Chapter V: Part 5

"Impossible!" replied the professor, limping along as if every bone in his body was broken. "I maintain that it is a sensation purely corporeal, as there never yet was any pain where there was no body."

"You know nothing about it," sharply rejoined the doctor, cautiously feeling with his hands to discover his fractures. "There is mental anguish, in which the physical has no connection--don't you see?"

"But, gentlemen, what has this argument to do with the information I required?" asked the young merchant.

"I was about to enter into the subject in a proper manner, when Doctor Tourniquet interrupted me," observed Fortyfolios.

"I deny that!" eagerly exclaimed the surgeon.

"Doctor Tourniquet, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said the professor, assuming all his dignity.

"I deny that!" repeated the pertinacious disputant.

"Doctor, you are more than usually disputative," remarked Zabra.

"I deny that!" continued he: and it now became evident to Oriel Porphyry and his young friend, that both the professor and the doctor were exhilarated into a state nearly approaching intoxication.

"Demonstration! demonstration! Give me accurate demonstration: I'll not be convinced without it--don't you see?" said the surgeon.

"Argument is thrown away upon you: you are unreasonable, illogical, and inconvincible," muttered the other.

"Prove it! prove it! Give me the proof positive--let me behold the proof circumstantial," exclaimed his antagonist.

"Doctor Tourniquet, I beg you'll be silent," said the young merchant, in a tone that admitted of no dispute; and the doctor seemed only anxious to discover the extent of the hurts he had received. "And now, Professor Fortyfolios," he continued, "you can proceed."

"To come to a proper understanding of the case, you must be made aware that we left the Albatross on purpose to see whatever was worthy of observation in the city," observed the professor; "and, as I possessed a letter of introduction to a Columbian resident, there we first proceeded. We were heartily welcomed, and treated with a national hospitality; and were shown several remarkable things, of which the world will hear at a fitting opportunity. In returning from a place we had visited together, our friend suddenly left us to talk to some acquaintance he saw at the end of the street; and we thought we saw him go into a house, where we knocked. We were admitted; and I began explaining to the fellows, by whom we were immediately surrounded, that I desired to see my friend; but, without the slightest attempt at argument, the unreasonable brutes commenced beating us with heavy cudgels, till they were dispersed by your appearance."

"Let us see if I have killed these poor wretches," said Oriel, turning back to the place where he had left the three prostrate Chinese; but, to his great astonishment, and to the amazement of his companions, not a trace of either of them was to be seen. The dead men had taken advantage of their enemy being at a distance to scamper off from the field of battle as fast as their legs could carry them; and when the conqueror came to examine the destruction he had committed, he had the mortification of discovering that his triumph might take same note of "the missing," but the number of killed and wounded was not so easily ascertained.

CHAP. VIII.

THE MONSOON.

After paying short visits to some of the principal ports in the flourishing kingdoms of Borneo and Sumatra, the Albatross was gallantly pursuing her voyage through the Strait of Malacca. There had been no wind for several days, and the sky had continued without a cloud. There was an oppressive sultriness in the atmosphere; and so great appeared the heat of the sun's rays, that the pitch oozed out of the seams of the vessel, and the timber became scorched and blistered. This continued, with very little variation, till the ship, approaching the coast of India, entered the Bay of Bengal. A little speck was first observed upon the horizon, which gradually enlarged; and soon afterwards several other dark vapours appearing on the heavens, rapidly increased in size, till vast masses of clouds came from the north-east, thickening, and darkening, and swallowing up the whole of the bright sky which had but a short time since been visible. The sea, from a state of calm, suddenly became stirred in all its depths: its billows rose into hills, the hills into mountains; and the vast waves, as they acquired additional magnitude, lashed each other with such a violence, that their tops were crested with foam. Almost at the same moment came on powerful gusts of wind, that kept continually increasing in force, till each drove the mountainous waves before it, as if they were grains of dust, and swept the Albatross over them with as much ease as if it were but a feather. Her spars bent--her timbers creaked; and occasionally some part of the rigging would be stripped off like dead leaves from a tree.

Floods of rain poured down, as if there was a sea in the sky that was being emptied into the waters of the earth; and the lightning, flashing in streaks of lurid fire, exhibited the black tempest gathering in the clouds in all its terrors. Then came the thunder, booming in deafening peals, that seemed to shake the world to its centre. The desperate wind rushed on with all its might--then came the deluge--then flashed the electric light--and then the thunder burst again with renewed fury. This succession of forces was exerted upon the ship, without intermission, the whole of the night, as she scudded rapidly along under close-reefed foresail and maintop-sail; but, although it was evident to the oldest sailors in the vessel, from the manner in which she behaved during the tempest, that a more admirable boat had never been built, she suffered very severely in many places. Several of the ports were stove in, the gangways torn away, the quarter galleries crushed; ropes were snapped like threads, and a few of the spars were splintered into fragments. The water rushed in through the gaping ports, till the lee side of the main deck was a complete pool, several feet in depth; and the monstrous waves swept over the ship in such immense masses, that many of the crew every moment expected that she would be overwhelmed.

