In these dreary plains a pretty little species of marmot is found; it is called the “Prairie-dog,” from a supposed resemblance of its cry to the hurried barking of a dog. The habits of this animal are so social, that they live together in burrows which are called “Prairie-dog villages,” and which sometimes spread to the extent of many miles; the entrance of each burrow is through a small mound of earth, of a foot or eighteen inches high, on the summit of which the little animals sit and bark, and flourish their tails; but they plunge in, on the least appearance of danger. In winter, they become torpid, having first securely closed up the entrance of their burrows, and made a nest of fine dry grass with a small opening just large enough toadmit a finger, and so compact, that it might be rolled along the floor without injury. The burrowing owl is said to inhabit these plains also, dwelling in burrows of the same description as those of the prairie-dog.
24th.—This day, our good friend, Mrs. P. left us—I am very sorry to lose her; and, so indeed, is every person in the house.
She had promised, you know, to tell me her history, but circumstances induced her to put it on paper, and I shall lose no time in transcribing it for your amusement, my dear mamma.
She was anxious to return to her father and mother, as her boys spent this vacation with Mr. Crispin, a very old friend.
To-morrow, as soon as the Lumleys go away, I shall begin to copy her history.
26th.—My indulgent uncle had requested the gardener, or any one who happened to find a dormouse, to bring it to him; and Franklin, in stubbing up an old hollow root of a tree, luckily found one of those little fat creatures fast asleep. It is more plump, but very like a common mouse; the nose is blunter, and its tail is not so pointed; it is of a dun red all over, except the throat, which is white. It lay in a most comfortable little nest of woven grass, which has not beendisturbed; and beside it there was a small collection of nuts and acorns.
My aunt has lent me a cage, and we shall see whether the warmth of the house can overcome its habit of sleeping during the rest of the winter; but I shall not for some days put it into a warm room; it shall be treated as if it had been frozen, and revived very gradually.
The same person, my uncle says, who tried the experiment on crickets, which I mentioned to you a fortnight ago, shut up some garden snails in a wafer-box, where he secluded them from food and water; but not from air, for he made several small holes in the box. He also put a few snails into a bottle from which all air was excluded; they, of course, died; but those in the perforated boxes retired into their shells, the aperture of which they closed with a thin membrane; and there they remained apparently dead, as long as they were kept dry. On being dropped into water of the temperature of 70°, they were found quite alive in four hours, and sticking to the plate which covered the vessel. One large snail was imprisoned for three years, and yet it revived on being put into water.
I was told a most singular instance of the length of time for which life may be suspended in those animals. Some snail-shells had for many years formed part of a little museum; one night the window of the room was leftopen; heavy rain beat into the case which had not been shut; and the next day, what had been considered only specimens of shells, were found crawling about the walls.
This faculty, however, is not peculiar to snails; for M. Socoloff, a Russian, found that some flies and small beetles, which had been long immersed in spirit of wine, had returned to life on being thrown into warm wood ashes. He was astonished at seeing the flies start up, and, after wiping the dust from their wings, fly away as if nothing had happened.
29th, Sunday.—My uncle told us this morning, that the book of Leviticus was so called, because it describes the sacrifices and services of the tabernacle, which were to be performed by the tribe of Levi. He then read to us some of the chapters, and he answered in the kindest manner the questions which we all put to him, about the different offerings, and the regulations to be observed by the priests.
As he closed the book, he said, “The object of these observances has passed away with the Mosaic dispensation, and it is now only necessary to understand their general tendency. Sacrifices and offerings had been established in the infancy of mankind, and, though perverted by folly and idolatry, they continued to form a part of every worship in every country. It wasthe universal belief that sins could only be expiated by corresponding sacrifices of what was most valued; and gratitude for worldly blessings and riches seemed to demand some proportionate offerings.
“Sacrifices, offerings, and ceremonies were a kind ofrepresentative, or figurative worship. Compared with the present state of the world, the people of those days had few abstract ideas; even their arts, and sciences, and particularly their religious systems, were in a great degree described by allegories, types, and hieroglyphics; and though we can with difficulty see the connexion now, it is probable that every outward rite that was then enjoined to the Israelites, was really typical of some inward principle of virtue, or of some distinct point of faith. Taken altogether, it is certain that their object was to discipline that stubborn people into obedience—to preserve them from the surrounding idolatries—to keep them separate from all other nations, as depositaries of the revealed truth—to train them for the reception of a new dispensation—and, above all, they were designed to prefigure the great and final atoning sacrifice of the Messiah.”
30th.—The weather has been so soft and mild for the last week, that it seems as if we had only dreamt of frost and snow. After the thaw, the ground, and even the walks, were so wet, that wecould not go out of doors with any comfort, and as I had a little cold, I stayed in the house for a few days; so I was the more surprised at seeing what a change has taken place. The wheat-fields look greener than ever; the buds of the lilac and sycamore are swelling, and the woodbine leaves are actually bursting open. The flower-buds on the mezereon, which Mary showed me last September, are now opening; and a few scattered flowers, which are quite blown out, shew us their pretty pink faces, and promise a delightful smell. But, more than all, the snow-drops have already appeared, and in the sheltered spots there are many bunches of them quite opened. It is the most innocent, modest looking little flower; and with its pure and delicate white, forms a charming contrast to the dirty appearance of the walks.
The snow-drop bloomsEre winter’s storms are past,As she shrinks belowHer mantle of snowAnd trembling shuns the blast.
The snow-drop bloomsEre winter’s storms are past,As she shrinks belowHer mantle of snowAnd trembling shuns the blast.
