We’ll form their minds, with studious care,To all that’s manly, good, and fair.
We’ll form their minds, with studious care,To all that’s manly, good, and fair.
We’ll form their minds, with studious care,To all that’s manly, good, and fair.
“I gladly consented, and was so fortunate as to procure this farm at a reasonable rent, and with a comfortable cottage. My creditors saw that my intentions towards them were honourable; and satisfied with the assignment of my little patrimony, they insisted on my retaining my books, and such furniture as could be useful. We soon removed; and firmly resolved to submit to any distress, however abject, rather than get into debt. I may now acknowledge that our distress was sometimes severe, while learning the little details of economy. The art of good management, if not acquired in youth, can only be gained by bitter experience. You will perceive, then, that I became a real hard-working, drudging farmer; and you will wonder, probably, how we could get on, when I had such an ignorant wife.—My dear sir, I cannot do her sufficient justice—I cannot describe the strength of mind with which she cheerfully submitted to the change of life, nor the energy with which she sought the common knowledge requisite for our situation. She had proposed this life of labour, and she almost seemed to enjoy it, and to find a pleasure in her continual exertions. For some years wecould only have one servant, a poor hard-working, willing creature, who, though doing her best, could not do half that was necessary for our family. But this best of wives, instead of unreasonably expecting every thing from one poor slave, as I might almost call her, worked hard herself. She who had been used to late hours, and luxurious ease, was up at six every morning, to superintend her little household, and to make with her own hands most of the preparations for our meals. She was the same in every thing, and never uttered a complaint.
“Oh! how often in these years of distress, when every shilling we could spare was devoted to discharging old debts—did I think of the sums I had lavished in my days of gaiety—on useless trifles—those trifles that are well named ‘’tis buts’—on dress—on all those indulgences of appetite which leave no pleasure behind; and the taste for which I can distinctly trace back to the habits of petty self-indulgence permitted at our great schools.
“The first winter of our residence here was one of such hardship, that I trembled for my wife’s health; but Providence graciously supported her. It was at that time that a circumstance occurred, which I think will interest you. We had an infant, of a few months old, who suffered much, by the anxiety that my wife, who was nursing it, secretly felt,—the poor babe sunk.—Its decline was rapid; and before we were aware of the danger, we found that it was actually dying. It was on a dreadful evening of snow and storm, that we sat watching over our expiring babe. One candle lighted our little room, and, cold as the weather was, we could only afford a small fire; my three elder children were gathered close round it; and one began so mildly, but urgently, to ask for her supper,—that a piece of bread was given to her. We heard a violent knocking at the door, and the maid having opened it before I could go myself, two men rudely pushed by her, and forced their way into the room where we sat.—You may imagine the indignation and horror I felt at such an intrusion, and at such a moment.—I asked, as calmly as I could, their business, and one of them said—‘Our business, sir, is to demand assistance;—you may call it charity if you like, but as we are driven by want of work to starve, we must take by force what is not willingly given to us; my children have not a crust to eat, and I am resolved to procure something for them; this is the first time we have ever attempted to get by force what we would willingly earn by our labour.’
“‘My friends,’ said I, ‘I am a stranger here, and in distress myself—misfortunes have reduced me as well as you—and the whole sum that I am at present possessed of, will scarcely do more than pay for the funeral of the infant whom yousee dying.—I will give you a part of it;—if you take it all by force, I cannot resist you. All I can do is to advise you not to enter on this lawless life—why do you not apply to the clergyman of the parish?—try every honest means before you attempt to live by violence—but if once you stain your character, nothing can restore it.—Return to your homes—I promise never to betray you, unless you renew such conduct—take this money—and perhaps to-morrow may bring you employment or assistance.’—‘And here,’ said my little girl, ‘here, take this bread to your little children, it was my supper—but I can do without it.’
“The man was touched by this action of the child,—his voice faultered as he thanked me for the small sum I had put into his hand, and with his companion went away quietly. They followed my advice, and applied next day to the village pastor, who had but lately returned from an absence occasioned by ill health; and who as yet had known nothing about me. He soon found his way to our cottage—sympathized with equal delicacy and kindness in our affliction, and requested as a favour, the permission of sometimes visiting us. The friendship of Mr. Benson, who is an example of the virtues and graces of piety and benevolence blended together, has been our greatest source of pleasure ever since the sad occasion of his visit; and I may say, that I owedit to the gratitude of the poor mistaken men whom I had rescued from guilt. I found that they were Irishmen; and that they had been driven as vagrants from parish to parish. I soon had it in my power to procure them work, and their warm hearts do, I believe, feel endless gratitude.
“As my eldest boy was a very promising child in disposition and intellect, my good friend Mr. Benson made it a point, that he should be allowed to assist in his education; he has completely prepared him for the university, and through some interest which he possesses, he was so kind as to place him there a few months since, at a very trifling expense to me. Through him, also, another happy circumstance occurred to me two or three years ago;—a connection of Mr. Benson’s, who had lately come into possession of an estate in this neighbourhood, having met me at the parsonage, requested me to be his agent; giving me full powers to plant, improve, and superintend the management of the whole property. This to me is a most interesting employment; and as I give full time and attention to it, I consider my salary to be fairly and honourably earned.