Towards morning, the fury of the elements in some degree abated; but the broken spars, and the torn rigging, had scarcely been repaired, before the storm recommenced with renewed vigour. Nothing seemed capable of withstanding its destructive violence. The wind howled, and the thunder boomed, and the lightning flashed, and the big waves came rushing on with more fury than ever. Every timber creaked, and the ship was leaking at every seam. The exertions of the old captain had not ceased since the commencement of the tempest. In the loudest roar of the storm, his voice might be heard shouting his orders through a speaking-trumpet. He was everywhere where he thought his presence was necessary; and, forgetting his superiority in the necessities of the moment, he bore a hand in the most laborious and dangerous duties. He was ably seconded by his officers; and, although the crew had been harassed by constant exertion, they cheerfully continued their efforts to work the vessel, and save her from the violence with which she was assailed. To add to their disquietude, they discovered that she had been forced a considerable way from her course, and that there was an alarming depth of water in the hold: the fore-mast bent like a mere twig; and every instant the fore-topmast threatened to go by the board.

The engine was immediately set to work to reduce the leak; and, a sufficient power having been applied, the water began to diminish. The helm was now directed towards Bengal. The men laboured indefatigably to repair the injuries the ship had sustained; and hopes were entertained that, if the masts remained secure, the Albatross might ride out the monsoon, and reach her destination in safety. Towards the afternoon, there was a lull, and the men got both refreshment and repose. Oriel Porphyry had not left the deck during the whole of the time the danger was most imminent; and Zabra, as usual, had continued by his side. Both seemed to take a sort of fearful interest in watching the progress of the tempest; and, although the water dashed over them in torrents, and they were frequently obliged to hold on with all their strength, to prevent being swept away by the wind, they remained in nearly the same position, observing the vivid flashes of light that played amid the rigging, and looking into the black depths of the foaming ocean, as they descended into the trough of some mighty wave. Neither spoke: at least, rarely was a word uttered; and, if the friends had attempted to converse, the uproar that raged around them would have prevented any other sound from being heard. Several times Captain Hearty approached, and earnestly advised them to go below, as they exposed themselves to much unnecessary danger; but Zabra remained, with his head resting upon the shoulder of his patron, and his hand clasped in Oriel's, as if he knew of no protection where he was not; and the merchant's son, as if pleased with the affection of his youthful friend, would not be persuaded to leave the deck.

"Does any thing ail you, Zabra?" at last asked Master Porphyry, during an intermission of the storm, noticing that his companion had made two or three short hysteric sobs.

"No; I am well, I am quite well, Oriel," murmured the youth, as he raised his head, and looked in the face of his associate.

"Why, your eyes are filled with tears, Zabra! How is this?" exclaimed the other affectionately.

"I know not. A feeling has come over me, which I could not control," replied he in a whisper, as his delicate frame trembled with emotion. "I was thinking--I was thinking that, if the ship was swallowed up in these huge waves, that--that I should like--that I should like to die--that I should like to die with you thus;" and, with many sobs, he flung his arms round the neck of his patron, and let his head droop upon his breast.

"And so you shall, Zabra, if such fate be ours," said Oriel Porphyry, much moved by the devotion of his young friend. "But I see no reason to despair yet. The gallant Albatross bears it bravely; and, unless we lose the masts, or ship one of these overwhelming seas, we shall ride into port by to-morrow, or the next day at latest. But this is childish of you, Zabra, to give way to such feelings. You behaved not in this way when we were fighting side by side amid the pirates. Come, come! be more like yourself; and when the storm is over, which I hope will soon be, you shall laugh at these apprehensions; and you shall sing me one of your stirring songs, all about the glory and the freedom to be found upon the mighty waters of the deep; and I shall be enraptured, and you will rejoice."

Zabra raised his head, shook back the clustering curls that shadowed his face, and looked earnestly upon his patron.

"I will do as you wish me," he replied. "I have been wrong in disturbing your contemplations with my foolish fears: but, however proud the heart may be,--however great, and brave, and noble be all its tendencies,--there comes a time when all superiority and all valour are lost in a sense of overpowering humility and apprehension. But, hark! The elements are again let loose upon us. Hear how the wind howls, like a lion roaring for his prey! And look at this mountain of water sweeping up to ingulf us within its dark devouring jaws. Cling to the mast, Oriel! cling to the mast! or you will be swept into the sea."

Oriel Porphyry held one arm tightly round the waist of Zabra: with the other he grasped the mainmast, as the towering billow, forced onward by a violent gust of wind, broke on the deck, carrying away two of the sailors, who were inattentive to its advance, and pouring through every opening into the lower parts of the ship.

"A man overboard!" was the immediate cry: but the vessel was proceeding at so rapid a rate, that no effort could be made to save them. When the fury of the tempest had abated, the two friends descended to the cabin; where Oriel, observing that Zabra seemed ill and faint, wanted him to take such refreshment as his exhausted frame needed, and tried to strengthen the effect of his command by setting before him a good example. A long fast, and the excitement of danger, continued for such a period of time, required nourishment; and the young merchant seemed desirous of showing his companion that his fatigues had not spoiled his appetite; but though he pressed him frequently to partake liberally of the different things he had ordered for him, he could not induce him to follow his directions to any thing like the extent he desired. In fact, Zabra appeared to have suffered too much from the state of feeling in which he had existed during the recent tempest to be able to realise the kind wishes of his patron.

