The Press. — London, England, 1853-06-25 00:00:00

Jun 25, 1853. fixing upon Christine a calm, motherly, and serious look, bald : _ _ M " My child,— .• These words recalled to the young girl's recollec• lion the happy days when her tuothor used thus to ad. dress her. " My child, the words I will are never spoken in this place. God alone wino, and we obey. lie not alarmed no engagements are entered into here except voluntarily; at present this convent is for you only a retreat selected by your father. lf, after having listened to the voices winch will speak to you of Ood, you continue to weep as you now weep, the gates shall be opened, and I will restore you to your father ; till then obey as we all obey." "My ring, my poor ring !" mournfully continued Christme, " all that remains to me of Herbert ! " "There are better links here between souls, my child. Prayer is a better remembrancer than all visible signs to those who can think of each other without remorse. And this hair chain which is around your neck?" " It is my mother's hair ! " exclaimed Christine ; " even here I can kiss it and cover it with my tears ! " " Here you are nearer heaven, where your mother is, than you were when living in the world; but here even this token, my child, must he laid at the feet of God. A Iss►tulante can wear no earthly ornament." " Alas! alas ! " exclaimed Christine, " there will remain nothing to me on earth—neither the beings whom I loved, nor the objects which I loved on their account ! " "Give me the ring-1 will return it to you if you leave us. As to your mother's hair, listen to me : at the ex tremity of the cloisters there are excavated in the thickness of the wall several small chapels where, every spring, we are in the habit of bringing the first fruits of the year ; it is sometimes permitted to place there relies dear to our hearts. Go and deposit there your mother's hair ; there you can see it and pray before the altar which eon. thins it." Then the uncle, William Van Amberg, a character painted as full of human tenderness, and drawn with great subtlety, comes to de liver Christine. We take for granted, from the tone of the composition, that the authoress is a Roman Catholic. Nevertheless, her picture of life in a convent, even painted en bean, will revolt all readers of Protestant convictions and Teutonic blood. The formalism of conventual existence, and its effects upon the human soul, are de scribed with singular force in this tale ; and we have but little doubt that there is as much of " actuality" in the sufferings and yearn ings of poor Christine Van Amberg, im mured by her father, us in that epic of nigger manity, " Uncle Tom." We have nut space for describing the other interesting tales in this volume, called " Resignation," and " The loge Doctor." Before long our cheap pub lishers will be circulating them far and wide. Narratire of a Journey round the World. By F. Gerstaecker. London : Hurst and Blaekett. WE make the acquaintance of M. Gerstaeeker as he is leaving the Weser, a passenger on hoard the barque Talisman for California. On his arrival at Rio he did not like the idea of the long and dreary voyage round Cape Horn, and therefore decided upon going to Buenos Ayres, and then making his way, in (spite of evil reports of the Guachos, the Indians, and the impassable Andes, to Valparaiso, there to rejoin his ship. The account of this expedition, in the saddle and at full gallop the whole time, tills the greater part of the first volume. As a personal account it is well written, though the author has an eye for nothing beyond the occurrences of the moment. For this reason it should be of greater interest, even if of less value as an authority, than Sir Francis Head's detached notes of his scamper across the Pam pas. And it certainly loses nothing in the way o f c loseness of observation and clearness of narrative by the comparison. The hardships and dangers of the route across the Andes are stern enough. We are not sure, from our recollection of Sir Francis Head's account, that the author has not made the most of theta; but, with every allowance for some involuntary amplification of the dangers one has seen, enough remains in the following description to show that the mountain pass is no turnpike road : At first the path—for it was bat a narrow mole hack— led up as slowly and on as broad and comfortable a slope as we could wish for ; but as the sides of the mountain drew closer and closer together, the path began to run by deep and ennobling banks, and the mules with great diffi culty picked their steps. Ue now passed places where to our left the abyss lay many hundred feet deep, while on the right impending rocks hung high above us. Rut so gradually did the path alter, so little by little did the ridge narrow, and the steep es . lge of the precipice draw nearer, that I did not notice it at attention being taken up by the scenery. THE PRESS. Here I saw the first condor, the giant vulture of the Cordilleras, hovering just above our heads. It altered its course in descending, and dew (over towards the other aide of the hollow. which seemed to mu hardly half a mile dis tant, but the bird became smaller and smaller, appearing at last not much larger than a crow, long before the passage was crossed. Then I felt more than saw the vast ness of these mountains, and 1 was going to stop my mule, to have a fairer view, when a call from my guide wanted me to beware and look well to my path. The path, indeed, had become so narrow that it seemed to me, as it wound itself round a projecting rock, abso lutely to terminate. I could see nothing more than a thin light