The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 19, No. by Various
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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.
VOL. 19, NO. 537.] SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1832. [PRICE 2d.
* * * * *
POLYNESIAN ISLANDS.
[Illustration: TUCOPIA.]
[Illustration: PIERCY ISLANDS]
Mr. George Bennett,[1] whose "Journals" and "Researches" denote him to
be a shrewd and ingenious observer, has favoured us with the original
sketches of the above cuts. They represent three of the spots that stud
the Southern Pacific Ocean. The first beams with lovely luxuriance in
its wood-crowned heights; while the second and third rise from the bosom
of the sea in frowning sterility amidst the gay ripple that ever and
anon laves their sides, and plashes in the brilliancy of the sunbeam.
Tucopia, or Barwell's Island, has recently been elsewhere described by
Mr. Bennett.[2] His sketch includes the S.W. side of the island, and
his entertaining description is as follows:
"This small but elevated and wooded island was discovered by the
ship Barwell in 1798; it was afterwards (1810) visited by the French
navigators, who called it by the native name Tucopia. On the S.W. side
of the island is a wooded, picturesque valley, surrounded by lofty
mountains, and containing a small but well-inhabited village. Two
singularly isolated basaltic rocks, of some elevation, partially bare,
but at parts covered by shrubs, rise from about the centre of the
valley. When close in, two canoes came off containing several natives,
who readily came on board; two of them had been in an English whaler,
(which ships occasionally touched at the island for provisions, &c.) and
addressed us in tolerable English. They were well formed, muscular men,
with fine and expressive features, of the Asiatic race, in colour of a
light copper; they wore the hair long, and stained of a light brown
colour; they were tattooed only on the breast, which had been executed
in a neat vandyked form; the ears, as also the septum narium, were
perforated, and in them were worn tortoiseshell rings; around the waist
was worn a narrow piece of native cloth (died either of a dark red or
yellow colour), or a small narrow mat formed from the bark of a tree,
and of fine texture; some of these had neatly-worked dark red borders,
apparently done with the fibres of some dyed bark. They rub their bodies
with scented cocoa-nut oil as well as turmeric. The canoes were neatly
constructed, had outriggers, and much resemble those of Tongatabu; the
sails were triangular, and formed of matting. No weapons were observed
in the possession of any of the natives; they said they had two muskets,
which had been procured in barter from some European ship. We landed on
a sandy beach, and were received by a large concourse of natives. We
were introduced to a grave old gentleman, who was seated on the ground,
recently daubed with turmeric and oil for this ceremony; he was styled
the ariki, or chief, of this portion of the island. On an axe, as well
as other presents, being laid before him, he (as is usual among the
chiefs of the Polynesian Islands on a ceremonial occasion) did not show
any expression of gratification or dislike at the presents but in a
grave manner made a few inquiries about the ship. Near the ariki sat a
female, whose blooming days had passed; she was introduced as his wife;
her head was decorated with a fillet of white feathers; the upper part
of her body was exposed, but she wore a mat round the waist which
descended to the ankles; the chief was apparently a man of middle age.
"The native habitations were low, of a tent form, and thatched with
cocoa-nut leaves; these habitations were not regular, but scattered
among the dense vegetation which surrounded them on all sides. The tacca
pinnatifida, or Polynesian arrow-root plant, called massoa by the
natives, was abundant, as also the fittou, or calophyllum inophyllum,
and a species of fan palm, growing to the height of fifteen and twenty
feet, called tarapurau by the natives; the areka palm was also seen, and
the piper betel was also cultivated among them. They had adopted the
oriental custom of chewing the betel; in using this masticatory they
were not particular about the maturity of the nuts, some eating them
very young as well as when quite ripe; they carried them about enclosed
in the husk, which was taken off when used.[3] At a short distance from
the beech, inland, was a lake of some extent, nearly surrounded by
lofty, densely-wooded hills. Some wild ducks were seen, and a gun being
fired at them, the report raised numbers of the 'plumy tribe,' filling
the air with their screams, alarmed at a noise to which they had been
unaccustomed. Several native graves were observed, which were very neat;
a stone was placed at the head and the grave neatly covered over by
plaited sections of the cocoa-nut frond; no particular enclosures for
the burial of the dead were observed. When rambling about, the 'timid
female' fled at our approach. From a casual glimpse of the _fair_
objects, they merit being classed among the 'beautiful portion of the
creation;' their hair was cut close.
