Essays on natural history

Smithsonian Institution
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Alexander Wetmore
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*

ESSAYS

NATURAL HISTORY.
Third Series.

BY

-OHARLES WATERTON, ESQ.

AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA,”’

WITH A CONTINUATION OF THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY,
AND

JOY OG NE

A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR.

LONDON:
LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, AND ROBERTS.
1857.

_ WAKEFIELD = fa

Lit

N

CHARLES HICKS, PRINTER, MARKET-PLACE,

PREFACE.

—__—_—_<—__-

As I know by experience, that the pursuit of
Natural History in the field is productive both
of happiness and health, I offer the following
pages to the attention of young Naturalists. I
can assure them, that they will find in Natural
History a most fascinating recreation. “ Beatus

ille, qui procul negotiis.”

When we reflect how completely the order of
things has been reversed in civilized life, by having
turned day into night, and vice versa, we cannot
wonder that sickness shews itself in such distressing
forms. And this will always be the case, so long
as the sound of the midnight fiddle has more
attractions in it, than the sky-lark’s matin-song.
This last brings health,—the first destroys it.

If I succeed in convincing both my young
and old readers, that such is really the case, we

shall hear no longer of their passing the finest part

al PREFACE.

of the day in the gloomy regions of Morpheus.
Bright Phcebus will be their best of friends. He
will string their nerves, and give them coral lips;
and fit each individual, most admirably, for every
following duty of the day. No shadowy allure-
ments of the silly thing called fashion shall ever
tempt me to adopt late hours. “Early to bed,
and early to rise,’ ought to be the motto of
every one who looks forward to the enjoyment
of a long life. By always keeping this good
old saying in mind, and by acting on it, I am

robust and energetic at the age of seventy-five.

So far as this little book is concerned, I respect- —
fully offer it to the notice of an indulgent Public.
Some, no doubt, will praise it; others may abuse
it. I am prepared either for honey, or for worm-
wood. Come what may, I trust, that I possess
philosophy enough to act, as a man well hacknied

in the ways of the world ought to act.
CHARLES WATERTON.

Watton HAtt,
JULY, 1857.

CONTENTS.

see See

CONTINUATION OF THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY

A NEW HISTORY OF THE MONKEY FAMILY
PIGEON-COTS AND PIGEON-STEALERS .

THE HUMMING-BIRD q
AIX-LA-CHAPELLE

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE

SCARBRO’

CANNIBALISM. : :
THE FOX

SNAKES

CONCLUSION

PAGE

CONTINUATION

OF

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY.

———<—$—<—
ae

On the 26th of May, 1844, in the last page but
one of my Autobiography, continued in the second

~ volume of the “Essays on Natural History,” I

bade farewell to the reader, and to that delightful
pursuit at the same time, so far as the public press
was concerned. The fact is, I saw, not without
some faint inward feelings ‘of regret, that my once
_ Eastern sun, was inevitably approaching to its
Western repose; that future adventures would, of
course, be scarce; and that mere common occur-
rences, incidental to retirement from a busy world,
would have little in them either to amuse or to
instruct the reader of them, whoever he might be.
Under this impression I thought, how happy I
should be, in this sequestered valley, where nature
smiled, and all was gay around me. Here, the
pretty warblers from the South, when Spring had
called them back, would charm me with their
B

1] AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

sylvan music; and when the chilling blasts of
Autumn warned them to return to their own sunny
regions in Africa, their loss would be replaced by
congregated ducks and geese, and even by Cormo-
rants, to change the scenery,—and still bring joy.

Vain. castles in the air! devoid of all reality !
delusive as the quagmires treacherous surface.
My roving spirit, ever on the watch for new
adventures, disdained a life so tame and unimport-
ant. Even the Roman poet's warning line of ‘“O
navis referent m mare te novi fluctus, had no
effect upon me. So, having formed a plan of the
campaign with my two dear sisters-in-law, Miss
Edmonstone, and Miss Helen Edmonstone, I
bade adieu to these regions of the North, and we
turned our faces once more to those of the smiling
South.

I had read Lord Shrewsbury’ pamphlet on the
Tyrolean Ecstatica; and felt wishful to see with my
own eyes, the prodigy which his Lordship has
pourtrayed most minutely. So we wended our
way through fertile lands, and magnificent scenery,
amongst people whose conduct and courtesy required
no rural police, (such as that which has lately been
inflicted, at an enormous expense, on this part of
Yorkshire,) till we arrived at the hill- surrounded
town of Botzen. |

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. lil

Foreseeing how difficult it would be to have an
interview with the Eestatica, a letter was forwarded
by the Bishop of Bruges to the Bishop of ‘Trent,
asking permission for us to enter the convent
where she resided. But, it so happened, that this
letter, by some mishap or other, did not reach
Botzen till after our arrival in the town.

May I here request my good Protestant readers,
for obvious reasons, to skip over the following
little narrative. It will do them no good ;—but,
should they read it, probably, it will place me
before their eyes, in the unenviable light, either
of a knave, or of a dupe:—two characters very
repugnant to the feelings of my interior man. I
frankly own, that, if I saw any one labouring under
a palpable delusion, I would do my best to clear
away the mist from before his eyes. And I declare,
on the word of an honest rover, that, if I had a
cheat to deal with, I would expose him before
the face of the public; just as I did with the
impostor in his barefaced account of the city of
Ixymaya, and the two dwarfs named Astegs.

During our stay at Inspruck, the good Jesuit
Fathers there, gave us a letter of introduction to
the Baron Giovanelli, in Botzen. He was very
attentive to us, and most useful at the same time:
for he not only furnished us with the necessary

BR

1V AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

letters, but he returned with us to the hotel, and
gave us most interesting information concerning
the Ecstatic Virgin, and the cause of her present
sojourn at the retired convent of Caldaro.

Caldaro is full three hours drive by post from
Botzen. It liesin the bosom of lofty mountains,
and is entirely surrounded by extensive and highly
cultivated vineyards, which are interspersed with
fruit trees. We passed along the border of a far
spreading morass, on which I hoped to see some
water-fowl. But I was disappointed. All was
nearly “barren as lances,’ as the old saying has
it. A few carrion crows, half a dozen hawthorn
finches, and three common wagtails, were all I
saw in ornithology ; saving a bird which was quite
unknown to me. It appeared to be about the size
of our common grey bunting, and with black wings
and tail. A huge and almost perpendicular sand-
bank flanked the road. To this, it would cling at
times; and then it fluttered onwards, as our
chaise advanced. Just as I felt certain of getting
sufficiently near to view its whole plumage, an
unlucky boy and girl suddenly made their appear-
ance ahead of us, and completely frustrated my
expectations. We saw no more of it.

Caldaro is a pretty rural village, in which is
situated the convent where Maria Mor] the Kestatica
resides.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. Vv

This day, November Ist. being the Festival of
All Saints, was unpropitious to our visit. We
could not have arrived at a more inconvenient time
for seeing Father Capistrani, to whom we had our
letter of introduction from the Baron of Botzen.
The whole of it till noon, was occupied in his
conventual duties: and he was engaged again,
after dinner, at vespers for the day's festival; and
at other vespers again, a little later, for the follow-
ing day of All Souls.

On account of these pressing duties, Father
Capistrani could not possibly be at liberty to
attend us, until a quarter before five oclock in
the afternoon.

By appointment then, it was arranged that we
should meet him, at that hour, in the church of
the convent, where resides Maria Morl, the Eestatic
Virgin of the famed Tyrol.

Father Capistrani is a monk of the Order of
St. Francis. His fine form and placid countenance
were wonderfully striking; and they gave us an
assurance in advance, of our good fortune in having
an introduction to him.

The convent where Maria Morl sojourns, is
about five minutes walk from his own, and a trifle
higher up in the mountain. We were already in
the church attached to it, when we saw the

vil AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

venerable Father Capistrani approaching to the
portal.

We immediately went up to him; and after the
usual salutations on similar occasions, he received
our letter; and then, in the most obhging manner
possible, he led us up to the room occupied by the
Eestatica.

He opened her door softly, and we all entered ;
viz: Miss Edmonstone; Miss H. Edmonstone ;
their maid, Mary Day; our footman, William
Ireland ; and myself.

The room is of common size, neither large nor
small. The bed itself on which the virgin kneels,
is quite plain, and has no curtains. ‘The walls are
hung with holy pictures. The head of her bed,
and one side of it, come in contact with the wall.
The foot of it, may be about two yards, or perbaps
not quite so much, (as far as I could judge), from
the other wall. On the wall at the head of the
bed, there is suspended a large and_ beautiful
crucifix ; and another equally large and beautiful,
hangs on the wall at the foot of the bed; and.over
this crucifix, is a grand and well executed picture
of the holy Mother of God.

The Ecstatica was on her knees, with her face
turned to this crucifix and picture. She appeared
quite motionless ; her eyes being stedfastly fixed

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. Vll

upon these sacred objects. During the whole time
that I stood by the side of the bed, gazing at her
holy countenance, I could not perceive the smallest
movement in the eyes. I now went up to Father
Capistrani, and respectfully said to him, in Latin,
that there was not quite sufficient light in the
apartment. He gave me to understand by a nod
of his head, and a look at two unlighted candles,
which were on a little oratory, next the wall at
the foot of the bed, that he would light one of
them immediately, by the candle which he held in
his hand. He did so: and with the additional
light from it we had a full and very distinct view
of the angel countenance before us. She was still
on her knees, keeping her eyes immovably fixed
upon the crucifix before them; and her body
seemed unmoved, as though it had been a statue.
Her hands were joined devotionally under her
chin; whilst her hair, and the rest of her person,
- were just as they have been represented by portraits
‘taken of her.

When we had fully satisfied our curiosity, Father
Capistrani desired her to come out of ecstacy. She
obeyed immediately; and then lay reclined with
her head on the pillow. Her countenance was that
which we suppose common to the angels; and on
her face could be clearly descried her calm resigna-
tion to the will of her adorable Creator.

Vill AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Father Capistrani told us that we might take
hold of her hand. It was her left hand that was
nearest to us; and Miss Edmonstone, her sister,
and myself, availed ourselves of the permission.
Whilst we were in the act of holding it, she
suddenly placed herself upon her knees, by a
movement which I am convinced no other mortal
could effect. I had never seen the like in the
whole course of my life; and I cannot describe it
in a manner to give a correct idea of what I then
witnessed. The reader must imagine to himself a
person lymg recumbent on his back, and then
arising to an upright position without’ bending the
knees, or making any use of his hands. :

No sooner had she got upon her knees, than she
fell into ecstacy, with her eyes fixed on the crucifix
at the foot of the bed; and in her appearance she
seemed to be noways altered from that in which
we had observed her on our first entering the
apartment.

I myself distinctly saw, and felt with my own
fingers, the cicatrix on her left hand ; but her right
hand being out of my reach on account of her
position, it was not in my power to examine it.

Father Capistrani now informed us, that the
Ecstatica was in the act of praying: and in about
a couple of minutes after this he desired her to

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. ix

return to herself.. She instantly obeyed; and then
we all recommended ourselves, and our absent
friends, to a remembrance in her prayers. She
spoke not one word, so I could not learn the tone
of her voice. .

Just at this time she made a sign to the Father
Confessor to hand her a box, which was upon a
little table near the window. There happened to
be two boxes on it, and by mistake, he gave her
the wrong one. On observing this she shewed, by
a sign, that it was the other box which she wanted,
and then the good Father immediately gave it to
her. The Ecstatica took two holy prints out of it,
and presented them to Miss Edmonstone ; then,
three to Miss Helen; two to myself; and two to
each of our servants.

During our interview, which lasted over twenty
minutes, she had relapsed into ecstacy several
times, and was as often recalled from it by the
intervention of her Father Confessor.

There was a Barbadoes dove in a cage at the
farthest end of the room. [I conjectured that it
was the property of her female attendant; or,
perhaps, that it was kept in the room as an
emblem of the Ecstatica’s innocence and purity. A
few ripe apples were on the window board; and
two or three small rolls of bread upon a little table

near it.

x AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Having asked Lather Capistrani if she took
ordinary sustenance, he replied that she scarcely
took any at all: a very few grapes in the season,
an apple or so,—a piece of bread not larger than
your finger, was all she would-eat,—and these,
added he, at long intervals from each other. But
this, he considered, with a little water, was by no
means enough to support health in the common
course of nature.

This Eestatic Virgin of the Tyrol has now been
eleven years the admiration of these romantic
regions far and near: but not all the time at
this particular convent. Whilst her father and
mother were alive she stayed with them; but, at
their death, she was invited to her present abode
of peace and piety, for very obvious reasons.

On the day of our visit to the convent we found
the Eestatica dressed in a white robe, tied close
round her waist by a slender cord, and nothing
more. Her confessor assured us that she had
the holy wounds of our Saviour’s crucifixion on
her feet, as well as on her hands. However,
being perfectly satisfied with his word, I should
have considered it neither proper nor decorous in
me, to have requested the favor of an inspection.
Indeed it was by no means to be wished for in
the present conjuncture, as I had already inspected

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. xi

minutely the cicatrix on her left hand, upon which
I had placed my two fingers, with studied care and
gentleness. My sisters did the same. All this
time Father Capistrani had stood a little distance
from us in respectful comportment, and had never
opened his lips, except when a word or two of
information were required by us.

We had now remained in the room a sufficient
length of time to satisfy both our curiosity and
our edification; so I retired to the place where
Father Capistrani was standing, and after making
a respectful bow to the confessor, I thanked him,
in the Latin language, for his kindness and his
services to us on the present occasion. He bowed
lowly in his turn; and then I beckoned to my
sisters, as much as to say, that it was time for
us to depart.

We all took a long farewell of the Ecstatica, and
slowly left the room, with our faces turned to the
Tyrolean Virgin, and our eyes devotedly fixed upon
her; Father Capistrani holding the door open with
one hand, whilst he pressed the other to his breast,
as we departed from the room.

Ihe Eestatica had now returned to the position
in which we had first observed her, and had fixed
her fine blue eyes upon the crucifix before her.
I was the last to descend the staircase, on which [

Xl AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

tarried for a while, in hopes that I might. have once
more the opportunity of assuring Father Capistrani
how much we considered ourselves indebted to him
for his valuable services. But, I was disappointed
in my expectations. We were doomed to see his
venerable face no more, for he had descended, we
suppose, to his convent by another flight of steps.
I fear that we must have broken in upon his
precious time, and sacerdotal arrangements; as this
day had been to him one of unmitigated duty ;
being the glorious festival, known throughout all
Catholic Christendom, under the denomination of
All Saints.

On descending to our hotel, three circumstances
forcibly presented themselves to my mind. Firstly,
the extraordinary scene which we had just witnessed,
probably never to be observed again; secondly,
the [mild and imposing demeanour of Father
Capistrani; and thirdly, the total absence of
anything like studied show, or the smallest
attempt to represent things in an interested point
of view; or indeed, to represent them in any
view at all. For it was no easy matter to gain
admission to the Ecstatica; and after we had gained
that admission, we were left entirely to our own
discernment and conclusions.

The fixed posture of the Kestatica, and then, the

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. Xi

occasional transitions from it, floated perpetually
before my eyes after we had reached the hotel;
and it haunted me to the very hour of my repose
for the night. Her existence seemed to be that
of a privileged being, exempt from the common
law of mortality; and ready, whenever heaven
should will it, to take its flight to the everlasting
mansions of the blessed in another world.

Now, what I ask, will my good Protestant readers
say to this most extraordinary narrative,—true and
correct as I have a soul to save? It is, and it will
be utterly inexplicable to them, so long as they
continue to stand aloof from the ancient faith ;
which, they have been informed, by Acts of Parlia-
ment, from the days of the sad change, is both
damnable and idolatrous.

Under such an impression, how can I expect to
persuade them, that a religion so stained and so
condemned can possibly be in favor with heaven ?
Wherefore, I ought not to be put out of sorts, if,
on this occasion, | myself, am considered by them
as an incorrigible dupe. All then that remains
for me, is to comfort myself with the old adage,
“sic mundo est stultus, qui tibi Christe sapit.”

On leaving Botzen, we shaped our course for
Trent,— Trent, so well known in ecclesiastical
history. The road is nearly level, and winds

XIV AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

along the base of lofty mountains; whilst the inter-
vening land has the appearance of a continuous
vineyard. Recent rains had much impaired it in
many places, and had forced down gravel and huge
pieces of rock into the cultivated plain, causing
lamentable spoliation. Men were standing ready,
by order of the Austrian Government, to assist
arriving carriages; but they refused our offer to
remunerate them for their labour !

I only saw one solitary crow, and a small flock
of finches throughout the whoie of this day: birds
indeed, seem to be forbidden all protection in this
portion of our earthly paradise, which, as far as
ornithology is concerned, may be compared to
Ovid's memorable description of Famine.

The railway to Venice, 1s supported by such a
length of arches, that it fairly astounds the beholder.
There must be good doings at the Hotel d’ Europe
in this ancient city; for, we had scarcely got into
it, when I spied a sleek and well fed Hanoverian
rat, basking in a sunny nook. It looked at us
with the most perfect indifference, as much as to
say, “I have capital pickings here, both for myself
and mv relatives.” How well this plodding animal
contrives to fatten both in a cold climate and in a
warm one! Although so late in the season, we
could perceive numerous bats over our heads as we

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XV

were sitting in the gondola. Woodcocks were lying
at the shop windows in great abundance.

If you chance to be near the Church of St. Mark
just at the time of “Ave Maria,’ when the people
of Venice stand in the street with their hats off,
and say a short prayer of thanksgiving for the
blessings received during the day, you will see a
man with a light in each hand before a statue of
the Blessed Virgin. Popular tradition concerning
it is, that a murder had been committed in one
of the streets. After the assassin had effected
his deed of blood, he took to his heels, and
thus escaped detection: but, he dropped the bloody
knife, near where the body of his victim lay. On
the following morning, a poor shoemaker at an
early hour, had left his house to take his usual
walk; and most unfortunately for himself, he had
an empty knife case in his pocket. On his being
taken up by the police, and his person searched,
this case was found to fit exactly, the fatal knife ;
and upon this demonstrative evidence, the shoe-
maker was executed.

At a later period, the real murderer was taken
up, and confessed his crime. The republic of
Venice, then ordered, that two torches should
always be lighted at the hour of Ave Maria, in
commemoration of the innocent shoemaker's fate ;

XVI AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

and to this day, his soul is remembered in the
prayers of the citizens.

At Venice, the kind Jesuit Fathers gave us a
letter of introduction to those of Loretto. Pigeons
in the city of Venice are remarkably numerous.
They retire to roost, and also make their nests in
the facades of the churches, and behind the orna-
mental statues of the saints, and in the holes of the
walls, where scaffolding is used. These pigeons
are uncommonly tame, and I question if they have
any owners. Cats and dogs being scarce in Venice,
may be one cause of a plentitude of pigeons.

I am very averse to Italian cooking in general.
We had a dish one day, which by its appearance
and the sliminess of its sauce, I took to be a
compound of cat and snail. When I shrugged up
my shoulders at it, and refused to take it on my
plate, as the waiter presented it to me, I could
perceive by the expression of his face, that the
scoundrel pitied my want of taste.

At the town of Monsilice, there was nothing
in the way of Natural History; saving, that,
in passing along the street, there was a goodly
matron sitting on a stool, and with her thumb
nails impaling poachers in the head of a fine
young woman, probably her own daughter. On
our way to this town, I observed a fair sprinkling

of carrion crows, but nothing more.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XVil

The morning on which we left Monsilice for
- Bologna, was dark and gloomy: but, towards noon
the sun broke out in all his glory. Butterflies and
wasps were on the wing, even though we were in the
month of November; and I could perceive cats
sunning themselves at the windows of the houses
on the side of the road.

_ Finches and sparrows were not uncommon, but
not a crow, nor a daw, nor a magpie could be
observed. Plenty of more than usually large
turkeys, evidently of this year's breed, were in
ereat abundance; and very numerous also were
dunghill fowls in the adjacent fields, and at the
barn doors of the farm houses. Dogs, upon the
whole, seemed scarce. Teal and widgeons in
abundance.

Whilst in this city, the Marquis Fransoni, eldest
brother of the Cardinal, gave us an introduction to
the Church, where, in an adjoining apartment, is
kept the incorrupt body of St. Catharine of
Bologna. We saw it, and we had the finest
opportunity of examining it with great attention.

If a splendid appearance were to constitute the
real comforts of an hotel, certainly, the one in
which we took up our quarters here, would gain
the prize of merit. But there were serious draw-
backs. O ye nasty people of Bologna, of what

| C
4

Xvill AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

avail are your gorgeous palaces, your cookery and
fruits, whilst your temples to the goddess Cloacina
are worse than common pigstyes.

At Rimini, now celebrated for its miraculous
picture of the blessed Virgin, we could see the
larger and the smaller species of bats, on wing as
the night set in. Here again, large turkeys and
common fowls were most numerous. ‘The horses
are no great things: but there are potent mules
and asses. Some of the carts cut a droll appear-
ance, by having three beasts abreast, closely allied
to each other, but not forming one distinct family.
Thus, you would see a horse harnessed on one
side, and an ass on the other, whilst the middle
place was occupied by the mule, their strong and
stubborn half brother. The oxen are nearly all
one color. They are docile, large and beautiful.
Animals, “sine fraude dolisque.” Huge fat red
pigs, some of them with white faces, might be seen,
well packed in curiously formed carts. Judging
by their plump appearance, and likewise by this
particular kind of conveyance, I suspected, that
this was their last journey, and the last day they
had to live.

The weather was now remarkably fine. Fleas
were vigorously skipping about, but we neither
saw nor felt a bug.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. X1X

At Pesaro, I had a tough contest with the
postmaster, a cunning, positive, black-eyed native
of Italy. Hesaw that we were bent on proceeding;
and he forced us to take more post-horses than we
had ever taken before.

At Case Brusciate our journey had nigh well
terminated sadly to our cost. One horse fell down
whilst going at a gallop ; and in an instant, both
itself and the off leader were on their backs in the
ditch along side of the road. How it hap-
pened that they did not drag the carriage after
them, I cannot comprehend. ‘The forewheel sank
deep in the soft earth, which partially gave way
under the weight. Had the carriage moved a trifle
more, nothing could have prevented a total smash.

Although exposed to imminent danger, my sisters
behaved nobly. Nota shriek, not a sigh escaped
from their mouths ; and when we had managed to
get them out of the carriage, they retired to a safe
distance from it, with wonderful composure, and
silently awaited the termination. But on many
other occasions when danger has been apprehended,
their self-command has been worthy of all admiration.

In the meantime, the prostrate leader kept
striking out at intervals, till at last his foot got
jammed in the spokes of the fore-wheel. Our
position was bad indeed. Every moment I expected

Cx

XX AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

that the fettered leg of the horse would be broken. |
However, by dint of exertion, and help from
people on the road, we got the leg released and the
horses on their feet again ; so that we were enabled
to reach Ancona.

Although the Adriatic had been in view for the
best part of the day, we saw not a single gull of
any species. But there were abundance of larks
and finches on the sea-shore; and Miss Helen
pointed out some scamps going after them with a
gun. One vagabond had a Civetta owl at the top
of a long pole: a common practice here, to decoy
the poor birds to their destruction. Whilst I was
condemning it, our attention was drawn to an
amusing ycung hero, who was wrestling most
manfully with a jet-black half grown pig. He
got the better of it, seized both of its hind legs,
and then forced it to walk on, as a biped; putting
us in mind of a man with awheel-barrow. At last
he jerked it into a large hole full of water and
washed it well; himself laughing immoderately, and
seemingly proud of the adventure. Cats were
plentiful; taking the sun as they sat on the roofs of
the houses.

Loretto stands upon a mountain of vineyards,
surrounded by other high mountains, also cultivated
for the grape.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXl

The celebrated Church of our Lady is most
magnificent ; whilst the Santa Casa within it,
surpasses all attempt at description. The inside of
the Santa Casa’s walls are in their pristine state ;
but those outside are entirely covered with sculp-
tured marble, chiselled by the first artists of the
times.

That Supreme Being, who can raise us all at the
last day, could surely order the Santa Casa which
was inhabited by the Blessed Virgin, when she
lived in Nazareth, to be transported from Judea to
the place where it now stands; if such were His
will and pleasure. There are authentic proofs of
its miraculous transition; but the belief of it is
optional with every Catholic, as the Church has
pronounced nothing on the subject. Millions upon
millions of pilgrims have already visited it, and
millions in times to come, will, no doubt, follow
their example. I believe in the miracle.

The road onwards, from Loretto to Rome, offered
us very scanty gleanings in ornithology. All that
we saw, was a few finches and carrion crows. The
pigs here are mostly black, and stand high on their
legs ; but not quite so high as those of Belgium.
The mules and asses seemed to be well taken care
of; and the oxen were beautiful. Although the
day was deliciously warm, and although I cast my

XXll AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

eyes upon every sunny bank which presented itself,
still, I could not observe a single lhzard. These
pretty little children of summer, were all in their
winter's sleep, safe and secure from harm.

But, now ornithology was certainly on the mend-
ing hand. Large flocks of finches flitted on before
us, whilst jays and magpies assured us by their
harsh notes and their chatterings, that they were
safe from the poison and exterminating guns of
such fell destroyers as our English gamekeepers.

Still, this unexpected treat in animated nature,
could only be considered as accidental at the best ;
for from Calais to Rome, the traveller may pro-
nounce the country on each side of the highway,
little better than a barren wilderness so far as
regards living wild animals. It is clear then, that
the traveller, jonrneying on from town to town in
continental districts, will be sadly disappointed if
he expects to find even a very moderate shew of
birds in the surrounding country. But, that birds
do frequent these regions in vast abundance, is
beyond all doubt, by the ample supply to be found
in every town during the season; especially in
Rome, where the daily consumption and supply
almost surpass belief—I have known seventeen
thousand quails to be brought to the eternal buy
in the course of one morning.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XX111

- Here I will close the scene, and return home ;
otherwise, I shail never be able to bring this
continuation of my autobiography to its proposed
termination. I have had an adventure or two of
very singular import; and I could wish to unfold
them to the eye of the curious reader, ere I bid
him adieu for ever, as far as an autobiography
is concerned. But, previously to their introduction
I would kindly ask permission to say a word on
the Gorham case:—an ecclesiastical affair which
has set all England by the ears, except us Catho-
lics, who are not in the least astonished at what has
taken place:—knowing, as we know by awful
precedents, that those who repudiate unity of
faith, have seldom any fixed faith to steer by. In
fact, surrounded on every side by the dense mist of
religious innovation, they can no longer aiseenn
their long lost Northern star.

I own, that I am not prone to revere the Church
by law established. Her persecutions and her
penal laws together, having doomed my family
long ago, to pick up its scanty food in the barren
pastures allotted to Pharoah’s lean kine; she
keeping possession of all the clover-meadows.

Thus, kind-hearted and benevolent Protestants,
will make due allowance, if I give her a thrust,
from time to time in these memoirs.

XX1V AUTOBIOGRAPHY. OF

Seeing the Bishops of Exeter and Canterbury
hard at work in doing mischief both to their own
new faith, and to our old one, I bethought me
to borrow good (?) Queen Elizabeth, in order to
remind these two potent ecclesiastics, that they
had better look at home, rather than spend their
precious time in condemning, or in supporting a
delinquent Pastor of their own new fold.

So, being in a poetical humour, one morning at
early dawn, [ composed the following lines for
insertion in our much valued Tablet Newspaper.
It goes to the sweet and solemn tune of “ Cease
rude Boreas;” and also of “When the rosy morn
appearing. ‘The measure, in my opinion, is by
far the most melodious in the English language.

APPARITION OF OLD QUEEN ELIZABETH’S GHOST TO THE
PRELATES OF CANTERBURY AND EXETER.
Church and State in conflict raging,
Filled the realm with dire alarms ;
Exeter, his Chief engaging !

Canterbury, fierce in arms.

As their mother law church staggers,
Underneath each cruel wound,

Suddenly their murderous daggers,
Drop innocuous to the ground.

For behold! in brimstone burning,
From below a phantom rose ;

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXKV

And its eyeball fiercely turning,
Thus addressed the mitred foes :

“Whilst you Bishops here are boasting
Of the reformation-tricks,

My poor soul] is damned and roasting,
On the other side of Styx.

See me punished for the measures,
Which I followed here on earth,

When I stole the sacred treasures,
And to Church by law, gave birth.

O, that in earth’s farthest corner,
I had hid my wanton head,
Ere I first became the scorner,
Then the scourge of our old creed.

Villains, bent on holy plunder,
Strove to drive from Albion’s shore,
What had been her pride and wonder,
For nine hundred years and more.

Vain have proved their machinations ;
Vain each tyrant act of mine ;
Vain all impious protestations,
Raised against that faith divine.

Still in Albion’s sea-girt regions,
Just as when [I first began,

This firm faith defies hell’s legions,
And dispenses truth to man.

XXVI1 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Ours alas! for ever changing,
From the period of its dawn,
Through what lands, no matter, ranging,
Nothing leaves, save error’s spawn.

Warn’d by my sad condemnation,
Hasten to St. Peter’s rock ;

There alone you'll find salvation,
For yourselves, and for the flock.”

This was all.—The royal spectre,
Sank again to endless night ;
Leaving each law-church director,

Dumb with horror at the sight.

But, to concluding adventures.

It has been aptly remarked by writers, that
death will often spare his victim when far from
home, and slay him at last, close to his own fireside.

Thus fell poor Bruce whom Abyssinian toils
could not subdue. Death, without a moment's
warning, struck him down at the foot of his own
staircase Sancho Panza, was justly of opinion,
that there is nothing secure in this life.

A few years ago, the jubilee which takes place
once in every fifty years, was to be celebrated in ~
the city of Bruges; and the holy blood of our
Redeemer, was to be carried in procession with
vast magnificence through the streets. My two

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXVil

sisters had already set off before me, and I was to
follow them in the course of a few days ;—urgent
business keeping me at home.

So, in due time, | left Yorkshire for London,
and thence for Dover by the night train. The
night was as dark as pitch, for there was neither
moon nor stars ; all above being one dense cloud.

On my leaving the station to go on board the
Belgian steamer, I threw my Italian cloak over my
shoulders, and with a little portmanteau in one
hand, and an umbrella in the other, I enquired for
the porter. But, he had just been engaged that very
moment, by two gentlemen who were on their way,
that night, to Calais; so, I thought that I could
not do better than keep them company. The
porter asked to carry my portmanteau; but as he
had already enough of weight upon his shoulders,
I answered, that [ would carry the little portmanteau
myself.

The Belgian boat was moored a trifle ahead
of the French steamer, and she burnt a blue light.
This, he pointed out to me. ‘You have only,
sir,’ said he, ‘‘ to cross the little bridge close by here,
and you will be on board the Belgian steamer
immediately.” I thanked him, and we _ parted
company.

Following his instructions, I passed the wooden

XXV111 - AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

bridge; and when I supposed myself at the
temporary gangway leading to the vessel—not
bemg able to distinguish land from water, on
account of the darkness, O horrible mistake !—I
‘was, in fact, on the very confine of the basin—
and at the next step, I sank overhead in the waiter,
after having dropped down some fifteen feet.
Death now stared me in the face.

Here, I onght to femark, that I wore the
miraculous medal of the Blessed Virgin, so well
known throughout all France; and I had daily
begged this ‘‘Consolatrix Afflictorum,’ that she
would obtain for me, from our dear Redeemer,
the favor that I might not die a sudden and
unprovided death.

At the first plunge into the water, I heard a
voice exclaim from the vessel, ‘‘there 1s somebody
overboard :” but not a word more. Stunned and
confounded by the awful accident, and not in
the least aware whither I was swimming, I had
got under the paddle wheel; and there 1 found
support. Just at this critical moment, when
through excessive cold and numbness, I was on
the point of sinking for the last time; a voice
called outin French, “courage, and I will save you.”

In an instant of time a Belgian sailor, seized my
hand, and immediately a comrade came to his

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XX1X

assistance. On hearing my cry for help, they had
come through the paddle house door on deck, and |
had descended through the interior of the wheel.

Arrived on board, soaked through and shivering
in the midnight blast, two police officers kindly
stepped forward to my assistance; and I requested
to be conducted to a respectable hotel. The Dover
Castle, kept by the widow Dyver, (a most appropri-
ate name on such an occasion) was the nearest to us.

Whilst the good landlady was gazing on me,
she appeared greatly affected, and pressed me
much to have a docter. “There is one close at
hand,” said she, ‘‘ he will be here in a minute or
two. ‘Madam,’ I replied, “a doctor will not be
necessary: let me have a couple of blankets. I
will roll myself up in them, and lie down on the
floor by the side of the fire, and I shall be better
at break of day.” So, I lay me down, without
taking any inward consolation in the way of cordial,
much to the astonishment of those who were
standing by.

Ere the sun rose on the morrow, nature had
wonderfully rallied. My cloak, umbrella, hat and
portmanteau, had all been picked up, and conveyed
to the hotel. ‘The portmanteau and umbrella, had
remained fixed in the mud; the cloak had floated
to a distance; and the hat had drifted still farther

XXX AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

out. ‘These unlucky remnants of an unlucky
misadventure, gave rise to a current report in
Dover, that somebody must have perished during
the night. |

I now began to have hints from within, that
I should have to wrestle with a cold and fever.
A short cough with pain at the chest, gave me to
understand, that a cold bath at midnight, was more
likely to do harm than good. Still, I felt great
repugnance at the very thought of returning home
to my house in Yorkshire.

There was a French steamer in the harbour, to
start for Calais in the afternoon. [embraced the
opportunity: so, having settled my little account
at the hotel; and having thanked the worthy
landlady for her attention to an unknown gentle-
man in distress, | bade her farewell; and whilst
shaking her by the hand, I assured her, that,
wherever I went, I would never fail to recommend
to my friends, the excellent cheer, and comfortable
apartments in the Dover castle hotel.

As we parted, she put a card into my hand, with
the address, “‘ Hotel de Paris, a Calais, tenu par
Charles Ledez.” “This, Sir,” said the landlady,
as she gave it to me, ‘“‘will be of service to you, on
your reaching Calais.”

And so indeed it proved to be: for this kind-

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXX1

hearted French gentleman, did every thing in his
power to comfort me. We had a roaring fire at
which [I gave him a full account of my recent
disaster. He remained with me in the coffee room
until midnight, when he took a ticket for me by
the train for Flanders; got my passport viewed ;
and thus saved me much trouble at the time when
I was the least prepared to undertake it.

Excellent are the accommodations at the hotel
de Paris, which is close by the railway. I would
never wish for better: So, what with Mrs. Dyver
on the English side of the Channel, and Monsieur
Ledez on the French side of it, the weary traveller,
whoever he may be, is sure to meet with hospitality,
cleanliness, and attention, as he journeys to and
fro.

Arrived at Bruges, I felt assured that I was
called upon to pay the piper for my late wintry
dance in Dover's unprotected basin.

Symptoms of fever, heats, and shiverings alter-
nately, accompanied by cough, and oppression at
the chest, warned me forcibly that it was time to
keep a sharp look out.

This was on the eve of the great festival of the
Holy Blood. I had come all the way from Yorkshire
to be present at it, and I could not well brook a
disappointment. Finding things going worse and

XXXll AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

worse on the score of health, I resolved at ones, to
have recourse to the lancet; and I forthwith drew
twenty-five ounces of blood from my arm. The
operation was crowned with complete success, and
I immediately became a new man.

The fever, cough, and headache went away as
though by magic. I found myself competent to
attend the procession through the streets of the
city, for full four hours ;—but to make all sure,
on the following morning, I took an aperient of
twenty grains of jalap, mixed with ten grains of
calomel; and this rectified most satisfactorily, all
that had been thrown into confusion, caused by
the unfortunate midnight dip already pourtrayed.

Before I close these additional memoranda to be
attached to the former autobiographical sketch
in the first and second volumes of “ Essays in
Natural History,” I have to describe another
mishap of a very dark complexion.

Let me crave the reader's leave to pen down a
few remarks on bone-setting, practised by men
called bone-setters, and who, on account of the
extraordinary advance in the art of surgery, are
not now, I fear, held in sufficient estimation
amongst the higher orders of society.

Every country in Europe, so far as I know to
the contrary, has its bone-setter, independent of
the surgeon.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXXII

In Johnson's Dictionary, under the article
‘“Bone-setting, we read, that a Sir John Denham
exclaimed, “give me a good bone-setter.” In
Spain the bone-setter goes under the significant
denomination of Algebrista. 3

Here in England, however, the vast increase of
practitioners in the art of surgery, appears to have
placed the old original bone-setter in the shade ; and
I myself, in many instances, have heard this most
useful member of society, designated as a mere
quack ; but most unjustly so, because a quack is
generally considered as one devoid of professional
education, and he is too apt to deal im spurious
medicines.

But, not so the bone-setter, whose extensive
and almost incessant practice makes ample amends
for the loss of anything that he might have acquired,
by attending a regular course of lectures; or by
culling the essence of abstruse and scientific publi-
cations. ‘With him, theory seems to be a mere
trifle. Practice—daily and assiduous practice, is
what renders him so successful in the most
complicated cases. By the way in which you put
your foot to the ground; by the manner in which
you handle an object, the bone-setter through the
mere faculty of his sight, oftentimes without even
touching the injured part, will tell you where the

D

XXX1V AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

ailment les. Those only, who have personally
experienced the skill of the bone-setter, can form
a true estimation of his merit in managing fractures,
and in reducing dislocations. Further than this,
his services in the healing and restorative art
would never be looked for. This last is entirely
the province of Galen and his numerous family.
of practitioners. )

Wherefore, at the time that I unequivocally
avow to have the utmost respect for the noble art
of surgery in all its ramifications, I venture to
reserve to myself (without any disparagement to
the learned body of gentlemen who profess it), sincere
esteem for the old practitioners who do so much
for the public good amongst the lower orders,
under the denomination of British bone-setters.

Many people have complained to me of the rude
treatment at the hands of the bone-setter; but, let
these complainants bear in mind, that, what has
been undone by force, must absolutely be replaced
by force; and that, gentle and emollient applications, —
although essentially necessary in the commence-
ment, and also in the continuation of the treatment,
would ultimately be of no avail, without the final
application of actual force to the injured parts.
Hence the intolerable and excruciating pain on
these occasions. The actual state of the accident
is to blame; not the operator.

_ CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXXV

Towards the close of the year 1850, I had
reared a ladder, full seven yards long, against a
standard pear tree, and | mounted nearly to the
top of this ladder with a pruning knife in
hand, in order that I might correct an over-grown
luxuriance in the tree. Suddenly the Jadder
swerved in a lateral direction. I adhered to it
manfully ; myself and the ladder coming simulta-
-neously to the ground with astounding velocity.
In our full, I had just had time to move my head
10 a direction that it did not come in contact with
the ground. Still, as it afterwards turned oui,
there was a partial concussion of the brain. And
udd to this, my whole side, from foot to shoulder,
felt as though it had been pounded in a mill.

In the course of the afternoon, I took blood
from my arm to the amount of thirty ounces, and
toliowed the affair up the next day with a strong
aperient. I believe, that by these necessary pre-
cautions, all would have gone right again, (saving
the arm), had not a second misadventure followed
shortly on the heels of the first; and it was of
so alarming a nature, as to induce me to take thirty
ounces more of blood by the lancet. |

-In order to accommodate the position of my
disabled arm, 1 had put on a Scotch plaid in lieu
of my coat, and init [ came to dinner. One day

D2

XXXVl AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the plaid having gone wrong on the shoulders, I
arose from the chair to rectify it, and the servant
supposing that I was about to retire, unluckily
withdrew the chair. Unaware of this act on his
part, I came backwards to the ground with an
awful shock, and this no doubt caused concussion
of the brain to a considerable amount.

Symptoms of slowly approaching dissolution
now became visible. Having settled with my
solicitor all affairs betwixt myself and the world,
and with my Father confessor, betwixt myself and my
Maker ; nothing remained but to receive the final
catastrophe with christian resignation. My affec-
tionate sisters, ever on the watch, had telegraphed
Doctor Hobson,* of Leeds, their sole remaining
hope; whilst my son had taken his departure for a
dear friend. The doctor, on his arrival exerted his
giant powers with wonderful precision, ordering the
immediate application of leeches and blisters to
the head. This masterly practice made death
surrender his devoted prey; for although, after this,
I lay insensible, with hiccups and subsultus tendin-
um for fifteen long hours,—I at last opened my

* Doctor Hobson found me with spasmodic twitchings,
and notwithstanding the previous loss of sixty ounces of
blood, ordered the immediate application of one dozen and
a half of leeches.

CHARLES WATEKTON, ESQ. XXXVll

eyes, and gradually arose—I may remark, from
my expected ruins. |

I must now say a word or two of the externals —
damaged by the fall with the ladder.

Notwithstanding the best surgical skill, my arm
shewed the appearance of stiff and withered deform-
ity at the end of three months from the accident.
_ And now, my general state of health was not as it
ought to be ;—for incessant pain prevented sleep,
whilst food itself did little good. But, my slumbers
were strangely affected. I was eternally fighting
wild beasts, with a club in one hand, the other
being bound up at my breast. Nine bull-dogs
one night attacked me on the highroad, some of
them having the head of a crocodile. I had now
serious thoughts of having the arm amputated.
This operation was fully resolved upon, when
luckily, the advice of my trusty gamekeeper (John
Ogden) rendered it unnecessary.

One morning, “ Master,” said he to me, “I’m
sure your are going to the grave. You'll die to
a certainty. Let me go for our old bone-setter.
He cured me, long ago—and perhaps he can cure
you.”

It was on the twenty-fifth of March, then, alias
Lady-day, which every catholic in the universe
knows is a solemn festival in honor of the blessed

XXXVI AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

Virgin, that, I had an interview with Mr. Joseph
Crowther, the well-known bone-setter, whose family
has exercised the art, from father to son,—time out
of mind. ,

On viewing my poor remnant of an arm—‘ your
wrist,” said he, “‘is sorely injured ; a callous having
formed betwixt the hand and the arm. The elbow
is out of joint, and the shoulder somewhat driven
forwards. This last affair will prevent your raising
the arm to your head.” Melancholy look out !—
“ But, can you cure me, doctor, sais = yeu
rephed he firmly;—‘‘only let me have my own
way. ‘Then take the arm and with it, take elbow,
wrist and shoulder. I here deliver them up to you.
Do what you please with them. .Pain is no con-
sideration in this case. I dare say, I shall have
enough of it.” °* You will,” said he, emphatically.

This resolute bone-setter, whom I always compared
to Chiron the Centaur for his science and his
strength, began his operations like a man of
business. In fourteen days, by means of potent
embrocations, stretching, pulling, twisting and
jerking, he forced the shoulder and the wrist to —
obey him, and to perform their former healthy
movements.

The elbow was a complicated affair. It required
greater exertions, and greater attention. In fact,
it was a job for Hercules himself.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. XXXIX

Having done the needful ‘to it. (secundum
artem) for one and twenty days, he seemed satisfied
with the progress which he had made; and he
said, quite coolly, ‘Ill finish you off, this
afternoon.”

At four o'clock, post meridian, his bandages, his
plasters, and his wadding having been placed on
the table in regular order, he doff’d his coat, tucked
his shirt above his elbows, and said, that a glass of
ale would do him guod. “ Then I'll have a glass
of sodawater with you,” said I; ‘‘ and we'll drink
each others health, and success to the under-
taking.”

The remaining act was one of unmitigated
severity: but it was absolutely necessary.

My sister, Eliza, foreseeing what was to take
place, felt her spirits sinking, and retired to her
room. Her maid, Lucy Barnes, bold as a little
lioness, said she would see it out; whilst Mr.
Harrison, a fine young gentleman who was on a
visit to me, (and alas, is since dead in California)
was ready in case of need.

The bone-setter performed his part with resolu-
tion scarcely to be contemplated ; but which was
really required under existing circumstances.

Laying hold of the crippled arm just above the
elbow, with one hand, and below it with the other,

xl AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

he smashed to atoms, by main force, the callous
which had formed in the dislocated joint; the elbow
itself crackling, as though the interior parts of it
had consisted of tobacco-pipe shanks.

_ Having predetermined in my mind, not to open my
mouth, or to make any stir during the operation,
I remained passive and silent whilst this fierce
elbow-contest was raging.—All being now effected,
as far as force and skill were concerned,—the
remainder became a mere work of time. So

putting a five-pound note, by way of extra fee, into

this sturdy operator's hand, the binding up of the
now rectified elbow-joint was effected by him, with
a nicety, and a knowledge truly astonishing.
Health soon resumed her ancient nght ;—sleep
went hand in hand with a quiet mind; life was
once more worth enjoying; and here [ am, just
now, sound as an acorn.