streak, as if drawu with a piece of chalk, and I could not believe that this was our path. The rock round which it went did not show the least cut or notch where even a goat could have planted its feet, let alone our clumsy mules. The little crumbling pieces of stone which our mules hoofs kicked over the precipice made me sensible of the danger, falling straight down to a depth that my blood froze to think of. lint this was nut the place to stop at ; and 1 observed :losely the cautious manner in which my guide raised him *elf in his right stirrup, not doubting that we were now at the spot of which he had told me before, and where mules and riders were often thrown over. 1 was therefore careful not to irritate my mule ut a place where it certainly knew better how to go than I did—accidents having happened from travellers pulling their bridles at the wrong tune. My guide went on very coolly along a trail where mules bad to keep the very edge of the precipice. Mules fte opwittly carry a load over this track, when they are very careful not to knock against the overhanging ruck, as the least push would send them over the precipice. Our mules, it is true, had no load, but they were accustomed to car rying one,and therefore kept the extreme edo.,w, to my great discomposure. lint I left it entirely to its own instinct, only lifting my lett foot in the stirrup as 1 saw the vaqui auto do, so that in case of an accident 1 might throw my. self off its back, and cling to the rock. lint why, the reader may ask, did you not get off the mule at once, and pass dangerous places on foot ? Simply, my reader, in the first place, because the danger is the same for many wiles ; and secondly, because those men who peas their lives in leading travellens over these mountains know best where to walk and where to ride, and I followed the example my guide set me. Nor, to tell the truth, *lid 1 at the moment think of anything but my mule, as he moved slowly step by step round the yawning abyss, with twareely three inches to spare on either side. As we proceeded, the path got still narrower, the abyss seemed deeper, and, looking down once, between the mule's side and my stir nips, I saw below in the deeßbollow a perfect heap of ske letons, mules that must have tumbled down since the last flod, or their bones would have been washed away. In my horror I forgot the warning of the %sequisite, and grasping the reins of my lt, tried to tent it away from that edge, which seemed to me as if it must crumble beneath its next step. My imprudence was near being fatal to me, foe, turning the head of my mule away from the precipice it lost itsisure footing, stepped aside, and, striking the saddle hags against the rawk, it stumbled forward, and—nu, dear reader, no such thing—we did not nimble. The mule planted its fore hoofs on a firm part of t h e crumbling ledge, elk lifted itself up again, just as a smell piece of stone, loosened by the effort, fell noiselessly from the path, and, springing from under us, toppled ever, anal stniek long 'Memento with a doll hollow sound into the deep. I need not too ashamed to say that this little incident made one thimble, and I thought the blond became stag nant in my veins. lint. mules are splendid animate for such a route ; and, whether for the sake of their rider air their town, they proceed with the utnitost *cauti ,as I had now learnt from experience. From that moment I left my mule to do as he pleased, anal it carried me safely over. .lust at the end of the passage where the path again turned round a nick, which hid the guide from view, I reached a Know-drift, or rather a ledge of about ten or twelve pact*, where a quantity of snow had drifted from a narrow gulch ; and a space not six inches in width, and even that sloping down, was the only footing left. Even the mule 110 W came to a stand ; 1 pressed his thinks with my heels to urge him 011, but the two peons, who came close behind, called to ma) to alight here, and not to attempt to pass that place in the saddle. At the game time the guide appested on the other side of the rock, anal 1 saw that he was on foot ; but how to get down on such a phew was a difficulty. lln the left side I should have stepped down at least a couple of hun dred feet; theref ore - I must try the other. Throwing my lag with a sudden jerk over the inulea neck, I slipped down against the rock, the mule pressing as hard against me as itcould to prevent my 'welling it down the preripitie. I dodged beneath his head, and with the bridle grouped in my hand, led the way over the snow-drift. At the Californian diggings M. Crerstaecker arrived in due tune, and, like the great mAjority, drew a blank in that lottery. The time had long been past, even upon his arrival there, for making fortunes in a week or two by digging. By speculation it is still, and always will be, posstbie. But so it is everywhere else. In time, however, our author looks forward to a steadier, more regular, and' more continuous method of working, and then, " if they stick to work perseveringly and industriously, through hard work it be, they will earn good wages." From San Francisco to Honolulu—from Honolulu to Sydney—we regret that our space will not allow us to follow M. Gerstaecker to these points, or to accompany him in his ad venturous attempt to make his way to Adelaide by the Murray river, an attempt beset by diffi culties which no European has as yet overcome. 