But the severity of the climate in winter and his laborious life were too much for his constitution, which had never recovered the effect of his wounds. He felt that his strength was declining; and the poor old father having died, last spring, Bertram became anxious to return to his own country. They had no longer any tie to Savoy, and Madeleine willingly acquiesced in his wishes and sold her little property; yet it gave her many a pang to part for ever with the place where shehad been so happy with her father—a place so endeared to her by years of cheerful industry, and by the sympathy and kindness she had received from all the inhabitants.
Unfortunately, Bertram became so much worse on his journey, that they were frequently obliged to rest, and by the time they arrived in Gloucestershire they found their expenses had been so great that they should not have sufficient means to accomplish the remainder of their journey. Thus stopped by want of money as well as by illness, poor Madeleine was looking for some humble lodging, when that kind-hearted creature Mrs. Ando, prevailed on them to come to her house. He has repeatedly written to request his father would come to him, but till last Monday he received no answer. It appears that the old gentleman had been also very ill, and all his letters remained unopened. He is now expected every day—and a sad meeting it will be, for my aunt fears that his son is too ill to recover.
Mrs. Ando sent a messenger yesterday to tell my aunt that her poor patient very much wished to see her again. She instantly went, and they had a long conversation on religious subjects, which gave her heartfelt pleasure, his sentiments were so pious. He spoke in the most affecting manner of Madeleine’s cheerful and tender care; and added that having been separated from his father when very young, he had become careless and indifferent about religion;—for a soldier’s life is rather unfavourable to religious improvement; but that his excellent wife had perceived this, and with prudent caution had gently led him tothink; her good sense and admirable example awakened his mind, and while he taught her the English language, she taught him in return the principles, the humility, and the practice of Christianity.
Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts meantimeWere interchanged, and hopes and views sublime.To her he came to die, and every dayShe took some portion of the dread away;With him she prayed, to him her Bible read,Soothed the faint heart, and held the aching head;She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;Apart she sighed; alone, she shed the tear;Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gaveFresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.
Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts meantimeWere interchanged, and hopes and views sublime.To her he came to die, and every dayShe took some portion of the dread away;With him she prayed, to him her Bible read,Soothed the faint heart, and held the aching head;She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;Apart she sighed; alone, she shed the tear;Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gaveFresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.
Still long she nursed him; tender thoughts meantimeWere interchanged, and hopes and views sublime.To her he came to die, and every dayShe took some portion of the dread away;With him she prayed, to him her Bible read,Soothed the faint heart, and held the aching head;She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;Apart she sighed; alone, she shed the tear;Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gaveFresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave.
5th.—I was rather naughty yesterday, I did not walk out; and my uncle reproached me for it this morning. “If you shut yourself up every cold day, Bertha, you will never become more hardy than the stove plants from your own country, which would certainly be more ornamental, and more valuable, if they could be reconciled to our climate, and made to grow here in the open ground. And you, too, would be happier as well as stronger, if you were able to enjoy the out of door pleasures of winter as well as those of the fire-side.”
“Yes, uncle, I wish to do so, but I delayed till the day changed in hopes of having Caroline with me; the straight beech-walk is comfortably sheltered from the north-east wind, but then the high ditch prevents one from seeing any thing, and makes it a dull place without a companion.”
My uncle laughed at my wanting to have a view from my walk, and said, “Certainly it would have been pleasant to have had a companion; but for my own part, I often enjoy a solitary walk: it is, I think, a great advantage to accustom the mind to submit sometimes to solitude, and to look for pleasure from within. Suppose there be nothing to see, why should you be dull? Have you not memory and reflection for companions? Do not your various pursuits furnish you with matter for consideration? Study is absolutely useless, if you do not, by daily recalling what you have read, endeavour to class and arrange it in your mind; can you feel alone and dull when thus engaged, and is not that retired walk exactly suited for such employment? But, come with me, my dear,” he added, “and I will shew you sufficient to occupy both eyes and mind even in that dull place.”
A walk with my uncle is one of my greatest pleasures, dear mamma.—I was ready in a minute—and to the beech-walk we went; but it was no longer a dull walk; all he says is so delightful, and he listens so patiently to everyquestion. After a few turns, in which I entirely forgot the North-east wind, he said, “There is no place, my little Bertha, that does not present some objects of interest to those who choose to open their eyes. For instance, even on this rough ditch, and on the old wall that joins it, you may see a curious variety of vegetation, which your finest embroidery cannot equal. Look at those mosses; they are among the meanest plants, yet there is not one that is not worth examining. The fructification is still to be seen on that tuft ofbearded thread moss. Take your little magnifying glass and look at the cup which is so delicate, and yet so firm, its edge strengthened by that finely toothed ring, to which the slender conical lid is exactly fitted; its pointed top, you see, serves to attach that little shining scaly membrane, which is the principal defence of the flower and seed from the weather, and which is called the veil orCalyptra.
“Now, Bertha, look at thissilver thread moss, here on the walk, with its diminutive leaves so closely pressed to the stem as to be hardly visible; it is now quite green, but in some weeks it will become of a shining silvery white, especially when dry; and this circumstance distinguishes it from all other mosses.”
I asked him the name of the moss that is so common on the roots of the trees, creepingthrough the grass round them, and growing in tufts of long crowded shoots;—he told me that those long crowded shoots mark that species, and he shewed me the brown fibres by which they cling to the trees; and the leaves which grow in double rows, ending in little crooked hairs; he called it thetrailing feather moss. He seemed to take as much pleasure in explaining a thousand things about them as I did in listening. How stupidly I had walked up and down there, and never cast my eyes on the beautiful structure of these little plants! We then examined several lichens, some in tufts hanging from the branches of trees and bushes, or encircling them with their crisp flat leaves; others covering the stems with an odd white crust; while on the damp earth beneath we found thecup lichenin deep sea-green patches, displaying its tiny cups like fairy wine-glasses.
“On those stones,” said my uncle, “you may trace the beginning of all vegetation, from the little black spots, which are scarcely discernible, to the larger lichens and mosses of different forms and sizes. Or, let us turn to the grassy bank, and you may there see a great number of herbaceous plants still green, mixing with that useful grass, the creeping bent, which throws out fresh pasture at this late season from the joints of its runners orstolones.”
He shewed me many of these plants; andmore than once said, “Everything here is interesting to persons of observation, and particularly so to those who know something of botany. But they are not merely for momentary examination—the variety and the design, to be found in each, supply ample subject of reflection.”
Just at that moment I heard a shrill cry, and I interrupted my uncle to ask what it was.
He told me that it was the alarm-cry of the fieldfare, and pointed to a large tree at the end of the walk, where a number of fieldfares and redwings, lately arrived from a colder climate, had collected.
