The military college at Addiscombe, for the education of the cadets of

the East India Company's army, would naturally be to the Khan an object

of peculiar interest; and thither he accordingly repaired, in company

with several of his friends, apparently members of the Indian direction,

on the occasion of the examination of the students by Colonel

Pasley.[13] "After partaking of a sumptuous luncheon, we went to the

students' room, where they were examined in various branches of the

military science, as mathematics, fortification, drawing, &c., besides

various languages, one of which was the Oordoo."[14] After the close of

the examination, and the distribution of prizes to the successful

candidates,[15] the company repaired to the grounds, where the Khan was

astonished by the quickness and precision with which the cadets took to

pieces and reconstructed the pontoons, and went through other operations

of military engineering; and still more by a subaqueous explosion of

powder by the means of the voltaic battery--"a method by which Colonel

Pasley was engaged near Portsmouth in raising a vessel which had sunk

there." It would be hardly fair to surmise the probable tendency of the

Khan's secret thoughts on thus witnessing the care bestowed on the

training of those destined hereafter to maintain the Feringhi yoke on

his native country; but he expressed himself highly gratified by all

that he saw; and we find him, shortly after, in attendance at a

spectacle more calculated than any thing he had yet witnessed, to

impress him with an adequate idea of British power--the launch of a

first-rate man-of-war at Woolwich.[16] "The sight was extremely

exhilarating, from the fineness of the day, and the immense crowds of

people, of all ages and both sexes, generally well dressed, who were

congregated on the land and the water, expecting the arrival of the

Queen. Her majesty appeared at one o'clock, and proceeded to the front

of the great ship, where a place, covered with red cloth, was prepared

for her; I had a seat quite close, and saw it all very well.... The

ceremony of _christening_ a ship is taken from that of christening a

child, which, as practised in the Nazarene churches, consists in

throwing water in its face, and saying a prayer; but here a bottle of

wine hung before her majesty, and opposite to it a piece of iron,

against which she pushed the bottle and broke it, and the wine was

sprinkled over the ship, which then received its name.... In a short

time the slips were drawn, and she glided nobly into the stream of the

Thames amidst the shouts of the spectators, and anchored at a short

distance. I went on board this immense floating castle, but observed

that she was not ready for sea, and I was told that she would require

some time to be rigged, provisioned, &c. Our party then returned to

Greenwich; and after my friends had dined, with whom I partook of a

delicate little fish now in season, (whitebait,) drove back to town."

The Khan had no leisure, on this occasion, to inspect the wonders of the

_top-khana_, or arsenal; but he paid a second visit for the purpose a

few days later, duly armed with an order from the Master-General of the

Ordnance, which is indispensable for the admission of a foreigner. His

sensations, on entering this vast repository of arms, were not unlike

those attributed to a personage whose fictitious adventures, though the

production of a _Feringhi_ pen, present one of the most faithful

pictures extant of the genuine feelings of an oriental on Frank

matters:--"When we came to the guns," says the eximious Hajji Baba, "by

my beard, existence fled from our heads! We saw cannons of all sizes and

denominations, enough to have paved the way, if placed side by side,

from Tehran to Tabriz--if placed lengthways, Allah only knows where they

would have reached--into the very grave of the father of all the

Russians, perhaps!" "The cannon distributed over the whole place," says

the graver narrative of the Khan, "are said to amount to 40,000! all

ready for use in the army, navy, or fortresses; and, as if these were

not sufficient for the destruction of the human race, other pieces are

constantly casting by a process the reverse of that in India, where the

guns are cast in moulds--whereas here a solid cylinder is cast, and

afterwards bored, shaped, and finished by steam power.... There are,

moreover, a considerable number taken from enemies in battle, two of

which, taken from Tippoo Sultan at Seringapatam, have their muzzles in

the form of a lion's mouth, and are very well cast and elaborately

ornamented; having their date, with the weight of powder and ball they

carry, expressed in Persian characters about the mouth. There are also

three from Bhurtpore, and three others from Aden, the inscriptions on

which denote that they were cast by order of the Turkish emperor,

_Mahmood_[17] Ibn Soliman." After leaving the arsenal, the Khan

proceeded to the dockyard, of which he merely enumerates the various

departments; but the proving of the anchors and chain-cables by means of

the hydraulic press, impressed him, as it must do every one who has

witnessed that astonishing process, with the idea of almost illimitable

power. "On the ground lay a huge anchor which had been broken a few days

before in the presence of Prince Albert, and when I was there four men

were trying the strength of a chain by turning a wheel, the force

produced by which was more than sufficient to break it; for just as I

arrived it began to give way, when they desisted. The force here

produced by means of this single wheel must have been equal to that of

some 200,000 elephants, which might perhaps have pulled till doomsday

without effecting it. Such is the wonderful effect of this agent

(steam,) the results of which I meet with in so many different places,

and under so many different circumstances!" After visiting the

convict-hulk, and seeing the anchor-founderies in operation, the Khan

crossed to Blackwall, and returned to town by the railway, his first

conveyance when he landed in England. His increased experience in

steam-travelling had now, however, enabled him to detect the difference

between the mode of propulsion by engines on the other railroads, and

the "immense cables made of iron wires" by which the vehicles are drawn

on this line; the construction of which, as well as the

electro-telegraph, ("a process for which we have no phrase in

Oordoo,") by which communication is effected between the two ends of

the line, he soon after paid another visit to inspect. "This railway is

carried partly over houses and partly under ground; and as the price of

the ground was unusually high, I was told that it cost, though only

three miles and a half in length, the enormous sum of a crore of rupees,

(L.1,000,000!")

With this notice of the Blackwall railway, the personal narrative of the

Khan's residence in England is brought to an abrupt conclusion; leaving

us in the dark as to the time and circumstances of his return to his

native land, which we believe took place soon after this period. The

remainder of his work is in the nature of an appendix, consisting

chiefly of dissertations on the manners, institutions, &c., of Great

Britain, as compared with those of Hindustan. He likewise gives an

elaborate retrospect of English history, from the Britons downwards;

excepting, however, the four centuries from the death of William the

Conqueror to the accession of Henry VIII.--an interval which he perhaps

considers to have been sufficiently filled up by his disquisitions on

the struggles for power between the crown and the barons, and the

consequent origin and final constitution of parliament, related in a

previous part of his work. His object in undertaking this compilation

was, as he informs us, "for the benefit of those in Hindustan, who are

to this day entirely ignorant of English history, and indifferent as to

acquiring any knowledge whatever of a people whose sway has been

extended over so many millions of human beings, and whose influence is

felt in the remotest corners of the globe." The manner in which the Khan

has performed his self-imposed task, is highly creditable to his

industry and discrimination, and strongly contrasts, in the accuracy of

the facts and plain sense of the narration, with the wild extravagances

in which Asiatic historiographers are apt to indulge; the Anglo-Saxon

part of the history, on which especial pains appears to have been

bestowed, is particularly complete and well written--unless (as, indeed,

we are almost inclined to suspect) it be a translation _in toto_ from

some popular historical treatise. The Khan's acquired knowledge of

English history, indeed, is sometimes more accurate than his

acquaintance with the annals of his own country; as when, in comparing

Queen Elizabeth with the famous Queen of Delhi, Raziah Begum, he speaks

of the latter princess as "daughter of Behlol Khan, the Pathan Emperor

of Delhi;" whereas a reference to Ferishta, or any other native

historian, will inform us that Raziah died A.D. 1239, more than 200

years before the accession of Behlol Lodi. No such errors as this,

either in fact or chronology, disfigure the Khan's sketch of English

history; but as it would scarcely present so much novelty to English

readers as it may possibly do to the Hindustani friends of the author

for whom it is intended, we shall give but a few brief notices of it.

His favourite hero, in the account of the Saxon period, is of course

Alfred, and he devotes to the events of his reign more than half the

space occupied by the history of the dynasty;[18] thus summing up his

character:--"To describe all the excellent qualities, intellectual and

moral, attributed to this prince by English historians, would be to

condense in a single individual the highest perfections of which the

human species is capable. Qualities contradictory in their natures, and

which are possessed only by men of different characters, and scarcely

ever by one man, seem to have been united in this monarch; he was

humane, prudent, and peaceful, yet brave, just, and impartial; affable,

and capable of giving and receiving counsel. In short, he was a man

especially endowed by the Deity with virtue and intelligence to benefit

the human race!"

The story of Edwy and Elgiva, and the barbarities which the beautiful

queen suffered at the hands of Dunstan, are related with fitting

abhorrence by the Khan, who seems to entertain, on all occasions, a

special aversion to the ascendancy of the Romish priesthood. The loves

of Edgar and Elfrida, and the punishment of the faithless courtier who

deceived his sovereign by a false report of the attractions of the lady,

are also duly commemorated; as well as the fall of the Saxon kingdom

before the conquering swords of the Danes, during the reign of Ethelred

the Unready, the son of the false and cruel Elfrida. But the intrusive

monarch Canute "was looked upon, in those times of ignorance, as a very

extraordinary man, and supposed to be the greatest king of the world,

the sovereign of the seas and the land." The well-known story of his

pretending to command the waves, as related by the Khan, differs

considerably from the usually received version, and perhaps may be

better adapted to the notions prevalent in the East, where success by

stratagem is always considered preferable to a manly avowal of

incompetency. "One day he was seated on the sea-shore, when the waves

reached his chair. Canute commanded them to retire; and as the tide

happened to be actually ebbing at the time, the waters retreated to the

ocean. Then turning to his courtiers, he exclaimed, that the king whose

mandates were obeyed by the billows of the sea, as well as by the

children of men, was truly the monarch of the earth. Ever after this he

was regarded by the ignorant multitude with a sort of religious awe, and

was called Canute _the Great_, as we should say _Sahib-i-kiran_,"

(the Lord of the Conjunction, implying a man born under a peculiar

conjunction of planetary influences which predestines him to

distinguished fortunes.)