“Amidst all her laborious vocations, my wife continued to educate our daughters. Her main object has been to give them religious principles, and that solid kind of knowledge, which a well-taught female should possess.She has made them, as I hope you will find, gentlewomen in their manners, but industrious and independent; and she has, I think, inspired them with her own neatness and love of order, which never ceased, even when our distress might have been some excuse for negligence. We had, as I mentioned, preserved our books, and with these, and the aid of her own admirable talents, she has formed their minds, and I may say, their hearts; for she has taught them to love being useful, and never to turn from a poor applicant under the selfish plea of their own poverty, or the specious one of public duty.
“We have gradually made our cottage larger: clean, neat, and cheerful, it always was; but now it is really comfortable. Here I wish always to remain—it has been the scene of happiness, springing from active exertion, and humble religious trust.”
10th.—My uncle had a visit to-day from a Mr. H——, who is just returned from Stockholm, where he has been for some months. He told us a great deal of the manners and customs of that city; and it is curious to observe, how exactly its present state agrees with the account given by Dr. Clarke, who says, “that if a razor was to be put in order, or an instrument repaired, they were sent to London; and that such was the scarcity of vegetables, that there was a constant importation of them from other countries.” When he was at Stockholm, there were thirty-six wig-makers, and only one cutler—forty-seven vintners, and not a single chimney sweeper—nineteen coffee-roasters, though coffee had been prohibited—one hundred and thirteen keepers of ordinaries, and only one tool grinder; iron and tar were to be had in plenty, but there was nothing good manufactured in the country, excepting Scania gloves, which are the best in the world. Almost every thing imported from England was contraband, and, therefore, clandestinely sold, at an immense price. The inferiority of Swedish workmanship, and often the total want of the article itself, is very striking—a whole day may be lost in searching for common necessaries.
When Clarke was at Christiana, in Norway, a rich merchant told him, that all the linen of his family was annually sent to London to be washed. “We cannot go,” said he, “to market, or to shops, as you do in an English town: here, those who would live handsomely, must collect into their own warehouses from all parts of the world, whatsoever they may want for a whole year’s consumption.” Mr. H. says, “there are few hands in Sweden expert enough to repair machinery; and the clumsy machines used in the mines, is a proof of the small progress they have made. As to gardens, scarcely any body thinks of cultivating vegetables enough forthemselves, much less of having them for sale; and England still largely supplies that article of food to Stockholm.”
In speaking of this, after Mr. H. had gone, my aunt reminded us of the facts we had lately read in Ker Porter’s Persia, respecting the manner in which some customs continue unchanged for ages; but she thought this far more extraordinary in Sweden, which is in constant communication with the rest of Europe.
“It is partly caused,” said my uncle, “by the nature of the government, which tends rather to repress, than to excite speculation. Some improvement, however, does take place: a friend of mine, Mr. B., thirty years ago, saw in a gentleman’s garden at Stockholm, a little bed of potatoes, which the owner shewed him as a great curiosity. ‘They tell me, sir,’ said the gentleman, ‘that in some countries, the roots of this plant are eaten as common food by the people.’ Yet now,” continued my uncle, “this potatoe, which was then such a wonder, is generally cultivated throughout all Sweden, and is liked by all classes.”
11th.Sunday.—Wentworth asked my uncle to-day, what is meant by—thy kingdom come—in the Lord’s prayer? “What do we exactly pray for when we repeat those words?”
“I believe,” said my uncle, “that they havebeen variously explained. By some they are supposed to allude to that period, when the Messiah will again dwell on the earth, and when wickedness and misery shall finally cease. Others apply them to the universal diffusion of the gospel; when all nations will become the people of Christ; and when his kingdom may therefore be truly said to extend over the whole world.
“But besides these general, and I fear, distant applications of the expression, there is another, and a simpler one, which more immediately directs itself to our present feelings and actions: when the influence of Christ has overcome all our sordid and selfish motives; when his humility is the example we endeavour to follow; when our passions are controlled by the purity of his precepts; when our actions are subjected to the dominion of his will; in short, when our love, gratitude, and obedience to him, form the governing principle of our lives: then, indeed, it may be literally said, that his reign has been established in our hearts, and that his kingdom has come.
“We may certainly interpret these words as relating either to the future kingdom of the Messiah on earth, or to the progress of Christian knowledge in humanising the savage and enlightening the heathen; but we are scarcely authorised to suppose that our prayers can be ofany avail in hastening the time appointed by immutable Wisdom for those important events. When, therefore, in using this sublime and concise prayer, we mean to express either of these significations, we must perceive that they do not possess that second quality which seems to me to be essentially necessary in every prayer proceeding from man—namely, that while we address our petitions to God, they, at the same time, should convey an admonition to ourselves, and instruct us how to do our part towards attaining those objects for which we supplicate.
“But if, on the other hand, we apply those words to the dominion of Christian principles in ourselves, we are given reason to hope that the petition may be granted, because we pledge our own humble, but earnest efforts, as the requisite condition on which we presume to pray for it; and for these reasons I am inclined to consider that this is the most important meaning of the words, Thy kingdom come.”
12th.—Hertford’s letters have, of late, been very frequent. I think the following extract will amuse you.
“The Druidical monuments of the island of Lewis are remarkable. Scotland possesses many specimens of those structures; but, except in Lewis, they are rare among the Western islands. In the neighbourhood of Loch Bernera, severalof them are comprised in a comparatively small space: a square mile would include the whole. They are situated in an open, fertile tract, on the borders of an inlet of the sea; and if they were really temples, dedicated to Druidical worship, so many being collected together would almost imply that this spot was the seat of a college. Next to Stonehenge, they are, perhaps, the most interesting remains which have been found in Great Britain.
