I have been so much interested in all these circumstances, that I have sat up very late to write them for you; and though I have not got through half of them, I will now go to bed like a good girl. One word more: I must add that the shepherds in the neighbourhood of Rome, who resemble Tartars, with their long pikes and wrapped in mantles, come every evening with their flocks to seek an asylum within the walls of the city; as they dare not sleep exposed to the noxious air of the adjoining country, where there are no cottages, and where the water even is infected. They take possession of houses and palaces which have been abandoned by the inhabitants, who have been driven into the interior of the city by the malaria.
13th.—To-morrow is the last day of the visit of these charming Lumleys. I shall be very sorry to lose them, for I have liked them better every day. The second has the sweetest voice that can be, and joined in some of our glees, which she easily learned. Once or twice they sang all together for us, in the way they do athome; and, among other things, a beautiful little hymn, which we discovered was written by Mrs. L. If I can, I will send it to you and Marianne; and, perhaps, some time or other, we three may also sing it together. Oh! when will that time come?
Even now that I know their history, it is difficult to perceive in their appearance and manners that they have lived in such complete retirement, for they always express themselves in good language; and, though timid, they are not in the least awkward. Whatever they do, they do well. They are excellent arithmeticians, and answered some puzzling questions of my uncle’s with a facility that surprised him. The power of calculating in the head he thinks highly useful; and, on this occasion, he encouraged me to try with the rest, by shewing me how to seize upon the leading points of a question. At first I made no attempt, but spent the time, that others were at work, in thinking that I had no chance of success. Having at last, however, recovered from this silly fit, I exerted myself, and actually gave the first answers to the three following questions: though I will not say that some of the party did not good-naturedly wait a little for me. I send them to Marianne, though I know they will appear trifling to her, for she was always quicker at arithmetic than I was; but tell her the great thing is, to do them in her head.
How much time, in the course of thirty years, does a person gain, who rises at six o’clock in the morning, over another who sleeps till nine; supposing that the former goes to bed at eleven, and the latter at midnight?
There is a cistern in this house, which contains 180 gallons of water: it is supplied by a feeding pipe, which admits 15 gallons in ten minutes; and the tap, or discharging pipe, lets off 12 gallons in six minutes. Now suppose, when the cistern was exactly half full, that both cocks were opened, and that, at the end of an hour afterwards, the tap-cock was shut: in what time will the cistern be filled?
Herodotus mentions a brass vessel, that was shown in Scythia in his time, which was six digits in thickness, and contained 600amphoræ, or about 4300 gallons. It had been made of arrow points, collected by the king from his subjects, in order to ascertain their number—each individual being obliged to bring one. Such a vessel would be 11 or 12 feet in diameter; and, from the thickness of the metal, must have weighed about 71,000 pounds troy. Now, if each arrow point was half an ounce, the question is—Of how many fighting men could the Scythian monarch boast? for it is not probable that the women and children were included in that kind of warlike census.
My uncle was pleased at the efforts I made,even when I failed, because it shewed that I had conquered my old enemy—indolence.
I wrote down these questions while they were fresh in my mind; and then we all went to take our last walk together to Franklin’s farm. We found him and his active wife fixing on the situation of the house and garden, and orchard.
They have chosen a place where there is a pretty slope in the ground, so that the drains will have a good fall from the house. The garden is to be in front, and the orchard at one side. They are going to double-trench the ground, by digging it to twice the depth of the spade. It is to be left in that state during the winter; and the soil, being thus exposed to the action of air and frost, will be improved. In the course of the winter they will plant a young hedge round the garden.
This day was one of those lovely, mild, sunny days in October, of which I have often heard you speak.
When Autumn scatters his departing gleams.
When Autumn scatters his departing gleams.
When Autumn scatters his departing gleams.
We staid out till sunset, enjoying the balmy air and amusing ourselves capping verses. This we are all very fond of, and all strove hard for victory; but I must confess that Mary was most frequently the conqueror.
14th.—It has surprised every body how muchknowledge these Miss Lumleys have acquired; and yesterday, when we were out walking, my aunt expressed this surprise to Mrs. Lumley.
“Next to the great principles of religion and morality,” she replied, “we endeavoured from their infancy to give them habits ofexactness, which we have always found lead not only to regularity and economy of time, but become great preservatives of truth. On such a foundation it was not difficult to engraft the love of knowledge; and literature was always made an indulgence, not a task. After affectionately helping me in our many coarse and laborious works, they first sympathised in the pleasure they perceived I felt, when I had time to read a few pages of some interesting history or poem; and, from sympathy, they soon began to taste the pleasure themselves.”
They continued the conversation till dinnertime, and both seemed equally pleased at finding how exactly they agreed in their sentiments on education. In the evening, after some music, my aunt, who had been particularly gratified with the piety that appeared in every thing that had dropped from Mrs. Lumley, but who knew that very good people sometimes differed in opinion on trifling matters, said to her, “I should be inclined to play some lively tunes, and set our young people to dance; but I am not sure whether you approve of dancing, and in such aslight thing I would not offend opinions that I am sure deserve respect.”
“Indeed,” she replied, “I feel, just as you do, great pleasure in seeing young people cheerful, and enjoying amusements suited to their age; nor can I find in any part of that Book which should be our guide, one word to indicate the impropriety of social amusement—if moderately indulged in, and not made the business of life. Moderation, in all things, I do indeed enjoin. My daughters, I fear, can ill take a part in a dance with yours—but I shall be delighted to see my good, homely girls amused. I must add,” continued she, “that I should be sorry you mistook my opinions; misfortune has made me think seriously, but not harshly. It has given me deeper views of religion than I had in the careless hours of prosperity, but at the same time it has convinced me how much more there is of affected singularity than of real religion, in prohibiting a moderate degree of amusement. It is very probable that I might have become enthusiastic or melancholy, had it not been for the friendship of Mr. Benson, that good clergyman who lives near us. It is not too much to say, that in his conduct, as well as in his sentiments, he shews the happiest union of Christian piety with all the social virtues; and that his profound learning on the most important of all subjects,is embellished by the graces and knowledge of this world.”
My aunt then sat down to the piano-forte, and summoned us all to dance. Mr. L. and my uncle were so good as to join our party, and we danced very merrily for about an hour; and so ends our last night with these very engaging Lumleys.
MRS. LUMLEY’S HYMN.
Teach me, O God! to Thee my voice to raiseIn meek submission, and in humble praise;In all events, thy gracious will to see,In all misfortunes, to behold but Thee.To feel, in want and anguish, all thy love,The tender father’s discipline to own;To know that sorrow comes, my heart to prove,To feel the warning of thy awful frown.O! make me grateful, that I’m timely tried,And forced from earthly cares to love Thee, Lord!That, by thy chastisement, thus purified,I live in Thee, and in Thy holy word.As lightning clears the sky, by clouds o’ercast,So shall adversity my heart revive;When worldly joy is gone, and sorrow past,My humbled heart in faith and hope shall live.The sun behind our western hills declines,But gilds the evening clouds with golden ray:Thus when the morn of life no longer shines,Still Christian hope illumes our fading day.And as the rising sun dispels the night,So shall we wake with joy in Gospel light.
