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1843.
THE WORKS OF THE LORD ARE GREAT, SOUGHT OUT OF ALL THEM THAT HAVE PLEASURE THEREIN. HIS WORK IS HONOURABLE AND GLORIOUS: AND HIS RIGHTEOUSNESS ENDURETH FOR EVER. HE HATH MADE HIS WONDERFUL WORKS TO BE REMEMBERED: THE LORD IS GRACIOUS AND FULL OF COMPASSION.—PSALM CXI. 2—4,
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INDEX.
Accuracy of speech, 80
Acquaintance with God, 464
Activity of the mind in sleep, 240 Adventures of a naturalist, 208
Alum, 118
Amusements in China, 12
Animals, coverings of, 441
Arrow poison of the Indians of Guiana, the
celebrated, 6, 88
Baste, 308
Bazaars in Constantinople, 135 Bee-hunts in America, 248 Believer, growth of a, 320
Bell, the great, 462
Bible, studied and circulated, the, 386 Bird of paradise, the greater, 131 Birds, the music of, 391
, structure and habits of, 276 Black ape, 199
George, 141
Blessing of God, the, 136
Blind pauper, the, 196
Brazen serpent, the, 173 Brother, my, 306 Bubbles, 195
Buchanan, Dugald, 359
Buffalo, the, 332
Building castles in the air, 278 Bunyan, John, early life of, 1, 63, 85
Catumny, 192
Canada, night in, 232
Cape pigeons, 472
Cave of Cacahuamilpa, in Mexico, 350 China, amusements in, 12
Chinese aphorisms, 144
dog, a, 151
manufactures, 241 Christ, safety with, 63 ——, design of the death of, 68
the deliverer in the storm, 318
’s death, importance of, 397
Common Sayings— Diligence and perseverance, 183, 233 Children—education, 253, 292 Superstition; luck; chance; fate; for- tune ; destiny ; providence, 326, 458 Foolish speaking; the sabbath; death, 370 Silly apprehensions, 436 Confidence and truth, 365
i INDEX.
Confucius, 448
Contentment and gratitude, 392
Coral reefs, 42
Courage and Cowardice, 308
Creation and the Christian, 436
Crosses, 256
Crustacea, observations on the structure and
growth of the, 323, 433, 445
DAGUERREOTYPING, natural, 87
Danger, deliverance from, 346
Death, causes of rejoicing at the approach of, 461
Divine grace, riches of, 66
truth, study of, 269
forbearance abused, 14
Economy, wise, 456
Education, 266
—— of the poor, 47
——, silent power in, 40
Egypt, 68, 91, 170, 238
Elm, the, 126, 242, 287, 397, 405
Emigrants, the, 157
English history— Charles 1., 19, 57, 97, 137, 177, 217,
257
Commonwealth, the, 297 Protectorate, 337, 377 Restoration, the, 417
Engraved drawings, 121
Eternity, are you building for? 444
Etna, mount, 41
Evening atmosphere at sea, 176
Expectations, vain, 232
Fact, remarkable, 125
Fathers, the, 464
, on the use of the, 295 Fishes, remarkable, 8
Flee to the Saviour, 367 Forgiveness, 56
Four books, 336 Friendship, 152
Generosity, 136 Geysers, the, 281 God is holy, 392
‘Good advice, 352
Gospel, the, 232 ——, the glorious, 133 Great storm of 1703, 423, 454
Greece, ancient, agriculture in, 100, 198
, harvest in, 261
Greenland, hospitality in, 16
Griquas, the, 213
Guenons, natural disposition of certain mon-
keys, called, 374
Hatuiowep be thy name, 296 Hampton Court, 224 Happy mistake, a, 355 Harvest, 321 Herefordshire, visit to, 387 Hint for the young, a, 72 Hints on health, founded on physiological facts— Introduction, 25 Respiration and circulation, 44 Laws which regulate the healthy action of the respiratory system, 102 Laws which regulate the healthy action of the sanguiferous system, 141
Digestion, nutrition, etc., 188
INDEX. rey
Hints on health, founded on physiological | Ireland, the turf bogs of, 150
facts— Diet, 210 Laws which regulate the healthy action of the digestive organs, 270 _ The muscular system, 313 The brain and the nerves, 346 Menta] exercise, education, etc., 393 The organs of sense—the skin, 429 Concluding remarks, 467 Holly, the, 28 Hongkong, the people of, 61 Horns of the stag, 176 Hudson river, sunrise on the, 302 Humility and holiness, 152 Humphrey, Old, on unpromising scenes, 33
in the snow, 49
—— on the Jews, 105
—— on the Chinese, 122
—— peculiarities and predilections, 193 —— on the varying moods of the mind, 229 —— on laughter, 274 —— turned fisherman, 283
—— on mysterious advertisements, 356
on the common saying, “I quite forgot it,” 427
——’s evening visit, 442
Hungarians, origin of the, 253
Ipotatry, 312
Ignatius Loyola, 290 Impressions, early, 26 Indian swimming, 304 Indulgences, Romish, 17 Infidelity, the origin of, 192 Tniquity, the pardon of, 82 Insect changes, 161
Iron wire, 191
Jxsuir Jacobi and the Abyssinians, the, 264 Jew, interview with a, 60
Jewish services, 341
Jews, anecdotes of, 282
Just man, conduct of a, 216
Kip, St., 52, 110, 145, 333, 414, 448
Knowledge is necessary, 400
Lanoscare sketching, 325
Law and grace, 472
Life, a long, 453
Lightning, remarkable preservation from death by, 404
Locusts, 369
London cries, 130
Losing the way, 93
Lowell, 221
Luther’s journey to Wittemberg, 115
Man, the total depravity of, 156 Mental culture, the first objects of, 77 Mexico, the valley of, 187
, Superstition in, 364
, cave of Cacahuamilpa, in, 350 Midnight sun, the, 232
Mining, 457
Montanvert, 176
Moon in Africa, the, 192
Mortality, 192
Mosaic, manufacture of, at Rome,
Music of birds, the, 391
as a part of religious worship, 465
My brother, 306
vi ‘ INDEX,
Naaman the Syrian, 353 Rate of a vessel determined, 169 Natural decomposition, 73 Rattlesnake, the, 201 daguerreotyping, 87 Reason and instinct, 362, 410
—— disposition of certain monkeys called | Red Sea, the, 80
Guenons, 374 ——-, passage of the, 316 Naturalist, adventures of a, 208 Redeemer, satisfaction and joy of the, Night in Canada, 232 408 Noble necessity, a, 176 Religion, 376 Northern Regions, 466 Rhea, or South American ostrich, on two
species of, 75
Oak, the, 70 Riches of Divine grace, 66 Old Humphrey, 33, 49, 105, 122, 193, 229, | Rome, the city of, 400 274, 283, 356, 427, 442 Romish indulgences, 17 Order maintained, 152 . Orphan boy, the, 384 Satvation, the great, 228 Samoans, visit to the, 166 Parantse, the greater bird of, 131 Saviour and the destroyer, the, 255 Parental affection, 51 ——, flee to the, 367 Penny hardly spent, a, 304 Sceptic and the Christian compared, the, Perambulator, the— 80 Burnham beeches, 153 Scripture illustrations, 311, 360, 376, 465 Dover, 162 Secret curse, the, 36 Dudley castle, 205 Serpent charming, 22 Margate and Ramsgate, 249 Shop signs in Russia, 153 A visit to the seven sisters, 401 Shrewd viceroy, a, 246 Piety, attractive, 286 Siamese, traits of the, 40 Pigeons, Cape, 472 Sickness, 392 Plants, colours of, 216 Sky, the, 267 Poor, education of the, 47 Sleep, activity of the mind in, 240 Poultry market in Russia, 105 Spanish colonists, 376 Praying gauger, the, 79 Speech, accuracy of, 80
Protestant reformation, principle of the, and Spring, a sketch of, 81 its relation to the progress of society, | St. Kilda, 52, 110, 145, 333, 414, 448 382 Stag, horns of the, 176 exiles of Zillerdale, the, 425 Starfish, sea-urchin, etc., observations on the, 168, 223, 247, 323 Quorations, 126 Storm, the great, of 1703, 423, 454
INDEX. vil
Study of Divine truth, 269 Sunrise on the Hudson river, 302 Superstition in Mexico, 364
Swallow, the, 216
TaxE God’s work together, 336
Temptation, 192
Think, 56
Thorns, 71
Thoughts, hasty, 71
Thun, Unterseen, and Interlaken, in Swit- zerland, 182 .
“*To let,’’ 364
Tree, remarkable, 224
Tulips, 132
Turf bogs of Ireland, 150
Usrrutness, 376 Uskeeme, the, 72
Vain expectations, 232 Valley of Mexico, the, 187 Vegetables, importance of, 191 Viceroy, a shrewd, 246 Village conversation, a, 66
—— fountain, the, 135
WarTERFALLS, 361
Whirlpools and whirlwinds, 401
| ‘© Who'll serve the king ?”’ 344 | Wisdom, Divine, 456 | Wit, 433
Wittemberg, Luther’s journey to, 115
Woman, 56 _—
| Youne, a hint for the, 72
| Yucatan, cities of, 422
ZILLERDALE, Protestant exiles of, 425
LIST OF ENGRAVINGS.
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Steeple House at Elstow, where John Bunyan was born,
THE EARLY LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN. | ing knowledge of them which he will
PART I. acquire will be combined with an ever-
‘‘TuHe works ‘of the Lord are great, | growing conviction that there are still
sought out of all them that have pleasure | greater wonders altogether hidden from
therein.” It is obvious that the more ac- | his view. The vague hope that he may
curately any one investigates the pheno- } possibly know more hereafter, is the
mena of the material universe, the increas- | only relief which philosophy, apart from JANUARY, 1843, B
2 THE EARLY LIFE
revelation, can'supply. The Christian may, however, direct his attention, not merely to these, but to the more wonderful phe- nomena of the moral world, as manifested it may be, even in his own history, but still more in that of the servants of God generally, not only with an increasing ac- quaintance with Him who is ‘ wonder- ful in counsel, and excellent in working;” but with an overwhelming assurance that he shall certainly know more hereafter ; that the developements of eternity will bring out results past all present imagin- ing, and at the same time so reflect upon them the glory of the Divine attributes, that, alike to the “‘ redeemed from the earth,” and to “ principalities and powers in heavenly places, shall be made known, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God.” It is therefore his duty, as well as his blessed privilege, to get nearer to his celestial home, by frequently meditat- ing on these things. And though our distance from the throne of Him who “is light” is vast indeed, some glimpse of the great subject, useful to ourselves and to others, we may undoubtedly obtain; some relations in the complex scheme of the Divine administration, it is even here permitted to us to trace out. ‘Thus, that a variety of moral train- ing is adopted in this childhood of our existence, connected with various condi- tions of future felicity and of future ser- vice too—for “they serve Him day and night’’—in the heavenly temple, we may well imagine; but that there is a course of discipline connected with extensive usefulness even here, we may sometimes distinctly perceive. Just as in the natu- ral world, we often see what is termed a prospective contrivance, apparently of little or no present use, but exquisitely adapted to effect some ultimate result; so when it pleases God to bring about any remarkable purpose, through the medium of human instrumentality, his providen- tial dealings towards the individual, dark and mysterious at the time, are even on this side of eternity occasionally seen to issue in events of surpassing brightness. A few outlines only of the subject can we understand, because we know not how the destinies of eternity, and the happi- ness of many, may, in the relation of cause and effect, be dependent upon the instrumentality of one; yet that little may well lead us not only to admire and adore, but to have our “loins girded about, and our lights burning,” and dili- gently to improve every talent, however
OF JOHN BUNYAN.
small, wherewith we may have been in- trusted, since we can never know what other talent, or what recompence of re- ward it may, if diligently improved, be the means of acquiring.
To make a few remarks upon one in- stance in point only, is our subject at present. As an author, the individual to whom we allude is sufficiently well known. Perhaps the records of his early moral history have not met with the at- tention they deserve. Certainly he was not made what he was, in consequence of birth, or in the least by education, in the ordinary sense of the term.
At the commencement of the reign of Charles 11., amongst the earlier sufferers by the exclusive measures then adopted, an itinerant preacher in the county of Bedford was imprisoned in Bedford jail, where, as is well known, he continued for nearly twelve years. His descent, as he himself tells us, had been “of that rank that is meanest, and most despised of all the families of the land.” He had, in fact, been a tinker of low and dissolute habits; early instruction, with the excep- tion of the elements of reading and writ- ing, soon again forgotten, he had received none; with companions calculated to ele- vate his mind, excepting a Baptist teacher, and a few pious, but very poor people, he had never met. Yet, within the walls of a confined cell in that gloomy prison, unassisted by scarcely any book except his Bible and the Book of Martyrs, apparently unconscious of what he was about, manifestly without any fixed de- sign, did he accomplish at least one work, which may be justly styled im- mortal, not merely because, in the ordi- nary sense of that sometimes misused term, it has handed down his name to posterity, but in a far higher one still, because the result of it will only be made manifest when time shall be no more—a work, which Mr. Montgomery has not eu- logized too highly, in saying, not merely that it has already exercised, during the two centuries which have nearly rolled away since its production, but that ‘‘it will continue to exercise more influence over minds of every class, than the most refined and sublime genius, with all the advantages of education and good fortune has been able to rival in this respect”—a work, which, taken altogether, may be justly styled unique. Written in a style which has equal charms for the most po- lished and the most illiterate, for child- hood, and for mature age, it seems even
THE EARLY LIFE
to possess, what may be said of scarcely any other uninspired composition, the same peculiar freshness however fre- quently it be read. Of other works we seem to grow weary, but of this never. Many have attempted to imitate it; none
have ever succeeded. In a period uot the
most favourable, it might be imagined, to the success of such a work, it ran speedily through many editions, including 100,000 copies ; was translated into several lan- guages; and found its way into the li- brary of the very monarch under the enactments of whose reign the despised author had so long suffered. By every succeeding age it has been equally, if not increasingly prized. And in all proba- bility the latest generation will have to say of the author, with as much truth as the present, that by it ‘‘ he yet speaketh.”’ But, as just hinted, it is a work which may be looked upon in a more important aspect still. The extent of influence which it shall be found to have exercised in the actual conduct of pilgrims from the ‘City of Destruction,” to ‘Mount Zion,” we cannot estimate; for that will not be understood till the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed.
_ What, then, was the previous mental and moral history of the author of this remarkable production? for it would seem that John Bunyan was nearly, if not quite forty years of age when he wrote the ‘‘ Pilgrim’s Progress.”’ This becomes a question of the greatest interest. And we have, to guide our research, an inte- resting but somewhat extraordinary piece of autobiography, requiring, it may be, to be read with some caution, but cer- tainly written with the most minute and unimpeachable fidelity, and with no other end in view but the glory of that “ grace” which “‘abounded”’ to the subject of it. Not that we need enter at any length into its details. A few leading, but remarkable particulars, will, we apprehend, furnish a sufficient clue to the whole subject. It is requisite, however, to keep in view what
-were evidently the natural endowments
of the author’s mind. That he possessed much shrewd and vigorous good sense, is at once apparent; nor less so, that there was combined with it a remarkable frank- ness and honesty of disposition, leading him almost instinctively to shrink from hypocrisy, even at the time that he did not shrink from open and avowed ungod- liness. But his chief mental peculiarity was an ardent and vivid imagination, amounting, it would almost seem, at
OF JOHN BUNYAN. 5
times, to an incapability of distinguishing ideal impressions from actual ones: with such reality did they present themselves, that they seemed to affect him, as Dr. Southey says, “more forcibly than im- pressions from the external world.” From
want of attention to this characteristic, he
has sometimes been understood as de-
scribing what he really thought to be su-
pernatural sights and sounds, when such
was not at all his intention. But to pro-
ceed. In the present paper, we shall con-
fine ourselves to a single particular.
It is, then, we conceive, one very re markable feature in the early moral his tory of John Bunyan, and which exer cised an important influence upon his- whole future life, that he was the subject of deep convictions, for a very long pe- riod prior to any experimental acquaint- ance with that converting grace which ultimately turned hin: from the power of sin unto God.
In early life, he ran to no ordinary length in a career of wild iniquity. What- ever may have been said in extenuation by some of his biographers, this is suffi- ciently apparent from his own narrative. ‘From a child I had but few equals for cursing, swearing, lying, and blasphem- ing the holy name of God. So settled and rooted was I in these things, that they became a kind of second nature to me, I did let loose the reins of my lust, and delighted in all transgressions against the law of God; so that until I came to the state of marriage, I was the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me company, in all manner of vice and un- godliness.’’ He was, however, from his earliest years, familiar with much of the language, atleast, of Scripture ; acquaint- ed, it would seem, with some who knew and feared God; and surrounded by many who made, outwardly, a very particular profession of religion.* His conscience was, therefore, so far enlightened as to be ill at ease. His cup of sinful pleasure was: dashed with many a bitter draught; and both in his waking reveries, and in his ‘‘dreams” by night, was he haunted by the forebodings of a coming judgment, which his lively imagination readily pic- tured as full of horror and ‘‘fiery indigna~
* It is somewhat remarkable, that when he en- tered the army, all mad and reckless in sin as he: was, it was to the parliamentary forces that he at~ tached himself, where, not only was the discipline: strict, but he would at least hear much reading: of the Scriptures, religious conversation, and: prayer. See ‘‘ Hume’s History of England,” vol. vii.. He can scarcely be supposed to haye been influ-
enced by principle on either side. B 2
4. THE EARLY LIFE OF JOHN BUNYAN.
tion.” ‘Even in my childhood,” says he, ‘the Lord did scare and affrighten me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me with fearful visions. For often, after I had spent this and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been greatly afflicted while asleep with the apprehension of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I then thought, laboured to draw me away with them, of which I could never be rid.” These fears would torment him even in the very midst of his sports and vain companions. In vain did he en- deavour to shake off the apprehension that he was condemned to die, and after that to come to judgment; whilst, like his own ‘Christian,’ he felt that ‘“‘he was unwilling to do the first, and unable to do the second.” On one occasion in parti- cular, in very early life, he had a remark- able dream, ‘that the end of the world and the day of judgment had arrived ;” a fearfully appalling, but probably cor- rect description of which he has evidently put into the mouth of the “man in the chamber’ in the Interpreter’s house. And he relates another remarkable circum- stance which took place after the lapse of many years, when he was in some mea- sure outwardly reformed, but clearly in- dicating what was still the state of his mind and conscience. At this time, he was a regular attendant at church, al- though much addicted to those ‘ games and sports,” in the after-part of the Lord’s day, which were the disgrace of that pe- riod. ‘‘ But one day,” as he himself relates the matter, ‘ amongst all the ser- mons our parson made, his subject was to treat of the sabbath-day, and of the evil of breaking that, either with labour, sports, or otherwise; wherefore I fell in my conscience under this sermon, think- ing and believing that he made it on purpose to show me my evil doing.” He re- turned home with ‘a great burden” upon his spirits. So readily, however, was he able temporarily to pacify his restless mo- nitor at this time, that no sooner was dinner over, than he contrived to “shake the sermon out of his mind,” and away he went, as usual, to his old custom of sports and gaming, with great delight. “‘ But the same day,” he proceeds, “as I was in the midst of a game of cat, and having struck it one blow from the hole, just as I was about to strike it the second time, a voice did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, which said, ‘ Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to heaven? or have thy sins and go to hell?’ At this I
was put to an exceeding maze; where- fore, leaving my bat upon the’ ground, I looked up to heaven, and was as if I had with the eyes of my understanding seen the Lord Jesus looking down upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, and as if he did severely threaten me with some grievous punishment for these and other ungodly practices.”
The natural effect of alarms of con- science, such as these, is to drive their hapless victim, experimentally unac- quainted with the ‘blood of sprinkling,” to one after another of those expedients of man’s devising whereby a little tem- porary relief may be obtained ; or if these be found all insufficient, then sometimes at once to despair and utter recklessness. This was precisely the case with Bunyan. To the ordinary resort of an awakened mind, outward reformation, justification by the works of the law, he deliberately betook himself, once and again. Shortly after his first marriage, in particular, he not only at once broke off many of his evil habits, but fell in, “very eagerly,” as he expresses it, ‘ with the religion of the times.” Such, indeed, was his tem- perament, that half-measures. of any kind never satisfied him. His description of this change is somewhat curious, espe- cially as one among many instances of this tendency to extremes. After stating that he now went to church twice a day with the foremost, ‘said and sung,” as others did, very devoutly, he adds, “I was, withal, so overrun with the spirit of superstition, that I adored, and that with great devotion, even all things (both the high-place, priest, clerk, vestment, ser- vice, and what else) belonging to the church; counting all things holy that were therein contained, and especially the priest and clerk, most happy, and without doubt greatly blessed, because they were the servants, as I then thought, of God, and were principal in the holy temple, to do his work therein. ‘This conceit grew so strong upon me, that had I but seen a priest, (though never so sor- did and debauched in his life,) I should find my spirit fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him; yea, I thought, for the love I did bear unto them, (sup- posing them the ministers of God,) I could have Jaid down at their feet, and have been trampled upon by them; their name, their garb, and work did so intoxi- cate and bewitch me.” It was at this time that the circumstance took place on the Lord’s day, to which we have already
THE EARLY LIFE
referred, and then his mind all at once oscillated back again to the opposite ex- treme. Convicted of utter moral impo- tence in endeavouring to maintain even the appearance of a consistent religious course, he abandoned it at once; and, knowing no higher aid, rashly concluded that to arrive at any other comfort than that which sin could furnish, was out of the range of possibility. He therefore came to the awful resolution (his case, alas ! is not singular,) of yielding himself up to “ work all iniquity with greediness.”’ Well may we pause to adore the riches of the goodness and longsuffering of God, and exclaim with the prophet, ** Who is a God like unto thee, who par- donest iniquity, transgression, and sin?” whilst reading in his own language the record of his feelings at this time, ‘‘ Hea- ven was gone already, so that on that I must not think; wherefore I found within me great desire to take my fill of sin, still studying what sin was yet to be com- mitted, that I might taste the sweetness of it; and I made as much haste as I could to fill my belly with its delicacies, lest I should die before I had my desires; for that I feared greatly. In these things I protest before God that I lie not, nei- ther do I frame this sort of speech ; these were really, strongly, and with all my heart, my desires. The good Lord, whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive my trans- gressions.” Happily, however, this ter- rific state of mind did not continue very long, and by one of those remarkable in- cidents in his life, because one of the most unlikely to bring about such a result, was poor Bunyan driven back again to the task of cleansing himself, of weaving a covering for his pollution, out of the “filthy rags” of his own righteousness, or else of resorting to some minor expe- dient to ease his unquiet mind, when foiled in the attempt. We recur to his narrative. ‘‘ Now, therefore, I went on in sin with great greediness of mind, still grudging that I could not be satisfied with it as I would: This did continue with me about a month, or more; but, one day, as I was standing at a neigh- bour’s shop window, and there cursing and swearing, and playing the madman, after my wonted manner, there sat with- in, the woman of the house, who heard me; who, though she was a very loose and ungodly wretch, yet protested that I swore and cursed at that most fearful rate, that she was made to tremble to hear me; and told me, further, that I was
OF JOHN BUNYAN. 5 the ungodliest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her life; and that I by thus doing was able to spoil all the youth in the whole town, if they came but in my company.” By this reproof he was so stung and silenced that, no less to his own astonishment than that of all who knew him, it proved the commence- ment of a second reformation, more en- tire, and certainly more durable than the first. Both of its character and extent, we may form some judgment by the fol- lowing brief notices. It was a ‘great and famous alteration” in his life and man- ners, ‘as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober man.” He now became ‘¢a brisk talker in religion,”’ took “‘ great delight in reading some parts of the word of God;”’ he “loved to be talked of as one that was truly godly ;” he even aban- doned several vain, although not directly sinful amusements. His mind was much fixed in meditation upon the things of eternity. He “did set the command- ments before him as his way to heaven :” if now and then he broke one, he was sorry for it; promised to do better next time, and “there got help again ;’’ at least “‘he thought he pleased God as well as any man in England ;” during all which time, however, ‘‘for about a twelvemonth, or more,” he “ was ignorant of the corrup- tions of his nature ;” he “ knew not Jesus Christ, nor grace, nor faith, nor hope.” But we need not proceed. How well,
how experimentally prepared must one who had gone through such a course as this, have been, not only to describe, as he has done, so graphically, that turn- ing out of the way to the mountain, which burns with fire, to the blackness and darkness, and tempest of Sinai, so natural to every child of Adam; but likewise to detect and lay open all those refuges of lies, those various deceitful coverings wherehy so many, roused to some sense of their danger, and the supreme import- ance of religion, but putting away from them the remedy which God has provided, seek successfully, and sometimes fatally, to deceive themselves, and impose upon others. The characters, amongst many, of Pliable, Formalist, Hypocrisy, Talkative, By-ends, etc., will readily occur to the reader’s recollection. And last, not least, that of Ignorance, who is represented as supporting his character as a pilgrim to the very end of his journey, but of whose fearful doom we read at last, when the whole allegory concludes in words few and simple; but considering their
6 THE CELEBRATED ARROW POISON OF THE INDIANS OF GUIANA.
connexion as occurring just after the glow- ing and seraphic description of the en trance of the pilgrims into the celestial city, perhaps one of the most awfully thrilling passages to be found in any uninspired book; the most fearfully calculated to cause the sinners in Zion to be afraid, to make fearfulness to surprise the hypo- crites. ‘Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the city of De- struction. So I awoke, and behold it was a dream.” Reader! in what “lot” will you “stand” at the end of your days?
W. Ni
—— ==
THE CELEBRATED ARROW POISON OF THE INDIANS OF GUIANA.
No. I,
Tuat the Indians of Guiana smear the tips of their arrows, and the points of the little darts which they propel with the breath through their long blow-pipes, or sarbacanes, has been long known. The first writer who alludes to this poison is the celebrated sir Walter Raleigh; he terms it the owrari, and states that it is among the poisons used by the Indians of the Orinoco. By the same name, ourar?, or urari, it is known in Guiana. Gumilla asserts that this poison is the produce of an underground plant, with a tuberose root, and never putting forth leaves; this root, he says, is called ‘‘ razz de st misma,” and the exhalations rising from the ves- sels in which the preparation of the poi- son is conducted are so noxious as to kill the old women who are constrained to watch over the process. He also adds, that the juices of this root are not consi- dered sufficiently concentrated, till a few drops, held at a distance, cause the blood to retreat from any given part. Thus an Indian makes a slight wound in his skin, and holds a dart dipped in the poison, near it: if it make the blood cease flow- ing and retreat up the vessels, he is satisfied that the poison is of the proper strength. The credulity of this writer is even exceeded by that of Hartzinck, (Beschryving van Guiana, 1770,) who says, that in order to try the strength of the poison, an arrow smeared with it is shot into a young tree; and that if the tree shed its leaves in a few days, the poison is sufficiently concentrated. And farther, that in an insurrection ,of the negroes in Berbice, a woman who carried a child was shot with a poisoned arrow,
and the child, though not wounded, began |
We need | by him,”
to swell, and shortly died.
scarcely make any comment on ‘these exaggerated statements. The poison is indeed violent; but its effects only follow its introduction into a wound. Till baron Humboldt instituted a series of investiga- tions, during his residence in South Ame- rica, we were still ignorant of the real effects of this poison, as well as of its nature and mode of preparation. It is a vegetable extract, and Humboldt, though he failed in his endeavours to ascertain the plant which yields it, and which with great sagacity he considered as one of the genus Strychnos, correctly described its mode of preparation.
There is something distasteful to some minds in scientific simplicity, and hence perhaps is it that later writers have again endeavoured to envelope the nature of this poison in doubt and mystery. Mont- gomery Martin, in his History of the Bri- tish Colonies, believes that the vegetable extract is a mere vehicle for the real poi- son, which is prepared from an infusion of large ants, called muneery, and from the venom fangs of deadly serpents.
Waterton calls this poison wouwraly, and gives us an amusing account of its mystical ingredients, reminding us of those of the ‘ witches’ caldron.”’
“‘A day or two,” says this traveller, “before the Macoushi Indian prepares his poison, he goes into the forest in quest of ingredients. A vine grows in these wilds, which is called wouraly. It is from this that the poison takes its name, and it is the principal ingredient. When he has procured enough of this, he digs upa root of a very bitter taste, ties them toge- ther, and then looks about for two kinds of bulbous plants, which contain a green gelatinous juice. He fills a little quake (basket) which he carries on his back with. the stalks of this, and, lastly, ranges up and down till he finds two species of ants: one of them is very large and black, and so venomous, that its sting produces a fever; it is most commonly to be met with on the ground. The other is a little red ant, which stings like a nettle, and has its nest under the leaf of a shrub. After obtaining these, he has no more need to range the forest. A quantity of the strongest Indian pepper is used, but this he has already planted near his hut. The pounded fangs of the Labarri snake, and those of the Conna Couchi, are like- wise added. ‘These he commonly has in store; for when he kills a snake, he gene- rally extracts the fangs, and keeps them
THE CELEBRATED ARROW POISON
This account has been very generally
received and credited. Dissatisfied, how- ever, with it, and with the various con- tradictions of travellers on the subject, Mr. Schomburgk determined to acquire, if possible, a full knowledge, not only of the mode of preparing the poison, but of its origin,—and this, as he informs us, he was fortunate enough to accomplish, during his first expedition in the interior of British Guiana. “1 collected,’ he says, “at Pirara, the largest Macusi vil- lage I ever visited, every information on the subject, and the result was, that the plant grew on the Conocon or Canuku mountains. On our return from the ca- taract of the Rupununi, I ascertained, at a settlement of Wapisiana Indians, on the eastern bank of the Rupununi, in three degrees north latitude, that a jour- ney of one day and a half would bring me there.”
After engaging native guides, the tra- veller started, accompanied by lieutenant Haining, on the morning of the 25th of December, in search of the “ mysterious plant.” The direction taken was to the south, over pathless savannahs, until the Rupununi presented a fordable place. Here the mountains stretched their foot to the river’s bank: instead of ascend- ing them, the guide led them through a wild pass, to the margin of an extensive arid plain. Here they turned northward, traversing plains covered with wood, shrubs, and coarse grass, and bounded on each side by the mountains, also fre- quently crossed by streams. Of these, some were dried up; of others, the water gushed along with turbulence over a rocky bed. ‘ Their banks were covered with creepers and twiners of the exten- sive families of Convolvulacee, Bigno- niaceeé, and EHupatorie : a beautiful reed raised its panicle high above the creeping plants; it was the Gynerium saccha- roides, which the Indians use for their arrows.”
After a walk of upwards of five miles, the travellers began a toilsome ascent up the mountains, in some places so steep, and so interrupted by huge blocks of
granite, and fallen trees, as to render it«
necessary to use the hands as well as the feet; and after eight hours’ laborious exer- tion, they reached a few huts on Mount Mamesua, inhabited by Wapisianas, which was their halting place for the night. Here they were strongly urged by their Indian host, Oronappi, not to proceed farther, as. the road was dreadful: his
OF THE INDIANS OF GUIANA. 7
statement proved true indeed, but his motive most. probably was to keep the plant from being discovered, as he offered to go himself, bring back what was requi- site, and prepare the poison. Off, how- ever, the travellers started. ‘“ Our path became every moment wilder. We had to cross several mountain streams, which flowed in deep beds, precipitating at their banks ferruginous matter. Our In- dians thought they had mistaken the track, but as we arrived at a stream which ran rapidly over the sloping ground, ex- hibiting gigantic shelves, we observed that several paths united; and crossing the brook, our guides stopped, and point- ing to a ligneous twiner, which wound itself snake-like from tree to tree, they called out urari, the name.of the plant, in the tongue of our guides.’ In a note, Mr. Schomburgk observes, with respect to the name urari, that the Caribs, in pronouncing the r, frequently exchange the letter with 1, and it may thus have happened that the name wurali has arisen. The Macusis, who are acknowledged to be the best manufacturers of this remark- able substance, call it decidedly urari The same name it bears among the Ta- rumas, Wapisianas, Aricunas, and various other tribes. of the interior. The term wouraly is corrupted.
Mr. Schomburgk did not find the plant in flower, but bearing fruit, and he at once perceived that it was a new species of Strychnos, to which he gave the ap- propriate specific title of tovifera. <A description of this plant may be summed up as follows: A ligneous twiner, hitherto only found on the granitic mountains of Canuku or Conocon, bordering the exten- sive savannahs of the rivers Rupununi, Mahu, and Takutu. At its root, it is of the thickness of a man’s arm, and covered with a rough ash-coloured bark, marked with fissures. It winds round the trees, and often reaches a height of thirty or forty feet, before dividing into branches. The branches are rounded and opposite at their origins. The branchlets of these are densely covered with ferruginous hair. On these and between the leaves are ten- drils, mostly single, sometimes divided. The leaves are opposite, ovate-oblong, acuminate, entire, from an inch and a half to four inches long, on a very short stalk, and covered with ferruginous hair,
The fruit is a berry, of the size of a large apple, often twelve inches in cir- cumference, of a globular figure, covered with a smooth hard rind, of a bluish green
8 REMARKABLE FISUES
colour. It is filled with a jelly-like pulp, in which are ten or fifteen seeds. These seeds are round, with a concave and an opposite convex surface, and about an inch in diameter. They are rough, and of a.grey colour; the internal kernel is yellowish white, and tough like horn ; it is intensely bitter, and used by the Indians as a tonic, and in dysentery, pos- sessing valuable medicinal properties. Various ceremonies are performed by the Indians, both preparatory to, and during the preparation of the poison from this plant. It need not be said, these ceremonies are useless, being the result of superstition, not unconnected perhaps with a desire in the poison-maker, to throw an air of mystery around his ope- rations. Stripped of all these mystic accompaniments, the preparation of the poison is as follows: The stem of the plant, cut into convenient pieces of about three feet in length, is stripped of its bark, (the bark of the woody parts, with its alburnum, possessing the active prin- ciple in its highest degree,) and this is first pounded, and then steeped in a new earthen vessel of water. It is allowed to macerate, the vessel being well covered, for a considerable time, till the water is tinged with a yellow colour. It is then filtered. Several other plants have in the meantime been procured, and their juice extracted in a similar manner, ready to be added, by degrees, to the urari juice, as it begins to become concentrated by the action of a slow fire, and assume the con- sistency of syrup. The juice of these plants imparts to the urari a darker colour than it would otherwise exhibit. The process is now continued over the fire till the whole has the appearance of tar. It is then put into small calabashes, well covered with leaves, to prevent the air from affecting the poison ; and if properly secured, this will keep its strength, as the Indians assert, for two years. When required for immediate use, a little quan- tity is put into a separate calabash, and as much juice of the cassada added as will make it pliable. The Indians assert, that this juice (from the poisonous root of the Jatropha manihot) re-awakens the slumbering powers of the urari. In the preparation of this poison, there is no danger: the vapours exhaled during the process of concentrating the extracts are not injurious; but as it requires several days before the requisite degree of con- centration is attained, and as the vessel has to be watched during the whole time,
the scum occasionally taken off, and the fire kept at a proper heat, the preparation is troublesome to the native, who, indo- lent by habit, seldom makes it more than once or twice a year. Moreover, the process is carried on in a tent, or cabin, erected for the purpose; the poison- maker eats no meat during the time it is carried on, and fasts previously ; forbids any who have eaten sugar to approach the place; indeed, prohibits every one, and especially women, from coming near the urari-house, and will not himself mix in the society of others, lest the power of the urari be destroyed. While we smile at the charlatanism of the Indian poison- maker, let us reflect whether we ourselves are not often imposed upon by similar mummery.—N.
a ae
REMARKABLE FISHES.
Few among the finny tribes of ocean engage the attention of the voyager who passes over the intertropical latitudes more than the dolphin, (Coryphena,) the bonito, and the flying fish. Dolphins, bonitos, and flying fish are perpetually alluded to in the works of those who have given us accounts of their maritime adventures, and the descriptions of the habits of these fish and of the incessant warfare which the two former maintain against the latter tenants of the same sea, and doomed to persecution, are replete with interest.
“On arriving in tropical regions,” says a talented writer, ‘‘ the curious flying fish is seen, and affords some variety to the tedium of a ship ; the passengers amusing themselves by watching its flight, and sometimes its persecution, when pursued by bonitos, dolphins, albicores, among the finny, and tropic birds, boobies, gan- nets, etc., among the feathered tribes. I have frequently derived both information and amusement by watching the flight of these fish; to observe them skim the surface of the water for a great distance, sometimes before, and at other times against the direction of the wind, ele- vating themselves either to a short height
efrom the surface, or to five or six feet,
and then diverging a little from their course, drop suddenly into their proper element; sometimes, when their flight was not high above the water, and it blew fresh, they would meet with an elevated wave, which invariably buried them be- neath it, but they would often again start from it and renew their flight.”
REMARKABLE FISHES, 9
The term flight, after all, is perhaps not very applicable to the aérial excursions of these curious fishes; for it does not ap- pear that their expanded fins act any other part than that of parachutes, though they are asserted by some to be used in the same manner as wings, which cannot well be the case. ‘The flight or leap of these fishes seldom extends beyond two hundred yards at a stretch, but the height to which they rise is very variable. Mr. Bennett says, that he has known them come on board ship, at a height of four- teen feet and upwards; but they some- times fail on board man-of-war vessels, at a height of from twenty to twenty-five feet above the water. Their greatest ele- vation is attained by the spring which propels them above their native element, and from this they decline more or less gradually; they are, however, capable of turning in their course, and on drop- ping into the water, of rising again almost instantly, so as to keep up, for a great
distance, a quick succession of flying leaps, their only chance of evading the ruthless pursuit of their enemies.
The chase of a shoal of flying fish by bonitos, or dolphins, (Coryphena,) is an interesting spectacle. The flying fish rise with a rustling noise, and sweep along, while the bonito in full pursuit springs several yards out of the water, like a tiger darting at his prey. But the air is as pregnant with danger to the flying fish, as the water: boobies, gannets, and tro- pic birds are hovering on the watch, and pounce with the velocity of an arrow on their hapless victims. .
The flying fishes do not belong all to one genus: one group of flying fishes is allied to the gurnard, and constitutes the genus Dactylopterus ; another, the genus Exocetus. It is, however, not so much to the flying fish, as to their pursuers, the dolphin and bonito, that we invite the attention of our readers.
The dolphin is a name given by sailors
PAI CA
The Coryphena hippurus ; or, Dolphin of the sailors.
to a fish of the genus Coryphena, and must not be confounded with the true dolphin, one of the whale tribe, (Cetacea,) and closely allied to our porpoise. ‘This latter animal (Delphinus delphis, Linn.) appears to be the one which the ancients celebrated under that name: it is well described by Aristotle, and is common in the Mediterranean, gambolling in shoals at the mouths of rivers, and displaying a variety of rapid movements, well described
by Ovid. ‘The flying fish have to escape
the pursuit of this foe, as well as of the Coryphena and bonito.