“You see,” said my uncle, “that even without any fine picturesque view, you may have abundance of amusement here, not only in observing the growth of mosses and plants, but in watching the habits of birds. You may see the little woodpecker, and the still smaller creeper running nimbly up the stems of the trees, and pecking insects and their eggs out of the crevices of the bark; or the fauvette and the friendly robin waiting on every spray for a little notice; while in the thickets to the left you may see the missel thrush, and may sometimes distinguish its note, though it does not actually sing at this season.”
As my uncle said this, we approached the tree on which the fieldfares were perched: they seemed at first unmindful of us; but, as we came nearer, one bird which I had observed sittingalone at the very end of a branch, rose suddenly on its wings and gave a cry of alarm, which was the same I had heard before. The moment this happened, they all flew off together, except one, which remained there till we almost reached the tree, when it repeated the same cry and followed the rest.
My uncle told me that this is the constant habit of these birds; they arrive late in autumn, and always collect in a flock, placing one on the watch to give the alarm. When they spread over a field in search of food, they never separate much, and fly off in a body at the first notice of their sentinel. The redwing sings sweetly in its native country, Sweden, though here it makes only a piping noise. As we walked along, he told me that fieldfares were formerly kept in aviaries by the Romans, who fattened them on bread and minced figs; during which process very little light was admitted, and all objects were excluded from their sight, that could remind them of their former liberty. We watched these birds for a long time; and as we returned home my uncle said, “But in suggesting these subjects of observation, Bertha, I do not mean that you should always stand still in the cold to examine them; nor do I suppose that in one walk you could attend to such a variety of objects. I only want to shew you how much amusement a solitary winter’s walk, even along adullstraight high ditch, can supply for both eyes and thoughts.
“Besides all these, you, my little botanist, might have another endless subject for examination in our deciduous trees, on many of which you will find that, unlike those of tropical climates, the young shoots, leaves and flowers are formed in autumn, and cradled up in scaly buds, where they are secure from frost, till the following spring.
“Indeed, the comparisons you must be naturally induced to make between your two countries, might supply you with amusing and useful occupation; and the result will be, that in each you will discover how peculiarly every creature and every vegetable is adapted to the country where it has been placed.”
6th,Sunday.—I asked my uncle this morning, why Joseph said that every shepherd was an abomination to an Egyptian; and also, why Joseph expected, that when Pharaoh was informed that his father and brethren were shepherds, he would order them to dwell in the land of Goshen?
“In the first place,” said he, “it is supposed that Egypt had been invaded and subdued by a tribe of warlike shepherds from Arabia, called Cushites, or sons of Cush. They were also calledthe Pali, or shepherds; and their leaders called themselves the Shepherd-Kings. Six of these Shepherd-kings are said to have successively reigned in Egypt, till at length the native princes, weary of their tyranny, rebelled, and expelled them. They retired into the land of Canaan, and established themselves at Jerusalem, and in other strong situations in that country, which, from them, obtained the name of Palestine, or Palis-tan—the country of the Pali. These people afterwards became the Philistines, who were such troublesome neighbours to the Israelites.
“The memory of their tyranny was still fresh in the minds of the Egyptians, at the time that Joseph’s family removed to Egypt; and it was, therefore, natural that every shepherd should be an abomination to the Egyptians. Cush, you know, was the eldest son of Ham; the Egyptians were descended from Mizraim, the second son of Ham, and Egypt is to this day called Mizr, by the Arabs and Abyssinians.
“As to your second question,” continued my uncle, “in regard to their being ordered to dwell in the land of Goshen, it appears probable that there had been shepherds in those parts before; otherwise Joseph could scarcely have foreseen that that portion of the land would be given to his brethren. Besides which, Goshen being chiefly adapted to pasturage, which was so contrary to the taste of the Egyptians, this region most likely lay neglected. Hence we see why the Israelites found such easy access into the country, so as not only to be allowed to dwell in it, but to have the land of Goshen given them for a possession, even the best of the land of Egypt.”
“I wonder,” said Wentworth, “why the Israelites were sent by Providence into Egypt, as they were, after a time, to be placed in Canaan, the land of promise, and would, therefore, be again unsettled and obliged to remove.”
“It has been suggested,” said my uncle, “that the promise made to Abraham, to give to his posterity the land of Canaan, was not to be fulfilled, till this great family of Israel was strong enough to take that land by force from the inhabitants, and to keep possession of it. Besides, the Canaanites had not then completed the measure of their wickedness, which was to be punished by the loss of their country.
“In the meantime, though the Israelites were obliged to reside amongst idolaters, and were enjoined to preserve themselves unmixed; yet Egypt was the only place where they could for so long a time remain safe from being confounded with the natives. For the ancient Egyptians were, by numerous institutions, forbidden all fellowship with strangers; and having a particular aversion to the employment of the Israelites,they were, by that means, more completely separated. Besides, during their long residence of above 400 years in Egypt, the Israelites, who were but simple shepherds when they went there, had the advantage of acquiring a knowledge of the various arts in which the Egyptians excelled.
“The Bible here, as in many other cases, only records the facts: we cannot now penetrate, my dear boy, into the causes or motives which led to them; but we may be sure that what was dictated by Infinite Wisdom was just and proper; and in venturing to assign such reasons as we can infer from other circumstances in history, we should do so with great modesty and distrust of ourselves.”
7th.—My uncle has been obliged to go to London about business; he left us this morning, but his stay will not be very long, I hope, for we shall miss him excessively, and the more so, as winter is completely begun. We have now dark days, with frequent rain and storms; few trees have even a withered leaf remaining, and every thing out of doors has a forlorn and desolate appearance.
But though the leaves are all gone, we have still a few flowers; the China rose is still in bloom, and in the sheltered warm borders, we find a few wall-flowers, some lilac primroses,and many Neapolitan violets, which are delightfully sweet.
9th.—When we were walking this morning in the forest, Frederick made me take notice of a flock of crows, which were quite different in appearance from the common rook. The back is ash-coloured, while the head, throat, wings, and tail, are black. I was surprised at my own blindness in not having observed them before; but Frederick told me that they had only arrived lately, as they change their abode twice in the year. About the middle of autumn, they appear in the southern parts of England in flocks; and in the beginning of spring they depart in a northerly direction; though in some parts of Scotland and Ireland, they remain through the whole year. This species is still more familiar than the rook, and in winter will go even to the yards of houses to pick up food. It is called the hooded crow, or scare-crow. I heard it give two cries, one was the hollow hoarse note of the crow, but the other was shrill, and not very unlike the crowing of a cock. They are remarkable for this double cry.
Mr. Landt, in his description of the Feroe Islands, says that one or two hundred of these birds sometimes assemble, as if by general consent. A few of them sit with drooping heads,others seem as grave as if they were the judges, and others again very bustling and noisy. The meeting breaks up in about an hour, when one or two are generally found dead on the spot; and it has been supposed, by those who have observed them carefully, that they were criminals punished for their offences. Frederick says he has read that in the Orkneys, too, they meet in spring, as if to deliberate on concerns of importance; and after flying about in this collected state for eight or ten days, they separate into pairs, and retire to the mountains.
