see some of its wildest parts; and the morning was so fine, that we went
much farther than my cousins had been for a long time. There is but
little of it that answered to my ideas of a forest; some parts are quite
cleared away, and in others, the trees are spoiled by being copsed. I
must confess, that some of the oaks are fine trees; but how
insignificant the best of them would appear by the side of our noble
_bombax_, or of our tall palms, which spread their leaves like immense
umbrellas. And besides, the green of the foliage is so dull, when
compared to the vivid tints of the trees in Brazil! We found, however,
some very nice and smooth grassy paths through the wood, of which I
might say--
All around seems verdure meet
For pressure of the fairies’ feet.
As we walked along one of these, we were surprised by the appearance of
smoke curling through the trees; and we soon after came to a little
cottage, in a very solitary part of the forest. Frederick ran on, “to
discover,” he said, “whether it contained a giant, ready to devour us
with _fee, fau, fum_, or some hermit who had retired to this sequestered
spot, to expiate his crimes in solitude and silence.”
We soon followed, and instead of either giant or hermit, there was a
poor man almost blind, employed in making a basket, while his daughter,
a pretty looking young woman about twenty, sat within, engaged in
needlework; and the house, though one of the poorest that I have seen,
looked clean and airy. But as it is built against a sloping bank, it
must be damp, I think--and his daughter has rather a delicate
appearance, and looks pensive, as if she was not in good health.
I was very much interested in observing the method by which he made his
basket. It was not made of willow, which I thought was always used; so
we inquired what the material was, and I was surprised to find that it
was oak. He splits the wood into long strips when it is quite fresh, or
after it has been soaking in water for some time; these strips are about
an inch broad, and being only a tenth of an inch thick, they are so
pliable, that he weaves them without difficulty. The shape of his
basket was circular, with a flat bottom. A sort of skeleton frame is
made first, of stronger slips of wood; then the long thin pieces are
woven in and out, close together; and the ends are neatly fastened under
each other. It seemed a tedious work; he is to have half a crown for the
basket he is now making, for a washerwoman; and as it is more than two
days’ employment, his gain is but very small.
He lost his sight many years ago in the mines, and though never idle, he
cannot easily support himself. I believe his wife is dead. He says he
has lived in that place several years; and I understand that the
inhabitants of the Forest of Deane have certain privileges in regard to
taxes, that make it a very desirable residence to a poor man.
My uncle is to go in a few days to bespeak some of those baskets, and I
hope to walk there with him: it will have been very happy for this poor
man that we found him; for my uncle and aunt will certainly be of use to
him. They assist the industrious very much; and all they do for the
poor, is done in such a kind and cheerful manner, that it doubles the
favour.
_24th._--This morning brought another letter from Hertford--it has been
delayed on its road, for it was written several weeks ago. Here are some
extracts from it: perhaps they may entertain you, as he describes his
visit to the little island of North Rona.
“It is accessible in one spot only, and that with difficulty. The
landing place is on an irregular cliff, and you must watch for the
moment to jump out on the first ledge of rock to which the boat is
lifted by the waves. It is a perilous operation to remove sheep from
this island; the animal being slung by the legs round the neck of a man,
and thus carried down the face of a rock, where a false step exposes him
to the risk of being either strangled or drowned.
“The violence and height of the waves, which in winter break over the
island, are almost incredible. The dykes of the sheep-folds are often
thrown down; and stones of enormous bulk are removed from their places,
at elevations of 200 feet above the high-water mark. It is inhabited by
one family only, who cultivate it, and tend about fifty sheep. Twice in
the year that part of the crop which is not consumed on the farm,
together with the sheep’s wool, and the feathers obtained from the
sea-fowl, which these poor people are bound to procure, are taken away
by the boat to Lewis, and thus some little intercourse with the external
world is preserved. But they are so little accustomed to the appearance
of any one but the proprietor of the island, that when we appeared, the
women and children were seen running away to the cliffs to hide
themselves, loaded with whatever moveable property they possessed, while
the man and his son began to drive away the sheep. A few words of Gaëlic
recalled the men, but it was sometime before the females ventured from
their retreat, and when they did, the impression they made on us was not
very favourable to the progress of civilization in Rona; the mistress of
the family would have ill stood a comparison with Iliglaik, whose
accomplishments are so well described by Captain Lyon.