Teach me, O God! to Thee my voice to raiseIn meek submission, and in humble praise;In all events, thy gracious will to see,In all misfortunes, to behold but Thee.To feel, in want and anguish, all thy love,The tender father’s discipline to own;To know that sorrow comes, my heart to prove,To feel the warning of thy awful frown.O! make me grateful, that I’m timely tried,And forced from earthly cares to love Thee, Lord!That, by thy chastisement, thus purified,I live in Thee, and in Thy holy word.As lightning clears the sky, by clouds o’ercast,So shall adversity my heart revive;When worldly joy is gone, and sorrow past,My humbled heart in faith and hope shall live.The sun behind our western hills declines,But gilds the evening clouds with golden ray:Thus when the morn of life no longer shines,Still Christian hope illumes our fading day.And as the rising sun dispels the night,So shall we wake with joy in Gospel light.
Teach me, O God! to Thee my voice to raiseIn meek submission, and in humble praise;In all events, thy gracious will to see,In all misfortunes, to behold but Thee.
To feel, in want and anguish, all thy love,The tender father’s discipline to own;To know that sorrow comes, my heart to prove,To feel the warning of thy awful frown.
O! make me grateful, that I’m timely tried,And forced from earthly cares to love Thee, Lord!That, by thy chastisement, thus purified,I live in Thee, and in Thy holy word.
As lightning clears the sky, by clouds o’ercast,So shall adversity my heart revive;When worldly joy is gone, and sorrow past,My humbled heart in faith and hope shall live.
The sun behind our western hills declines,But gilds the evening clouds with golden ray:Thus when the morn of life no longer shines,Still Christian hope illumes our fading day.And as the rising sun dispels the night,So shall we wake with joy in Gospel light.
15th.—Mr. Lumley said the other day, that the inhabitants of the Apennines were like the people of Auvergne in their manners; so I tookan opportunity this morning of asking my aunt some questions about them. She told me, that Auvergne has been very little known till lately; even the remarkable fact, that the whole district is a collection of extinct volcanoes, has not been very long discovered. It has been visited by few travellers, and the people seem to have had but little intercourse with their neighbours. Bakewell’s Travels were in the room, and she gave me the following passages to read.
“It was market day, and we met a long train of carts with wood, each drawn by four oxen, coming to Clermont. The dress and appearance of the mountaineers who were conducting the carts, were very striking; with immense broad-brimmed hats, long, lank hair, gaunt features, and striped cloth cloaks, that reached nearly to their feet, they bore no resemblance to Frenchmen, and they spoke a different language. I believe they are the descendants from the same race who resisted Cæsar, for whatever changes may have taken place in other parts of France, none of the warlike hordes who ravaged the more fertile parts of the country in succeeding ages, would have wished to take possession of the sterile mountains of Auvergne, or to undertake the task of driving out the original inhabitants. I was much surprised, on entering some of the houses, to observe that the lamps, waterpots, and other earthenware vessels, wereof the same form as the Etruscan vessels from Herculaneum; they are doubtless made after models transmitted from very remote antiquity, as vessels of these forms are not found in any other parts of France that I have visited. The music of the Auvergnats is the bagpipe.
“Many of the families in the lower or middle rank of life, have small vineyards, and make wine for their own use. A freehold vineyard, which costs two hundred francs, or about eight pounds sterling, produced wine, more than sufficient for a family of five persons, as we were informed by one of these little proprietors. They cultivate the vineyards themselves; and seem to live in contented and obscure independence, relying on their own industry for every thing, and preserving the customs of their remote ancestors.”
16th.Sunday.—The history of our first parents, and the nature of their transgression, was the subject of our conversation this morning. Towards the end of it, my uncle said, “It is a strange error, though some sensible people seem to have fallen into it, to doubt the truth of this early part of sacred history, because the eating of a certain fruit was apparently too trifling to be considered a trial of obedience. But there is one circumstance which they do not seem to have sufficiently considered; that, if it was necessary to lay Adam under some small restraint, to remind him, that notwithstanding his dominion over all things, he was still the servant of the Most High; a trial of his obedience to anymoralprecepts could scarcely have been made, for there was no opportunity at that time of violating them. For instance, there was nothing to tempt him to idolatry, when every recent circumstance must have carried with it a conviction of the single power of the Almighty; and when the impression of the Creator’s beneficent agency was kept alive by the frequent visits of his glorious presence. Highly favoured creatures, the voice of their God was a sound familiar to their ears!
“As there were no other inhabitants in the world, it was impossible to steal, murder, covet, or commit any crime against society. It had been, therefore, vain indeed, to forbid that which could not be done. There could be no virtue in abstaining from crimes to which there was no temptation. But there would have been virtue in submitting to the commands of God, who required only this simple abstinence, in token of their subjection; and no matter how small the trial, it was their part to have obeyed. It pleases God to try our virtue sometimes with very small temptations, and the weakness with which we transgress in the least things, may convince us that we are not very capable of resisting great temptations.
“Insignificant creatures that we are, with narrow views and limited perceptions; we are always ready to arraign the decrees of the Supreme Disposer of all, and to wonder why things are not otherwise. I have read a good remark, made by Philo a learned Jew, which may apply to this presumptuous disposition of mankind. In treating of the plagues of Egypt, he says, ‘Some inquire why God punished the country by such minute and contemptible animals, as flies and frogs, rather than by lions, leopards, or other savage beasts that prey on man. But let them reflect, that God chose rather to correct, than to destroy the inhabitants—if he had desired to annihilate them utterly, he had no need to have made use of any auxiliaries. Let them remember, also, that when God—the source of all power—who stands in need of no assistance, chooses to employ instruments, as it were, to inflict chastisement; instead of the strongest, he selects the mean and the despicable—but which, in his service, are endowed with irresistible force.’”
17th.—As my uncle saw how much I was interested about the Laplanders, and their reindeer, he was so good as to read to us, last night, an account of them, from De Capell Brooke’s travels, a very entertaining book, which has been lately published. I will transcribe a little of it here, as I know Marianne will like to see it.
“My landlord having received intelligencethat the Laplanders, with their reindeer, were within a mile of Fugleness, I was anxious to avail myself of the opportunity of seeing them. After an hour’s walk, we found the tent and its owner, Per Mathison; and inside the tent, into which we crept, Marit, his wife, was busy preparing the utensils for milking the deer, and making the cheese. She was not more than four feet nine inches high, and of a brown complexion, which seemed more the result of habitual dirt, and of living constantly in smoke, than of nature. She had on her summer dress of dirty white cloth, girt round by a belt, to which was suspended a small knife; and herkomagers, or shoes, were of strong leather, forming a peak at the toes. On her head she wore a high cap, made partly of cloth, and partly of bits of coloured calico. This cap is peculiar to the Norwegian Lapland, and is rather elegant in its shape. Though wild and uncouth, her manners did not betray the surliness so conspicuous in her husband. The latter was dressed in reindeer fawn skins, which, being thin and pliable, were not likely to be too warm.
