Chapter 5

Chorus.1. To Jehovah belongeth the earth and all that therein is.The world and its inhabitants.2. For he hath founded it upon the seas;And upon the floods hath established it.First Voice.3. Who shall ascend the mountain of Jehovah,And who shall stand within the precincts of his sanctuary?Second Voice.4. The clean in hand, and pure in heart,Who hath not carried his soul to vanity,And hath not sworn to the deceiving of his neighbour:5. This man shall obtain blessing from Jehovah,And justification from the God of his salvation.Chorus.6. This is the generation of them that seek after him,Of them that seek thy presence, O God of Jacob.PART II.—Semichorus.7. O gates, lift up your heads,And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors,And let the King of Glory enter.A Single Voice.8. Who is He, this King of Glory?Another Voice.Jehovah, strong and mighty;Jehovah, mighty in battle.Semichorus.9. O you gates, lift up your heads,And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors,And let the King of Glory enter.A Single Voice.10. Who is He, this King of Glory?Grand Chorus.Jehovah of Hosts. He is the King of Glory.

Chorus.

1. To Jehovah belongeth the earth and all that therein is.The world and its inhabitants.2. For he hath founded it upon the seas;And upon the floods hath established it.

1. To Jehovah belongeth the earth and all that therein is.The world and its inhabitants.

2. For he hath founded it upon the seas;And upon the floods hath established it.

First Voice.

3. Who shall ascend the mountain of Jehovah,And who shall stand within the precincts of his sanctuary?

Second Voice.

4. The clean in hand, and pure in heart,Who hath not carried his soul to vanity,And hath not sworn to the deceiving of his neighbour:5. This man shall obtain blessing from Jehovah,And justification from the God of his salvation.

4. The clean in hand, and pure in heart,Who hath not carried his soul to vanity,And hath not sworn to the deceiving of his neighbour:

5. This man shall obtain blessing from Jehovah,And justification from the God of his salvation.

Chorus.

6. This is the generation of them that seek after him,Of them that seek thy presence, O God of Jacob.

PART II.—Semichorus.

7. O gates, lift up your heads,And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors,And let the King of Glory enter.

A Single Voice.

8. Who is He, this King of Glory?

Another Voice.

Jehovah, strong and mighty;Jehovah, mighty in battle.

Semichorus.

9. O you gates, lift up your heads,And be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors,And let the King of Glory enter.

A Single Voice.

10. Who is He, this King of Glory?

Grand Chorus.

Jehovah of Hosts. He is the King of Glory.

26th.—This is the last day of our Elmorefriends, the Miss Maudes’ visit; fortunately it has been very fine, for they wished to walk through the forest; and we did ramble very far. We took them to visit the blind basket-maker and the Franklins, and shewed them all the improvements that my uncle had made in the cottage; and we came home by a round-about way through an oak coppice, in which there are nice glades and pretty paths. In one of these glades there was an immense pile of oak bark; and Miss Maude told me that in May it is peeled off the young trees which are cut down in thinning the wood, and is piled up in stacks to dry, till the latter end of Autumn, when it is disposed of by weight. For this purpose there was a huge pair of scales, set up near the stack, and on this very day they began to take it down, to weigh it, and pack it in large mats, made of a kind ofbentgrass, in which it is sewed up, and sold to the tanners at a very high price. The different groups, some weighing, some packing, and others taking it away on drays, made a very lively scene—and Miss Maude and I each made a sketch of it.

While we were drawing, she asked me several questions about the Brazilian forests, and I endeavoured to describe to her the richness of foliage, and the majestic height of the trees, to which none here can be compared. I did not forget the great variety in our Brazil woods, where almost every tree was different from thatnext to it, while here, there are not more than four or five species, which you meet again and again. Nor did I omit to mention how beautifully they are ornamented, by twining and parasite plants, and yet not rendered impassable; for I repeated what I had heard a gentleman at Rio say, that such is the regularity of those great forests, that he could gallop for miles through them, without being stopped by underwood.

Both she and her sister were very much interested in the account I gave of thesilk cottontrees, which spread out all their branches at such a height from the ground; and of thelecythis, with its pitcher-shaped fruit, and of thejacaranda, with its large feathered leaves of dark green, which make such a contrast with its gold-coloured flowers, some species of it so very tall and magnificent, and others with such singular tufts of whitish leaves at the ends of the branches.

They encouraged me to go on, and after describing how the dark tops of the Chilian fir mingle with all these other trees, I came to the humbler shrubs and flowers, which exhibit such a wonderful variety of tints, and then to the festoons of those twining plants, calledlianes, which descend from the tops of the highest trees, or twist round the strongest trunks, till they gradually kill them.

Though many trees grow to great size here,there is certainly not that profusion of vegetation which you used to make me notice at Brazil; and there is a gravity in these English woods, which I told them is very different from the gay and flowery appearance of the woods, and even of the road-sides, in Brazil, where the hedges of myrtle, china roses, scarlet passion-flowers, and trumpet flowers, make so gay a mixture. The autumn tints, so much admired here, are perfectly dead, compared to those of South America.

I described, also, our plains orcampas, with the humming-birds buzzing like bees round the flowering shrubs, and the myriads of gay butterflies, fluttering over the streams. How astonished these Gloucestershire people would be, if they were to see the troops ofemusor American ostriches, which run with the swiftness of horses through the bushes, accompanied by their young!

Insignificant, however, as the forest of Deane appears to me, I find that it once chiefly supplied the British navy; and was considered of so much importance, that one of the special instructions to the Admiral of the Spanish Armada, was to destroy it.

27th.—We had another boating party to-day, to take the Miss Maudes home. The river was quite alive, so many trading vessels were goingup. The coal mines and iron works in this neighbourhood employ a great deal of shipping, and the city of Gloucester is, besides, a place of considerable business.

As we boated along that part where the river makes a sudden horseshoe bend, and skirts the forest so beautifully, the woodland scenery naturally became the subject of conversation; and my uncle, after smiling at some of my rhapsodies about “the magnificent trees of Brazil,” told us, that a friend of his who has been in New South Wales, had described the appearance of the forests there, as very peculiar. From the scarcity of deciduous trees, there is, he says, a tiresome sameness in the woods; the white cedar being almost the only one that is not evergreen, in that extensive country; and besides, they have, in general, a disagreeable grey or silvery appearance. One of the most common trees there, is theeucalyptus, with white bark, and a scanty foliage, which is more like bits of tin, than leaves; and no painter, he said, could make a picturesque view of any scene there, because the trees have no lateral boughs, and, therefore, cast no masses of shade. He says, the Australian forests have all a very peculiar character, owing to the manner in which the two species that compose at least one-half of the forests, turn their leaves to the light. These trees are the acacia, and the eucalyptus; their leaves hang edgeways from thebranches, and both the surfaces of the leaf being thus equally presented to the light, there is scarcely any difference between the front and the back.