The snow-drop bloomsEre winter’s storms are past,As she shrinks belowHer mantle of snowAnd trembling shuns the blast.
Feb. 1st.—Dreary as this season is, I find it better than I had expected; but, indeed, there is so much pursuit and rational occupation in this house, that it is impossible to feel any day gloomy.
We have now a return of frost, and besides those birds which venture into the house, there are several others which crowd round it in flocksto seek for food. Sparrows, chaffinches, and yellow-hammers are to be seen every day at the barn-doors, pecking what they can find; and Mary has shewn me the larks, sheltering themselves in the stubble; and the thrushes, blackbirds, and even fieldfares, nestling together under the hedges, as if endeavouring to console each other.
While the ground was covered with snow, I saw the black-headed titmouse come every day to a thatched shed in the yard, and with its back downwards, draw out the straws lengthways from the eaves of the shed, in order to seize the flies concealed between them; and I assure you, such numbers came to one spot, that they quite spoiled the appearance of the thatch, Mary says they are very useful in searching for thelarvæof thetortrix, those ingenious caterpillars, that disfigure the leaves of fruit-trees by rolling them up for their houses. Gardeners, she says, are very ungrateful to these birds; for, supposing that they attack the blossoms, they are destroyed without mercy. They are, however, eaters of bees, so that they must be considered somewhat mischievous.
They are easily tamed and taught little tricks, such as drawing up a bucket. Mary placed some almonds yesterday on a sheltered bank; in a short time one of these little black-heads came, and grasping the largest of them in hisclaw, broke the shell by repeatedly striking it with his sharp bill, and then dexterously drew out the kernel.
My uncle walked with us to-day to Farmer Moreland’s, that we might see what out-of-door work was going on in this frosty weather. Besides drawing manure into the fields, while the ground is hard, we found his men busy in mending the hedges and fences; and now that the roads are pretty smooth, he will employ his team in carrying hay and corn to market. Afterwards, if the frost should continue, he says he will draw coals, which will be no great trouble—there are so many coal-pits in the forest. We heard the cheerful sound of theflailsas we passed his barn;—he was threshing out all his barley to sell for making malt. As we walked home my uncle told me the process of malting.
“Beer is, you know,” said he, “a fermented liquor, made generally from barley after it has been converted into malt; as in its natural state it would produce but an imperfect fermentation.
“The grain is first steeped for two or three days in water, that it may soak and swell to a certain degree. The water being then drained off, it is laid on the floor in a heap of about two feet high, when, with the warmth of the house and the imbibed moisture, it begins togerminate, and to shoot out its radicle; which is checkedby spreading it out thinner, and frequently turning it over with wooden shovels to cool it. These operations require several days, and it is then thrown into the malt-kiln and slightly baked. The time it is kept there, and the heat to which the kiln is raised, depend on the kind of beer to be brewed, and the required colour for the malt; it is however enough for you to know, that from eight to twelve hours is sufficient; and that from 130° to 160° of the thermometer gives all the varieties of colour from pale ale to the brownest porter. By this process the grain undergoes a material change; it acquires a saccharine or sweet quality which it did not possess before, and which is destroyed if either the germination or the kiln-drying are carried too far. It also loses a large proportion of the mucilage that it contained; which is the reason why the flour of wheat that has been sowed in wet weather is generally bad; the grain partially heats in the stacks, a tendency to germinate takes place, and there is, therefore, a deficiency of that nutritious part, the mucilage. In this case the flour is said to bemalty.
“This accounts for the bad paste which your aunt had some days ago; it was made of malty flour, and you know it had not the adhesive quality of good paste.”
3rd.—How pleasant it is to find somechance circumstance relative to any subject about which we have been interested. Here is something that I found in Scoresby’s Journal; and it seems quite to agree with my uncle’s opinion.
“This night stars were seen for the first time during fifteen weeks, the sky being beautifully clear. The sea, as usual on such occasions began to freeze as soon as the sun descended within four or five degrees of the horizon, though the temperature of the air was considerably above the freezing point. Whether the heat of the water be radiated into the atmosphere, according to the theory of Dr. Wells, or whether a cold influence of the atmosphere be conveyed to the water, may be a doubtful question; but the fact, that the water more rapidly loses its heat when exposed to the full aspect of a cloudless sky, is certain. In cloudy weather no freezing of the sea ever occurs, I believe, till the temperature of the air is below 29°: but in the instance now alluded to, the freezing commenced when the temperature was 36°, being about 8° above the freezing point of sea water.”
5th, Sunday.—My uncle said to-day that, before we quitted the subject of the Jewish sacrifices, he had a few more observations to make, to which he requested our attention.
“In a worldly point of view,” he said, “thepunctual performance of all those rites, and a strict obedience to the ceremonial law, were the terms on which the Israelites were to inherit the land of Canaan; and in a spiritual sense they were to be considered as the means of sharing the benefit of that great sacrifice of Christ which was to lead to the inheritance of the heavenly Canaan. The institution of animal sacrifice had continued until the giving of the law, no offering but that of an animal being mentioned in scripture up to this period, except that of Cain, which was rejected. But when the law was ordained, we find that the connexion between animal sacrifice and atonement was clearly and distinctly announced; and that certain prescribed offerings were to be accepted as the means of deliverance from the penal consequences of sin.
