, 3. THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE, BRITISH REGISTER OP LITERATURE, SCIENCES, AND THE BELLES-LETTRES. PRESENTED JANUARY TO JUNE. VOL. I. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY JAMES COCHRANE AND CO., WATERLOO-PLACE, PALL-MALL. 1835. PRINTED BY A. J. VALPY, RED LION COURT, FLEET STREET. INDEX TO VOL. I.— N EW SERIES, JANUARY TO JUNE, 1835. Page Adam and Eve, Paraphrase from Milton . . 84, 582 Bees and Blossoms, a Fable ..... 467 Burns, Sonnet to . . . • 180 Caesars, Wives of the . . . . . .138 Cottage Architecture . . . . . .51 Church Question, English, considered . . .71 Chateaubriand in England ..... 181 Church, the Irish . . . . . .233 Colonial Policy . . . . . .294 Colonies, British . . . . . . 575 Colloquy, Editorial ..... 419, 518 Cadell, Colonel, Military Memoirs of ... 325 Conservatives and Reformers . . . . .217 Clergyman, the Young ..... 583 Evening Prayer, Adam and Eve's . . . .55 Eve's Address to Adam . . . . .401 Education and Literature in the middle classes of England . 495 Elections, the ...... 105 Epitaph, Greek Translation of . . . .160 Emblems, Spring ...... 370 Friend, Lines to the memory of ... 283 INDEX. Page Goff, Peter . . . . . .190 Government — No Government . . . 603 Indian Mother, the . . . . . .47 Interview an, — Editor's Library .... 487 Industry, Prospects of, — Labour — Machinery — Steam . 337 Hand-Loom Weavers, &c. . . 445 Summary of Causes of Distress — Remedial Agencies . . 541 Kate Fifle, a Sailor's Courtship .... 488 Lacon, Narrative of the Author of . . .85 Lelia, a Poem by P. Gaskell, Esq. .... 345 London Streets, their histories and traditions . . 460 Literature, Juvenile ...... 510 Lectures and Learning among the highest classes — Remarks on Educating the Poor ..... 596 Month, Notes of the .... .90,202,328 Maroon Party, the . . . . . .56 Marae, the ....... 359 Mac Nab, Laird of . . . . . .411 Materialist, the ...... 468 Milton, Lines on, by Sir Egerton Brydges . . . 493 Merchant, the Ruined ..... 501 Man, What a piece of work is . _„ . . 514 Ney, Death of Marshal ..... 176 North Seas, Voyage in .... 240, 387 Necromancer, the ...... 311 Orinoco, Three days on the . . . . .25 Old Maids ....... 371 Old Bachelors, Portrait- Gallery of— Old Bachelor, Amorous ..... 353 Woman-hating .... 471 - Irascible ..... 477 Gouty . . . . .561 Poverty, Philosophy of . . . .41 Pandemonium, or the Stock Exchange . . . 154 Public Virtue, Specimens of . . . . . 284 Pope, Lines on, by Sir Egerton Brydges . . . 385 Public Opinion ...... 412 INDEX. 5 Page Russia, on the Policy and Power of . . .317 Railways, Highways, and Canals .... 161 Sugar from Beet-root . . . . .198 Song . . . . . . .201 Sessions . . . . . . 225 Surgeon, Experiences of a . . 366, 482, 567 Sunday Schools, English Mechanics, Lectures, Incendiary Fires . . . . . . . . 376 Sisters, the Twin ; a Story ..... 402 Spring and the Poets ...... 453 Sonnets, by Sir Egerton Brydges .... 559 Star- Enamoured, the .. . . . . 595 Song, National , . . . . . 601 Tottle, Mr. Watkins . . . .15, 121 Tory Reform Government . . . . i Woman, the Rights of . . . . .216 BOOKS, &c. REVIEWED. Page Architectural Director . . . . . 401 Architectural Magazine . .. . . 215, 624 Arboretum Britannicum . . . 432, 532, 624 Allen's Picturesque Views of the Island of Ascension . 627 Bees, Management of ..... 212 Byron Beauties .... 440, 538, 626 Bible, Illustrations of .... 440, 538 Brockedon's Road-Book from London to Naples . . 608 Corfu, Sketches of . . . . .210 Cowper, Wm., the Works of, by Dr. Memes , .213 Chances and Changes ..... 333 Cotton Manufacture, History of ...» 429 Captive, the . . . . . . . 536 Cruise, the . . . . . .433 Colonial Policy . . . . . .436 D'Artois, Robert . . . . . .209 Dedication of the Temple, &c. 539 Encyclopaedia Britannica ... . 431 England, History of, by T. S. Hughes, B. D. . 427, 532 England, France, Russia, and Turkey . . . 621 England, Ireland, and America . . . . ib. England ; an Historical Poem .... 619 Excitement ....... 96 Erin, Exile of . * . . . . 205 Emancipation unmasked . . . 335 Electors' Manual ...... 532 Entomology, Manual of ..... 624 INDEX. 7 Page Fruit Cultivator .... . 214 Fishes, British, History of . 440, 627 Fables, Literary . . .530 Faust, Talbot's Translation of . ib. Germanic Empire . .95, 432 Guide to Spanish and English Conversation . . . 208 Guide, the French Reader's ..... 212 Gardening, Encyclopaedia of . . . . . 125 Grimshawe's Edition of Cowper . . . 526, 615 Gooch's Parliamentary Key ... . 551 Government, Free and Safe . . . . .618 Hector Fieramosca ...... 527 Hogg's Tales of the Wars of Montrose . . . 528 Hell, Descent into, &c. ..... 529 Instructor, the ...... 431 Illustrations of Burns ..... 440 Ireland, History of, by Moore .... 524 India, its State and Prospects . . . . 530 Illustrations of Cowper's Works . . . 538 Journal of the Heart, Second Series .... 615 Kidd's Works ...... 536 Ketch, Jack, Autobiography of . . .97 Letter from an Ex-M.P. . . . . .434 Letter on the Irish Church . . . . ib. Letter on the Present Crisis ..... 101 Lusiad, the Translation of . . . .213 Mirabeau, Memoirs of ..... 429 Malthusian Boon unmasked ... . 102 Modern Sculpture, Illustration of . . . ib. Manuscripts of Erdely ..... 536 Municipal Corporations, History of . . . . 332 Mungo Park, Life of . " . . . . .617 Man as known Theologically and Geologically . . 433 Mallam on the Physiology and Diseases of the Teeth . . 622 Miller's Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland . 620 Middleton's Pompeii, and other Poems . . . 624 Murray's Emigrant and Traveller's Guide . . . 625 Nursery Offerings . . . . . .97 8 INDEX. Page New England . . . . . . 429 Nuttall's Bucolics of \^irgil ..... 622 Napoleon Gallery ...... 626 Politics, Party, exposed . . . . . 101 Portugal, Sketches in ..... 212 Poems by Miss Twamley . , . . . 428 Poems by the Hon. W. R. Spencer .... 435 Poems of Ebeuezer Elliot . . . . . 623 Pope, Works of, by Dr. Croly . . . 436, 533 Provincial Sketches ...... 529 Parent's Cabinet of Amusement, &c. . . . 531 Pierce Falcon, the Outcast ..... 612 Picturesque Steam- Boat Companion .... 624 Rhymes for my Children ..... 525 Ross's Second Voyage in search of a North- West Passage, &c. 609 Response de Lucian Bonaparte . . . .621 Rogers's Poetical Works . . . . .619 Souvenir, Literary . . . . . .95 Scott, Sir Walter, Prose Works of . . . . ib. South, Sketch Book of ..... 529 Songs of the Prophecies ..... 535 Songs of England and Scotland . . . ib. Student, the . . . . . . . 610 Spence's Notices of the Holy Land, &c. . . .613 Savainson on Animals . . . . .616 Sultan Mahmoud and AH Pasha .... 620 Steam-Navigation with India .... 621 Spiritual Food for the Spiritual Mind . . . 625 Snuff-Box, the ...... 625 Thaumaturgia, or Elucidations of the Marvellous . . 531 Universities, the, and Dissenters .... 621 Warleigh, or the Fatal Oak . . . . .214 Wanderings through Wales .... 434, 534 Walsingham, Pilgrims of . . . . 427 Winkles' Cathedrals .... 430, 536, 626 Willis's Melanie, and other Poems .... 622 THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOL. I. JANUARY, 1835. No. I. THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. IN our last month's number, we speculated upon the probability of the Tories declining to take office after all. We were, it seems, mis- taken. The Tory party has not only formed itself into a government, but has called upon the country for that confidence in its adminis- tration, which the men composing it, and the measures heretofore pursued, are so eminently calculated to excite. There is a degree of reckless desperation in this proceeding which cannot but work well and speedily for the people. Only give the Ministry rope enough, and it will hang itself, and so save the country the trouble of squeezing its neck, and putting it out of its miserable political existence for ever. It has said to the people of England: — " Slaves ! I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die I" And it is determined that the die shall be loaded with all the influence of the church, as by law established, — of the army, as by the Duke of Wellington governed, — of the king's prerogative, as by the people conferred, — and of the king's government, as by the Tories once more obtained. But these influences will be exercised in vain. A Tory ministry can no longer either intimidate or cajole the country. That moral influence which, during the last forty years, has been gradually accu- mulating, and of which the people now possess an outward symbol and an efficient engine in the Reform Bill, must prove altogether too much for any Ministry that is indisposed, or reluctant to carry out practically those principles which have so widely obtained, and to which the Tories themselves have been, at length, compelled to give in their adherence. But the most remarkable attempt, and, at the same time, the most M.M. No. 1. B 2 THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. signal failure that has been made of late years, is the document put forth by Sir Robert Peel, purporting to be an address to the con- stituents of Tamworth, but which, in reality, is meant to be a feeler to the constituency of England. It is intended as a blind to the ma- jority, and as something that shall effectually open the eyes of the select few. It is as though he should say, " The devil, we are told, can quote Scripture for his own purposes — see you now, how I shall quote Reform for Tory ends, and denounce abuses in order that I may the more effectually perpetuate them." We should have supposed it impossible that the address put forth by Sir Robert Peel could have imposed upon any human creature breathing, had we not seen, much to our surprise and mortification, that it has already produced an effect in quarters from whence we might naturally have expected some degree of suspicious vigilance. But, as we are told by Milton, that hypocrisy is the only vice which angels themselves cannot detect, so we must in charity suppose, that, in some cases, hypocrisy, being thinly enough clad, is frequently mistaken for naked truth. How else are we to palliate or excuse the avowal of the Globe, that this composition is " a most interesting and important document — it is a temperate, full, able, and honest expla- nation of the writer's sentiments, and deserves the highest praise from all parties;" and that " we must repeat the manly and candid tone of the address ; we think that the Right Honorable Baronet is honorably exculpated in it !" How, also, should we have thought (if we had not known pretty well what to think before) of the Courier, when it makes a similar confession ? The truth is, — this address of Sir Robert Peel is not such an one as should be endured by a people to whom the king himself is ac- countable,— proceeding from one who is the king's servant, in trust for the people. It is a specimen of the chiaro scuro, which is by no means to our taste. That which it is intended to compass is clear enough ; that which it contains is clouded. The goblet may be seen through, and is sufficiently brittle ; but the mixture it contains is neither pellucid nor pleasing— but an abomination. Sir Robert Peel talks of carrying on the king's government with vigour and success. It is an awkward phrase, — " the king's government" leading, as it does, to the conclusion, that it is something in which the people are to have no share. This insolence, so peremptorily propounded by THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. d another Sir Robert* more than a century and a half ago, will go down no longer. In fact, we have seen, and we have been told a great deal too much of the king's prerogative within the last few weeks. Let it be remembered, that there is an elder brother to that prerogative who might, under compulsion, and the blessing of pro- vidence, prove the stronger of the two. It is easy for Sir Robert to tell us that he is no friend to abuses, and that he is no enemy to reform ; but the question is, what does he consider an abuse — and what does he mean by Reform ? He did not consider the Reform Bill a Bill of Reform : he did not think that Gatton and Old Sarum were abuses. We must agree upon our first principles ere we are likely to come to an amicable understanding. The general principles he talks of, are rather vague and unsatis- factory. They may be the principles, as we suspect they are, of General the Duke of Wellington. The abuses, of which the country complains, may be instruments of good government with him j and Reform and retrenchment, with his reading of the words, may mean the retrenchment of Reform. We have some homely sayings which may be brought in exemplification of our more obscure hints : — " What is one man's meat," it is said, " is another man's poison." — And again, " What won't poison will fatten, — and what won't fatten will fill up." That is to say, " What is one man's use is another man's abuse ; and while I can keep place I'll grow fat in it — and such places as I cannot grow fat in, I'll fill up with my friends, Herries, Goulburn, and Knatchbull." It must never be forgotten that Sir Robert Peel, the Duke of Wel- lington, and their present pliable drudges, are the most bitter oppo- nents of the Reform Bill in all its stages. These were the men who insulted the people of England by telling them that the old system was perfect, and that it was impossible that human wisdom could devise any theoretical form of Government which could be found to work so well as that which they conceived chance had bestowed upon them. " So, atoms dancing round the centre They urge, made all things at a venture." This profound dogma, broached by the Duke of Wellington, and * Sir Robert Filmer.— -By-the-bye, is the Sir Edmund Filmer, who lately figured at one or two conservative meetings in Kent, a descendant of this wretched lick-spittle of the conservative Stuarts ? 4 THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. greedily imbibed by his followers — this dogma, borrowed from the reign of Chaos, in whose limited monarchy chance is the prime mi- nister, is but poor evidence of the treatment which the Reform Bill is likely to meet with at the hands of the present Ministers. We are, indeed, told that they are content to abide by the letter of the Reform Bill, and that they purpose acting in its spirit. If we suspect them to have been dishonest all along, what faith can be placed in their professions that they will uphold the Reform Bill — if we consent to believe them honest, how can we suppose that they will govern in its spirit ? It is too much to expect that men will carry our princi- ples which they have denounced as ruinous ; and that they will go- vern in a spirit which they do not feel, or understand, or sympathize with. No, we firmly believe that it is their intention to neutralize and stultify the Reform Bill at starting — if possible ; if that should be found impracticable in the first instance, then to concede just as much as will save, or barely preserve, appearances ; if this will not do, then, as a last resort, to lay the dust with another little sprinkle of blood, as at Manchester j merely to avert confusion, anarchy, and bloodshed. For it is impossible to conceive a measure of degradation meted out by their worst enemies, more ample than that of compel- ling these men to work out the Reform Bill, both letter and spirit, so far as in justice to the people it can be carried. Can we suppose, then, that they would voluntarily subject themselves to this degrading drudgery ; or rather, is it not necessarily to be inferred that their ulterior designs are in direct hostility to the best interests of the na- tion ? It is a wretched mockery on the part of Sir Robert Peel to take the word tf reform" into his mouth, and to attempt to make us believe that he has not only sw allowed, but digested it. Le thim be once soundly seated (which he never will be) in Downing-street, and we may venture to tell him in the language of the proverbs — " The mor- sel which thou hast eaten shalt thou vomit up, and lose thy sweet words:" It is, in the meanwhile, no common cause of triumph to the Reformers of England that they have compelled their adversaries to chew this obnoxious leek — that they have made them swallow this hated word, reform. It is the first decisive evidence of the recovered power of the