"My dear Zabra you are not well," observed Oriel Porphyry, finding his endeavours and example so little attended to. "You look perfectly exhausted. Go to your hammock and endeavour to sleep off your fatigues. If I do not see that you take proper care of yourself, I shall deserve censure from Eureka. So if you do not wish to get me into trouble, you will do as I desire you."

"She will not blame you," murmured his youthful associate, as he proceeded to his little cabin.

"What an extraordinary creature he is!" he exclaimed, as soon as Zabra had left him; and he was reflecting upon the cause of that mystery in which the character of his youthful friend seemed enveloped, when he was disturbed by the entrance of the two philosophers. Fortyfolios looked somewhat paler than usual, nor did Tourniquet appear quite at his ease. They had also suffered from the effects of the storm, though neither of them had appeared on deck while it lasted.

"It is extraordinary to me, Dr. Tourniquet," said the professor gravely, as he entered the cabin--"It is extraordinary to me that you will argue from wrong premises."

"It is as extraordinary to me that you will argue to wrong conclusions, don't you see," replied the surgeon good humouredly.

"What is the matter in dispute now, gentlemen?" inquired the young merchant.

"We differ in our ideas concerning the true nature of happiness," responded Fortyfolios. "Now, I maintain that happiness consists in virtue; for there can be no true happiness without the existence of virtuous inclinations; and virtue is but another name for purity--a state of being perfectly free from the pollution of vice."

"And I maintain a very different sort of thing altogether, don't you see," replied the doctor. "But first of all let us examine the idea that happiness consists in virtue--by which I suppose is meant that virtue produces happiness. There are a thousand instances of virtuous people being as miserable as a bear with his fur shaved off. One from disappointed love--another from the death of a friend or relative, and a third from constitutional irritability. One finds misery in the past--another meets with it in the present--a third looks for it in the future; and although all these are virtuous in the common acceptation of the word, they are far from being happy, don't you see. But there is a stronger case against the argument that virtue produces happiness in the instance of----Suppose a noble spirited youth, or an amiable and excellent girl, who may be, in thought or action, the beau ideals of virtue, yet if they are disgraced in their own eyes by their near relationship to individuals notorious for some degrading vice, their very notions of virtue create in them a continual misery. They have done no evil, yet they are ashamed of themselves--they have a most decided inclination for sincerity; and yet, knowing that if the world knew of their connection with vice, they would be considered to be vicious as a natural consequence (for such is the unjust conduct of the world), they are obliged to practise deception; and the practice of deception soon becomes habitual--they deceive all around them. Their principles are thus continually warring with their actions; and the dread of their deceit being discovered, and the disgrace which attaches to them becoming known, creates a state of misery not easily to be exceeded."

"But I cannot imagine such a state of things," remarked Oriel Porphyry. "No child can be made answerable for the criminality of its relatives; and a well educated mind will care little for an opinion by which it is sought to be degraded, if that opinion is unjust."

"Certainly," observed the professor approvingly.

"We must take society as we find it, don't you see," added the doctor, "with all its prejudices and all its injustice. If the circle in which moves a youth of either sex, whose conduct is irreproachable and whose motives are admirable, discover that the father of their young associate was hanged for murder, or that the mother was noted for profligacy, they will shrink from him as if he was as vile as his origin; but to the young female this sort of connection bears with a most cruel severity. There are many children born out of wedlock, of mothers of infamous characters, which the father, who may be of a somewhat higher rank of life, with a laudable anxiety for the welfare of his offspring, takes from the mother and educates. Imagine a child thus originated, carefully instructed in virtuous principles till she approaches the period of womanhood, when, with the knowledge of her mother's infamy, she ventures into a society in which her beauty and intelligence would render her one of its best ornaments, she is acutely sensitive of her own disgraceful position in the eyes of the world, and enters into companionship with individuals of her own sex whom she is well aware would consider themselves contaminated by her presence if they knew her secret; or becomes beloved by a youth of the other sex, who, thinking her what she appears to be, honours her above all human beings, with a continual dread that the truth will be disclosed, and that she will be pointed at, avoided, insulted, and abandoned by those now so eager to seek her society. There is no state of misery so deplorable as this. In time, the constant anxiety and fear in which she exists will affect her health, and she gradually wastes away with the bitter consciousness that she is the victim of a prejudice: although perfectly innocent, is punished as if she was the vilest of criminals; and, although formed to diffuse happiness around her, is obliged, from day to day, to endure the crushing agonies of an unceasing misery. And this is an example of virtue without happiness, don't you see."

"But possibly the dread of insult, or a sense of shame," continued the doctor, "prevents her from entering the society in which she ought to find an honourable place. She is confined to a narrow circle, out of which she dare not step, and is obliged to associate with the worthless of her own sex and the profligate of the other. Her companions are the vulgar and the vile. They having no proper conception of the value of either truth or virtue, and she looking on the world that has abandoned her as unjust, and smarting under the wrong it inflicts, begins to think them as much ill treated as herself, and believes that a false interpretation has been given to their conduct. Gradually she parts with her conviction of what is honourable. One by one she acquires the mean and contemptible vices of her associates. She sees them dissimulate, and practises deception. Falsehood becomes habitual. She loses all self-respect. She becomes criminal, degraded, and depraved. In fact, by an atrocious verdict, she is at first considered one of the very Pariahs of society, don't you see, and is at last forced to be the vile thing the world had thought her."