About one half-mile from Wakefield’s Mammoth
prison, on the Halifax road, nearly opposite to a
pretty Grecian summer-house, apparently neglected,
resides Mr. Joseph Crowther, the successful bone-
setter. He has passed the prime of life ;—
being now in his seventy-seventh year. But
unfortunately, he has no son to succeed him. I
might fill volumes with the recital of cases which
he has .brought to a happy conclusion. Two in

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. xli

_ particular, dreadful and hopeless to all appearance,
have placed his wonderful abilities in so positive
a light before my eyes, that I consider him at
the head of his profession as bone-setter, and as
rectifier of the most alarming dislocations, which
are perpetually occuring to man in his laborious
journey through this disastrous “‘ vale of tears.”

Thus much for accidents by “flood and field.”
Warned by experience, I shall prefer in future,
to mount into trees without the aid of ladders; and
should I again have to grope my midnight way
along the edge of an unprotected pier, I will bear
in mind, at every step, the dismal dip at Dover.

Barring these two sudden and nearly fatal
accidents, I have had most excellent health; and
whilst engaged in my late annual trips to the
continent, in company with my sisters, nothing has
intervened to damp the usual flow of spirits.

In Belgium, fine opportunities have occurred,
of seeing;many rare summer birds of passage. At
the ancient castellated villa of Viscount de Croezer,
now alas, no more. I could go and hear the
“tuneful nightingale charm the forest with its
tale,” andjsee the golden orioles at their nests, close
to the villas moat ;—a treat denied us here in
England, by plundering boys and wanton gun-men,
ever on the look out, to steal the eggs and take ©

xh AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the lives of these amusing choristers. I had

known the Viscount ever since the year 1796. He
was of mild and polished manners, and his loss will
be sorely felt by the citizens of Bruges in particu-
lar, near to which ancient city, stands his finely
ornamented and venerable chateau.

But time gets on apace. An inspection of this
silvery head of mine, which has now seen nearly
seventy-five long years, gives hints, that henceforth,
I shall not have many more adventures, either
bright or dark, of sufficient import to merit a
reader's notice.

Ere I close this page, I would fain pen down a
word or two of a visit which I paid at Christmas, to
the good Jesuit Fathers, at Stonyhurst College,
now, “into. such beauty spread, and blown so
fair.” The very sight of her lofty towers warms
my heart into a full glow of gratitude and friend-
ship for the solicitude with which dear Alma
Mater watched over my youthful days ; and for the
innumerable attentions which she has most kindly
shewn to me, up to the present time.

The English nation is too well informed pow- —

a-days to be gulled, (thanks to the change of times
and temper,) by the old bigot-cry of away with
Friars, Jesuits, Monks and Nuns.

These holy people,—these learned and disinter-

A hostile

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. xl

ested members of society, are now again amongst
us,—helping the needy,—instructing the ignorant,
feeding the hungry, and clothing the naked.
Wherever their establishments appear, we may
truly say with Jemmy Thomson the poet, that
they are, “the good and grace of all the country

round.”

So it is with Stonyhurst,—“ the safe retreat of
health and peace.” Her newly-finished square
within the ancient portal,—her recent accommo-
dations for scholastic purposes,—her warm and
spacious ambulacrum in case of rain and snow
storms, and her magnificent church of cathedral
grandeur,—her library and her theatricals prove
incontestibly, what can be effected, when sterling
piety, fine taste, and prudence go hand in hand
for the greater glory of God ;—‘‘ ad majorem Dei
Gloriam, —the noble motto of the glorious founder,
St. [enatius de Loyola.

And now let me observe, that, our higher orders
uf society, have not the whole of the honey, from

this productive hive. Here the poor, whom our

dear redeemer has so often, and so pathetically
recommended to the care of all his followers, find
pity, food, and comfort.

Without any formal visit on the part of paid
inspectors, without occasional announcements from

xliv AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

the press ;—but silently and bountifully from the
hand of a humble lay-brother, the poor receive -
a charitable dole:—upwards of sixty gallons of
nutritious soup being distributed to them twice
a week, the year throughout, with bread in addition
to all who shall apply for it.

On looking back to the days of sacrilege and
rapine, when an adulterous king with his cormor-
ant court, first plundered our holy monasteries,
and then destroyed them ; (thus paving the way for -
poor rates and union-houses ;) my heart turns sick
and falters in its beat. Heaven will bless the
venerable fathers, who have restored to the poor
their long lost halcyon times. Aye, it has already
blessed them a hundred fold, in their long and
arduous struggle of more than sixty years. The
poor themselves, will pray aloud for farther
blessings on the College of Stonyhurst, at the
gates of which, that touching plaint of

‘ Pity the sorrows of a poor old man,
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door,
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span,
O give relief, and heaven will bless your store,”
is never made in vain.
Kind reader—a few words more, and then, fare
thee well.
some sixty years ago, my father put into my

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. | xlv

hand a little iton cannon ball; requesting, at the
same time, that, I would never allow it to go out
of the family keeping. “It was used,” said he,
“against Oliver Cromwell, when he attacked our
house.” My father then gave me the following |
account :-— | '
“At that period, the old gateway was three
stories high ; and on the top of it was placed an —
iron swivel gun, to carry balls the size of that
which you now hold in your hand. Our people
who were defending the place, against the attack of
the Marauder, having observed one of his men
going up the footpath through an adjacent wood,
with a keg on his shoulder, for a supply of ale
from the village ; imagined that he would return by
the same route. Under this supposition, the
swivel-gun was pointed to bear on the path. When
the returning soldier came in sight, the gun was
discharged at him with so just an aim, that the
ball fractured his leg. Tradition from father to
son, pointed out the spot where the ball had
entered the ground. Long before you were born,”
added my father, “‘ curiosity caused me to dig for
the ball at the place which had been pointed out ;
and there I found it, nine inches deep under the
sod.’ So far my father.
. The year before last, (1855) perceiving that the

xlvi AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

drift mud had accumulated vastly’in the lake, I
determined to cut a channel three and twenty feet
deep, through the intervening rock to the level
below; in order to effect a drainage for the water,
which hitherto had discharged itself from a sluice,
merely acting as a by-wash.

On the 12th of March, 1857, being at sludging-
work, close to the old gateway, and in front of it;
we found an iron swivel cannon, eight feet deep in
the mud, and resting on the remains of the ancient
bridge. The little iron ball, mentioned above,
seems to have been cast to fit this gun. I have
no doubt in my own mind, but that this is the gun,
and this the ball which were used at the period of
the defence. We have since found several musket
bullets, a sword blade, a battle spear, two daggers,
the heads of a hammer and an axe, many coins,
three or four keys of very ancient shape, a silver
spur, and two silver plates, all deep in the mud,
and within the woodwork of the former bridge.

Up to the time of this discovery, nothing whatever
had been known of these articles. But my Father
often said, that our plate was put under water when
Charley Stuart's father made his appearance from
abroad. ey

The following historical fact, will possibly let
out the long concealed secret, touchmg the gun and

the minor arms.

CHARLES WATERTON, ESQ. xlvii

After the fatal battle of Culloden, our house

was ransacked for arms, by an officer sent hither

on the part of Government. |

When the inmates of the house, saw with anger,
what was going on; I can easily fancy, that they
would do all in their power to baffle the Government
intruder ; and that they then took their opportunity
of hurling into the lake below, what arms they
could lay hold of: the swivel cannon amongst the
rest. %

How varied is the turn of fortune! Success in
battle, or the want of it, makes a man a patriot or
a rebel. My family, solely on account of its
conservative principles, and of its unshaken loyalty
in the cause of royal hereditary rights, was by
the failure at Culloden’s bloody field, declared
to be rebellious ; and its members had to suffer

confiscation, persecution and imprisonment. It

had the horror to see, in a foregoing century,
a Dutchman declared the sovereign lord of all
great Britain ; and subsequently, Hanoverian
princes, and Hanoverian rats called over from
the continent, in order to fatten on our fertile

plains of England.

A NEW HISTORY

THE MONKEY FAMILY.

‘“‘ EX FUMO DARE LUCEM.—

Havina formerly placed the ant-bear and the
sloth in a true position with regard to their habits,
which had never been properly described ; I could
wish to say a word or two on those of monkeys,
ere the cold hand of death “ press heavy on my
eyelids ;° for having now been an inhabitant of
this planet some seventy-four years, every rising
sun informs me, that my mortal course is drawing
to its close; and methinks, that beautiful verse
of the poet comes aptly home to me, “Omnem
erede diem, tibi diluxisse supremum.”

The study of zoology is not so simple now, as
it formerly used to be. Our learned instructors
in this pleasing art, have fabricated systems so
abstruse, so complicated, and so mystified withal,
that I find little pleasure, and still less profit in
perusing the books which contain them.

Indeed, I candidly avow, that I am not learned

E

2 A NEW HISTORY OF

enough to comprehend the exact meaning of many
newly coimed words, whilst the’ divisions, and
subdivisions of species in the birds, perplex me
beyond measure, and ever and anon, make me as
angry as the “‘ fretful porcupine.”

So that, when I have managed to edie
through a few chapters of modern improvements
in the arrangement and nomenclature of animated
nature, I feel none the better for the labour.

Not long ago in glancing over a history of
monkeys, which had been sent by a friend for my
perusal, I had to pronounce the following words,
and comprehend their meaning: ‘‘ Cereopithecus,
Gallitrix, Sciureus, Oristile, Arachnoides, Subpen-
tadactylus, Hypoxanthus, -Platyrrhini, Pygery-
throeus,’ ete.

Possibly I may be wrong in noticing these
abstruse words, as, for ought I know to the
contrary, they may be essentially necessary in
these times of scientific novelty, to help the young
naturalist in his journey onwards to the temple
of fame.

Towards the close of the last century, I well
remember, when Billy Pitt’s tax upon hair-powder
changed the very nature of ornamental hairdressing.
The barbers were all up m arms; and tails, both
pig and club, as they were then termed, fell in an
universal massacre.

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 3

One order alone deemed it important to retain
the grotesque absurdities of former days. The
lawyers stood true to the powdered wig and
gown, and have patronised them up to the present
hour, in spite of their uncouth appearance. The
general impression was, that gowns of unmeaning
shape, and hoary wigs with greasy curls and
downward tails, added dignity and consequence
both to judge and council.

I verily believe, that if an unfortunate criminal,
just now were defended by a sergeant-at-law,
without his professional wig and gown; and then
condemned to death by my lord judge in plain
clothes, the people would exclaim, “that poor devil
has not had a fair trial!”

So it is with natural history. Divest a book, on
birds for example, of its unintelligible nomenclature,
together with its perplexing display of new divisions;
and then it will soon be declared deficient in the
main points, and be condemned to slumber on the
dusty shelf.

If, in this little treatise on monkeys, I shall
succeed in imparting a Jove for natural history
into the minds of my young readers; and at the
same time convince them, how much is gained in
the field, and how little in the closet, my time and
labour will be well repaid.

4 A NEW HISTORY OF

I will introduce no harsh words to confound
them, nor recommend to them, systems, which at
best, are unsatisfactory inventions. All that I
have got to say, shall be placed before them in so
clear a point of view, that every reader, be his
education light or solid, will be able to comprehend
my meaning: and nothing more than this can be
required. ,

Let us now proceed to investigate the form and
economy of a race of animals, which, although
known so early as the time in which Aristotle
lived, still even in our own days of supposed
universal knowledge, seem to be but imperfectly
understood.

The whole family of those amusing and inter-
esting animals usually denominated monkeys,
stands conspicuous in the catalogue of animals.
I shall at once divide it into four distinct depart-
ments, without any reference to subdivisions: and
this plan will be quite sufficient for the mmstruction
of our young naturalists.

I would wish to impose upon their minds, that
notwithstanding what ancient and modern philoso-
phers have written to the contrary, monkeys are
inhabitants of trees alone, when left in their own
freedom; that, like the sloth, they are produced,
and live and die in the trees: and that, they rarely

THE MONKEY FAMILY. | 5

or never resort to the ground, except through
accident or misfortune.

I would also entreat young naturalists to consider
well, and always bear in mind the formation of the
extremities of the four limbs of a monkey. This
animal, properly so speaking, is neither a quad-
ruped, nor what moderns now style a quadrumanus,
that is, a creature with four hands. ‘The two limbs
of its fore parts, may safely be termed hands to all
intents and purposes. Whilst the two limbs of its
hind quarters, are, in reality, neither hands nor
feet; but, “centaur like,” partake of the nature of
both; their fore part, being well defined fingers,
and the hind part, a perfectly formed heel. Hence,
we are not surprised at the self possession which
these agile animals exhibit, when left to their own
movements in their native woods.

In my arrangement then, of the monkey family,
I place the ape at its head: secondly the baboon;
thirdly the monkey with an ordinary tail; and
fourthly the monkey with a prehensile tail.

The ape is entirely without a tail, and in this
he resembles man. He is an inhabitant of the old
world only.

The baboon has a short tail, somewhat in
appearance, like the tails cf our own pointer dogs,
truncated and deformed by the useless and wanton

6 A NEW HISTORY OF

caprice of civilized man. It is an inhabitant of
the old world only.

The monkey with an ordinary tail, long and
bushy in some species, and only with a moderate
supply of hair in others, is found in both continents,
and in several of their adjacent islands.

The monkey with a prehensile tail, when in its
wild state, is never found except in America; so
that it is entirely confined to the new world; and
of course, was never heard of in the other three
quarters of the globe, until the discovery of that
country by the Europeans.

This prehensile tail is a most curious thing. It
has been denominated very appropriately, a fifth
hand. It is of manifest advantage to the animal,
either when sitting 1n repose on the branch of a
tree, or when in its journey onwards in the gloomy
recesses of the wilderness.

You may see this monkey catching hold of the
branches with its hands, and at the same moment,
twisting its tail round one of them, as if in want of
additional support; and this prehensile tail is
sufficiently strong to hold the animal in its place,
even when all its four limbs are detached from
the tree; so that it can swing to and fro, and
amuse itself, solely through the instrumentality of
its prehensile tail, which, by the way, would be of

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 7

no manner of use to it, did accident or misfortune
force the monkey to take up a temporary abode on
the ground. For several inches from the extremity,
by nature and by constant use, this tail has
assumed somewhat the appearance of the inside
of a man’s finger, entirely denuded of hair or fur
underneath, but not so on the upper part. By

way of recapitulation then, let the young naturalist,

when he turns his thoughis on the monkey family,
always bear in mind, that, a monkey without a
tail, is a real ape, found only in the Eastern parts
of the old world: that a monkey with a short tail,
like that of a mutilated pointer dog, is a baboon
from the same regions: but that a monkey with
a long tail of common appearance, may be an
inhabitant either of the old world, or of the new;
and lastly, that when a monkey presents itself
before him, with a prehensile tail, he may be as
sure as he is of the rising sun, it is from the never
ending forests of the new world.

The termination of all the four limbs in every

known monkey, is pretty nearly the same, varying.

4

ras
fer eg
Pid

only in some trifling particulars in certain species.
Thus, for example, the thumb is longer in some
than in others ; and in others again, the fingers of
what are usually styled the hands, from the knuckles
to the first joint, are connected, and give the hand
a somewhat unsightly appearance.

8 A NEW HISTORY OF

Nevertheless, these variations from the general

form, are so trivial and unimportant that they are
hardly worth notice ; and they affect not materially,
the ordinary appearance of the limb: so that, were
the four hands of a monkey, (no matter from what
part of our globe) cut off and presented for inspec-
tion, the inspecting naturalist, would know at the
first glance, that they have belonged to a monkey,
and to a monkey alone.
_ In other animals a man may be deceived. Thus,
it would require a keen and knowing eye, to
distinguish the feet of some wolves, from those
of some dogs; and the feet of jackals, may,
occasionally be confounded with the feet of foxes.
But, there is no mistaking what is usually termed,
the hands or the feet of a monkey. There is
nothing like them, in any other animals, throughout
the whole range of animated nature. From the
huge ape of Borneo in the East, down to the
minute Sacawinki of Guiana in the West, we may
be quite assured that they can be recognized most
easily, on the very first inspection.

Let the enterprismg young naturalist pause a
little here, and bring to his mind, the singular
formation of a monkey. Omnipotence has given
various shapes of feet to various animals: and
these feet support the respective animals on the

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 9

- ground, with most admirable ease and aptness.
But, with the monkey it is not so. We can find
nothing in the economy of its feet so called, to
demonstrate that they are intended for the ground.
The projecting thumb, and the long toes or fingers,
argue that they are inadaquate for a journey on
land, or even to make it a temporary abode, now
and then, for pleasure or for ease. Indeed, their
delicacy and tenderness shew beyond dispute, that
they have not been in the habit of coming in
contact with the sand and the flints on the paths
which nearly all other animals pursue.

These considerations force one to conclude, that,
monkeys, although gifted with astonishing power
of limbs, are destined by the wisdom of Providence
to have a region of their own. And when I shall
have placed them in it, [ trust that I shall be able
to prove by the very nature of tropical forests,
that, trees can support, and do support, the entire
family of monkeys, apart from the ground in
evident security, and with a never-ending supply
of most nutritious food.

By way of varying the dull monotony of hacknied
description, I will introduce here, a conversation
betwixt an ant-bear and a howler or preacher
monkey; although, most probably, at the risk of
displeasing scientific compilers, and of incurring

10 A NEW HISTORY OF

their monitory censure. Still, methinks, it will
not be altogether lost upon the general reader.
It will tend to show the true habits of two animals,
hitherto but imperfectly known.

DIALOGUE.

“YT thought that you inhabitants of the trees,
Mr. howler,” said the ant-bear, ‘“‘ never troubled
the ground?” “I thought so too,’ replied the
preacher monkey, “until very lately. But, I fancy
that I must have got drunk one night at a party of
our preachers. All I remember was, that I came
whack to the ground; and that soon after daylight
I found myself on a man’s shoulders, and he was
carrying me off. When I had recovered my senses
sufficiently to know what was going on, I made my
teeth meet in his ugly cheek. So he threw me
down and left me to myself. All this was pure
accident: but here alas, Ll am, with my back
broken, and for ever incapacitated from returning
to the trees, which are my native haunts.’ “I see
clearly,” replied the ant-bear, “that you are out of
your element: but pray, Mr. howler,’ continued
he, ‘how many of you howler monkeys assemble
together, when you have determined to give the
woods a benefit of your preaching? We are
gravely told by an author, that you assemble
for that purpose. ‘The idea of our howling

THE MONKEY FAMILY. ll

in concert,’ rejoined the preacher monkey, “is
most absurd. ‘Tis the invention of a wag,—
believed and handed down in writing, by some
closet-naturalist or other. Gentlemen of this last
description, seldom possess discrimination enough
to distinguish truth from error. ‘They will just
as soon, (most unintentionally no doubt,) offer
husks, left by swine, for sound corn. Had one
compiler not referred his readers to a work, written
by a man, whom he styles ‘an eccentric writer,
the public would still be ignorant of my true
history. Now, that ‘eccentric writer’ disdaining
information acquired in the closet, dashed boldly
into the heart of our tropical forests, and there
convinced himself that one solitary individual of
my tribe, produces by his own efforts alone, all
those astounding sounds, which naturalists have
attributed to a whole bevy of monkeys assembled
on the trees to howl in concert. But you,
Mr. ant-bear, if reports be true, are said to
get your daily food from ants nests, high up in
the forest trees?’ ‘‘Mr. howler,’ replied the
ant-bear, “if writers on natural history, bring
you to the ground from the tops of the trees,
in order that you may find your daily food, I
dont see why these gentlemen should not elevate
me to the tops of trees, in quest of mine.”

12 A NEW HISTORY OF

“Now, good Mr. howler, pray look at my hind
feet, and examine them well. They are just like
those of a dog, totally unfit for climbing, whilst
the fore ones are most unlikely for that purpose.
The curvature of the three long claws, added to
the inward bending of the foot itself, ought to
convince anybody, one would think, that we ant-
bears, draw no nutriment from ants’ nests in the
high trees of the forest. ‘Tis quite true, that
huge ants nests are seen amongst the trees; but,
it does not follow from this, that we are to place
our lives in jeopardy by attempting to draw our
food from them. The ground itself swarms with
millions upon millions of insects, fat and healthy,
through the whole extent of our wooded empire.
Upon these ants I exist. Neither am I in fear
of an enemy. My skin is tough enough to resist
the teeth of an hungry tiger, whilst my claws are
the dread of every rushing foe.”

“Then, remarked the howler monkey, our respec-
tive customs are opposite in the extreme. You draw
your nutriment from the ground, whilst I procure —
mine from the trees. You would perish in the
trees, and I should die on the ground for want ©
of food. Were I to abandon the trees, and be
attacked on the ground, my death would be
certain; for I can neither save myself by flight

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 13

nor by fight. In the trees alone, I am safe :—
whilst you, Mr. ant-bear, would be awkwardness
itself in a tree, and would soon wish yourself down
again.”

Here the conversation ended ;—and from it we
may infer, that the information acquired by the
in the heart of the forest, is
more to be depended upon, than that of the scien

>

‘eccentric writer’

tific compiler, who draws up the history of monkeys
in his own ornamented study.

I can well imagine, that, an attempt on my
part, to place in a new light, the hitherto accepted
habits of the monkey family, carries with it an
appearance of presumption, bordering perhaps, on
self-sufficiency.

How is it likely, sages will remark, that we can

possibly be in ignorance of the true economy of |.

an animal, known and described before the days
of our redemption? Is then the knowledge of
Linneus,—the industry of Buffon,—the researches
of Dampier, and the opinions of gone-by writers
to be thrown into the back-ground, by one, of
little notice in the walks of science? To say
nothing of our modern adepts in zoology, whose
herculean labours have enkindled such a galaxy
of light in every department of natural history ;
and have shown to the world, what study,—what

all

14 A NEW HISTORY OF

investigation,—and what talents can effect, when
properly directed? Are all these champions in
error, when treating of the monkey family? To
this, I answer, have a little patience, courteous
reader, everything shall be explained. In the
course of this treatise, I will do my best to remove
from my old grandmother's nurseries, accounts of
the monkey family, which deserve a better place ;
allowing at the same time a multitude of absurd-
ities to remain there, as mental food for little
children.

Before I proceed to examine minutely the move-
ments and the haunts of the monkey tribe, in a
state of pristine freedom, and to place every
individual of it, in an entirely new point of view
before my readers, I would fain draw their atten-
tion to an ape found in Gibraltar. It is called the
magot by French naturalists, and is an exception
from tbe general rule,—on account of its peculiar
locality.

Portentous circumstances, in some very remote
period, quite unknown to us, may possibly have
placed this imsignificant portion of the widely
extending family, in its present ambiguous position.

Or perhaps, even man himself, the everlasting
interferer with the brute creation, may, in the
ardour of a whim, have conveyed a few African

“*

THE MONKEY FAMILY. Ps

apes to the rock of Gibraltar, and left them there
to propagate their kind. If so, the existence of
apes on this stupendous fortress, may safely be
accounted for, without any particular stretch of
imagination on our part.

But, I believe, there is nothing on record to
shew, that this establishment of an apish colony
had ever taken place.

Still, curiosity is often on the alert to discover
how this ape found its way to the rock of Gibraltar;
and by what means it has managed to protect and
support itself in a locality so devoid of forest, and
so exposed to the rush of commerce, and the roar
of cannon. It is an ape in form and feature,
possessing the same powers of mimicry, so noto-
rious throughout the whole family of the monkey;
nor is there anything observable in its nature to
warrant a suspicion, that it would deviate from the
habits of its congeners, were it placed, lke them,
in the unbounded regions of freedom and repose.

At present, the ape of Gibraltar, is-a prisoner at
large, just as far as the rock extends. For want of
original documents concerning its ancestors, we
must have recourse to speculation, in order to
obtain a faint ray of light upon the history of
an animal whose habits, in one or two respects,
differ widely from those of all other apes in the
known world.

16_ A NEW HISTORY OF

Let us imagine then, that, ‘In times long gone _
by, the present rock of Gibraltar was united to the —
corresponding mountain called Ape’s Hill, on the —
coast of Barbary; and that, by some tremendous —
convulsion of nature, a channel had been made —
between them; and had thus allowed the vast
Atlantic Ocean to mix its waves with those of the :
Mediterranean Sea. 3

If apes had been on Gibraltar, when fies secttdas
shock occurred, these unlucky mimickers of man,
would have seen their late intercourse with Africa,
for ever at an end. A rolling ocean, deep and
dangerous, would have convinced them that there —
would never be again, another highway overland —
from Europe ito Africa, at the Straits of Gibraltar.

Now, so long as trees were allowed to grow on —
the rock of Gibraltar, these prisoner-apes would
have been pretty well off. But, in the lapse of

time, and change of circumstances, forced by _

ei necessity’s supreme command, for want of trees,

they would be obliged to take to the ground, on

all fours, and to adopt a very different kind of life
from that which they had hitherto pursued. — |

During the short period of* winter in Gibraltar,
the weather is often cold and raw: most ungenial,
one would suppose, to the ordinary temperament 4
of a monkey maui left prisoners on the solitary 4

THE MONKEY FAMILY. ve

rock, and for ever prohibited from following the
retiring sun in his journey to Capricorn, after he
has paid his annual visit to the tropic of Cancer.

It must have cost many years of painful endur-
ance, to have enabled animals so susceptible of
cold as monkeys are, to preserve existence in such
an ungenial situation, until the sun, returning from
the Southern hemisphere, could accommodate them
with a sufficient supply of warmth.

Be this as it may, there still exists, on Gibraltar’s
towering mountain, a small colony of apes, which,
‘Ithough in want of space to range in, seems never
to have passed the neutral ground between the
fortress and the realms of Spain. So that, up to
the present time, history has no documents to shew
that apes have ever been found wild in any other
part of Europe.

During the short peace of Amiens, at the com-
mencement of the present century, on visiting the
fortress, I saw several apes passing over the rocks
on all-fours towards the western side;—the wind
blowing strongly from the eastward.

It is difficult to conceive how these animals
can procure a sufficient supply of food, the year
throughout; or how they can bear the chilling
blasts of winter. One would suppose, that they
must often be upon very short commons, and

ie

18 A NEW HISTORY OF

often in want of a blanket. But, “God tempers
the wind,” said Maria, “‘ to the shorn lamb.”

It would be gratifying in the extreme, if we
could learn by any chance, at what period of time,
this interesting ape made its first appearance on the
rock of Gibraltar. If apes migrate from Barbary
to escape the winter season, then we may safely
conclude, that the apes, now prisoners in Gibraltar,
would make a similar movement, were it in their
power to do so. But they cannot join their
comrades,—for there is a fearful rush of water,
betwixt Calpe and Abyle.

The Abbe Raynal, in his History of the East
and West Indies, has given us an account of a
deplorable convulsion, which, in remote antiquity,
once took place beyond the “ Pillars of Hercules.”
On the authority of Diodorus Siculus and Plato,
he tells of a large island named Atalantis. “It
was a region more extensive than Asia and Lybia
taken together, and it disappeared in an instant.”

Might not then, a convulsion of nature, in a still
remoter period, have separated Europe from Africa,
and have formed the present channel, betwixt the
far-famed Calpe and Abyle ?

If we had proof sufficient, that such a convulsion
ever did occur, the location of apes in Gibraltar
would no longer be a perplexing enigma..

=

THE MONKEY FAMILY. _ 19

Let us return to monkeys in general.

It is far from my intention to uphold or patronise
the tricks and movements of these animals, when
under the command or tutelage of civilized man.
Such antics have nothing to do with the real
character of monkeys in their wild domains.

Innumerable are the narratives, in modern and
in ancient books, of gentleness in the apes, of
ferocity in the baboons, and of playfulness in all
of the tribe, from the orang-outang down to the
little black sacawinki, no larger than a rat, in the
interminable forests of Guiana.

These amusing anecdotes, in support of the mar-
vellous, may all be very well to frighten children
or to make them laugh: but, like Martin Luther's
reformation, they are not orthodox.

Then again, there has been a general and a great
mistake on the part of those who have written on
monkeys; that is, those writers have seldom, or
ever, studied their habits in the localities in which
nature has commanded them to move.

This blunder has placed the whole family in
anything but the real and necessary point of view.
Thus, in our own events, when the sun was believed
to roll round the earth, and rose every morning,
_ “roseis sol surgit ab undis,” and went to bed regu-
larly every night, “occiduis absconditur undis,” the

F2

20 A NEW HISTORY OF

whole world was under a pleasing delusion. Still,
every thing went wrong in the planetary system.

At last, in lucky hour, the sun was proved to
stand still; and then an immediate change took
place. Away went all the poet’s fictions :—man
saw his error, and he rectified it ;—and he found,
for the first time, that the earth and all the
heavenly bodies perform their revolutions in perfect
harmony, and in proper time. Might I be here
allowed to compare small things with great ones,
I would say, that up to the present time, the
monkey has been placed in the same false position
that the sun formerly maintained:—and I would
express a hope, that when I shall have clearly pointed
out the error, my readers will have no hesitation
in conceding to this interesting animal, the real
sphere of action which nature has allotted to
it; and that, they will allow it (as we now allow
the sun,) to act its proper and legitimate part in
the vast drama of the creation. In a word, I will
‘remove the whole family of monkeys from the
eround to the trees. There, and there alone,
ought we to contemplate the nature, and the move-
ments, and the entire economy of the monkey.

For many years during my boyhood, I myself
had very erroneous ideas of the sloth ; having read

his history in the works of one of the most talented
)

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 2 I.

and indefatigable naturalists the world has ever
produced. He describes the sloth as “a miserable
and degraded production of nature, occupying the
lowest degree in the scale of quadrupeds.”

But a sojourn of eleven months in the forests of
Guiana, without having emerged from them for

even a single day, afforded me the finest opportu-

nity imaginable, of contemplating the sloth in its
native haunts. I soon changed my opinion of its
habits, and I placed in the “* Wanderings ” all that
I had observed of them.

The public doubted the accuracy of my observa-
tions.

Years, however, after this, the arrival of a living
sloth at the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park,
proved my statement to the fullest extent. The
animal mounted up into a tree which had been
prepared for it, and moved rapidly along, suspended
by its natural hooks, (we can scarcely call them
claws) underneath the branches; but it was never
observed to walk, or to rest upon the upper side
of those branches.

The arrival too, of a fine ant-bear in the same
gardens, afforded a demonstration to the visitors,
that it could not possibly move forward with any
manner of ease or comfort to itself, unless the long
and sharp claws of its forefeet were doubled up

ne A NEW HISTORY OF

(to use the expression) and the forefeet themselves
placed on their outward sides; a position entirely
different from that of any other known quadruped :
nevertheless, quite adapted to the habits of the
animal in question.

I beg to offer here, two anecdotes, which will
shew how cautious one ought to be in giving full
credit to statements apparently well founded, and
believed by the public in general.

The South American quadruped named tapir,
is considered the largest wild animal in the forests
of Guiana. It is called Maipourie by the native
Indians; and as it resembles a dwarf cow some-
what in shape, when viewed from a distance, the
Dutch planters have given it the name of bosch, or
bush-cow.

In the year 1807, some thirty miles up the
beautiful river Demerara, in north latitude about
six degrees, there lived an elderly Dutch settler,
whose name was Laing.

He was one of those farming-looking gentlemen
who sauntered up and down his sylvan domain,
with a long pipe in his mouth, and with a straw
hat on his head, broad enough to serve both
himself and his wife, by way of an umbrella, in
the blazing heat of an equatorial sun.

Mynheer Laing had stubbed the surrounding

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 23

trees to a certain extent; and this enabled him to
have a little dairy, and enough of land to feed
his cattle, and to enclose a garden for the culinary
wants of his household.

_In passing up and down the river in your Indian
canoe, his house appeared to great advantage.
It stood near the top of a gently sloping hill ;
whilst the high trees of magnificent foliage sur-
rounded it on every side, saving that which faced
the river ; and there, the green sward came down
quite to the waters’ edge. On viewing it, you
would have said, that it was as lovely a place, for
a man of moderate desires, as could be found on
this terrestrial globe.

It happened, that one of Mynheer's cows, which
was accustomed to range in the adjoining forest,
where sometimes a tapir had been seen to stray,
produced a calf. It was misshapen from its birth,
and it soon began to attract attention.

Mynheer’s wife would often invite her female
friends who were located in the neighbourhood,
and who were known to be exceedingly clever in
the breeding line, to see the little stranger. To
a matron, they all agreed that it was a compound,
nalf bush-cow, and half domestic cow :—its mother,
no doubt whatever, having got married clandes-
tinely to a tapir which she must have met in one
of her excursions through the mazes of the forest.

RA A NEW HISTORY OF

This sage opinion, soon spread lke wildfire.
Everybody who went to see the prodigy, confirmed
its genealogy; and nothing was talked of, far
and near, but the prodigy to be seen at the abode
of Mynheer Laing.

When I would occasionally remark, that such a

union of animals so opposite in their nature, could
not be; and that I could not compromise myself
by patronising such a preposterous deformity, the
men pitied my incredulity, and the matrons said
that I had better attend to my own business.
These last affirmed that the animal in question was

half cow, and half bush-cow, in spite of all that I

could say to the contrary.

Determined to see with my own eyes this won-
derful production, | went up the river Demerara,
with my friend Mr. EXdmonstone, to pay a visit to
its owner.

The Dutch gentleman received us with his usual
courtesy ; and after partaking of a cup of excellent
coffee with him, not mixed with chicory, which, so
far back as the days of Don Quixote, was in no
great repute, (see Tonsons edition, page 56,
part lst, libr. lst, chapter 8th,) we proceeded to the
stable where the phenomenon was kept; Mynheer
observing, as we went along, that such a curiosity
had never been seen, since his countrymen had

\

SN

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 39

| felled the first tree on the wooded banks of the

beautiful river Demerara.

On entering the place, I saw standing there,
an animal certainly, of most curious form and
dimensions ; but not a particle of tapir or bush-cow
could I detect in it. It was a bull calf of the

common breed of domestic cows, and was awfully

misshapen. So ended the investigation; and in
a few weeks afterwards, the report of such a hybrid
gradually died away, and nothing more was said
about it.

The second anecdote fairly outdoes the first.

Some years ago, I formed an acquaintance with
a most benevolent and mentally enterprising Eng-
lish gentleman in Rome. He was, at that time
fully bent on fitting out an expedition, from his
own native land, to the interior of Africa, in order
to christianize the barbarians of those far distant
parts, and to make good English farmers of them.

Many an hour's conversation I had with him on
his darling plan of cultivating Africa. But he
could not gain me over. I placed before his eyes
the diseases of the climate, the pestilential swamps,

the torrents of tropical rain, the heat of a fiery

sun, and the hostility of surrounding tribes, savage
as the savagest wild beasts of the forest. ‘To all
this, he answered that he would try :—and after-

26 A NEW HISTORY OF

wards he did try on his return to England.
Having organised an expedition at fearful cost
to the country, it proceeded to Africa: he himself
staying an home. Woeful was its final issue. But
to the point. One day, whilst our conversation
turned upon the natural history of the country, he
asked me, if I believed that pelicans feed their
young ones with the blood from their own breasts ?
I answered, that it was a nursery story. Then
sir, said he, let me tell you that I do believe it.
A person of excellent character, and who had
travelled far in Africa, had assured him that it was
a well-known fact. Nay, he himself, with his own
eyes, had seen young pelicans feeding on their
mother’s blood. And how did she staunch the
blood, said I, when the young had finished suck-
ing ?—or by what means did the mother get a _
fresh supply for future meals? The gentleman
looked grave. The whole mystery, sir, said I, (and
which in fact, is no mystery at all,) is simply this:
The old pelicans go to sea for fish, and having
filled their large pouch with what they have caught,
they return to the nest. There standing bolt
upright, the young ones press up to them, and
get their breakfast from the mother’s mouth; the
blood of the captured fishes, running down upon
the parent's breast:—and this is all the keen
observer saw. | ;

THE MONKEY FAMILY. OF

‘Tis indeed a wonder,—a strange wonder, how
such a tale as this, could ever be believed. Still,
we see representations of it in pictures, drawn
by men of science.

But enough of infant pelicans sucking their
mamma in the nursery. I consign them to the
fostering care of my great grandmother.

In the meantime, I will proceed with careful eye
to inspect the genealogical tree of the monkey
family ; and after having lopped off its diseased
or useless branches, I will engraft in their stead,
others which I trust will bear fruit of a better
quality; and be more agreeable to the reader's
palate, than the bastard fruit which they have
hitherto been accustomed to eat.

Whatever books we open, which treat on the
habits of the monkey, we are sure to find stories
upon which no manner of reliance ought to be
placed; and it is humiliating for the cause of
natural history, to see how such absurd tales still
continue to find their way into editions of the
present times, where the schoolmaster is supposed
to carry all before him.

An immortal engraver in wood, (and faultless, had
he attended solely to his own profession,) having
never seen monkeys in their native regions, has
taken his account of them, from the pages of other
writers.

28 A NEW HISTORY OF |

In the frontispiece to his book, he gives us
an unfaithful portrait of the large orang-outang
sitting on a bench, with a cane in its hand, and
supporting its arm on it. Uncomfortable position
for the captive brute! We might easily mistake
it for aman, both in form and in position. He
tells us, that the “largest of the kind are extremely
swift.” Swift forsooth! TI should like to talk
with any European traveller, or with any native
of the regions in which orang-outangs are found,
who will positively assert, that they have ever
detected one of these apes, either young or old,
in flight, or in a journey on the ground. I would
prove the assertion to be a fabrication by the
anatomy of the animal itself.

Our author continues, that “ they drive away the
elephants who approach too near the place of their
residence.” What, in the name of bullying, I ask,
has the orang-outang to do with the elephant in
the way of residence ?

Wild animals in boundless space, do not quarrel
with others of a different species, except for food ;
and then, the strongest soon destroy the weakest,
or make them retire elsewhere. Thus, we may easily
conceive that a stiff buck goat, might so far forget
good breeding as to pounce upon a tender lamb,
and seize the savoury plant upon which the lamb

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 29

was feeding. Now the ordinary pursuits, and also

the food and the territory of the ape and the
elephant, are quite sufficient to prevent a collision.
Wherefore, we may safely infer, that as there is
no object to cause a misunderstanding between
the orang-outang and the elephant, these two

peaceful inhabitants of the torrid zone, will never

meet in hostile fury.

Again,—as he mentions the “place of their
residence,’ I would ask, who has ever seen it ?—
Pray, on what part of terra-firma, have apes
been known to locate themselves permanently, or
even for the lapse of a few days ?—The badger has
his secret cave, warm and comfortable :—the fox
his earth, whither to retire in case of need :—not
so the monkey, as I'll shew hereafter.

Of all known quadrupeds, monkeys are the least
inclined to settle. In fact, they may be said to be
eternally on the move; disporting up and down the
trees, or roving on in quest of food; and when
that becomes deficient,—deviating in all directions
for a fresh supply.

Let a man come up with a troop of monkeys in
the trees above him, as I myself have often done ;
and I will give my ears if he find them in the same
locality on the following day. They would have |
no attraction to those trees, saving the hope of

30 A NEW HISTORY OF

nutriment, which would not last them long. Had
these errant animals, nests, or recesses in the trees,
wherein to rear their young, certainly, in this case,
we should see them skulking near “their place of
residence.” But, no such thing. I could never

find a young monkey left to itself; neither could —

I learn from the Indians, that they themselves had
ever seen one, except in company with the rest.

When stationary, or when in motion, the baby
monkey adheres closely to the mother’s body: so
closely, that it requires a keen, and an accustomed
eye to distinguish it. The mothers may be aptly
styled a kind of moving cradle; their fur or
coat of hair, serving as blankets for the little ones
in earliest infancy. If you are in want of a tender
monkey, a month old or so, to boil for broth, or to
educate as a pet, your only chance of success is,
to shoot the poor mother: but, not with a fowling
piece. Nine times out of ten, the wounded mother
would stay in the clefts of the trees, where she
would ultimately perish with her progeny. An
arrow, poisoned with wourali, is your surest weapon.
Take a good aim, and in a few minutes, the
monkey will be lying dead at your feet.

The wourali poison, (see the Wanderings) totally
destroys all tension in the muscles. Now, a
cunshot wound, even although it be mortal, has

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 31

not such an immediate effect. Knowing this to
be the case, whenever a monkey was wanted,
recourse was had to poisoned arrows. By this
precaution, the ill-fated animal's existence was not
prolonged under the painful anguish of a deadly
wound. The wourali poison would act as a balmy
soporific, and the victim would be dead at your feet
in a very short space of time.

In treating of the “‘pigmy ape,” our author
remarks, that troops of them assemble together,
and defend themselves from the attacks of wild
beasts in the desert, by throwing a cloud of sand
behind them, which blinks their pursuers, and
facilitates their escape.

Now, this act of throwing dust in the eyes of a
pursuing enemy, is a most extraordinary feat on
the part of the pigmy ape, and were it really the
case, it would argue a faculty in the monkey tribe,
far surpassing that of instinct.

But, let me ask in the first place, who ever saw
monkeys in a sandy desert ?—or, if in decided
opposition to their ordinary habits, they had strayed
out of bounds ;—pray what kind of pursuers were
those which received the cloud of sand from the
monkeys’ hands? Were they wolves, or bears,
or foxes, or jackals? If any of this motley
group of hunters,—say, what were the hunters

32 A NEW HISTORY OF

themselves doing in a sandy desert, where no —
food could be procured, either by the pursued
or by the pursuers? I have spent days in the
sandy deserts of Guiana. They are called dry
savannas. But never did I see a monkey there.
Had I observed one, my astonishment would have
been beyond the power of words; and I should
have been utterly at a loss to account for the
apparition. In the second place, an assemblage of
monkeys, argues a tract of trees. Supposing then,
that there had actually been a tract of trees in
the desert, these monkeys must have been deprived
of their usual instinct to descend and take up a
handful of sand, in order to throw it at their
pursuers; and thus expose themselves to have
their backs broken by the jaws of a famished
jackal, or to be made mince-meat of, and then
swallowed by a pack of ferocious wolves. Depend
upon it, no bands of monkeys and of wild beasts,
have ever yet had a hostile meeting; or been
engaged in hot pursuit of each other; or ever will
have one to the end of time. In the third place,
I positively affirm, that the act of throwing
things, does not exist in any animal, except in
man, whose reasoning faculties enable him to
perform the feat. But more of this anon. The
prerogative must not be conceded to the monkey

Bh) ele «RU RS lee ad ee

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 30

family, however highly we may estimate its powers

of mimickry.

One quotation more from our immortal engraver
in wood, and then I will shut his valuable hook,
wishing sincerely, for the good of zoology, that he
had confined himself solely to the engraving

department of it, in lieu of consulting writers

whose judgment seems never to have been suffici-
ently matured, to enable them to distinguish truth
from fiction. Hence, with the very best intentions,
they are perpetually going astray by too often
mistaking for real flame, the fallacious exhalations
of “Will o the Wisp,’ as they hover over the
treacherous surface of a distant quagmire.

_ He informs his readers in the volume of quad-
rupeds, that “ monkeys break off branches,— throw
them at the passengers, and frequently with so sure
an aim, as to annoy them not a little.”

This is said of the pata or red monkey, perhaps
the most wary of all the family, and ever on the
alert to escape when man approaches. But, grant-
ing for a moment, that monkeys have the power to
throw sticks, let me ask, how did the patas contrive
to take a sure aim, amongst the woven and inter-
vening branches of a tropical forest ? The question
j8 easily answered. This monkey, by its natural
shyness and fear of danger, has never had time,

G

34 | A NEW HISTORY OF

nor opportunity to fling a stick with sure aim,
at the head of any traveller.

The traveller who first invented this idle story of
monkeys throwing branches at passengers, must
have been a wag of the first order, and of most
inventive intellect.

The art of throwing projectiles has not been
given to the brute creation; man alone,—man,
a rational being, possesses the qualification. Mon-
keys know nothing at all of the combined act
of moving an elevated arm backwards, and then,
whilst bringing it forwards, to open the hand, just
at that particular time when the arm can impart
motion to the thing which the hand had grasped.
Thus, man, at a distance from you, can aim a stone
at your head, and break your skull. The monkey
can do no such thing. It will certainly take up a
stone or a stick ;-—but that is all, as far as aggres-
sion is concerned. The stone or the stick in lieu
of flying off from the monkey's hand, would drop
perpendicularly to the ground, like Corporal Trim’s
hat, when the serious soldier was making reflections
on death, before the ‘servants in Captain Shandy’s
brother's kitchen. ‘“ Are we not (dropping his hat
upon the ground) gone in a moment ? ”

Reader, inspect the Zoological Gardens, in Re-
gents Park, from morning until night, where there

)

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 35

is always a charming show of monkeys; and I will
stake my ears, that you never see one of them
do that, which we commonly call the act of throw-
ing a stone at any intervening object.

I will now cross the channel, and peep into the
books of foreign naturalists who have written
on monkeys.

I find in one of these authors, that, “‘in relative
qualities therefore, the ape is farther removed from
the human race, than most other animals.”
Granted. He then continues, that “his tempera-
ment is also very different. Man can inhabit every
climate. He lives and multiplies in the Northern,
as well as in the Southern regions of the earth.
But, the ape exists with difficulty in temperate
countries, and can multiply only in those that are
warm.

I must make an observation or two, upon this

last quotation in which our great continental
naturalist does not appear to have paid sufficient
attention to his subject.