“He who presented a sin-offering was commanded to lay his hands upon the head of the animal, as a confession of his own guilt, and as an acknowledgment that the punishment he deserved was, by the gracious forbearance of God, transferred to the victim. On these terms the offering was accepted, and a conditional pardon granted. The Hebrew word for sin-offering includes the sense of cleansing, expiating, and making satisfaction; and therefore every sin-offering, 1st, implied contrition and repentance; 2dly, an humble hope of averting a just chastisement by this figurative retribution;—and 3rdly, a firm belief in the efficacy of the great final atonement. The Jews well knew,” added my uncle, “that none of these sacrifices had in themselves sufficient value to clear the criminal, or to procure his pardon; they knew that they were only instituted as a public avowal of his crime, and as a type of the perfect expiation to be afterwards made by Christ for the sins of mankind.
“It was indeed the object of all the sacrifices of the Mosaic ritual, to impress the people with the necessity of expiation, even for involuntary offences; and to fix in their minds that awful maxim, as St. Paul expresses it, that ‘without shedding of blood there is no remission.’ This lesson was inculcated in the earliest sacrifice upon record—when respect was had to Abel’s sacrifice of the firstlings of his flock, rather than to the husbandman’s offering of the fruit of his ground; and afterwards in the covenant with Noah, as well as in various parts of the Mosaic law, where blood was in the most absolute way prohibited to be eaten, as being a holy thing consecrated to the purpose of general expiation. This expiatory virtue, however, the apostles emphatically say, belonged not to the blood of bulls and of goats, but to the blood of Christ, of which the other was only a temporary emblem.”
My uncle then read to us the several parts ofScripture to which he had alluded; and he added, that though we are now ignorant of the particular object of the ceremonies and minute directions for the sacrifices and offerings, we may perceive that solemnity and reverence were strongly enforced in all, with an exactness of obedience to lesser regulations, which shews that neither must we neglect the smaller duties while we obey the ‘weightier matters of the law.’
6th.—A number of curious circumstances were mentioned at breakfast in a conversation on the force of habit, not only in animals, but in vegetables; and my uncle thinks it is a subject on which further inquiry would not be more interesting to the philosopher than useful to the farmer and gardener. I have only time to write a very little of what he said.
He told us that there are several plants, which have been naturalised in cold climates by bringing them there step by step. Rice he gave as one instance: it is a native of the East Indies, within the torrid zone, but was early cultivated in South Carolina, the Canaries, and the northern parts of Africa; and about a hundred years ago it was sown in Italy. It has ever since been creeping towards the north of Europe, and there are now very large plantations of rice on the banks of the Weser. It is, however, necessary in Germany to use the seed which has been ripenedthere; that of Carolina will not thrive at all, and Italian seed but indifferently, being destitute of that power of withstanding cold, which the German rice has acquired by habit.
Another example of the gradual effect of habit on plants my uncle learned from the late Dr. Walker. The Brazilian passion-tree is, you know, an evergreen in its native country; but when the Doctor was a boy in 1773, some plants of it near Edinburgh annually lost their leaves. During his life, however, they became gradually enured to the climate; and he says that in his latter years, in sheltered situations, they have retained their foliage through the whole winter.
I asked my uncle whether those plants, which have come from a warmer region, and are naturalised here, flower later in this climate than in their own.
“The times of the appearance of vegetables in the spring seem,” said he, “to be influenced by early acquired habits, as well as by sensibility to heat. That same Dr. Walker, whom I mentioned a few minutes ago, had some very singular ideas on this subject: his opinion was, that plants removed from one climate to another, generally observe their original season of flowering, unless prevented by some powerful cause. The climate of Spain and Portugal in December and January suits the flowering of the laurestinus; and you have seen that the cold of Gloucestershire inthose months was not sufficient to deter it from following its old habits. In the northern parts of Scotland, however, it does not flower till April. Dr. Walker thought the flowering of any shrub in winter in this climate was an indubitable proof of its not being a native; and he therefore supposes the arbutus to have been a native of Iceland: in the fact, I believe, he is right; but, when the similarity of the climates is considered, it is rather a whimsical proof of his doctrine.
“He gives, however, several instances of plants brought from the southern hemisphere, which flower there at the time that the sun is in the tropic of Capricorn, and which adhere in this country to their old December rule, without obeying the influence of the sun when in Cancer.”
I afterwards met my uncle in the garden, where he showed me an immense quantity of buds on the peach trees, and took great pains in teaching me the difference between the flower buds and leaf buds—the former short, thick, broad and full, with a downy covering;—the leaf buds much less downy, longer, and not so thick. In a few weeks, he says, I am to see these trees in full flower, notwithstanding this wintery weather.
7th.—From all I had heard Colonel Travers say about rice, I imagined that its cultivationwas almost confined to India; and I had no idea till yesterday that it grew in North America, and even in Germany. I renewed therefore the conversation to-day, and I now find that it is so much cultivated in Spain, particularly in the low parts of the province of Valencia, that a very large quantity is exported every year.
The ground is prepared for it there by first sowing beans; and when they come into blossom, which is about March, they are ploughed in for manure, and flooded with water to the depth of four inches. After a third ploughing the rice is sown; and when it comes up, it is transplanted to another prepared field, and again covered with water. Each stem produces about twenty-four fold. When ripe it is gathered in sheaves, and put into a mill, the lower grinding-stone of which is covered with cork, by which means the chaff is separated without bruising the grain.
My aunt tells me that rice grows wild in the swamps of Upper Canada; and that the shallow parts of Rice Lake, which is near the residence of Mrs. * * *, is full of it. Her letters describe it as having the appearance of reeds with long narrow leaves, and bearing clusters of flowers at the top of the stem.
