tigers approached at the opposite side, and we observed that they drank
one after the other, though there was sufficient space for both. Another
half hour elapsed before any thing more made its appearance, but the
noise increased on all sides, and made us rather uneasy. At last we
heard the deep low of approaching buffaloes, and three soon made their
appearance. After having drank for a long time, they waded into the deep
part and lay down, so that nothing could be seen but their noses; and no
one, who had not seen them go in, could have suspected that such huge
animals were concealed there. In a short time a fourth buffalo arrived,
and after snuffing round him for some moments, he began to drink. Though
the others put their heads out of the water, they did not interfere with
him while drinking, but when he appeared inclined to advance farther
into the water, one of them instantly attacked him with a hideous roar,
and as the moon shone very brightly, I could see distinctly the whole of
their furious battle. At every charge they retired some steps backwards,
making the sand fly in clouds, and then, with dreadful snortings and at
full speed, again rushed upon each other. At last the intruding buffalo
received such a tremendous blow, that he fled; and the conqueror,
disdaining to pursue him, merely bellowed twice, with a clear and
terrific sound, that re-echoed on every side, when he quietly returned
his companions.
“The pleasure I had felt in beholding this furious combat, was soon
changed into alarm, by the unexpected report of a gun! The three
buffaloes started suddenly from the water--for a few moments they stood
together snorting with rage, and then two of them rushed off in the
direction of the flash, while the third came out near me, as if to
search the bushes on all sides. I endeavoured to get out of my bush
before the monster could approach; but unfortunately I became entangled
in the thorns, and it was impossible to extricate myself in time. By a
violent effort, however, I tore myself loose, leaving most of my clothes
behind, and instantly began to run--but the furious beast was now
close--I almost felt his breath, and looking round saw him not six paces
distant, when throwing myself flat on the ground, he passed over me and
continued at full speed! I again crept into the thicket, and in a few
minutes I heard the voices of my companions, who were in search of me,
armed with flaming pieces of wood. I had felt much incensed against them
for firing--but I found that they had not been to blame, a branch had
struck the lock of one of their guns, which went off, and they had been
exposed to as much danger as myself.”
_20th._--“And he hardened Pharaoh’s heart, that he hearkened not unto
them, as the Lord had said.”[6] My uncle told us to-day that this
passage should be expressed thus:--“And the heart of Pharaoh _was
hardened_, so that he hearkened not unto them; as the Lord had
_foretold_.” It is so rendered, he says, in the ancient versions; and
the most judicious modern commentators agree that this is the proper
meaning.
“Indeed,” said my uncle, “in allowing it to be inferred that the Lord
had purposely hardened Pharaoh’s heart, the translators of the Bible
have acted inconsistently with their own view of the phrase in several
other places.[7] This is very striking in the following chapter, where
it is said ‘Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also,’ which plainly
implies that his resistance after the former plagues had proceeded from
his own perverse and stubborn disposition. I have likewise been assured
by some very learned men, that according to the Hebrew idiom, verbs
active often signify _permission_; and in these verses it is much more
consonant to our ideas of divine justice so to understand the
expression: that is, that God permitted Pharaoh to proceed in his own
proud and wicked career, insensible to the threatened judgments, which
he had already despised.
“But even supposing that the verb is to be taken in the active sense, it
is a remarkable fact, that the event was constantly suspended in order
that Pharaoh might have it in his power to relent and to ‘set his
heart,’ that is, to humble and change it, and become obedient to the
word of the Lord; for after five plagues had already been wrought upon
him, and that he still persisted, even then his punishment was withheld;
in order to let him repent, if he would. Besides which, the delay
afforded a far more conspicuous testimony of God’s patience, and gave
greater dignity to his wrath.
“Pharaoh’s final obduracy therefore was not caused by God’s will, but
was the effect of his own previous obstinacy;--that he hardened his
heart was his sin;--that the Lord permitted him to harden it, was his
punishment.”
My uncle said also that a Hebrew scholar told him that the word which is
translated by the verb to _harden_ in the above text is, in other parts
of the Bible, translated, to _grieve_ or to _trouble_; and that, in his
opinion, the construction of the sentence requires one of those words.