people, that their would-be rulers must at least, although at last, affect to govern in accordance with their expressed wishes ; and to run in the groove, as the Times call it, which the Reform Bill has laid down for them. THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. O But now. let us take a brief view of the address of Sir Robert Peel to his constituents, which the Tory papers have pronounced exquisite for the chasteness, perspicuity, and polished vigour of its style and diction j and which has also been declared to be a full, ample., and satisfactory exposition of the principles the new Premier means to pursue. The Right Honourable Baronet himself says " I feel it in- cumbent upon me to enter into a declaration of my views of public policy, as full and unreserved as I can make it, consistently with my duty as a minister of the crown." Let us see how far this sense of incumbent duty has opened the declaratory sluices of Sir Robert's well-known candour. We shall give the first paragraph which pur- ports to be addressed to the people of Englacd — "I gladly avail myself also of this, a legitimate opportunity, of making a more public appeal — of addressing, through you, to that great and in- telligent class of society of which you are a portion, and a fair and unex- ceptionable representative — to that class which is much less interested in the contentions of party than in the maintenance of order arid the cause of good government, — that frank opposition of general principles and views which appears to be anxiously expected, and which it ought not to be the inclination, and cannot be the interest, of a Minister of this country to withold." This appeal is, in point of fact, an appeal to his own party — the disguise is too glaring not to be seen through in a moment; Sir Ro- bert says that he addresses " a great and intelligent class of society much less interested in the contention of party than in the mainte- nance of good order and good government" — telling his constituents in the same breath that they are " a fair and unexceptionable repre- sentative" of that class. The candour is more remarkable than the cunning in this paragraph. We believe, indeed, that he does address himself to those who like the (miscalled) electors of Tarn worth, are still under the sway of undue influence ; and whose ideas of " good- order" and of " good-government," as interpreted for them, by their representatives, are " the people kept in good order by good strong measures of government." This is a specimen of the open and manly policy of our new Premier. This sneer at the independent consti- tuencies of England is, we presume, to be considered an earnest of his sincerity when he professes to govern in the spirit of the Reform Bill. THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. Sir Robert then proceeds to decline wasting a word on the merely personal concern, as to whether he was actuated by motives of ambi- tion when he accepted office, hinting that the power and distinction it confers is not a sufficient compensation for the heavy sacrifice it in- volves. To this the shortest answer is — Fudge ! The man who can have made up his mind to let his political character go at so heavy a sacrifice as Sir Robert has done, is just the man to feel that power and distinction are cheaply purchased at any sacrifice. But he pro- ceeds thus — " The King in a crisis of great difficulty, required my services. The question I had to decide was this— shall I obey the call, or shall I shrink from the responsibility, alleging, as the reason, that I consider myself, in consequence of the Reform Bill, as labouring under a sort of mortal dis- qualification, which must preclude me, and all who think with me, both now and for ever, from entering into the official service of the crown ? Would it, I ask, be becoming in any public man to act upon such a prin- ciple ?" We can readily conceive that an old placeman must be a long while ere he can make up his mind to the conclusion that he is la- bouring under a moral disqualification, which must preclude his taking a place. But it might, perhaps have struck Sir Robert that " in consequence of the Reform Bill," which he had so violently op- posed as a Bill pregnant with irremediable mischief to the country ; it might have struck him, we say, that he was not precisely the fittest man to administer that Bill, and its inevitable consequences ; and having so struck him, his moral disqualification might have pre- sented itself. But we are prone to believe that in Sir Robert's men- tal representation, the moral franchise is very low ; and that every petty shop-keeper sentiment is permitted to vote. " Was it fit," he continues, " that I should assume that either the ob- ject or the eifect of the Reform Bill has been to preclude all hope of a suc- cessful appeal to the good sense and calm judgment of the people, and so to fetter the prerogative of the Crown, that the King has no free choice among his subjects, but must select his Ministers from one section, and one section only of public men ?" It was not fit, we answer— but it was done by Sir Robert Peel himself. How often were we told that the passing of the Reform Bill would assuredly lead to these consequences. Mark, also, this THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. 7 second sneer at the Reformers. If the Reformers may with justice be called " one section, and one section only" of public men ; why not boldly avow the principles of the vast Tory majority. Why falsify and desert his principles for a few, — principles in which the many participate. Oh ! the Peel Ministry will certainly maintain the Reform Bill ! Let us have more. ee But the Reform Bill, it is said, constitutes a new era, and it is the duty of a Minister to declare explicitly — first, whether he will maintain the Bill itself; and, secondly, whether he will act upon the spirit in which it was conceived. 1 ' With respect to the Reform Bill itself, I will repeat now the declara- tion which I made when I entered the House of Commons as a member of the Reformed Parliament, that I consider the Reform Bill a final and irre- vocable settlement of a great constitutional question — a settlement which no friend to the peace and welfare of this country would attempt to disturb either by direct or by insidious means." Here we are again at issue with Sir Robert Peel. It is not a final and irrevocable settlement of a great constitutional question. It must and will be disturbed by such constitutional means as the Bill itself has furnished. The franchise must be extended. We must have household suffrage, triennial parliaments, and vote by ballot ; and when we have got them, we shall doubtless have the satisfaction of beholding an equal readiness on the part of Sir Robert to under- take the King's Government under the new system, with that he has evinced to administer it under the Reform Bill, We must not hear of " final" till all be finished. The paragraph that succeeds the one we have quoted above is devoted to an inquiry as to what is meant by the spirit of the Reform Bill. If this, or that, or the other be meant — knowing full well, at the same time, that nothing of that nature is meant — then he will not undertake to adopt it ; but if it means a " careful review of institu- tions civil and ecclesiastical, undertaken in a friendly temper, com- bining with the maintenance of established rights the correction of proved base, and the redress of real grievances" — in that case, he concludes, " I can for myself and colleagues undertake to act in such a spirit and with such intentions." This would seem to be plausible enough ; but a question naturally arises — what degree of proof does Sir Robert Peel require ere he 8 THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. will consent to correct an abuse — and what reality of grievance must be made apparent before he will undertake to redress it ? Shakspeare tells us of one who would not smile " though Nestor swore the jest were laughable." There are some men, likewise, proof against proof; who would not see an old abuse any more than they would recognize an old friend —who would not redress a real grievance lest they might encourage imposition. This scepticism comes of making people beggars of justice, which they should de- mand as a right. The pressure from without will abate when its cause is removed, and not till then. It is useless to complain that the people will insist on having a voice in their own government. It is a hard case, perhaps, but it will be so. The men of Middlesex, we are told by the Standard, are " animals :" — and we suppose the same may be said of the men of all other counties ; but they are ruminating animals; and sometimes, while they chew the cud of politics, they cannot be made to understand why John Bull should not be the best judge of what is good for himself. The estimation in which the Tories, through their organs, hold the people of England is the best clue to the perfect understanding of their policy and prac- tice in governing them. It might have been expected from a prime minister of the crown, taking office, as he himself confesses, tc in a crisis of great difficulty," (there was a crisis, after all, it seems), chat we should have been favoured with something more than a mere exposition of general principles, " necessarily vague ;"— it was the more desirable, since, in that case, we should have been saved the trouble of shewing that de- clarations of general principles are by no means the best guarantees that particular measures will arise out of them. The most reckless profligate may subscribe to the truth and justice of a moral axiom ; but it is not thence to be inferred that he purposes forthwith to " purge, live cleanly, and like a gentleman." Sir Robert Peel, in this difficult crisis, was bound to have furnished us with some — not necessarily vague but — intelligibly precise pledges of specific mea- sures now loudly called for by the country — measures, without which the country will not rest satisfied, — measures that must not be post- poned, and cannot be evaded. Let us see with what success Sir Ro- bert Peel has endeavoured to apply his declaration of general prin- ciples, " practically to some of those questions which, of late, at- tracted the greatest share of public interest and attention." — THE NEW TOIir REFORM GOVERNMENT. 9 " I take, first, the inquiry into municipal corporations. It is not my in- tention to advise the Crown to interrupt the progress of that inquiry, nor to transfer the conduct of it from those to whom it was committed by the late government. For myself, I gave the best proof that I was not un- friendly to the principle of inquiry, by consenting to be a member of that committee of the House of Commons on which it was originally devolved. No report has yet been made by the commissioners to whom the inquiry was afterwards referred, arid until that report be made, I cannot be ex- pected to give, on the part of the government, any other pledge than that they will bestow on the suggestions it may contain, and the evidence on which they may be founded, a full and unprejudiced consideration." Could anything have been written less, or less satisfactory, or more vague, without any necessity of being so, than this declaration ? we will give the evidence on this subject " a full and unprejudiced con- sideration." Why not have added — only that the necessary vague- ness was a necessary condition of his accepting office — ee with a view to the correction of monstrous abuses, which are notorious as the sun at Midsummer." This—" I'll think about it" — " I'll not fail to bear it in mind" — kind of policy is not altogether the thing for the English people. " I will, in the next place, address myself to the questions in which those of our fellow-countrymen, who dissent from the doctrines of the Established Church, take an especial interest. Instead of making new professions,, I will refer to the course which I took upon those subjects when out of power. In the first place, I supported the measure brought forward by Lord Al- thorp, the object of which was to exempt all classes from the payment of church rates, applying in lieu thereof, out of a branch of the revenue, a certain sum for the building and repair of churches. I never expressed, nor did I entertain, the slightest objection to the principle of a bill of which Lord John Russell was the author, intended to relieve the conscientious scruples of Dissenters in respect of the ceremony of marriage. I give no opinion now on the particular measures themselves ; they -were proposed by Ministers in whom the Dissenters had confidence ; they were intended to give relief, and it is sufficient for my present purpose to state that I sup- ported the principle of them. I opposed, and I am bound to state that my opinions in that respect have undergone no change, the admission of Dis- senters, as a claim of right, into the Universities j but I expressly declared that, if regulations enforced by public authorities superintending the pro- fessions of law and medicine, and .the studies connected with them, had the effect of conferring advantages of the nature of civil privileges on one class M.M. No. 1. C 10 THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVENRMENT, of the King's subjects from which another class was excluded, those regu- lations ought to undergo modification, with the view of placing all the King's subjects, whatever their religious creeds, upon a footing of perfect equality with respect to any civil privilege." And why, " instead of making new professions," does he refer "to the course which he took upon these subjects when out of power ?" That course, were it ten times more liberal, does not bind him to bring forward measures of a similar character. The great point is, what lie will do, not what he has said. " If," says Shakspeare, " to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches." Sir Robert Peel, perhaps, knows well enough what were just to be done for the relief and liberty of conscience, but we shall not see dissenters' chapels put upon an equality with churches by Sir Robert Peel, nevertheless. " Then, as to the great question of Church Reform, on that head I have no new professions to make. I cannot give my consent to the alienation of church property in any part of the United Kingdom from strictly ecclesias- tical purposes. But I repeat now the opinions that I have already ex- pressed in Parliament in regard to the church establishment in Ireland, that if, by an improved distribution of the revenues of the church, its just influence can be extended, and the true interests of the established religion promoted, all other considerations should be made subordinate to the ad- vancement of objects of such paramount importance. As to church pro- perty in this country, no person has expressed a more earnest wish than I have done that the question of tithe, complicated and difficult as I acknow- ledge to be, should, if possible, be satisfactorily settled, by the means of a commutation, founded upon just principles, and proposed after mature consideration." There is a little too much of the " necessary vagueness" in these paragraphs. One thing is, however, clear enough. Sir Robert Peel will not consent to the alienation of church property ; but then come two ifs, exceedingly useful crutches to a prime minister desirous of hobbling out of a difficulty. If, by an improved distribution of the revenues of the church its just influence can be extended, then all other considerations (of what nature?) should be made subordinate; and, again, if possible, the question of tithe should be satisfactorily settled. Dry den has told us that, " Two ifs scarce make a possibility ;" THE NEW TORY REFORM GOVERNMENT. 