_The people of Greenland――Labrador._
In order to observe some method, in our account of the people of
America, we shall introduce our readers in the first place to the
Greenlanders, for I shall here consider Greenland as belonging to the
American continent. For a long time Greenland was supposed to be
united to this American continent; but it is now ascertained to be a
large island. It lies so near to America, however, on the north-east,
that it is proper to speak of it in this connection.
Greenland is a cold country, and very mountainous. It is quite barren,
except in spots; but the sea is well stored with fish. The country
also abounds with reindeer, foxes, white bears, sea-wolves, sea-dogs
and sea-cows.
The Greenlanders are short in stature, seldom exceeding five feet in
height; but well formed, and rather stout. Their faces are broad and
flat; their eyes, nose, and mouth commonly small; their under lip
sometimes thicker than the upper; they have high breasts and broad
shoulders; their complexion is brown or olive, and their hair
coal-black and long.
When they rise in the morning, they appear thoughtful and dejected,
but in the evening, when their toil is over, they are cheerful and
happy. In general, however, they are not very lively in their temper,
yet good-humored and friendly. When a person dies, they think he goes
to the land of spirits where he spends his time in hunting.
They are very fond of hunting and fishing; and in both they are very
expert. They kill many seals; these furnish them with food. The oil
they use as sauce, and of the blood they make soup. They use the oil
also for lamp light and kitchen fire.
The clothing of the Greenlanders is composed of the skin of the
reindeer, seals, and some kinds of birds, which they sew together with
the sinews of the reindeer, seal, or whale. Their best garments they
keep quite neat; but their ordinary dress abounds in filth and vermin.
Their clothes smell so strong, that an inhabitant of the United States
would be glad to get to the windward of a Greenlander.
The dwellings of the Greenlanders are of two sorts; one for summer,
the other for winter. Their summer habitations are light tents,
constructed with a few poles, covered with seal skins. Their winter
habitations are built of stones, filled in with moss and covered with
turf. The principal apartment is chiefly under ground, and the passage
to it is so low, that it is necessary to creep rather than walk to it.
The Greenland women are very much degraded, and their lives are
toilsome. They act as butchers and cooks; they dress all the skins,
and then make them into garments, boots, shoes, &c. They are even
obliged to build and repair the winter habitations, excepting that the
men assist about the carpenter’s work.
We are sure that our readers would not wish to live in Greenland; yet
the inhabitants of that island think their country the best in the
world. If at any time a Greenlander is carried to a warmer clime, he
longs for his native snows; and, if he cannot hope to return, he
sometimes pines away and dies.
Crossing Davis’ Strait, which is not very wide, we reach that part of
the American continent which is called Labrador. This is the country
of the Esquimaux.
These people resemble the Greenlanders in several important respects.
Like them, they are low in stature, and in complexion are very sallow.
Their beards are thick and bushy; but, unlike the Greenlanders, their
constitutions are feeble. They are a timorous people, and stroke their
breasts in token of peace, when they approach a stranger.
The word Esquimaux, signifies “eaters of raw flesh.” They are very
properly named. They are a rude and miserable race of beings, but some
of them, it is said, have been taught to read the Scriptures. Their
food consists chiefly of fish, with the flesh of the seal and the
reindeer. Their greatest luxury is seal blubber, or oil, which they
devour with as great relish as boys and girls of this country do
sweetmeats.
The dress of these people is made of skins. Men and women dress nearly
alike. The women use no trinkets except beads; but they ornament
themselves by drawing a needle and thread, blackened with soot, under
the skin. This leaves a light blue mark. It is a painful operation;
but they delight so much in this kind of marks, that they sometimes
cover almost their whole body with them.
The Esquimaux have a singular kind of dog, of which they keep large
numbers. In this country, we should think it strange if a dog could
not bark; yet theirs never bark. They make use of them to draw their
sledges and guard their habitations. Sometimes they eat them, and use
their skins for clothing.
Their dwellings in winter resemble caves or holes dug in the earth.
They are rendered very filthy by the large quantities of fat or oil
which are burnt in them, and which are used in cooking. In summer,
they live in tents, much like the Greenlanders.
When Captain Parry made his voyage towards the north pole, a few years
since, he found some Esquimaux people living north of Hudson’s Bay.
