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books-0000.json.gz:1152 | LABOR'S MARTYRS
Haymarket
1887
Sacco and Vanzetti
1927
By Vito Marcantonio
Introduction by Wm. Z. Foster
Introduction
By William Z. Foster
On November 11, 1937, it is just fifty years since Albert R. Parsons,
August Spies, Adolph Fischer, George Engel and Louis Lingg, leaders of the
great eight-hour day national strike of 1886, were executed in Chicago on
the framed-up charge of having organized the Haymarket bomb explosion that
caused the death of a number of policemen. These early martyrs to labor's
cause were legally lynched because of their loyal and intelligent struggle
for and with the working class. Their murder was encompassed by the same
capitalist forces which, in our day, we have seen sacrifice Tom Mooney,
Sacco and Vanzetti, the Scottsboro boys, McNamara, and a host of other
champions of the oppressed.
Parsons and his comrades were revolutionary trade unionists, they were
Anarcho-Syndicalists rather than Anarchists. In the early 'eighties, when
they developed their great mass following, the mass of the workers were
just learning to organize to resist the fierce exploitation of a ruthless
capitalism. The great eight-hour strike movement led by the "Chicago
Anarchists" gave an enormous impulse to trade union organization
everywhere and it was for this that the employing interests had them
hanged. When, for example, the older Chicago unions nowadays go out on
parade on Labor Day, banner after banner bears the historic dale of 1886.
Indeed, the A. F. of L. was practically established nationally at that
time. Although the A. F. of L. had been founded in 1881, it never got a
real hold among the masses until the big strike movement of 1886, which
established the unions in man pew trades and industries and brought about
the reorganization and renaming of the A. F. of L.
In many respects 1937 bears a kinship to 1886. Once again labor is making
a vast surge forward, but on a much higher political level. In 1886, and
the years following, the best that the working class could do in the way
of organization was to produce the craft union movement, which,
notwithstanding all its failings, was an advance in liveability at least,
over the amorphous and confused Knights of Labor. But now, the working
class, grown stronger, more experienced and more ideologically developed,
has given birth to the C.I.O. movement, with its industrial unionism,
trade union democracy, organized political action and generally advanced
conception of the workers' struggle. The militant trade union movement of
today, heading towards a broad People's Front, is the direct lineal
descendant of the great strike movement of the 1886 Chicago martyrs.
Not only has labor matured very much in the fifty years that have passed
since 1886, but so also has the capitalist system that gives it birth. In
1886 American capitalism was young, strong and growing. It had before it a
long period of unparalleled expansion, during which the workers became
afflicted with many illusions about the possibilities of prosperity under
capitalism. Now, however, American capitalism, like the world capitalist
system of which it is a part, has exhausted its constructive role of
building the industries. It is now obsolete and gradually sinking into
decay. Industrial crises follow each other with increasing severity and
the masses are becoming more and more pauperized. The growth of fascism
and war is the attempt of this outworn capitalist system to keep in
existence although history has imperatively summoned it to leave the stage
and to make way for the next order, socialism.
The modern working class, although it has not learned all the needed
lessons of the situation in which it finds itself, is nevertheless rapidly
becoming free from capitalist illusions and is reorganizing itself
accordingly, industrially and politically. Of this renaissance, the C.I.O.
is the greatest mass expression.
The Haymarket martyrs were bold pioneer fighters for socialism and they
paid with their lives for their devotion and clear-sightedness. Although
they sleep all these years in Waldheim Cemetery, their work was not in
vain and they are not forgotten. In keeping green the memories of these
proletarian heroes, the International Labor Defense, the Communist Party
and other progressive and revolutionary organizations are preserving one
of the most glorious of all American revolutionary traditions. The lives
of Parsons, Fischer, Engel, Spies and Lingg, and Sacco and Vanzetti, must
be made more than ever the inspiration of the proletarian youth. We must
indeed realize in life the noble last words of Spies, spoken as he stood
on the gallows with the hangman's noose around his neck:
_"There will come a time when our silence will be more powerful than
the voices you are strangling today."_
Labor's Martyrs
By Vito Marcantonio
President, International Labor Defense
_"These are my ideas. They constitute a part of myself. I cannot divest
myself of them, nor would I if I could. And if you think that one can
crush out these ideas that are gaining ground more and more every day;
if you think you can crush them out by sending us to the gallows; if you
would once more have people suffer the penalty of death because they
have dared to tell the truth--and I defy you to show that we have told a
lie--if death is the penalty for proclaiming the truth, then I will
proudly and defiantly pay the costly price."_--(August Spies, just
before he was sentenced to death on October 9, 1886.)
The man who spoke these words had no illusions. He knew that the court he
was facing was a hostile court, an enemy court, a court determined to
stamp out all that he stood for and believed in. He knew, also, that the
truth of which he spoke was much bigger than the little man who sat in a
black gown waiting for him to finish so that he could pronounce the brutal
words that would mean his death on the gallows. He knew that the movement
he represented was bigger than the forces which were trying to crush it
and that it would survive.
Survive it did--to become one of the most powerful factors on the American
scene today, one of the most vital factors in the extension and
preservation of democracy and the rights for which he laid down his life.
And why should we venerate the memory of this man and the other victims of
the Haymarket tragedy? Not simply because they were brave men. Not simply
because they had the courage of their convictions and did not weaken in
the face of death. But because their fight is still going on today,
strengthened by their magnificent pioneer work, because of the foundation
they helped lay for the American labor movement of the present day.
Back in 1886, that movement was still almost in its infancy. Noble
attempts to build it had been made in the days of our Revolutionary
forefathers. But all they did was to lay the groundwork, to drive in the
first piles on which the rest of the structure could be built. The man of
the early 'eighties of the last century began the actual construction.
One of the main issues around which they rallied the working people of
this country was the fight for the eight-hour day. Albert Parsons, only 36
when he was executed, had spent more than ten years actively organizing
American workers. He was a printer, a member of the powerful International
Typographical Union which even in those days had over 60,000 members. He
was a member of the Knights of Labor, the first great trade union center in
American history. He was one of the outstanding spokesmen of the
eight-hour day. An able orator, he toured the United States, soap-boxing,
lecturing and recruiting supporters for the movement.
By his side was August Spies, a German worker from the metal trades
industry, who carried the fight to the Central Trades Body of Chicago to
which he was a delegate. Around them were many others: Adolph Fischer,
George Engel who came to America as so many of our immigrant forefathers
did because he believed "_he would live a free man, in a free country_."
Oscar Neebe, Samuel Fielden, Michael Schwab and young Louis Lingg, only
twenty-three at the time of his death.
Their efforts bore fruit. The movement for the eight-hour day gained
momentum. Union after union discussed the problem and went on record in
favor of fighting for it, until finally the slogan became: General Strike
for the eight-hour day. The date set was May 1, 1886, a day that has now
become the international fighting holiday of labor.
In Chicago, the May Day strike was a great success. Those who remember it
and took part in it tell us that thousands of workers filled the streets.
Some paraded, others gave out handbills, others went in committees from
factory to factory calling the workers out on strike. Despite all the
efforts of a hostile press to whip up hatred for the workers, to alienate
the middle class, to spread the fear of disorder and raise the bogey of
revolution (much as Mayor Shields of Johnstown so unsuccessfully tried to
do when he attempted to introduce the menace of vigilantism into
Johnstown, Pa., during the recent steel-strike with his black helmeted
monkeys), the day passed in absolute peace.
One Chicago daily, the _Mail_, actually carried an editorial addressed
directly to Parsons and Spies. It called them every vile name that the
censorship would pass and stated that any disorder which might occur
should be laid at their door.
In many industries the workers decided to stay out on strike after May 1.
One of these was the McCormick Reaper Plant in Chicago. On May 3, August
Spies was invited by the strike committee to address the pickets at the
factory gate. Just as he finished speaking, the police charged down upon
the assembled workmen with clubs and guns. First reports had it that six
were killed outright and scores wounded. Chicago papers were quick to
point out that _only_ two had lost their lives!
Spies rushed back to the office of the German radical paper, the
_Arbeiter-Zeitung_, of which he was the editor. Hastily he wrote up a
leaflet denouncing the police attack, calling for revenge "_if you are the
sons of your grandsires who have shed their blood to free you_." It ended
with a dramatic call to arms, which Spies upon re-reading ordered stricken
out. The typesetter left it in and at the Haymarket trial which followed
it provided the prosecution with some of its most valuable ammunition in
firing the hatred of the jury.
That same evening a committee of trade unionists decided to hold a protest
meeting in the Haymarket Square in Chicago, on the night of May 4. Several
thousands people attended. Spies opened the meeting and stated its
purpose: to discuss the question of the eight-hour day and to protest the
police shootings at the McCormick plant. Parsons, who had just returned to
the city from a speaking tour was hurriedly sent for and rushed over with
his wife, Lucy Parsons, and their two children, to lend a hand.
The speakers stood on an empty wagon for a platform and addressed the
crowd for about two hours. Reporters covering the meeting, instructed to
take down only the "most inflammatory" remarks made, testified from the
witness stand at the subsequent trial as to the mildness of the speeches.
In the audience was the mayor of Chicago, Carter Harrison, who was quickly
satisfied by its peaceful nature and went in person to Police Captain
Bonfield with instructions to call off police reserves and send his men
home. They would not be needed.
Just as the last speaker, Samuel Fielden, was saying, "_In
conclusion----_," a good part of the crowd had been driven home by rain
which began falling when he started his speech--a squad of armed police
descended upon the Haymarket Square. Mumbling orders for the crowd to
disperse, they fell upon the assembled men and women with clubs and guns.
At that moment, someone--to this day unknown--threw a bomb into the midst
of the meeting, killing one policeman outright and wounding scores of
people.
These are the facts of the Haymarket meeting and the events which lead up
to it. What the press made of it was the prelude to one of the rawest
frame-up trials in American history.
All the leading radicals in the city were rounded up and arrested. Many
more were indicted in their absence and heavy rewards were posted for
their capture. Among these was Albert Parsons, who had left before the end
of the meeting, and had fled to a safe hiding place when the man-hunt
began. The newspapers from coast to coast, our worthy _New York Times_ not
excepted, howled for their blood, raved about an Anarchist plot to blow up
Chicago, seize the government, murder, arson, pillage, rape--the whole
program which William Randolph Hearst has made only too familiar to the
American public.
On June 21, 1886, the trial began. Eight men were singled out as
victims--August Spies, Albert Parsons, George Engel, Adolph Fischer, Louis
Lingg, Samuel Fielden, Michael Schwab and Oscar Neebe. Efforts to postpone
it until the hysteria had died down failed. The men who came forward to
defend the Haymarket victims were conservative lawyers headed by one,
Captain Black. Convinced of their innocence and enraged by the efforts to
railroad them to the gallows, they did their best to provide adequate
defense. But they had illusions about the justice available in the
American courts. They planned, for instance, to have Parsons walk into the
courtroom and surrender himself, asking for a fair trial! This they were
sure would make a "good impression" on the judge and jury!
The judge, Judge Gary, gave one of the most shameful performances that
this country has ever seen, and it has seen plenty from its judges. He
helped choose the jury---to make sure it would convict. He questioned men
who stated they had already formed an opinion about the case, had definite
prejudices against Anarchists, Socialists and all radicals, were not
certain they could render an impartial verdict--and ruled that they were
not disqualified! He said from the bench that "_Anarchists, Socialists and
Communists were as pernicious and unjustifiable as horse thieves_," and,
finally, in charging the jury, that even though the state had not proved
that any of the eight men on trial had actually thrown the bomb, they were
nevertheless guilty of a conspiracy to commit murder.
The bigoted speeches of the prosecutor Grinnell, and his aides, are
equalled only by the speeches of the prosecution in the Mooney case, the
Herndon case, the Scottsboro case. In other words, they established a fine
precedent for all anti-labor prosecutions to follow.
The trial lasted 63 days. The jury was out only three hours. That's all
the time they needed to examine the mountain of evidence presented in
those months. It is true that most of it was perjured, framed-up evidence
prepared by the prosecution, wild-eyed stories of the men leaping from the
wagon which was really a barricade, flaming pistols aimed at the police,
etc. The rest was quotations from their writings and speeches made years
before the Haymarket meeting was ever dreamed of. The verdict was a
foregone conclusion: death for all but Oscar Neebe and for him 15 years in
the penitentiary.
The judge thanked the jury from the bench and announced that there were
carriages outside the door waiting to take them home. The press of the
entire nation congratulated Chicago upon having such upright and
courageous citizens to serve on juries. Chicago papers collected a purse
of $100,000 to divide among them as a reward for work well done.
The case was appealed to the Illinois State Supreme Court which, on March
18, 1887, found no errors on which it could reverse the verdict. This
despite affidavits proving that the jury was chosen from a carefully
selected panel of enemies of the men by the bailiff and the judge and many
other flagrant violations of civil rights, too many to enumerate.
And then came the appeal to the United States Supreme Court. Old as they
are, none of the present incumbents were then sitting on the bench. But
their worthy forerunners were equally reactionary. They found no
constitutional grounds for reversal! Of course not, even though the right
of free speech and assembly had been trampled underfoot at the Haymarket
Square, the right to a fair trial made into a cruel farce.
On November 11, 1887, Albert Parsons, August Spies, Adolph Fischer and
George Engel were led out to the gallows. At the last moment, yielding to
the terrific pressure of protest which had been developed by the defense
in the last months, and a great wave of general sympathy with the men
throughout the country, Governor Oglesby commuted the sentences of Fielden
and Schwab to life imprisonment. Two days before the execution--when the
defense committee had mobilized a great movement in Chicago--tables for
signing petitions to the governor had been set up in the city streets, the
able police of Chicago, worthy ancestors of those police who murdered
eleven steel strikers at the Republic plant on Memorial Day, 1937,
suddenly discovered a bunch of "bombs" in the jail where the men were
held. On the next day they announced that Louis Lingg had committed
suicide by blowing his own head off with a small bomb!
Hitler used the Reichstag fire. Chicago used "bombs."
The men died bravely, like the heroes that they were. Spies' last words
spoken on the gallows were prophetic: "_The day will come when our
silence will be more powerful than the voices you are throttling today_."
He was right, righter than he knew. That silence is making itself heard in
the auto factories of Michigan, in the steel mills of Pennsylvania and
Ohio, on the docks, in the mines, in textile factories. The eight-hour day
is a reality. The defense of the rights of labor is a reality. The great
movement for industrial unionism and democracy which they dreamed of is a
reality--in the C.I.O.
They did not die in vain. Taught by the lessons of the Haymarket tragedy,
such an organization as the International Labor Defense has been built by
the workers and progressive people of America, to stand guard and prevent
such legal murders today. Tom Mooney is still alive, J. B. McNamara and
Warren Billings; Angelo Herndon is free, four Scottsboro boys are
free--though all were threatened by the same fate as the victims of the
Haymarket martyrs. Reaction still takes a heavy toll of victims, but it
must reckon with the might of organized, united mass defense represented
and organized by the I.L.D. For example, the Nine Old Men who have made
the United States Supreme Court the stronghold of reaction with the same
callousness as their predecessors, arrogantly refused to review the appeal
in the case of Haywood Patterson, one of the innocent Scottsboro boys. But
the fight goes on, until all the remaining five are free.
We are dedicated to the cause--their cause--of freedom and democracy, to
the struggle for justice and defense of the rights and liberties of the
people.
* * * * *
There are two other labor martyrs who must be honored at the same time as
the Haymarket heroes. The tenth anniversary of their death coincides with
the fiftieth anniversary of the former in this year of 1937.
Again let us listen to the words of one who faced his doom:
"_I am suffering because I am a radical, and indeed I am a radical; I
have suffered because I was an Italian, and indeed I am an Italian; I
have suffered more for my family and for my beloved than for myself; but
I am so convinced to be right that you could execute me two times, and
if I could be reborn two other times I would live again to do what I
have done already_." (Bartolomeo Vanzetti, just before he was sentenced
to death on April 10, 1927.)
To me those words are particularly poignant. For I am an Italian, and
proud to be of the same people that produced such a great spirit as
Vanzetti, the descendant of Garibaldi, the forerunner of those heroic
anti-fascist brothers who are today fighting Fascism and Mussolini in
Italy and in Spain.
Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti were poor Italian workers. Both came
to this country like all our countrymen in search of peace and work and
plenty. Both found only hard work and hard knocks. Sacco was a
shoe-worker. Vanzetti had followed many trades after his arrival here in
the summer of 1908. He worked in mines, mills, factories. Finally he
landed in a cordage plant in Plymouth, Massachusetts. That was the last
factory job he held. For here, as in all the others, he talked union and
organization, and organized a successful strike. After that, he was
blacklisted for good and had to make a living peddling fish to his Italian
neighbors in the little town known as the cradle of liberty.
