f 
 
^ 
 
BURFORD COTTAGE. 
 
 ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 
 
CHISWICK : 
 
 PRINTED BY C. WHTTTINGHAM. 
 
isiar]^jr©H^jO) €(n)ic"iCA(S]R^ 
 
 J.Qndan.rulilished"by Tho! Tegg k Sons. Cheapside. JanX 1 J835. 
 
BURFORD COTTAGE, 
 
 ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF KEEPER'S TRAVELS. 
 
 
 " A bird of the air sbdll tell llie matter.' 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG AND SON, CHEAPSIDE; 
 
 TEGG, AVISE, AND TEGG, DUBLIN ; GRIFFIN AND CO. GLASGOW; 
 
 AND J. AND S. A. TEGG, SYDNEY . ALSTKAL!A. 
 
 1835. 
 
TO 
 
 JOHN FORSTER, ESQ. ^^^ 
 
 OF EGHAM, IN THE COUNTY OF SURREY; 
 
 ^i)is Folume, 
 
 INTENDED FOR THE COMMUNICATION OF KNOWLEDGE, 
 
 AND FOR THE CULTIVATION OF VIRTUE, 
 
 AMONG ITS YOUTHFUL READERS, 
 
 IS WARMLY AND RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 457 
 
BCRFORD COTTAGE, 
 
 AND ITS 
 
 ROBIN-RED-BREAST, 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Not content 
 With every food of life to nourish man, 
 Thoa mak'st all Nature beautv to his eye, 
 Or music to his ear! smart. 
 
 '* Ah 1 ^laria, there is the short, sweet note of the Robin- 
 red-breast already ':" cried Mr. Paulett to his wife, as he 
 turned from one of the open French windows toward 
 the breakfast-table, at Burford Cottage, one fine morn- 
 ing, last autumn : we are now only at the beginning 
 of October, and yet the Robin appears to be growing 
 sociable, and as if willino- to establish himself amonu- 
 us, against the season of winter frosts. I have heard 
 him once or twice before, at this time and in the 
 evening, out of that fir, beyond the maple." 
 
 " O, papa, where is the Robin ?" cried little Emily, 
 now in her eighth year ; " where is the Robin ? Let me 
 see him! Shall I carry him some crumbs?" 
 
12 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 '' Don't be too much in a hurry, Emily," said 
 Mrs. Paulett : " wait till the weather grows colder, 
 and all the leaves have fallen ; and then he will leave 
 his hiding-places, and come to you himself, and hop 
 upon the window-sill, and even into the room, if you 
 do but save him from the cat ; but, if you disturb him 
 now, you will frighten him away, and he will go to 
 some other garden, where there are no impatient chil- 
 dren to tease him ; and we shall never hear his pretty 
 note, nor see his smooth olive back, and large dark 
 eye, and orange breast, in the bright frosty mornings, 
 or under the dull gray skies of the long winter that is 
 coming!" 
 
 " What a very foolish girl Emily is, mamma," burst 
 forth her presumptuous brother, Richard, who had 
 lived two years longer than herself: " she is always so 
 impatient ; she never stays for anything," he concluded, 
 echoing and enlarging upon the word which had been 
 made use of by his mother. 
 
 " And are you much wiser or more patient than 
 your sister, Mr. Grave-airs?" said Mrs. Paulett, check- 
 ing, though with a laugh, the tone of superiority 
 assumed by the young heir-apparent. " You were 
 upon the start, and with an exclamation of an ' O !' at 
 the very moment when your sister thought it best to 
 ask her papa where the bird was to be found, before 
 she sprang away witli her crumbs !" 
 
 " Yes, mamma," added Emily, with much satisfac- 
 tion ; " Richard is always ready to talk of my faults, 
 but never of his own ! Is he not, now, mamma?" 
 
 " Ah ! you are both alike," finished Mrs. Paulett ; 
 " you are as ready to find fault with Richard as he 
 with you ; and, perhaps, it is all very well, so long as 
 you are not ill-natured to each other. Both of you are 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 3 
 
 quick-sighted to see the little slips of each ; and, per- 
 haps, by your so doing, both of you are improved, and 
 your papa and I are saved a great deal of trouble !" 
 
 The Robin warbled his sweet note again ; but, with 
 the exception of one short-lived moment, the children 
 were soon occupied too seriously with their breakfasts, 
 to do more than look with fitful curiosity at the red 
 and yellow leaves of the trees and shrubs that rose 
 above the flowers, and were grouped around the 
 grass ; in the vain hope of distinguishing the little 
 bird that wore the same colours as the leaves, and 
 moved as gently and as silently as the lightest of those 
 which, slightly burdened with the dew, were every 
 moment floating, one after the other, from the spray 
 above, to the littered herbage underneath. 
 
 " I am glad, however," said Mrs. Paulett, to her 
 husband, " that the Robin has found us out again, or 
 come back to his old quarters ; for I dare to say that 
 it is the same which we had with us last winter ; and 
 now, that all the gayer song-birds of the spring and 
 summer are quite gone, we shall begin to know again 
 the value of the little songs, at evening, and in the 
 morning, of the Wren and Red-breast !" 
 
 " I am thinking, my love," returned Mr. Paulett, 
 '' of the real value of song-birds, in the list of human 
 enjoyments; and therefore cj^uite agree with you. The 
 colours and odours of flowers, and of trees and herbs, 
 and the songs of birds, are certainly substantial points 
 for administering to human use and pleasure." 
 
 " We are to judge so, perhaps," replied Mrs. Paulett, 
 " if it were only from the lively interest which is and 
 ever has been taken in them by all mankind. Witness 
 poets, historians, philosophers, statesmen, and their fol- 
 lowers and admirers, men and women, young and old !" 
 
 B 2 
 
4 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Yes ; and from the dejection and complaints," 
 resumed her husband, " of those who, unlike our- 
 selves, have ever been placed in situations to make 
 them know what it really is to be without them ! I 
 observe, that in the latest book which we have seen 
 concerning New South Wales and Van Diemen's 
 Land, the author seriously advises emigrants to carry 
 with them English singing-birds ; in order, says he, to 
 promote the breaking of the * horrid silence which so 
 often reigns in the vast forests of those countries !' '^ 
 
 " No singing-birds !" interrupted Emily ; " why, I 
 never heard of such countries in all my life ! I would 
 not live in them, if they were the prettiest countries in 
 the world ; — that is, unless I had a nice aviary, like 
 Miss Fosbrooke's, or a beautiful greenhouse, with 
 little birds flying in it, and gold and silver fish swim- 
 ming in large globes, like that beautiful new building 
 at Lady Eildington's." 
 
 ^' Well done, little chatterbox," pursued her papa; 
 " and now I will tell you, that you may the better 
 understand what you have to be thankful for, in the 
 charming prospect from our windows, and in the deli- 
 cious walks and drives about our village ; in the paths 
 over the green fields ; in the clear brooks and little 
 bridges; in the slopes, and hills, and valleys; in the 
 cooing of the wood-pigeons ; in the songs of the lin- 
 nets, blackbirds, and thrushes; in the chatter of the 
 furze-chat, and even in the cackle of the poultry, and 
 the crow of the gallant cock; — I will tell you that 
 much of those countries is described as being no less 
 dismal to the eye, than empty to the ear ; but especially 
 dull and melancholy, because of the absence of song- 
 birds, and of their consequent excessive silence : for, 
 though we sometimes complain of you and your 
 
ITS ROBTN-RED-BREAST. O 
 
 brother for making- more than your share of noise; 
 yet it is true that silence, carried to excess, is one of 
 the things which, if, in civilized life, and in ordinary 
 situations, it could ever fall to our lot to feel it, most 
 distressful to human nature, and probably, therefore, 
 as injurious. This author, whom T am reading, though 
 he talks of occasional magnificence of prospect, and 
 even of Alpine scenery, in New South Wales ; yet 
 paints its interior, and even its coasts, and the coasts 
 of all New Holland, as, in the most remarkable 
 degree, flat, naked, solitary, and dreary. Ascending- 
 a hill, it must be confessed, of respectable height, he 
 says, that from its summit, he beholds, even to the 
 horizon, or like the prospect of an ocean, immense 
 plains, of the greenest verdure, it is true, but without 
 a single tree ! One of the plains, not wholly seen 
 from the hill, was known to be at least^twenty-five 
 miles in leng-th, and from five to ten in breadth ; and 
 in the whole ^^Y, there must have been at least a hun- 
 dred thousand acres of land : ' It would be in vain,^ 
 he continues, ' for me to attempt to convey an idea of 
 the effect of a view over these vast solitudes. The 
 extreme silence wdiich prevails here, almost exceeds 
 what the imagination can conceive. It is true that 
 some emooes, or perhaps a solitary bustard (?), can some- 
 times be disting-uished ; but they are generally afar 
 off; and the traveller may frequently ride many miles 
 without seeing a living creature.' Speaking of the 
 shores of New Holland generally (and it is known 
 that New South Wales is a part of New Holland, or, 
 as it is sometimes called, Australia), he says, that they 
 have a most dreary and inhospitable appearance. The 
 circumference of New Holland is about six thousand 
 miles; and he offers descriptions, from part to part, 
 in order, says he, to give the reader some slight idea. 
 
6 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 how desolate and melancholy must be the general 
 aspect of the shores of this immense island. A fea- 
 ture, too, to be added to the unfortunate landscape, is 
 this, that in the interior there prevails, at the same time, 
 a wide-spread want of water; and often, where rivulets 
 and ponds (called, by courtesy, rivers and lakes) have 
 recently existed, so as even to have received names from 
 the earlier settlers, the names only, and not the waters, 
 at present, from some undiscovered cause, continue*!' " 
 " Oh, what a country," cried Mrs. Paulett, " for any 
 body to go to ! I often think so, upon account of the 
 poor Mowbrays, and their fine children!" 
 
 *'This is no description of the ivhole of the coun- 
 try," replied her husband ; " and in parts, as has 
 appeared, even from our author, there is no want of 
 beauty, nor of forests, rivers, hills, and mountains. In 
 Van Diem^n's Land, especially, there is no sort of 
 deficiency of beauties for the eye. But, besides that 
 I wish these young people to understand how much 
 they have to be grateful for, in having been born in 
 any cultivated and civilized country, and especially in 
 their own ; I dwell upon the particular which is cha- 
 racteristic and melancholy in all these countries, whe- 
 ther upon their hills or in their dales, in their woods 
 or in their open grounds; namely, their silence; and 
 this, especially, from their deficiency in singing-birds." 
 '' What ! no larks nor nightingales," cried Richard ; 
 " nor goldfinches, nor linnets, nor Robin-red-breasts?" 
 " These islands of the Southern Hemisphere," an- 
 swered his papa, " have nothing — not the least exam- 
 ple — either animal or vegetable, exactly similar to 
 what we witness in the Northern ; or, at least, without 
 such exceptions as are easily accounted for, and which 
 
 * See Breton's Excursions in New South Wales, &c. &c. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 7 
 
 prove the rule* ; but, as to singing or song-birds, not 
 only they have none of ours, but also, they are without 
 any of their own 1" 
 
 '' From all that we have read,'* subjoined ]Mr. Pau- 
 lett, " it seems a strange country, this Xew Holland I 
 Placed at the other end of the globe, and scarcely risen 
 above the ocean, its rivers run inland, instead of into 
 the sea ; its lakes are no more than swamps during the 
 rainy season, and sands during the dry ; its rivers are 
 either failing at their sources, or else drowning all 
 their banks ; its natives are described as of the lowest 
 stao:e of humanity : its birds and beasts are few, and, 
 for the most part, of the most extraordinary forms; 
 some of its fishes poison those who eat them ; it has 
 insects that are as abundant as they are detestable, 
 and as detestable as they are abundant ; and, as to 
 its fruits and flowers, what can we say in their favour, 
 whether for number, or for beauty, or for sweetness?" 
 Other new countries beautify our own with treasures 
 without number; but for what new beauties, or new 
 sweetnesses, are we indebted to New Holland^ Look 
 at the heaths, and aloes, and geraniums, and so many 
 other ornaments of our greenhouses and conserva- 
 tories, from the Cape of Good Hope; at the dahlias, 
 the sumachs, the Virginia creepers, that make our 
 gardens o;oro:eous, from America; look at the roses 
 from India and Persia, and at the thirty-six varieties 
 of jasmine which we derive from the same coun- 
 tries ; — but what have we to boast of from New Hol- 
 land !"' 
 
 " Pardon me, my dearest," answered her husband ; 
 
 * This is a question upon which the author of these pages has long 
 since oftered notices to the scientific world ;. and upon which circum- 
 stances alone have hitherto delayed the apjiearance of his fuller 
 observations. 
 
