments should be
made upon ships themselves, under all the ordinary circum-
stances of sailing. These experiments, however, should be con-
ducted, not in the mode in which experimental sqadrons have
hitherto been, viz., by comparing together the sailing qualities of
ships that have varied in every particular — but, if it be desirable
to discover, by experiment, which of two or more forms is best
calculated for velocity, it is, of course, necessary that the form
should be the only variable element; the ships in every other
respect should be exactly similar.

Mr. Owen pointed out the mode in which these experiments
might be conducted, and stated several collateral advantages
which would be derived from them, such as, discovering how far
(the angle of lee- way is affected by the form, the best trim of the

236 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

sails for gaining most on a wind, &c. &c.; he concluded by-
saying that Naval Architecture is a branch of physical science
which involves many questions that can only be determined by
experiment, but that the experiments are necessarily upon so
large a scale, as to place out of the power of individuals, or
even of societies of individuals to conduct them. It is therefore,
one of those enterprises in science which none but a nation can
undertake — and he thought it worthy of so great a maritime
nation as England, to endeavour to advance, at whatever reason-
able cost, a subject so important to its defence.

October 15th, — a paper was read by H. Woollcombe, Esq.,
President of the Institution, on the Objects and Advantages of
the British Association. The paper not admitting of an abstract
being made of it with effect, we have been kindly allowed by the
author to present the whole of it to our readers; it will appear
in the next number.

October 22nd. — Lt. Col. Ham. Smith's Fourth Lecture,

ON THE

Filiation and Migrations of the Ancient Nations of Europe,

After recapitulating the results of his last paper, the lecturer
drew the attention of the Society to a consideration of the Geo-
graphical state of Europe and the West of Asia during the first
ages after the flood ; and pointed out the greater size of the
rivers, the impediments arising from interminable forests and
from chains of mountains, that had not as yet been trodden by
the foot of man. He showed tlie particular routes which the
colonizers of the West must of necessity have taken, after quitting
their aboriginal seats, near the sources of the Indus and Oxus.
He pointed out the great central and shortest road, by the valley
of the Oxus, towards the Southern shore of the Caspian and the
Bactrian empire, being fixed, at a remote date, in that valley
prevented for several ages the further use of this route;
and necessitated other avenues to the West being explored.
Of these, one lay to the North, by the laxartes, to the sea of
Aral, and thence round the Northern shores of the Caspian.
Here the lecturer expatiated upon the difficulties which opposed
all further progress to colonists, after they had arrived at the
mouth of the Rha or Volga, because that river and the Don in
like manner are subject to extensive inundations during the sum-

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 237

raer ; spreading up the Salt plains, as far as the 50th degree of
N. Lat. Here commence dense forests and the chain of the
Ouralian mountains, which, though they are of small elevation
in general, still they prove to have been a boundary line of
a family of nations for many centuries. These obstacles
appeared to the lecturer the cause of an accumulation of co-
lonists, and he remarked that it was in that region the ancients
placed their Arimaspian state. Arimaspi he translated from the
Pehlevi to horse-warriors.

He then described the gradual passage of small tribes across
the rivers Volga and Don, and of others over the ice in winter,
forming the nucleus of the 40 nations of Western Scythae. He
then adverted to greater swarms that forced their way to the
South, into Armenia and Persia, where, however, they appear to
have been anticipated by kindred nations, who came by a third
road, out of the central mountains of Asia, passing along the
Suleimany chain, West of the Indus, to the South, till they
could turn Westward, by one or other of the affluents, into the
river Helmund ; which brought them, at its termination in a lake,
within a few days' route of Ancient Persepolis, and thence they
could easily arrive at the Tigris. Here the lecturer pointed out
the existence of a series of cromlechs, stone circles, and maen-
stones, along the whole way, from the Indus to the Tigris. Con-
sidering this route as the most ancient by which Celto Scythae
and Scythse came towards the West : he thought that the Hyksos
or Haik wearers of ancient Egypt as not unlikely to have been of
that family of colonists, who also may have introduced the Indian
rudiments of architecture in the Delta, and who, when expelled,
retreated to Scychopolis, in Palestine, and pastured their flocks
in the Hauran.

Reverting again to the North, the lecturer noticed a theory
which would account for the sudden commencement of the
swarming of migratory nations, and their passage down the Bos-
phorus into the Mediterranean. This theory reposed upon the
Ogygian deluge, and the sudden contraction of the surface of an
immense inland sea, into three smaller ones, by the breaking
of the Bosphorus, and the passage of the waters from the low-
lands of Russia, through this channel, into the Mediterranean :
and by the reduction of level, the Black Sea, the Caspian and the
lake of Aral may have been divided, from one, into three seas.
In support of the theory, he produced sundry arguments shew-
ing the low levels of the Caspian and the Aral, the existence of

238 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

immense salt steppes, and the very slight elevation of the surface
of the soil, as far as the Baltic, and the Gulph of Archangel.
The facts announced, and the arguments they originate, are,
in themselves, of considerable interest, but too numerous for
detail in an abstract. They shew, however, in the aggregate,
sufficient reasons for the comparative tardiness of the popula-
tion of the North and West of Europe.

Having noticed the three great routes through Asia, already
mentioned, and the subsequent progress by divided columns up
the affluents of the Black Sea, into Poland to the Vistula; up
the Danube to the Rhine, and across the Bosphorus into Greece
and Illyria; further also, the routes by sea on both sides of the
Mediterranean ; the lecturer pointed out the degrees and quality
of civilization and the religious opinions, the different tribes ac-
quired from contact with Scythic and Semetic races, and how
these many different combinations are in some cases known, and
in others presumed to have affected the tongues originally spoken
in Europe.

In this view he named Scythic the tongue supposed to have
been aboriginally spoken by the Gothic Slavonian, Indo German,
and Teutonic nations, in dialects more or less different from each
other, but belonging to the common stock : of these the Sanscrit
is the oldest written form; and the 40 Pracrit dialects of India
Jiving languages. Such also was the Meso Gothic, and Anglo
Saxon ; the living languages being all the tongues of the North,
connected with German and Slavonic.

The next great parent tongue he named Semetic, and includes
the old Chaldaic, Syriac, Hebrew, Arabian, Amharic, and even
Copthic.

The third, belonging to the race chiefly under consideration
he denominated Gomerian, including the tongues spoken by na-
tions that preceded the Celtae, as well as the various dialects of
Keltic : of these the Welsh, Irish, Galic, and Armorican are living
representatives.

All words common to these three great ramifications of lan-
guages he considered as belonging to the original languages of
the Caucasian man, and therefore he named Caucasian.

Allowing for the interposition of a few dialects that seem to
be independant of any of the above, or that are not sufficiently
known, and therefore named by the lecturer aberrant tongues, he
considered that we may classify all the dialects of the Gomerian
4\nd Semigomerian nations settled in Europe, in a sufficiently

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION. 239

approximate form to correctness, where they are known; and
where we have only k few words and other indications of nation-
ality; that we may still so arrange them, by supposed affinities,
as will at least offer a clear notion of the relative connection of
the nations enumerated, with the parent races and with each
other.

In this point of view, the adulterations of the Gomerian tongue
will be found classed by names, according to the nature and
extent of the deterioration it is supposed to have received.

I. Gomerian. The language in its presumed perfect forms.
That is with so little of Scythic and Semitic as to lead to the
conclusion that, words common to all the three belong to the
last original Caucasian. This tongue may have been spoken
in various dialects by the Cyclopians, the Siculians, the Lestri-
gons, the Cabiri, the Telchini, the Cappadocians, the Colchians,
the Absynthians, the Cynetae, the Liburnians, the Venedi, the
Ligurians, the first Cyprians, the Armoricans of the South, the
Gallaicans, the Lusitanians, the Bastuli, the Silures of Britain,
and perhaps the Turdetan.

II. Gomerian Aberrant tongues, mixed with dialects not
ascertained ; the Cantabrian, the Basque, the Asturian, the Sho-
wiah or Shelluh of Africa, the Finnic and Lapland.

III. Keltic or Celtic. Gomerian tongue with an evident ad-
mixture of Scythic dialects. The first Armenian, the first Gal-
latian, the Celtiberian, the Umbrian. The Pontic ? the Carian?

IV. Celto Scythic. Dialects where the Gomerian and Scythic
are mixed in nearly equal proportions. The first Iberian, first
Albanian, the Lydian, the Lycian, the Phrygian, the Thracian,
the Thessalian, the Pelasgic, the Volscian, the Gallic of Gaul,
the first Belgian, the first Latin, the Hellenic .

V. Celto-Gothic, Cymbric or Cymmerian, where the Gothic
dialects of the Scythic greatly predominated over the Gomerian, and
comprehending the oldest languages of the North- East, North,
and North- West of Europe, The Tauriccymmerian, the primi-
tive Scandinavian, the Cymbric^ the Frisic, the second Belgic,
the Francic, the Ilevonic, or dialect of the Upper Rhine, the
Dacian, the Waldensic, the Rhasenic, afterwards mixed with the
Etruscan, and perhaps the Bur-Gundian.

VI. Celto-Semitic. Where the Celtic was mixed with
Semitic : the Phoenician, the Punic of Carthage, the dialects of
Libanus or of the ancient Druses, the Etruscan ; the second
Cypriot, the Leuco- Syrian, the Barrabra of Africa and the

240 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.

Mauritanian. TheTurdetan of Spain, before mentioned, may have
been mixed with Semetic.

The living languages of Gomerian origin, the Welsh, Gaelic,
Irish, Maux, Cornubian, Armorican or Bas Breton ; perhaps
even the Koubal of Morocco, the Romanche, the Waldensic, the
Illyrian, and even a part of the Wallon he viewed as combina-
tions more or less pure of the more ancient dialects, still more
adulterated by the Roman Latin, the Prankish, the Anglo Saxon
and the Norsk, together with the addition of numerous words
expressing new wants and ideas, and later terms of religion, art,
and science. The polished Helenic or classical Greek, derived
from the Pelasgian, he said, was deeply fraught with forms and
words of Scythic origin on one side, and with a poetical and
scientific superstructure of Semitic origin on the other. So
also the oldest Latin, composed of Volscian and Rutulian
Celto-Scythic, combined with Etruscan and Thraco Pelasgic,
Oscan and Umbrian, gradually changed its character, so that in
the time of the Empire, the hymns of the reigns of the ancient
kings had become totally unintelligible. The present Romaic or
modern Greek, the Southern dialects of Slavonic, the French and
English, are still, he stated, indebted to the ancient Gomerian
for many words, and even the Flemish and Low-German are not
entirely without proper names and terms, derived from this
ancient parent of the tongues of Europe.

PLYMOUTH; PRINTED BY G. P. HEARDER.

T>o^ ^lAJi'^ y^^A'^y yjrry] t)oi wfii^x ^? ryu iJArrr

(>: P. HorirJV-.r, Sc.

THE SOUTH DEVON

MONTHLY MUSEUM.

PLYMOUTH, DECEMBER 1st, 1835.

No, 30.] Price Sixpence. [Vol. VI.

THE PERAMBULATOR, No. XIL

THE BEAR'S HEAD AND QUEEN ANNE'S
BATTERY, PLYMOUTH.

Whether a circuit in a boat be a perambulation, is
a question which we leave to etymologists ; and, in
the mean time, employ the word (provisionally,
until they shall have supplied us with one more or-
thodox), to denominate another of our excursions,
for the purpose of consigning to the press the
momentos of some of our mouldering antiquities.

Two of these meet the eye, in passing from Cat
Down to the Barbican quay ; known by the names
of the Bear's Head, and Queen Anne's Battery.

The Bear's Head is one of those remarkable for-
mations, which attract notice by their difference from
the usual characters of the rock they belong to, and
their resemblance to some other object of a very
dissimilar nature. When we look at the fissures of
our Hme rocks, indicative of something like strati-
fication, of which the qnarryman takes advantage to
direct his blast holes ; of others again crossing
these ; and of deep caves perforating the rock in
various directions ; we should expect to find pro-
jecting angles and edges, and overhanging crags ;
but suspended masses, and suspended too upon
curve lines, would by no means be looked for. Yet
such is the Bear's Head, as our engraving shews.
VOL. vr. — 1835. gg

242 THE bear's head and

In the position we have selected, its name is quite
appropriate : but the face, taken in front, from the
hawthorn, on the opposite angle of its little cove,
has much resemblance to that of a water-spaniel.
It is situated in Deadman*s Bay, just on the eastern
side of the easternmost quarry : and it is remarkable
that none of the numerous vessels wrecked on all
sides of it, should ever have been impelled against
it, and have tumbled it from its unstable position.