New South Wales, he says, is a perpetual flower-garden; and in point of size, the trees are not surpassed by those of any quarter of the globe. Amongst others, he mentioned the cabbage palm, which rises sometimes one hundred feet above the rest of the forest; and another palm called theseaforthia elegans, equal in size to the cabbage tree, but with pinnate leaves like those of the cocoa nut. From the broad membranous spatha of the flowers, the natives make water-buckets, by tying up each end, just as they make their bark canoes. The farmers use them for milk-pails; and of the leaves, both hats and thatch are made; so that, altogether, thisseaforthiaseems as useful as it is elegant.

The Miss Maudes having alluded to the description I had given them yesterday of the difference between the woods in England and Brazil, my uncle said, that young people did well to make such observations, and to acquire a general idea of the productions that characterize the great divisions of the globe. He added, that on all subjects of natural history it is not enough to amuse ourselves with details, or to accumulate mere facts, however valuable,—they should be classed in our minds; we then perceive theleading distinctions, and we become able to trace every new fact up to some general cause. This, he says, may be called gaining a sort of double knowledge—at least, it is making knowledge doubly useful.

28th.—I send you a long extract from the last of Hertford’s Western Isle letters. He is now at Edinburgh.

“I have been at the island of St. Kilda; the passage to it was stormy and dangerous, which kept us always on the look out. St. Kilda is so remote and solitary, that I had expected to find it more interesting than it is in fact, for I had hoped to find some peculiarities among the inhabitants, in which I might trace the olden times. Unfortunately the clergyman was absent, and as the inhabitants have not learned to speak English, we could not have any very satisfactory intercourse with them.

“They were a little alarmed at first, by the sight of strangers, and fled in all directions; but they soon became calm, and treated us very hospitably. They seemed to be a most innocent contented set of people—about a hundred all together—and were very comfortably dressed. They use the quern, or hand-mill, as in all the Hebrides, to grind their oatmeal, and to make their snuff. Their usual snuff-box is a simple cow’s horn, stopped at the large end, and a smallpiece cut off at the point, to let out the snuff, where they fix a leather plug. This is still called asnuff-millin Scotland, for they formerly used a machine attached to it, like a nutmeg-grater, which made the snuff, as often as a pinch was required; and my companion says that this is the custom also amongst the shepherds of the Alps.

“Their houses are constructed without mortar, for there is no lime on the island; the stone walls, which are raised only three or four feet from the ground, are double, and the interval is filled with earth. In the walls there are several recesses, each covered by a flag; and in these holes, like ovens, the people sleep. The windows and chimneys are simple openings in the roof; from which also hang their implements of husbandry, as well as of bird-catching, with their ropes, and fishing-rods, &c. and many long bladders, containing the oil of thefulmar, to supply their lamps, and also to use as a medicine. Every person has a dog, a small rough species of the Highland terrier, which scrambles along the cliffs, and creeps into the holes of the Ailsa cocks, who live in the ground, like rabbits.

“As to music, for which St. Kilda was famous, I am sorry to say that neither bagpipe nor violin were in the island when I was there; the airs, it is said, are very plaintive, like the generality of Highland music.

“The mode of preserving the peat in winter, and also the corn and hay, is ingenious, and peculiar, I am told, to this island. They are kept in buildings, which from their domed shape appeared most extraordinary, till I discovered their purpose. They are the first objects visible on approaching from sea, and I, of course, thought they were the dwellings of the natives. The sides admit a free passage of air, but the roofs are rendered water-tight by a covering of turf; the domes are formed by the regular diminution of the courses of masonry, and the whole is closed and secured at top by a few large heavy stones.

“The bird-catchers of this island have long been celebrated. The puffins are caught in their burrows by the dogs, and the chase is usually managed by the children, while the men are engaged in the pursuit of more difficult game. Gannets, or Solan-geese, and other large birds, are taken by hand, or with snares, on their nests; for which purpose the bird-catchers descend the cliffs, by the assistance of a rope, which is sometimes made of hair, or sometimes of slips of twisted cow-hide.

“A party, who were provided with these ropes, led me to the brink of a precipice, of such a height, that the sea, dashing against the rocks below, was not heard above. Several of the ropes having been tied to one another, to increase their length, the man who was going down fastenedone end of it round his waist, and the other end he let down the precipice, to about the depth to which he intended to go; then giving the middle of the rope to a man to hold, he began to descend, always steadying himself by one part of the rope as he let himself down by the other. He was supported from falling only by the single man above, who merely held it in his hands, and sometimes with one hand alone, looking at the same time over the precipice, without any stay for his feet, and conversing with the young man as he descended. In a short time, however, he returned, with a fulmar in his hand; it was placed on the ground, and a little dog having been set at it, the angry bird repeatedly cast out quantities of pure oil, which it spat in the dog’s face.

“I accompanied the same party in one of their night expeditions, as far at least as the edge of the precipice, in order to see them catch the Solan-geese. These wary birds have always a sentinel to keep watch; the object is therefore, by surprising him, to prevent his giving the alarm; for this purpose, the catcher descends the rock, at some distance from the sentinel, and then passing along horizontally, comes upon him unperceived, and so quickly breaks his neck, that the other birds are not roused. He then quietly removes one into the nest of another, which causes an immediate battle; this disturbs all the geese on the rock, and while they are gaping at thecombat they are easily caught;—the man twisting the necks of as many as he chooses, and thrusting their heads into his belt—eight hundred are sometimes taken by this method in one night.

“There is a loose skin under their bill, in which these birds can carry four or five herrings at a time, besides sprats, which the young pick out with their bill, through the mouth of the parent, as with a pair of pincers. When the gannets observe a shoal of herrings, they close their wings to their sides and precipitate themselves head-foremost into the water, dropping just like a stone.—Their eye is so exact in doing this, that they are sure to rise with a fish in their mouth.

“I must also mention theFoolish Guillemot.—A rock-man descends at night by his rope to the ledge of a precipice, where he fixes himself, and tying round him a piece of white linen, awaits the approach of the bird, who, mistaking the cloth for a rock, alights on it, and is killed immediately. This silly bird lays but one egg, and without any nest to protect it: so that when disturbed, she frequently tumbles it down the rocks as she rises.”

29th.—I have been labouring most diligently at my garden, and many a time did I wish that my Mamma and Marianne could have seen how much the indolent Bertha, as she used tobe called, is improved in activity and in real strength. I was preparing a bed for hyacinths; taking out the old soil, and putting nice fresh earth, mixed with sand, in its place. Wentworth helped me to dig out the earth, and Frederick and his wheelbarrow were for a long time busily employed in taking it away. My aunt had given me the bulbs, and we were anxious to complete the job, before the weather should become too wet.

My uncle paid us a visit, and seemed pleased with us all. He likes to see that sort of patient perseverance—it is more valuable, he says, than genius; and in the evening, he read to us the following anecdote from Bakewell’s Savoy, to shew how much may be done by it.

