Read Ebook: Bertha's Visit to Her Uncle in England; vol. 1 [of 3] by Marcet Mrs Jane Haldimand

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 561 lines and 79583 words, and 12 pages

My uncle said that this expression, "sweet savour," alludes to the custom in the Roman procession, of strewing the streets with flowers, and causing the altars to smoke with incense; while, immediately before the victorious general, a long train of attendants marched, carrying perfumes, which exhaled a sweet and powerful fragrance;--and thus was the knowledge of Christ, like a reviving odour, diffused around, to improve and strengthen all who received it. Indeed, it is still the custom of all eastern nations, he says, to introduce sweet waters and other perfumes, on solemn occasions, which makes the propriety of the allusion still more strong.

I assured my aunt that I did not prefer those plants for beauty, but as useful from their strength, and, therefore, worth introducing into England.

"I am afraid," said she, "their succulent nature might make them liable to be injured by frost." "Besides," said my uncle, "these plants have not yet been well naturalised to our climate, though they do grow in the open ground in some few gardens; and then we have our beautiful whitethorn and our furze, both of which, if kept in order, and well clipped, make a secure fence against all depredators; the holly, too, with its bright and beautiful dark green foliage, makes an admirable hedge."

As we walked along, my uncle shewed me all these and other plants for hedges, saying, "You may observe, Bertha, that one of the numerous marks of a gracious Providence is the variety of means which he puts at our command in the different parts of the world. In every region we find plants suited to the soil and climate, and adapted for the use and advantage of its inhabitants; and we may generally discover some circumstance attending them, which renders those native productions of peculiar value to the people who possess them."

"But, uncle," said I, "can that be the case in such countries as Lapland and Norway, which give one an idea of the utmost misery and want?"

"You have named a part of the world," he replied, "which is an excellent proof of what I have just said. There, you know, the rein-deer, that most useful animal, contributes in every way to the comfort and the sustenance of the inhabitants. They drink the milk--they eat the flesh--they make clothing of the skin--and, besides, with its assistance, they can move from place to place with delightful swiftness, when otherwise they must be confined by the snow, during three-fourths of the year. But what would become of the rein-deer, was there not an abundant supply of the vegetable on which its vast herds are supported--the rein-deer moss. No vegetable grows throughout Lapland in such abundance; for many miles together the surface of the sterile soil is covered with it, like snow: and on the destruction of forests by fire, when no other plant can find nutriment, this moss, or lichen, springs up and flourishes. Here the rein-deer are pastured, and whatever may be the depth of snow during the long winter of that climate, they have the power of penetrating through it, and obtaining the necessary food."

"But still, uncle," said I, "useful as that same moss is, you cannot consider it among the vegetable productions on which man can live. It supports the rein-deer, and the rein-deer sustains man--but man could not live on moss or lichen."

"There is a common saying, my little Bertha," replied he, "that one-half of the world knows not how the other half live. Now, there is a certain lichen called Iceland-moss which is brought to England as a medicine, and which no one would suppose could be used as food; yet it is a fact that, in those northern regions of which we are speaking, immense quantities of it are gathered for home consumption as an article of common food. When the bitter quality has been extracted by steeping in water, the lichen is dried and reduced to a powder, and then made into a cake, with the addition of a little meal; or else boiled and eaten with milk--and it is eaten with thankfulness too, my dear Bertha, by the poor natives, in years of scarcity, who say that a bountiful Providence sends them bread out of the very stones.

My aunt said to me, when we were walking there, "After all, Bertha, I must confess, that the objection I made yesterday against the prickly pear, of its not being adapted to this climate, was not very wise; for had our gardeners been prevented by such fears, we should not now have the variety of foreign plants that we possess, and many of which are not only pretty, but highly useful."

I asked her whether it was true, that many of the vegetables, now common in kitchen-gardens, have been brought from other countries.

"Yes," said she, "several of the most useful species have been brought from Asia into Europe, and in the course of two thousand years have been gradually spread over it--in former times by the Greeks and Romans, then by the Crusaders, and more recently by the direct means of navigation; and these again have passed on to America, to which we have given all our vegetable treasures."

I asked if America, which abounds in delightful plants, has given any thing useful in return to Europe.

I could not help interrupting her to say, I was sure that was what Mrs. Barbauld alluded to in the line,

And China's groves of vegetable gold.

She smiled and went on:--"The American plant, I speak of, is no longer curious, nor high in price, though it is in value. Can you guess what it is, Bertha?--it is a native of Peru, where, however, it does not seem to grow with half the luxuriance that it does in Europe."