Such an object, so circumstanced, would, in times
of idolatry, have been a famed and dreaded sea-god.
Sacrifices would have smoked beneath it ; and,
probably, the blood of the shipwrecked mariner
might often have flowed, in expression of horrid
gratitude to a senseless stone, for vessels thrown on
the coast, a prey to the savage inhabitants. Would
that such savage thirst for plunder had never dis-
graced Christianity ! Whether our Druidical pre-
decessors allowed of such idolatry may be questioned ;
and it is still more unlikely that the Bear's Head
was so far worked out, as to have been a striking
object in their time. We only know that, in 1785,
before we had yet attained years of discretion, it
was spring tide when the Bear's Head drank ; and
now, after half a century, at spring tides, its marble
muzzle is still bathed, at high water.

It has lost nothing of its ursine profile within our
recollection ; but the front face seems to us to have
become more animal-like ; not so much to the bear
as the water-spaniel. The cleft, however, which
seems to divide it from the body of the rock,
appears also to have made progress ; and it would
not surprise us if another score of years should
witness the subvertion of this hoary relic of our
childhood ; and probably of the days when Ply-
mouth was a defenceless village, the prey of mar-
auders, who came to steal slaves for foreign markets ;
but of this more presently. Let us, in the mean
while, exhort all lovers of the old Bear's Head, to
take especial care of this plate ; probably the only

QUEEN ANNe's BATTERY. 243

one whereon its portrait will go down to posterity.
And thou, future reader, who, in the year 2500, de-
cypherest with toil this antiquated type, and porest
over the glossary for these obsolete words ; despise
not the engraving ; but remember that it was exe-
cuted in the infancy of the arts, in the year 1835 ;
when we had no method of travelling faster than 20
miles an hour on rail roads; no artificial hght
brighter than the oxy-hydrogen jet on lime ; when
the magnetic spark was only just discovered ; and
before the nature of comets and meteorolites had
been ascertained. If the rude cuts of om^ dark ages
convey to your instructed eyes, no idea of resem-
blance, we have provided for the difficulty, in our
case, by printing the name beneath.

Although of seemingly small importance, the
Bear's Head marks the limits of the jurisdiction of
the borough seawards ; and is alluded to, under the
Municipal Corporation bill, in the division of the
said borough into wards.

We must, however, pull across to Queen Anne's
Battery ; which formerly threatened, (for it could
do little more) the entrance of Sutton Pool, from the
eastern bank.

By whomsoever this was erected, we do not
believe it was by the royal lady of seldom disturbed
memory, whose name it bears. Although no ways
learned in fortress antiquities, it seems to us unlikely
to have been raised after the Citadel. The engineers
of the days of Marlborough, would hardly have
constructed so useless and needless an affair; nor
would it have been allowed to fall so soon into ruins,
if of their execution other and older forts there are,
at Devil's Point, and in Firestone Bay, being two of
the four castles emblazoned on the town arms, and
constituting some of its primitive defences. It
appears by the original charter of the borough, 18.
Henry VI., 1439 ; that " the town tything," &c.
"aforesaid, have in former times, frequently, and in
"great measure, for want of inclosure or walling of

244 THE bear's head kc,

" the same, in time of our renowned ancestors, been
"burnt and destroyed ; and likewise the inhabitants
" of the same have been, both by night and day,
" stripped of their goods and chattels ; and many of
" the same inhabitants being by the same enemies
" carried away into foreign parts, have there, in the
" said cases been miserably enslaved, until they had
" paid fines and ransoms, kc."

Therefore the Mayor and Commonalty were
allowed to " strengthen the aforesaid borough, and
" wall it round anew with stone, and build towers
" in the walls," — " and also to build battlements on
" the walls and turrets," &c.

It is not likely, however, that the little forts now
standing, are of so ancient date as this, though we
do not happen to have at hand any reference to the
period of their erection. They are, however, doubt-
less older than the battery called Queen Anne's,
which, in its turn, we should judge to be older than
the Citadel, the latter having been erected by Charles
II. By whomsoever erected, however, it has long
been allowed to go to decay; and, althougli the
smell and sound of gunpowder are still frequently
perceived there, it is only in blasting the rock behind,
and making the sooner way for its fall. Hitherto
the battlements and the platform which bore the
cannon have been respected ; and there is a good
walk along the latter. There is even a seat, shaded
by one of the thorn bushes which so strikingly mark
the operation of the S. W. wind : and here our vete-
rans may resort, smoke their pipes, and talk over the
wars and politics of other days, under the enlivening
reminiscences of the occasional smoke and report of
a rock blasting within, and the small shot falHng
about their ears.

Its form, an irregular curve, and its port holes for
14 guns, are best seen from the sea side ; which
view we have chosen for our engraving.

245

LINES.

Judge her not hardly ! Ye to whom the cup
Of life hath brought no poison, o'er whose way
The Spirits of Despair have flung no shade.

Oh ! there are times, and may ye never know
Their strength of desolation, when the soul.
Bowed low with agony, surveys the world —
The fair and beautiful world — as one wide blank
Most verdureless and joyless. Life seems a weight
Too grievous to be borne, and the dark day
That first looked on it, in our gloomy hour.
Is thought on to be wept. The very joys
Of our companion-beings have no charm :
The loveliness of youth; the gentle voice
Of all confiding woman, lose their spell
And the glad burst of childhood's innocent glee
Wring heavy drops from our burning eyes
Which their own throbbing cells absorb again.
We think on what we were — Yet Envy quails
Before an infant's trusting smile of love.

Judge her not hardly ! round that lifeless form

A mother's arm has oft, endearing, twined :

On that cold brow a father's lips have pressed

Sweet tokens of affection : that fair form

So delicately graceful even in death

Was worshipped as an idol — yet betrayed.

Then came the world's dark scorn ; the stricken deer

Strayed, herd-abandoned, 'till sharp misery wrenched

Her reason from its dwelling, and her brain

Grew burning with the pictures of the dead

Whose toil of life is o'er. She flung away

A life which proved a hell, while he who wrought

Ruin on lovliness, may walk the earth

With few to mark the brand upon her brow.

Franz.

246
SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT D. O'BRIEN, R. N.

Continued from page 211.

One was now deputed to go to reconnoitre the lionse ; it was about ten
o* clock— the house on the side of the road — a number of soldiers passing on
their route to the camp : this circumstance retarded our project, as we were
obliged to keep under a hedge, until those fellows had passed, which was
eleven o' clock. Then Mr. Tuihill (the deputed person), advanced, and in a
short time returned, and informed as that he had seen a man who had given
him some hopes — that he would join us shortly ; this was most welcome news.
The person made his appearance, and told us he would direct us to a friend's
house on the other side, who would, he believed, do what we wished — My
God ! what joyful intelligence ! his boat would put us across, as soon as she
should be afloat ; the tide of flood was then making, and be would return
again to where we were in an hour, which was the time he supposed the
boat would be afloat. We were now in wonderful spirits — changed our
situation, lest this fellow might have been a scoundrel sent to deceive us, and
placed ourselves where we could easily discover, whether he had any people
with him when returning. At the appointed time he came, where he supposed
to And us, by himself, which convinced us his intentions were more honest
towards us than we had imagined. In a few minutes we were transported to
the opposite side, where he secured his boat, and guided us to the house
above mentioned, assuring us that they were people we could depend upon,
and who had many friends, fishermen, on the water side : he would not enter
the cottage, or hut, but quitted us at the threshold, having received a suffi-
cient recompense for the trouble we had given : we knocked repeatedly at
the door— it began to rain very heavily — nor could we gain admittance, until
we had given repeated assurances that we were particular friends, who only
wished to he sheltered a few minutes from the inclemency of the weather.
These protestations at length gained us permission to enter.

The man and woman of the house stared at us with amazement; and
fmding we were utter strangers to them, they begged to know our mission.
We requested they would make themselves quite easy upon that head — that
we were absolutely come as friends in distress, to solicit ilieir assistance and
protection, and not to do them the smallest injury. We then informed them,
that we were Frenchmen, who anxionsly wished to be transported, as quickly
as possible, into some part of Normandy or Brittany. We made them
handsome oft'ers to encourage them, but without effect. The woman observed,
that it was true, she had a brother, a fisherman, in a village on the sea coast,
but his boat had been taken round to Estaples, and he was obliged, when he
wished to go out to fish, to embark at the town, going through the forms
already observed ; this induced us to credit, in a great measure, what the
shepherd had already stated. This history was also atVirmed by the husband.
They informed us, that, on our arrival, they suspected us to be gens d 'amies
in disguise. These scoundrels, it appears, are frequently in the habit of
imposing upon their poor countrymen in this manner. These good folks
insisted upon our quitting the house ; we pleaded the badness of the weather,
begged of them to allow us a barn, cow-house, or even a hog-sty, sooner than
be compelled to proceed any further in such inclement weather; they were,
however, positive, and we were under the necessity of proceeding, literally
in a deluge. They, however, had the goodness to point out a direction to us,
that led to a barn at some distance from a farm-house : this barn, they
observed, was full of hay, and very seldom visited, therefore, we could very
safely remain concealed in it, until the following night : they advised us also
to proceed towards Dieppe, or St. Vallcry, as the most probable places for
finding a boat.

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 247

We were now once more in a wandering situation, found there was no
confidence to be placed in any thing scarcely that these wretches said. The
weather, however, and the approach of day, obliged us to put the veracity of
their last information to trial. We shortly discovered the barn and farm-
house, and had the good fortune to arrive at the former a little before day-
light ; found it full of hay, as they stated ; a most timely relief for us, being
quite drenched with the incessant rain, and all over mud and dirt : each soon
found, or made a convenient hole for himself through the hay, taking the
precaution to work a good way down, and to cover himself well over, lest
our steps into this place should lead to suspicion, and we might be discovered ;
indeed we were suspicious even of the very people who had directed us hither.
So great was our opinion now of the folks we had to deal with. We fell into
a most profound sleep, nor did I awake until nine o' clock, (Friday, Septem-
ber 18th,) when I heard my name called repeatedly by Mr. Tuthill ; he pro-
posed that we should quit this place immediately, and get down to the sea
side, as the day was the only time to succeed in procuring a boat, from the
method they had of securing them at night. To me, this proposition appeared
replete with temerity ; the others did not approve of it, nor did they take
much pains to contradict it. I used the most forcible arguments I was
master of to dissuade them from so rash a proceeding — pointed out the pre-
cautions we had observed in the inland parts of the country, as the only thing
that had insured our success in arriving where we then were ; although there
was much less danger in the interior than on the sea coast, where there
would be of course a strict look-out kept, by custom-house officers, gardes de
cote, &c.

My observations gave rise to a number of arguments ; and, if I recollect
right, Mr. Tuthill observed, that he would quit the barn, and proceed by
himself, if we persevered in remaining any longer there. I suggested it as
the best plan to wait until night : we could, in the event of not succeeding,
always make this our rendezvous, and could arrive at it before day-light — ■
procuring subsistence at some lonely cottage during the night. All my
rhetoric was in vain : they all appeared to be desirous to try their fortune
by day-light. I then requested, at any rate, that they would wait until noon,
the usual time for the country people to dine — as we might with the more
facility get away unnoticed ; this was agreed to, and at noon we made a
sortie, and got on the high road, leading in the direction we intended to take,
without being seen by any body. We proceeded along, apparently with great
intrepidity — although, I confess, I had the greatest dread of being each
moment stopped. It proved to be market day at Estaples ; the road was
sometimes very much crowded with country people, going to, and returning
from the ferry boat. We passed so many without experiencing anything
disagreeable, that I began to think we should succeed in getting to the sand
hills, without interruption, where we could remain until night in perfect
security. If we were thus fortunate, I considered it would be owing to every
one imagining, that no suspicious people would attempt to pass so public a
way, in the middle of the day ; but our hopes were too sanguine, as the
reader will soon discover, and my apprehensions appeared to be too well
founded.

