finding my uncle, but we were all at Farmer Moreland’s. They tried then
to find some one who could erect a shed over the poor woman, but it was
a holyday no labourers were at work; and the steward, who was the only
person they found, had received orders not to leave the yards all day,
because many idle people might be about. He told Wentworth he could
easily supply materials for a shed, if there was any one to build it.
Wentworth and Frederick looked at each other for a moment, and then both
said together--“Let us do it ourselves, and give up the ride.” Each had
been afraid of disappointing his brother by the proposal, but they
agreed to it with equal good-will, and set about their new occupation so
earnestly, that in a quarter of an hour the garden ass-cart was loaded
with straw and stakes, and the necessary tools. Before they went away,
they applied to my aunt’s housekeeper for bread and medicine; and she
very good naturedly went herself to see what state the woman was in, and
what could be done for her. She afterwards told my aunt that it was “a
beautiful sight to see the kindness of the young gentlemen, just as
careful, ma’am, not to disturb the sick beggar woman as if she was a
lady, and they so happy, ma’am, and never seeming to cast a thought
about their ride.” While they were at work, the housekeeper learned the
history of the unfortunate creature; she thinks her dangerously ill, and
has therefore procured a careful old woman to take care of her.
My cousins not being very expert in driving stakes into the ground, or
in fastening on thatch, it was nearly dark when they reached home. We
had long returned from our walk, and had been listening to the history
the housekeeper gave. My aunt and uncle were very much pleased at
hearing of the benevolence and the decision with which Wentworth and
Frederick had acted; and they determined not to interfere with them till
their task was completed.
The story of the poor woman can be told in a few words. When very young,
only sixteen, she was tempted to leave her father’s cottage, and to go
off secretly with an idle wandering man, belonging to a party of
gipsies, to whom she was afterwards married. Her husband had lately
grown very unkind, and last week he forsook her entirely. She heard that
he had come to the forest of Deane, and without waiting to make further
inquiry, she took her little son, and set off in search of her wicked
husband. Her parents are dead, and she has no friends but the gipsies,
among whom she has lived for several years; she says they are bad people
indeed, and to leave her boy with them would be his ruin. Her only
anxiety is about him; were she sure of his being in safe hands, she says
she has no longer any wish to live.
The housekeeper inquired the name of the child; but his mother
acknowledged that he had never been christened, as the people she was
with did not attend to those kind of things. He has generally been
called _Quick-finger_ amongst them, because he was so clever at little
thefts; but she had intended, she says, to have had him baptized, and to
call him Charley, after her own father. She then fell into an agony of
grief at the remembrance of her father and the time when she was happy
and innocent, as well as at the wickedness her poor little boy has
already been taught.
_Dec. 28th._--During our passage from Brazil, Captain M. lent me one of
your old favourites, Anson’s Voyage; and, next to Robinson Crusoe, it
interested me more than any thing of that kind I ever read. You may
guess then with what pleasure I have been looking over the account of a
late visit to Juan Fernandez by Mr. Scouler, who was employed by the
Hudson’s Bay Company to examine the natural history of the north-west
coast of America. I think two or three little extracts will amuse you;
and I must tell you, by the way, that Mr. Scouler seems to feel great
admiration for _our_ city of Rio, and the bay, and the view from the
Corcovado, and all our beautiful plants, birds, and insects.
“_Dec. 14, 1824._--The island of Juan Fernandez was approached with
equal interest by every one in the vessel, but with different feelings;
as classic ground by the seamen, and as a new field for research by the
naturalist.
“We landed at a small bay at the northern extremity of the island. The
level land near the coast had more resemblance to a European corn-field,
than to a desolate valley in the Pacific Ocean, being entirely overgrown
with oats, interspersed in different places with wild carrots. On
penetrating through the corn-fields, we discovered a small cavern,
excavated in the decomposing rock, and bearing evident traces of having
been recently inhabited. A kind of substitute for a lamp hung from the
roof, and the quantity of bones scattered about, shewed there was no
scarcity of provisions. Near this, a natural arch, about seven feet
high, opened into a small bay, bounded on all sides by steep
perpendicular rocks, which afforded an inaccessible retreat to
multitudes of sea birds.