During the years 1919 and 1920 two phenomena made their appearance in the
state of Massachusetts. One was national, the other local. The first was
Mitchell Palmer's red delirium which caused him to hunt radicals with the
same zeal but much more frenzy than the old Massachusetts witch hunters in
every corner of the land. The second was a wave of payroll robberies
obviously executed by a skilled and experienced gang of bandits.
In April, 1920, both these currents crossed the paths of Sacco and
Vanzetti. Their friend Andrea Salsedo was arrested by Palmer's "heroes,"
tortured, held incommunicado for 11 weeks and thrown from the eleventh
story of the Department of Justice office in New York City to his death.
This happened on May 4, 1920. Early in April the Slater and Merrill Shoe
Factory paymaster was murdered in Bridgewater, Massachusetts, and some
$15,000 carried off. On May 5, Sacco and Vanzetti were arrested in South
Braintree, Massachusetts, and held on suspicion of being the guilty
bandits. After he nabbed them, Chief of Police Stewart discovered, with
the aid of Department of Justice agents, that he had two dangerous
radicals marked for "_watching_" in Department files in Washington.
What happened after that, though it lasted seven long and torturous years,
is fairly familiar to the American people. It ended ten years ago in the
electric chair at Charlestown Jail in Massachusetts. The finest minds in
the world, the greatest masses of workers and their friends, made their
protest known to the American government, through its embassies, before
its government buildings, in the streets and roadways of America.
But Judge Webster Thayer, who bragged, "_Did you see what I did to those
anarchistic bastards_," disregarded all the evidence proving their
innocence, poisoned the minds of the already hatred-ridden jury against
them, with speeches about the soldier boys in France, the flag,
"consciousness of guilt," the perfidy of "foreigners." The witnesses for
the defense proved the innocence of Sacco and Vanzetti beyond the shadow
of a doubt. Italian housewives told of buying eels from Vanzetti on the
day of both crimes with which he was charged (another payroll robbery
committed on Christmas eve, 1919, was thrown in for good measure against
him, to secure that conviction first and bring him to trial for murder as
a convicted payroll robber). Sacco had an official from the Italian
Consulate in Boston to testify for him. He had been in Boston on the day
of the Bridgewater crime enquiring about a passport to Italy for himself,
his wife and child. The official couldn't forget him, because instead of a
passport photo he brought a big framed portrait of his whole family with
him!
Ballistic testimony from an expert who was a state witness was brought to
show that the fatal bullet was not Sacco's, but to no avail. New trials
were denied. The State Supreme Court upheld the murder verdict. The
governor upheld it. He appointed a special commission of professors headed
by President Lowell of Harvard, and they upheld it. Four justices of the
United States Supreme Court were contacted for a stay of execution. All
refused.
On August 22, 1927, Sacco and Vanzetti were legally murdered by the State
of Massachusetts. The tragedy of their untimely and cruel death is still
an open wound in the hearts of many of us who remember them as shining
spirits, as truly great men such as only the lowly of the earth can
produce.
We of the International Labor Defense call upon all the progressive
people in America today to help us honor their memories by helping us
fight the reaction, the bigotry, which brought about their death, by
helping us defend and protect the victims of the present and the future.
During the fifty years that have passed since 1887 the toll of victims has
grown. But though the road is red with the blood of these martyrs, the
triumphant march of labor towards progress and democracy has not been
halted. The example of steadfastness which they have set up before us has
strengthened us in our determination to carry on the fight in which they
lost their lives. On this anniversary, we give our pledge. It shall be
done. Reaction, fascism and the terror which it brings in its path shall
not pass. |
books-0000.json.gz:1411 | [Illustration: Front Cover]
[Illustration]
THE BOOK
OF
ENTERPRISE & ADVENTURE;
BEING AN
EXCITEMENT TO READING.
FOR
YOUNG PEOPLE.
A NEW AND CONDENSED EDITION.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ABSALON.
LONDON
1851.
PREFACE.
The object of this Volume is that of inducing young people to read, to
cultivate in them a habit of reading and reflection, and to excite the
imagination, the feelings, and the better emotions of their nature in a
pleasurable and judicious manner.
The pieces selected are such as will be likely to exert a beneficial
influence upon the reader, to inspire him with heroic enthusiasm, and to
lead him to despise danger.
In our perpetually migrating population, no one can tell who will not be
called upon to brave the vicissitudes of "flood and field;" and to show
how perils may be surmounted, and privations endured with energy and
patience, is to teach no unimportant lesson.
Nothing whatever has been introduced into this Volume, but such subjects
as will teach a dependence upon Divine Providence, in aid of
self-reliance and self-sacrifice, while details of war and bloodshed
have been studiously avoided.
THE EDITOR.
CONTENTS.
ARABIAN HOSPITALITY, ETC.
HOSPITALITY OF THE ARAB
HORRORS OF AFRICAN WARFARE
CROCODILE SHOOTING
REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF COURAGE IN A LADY
INDIAN FIELD SPORTS--
METHOD OF CATCHING BIRDS
THE HYENA
THE BEAR
SAGACITY OF THE ELEPHANT
ANECDOTES OF THE TIGER
DEATH OF SIR JOHN MOORE
PERSIAN TYRANNY
SKETCHES IN VIRGINIA--
ROCK BRIDGE
WIER'S CAVE
THE CHRISTIAN SLAVE
VIOLENT EARTHQUAKE IN CALABRIA
ESCAPE FROM A SHIP ON FIRE
ANECDOTES, ETC.--
THE ALBATROSS
VISIT TO A PENGUIN ROOKERY
THE SEA ELEPHANT
VISIT FROM THE NATIVES AT TERRA DEL FUEGO
CHILIAN MODE OF CAPTURING WILD HORSES
FIGHT BETWEEN A WHALE AND A KILLER
WAR DANCES OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS
HISTORY OF PADDY CONNEL
EXTRAORDINARY ESCAPE FROM DROWNING
ADVENTURE IN THE DESERT, AND MURDER OF A
SHEIKH
BOOK OF ENTERPRISE & ADVENTURE.
~Arabian Hospitality--African Warfare, &c.~
The following three extracts are from a work of considerable merit,
intitled "The Crescent and the Cross." It contains, not only much
valuable matter relative to Egypt and Abyssinia, but many interesting
anecdotes, of which we give a specimen.
HOSPITALITY OF THE ARAB.
In 1804, Osman Bardissy was the most influential of the Mameluke Beys,
and virtually governed Egypt. Mehemet Ali, then rising into power,
succeeded in embroiling this powerful old chief with Elfy Bey, another
of the Mamelukes. The latter escaped to England, where he was
favourably received, and promised assistance by our government against
Osman, who was in the French interests. At this time a Sheikh of Bedouin
stood high in Osman's confidence, and brought him intelligence that Elfy
had landed at Alexandria. "Go, then," said the old Bey, "surprise his
boat, and slay him on his way up the river; his spoil shall be your
reward." The Sheikh lay in wait upon the banks of the Delta, and slew
all the companions of the rival Bey: Elfy himself escaped in the
darkness, and made his way to an Arab encampment before sunrise. Going
straight to the Sheikh's tent, which is known by a spear standing in
front of it, he entered, and hastily devoured some bread that he found
there. The Sheikh was absent; but his wife exclaimed, on seeing the
fugitive, "I know you, Elfy Bey, and my husband's life, perhaps at his
moment, depends upon his taking yours. Rest now and refresh yourself,
then take the best horse you can find, and fly. The moment you are out
of our horizon, the tribe will be in pursuit of you." The Bey escaped
to the Thebaid, and the disappointed Sheikh presented himself to his
employer. Osman passionately demanded of him if it was true that his
wife had saved the life of his deadliest enemy, when in her power. "Most
true, praised be Allah!" replied the Sheikh, drawing himself proudly up,
and presenting a jewel-hilted dagger to the old Bey; "this weapon," he
continued, "was your gift to me in the hour of your favour; had I met
Elfy Bey, it should have freed you from your enemy. Had my wife betrayed
the hospitality of the tent, it should have drank her blood; and now,
you may use it against myself," he added, as he flung it at the
Mameluke's feet. This reverence for hospitality is one of the wild
virtues that has survived from the days of the patriarchs, and it is
singularly contrasted, yet interwoven with other and apparently opposite
tendencies. The Arab will rob you, if he is able; he will even murder
you, if it suits his purpose; but, once under the shelter of his tribe's
black tents, or having eaten of his salt by the wayside, you have as
much safety in his company as his heart's blood can purchase for you.
The Bedouins are extortionate to strangers, dishonest to each other, and
reckless of human life. On the other hand, they are faithful to their
trust, brave after their fashion, temperate, and patient of hardship and
privation beyond belief. Their sense of right and wrong is not founded
on the Decalogue, as may be well imagined, yet, from such principles as
they profess they rarely swerve. Though they will freely risk their
lives to steal, they will not contravene the wild rule of the desert. If
a wayfarer's camel sinks and dies beneath its burden, the owner draws a
circle round the animal in the sand, and follows the caravan. No Arab
will presume to touch that lading, however tempting. Dr. Robinson
mentions that he saw a tent hanging from a tree near Mount Sinai, which
his Arabs said had then been there a twelvemonth, and never would be
touched until its owner returned in search of it.
HORRORS OF AFRICAN WARFARE.
There appears to be a wild caprice amongst the institutions; if such
they may be called, of all these tropical nations. In a neighbouring
state to that of Abyssinia, the king, when appointed to the regal
dignity, retires into an island, and is never again visible to the eyes
of men but once--when his ministers come to strangle him; for it may not
be that the proud monarch of Behr should die a natural death. No men,
with this fatal exception, are ever allowed even to set foot upon the
island, which is guarded by a band of Amazons. In another border
country, called Habeesh, the monarch is dignified with the title of
Tiger. He was formerly Malek of Shendy, when it was invaded by Ismael
Pasha, and was even then designated by this fierce cognomen. Ismael,
Mehemet Ali's second son, advanced through Nubia claiming tribute and
submission from all the tribes Nemmir (which signifies Tiger), the king
of Shendy, received him hospitably, as Mahmoud, our dragoman, informed
us, and, when he was seated in his tent, waited on him to learn his
pleasure. "My pleasure is," replied the invader, "that you forthwith
furnish me with slaves, cattle, and money, to the value of 100,000
dollars."--"Pooh!" said Nemmir, "you jest; all my country could not
produce what you require in one hundred moons."--"Ha! Wallah!" was the
young Pasha's reply, and he struck the Tiger across the face with his
pipe. If he had done so to his namesake of the jungle, the insult could
not have roused fiercer feelings of revenge, but the human animal did
not shew his wrath at once. "It is well," he replied; "let the Pasha
rest; _to-morrow he shall have nothing more to ask_." The Egyptian, and
the few Mameluke officers of his staff, were tranquilly smoking towards
evening, entertained by some dancing-girls, whom the Tiger had sent to
amuse them; when they observed that a huge pile of dried stalks of
Indian corn was rising rapidly round the tent. "What means this?"
inquired Ismael angrily; "am not I Pasha?"--"It is but forage for your
highness's horses," replied the Nubian; "for, were your troops once
arrived, the people would fear to approach the camp." Suddenly the space
is filled with smoke, the tent-curtains shrivel up in flames, and the
Pasha and his comrades find themselves encircled in what they well know
is their funeral pyre. Vainly the invader implores mercy, and assures
the Tiger of his warm regard for him and all his family; vainly he
endeavours to break through the fiery fence that girds him round; a
thousand spears bore him back into the flames, and the Tiger's
triumphant yell and bitter mockery mingle with his dying screams. The
Egyptians perished to a man. Nemmir escaped up the country, crowned with
savage glory, and married the daughter of a king, who soon left him his
successor, and the Tiger still defies the old Pasha's power. The latter,
however, took a terrible revenge upon his people: he burnt all the
inhabitants of the village nearest to the scene of his son's slaughter,
and cut off the right hands of five hundred men besides. So much for
African warfare.
CROCODILE SHOOTING.
The first time a man fires at a crocodile is an epoch in his life. We
had only now arrived in the waters where they abound; for it is a
curious fact that none are ever seen below Mineych, though Herodotus
speaks of them as fighting with the dolphins, at the mouths of the Nile.
A prize had been offered for the first man who detected a crocodile, and
the crew had now been two days on the alert in search of them. Buoyed up
with the expectation of such game, we had latterly reserved our fire for
them exclusively; and the wild-duck and turtle, nay, even the vulture
and the eagle, had swept past, or soared above, in security. At length
the cry of "Timseach, timseach!" was heard from half-a-dozen claimants
of the proffered prize, and half-a-dozen black fingers were eagerly
pointed to a spit of sand, on which were strewn apparently some logs of
trees. It was a covey of crocodiles! Hastily and silently the boat was
run in shore. R. was ill, so I had the enterprise to myself, and
clambered up the steep bank with a quicker pulse than when I first
levelled a rifle at a Highland deer. My intended victims might have
prided themselves on their superior nonchalance; and, indeed, as I
approached them, there seemed to be a sneer on their ghastly mouths and
winking eyes. Slowly they rose, one after the other, and waddled to the
water, all but one, the most gallant or most gorged of the party. He lay
still until I was within a hundred yards of him; then slowly rising on
his fin-like legs, he lumbered towards the river, looking askance at me,
with an expression of countenance that seemed to say, "He can do me no
harm; however, I may as well have a swim." I took aim at the throat of
this supercilious brute, and, as soon as my hand steadied, the very
pulsation of my finger pulled the trigger. Bang! went the gun! whizz!
flew the bullet; and my excited ear could catch the _thud_ with which it
plunged into the scaly leather of his neck. His waddle became a plunge,
the waves closed over him, and the sun shone on the calm water, as I
reached the brink of the shore, that was still indented by the waving
of his gigantic tail. But there is blood upon the water, and he rises
for a moment to the surface. "A hundred piasters for the timseach," I
exclaimed, and half-a-dozen Arabs plunged into the stream. There! he
rises again, and the blacks dash at him as if he hadn't a tooth in his
head. Now he is gone, the waters close over him, and I never saw him
since. From that time we saw hundreds of crocodiles of all sizes, and
fired shots,--enough of them for a Spanish revolution; but we never
could get possession of any, even if we hit them, which to this day
remains doubtful.
~Remarkable Instance of Courage in a Lady.~
In the Life of Thomas Day, Esq., an anecdote is related of Miss B----,
afterwards Mrs. Day, shewing with what remarkable effect presence of
mind and courage can tame the ferocity of the brute creation.
Miss B. was, on one occasion, walking in company with another young lady
through a field, when a bull came running up to them with all the marks
of malevolence. Her friend began to run towards the stile, but was
prevented by Miss B., who told her, that as she could not reach the
stile soon enough to save herself, and as it is the nature of these
animals to attack persons in flight, her life would be in great danger
if she attempted to run, and would be inevitably lost if she chanced to
fall; but that, if she would steal gently to the stile, she herself
would take off the bull's attention from her, by standing between them.
Accordingly, turning her face towards the animal with the firmest aspect
she could assume, she fixed her eyes steadily upon his. It is said by
travellers, that a lion itself may be controlled by the steady looks of
a human being; but that, no sooner a man turns his back, than the beast
springs upon him as his prey. Miss B., to whom this property of animals
seems to have been known, had the presence of mind to apply it to the
safety of her friend and of herself. By her steady aspect she checked
the bull's career; but he shewed the strongest marks of indignation at
being so controlled, by roaring and tearing the ground with his feet and
horns. While he was thus engaged in venting his rage on the turf, she
cautiously retreated a few steps, without removing her eyes from him.
When he observed that she had retreated, he advanced till she stopped,
and then he also stopped, and again renewed his frantic play. Thus by
repeated degrees she at length arrived at the stile, where she
accomplished her safety; and thus, by a presence of mind rarely seen in
a person of her youth and sex, she not only saved herself, but also, at
the hazard of her own life, protected her friend. Some days afterwards,
this bull gored its master.
~Indian Field Sports.~
We give a few anecdotes illustrative of the above, from a work intitled
"Sketches of Field Sports, as followed by the Natives of India," from
the reading of which we have derived much pleasure. The authority is Dr.
Johnson, East India Company's Service.