The Coryphena hippurus, or dolphin of the sailors, is of all the oceanic fishes one of the most brilliant and richly co- loured: its tints above are silvery blue, with spots or marks of deep blue; the under surface is citron yellow, with marks of delicate pale blue; but the colours of this fish appear ever changing as they glow with the metallic hues of burnished gold and silver, or sparkle like gems in
10
the rays of the sun. Nothing can exceed in brilliancy the spectacle produced by a_ shoal of these fishes playing round a ves- sel, near the smooth surface of the sunlit sea. The rapidity of their movements, their sudden turns and evolutions; now their sides, now their backs glancing in the light, while a thousand changing tints reflected from their glittering scales, al- most dazzle the sight of the beholder, combine to form one of the most pleasing exhibitions, which they who traverse the ocean meet with in their progress. It is only while living and in full vigour that the Coryphena, or dolphin, glows with hues of such exquisite brilliancy : when the fish is taken out of the water, the colours fade as it dies, and at last vanish; a dull greyish brown remaining in their stead. The species of the genus Cory- phena are tolerably numerous ; all, how- | ever, are distinguished by the richness of
REMARKABLE FISHES,
their colours, by their great activity and boldness, and by their voracity, not only in the pursuit of flying fishes, and others less able to escape, but in seizing what- ever is thrown overboard by passengers ; baits are therefore greedily swallowed, so that it is not difficult to capture them. The Coryphena hippurus (the Coryphéne dofin of Daubenton) is from a yard to a yard and a half in length, its form is compressed laterally ; the dorsal fin com- mences on the top of the head and runs along the back, supported by flexible rays; the head is elevated above, and its profile arched; the palate, as well as are the jaws, is furnished with teeth. Though most abundant in the warmer latitudes of the ocean, this beautiful fish occasionally visits more temperate seas, and is not unfrequently to be seen in the Mediterranean. It is the ‘Imzovpoc of Aristotle, and the Hippurus of Pliny.
The Bonito. .
The bonito (Z'hynnus pelamys, Cep.) | is closely allied to the tunny, (Zhynnus vulgaris,) and also, but less immediately, to the common mackerel, (Scomber scom- brus, Linn.) The bonito, however, never attains to so great a size as the tunny, (which is commonly four feet in length, and often much more,) being usually about thirty inches. Though chiefly con- fined to the warmer latitudes of the ocean, where it wanders in shoals, giving chase to the flying fish, it sometimes visits more northern latitudes, and occasionally the British coast. Its relative, the tunny, is a British fish, but is especially abundant
at certain seasons in the Mediterranean, and is a great source of revenue along the southern shores of France, and in Sar- dinia, and Sicily. Vast multitudes are an- nually taken by nets and various other modes of fishing ; and, as the fish is highly esteemed for the table, its flesh being firm, red, and of fine flavour, the demand ever equals the proceeds of the fishery. Prepared with salt and oil, the flesh of this fish, under the name of Thon mariné, is an article of commerce, and may be obtained in the proper season at the Ita- lian warehouses in London; it is eaten
cold, like pickled salmon. The flesh of
SS ee -
- erossing them in their course.
REMARKABLE FISHES. | 1]
the bonito, though firm and red, like that of the tunny, is very inferior, and by most thought even disagreeable. ‘The bonito is very beautiful, its colours being rich and metallic; the back is dark steel blue, the sides are dusky, passing into white below; behind the pectoral fins, is a bright triangular space, from which begin four dark lines, that extend along each side of the belly to the tail. the mackerel, the scales are few.
It is mentioned by Commerson, and has since been noticed by others, that the bonito is much infested with internal worms, (Hntozoa) of various kinds, which even pierce through the coats of the sto- mach and intestines, and live upon the juices of their living victim. It may be added, however, that all fish are pecu- liarly obnoxious to intestinal worms, and they abound in the liver. In the liver of the common ced, for instance, numbers may be usually observed. The presence of these parasitic animals, however, dis- turbs the health and vital energies of the animals much less than might be sup- posed, and often, perhaps, not at all. From these internal foes, the bonito probably suffers less than from the harassments of larger fishes, of which it is the common prey ; while in turn it harasses the flying fish, not only chasing them through the water, but springing at them as they sweep above the surface, and generally . It is only the smaller of the flying fish, however, that become its prey.
The albicore or albacore, is a fish often alluded to by voyagers; but under this term it would appear that several of the family of Scomberide are confounded, the term, in fact, being indefinite. It has, we believe, been applied to that singular animal the pilot-fish, (Nawcrates ductor,) and also to the Scomber glaucus of Lin- neeus. Lacépéde, in his “ Histoire Natu- relle des Poissons,” restricts the term albicore to the species described under that title by Sloane, in his History of Jamaica, a species which Cuvier refers to his genus Auxis, (See Regni Anim., vol. ii. page 199,) a genus of the Scomberide, With respect to the particular species in- tended by voyagers, (seeing that the appellation is vaguely used,) it cannot always be identified ; for it seldom hap- pens that their accounts descend to minute details. Like the tunny, however, and others of the same family, it is first seen in three degrees north latitude, and fol-
As in-
lowed the ship to eleven degrees south, a distance of eight hundred and forty miles.
To the fishes already noticed, we have to add a few observations on a fish termed skipper, which is met with in the warmer latitudes in great abundance, and which
| algo visits our shores in the month of
June, sometimes appearing in vast shoals, of which several instances are on record. The skipper, or saury pike (Scomberesox saurus) is eminently gregarious, herding in shoals of thousands, perpetually ex- posed to the ravages of their foes, of which dolphins, bonitos, and tunnies are among the most harassing. The velocity and activity of the skipper are amazingly great: when a shoal of these fishes (often amounting to twenty thousand) is pur- sued by an army of dolphins, the congre- gated multitude spring out of the water, crowded together in singular confusion ; then falling into their native element, they all rush along the surface for more than a hundred yards, without once dipping, beneath, and scarcely seeming to touch the water; they then rise again, and again falling, continue their arrow-like course. In the mean time, their enemiesare close in their track, and leap as they leap, if possible, across the line of their progress, in order to have the better chance. In this manner, the one party intent upon their prey, the other straining to escape, the mingled crowd sweep along, rise, and sweep along, appearing lost, and re-ap- pearing, till they all vanish in the dis- tance. If, however, the skipper is thus harassed by the larger fishes of the ocean, it harasses others in turn, and thus is the balance maintained.
The skipper is closely related to our well-known gar fish, (Belone.) Its length is from one to two feet, the jaws are nar- row and elongated; the form is long, slender, and compressed. The head and back are of a fine rich dark blue, becom- ing paler, and assuming a greenish tint on the sides; the under surface is silvery white.
There is a remarkable genus of fishes related to Scomberesox, termed by Cuvier Henmiramphus, from the peculiar con- struction of the snout; the upper jaw is short, and is furnished with small teeth ; but the lower jaw, also furnished with teeth, has its anterior point or angle pro- longed into an acute beak-like projection, destitute of teeth. The French term these fish demi-bees, or half-beaks, in allusion
12
AMUSEMENTS
IN CHINA.
to this singular conformation; they are | the ocean, though an instance is on record strictly confined to the warmer latitudes of | of one having been taken near our coast.
The Hemiramphus is long, slender, and compressed; the specimens we have seen do not much exceed twelve inches; it is a prey to the more rapacious of the finny tribe, but its peculiar habits and man- ners are little known. The habits, indeed, of most of the oceanic fishes are neces-
sarily but imperfectly understood: the deep is their home and hiding-place, and it is only when they force themselves as it were upon his notice, that man is en- abled to glean a partial account of their economy.—M.
AMUSEMENTS IN CHINA.
Tue Chinese, in times of public fes- tivity, amuse themselves by lifting up a wheel and axle. The axle is a heavy piece of wood, and is furnished at each end by a wheel cut of a block of granite. Those who are ambitious to display their activity or to improve their strength, first lift this unwieldy device to their knees; then raise it upon their arms; and lastly, heave it aloft in the air. Muscular strength and dexterity, acquired by practice, are alike necessary for excelling in this kind of exercise.
A favourite amusement among the middle classes of China consists in pro- jecting a ball, or balloon in miniature, into the air, by a smart and sudden stroke, given with the inside of the foot. The ball is hollow, and made of some elastic material. The merit lies in performing this action of the foot not only so as to drive it aloft, in a direction nearly per- pendicular to the horizon, but so as to give the least possible discomposure to the pliant limbs and long robes of the competitor. He, therefore, bears away the
alm of excellence, who, when the ball happens to fall near to hin, can elevate it again by a slight and seemingly careless use of his foot. The writer saw some
Malays at Singapore engaged in this
sport, who, when questioned as to the name of it in that language, said it was Bugis permain, a Bugis game, implying that they had borrowed it from the na- tives who inhabit the Bay of Boni, in the island of Celebes, Indian Archipelago.*
The Chinese are very expert in the manufacture of kites, and leave us far behind in devices for soaring aloft into the air. They do not confine themselves to the rhombus, or diamond, or to any other particular form, but extend their choice to birds, fish, and butterflies. The imitation in shape is very exact, and so contrived as to mimic the action of the living creature which is taken as a model for it. If it is a fish, the tail vibrates, and the rest of the body as- sumes an undulatory motion, so that it seems as if it were making its way through the liquid air. If it bears the semblance of a butterfly, it exhibits, when agitated by the wind, the dodging flutter of that insect. But the imitation most in cha- racter, and consequently most apt to im- pose upon the spectator, is that of a fish- ing-hawk. These are often seen in the
* In the Chinese Encyclopedia it is said to have been the invention of Hwang Te, an emperor, who lived before the flood, according to native chrono- logy. It was intended for the diversion and exer- cise of the soldiers,
AMUSEMENTS IN CHINA.
summer season, hovering over the river near Canton, just as the birds are wont to do in creeks and harbours near the sea, and copy so exactly their pendant mode of staying themselves in the air, that the writer was for some time deceived by them. An elastic piece of board is often connected with the string, which utters a humming sound as it is put into action by the varying tensions of the cord.
The swing is a diversion in some re- quest among them. A board, which an- swers the purpose of a seat, is suspended from some lofty tree, so that the oscilla- tions of this pendulum are performed in the arc of a very large circle. The ex- tent of the sweep, and the height to which the swing soars, try the courage and resolution of the party who ventures upon such long-winded excursions, while the cries of “ Forbear!’’ “Stop!” ‘ Not so high!” are the subjects of great mirth to the numerous spectators. In the sec- tion of the Chinese Encyclopedia dedicat- ed to sports, a lady is represented as en- joying this exercise in a swing that is suspended from a beam, supported by two posts. ‘The scene is laid amidst the trees and rockwork of a Chinese garden.
The Chinese are gamblers from their childhood, and seem to prefer games of chance to almost every other species of amusement. A table, with a large circle divided into eight arcs or sections, is very common near the places of public resort. These eight sections are an imitation of the eight kiva, or philosophic emblems of permutation. A shaft turns upon a pivot, like the needle of a compass, which the player, after placing his money upon one of the sections, whirls round in glowing hope that it will stop and point towards the arc he has selected. If this happens, the sum staked is doubled; but it is easy to see, by the slightest reference to the “doctrine of chances,” that the proba- bility of his winning is small, when com- pared with the chance. <A_ bystander once pointed this out to a man who was losing his money at the game; but he seemed to think it was all fair enough, as no one was obliged to play against his will.
Of still more frequent appearance is the man who seats himself upon a stool, inverts the lid of the basket which holds his vendibles, and, treating it as a table, displays thereon a heap of earthenware dice, and a square, parted into four quar- ters, and marked with the numbers 1, 2, 38,4, After the player has placed his
13
money upon one of the divisions, the owner of the table separates a quantity of dice from the heap, at random, and then, by means of a curved stick, counts this quantity out into fours; if the remainder corresponds to the number on which the stake is laid, the player has it doubled ; if not, it islost. The probability of being the ultimate gainer on the side of the table-holder, is, in the case of the eight kiva, as seven to two; in this, which is called mae fan tan, as three to two. The money won is usually expended for rice balls, filled with meat and vegetables, for slices of pork, etc., which are stored up in the cell beneath the table, or dis- played in some convenient vessel hard by, to attract the venturous hopes of the hungry. The sounds of glee and merri- ment are often heard here, but it is a rare thing to see any one of the players lose their temper. ‘They rejoice aloud when they win, and bear their losses with the best graces of silence.
That cruel and heartless amusement, cockfighting, was thought worthy of a place in the Encyclopedia referred to in a foregoing paragraph, where a Chinese is urging two combatants to a close, while two young gentlemen are looking on with great delight. The writer, however, has no reason for believing that it is very com- mon, as he saw only two or three in- stances in the course of many and various rambles. In fact, crickets seem to have displaced chanticleer; for at certain sea- sons of the year these are exposed for sale in great numbers, about the environs of Canton. They are kept in pans, co- vered with iron network, and chirp with a cheerful vigour, as if they were well pleased with their confinement. They appear to have sagacity enough to under- stand why they are deprived of their liberty, and to rejoice in the work of fighting to amuse and profit their master ; for as soon as his summons is heard, the creature puts itself in an attitude of defence, and chirps his note of defiance.
Archery is a favourite kind of exercise with all the more polished parts of Chinese society. Scholars, after the ex- ample of Confucius and many a re- nowned person before his day, regard skill in the management of the bow as a qualification worthy of a gentleman. They may sometimes be seen in some open space, indulging this predilection with different degrees of success as to ° their aim. Their target resembles ours, and so affords a sort of graduated scale
14
for estimating the merits of each com- petitor. The hand that pulls the string is drawn towards the ear, as it ought to be, for hitting a mark. As the recoil of the string is considerable, a guard is placed around the right thumb, to pro- tect it from injury. This piece of de- fence is often made of jade, and worn as an ornament, and as a badge of the wearer’s pretensions in archery.
Jugglers, of a genteel and polished bearing, occasionally come down to Can- ton from Pekin, to exhibit their feats, for the diversion of the great men in the provincial city. Their performances are conducted in a kind of dialogue; while one performs the trick, another asks ques- tions and wonders. A long preamble in- troduces each separate act of ingenuity, and is followed by several interludes, when the process admits of division. This accompaniment is considered so es- sential, that the fellow who displays his sleight of hand in the street thinks it ne- cessary to get some clown to echo his words.
Dramatic performances are very com- mon in China, and the source of much at- traction. The buildings for this purpose are of temporary construction, and are of a quadrangular form. One end is occu- pied by the stage, two sides by galleries intended for gentlemen, while at the other end is a gallery set apart for the ladies, which gives them a front view of the spectacle. Interest or money is ne- cessary for obtaining a place in the gal- leries; the pit is free, and therefore usually crowded to overflowing. On some oc- casions, several thousands are convened together, all eager to secure a place; but so excellent are the police regulations,
and so reasonable are the habits of the’
populace, that quarrels are seldom wit- nessed ; and as the Chinese who delight in ardent spirits have the decency to keep their excesses out of public view, no irregularities or disturbances arise from the freaks of drunken men. The scenery is very imperfect, but the dresses are rich and costly, and would not mis- become the kings and princes to whom they are supposed to belong. The sub- jects for representation are generally of an historical kind, and to a foreigner are very instructive, as exhibiting the in- terior of the council chamber, and thus setting before him, in lively portraiture, ' the forms of business, the etiquette and the deliberations of the court. Scenes of domestic life are often displayed with a
DIVINE FORBEARANCE ABUSED.
minute attention to truth, so that, to use a homely phrase, they fairly ‘‘ turn a Chinese house inside out.” In any matter of a diplomatic or official character, the word of a Chinese cannot be relied upon ; yet upon the stage, he labours to tell the truth with a pains and accuracy that are truly wonderful, and his success in this way leaves him almost without a rival.
a —
DIVINE FORBEARANCE ABUSED.
‘“‘ Because sentence againstan evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in © them to do evil,” Eccles. viii. 11. Thus the Divine forbearance towards sinners, which ought to produce grateful emotions, and lead to the renunciation of those practices a holy God abhors, is abused and dishonoured, by the thoughtless and profane; and because the lightnings of Divine wrath do not flash upon their spirits, and the judgments of God de not reach them in the actual commis- sion of iniquity, they encourage them- selves in sin with more daring boldness. How awful an exhibition of human de- pravity is thus presented to the universe of God! How perilous a position do such despisers of the riches of the goodness and forbearance of the Lord occupy.
The dealings of the ‘ only wise God” towards such persons, are among the mysteries of his providence, that often exercise the faith of his people here, and incite them to look forward to the hour, when a full development of the ‘“ ways which are now past finding out,” shall take place; with an interest heightened by the conviction that “the Judge of all the earth” must “ doright.” This feature in the dispensations of Jehovah, supplies to the Christian a theme suitable for pro- fitable reflection, and presents to the un- decided and presumptuous man a subject demanding his earnest and devout con- sideration, Partially may we discover, even here, where ‘we see through a glass darkly,’’ the reasons of the Divine procedure; perfectly shall we behold them in the light of eternity.
Look at the fact of the Divine forbear- ance, in not executing vengeance on sin- ners. Millions in open rebellion against God, receive from him the blessings of life, health, food, protection; many have more than-heart can wish: nay, an inspired writer tells us, ‘‘ They are not in trouble as other men.” Prosperity smiles:
DIVINE FOREEARANCE ABUSED, 15
upon them; whatever they undertake seems to prosper. Why does Jehovah thus act towards them? That his goodness may lead to repentance. Most beauti- fully does God illustrate his own truth, and enforce most powerfully his own in- junction, “Do good to them that hate _ you.” Another end, too, is gained; the faith of his people is put to a severe, yet not unnecessary test, and trial is made of them, whether they can rely im- plicitly upon the Divine promises, and consent cheerfully to forego worldly ad- vantages, which others enjoy who know not God, and endure present privations of which others are ignorant, sustained by the assurances of the glory that is to be revealed.
_ That the forbearance of God does not arise either from indifference or igno- rance, or is displayed because of the ab- sence of power to punish, no one, with the Bible in his hand, can, for a moment, seriously believe. And sometimes, by suddenly bringing upon daring and hard- ened transgressors, awful and remediless ruin, by rising to judgment, and sweep- ing away, with the whirlwind of his wrath, those who lifted up their hand against him, he compels the blasphemer and the scoffer to exclaim, “ Verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth.”’ Let the doubter of this truth gaze upon the gloomy waters, or sterile and solitary shores of the sea of the plain; or visit the heaped ruins of Babylon, where no Arab ‘pitches his tent, or shepherds make their fold,’ and read its confirma- tion.
. But what is, too frequently, the effect of the Divine forbearance? Alas! so de- generate is man, that he interprets it falsely, and acts according to his inter- pretation, “‘ He hath said in his heart, God hath forgotten; he hideth his face ; he will never see it,’ Psa.x. 11. He points to his prosperous circumstances, as a reply to any remonstrance that may be. made against his continuance in sin, and asks, ‘‘ Were the Divine Being of- fended with me, would he thus favour me?” and he resolves to maintain his former practices. Now, if he were cor- rect in his assumption that outward pros- perity is always a sign of favour with God, his question would be unanswerable. But this is not true. It is a fact, that some whom God loves he is pleased to favour with a large degree of success in their temporal affairs, and honours them, by making them the possessors of many
worldly advantages; but the logic is at fault, which infers therefrom, that all those who enjoy these advantages and successes of a temporal nature, are the friends and loved ones of God. ‘I have seen the wicked in great power,” says David, ‘‘and spreading himself like a green baytree,” Psa. xxxvii. 35. This statement of the royal psalmist may re-
ceive corroboration every where, and at
any time.