Along with those we saw several carrion crows with their glossy plumage of bluish black; they not only associate with rooks and other crows, but approach our dwellings and saunter among the flocks; and I really saw some hopping on the backs of pigs and sheep, with such apparent familiarity that one might have imagined they were domestic birds.
Towards the close of winter the hooded crow and the rook remove to other regions, but the carrion crows resort to the nearest woods, which they seem to divide into separate districts, one for each pair; and it is remarkable that they never intrude on each other’s portions.
Crows may well be calledomnivorousbirds, for they eat every thing—flesh, eggs, worms, grain, fish, and fruit. Shell fish, it is said, they very ingeniously crack by dropping them from a greatheight on a stone. Many people have seen this; and the great Mr. Watt, whose observation was always alive, watched one of these sagacious crows taking up a crab into the air, which it repeatedly let fall on a rock, till the shell w?as completely broken. The same ingenuity has been observed in another species of the crow family, in North America: a blue jay, which had been tamed, finding the dried seeds of Indian corn too hard to break, placed one in the corner of a shelf in the green-house, between the wall and a plant box: having thus secured it on three sides, he easily contrived to break it; and, having once succeeded, he continued ever after to apply the same means.
10th.—We have had a grand discussion in our walk this morning, on genius. Mary’s opinion is, that it never exists originally; and that wherever biography affords us the opportunity of learning the small circumstances of early life, we may observe that something had occurred to turn the attention, while young, to that pursuit, in which successful perseverance had been afterwards ascribed to genius. For instance, in the thirteenth century, some Greek painters being employed in the churches of Florence, the youthful Cimabue gazed for whole days in admiration of their work: he afterwards devoted himself to the art, and quickly surpassed his masters. Here,but for the circumstance of the Greek painters, his talent might have remained unknown even to himself.
“But,” said Caroline, “his own pupil, Giotto, may be opposed to your theory; you know he was a shepherd boy, whom Cimabue found accurately drawing the figures of his sheep on the sand.”
“I confess,” said Mary, “that does seem rather against me, but we do not know what previous opportunities he might have had. Canova’s genius, it is said, shewed itself in the obscurity of village life; yet we learn from his Memoirs that he lived with his grandfather, who, though only a common stone-cutter, was in the habit of designing and working architectural ornaments, and surely that accounts for the tendency of his pupil’s mind.”
“Very well,” replied Caroline, “I will leave you in possession of Canova, and only ask what you think of West—the great West? Belonging to the sect of Quakers, who disapprove of making any representation of the human form, and born in North America, where the arts were not at that time cultivated, he had never seen any sort of drawing; yet while he was a very little boy, being desired to watch a sleeping infant, he was so charmed with its little face and attitude, that he made an excellent sketch of it with a bit of half-burnedwood. Was not that, Mary, from the impulse of genius?”
“I see,” said Wentworth, “that Mary does not think herself quite conquered; but as it is going to rain, suppose we adjourn the debate, as papa says, to another day. Caroline shall then have Bertha on her side; I will do my best for Mary, as a true knight is bound to assist the weak; and Frederick shall be the umpire, and adjudge the wreath of victory.”
We all agreed to this plan; and I am sure it will produce a great deal of amusement. My uncle and aunt approve of these good-humoured contests, in which we never lose our temper, and all gain information.
11th.—Ourgeniusconversation of yesterday having been mentioned in the evening at tea, my aunt encouraged us to repeat our arguments, and to defend them by fresh examples; and my uncle so nicely threw himself, sometimes into one scale, and sometimes into the other, that both parties valued themselves on his support. I am rather in doubt which will amuse you most, the anecdotes of various people that he related, or some circumstances in Canova’s life that my aunt afterwards told us: I believe these interested me the most, so I shall begin with them.
“The beautiful country round Passagno, andthe refreshing breezes from the Alps, made it a frequent summer residence for the Venetian nobility. Old Pasino Canova, who lived there, was often employed in the repairs or embellishments of their villas, and on these occasions he was accompanied by his grandson. Young Canova thus became known to the senator Falier, who was afterwards his most zealous patron; and an intimacy was formed between him and Giuseppe Falier, the youngest son, which ceased only with Canova’s life.
“The ingenuous disposition of Canova, his animated countenance and his modesty, interested the elder Falier; and he took him, when about twelve years old, under his immediate protection. But it was by a mere accident that his talents were first noticed. At a festival celebrated at the villa of Falier, and attended by many of the Venetian nobility, the domestics had neglected to provide an ornament for the dessert. The omission was not discovered till it was too late; and, fearing the displeasure of their master, they applied to Pasino, who, with his grandson, was then at work in the house.
“The old man could suggest no remedy; but young Antonio desired to have some butter, and in a few moments he modelled a lion, with such skill and effect, that, when it appeared at table, it excited the attention and applause of all present. The servants were questioned—the wholewas disclosed, and little Tonin declared to be the contriver. He was immediately called for; and blushing and half reluctant, was led into the brilliant assembly, where he received universal praise and caresses.”
“There is a circumstance strikingly similar to this,” continued my aunt, “which is told of our celebrated sculptor Chantrey, and of which I believe there is no doubt, as I was told it by a person to whom Chantrey, with noble candour, had himself communicated it. When quite a boy, not more than nine or ten, he used frequently to visit his aunt, who was housekeeper to a lady of fortune in Derbyshire. During one of these visits, it was observed that the flowers and ornaments of the pastry at table were executed with particularly good taste; and the housekeeper acknowledged that she had allowed her little nephew to amuse himself in making whatever ornaments he fancied. The lady determined on giving him other opportunities of trying his talents, and finding how very superior they were, she actually sent him to London to receive instruction. With what delight this benevolent and judicious woman must now behold the works of this great artist; and how much she must enjoy the fame which he has so justly acquired!
“The progress which Canova made, and the perfection even of his earliest works, is known toall the world; but perhaps you may not have heard that during his whole life, both while suffering opposition from envious artists, who threw every obstacle in his way, and afterwards when he had attained the highest success, he preserved his unpretending modesty and simplicity. He neither yielded to occasional disappointment, nor to the vanity of shewing that he could surpass his rivals. Improvement was the one great object which he unremittingly pursued, and all his ideas were subjected to rigid examination; he compared them first with nature, and he then flew to the Vatican, where he compared them with the antique.—The result always calmed his solicitude; he returned with fresh confidence to hisstudio, and in solitude laboured to perfect his style, without either boasting to his friends, or triumphing over his opponents.
“This modest reserve always marked his conduct. To the observations of friends, whether of approbation or criticism, he seldom replied. ‘To praise,’ he used to say, ‘what can I answer?—to the censures of well-wishers I must listen in silence; for if wrong, their feelings would be hurt by telling them so, and if correct, I endeavour to profit by their remarks,’ But it frequently occurred that he reminded his friends of their former criticisms, and candidly pointed out the consequent correction.
