Chapter II: Part 2

“After all, it is so impossible to describe this cave, that the very attempt is presumptuous.--The more it is studied, the greater is the admiration of the beholder. The richness arising from the multiplicity of the parts--the great extent--the twilight gloom--the varying effects of the reflected light--the transparent green of the water--the echo of the surge rising and falling--and the profound solitude of the whole scene, must make a strong impression on any mind at all sensible to beauty, in art or nature. I only wish you could all have seen it, my dear friends.”

_18th._--This has been a most charming day; the mild calm dry feel of the air reminded me of the lovely weather that we are accustomed to at Rio. Here the days are very changeable; but then the nights have not that extreme chilliness that they have in Brazil.

It was resolved, at breakfast, in order to shew me a little of the country, that we should take a long walk--visit a farmer who lives about a mile and a-half from this--and then return by a different way, through a hamlet, inhabited by some of the poorest class.

We were all ready at one o’clock, which was the appointed hour.--My uncle dislikes very much that people should not be ready in time, and really considers it a fault not to be punctual; he says, it shews a selfish disregard of the wishes of others, and besides, that a great deal of time is wasted--melted away by waiting for each other.--I hope I shall learn to be more exact than I used to be, when with my indulgent mother.

We walked through several fields; but they all had a confined appearance, from being so much more fenced than the open country to which I have been accustomed. Some were all life and bustle; the reapers cutting the corn with their sickles, and dexterously laying it in a line, so that the binders who follow them can tie it up into sheaves without delay; several of these are then made to stand endways, in a little tight group, called a shock. In another place, horses and waggons were engaged in drawing home the corn which had been reaped first, and was now dry enough to preserve it, to the farmyard, where it was to be stacked; and they were succeeded by many little girls, who were gleaning the scattered ears. Farmer Moreland was in his farmyard, overseeing the stacking of his corn, and I could not but admire the neatness and regularity with which the sheaves were placed, with the tops pointing towards the centre, all being made quite firm, and the outside of the stack kept perfectly even. My uncle made me also observe that open passages, for the circulation of the air, were left in the stack, to prevent its fermenting or _heating_, which would spoil the grain. What a curious thing it is that decaying vegetables, when thus pressed together, without a free passage of air should produce such a chemical change, as to cause them to take fire!

After we had rested ourselves in Farmer Moreland’s comfortable house, we looked at his garden, where I observed several rows of large sunflowers, with the seed of which he feeds his fowls; and we then left him and Dame Moreland, as we saw they were very busy.

In the nice smooth green fields which we passed through, there are no beautiful flowers, like those which spread a brilliant carpet over our plains; nor is there any of that rank grass, nearly the height of a man, so common in some parts of Brazil. The hay was all made up some weeks ago, so that I cannot see the delicate flowers of the grasses, nor their slender stalks or _culms_. My aunt says, that grass contains a great deal of very nourishing sugary juice; and if the hay is cut and made up early, before that juice is exhausted by maturing the seed, it becomes much more strengthening food than when mowed late.

Nor are there any herds of wild cattle here, like those in parts of our country; and, therefore, the Brazilian custom of catching the cattle by a noose is not in use. I described to Wentworth the dexterity with which the _peons_ fling the noose, or _lasso_, over the head of any animal, even in full gallop. Here the cattle are in small numbers, and submit readily to the restraint of being confined in fields. The person who takes care of them has comparatively little trouble; and though he does not live on beef for every meal, like the peon, yet he is in fact more comfortable. We saw some very poor people in the hamlet by which we returned home, and found them civil in their manners, and contented with their employment. As to their houses, they are very different, indeed, from the peon’s hovel of upright posts, interwoven with branches of trees, and plastered with mud, thatched with nothing but long grass, and a hide stretched on four sticks, by way of a door.

I was surprised to see with what docility a number of cows allowed themselves to be driven home by a little boy to Farmer Moreland’s. My uncle told me, that it is a great relief to them to have their milk taken away; and that were the fields open, they would go home at the regular hours to be milked. I had imagined that cows had but a small portion of sense or instinct; but my uncle told me several instances of their sagacity, and among others, one which he read lately in travels in Norway and Lapland.

The author frequently saw cows feeding close to precipices several hundred feet high, where an English cow would have but little chance of escape; but the Norway cows, turned out amidst the mountains to procure their subsistence, become as nimble as goats, and climb the rocky crags with the greatest ease.

The manner in which instinct has taught them to descend the mountains is curious. Sitting on their haunches, they place their fore-feet close together, and in this way slide down places, which from their steepness would appear quite impassable with safety.