It is curious that the plant chiefly cultivated in the Sandwich Islands for food is managed very like rice;—thetaro, to grow in perfection,requiring irrigation. The fields are divided for that purpose, like the rice grounds of the East, into small squares which may be easily flooded, and the roots are planted in rows. The root of the taro when roasted resembles the yam; but it is usually pounded into a paste, and then mixed with water, so as to become of the consistence of porridge.
The Sandwich Islands are nearer to you than to England, and yet perhaps you do not know, dear mamma, that although the bread-fruit is the most important of all their vegetables, they have another very useful one, calledTeeby the natives. The root is sweet, and produces a pleasant liquor, but a little intoxicating. The leaves woven together form a light cloak for the inhabitants of the mountains;—something like those formed of the palm leaves by the poorer natives of Hindostan, to shelter them while at work in the open fields. Fences are often formed by planting the tee roots close together; but what makes the plant particularly remarkable is, that a stalk of it is with them the symbol of peace, as a branch of olive is with us.
Of the bark of the paper mulberry that ingenious people manufacture very nice cloth; they make beautiful mats from the leaves of their palm trees; and you know what pretty cloaks and caps of feathers have been broughthome from all those islands. They even stamp their cloth with patterns; and their weapons and bowls are highly carved. “This shews,” my aunt says, “that whenever people arrive at a certain point of civilization, that is, as soon as their food and other necessaries of life are surely and regularly supplied, the ornamental arts as surely follow.”
She afterwards added, that she thought it would be a very nice winter amusement for us to describe to each other the arts and luxuries as well as the principal natural productions of the different parts of the globe.
My uncle approved of this idea, and we are to try it sometimes as we sit after dinner round the fire. I fear I am quite too ignorant to attempt to bear a part; but I am sure I shall be delighted to listen.
8th.—The sun rose this morning so brilliantly, and the distant hills looked so remarkably blue and clear, that I was sure we should have a fine day and a long walk; but my uncle told me that, at this season, both of those appearances indicate rain; and he took me to the barometer, and shewed me, by his meteorological journal, that the mercury had beengraduallyfalling ever since Monday night, and that it was very hollow on its upper surface. From all this he thinks there will be some days of continued badweather. Accordingly, before breakfast was well over, the clouds began to collect about the mountain tops, and it is now raining. I have already made some progress in transcribing Mrs. P.’s memoir for my dear mamma; and if his prediction be correct, I shall have time to finish it before the return of dry weather.
Mrs. P.’s Narrative.
I am now going to fulfil my promise, Bertha, by giving you a sketch of my life; and as I shall begin by a detail of those early circumstances which have unceasingly influenced its happiness or misery, there will seldom be occasion to interrupt my narrative in order to point out their consequences. You will have no difficulty in perceiving how inevitably my errors led to their punishment; how certainly the heart is corrupted by selfish indulgence; and how pursuits that in themselves are laudable may become pernicious, if not controlled by a sense of duty.
I was unfortunately what is called a very promising child, quick in all my perceptions, and equally capable of retaining the knowledge I so readily acquired. My parents, delighted at my progress, were proud of their child; and by friends and visiters I was considered a prodigy. This injudicious praise had so powerful an effect, that when I was about twelve years old I determined to lay aside the common amusements of children, and to become a singular and distinguished character. My ambition was the more easily fostered, as in our retired situation we had but few neighbours; and, therefore, an occasional interview with their children, or a chance visit from my cousins, supplied me but scantily with opportunities of giving way to the natural activity of youth, or of having my pedantry successfully ridiculed by companions of my own age.
The pleasure which I had formerly taken in learning whatever was difficult, in order to astonish my mother, now became a real wish for knowledge; and as my ardour increased every year, I studied many subjects which are not in the usual course of female education. Though my mother would by no means have approved of such pursuits for other young ladies, yet so great was my influence, that I was not only uncontrolled by her, but even assisted by my father as far as his own powers permitted.
The attainments of either were very limited: they had amiable but narrow views of life; they were devoted to each other, and to their children; and to the poor around them, they were actively useful and benevolent. But their income was moderate, and my mother was obliged to practise the most indefatigable economy in order to ensure to her family those comfortswhich she thought they were entitled to enjoy, as well as to enable her to assist those whom she considered as dependent on her bounty; and at the same time to save something every year as a provision for her children. About all this I then knew or cared but little; I was insensible to the merit of her steady perseverance in these duties, and thought very lightly of the talents necessary for such management; or I thought of them, only to regret that intellectual creatures could waste so much of their existence upon such vulgar labours.
I have in latter years often wondered how my mother’s plain good sense could be so blinded by partiality, that she never even tried to conquer my absurd fancies, and, by forcing me into obedience, to teach me to be useful; indeed, it is most painful to me now to think of her generous but ill-judged forbearance.
While she was engaged in superintending her servants, or instructing my young brothers, or occupied in needle-work for us all during whole days, with scarcely the interruption of a walk, or the indulgence of a book, I was pouring over my high-flown studies; perhaps, reading Horace with one brother, or conquering mathematical difficulties with the other; or, seated under an old ilex-tree in the lawn, writing verses. Sometimes, to gratify my mother, I condescended to practise on the piano-forte; but this was one ofthe secondary employments which I despised; a thing for show; a silly waste of time; nothing that could benefit mankind by the developement of the human understanding.
When I was eighteen, my philosophical enthusiasm became so great, that every moment seemed lost which was not devoted to scientific pursuits. To waste that time and those powers which were given me for the noblest purposes, in the common nothings of life; to sit with my friends listening to the trifling gossip of the country, or to home-spun discussions, were sacrifices to which I would seldom submit, and I always broke away from them with undissembled scorn.