8 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " but you omit all the exceptions that may be made in 
 favour of poor New Holland, which, after all, has a 
 certain number of valuable gifts in each of these kinds, 
 even as already discovered ; and you are to remember, 
 too, that as to much the larger part of its surface, it is 
 still wholly unexplored. If now, too, we know enough 
 of it to risk the assertion, that all its beauties, in plants 
 and animals, are comparatively few, still they are not 
 nothing. It must be confessed to you, in the mean- 
 time, that the quadrupeds of New Holland make but 
 a scanty and meagre show ; and that instead of the 
 beautiful, the noble, the graceful, and even the pictu- 
 resque proportions, magnitudes, ornaments, and co- 
 lours, of our elks, our deer, and antelopes, our oxen, 
 horses, and sheep, our camels and our asses (for I will 
 not leave the shaggy donkey out of the catalogue) ; to 
 say nothing of the elephant, the zebra, the rhinoceros 
 and hippopotamus, which adorn and dignify our North- 
 ern Hemisphere; we find no quadruped, in New 
 Holland, larger or more beautiful than the limping 
 cangaroo, its wombats, peramelas, flying phalangistas, 
 echnidas, and ornithorynchuses. Even its beasts of 
 prey are small, and, as it were, contemptible. It has 
 neither bear, nor wolf, nor fox; and much less the 
 kingly lion, the glorious tiger, the beautiful leopard, 
 or alike beautiful panther ; though some of our emi- 
 grants have carried out fox-hounds, to where there is 
 no chase but for cangaroo-dogs; and though the charm- 
 ing poet of the " Pleasures of Hope," in a later pro- 
 duction of his muse, has pictured " panthers" as now 
 lapping at the river sides of New Holland ; an event 
 which, even in the future, can never happen till some 
 panther, carried in our ships to the coast of New Hol- 
 land, shall afterward slip the cage of its showman, or 
 the den of some Zoological Garden, to be established 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 9 
 
 (and perhaps shortly !) beneath the stars of the Antarc- 
 tic Pole. — " 
 
 Mr. Paulelt was utterino^ the last syllables of his 
 instructive speech, when, enlivened, I suppose, by the 
 tones of his voice, and the store of new ideas which 
 I was collecting from all I heard, /, the Robin-red- 
 breast, who am here reporting it to the reader; — /, 
 once again, sung out the sugary cadence that had 
 opened the conversation, but that now, to my real 
 regret, brought it to a sudden close! To find that 
 there was a part of the world in which, at least as 
 Mr. Paulett pretended, there are no such things as 
 Robin-red-breasts, was an occurrence so startling to 
 my fancy, that I involuntarily hopped a little from 
 twig to twig, and ejaculated a few hasty notes, either 
 incredulous of the unexpected history ; or shocked, 
 liked Mrs. Paulett, at the notion of so strange a 
 country ; or inu ardly rejoicing that I was far away 
 from it ! But the effect of my vivacity was very dif- 
 ferent from any thing that I either designed or wished. 
 Richard, with all his philosophy, did not refrain from 
 rising off his chair, and calling out, a little loudly, 
 " There is Robin again I there is Robin \" and Emily, 
 though anxious, upon this occasion, to appear more 
 discreet than her brother, as well as more attentive to 
 their mamma's advice, still permitted herself to be 
 drawn, a step or two, toward the nearest window. 
 yir. and Mrs. Paulett recollected that breakfast had 
 been for some time finished; Mr. Paulett had busi- 
 ness; jMrs. Paulett had orders for the servants; and 
 the children had lessons that could not wait. Every 
 one arose, and I, too, took to my win^^s. The family 
 left the breakfast-parlour; and I, for my part, flew 
 into the adjacent grove. 
 
 b3 
 
10 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 What cannot arts and indastry perform? 
 
 BEATTIE. 
 
 The following day, at the same hour, was as bright as 
 that which had preceded it; and I was again sunning 
 myself about the maple-tree, and indulging in the fresh- 
 ness of the morning air, when the family at Burton 
 Cottage assembled at their breakfast. My little song 
 was again heard ; and such are the links by which 
 ideas are connected with each other, and so easily do 
 outward things enkindle inward, that there seemed 
 to want but this, in order that the whole party should 
 resume its yesterday's reflections upon singing-birds ; 
 upon Robin-red-breasts; and upon New Holland, which 
 is without the whole ! 
 
 " You allowed, however, my dear,'' said Mrs. Pau- 
 lett, '* that New Holland is really a singular corner 
 of the globe, with many blemishes, and many imper- 
 fections ; at least comparatively so, and as taking all 
 the remainder of the earth into the account?" 
 
 " Oh ! doubtless," answered her husband, " the 
 whole of that is true ; but let us sum up, on the other 
 side, a part of those things which may either soften 
 our sentence upon it for the present, or encourage our 
 hopes for it, as to the future. New Holland has really 
 every aspect of being comparatively a new country ; 
 a country newly raised (in the comparison with more 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 1 1 
 
 Northern continents and islands) above the level of the 
 sea. That interior hollowness, or basin-like formation 
 of the surface, which is the cause of the running 
 of so many of its rivers inland, instead of to the 
 sea, is not the least of the circumstances which may 
 justify such an idea; for it is common, both with 
 the sea, and with great rivers, to raise, by means of 
 their deposits, either in storms or inundations, their 
 immediate shores and banks above the level of the 
 remoter soil which they thus engirdle. It is thus, so 
 often, with the downs, or dunes, or hills upon the sea- 
 coasts; and it is thus that the immediate banks of the 
 Missisippi (for example) are natural dykes, or higher 
 than the lands behind them. But, in such a structure 
 of its surface. New Holland is not peculiar ; or, rather, 
 the peculiarity consists only in the lateness of the day 
 at which we see it. In the heart of Northern Asia, 
 and lying between Northern Mongolia and Northern 
 China, quite to the Chinese Wall, is a vast and hollow 
 tract of country, in which every thing demonstrates 
 its being the dry bed of an ancient sea. The Mon- 
 gols, upon the authority of tradition, assert that 
 it anciently contained a sea, and add, that it will re- 
 ceive a sea again. The Chinese call it Han Hae, or 
 the Dried-up Sea; and assert, that the people of 
 Corea, if so disposed, by availing themselves of this 
 inland basin, and opening a passage to it, through 
 their mountains, from the great ocean upon its coast, 
 might inundate, not only all Mongolia, but all Russia 
 at the same time 1 This vast hollow, the Shan INIo of the 
 Chinese, and True Gobi, Cobi, Desert, or Desert of Gobi, 
 or Cobi (written Kobi on our maps), is in the midst of 
 the more extended Gobi, from which it is separated 
 by the Boossoo Shilolm, or Girdle of Rocks: Gobi, 
 
12 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 in the Mongolian tongue, signifying the same with 
 Sahara, in the north of Africa; that is, a country 
 without wood and water ; while by the opposite term, 
 Changgae, is to be understood a fertile, hilly; wooded, 
 and well-watered country. In the True Gobi, or the Mo 
 of the Chinese, which, however, is small, as compared 
 with the whole country, the sands and clays are abun- 
 dant in salt ; there are little salt lakes still left ; and 
 the plants are a peculiar species of the genera that 
 are found upon the sea-coasts*. I compare," added 
 Mr. Paulett, " with this changing state of a sunken 
 and internal portion of the North of Asia, the inter- 
 nal basin of New Holland." 
 
 " But what say you to the natives?" pursued 
 Mrs. Paulett. 
 
 " I believe, in the first place," answered her hus- 
 band, " that they are decried to excess by the Eu- 
 ropeans; and, in the second place, I account for their 
 deficiencies, bodily and intellectual, such as they are, 
 from the acknowledged deficiencies of their country, 
 and from their depressed and unassisted situation. 
 I believe that they belong to the great family of man, 
 and not to that of the oran-otang, to which so many 
 would consign them. There are persons so ignorant 
 as to assert that they are without any form, or even 
 sentiment, of religion ; as if man any where, or at any 
 time, has subsisted in such a state; and as if, in 
 point of fact, these very persons did not, in the same 
 breath, inform us of circumstances which make mani- 
 fest their possession of a religion ! In a cave, in a 
 certain direction, has been found a carvins: of a fissure 
 
 * Recent Journey of Dr. Bange, from St. Petersburg to the 
 Frontiers of China. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 13 
 
 of the sun, and of certain other symbols ; and I doubt 
 not these people belong to the ancient and simple 
 congregation of sun-worshippers, or fire-worshippers, 
 whom the sage of Persia, not founded, but instructed ! 
 They are accused, by our colonists and convicts, of being 
 thieves and murderers ; but the point is pretty well 
 settled, that even allowing for the natural resentment 
 and resistance of the people of an invaded country, 
 Europeans, and not the aborigines, are the ordinary 
 aggressors, and that what follows is less robbery and 
 murder, than war and vengeance, and even a struggle 
 for life and food. But what Europeans ask for, and 
 more commonly obtain, is the full power and all privi- 
 lege to plunder, and commit enormities, without suf- 
 fering by any reprisal ; and from this habitual course 
 of things, their surprise is even as real as their outcries 
 are astounding, if, by any chance, they receive blow 
 for blow ! Even when things have taken some shape 
 of order between the strangers and the natives, the 
 outrages of the former, and the patient suffering of 
 the latter, become the established order also. I re- 
 member, that when I was in the neighbourhood of 
 the Tuscarora Village, at Lewistown, upon the river 
 Niagara, in North America, and when in other similar 
 neighbourhoods; I never failed to hear, upon white 
 authority itself, that the Indians were discouraged 
 from all attempts at cultivating their little plots of 
 ground, by the constant plunder of the white people ; 
 so that for the former to plant corn, or beans, or me- 
 lons, or cucumbers, with any hope of gathering either, 
 would be absurd I That the Indians would plunder 
 the grounds or gardens of the white people, nobody 
 so much as dreamed of; but that the white people 
 would plunder those of the Indians, was held as cer- 
 
14 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 tain as it was cruel ! Except that, in general circum- 
 stances, savages are universally found more honest 
 and less corrupt than the men of civilization, there is 
 no reason why we should expect the natives of New 
 Holland to be more free from crime than their Eu- 
 ropean invaders ; but that, while the latter are hourly 
 diminishing the supplies of food, by the destruction of 
 the cangaroos, and of ' such small deer,' which is the 
 whole that their country affords, the former should fall 
 under the temptation to molest the flocks and herds of 
 the settlers can hardly be thought, even in savages, 
 very extraordinary !" 
 
 " You are so stout a champion," said Mrs. Paulett, 
 " for the natives of New Holland, who, be it remem- 
 bered also, are at least in a very inferior condition of 
 humanity to those of the adjacent islands, particularly 
 New Zealand ; that I long to hear what you will say 
 for its plants, and still more, for its animals ?" 
 
 " The plants of Botany Bay, my love," cried Mr. 
 Paulett, " are certainly not scanty, however limited 
 may be the number of those that are singularly useful 
 or ornamental; but here, as well as in what belongs 
 to the naked surface of the country, is space for that 
 progress of improvement upon which I reckon so 
 largely for the future. I have supposed that New 
 Holland is comparatively a new country from the 
 hand of nature, and it is certainly new under the 
 hand of man ; and this latter point brings us round 
 again to our singing-birds, and our Robin-red-breasts; 
 and to some other considerations which I am willing, 
 in this discussion, to press upon the memory of our 
 children, as lessons of a fruitful wisdom, to accom- 
 pany the formal lessons of their geography. We 
 seldom think of, and more seldom, perhaps, do we 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 15 
 
 justly appreciate, all the changes, direct and indirect, 
 upon the surface of the earth, as well as the more obvious 
 accommodations, which are wrought and fashioned by 
 the labour of man ; that is, what advantages, in these 
 respects, belong to one country above another; and 
 what just division we ought to make in our thoughts, 
 between the works of nature, and the works of art, as 
 we find them upon the surface of the globe. 
 
 " My dear children," continued Mr. Paulett (but 
 addressing himself, as he now spoke, more immedi- 
 ately to Emily and Richard) ; " that acquaintance with 
 the sites, the circumstances, and the natural produc- 
 tions of foreign and distant countries, which, with so 
 many other matters of fact, it is, in an especial manner, 
 the education of the day to attempt the fixing of in 
 youthful memories like yours, and to which I am now 
 contributing my share ; all this is estimable, no doubt, 
 as connected with what is called liberal knowledge, and 
 to prevent (as is the more common motive) young 
 persons from ' showing,' as it is said, 'their ignorance;* 
 that is, because there are certain, and, in short, innn^ 
 merahle things, of which it is expected that persons, 
 and even children, of a certain condition and oppor- 
 tunity in life (by ancient allusion called the liberal 
 or free condition, and by familiar and not uncon- 
 nected usage, the respectable, the gentle, or genteel), 
 should never be seen in ignorance. But this memory 
 of facts is, at the last, of very little use or dignity, 
 compared with the higher wisdom which, from instance 
 to instance, it is our duty and our happiness to draw 
 from them ; and which, when we are either too young, 
 too dull, too thoughtless, or too ill-informed, to draw- 
 it for ourselves, we should learn from the lips of others. 
 Now, the facts of which we have been speaking this 
 
16 BLRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 morning (and a great many of which I think you will 
 remember, if it is only from their relation to song- 
 birds, and to our Robin-red-breast in particular), may 
 serve to impress upon your minds two solemn and 
 even practical truths, eminently worthy of a Uheral 
 education, because corrective of vulgar prejudices, of 
 narrow estimates, and of idle errors — " 
 
 " Listen, Richard," said Mrs. Paulett; " and don't 
 plague poor pussy, Emily, by forcing her bonnet on, 
 while your papa is talking to you !" 
 
 " The first thing," proceeded their papa, " which I 
 wish to fix in your young memories, belongs to natural 
 history, and the next to human. You have read, in a 
 poem as elegant as it is pious, that ' all nature' is 
 filled with music for the ear of man ; and you have 
 also seen, in another poem, of much, but of less un- 
 mingled merit, the natural earth described as super-- 
 eminently beautiful, because — ^ 
 
 ' As yet untouched by any meaner hand 
 Than his who made it/ 
 
 But, in remarks like these, there is, as you have now- 
 heard, exaggeration, inaccuracy, and, as to the latter, 
 even a share of superstition. It is not in " all nature," 
 that all the charms of nature are always to be found ; 
 and it would be untrue if we were to say, that so mean 
 a hand as that of man is any where incapable, or is 
 not continually successful, in giving natural beauty to 
 scenes of nature otherwise very much in want of it; 
 not less than in making the works of nature useful as 
 to human purposes. In truth, nature supplies all the 
 materials, and all the principles, either of utility or 
 beauty ; man is the author of none of these, nor has 
 he the power to make even the smallest of them ; but 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 17 
 
 it is the obvious destiny of art, the power and the pri- 
 vilege of man, to seize upon these materials and these 
 principles, and Vjy their means, to perform works, 
 which, instead of being despised, — instead of being 
 spoken of invidiously, in contrast with those of nature 
 — often dispute the palm of beauty with the works of 
 nature, and always glorify nature, as testifying the 
 powers of the creature which nature has endowed! 
 Looking only to rural objects, and to the surface 
 of the earth, for food, for labour, and for travel ; 
 looking only to the landscape and to the ground-plot ; 
 and putting out of view our roads and bridges, and 
 other of the more conspicuous of the field and forest 
 works of man, in how many other particulars does not 
 man assist the face of nature, as well for natural 
 beauty, as for human sustenance and ease ? It is most 
 certain that, from space to space, and in particular 
 situations, nature herself collects together a whole 
 profusion of her charms, excludes deformity, gives to 
 man all models, and asks nothing from his aid. She 
 has her woods, her lawns, her slopes, her dells; her 
 peaceful vales and awful summits; her sparkling 
 torrents, her clear streams, her limpid springs; her 
 radiant flowers, and all her many-coloured foliages. 
 But in how many other situations, does not, and can- 
 not the hand of man release nature from a thousand 
 thraldoms which obstruct her labours, and transplant 
 into silent, solitary, and sterile spots, treasures which 
 are nature's own, but yet beyond her local reach? 
 How much that is rugged can he not smooth ; how 
 much that is uniform can he not vary ; how much that 
 is barren can he not fertilize ; how much that is pesti- 
 lential can he not purify ? To how many stagnant waters 
 can he not give motion ; and upon how many bleak 
 
18 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and naked surfaces can he not spread out the richest 
 carpet of flowers, and the richest canopies of fruits i^ 
 Let not, then, the works of nature be overrated, or at 
 least too narrowly interpreted ; and let not those of 
 men be despised, nor too hastily distinguished from 
 those of nature, seeing- that they are the works of men, 
 themselves the works of nature ! 
 