"I believe, aunt, you mean the potatoe."

"Yes," said my aunt, "the potatoe. It was first brought to England by a traveller, more as a specimen of the vegetable productions of other countries, than with any view of bestowing an extensive benefit on society. And thus it is, my dear, that all things really useful are diffused over those parts of the globe to which they are at all suited. While man is occupied in gratifying his love of conquest, his curiosity, or his avarice--while he is searching after the hidden treasures of the earth, or trafficking for the sake of gain, Providence employs those worldly passions and pursuits to dispense blessings and comforts to all nations."

"I suppose, aunt," said I, "that when people settle in new countries, all that is useful amongst us is gradually introduced there."

"Yes, my dear," said she, "both the moral acquirements and the natural productions of the parent countries are spread throughout the world by colonies. Emigrants of different nations meet and blend those customs in which some are superior to others; and thus proceeds the slow but sure improvement of the great families of the earth."

I said that it would be amusing to trace the gradual changes of those great families, and the progress of nations from one country to another by the similarity of customs.

"Nothing could be more useful or entertaining than such an inquiry," replied my aunt; "but in consulting the historian on those subjects you must take the traveller to your assistance: they each throw light on the other; and each becomes doubly interesting, when we read with the view of comparing the past and the present, and of tracing the progress or the failure of arts and civilization."

And now, dear Mamma, I smile when I think of your reading this philosophic page in my journal. So, adieu, for this day!

Stars of the earth and diamonds of the night.

But, I must say, our fire-flies of Brazil are much superior to them in brightness. Indeed, all the productions of nature here are less brilliant; the birds, insects, and flowers of Brazil are quite dazzling, compared with the dull things that I see in this country. But I am told that this deficiency in beauty is more than made up by some greater merits. For instance, the singing of the birds here in spring is said to be so sweet and so various, that I feel a little childish impatience for their singing time to return, that I may hear them. I am, however, already acquainted with the robin redbreast. I have repeatedly heard its plaintive autumn song.

Mary put a common glow-worm into a box of transparent paper with some grass and moss, two days ago, and when we went to examine it last night we saw its beautiful light illuminating every object within a small space around it.

When I saw the glow-worm shining on its mossy banks, I amused myself in imagining how many other living creatures were perhaps lighted by its soft beams. The various beetles, which seem at all hours running to and fro; the slugs, which are for ever in one's path; and the numerous family of spiders, who are so industrious, that they must, I suppose, work "by midnight lamps." The moth tribe, also, who seem to love light only at night, can please themselves at this little lamp, without injuring their delicate wings; and I must not forget the little airy beings, of whose histories I am so fond--the fairies--who say so prettily--

And when the moon doth hide her head, The glow-worm lights us home to bed.

Frederick and I were devising various expedients for making the light of the glow-worms and fire-flies useful; when Mary, who heard us, told me that at Cape Comorin there are certain birds that build pendulous nests; and that it is a fact that these nests are lighted, at night, by fire-flies: the bird fastens a bit of clay to the top of the nest, and sticks a fire-fly on the clay, as if to illuminate the dwelling, which consists of two chambers; but the real object is, probably, to deter the bats from approaching, as they kill the young of these birds. This is mentioned in the life of Dr. Buchanan, who says that the blaze of light dazzles the eyes of the bats. A friend of my uncle's has written some lines on the glow-worm, which I will copy here.

TO THE GLOW-WORM.

My aunt has been so kind as to permit me to make an extract from my cousin Hertford's last letter to her. I enclose it with my journal, which my uncle is going to dispatch to-morrow.

"At last I have overcome every obstacle; and have visited Staffa and its curious caves.

"Of the three caves in the south-west side of the island, the westernmost is called the cave of Mackinnon; who seems, from the number of places to which he has given his name, to have been a hero of considerable celebrity. Its height is 50 feet, and length 224 feet; but although grand and sublime in general effect, it has not the beautiful regularity so remarkable in the cave of Fingal; which I will now endeavour to describe.

"The opening into this celebrated cave finishes above, in a sort of Gothic arch, which is 66 feet above the surface of the water. The breadth, at the entrance, is 42 feet; the whole length of the cave, 227; and the height within, from 40 to 50 feet. The sides, like the front, consist of groups of columns; and the ceiling, at least towards the middle, is composed of the sections, or broken ends of columns, which give it a very architectural appearance. The sea never ebbs entirely out, and, therefore, forms the only floor of the cave; but the broken range of columns which produces the exterior causeway, is continued on each side within, and admits of access over the broken summits to the farther end, if the water be not too high.

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet