BERTHA’S VISIT. (continued 5)

“This modest reserve always marked his conduct. To the observations of friends, whether of approbation or criticism, he seldom replied. ‘To praise,’ he used to say, ‘what can I answer?—to the censures of well-wishers I must listen in silence; for if wrong, their feelings would be hurt by telling them so, and if correct, I endeavour to profit by their remarks,’ But it frequently occurred that he reminded his friends of their former criticisms, and candidly pointed out the consequent correction.

“His high talents were combined with the most amiable disposition, and a most grateful heart. His good old grandmother lived to see the success and the excellence of the object of her care; and Canova, who cherished every affectionate feeling, enjoyed that first of pleasures—the repaying former benefits. After the death of his grandfather he brought her to reside with him at Rome, and his friends still remember his tender anxiety to make the close of her life happy.

“Canova sculptured the bust of his grandmother, in the dress of her native province, which was the same as that of Titian’s mother; and this bust he kept in his own apartment.—Pointing it out one day to a visiter, he said, with much emotion, ‘That is a piece which I greatly value;—it is the likeness of her to whom I owe as much as it is possible for one human being to owe to another;’ adding, ‘you see she is dressed nearly as Titian’s mother; but unless affection renders me a partial judge, my grandmother is much the finer old woman.’”

12th.—Mary has a most enviable memory; she has just been entertaining me with what she read in Waddington’s travels in Dongola.

She says, the houses there are either a sort of mud fortresses intended for defence, or else low cottages of straw and branches, tied together with bands, and supported at each corner by the dry stem of a palm, to which the walls are united.

The vale of Farjas is described as a most romantic little spot; a green and cultivated valley not two hundred yards broad, closely shut in between a range of high granite rocks, and a narrow branch of the Nile; and flourishing in freshness and fertility, in the middle of the wildest waste. The simple inhabitants offered a great many little civilities to Mr. W. and his companions.

She mentioned also two very curious passes through the hills; one called the “Pass of the Water’s Mouth,” near the entrance of which are two immense stones, as regular as if formed and placed there by art; and the other a winding pass amongst high rocks, that required an hour and forty minutes to travel through it; it is oddly called “The Father of the Acacias,” though from beginning to end it contains not one symptom of vegetation.

But I can write no more now, for my aunt has sent for me to walk with her, if I am so inclined—and that indeed I am.

13th, Sunday.—The conversation, at breakfast this morning, having turned on the history of Moses, my aunt observed, that the entire account of his life is told in the most plain and artless manner, unmixed with any circumstances likely to exalt his personal character, and is throughout distinguished by that candour and impartiality, with which Moses always speaks of himself.

I asked her, how soon after the death of Joseph, the destruction of the first-born of the Israelites was decreed by Pharaoh.

“There is reason to think,” said my aunt, “that it was about sixty-four years after the death of Joseph; probably soon after the birth of Aaron, who had not been subject to this decree; and about one hundred and thirty-three years after their settlement in Egypt.

“You are of course aware, Bertha,” continued she, “that Pharaoh was the title of all the Egyptian sovereigns at that ancient period; the Pharaoh who had favoured Joseph was dead, and his successors were ill-disposed towards the Israelites, who had increased so much, that the Egyptian kings began to fear them, for they still recollected the thraldom in which they had for a long time been held by the Cushite or Shepherd invaders. And besides, Egypt was still subject to incursions from the Arabians, on that very side where the Israelites dwelled; which accounts at once both for their jealousy of the Israelites, who had the power of betraying them, by admitting the invaders, and also for the fear expressed by Pharaoh, lest they should ‘get them up out of the land;’ because, as long as they were in Goshen, they were, if faithful, a sort of defence to his kingdom, by being thus situated on its frontiers.

“But to return to the history of Moses—the ark of rushes which his mother ‘took for him,’ was a little vessel or basket, made of reeds, and daubed with slime or pitch, to keep out the water; it was probably of the form of one of those boats, with which the river was always covered, and made, like them, of ‘bulrushes,’ by which is meant the papyrus of which the Egyptians made their paper, and which grew in abundance on the banks of the Nile. This papyrus was strong enough to resist the water, and well adapted by its lightness to swim with a child’s weight. The vessels of bulrushes mentioned in both sacred and profane history were made in the same manner on a larger scale. Bruce, the traveller, saw them in common use in Abyssinia; and even at this day they are to be seen on the Nile; though the introduction of plank and stronger materials has caused them to be laid aside in a great degree.

“It was customary for the Egyptian females to express their veneration for the Nile, by plunging into it, when it began to overflow the country; and it is probable, that when the daughter of Pharaoh bathed, it was in compliance with some such custom. Modern travellers tell us, that a ceremony is still observed by the Egyptian females, of going to solemnize with songs, and dance, and bathing, the first visible rise of the Nile.

“Observe here, my dear children,” continued my aunt, “the chain of small circumstances by which God leads mankind to the accomplishment of his high decrees. When the daughter of Pharaoh goes to celebrate a heathen ceremony—when she finds the babe, and calls the Hebrew woman to be his nurse, and when that nurse turns out to be his own mother—what a singular concurrence of events, simple and obvious in themselves, but wonderful in their combinations!

“Josephus, the Jewish historian, states that Pharaoh’s daughter was married but had no children, and therefore adopted Moses, and gave him a princely education; that he became a man of eminence amongst the Egyptians, was made a general and leader of their armies, and fought some battles with success. While he was instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, he was taught at home a knowledge of God; his father Amram imparted to him the promised redemption of Israel, and his mother fixed the true faith in his heart; so that it became the guide and the principle of all his actions.

“The land of Midian, to which Moses fled when he killed the Egyptian in defence of the ill-treated Israelite, was a part of Arabia Petræa, where some of Abraham’s posterity were settled; it lay upon the further side of the Red Sea, to the east of the wilderness of Sin. During his long absence from Egypt, Moses never forgot that he was separated from his family and his nation; and to mark his feelings he called his son Gershom, a desolate stranger. While he was thus an exile, he was trained in the school of adversity; his faith was strengthened, so that it prepared him for the arduous mission which he was born to undertake; and he became ‘meek above all the men which were on the face of the earth.’ No man, indeed, had greater trials—but about them and the important part he afterwards performed, I will take some other opportunity of conversing with you.”