“Not even the solid Highland hut can withstand the violence of the wind
in this region. The dwelling is, therefore, excavated in the earth, the
wall requisite for the support of the roof scarcely rising two feet
above the surface, and the whole is surrounded with turf stacks to ward
off the gales. The entrance to this subterranean retreat is through a
long winding passage, like the gallery of a mine, commencing by an
aperture not three feet high, and very difficult to find. Were it not
for the smoke, the existence of a house could never be suspected;
indeed, we had been talking to its possessor for some time, before we
discovered that we were actually standing on the top of his castle. Like
a Kamtschatkan hut, it receives no other light than that from the smoke
hole; it is floored with ashes, and festooned and ornamented with
strings of dried fish. Its inmates, however, appeared to be contented
and well fed, and little concerned about what the rest of the world was
doing; they seemed to know of no other world than North Rona, and the
chief seemed to wish for little that North Rona could not supply. The
great object of his wishes was to get his two younger children baptised,
for no people are more zealous in the observance of their religious
duties than the Highlanders; and even in that dreary solitude, this poor
man had not forgotten his.”
I am quite established now as one of the dressing-room party. A nice
little table has been allotted to my use, and I shall be very
comfortable as well as happy.
In the library, I was frequently interrupted in drawing or reading, by
morning visiters--but into this charming retired room no visiters are
admitted, and we shall seldom be disturbed. My aunt has given me just
such a nice little table as each of my cousins has: the top serves as a
desk for reading, or writing, or drawing, and can be raised to any
slope, as it is joined by hinges at one side; while on the other side
there is a light frame, which supports the book or drawing I am copying;
and which, when not wanted, folds in under the top. It has places for
pens, ink, and knife, and two drawers, besides many other conveniences.
Indeed, I must be happy in this room, where a variety of useful and
agreeable things, and much gaiety too, are always to be found.
I wish, Mamma, you could know your nieces. There is a nice mixture of
gaiety and steadiness in both. Mary would be almost perfect, if she were
not too timid. Caroline is the handsomest; she has such a fresh, bright
complexion, and such pretty waving ringlets; yet she never seems to
think of herself or her beauty. She is very active and very useful;
always punctual, and ever ready to oblige and assist others, to walk out
or stay at home with them--to search for a book, or to hunt out a
passage in it--to converse or to remain silent. Yet she contrives to
have time for all her own employments, and to lay up stores of
knowledge, which are always ready when called for. Her temper is so
mild, and her feelings are so much under her own controul, that one does
not at first see exactly how much she enters into those of other people;
but every day, her character has opened more and more to my observation.
Grace is a dear, little, animated creature--very obedient in general,
very intelligent, and my uncle’s play-fellow, but never spoiled. What a
pity you cannot see all these children of a brother you love so much. My
aunt often expresses her anxiety for your return; she says, that if my
uncle and she had their dear sister within reach of them, their family
happiness would be complete.
I told you before, I believe, that my uncle, and my aunt too, though she
does not say much, are not pleased, if we are not punctual--and must I
confess it?--yes, I must acknowledge, that several mornings I have been
rather late for breakfast; my uncle has been very patient however, and
says he will make allowance a little while for the indolent habits I
have acquired by living in a warm climate, and with “too indulgent a
mother.”
So good night; I have been writing when I ought to have been in bed.
_25th._--There was a good deal of conversation about salt and salt mines
to-day. My uncle asked me, if there were many such salt marshes in
Brazil as abound in North America, and of which cattle are so fond. I
forgot at first, and said very foolishly, that I could not tell--I was
in a silly fit, till at last I recollected myself, and told him I had
heard that there were some, though they are obliged to import a great
deal of salt. What an extraordinary appearance a salt plain must have,
where the salt is open and uncovered! When we went up stairs, Mary
showed me Mr. Salt’s description of one in Abyssinia.
He says, that some of his party and Mr. Coffin “stopped at the edge of
an extensive salt plain to refresh themselves, under the shade of a
group of acacias, near some wells of fresh water. At this place they
were provided by the natives with a sort of sandal, for walking on the
salt, made of the leaves of a dwarf palm.
“The plain lies perfectly flat, and is said to be four days’ journey in
length. The first half mile was very slippery, and the feet sank at
every step into the mud. After this, the surface became strongly
crusted, resembling, in appearance, a rough coat of ice, covered with
snow.
“On the _Assa Durwa_ side of the plain, a number of Abyssinians were
engaged in cutting out the salt, which they accomplished by means of a
small adze. The salt lies in horizontal strata, so that when the edges
are once divided, it separates without any great difficulty: that which
is immediately under the surface is exceedingly hard, white, and pure;
but as the workmen advance deeper, it becomes of a coarser quality, and
much softer. In some places it continues tolerably pure to the depth of
three feet, below which it becomes mixed with the soil, and consequently
unfit for use.
“This salt plain, from which the whole of Abyssinia is supplied, is
infested by a cruel race, who make it a practice to lie in wait for the
individuals engaged in cutting it. These poor fellows, in the absence of
their guards, lie down flat on the surface, when working, that they may
escape the observation of their barbarous enemies, and on the approach
of a stranger, they run in alarm to the mountains.”
When we had finished reading this extract, Mary said, that since I was
so much amused by it, she would find a description of some curious salt
cliffs on the banks of the Indus.