The rule, which of course has excep- tions, by which Jehovah generally deals with his people, is, that ‘in the world they shall have tribulation; and some of the greatest saints have borne the great- est trials, ‘to the praise of the glory of his grace.’’ ‘‘ What are these which are arrayed inw hite robes? and whence came they?” was the question asked, when a vision of the glorious scenes, and bright and happy dwellers of the celestial state, was permitted to the beloved disciple. And the reply was, “ These are they which came out of great tribulation,” Rev. vii. 13, 14. The man who was borne by an- gels to the bosom of Abraham was on earth a beggar; he was a wealthy and luxurious epicure at whose gate he lay, helpless and disregarded, who ‘‘ in hell lifted up his eyes, being in torment.’’ How often is the judgment of men deceived ! Great caution is requisite in construing the providences of the present life ; in the eternal world there will be no possibility or opportunity of mistake.
Yet it is too generally the case with men, as Solomon asserts, ‘‘ Because sen- tence against an evil work is not exe- cuted speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil.” ‘ They flatter themselves in their own eyes,” and go on still further in the career of guilt: as the liar, who escapes the discovery of his first falsehood, tries the experiment again and again.
See that young man! he enjoyed the invaluable advantages of a religious edu- cation, but soon threw off the restraints of parental authority, and rushed into sin. After the feverish excitement of some forbidden pleasure had passed away, and cool reflection had led him to see the baseness of his conduct, he writhed in anguish. The lessons of childhood, the warnings of parents, the solemn instruc- tions of ministers, the words of God, all were vividly remembered; and he shook with terror, as he anticipated some dread- ful visitation from an insulted Deity. But all was still; no voice from heaven,
16
speaking in some terrible act of retribu- tion, was heard; and emboldened by the impunity with which he sinned, he yielded to temptation again. Once more reflec- tion followed, and fear shook his soul, al- though with less violence than before; but again he escaped; until at length he has grown hardened in wickedness, and remorse is no longer felt. He laughs at his former scruples; believes that Christians are righteous over much; and thinks that his fears about sin were groundless. His health is good, his pros- pects fair and cloudless; he will not be deterred from ‘ walking in the ways of his heart, and in the sight of his eyes.” He has hitherto escaped Divine vengeance, why should he not again? He has made up his mind to pursue his course, and be reckless of consequences.
But, is such an one unnoticed? No. **Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see him? saith the Lord,” Jer. xxiii. 24. Will he escape with im- punity? ‘His judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and his damnation slumbereth not,” 2 Pet. ii. 3. The angel of the Divine wrath even now brandishes over him the flaming sword of righteous vengeance. But the uplifted arm is stayed. It may be, that the long-suffer- ing of Jehovah yet displays itself. Al- though sin has abounded, mercy does yet more abound. Should not this lead to repentance? Is any one congratu- lating himself on freedom from the re- proaches of conscience, and the absence of all evidence of the Divine displeasure towards him, although he is living in sin? Surely there is no adequate cause for rejoicing. Tears of blood would be more befitting his condition, for God is leaving him to his own undoing. ‘* The end of those things is death.” Knows he not that death often comes without a pre- monitory symptom or sound of warning? So may destruction. Oh, let every man in this position of hostility towards his Maker, who yet is untouched by the vengeance of God, be alarmed at the awful repose around him: it is but the ominous stillness before the clouds of heaven burst, the red lightning descends, and the living is numbered with the dead. Let him cry, while yet there may be hope,
**O God! my inmost soul convert, And deeply on my thoughtless heart ; Eternal things impress.”
This should be the result of the long-
suffering of God. The hearts of men
HOSPITALITY IN GREENLAND.»
ought to be humbled, under a conviction of their base ingratitude, and the un- worthy return they have made for his goodness. They ought to love Him whose proof of his own words that he has ‘no pleasure in the death of a sinner,” is so abundant ; and seek the pardon and ac- ceptance of their souls through that Re- deemer whose mighty intercession averts the consequences of man’s guilt. Their long rejection of the invitations of the gospel should cease, and they accept its offers without delay. Let them ‘“ seek the Lord while he may be found, and call upon him while he is near.” To- day there is hope, to-morrow they may be in eternity. This hour they may exult in the carelessness of their spirit and freedom from punishment; the next, the terrified soul may stand trembling and condemned at the tribunal of God. Then how thrilling his words: ‘ These things hast thou done, and I kept silence ; thou thoughtest that I was altogether such an one as thyself: but I will reprove thee, and set them in order before thine eyes,” Psa. 1. 21. Then will he “ discern be- tween the righteous and the wicked,” Mal. iii, 18.. The sentence against the ungodly will then be executed, “ The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God,” Psa. ix. 17. Awful catastrophe, only to be averted by listening to the gracious words, ‘‘ The Son of man is come to save that which was lost; Iam come to call sinners to repentance. Whosoever will, let him come. He that believeth, though he were dead in sins, yet shall he live, and have everlasting life.’ Luke xix. 10; Matt. xix. 13; Rev. xxii. 17; John xi. 25. Let every one who hears obey: let none fear rejection, however far they may have gone astray from God. ‘¢ For ne’et hath prodigal come round, Subdued in heart, and craving grace, Whate’er his faults, who hath not found Forgiveness in the Saviour’s face. A contrite heart he will not scoff; Whoever knocks, an entrance wins: Then let us at the cross throw off The burden of our sins;
And though their dye be black as night, His blcod can make—has made them white.”
; TD stke sie elenioaeine
HOSPITALITY IN GREENLAND,
WHENEVER a Stranger comes into a
house, he never asks for victuals, though never so hungry: nor is there any need he should; for they generally exercise great hospitality, and are free with what they have.—Lgede,
ROMISH INDULGENCES.
17
pn Q]
aT
anoNRH
Sale of Indulgences,
ROMISH INDULGENCES.
Great excitement prevailed, in 1517, among the people in Germany. The Romish church had opened a vast market on earth. The crowd of customers, and the cries and jests of the sellers, might have suggested the idea of a fair, and that a fair held by monks. The goods of which they vaunted the quality, and which they offered at the lowest price, were, they said, the salvation of souls.
When the cross had been elevated in a church, and the pope’s arms hung upon it, Tetzel ascended the pulpit, and with a con- fident air began to extol the worth of in- dulgences in presence of the crowd whom the ceremony had attracted to the sacred place. The people listened, open-mouth- ed, to the account of the admirable virtues announced to them. <A Jesuit historian says, speaking of the Dominican monks, whom Tetzel had taken as his associates : ‘Some of these preachers failed not, as usual, to overdo the subject they handled,
and to exaggerate the value of indulgences to such a degree, as to give the people reason to believe that one was assured of the salvation of his soul, and of the re- lease of souls from purgatory, the mo- ment he had paid his money.” If such were the disciples, we may imagine what was the master.
The sermon ended, the indulgence was considered as “having solemnly estab- lished its throne in that place.” Con- fessionals, adorned with the pope’s arms, were arranged; the sub-commissioners, and the confessors chosen by them, were held to represent the apostolic penances of Rome in the time of a great jubilee ; and on each of their confessionals were written, in large letters, their names, Christian names, and titles.
The crowd now flocked to the confes- sors: they came not with contrite hearts * but with a piece of money in their hands. Men, women, and children, poor people, and those who lived on alms, found
Cc
18
money, every one. ‘The penancers, after having again setforth to each, individually, the greatness of the indulgence, put this question to the penitents: ‘‘ How much money can you in conscience spare to obtain so perfect a remission?”’ This question, says the instruction of the archbishop of Mentz to the sub-commis- sioners, must be put at this moment, in order that the penitents may be thereby better disposed to contribute.
No other preparations whatever were required, on the part of the people, than those we have mentioned. In the pope’s bull there was, at least, mention of re- pentance of heart, and confession by mouth; but Tetzel and his companions took good care to say nothing of this: their purses would otherwise have re- mained empty.
The following is one of the letters of absolution. It is worth while to know the contents of one of those diplomas that occasioned the reformation of the church :
“ Our Lord Jesus Christ have pity on thee, N. N., and absolve thee by the merits of his most holy passion! And I, by virtue of the apostolic power which has been confided to me, do absolve thee from all ecclesiastical censures, judg- ments, and penalties, which thou mayest have merited; also, from all excesses, sins, and crimes, which thou mayest have committed, however great and enormous they may be, and for whatsoever cause, even though they had been reserved to our most holy father the pope, and the apos- tolic see. I efface all attainders of unfit- ness, and all marks of infamy thou may- est have drawn upon thee on this occasion; I remit the punishments thou shouldest have had to endure in purgatory ; I make thee anew a participator in the sacra- ments of the church; I incorporate thee afresh in the communion of the saints, and I reinstate thee in the innocence and purity in which thou wast at the hour ofthy baptism ; so that at the hour of thy death, the gate, through which is the entrance to the place of torments and punish- ments, shall be closed against thee; and on the contrary, that which leads to the paradise of joy shall be open to thee. And shouldest thou not be to die soon, this grace shall remain immutable to the time of thy last end.
“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
“ Brother John Tetzel, commissioner, has signed it with his own hand.”
How dexterously presumptuous and
ROMISH INDULGENCES. “-
lying words are here commingled with holy and Christian expressions!
‘rhe mission ended, the merchants re- galed themselves after their labours. The commissioner-general’s instructions for- bade them, it is true, to frequent public © houses and suspected places; but they cared little for this prohibition. Sins could not have had many terrors for peo- ple who made so easy a trade of them. “The collectors led a bad life,” says a Roman Catholic historian; ‘‘they spent in the public-houses, gaming-houses, and houses of ill-fame, all that the people spared from their necessities.’’ It is even asserted, positively, that they made it an occasional practice, in the public houses, to play at dice for the salvation of souls.
Thus Tetzel himself was preparing the Reformation : by the outrageous abuses he was guilty of, he was paving the way for a purer doctrine ; and the indignation he was kindling in a body of generous youths, was one day to burst forth with vehemence. Some idea of the force of this feeling may be derived from the fol- lowing anecdote.
A Saxon gentleman, who had heard Tetzel at Leipsic, had felt indignant at his falsehoods. Going up to the monk, he asks him whether he had the right of par- doning the sins which it is intended to commit. ‘ Certainly,” replies Tetzel, ‘I have received full power so to do from the pope.” ‘Very well,’’ rejoins the gentleman, ‘‘I should like to inflict a little vengeance on one of my enemies, without attempting his life. I will give you ten crowns, if you will give me a let- ter of indulgence, justifying me fully with regard to that matter.” Tetzel made some objections; they agreed, however, at last, and the bargain was struck for twenty crowns. Soon after this, the monk set off from Leipsic. The gentle- man, accompanied by his valets, waited for him in a wood between Jiiterbock and Treblen, and rushing upon him as he came up, had him moderately cudgelled, and carried off the rich indulgence-coffer which the inquisitor was conveying with him. Tetzel made a furious outcry about this act of violence, and laid his com- plaint before the magistrates. The gen- tleman, however, showing the letter which Tetzel himself had signed, and which ex- empted the delinquent beforehand from all penalty, duke George, who had been at first greatly incensed at the deed, or- dered “that the accused should be fully acquitted.— From D’ Aubigné.
ENGLISH
ENGLISH HISTORY. CHARLES I,
THERE was now no doubt that a civil war had begun; and that, after an inter- val of a century and a half, the fields of our island were again to be drenched with the blood of men of England, slain by their fellow-countrymen. —-
The royalists did not feel much confid- ence, when the king raised his standard at Nottingham, August 22, 1642. He was advised to retire to York, as the earl of Essex was concentrating the parlia- mentary forces at Northampton. Charles refused, but consented to send the earl of Southampton and Dorset, with sir John
Culpepper, to London, thinking that if the parliament would not treat, the people -
would be less willing to support their cause. The parliament declined entering into any negotiations, unless the king would take down his standard, and recall some late proclamations. This was not listened to, and prince Rupert, the son of the late palatine, by the king’s sister, having arrived, strongly urged hostilities. At the head of some cavalry, he made a hasty expedition through several of the midland counties, raising soldiers for the king’s army ; and committing acts of vio- lence and military pillage on the country through which he passed, hitherto un- known in England, though practised throughout Germany during the thirty years’ war.
The marquis of Hertford was engaged in raising troops in the west; and about the middle of September, the king march- ed from Nottingham to join him. His army did not commit the same outrages as the troops of prince Rupert; and whilst on the march, he made a public and solemn declaration, that his intention was strictly to support the true Protestant religion, the laws and liberties of the king- dom, and the just privileges of parliament. People, however, could not but recollect, that though he had lately issued a pro- clamation at York, forbidding Papists to join his army, yet there were many at court and in the camp, and he was on his march to unite “with others, then taking up arms in his behalf; and only a few days afterwards he wrote to the earl of Newcastle, in the north, not to inquire into the opinions of the men offering to serve, if they were loyalists. Such a course rendered many men un- willing to give the confidence to this unhappy king’s declarations, which they would otherwise have obtained ; still they
HISTORY. 19
made considerable impression, and the number of his troops increased.
The royal army arrived at Shrewsbury on September 20, where they were well received, the king still pursuing measures of mildness and persuasion. Here he raised considerable sums of money, the Romanists in particular assisting. Lord Spencer, then in attendance at Shrews- bury, did not hesitate to write, that the king was averse to peace, and that there was much reason for apprehension, if the king and his immediate supporters should
revail.
The earl of Essex having secured War- wickshire, set forward to intercept the king’s march to the west. After defeat- ing prince Rupert, he occupied Worcester, where he remained. A month’s stay at Shrewsbury increased the royal army, and the king determined to leave the earl of Essex, and march direct for London. He began this march on October 20, halting on the 22nd at Edgehill, on the borders of Warwickshire and Oxford- shire, the parliamentary army occupying the adjacent village of Keinton, the same evening. Their march was so hasty, that a part of the troops were not come up; and, by the advice of his council, the king resolved to turn, and attack Essex.
On the morning of Sunday, October 23, the royal army appeared drawn up on Edgehill: the parliamentarians were arranged on the lower ground. For some hours the armies stood facing each other, as though both were reluctant to begin: the fatal affray ; but at two o’clock Essex ordered his artillery to fire. The royalists then advanced; Rupert charged with his cavalry, and routed the troops opposed to him, but rashly pursued the fugitives to Keinton, where his followers plundered the baggage. Meanwhile, the centre of the parliamentarians repulsed their oppo- nents. Sir Edward Varney, the king’s standard bearer, was slain, and the ge- neral, the earl of Lindsay, being mortally wounded, was taken prisoner. Prince Rupert returned too late to remedy this disaster; but the parliamentarians, from want of ammunition, or some other cause, did not pursue their advantage. The royal army continued in its original po- sition on the high ground, while Essex occupied the field of contest, strewed, as it is estimated, with the dead’ bodies of more than four thousand English, thus slaughtered by their countrymen. On the following day, the earl retired to War- wick, counselled by his officers, who had
c 2
20 ENGLISH served on the continent, and were not eager to close the war, though against the wish of Hollis and others. The king drew off to Banbury, while Rupert, on the Tuesday night, attacked Keinton with a party of horse, putting to death many of the sick and wounded, with his accus- tomed barbarity.
The news of the battle was soon carried to London by fugitives, whose reports excited much alarm; but when farther intelligence was received, the parliament claimed the victory. Certainly the battle retarded the advance of the royalists upon London, though it would not have prevented it, had the king pursued his previous determination. His delay was a mistake fatal to his success, though even his council did not wish him to re- gain power by conquest. The king first turned aside to Oxford, where he was joyfully received by the university. Many gentlemen, who had hitherto stood aloof, joined the royalists; these cavaliers en- abled prince Rupert again to advance with a marauding party, who proceeded as far as Staines, exciting much alarm in the metropolis, and causing the parlia- ment to have recourse to active measures for increasing their army. The appren- tices were encouraged to enlist, and con- siderable support was drawn from the eastern counties, then organizing under Oliver Cromwell. On November 7, Essex arrived in London, quartering his army in the towns and villages on the western side.
From Oxford the king proceeded to Reading, and afterwards advanced to Colnbrook, where he was met by the earl of Northumberland and three com- moners, with a petition for pacific mea- sures. The king returned a favourable answer, on which the parliament ordered Essex to suspend hostilities; but the instructions were hardly given, when the sound of cannon called the general from the House of Lords. Hastening towards Brentford, he found that, notwithstand- ing his peaceable answer, the king had ordered an attack upon that town, under the cover of a thick fog; but the regiment of Hollis resisted, till reinforcements were brought, and the royalists gave up the attempt.
Sunday, November 24, was desecrated, by the preparations for a conflict, Essex then was at the head of 24,000 men; all was ready for an assault on the royal army. ‘Troops were already moving, to intercept the king’s retreat, when Essex again, under the advice of his stipend-
HISTORY.
iary officers, forbore the attack, and the king was allowed to retire to Oxford un- molested.
During the winter, the military opera- tions were confined to predatory and ma- _ rauding expeditions, each party strength- ening itself for farther proceedings. In March, negotiations were entered upon ; Northumberland and others were received as commissioners from the parliament, of- fering to negotiate on the following terms : that the king should disband his army, and return to the parliament ; that delin- quents, as the principal supporters of the king’s measures were called, should be left for trial; that Papists should be dis- armed; that the bishops should be done away, and a general pardon granted; excluding, however, some of the most staunch supporters of the throne.
These terms did not indicate much sincerity in the desires professed by the parliament for peace. The king, on the other hand, required that his revenue, garrisons, and ships should be restored ; that whatever had been done contrary to his right, and all acts of illegal power by the parliament, should be recalled and disclaimed, offerig that he would con- sent to the execution of the laws against Papists, provided that the sectaries might not prevail; and that all persons left out of the pardon should be tried by their. peers.
The treaty, as might be expected, was broken off, after several weeks’ confer- ences: meanwhile hostile movements proceeded. Reading was taken by the earl of Essex, when Hampden again ad- vised bold measures, and the investment of Oxford, a step which would probably have ended the war, as that city was not prepared for a siege; but Essex evidently was averse to bold designs, probably dreading the consequences of an uncon- ditional triumph over the king, and he continued inactive at Reading for several weeks.
The warfare proceeded in other parts of England with different success. Waller gained advantages for the parliament, occupying Portsmouth and Winchester, and penetrating to Hereford. In the north, the queen landed on February 22, 1643, at Burlington ; she was conducted to York by the earl of Newcastle, who was stronger than Fairfax his opponent ; but the warfare was desultory, and the attacks only partial.
The king remained inactive at Oxford for want of ammunition; but in May he
ENGLISH
received a supply from York, upon which he again offered terms to the parliament ; these were not listened to, and the Com- mons even impeached the queen of trea- son! The excitement against the royal- ists was increased about this time, by the discovery of a design of Waller and others, to deliver the city of London to the king’s forces. The leader gave up his associates, and was allowed to escape after paying a heavy fine, while his bro- ther-in-law, and another, were hanged. After this, the Commons made a solemn engagement not to consent to peace while the Papists were protected; they caused a great seal to be made, on which the houses of parliament were represented, and ordered an assembly of divines to meet for settling religion.
In the west, a plot was detected for seizing Bristol for the king; two of the leaders were hanged on a charge of hav- ing acted as spies. The king, as he had previously done, declared that he would execute some of his prisoners; but retaliation having been threatened, both parties continued to treat all taken under ordinary circumstances, as prisoners of war. Amidst the many very painful matters that attended this civil war, it is some satisfaction to Englishmen to think, that the cruel ferocity which has been dis- played elsewhere, in similar scenes, was seldom manifested, and not in any sys- tematic course. May not this be partly attributed to the greater prevalence of Christian knowledge among the lower classes of England at this period, than has existed at any time in those lands which are benighted in the ignorance of Popery ?