14th.—I had so many questions to ask about papyrus, that I thought it better not to interrupt my aunt yesterday, when Moses was more particularly the subject of our conversation. This morning, however, I begged of her to tell me some particulars about the paper made from that plant, and I will now put down here the substance of what she told me.

“The papyrus, or Egyptian reed, as it is called, grows in the marshy ground, caused by the overflowing of the Nile, and rises to the height of six or seven cubits above the water. The stalk is triangular, and terminates in a crown of small filaments, resembling hair, which the ancients used to compare to a thyrsus.—It was very useful to the inhabitants of the country where it grew, for the stem not only served for building small boats, but was likewise used for making cups and other utensils. The pith of the plant was eaten as food, and the root, being full of a sweet juice, was frequently chewed.

“But the manufacture of paper was the most important of all its uses; for I need not tell you, Bertha, that before mankind had some means of noting events, the recollection of them was either lost, or became so mixed with error, in being preserved by mere oral tradition, that we have no records of the ancient transactions of the inhabitants of the globe; except those contained in the Bible, which were, you know, written by Moses retrospectively. Before the invention of letters, mankind may be said to have been perpetually in their infancy, as the arts of one age or country generally died with their inventors.

“When the outer skin or bark of the stem of the papyrus,” continued my aunt, “was taken off, several slender films or pellicles were found one within the other. These pellicles were carefully separated with a pointed instrument, and spread on a table so that the thickest parts were all ranged together. On these, another layer of pellicles was then transversely placed in a similar manner, and moistened with Nile water; the whole was heavily pressed, and when dried in the sun, formed a smooth substance well fitted for writing upon with pens made of hollow reeds, through which a coloured liquid was allowed to flow. The saccharine juice in the bark helped to make the adhesion perfect, but sometimes a thin coat of gum was laid upon the first layer. Thus large sheets were prepared for writing, and when formed into books, the boards or covers, we learn from some of the early Greek writers, were made from the woody parts of the same plant.

“The Egyptian name of this plant is Babr, from whence both papyrus and our word paper, seem to have been derived. The bark of a species of mulberry tree was afterwards used for paper; and liber, which properly meant the bark of a tree, was, therefore, applied to signify a book.”

Caroline, whose memory always serves her at the right moment, immediately repeated these lines,—

My aunt smiled, and then added: “To form those little bulrush vessels that are alluded to in the Bible and elsewhere, the papyrus was made up in bundles, and by tying these bundles together, and placing a piece of timber at the bottom to serve as a keel, they gave their vessels the necessary shape. Several ancient writers describe them; Lucan speaks of the Memphian or Egyptian boat, made of the thirsty papyrus; which corresponds exactly with the nature of the plant, as well as with its Hebrew name, which signifies, to drink or soak up.

“This plant requires so much water that it perishes when the river on whose banks it grows is much reduced; and it is for that reason that Job mentions it as the image of transient prosperity.”

15th.—My uncle has returned, to the joy of the whole family; he looks a little tired, but seems rejoiced to be at home. He has seen numbers of curious things, and has already told us some of them.

One thing that he mentioned was very interesting to me; he met a gentleman who had lately arrived from our southern regions, and who had seen that wonderful luminous creature of those seas which I mentioned to you in my journal when on board the Phaeton. According to this gentleman’s account, each of these brilliant animals diffused a sphere of light of eighteen inches in diameter; “Think then,” said he to my uncle, “what the effect must be on the spectator, when the sea is absolutely full of them as far as the eye can reach, and to many yards in depth. One evening, in particular, from seven to eleven o’clock, the ship sailed upwards of twenty miles through these living lamps; and the strong light they gave enabled him to distinguish many fishes, even ten or twelve feet beneath the surface of the water, that appeared to be accompanying the ship.”

My uncle then gave us a very entertaining account of an experiment he witnessed on the common house-spider, which proves that it possesses a natural diving-bell, to assist it in crossing water. The spider was placed on a small platform in the middle of a large tumbler full of water, the platform being about half an inch above the edge of the glass, and two inches above the water. It first descended by the stick that supported the platform, till it reached the water, but finding no way to escape, it returned to the platform, and for some time employed itself in preparing a web, with which, by means of its hinder legs, it loosely enveloped its body and head. It again descended, and without hesitation plunged into the water, when my uncle observed, that the web with which it was covered contained a bubble of air, probably intended for respiration. The spider, wrapped up in this little diving-bell, endeavoured on every side to make its escape; but in vain, on account of the slipperiness of the glass; and after remaining at the bottom for about thirteen minutes, it returned, apparently much exhausted, as it coiled itself closely under the platform, and remained there for some time without motion.

Another beautiful thing that my uncle was shewn by Dr. W., was a veil woven by caterpillars—actually a gossamer veil. The ingenious person, a German I believe, who had managed those little manufacturers, spread them over a large glass, and contrived to place them so that the work of each was connected with that of its neighbour. As he could direct or change their progress at pleasure, he was not only able to form the veil of a tolerably regular shape, but by sometimes inducing them to go two or three times over the same spot, to give it the appearance of flowered lace. The whole veil, though of a large size, weighed only three grains and a half; and a breath blew it up into the air, where it floated like a cloud.

16th.—When my uncle was in town, he was present at the opening and examination of an Egyptian mummy, along with several members of the Royal Society. Some mummies, he says, have two cases; in these, the outer one is ornamented with stripes of painted linen, and the inner case is covered with a kind of paper on which figures and hieroglyphics are painted with great brilliancy of colour.

The one which he saw had but a single case, which appeared to be made of sycamore-wood, two inches in thickness; the back and the front being fastened together by pegs. The case is made to stand upright, and is covered, inside and out, with a kind of shell or coat of plaster, to a considerable thickness. This coat is painted outside with hieroglyphics in horizontal lines on a deep orange ground; and the whole is highly varnished. The internal surface is likewise divided into broad stripes, alternately white and yellow; and on both are inscribed hieroglyphics and other characters about an inch long, probably consisting of prayers or invocations for the dead, or perhaps of some biographical notice.