11 and we must confess that Sir Robert Peel is not likely to falsify the assertion. We can see no beneficial possibility lurking behind his two great hulking ifs, that seem placed as sentinels for the purpose of protecting the " necessary vagueness" from the slight " pressure from within/' of meaning. " With regard to alterations in the laws which govern our Ecclesiastical Establishment,, I have no recent opportunity of giving that grave consi- deration to a subject of the deepest interest which could alone justify me in making any public declaration of opinion. It is a subject which must undergo the fullest deliberation, and into that deliberation the Government will enter with the sincerest desire to remove every abuse that can impair the efficiency of the Establishment, to extend the sphere of its usefulness, and to strengthen and confirm its just claims upon the respect and affec- tions of the people." One might reasonably enough have supposed that Sir Robert Peel had afforded himself many opportunities of gravely considering a subject which is not altogether so new as his tenure of the premier- ship. The plain and simple construction of the paragraph is this : — JS TOTTLE. the Sti ephon of Cecil-street, Strand. The lady rose, and made a deep curtsey ; Mr. Watkins Tottle made a serio-comic bow. "Splendid, majestic creature !" thought Watkins Tottle. She was his beau ideal of a desirable female. Mr. Timson advanced, and Mr. Watkins Tottle began to hate him, Men generally discover a rival instinctively, and Mr. Watkins Tottle felt that his hate was deserved. " May I beg," said the reverend gentleman — " May I beg to call upon you, Miss Lillerton, for some trifling donation to my soup, coals, and blanket distribution society?" "Put my name down for two sovereigns, if you please," responded the automaton-like Miss Lillerton. " You are truly charitable, madam," said the Reverend Mr. Tim- son, " and we know that charity will cover a multitude of sins. Let me beg you to understand that I do not say this from the supposition that you have many sins which require palliation ;~ believe me when I say that I never yet met any one who had fewer to atone for than Miss Lillerton." Something like a bad imitation of animation lighted up the lady's face, as she acknowledged the compliment. Watkins Tottle incurred the sin of wishing that the ashes of the Rev. Charles Timson were quietly deposited in the churchyard of his curacy, wherever it might be. " I'll tell you what," interrupted Parsons, who had just appeared with clean hands, and a black coat, " it's my private opinion Timson, that your ' distribution society' is rather a humbug." " You are so severe," replied Timson, with a Christian smile ; — he disliked Parsons, but liked his dinners. " So positively unjust," said Miss Lillerton. " Certainly/' observed Tottle. The lady looked up ; her eyes met those of Mr. Watkins Tottle. She withdrew them in a s\veet confu- sion, and Watkins Tottle did the same — the confusion was mutual. " Why," urged Mr. Parsons, pursuing his objections, " what on earth is the use of giving a man coals who has nothing to cook ; or giving him blankets when he hasn't abed; or giving him soup, when he requires substantial food — like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt. Why not give 'em a trifle of money, as I do, when I think they deserve it, and let them purchase what they think best. Why ? — because your subscribers wouldn't see their names flourishing in print on the church-door — that's the reason." " Really, Mr. Parsons, I hope you don't mean to insinuate that I wish to see my name in print, on the church-door," interrupted Miss Lillerton, indignantly. " I hope not," said Mr: Watkins Tottle, putting in another word, and getting another glance. " Certainly not," replied Parsons. " I dare say you wouldn't mind seeing it in writing though, in the church register — eh ?" " Register ! What register ?" enquired the lady, gravely. " Why, the register of marriages, to be sure," replied Parsons, chuckling at the sally, and glancing at Tottle. Mr. Watkins Tottle thought he should have fainted for very shame, and it is quite impos- sible to imagine what effect the joke would have had upon the lady, PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. 21 if dinner had not been that moment announced. Mr. Watkins Tot- tie,, with an unprecedented effort of gallantry, offered the tip of his little finger ; Miss Lillerton accepted it gracefully, with maiden mo- desty ; and they proceeded in due state to the dinner table, where they were soon deposited side by side. The room was very snug, the dinner very good, and the little party in tolerable spirits. The con- versation became pretty general, and when Mr. Watkins Tottle had extracted one or two cold observations from his neighbour, and taken wine with her, he began to acquire confidence rapidly. The cloth was removed ; Mrs. Gabriel Parsons drank four glasses of port,, on the plea of her being a nurse just then, and Miss Lillerton took about the same number of sips, on the plea of her not wanting any at all. At length the ladies retired, to the great gratification of Mr. Gabriel Parsons, who had been coughing, and frowning at his wife, for half an hour previously — signals which Mrs. Parsons never happened to observe, until she had been pressed to take her ordinary quantum, which, to avoid giving trouble, she always did at once. "What do you think of her?" enquired Mr. Gabriel Parsons of Mr. Watkins Tottle, in an under tone. " I doat on her with enthusiasm already/' replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. "Gentlemen, pray let us drink ' the ladies,' " said the Reverend Mr. Tim son. "The ladies !" said Mr. Watkins Tottle, emptying his glass. In the fullness of his confidence he felt as if he could make love to a dozen ladies, off hand. "Ah!" said Mr. Gabriel Parsons, "I remember when I was a younger man — fill your glass, Timson." " I have this moment emptied it." " Then fill again." 11 1 will," said Timson, readily suiting the action to the word. " I remember," resumed Mr. Gabriel Parsons, " when I was a younger man, with what a strange compound of feelings I used to drink that toast, and how I used to think that every woman was an angel — quite a superior being." " Was that before you were married ?" mildly inquired Mr. Wat- kins Tottle. " Oh ! certainly," replied Mr. Gabriel Parsons, I have never thought so since ; and a precious milksop I must have been, ever to have thought so at all. Why, you know, I married Fanny under the oddest, and most ridiculous circumstances possible." "What were they, if one may inquire?" asked Timson, who had heard the story, on an average twice a week for the last six months. Mr. Watkins Tottle listened attentively, in the hope of picking up some suggestion that might be useful to him in his new undertaking. " I spent my wedding-night in a back-kitchen chimney," said Par- sons, by way of a beginning. " In a back-kitchen chimney !" ejaculated Watkins Tottle. " How dreadful !" " Yes, it wasn't very pleasant/' replied the small host. " The fact is, that Fanny's father and mother liked me well enough as an indi- vidual, but had a decided objection to my becoming a husband. You 22 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. see I hadn't got any money in those days, and they had ; and so they wanted Fanny to pick up somebody else. However, we managed to discover the state of each other's affections somehow. I used to meet her at some mutual friends' parties ; at first we danced together, and talked, and flirted, and all that sort of thing ; then I used to like no- thing so well as sitting by her side — we didn't talk so much then, but I remember I used to have a great notion of looking at her out of the extreme corner of my left eye, and then I got very miserable and sentimental, and began to write verses, and use macassar. At last I couldn't bear it any longer, and after I had walked up and down the sunny side of Oxford-street, in tight boots for a week — and a de- vilish hot summer it was too — in the hope of meeting her, I sat down and wrote a letter, and begged her to manage to see me clandestinely, for I wanted to hear her decision from her own mouth. I said I had discovered, to my perfect satisfaction, that I couldn't live without her, and that if she didn't have me, I had made up my mind to take prussic acid, or take to drinking, or emigrate so as to take myself off in some way or other. Well, I borrowed a pound, and bribed the housemaid to give her the note which she did." "And what was the reply ?" enquired Timson, who had found before, that encouraging the repetition of old stories, is sure to end in a general invitation. " Oh, the usual way you know — Fanny expressed herself very mi- serable j hinted at the possibility of an early grave j said that no- thing should induce her to swerve from the duty she owed her parents ; and implored me to forget her, and find out somebody more deserving ; and all that sort of thing. She said, she could on no ac- count think of meeting me unknown to her pa and ma ; and entreated me, as she should be in a particular part of Kensington Gardens at eleven o'clock next morning, not to attempt to meet her there." " You didn't go, of course ?" said Watkins Tottle. " Didn't I ? — Of course I did. There she was, with the identical housemaid in perspective, in order that there might be no interruption. We walked about for a couple of hours ; made ourselves delightfully miserable ; and were regularly engaged. Then we began to ' cor- respond'— that is to say, we used to exchange about four letters a day : what we used to say in 'em, I can't imagine. And I used to have an interview in the kitchen, or in the cellar, or some such place, every evening. Well, things went on in this way for some time ; and we got fonder of each other every day. At last, as our love was raised to such a pitch, and as my salary had been raised too shortly before, we determined on a secret marriage. Fanny arranged to sleep at a friend's the night before ; we were to be married early in the morning, and then we were to return to her home and be pa- thetic. She was to fall at the old gentleman's feet, and bathe his boots with her tears ; and I was to hug the old lady, and call her 'mother,' and use my pocket-handkerchief as much as possible. Married we were the next morning ; two girls — friends of Fanny's — acting as bride's-maids ; and a man, who was hired for five shillings and a pint of porter, officiating as father. Now, the old lady un- fortunately put off her return from Ramsgate, where she had been paying a visit, until the next morning ; and as we placed great reli- PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKINS TOTTLE. 23 ance upon her, we agreed to postpone our confession for four-and- twenty hours. My newly-made wife returned home, and I spent my wedding-day in strolling about Hampstead-heath, and damning my father-in-law. Of course I went to comfort my dear little wife at night as much as I could, with the assurance that our troubles would soon be over. I opened the garden-gate, of which I had a key, and was shewn by the servant to our old place of meeting — a back kitchen, with a stone-floor, and a dresser, upon which, in the absence of chairs, we used to sit, and make love." " Make love upon a kitchen-dresser !" interrupted Mr. Watkins Tottle, whose ideas of decorum were greatly outraged. " Ah ! — on a kitchen-dresser !" replied Parsons. — " And let me tell you, old fellow, that, if you were really over head-and-ears in love, and had no other place to make love in, you'd be devilish glad to avail yourself of such an opportunity. However, let me see ;— • where was I ?" " On the dresser," suggested Timson. " Oh — ah ! Well, here I found poor Fanny — quite disconsolate, and uncomfortable. The old boy had been very cross all day, which made her feel still more lonely ; and she was quite out of spirits. So I put a good face upon the matter, and laughed it off, and said we should enjoy the pleasures of a matrimonial life more by contrast ; and, at length, poor Fanny brightened up a little. I stopped there till about eleven o'clock ; and, just as I was taking my leave for the fourteenth time, the girl came running down stairs, without her shoes, in a great fright, to tell us that the old villain — God forgive me for calling him so ! for he's dead and gone now — prompted I suppose by the prince of darkness, was coming down to draw his own beer for supper — a thing he had not done before for six months, to my certain knowledge ; for the cask stood in that very back kitchen. If he dis- covered me there, explanation would have been out of the question ; for he was so outrageously violent, when at all excited, that he never would have listened to me. There was only one thing to be-done. — The chimney was a very wide one : it had been originally built for an oven ; went up perpendicularly for a few feet, and then shot backward, and formed a sort of small cavern. My hopes and for- tune— the means of our joint existence almost — were at stake. I scrambled in like a squirrel ; coiled myself up in this recess-place ; and, as Fanny and the girl replaced the deal chimney-board, I could see the light of the candle which my unconscious father-in-law carried in his hand. I heard him draw the beer ; and I never heard beer run so slowly. He was just leaving the kitchen, and I was preparing to descend, when down came the infernal chimney -board with a tre- mendous crash. He stopped, and put down the candle and the jug of beer on the dresser : he was a nervous old fellow ; and any unex- pected noise annoyed him. He, coolly observed that the fire-place was never used, and sending the frightened servant into the next kitchen for a hammer and nails, actually nailed up the board, and locked the door on the outside. So there was I, on my wedding night, in the light kerseymere trousers, fancy waistcoat, and blue coat, that I had been married in in the morning, in a back-kitchen 24 PASSAGE IN THE LIFE OF MR. WATKIXS TOTTLE. chimney, the bottom of which was nailed up, and the top of which had been formerly raised some fifteen feet, to prevent the smoke from annoying the neighbours. And there/' added Mr. Gabriel Parsons, as he passed the bottle — " there I remained till half-past seven o'clock next morning, when the housemaid's sweetheart, who was a carpenter, unshelled me. The old dog had nailed me up so securely, that, to this very hour, I firmly believe no one but a carpenter could ever have got me out." " And what did Mrs. Parsons's father say, when he found you were married ?" enquired Watkins Tottle, who, although he never saw a joke, was not satisfied unless he heard a story to the very end. " Why, the affair of the chimney so tickled his fancy that he par- doned us off-hand, and allowed us something to live upon, till he went the way of all flesh. I spent the next night in his second-floor front much more comfortably than I did the preceding one ; for, as you will probably guess " " Please Sir, missis has made tea," said a middle-aged female ser- vant, bobbing into the room. ff That's the very housemaid that figures in my story," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. — <{ She went into Fanny's service when we were first married, and has been with us ever since ; but I don't think she has felt one atom of respect for me since the morning she saw me re- leased, when she went into violent laughing hysterics, to which she has been subject ever since. Now, shall we join the ladies ?" " If you please," said Mr. Watkins Tottle. " By all means," added the obsequious Mr. Timson ; and the trio made for the drawing-room accordingly. Tea being concluded, and the toast and cups having been duly handed, and occasionally upset, by Mr. Watkins Tottle, a rubber was proposed' They cut for partners — Mr. and Mrs. Parsons ; and Mr. Watkins Tottle and Miss Lillerton. Mr. Timson being a clergyman, and having conscientious scruples on the subject of card-playing, drank brandy-and-water, and kept up a running spar with Mr. Watkins Tottle. The evening went off well ; Mr. Watkins Tottle was in high spirits, having some reason to be gratified with his recep- tion by Miss Lillerton ; and before he left, a small party was made up to visit the Beulah Spa on the following Saturday. " It's all right I think," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons to Mr. Watkins Tottle, as he opened the garden-gate for him. " I hope so," he replied, squeezing his friend's hand. " You'll be down by the first coach on Saturday," said Mr. Gabriel Parsons. « Certainly," replied Mr. Watkins Tottle. " Undoubtedly." But fortune had decreed that Mr. Watkins Tottle should not be down by the first coach on Saturday. His adventares on that day, however, and the success of his wooing, are subjects which must be reserved for another