The mineral waters of Breda were formerly covered by a sudden inundation of the river Isere, and lost. In the summer of 1819, the breaking down of the side of aglacier, in one of the upper valleys of that river, produced another inundation, which brought down with it an immense quantity of stones and earth, that blocked up the river and forced it into a new channel. A miller and his family, who lived on the banks, narrowly escaped with their lives, and most of his little property and all his winter stores were swept away. He was then an old man; but nature had given him that resolute spirit, which regards common calamities only as motives for additional exertion. He lost notime in useless lamentations, and immediately began, not only to repair, but to improve, and to provide, as much as possible, against a recurrence of similar misfortunes. He excavated with his own hands a large cellar in the rock near his mill, partly by the pickaxe, and partly by blasting with gunpowder; and there his stores and winter provisions were safe from any power of destruction, less formidable than an earthquake.

But this industrious man had long been the wonder of thecommune. One of his performances, that almost exceeds belief, was the removal, in 1796, of an immense block of marble, and the working it into a millstone for crushing walnuts. The block had fallen into the valley, about three hundred yards from his mill. He had often viewed it with a wishful eye, but to remove it seemed beyond his power; he was, however, then in the vigour of life, and he resolved to attempt it. He began by cutting the stone into a proper form, which was a labour of many months; when this was done, by the aid of his wife, his mother, and his servant boy, and with some miserable pulleys, he contrived, for several successive weeks, to move it a few inches, or a few yards every day, according to the nature of the ground, till at length he brought it safely within his mill. It is about nine feet in diameter, and three feet in thickness; and cannotweigh less than fourteen tons, as it contains about 189 cubic feet of marble. The removal of this huge stone, with the very slender means by which it was accomplished, is a striking instance of what labour can effect, by unremitted perseverance.

In the winter which followed the last inundation, his wife observed steam constantly rising from the opposite bank of the river, and, on going to the spot, she found a considerable spring of hot water, which being examined, and found to be mineral, baths were established there. Mr. Bakewell adds, that being desirous that this industrious miller should derive some advantage from his wife’s discovery, he recommended his keeping mules to let out to the bathers, and cows to supply them with milk, during the season. With these suggestions he was much pleased, and should he adopt them, it will be equally advantageous to visiters at the baths as to himself, as there was neither horse nor mule to be hired in the place; and in the summer months, as all the cattle are pastured in the mountains, milk can be procured only once or twice a-week.

Oct. 1st.—I have just read such a pretty description of the humming-bird, that I must copy it for Marianne: it is from Buffon, who calls this birdl’Oiseau Mouche. “Of all animated beings,” he says, “it is the most elegant in form, and themost brilliant in colours—our precious stones cannot be compared in lustre to this jewel of Nature, who has bestowed on it all the gifts which she has only shared amongst other birds. Lightness, swiftness, grace, and the most splendid clothing, all belong to this little favourite.

“The emerald, the ruby, and the topaz, sparkle in its plumage, which it never defiles with the dust of the earth; and scarcely even deigns to touch the green turf for a moment. It is always on the wing, fluttering from flower to flower, and possesses their freshness as well as their brilliancy—it lives on their nectar, and only inhabits those climates where flowers never cease to bloom.

“It is in the warmest regions of the New World, that all the species known of these birds are found; for those which advance in summer to the temperate zones, only remain there a short time. They seem to follow the sun, to advance and retire with him; and to fly on the wings of Zephyr in the train of an eternal spring.”

I thought we had in Brazil the smallest humming-birds that were known; but I have read in Mr. Bullock’s very entertaining book, that he procured one in Jamaica, that was less than even some species of the bee. It had taken its station on a large tamarind tree, which was close to the house, and overspread part of the yard; there it spent most of the day, and kept absolute possession of its dominions; for, the moment any other bird, though ten times larger than itself, approached the tree, it furiously attacked and drove off the intruder; always returning to the same twig, which it had worn quite bare, by continually perching on the same spot.

Mr. Bullock observed these birds feeding on insects,—which contradicts the general idea that they live only on the honey of flowers.—When he was in Mexico, one of them took possession of a pomegranate-tree, and sat on it the whole day catching the flies that came into the flowers; and on dissection he has found other insects in their stomach. Though naturally petulant, and very tenacious of intrusion, they seldom quarrel in captivity; for example, when a great blue-throated humming-bird occupied the perch, he has seen the diminutive Mexican star settle on its beak, and quietly remain there for some instants, without the insult having been resented. In the air, indeed, they fight desperately till one falls, and Mr. Bullock witnessed a battle in heavy rain, every drop of which he thought would have been sufficient to beat the little combatants to the ground.

They are still worn by the Mexican ladies as ornaments for the ears; and their name in the Indian language signifies “Beams, or locks of the sun.”—But he says, what is very true, indeed, that the stuffed humming-birds can give but littleidea of their real brilliancy; for the sides of the fibres of each feather being of a different colour from the surface, the least motion of the bird continually changes the hue. For example, the topaz-throated humming-bird of Nootka Sound is ever varying from a vivid fire colour to the bright green of the emerald.

They are very cunning little things; the house in which Mr. B. lived was of one story, inclosing a garden round which it was built. The spiders had spread their numerous webs from the tiles of the projecting roof, to the trees in the garden, so closely, that they resembled a net. The humming-birds endeavoured to seize on the entangled flies; but, afraid of entangling their own wings, and perhaps a little alarmed by those great spiders, they would fly rapidly round and round, as if to reconnoitre the best avenue; then darting in, they picked out the smallest fly, and escaped without touching a single thread.

I was surprised to find that some of these birds were found as far north as Nootka Sound; and I asked my aunt if she thought there was any mistake in the name of the place. She said, that though the winters are very severe in that part of America, the summer is extremely hot; and she added that an intimate friend in Upper Canada, with whom she corresponds, mentions the humming-birds as being constant visiters in summer. I had not before heard that she had a correspondent there. How interesting, said I, her letters must be from those frozen regions, where everything is so different from the part of America in which I have lived!

“You shall see her letters with pleasure,” replied my aunt; “and I hope at some future time you will know the amiable and excellent writer herself.”

2nd.Sunday.—In speaking to-day of reading the Bible, my uncle regretted that indolence so often prevents people, when they find difficulties, or apparent contradictions, from taking a little trouble to try if they could not be reconciled. “How often,” said he, “by a small degree of attention, might we perceive that the seeming disagreement arises from some oversight of our own, and that it might be made quite clear by a little reflection.

“For instance, in 1st Kings, vii. 26, it is stated that the molten sea containedtwothousand baths;—while in 2nd Chronicles, iv. 5, we are told that it received and heldthreethousand baths. Now the case is this: the writer of the book of Chronicles states that ten lavers of brass were made, which joined the molten sea. ‘Five on the right hand, and five on the left, to wash in them; such things as they offered for the burnt-offering they washed in them; but the sea was for the priest to wash in.’

“Hence it appears that the molten sea, with its appendages the lavers, were altogether for the washings; but each part was appropriated to distinct purposes—the lavers for the washing of burnt-offerings, and the sea for the washing of the priests; as it would not have been proper for the priests to have washed in the same water in which the burnt-offerings were washed. The lavers are not noticed in the book of Kings, in which the contents only of the sea are alluded to—but in Chronicles you perceive they are both mentioned. The lavers received one thousand baths, exactly the difference which makes these accounts appear contradictory—but which is completely explained by observing that a part only of the sea is alluded to by one writer, while the other describes the whole of it.”