“The largest of these structures has the form of a cross, with a circle at the intersection, and a large central stone. Its total length, at present, is 588 feet, but other stones are found, in the same direction, for above 90 feet farther; so that we may suppose the whole length to have been nearly 700 feet. The cross line, which intersects that one at right angles, measures 204 feet, but it probably was much greater; and the diameter of the circle that occupies the interior of the cross, is 63 feet. The stone which marks the centre is 12 feet in height; the other stones rarely reach beyond 4 feet, though a few of 7 or 8 feet high are to be found, and one reaching to 13 is seen near the extremity of the long line. The intervals between them vary from 2 to 10 feet; and the whole number of stones, either erect or recently fallen, is forty-seven. The aspect of the whole work is very striking, as it occupies the top of a gentle eminence of moorland, and as there is no other object, not even a rock or a stone, to divert the attention, or diminish the impression which it makes.
“There are some circles of stones to be seen in the neighbourhood, but they are less perfect; and several large solitary stones, apparently of a monumental nature, are found in other parts of Lewis; but thecruciformshape of the structure which I have described is a remarkable and peculiar circumstance. No ruin, of that form, has been traced beyond the introduction of Christianity; and I believe it is agreed, that where the figure of the Cross is found carved on buildings of higher antiquity, it has been done by Christians, who have converted the monuments of ancient superstition to their own purposes. But such attempts cannot be supposed to apply to such an assemblage of large rude stones; while the circular parts, and the general resemblance of the whole to other Druidical structures, seem to prove its ancient origin.”
13th.—My uncle is so kind as to permit me to sit in the library whenever I like; and though he studies a great deal, he says my being there does not disturb him. He seems pleased whenever we young people go there, and very often lays aside what he is engaged in, to converse with us, or shew us something curious. Sometimes he takes that opportunity of giving a little gentle reproof; for he is so considerate of our small feelings, that he seldom exposes any one publicly in the family circle, knowing that half the good is destroyed by the mortification.
I was up remarkably early this morning, and went to the library before breakfast, expecting to be commended a little for my improvement in early rising. After our morning greetings, my uncle did commend me very kindly, and said that the pleasure of seeing me in the library was doubled by the satisfaction it gave him to find that I had such power over myself. I was beginning to exult a little inwardly at this, when he added, “But now, Bertha, as there are few pleasures without alloy, I must cloud this praise a little by doing what I dislike—by finding fault.”
You may suppose, dear Mamma, what a damp this cast on me for a moment; but I knew that he never chides without reason, he is so mild; and he never mistakes one’s conduct, he is so just: so I brightened up again, and anxiously listened.
“The fault, my dear Bertha, which I have to mention, is one that I have observed ever since you have been here—and it is, in my opinion, so important, that I can no longer wait for your own good sense to perceive it; for habit strengthens at a rapid pace. A general want of neatness is the fault to which I allude.I do not mean a want of actual cleanliness, but an untidy, careless way of arranging your clothes. I observe that they are not always put on straight—up at one side, down at the other—your petticoat, or something, forcing its way above or below the edge of your gown—a button off—a string broken—part of a flower torn or unsewed—frills looking flattened and wrinkled, and not having the fresh look that every thing about a young lady should have. Your hair in general looks shining and nice, but I don’t perceive why it should not always be arranged more carefully, and so as to prevent it from straggling at the sides, as I sometimes see.
“Ladies are always very anxious to be fashionable, but I assure you, Bertha, though your dresses may be of the newest patterns, you will not look well dressed without something more. Fashion changes continually; the furbelows of to-day give place to-morrow to some other whim—and the vulgar and the empty-minded have the never-ending delight of altering their dresses, but fail after all in acquiring the air of gentlewomen.
“A good carriage, a smooth walk, a feeling of being at ease in company, ready attention to all that is going on, and withdrawing one’s thoughts from self, give the stamp of good society more effectually, than all the finery that can be purchased. That valuable feeling of being at ease,and the self-possession it produces, can be obtained but one way. Never allow yourself when alone, to sit or move, in a manner that you would think inconsistent with propriety in company. But to return to our dress,—pray, accustom yourself to have your clothes in neat order, whatever they are; and well put on,at all times. The French expression ‘d’être bien mise,’ conveys everything that can be said on this subject; for besides the reasonable attention to fashion, which good sense requires, and the suitable correspondence of colours which implies good taste, it includes all the proper pinning, tying, and arrangement, which in my opinion is the most important point of all.”
I thanked my uncle very sincerely; and he then added, “Yes, Bertha, I consider it as a very unwise tenderness, not to make known their lesser faults to young people. Your aunt is of a somewhat different opinion, and was unwilling to annoy you, so I took it on myself to advise you on the subject of your toilette. It was from this mistaken delicacy of your dear aunt’s, that one of your cousins was acquiring the unfortunate habits of want of neatness and an ungraceful walk. Your aunt depended on her own good sense to overcome them; but at last, perceiving the injury we should do the child, by allowing those habits to become fixed, I spoke to her myself—she not only outlived my interference,but immediately and vigorously set about correcting them. She found some difficulty, I believe, but she has succeeded so well, that I think you cannot discover which of my daughters I mean, except that she is now, perhaps, the most remarkable for her neatness, and is alwaysbien mise.”