“The next day, on approaching the landing place in Cumberland Bay, we
were surprised by the appearance of smoke rising among the trees; and we
had the pleasure of finding an Englishman there. When he first saw our
boat, he was afraid it belonged to a Spanish privateer, and had
concealed himself in the woods, as they had formerly destroyed his
little establishment. He belonged to a party of English and Chilians,
employed in sending the skins of cattle, which are now plentiful, to
Chili. We were delighted with the beautiful situation where they had
fixed their dwelling; close to a fine stream, and surrounded by a
shrubbery of _Fuchsia_, mixed with peach and apple-trees, pears, figs,
vines, and strawberries, rue, mint, radish, and Indian cress, besides
oats, were all growing in the greatest profusion; and the sea abounded
with fish.
“Our new friend had a little collection of English books; and one piece
of furniture, which seemed particularly valuable,--an old iron pot,
though without a bottom; but he had fitted a wooden one to it, and when
he had occasion to boil any thing, he plunged the pot into the earth,
and kindled a fire round its sides.
“We made an excursion to the interior, and found many beautiful plants
and shrubs. The dry soil was covered by an evergreen _arbutus_, and a
shrubby _campanula_, and every sheltered rock afforded a different
species of fern, the greatest vegetable ornament of the island. We
refreshed ourselves with strawberries, which were small and pale, but of
a very agreeable flavour; and the vine plants were loaded with grapes;
they were still unripe.”
I am quite disappointed at Mr. Scouler’s not mentioning the myrtle trees
described in Anson’s Voyage, that tall wood of myrtles that screened the
lawn where the commodore had pitched his tent; and which, sweeping round
it, in the form of a theatre, extended up to the rising ground. I should
like to have known what species of myrtle produced timber of forty feet
in length. But above all, I felt disappointed at his account of the
cavern; I was thinking of Alexander Selkirk, and could not help hoping
that it was to prove the very one in which he had lived; or perhaps that
some other romantic Selkirk was then its solitary master, instead of
those Chilian cattle-killers.
_29th._--There was a long conversation to-day on corals, corallines, and
particularly on the formation of islands of that substance, which seems
to take place so rapidly in some parts of the world.
Mr. Salt, the traveller, says that the islands in the Bay of Amphila are
composed entirely of marine remains, strongly cemented together, and now
forming solid masses; the surface of which is covered by only a thin
layer of soil. These marine remains are chiefly corallines, madrepores,
and a great variety of sea-shells, of species still existing in the Red
Sea. Some of the islands are thirty feet above high-water mark; a
circumstance which, he says, makes it difficult to account for the
process of their formation. When a pillar of coral rises to the surface
of the sea, birds, of course, resort to it; the decay of fish-bones, and
other remains of their food in time produces a soil, which is followed
by vegetation, and then it quickly assumes the appearance of a little
island, covered with a solid stratum of earth. But in the present case,
large pieces of madrepore are found, disposed in regular layers, far
above the sea; and for this no satisfactory reason can be assigned, he
says, except that the sea must have retired since they were so
deposited; for this tribe of animals cannot work in the air.
There is nothing more curious, my uncle observed, than the changes
produced on the face of the globe by the operations of the coral worm,
a little creature so small as to be scarcely visible. New islands, he
says, produced by its means, are continually rising out of the sea, and
old ones are becoming united to others, or to the continent. In reading
about something else, I met with a singular instance of this, in the
account of Saugor Island, and Edmonstone’s Isle, in the Bay of Bengal,
Edmonstone’s Isle appeared so lately as 1818; it is already two miles
long, and half a mile broad, and the channel between the two islands is
so shallow, that, in a few years, they will probably be joined together.
Vegetation had commenced immediately on the most central and elevated
part; saltwort, with one or two other plants, had given it a verdant
tint, and by daily binding the shifting sand, were contributing to form
the basis of a more durable soil.
