Chapter IV: Part 4

“Three young children were coming down the Mississippi with their father in a sort of a boat which they call there a pirogue. They landed on a desert island in that wide river, in a bitter snowy evening in the month of December; their father left them on the island, promising to return after he had procured some brandy at a house on the opposite bank. He pushed off in his little boat to cross the river, but the wind was high, and the water rough.--The children watched him with tears in their eyes, struggling in his pirogue against the stream, till about half way across, when they saw the boat sink--and never more saw their father. Poor children! they were left alone, exposed to the storm, without fire, shelter, or even food, except a little corn.

“As the night came on, the snow fell faster, and the eldest, who was a girl of only six years old, but very sensible and steady for her age, made her little sister and her infant brother creep together close to her, and she drew their bare feet under her clothes. She had collected a few withered leaves and branches to cover them, and in this manner they passed the long winter’s night. Next morning she tried to support her poor weeping companions by giving them corn to chew, and sometimes she made them run about with her to keep themselves warm.

“In this melancholy state you may imagine what was her joy, when, in the course of the day, she discovered a vessel--no--a boat approaching the island. It happily contained some good-natured Indians, who took compassion on the children, shared their food with them, and safely conveyed them to New Madrid in their own boat.”

The mistake that poor Caroline made in saying vessel for boat, and then correcting herself with a little confusion, betrayed her; so that the moment she ended her story, every one exclaimed “Boat,” “Boat.”

_19th._--In the morning we had a shower of hail, and since seven o’clock it has been snowing constantly the whole day. I am delighted with its pure, beautiful, feathery appearance; besides, it has brought back to my mind little shadows of things that happened before we left England. The ground all white, and the large blazing fire, remind me of the time when we were at Montague Hall, when my grandfather used to employ me to gather the crumbs at breakfast, to put out of the windows for the poor little starving birds. I believe it was that circumstance that gave me such a love of birds; for I am sure I can recollect the happiness I used to feel when feeding them along with good grandpapa, and watching all their little motions.

My uncle was amused with my exclamations of delight at the snow, and he was good enough to shew me that each flake has a star-like appearance, consisting of five or six rays that diverge from the centre; and that from each of these rays little _spicula_ shoot out, which by crossing each other form a beautiful net-work. He says that when clouds are formed at such a height in the air as that the temperature there is below 32°, the particles of moisture become congealed or frozen. If the particles are small, or if they are slowly frozen, they become snow, which gradually descends to the earth; but it often happens that the atmosphere near the earth is so warm as to re-dissolve the snow while falling, so that it comes down in the shape of rain. “This,” he added, “cannot take place with hail, because it is so much more solid, and falls so rapidly, that the warmth of the lower atmosphere has not time to melt it, before it reaches the ground. In summer, therefore, snow may be formed at a great elevation, as people who have ascended in balloons have more than once witnessed, but it again becomes rain in its descent; whereas, hail, for the reason I have given you, has been known to come down in the hottest months of the year.”

I reminded him that he had not told me why the moisture should sometimes freeze into flakes of snow, and sometimes into the pretty little round balls of hail.

“I waited,” he replied, “till you asked that question; for information is always best remembered when the want of it is felt. If the particles of moisture in the atmosphere are small, and if they are _slowly_ congealed, they form themselves into flakes of snow, as I have already mentioned; but when the moist vapour rapidly collects into large drops of rain, and when these are _suddenly_ frozen, they become hail.”

“So that in fact,” said I, “hailstones are nothing more than little balls of ice.”

“They are ice, but not common transparent ice,” my uncle said, as he opened the window and picked out a few hailstones from under the snow; “you see that they have an opaque whiteness very different from the appearance of ice. The upper regions of the air are not only always colder, but also less _dense_ than those near the surface of the earth; and the white porous nature of hail is owing to the _rarity_ of the atmosphere where they were congealed. Professor Leslie has proved this by the simple experiment of freezing small quantities of water in the reservoir of an air pump from which the air had been considerably exhausted. Hailstones, however, are not always globular like these; I have seen a shower of irregular lumps of ice of a great size, some of them weighing even three or four ounces, and producing dreadful mischief, killing the lambs and destroying all the crops. Last summer there was a partial hailstorm near London, which broke thirty thousand panes of glass in the green-houses of one nursery-ground.”

I am sorry to add, mamma, that every body says it is going to thaw; and there will be an end of all the amusement I have had to-day in looking at the beautiful feathery flakes as they blew against the windows.

_20th._--After dinner this gloomy evening, we had another edition of our story-play. Though very much amused by all I heard, I will only mention two or three little circumstances which may perhaps be interesting to you or Marianne.

The word telescope was whispered to my aunt; and in the course of her story she contrived to introduced the tube through which Prince Ali, in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, saw his distant friends. She said, she had very little doubt that this must have alluded to some optical instrument, and even that the carpet by which Prince Houssain transported himself through the air was of the nature of a balloon. Both these inventions are generally ascribed to the moderns, but she thinks they must have been formerly known in the East, where, indeed, all knowledge seems to have begun.