"The prejudice which so punishes is a disgrace to any civilised community," exclaimed Oriel with warmth, "and the laws which press so cruelly upon natural children are both impolitic and inhuman."

"They are undoubtedly severe," observed Fortyfolios; "but their severity is caused by the detestation of society for vice."

"That I deny," eagerly replied Tourniquet. "Change the condition of the child. Suppose it to be the offspring of a prince; and, although the mother be a sink of iniquity, the girl will be eagerly sought after by honourables and right honourables, most nobles, and others that entertain the highest notions about virtue. So much for the community's detestation of vice, don't you see. Now for my conception of the true nature of happiness. I consider happiness, in the first place, to be the result of a peculiar temperament. There must be a disposition to be happy in the individual before any happiness can be created. In some persons this disposition is so strong, that the most afflicting things will scarcely, if at all, affect it; in others, the disposition is so weak that it is continually overpowered by external circumstances; and in others, the disposition is not to be traced, for it does not exist. That virtue is necessary to a state of happiness there is no doubt; but what is called virtue by different communities appears in so many various shapes, that it requires a more catholic sense attached to it than it possesses to make it universally understood. I consider virtue to be a moderate indulgence in our inclinations when they do no injury to the individual, to the object, and to any other person, with a perfect and exclusive sympathy of an individual of one sex for an individual of the other. Modesty is called a virtue, chastity is called a virtue, and sobriety is called a virtue; but they are only distinct features of the virtue I have described."

"That is clearly enough defined; and I should think could not be disputed," remarked Oriel.

The professor said nothing.

"Now this virtue does not create happiness any more than does the virtue of my learned friend," continued the doctor; "but in by far the majority of instances it is necessary to its existence. The happiness that arises from alleviating suffering has often been found in an individual possessing no pretensions to virtue. But happiness itself is pleasure. There is the pleasure of creating enjoyment in an object, and there is the pleasure which succeeds it in the individual. There never was happiness without pleasure; there ought not to be pleasure without happiness. There is no pleasure like that of doing good; consequently, there is no happiness like that of making others happy: and wherever there is a disposition to be happy, it will exhibit itself in a desire to create happiness in others; and wherever there is no disposition to be happy, the individual will be just as careless of the happiness of those around him as he is regardless of his own. That's my idea of happiness, don't you see."

"And it appears to me a very rational one," observed the young merchant. "But how does the disposition to happiness arise?"

"There are some very curious phenomena connected with the origin and growth of these dispositions," replied the surgeon. "In the first place, all dispositions are formed in the individual by the pressure of external circumstances, no matter how or from whence directed: evil dispositions and good, and they arise at different times and sometimes in succession. When created, they set with a certain impetus in a certain direction; and as in these the extremes meet, if another impetus is given, they will proceed from bad to good to the same distance they advanced from good to bad. This is the cause of individuals having been notorious for vice becoming eminent for virtue. Water flowing from the top of a mountain is capable by its own power of finding its level on a mountain of a similar elevation; and the impetus of vice being carried down a certain way ascends by the impetus of good a like height. This accounts for the old proverb, 'The greater the sinner the greater the saint;' that is to say, the force in one produces a like force in the other. Again, the disposition to love has frequently been followed by the disposition to hate, as nearly as possible to the same extent; and the disposition to happiness may as frequently be succeeded by the disposition to misery."

"But supposing the impetus to be carried down, it will want the application of no other power to carry it up; and if carried up, will unassisted carry itself down," remarked the professor.

"Not so," replied the doctor: "Evil is of a heavy nature; and when it descends, clings to the soil at the bottom, unless it receive another impetus: and good is of a light nature, that naturally rises, and when it has attained its highest elevation would there remain, were it not sent down with a similar force."

"The idea is ingenious, certainly," said the young merchant.

"And that is all the merit it possesses," observed Fortyfolios, whose more orthodox notions could not tolerate such an hypothesis. "Were such a theory generally adopted, its mischief would be incalculable. It would loosen our sense of the moral obligations, and utterly destroy all the established ideas of right and wrong."

"As for the moral obligations, don't you see," replied Tourniquet, "I am perfectly convinced that it would place them on a much more secure footing than they now possess; and if established notions on the subject are erroneous, which I can prove them to be, the sooner they are knocked on the head the better. I have already shown to you, in the instance of the natural child, that the idea of virtue in the community is very vague, unsettled, and unphilosophical, and creates more mischief than it does good; and if we take the ideas of the same principle existing at different times and in different communities, we shall find even this confusion worse confounded. Things the most opposite to the true character of virtue have been considered worthy of general adoption as virtues. Thieving has existed as a virtue; drunkenness has existed as a virtue; profligacy has existed as a virtue; murder has existed as a virtue; and many others of the most abominable vices have, at various intervals, with various people, been practised, avowed, and defended, as if they were the most admirable of virtues. It is not many centuries since the natives, on the coast of Guinea, and the inhabitants of other countries, were taught to steal, and the cleverest thief was an object of as much admiration among them as the most virtuous member of the community; but there is no necessity to go to a state of barbarism for an illustration of the honour with which dishonesty has been regarded; for in all speculations, in all trading dealings, in all gambling transactions, and in all appropriations of property acquired by one party from another by a certain cunning or skill, of which the other is not possessed, there is nothing else but stealing; and yet a person acquiring property by such means is generally thought to be respectable, and respectability is considered a virtue."