My uncle told us that the embalmed body was most carefully secured from the air, by a covering of cerecloth, and by bandages that were applied with a neatness and precision that would have done honour to the most skilful surgeon of modern times. Of the many species of bandages which are employed in surgery, there is not one that did not appear to have been used; and they were so many times repeated, that after their removal, they were found to weigh twenty-eight pounds. Each limb, nay, each finger and toe had a separate one; and over all, another of great length, which, though without stitch or seam, after making a few turns round both feet, ascended spirally to the head, from whence it returned as far as the breast, and terminated there in loose threads like a fringe. In unravelling all these bandages, my uncle and everybody were struck with the judicious selection of their size and form, so as to adapt them to the different parts, and to give the whole a smooth surface, without a wrinkle.

They appeared to be made of a strong compact kind of linen, and were all of a dark brown colour, the result probably of some vegetable solution that contained a large proportion of the tannin principle. Many of them were daubed with wax and some resinous or bituminous substance; and some little crystals were found, from which a chemist who was present seemed to think that lime had been used in preparing the skin.

The circumstance that most astonished my uncle was that some of the sinews were still elastic and flexible, and that the joints moved as easily as in a living body. My aunt and he afterwards had a long conversation on the origin of the ancient Egyptians; the principal circumstance that I picked up was that the celebrated Cuvier has examined the skulls of above fifty mummies, and that, in his opinion, they have the same characters as those of the Armenians, Georgians, and Europeans; or, to use his expression, that the common origin of them all was Caucasian. The skull of that which my uncle saw leads to the same conclusion, and differed essentially from the form of the negro head. It is a curious fact, which he says has been noticed by more than one traveller, that whole families are still to be found in Upper Egypt, in whom the general character of the head and face strongly resembles that of the mummies discovered in Thebes, as well as the figures represented in the ancient monuments of that country.

17th.—A friend of my uncle’s, Colonel Travers, who has lately returned from India, where he served for many years, arrived here yesterday. He has been in various parts of the East, and is so entertaining, that I am sure I shall forget to note down half the curious things which I have heard him mention.

The conversation turned on bees, and he told us that in Mysore, where he was for a long time stationed, he saw four different kinds. That which makes the finest honey is a beautiful little bee of very small size, and which does not sting. It is called the cadi. It forms its combs round the branches of trees; the honey is excellent, and can be procured with very little trouble, as the bees are easily driven off with a switch. But the bee from which the greatest quantity of honey is procured is large and fierce, and builds under projecting ledges of rock, or in caverns. The honey is gathered twice a year, for which purpose the people kindle a fire at the foot of the rock, and throw into it the leaves of a species of cassia, which emit a smoke so acrid that nothing can endure it—even the bees are forced to retire. As soon as the smoke subsides, a man is quickly lowered by a rope from the top of the rock; he knocks off the nest, and is immediately drawn up again, for were he to make any delay the bees would return, and their stinging is so dreadful as to endanger life.

In a tour which Colonel Travers made through a part of Ceylon, he found a species of bees which might at first be mistaken for black flies. Their heads, compared with their bodies, are extremely large. The honey is very liquid, and has a disagreeable flavour. I asked him if he had ever seen the honey-bird or Indicator, when he was at the Cape?—he did see it,—and heard its shrill note of cherr, cherr, which announces the discovery of a bees’ nest. He followed this sagacious bird along with a party of bee-hunters, and it soon pointed out a bees’ nest, by redoubling the frequency of its cries, and by hovering over the place. Having taken most of the honey, they left only a small portion for their little guide, so that not having enough to satisfy him, he immediately flew off to find more. These birds construct very singular nests: they are composed of slender filaments of bark, woven together in the form of a bottle; the neck and opening hang downwards, and a string is loosely fastened across the opening, on which they perch.

Colonel Travers told us, that the skin of these birds is so extremely thick, that it can scarcely be pierced by a pin; and the bees therefore attack them by endeavouring to sting their eyes.

18th.—Colonel Travers was describing to-day the areca or betel nut palm. The berry of this tree is, you know, constantly used by the Indians, who chew it both green and dry.

The preservation of the fruit during the rainy season, and the cutting it down when ripe, require much expertness and agility. He says, that from the middle of winter to the middle of spring, the leaves fall off: each leaf is attached to a broad leathern petiole or leaf-stalk; and these membranes, which are about three feet long, and half that breadth, are preserved for the rainy season as covers for the young bunches of fruit. This business is performed by a particular set of people; for the stem of the tree, which is about fifty feet high, straight, smooth, and without branches, like most of the palm tribe, is very difficult to ascend. Round his ancles, and under the soles of his feet, the climber fixes a rope; his feet, thus bound together, he places against the stem, and while he holds on steadily with his hands, he gently draws up his feet. He thus moves one hand forward and then the other hand, and afterwards again draws up his feet. In this manner he slowly reaches the top of the tree, where he makes fast a rope, the end of it being tied to the middle of a short stick on which he seats himself and performs his work; drawing up whatever he wants from below, by means of a line hanging from his girdle. When he has covered all the fruit, he unties his seat, secures it round his neck, and swings the tree backwards and forwards, till he can reach another tree, upon which he throws himself, and again makes fast his seat. In this way he swings from tree to tree, and covers or cuts the fruit in the whole garden without once descending to the ground.

19th.—I hear such quantities of amusing things from this East Indian friend of my uncle’s, that I scarcely know how to select from them. I wish you were here to listen to his adventures and to see his beautiful drawings. He lent me a sketch of the famous talipot tree of Ceylon, which I have been trying to copy. What a magnificent object it appears, crowned at the top by those immense leaves, one of which, it is said, can shelter fifteen or twenty men from the rain! They seem to be formed purposely for this use, for they fold up like a fan, so that the whole leaf, or any portion of it, becomes portable; and though tough and impenetrable to water, they are easily cut with a knife. When a leaf is spread out, it is nearly circular; but it is cut for use into triangular pieces, one of which every Singhalese soldier carries as his parasol or umbrella by day, and his tent at night. The fruit is not eaten; but the pith, like that of the sago tree, is very good, if the tree be cut down before the seed ripens; when beaten in a mortar, it produces a kind of flour, from which cakes are made, that taste something like wheaten bread.