Mr. Lumley was so good as to join our circle; and having been given the word elephant, he mentioned a laughable anecdote of a man who took hold of an elephant’s tail lately in the streets of London. The animal was so displeased by this indignity, that he turned suddenly round, and grasping the man with his trunk, placed him against the iron rails where he kept him prisoner for some time. The keeper at last prevailed on the elephant to let the offender go, but not till after he had received some hard squeezes, for which he complained to a magistrate, who of course gave him no redress, as he was the first aggressor.

Mr. L. also told us that a friend of his in India, when riding on an elephant through a rice field, observed that the sagacious creature plucked a considerable quantity of the ears and carried them behind his trunk till the party stopped, when he ate them at leisure.

_21st._--The expected thaw arrived--yesterday was odious, half snow, half rain, and everything dirty and dreary. My uncle and Frederick went this afternoon to the poor man’s garden, where you know we saw the carrots raised up by the little icy pillars; but this thaw has made the roads so wet, that I could not possibly go with them.

Frederick tells me that all the fairy colonnades which supported the earth about the carrots are now melted, the earth has fallen down, and the tops of the roots are to be seen, quite bare, but above the ground, and appearing as if they had been half pulled up by hand.

I asked my uncle if frost pushes up any other kind of root in that way,--and he said that these columns have a quite different effect on fibrous roots, particularly the grasses. In consequence of the strong matting together of their roots, a whole piece of sward between two cracks is sometimes lifted up by these pillars, so as to separate it from the earth underneath. When the columns dissolve, the sward sinks into its former place, and the earth, which has been loosened and minutely divided by the frozen columns, affords a fine bed for the roots to strike into, so that it is rather an advantage than an injury to them to have been thus loosened. After the frost is melted, he says, he has seen patches of the sward lifted up with nearly as much ease as if they had been separated by a parting-spade.

Frederick asked what effect frost had upon soils which are not spongy.

My uncle told us that in clay soils the water forms small detached crystals, so thickly interspersed through the whole mass, that when a clod is broken, the fractured part looks as if covered by hoar frost; but they are too small for the naked eye to distinguish their shape. They help, however, to divide and loosen the clay in those stiff lumps; and after a frost the blow of a spade will almost reduce them into powder. Farmers sometimes, in expectation of this effect of frost, sow their wheat in very rough ground in autumn, in order that the clods, being pulverised by it, may close round the roots of the young plants; and these benefit by it as drilled corn does by _landing_--that is, having the earth laid up by the plough against the little seedlings when they have grown to some height. In mild winters farmers are disappointed in this; but my uncle says it is but a lazy mode of farming, and deserves to be disappointed.

Do you know, mamma, that I think it is colder and more uncomfortable than during the frost. The birds, however, seem to be rejoiced: I hear them chirping their satisfaction--and all the robins that we had in the house (we had seven at one time) have left their good shelter, and flown off to their companions, by whom I hear they are not likely to be welcomed: I suppose they are despised for not bearing the hardships of the season as well as the others.

_22nd, Sunday._--My uncle read the Ten Commandments to us to-day, and afterwards addressed us on the subject; and though I know that I cannot do justice to all he said, I will try and note down a little of it.

“‘And God spake all these words.’ The Hebrews emphatically called these commandments the ‘Ten words;’ and the same term having been adopted in Greek, they have obtained the name of _Decalogue_ in every modern language. Though all mankind were bound to obey the precepts contained in these important laws, yet, as they were more especially addressed to the Israelites, the tables on which they were engraven were preserved in the ark with great solemnity, and were distinguished from the rest of God’s ordinances by a peculiar veneration, as containing the covenant of the Lord. The Mosaic dispensation is at an end, but these commandments continue in full force; for we find that our Saviour and his apostles quoted them as matter of perpetual obligation to Christians; who are now, as the Jews were formerly, ‘the Israel of God.’

“In order to understand their full extent, it is necessary, my dear children, that you should _study_ them attentively: for though they are contained in a few brief precepts, they really comprehend a complete code of morality. You must consider that there is much more implied than is expressly ordained; and that each commandment is to be understood as a concise text, reminding mankind of the whole sum of their duty on that particular head. For instance, when any one sin is forbidden, it is evident that every offence of the same nature, though of a lower degree, is also forbidden; and that as we well know how easily we are seduced step by step, so we are bound to abstain from every indulgence which may act as a temptation to violate the principle of that law. We are not to be contented with a cold and literal obedience to this divine code. Whatever virtues are enjoined to us, it is equally our duty to induce others to practise them; whatever is prohibited, becomes a double crime in us if we tempt others to commit it; and observe, that for this enlarged sense in which we are to view these commandments, we have the direct authority of our Saviour.

“The introduction to the commandments states the grounds on which God required the obedience and adoration of the Jews; 1st, that he was the Lord their God; and 2dly, that he had triumphantly delivered them from Egyptian bondage. And let it be ever impressed on your minds that these reasons apply to us Christians, no less than they did to the Jews; for He is the Lord _our_ God by a more excellent covenant than he was theirs. He has relieved us from that slavery, of which the Egyptian bondage was but a type; and instead of the land of Canaan, he has prepared for us an inheritance in heaven.