"I am afraid, if your argument be true, that there is but little real honesty in the world," remarked Oriel.

"It is as I have stated," replied the doctor. "I have read of states in which the man who could swallow some half a dozen bottles of wine, and make his friends follow his example--in other words, a man who practised habitual intoxication--had the reputation of being 'a good fellow,' when amongst the same people goodness was considered virtue; but even at the present day, in some parts of the world, intemperance is regarded as a thing to be applauded rather than censured, although it is not only a vice, but being the most direct channel to all other vices ought to be held in detestation as the most vicious of evil inclinations."

Oriel Porphyry thought of the scene he had witnessed at Canton; but he smiled, and said nothing.

"With regard to the next of these vices which are considered as virtues," continued the doctor, "there are few so destructive to happiness. What is vulgarly called virtue in the government or indulgence of the affections, in a majority of instances, should go by an opposite name. It is upon record, that a certain king of Ashantee was possessed of 3333 wives: other monarchs have been equally affectionate towards their female subjects; and it is very rare, indeed, to find these potentates, even with the wise king Solomon at their head, possessing any pretensions to this identical virtue; and yet they have been honoured more than the most virtuous character in their dominions. But I maintain that all marriages against the inclination of one or both parties, such as those formed for convenience, from state policy, or by the authority of parents and guardians, is a state of absolute vice; and yet the individuals so existing are regarded as if living in a state of perfect virtue."

"Undoubtedly they live in a state of perfect virtue as long as they have no vicious inclinations," said the professor.

"But it frequently happens that one of these parties has entertained an inclination for another before marriage," replied Tourniquet. "An inclination perfectly virtuous, but circumstances over which either have no control, force them into a marriage, and then in the opinion of the world that inclination (which is rarely destroyed) is considered vicious, though perfectly virtuous in itself, and the state in which the individual exists, against his or her inclination, is considered virtuous, though perfectly vicious in itself, because it tends either to destroy the virtuous inclination, or if that inclination is indulged under those circumstances, it creates a state of things which is just as far removed from virtue. The same species of vice is created by an inclination after marriage--which is likely to occur when the marriage has taken place without an inclination."

"At one time the punishment used to be very severe for endeavouring to effect a marriage or a similar state of things against the inclination of one of the parties," remarked the young merchant. "And I imagine that if the mis-marriages to which you have alluded were punished after the same fashion, both the public morals and the public happiness would be much increased."

"No doubt of it, don't you see," responded the doctor. "And now for an examination of the manner in which murder has been regarded. About a thousand years since there was a religious community in India who practised murder as a virtue. They were called Thugs, and after long watching for an opportunity, with abundance of prayers and other holy ceremonies, they fell upon their victims and strangled them with a cord. Previous to this, there arose a military and religious order in Persia, called Assassins, who stabbed or poisoned in secrecy and without shame; and by both these communities murder was practised as the highest kind of virtue. But they were not the only people who entertained similar notions. The heathens murdered the Christians, and the Christians slaughtered the heathens. The Catholics destroyed heretics, and heretics waged a religious war upon one another. The Mahometans killed Jews or Christians, or any other sect not professing their form of faith; and the Jews, Christians, and others, retaliated to the best of their ability; and under the name of religion nearly all religious sects have murdered by wholesale, and, practising this inhuman vice, each party has conceived that they were exhibiting the highest kind of virtue. But at the present day, murder in a variety of shapes exists, and is regarded as a virtue of a very high order. Even in an offender, the destruction of human life is murder, unless, which is a very extreme case, it be impossible for the security of society, to allow the offender to exist; yet the sanguinary executions that disgrace the penal codes of many communities, boasting a superior degree of civilisation, is called justice, which is but another name for virtue. Killing a man in a duel is murder. All warfare is murder; yet he who distinguishes himself most in the destruction of those to whom he is opposed is honoured as being peculiarly brave--and bravery is considered a virtue."

"Occasions arise when warfare is absolutely necessary," said Oriel Porphyry; "and I cannot help the conviction, that the man who signalises himself in the defence of his country, and in the destruction of his enemies, is entitled to rank with the most virtuous characters."

"Certainly," observed Fortyfolios.

"With regard to wars being necessary, don't you see, in the present state of the world they may be," replied the surgeon. "But in an improved order of things they would not be required, for then the force of opinion would be much more effective than the force of arms; and as to the superior character of valour, although few can admire heroic actions more than myself, I know that the courage by which they are created is an impulse which may exist to the same extent in the savage and in the brute. This is not necessary to virtue, for in some organisations the want of physical energy renders the existence and the exhibition of martial courage impossible; and it is not produced by virtue, for it is often found existing in persons of the most vicious inclinations. Now I think I have said enough to show the want of clearness in the ideas of virtue that have existed and do exist in the world, and the danger which must arise from attempting to build any happiness upon so insecure a foundation."