We kept advancing towards the sand hills with great celerity, little sus-
pecting that the moment was near at hand, when every hope of regaining our
native soil would be destroyed. Every pleasure we had anticipated on our
arrival there, the visiting of our friends, our advancement in our profession —
in fact, every thing pleasing to the human mind that we had indulged and
cherished, during our long and fatiguing march, was soon to be frustrated.
But to proceed ; we had now a poor sorry village to pass ; and, at the very

248 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

last house, Mr. A expressed a desire to ask for a drink of water, as he

felt excessively low : on these occasions, every one was consulted — none of
us saw any danger at this moment arising from this circumstance, having
passed through the village, and by a number of people, without the smallest
inconvenience. He accordingly entered the house, and we advanced slowly
waiting his return. He appeared to be a long time absent. Mr. Tuthill
wished to go and see what detained him. Mr. Essel and myself remained on
the side of the road, anxiously waiting. They very soen appeared ; and, to
our inexpressible grief and mortification, were conducted by two armed men,
in an uniform entirely foreign to us. I clearly perceived that these fellows
had taken them into custody, from the manner in which they approached:
when they had joined us, Mr. A. introduced me to them as Captain Cox, of
the ship Favorite, of New Yoik ; this had been a story fixed upon in case of
being stopped. We had been cast away near Marseilles, and all hands had
perished, except Florence Heath (Mr. A.), mate, William Dixon (Mr. T.),
supercargo, and Mr. Essel, whose new name I now forget, (passenger). We
were bound to Barcelona. Cargo— slaves and cotton. Only the supercargo
and mate could speak French: consequently I had an opportunity of disclosing
my sentiments more freely, to those who stood interpreters. They appeared
to commiserate our situation, and had not the least doubt but what we alleged
was true : but they would take us to the mayor oJ the town, who would (no
doubt,) grant us passports to proceed to some sea-port, whence we could
take shipping for America, or any other place we wished. We expressed
our warmest thanks for this mark of their attention ; but, (iJF they pleased)
we did not wisli to put them to the inconvenience of going out of their way
on our account. It was entirely in their way, and it was impossible we could
proceed along the coast without papers— they were only astonished how we
had crossed the kingdom of France ; or, more properly speaking, the empire,
without being arrested. We had been much to blame in not having procured
passports prior to our quitting Marseilles. We assured them, we were
ignorant of its being in the smallest degree necessary— we were born in a
country where nothing of the kind was required, and where it would be
deemed a very great insult, to ask any person where he came from, or
whither he was going. They gave a shrug at this— and declared it was
" bien dift'erent dans ce pays ci.*' We regretted that we had not been more
enlightened, with respect to the laws of their country, &c. &c., and by this
time we had arrived at the ferry boat, and in a few minutes were in the
town of Estaples. We had a number of articles in our possession that we
wished to get rid of. I desired my mate to mention to them, that I wished to
take a little refreshment at some convenient inn, before we waited on the
mayor. They consented, without hesitation, and we arrived at a small
cabaret; called for some bread and wine; and, one at a time, withdrew for a
few minutes : thus, wc got clear of several things (hat might have proved of
disagreeable consequences.

We now cheerfully accompanied (at least in appearance) our conductors.
They were under the necessity of waiting upon their captain, before they
went to the mayor. He received us with politeness, and sent for the mayor
to be present at our examination. His worship arrived, and with him an
American gentleman : they interrogated us very strictly and minutely. We
repeated our former story : the American gave us to understand , that as they
suspected we were English, which we had no possible means of disproving,
we should be sent to Boulogne prison, until they heard from our consul at Paris,
or until they were well convinced of the veracity of our statement. Accor-
dingly, we were conducted to the town prison, and given in charge to the
gend'armerie. Their brigadier, who was coinniinulin;; officer, after survey-

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 249

ing us with one of the eyes of Argus, inquired if they had been searched —
they replied, "no." " Search them instantly," cried he, " they are Englishmen,
depend on it, who have escaped from one of the depots." His orders were
readily obeyed ; I was first rummaged : they opened my pocket book, in which
were several English letters, &c. I asserted that the pocket-book belonged to
a cousin of mine, who had perished with the wreck ; but any thing I could
affirm was rendered abortive, for, on the others were found maps of the de-
partments that we had marched through, with several other papers, which
identified us to be what they suspected.

However, we still persisted in being Americans: they remonstrated on the
folly of such conduct, and ordered us to a dungeon, assuring us we should be
now very roughly treated, and considered as dangerous people ; whereas a
frank confession might cause some mitigation. After a little deliberation, we
clearly perceived the inutility of holding out ; so acknowledged at once, who,
and what we were. The brigadier assured us, he had been confident, from
the moment he first saw us, that we were English — he would do every thing
in his power to comfort us under our present embarrassments — he had no
superior officer of his corps nearer than Boulogne — where he should send us
the next day ; and, for that night, he would allow us to go to an inn, to get
ourselves a little in order; but with a strong escort, and we should be obliged
to find them in every necessary, and to pay them six livres (five shillings)
each for the night. This we readily agreed to— our situation, and state of
mind, being truly miserable.

At the inn we bought a new shirt and pair of stockings each, and got the old
ones washed and mended, They supplied us with tolerably good beds, which
we were extremely anxious to take possession of. After supper, we were
in the act of going to bed, when an order came from the commanding officer
•of a camp adjacent, to conduct us to his tent — which was quickly put in
execution. He appeared, in manners, the reverse of the French general
character : perused all my letters, which were of no consequence to any one
existing, except myself; and which have never been returned unto me —
declared he was certain we had emissaries on the coast, otherwise we should
never have attempted so perilous a journey. We assured him, it was no such
thing. "Ah!" said he, "the fishermen on our coast unfortunately are too
much attached to the English."

Our conversation teiminated; and we were re-conducted to the inn, where
we very soon retired, to rest our weary limbs, and to take that refreshment
of which our bodies and miads both stood so much in need.

At eight o' clock the next morning, we were placed in a cart, and escorted
to Boulogne, where we arrived about two in the afternoon : were given in
charge to the jailer, who sent one of his expert turnkeys to show us our
lodgings, which were certainly extensive enough ; two small sheafs of strawj
and a bucket of water were shortly after sent us, to supply the places of
beds and refreshments, after about twelve leagues journey — as well as to
strengthen us for a most fatiguing march back into the interior.

This day's excursion a^orded us a view of that formidable flotilla, which
had so frequently threatened to huil destruction upon our little island, as well
as a view of the white cliff's of Dover. A frigate and lugger were also cruising
off the French coast— how pleasing even was this sight, after an absence of
nearly four years. Notwithstanding our unhappy situation ;— the agitation
which alternately seized me, the distracted state of my mind, the thoughts
that revolved within me, are not to be described by any mortal.

The keenness of our appetites soon suggested to us the necessity of becoming
acquainted with our good host ; we therefore began to supplicate, through the
iron grates, some relief; after repeated solicitations, during which we never

VOL. VI. — 1835. HH

250 SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN.

omitted mentioning, that we would pay anything they demanded— this good
man thought proper, at last, to pay us a visit ; he promised to afford us reliety
and we soon got supplied tolerably well, and had two mattresses brought ns
still keeping our promise to pay what was demanded. It appeared this man
was a great acquisition ; he had been originally a convict sentenced to per"
petual imprisonment in chains, so he resided in a jail, and wore small silver
chains round hi-i wrists and ancles: and thus literally conformed to the
sentence, while he was placed in a situation under government.

This jail, similar to all the others that I have seen in France, was full of
deserters from the army, who were very cruelly used. On Monday, Septem-
ber 21., we were conducted to the captain of gens d'armes to undergo another
examination : he behaved very like a gentleman ; we were interrogated
separately. He said that our attempt to regain our liberty was very lauduble ;
he felt for our misfortunes, and assured me he would return me my letters if
he possibly could : but added, that I could get them from General Wirrion, at
Verdun, to whom he was then forwarding them. Our march back was to
commence the next morning ; he exhorted ns to have fortitude and patience,
and dwelt very much on the cnielty of not having an exchange of prisoners.
We returned him many thanks for his }:oodness, and were escorted back to
our apartment, when we made every necessary arrangement for the next day.

Tuesday, September 22. We were called betimes by the guard, and in a
few minutes were once more en route ; the day was excessively wet, and the
roads heavy, which prevented them from chaining ns ; more particularly as
vrc had a very long march to Montruil, abont twelve or thirteen leagues distant.
About five in the afternoon, we were placed in the common jail, which we
found a lohrably good one; but the jailer and his wife extorted from us in a
shameful manner. They told us, that a Mr. Kemp, an Englishman, resided
at the mayor's, and was considered a prisoner on parole. We sent hira a
note, which he answered, declaring, be would willingly come and see us : but
he was afraid of compromising himself. 1 leave the reader to imagine what
opinion this reply gave us of our countryman. Here we remained several
days, waiting what they styled correspondence. As they received orders to
transport us from brigade to brigade, that we might experience the comforts
■ of every dungeon between Estaples and Verdun, and also form acquaintances
in them, we did not despair, even then, of being able to escape on our return,
as we frequently contrived to slip onr hands out of the hand-cuffs, &c. without
toeing noticed ; but never found a cover, or a convenient place to run for,
when these occasions offered.

Our route was through Hesdin, St. Panll to Arras, where we saw several of
onr countrymen, who where not so extremely cautious as Mr. Kemp; although
we were conducted through the main street, loaded with chains. The jailer
here behaved with kindness and civility to us, and (with the exception of one),
was the most humane man in that situation I ever kneiv. The commandant
was also extremely civil, and allowed ns, at onr own request, a chaise, with
an escort, to Cambray. Having passed through Bapaume, we called at the
baker's where Mr. Essel supposed he had lost his money. He and his
children were severally examined ; but we could not discover the smallest
trace that might lead us to suppose he had it. And I must confess I believed
the baker to be innocent. At Cambray we dismissed, or rather, the Arras
eacort quitted us ; and we were conducted to Chateau Cambressin, where we
were put into a most horrible dungeon, under ground ; nor could any thing in
our power have any effect upon the flint-hearted keeper of it. We fortunately
remained but 24 hours in this place; thence we were conducted to Landrey,
which I have already mentioned ; being now in the same road that we
were formerly marched through ; however, my situation then was very

SUFFERINGS OF LIEUTENANT o'bRIEN. 251

different, I was not encumbered with fetters, hand-cuffs, &c. We stopped
here to breakfast, our landlady shed tears at seeing us fettered in so cruel a
manner ; nor would our guards unshackle even one hand during the time ; the
people of the house were obliged literally to feed us.

(September, 1807.) At about five o' clock we arrived at Avernes goal, and
were placed among crimiiials of every denomination, by order Cthey observed)
of General Wirrion, who, it appears, had sent express to all those places, to
desire that we should be treated as severely as possible. The report here was
that we were going to be shot as spies, who had been inspecting their naval
armaments along the coast. One of our companions in this horrible prison
was a wretch condemned to perpetual irons, for having murdered his father
and mother : he had cut. them in quarters, and buried thfem in a pit — it
appeared that he was insane. I shuddered, and felt the most unpleasant
sensations imaginable at the sight of this monster. We all felt inexpressible
joy at quitting this vile place, which was at day-break the next day.

About five o' clock, we halted at Hirson. We had passed through this
village formerly, with the frigate's crew, and were then billetted on the inha-
bitants, as they had no jail. I was in great hopes we should avoid the horrors
of a dungeon for one night at least, but found myself mistaken. They placed
us in a small dungeon, calculated to contain about our immber (four), an*-
gave us a little straw to lie on.

A brigadier of gend'armerie, with tvio gensd'armes, constituted the police
of this village. The former spoke to us through a hole in the dungeon door,
and informed us, that the jailer's wife would procure us some refreshments
by giving her money in advance, which we readily agreed to, returning him
many thanks, at the same time, for his goodness and condescension.

We were soon informed that there was a kind of repast prepared for us,
and that we should have permission to go into the jailer's house, during'
the few minutes necessary to refresh ourselves. This intelligence threw us
into great confusion, as we had been unaccustomed to such an indulgence, and
in consequence had neglected to deposit in some secret hole a number of
small articles, such as files, gimlets, &c., which we fortunately had hitherto
kept concealed. The moment they were about to open our door, one pre-
ferred keeping what he had upon his person, another slipped his in among,
the straw, and in this perplexed state the door was opened, and we were
ordered out. I protest I thought the things left in the straw were best
secured, as the place was excessively dark. We were now seated at table to
some soup, &c., in great consternation, surrounded by the gens d'armes and
jailer. In a few minutes, the latter procured a candle and lanthorn, and
informed the brigadier he was ready to attend him. He accordingly rose,
and they proceeded to the miserable abode we had just quitted. An opinion
of our feelings at that moment can only be formed by those unfortunate
people who have experienced similar sutierings and vicissitudes : I can only
say, that our relish for the soup was not very great; we were well assured
that every thing left in the straw would inevitably be discovered, which most
certainly would lea<l to a general search of our persons. I felt particularly
concerned on account of a certain article, which I kept upon me contrary to
the general wish. The brigadier's generosity was now suliiciently accounted
for.