Methinks he ought to have reflected, that man
and monkey are both made of flesh and blood; but,
that man has been endowed with reason by his
Maker, whilst ‘the monkey has not been so fortu-
nate. ‘This makes all the difference with regard to
“temperament. Reason teaches man to protect

GR

36 A NEW HISTORY OF

himself against the rigours of a Northern climate
by fire and blanket. Did the monkey possess
the blessing of reason, so that he could buy, or
manufacture for himself a comfortable roquelaure
in case of cold; and roast a leg of mutton for
his dinner; and mix a glass of hot toddy before he
went to bed,—he, too, as well as rational man,
would be safe, and would enjoy himself in the
deepest recesses of the frozen zone.

Now, deprive man of his roquelaure, his mutton
and his toddy, and then, place him alongside
of the monkey, to pass a week in Nova Zembla,
whilst the sun is at Capricorn; be assured, that
both man and ape would perish side by side.
Proof sufficient, that the natural ‘ temperament ”
is much the same in both animals ;—but that,
reason nourishes it in the one, whilst the want of
reason, destroys it in the other. Instinct alone
is not sufficient to procure a sufficient supply of
artificial food for the monkey; wherefore this
animal must depend upon the bounty of nature for
its daily nutriment; and this nutriment can only
be had, the year throughout, in the tropics, and
in the forests bordering on them. This, I will
shew in the sequel.

Proceeding onwards with our author's history
of the monkey family, I find his account of the

THE MONKEY FAMILY. or

orang-outang, anything but true and satisfactory.
It seems to have been made up, partly from what
has been observed of the animal, when in a state
of captivity, and partly from the reports of travel-
lers. Such reports, nine times out of ten, contain
a strong infusion of the marvellous; and they
ought to be received with caution, and be sifted most
diligently by those naturalists whose delicate state
of health, or domestic arrangements, prevent them
from visiting the countries where monkeys abound.

He quotes, but seems to condemn at the same
time, a great Northern master in zoology, who
upon the reports of certain voyagers tells us, that
the “ orang-outang is not deprived of this faculty
(speech), and that it expresses itself by a kind
of hissing words.”

But, our author himself doubts that there is
such an animal of “ hissing words;” nay, he even
denies its existence; and he conjectures, that it
might possibly have been a white negro, or what
is usually styled a chacrelas.

This animal could not possibly have been a
white negro, because a white negro is a human
being to all intents and purposes, and he has no
need to express himself by a kind of “‘ hissing
words.” By the way, a white negro is a rare
phenomenon :—still it differs from its sable fellow |

38 A NEW HISTORY OF

Africans, in nothing but in color. Once, and only |
once, during my life, I have had an opportunity of
examining minutely, an entirely white negro.

In the year 1812, there lived in the town of
Stabroek, the capital of Demerara, a man of this
complexion. He was a robust young fellow,—
by no means what they called an Albino, as his eyes
were just of the same color as those of his tribe.
Having been shewn the house where he lived,
I knocked at the door and begged admittance. On
addressing him, I said, that having heard much
of his fair skin, I had come that morning to make
acquaintance with him. He went by the name
of Bochra Jem, or White Jeommy,—was a tailor by —
trade, and was the property of the good woman who >
had’ opened me the door. )

He answered without hesitation, every question
which I put to him; and he willingly allowed
me to examine him, for any length of time. His
whole frame was delicately white wherever his
clothing had defended it from the scorching rays of
the sun. In fact, 1 found his skin in all respects,
the same as my own, saving that, where the sun
had given mine the appearance of mahogany—his
was blotched with broad freckles of a lighter tint.
In all other respects, he was in reality, a negro
from head to foot ;—for his hair was curly, and his

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 39

nose depressed; his lips protuberant,—and _ his
ears as small as those of a genuine coal-black son
of Africa. He stood apparently about five feet
nine inches in height, with a finely expanded chest,
and with a back as straight as an arrow. But,
he was deficient in the calves of his legs, which —
latter were rather inclined to be, what we would
term bandy; whilst you could not help remarking
the protrusion of his heels, so noted in the negro.
Both his father and his mother were healthy jet
black negroes; so that Bochra Jem could not,
by any chance be a mulatto, or of any of those
casts which are removed from the breed of half
black and half white, constituting a true mulatto.
I should say, that he was twenty years old or there-
abouts :—but I did not ask his age. Probably,
he was the only white negro ever seen in Demerara.
On taking leave of him, I put a dollar into
his hand, for the trouble I had caused him. His
dark eye brightened up, whilst he smiled content-
edly through a set of white teeth; and.as I went
out of the room, he said “‘ God bless you, massa.”

A few years after this, on my return from
England, to the wilds of Guiana, I stopped for
a couple of days in Stabroek, and went to the
house where Jem resided. But, death had claimed
him. He had died, they told me, ‘“ somewhat
suddenly, about nine months ago.”

40 A NEW HISTORY OF

His owner remarked, that poor Jemmys strange
appearance, was much against his mixing with his
brethren, who, at times, would turn him into
ridicule. Had this good lady read the Latin
classics, I would have observed to her,—that, whilst
“alba ligustra cadunt, vaccinia nigra leguntur.”

I have not yet quite done with my remarks
on what travellers say of the orang-outang.

I marvel, that a naturalist so discerning and so
clever as he, whose history of this ape I have
quoted, should have selected his materials from the
reports of some and the writings of others, which
deserve neither credence nor attention. In fact,
their accounts of the orang-outang are manifest
absurdities.

Had I but lent a willing ear to tales of some
whose minds were full of monsters in the wilder-
ness, my readers of the “Wanderings” would
indeed have had reason to condemn my credulity.
I have heard even white men express their firm
belief, that animals exist in the wilds of Guiana,
surpassing those which are spoken of in Ovid's
Metamorphoses.

But travellers in Africa seem to take the lead
in zoological romance. One of these gentlemen of
fabricating talent, or of most extraordinary gullet,
positively asserts, that the apes called pongos,

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 4]

“kill many negroes that travel in the woods.”
st Many times, continues he, “they fall upon the
elephants, which come to feed where they be, and
so beat them with their clubbed fists, and pieces of
wood, that they will run roaring away from them.”

Lamentable blotches on the page of African
zoology! Our author further adds, on the testi-
mony of the same recounter of pongos belabouring
elephants, that “a pongo ape carried off a young
negro, who lived a whole year in the society of
these animals.” Disagreeable society no doubt,
for the poor little human captive! But, pray let
me ask, who cooked its victuals? apes in the
woods, live upon raw vegetable substance, by no
means suited to the taste, or calculated to nourish
one of our own species. Did it get its daily food
at the breast of a pongo wet nurse? Whilst this
poor hapless infant sojourned amongst the apes,
perhaps, it even had not once the luxury of regaling
itself with a handful of unroasted coffee, or with a
scanty slice of raw pork,—luxuries occasionally
abundant in our late Eastern expedition.

Again, our author quotes other travellers who
assure us, that ‘‘the orang-outangs carry off girls of
eight and ten years of age, to the tops of trees ;
and that it is extremely difficult to rescue them.”
Most difficult no doubt ;—can any person, for one

AQ A NEW HISTORY OF |

moment, doubt the difficulty of such a dangerous,
and of such an arduous task? JI don’t know how

I myself, with a young lady in my arms, would be

able to set about it, although I am, just now,
pretty nimble in getting up a tree. Poor hapless
damseis! tedious and disgusting indeed, must have
been your awful journey upwards, whilst in the
arms of a villainous ape! Say, what kind of
a resting: place did ye find “on the tops of the
trees?’ |

Did the knave of a pongo ape, lene you in that
perjlous position aloft, until some. pitying, and

daring brother or cousin of yours, should arrive to

the rescue ? Did your pitas 9 spreading. wees
suffer nothing in the scuffle;? : 3

Furthermore, another , writer maintains, that, in
his voyage to Angola in 1738, he knew a negress
at, Loango, who remained three ain with these
animals! !.

_ Now, a sojourn of hie years, argues that there

must have been, somewhere or other, a permanent
settlement of the pongos. Hoax of unparalleled
impudence in him who fabricated this most impro-
bable story ! | :

The same traveller, in speaking of certain orang-
outangs which he had purchased from a negro,

does not content himself with informing us, that

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 48

these orang-outangs had been instructed by the
negro; but, actually is barefaced enough to state,
that they had performed spontaneously most of.
the feats recited. ‘‘ These animals,” he remarks,
“have the instinct of sitting at table like men.
They eat every kind of food without distinction.
They use a knife, a fork, or a spoon, to cut or.
lay hold of what is put on the plate. They drink
wine and,other liquors. We carried them aboard.
At table, when they wanted anything, they signified
-as much to the cabin boy; and when the boy
refused to give them what they demanded, they
sometimes became enraged, seized him by the arm,
bit, and threw him down.’ Now, mind astonished
reader, most of what has just been stated, was the
effect, of instinct, not of ¢nstruction.

A man, weak enough to put any faith in such
phenomena, and in such palpable exaggerations
of monkey achievements in foreign parts, may
easily be persuaded, that our herons here at home,
do actually thrust their legs through holes at the
bottom of the nests, during the period of incuba-
tion; or, that the flamingo hatches her eggs on a
truncated kind of pyramid nest, with her legs
supporting the body on the outside, somewhat in
imitation of. a little boy astride a barrel. I have

seen, somewhere in print, a representation of this

A4 A NEW HISTORY OF

last-mentioned absurdity; and more than once
have had to argue the point, with certain lovers of
the marvellous in natural history. They maintained
that the legs of these birds were too long to admit
of their being brought up under the body during
incubation ; and my arguers only gave in, by my
shewing them, that a corresponding length of thigh
in the heron and flamingo, allowed these birds to
sit upon their eggs, precisely as tomtits or house-
sparrows would do in propagating their breed.

One traveller writes about apes feeding upon

Beles

“‘erabs, oysters, and other shell fishes.” Did:

these fishes frequent the trees in the forest ?
‘The apes along the banks of the river Gambia, ’

says another, ‘“‘are larger and more mischievous,

than in any other part of Africa: the negroes

dread them, and cannot travel alone in the country,

without running the hazard of being attacked by
these animals, who often present them with a stick
to fight.”

Brave and bountiful apes of Gambia !—your
magnanimity in offering a foe your own tough
club to fight you, puts me in mind of what
really did happen in the island of St. Domingo,
during the French revolutionary war. The Eng-
lish having made an assault, a Spanish officer,
starting from his bed in wild distraction, ran

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 45

unarmed to the walls. There, he met one of
our jack tars, who happened to have a cutlass
in either hand. Jack, seeing by the light of the full
moon that the officer had nothing wherewith to
defend himself, immediately offered him a cutlass.
The Spaniard, subdued by such a noble, and by
such an unexpected act of generosity on the part
of the British tar, dropped on his knees, and
refused to take it. J question whether any ape in
all Gambia could have produced a scene like this.
To be serious,—an act like this argues reason and
reflection, both of which have been denied to the
brute creation, and only given by our Maker to
man,—‘‘ His own image and likeness.”

But let me proceed. “We might dispense,”
another traveller remarks, ‘‘ with seeing a number
of apes at Macacar, because a rencounter with
them is often fatal. It is always necessary to be
well armed to defend ourselves against their
attacks.... They have no tails, and walk always
erect, on their two hind feet like men.”

Our author styles these voyagers, who have given
us such questionable narratives, “‘ the least credu-
lous ;"—-and he adds, that “‘ they deserve most
credit.”

Although I am not prone to take offence, (‘‘ non
ego paucis offendar maculis,’) at occasional inter-

46 A NEW HISTORY OF

vening stains on the pages of natural history;
still, I cannot refrain here, from entering a protest
against such palpable impossibilities as those
which I have just quoted. Had they been current
in Don Quixote’s time, they would certainly have
been burnt in the court yard of that adventurer’s
house, by the curate and the barber, when these
sagacious inspectors committed to the devouring
flames, sundry romances which deserved no better
fate o> |

So much for the supposed reasoning qualities,—
the bravery,—the knavery,—the trickery, and
generosity of apes, which are found in the old
world. Should these narratives of former voyages
be true,—and should modern travellers add a few
more facts to those already recorded, I do not see
why we should not at once acknowledge these
talented wild men of the woods, as members of
our own family, and pronounce them to be human
beings. It would be an interesting sight to see
them going hand in hand with us, through the
meandering walks of civilised life. How delighted
I should be, to observe our Prime Minister walking
soberly along the streets of London, towards the
House of Commons, on important business, in
company with an old strapping ape from the far
distant wilds of Sumatra! ‘nil mortalibus arduum

72

est.

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 47

If we cross the Atlantic Ocean to the new
world, we shall find no apes there, as I have
already stated. But, we shall fall in with a
monkey or two, if we can believe the tales of
travellers, still more highly gifted by nature; and
even surpassing in useful acquirements, every ape
as yet discovered in the extensive tropical regions
of the old continent. |

A traveller in Southern America relates, that
every morning and evening, the monkeys named
ouarines, assemble in the woods; that one of them
takes an elevated station, and gives a signal with
his hand, for the others. to sit- around and listen
to him. That, when he perceives them to be all
seated, he begins a discourse in a tone so loud
and rapid, as to be heard at a great distance. And
a person would be led to think, that the whole
were crying together ;—that all the rest, however,
keep the most profound silence ;—that, when he
stops, he gives a signal which they obey in a
moment ;—that, the first resumes his discourse or
song ;—and that, after hearing him attentively for
a considerable time, the assembly breaks up.

This precious morsel of monkey-preaching seems
to have been too bulky for our author to swallow ;
so he remarks, “that, perhaps these facts may
be exaggerated, and seasoned a little with the

48 A NEW HISTORY OF

marvellous.” Still, the explorer himself assures
us, that he has often witnessed these facts.

Now, it has so happened, that, I have studied
attentively, the habits of the monkeys called
ouarines. The story of their preaching in concert,
is an idle fabrication ; and it has probably given
rise to these monkeys being termed howlers or
preachers. They commonly go by thé name of
red monkeys in Demerara.

The preaching part of their history is as follows.

I take it from my “ Wanderings.”
“Nothing can sound more dreadful than the
nocturnal howlings of this red monkey. Whilst

lying in your hammock amid these gloomy and

immeasurable wilds, you hear him howling at
imtervals, from eleven o'clock at night till day-
break. You would suppose, that half the wild
beasts of the forest, were collecting for the work of
varnage. Now, it is the tremendous roar of the
jaguar, as he springs upon his prey :—now, it
changes to his terrible and deep-toned growlings,
as he is pressed on all sides by superior force; and
now you hear his last dying groan beneath a
mortal wound.”

Some naturalists have supposed that these awful
sounds, which you would fancy are those of enraged

and dying wild beasts, proceed from a number —

of red monkeys howling in concert.

?

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 49

One of them alone is capable of producing all
these sounds; and the anatomists, on an inspection
of his trachea, will be fully satisfied that this is the
case. When you look at him, as he js sitting
on the branch of a tree, you will see a lump in his
throat, the size of a hen’s egg. In dark and
cloudy weather, and just before a shower of rain,
this monkey will often howl in the day-time; and
if you advance cautiously, and get under the
high and tufted trees where he is sitting, you may
have a capital opportunity of witnessing his won-
derful powers of producing these dreadful and
discordant sounds.

Thus, one single solitary monkey, in lieu of
having “others to sit down and listen to him,”
according to the report of travellers, has not even —
one attendant. Once I was fortunate enough to
smuggle myself under the very tree, on the higher
branches of which was perched a full-grown red
monkey. I saw his huge mouth wide open :—I saw
the protuberance on his inflated throat; and I listen-
ed with extreme astonishment to sounds which
- might have had their origin in the infernal regions.

Another traveller who also is quoted by our
author, says, that these ouarine monkeys, threw
dried branches of the trees at him; and so far
forgot themselves, that they “ voided their excre-

H

50 A NEW HISTORY OF

ments in their hands, and then threw them at his
head.” |
It is difficult to comprehend how this expert
traveller managed to approach so near to these
wary animals, with no intervening object betwixt
himself and them, so that they could have a
distinct view of him, and take their aim accord-
megly.

Still, by far, the most extraordinary feat of
Western monkeys, remains yet to be told. But, I
can fancy, courteous reader, that thy patience is
nearly exhausted. One dose more; though it
be much stronger than any I have as yet offered to
thy gullet. ‘‘ Majus parabo, majus infundam tibi_
fastidienti poculum.”

We are gravely told, that certain transatlantic
monkeys are adepts in the healing art. “‘ What is —
singular, as soon as one is wounded, the rest collect |
about him, and put their fingers into the wound, as
if they meant to sound it; and when much blood
is discharged, some of them keep the wound shut,
whilst others make a mash of leaves, and dexter-
ously stop up the aperture.” “This operation,’
continues the traveller, ““I have often observed
with admiration.”

By the shade of Hippocrates, these monkey-
surgeons puzzle me outright. Nevertheless, our

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 5]

narrator saw the monkeys perform the operation ;
and it were discourteous in me to doubt his word.
Wherefore, I will content myself by simply remark-
ing, that I believe, that he believed, that, which in
reality cannot be believed.

I have now done with quotations, the contents of
which, neither increase my estimation of monkey-
ingenuity, nor tend to give me a favorable opinion
of the discernment of those authors from whose
works I have extracted them.

They may possibly serve to put the over credulous
lover of natural history on his guard. ‘Tis said
that the schoolmaster is now abroad. I am glad of
it. Heis much wanted in the province of natural
history, both in the old and in the new world.

Ere I proceed in my investigation of the mon-
key family as it roves through its own native wilds,
I will stop a moment or two here, and cast my
eye on certain individuals, whose destiny has placed
them under the imperative power of civilized man.

But let it not be imagined that my description
of them, is to be considered as any way trenching
on their original habits; or conceding to them
certain faculties which nature herself never intend-
ed that they should possess. What they have
learned in captivity, has been adventitious alto-

gether, and seems only to be of real use to. us,
13 G4

on A NEW HISTORY OF

on one particular point, namely, it gives us an
opportunity of examining the disposition of the
captive. :

Thus, by having removed the tiger from his
jungle, we perceive, that, his temper, although
flexible under the hand of tuition, cannot entirely
be depended upon ; for sooner or later, when least
suspected, he will spring upon his keeper, and
punish him with death.

On the contrary, amongst the numerous tribes
of monkeys, we find one which is docile in the
extreme, and will never be outrageous, if only
treated with kindness and generosity :—but, like
ourselves, it 1s capable of recollecting injuries or
insults ; and it will sometimes resent them, should
a favourable opportunity occur. This species of
monkey is the ape of the old world. Whether
it be the smaller one named chimpanzee, or the
larger, commonly called orang-outang, alias, the
wild man of the woods, it repays us in some
degree, for the instructions which we impart to it.
Gentle in the extreme, kind to the hand that feeds
it, and imitative of its instructor, it would perform
feats that would almost seem to place it, in
occasional instances, with man himself :—although,
at the same time, it cannot help letting out the
secret, that, in intellect, it is as far from the noble

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 53

Lord of created beings, as can possibly be ima-
gined ; and that, in fact, it can have no claim to
any rank above that of the raven, the dog, and
the elephant.
_ With this then in view, that apes are mimics of
no ordinary character, but nothing more, I will
proceed with my original attempt to investigate the
real habits of the monkey family at large.

It has been my good fortune, here in England,
to have made acquaintance with three different
species of apes from their own warm regions in
the tropics; two of which are now in high preser-
vation at Walton Hall.

Lhe first is a female of the smaller kind with
a black fur, and called the chimpanzee. It was
exhibited at Scarbro’, in the well-known collection
of Mr. George Wombwell, nephew to the late
Mr. Wombwell, who was so celebrated for his
management of wild beasts from all parts of the
world. I soon perceived that its lungs were
injured, and that its life was coming fast to a close.

When Mr. G. Wombwell had exhibited his
splendid menagerie for a sufficient length of time
at Scarbro’,, he conducted it to Wakefield, whither
I had written the day before, to my friends who are
fond of natural history, and urged them to lose
no time in paying a visit to the little chimpanzee,
as its health was visibly on the decline.

54. A NEW HISTORY OF

TI left Scarbro’ soon after, and on the very day on

which I went to Wakefield, the poor little African
stranger was lying dead in the apartment which
it had occupied.

Mr. Wombwell begged that I would accept it.
I did so:—but, as he had already sent word to
Huddersfield, that his chimpanzee would be shewn
there, so soon as he had made a sufficient sojourn
in Wakefield ; I suggested the idea, that, although
his poor ape was dead, he would do well to take
it with him, in order that the public of Hudders-
field, might be gratified in having an opportunity
to Inspect so singular an animal, so rarely seen
in this country. I added, that it might be for-
warded to me when he had no more use for it, as
the frosty state of the weather was all in its favour.

The man whom he commissioned to bring it
to me, had a cousin in Leeds, a fiddler and a
soldier by profession. So in lieu of coming straight
to Walton Hall, the fellow took off to Leeds,
quite out of the direct line, in order to enjoy the
company of his cousin the musician, and to hear
him talk of battles lost, and others won.

They both got drunk the first evening, as the man
who had taken charge of the dead ape, afterwards
confessed to me, when I questioned him concerning
his non: appearance at the time appointed. But

THE MONKEY FAMILY. Dd

my disappointment did not end there ;—for, instead
of pursuing his journey on the morrow, this
unthinking porter passed another day of mirth and
mental excitement with his loving relative; and
then, another day after that. So, alas, the chim-
panzee only reached me, late on Saturday evening,
notwithstanding that [I had expected it on the
Wednesday. ‘This provoking loss of time cost me
full five hours of nocturnal labour with the dissect-
ing knife.

After seven weeks of application, I succeeded
in restoring its form and features. Hollow to the
very nails, it now sits upon a cocoa-nut, (not by the
way, its correct position) which I brought with me
from Guiana, in the year 1817. Unless accident
destroy this ape, (as it has been totally immersed
in a solution of corrosive sublimate and alcohol,
see the “ Wanderings”) it will remain for ages
yet to come, free from mould, and from the
depredations of the moth; and without any wires,
or any internal support whatever, it will retain the
_ form which I have given to it, and the exact
position in which it has been placed at Walton
Hall, where it has many attractions for scientific
visitors.

Of all apes as yet discovered, this little chim-
panzee appears to approach the nearest to man

56 A NEW HISTORY OF

in form and feature. In fact, it might compete
with some of the negro family, for the prize of
beauty. But, still it cannot speak !—No—not one
single solitary word can it utter, in accordance with
those produced by the human voice. In this parti-
cular, several of the birds may take precedence
of it. The raven, starling, jackdaw, jay and
magpie can learn to say, “how do you do? “—
““T cant get out, no’ DL cant get ont; said) the
poor captive starling. Quadrupeds seem not to
have this privilege. Balaam’s ass to be sure, once.
spoke a few words, but those were miraculous.
And again, Leibnitz mentions a dog that could
articulate thirty words: still, as the Spanish pro-
verb informs us,—one swallow does not make
summer :—“ una golondrina no hace verano.’

In sight, scent, and agility amongst the trees,
we may allow the ape to claim superiority over
man. In other qualities, it 1s inferior to him.
After man, it may possibly hold the first place in
the graduated scale of animated nature; and this,
methinks, is all that ought to be granted to any
individual of the monkey family.

The second living ape which has come under my
inspection, is the great red orang-outang from the
island of Borneo. I went up to London, expressly
to see it at the Zoological Gardens which are under

THE MONKEY FAMILY. Oy

_ the superintendence of Mr. Mitchell, a gentleman
so well known for his talents in office, and for his
courtesy to visitors. Most amply indeed, was I
repaid for the trouble I had taken.

‘The orang-outang was of wrinkled, and of
melancholy aspect, entirely devoid of any feature
bordering on ferocity. As I gazed through the
bars of his clean and spacious apartment, I
instantly called to my recollection, Sterne’s affecting
description of his captive, who was confined for
life, and was sitting on the ground, “upon a little
straw, and was lifting up a hopeless eye to the
door!”

_ The more I inspected this shaggy prisoner from

Borneo, the more I felt convinced, that, in its own
nature, it could lay no manner of claim to the
most remote alliance with the human race, saving
in a faint appearance of form, and in nothing more.
The winding up of the interview which I had with
it, confirmed me firmly in the opinion which I had
long entertained of his entire family.

Having observed his mild demeanour, and his
placid countenance, I felt satisfied, that if ever the
animal had been subject to paroxysms of anger
when free in its native woods, those paroxysms
had been effectually subdued, since it had become
a captive under the dominion of civilized man.

58 A NEW HISTORY OF

Acting under this impression, I asked permission
to enter the apartment in which it was confined ;
and permission was immediately granted es a
keeper in attendance.

As I approached the orang-outang, he met me
about half way, and we soon entered into an
examination of each others persons. Nothing
struck me more forcibly than the uncommon
softness of the inside of his hands. Those of a
delicate lady, could not have shewn a finer texture.
He took hold of my wrist and fingered the blue

veins therein contained ; whilst I myself was lost

in admiration at the protuberance of his enormous
mouth. He most obligingly let me open it, and
thus, I had the best opportunity of examining his
two fine rows of teeth.

We then placed our hands around each other's
necks ; and we kept them there awhile, as though
we had really been excited by an impulse of
fraternal affection. It were loss of time in me,
were I to pen down an account of the many
gambols which took place betwixt us, and I might
draw too much upon the reader's patience. Sufiice
it then to say, that the surrounding spectators
seemed wonderfully amused at the solemn farce,
before them.

Whilst it was going on, I could not help

ies

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 59

remarking that the sunken eye of the orang-outang,
every now and then, was fixed on something
outside of the apartment. J remarked this to the
keeper, who was standing in the crowd at a short
distance. He pointed to a young stripling of a
coxcomb. “That dandy,’ said he, “has been
teasing the orang-outang a little while ago; and
I would not answer for the consequence could the
animal have an opportunity of springing at him.”

This great ape from Borneo, exhibited a kind
and gentle demeanour, and he appeared pleased
with my familiarity.

Having fully satisfied myself, how completely
the natural propensities of a wild animal from the
forest, may be mollified, and ultimately subdued by
art, and by gentleness on the part of rational man,
I took my leave of this interesting prisoner,
scraping and bowing, with affected gravity as I
retired from his apartment.

Up to this time, our ape had shewn a suavity of
manners, and a continued decorum truly astonishing
in any individual of his family: I say of his
family: because in days now long gone by, when
our intercourse with Africa was much more frequent
than it is at present, 1 have known apes, baboons
and monkeys brought over from Guinea to Guiana,
notorious for their forbidding and outrageous

EO A NEW HISTORY OF.

habits. This orang-outang however, by his affabi-
lity and correctness, appeared to make amends for
the sins of his brethren. ‘‘ Nature seemed to have
done with her resentments in him ;” and I bade him
farewell, impressed with the notion, that he was a
model of perfection, which might be imitated with
advantage even by some of our own species.

But, alas, I was most egregiously deceived in
the good opinion which I had entertained of him;
for scarcely had I retired half a dozen paces from
the late scene of action, when an affair occurred
which beggars all description. In truth, I cannot
describe it: I dont know how to describe it: my
pen refuses to describe it. I can only give an
outline, and leave the rest to be imagined.

This interesting son of Borneo, advanced with
slow and solemn gravity to the bars of his prison,
and took a position exactly in front of the assem-
bled spectators. The ground upon which he stood
was dry; but, immediately it became a pool of
water, by no means from a pure source. Ladies
blushed and hid their faces ;—whilst gentlemen
laughed outright.

I was scandalized beyond measure, at this
manifest want of good breeding on the part of
this shaggy gentleman from the forests of Borneo.
He confirmed for ever, my early opinion, that,

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 61

although apes naturally possess uncommon powers
of mimicry ;—and that, these powers can be
improved to a surprising degree, under the tute-
lary hand of man ;—nevertheless, neither time, nor
teaching, nor treatment, can ever raise apes even to
the shadow of an equality with the intellect of
rational man. All monkeys are infinitely below
us: aye infinitely indeed. Rude, shameless, and
uncalculating beasts they are, and beasts they
will remain to the very end of time; unless some
unforeseen catastrophe, ordered by an all-wise
Providence, should root out their whole race from
the face of the earth; as we imagine has already
been done with those ante-diluvian animals, the
fossil remains of which, have been so scientifically
lectured upon, and so cleverly pourtrayed by the
master-hand of Mr. Waterhouse Hawkins.

Would that he had continued his representations
of them, in the beautiful gardens of the Crystal
Palace. But, ‘tis said, that we are to have no
more. Possibly, some random blow in the dark,
from the hand of modern Vandalism, may have
smitten the rising plant, and scathed its opening
bud. |

To me, an inspection of these ante-diluvian
inhabitants of earth and sea, is always a treat of
the first order; and it is more agreeable to my

62 A NEW HISTORY OF

intellectual palate, than any other scientific food,
contained in that vast enclosure of art and science.
My last visit to the far-famed temple at niin aine
was wholly spent amongst them.

But, let me return to my monkey family. I
trust, that my readers are, by this time, pretty well
convinced, that, the wild elephants of the forest,
have never had any particular reason to fear a
bastinado from the clubs of apes; nor young black
ladies, to be under the apprehension of abduction
by them, up to the tops of the trees.

A third ape which has come under my immediate
inspection is a young brown chimpanzee, in the
Royal Menagerie of Mrs. Wombwell. It was
captured on the bank of the river Congo, in
Africa.

Whilst I was at Scarbro’ during the autumn of
1855, this ape made its appearance there; and
before I left this celebrated watering place, I wrote
the following notice of it, in the Scarbro’ Gazette.

“ Africa sends us, from time to time, many
of her choice productions,—some of which are
astonishing in their propensities,—others of une-
qualled beauty,—and others again of a structure
which may give ample scope to the most specu-
lative mind of man.

“ Amongst these, is the chimpanzee, upon which
I am about to make a few remarks.

tee

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 63

_“ Apes, hitherto introduced into England, have
walked on the ground, apparently with comparative
ease to themselves, so far, as the bearings or
irregularities of the ground would permit. But,
this chimpanzee is a decided exception. He who
contemplates it when in motion on the ground,
will at once perceive, that the knuckle of the
fingers alone comes in contact with the floor.
This position must obviously give it pain, Let me
here remark, that it is not the natural position of
the animal ; but, that, captivity has forced it into
an attitude so unsuited to it.

“If we wish to contemplate this gentle ape, roving
in uncontrolled freedom, we must go in imagination
to the far-spreading forests of Africa.

“There, mounted aloft on the trees, and making
use of what are usually called its forefeet, by way
of hands, (and which, in fact, are hands,) it will
pass from branch to branch with wonderful agility :
and when its hour of frolic has gone by, the
chimpanzee will rest on a branch, bolt upright ;
no part of its body coming in contact with the
tree, except the soles of its hind feet, usually so
called,—they being most admirably constructed to
support it in this attitude.

“Thus placed, its abdomen of enormous dimen-
sions, considering the diminutive stature of the

64 A NEW HISTORY OF

animal, will be at rest, whilst the arms are folded
on the breast, or moved in playful gambols, or
occupied in scratching the body, or in nopAy ne
food to the mouth.

“Although the room in which this ape was
shewn, seemed small and very unaccommodating
to a climbing animal, still our young chimpanzee
managed to thread its way up and down the
surrounding furniture; and on its reaching me
it climbed up to my neck, where it found a
comfortable resting place.

“When I had approached sufficiently near to the
window, so that, the chimpanzee could profit by
the movement, it would lay hold of the projecting
parts, and then pass onwards: looking for a ledge ~
or shelf to help it in its ‘transit. But when we
placed it on the floor again, it seemed distressed,—
the countenance underwent a change, and we could
not doubt of its discontentment. Miss Blight,
who is governess to this wild little woman of the
woods, has given her the name of Jenny, and has —
observed, that her pet 1s very fond of celery; a
piece of which, Miss Blight, in our presence, held
out to her, from the opposite side of the room:
first, having cleared the floor, for Jenny to pass
over.

‘Bending forwards, in the attitude of an old

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 65

woman, who uses two sticks, in order to support
her tottering frame, Jenny moved slowly, and to
all appearance, painfully across the floor, with her
hands clenched. On seizing the sprig of celery,
she took a sitting position with remarkable compo-
sure: and her hands being now, no longer in
restraint, nor in an artificial posture on the floor,
she made use of them, just as we ourselves would
use our hands and arms.

‘Through the kindness of Mrs. Wombwell, and the
courtesy of Miss Blight, I was enabled to pay four
long visits to this harmless and amusing young crea-
ture, lately kidnapped in the sunny regions of Africa.

“When I looked at it, whilst it stayed on the
floor,—I was perfectly satisfied in my own mind,
that it had never been formed by nature, to walk
on the soles of its feet, or hands, properly so called.
In its own native regions, if we may judge, by the
peculiar formation of its limbs, the whole of its
life must be passed amid the ever verdant trees
of the forest.

“Jenny has no appearance whatever of a tail,
for she is a veritable ape. Her skin is as black as
a sloe in the hedge, whilst her fur appears curly
and brown. Her eyes are beautiful; but there
is no white in them; and her ears are as small
in proportion, as those of a negress.

66 A NEW HISTORY OF

‘Whilst apes in general, saving one, have little
more than two apertures by way of nose—Jenny
has a large protuberance there. It is flattened;
and one might suppose, that some officious mid-
wife had pressed it down with her finger and
thumb, at the hour of Jenny's birth.

“When kindly treated, Jenny is all gentleness.
Still, I fancied that I could perceive at intervals, a
slight tinge of mischief in her temper ;—for there
was a pretty little dog in the same room with her ;
and whenever she could get hold of it, she would
fix her teeth in it, until it yelped aloud.

‘LT happened to be amongst the crowd of spec-
tators outside of Jenny's little apartment (for she
was not exhibited with the other wild beasts) when
she made her final appearance before the liberal
inhabitants of Scarbro.’

‘‘ Having mounted the steps which led up to the
room, in order that I might take my leave of her,
Jenny put her arms round my neck; she “looked
wistfully at me,” and then we both exchanged soft
kisses, to the evident surprise and amusement of
all the lookers on.

‘‘ Farewell,—poor little prisoner,’ said I. “I
fear that this cold and gloomy atmosphere of ours,
will tend to shorten thy days.” Jenny shook her
head, seemingly to say, there is nothing here to suit

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 67

me. ‘The little room is far too hot; the clothes
which they force me to wear, are quite insupport-
able; whilst the food which they give me, is not
like that upon which I used to feed, when I was
healthy and free in my own native woods. With
this we parted :—probably for ever.

‘* Should little Jenny cease to live, and should her
remains reach Walton Hall, I assured Miss Blight,
that I would spare no pains to make her cherished
favourite appear, for ages yet to come, as though
the cruel hand of death had never laid it low.”

The reader will perhaps be grieved to learn, that,
poor Jennys death was nearer than I had antici-
pated. She journeyed on, from place to place, in
Mrs. Wombwell’s fine menagerie of wild animals,
till they reached the town of Warrington, in Lan-
cashire. There, without any previous symptoms
of decay, Jenny fell sick and breathed her last.

Miss Blight wrapped her up in linen by way of
winding sheet ; put her in a little trunk, and kindly
forwarded her to Walton Hall, at the close of
February, in the year 1856.

Here, I will make a pause in my comments on
the monkey tribe, whether the individuals of it,
be captives on the circumscribed domain of man,
or whether they be roving aloft in the never ending
forests of the torrid zone.

Bie

68 A NEW HISTORY OF

In the interval, I will take a transient glance at
other sections of animated nature. And this will
be a preparatory step, as it were, to my fixing
every member of the monkey family, in that well
defined locality, which their form, their habits, and
their appetites, plainly indicate that they should
occupy.

Food, security, and propagation of the species,
form the three predominant propensities in the
brute creation. There is not a known animal which
does not occupy a situation exactly suited to its
natural habits. But, in the revolution, or the
unfavorableness of seasons, should that situation
deny to the individual which frequents it, a proper
supply of support, and a sufficient command of
safety, then it goes away, m quest of another,
more favourable to its wants.

For example, millions of wild fowl migrate from
the northern to the more southern regions of our
hemisphere, when ‘“‘ winter comes to rule the varied
year, sullen and sad.” ‘Their food has failed.
Again our magpies, rooks, jays, ringdoves, and
pheasants, never fail in autumn, to-frequent the
oak trees in quest of acorns. But, when these
have disappeared, then, imstinct directs the same
birds to labour elsewhere on the ground for their
daily food;—and they are seen no more on the

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 69

oak trees in quest of acorns, until returning
autumn furnishes a fresh supply.

The feet of these birds, enable them to perch on
the branches; and their wings to transport them-
selves to and fro, as occasion may require.

Although our own squirrel lives ever in the trees,
all its four feet are perfectly formed, and quite
adapted to support it on the ground; so that, when
the wintry winds have deprived the trees of their
wonted foliage, and also of the fruit which they
bear, this active little fellow, enjoying no longer, |
either shelter or support from them, betakes him-
self to the ground, over which, he can bound
to any distance, until he finds wherewith to satisfy
his wants, amongst trees which retain their verdure
the year throughout.

Thus we see, that, Eternal wisdom has placed its
creatures in situations adapted to their nature; and
if anything should prove deficient, we may be quite
sure, that the deficiency has been caused by the
arrangements of man, or by the change of seasons,
or by some accidental occurrences which occasion-
ally take place.

I may add, that notwithstanding what some
naturalists have written to the contrary, every
portion of an animal's body is adapted to its
journey through life, be that life of very short

70 A NEW HISTORY OF

duration, as in some insects, or be it prolonged
to a great extent,—witness our raven, whose life is
said to exceed a hundred years.

What could the ant-bear do without its tremen-
dous claws, and cylinder-shaped snout, so tough
as to enable it to perforate huge nests of ants,
which, in certain districts of Southern America,
appear more like the roofs of Chinese temples,
than the work and habitations of insignificant
little insects ?

Still, I have heard the remark, that, the long
visage of this most singular quadruped is out of
proportion, and unsightly :—whereas, I consider
it to be quite in unison with the rest of the body,
and admirably adapted to the support of life.

Look again at the vampire !—place it on the
eround, and immediately its extraordinary formation
appears to be nearly useless to it. A hook, in lieu
of hands and nails, enables it to attach itself to the
tree in perfect ease and safety ; and by other hooks
which emanate from where the feet obtain in other
animals, it hangs body downwards whilst it takes
its rest ;—though, singular to say, the head itself
is always turned upwards on its reversed chest. A
truly astonishing position indeed '—never noticed,
I suspect, in any tribe of the larger animals, saving
that of the bat.

ic
a eRe *)
oh: ae

THE MONKEY FAMILY. Ta

The air is the only region of exercise for this
singular family ;—and when it is at rest, it is found
in the hollow of a tree, or in the hole of a wall, or
in the thatch of a hut, or cottage.

It must, by no means, come in contact with the
ground. It would perish there. A bat on the
ground would be quite as badly off, as a fish out of
the water, or as some unfortunate man in chancery.

The swift too, amongst the birds, has nothing
whatever to do with the ground, on account of the
formation of its feet and legs. As all its four toes
point forwards, it would be very difficult, nay,
almost impossible for this bird to maintain a firm
hold on the branch of a tree. Pray, who has ever
seen a swift sitting or standing upon a tree?
Such a sight, indeed, would be a phenomenon of
no ordinary kind, even in this our own age of
stupendous marvels.

On wing, it spends the live-long day ;—on wing,
it captures food ;—and on wing it seizes feathers
floating in the air, and takes them to its nest,
for the purpose of incubation; and when night
sets im, it retires to rest in the holes of towers,
and under the eaves of houses, but never on the
branches of the trees.

In addition to the remarks which I formerly
made in the “ Wanderings” on the habits of the

«
>

de A NEW HISTORY OF

sloth, I could wish to introduce a few more here,
concerning this solitary inhabitant of the tropical
forests; because the sloth never comes to the
ground, except by pure accident ;-and its habits
will serve to corroborate the remarks which I am
about to make, on the nature and the formation
of monkeys.

These remarks will not be long.

We often complain of libels by man against man
in civilized life; but, if ever a poor creature's
character was torn in pieces by inconsiderate and
ignorant assailants, certainly the sloth has great
cause to vent its complaints of ill-treatment.

Anatomists in Europe, and travellers abroad,
when writing on the formation and on the habits of
the sloth, seem only to have added blunder to
blunder; as though they had been wandering
in the dark, without a ray of light to shew them
the path which they ought to have pursued.

A bare inspection of the limbs of the sloth,
ought to have enabled inspectors to assert posi-
tively, that this animal was never modelled by the
hand of our all-wise Creator, to walk upon the
ground.

Notwithstanding this, one author remarks, that
“from a defect in the structure of the sloths, the
misery of these animals, is not more conspicuous
than their slowness.”

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 73

Again, “to regard these bungled sketches as
beings equally perfect with others; to call in the
aid of final causes to account for such dispropor-
tioned productions; and to make nature as brilliant
in these, as in her most beautiful animals, is to
view her through a narrow tube, and to substitute
our own fancies for her intentions.”

And again, “in fine, when the pressure of hun-
ger becomes superior to the dread of danger, or
death, being unable to descend,’ (why so?) “ they
allow themselves to tumble down, like an iman-
imate mass:—for their stiff and inactive limbs
have not time to extend themselves in order to
break the fall.”

Had the author of the passages just quoted,
been with me in the forests of Guiana, his opinion
of the sloth, would have been diametrically opposed
to that which he has so erroneously entertained,
and so rashly committed to paper.

Believe me, gentle reader, good dame nature has
never doomed a child of hers to such a sorry
task as this, of falling wilfully from a tree through
the pressure of hunger. No such thing.

Long ago, I shewed in the ‘‘ Wanderings,” that
the sloth is amply provided by its formation, with
everything requisite for the preservation of health
and life, in the arboreal regions where Providence
has ordered it to roam.

74 A NEW HISTORY OF

Far from stripping an entire tree of its leaves, in
order to satisfy the calls of hunger, I know by
actual observation, that the sloth merely takes a
mouthful or two of the foliage at a time, and then
moves onwards. Its falling from the tree, “like

2

an inanimate mass” is an imaginary speculation,
fit for the nursery fireside on a winter's evening.

Fancy to yourself, a sloth falling souse to the
ground, from some lofty tree in the forest. If not
killed on the spot, most assuredly, it would be
in no trim to pursue its journey in quest of food.
A surgeon, or a nurse with a poultice, would be
required immediately :—but, alas, as I know too
well, these articles are not to be met with in the
far distant and immeasurable wilds where the sloth
takes up its abode.

Let us hope that future writers, on the form and
economy of animals, will pause, and pause again,
before they send their labours to the press.

‘‘ Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.”’

Whenever we inspect an animal, the formation of
which, puts us at defiance, we must not rely solely
upon conjecture. We may rest quite assured, that
every animal is perfect as far as regards the situa-
tion in which it has been placed by nature, and
the economy which it is destined to practice.

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 75

The outlines of its supposed “‘ bungled conform-
ation,’ may always be attributed to the fallacy of
our Own misconceptions, and not to the ever faithful
hand of the Creator. ,

A trifle more, on the habits of certain animals,
which, when left to their own resources, know
exactly where to find their necessary food.

Many animals have a very confined range; the
human louse to wit. Others have an unbounded
one :—for example—a travelling tom cat. Some
animals may inhabit only certain parts of a
country, as a Bengal tiger. Others again, are
positive cosmopolites, as in the case with the Han-
overian rat. Other animals are known to thrive in
one locality, and to perish in another, aithough
both localities appear pretty near the same to us
shortsighted mortals.

Thus, about eight years ago, I had occasion
to dissect an old turkey cock, of the wild American
breed. It swarmed with lice to an inconceivable
extent. Whilst I was engaged in the dissection,
lots of these gallinaceous lice found their way on to
my own body. I knew full well, that they had got
into a wrong box, and that they would not keep
company with me for any length of time. So I let
them have their own way, and I gave myself little
or no trouble about them. In less than four and

76 A NEW HISTORY OF

twenty hours, every louse of them had either died
or dropped off ;—proof sufficient, that their change
of locality had been fatal to them; and that a
turkeys louse is not intended by nature to thrive,

or to exist on the person of human beings. |

Now, on the other hand, we hear of animals,
so constructed, and of such a pliable temperament,
that neither change of food, nor of climate appear
to have any deteriorating effect upon them. I may
here introduce the Hanoverian or Norway rat, as
a genuine and undoubted specimen. It can thrive
amazingly, either in the pig-stye or in the palace.
I have known it to gnaw away the protruding angle
of one of our old blue and red burnt bricks,
(nearly as hard as iron itself,) which happened
to be in the way of a proposed run ;—and I have
at times, observed it in localities apparently inac-
cessible to things of flesh and blood. Add to this,
it can swim like a fish.

We have a phenomenon here just now, that
really ought to be recorded, notwithstanding my
repugnance to this greedy little beast.

