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BERTHA’S
VISIT TO HER UNCLE
IN
ENGLAND.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
MDCCCXXX.
LONDON:
Printed by W. CLOWES,
Stamford-Street.
BERTHA’S VISIT.
_April 1st._--The little buds of pear blossoms, which I told you had
enlarged so much, have this day blown out completely. They are, I do
think, a curiosity. They have been now about two months in water, but
they had lain dry so long before, that one might have thought no life
remained in them. The horse-chesnut leaves, which first came out, begin
to droop; but on one of the twigs there is a nice young shoot, at least
two inches long, which looks bright and fresh.
The lilac buds, I am sorry to say, have withered; but some of the ash
leaves have opened out finely: three of them, however, were curiously
twisted, and filled up with a cottony substance, which on examination
was found to contain a little greenish insect. Mary thinks it is the
aphis fraxina. What a long time the eggs must have remained there, for I
do not think an aphis could have found out this branch in my room.
_2d, Sunday._--Deuteronomy, the title of the fifth book of the
Pentateuch, is derived, I find, from two Greek words, which signify the
second law, or rather the repetition of the law. Mishnah, the name the
Jews give it, has nearly the same meaning. “Moses, in this book,” said
my uncle, “not only recapitulates the laws he had already ordained, but
makes several explanatory additions, and enforces the whole by the most
earnest and impressive appeals to the gratitude, the hopes, and the
fears of the people. To them it is principally addressed, as most of
what particularly related to the priests is omitted; and as it was drawn
up in the last year of their abode in the wilderness, we may suppose
that it was intended as a compendium for the benefit of the new
generation, who had not been present at the first promulgation of the
law.
“It is remarkable that, in the preceding books, Moses speaks of himself
in the third person; but in Deuteronomy he drops the assumed character
of an historian, and addresses himself to the nation in the animated
language of a prophet, and with the authority of their chieftain and
lawgiver. He begins by reminding them of the many circumstances since
their departure from Horeb, in which they had experienced the Divine
favour; and then contrasts the success and the victories that had marked
their progress, with the disobedience and ingratitude that had provoked
the Divine wrath. He frequently alludes to his own guilty conduct, and
to the inexorable decree by which he was debarred from accompanying them
to that land of promise, for which he had so zealously toiled. He dwells
on every circumstance that could improve their hearts, and earnestly
enjoins the succeeding judges of Israel to do strict justice, and to
inculcate the principles of obedience and piety. He rehearses the
commandments which he had delivered to the people direct from God; and
exhorts them by every possible argument to fulfil the terms of that
covenant, which the Lord had made with them. While he affectionately
urges their future obedience, and severely reproaches their past
misconduct, he loses no opportunity of unfolding the glorious attributes
of Jehovah, and dwells on His mercy and compassion, and on His promised
blessings. He then enters into a new covenant with the people; which
includes that previously made at Horeb, and ratifies all the assurances
long before given to Abraham and his descendants.
“The historical part of Deuteronomy contains a period of only two
months; and concludes the life of Moses that truly great man and
faithful servant of the Most High. His parting words to the people whom
he had so long and so anxiously governed, were expressed in a hymn that
is pre-eminent for the beauty and strength of its composition. It
briefly but pathetically reiterates his warning exhortations, and ends
with a repetition of the particular blessings promised to each tribe.
His race being now run, we are told by the writer who finished this
book, that Moses retired to the top of Mount Nebo, from whence he was
permitted to behold the land which the Lord had declared the seed of
Abraham should inherit; and he there died in the 120th year of his age,
and in the year 2552 of the world.”
The coming of Messiah is more explicitly foretold in Deuteronomy, my
uncle says, than in any other book of the Pentateuch; and the prophecies
of that great event, as well as of many other circumstances in the
history of the Jews, have been so fully and minutely realized, that they
completely demonstrate the divine inspiration of Moses.
_3d._--Besides the rocks which compose our five grand formations, there
is another series, the _trap_ formation, or _overlying_ rocks; so
called, because they are found in various places lying on almost every
rock, from granite even to chalk. They sometimes traverse the other
rocks in _veins_ or _dykes_, and are sometimes found in immense
shapeless masses, but never regularly stratified. It is evident from
these facts, my uncle says, that their origin must be more recent than
those rocks on which they repose; yet they are quite free from all
organic remains--none, either animal or vegetable, having yet been found
in any rock of this class in England, nor, he believes, in any part of
the world.
These circumstances have given rise to much discussion as to the
original formation of these trap rocks, whether by fire or by water; but
that is a subject on which my uncle will not yet allow us to touch. Some
species of this family have the appearance of crystallization;
green-stone trap, for instance, has large distinct crystals of felspar;
in others, every trace of distinct crystals vanishes, and the whole
assumes a dull earthy appearance.
The famous basaltic rocks, of which there are such singular specimens in
Scotland and Ireland, belong to this family; but I shall be able to tell
you much more about them in a few months, my dear mamma, for my uncle
says it will be necessary for him to visit Ireland, and he proposes to
take us all with him to see the Giants’ Causeway. You will be surprised
at this; but pray do not be alarmed; I assure you there is no danger now
from the wild Irish. My uncle has been there already, and from what he
says, I think some parts of that country must be very interesting. I am
so full of the idea of our Irish travels that I can write no more
to-day.
_5th._--I have had another long walk to-day with Miss Perceval, and,
therefore, another charming conversation. The infinite variety in the
vegetable kingdom was our chief subject.
“Plants,” she said, “have not been thrown at random over the surface of
the globe; in every region, we find those which are best adapted to each
particular situation. Every climate, and every soil, has some
peculiarity which influences its plants; and every plant seems to be
subservient to some great and important object. From the brilliant
profusion of vegetation in some countries, down to the stunted lichen,
which just colours the rocks in others, every change points out the
beneficence of the Creator; and those who endeavour to comprehend this
beautiful order, and who trace these arrangements to the general system
of Providence, can alone enjoy the study of botany in its full extent.”
She then told me a great deal about this distribution of plants, and
mentioned many of the circumstances which appear either to fit them for
the different regions of the earth, or to render them useful in
supplying the local wants of the inhabitants. She began with the low
plants whose small, close-set leaves resist the intense cold of high
latitudes, or of stormy mountains; and tracing the gradual increase in
the size as well as in the number of native plants through all the
intermediate climates, she ended with the great stems, gigantic leaves,
and splendid flowers of the torrid zone.
“A similar change,” she added, “may be observed in those adjective races
of plants which depend upon others for support and protection. Instead
of the dwarf mosses and lichens which clothe the bark of trees in colder
countries, the luxuriant parasites between the tropics may be almost
said to animate their trunks. Delicate flowers spring from the roots of
the chocolate and calabash trees; and amidst the abundance of flowers
and fruits, and the confusion of parasites and climbing plants, the
traveller is at a loss to determine to what stem the leaves and blossoms
belong. Humboldt describes a species of _aristolochia_, whose flowers
are four feet in circumference; but Sir Stamford Raffles discovered a
flower belonging to a parasite plant in the island of Sumatra, that was
nearly ten feet in circumference. He brought home an exact model of it,
which is now in the apartments of the Horticultural Society, and which
your uncle told me he saw and measured when he was last in London. It
has five petals of a deep red colour, and of a very solid fleshy
substance, from a quarter of an inch in thickness at their outer lip to
almost an inch at their base; and he understood that when the flower was
first cut, it weighed fifteen pounds. The nectarium is so large and deep
that he thinks it would hold eight pints of water; and the whole
diameter of this giant flower he found three feet and two inches.”
I interrupted her to ask the name of this wonderful plant.
“It has been justly called, after its lamented discoverer, the
_Rafflesia_. A model was an excellent method of making us acquainted
with its appearance; for the northern nations can have but a faint idea
of the majestic forms of tropical vegetation from mere drawings and
descriptions; and still less can they judge of them from the sickly
plants in our stoves and greenhouses.”
This is just what I have myself thought a hundred times, mamma. I then
asked her about the _Cactus_ tribe, of which we have so many
singular-looking species in Brazil.
“It is, indeed,” she replied, “a most grotesque family; some with their
round backs and spines resembling a hedgehog, while others appear like
the pipes of an organ rising into long channelled columns. They are
almost entirely confined to the New World, one species only being a
native of the south of Europe. This is the _C. opuntia_, or prickly
pear, which bears on the edge of its leaf an agreeably flavoured fruit.
The _melo-cactus_ has been named by St. Pierre the Vegetable Spring of
the Desert: its shape is spherical, and though half concealed in the
sand of the parched plains in South America, the animals, who are always
tormented by thirst, discover it at a great distance, and
notwithstanding its formidable prickles, greedily suck the refreshing
juice with which it abounds.”
From the rich vegetation of America, we went to New Holland, and she
told me that though but little of the interior has been yet explored,
numbers of vegetables totally different from those of America, though in
the same degrees of latitude, have been found there. “They seem to have
quite a separate character; and those that are suited to the nourishment
of man, are as rare in that country as they are common in America. The
forests of New Holland, where the axe has never been heard, and where
vegetation extends itself without restraint, are described as having a
very singular appearance; the trees crumbling with age, and covered with
mosses and lichens.--Among their most beautiful productions are the
_mimosæ_, the superb _metrosideros_, and the whole tribe of
_eucalyptus_; many of which are from one hundred and sixty feet to one
hundred and eighty feet in height.”
I asked Miss Perceval whether South America or India had the greatest
number of plants. “India, I believe,” said she; “its inhabitants have
been so long in some degree civilized that, in addition to its native
vegetation, many plants must have been naturalized, and many varieties
produced by culture; and India exclusively boasts of the perfume of the
most precious spices.