“In several parts of the English Bible,” continued my uncle, “_shall_ is
put in the place of _will_. For instance, in Exodus ix. 4. ‘And the Lord
shall sever between the cattle,’ where the sense evidently requires
_will_; and thus, ch. vii. 4, and xi. 9, ‘Pharaoh shall not hearken unto
you,’ should undoubtedly be rendered ‘Pharaoh _will_ not hearken unto
you.’ This agrees exactly with the principle I have already mentioned,
that verbs active sometimes signify permission.”
My uncle mentioned several other instances of this confusion between
_shall_, which seems to ordain, and _will_, which only foretels. And he
added, “There are several of these minor faults and mistakes in our
translation, which make it very important that we should never judge of
detached passages, but that we should compare different parts of the
Bible together, in order that they may throw light upon each other.”
_21st._--I forgot to tell you in the right part of my journal, that in
preparing my carnation beds, the gardener observed a great number of
those wire-worms, which are so destructive to all the pink tribe. I
recollected that Mr. Biggs said that salt destroyed them, but that it
was difficult to apply just the right proportion; that is, enough to
kill the worms, but not enough to render the ground sterile--which a
great quantity of salt certainly does. In talking of this to my uncle,
it occurred to him that the stuff called salt dross, which is often
thrown away, would be a mild form of applying salt; and he was so kind
and indulgent, that he procured, not without much trouble and
difficulty, a boat-load; it is of an odd purplish brown colour, and
retains many saline particles.
To each of my intended carnation beds, which are about six feet long and
two feet broad, we put a wheelbarrow full of this stuff, which the
gardener dug in, and thoroughly mixed with the earth. The beds were then
thrown up in high ridges, to remain so for the winter, during which the
salt will, my uncle thinks, destroy these mischievous worms, as well as
the snail eggs.
If this succeeds, it will be a very satisfactory experiment, but many
months must pass before we can ascertain its success.
This was done a few days before my uncle went to town.
_22nd._--I have had another walk with my uncle to-day, in the
beech-walk, of which he has made me so fond. I took that opportunity of
asking him why some trees lose their leaves in winter, and others
preserve them; for the fall of the leaf has been a subject of great
curiosity to me, and I felt quite sure that he could explain the cause
clearly. But he told me that it has never been satisfactorily accounted
for, and that there is some objection to every opinion yet published. He
says it would be a very good pursuit for my cousins and myself, to begin
a course of observations on the nature of leaves and leaf-buds, and
their connexion with the stem; and he has offered a prize, as he says
they do in the learned societies, to whichever amongst us takes the best
view of the subject.
I asked, was it not caused by frost? “It is not always the effect of
autumnal frost,” he replied. “Some trees seem to lose their leaves at
stated times, independently of the temperature. They fall from the lime,
for instance, before any frost happens; and indeed all deciduous leaves,
as the season advances, become gradually more rigid, less juicy, lose
their down, and at last change their healthy green colour to a yellow or
reddish hue.”
He then asked me if I had observed anything of the order in which the
different trees cast them. I answered that the walnut and horse-chesnut
appeared to have lost their leaves before any other: then the sycamore
and lime, and I believed the ash had soon followed; but that many of the
elm, and most of the beech and oak trees were still well covered,
though they had changed colour.
“Yes,” said he, “but the leaves of the young beech, though they have
become brown and dry, will not fall till spring; and the fibres of the
oak are so tough, that the leaf does not easily separate from the
branch. You may also perceive that the apple and peach trees remain
green, very often till the beginning of December. Some botanists
attribute the defoliation of trees to the drying up of the vessels which
connect the leaf with the stem; and others to the swelling of the young
buds for the succeeding year. This, they say, deprives the old leaf of
its accustomed supply of sap, and as they enlarge, they push it out of
their way; but there is a material objection to this theory, that the
leafits of _pinnated_ leaves fall in the same manner, though there are
no buds to push them off.
“It is also supposed that the vessels of the petiole gradually become
woody, and incapable of freely transmitting the sap; it therefore
stagnates, the vessels become overloaded, and the parts which connect
the stem and the leaf crack at the insertion of the petiole. The vessels
being thus interrupted, the leaf is no longer supplied with proper
nourishment; it loses its elasticity, and becomes dry and brittle; and
the least shock, whether the effect of frost or of wind, detaches it.