Colonel Travers made an excursion into the interior of Ceylon, and he described to us to-day a very curious mode of hunting which they have there. Near the side of a large pond, a hole is dug four feet deep, and wide enough to contain two or three persons. It is covered with leaves, branches, and earth, except a small opening, through which the hunters can keep a look out, and when necessary point their guns. Before dark they conceal themselves there, in order to watch the wild beasts, which come from the woods to drink, and the different species of which always come in separate herds. The elephants come first, and stay longest, as they usually bathe before they drink, and when the water is not deep enough, they draw it up into their trunks, and refresh themselves, by spouting it over their bodies. The buffaloes come next; after having satisfied their thirst, they amuse themselves by lying down in the water, and playing and tumbling about. The tigers and the bears also take their separate turns, and towards morning, the wild boars and deer, and other smaller beasts. It is for these that the hunters generally adopt this plan, which, however, is exposed to more dangers than one, for there are instances of elephants falling into the pits and crushing the people; and even of tigers and buffaloes having discovered them by their scent. To avoid such misfortunes, the hunters go in parties, and one person is placed in some secure position, to warn the others, and to frighten away the straggling animals that come too near, by firing upon them, or throwing rockets. Colonel Travers and his companions joined a party of this kind, and here is his history of it.

“We were called at two o’clock, and having carefully loaded our pieces, and filled our pouches with cartridges, we slowly advanced along the river. At a distance on the other side, the noise of various animals was echoed deep and terrible through the forest; and we heard, in almost every watery place around us, rustling and motion. We pitched upon one of the largest of these places, and crept softly, but at a little distance from each other, into the bushes and thorns with which it was surrounded. This pool seemed to be about five or six hundred yards in circumference, and we all agreed not to fire at an elephant, or at any of the large fierce beasts, but to wait patiently the arrival of the smaller animals.

“We had not been long concealed in our thorny hiding place, when two tigers approached at the opposite side, and we observed that they drank one after the other, though there was sufficient space for both. Another half hour elapsed before any thing more made its appearance, but the noise increased on all sides, and made us rather uneasy. At last we heard the deep low of approaching buffaloes, and three soon made their appearance. After having drank for a long time, they waded into the deep part and lay down, so that nothing could be seen but their noses; and no one, who had not seen them go in, could have suspected that such huge animals were concealed there. In a short time a fourth buffalo arrived, and after snuffing round him for some moments, he began to drink. Though the others put their heads out of the water, they did not interfere with him while drinking, but when he appeared inclined to advance farther into the water, one of them instantly attacked him with a hideous roar, and as the moon shone very brightly, I could see distinctly the whole of their furious battle. At every charge they retired some steps backwards, making the sand fly in clouds, and then, with dreadful snortings and at full speed, again rushed upon each other. At last the intruding buffalo received such a tremendous blow, that he fled; and the conqueror, disdaining to pursue him, merely bellowed twice, with a clear and terrific sound, that re-echoed on every side, when he quietly returned his companions.

“The pleasure I had felt in beholding this furious combat, was soon changed into alarm, by the unexpected report of a gun! The three buffaloes started suddenly from the water—for a few moments they stood together snorting with rage, and then two of them rushed off in the direction of the flash, while the third came out near me, as if to search the bushes on all sides. I endeavoured to get out of my bush before the monster could approach; but unfortunately I became entangled in the thorns, and it was impossible to extricate myself in time. By a violent effort, however, I tore myself loose, leaving most of my clothes behind, and instantly began to run—but the furious beast was now close—I almost felt his breath, and looking round saw him not six paces distant, when throwing myself flat on the ground, he passed over me and continued at full speed! I again crept into the thicket, and in a few minutes I heard the voices of my companions, who were in search of me, armed with flaming pieces of wood. I had felt much incensed against them for firing—but I found that they had not been to blame, a branch had struck the lock of one of their guns, which went off, and they had been exposed to as much danger as myself.”

20th.—“And he hardened Pharaoh’s heart, that he hearkened not unto them, as the Lord had said.”[6] My uncle told us to-day that this passage should be expressed thus:—“And the heart of Pharaoh was hardened, so that he hearkened not unto them; as the Lord had foretold.” It is so rendered, he says, in the ancient versions; and the most judicious modern commentators agree that this is the proper meaning.

“Indeed,” said my uncle, “in allowing it to be inferred that the Lord had purposely hardened Pharaoh’s heart, the translators of the Bible have acted inconsistently with their own view of the phrase in several other places.[7] This is very striking in the following chapter, where it is said ‘Pharaoh hardened his heart at this time also,’ which plainly implies that his resistance after the former plagues had proceeded from his own perverse and stubborn disposition. I have likewise been assured by some very learned men, that according to the Hebrew idiom, verbs active often signify permission; and in these verses it is much more consonant to our ideas of divine justice so to understand the expression: that is, that God permitted Pharaoh to proceed in his own proud and wicked career, insensible to the threatened judgments, which he had already despised.

“But even supposing that the verb is to be taken in the active sense, it is a remarkable fact, that the event was constantly suspended in order that Pharaoh might have it in his power to relent and to ‘set his heart,’ that is, to humble and change it, and become obedient to the word of the Lord; for after five plagues had already been wrought upon him, and that he still persisted, even then his punishment was withheld; in order to let him repent, if he would. Besides which, the delay afforded a far more conspicuous testimony of God’s patience, and gave greater dignity to his wrath.

“Pharaoh’s final obduracy therefore was not caused by God’s will, but was the effect of his own previous obstinacy;—that he hardened his heart was his sin;—that the Lord permitted him to harden it, was his punishment.”

My uncle said also that a Hebrew scholar told him that the word which is translated by the verb to harden in the above text is, in other parts of the Bible, translated, to grieve or to trouble; and that, in his opinion, the construction of the sentence requires one of those words.

“In several parts of the English Bible,” continued my uncle, “shall is put in the place of will. For instance, in Exodus ix. 4. ‘And the Lord shall sever between the cattle,’ where the sense evidently requires will; and thus, ch. vii. 4, and xi. 9, ‘Pharaoh shall not hearken unto you,’ should undoubtedly be rendered ‘Pharaoh will not hearken unto you.’ This agrees exactly with the principle I have already mentioned, that verbs active sometimes signify permission.”

My uncle mentioned several other instances of this confusion between shall, which seems to ordain, and will, which only foretels. And he added, “There are several of these minor faults and mistakes in our translation, which make it very important that we should never judge of detached passages, but that we should compare different parts of the Bible together, in order that they may throw light upon each other.”