Mrs. Hutchinson, a contemporary writer, thus speaks of the times: ‘It was not in the midnight of Popery, nor in the dawn of the gospel’s restored day, when light and shades were blended, and almost undistinguished ; but when the Sun of truth was exalted in his progress, and hastening towards a meridian glory. It was, indeed, early in the morning, God being pleased to allow me the privil- ege of beholding the-admirable growth of gospel light in my days; and oh, that my soul may never forget to bless and praise his name for the wonders of power and goodness, wisdom and truth, which have been manifested in my time!”
Many, however, have misrepresented the great mass of the supporters of the parliament as a brutal and ferocious set of men.
This is not a fair statement. In i
HISTORY. 21
these pages, it is our business to record particulars which may throw light upon the proceedings of all parties, and the following extract is in this view import- ant. The same writer says: “‘ The pay- ment of civil obedience to the king and the laws of the land satisfied not; if any durst dispute his impositions in the wor- ship of God, he was presently reckoned among the seditious and disturbers of the public peace, and accordingly persecuted : if any out of mere morality and civil honesty discountenanced the abomina- tions of those days, he was a puritan, how- ever he conformed to their superstitious worship ; if any showed favour to any godly honest person, kept them company, relieved them in want, or protected them against violent or unjust oppression, he was a puritan; whoever could endure a sermon, modest habit, or conversation, or anything good, all these were puritans ; and if puritans, then enemies to the king and his government, seditious factious hypocrites, ambitious disturbers of the public peace, and finally the pest of the kingdom. Thus the two factions, in those days, grew up to great heights and en- mities, one against the other; while the Papists wanted not industry and subtlety to blow the coals between them, and were so successful that, unless the mercy of God confound them by their own imagina- tions, we may justly fear they will, at last, obtain their full wish.” But Mrs. Hutchinson adds: “The puritan party being weak and oppressed, had not faith enough to disown all that adhered to them for worldly interests, and indeed it required more than human wisdom to discern all of them; wherefore they, in their low condition, gladly accepted any that would come over to them, and their enemies, through envy, augment much their party, while with injuries and re- proaches they drove many that never in- tended it to take that party; which, in the end, got nothing but confusion by those additions.” Such are the painful results to which violent proceedings will lead; and designing men always will be found, who take advantage of party spirit and party proceedings, when carried to any length, though even in resisting what is unjust. It is deeply to be regretted that political leaders will not learn from past events. The history of this civil war, between the king and the people, is re- plete with instruction for all succeeding generations. Oh that men would be wise, and consider it!
22
SERPENT CHARMING.* F
Tue prophet Jeremiah writes, ‘For, behold, I will send serpents, cockatrices, among you, which will not be charmed, and they shall bite you, saith the Lord,”’ Jer. viii. 17. And the Psalmist says, ‘‘ Their poison is like the poison of a ser- pent: they are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her ear; which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely,’”’ Psa. lviii. 4, 5.
The charming or incantation of ser- pents is so singular, that. many have de- nied the fact altogether; and some have asserted that it is an imposture, or de- ception; tame snakes, previously in- structed, being always exhibited. We believe it to be a fact, that serpents can be charmed; in other words, we believe them to be susceptible, in the extreme, of impressions from musical notes, and peculiarly modulated sounds, under which they writhe their bodies from the sensa- tions of pleasure which they experience ; while, to these movements, the charmers know how to adapt the time of their simple strain, or succession of notes.
The ancients were acquainted with this fact. Hence, Orpheus is said to have silenced, by his music, the hissings of the snake-headed Cerberus.
_ € Cerberus Orpheo lenivit sibila cantu.”—Lucan,
He knew how to still the hissing of the serpent when approaching, and render the snake harmless.
Pliny and Seneca both assert, that ser- pents can be drawn from their lurking places by the power of music. Modern travellers and writers have alluded to the same facts, or to the influence of music on thesereptiles. Chardin, Greaves, Shaw, Bruce, and others, might here be cited. Chateaubriand, ‘‘Beauties'of Christianity,” affirms the same with respect to the rat- tlesnake of America. According to his account, a snake of this species once en- tered the encampment of his party in Canada. A Canadian, who could play the flute, advanced, by way of diversion, with this magic instrument, against the reptile. ‘ On the approach of its enemy, the haughty reptile curled itself into a spiral line, flattened its head, inflated its cheeks, contracted its lips, displayed its envenomed fangs, and its bloody throat ; its double tongue glowed like two flames of fire; its eyes were burning coals; its body, swollen with rage, rose and fell
* From Natural History of Reptiles, just pub- lished by the Religious Tract Society.
!
SERPENT CHARMING,
like the bellows of a forge; its dilated skin assumed a dull and scaly appear- ance; and its rattle, which sounded the denunciation of death, vibrated with ex- treme velocity. The Canadian now be- gan to play upon his flute: the serpent started with surprise, and drew back its head. In proportion as it was struck with the magic effect, its eyes lost their fierce- ness, the vibrations of its tail. became slower, and the sound which it emitted gradually became weaker and ceased. The folds of the fascinated serpent be- came less perpendicular upon their spiral line, expanded by degrees, and sunk one after another upon the ground, forming concentric circles. The colours recovered their brilliancy on its quivering skin; and slightly turning its head, it remained motionless in the attitude of attention and pleasure. At this moment, the Ca- nadian advanced a few steps, producing with his flute sweet and simple notes. The reptile inclining its variegated neck, opened a passage with its head through the high grass, and began to creep after the musician, stopping when he stopped, and following him again as soon as he moved forward.”’ In this manner, to the astonishment both of Europeans. and na- tives, he was led out of the camp; and it was unanimously decreed, that the life of a creature, so sensible of ‘‘the concord of sweet sounds,” should be spared.
The serpents upon which the charmers in Egypt and India exercise their art, are chiefly cobras; perhaps because these reptiles, from their size, and the deadli- ness of their venom, offer the most con- vineing and surprising proofs of their skill. These men are, generally, of a separate and distinct caste, or tribe, and arrogate, as might be expected, more credit for their powers than they really are entitled to. They throw an air of mystery over their operations, which has led many to give them no credit, at all. Mr. Johnson, for example, in his sketches of “India Field Sports,”’ says, ‘‘'The professed snake-catchers in India, are a low caste of Hindoos, wonderfully clever in catching snakes, as well as in prac- tising the art of legerdemain: they pre- tend to draw them from their holes by a song, and by an instrument semewhat resembling an Irish bagpipe, on which they play a plaintive tune. The truth is, this is all done to deceive. If ever a snake comes out of a hole at the sound of their music, you may be certain that it is a tame one, trained to it, deprived of its
SERPENT CHARMING. 23
venomous teeth, and put there for the purpose ; and this you may prove, as I have often done, by killing the snake, and examining it, by which you will ex- asperate the man exceedingly.” . ‘That the snake-charmers may often act thus, no one will doubt; but it is no proof that they have not the power of drawing wild snakes from their retreats. Mr. Forbes, in his “‘ Oriental Memoirs,’’ appears disposed to grant that they have the power in question, through the influ- ence of music: and Dr. Shaw states, that a belief in the influence of songs, mut- tered incantations, and sentences written on scrolls, upon venomous snakes, pre- vaijed in Barbary wherever he travelled. That these men break the venom teeth out, by way of precaution, is admitted ; but yet accidents often arise, for in a little time these teeth are renewed. Mr. Johnson states, that a man exhibited a tame dancing cobra before a large party. “A boy, about sixteen years old, was teazing the animal to make it bite him, which it actually did, and to some pur- pose, for in an hour afterwards he died of the bite. The father of the boy was asto- nished, and protested it could not be from the bite, that the snake had no venomous teeth, and that he and the boy had often been bitten by it before, with- out any bad effect. On examining the snake, it was found that the former fangs were replaced by new ones, then not far out of the jaw, but sufficient to bite the boy. The old man said he never saw or heard of such a circumstance before.” With regard, however, to the power of musie on the cobra, the following original communicationin the ‘‘ Penny Magazine”’ is very conclusive. The writer assures us, that he received the narrative from a gentleman of high station in the hon. East India Company’s civil service, at Madras, a man of undoubted veracity. It is as follows:—‘‘ One morning, as I sat at breakfast, I heard a loud noise and shouting amongst my palankeen bearers. On inquiry, I found that they had seen a large hooded snake, (cobra da capello,) and were trying to kill it. I immediately went out, and saw the snake climbing up a very high green mound, whence it escaped into an old wall of an ancient fortification. The men were arnred with their sticks, which they always carry in their hands, and had attempted in vain to kill the reptile, which had eluded their pursuit: in its hole it had coiled itself up secure, whilst we could see its bright
eyes shining. I had often desired to as- certain the truth of the report, as to the effect of music upon the snakes, I there- fore inquired for a snake-catcher. I was told there was no person of that kind in the village; but after a little inquiry, I heard there was one in a village distant three miles. I accordingly sent for him, keeping strict watch-over the snake, which never attempted to escape, whilst we, its enemies, were in sight. About an hour elapsed, when my messenger re- turned, bringing a snake-catcher. This man wore no covering on his head, nor any on his person, excepting a small piece of cloth round his loins. He had in his hands two baskets, one containing tame snakes, one empty. These, and his musical pipe, were the only things he had with him: I made the snake-catcher leave his two baskets on the ground at some distance, while he ascended the mound with his pipe alone. He began to play. At the sound of music, the snake came gradually and slowly out of its hole. When it was entirely within reach, the snake-catcher seized it dexterously by the tail, and held it thus at arm’s length; whilst the snake, enraged, darted its head in all directions, but in vain: thus suspended, it has not the power to round itself, so as to seize hold of its tor- mentor.
‘‘ It exhausted itself in vain exertions, when the snake-catcher descended the bank, dropped it into the empty basket, and closed the lid. He then began to play, and after a short time, raised the lid of the basket; the snake darted about wildly, and attempted to escape; the lid was shut down again quickly, the music always playing. This was repeated two or three times; and in a very short inter- val, the lid being raised, the snake sat on its tail, opened its hood, and danced. as quietly as the tame snakes in the other basket, nor did it again attempt an escape. This, having witnessed with my own eyes, I can assert as a fact.’ *
From the earliest ages, snake-charmers have existed in the east; they were be- lieved to possess some secret magical in- fluence over these reptiles, to be capable of controlling them by charms, or incant-
* Mr. Schomberg states, in reference to a lizard (Anolius bullaris) common in the West Indies, that ‘‘they are often caught by boys, who take advantage of their fondness for musical sounds, arresting their attention, and then throwing a little noose over their head,” as they perch, in a listening at- titude on the branches of the trees. See Linn. Trans., vol. xvii. page 560.
24 SERPENT ations, and even to cure persons who had unfortunately been subjected to their bite.
Among the most celebrated, were the Psylli, a people of Cyrenaica, (a region in Africa abounding in reptiles,) who were reported to possess a natural and inherent power over snakes, which Pliny supposed to be dependent on some peculiar odour in their persons, which these ani- mals abhorred. Lucan, in his ‘‘ Pharsalia,” describes the method adopted by these snake-charmers of preventing the Roman camp from becoming infested with them. They marched around it, chanting mystic sounds; but in addition to these incanta- tions, as night drew on, they kept up fires around the encampment. By magic songs they also pretended to cure such of the soldiers as were bitten, first rubbing the wound with saliva; but when they perceived the symptoms of danger in- crease, they sucked the venom from the wound,
That these Psylli possessed no power beyond what the serpent-catchers of the east at present possess, need scarcely be asserted. They knew, by long experi- ence, the habits of the reptiles, their cha- racter, their virulence; and by practice how to manage them: but they, as well as the present. “ charmers,” pretended to more than they really could perform, and made a profit by their juggling.
Inthe east, charmers, or snake-catchers, make an exhibition of their tame ser- pents, the poison teeth of which are re- moved, and also rid houses of these rep- tiles; for houses are often infested by them, especially when the walls are old, and full of crevices. In both instances, the music of a pipe, or the notes of a small drum, allure the animal from its hiding place. A learned native of India assured Sir W. Jones, that he had fre- quently seen the most venomous and malignant snakes leave their holes upon hearing notes from a flute, which, as he supposed, gave them peculiar delight. In the ‘ Missionary Magazine” for March, 1837, Mr. Gogerly, a missionary in India, states, that some incredulous persons, after the most careful precau- tions against any trick or artifice being played, sent a charmer into the garden to prove his powers. “The man began playing upon his pipe, and proceeding from one part of the garden to another for some minutes, stopped at a part of the wall much injured by age, and inti- mated that a serpent was within. He then played quicker, and his notes were
CHARMING.
louder; when almost immediately a large cobra da capello put forth its hooded head; and the man fearlessly ran to the spot, seized it by the throat, and drew it forth. He then showed the poison-fangs, and beat them out; afterwards, it was taken to the room where his baskets were left, and deposited among the rest.” We have here an instance, not only of the power which these men have of drawing forth snakes from their retreats, but of knowing where they lie hidden, and that without seeing them. Mr. Lane suspects, that they discover the presence of ser- pents by the smell; and this may be true. It may, however, be by the ear; for while others are listening to the music, the charmer. may be listening for the slight rustle, the gentle noise which the reptile roused by the notes would make, as he moved in his hole, and which would betray his presence to the charmer’s practised ear.
Besides the music of pipes, or other instruments, the Egyptian charmers also employ vocal sounds, and a form of words, in order to draw the animals forth. “The charmer,” says Mr. Lane, ‘‘assumes an air of mystery, strikes the walls with a short palm stick, whistles, makes a clucking noise with his tongue, and generally says, ‘I adjure you by God, if ye be above, or if ye be below, that ye come forth; I adjure you by the most great name, if ye be obedient, come forth, and if ye be disobedient, die, die, die!’ The effect produced on the ser- pent is not by the adjuration, but, cer- tainly, by the knocking, and the whist- ling, and the clucking sounds, which experience has led the man to know will influence the snake; while the adjuration will produce its intended effect on the bystanders.
Serpent-charmers, when bitten, die like other men; and accidents of this kind sometimes happen. Roberts mentions the case of a serpent-charmer in India, who came to a gentleman’s house to ex- hibit tame snakes. He was told, that a cobra was in a cage in the house, and was asked if he could charm it. He replied in the affirmative. ‘The serpent was released from the cage, and, doubt- less, in a state of great irritation; the man began his incantations, and repeated his charms: they, however, produced no effect on the snake; it refused to hear the voice of the charmer; it darted at him, and fastened upon his arm. He was dead before night.
HINTS ON HEALTH, FOUNDED ON PHYSIOLOGICAL FACTS,
With respect to the exhibition of tame serpents, which are common in the east, Mr. Gogerly says, that ‘taking out (of their baskets) eight or ten different kinds, they cast them on the ground. ‘The animals immediately make off in dif- ferent directions. The sap-wullah (snake- charmer) then applies his pipe to his mouth, and sends forth a few of his pecu- liar notes, and all the serpents stop as though enchanted; they then turn to- wards the musician, and approaching him within two feet, raise their heads from the ground, and bending backward and forward, keep time with the tune. When he ceases playing, they drop their heads, and remain quiet on the ground.”
In the practices of the modern serpent- charmers of the east, we perceive the force and propriety of the allusion in the Holy Scriptures; and from which we learn, both that snakes were anciently objects of peculiar dread, and that men then practised the same arts of charming them, as in the present day.
Se
HINTS ON HEALTH, FOUNDED ON PHYSIOLOGICAL FACTS.
No. I.
Tue science of physiology, embracing as it does a most extensive range of ob- jects, all exhibiting a nearly endless diversity of phenomena, preconcerted ar- rangements, exquisitely contrived adapta- tions, and conspicuous proofs of beneficent design, is calculated, in every branch of it to which we may direct our attention, to impress us with wonder and amazement at the power, and wisdom, and goodness of God. ‘O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.’’ Happy the individual, who, with filial confidence, the result of a well-grounded assurance that the ‘ Former of all things” is his “ portion,” his Father, his Friend, can add with the Psalmist, “‘ My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the Lord,”
But it is, moreover, a science inti- mately connected with our present wel- fare. Bya diligent-examination of the phenomena of life, we arrive at a correct knowledge of the laws which regulate these phenomena. And health, with all its varied enjoyments—the opportunity which it affords for intellectual and moral improvement, and the ability which it imparts for the performance of those duties by which it is the will of God that we should glorify him and serve our
25
generation—is the result of the unim- peded exercise of these laws. They cannot be violated with impunity. It is chiefly by removing obstacles out of the way of their ordinary operation that medical science is efficient in the treat- ment of disease, when it occurs. It is more especially by the attentive observa- tion of them that its inroads may be avert- ed with any probability of success. We often say familiarly, that “‘ prevention is better than cure ;” but the extent of the applicability of this common adage to the case of our physical well-being, is perhaps far too little estimated. In the event of disease, there is still, it is true, an ex- quisite power left in the animal body, for the reparation of injury; and to be en- abled to assist its exercise by the skilful adaptation of suitable means, is no small blessing. But if the powers of life them- selves, and more particularly the relations between living bodies and the agencies which surround and act upon them, can be proved to be subject to certain laws; and if, by diligently interrogating these, means can be pointed out whereby morbid action may be altogether obviated, health not only retained, but invigorated, and nauseous potions and torturing operations superseded, it must be admitted that there is placed in our possession a boon of still greater magnitude.
“The days of our years are threescore years and ten.” Placed in the most favour- able circumstances, man hastens to decay, till ‘‘ the silver cord is loosed”’ and “ the golden bowl is broken,” and ‘the dust returns unto the earth as it was; and the spirit unto God who gave it.”” But how few attain even unto this allotted period. Of our own population, considerably above half die under twenty-five years of age, nearly three-fourths under the age of forty, and considerably above three- fourths under that of forty-five. Now, making every allowance for the various casualties by which so many of our fellow- immortals are hurried out of time into eternity, it becomes a serious question, and one of deep interest, whether this early mortality is the necessary result of the circumstances in which man is placed in the present world. ‘The only direct dictum of revelation upon the subject ap- pears to be the one just mentioned, and this certainly does not lead to such a con- clusion. “The days of our years are three- score years and ten.’’ Is there, then, any- thing traceable in the structure, or result- ing from the ordinary play of the func-
26
tions of this fearful and wonderful frame, which, in the majority of instances, com- pels the curse to be thus antedated? ‘To a certain extent, the violation of the laws of the animal economy is, we know, in- dissolubly connected with a violation of those ‘‘moral laws,” to the keeping of which is attached ‘the promise of the life that now is;” and thus, to a fearful ex- tent, are disease and death incurred, as the direct wages of sin. But subtracting even the influence of this cause, is it not to be feared that the same result is to a great extent still brought about in a less guilty, but no less certain manner, by ignorance or inattention to these physical laws, which it is as obviously our duty as it is our privilege to understand and com- ply with, not only on our own account, but on that of all who are dependent upon us? Facts are not wanting upon this important subject. They are perpetually accumu- lating, and the more or less established generalizations deducible from them be- come increasingly worthy of attention. The feebleness of the powers of life in infancy, and the difficulty of altogether obviating, by any known means, the con- sequences of hereditary predisposition to disease, would seem to be circumstances, in the present state of our knowledge, calculated, more than any other, almost necessarily to shorten life. Yet even these may be proved to be very much under control, if only measures be carried out in accordance with these laws, and not in opposition to them.