“Another Laplander and his wife lived in the same tent. This man seemed to be a partner of Per Mathison; their deer were mixed together, but the superior number belonged to the latter, and he was evidently head of the family, which was easily perceived, from his idleness andinactivity, mixed with a kind of gruff independence, that bespoke a laird of the mountains. He had, for the last two summers, brought his herd of deer to the mountains of Whale Island, from the interior of Norwegian Lapland—a distance of more than two hundred miles. Here he remained between two and three months; and, before the approach of winter, again returned to his native forests.
“In about two hours, the distant barking of the dogs indicated the coming of the deer, which we at last discerned winding slowly along the mountains, at the distance of near a mile, appearing like a black moving mass. They now approached the fold, which was a large space that had been cleared of the brushwood, and inclosed by branches of dwarf birch and aspen, stuck around to prevent the deer from straying. As the herd came up to it, the deer made frequent snortings; and a loud crackling was heard, produced by their divided hoofs striking against each other. These animals, being endued with an exquisite sense of smelling, soon perceived there were strangers near; and our appearance, so different from the dress of the Laplanders to which they had been accustomed, alarmed them to such a degree, that it was necessary for us to retire till they had entered the fold. After some difficulty, the whole herd were at length collected within the circle; andthe women, bringing their bowls from the tent, began the operation of milking, which, as some hundreds of deer were assembled, was likely to take up a considerable time. In this both the men and women were busily employed. Before each deer was milked, a cord with a noose was thrown round the horns, by which it was secured and kept steady. The Laplanders are extremely expert at this; and it was surprising to see the exactness with which the noose was thrown from a distance; hardly ever failing to light upon the horns of the deer for which it was intended, though in the thickest of the herd. The cord for this purpose was made of the fibres of the birch, very neatly plaited together, and exceedingly strong. During the short time the animal was milking, this cord was either held by one of the women, or made fast to a birch shrub; some of the thickest having been stripped of their leaves, and left standing for this purpose. Many of the deer, instead of being tractable, as I had imagined, were very refractory, frequently even throwing the women down, and hurting them with their horns. They seemed very little to mind this; but, strong as the Laplanders are, they appeared to have little power over these animals, for when one had the cord round its horns, and refused to be milked, it dragged the holder with ease round the fold. The quantity of milk that each deer gave scarcely exceeded a tea-cup full; but it was extremely luscious, of a fine aromatic flavour, and richer than cream. Of this we eagerly partook, after we had permission; which, however, Per Mathison did not at first seem willing to grant, but his sullen nature was soon softened by brandy.
“In the middle of the herd of deer, suspended to the branches of a low birch, was a child about a year old, enclosed in a kind of cradle, or case covered with leather. The Laplanders, when obliged to go any distance from their tents, frequently leave their children thus suspended on a tree, by which they are secured from the attack of any ravenous animal.
“It was past midnight before the whole of the herd was milked. The sun had left the heavens about an hour, but a deep orange tint, on the verge of the horizon, shewed that it was not far below it. The deer were at length turned out from the fold; and, spreading themselves along the sides of the mountains, were quickly lost to our view. The Laplanders now collecting the milk, which amounted to a considerable quantity, proceeded with it to the tent, inviting us to supper. We crept in, and seated ourselves on reindeer skins, which were strewed on the ground. The business of making cheese now commenced: and Marit, emptying the milk from the bowls into a large iron pot, placed it over a fire, in the centre ofthe tent, the smoke of which annoyed us much. In a short time, the milk assumed the appearance of curd; and, being taken off, was placed in small moulds, made of beech wood, and pressed together. The number of cheeses thus made amounted to about eight, of the size of a common plate, and barely an inch in thickness. The whey and curds that remained were for our supper, though the dirty habits of the people much diminished my appetite.
“After supper was finished, and the bowls and other utensils removed to a corner of the tent, fresh wood was placed on the fire, which again enveloped us in smoke. On its burning up, the flames reached the cheeses, which had been placed on a board directly over the fire, that the smoke might harden them. Their richness and the heat caused large drops of oil to trickle from them, which the men licked up with evident relish.
“The whole group was a curious one. Opposite to us, around the fire, were the uncouth figures of the Laplanders, squatting on their haunches. In one corner were two children asleep in deer-skins; and more than twenty small dogs were also reposing about us. It was soon time for the men to commence their nightly employment of watching the deer, and accordingly one of them left the tent. On making a signal, about half the dogs, whose turn it was tocommence the watch, started suddenly up, and followed their master to the mountains. I was greatly surprised to find the rest take no notice of the summons, and remain quietly stretched on their deer-skins, well aware, singular as it may seem, that it was not their turn.”
18th.—Mary is reading Waddington’s Visit to Ethiopia and Dongola, and she shewed me an account in it of themirage, that most curious deception of the sight.
In crossing the immense sandy plain near Askán, in Dongola, Mr. W. says they had a good view of the mirage. It assumed at first the appearance of a broad winding stream, which he mistook for the Nile. It then changed rather suddenly from a river to a sea, covering the whole of the horizon in front of the party; while castles, trees, and rocks seemed to stand in the middle of the water, in which those objects were most distinctly reflected. The apparent distance of the nearest part was continually changing from one quarter to three quarters of a mile.
At Bakkil Mr. W. saw another beautiful mirage; and he remarks that the two or three places where he had seen this phenomenon in the greatest perfection, were peculiarly frequented by the antelope, as if she loved the banks of that fairy sea, and delighted to gaze upon its fugitive waters. It is a singular coincidencewith this observation, that the mirage is called by the Arabs of the Desert,—the lake of the gazelles.
I was anxious to learn something further on this curious subject, and not knowing what books to consult, I applied to my uncle. He tells me that a species of mirage is very common at sea; distant ships seem grotesquely caricatured by it either in length or in height; and sometimes, over the real vessel, an inverted picture of it appears suspended in the sky, with the masts of each prolonged, so as to unite. A similar effect was observed in the desert by the French, in their Egyptian expedition; the villages appearing distorted, or raised above their natural level, or as if built on an island in the middle of a lake. As they approached, the apparent surface of the water became narrower and narrower, till it disappeared; and the same deceptive appearance began again at the next village. But all travellers through sandy plains, in hot climates, mention this kind of optical deception, and particularly that of its having the appearance of water. Some of them, after having travelled for hours in a burning desert, faint and exhausted, have had their spirits revived by the sight of water, and have eagerly pushed on to refresh themselves and their poor camels; you may judge of their disappointment when they perceived that it was all illusion.
Another very remarkable instance of mirage, my uncle says, has been more than once seen at Reggio, in the straits of Messina, where it is called the Fata Morgana. When the rays of the sun form an angle of about 45° with the sea, and that the bright surface of the water in the bay is not disturbed by wind or current, if the spectator be placed with his back to the sun, there suddenly appears on the water the most incomprehensible variety of objects—pilasters, arches, and castles, lofty towers and extensive palaces, with all their balconies and windows—or perhaps trees, vallies, and plains, with their herds and flocks—armies of men, on foot and on horseback, and many other strange objects; all in their natural colours, and all in action, passing rapidly in succession along the surface of the sea. But if, besides the circumstances before described, the atmosphere happens to be loaded with a dense vapour, which the sun had not previously dispersed, the observer will behold a representation of the same objects in the air, as if traced there on a curtain; though not so distinct or well defined as those on the sea. These curious appearances were fancifully called by the Italians, the castles of the Fairy Morgana.