He begins by informing his readers, that the "Shecarries" (or professed
hunters) are generally Hindoos of a low caste, who gain their livelihood
entirely by catching birds, hares, and all sorts of animals; some of
them confine themselves to catching birds and hares, whilst others
practise the art of catching birds and various animals; another
description of them live by destroying tigers.
METHOD OF CATCHING BIRDS.
Those who catch birds equip themselves with a framework of split
bamboos, resembling the frame of a paper kite, the shape of the top of a
coffin, and the height of a man, to which green bushes are fastened,
leaving two loop-holes to see through, and one lower down for their rod
to be inserted through. This framework, which is very light, they fasten
before them when they are in the act of catching birds, by which means
they have both hands at liberty, and are completely concealed from the
view of the birds. The rod which they use is about twenty-four feet
long, resembling a fishing-rod, the parts of which are inserted within
one another, and the whole contained in a walking-stick.
They also carry with them horse-hair nooses of different sizes and
strength, which they fasten to the rod: likewise bird-lime, and a
variety of calls for the different kinds of birds, with which they
imitate them to the greatest nicety. They take with them likewise two
lines to which horse-hair nooses are attached for catching larger birds,
and a bag or net to carry their game.
Thus equipped, they sally forth, and as they proceed through the
different covers, they use calls for such birds as generally resort
there, which from constant practice is well known to them, and if any
birds answer their call they prepare accordingly for catching them;
supposing it to be a bevy of quail, they continue calling them, until
they get quite close; they then arm the top of their rod with a feather
smeared with bird-lime, and pass it through the loop-hole in their
frame of ambush, and to which they continue adding other parts, until
they have five or six out, which they use with great dexterity, and
touch one of the quail with the feather, which adheres to them; they
then withdraw the rod, arm it again, and touch three or four more in the
same manner before they attempt to secure any of them.
In this way they catch all sorts of small birds not much larger than
quail, on the ground and in trees. If a brown or black partridge answers
their call, instead of bird-lime, they fasten a horse-hair noose to the
top of their rod, and when they are close to the birds, they keep
dipping the top of their rod with considerable skill until they fasten
the noose on one of their necks; they then draw him in, and go on
catching others in the same way. It is surprising to see with what cool
perseverance they proceed. In a similar manner they catch all kinds of
birds, nearly the size of partridges.
THE HYENA.
A servant of Mr. William Hunter's, by name Thomas Jones, who lived at
_Chittrah_, had a full grown hyena which ran loose about his house like
a dog, and I have seen him play with it with as much familiarity. They
feed on small animals and carrion, and I believe often come in for the
prey left by tigers and leopards after their appetites have been
satiated. They are great enemies of dogs, and kill numbers of them.
The natives of India affirm that tigers, panthers, and leopards, have a
great aversion to hyenas, on account of their destroying their young,
which I believe they have an opportunity of doing, as the parents leave
them during the greatest part of the day. The inhabitants, therefore,
feel no apprehension in taking away the young whenever they find them,
knowing the dam is seldom near.... Hyenas are slow in their pace, and
altogether inactive; I have often seen a few terriers keep them at bay,
and bite them severely by the hind quarter; their jaws, however, are
exceedingly strong, and a single bite, without holding on more than a
few seconds, is sufficient to kill a large dog. They stink horribly,
make no earths of their own, lie under rocks, or resort to the earths of
wolves, as foxes do to those of badgers; and it is not uncommon to find
wolves and hyenas in the same bed of earths.
I was informed by several gentlemen, of whose veracity I could not
doubt, that Captain Richards, of the Bengal Native Infantry, had a
servant of the tribe of _Shecarries_, who was in the habit of going into
the earths of wolves, fastening strings on them, and on the legs of
hyenas, and then drawing them out; he constantly supplied his master and
the gentlemen at the station with them, who let them loose on a plain,
and rode after them with spears, for practice and amusement. This man
possessed such an acute and exquisite sense of smelling, that he could
always tell by it if there were any animals in the earths, and could
distinguish whether they were hyenas or wolves.
THE BEAR.
Bears will often continue on the road in front of the palanquin for a
mile or two, tumbling and playing all sorts of antics, as if they were
taught to do so. I believe it is their natural disposition; for they
certainly are the most amusing creatures imaginable in their wild state.
It is no wonder that with monkeys they are led about to amuse mankind.
It is astonishing, as well as ludicrous, to see them climb rocks, and
tumble or rather roll down precipices. If they are attacked by any
person on horseback, they stand erect on their hind legs, shewing a fine
set of white teeth, and making a cackling kind of noise. If the horse
comes near them, they try to catch him by the legs, and if they miss
him, they tumble over and over several times. They are easily speared by
a person mounted on a horse that is bold enough to go near them.
SAGACITY OF THE ELEPHANT.
An elephant belonging to Mr. Boddam, of the Bengal Civil Service, at
_Gyah_, used every day to pass over a small bridge leading from his
master's house into the town of _Gyah_. He one day refused to go over
it, and it was with great difficulty, by goring him most cruelly with
the _Hunkuss_ [iron instrument], that the _Mahout_ [driver] could get
him to venture on the bridge, the strength of which he first tried with
his trunk, shewing clearly that he suspected that it was not
sufficiently strong. At last he went on, and before he could get over,
the bridge gave way, and they were precipitated into the ditch, which
killed the driver, and considerably injured the elephant. It is
reasonable to suppose that the elephant must have perceived its feeble
state when he last passed over it. It is a well known fact, that
elephants will seldom or ever go over strange bridges, without first
trying with their trunks if they be sufficiently strong to bear their
weight,--nor will they ever go into a boat without doing the same.
I had a remarkably quiet and docile elephant, which one day came home
loaded with branches of trees for provender, followed by a number of
villagers, calling for mercy (their usual cry when ill used);
complaining that the _Mahout_ had stolen a kid from them, and that it
was then on the elephant, under the branches of the trees. The _Mahout_
took an opportunity of decamping into the village and hiding himself. I
ordered the elephant to be unloaded, and was surprised to see that he
would not allow any person to come near to him, when at all other times
he was perfectly tractable and obedient. Combining all the
circumstances, I was convinced that the _Mahout_ was guilty, and to get
rid of the noise, I recompensed the people for the loss of their kid. As
soon as they were gone away, the elephant allowed himself to be
unloaded, and the kid was found under the branches, as described by the
people. I learnt from my _Sarcar_, that similar complaints had been made
to him before, and that the rascal of a _Mahout_ made it a practice to
ride the elephant into the midst of a herd of goats, and had taught him
to pick up any of the young ones he directed; he had also accustomed
him to steal their pumpions and other vegetables, that grew against the
inside of their fences like French beans, which could only be reached by
an elephant. He was the best _Mahout_ I ever knew, and so great a rogue
that I was obliged to discharge him.
The very day that he left my service, the elephant's eyes were closed,
which he did not open again in less than a fortnight, when it was
discovered that he was blind. Two small eschars, one in each eye, were
visible, which indicated pretty strongly that he had been made blind by
some sharp instrument, most probably by a heated needle. The suspicion
was very strong against the former keeper, of whom I never heard
anything after. The elephant I frequently rode on, shooting, for many
years after this, through heavy covers, intersected with ravines,
rivers, and over hollow and uneven ground, and he scarcely ever made a
false step with me, and never once tumbled. He used to touch the ground
with his trunk on every spot where his feet were to be placed, and in
so light and quick a manner as scarcely to be perceived. The _Mahout_
would often make him remove large stones, lumps of earth, or timber, out
of his way, frequently climb up and down banks that no horse could get
over. He would also occasionally break off branches of trees that were
in the way of the _Howdah_, to enable me to pass.
Although perfectly blind, he was considered one of the best sporting
elephants of his small size in the country, and he travelled at a
tolerably good rate, and was remarkably easy in his paces.
ANECDOTES OF THE TIGER.
An occurrence nearly similar happened to me soon after, which put an end
to my shooting on foot. From that time to the period of my leaving
_Chittrah_, which was many years after, I always went out to shoot on an
elephant. The circumstance I allude to was as follows:--Fifty or sixty
people were beating a thick cover. I was on the outside of it, with a
man holding my horse, and another servant with a hog's spear; when those
who were driving the cover called _Suer! Suer!_ which is the
_Hindoostanee_ name for hog. Seeing something move the bushes about
twenty yards from me, and supposing it to be a hog, I fired at the spot,
with ten or a dozen small balls. Instantly on the explosion of my gun, a
tiger roared out, and came galloping straight towards us. I dipped under
the horse's belly, and got on the opposite side from him. He came within
a few yards of us, and then turned off growling into the cover.
When the people came out, they brought with them a dead hog, partly
devoured. These two cases, I think, shew clearly that tigers are
naturally cowardly. They generally take their prey by surprise, and
whenever they attack openly, it is reasonable to conclude that they must
be extremely hungry; which I believe is often the case, as their killing
animals of the forest must be very precarious. It is the general opinion
of the inhabitants, that when a tiger has tasted human blood he prefers
it to all other food. A year or two sometimes elapses without any one
being killed by a tiger for several miles round, although they are often
seen in that space, and are known to destroy cattle; but as soon as one
man is killed, others shortly after share the same fate. This, I
imagine, is the reason why the natives entertain an idea that they
prefer men to all other food. I account for it otherwise. Tigers are
naturally afraid of men, and, in the first instance, seldom attack them,
unless compelled by extreme hunger. When once they have ventured an
attack, they find them much easier prey than most animals of the forest,
and always to be met with near villages, and on public roads, without
the trouble of hunting about for them through the covers.
A tigress with two cubs lurked about the _Kutkumsandy_ pass, and during
two months killed a man almost every day, and on some days two. Ten or
twelve of the people belonging to government (carriers of the post-bags)
were of the number. In fact, the communication between the Presidency
and the upper provinces was almost entirely cut off. The government,
therefore, was induced to offer a large reward to any person who killed
the tigress.
She was fired at, and, adds Mr. J., never ... "heard of after;" from
which it may be presumed she was wounded. It is fortunate for the
inhabitants of that country, that tigers seldom survive any wound; their
blood being always in a state predisposing to putrefaction, consequence
of the extreme heat, and their living entirely on animal food....
Two _Biparies_[1] were driving a string of loaded bullocks to _Chittrah_
from _Palamow_. When they were come within a few miles of the former
place, a tiger seized on the man in the rear, which was seen by a
_Guallah_ [herdsman], as he was watching his buffaloes grazing. He
boldly ran to the man's assistance, and cut the tiger severely with his
sword; upon which he dropped the _Biparie_ and seized the herdsman: the
buffaloes observing it, attacked the tiger, and rescued the poor man;
they tossed him about from one to the other, and, to the best of my
recollection, killed him; but of that I am not quite positive. Both of
the wounded men were brought to me. The _Biparie_ recovered, and the
herdsman died.
[Footnote 1: _Bipar_ signifies merchandise, and _Biparies_ are people
who buy grain, and other articles, which they transport from one part of
the country to another on bullocks.]
An elderly man and his wife (of the lowest caste of _Hindoos_, called
_dooms_, who live chiefly by making mats and baskets) were each carrying
home a bundle of wood, and as they were resting their burdens on the
ground, the old man hearing a strange noise, looked about, and saw a
tiger running off with his wife in his mouth. He ran after them, and
struck the tiger on the back with a small axe: the tiger dropt the wife,
who was soon after brought to me. One of her breasts was almost entirely
taken away, and the other much lacerated: she had also several deep
wounds in the back of her neck, by which I imagine the tiger struck at
her with his two fore paws; one on the neck, and the other on the
breast. This, if I may judge from the number I have seen wounded, is
their usual way of attacking men. The old woman was six months under my
care, and at last recovered.
As an old Mahometan priest was travelling at mid-day on horseback,
within a few miles of _Chittrah_, with his son, an athletic young man,
walking by his side, they heard a tiger roaring near them. The son urged
his father to hasten on; the old man continued at a slow pace, observing
that there was no danger, the tiger would not molest them. He then began
counting his beads, and offering his prayers to the Almighty; in the act
of which he was knocked off his horse, and carried away by the tiger;
the son ran after them, and cut the tiger with his sword; he dropped the
father, seized the son, and carried him off. The father was brought to
_Chittrah_, and died the same day; the son was never heard of
afterwards. In this instance, I think, the tiger must have been
ravenously hungry, or he would not have roared when near his prey; it is
what they seldom or ever do, except in the very act of seizing....
Some idea may be formed how numerous the tigers must have been at one
period in Bengal, from the circumstance, that one gentleman is reported
to have killed upwards of three hundred and sixty.
~Death of Sir John Moore.~
From Mr. Southey's History of the Peninsular War, a work of sterling
merit.
Marshal Soult's intention was to force the right of the British, and
thus to interpose between Corunna and the army, and cut it off from the
place of embarkation. Failing in this attempt, he was now endeavouring
to outflank it. Half of the 4th regiment was therefore ordered to fall
back, forming an obtuse angle with the other half. This manoeuvre was
excellently performed, and they commenced a heavy flanking fire: Sir
John Moore called out to them, that this was exactly what he wanted to
be done, and rode on to the 50th, commanded by Majors Napier and
Stanhope. They got over an inclosure in their front, charged the enemy
most gallantly, and drove them out of the village of Elvina; but Major
Napier, advancing too far in the pursuit, received several wounds, and
was made prisoner, and Major Stanhope was killed.
The General now proceeded to the 42nd. "Highlanders," said he, "remember
Egypt!" They rushed on, and drove the French before them, till they were
stopped by a wall. Sir John accompanied them in this charge. He now sent
Captain Hardinge to order up a battalion of Guards to the left flank of
the 42nd. The officer commanding the light infantry conceived at this
that they were to be relieved by the Guards, because their ammunition
was nearly expended, and he began to fall back. The General, discovering
the mistake, said to them, "My brave 42nd, join your comrades:
ammunition is coming, and you have your bayonets!" Upon this, they
instantly moved forward. Captain Hardinge returned, and pointed out to
the General where the Guards were advancing. The enemy kept up a hot
fire, and their artillery played incessantly on the spot where they were
standing. A cannon-shot struck Sir John, and carried away his left
shoulder, and part of the collar-bone, leaving the arm hanging by the
flesh. He fell from his horse on his back; his countenance did not
change, neither did he betray the least sensation of pain. Captain
Hardinge, who dismounted, and took him by the hand, observed him
anxiously watching the 42nd, which was warmly engaged, and told him they
were advancing; and upon that intelligence his countenance brightened.
Colonel Graham, who now came up to assist him, seeing the composure of
his features, began to hope that he was not wounded, till he perceived
the dreadful laceration. From the size of the wound, it was in vain to
make any attempt at stopping the blood; and Sir John consented to be
removed in a blanket to the rear. In raising him up, his sword, hanging
on the wounded side, touched his arm, and became entangled between his
legs. Captain Hardinge began to unbuckle it; but the General said, in
his usual tone and manner, and in a distinct voice, "It is as well as it
is; I had rather it should go out of the field with me." Six soldiers
of the 42nd and the Guards bore him. Hardinge, observing his composure,
began to hope that the wound might not be mortal, and said to him, he
trusted he might be spared to the army, and recover. Moore turned his
head, and looking stedfastly at the wound for a few seconds, replied,
"No, Hardinge, I feel that to be impossible."
As the soldiers were carrying him slowly along, he made them frequently
turn round, that he might see the field of battle, and listen to the
firing; and he was well pleased when the sound grew fainter. A
spring-wagon came up, bearing Colonel Wynch, who was wounded: the
Colonel asked who was in the blanket, and being told it was Sir John
Moore, wished him to be placed in the wagon. Sir John asked one of the
Highlanders whether he thought the wagon or the blanket was best? and
the man said the blanket would not shake him so much, as he and the
other soldiers would keep the step, and carry him easy. So they
proceeded with him to his quarters at Corunna, weeping as they went....
The General lived to hear that the battle was won. "Are the French
beaten?" was the question which he repeated to every one who came into
his apartment; and he expressed how great a satisfaction it was to him
to know that they were defeated. "I hope," he said, "the people of
England will be satisfied! I hope my country will do me justice," Then,
addressing Colonel Anderson, who had been his friend and companion in
arms for one-and-twenty years, he said to him, "Anderson, you know that
I have always wished to die this way--You will see my friends as soon as
you can:--tell them everything--Say to my mother"--But here his voice
failed, he became excessively agitated, and did not again venture to
name her. Sometimes he asked to be placed in an easier posture. "I feel
myself so strong," he said, "I fear I shall be long dying. It is great
uneasiness--it is great pain." But, after a while, he pressed Anderson's
hand close to his body, and, in a few minutes, died without a struggle.