But of all the English monarchs whose reigns are noticed by the Khan,

the one who appears to stand highest, as a pious and patriotic king, in

his estimation--a distinction which he not improbably owes to his zeal

as an iconoclast, the use of images in worship being abhorred by the

Moslems--is no other than Henry VIII. No hint of the "gospel light that

beamed from Boleyn's eyes," or of the doom which overtook more than one

of his consorts, is allowed to interfere with the lustre of his

achievements; such allusions, indeed, would probably be regarded by the

Khan as unwarrantable violations of the privacy of the zenana. But in

order to set in a stronger light the difficulties which he had to

encounter, we have a circumstantial account of the rise of the Papal

power, and the exorbitant prerogatives assumed for some centuries

previously, by the Pope. "This personage was the monarch of Christendom,

something analogous to our holy khalifs, who were the heads of Islam and

the Mohammedan world; and from him the princes of Christendom received

investiture, as did our Mohammedan sovereigns from the khalifs of

Bagdad. The ecclesiastics every where gave out that the pontiff was the

vicegerent of God, and that every one who died without his blessing and

forgiveness would suffer endless torments hereafter. Moreover, if the

king of any country did aught contravening the Pope's pleasure, his

people were excommunicated, and anathemas published against them to the

whole of Europe. Thus were the nations led by the nose like a string of

camels." He then proceeds to state how Henry, by holding forth to his

nobles the prospect of participation in the rich possessions of the

church, induced them to join him in the enterprize of destroying the

papal ascendency. "He then commanded the name of the Pope to be expunged

from the _khotbah_, and his own to be substituted as head of the church;

while the _idols_ and pictures were removed from the churches, and not

allowed to be again used in worship; and the confiscated property was

divided into three parts, one of which he reserved for himself, the

second he gave to the nobles who had assisted him, and distributed the

third among the clergy of the new or reformed religion.

"The Pope's wrath was kindled at these proceedings, and he

excommunicated the king, who trampled the edict under his feet. The Pope

then wrote to the princes of Christendom, exhorting them all to

undertake a _holy war_ against Henry, who was not only a heretic, but an

infidel; adding, that if they did not, fire would be rained on them from

heaven as a punishment for their neglect. Some of the Christian

monarchs, as the King of Spain, declared war accordingly against Henry,

and sent ships to the coast of England; but all their attempts failed;

and the King of Denmark and other potentates, perceiving that the

Pope's threats were not accomplished, and that no fire fell from heaven,

followed Henry's example in expelling the Pope's clergy from their

dominions, and adopted measures of reform similar to his. From this time

the Pope's power began to decline in all the countries of Europe, so

that at the present day his name is read in the _khotbah_ only in the

city of Rome and the small territory which is yet left him in its

neighbourhood; and the old practice of excommunication seems to have

entirely ceased; while the reformed religion introduced by Henry, and

which is so different from the ancient faith, has existed in England

ever since, a period of above three hundred years."

We need not pursue further our extracts from the Khan's speculations on

English history, of which the passages already given afford a sufficient

specimen; but we may notice that he mentions James I. as the first

English monarch who sent an ambassador (Sir Thomas Roe) to the court of

Delhi, and refers to the history of Ferishta for an account of his

reception by the Emperor Jehanghir. He next proceeds to describe the

climate, productions, and statistics of the country, its division into

_zillahs_ or counties, the law of primogeniture as regards succession to

landed property, &c.; and enters into minute details on the laws

regulating the succession to the throne, the responsibility of

ministers, the election of the members of the House of Commons, and the

mutual dependence of the three branches of the legislature; but his

remarks on these subjects, though creditable from their general

accuracy, possess little originality; and may be left without comment

for the edification of his friends in Hindustan, for whose benefit it is

to be presumed they were intended. The doctrine of the responsibility of

ministers, (which the Khan in a former part of his narrative, as we had

occasion to remark, seemed either to have been unacquainted with, or to

have lost sight of,) is here stated with a full appreciation of its

practical bearings; and is pronounced to be "the best law which the

English ever made for the government of the people, by imposing a check

on the absolute will of the sovereign; resembling the similar restraint

on the power of our monarchs which prevails in Islam, though with us the

check is still more powerful and effectual, as the judge is empowered by

the Koran to demand satisfaction from the sovereign himself!" The

details of the British finances are briefly touched upon, with a special

denunciation of "that most extraordinary tax laid on the light of the

sun when it comes through a window:"--but the Khan contents himself with

stating the amount of the national debt, and the interest annually paid

to the public creditors, without offering any scheme for its extinction,

like that of his countryman Mirza Abu-Taleb, who with perfect gravity

and good faith proposes that the fundholders should be summoned before

Parliament, and informed by the minister, that since the pressure of the

taxes necessary to meet the interest must inevitably, erelong, produce a

revolution, in which the whole debt would be cancelled, it would be far

better for them at once to relinquish with a good grace great part of

their claim, and accept payment of the balance by instalments. Of the

feasibility, as well as equity of this plan, the Mirza does not appear

to entertain the smallest doubt:--"and thus," he triumphantly concludes,

"in twenty or thirty years, the whole of the debt would be liquidated;

some of the most oppressive taxes might be immediately abolished, and

others gradually relinquished; provisions would become cheaper, and the

people be rendered happy, and grateful to the government."

"When in Hindustan," says the Khan, "I had heard, like millions of

others, of something in connexion with the Feringhi rulers, called

_Company_; but no one knew whether this was a man, or a medicine, or a

weapon, or a horse, or a ship, or any thing else. The most prevalent

notion was, that it was an old woman; but as the oldest among us, and

their fathers before them, had always heard it spoken of in exactly the

same terms, they were further puzzled to account for her preternatural

longevity." A well-directed course of enquiry in England, speedily

enabled the Khan to unravel the mystery; and he has enlightened his

countrymen with full details on the composition of the venerable Begum,

with the Court of Directors, the Board of Control, &c.; but in the

prosecution of these researches, he was surprised by finding that

_Company_ was so far from being one and indivisible, that _Companies_

"exist by thousands for multifarious objects--many even for speculation

in human life. The most recent is the Victoria, composed of twelve

directors, and other officers. A man puts a value on his life, and on

this sum they put a per centage, varying according to his age and state

of health, which he pays, and when he dies his heirs receive the money.

People of the middle classes generally resort to this method of

providing, by small annual contributions, for the support of their

families after their decease--and consequently the man's own relations

often rejoice when he dies, while strangers (the Insurance Company)

grieve."

On the important subject of the domestic usages and manners of the

English, the Khan enters less at length than might have been expected.

Of country life, indeed, from which alone correct ideas on such subjects

can be derived, he saw absolutely nothing, his knowledge of the country

being apparently limited to the prospect from the windows of a railway

carriage; and his acquaintance with London manners was drawn more from

ballrooms and crowded soirees, than from the private circles of family

reunions. With these limited opportunities of observation, his remarks

on the mass of the people are necessarily confined, in a great measure,

to their outdoor habits; in which nothing appears to have surprised him

more than the small number of horsemen (as he considers) to be seen in

the streets of London; "the generality of these, too, are extremely bad

riders, though this, perhaps, may be owing to the uncouth and awkward

saddles they use:" a libel on our national character for horsemanship,

into which we must charitably hope that the Cockney cavaliers who crowd

the Regent's Park on Sundays, are responsible for having misled him. The

important point of the comparative deference paid to women, and the

amount of liberty and privileges enjoyed by them, in the social systems

of Mohammedan and Christian countries respectively, is taken up by the

Khan in behalf of the former, with as much warmth as in past years by

his compatriot Mirza Abu-Taleb,[19] and in much the same line of

argument--to the effect that the dowery which the eastern husband is

bound by law to pay over in money to his wife in the event of a

separation, is a far more effectual protection to the wife from the

fickleness and caprice of her partner, ("whose _interest_ it thus

becomes, setting affection wholly out of the question, to remain on good

terms with her,") than any remedy afforded by the laws of England; where

a wife, though bound by ties less easily dissolved than under the

Mohammedan system of divorces, may still be driven, without misconduct

on her part, from her husband's house, and left to seek redress by the

slow process of litigation. The Khan assures us that several ladies with

whom he conversed on these interesting topics, and who had passed many

years of their lives in India, were utterly unacquainted with these

protective rights of Hindustani wives; and were obliged to confess, that

if they were correctly stated, "the ladies in India are far better off

than ourselves. For (said they) the dowery we receive from our fathers

on our marriage goes to our husbands, who may squander it in one day if

they like; and even the dresses we wear are not our own property, but

are given us by our husbands." But if we allow the Khan all due credit

for the adroitness and success with which he maintained on this occasion

the cause of his fair countrywomen, we can scarcely acquit him of

something like disingenuousness in a discussion with "another lady,"

apparently one who had _not_ been in India, and who lamented the hard

fate (as she believed) of the Indian widows, who could not marry again

after the death of their first husband, and were at the mercy of the

priests, who filled their heads with terrors of a future state to

prevent their doing so. "With regard to this last idea, it is so

utterly groundless, that there is no word in our language corresponding

with 'priest;' and of all religions in the world, Islam is the least

influenced by spiritual meddlers of any sort. It is, besides, expressly

enjoined in the Koran, that widows should marry; they may do so as often

as they like, if they survive their husbands; and if they do not, it is

their own choice." Now, though this vehement denial of the Khan's is

perfectly true as regards _Moslem_ law and _Moslem_ widows, he must have

been well aware that the lady's error arose from her considering as

common to all the natives of India, Hindustanis as well as Hindus, those

customs and restrictions which are peculiar to the Hindus alone. Among

the latter, as is well known, both the priestcraft of the Brahmins, and

the impediments to the marriage of a widow,[20] exist in full force at

this day; and it would have been more candid on the part of the Khan,

even at the expense of a little of his Moslem pride, to have set his

fair opponent right on these points, than to have triumphed over her

ignorance, without showing her wherein lay her error.

But however deeply the Khan may have commiserated the unprotected

condition of English wives, as compared with the security of rights

enjoyed by the more fortunate dames of Hindustan, we find him at all

times disposed to do ample justice to the social qualifications and

accomplishments of our countrywomen, and the beneficial influence

exercised by them in smoothing the asperities of society. The masculine

portion of the community, indeed, find little favour in the eyes of the

Khan, who accuses them of being prone to indulge in inveterate enmity

and ill-feeling on slight grounds, while instances of real friendship,

on the contrary, are extremely rare: and he is wearied and disgusted by

the endless disputes which occur at all times and all places, from the

collision of individuals of adverse political sentiments. "They dispute

in parliament, they dispute in their social circles, they dispute in

steam-boats, on railroads, in eating and drinking; and I verily believe

that, but for some slight feeling of religion, they would dispute even

in their churches. But in the same proportion as the men were hostile to

each other, did the women seem united: the more there were of these fair

creatures, the pleasanter did they make the party by their smiles and

good-humour: with the men, the more there were collected together, the

more wrangling always ensued. In qualities of the mind and heart, as

well as in the social virtues, the women far surpass the men--they are

more susceptible of friendship, more hospitable to strangers, less

reserved, and, I must say, generally better informed. Wherever I have

been conversing with gentlemen in society, if a difficulty occurred on

any topic, the men would invariably turn to their wives or sisters, and

ask for an explanation, thus tacitly admitting the superior attainments

of the ladies: and I have always found that I obtained from the latter a

more satisfactory answer to any of my enquiries on national customs and

institutions. Nor must it be supposed that this superiority was only

apparent, and arose from the desire the men might have to display the

accomplishments of their ladies by referring so constantly to them: it

is the real state of the case, as far as I can judge from the manners of

the people."