“The first and second commandments, in which we are forbidden, under a dreadful penalty, to swerve from the worship of the one true God, or to kneel to any created being, seem to have been framed in allusion to the gross idolatry of Egypt, where all manner of living creatures were adored; and this allusion must have strongly reminded the Israelites of the want of power in those mock deities, who could neither prevent the plagues which they had just witnessed, nor could they enable Pharaoh, though backed by a mighty army, to detain them in that country.”

My uncle then went through all the other commandments, and said a great deal to us about the divine institution of the Sabbath; but when he came to the tenth, “This,” said he, “stamps the seal of divinity upon the whole Mosaic code, of which the Decalogue is the summary. No such restrictions are to be found in the laws of the most famous heathen legislators; neither Lycurgus, nor Solon, nor Justinian, interfere with the desires of the heart; they knew that human thoughts are not cognizable by human tribunals; but it was a command which naturally came from Him who both can and will ‘bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.’ How finely,” continued my uncle, “has our Saviour commented on this commandment, in his Sermon on the Mount! It is not the mere outward observance of the law that he inculcates, but the inward principle of obedience; it is the word of the law written in our hearts.”

_23rd._--The circumstance that Caroline told us lately, of the children on the desert island, in the Mississippi, naturally led to some conversation about that prodigious river, and the countries through which it flows.

We looked at its course to-day, in my uncle’s large maps of North America. He shewed us an account of it in Morse’s Geography, and he made us observe, that taking in all its windings, it is upwards of a thousand leagues in length; that it passes over twenty degrees of latitude; and, after joining with the Missouri, and receiving a multitude of smaller streams, though many of them are navigable for hundreds of miles, it pours its united waters into the Gulf of Mexico.

It is evident, he says, that the country through which it runs, was formerly inhabited by a more intelligent race than the natives now appear to be; for large mounds of earth are frequently met with near the banks of the river, within which are found the remains of pottery and other articles of a superior kind to those now in use amongst the Indians, who are in a very low state of civilization, and but thinly spread over that immense valley.

The Mississippi rises, as he shewed us, in a region of lakes and swamps, which are scattered over a table-land extending from that great ridge called the Rocky Mountains, nearly to Lake Superior, between the 48th and 49th parallel of latitude. In the first division of its course, it passes slowly and smoothly through _savannahs_, or low plains, covered with wild rice, rushes, and other aquatic plants, the rank growth of which is so great, that travellers say, that as they sat in their canoes, the adjoining forests were completely hid from their view by the lofty fields of waving grass.

In the second division, begins the granite country, with forests of elm, oak, and other lofty trees. Then come the dry _prairies_, which are the great resort of the buffalo and deer; and in which sycamore and black walnut begin to appear.

In the third division, which extends above 800 miles, the river increases vastly in breadth; flows through lime-stone rocks, and receives several tributary rivers, by some of which, boats may communicate, with short interruptions, between the Gulfs of St. Lawrence and Mexico.

Lastly begins the extensive tract of land, known by the name of the _Great Swamp_, or, as it is sometimes called, the Dismal Swamp.--Scarcely a tree or bush is to be seen for 300 miles, except the deciduous cypress, which gives a peculiar and gloomy aspect to this unhealthy region; and, to add to its horrors, it is subject to frequent earthquakes. Lower down, the banks of the river consist of clay, sand, and gravel; almost every flood undermines some parts of them, which fall in, and carry away whole fields and plantations into the stream.--From a place called Baton Rouge, which is about 140 miles above New Orleans, to the sea, they are scarcely elevated above the level of the river, and would be overflowed during the floods, but for artificial embankments, called _levées_, by which the long narrow line of plantations is defended. All beyond these embankments, is one vast level, swampy surface, covered with reeds and rushes, and totally destitute of trees. The inundations are said to have sometimes risen to the height of fifty or sixty feet.

The breaking down of a levée, with the tremendous rush of such a body of water, brings certain destruction on the neighbouring plantations. At those times, the whole surface beyond the sloping banks appears, for thousands of square miles, as one vast ocean; and only four or five years since, upwards of three hundred plantations were overwhelmed with water, and their crops totally destroyed. Very strict regulations have, therefore, been established for the prevention of this misfortune.

In these dreary plains a pretty little species of marmot is found; it is called the “Prairie-dog,” from a supposed resemblance of its cry to the hurried barking of a dog. The habits of this animal are so social, that they live together in burrows which are called “_Prairie-dog villages_,” and which sometimes spread to the extent of many miles; the entrance of each burrow is through a small mound of earth, of a foot or eighteen inches high, on the summit of which the little animals sit and bark, and flourish their tails; but they plunge in, on the least appearance of danger. In winter, they become torpid, having first securely closed up the entrance of their burrows, and made a nest of fine dry grass with a small opening just large enough to admit a finger, and so compact, that it might be rolled along the floor without injury. The burrowing owl is said to inhabit these plains also, dwelling in burrows of the same description as those of the prairie-dog.

