_Adventures in South America, continued._
[Illustration: A]s evening approached, I found myself quite fatigued,
and my feet almost blistered from the heat of the ground. I was
therefore very glad to see a coffee plantation lying to the right, and
about a mile distant. Thither I went, and applied to some of the
negroes for a night’s lodging, but found, however, that not one of
them could speak a word of English,――Dutch being the only language
with which they were acquainted. Several of them got round me,
chattering like so many magpies.
Finding it impossible to make them understand by words, I resorted to
signs. I suppose I must have been a pretty good mimic, for they seemed
to understand me at once, and burst into the most uproarious fits of
laughter. They finally concluded to take me to their master, whom I
found to be a great stout man, with a swarthy complexion, and a
farmer-like appearance; but he, being a Dutchman, could speak no
English. The negroes, however, interpreted my wishes, and the planter
gave immediate directions to have me taken good care of. I was
accordingly carried off in triumph by my sable friends, who treated me
as well as if I had been an emperor.
I never saw such a merry, kind-hearted set of fellows. They got some
water, and one of them washed my sore feet; another brought me a bowl
of milk, and a third spread my bed. After I had rested for half an
hour, I was called to supper, and took my meal with the planter and
his family. They were all very kind and polite. There was one
black-eyed girl,――the planter’s daughter, as I supposed,――whom I
thought very handsome, but very different from our New England girls.
Her complexion was extremely dark; her hair black as jet, her skin
being quite of an olive color. When her features were at rest, her
countenance was pensive, almost sad; but the moment she spoke, there
was a flash of cheerfulness over her whole countenance. I stole
several glances at her, but being only a poor sailor, I deemed this a
kind of theft, and tried hard not to be detected. I noticed, however,
that the maiden caught me looking at her several times. I expected she
would be angry, but this was far from being the case.
The habitation of the planter was very different from a snug New
England dwelling. In this delicious climate there is a perpetual
summer; no frost, no snow, no blustering Boreas ever comes to chill
the inhabitants, to destroy the vegetation, or interrupt the genial
course of nature. Little is needed for the comfort of the inhabitants,
in respect to a dwelling, but a mere shelter. The planter’s residence
consisted of three or four distinct buildings, of irregular shape and
arrangement. One was of brick, and covered with tiles; the rest were
of wood, and had more the appearance of cattle sheds than human
dwellings. There were no chimneys, and the windows consisted of
openings without glass.
When it came night, I was put into one of these buildings. We ascended
to a second loft by a ladder, and I laid down upon a bed which
consisted of straw. Feeling very weary, I soon fell asleep. I
continued in a sound repose for several hours, when, at last, I awoke
suddenly. It seemed as if I had heard some one whispering to me, and
in a sort of dream, I fancied that it was the black-eyed daughter of
the planter. But when I was fully awake, and rose up in my bed, my
amazement at what I beheld was indescribable.
The moon was shining very brightly, and lighted the large barn-like
apartment in such a manner, that I could see almost every object with
distinctness. Above me, amid the dusky shadows of the room, I beheld a
creature of the most extraordinary aspect. It seemed to have the head
of a rhinoceros, with most enormous ears, the body of a bird, and the
legs of an alligator. It had immense wings, shaped like those of a
bat. To my excited imagination, the creature seemed as big as an ox;
and as I gazed upon it, it seemed to wave its prodigious wings, and
grin at me with a sneering and malicious expression.
[Illustration (bats)]
My first idea was, that it was a mere night-mare; but when I
recollected that I was in a strange country, and moreover remembered
the adventure of the alligator, which had so recently occurred, I
began to conceive that it must be a reality. There is no harm, at
least, thought I, in being prepared for the worst. Accordingly, I
reached out my hand, and seized my cudgel. I then laid down upon my
bed, and keeping my eye fixed upon the grisly apparition, held myself
ready for what might happen. I kept myself perfectly still, and at
last the creature spread its wings and began to make a circuit through
the upper regions of the apartment.