We went into several cottages belonging to the poor labourers. They are either built of brick, or of frame-work filled in with bricks and plaster, with good doors and glass windows; and inside, every thing, though shewing poverty, gave the idea of comfort. The walls papered, or nicely white-washed, the floors scowered and sprinkled with sand; plates, cups, and saucers displayed on shelves; beds with clean patchwork quilts; and in two of the houses, wooden-clocks to call the people up to their business. And to all of them there was a detached shed for the pig, unlike the filthy place left, between the posts, that support the floor of the Brazilian huts. In the last cottage we visited, we found that the hospitable people it belonged to had contrived to make room for a poor traveller and her child. She had come there on Saturday evening, when they gave her lodging for charity. On Sunday, she begged permission to remain, because she did not think it right to travel on that day; and on Monday she grew ill, and has been in bed ever since. These good people seemed so kind and generous to her, though very poor themselves, that my aunt is much interested for them.

How gratifying it is to see the poorest people assisting each other, even when really distressed themselves, but the most delightful thing of all, dear Mamma, is that there are no slaves here; every body is free, and may work or be idle as they like; but if they prefer idleness, they must of course want the comforts possessed by the industrious;--for industry, as you used to say, brings comfort and happiness.

_19th._--This forest of Deane is very extensive, I find, for it is nearly twenty miles long, and ten broad. Here, at the south-east, it is bordered by the Severn, and on the north-west it stretches to the Wye; so that it forms the chief part of the western district of Gloucestershire. It was once the chief support of the English navy; but the timber is much diminished in consequence of the iron works in its neighbourhood, which it supplied a long time with fuel. My uncle says, however, that it has more the appearance of a forest than almost any other in England; and it still contains many noble old oak and beech trees, besides birch, holly, and underwood.

Here and there a few acres, surrounding cottages, have been cleared and cultivated, which make a beautiful variety. These cottages, and some farm-houses which stand upon the forest land, are free from taxes, and belong to no parish.

My aunt says, it is quite remarkable for the quantities of primroses and lilac wood-sorrel that are every where found. There are a few deer in some parts of the forest, but I have not yet seen them.

_20th._--What a difference between this country, and that which I have left! I scarcely know which to call my own: should it not be that where I lived during my happy childhood with my dear Mamma? The kindness and affection of all my friends here will, I am sure, soon make this country dear to me also; but beautiful I can never think it, when I recollect Brazil, and all its various charms, and all the innumerable flowers and trees that are at this moment in brilliant beauty; while here, the principal flowers are all gone by, and symptoms of the decay of autumn already appear.

It was just about this season that you used to take us to the cottage you had on the Lagoa de Bodingo Freitas. What various amusements we had there! The road along the slope of the mountain was so pretty, among myrtles, _begonias_, and _paullinias_; and there we were always sure of finding the diamond-beetle; and then when gradually descending from the hill, we drove along the banks of the sea covered with lofty ferns; and when you used to allow us to stop on the shore and search for sea-stars, urchins, shells, and plants. Oh, those were happy times! Or when we used to go with you to the low grounds near the lake, and lose ourselves in the thickets of _mangrove_ trees, while gathering their curious seeds, and wondering at the long roots they shoot out to the ground, and while you were searching for marsh plants and fern bushes. Indeed, I never, never can forget those days; nor the still solitude of that valley, the beauty of the rock of Gavia, covered with the blue _gloxinia_, and the wild mountain stream that came tumbling down into the lake; nor the poor fishermen who used to look so happy when you gave them a few _reals_.

Though we live here on the borders of a forest, it is quite unlike that forest near which the Senhor Antonio Gomez lives, and where we used sometimes to spend a few weeks so pleasantly. I miss several little things that seemed to me to belong to a forest, and which used to amuse Marianne and me so much--the howling of the monkeys in the wood, that wakened us in the mornings, and the deep noises of the frogs and toads, with the chirp of the grasshoppers and locusts, like a monotonous treble mixed with that croaking bass.

And then when playing about in the wood after the mists of the night had been dispelled by the rising sun, and when every creature seemed to be rejoicing in the return of day, we had such delight in chasing the pretty butterflies. Nothing at all here like those great butterflies that used to flutter from flower to flower, and hover among the bushes under which we sat; or that sometimes collected in separate companies on the sunny banks of the little stream that ran through the valley near the Senhor’s house. None of those great owl-moths sitting quietly on the trees waiting, with their wings spread open, for the approach of evening. Alas! I see none of those beautiful creatures here; nor the long nests of the wasps hanging from the trees; nor the beetles sparkling brightly on the flowers and fresh leaves; nor the beautiful little serpents, equal to flowers in splendour, gliding out of the leaves and the hollows of trees, and creeping up the stem to catch insects.

I have just been describing to Mary those woods which seemed actually alive, when the monkeys came leaping and chattering from tree to tree, and enjoying the sun; as well as all our birds with their bright plumage, whose various notes formed such extraordinary concerts. The _urapong_, which makes the woods resound with a noise like the strokes of a hammer on the anvil. The showy parrots of every colour, and the _manakin_, whose melodious morning song you loved, because it was so like the warbling of the nightingale; and which Mary tells me is called the _organiste_, in St. Domingo, on account of the compass of its song, as it forms a complete octave. And besides all these, the dear little busy _orioles_, that my sister and I have so often watched creeping out of the little hole at one side of their long bag-shaped nests, to visit the orange trees, while their sentinels gave them notice by a loud scream of the approach of strangers.

Mary smiled when I told her, what I am sure Marianne remembers--how we used to like to listen to the _toucan_ rattling with his large hollow beak, as he sat on the extreme branches, and calling, in plaintive notes, for rain; and how sometimes, when he was sitting comfortably and almost hid in the nest which he had scooped in the stem of a tree, we used to pretend to alarm him, that we might see how instantly he prepared to attack the invader with his bill.

But these are all passed away. Dear Mamma, forgive this list of pleasing recollections: describing them to you makes me feel as if I was again enjoying them in your company. There is such a glowing splendour, as I told Mary, in the sunny days of Brazil, when the glittering humming-birds dart about, and with their long bills extract the honey from the flowers, that I cannot avoid perceiving how gloomy every thing appears here; but pray do not think me discontented.

Mary, to whom I had been describing all these past delights, came back to me just as I had written so far; and, seeing the tears in my eyes, she seemed to feel with me, and to think it quite natural that I should every moment perceive the difference between two countries so opposite in climate and in every thing; though she laughed a little at my repeating to you all that you see continually; but you know, Mamma, you desired me to write all I thought, and you may well suppose how constantly my thoughts turn towards the country in which you live.

Mary said she should have been surprised if I had not felt the change. “But indeed, Bertha,” said she, “you must not forget how well balanced are our blessings. If Brazil has a climate, and various beautiful productions which England does not possess, England, on the other hand, has far more substantial comforts; and, by her commerce, she has the means of enjoying those of all other countries. We have not your brilliant flowers and birds, but you will find that we have many which are more useful, and which will interest you, who love natural history. Our birds have no pendent nests, because they are in no danger from such depredators as your monkeys and snakes, and therefore their instinct does not lead them to contrive such means of defence; but you will see, amongst both our birds and insects, many whose habits are equally curious.”

I said that I believed, as you, Mamma, have often told me, that there is no country which does not possess much to attach its inhabitants to it, and to interest an observant mind.

“And it is in the mind,” she replied, “that our real happiness will always be found. It rests on our own disposition and thoughts, much more than on those outward circumstances which appear coloured by our feelings; just as objects appear the colour of the glass through which you look at them. But,” added she, “I came not to moralise, but to beg of you to come out and walk.”

Out we went; and my thoughts soon turned from the scenes I have been lamenting, to the satisfactory feeling of having, in both my countries, such dear and good friends.

_21st._ _Sunday._--In the course of a conversation this morning about the Sabbath day, a lady, who is here on a visit, remarked that it was the idea of some people, that the Sabbath, having been instituted at the time that the Israelites received the Ten Commandments, is not binding on Christians, any more than the other Levitical institutions.

In order to show what a mistaken idea that is, my uncle read to us the extract which I am going to copy here.

“It is a great mistake to consider the Sabbath as a mere festival of the Jewish church, deriving its whole sanctity from the Levitical law. The religious observation of the seventh day is included, in the Decalogue, among our first duties; but the reason assigned for the injunction is general, and has no relation to the particular circumstances of the Israelites, or to the particular relation in which they stood to God as his chosen people. The creation of the world was an event equally interesting to the whole human race; and the acknowledgment of God as our Creator is a duty, in all ages and countries, incumbent on mankind.

“The terms of the ordinance plainly describe it as an institution of an earlier age--‘Wherefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day, and _set it apart_,’ which is the true meaning of hallowed it. These words express a past time. It is not said, Wherefore the Lord now blesses the seventh day, and sets it apart, but, Wherefore he _did_ bless it, and set it apart in times past; and he now requires that you, his chosen people, should be observant of that ancient institution.

“In confirmation of this fact, we find, by the 16th chapter of Exodus, that the Israelites were already acquainted with the Sabbath, and had been accustomed to a strict observance of it, before Moses received the tables of the law at Sinai. For, when the manna was first given for their nourishment in the wilderness, they were commanded to lay by, on the sixth day, a sufficient portion for the succeeding day. ‘To-morrow,’ said Moses, ‘is the rest of the holy Sabbath unto the Lord: on that day ye shall not find it in the field; for the Lord hath given you the Sabbath, therefore he giveth you on the sixth day bread for two days.’ He mentions the Sabbath as a divine command, with which the people were well acquainted; for he alleges the well-known sanctity of the day, to account for the extraordinary supply of manna on the preceding day. But the appointment of the Sabbath, to which his words allude, must have been earlier than the appointment of the law, of which no part had yet been given. For this first gathering of manna was in the second month of the departure of the Israelites from Egypt; and they did not arrive at Sinai, where the law was given, till the third month.