Almost every part of the country, teems with
Hanoverian rats; and we read in the newspapers,
that a similar plague has appeared in some parts
of France. This rat as everybody well knows,
maintains itself on plunder. No prog,—no Hano-

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 7

verian. “Point d’argent,—point de Suisse,” as
the old French saying has it. Luckily for me,

these audacious theives can no longer enter my
house nor the out-buildings ;—so effectually have I
barred their entrance into these important places.

But, they have punished me awfully in other
parts. They have rooted up and eaten all the
crocus bulbs, stormed the potatoe-pies and fleeced
the celery.

The gardener came to me in a white passion,
and he informed me, that ‘‘ them rattens” had
totally demolished every early pea, which he had
cherished with such care. I tried to pacify him,
by observing, that sometimes such misfortunes
will happen, in the best regulated families, take
what pains we choose, to protect our goods.
“Them rattens are a hungry race, George,” said
I, “and I don't know what we can do, because
they are our masters. A winter in Nova Zembla,
or a summer in the tropics is all one to them.
Hanoverians will fatten on fish in Iceland, and
luxuriate amid carrion, in the burning plains of
tropical America. The cellar and the garret are

all one to them, provided prog be within reach.”

Once when I was studying poetry at college,
I attempted to celebrate in verse, the arrival of

“them rattens” in our country. The song began

thus:

78 A NEW HISTORY OF

When want and misery ran over,

The worn-out soil of far Hanover,

Guelph took his stick, and put his hat on,

Came straight to England’s shore to fatten,
And brought with him his half-starved ratten, &c.

I have introduced the foregoing little episodes,
if I may call them so, and adduced the different
localities of different species of animals, in order
to prepare the reader for the well-defined, and
the indubitable range, in which I am about to
locate the entire monkey family, great and small
on both continents. I say, locate, because I feel
quite sure, that this numerous family, has one
particular range allotted to it, and no other ;—just
as the land has been given to ourselves—and the
sea to fishes.

Moreover, this family, has never yet strayed
out of the range which it now enjoys;—and
that no occurrence will ever force it to abandon this
range, until time shall be no more.

If the reader should expect to find in the sequel
of this treatise, a minute description of each class
of monkeys, together with their divisions and their
sub-divisions: and also a lengthy catalogue of
modern names, the very sound of which would
startle a bat in its winter cave, I hasten to unde-

ceive hin.

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 79

Still, if I could be convinced, that such a detail
would be necessary or instructive to the general
reader, I fancy, that I could succeed in demon-
strating to a nicety, the exact difference in length,
breadth, and thickness of an orang-outang’s great
toe nail, compared with that of the Senegal baboon.
But this refined section of descriptive natural
history, has never been much to my liking; and I
willingly make it over to those scientific gentlemen
who fancy that there is as much real knowledge to
be found in the closet as in the field.

But before I enter, once for all, into the subject
as far as regards the true locality of monkeys, I
must draw a little longer on the patient reader's
time, and ask him to join me in taking an imagi-
nary view of this our terrestrial globe; and to keep
in remembrance, particularly that portion of it,
where I have long been convinced, in my own
mind, that the entire monkey family is to be
found ; and to be found nowhere else, throughout
the whole world, saving on the rock of Gibraltar,
already noticed at the commencement of this
treatise.

Ovid, pleasing and instructive poet, has beau-
_tifully described the geographical sections of our
planet. He tells us, that two of these are in
everlasting snow. ‘Two afford a temperate climate,

80 A NEW HISTORY OF

whilst a fifth lying betwixt these, and occupying a
space of twenty-three degrees and a half, on each
side of the equator, is wonderfully warm and
fertile; and it goes by the name of the torrid zone.

He who ventures into the dreary regions of
frost and snow, should he be a naturalist, will see,
that no animal can remain there with impunity,
when food becomes deficient. Away, the famished
creature goes elsewhere, in search of fresh supplies.
It is then, that, undeviating instinct acts her part,
and unerringly shews the tract which must be
followed; whether through the yielding air; or in
the briny wave; or on the solid ground.

Thus, when “Boreas, blustering railer,’ an-
nounces the approach of winter, we find that
shoals of fish glide regularly to the south, and
flocks on flocks of migratory wild fowl forsake
their cold abode ; whilst the quadrupeds, with here
and there, a solitary exception, all turn their faces
to the south, and leave the roaring storms behind
them.

But man, by having been endowed with reason,
can carry food, and make his shelter, whichever
way he bends his steps; braving the howling
blast.

Still, with every possible precaution, an awful
death may sometimes be his lot. Thus, Sir John

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 8S]

Franklin and his brave companions, after enduring
more than can well be conceived, sank to the
sround, each a “stiffened corse, stretched out, and
bleaching in the northern blast.” Poor noble
rovers, lost alas, for the ends of science !—after all,
the benefit of a north-west passage, is but a thing
of emptiness.

Leaving the frozen zones, we enter the two
temperate ones, which have equally with the frozen
zones, their millions of creatures both to shelter
and to feed.

Still, even many of these, in certain localities,
are obliged to take their departure in autumn, to
reap the benefit of a warmer sun. Our birds of
passage so called, although apparently quite at
ease amongst us, suddenly leave Europe for six
months in the year, wending their way to Asia and
to Africa.

In a word, the man who spends his time in
nature's field, will have innumerable facts to show,
that, food and shelter, as I have already observed,
are the two main inducements which instigate
animated nature to make its periodical movements ;
or, to remain, altogether in one locality, should
food and shelter be at their command.

We now come to the torrid zone, which may be
aptly denominated the paradise of monkeys.

K

82 A NEW HISTORY OF

Although the regions in the temperate zones are
open to this active tribe of animals, (I will no
longer style them quadrupeds) still it seems that
nothing has induced it to migrate from its own
native and enchanting territory ;—a magnificent
range certainly, of no less than forty-seven degrees
in extent; and superabundantly replete with
everything necessary for life, for food, for safety,
and for gratification, no matter at what time of the
year it be inspected.

The torrid zone then, is the favored spot, on
which to lay the foundation-stone of monkey-
economy. It will be an entirely new fabric. The
attempt may seem to border on rashness, or on
self-sufficiency. When finished, and offered to the
public, should it be found faulty in the eyes of our
first-rate naturalists, and be condemned by them,
I will bow submissive to their superior knowledge
and experience; and I will commit this treatise to
the flames; just as the curate and the barber of
Cervantes served certain books of the knight-
errant's unlucky library. ‘Al fuego, to the
flames, exclaimed these keen inquisitors, when
they had opened a volume of no apparent utility,
perhaps even, with poison in its pages. I have
read some books on natural history, which, if they
had their due, deserve no better fate.

The torrid zone generally gives us a rising and a

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 83

setting sun of gorgeous splendour :—with only a
trifling variation in the length of day, throughout
the whole year:—and so warm are the lower
regions of this zone, that the sensation of cold may
be said to be unknown, saving when paroxysms of
ague attack the human frame.

In this delightful section of our planet, the
traveller's notice is arrested by forests of immea-
surable magnitude, where trees of surprising height,
are in never failing foliage. On numbers of these
trees, may be observed at one and the same time, a
profusion of buds and blossoms, and green fruit,
and ripe fruit, to the utter astonishment of every
European knight-errant who travels amongst them,
in quest of zoological adventures.

Here hang huge nuts and giant pods in vast
profusion ; and when the latter have been eaten by
the monkeys, or have fallen to the ground, in their
over-ripened state, multitudes of other fruit-bearing
trees, in other parts of the forest, produce a new
supply in rotation, during the whole of the time,
that, the sun is performing his annual course,
through the well-known signs of the zodiac, so
beautifully enumerated by a latin poet.

«Sunt Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo ;
Libraque, Scorpius, Arcitenens, Caper, Amphora,

Pisces.”
Re

84 A NEW HISTORY OF

In a word, the vegetable productions of the
torrid zone, may truly be styled inexhaustible and
everlasting. No autumn to arrest their growing
vigor,—no winter to smite their beauties to the
ground, they perform the task assigned to them,
under the protecting influence of congenial spring
and summer.

The year throughout, I could scarcely ever
detect a tree, denuded of its foliage by nature's
mandate. So imperceptible was the decay, and the
renewal of the leaf in general, that I never should
have observed it, had not my eye occasionally
wandered over its changing tints, from birth to
maturity.

Although most of these tropical productions are
unpalatable to man, still they are both sweet and
nourishing to the birds and quadrupeds of the
woods. On one occasion, I found a tree covered
with ripe figs, on the bank of Camouni creek, a
tributary stream to the river Demerara. It was
literally crowded with birds and monkeys. These
last, scampered away along the trees, on my near
approach, but, most. of the birds, saving the
toucans, remained on the boughs to finish their
repast. IfTI had fired amongst them, some dozens
must have fallen ; so, to save a cruel and a useless
slaughter, I contented myself with remaining a

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 85

harmless spectator of the ornithological banquet.
I am sure that I acted rightly.

Once more, I wish to draw the attention of the
reader, to these ever-fruitful forests of the torrid
zone. I would sometimes say to myself, as I was
roving through them, that if a man could climb
like a monkey, and feel as safe, and as much at his
ease, as monkeys are in them, he might amuse
himself amongst them, from month to month, and
from year to year, without any fear of a deficiency
of trees, to arrest his journey onwards, and force
him to the eround again; so dense is the foliage,
and so interwoven are the branches.

Indeed, the traveller who contemplates the
altitude of these trees, cannot but form an indif-
ferent opinion of those in his own woods at home.
These are merely dwarfs; whilst those in the wilds
of Guiana, appear like mighty giants. One could.
fancy, that they had been trained originally, by the
hand of Omnipotence itself to ornament the
grounds of Paradise for Adam.

Never can I forget, to my dying day, the
impression which the contemplation of them, made
upon my mind:—a mind, I may say, serene
amidst nature's pristine beauties, after having left
behind it, the chequered joys and sorrows of a dull
existence in its native land.

86 -A NEW HISTORY OF .

Many a time whilst roving onwards, I would
strike a light, through mere wanton amusement,
and apply a match to some hollow tree before me ;
the enormous trunk of which, might have aptly
been denominated, the chimney at the furnace of —
old Polyphemus the Cyclop. My young readers
will learn in the course of their studies, that this
notorious giant lost his only eye, which was like a
huge shield in the middle of his forehead, by
having had it scooped out, through the application
of a red hot pine-sapling.

As there was no owner to this endless woodland
empire; nor any lawyer of course, studiously at |
work to point out the exact bearing of those well-
known words “meum and tuum,” I considered it
_ all my own by right of discovery.

The flame rapidly ascending, roared through the
enormous arboreal tunnel; and the dense columns
of black smoke, as they got vent at the tup of it,
started ,;dozens of bats which were slumbering
there, in peace and quiet,—heedless of approaching.
danger.

But, neither in this, nor in any others, which
I pried into from time to time, could I surprise or
detect a monkey. Hence, I drew the conclusion,
that hollow trees had no attraction for these
animals. In fact, if I may judge by what I know

EN ae a
aa
i:
iy t 4

THE MONKEY FAMILY. S7

_.of the habits and the nature of monkeys, there is
no more chance of finding a monkey in the hollow
of a tree, than there is of surprising me myself, on
a Sunday morning in a church of the creed by
law established in these realms: a church, which
notwithstanding its abundant supply of loaf and
fish, I cannot pronounce to be, in my eyes, any-

. thing better than a “statio malefida:’ an unsafe
anchorage.

Monkeys are by far the most expert climbers in
the known world. By the extraordinary formation
of all their four limbs, and by their peculiar
propensities,; they are formed by nature, to be
heritors of the torrid regions, where summer,
solitude, and sustenance are ever to be found.

I stop not here to notice extensive tracks, which —
are usually called Savannas in the new continent.
Some of these are dry, and others wet: but, a
description of them, is not called for just now, as
they have not trees in contiguity, and thus, of
course, they are not frequented by the monkeys.
You may see many species of birds in these
Savannas, and herds of wild swine, whilst occa-
sionally a tapir will be observed passing from
swamp to swamp:—but no monkeys, either great
or small. Monkeys would be hard set to live here.
We must go and seek them in the lofty trees,

88 A NEW HISTORY OF

where a descent to the ground would neither be
advantageous nor necessary.

During the time which I passed in the apart-
ment of the large red orang-outang, which
attracted, so much interest, so much admiration,
and ultimately so much disgust, I really considered
him to be quite out of his sphere. As he moved
to and fro, he did it with a sort of reeling motion,
and his gait was remarkably awkward: and when
he stood on two legs, his figure was out of all
proportion. You might see at once, that, nature
never intended him for a biped. To us mortals
alone, has the Creator granted the sublime privilege
of standing upright. ‘Os homini sublime dedit,”
&e. In his movements on the floor, he had_,the
appearance as though he were swung in the loins.

But, no sooner had he ascended the large
artificial tree, which had been so aptly prepared for
him, than his countenance underwent a visible
change; and all seemed to go rightly with him, as
though by magic.

He swang with amazing ease, and apparently in
excellent humour, by one arm, from branch to
branch, imitating the pendulum of a clock: then,
he would spring to another branch, and alight on
it, upon all fours, with astonishing agility and
steadfastness ; and often he came down a sloping

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 89

part of the tree, head foremost, as though he had
been walking on the level ground. So long as he
remained in the tree, his every turn and movement
indicated that he was just where he ought to be:
and he clearly shewed by his actions, and by his
manifest self-possession, that the tree to him, was
exactly as the ground is to us, or the water to the
finny tribes.

I had indeed, a most favourable opportunity of
making a few observations on the deportment of
this huge, but innocuous ape; both whilst I was
inside and outside of his metropolitan prison.

I soon saw clearly that the tendons in his long
and strangely proportioned arms did all his work
for him, as he jumped from place to place, or
whilst| he remained suspended from the branch
which he had seized. When all his four limbs were
collected on the branch, his hinder ones seemed
merely to act as steadying-props, or secondary
adjuvants. It was only when he thus exhibited
himself, that I could form a correct notion of the
astounding strength with which nature had endowed
the fore part of his body — A movement, that would
have been utterly impossible to the most active of
us lords of the creation, appeared ease itself in
this unsightly brute. Thus, having witnessed the
obvious self-possession and activity of the orang-

90 : A NEW. HISTORY oF:

outang in a tree, and having seen a full display
of its awkwardness, and apparent want of confi-
dence, after it had descended to the ground; I
pronounced it, within my mind, to be an absolutely
arboreal animal, in every sense of the word: nor
shall the collected writings of all authors, modern
as well as ancient, who have given us detailed
and positive accounts of this great apes achieve-
ments on the ground, ever convince me to the
contrary. ‘This interesting “wild man of the
woods” died when least expected to have been in
danger; and an unforeseen event, deprived me
of an opportunity to examine its remains.

Here, with the courteous reader's leave, I will
avail myself, once more, and for the last time, of a

short dialogue betwixt myself and this departed
WWape ; although I am fully aware, that such a mode
arting zoological knowledge, is quite beneath

se of our sages who are all for solemn
science; still, I venture to hope, that a little
deviation from the ordinary tract of writing, will
be pardoned by them; and possibly may tend to
avert an attack of drowsiness on the part of the
reader, whilst the book is placed open on the table
before him.

DIALOGUE.
‘Tell me, interesting ape from Borneo, are you

THE MONKEY FAMILY. ~—6@OL-

quite at your ease, when you are seen suspended
by your arms from the branch ?”—“ Perfectly so,
my dear sir, all my limbs have been formed by the
hand of our Creator, for exercise amongst the
branches of the trees. Only examine me minutely,
and you will perceive, that, my very body itself
is wholly adapted to a life in the trees; for it is
remarkably brawny in the fore parts, and slender
in the hinder ones. This gives me a wonderful
power of safe transition through the trees, be they
ever so high. I am absolutely and entirely a
native of the arboreal regions. Pray do examine
my limbs. The fore ones are hands complete
like your own, saving that the thumb is somewhat
shorter. Although, in appearance slender, they
are so tendinous and strong, that when I have once
applied them to a branch, I am in the most perfect
security. Now, my hinder limbs, as, no. doubt,
you will have observed already, are of a construc-
tion the most singular, and at the same time, the
most useful that can possibly be imagined. They
are half hand and half foot conjoined. Thus,
their fingers assist those of the fore- hands in
climbing, whilst the heels tend to keep me per-
fectly steady on the branch, wherever I rove.

_“ With such a formation, say what have we to do
on the ground? The tree is our undoubted |

92 A NEW HISTORY OF

locality. It is equally our birth-prerogative, and
the place of our death. Believe me, that all us
of the monkey family, whether in the old world or
mn the new, are inhabitants of the trees, and of
the trees only ;-—saving that little colony of ours
in Gibraltar; and we have unfortunately no
tradition to inform us how in the name of wonder,
they ever got there.

“Be assured, if they could, by any chance, slip
away from the garrison,—they would, to an ape
rejoin our brethren in Barbary, and come within
the tropic, when the sun is on his returning
journey from the North In fine, let me tell
you, my dear sir, once for all, that every monkey
in the known world, whether in infancy or in old
age; whether in health or in sickness, whether
in freedom or in captivity, (as alas, I myself now
am,) are never at our perfect ease, unless in the
trees of the forest.” hia

In height, the orang-outang which is the largest
ape hitherto discovered, does not exceed five feet.
Our own unrivalled comparative anatomist is, I
believe, of this opinion :—although I have formerly
read of an ape killed and measured in Sumatra
- approaching nearly to seven feet. Most probably,
there has been an error here.

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 93

Monkeys would be poorly off indeed, if they had
to seek for their daily food on the ground.
Supposing, for an instant, which, by the way,
is not the case, that their daily food does attach
to the ground, pray tell me how are they to acquire
it? They have not snouts like those of swine,
formed particularly to root up the earth ;—nor feet
like badgers which will penetrate it to almost any
depth. Their fingers and their nails are nearly
similar to our own. Say then, how could we, by
the bare use of our hands, get at a root of a
horse-radish, or of aconite ?—Ah, that poisonous
root aconite! Poor young Mackenzie perished by
it. Well did I know him. Not amore virtuous,
nor a more amiable, nor a more charitable young
gentleman could be found throughout the extent of
Scotland’s wide domain. Better fate did he deserve
than to have lost his valuable life, through the
blundering mistake of a culinary menial—who
having been sent to the garden for a root of horse-
radish, most unfortunately brought back with him
a handful of aconite, commonly known by the
name of monk’s-hood or wolf’s-bane ; and it served
to garnish a dish of roast beef for dinner.
I trust, that my young readers will have formed
by this time, a competent idea of the beauty and
grandeur to be observed in the evergreen forests of

94 A NEW HISTORY OF

the torrid zone; where, as I have already remarked,
in its lower regions, cold is utterly unknown,
except in sickness; where fruit is ever ripening ;
and where man, with all his deadly weapons, is
but a transient visitor in the wilds; and when he
does make his appearance there, can. easily be
avoided by the brute creation, which invariably —
retires on his approach.
“¢ And every beast, before him ran,
To shun the hateful sight of man.”

These magnificent, and nearly impenetrable
forests then, flourishing in the torrid zone, seem
to invite the entire monkey family, to come and
be happy in them. They say to these amusing »
animals as it were, “ours is really the only place on
earth to suit you. Our noble trees will eternally
supply you with food, so that, you will never find
yourselves under the necessity of going in search
of it, apart from these joyous abodes.”

- In examining the four limbs of a monkey, every-
body must see at once, that they have not been
formed by nature to do much work upon the
eround. I don’t venture to say, that monkeys
never come upon the ground. Occasionally, they
may leave their usual haunts for a short time ; just
as we ourselves exchange land for water, when
we wish to have a dip in the ocean. So may a

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 95

monkey pop into arice field,—but he would not
- stay there, even although his safety were not in
jeopardy.

Were he to try his speed on the ground, the very
thumb itself, would be an impediment in a course
forward ; whilst the long fingers would soon fail
to assist him effectually as he advanced in his
career.

Do but inspect, for a moment or so, the inside of
a monkeys hand. You will find it as soft and
delicate as that of a lady, as I have previously
observed, who always wears gloves. It would not
be so, were the monkey accustomed to run on
the ground. Now, the branches of the trees being
resilient, they give way, to a certain degree, when
pressed upon; and this probably is the cause why
all monkey’s hands are soft and tender. On the
contrary, were those hands continually in the same
position, as the feet of dogs, they would inevitably
assume a texture hard and rough.

Take a young milliner of blooming nineteen and
feel the softness of her hands, which have never
done any hard work: for, she has not been in the
habit of rubbing the dirty steps at the door with a
sandstone : nor scoured fish-kettles on her knees in
the back-kitchen, as the poor scullion did in
Tristram Shandy. No such: thing. She has
passed her time in exercise more mollient.

96 A NEW HISTORY OF

But, examine the hands of a weather-beaten
mason. You will find them as hard as the
Marpesian rock. He has been working all his —
life, with the pick and the crow-bar.
~ Pressure then, according to its intensity, will
never fail to render both our feet and our hands,
extremely hard and rigid; whilst, on the contrary,
absence of pressure, will allow them to retain their
pristine delicacy of texture.

If the reader should ever chance to dip into my
autobiography, which he will find in the “ Essays
on Natural History,” he will there learn the vast
difference there is, betwixt a tender toe and a tough
one. He will see how severely I got punished, by
rashly presuming, that, my feet (after I had now
worn shoes for twenty years,) were in the same
hardened state, as they formerly had been; when,
by going barefoot, they had become callous, and
could support me with impunity, as I wandered
through the asperities of a tropical forest. I
have no doubt but that if a soft and tender-footed
orang-outang from Borneo, had accompanied me
that morning to Rome, he would have been
equally disabled and footsore.

Custom, they say, is second nature, still custom, —
when I contemplate the singular formation of all
the four limbs of a monkey will never adapt them,

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 97

in my opinion, to perform the task of a long
journey on the ground.

But, it is almost time to close this little treatise,
in which I have carefully abstained from looking
on the monkey family with a scientific eye, merely
confining myself to shew, that the outward forma-
tion of a monkey's limbs, disables it, in a great
measure, from living on the ground; whilst the
forests of the tropics hold out to it, an everlasting
convenience for the gratification of its appetites ;
aye, for millions upon millions of individuals
which can spend their whole lives upon these trees,
in freedom and in safety. |

I willingly resign to our grave masters in the
school of zoology, the sublime task to shew cause,
why a monkey, approaching so near to man
externally, should be internally as far distant from
him, as the mule itself is, or the mule’s father, the
ass. :

When they shall have enlightened us on this
point, I will courteously ask them to explain, why
one cow has horns, and another none? Why does
a dog lap water, and a sheep drink it? Why has
the horse the large warts on the inside of his legs?
Why does cock-robin sing for twelve months
consecutively, whilst his companion, the chaffinch,
warbles but half the time? -

98 A NEW HISTORY OF.

Leaving then these Gordian knots to be unra-
velled by experter hands than mine; I must beg
permission to repudiate the accounts: which have
reached us of apes armed with clubs and of their
assaulting men in the forests;—of apes taking
young black ladies up to the tops of the trees, and
persuading them to join company for three long
years ;—of apes throwing fruit, at stated distances,
from orchards into each other's hands;—of apes
building habitations for themselves; of monkeys
preaching in the wilderness; and of others acting
the part of skilful surgeons, by stopping hemorrhages,
and by subduing inflammations. These amusing
fables must have been invented by designing
knaves to. gull some credulous adventurer in want
of matter for a book of travels. J never saw
anything of the sort in the forests of Guiana.

There is difficulty in assigning to the monkey
family, its true place in zoological nomenclature ;
for monkeys cannot be considered four-footed
animals, as they have really no feet: neither are
they exactly four-handed animals, as their hind
limbs are formed of half feet, and half hands.

Neither can they be named bipeds, although some’ —

naturalists would fain make us believe, that orang-
outangs and chimpanzees will walk upright like
ourselves. But, this wants explanation. In cap-

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 99

tivity, I grant, that they may be trained to stand
and hobble along on their hind limbs. But, in
freedom, such an exhibition will not be seen;
because, monkeys being inhabitants of trees, and of
trees only, an upright position, similar to that of
man, would never be required, and if attempted,
could only be momentary, on account of the nature
of the branch upon which the attempt would be
made. |

Certainly, as far as the fore limbs are concerned,
they may safely be pronounced arms and hands.
But then, how are we to dispose of the hind ones ?
Their termination is neither an entire hand, nor an
entire foot ; but, as I have more than once remarked,
it is an evident compound of both. The com-
bination of all these four limbs makes a monkey
by far the most expert climber of a tree in the
world: and as in form and in habits it differs
widely from all known animals, I would suggest to
our learned naturalists who are so very happy in
bestowing names, the propriety of coining a new
name for the family of the monkey, and assign
it a place apart in the zoological category.

Ere I close this little treatise, I will venture a
recapitulation, as [ think that it may be of service.

Let the young naturalist bear in mind, that I
have divided the whole of the monkey family into

L 2

100 A NEW HISTORY OF

four sections, viz., apes, baboons, and monkeys with
ordinary tails, and monkeys with prehensile ones.

IT had rather recommend this simple plan to his
notice, than terrify him with a list of hard names
from modern books, and bewilder him with
divisions and subdivisions of this interesting family,
until his head can no longer tolerate the scientific
burden.

Let him also remember, that, all monkeys,
saving a few isolated apes on the rock of Gibraltar,
are inhabitants of the torrid zone. Some few,
perhaps, may stray for a degree or so beyond
the tropics ; but then, their movements to and fro,
will be regulated by the sun’s apparently revolving
movements within the tropics.

Again, let him reflect, that no monkey, either
great or small in either hemisphere, has limbs
formed like limbs of quadrupeds; but, that, they
have hands properly so called, with long fingers, and
with thumbs (these last have been denied to one
or two species) most singularly shaped to assist
the animal in traversing the trees:—that, no
monkey has yet been discovered, or probably
ever will be discovered, with limbs essentially
differing in form, from those already known to
us. Moreover, that none of the monkey family
make nests ; nor do they prepare any kind of dens

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 101

nor recesses amongst the branches of trees,
wherein to retire for the propagation of their race.
That, their only true resting places are the
branches and the clefts of trees, both of which
they uniformly desert, when food becomes deficient.

That, the young ones cleave to their mother’s
bodies wherever their mothers ramble, without any
risk of falling, just as the young bats in this
country, are known to cling to theirs.

That, the largest species of this wonderful family,
far from shewing signs of pursuit, or of resistance,
scampers away amongst the trees on the appear-
ance of man; whilst individuals of the lesser tribes,
will sometimes mount to the tops of the trees, and
there look down upon the passing traveller below,
apparently with astonishment, as though they
recognised in his physiognomy, some faint traces
of a newly-arrived cousin.

Whilst we admire the lion, walking on his path ;
or observe the jaguar crouching on the bole of
some inclined tree, half-rooted up by the force of
the hurricane ;—whilst we contemplate the bull
ruminating in the plain, and the roebuck bounding
oer the hills; we see them in situations exactly
suited to their forms and to their appetites.

Then, let us have the monkey, just where it
ought to be, and nowhere else. Its shoulders,—

102 A NEW HISTORY OF

its strong and tendinous arms,—the strength of
its foreparts, and the slender structure of its hinder
ones,—its appetites and astonishing agility, all
conspire and force us to concede that patrimony to
the whole family for which, never erring nature has
most admirably, and most indubitably adapted it.

There aloft, amid the trees of the tropics, it will
find a harmless neighbour in the sloth :—slow
indeed and awkward in the extreme, as I have
shewn heretofore, when forced from its native
haunts ;—but lively and active when allowed to
remain in them. Whilst the monkey moves with
speed, with firmness and security on the upper
parts of the branches,—the sloth will be seen
rapidly progressing underneath by clinging to
them:—both fulfilling by constitutional move-
ments, their Creator's imperious mandates.

When viewed at a distance these two inhabitants
of the forest, appear genuine quadrupeds, but a
near inspection shews their true characters, and
proves that they ought not to be styled four-footed,
nor even four-handed animals. The monkey
exhibits nothing that can be correctly called a foot,
saving the heel on its hinder lmbs ;—and the
sloth can shew nothing that can even be considered
part of a foot.

Here then, I bid farewell to the interesting

THE MONKEY FAMILY. 108

family of monkey ;—having done my best to assign
it a domain, where, aloft from the ground,—and
with everything that can conduce to its health, to its
safety, and to the gratification of its propensities,
it can enjoy life, and unerringly fulfil the orders of
an all-wise Providence, which has destined it,—not
to be an inhabitant of the ground,—but to live,
and to perpetuate its progeny amid the ever-
lasting verdure of the forests in the torrid zone.

PIGEON-COTS

AND

PIGEON-STEALERS.

‘NE GLORIARI LIBEAT ALIENIS BONIS.”

It 1s not lawful you should boast,
Of triumph at another’s cost.

SHOULD my iittle collection of facts in natural
history, be pleasing to the general reader, I
would beg leave to draw his attention to this
paper in particular; which although, properly
speaking, not wholly confined to my favourite
study, will still. be useful to him; and will let
him into deeds of evil import, which if not pre-
vented by the hand of power, will end, ere iong, in
the extermination of a breed of birds, acknowledged
by remote generations, as well as by ourselves,
to be most excellent food for man, and productive
of singular fertility to the farmer's field.

A Roman poet, two thousand years ago, left us a

PIGEON-STEALERS. 105

good hint how to ensure a plentiful supply of dove-
cot pigeons. *

Time was in England, when badgers, bears, and
bulls, were torn and slaughtered by ferocious dogs,
trained purposely to do the bloody deed.

At last, the legislature interfered, and stopped
these shows of cruelty and vice.

But, unfortunately, in their place, there has
arisen another demoralising pastime. By the way,
it is the very thing for assembled pick-pockets to
work at their vocation, and for publicans to sell
their adulterated beer.

And, although it is considered to be not so
manifestly cruel in its aspect, as the above men-
toned exhibitions; still, in detail, it is worse if
anything, and at the same time, most ruinous to
the farmer's profits. We may be allowed to make
use of the word worse,—because, when a badger, for
example, is killed by the dogs, there is an end
of it. Not so with wounded pigeons. They man-
age to get home, where they will linger for days,
and then die ; leaving too often behind them, their
helpless young ones, to perish for want of food,
and maternal warmth.

This brings me at once to the dove-cot.

Our pigeons may be advantageously divided into

* See Ovid’s Tristium.

106 PIGEON-COTS AND

two classes :—viz., dove-cot pigeons, which are
destined for the use of the table; and fancy birds,
which are carefully kept apart, in order to ensure
a continuation of the original breed.

Pigeon-fanciers apply themselves to the produc-
tion of croppers, carriers, fantails, barbs, capuchins,
and other remarkable sorts; whilst the farmer
confines his attention to the more profitable class,
of what is usually known by the name of dove-cot
pigeons.

These last birds are not so positively defined in
figure and plumage as the first; and as their color
is perpetually varying, in each succeeding progeny,
the farmer would scarcely be able to swear to them
in, a court of justice, should he have recourse
to a prosecution.

‘In fact, dove-cot pigeons cannot well be con-
sidered the private property of any individual,
as they do not always remain in one particular
cot. Hence, if I were allowed a peculiar observa-
tion, I would say, that they may be styled colum-
bine cosmopolites.

They feed in all parts of the country. If they
determine to inhabit your dove-cot, they desert
mine, and they breed with you;—whilst, not
uncommonly, several pairs of your pigeons, will
come and take up their quarters with me.

PIGEON-STEALERS. 107

This promiscuous interchange of pigeons, is
perfectly understood, and approved of by all the
neighbourhood ; and it never seems to be detri-
mental to any particular cot. In days gone by,
dove-cots were in high repute ; and provided only,
that you kept them clean, and managed to shut out
effectually, the Hanoverian rat, (no easy achieve-
ment) you never failed to have a good supply
of dove-cot pigeons.

There exists a law, now considered obsolete; and
a most salutary law it was; namely, that if any
body should kill old dove-cot pigeons, (no matter
where) he was fined one guinea for every old bird
wilfully destroved.

The lord of the manor himself, could not
transgress with impunity, this useful law. Nay,
in order to encourage fair play, it was deemed fit, by
common consent, to prohibit the placing of what
was called a salt-cat, in any dove-cot. Now, a salt-
cat was understood to be a composition of barley-
meal, salt, and corn; forming a most tempting
repast to the whole race of dove-cot pigeons.

When I was a boy, I remember well to have
heard my father say, that the owner of a dove-cot
was not allowed to white-wash the outside of it,
lest too great a number of other people’s pigeons,
might forsake their own ordinary cot, and be

108 PIGEON-COTS AND

tempted, above their strength, to take up their abode
in it, and hatch a succession of young ones there. _

Nothing can be more attractive to the pigeon
family, than the dove-cot well white-washed inside
and out ; nor is there anything more repulsive than
one that is filled with filth. . Ovid the Roman poet
Says.

‘ Aspicis ut veniunt ad candida tecta columbe !
Accipiet nullas, sordida turris, aves.”

Under our old provincial regulations, the dove-
cots throve surprisingly. Markets had a regular
supply throughout the season, and the farmer's
expectations were amply realized.

There were always pigeon-cots to be seen in
every village, or near to it, in this part of Yorkshire.

I say, near the village, because our ancient
encouragers of pigeons imagined, that if the dove-
cot were built in the farm yard, probably the
barking of the guard-dog,—the sound of the flail,
and the passing to and fro of the labourers, would
disturb the incubating pigeons, and thus lesson the
profits of the dove-cot. Wherefore, dove-cots were
generally built in a croft, at a proper distance from
the farm establishment. :

But my father, who was a keen observer of
nature, knew better; and he, at once, erected his
modern dove-cot, nearly in the centre of his

PIGEON-STEALERS. 109

buildings. The very first season proved that he
had acted wisely; and I myself, in latter times,
have known ninety-three dozens of young pigeons
to have been taken out of this dove-cot in the
course of one year.

But now the wind -has veered against us: and
scanty is the show of pigeons. The reader will
see why, if he will read the remainder of this
paper.

Whilst the owner could protect his pigeons,
numerous square dove-cots of handsome archi-
tecture, embellished the sylvan scenery of the
adjacent country; and as old pigeons were not in
repute for the table, these dove-cots were sure to
have a plentiful supply of breeding-birds ; and the
farmers vied with each other, in keeping their dove-
cots in thorough repair.

These buildings contained separate recesses or
holes for each pair of pigeons; and, in front of
these holes, there was a row of bricks from wall to
wall, jutting out by way of a terrace, whereon the
inmates might rest or walk. A window, and
sometimes two, gave light to the interior of the
building: and there was a large square glazed
frame at the top of the roof, supported by four
short legs; just giving room enough betwixt the
roof and the frame, to allow of the ingress and egress

110 PIGEON-COTS AND

of the pigeons. It was called a glover; supposed
to be a corruption of the French word ouvert, that
is, aN Opening. So says common report oF and
down the country.

Inside of the cot, there was. an upright shaft,
working in a socket on the floor; and also at the
top, by means of a pivot, which was let into a cross-
beam. A frame, forming steps from the bottom to
the top, and jointed into the upright shaft, afforded
an easy ascent to the climber in quest of young
pigeons. Up this, he used to mount, step by
step; and with one foot on it, and with the other
on the jutting bricks already mentioned, he could
go round the dove-cot ; searching every hole in the
place, with ease, and with perfect safety to himself.

A well-planned dove-cot ought to have solid walls
for a couple of yards from the foundation, to
prevent vermin from making their way upwards;
and there ought to be light through a window,
independent of that which enters at the glover.

My new dove-cot has two large windows, and
six hundred and sixty-six holes or recesses for the
purpose of incubation. It is cleaned out, and
white-washed inside, once every year. The old
one, in former days, before pigeon shooting became
the fashionable and, properly speaking, the illegal
pastime of the day, was always well stocked with
birds.

PDEA K 0%

PIGEON STEALEBRS. REI

_ Many farmers in this neighbourhood, by means
of selling pigeon-manure at eighteen pence per
bushel, and by supplying the markets with young
birds, realized a sum of twenty-five pounds sterling
in the course of the year.

As dove-cot pigeons are considered a kind of
common stock throughout the country, no farmer
ever takes umbrage when he sees a flight of stranger
pigeons alight at his barn door: because he is
quite aware, that the pigeons which incubate in his

’ own dove-cot, have a similar privilege in other

premises at any distance from him.

This state of things appertaining to dove-cot-
economy, had existed for centuries in England ;
during which period, the farmer reaped abundant
profit, and the epicure had daily gratification, by
means of the encouragement and protection shewn
all over the land, to the common dove-cot pigeon.

At last, some half century ago, perhaps not quite
so much, this profitable and peaceful understanding
amongst farmers, was doomed to go to wreck.
Their long-continued sunshine, was succeeded by
dark and cloudy weather: and a hitherto most
abundant supply of young pigeons, was to dwindle
down to nothing, before the face of a cruel
phantom; to which our modern plunderers have
given the fashionable name of a pigeon-shooting
match.

112 PIGEON-COTS AND

This destructive diversion, utterly unknown to
our ancestors, can only be kept up by a vast supply
of old dove-cot pigeons. Now, farmers never part
with these birds. They know better than to do
that, which would be so ruinous to their real
interests. They are wiser than to kill the goose
which lays the golden egg. |

What then is to be done? Young Mr. Draper
wants to try anew gun: Squire Goodaim is eager
to shew his skill in shooting, before an assembled
multitude :—his sweetheart sits, no doubt, in the
foremost ranks:—and Tunley (Smollett’s name for
an innkeeper) has his eye on an opening to dispose
of his excellent beer by the hogshead. Urgent
reasons these for destroying kidnapped pigeons!
Under the pressure of such weighty circumstances,
a letter is despatched to some country game-
vendor, for a large supply of living pigeons, which
birds, he is perfectly aware, cannot be supplied by
honest means. The game-vendor immediately
summons a poacher from the neighbourhood,
where well-stocked dove-cots offer a supply. The
parties soon understand each other. A bargain is
now made ;—and before daylight the next morning,
hampers with living pigeons, arrive at the nearest
railway-station, on their route to the appointed
shooting: match ; from which novel field of carnage

PIGEON-STEALERS. 1138

scarcely a solitary bird escapes. The history of
their unexpected and untimely capture is briefly
this.

Three or four daring villains, provided with a
net, and some willow-crates, (the darker the night
the better) proceed to the dove-cot which has been
denounced for pilfer. A ladder of convenient
length is stolen for the occasion. Slowly and
silently these nocturnal thieves approach the
farmer's dove-cot. Arrived at the spot, two of
them ascend the ladder in order to reach the
glover, over which they gently throw the net.

This done, their comrades below, tap gently at
the door of the dove-cot; making a noise just
sufficient to awake the inmates, without causing
them to fly all at once to the four openings at the
bottom of the glover. A few more gentle taps,
cause the awakened birds to attempt an escape:
and as fast as each bird passes out of the dove-cot,
it 1s arrested in its course by the net, and there
becomes the prey of the thieves.

Thus, the required number is obtained; whilst
the robbery has been effected with little or no
noise.

Lhe booty is disposed of in baskets, and taken to
the game-vendor who had hired the plunderers.
They are well paid for their nocturnal exertions.

M

114 PIGEON-COTS AND

The game-vendor forwards the pigeons to the
appointed destination ; and in due time, he receives
his reward from the director of the shooting-match.

Here then, is exposed the root and mischief of
a new diversion risen up im our own time:—a
pastime | atronised by those, who, should they read
this paper, will clearly see, that their shooting-
matches are supported by crime, and terminate
manifestly to the cost of our industrious farmers,
who never send old pigeons tothe market. Where-
fore, we may safely calculate, that, the old birds
which have been procured for the shooting-matches,
have all been stolen from the farmer's dove-cot.

If this nefarious pastime be persisted in much
longer, the supply of young pigeons for the market
will scarcely be worth noticing :—and to the
shceoting-matches alone, will be traced the lament-
able diminution of a dish so well known to the
public, under the appellation of pigeon-pie.

A tenant of mine, in Walton village, used
formerly to pay great attention to his pigeon-cot ;
but having had it robbed twice in one year, he has
now abandoned it in utter despair of evermore being
able to protect the birds from our nightly depre-
dators, hired to procure supplies of living pigeons
for the shooting-matches. Whilst I was in Italy,
my own dove-cot was robbed twice of its old birds.

PIGEON-STEALERS. 115

Determined to put a tinal stop to the plunder, I
pulled it down, and have erected another in a
safer place; which I have made so high, that no
ladder can be found of sufficient length to reach
the roof.

Our pigeon-cots are now much diminished in
numbers. ‘Those which formerly stood in the
paddocks, have either been pulled down, or left to
remain, without any hopes on the part of the
owners, that they will ever again become productive ;
whilst those in the villages, exhibit an appearance
of manifest neglect on the part of the farmers.

In fact, the modern amusement of pigeon-
shooting, entails poverty on the pigeon-cot. The
village of Walton bears ample testimony to this.

If the act of parliament, which they say, has
never been repealed, were now put in force to save
our few remaining dove-cots from dilapidation, the
nocturnal pigeon-plunderers would soon cease to
exercise their wicked calling. Anybody, on ob-
serving a willow-cage filled with common pigeons,
and ready for the railway-train, would have a
pretty certain clue to go by; as he might be quite
sure, that all those birds have been recently stolen.
Such a willow cage, has lately been left, full of
old pigeons, at the Roystone-station, Yorkshire.

In addition to pigeon-stealers during the night,

M 2

116 PIGEON-COTS AND

our farmers have other enemies to deal with during
the day.

These are the trading barges upon inland canals.
The master of these boats never fails to have a gun
on board. With this he commits great havoc, by
killing and wounding our pigeons whilst they are
feeding in the fields adjacent to the canal. Some
fall dead, and others, wounded by the discharge,
barely reach the cot, where they linger for a while,
and then expire, often leaving young ones in the
holes above them, to perish for want of their daily
food. |
Some years ago, near a farm at the Oakenshaw-
station, near Wakefield a case occurred of which I
was an eye-witness.

The farmer had just finished his barley-sowing,
in a field bordering on the Barnsley canal. <A
flock of pigeons was picking up the grains which
had not got covered by the harrow. <A boat was
coming slowly up; and as I expected mischief, I
quietly placed myself under a hedge, to see what
might take place. A gun was discharged from the
barge at the feeding pigeons. Some fell, and
others returned to the dove-cot, which has since
been abandoned. I cailed upon the farmer; and
having told him what I had just seen, I said, that
I was ready to appear against the owner of the

PIGEON STEALERS. 117

barge. He remarked, that, what with pigeon-
shooting by boatmen, and pigeon-stealing by hired
poachers, his dove-cot was not worth attending to.
He declined a prosecution, fearing lest the barge-
men should set fire to his corn-stacks. Thus ended
the affair.

I have now placed in a clear point of view, the
real causes of destruction to our dove-cots. The
cure is both cheap and easy. It depends upon the
public to determine what is to be done. If our
markets are to be supplied as in days of yore,
pigeon-shooting-matches must certainly cease. If,
on the contrary, these cruel exhibitions are to be
continued, then indeed, our few remaining dove-
cots, will ere long, become tenantless; and they will
serve as beacons to shew the passing countryman,
what crime and cruelty can effect, when under the
cloak of pastime for the higher orders.

THE HUMMING-BIRD.

‘““ MAXIMUS IN MINIMIS CERNITUR ESSE DEUS.”

I am not satisfied with the accounts which
naturalists have given us of this little animated
erial gem. Neither do the drawings of it please
me; and as for the specimens themselves, in the
museums, both at home and on the continent, they
have, all of them, evidently been done by the hand
of a man, who knew not what he was doing.

I wish to describe the figure and the habits of
the humming-bird family, so distinctly that when
young naturalists visit our museums, they may be
able to decide, without any hesitation, which is
a humming-bird, and which is not. For, this
family is unique in the world, and its figure cannot
be mistaken. All other known birds, saving the
swifts, may be seen at one time or other on the
ground. The humming-bird is never observed
there.

The name “ humming-bird ” is aptly given ; and
for the sake of sperspicuity, I shall retain it

THE HUMMING-BIRD. 119

throughout the whole of the family ; because every
individual of it, from the largest to the smallest,
produces the humming noise whilst on the wing ;
and this sound proceeds from the quick vibration
of the wings, which are scythe-like in form, and
different in appearance, from the wings of all other
known birds.

I reject the latin word “ Trochilus” for the
humming-bird. It may sound learned, and is
much used by foreign naturalists. But, I am
writing on humming-dzrds :—not humming-fops.

No humming-birds have ever been discovered
in the old world. For although, both Africa and
Asia contain minute birds of wonderful brilliancy
in the metallic colors, still, the legs of all these,
without any exception, are sufficiently long to
enable them to walk on the ground. But, the legs
of the humming-bird are useless on the ground.
This I have already stated.

As a distinctive mark, we may say, that there
is a proportional length of leg, in all the small
birds of the old world, useful when on the ground,
but that, for want of this proportional length of
leg in the humming-birds of the new world, the
legs become useless when accident has brought
down the bird from its erial domain. }

The legs then, of all humming-birds being noto-

120 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

riously short, I wish the young naturalist to keep
this feature in mind. By so doing, when he
enters a museum in any part of the world, he will
perceive at one glance, whether the specimen before
him, is a humming-bird from America, or whether
it belongs to some other tribe of birds, no matter,
from what part of the world; even though, it be
decked in metallic colors, as these colors may be
seeh in other birds, just as well as in the humming-
birds.