chapter. BOZ. THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OP CUMANA. CIRCUMSTANCES, which it is not necessary here to detail, induced me to visit New Spain in the year 1823. The scenes of lawless violence, of human nature in its most disgusting shapes, which on every side met my sight, it is not my intention to narrate. That the Spaniards had been, for many generations, hard task-masters, and cruel and grievous oppressors, few, even amongst themselves, will deny ; but the miseries they had so long inflicted upon the various races under their control have been retaliated ten-fold. The rancour, the hatred pent up for so many ages, broke out with a fury too often in- discriminate in the search of its victims. These cruelties were not inflicted so much by the patient though cunning Indian, as by the mixed races descended from Europeans and natives, from natives and blacks, the Zambos and Mestizos, in whom a development of fierce passions took place, which, during that turbulent period, when the strong hand was the lawgiver, had unlimited scope for the exercise of its bloodthirsty ferocity. Rapine, murder, sacrilege, were of daily, nay hourly occurrence. The transition from one state of so- ciety to another produced effects resembling those of the irruption of a mountain-lake upon some quiet valley. It swept away every thing that was fair and beautiful, covering the surface with broken, soiled, and detached fragments, accompanied by the debris of its own turbid stream. That a better and more healthy order of things may arise from amidst these ruins, no one more sincerely wishes than I do. This is, however, a consummation even yet remote ; the elements of social order have been so completely broken up, that, as the storm subsides, little else than wrecks are yet to be seen ; and a long series of anarchy and confusion will devastate, and almost depopulate, some of the very fairest portions of creation. On my arrival at Vera Cruz, I had suffered a very severe attack of yellow fever, which reduced me to a state of deplorable weakness. When I had to some degree recovered, I left the pestilential shores, and proceeded to the table-land, formed by the northern extension of the Cordilleras, intersecting the centre of Mexico. In these de- lightful regions I spent several months, surrounded by scenery of the most magnificent description, The whole treasures of the vege- table world were profusely lavished around me — the productions of all climates and seasons were within my reach — the banana, cacao, the cotton-tree, the sugar-cane, the oak, the indigo, maize, wheat, coffee, manioc, the potatoe, of a species growing to an immense size, oranges, citrons, apples, gooseberries, the agave, and the pine. In this glorious table-land I completely recovered my health, and prepared for a visit to the more remote missions on the Orinoco and its tributary streams, a proceeding of infinite peril, but one with which my visit was inti- mately connected. M.M. No. 109. E 26 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, Descending from the high land, I again sought the marshy shores of the Caribbean Sea, and, after a variety of accidents by " flood and field," was landed in December, 1824, at Cumanafrom a small vessel loaded with tobacco and maize. Our passage had been anything but agreeable ; the captain, as he was styled, being a fierce-looking Creole, who apparently moved about from point to point, with many objects in view beyond the mere carriage of his cargo. I was, how- ever, put on shore safely enough, with two Zambos as attendants. Hitherto, in many trying situations, I had found them brave and faithful, and I had determined on carrying them with me throughout the whole of my intended journey. It was the more fortunate I had brought them with me from a distance, as this placed a sort of bar- rier between them and their fellows, many of whom were moving about the town and the surrounding district, subsisting by robbery — too often, when resisted, accompanied by murder. I seemed destined to be plagued with sickness. On my passage I had been seized with intermittent fever, not severe, but the fits coming on at very inopportune times, and gradually weakening me, I was naturally desirous of getting rid of it before I proceeded to a district, which, at least, was not very likely to prove curative. In fact, the course of the Orinoco has ever been notorious for engender- ing low fevers; and a knowledge of this protracted my stay at Cu- mana much beyond what I had originally intended. It was not till the beginning of March that I thought myself sufficiently invigorated to start; during that period I had liberally dosed myself with Angos- tura bark and cinchona ; and, though my attacks were become irre- gular, and often, very long intervals passed between them, still they did occasionally come on. I trusted, however, to the excitement of the journey, and to the hope of gaining the Orinoco about the com- mencement of the rainy season, which would enable me to make ra- pid progress ; and, at the same time, be much more salubrious than earlier in the season. After having completed all my preparations, I set out on the 8th of March, attended by my two Zambos, an Indian guide, and eight mules, carrying luggage and water. On the first day we cleared the mountain range separating us from the Llanos of Cumana. Few sights are more imposing than that presented by the uniform aspect of these vast savannahs, unbroken for nearly 300 miles by any emi- nence sufficiently lofty to arrest the eye as it wanders over a brown, and apparently barren waste, till it joins the horizon. During the first day's progress, this monotony was broken by here and there a solitary palm erecting itself high over the waste, indicating the bed of a small spring — now, however, perfectly dry ; and by the occasional passage of herds of cattle, which were slowly retiring to the less parched borders of the wilderness. It was the middle of the dry sea- son, vegetation was totally checked, whilst the remains of the plants which a few weeks before had covered the surface of the earth, had become so many sources of dust. There was no wind ; but little currents of air were incessantly playing along the scorched ground, raising low clouds of dust, which were exceedingly annoying. The mirage too often presented strange appearances to us ; but my guide AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OF CUMANA. was too well experienced to allow me to deceive myself with re- gard to them. The heat was most oppressive ; the sun of this torrid region, its heat reflected from the bare surface, unmitigated by the shel- ter of a cloud, and unsoftened by the presence of any distinguishable moisture, was almost overpowering. After a time the solitary trees too left us, and we appeared moving over a track of country utterly de- serted by all living beings. Nothing produced more weariness than the interminable prospect before us ; the horizon seemed to mock us, ever keeping at the same precise distance; there was nothing, therefore, save our own weariness to note our progress. On the afternoon of the third day a grove of palm-trees in a circular form, appeared in the distance. The aching of our tired vision was at once relieved, and we set off, men and mules, whose instinct was as easily roused as our own wishes, at an increased pace. We were doomed to considerable disappoint- ment. The effect of the mirage had brought the trees much nearer in appearance than they were in reality, and it was not before we had toiled on for nearly four hours that we approached them. An accident happened to me here which had very nearly proved fa- tal, both in its immediate and remote consequences. Almost maddened by thirst and a violent irritation of the skin, brought on by being constantly covered with the fine vegetable dust in incessant motion over the desert, and which, from its stimulating effects, must have contained a large portion of some very active rubefacient plant, I rushed forward in advance of my company, and penetrating the circle of the grove, and forcing my way through a sauso hedge, I found myself standing by a muddy-looking and stagnant pool. Without waiting to examine whether it would be safe to venture, I hastily stripped off a portion of my dress, and plunged into it. I sunk in a mixture of mud and water nearly breast high, and was congratulating myself on my comfortable position — which, however, had nothing very particular to recommend it, as the fluid had a temperature but little less than that of the atmosphere — when I suddenly felt a very smart shock on my knee, as if I had been struck by a musket-ball. I gazed about me with great surprise, expecting to see some maroon robber eying me from the thicket. I had, however, heard no report as of the discharge of fire=arms, and I could see nothing to warrant my suspicions. Again I felt the same shock, but to a much more painful degree, extending along the whole of one leg and thigh : so powerful was its impression, that I had great difficulty in support- ing myself, calling aloud to hurry on my attendants. I endea- voured to scramble out, but found myself almost benumbed by a succession of intense shocks, now extending themselves over both extremities and the lower parts of my body. Not only did I feel benumbed and in exquisite pain, but it seemed to me as if I was held tightly in the grasp of some animal. It struck me I must have been seized by an alligator, which I had disturbed in its retreat, when my attention was called to a portion of the body of a monstrous snake of a livid colour, which was gradually enfolding me in its horrid coil. I again called out in a voice of desperation for assistance. The Indian approached hastily, and seeing the predicament in which I was placed, threw me in the noose of an agave rope, which I had hardly power to hold, so completely was I paralyzed. The two Zambos now 28 THHEE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, came up, and assisted him in extricating me from my perilous situa- tion ; but so completely exhausted and in such dreadful pain, that I verily believed I was dying. For a length of time I lay panting, momentarily expecting to breath my last. It was not till the night was far advanced that I could stand at all ; and even then I tottered about as weak as an infant. I found, as soon I was capable of in- quiring, that I had incautiously and unknowingly jumped into a small lake, inhabited by the gymnotus or electrical eel, which infests many of the streams and pools in the Llanos and their borders. These fish, which here grow to the length of five or six feet, are the curse of the neighbourhood near which they harbour, not unfrequently proving fatal to horses and mules that have to ford the rivers. So powerful is the shock they are capable of giving, that had I been more, extensively covered by the folds of the one by which I had been attacked, it is very probable I should at once have sunk under its influ- ence, and perished. The following morning I had a violent paroxysm of fever, brought on, doubtless, by my fright and imprudent immersion. This de- tained us two days, as I found myself incapable of sitting on a mule till it was passed away. I was much weakened by this mis- fortune, and the remainder of the way was got over by riding. We now occasionally fell in with the Caribbee missions, located in various places of the Llanos, and now and then with the ha- cienda of some large cattle proprietor, generally placed either on the bank of a small stream tributary to Rio Pao — now, however, nearly, if not quite dry; or on some brackish spring, which served to keep in luxuriant vegetation, palms, mimosse, and various grasses. We were every where received with cordial hospitality, and every thing done to assist and refresh me. The country now became more broken; an appearance, something resembling a fog bank, indicated we were rapidly approaching the slight elevations Ibordering the Rio Pao, and extending to the Orinoco. As we entered on this region, it looked like paradise to me, so completely was I wearied in body and depressed in mind, by the passage of the Llanos. I looked eagerly forward to embarking on the river, believing that the breezes flowing along its course would do something towards ridding me of my ague. Having forded the Pao with some difficulty, which we found swarming with crocodiles, we at length came in sight of the mighty Orinoco, looking like an arm of the sea, and descended to its shores, intending to cross it to the small town of Muitaca, on its southern bank. After some delay, a boat descending the river to Angostura, loaded with produce from the higher regions, took us on board, and shooting obliquely across the stream, deposited us at our place of destination. Here I was again compelled to wait for a time, in consequence of my deranged health: the place was tolerably salubrious, and the delay did not much disturb me, as several weeks were yet wanting to the season when the navigation of the river was most free. I took all the means in my power to entirely free myself from illness, which interfered very materially with my progress, and still more materially with my comfort. I remained till the middle of April, making short excursions amongst the Sierras, occupying the im- mense delta formed by the bend of the river northwards. AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLAXOS OF CUMANA. 29 At length , having again partially subdued my fever-fits, I em- barked on board a large boat, which was carrying various articles of European manufacture, chiefly to the scattered settlements now much disorganized on the higher Orinoco and its tributaries. This was precisely the conveyance I wanted, as it was the intention of the padrone to touch at most of the villages, whether Indian or not, for the purpose of disposing of hi* cargo. He was a man apparently singularly fitted for the station he held. The banks of the river, and indeed the whole fastnesses wherever they were habitable, were in- fested by roving hordes of desperadoes — whom crimes of a blacker nature then usual had driven for a time from the pale of society — or by convicted felons, whom the disturbed state of the surrounding provinces had permitted to escape punishment. With the chief haunts of these the padrone seemed quite familiar j indeed it was not very un- likely but that he himself had formed not long before a part of these hordes. He was a negro of giant proportions, admirably formed^ and presenting as fine and muscular a frame as I ever saw. His bold bearing was more effective in consequence of several deep cuts which his half-covered chest exposed to view, and by a resolute and deter- mined expression of countenance, showing plainly enough that few dangers could daunt, and still fewer feelings interfere^ with thecom- mission of deeds of the most desperate character. For the personal safety of my self and attendants, and for the pro- tection of the property I embarked, I had no fear. I had become fa- miliarized with recklessness. I had found that men of the fiercest natures and most lawless habits were faithful in the performance of voluntary agreements, and more particulary in cases where unli- mited confidence was reposed in them. I left Muitaca, therefore, with a confident spirit, fearing nothing but my troublesome disease. The crew consisted of eight men of various races and colours, but all stout, athletic, and determined-looking fellows, fit mates for their leader. To these were added my two Zambos, the Indian remaining in the town — where he had met with several persons of his own tribe — and with whom he intended to proceed to some settlements existing far away towards the south. We started on the 20th of April, expecting the rainy season to be fairly set in before we reached any of the dangerous parts of the stream. What a glorious — what a magnificent river is the Orinoco ! no man who has seen its mightiness can look back to it without feel- ings almost approaching to awe. The immense mass of waters which flows along its channel — the incredible nature of the many strange sights it develops — the striking scenery through which it takes its course — combine to leave an impression on the mind, which no sub- sequent wanderings can ever efface. It was now near the end of the dry season — the current