My uncle mentioned some other passages in the Old Testament, which are misunderstood, in consequence of some slight inaccuracy in the English construction. I think I can give one of them nearly in his words.—“In 2nd Chronicles, chap. ii., an astonishing number of men are said to have been employed in building the Temple—a number that at first sight appears incredible, supposing them employed on the Temple only. But we are told by the learned that the original does not signify that they were all employed on what, properly speaking, was called the Temple, or inner-house, where the cherubim were kept.The expression applies equally to the outer division before the veil, which was called thegreater house; and we are therefore to consider that all the buildings attached to the Temple are included in this account of the employment of the workmen. Now the buildings around the whole area where the temple stood were intended not only for the residence of the priests and Levites, but were also adapted to contain their portion, or tenth, of the produce of the land; and certainly, for these purposes, the out-buildings must have been very capacious. And besides, we must recollect that great numbers of men were necessarily occupied in quarrying stones for buildings of such extent, as well as in preparing the materials for fitting up the interior.”

When my uncle had finished this satisfactory explanation, Mary said that she had lately been comparing the history in the books of Kings and Chronicles, and that she had met with a little difficulty. In 1st Kings, ix. 23, we are told that the number of chief officers over Solomon’s work was five hundred and fifty.—But in 2nd Chronicles, viii. 10, they are said to be two hundred and fifty.—“Now, papa,” said Mary, “I know you can clear up this difficulty.”

“The accounts do seem contradictory,” said my uncle, “yet both are correct. You see in 1st Kings, v. 13, that Solomon levied out of all Israel thirty thousand men. This army wasdivided into tens, and every tenth man was an officer. These three thousand officers, if divided by twelve, (the number of the tribes,) will give two hundred and fifty chief officers, according to Chronicles. But we had been already told (chap. ii. 18) that Solomon employed one hundred and fifty thousand workmen, and that over them he appointed three thousand six hundred overseers. These overseers were regulated in the same manner as the officers of the army; and, therefore, if three thousand six hundred be divided by twelve, it will give you three hundred chief officers; which added to the two hundred and fifty, selected from the guards, makes five hundred and fifty officers that bare rule over the people, according to your quotation from the first book of Kings.”

3d.—I had a nice walk with my uncle to-day, to Farmer Moreland’s, with whom he had some business. As we passed through the field in which there had been meadow this year, my uncle made me observe what a fine growth had sprung up since it was mowed; the after-grass he called it. I asked, did he not consider the grasses as amongst some of the most useful plants?

He said, “The tribe of grasses yield more sustenance to man, and to the larger animals, than all the rest of the vegetable kingdom put together. Their herbage is perpetually springing,and it is adapted to almost every soil, climate, and situation. The grasses are a very extensive tribe, and yet throughout the whole of it, nothing poisonous or injurious is found, except, perhaps, the stupefying quality attributed to the seeds of thelolium, or rye-grass. The farinaceous produce of wheat, rye, barley, rice, maize, and many others, supplies mankind with the most general and wholesome nutriment.”

As we walked along, I shewed him quantities of wild ranunculus mixed with the grass, and I asked, was there no way of preventing the growth of all those weeds. He answered, that a certain proportion of what we vulgarly called weeds, are now considered useful in making the grass more palateable to cattle, and even more wholesome—“Just in the same manner,” said he, “as men could scarcely live on flour alone, so cattle cannot be well supported by mere grass, without the addition of various plants, in themselves too acrid, bitter, or narcotic, to be eaten unmixed. Salt, spices, and a portion of animal food, supply us with the requisite stimulus or additional nutriment; and, in the same manner, the ranunculus tribe, and many other plants, season the pasturage of cattle.”

My uncle afterwards told me, that some of the grasses run chiefly to stalks, the leaves decaying as the seed advances towards perfection: such as rye-grass, dog’s-tail grass, and fine bent;while others, whose leaves continue to grow after the seed is formed, retain their verdure and juices during the whole season, as in thepoaand fescue tribes, whose leaves are green and fresh, when the seeds are ripe. Ignorant farmers do not attend to this, and often, in mistake, sow those very grasses that run all to stalk and seed. Besides the numerous families of real grasses, there is also a great variety of plants cultivated by farmers, to supply their places, and are, therefore, called theartificial grasses.

“In some cases they are of more rapid growth than a crop of grass—in others, the change is of use to the soil. Sainfoin, for instance, of which you see so much in Gloucestershire, is found to be particularly adapted to a soil exhausted by repeated corn crops, because its root enters deeply into the ground, while the fibrous roots of corn spread close to the surface. Lucern, clover, vetches, and other succulent and quickly growing plants of this nature, are also called artificial grasses—and are thus of great advantage to the farmer, by supplying his cattle with excellent food, and at the same time by alternately giving rest to different portions of his ground.”

4th.—Some visiters have just arrived; they are to spend a week here, and I am sure weshall not go on half so pleasantly, for these people will interrupt all our employments, and will, I suppose, be very formal. I said so to my aunt this morning, and I was surprised to find that she was not of that opinion; I thought she would particularly dislike having the regular, happy life here deranged.

I have been very busy in my garden this morning. With some help I have completed the little flower beds, which I intend to be so pretty next spring—they are intermixed with grass-plots, and are made up of good, fresh earth, properly prepared for the plants they are to contain. Mary, who seems to have a great deal of knowledge, has assisted me—for I find that much of the art of gardening consists in suiting the soil to the nature of the plants. In my jonquil bed, she advised me to put abundance of sand, and no manure. This has been done; and this fine mild dry day, I planted it with the bulbs as she directed me. I have a narcissus bed, too, and this has been made up with what the gardener calls hazel loam, and a small portion of manure. These two beds, along with one for hyacinths, that I described before, and one for carnations, make up what I call my regular flower-beds, on the upper part of the sloping bank. Besides these, I have two beds at one side, one for roses of different kinds, and one for white lilies. Theselast have, I am told, very magnificent flowers, and in order to have them very fine, a great deal of fresh manure has been dug in to nearly two feet in depth.

Some days ago, I planted a number of rose-trees, contributions from all my kind friends. I have also made little edgings to all my beds; and I am now, like a mere child, already longing for the time when I shall see them covered with blossoms. But I have not nearly done yet all that I intend; for I heard a gentleman, who comes sometimes to see my uncle, Mr. Biggs, telling him of such a variety of nice plants, and the modes of managing them, that I am determined to try some of the things which he mentioned. I must first consult my uncle, because I have great plans in view; but I am afraid all these strangers will prevent him from having time to listen to me.

I find that this is a busy season in the garden, though the decline of the year, and that several plants, and almost all deciduous trees and shrubs, should be transplanted now. I have quite got into the spirit of gardening, I think; it is indeed a delightful occupation to the mind, as well as the body. There is not only much to think of, and to remember to do at the right time, but also to know why it should be done.