Coral was formerly thought to be a vegetable, and even the celebrated
Tournefort considered it to be a marine moss; but it is now known to be
the production of a race of animals, of which it seems as much a part as
the shell is of the snail. Most of the islands in the South Sea are
coral rocks covered with earth. My uncle says that late voyagers have
asserted that the bays and harbours of many of these islands have been
observed to be gradually closing up, by the progress of these
extraordinary creatures; and that it may therefore be supposed that
these separate islands will in time be connected, and actually become a
continent!
He told us, that M. de Peysonnel, of Marseilles, was the first who
proved by experiment the animal nature of the coral; and shewed, that
those bodies which former naturalists had mistaken for flowers, were, in
fact, the insects that inhabited the coral. When the branches were taken
out of the water, these supposed flowers, which proceeded from a number
of white points in the bark, withdrew and disappeared; and when the
branch was restored to the water, they were again perceptible. The white
specks he proved to be holes in the outer surface, or bark, and
corresponding with a series of cavities within; and secondly, he shewed
that from these holes a milky fluid issued, which was an animal juice,
and must, therefore, have proceeded from an insect. By immersing coral
in strong vinegar, he could dissolve the calcareous bark to a certain
depth, so as to shew the tubular structure of the interior uninjured.
Carbonate of lime, my uncle says, is the principal part of the substance
of the whole tribe of corals and corallines; but where these minute
insects, or rather _polypi_, obtain that material, or how they can
decompose such an extraordinary quantity of it from sea-water, is one of
those secrets of nature which philosophers have not yet discovered,
although it is constantly in operation, and on an immense scale.
_31st._--Frederick read to us, this evening, some of De Capell Brooke’s
travels; and I ran away with the book afterwards, to copy for you this
account of the cataract of Trallhätta, in Norway, which must be a
singular scene.
“The whole water of the Gotha tumbles with fearful roarings down the
rocky declivities, and in its descent forms four principal falls, the
perpendicular height of which, taken together, is 110 feet. Yet the
navigation is not obstructed; for locks with sluices, like those on
navigable canals, have been cut in the solid rock, with incredible pains
and labour; through them, vessels can be lowered to the level of the
river below the falls, preserving their course with ease; and affording
a strong instance of the power and ingenuity of man.”
In conversing about Norway, my uncle said, he thought the ingenuity
displayed by the Norwegian peasantry was surprising. Living remote from
towns, and scattered among their mountains, they become independent of
assistance. The same man is frequently his own tailor, shoemaker, and
carpenter, and sometimes even his own clock and watch maker. Most of
them are very expert at carving, and the beautiful whiteness of their
fir wood furnishes them with very pretty ornaments for their cottages.
They work neatly in silver, brass, and other metals; and there are few
things for the purchase of which they are obliged to have recourse to
the distant towns.
Their methods of brewing and baking are very simple. The first consists
in a simple infusion of barley, which, with the young shoots of juniper,
produces a weak but pleasant beverage.--In making their _flad bröd_, or
flat bread, they mix rye-flour with water, and when the dough is well
kneaded, roll it out like a pancake, but not thicker than a wafer. As
fast as they are made they are placed on a gridiron, and one minute
bakes them. Prepared in this way, the rye loses its coarse taste, and
the bread is agreeable.
You will not, probably, be inclined to imitate them, but I am sure you
will admire the ingenuity of these people in the manner they employ the
black ants to make vinegar. These creatures have gigantic habitations,
which, in size and appearance, are not very unlike the _gamme_, or hut,
of the coast Laplanders. The ant hills are five feet in height; and are
composed of decayed wood, pine-leaves, and bark, mixed up with earth and
strengthened by bits of branches, which must require the efforts of a
vast number to move. Streets and alleys branch off in every direction
from the main entrance, which is a foot wide; and outside, millions of
the little negroes, as they are called, may be seen bustling along
heavily laden. But now for the vinegar: a bottle half full of water is
plunged to the neck in one of these hills; the ants speedily creep in,
and are, of course, drowned; the contents are then boiled, and a strong
acid is produced, which is used for vinegar by all the inhabitants of
Norlanden.
_January 1, Sunday._--My uncle read to us the “Song of Moses,” after the
escape of the Israelites from Pharaoh and his host. He then said; as
nearly as I can recollect, “This beautiful composition is not only a
thanksgiving for their memorable deliverance, but it contains also
precise prophecies of the downfal of the nations of Palestine, with the
settlement of the Israelites in their room; and of the establishment of
the temple on Mount Zion, with the ultimate destruction of all idolatry.
“It is the most ancient poem now extant, and shews the early connexion
which subsisted between poetry and religion: it is also a fine example
of that species of composition in which the Hebrews excelled; namely,
that of expressing in hymns of triumph their gratitude to God for his
glorious protection.
“‘The mountain of thine inheritance’ alludes to Mount Moriah, or Sion,
where Moses knew that God would fix his sanctuary; and which is
prophetically spoken of here as already completed.
“The whole army seem to have joined with one voice in this song; and
Miriam and all the women re-echoed it with equal rapture; yet while
almost in the very act of expressing their gratitude, this capricious
people began to murmur because there was a scarcity of water in the
wilderness through which it was necessary to pass; and, because when
they did come to a spring, the water was bitter. What a beginning for
the new life on which they were entering! Let us act more wisely, my
dear children; and, grateful for the blessings of the past, let us
endeavour to deserve their continuance through the new year on which we
are entering.”
We endeavoured to trace the march of the Israelites, on the map. My
uncle shewed us that the wilderness of Shur was a part of that great
sandy desert which divides Egypt from Palestine; and which stretches
from the Mediterranean to the head of the Red Sea on both sides. It is
supposed by the late celebrated traveller Burckhardt, that the place
called Marah, from the bitterness of its water, is the present Howara.
Its distance from the Red Sea corresponds with the three days’ march of
the Israelites; and there is a well there, of which he says, “the water
is so bitter, that men cannot drink it; and even camels, if not very
thirsty, refuse to taste it.” Irwin, another traveller, says that in
travelling 315 miles in this desert, he met with only four springs of
water.
My uncle says, that Moses does not mention every place where the
Israelites encamped between the Red Sea and Mount Sinai, but those only
where something remarkable occurred. Elim, with its refreshing wells and
shady palm trees, must have been delightful in comparison with the
desert they had passed. Dr. Shaw, who visited that country the beginning
of last century, found nine of the twelve wells described in Exodus; the
other three had been probably filled up by those drifts of sand which
are so common in Arabia. But the palm trees alluded to by Moses had
increased amazingly, for, instead of threescore and ten, there were then
above two thousand. Under the shade of these trees he was shewn the
_Hammam Mousa_, or the Bath of Moses, for which the inhabitants have an
extraordinary veneration, as they pretend it was the exact spot where he
and his family encamped. From this place the Doctor could plainly see
Mount Sinai, or, as it is called in some parts of the Bible, Mount
Horeb. This seems to have been the general name of the whole mountain,
while Sinai was appropriated to the summit, which had three distinct
elevations: on the western one, God appeared to Moses in the bush; the
middle one, which is the highest, is that on which God gave the law to
Moses, and is still called Gebel Mousa, or the Mount of Moses; and the
third and most easterly is called St. Catherine’s Mount, from the
monastery which has been erected there.
_2d._--The poor wandering gipsy died in a very few days; and my aunt
immediately put her son under the care of the Franklins and the old
blind man. Charley is an intelligent little fellow, but will require
great care and attention; he speaks a sort of incomprehensible
gibberish, and understands but little of what is said to him. The
housekeeper asserts that nothing can civilize those gipsies, however
early they are taken in hand; but my aunt will try what mildness and
steadiness can effect: she has desired him to be treated very gently,
and his faults rather overlooked, till he can be made to understand the
value of a good character. My uncle has written about him to some of his
mother’s relations; but unless they are capable of taking care of him he
will not abandon the child. Mary and Caroline have bought some clothes
for him, and as just now I have no pocket money, not having managed my
last quarter well, I begged to be allowed to contribute time and work.