 " In the example, then, of a new country, how much 
 is there not to be expected for the future, from the 
 works of men, whether as to their plants, their animals, 
 their general productions, or as to the appearance of 
 their surface only ! Those solitary and silent flats, shall 
 they one day not be lowing with cattle, bleating with 
 sheep, shining with corn-fields, blushing with orchards; 
 smiling with cottages and villages, warm with the 
 smoke of chimneys, and gay with the domes of cities ; 
 shall not canals water the dry places, and drains 
 redeem the marshes? 
 
 " Nor is this all. It is not only what is direct from 
 the labours of man, but what 4s indirect as well ; what 
 follows without design, and often without expectation. 
 Culture changes the soils of countries; and com- 
 merce and cultivation together, change, in the most 
 remarkable manner, the productions of soils, as well 
 spontaneous as laboured. The introduction of new 
 plants and of new animals effects extraordinary and 
 collateral changes even in the wild zoology and botany 
 of countries. A foreign species of rat, which could 
 have arrived only on shipboard, is said to have found 
 its way into England ; to have spread itself over the 
 country ; and to have exterminated the native spe- 
 cies. The English house-fly, now abundant in North 
 America, is said to have been carried there in Eng- 
 lish ships. Seeds of foreign weeds, and grubs and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 19 
 
 eggs of foreign insects and reptiles, travel with the 
 seeds and roots of foreign grain, and roots, and flowers. 
 The English weed, St. John's-wort, at first hailed in 
 English America as a raritv, — as a relic from home, — 
 has multiplied itself into a weed of America, as common 
 as it is troublesome. But without foreign species, the 
 changes of the condition of the earth's surface, from 
 wet to dry, from dry to wet, from covered to open, 
 from open to covered, or from ploughed to un ploughed, 
 destroy, produce, and change the forms, the colours, 
 and the habits of native, and even local species, plants 
 and animals ; for, as to the effect, in our common agri- 
 culture, for example, of the manure of lime-dressings 
 upon a cold, wet surface, it is not merely to weaken or 
 strengthen the growth of the plants previously indige- 
 nous ; but to change the species, killing some of the 
 old ones, and producing new ones; and what is 
 more marvellous, as well as sure, that, except within a 
 certain distance of the sea, a dressing of gypsum, or 
 plaster of Paris, will bring a spontaneous growth of 
 white clover, w here white clover was never seen before ! 
 Or, reverting again, to foreign introductions ; a single 
 species, animal or vegetable, may effect, in the conse- 
 quences of its appearance, a series of even consider- 
 able changes in the native species of organized matter, 
 the most remote in nature from itself. In South Ame- 
 rica, where, as you all know (and as in America in 
 general), the horse was unknown, till carried thither by 
 Europeans ; it has been remarked, that the large herds 
 in which they now feed wild over the country, have 
 already altered very considerably its natural features ! 
 The ancient bulbous-rooted and indigenous plants, and 
 numerous species of aloes, with which the plains (or 
 pampas) were formerly overspread, have perished under 
 
20 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the trampling- of their hoofs, and are wholly disap- 
 peared ; while, in the place of these, the ground has 
 become covered with a fine grass, mixed with a species 
 of creeping thistle, hardy enough to endure what has 
 destroyed its vegetable predecessors ! But the veg-e- 
 table economy of South America being thus altered, 
 that of the insect world, subsisting upon the vegetable, 
 was to be expected to alter too ; an event which has 
 actually happened : while, along with the changes in 
 the insects and the plants, and the direct presence of 
 the horses, the very birds, and the beasts of prey, have 
 acquired new habits ! There is no saying, therefore, 
 what changes may hereafter make their appearance in 
 such a country as New Holland, effected, directly or 
 indirectly, by the hand of man ; changes in its soils, its 
 temperatures, its seasons, and its plants and animals ; 
 and consequent, one way and the other, upon human 
 culture, commerce, arts, and civilization. Already the 
 wild cangaroo of the Southern Hemisphere, is seen hop- 
 ping and grazing in the same pastures with the horse, 
 and ox, and sheep, of the Northern side of the equator, 
 carried thither by the hand of man ; and the various 
 effects of whose presence upon the Southern soil, as to 
 its composition, its pressure under their feet, its dress- 
 ing from their manure, its growth from their bite, or 
 its gain in plants, insects, reptiles, birds, quadrupeds, 
 and even, perhaps, in fishes, remains to be discovered 
 through the succession of ages! As to singing-hirdSy 
 in the meantime, and as to small birds in general, or 
 at least as to many of their species, it is a circum- 
 stance worthy of remark, that in every country, even 
 where they are native, their multiplication and fre- 
 quent appearance is often accompaniment of many 
 and of man in a civilized state; or, in other words. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 21 
 
 tliat their frequency and multiplication, often require, 
 for their production, the presence and the civilization of 
 mankind* ; truths of a nature not to be disputed as to 
 numerous quadrupeds as well; as horses, oxen, sheep, 
 dogs, cats ; and the broods, as wild or as unprotected 
 as those of birds, — namely, rats and mice. In a certain 
 sense, therefore, these creatures are parasitical ani- 
 mals ; they are the companions of man, and his de- 
 pendents for food and life. The small birds, that feed 
 upon grain and seeds, are but little seen at consider- 
 able distances from our farmsteads and our houses; 
 so, that I have ground for every hope for New Holland, 
 even to its population with singing-birds; and not the 
 least of my anticipations in its regard, is its future 
 covering with a civilization wholly English, at least as 
 far as the differences of situation and circumstances 
 can be expected to breed up a people really similar. 
 Its name of New Holland, in the meantime, is without 
 appropriate meaning; and I could wish to see it deno- 
 minated, by English authority. South Britain ! 
 
 " The absence of singing-birds, in pathless forests, 
 and uncultivated countries, has been remarked, not in 
 New Holland alone, but in ^America and elsewhere. 
 In almost all regions, the solitary forests and plains are 
 silent, and only the gardens, and the fields, and farm- 
 
 * It is often a matter for reflection, and a visible sign of man's 
 dominion upon the earth, to see the conspicuousness of the works of 
 man in the general landscape, and the importance of their bearing, 
 even in the midst of the proudest works of nature. Anacreon justly 
 insists upon the works of men, as features of a beautiful prospect ; 
 and Shakspeare, even in supposing the destruction of the " great 
 globe," remembers, not alone, nor even first, the seas and mountains, 
 but— 
 
 " The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 
 The solemn temples '." 
 
22 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 yards, musical and loquacious : ' Every leaf was at rest,* 
 says the poet, travelling in North America, 
 
 ' and I heard not a sotind, 
 
 Save the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree.' 
 
 And to the same general cause to which we are here 
 referring, may be ascribed, perhaps, much of that 
 deficiency of song-birds which is usually reported of 
 tropical (that is, to Europeans, 7iew and imcultivafed) 
 countries. Goldsmith gives to the Torrid Zone, 
 
 " Those matted woods, where birds forget to sing J" 
 
 That, in New Holland, there may, at the same time, 
 be few or no native species of singing-bird, is a real 
 probability, considering the entire singularity of all its 
 zoological characteristics. 
 
 " But this," added Mr. Paulett, " is the human hiS' 
 tory in our debate; and that part of our survey of 
 nature which is connected with civilization in general, 
 and with the relative conditions of the different coun- 
 tries of the globe, out of which, at another time, we 
 may draw our second lesson. At present," concluded 
 he, ''let us only make it our remark, that since man 
 is obviously destined, not to live in the single society 
 of his own species, but in the midst of a group also 
 of various animals, and these animals to live with 
 man ; it follows that both have been destined like- 
 wise, to live together harmoniously, kindly, and with 
 love. Domestic strife, or coldness, or inhospitality, 
 can be no part of the law of nature ; and I even 
 think it obvious, that there exists the very opposite 
 law, a law as certain in natural morals, as the law of 
 attraction in physics, which makes all these living 
 things take pleasure in each other's society; makes 
 them sympathise with each other; draws them toge- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 23 
 
 ther, and therefore establishes to demonstration how 
 they ought to live together. Montaigne, as philosophi- 
 cally as prettily, says, that he doubts whether his dog 
 has not as much pleasure in him, as he in his dog; 
 and I think it clear that even our little Robin-red- 
 breast, however shy of his company, comes to us 
 because he likes us; while the simple fact, that we 
 like his coming, establishes our duty to treat him, 
 when he is come, with peace, if not with bounty. 
 We should take no pleasure in him if nature had not 
 a further object in view; — that of making us his 
 friend !" 
 
 " Oh ! papa I" cried Richard and Emily, both at 
 once; "when winter is here, and the poor Robin is 
 hungry, and will show himself at our window, and eat 
 our crumbs ; how pleased we shall be to throw them to 
 him upon tlie snow, and the hard ground, every morn- 
 ing, and every evening ; and to hear him sing to us his 
 little song, in the darkest and dullest weather!" 
 
 Their papa and mamma praised them for these kind 
 thoughts; and I flew to drink and bathe at the edge 
 of a brook which ran through the garden, thankful 
 that human creatures felt so much goodness toward 
 little Red-breasts, and rejoicing in the prospect of 
 hospitality at Burford Cottage, during the hardships 
 of the approaching season. 
 
24 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 A lover of the meadows and the woods 
 
 And mountains, and of all that we behold 
 
 From this green earth ; of all the mightj world 
 
 Of eye and ear, both what they half create, 
 
 And what perceive. WORDSWORTH. 
 
 The clay, however, had not gone by, before a different 
 scene was spread around me ; nor before I thought 
 myself the most deficient in foresight, of all the mortals 
 of the fields and towns, in having ventured to count 
 upon enjoying the comforts acceptable in winter, at the 
 hands of the gentle inhabitants of Burford Cottage ! 
 
 There lives, in the midst of the village, and near a 
 clump of towering elm-trees, a Mr. Ephraim Gubbins, 
 a somewhat aged schoolmaster, who with his wife, 
 scarcely younger than himself, and a pretty and amia- 
 ble daughter, in her twentieth year, are all the inhabi- 
 tants of a small antique dwelling, once the abode of 
 prouder people; except that in its large oaken parlour, 
 there is assembled, thrice in every day, Sundays, and 
 Wednesday and Saturday afternoons excepted, half 
 of all the boys that belong to the village and its neigh- 
 bourhood. Mr. Gubbins is a staid person, mild in his 
 manners, and, as I had hitherto thought, one of the 
 worthiest and most hospitable of men. His habits are 
 studious; he reads much; and when he can escape 
 from his school-room, he walks about the fields and 
 lanes, climbs the sides of the hills, penetrates into the 
 deepest woods, and often pauses, either to pick up 
 something which he thinks curious, or to gather flowers. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 25 
 
 which he carries home to his ^vife or dauor-hter ; or to 
 look into the streams, or at the clouds, or at the stars, 
 or to delisi'ht in the open landscape, or to listen to little 
 birds like myself, or to the lark, or to the thrush ; or 
 apparently to meditate upon what he sees or hears, or 
 upon the recollections that come into his mind. Some- 
 times observed, and sometimes othenvise, often have 
 I been the companion of his walks, no less than a 
 guest upon his floor, or have come upon him un- 
 awares at the stile, or by the hedge-side, or among 
 the bramble-bushes; and, except that I have been 
 upon my guard against his dog, never did I think 
 myself, either at home or abroad, but as visiting, 
 or meeting, or travelling w ith a friend to me, and to 
 every thing else around him. Meditation and research 
 seem two of his greatest pleasures ; and Mr. Gubbins 
 is even distinguished for the merciful things which he 
 teaches, concerning birds and beasts, and all the animal 
 creation ; and especially for his regard to the duties of 
 hospitality to the Red-breast, and his strict commands 
 upon his boys, never to betray the confidence with 
 which our little race enters and risks its safety in the 
 abode of man ; lessons in which his wife and daughter 
 echo all that comes from his mouth ; his wife adding 
 to his precepts the examples of houses that have trem- 
 bled, in storms, wherein the Robin had been molested; 
 and his daughter seizing the cat into her arms when- 
 ever I alighted near the door, and repeating, to the 
 praise of all my ancestors, the story of the pious cares of 
 the Robin-red-breasts over the Children in the Wood ! 
 How% then, could I, a Robin-red-breast, have expected 
 sorrow from any deed of ]Mr. Ephraim Gubbins?' 
 