Tuesday night.—Though I am tired after all my hard work to-day, I must tell you, Mamma,before I go to bed, that I see how foolish it is to judge of people in a hurry, or to think strangers must be tiresome, because they interrupt our usual habits. The strangers who arrived to-day appear to be very pleasing; Mr. Lumley, who has travelled a great deal, has many entertaining things to tell; and his daughters, and their mother also, are very nice people. They brought some pretty kinds of work with them, and I was glad to find that we might employ ourselves, instead of sitting up stifly and formally.

5th.—I mentioned last night, that the Lumleys seemed to be a very agreeable family; yet, when I woke this morning, I felt that some of my apprehensions were returning. Night, however, has come round again, and I must tell you, dear Mamma, that we have passed the day most pleasantly; partly in our usual occupations, for I found that my cousins never neglect those which are most important, for any guests whatever; and partly in walking and in gardening.

The Miss Lumleys pleased me very much, by appearing interested in the progress of my garden, and they even helped me to transplant several of my flowers. Then came my uncle and Mr. Lumley; they examined every part of my garden, and asked me several questions. My uncle inquired about the new scheme of which I had been talking, and said he wouldassist me as much as possible. I shewed him the old quarry, and boldly described all that I intended to do—frequently referring to hints I had picked up from his conversations with Mr. Biggs. My uncle said he was rejoiced to find that I could attend so well to general conversation, and gave me the quarry to reward me. When I had finished what I had to do in my garden, he and Mr. Lumley took Frederick and me to walk with them, and I heard numbers of entertaining things,—much more than I can now put in my journal.

We left the forest, and passing through the open fields which lie between it and the Severn, we walked for some time close by the edge of the river. I saw a beautiful bird sitting on a projecting stone, and we all stopped to observe it; sometimes fluttering its wings, and exposing its brilliant blue, green, and red plumage to the sun. It then took wing, and hovered in the air for some time, watching for the moment to dart on its victim. At last we saw it make a spring of twelve or fifteen feet upwards, and then drop perpendicularly into the water, where it remained several seconds. It was a kingfisher, which Mr. Lumley told me is a very common bird on the continent. He says it is shy and solitary, frequenting banks of rivers, where it will sit still for hours, as we saw it. It usually takes possession of a hole in the bank, which had previouslybeen made by a martin, or a mole, and which it enlarges a little for its own purpose. The hole has generally an ascending direction, and penetrates two or three feet into the bank; at the end it is scooped into a hollow, where quantities of small fishes’ bones are often found. Mr. L. has seen these nests frequently; and he told me that as the old birds appear to have nothing in their bills when they feed their young, it is thought that they discharge from their stomach the requisite nourishment.

There are several species, but this one is thehalcyonof the ancients, which poets imagined had a floating nest endowed with power to calm the winds and seas. Some of the gravest of the ancient writers relate, that it sat only a few days, just in the depth of winter, and that during that period the mariner might sail in full security—whence the expression, “halcyon days.”

Mr. Lumley has studied the habits even of the despised house-sparrow, which however, he does not at all despise; for he says that it is a most useful creature, destroying various kinds of grubs that would be most injurious to our crops. Though it generally builds in holes and gutters, and under the eaves of houses, yet it sometimes builds in the top of a tree; and then its nest, which is carelessly formed, because in a place where it is protected, is made as large as a man’s head, with a cover to keep off the rain. It iscomposed chiefly of hay and straw, but warmly lined with feathers, and fragments of thread or worsted, bits of cloth, or any material that can be picked up about a house; and should their nest be destroyed, they will build up another in twenty-four hours.

In some parts of France, Mr. Lumley saw earthen pots hung out of houses, for the sparrows to breed in, for the purpose of having a supply of young sparrows for the table; and it is said that the kings of Persia have them trained to hunt the butterfly.

6th.—My uncle and Mr. Lumley have been conversing to-day about the trees and woods of Europe. I had been saying so much to my cousins lately about the forests of tropical countries, that it was delightful to hear them continue the subject; and finding that I listened, they tried to make me comprehend all they said.

They remarked that each region of Europe may be distinguished, in some degree, by the different character of its forests; the pine and birch being invariably found in the cold northern countries; the lime, beech, ash, oak, chesnut, and walnut in the temperate regions; and, approaching the warmer climates, the cork tree and the olive.

The most useful of the tree families are bountifully extended, said my uncle, from nearly thefrigid to the torrid zone; and if we do not possess the rich variety of the tropical regions, the palms, the teak, the mahogany, the banyan, and the baobab, yet are we, on the other hand, provided with some tribes that cannot be surpassed in usefulness or in beauty. And it is worthy of remark, he added, that some one species of the oak and of the pine, those two most useful trees, are to be found in every climate of the earth, excepting in the immediate polar regions. The woods of northern Russia, of Norway, and Sweden, consist, with little variation, of the pine tribe. The Scotch fir retains its dense foliage during the long winter, and affords shelter to the wild animals of the forest; and the greater the intensity of cold, the firmer and more dense the timber becomes in texture. This tree supplies the peasantry with their cottages, their boats, and their fuel. Tar, rosin, and turpentine, are extracted from it by very rude methods of distillation, and its ashes produce potash. On the mountainous ranges of the Alps, the Pyrenees, and the Apennines, it grows luxuriantly at that elevation where the temperature is similar to that of the northern regions. In the mountains of Thibet, which are now considered the highest in the world, six different species of pine flourish; and even at the elevation of 12,000 feet, forests of pine are found mixed with birch and rhododendron.

In Finland, and in the neighbourhood of Petersburg, the birch, which comes next to the pine in quantity, is inclined to grow by itself; but it abounds in the natural woods of Great Britain and of other parts of Europe. In the central parts of our continent, elm, maple, and ash are common, and grow to a noble size; but their extent is small in proportion to the northern forests of birch and pine, and they seem to prefer an open situation. In the sheltered parts of Savoy and Switzerland the walnut is a very profitable as well as ornamental tree; and the olive flourishes on the sloping sides of the hills, particularly in Italy. In low and warm situations there, the cypress and poplar grow to a great size—above them comes the chesnut, and still higher, approaching the pines, appears the magnificent oak. The grey foliage of the olive gives a peculiar appearance to the country; and the cork-tree, also, Mr. Lumley says, excites the admiration of all travellers. Spain, Portugal, and the South of France are the countries in which this beautiful tree is most prominent;—it grows higher than the oak, of which it is a species, and has more slender branches and smaller leaves. The chief distinction is the spongy bark, which the tree throws off naturally; and it is said that the growth of the tree is improved by peeling it.

Besides the common and well known uses of the bark, he told us that it is employed in Portugal for beehives, for covering stables, and for many domestic purposes. Near Cintra he saw a convent built between two perpendicular rocks which actually formed the outer walls; and the monks, by neatly lining them with large flat pieces of cork, had effectually excluded all dampness. The timber is employed for the same purposes as oak; the acorns fatten immense droves of hogs; and the acorn-cups of this useful tree is one of the principal ingredients in tanning the Portuguese goat-skins.