Round and round he went, upon a noiseless wing, and at last began to
make a dip at me. Never shall I forget the sensations of that horrible
moment! The very uncertainty, whether it was a reality, or some grisly
phantom of the brain, seemed to increase my agitation. Could I have
been sure that it was a thing of flesh and blood, I should have been
ready to give it battle. But the doubt, whether it was a being of this
world or another, seemed to freeze my blood. I grasped my cudgel, but
my arm was paralyzed.
Thus I lay for several moments, while the spectre wheeled round and
round, at every evolution, stooping lower and lower, as he came near
the place where I lay. At last he paused in his flight, and hovered
over the foot of my bed. I could distinctly feel his claws upon my
feet, as well as the fanning of his wings, which were kept constantly
in motion. The sensation restored my reason and my strength. I
partially arose in my bed, and struck a furious blow with my cane at
the monster. It took effect, and it fell lifeless to the floor. What
was my surprise, on going to the spot where the creature lay, to
discover that what my excited fancy had exaggerated to the seeming
dimensions of a winged ox, was, in fact, not bigger than a crow! It
was one of the huge bats common to Guiana, and known by the name of
the Vampire. It had no doubt come to see how a little blood drawn out
of a Yankee boy’s great toe would taste. But the fellow was mistaken
in his customer.
I now laid myself down upon my bed but it was in vain that I attempted
to sleep. I lay for several hours, and finding it impossible to
repose, I went to the window and looked forth upon the scene. The moon
was shining with wonderful brightness, and from the eminence on which
the plantation stood, I had a distinct view of the surrounding
country. The river Surinam shone like silver in the distance, the air
was filled with spicy fragrance, and a kind of dazzling light or
silvery mist seemed to be diffused throughout the whole space beneath
the sky. The whole aspect of nature and the objects around me was
strange, yet lovely. There was a balmy softness in the atmosphere, a
kind of twilight splendor over the face of nature, which excited my
admiration, and, at the same time, gave me a sort of pensive and
lonely feeling, at the idea that I was far, very far, from my home.
I remained at the window looking out at the scene for some time. At
last the morning came, and before the sun had risen, I went forth into
the fields. An immense extent of ground, belonging to the plantation,
was covered with coffee trees. These were about ten feet in height,
planted in rows at the distance of about ten feet from each other.
They somewhat resemble the peach tree; but the leaves are longer,
narrower, and highly varnished. These trees, or rather shrubs, are
evergreens, and produce fruit when they are about four years old. They
live to a great age――sometimes a hundred years. They were now covered
with large branches of white blossoms, which gave forth a sweet odor.
The coffee berry grows in a kind of fruit, which is red when ripe, and
has a very beautiful appearance upon the trees.
After looking about the grounds for a short time, I was returning to
the house, when I met the black-eyed daughter of the planter. She bade
me good morning, in English, and, to my joy and surprise, I found that
she knew a few words of that language. We tried to enter into
conversation, but without much success. She asked me my name; and when
I told her it was Dick Boldhero, she manifested much surprise and
interest. She spoke with great earnestness, and seemed to have an
intense desire to know something more. At last, I saw the tears come
down her cheeks, and I felt an emotion which I cannot describe. After
a time, we separated, and having taken breakfast, I bade adieu to the
plantation, and set forward upon my journey.
[To be continued.]
William Ellery Channing.[1]
Dr. Channing was born at Newport, Rhode Island, April 7th, 1780. His
father, William Channing, Esq., an eminent lawyer of Newport, died in
the midst of his vigor, and at the height of his professional success,
when his son William was in his fourteenth year. His mother, was a
daughter of William Ellery, one of the signers of the Declaration of
Independence. She died in Boston, in 1834. His father’s character
doubtless exerted an influence in forming the mind of his son, but the
nearer intimacy, which, in the long period through which his mother
remained the sole possessor of his filial regard, gave her a peculiar
power over him.