 It is with the second day of the week that I have 
 begun the series of events which belong to my enter- 
 
 c 
 
26 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 laining and instructive history. Upon the morning of 
 Monday, my song attracted the attention of Mr. Pau- 
 lett and his children ; upon that of Tuesday it renewed 
 the conversation at the breakfast-table ; and now, the 
 Tuesday afternoon beholds me looking out for part of 
 my supper (as, in the months of autumn, it was my gene- 
 ral wont to do) in the garden of Mr. Gubbins. This par- 
 ticular afternoon, however, the shade of the elder-trees, 
 among the dark leaves and purple berries of which latter 
 were now my movements, was lengthened over a delicate 
 and unusual little heap of food, which, somewhat to 
 my surprise, lay upon the ground ; and which, though 
 at a distance from the house, had every appearance of 
 household fare, and might have passed for the kind 
 Grumblings of cheese, and eggs, and sugar, and the 
 whitest bread, expressly prepared for myself, by the 
 pretty fingers of Mr. Gubbins's daughter, Mary ! So 
 choice a meal, and such singular good fortune, were 
 things not to be neglected ; and, while I rejoiced in 
 the latter, I scrutinized the former, first with my right 
 eye, and then with my left, as, from perch to perch 
 among the branches, I descended toward the treat! 
 What even satisfied me that the dish had been posi- 
 tively intended for my use, was the peculiarity, that 
 it was carefully concealed and fenced around, upon 
 three sides, by as many new bricks, carefully and 
 orderly set upon their edges, in such manner as to 
 make a little case or chest (I scarcely know which), and 
 so as to make a perfect parallelogram in figure ; while 
 at the top it was almost entirely shut up against 
 all unwelcome guests, by a lid, or door, or covering, 
 formed by another brick, which, in some manner or 
 other, was made to stand aslant, and only to afford 
 room sufficient for me to enter in, and to feed freely upon 
 
ITS BOBIN-RED-BREAST. 27 
 
 the feast ! So much apparent care and partiality, for 
 so humble an individual as myself (for I could not 
 doubt that it was I who was the flattered object of all 
 this preparation and contrivance), absolutely pleased 
 my vanity as highly, or more highly, than the prospect 
 of the supper pleased my palate; and, in another in- 
 stant, I had descended into the little case, and opened 
 upon a crumb of cheese the two mandibles of my bill ! 
 But in what terms shall I describe the catastrophe 
 that followed ? A sudden darkness, a loud noise, and 
 an inward shaking- of all the bricks, from the surfaces 
 to the very centres of their porous bodies, deprived 
 me, for an instant, of all consciousness, and nearly of 
 all sensation. An earthquake and a total eclipse con- 
 joined, these were the least of the fearful phenomena 
 of nature which I could imagine, unfortunately oc- 
 curring at the very commencement of my luxurious 
 supper, the very iirst mouthful of which had fallen 
 untasted from my bill ! To enhance, too, the difficulties 
 of the place and situation in which I was, there were 
 timbers between the bricks, of which I had previously 
 taken no account, but which, as I now know, materi- 
 ally assisted the subtle construction of the extraordinary 
 fabric. There was, in the first place, a wooden pile, 
 or low upright stool or pillar, deeply implanted, and 
 occupying the central place between the two bricky 
 sides, while it stood forward in the parallelogram, like 
 the foremast of a ship. Then, there was a forked twig 
 from a tree, clipped at the two ends of the fork, and 
 also behind the point from which they diverged ; and 
 it was upon the two branches of this fork, as well as 
 upon the earth beneath, that the delicate crumbs, 
 Ijeneath the shameful temptation of which I fell, had 
 been laid, with a skill and artifice as marvellous as 
 
 c2 
 
2{? BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 they wer€ deceitful. To crown all, there was a third 
 timher, a movable post or beam, which, while the 
 hindmost end of the fork was placed upon the pile or 
 stool, was itself placed upright upon the fork, so as to 
 hold the latter upon the stool at its bottom; while, at its 
 top, it supported the slanting brick, or door, or lid, or 
 cover, of the foul, misleading cave or chest! In a 
 word, it was the whole mechanism, and most abhorred 
 design, of this detested engine (too painfully successful, 
 in my unfortunate case !) that when a deluded stranger, 
 like myself, should but once have entered the horrid^ 
 gaping mouth (as I now, disabused, only too plainly 
 tmderstand it) of the devouring trap ; then, the slightest 
 touch of his gentle bill, or wings, or claws, disturbing 
 the vile fork, should upset the post which rests upon 
 it, and down come the slanting brick ; and darkness, in 
 the narrow and tomb-like precincts, envelope at once 
 the fluttering bird, the falling timbers, and the insidi- 
 ous food ! Think of me, then, as the victim of all this 
 cunning, and a prisoner in this frightful dungeon ! 
 
 After striking my wings, for a second or two, against 
 the bricks and timbers, I sunk upon the earth, con- 
 founded, terrified, despairing, and too careless, for a 
 long interval, of what was now to become of me, even 
 to refold my wings against my sides. As to the loath- 
 some food, the reader may well believe, that all of it 
 lay beneath me, and around me, untouched and dis- 
 res:arded ! What had I to do with food? Could food 
 throw down my prison walls, or make them transparent 
 to the light of heaven ? No ; I was plunged into a 
 want more instantly pressing than that of food — the 
 want of liberty ! I thought of this only, and forgot, or 
 refused to listen to, my stomach ! 
 
 But when a quarter of an hour had passed over my 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 29 
 
 head, and over the four bricks which enthralled and 
 covered me ; and when, now, my beating heart began 
 to throb less violently, and less audibly, and to suffer, 
 in the returning equilibrium of my faculties, the partial 
 working of my brain ; what perplexed me beyond mea- 
 sure was, to understand, both who could have built up 
 this abominable bird-trap, and how it could have been 
 built up at all, in the garden of Mr. Gubbins, and 
 especially in that solitary and sequestered part of the 
 garden in which I had found it, and which, for its 
 sequestration and solitariness, had long been my sa- 
 cred and my chosen haunt? I, by this time, had suth- 
 ciently recollected the figure of the trap, many of the 
 likenesses of which I had seen in other gardens than 
 that of Mr. Gubbins ; though never, till now, had I 
 been unwise enough to enter one ! I had seen sparrows, 
 and chaffinches, and greenfinches fall into such traps; 
 I had seen boys build the traps ; and had seen them 
 carry off the prej^ ; and I had heard Mr. Gubbins 
 exclaim, time after time, against all such doings by 
 his scholars, whom, besides, I knew that he prevented 
 from intruding into that part of his garden, which, 
 for this very reason, I considered my own purlieu and 
 undisturbable retreat! How, then, could the odious 
 brick-trap have been built in such a place P Could it 
 have been built for me "^ And by whom could it have 
 been built i* — built, too, and baited with the delicious 
 fare of Mrs. Gubbins's kitchen, and of Mary's platter! 
 Mr. Gubbins was a preacher against such acts ; and 
 Mary and her mother were incapable of them by 
 nature ! 
 
 *' It is the boys, then," cried I ; ''it is the boys," 
 and my heart fluttered anew ; " it is the rebellious 
 urchins of the school-room that have done this thinof- 
 
30 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 that have stolen into the recesses of the most hospita- 
 ble garden in the village; that have escaped the eye of 
 the master, and bade defiance to his commandments; 
 that have envied Mary Gubbins her little visitant, her 
 little sprite ; and jMrs. Gubbins her household deity ; 
 and Mr. Gubbins the ornament of his stone floor, and 
 the recreation of his meal-times ! They have stolen 
 into the depths of his garden ; they have built a decoy 
 for his sacred Robin ; they have profaned the good 
 man's sanctuary; and ere long (perhaps warily, by 
 night, or else tardily, to-morrow morning) they will 
 lift the ponderous brick w hich keeps me here ; clutch 
 me, trembling and yet struggling, in their bold hands; 
 bear me away to some frightful cage ; treat me w ith a 
 mockery of food ; and see me pine and starve, and 
 moping with closed eye, and with dirty, ruffled plumage, 
 and day-sleeps ; till, prone upon my back, I lie dead 
 and uncomely, upon the gravel of the board ! This is 
 my fate ! here ends my life of love, and peace, and 
 music ; I sing, now, my death song; I sing, now, my 
 dirge and elegy ! Farew ell, my fellow Robins ! fare- 
 well, my mate and young ones ! farewell, my loving 
 mother! farewell, my brother songsters, to whom I 
 have so often murmured forth my lays responsive ! 
 farewell, ye lawns, and springs, and copses ; ye val- 
 leys and ye uplands ! farewell, ye juicy blackberries, 
 ye scarlet haws ; and you, ye blazing, fire-coloured 
 hips! farewell, ye azure skies, thou western heaven, 
 and that 
 
 ' eastern gate, 
 
 Where the great san begins bis state !' 
 
 Farewell, thou Burford Cottage, and ye hospitable 
 providers of its table; ftirewell, ye tender children, 
 Emily and Richard ; farewell the promise of your 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BIIEAST. 31 
 
 winter crumbs, and the sounds of your tinkling voices, 
 as pleasing to my ears, as they have been emboldening 
 lo my heart; and farewell, Mary and Mrs. and jNIr. 
 Gubbins, within whose own demesne I have fallen; 
 fallen by traitorous hands, a victim to the contempt 
 and contravention of all your precepts, cares, and 
 anxious prohibitions!" 
 
 1 should, perhaps, have added more to this long and 
 deep lament, but that almost before I had uttered 
 the concluding syllables which I here recite, my ears 
 caught up the sounds of distant, but always approach, 
 ing footsteps. They belonged but to a single pair of 
 feet; and I thought I could distinguish, that, as they 
 w ere not those of the light or hasty steps of youth, so, 
 also, they were not the stealthy ones of him that, both 
 as to place and purpose, is upon trespass, and fears 
 either discovery or reproof: as for me, miserable and 
 overwhelming as was my condition in the trap, 1 knew 
 not whether to exult in the thought of a speedy deli- 
 verance from it, or to faint at the contemplation of the 
 misery that was to follow ; or, if I had room for choice, 
 no time was left me for deliberation. The feet drew 
 nearer and more near; the jjath received them heavier 
 and more heavy ; I heard the breathing of the fearful 
 one that was moving toward me ; the feet came close 
 to the trap; the nearer sound of the breathing told me 
 that my betrayer (or, could it be my deliverer!') was 
 stooping down to it ; the upper brick was partly lifted ; 
 the light of heaven was partially admitted to me; 1 
 prepared to fly, to spring, to struggle, to escape to the 
 woods and fields; but a large, strong hand encom- 
 j)assed my body, des[)ised the bitings of my bill, 
 compressed my wings, and held my feet ; so that 
 yielding, or rather powerless in limb, panting, breath- 
 less, but still unsubdued in spirit ; I was lifted, motion- 
 
32 BURFORD COTTAGE^ AND 
 
 less, like a lock of wool, or like an apple, from the 
 ground ; helpless, but with a keen and investigating 
 eye, to behold myself in the hand of — the venerable 
 schoolmaster, Ephraim Gubbins ! 
 
 New hopes, new doubts, new confusion, new per- 
 plexity ! Was Mr. Gubbins, this time, my old friend, 
 or my new foe? His right hand restrained me; it 
 enclosed me : he did not let me fly ; he did not launch 
 me into the sweet evening air; yet he smoothed the 
 feathers upon the crown of my head, with the fore 
 finger of his left hand, carried my bill to his lips, and 
 toiled to overcome my impatience of captivity, by 
 addressing me, in soothing tones, with words of such 
 equivocal meaning as these: "Don't be frightened, 
 my little fellow ; no harm shall happen to thee ; I 
 would not hurt thee for the world. Wait but till 
 to-morrow, and thee* shalt see, I warrant thee!" 
 
 " Wait but till to-morrow V " Wait only till to- 
 morrow !" I was a prisoner, then, till the morrow, 
 whatever after might befall me ; I, that till this petrify- 
 ing hour, had known nothing but " free Nature's 
 grace," and against whom no creature, and no thing, 
 had ever " barred the windows of the sky !" And what 
 was Mr. Gubbins's purpose with me? Was he attempt- 
 ing, by smooth words, to reconcile me to enthralment ? 
 Would he encage me, bind me, torture me ; look on 
 me, and see me die, a prisoner? " Wait only till 
 to-morrow !" Did he think, that from the experience 
 of a night, even in the softest methods of confinement, 
 I should renounce, contentedly, the use of my wings ; 
 and barter, without heart-breaking, the fields and gar- 
 
 * Grammar would require thou for thee, in this part of Mr. Gub- 
 bins's discourse ; but it must have fallen under observation, that 
 most of the theeing and thouing people among us, use thee in the 
 nominative case, as well as in the others. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 33 
 
 dens for the sightliest cage; and the vicissitudes of 
 want and plenty, of warmth and cold, and food and 
 hunger, for the shelter of any roof, or for a perpetual 
 trough of seed, or pan of paste?* If such, too, were his 
 barbarous design, by what means was he to pursue 
 it?" If the lessons of his life were to be forgotten or 
 reversed; if he would not be ashamed, before his 
 scholars, to be the gaoler of a Robin; yet how was he 
 to get the consent of his family? Would his wife 
 endure it i^ Would the tears of Mary suffer it!' I could 
 find no explanation for all my wonderment, as, still 
 holding me, though in the gentlest manner, he walked 
 hastily through the garden toward the house I 
 
 Arrived at the door of the latter, I reckoned confi- 
 dently, if not upon a speedy release, through the 
 remonstrances of ]\Irs. Gubbins and the supplications 
 of her daughter, at least upon a solution of the mystery 
 of my capture and detention. But no I Mr. Gubbins, 
 in his own house, conducted himself with evident 
 secrecy and fear, and wholly concealed me from the 
 sight of his wife and daughter ! Slowly, and silently, 
 and cautiously, he turned aside from the kitchen-door, 
 and ascended the old staircase, even to the cockloft ! 
 There, to my fresh agony, he placed me in a cage 
 which had plainly been prepared for my reception; 
 which was largely supplied with food; and round and 
 above which he drew baize and flannels, to keep me 
 warm, leaving an open space, at the same time, for the 
 admission of fresh air ; and accompanying all his 
 actions by the repetition of words and tones intended 
 to be soothing: and encouras^ins:: "Wait only till 
 to-morrow, my pretty, little Robin, and thee shalt see, I 
 warrant thee I I would not hurt thee for the world, my 
 pretty little Robin 1" 
 
 c3 
 
34 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 A few seconds more, and Mr. Gubbins had left me 
 for the night, and descended the old staircase. My 
 amazement equalled my affliction. That it was Mr. 
 Gubbins himself who laid the trap for me, and who 
 had designed, beforehand, to place me in my present 
 thraldrom, was now certain. That Mary and her 
 mother were ignorant of all ; that IMr. Gubbins was 
 afraid of their becoming acquainted with it; and that 
 I had nothing, therefore, to hope, either from their 
 reproaches or intercession (unless, indeed, in the ex- 
 treme case of their accidental discovery of my suffer- 
 ings) ; all this, in like manner, was unquestionable. 
 What, then, was to become of me? What was in 
 reserve for me? In the midst of all this disquietude 
 of grief and terror, I was still incapable of eating or 
 drinking, though, as I have said, Mr. Gubbins had 
 omitted nothing to supply my wants in both of these 
 respects. I was supperless and hungry, yet I could 
 not eat; thirsty, and yet I could not drink. But the 
 cockloft was growing dark, and the night-air becoming 
 cold, and heavy with dew ; and weariness and drowsi- 
 ness crept over my limbs, and placed their lead upon 
 my eyes. I folded my head under my wing, and fell 
 asleep ; but still endeavouring, so long as recollection 
 remained, to hope the best that I was able, from all 
 that I had previously known of Mr. Gubbins ; from 
 all that had been kind and gentle in him, even upon 
 this strange occasion ; and from the hopeful meaning 
 which his tone and manner had seemed so strongly 
 intended to convey, in uttering the words, " I would 
 not hurt thee for the world ;" and, " Wait only till 
 to-morrow, and thee shalt see, I warrant thee P' 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 35 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Dear is my little native vale, 
 
 The Red-breast builds and warbles there! 
 