What an extraordinary thing it is, that these odd people, the Gipsies,
should have been wandering in the same unsettled manner about the world
for three centuries; and always the same dishonest impostors. My aunt
shewed us a passage in Clarke’s Travels, about the gipsies of
Wallachia--where he says, though they are as well inclined to steal as
the rest of their tribe, they are certainly of a more civilised nature.
They are divided there into different classes: some are domestics, and
are employed in the principal houses; others work as gold finers and
washers; some travel about as itinerant smiths; some as strolling
musicians, and others are dealers in cattle. They are skilful in finding
gold, and smelt it into small ingots; using for that purpose little low
furnaces, which they blow by a portable bellows made of a buckskin. The
construction of the bellows is very simple; an iron tube being tied into
the neck of the skin which is sewn up, and two wooden handles are
fastened to the legs, by which it is worked.
I was very curious to know what could be the origin of these people--and
why they have been always wandering about. My uncle told me, that ever
since the beginning of the fifteenth century, when they were first
noticed in Europe, the general idea has been, that they were Egyptians.
It is said, that when Egypt was conquered by the Turks, several of the
natives refusing to submit, revolted under one Zinganeus, and afterwards
dispersed in small parties all over the world.--From their supposed
skill in magic, they were well received; and being joined by idlers in
every country, they became so troublesome, that measures were taken to
expel them from England, France, and Spain. It is a remarkable
coincidence, my uncle says, that in Turkey, the gipsies are called
Tcheeganes; in Italy, Zingari; and in Germany, Zigeuner; all which seem
to be derived from the name of their first leader in Egypt: but, on the
other hand, they are sometimes found wandering about in that country,
apparently a distinct race from the natives, and without the least
affinity to them in features, customs, or language.
Attempts have been made to prove that they have come from India; and it
is said, that near the mouth of the Indus there is a people called
Zinganès. A learned German also has traced several points of resemblance
between the common language of the gipsies, and the dialect of a
district in Hindostan; for instance, all words ending in _j_ are
feminine in both languages, and both add the article to the end of the
word.
These extraordinary creatures, my uncle added, may be found in every
country, from the western extremity of Europe to the easternmost parts
of Siberia; and in all, preserve their wild strolling habits, their
filthy modes of eating, their pretended power of fortune telling, their
expertness in petty thefts, and their love of intoxication.--In each
country too, they elect a chief, whom they dignify by some high-sounding
title, such as king, count, or lord, though never very obedient to his
will; and as one set off against their numerous vices, they are
generally extremely fond of their children.
_3rd._--Mrs. P. has been here now for several days, which have been
happy days to all, for she is so pleasing and gentle, and so mild, that
all like her.
She told me yesterday one thing, which, though it may look like vanity
to repeat, yet I know will gratify you so much, my own dear mamma, that
I cannot conceal it. She says, that she thinks me improved in many
respects in the few months that have passed since I left her. “Very much
in your manner and carriage; and above all,” she added, “you seem to
have lost the appearance of indolence that you had. I am rejoiced to see
that you have acquired that power of exertion, which is so useful both
to young and old--and that you have the will, as well as the power, to
conquer little habits that are disagreeable to your friends. I know,”
said she, “you will excuse me for saying this; for I feel a real
interest in your welfare, and I have myself suffered so much from a
foolish indifference to the opinion of others about what I considered
_trifles_, that I am always pleased when I see young people endeavour
to avoid the rock on which I split.”
I could not help shewing some surprise at this, for I thought it very
unlike her character; and though I did not venture to express any
curiosity, I suppose she saw a little in my countenance, for after some
more conversation she said, that she would give me a little sketch of
her life, because she thought I might derive some advantage from it.
We had not time to begin then--but I hope we shall to-morrow. In the
mean time I must not forget to tell you, lest you should think I had
lost all honourable principle, that I immediately informed Mrs. P. of
the kind of journal which I send to you--and asked her permission to
relate to you what she tells me; “but,” said I, “if you disapprove, I
will not mention it.” She replied, “you are perfectly welcome to tell
her every thing--for I very much disapprove of any confidence being made
to a young person that is to be concealed from her mother.”