“But there is another part of the world which we must not forget,”
continued Miss Perceval, “where nature seems to delight in multiplying
the species belonging to each genus. I allude to the Cape of Good Hope,
where the silvery lustre of the innumerable families of the _proteaceæ_
gives to the woods an appearance quite unlike those of either Europe or
America. The heaths are almost infinite in variety; the geraniums are
scarcely less so, and the gladiolus, the ixia, and the whole order of
_irideæ_, decorate the fields and thickets of the Cape, with an
exuberance unknown in any other country.
“To form a just view of vegetable nature, we must observe it in those
countries where the ground has not been turned by the hand of man. Few
such spots are now to be found in Europe, except on the summits of the
Alps and Pyrenees. There mountains piled on mountains, rising above the
clouds, form so many gardens, furnished with a vegetation of their own,
and the character of which changes with the temperature at each degree
of elevation. The same gradation takes place on all other lofty
mountains; and in Frazer’s account of the Himālā chain, which separates
Thibet from India, there is a long list of English plants that he found
there, at the altitude which corresponds with our temperate climate;
such as horse-chesnut, birch and apricot, strawberries, raspberries,
lily of the valley, and many others; and still higher up, he even saw
the famous Iceland lichen.”
_6th._--Yesterday Mr. Lumley and Mr. Maude dined here; and in conversing
about the new books which Mr. Maude has just brought from London, he
spoke very highly of Sir John Malcolm’s “Sketches of Persia.” He
mentioned several interesting anecdotes which he found there; and to
entertain Wentworth, he related some of the exploits of Roostem and his
wonderful horse Reksh; of which you shall have the following as a
specimen.
“All countries have their fabulous heroes, and Persia had her Hercules
in the renowned Roostem. He undertook the deliverance of his sovereign
who was a prisoner in Hyrcania, and set out alone on his good horse
Reksh. Fatigued by his first day’s journey, he lay down to sleep, having
turned his horse into a neighbouring meadow. There Reksh was attacked by
a furious lion: but after a short contest, he struck his antagonist to
the ground with a blow from his fore-hoof, and completed the victory by
seizing the lion’s throat with his teeth. When Roostem awoke, he was
more enraged than surprised that Reksh, unaided, should have risked such
an encounter. ‘Hadst thou been slain,’ said he, ‘how should I have
accomplished my enterprise?’”
This story produced a grand discussion--some doubted the power of the
horse to strike such a creature as a lion to the earth. Wentworth quoted
different books of travels to prove that horses always trembled with
instinctive dread at the sight of a lion; and even Mr. Maude, highly as
he estimated the courage of a horse, did not seem to think him capable
of such a noble effort. I thought to myself that it was perfectly suited
to the other fabulous adventures of Roostem.
My uncle waited to hear everybody’s opinion, and then said, “I will tell
you a singular circumstance which an old friend of mine witnessed, when
he was at the King of Sardinia’s court, at Turin, about forty years ago.
Perhaps it may convince some of my young sceptics, not of the truth of
Roostem’s exploits, but at least of the strength and spirit of horses.
The king had a remarkably fine charger, but so untameably vicious, that,
after having killed two grooms, he was ordered by his majesty to be
shot. It was suggested, however, that as he was to die, it would be a
good opportunity of putting to the test the bravery and vigour of a
horse whose spirits had not been subdued by being domesticated; and the
king readily consented that he should be turned loose into a
well-secured arena, along with a ferocious lion that belonged to the
royal menagerie. Arrangements were soon made; and both these animals
were allowed to enter at the same moment through opposite doors. They
approached a few steps--then stopped as if to take a survey of each
other--and again they advanced, but very slowly, till almost close.
There was now a pause for a moment, after which the lion stooped a
little as if meditating an upward spring, in order to fix his dreadful
claws in the neck of his adversary; but the horse seized the
opportunity, and making a slight but deliberate plunge with one leg in
advance, he struck the lion on the head, and with such fatal force as to
lay him dead at his feet.”
“The remarkable pause,” said Mr. Lumley, “which was made by those two
noble creatures is, I believe, the practice of all combative animals
when going to make their onset. I cannot give you better authority than
that of our highly valued friend, Major R., who you know was not less
remarkable in India for his scientific knowledge and military talent,
than for his intrepidity. In the course of service he had frequently
been sent with a detachment, to drive away from the wheat-fields and
jungles the tigers that often prowl about the camps or even enter the
villages; and he bears terrible marks to this day of the danger of such
an employment. He has lately told me, that more than once he has owed
his safety to that _moment_ of observation, when the animal seemed as if
collecting his force; for, as it always took place at a very short
distance, he seized that favourable pause, while his foe was stationary
and steady, to take a deliberate aim at a mortal spot.”