21st.—I forgot to tell you in the right part of my journal, that in preparing my carnation beds, the gardener observed a great number of those wire-worms, which are so destructive to all the pink tribe. I recollected that Mr. Biggs said that salt destroyed them, but that it was difficult to apply just the right proportion; that is, enough to kill the worms, but not enough to render the ground sterile—which a great quantity of salt certainly does. In talking of this to my uncle, it occurred to him that the stuff called salt dross, which is often thrown away, would be a mild form of applying salt; and he was so kind and indulgent, that he procured, not without much trouble and difficulty, a boat-load; it is of an odd purplish brown colour, and retains many saline particles.

To each of my intended carnation beds, which are about six feet long and two feet broad, we put a wheelbarrow full of this stuff, which the gardener dug in, and thoroughly mixed with the earth. The beds were then thrown up in high ridges, to remain so for the winter, during which the salt will, my uncle thinks, destroy these mischievous worms, as well as the snail eggs.

If this succeeds, it will be a very satisfactory experiment, but many months must pass before we can ascertain its success.

This was done a few days before my uncle went to town.

22nd.—I have had another walk with my uncle to-day, in the beech-walk, of which he has made me so fond. I took that opportunity of asking him why some trees lose their leaves in winter, and others preserve them; for the fall of the leaf has been a subject of great curiosity to me, and I felt quite sure that he could explain the cause clearly. But he told me that it has never been satisfactorily accounted for, and that there is some objection to every opinion yet published. He says it would be a very good pursuit for my cousins and myself, to begin a course of observations on the nature of leaves and leaf-buds, and their connexion with the stem; and he has offered a prize, as he says they do in the learned societies, to whichever amongst us takes the best view of the subject.

I asked, was it not caused by frost? “It is not always the effect of autumnal frost,” he replied. “Some trees seem to lose their leaves at stated times, independently of the temperature. They fall from the lime, for instance, before any frost happens; and indeed all deciduous leaves, as the season advances, become gradually more rigid, less juicy, lose their down, and at last change their healthy green colour to a yellow or reddish hue.”

He then asked me if I had observed anything of the order in which the different trees cast them. I answered that the walnut and horse-chesnut appeared to have lost their leaves before any other: then the sycamore and lime, and I believed the ash had soon followed; but that many of the elm, and most of the beech and oak trees were still well covered, though they had changed colour.

“Yes,” said he, “but the leaves of the young beech, though they have become brown and dry, will not fall till spring; and the fibres of the oak are so tough, that the leaf does not easily separate from the branch. You may also perceive that the apple and peach trees remain green, very often till the beginning of December. Some botanists attribute the defoliation of trees to the drying up of the vessels which connect the leaf with the stem; and others to the swelling of the young buds for the succeeding year. This, they say, deprives the old leaf of its accustomed supply of sap, and as they enlarge, they push it out of their way; but there is a material objection to this theory, that the leafits of pinnated leaves fall in the same manner, though there are no buds to push them off.

“It is also supposed that the vessels of the petiole gradually become woody, and incapable of freely transmitting the sap; it therefore stagnates, the vessels become overloaded, and the parts which connect the stem and the leaf crack at the insertion of the petiole. The vessels being thus interrupted, the leaf is no longer supplied with proper nourishment; it loses its elasticity, and becomes dry and brittle; and the least shock, whether the effect of frost or of wind, detaches it.

“Another opinion,” added my uncle, “is, that the fibres of the leaf-stalk are not a simple continuation of those of the twig or branch, but that they both terminate at that point from which the leaf falls; being only connected by a kind of adhesive substance, which dries up when the sap ceases to rise. This point of separation you may easily perceive,” said he, “like a cicatrice, in the form of a ring; and the same appearance of a natural separation is to be seen in the peduncles of flowers, which seem also to be attached by a sort of vegetable solder to the stem.”

“But, uncle, why then do not leaves fall much sooner, if they are so slightly attached to the stem?”

“Because this adhesive substance is a strong cement, as long as it is supplied by the vegetable juices. If you attempt to remove the stalk elsewhere than at that point where it is united, the fibres are lacerated; and this proves that the separation had been prepared for at that one point, by some peculiar organization which acts independently of frost or rain, or other external causes.”

My uncle then shewed me the ring which marks the point of separation. It is most easily seen in autumn, he says; it is double in the orange, and in the berberry he shewed me that it is above the point of contact between the leaf and branch, so that after the fall of the leaf, the rudiment of the foot-stalk remains to preserve the bud. He took the trouble of pointing out a little triangle of thorns behind the young bud, which seems to be another beautiful contrivance of nature for its protection in that bush. We then observed this point of separation in other trees whose leaves were not at all gone, and he told me that it is very strongly marked in the horse-chesnut with five small dots.

I begged my uncle to tell me what I should particularly pay attention to in the course of our observations.

He said that as it has never yet been ascertained whether the leaves spring from the wood or from the bark, he would advise us not merely to observe the progress of the buds, but to take every means of tracing their connection with the interior. We may examine with his microscope all sorts of twigs, to see whether the vessels of the central part of the wood extend to the leaf-stalk; and he suggests that we should very carefully observe the difference of structure in evergreen leaves, and in those which perish in the autumn. He recommends us to lose no further time in beginning our task on the few remaining leaves, in order that we may see in spring whether evergreens shed their leaves in the same manner; and we are also to ascertain when their buds are actually formed. “Above all,” he says, “I advise you to take nothing for granted—examine every thing with your own eyes, and learn facts.”

I shall like this employment very much, and Mary, Frederick, and myself have agreed to work in concert. Both my uncle and aunt encourage us; they say it will afford a large field for very entertaining experiments, and they think that inquiries of this sort are highly useful to young people.

23d.—The fields which were ploughed and sown with wheat not above two months ago, are now of a beautiful green; how hardy it must be, to withstand the severe weather, which I am told may soon be expected! My uncle says, that wheat grows in every variety of climate, except in regions of extreme cold.

It has not been ascertained of what country wheat was a native, and it is certainly a very remarkable fact, that, though cultivated so generally, no wild plants of those species that are used in agriculture have been found, though one of our late travellers imagined that he found it in the mountains of Thibet.