was at its lowest ebb — leaving broad spaces of bare beech glistening beneath the torrid sun. These were bounded by thick hedges of sauso, through which were openings made by the innumerable animals seeking it for prey or to quench their thirst. To compare great things with small, it looked' like a large canal with ;i towing-path on each side. Nothing was more surprising than the vast numbers of crocodiles which we daily saw, basking themselves 30 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, on the shores — a number, too, which would be increased threefold at the commencement of the inundations ; the dry season having on them a similar effect to the cold of winter upon hybernating animals in temperate climates. It is a very singular fact, that when these monsters have once tasted human flesh, they ever after show a ferocity much greater than ordinary, and a disposition to seek the same food, which under ordinary circumstances is not seen. Whether it is that they find it a more palatable prey, or whether when they have once discovered their power over man, they are more disposed to exercise it, I do not know ; certain however it is, that every village and town on the borders of the river are infested by one or more crocodiles of the largest size and fiercest habits, which during the period when it overflows its usual boundaries, and covers a great part of the streets and quays, never fail to carry off and devour several of the careless inhabitants. For a fortnight we continued our upward course without meeting , with the slightest accident. We had touched at many points on both banks — had ascended to some height, several of the smaller rivers de- bouching into the principal current — had carried on a brisk trade, which had much lightened our boat — had undergone two or three narrow escapes from being plundered or worse — when on the evening of the 10th of May we fastened the vessel to a small granite rock, rising abruptly above the surface of the river, about four hundred yards from the northern shore. We had selected this because to a certain extent it removed us from the jaguars, which had lately plagued us night after night when we had taken our position on land, or within a mo- derate distance of it. The atmosphere had been gradually losing its blue tint, and becoming of a greyish hue — slight showers of rain had occasionally fallen — thunder had been heard daily — all indicating that the wet season was about to set in. The river had already felt its in- fluence— it was slowly rising — more rain having doubtless fallen higher up towards its source. We were anchored a short distance below the junction of the Rio Capanaparo. This was much more swollen, and was rising rapidly, and had already reached an eleva- tion sufficient to overflow partially its banks. The scenery at this point was uncommonly beautiful ; to the south lofty hills appeared ; the whole intermediate space to which was covered by a sea of foliage, already showing the effects of the rain. On the north, the angle formed by the two rivers was sprinkled over by huge blocks of granite, amongst which were growing some large zamang trees, mingled with palms, and losing themselves in a thick forest at a little distance. About a mile beyond, the river was a sheet of foam, traversing a low ledge of rocks — the sound of which came to us like distant thunder. Flocks of flamingoes, spoonbills, herons, with a few golden manakis, kept the air alive, as they were slowly seeking their roosting places. Every evening we had been most miserably tormented by millions of stinging insects, which were issuing from the earth in countless swarms, as it became moistened by the occasional showers. No pre- caution we could take had been sufficient to defend ourselves from their incessant attacks. As these pests were most numerous in the lower portion of the air — that in immediate contact with the earth or AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OF CUM AN A. 31 the water — we had, when practicable, elevated our sleeping places as high as possible. For this purpose I had constructed a hammock of strips of manatee leather ; and this I had generally slung either on the branch of some tree or on two oars. After arranging every thing on board, the greater part of the crew and myself swam on shore for the purpose of collecting fuel. Some time was spent by the men in this labour, whilst I strolled about as far as the nature of the ground would permit. Before returning on board, I scrambled upon one of the rocks, for the sake of enjoying a more extensive look out ; when I reached its summit, for it was barely thirty feet high, I found that by a little stretching I could touch the extreme branches of a noble zamang-tree, whose round head and silvery and feathery- looking leaves had attracted the admiration of the whole party. By a still greater effort I managed to pull within my grasp a stronger branch, and swinging myself from the rock, after a good deal of struggling I landed safely in the midst of the thicker and stronger portions. Calling my Zambos, I desired them to swim on board, and bring me my hammock, which I at once had resolved to suspend in the tree. During their absence I selected two forked arms, as suit- able places for attaching it to, and pleased myself with the anticipa- tions of a delicious night's repose, free from the bites of musquitos and the alarm of jaguars. They had some difficulty in getting the cot within arm's length, but we did succeed ; and after desiring them to come in the morning to assist me in my descent, I dismissed them to sleep in the boat. Some time was spent in arranging my bed, sling- ing it by means of a rope to the points I had selected ; this being effected, I at once stretched myself out and prepared for rest. We had had a toilsome day, and as I freely entered into all the labours and perils of my companions, I felt much fatigued. The distant sound of the rapids, the hum of a myriad of insects, the remote calls of the monkeys and jaguars, the napping of the wings of various flocks of birds, as they were leaving the river, produced, if I may so term it, a noisy silence favourable to repose. I must, indeed, have gone to sleep almost immediately, for my memory can recall nothing but a brief duration of such sounds. When I awoke in the morning I was much surprised at the mani- fest lateness of the hour, as it had been proposed to start early. The sun was not visible, in consequence of the haziness of the atmosphere ; but from the nature of the light, I was certain that it must be at the earliest the middle of the forenoon. It must have rained heavily in the night, for I was drenched to the skin, whilst my leathern domi- cile had yielded, in consequence of the soaking it had undergone, and I found myself in a deep and slippery sack. I was chilled and stiff, and made instant efforts to free myself from my by no means pleasant trap. This was a work of no little labour ; however, it engaged my attention so completely, that I had not even found time to look abroad ; but when I did so, what a strange, dreadful, and perplexing scene presented itself! The promontory on which my habitation was fixed was now a sheet of water, which extended far — far as the eye could reach, till it was lost in the gloom of the forest. The rapids had dis- appeared ; the solitary rock, to which the boat had been moored, was 32 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, no where to be seen, and the boat itself was gone. In the first mo- ments of my astonishment, I bitterly upbraided my companions, ac- cusing them of treachery and desertion. Calmer reflection soon satis- fied me that in so doing I erred; the rivers had doubtless risen rapidly during the night, when it was most probable all were soundly sleeping, had loosened the rope securing them to their anchorage, and drifted them down the current, where their surprise, it was not unlikely, would equal my own on discovering their change of situa- tion. This view of matters was at all events very consolotary ; I felt convinced that in a few hours they would beat their way back to where I had been left, never calculating what a great alteration had been produced by the inundation upon the land-marks, which might have enabled them to find me. The situation, indeed, was not very favourable for cool consideration. After having soothed myself with the hopes of a speedy release, I set about examining my prison- house. It was spacious enough ; the tree was one of the largest of its kind, and a regiment of cavalry might have been sheltered be- neath its capacious head ; but it afforded nothing edible. Had I got into a banana, or bread-fruit tree, I might have done better ; but here nothing but the extreme twigs offered any chance of a meal. I have said that I awoke stiff and chilled, and my efforts, for a while, were directed to shaking off these feelings by passing rapidly from one portion of the tree to another. In doing this I had reached a point where a longer space than usual separated the boughs ; busily en- gaged in attending to my steps, my attention was aroused by a very loud hiss; hastily raising my head, I found myself within a foot of a full-grown iguana, whose eyes of living flame, erected crest, and extended pouch so frightened me that it was by the merest chance imaginable I did not fall. From a child I had had a peculiar dread of the lizard tribe, the newt and the little brown lizard, so common in most parts of England, had ever been objects of singular aversion to me, and the feat of all others amongst boys I could never manage, was to permit one of these animals to creep up the sleeve. I retreated, therefore, with great precipitation till I had removed myself as far apart as possible from my frightful neighbour. I knew the thing to be perfectly innoxious, yet I shrank from it as if it had been the most deadly creature in existence. To my still greater discomfiture I soon discovered that the one I had stumbled upon had a companion of equally monstrous proportions with itself. My peregrinations, limited as they had been before, were now still more confined. With a fear I could not overcome, I watched the motions of these two reptiles with a sort of fascination, and as they moved about, flourishing their immense tails, I carefully kept myself from all chance of contact with them. To increase my miseries a violent ague fit came on, attended with most excruciating head-ache and pains in all my limbs. Shiver- ing so violently that I could hardly support myself, I crouched down in the fork of two large branches, and resting my head on my knees, abandoned myself to all the horrors of my situation. The expecta- tions which I had reasonably formed faded from my mind, and as I looked abroad, and saw the waste of waters around me, swarming, as I well knew they did, with so many ferocious creatures, and upon the AND A JOUItNKY OVER THE LLANOS OF CUMANA. 33 surrounding forests, at this time totally impassable, an utter despair gradually cowed and overwhelmed a courage, which had borne me safely through many scenes of most imminent peril. The very strangeness of the circumstances under which I was placed had at first rather excited than depressed me ; but now, labouring under the attack of fever, I sunk down into total dejection. The iguanas seemed to be aware of my present helplessness, as they approached nearer and nearer, swelling out their pouches and hissing, as if they intended to attack me. The metallic lustre of their bodies, their vast length, their fiery eyes, and their erect crests, appeared to my disturbed imagination the very impersonification of all that was hor- rible. As I remained perfectly motionless, their boldness increased, branch after branch was passed, till now they had advanced within a quarter of a yard of me. By a desperate effort of volition I struck the foremost on the head, with almost convulsive energy, with my hand. This demonstration sufficed for the present to scare them away, and was besides of infinite service, by shewing me the power I possessed over them. My attention, too, was roused by the singu- lar agility with which such large animals traversed the tree. The effort I had made had in some degree rallied my spirits ; and shaking off the torpor which had crept over me, I again began to examine the capabilities of my situation, Nothing could, by any stretch of fancy, be made more dreary ; my fever fit was abating and leaving me hungry and weak. Many hours had passed away. I looked eagerly forth in the vain hope of descrying the returning boat. I mounted still higher, but nothing partaking in any thing of humanity was to be seen. No boat but my own, even supposing any should pass down or up the river, was likely to avail me. The inhabited spots were principally on the other side ; while the 'vast breadth of the stream, enlarged as it now was, would prevent all hope of my being heard or seen in my leafy home. My sole hope was therefore fixed on the return of my own people ; the doubt was whether or not they would be able to find my locality. The junction of the Rio Capana- paro would be their only guide, and this was rendered to some de- gree doubtful by the inundation having extended itself so widely, as to render the precise current somewhat difficult to hit upon. Even- ing was already approaching ; heavy showers of rain fell at intervals, accompanied by loud peals of thunder. I gave up all expectation of relief for the present day, and endeavoured to allay the gnawing hunger now distressing me, by chewing the leaves and twigs of the zamang. Since my display of strength, the iguanas had preserved a very respectful distance, confining themselves to one side of the tree. My disgust towards them was abated — their sight had become fami- liarized to me. Vast flocks of zamuro vultures winged their way over my head. Herds of chigures were swimming about in the shallow waters, their presence rousing into action numberless alliga- tors, to whom they formed apparently the principal food. These were closely pursued too by several jaguars, to whose force they fell easy victims. Troops of herons and flamingoes were wading about beneath me ; a vast number of turtles almost covered the surface of M.M. No. 1. F 34 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, the main river as far as the eye could reach, swimming against its stream ; proceeding probably to deposit their eggs, or having depo- sited them, returning to their usual haunts. Long files of monkeys were slinging themselves from tree to tree, howling in concert, or playing the most grotesque antics, whilst a shoal of porpoises came floundering amongst the broken rocks, speedily putting to flight both jaguars and crocodiles. Such sights, under more favourable circum- stances, would have afforded me much gratification. I was so insig- nificant in my present position, and so screened from observation, that every thing went on about me as if the place had been tenanted by nothing save natures so congenial to it. As evening advanced these gradually disappeared, and other races took place of them. Immense bats wheeled about me, and myriads of noctilucous insects one by one exhibited their light, till the whole forest resembled a fairy revel. The hum of mos- quitoes, zancudos, and hosts of ephemeridae, wakening into their brief life, sounded continuously, softening, nay, almost drowning the cries of larger animals now seeking their night's resting-place. From these, my elevated station happily, as I believed, freed me of all danger. The smooth and lofty- stem .of the mimosa was little likely to be scaled — it stood so far detached from its neighbours that I thought it totally impossible any exertion of strength or agility would be great enough to reach it ; and I prepared, as the shades of evening were closing around me, to pass the night in the best way cir- cumstances would allow. I cut several strong sticks with a large pocket knife I luckily had about me, and which indeed was my sole weapon of offence or defence ; with these I stretched out my ham- mock, so as to prevent the chance of its closing around me. It pre- sented few inducements for repose, but still I could lay myself out in it — the uneasy postures I had been forced to assume had wearied my limbs, and my mental energies were still more exhausted. I was very wet, but as there were no means of remedying this, I rolled my cloak about me and committed myself for the night to the cot. I sunk to sleep directly, in which state I continued till the first dawn of morning, when I was disturbed by the rustling caused by my fel- low-lodgers, who were early astir, and feeding on the leaves and what insects they could catch. I really almost envied their lot — as with such manifest enjoyment they moved hither and thither, satisfying their limited wants, and provided with abundant means to live hap- pily in their native dwelling. The rush of the mighty waters" came to my drowsy sense, and I looked wistfully abroad in confident ex- pectation of seeing the vessel. Disappointment, however, met me there ; nor, indeed, was my view very extended — a dense mist covered the whole landscape, which was gradually thickening, till in a brief time it entirely enveloped every thing with so impervious a veil, that even the nearest trees were but dimly visible. These fogs at this season I too well knew were often of considerable duration ; it swept and eddyed round me, so loaded with moisture as to pro- duce considerable sound as it was whirled amongst the branches. All hope was now gone — should my companions return in search of me, nothing but an ocean of mist could be seen, and this would as AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OF CUMANA. 