Let us now proceed to examine these resplendent
gems of the new world, in their component parts
and habits.

The entire tribe of humming-birds exhibits the
same form of wings, (with a trifling variation
in some of the primary feathers) legs, and feet.
But the bills in certain species, vary to some
extent. Some have the bill short and quite straight.
In others, it has a downward curve, in shape some-
what like a cobbler’s awl; whilst here and there we
find other species with the end of the bill turned
upwards, as in that of our own avoset. In the
year 1806, I killed a humming-bird with its bill so
formed, about forty miles up the river Demerara.
It was sitting on a twig which was hanging over
the water..

In one species of humming-bird, found in

THE HUMMING-BIRD. 121

the Carracas, the bill is quite straight, and of such

an extraordinary length, that it appears dispro-
portionate, and puts the observer in mind of a
woodcock’s bill. The bird itself is robed in a
homely dress, somewhat deficient in metallic
shades. When I was in Rome, a skin of this
newly discovered species, was sent to Prince
Canino, and offered to him, for the enormous sum,
if I recollect rightly, of eighteen pounds sterling.
The Prince returned the skin, and I think he acted
very wisely.

Lhe humming-bird can never be seen upon the
ground, unless it has had a fall.

Nature has peremptorily ordered it to retire to
the tree for rest, or for incubation, or for sleep,
after it has fulfilled its duties on rapid wing,
through the azure vault of heaven.

I may be allowed to use the word rapid, because,
I am quite sure, that nobody has ever yet detected
a humming-bird loitering on the wing, as our crows
and pigeons will often do. The flight of this bird
is as that of an arrow from a bow, sent by some
vigorous hunter. The bird is nearly invisible,
until it arrives at the food-bearing flower, where it
remains on wing, apparently motionless to our |
eyes ;—such is the astonishing vibration of the
pinions.

122 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

Should it, by any chance, come to the ground
before your face, its awkward struggles would shew
at once, that it was quite out of its element.
Indeed, let authors affirm what they choose to
the contrary, you would see with your own eyes,
that it could neither hop nor walk; and that, both

its abdominal and caudal plumage, had come in ~

contact with the mire, for want of longer legs
to sustain the bird in a proper attitude.

In forming its nest, the whole of the materials
are collected from plants, trees, and spiders’ webs.

Some of these nests are beautifully formed of one

uniform interwoven material, without any lining,
and they put you in mind of brown tanned leather.
Others have a delicate and an uncommonly soft
lining, taken from the wild ipecacuanha. Many
are placed upon the upper part of a horizontal
branch, and are so studded with the lichen found
on the tree, that it is no easy matter to distinguish
the nest. Some are attached to the extremity of a
pendant leaf, well secured by innumerable threads
of the spider’s web; and forming a most curious
sample of ornithological architecture. Nothing of
the nature of glue, nor any other viscous sub-
stance, is made use of by the old bird in the
fabrication of her nest. Spiders’ web supplies the
place of these ; and we see, on inspection, that this

od

THE HUMMING-BIRD. 123

is made use of by our own chaffinch, in finishing
the outside of its nest.

The form of the body in every individual of the
humming-bird family, is precisely the same, differ-
ing only in size.

At the knees, in many species, (indeed, in all,
in a greater or a less degree) is found a profusion
of delicately white feathery down. When this is
made to appear in preserved specimens, a solecism
is committed, in the art of what our learned
doctors now call “taxidermy.” No part of this
feathery down ought to appear, whether the bird
be on the wing, or resting upon the twig of a tree.
In nature, it is entirely concealed by the adjacent
and surrounding feathers.

The toes, and a very small portion of the foot,
will sometimes appear in view; but rarely do you
see the feet when the bird sits on the branch or
twig; and never, by any chance, can you see the
leg, no matter whether the bird be in motion or at
rest.

When once the humming-bird has reached the
branch, there it remains, quiet and motionless, like
our domestic swallow; never moving to or fro,
as other birds are wont to do. It adheres firmly to
the spot where it first alighted, until its wants
or its whims cause it to depart ;—when off it darts,
bright as a refulgent meteor through the sky.

124 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

Let me here remark, that the humming-bird
never perches when in the act of feeding ; but,
invariably takes its nutriment whilst fluttering on
the wing before a flower.

With a trifling variation, which may be called
a flattening of the shafts in the primary wing-
feathers of a few species, the form of the wings
in the entire family is precisely the same. Hence,
every individual, great and small, will produce the
same humming noise; with this difference, that
it will sound stronger in the larger tribes, and
weaker in the smaller ones.

Although the flight of these birds is rapid
beyond conception, yet the individual which exer-
cises it, is never seen in an altitude much higher
than the tops of the trees, nor so low as to sweep
along, close to the ground, or to the surface of the
water, as our swallows are wont to do.

The course of humming-birds seems always
directed to the locality where they can meet with
food, either in the cups of flowers, or at a column
of gnats, clustering in the void, at a moderate
distance from the ground.

When the parasite plants of Guiana have come
into full bloom, then is the proper time to find
certain humming-birds, which you never fall in
with, when these parasites are only in leaf. I have

THE HUMMING-BIRD. 125

sought for them, whole months without success,
until the blooming of the parasite plant informed
me, that I need labour in vain no longer.

Once I had an odd adventure near a parasite
bunch of flowers in the forest. I had been sitting
about four hours on the ground, not much at my
ease, for the sun was blazing in full splendor,
when I heard a gentle rustling amongst the fallen
leaves ; and presently, I saw a fine martin of the
foumart family, making: slowly up to the place
which I was occupying.

On getting sight of me, it gave a kind of scream
as though it would have said, “ halloo, sir, I did
not expect to meet you here!” and then it instantly
turned about, and took to the trees; I following
it, and shouting at the top of my voice. This
terrified it and increased its speed; and whilst it
was in the act of vaulting from a branch, I fired at
it, without raising the gun to my shoulder. Won-
derful to relate, down dropped the flying martin :
dead as Julius Cesar. ‘This is the first and last
quadruped I ever shot in mid-air.

Very great doubts may be entertained as to
the song or supposed song of humming-birds.
Although I was in the midst of humming-birds, I
never heard the least attempt at it. Still,’the
great French naturalist, talks of singing humming-

126 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

birds; but, I imagine that he must have been
wrongly informed, as the humming-birds, of which
he writes, (and he had his information from an
eye-witness) were only young birds, a few weeks
out of the nest. Now, we all know, that this age,
both in man and in birds, is too immature for the
production of song.

I am not a believer in humming-bird-melody
If it do exist, it must come from a species hitherto
unknown; and with a guttural formation quite
different from that which obtains in the species
already examined. These guttural parts are alike
in the whole known family :—and thus, if one bird
can sing, they all ought to sing.

I can state positively, from long experience,
that humming-birds are not gregarious in the usual
acceptation of the word. Their incubation is
always solitary; and although many dozens of
them, may be seen feeding, at the scarlet flowers,
for example, on the tree which the French call
‘Bois Immortel,” those birds will have been seen
to arrive, one by one at the flowers, and to have
retired from them, one by one, when the repast
was over. |

Neither the monkey nor the humming-bird, on
account of the formation of the feet in this, and of
the hands in that, can labour on the ground for

THE HUMMING-BIRD. Lary

their food. Yet, when they are in the right region
to acquire it, there is a visible difference in their
mode of proceeding. Thus, the monkey sits on
the branch, and, in that position, supplies its
wants, with what the tree produces. But the
humming-bird, must be on wing whilst it extracts
food from the flowers ; and never can it possibly be
seen to take nourishment, whilst perching on a
twig.

This rule is absolute for the humming-bird.

The vault of heaven offers a large supply of food
to these birds. It is interesting to see how they
satisfy the call of hunger, by invading the columns
of insects which frequent the circumambiant
atmosphere. Darting from the shade, with the
rapidity of a meteor, the humming-bird stops short
at the column, and there, apparently motionless, it
regales itself, and then departs, as swiftly as it had
approached.

Authors are divided as to the exact kind of food
which humming birds require.

In all the species which I have inspected (and
I have inspected not a few), I have found insects,
or fragments of insects in the esophagus; and
occasionally, by applying my tongue to the
contents of the stomach, I have experienced a sweet
taste, as though of sugar and water. Still, were I

128 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

asked, if I considered, that the nectar in flowers,
constituted the principal food of humming-birds,
I should answer in the negative. Insects form
their principal food. ,

The robust frame of these birds, seems to
require something more solid to support life, than
the nectarious dew abstracted from flowers; and
I don't exactly see, if these birds, do principally
exist on this kind of nutriment, how it is, that
they continue to keep it pure in their own hot
stomachs; and then, by a process, unknown to
us, convey it to the stomachs of their gaping little
ones. But, the schoolmaster has left his closet
and gone abroad. Perhaps he will clear away a
good part of the mist, which still envelopes this
ornithological section of natural history. Let us
hope for the best.

Within the tropics, we find nearly the whole of
the numerous family of humming-birds.

The supreme ruler of the universe, who has per-
emptorily ordered the sun never to transgress the
boundary marked out for its annual course, in the
everlasting highway of the flaming zodiac, has
equally insisted, that these lovely little birds, with
here and there an exception, should keep in the
same track with the glorious luminary himself.

Those exceptions which wander farther on into

af rs

Fi

THE HUMMING-BIRD. 129

the temperate, and possibly arctic regions, will not
stay there, after the sun has reached the equator in
his returning journey. They belong to the torrid
zone, and there alone can they find their nutriment
in the winter months.

It is in the torrid zone then, of the new world,
that we are to look for the family of the humming-
bird in all its species. A family, adorned with
plumage of such amazing brilliancy, as to compete
with, if not surpass, the united splendor of our
most precious stones themselves.

Let the young naturalist imagine, blue, white,
red, yellow, green, crimson, lake and purple, with
all the intermediate shades, blended into each
other, producing a most fascinating effect; and
then he will form a faint idea of the transcendent
beauty which adorns the plumage of these living
gems.

I once possessed a humming-bird, which wonder-
fully attracted the attention of the late worthy Mr.
Loddiges. He stood riveted to the spot as he
examined it.

Knowing that he had formed his own collection
of humming-birds, chiefly for the good of science ;
and aware that mine had no ulterior pretentions,
than to attract the passing notice of accidental
visitors, I begged him to accept it.

130 THE HUMMING-BIRD.

On returning to London, Mr. Loddiges sent me
afew fine specimens of the thorn which bears a
black berry, intimating that he had been assured,
that this species of thorn, had attractions for the
nightingale. ‘These plants are now in fine vigor at
Walton Hall.

No doubt, there are yet, numerous species of
humming-birds, brilliant as the morning star, to be
discovered in those far distant and immeasurable
wilds, where at the present time, perhaps, there
is not one solitary rational being to admire the
profusion of their metallic splendor, glowing like
diamonds in their rich and loricated plumage.

“Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear,
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.,

“0 FONS BANDUSIZ SPLENDIDIOR VITRO.”

THE traveller may reach this renowned city in
an easy day’s journey from Calais, or from Ostend.
It is charmingly situated in the bosom of surround-
ing hills, where corn fields, wood and pasture seem
to vie with each other in tempting the health-
seeking stranger, to take up his abode amongst
them during the ever welcome sunshine of a
summer season.

I own; that I am not easily captivated by Euro-
pean scenery, be it ever so magnificent, after
having wandered through the boundless beauties of
tropical America ; still, when I have arrived at Aix-
la-Chapelle, I feel lost in admiration; and there
succeeds to my mind, a calm and a composure, not
easily to be described; and I find oft new objects
of wonder, both in town and country on each suc-
ceeding visit.

Aix-la-Chapelle presents an instructive memento
im undoubted features, to all who find their way

N 2

I32 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

to it, as they journey on through all our well-
known “vale of tears.” Its now mouldering walls,
with here and there a fortress, dismantled by the
imperious hand of man, or ruined by the storms of
time, tell him too clearly, that they have been
strong and mighty in their prime; but, that now,
their hour of warlike glory has passed away; and
that even their hard materials must ere long dis-
solve and crumble into pieces, at their own
foundations, never to rise again.

Here, boiling fountains, heated by the hand of
nature, have flowed, time out of mind, for the
benefit. of distressed humanity; and they will
apparently continue in the present course, uninter-
rupted to the consummation of all things; unless
some vast commotion in the bowels of mother
earth, shall change their stream, or dry it up for
ever.

I stop not here to attempt an analysis of these
health-restoring waters. That can be obtained
satisfactorily from ancient and modern books,
which contain very correct details of their compo-
nent parts. In fact, to tell the truth, I have no real
science in me. I merely look at art and nature
as I pass along ; and I pen down that which gives
me most delight. So puny are my pretentions
to anything in the shape of science, that I frankly

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 13s

confess, I have never yet been able to find out, why
a dung hill cock claps his wings before he crows ;
and why a cock-pheasant. does the same thing,
after he has ceased to crow.

But, this means nothing: let me now proceed.

The medicinal virtues of these salubrious waters,
are almost beyond belief; and had I not the
testimony of those who have experienced their
efficacy, and whom I know, by personal acquaint-
ance, to repudiate anything in the form of exagger-
ation, I should scarcely venture to adduce my
own opinion. I admire the city, and enjoy its
atmosphere, which is impregnated with the sub-
terranean vapours. Add to this, the mild and
courteous manners of the people ;—a_ behaviour
which seems universal; and which never fails to
put me in a good humour with myself. So what
with the inhabitants, and what with the city, and
what with its beautiful environs, | may say, that
I feel most contented; and probably, I shall
continue to pay an annual visit to Aix-la-Chapelle,
“dum res, et etas, et Sororum, fila trum patiuntur
atra:°—in other words, whilst I have it in my
power to do so.

I question, whether all Europe united, can pro-
duce a profusion of medicinal waters, so potent, so
agreeable, and so effective as those which this fine

134 AI1X-LA-CHAPELLE.

city, and its picturesque neighbourhood, offer to
our acceptance. ‘Tis here, with reason, that num-
bers after numbers flock from every part to seek
relief, and to stay departing health.

T have seen disabled saints and sinners, handed
out of their carriages, as though they themselves
had been inanimate, or bales of merchandise ; and
in the course of a fortnight, [ have observed those
very same members of ailing mortality, first, on
crutches,—then with two sticks; and then in
another week, without any borrowed support ;
hobbling pretty gingerly towards the Eliza foun-
tain; near which, amid strains of instrumental
music, La Belle Julie, in her well-known establish-
ment, would regale them with a delicious cup of
coffee, quite free from chicory.

Thus, with copious draughts of water, and pure
baths at moderate charges, the visitors have a very
fair chance of regaining their health; provided
they will assist these potent adjuvants, by due
attention to the state of their stomachs; and not
derange them with delicacies which tempt them
on every side. But, hereby hangs a tale ;—a tale
which at once lets us into a secret, why expected
cures too often end in utter disappointment.

Aix-la-Chapelle is famed for its sumptuous
cheer. Her hétels may be said to have been plan-

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 130

ned by the genius of Epicurus himself. Their
culinary dainties are so attractive and irresistible,
that it requires the fortitude of a Cornaro, to retire
from table, without having sinned grievously
against the welfare of your stomach.

Often, on sitting me down to table, I reflect on
Circé’s entertainments by way of warning. We are
told her fascinations were so powerful, that there
was no resisting them, except by the guests being
tied down in their places. She lived in the Medi-
terranean, and turned all the sailors of Ulysses into
swine.

In these hétels you may see enfeebled warriors,
once all powerful on the field of Mars, now armed
with knife and fork in lieu of battle-axe; and
dispatching dish after dish, with never tiring jaws:
whilst some hungry dame across the table, quite
forgetful of her injured health, sets seriously to
work, and like Penelope of old, unravels the web
of health towards nightfall, after having assidu-
ously worked at it during the morning-tide.

Thus are all professed attempts to renovate a
frame, which has been broken in upon by disease,
or enfeebled by unhealthy climates, rendered utterly
abortive. The disappointed sufferer leaves the city
in surly disappointment ;—never perhaps reflecting,
that his own carnivorous propensities, have been

136 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

the insurmountable barrier on his road to the
recovery of his health. But the hotel-masters of
Aix-la-Chapelle, are not responsible for this unlucky
breaking-down. They are expected by the public
to offer first-rate cheer; and this they do, with
an unsparing hand.

They are an attentive, and remarkably well-
conducted set of men; and they appear to vie with
each other, who can make their guests feel most at
home.

Those visiters who do not go into lodgings, have
generally their own favourite hétel; and few there
are, I believe, who repent of the choice which they
have made. As I am always sauntering up and
down, when in watering places, to study men and
manners, I can observe contentment on their faces,
and hear their thanks to the host for his good
cheer, and for his obliging attention to them, during
their stay at the hotel.

Formerly, for several years, my usual resort was
at the Dragon dor, kept by the widow Van
Gulpen :—the sign corresponding with my turn for
natural history; and the good ladys name, an
assurance, that her cheer was not administered by
driblets.

Madame Van Gulpen was a kind and generous
landlady ;—she had always a smile on her counten-

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 137

ance; with a good word for everybody who came in
search of accommodation. She furnished me with
the fresh-water cray-fish which are now in my
museum. One day, her house-maid was somewhat
too attentive to my labours. I had finished the
dissection (which cost me three hours of labour),
of a very fine cray-fish, and had carefully placed
the shell on my table, with the useless carcass
apart from it;—and I left them there—having to
go into the town for a short half-hour. On my
return, | missed the shell of the cray-fish. Upon
enquiry, I learned that the house-maid had thrown
the shell into the kitchen fire, and left the carcass
for my own eating! ‘‘ Tantum ne noceas, dum vis
prodesse videto.”

Had Madame Van Gulpen been still at the
Dragon dor, I should not have changed my quar-
ters. But, time stole on her apace, just as it does
onme. Preferring ease to turmoil, she has retired
into private life, with ample means to soothe her
evening hour.

Latterly, I have sojourned at the spacious Belle-
Vue hotel, kept by Mr. Frank :—and I certainly
intend to do so, in every succeeding visit. His
accommodations are of the first order—his table
excellent, his attendance punctual, and his charges
moderate. I take leave of him, with the full con-

138 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

viction, that, all has gone on delightfully with me,
during my stay under his attractive roof; and my
two sisters-in-law who always accompany me, are
fully of the same opinion. |

I repair, every morning, a little before five
o clock to Mr. Groyen’s hot baths at St. Corneille,
in the Comphausbad. They are perfection itself,
for cleanliness, good arrangement, and a profusion
of linen for the use of the bather. I have fre-
quented these baths for many years, and I hold
them in great estimation.

A couple of minutes’ walk, from the Belle-Vue
hotél, brings you to the stately fountain, named
Eliza.

The architect, who ever he was, must have had
his profession at his fingers’ ends.

On viewing its columns, its pavement, its steps,
its site and its contour, the observer will pronounce
it a work of no ordinary excellence in beauty,
and in convenience for the public at large. All are
admitted gratis without fear of collision, without
any distinction of persons;—so wide are the
descending and ascending staircases, and so admir-
able are the arrangements.

Out of the mouths of two colossal and well
executed lions-heads, flow night and day, two
streams of these celebrated waters. In front of

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 139

them is a crescent-formed table to hold the mugs
and glasses ;—whilst betwixt it and the lions stand
two neatly dressed and well behaved young females
from the city. These serve all postulants, be they
rich or poor, or healthy or indisposed. No fee
is ever asked; but a little box stands on the table
ready to receive a mite from him whose heart can
feel for those who want it.

I know not who Eliza was, from whom this
fountain takes its name. But, certainly, the name
“Eliza” is a very pretty one, for a temple so
salubrious, and so resorted to as this is. A poet,
whilst sauntering through it, after his beneficial
glass of water, may fancy her to be a descendant
of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt;—she who con-
quered Julius Cesar, and caused Mark Antony
to slay himself. Or perhaps some Scottish stranger
full of the beauties in ‘‘ Thomson's seasons,’ may
imagine, that this unknown Eliza has come down
in a straight line from poor Lavinia, gleaning in
Palemon’s fields.

Romantic speculation apart, as to who Eliza
was, all must agree, that this fountain is the pride
and ornament of Aix-la-Chapelle; and that its
waters bring health to thousands who annually
resort to drink them almost boiling from the hons
mouths.

140 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

On digging the foundation for Eliza’s fountain,
the workmen came to a massive and irregular
stone, which is said to weigh seven or eight thou-
sand pounds. It is pronounced to be an aerolite.
But, when it fell to the earth, no historian has
as yet informed us; nor has any philosopher under-
taken to decide the place of its former residence.
Some think that it was in the moon. If so,
possibly the old man who was sent thither from
Scotland, for having been wicked enough on the
Lord's day, to gather a few sticks to heat his oven,
may know something about it. Neglected, and
nearly covered with summer weeds, it may be seen
in a court yard at the regency. A few marks by
the chisel, shew, that either visitors from afar,
or philosophers at home, have been at work to
get a sight of its component parts. But its amaz-
ing hardness seems to have put their efforts at utter
defiance,

Opposite to the regency, and nearly at the
bottom of a wide and comparatively new street,
is a spacious theatre with the nine muses well
ornamented in front.

To make room for this costly edifice wherein
to exercise nocturnal orgies, a venerable and
useful convent was levelled to the ground. Whilst
it was in existence, midnight prayers were offered

ow» OTIS ie ee
( Klar
PANY es:

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 14]

up to Heaven for the welfare of the city. Now,
on its sacred ruins, scenes of midnight mockery
are got up for the entertainment of modern world-
lings; who forego the soothing slumbers of
Morpheus, in order to perform unhealthy vigils at
the shrine of Melpomene. Thus does the body
triumph over the soul: leaving the soul lamenting.
Nightly supplications to our divine Maker, are
deemed superfluous ;—but nightly revels are of
vast import. ‘‘ Sic mundo stultus, qui tibi Christe
sapit.”

About a quarter of an hour's walk from Aix-la-
Chapelle is the once retired and pretty village of
Borgette; but, the railway, ever grasping giant
of modern speculation, has severed it in twain, and
scathed its former beauties ; whilst long chimneys,
inveterate destroyers of vegetation, rear their
unhallowed heads on every side. A sad change
indeed ;—and much for the worse. I speak feel-
ingly, having myself had to encounter by law, the
pestilential effluvium from the black chimneys
of a soap and vitriol establishment.

In the main street of Borcette, you come to
a bubbling up of waters, clear and pellucid as the
dew-drop on the thorn: and surrounded by a
brick wall about four feet in height to prevent
accidents. This enclosure may be truly styled

142 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

Dame Nature’s kettle of medicinal water, which
rises from earth’s unfathomable depth, so hot, that
you cannot keep your hand in it, for the lapse of
one minute without being scalded. A little apart
from this, is a reservoir of similar temperature;
and here the women come to wash their linen :
whilst another stream, issuing from a pipe, beyond
the already mentioned bubbling up of waters,
answers the same end ; and seems to be in universal
request. It would be difficult to determine whether
the washerwoman or the doctor are most interested
in this everlasting flow of heated waters in the
village of Borcette.

But, unfortunate Borcette has already lost a
portion of her finest features. I allude to the
trees, the noble appearance of which, captivated
me so much on my first visit to this rural spot.
They now appear in a sickly state, by being per-
petually exposed to the noxious vapours issuing
from the blackened chimneys; and many of them
have been laid low to make way for supposed
improvements in brick and mortar; witness the
new factories, and houses for the operatives.

Some mile, or perhaps two, from Aix-la-Chapelle
is Frankenstein, once the hunting fortress of
Charlemagne, the illustrious king and warrior.
Its ancient walls, its moat and huge massive tower

’

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 148

rising far above the other buildings, bespeak its
former consequence and pride. But, if it were
mine, it soon should disappear; for, there is
nothing left around it, to tell the best part of its
early story.

The moat, to be sure, is still there; but the
waters are filthy and stagnant; and in lieu of giant
oaks which once must have added grandeur to the
place, there now arises a miserable group of puny
and apparently neglected pine saplings; whilst
almost up to the very moat itself, long chimneys
crowd on chimneys; sure harbingers of splendour,
misery, and rags. ‘Tis said, that the wealthy
owner seldom allows the stranger a peep within
the tower; so, I did not solicit one, fearing a
refusal. The garden appeared neglected, and
replete with rank weeds. Probably it is not worth
attending to : for, if we may judge by the advances
which commerce has already made in the immediate
neighbourhood, the day cannot be far off, when
Flora and Pomona, hard pressed by Vulcan's
forges, will bid farewell for ever to the hunting
fortress of Charles the warrior king. Indeed, no
person of real taste, would regret to see this
grim hunting-tower laid low in dust. “Tis an
anomaly on the ground which it now occupies. Trade
and steam already, and bustling projectors hover

144 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

around, eager to pounce upon its site. Let them
have it. No longer the slain stag and wolf, as
in former days, are now borne within its portals.
The whole scene is a compound of incongruity
and misappropriation. The raven and the eagle
have taken flight for ever; and to their wild notes
has succeeded the tiresome hum of modern
machinery. Would you not grieve to see the
hunter-king surrounded, not by fiery steeds and
pointed javelins, but by speculators, brokers, and
attorneys ? putting you in mind of old Orpheus
the sweet musician, who was seen one day, with his
lyre amid a group of monkeys and of dancing dogs ;
so that, a spectator could not help ejaculating,

‘* How ill the dancing to the music suits !
Thus fiddles Orpheus, and thus dance the brutes.”

In the outskirts of Aix-la-Chapelle, are the orna-—
mented pleasure grounds of the Lousberg hill.
They do ample credit to the original hand that
traced them ; and to the regency which keeps them
in such excellent repair. Here, stands a monu-
ment to departed valour; and here is a spacious
hotél, replete with everything to comfort a weary
traveller; or to regale the pampered citizen.

"Tis here, on Sunday evenings, when gentle
zephyrs blow, and nature blooms around, that

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 145

multitudes assemble, to enjoy their innocent
recreation.

The large open space in front of the hotél, is
covered with little tables for tea and coffee ; whilst
music resounds through the wood; and seems to
produce in all present, a calmness, and a gentle-
ness, and a possession of soul, truly captivating
to the accidental traveller, even be he from that
rigid region where a single gambol in the street
on the Lord’s-day, is gravely considered a most
unjustifiable scandal.

The protestant government in Prussia, wiser
than our own, and possibly with just as much
of religion in it, very properly sanctions this
harmless termination of the sabbath day. The
people themselves cannot possibly imagine that
they offend the Deity by a caper or a whistle.
They have all attended morning service in their
spacious churches ;—they have heard a sermon ;-—
they have been at vespers or afternoon prayer; and
they see no harm in terminating the sacred day,
as I have described above. They prefer a little
harmless merriment in the open air, to an assem-
blage of friends indoors; amongst whom it
sometimes happens, that the peccadillos of neigh-
bours are occasionally the theme of conversation ;
and the holy book laid aside, for a few words on

0

146 ATX-LA-CHAPELLE.

projects for the following days, or for arrangements
touching aristocratic pastimes. Such people had
better be dancing on the green to the sound of
the shepherd’s rural pipe.

All animals are on the stir at the approach of
evening. Go, for example, through a town or
village, and you will see every child in motion.
The dogs are romping with each other; and the
old women gadding to and fro, with pipes in their
mouths; whilst birds of all descriptions, become
lively and vociferous. With this before my eyes,
provided I have performed to the best of my power,
all the sabbatical duties ordered by the Church,
IT must confess, that I do not like to be within
doors on a fine Sunday evening; but prefer a little
glee and pastime in the open air. So, I often sally
forth, humming to a merry tune, “viva la joia,—
fidon la tristessa.”

As you stand on the Lousberg, at a little opening
amongst the ornamental trees, you have a fine
view of the cathedral :—an enormous pile of ancient
piety! Formerly, it must have contained treasures
of incalculable value in its inmost recesses; whilst
on its outside, you cannot contemplate the moul-
dering remains of its sculpture and its statues,
without astonishment at the grandeur of the
design, and the liberality of donors, who effected

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. baz

its completion. But time, and theft, and treason
united, have cruelly done almost irreparable injuries
to this mighty pile of human skill and pious
generosity. The first time I beheld it, about
thirty years ago, it appeared in woeful dilapidation
and distress. But now it rises nobly from its
SOLTOWS.

The chief enemy after time, who brought so
much grief and unsightliness upon it, was a neigh-
bouring power. ‘The general approached it, with
the enticing words — Liberty, Equality, and
Fraternity emblazoned on his banners. This trick
succeeded to admiration, and he found no difficulty
in getting possession of the town.

Let our modern Piedmontese people take
warning, lest royal rapacity at home, in imitation
of our own Saint Harry the Eighth, and diplomacy
from abroad, turn all upside down, and make them
believe, that the moon is made of cream cheese.

The funds of this fine old temple, were plundered
under the plea, that the audacious invaders were’
in want of money. Its finest and most costly
ornaments were pronounced to be too good for it.
They were taken down and sent off, to decorate
a foreign capital; whilst, pro pudor! the invaders
and invaded, were observed to embrace each other
with fraternal hug. 7

OR

148 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

This brings to mind, the fable of the fox and
geese. Geese, unlike ducks, feed by day, and
sleep at night. Now, Reynard observing a flock
of these simpletons just ready to take rest for the
night, invited them to spend the morrow with him.
They accepted his invitation, During the course
of the following day, Reynard remembered that his
grandmother's bed-pillow required new stuffing.
So, as her means were but moderate, and feathers
uncommonly dear, he made bold to pluck all his
dupes; and then apologising to them, for the
urgency of his case, he assured them that their
valuable lives would be spared.

On the floor, just under the dome of this aged
cathedral, is a colossal tomb-stone, with simply
these two latin words cut upon it, “Carolo Magno,”

serving as Sterne says of poor Yorrick’s grave, —

“both for his epitaph and elegy.” But, the
remains of Charles the Great, do not lie under-
neath it. The bones of this renowned warrior,
statesman, and Christian, have long been removed,
and placed near the holy relics, which render this
venerable pile, perhaps the most interesting church
of all Germany. |
The space of a whole folio volume, would
scarcely be enough to contain an exact account,
of the wonders attached to the antiquated cathedral

ea

AIX-LA CHAPELLE. 149

of Aix-la-Chapelle. My reader must consult the
page of history. He will find there, what I am
unable to recount :—for my time is mortgaged,
and time flies on apace.

The Town-hall of this city, stands on the top
of a hill, shewing weather-beaten turrets of very
ancient architecture; the civic authorities being
busily engaged in restoring that, which time and
neglect have so visibly caused to go to ruin.

In front of the building, but not quite in the
centre, is a most mugnificent marble fountain,
surmounted by a bronze statue of Charles the Great.
Here the warrior stands,—armed for battle,—and
has triumphantly weathered for centuries, the heats
of summer, and the blasts of winter.

One day, the fraternising strangers already

mentioned, bethought themselves, like Reynard

with his geese, that their own capital was sadly
in want of a remarkable statue, and some other
trifles. So, they made bold to lower king Charles
from his high situation, where he had stood for
many centuries ; and having packed him up, they
thought that they might just as well lay hold of
a fine bear which, for ages, had stood guard at
the postern door of the cathedral: and these two
exquisite specimens of olden workmanship, were
actually bundled off, on their travels to the south.

heal

150 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

By a wonderful turn of good luck, which seldom
happens to kidnapped objects, the fraternising

strangers, at last, got the worst of itin a tremendous ~

battle. This terrified them; and during a fearful
commotion in their own disordered capital, both
the king and the bear managed to escape from their
thraldom, and found means to occupy once more,
the very positions from which they had been so
imprudently dislodged by fraternising cupidity.
‘Here, they are again, on their proper pedestals :—
Charles at his fountain, and Bruin at his cathedral
door ;—the pride of the town, and the admiration
of every passing visitor. So runs the story ane
may be true or false. |

Although the hardy warrior stands too high
upon his fountain, to admit of a close inspection,
still he appears to me at a distance, to have borne
the fatigue of his travels tolerably well. But it
is not so with the bear. He has brought back
with him two most abominably ill-executed fore-
legs: so, I conclude by these, that he must have
had a break down, somewhere upon the road, and
suffered amputation.

On each side of Charlemagne’s statue, upon
pedestals which in themselves, constitute real
fountains, you see eagles with extended wings.
At some very remote date, these royal birds must

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. Pel

have been splendid specimens of ornithological.
casting. The plumage now is tattered and sorely
weather-beaten. Unless some restoring hand come
shortly to their aid, in the course of a few years.
more, they will be totally disabled from keeping
company with their renowned chief.

One would hope, upon a retrospection of the
past, that the good people of Aix-la-Chapelle, have
had quite enough of fraternising with rapacious
foreigners; whose proferred liberty ended in posi-
tive slavery; and whose boasted equality, turned
out to be nothing but a shadow, when brought
in contact with the economy of civilised life.

Times are now mending at Aix-la-Chapelle.
Enormous operations are carrying on at the cathe-
dral; and equally so at the town hall. Let us
hope, that King Charles and both his eagles will
soon experience a first-rate repairer’s scientific touch ;
to which they are so justly entitled, on account of
their. beauty, their utility and their evident
antiquity. In passing through the market-place,
where fruit and legumes were exposed every day
in superabundance, I would spend an hour at this
truly royal fountain. It is beautiful even in its
ruins.

The regency having abolished all public gam-
bling, I find, that the grand saloon, where late the

152 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

card and ball attracted hosts of strangers, has now
become a place of fashionable resort, to read the
daily papers, and to soothe their cares with strains
of choicest music. There is a beautiful and
commodious garden attached to it.

Aix-la-Chapelle seems utterly bereft of fine
timber. How comes it, that a city so ancient
and so rich as this, cannot produce one single
solitary large son of the forest within its walls ? —

There seems, at the present time, a strong public
feeling to repair dilapidations, and to ornament
the streets with brilliant shops. Most necessary
improvements have already been effected,—much
for the public good.

Here I close my cursory remarks on the vene-
rable city of King Charles the Great; having
carefully avoided the penning down of matter,
which I consider to be the property of analysers,
physicians, and economists. I have consulted
no books; but have contented myself with com-
mitting to paper, that which attracted my notice
in my daily rambles through the streets. My
chief object has been to shew, that those who
travel far away into the continent, in quest of
restorative waters, might save themselves both
trouble and expense, by a sojourn at Aix-la-
Chapelle, where everything is found, that can

Vie ce
a

AIX-LA-CHAPELLE. 153

conduce to health, to comfort, and to rational

enjoyment. :
Traveller! whoever thou art, fear not, the vile

garotter, or the midnight thief. Such characters

are unknown in Aix-la-Chapelle. Neither will you
see chalked on the walls, any words of obscenity
and disgust. Nor, will you encounter drunkards
in the streets, nor need you have any fear of
pick-pockets, nor of those who may make a preda-
tory attack upon you, even in open day.

Every morning, before five o'clock, I was inva-
riably in the streets, where, at that early hour,
I saw numbers of people passing on to the cathedral
to hear Mass, and say their morning prayers,
before they commenced their usual and their daily
labours. My favourite church, dedicated to St.
Nicholas, was generally crowded with devout
people for the celebration of the first Mass at
six oclock; after which, other Masses succeeded
at every half-hour until noon. ‘This sacred temple
is remarkable for the beauty and correctness of
its sanctuary, which is adorned with the master-
pieces of several distinguished and well-known
artists. St. Nicholas is served by the learned and
indefatigable fathers of the Society of Jesus.

Adieu, Aix-la-Chapelle. I own, I do like to
pay an annual visit to thy honest people. Although

154 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

in excellent health, I drink freely of thy refreshing
waters, and plunge daily into thy hot baths. They,

no doubt, add strength and flexibility to my

muscles and my tendons, which, he who shall read
the continuation of my autobiography, will learn,
have suffered somewhat, from the effects of temerity:
and misadventure, but are now restored to am
elasticity, as though I had only just passed the

prime of life.

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

““ CANIBUSQUE SAGACIOR ANSER.”’

THE above quotation informs us, that the Roman
poet Ovid, evidently considered the goose to be
superior in sagacity to the dog. We, wiser in our
generation, have been taught otherwise ;—for when
a man cannot exactly comprehend our meaning,
we lose temper, and call him a goose. But when
aman shews brain in ferreting out a dubious case,
we declare that he has the sagacity of a hound.
It appears then, in our times, that as far as
sagacity 1s concerned, the dog is superior to the
goose.

I propose not to give a detailed account of the
dog family, even were it in my power, and I had
the time to spare; because this family is most
numerous, whilst its varieties may be considered
as nearly endless.

My object is to treat the subject] nomen
avoiding the introduction of hard names, and

156 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

repudiating refined classification; which last I
willingly leave to those learned naturalists, whose
unwearied researches, and consummate knowledge
will enable them to decide, why a sparrow hops,
and why a wagtail walks.

I merely intend to touch lightly upon the
virtues and vices of dogs in general ; and to look
at them, in their state of nature on one hand,
whilst, on the other, I consider them as obedient
slaves under the iron rule of man ;—but, in both
positions, I absolutely deny to all dogs, the faculty
of reasoning. Reason is due to man alone. Yes,
man alone exerts it, and he alone is entitled. to it.
It is indeed, his just prerogative, instilled into him
by the hand of Omnipotence at the time of his
creation in Paradise; and the exercise of it, con-
stitutes him by pre-eminence, the Lord of this our
magnificent planet. It is the exercise of reason
which elevates him above all created beings; and
it is the want of it, that places every other animal
infinitely below him. I prove it as follows.

Take a dog for example. Teach him everything
that you wish him to learn, and gain his affection
by the most unbounded kindness on your part ;
so that, the animal will make every attempt to
be your constant companion—and in case of attack,
will defend you to the utmost of his power. Now,

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 157

supposing that this favourite dog receives a bad
wound, and that he comes up to you, with his
wound bleeding apace. You attend to it; you
rectify it; you puta plaster on it, and then you
turn him loose. If the dog were endowed with
reason, he would value the plaster; and knowing
that it was for his good, he would do all in his
power to keep it in its right place, just as you and I
would do.

But, no.—Reason is not within him. The wound
gives him pain ;—the plaster presses it too much ;
and immediately, the dog, with his teeth and feet,
tears all asunder: making bad worse. The more
the wound torments him, the more he will strive to
get quit of the plaster. He has no conception
whatever, that the plaster has been put upon his
wound by a kind master, in order to effect a cure.
He cannot contemplate a cure. He will bite the
injured part so soon as it begins to itch; and if
the itching should continue, he will tear all up,
unless the master should prevent him. There is
no denying this. It is the case with all irrational
animals, from the mouse to the mastodon; and
it proves incontestibly, that the dog, although more
susceptible of education, in certain matters, from
the hand of man, than all other animals put
together, the elephant not excepted, still, is far,
far removed from the rank of a rational being.

id8 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE..,

The dog, although particularly gifted by nature
with a disposition, which enables him to receive
impressions to a certain amount, even in some
instances, bordering as it were, on reason, will
exhibit nothing in his wild state, to exalt him.
above the surrounding animals. No, not above
the ass itself. He must submit to the rule and
dominion of rational man, in order to excel the
surrounding brutes.

To man alone, he is indebted for an education.

Under man, he becomes docile, affectionate,
obedient, and surprisingly useful. The Spanish
shepherd, who always precedes his flocks in their
route across the mountains of Andalusia, places
his huge white guardian-dogs in the rear, never
doubting of their fidelity.

In fact, the dog has received from the hand
of Omnipotence, a disposition that can be modelled
into almost anything short of reason. JBut, at
reason, his instructor must stop. Itis beyond the
power of man, to impart it to the dog. Man may
strive his utmost to effect it, but he will always fail
in the attempt.

Why some of the brute animals are more sus-
ceptible of educational impressions than others,
is a secret to us mortals; and it will for ever be
one. But, this much we know, that, if we wish to

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 159

have an animal, which will be the constant com-
panion of man,—his safeguard in danger, his
assistant in necessity, and his slave in obedience,
we must apply to the family of the dog in its
reclaimed state. In no other class of quadrupeds
can such a treasure be found.

Take the mule, that is, half horse, half ass, and
try your best to mould him to your will. In nine
times out of ten, you will fail. Neither harshness
nor gentleness will enable you to break his stub-
born disposition ; and although you may now and
then succeed in overcoming his temper for a while,
he will set you at defiance in the long run.

When I was on the west coast of Demerara,
I rode a mule in preference to a horse; and I took
a kind of pride in my choice, because no other
person seemed inclined to engage him. He was
a cream-coloured and a beautiful animal; and had
been imported from the Orinoco, to work in the
cattle-mills of the sugar plantations. I gave him
the name of Philip. At times, he went quietly
enough ;—but every now and then, he would shew
who had been his father; and you would fancy
that the devil of stubbornness had got entire pos-
session of him. He was never able to dislodge me
from the saddle except once ; and then, being oft
my guard, he pitched me “neck and crop,” as the

160 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

saying is, over his head. A large brown wasp of
the country, had issued from its nest under a
wooden bridge, over which we were going, and
stung him in the face. Hence the true cause of
the fracas. I don’t think it would have happened,
but for the wasp; as Philip was, by no means
frisky that morning ; and we were going gingerly
along.

I remember well the circumstance on _ this
account, my head came in contact with the
ground ; and when I arose, I staggered and fell,
three times, feeling much confused. So, I sat
me down on the side of the wide trench which
flanked the highway; and when composure was
restored, took out my lancet, and drew some twenty
ounces of blood from my arm. This prevented
bad consequences ;—and put all to rights.

Another time, Philip seemed particularly prone
to mischief. I prepared for a storm—and the mule
made a dead stop. It brought to my mind the
affair which Sterne had with his own mule, in the
“Sentimental Journey.” “‘ Philip,” said I, “I can't
afford to stop just now, as [ have an appointment ;
so pray thee, my lad, go on.” “I wont,” said he.
‘“ Now do, my dear fellow,” said I, patting him on
the shoulder, as I spoke the words; “we must
not remain here, a laughing stock to every passing

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 161

nigger. Philip declared that he would not move
a peg. “Then, master obstinacy,’ said I, “‘ take
that for your pains; and I instantly assailed his
ears with a stick which I carried in lieu of a whip.
“It won't do,’—said Philip, “ I'm determined not
to go on; —and then he laid him down ;—I keep-
ing my seat on the saddle, only moving in it,
sufficiently to maintain an upright position ; so
that, whilst he lay on the ground, I appeared like a
man astride of a barrel.

Nothing would induce the mule to rise. Niggers
in passing by, laughed at us; some offering assist-
ance.

Here a bright thought came into my head. The
swamps of Demerara, being below the level of
the sea at high water, each plantation has a
sluice to effect a drainage when the tide goes out.
An old nigger lives in a little hut, close by the road
side, and he has the sluice under his charge. He
was standing at the door grinning at us, with
his mouth wide open from ear to ear. “‘ Daddy,”
said I, “‘ bring me a fire stick.” “‘ Yes, massa,” said
he ;—and then he drew one, hotly blazing from his
fire. “ Put it, red hot as it is, under Philip's tail.”
He did so; and this was more than Philip's iron
nerves could stand. Up he started ;—the hair of
his tail, smoking and crackling like a mutton chop

P

162 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

on a grid-iron. I kept my seat; and away went
Philip, scouring along the road with surprising
swiftness

From that day forward, although he had a dis-
agreeable knack of depressing his long ears and
elevating his rump, he never attempted to he down
with me on the public road.

Now, if I had had a dog instead of a mule to
deal with, the dog being of a pliant disposition,
might have required a little coercion on my part ;
and that would have been all. Whereas the mule
was equally callous, both to anodyne and harsh-
ness ;—and in order to reduce him to anything
in the shape of obedience, I was obliged to apply
the actual cautery; which means, in unsophisticated
English, nothing more nor less, than a red hot
poker.

Were I asked an opinion, concerning the pedigree
of dogs, I should say, that the entire family of
the dog, may safely be reduced to one species only;
that species consisting of innumerable varieties; so,
that, barring size, individuals of all these varieties
would intermix, and produce productive issue.