Cork trees are found in great perfection in the South of France. From Bayonne, where the low sandy heaths calledles Landescommence, and extend as far as Bordeaux, the woods consist almost entirely of that tree, and of thepinus maritima, which is scarcely less useful. The wood is excellent, and yields an extraordinary proportion of turpentine resin, and tar; the fruit contains a kernel which has a pleasant flavour of the almond, and is often used in cookery; and from the root is obtained a brown dye which the fishermen use to preserve their nets. They are, however, in many parts of that tract of country prohibited from touching the roots, because their long matted fibres, by running along the surface, fix the loose sand and prevent its blowing away.

Mr. Lumley spoke with admiration of the woods of Old Castile, particularly of the fine evergreen oaks and the bushy laurel-leavedcistus neither of which he has seen anywhere else in such beauty. The acorns of the former, when roasted, form a large part of the food of the poor peasantry.

7th.—Mr. Lumley and my uncle have been studying Dr. Richardson’s remarks on the climate of the Hudson’s Bay countries, and I have noted for you all I could understand.

In the neighbourhood of Fort Enterprise, lat. 64° N. the white spruce advances nearer the northern limit than any other pine. The largest of those trees were between eight and nine feet in circumference. The elm, ash, sugar-maple, and arbor-vitæ extend to nearly the same latitude.

Oak and beech terminate about lat. 50°. The balsam poplar sends straggling trees as far north as lat. 63°, and the aspen grows in pretty large clumps a degree farther north, beyond which it was not seen. The balsam poplar forms a large proportion of the drift timber observed on the shores of the Arctic Sea, and is supposed to come principally from MᶜKenzie river.

Fort Enterprise was supposed to be elevated about 800 feet above the Arctic Sea, and the banks of the river on which it was built are ornamented with groves of the white spruce tree. On each side of the river, an irregular marshy plain extends to ranges of unconnected hills, atthe base of which there is commonly a thin stratum of mountain peat. The bottom of the valleys is generally occupied by lakes of a considerable depth, which are entirely land-locked, and communicate with each other only when flooded by the melting snow. The sides of the hills, and all the drier spots of the valley, are clothed with a beautiful carpet of the lichens, which form the favourite food of the reindeer; and some shrubs, such as the great bilberry, the marsh ledum, some of the willow tribe, and different species of andromeda, arbutus, and the kalmia glauca, frequently enliven the scene.

In sheltered situations, where the peat is deeper than usual, a few starved larch and black spruce are scattered. There are also thin clumps of the paper birch on the borders of the rapids, as well as of the white spruce, which thrives better there than any other tree; but all are of slow and stunted growth. Of the spruce cut down at Fort Enterprise, the increase seemed to have been in general at the rate of four rings, or years, to one inch; and though the house which the travellers built there was only 24 feet wide; it was with difficulty they obtained half a dozen beams of sufficient length, the trees tapered so much.

It appears by Dr. Richardson’s tables, that up to the 20th of June, 1821, there was no appearance of vegetation among the flower-bearingplants, except the gradual opening of the willow catkins. Early in June, the first, or female band of reindeer passed to the northward of lat. 65°; their progress seemed to be regulated by the uncovering of the lichens. When the thaw is much farther advanced, the lichens become too tender and pulpy, and the deer resort to the swamps to feed upon the grass, or rather hay, which having been frozen up in the preceding autumn, retains its sap and nutritive qualities, when the snow melts from around it in spring. In a few days, however, the stalks become dry, and the seeds are shed; but the deer by that time have reached the sea-coast, where other plants supply them with food, which, however, are not so fattening as the lichens.

On Midsummer-day the dwarf birch opened its buds; a fortnight afterwards the ice on the larger lakes broke up, and several plants flowered. But on the 5th of September a storm set in, which clothed all the country with snow for the winter; and in the beginning of October the party again walked over the lakes which they had crossed on the ice in the middle of June; an interval of only 116 days.

The sap of the trees and shrubs freezes there in winter; and the wood becomes so hard that the chips produced by an axe flew off more like splinters of stone than of wood.

In all those dreary districts there are no traces of the influence of man over the appearance ofthe vegetable kingdom. Cultivation is entirely confined to a few small gardens at the fur-posts; and the only mode in which the arts and customs of the natives affect the vegetable kingdom, is by their setting fire to the forests. These fires spread rapidly in summer, and are only extinguished by heavy rains. Years elapse before anything grows in the places thus laid waste. The branchless trunks of the burnt trees are in a season or two stripped of their bark and bleached, if not sooner thrown down by the wind. The surface of the ground in time acquires a little verdure from a few mosses and lichens; other vegetables take root; and, at last, the place where a pine forest had been, is occupied by dense thickets of slender aspens. The growth of this tree,—instead of a renewal of the pine forest, which might have been expected,—is a curious circumstance, and can be attributed only to its winged seeds favouring their dispersion.

I hope what I have written will amuse you, as in your last letter you wished to hear something of the discoveries made by Captain Franklin’s party.

8th.—I have much to tell you, dear Mamma, of all that we have seen and done this day; some of it quite out of our usual course, for we went to see a magnificent place, about nine milesfrom hence, belonging to Lord S——. My uncle, Mr. Lumley, and my cousins, rode, except Frederick, who came in the carriage with the ladies. The grounds and woods are extensive; but the gardens, stove, and conservatory, are remarkably fine, and were our chief object. Few private gardens have such a collection of the palm tribe, and of South American plants. I saw many of my old Brazilian friends; and moreover many plants and trees from Brazil, and the neighbouring countries, of which I was quite ignorant.

The house where the palms are kept was built on purpose for them, of an uncommon height; and Lord S—— has endeavoured to arrange the numerous specimens, as well as he could, according to Humboldt’s division of the tribe: the first, those which grow in dry places or inland plains, such as the fan-palm; secondly, those on the sea coast, as the cocoa-nut, &c.; next, the palms which flourish at the elevation of 1400 to 3000 yards above the sea, and which were unknown till Humboldt’s visit to the Andes; and, fourthly, those of fresh-water marshes, as the Mauritia palm. This is the sago-tree of South America; it extends along the swamps as far inland as the sources of the Oroonoko, and supplies the inhabitants with flour. In the season of the inundations, these clumps of mauritia appear as if rising from the bosom of the waters. They serve as habitations for a tribe of wretched Indians; and as they grow in great abundancein the low grounds of the Delta, at the mouth of the Oroonoko, strangers sailing up the river at night are astonished at seeing the tops of the trees illuminated by large fires. The poor natives suspend strong mats between the trunks of the trees, and fill them with moist clay, on which they kindle the fire necessary for their household wants. These people have preserved their independence, and probably owe it to the quaking and swampy soil which they alone know how to pass over, to their dwellings in the trees.

This mauritia palm is called the Tree of Life by the missionaries; for it not only affords the Indian a safe dwelling, but supplies him with food and wine, and cordage. Its fruit and farinaceous pith supply food—its saccharine juice ferments into wine, and the fibres of the leaf-stalks furnish thread fit for weaving hammocks, or twisting into ropes. How very singular, Mamma, to see a whole nation of human creatures depending on one single species of palm-tree for their existence!