Many a lonely hour that she has passed repairing the clothes of which I disdained to take care, I might have cheered her by my company; or enlivened my father’s evenings by a little simple music, in which he delighted. But conceit and selfishness always accompany each other; and, what is more to the point, always lay the foundation of their own punishment; the very talents and pursuits which, under proper control, ornament and raise the female character, became by their abuse my incessant bane. I had the pride of human intellect; and prayed for knowledge: alas! I never prayed for wisdom, nor for humility.
I will give you an instance of my odious selfishness, because it shews how short the space is between right and wrong. I went one evening to the drawing-room in search of my brother, but he was not there. My father had a book open near him, though he was not reading; my mother was working, and both looking sad and anxious; I was quickly retiring out of the room, when my father, stretching out his hand, and drawing me gently towards him said, “Gertrude, my love, stay with us. We have had some unpleasant news to-day. Your poor mother and I are too low-spirited to amuse each other; and we want you, my dear child, to cheer us a little.”
“Yes, papa,” said I, “I will come as soon as I can,” and I hurried away.—I shall never forget his look of disappointment.—Can you believe it?—I was so callous to every good feeling that I coolly sat down to finish some mathematical question in which I had been engaged, before I condescended to return!—But you will ask—had I no principles, no sense of duty or religion to guide me?—Yes, I had principles, but they were always warped by some silly enthusiasm: I had religion, but it was that sort of highly wrought sentiment which produces no good fruits: it was very spiritual I thought, but it had little influence on my actions.
My mother was anxious to bring me more into the world; and I complained myself sometimesof the want of amusement; but I professed to despise company of all kinds: dancing was an absurd waste of life, and the stiff country dinners were tiresome. Had my vanity, indeed, been more gratified at the balls and parties to which I was taken, I should, probably, have liked them amazingly; but the truth was, the ladies thought me learned, and were afraid of me, and neither my appearance nor my conversation pleased the other sex; I therefore discovered that such occupations offered but little enjoyment to a cultivated mind.
When I arrived at the age of twenty-four, I was a strange compound of selfishness and sentiment, of folly and learning. Of every species of useful knowledge I was ignorant; to make or mend my clothes I considered degrading; and all the details of domestic economy I treated with contempt. My mother reasoned with me, but in vain; my father interfered, but it was too late; my habits were formed. My parents could not always conceal their feelings of disappointment, and I withdrew more than ever to my own ideal world of poetry and science, and to studies which, I cannot too often repeat, are praiseworthy only when kept in due subordination. My father once said to me with tears in his eyes, “The time will come, Gertrude, when you will feel your mistake,”—and it did indeed come.
Mr. P., a college friend of my brother’s, came to visit him about this time, and spent a week at our house. He was as enthusiastic as myself, ardent in science, and perfect in classical literature; he was, in a word, the most amiable and accomplished person I had ever known. Pleased with my conversation, he paid us repeated visits, and without sufficiently studying my character, he sought to win my hand. It was the most foolish thing that Mr. P. ever did!
The attentions of such a man were irresistible; he really gained my heart, and I soon consented; anticipating with delight, as I told my mother, a life devoted to him and to science. My father, however, entirely disapproved of the match, as Mr. P. had a very small fortune, and as it was too obvious that I was unfit to be a poor man’s wife. I exerted all my former influence to coax him into acquiescence; but the most I could obtain was that, instead of an absolute refusal, he insisted on our waiting for a year, that we might each have time to understand the duties and difficulties of a married life.
I had been accustomed, not merely to indulgence, but almost to deference. Gertrude’s opinion had always been consulted; her advice had always prevailed; and was she now, and in a matter of such importance, to be controlled likea child! “No, sir,” said I, “Mr. P. ismychoice, and I will not risk my happiness by submitting to any delay.”
My father persisted, though there was a painful struggle in his affectionate mind; and my mother tried the effect of persuasion with me, but my passionate temper would brook no restraint. At length one of my brothers became alarmed and thought it right to intercede; he mildly opened their eyes to the conviction that my determined character was their own work, and that it was now too late to retrace their steps. He pointed out to them the dislike I had excited in the neighbourhood by my contemptuous and satirical conduct to everybody; and the ill effect that the reaction of that feeling might have in still further hardening my disposition; and he endeavoured to convince them that a husband’s influence was the only chance left of withdrawing me from the follies they lamented. He then urged the family, the education, and the manners of Mr. P., who had every thing but wealth to recommend him; and earnestly implored my father to relent.
He succeeded. Mr. P. was accepted, and settlements were now to be discussed; but scorning all inquiry into the income of one whom I loved only for his merit, I indignantly exclaimed:—
Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine?Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?
Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine?Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?
Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine?Can we dig peace or wisdom from the mine?
We were married—and went home to a sweet little place which Mr. P. had on the banks of Ulleswater.—The estate was small, but had been in his family for ages; the house was a two-story building of olden times with projecting windows; it was situated in a valley which was sheltered from every cold blast, and altogether looked as if it must be a happy home.
“You are mistress of this humble place, Gertrude,” said Mr. P.; “and over my purse you have unbounded power. Your wishes are moderate, and you well know that our expenses must be limited by discretion. This property has been sufficient for my father and my ancestors; I hope you will assist me in preserving it free from debt and incumbrance for my successors. Of few things I have a greater horror than the disgrace of debt. Remember then, dearest Gertrude, that in our present situation economy becomes an essential duty.”
I considered this speech as so very devoid of sentiment, that I did not deign to reply.