“His high talents were combined with themost amiable disposition, and a most grateful heart. His good old grandmother lived to see the success and the excellence of the object of her care; and Canova, who cherished every affectionate feeling, enjoyed that first of pleasures—the repaying former benefits. After the death of his grandfather he brought her to reside with him at Rome, and his friends still remember his tender anxiety to make the close of her life happy.
“Canova sculptured the bust of his grandmother, in the dress of her native province, which was the same as that of Titian’s mother; and this bust he kept in his own apartment.—Pointing it out one day to a visiter, he said, with much emotion, ‘That is a piece which I greatly value;—it is the likeness of her to whom I owe as much as it is possible for one human being to owe to another;’ adding, ‘you see she is dressed nearly as Titian’s mother; but unless affection renders me a partial judge, my grandmother is much the finer old woman.’”
12th.—Mary has a most enviable memory; she has just been entertaining me with what she read in Waddington’s travels in Dongola.
She says, the houses there are either a sort of mud fortresses intended for defence, or else low cottages of straw and branches, tied together with bands, and supported at each corner bythe dry stem of a palm, to which the walls are united.
The vale of Farjas is described as a most romantic little spot; a green and cultivated valley not two hundred yards broad, closely shut in between a range of high granite rocks, and a narrow branch of the Nile; and flourishing in freshness and fertility, in the middle of the wildest waste. The simple inhabitants offered a great many little civilities to Mr. W. and his companions.
She mentioned also two very curious passes through the hills; one called the “Pass of the Water’s Mouth,” near the entrance of which are two immense stones, as regular as if formed and placed there by art; and the other a winding pass amongst high rocks, that required an hour and forty minutes to travel through it; it is oddly called “The Father of the Acacias,” though from beginning to end it contains not one symptom of vegetation.
But I can write no more now, for my aunt has sent for me to walk with her, if I am so inclined—and that indeed I am.
13th,Sunday.—The conversation, at breakfast this morning, having turned on the history of Moses, my aunt observed, that the entire account of his life is told in the most plain and artless manner, unmixed with any circumstanceslikely to exalt his personal character, and is throughout distinguished by that candour and impartiality, with which Moses always speaks of himself.
I asked her, how soon after the death of Joseph, the destruction of the first-born of the Israelites was decreed by Pharaoh.
“There is reason to think,” said my aunt, “that it was about sixty-four years after the death of Joseph; probably soon after the birth of Aaron, who had not been subject to this decree; and about one hundred and thirty-three years after their settlement in Egypt.
“You are of course aware, Bertha,” continued she, “that Pharaoh was the title of all the Egyptian sovereigns at that ancient period; the Pharaoh who had favoured Joseph was dead, and his successors were ill-disposed towards the Israelites, who had increased so much, that the Egyptian kings began to fear them, for they still recollected the thraldom in which they had for a long time been held by the Cushite or Shepherd invaders. And besides, Egypt was still subject to incursions from the Arabians, on that very side where the Israelites dwelled; which accounts at once both for their jealousy of the Israelites, who had the power of betraying them, by admitting the invaders, and also for the fear expressed by Pharaoh, lest they should ‘get them up out of the land;’ because, as long as theywere in Goshen, they were, if faithful, a sort of defence to his kingdom, by being thus situated on its frontiers.
“But to return to the history of Moses—the ark of rushes which his mother ‘took for him,’ was a little vessel or basket, made of reeds, and daubed with slime or pitch, to keep out the water; it was probably of the form of one of those boats, with which the river was always covered, and made, like them, of ‘bulrushes,’ by which is meant the papyrus of which the Egyptians made their paper, and which grew in abundance on the banks of the Nile. This papyrus was strong enough to resist the water, and well adapted by its lightness to swim with a child’s weight. The vessels of bulrushes mentioned in both sacred and profane history were made in the same manner on a larger scale. Bruce, the traveller, saw them in common use in Abyssinia; and even at this day they are to be seen on the Nile; though the introduction of plank and stronger materials has caused them to be laid aside in a great degree.
“It was customary for the Egyptian females to express their veneration for the Nile, by plunging into it, when it began to overflow the country; and it is probable, that when the daughter of Pharaoh bathed, it was in compliance with some such custom. Modern travellers tell us, that a ceremony is still observed by the Egyptian females, of going to solemnize with songs, and dance, and bathing, the first visible rise of the Nile.
“Observe here, my dear children,” continued my aunt, “the chain of small circumstances by which God leads mankind to the accomplishment of his high decrees. When the daughter of Pharaoh goes to celebrate a heathen ceremony—when she finds the babe, and calls the Hebrew woman to be his nurse, and when that nurse turns out to be his own mother—what a singular concurrence of events, simple and obvious in themselves, but wonderful in their combinations!
“Josephus, the Jewish historian, states that Pharaoh’s daughter was married but had no children, and therefore adopted Moses, and gave him a princely education; that he became a man of eminence amongst the Egyptians, was made a general and leader of their armies, and fought some battles with success. While he was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, he was taught at home a knowledge of God; his father Amram imparted to him the promised redemption of Israel, and his mother fixed the true faith in his heart; so that it became the guide and the principle of all his actions.
“The land of Midian, to which Moses fled when he killed the Egyptian in defence of the ill-treated Israelite, was a part of Arabia Petræa,where some of Abraham’s posterity were settled; it lay upon the further side of the Red Sea, to the east of the wilderness of Sin. During his long absence from Egypt, Moses never forgot that he was separated from his family and his nation; and to mark his feelings he called his son Gershom, a desolate stranger. While he was thus an exile, he was trained in the school of adversity; his faith was strengthened, so that it prepared him for the arduous mission which he was born to undertake; and he became ‘meek above all the men which were on the face of the earth.’ No man, indeed, had greater trials—but about them and the important part he afterwards performed, I will take some other opportunity of conversing with you.”
14th.—I had so many questions to ask about papyrus, that I thought it better not to interrupt my aunt yesterday, when Moses was more particularly the subject of our conversation. This morning, however, I begged of her to tell me some particulars about the paper made from that plant, and I will now put down here the substance of what she told me.
“Thepapyrus, or Egyptian reed, as it is called, grows in the marshy ground, caused by the overflowing of the Nile, and rises to the height of six or seven cubits above the water.The stalk is triangular, and terminates in a crown of small filaments, resembling hair, which the ancients used to compare to athyrsus.—It was very useful to the inhabitants of the country where it grew, for the stem not only served for building small boats, but was likewise used for making cups and other utensils. The pith of the plant was eaten as food, and the root, being full of a sweet juice, was frequently chewed.
“But the manufacture of paper was the most important of all its uses; for I need not tell you, Bertha, that before mankind had some means of noting events, the recollection of them was either lost, or became so mixed with error, in being preserved by mere oral tradition, that we have no records of the ancient transactions of the inhabitants of the globe; except those contained in the Bible, which were, you know, written by Moses retrospectively. Before the invention of letters, mankind may be said to have been perpetually in their infancy, as the arts of one age or country generally died with their inventors.