“An institution of this antiquity and importance could derive no part of its sanctity from the authority of the Mosaic law; and the abrogation of that law no more releases the worshippers of God from a due observation of the Sabbath, than it cancels the injunction of filial piety, or the prohibition of theft or murder.

“The worship of the Christian church is properly to be considered as a restoration of the patriarchal church in its primitive simplicity and purity; and of the patriarchal worship, the Sabbath was one of the noblest and simplest rites. As the Sabbath was of earlier institution than the religion of the Jews, so it necessarily survives the extinction of the Jewish law, and makes a part of Christianity.

“It differs from all other ordinances, of similar antiquity, and is a part of the rational religion of man, in every stage and state of his existence, till he shall attain that happy rest of which the Sabbath is a type.

“Let us remember, always, that to mankind in general, and to us Christians in particular, the proper business of that day is the worship of God in public assemblies. Private devotion is the Christian’s _daily_ duty; but the peculiar duty of the Sabbath is public worship. Every man’s conscience must direct him what portion of the remainder of the Sabbath should be allotted to private devotion, useful duties, and sober recreation. And, perhaps, a better general rule cannot be laid down than this--that the same proportion of the Sabbath, on the whole, should be devoted to religious exercises, public and private, as each individual would employ, on any other day, in ordinary business.”

_22d._--I have just been made very happy, dear Mamma. I was sitting in my aunt’s dressing room, labouring through a difficult question in arithmetic, which Mary had given me, when my uncle came in; and, after a little conversation, he said to my aunt and cousins, “I am very much pleased with this good girl. I have not judged of her hastily--I approve of her as a companion for my daughters; and she has my free permission to be with them in this room and every where, as much as she pleases.”

It is a great satisfaction to add, that my cousins looked as much pleased at this as I did; but they could not feel the delight that I felt, when he continued,--“Bertha, my dear, when you write to your mother, I desire that you will say I am highly pleased with her education of her little daughter. Separated from her friends and country by ill health, with little of good society, and labouring under many disadvantages, she has not sunk into indolence or indifference--she has preserved her good sense and energy, and has made you a gentlewoman in mind and manners; and I rejoice to see you so much what the child of my excellent sister ought to be.”

My beloved mother, this little message to you gave me such heartfelt delight, that my eyes very nearly overflowed.

My kind uncle afterwards said, “But, Bertha, do not imagine that I think you have no faults.”

“No, dear uncle,” said I, “that never came into my head; but I am sure you and my aunt will be so good as to assist me in conquering them.”

“Most readily I will,” said he: “indeed I will write myself to your mother, and tell her how much I like her Bertha, who deserves to be the companion of my daughters; my sister knows how particular I am about their intimacies and early friendships.”

Though I know his letter will be a most welcome one to you, I could not resist the pleasure of telling you all this myself, dear Mamma. I shall feel much more bright and cheerful now, than I have felt, since I left you.

_23d._--I can walk much more here than I could in our own hot country, so I am out a great deal every fine day.

Yesterday, we all set out on a ramble through the forest, that I might see some of its wildest parts; and the morning was so fine, that we went much farther than my cousins had been for a long time. There is but little of it that answered to my ideas of a forest; some parts are quite cleared away, and in others, the trees are spoiled by being copsed. I must confess, that some of the oaks are fine trees; but how insignificant the best of them would appear by the side of our noble _bombax_, or of our tall palms, which spread their leaves like immense umbrellas. And besides, the green of the foliage is so dull, when compared to the vivid tints of the trees in Brazil! We found, however, some very nice and smooth grassy paths through the wood, of which I might say--

All around seems verdure meet
For pressure of the fairies’ feet.

As we walked along one of these, we were surprised by the appearance of smoke curling through the trees; and we soon after came to a little cottage, in a very solitary part of the forest. Frederick ran on, “to discover,” he said, “whether it contained a giant, ready to devour us with _fee, fau, fum_, or some hermit who had retired to this sequestered spot, to expiate his crimes in solitude and silence.”

We soon followed, and instead of either giant or hermit, there was a poor man almost blind, employed in making a basket, while his daughter, a pretty looking young woman about twenty, sat within, engaged in needlework; and the house, though one of the poorest that I have seen, looked clean and airy. But as it is built against a sloping bank, it must be damp, I think--and his daughter has rather a delicate appearance, and looks pensive, as if she was not in good health.

I was very much interested in observing the method by which he made his basket. It was not made of willow, which I thought was always used; so we inquired what the material was, and I was surprised to find that it was oak. He splits the wood into long strips when it is quite fresh, or after it has been soaking in water for some time; these strips are about an inch broad, and being only a tenth of an inch thick, they are so pliable, that he weaves them without difficulty. The shape of his basket was circular, with a flat bottom. A sort of skeleton frame is made first, of stronger slips of wood; then the long thin pieces are woven in and out, close together; and the ends are neatly fastened under each other. It seemed a tedious work; he is to have half a crown for the basket he is now making, for a washerwoman; and as it is more than two days’ employment, his gain is but very small.