We had much conversation about the various species of palms which we saw; and particularly the real sago-tree, which grows in the East, and which exceeds all other plants in the quantity of nutriment it affords to mankind. My uncle told me that a single tree, in its fifteenth year, sometimes yields six hundred pounds weight of sago or meal; for the word sago signifies meal, inthe dialect of Amboyna. Mr. Lumley said that, as these trees grow about ten feet asunder, an English acre could contain four hundred and thirty-five of them; and, supposing their average produce to be only one third of what my uncle mentioned, it would amount to eight thousand seven hundred pounds yearly of meal, from each acre. This, he said, was three times as much as would be considered a good crop of corn in this country. Sago is collected from five different palms, but not in the same abundance as from the real sago-tree.

We then examined some fine specimens of the date-tree, so famous in all our Eastern tales, and so delightful to all travellers. Mr. Lumley has often seen it near Lisbon, where it grows well; but the fruit never ripens perfectly in Europe. It is found in great abundance in Africa, and particularly on the borders of the vast desert of Sahara, where the parched sandy soil is so unfit for the production of corn. But the date-tree supplies the deficiency, and furnishes the inhabitants with almost the whole of their subsistence. Forests of this most useful palm may be seen there, of several leagues in circumference: their extent, however, depends on the quantity of water that can be procured, as they require constant moisture. The Arabs say these trees are very long lived; and there is scarcely any part of them which they do notmake useful. The wood, though of a spongy texture, lasts such a number of years, that they say it is incorruptible; most of their instruments of husbandry are made of it; and though it burns slowly, it gives out great heat. The Arabs strip the bark and fibrous parts from the young trees, and eat the substance in the inside of the stalk. It is nourishing and sweet, and is called the marrow of the date-tree. They eat also the young leaves, with lemon-juice; and the old ones are dried, and used for making mats, baskets, and many other articles, with which they carry on a considerable trade. From the stumps of the branches arise a great number of delicate filaments, of which ropes, and even a coarse cloth, are manufactured.

Indeed I believe all the palms are very useful, even the humble dwarf fan-palm, which we saw also in this collection, and which Mr. Lumley says is very plentiful in Algarve, the southern province of Portugal; it seldom grows more than three or four feet high, though the stem is thick: its fan-shaped leaves are used for making the baskets in which the dried figs are packed; and its young shoots are eaten as vegetables.

But I was surprised not to see in this collection the silk-thread palm, that celebrated tree which you and I have had the pleasure of seeing in its own country, with its beautiful, long, serrated leaves, composed of innumerable fibres,both finer and stronger than silk, and of which the fishing-nets are sometimes made. How useful it would be if this tree could be induced to grow in England—and how my uncle and aunt would laugh at me if they saw this sentence!

We returned by a different road, and I enjoyed the day very much; the drive was in itself so pleasant, and it is so satisfactory to see any thing new with people who have real knowledge like my companions, and who are alive to the pleasure of seeing what is curious. The Miss Lumleys have seen very little, they have seldom been out of the forest in their lives; yet they are not at all ignorant. They told me that they have not much time for reading, but that what little knowledge they have, has been acquired by the conversation of their father and mother.

Mrs. Lumley is rather silent in company; she seems to have much tenderness, mixed with a firm mind—and though always cheerful, she looks as if she had suffered a great deal. I imagine they are in confined circumstances, for she said to-day that till the morning they came here she had not been for many years in a carriage.

9th.Sunday.—After breakfast this morning my uncle conversed a little with us about the Epistles of St. Paul, which I had been saying were very difficult to understand; he remarked,“that if we attended to the long parentheses that St. Paul makes, and in which his energy and warmth sometimes seem to carry him away, we might easily connect the chain of his argument. But,” said he, “there are other causes of occasional obscurity. One is the nature of epistolary composition, leading the writer to refer to personal and local circumstances, and particularly to conversations, which were well known to those whom he addressed, and therefore not needing explanation to them. Another arises from the many allusions to peculiar laws and customs that were familiar to his readers, but requiring much research to comprehend them now. There is a third, and a very important circumstance, which is a source of frequent perplexity to commentators, and which, in some degree, affects all the writings of the New Testament, particularly those parts where doctrines are taught rather than facts detailed. Our great philosopher, Locke, alludes to this difficulty: he somewhere observes, that the subjects treated of in the Epistles are so wholly new, and their doctrines so different from the notions that mankind had previously adopted, that many of the most important terms have a different signification from what the same Greek words bear in the heathen authors. Indeed it is obvious that the common Greek language of the day could not furnish accurate expressions for doctrines either entirelynew, or derived from the Mosaic law, and the writings of the Jewish prophets. Hence the writers of the New Testament were obliged to employ Greek words, whose meanings were determined rather by analogy, than by their original derivation; and to combine them according to the idioms of the Hebrew and Syriac languages, rather than by the natural construction of Grecian phraseology.

“It is remarkable,” he continued, “that this circumstance is one which some rash infidels have presumed to consider as inconsistent with the idea of a divine interference in the promulgation of Christianity; and yet on sober inquiry, it will be found materially to strengthen its evidence. For if no phrase had been used which was not in conformity to the purity of the Grecian tongue, we should lose one of the great marks of authenticity in the New Testament—its peculiar language. You will readily perceive that the Hebraisms and Syriasms by which it is distinguished, and which could have proceeded only from men of Hebrew origin, prove it to have been a production of the first century; for after the death of the first Jewish converts to Christianity, we find hardly any instance of Jews becoming preachers of the gospel: and as to the Christian fathers, they were mostly ignorant of Hebrew. This distinguishing mark is to be found in all the books of the New Testament, in different degrees; norhave these idioms the appearance of art or design, being exactly such as might be expected from persons who used a language spoken, indeed, where they lived, but not the dialect of their country.

“Obscurity, from this cause, more particularly applies to St. Paul’s Epistles, because they were designed principally for the Jews. St. Paul, indeed, was born at Tarsus, and his native language was therefore Greek; but having been a very zealous Jew, it was natural that his language should be tinctured by Hebraisms; and it is probable that had he studied to avoid the air of a Celician Jew, in speaking or writing, his language would not have been so well adapted to his purpose, and would have made far less impression on the multitude.”

11th.—I have made such a discovery! I long to tell you, Mamma, though I dare say you have already guessed it. I have discovered that Mr. Lumley is the very person whom my uncle met at the harvest home, and whose history I wrote to you. But I never heard my uncle speak of him by any other name than Fitzroy, which I now find is one of his Christian names.

This evening we happened to be speaking of accomplishments, and Miss Lumley said that she had none to boast of.—“I believe you know,” said she, “that since we left Strath Morton, aplace I shall never forget, though I was then very young, we have been obliged to employ ourselves in what was useful only; and, until very lately, to assist mamma even in the menial work of the house. I do not feel ashamed to mention this,” she added; “for it is really gratifying to think and speak of all that my dear mamma was able to do; I only wish you could have witnessed the cheerfulness that accompanied all her exertions.”

She described their little cottage as it was at first, and their way of living; and then continued—“We were anxious to save mamma from some of the drudgery there must be, even in the smallest family; and, though often against her will, my sister and I shared, as much as children could, in her laborious occupations.