In a few weeks, my mother came to visit us; in her own kind manner, she assisted me in my domestic arrangements, with as much anxiety, I thought, as if matter of life or death; and having established me with good servants, and put into my head more ideas than I had ever admitted before on the subject, she left me in a very happy state.
The summer did pass happily. Mr. P. had such a variety of tastes, and so kindly adapted them to mine; we enjoyed so much our studies at home; our mineralogical and botanical rambles; and our sketching and boating parties, that our life glided away in real felicity. As autumn and winter advanced, we spent less time out of doors, and more was given to our visiters, who remarked that now there might be some chance of seeing us comfortably. But the house was never comfortable to visiters. My dinners were ill arranged, and every thing was irregular. An old gentleman, who had been intimate with Mr. P.’s father, and who continued the warm friend and counsellor of the son, used frequently to ride over of a frosty day to dine and sleep; or sometimes called upon us for luncheon after he had been shooting. But he always came at some unfortunate time; when our dinner was shabby, or ordered at some late hour: or perhaps there was no fire to warm him after a cold ride; the unswept hearth strewed with cinders; the room all littered, no one to receive him, and when I did appear, probably my dress untidy, and a frown on my brow. He had long had the habit of speaking his mind, and very mortifying things he sometimes said, which made me hate him.
“Why, madam,” (a beginning which, from him, always shewed displeasure,) “you seem tohave a fresh cargo of new books every time I come here. Let me see—Chemistry, Botany, Geology, Italian Tales, and Scotch novels. All admirable food for the mind, to be sure; but we old fashioned folk are vulgar enough to like a little comfortable food for the body, also. Economy turned upside down.”
I had determined to make our little place a paradise. The garden, which was to be brilliant at all seasons, was therefore crammed with flowers, and the most beautiful shrubs were to ornament my new walks; a simple pleasure, thought I, to which no one can object. Every week matted parcels of treasures arrived by the coach, from distant nurseries; and as Mr. P. acquiesced in all my suggestions, we planted and worked together. In thus beautifying our place, we never imagined that we could incur any great expense; besides, when the thing to be done was good, I thought it a proof of a narrow mind to consider the cost. For the same reason, I paid no attention to the weekly accounts of my housekeeper. She understands managing much better than I do, and all those little particulars, of a few pence perhaps, are really beneath my notice.
At last we were blessed by the birth of a boy, and I thought my felicity complete.
Alas! whene’er we talk of bliss,How prone we are to judge amiss!
Alas! whene’er we talk of bliss,How prone we are to judge amiss!
Alas! whene’er we talk of bliss,How prone we are to judge amiss!
I had sent to London for all my baby clothes,it seemed such a waste of time to work at them myself. They were beautiful, so was my boy; and so proud was I of him, that I was profuse in my generosity to all his attendants. I determined to nurse him, and to attend him night and day; and so completely was I engrossed by this new occupation, that I quite neglected Mr. P., whose inseparable companion I had been till then.
When I was so much away from him, he had more leisure to perceive the irregularity of the house. And when he went out and mixed with others, he could not help feeling the want of comfort at home. Still he could not bear to think that I was in the wrong.
In two years came another fine little boy, and with him fresh expenses. I just then began to feel that money was not always to be had; long accounts for dress, and fanciful furniture, for new books and scientific journals, for plants, shells, and mineralogical specimens, and a variety of other things equally necessary, came crowding in; and when I asked for money, there was none at command. My husband thought that I had paid for all these articles when I received them; and our ordinary expenses had already absorbed our income. With a blind confidence that almost amounted to weakness, he had trusted to my prudence, and made no inquiries into the household management: perhaps, he too hadbeen a little inconsiderate in his farm and plantations; but far be it from me to shade my own errors by throwing blame on him.
I begged of the people whose bills I could not pay, to wait a little; and to keep them quiet I added debt to debt. But, at last, the crisis came, and these doubled and trebled debts, amounting to an enormous sum, appeared in dreadful array before Mr. P.
Then came demands from the country tradespeople who supplied our house; brewer, butcher, baker, &c.; and then, too, we discovered that the housekeeper, taking advantage of my foolish confidence, had never paid them; she had deceived me by false receipts, and had in every possible way betrayed her trust.
This shock awakened me; I understood the extent of my follies, and too late saw their consequences: I saw Mr. P. sink under the blow, and oh! Bertha, I did then, indeed, feel remorse. But, although wounded in the most sensitive of his feelings, and involved by me in what he had of all things most dreaded, he said he only reproached himself. His kindness never failed; but I saw that I had lost his respect, and that he could no longer rest his happiness on me. I became fretful and truly miserable, and a sort of reserve and mutual coldness gradually took place of that “boundless sympathy of soul” which we had till then enjoyed.
To be in debt, Mr. P. considered a state of actual disgrace, and he would have gladly sold his patrimony to emancipate himself from the load; but it was entailed. There were two other ways, either to raise money on mortgage; or, if his creditors would give him time, to devote the chief part of his income to a fund for the purpose of liquidating their full claims; and, in the mean time, to live on bread and water if necessary. He turned over in his mind also a hundred different schemes for employing his time and talents, so as to augment our means; for I could see, that though he dreaded the privations which I must endure, yet that one of his greatest difficulties was the doubt, whether I could conform to the rigorous parsimony that we were now called on to practise. Anxious for advice, he rode off to consult his old friend and counsellor Mr. Crispin, whom we had not seen for a long time; and I was rather surprised by his return the same evening, as he generally slept at the Hall, when he went there. He looked agitated, and though he treated me with more tenderness than usual, since our misfortune had burst upon him, yet he refused to tell me the result of his consultation.