_24th._--This day, our good friend, Mrs. P. left us--I am very sorry to lose her; and, so indeed, is every person in the house.

She had promised, you know, to tell me her history, but circumstances induced her to put it on paper, and I shall lose no time in transcribing it for your amusement, my dear mamma.

She was anxious to return to her father and mother, as her boys spent this vacation with Mr. Crispin, a very old friend.

To-morrow, as soon as the Lumleys go away, I shall begin to copy her history.

_26th._--My indulgent uncle had requested the gardener, or any one who happened to find a dormouse, to bring it to him; and Franklin, in stubbing up an old hollow root of a tree, luckily found one of those little fat creatures fast asleep. It is more plump, but very like a common mouse; the nose is blunter, and its tail is not so pointed; it is of a dun red all over, except the throat, which is white. It lay in a most comfortable little nest of woven grass, which has not been disturbed; and beside it there was a small collection of nuts and acorns.

My aunt has lent me a cage, and we shall see whether the warmth of the house can overcome its habit of sleeping during the rest of the winter; but I shall not for some days put it into a warm room; it shall be treated as if it had been frozen, and revived very gradually.

The same person, my uncle says, who tried the experiment on crickets, which I mentioned to you a fortnight ago, shut up some garden snails in a wafer-box, where he secluded them from food and water; but not from air, for he made several small holes in the box. He also put a few snails into a bottle from which all air was excluded; they, of course, died; but those in the perforated boxes retired into their shells, the aperture of which they closed with a thin membrane; and there they remained apparently dead, as long as they were kept dry. On being dropped into water of the temperature of 70°, they were found quite alive in four hours, and sticking to the plate which covered the vessel. One large snail was imprisoned for three years, and yet it revived on being put into water.

I was told a most singular instance of the length of time for which life may be suspended in those animals. Some snail-shells had for many years formed part of a little museum; one night the window of the room was left open; heavy rain beat into the case which had not been shut; and the next day, what had been considered only specimens of shells, were found crawling about the walls.

This faculty, however, is not peculiar to snails; for M. Socoloff, a Russian, found that some flies and small beetles, which had been long immersed in spirit of wine, had returned to life on being thrown into warm wood ashes. He was astonished at seeing the flies start up, and, after wiping the dust from their wings, fly away as if nothing had happened.

_29th, Sunday._--My uncle told us this morning, that the book of Leviticus was so called, because it describes the sacrifices and services of the tabernacle, which were to be performed by the tribe of Levi. He then read to us some of the chapters, and he answered in the kindest manner the questions which we all put to him, about the different offerings, and the regulations to be observed by the priests.

As he closed the book, he said, “The object of these observances has passed away with the Mosaic dispensation, and it is now only necessary to understand their general tendency. Sacrifices and offerings had been established in the infancy of mankind, and, though perverted by folly and idolatry, they continued to form a part of every worship in every country. It was the universal belief that sins could only be expiated by corresponding sacrifices of what was most valued; and gratitude for worldly blessings and riches seemed to demand some proportionate offerings.

“Sacrifices, offerings, and ceremonies were a kind of _representative_, or figurative worship. Compared with the present state of the world, the people of those days had few abstract ideas; even their arts, and sciences, and particularly their religious systems, were in a great degree described by allegories, types, and hieroglyphics; and though we can with difficulty see the connexion now, it is probable that every outward rite that was then enjoined to the Israelites, was really typical of some inward principle of virtue, or of some distinct point of faith. Taken altogether, it is certain that their object was to discipline that stubborn people into obedience--to preserve them from the surrounding idolatries--to keep them separate from all other nations, as depositaries of the revealed truth--to train them for the reception of a new dispensation--and, above all, they were designed to prefigure the great and final atoning sacrifice of the Messiah.”

_30th._--The weather has been so soft and mild for the last week, that it seems as if we had only dreamt of frost and snow. After the thaw, the ground, and even the walks, were so wet, that we could not go out of doors with any comfort, and as I had a little cold, I stayed in the house for a few days; so I was the more surprised at seeing what a change has taken place. The wheat-fields look greener than ever; the buds of the lilac and sycamore are swelling, and the woodbine leaves are actually bursting open. The flower-buds on the mezereon, which Mary showed me last September, are now opening; and a few scattered flowers, which are quite blown out, shew us their pretty pink faces, and promise a delightful smell. But, more than all, the snow-drops have already appeared, and in the sheltered spots there are many bunches of them quite opened. It is the most innocent, modest looking little flower; and with its pure and delicate white, forms a charming contrast to the dirty appearance of the walks.

The snow-drop blooms
Ere winter’s storms are past,
As she shrinks below
Her mantle of snow
And trembling shuns the blast.

_Feb. 1st._--Dreary as this season is, I find it better than I had expected; but, indeed, there is so much pursuit and rational occupation in this house, that it is impossible to feel any day gloomy.