He lost his sight many years ago in the mines, and though never idle, he cannot easily support himself. I believe his wife is dead. He says he has lived in that place several years; and I understand that the inhabitants of the Forest of Deane have certain privileges in regard to taxes, that make it a very desirable residence to a poor man.

My uncle is to go in a few days to bespeak some of those baskets, and I hope to walk there with him: it will have been very happy for this poor man that we found him; for my uncle and aunt will certainly be of use to him. They assist the industrious very much; and all they do for the poor, is done in such a kind and cheerful manner, that it doubles the favour.

_24th._--This morning brought another letter from Hertford--it has been delayed on its road, for it was written several weeks ago. Here are some extracts from it: perhaps they may entertain you, as he describes his visit to the little island of North Rona.

“It is accessible in one spot only, and that with difficulty. The landing place is on an irregular cliff, and you must watch for the moment to jump out on the first ledge of rock to which the boat is lifted by the waves. It is a perilous operation to remove sheep from this island; the animal being slung by the legs round the neck of a man, and thus carried down the face of a rock, where a false step exposes him to the risk of being either strangled or drowned.

“The violence and height of the waves, which in winter break over the island, are almost incredible. The dykes of the sheep-folds are often thrown down; and stones of enormous bulk are removed from their places, at elevations of 200 feet above the high-water mark. It is inhabited by one family only, who cultivate it, and tend about fifty sheep. Twice in the year that part of the crop which is not consumed on the farm, together with the sheep’s wool, and the feathers obtained from the sea-fowl, which these poor people are bound to procure, are taken away by the boat to Lewis, and thus some little intercourse with the external world is preserved. But they are so little accustomed to the appearance of any one but the proprietor of the island, that when we appeared, the women and children were seen running away to the cliffs to hide themselves, loaded with whatever moveable property they possessed, while the man and his son began to drive away the sheep. A few words of Gaëlic recalled the men, but it was sometime before the females ventured from their retreat, and when they did, the impression they made on us was not very favourable to the progress of civilization in Rona; the mistress of the family would have ill stood a comparison with Iliglaik, whose accomplishments are so well described by Captain Lyon.

“Not even the solid Highland hut can withstand the violence of the wind in this region. The dwelling is, therefore, excavated in the earth, the wall requisite for the support of the roof scarcely rising two feet above the surface, and the whole is surrounded with turf stacks to ward off the gales. The entrance to this subterranean retreat is through a long winding passage, like the gallery of a mine, commencing by an aperture not three feet high, and very difficult to find. Were it not for the smoke, the existence of a house could never be suspected; indeed, we had been talking to its possessor for some time, before we discovered that we were actually standing on the top of his castle. Like a Kamtschatkan hut, it receives no other light than that from the smoke hole; it is floored with ashes, and festooned and ornamented with strings of dried fish. Its inmates, however, appeared to be contented and well fed, and little concerned about what the rest of the world was doing; they seemed to know of no other world than North Rona, and the chief seemed to wish for little that North Rona could not supply. The great object of his wishes was to get his two younger children baptised, for no people are more zealous in the observance of their religious duties than the Highlanders; and even in that dreary solitude, this poor man had not forgotten his.”

I am quite established now as one of the dressing-room party. A nice little table has been allotted to my use, and I shall be very comfortable as well as happy.

In the library, I was frequently interrupted in drawing or reading, by morning visiters--but into this charming retired room no visiters are admitted, and we shall seldom be disturbed. My aunt has given me just such a nice little table as each of my cousins has: the top serves as a desk for reading, or writing, or drawing, and can be raised to any slope, as it is joined by hinges at one side; while on the other side there is a light frame, which supports the book or drawing I am copying; and which, when not wanted, folds in under the top. It has places for pens, ink, and knife, and two drawers, besides many other conveniences. Indeed, I must be happy in this room, where a variety of useful and agreeable things, and much gaiety too, are always to be found.

I wish, Mamma, you could know your nieces. There is a nice mixture of gaiety and steadiness in both. Mary would be almost perfect, if she were not too timid. Caroline is the handsomest; she has such a fresh, bright complexion, and such pretty waving ringlets; yet she never seems to think of herself or her beauty. She is very active and very useful; always punctual, and ever ready to oblige and assist others, to walk out or stay at home with them--to search for a book, or to hunt out a passage in it--to converse or to remain silent. Yet she contrives to have time for all her own employments, and to lay up stores of knowledge, which are always ready when called for. Her temper is so mild, and her feelings are so much under her own controul, that one does not at first see exactly how much she enters into those of other people; but every day, her character has opened more and more to my observation.