He fell, as it had ever been his wish to do, in battle and in victory.
No man was more beloved in private life, nor was there any general in
the British army so universally respected. All men had thought him
worthy of the chief command. Had he been less circumspect,--had he
looked more ardently forward, and less anxiously around him, and on all
sides, and behind,--had he been more confident in himself and in his
army, and impressed with less respect for the French Generals, he would
have been more equal to the difficulties of his situation. Despondency
was the radical weakness of his mind. Personally he was as brave a man
as ever met death in the field; but he wanted faith in British courage:
and it is faith by which miracles are wrought in war as well as in
religion. But let it ever be remembered with gratitude, that, when some
of his general officers advised him to conclude the retreat by a
capitulation, Sir John Moore preserved the honour of England.
He had often said that, if he were killed in battle, he wished to be
buried where he fell. The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of
Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there, by a party of the
9th regiment, the aides-du-camp attending by turns. No coffin could be
procured; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it
was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened; for,
about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and they feared that,
if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered away, and not
suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his staff bore him
to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain; and the
corpse was covered with earth.
Thus, with a solemn splendour and a sad glory, closed the career of a
gallant but unfortunate commander.
We subjoin the beautiful Ode on the Death of Sir John, written by the
Rev. Mr. Wolfe:--
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral-note,
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell-shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the straggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we stedfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hallowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,--
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone--
But we left him alone with his glory.
~Persian Tyranny.~
Sir R.K. Porter, in his travels in Persia, met with the sufferer from
despotic tyranny and cruelty whose story is here related. He informs us,
that the benignity of this person's countenance, united with the
crippled state of his venerable frame, from the effects of his
precipitation from the terrible height of execution, excited his
curiosity to inquire into the particulars of so amazing a preservation.
Entering into conversation on the amiable characters of the reigning
royal family of Persia, and comparing the present happiness of his
country under their rule, with its misery during the sanguinary
usurpation of the tyrant Nackee Khan, the good old man, who had himself
been so signal an example of that misery, was easily led to describe the
extraordinary circumstances of his own case. Being connected with the
last horrible acts, and consequent fall of the usurper, a double
interest accompanied his recital, the substance of which was nearly as
follows:--
Having by intrigues and assassinations made himself master of the regal
power at Shiraz, this monster of human kind found that the governor of
Ispahan, instead of adhering to him, had proclaimed the accession of the
lawful heir. No sooner was the intelligence brought to Nackee Khan than
he put himself at the head of his troops, and set forward to revenge his
contemned authority. When he arrived as far as Yezdikast, he encamped
his army for a short halt, near the tomb on the north side. Being as
insatiable of money as blood, he sent to the inhabitants of Yezdikast,
and demanded an immense sum in gold, which he insisted should instantly
be paid to his messengers. Unable to comply, the fact was respectfully
pleaded in excuse; namely, "that all the money the city had possessed
was already taken away by his own officers, and those of the opposite
party; and that, at present, there was scarce a tomaun in the place."
Enraged at this answer, he repaired, full of wrath, to the town, and,
ordering eighteen of the principal inhabitants to be brought before him,
again demanded the money, but with threats and imprecations which made
the hearers tremble. Still, however, they could only return the same
answer--"their utter inability to pay;" and the tyrant, without a
moment's preparation, commanded the men to be seized, and hurled from
the top of the precipice in his sight. Most of them were instantly
killed on the spot; others, cruelly maimed, died in terrible agonies
where they fell; and the describer of the dreadful scene was the only
one who survived. He could form no idea of how long he lay after
precipitation, utterly senseless; "but," added he, "by the will of God I
breathed again; and, on opening my eyes, found myself among the dead and
mangled bodies of my former neighbours and friends. Some yet groaned."
He then related, that, in the midst of his horror at the sight, he heard
sounds of yet more terrible acts, from the top of the cliff; and,
momentarily strengthened by fear of he knew not what, for he believed
that death had already grasped his own poor shattered frame, he managed
to crawl away, unperceived, into one of the numerous caverned holes
which perforate the foot of the steep. He lay there in an expiring
state the whole night, but in the morning was providentially discovered
by some of the town's people, who came to seek the bodies of their
murdered relatives, to mourn over and take them away for burial. The
poor man, feeble as he was, called to these weeping groups; who, to
their astonishment and joy, drew out one survivor from the dreadful heap
of slain. No time was lost in conveying him home, and administering
every kind of assistance; but many months elapsed before he was able to
move from his house, so deep had been the injuries inflicted in his
fall.
In the course of his awful narrative, he told us, that the noise which
had so appalled him, as he lay among the blood-stained rocks, was indeed
the acting of a new cruelty of the usurper. After having witnessed the
execution of his sentence on the eighteen citizens, whose asseverations
he had determined not to believe, Nackee Khan immediately sent for a
devout man, called Saied Hassan, who was considered the sage of the
place, and, for his charities, greatly beloved by the people. "This
man," said the Khan, "being a descendant of the Prophet, must know the
truth, and will tell it me. He shall find me those who can and will pay
the money." But the answer given by the honest Saied being precisely the
same with that of the innocent victims who had already perished, the
tyrant's fury knew no bounds, and, rising from his seat, he ordered the
holy man to be rent asunder in his presence, and then thrown over the
rock, to increase the monument of his vengeance below.
It was the tumult of this most dreadful execution, which occasioned the
noise that drove the affrighted narrator to the shelter of any hole from
the eye of merciless man. But the cruel scene did not end here. Even in
the yet sensible ear of the Saied, expiring in agonies, his execrable
murderer ordered that his wife and daughters should be given up to the
soldiers; and that, in punishment of such universal rebellion in the
town, the whole place should be razed to the ground. But this last act
of blood on a son of the Prophet cost the perpetrator his life. For the
soldiers themselves, and the nobles who had been partisans of the
usurper, were so struck with horror at the sacrilegious murder, and
appalled with the threatened guilt of violating women of the sacred
family, that they believed a curse must follow the abettors of such a
man. The next step, in their minds, was to appease Heaven by the
immolation of the offender; and, in the course of that very night, a
band of his servants cut the cords of his tent, which, instantly falling
in upon him, afforded them a secure opportunity of burying their
poniards in his body. The first strokes were followed by thousands. So
detested was the wretch, that in a few minutes his remains were hewn and
torn to pieces. It does not become men to lift the veil which lies over
the whole doom of a ruthless murderer; but there is something in the
last mortal yell of a tyrant, whether it be a Robespierre or a Nackee
Khan, which sounds as if mingled with a dreadful echo from the eternal
shore.
~Sketches in Virginia.~
The Rock Bridge is described by Mr. Jefferson, late President of the
United States, as one of the most sublime of the productions of Nature.
It is on the ascent of a hill which seems to have been cloven through
its length by some great convulsion of Nature.
Although the sides of the bridge are provided in some parts with a
parapet of fixed rocks, yet few persons have resolution to walk to them,
and look over into the abyss. The passenger involuntarily falls on his
hands, creeps to the parapet, and peeps over it. Looking down from this
height for the space of a minute, occasions a violent headache; and the
view from beneath is delightful in the extreme, as much as that from
above is exquisitely painful.
The following beautiful sketch is from the pen of the Rev. John Todd, of
Philadelphia, author of the Student's Manual, Simple Sketches, and other
admired works.
ROCK BRIDGE.
On a lovely morning towards the close of spring, I found myself in a
very beautiful part of the great valley of Virginia. Spurred on by
impatience, I beheld the sun rising in splendour, and changing the blue
tints on the tops of the lofty Alleghany mountains into streaks of
purest gold; and nature seemed to smile in the freshness of beauty. A
ride of about fifteen miles, and a pleasant woodland ramble of about
two, brought myself and my companion to the great NATURAL BRIDGE.
Although I had been anxiously looking forward to this time, and my mind
had been considerably excited by expectation, yet I was not altogether
prepared for this visit. This great work of nature is considered by many
as the second great curiosity in our country, Niagara Falls being the
first. I do not expect to convey a very correct idea of this bridge; for
no description can do this.
The Natural Bridge is entirely the work of God. It is of solid
limestone, and connects two huge mountains together, by a most beautiful
arch over which there is a great wagon road. Its length from one
mountain to the other is nearly eighty feet, its width about
thirty-five, its thickness forty-five, and its perpendicular height
above the water is not far from two hundred and twenty feet. A few
bushes grow on its top, by which the traveller may hold himself as he
looks over. On each side of the stream, and near the bridge, are rocks
projecting ten or fifteen feet over the water, and from two hundred to
three hundred feet from its surface, all of limestone. The visitor
cannot give so good a description of the bridge as he can of his
feelings at the time. He softly creeps out on a shaggy projecting rock,
and, looking down a chasm from forty to sixty feet wide, he sees, nearly
three hundred feet below, a wild stream foaming and dashing against the
rocks beneath, as if terrified at the rocks above. This stream is called
Cedar Creek. He sees under the arch, trees whose height is seventy feet;
and yet, as he looks down upon them, they appear like small bushes of
perhaps two or three feet in height. I saw several birds fly under the
arch, and they looked like insects. I threw down a stone, and counted
thirty-four before it reached the water. All hear of heights and of
depths, but they here _see_ what is high, and they tremble, and _feel_
it to be deep. The awful rocks present their everlasting butments, the
water murmurs and foams far below, and the two mountains rear their
proud heads on each side, separated by a channel of sublimity. Those who
view the sun, the moon, and the stars, and allow that none but God could
make them, will here be impressed that none but an _Almighty_ God could
build a bridge like this.
The view of the bridge from below is as pleasing as the top view is
awful. The arch from beneath would seem to be about two feet in
thickness. Some idea of the distance from the top to the bottom may be
formed, from the fact, that as I stood on the bridge and my companion
beneath, neither of us could speak sufficiently loud to be heard by the
other. A man, from either view, does not appear more than four or five
inches in height.
As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw the place where visitors
have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here
Washington climbed up twenty-five feet, and carved his own name, where
it still remains. Some, wishing to immortalise their names, have
engraven them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and
insert them high in this book of fame.
A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to place his name above
all others, was very near losing his life in the attempt. After much
fatigue he climbed up as high as possible, but found that the person who
had before occupied his place was taller than himself, and consequently
had placed his name above his reach. But he was not thus to be
discouraged. He opened a large jack-knife, and, in the soft limestone,
began to cut places for his hands and feet. With much patience and
industry he worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name
higher than the most ambitious had done before him. He could now
triumph, but his triumph was short; for he was placed in such a
situation that it was impossible to descend, unless he fell upon the
ragged rocks beneath him. There was no house near, from whence his
companions could get assistance. He could not long remain in that
condition, and, what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to
do anything for his relief. They looked upon him as already dead,
expecting every moment to see him precipitated upon the rocks below and
dashed to pieces. Not so with himself. He determined to ascend.
Accordingly he plies the rock with his knife, cutting places for his
hands and feet, and gradually ascended with incredible labour. He exerts
every muscle. His life was at stake, and all the terrors of death rose
before him. He dared not look downwards, lest his head should become
dizzy; and perhaps on this circumstance his life depended. His
companions stood at the top of the rock, exhorting and encouraging him.
His strength was almost exhausted; but a bare possibility of saving his
life still remained; and hope, the last friend of the distressed, had
not yet forsaken him. His course upwards was rather oblique than
perpendicular. His most critical moment had now arrived. He had ascended
considerably more than two hundred feet, and had still further to rise,
when he felt himself fast growing weak. He thought of his friends, and
all his earthly joys, and he could not leave them. He thought of the
grave, and dared not meet it. He now made his last effort and succeeded.
He had cut his way not far from two hundred and fifty feet from the
water, in a course almost perpendicular; and in a little less than two
hours, his anxious companions reached him a pole from the top, and drew
him up. They received him with shouts of joy, but he himself was
completely exhausted. He immediately fainted on reaching the top, and it
was some time before he could be recovered!
It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow
in imagination this bold youth as he thus saved his life. His name
stands far above all the rest, a monument of hardihood, of rashness, and
of folly.
We lingered around this seat of grandeur about four hours; but, from my
own feelings, I should not have supposed it over half an hour. There is
a little cottage near, lately built; here we were desired to write our
names, as visitors of the bridge, in a large book kept for this purpose.
Two large volumes were nearly filled in this manner already. Having
immortalised our names by enrolling them in this book, we slowly and
silently returned to our horses, wondering at this great work of nature;
and we could not but be filled with astonishment at the amazing power of
Him who can clothe Himself in wonder and terror, or throw around His
works a mantle of sublimity.
WIER'S CAVE.
About three days' ride from the Natural Bridge brought Mr. Todd and his
companions to a place called Port Republic, about twenty miles from the
town of Staunton. Here they prepared themselves to visit this other
natural curiosity.
The shower was now over, which had wet us to the skin--the sun was
pouring down his most scorching rays--the heavy thunder had gone by; we
threw around our delighted eyes, and beheld near us the lofty Alleghany
rearing his shaggy head. The south branch of the Shenandoah river, with
its banks covered with beautiful trees, was murmuring at our feet--a
lovely plain stretched below us, as far as the eye could reach; and we,
with our guide, were now standing about half way up a hill nearly two
hundred feet high, and so steep that a biscuit may be thrown from its
top into the river at its foot--we were standing at the mouth of WIER'S
CAVE. This cavern derives its name from _Barnet Wier_, who discovered it
in the year 1804. It is situated near Madison's Cave, so celebrated;
though the latter cannot be compared with the former.
There were three of us, besides our guide, with lighted torches, and our
loins girded, now ready to descend into the cave. We took our torches in
our left hands and entered. The mouth was so small that we could descend
only by creeping, one after another. A descent of almost twenty yards
brought us into the first room. The cave was exceedingly cold, dark, and
silent, like the chambers of death. In this manner we proceeded, now
descending thirty or forty feet--now ascending as high--now creeping on
our hands and knees, and now walking in large rooms--the habitations of
solitude. The mountain seems to be composed almost wholly of limestone,
and by this means the cave is lined throughout with the most beautiful
incrustations and stalactites of carbonated lime, which are formed by
the continual dripping of the water through the roof. These stalactites
are of various and elegant shapes and colours, often bearing a striking
resemblance to animated nature. At one place we saw over our heads what
appeared to be a _waterfall_ of the most beautiful kind. Nor could the
imagination be easily persuaded that it was not a reality. You could see
the water boiling and dashing down,--see its white spray and foam--but
it was all solid limestone.
Thus we passed onward in this world of solitude--now stopping to admire
the beauties of a single stalactite--now wondering at the magnificence
of a large room--now creeping through narrow passages, hardly wide
enough to admit the body of a man,--and now walking in superb
galleries, until we came to the largest room, called WASHINGTON HALL.
This is certainly the most elegant room I ever saw. It is about two
hundred and seventy feet in length, about thirty-five in width, and
between thirty and forty feet high. The roof and sides are very
beautifully adorned by the tinsels which Nature has bestowed in the
greatest profusion, and which sparkle like the diamond, while surveyed
by the light of torches. The floor is flat, and smooth, and solid. I was
foremost of our little party in entering the room, and was not a little
startled as I approached the centre, to see a figure, as it were, rising
up before me out of the solid rock. It was not far from seven feet high,
and corresponded in every respect to the common idea of a ghost. It was
very white, and resembled a tall man clothed in a shroud. I went up to
it sideways, though I could not really expect to meet a ghost in a place
like this. On examination I found it was a very beautiful piece of the
carbonate of lime, very transparent, and very much in the shape of a
man. This is called WASHINGTON'S STATUE--as if Nature would do for this
hero what his delivered country has not done--rear a statue to his
memory.
Here an accident happened which might have been serious. One of our
party had purposely extinguished his light, lest we should not have
enough to last. My companion accidentally put out his light, and in
sport came and blew out mine. We were now about sixteen hundred feet
from daylight, with but one feeble light, which the falling water might
in a moment have extinguished. Add to this, that the person who held
this light was at some distance viewing some falling water.
"Conticuere omnes, intentique ora tenebant."
We, however, once more lighted our torches; but, had we not been able to
do so, we might, at our leisure, have contemplated the gloominess of the
cavern, for no one would have come to us till the next day. In one room
we found an excellent spring of water, which boiled up as if to slake
our thirst, then sunk into the mountain, and was seen no more. In
another room was a noble pillar, called the TOWER OF BABEL. It is
composed entirely of stalactites of lime, or, as the appearance would
seem to suggest, of petrified water. It is about thirty feet in
diameter, and a little more than ninety feet in circumference, and not
far from thirty feet high. There are probably millions of stalactites in
this one pillar.