These lived in huts, built of frozen snow. They were very talkative,
good-humored and friendly. When they saw anything that pleased them,
some fell to singing and dancing, while others screamed as loud as
they could. Captain Parry’s men gave them some food; but they made up
hideous mouths at it, till, at length, a sailor wet up some dried
bread pounded fine, with train-oil, which they licked up with great
delight. This would be a loathsome dish to some of our readers in the
United States.
These people seem to have no idea of formal religious worship, yet
they believe they shall live after death; and if they are good,
according to their ideas, that they shall go to heaven and be
perfectly happy. Perfect happiness, in their view, no doubt, consists
in having plenty of blubber to eat. Without the light of the Bible,
how degraded mankind are!
――――
“JOHN, your coat is too short.”
“Yes, sir; but it will be long enough before I get another.”
[Illustration]
Bonaparte and the Leg of Mutton.
Some forty years ago, we are told that in England, such was the horror
generally entertained of Bonaparte, that he was not only the fear of
statesmen, but the bug-bear of the nursery and the schoolroom. “If you
do this,” said the schoolma’m, birch in hand, “I’ll send Bony after
you;” and, “if you don’t do that, I’ll do the same thing.” Bony was,
in fact, the great scare-crow,――and many a child grew up under the
impression that he was a sort of secondary evil spirit.
We are told by an English writer, that, at a certain boarding school,
upon one occasion, a leg of mutton was stolen, and, as almost every
evil thing was laid to Bonaparte, the children immediately supposed
that he must be the thief! The writer himself, then a child, fancied
the emperor, with the mutton in his fist, running off with it, and
taking enormous strides in his eagerness to escape.
How many lasting prejudices, how many abiding errors are fixed in the
mind by the inconsiderate threats of those who have the charge of
youth! It is probable that many of the various defects, weaknesses and
eccentricities of character,――those is some cases which are fatal to
success in life,――are caused by the foolish and false modes of
government to which we allude. We hardly know of a more unpardonable
offence than for a person to endeavor to govern a child through fear
of some fictitious evil.
――――
Names of Countries and Places.
The following countries were named by the Phœnicians, the greatest
commercial people of the ancient world. These names, in the Phœnician
language, signify something characteristic of the place which they
designated. _Europe_ signifies a country of white complexions, so
named, because the inhabitants there were of a fairer complexion than
those of Asia and Africa. _Asia_ signifies between, or in the middle,
from the fact that the geographers placed it between Europe and
Africa. _Africa_ signifies the land of corn ears; it was celebrated
for its abundance of corn and all sorts of grain.
_Lydia_ signifies thirsty or dry,――very characteristic of the country.
_Spain_ signifies a country of rabbits or conies; this country was
once so infested with these animals, that Augustus was besought to
destroy them. _Italy_ means a country of pitch; and _Calabria_ has the
same signification, for a similar reason. _Gaul_, modern France,
signifies yellow-haired, as yellow hair characterized its first
inhabitants. _Caledonia_ means a woody region. _Hibernia_ means last
habitation; for, beyond this, westward, the Phœnicians never extended
their voyages.
_Britain_ signifies the country of tin, as there were great quantities
of tin and lead found here and in the adjacent islands. The Greeks
called it _Albion_, which signifies, in the Phœnician tongue, either
white or high mountain, from the whiteness of its shores, or the high
rocks on the western coast. _Corsica_ signifies a woody place, and
_Sardinia_, the footstep of a man, which it resembles. _Rhodes_, means
serpents or dragons, which it produced in abundance. _Sicily_ means
the country of grapes; _Scylla_, the whirlpool, is destruction.
_Syracuse_ signifies bad savor, so called from the unwholesome marsh
upon which it stood. _Ætna_ signifies furnace, or smoke.
――――
Snuff-Taking.
Snuff-taking is an old custom; yet, if we came suddenly upon it in a
foreign country, it would make us split our sides with laughter. A
grave gentleman takes a little casket out of his pocket, puts a finger
and thumb in, brings away a pinch of a sort of powder, and then, with
the most serious air possible, as if he were doing one of the most
important acts of his life――for, even with the most indifferent
snuff-taker, there is a certain look of importance――proceeds to thrust
it into his nose; after which he shakes his head, or his waiscoat, or
his nose itself, or all three, in the style of a man who has done his
duty and satisfied the most serious claims of his well being.