It may not be easy to bring individual cases to the test of demonstrative evi- dence. So much power does the animal body possess, in consequence of the beau- tiful and beneficent provision already al- luded to, to resist as well as to repair in- jury, that upon scarcely any individual case can we lay our finger, and say that such or such an event would necessarily have occurred had not the preventive measure been adopted. But in public institutions —in any case where large numbers of persons of similar age, and placed in the same circumstances, are congregat- ed together, and especially in the public service—results are more easily arrived at. To a few such. facts, by way of illus- tration, and to convey to our readers at a glance the importance of the subject, we will now advert. In some subsequent numbers, it is our intention to give some illustration of the more important of the physical laws to which we allude, in ac- cordance with which the animal body is
HINTS ON HEALTH, FOUNDED ON PHYSIOLOGICAL FACTS.
constructed, and by the regulation of which its functions are developed and exercised; as well as a condensed state- ment of the practical hints deducible therefrom. We may add, in passing, that it is satisfactory to find that the in- fluence of the advance of science in this particular has already been so far felt, that the most accurate statistical details show an increasing diminution in the rate of mortality, in the case of large cities, to — a very considerable amount. About half a century ago, the annual number of deaths in England and Wales were, to the population, about one in forty ; now they are, at most, one in fifty, .In Lon- don, at the same period, the number was as considerable as nearly one in twenty of the inhabitants; it is now estimated to be one in forty.
It was noticed, a few years since, by some physiologists in France, that in consequence of the custom of conveying infants, within a few hours of their birth, to the office of the mayor of the commune, in order that their birth might be regis- tered, a considerable mortality took place. It was discovered, upon more particular observation, that the proportion of deaths, within a very limited period after birth, was much greater in winter than in sum- mer; in the northern and colder, than in the southern and warmer departments ; and in parishes where the inhabitants were scattered over a large surface of ground, than in others where they were more closely congregated round the mayor. Now, it is a well-ascertained fact, that the power of producing heat, in warm-blooded animals, is at its minimum at birth, and increases gradually to adult age. Infants, therefore, at this early period, have very little capability of re- sisting a diminution of temperature; and it was simply from the neglect of this un- deviating law of the animal system, that the mortality was incurred.
The following facts exhibit the result either of the neglect of, or of attention to one or more laws, exceedingly simple ; but as these will be better understood after we have entered into some little ex- planation of the structare and functions of the animal body, we will at present confine ourselves to a bare recital of the facts alone.
A hundred years ago, when the pauper infants of London were received and brought up in the workhouses existing at that time, not above one in twenty-four lived to be a year old; so that, out of
HINTS ON HEALTH, FOUNDED ON PHYSIOLOGICAL FACTS.
two thousand eight hundred annually re- ceived, two thousand six hundred and ninety died. By subsequent arrange- ments, the mortality was reduced to four hundred and fifty out of the same number.
On the 13th of September, 1740, Anson set sail from England in the Centurion, sixty guns, four hundred men, accompa- nied by the Gloucester, fifty guns, three hundred men; the Pearl, forty guns, two hundred and fifty men; the Wager, twenty-eight guns, one hundred and sixty men; the Tryal sloop, eight guns, one hundred men; and two victuallers. By the time they arrived at Brazil, the crews were remarkably sickly, so that many died, and a great number were confined to their hammocks. Onanchoring at St. Catherine’s, eighty patients were sent on ‘shore from the Centurion alone, of whom ‘twenty-eight soon died, and the number of sick increased to ninety-six. After a tedious navigation round Cape Horn, scurvy carried off forty-three men in the month of April, and double that number in May, 1741. Those who re- mained became dispirited, and we are told that this general dejection added to the virulence of the disease, and the mor- tality increased to a frightful degree. On the 9th of June, when in sight of Juan Fernandez, the debility of the people was so great, that, two hundred being already dead, the lieutenant could only muster two quartermasters and six foremast men able for duty in the middle watch, so that had it not been for the assistance of the servants, officers, etc., they would have been unable to have reached the island—to such a condition was the crew of four hundred men reduced in a few months! A Spanish squadron which sailed at the same time, lost three hun- dred and ninety-two out of four hundred men, Let us compare these results with those of the following expeditions. On the 13th of July, 1772, Captain Cooke embarked on his second voyage. Towards the end of August, when advancing in the same southerly direction, he met with the most unhealthy weather ; yet, on ar- riving at the Cape of Good Hope, only -one sick man was on the list. On the 22nd of November, Cooke proceeded to sail in search of a southern continent, and after much unhealthy weather, and en- countering, in particular, sudden changes from heat to cold, and after many hard- ships and dangers, they arrived at Dusky Bay, New Zealand. Still, there was only one man affected by scurvy, and in him
27
it was chiefly occasioned by a bad habit of body, and a complication of other dis- orders. In his last voyage, Cooke brought home his ship, after an absence of four years, without the loss of a single man by disease. Lord Nelson, in consequence of adopting the same measures, spent three years on the West India station without losing a single life by disease. In the more recent expeditions to the northern regions, the Fury and Hecla were at one time no less than twenty-seven months entirely dependent on their own resources before a case of scurvy appeared, and at the end of twenty-eight months and a half both ships returned home (Septem- ber, 1823) with the loss of only five men, a result which a century ago could not have occurred.
In the year 1805, a French army, which was stationed on the coast in the neighbourhood of Boulogne, marched about four hundred leagues, to join the grand army, before the battle of Auster- litz, which it effected, leaving hardly any sick in the hospitals on the route. In the campaign of 1809, the troops cantoned in the north of Germany marched to Vienna; but by the time they arrived at their place of destination, all the hos- pitals on the road were filled with sick.
In the summer of 1811, a low typhoid fever broke out in the 4th battalion of Royals, then quartered at Stirling Castle. In many instances, violent inflammation of the lungs supervened, and the result of the two diseases was generally fatal. In other apartments of the same barracks, at the same time, in consequence of differ- ent arrangements, no such diseases oc- curred.
In the year 1823—-1824 there was an extraordinary. prevalence of disease in the Penitentiary at Milbank—intractable affections of the bowels, and other in- sidious forms of disease. Few of the prisoners escaped, and a parliamentary inquiry into the causes was ordered. What those causes were was pointed out from the fact, not only that the officers of the prison and about thirty of the prisoners who were less exposed to them enjoyed immunity, but by the rapid convalescence of almost every one, out of six hundred and thirty-five, on being removed to Woolwich and to the Regent’s Park, and supplied with a different diet.
As lately as the middle of the last century, ague was so prevalent in many parts of Britain, that it was looked upon as a kind of necessary evil, from which
28
the inhabitants could not hope to be de- livered.. Generations now sometimes suc- ceed one another in the same soil without a single case occurring, where every in- dividual was sure to suffer from it at some period or other of their lives.
The above is a selection of a few in- stances out of many which might have
been adduced.—D. W.
¢ THE HOLLY. (Llex Aquifolium.)
EXPLANATION or Cur. a,thestamen. 3b, the perfect flower. c, the berry. d, transverse section of the berry, showing the seeds.
NaturRAt ORDER. Aquifoliace.
LINNEAN ARRANGEMENT. ‘Tetrandria. Tetra-
gynia.
Calyx, inferior, one leaf divided into four per- manent segments. Corolla wheel-shaped, of four elliptical segments, much larger than those of the calyx. Filaments awl-shaped, shorter than the corolla. Anthers small, two-lobed. Ger- men roundish. Styles none. Stigmas four, obtuse, permanent. Berry globular, four-celled, one seed in each cell. Seeds oblong, pointed. An evergreen tree, growing in bushy places. Leaves egg-shaped, acute, prickly at the margin. Flowers whitish, blossoming in May; berries scarlet.
The holly that outdares cold winter’s ire. BROWNE.
Though flowers desert us, and roses die,
A wreath we’ll twine beneath winter’s sky ;
A wreath whose glories unfading last
Peraet the snow drift’s chill, and the with’ring
ast.
Then twine we the holly’s unfading leaf,
Nor mourn for flowers,—their reign is brief,—
But, hey! for the holly, with berries so bright ;
Haste ! twine we the holly for Christmas night. L. TWAMLEY.
“‘ Among all the natural greens which enrich our home-borne store, there is none certainly to be compared to our
THE HOLLY.
holly. I have often wondered at our curiosity after foreign plants, and ex- pensive difficulties, to the neglect of the culture of this vulgar,” that is to say, com- mon, ‘¢ but incomparable tree, whether we propagate it for use and defence, or for sight and ornament.” ‘Thus does old Evelyn advocate the claims of this ab- original denizen of our woodlands to notice and cultivation; and well does the cheerful holly merit his enthusiastic eulogy. Ever green, and ever brilliant, now enwreathed with snowy clusters of star-like flowers, now clad with glowing masses of deep scarlet berries, beauteous in every season ‘“‘Tt weathers every changing hour, And welcomes every sky ;”
and thus commends itself in no common degree to the inhabitants of our variable climate. True, it boasts not the towering elegance of the ash, nor the majestic dig- nity of the beech; its trunk displays not the massy strength of the oak, nor its foliage the light airiness of the elm. Yet there is a season, and with us it is one of no short duration, when all these sove-
reigns of the forest scene are compelled to resign their ‘leafy honours” at the stern behest of Nature, and stand “ bar- ren as lances, naked in the blast ;” the remembrance of their summer glories but enhancing, by contrast, the desolate gloom of their present condition. At such a time is it that the holly-bush at- tracts the wandering eye, and cheered by the lustrous greenness of the undergrowth we forget the dread and dreary scene above and around it. And if it thus ap- pear beauteous and inspiriting even in its most diminutive and bushy state, what must be the effect produced by the sight of it in some more open spot, where it stands in the perfection of its growth, an evergreen tree, displaying the verdure of summer, amidst the desolation of the wintry landscape ?
‘ Glossy leaved and shining in the sun,”
it is indeed a glad and cheering object ; and well do the brilliant clusters of scar- let berries, which enwreathe its outer branches, contrast and embellish its cone- like mass of enduring greenness.
Yet prized and precious as the holly proves through the many long and dreary months of winter, it takes no unworthy post amid the brilliant tints and “leafy luxury” of our spring, summer, and autumn days. What can exceed the gay | charms of our hedgerows, as in them we
THE HOLLY.
see displayed in quick succession, or com- bined beauty, the snowy wreaths which mingle with the hawthorn’s tender green, the fragrant tassels of the floating wood- bine, the blushing clusters which festoon the hanging sprays of our wildling rose, the gaudy hues of the young shoots of oak or maple, the fragile bells of the fair and lovely bindweed, the roseate blos- soms of the bramble’s straggling shoots, the tangled tresses of the twisting brion, the luxuriant garlands of the graceful hop, the mantling masses of the starry clematis, or the gay flowers of the woody nightshade? Yet even amid all their varied, their surpassing beauties, often does the sated, glared eye, wearied even by the many charms which are spread before it, rest with relief and pleasure on the dark masses of holly which grow beneath, or interspersed among them; and which, though then half concealed by their more showy and luxuriant neighbours, possess intrinsic charms of which no change or seasons can divest them.
Hardy, though so ornamental, the holly is found indigenous in most parts of Europe, and many other countries in the north temperate zone; yet where does it attain to greater perfection, or is it found more generally, than in England and Scotland? In the latter country it was, and is still, in many places, particularly abundant. Sir T. D. Lauder mentions it as ‘‘ growing in great abundance on the banks of the river Findhorn, where the trees rise to a very great size. So plen- tiful were they in the forest of Tarnawa, on its left bank, that for many years the castle of Tarnawa was supplied with no other fuel than billets of holly; and yet they are still so numerous, that in going through the woods now, no one would suppose that such destruction has been committed.”
That the holly was equally abundant and widely diffused in England, is fully proved by the many places evidently de- riving names from it; also by its univer- sal prevalence in the remains of all our old aboriginal forests. Some of the finest now standing are in Needwood Forest, in Staffordshire, and in the New Forest.
The circumference of the stem and branches of the holly is small in propor- tion to that of many other trees: this may, in some degree, be accounted for by the peculiar slowness of its growth, and the consequent hardness of the tim- ber, the annual. deposits of woody layers being remarkably small and compact.
29
The bark is smooth, and of a greyish tinge : the lower branclies spread horizon- tally, and when the tree is uninjured by cattle, etc., diverge regularly on each side of the trunk, while the upper and the younger shoots assume a more elevated direction, so as to give the tree a cone- like appearance. ‘The branches,” to quote the minute description of Hunter, “fare garnished with oblong oval leaves about three inches long, and one and a half broad; of a lucid green on their upper surface, but pale on their under, having a strong midrib; the edges are in- dented and waved, with sharp thorns ter- minating each of the points, so that some of the thorns are raised upward, and others bent downward ; these being very stiff, cannot be handled without pain. The leaves are placed alternate on every side of the branches, and from the base of their footstalks the flowers come out in clusters; standing on very short foot- stalks, each of these contain five, six, or more flowers.” This curious formation of the prickly-bordered leaves is, we be- lieve, peculiar to the varieties of this tree, and adds another to the countless instances around us, of the diversity and wise arrangement visible in all the works of Jehovah. By their instrumentality, the foliage, else so exposed to the attacks of cattle, from its low habit of growth, particularly to those of the sheep, which are especially fond of it, is secured, un- touched, to minister to the pleasure of man, the delegated ‘‘ great master of all ;” and the tree is left uninjured to yield shelter and defence. Such, at least, would appear to be the design of the thorny leaves, as it has been correctly remarked, that where the tree is allowed to assume its natural form, the leaves on the lower branches alone are fur- nished with these prickles, whilst those on the upper boughs are, for the most part, destitute of them. And well has our laureate bard moralized on this curious, though little regarded fact in the all- wise economy of nature.
O reader! hast thou ever stood to see The holly tree?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives Its glossy leaves,
Ordered by an intelligence so wise,
As might confound the atheist’s sophistries.
Below a circling fence its leaves are seen, Wrinkled and keen;
No grazing cattle, through their prickly round, Can reach to wound ;
But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm’d the pointless leaves appear,
30
I love to view these things with curious eyes, And moralize; And in this wisdom of the holly tree Can emblems see, Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme, One which may profit in the after time.
Thus, though abroad perchance I might appear, Harsh and austere,
To those who on my leisure would intrude, Reserved and rude,
Gentle at home among my friends I’d be,
Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.
And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the holly tree.
And as when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The holly leaves a sober hue display Less bright than they; But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the holly tree?
So serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng, So would I seem among the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be, As the green winter of the holly tree. SourHEY.
Gilpin speaks of the holly rather as a bush or shrub, than a tree, though he ad- mits it to be “ a plant of singular beauty.” The situation in which it is most naturally found, is as undergrowth in forests of oak, elm, ash,’ and pine; and in such scenes, being overtopped and shaded by its larger compeers, it certainly rather as- sumes the character of one of “ those humble plants, which filling up the in- terstices, mass and connect the whole.” Yet, as we have observed, even in such spots, where circumstances have favoured its growth, many handsome specimens are found, and when allowed full scope in plantations, etc., it has attained no insig- nificant size. Pliny mentions a holly tree in Tusculum, the trunk of which mea- sured thirty-five feet in circumference, and ‘‘which sent out ten branches of such magnitude, that each might pass for a tree.” The finest holly in England is supposed to be one at Claremont, which is eighty feet high: the diameter of the trunk two feet two inches, and of the head twenty-five feet. Many specimens are recorded, in various parts, from forty to fifty feet high.
Yet handsome as the holly may be as a tree, it is especially valuable as an hedge-row plant. For this purpose it is most generally cultivated and peculiarly adapted, whether we regard its great durability, the impenetrable nature of its foliage, the facility with which it bears
THE HOLLY.
clipping, and the evergreen character of its tough and polished leaves, unchanged by seasons or blasts, and almost imper- vious to the insect tribe. In fact, whe- ther for defence, seclrity, duration, or beauty, a well-grown holly-hedge is uni- versally admitted to be superior to any other fence.
A hedge of holly, thieves that would invade,
Repulses like a growing palisade ;
Whose numerous leaves such orient green invest,
As in deep winter do the spring arrest. CoLUMELLA.
Nor is utility its sole recommendation. Evelyn speaks with enthusiasm of a hedge in his own garden at Sayes Court. “Ts there under heaven a more glorious and refreshing object of the kind than an impregnable hedge of about four hundred feet in length, nine feet in height, and five in diameter, which I can show in my now ruined garden—thanks to the czar of Muscovy*—at any time of the year, glittering with its armed and var- nished leaves? The taller standards, at orderly distance, blushing with their natural coral. It mocks the rudest as- saults of the weather, beasts, or hedge-. breakers, and Lé illum nemo me impunit lacessit.”” Of this hedge, the pride ofits wor- thy master, no trace now remains, though others, scarcely inferior to it, yet remain. Of these, those at Tyningham, near Dun- bar, are probably the finest. These were planted in the beginning of the last cen- tury, and extend for two thousand nine hundred and fifty-two yards, varying from ten to twenty-five feet in height, and from nine to thirteen feet wide at the base; interspersed with single trees, from twenty to fifty feet high.
There are also one thousand one hun- dred and twenty feet of a similar hedge at Collinton, varying from fifteen to- twenty-eight feet high. At that period hedges were very generally adopted, either as boundaries, or divisions in gar- dens; and the holly, from the ease with which it bears clipping, would harmonize well with the grotesque, or regular style then so fashionable in gardening. To such vegetable architecture Evelyn al- ludes, when he speaks of having seen
* Peter the Great, during his residence in Eng- land for the purpose of acquiring information in ship-building, navigation, etc., with a view to the benefit of his people, spent much time at Deptford. Whilst there he occupied Sayes Court, Evelyn’s favourite residence. In the grounds of this man- sion was a handsome and valuable holly hedge, and through this, it is said, the Russian sovereign every morning amused and exercised himself by trundling a wheelbarrow!
- cut down for timber,
THE HOLLY.
“hedges, or if you will, stout walls of holly, twenty feet in height, kept up- right; and the gilded sort budded low, and in two or three places, one above an- other, shorn and fashioned into columns and pilasters, architecturally shaped, and at due distance; than which nothing can
‘possibly be more pleasant, the berry.
adorning the intercolumniations with scarlet festoons and encarpa.”’
The slow growth of the holly has been urged, by many, as more than counter- balancing its advantages as a suitable plant for hedgerows, yet the experience of many successful planters disproves the correctness of this general assertion. Evelyn tells us how he raised hedges, four feet high, in four years, and it would appear that, under a proper method of culture, holly fences may be raised in as short a time as those of hawthorn, privet, etc., which, in so many particulars, are vastly inferior; and “if,” to quote again the language of our sylvan oracle, ‘we stay seven years for a tolerable quick, it is worth staying thrice seven for this, which has no competitor.”
A rich and deep loam is the soil, and a moist and sheltered, though not over- shaded place, the situation in which the holly thrives best; yet it has this further recommendation, that there are but few spots in which it will not grow: even be- neath the shade and drip of other trees, so uncongenial to almost every other plant, it is uninjured, and in this respect it is unequalled except by the box. The Sayes Court hedge is mentioned as plant- ed on a burning gravel, exposed to- the meridian sun; and Gilpin refers to the hollies growing at Dungeness “ among the pebbles on the beach.”
The timber of the holly is hard, white, finely grained, susceptible of a very high
Olish, and easily stained with different colours; hence it is peculiarly suited for inlaying, veneering, and other ornamental cabinet works. It is, however; scarce, and rarely to be obtained in any quantity, large trees being comparatively rare, or too much prized by their owners to be The principal pur- poses to which it is at present applied, is as a substitute for ebony in the handles of metal tea-pots, in turnery-ware, and for inlaying ornamental cabinet-work. In former days, it was often substituted for the lime wood in carving ; hence Spenser
designates it
or the carver Holme.” And in the present day it is considered to
31
rank next after box and pear woods, for wood engravings. Of shoots and smaller branches, which are often cut in trim- ming hedges, the large and straight ones are used as whip-handles or walking- sticks, while the younger ones, and even the leaves, are given as fodder to cattle. The leaves, when dried and powdered, or boiled, are taken for some internal com- plaints; and a decoction of the bark is said to calm and relieve a cough. The berries are also used in medicine, though poisonous in their nature, at least to man, though their coral clusters form the prin- cipal winter store of many of our singing birds, and especially of the thrush. Yet from this tree, which thus conduces to the sustenance of the feathered race, is also derived one of their most destructive foes. The clammy substance known as bird- lime, used by gardeners to attract birds, insects, etc., and too often perverted to more wanton purposes, is prepared from an infusion of holly bark.