My uncle says that the celebrated Dr. Wollaston has proved, by some very ingenious experiments, that they arise from the irregular refraction of the rays of light, in passing throughcontiguous portions of air, of different densities. One of these experiments he was so good as to shew us; and as it is so simple, that Marianne can easily try it, I will endeavour to describe it here.
He put a little clear syrup into a square phial, and then poured about an equal quantity of water into it, over the syrup. The phial was set on the table, and having placed a printed card about an inch behind it, he made us observe that when we looked through the syrup, or through the water, the letters on the card appearederect; but, that when they were seen through that part where the two fluids were gradually mixing together, the letters were equally distinct, butinverted. A similar effect, he said, may be produced with hot and cold water, or even by two portions of cold and heated air; and to shew us this, he performed another very easy experiment. He placed two of the library chairs back to back, and about a foot apart; he connected the tops of the chairs with two bits of strong wire, and on the wires he laid the kitchen poker, the square end of which he had made red hot. Exactly in the direction of the poker he pinned a large printed A upon the wall, which was about ten feet distant; and then desired us to look at it along the heated poker. We did so, and we all distinctly saw three images of the A, themiddle one being inverted, and the two others erect.
Dear mamma, how this reminded me of the day when you first explained to us the meaning ofrefraction, and shewed us the pretty little experiment of the stick, which appeared to bend just at the surface of the water. How often I now feel the benefit of all your patient instruction, and how often I wish I had your excellent memory, which enabled you to teach us so many things, without having any books to assist you!
20th.—My cousins like Eastern tales just as much as I do—and my uncle speaks of the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments as if he was still a boy. He thinks that they are not only very ingenious, but that many of the apparent wonders, which are related as supernatural, may be easily explained, by means of the chemical and philosophical knowledge which is too generally supposed to be the result of late discoveries. I should like to read over all my favourite tales with him, for the benefit of his explanations. What brought them into my mind now, was a pretty little anecdote which I once heard him tell Grace, and which she has just been repeating to me.
In Khorasân, there was a certain old caravanserai, called Zafferounee, which was once sovery extensive, as to contain seventeen hundred chambers, besides baths and shops, and besides accommodation for thousands of cattle within its walls. It is said to have been erected by one of those wealthy Eastern merchants, who delighted in perpetuating their names by acts of public utility. While it was building, and a large quantity of straw and clay were mixing up for that purpose on the road near it, a cafilah, consisting of a hundred camels, loaded with saffron, chanced to pass; and one of them, slipping into the clay, fell, and was disabled. Their owner inveighed bitterly against those who by so carelessly doing their work on the public road, had occasioned such a serious loss to him. The merchant, who was himself superintending the progress of the building, on hearing these complaints, inquired what might be the value not only of the camel, which had been disabled, but of all the rest; and purchasing the whole on the spot, ordered the saffron to be tumbled into the clay, and worked up with it, instead of chopped straw. It was from this that the caravanserai obtained the name of Zafferounee, or Saffron.
This rich merchant, however, fell afterwards into difficulties, as might have been expected, from his extravagance, and at last became a beggar. Travelling in search of subsistence, into foreign countries, he happened to visit the place where the camel-driver, now grown immenselyrich, lived in splendour. It came to the ears of the latter, that a stranger, in poverty, who spoke of his former riches in Khorasân, was living wretchedly in the town; and suspecting that this might be his old benefactor, he invited him to his house; and after feasting him superbly, induced him to relate his history: when, in concluding it, the unhappy Khorasânee described his destitute condition, the other interrupted him, saying, “How can you call yourself poor, when you are, in reality, a man possessed of great riches?” “Ah! no,” replied the other; “once, indeed, I had much wealth, but all is gone; and I am now a beggar!” On this his host carried him to a secret chamber, which was full of money—“This,” said he, “is all yours; it is the price of the saffron which you so liberally purchased from me: I have traded upon it and become rich, but the original sum I have always reserved as belonging to you; take it now, and live happily.”
Grace is always encouraged to repeat to others the little stories which are told to her: I wish you could have heard her relating this to us before tea.
22d.—Well, I am in actual possession of the old quarry. Having settled all my plans, I at once set to work, and my uncle was so good as to let me have one of the workmen to help me, because he said my ideas were rational. The openingof the quarry fronts the south-west; the rock at the back is high and steep, and a spring, which trickles from it, keeps the part which had been most deeply worked constantly full of water. In this I have put several pretty water-plants—Mr. Biggs, I know, lays a quantity of peat compost in his pond; but though I have not been able to obtain that yet, I have planted the white and the yellow water lily, which the gardener found for me a few miles off. A thick skreen of shrubs has been planted by my uncle’s directions, above the rocks to the north, but no forest trees, for in a short time they would outgrow the place which they ornament only while young.
The middle and southern parts of the quarry are to be sloped and dressed; all the briars have been already taken out, and the loose splinters of the quarry are spread on the surface of the bank. Upon these, the gardener has laid a mixture of peat earth and sand, which he had to spare; and here I intend to have an incomparable bed of strawberries.
South of these, and where the rocky bank sinks, I am filling up the hollow and uneven spots with the same mixture and rotten leaves; for Mr. Biggs says that the natural soil of the beautiful North American shrubs is chiefly formed of decayed vegetables.
Groups ofrhododendron,azalea,kalmia, andmany more, which, as I have learnt from that delightful book, Miller’s dictionary, are suited to that soil and aspect, are to flourish there; and by Mary’s advice, they are to be mixed with some of the Scotch roses. These are rather scarce here; but Mr. Biggs has been so generous as to send me a small piece of the root of each of his own rose bushes. There are a few fibres on them, and he assures me they will sprout in spring—so it will be a good experiment at least. I shall also have a little grass plat, with a few small beds for choice flowers, which I expect will blossom very early in this little snug spot.
I have planted some of thelobelia fulgens, and ahydrangea, which is a native of marshy ground, near the edge of the pond—and when spring comes, I hope to execute many other grand plans which I have formed, from hearing Mr. Biggs. My cousins approve of them, and all help me, and Mary wonders she never thought of adorning the old quarry before.
I am now very busy in making a bed forixia,gladiolis,lachenalia, andoxalis—they are usually in a greenhouse, but I hear that, if planted late in October, in a soil composed of peat earth, and sharp sand, and over this, if a layer of peat, eight inches thick, be laid, to prevent the frost from reaching them, they will be in beautiful blossom in spring. I will try this—my uncleencourages experiment; he says it is the high road to truth—and he assists all who wish to travel on it.
23rd.,Sunday.—I asked my uncle this morning to tell me the meaning of Noah’s prediction, “God shall enlarge Japhet, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem.” In reply, he told us the opinions of a very learned person, for whose writings he has a high respect; and I will endeavour to give you the substance of what he said.