"Cooked yams, cocoa-nuts, &c. were brought us by the natives, and
their manner was very friendly; of provisions, yams, hogs, &c. could
be procured. The natives were anxious to accompany us on the voyage,
and it was with the greatest difficulty that we could get rid of them.
It seems they have occasional intercourse with islands at some distance
from them; two fine polished gourds, containing lime, &c. used with
their betel, were observed among them--one was plain and the other
ornamented with figures, apparently burnt by some instrument. They
stated that these had been procured from the island of Santa Cruz
(Charlotte's Archipelago) by one of the chief's sons. Some of the
natives were observed much darker than others, and there appeared
a mixture of some races. Their numerals were as follows:--
"1 Tashi.
2 Rua.
3 Toru.
4 Fa.
5 Hima.
6 Ono.
7 Fithu.
8 Warru.
9 Hiva.
10 Tanga, foru."
The isolated basaltic rocks in the centre of the valley may give rise to
some curious speculations on the origin of this island. It has long been
decided that basaltic rocks are of igneous origin, in opposition to the
theory of Werner--that they were deposited by the ocean on the summits
of elevated mountains. May not the occurrence of these basalt rocks
therefore illustrate the more immediate volcanic origin of Tucopia?
The second Cut represents the PIERCY ISLANDS, two barren islets situated
a short distance off Cape Bret, (New Zealand,) near the entrance of the
Bay of Islands: one is of very small size, and appears connected to the
other by a ledge of rocks visible at low water. The larger one is quoin
shaped, and has a remarkable perforation, seen in the sketch.
[1] Member of the Royal College of Surgeons in London, &c.
[2] United Service Journal, Jan. 1832.
[3] I did not observe them take the trouble of wrapping up the
ingredients together, as is customary in India; but some would
eat the betel leaf, previously dipping it in some lime (made
from burnt coral) which he held in his hand, and ate the
areka-nut afterwards; they had no tobacco to eat with it, nor
did I hear them inquire for any.
* * * * *
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
(_For the Mirror._)
One of the residences of this historian and poet, was about a mile from
Paddington on the north side of the Edgware Road, near a place called
Kilburn Priory; and the wooden cottage is still standing, although the
land near it has been of late covered with newly-erected villas. It is
occupied by a person in humble life, and is not to be altered or removed
owing to the respect entertained for the memory of this remarkable
literary character. In this cottage, Goldsmith wrote his admirable
treatise on _Animated Nature._ A sketch of this rustic dwelling is
a desideratum, as, in after days, it may be demolished to make way for
modern improvement.
J.C.H.
* * * * *
STANZAS
TO THE SPIRIT OF EVENING.
(_For the Mirror._)
Mild genius of the silent eve!
Thy pathway through the radiant skies,
Is the rich track which sunbeams weave
With all their varied, mingling, dyes,
Ere yet the lingering sun has fled,
Or glory left the mountain's head.
Yet not one ray of sunset's hue
Illumes thy silent, peaceful train;
And scarce a murmur trembles through
The woods, to hail thy gentle reign,
Save where the nightingale, afar,
Sings wildly to thy lonely star.
Yet gentlest eve, attending thee,
Come meek devotion, peace, and rest,
Mild contemplation, memory,
And silence with her sway so blest;
And every mortal wish and thought,
By thee to holiest peace is wrought.
Thine airs that crisp the quiet stream,
Are soft as slumbering infants' breath:
The trembling stars, that o'er thee beam,
Are pure as Faith's own crowning wreath:
And e'en thy silence has for me
A charm more sweet than melody.