To be continued.

252
THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

A PAPER, READ IN THE ATHEN.EUM OP THE PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION,

ON THE EVENING OF THE 15TH, OF OCTOBER, BY

H. WOOLLCOMBE ESQ.— PRESIDENT.

In compliance with the wishes of several of our
Members, I am about to give some account of the
proceedings of the British Association, at their late
meeting in Dublin ; and to endeavour to shew the
absurdity of many of the criticisms that have been
cast on them ; it is indeed, I believe, as far as regards
this Institution, unnecessary to answer these objec-
tions ; but, as I have been requested to point out
the folly and want of candour of many of these
critics, I will make the attempt, though I am by no
means disposed to vindicate in mass all the arrange-
ments, yet I can assign the grounds which have
induced some of our ablest men to maintain and
support those measures which are by others so
unduly censured.

It will be remembered that this association origi-
nated in a desire to give a stronger impulse and a
more systematic direction to scientific enquiry, — to
promote the intercourse of those who cultivate science
in different parts of the British empire with one
another, and with foreign philosophers, — to obtain a
more general attention to the objects of science, and
a removal of any disadvantages of a public kind,
which impede its progress.

If these objects of the association are praiseworthy,
we must enquire how far they are faithfully pursued
and followed up at the meetings which are annually
held for the avowed purpose of carrying them into
execution. And here I feel entitled to say, before
shewing what has been done at any of these meetings,
that, after the experience which the meetings at
Oxford, Cambridge, and Edinburgh afforded, that it
is not very likely that mere love of amusement,
feasting, and frivolous entertainments ; or the gra-
tification of making complimentary speeches, con-
cluding with laudatory resolutions, v/ould draw such

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 253

men as I am about to name from their distant
abodes, and studies, to cross the seas solely to
participate in such occupations.

If the Sectional rooms had not afforded ample
information, in the communications which were
made, and the discussions which followed them, we
should not have had Dalion, and Airy, Brown, Sir
David Brewster, and Babbage, Drs. Thompson, and
Lardner, Whewell, and Powell, Dr. Roget, Professor
Philips, Professor Johnston, Mr. Bailey, Sir Thomas
Brisbane, Mr. Lubbock, and many others.

If the pursuits of Geology w^ere not mainly aided
by these communications and discussions, it is not
probable, that those men, who are certainly the very
best judges in the empire of the merit of those pa-
pers, and of the manner in which they are investiga-
ted, and of the maps, plans, and sections, many of
which owe their very existence to this association,
should be found in these rooms year after year.
For, in Edinburgh or Dublin, and most of them at
both, we have seen Sedgwick, Buckland, Oreenough,
Murchison, Lyell, Wm. Smith, and Griffith.

And this desire to be present at their meetings is
not confined to our own countrymen ; at Edinburgh
we saw that eminent Frenchman, Arago ; at Dublin,
Baron Barclay de Tolly ; at both places Professor
Agases, of Neufchatel, Professor Moll, of Utrecht,
Dr. Piethman, of Berlin, Col. Dick, of New Orleans,
two professors, from New York, two noblemen, from
Norway ; besides many other gentlemen, lovers of
science, from France, whose names it is not necess-
ary to enumerate.

This annual assemblage of scientific men from
every part of the world, must create a degree of
interest, which we have not perceived any other
society that has been instituted to have previously
done ; and no one can be justly entitled to censure
the Association, who has not attended strictly to
their proceedings, and read their publications. It is
very true, that the newspapers will seize on those

254 THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

parts of their occupations, that are most in accor-
dance with the public taste ; Professor Airy may-
read to the Society the most learned and elaborate
treatise, and, on the evening of the same day, a
splendid dinner may be given to many of the mem-
bers of the Association ; when, by way of occupying
part of the time allotted, laudatory and compli-
mentary speeches may be made. The provider of
the daily occupation for news-mongers, passes by
all that has occurred in the morning which has been
devoted to the pursuit of scientific objects, and ex-
patiates on the splendour of the evening's entertain-
ment, and details not an analysis or abstract of
Airy's paper, but of some speech made at the dinner.
But whose fault is all this ? Not of the Association,
but the pubhc themselves; the editor of a paper
will of course publish that which will be read ; he
suits his publication to the public taste, he knows
that the vast mass cannot, indeed cannot understand
the communications of the learned ; it requires
previous knowledoe, and sometimes accurate and
extensive acquaintance, with a branch of science to
be aware of the importance of a communication ;
and is wisely withheld from such mediea of intelli-
izence as newspapers ; they are to be found, where
they ought to be, in the publications of the Society,
of which I shall presently speak.

But to conclude this part of my observations ; I
do not complain of the public taste, nor of the editors
of papers. I do not expect all the world to be phi-
losophers; but I complain of those persons, whether
writers or decl aimers, who have taken no pains to
inform themselves of the actual proceedings of the
Association. For, I will venture to say, that not
one in a hundred of them have read the four volumes
which have been published, and many have not even
taken the pains to read the condensed statements of
the substance of the papers read, which have appeared
in the " Athenseiim,'' paper, the ** Edinburgh Jour-
nal," and m the '^ Philosophical Magazine. With

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 255

regard to the publications of the Association, in
four years, four thick octavo volumes, each contain-
ing 700 pages, have been printed and published, not
certainly in any splendid form to attract attention
from the superficial, but duly attending to the object
of obtaining a more general attention to science, by
rendering a volume, containing so much matter,
cheap to the public, and with a view of disseminating
the information it contains, volumes are presented to
most of the provincial institutions, like our own,
gratuitously. With regard to their contents, I can-
not claim an intimate acquaintance with so many
learned treatises on various branches of science, but
I can venture to assert that no society in Great Bri-
tain and Ireland has, in the same space of time,
published an equal quantity of Jearned information.
I do, therefore, claim for the Association, both in
their proceedings and their publications, a strict ad-
herence to their original design of giving a strong
impulse, and a more systematic direction to scientific
enquiry.

Let us now proceed to inquire, how far another
object has been realized, and is likely to be perpetu-
ated ; the promotion of the intercourse of those who
cultivate science in different parts of the British
empire with one another; it is needless to dwell on
the success of this portion of the design, at all our
meetings we see congregated the philosophers of all
the leading towns in the United Kingdom, from
Penzance to Aberdeen, and to Belfast, affording
such delightful occasions of intercourse and commu-
nication as no other institution has provided for its
members. For be it remembered, that wealth and
science, though we perceive them to be assimilated
in some instances, yet do not generally combine,
and any metropolitan society would not afford the
same opportunity of attending its meetings as an
itinerant body affords. Neither w^ould a metropolitan
population take the same pains to afford gratuitous
accommodation, and cheap places of entertainment,

256 THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

as have been afforded at Oxford, Cambridge, Edin-
burgh, and Dubhn.

Again, with regard to the introduction to foreign
philosophers ; by what other means, could they have
been so effectually brought in juxta-position with
the philosophers of Great Britain and Ireland. I
have already alluded to the names of many of the
eminent men who have been brought to our country
by a desire to participate in the numerous advantages
afforded by this Association. And I need only refer
you to the friendships, which such communion is
likely to occasion and mature ; and what an advan-
taoe it is to a man in the pursuit of any branch of
Science, to have an opportunity of conferring with
minds bent on similar pursuits, and congenial enqui-
rers to induce you to accord to me, that this intention
has been perfectly realized.

I come now to the consideration of another point ;
the obtaining a more general attention to the objects
of science ; stationary and Metropolitical Societies
can never occasion, — can never excite men to such a
general attention as occasional and itinerant assem-
blies will do ; the very circumstance attending the
assembly of so many eminent men, cannot fail to
attract the attention of all others ; but it has a better
effect, by bringing to a fixed point, the labours of
the learned ; do we not all feel, and acknowledge,
that when an hour is fixed for the delivery of an
essay in this hall, whatever our other occupations
are, and how difficult it is to obtain leisure for its
composition, yet it is done ; so with regard to man-
kind in general, such is our disposition to postpone
labour, that, if fixed periods are not determined on,
time passes on, and the fruition of our labours is not
accomplished. It is therefore a most desirable cir-
cumstance, that an annual period is fixed, at which
promised reports must be prepared ; communications
of discoveries, or theoretical suggestions, if desired
to be preserved to their authors must be made,
least before the revolution of a similar period, these

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 267

suggestions may be claimed by some other investi-
gator. Then with regard to the removal of any
disadvantages of a public kind which impede the
progress of science. — Here I apprehend we touch
on a most important topic, which the short lived
existence of the Association has hitherto only en-
abled them to develope their infantine efforts, though
even those have been beneficial to science, but with
the vigour of their youth, and in the maturity of
their manhood, I anticipate that the efforts will be
commensurately powerful and efficacious. But
before I enter on the consideration of their influence
on our Government, our universities, and our learned
institutions ; I must advert to the beneficial influence
already experienced in the appropriation of their
funds.

In the last year, the sum of £860., and in the
present, £1,700., have been voted to various com-
mittees and individuals, for the investigation of a
variety of scientific subjects, which cannot be carried
on without pecuniary disbursement, and that few in-
dividuals are enabled to defray out of their private
funds, and which it is but fair the public should pay
for. And in this appropriation our neighbourhood
has not been overlooked, for in the last y^ar, £20.
was voted to the late Mr. Harvey, to be by him dis-
tributed in defraying certain expenses incurred in the
execution of thermometrical observations at Ply-
mouth ; and, in this year, the sum of £50. has been
placed at the disposal of Mr. Snow Harris, for those
registrations which have been carried on, under his
direction, at the Plymouth Dock-yard, for the last
three years, and have enabled him to produce to the
British Association such a series of meteorological
observations as have never before been seen ; and, it
will be remembered, those grants are the only ones
that have been applied for from the West of England.
What a new impulse, therefore, is given to every sci-
entific enquirer, in the pursuit of his investigations ;
ill vain would he have sought pecuniary assistance

VOL. VI. — 1835. II

258 THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

from our govemraent, or our public institutions ; but
here the student sees a new light break on him and
cheer his efforts, which, but ibr this aid might have
sunk into despondency and despair. But with
regard to the influence on our government, of whom
I am about to speak, as totally unconnected with
any party ; for 1 can pay no compliments to either ;
it is notorious, not only to our own country, but to
the whole world, that very little has been done by
the government of England for the promotion of
science, by whatever name the ruHng power has
been designated. Arago told us last year, (as I re-
ported to you) that if our government would patron-
ize science in earnest, more might be done by it than
by ail the rest of the world, when the extent of our
colonies and our naval power was contemplated.
But, absorbed in political discussions, foreign and
domestic, and embarrassed with pecuniary difficulties,
the interests of science have been postponed until a
more convenient opportunity. But this will not be
always so, and the combination of so many illustri-
ous men, many of them members of the legislature,
and otherwise influential from their rank in society,
and their property, will demand an attention from
the Government, which no individual could procure,
however talented and endowed.

The Governments of France and England have
already adopted means for ascertaining the rise and
fall of the tides in their respective harbours, and of
registering and perpetuating the observations made.
The trigonometrical Survey of Ireland, which, at one
time, on account of its expence, was proceeding with
snail-like progress, has been reanimated by the repre-
sentations of the British Association, and now bids
fair to be early completed. Parts of it were exhibi-
ted to the Geological and Geographical section, at
the Survey Oflice, in the Phoenix Park, and I heard
but one universal meed of praise offered, on the
manner in which it had been executed, and was pre-
paring for public use and inspection.

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 259

t am also happy to add, that the influence of the
IJritisJi Association on the Government is about to
be tested by an application to them immediately,
praying that an expedition may be sent out to the
Antarctic Regions, for the purpose of discovering the
exact position of the Southern Magnetic Pole. The
Society are aware that the late voyage of Sir John
Ross, to the Arctic Regions, has been the means of
ascertaining the North-West Magnetic Pole.

It may be expected, that I should now enter on
some detail of the actual proceedings of the Associ-
ation, during their late sojourn in Dublin, and, as far
as that is practicable, I will endeavour to do so ;
but, for the reasons I shall presently assign, you will
perceive the difficulty of doing so.