Thus we wandered on in this world within a world, till we had visited
twelve very beautiful rooms, and as many creeping places, and had now
arrived at the end,--a distance from our entrance of between twenty-four
and twenty-five hundred feet; or, what is about its equal, half a mile
from the mouth. We here found ourselves exceedingly fatigued; but our
torches forbade us to tarry, and we once more turned our lingering steps
towards the common world. When we arrived again at Washington Hall, one
of our company three times discharged a pistol, whose report was truly
deafening; and as the sound reverberated and echoed through one room
after another till it died away in distance, it seemed like the moanings
of spirits. We continued our wandering steps till we arrived once more
at daylight, having been nearly three hours in the cavern. We were much
fatigued, covered with dirt, and in a cold sweat; yet we regretted to
leave it. From the farther end of the cave I gathered some handsome
stalactites, which I put into my portmanteau, and preserved as mementos
of that day's visit.
To compare the Natural Bridge and Cave together as objects of curiosity,
is exceedingly difficult. Many consider the _Bridge_ as the greatest
curiosity; but I think the _Cavern_ is. In looking at the Bridge we are
filled with awe; at the Cavern with delight. At the Bridge we have
several views that are awful; at the Cave hundreds that are pleasing. At
the Bridge you stand and gaze in astonishment; at the Cave awfulness is
lost in beauty, and grandeur is dressed in a thousand captivating forms.
At the Bridge you feel yourself to be _looking_ into another world; at
the Cave you find yourself already _arrived_ there. The one presents to
us a God who is very "wonderful in working;" the other exhibits the same
power, but with it is blended loveliness in a thousand forms. In each is
vastness. Greatness constitutes the whole of one; but the other is
elegant, as well as great. Of each we must retain lively impressions;
and to witness such displays of the Creator's power, must ever be
considered as happy events in our lives. While viewing scenes like
these, we must ever exalt the energy of creating power, and sink under
the thoughts of our own insignificance. The works of nature are
admirably well calculated to impress us deeply with a sense of the
mighty power of God, who can separate two mountains by a channel of
awfulness, or fill the bowels of a huge mountain with beauties, that
man, with all the aid of art, can only admire, but never imitate.
~The Christian Slave.~
We venture to extract another of Mr. Todd's Simple Sketches, so
charmingly are they described.
The sun had set, and I began to be anxious to find a place of rest for
the night, after a day's ride under a sultry sun. I was travelling in
South Carolina, and was now not far from a branch of the Cooper river.
The country here is a dead level, and its surface is covered with thinly
scattered pines. I came to an old church--it stood solitary; not a house
in sight: it was built of wood, and much decayed. The breezes of evening
were gently sighing through the tops of the long-leaved pines which
stood near; while still nearer stood several large live-oaks, which
spread out their aged arms, as if to shelter what was sacred. On their
limbs hung, in graceful folds, the long grey moss, as if a mantle of
mourning, waving over a few decayed tombs at the east side of the
church. These oaks give the place a very sombre and awful appearance;
they seemed to stand as silent mourners over the dust of generations
that had sunk into the grave, and waiting in solemn expectation that
others would soon come and lie beneath their shade in the long sleep of
death. The time of day, and the sacredness of the spot, were so
congenial to my own feelings, that I involuntarily stopped my horse.
My curiosity was now excited by seeing a very aged negro standing and
gazing steadily on a small decaying tomb. He seemed to be intent, and
did not observe me; his woolly locks were whitened by age; his
countenance was manly, though it bore the marks of sorrow; he was
leaning on his smooth-worn staff, the companion of many years. I was
somewhat surprised on seeing this aged African silently meditating among
the vestiges of the dead, and accordingly roused him from his reverie.
He started at first, but his confidence was soon gained. There is a
spring in the bosom of every Christian, which throws a joy into his
heart whenever he meets a fellow-christian during his pilgrimage here
below. I found the old negro to be an eminent Christian, and we were
soon acquainted. I inquired what motive induced him, at that hour of the
day, to visit these tombs. Instead of answering my question directly he
gave me the following account of himself, in broken language:--
About sixty years ago, this negro was living under his paternal roof in
Africa. He was the son of a chief of a small tribe, the pride of his
parents, and the delight of his countrymen; none could more dexterously
throw the dart; none more skilfully guide the fragile canoe over the
bosom of the deep. He was not far from twenty years of age, when, on a
fair summer's morn, he went in his little canoe to spend the day in
fishing. About noon he paddled his bark to the shore, and, under the
shade of a beautiful palmetto-tree, he reclined till the heat of
noon-day should be passed. He was young, healthy, and active; he knew
none whom he dreaded; he was a stranger to fear, and he dreamed only of
security, as he slept under the shade of his own native tree. Thus,
while our sky is encircled with the bow of happiness, we forget that it
may soon be overspread with darkness. When this African awoke, he found
his hands bound behind him, his feet fettered, and himself surrounded by
several white men, who were conveying him on board of their ship;--it
was a slave-ship. The vessel had her cargo completed, and was ready to
sail. As they were unfurling the sails, the son of Africa, with many
others of his countrymen, for the last time cast his eyes upon his
native shores. Futurity was dark,--was uncertain,--was despair. His
bosom thrilled with anguish, as he threw his last farewell look over the
plains of his native country. There was his native spot where his had
lived, there the home of his infancy and childhood, there the place
where he had inhaled his earliest breath--and to tear him from these,
seemed like breaking the very strings of his heart.
[Illustration]
After a melancholy passage, during which the African was forced to wear
double the irons to receive double the number of lashes, that any of
his companions received, on account of his refractory spirit, he was at
length landed and sold to a planter in the place where he now resides.
There is nothing new, nothing novel or interesting, that ever takes
place in the life of a slave--describe one day, and you write the
history of a slave. The sun, indeed, continues to roll over him; but it
sheds upon him no new joys, no new prospects, no new hopes. So it was
with the subject of this narrative. His master was naturally a man of a
very humane disposition; but his overseers were often little else than
compounds of vice and cruelty. In this situation the negro lost all his
natural independence and bravery. He often attempted to run away, but
was as often taken and punished. Having no cultivated mind to which he
could look for consolation--knowing of no change that was ever to take
place in his situation,--he settled down in gloominess. Often would he
send a silent sigh for the home of his youth; but his path shewed but
few marks of happiness, and few rays of hope for futurity were drawn by
fancy's hand. Sunk in despondency and vice, he was little above the
brutes around him.
In this situation he was accidentally met by the good minister of the
parish, who addressed him as a rational and immortal being, and pressed
upon him the first principles of religion. This was a new subject; for
he had never before looked beyond the narrow bounds before him, nor had
he ever dreamed of a world beyond this. After a long conversation on
this subject, the minister made him promise that he would now "_attend
to his soul_."
The clergyman could not, for many months after this, obtain an interview
with his new pupil, who most carefully shunned him. But though afraid to
meet his minister, he still felt an arrow of conviction in his heart.
Wherever he went, whether asleep or awake, to use his own words, his
promise, "me take care of soul, stick close to him," He now began in
earnest to seek "the one thing needful". By the kindness of his master
he learned to read his Testament, and to inquire more about Jesus. He
was now very desirous to see his minister; and before a convenient
opportunity occurred, he was in such distress of mind as actually to
attempt two several times to kill himself. His minister visited him,
conversed and prayed with him.
"_Oh_," he would say, "God never think such poor negro, he no love so
much sinner, he no before ever see such bad heart!" The mercy of Christ,
and his compassion towards sinners, were explained to him, and his soul
was filled with "joy and peace in believing," He now rejoiced and
thanked God that he was brought from his native shores, as he had a
fairer country, and purer enjoyments presented to his view, after the
scenes of this transitory world shall be over. He now became more
industrious and more faithful. By uncommon industry he raised money
sufficient to purchase his own freedom. He next bought the liberty of
his wife, and had nearly completed paying for that of his only
daughter, when she was liberated by the hand of death. His wife soon
followed her, and left this world a perfect void to the husband and
father. His every tie that bound him to earth was now broken. Having no
earthly enjoyment, he now placed his affections on heaven above. It is
easy for the Christian to make rapid progress in holiness when not
fettered by worldly cares.
It was now dark, and I must leave my new acquaintance. I left him with
his face wet with tears, still standing beside the tomb--the tomb of his
old minister! This good man had been his faithful and constant guide,
and though his ashes had been slumbering for years, the negro had not
yet forgotten how to weep at their urn. I could not but admire the
wonderful dealings of God, in order to bring men to himself. Happy
minister! who hast been the instrument of covering a multitude of sins!
Happy negro! his is not this world. Though no sculptured marble may tell
the traveller where he may shortly lie--though he never trod the thorny
road of ambition or power--though the trumpet of fame never blew the
echo of his name through a gaping world--still those eyes, which will
soon be closed in death, may hereafter awake, to behold, undaunted, a
world in flames, and these heavens fleeing away.
~Violent Earthquake in Calabria.~
In nature there is nothing which can inspire us with so much awe as
those violent outbreakings which occasionally convulse the earth,
creating fearful devastation, overthrowing cities, and destroying much
life and property. The following is a description of one which occurred
in Calabria and Sicily in the year 1783; and which, from its violence,
overthrew many cities, creating an universal consternation in the minds
of the inhabitants of the two kingdoms.
On Wednesday, the fifth of February, about one in the afternoon, the
earth was convulsed in that part of Calabria which is bounded by the
rivers of Gallico and Metramo, by the mountains Jeio, Sagra, and
Caulone, and the coast between these rivers and the Tuscan Sea. This
district is called the _Piana_, because the country extends itself from
the roots of the Appenines, in a plain, for twenty Italian miles in
length by eighteen in breadth. The earthquake lasted about a hundred
seconds. It was felt as far as Otranto, Palermo, Lipari, and the other
AEolian isles; a little also in Apuglia, and the _Terra di Cavoro_; in
Naples and the Abruzzi not at all. There stood in this plain a hundred
and nine cities and villages, the habitations of a hundred and sixty-six
thousand human beings; and in less than two minutes all these edifices
were destroyed, with nearly thirty-two thousand individuals of every
age, sex, and station,--the rich equally with the poor; for there
existed no power of escaping from so sudden a destruction. The soil of
the _Piana_ was granite at the base of the Apennines, but in the plain
the _debris_ of every sort of earth, brought down from the mountains by
the rains, constituted a mass of unequal solidity, resistance, weight,
and form. On this account, whatever might have been the cause of the
earthquake, whether volcanic or electrical, the movement assumed every
possible direction--vertical, horizontal, oscillatory, vorticose, and
pulsatory; producing every variety of destruction. In one place, a city
or house was thrown down, in another it was immersed. Here, trees were
buried to their topmost branches, beside others stripped and overturned.
Some mountains opened in the middle, and dispersed their mass to the
right and left, their summits disappearing, or being lost in the
newly-formed valleys; others slipped from their foundations along with
all their edifices, which sometimes were overthrown, but more rarely
remained uninjured, and the inhabitants not even disturbed in their
sleep. The earth opened in many places, forming frightful abysses;
while, at a small distance, it rose into hills. The waters, too, changed
their course; rivers uniting to form lakes, or spreading into marshes;
disappearing, to rise again in new streams, through other banks, or
running at large, to lay bare and desolate the most fertile fields.
Nothing retained its ancient form, cities, roads, and boundaries
vanished,--so that the inhabitants were bewildered as if in an unknown
land. The works of art and of nature, the elaborations of centuries,
together with many a stream and rock, coeval perhaps with the world
itself, were in a single instant destroyed and overthrown....
Whirlwinds, tempests, the flames of volcanoes, and of burning edifices,
rain, wind, and thunder, accompanied the movements of the earth: all the
forces of nature were in activity, and it seemed as if all its laws were
suspended, and the last hour of created things at hand. In the meantime,
the sea between Scylla, Charybdis, and the coasts of Reggio and Messina,
was raised many fathoms above its usual level; overflowing its banks,
and then, in its return to its channel, carrying away men and beasts. By
these means, two thousand persons lost their lives on Scylla alone, who
were either congregated on the sands, or had escaped in boats, from the
dangers of the dry land. Etna and Stromboli were in more than usual
activity: but this hardly excited attention, amidst greater and graver
disasters. A worse fire than that of the volcanoes resulted from the
incidents of the earthquake; for the beams of the falling houses being
ignited by the burning heaths, the flames, fanned by the winds, were so
vast and fierce, that they seemed to issue from the bosom of the earth.
The heavens, alternately cloudy or serene, had given no previous sign of
the approaching calamity; but a new source of suffering followed it, in
a thick fog, which obscured the light of the day, and added to the
darkness of night. Irritating to the eyes, injurious to the respiration,
fetid, and immoveable, it hung over the two Calabrias for more than
twenty days,--an occasion of melancholy, disease, and annoyance, both to
man and to animals....
At the first shock, no token, in heaven or on earth, had excited
attention; but at the sudden movement, and at the aspect of destruction,
an overwhelming terror seized on the general mind, insomuch, that the
instinct of self-preservation was suspended, and men remained
thunderstricken and immoveable. On the return of reason, the first
sentiment was a sort of joy at the partial escape; but they soon gave
place to grief for the loss of family, and the overthrow of the domestic
habitation. Amidst so many aspects of death, and the apprehension even
of approaching judgment, the suspicion that friends were yet alive under
the ruins was the most excruciating affliction, since the impossibility
of assisting them rendered their death--(miserable and terrible
consolation)--a matter of preference and of hope. Fathers and husbands
were seen wandering amidst the ruins that covered the objects of their
affections, and, wanting the power to move the superincumbent masses,
were calling in vain for the assistance of the bystanders; or haply they
lay groaning, night and day, in their despair, upon the ruinous
fragments. But the most horrid fate--(a fate too dreadful to conceive or
to relate)--was theirs, who, buried alive beneath the fallen edifices,
awaited, with an anxious and doubtful hope, the chances of
relief--accusing, at first, the slowness, and then the avarice, of
their dearest relations and friends; and when they sank under hunger and
grief--with their senses and memory beginning to fail them--their last
sentiment was that of indignation against their kindred, and hatred of
humanity. Many were disinterred alive by their friends, and some by the
earthquake itself; which, overthrowing the very ruins it had made,
restored them to light. It was ultimately found, that about a fourth of
those whose bodies were recovered, might have been saved, had timely
assistance been at hand. The men were chiefly found in attitudes
indicating an effort at escape, the women with their hands covering
their face, or desperately plunged in their hair. Mothers were
discovered dead who had striven to protect their infants with their own
bodies, or lay with their arms stretched towards these objects of
affection, when separated from them by intervening masses of ruin.
~Escape from a Ship on Fire.~
From the "Missionary Annual" for 1833.
Many of the party, having retired to their hammocks soon after the
commencement of the storm, were only partially clothed, when they made
their escape; but the seamen on the watch, in consequence of the heavy
rain, having cased themselves in double or treble dresses, supplied
their supernumerary articles of clothing to those who had none. We
happily succeeded in bringing away two compasses from the binnacle, and
a few candles from the cuddy-table, one of them lighted; one bottle of
wine, and another of porter, were handed to us, with the tablecloth and
a knife, which proved very useful; but the fire raged so fiercely in the
body of the vessel, that neither bread nor water could be obtained. The
rain still poured in torrents; the lightning, followed by loud bursting
of thunder, continued to stream from one side of the heavens to the
other,--one moment dazzling us by its glare, and the next moment
leaving us in darkness, relieved only by the red flames of the
conflagration from which we were endeavouring to escape. Our first
object was to proceed to a distance from the vessel, lest she should
explode and overwhelm us; but, to our inexpressible distress, we
discovered that the yawl had no rudder, and that for the two boats we
had only three oars. All exertions to obtain more from the ship proved
unsuccessful. The gig had a rudder; from this they threw out a rope to
take us in tow; and, by means of a few paddles, made by tearing up the
lining of the boat, we assisted in moving ourselves slowly through the
water, providentially the sea was comparatively smooth, or our
overloaded boats would have swamped, and we should only have escaped the
flames to have perished in the deep. The wind was light, but variable,
and, acting on the sails, which, being drenched with the rain, did not
soon take fire, drove the burning mass, in terrific grandeur, over the
surface of the ocean, the darkness of which was only illuminated by the
quick glancing of the lightning or the glare of the conflagration. Our
situation was for some time extremely perilous. The vessel neared us
more than once, and apparently threatened to involve us in one common
destruction. The cargo, consisting of dry provisions, spirits, cotton
goods, and other articles equally combustible, burned with great
violence, while the fury of the destroying element, the amazing height
of the flames, the continued storm, amidst the thick darkness of the
night, rendered the scene appalling and terrible. About ten o'clock, the
masts, after swaying from side to side, fell with a dreadful crash into
the sea, and the hull of the vessel continued to burn amidst the
shattered fragments of the wreck, till the sides were consumed to the
water's edge. The spectacle was truly magnificent, could it even have
been contemplated by us without a recollection of our own circumstances.