In the evening, however, after a long silence he suddenly turned round to the table where I was actually endeavouring to discipline myfingers to the use of a needle, and said, “Gertrude, will you be contented to remain here in acknowledged embarrassment, shut up from the world, and endeavouring with me to save and to pay; or, will you for a time return to your father and mother? You know they will receive you with open arms; and you can there have the comforts so necessary to you and our poor little children. I really think it will be the wisest course to ask an asylum from them; for how can you adapt yourself to our present circumstances?”
“If you do not actually drive me from you, my dear Edward,” I replied, “if you will suffer me to remain with you, poignantly as I feel the reproach implied in your proposal, it will be my only consolation to share your difficulties, and to expiate my follies by a devoted economy.”
“I felt—I knew that would be your decision,” said he, as a tear stole down his cheeks. After a few days had passed, Mr. P.’s old friend came to see us; not by any means an agreeable surprise to me, for I dreaded his contempt and rebukes, and I was still but a wayward and only half-humbled creature.
“Well!” said he, entering the room, “I believe I was unreasonable in the plan I proposed; so I am come to try if we can do better. But what did you think of it, madam?”
I told him that it had not been confided to me.
“How so—did not Edward tell it you? How was that, Mr. P.?”
“I did not like to give my wife the pain of knowing that you could have thought so unkindly of her; and as I had no hesitation in regard to my decision, it was not necessary to suggest to her such a cruel idea.”
“It was very generous forbearance on your part,” said he, “for you left me full of indignation. I will tell you myself, Mrs. P. I have lately inherited an estate in Jamaica; I am unable to take possession of it in person, and I proposed that Edward should go as my representative, and manage it for me, as long as his affairs are recovering here. But I made it a positive condition, that he should give you over to your parents’ care, and quietly disencumber himself of a useless, extravagant wife. That, madam, was my scheme. You are shocked, and turn pale; but you must allow that it was very natural advice. However, I begin to think it not quite right to propose such separations, nor is it just to refuse you some trial of amendment. I have come now, therefore, to renew my proposal, without that condition, and to offer a salary double that which I first named. I will undertake the management of your property here; and for this house, I will allow you a fair rent. And now, madam, consider this well, and don’t let yourselfbe angry at me, for I am an old man who deals in plain truth and plain sense.”
Wounded, as I had often been, by the harsh things this old man had said to me, yet his blunt generosity now overcame every feeling but that of gratitude; and before he left us the next day, every thing was arranged with him for our immediate departure. The demesne and all our real improvements were to be kept up; the whole income was to be applied to the payment of the debt, which he undertook to discharge by regular instalments; and our books and some other extravagant purchases, on which I had lavished so much money, were to be sold, if he found it necessary.
In parting from us, he took my hand, for the first time since we had been acquainted, and said, “I do now believe that you are attached to your husband—I am glad you are going with him; and I trust the experience you have so dearly bought, will be of lasting use to you both. I have one word more, and I have kept it for the last, to make the deeper impression. Remember these rules, fix them in your mind, and repeat them daily.
“Buy nothing that you do not absolutely want; and never go in debt for any thing you do want, be it ever so necessary.
“Waste nothing.
“LetORDERpreside in every part of your house.
“Remember, that a drawing-room, though elegantly furnished, is disgusting, if untidy.
“It is no excuse for bad dinners and comfortless rooms, that the mistress is engaged in her laboratory mixing gases, and trying experiments that are known to every apothecary’s apprentice. Women, indeed, may store their minds with knowledge, but then their homely duties must not be neglected.
“Let me hear, that when your husband returns home, after a busy morning, he finds a cheerful house, and a smiling wife; or, as sweet Allan Ramsay would say, ‘a blazing ingle, and a clean hearth stane.’”
With heartfelt sorrow I quitted the place where I had spent the happy beginning of my married life. It seemed as if I was leaving every thing that was dear, and that I never could again enjoy the tranquil life Edward and I had led for six years. Next came the parting with my children and my parents! But I will not touch on the painful struggle between different duties; nor will I mention the distress of mind which my dear father and mother suffered, in consequence of my imprudence. I consigned my dear boys, rosy, smiling, little, lively creatures, to my good mother, and she has truly done them justice.
Our passage to Jamaica was most favourable. Mr. P. took possession of the San Pedro plantation, in the name of Mr. Crispin, and we were immediately settled in the dwelling house attached to it. It consisted of one story only, as most of the houses in that country are so built, to preserve them from hurricanes and earthquakes. A viranda extended along the west and south sides, ornamented with oleanders, African roses, grenadillas, passion flowers, and other lovely plants, trained to the pillars. To the north-west lay a flower garden, inclosed by a hedge of the Barbadoes flower-fence. At ten or twelve feet from the ground, the stem of this beautiful and extraordinary plant divides into several spreading branches, armed at each joint with strong crooked spines; and every branch terminates in a loose spike of flowers, which are something like carnations, and which combine the most glowing mixture of red, orange, and green, accompanied by a strong, but agreeable smell. I shall mention only one more feature of this charming spot: the garden was sheltered by a largePimentagrove; and, as you are acquainted with this beautiful species of myrtle, which produces the allspice, you may imagine how delightful I must have found its fragrance, and its shade, in that sultry climate.
The violent resolutions I had made to abjure my former errors, and to devote myself to my household duties, now led me into the opposite extreme; I entered into every little detail withsuch indefatigable earnestness, and, ignorant of the manners and customs of the West Indies, I made such an infinite number of teasing regulations, that I completely worried my servants and slaves; and even Mr. P., I do believe, thought this extreme the worst. I became so fussy and so busy, that I thought I had time for nothing else, like the Norwegian ladies, whose whole lives are absorbed in domestic drudgery.