Dr. Channing is said to have been remarked in early youth as
singularly pure-minded, devout, earnest, and aspiring――leaving his
friends to anticipate from him great excellence and eminence of
character. He graduated at Cambridge, Mass., in 1798, bearing with him
the highest honors of the institution, and having distinguished
himself for habits of diligence, and for blamelessness of conduct. He
now accepted an invitation to reside a year with a gentleman of
Virginia, as the instructor of his children. Here he doubtless laid
the foundation of that feebleness of constitution which attended him
through life. Here, also, he probably adopted the resolution to devote
himself to the ministry. He pursued his professional studies, partly
with his uncle, Rev. Henry Channing, of New London, Connecticut, and
partly at Cambridge.
Mr. Channing received an invitation to settle over the Church and
Society in Brattle Square, at the same time that he received one from
the Federal Street Church. He chose to accept the latter; his
preference being determined “partly by considerations of health, and
partly by diffidence;” his humility producing a distrust of his own
fitness for the office of a Christian minister, that for a time was
painfully oppressive, and finally led him, in connection with his
health, to choose the less conspicuous and important of the situations
offered him.
[Illustration (Dr. Channing)]
His ordination took place on the 1st of June, 1803. An old copy
of the _Columbian Centinel_ contains the following notice:
“Ordination.――Yesterday was ordained to the pastoral care of the
Church in Federal Street, the Rev. Wm. Ellery Channing. The Rev. Mr.
Holmes introduced the solemnity by prayer. Professor Tappan delivered
the sermon from Eph. iii. 8, 9; the Rev. Dr. Osgood made the ordaining
prayer; the Rev. Henry Channing gave the charge; the Rev. Mr.
Tuckerman expressed the fellowship of the Church; and the Rev. Dr.
Eckley made the concluding prayer. The ceremonial was conducted, and
the services performed, with a solemnity and fervor suited to the
occasion.”
Mr. Channing was appointed Dexter Lecturer on Biblical Criticism in
Harvard University, in 1812, but his health did not allow him to
prepare a course of lectures, and he resigned the appointment the next
year. In 1813 he was elected a member of the Corporation, at which
board he retained a seat till 1826. The University conferred on him
the honorary degree of D. D. in 1820.
Dr. Channing first appeared as a controversial writer in 1815, when he
addressed his letter to Rev. S. C. Thatcher, “on the aspersions
contained in a late number of the Panoplist, of the ministers of
Boston and the vicinity.” This led to a public correspondence between
him and the Rev. Dr. Worcester, of Salem. In 1819 he preached the
sermon at the ordination of Mr. Sparks, at Baltimore, which produced
the letters of Professor Stuart, and of Drs. Wood and Ware. In this
sermon he took that position in behalf of Unitarianism, which he
defended in many subsequent discourses, on public occasions, and in
his own pulpit.
Dr. Channing being very feeble, embarked for Europe, in May, 1822, and
returned home in August, 1823. During his absence, he visited Great
Britain, France, Switzerland, and Italy. In the autumn of 1830 he was
again compelled, by his state of health, to leave the United States,
and passed the winter of 1830-31 in St. Croix. One or two subsequent
winters he spent in Philadelphia.
He probably derived permanent benefit from this absence to Europe, but
still there was such an habitual want of vigor in his system, that,
soon after his return, he desired an assistant in his ministry; and a
colleague was settled in 1824. From this time he continued to
officiate in the pulpit, with more or less frequency, as his strength
permitted, till 1840, when he requested the society to release him
from all obligation of professional service, though he desired to
retain the pastoral connexion towards them. As his mind was relieved
from the pressure of ministerial engagements, his attention was more
and more given to the aspects which society, in its opinions, usages,
and institutions, presents to the Christian philanthropist. He was
led, by his interest in these subjects, to communicate to the public,
at different times, his thoughts on questions of immediate urgency,
involving high moral considerations, and devoted a large part of his
time to an examination of the light which Christianity throws upon
practical ethics.