Grace is a dear, little, animated creature--very obedient in general, very intelligent, and my uncle’s play-fellow, but never spoiled. What a pity you cannot see all these children of a brother you love so much. My aunt often expresses her anxiety for your return; she says, that if my uncle and she had their dear sister within reach of them, their family happiness would be complete.

I told you before, I believe, that my uncle, and my aunt too, though she does not say much, are not pleased, if we are not punctual--and must I confess it?--yes, I must acknowledge, that several mornings I have been rather late for breakfast; my uncle has been very patient however, and says he will make allowance a little while for the indolent habits I have acquired by living in a warm climate, and with “too indulgent a mother.”

So good night; I have been writing when I ought to have been in bed.

_25th._--There was a good deal of conversation about salt and salt mines to-day. My uncle asked me, if there were many such salt marshes in Brazil as abound in North America, and of which cattle are so fond. I forgot at first, and said very foolishly, that I could not tell--I was in a silly fit, till at last I recollected myself, and told him I had heard that there were some, though they are obliged to import a great deal of salt. What an extraordinary appearance a salt plain must have, where the salt is open and uncovered! When we went up stairs, Mary showed me Mr. Salt’s description of one in Abyssinia.

He says, that some of his party and Mr. Coffin “stopped at the edge of an extensive salt plain to refresh themselves, under the shade of a group of acacias, near some wells of fresh water. At this place they were provided by the natives with a sort of sandal, for walking on the salt, made of the leaves of a dwarf palm.

“The plain lies perfectly flat, and is said to be four days’ journey in length. The first half mile was very slippery, and the feet sank at every step into the mud. After this, the surface became strongly crusted, resembling, in appearance, a rough coat of ice, covered with snow.

“On the _Assa Durwa_ side of the plain, a number of Abyssinians were engaged in cutting out the salt, which they accomplished by means of a small adze. The salt lies in horizontal strata, so that when the edges are once divided, it separates without any great difficulty: that which is immediately under the surface is exceedingly hard, white, and pure; but as the workmen advance deeper, it becomes of a coarser quality, and much softer. In some places it continues tolerably pure to the depth of three feet, below which it becomes mixed with the soil, and consequently unfit for use.

“This salt plain, from which the whole of Abyssinia is supplied, is infested by a cruel race, who make it a practice to lie in wait for the individuals engaged in cutting it. These poor fellows, in the absence of their guards, lie down flat on the surface, when working, that they may escape the observation of their barbarous enemies, and on the approach of a stranger, they run in alarm to the mountains.”

When we had finished reading this extract, Mary said, that since I was so much amused by it, she would find a description of some curious salt cliffs on the banks of the Indus.

“Near Callabaugh, on the banks of the Indus, the road is cut out of the solid salt, at the foot of salt cliffs, which in some places are more than 100 feet high above the river. The salt is hard, clear, and almost pure; and would be like crystal, were it not a little streaked and tinged with red. Several salt springs issue from the rocks, and leave the ground covered with a crust of the most brilliant whiteness. The earth is blood red, and this, with the beautiful spectacle of the salt rocks, and the Indus flowing in a deep and clear stream, through lofty mountains, presented a most singular scene.”

I have copied these for Mamma, for I am sure you have neither of the books.

_26th._--I have been out till very late this lovely evening, which was so calm, and still, and fragrant, that it made me think of some of our own evenings; and the brightness of the stars, and the clear blue sky, increased the resemblance. While walking, I described to Mary and Caroline the country-house of the Condé de San Lourenço, on the slope of the hills which extend from the city towards the south-west; and the fine view, from that spot, of the city and part of the bay. I endeavoured to make them understand the beauty of our evenings, after the sultry day, when the _mimosas_, that have folded up their leaves to sleep, stand motionless beside the dark _manga_, _jaca_, and other trees; or if a little breeze arises, how it makes the stiff, dry leaves of the _acaju_[2] rustle, and the myrtles drop a fragrant shower of blossoms; while the majestic palms slowly wave their crowns over all.

My cousins appeared so much interested, that I endeavoured to complete my picture of a Brazilian evening. I described to them the shrill cries of the cicada, and the monotonous hum of the tree frog. The singular sound of the little animal called the _macue_, which almost resembles a distant human voice calling for help. The plaintive cries too of the sloth; and the various noises of the _capuira_, the goat-sucker, and the bullfrog; along with the incessant chattering of the monkey tribe; while myriads of fire-flies, like moving stars, complete, as you used to say, the beauty of our evenings. I did not forget to mention those palms, whose flowers suddenly burst out in the evening, and join their fragrance to that of the orange groves. Indeed, all these things were so strongly pictured in my mind, that I could almost have thought myself walking amongst them.

Caroline, in her ardent manner, expressed a wish to visit this interesting scene; but quiet Mary repeated a few stanzas of a poem supposed to be written by a European in South America. Two of them are worth sending you.