The Provost and Fellows of Trinity College, a
very extensive establishment, had appropriated every
part of their buildings to the service of the British
Association. In their hall we assembled for the
transaction of general business ; in their numerous
apartments many of the members were provided with
lodgings ; in another hall any member might obtain
his breakfast; and, besides the splendid banquet
which terminated our week of enjoyment, their tables
were open to us on all occasions. The Mathematical
and Physical section, the Chemical and Mineralogi-
cal, and the Statistical, were provided with apart-
ments in the College for their lectures, discussions,
the exhibition of apparatus, and the experiments de-
signed to be communicated by members. The Royal
Dublin Society, situated but a short distance from
the College, afforded ample accommodation to the
Geological and Geographical section, in a capacious
Theatre, used by the society as their lecture room.
And, in another apartment, the Natural History
section met, and both were accommodated with se-
parate committee rooms. The Royal Irish Academy,
in the immediate vicinity, accommodated the Anato-
mical and Medical section, besides permitting the
Genera Committee to assemble in their library.

260

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

And here I should mention that the libraries of all
their institutions, as well as the museums of the Royal
Dubhn Society, and the College of Surgeons, were
gratuitously open to the British visitors. Having
now enumerated six sections, and which I find w^ere
increased to seven, it being found impossible to dis-
pose of the mass of business that oppressed the
Mathematical and General Physic department ; and
therefore, on Thursday, a sub-section for the Useful
Arts was instituted ; and the increasing interest felt
in the subject of Civil Engineering induced the As-
sociation to establish a new permanent section, for
Mechanical Science as applied to the Arts. It is obvi-
ously then impossible for any individual to give an
account, from his personal knowledge, of their simul-
taneous proceedings ; and indeed 1 should imagine
that very little benefit would be derived by any indi-
vidual unless he confined his attention to one of these
sections. Having done so myself, I know little that
occurred, except in the Geological section ; and these
communications, though highly important, are not
of a nature to be communicated in such a report as
I am now rendering. From other sources, 1 appre-
hend the communications in the Mathematical and
Physical section, and that of the Medical and Ana-
tomical department, to have been pre-eminently
important and useful. Whoever desires to see what
was actually done in each section, will obtain an
immediate account by referring to the Nos. of the
^^Athenseum," paper, which may be seen in our own
library, as well as in the Public Library, and is
in the hands of many individuals. More ample and
detailed accounts are given in the " Philosophical
Magazine," of London, and the '* Edinburgh New
Philosophical Journal," both to be found on our
Library Table. But the student, who requires am-
ple, accurate, and detailed information for the assist-
ance of his studies, must await the publication of
another volume of the Transactions of the Association,
which we were promised should be proceeded with^
with all possible dispatch.

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 261

Our evenings were spent in a large circular room,
and thence called the Rotunda, capable of containing
2,000 people ; the admission here was very indis-
criminate, not confined to members; and a very-
large proportion of the auditory were ladies, and it
had, both at Edinburgh and Dublin, the appearance
of a common evening's fashionable exhibition. Some
of our leading men delivered lectures, which were
invariably found fault with, they were either too
profound for such an audience ; or, if popular, then
were too trifling, and dull and insipid. This appro-
priation of the evenings has undergone much dis-
cussion, but it must be admitted, that the majority
of our general committee support them, holding with
Professor Sedgwick, their great champion, that we
must render ourselves acceptable to the general
population wherever we resort, and not shut our-
selves up with monkish seclusion ; I must own I re-
main unconvinced of the truth of these opinions. I
prefer infinitely the retiring again to our sectional
rooms, where some information is to be acquired ; for
I must own that small indeed is the benefit I derive
from a lecture, when 2,000 persons are present, when
my eyes are assailed with a thousand objects that
attract them, and when my ears have the greatest
difficulty to hear continuously and effectually. Nei-
ther can I regard Sedgwick, Dr. Lardner, or Babbage,
with the same degree of veneration that I behold
them in the Sectional rooms. In the former they
appear to me as panders to a bad system. If ladies
must be admitted, they should be seated, as at Ox-
ford, in galleries by themselves, none will then come
but those who are really anxious for miprovement ;
but if they are to be attended, as in ball rooms and
theatres, it cannot but tend to diminish the respecta-
bility of a scientific body. I am aware I am not
speaking the sentiments of the British Association,
but, anxious as I am for its permanency and renown,
I will not fail to raise my voice against an infringe-
ment of the orio:inal desim. Great inconvenience

262 THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

was experienced also by the attendance of ladies in
some of the sectional rooms, this is indeed contrary
to the laws and rules of the society, and very few of
the Scottish ladies infringed the rule ; but either the
ardour of the Irish ladies, or the greater gallantry of
the Irish chairman in the sectional rooms, occasioned
the Geological theatre to be half filled with ladies.
And in some other sections great inconvenience was
experienced by the difficulty lecturers and debaters
laboured under in treating their subjects, being
obliged to abstain from statements and allusions^
which to females would appear to be indelicate, this
is however perfectly absurd when investigating a
scientific subject. The British Association have, I
think, laid themselves open to animadversion m this
respect, and, if this intrusion be not checked, it will,
I fear, be subsequently attended with disadvantage
to the society.

I would now gladly read the whole of Professor
Hamilton's report of the state and progress of the
society, which is annually prepared, and read by
one of the secretaries, at the first public meeting.
But as this also is contained in the " Athenaeum"
paper, I must content myself with a reference to its
pages ; and one short quotation from it, containing
as it does, a summary of the advantages resulting
from such an association, n^any of which I have ad-
verted to, but which are here comprised in a com-
prehensive form.

" What other societies do upon a small scale, this
^* does upon a large ; what others do for London,
" or Edinburgh, or Dublin, this does for the whole
"triple realm of England, Scotland, and Ireland;
"its gigantic arms stretch even to America and
" India, insomuch that it is commensurate with the
"magnitude and the majesty of the British Empire,
" on which the Sun never sets : but it is not merely
" in its magnitude and universality, and consequently
"higher power of stimulating intellect through sym-
" pathy, that this Association diflers from others.

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION. 263

^^ It differs also from them in its constitution and
" details ; in the migratory character of its meetings ;
^' in encouraging oral discussion through its several
" separate sections, as the principal medium of
"making known among its members the opinions,
" views, and discoveries of each other, in calling
*' upon eminent men to prepare reports upon the ex-
" isting state of knowledge, in the principal depart-
" ments of science ; and in publishing only, abstracts
" or notices of all those other contributions, which
" it has not as a body called for ; in short, in
" attempting to induce men of science to w^ork more
" together than they do elsewhere ; to establish a
" system of more strict co-operation between the
"labourers in one common field, and thus, to effect
" more fully, than other societies can do, the com-
" bination of intellectual exertions."

I hope I have satisfied your cool and deliberate
judgment that the British Association have not been
neglectful of the objects for which they were associ-
ated ; if I have not read to you a list of the papers
which were produced in each sectional room, I have
abstained, because such an enumeration could with
difficulty be remembered, and therefore be of no use
to you ; if any of you desire to be acquainted with
them they may be perused at your leisure, and in
retirement, when it will be of use, as your own library
furnishes you with publications containing all this
information.

It w^ill have appeared, that our time was not
wholly s])ent in fetes and dinners.

If two or three hours were given up to sociability
in the evening, it was after the whole morning had
been devoted to labour.

I am free to confess, however, that I earnestly
wish ; now that we return to England, and are to
visit provincial towns, that these festivities could be
mainly dispensed with. For it must be admitted,
that they do not form a good preparation for scien-
tific investigation or for preserving a recollection of

264 THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION.

what is past. I grant that relaxation is necessary,
the human mind is not capable of such constant
tension, but these amusements may be found amongst
ourselves, at our ordinaries and evening parties,
where opportimities are afforded of communicating
with men w hich no other occasion furnishes. Jiut I
will appeal to your feelings, as Englishmen, whether
it would have been seemly, courteous, and friendly
at any time, and more especially in the present pe-
riod, when representing Eno^land for the moment, in
the Scotch and Irish capitals, to have refused any of
the modes by which iheir kindness and hospitality,
and warm-hearted friendship were tendered, it was to
you, it was to England, they were proffered. Could
we, as Englishmen, refuse such offerings of brotherly
attachment, under the guise of cold philosophy ?
No ! our country would have repudiated us as un-
worthy sons, we received with open arms the gene-
rous ])rofFer of friendship from Scotchmen and
Iiishmen as our brothers, and in the Zoological
Gardens of the Phoenix Park, and the Botanical
Gardens of Glasnevin, we regarded not so much the
viands, splendid and mao;nificent as they were, as
we hailed the union of hearts and minds ; which,
however designated by local divisions, were still
all British, were united in one common object for
the benefit of the whole race of man, as well as to
promote the welfare, increase the happiness, and
raise the character of the inhabitants of the Brit sU
Isles.

265
RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

Continued from page 169.

Like a school-boy who looks forward to a closely approaching
*' break up/' so looked I to the morrow, for the sequel of Mr.
Crumplehorn's tale, and so full was my mind of what it m«fi[A^
be, that dreams gave me a fictitious semblance of what it was.
** Oh dear," soliloquized I, when I awoke, " what a worrying-
hour the hour of anticipation — what a distracting propensity that
of eager curiosity, which, ere due time arrives, exercises the
imagination in a thousand-fold reverie, and in a manner the most
excruciating.

The evening came, and I was prompt to my promise. I found
Mr. Crumplehorn seated in his chair, as usual, in the act of
filling his pipe, with a brown jug of cider on the hob of the fire-
place. A clumsy circumstance, however, gave a check to my
longing, for by a rig of a fellow-apprentice (a turn-over of 20),
whose age ought to have furnished his mind with better thoughts,
and directed his hands to better deeds, I was called upon to tell
my story to Mr. Crumplehorn, and consequently await his
own.

And be it thus. This waggish youth had caught a cat in the
office, and, knowing poor pussy's introduction was unsolicited,
he fancied himself at liberty to punish such forwardness by tail-
piping her. Being, I suppose, all eagerness to carry his plan
into execution, he found time too pressing for any nicety in the
choice of the article, and the first thing that came to his hands
was the first adopted. Ignorant of what had happened, I
walked through the avenue to my accustomed avocations, as
unconcerned as unsuspecting, until my attention was excited by
the number of people whom I saw around the door-ways, and
from the windows, and I heard among the buzzing little multi-
tude, the cry of shame, to "sarveapoor dumb creater such a
trick." Unfortunately, my good character, and the good-will
at all times manifested towards me, did not screen me from sus-
picion. Esau, reflected I, has been up to some mischief; yet I
made no inquiry until I saw him, for fear, that if he were a party,
such inquiry might be construed a subterfuge for my own inno-
cence, and I, in the end, taken as a co-partner in the mischief.

Entering the passage, I stooped to pick up a piece of packing
cord, and, for the first time, and I think the only time in my life,
suffered for economy's sake. I had scarcely arisen, with an in-
tention to proceed up stairs, when I was called by name by the
baker, and, retracing my steps, and asking him what he wanted,
he echoed, "What do I want, you scoundrel ? why to knock
your head ofi"— I see you have a piece of the very cord in your
hand." The man's looks were enough. ** The cord," 1 said,
" is yours, if you please — my head is best where it is — I want

VOL. VI. — 1835. KK

266 KANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

il/' This reply brought harsher words, which so terrified me
that I thought the safer plan was flight while whole, and 1 gained,
as may be conjectured, the stair-head as soon as possible, and
that too minus

" a longing, lingering look behind."

Entering the office I was asked by Esau the cause of all the
row in the lane. "Perhaps," I replied "you can better tell.
It is enough for me to assure you that the baker threatens to
knock off my head. — I believe him in earnest — he looks his
intention — so, to save my head, I have brought it thus far in
a hurry. But Esau," 1 continued, "as I have not been on
the premises for tlie last hour, 1 think it any thing but fair that
the innocent should suffer for the guilty ; and I also think, that
if a man has courage enough to commence a rig, it should not
forsake him in its consequences." " W hat do you mean, sir,''
frowned Esau. " Do not sir me, Esau," I replied, "you have
heard my words, and I mean their full import — go to the
offended man, who is at the bottom of the stairs, and tell him I
have not tail-piped his cat — and if you like, you, probably can
say who did."