* Alas, in vain with warmth and food,
You cheer the songsters of the wood! The barbarous boy, from you, prepares On treacherous twigs his viscous snares; Yes, the poor birds you nursed, shall find Destruction in your rifted rind.”
Many varieties and sub-varieties have been raised by accident or cultivation from the holly. One of the earliest cul- tivators, Wrench, of Fulham, lived in the time of Charles 11, and at that period these varieties were much in demand for varying the “trim parterre.” Miller mentions thirty-one, and Loudon enumer- ates twenty-three distinct varieties, be-
sides forty or fifty sub-varieties in the
Hackney arboretum. Many of these are curious and beautiful, and it is especially observed of the variegation species of holly, that, unlike those of most other trees and shrubs, they present a healthy and uniform appearance. ‘They are usually propagated by budding or graft- ing. The holly being so universally dif- fused over our continent, was well known to the ancient Greeks and Romans. By the former it was designated dgria, namely wild, or growing in the fields.
‘Hence the Romans formed Agrifolium,
though it was more commonly designated Aquifolium, in allusion to the prickly leaf, (Acutum, sharp, folium, leaf.) This name was retained by Linnzeus, who pre- fixed to it that of Zlex, probably in allu- sion to its evergreen character. ‘The more popular name, holly, is evidently a corruption of the word holy, and applied in consequence of being for many ages,
32
and in most European countries, associated with the sacred festival of Christmas. In Turner’s Herbal, published 1551, it is designated as “holy tree,” and it is also spelled thus in a curious old ballad yet extant, bearing date, during the reign of Henry vi., in which it is contrasted with the ivy. The German, Danish, and Swedish names, Christdorn, Christorn, and Christtorn, doubtless have the same origin.
The custom of decorating churches and dwelling-houses with evergreens, during the season of Christmas, is of no common antiquity, though scarcely to be derived from the Jewish church, as some have supposed, from passages in Isaiah xli. and lx. and Nehemiah viii. It would rather appear to have originated with the early Roman church, and to have been adopted by them, in consequence of a similar practice in the Saturnalian festivities, which occurred about the same period of the year. In corroboration of this idea, Bourne cites an edict of the second coun- cil of Bracara, a.p. 568, forbidding Chris- tians ‘‘to deck their houses with bay leaves and green boughs at the same time with the Pagans,” the Saturnalia commencing about a week earlier. During that sea- son the ancient Romans were accus- tomed to send boughs of hollies, with the gifts presented by them, to their friends ; and hence it was regarded by them as the emblem of peace and goodwill.
The nativity of our Saviour, in fact, oc- curred at a much earlier period of the year; but though the fact is too much overlooked, we have indisputable proof that it was the practice in the early church, to assimilate their festivals, etc., as closely as possible to those of the Pagans. They would, therefore, and with some show of reason, assign the celebration of an event, the source of joy and gladness alike to high and low, bond and free, master and servant, to a period at which, by common consent, those too often opposing interests were for a time blended, and mirth and rejoicing univer- sally prevailed, the Saturnalian orgies, for the season, placing all ranks upon one common footing. How superior the joy which the true Christian derives from the birth of Christ to all worldly pleasures ! Beside the manger in the Bethlehem stable, and in celebrating, as the poet (W. Scott) expresses it,
The blessed night,
Which to the cottage and the crown Brought tidings of salvation down,
THE HOLLY,
the “rich and the poor meet together,”’ as alike partaking, by faith, of the ‘‘ com- mon salvation,” purchased and bestowed by Him who, “ though he was rich, for our sakes became poor, thawave, through his poverty, might be rich.”
Stowe, in his“ Surveye of London,” tells us, that “ against the feast of Christmas, every man’s house, as also their parish churches, were decked with holme, ivy, bayes, and whatsoever the season of the year afforded to be greene; the conduits and standards in the street were likewise garnished.” And though many of the observances and customs, wherewith the rude yet simple piety of our ancestors celebrated their Christmas season, haye fallen into disuse,—and in some cases, doubtless, the festival is more honoured in their omission than their performance, —though the carol and wassail song be silenced; the boar’s head and the yule log are scarcely known but by tradition, and the mummings and the _ indis- criminating feast be confined to the most secluded of our districts, yet still the holly, and its kindred tribe of evergreens, retain their places, and discharge their wonted task in decorating the interior of our houses and churches.
Each house is swept the day before,
And windows stuck with evergreens, The snow is besom’d from the door,
And comfort crowns the cottage scenes ; Gilt holly, with its thorny pricks,
And yew and box with berries small, These deck the unused candlesticks,
And pictures hanging by the wall.
CLARE.
And fitly do the unwithering verdure and brilliant clusters of the holly, which speaks of hope and brightness, amidst the deep gloom of winter’s saddest hours, the hedge- row borderer, and the ornament of the plantation, accessible to and valued alike by the peer and the peasant, adorn our walls and canopy our roofs to give honour to the anniversary of the celebration of the most important event earth ever knew: an event foretold by prophets, priests, and kings, waited for as the consolation of Israel, heralded by signs and wonders, an- nounced by angelic messengers, and hymned by the angelic choir, “ praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill to- ward men.”
Unfading in its glory, and impregnable to the blast, the holly enlivens our wintry walks, and gives brightness and gaiety to the scene, when a mantle of fleecy snow overspreads the ground, and the rustling
OLD HUMPHREY ON UNPROMISING SCENES.
gale howls cheerless amid the naked branches of its rifled compeers. And at this dreary period of the year, when ex- ternal scenes and mental impressions would alike depress the heart, we are fitly called on to commemorate the festivity with which early association has iden- ‘tified the holly. Gladly does the Chris- tian obey the summons to contemplate in the manger of Bethlehem, “wrapped in swaddling clothes,” the wondrous babe, whom he knows to be the almighty Ruler of earth and heaven, the only-begotten Son of God, given “for us men and for our salvation,’ the messenger of mercy to him, the ground of his hope, and the source of his peace, at a season when the revolution of time has placed him in circumstances of solemn and peculiar in- terest. He stands, as it were, on the confines of an old and a new period of time; he reviews the shortcomings of the past with sorrow and repentance, and an- ticipates the ‘untried future,” with a natural anxiety and fear. Bygone fail- ures and shortcomings, as contrasted with bygone mercies and opportunities, arise with uncontrollable power to depress the conscience, and the gloom of uncertainty overspreads the path that lies before him. How could he respond to the glad saluta- tion of the season, had not his spirits been cheered, and his faith invigorated in the contemplation of Immanuel the Sa- viour given to sinful men? Yet thus, even his fearful heart is made strong; and having experienced the blessings of Christmas, he enters on the new year with humble, yet assured peace and hope. He fears not the “due reward” of sin, for though he acknowledges himself as “‘the chief of sinners,” he believes the “faithful saying, worthy of all accepta- tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” He goes forward in the journey of life, though not know- ing what may befall him, assured that he shall be guided by the counsel, and upheld by the power of him who “spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all,” and will, therefore, ‘‘ with him also freely give us all things” that are needful for us. And he enters with simple, though sincere confidence on a way by which he has not “passed heretofore,”’ knowing that the Lord is and ever will be with him, and is pledged by his sure word of promise, to “lead him forth by a right way,” for the sake of Him whois the way, the truth, and the life; and who is even now preparing
33
for him a mansion in the skies, But in- asmuch as he who receives this Saviour as his hope and reconciliation, a Priest to atone, and a Prophet to instruct, must also, with willing obedience, hail Him as a Sovereign to rule over his every act, and thought, and word ; so while the Christian receives from the holly tree asthe emblem of his Redeemer’s birth, comfort and en- couragement, he is also willing to derive from this mute page in the book of crea~ tion some lesson of reproof or instruction in righteousness. And powerful, indeed, is the monition it thus affords him in the hour of care and doubt; and could he but more and more realize and imbibe it, how blessed, how elevating would be the re- sult ! .
With berry red, and leaf ne’er sere,
The holly greets the fading year;
A friend, when summer friends do flee,
‘* A brother for adversity.”
But not to fond and faithful breast
Alone, does it sweet thoughts suggest; Oh, no! To thee whom cares perplex, Whom troubles fright, whom crosses vex, To thee it speaks in loftier tone,
And breathes a moral all its own.
Come, then, and from the holly tree, Learn what thou art, and what may’st be, Mark how upon each earthward bough, Edged with sharp thorns the leaves do grow ; While those the higher stems that grace, Bear of the prickly curse no trace;
As if to teach thee it designed,
With earth we leave the thorn behind,
Say, thou upon whose brow is set Care’s thorn-entwisted coronet, Oh, would’st thou tear it thence, arise And seek communion with the skies; The nearer heaven thou soar’st, the Jess Shall that keen wreath thy temples pres3; If once before thy raptured view, Faith open heaven, how faint and few Will seem all earthly griefs and cares, Until, at last, each disappears, Like thorns from off the leaves which grow Upon the holly’s topmost bough.
L, TWAMLEY.
|
OLD HUMPHREY ON UNPROMISING SCENES.
Tuovan nature, toa lover of nature, is ever fair to look upon, yet are there moods of mind when the heart yearns with more than common desire for moun- tains and moors, green fields and woods and waters. It was when in a mood of this kind that I found myself, the other day, in a spot which had very few at- tractions.
Had the prospect around me been a lovely one, which was far from the case, the dull, thick, heavy atmosphere would have prevented me from revelling in its beauties, I stood, as it were, cooped up
D
34
between two low banks of earth, each of them having a ditch on the far side, and a flat field beyond; one of these ditches was dry. Thus circumstanced, being weary, I sat me down on the brow of one of the banks, and having no distant object interesting to gaze on, I seemed of ne- cessity constrained to look down into the dry ditch for a subject of speculation. You will readily admit that this presented me with only an unpromising scene.
There is nothing, however, like an inclination to turn ‘all occurrences to the best advantage.” An enterprizing spirit and a grateful heart will seize upon some favourable point in the most forbid- ding landscape, and gild the gloomiest prospect under heaven. I soon dis- covered an abundant source of reflection in the following objects that lay scattered in the dry ditch before me, within the space of a few yards: an old hat, a broken flower pot, the bow! of a tobacco pipe half full of tobacco, an oyster shell, a dead cat, a piece of a letter on which was plainly written the word “ Farewell !” a Dutch tile, a corroded tin kettle, the neck of a wine bottle, and a large bone. You shall have, as correctly as I can give them, my musings on the curious cata- logue I have laid before you.
“Tt would not be an easy thing to trace that well-worn, crownless, and almost brimless old hat to its original owner ; nor should I be able to make out without much trouble whether it was sold by Christie, or bought at a slop shop in Leadenhall-street, Aldgate, or Hounds- ditch; but as it matters not two pins who was the buyer or who was the seller of it, I am content toleave the point unascertained. The history of a hat may be soon given from the moment it has passed through the necessary battening, hardening, work- ing, blocking, napping, dyeing, stiffening, finishing, lining, and binding, and been exposed for sale in the window, till it lies, like the useless remnant there in the ditch, too tattered to defend, and too worthless to cover the brow of the meanest mendicant. It is for a time worn with pride and preserved with care, and not discarded, perhaps, till after its first renovation. It then has a second proprietor, loses grade, and passes rapidly on itsdownward career. The old clothes- man, the coachman, cabman, and _ pot- boy, in their turns, become its possessors, till worn, drenched, crushed, and cuffed out of its propriety, it becomes at last
OLD HUMPHREY ON UNPROMISING SCENES.
the football of the idler and the truant, and is kicked into the muddy ditch, the inglorious receptacle of all that is value- less and vile.
“Tt may be that the old worn-out beaver there in its better dayg adorned a banker’s brows, and in its decline covered the uncombed locks of the bricklayer and the beggar. Now, if it could tell only one half of the worldly schemes and vain desires which dwelt in the heads of its several owners, a book might be written of it, though, perhaps, not of the most edifying character. There it lies, and there it is likely to lie, till its separated atoms are scattered abroad as manure to fertilize the ground.
“The broken flower pot brings before me some pleasant pictures. It may have contained mignionette; and the setting of the seed, the watching, the watering, and the springing up of the sweet-scent- ed plant, may all have afforded pleasure to one who had no other garden. Or it may have held a rose tree, a geranium, or a myrtle, the gift of a friend; and I can imagine the bright eyes of the young, and the furrowed brows of the old, bend- ing over it with interest. Oh, what an amount of quiet joy and peaceful delight has the Giver of all good conferred upon the human race in the green leaves of plants and the painted petals of flowers !
“The tobacco-pipe bowl, half full of tobacco, at once sets the smoker before me. I see his unwashed face and un- combed hair, his dirty and ragged attire, and his hat on his head, set on one side. I hear, too, his immoral jest and infidel laugh, as he pursues his sabbath-breaking course, with an ugly cur yelping before him. And now, am [ not ashamed to have drawn such a picture as this? How do I know but the pipe may have be- longed to some honest and diligent work- man in the habit of indulging himself in a few whiffs at the close of his labour? How do I know but that, while the curl- ing fume ascended towards heaven, his thoughts may have ascended too, in grati- tude and praise to the Father of mer- cies, for the ease and tranquillity he enjoyed? Shame! shame! for my want of that charity which ‘hopeth all things,’ and which should have influenced me even in drawing the sketch of an un- . known smoker.
“T might. content myself, when looking on the discarded oyster shell, in alluding to the too common practice among us of
|
.
OLD HUMPHREY ON UNPROMISING SCENES. 35
sticking close to those who. have where- with to serve us, and of flinging them away, or deserting them, when they no longer answer our purpose; and, indeed, though the reflection may be, as the adage has it, ‘as old fashioned as Clent Hills,’ I hardly know one of the kind on which we could muse more profitably. Policy may say, ‘Where is the use of having aught to do with those who can be of no use to us?’ but Christian prin- ciple should bind us together with the band of brotherhood to all mankind, to the rich and the strong, but especially to the poor and the helpless, The history of that oyster shell faithfully related would not be without its interest, including as it should do all the scenes in which it has acted a part, from the season when it was first wrenched away from its dwelling- place on the ocean-rock, to the moment
when, flung into the air by the holiday-
loving urchin, it was borne by the winds to its present place of degradation.
“The dead cat will hardly bear a re- flection; for the ruffled fur, the project- ing eye and lacerated limb, tell too plainly a tale of cruelty. A recent worry has taken place, and tabby, whose silky skin has so often been stroked with tenderness by the soft hand of her kind- hearted mistress, has at last, I fear, been set upon by cruel tormentors, and torn and mangled by their infuriated dogs. It would go hard with many if they were treated as they treat the brute creation!
‘What a volume is comprised in that scrap of a note or letter, bearing the word ‘Farewell!’ The word is written far from freely, but the writer may have been an indifferent scribe, or have sat down under circumstances of haste or emotion. The word may have been written by a parent to a child, or by a son or daughter to a parent; by some soldier, about to pack up his knapsack for the march; or by some sailor, whose ship was soon to spread her sails for a foreign shore. It may have been written with the lightheartedness of one bidding adieu for a day,
Farewell! come sunshine, wind, or rain, To-morrow we shall meet again !
Or it may have been flung on the paper by the hurried hand and agitated energy of one bidding farewell till ‘this mortal shall have put on immortality.’
Farewell, then! Farewell, then! though bitter it
be _ IT will drink of the cup, for thou gavest it me ;
| but exhausted with weakness. | is he that considereth the poor ; the Lord
And I know that thou willingly wouldst not impart
A pang or a sorrow to trouble my heart.
Farewell, though the word be denouncing a doom! ;
Farewell, though it sound as a voice from the tomb!
Till the crash of creation shall sever the spell,
Farewell! If for ever—for ever, Farewell!
“The Dutch tile, broken asit is largely at three of its corners, is still sufficiently entire to tell me that the blue picture on its surface is intended to represent the beheading of the giant Goliath. David is not exactly the fine stripling that I have always supposed he must have been, neither does Goliath quite come up to my beau ideal of a Philistine giant; but we ought not to expect perfection in a paint- ed Dutch tile more than in other things. I dare say it has had, in its time, many admirers, nor will I, in its present low estate, visit it with my reproach. Before now I have been as much interested in the uncouth scriptural figures on a set of Dutch tiles, as if they had been drawn by Raffaelle and coloured by ‘Titian.
‘‘ How many a mess of pottage has been boiled in that old tin kettle I can- not say; but it would by no means be a hazardous speculation to conclude that the utensil will never boil another. The handle is gone, its corroded sides are dented in, and that capacious hole at the bottom would puzzle a clever tinman to mend. But tin kettles were not in- tended to last for ever, and the one be- fore me seems to have done its duty. Let us, then, learn a lesson from it, and do ours, and so long as we are fit for service render ourselves useful to mankind.
“Were I a toper, the neck of the wine bottle might furnish me with a subject on which to descant for an hour; and even as it is, some turbulent festive scenes are rising before my fancy. However, I can take my choice, and either set the bottle that belonged to the glassy fragment on the sideboard of the intemperate, while the walls are ringing with the song of the drunkard; or place it, filled with good wine, by a patient in the sick chamber, languishing with disease, and pain, and poverty, to whom it has been sent by way of charity. I have now a scene like this latter one fresh in my remembrance, wherein
A good man broke his own repose,
To mitigate another’s woes, carrying with him a bottle of port wine to a poor afflicted neighbour, who was all ‘* Blessed
86
will deliver him in time of trouble,” Psa. xii.
“‘ And now I come to the large bone there, which, belonging, as no doubt it did, to some animal of the inferior crea- tion, may yet well serve to remind me of my own mortality. It is a hard thing, while life is lustily beating in our hearts, and the warm blood healthfully rushing through our veins, to realize, even in imagination, that our frames will, in- deed, be unstrung; our bones really dis- jointed, mingling with the earth that we now tread upon; and yet the time is hastening on when this must be the case. Oh for a hopeful looking forward to the end of our pilgrimage, a cheerful con- viction that through mercy we shall be permitted to finish our course with joy, and find the end thereof eternal life. ‘If,’ says a writer, ‘only one hour of joy be permitted me in time, let it be that which is nearest to eternity.’
““ We do well to mingle with the so- lemnities of death the brighter prospect of eternal life, and to regard our afflic- tions as the means by which God conveys to us our mercies.
Sorrow, and tears, and woe are meant To win the soul from sin and pain; And death is oft the herald, sent
To bid us seek immortal gain.”
You perceive that Old Humphrey has found enough to muse upon, even in the unpromising scene already described, and that he has turned to some advantage the old hat, the broken flower pot, the to- bacco pipe bowl, the oyster shell, the dead cat, the piece of a letter, the Dutch tile, the tin kettle, the neck of the wine- bottle, and the large bone! His observa- tions may call forth yours; at all events, there is a moral in his musings; it is this, That you should never be cast down by the most hopeless case; but, on the con- trary, make the best of the most un- promising scene.
Oo THE SECRET CURSE.