 ROGERS. 
 
 Before the rising of the sun, on the next day, I awoke; 
 but, then, could only by degrees come to the recollec- 
 tion of where I was, and how I had arrived there ! I 
 remembered all, only to return to grief, or rather to a 
 dull despondency; and hardly allowed myself the 
 smallest ray of hope from the words of Mr. Gubbins 
 on the preceding night! The gray dawn advanced; 
 and though, in my sad situation, I had little relish for 
 any note of my accustomed morning song, yet partly 
 to salute the light, and partly in the faint hope that 
 Mrs. or Mary Gubbins might hear me ; and hearing, 
 restore me to the skies ; I sung, two or three times, and 
 even, w^ithout affecting to do so, in my most plaintive 
 manner, all the parts of my little lay. But there was 
 no echo, no return ; all was silence in and near my 
 solitary loft; and I sunk into a correspondent, though 
 a waking gloom. I neither ate nor drank, now, any 
 more than in the evening, of the meat and drink of 
 slavery which stood beside me. The cock was crow- 
 ing in the hen-house ; the wren had sung while it was 
 yet dark ; I, for my part, was cheerless ; a prisoner 
 and alone; and waiting for my fate ! 
 
 Two hours afterward, however, I heard a step up 
 the ladder ; and instantly I flattered myself with the 
 belief that Mary Gubbins had indeed heard me, and 
 would find me, and procure my release ! To encourage 
 
36 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and to guide her search, and to make myself sure of 
 her compassion, I prolonged every note, and gave to 
 each my tenderest and most supplicating air. But, 
 alas! the voice which answered, and the step which 
 followed it, were not Mary's, but her father's; the 
 man who had become so cruel to me, and whom, now 
 (and in spite of his smooth words), I so much dreaded. 
 Uplifting the trap-door, and with a hideous cap upon 
 his head (its worsted tassel bolt upright upon the 
 crown), the ugly vision was too soon before my eyes, 
 but accompanied with speeches that were at least 
 intended for my comfort and satisfaction : " That's my 
 pretty Robin," said Mr. Gubbins; " what, chanting 
 thy morning song, just as if thee wer't among the 
 springs and bushes, and (like any other early bird) 
 hadst found the worm ! And so thou hast, my Robin ; 
 for, see," continued he, " I have been into the garden 
 for thee, and dug thee worms and grubs, and here 
 they are ;" at saying which he passed into the cage a 
 wooden spoonful of garden-mould, with worms and 
 insects, of nothing of all of which, in the meantime, 
 had I the smallest will or disposition to take notice! 
 
 " I'll tell thee what," presently subjoined Mr. Gub- 
 bins, after waiting, in vain, to see me eat, and push- 
 ing the dainties toward me, in all directions, to allure 
 me ; " Pll tell thee what, my pretty Robin," he sub- 
 joined, " I will take thee, cage and all, for the present, 
 to neighbour Mowbray's ; now, before any body is 
 stirring in the street, and before my wife or daughter 
 is in the kitchen, and especially before my boys are 
 coming to school ; for it would never do for the young 
 rogues to see their old master caging a Robin ; me, that 
 have so long taught them every thing to the contrary ; 
 and, as to my Mary and her mother, they w ould break 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 37 
 
 their poor hearts, and be scared out of their seven 
 senses, if they thought that I could do such a thing ; 
 and dear souls, they would never be reconciled to 
 my experiment, and they don't know the pains that 
 must sometimes be taken in the search for knov/- 
 ledge ! I would not have even Mowbray's wife or 
 children see me with thee, my Robin ; for they, too, 
 would be in arms at my seeming cruelty ; but Mow- 
 bray is a kind neighbour, and a sensible man, and 
 will let me deposit thee for a season, my Robin, 
 and then thee shalt see what thee shalt see ! Poor 
 Mowbray, his wife and children will be milking the 
 cows, and looking after the new-laid eggs, to serve the 
 quality in the village ; and he will be sure to be 
 moving about somewhere ; for, early and late, the 
 honest creatures are striving, and preparing to part with 
 their little all, for their sad voyage to Van Diemen's 
 Land. Ah I my pretty Robin," added he, " the poor 
 Mowbrays are going further than thee, and yet they 
 love home as well as thee dost, I warrant thee ; and I 
 do not know what we shall do without them, for they 
 are kind neighbours, and there is nobody besides 
 them that sells such good milk, and such nice new- 
 laid eggs. Come along, my little Robin, and let us 
 see where neighbour Mowbray will put thee 1" 
 
 Saying this, Mr. Gubbins lifted the cage which 
 contained me, and spread over it, for concealment, the 
 coverings which he had by night wrapped about it to 
 keep me warm; and descending the ladder and the 
 stairs, walked hastily down the street with me, to 
 jNIowbray's farmhouse. It was even yet the still of 
 the morning. None of the vilhigers were abroad ; the 
 water of a little stream, which flowed gently by the 
 road side, upon which some ducks were just about to 
 
38 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 make their first appearance for the day, was unrippled 
 by the slightest breeze, but received into it the shadows 
 of the trees, just as if they fell upon so much glass; and, 
 rising behind an October mist, the great globe of the 
 sun showed its red fire but a little above the level of 
 the gate of Farmer Mowbray's straw-yard. Entering 
 the cart-lodge, and hiding and securing me and my 
 cage, for the moment, beneath a sack, in the corner of 
 the inside of a waggon, Mr. Gubbins then left me, to 
 go in search, as he did not fail to say to himself (but 
 talking, as it were to me), of his friend Mowbray, and 
 to make him the confident of my presence, and of the 
 designs he had upon me ; in a word, of the whole 
 subject of my miseries and fears ! A few seconds an- 
 swered his purpose. He returned, bringing with him 
 Mowbray ; and now I was carried and locked into the 
 granary, Mr. Gubbins saying to me, during this 
 process, " I told thee, my pretty Robin, that I would 
 not hurt thee for the world, and that thee need'st but 
 wait till the morrow ; and now thee and I will have a 
 walk through the fields as soon as I have dined, and 
 thee shalt see what thee shalt see. For, neighbour 
 Mowbray,*' he continued, addressing all the rest to 
 the friend beside him ; " thee know'st that, like mj' 
 scholars, I have a half-holiday to-day, because it is 
 Wednesday ; and thee know'st, too, that I love to turn 
 my half-holidays to profit, by getting a breathing in 
 the fields, and by studying the works they show me!" 
 " Aye, Mr. Gubbins," said Farmer Mowbray, " you 
 are right ; you are right. You do well to get a mouthful 
 of fresh air when you can, and to look at the green 
 fields, and the blue skies ; and to smell the furrows, 
 and to hear the sparrows and the crows ; and, by the 
 way, yon's a piece of turnips for you to look at, that's 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 39 
 
 all over as green as an emerald ! I often pity you, 
 Mr. Gubbins, though my boys get their learning from 
 you, and we can never be too thankful ; I often pity 
 you, and think, when I am enjoying myself at dung- 
 cart, or at plough, or at threshing in the barn there, 
 along with my men ; what a hard life you have of it, 
 stived up in your school-room, or fastened to your 
 desk, or poring over your books I But, as to that poor 
 bird, it makes me groan (and so it does the mother 
 and the children), that where we are going, we shall 
 never, as they say, see the like of it, nor of any of the 
 pretty warblers that I have listened too, man and boy, 
 alonsr our valley, ever since that I was born ! It is a 
 trying thing, friend Gubbins, to leave one's native 
 place, without a hope of returning ; and to carry away 
 mother and child to a far country, and over a wide 
 ocean, and to sit down where every thing must be 
 strange and unkidJike*, and nothing that we have seen 
 before !" 
 
 " Indeed it is, neighbour ^loubray," replied Mr. 
 Gubbins ; "' and we often talk of thee and thine, at the 
 old house, accordingly; and my wife and daughter 
 cry when they think of parting with thee and thy 
 wife, and thy promising boys and girls, and especially 
 with little Fanny ; and 'Squire Paulett, and his lady, 
 and the parson, and the doctor, and all thy neigh- 
 bours are sorry for thee. But is there no hope, friend 
 Mowbray? Is the die cast? Must thee certainly go?" 
 
 " There is but one chance left," said Mowbray ; 
 *' 'Squire Paulett (God reward him for it !) is doing all 
 
 * A country pronunciation of uncouth, but used in the sense of 
 dreary; melancholy. The literal signification of uncouth, is strange, 
 unknown, unusual ; but, though from that single root, the relative 
 ideas which the word also represents are various. 
 
40 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 he can to see me righted ; and, if he succeeds, why, 
 then, we may stay by the old barns, and the old barns 
 may stay by us ; but I am afraid of the worst and the 
 worst. Mig-ht, they say, overcomes right ; and, though 
 I know I sha'n't lose the day, if 'Squire Paulett can help 
 it, I fear it's all in vain, all that he is doing for me !" 
 
 " It makes me gay as a lark in spring," cried Mr. 
 Gubbins, " to hear that thee hast still a chance ; and 
 that 'Squire Paulett, who is always doing good for the 
 whole parish, is still at work for thee : and, with thy 
 cause in such hands, I counsel thee, not so much to 
 fear the worst, as to hope the best ; and to look about 
 thee, whether thee, and thy wife, and thy children, 
 cannot yet stay at home, and live upon English 
 ground, and listen to English song-birds ! So, fare 
 thee well, neighbour, for this morning ; and, as soon 
 as I have sent away my boys, and snapped up a hasty 
 dinner, I shall come to thee for my Robin, and set out 
 upon my journey. Good bye, Robin; be patient, my 
 little fellow, till noon; and then thee shalt soon see 
 what thee shalt see !" Thus saying, he stepped out of 
 the granary, followed by Farmer INIowbray, who locked 
 the door upon me. 
 
 In what manner I passed the dreary hours of my 
 continued confinement, from sun-rise till the after- 
 noon, the reader, who is aware of what I have de* 
 scribed already, will easily imagine ! But my tyrant 
 came at last. Entering the granary with Farmer 
 Mowbray, and setting about to cheer me with his un- 
 intelligible words of promise, and of pledge to occasion 
 me no hurt, he opened the cage door; and taking me 
 once more into his terrific hand, placed me (will it be 
 believed?) within the meshes of some cabbage-net, or 
 else of such a net as certain persons hang in the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 41 
 
 breeding-cages of canary-birds I '' There, my pretty 
 Robin I'' said he, " thee wilt have plenty of air ; and 
 nothing- will crush thee, nor bruise thee ; for, though 
 I must cover thee and thy net with a handkerchief, 
 till we are clear of the village, lest the sight of thee in 
 my hand should breed scandal against old Gubbins ; 
 yet, as soon as we are fairly beyond the village, I 
 will let thee breathe thy fill, and see the skies and the 
 fields and hedges; and, more than this, thy troubles 
 will soon be over, and thee shalt see what thee shalt 
 see!" Barbarous man, how can my troubles soon be 
 over, shuddered I to myself, unless my life is to be 
 over too ; for when or where is the life that is without 
 its troubles ? Doth not the Scotch Robin sing — 
 
 " There's noclit but care on every ban', — " 
 
 and wilt thou imbrue thy hypocritical hands in my 
 blood, under pretext that my troubles will soon be 
 over ; and wilt thou hide me under thy handkerchief 
 in the village, to hide thy guilt also, and prevent 
 scandal against old Gubbins ; and then carry me into 
 the lone fields, and kill me where there are none 
 but the dumb sheep to be the witnesses? So, for a 
 minute or two, I struggled as hard as I was able, and 
 bit, and pecked, and scratched, and kicked at the 
 meshes, but to no purpose ; and then I sunk again 
 into despair, and lay motionless at the bottom of the 
 net! "Well," said Farmer ^Mowbray, as ^Ir. Gubbins 
 led him, by the back way of the farm, and by the side 
 of the turnips ; " well, I shall be curious to know the 
 end of it; so, I wish thee success, and I pity the poor 
 bird the while; but remember me to Cobbler Dykes : 
 he will soon make him a halter, and I dare say that 
 you will do it all as it should be, between you both. 
 Good afternoon !" 
 