Dr. Channing’s residence was in Boston, but for several years he had
been accustomed to spend the summer in the country, amidst those
influences of nature which he esteemed as even more grateful in their
effects upon the mind than on the body. He chose his residence for the
season of 1842, among the mountains that traverse the western section
of Massachusetts, in whose beautiful seclusion he found a high degree
of enjoyment, and a firmer tone of health than he had possessed for a
long time. On his journey homeward, by way of Vermont, he was exposed
to a temperature unusual at the season, and too severe for him to
encounter with impunity, which produced an access of disease, that
prevented his proceeding beyond Bennington. Here his illness steadily
advanced till it overpowered the vital energy; and what at first were
the slight apprehensions of his friends, were converted into anxious
fears, that only gave place to the sorrows of bereavement. He observed
the progress of his disease with the calmness that was habitual with
him in every situation; expressed a sense of the Divine love even
beyond what he had before felt, and manifested that exquisite
tenderness of affection, which gave such beauty to his private life.
Dr. Channing’s illness extended over twenty-six days. As is usual in
autumnal fevers, the action of the brain was increased, and the mind
was crowded with subjects and images, which at times occasioned him
distress, as depriving him of that control over his thoughts, which in
health, and under previous attacks of disease, he habitually
exercised. The nature of his complaint, also, made it necessary to
avoid the excitement of the pulse inevitable upon conversation, and he
therefore, as well as those about him, abstained from long-continued
discourse. Still he said much that can never be forgotten; and the
beautiful serenity, and the perfect trust which he exhibited, made the
apartment in which he lay waiting for death, a place of holy
instruction, and peaceful sympathies. He expressed a wish to die at
home, but yielded himself wholly to the Divine will. His bodily
suffering was at no time extreme. Towards the close of the disease
there was an oppression on the chest, and he sank rapidly. He died at
half past five o’clock, on Sunday, October 2, 1820.
――――
CHINESE INGENUITY.――The ingenuity of the Chinese is too often
exercised for the purpose of fraud. Sometimes you will buy a capon, as
you may think, of a Chinese, but find you have only the skin of the
bird, which has been so ingeniously filled, that the deception is not
discovered until it is prepared for being dressed.
They also make counterfeit hams. These are made of pieces of wood, cut
in the form of a ham, and coated over with a certain kind of earth,
which is covered with hog’s skin; and the whole is so ingeniously
prepared, that a knife is necessary to detect the fraud.
A gentleman travelling in China some few years ago, bought some
chickens, the feathers of which were curiously curled. In a few days,
he observed the feathers straight, and that the chickens were of the
most common sort. The man who sold them had curled the feathers of the
whole brood, a little while before he sold them.
――――
EFFECT OF CLIMATE AND CULTIVATION ON VEGETABLES.――The myrtle-tree,
which with us is a small shrub, grows in Van Dieman’s Land to the
height of two hundred feet, and has a trunk from thirty to forty feet
in circumference. The wood resembles cedar.
[Illustration (walrus)]
The Morse.
There is only one species of this remarkable animal, yet the
singularity of its appearance has procured for it a variety of names,
as the Walrus, the Sea-Cow, the Sea-Horse, &c. The only animal which
it resembles is the Seal. It has two large tusks growing out of the
upper jaw, directed downwards. From the high latitudes to which the
Morse is chiefly confined, there has been but little ascertained
respecting it. It is not even known with certainty upon what it feeds.
Some suppose its food to be entirely animal; whilst others have
represented it as feeding upon sea-weed. It is probable, however, that
it may turn over the sea-weed with its long tusks, to dislodge the
animals upon which it feeds, from the rocks.
The Morse is sometimes found eighteen feet long, with tusks about two
feet in length. Its general color is brown. It is a social animal, and
resorts in great numbers to favorite places on the far northern coast,
where it lies on rocks and icebergs, till hunger compels it to resort
to the water for food. It is not active on land, but its tusks enable
it to climb up high banks with facility.
The Morse is esteemed for the oil which it affords. Their tusks also
are very valuable. They are hunted for these articles, the ivory being
harder and whiter than that of the elephant. When one of these animals
is encountered on the ice, or in the water, the hunter strikes him
with a strong harpoon made expressly for this purpose. The animal is
then drawn to the nearest flat iceberg. They then flay him, separate
the two tusks from the head, cut out the fat, and carry it to the
vessel. A morse will furnish half a ton of oil.
[Illustration (girl feeding poultry)]
Inquisitive Jack.