35 effectually exclude a discovery of me, as if I were deeply buried be- neath the waters. I might have exhausted myself by vain shouts and cries, but that I felt how perfectly useless they must be. What was a solitary human voice, with the clang, of the whole living world around me, with the noise of the mighty Orinoco? — an infant's whisper amidst the wildest hurricane — a dying groan amongst the storm-driven breakers. The night had been fair, judging at least, from the dryness of my dress, but the vapour speedily deposited sufficient moisture to render me damp and uncomfortable. Another severe fever fit came on, in consequence of my continued exposure, and the absence of those means which were essential for keeping it in check. As I lay shi- vering and in great agony, I again lost all confidence — all hope. Naturally possessing to a considerable degree both active and passive courage, I had generally believed it impossible that any coinci- dence of common dangers should daunt me. But the fate which now was impending over me, joined to my enfeebled health, for a time overcame my spirits, and I lay perfectly still, filled with the gloomiest ideas. The ague-fits lasted commonly nearly two hours — the one on this miserable morning was more protracted, or it appeared to me to be so. As the pain and shivering slowly removed, the low and near growl of a jaguar excited my attention. I raised myself partially for the purpose of reconnoitering, but the denseness of the fog pre- vented me seeing clearly even as far as the confines of my habitation. A sudden rush through the air, and a loud crash amongst the ex- treme branches of the tree, instantly roused me to prepare to meet a more pressing danger. Snatching one of the rods I had cut on the previous night, I scrambled out of my hammock and sheltered my- self behind it. Looking towards the point where the struggling con- tinued, I dimly saw a large tiger or jaguar, making the most violent efforts to gain a lodgment. He had, however, miscalculated his leap, for crash after crash the branches yielded to his weight, and spite of every exertion, he at last completely lost his hold and tumbled down a clear height of at least fifty feet. Had he fallen on a hard surface, it is most probable he would have been killed on the spot ; as it was, I had hopes the splash he made in the water would bring about him cro- codiles sufficient to devour him ; and I flattered myself such was the case, for after a good deal of splashing and growling all became quiet. I have before said, that after an ague-fit I was very hungry : but now, after a total abstinence from all nutrition for forty hours, my desire for food became almost maddening. There were but few articles which mankind has called edible, but of which I had par- taken. Amongst others, the flesh of the iguana, which was, next that of the armadillo, most esteemed by the natives . in Orinoco, had frequently afforded me a very palatable dish. It had, however, been brought to me divested of the most disgusting forms of the animal itself. But now, as I eyed them, the alternative rose within my mind of speedy starvation or eating the frightful creatures. Hunger is but a little respecter of external appearances, and I was already devizing means to secure one of the lizards. This, however ^ I could 36 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, clearly see would be a matter of no very easy attainment ; their ex- treme agility, and their great strength, which would no doubt be called into vigorous action for self-defence, rendered it apparent that nothing but stratagem would enable me to contend with them. They had been as much frightened by the attack of the tiger as my- self, and since then had betaken themselves to the most inaccessible parts of the tree. I should therefore, at least, have to wait till their alarm had subsided, and till they descended within my reach. The mist was now clearing away ; an under-current of air sweep- ing over the surface of the river and the lake beneath me exposed them again to my view. Gazing upon the rock which my evil stars had induced me ascend, I became sensible that it had now an occu- pant ; and that in the shape of a large jaguar — whether it was the same individual that had already attempted my fastness, I had no means of determining. However that might be, it was evident enough that it was meditating the best means of reaching either me or the iguanas. He was crouched upon the highest point of the grey rock, distant about six feet from the nearest branches, and perhaps ten or twelve from the bole — a distance quite within the range of a spring. The perpendicular height of the waving boughs above him with the uncertainty of retaining his hold amongst them, seemed to have determined him to make his attempt upon the latter. From the advantage of my position, I had little fear as to the result, and congratulating myself on having discovered my enemy before he had made nearer advances, I descended as rapidly as my stiffened limbs would permit, to meet him before he had succeeded in getting amongst the branches, where in my present enfeebled state the con- test would be much more doubtful. Arming myself again with the stoutest of the sticks, and grasping my open knife in my left hand, I stationed myself where the trunk first divided itself, waiting the attack. My motions had been closely watched by the jaguar ; he was much below me, so that if he should succeed in fixing himself on the stem, I should have him at great advantage during his neces- sary slow ascent along its smooth bark. Curling up his body he prepared to spring, and in half a second he was clinging about ten feet below the point where I stood. Drawing up his hind-legs and fixing his claws firmly, he raised his fore-paws cautiously, and com- menced his approach. My intention was to permit him to come almost close to me before I opposed him. I had supposed that I could easily dislodge him ; but when I saw how firmly he held him- self, I at once became aware this would be more difficult than I had anticipated. Step after step, growling fiercely, he came on ; his hot breath steamed up in my face, whilst his eyes like living emeralds glared upon me, evidently aware of my hostile intentions. The situation in which I found myself was not peculiarly fitted for obser- vation, still I was confident in my resources, and I could not but ad- mire the strength and elegance of his frame. He was a large-sized male, and as the muscles of the loins and hind-quarters were brought into full play, the fine contour of his body was fully shewn. Already his paws were within reach of my hand, and it behoved me to try my means against him. Laying my knife in a wide fork of the tree, I AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OF CUMANA. 37 raised my club and struck him with my whole force on the muzzle. A deep growl answered me, but he retained his hold, and continued his advance with the same cautious footing. He did not, however, seem by any means emboldened by this salute, and slightly altered his course for the purpose of avoiding me. This change was so far advantageous to him that it removed his head to a point where, in consequence of the projection of an arm of the tree, I was unable to hit him where my light weapon could alone be available. To have battered his body would have a been loss of time, which was becoming every moment more valuable. I now endeavoured, by fixing the end of my pole in the angle of his jaw, to force him down by mere strength. This for a few minutes retarded his progress, and gave him great pain. He was rendered only more fierce by this means, and drawing up his body till he was nearly round, prepared for an advance which would have placed a branch within reach of his paw, which if attained, would have at once enabled him to compete with me on more equal footing. Finding my pole insufficient to repel him, I laid it down, and seizing my knife, stooped down on one knee, hoping to strike him in the eye, in the expectation that the blade was strong enough to penetrate the bone separating the orbit from the brain. My situation was becoming momentarily more cri- tical, for if I failed in the direction of my blow, the character of the contest would be changed, and would have to be carried on in a way that might speedily prove fatal to me. His huge fore-foot was now resting in immediate contact with my knee ; he was steadily draw- ing up his trunk, when stooping over him, I plunged my knife into his eye. A roar of anguish broke from him, and loosing his claws, he endeavoured to strike me. He did, however, no farther injury than slightly scratching my arm ; and, withdrawing my hand, I prepared to repeat the blow. It did not appear that the wound I had inflicted was of a very serious nature beyond depriving him of the vision of one eye. He retreated a little, and I was now in hopes that he would relinquish his attack, as it often happens that when foiled at first they retire. He now changed his course, still per- severing in his intention, and wound partly round the tree before he again made any effort to climb higher. Laying down the knife, I again seized my staff, and fixing it firmly in the socket of the injured eye, I exercised my whole strength in a vigorous push. This was to some extent successful, for he receded a few feet, leaving deep in- dentations by his claws as he was forced downwards. He was now fairly at bay, and my confidence was completely restored. His position, and the mode of his clinging to the bark, prevented him from hindering my efforts to repel him. He growled incessantly, partly from rage, but partly too from pain, and a pause of a few minutes now took place. I kept my eye warily fixed upon his mo- tions. Suddenly fixing his hind claws firmly, and giving a hideous snarl, he endeavoured to make a spring upon a projecting branch. His rage had overcome his cautious instinct. Aiming a blow at his muzzle, which took full effect, and the check given to his impetus by the attachment of his nails to the bark, he lost his footing, and fell into the shallows. Here his fate was quickly decided. The noise 38 THREE DATS ON THE ORINOCO, of the combat had attracted the attention of many of the denizens of the wilderness, and, amongst others, several large crocodiles had stationed themselves, as if watching the issue, at a little distance from the tree. By these he was instantly attacked, and almost as instantly devoured, much, I have no hesitation in saying, to my satisfaction. I was now enabled to look around me. The mist still hung in a dense mass, totally obscuring the light of day. It had become raised about a hundred yards above the surface of the waters, impending over them like a moving sea. I looked about for my reptile-com- panions, but they were nowhere to be seen. During my struggle with the jaguar they had contrived either to escape, or so to hide themselves as to elude the most anxious scrutiny. Strange as it may sound, I felt their removal keenly. The solitariness of my situation seemed more perfect, and I should have hailed their sight as the mariner hails the buoy which tells him he is near safe anchorage. This was quite independent of all feeling that I might possibly have converted them to an article of food, as the mental excitement I had undergone had for the time freed me from the pains of hunger. The loss I felt was that of living companionship — strange as that com- panionship had been. Gone, indeed, I satisfied myself they were, after a minute search throughout the vast extent of the head of the zamang. All the violent craving for food shortly returned — the innutritions nature of the twigs and the leaves did but little to allay it. The mere bulk served to assuage the painful gnawing sensation in my stomach, but no more. If I dared to descend, it was probable I might succeed in catching a tortoise, crowds of which were still floating beneath me. This, however, was fraught with such immi- nent peril, that as yet it appeared to me madness to attempt it. I might perhaps swing myself from the tree down upon the summit of the rock ; but if, in doing this, I should lose my footing, and be precipitated into the water, my doom was certain ; beside that danger, in my present enfeebled condition, all hope of return to the tree were vain ; and there at least I was safe from many attacks which would doubtless be made upon me should my locality be transferred to the block of granite. Notwithstanding the forlorn and miserable prospect of a life which at best could not long continue, I still clung to it. I had almost given up all expectation that the boat would return ; I did not think it possible that she could have drifted so far but that long ago she might have worked back. My hopes of delivery were as base- less as those of the drowning man who catches at straws on the surface of the wave which will shortly overwhelm him ; yet still I did hope, though my hopes took no definite shape. The elasticity of my mind as yet prevented it sinking into permanent despair. There were indeed moments when the whole horror of my fate came heavily upon me, but I had hitherto succeeded in shaking such ideas from me. I now cut a long pole, on the top of which I suspended part of my linen as a sort of signal-staff, should any boat pass within sight. This was however soon rendered useless for such a purpose by a heavy fall of rain, which caused it to hang motionless. It had one AND A JOURNEY OVER THE LLANOS OF GUMANA. 