The torments endured by the dogs, sheep, and other animals on board, at
any other time would have excited our deepest commiseration; but at
present, the object before us, our stately ship, that had for the last
four months been our social home, the scene of our enjoyments, our
labours, and our rest, now a prey to the destroying element; the
suddenness with which we had been hurried from circumstances of comfort
and comparative security, to those of destitution and peril, and with
which the most exhilarating hopes had been exchanged for disappointment
as unexpected as it was afflictive; the sudden death of the two seamen,
our own narrow escape, and lonely situation on the face of the deep, and
the great probability even yet, although we had succeeded in removing to
a greater distance from the vessel, that we ourselves should never again
see the light of day, or set foot on solid ground, absorbed every
feeling. For some time the silence was scarcely broken, and the thoughts
of many, I doubt not, were engaged on subjects most suitable to immortal
beings on the brink of eternity. The number of persons in the two boats
was forty-eight; and all, with the exception of the two ladies, who bore
this severe visitation with uncommon fortitude, worked by turns at the
oars and paddles. After some time, to our great relief, the rain ceased;
the labour of baling water from the boats was then considerably
diminished. We were frequently hailed during the night by our companions
in the small boat, and returned the call, while the brave and
generous-hearted seamen occasionally enlivened the solitude of the deep
by a simultaneous "Hurra!" to cheer each others' labours, and to animate
their spirits. The Tanjore rose in the water as its contents were
gradually consumed. We saw it burning the whole night, and at day-break
could distinguish a column of smoke, which, however, soon ceased, and
every sign of our favourite vessel disappeared. When the sun rose, our
anxiety and uncertainty as to our situation were greatly relieved by
discovering land ahead; the sight of it filled us with grateful joy,
and nerved us with fresh vigour for the exertion required in managing
the boats. With the advance of the day we discerned more clearly the
nature of the country. It was wild and covered with jungle, without any
appearance of population: could we have got ashore, therefore, many of
us might have perished before assistance could have been procured; but
the breakers, dashing upon the rocks, convinced us that landing was
impracticable. In the course of the morning we discovered a native
vessel, or dhoney, lying at anchor, at some distance: the wind at that
time beginning to favour us, every means was devised to render it
available. In the yawl we extended the tablecloth as a sail, and in the
other boat a blanket served the same purpose. This additional help was
the more seasonable, as the rays of the sun had become almost
intolerable to our partially covered bodies. Some of the seamen
attempted to quench their thirst by salt water: but the passengers
encouraged each other to abstain. About noon we reached the dhoney. The
natives on board were astonished and alarmed at our appearance, and
expressed some unwillingness to receive us; but our circumstances would
admit of no denial; and we scarcely waited till our Singalese
fellow-passenger could interpret to them our situation and our wants,
before we ascended the sides of their vessel, assuring them that every
expense and loss sustained on our account should be amply repaid.
~Anecdotes of the Albatross, &c.~
The author of the following extracts is Mr. Augustus Earle, whose life
has been one of wandering and peril, traversing every quarter of the
globe. The account of his residence for nine months among the New
Zealanders is very interesting; but a description of their cannibal
habits will not suit the taste of many of our young readers. We shall
therefore accompany him to the Island of Tristan d'Acunha, upon which,
by accident, he was left, where he amused himself hunting goats, sea
elephants, albatrosses, and penguins; while, like another Crusoe, he
occasionally watched for the ship that should release him from his
island prison. His work is intitled "Nine Months' Residence in New
Zealand," &c.
THE ALBATROSS.
Being a fine morning, I determined to ascend the mountain. As several
parties had before gone up, they had formed a kind of path: at least we
endeavoured to trace the same way; but it requires a great deal of nerve
to attempt it. The sides of the mountain are nearly perpendicular; but,
after ascending about two hundred feet, it is there entirely covered
with wood, which renders the footing much more safe; but in order to
get to the wood, the road is so dangerous, that it made me almost
tremble to think of it,--slippery grey rocks, and many of them
unfortunately loose, so that when we took hold, they separated from the
mass, and fell with a horrid rumbling noise. Here and there were a few
patches of grass, the only thing we could depend upon to assist us in
climbing, which must be done with extreme caution, for the least slip or
false step would dash one to atoms on the rocks below. By keeping our
eyes constantly looking upwards, and continuing to haul ourselves up, by
catching firm hold on this grass, after an hour's painful toil we gained
the summit, where we found ourselves on an extended plain, of several
miles expanse, which terminates in the peak, composed of dark grey lava,
bare and frightful to behold. We proceeded towards it, the plain
gradually rising, but the walking was most fatiguing, over strong rank
grass and fern several feet high, with holes concealed under the roots
in such a way, that no possible caution could prevent our occasionally
falling down into one or other of them, and entirely disappearing, which
caused a boisterous laugh amongst the rest; but it frequently happened,
while one was making merry at the expense of another, down sunk the
laugher himself. A death-like stillness prevailed in these high regions,
and, to my ear, our voices had a strange, unnatural echo, and I fancied
our forms appeared gigantic, whilst the air was piercing cold. The
prospect was altogether very sublime, and filled the mind with awe! On
the one side, the boundless horizon, heaped up with clouds of silvery
brightness, contrasted with some of darker hue, enveloping us in their
vapour, and, passing rapidly away, gave us only casual glances of the
landscape; and, on the other hand, the sterile and cindery peak, with
its venerable head, partly capped with clouds, partly revealing great
patches of red cinders, or lava, intermingled with the black rock,
produced a most extraordinary and dismal effect. It seemed as though it
were still actually burning, to heighten the sublimity of the scene. The
huge albatross appeared here to dread no interloper or enemy; for their
young were on the ground completely uncovered, and the old ones were
stalking around them. This bird is the largest of the aquatic tribe; and
its plumage is of a most delicate white, excepting the back and the tops
of its wings, which are grey: they lay but one egg, on the ground, where
they form a kind of nest, by scraping the earth round it. After the
young one is hatched, it has to remain a year before it can fly; it is
entirely white, and covered with a woolly down, which is very beautiful.
As we approached them, they clapped their beaks, with a very quick
motion, which made a great noise. This, and throwing up the contents of
the stomach, are the only means of offence and defence they seem to
possess. The old ones, which are valuable on account of their feathers,
my companions made dreadful havoc amongst, knocking on the head all they
could come up with. These birds are very helpless on the land, the
great length of their wings precluding them from rising up into the air,
unless they can get to a steep declivity. On the level ground they were
completely at our mercy, but very little was shewn them; and in a very
short space of time the plain was strewn with their bodies, one blow on
the head generally killing them instantly. Five months after, many of
the young birds were still sitting on their nests, and had never moved
away from them; they remain there for a year before they can fly, and
during that long period are fed by the mother. They had greatly
increased in size and beauty since my first visit to them. The semblance
of the young bird, as it sits on the nest, is stately and beautiful. The
white down, which is its first covering, giving place gradually to its
natural grey plumage, leaves half the creature covered with down; the
other half is a fine compact coat of feathers, composed of white and
grey; while the head is of a dazzling, silvery white. Their size is
prodigious, one of them proving a tolerable load. Upon skinning them,
on our return, we found they were covered with a fine white fat, which I
was told was excellent for frying, and other culinary purposes; and the
flesh was quite as delicate, and could scarcely be distinguished in
flavour from lamb. Besides our albatross, the dogs caught some small
birds, about the size of our partridge, but their gait was something
like that of the penguin. The male is of a glossy black, with a bright
red hard crest on the top of the head. The hen is brown. They stand
erect, and have long yellow legs, with which they run very fast; their
wings are small and useless for flying, but they are armed with sharp
spurs for defence, and also, I imagine, for assisting them in climbing,
as they are found generally among the rocks. The name they give this
bird here is simply "cock," its only note being a noise very much
resembling the repetition of that word. Its flesh is plump, fat, and
excellent eating.
VISIT TO A PENGUIN ROOKERY.
The spot of ground occupied by our settlers is bounded on each side by
high _bluffs_, which extend far into the sea, leaving a space in front,
where all their hogs run nearly wild, as they are prevented going beyond
those limits by those natural barriers; and the creatures who, at stated
periods, come up from the sea, remain in undisturbed possession of the
beaches beyond our immediate vicinity. The weather being favourable, we
launched our boat early in the morning, for the purpose of procuring a
supply of eggs for the consumption of the family. We heard the
chattering of the penguins from the rookery long before we landed, which
was noisy in the extreme, and groups of them were scattered all over the
beach; but the high thick grass on the declivity of the hill seemed
their grand establishment, and they were hidden by it from our view. As
we could not find any place where we could possibly land our boat in
safety, I and two more swam on shore with bags tied round our necks to
hold the eggs in, and the boat with one of the men lay off, out of the
surf. I should think the ground occupied by these _birds_ (if I may be
allowed so to call them) was at least a mile in circumference, covered
in every part with grasses and reeds, which grew considerably higher
than my head; and on every gentle ascent, beginning from the beach, on
all the large grey rocks, which occasionally appeared above this grass,
sat perched groups of these strange and uncouth-looking creatures; but
the noise which rose up from beneath baffles all description! As our
business lay with the noisy part of this community, we quietly crept
under the grass, and commenced our plundering search, though there
needed none, so profuse was the quantity. The scene altogether well
merits a better description than I can give--thousands, and hundreds of
thousands, of these little two-legged erect monsters hopping around us,
with voices very much resembling in tone that of the human; all opened
their throats together: so thickly clustered in groups that it was
almost impossible to place the foot without dispatching one of them. The
shape of the animal, their curious motions, and their most extraordinary
voices, made me fancy myself in a kingdom of pigmies. The regularity of
their manners, their all sitting in exact rows, resembling more the
order of a camp than a rookery of noisy birds, delighted me. These
creatures did not move away on our approach, but only increased their
noise, so we were obliged to displace them forcibly from their nests;
and this ejectment was not produced without a considerable struggle on
their parts; and, being armed with a formidable beak, it soon became a
scene of desperate warfare. We had to take particular care to protect
our hands and legs from their attacks: and for this purpose each one had
provided himself with a short stout club. The noise they continued to
make during our ramble through their territories the sailors said was,
"Cover 'em up, cover 'em up." And, however incredible it may appear, it
is nevertheless true, that I heard those words so distinctly repeated,
and by such various tones of voices, that several times I started, and
expected to see one of the men at my elbow. Even these little creatures,
as well as the monstrous sea elephant, appear to keep up a continued
warfare with each other. As the penguins sit in rows, forming regular
lanes leading down to the beach, whenever one of them feels an
inclination to refresh herself by a plunge into the sea, she has to run
the gauntlet through the whole _street_, every one pecking at her as she
passes without mercy; and though all are occupied in the same
employment, not the smallest degree of friendship seems to exist; and
whenever we turned one off her nest, she was sure to be thrown amongst
foes; and, besides the loss of her eggs, was invariably doomed to
receive a severe beating and pecking from her companions. Each one lays
three eggs, and after a time, when the young are strong enough to
undertake the journey, they go to sea, and are not again seen till the
ensuing spring. Their city is deserted of its numerous inhabitants, and
quietness reigns till nature prompts their return the following year,
when the same noisy scene is repeated, as the same flock of birds
returns to the spot where they were hatched. After raising a tremendous
tumult in this numerous colony, and sustaining continued combat, we came
off victorious, making capture of about a thousand eggs, resembling in
size, colour, and transparency of shell, those of a duck; and the taking
possession of this immense quantity did not occupy more than one hour,
which may serve to prove the incalculable number of birds collected
together. We did not allow them sufficient time, after landing, to lay
all their eggs; for, had the season been further advanced, and we had
found three eggs in each nest, the whole of them might probably have
proved addled, the young partly formed, and the eggs of no use to us;
but the whole of those we took turned out good, and had a particularly
fine and delicate flavour. It was a work of considerable difficulty to
get our booty safe into the boat--so frail a cargo--with so tremendous a
surf running against us. However, we finally succeeded, though not
without smashing a considerable number of the eggs.
THE SEA ELEPHANT.
I saw, for the first time, what the settlers call a _pod_ of sea
elephants. At this particular season these animals lay strewed about the
beach, and, unless you disturb them, the sight of a man will not
frighten them away. I was determined to get a good portrait of some of
them, and accordingly took my sketch-book and pencil, and seated myself
very near to one of them, and began my operations, feeling sure I had
now got a most patient sitter, for they will lie for weeks together
without stirring; but I had to keep throwing small pebbles at him, in
order to make him open his eyes, and prevent his going to sleep. The
flies appear to torment these unwieldy monsters most cruelly, their
eyes and nostrils being stuffed full of them. I got a good sketch of the
group. They appeared to stare at me occasionally with some little
astonishment, stretching up their immense heads and looking around; but
finding all still (I suppose they considered me a mere rock), they
composed themselves to sleep again. They are the most shapeless
creatures about the body. I could not help comparing them to an
over-grown maggot, and their motion is similar to that insect. The face
bears some rude resemblance to the human countenance; the eye is large,
black, and expressive; excepting two very small flippers or paws at the
shoulder, the whole body tapers down to a fish's tail; they are of a
delicate mouse colour, the fur is very fine, but too oily for any other
purpose than to make mocassins for the islanders. The bull is of an
enormous size, and would weigh as heavily as his namesake of the land;
and in that one thing consists their only resemblance, for no two
animals can possibly be more unlike each other. It is a very curious
phenomenon, how they can possibly exist on shore; for, from the first
of their landing, they never go out to sea, and they lie on a stormy
beach for months together without tasting any food, except consuming
their own fat, for they gradually waste away; and as this fat or blubber
is the great object of value, for which they are attacked and
slaughtered, the settlers contrive to commence operations against them
upon their first arrival, for it is well ascertained that they take no
sustenance whatever on shore. I examined the contents of the stomach of
one they had just killed, but could not make out the nature of what it
contained. The matter was of a remarkably bright green colour. They have
many enemies, even in the water; one called the killer, a species of
grampus, which makes terrible havoc amongst them, and will attack and
take away the carcass of one from alongside a boat. But man is their
greatest enemy, and causes the most destruction to their race: he
pursues them to all quarters of the globe.
VISIT FROM THE NATIVES AT TERRA DEL FUEGO.
During our stay, we had, at various times, visits from the natives. They
were all at first very shy, but after they found our friendly
disposition towards them, they became more sociable and confiding.
On the 11th of March three bark canoes arrived, containing four men,
four women, and a girl about sixteen years old, four little boys and
four infants, one of the latter about a week old, and quite naked. They
had rude weapons, viz. slings to throw stones, three rude spears,
pointed at the end with bone, and notched on one side with barbed teeth.
With this they catch their fish, which are in great quantities among the
kelp. Two of the natives were induced to come on board, after they had
been alongside for upwards of an hour, and received many presents, for
which they gave their spears, a dog, and some of their rude native
trinkets. They did not shew or express surprise at anything on board,
except when seeing one of the carpenters engaged in boring a hole with a
screw-auger through a plank, which would have been a long task for them.
They were very talkative, smiling when spoken to, and often bursting
into loud laughter, but instantly settling into their natural serious
and sober cast.
They were found to be great mimics, both in gesture and sound, and would
repeat any word of our language, with great correctness of
pronunciation. Their imitations of sounds were truly astonishing.
Their mimicry became at length annoying, and precluded our getting at
any of their words or ideas. It not only extended to words or sounds,
but actions also, and was at times truly ridiculous. The usual manner of
interrogating for names was quite unsuccessful. On pointing to the nose,
for instance, they did the same. Anything they saw done they would
mimic, and with an extraordinary degree of accuracy. On these canoes
approaching the ship, the principal one of the family, or chief,
standing up in his canoe, made a harangue. Although they have been
heard to shout quite loud, yet they cannot endure a noise; and when the
drum beat, or a gun was fired, they invariably stopped their ears. They
always speak to each other in a whisper.