No matter whether we place a cur at the head
of the list, or a hound at the foot of it, there
will be offspring m abundance; and the size
of that offspring, will depend upon the size of

NOTES ON’ THE DOG TRIBE. 163

its parents, “fortes creantur fortibus;” whilst its
appetites, and the texture of its hair, will mostly
depend upon climate, time, and education. Thus
let us take a fox hound. There is no puppy
whelped a genuine fox hound. But, size and speed
having been imparted to him by his parents, his
profession through life, will entirely depend upon
the manner in which he has been brought up by
man. When first introduced on the field of Nim-
rod, his natural propensities will urge him to pursue
the stag, the hare, the rabbit, and the fox. But,

as he has to be an accomplished fox hound, and

nothing else, the huntsman, with an awfully long
whip in his hand; and with the emphatically
pronounced words of ‘‘ ware rabbit,—ware hare,”
in his mouth, will, in due time, make the unedu-
cated brute comprehend, the he is destined to
become a thorough-bred fox hound ; the pride and
delight of his country lord; and that he must for
ever give up all yearning to hunt and worry, any
quadruped that may start up in his path; the fox

alone excepted ;—and this wily animal must be

pursued by him in a pack, over hill and dale,

through brooks and across quagmires, so long

as he has a leg to support him in the chase. Any-
thing short of this, would expose his instructor
to. the opprobrium and reprimands of that. society of

Pp 2

164 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

gentlemen, who in top boots, and scarlet coats, are
now known, as far as Rome itself, to be genuine
English fox hunters; although, the dull rustics
of Italy, cannot yet clearly comprehend, why dogs
should come so far, and foreigners be so eager
to kill a few insignificant foxes. But, these Italian
peasants are a remarkably dull race. Thus, if you
tell them that archbishops and bishops in England,
of the Church by law established, receive a retiring
pension of £5000 per annum, until their death,
positively these boors will not believe you.

Now, this fox-hound here in Great Britain,
would probably be a sledge dragger in the country
round Hudson's bay; or it might possibly serve
as a lap-dog for the knee of some Patagonian
giantess. Or, suppose this British fox-hound to have
married an Italian greyhoundess, their whelps might
be prime lurchers, which are a race of dogs some-
what injurious to us country squires, but, in high
reputation amongst that very harmless and respect-
able class of men, usually denominated poachers.

These lurchers, in their turn, might have puppies
innumerable; all differing in size and shape, and
disposition. Were these animals not under the
control of man, they would still all be dogs, but in
nowise a benefit to him, neither in the capacity of
sheep drivers, watch dogs, turnspits, mastiffs, or
hounds.

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 165

In a word, all untrained dogs may be considered
as worthless outcasts, possessing no good qualities
whatever. Whereas, on the other hand, dogs
which have been trained by man for certain pur-
poses, are of vast utility to him; and with a few
drawbacks, may be considered in the light, both
of friends and companions.

I cannot be persuaded, that, dogs existed in
South America, ere that country was discovered
by the Europeans. See the “‘ Wanderings.’

Dogs and cattle must have been imported. Still,
how has it happened, that the breed of cattle,
originally from Europe, should now positively
swarm in America; whilst the dog, from the same
country, is but a solitary animal; increasing cer-
tainly, as individuals, in the civilized parts, but no
where to be found in those where man is not
located ? :

The question is easily answered. Cattle are
gregarious by their own nature ;—but, dogs are
not. What!—dogs not gregarious, when we see
packs of them in the hunting grounds; and when
we read of congregated dogs, and their cousins the
wolves, tearing unfortunate travellers to pieces;
and eating them up; are these dogs not gregarious ?
No :—not in the true sense of the word.

I hold it as a maxim, (whatever naturalists may

166 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

think to the contrary,) that all herbaceous: animals
are gregarious; but that carnivorous ones, do not
come under that denomination.

Packs of hounds are artificial; being entirely
the work of civilized man; and as man is endowed
with reason, he has it in his power to supply these
assembled dogs with food. But, supposing these
dogs had neither food nor commander?—In their
hunger, they would worry the flocks, and fight for
the plunder ; and when the flocks were all destrvyed,
each dog would take off in a seperate direction,
for something more to eat.

But, this is not the case with herbaceous
animals. ‘Their food is always before them. Hach
individual can have as much to eat as his compan-
ion; and we never see them quarrelling for a
choice morsel, as they wend their way, through
boundless tracks of pasturage. Hence, the cattle
tribe can assemble in flocks, and graze the plain,
unmolested by each other; whilst the dog would
not be safe from the fangs of his own father, over
the first shoulder of mutton which lay on the
ground under their noses.

I have heard and read much of dogs and wolves
hunting in packs,—but believe it not. The very
appetite of a dog constitutes it a solitary animal in
its wild state. Let me ask the question: how

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 167

could a wild dog hunt for food in company, with
any chance of sufficient profit to itself? Fancy a
pack of them, in full cry, after a zebra in Africa.
The zebra is overpowered by them, and down it
falls. First come, first served. The strongest
and the fleetest get all ;—all is consumed before
the slow and the weak members of the pack can
get up. There is nothing for them that day ;—
pretty encouragement, forsooth, in a new hunting
expedition on the morrow.

But, where is the sojourn of ever barking, growl-
ing, and carnivorous dogs in the forest? Will
antelopes and kine, and wild asses, remain in a
neighbourhood infested by such an assemblage of
quarrelling quadrupeds? No doubt, they would
retire far away, for self-preservation; and the
farther they retired, the longer would the dogs
be in finding something for their own craving
stomachs. When at a great distance from their
supposed retreat, what master-dog will take upon
himself to organise the pack ?—and when the hard
day's hunting is over, how will he dispose of his
confederates? Are the females, which remained
behind on the hunting morning, in order to take
care of their newly-whelped pups, supposed to wait
In anxious expectation, that some generous hound
will return with a neck of goat in his mouth,

168 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

for their support? Certainly, if dogs be grega-
rious, and hunt for food in packs, the system
appears very imperfect, and is somewhat against
the order of nature, by which the dog can always
find sufficient food in the wilds, when he is a
solitary individual; but must be sorely pinched
at best, and often deprived of the means of obtain-
ing it, when congregated, and scouring the country
in large, and quarrelsome, and famished packs.

Civilized man can easily find food and shelter
for his packs of hounds; but there is no such
provision in ihe regions where dogs run wild.
Accidental food is all that these last can find.
Were wild dogs to hunt in packs, the daily supply
of food, would not be sufficient to satisfy the
cravings of every individual; and to prevent star-
vation, the pack would soon be obliged to separate,
and each dog to hunt for itself.

The lon, a carnivorous animal, springs upon
his prey from a lonely ambush; and has no com-
petitor. So it is with the tiger; and so, I have
no doubt, it must be with the wild dog :—because»
by stealthy approaches, and in silence, the neigh-
bourhood is not alarmed;—and herds which
constitute the food of carnivorous animals, would
not be driven from their native haunts, But, let
a pack of hungry dogs make one or two attacks

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 169

upon the congregated multitudes of herbaceous
animals, and then we may rest assured that these
last would take the alarm, and would fly for ever
from their once peaceful abodes.

So that, we may consider it a most wise pro-
vision in the economy of nature, that, on account
of food alone, herbaceous animals should be
gregarious, and carnivorous ones, the solitary
inhabitants of countries where Omnipotence has
ordered them to range.

Ido not deny, but that half-a-dozen individuals
of a canine family, occasionally may be observed
in the act of scouring along a plain, or traversing
a wood in company :—for I myself have counted
two old stoats with their five half-grown young
ones, crossing the road before me, as in quest
of something. Another time, some thirty years
ago, before the park wall was finished, I had a.
brood of foxes in a stony thicket. One evening,
towards the middle of autumn, as I was sitting
on a bank, with my loaded air-gun waiting for
rabbits, the two parent foxes and five young ones,
all in a line, passed before me, not more than
fifty yards distant. I remained fixed as a statue.
They were cuntering away, when one of the
young foxes spied me. He stopped and gave
mouth. This was more than I could bear ; so, as

170 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

he was sitting on his hind quarters, I took aim
at his head, and sent the ball quite through the
wind-pipe. Away went the rest, and left him to
his fate. Now had these been wolves instead of
foxes; and had some timorous person been in
my place, I feel convinced, that his fears would
have increased the number of wolves; and he

would have considered it a most narrow escape —

from being worried alive by a large pack of these
ferocious animals.

Foxes are invaluable in England; and they are.

never to be disturbed, except by a pack of fall-bred
hounds. When J reflect on the wanton and wilful
murder I then committed upon so cherished a quad-
ruped, my heart mis;ives me; and I fancy, somehow
or other, that the sin is still upon my conscience..

Again, a wild dog hunting for his daily food,
may, perchance fall in with one or two others on
the same errand, as is the case with the aura
vulture, whose habits I have described at large,
when I was attacked by Audubon and his friends,
for daring to assert, that this bird had been gifted
with a most sensitive nose.

Although nothing can be said in favour of the
dog whilst in a state of nature, still, after he has
‘received an education from man, the whole world
will bear testimony to his immense value. Volumes

ee ae pee

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. VAL

would not suffice to contain instances of his
services to the human race. A man and his dog,
may almost be considered as component parts,
each working for the other, whether in heat, or
im cold, in tempests or in calms. The blind
confide in him,—the lame have his support,—the
rich are proud of him; and, too often, the poor
man has nothing but his dog to give him
consolation.

From the stately hound of Cuba, (by the way,
Cuba is not its original country) down to the little
insignificant lap-dog snoring on a ladys knee,
the tribe of dog is serviceable to man.

But, how, one would ask, can the lap-dog be
serviceable ?—a little snappish, snarling, ricketty
thing, not bold enough to attack even a Hano-
verian rat.

In truth, I feel shy in alluding to the occasional
services of this pampered favourite. One really
wonders, how our elegant ladies with robes of
Tyrean dye, and gloves as white as drifted snow,
should ever fancy such apparently unuseful little
brutes as these, and take them in their arms with
fond caresses. Still, let me do themjustice. They
really have their uses.

In some years we have a heavier crop of house-
hold fleas, than in others; and when this occurs,

[%2 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

these puny tormentors are said to prefer the skin
of the lap-dog to that of the lady. Strange taste!
not easily to be accounted for.

Lap-dogs are well known to be vigilant watchers,
both in the night and during the day; and really

their services are valuable in these times of diurnal.

robbery, when members of what is called the swell-
mob, will walk coolly into a house, and carry
off all the silver used at breakfast. A lap-dog
seems to be ever on the watch, although its eyes
be closed, apparently by sleep. It starts, and
gives mouth at the slightest noise, and is thus
the means of frustrating many an attempt at
robbery.
_ Lap-dogs are better in the house than out of it ;
for, when they are allowed to run loose, they
sometimes become very nasty by having rubbed
themselves in the first piece of carrion in their way.
Again, all dogs have a natural and disagreeable
scent coming from them, quite different from that
of all known animals. Soap and brushes may
subdue it for the moment, but it will return when
these are discontinued. If you were blindfolded,
and one hundred different animals were pre-
sented to your olfactory regions, with ten dogs
amongst them, you would not fail to recognise the
ten dogs, as soon as they were placed under your
nose.

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 173

Not long ago, our dogs were used to draw the
poor man’s vehicle;—but this privilege seems
lately to have been withdrawn by an order from
the magistrates, on the score of cruelty ; although,
in every surrounding country, we observe dogs
dragging little carts ; and I myself can testify, that
I have never seen a lame dog in harness. France
and Belgium are famous for the breed of dogs
to be used as horses.

If the modern Solons, who have deprived the
poor man of this ancient privilege of using his dog
in carts, had studied well the nature of a dog’s
foot, they would have seen, that each toe is move-
able ; and that the whole foot, as well as every toe,
is admirably defended by a very thick and tough
skin, quite adapted to walk on pavements or
macadamised roads. Moreover, the dog in harness,
has no superincumbent weight, pressing on his
withers, as is the case with the horse, when a man
is astride of it. The act, forbidding to the poor
man, the use of his dog to draw a little cart, is
a bad one, and ought to be repealed.

I once witnessed in the streets of Ghent, a most
laughable fray, betwixt two kitchen-garden women,
and two dogs. By bad driving, these worthy
dames had let their dogs get too near each other.
A desperate fight ensued. he carts were upset, —

174 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

the legumes trodden underfoot; and the dogs
worrying each other; whilst the drivers, stick in
hand, mixed obstinately in the raging battle, each
trying to rescue and preserve her own property ;
to the infinite amusement of the surrounding
spectators.

Having contemplated the family of the dog, when
wild in the woods, and also, when under the
tutelary hand of man; and shewn how serviceable
it is to him, if fully trained, and in proper hands ;
I will finally consider it, in another point of view,
which is anything but favourable to it. There
is a stain on its character, fixed and unalterable ;
which like the blood-spot on the hand of Lady
Macbeth, can never be removed; even though
Galen, with all his knowledge, and Hippocrates,
with all his drugs, could return from the grave,
and direct their energies to this one individual
point.

I allude to canine madness, commonly called
hydrophobia.

As nobody seems to know anything concerning
the real nature of this terrible malady, saving that
it has its origin in the dog; and that, by the bite
of the dog, it 1s communicated to other animals ;
any speculation on my part, would be quite
superflucus. ‘The wolf too, and the fox, both

aes ok
biaee i
a

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. PTO

cousins-german to the dog, are strongly suspected
to produce hydrophobia, and to moculate others
through the medium of the tooth.

When a man has received a mortal wound, and
it has been pronounced mortal by his attending
surgeon, he knows the worst. His solicitor
arranges his temporal affairs; and his father-
confessor prepares him for that awful change which
death must soon produce. But, a man bitten by
a mad-dog, although in fact, the wound is a mortal
one at the moment of the bite, still, this poor
unfortunate victim, may be doomed to live in
suspense for weeks, and months, and even years.
And when death at last comes to his relief, the
surgeon who opens the body for inspection, will
find nothing there, to indicate disease. Nay, the
most singular part is, that the defunct was enabled
to exist in perfect health, and to perform all the
ordinary duties of life, as though all were right
within him :—whereas, in truth, death was within
him, and ready to strike the fatal blow, at the
period, perhaps, when the man himself had
forgotten that he had ever been bitten. Although
some people who have been bitten by a mad dog,
live under great apprehensions of their fate ; others
have been known to labour under hydrophobia,
without being the least aware of its origin.

176 NOTES OF THE DOG ‘TRIBE.

Who then can define the nature of this woeful
disease ?—so invisible, and for a length of time, so
harmless and so quiet in the body of its victim ;
but so outrageous and so incurable when it does
at last break out. This ought to warn incautious
people, how they become too familiar with any of
the dog-family.

As regards myself, having been once in jeopardy,
I own that I have no great desire to see dogs in my
house. Firstly: the disease alarms me. Secondly :
I don’t like to have my furniture bedewed every
time that a dog passes to and fro. Thirdly: the
yelping of a dog, on a stranger's arrival, is very
disagreeable to my ears; and fourthly: dogs, by
prying into every bush and- corner, are sure to
drive. the wild birds far away. Under these
considerations, | appropriate to dogs their proper
domicilium, which is the kennel. Mine is parti-
cularly clean and commodious.

Many years have now elapsed, since the dog and
the Hanoverian rat, were forbidden to pass the
threshold of my house.

‘I have heard of a professional gentleman in the
north, who doubts the existence of hydrophobia.
Facts, they say, are stubborn things. I have seen
too much myself to doubt that such a malady does
prevail : although I know not how it is engendered ;

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. we

what are its component parts; or by what process
it brings death into the system. |
Dozens of letters are lying on my shelf to give
me information of the commencement, the action,
and the final termination of hydrophobia.
When I was a boy, I remember well to have
heard the case of the unfortunate Mrs. Duff. She ~

was so lovely in her appearance, and so perfect "ag

in her form, that she was pronounced to be the
perfection of beauty and symmetry. She had a
favourite. little lap-dog; and one day, it bit her
shightly. The wound was trifling, it soon got
well: and nothing more was thought about. it.
But, at last, the fatal day of sorrow dawned
upon the family, and bade them prepare for the
worst. Symptoms of hydrophobia made their
appearance: paroxysm succeeded paroxysm; the
art of medicine failed to brin g relief, and this lovely
lady sank in death. She still is seen in well-
executed prints, which represent her standing on
a globe, with one foot barely touching it: she,
herself, in the act of ascending to “‘ another, and
a better world.” ,

More than half a century ago, my family had
a most narrow escape from a rabid dog. The story
is as follows.

A connection of ours was on a visit at Walton

Q

Live NOTES ON THE,DOG TRIBE.

Hall. He was a dog-fancier, and had purchased
a young terrier from a person who assured him,
that it had come from the Isle of Skye, in Scotland.
This of course made the dog more interesting,
than if it had been a mere Yorkshire whelp: so
that it was much caressed by every individual,
and it had the run of the house.

One morning, as his master and myself, were
going along the highway on horseback; suddenly, —
the pet-terrier took off at full speed, in a straight
line before us, and never swerved in the least,
either to the right, or to the left, so long as he
kept in sight. |

“I'm sure that dog is mad, said. I. ~ impos-
sible” replied his master; “we were all playing
with him, not two hours ago at breakfast.” ‘“ No
matter,” said I, “he is stark mad, and we shall
see no more of him to-day.’ I was right; and
we returned without him.

However, he made his appearance on the fol-
lowing morning, strong and healthy, to the infinite
joy of his master. But, I held to my first impres-
sion ; and it was some time before I could persuade
his master to let him be tied up. Seeing that
I was determined, he at last consented; and
forthwith the dog was secured in the stable, by
a new collar and chain. In the evening of that

=

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 179

very day, the terrier shewed symptoms of hydro-
phobia. He flew at me, every time that I opened
the stable door. Then, he would become exhausted,
and lie down on the straw,—and then up again,
and so on, till he lay unable to rise ;—and soon
after this, death closed the scene.

So far for the Skye-terrier tragedy. The farce
had soon to follow.

My poor mother was dreadfully alarmed at what
had just occurred. As every inmate of the house
had been in the constant custom of playing with the
dog, she imagined that mischief might be lurking
somewhere. Its saliva, might have fallen on a scar
which would receive the poison; or perhaps some
trifling abrasion might have been made by the
tooth, before the dog had shewn symptoms of
disease. No time was to be lost.

Everybody must have heard of the wonderful
Ormskirk medicine, for the cure of hydrophobia.
Our family-farrier was in possession of the secret ;
and he always kept the medicine by him. We
were all to be dosed:—servants and everybody
in the house. So, he came, and gave us the
instructions which were,—that we must take the
medicine fasting on the following morning, and
only eat a light collation for supper. Nothing
else.

Qk

180 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

A more nauseous antidote, I had never tasted.
Don Quixote’s balsam of Fierabras, which made
Sancho Panza so dreadfully sick at his stomach, was
nothing to it. Some of the patients had no sooner
taken it, than the stomach rejected it immediately. |
My interior being tough and vigorous, I managed to
keep it down. The medicine was bulky, and had
to be taken in warm beer ;— it was the colour
of brick-dust. ‘The result was most satisfactory ;
and for this very good reason: because nobody
had been bitten by the newly-arrived terrier from
the island of Skye in North Britain. I had a
beautiful little springing spaniel, the playfellow
of the terrier, and it was ordered to be hanged that
same evening, for having been in bad company.

A Duke of Richmond, Governor of Canada, died
raving mad in consequence of a bite in the cheek
from his tame fox. When I was in that country,
I went to the little rivulet, where the duke was
first attacked by hydrophobia. The officer who
accompanied me, said, that when his . Grace
attempted to pass the stream, he could not do so.
After successive, but unavailing trials, he gave
up the attempt; and he requested his brother
officers, not to consider him deficient in fortitude: ©
but really, the sight of the water gave him sen-
sations which he could not account for; and posi-

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 181

tively, he could not pass the rivulet. On = the
morning after, ere death had terminated his life,
it was told me, that he mistook for spectres, a
group of poplar trees agitated by the breeze, near
to the windows of his bed-room.

Both in the ‘‘ Wanderings” and in the “ Essays,”
I have spoken of the Indian wourali poison, as
a supposed cure, (I say supposed, because it
has never yet had a trial,) for hydrophobia. But
as the subject is one of vast importance: perhaps
I shall not do amiss, if I add here, a few plain
instructions.

Supposing a person has been bitten by a mad
dog. That person, may, or may not go mad.
But, should symptoms of disease break out, and
a@ competent practitioner in medicine pronounce
it to be undeniable hydrophobia, and the family
wish to have the wourali tried, I beg attention
to the following remarks.

Do not, I pray you, let any medicines be admin-
istered. The paroxysms will generally occur at
intervals, during two or even three days, before the
fatal catastrophe takes place. Lose no time in
telegraphing for Doctor Sibson, No. 40, Lower
Brook Street, London; and for Charles Waterton,
Walton Hall, near Wakefield, Yorkshire. We will
promptly attend.

182 NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE.

Let the patient be kept extremely quiet, and
every gentle effort used to soothe him, and to keep
him in good humour with himself;—but, again
I remark,—give no medicines. |

Once, Doctor Sibson and myself, were on the
point of applying the wourali. A fine young
collier had been bitten by a mad dog, atthe village
of Ardsley, near Wakefield.

We had reached the Oakenshaw station, when
information arrived that he had breathed his last.
We went to see him in his winding sheet. His
mother was inconsolable ;—and she wept bitterly as
we entered the house. She seemed to find relief
in talking of the disaster from its commencement
to the termination :—and when she had done, she
began to cry again,—and sobbed most piteously.
‘“His sufferings were long and terrible, and they
went to the bottom of her heart. She had never
left his bed side. He was the best of lads that
ever mother had. She would never see his like
again. His loss would carry her to the grave.”
And then she sobbed piteously and looked at him
as he lay, close by, in his winding sheet ;—and
again she looked at him, and then sank into a chair
crying bitterly, and lamenting her loss, in accents
that told her utter despair.

I have now done with dogs. The reader will

NOTES ON THE DOG TRIBE. 183

perceive, that I consider them to form one great
family, which is capable of having produce, of
all sizes, shapes and propensities; but entirely
without pretension to reasoning faculties. ‘That,
a dog uneducated in his own native wilds, is
nothing superior to the surrounding quadrupeds;
but that, when he has been educated, is_ well
taken care of, and is kindly treated, he becomes the
servant, the defender, and the associate of man
himself, the universally acknowledged lord of all
created things.

SCARBRO’.

“BALNEA NUNC COLE; MENS HILARIS, MODERATA DIETA.”

SCARBRO —gay town of Yorkshire's eastern
confines, I do admire thy site, thy walks, thy
sands, and thy environs :—for I never come to pass
a month amongst them, without enjoying all the
blessings of health and peace, and balmy ocean
breezes,—thine own inheritance.

Happily indeed for thee, no beds of coal lurk
underneath thy quiet surface; for wherever there is
coal in great abundance, it is sure to invite long
chimneys, from whose sable mouths volumes of
murky smoke rush out to poison Flora’s choicest
produce. At its fell touch, her plants turn pale
and wither. Her trees themselves, diseased and
blackened by unwholesome vapours, perish at last :
and when we cast our eyes around us, we see too
clearly, that these unsightly works of brick and
stone, are tolling vegetation’s parting knell, and
giving to the neighbouring fields, that melancholy

SCARBRO. 185

look, so well depicted by the Roman poet, “ Triste
solum, sterilis sine fruge, sine arbore tellus.”

It would ill become me as a Yorkshireman, to
have already told the public, what I lately saw and
felt at Aix-la-Chapelle, a foreign town; and then
to take no notice of thee, bright gem of my own
native county, as though thou wert of trivial regard,
and thy pure ocean breezes, mere transitory gales,
unworthy of remark.

Well then, here I sit down to write a word or
two, on pretty, healthy, sweet, and enchanting
Scarbro ; the boast of Yorkshire, and old Nep-
tune’s pride.

On the bold shore of this extensive county,
and opposite the distant realm of Denmark, stands
the rapidly increasing town called Scarbro’.

Its ancient streets, so narrow and so winding
bespeak its early origin. But, when we raise our
eyes, and view its modern edifices, we are lost in
wonder ; and wondering we ask, what is it that has
caused so great a change ?—what master-hand
has been at work, and made the town so beautiful ?
An answer is not difficult to find.

Steam, potent steam, perhaps the curse, perhaps
the anodyne of nations, has brought its “high
engendered forces” into action, and shewn what
ean be done. Railways have conquered distance.

186 SCARBRO .

This is the secret which has acted like a charm
on Scarbro’ ; and will ultimately give it a celebrity,
(but not through commerce) equal to that, which
Tyre of old acquired. |

Some years ago, if the inhabitants had foreseen,
that Scarbro’ ere long, would occupy a rank of
proud importance amongst our British watering
places, it appears by no means improbable, that
the modern bridge which now connects the cliff
with the adjacent hill, would have been thrown
open, as an unrestricted thoroughfare to all
the world. But at present, it is private property,
formed by a clever and enterprising company ; fully
secured to it by law and usage, and not to be
disturbed, upon any plea whatever.

This then, cuts off, from an uninterrupted use,
all those who do not subscribe to the regulation
which procures them the privilege of ambulation.

Cervantes, the immortal Spanish novelist, re-
marks, that there is a remedy for everything but
death. ‘“‘Hay remedio para todo, sino es, para
la muerte.” I will endeavour to prove this in the
sequel.

Again, whilst the southern range of land at
Scarbro’ is legally debarred from the use of the
public at large, we find the northern promontory,
commonly called the castle hill, equally out of their

SCARBRO. 187

enjoyment, except through courtesy ;—it being,
what is commonly called, government property.

Its ruined forts, its bastions, and its walls, are
now no longer wanted for the town’s protection ;
nor does any person entertain the notion, that in
times to come, they will ever be in requisition, in a
warlike point of view, either for advance, or for
retreat, or for protection.

Foreseeing how many thousands in the smoke-
producing districts, would be benefitted by an
annual scrubbing in Neptune's briny washing tub;
and knowing what profit the town itself would reap
from hordes of impure manufacturing pilgrims ;

provided that the capabilities of this romantic

promontory were turned to the best advantage ; let
us indulge the hope, that, the liberality of govern-
ment, upon a due and respectful application, would
place it at once, under the judicious direction of the

town authorities for general benefit, and free from

municipal contribution in any shape whatever.

This indeed would be an imperial donation ; and
it would afford to a grateful community, the liberty
of laying out the place, in beautifully winding
walks, and enchanting pleasure grounds.

Where mouldering walls are now “ nodding to
their fall,” and weeds in unproductive masses grow,
we should soon see thriving evergreens, and flowers

188 Hii SCARBRO.

in abundance raising their lovely heads; all proving

what the skill of man can do, when aided in its |

progress by discretion, and when properly sup-
ported.

The spacious land on the summit, would then
become a range of level ground, worthy of universal
approbation. The extreme verge of the promontory

itself, might easily be fenced at every dangerous —
point, with tasteful skill and at little cost, lest acci- —

dents might occur ; whilst on the most commodious

part of the level, there might be raised two simple

rustic fanes of ordinary architecture; each with

a different aspect :—that is, one of them open to

a northern view; and the other so constructed,
as to catch the sun’s warm rays; so that, blow
high, or blow low ;—fall rain or fall snow, as
the old saying has it, there would always be a

sheltered and a safe retreat to visitors, where they |

would be protected from the blasts of winter, and
the heats of summer; which last, I imagine, are

never very oppressive in this sea-girt island, so-

palpably notorious for its mists, and for its clouds.
Still, some people are of a very warm tempera-
ment, like those Esquimaux dogs, which, when

imported into this country, by Captain Ross, on his

return from the north pole, are said to have
papted and put out their tongues, when snow was

SCARBRO. 189

on the ground at Christmas. Now, I myself am a
_ quaker, (but not in religion) the year throughout ;

shaking for want of. sunshine. No atmospheric

heat is too oppressive for me. Whilst in the West

Indies, on the two days in the year, when the sun

was completely vertical at twelve o'clock, I would
_stand ; dereheaded, in order to receive the heliocen:
“trie rays as they darted down on the earth, without

“entertaining any fears of coup de soleil, or even of
headache. It is well, that we mortals are not all

cast in the same mouid.

Where, let me ask, is there another town in
all Europe, that can boast so fine, so rich, and
so sublime a view, as that from this promontory,
_ now nearly useless for warlike purposes ?

On one side of it, the distant hills in slow grada-
tion rising, teem with the various labours of Ceres
and Pomona; whilst Neptune on the other, lashes
its perpendicular base, with never-ceasing surges.
And on its summit stands the once lordly castle,
still awful in its ruins :—a warning lesson to the
looker on,—whoever he may be.

His hour of triumph, and his day of strength
must shortly have an end; and death will place his
perishing remains, lower than those before him.

Aye, and how successfully these huge fragments of
ancient fortification might be altered and embel-

190 SCARBRO.

lished by a tasteful hand, at very little cost. A grotto ©

here,—and a winding terrace there,—a shrubbery
below,—a columned fane above, fit for the muses ;
whilst seats, by choicest flowers surrounded, and
rocks with every kind of fern,—and rustic arches,
might all appear with marvellous effect. Here,
would the moralist employ his time,—the son of
Pheebus sound his lyre,—whilst the military man,
would read in the remaining ruins of this fortress,
what means were used for martial ends, before
the terrible discovery of gunpowder.

Here too, our softly sighing damsels, with sprigs
of rue and wormwood in their locks, might tell
their sorrows and their disappointments to the
pitying moon. The swain in melting accents,
might exclaim with the rejected Alcansor,

‘«‘ Canst thou, wilt thou, yield thus to them ?
Canst thou hold my love so small ?
No ;—ten thousand times [’ll perish,
My curst rival too shall fall.”

“ Canst thou, wilt thou yield thus to them ?
O break forth and fly to me;
This fond heart shall bleed to save thee ;
These fond arins shall shelter thee.”

Supposing then, that government in conjuction

with the elders of the town, should decide upon —

throwing open the entire extent of this noble

—

ee

SCARBRO. 191

promontory; it is scarcely in the power of man
to estimate the advantages that would accrue both
to the town itself, and to its visitors from this
magnificent donation.

Our national rulers seem now to be aware, that
it would be a truly patriotic deed, to appropriate
certain lands for public pleasure grounds. The
sooner the better. Health and contentment are
invaluable blessings.

Every person who has crossed the channel,
will have observed, no doubt, that places of this
description abound much more on the continent,
than here with us in Great Britain.

Taking leave of this time-stricken fortress of
the north, | will wend my way to the southern
point, at which an elegant bridge unites the cliff
to the opposite hill. This bridge, as I have
already observed, being strictly private, or con-
federate property, cannot be available for use,
without the payment of an indemnifying tribute,
by those who wish to pass along it.

When the Saracens of old, (mind, I do not wish
to compare these infidels with the worthy pro-
prietors of the bridge in question,) had deprived
the Christians of their usual] route to India, down
the river Euphrates, the enterprising King of
Portugal, turned his royal energies to the discovery

192 SCARBRO.

of another way, by the then undiscovered Cape of
Good Hope; and he was eminently successful.

Now, might not the town of Scarbro’ imitate
this good example, although upon a little scale.
She has fully the means to do so. Neither would
she anyways lessen the profits of the bridge; for
I feel quite assured, that, were a dozen roads laid
open to the present esplanade, this bridge would
always be attractive and triumphant:—such are
the charms to which it leads. The winding walks,
the beds of flowers, the castellated concert-room,
the spa, and the sea-commanding seats, would
never fail to gain frequenters, not from the town
alone, but, from all parts of the United Kingdom.

A highway, free from toll in any shape if
possible, ought to connect the railway with the
esplanade; and it must be sufficiently level to
counteract the precipitous descent of the road in
actual use. This would set everything to rights;
whilst the immense value of such a desirable road,
would be more and more apparent, each forth-
coming season.

This once effected, where is the man who could
prescribe a boundary to future plans and specu-
lation? Scarbro’ would increase in bulk, like unto
a growing giant: and, who knows, but that Oliver's
mount itself, under the directions of some modern

at

SCARBRO 193

eapability-Brown,* might unfold rural and horti-
cultural beauties equalling, or even surpassing
those of the Elysian fields at Paris.

But, it may be asked here, why advocate so
strongly, the advantage of alterations at the
northern and southern boundaries of the town,
when, land to any extent, can be purchased for
building, or for decorating projects, in quarters
remote from the sea? The answer is a plain one.

The very essence of a trip to Scarbro,, consists
in a view of the sea, and in the full enjoyment
of its bracing breezes. These two objects can
only be fully secured to lodgers, by building
apartments with their front to the ocean, whence,
pure and salubrious breezes would not fail to
reach them. Whereas, on the other hand, were
these apartments erected on sites not affording a
direct view of the sea, then, the wholesome breezes
would have to pass, sometimes through localities
of an impure nature ;—pig-styes and dog-kennels
to wit; and thus, the principal object of a visit
to the sea-side, might run the risk of proving
hugatory.

Few there are, who sufficiently appreciate the
value of breezes arising from the ocean. Like
the hound in chase, they are slow, but sure.

* A well-known former layer-out of grounds.
R

194 SCARBRO.

Often indeed the shattered frame of man receives
more benefit from them, than he does from the
daily use of Galen's patent medicines. |
When we keep company with gentlemen who
have passed their lives at sea, and who have resisted
temptations to licentiousness, we are astonished
at their hale appearance. I have been acquainted

——

with some of our British admirals, and have read

of many more, who were in health and vigor,
after having passed the good old age of eighty-two
years. J am confident, notwithstanding what some
people may say to the contrary, that these noble
British tars, owe their health to Neptune, and not
to Galen.

So, I should say, that all those who have it
in their power, ought once a year, at least, to spend
a week or two at the sea-side. And were I asked
to recommend a proper, and an entertaining station,
my answer would be,—go and visit Scarbro’.

If custom were not second nature, say, I pray
you, what would become of those who are doomed
to spend their lives, in districts of almost Cim-
merian darkness, which the smoke from long

chimneys has brought upon our manufacturing —

towns ?-—towns, in my own remembrance, enjoying
all the blessings of a once clear and pure atmo-

sphere, which at present is polluted by clouds of —
black smoke,—now driven along by the boisterous

SCARBRO. 195

wind,—now, falling to the ground under the
pressure of the rain and the mist, until life’s
every comfort is destroyed.

Look into the towns themselves. Not a pro-
jection there, is free from soot; not a particle of
clean paint is to be seen:—all, all is smoke,—
yellow, black and suffocating smoke, which stupifies
man’s soul the week throughout; aye, often on our
Maker’s sacred day of rest.

Then view the neighbouring fields. There is
not one healthy tree, to meet the wandering eye.
Those which remain, are sickly, wan and perishing.
In a very few years more, not a tree will be alive.
Blackened by the rolling smoke,—diseased in bark
and branch, they certainly continue to vegetate
for a while; but their death-warrant is signed.
Their tops become what is called stag-horned, and
they fairly die at last; and when cut into, they
shew no appearance of internal decay. Wherefore,
their misfortunes must have come upon them from
without. There, victims to pernicious vapours,
they stand to prove my words. ‘They are beacons
of desolation, to warn us advocates for sylvan
scenery, that we are in horribly bad company.
This is not imagination or mere hear-say. No
such thing. I myself have watched the progress
of the pest, and suffered through its ravages. Even

R 2

196 SCARBRO.

now, at this moment, many of my once vigorous
trees are sick and languishing. A botanist of
European reputation has assured me, that twelve
years must pass over, before they can recover their
pristine health.

A brisk trade being of vital importance, and the
power of steam assisting it at every step, these
towering pollutors of the atmosphere must compel
whole bodies of men, every now and then, to seek
a temporary change of atmosphere. The sea-side
will always be a desirable spot for these health-
injured people. Now, as Scarbro’ can be reached
in a few hours, at a trifling expense, from the farthest
boundary of the Yorkshire and the Lancashire
smoke-pest, I predict that there will be an increasing
annual influx of all ranks, from the thriving
operative to the brilliant cotton-lord. In fact,
Scarbro’ will become their northern star for pleasure
and for health.

If this interesting town shall continue to: make
preparations for the reception of visitors, on a more
extensive scale even than she has done hitherto,
it is probable that not a single house will remain
untenanted during the summer season.

Thus we see, that steam applied to locomotion,
has already worked wonders for Scarbro’, by
making her easy of access; so that, distant people,

SCARBRO., 197

who only a few years ago, never thought of paying
her a visit, will now come freely to enjoy the stores
which nature has so bountifully poured into her
lap. Scarbro’ is indeed a fascinating place. My
spirits always rise, on viewing its ancient castle
from the railway-station, on my annual visit to it.

Let the stranger, newly arrived at the esplanade,
on a fine summers morning, turn his eyes to the
sea on the south, and then, to the land on the
north, and say, if such a charming scene can be
surpassed.

After having crossed the bridge, he is at once
in the town, and can reach the sands by many
ways, and in a very short space of time: for
Scarbro possesses this wonderful advantage over
many other bathing-places, that you can be on
the strand and in the town, after a few minutes
walk. The town offers to its visitors in the way
of comfort, what would not be unacceptable to
royalty itself. ‘Thus, the accommodations in the
hotels are equal to those in London. I should
do an injustice to Miss Reid, of the Royal Hotel,
near the cliff, were | to omit the observation, that
I have always found her attention and arrange-
ments of the very first order ;—surpassed indeed,
by none in any hotel, where I have ever taken
up my quarters.

198 SCARBRO.

The museum under the ardent zeal of Mr.
Roberts has great attractions. All the warm salt-
water baths are remarkably clean and well attended.
I invariably frequent those of my old friend Mr.
Champley: and I seldom pass a day without
paying a visit to Mr. Theakston’s most excellent
establishment for books and newspapers. Let me
also mention my civil landlady Mrs. Peacock of
the cliff. We pass our time in her lodgings, as
comfortably as though we were at our own fire-side.

These attractions: cannot fail to draw many
visitors to Scarbro. I myself, in company with
my two dear sisters-in-law, generally contrive to
be at this favourite watering-place, in about a week
or ten days after the arrival of the woodcock: and
for this particular reason, viz., that, when I see
this autumnal bird of passage hanging in the
market-place, I know that fires have become
general in the town. Without fires, I find myself
nearly as torpid as the little land-newt under its
winter stone.

And now, a word or two on transitory exhibitions.
When Mrs. Wombwell, with her splendid collection
of living wild animals takes Scarbro in her way
to the north, I have a great treat. She always
brings some new attraction with her. It was here
that I first saw poor Jenny the chimpanzee.

SCARBRO. 199

A season or two ago, there came a mesmeriser
to exercise his craft, and to astonish all his
audience, myself perhaps excepted: for I do not
believe in mesmerism, as an art to make me act
contrary to my own free will. On the morning
after, whilst making certain enquiries, I was cre-
dibly informed, that this cunning dogmatizer,
had a preconcerted arrangement with a young
person of the softer sex, to be ready in the crowd,
when he should require assistance: and she actually
came forth, apparently a volunteer to act the part
he wanted. A clever way to draw him out of the
mud !

Another mysterious operator, partly in the same
line, but of a still more complicated nature, seems
to have worked stiffly both on the faith, and on
the patience of the multitude. He talked of
phantoms, and of communicating with spectres
in the far distance. Unfortunately, I had not then
arrived at Scarbro’,, otherwise I should have craved
parlance with this singular man of business, to and
from the land of spirits.

Somehow or other, when I apply to be mes-
merised, the mesmeriser starts objections. Pro-
bably, my nerves are too strong to be enfeebled,
and my tendons too springy to be stiffened, by
the passing hand of the performer.

200 SCARBRO .

Not very long ago, Scarbro was greatly amused
by the appearance of a young American lady, who
had come to England in the hope of persuading
the female part of our community to lay aside
for ever its own absurd costume, and to put on one
similar to that in which she then appeared.

But, oh!—ye powers of bad taste and deformity !
This transatlantic new attire, will never suit the
wives, nor please the daughters, nor bend the
temper of stubborn Mr. Bull.

Upright and confident in her pet cause, the
stranger actress stood before us, with a smirking
countenance, and fully bent on victory.

It would require transcendent powers of pen,
(and I have them not), to give the reader an
adequate idea of the nymph in her new dress.

Old Hogarth’s pencil might have hit her off.

The costume which this young lady had adopted,
might have suited an ambiguous character in a
fancy ball room; neither masculine enough for
a man, nor sufliciently feminine for a woman.
“(tha, Lelia Crispis, nec puella, nec juvenis;
and I may add, “ nec anus.” |

Had she presented herself, in the attire of
elegant simplicity, such as so well becomes some
ancient statues, whose flowing robes, show off the
female-form in all its just proportions, she might

SCARBRO . 201

possibly have been successful :—for, say what you
please, I denounce the turgid, angular, and inflated
dresses of these our modern times, as folly’s worst
inventions.

This young lady's newly assumed costume, might
have suited Harlequin in its upper parts; and
Mahomet in its lower ones. She told us that she
was a Bloomer, but omitted to inform us, how,
or whence the fashion rose to notice. _

So far as I can recollect, 1 am not aware that
she stated it to have come originally, either from
Asia, or from Africa; or whether, the wise women
from the West, had sent it for trial, to those of the
East.

However, this peregrine visitor was well received
at the Mechanics Institute in Scarbro’. During
the course of her evening lecture, she made some
observations on the now fashionable mode of femi-
nine attire, which coincided with my own. She
pointed out, with excellent humour, the extreme
folly of ladies wearing long attire, when taking ~
exercise in the open air; and she said that it was a
pity for ladies to conceal their feet and ankles
at any time. In this, she would have the united
Support of every lady in Spain. They consider
a well-formed foot and ankle, of great value ;—and
take much pains in exposing them, whether out
of doors, or within the house.

202 SCARBRO,

Probably, in times gone by, when flowing gowns
were seldom worn in England, some fashionable
dame of high degree, having splay feet, or gummy
ankles, might have put them under cover. If so,
she would become the admirer and the advocate
of a new fashion ; and her weighty example would
be imitated by the multitude. ‘Thus we see, that
when one sheep takes it into its head to drink,
every sheep in the entire flock, will do the same:
and, when a pig (whose head and shoulders are
formed by nature to brush through a thicket,) gets
its snout into a hole at the bottom of a hedge,
every individual pig in company, will perform the
same feat, and pass through it.

But, after taking leave of our American Bloomer,
let us ourselves just look at home for a moment,
and at once condemn the act of English ladies, so
noted for their cleanliness,—sweeping the filthy
streets with their trailing gowns. I, myself, in
walking up and down the causeways, have witnessed
what my pen positively refuses to describe. Well,
indeed, may ladies who are fond of exercise, com-
plain, that there are far too many dogs allowed
in Scarbro’. In fact, these brutes are the soilers,—
and our females, the scavengers of the street.

The cure is short and simple. Apply the whip
to the hide of the dog,—and the scissors to the
skirts of the female.

SCARBRO. 203

Tailors and mantua makers, in these inventive
times, seem to vie with each other, who can pro-
duce the greatest mis-shapes in dress. Actually,
men’s coats are now recommended for their sup-
posed elegance, and use, which if they had been
worn in the days of my early youth, would have
subjected the wearer of them, to the appellation of
an incorrigible clown.

And as for our ladies’ dresses, from the waist
downwards, should their rotundity increase, our
doors must be made wider. If air in the bones of
birds assists their ascent into the vault of heaven,
(strange doctrine) then let us hope, that, inflated
tubes may have the happy effect, of keeping ladies
garments clear of mire.

Well then, kind reader, pardon the length,—
perhaps the insufficiency of these uninteresting
remarks ; and let us wish health and prosperity
to the population of Scarbro’.

But, you will undoubtedly ask me, are there
no drawbacks to the many advantages which, you
tell us, this charming town possesses ?—Is all an
earthly paradise ?—Have its ocean- breezes, its
baths, its walks, and its sands, no permanent or
occasional obstacles to dull the edge of expectation ?
They tell us, that, metheglin may sometimes chance
to have a few drops of acid in it; and that, where

204 SCARBRO .

the lily of the valley thrives, there may be fatal
wolf’s bane near it.

Yes, even so :-—and Scarbro has its stains and
blots hke many other places. The chimneys, for
example, are known to smoke in very windy
weather. The bridge- arrangements are certainly
a bar to expedition in case of hurry from the
esplanade, when sixpence is a serious consideration.
Again,—the circulating fence, at the entrance to
the bridge, and at the exit from it, is an insuffer-
able contrivance. For proof of this; fancy a smart
young female, in best kid gloves, just bought for
promenade, in walks beyond the bridge. At the
gate, she is actually doomed to push her hand
against the opposing bars, which have been in
contact with that of some unwashed oilman, or
greasy tallow chandler. Methinks, | see her
blushes and vexation.

The eastern winds present another draw-back.
At the vernal equinox, when these sweep fiercely
through the streets, for weeks together, with
unabated fury, a walk is anything but pleasant.
Still, these eastern blasts are but fulfilling the law
imposed upon them; and the only consolation to
be found, is in the old proverb,—“ what cant be
cured, must be endured.”

Scarbro, in my humble opinion, now holding

Sen ey
my
eg Ny
hae

SCARBRO . 205

the first place amongst the most renowned of our
many British watering-resorts, will naturally bear
in mind, that visitors are the source from which
her present prosperity has flowed ; and from which
her future greatness must be drawn. In fact,
there is no other source. An abundance of visitors
constitutes her sheet anchor. Visitors in fine, to
use a commercial phrase, are her staple commodity.
Deprive her of them, and then, even all the power
of steam itself, applied to any expected point of
profit, will be of small avail. The ship will break
from her safe and sheltered moorings; and the
tide of her departing greatness, will “ebb much
faster, than it flowed before.’

Wherefore, it behoves you, intellectual gentlemen
of Scarbro’, to unfold your balmy stores of health
and sea-side recreations, to all who come in quest
of them. Decry not this man’s faith, nor that
man's calling; and let your motto be, Health and
Content to all our Visitors.