It is curious to see the various ways in which people take snuff. Some
do it by little fits and starts, and get over the thing quickly. There
are epigrammatic snuff-takers, who come to the point as fast as
possible, and to whom the pungency is everything. They generally use a
sharp and severe snuff, a sort of essence of pins’ points. Others are
all urbanity and polished demeanor; they value the style, as well as
the sensation, and offer the box around them as much out of dignity as
benevolence.
Some people take snuff irritably, others bashfully, others in a manner
as dry as the snuff itself; generally with an economy of the
vegetable; others with a luxuriance of gesture, and a lavishness of
supply that announces a more moist article, and sheds its superfluous
honors upon neckcloth and coat. Dr. Johnson was probably a snuff-taker
of this kind. He used to take it out of his waistcoat pocket, instead
of a box.
There is a species of long-armed snuff-takers who perform the
operation in a style of potent and elaborate preparation, ending with
a sudden activity. He puts his head on one side, then stretches forth
his arm with pinch in hand, then brings round his arm as a
snuff-taking elephant might his trunk, and finally shakes snuff, head
and nose together, in a sudden vehemence of convulsion. His eyebrows
are all the time lifted up, as if to make more room for the onset, and
when he has ended, he draws himself up to the perpendicular, and
generally proclaims the victory he has won over the insipidity of the
previous moment, by a snuff and a great “Flah!”
Squirrels.
In the second volume of the Museum, we told some things about
squirrels in general, but did not say anything about the different
kinds particularly, which we will now proceed to do. They are so
interesting a class (or, as the naturalists would say, genus) of
animals, and especially so to children and young persons, that we
think the readers of Merry’s Museum will like to hear more about them.
They have often, I have no doubt, been delighted at seeing their
gambols, and their activity in leaping from tree to tree, and
especially in seeing them eat nuts, sitting on their hinder legs, or
haunches, with their bushy tails turned up over their bodies, and
holding the nuts in their fore-paws, and making a hole through the
shell with their sharp teeth to extract the kernel. It is very amusing
to observe them thus engaged, and very surprising to see how rapidly
they will make a hole through the hardest shelled nut. For this
purpose, without doubt, it is, that He who made the squirrels, and who
is the same glorious Being that created us, has formed their teeth
very strong and very sharp.
There is quite a variety of squirrels that inhabit this country, but
the most common in New England are the Gray Squirrel, the Red
Squirrel, the Ground or Chip Squirrel, and the Flying Squirrel. All
these kinds are frequently to be seen in almost every district, though
the flying squirrel, on account of his habit of stirring about in the
night, and lying still in the day-time, is not so frequently seen.
They are all very beautiful and interesting creatures.
The gray squirrel is the largest of those I have named, and is
frequently hunted for food, as his flesh is very palatable. A
squirrel-hunt, in the fall, is a very common and very exciting
amusement in many places in the country, and, when conducted with as
much regard to humanity as practicable, is, perhaps, not only a
pleasant, but a harmless and proper recreation. It is very apt,
however, to be attended with the wanton slaughter of small birds, and
other instances of unnecessary cruelty. In the newly-settled parts of
the country, these squirrels are sometimes so numerous, that they make
very serious havoc with the corn crop, and, in some cases, almost
entirely destroy it. Its ordinary food, however, consists of nuts of
various kinds, of which, like the other squirrels, it lays up a large
supply for the winter. “This species,” says Godman, in his American
Natural History, “is remarkable among all our squirrels for its beauty
and activity. It is, in captivity, remarkably playful and mischievous,
and is more frequently kept as a pet than any other.” I dare say many
of my young readers have seen one or more of them in a rolling cage,
and, by rapidly running over the bars, making it revolve almost with
the speed of a mill-stone. Its general color is gray, as its name
indicates, and it has a very large, bushy tail, which sometimes hides
almost its whole body.
The red squirrel, or Chickaree, as he is sometimes called in the
Middle States, is the next largest of the four, and is a common and
beautiful animal, often seen on the trees by the road-sides.