Eartu is not the world of retribution. In general, “no man knoweth either love or hatred by all that is before him,”’ Eccles. ix. 1. The character and con- dition of men cannot be inferred from their circumstances and the dispensations of Providence towards them. No kind, degree, variety, or continuance of out- ward afflictions can be mentioned, from which a good man is certainly exempted; or of worldly prosperity which wicked men have not enjoyed. Eccles, vii. 15.
THE SECRET CURSE.
On the other hand, prosperity is by no means the uniform lot of the wicked, nor adversity of the righteous.
But though the common bounties of Providence descend alike on all, (for ‘He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth ram on the just and the unjust,” Matt. v. 45; and though one event happeneth alike to all, Eccles. ii. 14,) there is a difference in the.design and application of the dispensation. The afiliction may be sent in love, as the rod or medicine is ad- ministered to the child; the prosperity may be bestowed, as the rich pasture is afforded to the bullock to fatten it for slaughter. And there is generally, more or Jess, an inward consciousness that this is the case; a consciousness which, while it embitters all the enjoyments of the sinner, enables the saint of God to say, even under the most severe and compli- cated trials,
‘* Although my cup seems fill’d with gall,
“ There ’s something secret sweetens all.”
This testimony is not always confined to a man’s own conscience. It is some- times rendered strikingly visible to those around, that a blessing rests upon the af- flicted saint and a curse upon the pros- perous sinner. A course of disobedience to the Divine commands is sometimes signally made to punish itself; and a course of conscientious obedience is sometimes made to result in unlooked- for prosperity. The fact is universal, that ‘the curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked, but he blesseth the habitation of the just,’”’ Prov. ili. 33; and it. is sometimes strikingly displayed, as if to keep alive the remembrance that a day of universal retribution is coming, and to establish the conviction that “verily there is a reward for the righteous: verily he is a God that judg- eth in the earth,’ Psa, lviii. 11.
It is nearly half a century since the following facts occurred; but the im- pression they left has not yet worn out. There are yet living those who can testily not only to the fidelity of the narration, but to the effects produced, especially in promoting the observance of the Sabbath where it was before disregarded. Many in that neighbourhood were led to “hear, and fear, and do no more presump- tuously,”’ Deut. xvii. 13.
In arising manufacturing district, re- sided Mr. R , the proprietor of one of the most extensive and prosperous concerns in the place. He had com-
THE SECRET CURSE.
menced his career with an ample capital, by means of which he was enabled to avail himself of every advantage present- ed, either by the improvements of science or the conjunction of circumstances. His premises and buildings, for extent and completeness, far excelled any others in the neighbourhood. He had in his em- ploy a much greater number of the most able and skilful workmen than any other of his competitors could command. He had access to the best markets, both for obtaining his materials and disposing of his merchandize. His returns were abundant, a full tide of prosperity con- tinually flowed in upon him, and he had more than heart could wish. Nor did he obtain his wealth by grinding the faces of the poor, or by taking mean advantages of his mercantile connexions; he was universally respected as a kind and liberal master, and renowned for upright- ness and honour in all his transactions. He was one of those who cause it to be said of modern Britain, as it was of an- cient Tyre, ‘‘ Her merchants are princes, her traffickers are the honourable of the earth.”
Not far from the extensive works and splendid mansion of Mr. R , lived R. F , an honest, industrious work- man, who, in his humble sphere, ex- perienced a somewhat similar degree of prosperity. R. F was the son of decent and pious parents, who gave him the best education in their power, which, however, probably extended little further than the rudiments of reading and writing; his reading being principally confined to the Bible and a few standard religious books. He was trained ‘‘in the nurture and admonition of the Lord,” and was early distinguished by tenderness of con- science. Whatever might be the views of his parents as to the further education of their children, and as to placing them out in life, they were all frustrated by the death of the father, who left a numerous and unprovided young family to the charge of a widowed mother. R. F was but a boy; he, however, felt, not only the necessity of relinquishing the expectation of receiving any further as- sistance from his mother, but also the obligation devolving upon him to sup- port himself, and to assist her in provid- ing for the younger members of the family. He engaged himself to a master manufacturer; soon became one of his best workmen, and continued in his em- ploy several years, During this time,
37
as his mother’s cares were gradually lightened by each of her children be- coming successively able to do something for its own support, he saved sufficient money to purchase a spinning jenny. Shortly after this, he married a young woman, who, like himself, was industri- ous, prudent, and careful, as well as pious. She assisted him in his work, and they prospered exceedingly.
R. F—— had established such a cha- racter for integrity and skill, that several of the principal manufacturers were de- sirous of engaging his services, and made him liberal offers. Among the rest, his wealthy neighbour Mr, R repeatedly applied to him with inducements of every kind, but in vain. Being pressed to as- sign his reasons for declining proposals so advantageous, and invited to make proposals of his own, he respectfully but firmly declared that if the advantages offered were ten times greater, he dared not engage himself with an employer who disregarded the sabbath; and that he preferred his own little independent con- cern, chiefly as it left him at liberty to make arrangements congenial with his own principles and preferences in that respect.
In the course of a few years, R. F was enabled to purchase several more machines, and hire two large rooms, in which he employed a number of work- people. His increasing prosperity, hap- pily, did not render him forgetful of God. He “honoured the Lord with his sub- stance, and with the first fruits of all his increase.” Time was, when, by an effort of self-denial, he raised a few pence for the cause of religion; now he was one of its most munificent supporters. During the whole of his career, a lovely and blameless consistency marked his general conduct. He was peculiarly distinguished by a conscientious regard to the sabbath. When he and his wife worked by them- selves, they uniformly laid aside their secular employment at an early hour on Saturday, that they might quietly pre- pare for the rest of the holy sabbath of the Lord their God; and when they had others—many others—in their employ- ment, they grudged not to extend the same privilege to them.
The closing years of the last, and the commencement of the present centuries, witnessed rapid advances in machinery, and the introduction of steam power, as applied to the purposes of manufacture. By those who could promptly avail them-
38
selves of these advantages, property was accumulated with astonishing rapidity. It was so by both the individuals here referred to, though in a ratio propor- tioned to their different beginnings. Mr. R ’s buildings and works were en- tirely his own. R, F continued to rent those which he employed; but in- stead of two rooms, as heretofore, he oc- cupied one wing of a spacious and lofty building, erected by an enterprising man of property, for the employment of his capital. It is probable that R. F—— sometimes anticipated purchasing or building a mill of his own; though he appears to have been distinguished rather by a contented, liberal, and prudent use of present circumstances, than by schemes for the future. He did not accumulate that he might, at some future period, dis- perse and enjoy; a too common delusion with men when riches begin to increase : but in dispersing he accumulated, as the bread was multiplied in distributing, and the oil in pourmg out, John vi. 11; 2 Kings iv.3—6. The Lord prospered him greatly, like as he blessed the house of Obed-edom of old for the ark’s sake, 2 Sam. vi. 11.
Whether or not R. F ing prosperity, had anticipated becoming an extensive proprietor, in course of time
, in his grow-
that event took place, and under circum-.
stances not a little remarkable.
Few people are so ignorant or incon- siderate as not to know, that lighting the fire of a powerful steam engine is no trifling matter, either in point of labour or expense; and that, consequently, it is a matter of economy, when it is lighted, to keep it burning as long as may be; and while burning, to keep it constantly in use, by employing a succession of workpeople, to carry on the necessary manual operations, day and night. seasons of prosperity, when every work- ing hour is bringing a sure and certain profit to the master, there is a temptation —astrong temptation—to men “ making haste to be rich,” to oppress their work- people, by requiring of them excessive labour, which, however well paid for, is injurious; and also to rob God of his time, by infringing on the sabbath.
The workpeople of R. F—— were always dismissed at an earlier hour on Saturday evenings, and the fires extin- guished. ‘Those whose business it was to attend to the engines, fires, boilers, etc., commenced their operations at a very
In.
THE SECRET CURSE,
all ready for the others to begin their work after breakfast time; thatis, at half- past eight, instead of six. Thus, between Saturday evening and Monday morning, a sacrifice was made of four hours’ labour of all the men, women, and children em- ployed in the concern. It wassacrifice to the conscientious observance of the sabbath.
Matters were very differently conduct- ed at the great factory hard by. There, the works were kept going as late as pos- sible on Saturday night, commenced as early as possible on Monday morning ; and the sabbath was regularly employed in cleansing and repairing the works. To what extent this was carried on was not generally known, for a degree of secrecy was observed; but it was well understood that workpeople who cared much about the observance of the sabbath, had no chance of being employed by Mr. R
One sabbath day, an alarm of fire was heard, and the extensive buildings of Mr. R—— were found to be in flames. The fire raged with uncontrollable fury, and in the course of a few hours nothing remained but the bare walls. The pro- perty consumed was estimated at one hundred thousand pounds; but the pro- prietor congratulated himself on its being insured. The claim on the fire office was, however, demurred until the occasion of the fire could be investigated. The matter was brought to trial, when it ap- peared that the fire had originated in the engine house, a part of the building from which, on account. of the oil, tow, and other combustible materials necessarily employed, fire is always most carefully excluded. A lighted candle is no more permitted there, than nailed shoes in a powder mill. But it was proved that, by order of the proprietor, the engineer and several other persons were at work in that room, repairing the engines by arti- ficial light, the light of day being care- fully excluded, for the sake of concealing the proceedings : there was also a cauld- ron of melted lead for soldering. To some unknown accident arising from one or other of these circumstances, the fire was attributed; and, as it was at variance with the insurance policy for fire or candle, under any circumstances, to be admitted into the engine house, the claims of redress from the insurance office were set aside.
Though seriously impoverished and deeply mortified, yet not altogether
early hour on Monday morning, and had | ruined, Mr. R—— might have made
‘
THE SECRET CURSE,
an effort to retrieve himself; and, had this calamity produced a salutary effect on his heart, he might have commenced a new career under the blessing, instead of the curse of Heaven. But when once a man casts off the fear of God, how little he knows to what degrees of guilt and in- fatuation he may proceed!
The once honourable man, in _ his eagerness to improve the full tide of prosperity with which he was favoured, forgot who it was that gave him power to get wealth, Deut. viii. 18, and robbed God, by profaning his sabbaths, Mal. iti. 8. Next, he attempted to rob a public institution by concealing the act by which he had forfeited his claim upon its funds. And he stopped not there, but made another effort to fix his loss upon the county in which he lived, by robbing an innocent man of his character and his life. He charged the engineer with incendiarism, in conse- quence of which he was apprehended, and in due course brought to trial. The evidence appeared to go very much against him, and Mr. R——- began to exult in his anticipated triumph; but the whole was overturned, and the poor man’s innocence established, by incontro- vertible proof that the witnesses, includ- ing the man’s own children, had been largely bribed to attest a falsehood. The man was acquitted and discharged. On hearing the verdict, he exclaimed, “ Well, God is above the devil, after all!” and a murmur ran through the court, “See what comes of breaking the sab- bath !”
Mr. R immediately disappeared. He probably quitted the country, and as- sumed another name. Certainly, no- thing further is known of him in the neighbourhood where he once dwelt; and his name is mentioned only as an ex- emplification of the words of the Psalm- ist, “I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and lo, he was not: yea, I sought him, but he could not be found,” Psa. xxxvii. 35, 36.
The poor man whose life had been thus put in jeopardy by his compliance with the sinful requirements of a sabbath- breaking master, was led to trace the hand of God, both in his danger and in his deliverance. He became a humble penitent, a sincere and exemplary Chris- tian.
R, F—— purchased the premises that
| dren. /sacred proverb, ‘‘The* righteous man
39 had belonged to Mr. R. There he
erected spacious and commodious build-
| ings and machinery; long carried on a | prosperous trade ; lived to a good old age
in consistency and honour; and left a noble inheritance to children’s’ chil- Is not this an illustration of the
wisely considereth the house of the wicked ?”—considers it so as to make a
| proper estimate of it; sometimes, so as
to come into possession of it; for ‘the wealth of the sinner is laid up for the just,” Prov. xiii. 22—“but God over- throweth the wicked for their wicked- ness,” Prov. xxi. 12.
It should be added, that when the mill was rebuilt by R. F——, not only was it never profaned by the violation of the sabbath, but it was hallowed by being employed as a sabbath-school, in which, for a long series of years, at least a thou- sand children at once, were taught the words of eternal life. Thus was a good man blessed and made a blessing.
It becomes us to be extremely cautious in interpreting the calamities of others as direct expressions of the Divine dis- pleasure ; for ‘ whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth,” Heb. xii. 6. And when we have reason, in the judgment of charity, to think well of a person, the more he is afflicted, the greater his claim on our sympathy. It was in this particular that Job’s friends erred, and unkindly and un- righteously spoke to the grief of one whom the Lord had wounded; but the severe trial of whose faith and patience, instead of proving him, as they insinuated, guilty of presumption and hypocrisy, were found to praise, aud honour, and glory. But when ourselves the subjects of long, se- vere, and unaccountable rebukes, it be- comes us to search ourselves, and inquire, “Ts there not a cause?” and also to carry our case to the Lord,and say, ‘“‘ Show me wherefore thou contendest with me.”
But there are instances in which the calamity so evidently and naturally flows out of a course of disobedience to the commands of God, that it would be criminal to overlook the instruction and warning they are intended to convey.
How striking are the warnings of Scripture against harbouring the abomin- able thing, or bringing it into the house, ‘for it is a cursed thing,” Deut. vil. 26 ; Josh. vii. 13. The accursed thing, whe- ther it be a wedge of gold, hid in the earth in the midst of the tent; or the love of any sin, cherished in the heart, and
40
secretly indulged, will hinder the pros- perity of the individual, the family, the community. How fearful are such ex- pressions as ‘‘ All these curses shall come upon thee and overtake thee,’ Deut. Xxvili. 15; and how striking the warn- ing against indulging false hopes of im- punity! Deut. xxix. 19.
Men of mere worldly policy are con- cerned to secure worldly advantages, and to guard against outward calamities; but true wisdom would make it the chief con- cern to secure the blessing of God, and guard against whatever might be offensive in his sight. But whether or not his threatenings are regarded, they are often realized; such as Jer. xxii.. 13—15 ; Hab. ii. 9—11; Hag. i. 5, 6, 9; Zech. v.43; Mal. il, 2; iii, 5; James v. 1—4.
Abused temporal blessings are mingled with bitterness, and prove a deadly snare. It is proved by bitter experience, that riches and grandeur can neither prolong life, nor afford inward tranquillity ; and when men seek to enrich their families by oppression, injustice, or other vicious courses, the curse of God enters with their ill-gotten wealth; and there remains, to the waste of their substance, the im- poverishing of their posterity, and the ruin of their souls. This, perhaps, is operating in many cases where it is not suspected; but a day is coming when hidden things will be brought to light, and then the severest judgments of God, however they may now be objected against, will, in that day when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, appear most perfectly righteous. True prosperity belongs to those only ‘‘ whose delight is in the law of the Lord. The ungodly are not so: butare like the chaff which the wind driveth away. For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish,” Psa.i. C,
Ceemmeteen: {comet
SILENT POWER IN EDUCATION.
Power is not useless because it lies dormant. The government of the United States employs its hundreds of workmen at Springfield, and at Harper’s Ferry, in the manufacture of muskets. The inspec- tor examines every one as it is finished, with great care. He adjusts the flint, and tries it again and again, until its emitted spark is of proper brilliancy ; and when satisfied that all is right, he packs it away with its thousand compa- nions, to sleep probably in their boxes
{in quiet obscurity for ever.
SILENT POWER IN EDUCATION——TRAITS OF THE SIAMESE.
A hundred thousand of these deadly instruments form a volcano of slumbering power which never has been awakened, and which we hope never will be. The government never makes use of them. Qng of its agents, a custom-house officer, waits upon you for the payment of a bond. He brings no musket. He keeps no troops. He comes with the gentleness and civility of a social visit. But you know, that if compliance with the just demands of your government is refused, and the resistance is sustained, force after force would be brought to bear upon you, until the whole hundred thousand muskets would speak with their united and tremendous energy. Such ought to be the character of all go- vernment. The teacher of a school, espe- cially, must act upon these principles. He will be mild and gentle in his man- ners; in his intercourse with his pupils he will use the language and assume the air, not of stern authority, but of request and persuasion. But there must be au- thority at the bottom to sustain him, or he can do nothing successfully, especially in attempting to reach the hearts of his pupils. ‘The reason why it is necessary, is this. First, the man who has not the full, unqualified, complete control of his scholars, must spend his time and wear out his spirits in preserving any tolerable order in his dominions; and, secondly, he who has not authority, will be so con- stantly vexed and fretted by the occur- rences which will take place around him, that all his moral power will be neutra- lized by the withering influence of his clouded brow. To do good to our pupils, our own spirits must be composed and at rest; and especially, if we wish to influ- ence favourably the hearts of others, our own must rise above the troubled waters of irritation and anxious care.—American Annals of Education.
ese agli
TRAITS OF THE SIAMESE.
Tne Siamese cherish a horror of per- mitting any thing to pass over the head, or having the head touched, or bringing their persons into a situation of physical inferiority, such as going under a bridge, or entering the lower apartment of a house when the upper one is inhabited; for this reason, the dwellings in Siam are all of one story. The Siamese also con- sider it an act of extreme degradation to perform any servile office for a stranger,
MOUNT ETNA,
41
Mount Etna. .
MOUNT ETNA.
Etna is a mountain and volcano of Sicily, remarkable both in ancient and modern times. It is divided into three districts, or regions, each having its characteristic differences. They have dis- tinct climates, corresponding with the gradations of ascent, and divided na- turally into the torrid, the temperate, and the frigid. The mountain, however, has been usually divided according to other differences; and thus we have described to us the fertile region, the woody re- gion, and the barren region.
The fertile region extends fifteen miles from the city of Catania, whence the traveller usually begins his journey, and from which part the ascent commences. The surface of this region is reckoned at upwards of two hundred and_ twenty square leagues. It abounds in pasture grounds, orchards, and fruit trees, of
Fesravary, 1843.
great and rich variety, and there the vine especially flourishes. The next ad- vance is to the woody region, which be- gins about three miles above the latter place, and extends upwards of eight or ten miles. The vegetation of this part is said to decrease as youadvance, the trees gradually diminishing in size, till they become comparatively dwarfish and in- significant. This region is estimated at from seventy to eighty miles in circum- ference, with a surface of about forty or fifty square leagues, forming a girdle round the mountain of vivid green, com- posed of oaks, beeches, and other trees, in a soil of vegetable earth. The climate is here most agreeably mild, the air is cool and reviving, and every breeze is filled with delicious odours. It reminds us of the scene in the antediluvian world, which Montgomery has so beautifully de- scribed. E
42. CORAL
So pure! so fresh! the woods, the sky, the air!
It seemed a place where angels might repair,
And tune their harps, amidst these tranquil shades, To morning songs, and moonlight serenades.
There ison the mountain a curious snow grotto. The snow, which is drifted from the higher parts of the mountain, is stopped, by a wall erected for the pur- pose, a little above the grotto, whence it is thrown down by two openings; and is protected from the heat of summer, by a thick crust of lava, which forms a natural ceiling to the cave. Snow is exported from this receptacle in large bags, into which it is put, after being wrapped in leaves; and, thus preserved, it has the appearance of transparent crystal. The knights of Malta hire this, and other grottos of a similar description, for the use of their island: hence snow becomes an important article of trade, the nature of the climate always occasioning a large demand. As the desert region is ap- proached, vegetation becomes thin and small. Wintry blasts now sweep along a wild and desert path. Here and there, indeed, clumps of trees and tufts of herb- age are to be seen; but even these be- come more and more scarce, till they en- tirely disappear ; and the traveller must encounter a space, from eight to ten miles in extent, overspread with a flat expanse of snow and ice, and abounding