_7th._--In describing the changes that have been produced by the action
of the deluge, my uncle has often dwelt on the vast force of large
bodies of water, when moving with rapidity. He supposes that most of the
vallies have been scooped out by those means, and he divides them into
two classes: _longitudinal_ vallies, or those which lie parallel to the
chains of hills; and the _transverse_ vallies, which intersect the
chains. Caroline and I frequently talk over what he tells us, and we
agreed to ask him in our walk this morning, why the violence that tore
out the vallies did not disturb the hills at the same time.
“Those mighty currents,” he replied, “naturally made their first
impression on some weak part;--the fragments that were thus detached
assisted in excavating a channel as they rushed forward; and the more
the water was confined to a channel, the more powerful was its action.
But the hills have also been disturbed more or less; for the upper
strata appear to have been swept off from extensive ranges that they
once covered. This is proved by the separated hills, which geologists
call _outliers_; and which, having the lower strata exactly continuous
with those of the adjacent range of mountains, but wanting the superior
strata, shew that the same convulsion which broke through and carried
away the connecting parts, must also have torn off their summits.
Another proof is the great quantity of their _debris_, or broken
fragments, which are found scattered over parts of the country far
distant from their original positions. In the gravel beds near London, I
have found pieces of basalt, though that species of rock is not known to
exist within a hundred miles of the county of Middlesex.
“These fragments,” he continued, “must, therefore, have been transported
by some agent that was equal to tearing up and carrying away the parent
rock; and when it is considered that all gravel must have had its edges
and angles rounded by the rubbing of stone against stone, you will
perceive that this could only have been effected by the violent and
long-continued action of currents of water; in short, by the tremendous
surge and confused motion which accompanied a general deluge. That this
deluge has been comparatively recent is clear from the fact, that
fragments of primitive and secondary rocks are often found promiscuously
mixed in the same bed of gravel. In one large bed, near Lichfield, may
be found fragments of almost every rock in England, from chalk to
granite; and many of the pebbles contain organic remains.”
We spent a couple of hours wandering up and down some of the vallies in
the neighbourhood; and though a cultivated country is not the best
theatre for a geological lecture, my uncle contrived to shew us so many
corresponding circumstances on the opposite sides of one of the
transverse vallies, that it was quite evident to both of us that the
ridge had been formerly uninterrupted. We saw also many examples of the
gravel he had mentioned, all more or less rounded and smoothed, and
containing specimens of very different series. This was a delightful
walk; for though one may acquire very fine ideas at home of the
operations of nature, there is nothing like seeing them in their proper
places.
As we returned home, my uncle told us that this water-worn _debris_,
which covers many parts of the earth, is named _diluvium_, from that
great and universal catastrophe by which it appears to have been formed.
This name is meant to distinguish it from the more modern debris daily
produced by rivers and torrents, to which the name of _alluvium_ is
given.
“Diluvial gravel is highly interesting,” he said, “not only as it
assists in explaining the causes of the present state of the globe, but
as it even indicates the direction of the great currents of the deluge.
For instance--when, within a few miles of the neighbouring town of
Gloucester, we see rounded pebbles derived from rocks, which are found
only in the mountains of the north-west of the island, we may be sure
that a branch of that current must have rushed to the southward. It has,
therefore, been a favourite object of some geologists to trace these
travelled fragments to their native masses; and to discover the
apertures in the mountain barriers through which they had been swept.
“When the intervening country is nearly flat, there is no difficulty in
ascribing the removal of the debris to the currents of which we have
been speaking. But it is frequently found in situations that are
separated by deep vallies from the parent hills from which it appears to
have been torn. For instance, fragments of the primitive rocks that
compose the Alps are found scattered on the sides of the Jura mountains,
though, between those two ranges, the valley that contains the lake of
Geneva is interposed. On the low hills, near Bath, we find the flints
belonging to the chalk formation, though several deep vallies
intervene. Many other examples might be given; and the way in which
geologists obviate the difficulty is, by supposing that one set of
currents tore off and transported these fragments, and that a
_subsequent_ rush of the waters excavated the vallies.”
My uncle ended by saying, that when the weather was more settled he
would shew us a part of the country at no great distance from Fernhurst,
which would make us more clearly comprehend this interesting subject.
_8th._--The wonderful way in which the use of tobacco has spread into
every country of the world, in less than three centuries since its first
discovery in America, happened to be mentioned in conversation the day
Mr. Maude spent here; and we were all amused by his account of the mode
of smoking in Turkey. The sumptuous pipes in fashion there are so unlike
the little cigars in everybody’s mouth in Brazil, that perhaps his
description of them may entertain both you and Marianne.