14th.—My uncle read to us to-day, an account given by a traveller in Savoy, of the fall of a part of Mont Grenier—a very astonishing instance, he says, of the local changes that occur on the face of the earth. I must give you a short account of it, dear Mamma.
Mont Grenier is five miles south of Chamberry; and rises about four thousand feet above the broad plain, on which it stands almost alone. A part of this mountain fell down in the year 1248, and entirely buried five parishes, and the town and church of St. André. The ruins spread over nine square miles, which are called les Abîmes de Myans; and though many centuries have passed away, they still present a singular scene of desolation.
The Abîmes de Myans now appear like little hills of a conical shape, and varying in height from twenty to thirty feet. They consist of detached heaps of fragments, but the largest masses have evidently fallen from the upper bed of limestone, by which Mont Grenier is capped;and some of them have been projected to the distance of four miles from the mountain. This limestone rests on beds of softer materials, by the gradual crumbling away of which, it is supposed the mass above them was undermined and precipitated into the valley. In the course of years, the rains or torrents, produced by dissolving snows, have washed away the loose earth, and thus the little conical mounts have been separated and detached as they are seen at present.
So deep is the mass that has covered the town of St. André, that nothing belonging to it has been discovered, except a small bronze statue. The ancient chronicles do not inform us, whether the catastrophe was preceded by any warning that allowed the inhabitants time to escape. The quantity of matter sufficient to cover the plain to such a depth and extent, rushing from the height of three quarters of a mile into the plain, must have produced a shock inconceivably awful. A great part of the district has been gradually planted with vines, but it still presents a most impressive scene of ruin.
My uncle said that this is one of the most remarkableeboulementsof which he has ever seen a description—he read it to us from travels very lately made in Switzerland and Savoy[5].
15th.—I hope you are interested, dear Mamma, in Bessy Grimley’s history.
Franklin is returned—he came about a week after his letter; poor Bessy was very anxious, for the weather was stormy, and she could not hinder herself from being frightened at the thoughts of the great ocean he had to cross. We went again to see her, and I tried to cheer her, by telling her I had lately come a much longer voyage. My aunt accompanied us, and was pleased with the cottage and its inhabitants; she went to visit the poor old decrepit woman, and found her bed made up comfortably, and both that and the room looking very tidy and clean. The window was open, and a rose tree covered with flowers hung over it. My poor daughter, said the old woman, planted that rose-tree in her last illness, and Bessy has nursed both it and me; and she trims it and trains it in such a manner, that the flowery branches hang where I can see them, because she knows how much I love the tree.
My aunt observed a little shelf of books in one corner, and asked if Bessy could read, “Oh! yes, ma’am—I wonder the old man did not tell you that, for many a time she has comforted us both, and indeed, often makes me feel less pain, by reading to us. I taught her myself, when she was a little creature, and I am sure I often wonder how any one can object to the poor havingthe blessing of education. Why, it would do your heart good, Ma’am, to hear her read the Bible, she reads it with such piety—or a prayer or two, often out of her prayer book. We have a few little stories too, that we like to hear again and again. The Blind Farmer—and the History of Wilcocks—and a pretty tale called Simple Susan—in short, madam, though I am always a suffering, poor creature, and though we sometimes are supperless, we are still happy, and it is all owing to that grateful good Bessy.”
But I must tell you, Mamma, about Franklin. He has really given up a great deal for her sake: he might have been in a much richer way had he remained in America; but then, he says, what good would it all have been to him away from his Bessy! They are to be married next week; and my aunt, and all of us, are preparing different articles of dress or furniture, that may be useful presents to them. My uncle suggested some little alterations in the arrangement of the house, so as to make room, at present, for the Franklins; and he offered to assist them next spring in making it still more comfortable.
There is a farm to be let—not very good ground, but well situated, and about half way between Fernhurst and the old man’s cottage. My uncle has hopes of procuring it for the Franklins; and I am sure it will be an advantage to them to be near my uncle, his adviceis so useful, and he knows so much about every thing.
Some of the land is like forest ground, and has neither been fenced nor drained; but Franklin says he will gradually bring it into cultivation. I am in hopes I shall have many a pleasant walk there with my uncle; and then I shall have a good opportunity of seeing the whole process of farming.
How benevolent my uncle and aunt are! they are as much interested about Bessy as if they had always known her; and my uncle’s manner is so kind and so cheerful, that he raises the spirits of the poor old couple whenever they see him.
16th.—My cousins are such gardeners, particularly Mary and Wentworth, that they have made me wish to become one too. Caroline is not so fond of gardening as the others, though she has some very pretty flowers, and labours a good deal. She has given a large portion of her garden to little Frederick, who is her particular charge. He calls himself her little boy, and he is so indeed, for she teaches him most of what he learns, reads with him, and makes herself quite his companion.
When we were gathering a few still lingering roses to-day in Mary’s garden, I said that Ibegan to think that I should like to manage a little garden as well as they did.
“Huzza!” exclaimed Wentworth and Frederick; “I knew she would become one of us at last.”
“Oh yes,” said Mary; “I have been expecting this; I always knew that Bertha was not really indolent. Now she will no longer sigh after
The coffee plains, the orange groves,And flow’ry vales she so much loves.”