“The most obvious meaning of the expression is, that Providence would bless Japhet with a numerous progeny, which should not only spread over an ample tract of country, but that they would afterwards encroach on the territory of Shem’s descendants. And this sense of the words is supported by history; for the whole of Europe, and a considerable part of Asia, was originally peopled, and has been always occupied, by Japhet’s offspring, who, not contented with their own possessions, have repeatedly made encroachments on the sons of Shem; as, for instance, when Alexander the Great, with an European army, attacked and overthrew the Persian monarchy; when the Romans subjected a great part of the East; and still more, when the Tartar conquerors of the race of Genghis Khan destroyed the empire of the Caliphs, took possession of their country, and made settlementsin all parts of Asia. Tamerlane also led his Moguls, who were another branch of Japhet’s progeny, into Hindostan; and their descendants gradually obtained possession of that immense country, a part of Shem’s original inheritance. These events, and others of the same nature, may be considered as the accomplishment of that prophecy; not only because they answer to the natural import of its terms, but because they have had great influence on the state of true religion in various parts of the world; so that in this interpretation we find the two circumstances which are the characteristics of a true interpretation,—an agreement with the facts recorded in history, and a connection of the particular prediction with the general system of the prophetic word.
“It would seem, however, that some amicable intercourse between parts of those two great families is implied by the expression, ‘Japhet’s dwelling in the tents of Shem’; for the settlements made by the Portuguese, English, Dutch, and French in different parts of India, which was a part of Shem’s inheritance, may be taken in this sense. And consequences cannot but arise of great importance, from such numerous and extensive settlements of Christians, in countries where the light of the Gospel has been for ages extinguished.
“There is still a third sense: but in order tomake it more apparent, it will be proper to consider the precise meaning of Shem’s blessing—a blessing obliquely conveyed in this emphatic ejaculation, ‘Blessed be Jehovah, the God of Shem!’ This evidently implied that Jehovah was to be more peculiarly the God of Shem; and in the same sense that he afterwards vouchsafed to call himself the God of one branch of Shem’s progeny—of Abraham, Isaac, and of Jacob, and of their descendants the Jewish people. Although the universal Father of all the nations of the earth, he may be said to have more particularly adopted the descendants of Shem, in choosing them to be the depositaries of the true religion, while the rest of mankind were sunk in idolatry and ignorance. Among them he preserved the knowledge and worship of himself, by a series of miraculous dispensations; to them he confided the representative priesthood, the type of the Messiah; and when the destined season came, he raised the Messiah himself from among the offspring of that chosen family.
“But the expression, ‘the tents (or tabernacles) of Shem,’ alludes to the Jewish tabernacle, which was one of the external means of preserving the worship of the true God. The word in Hebrew is the same for both tent and tabernacle. This holy tent was Shem’s tabernacle, because it was entrusted to his descendants, and because none but them might bear a part inits sacred service. Now this tabernacle, and this service, were undoubtedly emblems of the Christian church and Christian worship. It appears, then, that in the mention of the tents of Shem, Noah was inspired to make allusion to the Jewish tabernacle, as the symbol of the Christian dispensation; and that the dwelling of Japhet in those tents of Shem, took place when the idolatrous nations of Japhet’s line became converted to the faith of Christ, and worshipped the God of Shem in Shem’s tabernacles; that is, worshipped God in the truth and spirit of revealed religion.
“This prediction, therefore, bears directly upon the general object of all the prophecies—the union of all nations in the faith of Christ. And the fact is notorious, that the Gospel has, from the beginning to the present time, made the greatest progress in Europe, where the early and wide-spreading conversions of the idolaters of Japhet’s line (among whom were our own ancestors) soon led to encroachments on the territory of Shem.
“How grateful should we be,” my uncle added, “to those learned men who thus elucidate the difficult passages in Scripture, and shew the beautiful harmony of the whole prophetic system!”
24th.—I am reading “Bartram’s Travels inNorth America.” It is not a late publication, but very interesting to me, as I like to compare the productions of North and South America.
Among all the beautiful trees of our Southern regions, I do not recollect having seen or heard of the deciduous cypress, the majestic grandeur of which, he says, is surprising. It generally grows in low flat grounds, that are covered, part of the year, with water. The lower part of the stem, which is frequently under water, enlarges into prodigious buttresses; and they project on every side to such a distance, that several men might hide in the recesses between them. The stem is generally hollow as high as the buttresses reach, where it forms, as it were, another beginning, and rises, in a straight uninterrupted column, to the height of 80 or 90 feet. There it throws out its noble branches like an umbrella; eagles securely build their nests in them; they are the abode of hundreds of parroquets, who delight in shelling the seeds; and even the hollow stem is not untenanted, as it affords spacious apartments for the wild bees.
The trunks supply excellent timber; and, when hollowed out, make large and durable canoes. When the planters fell these mighty trees, they erect a high stage round them, so as to reach above the buttresses; and on these stages eight or ten men can work together, with their axes.
Another curious fact which I found in thisbook is, that the inhabitants of East Florida prepare, from the root of the China briar, a very agreeable sort of jelly, which they callconti. They chop the root in pieces, which are afterwards pounded in a wooden mortar; and, when washed and strained, the sediment that settles to the bottom dries into a reddish flour. A small quantity of this, mixed with warm water and sweetened with honey, becomes a delicious jelly, when cool; or, mixed with corn flour and fried in fresh bear’s oil, it makes very nice cakes.
26th.—I have just found, in “Bartram’s Travels,” some particulars that I do not think we knew before, of that curious species of theTillandsia, commonly called long moss.
It grows on all trees in the southern regions of North America; and any part of the living plant, torn off and caught on the branches of another tree, immediately takes root. Wherever it fixes, it spreads into long pendent filaments, which subdivide themselves in an endless manner, waving in the wind like streamers, to the length of twenty feet. It is common to find the spaces between the boughs of large trees entirely occupied by masses of this plant, which, in bulk and weight, would require several men to carry. In some places, cart loads of it are found lying on the ground, torn off by the violence of the wind. When fresh, cattle and deer eat it in thewinter season; and when dry, it is employed for stuffing chairs, saddles, and beds; but to prepare it properly for these purposes, it is thrown into shallow ponds of water, where the outside furry substance soon decays: it is then taken out of the water and spread in the sun; and, after a little beating, nothing remains but a hard, black, elastic filament, resembling horse-hair.
There is a curious anecdote about the name of this plant, in “Harry and Lucy concluded;” but I need not mention it here, because my uncle has sent that delightful little book to you, and I am sure Marianne will have run through it with as much eagerness as I did.
28th.—I have just found some more instances of those strange optical deceptions, which seem to be of the same nature as the Fata Morgana. My aunt thinks that the term mirage only applies to the deceitful waters of the desert.
Mr. Dalby writes in the Philosophical Transactions that, ascending a hill in the Isle of Wight, he observed that the top of another hill, of about the same level, seemed to dance up and down as he advanced; and on bringing his eye down to within two feet of the ground, the top of the hill appeared totally detached, or lifted up from the lower part, the sky being seen under it. This he repeatedly observed; and he adds, that as the sun was rather warm for the season, with aheavy dew, there was a great deal of evaporation going on.