"I differ with you _in toto_," exclaimed the professor, with more than his usual seriousness. "And glad I am that such is the case; for your heathenish theories are destructive of every religious principle that the human mind possesses."

"Pish!" muttered the doctor.

"It is an argument, the tendency of which goes directly to level all the existing distinctions between right and wrong, and to weaken the influence of those sacred truths which have been professed by mankind for so many generations," continued Fortyfolios.

"Bah!" exclaimed Tourniquet.

"You may profess what opinions you please," he added; "but the opinions on which multitudes of people rest their expectations of future happiness ought not to be disturbed by the contemplation of such vain and idle speculations as those in which you indulge."

"Nonsense, don't you see," said the other.

"I tell you, Dr. Tourniquet, it is rank atheism," exclaimed the professor, rather warmly.

"I tell you, Professor Fortyfolios, you're a goose," replied his antagonist.

"As usual, gentlemen, your argument ends in a dispute," observed Oriel Porphyry. "But you must excuse me for the present. I am really tired out, and have been yawning in a manner that would have silenced any disputants less eager than yourselves. I shall go to my berth, which example I should advise you to follow; and let us hope that the terrible monsoon will allow us some repose."

The philosophers took the advice that was offered; and in less than half an hour all three were fast asleep in their hammocks.

CHAP. IX.

GAME LAWS IN INDIA.

"Pooh, pooh! Come and hunt. Come and hunt. There is no use in looking after a parcel of buildings, and running to see sights: now you are in this part of the country you ought to enjoy the pleasures it affords. Come and hunt, man. Come and hunt."

This was said by a fine, stout, middle-aged man, dressed in a light jean jacket and full lower garments of a similar fabric, with a very broad brimmed hat of fine straw, which he was then putting on. Although his complexion was sallow, his features were lively and intelligent; and there was a bluff, free, careless manner with him that seemed particularly agreeable to his companions. They were in a handsome chamber with an open veranda, through which the slight breeze that was stirring, entered; and the furniture, though rather faded, still possessed an air of elegance. Wines, fruits, and sweetmeats were on a large table in the centre, near which Oriel Porphyry and the speaker stood. Zabra was leaning over the back of a cane-bottomed seat, watching the motions of a lizard crawling up part of the framework of the veranda. Fortyfolios was busily engaged endeavouring to beat off several mosquitoes that seemed to have taken a fancy to his bald head; and Dr. Tourniquet was examining the tusk of an elephant that lay, with several skins, in a corner of the room.

"Ah, but, Sir Curry Rajah," replied the young merchant, "when you kindly invited us to your country house, I told you our stay could be but brief. The period I intended to pass with you has elapsed; and though delighted with your hospitality, I must really be thinking of my departure."

"Nonsense, nonsense!" exclaimed his host. "You wo'n't be thinking of any thing of the kind. There is no business waiting for you. My people in the city will take care that every thing you required shall be shipped safely without loss of time; and, therefore, there can be no occasion for your troubling your young brains about profit and loss for a day or two at least. Come and hunt, I tell you. Come and hunt."

"Is there any good hunting in this part of the world, then?" inquired Oriel.

"Hunting! The best hunting in the universe," replied Sir Curry Rajah. "I've got the finest preserves in all India."

"And what game have you?" asked his visitor.

"Game?--Game of all kinds, and plenty of it; especially tigers," responded the other.

"Tigers!" exclaimed the young merchant in so loud a voice that his companions started with surprise. "Why, what could induce you to preserve such animals?"

"The sport, to be sure, man," replied Sir Curry; "and we are obliged to be very strict in the application of our game laws; for the rascally poachers will often destroy the game."

"I should think the game more likely to destroy the poachers," observed his guest with a smile.

"That's their look out," said the other. "I only know it's a most difficult thing to preserve tigers. My tenants shoot them if they happen to attack their flocks; and the peasants combine to kill them, for the purpose of procuring their skins. But our game laws punish the scoundrels severely if they are caught in the fact--imprisonment and hard labour for every offence, and very just these laws are. Why, gentlemen would have no sport if they were to allow their game to be cut up by every fellow who has a desire for sport, or thinks his life or the lives of his cattle of more value than a tiger. I have been at great expense with my preserves; for the animal has long been exceedingly scarce: and I have improved the breed a great deal by importing some new varieties. The cross which has ensued has altered the game wonderfully. They are infinitely more savage, far more daring, and in speed and cunning are not to be excelled. In fact, my tigers have a reputation all over the country; and the ablest hunters are very glad to get a day's sport with me, as they know they will meet with the best tigers that are to be found any where."

"And how do you hunt them?" inquired Oriel.

"On elephants principally," replied Sir Curry. "The hunter sits upon an elephant, with an air gun, fixed upon a swivel, before him. These animals are well trained. I've got some of the finest elephants in the world, thorough-bred--and they go into the preserve, and rouse the tiger from his cover. If he goes off, the elephant follows; if he shows fight, the hunter fires: and sometimes the game is not killed till fine sport has been enjoyed--a man or two killed, and other exciting pleasures enjoyed."