The coffee plains, the orange groves,And flow’ry vales she so much loves.”
The coffee plains, the orange groves,And flow’ry vales she so much loves.”
“And now,” said Frederick, “to encourage the poor child, we must give her a little bit of ground rent free. I will give her a bed in my territory.”
“And I—and I,” said each; “we must all contribute to her garden.” “And so must I too,” said little Grace; “I will give her a share of my garden, and I will teach her how to shell the seeds, and then to sow them.”
When my uncle and aunt came in from riding, my cousins went in a body to tell him how they intended to manage. For that is one of the happy things in this family, dear Mamma, as I heard some one remark lately; they feel a mutual interest in each other’s pursuits, and my uncle and aunt are always ready to assist them in accomplishing their little plans, whether serious or playful. There is no jealousy or mystery—all is open; and, though ready toassist each other, they never officiously interfere in one another’s occupations, because each has abundance of their own.
But I must continue my history. When they had told my uncle of their intended donations, he said, in his playful manner, “Most puissant friends, if I were allowed a voice in this affair, I would say that Bertha ought to have an independent portion, which she could cultivate or spoil, to her own satisfaction. If your aunt has no objection, I will give her a certain spot near Caroline’s garden, which requires a good deal to be done to put it into order. A little steady employment will be of great use in breaking her into the noble science of horticulture; and she can lay out her domain to her own taste. May I hope this suggestion meets with your approbation?”
“Oh yes,” said Wentworth; “we all approve of your amendment, Papa, though we are sorry not to have the pleasure of making a general contribution in her behalf. However, I know she will require help; and I engage to be her labourer, and do all her hard work.”
“And I,” said Frederick, “will be her little garden boy—her slave, if she likes; for I know she comes from a country where slaves are employed.”
“Well then, Bertha,” said my uncle, “I will shew you this piece of ground; and, if you likeit, you shall have it on three conditions. The first is, that you never work long enough to fatigue yourself. These creatures have been little labourers and tillers of the earth ever since their infancy, but you are not accustomed to it, and I like moderation in every thing—in work as well as in play. Condition the second—that you really learn to garden, and do not blindly go through a certain routine of operations, because others do. Mere imitation is a bad rule of conduct, whether in gardening or any other action of life. You must learn the why and the wherefore of what you do. Condition the third—that all your implements be regularly put in their proper places every day, when you have done; and that you have a basket to carry seeds, and knife, and all other small affairs.”
I promised to adhere to his conditions; and as soon as luncheon was over, we went to the place. It extends from Caroline’s garden, towards a little stream which skirts the shrubbery, and comes very near my aunt’s flower-garden. Frederick has undertaken to connect them by a bridge, and I have already formed a multitude of plans for laying out this little spot.
17th.—Caroline has allowed me to make the following extract, from a letter that she received this morning from Hertford:—
“There are some marine animals herewhich I cannot find mentioned in any of the books we have with us; and one species, my companion says, has very rarely been observed in the British seas. These animals belong to a gregarious family, and often adhere together, but in a manner that is peculiar to each species. In this new species they are linked together endways, so that the whole forms a chain. They move forwards by swallowing, and suddenly emitting the water; and it is amusing to observe the whole chain of many feet in length, swimming with an undulating motion, resembling that of a serpent. They are quite transparent, and the adhesion is so slight, that the least force separates them. We put some in a bucket of water, but they did not like the confinement, and died in half an hour.
“That interesting phenomenon—luminous sea-water, is seen here in autumn in great brilliancy. It certainly does not proceed from any ingredient of the water itself, but from the phosphorescent property of living animals; and from what I can learn, there are a great many other tribes that possess this power of giving light, besides those described in Dr. Macartney’s ingenious paper, which you and I read together. I am informed, that Sir Charles Giesecke discovered several new species on the coast of Greenland, which were not only luminous when alive, but retained this property even when broken topieces by the violence of the sea. They have been well called the glow-worms of the deep, by a writer, whose account of these islands has been a great assistance to me in my tour.
“I have much more to tell you on this subject when we meet; but now the wind is fair for my voyage to St. Kilda, and all hands are waiting for me.”
18th.Sunday.—There was some little argument going on at breakfast, this morning, between Frederick and Wentworth, on the question of resisting injury and injustice, or of passively submitting, according to the injunction of the Gospel; and my uncle took advantage of it to say a few words on the subject, lest we should mistake between the real meaning and the figurative expression.
“It has been charged against the Gospel,” he said, “that it teaches men to feel towards their enemies in a manner which is compatible only with an abject, slavish temper, and that it directs what it is impossible to practise; not only forbidding retaliation, but inculcating patience under the grossest ill-usage; as in these passages: ‘Love your enemies, bless them which curse you. Resist not evil; but whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.’ But such objections can only be urged against the merewords; they donot apply to thespiritof the precept. It is a forbearing disposition—a slowness to resent—a readiness to make allowance for the passions of others, which is meant; for, in many instances, it would be totally unreasonable to take them in their literal meaning. These texts, and others of the same nature, were intended to counteract the misinterpretation of the Jewish doctors; who, because the Mosaic code enjoined exact retaliation in the punishment of crimes by the regular sentence of the judge, perverted that into a permission to indulge in private revenge; and who were notorious, also, for want of charity in their feelings and conduct to all persons not of their own nation or sect. It was in consequence of these corrupt prejudices, that our Lord inculcated, with peculiar emphasis, the contrary principles of forbearance, forgiveness, and kindness, to those who had offended; and he illustrated these precepts by striking and familiar instances.