We have now a return of frost, and besides those birds which venture into the house, there are several others which crowd round it in flocks to seek for food. Sparrows, chaffinches, and yellow-hammers are to be seen every day at the barn-doors, pecking what they can find; and Mary has shewn me the larks, sheltering themselves in the stubble; and the thrushes, blackbirds, and even fieldfares, nestling together under the hedges, as if endeavouring to console each other.

While the ground was covered with snow, I saw the black-headed titmouse come every day to a thatched shed in the yard, and with its back downwards, draw out the straws lengthways from the eaves of the shed, in order to seize the flies concealed between them; and I assure you, such numbers came to one spot, that they quite spoiled the appearance of the thatch, Mary says they are very useful in searching for the _larvæ_ of the _tortrix_, those ingenious caterpillars, that disfigure the leaves of fruit-trees by rolling them up for their houses. Gardeners, she says, are very ungrateful to these birds; for, supposing that they attack the blossoms, they are destroyed without mercy. They are, however, eaters of bees, so that they must be considered somewhat mischievous.

They are easily tamed and taught little tricks, such as drawing up a bucket. Mary placed some almonds yesterday on a sheltered bank; in a short time one of these little black-heads came, and grasping the largest of them in his claw, broke the shell by repeatedly striking it with his sharp bill, and then dexterously drew out the kernel.

My uncle walked with us to-day to Farmer Moreland’s, that we might see what out-of-door work was going on in this frosty weather. Besides drawing manure into the fields, while the ground is hard, we found his men busy in mending the hedges and fences; and now that the roads are pretty smooth, he will employ his team in carrying hay and corn to market. Afterwards, if the frost should continue, he says he will draw coals, which will be no great trouble--there are so many coal-pits in the forest. We heard the cheerful sound of the _flails_ as we passed his barn;--he was threshing out all his barley to sell for making malt. As we walked home my uncle told me the process of malting.

“Beer is, you know,” said he, “a fermented liquor, made generally from barley after it has been converted into malt; as in its natural state it would produce but an imperfect fermentation.

“The grain is first steeped for two or three days in water, that it may soak and swell to a certain degree. The water being then drained off, it is laid on the floor in a heap of about two feet high, when, with the warmth of the house and the imbibed moisture, it begins to _germinate_, and to shoot out its radicle; which is checked by spreading it out thinner, and frequently turning it over with wooden shovels to cool it. These operations require several days, and it is then thrown into the malt-kiln and slightly baked. The time it is kept there, and the heat to which the kiln is raised, depend on the kind of beer to be brewed, and the required colour for the malt; it is however enough for you to know, that from eight to twelve hours is sufficient; and that from 130° to 160° of the thermometer gives all the varieties of colour from pale ale to the brownest porter. By this process the grain undergoes a material change; it acquires a saccharine or sweet quality which it did not possess before, and which is destroyed if either the germination or the kiln-drying are carried too far. It also loses a large proportion of the mucilage that it contained; which is the reason why the flour of wheat that has been sowed in wet weather is generally bad; the grain partially heats in the stacks, a tendency to germinate takes place, and there is, therefore, a deficiency of that nutritious part, the mucilage. In this case the flour is said to be _malty_.

“This accounts for the bad paste which your aunt had some days ago; it was made of malty flour, and you know it had not the adhesive quality of good paste.”

_3rd._--How pleasant it is to find some chance circumstance relative to any subject about which we have been interested. Here is something that I found in Scoresby’s Journal; and it seems quite to agree with my uncle’s opinion.

“This night stars were seen for the first time during fifteen weeks, the sky being beautifully clear. The sea, as usual on such occasions began to freeze as soon as the sun descended within four or five degrees of the horizon, though the temperature of the air was considerably above the freezing point. Whether the heat of the water be radiated into the atmosphere, according to the theory of Dr. Wells, or whether a cold influence of the atmosphere be conveyed to the water, may be a doubtful question; but the fact, that the water more rapidly loses its heat when exposed to the full aspect of a cloudless sky, is certain. In cloudy weather no freezing of the sea ever occurs, I believe, till the temperature of the air is below 29°: but in the instance now alluded to, the freezing commenced when the temperature was 36°, being about 8° above the freezing point of sea water.”

_5th, Sunday._--My uncle said to-day that, before we quitted the subject of the Jewish sacrifices, he had a few more observations to make, to which he requested our attention.

“In a worldly point of view,” he said, “the punctual performance of all those rites, and a strict obedience to the ceremonial law, were the terms on which the Israelites were to inherit the land of Canaan; and in a spiritual sense they were to be considered as the means of sharing the benefit of that great sacrifice of Christ which was to lead to the inheritance of the heavenly Canaan. The institution of animal sacrifice had continued until the giving of the law, no offering but that of an animal being mentioned in scripture up to this period, except that of Cain, which was rejected. But when the law was ordained, we find that the connexion between animal sacrifice and atonement was clearly and distinctly announced; and that certain prescribed offerings were to be accepted as the means of deliverance from the penal consequences of sin.