"And did these skins belong to animals of your killing?" inquired Tourniquet, who had been an attentive listener to the conversation, as he turned over two or three large tiger skins.

"Yes, I killed them, and fine sport they gave," said his host. "That one you have in your hand belonged to a noble fellow. The day in which he was killed was a memorable one. My late neighbour, Lord Muligatawny, was very proud of his preserves, and used to boast he had the best tigers in India. So to take the conceit out of his lordship, I invited him to a hunt on my grounds. Well, he came on his elephant, for he enjoyed the sport as much as any man, and we proceeded together with our attendants to a jungle in which I knew the greatest quantity of game was to be found. He and I kept close together, he boasting all the time of the superiority of his preserves, till as we entered this particular place, I thought it would be most advisable to be at a short distance from him, so we separated, but without my losing sight of him. Now Lord Muligatawny used a peculiar kind of snuff-box, and was a fierce looking sort of man; and he used to say that no tiger could ever look him in the face. He said the brute always bolted when he tried the experiment. Well, we saw lots of game, and had some capital sport, but as we were proceeding along in high spirits at our success, I started a magnificent animal. I had a shot at him, but was not near enough to do him any mischief. As the tiger was stealing off towards Lord Muligatawny, he fired; but whether it was his mismanagement of the gun, or proceeded from his elephant's suddenly backing at the approach of the tiger, I cannot say; but certain it is Lord Muligatawny was tumbled off his elephant, and in another moment the tiger was upon him. 'Now we shall see if the tiger will bolt,' thought I; and he did bolt: but he bolted with Lord Muligatawny! He grasped his lordship by the nape of his neck at the time he was looking as fierce as a ferret, and flinging his body over his shoulder, he was out of sight before any one could get a shot at him."

"And what became of him?" inquired Oriel.

"That was the last we ever saw of Lord Muligatawny," replied Sir Curry. "But about a week afterwards I was hunting in the neighbourhood, when, after a capital run, and a desperate contest, I succeeded in killing one of the finest tigers I ever saw. I had his body taken home to show him to my friends, and upon opening him, among the best part of a sheep, a dog's hind quarters, and a litter of sucking pigs, we found the identical snuff-box of poor Lord Muligatawny, proving beyond the possibility of a doubt that not only had the tiger bolted _with_ his lordship, but that he had had the audacity to make a bolt _of_ him. But come and hunt--come and hunt--I will show you some capital sport."

"Such as you showed Lord Muligatawny, I suppose," said the young merchant, laughing.

"Oh no, there's no danger," replied his host; and then taking an air-gun of a peculiar construction towards his visitor, added, "Now, look at this weapon--one of the best of the kind ever made. This is fixed on a swivel in the carriage in which you sit on the elephant; and you are quite safe, and, if you are a tolerable marksman, are sure to wound your game. Besides this, the hunter generally has a strong short sword, like this," said he, producing a weapon of that description. "Very sharp and very useful too, for if the tiger leaps on the elephant, which he will frequently do, the hunter with a good blow at his head may settle his business. Come and hunt, man, come and hunt."

"Confound these mosquitoes!" exclaimed the professor in a rage, vainly endeavouring to drive the insects from about him, and making the most ludicrous grimaces, as in spite of his exertions they succeeded in biting the exposed part of his head. "These horrible things will torment me to death. Ever since I have been in this deplorable country, my head has been besieged by thousands of them. They don't let me rest a minute. Ah! What a gripe! I shall go mad! They'll torment me to death; I can't endure it, Sir Curry."

"You'll soon get used to it," said his host, quietly. "This is the way they always use strangers. You are fresh meat to them. But come and hunt--come and hunt; I'll have the elephants got ready for you immediately, and it's a capital day for the sport."

"What say you, gentlemen? Shall we hunt the tiger?" asked Oriel Porphyry.

"I would rather you would hunt the musquitoes," said Fortyfolios, seriously.

"What say you, Zabra?"

"If you wish it, Oriel," replied the youth.

"I have not the slightest objection, don't you see," observed the doctor.

"Then let it be, Sir Curry," said Oriel.

Orders were instantly given to the servants, a crowd of dark Hindoos, in white turbans, short frocks fastened round the middle with a sash, and with bare arms and legs, who lost no time in making the necessary preparations.

Three elephants were caparisoned and led round to the front of the house. Sir Curry mounted the largest, and Fortyfolios and Tourniquet, after some trouble, managed to get firm sitting on another. While these preparations were making, Zabra had been amusing himself by feeding the remaining elephant with sweetmeats. She was a small but exceedingly docile animal; and seemed to enjoy the sort of food with which she was indulged with a particular gusto, swinging her body with a regular oscillatory movement, and twisting her trunk up and down with ceaseless activity. The order having been given her to kneel, the two friends mounted; and, accompanied by a few attendants, skilful in the management of the hunt, the party moved forward into an open park, in which several blue-skinned buffaloes and humped bullocks, with here and there a few deer, were seen endeavouring to find a cool place in the shadows of the trees. The day was excessively hot; and the oppressive sultriness of the atmosphere seemed to be felt by every living thing, except the mosquitoes, who flew about in myriads, plaguing both man and beast. In passing a large tank the cattle were frequently seen rushing into it, where they would remain with nothing but their noses above the water, in hopes of escaping from those tormenting insects; but Fortyfolios appeared to be the especial object of their attacks, for his hands were constantly employed in trying to drive them from his face. They passed many clumps of lofty cocoa-nut trees, in which troops of monkeys were skipping about from branch to branch, and chattering at the hunters with more volubility than harmony; and, after proceeding along fields of rice, indigo, and Indian corn, surrounded by hedges of aloes and bamboo, they approached a marsh, watered by a branch of the Ganges, in which several large crocodiles, troops of adjutants, and different species of snakes were observed.