185 To Adelaide, however, M. Gerstaecker did get, though ho wan obliged to abandon the Murray and make his way through the bush. Making no great stay there, he proceeded to Java, and his account of these sunny coasts, with their nodding cocoas and waving palm c►ow►►s, their varied and picturesque denizens, form, to our thinking, the most attractive part of the book. There is also a chapter on Japan. with some shrewd guessing at the issue of the American attempts to get a footing there, which we had thought of extracting for the info►mation of our readers, but we prefer the following as a specimen, a favourable one, of M. Gerstaeeker's manner of telling us what he has seen : Taking a walk one day through the Chinese quarters •-•• and I liked to be there, for I saw and learned more in that crowded and busy place than anywhere else—l met an old wrinkled fellow, in a rather fantastic dress, with a lam book or a kind of rolled mat under one arm, and a little Write...age with two rice birds, called " inseparable)," in the other, while that hand the arm of which carried the book held open one of the common paper umbrellas. He was nodding to the shopkeepers around, all of whom seemed to know hint ; and rolling through the street, striving to get his tat body along in the meet commodious manner, yet looking about him searchingly out of his small, grey, and lively, ay, cunning, eyes. He wore a swill black cap, with a black button upon it, and a tremendous tail swinging down behind. A bniwn•red overiaeket, and light blue and very wide pantaloons, covered his outer man, and an enor mous pair of Asses were MIMI his feet. Just when he bad 1,00,44 me, he sat down upon a pile of lumber lying there, and a crowd soon collecting about him, he put his book be side him and the cage on the top of it. The two little birds in it seemed very hungry ; they were fluttering shout unceasingly, and had only some ,water in their cage, but not a grain of anything to feed upon. He had not sat them+ unit minute, when a young woman, passing through the crowd, to which I now also lielongeol,aaked him some thing in the Malay language I did not understand. She most certainly came from the mountains, having the sorroise tied round her hire —not over the breasts, as the women of the lower hula, in a very ungainly fashion, have it—and another cloth threw,' loosely over her left shoulder. The old fellow, after listening to her words, sat ruminating a good while upon the weed with his finger upon his n o se, and looking steadily down. The crowd around moved not, you could have lutiwil a pin imp, and the eyes of the young WOMMI glistened in painful expectation. Only a couple of young Chinese, eiweleioi young dogs, who do hot believe in anything neither upon nor 'shove the earth, whined et each other, and shook their tails. At last the "wise man " leek the book or case upon his lap, and after palling out of it a quantity of pieces of pasteboard, with a eolonred drawing upon one side, he opened slowly one part of the nage (this having a partition in the middle, disidhig the whole cage in two equal halves), and one bird came quickly out. Spreading out the cards, upon which the well-taught little creator' jumped, the old man spoke a few worth to it —I believe in Chinese—end the bird °aught first MP CAM and pulled it about half up, and theut a second one in the same manner ; after which exploit, knowing now it had done enough, it. juniptsl upon its master's hand. The young woman was standing in the meantime in run and anxious expectation of the result; her eyes darting from the prophet to the two cards which were to tell her the fate most likely of a loved person; and from the cards again to the eyes. of the prophet, who, however, seemed not in the leant to think of her, but, speaking a few friendly sonde to thelbird, feel it with Home grains of rice, and ,only them putting it heck again into its cage, took up the ominous cards and turned them. The one ietnre, with rather coarse Mourn, represented a dark suid lonesome part of some thicket, with the trunk of a broken-down eiwissuut.tree; the other, a man attacked by a tiger. The tiger, standing on his hind Irge, opened his jaws at the man, while he, holding the card se ready to strike in his right hand, stretched nut his left elbow, as to ward off with it the nosh of his furious enemy. " Matjan! matjan kassiang I" the bystanders pitifltlly exidalnwil awl the wise nor, after looking a weed while at the pietism's, pulled sit Ad and ninelentwd hook, with Chinese characters, out of his pocket, and commenced turning its leaves, while the woman's eyes hung in speech bv4s fear npon his bpi. At last he was ready to translate the derision of fate into Malay; and though I could not uuderstand what he said, as he ne', too many well I did not. know, there was mu doubt that his prophecy had been a feithful one for sorrow, for, while he read, many a how mur mured " kaesiimg"—an expression of the deepest pity with the natives, and really not to lee translated in its powerful awl heartfelt meaning—parted the lips of the multitude aronnil. The woman did not say a wend—appailqady she did not even breathe, only with quick and restless hand she held out to the Chinese—who counted the pieces carefully —is handful of copper &its, 'dipped out of the ring, which /*mil willingly for leer, and disappeared with quick steps a few xeconds afterwards in one of the numberless by streets ; while that nweal of a Chinon.., who had filled a pare and true heart with sorrow and pain ant of avarice or sow , took op his traps and rolled, with a fat benevolent look, down the street again. A Treatise on the La►r, and Practice relating to Letters Patent fi►r Inventions. By J. Paxton Norman, Esq. London : Butterworth. Iv inan has any natural rights beyond the free use of his own physical, intellectual, and moral