The ploughs are still at work preparing the ground for oats to be sown in spring; or they are laying it up in fallows. The potatoes have all been dug long ago, and safely packed in houses, to preserve them from the frost, which spoils them. My uncle says, that, though potatoes are more used than formerly, they are not such a general article of food as in Ireland. The custom there is to store them in pits covered with a high mound of clay, which by excluding the air delays the progress of vegetation in the root, until the time of replanting returns.

“It is quite astonishing,” my aunt remarked last night, “how the cultivation of potatoes has spread since they were first discovered in South America, and imported by the Spaniards, who called them papas. Sir Walter Raleigh found them afterwards in Virginia; he introduced them into this country in 1596, and there is now scarcely a civilized spot on the earth to which we have not distributed them. Even to Persia, this valuable root has been conveyed by the benevolent exertions of our envoy, Sir John Malcolm; and at Abusheher the grateful inhabitants call it Malcolm’s plum.”

I have been very busy this morning clearing away all dead stalks and leaves in my garden, and completing the borders, which I have edged with thrift; and all my seed-beds have been lightly covered to preserve them from the expected frost.

The gardener is going to try two new methods of raising pine-apples; for my uncle always likes to ascertain truth by experiment. A great pit is to be filled with withered leaves, which in decaying undergo a fermentation that produces sufficient heat to answer the purpose; and in this pit the pots of pine plants are to be plunged. The second method is to place the pine-pots on a brick stand, in a moderate heat, and without being plunged in either tan or leaves. He is a most valuable gardener, and finds time for many nice little experiments without ever neglecting his regular work. All his carrot, parsnip, and beet roots are taken up and preserved in dry sand; he is now sowing celery under glass frames for an early crop for next year; and Mary says they have had celery every day since July, in Continual succession, as he constantly earthed it up, adding still to the height of the earthing in order to increase its size and whiteness. His peas and beans he sowed three weeks ago in the warm border in front of the south fruit-wall. He is now going to protect them from frost by branches of fir-trees, and he hopes to have some ready for the table by the second week in May.

What a contrast there is between the labour and attention necessary here for all these vegetable productions, and the luxuriance with which they spring up in Brazil! But there is a pleasure I am sure in successful industry, that is scarcely understood by the indolent inhabitants of those warm and fertile climates.

25th.—Yesterday being a bright lovely day, my uncle and aunt took advantage of it to go to Newnham to see the poor travellers, of whom we had heard nothing for some time.

Beyond all our hopes they found Bertram considerably better. My aunt had requested her own physician to attend him, and he is now so much recovered, that if the weather continue mild he is to set out to-morrow on his way home. The old gentleman arrived last week; and though great agitation was caused at first by their meeting, yet it seemed to have a favorable effect on Bertram, as the anxiety and fear of never seeing his poor old father again had preyed on his mind.

Madeleine’s spirits are a little improved; she allows herself once more to hope, but she is prepared to submit with true Christian resignation to whatever happens. She is relieved too from all anxiety in regard to her new father; he received her as a daughter, and expresses the greatest tenderness for her and her pretty little child; who has learned to say “dear grandpapa” among the few English words she has picked up.

When my aunt went in, she found him just going to read prayers to his son; she begged of him to go on, and she says nothing could be more touching than the scene—the weak but solemn voice of the pious old man; the calmness and devotion in the countenance of the son, and the gleam of hope that shone over Madeleine’s subdued and sad countenance.

26th.—Now that winter has really begun, we make a circle round the fire after dinner; and we are so comfortable and happy there that I am often sorry when the time comes for leaving the room.

We have various amusements; on some days we each invent little tales which are to turn on some circumstance that is first agreed upon; at other times we have some of those question plays in which you discover, by a particular set of questions, the thoughts of another person. One of our favourite occupations is doing arithmetical questions in our heads. We have often used a multiplier of three or four figures, which I assure you makes it hard work. My uncle and aunt now and then join in this; and being of course very ambitious to outdo them, we all get into a sort of fever of exertion which makes it very diverting, and the conqueror very triumphant.—Then we compare the different methods which we took, and each person finds out what caused their mistakes. I am afraid I am oftener behind in the race than most of the party, for beside their being much better arithmeticians than me, I am so afraid of being wrong, that I do not speak out in time even when I have my answer ready and right.

I must tell you one of the questions we had this evening; it was proposed by Caroline. In one of the vignettes to Bewick’s birds, there is a man preparing to fasten himself to a team of birds which are to convey him to the moon; the team is wedge-shaped, and the birds are harnessed together in rows, each of which increases by one, from the single bird that acts as leader. Now, supposing that the man weighs ten stone, and that each bird can raise five pounds, how many rows of birds are necessary for his flight?

27th, Sunday.—My uncle again took up the judgments inflicted on the Egyptians. He said that if they were considered with reference to that particular nation, it appeared that there was a peculiar meaning in some of those calamities, which would not have applied so well to any other people. He told us that they paid an idolatrous reverence to many of the inferior animals, and worshipped, as superior gods, the ox, the cow, and the ram. Among these, the Apis and Mnevis are well known; the former, a sacred bull adored at Memphis, and the latter at Heliopolis. There were also a cow and heifer, which had similar honours, at Momemphis.—These judgments were therefore very significant in their execution and object; as the Egyptians not only saw their cattle perish, but, what was still more dreadful, they saw their deities sink before the “God of the Hebrews.” This satisfactorily explains what is said in Numbers: “Upon their gods also the Lord executed judgments[8]”; and these events had doubtless a useful influence, though not a lasting one, on the minds of the Israelites, to whom the gods of the Egyptians must at that time have appeared very contemptible.

“I will cause it to rain a very grievous hail:” this judgment, he told us, was also particularly adapted to the Egyptians. The rain and hail that were foretold must have appeared of all things most incredible to the Egyptians; for in Egypt little or no rain ever falls, the want of it being supplied by dews and by the overflowing of the Nile; and when they witnessed this storm of hail, “such as had not been in Egypt since the foundation thereof,” and accompanied by “mighty thunderings,” and fire that ran along the ground, what dread and amazement they must have felt! Pharaoh had received warning of these terrific prodigies, which the deities of Egypt could not avert; and even the fire and water, which had been held sacred by the Egyptians, were now employed they found as passive instruments of their punishment. Besides the formation of the hail, which was so uncommon in that country, its falling so miraculously on the day, and in the district foretold, must have overwhelmingly convinced them of the impotence of the creatures which they worshipped, and of the boundless power of the Almighty.