The women were never suffered to come on board. They appeared modest in
the presence of strangers. They never move from a sitting posture, or
rather a squat, with their knees close together, reaching to their chin,
their feet in contact, and touching the lower part of the body. They are
extremely ugly. Their hands and feet were small and well shaped; and,
from appearance, they are not accustomed to do any hard work. They
appear very fond and seem careful of their young children, though on
several occasions they offered them for sale for a trifle. They have
their faces smutted all over, and it was thought, from the hideous
appearance of the females, produced in part by their being painted and
smutted, that they had been disfigured by the men previous to coming
alongside. It was remarked, that when one of them saw herself in a
looking-glass, she burst into tears, as Jack thought, from pure
mortification.
Before they left the ship, the greater part of them were dressed in old
clothes, that had been given to them by the officers and men, who all
shewed themselves extremely anxious "to make them comfortable," This
gave rise to much merriment, as Jack was not disposed to allow any
difficulties to interfere in the fitting. If the jackets proved too
tight across the shoulders, which they invariably were, a slit down the
back effectually remedied the defect. If a pair of trousers was found
too small around the waist, the knife was again resorted to; and in some
cases a fit was made by severing the legs. The most difficult fit, and
the one which produced the most merriment, was that of a woman, to whom
an old coat was given. This, she concluded belonged to her nether limbs,
and no signs, hints, or shouts, could correct her mistake. Her feet were
thrust through the sleeves, and, after hard squeezing, she succeeded in
drawing them on. With the skirts brought up in front, she took her seat
in the canoe with great satisfaction, amid a roar of laughter from all
who saw her.
CHILIAN MODE OF CAPTURING WILD HORSES.
A party of four or five horsemen, with about twenty dogs, were seen
formed in an extended crescent, driving the wild horses towards the
river with shouts. All were armed with the lasso, which was swinging
over their heads, to be in readiness to entrap the first that attempted
to break through the gradually contracting segment; the dogs serving
with the riders to head the horses in. They continued to advance, when
suddenly a horse with furious speed broke the line, passing near one of
the horsemen, and for a moment it was thought he had escaped; the next
he was jerked round with a force that seemed sufficient to have broken
his neck, the horseman having, the moment the lasso was thrown, turned
round and braced himself for the shock. The captured horse now began to
rear and plunge furiously to effect his escape. After becoming somewhat
worn out, he was suffered to run, and again suddenly checked. This was
repeated several times, when another plan was adopted. The dogs were set
on him, and off he went at full run, in the direction of another
horseman, who threw his lasso to entangle his legs and precipitate him
to the ground. The dogs again roused him, when he again started, and was
in like manner brought to a stand. After several trials he became
completely exhausted and subdued, when he stood perfectly still, and
allowed his captors to lay hands upon him. The shouts of the men, the
barking of the dogs, and the scampering of the horses, made the whole
scene extremely exciting.
FIGHT BETWEEN A WHALE AND A KILLER.
This day, on board the Peacock, they witnessed a sea-fight between a
whale and one of its many enemies. The sea was quite smooth, and offered
the best possible view of the whole combat. First, at a distance from
the ship, a whale was seen floundering in a most extraordinary way,
lashing the smooth sea into a perfect foam, and endeavouring apparently
to extricate himself from some annoyance. As he approached the ship, the
struggle continuing and becoming more violent, it was perceived that a
fish, apparently about twenty feet long, held him by the jaw, his
contortions, spouting, and throes, all betokening the agony of the huge
monster. The whale now threw himself at full length from the water with
open mouth, his pursuer still hanging to the jaw, the blood issuing from
the wound and dyeing the sea to a distance around; but all his
flounderings were of no avail; his pertinacious enemy still maintained
his hold, and was evidently getting the advantage of him. Much alarm
seemed to be felt by the many other whales around. These "killers," as
they are called, are of a brownish colour on the back, and white on the
belly, with a long dorsal fin. Such was the turbulence with which they
passed, that a good view could not be had of them to make out more
nearly the description. These fish attack a whale in the same way as
dogs bait a bull, and worry him to death. They are armed with strong
sharp teeth, and generally seize the whale by the lower jaw. It is said
that the only part of them they eat is the tongue. The whalers give some
marvellous accounts of these killers, and of their immense strength;
among them, that they have been known to drag a whale away from several
boats which were towing it to the ship.
WAR DANCES OF THE NEW ZEALANDERS.
Wishing to see their war-dances, I requested the chief Pomare to gratify
us with an exhibition, which he consented to do. The ground chosen was
the hillside of Mr. Clendon, our consul's place, where between three and
four hundred natives, with their wives and children, assembled. Pomare
divided the men into three parties or squads, and stationed these at
some distance from each other. Shortly after this was done, I received a
message from him, to say that they were all hungry, and wanted me to
treat them to something to eat. This was refused until they had finished
their dance, and much delay took place in consequence. Pomare and his
warriors were at first immoveable; but they, in a short time, determined
they would unite on the hill-top, which was accordingly ordered,
although I was told they were too hungry to dance well. Here they
arranged themselves in a solid column, and began stamping, shouting,
jumping, and shaking their guns, clubs, and paddles in the air, with
violent gesticulations, to a sort of savage time. A more grotesque group
cannot well be imagined; dressed, half-dressed, or entirely naked. After
much preliminary action, they all set off, with a frantic shout, at full
speed in a war-charge, which not only put to flight all the animals that
were feeding in the neighbourhood, but startled the spectators. After
running about two hundred and fifty yards, they fired their guns and
halted, with another shout. They then returned in the same manner, and
stopped before us, a truly savage multitude, wrought up to apparent
frenzy, and exhibiting all the modes practised of maiming and killing
their enemies, until they became exhausted, and lay down on the ground
like tired dogs, panting for breath. One of the chiefs then took an old
broken dragoon-sword, and began running to and fro before us,
flourishing it, and, at the same time, delivering a speech at the top of
his voice. The speech, as interpreted to me, ran thus: "You are welcome,
you are our friends, and we are glad to see you," frequently repeated.
After three or four had shewn off in this way, they determined they must
have something to eat, saying that I had promised them rice and sugar,
and they ought to have it. Mr. Clendon, however, persuaded them to give
one of their feast-dances. The performers consisted of about fifteen
old, and as many young persons, whom they arranged in close order. The
young girls laid aside a part of their dress to exhibit their forms to
more advantage, and they commenced a kind of recitative, accompanied by
all manner of gesticulations, with a sort of guttural husk for a chorus.
It was not necessary to understand their language to comprehend their
meaning; and it is unnecessary to add, that their tastes did not appear
very refined, but were similar to what we have constantly observed among
the heathen nations of Polynesia. Their impatience now became
ungovernable; and hearing that the rice and sugar were being served out,
they retreated precipitately down the hill, where they all set to most
heartily, with their wives and children, to devour the food. This, to
me, was the most entertaining part of the exhibition. They did not
appear selfish towards each other; the children were taken care of, and
all seemed to enjoy themselves. I received many thanks in passing among
them, and their countenances betokened contentment. Although they were
clothed for the occasion in their best, they exhibited but a squalid and
dirty appearance, both in their dress and persons.
* * * * *
We now end our extracts from this very entertaining Work,--upon the
resources of which we have so largely drawn,--by the history of Paddy
Connel, as described by himself, and who had been a resident among the
Feejeean savages for nearly forty years.
HISTORY OF PADDY CONNEL.
One day, while at the Observatory, I was greatly surprised at seeing one
whom I took to be a Feejeeman, enter my tent, a circumstance so
inconsistent with the respect to our prescribed limit, of which I have
spoken. His colour, however, struck me as lighter than that of any
native I had yet seen. He was a short wrinkled old man, but appeared to
possess great vigour and activity. He had a beard that reached to his
middle, and but little hair, of a reddish-grey colour, on his head. He
gave me no time for inquiry, but at once addressed me in broad Irish,
with a rich Milesian brogue. In a few minutes he made me acquainted with
his story, which, by his own account, was as follows:--
His name was Paddy Connel, but the natives called him Berry; he was born
in the county of Clare, in Ireland; had run away from school when he was
a little fellow, and after wandering about as a vagabond, was pressed
into the army in the first Irish rebellion. At the time the French
landed in Ireland, the regiment to which he was attached marched at once
against the enemy, and soon arrived on the field of battle, where they
were brought to the charge. The first thing he knew or heard, the drums
struck up a White Boy's tune, and his whole regiment went over and
joined the French, with the exception of the officers, who had to flee.
They were then marched against the British, and were soon defeated by
Lord Cornwallis; it was a hard fight, and Paddy found himself among the
slain. When he thought the battle was over, and night came on, he
crawled off and reached home. He was then taken up and tried for his
life, but was acquitted; he was, however, remanded to prison, and busied
himself in effecting the escape of some of his comrades. On this being
discovered, he was confined in the black hole, and soon after sent to
Cork, to be put on board a convict-ship bound to New South Wales. When
he arrived there, his name was not found on the books of the prisoners;
consequently he had been transported by mistake, and was, therefore, set
at liberty. He then worked about for several years, and collected a
small sum of money, but unfortunately fell into bad company, got drunk,
and lost it all. Just about this time Captain Sartori, of the ship
General Wellesley, arrived at Sydney. Having lost a great part of his
crew by sickness and desertion, he desired to procure hands for his
ship, which was still at Sandalwood Bay, and obtained thirty-five men,
one of whom was Paddy Connel. At the time they were ready to depart, a
French privateer, Le Gloriant, Captain Dubardieu, put into Sydney, when
Captain Sartori engaged a passage for himself and his men to the
Feejees. On their way they touched at Norfolk Island, where the ship
struck, and damaged her keel so much that they were obliged to put into
the Bay of Islands for repairs. Paddy asserts that a difficulty had
occurred here between Captain Sartori and his men about their
provisions, which was amicably settled. The Gloriant finally sailed from
New Zealand for Tongataboo, where they arrived just after the capture of
a vessel, which he supposed to have been the Port au Prince, as they had
obtained many articles from the natives, which had evidently belonged to
some large vessel. Here they remained some months, and then sailed for
Sandalwood Bay, where the men, on account of their former quarrel with
Captain Sartori, refused to go on board the General Wellesley: some of
them shipped on board the Gloriant, and others, with Paddy, determined
to remain on shore with the natives. He added, that Captain Sartori was
kind to him, and at parting had given him a pistol, cutlass, and an old
good-for-nothing musket; these, with his sea-chest and a few clothes,
were all that he possessed. He had now lived forty years among these
savages. After hearing his whole story, I told him I did not believe a
word of it; to which he answered, that the main part of it was true, but
he might have made some mistakes, as he had been so much in the habit of
lying to the Feejeeans, that he hardly now knew when he told the truth,
adding, that he had no desire to tell anything but the truth.
Paddy turned out to be a very amusing fellow, and possessed an accurate
knowledge of the Feejee character. Some of the whites told me that he
was more than half Feejee; indeed he seemed to delight in shewing how
nearly he was allied to them in feeling and propensities; and, like
them, seemed to fix his attention upon trifles. He gave me a droll
account of his daily employments, which it would be inappropriate to
give here, and finished by telling me the only wish he had then, was to
get for his little boy, on whom he doated, a small hatchet; and the only
articles he had to offer for it were a few old hens. On my asking him if
he did not cultivate the ground, he said at once no; he found it much
easier to get his living by telling the Feejeeans stories, which he
could always make good enough for them;--these, and the care of his two
little boys, and his hens, and his pigs, when he had any, gave him ample
employment and plenty of food. He had lived much at Rewa, and, until
lately, had been a resident at Levuka, but had, in consequence of his
intrigues, been expelled by the white residents, to the island of
Ambatiki. It appeared that they had unanimously come to the conclusion,
that if he did not remove, they would be obliged to put him to death for
their own safety. I could not induce Whippy or Tom to give me the
circumstances that occasioned this determination; and Paddy would not
communicate more than that his residence on Ambatiki was a forced one,
and that it was as though he was living out of the world, rearing pigs,
fowls, and children. Of the last description of live stock he had
forty-eight, and hoped that he might live to see fifty born to him. He
had had one hundred wives.
~Extraordinary Escape from Drowning.~
The following Narrative of an extraordinary escape from drowning, after
being wrecked among the Rapids of the St. Lawrence, first appeared in
the _Liverpool Mercury_, the Editors of which state that they have
published it by permission of the writer, who is a well-known merchant
of great respectability in that city. We have extracted it from the
pages of the _Edinburgh Magazine_, the Editor of which remarks,--"We
have been induced to transfer it into our Miscellany, not merely from
the uncommon interest of the detail, but because we happen to be able to
vouch for its authenticity."
On the 22nd day of April, 1810, our party set sail in a large schooner
from Fort-George, or Niagara Town, and in two days crossed Lake Ontario
to Kingston, at the head of the river St. Lawrence, distant from Niagara
about 200 miles. Here we hired an American barge (a large flat-bottomed
boat) to carry us to Montreal, a further distance of 200 miles; then set
out from Kingston on the 28th of April, and arrived the same evening at
Ogdensburgh, a distance of 75 miles. The following evening we arrived
at Cornwall, and the succeeding night at Pointe du Lac, on Lake St.
Francis. Here our bargemen obtained our permission to return up the
river; and we embarked in another barge, deeply laden with potashes,
passengers, and luggage. Above Montreal, for nearly 100 miles, the river
St. Lawrence is interrupted in its course by rapids, which are
occasioned by the river being confined in comparatively narrow, shallow,
rocky channels;--through these it rushes with great force and noise, and
is agitated like the ocean in a storm. Many people prefer these rapids,
for grandeur of appearance, to the Falls of Niagara. They are from half
a mile to nine miles long each, and require regular pilots. On the 30th
of April we arrived at the village of the Cedars, immediately below
which are three sets of very dangerous rapids (the Cedars, the
Split-rock, and the Cascades), distant from each other about one mile.
On the morning of the 1st of May we set out from the Cedars, the barge
very deep and very leaky. The captain, a daring rash man, refused to
take a pilot. After we passed the Cedar rapid, not without danger, the
captain called for some rum, swearing, at the same time, that ---- could
not steer the barge better than he did! Soon after this we entered the
Split-rock rapids by a wrong channel, and found ourselves advancing
rapidly towards a dreadful watery precipice, down which we went. The
barge slightly grazed her bottom against the rock, and the fall was so
great as to nearly take away the breath. We here took in a great deal of
water, which was mostly baled out again before we were hurried on to
what the Canadians call the "grand bouillon," or great boiling. In
approaching this place the captain let go the helm, saying, "Here we
fill!" The barge was almost immediately overwhelmed in the midst of
immense foaming breakers, which rushed over the bows, carrying away
planks, oars, &c. About half a minute elapsed between the filling and
going down of the barge, during which I had sufficient presence of mind
to rip off my three coats, and was loosening my suspenders, when the
barge sunk, and I found myself floating in the midst of people, baggage,
&c. Each man caught hold of something; one of the crew caught hold of
me, and kept me down under water, but, contrary to my expectation, let
me go again. On rising to the surface, I got hold of a trunk, on which
two other men were then holding. Just at this spot, where the Split-rock
rapids terminate, the bank of the river is well inhabited; and we could
see women on shore running about much agitated. A canoe put off, and
picked up three of our number, who had gained the bottom of the barge,
which had upset and got rid of its cargo; these they landed on an
island. The canoe put off again, and was approaching near to where I
was, with two others, holding on by the trunk, when, terrified with the
vicinity of the Cascades, to which we were approaching, it put back,
notwithstanding my exhortations, in French and English, to induce the
two men on board to advance. The bad hold which one man had of the
trunk, to which we were adhering, subjected him to constant immersion;
and, in order to escape his seizing hold of me, I let go the trunk, and,
in conjunction with another man, got hold of the boom, (which, with the
gaff, sails, &c., had been detached from the mast, to make room for the
cargo,) and floated off. I had just time to grasp this boom, when we
were hurried into the Cascades; in these I was instantly buried, and
nearly suffocated. On rising to the surface, I found one of my hands
still on the boom, and my companion also adhering to the gaff. Shortly
after descending the Cascades, I perceived the barge, bottom upwards,
floating near me. I succeeded in getting to it, and held by a crack in
one end of it; the violence of the water, and the falling out of the
casks of ashes, had quite wrecked it. For a long time I contented myself
with this hold, not daring to endeavour to get upon the bottom, which I
at length effected; and from this, my new situation, I called out to my
companion, who still preserved his hold of the gaff. He shook his head;
and, when the waves suffered me to look up again, he was gone. He made
no attempt to come near me, being unable or unwilling to let go his
hold, and trust himself to the waves, which were then rolling over his
head.