Another very singular example of these extraordinary appearances in the atmosphere, is given by Dr. Buchan. Walking on the cliff, about a mile east of Brighton, in the latter end of November, just as the sun was rising, he saw the face of the cliff on which he was standing represented precisely opposite to him, at some distance in the sea; and both he and his companion perceived their own figures standing on the summit of the apparent cliff, as well as the picture of a windmill near them. This phenomenon lasted about ten minutes, when it seemed to be elevated into the air, and to be gradually dissipated; and he remarks, that the surface of the sea was covered with a dense fog many yards in height, which slowly receded before the sun’s rays.
How frequently it happens, when the curiosity has been awakened by any new subject, that chance leads one to some circumstance in books, or conversation, that exactly applies to it! By mere accident, I opened Scoresby’s voyage at the following passage, which I have just time to transcribe.
After describing the amusing spectacle of some distant ships, which were either curiously distorted, or inverted in the air, by means of this wonderful kind of refraction, he says, “When looking through the telescope, the coasts of ice,or rock, had often the appearance of the remains of an ancient city, abounding with the ruins of castles, churches, and monuments, with other large and conspicuous buildings. The hills often appear to be surmounted with turrets, battlements, spires, and pinnacles, while others, subjected to another kind of refraction, seem to be large masses of rock, suspended in the air, at a considerable elevation above the actual terminations of the mountains to which they refer. The whole exhibition is a grand and majestic phantasmagoria; scarcely is the appearance of any object fully examined and determined, before it changes to something else; it is perhaps alternately a castle, a cathedral, or an obelisk,—and then expanding and coalescing with the adjoining mountains, it unites the intermediate vallies, though they may be miles in width, by a bridge of a single arch, of the most magnificent appearance.”
29th.—We have been visiting Franklin’s farm to-day, and have had a very pleasant walk, late as it is in the year. He is so diligent, that he has done a great deal to it since we were last there. Between it and the next land he has made a ditch, with a high firm fence of flat stones placed edgeways, in three rows, each row sloping a little, and all supported by a bank of earth behind them;between the two upper rows of stones, he has planted quick-thorns, and on the top of the bank a few young oak and elm trees. The deep ditch will serve to carry off the water from some drains that are to be made in a part of the ground which is wet and marshy. These drains are to be covered with earth; and something must be done to keep them from filling up. Some people line them with stone, but that is too expensive; and as he has just clipped some of his hedges, he intends, I believe, to put the branches of the thorn-bushes into the bottom of the drains, which will also prevent the sides from falling in.
Springs are formed in the bosom of the earth, my uncle says, by the rain water which sinks through the surface, and which, gently oozing, orpercolating, as he calls it, through the sand or gravel, or through other porous strata, continues to descend till it is intercepted by some bed of clay or rock. No longer being able to descend, it follows the course of this impassable bed, and if thus conducted to the outside of the ground, lower down the hill, it forms then a spring. But if prevented by any obstacle from flowing freely out of the ground, it diffuses itself under the surface, and produces swamps and marshes. My uncle has been of great use to Franklin, not only by teaching him how to discover from the form of the ground where it ismost likely to meet with andtapthese concealed springs, but by laying out the drains for him with a levelling instrument, so that they should have sufficient fall into the main ditch, or into a little rivulet which skirts his farm. I could not have conceived that science might be made so useful even in common agriculture.
Franklin is also ploughing a field for wheat—and is going afterwards to plough up another field that looks all rough and ugly—but which is to be left unsown the whole winter; he intends to plough it two or three times, and then in Spring, after it has lain fallow in this way, he will sow it with barley. Another grand operation is the preparing a piece of ground for an orchard; my uncle has promised him some nice young fruit-trees for it; and Franklin, very prudently, brought over some American apple-trees, which he says are very productive.
The blind basket-maker sometimes walks to the farm with the assistance of Bessy’s arm; and it is impossible to see the happiness of the whole family without feeling the strongest interest in their welfare. She now looks quite blooming and healthy; and she is so industrious that besides her in-door occupations, she has persuaded her husband to give her an acre of ground for flax, with which she hopes to do a great deal. This will be a very uncommon crop in thiscountry, but I am sure, from what my uncle says, that it will be very profitable.
30th.,Sunday.—We had a conversation this morning on the character of Joseph, which my uncle thinks a fine example of all the Christian virtues. “If we follow him,” said my uncle, “from his youth to the height of his preferment, we see him, in every part of his life, virtuous and religious; patient and courageous under misfortune; modest and temperate in the greatest success. He suffered injustice from his master who imprisoned him, though he had been just and faithful; but under this great trial he had the comfort of knowing that he was innocent. He had the still greater comfort of confiding in the support of God, who, in his own good time, delivered him from prison, and permitted him to be raised to a high situation, where his integrity might be made manifest. Then, if we consider his generous forbearance towards his brethren, how highly does it raise our admiration of his truly amiable disposition! When they were in his power—in just resentment of their former cruelty, he thought it right to mortify and humble them—but no sooner did he see that they were penitent, than his anger ceased.—And when he discovered himself to them, with what kindness and magnanimity he endeavoured to make them less dissatisfied with their former conduct!
“‘Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you to preserve life: to preserve you a posterity in the earth. So now it was not you that sent me hither, but God.’
“Can any thing be more touching,” added my uncle, “than his generous anxiety to make his brethren forgive themselves, by shewing the advantages that were ultimately produced by their conduct to him?”
“There is one thing,” said Wentworth, “that I do not understand—why does Joseph say there shall be neither earing nor harvest, as if he meant two separate things?”
“The wordearing,” replied my uncle, “sounds as if it meant gathering ripe ears of corn: but it is an old English term for ploughing, and is used in that sense in two other parts of scripture.”
“I had imagined,” said Caroline, “that earing was mentioned in that particular manner, in allusion to some blight, through which the corn should no longer give such an astonishing produce as seven ears to one stalk.”
“No;” said my uncle, “nor was that an unusual produce. A species of wheat still grows in Egypt, which generally bears this number of ears, and the stem is solid, that is, full of pith, in order to support so great a weight. The stem of our own wheat is, you know, a mere hollow straw. You see how necessary it is, my dearchildren, when you do not perfectly understand what you read or hear, to have courage enough to confess your ignorance, and to ask for explanation.
“Before we finish the subject of Joseph,” he continued, “I will explain another small circumstance, of which perhaps Bertha at least may not be aware. The ancient manner of eating was for each person to have one or more dishes to himself; they were all first set before the master of the feast, who distributed to every one his portion; and as a mark of affection for Benjamin, Joseph sent him five dishes, while he only sent one to each of the others. In Persia and Arabia, every dish that is set before the master of the house is divided into as many portions as there are guests, but those of the greatest rank have by far the largest shares.”
31st.—Mr. R——, a friend of my uncle’s, has been here for a few days, and has amused us very much.