42 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 '' ' Good afternoon/ repeated I, with horror, to my- 
 self! ' Good afternoon!^ — ' Farewell for ever' would 
 have been the least that Farmer Mowbray should have 
 said, if he had been sjDeaking to me! Cobbler Dykes is 
 to make me a halter ! so, that the monster Gubbins will 
 not spill my blood, for fear of detection ; and I am to 
 die, not in the light of the sun, and amid the flowers 
 of the fields, and while the linnets are singing on the 
 spray, and by the single wickedness of the horrid 
 Mr. Gubbins ; but there are two grim conspirators 
 against my life, and Farmer Mowbray is an accessary 
 before the fact ! He said he was * curious to see the 
 end of it ;' that is, ' the end oi'me /' I like his curiosity ! 
 And this is what Mr. Gubbins meant in the morning, 
 by talking of the ' pursuit of knowledge!' A Robin is 
 to be strangled, in order that a cobbler, a schoolmaster, 
 and a farmer, may grow knowing! And I am to be 
 hanged in a cobbler's stall, as well as stifled with the 
 smell of wax and leather, and my knell is to be rung 
 upon a lapstone! A pretty story for the world, if 
 secrecy were not sure to wrap it in darkness ; — if 
 history could ever really tell the tale of 
 
 ' Who kill'd Cock Robin!' " 
 
 Mr. Gubbins was as good as his word in one re- 
 spect, and I feared that he would be equally steady 
 in all his purposes ! We were no sooner in the turnip- 
 field, than he took his handkerchief from off" the net, 
 and let me see and breathe the scenes and air around 
 me ; and now, being out of sight and hearing of the 
 village, he returned to what I believed to be his hollow, 
 canting, treacherous, and double-meaning speeches, 
 about doing me no harm ; bringing my troubles to a 
 finish ; and letting me see what I should see ! Unable 
 to let him know much of my mind, I displayed at least 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 43 
 
 my anger and discontent by the most perfect silence ; 
 and, indeed, thought of little beside the cruel fate 
 which I judged impending, and of the joys and com- 
 forts of Burford Cottage, and of all the vale in which 
 it stands, and which I was never more to feel ! 
 
 " Over brake, and over briar ;" over gates, and over 
 stiles; over pasture, and over arable, through fields 
 and woods,— Mr. Gubbins hurried me along; every 
 now and then, however, caressing me, and disturbing 
 me with the accents of a tongue which, that day, I 
 thought a serpent's for its deceit; and which seemed to 
 me rather to hiss, than to strike out any of those silver 
 tones that, before, I had been accustomed to fancy 
 in it ! Sometimes, indeed, to the depths of my 
 reverie, came the tinkling of the sheep-bells, and the 
 whistling of the ploughboy ; the chattering of the jay, 
 the screaming of the pie, and the rich melody of the 
 blackbird ; but what delight could I now take in any 
 of these ; I, whom two foul conspirators were soon to 
 choke, and to plunder of the power to give one note to 
 the full concert of the universal grove ? Mile after mile 
 was travelled in this, to me, afflicting manner; the 
 beams of the sun, the whiteness of the clouds, the 
 gold and crimson of the autumnal trees, the purple 
 and the yellow of the field-flowers; the verdure of the 
 grass, the lowing of the cattle, the bleating of the 
 sheep, the songs of a thousand birds, seemed to be 
 the deckings and celebration of a jubilee ; and through 
 all that scene, and joyousness, and stir, I and Mr. Gub- 
 bins wound our way — to a funeral — an execution ; and 
 I the sufferer and the slain I 
 
 Every now and then, too, Mr. Gubbins, as was 
 so natural in a guilty person, either looked carefully 
 behind him, or seemed to stop, as if afraid to overtake 
 
44 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 some neighbour, or at least something- that was human 
 and humane, and to whom his doings might become 
 apparent. The white bark of a distant birch-tree, 
 shining in the evening sun, how often did he not mis- 
 take it for the white apron, or white frock, of an inno- 
 cent village maiden, coming from market or from the 
 fair; and the gray trunks of the ash-trees, did not 
 every one of them appear the coat or the cloak of 
 some village patriarch or matron, before whom, as be- 
 fore their children, he would have sunk into the earth 
 which he was treading, to see himself detected in his 
 feats against a Robin? Once, where a gap in the 
 hedge, upon the crest of a hill, and a space between 
 the bank, and the remains of a stile, gave place to a 
 solitary post, " Of a surety,^' cried he, " there is a man 
 — no, it is a boy — and it is Jem Pry, as I am a school- 
 master, and as my name is Gubbins ! What shall I 
 do? If I go back, he will be upon my heels; if I push 
 on, I shall be by his side ; if I wait till the sun shall be 
 going down, Mrs. Dykes will have put away her tea- 
 things; and the twelve miles which I have to walk 
 (six out, and six to my own home again) will not be 
 finished till late, and Mrs. Gubbins will think that I 
 am robbed and murdered?'' After a pause, then, he 
 proceeded, as the only alternative which was left to 
 him ; but first carefully covering, with his handker- 
 chief, me and the net which held me. The post 
 speedily showed itself a post, and he returned the 
 handkerchief to his pocket ; but, in five minutes after, 
 upon abruptly turning a hedge, he found himself 
 really close behind Ralph Wilcox, an old neigh- 
 bour, and old companion, and whom he could neither 
 escape, nor omit to congratulate upon the yielding 
 of his rheumatism ! Hastily replacing, therefore, his 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 45 
 
 handkerchief, he joined Ralph Wilcox, vowed that 
 he was glad to see him, complimented his firm steps, 
 and (what I thought extraordinary) confessed that he 
 was o-oinof to Cobbler Dvkes's! At the next division 
 of the path, however, he anxiously took leave of Ralphs 
 insisting that the way through the wood in the bot- 
 tom was the nearest and the dry est, though Ralph 
 declared it a Cjuarter of a mile about, and that he 
 would find it wet and spongy with the showers and 
 fallen leaves : " Good-night, then, good-night," said 
 Ralph ; " an' ye will go your own way ; and mind 
 you tell the cobbler and his wife that I axed after 
 them kindly, and that he must get my heavy shoes 
 done, now that winter's a-coming. Ah !" continued 
 be, raising his voice, as ]Mr. Gubbins strode away 
 from him, toward the wood ; " ah I you are two comi- 
 cal rogues, for your curiosity and your larning; and 
 you are alwuys a-doing something together, to make 
 you more and more knowing ! Ps sure you don't carry 
 that there handkerchief for nothing ; but that you and 
 the cobbler are after some queer thing together !'^ 
 
 Mr. Gubbins mended his pace, and I sunk into 
 the lowest corner of my net, at words which seemed to 
 import discovery to him, and conviction of my fate to 
 me! ''Comical rogues," I sighed and murmured! 
 " rogues, there can be no doubt ; but where does Ralph 
 Wilcox find his iragic villains?" I might have lifted 
 my voice while we were in company with that rustic, 
 but I was not sure but that he would have joined his 
 friend for my destruction ; and, besides, I feared that 
 if ^Ir. Gubbins did but hear me tweet, he might pinch 
 my windpipe, or twist my neck, in the concealment 
 of the handkerchief, and kill me unseen, and on the 
 spot ! 
 
46 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 The parted bosom clings to wonted home. 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 " Welcome ! welcome !" cried Cobbler Dykes, as 
 Mr. Gubbins entered, at length, the village to which he 
 was bound, and drew near to the stall, of which the 
 door was open, and in which, the moment before, the 
 inquisitive and cheerful artificer was at once hammer- 
 ing his newest leather, and singing his oldest song: 
 " Welcome ! welcome ! Master Gubbins," he exclaimed ; 
 "I see thee'st gotten him, and now we'll lose no time 
 in doing his business ! Poor thing ! it's growing latish, 
 you see ; and it will be best to do it while there's day- 
 light enough. He will like it the better !" Judge 
 for yourself, reader, of my feelings, at this astounding 
 moment ! 
 
 " Ah ! John,'^ cried Mrs. Dykes, from the adjoining 
 and only other chamber in the house, " thee should'st 
 have had the collar ready, man. But, now late or not 
 late, let Mr. Gubbins have a cup of nice tea before thee 
 meddles with Robin. I have just poured the water 
 into the pot, and the cakes are hot at the fire, and the 
 bird will take no harm while you both take a cup of 
 tea; and then you can make an end of him as soon as 
 you like, and the sooner, I am sure, the better ! Poor 
 thing ! where is he ? I shouldn't wonder if he would 
 like to eat a little first, himself?" 
 
 Mr. Gubbins, by this time, had reached Mrs. Dykes's 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 47 
 
 tea-table ; and, at her invitation, be did not hesitate 
 to remove the handkerchief from off the net, and to lay 
 me, confined as I was within it, upon a second table, 
 nearer to the window. There was room for me to put 
 out my tail, and even my head, through the meshes; 
 and Mrs, Dykes had quickly placed, close to my 
 bosom, and almost in my bill, a heap of bread- 
 crumbs, and even a spoonfull of cold water ; adding- 
 to her former remarks, that she " should not wonder, 
 too, if I were dry, as well as hungry!" 
 
 Hunger and thirst, what were they to me, and water 
 and crumbs of bread, how could I look at them, when 
 my eyes were occupied with such sights as the cob- 
 bler's inner chamber now discovered to my view ^ — 
 Abating the stall in which he worked, and which, 
 besides its lasts, its knives, its awls, and bristles, and 
 besides even the ballads, and the newest pictures of 
 kings and councillors, held, even itself, a few strings 
 of bird's eggs, the bill of a crane,, and the skull of a 
 weazel; — abating this, the adjoining chamber, as I 
 have said, was the entire house of the cobbler and 
 his wife; and with what variety and fulness was not 
 this chamber furnished, till, within it, there was 
 scarcely room for guest or hosts to move ; or, moving, 
 to avoid displacing or dislodging something, of which 
 the legs were lost or broken, the fastenings rotten, or 
 the supports unsteady I Here were a bed, and tables, 
 and arm-chairs, and stools, and chests, and worn-out 
 cushions, and pieces of darned and threadbare carpet ; 
 but it was upon the walls that hung or stuck the ob- 
 jects that fixed all my thoughts, and in which the 
 reader has to learn what it was my eyes beheld ! I say 
 nothing of the blackened canvas-pictures and their 
 dim golden frames; nothing of cups and saucers. 
 
48 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 India fans, shelly grottoes, sanded churches, ancient 
 almanacs, or older samplers ; nor of the plaster casts 
 of busts, and gems, and medals, in this studio of the 
 cobbler virtuoso, besides pebbles, crystals, peacocks' 
 and parrots' feathers, and ears of corn, and feathery 
 tops of reeds, and gothic watch-cases, with gothic 
 watches in them, upon and over the whole mantel- 
 piece ; but I beg the reader to pity me, when I tell 
 him, that I saw — in glazed black boxes, papered white 
 within, — the feathery coverings, and beaded eyes, of 
 shrivelled and distorted birds, perched upon sticks 
 exactly like the timbers in my trap, and garnished forth 
 with tufts of yellow withered moss, or made to hold, in 
 their dead beaks, beetles as dead as the beaks, and by 
 which, living, they could not have been so detained ! 
 For a single instant, I believed that all these birds 
 were yet alive, and that the real secret of my lot was, 
 that I had been brought to be imprisoned in their 
 company ; but, besides that I soon discovered in the 
 glaring eyes, the cramped legs and necks, and the 
 smeared and ruffled feathers, that they were but mock- 
 eries of living gait and beauty ; I was also soon as- 
 sisted, by Mr. Gubbins himself, to learn the history of 
 these piteous mummies, and to form, once more, a 
 new estimate of the horrors which probably awaited 
 me, when those " comical rogues" of Ralph Wilcox, 
 finishing their tea, should set about to finish me as 
 well ! I learned that Cobbler Dykes was an adept at 
 stuffing birds and beasts ; that he stripped oflT skins as 
 he stripped off upper-leathers; that he pared joints 
 and flesh as he pared soles; and that he sewed up 
 bodies which he had embalmed, as he sewed up 
 seams which had given way ! Mr. Gubbins compli- 
 mented him upon his skill, and admired his last new 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED BRFAST. 49 
 
 performances, wliicli consisted, however, not, this 
 time, in deformino: the aspects of birds, but only those 
 of beasts; a grinning- kitten, which looked as if it were 
 then drowning-; and a monkey, dried, and habited 
 like a sailor, seated in a boat, at his oar, and smoking 
 a short blackened pipe, which the cobbler, with some 
 reluctance, had spared from his own mouth, to adorn 
 the mouth of Pug. I took notice that Mr. Dykes had 
 not judged proper to habit Pug as a cobbler, and to 
 give him a bench and apron; as some other stuffer, and 
 at least a sailor, less tenacious of the respect belonging 
 to shoe-mending, would have been likely to prefer ! 
 
 I saw plainly, at this juncture, and in long and 
 dismal perspective, the whole series of all those re- 
 maining troubles of my existence which Mr. Gubbir.s 
 had assured me should soon be over! It was clear 
 enough, with the sights now before me, that Cobbler 
 Dykes was to make me a collar; that I was to be 
 hanged, or at least strangled, perhaps by the united 
 hands of Mr. Gubbins and the cobbler and his wife; 
 and that then, instead of being buried in the shade of 
 a rose-bush, as would have been performed by Emily 
 and Richard, had I died in the garden of Burford Cot- 
 tage ; or thrown into the next green field, or even 
 upon the next dunghill, as I might have hoped from 
 savages any thing short of those that had engaged in 
 the present plot; and in which I mi^ht have been 
 swallowed by the first carrion-crow, or given my feathers 
 to the sportive winds, my flesh to the beetles, green 
 and gold ; and my bones been picked by the ants, 
 who would have left them only in ivory whiteness ; — 
 instead of this, after my strangling, I was to be cut and 
 carved, and embalmed and camphorated, and cobbled 
 
 D 
 
'^50 BURFORD COTTAGE, A^D 
 
 into the semblance of life, to enrich, years after years, 
 the museum of Mr. Dykes ! Was I not to be pitied? 
 
 " I think, friend Dykes,'' said Mr. Gubbins, " that it 
 cannot be less than fifty years since thee and I found 
 out each other's taste for Nature and her works ; since 
 we began to collect flowers, and leaves, and shells, and 
 birds'-eg-gs ; and since we used to rise together in the 
 morning to listen to the larks; and go into the woods 
 at night, to drink in, with all our ears, the luscious 
 tunings of the nightingale?" 
 
 " It's true, it's true," replied Cobbler Dykes, " but 
 thee always soaredst higher than I ; and, not content 
 with the birds, and beasts, and crickets, and butterflies, 
 thee lookedst at the stars, and at the skies that hold 
 them; and would'st needs find out causes, and be a 
 philosopher, while I was but a humble naturalist !" 
 
 "Ah ! Master Dykes," returned Mr. Gubbins, " thee 
 hadst always a head, too, as well as I; but thee wast 
 more taken with outward figures of things, and I 
 with their inner substance. Yet, though I have given 
 myself to books, and thee to mechanics and handi- 
 craft ; thee hast persevered in the gaining of natural 
 knowledge, and art no mean ornithologist, I can tell 
 thee; as well as diver into many other matters of 
 curious entertainment. Thee hast a head. Master 
 Dykes; and I think (though, perhaps, I know not how 
 it happens) that there are not a iew examples of 
 artists of thy gentle craft, that are curious in books or 
 in nature, like thyself." 
 