I asked my uncle at what season these plagues had happened, and why the injury to flax and barley were particularly mentioned.

“The season,” said he, “is not expressly stated; but as the departure of the Israelites was on the 15th of the month of Abib, which corresponds with the beginning of April, we may suppose that the seventh plague (of hail) was sent about the beginning of March, so as to leave time for the three succeeding plagues. This idea is confirmed by travellers, from whom we learn that the barley harvest in Egypt is reaped in March, and the wheat in April; and it explains why ‘the barley was in ear,’ though not yet fit for reaping; and ‘the wheat and the rye were not grown up.’ Abib means the month of the young ears of corn.

“Their barley must have been a grievous loss, as the principal beverage of the Egyptians was made from it; but scarcely any thing could have distressed them more than the loss of their flax, because the whole nation wore linen garments, and the priests never put on any other kind of clothing. This linen was manufactured from that fine flax for which the valley of the Nile was famous, and was in great request in other countries also; for though the Egyptians did not trade abroad themselves, yet they readily disposed of it to foreign merchants.”

28th.—A question of mine this morning, though it exposed my ignorance, gave me an opportunity of perceiving how much light is thrown by general knowledge on the difficult parts of Scripture history; and, indeed, on all other history. I had asked how it was that the locusts, independently of their coming at the appointed moment, could have been called one of the miraculous plagues, as they were so common in Egypt. I saw my cousins looking a little surprised, but they are so good-natured that they never laugh at my mistakes.

My uncle explained to me that I was wrong in supposing that locusts were common in Egypt. “They are very abundant,” he said, “in the neighbouring regions of Arabia, which has been proverbially called their cradle, but the Red Sea appears to be an effectual barrier against their molesting the Egyptians. They seldom succeed in crossing any great extent of water; for though they frequently migrate into very distant countries, yet their habit of often alighting on the ground is fatal to them in traversing the sea.

“There is another circumstance that saves Egypt from the visits of these dreadful insects; when they take wing they are obliged to follow the course of the wind, and in that country, you know, the winds blow six months from the north, and six months from the south; but, at the time spoken of, an east wind prevailed ‘all day and all night;’ and the whole face of the country in the morning was covered with the locusts. This strong easterly wind, which enabled them to cross the Red Sea, was plainly preternatural; and we are told distinctly that ‘before them there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.’

“There are in Scripture ten names for locusts. The species mentioned here is called Arbah, which imports multiplicity; a very just name, indeed: for their prodigious numbers almost defy calculation; and the famous Dutch naturalist Leuwenhoek asserts, that every female lays upwards of eighty eggs. When a cloud of these insects alights upon the ground, the devastation they create is dreadful. Adanson, in his voyage to the western coast of Africa, says, that they devoured to the very root and bark; and that there was something corrosive in their bite, which prevented the trees from recovering their power of vegetation for some time. They even attacked the dry reeds with which the huts were thatched. Another traveller tells us that in Cyprus, as he went from Larnica to a garden at about four miles’ distance, the locusts lay above a foot deep, on several parts of the high roads, and millions were destroyed by the wheels of the carriage. Dr. Shaw says, that he saw them in such multitudes in Barbary, in the middle of April, that in the heat of the day, when they formed themselves into large bodies, they appeared like a succession of clouds darkening the sun: in June the new broods made their appearance; on being hatched, they collected together in compact bodies of several hundred yards square; and marching directly forward, climbed over trees, walls and houses, ate up every plant in their way, and let nothing escape. The inhabitants made trenches and filled them with water; they also placed quantities of combustible matter in rows and set them on fire; but in vain, for the trenches were quickly filled up and the fires extinguished by the vast numbers that succeeded each other.

“Strong winds, which can alone free a country from this plague, have several times blown large swarms over the central part of Europe, and even to England; and it was a ‘mighty west wind,’ which formerly carried them away from Egypt and cast them into the Red Sea.” I asked if these insects were really eatable, as St. John is said to have lived on locusts in the wilderness?

“As it is well known,” said my uncle, “that locusts have in all ages been eaten in the east, and are still esteemed a great delicacy in Barbary as well as in the south of Africa, some commentators have endeavoured to prove that St. John did eat them in the wilderness. But the word translated locusts, signifies also pods or seed-vessels of trees. The pods of some of the Robinia and Gleditsia tribes are considered in Syria to be sweet and nourishing; and it is, I believe, generally supposed that they were the food alluded to in the Gospels.”

29th.—In our genius conversation to-day, several people were mentioned on each side: Mary quoted a passage from Johnson’s Lives of the Poets respecting Denham, who, he says, was “considered at Oxford as a dreaming young man, given more to cards and dice than to study;—he gave no prognostics of his future eminence, nor was suspected to conceal, under sluggishness and idleness, a genius born to improve the literature of his country.” “Of Swift, too,” continued Mary, “there appears no early proof of genius or diligence; for when at the usual time he claimed a bachelorship of arts, he was found by the examiners too conspicuously deficient for regular admission—and at last obtained his degree by special favour; a term used, as Johnson says, in the university of Dublin, to denote want of merit.” It is probable, therefore, that new circumstances combined together afterwards to bring out the powers possessed by these celebrated men; and I am sure, mamma, this little perpetual argument serves to bring out several very entertaining biographical facts.

Haydn, the famous composer, was the son of a wheelwright; such an employment was not likely to lead to the cultivation of music, and we might be tempted to consider him as a natural genius; but it appears that his father played on the harp, and on holidays used to accompany his wife while she sang. Whenever this little domestic concert took place, the child, with two pieces of wood in his hands, to represent a violin and a bow, pretended also to accompany his mother’s voice; and to the very close of his life, this great musician used to perform with delight the airs which she had then sung. A cousin of theirs, a schoolmaster, came to see them, and being well pleased with the boy’s talents, proposed to educate him. His parents accepted the offer; and at school, having discovered a tambourine, an instrument which has but two tones, he succeeded in forming a kind of air, which attracted the attention of all who came to the school-house. He was then taught to sing at the parish desk, and was soon noticed by Reüter, who tried him with a difficult shake, and who was so delighted with the child’s execution, that he emptied a plate of cherries into his pocket. He was eight when admitted to the choir of St. Stephen, at Vienna, and from that time practised above sixteen hours a day. “In all this,” says Mary, “we see the natural effect of circumstances, and no mark of what is called absolute genius.”