The Turkish pipe, which is called a _chibouque_, consists of the tube,
the bowl, and the mouthpiece, so that they are all easily separated and
cleaned. The manufacturers of the tubes are seen at work every day in
the shops of Constantinople, where there is a bazaar, or street of
shops, entirely for their sale. They are made from the young straight
stems of cherry tree or jessamine, on which the bark is carefully
preserved; they are from two to six feet in length, and are nicely bored
with a wire auger. The nursing these stems during their growth is often
the support of a whole family, and requires a good deal of attention. To
prevent the bark from splitting in the heat of the day, each stem is
swathed with wet bandages, and the least tendency to become crooked is
counteracted, either by a judicious application of the bandage, or by
more copiously watering the plant on one side than on the other. A
perfectly straight stem, with a uniformly shining bark, is, however, a
great rarity, and sells for about two guineas.
The bowls are made of a clay called kefkil, found in Asia Minor, and in
Greece. In its native state, it is soft and white, but when baked, it
becomes hard; and, unlike the English pipeclay, turns to a black or red
colour. These bowls are made of all sizes; the Turks do not like them
very large; but those exported to Germany, where they are polished and
finished with great elegance, are as large as a man’s hand. Mr. Maude
says he was astonished by the piles of bowls in every shop of the
bazaar.
The bowls are frequently ornamented with gilding, and the tubes with
embroidery and jewels; but it is on the value of the mouthpiece that a
Turk prides himself. None but the miserably poor would use anything but
amber; and, though the common sort are cheap enough to suit all ranks,
Mr. M. has seen some which have cost a hundred pounds, not from their
size, but from some favourite tinge in their appearance.
“With such a pipe,” he says, “and with Saloniki tobacco, a Turk is
supremely happy. Cross-legged on his Persian carpet, he enjoys it the
whole day, and except to call for more tobacco, or for a cup of coffee,
he seldom opens his mouth, as the smoke is emitted from time to time in
long cloudy columns from his nose. Pipes take the lead in every visit,
and are preliminaries to every conversation. The most flattering
compliment a Turk can pay to his guest is to present him with his
chibouque warm from his lips; and I shall never forget the mixed look of
indignation and contempt which a Pasha of three tails threw at an
Englishman, who unwarily wiped the superb amber mouthpiece before he
introduced it between his own lips.”
_9th, Sunday._--“Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one Lord: and thou
shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul,
and with all thy might. And these words which I command thee this day
shall be in thine heart: and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy
children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and
when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down and when thou
risest up.”--Deut. vi.
After reading the whole chapter, my uncle called our attention to the
above verses, and said, “The characteristic excellence of the Mosaical
law consists in the inward principle on which obedience to it was
founded; in other words, on the love of God. This is fully unfolded in
the admirable commentary of Moses on the commandments, where we see that
the love that is expected from us must be accompanied with the full
vigour of our feelings; and that it must be daily excited by a constant
and grateful sense of the long-suffering and forbearance we have already
experienced; of the blessings we still enjoy; and of the promises held
out to us by a God of mercy, of goodness, and truth. This is the love
which should be the principle of all our motives, and the guide of all
our actions. This is the love which expands our hearts, not only into
grateful adoration towards the Author of our being, but into benevolence
towards our fellow-creatures. ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself;
I am the Lord.’ This emphatic conclusion shews that we are bound to do
so for the Lord’s sake; and throughout the Mosaical law you will find
that the love of God was made the basis of the love of our neighbour, as
well as of all our other duties. In the same manner our Saviour
declares that on these two commandments hang all the law and the
prophets; that is, the whole religion and morality of the Old Testament.
“It appears,” continued my uncle, “to be peculiar to the Jewish and
Christian dispensations to have solemnly laid down the principle of the
love of God, as a ground of human action: for though some wise and
excellent heathens had certain elevated ideas of the Deity, none seem to
have inculcated the love of the Deity as a governing motive of human
conduct. This Moses did most expressly; and Christ not only adopted and
ratified what the law had already declared, but singled it out and gave
it pre-eminence over the whole body of precepts which formed the old
institution.
“Let this noble principle then be pre-eminent in our minds; let us, who
enjoy so many social comforts at home, and who have been happily taught
to behold in our walks the beauties of this beneficent creation; let us,
who can lie down to repose in health and security, and who can rise up
refreshed to perform our duties; let us, my children, fill our hearts
with the love of God; and let it purify our thoughts, direct our words,
and govern our actions.”
_10th._--I find great amusement in watching the young birds that are now
coming out, and in observing the tender care with which their parents
feed them. There are several nests in the tall trees near my window; and
in a thick bush in my quarry garden, a favourite robin, who used to hop
on my hand and feed there all the winter, has four young ones: I have
named them after Mrs. Trimmer’s dear little red-breast family, which
every child loves.
Robins seem less afraid than most birds of the human haunts; and my aunt
says she has a friend, in whose bedchamber a pair actually built their
nests, and brought up their young till it was time to fly away. The lady
used to leave her window open all day; and often sat there to watch
their manœuvres and to listen to their sweet song. They seemed to be
aware of their comfortable quarters, and fiercely attacked any other
birds that intruded themselves.