“It appears, from various other passages, also, that it was not the literal rule which Christ meant strictly to enforce in every instance, but the spirit of it—that is, the temper of humility, the control of all violent and selfish impulses, and the patience and submission which are the effects of self-control;—above all, the pausing to put ourselves in the place of the offender, before we give way even to just resentment; sothat, by supposing the fault our own, we may consider in what light it would then appear to us, and, consequently, lead us to act towards others as we should wish to be acted by. Our Saviour meant that we should have a willingness to forgive, and that we should habituate our hearts to that amiable benevolence which disposes us, under real provocation, to pardon, and even to promote the good of those who have injured us. It is astonishing how soon we can acquire the habit of not gratifying resentment.
“One strong proof that it was never intended that we should understand these rules too literally is, that we find, by the instructions of our Lord to his apostles, as well as by their own subsequent conduct, that they did not recommend or practise either perfect insensibility under injuries, or indifference to their character. They occasionally resorted to such legal and innocent means of guarding their safety and good name, as were compatible with their situation and their peculiar mission. When, therefore, we see undoubted malignity in the conduct of others towards us, we are justified in guarding against its repetition; but Christianity binds us, at the same time, to moderation, and to omit no opportunity of benefiting and reforming our enemy, whose heart may be softened by the control we exercise over our feelings, and whomay often be changed, and rendered more Christian, merely by our forbearance.”
My uncle said he dwelt the longer upon this important subject, because every other virtue, he thinks, rests on self-control.
19th.—Well, dear Mamma, I have taken possession of my garden; and now I hope I shall not grow tired of it, or disgrace myself by having it ill kept. One part of it had been a little nursery for rose trees, rhododendrons, and other flowering shrubs. That, and the large bed near it, which is rather moist, have become very weedy; but the front beds, and the slope down to the brook, are in very good order; and when the annuals, which are now in seed there, are removed, I shall begin to dig. The moist bed is to be trenched; and as this is the best time for transplanting deciduous shrubs, as well as almost all plants, I shall have plenty of work on my hands. I may have as many shrubs as I please, and I am to have advice from all these gardeners, particularly Mary, who does every thing at the right season. She has some nice cards, on which are written hints of what is to be done in each month; and, as they hang in her room, I can easily see there what I am to do: besides which, I intend to read a little in their gardening books, that I may understand what I am about. I look forward, with great pleasure, to this new employment,though I know I shall always feel disappointed at not having my garden full of the bright and glowing flowers that I have been accustomed to see. It must look, I fear, as sombre as the forest and the valley do, when I compare them with those of my former country. But they tell me that I must not judge now of the look either of the garden or of the country, as spring will give them a very different appearance; and, indeed, I must confess that, gloomy as the season is becoming, the well-sheltered fields, with the cattle quietly browsing, or tamely going home, at regular hours, to be milked, do look exceedingly cheerful.
I have frequently visited my aunt’s dairy; and the operations there are so new to one just fresh from a country where cows and dairy are but little attended to, that I take constant interest in them. “And the milkmaid singeth blithe” is now a familiar image to me; formerly it was only from your description I understood it. How is it that such a precious gift as milk can be overlooked in any part of the world, particularly in one that abounds with cattle as Brazil does; while, in some of the rocky parts of South America, thepalo de vaca, or cow tree, is considered such a treasure? But it is curious that I never heard of that tree till I came here. Humboldt says that it has dry, stiff leaves, and its large woody roots seem as if they couldscarcely penetrate into the crevices of the barren rocks on which it grows. For several months in the year, the foliage is not softened by a single shower, and its branches appear dead or dried; though, when the trunk is pierced, a sweet and nourishing milk flows from it. This milk is most abundant at the time of sunrise, and the natives are then seen hastening from all quarters, with large bowls, to receive it. He says it is rather thick, but sweet and well tasted.
I am making myself acquainted with all the dairy operations here, so that I shall be able, if ever I return to you, to teach them to our neighbours—from the milking of the cows to the making of the butter. To shew that I know some of them already, I must tell you that each cow is milked twice over, both in the morning and evening. What she first yields is called the fore-milk, and is not nearly equal to the second in richness, which is always strained separately, and set in separate pans. From this comes all the nice cream we have at breakfast and tea.
Both are skimmed a second time; and the produce is all collected in pans. When there is a sufficient quantity (that is, about every second day), this cream, which has been thus collecting, has become sufficiently acid, and is churned. My aunt tells me that the oily particles are, by the motion of the churn dash, separated fromthe whey, which, together, formed the cream, and thus become butter.
This is the method here; but she says that in some parts of England it is managed differently; for the second milk is there put along with the cream collected for churning; and by this means, instead of a poor sort of whey, which is given to the pigs, there remains a great deal of nice butter milk, that is very nourishing and agreeable, and forms a great part of the food of the poor. My aunt says she has even seen good cheese made of buttermilk; and the Scotch, after tying it up in bags and suffering it to drain, make a favourite dish, which they eat with sugar and lemon.
20th.—Extracts from another letter of cousin Hertford’s—it is dated August 22, though it only arrived yesterday—being delayed in the islands by contrary winds.