39 good effect — its singularity freed me from several flocks of vultures which had from time to time settled upon the tree, and whose croaking and harsh guttural sounds had much annoyed me. Day was fast waning ; at intervals I was distressed by vehement hunger, alternating with a deadly nausea ; and again and again I minutely examined every accessible portion of the tree, hoping to find something, however disgusting it might be, on 'which I could feed. Nothing could be found— the waters had driven away all the smaller animals that might have come within my reach. The isolated position of the mimosa removed it too far from any other tree for the monkeys — thousands of which were sporting within sight — to get into it, or possibly I might have secured one of them. As night approached, the solitude, in the absence of light, became much more oppressive. Its advent was ushered in by no star, the grey mist shutting out from view every thing above a particular elevation ; but the sounds that issued from all sides were sufficient indications of its near presence. Darkness was fast closing around me, and the third night of my strange imprisonment found me again extended in my hammock. Sleep had forsaken me — the hours crept slowly on — acute pains shot through my limbs — disturbed visions chased one another through my mind — strange noises issued at times from the woods, as if the whole population was aroused by broad day ; again they died away, and the deep silence was rendered still more impressive by the rushing whisper of the swoln river. It ap- peared to my longing wishes as if morning would never dawn ; and even when it did, how could its light benefit me ? The night-wind was gradually dispersing the fog, and at length the nebulous sky of the tropics came dimly into sight. As I lay gazing upon it, meteor after meteor gleamed across it, whilst the rolling of distant thunder served only to remind me of the extent of my misery. The first streak of day-light was just brightening the horizon, when a sound, differing widely from those which had been heard, struck upon my ear. To my wishful fancy it resembled the booming of fire-arms over the wide waters. It died away ; it came again and again. I was no longer in doubt that such was its nature — but whence proceeding? Could it be that my late companions were anxiously seeking me ? I feared not, as it came apparently directly across the river ; and, at length, I concluded that some petty, though bloody hostilities, were carrying on in the villages on the southern bank. A troubled sleep closed my eyelids ; and when I again awoke, the sun had risen above the trees, bounding the horizon. I crawled from my cot ; and the effects of illness, continued mental excitement, and famine were visibly depicted in my weakness, as I found some diffi- culty in supporting myself amongst the branches. The feeling of hunger was gone for the present, and had given place to a sense of complete exhaustion. I reached a point which had formed my seat on the previous day, and abandoned myself to more settled de- spondency than I had as yet yielded to. How long I had continued in this state of living death I know not, when my faculties were sud- denly roused by the report of a musket ringing upon my ear. In whatever shape humanity might approach, I should welcome it. 40 THREE DAYS ON THE ORINOCO, &C. Rising up, hastily, I answered by a shout ; which, however, met with no echo. Another shot, but more distant ; and the revulsion of my thronging hopes nearly produced fainting. Again, the sound came close upon me ; when, rounding one of the rocks, a small canoe, rowed by my faithful Zambos, with the padrone in the stern, rushed upon my ravished sight. They were looking eagerly round, occasionally discharging a musket. So much was I bewildered by the certainty of the scene, that I even neglected to hail them as they glided about a hundred yards from me ; and when I did strive to call out, my voice was nearly choked with emotion, so that at first they did not hear me. As their distance from me was rapidly increasing, I became fully roused, and shouting with all my might, or rather screaming, I was answered by a loud and joyful halloo. The canoe was instantly put back ; and, after considerable efforts, I found myself on board, shaking hands with the brave fellows, in whose eyes tears of gladness were glistening ; nor were my own unmoistened. Their desertion had been quite unwitting. The boat had been drifted down the river ; nor did they awake till she ran foul in a grove of palms, and injured herself so materially, that the whole of the following day was spent in repairing her. They had hurried their return, but had been impeded by adverse winds, and by the rising current. The mist had much perplexed them on the second day ; and, as soon as it had partially cleared away, the captain, with the Zambos, had put off in the canoe, in order that they might make rapid way, and search more closely the shores, leaving the crew to bring up the vessel more leisurely. They offered me for food the flesh of an iguana, as the greatest de- licacy they possessed ; but the remembrance of the two that had been fellow-occupants of the zamang-tree, prevented me tasting it, and I proceeded slowly to satisfy myself with dried beef. In a few hours we joined the boat, with shouts of gladness. I was infinitely gratified by the attachment shewn to me by the men. Their anxiety for my safety had been extreme ; and they had toiled laboriously to rescue me under circumstances which might have almost justified my abandonment. The shock of these events had been too great for me ; the bodily exposure, the mental torture I had undergone — when the excitement was passed away — left me seriously ill. Till our arrival on the even- ing of the following day at Carichana, I was attended most sedulously by the whole crew in turns. There I landed, intending to remain whilst the vessel proceeded up the river; and to join them on their return, and again pursue my journey to the extreme navigable parts of the Orinoco. For many days I was in a state of great danger. Under the care of a native doctor, my recovery went on slowly ; and nearly six weeks elapsed before I felt myself capable of rejoining my companions, who had made their voyage, and had now been waiting for me nearly a fortnight. The mighty stream had now attained its greatest elevation ; and, as we glided over its agitated surface, the cool breezes operated most beneficially upon me, and, upon reaching Atures, I had regained my lost health and strength. G — * THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY.' IT is curious to reflect on the little influence the writings of moral philosophers have had upon the lives and actions of the great bulk of society. Their multiplied labours appear not to have been felt be- yond the closet ; and mankind have gone on committing follies and crimes, of every shade and character, much to their own injury, and greatly to the perplexity of law-makers and law-administrators. Re- ligion, too, with its hundred ways of touching and purifying the human heart, seems to have been almost as little efficacious in check- ing its baser impulses. At the present day, it is a favourite argu- ment, that ignorance and an absence of literature are the grand sources of the social evils — which are acknowledged to be pressing upon large masses of our population. It is urged by those who take this view of the subject, that people cannot be expected either to be wise or virtuous if they can neither read, nor write, nor cast up an account. It would, perhaps, be as well to ask, what is read by the lower classes of the community — when they can read ? Now/ it hap- pened, some fifteen or twenty years ago, that the government of the day immortalized itself by encouraging a system of espionage alike dishonourable and foolish. Compassion for a large, a misguided body of men, led us to mingle occasionally amongst tjiem ; and we have reason to believe that to some extent we were successful in giving a better tone to their social and political feelings. In this par- ticular instance, we were interested in knowing what writings were chiefly circulated amongst the people ; and, with scarcely a single ex- ception, we found that their text-book was Paine' s clever Treatise, joined to two or three inflammatory and dangerous pamphlets. Here was a good gift abused, and learning acting as a poison upon some hundreds of families ! Has the diffussion of what is commonly called education benefitted the poor ? This is the question — and an important one it is ; be- cause it is upon the soundness of this portion of the social union that the safety of the whole state depends. The question admits, to a cer- tain extent, of an answer. We have lying before us several works, bearing the stamp of authenticity, and purporting to be accounts of the existing moral and social conditions of several millions of our fellow-citizens. We select the manufacturers for our present article ; * " Report of the Ministry to the Poor — commenced in Manchester, 1833.'* " Analysis of the Evidence taken before the Factory Commissioners — read before the Manchester Statistical Society, 1834." " A.n Inquiry into the Manufacturing Population," &c. — Ridgway, 1831. " Moral and Physical Condition of the Working Classes, employed in the Cotton Manufactories in Manchester."— Ridgway, 1832. " The Manufacturing Population of England— its Moral, Social, and Physical Conditions," &c.— Baldwin and Cradock, 1883. M.M. No. 1. G 42 THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY because, as a body, they are universally acknowledged to be far more intelligent than the agriculturists, and because less is generally known about them. The " Report of the Ministry to the Poor in Manchester," is a very curious, and a very valuable document. We know, too, that its statements are strictly accurate ; and that the individual, who ably discharges the arduous duties of minister, is incapable of misrepre- senting or exaggerating the state of things with which he has become acquainted. Our remarks and extracts must be prefaced by a statement shew- ing that the manufacturers enjoy the means of education in abun- dance, and that many of them are educated. From a very accurate examination of Sunday-schools, and their average number of at- tendants, it appears that at the present time upwards of forty thousand children are receiving instruction in the Sunday-schools alone of Man- chester. When it is considered that these children are chiefly those of the lower orders of the inhabitants, it is obvious that the majority of families amongst them must be more or less imbued with learning ; that is, a capability of reading and writing. That this is the fact, appears from a statement furnished by a Mr. Ashton, who reports that above one-half of the people engaged in his mills can both read and write. Such being the case, let us now examine what are the moral and social conditions, or what is the philosophy of home amongst these people. " I have been told," (says Mr. Ashworth, p. 14), "and I have heard it with sorrow, that the cruel and barbarous sports of bear-bating, dog-fighting, and other inhuman sports, are carried on in the vicinity of the town ; and I have several times seen pitched battles between man and man, when hundreds and thousands have been drawn from their work to witness scenes of inhumanity and vice, which have again led to drunkenness, fighting, obscenity, and misery. The wide open fields at the outskirts of the town, and places in the town less frequented by the walks of man, are on the Lord's day occupied by herds of boys and young men, and even by men more advanced in life, gaming. The dram-shops, tom-and-jerry shops, and public- houses, swarm the Lord's day over (except an hour or two in ser- vice time), and overflow at night by the addition of these gamblers, and multitudes of females, lost to all sense of shame, and totally des- titute of every virtue that makes woman lovely and respectable. If," (he continues, page 6), " I were to form a judgment of the whole town, from the families I have visited, I would say, divide the work- ing classes into three parts. Two of these parts have the means of making a comfortable living, their wages being sufficient to provide them with plenty of food and clothing, and every thing needful to make a family comfortable, if well laid out. But I am sorry to say, that a large number of these are as destitute of clothes, furniture, bedding, and occasionally of provisions, as the poorest families in the town. They drink more money than would amply provide them with every necessary for their families. So great," he concludes his Report, " is the depravity of large numbers in Manchester, that it THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY. 43 exceeds aught I ever saw before, and, after all, I hope not for much good being done." Here, then, we have the evidence and opinions of a man who has laboured amongst the people he describes — who has visited their homes — and, as far as his power and abilities extended, has done all that he could to amend and enlighten them. Yet we find that he is so shocked and disheartened at the depravity and utter demoralization which he has witnessed, that he declares his conviction to be, that " not much good can be done." This hardness of heart — this extent of wickedness and social degra- dation, does not arise from want of education ; that is, such educa- tion as is generally afforded to the poor ; for we find that most of these people could read at least. Mr. Ashworth says, page 9, — "I have began to take out with me religious tracts, which have been read with much pleasure, and have been lent by one neighbour to another ;" — and further, " the tracts are read and well liked." Here, then, is proof positive that the deplorable state of things is not attri- butable to what many people call the origin of evil — namely, igno- rance of the elements of learning. One of the greatest curses attendant upon the present condition of the lower classes of our population, is the spending of their wages in drink. It is lamentable to consider what an amount of misery and of privation is suffered for the sake of a momentary stimulus. Amongst the manufacturers, indeed, one almost ceases to wonder that they do drink, as the nature of their employment, and the pro- tracted hours of labour, induce a feeling of physical exhaustion, which leads them to the readiest means of relief. In doing so, they err, indeed, most widely ; but with morals so depraved as we find them, we feel little, or rather no surprise, that those hot-beds of crime and immorality — the gin-shops, are perpetually crowded. The reasoning of Maggie Mucklebackit, in Sir Walter Scott's te An- tiquary," is singularly applicable, — ee Ay — ay — its easy for your honour, and the like o' you gentlefolks, to say sae, that hae stouth and routh, and fire and fending, and meat and claithes, and sit dry and canny by the fire-side ; but an ye wanted fire, and meat, and dry claise, and were deeing o' cauld, and had a sair heart, whilk is warst ava', wi just tippence in your pouch, wadna ye be glad to buy a dram wi't, to be eilding and claise, and a supper and heart's ease into the bargain, till the morn's morning?" Maggie's speech;, though highly descriptive, and though speaking the language of millions, is incorrect both in a moral and physical point of view, but it would make an excellent heading to a discourse on temperance. It seems strange, indeed, that any great body of people should thus voluntarily become the agents of their own misery, as it does not ap- pear that the manufacturers have the excuse of extreme poverty, which, above all things, has a tendency to make men reckless. In the analysis jof the evidence taken before the Factory Commissioners, it is stated that the average weekly wages of all persons employed, is 10s. 5d. It must be remembered, that this rate of wages is not eaned solely by the head of a family; but that, generally speaking, 44 THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY. there are two or more workers in every household, and that children are employed from nine years of age upwards. This is a rate of wages decidedly sufficient to furnish the labourers with every comfort, and with many of the luxuries of life ; and yet Mr. Ashworth states that vast numbers of these are destitute of clothes, bedding, furniture, and frequently in want of provisions ; and the same evidence is afforded by the other writers. Thus we see that the philosophy of poverty is to be poor, and to waste their means in drunkenness. The houses of the majority of this class of people appear to be destitute not only of every comfort and convenience, but all their social and religious duties are apparently badly performed. " The fact is," says the Enquiry, " that the licentiousness which prevails amongst the dense population of manufacturing towns, is carried to a degree which it is appalling to contemplate. In addition to overt acts of vice, there is a coarseness and grossness of feeling, and an habitual indecency of conversation, which we would fain hope are not the prevailing characteristics of our country. The effect of this upon the minds of the young will readily be conceived ; and is it likely that any instruction, or education, or Sunday-schools, or ser- mons, can counteract the baneful influence of the moral depravity •which reigns around them ? V'Jt^L.lO t*l W14.1AV4 t/X.J.V'AXA . * Nil dictu visuque foedum haec limine tang at Intra quae puer est/ " In corroboration of this, Mr. Ashworth says, " that the depravity of great numbers in Manchester exceeds aught I ever saw." And the " Analysis," an apology in fact for the operatives, states that fac- tory girls make good wives to factory men, only