“When the outer skin or bark of the stem of the papyrus,” continued my aunt, “was taken off, several slender films or pellicles were found one within the other. These pellicles were carefully separated with a pointed instrument, and spread on a table so that the thickest parts were all ranged together. On these, another layer ofpellicles was then transversely placed in a similar manner, and moistened with Nile water; the whole was heavily pressed, and when dried in the sun, formed a smooth substance well fitted for writing upon with pens made of hollow reeds, through which a coloured liquid was allowed to flow. The saccharine juice in the bark helped to make the adhesion perfect, but sometimes a thin coat of gum was laid upon the first layer. Thus large sheets were prepared for writing, and when formed into books, the boards or covers, we learn from some of the early Greek writers, were made from the woody parts of the same plant.
“The Egyptian name of this plant isBabr, from whence bothpapyrusand our wordpaper, seem to have been derived. The bark of a species of mulberry tree was afterwards used for paper; andliber, which properly meant the bark of a tree, was, therefore, applied to signify a book.”
Caroline, whose memory always serves her at the right moment, immediately repeated these lines,—
Papyrus, verdant on the banks of Nile,Spread its thin leaf, and waved its silvery style;Its plastic pellicles Invention took,To form the polished page and lettered book;And on its folds, with skill consummate taughtTo paint, in mystic colors, sound and thought.
Papyrus, verdant on the banks of Nile,Spread its thin leaf, and waved its silvery style;Its plastic pellicles Invention took,To form the polished page and lettered book;And on its folds, with skill consummate taughtTo paint, in mystic colors, sound and thought.
Papyrus, verdant on the banks of Nile,Spread its thin leaf, and waved its silvery style;Its plastic pellicles Invention took,To form the polished page and lettered book;And on its folds, with skill consummate taughtTo paint, in mystic colors, sound and thought.
My aunt smiled, and then added: “To form those little bulrush vessels that are alluded to in the Bible and elsewhere, the papyrus was made up in bundles, and by tying these bundles together, and placing a piece of timber at the bottom to serve as a keel, they gave their vessels the necessary shape. Several ancient writers describe them; Lucan speaks of the Memphian or Egyptian boat, made of thethirstypapyrus; which corresponds exactly with the nature of the plant, as well as with its Hebrew name, which signifies, to drink or soak up.
“This plant requires so much water that it perishes when the river on whose banks it grows is much reduced; and it is for that reason that Job mentions it as the image of transient prosperity.”
15th.—My uncle has returned, to the joy of the whole family; he looks a little tired, but seems rejoiced to be at home. He has seen numbers of curious things, and has already told us some of them.
One thing that he mentioned was very interesting to me; he met a gentleman who had lately arrived from our southern regions, and who had seen that wonderful luminous creature of those seas which I mentioned to you in my journal when on board the Phaeton. According to this gentleman’s account, each ofthese brilliant animals diffused a sphere of light of eighteen inches in diameter; “Think then,” said he to my uncle, “what the effect must be on the spectator, when the sea is absolutely full of them as far as the eye can reach, and to many yards in depth. One evening, in particular, from seven to eleven o’clock, the ship sailed upwards of twenty miles through these living lamps; and the strong light they gave enabled him to distinguish many fishes, even ten or twelve feet beneath the surface of the water, that appeared to be accompanying the ship.”
My uncle then gave us a very entertaining account of an experiment he witnessed on the common house-spider, which proves that it possesses a natural diving-bell, to assist it in crossing water. The spider was placed on a small platform in the middle of a large tumbler full of water, the platform being about half an inch above the edge of the glass, and two inches above the water. It first descended by the stick that supported the platform, till it reached the water, but finding no way to escape, it returned to the platform, and for some time employed itself in preparing a web, with which, by means of its hinder legs, it loosely enveloped its body and head. It again descended, and without hesitation plunged into the water, when my uncle observed, that the web with which it was covered contained a bubble of air, probably intended for respiration. The spider, wrapped up in this little diving-bell, endeavoured on every side to make its escape; but in vain, on account of the slipperiness of the glass; and after remaining at the bottom for about thirteen minutes, it returned, apparently much exhausted, as it coiled itself closely under the platform, and remained there for some time without motion.
Another beautiful thing that my uncle was shewn by Dr. W., was a veil woven by caterpillars—actually a gossamer veil. The ingenious person, a German I believe, who had managed those little manufacturers, spread them over a large glass, and contrived to place them so that the work of each was connected with that of its neighbour. As he could direct or change their progress at pleasure, he was not only able to form the veil of a tolerably regular shape, but by sometimes inducing them to go two or three times over the same spot, to give it the appearance of flowered lace. The whole veil, though of a large size, weighed only three grains and a half; and a breath blew it up into the air, where it floated like a cloud.
16th.—When my uncle was in town, he was present at the opening and examination of an Egyptian mummy, along with several members of the Royal Society. Some mummies, he says, have two cases; in these, the outer one is ornamented with stripes of painted linen, and the inner case is covered with a kind of paper on which figures and hieroglyphics are painted with great brilliancy of colour.
The one which he saw had but a single case, which appeared to be made of sycamore-wood, two inches in thickness; the back and the front being fastened together by pegs. The case is made to stand upright, and is covered, inside and out, with a kind of shell or coat of plaster, to a considerable thickness. This coat is painted outside with hieroglyphics in horizontal lines on a deep orange ground; and the whole is highly varnished. The internal surface is likewise divided into broad stripes, alternately white and yellow; and on both are inscribed hieroglyphics and other characters about an inch long, probably consisting of prayers or invocations for the dead, or perhaps of some biographical notice.
My uncle told us that the embalmed body was most carefully secured from the air, by a covering of cerecloth, and by bandages that were applied with a neatness and precision that would have done honour to the most skilful surgeon of modern times. Of the many species of bandages which are employed in surgery, there is not one that did not appear to have been used; and they were so many times repeated, that after their removal, they were found to weigh twenty-eight pounds. Each limb, nay, each fingerand toe had a separate one; and over all, another of great length, which, though without stitch or seam, after making a few turns round both feet, ascended spirally to the head, from whence it returned as far as the breast, and terminated there in loose threads like a fringe. In unravelling all these bandages, my uncle and everybody were struck with the judicious selection of their size and form, so as to adapt them to the different parts, and to give the whole a smooth surface, without a wrinkle.
They appeared to be made of a strong compact kind of linen, and were all of a dark brown colour, the result probably of some vegetable solution that contained a large proportion of thetanninprinciple. Many of them were daubed with wax and some resinous or bituminous substance; and some little crystals were found, from which a chemist who was present seemed to think that lime had been used in preparing the skin.