 *' I have always been curious concerning birds, T 
 confess," said Cobbler Dykes : " thee know'st that I 
 have been up early and late, to catch them, and to 
 stuflf them ; and to hang them, as thee seest, about my 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 51 
 
 poor ragg-ed walls. I love the little creatures so much ; 
 their feathers are so beautiful, and there is such a 
 variety !" 
 
 " Oh 1 the ogre," I exclaimed to myself; *' his love 
 of birds is the counterpart of the love of those who 
 iove ' a leg and a wing, and a piece of the breast;' he 
 loves them as they were loved by a certain divine, who 
 writes thus to his grandson : ' You are fond of birds, 
 especially pretty little birds, that have pretty feathers, 
 — blue, green, yellow, red, fine glossy black, and fair 
 lilv white, with nice bills and beautiful leu's. Now 
 you must know, Adam, that I am very fond of these 
 nice little birds. I iove little birds; yes, / love them 
 even when they are dead ; and / get their skins stuffed, 
 and made to look just as if the birds were alive*!' 
 Loving soul ! and just such as he, thought I, are these 
 lovers of birds, Messrs. Gubbins and Dykes ; for these 
 curious people are sometimes sad tormentors of the 
 objects of their curiosity! I thank the reverend writer, 
 in the meantime, for all that he has said of Robim; 
 and especially for his hint about giving us morsels of 
 cheese, of which, as he justly says, we are *' very fond." 
 Alas I cheese drevv myself into the trap I 
 
 I omit, however, a great part of the conversation of 
 these men-wolves, and of the witch that managed the 
 tea-cups (for these they long appeared to me) ; partly 
 because much of it had nothing to do with myself, 
 and therefore to me, during these lingering moments, 
 no object to fix my attention, or imprint my memorv ; 
 and partly because much more of it consisted in 
 the sickening details (some of them already known 
 to the reader), of my hapless capture in the brick 
 
 * Life of Adam Clarke, LL. D., F. S.A., &c. 
 
 D 2 
 
62 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 trap; and the full account of which, the long preme- 
 ditation of the violence, the cunning of the artifice, 
 and the chuckling of the triumph, all contributed to 
 disgust, enrage, and mortify me. I hasten toward a 
 brighter period ; or, toward that epoch in the table-talk, 
 which dissipated my heavier fears, and softened my 
 fiercer anger ; which promised me a speedy restoration 
 to my freedom, and only left me to smile at the ignor- 
 ance, and to resent the frivolous impertinence, which 
 had occasioned me so much pain, and grief, and 
 terror, and thirst, and hunger; but of all which no 
 serious consequence was to follow or remain I I had 
 been brought from home only to see whether I could 
 find my way back ; and I was to be set free in the 
 twinkling of an eye, though with a leather collar round 
 my neck, — that / might be known for // The reader 
 will be half as happy as I was, to learn this most 
 favourable change in my day's prospects ! 
 
 " And yet," said Cobbler Dykes, " though it may 
 be as well to prove it by experiment, I think there 
 is hardly room for doubt that Robin will find his way 
 home, and take his supper in his old quarters, wherever 
 they are, this very evening. The distance is but six 
 miles ; he must certainly know the country ; and, in 
 his way of travelling, neither the distance nor the time 
 can be worth mentioning. They say that the crow 
 flies twenty-five miles an hour, the goose sixty, and 
 the swift ninety.'' 
 
 " Thee knowest," remarked Mr. Gubbins, " that it is 
 only about his finding his way that I am curious ; and 
 that I allow the time and the distance, provided he 
 does not lose himself, to be no difficulties in the mat- 
 ter. Thee knowest, in short, that it has been a favourite 
 notion of mine, that other birds, and indeed other 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. o3 
 
 animals of all kinds, find their way home, when they 
 are parted from it, as readily as pigeons, though it has 
 not happened that men have taken equal notice in all 
 cases. Thee mayest be sure, friend Dykes, that I 
 expect my pretty Robin to come back, and to find 
 no difficulty; for I would not else expose him to the 
 trial. I would not harm him for the world ; and I 
 told him that he had only to wait till this afternoon, to 
 see the end of all his troubles." 
 
 These words of o;ood ]Mr. Gubbins restored an entire 
 friendship between us. I forgave him the small sins 
 of all the rest. The forgiveness, too, which I imparted, 
 retuiTied to beatify myself. Health and strength came 
 back to me with good humour. I could eat and 
 drink ; and I thought that it would be no bad thing to 
 make a meal, before I was set forward on my flight. 
 I pecked at Mrs. Dykes's crumbs, and reached at the 
 water; and, seeing me thus lively, and desirous of 
 food, every hand began to minister to my comfort and 
 my wishes. Mrs. Dykes put saffron into the water, 
 to cheer me ; and crumbs of cheese beside the bread ; 
 and Mr. Gubbins even produced from his pocket a 
 hard e*^^, to chop the yolk, and mingle it, with maw- 
 seed and milk, along with the crumbs, into a hearten- 
 ing paste. I ate and drank freely ; and though I was 
 not a little impatient for my collar and my flight, I 
 listened w ith some degree of interest to the prolonged 
 discussions of the two naturalists, which still delayed 
 my journey. 
 
 " Thy experiment with thy Robin-red-breast," said 
 the cobbler, " will prove little, because he is already 
 too near at home ; but the faculty which all animals 
 possess of keeping the road they want, through dis. 
 
54 BURFORD-COTTAGE, AND 
 
 tances the most remote, and where, to human appre- 
 hension, there is nothing- natural to direct their course, 
 is certainly among the striking' phenomena of nature ; 
 though, at last, it only shows, what we ought to 
 have believed beforehand, that all things are provided 
 with means apportioned to their necessities. Dogs,, 
 cats, horses, oxen, sheep, — all things find their way, in 
 circumstances which often surprise us; and the return 
 of the dove to his dove-cote is no more, and even upon 
 a scale comparatively much less, than the marvellous 
 return of the swallow to his mansion, and the martin 
 to his temple; and of so many other birds of passage ; 
 to leave out of our present thoughts the nimiber of 
 migrating fishes, and of four-footed beasts !" 
 
 " Thee sayest well and cautiously,'^ interrupted 
 Mr. Gubbins, " that it is to human apprehension only, 
 that they have nothing natural to guide them; for 
 their guides, in reality, must be as plainly natural, as 
 they are sure and efficacious?" 
 
 " And among these," assented Cobbler Dykes, 
 -' must be the exquisite powers of their eyes, their 
 nostrils, and their ears. They see, smell, and hear, 
 where, to our limited experience, those functions seem 
 impossible. They take the minutest notice, too, (as 
 I am persuaded), of the visible forms and appear- 
 ances of things ; and above all, they are directed by 
 the most intense internal sensibility, throughout their 
 entire frames, to the state of the atmosphere, affecting 
 the state of their own bodies; so as to be informed of 
 times and seasons, of the hours of the day, of the 
 direction of places, and of the approach, and approach- 
 ing departure of particular weathers, or of atmosphe- 
 rical phenomena; to an extent, and with a precision, 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 00 
 
 of which, as we do not ourselves, in our artificial ways 
 of life, depend so implicitly upon such aids, we form 
 no adequate idea \" 
 
 " As to what thee sayest," again interrupted Mr. Gub- 
 bins, " about their taking notice of places ; let me tell 
 thee, while I think of it, an anecdote of a dog, which 
 I have heard of from London, since thee and I enjoyed 
 ourselves in this sort of talk ; and which, though as 
 short as it is simple, and as simple as it is short, will 
 prove more for the reasoning powers of the animal, 
 and against a blind instinct, than many longer tales. 
 The dog was of a large size, but not a twelvemonth 
 old. His master lived at the second door from the 
 corner, in one of those numerous streets which cross 
 each other at right angles, in thenorth-vvest partof the 
 town; and where the pavement, lamps, steps, doors, 
 and fronts of the houses are all so much alike. I 
 should add, that at the distance of twenty doors, there 
 was a second corner of two crossing streets, almost 
 exactly resembling the first. Now, the well-grown 
 puppy, perplexed by these similitudes, would fre- 
 quently mistake his master's door, but only to this 
 extent : he would go to the second door from the second 
 corner, instead of the second door from the first; and 
 what did this make manifest, but that the dog did not 
 know the door, or at any time find it, through a blind 
 and inexplicable instinct, but by the same rule that 
 would have guided his master himself, in any similar 
 emergency. The door which he had to find was a 
 second door from a corner ; that he knew ; and though, 
 for some little time, he often mistook the corner, he 
 never failed to fix upon a second door !" 
 
 " I admire thy story," said Cobbler Dykes, " as one 
 that is more than commonly to the point ; and though 
 
66 BURFOUD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 what I have to give in exchange belongs rather to the 
 whole herd of general stories of the sagacity or reason- 
 ableness of dogs, or their approach to human manners 
 and modes of action, yet I venture to recite it. We 
 have, in our village, a terrier, which, at home and 
 abroad, shows his sagacity, in various ways, to the 
 equal admiration of his master and his mistress. At 
 home, if he is hungry, and if the usual supply of food 
 is wanting, his mistress can put money into his mouth, 
 which he will carry to a dog's-meat shop, and lay 
 down in exchange for a meal. Abroad, his master, 
 who is a labouring man, and whom he accompanies, 
 in the evening, to chat and take a pint, at the King's 
 Head, can send him, with a halfpenny in his mouth, 
 to the bar ; and, in his mouth, he w ill bring back a 
 biscuit in exchange. He neither trespasses upon the 
 biscuit, nor does he carry the money to the dog's-meat 
 shop, as, in the former case, and for his own food, 
 he knows that he has leave to do." 
 
 " Well !" said Mr. Gubbins, " so we go on, adding 
 story to story ; but it is time thee madest the collar, 
 and that poor Robin w as on his way." The collar w as 
 then made in an instant, and fastened upon my neck ; 
 and now, to my unspeakable joy, and amid the good 
 words and wishes of the whole party, I was released 
 from the detested net, and suffered to fly at large. 
 This done, it was not long before I had shrouded 
 myself, for the night, in the most retired part of the 
 garden of Burford Cottage. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 To trust again, and be a2;ain deceived ! 
 
 ANoN. 
 
 I GAVE my reader to understand, for his sympathetic 
 satisfaction, even before closino^ the final page of my 
 late chapter, that I reached Burford Cottage safely and 
 expeditiously, after once escaping from the net of Mr. 
 Gubbins, and from Cobbler Dykes's storehouse of the 
 works of art and nature. There can be no doubt, but 
 that Mr. Gubbins's experiment (so very disagreeable 
 to me, who was the subject of it!) was little better than 
 trivial; for how could he suppose any other than that 
 I must know my way for six miles round my nesf^? 
 Cunning Mr. Gubbins ! He did not know how often 
 I had accompanied even his own solitary rambles for 
 parts of that distance ; or met or overtook him within 
 that circuit from his home, springing from twenty 
 yards to twenty yards along the hedge-rows, and stop- 
 ping when he stopped, and turning back when he 
 turned back; though all without his giving that par- 
 ticular attention to me, which I was bestowing upon 
 him 1 Cunning Mr. Gubbins I He did not, and he does 
 not know, that if men, and women, and children watch 
 and note the ways, and looks, and figures, and colours 
 of Robins; so, Robins also watch and note the ways, 
 
 * A similar experiment, however, and one which is upon record, 
 was lately tried in reality, and in the instance of a Red-breast; and 
 three miles was all the space, on that occasion, interposed. 
 
 D 3 
 
58 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and looks, and figures, and colours of men, and 
 women, and children, their faces and their clothes ; and 
 observe new coats, and hats, and shawls, and bonnets ; 
 and are pleased and displeased with new ribands, and 
 new fashions ! If Robins, alive or stuffed, are objects 
 of curiosity, and sometimes of wonder and amazement, 
 and I will add, of love and admiration, and of pity 
 and compassion, to humanity; why should not hu- 
 manity, as well, be sometimes the same object of 
 curiosity, amazement, wonder, pity, love, or admira- 
 tion, to us inquisitive, sensitive, tender-hearted Robins ; 
 for are not all the universe united in the same bonds 
 of sympathy, and in the same watchfulness of one 
 another's wants, or forms, or ways? Besides, we often 
 have to roam in search of food ; and sometimes in 
 search after our straying- young ones. 
 
 But, though I enjoyed, in this manner, a general 
 knowledge of the country round, yet I had never ac- 
 tually visited Cobbler Dykes's village before the even- 
 ing in question ; and it behoved me, therefore, at my 
 first flying from the fingers of Mr. Gubbins, to look 
 about, and see which way I was to go. I alighted, 
 therefore, very speedily, upon the top of the opposite 
 palings, as well for this special purpose, as to dress 
 my wings and tail, and to recover myself a little from 
 the nervousness attendant upon my late situation and 
 confinement, of w hich freedom and the open air now 
 made me even more duly sensible. As I perceived, 
 how ever, at the next instant, that all my late acquaint- 
 ance were in full gape at my doings; as there were 
 but a few yards between us ; and as I could not very 
 well be sure of what the curiosity of my kind admirers 
 might next put it into their heads to do upon my 
 account; I made a second spring, and did not stop 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. u9 
 
 till I reached the weathercock at the top of the gable- 
 end of a barn, where I prepared myself for further 
 flight with greater safety, and possessed a view for no 
 small part of my way. The place and colours of the 
 light of heaven showed me the road I was to take, and 
 warned me of the lateness of the hour; besides which, 
 I felt the dew descending, and the cold increasing. 
 The gale behind me brought with it other odours than 
 those which belonged to home, and which, even for 
 this reason, I knew to be on the opposite side. It 
 blew oft' a wood of beech-trees, and was scented, too, 
 with the pine, and came dry and sharp over the sum- 
 mits of the hills; while to my native and daily air 
 belonged, in greater proportion, the breezes soft and 
 moist from the streams and meadows, and the breath 
 of willows, birches, ash-trees, and of rich grass and 
 shining daisies*. Informed and fixed upon my road ; 
 repractised in the employment of my wings ; my fea- 
 thers dressed and nerves restored ; I soon after accom- 
 plished, at a succession of short flights, the first three 
 miles of my journey; and now I distinctly saw before 
 me the heads of well-known trees, the spire of the 
 village church, the smoke of the village mansion; 
 and even beheld beneath mv feet the ding-les in 
 which I often fed, and the waters which I often sip- 
 ped and splashed. Looking behind me, I saw, upon 
 the brow of a distant eminence, Mr. Gubbins, striding 
 homeward with all his might ; and I should have 
 laughed, if nature had taught me to laugh as well 
 as to sing, at the laborious speed, and panting exer- 
 tion, with which he was plainly endeavouring, be- 
 fore the evening-star should glitter upward to the ze- 
 nith, to reach his wished-for home, and make amends 
 
 * Daj's-ejes? 
 