they are ignorant of domestic economy." We would beg leave to hint to the compilers of this Analysis, that without " domestic economy" there can be little virtue in a wife, and that she is sure to drive her husband and herself into vice and recklessness. Such being the social condition of these people, it can, perhaps, be hardly needful to say, that their religious duties are neglected, and that vast numbers among them have never sought, or have ceased to seek, opportunities of moral and religious instruction. One of the books before us says — " With unfeigned regret we are, therefore, compelled to add, that the standard of morality is exceedingly debased, and that religious observances amongst the operative population of Man- chester are neglected. With rare exception, the adults in a popula- tion of nearly one hundred thousand either spend the Sabbath in supine sloth, in sensuality, or in listless inactivity." It is very commonly and very strongly urged, that the mal- administration of the poor laws has been one leading cause of the immorality of our labouring population. It is very true that a vast amount of social evils have attended upon a want of correct data in administering relief to the helpless and indigent ; and in some cases it would almost appear that immorality has proceeded pan passu with this mal-practice. This, too, has been aided in rural districts by the breaking up of small farms, and the consequent loss of a large THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY. 45 body of small landholders and landowners, that not long ago formed one of the most valuable portions of the community. This assertion as to the demoralizing agency of the poor laws, can in very few instances be brought to bear upon the degraded condi- tion of the population in our large manufacturing towns ; because these laws are generally administered by men of intelligence, and with the strictest regard to the interests of the rate-payers. Thus, in Lancashire, with its immense and moveable population — with its acknowledged moral, social, and religious depravity, the poor rate is less, in proportion to the number of inhabitants, than in any other county in England, amounting only to 4s. 8d. per head ; whilst in some of the agricultural counties it amounts to 16s., 17s., or even 20s. lid. per head. The "philosophy of poverty" would thus appear to consist of de- pravity, irreligion, and unlicensed wickedness. It is clear, from the foregoing details, that it is not the absence of education, or of the teachings of a pure religion, to which this state of things can be im- puted— it is clear too that it does not arise from utter and hopeless poverty, nor from the maladministration of the poor laws. From whence, then, does such a philosophy originate ? We are unwilling to believe that it can be the spontaneous production of the civilized mind. It is a state of things almost as debased as that which we find even amongst the most barbarous of mankind, and yet it is the con- dition of a large proportion of our fellow-citizens. We will not stay to discuss the question, but rather proceed to point out such remedial measures as seem likely to introduce a better philosophy than that at present governing these masses of the com- munity The grand error has lain in the kind and degree of education con- ferred upon the poor. As it is likely that further educational grants will be given by parliament, and some general scheme will be con- cocted for national instruction, the kind of education to be pursued will be of immense importance to the future welfare of our country. First, then, what is now called education — that is, the education of the poor, to which our observations refer — does not in any degree merit the name. It has been well remarked, that the error of this age is to substitute knowledge for wisdom, to educate the head, and to forget that there is a more important education necessary for the heart — or, in other words, that the intellect is cultivated, and that morals are neglected. This is strictly true ; and since education has made such rapid progress, the morality of the people has undergone a decided change for the worse. We do not wish the corollary to be drawn from this, that intellectual education, per se, has done all the mischief; what we mean to assert is, that it is a kind of education, neither fitted for the wants nor the improvement of the poor, and that they have thus been left exposed to mischievous agencies, both moral, religious, and political. What benefit, we would ask, does the labouring man derive from learning to read and to write ? — many, is the answer. No doubt he does — he may read his Bible — and he may find a source of perpetual 46 THE PHILOSOPHY OF POVERTY. amusement in books. So he may — but does he ? The facts \ve have previously stated are the best and most conclusive answer. The majority of a nation must, in all ages and in all stages of civi- lization, be " hewers of wood and drawers of water," and must always, to a greater or a less extent, be poor, and dependant upon their own exertions for subsistence. What then should be taught to this majority — because the end and aim of all education ought to be to make men good and wise ; that is, to enable them to perform their duties as husbands, fathers, and citizens — not surely to read and to write alone, unless it can be demonstrated that reading and writing are, as a matter of course, followed by the morals of public and of private life. A child, for example, is sent to a primary school every day, or to a Sunday school once a week ; here it is placed, probably, in a nume- rous class, and the attention of its teacher exclusively devoted to its progress in reading. It leaves the school, perhaps, knowing some- thing more than it did, and it goes home ; what does it find there ? drunkenness, irreligion, and immorality. Will any man assert that what it has learnt will guard it from the pestilence of example ? If our population is to be improved by education, education must be more comprehensive than it is at present, it must go on both at home and at school. The adult population is as much or more in want of moral education than its children ; and no intellectual educa- tion given to the latter ever can, or ever will, prove a blessing, inas- much as it fails in the only point on which all instruction for the poor should turn. We raise no barrier by teaching a child to read, against those daily and hourly influences, which are acting upon it at home, and which influences form and determine character, Nay, it is full as likely to turn its capacity for reading into a channel that can only hasten its moral, social, and political degradation. Instead, therefore, of looking for moral, social, and political im- provement from teaching the children of this generation the mere elements of learning, a system of home visitation, of moral culture, assiduously and pertinaciously applied, of religious instruction carried into the midst of their households, and of lessons of domestic eco- nomy, illustrated by their own misery, should be universally adopted. It is to these points that all our efforts should be directed, and with- out attention to these, schools may be built, money lavished, arid learning given, but we shall never make our population wiser men, or better citizens. What, then, it may be asked, are our people to be left in the stolid ignorance of barbarism— would you cease to teach them to read ? By no means ; but we enter our protest against this species of instruc- tion being called educating the people. The ' l philosophy of poverty" should consist of morality, religion, and content. We may educate poverty, we may give to it political rights ; but we shall never improve its condition, without this philo- sophy is made habitual to it. G. ( 47 ) THE INDIAN MOTHER. [A granitic rock on the western bank of the Rio Temi attracted their atten- tion. It is called the Piedra de la Guahiba, or Piedra de la Madre and com- memorates one of those acts of oppression of which Europeans are guilty in all countries whenever they come into contact with savages. In 1797, the mis- sionary of San Fernando had led his people to the banks of the Rio Guaviare, on a hostile excursion. In an Indian hut they found a Guahiba woman with three children, occupied in preparing Cassava flour ; she and her little ones at- tempted to escape, but were seized and carried away. The unhappy female repeatedly fled with her children from the village, but was always traced by her Christian countrymen. At length the friar, after causing her to be severely beaten, resolved to separate her from her family, and sent her up the Atabipo towards the missions of the Rio Negro. Ignorant of the fate intended her, but judging by the directions of the sun, that her persecutors were carrying her far 'from her native country, she burst her fetters, leaped from the boat, and swam to the left bank of the river. She landed on a rock, but the president of the establishment ordered the Indians to row to the shore and lay hands on her. She was brought back in the evening, stretched upon the bare stone (the Piedra de la Madre), scourged with straps of manatee leather, which are the ordinary whips of the country, and then dragged to the mission of Javita, her hands bound behind her back. It was the rainy season, the night was excessively dark, forests believed to be impenetrable stretched from that station to San Fernando over an extent of eighty-six miles, and the only communication be- tween these places was by the river; yet the Guahiba mother, breaking her bonds and eluding the vigilance of her guards, escaped under cover of night, and on the fourth morning was seen at the village, hovering round the nut which contained her children. On this journey she must have undergone dan- gers, hardships, and privations from which the most robust man would have shrunk. And the result of all this courage and devotion was — her removal to one of the missions on the upper Orinoco, where despairing of ever seeing her beloved children, and refusing all kinds of nourishment, she miserably perished — a victim to the barbarity and bigotry of wretches calling themselves Chris- tians Humboldfs Travels.'] AMIDST the rich banana trees, Within the verdant shade, Where sun-bright palms a canopy Of gorgeous beauty made ; The Indian mother's palm-thatch'd hut, In rustic beauty stood, Shelter'd o'er head by quivering leaves, Screen'd by the neighb'ririg wood. Within her quiet, happy home, Three cherub children dwelt ; High swell'd with joy the mother's heart, When at her feet they knelt. Shrieks— shrieks— wild shrieks are in the air, Fierce, fast devouring flame, Is scorching up that Eden bower, Its joys — its loves— its name. Fiercer than elemental war Man's passions stalk behind ; High rings the stern unpitying shout, " Kill, kill, or firmly bind." 48 THE INDIAN MOTHER. With bloody sword, with waving torch, With slaughter drunk or mad, Their leader urges on the fight, In priestly garments clad. Oh God ! was this thy chosen one ? Was this thy servant good ? Whose dark, relentless bigotry, Would plant thy word in blood ? With hurried speed, in terror wild, With retroverted eye, The Indian mother rushes forth, With rapid steps to fly. But not alone the mother came — Two children on her hung ; A third dragg'd onwards by her side, Within her tunic slung. Vain — vain her flight ; far fleeter steps Are pressing close behind : Again the same wild shout arose, " Kill ! Kill ! or firmly bind." Seiz'd, bound — and with her little ones, Allow'd no sign, no word, Their cries fell bitter on her soul, Her inmost spirit stirr'd. Far down the Orinoco's stream, Fetter' d, both hand and foot, Far from her happy sun-bright home, Far from her palm-built hut — Away they sail'd — hope sunk — it died — Onward the light bark sweeps; When night's dark gloom o'ershadows them, Something beside her creeps. It is her child — her youngest one, Seeking its mother's breast, On which to lay its wearied head, Its wonted place of rest. Fast were her hands— she could not clasp The cherub — but it crept Close and more close — it threw its arms About her neck, and slept. Night pass'd— morn dawn'd— from fetters freed, She moves her limbs at last, Her trembling, bleeding, tortur'd arms, Are round her darling's cast, Watch'd, guarded day and night, she dwelt, Amidst her captors stern, Who strove by blows, by stripes, by chains, Their faith — to make her learn. THB INDIAN MOTHER. 49 Her palm-built hut — her once blest home Rose brightly on her mind ; With woman's skill she 'scap'd her guards, That happy home to find. In vain — in vain — by bloodhounds trac'd Through forest and o'er plain, Herself— her little ones were found — Once more to fly — in vain. They stretched her on the granite rock, They scourg'd her writhing frame — And scornful jest and mockery Were lavish'd on her shame. The mother's rock was spotted o'er With drops of crimson blood ; Her piercing shrieks — her anguish'd groans Rose wildly o'er the flood. Oh, Heaven ! were these thy messengers, Man's sinful soul to save ; Whose piety had led them forth To cross the boundless wave? They told of love — of charity — Yet treated men as slaves : They made that paradise a hell Thick strown with tear-worn graves. No : no ! — thy heavenly mission breath'd Of joy, of hope, of love : Of holy calm, of happiness, Of endless peace above. How sacred is a mother's love ! Yet savage hearts are found Would strive to break the life-link'd chain, By which her soul is bound — Would burst the rivet — break the spell Which clasps a mother's heart ; The heart may break — but mother's love Of life itself — is part. They dragg'd her from her little ones, Though fast they weeping clung — Though drops of tear-chok'd agony Upon her forehead hung. Far — far away they carried her — Long sail'd, the victim-bark ; They left her 'midst unforded streams, 'Midst swamps and forests dark. Yet scarce had night commenc'd its reign She broke her bonds and fled — She plung'd 'midst dangers yet undar'd, 'Midst scenes of fear and dread. M.M. No. 1. H 50 THE INDIAN MOTHER. Oh, Indian mother ! did the beasts Thy sacred errand know ? Oh, Indian mother! did the streams Dry up their wonted flow ? How didst thou live in those wild haunt*? Thy food did angels bring ? Or did the God thy faith ador'd, Round thee his mantle fling ? Safely thou pass'd a wilderness Man since has never trod, Supported by a mother's love, Upheld by mercy's God. Again they found thee near the hut Which held thy precious ones ; Again blows, stripes, and chains were tried, To still thy anxious moans. Oh, mother ! broken, bud-stript flower 1 Was this thy sole reward For untold dangers overcome ? For all thy perils dared ? Robb'd of her treasured loves — her joys — Despair froze up her tears ; It iced the very springs of life, Blasting both hopes and fears. Heart-broken — withering — dying fast With spirit unsubdued, Firmly she shuts her parched lips, Refuses drink, or food. Bleeding — fast fetter'd — far away Beyond her children's cry, High tow'rds the Orinoco's source, They bore her — but to die ! For, passive — listless — stirless now, With closing, sunken eyes — With thin, attenuate, woe-worn frame, The Indian mother lies. Deserted by her savage guards, Left all alone to die ; Half-buried 'mongst the sedgy reeds, Watch'd by no human eye — Rous'd by the river's rush, the voice Of whispering tuneful trees ; Or by the coolness freshly brought Upon the passing breeze ; — She looks around — a quiet smile Upon her pale cheeks play'd ; Perchance, she dreamed that in her home Her dying limbs were laid. P. G. COTTAGE ARCHITECTURE AND COTTAGES.* WE wish that some of our architects, amongst whom there are many men of talent, would turn their attention from torturing Vitru- vius and Palladio, and from constructing mock-heroic monstrosities, to the advancement of the social and domestic improvement of their humble fellow-countrymen, by teaching the owners of property and the builders of poor men's cottages the best modes of erecting them. The bizarre taste shewn in many modern erections of great preten- sions, is a woeful proof of the declension of this branch of the fine arts. Petruchio's observation on the sleeve of his wife's gown might be well applied to some of the proudest ornaments of our existing race of architects : —