The circumstance that most astonished my uncle was that some of the sinews were still elastic and flexible, and that the joints moved as easily as in a living body. My aunt and he afterwards had a long conversation on the origin of the ancient Egyptians; the principal circumstance that I picked up was that the celebrated Cuvier has examined the skulls of above fifty mummies, and that, in his opinion, theyhave the same characters as those of the Armenians, Georgians, and Europeans; or, to use his expression, that the common origin of them all was Caucasian. The skull of that which my uncle saw leads to the same conclusion, and differed essentially from the form of the negro head. It is a curious fact, which he says has been noticed by more than one traveller, that whole families are still to be found in Upper Egypt, in whom the general character of the head and face strongly resembles that of the mummies discovered in Thebes, as well as the figures represented in the ancient monuments of that country.
17th.—A friend of my uncle’s, Colonel Travers, who has lately returned from India, where he served for many years, arrived here yesterday. He has been in various parts of the East, and is so entertaining, that I am sure I shall forget to note down half the curious things which I have heard him mention.
The conversation turned on bees, and he told us that in Mysore, where he was for a long time stationed, he saw four different kinds. That which makes the finest honey is a beautiful little bee of very small size, and which does not sting. It is called thecadi. It forms its combs round the branches of trees; the honey is excellent, and can be procured with very littletrouble, as the bees are easily driven off with a switch. But the bee from which the greatest quantity of honey is procured is large and fierce, and builds under projecting ledges of rock, or in caverns. The honey is gathered twice a year, for which purpose the people kindle a fire at the foot of the rock, and throw into it the leaves of a species ofcassia, which emit a smoke so acrid that nothing can endure it—even the bees are forced to retire. As soon as the smoke subsides, a man is quickly lowered by a rope from the top of the rock; he knocks off the nest, and is immediately drawn up again, for were he to make any delay the bees would return, and their stinging is so dreadful as to endanger life.
In a tour which Colonel Travers made through a part of Ceylon, he found a species of bees which might at first be mistaken for black flies. Their heads, compared with their bodies, are extremely large. The honey is very liquid, and has a disagreeable flavour. I asked him if he had ever seen the honey-bird or Indicator, when he was at the Cape?—he did see it,—and heard its shrill note ofcherr, cherr, which announces the discovery of a bees’ nest. He followed this sagacious bird along with a party of bee-hunters, and it soon pointed out a bees’ nest, by redoubling the frequency of its cries, and by hovering over the place. Having taken most of the honey, they left only a smallportion for their little guide, so that not having enough to satisfy him, he immediately flew off to find more. These birds construct very singular nests: they are composed of slender filaments of bark, woven together in the form of a bottle; the neck and opening hang downwards, and a string is loosely fastened across the opening, on which they perch.
Colonel Travers told us, that the skin of these birds is so extremely thick, that it can scarcely be pierced by a pin; and the bees therefore attack them by endeavouring to sting their eyes.
18th.—Colonel Travers was describing to-day the areca or betel nut palm. The berry of this tree is, you know, constantly used by the Indians, who chew it both green and dry.
The preservation of the fruit during the rainy season, and the cutting it down when ripe, require much expertness and agility. He says, that from the middle of winter to the middle of spring, the leaves fall off: each leaf is attached to a broad leathern petiole or leaf-stalk; and these membranes, which are about three feet long, and half that breadth, are preserved for the rainy season as covers for the young bunches of fruit. This business is performed by a particular set of people; for the stem of the tree, which is about fifty feet high, straight, smooth, and without branches, like most of the palmtribe, is very difficult to ascend. Round his ancles, and under the soles of his feet, the climber fixes a rope; his feet, thus bound together, he places against the stem, and while he holds on steadily with his hands, he gently draws up his feet. He thus moves one hand forward and then the other hand, and afterwards again draws up his feet. In this manner he slowly reaches the top of the tree, where he makes fast a rope, the end of it being tied to the middle of a short stick on which he seats himself and performs his work; drawing up whatever he wants from below, by means of a line hanging from his girdle. When he has covered all the fruit, he unties his seat, secures it round his neck, and swings the tree backwards and forwards, till he can reach another tree, upon which he throws himself, and again makes fast his seat. In this way he swings from tree to tree, and covers or cuts the fruit in the whole garden without once descending to the ground.
19th.—I hear such quantities of amusing things from this East Indian friend of my uncle’s, that I scarcely know how to select from them. I wish you were here to listen to his adventures and to see his beautiful drawings. He lent me a sketch of the famous talipot tree of Ceylon, which I have been trying to copy. What a magnificent object it appears, crowned at the top bythose immense leaves, one of which, it is said, can shelter fifteen or twenty men from the rain! They seem to be formed purposely for this use, for they fold up like a fan, so that the whole leaf, or any portion of it, becomes portable; and though tough and impenetrable to water, they are easily cut with a knife. When a leaf is spread out, it is nearly circular; but it is cut for use into triangular pieces, one of which every Singhalese soldier carries as his parasol or umbrella by day, and his tent at night. The fruit is not eaten; but the pith, like that of the sago tree, is very good, if the tree be cut down before the seed ripens; when beaten in a mortar, it produces a kind of flour, from which cakes are made, that taste something like wheaten bread.
Colonel Travers made an excursion into the interior of Ceylon, and he described to us to-day a very curious mode of hunting which they have there. Near the side of a large pond, a hole is dug four feet deep, and wide enough to contain two or three persons. It is covered with leaves, branches, and earth, except a small opening, through which the hunters can keep a look out, and when necessary point their guns. Before dark they conceal themselves there, in order to watch the wild beasts, which come from the woods to drink, and the different species of which always come in separate herds. The elephants come first, and stay longest, as theyusually bathe before they drink, and when the water is not deep enough, they draw it up into their trunks, and refresh themselves, by spouting it over their bodies. The buffaloes come next; after having satisfied their thirst, they amuse themselves by lying down in the water, and playing and tumbling about. The tigers and the bears also take their separate turns, and towards morning, the wild boars and deer, and other smaller beasts. It is for these that the hunters generally adopt this plan, which, however, is exposed to more dangers than one, for there are instances of elephants falling into the pits and crushing the people; and even of tigers and buffaloes having discovered them by their scent. To avoid such misfortunes, the hunters go in parties, and one person is placed in some secure position, to warn the others, and to frighten away the straggling animals that come too near, by firing upon them, or throwing rockets. Colonel Travers and his companions joined a party of this kind, and here is his history of it.
“We were called at two o’clock, and having carefully loaded our pieces, and filled our pouches with cartridges, we slowly advanced along the river. At a distance on the other side, the noise of various animals was echoed deep and terrible through the forest; and we heard, in almost every watery place around us, rustling and motion. We pitched upon one of the largest of these places, and crept softly, but at a little distance from each other, into the bushes and thorns with which it was surrounded. This pool seemed to be about five or six hundred yards in circumference, and we all agreed not to fire at an elephant, or at any of the large fierce beasts, but to wait patiently the arrival of the smaller animals.