“Another opinion,” added my uncle, “is, that the fibres of the
leaf-stalk are not a simple continuation of those of the twig or branch,
but that they both terminate at that point from which the leaf falls;
being only connected by a kind of adhesive substance, which dries up
when the sap ceases to rise. This point of separation you may easily
perceive,” said he, “like a cicatrice, in the form of a ring; and the
same appearance of a natural separation is to be seen in the peduncles
of flowers, which seem also to be attached by a sort of vegetable solder
to the stem.”
“But, uncle, why then do not leaves fall much sooner, if they are so
slightly attached to the stem?”
“Because this adhesive substance is a strong cement, as long as it is
supplied by the vegetable juices. If you attempt to remove the stalk
elsewhere than at that point where it is united, the fibres are
lacerated; and this proves that the separation had been prepared for at
that one point, by some peculiar organization which acts independently
of frost or rain, or other external causes.”
My uncle then shewed me the ring which marks the point of separation. It
is most easily seen in autumn, he says; it is double in the orange, and
in the berberry he shewed me that it is above the point of contact
between the leaf and branch, so that after the fall of the leaf, the
rudiment of the foot-stalk remains to preserve the bud. He took the
trouble of pointing out a little triangle of thorns behind the young
bud, which seems to be another beautiful contrivance of nature for its
protection in that bush. We then observed this point of separation in
other trees whose leaves were not at all gone, and he told me that it is
very strongly marked in the horse-chesnut with five small dots.
I begged my uncle to tell me what I should particularly pay attention to
in the course of our observations.
He said that as it has never yet been ascertained whether the leaves
spring from the wood or from the bark, he would advise us not merely to
observe the progress of the buds, but to take every means of tracing
their connection with the interior. We may examine with his microscope
all sorts of twigs, to see whether the vessels of the central part of
the wood extend to the leaf-stalk; and he suggests that we should very
carefully observe the difference of structure in evergreen leaves, and
in those which perish in the autumn. He recommends us to lose no further
time in beginning our task on the few remaining leaves, in order that we
may see in spring whether evergreens shed their leaves in the same
manner; and we are also to ascertain when their buds are actually
formed. “Above all,” he says, “I advise you to take nothing for
granted--examine every thing with your own eyes, and learn facts.”
I shall like this employment very much, and Mary, Frederick, and myself
have agreed to work in concert. Both my uncle and aunt encourage us;
they say it will afford a large field for very entertaining experiments,
and they think that inquiries of this sort are highly useful to young
people.
_23d._--The fields which were ploughed and sown with wheat not above two
months ago, are now of a beautiful green; how hardy it must be, to
withstand the severe weather, which I am told may soon be expected! My
uncle says, that wheat grows in every variety of climate, except in
regions of extreme cold.
It has not been ascertained of what country wheat was a native, and it
is certainly a very remarkable fact, that, though cultivated so
generally, no wild plants of those species that are used in agriculture
have been found, though one of our late travellers imagined that he
found it in the mountains of Thibet.
The ploughs are still at work preparing the ground for oats to be sown
in spring; or they are laying it up in fallows. The potatoes have all
been dug long ago, and safely packed in houses, to preserve them from
the frost, which spoils them. My uncle says, that, though potatoes are
more used than formerly, they are not such a general article of food as
in Ireland. The custom there is to store them in pits covered with a
high mound of clay, which by excluding the air delays the progress of
vegetation in the root, until the time of replanting returns.
“It is quite astonishing,” my aunt remarked last night, “how the
cultivation of potatoes has spread since they were first discovered in
South America, and imported by the Spaniards, who called them _papas_.
Sir Walter Raleigh found them afterwards in Virginia; he introduced them
into this country in 1596, and there is now scarcely a civilized spot on
the earth to which we have not distributed them. Even to Persia, this
valuable root has been conveyed by the benevolent exertions of our
envoy, Sir John Malcolm; and at Abusheher the grateful inhabitants call
it Malcolm’s plum.”