Frequently, you will hear a half barking and half twittering noise,
and, looking up, you will see a red squirrel on the limb of a tree, a
few feet above you, from which the sound proceeds. It seems to be a
complaint for your encroachment on his premises, and a kind of warning
to move out of his neighborhood. They frequently come around our
dwellings for fruit and various sorts of food. Several of them now
reside close by my house, and daily come into my woodshed for
butternuts, which my children place there for them, and carry them up
into a pear-tree standing by the side of the shed, and then devour
them. I caught one of them in a box-trap, and kept him in confinement
long enough to make a picture of him, and then set him at liberty, and
he returns as freely as ever. Their food and habits generally are
similar to those of the gray squirrel, though they are much more
familiar, in the wild state, than the other. He is of a reddish brown
color,――whence he takes his name,――and he has a dark stripe along his
side, separating the red color from the white.
The account of the chip, or ground squirrel, and the flying squirrel,
will be given in another number of the Museum.
――――
CONSOLATION IN SEA-SICKNESS.――A lady at sea, full of apprehension in a
gale of wind, cried out, among other exclamations, “We shall go to the
bottom! mercy on us, how my head swims!” “Madam, never fear,” said one
of the sailors; “you can never go to the bottom _while your head
swims_!”
The Blue Jay.
“A blue jay,” says Wilson, “which I have kept for some time, and with
whom I am on terms of familiarity, is a very notable example of
mildness of disposition and sociability of manners. An accident in the
woods first put me in possession of this bird, when in full plumage,
and in high health and spirits. I carried him home with me, and put
him into a cage already occupied by a gold-winged woodpecker, where he
was saluted with such rudeness, and received such a drubbing from the
lord of the manor, for entering his premises, that, to save his life,
I was obliged to take him out again.
“I then put him into another cage, where the only tenant was a female
orchard oriole. She also put on airs of alarm, as if she considered
herself endangered and insulted by the intrusion. The jay, meanwhile,
sat mute and motionless on the bottom of the cage, either dubious of
his own situation, or willing to allow time for the fears of his
neighbor to subside. Accordingly, in a few minutes, after displaying
various threatening gestures, she began to make her approach, but with
great circumspection and readiness for retreat.
Seeing the jay, however, begin to pick up some crumbs of broken
chestnuts, in a humble and peaceable way, she also descended, and
began to do the same; but, at the slightest motion of her new guest,
wheeled round and put herself on the defensive. All this ceremonious
jealousy vanished before evening, and they now roost together, and
feed and play together in perfect harmony and good humor. When the jay
goes to drink, his messmate very impudently jumps into the water to
wash herself, throwing the water in showers over her companion, who
bears it all patiently, and venturing to take a sip now and then
between the splashes, without betraying the smallest token of
irritation. On the contrary, he seems to take pleasure in his little
fellow-prisoner, allowing her to clean his claws from the minute
fragments of chestnuts which happen to adhere to them.”
LINES PLACED OVER A CHIMNEY-PIECE.
Surly Winter, come not here;
Bluster in thy proper sphere:
Howl along the naked plain,
There exert thy joyless reign;
Triumph o’er the withered flower,
The leafless shrub, the ruined bower;
But our cottage come not near;――
Other springs inhabit here,
Other sunshine decks our board
Than the niggard skies afford.
Gloomy winter, hence! away!
Love and fancy scorn thy sway;
Love and joy, and friendly mirth
Shall bless this roof, these walls, this hearth,
The rigor of the year control,
And thaw the winter in the soul.
_Mrs. Barbauld._
――――
A GERMAN gentleman, in the course of a strict cross-examination on a
trial was asked to state the exact age of the defendant.
“Dirty,” (thirty,) was the reply.
“And pray, sir, are you his senior and by how many years?”
“Why, sir, I am dirty-two.”
――――
THE SHOE-BLACK AND HIS DOG.――An English officer of the 44th regiment,
who had occasion, when in Paris, to pass one of the bridges across the
Seine, had his boots, which had been previously well polished, dirtied
by a poodle dog rubbing against them. He, in consequence, went to a
man, who was stationed on the bridge, and had them cleaned. The same
circumstance having occurred more than once, his curiosity was
excited, and he watched the dog. He saw him roll himself in the mud of
the river, and then watch for a person with well-polished boots,
against which he continued to rub himself.