“We had not been long concealed in our thorny hiding place, when two tigers approached at the opposite side, and we observed that they drank one after the other, though there was sufficient space for both. Another half hour elapsed before any thing more made its appearance, but the noise increased on all sides, and made us rather uneasy. At last we heard the deep low of approaching buffaloes, and three soon made their appearance. After having drank for a long time, they waded into the deep part and lay down, so that nothing could be seen but their noses; and no one, who had not seen them go in, could have suspected that such huge animals were concealed there. In a short time a fourth buffalo arrived, and after snuffing round him for some moments, he began to drink. Though the others put their heads out of the water, they did not interfere with him while drinking, but when he appeared inclined to advance farther into the water, one of them instantly attacked him with a hideous roar, and as the moon shone very brightly, I could see distinctly the whole of their furious battle. At every charge they retired some steps backwards, making the sand fly in clouds, and then, with dreadful snortings and at full speed, again rushed upon each other. At last the intruding buffalo received such a tremendous blow, that he fled; and the conqueror, disdaining to pursue him, merely bellowed twice, with a clear and terrific sound, that re-echoed on every side, when he quietly returned his companions.
“The pleasure I had felt in beholding this furious combat, was soon changed into alarm, by the unexpected report of a gun! The three buffaloes started suddenly from the water—for a few moments they stood together snorting with rage, and then two of them rushed off in the direction of the flash, while the third came out near me, as if to search the bushes on all sides. I endeavoured to get out of my bush before the monster could approach; but unfortunately I became entangled in the thorns, and it was impossible to extricate myself in time. By a violent effort, however, I tore myself loose, leaving most of my clothes behind, and instantly began to run—but the furious beast was now close—I almost felt his breath, and looking round saw him not six paces distant, when throwing myself flat on the ground, he passed over me and continued atfull speed! I again crept into the thicket, and in a few minutes I heard the voices of my companions, who were in search of me, armed with flaming pieces of wood. I had felt much incensed against them for firing—but I found that they had not been to blame, a branch had struck the lock of one of their guns, which went off, and they had been exposed to as much danger as myself.”
20th.—“And he hardened Pharaoh’s heart, that he hearkened not unto them, as the Lord had said.”[6]My uncle told us to-day that this passage should be expressed thus:—“And the heart of Pharaohwas hardened, so that he hearkened not unto them; as the Lord hadforetold.” It is so rendered, he says, in the ancient versions; and the most judicious modern commentators agree that this is the proper meaning.
“Indeed,” said my uncle, “in allowing it to be inferred that the Lord had purposely hardened Pharaoh’s heart, the translators of the Bible have acted inconsistently with their own view of the phrase in several other places.[7]This is very striking in the following chapter, where it is said ‘Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also,’ which plainly implies that his resistance after the former plagues had proceededfrom his own perverse and stubborn disposition. I have likewise been assured by some very learned men, that according to the Hebrew idiom, verbs active often signifypermission; and in these verses it is much more consonant to our ideas of divine justice so to understand the expression: that is, that God permitted Pharaoh to proceed in his own proud and wicked career, insensible to the threatened judgments, which he had already despised.
“But even supposing that the verb is to be taken in the active sense, it is a remarkable fact, that the event was constantly suspended in order that Pharaoh might have it in his power to relent and to ‘set his heart,’ that is, to humble and change it, and become obedient to the word of the Lord; for after five plagues had already been wrought upon him, and that he still persisted, even then his punishment was withheld; in order to let him repent, if he would. Besides which, the delay afforded a far more conspicuous testimony of God’s patience, and gave greater dignity to his wrath.
“Pharaoh’s final obduracy therefore was not caused by God’s will, but was the effect of his own previous obstinacy;—that he hardened his heart was his sin;—that the Lord permitted him to harden it, was his punishment.”
My uncle said also that a Hebrew scholar told him that the word which is translated by theverb tohardenin the above text is, in other parts of the Bible, translated, togrieveor totrouble; and that, in his opinion, the construction of the sentence requires one of those words.
“In several parts of the English Bible,” continued my uncle, “shallis put in the place ofwill. For instance, in Exodus ix. 4. ‘And the Lord shall sever between the cattle,’ where the sense evidently requireswill; and thus, ch. vii. 4, and xi. 9, ‘Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you,’ should undoubtedly be rendered ‘Pharaohwillnot hearken unto you.’ This agrees exactly with the principle I have already mentioned, that verbs active sometimes signify permission.”
My uncle mentioned several other instances of this confusion betweenshall, which seems to ordain, andwill, which only foretels. And he added, “There are several of these minor faults and mistakes in our translation, which make it very important that we should never judge of detached passages, but that we should compare different parts of the Bible together, in order that they may throw light upon each other.”
21st.—I forgot to tell you in the right part of my journal, that in preparing my carnation beds, the gardener observed a great number of those wire-worms, which are so destructive to all the pink tribe. I recollected that Mr. Biggs said that salt destroyed them, but that it was difficultto apply just the right proportion; that is, enough to kill the worms, but not enough to render the ground sterile—which a great quantity of salt certainly does. In talking of this to my uncle, it occurred to him that the stuff called salt dross, which is often thrown away, would be a mild form of applying salt; and he was so kind and indulgent, that he procured, not without much trouble and difficulty, a boat-load; it is of an odd purplish brown colour, and retains many saline particles.
To each of my intended carnation beds, which are about six feet long and two feet broad, we put a wheelbarrow full of this stuff, which the gardener dug in, and thoroughly mixed with the earth. The beds were then thrown up in high ridges, to remain so for the winter, during which the salt will, my uncle thinks, destroy these mischievous worms, as well as the snail eggs.
If this succeeds, it will be a very satisfactory experiment, but many months must pass before we can ascertain its success.
This was done a few days before my uncle went to town.
22nd.—I have had another walk with my uncle to-day, in the beech-walk, of which he has made me so fond. I took that opportunity of asking him why some trees lose their leaves in winter, and others preserve them; for the fallof the leaf has been a subject of great curiosity to me, and I felt quite sure that he could explain the cause clearly. But he told me that it has never been satisfactorily accounted for, and that there is some objection to every opinion yet published. He says it would be a very good pursuit for my cousins and myself, to begin a course of observations on the nature of leaves and leaf-buds, and their connexion with the stem; and he has offered a prize, as he says they do in the learned societies, to whichever amongst us takes the best view of the subject.
I asked, was it not caused by frost? “It is not always the effect of autumnal frost,” he replied. “Some trees seem to lose their leaves at stated times, independently of the temperature. They fall from the lime, for instance, before any frost happens; and indeed all deciduous leaves, as the season advances, become gradually more rigid, less juicy, lose their down, and at last change their healthy green colour to a yellow or reddish hue.”
He then asked me if I had observed anything of the order in which the different trees cast them. I answered that the walnut and horse-chesnut appeared to have lost their leaves before any other: then the sycamore and lime, and I believed the ash had soon followed; but that many of the elm, and most of the beech andoak trees were still well covered, though they had changed colour.