I have been very busy this morning clearing away all dead stalks and
leaves in my garden, and completing the borders, which I have edged with
thrift; and all my seed-beds have been lightly covered to preserve them
from the expected frost.
The gardener is going to try two new methods of raising pine-apples; for
my uncle always likes to ascertain truth by experiment. A great pit is
to be filled with withered leaves, which in decaying undergo a
fermentation that produces sufficient heat to answer the purpose; and
in this pit the pots of pine plants are to be plunged. The second method
is to place the pine-pots on a brick stand, in a moderate heat, and
without being plunged in either tan or leaves. He is a most valuable
gardener, and finds time for many nice little experiments without ever
neglecting his regular work. All his carrot, parsnip, and beet roots are
taken up and preserved in dry sand; he is now sowing celery under glass
frames for an early crop for next year; and Mary says they have had
celery every day since July, in Continual succession, as he constantly
earthed it up, adding still to the height of the earthing in order to
increase its size and whiteness. His peas and beans he sowed three weeks
ago in the warm border in front of the south fruit-wall. He is now going
to protect them from frost by branches of fir-trees, and he hopes to
have some ready for the table by the second week in May.
What a contrast there is between the labour and attention necessary here
for all these vegetable productions, and the luxuriance with which they
spring up in Brazil! But there is a pleasure I am sure in successful
industry, that is scarcely understood by the indolent inhabitants of
those warm and fertile climates.
_25th._--Yesterday being a bright lovely day, my uncle and aunt took
advantage of it to go to Newnham to see the poor travellers, of whom we
had heard nothing for some time.
Beyond all our hopes they found Bertram considerably better. My aunt had
requested her own physician to attend him, and he is now so much
recovered, that if the weather continue mild he is to set out to-morrow
on his way home. The old gentleman arrived last week; and though great
agitation was caused at first by their meeting, yet it seemed to have a
favorable effect on Bertram, as the anxiety and fear of never seeing his
poor old father again had preyed on his mind.
Madeleine’s spirits are a little improved; she allows herself once more
to hope, but she is prepared to submit with true Christian resignation
to whatever happens. She is relieved too from all anxiety in regard to
her new father; he received her as a daughter, and expresses the
greatest tenderness for her and her pretty little child; who has learned
to say “dear grandpapa” among the few English words she has picked up.
When my aunt went in, she found him just going to read prayers to his
son; she begged of him to go on, and she says nothing could be more
touching than the scene--the weak but solemn voice of the pious old man;
the calmness and devotion in the countenance of the son, and the gleam
of hope that shone over Madeleine’s subdued and sad countenance.
_26th._--Now that winter has really begun, we make a circle round the
fire after dinner; and we are so comfortable and happy there that I am
often sorry when the time comes for leaving the room.
We have various amusements; on some days we each invent little tales
which are to turn on some circumstance that is first agreed upon; at
other times we have some of those question plays in which you discover,
by a particular set of questions, the thoughts of another person. One of
our favourite occupations is doing arithmetical questions in our heads.
We have often used a multiplier of three or four figures, which I assure
you makes it hard work. My uncle and aunt now and then join in this; and
being of course very ambitious to outdo them, we all get into a sort of
fever of exertion which makes it very diverting, and the conqueror very
triumphant.--Then we compare the different methods which we took, and
each person finds out what caused their mistakes. I am afraid I am
oftener behind in the race than most of the party, for beside their
being much better arithmeticians than me, I am so afraid of being wrong,
that I do not speak out in time even when I have my answer ready and
right.
I must tell you one of the questions we had this evening; it was
proposed by Caroline. In one of the vignettes to Bewick’s birds, there
is a man preparing to fasten himself to a team of birds which are to
convey him to the moon; the team is wedge-shaped, and the birds are
harnessed together in rows, each of which increases by one, from the
single bird that acts as leader. Now, supposing that the man weighs ten
stone, and that each bird can raise five pounds, how many rows of birds
are necessary for his flight?