Esau, who by the bye was an arch rogue, had the best of all
roguish qualities — that of keeping the most unchanged coun-
tenance on any charge, however sudden or serious " What,"
exclaimed Esau, "the baker threaten to knock off your head ?
— where is he?" then rushing to the street, he came into close
contact with his opponent. It was enough for me to be a spec-
tator of the fray, so, popping my head out of the office window, I
could distinctly hear and observe all that was said or done.
Esau challenged the man of meal — dared him to hurt his young
fellow-apprentice, as he termed me, and showing a menacing
attitude, followed the baker to his door. The man was cooly and
laughed : but, otherwise his wife. She came forth as if vomited
red-hot from the oven's mouth. " Will you dare follow my
husband, you scoundrel, will you dare tail-pipe my cat I I can
leave all my meat, I can, fellow, upon the hutches, and my cat
will never touch a bit — and yet she must be tail-piped by you ! "
These words were uttered so quickly, and with so much emphasis,
that the poor woman was obliged to resort to her hands for a
forcible finale ; and, sousing a huge mop into a pail of dirty
water, drenched so unexpectedly and completely the threatening
Esau, that he was glad to avoid the enraged Amazon, and seek
my altitude.

Shortly after this affair, Mr. Crumplehorn entered the lane,
and closely following his steps came one I dreaded more, not
that I had any occasion to complain of, or fear either, for both
were kind and good ; but my concern rested upon a doubt —
whether they would inquire the matter, and think with the baker
that I had occasioned it.

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 267

Fortunately, the time of wliich I speak, was a time o( piping-
hot war, and in a heterogenious and densely populated vicinity,
a row was, at least, a daily occurrence ; so things went off to rcy
wish, if not to my expectation. But there was yet one trifle that
troubled me. I came over for my shoes, being accustomed to
follow my work in slippers. This cat-tailing affair had therefore
been the source of delay, and to prevent a further, I looked about
in a hurried manner for them. After a tiresome search I could
find but one, and asking Esau if he had seen the other, I was
answered by a sharp "no!" For this harsh reply I could
easily account. The best of men are but sorry in placidity when
tormented, let the torment arise as it may : but when a torment
approaches to mortification, a snap is civility. " They were
here,'' I meekly remarked, "not long since.'' "Some old shoes
were, I know," said Esau, "with one of which, I tail-piped the
hussy's cat." "What, Esau?" I inquired, "with one of my
best shoes?" " Best shoes," repeated Esau, " if such dirty shoes
be your best, the sooner you are rid of them the better." This
I considered but poor satisfaction,! was not big enough to reply,
so my lack of physical means was made up by philosophy. I
even smiled at my loss ; for now I thought the baker must know,
that I did not punish his cat, as I should never have selected a
new shoe for the purpose : and yet to ask him for this shoe was
out of the question.

So much time had been lost, that I fancied it preferable to
meet my call with slippers and a run, than with one shoe and
a hop ; but, ere putting my resolve into effect, I had to pass a
connecting passage, having windows on each side, with folding
shutters. The eastern window was in general kept open. The
western never. This had iron bars — that had not, and neither
was glazed. From the former we looked upon a roof of a base-
ment passage, at the extremity of which was a framed railing to
heighten an adjoining garden wall, and, fortunately, at the foot
of this railing, I espied my shoe. Proceeding to the spot, I
picked it up, found a piece of the cord fastened to it, and, to my
regret, discovered, that an inch-wide cut had been made with a
penknife through the heel. Damaged as was my shoe, I reco-
vered it with thankfulness, as little short of a miracle, for the
bars of the frame were distant enough for any two cats, and how
my shoe, which was so much less, escaped pussy company, I
was at a loss to account, unless by supposing that the velocity of
the cat had curled it round a rail, and thus made it optional that
one or both should halt mid-way.

In the moment of painful reflection on the sufl^erings of poor
pussy — the shock it must have given her tail — the tightness with
which Esau must have bound the cord on — the size of the cord,
&c. — I could not refrain from telling Esau that I had recovered
my shoe, but damaged. " Well for you and the undencriters,"'
said Esau, " in future keep your best shoes clean, so that, should

268 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP.

I need one again, I may be enabled to avoid a similar mistake."
I '* pocketed "thtMnsult, as idle folks say, and set off for my
errand, but not without censure whence censure was expected.

Here, for the present we will dispense with Esau — if not for
the future; but as the following hint (which I shall enlarge upon
in an " essay on rigs") may fall on good ground, I am inclined to
moralize. I have therefore only to remark, that if my attention
had been called to such nonsense as was recommended by Esau's
example, some other person must have told this tale. I was
either too stupid or too timid, had better advisers, and was made
to follow their advice — or, as 1 have noticed before, ** it is as it
was to be." I am however still inclined to this reflection; that
if but one half the time in early life were put to tlie wholesome
credit of after-life, fifty out of every hundred would be found
qualified for the most diflScult branches of their respective pro-
fessions, and a hundred to one would be gainers in the two-fold
luxury of competence and happiness.

This was the story which I regretted I had to tell Mr. Crum-
plehorn, instead of being told the remainder of his own. The
baker, the baker's wife, poor pussy, and my shoe, created
in turns so many questions and caused so much laughter,
that I was fearful my time would be like my patience — quite
exhausted.

At this early period I was not the owner of a watch, nor had
I any occasion for one. His ovni cuckoo told me, that half an
hour only remained. My continual notice of the clock, which
was in part occasioned by my concern how I should avoid the
baker, at length excited the attention of Mistress, who, recollect-
ing Mr. Crumplehorn's promise about the contniuation of his
tale, recruited his memory. Greatly rejoiced was I at this cir-
stance. Most readily would I have prevented her, and much
earlier; but doubtful how it might be taken, I suffered the
subject to pass on. It was enough, I thought, for him to pro-
mise, and too-much for me to remind. Mrs. C. happily antici-
pated me, and Mister's story was resumed.

" 1 believe I told you how I got home," said Mr. Crumple-
horn. " No, no,'* returned his wife, " you only said that a bag
was put into your hand, and that Mistress remarked they were
guineas." *' i^eggy," said Mr. C, " that word sounds badly —
why not say mother." " Well, well, Mr. Crumplehorn,"
rejoined Mrs. C, "you know I always did call her so — for
was n't she Mistress then.'' " True, true," said Mr. C. (smiling)
" we were speaking oUfien, so right enough — had we been speak-
ing of 7ioWy it would be wrong enough, for I do not like the
word, nor would she, if living. Well, Mr. — this bag was put
into my hand : but it was not my belief poor mother's words
were true ; and perceiving .sister's hawk-eye directed to me, I
was unwilling to convince myself, which would have satisfied
her, and disobliged my mother ; and rather than the last, I am

RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP. 269

sure I could have done any thin^. I knew that I had a good
side pockety and was determined, be the contents of the bag
what it may, to examine it, previously to placing the money
there. The pocket was sound and I was satisfied— for I believe
that during the time I had the coat it contained nothing bevond
a small biscuit for baby.

** What refreshments I took during the long time I remained
in the house, I cannot ^ell. I know I was at home with the
cyder, and, that such a luxury at my own home was abroad ;
and I may also have taken a little grog. These together, must
have made me thoroughly tipsy, had not so many changes from
concern to grief, and grief to wonder, and wonder to joy, checked
the bad effects of liquor. As it was, I felt otherwise than usual.
I was always equal to much — and, smelling the keen air, now to
much more. 1 fancied I could fly, walking was out of the
question. I recollect bidding mother, and indeed all, good night
— but of what transpired between this and my house, I knew
nothing. Of the time I took in coming home I was alike
ignorant; but scores of hours since, in thinking and dreaming
of the circumstance , I have thought and dreamt that I did in
reality fly."

" And if he did not,'' said Mrs. C, "he must have done some-
thing very like it, from the state in which Mr. C. was."

Mr. C. continued. "Home I came. When I entered my
own grounds, I found Peggy crying. * Holloa,' said I, * what
is the matter ? Crying eh? 1 think I can make you laugh; —
and then, seating myself in a chair, I commenced laughing
myself. * Hush, hush/ said Peggy, ' the neighbours will hear
you.* ^And what if they do,' said I ; Met them hear if they
like.' * My dear,' said she * what is the matter, you appear out
of breath — rest yourself.' And then, so Peggy says, I fell back
in the chair quite exhausted."

" I was never so frightened in my life," said Mrs. C, " all
Mr. C. mentioned before leaning back was, * I have my pocket
full of silver.' I did not mind silver, for my part. I took off
his hat and neckcloth, and was going to wipe his face with cold
water, but finding him as wet as the sea, I rubbed him well with
a dry towel. I smelt he had taken spirits — a thing which he
had not perhaps before done since our marriage, and I put
it down to this. W^hen Mr. C. had recovered, I gave him
some warm tea, and very shortly afterwards he put his hand
to his head, and sung out, ' Oh, it is going round — Oh ! there,
pop it goes, I am as well now, Peggy, as I ever was in my life,
what is the matter V At his question I could not help laughing.
He said a noise went off' in his head like a gun ; and from that
minute he was as we /I as when he left me."

*' It is all very true," said Mr. C. " Having recovered, I
felt very sore, but was quite sober. I told Peggy that I had a
bag full of silver given me by father, but she remarked, * odds

270 RANGE OF APPRENTICESHIP

figs about your silver, you have no such thing, for I have searched
both your pockets ; if you had it, you have lost it, and I hope
you will always do so, if to get silver is to make one so miser-
able. This expression startled me; I trembled hand-fast.
' Lost my money 1 ' I exclaimed. * There is nothing in your
pockets but your handkerchief, and a bit of the child's biscuit,'
said Peggy. * What ! ' so placing my hand with violence
against my side, I felt the bag. Dear, dear, dear, this last
feeling was more severe than any former, for I shook so fast
and so long, that my own baby might have knocked me down.
^' My next concern was as touching the contents of the bag.
I begged Peggy to lock the door, lest any of the neighbours
might come up. * You have nothing to fear from your neigh-
bours,^ said she — * look at the time.* Looking at the clock,
* there,' remarked Mr. C, pointing to it, *is the same old clock,'
I found the hour nearly two, late, or rather early enough you
may suppose to seek rest; but I was eager to know the contents
of the bag, and prepared for it, by putting the things off the table
and laying thereon a drugget, to prevent the noise of money. I
had scarcely effected so much, when I fancied that I heard foot-
steps, and these becoming plainer and plainer I hurried up my
bag, placed it into my side pocket, and stood with the candle in
my hand listening by the door. At length, all doubt removed, I
called out, who is there?' * It is only I, Mr. C. hearing foot-
steps over-head, father thought something was amiss, and
begged I would get up and see.' * I am much obliged Mrs.
Strap,' said I, ' nothing is amiss, I thank you, 1 have been into
the country to day, and am just come home.' * Oh ! I be so
glad,' said poor Mrs. Strap, ' father and I shall sleep happily
now.' This good old creature was the wife of Mr. Strap the
tailor, who had apartments on the floor under us; and as kind
neighbours they were as could possibly live.

" This over, I again prepared to examine my bag. When I
found its contents were guineas I was all eagerness to count
them. I hit upon one plan, which was to go to bed and put
the candle out, then give my wife the bag and count them into
my night cap, and by way of proving the sum to recount them
into the bag. In this plan [ was however opposed. She re-
marked, and 1 think very justly, that from the feverish state in
which I then was, a cold might follow; and as I had once se-
verely suffered from a chill, I readily agreed with her that the
best plan would be to place the bag in a comer of our bureau
drawer, and await the morning to ascertain the number. Having
decided upon this, I prepared to lay me down to sleep, which
my fatigue courted but vvhich my newly-gotten wealth dispelled,
and I had not long meditated on a nap, before I heard an uproar
in the street. Voices were loud, but indistinct, yet on nearer
approach the conversatiou of the parties was audible. I now
heard my brother Luke's voice. * Why Tim lives in that rooni

BANGE OF ArPRENTICESHIP. 271

where the light is,' said Luke, *for Jahn told me so. — Why he
is up — I see his shadow/ * Where V inquired another * why
there' answered Luke, * and Peg is up too, as I 'm a sinner
— we'll have a rig.* Who accompanied Luke I know not,
but I told Peggy to put out the light instantly, and to prevent
any nonsense I would hail my brother from the window, and
tell him what he had to expect, if he troubled me to come down.
The term * Peg is up* hurt me — and might have carried me,
fatigued as I was, farther than he would have liked or I wished.
" Going, as I thought, towards the window, I fell over a stool
and brought poor Mrs. Crumplehorn down with me. This was
vexing. I however soon recovered myself, and had to grope for
my suffering partner, who, from fall and fright, was senseless.
The noise from within and without, roused up again Mr. and
Mrs. Strap. They fortunately fancying the whole proceeded
from the street, opened their window, and then asking what was
wanted, were saucily asked by Luke whether, Tim lived there ?
*Tim,* said Mr. Strap, ^ 1 '11 Tim 'e, you noisy, drunken
fellows, I '11 Tim 'e.' This expression of poor disturbed Mr.
Strap brought a remonstrance from my brother's companions,
that it was best to start, and a remark from Mr. Strap that they
would *find it so,' and no sooner were these words uttered, than
the old man sprung a rattle, which he kept suspended over his
chimney piece, when off scampered the sparks as quickly as
rakish heels could carry them.