“He who presented a sin-offering was commanded to lay his hands upon the head of the animal, as a confession of his own guilt, and as an acknowledgment that the punishment he deserved was, by the gracious forbearance of God, transferred to the victim. On these terms the offering was accepted, and a conditional pardon granted. The Hebrew word for sin-offering includes the sense of cleansing, expiating, and making satisfaction; and therefore every sin-offering, 1st, implied contrition and repentance; 2dly, an humble hope of averting a just chastisement by this figurative retribution;--and 3rdly, a firm belief in the efficacy of the great final atonement. The Jews well knew,” added my uncle, “that none of these sacrifices had in themselves sufficient value to clear the criminal, or to procure his pardon; they knew that they were only instituted as a public avowal of his crime, and as a type of the perfect expiation to be afterwards made by Christ for the sins of mankind.

“It was indeed the object of all the sacrifices of the Mosaic ritual, to impress the people with the necessity of expiation, even for involuntary offences; and to fix in their minds that awful maxim, as St. Paul expresses it, that ‘without shedding of blood there is no remission.’ This lesson was inculcated in the earliest sacrifice upon record--when respect was had to Abel’s sacrifice of the firstlings of his flock, rather than to the husbandman’s offering of the fruit of his ground; and afterwards in the covenant with Noah, as well as in various parts of the Mosaic law, where blood was in the most absolute way prohibited to be eaten, as being a holy thing consecrated to the purpose of general expiation. This expiatory virtue, however, the apostles emphatically say, belonged not to the blood of bulls and of goats, but to the blood of Christ, of which the other was only a temporary emblem.”

My uncle then read to us the several parts of Scripture to which he had alluded; and he added, that though we are now ignorant of the particular object of the ceremonies and minute directions for the sacrifices and offerings, we may perceive that solemnity and reverence were strongly enforced in all, with an exactness of obedience to lesser regulations, which shews that neither must we neglect the smaller duties while we obey the ‘weightier matters of the law.’

_6th._--A number of curious circumstances were mentioned at breakfast in a conversation on the force of habit, not only in animals, but in vegetables; and my uncle thinks it is a subject on which further inquiry would not be more interesting to the philosopher than useful to the farmer and gardener. I have only time to write a very little of what he said.

He told us that there are several plants, which have been naturalised in cold climates by bringing them there step by step. Rice he gave as one instance: it is a native of the East Indies, within the torrid zone, but was early cultivated in South Carolina, the Canaries, and the northern parts of Africa; and about a hundred years ago it was sown in Italy. It has ever since been creeping towards the north of Europe, and there are now very large plantations of rice on the banks of the Weser. It is, however, necessary in Germany to use the seed which has been ripened there; that of Carolina will not thrive at all, and Italian seed but indifferently, being destitute of that power of withstanding cold, which the German rice has acquired by habit.

Another example of the gradual effect of habit on plants my uncle learned from the late Dr. Walker. The Brazilian passion-tree is, you know, an evergreen in its native country; but when the Doctor was a boy in 1773, some plants of it near Edinburgh annually lost their leaves. During his life, however, they became gradually enured to the climate; and he says that in his latter years, in sheltered situations, they have retained their foliage through the whole winter.

I asked my uncle whether those plants, which have come from a warmer region, and are naturalised here, flower later in this climate than in their own.

“The times of the appearance of vegetables in the spring seem,” said he, “to be influenced by early acquired habits, as well as by sensibility to heat. That same Dr. Walker, whom I mentioned a few minutes ago, had some very singular ideas on this subject: his opinion was, that plants removed from one climate to another, generally observe their original season of flowering, unless prevented by some powerful cause. The climate of Spain and Portugal in December and January suits the flowering of the laurestinus; and you have seen that the cold of Gloucestershire in those months was not sufficient to deter it from following its old habits. In the northern parts of Scotland, however, it does not flower till April. Dr. Walker thought the flowering of any shrub in winter in this climate was an indubitable proof of its not being a native; and he therefore supposes the arbutus to have been a native of Iceland: in the fact, I believe, he is right; but, when the similarity of the climates is considered, it is rather a whimsical proof of his doctrine.

“He gives, however, several instances of plants brought from the southern hemisphere, which flower there at the time that the sun is in the tropic of Capricorn, and which adhere in this country to their old December rule, without obeying the influence of the sun when in Cancer.”

I afterwards met my uncle in the garden, where he showed me an immense quantity of buds on the peach trees, and took great pains in teaching me the difference between the flower buds and leaf buds--the former short, thick, broad and full, with a downy covering;--the leaf buds much less downy, longer, and not so thick. In a few weeks, he says, I am to see these trees in full flower, notwithstanding this wintery weather.

_7th._--From all I had heard Colonel Travers say about rice, I imagined that its cultivation was almost confined to India; and I had no idea till yesterday that it grew in North America, and even in Germany. I renewed therefore the conversation to-day, and I now find that it is so much cultivated in Spain, particularly in the low parts of the province of Valencia, that a very large quantity is exported every year.