"There's plenty of game here, you see!" remarked Sir Curry to his companions. "But it's wonderful the difficulty I have to preserve it; poaching prevails to a great extent in spite of the severity of our game laws."

No reply was made to the observation; and the party passed on, making their way with great difficulty through a forest of banyans, occasionally taking a shot at a stray jackal or a wandering vulture, till they descended a steep declivity, overgrown with thick underwood, over which trees of immense proportions spread their gigantic branches.

"Now we shall soon beat up the game," said Sir Curry: "we are entering a famous preserve of tigers. About half a mile further in the jungle we shall come to the very place where I lost poor Lord Muligatawny. Very interesting spot."

Fortyfolios at least did not seem to care for the interest of the place, and he regretted ever having left the safe quarters of Sir Curry Rajah's country-house, to wander on the back of an elephant through marshes, and forests, and jungles, infested with every species of venomous and savage creatures.

"I cannot see what pleasure there can be in exposing one's life in this way. It's the most foolish thing I ever heard of," said he to his companion.

"The ancients were much greater fools, don't you see," replied Tourniquet. "They would break their necks after a wretched fox."

"But the fox couldn't eat the hunter, and the tiger can," added the other seriously.

"Then there is the greater necessity for killing the tiger, don't you see," rejoined the doctor.

"But why not exterminate the breed? They must be very destructive to the flocks and herds as well as to human beings who happen to fall in their way; yet this man actually preserves them for the sake of the sport they afford," said the professor, with unfeigned astonishment.

"Just so did the ancients with their foxes," replied his companion. "They were very destructive to the poultry of the neighbouring farmers; they were perfectly worthless; their skins were of no value, and their flesh not eatable; yet they were carefully preserved for the sport they afforded."

"A tiger!" exclaimed Sir Curry, who was a little in advance of the party, as he pointed to some animal, the form of which could not be clearly distinguished, stealing through the high grass and reeds with which they were surrounded. Several shots were fired at him; but he bounded away as if unhurt, and the elephants proceeded in pursuit.

"A tiger!" again shouted their host, and another was observed making off in a contrary direction; but he escaped before a gun could be discharged.

Oriel Porphyry began to feel a little excited, and took more interest in the hunt than he had previously experienced.

"Oh!" exclaimed Fortyfolios, as loud as he could scream; and, upon looking round to observe what was the matter, the hunters beheld a large monkey, as the professor was passing underneath the branch of a tree, swinging by his tail, dart down, and snatch the straw hat that Fortyfolios wore to shield his head from the sun's rays, with which he made an immediate retreat, grinning and chattering among his companions as if congratulating himself on the cleverness by which he had acquired the prize. The whole troop were immediately in commotion, scrambling with one another for possession of the spoil; till the thief, finding he was likely to lose the result of his dexterity, placed the hat on his own head, and darted off, from branch to branch, with inconceivable rapidity, pursued by the other monkeys with a chorus of yells absolutely deafening.

Fortyfolios looked the very picture of mute despair when he found his bald head exposed to the attacks of the relentless mosquitoes, and was obliged to bind it with a handkerchief. His disquietude did not decrease, when, a few paces farther on, his eyes fell upon the form of a monstrous snake, twined round the stem of an immense tree, which, with arched head, glaring eyes, and protruded sting, seemed about to spring upon the unhappy professor.

"Plenty of game here, gentlemen; capital preserve," observed Sir Curry very coolly.

"Heaven preserve me!" emphatically exclaimed Fortyfolios, trembling in every joint.

Tourniquet fired at the monster, and he immediately glided away into the deepest recesses of the jungle.

"A tiger!" shouted Sir Curry, as one made its appearance within a few yards of his elephant. Oriel fired, and hit him. Sir Curry fired at the same time, and lodged a bullet in his shoulder. The animal, smarting with the pain and howling with rage, made a spring at Sir Curry, which brought him within reach of his "tiger-slayer," as he called it; and a ferocious blow, well directed, sent him with another howl to the feet of the elephant, who kept him between her hind legs and her fore legs till she had kicked him to death.

"Fine beast!" said Sir Curry Rajah, noticing its size; "but this place is famous for such game. By the bye, this is the identical spot in which I lost poor Lord Muligatawny. He was sitting on his elephant just where sits our friend the professor----"

"Oh!" groaned Fortyfolios.

"When he fell into the jaws of the tiger."

The professor shuddered and looked very pale.

"A tiger!" shouted Sir Curry.

"Murder!" screamed Fortyfolios; and if Tourniquet had not laid hold of him he would have tumbled off his seat.

"I'm surprised a man of your sense should show so much fear, don't you see," observed the doctor.