One circumstance, however, greatly annoyed my feelings—the being surrounded by slaves. Though they did not, in general, look unhappy, and though they enjoyed many comforts, yet the whole system excited my indignation. You know I had never learned to control or conceal my sentiments, and I now took every opportunity of expressing them with such silly enthusiasm, and so publicly, that I not only offended all the whites, but injured the poor negroes themselves. My imprudent sympathy not only made them feel their degraded situation the more acutely, but materially helped to inflame that spirit of discontent which, more or less, must always accompany slavery; and I really tremble in reflecting how much I may have been accessary to the events which afterwards happened. Yet you will be astonished, Bertha, when I add, that such was the perverse inconsistency of my character, that while overflowing with compassion for these poor creatures, I was a most arbitrary mistressto those who were among our domestics, and tyrannical over all who were under my influence. I had established an evening school for the slaves when their work was done; I did really pay it unremitting attention, and fancied that I found great pleasure in being useful; but I could not bear to have my benevolent intentions thwarted: those who were negligent in their attendance excited a stronger feeling than displeasure; and I blush in confessing that the task-master found it was his interest to treat those who had displeased me with increased severity.
One of the females who worked in the plantation had a very engaging daughter; she had a good figure, spoke English tolerably, and had a quickness and intelligence which particularly pleased me. I had a great wish to have this girl about my person, and at last obtained her, though against her mother’s will. She lived in the house, and was a most useful and good-natured creature; and the rapidity with which she acquired all the knowledge that I could teach, fully justified the high opinion of her that I had formed.
Sometimes, in the intervals of my economical fever, I amused myself in making little collections in natural history; and she endeared herself extremely to me by the zeal with which she entered into all my pursuits. Birds, insects, beetles, spiders, reptiles, were all caught by herdexterity; and the tenderest plants and flowers were laid on my table as fresh as when they were pulled; so that Mr. P. and I were able to examine, at our leisure, all the natural productions of the island. In short, during more than a year and a half, this blameless and innocent girl, Nanina, continued high in my favour, and was treated more like a daughter than a slave. She really loved me, and her efforts to please me were most assiduous. But I had a temper which had never been controlled in youth, and which was still unmanageable. Caprice alone governed it, and I began to grow tired of poor Nanina. Perhaps she might have been sometimes rather too familiar in her manner, but if so, it was my own fault. Always in extremes, I now became dissatisfied with everything she said or did. If she appeared hurt at this unaccountable change of conduct, I was still more angry; and one day, that she threw herself at my feet, and with tears in her eyes remonstrated against some unjust accusation, I barbarously spurned her from my chair, and ordered her never more to enter my room. Alas! how quickly does the spirit of injustice grow; the next day I missed a favourite ring, and I accused her of stealing it!—Yes, I suspected poor Nanina, who had been invariably faithful, and whose principles I well knew had been proof against many far greater temptations.
I learned that Nanina had gone to confide her griefs to her mother; and as she did not return, I became so incensed at her for leaving me, as well as at her family for encouraging her to stay away, and I spoke of them with so much bitterness to the overseer, that he lost no opportunity of treating them with rigour. No attention, however, was paid to my positive orders for her return: she was not with her family; to all inquiries about her, they preserved a stubborn silence; and it was notorious that the unjust harshness of the overseer to them all was the effect of my resentment. Several weeks elapsed without any tidings of her, and irritated by what I considered her obstinacy, I determined to communicate the whole affair to Mr. P., in order that he might enforce obedience to my commands. I did so, and never shall I forget the horror and astonishment he expressed at my conduct. At first I was vexed and mortified by what he said, but when he calmly retraced to me all the circumstances of the case, contrasting my professed sensibility with my real inhumanity, and dwelling not only on the capricious extremes of my affection and hatred for Nanina, but on the accumulated cruelty of suspecting her without cause, of punishing her without proof, and of revenging my quarrel with her on the whole family, I sunk into his arms, I saw and acknowledged all my odious errors, and would have done anything tocompensate the poor girl for my base injustice, if she could have been found.
All this took place in the beginning of summer; and in the middle of the hottest part of that season Mr. P. was obliged to go to Spanish Town, which was fifteen miles distant, about business. The day passed heavily, the sultry air oppressed me, there seemed to be an unusual stillness everywhere; the slaves even appeared to work in sullen silence, and I scarcely heard a sound but the buzz of some insect, or the angry chirp of the humming-birds as they quarrelled about the flowers at my window. My thoughts turned mournfully upon my late conduct, and upon the severe but just expostulations of my husband. They did indeed oppress my heart; and in some measure to relieve myself, I went in the afternoon to the school, but I found it locked and no creature near it. There was a mountain path near the Pimenta grove, where we used sometimes to walk late in the evening to enjoy the land breeze; and taking a book which happened to lie on the sofa, I strolled through the grove and ascended slowly from the valley. The hills in that country are covered with woods which never lose their verdure; and after musing for some time on a magnificent group of the stately cabbage-palm, the tall cedar, and the wide spreading mahogany, I sat down under their shade. At length I opened my book, andthe very first thing I saw was my long lost ring! I quickly recollected that many weeks before I had put it in there to keep the place open, and I felt myself so shocked at my unworthy suspicions of Nanina, and so angry at myself, that I was quite overcome. But gradually the breeze revived me, and I burst into tears. At that moment,