The ground is prepared for it there by first sowing beans; and when they come into blossom, which is about March, they are ploughed in for manure, and flooded with water to the depth of four inches. After a third ploughing the rice is sown; and when it comes up, it is transplanted to another prepared field, and again covered with water. Each stem produces about twenty-four fold. When ripe it is gathered in sheaves, and put into a mill, the lower grinding-stone of which is covered with cork, by which means the chaff is separated without bruising the grain.

My aunt tells me that rice grows wild in the swamps of Upper Canada; and that the shallow parts of Rice Lake, which is near the residence of Mrs. * * *, is full of it. Her letters describe it as having the appearance of reeds with long narrow leaves, and bearing clusters of flowers at the top of the stem.

It is curious that the plant chiefly cultivated in the Sandwich Islands for food is managed very like rice;--the _taro_, to grow in perfection, requiring irrigation. The fields are divided for that purpose, like the rice grounds of the East, into small squares which may be easily flooded, and the roots are planted in rows. The root of the taro when roasted resembles the yam; but it is usually pounded into a paste, and then mixed with water, so as to become of the consistence of porridge.

The Sandwich Islands are nearer to you than to England, and yet perhaps you do not know, dear mamma, that although the bread-fruit is the most important of all their vegetables, they have another very useful one, called _Tee_ by the natives. The root is sweet, and produces a pleasant liquor, but a little intoxicating. The leaves woven together form a light cloak for the inhabitants of the mountains;--something like those formed of the palm leaves by the poorer natives of Hindostan, to shelter them while at work in the open fields. Fences are often formed by planting the tee roots close together; but what makes the plant particularly remarkable is, that a stalk of it is with them the symbol of peace, as a branch of olive is with us.

Of the bark of the paper mulberry that ingenious people manufacture very nice cloth; they make beautiful mats from the leaves of their palm trees; and you know what pretty cloaks and caps of feathers have been brought home from all those islands. They even stamp their cloth with patterns; and their weapons and bowls are highly carved. “This shews,” my aunt says, “that whenever people arrive at a certain point of civilization, that is, as soon as their food and other necessaries of life are surely and regularly supplied, the ornamental arts as surely follow.”

She afterwards added, that she thought it would be a very nice winter amusement for us to describe to each other the arts and luxuries as well as the principal natural productions of the different parts of the globe.

My uncle approved of this idea, and we are to try it sometimes as we sit after dinner round the fire. I fear I am quite too ignorant to attempt to bear a part; but I am sure I shall be delighted to listen.

_8th._--The sun rose this morning so brilliantly, and the distant hills looked so remarkably blue and clear, that I was sure we should have a fine day and a long walk; but my uncle told me that, at this season, both of those appearances indicate rain; and he took me to the barometer, and shewed me, by his meteorological journal, that the mercury had been _gradually_ falling ever since Monday night, and that it was very hollow on its upper surface. From all this he thinks there will be some days of continued bad weather. Accordingly, before breakfast was well over, the clouds began to collect about the mountain tops, and it is now raining. I have already made some progress in transcribing Mrs. P.’s memoir for my dear mamma; and if his prediction be correct, I shall have time to finish it before the return of dry weather.

MRS. P.’S NARRATIVE.

I am now going to fulfil my promise, Bertha, by giving you a sketch of my life; and as I shall begin by a detail of those early circumstances which have unceasingly influenced its happiness or misery, there will seldom be occasion to interrupt my narrative in order to point out their consequences. You will have no difficulty in perceiving how inevitably my errors led to their punishment; how certainly the heart is corrupted by selfish indulgence; and how pursuits that in themselves are laudable may become pernicious, if not controlled by a sense of duty.

I was unfortunately what is called a very promising child, quick in all my perceptions, and equally capable of retaining the knowledge I so readily acquired. My parents, delighted at my progress, were proud of their child; and by friends and visiters I was considered a prodigy. This injudicious praise had so powerful an effect, that when I was about twelve years old I determined to lay aside the common amusements of children, and to become a singular and distinguished character. My ambition was the more easily fostered, as in our retired situation we had but few neighbours; and, therefore, an occasional interview with their children, or a chance visit from my cousins, supplied me but scantily with opportunities of giving way to the natural activity of youth, or of having my pedantry successfully ridiculed by companions of my own age.

The pleasure which I had formerly taken in learning whatever was difficult, in order to astonish my mother, now became a real wish for knowledge; and as my ardour increased every year, I studied many subjects which are not in the usual course of female education. Though my mother would by no means have approved of such pursuits for other young ladies, yet so great was my influence, that I was not only uncontrolled by her, but even assisted by my father as far as his own powers permitted.

The attainments of either were very limited: they had amiable but narrow views of life; they were devoted to each other, and to their children; and to the poor around them, they were actively useful and benevolent. But their income was moderate, and my mother was obliged to practise the most indefatigable economy in order to ensure to her family those comforts which she thought they were entitled to enjoy, as well as to enable her to assist those whom she considered as dependent on her bounty; and at the same time to save something every year as a provision for her children. About all this I then knew or cared but little; I was insensible to the merit of her steady perseverance in these duties, and thought very lightly of the talents necessary for such management; or I thought of them, only to regret that intellectual creatures could waste so much of their existence upon such vulgar labours.