^* I was now desirous, from the great trouble which I had
occasioned these good folks, to make it appear that I was alto-
gether ignorant of the parties, so I opened my room door and
inquired the matter. * Nothing, my dear soul,' said Mrs. Strap,

* only some fellows in the street, that were I suppose about to
break into the house ; and father has driven them off by springing
his rattle. I hope it has not frightened poor Mrs. Crumplehorn,'

* Not much ma*ara,' answered Peggy. I thanked Mr. and Mrs.
Strap, and wished them * good night,' though I could not follow
it up with ' all 's well,' from the trouble which I and my family
had occasioned them ; but knowing that I was rich, I fancied it
in my power to make them some trifling amends, without
blabbing the intention before the deed.

*' With this thought, and a yet stronger even that of count-
ing over my money, I commenced ray early nap; but the visit I
received in the morning, the fright of my mother and household
in the country, from a ghost story, and other laughable matters,
I think I may put off till another evening. * And indeed,' said
I, looking at the cuckoo, * now you can with propriety, for if I
stop to hear more, I myself must expect to be put off. *This and
thus terminated our evening ; and I departed ; but not without
again being reminded of tlie baker, whom to avoid gave rae a rout
of some few hundred feet additional to my usual homeward track.

To be continued.

272
H E M A N S.

The sun was sinking gorgeously and bright
Behind the summit of the cloud-capt hills.
Tinging all nature with its crimson rays ;
While from the bosom of the vesper wave,
Flashed up a flood of glory, blending sweet
With the deep tincture of the horizon's blue.
Then on the summit of a mountain lone,
I laid me down to gaze upon the scene
The glorious landscape that beneath me lay
In all its splendour, — 'till my raptured soul
Drank from fair Nature's all inspiring fount
A portion of her essence ! I musing then
On the departed spirits of our land —
The mighty of the mind, whose deathless songs
Have shed a halo round our sea-girt isle —
Sacred to genius I *till my phrenzied eye
Could trace their shadows in the aerial void
Flit past me through the air, at once, methought,
The many tinted clouds which erst had roiled
Above me, quick descended, 'till they wrapt
As with a mantle bright, the mountain's brow
Which trembled like an aspen; till I seem'd
Born upwards thro' the vast etherial plaiu
And onward bending mid the trackless void
Methought towards the portals of Heaven's gate !
Before whose golden pillars dazzling bright
Appear'd the spirits of the mighty dead —
They who in life this nether world had filled
With harmony surpassing as to create
A paradise below ! — The sons of Poesy.
Immortal chaunters of undying song!
There stood they breathing of empyrean air,
All gazing down upon the azure space,
Towards the confines of this lower world.
Waiting to herald with celestial joy,
A sister spirit to her glorious home I
At length there bounded from amid the group,
As if impatient of the coming hour,
A godlike spirit! around whose brows

HEMANS. 273

A wreath of pansies and wild mountain flowers,

Twined in his own dark locks, encircled,

And then another of exalted mien

Radiant with glory, they their pinions spread

And cleft the glowing ether as they flew

To greet her coming.

There was pause !
But now, hark ! hark upon the listening ear
The trump of Azarial, minister of death !
From the grira tyrant of the world he comes
Bearing a spirit to her welcome home I
The portal *s past, while from that noble throng
Rise strains of melody, — they loudly sing
A joyous greeting to their sister ba^rd —

Hail ! hail, sister spirit.

Thou gifted one hail !
Thou art come to inherit.

From the earth's lonely vale,
Thy home in the heavens, —

We have sought for thee long,
And we welcome thy coming.

With music and song ;
From a world thou wert filling

With poesy's power,
Bright virtue instilling

We greet thee this hour ;
Then come, sister spirit !

Thou gifted one come,
Thy blest home inherit

And join in our song.

The golden pillars of the heavenly gates
Grew faint and colorless ; the dazzling light
Which late on mine entranced senses streamed
From cut its radiant portals, had grown dim,
As the soft music of the spirit's hail
In lonely cadence died upon mine ear.
Till all had faded into twilight gloom.
The vision past away, — and I but stood
Upon the summit of that mountain's brow
Intently gazing on a star-lit sky.

J. BuRJUh'CTON.
VOL, vr. — 18.35. LL

274

PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OF THfi
STUDY OF NATURE.

" Haec studia adolescentiara alunt, senectutam oblectant, se-
cundasres oraant, adversis solatium, et perfugium praebent."

I HAVE been very frequently enquired of as to the
utility of studying Natural History, and as to the
propriety of spending time in making collections of
the various objects in this science. When one is
questioned as to the use of anything, which has a
variety of palpable advantages, and which has, by
the general consent of thinking people, been per-
mitted to hold a distinguished place amongst the
blessings and advantages of this life ; it is not won-
derful that, for the moment, he is deprived of the
power of explanation, and rendered incapable of
giving; an answer, which should do justice to the
subject. So it has happened with myself; and
I now venture on a formal replication to my querists
and others of like minds. On this side eternity, hap-
piness is the grand desideratum. Some men pursue
it by one route, and some by another ; each accor-
ding to the bent and inclination of his innate desires.
Some men's happiness is centered in the love of gain,
others enjoy an equal pleasure in distributing to
their utmost power. Some are infatuated as artists,
.or mechanics, others as natural philosophers; and
*t is thus that we explain the faults of some, who
bestow an undue proportion of their time in this
pursuit, at the expence of others at least as necessary,
and to the detriment of their worldly interests and
the objects of that calling ; which they have under-
taken.

More frequently we meet with minds in which a
nearer approach to an equilbrium of the propensities
and endowments is sustained ; still however, for rea-
sons which depend upon the original structure of the
mind, or on the education it has received, the con-
sideration of the productions of nature is consigped-
to exclusion, or amounts at most to superficial ob-
serations. It is highly probable, nay, I think it

PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OF &C. 275

certain — that the natural mind, the mind unfettered
by worldly affairs, unbiassed, unimpaired by its con-
nexions with the business of Hfe ; would of itself be
led to contemplate the works of nature, and even the
Omnipotence, and Omniscience of their Creator ; and
this is, I think, supported by the circumstance of
the involuntary admiration at the sight of the ex-
traodinary natural objects, which escapes most
persons ; and the devout wonder which seems to en-
sue ; but, until the education of youth shall consist
in the inculcation of right principles, and in the ac-
quisition of facts; instead of the premature instruction
in the jargon of classics, and in the forced and dis-
tended memory of words ; —until natural pursuits
and graces shall supersede fashionable accomplish-
ments, and until the cares and stratagems of life
shall be no longer needed, and the human mind be-
come the willing and natural victim of congenial and
purer pursuits : we cannot expect more, nevertheless
although we are not sanguine of seeing an improve-
ment in the system of education, and dare not hope
to see society reclaimed from its present condition ;
it will be right to enter on a justification of the study
of nature, and to exert the influence we possess by
inviting those whose time, talents, and opportunities
permit, to employ these towards improving our pre-
sent knowledge of Science.

We shall, previously to this, however, take notice
of a few objections which have been urged against
it, and some of its votaries and elucidators. We
have already granted the impropriety of an unlimited
attention to Natural History, whilst "(duties of another
kind are suffering neglect ; this we confess is no
unfiequent occurrence : but the same blame which
is here expressed by the world, is likewise bestowed
frequently on those who employ only their leisure
time in the pursuit, and on those who, having no
need to mix in worldly affairs, choose rather to
devote their time and money to the cause of science :
all are alike regarded as fanatics, as persons void of

■"276 PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OP

ordinary sensations, and alive only to a worthless
and useless occupation. In considering the many
advantages of Natural History, we shall furnisn
abundant means of replying to such as entertain
these ideas. Some persons will concede that it is
an innocent amusement, but they cannot conceive
that it is at all useful — the fallacy of this argument
will be likewise presently exposed. Ladies gener-
ally refuse to become naturalists from the fear that
their delicacy would receive too severe a shock, and
that they will be accounted " blue stockings.'' The
first excuse is founded on false delicacy, and is more-
over a subterfuge, which the remainder of their con-
duct sometimes but ill accords with. The second
reason is one which their good understandings forbid
them to avow, but which acts most powerfully in
deterring them. It is indeed lamentable to reflect
on the consequences of a defective, or rather an im-
proper education, especially that monstrously absurd
education bestowed on young females at the present
time; without which they are considered as unfit to
enter society, and with which they are debarred
from those pursuits which would constitute the great-
est pleasures of their existence. That refinement of
their education as it is termed, is in fact a system of
exclusion, whereby their actions, and their very
thoughts are restricted to the most narrow bounds.
Without objecting to the science itself, some persons
have stated that it is so encumbered by a jargon of
Latin names, that they despair of surmounting such
an obstacle, and so are deterred from becoming
naturalists. This subject of nomenclature we shall
on some future occasion discuss at length, and we
have only here to inform such persons, that Natural
History consists in the knowledge of things, and
that the knowledge of names, although useful and
even necessary among naturalists, is nevertheless
unessential in itself. With regard to the accusa-
tions brought against Natural-historians ; these are
of a serious nature ; but are sometimes ill-founded.

THE STUDY OF NATURE. 277

Atheists, and Irreligionists are to be met with too
frequently ; and if it has happened, that one or two
of these have been the authors of works on Natural
Science, and a few of them also students in it, we
should not thence argue, that this subject has given
rise to their views, or that Natural History and
Irreligion are in any way connected. It has how-
ever happened, and we regret to state it, that
natural philosophers have sometimes advanced athe-
istical opinions during their reasonings on some
abstruse subjects ; which they appear never before
to have entertained, and which we sincerely believe
they have afterwards had occasion to feel sorry at
having inculcated.

In regard to Geology, many persons are unneces-
sarily tenacious of any infringement on the generally
received interpretation of that portion of the Bible
where the creation and flood are spoken of, but let
it be observed that, among those who think it is ge-
nerally misunderstood, are men of undoubted piety
and worth, and that even if some geologists chose to
maintain that the book of Genesis was an allegorical
or fictitious narrative, the doctrines of religion and
morality are thereby no ways derogated. Let us
now turn to the arguments in favour of the study of
nature. We should not do justice to the subject,
nor to ourselves as advocates, were we to speak too
generally ; we shall rather show that the cultivation
of the knowledge of nature will benefit mankind at
large, besides the individual himself, who labours so
zealously in elucidating it ; that it will benefit the
uncivihzed as well as the polished nation, that it will
benefit any individual, whether learned or unlearned,
that it will have an influence modified according to
the character of the mind it is applied to, an influence
always salutary if the subject be rightly understood.
If we refer to the works of those naturalists who have
explored foreign countries, or who have laboured to
make themselves acquainted with the properties and
uses of the productions of their own countries, we

278

PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OF

perceive that great part of their industry has been
directed to the promotion of universal happiness,
that they have endeavoured honestly and zealously
to point out the means by which certain animals,
plants, or minerals might be advantageously em-
ployed in commerce, and contribute towards the
health, convenience and welfare of mankind at large,
or of one nation in particular ; that they have sought
with the utmost diligence and philanthropy to inform
themselves of the medicinal qualities of bodies before
neglected or unknown, and have lost no opportunity
collect a knowledge of the poisonous properties of
others ; that with a few exceptions they have striven
with their utmost power to direct men's minds in
the paths of science, industry, and virtue; that it
has been their care to demonstrate the advantages of
knowledge of every and any kind, to every and any
person, and that they have availed themselves with
alacrity of every occasion on which they could ad-
duce evidence of the wisdom, power, and goodness
of the God of Nature. In this manner have they
built for themselves an immortal monument, and by
forwarding the interests, and well-beiug of their
fellow mortals, and especially the wealth, and pros-
perity of their own countrymen, by placing in the
hands of scientific surgeons the means of dispelling
or alleviating human suffering, by making men gen-
erally aware of the noxious, and deadly qualities of
some subtances, or of the healthful, and nutritious
qualities of others ; and lastly, by directing us to
the acquisition of mental happiness in this, and in a
future world, have they recommended their actions
to their own approving consciences, to the admiration
and respect of their cotemporary men, and to the
grateful recollections of posterity.