In the silence and grandeur of midnight I tread,
Where savannahs in boundless magnificence spread;
And, bearing sublimely their snow-wreaths on high,
The far Cordilleras unite with the sky.

The fern-tree waves o’er me--the fire-fly’s red light
With its quick glancing splendour illumines the night;
And I read, in each tint of the skies and the earth,
How distant my steps from the land of my birth.

_27th._--I do not wonder at the attachment you feel, Mamma, to this place: it is, indeed, very pretty. These wooded banks, and green lawns and fields that slope towards the Severn, and form such a lovely view from some of the windows! But there is no view so pretty to my fancy, as that from the little bedchamber which my aunt has been so kind as to allot to me. I have a glimpse of the river and its woody banks; and very near my window there is a group of laburnums, and an old fir-tree, in which there are numbers of little birds, that I amuse myself in watching. I am very fond of sitting in the projecting bow window, also, at the end of the library: I call it the poetical window, for all that you see from it suits the feelings that descriptive poetry excites.

By the way, I must say that I can read THOMSON’S _Seasons_ now, and other descriptive poetry, with much more pleasure than I could before I came to England, because so much of the scenery described was unknown to me, and so many of the rural occupations I had scarcely seen.

I shall now remember, much better than I used to do, some of your favourite descriptions, that I have learned over and over again. My aunt says, that it has been remarked, by a philosopher who has written a most interesting book on the human mind, that in descriptive poetry we always remember best those scenes which we can picture to ourselves. I am sure this is the case; for now, as I begin to understand the allusions, it requires but little effort to recollect those beautiful lines of Thomson on harvest-home.

When I came here, several of the fields were still unreaped: all is now cut, dried, drawn home, and stacked; and the fields only show, by the yellow stubble remaining in the ground, what treasures gilded the earth but a short time since.

All the farmers in this neighbourhood have finished their harvest; and my uncle took me again to Farmer Moreland’s, that I might see the whole of the process. The stacks, I see, are placed on stands, supported by stone pillars, with a projecting cap of flag-stone, so that the corn has a free passage of air underneath, and is out of the reach of rats.

Farmer Moreland is one of the most comfortable farmers in this part of the country; and, being an old, experienced man, and very much respected, he seems to be considered at the head of the yeomanry.

Every year, when his great harvest is well secured in his farmyard, he gives a feast to all his labourers and the neighbouring farmers; and, when he saw that we were so much interested, he very civilly said to my uncle, “If so be the young ladies would like it, and if you have no objection to a little mirth or so, they shall be heartily welcome to see my harvest home, on Saturday, at three o’clock.”

We were all delighted to go, and have had a lovely day for it. We walked through the little beech-grove and the pretty fields to the farmer’s; we found all his labourers and their families assembled, dressed in their Sunday clothes. The farmers’ wives and daughters amused me by the varieties in their dress;--some in fine flourishing caps, with broad ribbons and borders, and flounces in imitation of the Squire’s lady; and others, plain, clean, and tidy.

There was a very plentiful dinner, set on tables under a clump of trees; and the good farmer seemed to feel real delight in making his hard-working labourers eat heartily. Two fiddlers were playing all the time, to enliven them; and the ale and cider were abundantly circulated. When the repast was finished, the more active sports began; and nothing could be prettier than the different groups of dancers, or more laughable than the attempts to jump through a ring, and hop in a sack.

Under the trees, most of the older people sat comfortably, talking; though some, excited by the general joy, took part in the dance, and others presided at a wrestling match. Each of those men who had been more particularly engaged in getting in the harvest, had his hat ornamented with a large bunch of wheat; but the leader, or captain of the sports, was actually crowned with a whole sheaf. He was carried round the tables on the shoulders of his comrades, and the sports began by dancing round him in a general ring; at last he gave the signal, when they suddenly separated, and each fixed on his favourite damsel.

Dame Moreland gave us some nice syllabub; and, highly gratified with the whole scene, we left her and her happy guests, in the midst of their merriment.

My uncle met there an old acquaintance, whom he had not seen or heard of for several years. When he knew him, this gentleman was in the fashionable world, but now he seems completely a farmer. He is much altered: my uncle did not recollect him; but he had so much the look and language of a gentleman, that my uncle’s attention was attracted. His manner, to the inferior society he was with, was mild and good humoured, without any appearance of proud condescension, or of too great familiarity. My uncle spoke of him two or three times on our way home, as if he was surprised at finding him in his present situation.