Yesterday he shewed us a Proteus kind of substance; it had at first a milky transparency, and reflected a bluish white light, but when we looked through it, it was yellow. He slightly wetted it, and then it lost all transparency, appearing like chalk. He immersed it completely in water, and the edges became more transparent than before, and at the same time a little gasseemed to escape from it. A small white ball appeared in the centre, but it gradually diminished in size, and the transparency extended through the whole mass.
He afterwards put some of this substance into oils of different colours—the colours it quickly acquired—and when it had completely absorbed the oil it became transparent, but when partially it was opaque. When steeped in oil, coloured with alkanet-root, it had quite the tints of the ruby; from a preparation of copper it imbibed the colour of the emerald; and from some acid exactly that of a Brazilian topaz. He then shewed us that all these brilliant colours could be discharged along with the oil, by exposing the substance to a strong heat.
Fortunately for us, when Mr. R. called here he was on his way home from London, where he had provided himself with these curiosities, and he was so good-natured as to unpack some of his treasures for our gratification.
I was much surprised at these cameleon-like changes; and at last I learned that this substance is thetabasheer, of which I had read something before. It is found in the cavities of the bamboo; while the plants are young, it is fluid, but as they advance in size it hardens. Mr. R. shewed us three specimens; the first was almost transparent, and so tender, that in carelessly taking it up, I crushed it. He was sokind as to say it did not signify, as he had some more; but I determined in future to see without the help of my fingers, as you have often advised me, dear mamma. The second piece was harder and more opaque, having only a little transparency at the edges. The third specimen was perfectly opaque, and looked like a bit of stucco; it was on this piece that he shewed us the curious experiments I have mentioned.
Mr. R. endeavoured to make us comprehend the causes of all those changes which have appeared so contradictory. “In the first place,” said he, “tabasheer is a remarkably porous substance; now if one of the pores be filled with air, a ray of light in passing through it suffers very little refraction, and is therefore so little scattered, that the tabasheer appears transparent, and objects can be partly seen through it. This arises from the small difference between the refractive power of air and of tabasheer. Next,” said he, “suppose a very small quantity of water introduced into this pore, so as not to fill it, but merely to line it with a film; then the light, in passing through the tabasheer, the film of water, the air within, the film again, and lastly the tabasheer, is so much scattered by these six refractions, that the substance appears opaque. But when by complete immersion the pores are filled with water, the multiplied refractions caused by the films and the portions of airwithin, cease, and the light is more freely transmitted.”
My uncle and Mr. R. talked a long time on the subject, and tried several other experiments, explaining to us the reasons for each step they took; but I have said enough to shew you that I endeavoured to understand what they were doing, and this I am sure will give you pleasure. Indeed the advantages of being able to comprehend something of the conversation of such people is so great, that I cannot sufficiently thank you for having given me a little taste for science. You used to say that there was great danger of making girls conceited by giving them a smattering of science; but I assure you that I shall keep a careful watch over myself in that respect; the little knowledge I have is only a peep-hole through which I see the boundless stores that I can never hope to possess—and surely this can only make me more humble.
Nov. 1st.—I had not time yesterday to say any thing of the plant which produces the tabasheer; and perhaps Marianne might like to have the particulars that we were told.
It is the bamboo-cane, which is of the same natural order as the grasses; it grows in both hemispheres, almost anywhere within the tropics, and very abundantly in the East Indies. The main roots are thick and jointed,and from these joints spring several stems, which are sometimes eighteen inches in circumference at the bottom. These stems or culms are round, hollow, and shining; they grow quite straight, and often to the height of sixty feet; and they are articulated, or knotted; the knots being about a foot apart, and each armed with one or two sharp spines. The leaves are narrow, eight or nine inches long, and supported on short foot stalks; and the flowers grow in large panicles, three or four together, from the joints of the stem.
The stalks of the bamboo, while young, are filled with a spongy substance which contains a sweetish milky juice; but they become hollow as they grow old, except at the joints, where they are crossed by a woody membrane—such as I believe there is in the knots of all culms. Upon that membrane the liquor rests, and concretes into the substance called tabasheer, or sugar of Mombu—which was held in such esteem by the ancients, that it was valued at its weight in silver. It had long been used as a medicine all over the east, but was first made known in Europe by Dr. Russell in 1790.
The young shoots are dark green; and, while tender, make a good pickle; but the old stalks are of a shining yellow colour, and prodigiously hard and durable: they are used in buildings, in all the farming tools, and in allsorts of household furniture. By piercing the joints they are often converted into water-pipes, and they make excellent poles by which the porters carry casks, bales, and palanquins. In the island of Java, a sort of palanquin is formed of bamboos, resembling a small house in shape, and called a dooly. In short there are few plants which have such a variety of uses.
2nd.—This last summer is said by every one to have been remarkable for the quantity of seed produced by almost all plants; and acorns were particularly plentiful. Some were gathered for the purpose of sowing; but an immense number remained under the oak trees in the lawn, till within these few days, when they all disappeared, and what fell from the trees in the course of one day, had vanished before the next. After much puzzling about what could have become of them, Wentworth discovered that the sheep eat them; he caught them in the act to-day. He also observed that chaffinches and other birds eat beech-masts—but I do not wonder at that, for I think them excellent; and my aunt tells me that on some parts of the continent they are very much used as food by the poor inhabitants. The oil which is previously expressed from them is of the finest quality; andin Alsace, as well as all along the borders of France and Germany, the peasants make a sort of cake with the remainder.
I saw the jay to-day for the first time; Mary shewed me several of these pretty birds under a hedge. We watched them for some time, and I actually saw one raise and depress the bunch of black and white feathers on his forehead repeatedly; the wing coverts are beautiful. Jays are very affectionate to their young, who remain with their parents during all the autumn and winter months, instead of separating early, as most birds do. In winter they are to be seen continually under high hedges, or on the sunny side of woods and copses, seeking for acorns, crab-apples, or for the grubs and worms to be found in fields where cows have pastured. They are timid and watchful, and feed in silence; but timid as they are, they are very destructive in summer to the gardens.
The Lumleys, you know, live in a very sequestered part of the forest, and the jays seem to have established themselves in that undisturbed spot. Miss Lumley told me that they make great havoc among the beans in June; and though in general cautious and wary, at that season their boldness is quite remarkable, and nothing seems to intimidate them. She has frequently seen one of the parent birds descend from a tree into the bean rows—they soon announce their discovery by a low but particular scream, and then all the family hastened to join in the plunder.
Their throat is so wide that they can swallow beans, acorns, and even chesnuts whole; and it is said they can imitate various sounds, such as the bleating of a lamb, the hooting of an owl, the mewing of a cat, and even the neighing of a horse.
They appear to be fond of each other, but to other birds they are very troublesome, destroying their nests and eggs, and sometimes pouncing on the young ones, to the great vexation of the Lumleys.
4th.—Those poor travellers, whom more than a month ago I told you that good Mrs. Ando had so generously taken into her own house, have been obliged to continue there ever since; and my aunt has two or three times driven to Newnham to visit them. They have, you know, one little child, but the man seems to be dying, and his wife, a foreigner, nurses him with the most tender care. They have told their history to my aunt, and she has given me leave to relate it to you.