I have in latter years often wondered how my mother’s plain good sense could be so blinded by partiality, that she never even tried to conquer my absurd fancies, and, by forcing me into obedience, to teach me to be useful; indeed, it is most painful to me now to think of her generous but ill-judged forbearance.

While she was engaged in superintending her servants, or instructing my young brothers, or occupied in needle-work for us all during whole days, with scarcely the interruption of a walk, or the indulgence of a book, I was pouring over my high-flown studies; perhaps, reading Horace with one brother, or conquering mathematical difficulties with the other; or, seated under an old ilex-tree in the lawn, writing verses. Sometimes, to gratify my mother, I condescended to practise on the piano-forte; but this was one of the secondary employments which I despised; a thing for show; a silly waste of time; nothing that could benefit mankind by the developement of the human understanding.

When I was eighteen, my philosophical enthusiasm became so great, that every moment seemed lost which was not devoted to scientific pursuits. To waste that time and those powers which were given me for the noblest purposes, in the common nothings of life; to sit with my friends listening to the trifling gossip of the country, or to home-spun discussions, were sacrifices to which I would seldom submit, and I always broke away from them with undissembled scorn.

Many a lonely hour that she has passed repairing the clothes of which I disdained to take care, I might have cheered her by my company; or enlivened my father’s evenings by a little simple music, in which he delighted. But conceit and selfishness always accompany each other; and, what is more to the point, always lay the foundation of their own punishment; the very talents and pursuits which, under proper control, ornament and raise the female character, became by their abuse my incessant bane. I had the pride of human intellect; and prayed for knowledge: alas! I never prayed for wisdom, nor for humility.

I will give you an instance of my odious selfishness, because it shews how short the space is between right and wrong. I went one evening to the drawing-room in search of my brother, but he was not there. My father had a book open near him, though he was not reading; my mother was working, and both looking sad and anxious; I was quickly retiring out of the room, when my father, stretching out his hand, and drawing me gently towards him said, “Gertrude, my love, stay with us. We have had some unpleasant news to-day. Your poor mother and I are too low-spirited to amuse each other; and we want you, my dear child, to cheer us a little.”

“Yes, papa,” said I, “I will come as soon as I can,” and I hurried away.--I shall never forget his look of disappointment.--Can you believe it?--I was so callous to every good feeling that I coolly sat down to finish some mathematical question in which I had been engaged, before I condescended to return!--But you will ask--had I no principles, no sense of duty or religion to guide me?--Yes, I had principles, but they were always warped by some silly enthusiasm: I had religion, but it was that sort of highly wrought sentiment which produces no good fruits: it was very spiritual I thought, but it had little influence on my actions.

My mother was anxious to bring me more into the world; and I complained myself sometimes of the want of amusement; but I professed to despise company of all kinds: dancing was an absurd waste of life, and the stiff country dinners were tiresome. Had my vanity, indeed, been more gratified at the balls and parties to which I was taken, I should, probably, have liked them amazingly; but the truth was, the ladies thought me learned, and were afraid of me, and neither my appearance nor my conversation pleased the other sex; I therefore discovered that such occupations offered but little enjoyment to a cultivated mind.

When I arrived at the age of twenty-four, I was a strange compound of selfishness and sentiment, of folly and learning. Of every species of useful knowledge I was ignorant; to make or mend my clothes I considered degrading; and all the details of domestic economy I treated with contempt. My mother reasoned with me, but in vain; my father interfered, but it was too late; my habits were formed. My parents could not always conceal their feelings of disappointment, and I withdrew more than ever to my own ideal world of poetry and science, and to studies which, I cannot too often repeat, are praiseworthy only when kept in due subordination. My father once said to me with tears in his eyes, “The time will come, Gertrude, when you will feel your mistake,”--and it did indeed come.

Mr. P., a college friend of my brother’s, came to visit him about this time, and spent a week at our house. He was as enthusiastic as myself, ardent in science, and perfect in classical literature; he was, in a word, the most amiable and accomplished person I had ever known. Pleased with my conversation, he paid us repeated visits, and without sufficiently studying my character, he sought to win my hand. It was the most foolish thing that Mr. P. ever did!

The attentions of such a man were irresistible; he really gained my heart, and I soon consented; anticipating with delight, as I told my mother, a life devoted to him and to science. My father, however, entirely disapproved of the match, as Mr. P. had a very small fortune, and as it was too obvious that I was unfit to be a poor man’s wife. I exerted all my former influence to coax him into acquiescence; but the most I could obtain was that, instead of an absolute refusal, he insisted on our waiting for a year, that we might each have time to understand the duties and difficulties of a married life.

I had been accustomed, not merely to indulgence, but almost to deference. Gertrude’s opinion had always been consulted; her advice had always prevailed; and was she now, and in a matter of such importance, to be controlled like a child! “No, sir,” said I, “Mr. P. is _my_ choice, and I will not risk my happiness by submitting to any delay.”