“Near Callabaugh, on the banks of the Indus, the road is cut out of the
solid salt, at the foot of salt cliffs, which in some places are more
than 100 feet high above the river. The salt is hard, clear, and almost
pure; and would be like crystal, were it not a little streaked and
tinged with red. Several salt springs issue from the rocks, and leave
the ground covered with a crust of the most brilliant whiteness. The
earth is blood red, and this, with the beautiful spectacle of the salt
rocks, and the Indus flowing in a deep and clear stream, through lofty
mountains, presented a most singular scene.”
I have copied these for Mamma, for I am sure you have neither of the
books.
_26th._--I have been out till very late this lovely evening, which was
so calm, and still, and fragrant, that it made me think of some of our
own evenings; and the brightness of the stars, and the clear blue sky,
increased the resemblance. While walking, I described to Mary and
Caroline the country-house of the Condé de San Lourenço, on the slope
of the hills which extend from the city towards the south-west; and the
fine view, from that spot, of the city and part of the bay. I
endeavoured to make them understand the beauty of our evenings, after
the sultry day, when the _mimosas_, that have folded up their leaves to
sleep, stand motionless beside the dark _manga_, _jaca_, and other
trees; or if a little breeze arises, how it makes the stiff, dry leaves
of the _acaju_[2] rustle, and the myrtles drop a fragrant shower of
blossoms; while the majestic palms slowly wave their crowns over all.
My cousins appeared so much interested, that I endeavoured to complete
my picture of a Brazilian evening. I described to them the shrill cries
of the cicada, and the monotonous hum of the tree frog. The singular
sound of the little animal called the _macue_, which almost resembles a
distant human voice calling for help. The plaintive cries too of the
sloth; and the various noises of the _capuira_, the goat-sucker, and the
bullfrog; along with the incessant chattering of the monkey tribe; while
myriads of fire-flies, like moving stars, complete, as you used to say,
the beauty of our evenings. I did not forget to mention those palms,
whose flowers suddenly burst out in the evening, and join their
fragrance to that of the orange groves. Indeed, all these things were so
strongly pictured in my mind, that I could almost have thought myself
walking amongst them.
Caroline, in her ardent manner, expressed a wish to visit this
interesting scene; but quiet Mary repeated a few stanzas of a poem
supposed to be written by a European in South America. Two of them are
worth sending you.
In the silence and grandeur of midnight I tread,
Where savannahs in boundless magnificence spread;
And, bearing sublimely their snow-wreaths on high,
The far Cordilleras unite with the sky.
The fern-tree waves o’er me--the fire-fly’s red light
With its quick glancing splendour illumines the night;
And I read, in each tint of the skies and the earth,
How distant my steps from the land of my birth.
_27th._--I do not wonder at the attachment you feel, Mamma, to this
place: it is, indeed, very pretty. These wooded banks, and green lawns
and fields that slope towards the Severn, and form such a lovely view
from some of the windows! But there is no view so pretty to my fancy, as
that from the little bedchamber which my aunt has been so kind as to
allot to me. I have a glimpse of the river and its woody banks; and very
near my window there is a group of laburnums, and an old fir-tree, in
which there are numbers of little birds, that I amuse myself in
watching. I am very fond of sitting in the projecting bow window, also,
at the end of the library: I call it the poetical window, for all that
you see from it suits the feelings that descriptive poetry excites.
By the way, I must say that I can read THOMSON’S _Seasons_ now, and
other descriptive poetry, with much more pleasure than I could before I
came to England, because so much of the scenery described was unknown to
me, and so many of the rural occupations I had scarcely seen.
I shall now remember, much better than I used to do, some of your
favourite descriptions, that I have learned over and over again. My aunt
says, that it has been remarked, by a philosopher who has written a most
interesting book on the human mind, that in descriptive poetry we always
remember best those scenes which we can picture to ourselves. I am sure
this is the case; for now, as I begin to understand the allusions, it
requires but little effort to recollect those beautiful lines of Thomson
on harvest-home.
When I came here, several of the fields were still unreaped: all is now
cut, dried, drawn home, and stacked; and the fields only show, by the
yellow stubble remaining in the ground, what treasures gilded the earth
but a short time since.
All the farmers in this neighbourhood have finished their harvest; and
my uncle took me again to Farmer Moreland’s, that I might see the whole
of the process. The stacks, I see, are placed on stands, supported by
stone pillars, with a projecting cap of flag-stone, so that the corn has
a free passage of air underneath, and is out of the reach of rats.
Farmer Moreland is one of the most comfortable farmers in this part of
the country; and, being an old, experienced man, and very much
respected, he seems to be considered at the head of the yeomanry.