Finding that the shoe-black was the owner of the dog, he taxed him
with the artifice; and, after a little hesitation, he confessed that
he had taught the dog the trick, in order to procure customers for
himself. The officer being much struck with the dog’s sagacity,
purchased him at a high price, and took him to England. He kept him
tied up in London some time, and then released him. He remained with
him a day or two, and then made his escape. A fortnight afterwards, he
was found with his former master, pursuing his old trade on the bridge
in Paris.
――――
ADVERTISEMENT EXTRA.――The following _morceau_ was copied from the
original notice on board the steamboat William Caldwell, which plies
on Lake George. The placard hung directly over the “bocks” containing
the “snaick.”
_A Rattel Snaick too bee Shode._――Thee history off this snaick is as
follors, hee was ketcht on tunn mounting buy a poore man with a large
fammely being sicks yer ould and very wenumous he is now in a bocks
and cant hirt no boddy which is much better than too bee runnin wilde
cause hee don’t want to eat nothun.
Admittance is sickpents for them what pleese to pay it, and thrippents
for them what dont, a libberall reduckshon for fammeliees for more
particklelars pleese to cawl on OLD DICK.
T. N. Take notiss it was the poor man and not the snaick that had a
large fammeley.
――――
PAT-RIOTISM.――W. E. Robinson, Esq., in a speech recently delivered in
Baltimore, said that even the ridicule cast upon Irishmen was
sometimes the highest praise. Thus, the nickname of _Pat_ was a word
of the very best signification. No word beginning with _Pat_, in the
English language, had a bad meaning. _Pat_ent is applied to something
valuable; _Pat_ernal means fatherly or kind; _Pat_riarch, the father
or head of the family; _Pat_rician, a nobleman; _Pat_riot, a lover of
his country; _Pat_rol, one who guards the garrison; _Pat_ron, a
protector and guardian; _Pat_tern, a thing to be copied.
――――
To our Readers.
We regret that we are obliged to omit, this week, the continuation of
Bill Keeler’s story of the Lottery Ticket, as well as some other
articles intended for this number.
We must also defer till another number several interesting letters
from our correspondents.
[Music:] The Snow-Flakes.
WORDS AND MUSIC WRITTEN FOR MERRY’S MUSEUM.
“Gently, gently falls the snow,
Lightly, lightly, soft and slow;
Pretty crystals, tell me why,
Leave thy home in yonder sky?
“All above is pure and true,
Pretty snow-flakes――just like you.
Then why in heaven take thy birth,
Yet seek a home on this dark earth?”
Thus I spoke, and seem’d to hear
A gentle spirit whisper near――
“Though from heaven the snow-flakes fall,
And mix with earth――the fate of all――
“When their winter task is done,
They’ll melt and mingle with the sun;
And, with his beams, in dew-drops rise,
Pure as before, to yonder skies.”
MERRY’S MUSEUM.
Vol. VII. MARCH, 1844. No. 3.
[Illustration (rain storm)]
[Illustration: M]arch――the blusterer――is here! It is a capricious
month, often coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb; to-day
it brings us sleet and tempest,――to-morrow, smiling sunshine and
gentle showers. It appears to be a mixture of all the seasons――winter,
spring, summer and autumn――yet not having the agreeable qualities of
either. It is a sort of Jack-at-all-trades, yet good at none. Of all
the months, it is the least of a favorite.
We are speaking, however, of our New England March; in the sunny
south, it is otherwise. There it is a month of real spring; there it
calls forth the buds and blossoms, and bids nature to assume her
loveliest robes of azure, green and purple. At Charleston, in South
Carolina, the people are regaling themselves with roses, lilacs and
green peas, while we in the Bay State are shivering in the raw,
cutting gales that come from the north-east, and bite as if dipped in
acid. Well, never mind, we must button up our coats close for a few
weeks longer; spring will come at last, and we shall enjoy the
delights of that charming season. Let old Boreas roar, if he will; his
time is nearly out for the season; he is fast retreating to Greenland,
where he will have to stay till December, when we shall welcome him
back, with his ice and snow.
Dick Boldhero.