30th.—Colonel Travers was not present at our conversation about the locusts; but on its being alluded to this evening, he told us that he had once seen a flight of those creatures which contained such an incredible multitude, that nothing could have persuaded him of the fact, if he had not been an eye-witness to it himself.

Instead of going by sea to India, he went overland, that is, through part of Turkey, Arabia, and Persia; and, in 1811, he happened to be at Smyrna, in Asia Minor, when this extraordinary flight of locusts occurred. He says that for several days stragglers had been passing, but at last the main body came, and in such a dense column, as not indeed to obscure the sun, but to produce a curious quivering light. He thinks the lines in which they appeared to fly were about one foot asunder, and that locust followed locust at the distance of three feet. They came in a steady, undeviating direction from south to north, and continued to pass, without any diminution of their numbers, for three successive days and nights. The breadth of this prodigious column was at least forty miles, for a messenger who had been dispatched by the consul to the pasha of Sardis, passed through them all the way, both going and returning. Caroline immediately produced the map of Asia Minor, and we found that Sardis is fully that distance from Smyrna, and that its direction is just at right angles to the direction of their flight.

My uncle was greatly interested by the Colonel’s account of this remarkable swarm, and proposed that we should endeavour to make some estimate of the number of locusts of which it consisted. We all took out our pencils and went to work. In the first place, the breadth of the column was 40 miles, or 70,400 yards; and as their ranks were a foot apart, we have 211,200 for the number of locusts at each foot of elevation. Colonel T. was then examined as to the entire height; he thinks it must have been much above 300 yards, for on looking upwards with his pocket telescope, he could see them like little specks glittering in the sun. We contented ourselves with the 300, and taking them also at a foot apart, there were of course 900 locusts in height, by which we multiplied the former number, and the product was 190,080,000. Now, mamma, for the length of the column: he says there was a gentle breeze from the southward, with which, and their own velocity, he thinks that they were travelling at the rate of about seven miles in an hour, and that they succeeded each other at an average distance of three feet. In each mile, then, there were 1760, and in seven miles, 12,320, which, multiplied by 72, the number of hours in the three days which the flight continued, gives 887,040 for the number in each line of the column; and this, finally multiplied by the 190 millions, gives the almost inconceivable total of 168,608,563,200,000 in this one swarm of locusts!

“I should like to know,” said Mary, “the exact size of these creatures.”

The Colonel said that he could not answer exactly, without referring to his journals, which were in town, but that he imagined they were about the same size as a large grasshopper: “But why do you want their exact dimensions?”

Mary said she would have tried what sized mountain they would have made if they were all heaped together. Frederick, who is a great collector of grubs and insects, immediately brought down some dried grasshoppers, but they were very small; and after much consultation, it was agreed to assume two inches for the length, and a third of an inch for the breadth and thickness of a locust. In a short time, Mary announced, as the result of her calculation, that the whole quantity would amount to 4818 millions of cubic yards.

“But in order to compare this huge mass with some tangible standard,” said my uncle, “let us see what proportion it bears to the largest pyramid of Egypt. According to the measurement of Dr. Greaves, the base of the pyramid of Cheops is 693 feet, and its perpendicular altitude is 499 feet.”

We again went to work, and Mary was again first with the answer, that her heap of locusts was 1030 times larger than the pyramid!

“Well, Bertha,” said my aunt, “you and I will try what sort of a girdle the Colonel’s locusts would make for the earth, supposing them to be placed close together; but what shall we assume for its circumference?”

My uncle said we might take 24,800 miles; and with my kind aunt’s assistance, I had the pleasure of astonishing the party with the information, that this great swarm of locusts would have encircled the globe with a band of a mile and an eighth wide!

If these locusts had alighted any where in a body, I suppose they would have destroyed every thing; as it was, Colonel T. says, the stragglers did a great deal of mischief throughout the country, and he mentioned a laughable story of the wife of an English merchant at Smyrna, with whom he was acquainted. This lady was very fond of her garden, and on the approach of the locusts she and her maids had spread sheets and table-cloths over all her choice flower-beds to protect the plants. Poor woman! she went to bed priding herself on her ingenuity, but when the morning came, she found all gone—not only the flowers, but the linen also totally demolished.

In answer to a question from my uncle, he said he had not been able to learn whether any great proportion of these locusts had penetrated into Russia and Europe, but he knew that myriads had perished in the sea of Marmora and the Euxine. In the gulf of Smyrna he had himself seen a ridge of their dead bodies, which was two feet high, and which had been washed up along the whole extent of the beach by the waves. The smell was most noxious, polluting the air for several miles inland; and this, he thinks, may partly account for the plague which occurred in the following spring. There is a saying in that country, but for the truth of which he does not vouch, that every seven years Arabia sends a swarm of those destructive insects into Asia Minor, though very rarely of such magnitude as that of 1811; and that every locust-year is succeeded by a plague-year of more or less severity.

Wentworth asked him if he had ever seen locusts used as food; and he replied that they are eaten in a great many parts of the world, and cooked in a great variety of ways. In some countries they are stewed, or fried, or made into soup, or salted and preserved; in others they are ground, mixed up with flour, and baked into cakes; but he had frequently seen the Arabs eat them without any preparation whatever, merely pulling off the head, wings, and legs, just as we eat shrimps.

My uncle and he continued to converse on the subject for some time, and I learned one more fact for you,—that their flight produces a sort of indistinct, tumultuous sound, something like the rustling noise of flames. The Colonel says this noise made his horse very uneasy, which no doubt was greatly increased by the locusts incessantly striking against him. In riding to Bournabat, where the English merchants have country houses, he crossed their line of flight; and in order to save his face, he was obliged to keep his hat on the side of his head, against which they pattered like a shower of hail. It appears that they never turn to the right or to the left, but fly straight forward, as if following one supreme leader, or rather as blindly impelled by some irresistible influence.

“How truly,” exclaimed my aunt, “it is said of them in the Bible, ‘The locusts have no king, yet go they forth all of them by bands.’”

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

LONDON: Printed by William Clowes, Stamford-street.