“Yes,” said he, “but the leaves of the young beech, though they have become brown and dry, will not fall till spring; and the fibres of the oak are so tough, that the leaf does not easily separate from the branch. You may also perceive that the apple and peach trees remain green, very often till the beginning of December. Some botanists attribute the defoliation of trees to the drying up of the vessels which connect the leaf with the stem; and others to the swelling of the young buds for the succeeding year. This, they say, deprives the old leaf of its accustomed supply of sap, and as they enlarge, they push it out of their way; but there is a material objection to this theory, that the leafits ofpinnatedleaves fall in the same manner, though there are no buds to push them off.
“It is also supposed that the vessels of the petiole gradually become woody, and incapable of freely transmitting the sap; it therefore stagnates, the vessels become overloaded, and the parts which connect the stem and the leaf crack at the insertion of the petiole. The vessels being thus interrupted, the leaf is no longer supplied with proper nourishment; it loses its elasticity, and becomes dry and brittle; and the least shock, whether the effect of frost or of wind, detaches it.
“Another opinion,” added my uncle, “is, that the fibres of the leaf-stalk are not a simple continuation of those of the twig or branch, but that they both terminate at that point from which the leaf falls; being only connected by a kind of adhesive substance, which dries up when the sap ceases to rise. This point of separation you may easily perceive,” said he, “like a cicatrice, in the form of a ring; and the same appearance of a natural separation is to be seen in the peduncles of flowers, which seem also to be attached by a sort of vegetable solder to the stem.”
“But, uncle, why then do not leaves fall much sooner, if they are so slightly attached to the stem?”
“Because this adhesive substance is a strong cement, as long as it is supplied by the vegetable juices. If you attempt to remove the stalk elsewhere than at that point where it is united, the fibres are lacerated; and this proves that the separation had been prepared for at that one point, by some peculiar organization which acts independently of frost or rain, or other external causes.”
My uncle then shewed me the ring which marks the point of separation. It is most easily seen in autumn, he says; it is double in the orange, and in the berberry he shewed me that it is above the point of contact between the leaf and branch, so that after the fall of the leaf, therudiment of the foot-stalk remains to preserve the bud. He took the trouble of pointing out a little triangle of thorns behind the young bud, which seems to be another beautiful contrivance of nature for its protection in that bush. We then observed this point of separation in other trees whose leaves were not at all gone, and he told me that it is very strongly marked in the horse-chesnut with five small dots.
I begged my uncle to tell me what I should particularly pay attention to in the course of our observations.
He said that as it has never yet been ascertained whether the leaves spring from the wood or from the bark, he would advise us not merely to observe the progress of the buds, but to take every means of tracing their connection with the interior. We may examine with his microscope all sorts of twigs, to see whether the vessels of the central part of the wood extend to the leaf-stalk; and he suggests that we should very carefully observe the difference of structure in evergreen leaves, and in those which perish in the autumn. He recommends us to lose no further time in beginning our task on the few remaining leaves, in order that we may see in spring whether evergreens shed their leaves in the same manner; and we are also to ascertain when their buds are actually formed. “Above all,” he says, “I advise you to take nothing forgranted—examine every thing with your own eyes, and learn facts.”
I shall like this employment very much, and Mary, Frederick, and myself have agreed to work in concert. Both my uncle and aunt encourage us; they say it will afford a large field for very entertaining experiments, and they think that inquiries of this sort are highly useful to young people.
23d.—The fields which were ploughed and sown with wheat not above two months ago, are now of a beautiful green; how hardy it must be, to withstand the severe weather, which I am told may soon be expected! My uncle says, that wheat grows in every variety of climate, except in regions of extreme cold.
It has not been ascertained of what country wheat was a native, and it is certainly a very remarkable fact, that, though cultivated so generally, no wild plants of those species that are used in agriculture have been found, though one of our late travellers imagined that he found it in the mountains of Thibet.
The ploughs are still at work preparing the ground for oats to be sown in spring; or they are laying it up in fallows. The potatoes have all been dug long ago, and safely packed in houses, to preserve them from the frost, which spoils them. My uncle says, that, though potatoes are more used than formerly, they are not such a general article of food as in Ireland. The custom there is to store them in pits covered with a high mound of clay, which by excluding the air delays the progress of vegetation in the root, until the time of replanting returns.
“It is quite astonishing,” my aunt remarked last night, “how the cultivation of potatoes has spread since they were first discovered in South America, and imported by the Spaniards, who called thempapas. Sir Walter Raleigh found them afterwards in Virginia; he introduced them into this country in 1596, and there is now scarcely a civilized spot on the earth to which we have not distributed them. Even to Persia, this valuable root has been conveyed by the benevolent exertions of our envoy, Sir John Malcolm; and at Abusheher the grateful inhabitants call it Malcolm’s plum.”
I have been very busy this morning clearing away all dead stalks and leaves in my garden, and completing the borders, which I have edged with thrift; and all my seed-beds have been lightly covered to preserve them from the expected frost.
The gardener is going to try two new methods of raising pine-apples; for my uncle always likes to ascertain truth by experiment. A great pit is to be filled with withered leaves, which in decaying undergo a fermentation that produces sufficient heat to answer the purpose; and in this pit the pots of pine plants are to be plunged. The second method is to place the pine-pots on a brick stand, in a moderate heat, and without being plunged in either tan or leaves. He is a most valuable gardener, and finds time for many nice little experiments without ever neglecting his regular work. All his carrot, parsnip, and beet roots are taken up and preserved in dry sand; he is now sowing celery under glass frames for an early crop for next year; and Mary says they have had celery every day since July, in Continual succession, as he constantly earthed it up, adding still to the height of the earthing in order to increase its size and whiteness. His peas and beans he sowed three weeks ago in the warm border in front of the south fruit-wall. He is now going to protect them from frost by branches of fir-trees, and he hopes to have some ready for the table by the second week in May.
What a contrast there is between the labour and attention necessary here for all these vegetable productions, and the luxuriance with which they spring up in Brazil! But there is a pleasure I am sure in successful industry, that is scarcely understood by the indolent inhabitants of those warm and fertile climates.
25th.—Yesterday being a bright lovely day, my uncle and aunt took advantage of it to go toNewnham to see the poor travellers, of whom we had heard nothing for some time.
Beyond all our hopes they found Bertram considerably better. My aunt had requested her own physician to attend him, and he is now so much recovered, that if the weather continue mild he is to set out to-morrow on his way home. The old gentleman arrived last week; and though great agitation was caused at first by their meeting, yet it seemed to have a favorable effect on Bertram, as the anxiety and fear of never seeing his poor old father again had preyed on his mind.
Madeleine’s spirits are a little improved; she allows herself once more to hope, but she is prepared to submit with true Christian resignation to whatever happens. She is relieved too from all anxiety in regard to her new father; he received her as a daughter, and expresses the greatest tenderness for her and her pretty little child; who has learned to say “dear grandpapa” among the few English words she has picked up.