The Cascades are a kind of fall, or rapid descent, in the river, over a
rocky channel below: going down is called, by the French, "Sauter," to
leap or shove the cascades. For two miles below, the channel continues
in uproar, just like a storm at sea; and I was frequently nearly washed
off the barge by the waves which rolled over. I now entertained no hope
whatever of escaping; and although I continued to exert myself to hold
on, such was the state to which I was reduced by cold, that I wished
only for speedy death, and frequently thought of giving up the contest
as useless. I felt as if compressed into the size of a monkey; my hands
appeared diminished in size one-half; and I certainly should (after I
became cold and much exhausted) have fallen asleep, but for the waves
that were passing over me, and obliged me to attend to my situation. I
had never descended the St. Lawrence before, but I knew there were more
rapids a-head, perhaps another set of the Cascades, but at all events
the La Chine rapids, whose situation I did not exactly know. I was in
hourly expectation of these putting an end to me, and often fancied some
points of ice extending from the shore to be the head of foaming rapids.
At one of the moments in which the succession of waves permitted me to
look up, I saw at a distance a canoe with four men coming towards me,
and waited in confidence to hear the sound of their paddles; but in this
I was disappointed; the men, as I afterwards learnt, were Indians
(genuine descendants of the Tartars) who, happening to fall in with one
of the passenger's trunks, picked it up, and returned to shore for the
purpose of pillaging it, leaving, as they since acknowledged, the man on
the boat to his fate. Indeed, I am certain I should have had more to
fear from their avarice, than to hope from their humanity; and it is
more than probable, that my life would have been taken to secure them in
the possession of my watch and several half-eagles, which I had about
me.
The accident happened at eight o'clock in the morning. In the course of
some hours, as the day advanced, the sun grew warmer, the wind blew from
the south, and the water became calmer. I got upon my knees, and found
myself in the small lake St. Louis, about from three to five miles wide;
with some difficulty I got upon my feet, but was soon convinced, by
cramps and spasms in all my sinews, that I was quite incapable of
swimming any distance, and I was then two miles from shore. I was now
going, with wind and current, to destruction; and cold, hungry, and
fatigued, was obliged again to sit down in the water to rest, when an
extraordinary circumstance greatly relieved me. On examining the wreck,
to see if it was possible to detach any part of it to steer by, I
perceived something loose, entangled in a fork of the wreck, and so
carried along. This I found to be a small trunk, bottom upwards, which,
with some difficulty, I dragged up upon the barge. After near an hour's
work, in which I broke my pen-knife, trying to cut out the lock, I made
a hole in the top, and, to my great satisfaction, drew out a bottle of
rum, a cold tongue, some cheese, and a bag full of bread, cakes, &c.,
all wet. Of these I made a very seasonable, though very moderate use,
and the trunk answered the purpose of a chair to sit upon, elevated
above the surface of the water.
After in vain endeavouring to steer the wreck, or direct its course to
the shore, and having made every signal (with my waistcoat, &c.) in my
power, to the several headlands which I had passed, I fancied I was
driving into a bay, which, however, soon proved to be the termination of
the lake, and the opening of the river, the current of which was
carrying me rapidly along. I passed several small uninhabited islands;
but the banks of the river appearing to be covered with houses, I again
renewed my signals with my waistcoat and a shirt, which I took out of
the trunk, hoping, as the river narrowed, they might be perceived; the
distance was too great. The velocity with which I was going convinced me
of my near approach to the dreadful rapids of La Chine. Night was
drawing on; my destruction appeared certain, but did not disturb me
very much: the idea of death had lost its novelty, and become quite
familiar. Finding signals in vain, I now set up a cry or howl, such as I
thought best calculated to carry to a distance, and, being favoured by
the wind, it did, although at above a mile distance, reach the ears of
some people on shore. At last I perceived a boat rowing towards me,
which, being very small and white-bottomed, I had some time taken for a
fowl with a white breast; and I was taken off the barge by Captain
Johnstone, after being ten hours on the water. I found myself at the
village of La Chine, 21 miles below where the accident happened, and
having been driven by the winding of the current a much greater
distance. I received no other injury than bruised knees and breast, with
a slight cold. The accident took some hold of my imagination, and, for
seven or eight succeeding nights, in my dreams, I was engaged in the
dangers of the Cascades, and surrounded by drowning men.
My escape was owing to a concurrence of fortunate circumstances, which
appear almost providential. I happened to catch hold of various articles
of support, and to exchange each article for another just at the right
time. Nothing but the boom could have carried me down the Cascades
without injury; and nothing but the barge could have saved me below
them. I was also fortunate in having the whole day. Had the accident
happened one hour later, I should have arrived opposite the village of
La Chine after dark, and, of course, would have been destroyed in the
rapids below, to which I was rapidly advancing. The trunk which
furnished me with provisions and a resting-place above the water, I have
every reason to think, was necessary to save my life; without it I must
have passed the whole time in the water, and been exhausted with cold
and hunger. When the people on shore saw our boat take the wrong
channel, they predicted our destruction: the floating luggage, by
supporting us for a time, enabled them to make an exertion to save us;
but as it was not supposed possible to survive the passage of the
Cascades, no further exertions were thought of, nor indeed could they
well have been made.
It was at this very place that General Ambert's brigade of 300 men,
coming to attack Canada, was lost; the French at Montreal received the
first intelligence of the invasion, by the dead bodies floating past the
town. The pilot who conducted the first batteaux, committing the same
error that we did, ran for the wrong channel, and the other batteaux
following close, all were involved in the same destruction. The whole
party with which I was escaped; four left the barge at the Cedar
village, above the rapids, and went to Montreal by land; two more were
saved by the canoe; the barge's crew, all accustomed to labour, were
lost. Of the eight men who passed down the Cascades, none but myself
escaped, or were seen again; nor indeed was it possible for any one,
without my extraordinary luck, and the aid of the barge, to which they
must have been very close, to have escaped; the other men must have
been drowned immediately on entering the Cascades. The trunks, &c., to
which they adhered, and the heavy great-coats which they had on, very
probably helped to overwhelm them; but they must have gone at all
events; swimming in such a current of broken stormy waves was
impossible. Still I think my knowing how to swim kept me more collected,
and rendered me more willing to part with one article of support to gain
a better. Those who could not swim would naturally cling to whatever
hold they first got, and, of course, many had very bad ones. The Captain
passed me above the Cascades, on a sack of woollen clothes, which were
doubtless soon saturated and sunk.
The trunk which I picked up belonged to a young man from Upper Canada,
who was one of those drowned; it contained clothes, and about L70 in
gold, which was restored to his friends. My own trunk contained, besides
clothes, about L200 in gold and bank notes. On my arrival at La Chine, I
offered a reward of 100 dollars, which induced a Canadian to go in
search of it. He found it, some days after, on the shore of an island on
which it had been driven, and brought it to La Chine, where I happened
to be at the time. I paid him his reward, and understood that above
one-third of it was to be immediately applied to the purchase of a
certain number of masses which he had vowed, in the event of success,
previous to his setting out on the search.
* * * * *
~Adventure in the Desert, and Murder of a Sheikh.~
I was awakened for a few minutes, as early as three o'clock on the
following morning, by the sound of many voices in loud and earnest
conversation, amongst which I recognised that of Sheikh Suleiman; but as
noisy conversations at such early hours are by no means uncommon with
these restless spirits of the wilderness, I gave no heed to it, and
composed myself for sleep again, intending to rise by about half after
four, in order to get a dip in the Red Sea, before resuming the march;
and this intention I fulfilled; but just while throwing on the few
clothes I had taken with me, I heard suddenly a loud strife of many
tongues bursting forth, not in our encampment, but in a small copse or
grove of palm trees, about two hundred yards distant. At once the
thought rushed upon my mind, that the Mezzeni had overtaken us, and were
meditating an attack, now that we were so near the place of their main
encampment. This was directly confirmed by the sound of a gun-shot in
the palm-grove, which was soon followed up by a second. I ran up towards
the encampment as rapidly as possible; and just as I reached it, another
shot rang awfully upon my ear. I found our party in a state of the
greatest consternation, and gathered closely together, gazing wildly
towards the grove. The first thing I learnt, was the harrowing fact,
that poor Suleiman had just been murdered by the Mezzeni! It was an
astounding announcement. To what would this desperate blow lead--here,
in the Desert? The prospect of further bloodshed was terrible. It would
have been insupportable, but for the influence of that inward calmness
which is the privilege of the children of God. We were braced up for the
worst, and stood gazing upon the scene, in full expectation that out of
a deep and deadly spirit of revenge, we should be immediately
overpowered by the enemy, and held entirely at their mercy--as any shew
of defence against so many as had now come down upon us, would have been
utterly futile, and might have led to the destruction of us all. How
wild and desolate this awful theatre of death appeared, while, with the
sound of gun-shots still vibrating in our ears, we thought of Suleiman
writhing in his death-throes, and anxiously watched the movements of the
murderers. We were motionless--almost breathless. Each man among us
gazed silently upon his fellow. Our suspense was not of great duration,
but long enough to get the heart secretly lifted up in communion with a
God of mercy. And there was sweet peacefulness in that brief
exercise.... My worst fears were groundless. The hearts of all men are
in God's hands. Our helplessness must have been a powerful matter of
temptation to the blood-stained men, over whom the departed soul of
Suleiman was hovering. But God restrained them....
Having slaughtered their victim, the Mezzeni (of whom above forty were
counted), quietly marched back towards Nuweibia, without exchanging even
a word with us; leaving behind them the corpse of poor Suleiman--a sad
memorial of their malignant vengeance; while several others of their
tribe, who had been lying in ambush beyond the scene of terror, came
forth from their hiding-places, and joined their retreating comrades.
My heart almost sickens at the recollection of this dreadful
transaction, while referring to the notes made on the spot, and
compiling from them the particulars of this sad page.
As soon as the enemy had fairly departed, I took Hassenein with me, and
advanced carefully towards the copse of palm trees, where I found the
mangled body of poor Suleiman quite dead, but with the agony of the
death-pang still visible on his sunburnt and swarthy features. It was a
terrible sight, thus to behold the leader and confidential companion of
our wild route, lying as the clods of the valley, and saturated with his
own life-blood. And how, in a Christian's heart, was the sense of the
sad reality heightened, by knowing that the poor sufferer was a follower
of the false prophet--a Mahommedan--ignorant of Him who was "delivered
for our offences, and raised again for our justification." I have seen
death in many forms; but I never beheld it with so dread an aspect as it
here assumed.
I was more than half inclined to withhold the minute particulars of the
dark tragedy, when arriving at this part of my narrative; but they now
fasten themselves upon my mind, and I feel constrained to leave them on
record.
Suleiman had received three balls through his body, and four
sabre-gashes on his head, which was also nearly severed from the trunk;
and his right arm, which had been evidently raised in an attempt at
warding off a blow, was all but divided near the wrist. We returned to
the encampment, where our Arabs were sitting together, still terrified.
At length a few of them who volunteered their aid, went and washed the
body--wrapped it in an unfolded turban, and prepared it for immediate
interment. They hastily formed a resting-place, about a mile upwards,
towards the hills which skirted the plain in which we were encamped, by
raising four walls of large loose stones. Having made all ready, they
brought up the remains of their leader, laid across the back of his
camel, and, with deep emotion, deposited them in their final abode,
arching it over with large masses of stone, and quitting it with what
appeared to me like deep expressions of vengeance against the tribe, on
which lay the guilt of his murder.
I turned away from the tomb with a heavy heart.... Was my way to the
Holy City of my God to be tracked with blood?
On making a careful inquiry into the particulars immediately connected
with this sad catastrophe, I collected the following:--It appeared, that
while we were resting on the previous day at Wadey el Ayun, the Mezzeni
came down in order to make a final effort at supporting, without
bloodshed, their claim to conduct travellers through their territory to
Akabah. Sheikh Furriqh was of the number, as I have already stated. When
he was about to retire, after an unsuccessful attempt, an Arab of his
tribe came and secretly informed him that his (Furriqh's) nephew had
been shot on the previous day by one of Suleiman's tribe, in reference
to the very question then pending. On receiving this information,
Furriqh at once broke off all negotiation, and quitted the encampment.
It is believed that Suleiman never knew the fact which had been
communicated to Furriqh; but news was brought to him that the Mezzeni
intended to pursue us with an increased force; and this quite accounts
for all the anxiety and timidity which he evinced during the afternoon
and evening preceding his death. It appears that the Mezzeni, bent on
accomplishing their purpose, gathered together their force, and,
following us at dromedary speed, arrived at the encampment as early as
two o'clock in the morning--that a deputation from them came to
Suleiman, while some of the rest remained in the palm-grove, and others
went in advance, and formed ambuscades--that Sheikh Furriqh was one of
the deputation--that Suleiman shewed them the usual hospitality of
breaking bread with them--that the conference ended without any
adjustment of the matter in dispute--that after the deputation had
retired to the copse, two Arabs of a neutral tribe, who had come with us
from Mount Sinai, went to the Mezzeni in order to mediate, but were
unsuccessful--that while they remained Suleiman was sent for, and that
having broken bread with the Mezzeni, he had a right to expect that his
life would be held sacred--that Suleiman had scarcely reached the
adverse party, when Sheikh Furriqh said--"We do not care about the
money, but there is blood between us;"--that instantly one of the
Mezzeni shot him through the body, and that Furriqh cut him down with
his sabre, while two other shots which were fired took effect upon him.
My recollection of Furriqh, from the first moment that he appeared in
our caravan, is such as to convince me that he would readily commit such
an act as this--so subtle--so cruel--so cowardly--without one feeling of
remorse or misgiving.
POPULAR JUVENILE BOOKS,
Of established reputation, which may be safely placed into the hands of
Children, blending Amusement with Instruction.
* * * * *
DARTON'S HOLIDAY LIBRARY.
A SERIES OF SHILLING VOLUMES FOR THE YOUNG, BY APPROVED AUTHORS.
No. 1. MARY LEESON, by MARY HOWITT. Illustrated by JOHN ABSOLON.
No. 2. TAKE CARE OF No. 1, or Good to Me includes Good to Thee, by S.E.
GOODRICH, Esq., (the Original Peter Parley). Illustrated by GILBERT.
No. 3. HOW TO SPEND A WEEK HAPPILY, by Mrs. BURBURY. With Illustrations.
No. 4. POEMS FOR YOUNG CHILDREN, by "ADELAIDE," one of the amiable
Authoresses of "Original Poems." With Illustrations.
No. 5. THE YOUNG LORD, by CAMILLA TOULMIN; and VICTORINE DUROCHER, by
Mrs. SHERWOOD. With Illustrations.
No. 6. PAULINE, a Tale from the German. With Illustrations.
No. 7. HOUSEHOLD STORIES. With Illustrations.
Nos. 8 & 9. IN-DOOR AND OUT-DOOR SPORTS.
No. 10. STORIES OF ENTERPRISE AND ADVENTURE; or AN EXCITEMENT TO
READING. Illustrated with Wood Engravings from Designs by ABSOLON.
No. 11. THE BOOK OF RIDDLES, ETC.
Critical Remarks.
"The Volumes of DARTON'S HOLIDAY LIBRARY which have reached us, comprise
a most interesting Series of Books for Young People, written by some of
our most Popular Authors, and all having a tendency towards the
formation of correct principles and habits in the minds of the Young.
They blend amusement with instruction in the most delightful manner. We
cordially recommend them as by far the best books of their class."
[Illustration: Back Cover] |
books-0000.json.gz:1483 | "THROUGH THE WALL\n\nBY\n\nCLEVELAND MOFFETT\n\nAUTHOR OF\n\nTHE BATTLE, ETC.\n\nWith Illustrations (...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:1805 | "[Illustration]\n\n\nSCIENTIFIC AMERICAN SUPPLEMENT NO. 586\n\n\nNEW YORK, MARCH 26, 1887\n\nScienti(...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:1827 | "Transcribed from the 1897 John Lane edition by David Price, email\nccx074@coventry.ac.uk\n\n\n\nTHE(...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:1888 | "Le Morte D’Arthur\nKing Arthur and of his Noble Knights of the Round Table\n\nby Thomas Malory\n\(...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:2516 | "Hutchinson, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n\nNote: Project Gutenbe(...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:3554 | "CINDERELLA OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER AND OTHER STORIES\n\nBy Anonymous Authors\n\n Cinderell(...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:3647 | "SERMONS ON VARIOUS IMPORTANT SUBJECTS: WRITTEN PARTLY ON SUNDRY OF THE\nMORE DIFFICULT PASSAGES IN (...TRUNCATED) |
books-0000.json.gz:5900 | "[Frontispiece: His knees sagged under him as a forty-five slug struck\nhim an inch above the buckle(...TRUNCATED) |
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