She also mentioned a singular circumstance of a wren, a bird that is
never very familiar. A gentleman having occasion to repair some paling
that was attached to an old hollow yew tree, the workmen discovered a
nest in a small hole in the stem, with nine little unfledged birds. He
was fortunately on the spot, and had it placed on the window sill of his
study. The old wrens soon followed; and even when it was taken into the
room or held in the hand, they boldly did their duty to their offspring.
They repeated their visits for sixteen hours daily, coming every two or
three minutes with fresh supplies of food, which the little things
greedily devoured. When this was told, I well remembered having heard
grandpapa tell it of himself long, long ago.
This season, I suppose, must be remarkably forward, for we have had
quantities of primroses and other flowers already, though Warton says of
the first of April,
Scarce the hardy primrose peeps
From the dark dell’s entangled steeps.
I should tire you with the long list of leaves or flowers opening or
already burst out; but I have kept a very exact account of them in my
naturalist’s calendar; and when you come home, mamma, you shall see it,
and we shall be able to compare it with the advance of spring in some
other year. Spring is really delightful; the great change from winter is
so animating, and so full of interest to the gardener and farmer.
My hyacinth and jonquil beds are in great beauty; and, without vanity,
my garden looks so well, that not only my cousins but even my aunt and
uncle congratulate me on my industry and success.
Franklin is very busy now in every part of his farm; yet he pays
constant attention to the workmen who are building his house, which is
already far advanced: he says it is inconceivable how much waste he
prevents by keeping his eye on them. Little Charles is beginning to be
useful; his understanding is quick, and he already speaks plain English.
The Franklins keep him always with them, without seeming to watch him;
in hopes of breaking the habit of pilfering. His relations are not
inclined to take him, so that my aunt will have a full opportunity of
trying her benevolent experiment.
_11th._--Caroline and I had a long walk, and a long conversation to-day
with my uncle, about the _alluvial_ changes on the surface of the earth.
I wish I could tell you all he said; I can only give you a little sketch
of it.
“Since the last great and general convulsion produced by the deluge,
many gradual changes have occurred, and are every day occurring, from
causes which we may easily trace. We see destruction going on in one
place, and new formations in another; we find headlands and cliffs
undermined and washed away by the incessant action of the waves; and we
as often find the materials, thus carried off, thrown up again, and
forming either extensive tracts of new land along the less exposed parts
of the coast, or new banks and shoals in the adjoining sea. The action
of frost and snow, and rain, have all a similar tendency: ice, by
swelling in the rifts and crevices of the rocks, detaches small
portions; the rain washes away the finer parts; the melting snow, which
forms the winter torrent, carries down the larger fragments, and, dashed
against each other, their angles are rounded off. The looser materials
of the soil, through which these torrents pass, are still more easily
swept away; and in this manner, year after year, the surface of the
mountain is conveyed into the valley. As the torrent reaches the level
ground, its rapidity lessens, the larger fragments proceed no farther,
and only the earth and sand reach the river, where they subside to the
bottom, and form alluvial flats, and push out the _deltas_ which may be
seen at the mouths of almost every river. Some of the prodigious deltas
made by the great rivers of the continent, I think I mentioned to you in
one of our earliest conversations, as well as the great deposit of new
land on the coast of Italy.
“Fortunately, over a large part of the earth’s surface, these wasting
causes have no influence; the green sward which clothes it is an
effectual protection. The barrows of the ancient Britons, though above
two thousand years old, retain their original outline, and the fosse
surrounding them is still distinct. Even on the sides of mountains,
where the causes which I have described are always more or less in
operation, still there is a degree at which further waste will be
checked; the abrupt precipice may in time be broken down into a slope;
but vegetation will creep up, and that slope will then be defended by
its grassy coat.
“Even the mighty action of the sea has a similar tendency to impose a
limit to its own ravages; for it wastes its fury in vain on the barrier
of loose stones which it had beaten from the cliff that they now
protect.
“On some coasts, however, the agency of the sea does produce an
injurious change. Where the shore is low, and consists of a flat, sandy
bottom, the sand is thrown up by the surf; at every reflux of the tide,
it becomes partially dried; the winds blow it higher up, and thus ranges
of sand-hills are formed parallel to the beach. They encroach on the
land so rapidly, that districts, which a few years ago were inhabited,
are now become desert plains of sand. This takes place on a large scale,
in many parts of the world; even in Norfolk it has been found that the
only means of arresting the progress of the sand is to plant thick
hedges of furze. On the east coast of Scotland, much property was laid
waste by this destructive enemy, whose advance was occasioned about a
hundred years ago, by the imprudent removal of the trees and the
_bent_-grass which grew on the sand-hills. The effects were so alarming,
that an act of parliament was made in the reign of George II. to
prohibit the destruction of that useful plant, the sea bent-grass, which
Providence has kindly formed to grow in pure sand, and to keep it firm.
The Dutch may be said to owe their existence to it, as its spreading
matted root fixes the sand on those great dykes or embankments, which
alone preserve the country from the inundations of the sea. This grass
is called _murah_, in the Highlands; on the coast of Lincolnshire,
_signs_; in Norfolk, _matgrass_; and by Linnæus, _arundo arenaria_. It
has long, sharp-pointed leaves, and, fortunately, no cattle whatever
will taste it. The sea eryngo and the creeping restharrow, contribute
also to defend us against these almost irresistible sands.”
When we returned home, my uncle shewed me an extract of a letter from
the unfortunate traveller Bowdich; containing an interesting account of
a sandy plain in Madeira, about eighteen miles from Funchal. I must copy
a part of it for my dear mama.
“From Caniçal, by following a rough track, on the margin of shallow
cliffs of alternate tufa and basalt, for about a mile and a half, we
reached a depression, more like a basin than a plain, and covered with a
deep bed of sand. This sand has, in some degree, been fixed by the
numerous branches of the forest-trees which it has enveloped, and which
are spread over the surface as well as beneath it, like a net-work of
roots. Both the branches and the trunks are encased in a thick hard
sheath of agglutinated sand; and in some instances, the wood having
entirely perished, the envelopes are found empty, like tubes. Most
frequently, however, the wood is still found within, where it has
become a hard petrified mass.
“The trunks which remain in their natural position, have been broken off
about a foot above the surface of the sand: how far they reach beneath
it I cannot say, but there were two or three as thick as my body. They
all appear to belong to the same species of tree, though of what family
I do not think our present knowledge of the comparative anatomy of
timber is sufficiently advanced to determine.
“This deposit of sand extends about three-quarters of a mile in each
direction; and as innumerable fossil marine shells are mixed with it, as
well as imbedded in the envelopes, it must evidently have proceeded from
an irruption of the sea, although it is bounded by hills several hundred
feet high, on which there is no trace of sand.”
_12th._--My aunt was so kind as to take Mary and me with her this
morning, to pay a visit to Mrs. B., who has always many pretty
curiosities to shew. Her cousin, who is captain of an East Indiaman, has
a constant commission to bring her any thing that is interesting.
Fortunately for us, he arrived a few weeks since, and has lately sent
her a collection of Chinese drawings of flowers and insects, which are
most beautifully coloured. They are, however, amusingly defective in
regard to proportion; for some of the flowers are much diminished, while
the insects upon them are represented of their natural size.
He brought her, also, a few stuffed birds; one of which, the adjutant
bird, is such a prodigious creature, that I scarcely looked at the
others. It measures, from the crown of the head to the foot, five feet
two inches; from tip to tip of the wings, fourteen feet; and the other
dimensions are proportionably great. Its general colour is black, or
slate blue, though a few of the small feathers round the neck, and on
part of the body, are white.
It is called the hurgill, in Bengal. They say that when alive it
majestically stalks along, and looks like an Indian; and when seen near
the mouths of rivers with extended wings, might be taken for a canoe.
There is a curious superstition among the Indians, that the souls of the
Brahmins possess these birds. They are very ravenous, and have a most
capacious stomach, as well as a large craw, which hangs down the fore
part of the neck like a pouch. The captain told Mrs. B., that in the
pouch of one which was killed, a land tortoise ten inches long was
found, and in the stomach, a cat; even a leg of mutton, or a litter of
young kittens, are easily swallowed. He heard of one that had been
caught when young: he was easily tamed, and being always fed in the
hall, he became so familiar, that at dinner time he stood behind his
master’s chair; but the servants were obliged to watch him, as sometimes
he would snatch a whole fowl off the table. He used to roost among the
high trees, from whence, even at two miles distance, he could spy dinner
carrying across the yard, when, darting home, he regularly walked in
with the last dish. As he stood near the dinner table, he appeared as if
listening to the conversation, turning his head alternately to whoever
spoke.
The most curious thing about this species is the pouch. Dr. Adam, of
Calcutta, supposes that it helps to sustain the birds in their great
flights in the air, and also assists them in the waters in searching
after their prey. From the structure of their limbs they cannot swim;
and it appears that they have the power of distending this bag with air
when they go beyond their depth. He says, that in the month of October,
when the sky is not obscured by a single cloud, it is a beautiful
spectacle to observe hundreds of these birds performing their graceful
evolutions at a vast height above the earth; with a telescope, however,
he could not perceive whether the bag was distended.
This huge bird occupied so much of our visit, that I scarcely recollect
any thing else that I saw.
_13th._--My aunt has been reading to us several interesting particulars
of the Hottentots, from Latrobe’s Journal of his visit to South Africa.