There still remains another drawback,—but let
me touch it gently. It is a partial, not a common
wrong. Our wounded flock of Albion’s ancient
fold, begs at your liberal hands a drop or two of
anodyne, to soothe its irritated feelings. No
sooner has the fifth of cold November's dawn,
announced the approach of day, than noisy and

206 SCARBRO.

unnecessary peals of Anglican-church bells, astound
the slumbering ear:—sure harbingers of pulpit-
virulence. By Heavens, gentlemen, we Catholics
of Great Britain are not to blame for Guy's
misdeeds. We are proud to merit your good-will,
and we ask a mutual feeling. But, say, I pray
you, what have we to do with crime of by-gone
centuries ?

Say, what are Guy's black schemes to us? If
the ancient creed is accountable for this man’s
dark intentions, then indeed, is your new one,
equally to blame for those of Thistlewood ; who
even in our own times, plotted the entire destruc-
tion of all his Majesty's ministers in Cato-street
assembled. |

Say, which of us, is so malignant and unjust,
as to attack and vilify your creed, and hold its
unoffending members lable for an attempt, so
atrocious and abhorrent, as that of old Guy
Fawkes resuscitated ?

But, ‘‘ verbum sapientibus.’ Let us hope, that
Scarbro’ will no longer toll the peal of prejudice ;
and thus, bury for ever, in the grave of forget-
fulness, recollections which can only tend to
inflame the ignorant mind, and engender uncha-
ritable feelings.

I have made these observations on the town of

SCARBRO. 207

Scarbro, solely to unfold its world of treasures.
I myself, as free as ocean's rolling billows ;—free
as the passing clouds of air ;—have viewed, without
the help of any book, its every street and cranny:
not having had one single, solitary thought of self-
advancement as I wandered on.

Inhabitants of Scarbro !—I love to pass my
leisure hours amongst you. May you ever smile
and ever prosper. But, observe! although old
Ocean rolls his favours on you, your Mother
Earth has not been quite so bountiful: for you
cannot boast a river.

Then, be doubly watchful how you encourage
a poisonous smoke, and still more poisonous fumes
from alkali works to contaminate your hitherto
pure and wholesome atmosphere. Such works
as these, if once they gain admittance, will so
begrime you, and destroy your health; that
Galen's art will not restore it; nor will all the
waters of the river Ouse suffice to wash you clean.
Fear, and beware of monster-chimneys. ‘‘ Fortune
coetera mando.”

CANNIBALISM.

‘“‘Heu quantum scelus est, in viscera viscera condi ;
Congestoque avidum, pinguescere corpore corpus.”

Ir, in the strict sense of the word, by cannibalism
is meant, the ordinary feeding of man upon man,
incited solely by the call of hunger; then, m my
humble opinion, there is no such phenomenon to
be found. Did such a thing really exist, the very
act would indeed reduce the exalted rank of man
to a very inferior state. Tigers, known to be so
sanguinary, never feed on tigers. If animals were
to eat animals of their own species, there would
soon be an end to the breed altogether.

The Roman poet in his amusing account of
the creation, has given most justly to man, a
character which raises him far above the level
of all animals. He tells us, that after these
had received their existence, there still was wanting
an animal of superior intellect, to hold dominion
over all the rest; and man was then created.

‘““Sanctius his animal, mentisque capacius alte,

CANNIBALISM. 209

Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in cetera posset,
natus homo est.”

If man had originally been formed by his Maker,
to be a cannibal, that is, as I have just observed,
to feed upon his fellow-man, in order to satisfy the
craving of his hunger, there does not seem to
have been any particular objection, why Cain, after
his murder of Abel, should not have had a joint
out of him, for his own dinner.

Still, there is no mention made, that Cain,
on this occasion, did treat himself to a feast on
any part of his brother's body. Wherefore, we
may safely infer, that, man was not created to feed
upon his own species: and, that when he is abso-
lutely reduced to the sad necessity of doing so,
he is either instigated .by ungovernable passion,
or else, he is reduced to the terrible necessity of
prolonging his existence, by casting lots to deter-
mine which man shall die to save the lives of the
rest:—as in cases of shipwreck, or in other
dreadful disasters, where nothing remains, and
where nothing can be found, that will support
life, short of the terrible sacrifice.

I would not call people, in this shocking
dilemma, by the name of cannibals. Neither,
would I fear to be sacrificed by them, were I

- unexpectedly to come up with them ; fully confiding,

S

210 CANNIBALISM.

that they would put me upon the same footing with
themselves, when they cast lots to decide who
was to be the devoted victim. 7

As to the flesh itself of man, there can be
nothing in it of an objectionable nature as food
more than in that of animals in general. I can easily
conceive, that an expert cook, can make it into
a dish, quite as savoury as that of beef or mutton ;
but then, he must keep his revolting doings a
profound secret; otherwise, nature would startle
at the very appearance of the dish, when served
at table; and man would turn sick at the sight ;—
because he has that within him, which says, thou
shalt not feed upon thy fellow-man :—this, in fact,
being a general prohibition, from the Maker of
all things, that one animal, shall not prey upon
another animal of the same species.

Unfortunately, we cannot come at the true
nature of an animal, when anything has intervened
to change its original habits.

For example, captivity in a cage, will cause a
parrot to feed on flesh-meat ;—a thing which it
is never known to do, when wild in its native
woods; where instinct teaches it to live on vege
table food alone; and where it is sure to fulfil
the law, imposed upon it by the Creator.

Again, when the habits of a brute animal have

CANNIBALISM. pe

been changed by domestication; it is known by
experience, occasionally to feed upon its own
species; so that, when a sow has been pent up
in an incommodious stye, on the eve of farrowing,
or as we unmannerly boors of Yorkshire say, a
day or two before pigging, she has been known
to devour some of the litter. But, whether the
victims were dead or alive, at the time of this
unnatural act, | have never been able to learn ;—
for, on questioning farmers, if they have actually
seen sows feeding upon their living little ones,
the answer has been anything but satisfactory.
From this, I have formed the conclusion, that, the
sow, being in too small an apartment, must have
overlaid part of the litter, and eaten those which
she had killed; her appetite having become
depraved by confinement: probably more so by
this imprisonment, than by artificial food; as I
cannot learn, that such unnatural deeds are ever
perpetrated in the fields, or when the sow has the
run of a capacious yard.

I must here pay a compliment to the herds of
wild swine, which range through the forests of
Guiana. I have killed them, and I have dissected
them, and am acquainted with their habits. But,
neither my own observations, nor information on
the part of the Indians, have induced me to

SR

212 CANNIBALISM.

entertain the slightest suspicion, that these wild
animals or any others, do, under any circumstances,
feed upon each other. They seem all to obey the
original law of nature already mentioned. I am
of firm belief, that, when left in their own freedom,
pigs will never feed on pigs.

If this paramount law is not broken by the
brute creation; we may well imagine, that it is
paramount with man, a rational animal. In this
light then, man cannot be considered a cannibal,
in the strict sense of the word; although, some
instances may occur, which will occasionally cause
him to eat his own species.

Were man a real cannibal, he would make use
of his superior powers of mind, to plot against the
lives of his fellow-creatures, in order to gratify
his appetite. He would be for ever bent on their
destruction, and they on his; until the race of
uninstructed men generally known by the name
of savages, became entirely extinct.

Moderation would be out of the case. A can-
nibal could not think of confining himself, once
in a way, to a festive dinner on his tender sister ;
or to a single dish of soup, made out of his old
erandmother. He would want more of the deli-
cious nutriment; and he would continue to long
after human flesh, wherever there was an oppor-
tunity of obtaining it.

CANNIBALISM. 218

Contemplating cannibalism in this point of view,
I come to the conclusion, that, the nature, the
habits, and the superior powers of man, forbid
him to be a cannibal.

Let us enquire what it is, that instigates a
brute animal to prey upon one of its uwn species ;
after which, we can extend the imvestigation to
man himself: and then see what it is, that causes
this rational being to forfeit his high position in
the creation; and in fact, to place himself below
that of wild beasts themselves. I say below,
because man, in his most uncultivated state,
possesses reasoning qualities, of suflicient force
to keep him at the head of all animals; whilst
these latter, have nothing more than instinct for
their guide.

If a number ‘of irrational animals, consisting
only of one species, were to be deprived of their
liberty, and to be shut up in a place, from which
they could not escape; they would prey upon
each other, as soon as absolute hunger forced them
to do so. Of this, there are many well authen-
ticated instances, by which, we clearly perceive,
that, hunger alone, has been the real incentive.
For example, confine a dozen of Hanoverian rats,
(animals so notorious for living on other people's
means) in a large cage replete with provisions.

214 CANNIBALISM.

When the last morsel of these provisions has been
consumed, then, the stronger will eat up the
weaker. Even, in this case, it would be absolute
necessity, and not depravity which compelled them
to feed upon each other:—for, as the saying has
it,—“ necessity knows no law.”

On the contrary, whilst rats are in the full
enjoyment of their lberty, they are not known to
prey upon each other. Their superlative knack
of fending for themselves, would always prevent
the necessity for mutual destruction.

Whilst I am on the subject of rats, although
I freely concede to these able friends of mine,
a vast supply of brain, to manage their own affairs,
still, I cannot believe the following instance of
their sagacity. |

A farmer, in this neighbourhood, once declared
to me, that he had seen an old ratten, im the act
of conducting a blind one, along the king’s high-
way. <A straw, held in their mouths, was the
conducting medium betwixt the blind rat, and the
rat which had the use of its eyes. This happened
during the night, when the full moon shone
brightly. But, on my asking the farmer how
he had contrived to approach these two intelli-
gent travellers, sufficiently near, to distinguish
that one of them was blind; his answer did not

CANNIBALISM. 215

satisfy me; so I dropped the subject, after he had
informed me, that the scene took place, on the
night of the market-day. He liked his glass of
rum and water. No doubt, but that the contents
of it had caused this jovial son of Ceres, to see
double.

The fox and the dog, are so nearly allied to
each other, that their union is known to produce
issue. But, although the dog will worry the fox,
and even eat him occasionally, this is no proof
that dogs will naturally feed on foxes. I adduce
the chase. <A pack of hounds, urged on by men
in scarlet liveries, and closely followed by a group
of horsemen, soon start old Reynard from his lone
retreat. In an instant, all rush forward. The
hounds give mouth, and follow up the scent.
Poor Reynard’s arts avail him nothing. “His feet
betray his flight.” The hounds rush in upon him,
—followed by the joyful huntsman. In an instant,
Reynard dies, and his mangled remains are swal-
lowed by the infuriated pack; whilst the interfering
huntsman, with his long whip, lashing the hounds
on all sides, is barely enabled to save the drabbled
brush.

This carcass of the worried fox, is unnatural
food for them. It has been procured by ungo-
vernable excitement, which has so blinded them,

216 CANNIBALISM.

that they have not discriminated the loathful
remains of a disgusting fox, from the ordinary
food, which they daily receive from the hands of
the huntsman, whilst they are in the kennel.
Now. nature has had nothing to do with the
repast. If the captured fox could have been
rescued from the mouths of its devourers, and
offered to them when it had become cold, and their
own fury had subsided, not a dog in all the pack
would have touched it. Congenial instinct, no
longer vitiated by the recent excitement of the
chase, would cause the dogs to reject the unusual
and disgusting food. But, had the carcass of a
sheep, been thrown into the kennel, it would have
been consumed immediately; because, the dog
and the sheep form two distinct species of animals
no-ways connected with each other.

The excitement caused in the chase, will be
fatal to an affection which is sometimes known to
exist betwixt the dog and the fox. We had an
instance of this, in the days of my father, who had
been a noted fox-hunter in early life. |

In the kennel of a neighbouring baronet, there |
was a tame fox; and my father used to be much
amused in observing the uncommon familiarity
which existed betwixt it and the hounds. These
would play with it,—and it with them, in all

CANNIBALISM. Pal i

manner of postures. When a good run was
wanted, a whipper-in would take the social fox,
and place it on a pad, so contrived at the horse’s
crupper, that, there was no danger of his slipping
from it. The man would then leave the kennel,
and after having ridden to a certain distance from
it; he would get off horseback, and place the tame
fox on the ground. Then, remounting his horse,
he would canter away, through localities best
suited to produce an excellent day's sport: the
fox keeping up with him, as though it were a
favourite terrier.

When the hounds in full cry, had advanced
sufficiently near, to put the man upon his guard,
he would dismount, and having placed the fox in
its former situation, he would get on horseback
again, and gallop away. ‘This caused the scent
to cease, and the chase was no longer pursued.

Cervantes truly remarks, that the pitcher is
carried to the well so many times, and then gets
broken. Such was the untimely fate of our poor
little Reynard. One day, whilst the hounds were
hard on the scent, somehow or other, the man
allowed them to approach too near, and before
he could secure his charge, they came up, and
having torn the fox in pieces, they ate every
morsel of it:—their rage not allowing them to

218 CANNIBALISM.

distinguish the pet from an ordinary fox. Here
artificial excitement, and not natural feeling
induced them to destroy and consume, the very
animal of which they had been so fond, when it
was in the kennel with them.

Hence, I infer, by the common law of nature,
that foxes will never eat foxes, nor dogs prey upon
dogs, unless artificial excitement, or famine inter-
vene, to render nugatory, amongst brute animals,
the universal mandate, which is equally imposed
upon man himself, who is a rational being.

Thus, in the true meaning of the word, man
will never be a cannibal:—that is, man will never
feed on man, in the ordinary way of food. Some-
thing must indeed occur of most extraordinary
import, to abrogate the supreme injunction placed
upon the sons of Adam, by order of their Maker.

IT am well aware, that shocking accounts are
on record, of man devouring the flesh of man.
But, these accounts require looking into. The
fact of man eating up his fellow-creature, demands
an investigation of the utmost care and discri-
mination. |

There is no doubt in my own mind, but that
accidental occurrences, and not a natural appetite,
may be the cause of an inhuman repast upon
human flesh. Wars amongst savages, whose

CANNIBALISM. 219

feelings have not been tempered by the soothing
influence of civilization, are sometimes the cause
of an odious meal, which could never be obtained
at the shambles. Indeed, by accounts which I
have perused from time to time, J should, unhe-
sitatingly believe, that war is the chief, perhaps
the only cause amongst savages, of man regaling
himself upon the flesh of man :—always excepting,
that dreadful moment in human existence, when
unendurable pangs of hunger have forced, even
civilised man, to preserve his own life, on food
from the body of his fellow-creature.

Before I left the cultivated plantations of Guiana,
to wander through its wild interior, I had been
forewarned by many respectable planters, that
cannibals were known to be in the forests: and
that, if I went without sufficient force to protect
me, I should be killed and devoured by these
monsters. Several Indians also corroborated the
absurd notion; and they were quite sure that I
should become a prey to the men-eaters.

But, I was not to be frightened at shadows; nor
forced to change my own ideas, by old grand-
mother’s stories. Determining in my own mind,
never to give cause of offence to anybody, I jour-
neyed amongst the natives without any fear of
having my flesh cooked to suit their present
appetites, or of its being salted for future use.

220 CANNIBALISM.

During the whole of the time, which I spent
in the regions, extending from that part which
Captain Stedman terms the wild coast of Surinam,
near the Atlantic Ocean, to the Portuguese frontier
fort on the Rio Branco, (see the “ Wanderings, ’)
I never fell in with a cannibal.

Still, [ could wish to mention a circumstance,
which a stranger would consider tantamount to
proof positive, that certain Indians of Guiana, have
really a liking for human flesh, in its dried state ;
as hands of this description, have occasionally
been discovered in pegalls, which are a kind of
band-box, composed of a species of reed; and
used for the purpose of conveying their hammocks,
with other little matters, from place to place.

This ominous discovery is thus explained.

Whenever the fugitive, or maroon negroes had
mustered sufficient force in the forests, to place the
colonies in jeopardy, then it was, that armed troops
were dispatched into the interior, to attack their
settlements.

In these warlike expeditions, the Indians acted
the part of auxiliaries to the colonists, who
rewarded their services, for every maroon taken
or slain, under the following condition: viz., that
the Indian, when he came to claim the reward,
should produce the right hand of the maroon

bere F
ry) 4

CANNIBALISM. eo%

Now, as flesh will not keep sweet more than a day
in those hot climates, the Indian cut off the dead
maroon’s hand ;—dried it over a slow fire, and then
packed it in the pegall, as described above; to
be produced at head quarters, when the promised
reward was claimed.

This is the true history of dried hands having
been found in the pegalls of the Indians :—a dis-
covery, certainly at first sight, suspicious enough to
fasten on these natives of Guiana, the unenviable
reputation of being genuine cannibals.

When St. Francis Xavier, the glurious apostle of
the East Indies, had set his heart upon christian-
izing the barbarians who inhabited the Island of
Moro, and its dependencies ; he was entreated by the
Portuguese people not to think of such a perilous
enterprise. In order that they might pessibly
deter him, from undertaking the expedition, they
assured him, that the inhabitants were cannibals ;
that, they poisoned each other; that their nourish-
ment consisted of human flesh ;—that, when one
of the family died, they cut off the hands and feet,
out of which they made a savoury dish :—nay,
their depravity went so far, that, when they
intended to give a grand dinner to their neigh-
bours, they requested one of their friends to give
them up an aged father to be made into a dainty

22° CANNIBALISM.

stew, for the invited guests; and that, they would
do their friend a similar good turn, whenever he
should determine to have a party for dinner.

If this alarming piece of information had been
founded in truth, then would the existence of
genuine cannibalism have been established beyond
all manner of doubt ;—for here, we have a state-
ment that the savages butchered their aged parents
in cold blood, and then cooked them; so that,
their friends might partake of the savoury cheer ;—
no mention being made of a battle. In fact,
St. Francis was put upon his guard, that the Island
of Moro, was peopled by human beings with
appetites so depraved, so keen, and so gluttonous,
that, the master of the house, considered, he could
not consult the refined taste of his company, better
than by preparing human soup, human fry, and
human steaks, for them at his own dining table.

Whilst I am on gastronomy, if the indulgent
reader will pardon a short digression, 1 will shew
him, what we civilized people can do in the way
of ultra-gormandising. It is concerning a dinner,
which brings to ones mind those-days of ancient
epicurism, when Caligula raised the Roman kitchen
to a pitch of most lamentable notoriety. Here are
the component parts of one single dish, costing
one hundred guineas to the consumers of it. The

CANNIBALISM. 223

reader may well suppose, that the whole affair was
merely a hoax. But, I can assure him, that it was
no hoax at all. It was truly and really a thing
of flesh, spice, and paste, manufactured expressly
for the palates of those alone, who could duly
appreciate its transcendent merits.

5 Turtles’ heads, part of green fatand £. s. d.
nS : ; : - of 8 0
24 Capons, the noix or nut, from the
middle of the back only used
18 Turkeys the same

GO
=

8

8
18 Poulardes the same aL 8)
16 Fowls the same 21180
40 Woodcocks the same. Se 3h
100 Snipes the same ae Os)
» 38 dozens of Pigeons the same 01490
43 Partridges the same a een
10 dozens of Larks, whole . 0515.0
30 Pheasants Obes O
6 Plovers 0 9 O
3 dozens of Quails 3 0 0
Ortolans gy 0°)

The garniture; consisting of cocks’
combs, truffles, mushrooms, craw-
fish, olives, American asparagus,
cronstades, sweet-breads, quenel-
les de volaille and sauce . a LATO

Total . , £104 9 6

N.B.—‘‘ The way the cook accounts for the extrava-

224 CANNIBALISM.

gance of this heterogenous mass and mixture of food
for man, is as follows: viz., that if an epicure were to
order this dish only, he (the cook) would be obliged
to provide the whole of the above-mentioned articles.”

Even so:—but the cook has not told us, how
much of the expended money, he recovered by
selling (probably at prime cost) those parts of the
turtles and fowls, &c., which were not necessary
for his stupendous dish. But, all comment here
is absolutely useless. J will merely remark, that,
with the “garniture” alone, it would be quite
unimportant, whether the cook concocted his dish
with the ingredients noticed above; or with the
“nox” and flesh of hawks, carrion crows, vul-
tures, foumarts, snakes, and waternewts.

Were I to spend time in comments upon this
display of modern extravagance and vitiated appe-
tite, I would say zoologically speaking, that if
our well-known bird the owl, sacred to Minerva,
had been called upon for an opinion, it would
have gravely pronounced, that, a fox must have
presided at the committee; an hyena have been
cook, and a stud of asses, the consumers of the
dish in question.

But, let me return to the Island of Moro.

St. Francis Xavier, notwithstanding the dismal
forebodings of his warmest friends, went boldly to

CANNIBALISM. 225

the island of cannibals. The inhabitants in lieu
of seizing him for the frying pan, fled precipitately
to their woods, whither the charitable father fol-
lowed them. The meek and courteous behaviour
on his part soon allayed their imaginary fears ;
and the whole island, was converted by St. Francis
Xavier to the catholic faith During the three
months that he tarried with these barbarians, no
mention is made,—no hint is thrown out, no soli-
tary instance is adduced of these people being prone
to cannibalism. Had his conduct tended to enrage
them, he certainly might have run the risk of
being knocked on the head, and then devoured,
whilst their ungovernable paroxysm of frenzy
lasted ; for let it be remembered, that these island-
ers were savages of the first description. They
had not been civilized: neither did they know,
what it was, to control their gusts of passion.
So that, in their rage, they ran the risk of being
led to commit an unnatural act, which, in their
cooler moments, they never would have perpetrated.

I have remarked, at the commencement of these
notes, that there is a law written in the heart of
man, forbidding him to kill his fellow-man. But,
this same law does not prohibit him from eating
the flesh of man. In doing so, a man must be
governed entirely by his own imagination. Thus,

=

226 CANNIBALISM.

in a civilized state, when the party has not actually
been reduced to the last extremity of saving life,
by casting lots who should die, there would be
great difficulty in persuading them to make a meal
of any part of a dead human body. Imagination
alone, is the actor in this case. A chop of man,
would be just as palatable as a chop of mutton,
under the hand of a good cook, and fried in
London gravy. A person, perfectly ignorant of
the real nature of the dishes placed before him,
would undoubtedly approve of them, and find them
very good and nutritive.

In the wilds of Guiana, we boil the large red, or
howler monkey for dinner. It resembles, at first
sight, the body of a child. In fact, you would
take its head to be that of a veritable infant. Still,
IT had too much nerve to be deprived of a whole-
some repast, by the intervention of my own imagi-
nation.

I can easily conceive, that a savage, whose finer
feelings had never been called into action by
education, would find no repugnance, in making
soup of his slain enemy ; and that he would enjoy
it, just as we ourselves should enjoy soup made
of ox-tail, or of any other carnal ingredient.

Probably had a savage been present at one of
our late Crimean battles, whilst he would have

is
4
We)
Ky

ae
uA

CANNIBALISM. | 227

condemned the human slaughter, (or rather let

us call it, the inhuman slaughter) as wrong and
unnecessary in his eyes, he would have yearned for
a dish, made from the leg of a healthy sergeant
newly slain: and if salted swine in its raw state,
with green coffee-berry garniture, had been on the
same table, he would have rejected this, and would
have made his meal on that. :

We can only come at the true flavour of flesh-
meat, by eating it raw ;—seeing that, rich sauces,
fire and cookery, so change the nature and appear-
ance of it;—that after it has undergone the
culinary process, an expert connoisseur, in things

appertaining to gastronomy, would find it a difficult

task to know, whether he were about to partake

of monkey-pie, or human pasty.

I myself (but not at Walton Hall) have witnessed
individuals in genteel life, make a hearty meal
of pie made of carrion crow, having mistaken it
for one of pigeon. In this instance, it was appetite
and not prejudice that *‘ ruled the roast:” for had
the parties been aware of the real nature of the
pie, we may take it for granted, that it would have
been ordered out of the dining room; abhorred
and untouched.

In my opinion, the veriest savage in existence
is conscious that he commits a crime, when he

tT 2

228 CANNIBALISM.

kills his fellow-man, in what we term, cold blood.
But, in the simple act of eating the flesh of man,
he does not feel himself culpable; because, civili-
zation has not worked upon his imagination, so
as to place the act in a repugnant, and in a
disgusting point of view.

By the way, this imagination of ours in civilized
life, is a stern commander. We all know, that
stewed horse, is just as good, nay, sometimes
much better, than stewedcow: yet, such is the
general prejudice, that in nine cases out of ten,
the latter would be eaten with an appetite ; whilst
the former would be rejected with abhorrence.

Before I can bring my mind to believe in the
existence of cannibalism, such as I have defined
it, at the commencement of these fugitive notes,
I must be convinced, that there really does exist
a human being, no matter in what part of the
world, who will slay his fellow-man, without any
provocation having been offered, or any excitement
produced; but that he is known to deprive him
of bis life, merely for a supply of daily food ; just
exactly with the same feelings, and with no others,
than. we would shoot a hare or a pheasant to
entertain a dinner-party.

Sometimes, even in civilized life, we witness
strange things, very nearly approaching to canni-
balism, in the common acceptation of the word.

CANNIBALISM. 229

In the United States of North America, two
individuals of the higher ranks, had a desperate
row, hand to hand. The affair terminated in the
disgustful act of one having bitten off the greater
portion of the other’s ear. “Sir,” said a person
who was looking on, “I presume you know that
you have unfortunately lost an ear in this terrible
scuffle.” “‘No matter,” rejoined the enraged com-
batant, “the fellow has got the worst of it; for,
look,” said he, opening his hand as he spoke the
word, “I have bitten off the scoundrel’s nose.” :
If these Christian warriors had been savages
in the woods, and not members of civilised life,
there can be no doubt, but that both the ear and the
nose, would have gone down into the stomachs
of the doughty champions. Still, in my idea,
they would not have been cannibals; even if they
had torn off, and swallowed each other’s cheeks
and gloried in the hideous act. |

In a word, if any traveller will step forward, and
positively declare, that he has undoubted intelli-
gence of wild men, who, without having received
any provocation, will kill one of their own tribe,
or of any other nation, and then eat him, as he
would eat ordinary food,—then, and in that case,
as our lawyers say, I will readily believe, that real
and genuine cannibals do exist:—and moreover,

230 CANNIBALISM.

I will no longer object to receive for truths, all
the strange accounts which I have read in books,
and have hitherto considered, as mere inventions
to deter travellers from exploring the uncivilized
parts of the world; or to astound listening children
on a winters night, when howling winds and
drifting snow announce, that there is murky
mischief going on; and gipsies encamped close
by, to kidnap them, should they be rash enough
to venture out, beyond the threshold of their
comfortable habitation. |

I have entered into this enquiry, and have
determined to place my observations before the eye
of the public, in order that man, the noblest
animal in the Creation, even when he runs wild in
the woods, may be put upon ap equal footing
with his civilized brother, so far as their daily food
in flesh-meat is concerned; and thus be cleansed
from a stain so foul and black as that of real
cannibalism.

When I travel into countries inhabited by
savages, I would thus address the assembled
natives

‘Ladies and Gentlemen,—I am come to see
you, and to admire your beautiful country ; but,
not to eat you, nor to be eaten by you. I assure
you, that it: is not my intention to enter into

CANNIBALISM. QoL

your private quarrels; nor, so long as I have

the pleasure of staying amongst you, shall I
feel any longing for a repast on the dead bodies”
of your sworn enemies, slain in battle. People,

in the country from which I have come, and in

which I was born, cannot bring their minds to
feed.0n -buman-fiesh:—neither can I. When
we kill our adversaries, which we sometimes do,
to the tune of ten thousand a day, we are not in
the habit of roasting their bodies, and then eating
them, or any part of their remains. But this,
ladies and gentlemen, is merely a matter of taste:
or perhaps, in your keen eyes, it may be termed
a want of taste. If you will kindly furnish me
with a few sweet potatoes, or any other thing in
the way of vegetables, I will, by no means, take
offence at your making a meal on the slaughtered
remains of your foes; and upon which sort of
food, we people from Europe are informed, that
you dine occasionally with a considerable degree
of relish.”

Negroes from Africa are fond of dog for dinner ;
but, I question whether or not, they ever regale
themselves on the flesh of man. At least, I
have never as yet been able to discover that negroes
are prone to this last kind of nutriment.

I was often in Guiana, when the slave trade was

202 CANNIBALISM.

in full vigour there. Considering that negroes
were imported into the colonies of the new world
by tens of thousands, brought prisoners from the
remotest recesses of Africa, we might suppose
that some of these, if not many of them, were now
and then, in the habit of feeding upon their fellow-
creatures. But, I could not learn from captains
of Guineamen, that they had ever detected a man
amongst the slaves, in the passage from Africa
to America, feeding on his dead comrade. Such
a repast, the captains assured me, was utterly
unknown.

I had proof positive, that negroes have a
yearning for dogs’ flesh.

On a plantation about twenty miles up the river
Demerara, there lived an Irish gentleman, of a
merry turn, and of noted hospitality. Having just
received from Scotland an uncommonly fine terrier,
he was wishful to try its metal. A lieutenant
of artillery, being himself a great dog-fancier, was
duly informed of this dog’s arrival: and he was
invited to pass a day in the Irish gentleman's
house; and to bring his own terrier with him,
in order that the two dogs might join in mortal
combat. Myself and three others were asked to
join the party; and we all embarked at Stabroek,
in the Irish gentleman's tent-boat.

CANNIBALISM. 233

On our arrival at the plantation, unfortunately,
the Scotch terrier was missing ; nor could anybody
conjecture what was become of him. A batch of
newly-imported slaves, having been located on the
property, a hint was given, that possibly the dog
might have found its way, against its will, into
one of their huts. ‘This was actually the case.
With a long stick thrust through it from stern to
stem, the dog was found half roasted at the fire.
It had not been skinned ;—neither had the intes-
tines been taken out. So there it was, woodcock
like, and would soon have been ready for the
negroes dinner.

One could hardly have conceived a scene more
ludicrous. The Irish gentleman raved with
vexation. The lieutenant of artillery shrugged
up his shoulders as he viewed the smoking dog ;
and we ourselves, confiding in the Irishman’s known
good humour, laughed most immoderately. Thus
ended the expected diversion at the Irish gen-
tleman’s plantation; verifying the old Spanish
proverb in ‘Don Quixote, “there is nothing
certain in this life:—sometimes a man goes in
quest of one thing, and finds another.”

THE £03.

VIVITUR RAPTO.

THIs animal is well known in England, where
it 18 more prized, and more persecuted, than
perhaps in any other country of the known world.
Every child in the nursery, is taught that the
“grapes are sour; and the nurse assures him,
that they are the fox’s own words; whilst every
hen-wife throughout the land, is eternally plotting
its destruction.

Were it not, that m these populous districts we
turn the bodily services of this, our last beast of
chase, to good account, its bones would long ago,
have mouldered into dust, with those of its for-
midable predecessors, the bear and the wolf; for,
in fact, our farmers cannot tolerate the sight of —
Reynard, and the gamekeepers, those privileged
scourges of animated nature, would, at any time,
massacre his entire family.

The fox may be styled first cousin to the dog,
(for these two animals will breed together) and

“

THE FOX. 235

second-cousin to the wolf; seemg that all three
will generate hydrophobia, and communicate it
far and wide :—even to man himself, as I myself
can testify, by several personal investigations.

Common opinion seems to concur in attributing
to the fox, an extraordinary amount of cunning,
“as cunning as a fox;” still, I am not prepared
to concede this prerogative to the fox alone, par
excellence, as I am acquainted with many other
animals capable of disputing the prize with it.
Perhaps, people are inclined to give it more credit
for cunning, than they do to other animals, on
account of the singular formation of its head and
face, which, according to our own notions of
physiognomy, indicate the powers of cunning.

Be this as it may, so long as England lasts, the
general opinion will be, that the fox is a sly,
cautious, prying and calculating animal. However,
endow it with whatever superior faculties you choose,
it has no claim to rationality. Some of its actions
are certainly so clever, that you feel quite inclined
to raise it to a rank, above that of its fellow brutes ;
whilst others again, are so absurd, and so devoid
of anything like design, that you must absolutely
change the favourable opinion which you have
entertained of its abilities, and lower its intellect
to that of the surrounding quadrupeds. When the

236 THE FOX.

good Jesuit-Fathers at Stonyhurst, saw (as I have
stated in a former part of the autobiography) that,
nothing short of severe prohibition, could coerce
me, when I was bent upon a ramble amongst the
birds and beasts of the neighbourhood ; and fearing,
at the same time, that I should set a bad example
to the scholars, by transgressing the boundary
prescribed to them by the rules of the college, they
wisely determined to make me a privileged boy, by
constituting me both rat, and fox-catcher; there
being no hounds kept in the neighbourhood.

Armed with this authority, I was always on the
alert, when scholastic duties allowed me a little
relaxation; and I became the scourge of noted
thieves, such as foumarts, stoats, weasles, and
Hanoverian rats.

Once, it so happened, that Reynard, (and
possibly other members of his family) had made an
excellent supper, on an unprotected flock of fine
- young turkeys, about half grown ;—the property of
the establishment. Hight of these were missing
the next morning. It seems, that, after the four-
footed thief had satisfied his call of hunger, he
naturally bethought himself, that his wife and
children would like a bit of turkey for supper on
the followmg night: so he buried five of the
remaining victims, in an open garden which was

THE FOX. 237

close by. Now, if the simpleton had covered them
all over with the soil on the garden-bed, I would
have given him credit for superior sagacity. But,
he actually left one wing of each bird exposed
to view; and it was this exposure which led
to their discovery.

I could not possibly mistake, as to who had been
the sexton, for, when I had disinterred them, each
bird emitted that odour which a fox alone produces.
Thus, whilst I admired the pains which Reynard
had taken in covering up the turkeys, I condemned
his folly and want of judgment, in leaving the
wing of his murdered prey, exposed to the eyes
of the whole world. An ass, in this case, would
have shewn just as much talent and cunning as
Reynard himself had exhibited.

The fox is as shy by his nature as by necessity ;
choosing the stillness of the night to work in
his nefarious calling. But, on certain estates,
where things are kept pretty quiet, he will venture
to leave his hiding place, even at noon-day; and

then play the mischief with whatever poultry comes

within his reach.

I once imagined, that I could be able to put
bantam fowls upon a footing with the wild phea-
sants in the woods. So, when Spring had set in,
I turned two pairs of bantams to take their chance

238 THE FOX.

in the surrounding plantations. One of the hens
made her nest in an adjoining meadow, and appa-
rently she would have hatched a plentiful brood,
if Reynard had not interfered to mar my interesting
plan. .

One day, about the hour of noon, I myself, with
my own eyes, saw the savage kill my bantam
on its nest, and take her off in triumph. This
happened before the park wall was finished :—the
completion of which, for ever shuts out Reynard,
and all his pilfering family, from the good things
which his late larder contains in such abundance.

Foxes bark like dogs, but, in a somewhat sub-
dued tone of voice, and in shorter accents. They
will inhabit any part of a country, from the sea
shore to the woods and coppices in the interior.
At Flambro’ head, the rocks are so precipitous,
that you would wonder how even a fox could
journey over them, in safety to its hiding place.
I have found their young ones in the hollow of an
inclined old oak ; and sometimes, in a dry spring,
on the surface of the ground, where underwood
and brambles invited the mother to form her
nursery. But, the usual haunts of foxes, either
for parturition or protection, are far away under-
ground, in deep and winding holes ;—commonly
known by the name of fox-earths. Sometimes

THE FOX. 239

the badger will frequent the subterrancous retreats,
not only for temporary concealment, but also, for a
permanent abode:—and this, without disturbing
Reynard ’s family.

In a like manner, we see amongst our own
species, people of very opposite characters, inhabit-
ing the same floor of a lodging house.

From time immemorial, our fox-earths, here
at Walton Hall, have been famous in the annals
of vulpine venary. ‘They had been made under
the roots of some fine old oak trees, on the side
of a verdant hill, rising gently from the lake.
In early youth, I would often mount into one of
these ancient sons of the forest on a moonlight
night, to watch the foxes at their vesper pastime.
Thus seated aloft, I could see the cubs as playful
as kittens, catching each other by their brushes,—
now standing on three Jegs, as if in the act of
listening,-—then, performing somersets, sometimes
snarling,—sometimes barking; and often playing
at a kind of hide and seek, as we used to do, when
I was a lad at school.

On one occasion, whilst I was thus perched
aloft, old Reynard, brought a fine pike, weighing
I should say, full three pounds, to the mouth of
the hole, and instantly it was worried by the brood.

At the final breaking up of these ancient fox-

240 THE FOX

earths, just a few months before the park wall was
finished, I had directed the gamekeeper to stop the |
mouths at his usual hour of midnight; knowing,
that Reynard and all his family would be from
home in quest of plunder.

At sunrise, we commenced the work of digging ;
and in the course of the day, we came upon two
full-grown badgers, which I kept for a few hours,
and then turned loose again upon the world at
large; there to seek another place of residence.

Foxes generally bring forth in early spring :—
but, I have known exceptions to this rule : —and
they produce, from four to five at one annual litter.
‘Tis well for us, they are not so prolific as the
Hanoverian rat. Did they breed as fast as this
thief, and as many at a time, whole flocks of sheep
would not suffice to meet their wants. Young
foxes are well advanced in size by the end of June.
The appearance every now and then, of a lean
and scabby fox, may often be attributed to the
dangerous practice of gamekeepers placing poisoned
egos, and pieces of poisoned meat, to destroy,
what they usually denominate running and flying
“ varment.”

All lords of manors, and occupiers of land,
ought to prohibit peremptorily, this never-to-be-
sufficiently condemned practice of putting poisoned

THE FOX. 24]

food in hedge bottoms, and in rabbit runs. When
rats are to be destroyed, the bait may be thrust
deeply into their holes, and very few pieces of it at
one time. I am of opinion, that, there are not
three distinct species of foxes in Great Britain.
Naturalists who have written on the nature and
habits of the fox, can produce nothing but a
difference in size, to support their argument, that
we have more species than one. I consider the
difference in size of foxes, to be attributed, either
to climate, or to their food ;—or most probably
to both. These animals all emit the same offensive
odour;—their colour varies occasionally but a
trifle ;—-whilst they have a common tone of voice ; —
shew the same propensities; and exercise the same
economy. Depend upon it, there is only one
species of fox in our country.

Thus far, have I introduced to the reader's notice,
this shy little quadruped, in order to shew his
predatory inclinations ; which, although destructive
of the farmer's property to a certain extent, may
easily be forgiven on account of other qualities,
shortly to be exhibited.

I had almost forgot to remark, that the cubs
of foxes are blind for a while after their birth, like
the whelps of dogs.

The fox has survived the bear, the boar and

U

242 THE FOX.

the wolf in these realms. In fact, he may now
be styled the last remaining beast of prey amongst
us. Although possessing no amiability of disposi-
tion, nor of a nature to mix in company with
other animals,—such, for example, as the hare and
the deer, during the time that the sun is above the
horizon; still, the fox runs no risk of being
exterminated, so long as our rising generation is
fond of rural sports. We may say of it, what the
Prince in days of old, said of Jack Falstaff, we
can “better spare a better man.’ We can better
tolerate the annual loss of game and poultry, than
send the perpetrator into everlasting exile.

With occasional reprimands from shepherds,
farmers, and pheasant-fanciers, I trust that Reynard
will always be a cherished, valuable and interesting
little fellow, with English country gentlemen ; and
that he will ever command their patronage; and be
the theme of convivial conversation at the festive
board, for generations yet to come, when the hand
which is writing this, shall hold the pen no longer.

Yes :—although it will inevitably be Reynard’s
fate to find protection to-day,— persecution to-
morrow ;—now, hated by henwives ;—now, cursed
by gamekeepers, his family will always manage
to keep its ground; unless more railways, tram-
roads, long chimneys, soaperies and vitriol works,

vm

THE FOX. 243

shall swarm through this Province, as lice for-
merly swarmed through the land of Egypt. Then
will our woods, which in many parts, already feel
the dire effects of smoke, perish outright; and
every fox, with every fox’s wife and cubs, will quit
their earths for good and all, and start in quest of
other quarters.

Here I take my leave of Reynard, so far as
regards his life and manners :—but, I have not
done with him. The pleasing part of his adven-
tures has yet to come.

I now wish my reader to consider him in the
shape of a Janus-bifrons ;—that is, an animal with
two faces ;—one of which, will be in perpetual
menace, to put farmers and henwives on their
guard ;—whilst the other will exhibit smiles and
animation, to assure our lovers of the chase, that
he will always be ready, during the proper season,
to afford them facilities for horsemanship; and
many a long run of manly and healthy exercise,—
not to be found with so much splendour, and
so many advantages, in any other portion of the
globe.

Thus may Great Britain boast, that for many
good and weighty reasons, she cherishes an appa-
rently insignificant little quadruped, which, at the
same time, that it will worry all her unprotected

ih u 2

244 THE FOX.

. poultry, from the majestic swan to the little bantam,
can afford exercise and amusement to all ranks of
people ;—aye, even to ladies of high degree and
eminent endowments.

I well remember the day, when half a dozen
ladies, all dressed in scarlet habits, and mounted
on prancing steeds, would join the hunt, and show
what female courage could effect. More than once,
in the days run, have I myself dismounted, and
torn away the opposing hedge-stake from before
them, to save mishap.

In this last character of affording amusement,
Reynard is absolutely invaluable to those who duly
estimate a warlike breed of horses, and resolute
riders, who, in the field of Nimrod, commence
a career which forms them for after deeds of intre-
pidity and patriotism in the warlike ranks of Mars.

Moreover, the chase of Reynard, restores health
to convalescents,—gives pastime to the gentry, and
exercise to the multitude in every direction.

It is generally allowed, that two armies drawn up
in battle array, present a splendid and a grand
appearance. But, when we reflect, that, they are
assembled on the plains of death,—ready at a
moment's warning, to commence the work of
mutual slaughter ;—O then it is, that sorrow fills
the pitying breast; and there is no charm left

i

¥

THE FOX. 245

in gorgeous uniforms, and floating banners, as the
hostile forces move along to battle.

But, in a British fox-hunt, sorrow never shews
its face. When the hour for pastime has arrived,
we behold, assembled at the cover, gentlemen, with
here and there a lovely lady clad in scarlet, and
mounted on steeds, which for breed and beauty
are unparalelled in the annals of hunting. The
hounds too, may rival those of Acton himself,
who, poor fellow, made the most unfortunate mis-
take of riding up to the fountain, whilst Diana was
in the bath. For this unintentional act on his
part, the angry goddess changed him into a stag,
and he was worried unknowingly by his own
hounds. The names of these dogs, were much
more sonorous, than those which we Englishmen
give to our own dogs now-a-days. There was in
Acteon’s pack, “ Pamphagus, et Dorceus, et
Oribasus, Arcades omnes, Nebrophonosque valens,
et trux cum Leelape Theron.”

But, to our subject. The whin-cover is drawn
in scientific style. Up starts Reynard, with brush
as clean as ladies gloves,—and fur in supreme per-
fection. “Tally ho,—gone away, gone away,”
resounds from hill to hill. Following on his track,
swiftly sweeps the pack, with horse and foot, in

one tremendous rush; as though poor Charley

246 THE FOX.

Stuart had risen again, and they were glad to see
him. By the way, he could not have been worse
than any of the four Georges, if we may believe
the eloquent Mr. ‘Thackeray.

But this means nothing ;—let us attend to the
hunt. See there! Sir Anthony is down in the
mire, and his horse has rolled over him. Never
mind. The horse has merely broken its neck ;—
and the baronet, has lost his right ear, by a kick
from the dying steed. Sir Anthony will soon be
sound again, if his surgeon only bleeds him
well :—and as for the horse,—there are more in
the stable, ready to take the field.

Dash on, my boys,—grand and lovely is the
sylvan scenery !

‘‘ Before us, trees unnumbered rise,
Beautiful in various dyes :
The gloomy pine,—the poplar blue,
The yellow beech,—the sable yew,
The slender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak, with broad spread boughs.”

Behold to the left,—a whipper-in is bogged, up
to the middle in a quagmire !—whilst the young
squire, by one desperate leap, has barely escaped a
similar predicament. And farther onwards, on yon
rising slope, his reverence the Vicar, has left
behind him, a portion of his coat in the hawthorn

THE FOX. : Q47

hedge,—and has just this moment, come to the
eround, head over heels, from the neck of his
plunging horse. But, luckily, he is up again, on
his unorthodox legs,— none the worse for his
tumble. The horse has galloped away! No mat-
ter,—some of the company will stop it, and restore
it to the undaunted rider. O what noble sport!
«« Nimrod’s courage is a treasure,
Hunting is the Briton’s pleasure :

Rich the treasure,—sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.”

The chase grows hotter:—nothing can exceed
the excitement. Farmers leave their ploughs and
horses ;—shooters quit their stubble fields ;—and
every son of Ceres is on the move. All run helter
skelter to enjoy a treat of fox-hunting. Push on

my boys, but, at the same time, remember what the

horse formerly said to its rider,—‘“up the hill,
push me not,—down the hill, spur me not,—on
level ground,—spare me not.” The hounds are in
full cry:—what delicious music in the ears of
Nimrod !