Every year, when his great harvest is well secured in his farmyard, he
gives a feast to all his labourers and the neighbouring farmers; and,
when he saw that we were so much interested, he very civilly said to my
uncle, “If so be the young ladies would like it, and if you have no
objection to a little mirth or so, they shall be heartily welcome to see
my harvest home, on Saturday, at three o’clock.”
We were all delighted to go, and have had a lovely day for it. We walked
through the little beech-grove and the pretty fields to the farmer’s; we
found all his labourers and their families assembled, dressed in their
Sunday clothes. The farmers’ wives and daughters amused me by the
varieties in their dress;--some in fine flourishing caps, with broad
ribbons and borders, and flounces in imitation of the Squire’s lady; and
others, plain, clean, and tidy.
There was a very plentiful dinner, set on tables under a clump of trees;
and the good farmer seemed to feel real delight in making his
hard-working labourers eat heartily. Two fiddlers were playing all the
time, to enliven them; and the ale and cider were abundantly circulated.
When the repast was finished, the more active sports began; and nothing
could be prettier than the different groups of dancers, or more
laughable than the attempts to jump through a ring, and hop in a sack.
Under the trees, most of the older people sat comfortably, talking;
though some, excited by the general joy, took part in the dance, and
others presided at a wrestling match. Each of those men who had been
more particularly engaged in getting in the harvest, had his hat
ornamented with a large bunch of wheat; but the leader, or captain of
the sports, was actually crowned with a whole sheaf. He was carried
round the tables on the shoulders of his comrades, and the sports began
by dancing round him in a general ring; at last he gave the signal, when
they suddenly separated, and each fixed on his favourite damsel.
Dame Moreland gave us some nice syllabub; and, highly gratified with
the whole scene, we left her and her happy guests, in the midst of their
merriment.
My uncle met there an old acquaintance, whom he had not seen or heard of
for several years. When he knew him, this gentleman was in the
fashionable world, but now he seems completely a farmer. He is much
altered: my uncle did not recollect him; but he had so much the look and
language of a gentleman, that my uncle’s attention was attracted. His
manner, to the inferior society he was with, was mild and good humoured,
without any appearance of proud condescension, or of too great
familiarity. My uncle spoke of him two or three times on our way home,
as if he was surprised at finding him in his present situation.
_28th._ _Sunday._--My uncle was speaking, this morning, of the general
character of the Christian religion, as being so directly contrary to
fanaticism and imposture. This is particularly marked, he says, by the
manner in which it explains the obligations that arise from the
different relations of civil society. He remarked, that “the chief
object of every religious system, founded on imposture, has been to use
its spiritual influence in acquiring political authority, and to
consecrate the legislator by investing him with the sanctity of the
priest or the prophet. But Christianity, in this respect, in its
original simplicity, stands totally free from all suspicion. The kingdom
of our Saviour and his apostles was, literally, ‘not of this world;’ and
in no instance whatever did they claim or exercise any degree of
political power, or encroach, in the least, on the authority of the
magistrate. Christianity released none from their duties, public or
domestic;--they were still to be discharged by all persons, and not only
with equal fidelity, but with more exalted views; no longer ‘as pleasers
of men, but as servants of God.’
“It seems almost surprising,” said my aunt, “that enthusiasm, or rather
bigotry, should ever have crept in amongst the professors of a religion
that is so mild and so moderate in all its doctrines.”
“Every line of the gospel,” said my uncle, “expresses the same calm and
merciful spirit, with which our Saviour checked the intemperate zeal of
his disciples, who would have called fire from heaven on the Samaritans,
for refusing to receive him. And take notice, that his heavenly wisdom
not only prohibits every species of persecution, but reprobates all
those overbearing feelings which leads to discord of every kind. How
strongly do St. Paul’s precepts enforce this forbearing principle! In
the language of a heart overflowing with benignity, he says, ‘Why dost
thou judge thy brother; for we shall all stand at the judgment-seat of
God. We that are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak.
Wherefore, receive ye one another as Christ also received us.’”
I am very careful, dear Mamma, to write down as much as I possibly can
of our Sunday morning conversations, because I know they will interest
you particularly; and it is very pleasant to me to trace in these
opinions of my uncle and aunt the very same sentiments which you have so
often impressed on your little Bertha.
_Aug. 29._--My uncle went to-day to bespeak some baskets from the blind
man whom I mentioned before, and who I found out has a sick old wife,
who cannot get out of bed. We all begged of course to accompany him. We
found the old man sitting on a little bench at his door, talking
earnestly to his daughter. She looked disturbed, and when we spoke to
her, I observed that her colour rose and fell rapidly; my uncle asked if
she was ill, or if we came at an inconvenient time?
“No, no, sir,” said the old man. “Bessy, my dear, go in and stay awhile
with the old wife, perhaps she may want you.”
My uncle again said, “that he feared he interrupted them.”