_28th._ _Sunday._--My uncle was speaking, this morning, of the general character of the Christian religion, as being so directly contrary to fanaticism and imposture. This is particularly marked, he says, by the manner in which it explains the obligations that arise from the different relations of civil society. He remarked, that “the chief object of every religious system, founded on imposture, has been to use its spiritual influence in acquiring political authority, and to consecrate the legislator by investing him with the sanctity of the priest or the prophet. But Christianity, in this respect, in its original simplicity, stands totally free from all suspicion. The kingdom of our Saviour and his apostles was, literally, ‘not of this world;’ and in no instance whatever did they claim or exercise any degree of political power, or encroach, in the least, on the authority of the magistrate. Christianity released none from their duties, public or domestic;--they were still to be discharged by all persons, and not only with equal fidelity, but with more exalted views; no longer ‘as pleasers of men, but as servants of God.’

“It seems almost surprising,” said my aunt, “that enthusiasm, or rather bigotry, should ever have crept in amongst the professors of a religion that is so mild and so moderate in all its doctrines.”

“Every line of the gospel,” said my uncle, “expresses the same calm and merciful spirit, with which our Saviour checked the intemperate zeal of his disciples, who would have called fire from heaven on the Samaritans, for refusing to receive him. And take notice, that his heavenly wisdom not only prohibits every species of persecution, but reprobates all those overbearing feelings which leads to discord of every kind. How strongly do St. Paul’s precepts enforce this forbearing principle! In the language of a heart overflowing with benignity, he says, ‘Why dost thou judge thy brother; for we shall all stand at the judgment-seat of God. We that are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak. Wherefore, receive ye one another as Christ also received us.’”

I am very careful, dear Mamma, to write down as much as I possibly can of our Sunday morning conversations, because I know they will interest you particularly; and it is very pleasant to me to trace in these opinions of my uncle and aunt the very same sentiments which you have so often impressed on your little Bertha.

_Aug. 29._--My uncle went to-day to bespeak some baskets from the blind man whom I mentioned before, and who I found out has a sick old wife, who cannot get out of bed. We all begged of course to accompany him. We found the old man sitting on a little bench at his door, talking earnestly to his daughter. She looked disturbed, and when we spoke to her, I observed that her colour rose and fell rapidly; my uncle asked if she was ill, or if we came at an inconvenient time?

“No, no, sir,” said the old man. “Bessy, my dear, go in and stay awhile with the old wife, perhaps she may want you.”

My uncle again said, “that he feared he interrupted them.”

“No, sir,” said the blind man, “you do not interrupt us--I must work, happen what may; but as you speak so kindly, sir, I will tell you how it is: Bessy Grimley, sir,” said he, “is not my daughter--I have none, sir; but I will say no more of that. It was the will of God to take all my own from me, and I won’t complain--but Bessy is as good a daughter to me as if she had been my own. Some years ago, sir, her father was one of my neighbours; he was Joe Grimley, that you may have heard of, who kept the carrier’s inn, at the other side, near the town; I lived there at that time.--Well, he broke, poor fellow, and had to go off in the night to hide from his creditors--his wife was taken ill that same night, because of the fright, I believe. She was put to bed, and had a fine little girl; but she never did any good afterwards, and before a month was over she was gone. The poor woman asked my wife to take care for a while of her infant, till her husband was no longer under a cloud; and we promised it, sir, and have kept our promise through all times, bad as well as good. While we were well to do, she had her share of all that my own had--and then, when times changed, we never forsook her. And now, sir, you see she is every thing to us. When I lost my sight, poverty came fast upon us--my wife soon after lost her health with grief, I believe, and can now do nothing. Our sons went away to the wars, and died in the field of glory--our two daughters worked too hard, I believe--Alas! sir, one after another declined away and died. About four years ago, while Bessy was still a young creature, for she is only twenty-one now, a young man, a farmer’s son, fancied her, and wished to marry her; but his father could not give him sufficient maintenance, and the poor girl had nothing you know. Young Franklin’s love for her was of the right sort; he got his father’s consent, and he went off to America to make a fortune. He went to the States, sir, and there he found plenty of work, and high wages; and though he was not naturally a thrifty lad, he wisely laid by most of his earnings till he had saved altogether a sufficient sum to buy a farm; and a few months ago, sir, Bessy had a letter from him, long after, I believe, she had begun to think he had forsaken her. He told her how he had prospered, and that he was going to complete the purchase of his land, and that he hoped, if she was still constant, she would go out to him--‘if you will not come to me,’ said he, ‘I shall think that you never loved me, and I will try to think of you no more--if I can help it; but if you will come and be my wife, I will love and cherish you, and besides, you shall live like any lady in England.’

“Well, sir, the dear child would not leave us--my last daughter, my poor Jenny, had been taken a little before, and I knew not who to get to live with us; but I pressed Bessy to go at any rate. ‘No, father,’ said she, ‘I owe every thing to you and to mother--you have nursed me and bred me up, and you have taught me all I know;--never, never will I forsake you, with your infirmity, or leave poor helpless mother to the care of a stranger. No, no, dear father, God would not send his blessing upon me, if I did so. Indeed, I never should be right happy with James, if I forsook you:--and if James Franklin loves me, he will say I have done right.’