There is a striking difference, he remarks, in the conduct of the
uncivilized, and of the Christian Hottentots. All those who have been
converted by the Moravian missionaries, have learned some useful trade,
and, when they like their employment, work very industriously. They are
naturally kind-hearted and obliging; and Christianity has had such a
happy effect on them, that they live at the settlement of Gnadenthal
united as brethren amongst themselves, and very grateful to their
teachers.
The Hottentots have fine voices; they are fond of music, and are easily
taught to sing. “One morning,” Latrobe says, “at four o’clock, I was
awakened by the sweet sound of Hottentot voices singing a hymn in the
hall before my chamber door. They had learned from some of the
missionaries, that it was my birth-day, and I was struck and affected by
this mark of their regard; nor was their mode of expressing it confined
to a morning song. They had dressed out my chair at the common table,
with branches of oak and laurel; and even the school-children, in order
not to be behind in these kind offices, having begged of their mistress
to mark on a large white muslin handkerchief some English words
expressive of their good will towards me, they managed to embroider them
with a species of creeper called cat’s thorn, and fastened the muslin
in front of a table, covered with a white cloth and decorated with
festoons of field flowers. This table, on which stood five large
bouquets, I found in my room, on returning from my walk. The whole
arrangement did credit to their taste. The words were, ‘May success
crown every action.’”
_14th._--I asked my uncle yesterday, whether a considerable change has
not been produced in the level of the ocean, by the vast quantity of
materials, which he had told us were carried into it by the rivers, and
washed away from the coast by the waves.
He replied, that it was a very natural question, and shewed that we
reflected on what we had learned. “But,” said he, “though the quantity
of materials which has for ages been accumulating in the sea must be
vast, yet when compared with the capacity of the whole ocean, its
disparity is so obvious, that it probably can have had no visible effect
in elevating the general level of the water. I say the general level,
because it is possible, that in the mouths of large rivers, and in
narrow seas, it may have had some effect in raising the level of the
flood tide; for the actual volume of water rolled in from the sea
continues the same as it was formerly, but the space over which it has
to diffuse itself being less deep and less broad, it must, therefore,
force itself to a higher level. Other causes, however, may lead to the
permanent rise of the sea in certain places; for instance, it is
possible that the current which unceasingly rushes into the
Mediterranean, may in the course of centuries have gradually widened the
entrance; and consequently a greater quantity of water now pours in.
This, combined with the deposits from the Rhone, the Po, the Nile, and
other rivers, may, perhaps, account for the well known fact of the
eastern end of that sea being now higher than it was formerly; many
foundations of houses and other vestiges of buildings being visible
there several feet under water.
“But none of these causes will account for the extensive submarine
forests which have been discovered on several parts of the English
coast, for example, in Lancashire, and in the Bristol Channel, near
Bridgewater. In excavating the West India docks, in the Isle of Dogs,
near London, a complete stratum of decayed hazel trees was found: the
wood and bark were quite soft and decayed, but the nuts were in
tolerable preservation. Your aunt, I believe, has some specimens of
them, which she will readily shew you. The remains of the submarine
forests of Lincolnshire were examined not very long ago, by a gentleman
who has published a paper on the subject in the Philosophical
Transactions, and if Caroline will fetch the volume for 1799, she and
you may read his account.”
I shall make a few extracts from it here for Marianne’s benefit.
This gentleman, having learned that there were several sunken islets
along the coast where the remains of trees could be seen, took the
opportunity of a very low tide, to land on one of them, near the village
of Sutton; and he found that it was a mass of roots, trunks, branches,
and leaves of trees, intermixed with aquatic plants. An immense number
of the stumps were still standing on their roots, which, as well as the
bark of the branches, appeared almost as fresh as if they had been just
cut; and in the bark of the birch, even the thin silvery membranes of
the outer skin were discernible. The wood, on the contrary, was
decomposed and soft: but he understood that the people of the country
had often found very sound pieces of birch and oak of which they could
make use. He remarked, that the trunks and thick branches were
flattened, as if they had lain under the pressure of a heavy weight;
which is observable also in the _surturbrand_ or fossil wood of Iceland,
and of the Feroe Islands. Above the matted branches, he found a thick
bed of decayed leaves, which were scarcely distinguishable at first; but
after soaking a little in water, the leaves of holly and of other
indigenous trees were easily separated.
In a well that was digging in the neighbouring village of Sutton, a
similar stratum of decayed wood and leaves had been cut through at the
depth of sixteen feet, and, therefore, very nearly at the same level
with that of the islets: it extends through all the eastern parts of
Lincolnshire, and has been traced as far as Peterborough, more than
fifty miles to the south-west of Sutton. The fisherman informed him that
islets of the same kind are found as far north as Grimsby, on the
Humber; so that this great subterraneous forest was nearly eighty miles
in length; and as there can be little doubt of the woody islets along
the coast having been a continuation of it, the breadth must also have
been considerable.