But, suddenly, the cries are heard no more The
sportsmen, as is often the case, have pressed too
keenly on the pack, and lo!—the dogs are at
default. No longer can the scent be touched upon.
Reynard, whose fate seemed sealed beyond all

QA48 THE FOX.

doubt, is saved at last, from death. Sly little
fellow !— taking advantage of the momentary
pause, he has just had time to squeeze himself
into one of his friendly fastnesses hard by,—too
strait for even terriers to enter;—and too rocky
to admit the operations of the spade and axe.
There he sets both hounds and huntsmen at
defiance. |

Other covers are drawn, but no fox can be
found.

It is now time to give up the chase and disperse ;
for see the wintry sun is nearly at its setting,—and
the pack is far from its kennel. The sportsmen retire
from the field :—each individual having had a day
of rational amusement, with a bountiful stock of
fresh air, and an increase of spirits for their differ-
ent callings ;—so that, in fact, the fox has been
to them, the best of all physicians.

But this manly and exhilarating sport is only
suited to Great Britain. Foreign nations have
their pastimes of another sort, which we perhaps
may undervalue, I think that Englishmen shewed
bad taste, when they introduced fox hunting into
the Roman States. Nothing could exceed the
astonishment of the Italians, when they witnessed
the arrival of our hounds and horses. They could
not by any chance be made to comprehend the

THE FOX. 249

meaning of so much expense, parade, and osten-~
tation ; and the rustics of the campagna could not
believe the testimony of their own eyes, when they
beheld men in scarlet dresses, first searching for
a paltry fox, and then pursuing it over their rough
and swampy country, at the risk of limb and life.

A few of these simple rustics imagining, that
there must be something very agreeable to English-
men, in the flesh of a fox,—or valuable to them, in
its fur; bethought themselves, that the present
opportunity was a good one, to put a little money
into their own pockets, and to benefit the neigh-
bourhood, by thinning the noxious vermin.

Wherefore, without the aid of hounds and horses,
these poor men soon captured a brace of foxes,
which they carried to the new hunting establish-
ment, and claimed a small reward, for their well-
timed services. Let us fancy for a moment, the
dismal faces of the master and his huntsman, when
the two foxes were taken dead out of the bag, and
placed at their feet. They raved and swore in
such a manner, that the poor countrymen, without
waiting for the expected reward,—took to their
heels, as fast as they could go, and deemed them-
selves fortunate, in being able to escape with a
sound skin.

Ever since this scene occurred, I can well con-

250 THE FOX.

ceive the horror and contempt in which the Italian
boors, hold our scarlet-coated gentlemen, whom
they believe to have come from the far north, to teach
them a new mode of thinning foxes, at the risk
of life, by rashness and by falls from horseback.
Whilst we ourselves were in Rome, the master
of the hunt, took a random leap, and broke his
neck on the spot.

Some five and fifty years ago, I was at a fox-
hunt which I shall never forget. We threw off
with customary pomp and zeal, but ended with
a farce, ludicrous in the extreme. It so affected
the noble owner of the hounds, that, he lost all
temper, and made grimaces, as though he had been
stung by pismires.

In the afternoon, after a good run, we found
ourselves on the extensive line of covers, which
stretch from Newmillerdam, up to Woolley Edge,
through King’s-wood and Bush-cliff. The fox was
obstinate, and would not break cover, but stuck
closely to the woods at Newmillerdam, nor could
the united discord, (if I may be allowed the expres-
sion) of hounds and horns, and merry men on foot,
cause him to quit bis chosen quarters. More than
an hour was spent in chasing him to and fro, but
without success. Now he was on the edge of the
wood :—then back again to its deepest recesses,
and so on :—puzzling both dog and man.

THE FOX. PON |

I happened to be resting quietly on my horse,
in one of the rides, when old Reynard, panting and
bewildered, with his once handsome brush now
wet and dirty, and his tongue lolling out of his
mouth, wished to cross the path; but, on seeing ~
me, he stopped short, and stared me full in the
face. ‘Poor little fellow,” said I to him, “ thy
fate is sealed !—thy strength has left thee; in a
few minutes more, thou wilt be torn in pieces.”
He then shrunk back again into the wood, as if
to try another chance for life.

The noble lord now rode up to the spot where
I was waiting, and said, that, as they could not
force the fox into the open fields, he had made
up his mind to have it killed in cover; and that,
he had given the necessary orders ; which however
were not fulfilled, according to my lord’s intention,
as you shall shortly learn.

We were about two hundred yards from the
king’s highway, when a butcher, who was going
on it, thought that he might tarry for a while,
and enjoy the sport. So he and his dog got over
the hedge, and came softly up to where we had
stationed ourselves. At that unlucky moment,
Reynard made his appearance, so completely
exhausted, that, [ was convinced his “last day's
run was over. In a moment, the butcher's dog,

ROQ THE FOX.

a gaunt and over-fattened cur without a tail, flew at
poor Reynard, and killed him outright :—the
hounds coming up just in time to snarl and
quarrel for his bleeding carcass, which they
devoured, before the huntsman had made his
appearance.

Thus ended this day's sport :—most certainly,
its termination was humiliating. A _ greasy
butcher's dog, the lowest of its race, came up,
just in the nick of time to give the death blow :-—
aye, to accomplish which, the best-bred hounds
in Christendom, had spent the long-live day.
‘“ Ka turba, cupidine prede,

Per rupes, scopulosque, adituque carentia saxa,

Qua via difficilis, quaque est via nulla, feruntur.”

But, so it sometimes happens. In our own
ranks, we have occurrences most sad and mor-
tifying. Thus, Charles XII.,—the courageous
king of Sweden, fell by an unknown hand.

“ His fall was destined to a foreign strand,
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand.”
And Nelson too, the bravest of the brave, was slain
by an ignoble musket-ball. And latterly, no one
will ever know what fatal hand deprived us of our
valiant General Cathcart, in the Crimean desolating
eonflict.—“ Sic transit gloria mundi.” |
If our Nimrod-earl had carried in his hand a

THE FOX. 253

battle-axe, and not a hunting-whip, I saw by his
ungovernable rage at what had happened, that
nothing could have saved the butcher's dog,
(which, with its master, had regained in haste the
king’s highway) from utter extermination.

I am, and always have been, a staunch advocate
for protecting the breed of foxes; and, I trust
that our sportsmen will allow, that when they draw
my covers, they very seldom meet with dis
appointment.

I consider that the diversion of fox-hunting
does signal service to the nation at large. The
very nature of it, precludes the commission of those
disorders, which too often prevail in other amuse-
ments. Who is there, in these days, that can
point to any recreation of a public nature, free
from crime ?—aye, from systematic crime. Horse-
racing to wit, where we observe knavery and
cheating in superlative refinement. How many
of the craft are virtually robbed, before the race-
horse leaves the stable ?—how many of these noble
animals have actually been poisoned by designing
betters? What bolts, and locks, and vigils are
required, to guard against, and shut out mischief
of the blackest dye? And, when the day of
starting comes, say what hordes of pick-pockets
swarm in every quarter? These are watched by

254 THE FOX.

policemen, whose main hope of preferment depends
upon the number of rascals they detect, and upon
the valour which they shew in capturing their
prey. No thieves,—no good doings for policemen.
A sorry state of things forsooth!—and lately
rendered worse, by what is called a rural police,
useless and expensive. Our thieves here in York-
shire are quite knowing enough, to dog the
policeman into one village, and then to plunder
us in another.

Not so with fox-hunting :—the very nature of
which sets gambling, and all its pernicious tricks
at absolute defiance. It is not confined to one
particular spot of ground: but, like the dancers
of our poet Gray, is “now pursuing, now
retreating :'—now to the north, now to the east,
or south, or west; just as the quarry takes it into
its head to fly: and these desultory movements
will never suit the tactics of a gambler, or of
a pickpocket. There is nothing stationary in the
boundless realms of Nimrod. No sooner is the
word of command given by the huntsman, for
the pack to enter cover, than the whole multitude
of sportsmen is on the alert: not one of them
having the least conception where the chase will
end, so that, no public-house as in a horse-race,
will have prepared expressly, its adulterated ale for

THE FOX. 259

thirsty callers,—as these may be many miles off
during the whole course of the day.

Nobody, be he ever so calculating a knave,
will have the opportunity of betting seriously upon
any particular horse, as it cannot possibly be
watched with due attention. It may suddenly
get its neck broken, and be heard of no more,
as I myself once witnessed. Its rider may be
thrown, or may not be disposed to continue longer
in the chase.

These, and many other incidents, are perpetually
occurring, and militate decidedly against gambling
in any of its odious phases. In fine, they are an
everlasting bar to the entrance of prowling knaves
and calculating thieves, into our delightful, healthful,
peaceful, and national exercise, weil known under
the usual denomination of fox-hunting.

Long may Great Britain boast of her useful
pastime, (which is unique of its kind) free from
knaves, free from pick-pockets, free from the
necessity of a police-attendance, free from black-
legs,—in a word, free from everything that may
cause a man to say, he repents of having joined
in the chase, or to confess, that he has not found
himself better in health and spirits, after the day’s
sport was over, than before it began. It is my
wish, as I have already declared, my wish, my

256 THE FOX.

ardent wish, to cherish and protect the breed of
foxes :—not that I deny, however, a man, once or
twice in his life, may be reduced to the repugnant
necessity of committing vulpicide or fox-murder.
This has been my case: although the act was
so imperative in its circumstances, that it did not
bring with it the remorse of conscience, which
it would have done under different feelings. For,
be it known, that, in the eyes of those who love
the chase, there can hardly be a more heinous
crime, than that of wilfully and maliciously assas-
sinating a fox. The base, unpatriotic deed, would
doom the remorseless perpetrator of it to everlasting
exile in that region, known to all honourable
Englishmen, under the name of “ Coventry.”

The reader shall now have a brief unvarnished
account of what took place here some four or
five years ago. Justice to myself, and to the pets
which have the range of my park, forced me to
become the executioner of the largest and sleekest
fox, that, perhaps was ever seen in these Vandal-
regions of Yorkshire's West-riding district.

We have a park wall so high, that neither fox
nor hound, can surmount it without assistance.
There had been a snow-storm in the morning ; and
as the keeper was going his rounds, he observed
a sheep-bar commonly so called, reared against

as
id pe
-

THE FOX. 257

the wall. Fearing mischief from without, he
requested the farmer to remove it during the day,
lest poachers or “ varment” might take advantage
of its position ;—and thus find a commodious way
over the wall into the preserve,—not of game only,
but of many other animals. The farmer said he
would attend to the bar, but, somehow or other, he
forgot to do so; and thus, the sheep or stack-bar
remained just where it had been placed.

Although the night was cold and rainy, Reynard
found himself obliged to turn out of his den, and
to cater for his numerous family. Coming up to
the bar in question, he mounted on it, and thence
sprang on to the wall itself. Seeing Paradise
below him, he must, no doubt have longed vehe-
mently to partake of the dainties which he was
sure it contained. In fact, having lost his usual
caution when out a prowling, he gave way to the
temptation, and took a desperate leap into the
park, which consists of two hundred and sixty
acres. All ‘his movements were clearly visible
the next morning, by the prints of his feet in the
snow, which had fallen in the early part of the night.

Here then, Reynard by his own _ rashness,
became a prisoner for the remainder of his days:

a voluntary exile into a little St. Helena, where

he lived and died.

258 THE FOX.

A few years before this transgression on the part
of incautious Reynard; my friend, Mr. Carr, of
Bunston Hill, near Gateshead, had made me a
present of two very fine Egyptian geese.

They were great beauties, and wonderfully
admired by everybody who saw them. During the
season of frost and snow, they were admitted into
the saddle-room at night, for the sake of warmth.
Sometimes, however, they failed to make their
appearance at the door: but this did not cause us
any apprehension, as we knew that they were safe
from harm.

On the morning after Reynard had made his
desperate descent into our elysium, one of the geese
was missing: the keeper having just sounded the
alarm, that there was a fox in the park. On search
being made, the remains of the Egyptian goose
were found at the foot of an aged sycamore tree ;
whilst all around, the prints of a fox’s feet, were
visible in the snow. By their irregularity, we
conjectured that Reynard had had tough work, ere
he mastered the goose. There could be no doubt
whatever, but that he had been exercising his
vicious calling, and had made a dainty meal upon
the luckless bird. We were in a dilemma of
no ordinary kind. The state of the weather was
too frosty to suit our sportsmen. Neither dared we

THE FOX. 259

to open the park-doors, lest proscribed enemies,
such as rabbits, &c., should gain admittance; and
thus cause a second evil, as bad as the first. Nor
could Reynard be allowed to enjoy any longer
his present position; as the remaining Egyptian
goose, fowls, ducks and game, must inevitably
have fallen a sacrifice to his unbounded voracity.
Wherefore, running the risk of our foxhunters’
high displeasure, and quite prepared to be consi-
dered by that part of the Nimrod-community,
(which sumetimes does not see things in their true
light) as a modern Vandal, I signed old Reynard’s
death-warrant, to be put in execution without loss
of time. Whereupon, a spring-gun, by way of
scaffold,— with a heavy charge of buck-shot, (to
answer the purpose of a rope,) was put down with
studied science in order that a stop might be put
to the intruder’s career for ever.

As we read in the famous ballad of Chevy-
Chase,—

“Against Sir Hugh Montgomerie,
So right the shaft was set,
The grey-goose wing, that was thereon,
In his heart’s-blood was wet.”
So was our implement of death, pointed at Sir Rey-
nard. A little before two o'clock, on the following
morning, a tremendous explosion announced that
XR

260 THE FOX.

the gun had gone off. Reynard, in his rounds,
having come in contact with the wire in ambush,
fell, dead as Mark Antony:—the contents of
the gun having passed quite through his heart.
Thus, the unfortunate brute paid the final penalty
for his unnecessary intrusion into the realm of
prohibition.

Although the longing of the fox after poultry
cannot be disputed, still, when the hunt is taken
into consideration, his peccadillos are forgotten,
and he becomes a valuable animal to us.

Farmers and hen-wives have always an oppor-
tunity of protecting their roosts, and of securing
their poultry from Reynard’ grasp, at a trifling
expense.

But, now-a-days, they have to guard against
certain bipeds, far more destructive than the fox
and all its family put together. Not a fowl-roost
nor a goose-house, in all the West-Riding of York-
shire, can escape the plundering attacks of these
midnight villains. Too idle to work, they resort
to the ale-house, whence they emerge, and shape
their course to the different farm-yards. If they
find the door of the hen-house too strong, they
mount aloft, and obtain an entrance through the
roof. Whole roosts are cleared in this manner,
whilst the thieves themselves, are rarely brought te

justice.

THE FOX. 26 1

Were it known, ten miles from our own village,
that it possessed a fowl-department of easy and
of safe access, that fowl-department would certainly
be robbed before the dawn of day.

The Hunt, has it always in its power to make
staunch friends of the farmers, by remunerating
them for Josses in poultry, really sustained, and
where the fox alone has been the plunderer. Our
gamekeepers too, partaking of an annual good
dinner provided by the members of the hunt,
in case the pack consists of what we denominate
“confederate hounds ;” and receiving on the same
day, their perquisite for stopping the earths on the
midnight previous to the hunting morning; and
also a bonus for a find, as it is usually called;
everything would then go on, well and satisfactorily
to all parties.

If I shall succeed in shewing that the fox is a
valuable quadruped to usin a national point of view,
I shall be amply repaid for my trouble, and perfectly
satisfied. Indeed, it has been for this end alone,
that I have taken up the pen on this subject.

Nobody can be more convinced than I am,
of the fox’s worthlessness, when contemplated as
a little sculking, pilfering, and rapacious animal,—
the farmer’s detestation, and the hen-wife’s bane.
But when, on the other hand, I behold in him full
powers to afford amusement and exercise to all

262 THE FOx.

ranks of people, ‘tis then, that the little fellow
becomes dear to me, and shall always command my
protection and my good word.

The fox requires no particular attention at
our hands, by way of keeping up the breed.
Only let us prevent poisoned food, and traps from
being placed in its runs; and nothing more will
be asked from us. Its own peculiar habits, its
nocturnal industry, and its uncommon knack of
avoiding danger, will always enable it to support
itself in food, and to provide handsomely for a
numerous family, wherever it may be. To be sure,
young and ill-natured farmers will possibly exclaim,
that the trampling of the horses in the rising corn-
fields, must always occasion a certain amount of
damage. But, experience shews, that this is not
the case: and the making of gaps in the hedges,
is unworthy of notice, as they consist of dead
wood; and can easily be repaired, soon as the
arrival of spring shall announce the cessation of
rural amusements in the field. |

But, my pen, or my tongue, are ever on the
move, when hunting is the topic. I fancy that
I already tire the too indulgent reader. Wherefore,
IT will bid him farewell: and should he chance
to be one of old Nimrod’s genuine breed, may he

enjoy good health, good hounds, good horses, and —
good temper.

ON SNAKES.

“NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSET.

WERE I to offer a treatise in defence of Nero,
or of Herod, or of our own Harry the Eighth, per-
haps, I should not astonish my reader more than
Iam about to do, in an attempt to advocate the
cause of Snakes.

Possibly, the sad affair in Paradise, where the
wily serpent acted so conspicuous a part, may have
entailed upon its family, the execration of man-
kind. Certainly, notorious is the fact, that the
whole tribe of serpents, great and small, — noxious
or innoxious, in all parts of the known world,
can find no mercy at the hand of man. A Bengal
tiger, crouching in the jungle, is not more dreaded
by an eastern traveller, than our little English
adder, basking on a sunny bank, is feared by those
who go to gather primroses.

In fact, all nations, civilized or rude, are unani-
mous in asserting the malignity of snakes; whilst

264 ON SNAKES.

dictionaries are ransacked by writers, for words
of sufficient potency, to place these pretty reptiles
in an evil point of view.

When I was in the forests of Guiana, I could
never coax an Indian to approach a snake with
composure, although I shewed him, that no danger
was to be apprehended, if he only went the right
way to work.

History teems with the evil doings of snakes.

Poor Orpheus lost his beautiful Kurydicé on
their wedding day, by the bite of a snake which
stung her in the heel, as she was dancing on the
lawn with her bridesmaids. Laocoon and his sons
were squeezed to a mummy, by two enormous sea-
serpents. Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, having lost
her sweetheart and her diadem; procured a snake
to end her insupportable misfortunes. All Den-
mark, as we read in Shakspeare, was persuaded
that her king had died from the venomous sting of
a snake.

A Roman legion fought and slew a tremendous
serpent in the wilds of Africa. We are told, that,
formerly, there lived a family by the name of
Gorgon, several young ladies of which, had snakes
on their heads in lieu of hair; and that these
damsels were looked upon with very great BORE,
wherever they went.

ON SNAKES. 200

Snakes in these latter times, are by no means
in favour with man. JI was once on board a
Yankee brig, from Cayenne to Paramaribo. The
captain had some great grudge or other, against
the English ;—for, whenever he saw a vessel in the
distance, he would take it for a British cruiser,
and remark, “there goes the old serpent, from
whose sting, thank heaven, we are now for ever
free.”

I have adduced these instances out of many,
to shew, that snakes have never been brought
forward for admiration; but, on the contrary, to
zmpress mankind with the idea, that they are devil-
ish and dangerous things, always to be shunned, or
killed, as occasion may offer.

With this little introductory preface, I now
propose to offer a few remaks on the serpent family.
Possibly, they may be of use to those young
naturalists who go in quest of zoological adven-
tures, either at home or abroad.

Putting aside hard names, and never ending
classification, let us divide all snakes whatever,
into two separate families, and no more: viz., those
which have poisonous fangs, and those which have
none.

The poisonous fangs are invariably on the upper
jaw, but they are not fixed on the bone. They are

266 ON SNAKES.

always curved downwards like the blade of a
scythe. There is a little opening on the convex
part near the point. From this opening to the
point, which is as sharp as a needle, the fang is
quite solid; but, hollow from it to the root. This
point may aptly be styled the pioneer of death,
as it makes the wound, into which the poison of
the irritated serpent flows through the hollow part
of the fang. It is the fatal weapon which causes a
snake to be so much dreaded, and condemns the
whole race to universal detestation; although, in
fact, not one snake in ten, has been armed by
nature with the deadly fang. Still, as all snakes
are more or less of the same form, especially when
viewed at a distance, every individual is held in
horror :—the guiltless suffering equally with the
culty.

Armed with a poison-fang, the snake, at one
single stroke, (never repeated, as far as I could

see,) avenges itself on the unfortunate animal —
which has trodden upon it, or has put it in bodily

fear, by disturbing its repose.

When not in readiness to inflict a wound, these —

two poison fangs assume a recumbent position, —

so as not to interfere with the action of the ordin-
ary teeth which are firmly fixed,—are very small,
and most admirably formed to seize their prey, and
to send it down into the stomach.

ON SNAKES. 267

All snakes have these teeth, used only for snatch
and swallow; as mastication, or grinding of food
in the mouth cannot be performed by snakes.
The prey is laid hold ,of, by these crooked little
teeth, in the first instance, after which, it is slowly
swallowed, without having undergone any change
since it entered the mouth of the serpent.

At the root of the two poison-fangs, are smaller
ones, but much too pliable and tender to inflict
a wound. They appear to be a provision by
nature, in ease that accident or disease should
render the mature fangs unservicable.

Take away these mature fangs, and immediately
the snake is rendered harmless.

Those amusing knaves who profess to be serpent
charmers, always take care to have these fangs
extracted, before they exhibit their wonderful pow-
ers in the presence of an assembled multitude. My
life upon it,—none but a devil incarnate would
dare to put his hand into the mouth of a snake
possessing these fangs uninjured. A bite would be
the certain consequence, and either death or excru-
ciating pain, the result.

Snake charmers, taking advantage of the uni-
versal horror in which all serpents are held;
contrive to manage the thing to a nicety, either by
extracting the poisonous fangs, or by making free

268 ON SNAKES.

with those snakes, which they have ascertained
have no fangs at all. In both cases, those impu-
dent rogues, known as snake charmers, are perfectly
free from danger; and, as they find by experience
that snakes are very docile animals, they easily
train them to their own liking,—until they become
as playful and familiar as kittens.

It would be difficult to demonstrate, why poison-
ous fangs have been given by nature to some
snakes, and denied to others. If, for the purpose
of defence,—then, we might look for them in all
snakes. So far as I have been able to observe,
they are seldom brought into action by the snake
which possesses them.

Snakes are not revengeful;—neither are they
prone to be the aggressors. I would hazard a
conjecture, that, snakes in capturing their food,
very seldon, if ever, make use of the poison-fangs:
because, a snake, without these fangs, can just
as easily secure its prey, as a snake with them.
I leave this knotty question to be unravelled by the
clever zoologists of our own times ;—hoping that
they will be more successful, than they have been
in their labours to convince us, that birds do really
anoint their plumage, with the matter contained in
the oil-gland on the rump. Firstly, the word ozé-
gland is a misnomer. Secondly, none of them, as

ON SNAKES. 269

yet, (save the American who is not to be trusted)
have ever been able to detect the smallest particle
of the said matter, on the plumage of birds.
Thirdly, all oily substances whatever, are preju-
dicial to the texture of feathers. And fourthly,
some tribes of birds, have no gland given them by
nature.

Well ;—but, be this as it may, the supposed oil-
gland of birds, or say, the use of it, is still on the
anvil. ‘‘ Grammatici certant,’ &c. Let me pro-
ceed with the snakes.

In the damp and gloomy forests of Guiana, are
to be found, some of the largest snakes as yet
discovered. There, basking in the noonday sun,
wherever a discontinuance of the dense foliage,
will admit its rays to enter, these magnificent
monsters enjoy an undisturbed repose during the
day. When night sets in, they leave their favourite
haunts, and silently glide forth in quest of food.

The nauseous smell or foetor, which is said by
some authors, to come from the bodies of these
monster snakes, and to infect the atmosphere, is
fabulous. The whimsical account of it, deserves a
place on the shelves of a nursery library. I have
never perceived anything of the sort, although it
has been my good fortune to come in contact with
giant serpents. Did such a foetor really exist,

270 ON SNAKES.

to the extent which authors have described, other
animals could not live with any comfort, under its
suffocating influence; and it would be a salutary
warning to them, that an enemy was in the neigh-
bourhood. Their precipitous retiring from it,
would be the means of starving the serpent to
death, for want of ordinary nourishment. Once
I passed a whole night (see the “ Wanderings ”) in
the same abandoned house with a living Coula-
canara snake of extraordinary size. No bad nor
nauseous smell infected the apartment during any
portion of the night.

Most lovely are the colours of some snakes,
when exposed to the rays of a tropical sun; but
they fade in death, and cannot possibly be restored
by any application known at present,—saving that
of paint;—which, when compared with nature's —
inimitable tints, and applied by the most scientific
hand, is but a mean and sorry substitute.

I can restore the exact form and features of
dissected animals. But, there I stop. Scales of
snakes, and those of fishes, after death, must
infallibly lose their metallic splendour, do what you
choose ; a skin will assume the hue of parchment.

Could these sad changes by the hand of death,
be obviated with success, then indeed, our speci-
mens for museums, would be as though in life ;—

ON SNAKES. 27 1

saving the loss of motion. But, on viewing them,
after all has been done that can be done, we are
forced to exclaim with poor Margaret, in Mallet’s
inimitable ballad,

“That face, alas, no more is fair,
That lip no longer red ;
Dark are my eyes, now closed in death,
And every charm is fled.”

All snakes in gliding onwards, take a motion
from right to left, or vice versa,—but never up and
down,—the whole extent of the body beig in
contact with the ground, saving the head which
is somewhat elevated. This is equally observable
both on land, and in water. Thus, when we see
a snake represented in an up and down attitude,
we know at once that the artist is to blame.

The common and accepted notion, that snakes
can fascinate animals to their destruction, by a
dead set of the eye at them, 1s erroneous, and ought
to be exploded. Snakes, in fact, have no such
power. Choose what position you please, either
exactly in front of a serpent, or on either side
of it, and its eye will appear as though it were
looking directly at you. ‘Take a clear view of
it, and you will see that it does not move. It
has been placed by nature under a scale, similar in
composition to the scales of the body; and when

272 ON SNAKES.

the snake casts its slough, this scale comes away
with it, and is replaced by a new one on the new
skin. The cast-off slough always appears inside
out. I am not a believer in the evil eye of snakes.
Their eyes are very beautiful; and no doubt, they

would be much admired, did the beholder lay aside

his prejudices, and consider that the snake before
him, has no intention to create alarm, nor to
meditate a work of mischief.

In no instance have I seen a snake act on the
offensive. But, when roused into action by the
fear of sudden danger, ’tis then, that in self-defence,
a snake will punish the intruder by a prick (not
a laceration) from the poison-fang, fatal, or not
fatal, according to its size and virulence. “ Noli
me tangere. Do not touch me, with intent to
harm me, is a most suitable motto for a snake.
This has been my opinion of snakes ever since
I have had anything to do with them. The con-
cluding adventure in this essay, will shew the
reader, that I have not been labouring under a
delusion.

Our own snakes, here in England, are scarcely
worth notice, so far as their venom is concerned.
One species, which I designate under the name
of adder, is a harmless little fellow, and very useful

during the summer months, in.clearmg the fields

Ww

ON SNAKES. a75

of mice. I say summer; for when the heats have
passed away, it retires under-ground, there to
slumber in profound repose until the invigorating
sun of April, warms it into action. Our other
snake is the well-known viper, armed with two
small poison-fangs, which, by the way, are very
seldom used.

The blind worm, wrongly so called, is harm-
lessness itself.

The young naturalist, in his rambles through
the country, has but little to apprehend from the
viper. He may pass close to one, a thousand times,
and if he does not actually put his foot upon it, he
may be quite sure, that the viper will never use
its fangs against him, nor even shew them by way
of menace.

When we consider the immense extent of tropical
America, and view its endless woods, we are forced
to admit that snakes are comparatively few. I have
seen more monkeys in one day, than I have found
snakes during my entire sojourn in the forests.
When [I did fall in with them, (and they were not
wanted for dissection,) whether they were poisonous
or harmless, I would contemplate them for a few
minutes, ere I proceeded, and would say, “‘ Gen-
tlemen, of rainbow-colors, be not alarmed at my
intrusion. J am not come hither to attempt your

A

274 - ON SNAKES.

lives, nor to offer wanton molestation. This
boundless territory affords an ample range to both
yourselves and me. Our interests can never clash ©
as though we were in commerce: so pray enjoy
yourselves, and let me do the same.”

I find it somewhat difficult, to give instructions
by the pen, how to distinguish a snake with fangs,
from one without them, as yvu are travelling
through the woods. Many of the former present
an appearance, which clearly shews their nature :—
the Cerastes of Egypt to wit. Its flat head,—its
scales, somewhat in color like to the fallen leaves,
its thick and short form, at once give warning,
that, if the traveller should wish to take it, he must
go very cautiously to work.

The labarri too, of Guiana, is easily known by
its color and appearance, and warns us how we act.

Some again, are of so dubious a composition,
that you are at a loss whether to consider them
innocent or dangerous serpents. The whip-snakes,
that is, long and slender snakes not unlike the
thong of a whip, (hence their name) throughout the
whole of Guiana, may be handled with perfect
safety; and I have no doubt in my own mind,
that all snakes of this make, no matter what
region they inhabit, are harmless in every sense
of the word.

ON SNAKES. 21D

I was once put to my wits end, as to whether
the snake before me was armed with poison-fangs
or not. It lay reposing on the branch of a bush
about four feet or so from the ground, and was of
marvellous beauty. It shewed a vivid green
throughout the whole of its body which was
chequered with markings of ivory white. This
puzzled me much ; and for the life of me, I could
not pronounce, whether it were of good or of evil
parentage. So I laid hold of it with all possible
caution. It proved to be eight feet long, and
venomous.

Confiding in the notion that snakes never use
their poison-fangs, except when driven to extre-
mities, J would rove in the forests, day after day,
without shoes or stockings, and never consider ©
myself in danger from them.

Perhaps no part of the known world, not even
the wooded swamps of Senegal in Africa, produces
such a show of magnificent serpents, as the region
of South America, extending from the river
Amazons to the Orinoco. This region I have
explored with uncommon pleasure, care, and satis-
faction; and did inclination incite me, I could
produce many volumes of amusement and instruc-
tion on its zoological treasures. O! the beauty, the
erandeur, the innocence and supposed malignity

ie

276 ON SNAKES.

of serpents with which I have come in contact
during my stay in the regions beyond Demerara
and Essequibo !

I think I have mentioned in a former little work,
that when I was in Angustura, the capital of the
Orinoco, a Spaniard shewed me part of a serpent’s
skin, which, judging from its amazing thickness,
could not have been less than seventy feet in
length. ‘The colonists have appropriately given to
this serpent, the name of matatoro, or bull- killer.

Let me here remark, that, properly speaking, all
snakes are boa-constrictors. Constrictor, sounds
learnedly to an ordinary ear. It is a Jatin word,
derived from constringere, to bind; and when
joined with boa it signifies a snake which entwines
the folds of its body round the captured prey. I
have seen a very small snake in the act of com-
pressing a little bird to death. Let one anecdote
suffice.

Some five-and-thirty years ago, my friend the
late Mr. Edmonstone and myself, were in the forest,
about a mile from his house in Mibiri-creek, a
tributary stream to Camouni-creek, which flows
into the river Demerara. Finding himself more
inclined for rest, than for ranging, (which is often
the case in hot countries,) he said he would go
home :—and so we parted company.

ON SNAKES. mie

Hearing the report of his gun, a short time after
he had left me, I conjectured that he had met with
something worthy of his notice.

As I was returning to breakfast, by the same
path along which he had retired, I saw a common
yellow-breasted shrike hanging from the stump
of a tree. Under the impression that he had fixed
it there to attract my notice, I went up to the
‘stump, and quietly took hold of the bird. A hiss
immediately announced the nature of the case.
A young coulacanara snake, not more than three
feet long, (and so like in color to the stump on
which it lay, that I had not distinguished one
from the other,) had caught the bird, and twisted
itself around it, and was holding it prisoner. The
skin of this snake 1s now in one of my drawers.

This interference with snakes may be deemed
rash and condemnatory by a reader safe and snug
at his own fireside. But, custom, they say is
second nature ; and I can assure him, that generally
speaking, there is very little to be apprehended
in the way of danger, during a sojourn amongst the
wild beasts of the forest. Snakes especially, are
of so retiring a nature, that they may be considered
as presenting no obstruction during your journey
onwards. Formerly, by constant habit, I would
just care as little about a snake, as our brave

278 ON SNAKES.

warriors cared for the bomb-shell, whizzing through
the air, at the siege of doomed Sebastopol. In
fact, the thought that I was to lose my life, through
the venom emitted from the poison-fang of a snake,
never once entered my head.

We have no vipers in this neighbourhood, but
adders are plentiful within the park wall, where
I encourage and protect them. [I love to see
them basking on a dunghill, or catching the
meridian rays of our short summer’s sun, on the
southern bank of a hawthorn hedge. Sometimes
they will ascend into the trees to the height of
twenty feet.

I despair of persuading my neighbours to enter
into these feelings. They seem to have a consti-
tutiona] antipathy against all crows and magpies,
jays and hawks, and snakes. A keeper, who can
massacre the greatest number of these interesting
denizens of earth and air, is sure to rise the highest
in his employer's estimation.

As most travellers in quest of natural history,
probably have not been sufficiently versed in the
habits of serpents, to distinguish those which
ought to be avoided, from those which may be
approached with perfect safety ; they take the alarm
at every snake which they see; thus holding the
whole family in utter abhorrence. And this, by-

ON SNAKES. 279

the-way, is natural enough, when we reflect, that,
serpents in general, have a great affinity to each
other, so far as appearance and habits are concerned.

Whilst passing through our own fields, we can
easily distinguish the lordly bull from the rest of
the herd ; and we prudently keep at a proper dis-
tance. Again, in traversing a village, we at once
know the surly mastiff from the watchful sheep-
dog. But, this is not the case with regard to
snakes. When viewed even at a short distance
they may all be poisonous, or all harmless to the
eye of an inexperienced rover.

I have penned down these few notes on the
snake family, not to intimidate the ardent young
naturalist, nor to make him fancy, that his life is
in perpetual danger, whilst he is traversing the
wilds in far distant countries. On the contrary, I
wish to encourage him in his praiseworthy career.

Our histories of snakes are as fabulous and
incorrect as those of monkeys. Take the following
quotation for example. “All along the swampy
banks of the river Niger or Oroonoko, where the
the sun is hot, the forests thick, and the men but
few, the serpents cling amongst the branches of
the trees in infinite numbers, and carry on an
unceasing war against all other animals in their

vicinity.”

280 ON SNAKES.

Romantic and absurd assertion! I myself have
been for weeks together, in those swamps of the
river Oroonoko ;—not merely in an Indian canoe,
nor under the protecting canopy of a planter’s tent-
boat, but absolutely barefooted, and up to the
knees in water, ranging in anxious expectation,
with little fear of danger. The leeches, larger
than those of Kurope, were troublesome at times ;
for they took a fancy to my legs, and caused me to
keep asharp look out. But, as for snakes, I seldom
saw them: so, I concluded, that their carrying on
‘an unceasing war against all other animals, and
their clinging amongst the branches of the trees,
in infinite numbers,’ was an imaginary thing
which had no existence, saving in the productive
brain of him who had given us the strange account.

Again, we have stories as old as the hills over
whish we roam, of snakes sucking cows, and
passing the night in ladies’ bedrooms, so that they
might conveniently obtain a supper on human
milk. ,

Believe me, such absurdities as these, deserve no
credit,—and they only tend, to mar our history
of the serpent family. No serpent has ever yet
been discovered, or ever will be discovered with
a mouth so formed as to enable it, to suck the teats
of cows, or breasts of women.

ON SNAKES. 281

In days gone by, they tell us, that a king of
Elis, kept three thousand oxen in one stable, which —
had not been cleaned out for the space of thirty
years. The stench becoming insupportable, a well-
known man, by the name of Hercules, contracted
with the king to clear away the filth. Finding the
job more than he could manage, he turned the
river Alpheus through it, and succeeded admirably.

Would, that some modern contractor could be
found, to scour our own departments in zoology.
But, if he be engaged, and clean water be required,
he must not come into our manufacturing districts
to look for it. The rivers there, (that of once
merry Wakefield to wit,) have now become so
filthy and polluted, that, on looking at the stream,
you might fancy, it had its source from under
graves, and charnel houses.

In taking a retrospective view of what I have
written on the nature and habits of snakes, as it
differs widely from the accounts which we have
already received, I really hesitate to lay these notes
before the public. May the following little adven-
ture assist me in obtaining the reader's confidence.

It took place some three or four years ago, in
the rich and smoky town of Leeds.

There lived in the interior of the United States,
a country blacksmith by name Vangordon. One

282 ON SNAKES.

day, having been seized, not by a ferocious rattle-
snake, but by a vehement desire to see the land
of his old grandfather Bull, of whom he had heard
sO many strange accounts, as how that, the old
whimsical gentleman, fancies himself rolling in
riches, although actually in debt, to the incredible
amount of eight hundred millions of pounds ster-
ling, &c., &c., he resolved to cross the great pond
which intervenes betwixt the pastures of Mr. Bull,
and the interminable regions of his grandson
Jonathan. But, the cents were wanting. How-
ever after much cogitation he bethought himself of
a project, which probably had never entered into
the head of mortal man, since the day of Noah's
flood.

He calculated, that as his grandfather Bull, had
no rattlesnakes in his pastures at home, the old
gentleman perhaps would like to see, what kind
of animals they really are, when alive, and in
vigour.

So by hook and by crook, this enterpising son of
Vulcan, actually managed to capture from thirty
‘to forty rattlesnakes; and having placed them
carefully in a box, which he had got made for the
purpose, he set sail with them from New York,
on one fine summer’s morning, for the land of his
ancestors; where he exhibited them, with profit

ON SNAKES. 283

to himself, and with astonishment to all who went
to see them.

One of these serpents having died in Liverpool,
he most obligingly sent it to me for dissection.
As things turned out, nothing could have been
more acceptable, as you shall see anon.

There had been a story current, above one hun-
dred years old, (invented no doubt, by some
anxious old grandmother, to deter little children
from straying into the back woods,) of a boot and
rattlesnake.

It seems, that the poison-fang of the snake,
having pierced through the boot, came in contact
with the leg of the wearer, who died in a few
minutes. The snake then, glided away, leaving
the point of its fang in the boot. Sometime after
this melancholy event, another man, in trying on
the boot, got a prick from the fang; and after
having experienced most excruciating pain, gave
up the ghost. A few weeks after this, a third man
having bought the boots, he put them on, and
perished in like manner.

These sudden and extraordinary deaths, caused
an examination of the boots;— when, lo and
behold! the broken fang of a rattlesnake was
discovered sticking in the leather.

This most absurd and impossible fabrication was

284 ON SNAKES.

revived a few years ago;—was brought to this
country ;—was declared to be true ;—was printed,
and was believed by many of our learned fathers
in zoology. I protested vehemently against it, and
I pronounced it to be a barefaced Yankee-hoax.
But, my voice, was too feeble to be heard, or
not sufficiently important to engage attention.

And now to the rattlesnake which I had received
from Mr. Vangordon.

Whilst I was engaged on the head, my knife
slipped sideways, and instantaneously brought my
thumb in contact with one of the poison-fangs,
which entered deeply into the flesh, and caused the
blood to flow. It is almost needless to add, that
the wound healed, just as an ordinary wound
would have healed, without producing one single
unfavourable symptom.

Some time after this, a few professional gentle-
men in Leeds, wishing to test the effects of the
wourali poison, with the venom of a rattlesnake,
arranged with Mr. Vangordon to exhibit his
imported serpents; and an invitation was sent to
me, requesting that [ would attend, and bring with
me some poisoned arrows.

We all met at the house of our excellent phy-
sician Doctor Hobson, who had procured a few
Guinea pigs and rabbits for the occasion.

ON SNAKES. 285

Aware that Mr. Vangordon’s box was not well
adapted for a scientific examination of the snakes,
I had sent on before me, the large glass case which
had been made to contain my great ant-bear.

Whilst the assembled company seemed at a loss
to know how the rattlesnakes'were to be transferred
from one cage to another, I stepped forward, and
volunteered my services, having long been of
opinion, that a snake in a box, is not so dangerous
as a “ snake in the grass.”

““Gentlemen,’ said I, ‘‘ whenever we have to
deal with wild beasts, or with serpents, all depends
upon nerve and tact. Now, on this occasion, if
you will only be spectators mute and motionless,
the project which I have determined upon in my
own mind, will be carried out with ease and
with safety.

Having first opened the door of the ant-bear’s
cage, in order to receive its new tenants, I cau-
tiously approached Vangordon's box.

Scarcely had I lifted up the lid, when one of
_ the serpents, wearied no doubt with long imprison-
ment, glided, about half its length, through the
opening before it. The company instantly rushed
out of the room, as though the apparition of Death
were present amongst them. They brought to
my mind, those lines of Scotland's immortal poet,

286 ON SNAKES.

‘““when out the hellish legion sallied,’ away went
Tam O'Shanter. In the meantime, Dr. Hobson,
with his wonted presence of mind, had gently
pressed down the lid of the box, upon the back ~
of the snake, which, with a little help on my part,
was easily coaxed into the prison whence it had
wished to escape.

_ The remainder of the story is soon told.

Our professional gentlemen, who had fled from
the scene of apparent danger, returned into the
room, after having been assured that all was right.

I now approached the box, and quietly opened
the door. On this, the snakes began to move
their rattles, but kept their mouths quite shut.
Fearing no harm, I softly placed my hand behind
the head of the snake which was nearest to me,
and silently transferred it to the other cage. The
remaining seven-and-twenty were soon disposed
of in a similar manner.

All that I have to add, is, that the rabbits and
the guinea-pigs expired in a few minutes, under
the influence of the wourali poison: but, that those
which were bitten by the rattlesnakes, struggled
with death for a longer time. ‘They sank at last,
with a few convulsive struggles.

In writing these zoological notes, my chief object
has been to cast a ray of light on sundry dark

ON SNAKES. 287

spots which have appeared on the pages of Natural
History, and to amuse the reader,

Should he take it amiss that I have placed the
old virgin-queen, not among “those happy souls
who dwell in yellow meads of asphodel,” but in the
sulphurous walks beyond the river Styx, I would
entreat him to reflect how much we unoffending .
Catholics have been annoyed by incessant insults
to our ancient creed.

Formerly, when I was a lad, it was nothing but
the “Devil, the Pope, and the Pretender.” In
these times, if any weathercock doctor in unsound
theology wishes to acquire notoriety, or any Italian
renegado comes amongst us, to attack the Pope
with the fury of a demoniac, they are attentively
listened to, and the room is filled to overflowing.

Seeing the Church by law established in these
realms, torn to pieces by its own ecclesiastical
supporters, its liturgy denounced, and its sacra-
ments set at nought, I judged it a favourable
Opportunity, to warn the reverend combatants of
the mischief which hangs on their horizon; and
thus, I introduced the royal spectre to speak the —
truth, and nothing but the truth.

289

FAREWELL ADVICE TO THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF
ESSAYS ON NATURAL HISTORY. i

fs —_—>——_-- 2

Haste away, my little darling. Shouldst thou
accidentally fall in with the ‘‘ Wanderings,” and the
two other volumes of ‘‘ Essays, ’—thy elder brothers,
say, that I send my paternal thanks to them, for the
credit which they do me; because, I learn from
the instructive pages of Chambers, Sharpe, and
other literary gentlemen, that they are still in
favour with the public.

But, do not let this puff thee up. Thou must
bear in mind, that thou art but a puny, and an
ailing brat. ‘‘ Parve sunt vires, invalideeque tibi.”.

In passing through the dreary vale of criticism,
if thou art fortunate enough to catch the sun’s
beams, as thy brothers did, my soul will then
rejoice. But, on the other hand, if a blast over-
take thee,—be not disheartened. Violent squalls
are never Jong in action. The damage they may
do, will not affect thee much, nor cause me to regret
the time and labour JI have spent upon thy
education.

290

Remember, my little fellow, the old saying, that —
there are many men of many minds. ‘“ Facies non
omnibus una.” What is pleasing to one critic,
is not always approved of by another. We are
informed by Ovid, that, even the Immortal Gods
themselves, in ancient times, took up the warlike
club, and, that, whilst one party of them advanced
to the attack of a town, another party stood up
in its defence.

‘* Mulciber in Trojam, pro Troja stabat Apollo ;
(CHiqua Venus Teucris, Pallas iniqua fuit.”

Some writers march steadily along :—others
stumble in the road:-—whilst others fall down
flat on their faces, never to rise again.

Thy path, my boy, is rough and thorny :—be
careful of thy steps. ‘Cave ne titubes.” Farewell,
once more, and may I hear that thou art prosperous.

CHARLES WATERTON.

Watton HAtt,
JuLty, 1857.

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