_27th_, _Sunday._--My uncle again took up the judgments inflicted on the
Egyptians. He said that if they were considered with reference to that
particular nation, it appeared that there was a peculiar meaning in some
of those calamities, which would not have applied so well to any other
people. He told us that they paid an idolatrous reverence to many of the
inferior animals, and worshipped, as superior gods, the ox, the cow, and
the ram. Among these, the Apis and Mnevis are well known; the former, a
sacred bull adored at Memphis, and the latter at Heliopolis. There were
also a cow and heifer, which had similar honours, at Momemphis.--These
judgments were therefore very significant in their execution and object;
as the Egyptians not only saw their cattle perish, but, what was still
more dreadful, they saw their deities sink before the “God of the
Hebrews.” This satisfactorily explains what is said in Numbers: “Upon
their gods also the Lord executed judgments[8]”; and these events had
doubtless a useful influence, though not a lasting one, on the minds of
the Israelites, to whom the gods of the Egyptians must at that time have
appeared very contemptible.
“I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail:” this judgment, he told
us, was also particularly adapted to the Egyptians. The rain and hail
that were foretold must have appeared of all things most incredible to
the Egyptians; for in Egypt little or no rain ever falls, the want of it
being supplied by dews and by the overflowing of the Nile; and when they
witnessed this storm of hail, “such as had not been in Egypt since the
foundation thereof,” and accompanied by “mighty thunderings,” and fire
that ran along the ground, what dread and amazement they must have felt!
Pharaoh had received warning of these terrific prodigies, which the
deities of Egypt could not avert; and even the fire and water, which had
been held sacred by the Egyptians, were now employed they found as
passive instruments of their punishment. Besides the formation of the
hail, which was so uncommon in that country, its falling so miraculously
on the day, and in the district foretold, must have overwhelmingly
convinced them of the impotence of the creatures which they worshipped,
and of the boundless power of the Almighty.
I asked my uncle at what season these plagues had happened, and why the
injury to flax and barley were particularly mentioned.
“The season,” said he, “is not expressly stated; but as the departure of
the Israelites was on the 15th of the month of Abib, which corresponds
with the beginning of April, we may suppose that the seventh plague (of
hail) was sent about the beginning of March, so as to leave time for the
three succeeding plagues. This idea is confirmed by travellers, from
whom we learn that the barley harvest in Egypt is reaped in March, and
the wheat in April; and it explains why ‘the barley was in ear,’ though
not yet fit for reaping; and ‘the wheat and the rye were not grown up.’
Abib means the month of the young ears of corn.
“Their barley must have been a grievous loss, as the principal beverage
of the Egyptians was made from it; but scarcely any thing could have
distressed them more than the loss of their flax, because the whole
nation wore linen garments, and the priests never put on any other kind
of clothing. This linen was manufactured from that fine flax for which
the valley of the Nile was famous, and was in great request in other
countries also; for though the Egyptians did not trade abroad
themselves, yet they readily disposed of it to foreign merchants.”
_28th._--A question of mine this morning, though it exposed my
ignorance, gave me an opportunity of perceiving how much light is thrown
by general knowledge on the difficult parts of Scripture history; and,
indeed, on all other history. I had asked how it was that the locusts,
independently of their coming at the appointed moment, could have been
called one of the miraculous plagues, as they were so common in Egypt. I
saw my cousins looking a little surprised, but they are so good-natured
that they never laugh at my mistakes.
My uncle explained to me that I was wrong in supposing that locusts were
common in Egypt. “They are very abundant,” he said, “in the neighbouring
regions of Arabia, which has been proverbially called their cradle, but
the Red Sea appears to be an effectual barrier against their molesting
the Egyptians. They seldom succeed in crossing any great extent of
water; for though they frequently migrate into very distant countries,
yet their habit of often alighting on the ground is fatal to them in
traversing the sea.
“There is another circumstance that saves Egypt from the visits of these
dreadful insects; when they take wing they are obliged to follow the
course of the wind, and in that country, you know, the winds blow six
months from the _north_, and six months from the _south_; but, at the
time spoken of, an east wind prevailed ‘all day and all night;’ and the
whole face of the country in the morning was covered with the locusts.
This strong easterly wind, which enabled them to cross the Red Sea, was
plainly preternatural; and we are told distinctly that ‘before them
there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.’