* * * * “There is a greater number and variety of ancient remains to be found in Islay, than in any of the neighbouring islands. I saw several monumental stones, which are as usual attributed to the Danes; but you know these rude monuments were common to all the descendants of the great Celtic nation. There are also some of those little round hills of earth calledbarrows, some of which have been excavated and found to contain urns and ashes; theburning of the dead having been at times practised among the Celts.
“Some of those ancient weapons calledcelts, made of stone as well as of brass, have been found in this island: and also theelf-shotor flint arrow heads, the universal weapon of ancient times; what amazing patience it must have required to shape this weapon into the accurate form which it usually possesses!
“Among other antique remains discovered in Islay, are eighteen large gold rings, which were buried in one spot. They are bent into a circular form but not closed; and having been at first used by the person who found them as handles for his drawers, they are still employed in the same way, though their value has long been known. It is supposed that they were the collars of Roman officers, and probably the spoils of war.
“I observed a curious circumstance in this island which I may as well mention here. At its western extremity the cattle visit the beach every day at low water, and quit their pastures to feed on sea-weed. The accuracy with which they attend to the diurnal changes of the ebb tide is very remarkable; as they are seldom mistaken even when they have some miles to walk to the beach. They are very fond of fish also, preferring it to the best grass. In Shetland, I am told, that both dogs and horses eat fish from choice,and that this is a practice very common also in Canada.”
When this part of Hertford’s letter was read, my uncle said that a friend of his who had been for some time at Stockton upon Tees, observed that the cattle, who always came to drink at the river when the tide was out, and the salt-water retired, calculated the proper time with unfailing precision.
21st.—I have been looking, in a description of foreign birds, and I find that besides my little favourites with pendant nests, there is another very pretty species in North America, called the red-winged starling; it is found everywhere from Nova Scotia to Mexico—but not in the West Indies. In autumn they migrate to Louisiana in such multitudes that, flying close together, they absolutely darken the air, and three hundred of them have been caught at one drag of a net. The males are distinguished by a bright red patch on the wing or shoulder, and formerly when these were worn by ladies as ornamental trimmings for their gowns, a person collected forty thousand of them in one winter.
They build among aquatic plants, in places that are inaccessible; suspending their nests between two reeds, the leaves of which they interlace and form into a sort of shed or covering. To the nest they give solidity by grass boundwith mud; and they line it with the softest and most delicate herbage. This little cradle is always raised above the highest reach of the water over which it hangs; and when they do not find reeds suited to their purpose, they build between the branches of a bush or shrub, but always in a swampy situation. They commit great depredations on the maize when it is just sown, and the farmers therefore steep the seeds in a decoction of hellebore, which stupefies them; but nothing can save the corn when ripe from the myriads of these birds that attack it then.
Another species is called theBaltimore bird, not because it frequents Baltimore, but from the similarity of its colours to those in the arms of the ancient Baltimore family. Its nest, which is formed of tough fibres, is open at top, but with a hole at the side for more conveniently feeding the young; and it is attached by vegetable threads or fibres to the extreme forks of the tulip-tree and the hiccory. The country-people call themfire birds, because, in darting from branch to branch, they look like little flashes of fire.
22d.—I have just learned from my uncle, what gum lac is. I have often wished to know, but I never had sense enough to ask him till this evening. It is a resinous substance produced by an insect called thecoccus lacca, and is deposited onthe small branches of a tree, for the preservation of its eggs, as well as for the nourishment of the young maggot afterwards. As the gum is laid on, it is formed into small cells, which have as much regularity as those of a honey-comb; and in each cell there is found a little red oval egg, about the size of an ant’s. When the eggs are hatched, the young grubs pierce through the gummy coat that surrounds them, and go off, one by one, leaving their exuviæ behind, which are, in fact, the white membranous substances found constantly in stick lac.
The lac insect is cultivated in many parts of the Mysore in the East Indies; but is found only on trees of some particular species. These trees put out their leaves from the middle of March to the middle of April; during which time, a small twig, having some of these insects on it, is tied on each of them, and by the latter part of October, all the branches are thickly covered with the insect, and almost all the leaves are devoured. The branches are then cut off, spread on mats and dried in the shade. They are afterwards sold to the merchant under the name of stick lac, and are a staple article of commerce in the Mysore, as well as in Assam, a country bordering on Thibet. The only trouble in procuring it, is that of breaking down the branches and taking them to market.
The best gum lac is deep red; it comes to England in five different states:—
1. Stick lac, as in its natural state.
2. Seed lac, which is the former broken into small pieces, and appearing in a granulated form.
3. Lump lac, that is, the seed lac, liquefied by fire, and formed into cakes.
4. Shell lac, or the latter substance thoroughly purified. For this purpose it is put into canvass bags, and held over a charcoal fire, till liquid enough to be squeezed through the canvass; it is then allowed to drop on the smooth bark of the plantain tree, to which it will not adhere, and it spreads itself there in thin transparent layers.
Gum lac is extremely useful, being a principal ingredient in varnishes, in sealing-wax, and in cements; it is also used in large quantities in dyeing silk; and, when mixed with tamarinds, it is said to make a beautiful scarlet, which is not discharged by washing.