“She and my father gave us the best of all knowledge, that of religion—they taught us to feel well the weakness of our nature, and to look up with trust to that Power, who gives assistance to the humble. Their leisure was devoted to giving us solid instruction, to the cultivation of our minds, and even to directing our taste to literature.

“If sometimes we amused ourselves with a pencil, or tried to sing one of Mamma’s songs, she was delighted to encourage and assist us—and instead of lamenting that we could not do more, it raised her spirits to see even our childish attempts. Indeed, she has often said that the delight of seeing us gay, open-hearted, and good, was all she wanted; and when we danced merrily to our own singing, or made a scratchy drawing of a tree, she used to reward us with one of her sweet encouraging smiles, and would say, ‘Perseverance will do much; and as music and drawing are useful accomplishments, when kept in their right places, your attempts give me pleasure; but I value your cheerful dispositions, and grateful hearts still more.’

“And indeed Mamma was right, for never were there happier creatures than we have been, though enjoying but few of what are called comforts. Our gardens, our forest plays, and the pains we took in watching the habits of birds and insects, were our never-failing amusements; and we desired no more, if we were but sure that Papa and Mamma were pleased with us. To the constant visits of Mr. Benson, our good old clergyman, we are indeed indebted for much of what we know; he speaks to us so kindly, and he often reads with us, and removes our difficulties by his clear explanations. He has always approved of our acquaintance with the creeping and flying inhabitants of the forests, for he says, natural history is not only a most entertaining occupation, but well suited to a religious mind.”

12th.—My aunt, in the course of the last week, frequently turned the conversation on Mr. Lumley’s travels: and he told us many interesting things that he had seen both in Italy and Portugal. First about the vine. In one of the Minho vallies, not far from Oporto, the fields are small, and surrounded by high oaks, chesnuts, and poplars; the ground is artificially watered, and every tree supports a vine, which mounts to the top, and hangs its clusters to the highest branches. In other places, the vines are supported on rough trellises, so as to form shady arched walks in summer. But neither of those methods is supposed to produce as good fruit as when the vines are kept low; and as these are planted in straight rows, corn and other vegetables are sown between them. They are pruned down every year into the shape of a bush; and a short time before and after they come into blossom, all superfluous branches are removed, and some of the leaves are afterwards taken off to expose the fruit to the sun. The ground is hoed before the leaves come out in spring, and again before the flower comes. Rising grounds are usually preferred for vine culture, and when they are very steep, the earth is supported by dry walls, so as to convert the face of the hill into a succession of narrow terraces, which prevent the heavy rains from washing away the soil from the roots.

He then told us that when figs are gathered in that country, they are thrown into a heap, in a building prepared for the purpose, and that a syrup flows from them which is used for making brandy. They are then spread to dry in the sun, and after some days, are pressed into small baskets, made of the dwarf fan-palm, each basket containing 28 pounds weight.

The carob tree is one of the most beautiful of European trees, according to Mr. Lumley’s account; it attains a considerable height, and has a wide shady top, with a graceful, evergreen foliage of small glossy leaves. The wood is hard and red, and very useful; and the large pods of seed when dry, make excellent fodder for cattle: this tree is also called St. John’s bread.

But what made the greatest impression on me, was his description of a forest of date palms, near the town of Elche in Valencia. The fruit hanging on all sides, in large clusters of an orange colour, and the men swinging on ropes to gather them, formed, he says, a very striking scene. The trees were old and lofty; and their number was said to exceed two hundred thousand. Many of them had their branches bound up to a point, and covered with mats, by which process they became white; they are then cut off and sent by ship-loads from Alicant, to various parts of Italy, for the grand processions on Palm Sunday.

Mr. L. says, that the little chick pea forms a considerable part of the food of the poor in Portugal; and even common lupines, when soaked in running water to destroy their bitterness, are boiled, and sold in the market-place, and the people eat them out of their pockets. They are also used by the poor in Italy, but generally along with chesnuts, which are bruised and made into a sort of cake.

In ascending the Apennines, Mr. Lumley came to a mountain village, of very singular appearance; it gave him more the idea of a collection of huts in some savage country; no streets, no gardens, no appearance of cultivation, except a few great chesnut trees, that united their branches over the miserable houses. The people have large flocks of goats and sheep, whose milk supplies them with cheese, and whose wool is spun by the women in winter, and manufactured into a kind of stuff.

Most of the inhabitants of the Apennines depend on chesnuts, pigeons, bees, and milk, for their food; and like the natives of Auvergne, they make all their own furniture and clothes. They earn, however, a good deal by going every year to work, for the harvest season, in Lombardy and Tuscany, and the money they gain there, they bring carefully home.

The summer pastures, for the cattle of the rich plains of Tuscany, extend along the brow of thelower chain of the Apennine mountains, where there are a few huts to shelter the wandering shepherds. Those plains, he says, are scarcely habitable in hot weather, from the pestilential effects of themalaria, which produces agues and fevers, and which probably arises from the exhalations of the low stagnant marshes. He also saw a vast number of goats; one flock consisted of twelve hundred, and though apparently very wild, they come regularly to their shepherds, twice a-day, to be milked, and are always rewarded with a little salt.

He afterwards visited the vale of Arno, and travelled along the right bank of that river, at the foot of the Apennines. He describes the forests of chesnut trees, which appeared on the higher slopes of the mountains, with their fresh and beautiful verdure, as forming a singular contrast with the pale blue tint of the olive trees, which cover the lower hills. The road was bordered on each side by pretty brick houses, consisting of a single story, and separated from the road by a walled terrace, on which are commonly placed stone vases, containing flowers or orange trees, or aloes; and the house itself completely covered with vines. At the doors, or seated on shady benches, were groups of young female peasants, nicely dressed in white linen, with silk bodice, and straw hats ornamented with flowers. They are constantly employed in plaiting straw for the fine Florence or Leghorn hats; and they earn a great deal of money, which they are permitted to lay by for their dower; but out of this they pay a certain allowance to poor women, who do their share of the farm work. He was assured that a crop of two acres would supply straw sufficient for the whole manufacture of hats in Tuscany. It is the stalk of beardless wheat, cut before it is quite ripe; and the poverty of the soil, which is never manured, keeps it white.

Between Pisa and the sea, he passed through a forest of ilex. The leaves of all these trees were bitten off at the same height—just twelve feet from the ground; and, on inquiry, he found that they had been eaten by camels. He soon after saw two hundred of these animals lying on the sand, waiting to return into the wood as the day became hotter. He was much amused by a group who rose up as he approached, and who, in trotting off with their young, bounded and leaped about with a vivacity which scarcely seemed to belong to their awkward-looking figure. It is said that this Asiatic race of camels was brought into Italy, at the time of the Crusades, by the Grand Prior of Pisa. Mr. L. says they do most of the farm labour.

On this plain he saw also a herd of nearly two thousand cattle. The cows are so wild and fierce, that it is impossible to milk them; andthey are killed by the torreadors with short lances, after a sort of hunt, which affords great diversion to the country people. These Tartar habits, he says, are very opposite to those of the vale of Arno, where every thing has been brought to the extreme of art and civilization.

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