The young woman is a Swiss, her name is Madeleine, and her father was a merchant of Geneva, where they lived in comfortable affluence till his wife died. His affliction on this occasionwas so violent that he resolved to quit Geneva for ever, and remove to a city in the south of France, where he might continue his business; but Madeleine was tired of a town life, and persuaded her father to give up commerce and retire to a little property he possessed in the district of Beaufort, in Savoy. She had formed delightful pictures in her imagination of the occupations of the farm, the vineyard, and the dairy, and she longed to realise them.
Her indulgent father yielded to her wishes, and they removed from all the comforts of Geneva to that remote and mountainous district. When they arrived, and that she saw the change which she had persuaded her father to make, she felt severe regret for having interfered; and would then have persuaded him to return, but he had arranged every thing for his residence in Savoy—he had made his decision, and he would not let it be again shaken.
His activity in a short time made the house comfortable, and he employed his time and his money in forming a garden and an extensive vineyard. The industry which he had devoted to trade, he now directed to the cultivation of the vine, and his unwearied assiduity was rewarded in a few years by a profusion of grapes, of which he made excellent wine. Every thing seemed to prosper, and Madeleine dearly loved a place where they had conquered so many difficulties,and where they had seen comfort and plenty rise out of a bare and rocky valley; a place which, with their endeavours to shelter and beautify it, and with the ornament of a remarkable group of fine old walnut trees on the hill behind the house, was now quite picturesque. The poor around them had also reason to like the change, for many a distressed family were now employed, and many an ignorant child was taught as well as clothed by Madeleine. But her father had laid out all his ready money on the vineyard and on a large stock of cattle; so that every thing depended on the success of his plans.
According to the custom of the country, their cattle were sent every summer with those of the neighbours, to the fresh air and sweet pasture of the mountains. They were all intrusted to the care of one person, who during the season lived on the top of the mountain, in a little wooden hut, called achalet. There the milk of the cattle was collected; and in eight days after the cows had been driven up to the common pasture, the owners assembled, and the quantity of milk from each cow was weighed. The same thing was repeated once in the middle of summer; and at the end of the season the whole quantity of cheese and butter was divided in due proportion. The cattle were then driven back to the vallies, when there was a general festival, in which the wholecommunejoined. All the young peopleused to assemble at the chalet on this occasion in their holiday dresses, decorated with Alpine flowers; and with all the gaiety of youth, and with songs and dances, they attended the descent of their herds, which were also decked with ribbons, and bells, and garlands. At intervals the party sung together the touching song of theRanz des vaches, or some of the pretty Savoyard airs.
On the morning of one of these festivals a traveller, who had missed his way in crossing the mountain, happened to apply at the chalet for assistance. The youthful crowd were actually setting out—the song which announced the general movement had already commenced—when seeing that the traveller was faint and in want of assistance, they stopped and hastened to relieve him. They gave him such refreshment as they could, and, unmindful of their own interrupted pleasures, they delayed their march to give him time to recover. When he was sufficiently revived by their hospitality, he accompanied the gay party to the village; and, charmed by their simple manners, he joined as well as he could in their happy and innocent festivity.
The traveller was an English officer, who had been wounded. He was then enjoying the bracing air and wild scenery of Savoy; and though he intended to winter in Italy, he wished to loiter a little longer among the glens and mountains ofthis picturesque country. Madeleine’s father was interested by his appearance of ill health, and pleased by the manner in which he expressed his gratitude for the kindness he had received, and therefore invited him, whenever his wanderings should lead him that way, to take up his quarters at Beaufort. He came more than once in the course of the autumn, and was always welcomed with warmth and hospitality by the good old Swiss and Madeleine.
At length he bade them adieu, and pursued his way to Italy, leaving them in happiness and prosperity. At the end of two years he again returned, and found them sunk into poverty and misery. The overflowing of the Doron, early in spring, had caused universal destruction in the valley: houses, gardens, and vineyards were swept away, and even the cattle, which were to have gone in a few weeks to the hills, were included in the general ruin. All was gone—a few hours had reduced these amiable people from affluence to absolute want. He who had been master there—whose active head and industrious hands had planned so well and executed so much, was now the passive object of his daughter’s cares. The shock had irreparably injured his mind, for he had spent his whole fortune in making this place for her, and he had now the melancholy consciousness that both were beggars. But Madeleine’s energy rose above misfortune. She turned her whole thoughts to the comforts of her father and the means of procuring them; and she earnestly prayed for the blessing of Heaven on her exertions.
As soon as they were settled in a very small cottage in the neighbourhood, she determined again to try the cultivation of the vine—but considerably higher on the side of the hill—so as to be secure from a second inundation. She intended to have laboured at this new plantation herself, with the assistance of one old and attached servant, but numbers of people from the neighbouring villages, who loved her and were grateful to her, insisted on being allowed to help. It is a common custom in Switzerland to plant vines on very steep hills, with alternate rows of dry stone walls, to preserve the soil about the plants; and Madeleine resolved to accomplish such a vineyard. By the assistance of these good-natured people, a small plantation was made: while some were digging, others built the little walls; and Madeleine herself guided the donkies which were laden with earth to make a sufficient soil, or with her own hands disposed it round each vine plant, and dressed the whole.
Though the vineyard was small, she hoped to derive an additional benefit from it for her father, by planting a few useful vegetables, which might perhaps interest him in his favourite occupation of gardening. But when she tried torouse his mind to this, he only wept at the loss of their former pretty garden, for which they had both done so much.
The group of walnut-trees still remained; and, fortunately, they bore remarkably well. The gathering of the fruit and the pressure of the oil is one of the most important occupations of the Savoyards, and Madeleine was again assisted by her kind neighbours. The walnut harvest commences about September; the fruit is beaten off the trees with long poles, and the green husks are taken off as soon as they begin to decay; the walnuts are then laid in a chamber to dry, where they remain till the end of Autumn, when the process of making the oil commences. The first operation is of course to take out the kernel, and for this the neighbouring peasantry collect. They are usually placed round a long table; a man at each end of it cracks the nuts with a mallet, by hitting them on the point; and as fast as they are cracked they are distributed to the persons round the table, who take out the kernels and remove the inner part. The Savoyards are so lively, that this employment is in general accompanied by songs and various amusements. The day that Bertram, their English friend, returned, Madeleine was thus occupied; while her poor old father, placed in a chair beside her, was gazing vacantly at what they were doing.
Though changed so much in circumstances, she did not appear dejected—she had not sunk into despair, and though her countenance, as he told my aunt, no longer expressed gaiety, yet even in her tears she had the smile of hope and cheerfulness. He had always esteemed her, and was now so charmed by her various merits, and so anxious to assist and protect her, that he persuaded her to accept his hand. He wrote to his father, who is a clergyman in Wales; he obtained his consent, and for a few years lived happily with Madeleine in her cottage, enjoying those pleasures that follow laborious industry, and taking part in all the tender cares she bestowed on her poor father. His half-pay added to their comforts, but still he was obliged to work—to labour sometimes for the pleasure of making Madeleine’s father comfortable at the close of his life, and he was rewarded by the success of their exertions.