Oh gentle spirit, blending all
The beauties parting day bestows,
With deeper hues that slowly fall,
To shadow Nature's soft repose;
So sweet, so mild, thy transient sway,
We mourn it should so soon decay.
But like the loveliest, frailest things
We prize on earth, thou canst not last;
For scarce thine hour its sweetness brings
To soothe, and bless us, e'er 'tis past;
And night, dull cheerless night destroys
Thy tender light, and peaceful joys.
SYLVA.
* * * * *
TRAVELLING NOTES IN SOUTH WALES.
(_To the Editor._)
I observe a communication respecting my little note on the shrimp in one
of your recent Numbers. Whether shrimps or not, I was not aware of my
error, for they closely resembled them, and were not "as different as
possible," as H.W. asserts. Every person too, must have remarked the
agility of the old shrimp when caught. They were besides of various
sizes, many being much larger that what H.W. means as the "sea flea."
Perhaps H.W. will be good enough to describe the size of the latter
when he sends his history of the shrimp.
With regard to the "encroachers," my information must have been
incorrect. I had omitted, accidentally however, in the hurry of writing,
to add "if undisturbed for a certain period," to the passage quoted in
page 20 of your No. 529.
In North Wales, some years ago, there were some serious disturbances
concerning an invasion of the alleged rights of the peasantry, but
I do not now remember the particulars. Few things by the way, have been
attended with more mischievous effects in England than the extensive
system of inclosures which has been pursued within the last thirty
years. No less than 3,000 inclosure acts have been passed during that
period; and nearly 300,000 acres formerly common, inclosed: from which
the poor cottager was once enabled to add greatly to his comfort, and
by the support thus afforded him, to keep a cow, pigs, &c.
I attended a meeting at Exeter Hall, the other day, of the "Labourers'
Friend Society," whose object is to provide the peasantry with small
allotments of land at a low rent. This system, if extensively adopted,
promises to work a wonderful change for the better in the condition of
the working classes. Indeed the system where adopted has already been
attended with astonishing results. When we come to consider that out of
the 77,394,433 acres of land in the British Isles, there are no less
than 15,000,000 acres of uncultivated wastes, which might be profitably
brought under cultivation; it is surprising to us, that instead of
applying funds for emigration, our legislators have so long neglected
this all-important subject. Of the remaining 62,394,433 acres, it
appears that 46,522,970 are cultivated, and 15,871,463 unprofitable
land. The adoption of the allotment system has been justly characterized
as of national importance, inasmuch as it diminishes the burdens of the
poor, is a stimulus to industry, and profitably employs their leisure
hours; besides affording an occupation for their children, who would
otherwise, perhaps, run about in idleness.
In the reign of Elizabeth, no cottager had less than four acres of land
to cultivate; but it has been found that a single rood has produced the
most beneficial effects. We need scarcely add that where adopted, it has
very greatly reduced the poor-rates. The subject is an interesting one,
and, I trust, we shall in a short period hear of the benevolent and
meritorious objects of the Society being extensively adopted. We refer
the reader to some remarks on the subject in connexion with the Welsh
peasantry, &c. in _The Mirror_, No. 505.
In our description of Swansea, in No. 465, we mentioned the facility
with which the harbour could be improved, and the importance of adapting
it for a larger class of shipping than now frequent that port. On a
recent visit to South Wales, we found this improvement about to be
carried into effect, and an act is to be obtained during the present
session of Parliament. A new harbour on an extensive scale, is also
about to be commenced near Cardiff. The increase of population in Wales
has been very considerable since the census of 1821. Wales contains a
superficies of 4,752,000 acres; of which 3,117,000 are cultivated;
530,000 capable of improvement, and 1,105,000 acres are unprofitable
land.
VYVYAN.
* * * * *
THE SKETCH BOOK
* * * * *
SCOTTISH SPORTING.
(_Concluded from page_ 137.)
But here come the graces of the forest, fifty at least in the herd--how
beautifully light and airy; elegance and pride personified; onward they
come in short, stately trot, and tossing and sawing the wind with their
lofty antlers, like Sherwood oak taking a walk; heavens! it is a sight
of sights. Now advance in play, a score of fawns and hinds in front of
the herd, moving in their own light as it were, and skipping and leaping
and scattering the dew from the green sward with their silvery feet,
like fairies dancing on a moonbeam, and dashing its light drops on to
the fairy ring with their feet of ether. O! it was a sight of living
electricity; our very eyes seemed to shoot sparks from man to man, and
even the monkey himself, as we gazed at each other in trembling
suspense.
"Noo, here they coom wi' their een o' fire an' ears o' air," whispered
the Ettric poet.
"Hush," quoth I, "or they'll be off like feathers in a whirlwind, or
shadows of the lights and darks of nothingness lost in a poet's
nightmare."
"A _sumph_ ye mean," answered Jammie.
"Hush, there they are gazing in the water, and falling in love with
their own reflected beauty."
"Mark the brindled tan buck," whispered one keeper to the other. They
fired together, and both struck him plump in his eye of fire; mine
seemed to drop sparks with sympathy: he bounded up ten feet high--he
shrieked, and fell stone dead; Gods, what a shriek it was; I fancy even
now I have that shriek and its hill-echo chained to the tympanum of my
ear, like the shriek of the shipwrecked hanging over the sea--heavens!
it was a pity to slay a king I thought, as I saw him fall in his pride
and strength; but by some irresistible instinct, my own gun, pulled, I
don't know how, and went off, and wounded another in the hip, and he
plunged like mad into the river, to staunch his wounds and defend
himself against the dogs. Ay, there he is keeping them at bay, and
scorning to yield an inch backward; and now the keeper steals in behind
him and lets him down by ham-stringing him: but when he found his
favourite dog back-broken by the buck, why he cursed the deer, and
begged our pardon for swearing; and now he cuts a slashing gash from
shoulder to chop to let out the blood; and there lay they, dead, in
silvan beauty, like two angels which might have been resting on the
pole, and spirit-stricken into ice before they had power to flee away.
But we must away to Sir Reynard's hall, and unsough him; this we can
do with less sorrowful feelings than killing a deer, which indeed,
is like taking the life of a brother or a sister; but as to a fox,
there is an old clow-jewdaism about him, that makes me feel like
passing Petticoat-lane or Monmouth-street, or that sink of iniquity,
Holy-well-street. O, the cunning, side-walking, side-long-glancing,
corner-peeping, hang-dog-looking, stolen-goods-receiving knave;
"Christian dog" can hold no sympathy with thee, so have at thee.
Ah, here is his hold, a perfect Waterloo of bones.
"The banes o' my bonnie Toop, a prayer of vengeance for that; an' Sandy
Scott's twa-yir-auld gimmer, marterdum for that." "An' my braxsied
wether," quoth a forester; "the rack for that, and finally the auld
spay-wife's bantam cock, eyes and tongue cut out and set adrift again,
for that." Now we set to work to clear his hole for "rough Toby"
(a long-backed, short-legged, wire-haired terrier of Dandy Dinmont's
breed) to enter; in he went like red-hot fire, and "ready to nose the
vary deevil himsel sud he meet him," as Jammie Hogg said; and to see
the chattering anxiety of the red-coated monkey, as he sat at the mouth
of the fox-hole, on his shaggy, grizzle-grey shadow of a horse, like a
mounted guardsman in the hole yonder at St. James's; it truly would have
made a "pudding creep" with laughter--"Reek, reek, reeking into th' hole
after Toby, with his we we cunnin, pinkin, glimmerin een, an' catchin
him 'bith stump o' th' tail as he were gooin in an' handing as long as
he could," as James said. O, it was a very caricature of a caricature.
But list, I hear them scuffle, they are coming out. Notice the monkey
shaking his "bit staff;" here they come like a chimney swept in a hurry,
they are out. "What a gernin, glowerin, sneerin, deevilitch leuk can a
tod gie when hee's keepit at bay just afore he slinks off," exclaimed
the poet, as Reynard was stealing away; but yonder they go before the
wind, down the sweeping, outstretched glen, like smoke in a blast.
Ay, there they go, two stag hounds, monkey, and grew, and Toby yelping
behind; what a view we have of them--the grew is too fleet for him, he
turns him and keeps him at bay till the hounds come up; now they are
off again, and now we lose them, vanished like the shadow of a dream.
We followed, and on our way we met a herdsman, with his eyes staring
like two bullets stuck in clay, or rather two currants stuck in a
pudding: he said he had met "the deevil, a' dress'd like a heelanman o'
tod huntin;" of course we laughed from the bottom end of our very
bowels; but that was not the way to undemonize him, no, he pledged
himself that he saw him "wi' his own twa een lowp off the shoather o' a
thing lik a snagged foal, an' gie the tod such a dirl 'ith heed, that he
kilt him deed's a herrin, an' we micht a' witness the same by gannin to
the Shouther o' Birkin Brae." And truly it was as he said, for we found
the mark of the little Highlandman's shillela on the fox's head, while
he himself was sitting a straddle on him, like "the devil looking over
Lincoln Minster," and the dogs lying panting round about.
On our road home to Hogg's we paid a visit to a wild-cat's lair in the
Eagle's Cragg, and of all the incarnate devils, for fighting I ever saw,
they "cow the cuddy," as the Scotch say; perfect fiends on earth. There
was _pa_ and _ma_, or rather _dad_ and _mam_, (about the bigness of
tiger-cats, one was four feet and a half from tip to tail) and seven
kittens well grown; and O, the spit, snarl, tusshush and crissish, and
mow-waaugh they did kick up in their den, whilst in its darkness we
could see the _electricity_ or phosphorescence of their eyes and hair
sparkling like chemical fire-works. But I must tell you the rest
hereafter, for my paper is out!
W.H.
* * * * *
FINE ARTS.
* * * * *
MR. HAYDON'S PICTURES.
Mr. Haydon has nearly completed his _Xenophon_, which he intends to
make the nucleus of an Exhibition during the present town season. The
King has graciously lent Mr. Haydon the _Mock Election_ picture;
(for an Engraving of which see Mirror, vol. xi. p. 193,) for the above
purpose. There will be other pictures, of comic and domestic interest
by the same artist; among which will be _Waiting for the Times_,
(purchased by the Marquess of Stafford;) _The First Child_, very
like papa about the eyes, and mamma about the nose; _Reading the
Scriptures; Falstaff and Pistol; Achilles playing the Lyre;_ and
others, which with a variety of studies, will make up an interesting
Exhibition.
* * * * *
THE NATURALIST.
* * * * *
A DAY IN BRAZIL.
The following is a translation of the leaf from the journal of Dr.
Martins, dated Para, August 16, 1819; and describes an equatorial day,
as observed near the mouths of the Para and the Amazons:--
How happy am I here! How thoroughly do I now understand many things
which before were incomprehensible to me! The glorious features of this
wonderful region, where all the powers of nature are harmoniously
combined, beget new sensations and ideas. I now feel that I better know
what it is to be a historian of nature. Overpowered by the contemplation
of an immense solitude, of a profound and inexpressible stillness,
it is, doubtless, impossible at once to perceive all its divine
characteristics; but the feeling of its vastness and grandeur cannot
fail to arouse in the mind of the beholder the thrilling emotions
of a hitherto inexperienced delight.
It is three o'clock in the morning, I quit my hammock; for the
excitement of my spirits banishes sleep. I open my window, and gaze on
the silent solemnity of night. The stars shine with their accustomed
lustre, and the moon's departing beam is reflected by the clear surface
of the river. How still and mysterious is every thing around me! I take
my dark lantern, and enter the cool verandah, to hold converse with my
trusty friends the trees and shrubs nearest to our dwelling. Most of
them are asleep, with their leaves closely pressed together; others,
however, which repose by day, stand erect, and expand themselves in
the stillness of night. But few flowers are open; only those of the
sweet-scented Paulli_nia_ greet me with a balmy fragrance, and
thine, lofty mango, the dark shade of whose leafy crown shields me from
the dews of night. Moths flit, ghost-like, round the seductive light of
my lantern. The meadows, ever breathing freshness, are now saturated
with dew, and I feel the damp of the night air on my heated limbs.
A Cicada, a fellow-lodger in the house, attracts me by its domestic
chirp back into my bedroom, and is there my social companion, while,
in a happy dreaming state, I await the coming day, kept half awake by
the buzz of the mosquites, the kettle-drum croak of the bull-frog, or
the complaining cry of the goatsucker.
About five o'clock I again look out, and behold the morning twilight.
A beautiful even tone of grey, finely blended with a warmth-giving red,
now overspreads the sky. The zenith only still remains dark. The trees,
the forms of which become gradually distinct, are gently agitated by
the land wind, which blows from the east. The red morning light and
its reflexes play over the dome-topped caryocars, bertholetias, and
symphonias. The branches and foliage are in motion, and all the lately
slumbering dreamers are now awake, and bathe in the refreshing air
of the morning. Beetles fly, gnats buzz, and the varied voice of the
feathered race resounds from every bush; the apes scream as they clamber
into the thickets; the night moths, surprised by the approach of light,
swarm back in giddy confusion to the dark recesses of the forest; there
is life and motion in every path; the rats and all the gnawing tribe are
hastily retiring to their holes, and the cunning marten, disappointed of
his prey, steals from the farm-yard, leaving untouched the poultry, to
whom the watchful cock has just proclaimed the return of day.
The growing light gradually completes the dawn, and at length the
effulgent day breaks forth. It is nature's jubilee. The earth awaits her
bridegroom, and, behold, he comes! Rays of red light illumine the sky,
and now the sun rises. In another moment he is above the horizon, and,
emerging from a sea of fire, he casts his glowing rays upon the earth.
The magical twilight is gone; bright gleams flit from point to point,
accompanied by deeper and deeper shadows. Suddenly the enraptured
observer beholds around him the joyous earth, arrayed in fresh dewy
splendour, the fairest of brides. The vault of heaven is cloudless;
on the earth all is instinct with life, and every animal and plant is
in the full enjoyment of existence. At seven o'clock the dew begins to
disappear, the land breeze falls off, and the increasing heat soon makes
itself sensibly felt. The sun ascends rapidly and vertically the
transparent blue sky, from which every vapour seems to disappear; but
presently, low in the western horizon, small, flaky, white clouds are
formed. These point towards the sun, and gradually extend far into the
firmament. By nine o'clock the meadow is quite dry, the forest appears
in all the splendour of its glowing foliage. Some buds are expanding;
others, which had effloresced more rapidly, have already disappeared.
Another hour, and the clouds are higher: they form broad, dense masses,
and, passing under the sun, whose fervid and brilliant rays now pervade
the whole landscape, occasionally darken and cool the atmosphere.
The plants shrink beneath the scorching rays, and resign themselves
to the powerful influence of the ruler of the day. The merry buzz of the
gold-winged beetle and humming-bird becomes more audible. The variegated
butterflies and dragon-flies on the bank of the river, produce, by
their gyratory movements, lively and fantastic plays of colour. The
ground is covered with swarms of ants, dragging along leaves for
their architecture. Even the most sluggish animals are roused by the
stimulating power of the sun. The alligator leaves his muddy bed, and
encamps upon the hot sand; the turtle and lizard are enticed from their
damp and shady retreats; and serpents of every colour crawl along the
warm and sunny footpaths.