We have said nothing but what we can most
amply prove ; but if we were to select instances they
might be invidious ; and to recite every case of this^^i
kind would fill volumes, we will do no more than^f^
request those who ure sceptical in the matter to ask

THE STUDY OF NATURE. 279

themselves — -whence are derived the necessaries, the
comforts, the elegancies of life, by which they are
surrounded ? We hear some one say that the innate
reason with which man is gifted, even in his rudest
and incohate state of existence, would prompt him
to convert the materials around him into these same
essentials and luxuries. No such thing : let us ra-
ther reply, on their behalf, that although man, in his
primitive and natural state, would assuredly find the
world as it now exists adapted to all his wants as a
mere animal (just as former epochs were suited ex-
clusively to animals of certain forms and habits, and
would not have afibrded the means of subsistence to
creatures of the preceding and subsequent seras),and
although there exists in him the love of society and
the impulse to subdue to his purposes certain pro-
ductions which might minister to his convenience.
Yet this same unpolished monarch of the creation
was destined for a civilized condition, he had origin-
ally given him the divine form, bodily endowments,
and a mind by which he might appropriate any of
the works of the creation, and assume an undisputed
sway over them — but he had likewise a divine mind,
his rude and unpolished state, therefore, was not
suited to his intellectual and divine nature, and we
find the course of things so ordered, that he is
gradually assuming; the highest condition of mental
refinement and elevation, and that whilst he has
laid aside the extended use of those senses and en-
dowments by which he enjoyed his animal existence,
he has substituted those moral powers by which he
can moie thon ever exercise his controul over nature,
and can also perceive with concern, and yet with
gratitude, the reasons for w^hich he has been called
to this state, the relation which he bears to God,
and the destiny of his soul hereafter ; how one of
the first fruits of mental refinement and civilization
in a well-ordered mind, is the contemplation of
nature ; the most natural consideration which v.e
are capable of in our youth, is as to tlie uses of

280 THE OAK.

natural bodies, and the intentions of natural phe-
nomena, and if we arrive at the conclusion that these
things have been submitted to our use, that some
have been destined to supply our bodily wants and
caprices, and some to excite our mind to reflection,
and call forth its various powers and energies, ought
it to excite surprize that individuals have been found
who in spite of every difficulty and deprivation, and
in spite of the sneers and thoughtless mockery of
multitudes, have exercised themselves in arranging
aud classifying the works of nature, in becoming
acquainted with their properties, and uses, and sub-
mitting the results of their investigations to the
powerful co-operation of the arts for the benefit of
the world.

To be concluded in our n«xt.

THE OAK.

In the midst of the village is seen

Tho' passing to feeble decay,
The old oak, on the top of the green.

Where the children assemble to play.

'Neath whose branches how many a tale
Has of love and of friendsliip, been told,

And the song of the maid in the vale,
Has re-echoed, in day-time of old.

And still where the may-pole is born,
Midst the noise of the villagers' lay,

Who dance till the light of the morn
Chases each to his cottage away.

Here the nightingale makes his retreat,
Where for ai^es he 's sat, when the smoke

Of the hamlet surrounded his seat,
On the boughs of the high village oak.

P. W. T.

281

PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION.
PROCEEDINGS IN THE ATHEN^UM.

October 29th. — Rev. S. Rowe*s Lecture on Utilitarianism^

Thi abstract of this interesting Lecture unfortunately was pre-
pared too late for the present number ; it shall appear in our
next.

November 5th. — Mr. Wightwick's Lecture on the
Poetical Writings of Pope,

The Lecturer commenced by stating that his reason for treating
on the present subject, was a feeling that the writings of Pope
were not receiving in the present day that attention which they
merited, as being the production of an original genius, a polished
critic, and a man of unusual acquirement.

He considered that the influence of modern poetry, and the
revival of Elizabethan literature, had proved conducive to a dis-
taste for the more studied but less impassioned ; the more classic,
but less agitating poetry of that intervening age, which was
chiefly distinguished by the genius of Dryden, Addison, and
Pope.

Having alluded to Cowper, as the first to break through the
trammels which this school had, in the progress of time, thrown
around poetry ; the lecturer proceeded to state, that he had
undertaken the present subject, less under the influence of
natural bias, than under that of duteous eflfort prompted by
candour. Devoted to the power of Shakspeare, the romantic
gloom of Byron, the pious simplicity of Cowper, and the specu-
lative daring of some others, it might be conceived that he
regarded with a somewhat subdued enthusiasm, the precision,
polish, and circumspect judgment of Pope; at any rate, he was
influenced by no prejudice.

The lecturer at this period of his discourse deprecated in
strong terms the conduct of those who formed their estimates
of an author's works from the opinions of others, without giving
themselves the smallest trouble in perusal, or the least exertion
in judging.

He attributed much of the difference of opinion, which fre-
quently arises between critics, and those who would be critics,
to a want of definition as to terms and expressions prior to dis-
cussion : he would therefore, before proceeding further, submit
to the audience the following definition of poetry : — Poetry pro-
fesses to convey sentiment, to excite feeling, and to expand
perception through an exalted medium furnished by the imagin-
ation. Having illustrated this definition by examples, the lec-
turer went on to observe that Pope must acquire tUc more
regard, in proportion as we allow the term poetry to be .H' re
VOL. VI.— 1835. MM ♦

282 PLYMOUTH INSTITUTION,

comprehensive. According to the definition which many would
give, much that Pope has written, would scarcely come under
the designation of poetry; for, it may be fully conceded, that he
has touched upon many subjects which might have been as
powerfully treated in prose ; and it must be at the same acknow-
ledged, that the harmony of numbers, considered with relation
to the essentials of a poem, is only as the polish of the diamond
when compared with the diamond itself. Having made some re-
marks on the questionable application of a rythmical dress to
subjects which might be treated in prose, he stated that Pope,
from a child, was a versifyer: "He lisp'din numbers ere the num-
bers came. ''It became a kabitwiih him to write in rhyme — he had
from nature, at least, a respectable share of the imaginative and
creative ; and the consequence has been the production of
several pieces of writing, which stand forward as felicitous com-
binations of philosophy, and fancy, judgment and wit.

In one virtue, Pope, as a writer, is surely matchless ; viz.
that of an acquaintance with the " reach'* of his own knowledge
and capability.

With every .deference, however, he would venture to submit,
that it is less by the force of any particular quality, than by the
economy of his several qualities, tha* Pope hjis rendered himself
so worthy of our regard. With a policy truly admirable, he
has maintained the most complete " balance of power" between
the different forces of his mind ; and it may be truly said, that,
if those forces were not individiudly supreme, they formed, in
their conjunction, a mighty phalanx. He had less feeling than
Byron, not more fancy than Moore, less subtlety than Shelley
or Coleridge, less susceptiblity than Wordsworth, and a less
excellent vein of satire than Cowper ; but he had feeling, as the
Epistle from Eloisa to Abelard sufficiently testifies ; he had
fancy, else was he not the author of the "Rape of the Lock ;" he
had subtlety as the " Essay on Man" undeniably evinces;
proofs of poetic susceptibility are many and great; the " Dun-
ciad" stamps him a finished Satirist; in the smartness of his wit
he is second to none ; in the severity of self-judgment he is su-
perior to all. He had every thing which, in Dryden, was
wanting ; he possessed, in a great degree, the excellencies to
which Dryden owes his fame. He is not, certainly, the poc/,
of whom England has most reason to be proud ; but he is, pro-
bably, the writer, of whom she may make the most efficacious
use in polishing the general mind of her people, and in winning
the admiration of her variedly constituted neighbours.

The lecturer next stated, that the writings of Pope, and
especially the] " Rape of the Lock," were better fitted than the
productions of any other English writer, to impress other
European nations (the Germans excepted, who could understand
Shakspeare) with a just notion of British genius. The "Rape of
vhe Lock" was characterised as elegant and vigorous, critically

THE THEATRE. 283

correct, and poetically woven, original in its nature, and powerful
in invention and description.

The "Essay on Man/' came next under the lecturer's consider-
ation, and he seemed to think, with Blair and Johnson, that
Bolingbroke furnished the material of this work, whilst Pope
invested it with the poetic and philosophic imagery for which it
is celebrated.

In dwelling upon the perspicuity which pervades the writings
of Pope, the lecturer condemned that straining after obscurity
and mystification which has been the besetting sin of some more
modern writers: his remarks and illustrations on this head were
couched in that strain of kindly satire which he knows so well
how to adopt.

Mr. Wightwick next proceed to recite, from the works of
the author under consideration, passages to exemplify his power
in depicting the picturesque, the gorgeous, the fanciful, the
melancholy, and the passionate. He then alluded to Dr. John-
son's criticisms, which appear in his life of Pope, and pronounced
them in all respects excellent.

The lecturer attributed much of Pope's excellence, to that
independence of spirit which scorned the exchange of praise for
money, nor ever opened a shop of condolence or congratulation.
He suffered coronations, royal marriages, &c. &c. to pass without
a song, his effusions were always voluntary, and his subjects
chosen by himself.

This excellent paper was concluded to the following effect; —
It is not Pope^s imagination — it is not his pathetic tenderness —
it is not his passionate intensity which I would maintain as
supreme, or even veri/ extraordinary ; but it is his profession of
these qualities in Jalr proportion, and his more than ordinary
shareof critical judgment — it is his knowledge of his own powers,
and his respect for the general reader of all countries and of all
.ges — it is his general perfection in humbler deeds, rather than
his partial fulfilment of loftier attempts — it is the health of his
genius rather than its strength — it is the independence of his
genius rather than its rank — it is the accomplished whole formed
of those various parts, which I would now advance as consti-
tuting his claims to occupy — not the^rs^ seat — but still a seat
in the loftiest level of the temple of Poetic Fame.

THE THEATRE.

Since our last publication, the Theatre has been opened for the
Winter season ; Mrs. Sandford having engaged a company of
performers whose talent is well deserving public patronage.

Amongst the old familiar faces, we have recognised that clever
actress, Mrs, Horsman, who has long been a favorite with the

284 THE THEATRE.

Plymouth play-goers. Vivash and Fuller have again added their
hearty, blue-devil-destroying visages to the company, and Butler,
Wilton, and Horsman are making themselves as useful as hereto-
fore.

In the list of new comers,' we have observed Miss Mellville, a
young singer of much promise, and Miss Ellis, who is an actress
of merit, though her voice is rather against her : Misses Noel and
Duret have also made their appearance, but as we have, as yet,
seen but little of them, we hesitate to advance any opinion on
their respective merits.

Mr. Mude is the leading man of the company. In all that
we have witnessed him do, (with the exception of " Richard the
III.") we had reason to be highly gratified. In comedy, he can
sustain his characters with ease and even elegance, whilst in
impersonations of an opposite description, he touches the more
thrilling chords of human passion, with energy and pathos.

Mr. Adderly will no doubt prove a valuable addition to the
dramatis personae. He is evidently possessed of no small ability;
but we would suggest, that he is sometimes disposed to give an
unnecessary breadth to what might otherwise prove an excellent
caricature, we may mention his " Flutter" in the " Belle's
Stratagem," as an illustration of this remark. The character of
** Claude Frollo," in "Esmeralda" was wholly out of his line.
Horsman would have done justice to the pious, murdering monk,
it is just the sort of character in which he is at home.

Of Mr. Woolgar we may have more to say hereafter, when we
shall have had an opportunity of seeing him to better advantage.

A new drama, " Esmeralda," founded on Victor Hugo'? soul-
stirring novel was produced for the first time here, on Thursday the
26th ult. From the nature of the original tale, we did not
expect that much success would attend the attempt at drama-
tising it, but in this respect we were agreeably disappointed.
By taking a few liberties, (needful for stage effect) with the plot,
"Esmeralda" has been rendered a most attractive affair, and we
mistake much if it fail to become a favorite.

Many other novelties are reported to be in preparation, and
judging from the past, we are sure that nothing will be left
undone Ur make them fully effective.

Mrs. Sandford merits the utmost encouragement on the part
of the public, for the exceedingly liberal, and indeed splendid
scale (for a provincial theatre) on which she has provided for
their intellectnal recreation ; and we sincerely hope, that patron-
age so well earned, will not fail to be bestowed.

CONCLUSION OF VOLUME THE SIXTH.

^