We cannot better close our extracts from the Khan's remarks on English

manners and society, than with this spontaneous tribute to the merits

and attractions of our countrywomen, the value of which is enhanced by

its coming, as it does, from an acute observer of a social system in

which every thing was wholly at variance with his preconceived habits

and ideas, and from one, moreover, totally unacquainted with that

routine of compliment, which serves gentlemen in the regions of

Franguestan, to use the words of Die Vernon, "like the toys and beads

which navigators carry with them to propitiate the inhabitants of

newly-discovered lands." But the impression produced on the Khan by the

contemplation of the institutions and resources of England has yet to be

viewed in another light--in its relations to the government of India

under Feringhi rule, and the comparative benefits conferred on the

people at large, by the sway respectively of the English, and of their

old Mohammedan rulers. The Khan's opinions on these subjects will

doubtless be read with surprise by that numerous and respectable class

of the community, who hold as an article of faith, (to use the words of

our author,) that in Mohammedan countries "every prince is a tyrant;

every court of justice full of corruption; and all the people sunk in

depravity, ignorance, and misery:" and who cling to the comfortable

delusion that we have succeeded, by the equity of our civil government,

in attaching to our rule the population of India. As a view of this

important subject _from the other side of the question_, taken by one,

however, by no means indisposed to do justice to what he considers as

the meritorious features of the English administration, the Khan's

comparative summary, though not wholly devoid of prejudice, possesses

considerable interest: and it must be admitted, that with respect to the

internal improvement of the country, his strictures have hitherto had

but too much foundation, though the schemes of the present

governor-general, if carried into effect, will go far to remove the

stigma from the Anglo-Indian rulers. After contrasting, in a

conversation with an English friend, the expedition of legal proceedings

under the Moslem rule, with the slow process of the English courts in

India, to be finally remedied only by the endless and generally

ineffectual course of appeal to the privy-council at home, (in which,

according to the Khan's statement, not a single individual of the number

who have undertaken the long voyage from India has ever succeeded,) he

proceeds--

"Historical facts seem to be wholly lost sight of by those who talk of

the conduct of Mohammedan rulers in India, who, as I could prove by many

instances, were constantly solicitous of the happiness of their

subjects. Shah-Jehan constructed a road from Delhi to Lahore, a distance

of 500 miles, with guard-houses at intervals of every three miles, and

at every ten or twelve miles a caravanserai, where all travellers were

fed and lodged at the Emperor's expense. Besides this, canals were dug,

and public edifices built, at the expense of millions, without taxing

the people to pay for them as here; and these edifices still stand, and

will endure for many years, as monuments of the munificence of the

monarchs who erected them. During the seventy years of the English

dominion in India, what has been done which would remind the people

fifty years hence, if they should retire from the country, that such a

nation had ever held sway there? The only memorials they would leave,

would be the numerous empty bottles scattered over the whole empire, to

indicate what has been done _in_, if not _for_ India! In some cases

also, they have squandered millions without benefit either to the people

or themselves. The money spent in three years on the insane war in

Cabul, if expended on the construction of railroads or canals, or the

extension of steam navigation on our great rivers, would have employed

thousands of men for twenty years, returned an immense profit to

government, and have gained them a good name among the people. But it is

the misfortune of India, that notwithstanding the high qualities of

energy and enterprise, united with superior education and intelligence,

unquestionably possessed by its masters, they display so lamentable and

apathetic an indifference to the amelioration of the country. Since I

have had such opportunities of observing the proofs of English art and

skill which I see every where and in every department, I cannot but the

more deeply regret that these wonderful discoveries, and strange and

unheard-of inventions, in every branch of science and art, are likely to

remain unknown to the people of India. If I were to relate on my return

all the wonders I have seen, no one would believe me: and to what could

I appeal in evidence of the truth of what I say? Are there any

establishments where these things can be shown to the people on any

thing like an adequate scale? If such institutions had been established,

the people would have some tangible proof of the real intellectual

superiority of their English rulers: but in the lapse of seventy years,

nothing has been done. Again, if seminaries had been founded on the

principle of those built and endowed by the emperors, they might have

produced men eminent in various faculties: but though it is true that

schools were built by the Company some fifteen years since, in various

parts of the empire, in which some thousands of children, both Hindoo

and Moslem, have received education, they have never turned out a single

man of superior attainments in any department of literature there

taught:--and it is remarkable that not an instance exists, as far as I

am aware, of a man thus educated in the Company's own schools having

been selected for the high judicial offices of _Sadr-ameen_, and

principal _Sadr-ameen_ (judges in the local courts;) but that these

functionaries have invariably been chosen from those educated in the

native method. Is not this strange, that Government should have

established schools professing to give superior instruction to the

people; and that not one so trained should have been found eligible to

fill any of the judicial or fiscal offices of their own government? and

how can it be accounted for, except by these institutions having been

conducted on an erroneous principle? When I return to India, I must be

like the free-masons, silent and reserved, unless when I meet one who

has been, like myself, in England, and with whom I can converse on the

wonders we have both witnessed in that marvellous country, and which, if

I venture to narrate them in public, or even among my own immediate

friends and relatives, would draw on me such disbelief, that I would

certainly die from grief of heart."--Here leave we Kerim Khan; not

without a hope, that in spite of the apprehensions expressed in the

passage just quoted, of incurring the reproach to which "travellers'

tales" are supposed to be sometimes obnoxious, he has not eventually

persisted in withholding from his countrymen a narrative which, both

from the opportunities of observation enjoyed by the writer, and the

ability and good judgement with which he has availed himself of these

advantages, is better calculated to dispel the incredulity which he

anticipates, than the Travels of Mirza Abu-Taleb, (the text of which has

been printed at Calcutta,) or indeed than any work with which we are

acquainted. Trusting, then, that the Khan's patriotic aspirations for

the welfare of his country may be realized by the speedy introduction of

all those Feringhi appendages to high civilization, the want of which he

so feelingly deplores, and that he may live a thousand years in the full

fruition of all the advantages therefrom resulting, we now take leave

of him.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] The palace constructed, in the early ages of the world, by

the giant-king Sheddad, as a rival to the heavenly paradise, and

supposed still to exist, though invisible to mortal eyes, in the

recesses of the Desert--See LANE'S _Thousand and One Nights_, vol, ii.

p. 342.

[12] The Persian princes imagine these children to be collected

from all parts of the United Kingdom, for the purpose of this

procession!

[13] The Khan never gives dates; but on investigation we find

that this must have been on the 11th of June 1841; as among the list of

visitors on that day occur the names of _Kurreen_ Khan, Mohabet Khan,

and, singularly enough, the Parsee poet, Manackjee Cursetjee, who will

be well remembered as a lion of the London drawing-rooms during that

season.

[14] The _polite_ dialect of Hindustani, which differs

considerably from that in use among the lower orders. The phrase is

derived from _Oorda_, the court, or camp, of the sovereign--whence our

word _horde_.

[15] "One hundred and fifty-three of the students," he adds,

"were fixed upon for commissions, who were to be sent out to India;" but

the Khan must have been strangely misinformed here, as the number

actually selected was only thirty-one.

[16] This must have been the Trafalgar of 120 guns, which was

launched June 21, 1841; but the Khan is mistaken in supposing that the

Queen personally performed the ceremony of _christening_ the ship, since

that duty devolved on Lady Bridport, the niece of Nelson, who used on

the occasion a bottle of wine which had been on board the Victory when

Nelson fell.

[17] This must be a slip of the pen for _Selim_, or perhaps for

Soliman Ibn Selim, (Soliman the Magnificent.)

[18] "At this epoch," adds the Khan in a note, "reigned the

great Harun-al-Rashid, the khalif and supreme head of Islam; and

Charles the Great was Emperor of the Franks."

[19] The Mirza even went so far as to write during his stay in

England a treatise, entitled "Vindication of the Liberties of the

Asiatic Women," which was translated by Captain Richardson, and

published first in the _Asiatic Annual Register_ for 1801, and again as

an Appendix to the Mirza's Travels. It is a very curious pamphlet, and

well worth perusal.

[20] Great efforts have of late been made, among the more

enlightened Hindus, to get rid of this prejudice. Baboo Motee Loll Seal,

a wealthy native of Calcutta, offered 20,000 rupees, a year or two

since, to the first Hindu who would marry a widow, and we believe the

prize has been since claimed:--and in the _Asiatic Journal_ (vol.

xxxviii. p. 370,) we find the announcement of the establishment, in

1842, of a "Hindu widow re-marrying club" at Calcutta!

NOTES ON A TOUR OF THE DISTURBED DISTRICTS IN WALES.

BY JOSEPH DOWNES.

Author of "The Mountain Decameron."

Llangaddock, Carmarthenshire,

September 9.

"And this is the '_disturbed district!_'--this is the seat of war!--the

'_Agrarian civil war!_'--the headquarters of the '_Rebecca rebels!_" I

soliloquized, about the hour of one A.M. on the night of September 9,

1843--a night of more than summer beauty, sultry and light as day--while

thrusting my head from the window of "mine inn" the Castle, in this

pretty picturesque little village-town, to coin a term. The shadows of

the rustic houses, and interspersed corn-stacks, trees, and orchards,

stretched across the irregular street, without a causeway, in unbroken

quiet; not a sound was heard but the voice of an owl from a "fold" in

the very heart of "the town," and the low murmur of the river chafing

against the buttresses of an antique bridge at the end of the said

"street;" while an humble bow window of a shop, where at nightfall I had

observed some dozens of watches (_silver_, too!) displayed, without a

token of "Rebecca" terrorism appearing, was seen jutting into the road,

only hidden, not defended, by such a weak apology for a shutter, as

would not have resisted a burglar of ten years' old.

It was now Sunday morning, and the clean-swept neatness of the sleeping

village, whose inhabitants we had seen busily engaged in this pleasing

preparation for the day of rest, as we strolled there at twilight,

confirmed the assurance of profound and fearless peace; for only in that

happy condition of society could the mind be supposed disengaged enough

to regard those minute decencies of rural English life. With a smile of

well-pleased wonder at the exaggerations of the press, which were

persuading the Londoners that the "dogs of war" were really "let slip"

among these our green mountains and pastoral valleys, after enjoying

this prospect of a village by moonlight at the foot of the majestic

_Mynydd Du_, (black mountain,) whose range is seen by day, towering at a

few miles' distance, and hugging myself in the security of life and

purse, which warriors (if they would cross-question their own great

hearts) do really prize as much as I do, I returned to bed, (the heat of

which had first driven me forth to this air-bath of half an hour.) "And

_this_ is the seat of insurrection!" I reiterated sarcastically against

all English and all Welsh purveyors of "news" for terror-loving readers.