24th.—Yesterday, you well know, dear Mamma, was my uncle’s birth-day—it was not allowed to pass unnoticed, though, he says, the habit of marking particular days may be the cause hereafter of much pain. Be that as it may, we all were anxious to celebrate it. Little Grace repeated to him, when he came to breakfast, some very touching lines, written byMary, as an address from all his children. Caroline presented him with his two favourite flowers, a rose and a sprig of lavender; and I followed her with a little drawing of one of the few wild flowers still in blossom—the great white bindweed, which I had often heard him admire. I felt very doubtful of venturing to offer it, but he received it with an encouraging kindness peculiar to himself.
As the day was mild and bright, my uncle hired a boat, and took us all up the river, beyond the village of Elmore; we had an excellent view of Gloucester, and in the distance, we saw the pretty Malvern hills.
In returning, we went on shore at Elmore, where my aunt paid a visit to a lady, with whose daughters she ran away for a few days; and lower down the river, we stopped for half an hour at Newnham, to call on Mrs. Ando, who had been an old servant of my aunt’s. She is now living independently on her earnings, in a neat comfortable house; and she is always so rejoiced to see any of the family, that a visit to her is quite a festival. We found a pretty little child playing about the room, prattling French, and looking very droll, in a large Swiss hat. Mrs. Ando told us, that about a fortnight since, a gentleman and lady, with this child, had crossed the Severn, and come to Newnham; but the illness of the poor gentleman had detained them, and as theinn was small, and unfit for invalids, and the innkeeper being unwilling to let a sick man remain in the house, she had allowed them to lodge with her out of compassion. She described them as very amiable people; they had expected a friend to meet them, but had been disappointed; and she added, that they seemed to be distressed for money.
When we returned, there was the most beautiful western sun-light on every thing; cottages, trees, and the orchards full of rosy apples, were all gilt by it; and the river appeared like a sheet of glassy silver.
Soon after dinner, the evening part of the birth-day rites began, by a merry party at French blind-man’s buff. This was very amusing, for my uncle and aunt joined in it, and he was so comical, that it gave the game quite a new character. Tea succeeded, and after Grace had retired to bed, the piano-forte was opened, and we three sang for my uncle his favourite song of “Hark the Lark,” which we had learned purposely to surprise him on this day. He appeared so much gratified by this little attention, which had been a happy thought of Mary’s, that we were more than repaid for all our exertion to perform it well. Several other favourite songs were sung, in some of which the young ladies who had come from Elmore assisted; and when we were tired of singing, we danced reelsand quadrilles, to finish the evening. Sometimes my uncle made up our number, and my aunt was so good as to play for us.
The servants were allowed to have a tea-party for their friends on this occasion, and I heard, this morning, that my aunt had distributed meat or clothing to all her poor pensioners. The school-girls, too, had a holyday; and books—work-bags—pin-cushions—or housewifes—were distributed according to their merits. Caroline did all this part of the business.
25th.Sunday.—My uncle has been giving me some instruction in reading the Psalms to-day.—He thinks they are not always rightly understood, partly from the mistaken views of modern expositors, who have ascribed the immediate subject of every psalm, either to the history of the Jewish nation, or to the events of David’s life.
“Many of the psalms,” he said, “do commemorate the miraculous interpositions of God in behalf of his chosen people, and many of them were probably composed upon the dangers, afflictions, and deliverances of King David. But even of those which relate to the Israelites as a nation, there are few which do not represent, in a figurative manner, the future history of the Christian church; and of those which allude to the life of David, there are none in which it is notthe ‘Son of David’ who is the principal and real subject. David’s complaints against his enemies are the Messiah’s complaints—David’s afflictions are the Messiah’s sufferings—David’s penitential supplications are the petitions of the Messiah, under the burden of the imputed guilt of man; and David’s songs of triumph are the Messiah’s thanksgivings for his victory over sin and death. In short, every part of the book of Psalms has a double object.
“They go in general under the name of the Psalms of David: he probably gave a regular form to the musical part of the Jewish service; but there is good reason for supposing them to be the compositions of various authors;—some more ancient than the time of King David, and some of a later age. Of many, he was undoubtedly the author; and we know, from his own words, that those of his composition were prophetic—‘David, the son of Jesse, the sweet psalmist of Israel, said, the spirit of Jehovah spake by me, and his word was in my tongue.’
“The psalms are all poems of the lyric kind, that is, adapted to music, but with great variety in the style of composition.—Some are simply odes, elegiac, or pathetic, or moral; but a great proportion of them are a sort of dramatic ode, consisting of dialogues between persons sustaining different characters. These persons are frequently the Psalmist himself, or the chorus ofPriests and Levites opening the ode with an introduction declarative of the subject; and sometimes closing the whole with a solemn admonition. Sometimes Jehovah himself speaks; and Christ, in his incarnate state, is personated either as a priest, or as a king, or sometimes as a conqueror; and in those psalms in which he is introduced in this latter character, the resemblance is very remarkable to the warrior on the white horse in the book of Revelations.
“If this idea were kept in the mind,” continued my uncle, “it would greatly conduce to the right understanding of the psalms; and any reader, of ordinary penetration, would easily perceive to what speakers the different parts of the dialogue belonged.”
My uncle read to us, as an example, the twenty-fourth psalm, from Bishop Horsley’s translation. “It opens,” he says, “with a chorus, proclaiming the divinity of Jehovah, the creator and Lord of the universe. It then describes in questions and answers, sung by different voices, the sort of righteousness which consists not in ceremonial observances, but in clean hands and a pure heart. And the song concludes with a prediction of the Messiah, under the image of the entry of Jehovah into his temple.”