I have a huge deal of patriotism in my composition--also, a great love

of rural quiet, joined to some _trifling_ degree of cowardice, as my

family pretend; but that I impute to my over-familiarity with them. "No

man is great to his valet," has been remarked. The domestics of

Alexander wondered what the world found to wonder at, in the little man

their master. However this may be, I confess it was very pleasant to me

to find peace unbroken in these my old haunts. Here I had many a summer

night enacted, as recorded in my "Mountain Decameron," the

amateur-gipsy, "a long while ago," _bivouacking_ in their wildest

solitudes, between some wood and water, on moonlight greensward, or

reading at our tents' mouth by a lamp, while two boys, my sons, slept

soundly within; and in the blindness of human nature, thus sneering

against the "gentlemen of the press," sneered myself to sleep, "shut up

in measureless content."

"Most lame and impotent conclusion!" The peace of nature in that sweet

night was weak assurance of any kindred feeling in the bosom of man. It

so happened (as I afterwards learned) that felony--_bloody_ felony--was

at that very time busy, at no great distance; that murder, that arson in

its direst character, were stamping their first damnable characters on a

province noted, through ages, for innocence and simple piety; that the

first victim to rebellion was, at that moment, bleeding to death under

the hands of those wearing the shapes of men; that victim innocent,

helpless, and--a woman!!

But of this in the course of my narrative. Sunday, September 10.

As I proceeded from Llangaddock this afternoon, in company with my son,

we found no slackness in the attendance on the chapels, which keep

rising in all directions in the principality. The groups issuing from

them, survey us with surly eyes, as _Sabbath-breakers_, for travelling

on the "Lord's day." It is curious to reflect that these very persons

who have just been listening to the preachers of a gospel of peace, with

white upturning eyes and inward groans, who present countenances deeply

marked, as it seems to us, with the spirit of severe sanctity, betrayed

by their sour looks at us, and not rarely vested in two or three

expressions _at_ us among themselves--I say, how curious a fact in the

_pathology_ of minds does it present, that these very men will (some of

them) reappear in a few hours, or days, in the characters of _felons_,

midnight rebels to law and order, redressing minor wrongs committed by a

few against themselves, by a tenfold fouler wrong against all men,

against society itself. For a _system_ which consists in defying the

laws, is a systematic waging of war against the very element that binds

men in society--it is a casting off of civilization, a return to

miserable dependence on animal strength alone, on brutish cunning, or

midnight hiding in the dark, for all we enjoy. It seems well known that

the farmers themselves are the Rebeccaites, aided by their servants, and

that _the_ Rebecca is no other than some forward booby, or worse

character, who ambitiously claims to _act_ the leader, under the unmanly

disguise of a female, yielding his post in turn to other such petticoat

heros. The "Rebecca" seems no more than a living figure to give _effect_

to the drama, as boys dress up an effigy and parade it as _the_ Guy

Fawkes.

It is curious to witness the chop-fallen aspect of the poor

toll-collectors. The "looking for" of a dark hour is depicted on the

_female_ faces, at least, and a certain constrained civility mixed with

sullenness, marks the manners of the male portion near large towns; for

elsewhere, humble civility has _always_ met the traveller in this class

of Welsh cottagers. The frequent appearance of dragoons, the clatter of

their dangling accoutrements of war, and grotesque ferocity of hairy

headgear, and mock-heroic air of superiority to the more quietly

grotesque groups of grey-coated men, and muffled up Welsh women gives a

new feature to our tour in this hitherto tranquil region, where a

soldier used to be a monster that men, women, children, all alike, would

run to the cottage door to look at. A very different sort of look than

that of childish curiosity now greets these gallant warriors, at least

from the farmers. "'Becca" is the beloved of their secret hearts--'Becca

has already given them roads without paying for them! 'Becca is longed

for by every _honest_ farmer of them all, whenever he pays a toll-gate.

And these fellows are come sword in hand, to hunt down poor innocent

'Becca! Well may the Welshman's eyes lower on them, whatever may be the

looks of the Welsh women.

We have now rode through several toll-gates, the ruins of the

toll-houses only remaining, and rode scatheless! No toll asked--no

darting forth of a grim figure from his little castle, at the shake of

the road by tramp of horses--like the spider showing himself at his

hole, on the trembling of his web to the struggle of a luckless fly.

Nothing appeared but a shell of a house, with blackened remains of

rafters, or a great heap of stones, not even a wall left--and huge

stumps of gate-posts, and not a hand extended, or voice raised to demand

payment for our use of a road!--that payment which the laws of the land

had formally pronounced due! Had new laws been passed? Had a new mode

arisen of discharging the debt we had incurred by the purchase of the

use of so much road for two horses? Nothing of the kind! A mob at

midnight had thrown down the barrier law had built; and law dared not,

or neglected to--erect it again! "Rebecca," like Jack Cade, had

pronounced _her_ law--"sic volo, sic jubeo"--and we rode through, by

virtue of her most graceless Majesty's absolute edict--cost free. It was

really a very singular feeling we experienced on the first of these

occasions. I assure thee, my reader; believe me, my pensive public! I

never was transported--never held up hand at the Old Bailey, or

elsewhere; am not conscious of any sinister sort of projections about

my skull that phrenologists might draw ugly conclusions on; yet I

confess, that after an eloquent burst of Conservative wrath against this

strange triumph of anarchy--after looking down on these works of mob

law, unreversed, tamely endured--after fancying I saw the prostrate

genius of social order there lying helpless--the dethroned majesty of

British law there grovelling among the black ruins, insulted,

unrestored--left to be trampled over with insolent laughter, by

refractory boors, ignorant as savages of that law's inestimable

blessing--I say, after all these hurried thoughts and feelings--let me

whisper thee, my reader, that a certain scandalous pleasure _did_ creep

up from these finger-ends, instinctively groping the pocket for the

pre-doomed "thrippence," yea, quite up to this lofty, reasoning, and

right loyal sensorium, on leaving the said sum in good and lawful money,

snug and safe in my own pocket, instead of handing it over to a toll

collector. Let us not expect too much from poor human nature! I defy any

man--Aristides Redivivus himself, to ride _toll free_ through, or rather

over, a turnpike defunct in this manner, and not feel a pernicious

pleasure at his heart, a sort of slyly triumphing satisfaction, spite of

himself, as of a dog that gets his adversary undermost; in

short--without becoming for the moment, under the Circean chink of the

saved "coppers," a rank Rebeccaite! The Lord and the law forgive me, for

I surely loved 'Becca at _heart_ at that moment!

My son being a young man about returning to college, it was highly

important to conceal this backsliding within; so I launched out the more

upon the monster character of this victory of brawny ignorance and

stupid rebellion over the spirit of laws--but it wouldn't do. "But you

don't _look_ altogether so angry about it as you speak, father," said

he, though what he could see to betray any inward chuckling, I am not

aware. If the casual saving of a toll could thus operate upon ME, who

should, perhaps, never pass there again, can it be wondered at that

farmers, to whom this triumph must prove a great annual gain, are

Rebeccaites _to the backbone_, and to a man? I fear they must be more

than man, not to cry secretly to this levelling lady "God speed!" And

this leads me to more serious reflection on the incomprehensible and

fatal conduct of the local authorities _in the first instance_, in not

_instantly_ re-erecting the toll-gates, or fixing chains _pro tempore_,

protecting at whatever expense some persons to demand compliance with

the laws, that not for a week, a day, an hour, the disgraceful and

dangerous spectacle should be exhibited, of authority completely

down-trodden, law successfully defied. Surely the first step in

vindication of the dignity of legal supremacy could not be difficult. By

day, at least, surely a constabulary force might have compelled

obedience. A few military at _first_, stationed near the gates, would

have awed rustic rebels. It is the _impunity_ which this unheard-of

palsy of the governing strong hand so long ensured to them, which has

fostered riot into rebellion, and rebellion into incendiarism and

murder. Is it possible for a thinking man to see these poor and (truth

to tell) most money-loving people, saving two or three shillings every

time they drive their team to market or lime, by the prostration of a

gate, and be at a loss to discover the secret of this midnight work

spreading like wildfire? Why, every transit which a farmer makes cost

free, is a spur to his avarice, a tribute of submission to his lawless

will, a temptation to his ignorant impatience of _all_ payments to try

his hand against all. The quiet acquiescence in refusal to pay--the

vanishing of toll-house and toll-takers without one magisterial

edict--the mere submission to the mob, seems to cry "_peccavi_" too

manifestly, and affords fresh colour to indiscriminate condemnation of

all. A _bonus_ in the shape of a toll for horse or team remitted, is

thus actually presented, many times a-day, to the rioter, the rebel, the

midnight incendiary of toll-houses, for this good work, by the supine,

besotted, or fear-palsied local authorities. Shall a man look on while a

burglar enters his house, ransacks his till, let him depart, and then,

in despair, leave the door he broke open, open still all night for his

entrance, and then wonder that burglary is vastly on the increase? The

wonder, I think, is that one gate remains; and that wonder will not

exist long, if government do not do something more than send down _a_

gentleman to ask the Welsh what they please to want? The temptation

forced upon the eyes and minds of a poverty-stricken and greedy people,

by this shocking spectacle of the mastery of anarchy over order, in the

annihilation of an impost by armed mountain peasants, is in itself a

great cruelty; for in all Agrarian risings the state has triumphed at

last, inasmuch as wealth and its resources are an over-match for

poverty, however furious or savage; hence blood will flow under the

sword of justice ultimately, which early vigilance on her part might

have wholly spared. "Knock down that toll-house--fire its

contents--murder its tenant," seems the voice of such sleepy justice to

pronounce, "and neither I, nor my myrmidons will even _ask_ you again

for toll! Do this, and you shall not pay!!"

Such was the tacit invitation kindly presented by the _first_ torn down

toll-gate that remained in ruins, to every Welsh farmer. The farmer has

accepted it, and "justice"--justice keeps her promise religiously, for

no toll is demanded. If the law had been violated by trustees, we have a

body called parliament strong enough to reform, ay, and punish them, as

they, some of them perhaps, richly deserve; but was that a reason for

the laws to be annulled, and lawlessness made the order of the day, in

so important a matter as public roads, by the very men who are to profit

by it, self-erected into judges in their own cause?

* * * * *

Llandilo Vaur. Evening, Sept. 10.

Sunday.

A scene to turn even a "commercial traveller" (_vulgo_ a bagman) into a

"sentimental" one, if any thing could! Clouds that had overcast our ride

of the last few miles, kindly "flew diverse" as we reached the bridge

over the Towey, that flows at the foot of the declivity on which this

romantic town stands. The sun broke forth, and all at once showed, and

burnished while it showed, one of the noblest landscapes in South

Wales--not the less attractive for being that which kindled the muse of

Dyer--on which the saintly eye of a far greater poet had often

reposed--the immortal _prose-poet_ bishop, Jeremy Taylor, a refugee here

during the storm of the Civil Wars. Golden Grove, his beautiful retreat,

with its venerable trees, was in our sight, the green mountain meadows

between literally verifying its name by the brilliance of their sunshiny

rich grass, where "God had showered the landscape;" to a fantastic

fancy, giving the idea of the quivering of the richest leaf gold on a

ground of emerald. The humbler Welsh Parnassus of the painter poet,

Grongar Hill, towered also in distance. We traced the pastoral yet noble

river, winding away in long meanders, up-flashing silver, through a

broad mountain valley, dotted with white farms, rich in various foliage,

marked as a map by lines, with well-marked hedge-rows; harvest fields

full of sheaves, yellowing all the lofty slopes that presented these

beautiful farms and folds full to the descending sun; those slopes,

surmounted by grand masses of darkness, solemnly contrasted with the gay

luxuriance all below; that darkness only the shade of woods, nodding

like the black plume over the golden armour of some giant hero of fable,

"magna componere parvis."

Nearer, rose directly from the river a noble park, with all the charm of

the wild picturesque, from its antique look, its romantic undulations

and steepness, its woody mount and ivied ruin of a castle, "bosomed high

in tufted trees," half-hidden, yet visible and reflected in the

now-placid mirror of a reach of the river.

Being Sunday, a moral charm was added to those of this exquisite natural

panorama, from which the curtain of storm-cloud seemed just then drawn

up, as if to strike us the more with its flashing glory of sunshine,

water, and a whole sky become cerulean in a few minutes. No Sabbath

bells chimed, indeed; but the hushed town, and vacant groups come abroad

to enjoy the return of that Italian weather we had long luxuriated in,

impressed, equally with any music, the idea of Sabbath on the mind. It

was hard to believe, revolting to be forced to believe, that this fine

scene of perfect beauty and deep repose, as presented to the eye,

directed to nature only--to the mind's eye rolling up to nature's

God--was also the (newly transfigured) theatre of man's worst and

darkest passions; that the _army_--that odious, hideous, necessary curse

of civilization, the severe and hateful guardian of liberty and peace,

(though uncongenial to both)--was at that moment evoked by all the

lovers of both for their salvation; was even then violating the ideal

harmony of the hour, by its foul yet saving presence; was parading those

green suburbs, and the sweet fields under those mountain walls, with

those clangours so discordant to the holy influences of the hour and

scene--emerging in their gay, shocking costume, (the colour of blood,

and devised for its concealment,) from angles of rocks, and mouths of

bowered avenues, where the mild fugitive from civil war, and faithful

devotee of his throneless king, had often wandered, meditating on "Holy

Dying"--of "Holy Living" himself a beautiful example--where even still,

nothing gave outward and visible sign of incendiarism and murder lurking

among those hermitages of rustic life; yet were both in active, secret

operation!

In that very park of _Dynevor_, whose beauty we were admiring from the

bridge, a little walk would have led us to--a _grave!_--no consecrated

one, but one dug ready to receive a corpse; _dug, in savage threatening

of slaughter, for the reception of one yet living_--the son of the noble

owner of that ancient domain--dug in sight of his father's house, in his

own park, by wretches who have warned him to prepare to fill that grave

in October! The gentleman so threatened, being void of all offence save

that of being a magistrate--a sworn preserver of the public peace!

Equally abhorrent to rational piety, if less shocking, is that air of

sourest sanctity which the groups now passing us bring with them out

from the meeting-houses.

Ask a question, and a nasal noise between groan and snort seems to

signify that they ask to be asked again, a sort of _ha--a--h?_ "long

drawn out." The human face and the face of nature, at that hour, were as

an east of thunder fronting a west of golden blue summer serenity. The

Mawworms of Calvinistic Methodism have made a sort of monkery of all

Wales, as regards externals at least. To think a twilight or noonday

walk for pleasure a sin, involves the absurdest principle of ascetic

folly, as truly as self-flagellation, or wearing horsehair shirts. Not

that these ministers set their flocks any example of self-mortification.

The greater number of preachers show excellent "condition," the poorest

farmers' wives vying with each other in purveying "creature comforts"

for these spiritual comforters. Preparing hot dinners, it seems, is not

working on the Lord's Day when it is for the preacher; though to save a

field of corn, which is in danger of being spoiled if left out, as in

some seasons, would be a shocking desecration of that day. Yet, to

observe the abstracted unearthly carriage of these men, who seem

"conversing with the skies" while walking the streets, one wonders at

the contrast of such burly bodies and refined spirits.

To return to the flock from these burly shepherds of souls--this

outbreak of a devilish spirit--this crusade against law and order, tolls

and tithes, life and property, is a damning evidence against these

spiritual pastors and masters, for such they are to the great body of

the Welsh common people, in the fullest sense. The _Times_ newspaper has

ruffled the whole "Volscian" camp of Dissent, it appears, by thundering

forth against them a charge of inciting their congregations to midnight

crime. "John Joneses, and David Reeses, and Ap Shenkinses, have sprung

up like the men from the dragon's teeth, to repel this charge. It is

probable that it was not well founded, for the simple reason, that such

daring subornation of crime would have brought _themselves_ into

trouble. But what sort of defence is this, even if substantiated? You

did not _excite_ your followers to rebellion and arson! _You_, with your

unlimited command of their minds, and almost bodies, why did you not

allay, resist, put down the excitement, by whomever raised? That is the

gravamen of the charge against you! You who make then weep, make then

tremble, puff them with spiritual conceit, or depress them with terrors

of damnation just as you please, how comes it that you are powerless all

at once in deterring them from wild and bad actions--you, who are

all-powerful in inciting them to any thing, since to refrain from

violence is easier than to commit it?

The increase of these outrages proves, that not the power, but will, is

wanting on your part, to put down this spirit of revenge and revolt. You

perceive the current of their ignorant minds setting strongly in toward

rapine and rebellion, (the _feeler_ put forth being the toll grievance,)

and you basely, wickedly, pander to their passions, by a discreet

silence in your rostra, an unchristian apathy; while deeds are being

done under your very eyes--in your daily path--which no good man can

view without horror; no bold good man in the position which you hold, of

public instructors in human duties, could see, without denouncing! And

as your boldness, at least, is pretty apparent, whatever your goodness

may be, other motives than fear must be sought for this unaccountable

suspension of your influence--and I find it in _self-interest_--love of

"filthy lucre." You are "supported by voluntary contribution," and to

thwart the passions of your followers, and stem the tide of lawless

violence, though your most sacred spiritual duty, is not the way to

conciliate--is not compatible with that "voluntary principle" on which

your bread depends, and which too often places your duty and your

interest in direct opposition."

* * * * *

Llanon, Carmarthenshire.

The good woman of our inn in this village has just been apologizing for

the almost empty state of her house, the furniture being chiefly sent

away to Pembree, whither she and her family hoped to follow in a few

days. The cause of her removal was _fear of the house being set fire

to_, it being the property of Mr Chambers, a magistrate of Llanelly, and

the "Rebecca's company" had warned all his tenants to be prepared for

their fiery vengeance. His heinous offence was heading the police in

discharge of his duty, in a conflict that has just occurred at

Pontardulais gate, near this place, in which some of the 'Beccaites were

wounded. [Since this, farm-houses and other property of this gentleman

have been consumed, his life has been threatened, and his family have

prevailed on him to abandon his home and native place.] The wounded men,

now prisoners, were of this village, the _focus_ of this rebellion that

dares not face the day. It is here that the murderous midnight attack

was made on the house of a Mr Edwards, when the wretches fired volleys

at the windows, where his wife and daughter appeared _at their command_.

They escaped, miraculously it might be said, notwithstanding. The poor

old hostess complained, as well she might, of the hardship of being thus

put in peril, purely in hostility to her landlord. We slept, however,

soundly, and found ourselves alive in the morning; whether through

evangelical Rebecca's scruples about burning us out (or _in_) on a

"Lord's Day" night, or her being engaged elsewhere, we knew not.

And here also we rode through a crowd, murmuring hymns, pouring from the

chapel, where, no doubt, they had heard some edifying discourse about

the "sweet Jesus," and "sweet experiences," and "new birth," the

omnipotence of faith to salvation, and all and every topic but a _man's_

just indignation, and a religious man's most solemn denunciation against

the bloody and felonious outrages just committed by those very

villagers--against the night-masked assassins, who had just before

wantonly pointed deadly weapons against unoffending women--against the

chamber of a sick man, a husband, and a father!

* * * * *

Llanelly, Sept. 11, Monday.

The headquarters of vindictive rebellion, arson, and spiritual oratory!

An ugly populous town near the sea, now in a ferment of mixed fear and

fury, from recent savage acts of the Rebeccaites against a most

respectable magistrate, resident in the town, Mr W. Chambers, jun., the

denounced landlord of our old Welsh hostess at Llanon. Two of his

farm-houses have been burned to the ground, and his life has been

threatened. His grievous offence I stated before. Soldiers are seen

every where; and verily, the mixture of brute-ignorance and

brute-ferocity, depicted in the faces of the great mass of "operatives"

that we meet, seem to hint that their presence is not prematurely

invoked. Their begrimed features and figures, caused by their various

employments, give greater effect to the wild character of the coatless

groups, who, in their blue check shirt-sleeves, congregate at every

corner to _cabal_, rather than to _dispute_, it seems; for, fond as they

are of dissent, (though not one in fifty could tell you _from_ what

they dissent, or _to_ what they cleave in doctrine,) there seems no

leaning to dissent from the glorious new Rebecca law of might (or

midnight surprisals) against right.

In this neighbourhood, our Welsh annals will have to record--_the first

dwelling-house_, not being a toll-house, _was laid in ashes; the first

blood was shed_ by "Rebecca's company," as they call the rioters here.

And _here_ resides, rants, prays, and preaches, and scribbles sedition,

an illiterate fanatic, who is recognised as an organ of one sect of

Methodists, Whitfieldites publishing a monthly inflammatory Magazine,

called Y Diwygiwr, (the "_Reformer!_")--God bless the mark!

This little pope, within his little circle of the "great unwashed," is

very oracular, and his infallibility a dogma with his followers and

readers. How much he himself and his vulgar trash of prose run mad,

stand in need of that wholesome reform which some of his English

brother-firebrands have been taught in Coldbathfields and Newgate, let

my reader judge from the following extract. The _Times_ newspaper did

good service in _gibbeting_ this precious morceau, supplied by its

indefatigable reporter, in its broad sheet. How great was the neglect of

_Welsh_ society, and every thing Welsh, when this sort of war-cry of

treason could be raised, this trump of rebellion sounded, and, as it

were, from the pulpit "Evangelical," with perfect impunity to the

demagogue, thus prostituting religion itself to the cause of anarchical

crime!--

"We cannot regard these tumults, with their like in other parts, but as

the effects of Tory oppression. Our wish is to see _Rebecca and her

children arrayed by thousands, for the suppression of Toryism_. These

are the only means to remove the burden from the back of the country....

Resolve to see the sword of reason plunged in oppression's heart." He

goes on to say, "_there must be a hard-blowing storm_ before the high

places in State and Church can be levelled," &c. &c. There is the usual

twaddle about "_moral_ force," forsooth, under which saving periphrasis,

now-a-days, every rebel ranter in field, or tub, or conventicle,

insinuates lawless violence without naming it. Jack Cade would have made

it the rallying cry of his raggamuffins, so would Wat Tyler, had it been

hit upon in his day. The _array_ of _thousands_ is intelligible "to the

meanest capacity." The dullest Welsh "copper-man," or collier, or wild

farm cultivator, could not miss the meaning. But as to this magical

weapon, "moral force," which they are to handle when so arrayed--the

brightest capacity must be at a loss to know what it means. How absurd

(if he pretends such a thing) to expect that enlightened statesmen will

stand reformed, restrained, stricken through, with a new light in

politics by the exhibition of these smutty patriots' _minds_ alone!--by

the force of conviction, wrought by ascertaining _their_ convictions,

(the _illuminati_ of Llanelly coal-works, of Swansea copper-works, of

Carmarthen farm-yards,) will instantly _tack_--put the vessel of State

right about, and bring her triumphant into the placid haven of

Radicalism! And why _physical_ "array" to wield such shadowy arms as

"_moral_" force? This favourite stalking-horse of incendiary politics is

but the secret hiding-place of retreat from the "force of government."

The peace, the forbearance it breathes, is like the brief silence

maintained--the holding of the breath--by those snugly ensconced within

that other horse of famous memory, the _Trojan_, which served admirably

to lay vigilance asleep, and evade the defensive _force_ of the

garrison, till the hour came to leap from its protection, and fire the

citadel. This "moral force" covert of revolt, is every whit as hollow,

as treacherous, as fatal, if trusted to. Inflame, enrage, and then

gather together "thousands" of the most ignorant of mankind, pointing to

a body, or a class, or a government, as the sole cause of whatever they

suffer or dislike, and then--_tell_ them to be moral! peaceable! not to

use those tens of thousands of brawny arms, inured to the sledge-hammer;

oh, no! tell them that _force_ means to stand still--or disperse--or

gabble--any thing but to--_fight!_ And such vile "juggling with us in a

double sense" as this, is evangelical morality!

In justice to the Liberal party, I shall add that it does not sanction

the ravings of this hypocrite, but laughs at his illiterate pretensions

to the character of a public writer. As evidence of this, the editor of

the _Welshman_, a Liberal journal, published at Carmarthen, has ably

castigated this sedition-monger, who has exposed his own ignorance in

venting his wrath at the infliction.

* * * * *

Pontardulais. Monday Evening.

It was pleasant to emerge from that dingy seat of fanaticism and fury,

pseudo religion and moral violation of religion's broad principles. Its

aspect almost recalled the description of one of Rome's imperial

monsters, equally in physionomy and nature--"a mixture of dirt and

blood." The day was superb, and the adjacent country, though rather tame

_for Wales_, improved in rural beauty as we approached a crossway very

near to this village, Pontardulais. Two cottages appeared in a green,

quiet, dingle we were descending to, watered by a small river, and

surrounded by sloping meadows, now yellowed by the evening sun, and well

inhabited by their proper population, sheep and cows, now beginning

their homeward course at the call of the milkmaid; the only other motion

in this simply beautiful landscape, being a scattered gleaner or two,

with her load, and the rather thick volume of blue smoke curling up from

one of those cots, which, standing so close, without any other near,

prompted the idea of some rustic old couple in conjugal quietude,

smiling out life's evening, by themselves, apart from all the world.

Such was the perfect calm of scene, and the day in which summer heat was

joined to the golden serenity of autumn.

We were beginning to dismiss ugly Rebeccaism from our thoughts,

meditating where we should find one of those Isaac Waltonian hostelries,

with a sign swinging from an old tree, which we delight to make our

evening quarters; for Pontardulais, we knew, was too lately a little

battle-field to afford hope of this tranquil bliss, for here had

occurred the first conflict, in which men had been wounded and prisoners

made. The advance of evening, with its halcyon attributes of all kinds,

had the effect of a lullaby on the mind, disturbed at every stage by

some hurrying dragoon, some eager gossiping group, or fresh "news" of

some farm "burned last night," or rumours of "martial law" being

actually impending over us poor rebels of South Wales.

Reaching the little houses in their lonely crossway, we were startled by

the appearance of a gutted house; the walls alone having remained to

present to us, on the higher ground, the semblance of a white cottage.

The old thatch, fallen in, and timber, were still smouldering visibly,

though the house was fired about one A.M. yesterday morning.

Before the near adjoining cottage a quiet crowd of some twenty persons

appeared, and a few rustic articles of furniture on the roadside. Where

was their owner? Dismounting, we entered this cottage, that had looked

all peaceful security so lately to our eyes. It had not been injured,

but was all dismantled and in confusion; and stretched on some low sort

of bench or seat, lay the murdered owner of that smoking ruin--the Hendy

toll-house. Her coffin had been already made, (the coffin-plate giving

her age, 75,) and stood leaning against the wall, but the body was

preserved just as it fell, for the inspection of the jury. (The jury! a

British jury! Is there a British _man_, incapable of perjury, of

parricide, of bloody and blackest felony, _himself_, who will ever

forget, who will ever cease to spurn, spit upon in thought,

execrate in words, that degraded, wretched, most wicked knot of

murder-screeners--_the Hendy Gate jury?_)

There was nothing in this dismal spectacle for a poet to find there food

for fancy. All was naked, ugly horror. An old rug just veiled the

corpse, which, being turned down, revealed the orifice, just by the

nipple, of a shot or slug wound, and her linen was stiff and saturated

with the blood which had flowed. Another wound on the temple had caused

a torrent of blood, which remained glued over the whole cheek. The

retracted lips of this poor suffering creature, gave a dreadful grin to

the aged countenance, expressing the strong agony she must have endured,

no doubt from the filling up of the breast with those three pints of

blood found there by the surgeons. The details of this savage murder

have been too fully given in all the papers to need repetition here.

Suffice it to say, that to any one _viewing_ the body as we thus

happened to do, the atrocity of this heartless treason against society

and the injured dead becomes yet more striking; it seeming wonderful

that the piteousness of the sight--the mute pleading of that mouth full

of cloated blood--the arousing ocular evidence of the unprovoked

assassin's cruelty--the helplessness of the aged woman--her

innocence--all should not have kindled humanity in their hearts, (if all

principle was dead in their dark minds,) just enough to dare to call a

foul murder "murder"--to turn those twelve Rebecca-ridden, crouching

slaves into _men_! Some of them, probably, had old helpless mothers at

home; did no flying vision of her white hairs all blooded, and the

breast, where they had lain and fed, full of blood also, cross the

conscience of one of them, when, by their conspiracy, protection for

life was to be denied to her, to all, by their unheard-of abuse of the

only known British protective power--trial by jury? It is almost an

apology for them to imagine, that one or more of them were actually part

of the gang. Self-preservation, under _instant_ danger, (involved in a

just verdict,) is less revolting than the less urgent degree of the same

natural impulse, implied in the hypothesis of pure selfish and most

dastardly dread of some remoter evil to self from the ill-will of those

impugned by a righteous verdict.

The verdict, it will be remembered, was, that Sarah Williams died from

effusion of blood, _but from what cause is to this jury unknown!!!_ The

designed _trick_--the sly juggle concocted by these men, sworn before

Almighty God to tell truth respecting the cry of blood then rising to

his throne, evidently was to leave a loop-hole for a doubt whereby

justice might be defeated--a possibility, so they flattered themselves,

that, just in the nick of time, a bloodvessel burst, or fright destroyed

her, or any thing but the bloody hand of "Rebecca." Though, as the slugs

were actually found _in_ the lungs, the hope they "dressed themselves

in" was as "drunk," as swinishly stupid, as their design was unmanly,

inhuman, and devilish--to wink at this horror! to huddle up this murder,

and hurry into the earth a murdered woman, as if she had lived out her

term!

Whatever was the prompting feeling of this monster-jury, let us hope

that the arm of the law will reach them yet, for this double crime

against bleeding innocence and against their country. It would be a

fitting punishment to them, to pronounce every individual an outlaw--to

deny him all benefit of those laws he has done his best to defeat, and

leave the craven traitor to his kind--to adopt his beloved "'Becca's"

disguise for ever, skulk about the land that disowns him in petticoats,

and blush out his life (if shame be left him;) and let his name be fixed

up, as a scarecrow to deter such evil doers, on the wall of every court

of justice:--"To the infamous memory of A. B., one of the perjured

protectors of murder--The Hendy Gate Jury!"

Most revolting was the _betrayed_ bias of almost all we spoke with,

toward palliation of this dark act. "_Didn't she die in a fit; or of

fright; or something?_" was a frequent question, even from those near

the scene of this tragedy. "_What did ail the old creture to go near

'em? Name of goodness! didn't they order her not?_" Even from her own

sex, a disgusting lack of warm-hearted pity and indignation was most

palpable. Truly, morality and the meeting-house have a deep gulf between

them, if these are the morals of the people. The regular church is

really so little prized here, that we can only turn to the _dissenting_

ministers of religious instruction, for the lower orders. And seeing

these doings and sentiments in the flocks, one turns with astonishment

to those professing _teachers_ of the Welsh, and is ready to

exclaim--"What is it that you _do_ teach?" Only the _mechanical_ part of

religion, only the necessary outer _mummery_, I shall venture to say,

which, perhaps, all revealed religions require, to maintain a hold on

the reverence of the common people. It seems impossible that the voice

of _true_ religion can have reached hearts that a slight pecuniary

interest, the abatement of a turnpike toll, or the like, can sear

against the death-shriek of murdered woman; the cry of blood out of the

earth; the fear of God's judgement against perjury, and connivance at

murder!

* * * * *

Kidwelly, Carmarthenshire, Sept. 12.

Riding from Llanelly to this place, by a road skirting the coast, we,

for the first time, heard the horn of Rebecca sounded, and replied to

from among the darkling hills, the night being one of dusky moonlight.

We at first believed it the signal of some persons in the collieries,

but learned that "'Becca's company" had been out round Kidwelly that

night, and an incendiary fire was the "good work" accomplished. It being

near ten o'clock at night, and our road wild and solitary, we felt

rather pleased to gain the covert of this usually most quiet little

town, with its air of antiquity and dead repose, as agreeable to a

sentimental traveller, as unwelcome to its few traders and dwellers.

The innkeepers and shopkeepers, _being much injured in their trades by_

the terrifying effect of Rebeccaism on strangers, who have kept aloof

all the summer, lift up the voice (but cautiously) against this terrible

lady. Hardly an expression of regret for the poor victim at Hendy Gate

reaches our ears; but rather, they seem to visit on her the anticipated

severity of future dealing with the rioters, which they foresee.

We see already posted placards, offering L.500 for the discovery of the

actual perpetrator of the murder of the poor toll-collector. It is

headed "Murder," in the teeth of the audacious, solemn declaration by

the jury, of their ignorance of the cause of death. _Query_, Was a

coroner warranted in receiving such a verdict? Was he not

empowered--required--to send the jury back to learn common sense?

* * * * *

Inn between Carmarthen and Llandilo.

Just as we were sauntering in the rural road, admiring the placidity of

the night, about ten o'clock, and the twilight landscape of the banks of

the Towey, a sudden light opened up to us the whole night prospect,

where the farther side of this broad vale rises finely covered with

woods, round Middleton Hall, and soon learned the nature of this sudden

illumination and pyramidal fire, being the conflagration of extensive

property belonging to its owner, Mr Adams, close to the mansion.

The terror of the female inhabitants may be imagined, there being, I

believe, not any male inmates but servants at home, and the incendiaries

doing their work at that early hour in the most daring manner, firing

guns, blowing horns, &c. Mr Adams drove in just as the fire was at its

height, (having, indeed, believed the house to be in flames while he

approached,) and found the goods and moveables all brought out in fear

of its catching fire; but it escaped--so did the Rebeccaites, of course.

Not to extend too far these hasty Notes, I shall throw together the

heads of a few made on the spot. Our "sentimental journey" occupied

about three weeks, and brought us to almost every part infested by the

disturbers. Having put up at an inn in the outskirts of a town in

Cardiganshire for the night, leaving the horses, we walked to the town.

As we returned, the night being rather dark, I was not conscious of any

one being on the same road behind, and was talking to my son, rather

earnestly, of the iniquitous verdict of the Hendy Gate assassin jury,

when a voice behind asked in English, saucily, if _I_ was going to

attend the future trial of the "Hugheses, and them of the Llanon

village, then in Swansea jail?" The tone clearly indicated how alien to

the Welshman's feelings were those I was expressing, though but those of

common humanity. Giving the voice in the dark such short answer,

refusing to satisfy him, as the question deserved, and with responsive

bluffness, we left the man behind, who, it proved, was bound to our inn.

We found our parlour filled with farmers, who instantly became _mum_ as

we entered, but their eyes suspiciously surveyed us. It was near eleven

o'clock, so we retired to our double-bedded chamber, which happened to

be situated over the parlour. The inn (whose owners were _ultra_

"Welshly," speaking English very badly,) was well situated for holding a

midnight council of (Rebecca) war, being lonely, at the confluence of

two roads, and this proved to be the nature of this late assemblage. We

were just in bed, (having _secured the door as well as we could_,) when

we heard through the imperfect flooring a very animated _melee_ of Welsh

tongues all astir at once, and I fancied I recognized the voice of the

pious Christian in the dark, who had been moved by the spirit (of

religion of course) to hint or betray his dissent from the Saxon

"stranger's" rebuke of perjury and murder-screening. A few minutes

after, several hurried out, and three or four discharges of guns

followed in front of the house, but nothing more. I was pleased to

think that the said house and windows were "mine host's," and not mine,

otherwise a little hail of shot might have followed the "short thunder;"

but as it was, nothing more than this warning bravado (as I imagine it

to have been) occurred.

A great deal of _solo_ spouting, by orators in orderly succession, went

on till near two in the morning--_Sunday_. At least, falling asleep, I

left this little patriot parliament sitting, and found it in full tongue

on awaking at that hour. I suppose this sitting in judgment on

toll-houses (and possibly _other_ houses) of these anti-landlord

committees, are _not_ breaches of the observance of the Sabbath.

On the whole, we may remark, that neither Poor-Law, nor Tory, nor Whig,

nor right rule, nor misrule, nor politics, nor party, had the slightest

influence in this astounding moral revolution among an agricultural

people. Utterly false is almost all that the London Press broached and

broaches, implicating ministers in the provocation of this outbreak.

Twenty years of residence, and leisure for observation among them,

allows me to positively deny that any feeling of discontent, any sense

of oppression, any knowledge of "Grievances," now so pompously heading

columns of twaddle--ever existed before the _one_ daily, weekly spur in

their side, goaded this simple people to a foolish mode of resistance to

it.

Why, not one in ten of the farmers has yet heard of Sir Robert Peel's

accession to office! and I doubt if one in twenty knows whether they

live under a Whig or Tory administration. Nor does one in a hundred

_care_ which, or form one guess about their comparative merits.

The only idea they have of Chartists, is a vague identification of them

with "_rebels_," as they _used_ to call _all_ sorts of rioters, not

dreaming of their forming any party with definite views, unless that of

seizing the good things of the earth, and postponing, _sine die_, the

day of payment.

Judge what chance the brawling apostles of Chartism would have here

among them, especially under the difficulty of haranguing them through

interpreters!

The Poor-Law they certainly hate, but from no pity for paupers. The

dislike arises from a wide spread belief, that the host of "officers"

attached to it swallows up great part of what they pay for the poor.

They grudged the poor-rate before, even when their own overseer paid it

away to poor old lame Davy or blind Gwinny; but now that it reaches them

by a more circuitous route, and in the altered form of loaves or

workhouse support, they seem to lose sight of it, and fancy that it

stops _by the way_, in the pockets of these "strange" new middlemen, as

we may call them, thrust in between the farmers and their poor and

worn-out labourers.

The prevalence of the Welsh language perpetuates the ignorance which is

at the root of the mischief. Of their _native_ writers, I have given a

specimen from the monthly magazine published at Llanelly, and the evil

of these is uncorrected by English information.

The work of mounting heavenward was, we are told, defeated by a

confusion of tongues--the advance of civilization (which we may

designate a progress toward a divine goal, that of soul-exalting and

soul-saving wisdom) is as utterly prevented by this non-intercourse

system between the civilized and the _half_ civilized; which, with all

deference to the ancient Britons, I must venture to consider them.

Camden, the antiquary, has preserved a tradition, that "certain

Brittaines" (Britons) going over into Armorica, and taking wives from

among the people of Normandy, "_did cut out their tongues_," through

fear that, when they should become mothers, they might corrupt the Welsh

tongue of the children, by teaching them that foreign language! The love

of their own tongue thus appears to be of very old standing, if we are

to believe this agreeable proof of it. I believe the extirpation of

Welsh, as a spoken language, would pioneer the way to knowledge,

civilization, and _religion_ here, of which last blessing there is a

grievous lack, judging from the morals of the people.

ADVENTURES IN TEXAS.

NO. II.

A TRIAL BY JURY.

When I recovered from my state of insensibility, and once more opened my

eyes, I was lying on the bank of a small but deep river. My horse was

grazing quietly a few yards off, and beside me stood a man with folded

arms, holding a wicker-covered flask in his hand. This was all I was

able to observe; for my state of weakness prevented me from getting up

and looking around me.

"Where am I?" I gasped.

"Where are you, stranger? By the Jacinto; and that you are _by_ it, and

not _in_ it, is no fault of your'n, I reckon."

There was something harsh and repulsive in the tone and manner in which

these words were spoken, and in the grating scornful laugh that

accompanied them, that jarred upon my nerves, and inspired me with a

feeling of aversion towards the speaker. I knew that he was my

deliverer; that he had saved my life, when my mustang, raging with

thirst, had sprung head-foremost into the water; that, without him, I

must inevitably have been drowned, even had the river been less deep

than it was; and that it was by his care, and the whisky he had made me

swallow, and of which I still felt the flavour on my tongue, that I had

been recovered from the death-like swoon into which I had fallen. But

had he done ten times as much for me, I could not have repressed the

feeling of repugnance, the inexplicable dislike, with which the mere

tones of his voice filled me. I turned my head away in order not to see

him. There was a silence of some moments' duration.

"Don't seem as if my company was over and above agreeable," said the man

at last.

"Your company not agreeable? This is the fourth day since I saw the face

of a human being. During that time not a bit nor a drop has passed my

tongue."

"Hallo! That's a lie," shouted the man with another strange wild laugh.

"You've taken a mouthful out of my flask; not _taken_ it, certainly, but

it went over your tongue all the same. Where do you come from? The beast

ain't your'n."

"Mr Neal's," answered I.

"See it is by the brand. But what brings you here from Mr Neal's? It's a

good seventy mile to his plantation, right across the prairie. Ain't

stole the horse, have you?"

"Lost my way--four days--eaten nothing."

These words were all I could articulate. I was too weak to talk.

"Four days without eatin'," cried the man, with a laugh like the

sharpening of a saw, "and that in a Texas prairie, and with islands on

all sides of you! Ha! I see how it is. You're a gentleman--that's plain

enough. I was a sort of one myself once. You thought our Texas prairies

was like the prairies in the States. Ha, ha! And so you didn't know how

to help yourself. Did you see no bees in the air, no strawberries on the

earth?"

"Bees? Strawberries?" repeated I.

"Yes, bees, which live in the hollow trees. Out of twenty trees there's

sure to be one full of honey. So you saw no bees, eh? Perhaps you don't

know the creturs when you see 'em. Ain't altogether so big as wild-geese

or turkeys. But you must know what strawberries are, and that _they_

don't grow upon the trees."

All this was spoken in the same sneering savage manner as before, with

the speaker's head half turned over his shoulder, while his features

were distorted into a contemptuous grin.

"And if I had seen the bees, how was I to get at the honey without an

axe?"

"How did you lose yourself?"

"My mustang--ran away"--

"I see. And you after him. You'd have done better to let him run. But

what d'ye mean to do now?"

"I am weak--sick to death. I wish to get to the nearest house--an

inn--anywhere where men are."

"Where men are," repeated the stranger, with his scornful smile. "Where

men are," he muttered again, taking a few steps on one side.

I was hardly able to turn my head, but there was something strange in

the man's movement that alarmed me; and, making a violent effort, I

changed my position sufficiently to get him in sight again. He had drawn

a long knife from his girdle, which he clutched in one hand, while he

ran the fore finger of the other along its edge. I now for the first

time got a full view of his face, and the impression it made upon me was

any thing but favourable. His countenance was the wildest I had ever

seen; his bloodshot eyes rolled like balls of fire in their sockets;

while his movements and manner were indicative of a violent inward

struggle. He did not stand still for three seconds together, but paced

backwards and forwards with hurried irregular steps, casting wild

glances over his shoulder, his fingers playing all the while with the

knife, with the rapid and objectless movements of a maniac.

I felt convinced that I was the cause of the struggle visibly going on

within him, that my life or death was what he was deciding upon. But in

the state I then was, death had no terror for me. The image of my

mother, sisters, and father, passed before my eyes. I gave one thought

to my peaceful happy home, and then looked upwards and prayed.

The man had walked off to some distance. I turned myself a little more

round, and, as I did so, I caught sight of the sane magnificent

phenomenon which I had met with on the second day of my wanderings. The

colossal live oak rose in all its silvery splendour, at the distance of

a couple of miles. Whilst I was gazing at it, and reflecting on the

strange ill luck that had made me pass within so short a distance of the

river without finding it, I saw my new acquaintance approach a

neighbouring cluster of trees, amongst which he disappeared.

After a short time I again perceived him coming towards me with a slow

and staggering step. As he drew near, I had an opportunity of examining

his whole appearance. He was very tall and lean, but large-boned, and

apparently of great strength. His face, which had not been shaved for

several weeks, was so tanned by sun and weather, that he might have been

taken for an Indian, had not the beard proved his claim to white blood.

But his eyes were what most struck me. There was something so

frightfully wild in their expression, a look of terror and desperation,

like that of a man whom all the furies of hell were hunting and

persecuting. His hair hung in long ragged locks over his forehead,

cheeks, and neck, and round his head was bound a handkerchief, on which

were several stains of a brownish black colour. Spots of the same kind

were visible upon his leathern jacket, breeches, and mocassins; they

were evidently blood stains. His hunting knife, which was nearly two

feet long, with a rude wooden handle, was now replaced in his girdle,

but in its stead he held a Kentucky rifle in his hand.

Although I did my utmost to assume an indifferent countenance, my

features doubtless expressed something of the repugnance and horror with

which the man inspired me. He looked loweringly at me for a moment from

under his shaggy eyebrows.

"You don't seem to like the company you've got into," said he. "Do I

look so very desperate, then? Is it written so plainly on my face?"

"What should there be written upon your face?"

"What? What? Fools and children ask them questions."

"I will ask you none; but as a Christian, as my countryman, I beseech

you"----

"Christian!" interrupted he, with a hollow laugh. "Countryman!" He

struck the but of his rifle hard upon the ground. "That is my

countryman--my only friend!" he continued, as he examined the flint and

lock of his weapon. "That releases from all troubles; that's a true

friend. Pooh! perhaps it'll release you too--put you to rest."

These last words were uttered aside, and musingly.

"Put him to rest, as well as---- Pooh! One more or less--Perhaps it

would drive away that cursed spectre."

All this seemed to be spoken to his rifle.

"Will you swear not to betray me?" cried he to me. "Else, one touch"----

As he spoke, he brought the gun to his shoulder, the muzzle pointed

full at my breast.

I felt no fear. I am sure my pulse did not give a

throb the more for this menace. So deadly weak and helpless as I lay, it

was unnecessary to shoot me. The slightest blow from the but of the

rifle would have driven the last faint spark of life out of my exhausted

body. I looked calmly, indifferently even, into the muzzle of the piece.

"If you can answer it to your God, to your and my judge and creator, do

your will."

My words, which from faintness I could scarcely render audible, had,

nevertheless, a sudden and startling effect upon the man. He trembled

from head to foot, let the but of his gun fall heavily to the ground,

and gazed at me with open mouth and staring eyes.

"This one, too, comes with his God!" muttered he. "God! and your and my

creator--and--judge."

He seemed hardly able to articulate these words, which were uttered by

gasps and efforts, as though something had been choking him.

"His and my--judge"--groaned he again. "Can there be a God, a creator

and judge?"

As he stood thus muttering to himself, his eyes suddenly became fixed,

and his features horribly distorted.

"Do it not!" cried he, in a shrill tone of horror, that rang through my

head. "It will bring no blessin' with it. I am a dead man! God be

merciful to me! My poor wife, my poor children!"

The rifle fell from his hands, and he smote his breast and forehead in a

paroxysm of the wildest fury. It was frightful to behold the

conscience-stricken wretch, stamping madly about, and casting glances of

terror behind him, as though demons had been hunting him down. The foam

flew from his mouth, and I expected each moment to see him fall to the

ground in a fit of epilepsy. Gradually, however, he became more

tranquil.

"D'ye see nothin' in my face?" said he in a hoarse whisper, suddenly

pausing close to where I lay.

"What should I see?"

He came yet nearer.

"Look well at me--_through_ me, if you can. D'ye see nothin' now?"

"I see nothing," replied I.

"Ah! I understand, you can see nothin'. Ain't in a spyin' humour, I

calkilate. No, no, that you ain't. After four days and nights fastin',

one loses the fancy for many things. I've tried it for two days myself.

So, you are weak and faint, eh? But I needn't ask that, I reckon. You

look bad enough. Take another drop of whisky; it'll strengthen you. But

wait till I mix it."

As he spoke, he stepped down to the edge of the river, and scooping up

the water in the hollow of his hand, filled his flask with it. Then

returning to me, he poured a little into my mouth.

Even the bloodthirsty Indian appears less of a savage when engaged in a

compassionate act, and the wild desperado I had fallen in with, seemed

softened and humanized by the service he was rendering me. His voice

sounded less harsh; his manner was calmer and milder.

"You wish to go to an inn?"

"For Heaven's sake, yes. These four days I have tasted nothing but a bit

of tobacco."

"Can you spare a bit of that?"

"All I have."

I handed him my cigar case, and the roll of _dulcissimus_. He snatched

the latter from me, and bit into it with the furious eagerness of a

wolf.

"Ah, the right sort this!" muttered he to himself. "Ah, young man, or

old man--you're an old man, ain't you? How old are you?"

"Two-and-twenty."

He shook his head doubtingly.

"Can hardly believe that. But four days in the prairie, and nothin' to

eat. Well, it may be so. But, stranger, if I had had this bit of tobacco

only ten days ago--A bit of tobacco is worth a deal sometimes. It might

have saved a man's life!"

Again he groaned, and his accents became wild and unnatural.

"I say, stranger!" cried he in a threatening tone. "I say! D'ye see

yonder live oak? D'ye see it? It's the Patriarch, and a finer and

mightier one you won't find in the prairies, I reckon. D'ye see it?"

"I do see it."

"Ah! you see it," cried he fiercely. "And what is it to you? What have

you to do with the Patriarch, or with what lies under it? I reckon you

had best not be too curious that way. If you dare take a step under that

tree."--He swore an oath too horrible to be repeated.

"There's a spectre there," cried he; "a spectre that would fright you to

death. Better keep away."

"I will keep away," replied I. "I never thought of going near it. All I

want is to get to the nearest plantation or inn."

"Ah! true, man--the next inn. I'll show you the way to it. I will."

"You will save my life by so doing," said I, "and I shall be ever

grateful to you as my deliverer."

"Deliverer!" repeated he, with a wild laugh. "Pooh! If you knew what

sort of a deliverer--Pooh! What's the use of savin' a life, when--yet I

will--I will save yours, perhaps the cursed spectre will leave me then.

Will you not? Will you not?" cried he, suddenly changing his scornful

mocking tones to those of entreaty and supplication, and turning his

face in the direction of the live oak. Again his wildness of manner

returned, and his eyes became fixed, as he gazed for some moments at the

gigantic tree. Then darting away, he disappeared among the trees, whence

he had fetched his rifle, and presently emerged again, leading a ready

saddled horse with him. He called to me to mount mine, but seeing that I

was unable even to rise from the ground, he stepped up to me, and with

the greatest ease lifted me into the saddle with one hand, so light had

I become during my long fast. Then taking the end of my lasso, he got

upon his own horse and set off, leading my mustang after him.

We rode on for some time without exchanging a word. My guide kept up a

sort of muttered soliloquy; but as I was full ten paces in his rear, I

could distinguish nothing of what he said. At times he would raise his

rifle to his shoulder then lower it again, and speak to it, sometimes

caressingly, sometimes in anger. More than once he turned his head, and

cast keen searching glances at me, as though to see whether I were

watching him or not.

We had ridden more than an hour, and the strength which the whisky had

given me was fast failing, so that I expected each moment to fall from

my horse, when suddenly I caught sight of a kind of rude hedge, and

almost immediately afterwards the wall of a small blockhouse became

visible. A faint cry of joy escaped me, and I endeavoured, but in vain,

to give my horse the spur. My guide turned round, fixed his wild eyes

upon me, and spoke in a threatening tone.

"You are impatient, man! impatient, I see. You think now, perhaps"----

"I am dying," was all I could utter. In fact, my senses were leaving me

from exhaustion, and I really thought my last hour was come.

"Pooh! dyin'! One don't die so easy. And yet--d----n!--it might be

true."

He sprang off his horse, and was just in time to catch me in his arms as

I fell from the saddle. A few drops of whisky, however, restored me to

consciousness. My guide replaced me upon my mustang, and after passing

through a potato ground, a field of Indian corn, and a small grove of

peach-trees, we found ourselves at the door of the blockhouse.

I was so utterly helpless, that my strange companion was obliged to lift

me off my horse, and carry me into the dwelling. He sat me down upon a

bench, passive and powerless as an infant. Strange to say, however, I

was never better able to observe all that passed around me, than during

the few hours of bodily debility that succeeded my immersion in the

Jacinto. A blow with a reed would have knocked me off my seat, but my

mental faculties, instead of participating in this weakness, seemed

sharpened to an unusual degree of acuteness.