^0 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 for the loss of time incurred throug-h bis ingenious 
 curiosity ! Elated at my own superior springiness, my 
 shorter road, and freer yielding element, I scarcely 
 saw him, I confess, before I once more rose into the 
 air; and, tilting as I went, very soon was I beneath the 
 yew-tree, and its berries, in the village churchyard ; 
 after which, a few short and jocund trips lodged me 
 in safety behind the richly-flowered laurustinuses in 
 Mr. Paulett's garden. The cat was prowling round 
 it when I arrived, but I swept softly and silently into 
 the large fir above, without her seeing me, or hearing 
 the least rustle ; though her uplifted nose and whiskers 
 betrayed and confirmed her suspicions of the taint 
 of prey, diffused in the still evening atmosphere*. 
 I slept soundly till the morning. Mr. Gubbins, as I 
 afterwards collected from his stories to his friends, did 
 not reach home till an hour after me. 
 
 When morning, however, came, I found that it was 
 not exactly true, as promised me by Mr. Gubbins, the 
 day before, that all my troubles should end with the 
 sunshine of that day. I had taken, hitherto, no more 
 than small account of my collar. I admit, that from 
 the moment of my freedom, I had made frequent and 
 desultory attempts to remove it by means of my feet, 
 (for I could not reach it with my bill) ; but I had found 
 
 * The cat kind have smellers, as well as feelers, in their whiskers ; 
 that is, the nerves of smell are elongated from the nose into the whis- 
 kers, and to their extremities. It follows from this, that they can 
 discover their prey aloft, and through the medium of the air; while, 
 in the contrast, the dog has no scent but for the ground, upon which, 
 as is the common understanding, the sce7if must lie, or he is thrown out 
 of the chase. If the fox, therefore, by leaping, or by taking the water, 
 breaks the line of tainted earth, he thus eludes the dog; while the 
 ifU, destined, especially in the case of birds, to seek its prey where 
 it may never touch the ground, has movable smellers, with which to 
 pursue, as it were, and delect it in the air. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 61 
 
 it o;ive way; and I was at first too anxious for my 
 home, and afterward too heavy for sleep, to think much 
 on an encumbrance which I yet thoug-ht recjuired only 
 a serious effort to be at once dislodged. Unfortunate 
 that I was 1 When morning came, and with it all the 
 momino^s strength and vigour, and keenness of ap- 
 prehension, no effort that I could make released me 
 from my collar ! I was without experience in leatheiTi 
 collars, and without instruments to deal with them. 
 Their infliction and stubbornness, like those of brick 
 traps, and of some other of the works of human art, 
 were calamities against which Nature has given to 
 Robin-red-breasts no natural defence nor remedy. The 
 burden of the collar was not great, but it totally inter- 
 fered with all arrangements of my toilet for the due 
 appearance of my neck ; and, as to itself, how was it 
 possible for me to show myself abroad, in so hideous, 
 and it must be added, so humiliating a disguise? How 
 could I account for it to my fellow birds!' Was I to 
 tell the adventure of the trap!* Had I acquired it by 
 misbehaviour^ Was it like the fool's-cap of the school- 
 children? Had it been put upon me when I was nap- 
 ping ; or, worse, when I was gluttonously feeding, anri 
 therefore inattentive ! Had Richard or Emily stolen 
 behind me, and slipped it upon me unaw^ares; thereby 
 demonstrating, that though it might be dithcult for 
 mice to bell the cat, young children might collar a 
 Robin ! So disgraceful a suspicion exceeded endurance. 
 " Ho-ho ! ha-ha ! hu-hu ! he-he I hi-hi !" would a whole 
 flock of Robins, and sparrows, and finches, and tom- 
 tits exclaim; and repeat, and echo with a thousand 
 voices : " so, Robin has let Emily slip a collar round 
 his neck; and to-morrow she will catch him, by put- 
 ting salt upon his tail !" A scene like this, it was 
 
62 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 impossible to meet, even if it were to be no more than 
 thus merry, and if I had nothing to dread from it but 
 ridicule ! But ridicule is the first shade of hatred, of 
 anger, and of violence ; and who could tell but the 
 disgusted birds might march from jest to pecks and 
 blows, striking their bills and claws, first, indeed, at 
 my collar, but soon after into my neck and eyes, my 
 muscles and my heart ! I was afraid therefore, as much 
 as I was ashamed. And, then, for Burford Cottage — 
 for the recesses of its shrubbery — for the enclosure of 
 its lawn — for the microcosm of its flower-beds ! Could 
 I be seen in either ; or, trusting myself into their pre- 
 cincts, and even warbling behind a pine-cone, or be- 
 hind the velvet of a dahlia-flower, could I escape the 
 danger of being seen ? I had set my heart upon 
 flying and warbling at Burford Cottage in the morn- 
 ing ; but I had reckoned without my collar ! This 
 would have been my joy, my consolation, my reward ; 
 nay, more, my triumph ! But was T to appear as a 
 thrall instead of conqueror, and as a collared bonds- 
 man and a serf? Was I to show myself estranged, in 
 a new guise, and as the menial of another ; or was I to 
 encourage, at Burford Cottage, by the contagion of 
 such a display, the belief that it was possible for its 
 inmates to make a menial of me themselves ? Every 
 particle of these thoughts was inadmissible; and the 
 troubles of my foul captivity, so far from having 
 reached their end, were still bowing me to the ground ; 
 for they condemned me to solitude, to seclusion, 
 stillness, silence, terror, shame, and sorrow ; to a 
 hiding-place, a nook, a corner; to dumbness, self- 
 denial, hungering, and thirsting; and all this in the 
 midst of the wide skies and the open fields, and with 
 an outspread table, and with running water, and with 
 
ITS ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 63 
 
 Stout feet and bill, and with unfettered win2:s ! Oh, 
 Mr. Gubbins, Mr. Gubbins ; and oh, Cobbler Dykes, 
 and thy atrocious leathern collar I 
 
 But mark the end ; mark the sorrows consequent 
 upon the collar, and the ministry of those sorrows 
 for its removal ; mark the new temptations which it 
 broug-ht upon me; the new griefs through which it led 
 me: griefs, however, which were my deliverers, when 
 no deliverance could reach me but through them 1 
 Such is so often the tissue of worldly events, and to 
 such chequered fate must Robins submit^ as well as 
 men ! "We must grow happy through our tears, and 
 reach the temple of our wishes through the briers 
 and the sloughs of our despair ! 
 
 I had pined, I had trembled, I had grown fiiint ; I 
 had hungered, I had thirsted, — hour after hour. I had 
 refused the early worm, and the whole morning's meal ; 
 but it was now the approach of noon, and I bethought 
 me, that at this season, when all my feathered fellow 
 creatures were at rest, and not thronging the highways 
 of heaven, I might slip, haply unobserved, from my 
 quarters in Mr. Paulett's garden, to those in Mr. Gub- 
 bins's, where, overcoming my natural antipathy to the 
 scene of the brick trap, armed by experience against a 
 repetition of the same ill, and possibly even aided by 
 some kind device of Mary Gubbins or her mother, or 
 even of the curious lord of the place, to shorten my 
 absence, or to indemnify its cares ; I might yet, ob- 
 scurely, secretly, and without noise or ostentation, 
 find a sufficient dinner, a retreat of safety, and an 
 afternoon's repose ! I flew, then, timidly and cauti- 
 ously, passing from bough to bough, and from tree 
 to tree, beneath the covert of the shade, across the 
 brook, and into the sunny paddock ; over the horns of 
 
64 BURFOR!) COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the COWS, by the ears of the old horse, once more into 
 the shade, away through the orchard, adown by the 
 parson's glebe, up by the prospect hill, along by the 
 wheelwright's paling; and, then, with a bold and 
 lengthened spring, once more among the elder-trees 
 in Mr. Gubbins's own garden ! It was Elysium for me 
 to be there, considering all that I had left behind 1 
 
 The time of the day was passed when I might have 
 hoped-for worms or beetles. They, too, like the birds 
 that hunt them, were at their noontide rest, and safe 
 from hungry stragglers ; but I had been beneath the 
 elder-trees only a short time, when glancing my eager 
 eye upon each side, I saw the very thing which I had 
 hoped for, and which indulged all my wishes! The 
 experience of delusion in this garden of Calypso was 
 strong in my recollection. I was no prisoner for 
 brick traps ! Smart devices of sticks and cheese-parings 
 had had their day for Robin ! But still, the probabi- 
 lity of some peace-oflfering from Mr. Gubbins, or of 
 some wave-offering from his daughter, was so proba- 
 ble, and would, just now, be so acceptable! What, 
 then, had I the rapture to behold? Enough and to 
 spare, of bread and cheese, all set out for me; and 
 where was this new and undeceitful feast laid out? 
 Not in the dark hollow of an ugly trap of bricks, nor 
 beneath the overhanging weight, and closing barrier, 
 of any dreadful, slanting, ticklishly supported brick 
 cover ! No ; all was fair, and in the light ! Just beside 
 the adjoining pathway, and amid the spreading leaves 
 and flowers of the blue and glossy periwinkle, stood an 
 upright wire cage, the only use of which, in this trans- 
 action, appeared to me to be that of raising to view, as 
 upon a platform, the crumbs of bread and cheese 
 which were strewn upon its top ; not, indeed, upon the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED- BREAST. 65 
 
 very top of all, and exposed to every comer and com- 
 mon pilferer, but still within an attic, open-windowed, 
 and of open wire, uitbout disg-uise as well : — the sniig- 
 ge:^t chamber, as it seemed to me, that ever was de- 
 vised for a hungry stranger to enjoy a meal "in ; alone, 
 abundant, not to be lessened by untimely droppings-in 
 of any other hungry guest ! 
 
 I could not be too thankful for this prepared repast; 
 nor, except that I dedicated a few moments to looking 
 carefully upon every side, so that none saw me, and 
 none had any chance of cheating me, I could not be 
 too Cjuick in laying hold of the good before me. I 
 sunk down, in my soft manner, from the elder-branches; 
 but with as much rapidity as if I had seen a grub or 
 beetle just emerging from beneath a pebble, or from 
 out of the mould : I dived into the wire-wove attic ; I 
 seized the nearest cheese-paring ; — a wire trap-door 
 snapped down upon me, as quick and noisy as a pistol- 
 lock ; I rushed against the wires before me, to escape 
 immediately from the ill-limed cause of alarm ; — but, 
 alas 1 alas I alas I I was a second time a prisoner, and 
 a second time the prisoner of ^Ir. Gubbins I 
 
 My fright, my disappointment, my rage, my fury, 
 my hopelessness, my mortification ; all this were long- 
 to tell ; but the issue was short, and the secret soon 
 explained I I had sulked, and fretted, and fasted in the 
 midst of plenty, in a corner of my new trap, (for a new 
 and differently formed trap it was, that, after all, I had 
 ignorantly entered,) only a quarter of an hour, before 
 I saw Mr. Gubbins advancing, at once to relieve, and 
 as I apprehended, more permanently to hold me; nor 
 before he took me from his cage-trap, caressed me in 
 his bosom, assured me that this was my final trouble 
 at his hands; told me lliat he had schemed to catch 
 
66 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 me this second time only to complete his experiment ; 
 only to be assured of my return ; and that he would 
 take off my collar, and set me free in the woods and 
 gardens, as soon as he had once shown me dressed in 
 it to his wife and daughter, and to Farmer Mowbray 
 and his family, in proof of the same experiment, and 
 as a means of ensuring the belief, that he knew me to 
 be the same Robin which he had before caught in his 
 garden; w^hich he had carried to Cobbler Dykes's; 
 which Cobbler Dykes was to come to see again that 
 afternoon ; and which he had now caught and identi- 
 fied once more in his garden ! All this he said to me, 
 or rather to himself, and only in make-believe to me; 
 for I hardly fancy that he thought I understood him, 
 or that I had any other chance of finding out the 
 meaning of his behaviour to me, than by waiting the 
 event ! I received consolation, however, and as will 
 be supposed, from what he said; understanding his 
 words, and trusting and believing in his explanations.. 
 He had hitherto seemed to keep his faith ; he had re- 
 leased me once, after catching me ; and I persuaded 
 myself therefore, and by no means, as will appear, in 
 vain, that he would this second time do the whole 
 that he talked of and professed. 
 
 In the short interval, nevertheless, between the 
 closing of the trap, and the arrival of Mr. Gubbins, 
 my misfortune had not failed to bring around me the 
 kind attentions of some fellow Robins. My cries, at the 
 first moment of my capture, were heard in the surround- 
 ing gardens and thickets ; and even my hapless figure 
 seen through the wiry bars of the tra]3 upon the top 
 of the decoy-cage, (for the horrid engine was nothing- 
 short of a decoy-cage !) had fixed the eyes of my friendly 
 and compassionate semblances, as they flitted over 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 67 
 
 head. The decoy-cage, for its proper ends and appli- 
 cation, consisted in two chambers or compartments, 
 the one above, and the other below, but all transpa- 
 rent, and seemingly but one, through the construction 
 ot" its deceitful wires ! The compartment underneath 
 was a perfect and ordinary cage, in which, accord- 
 ing to the plan of the demon who, doubtless, was 
 the inventor, a bird inured to thraldom should he 
 ]:)laced ; while upon its top, but separated by a floor of 
 wires, was the second and smaller chamber, and which 
 had nothing in common with the cell below, except its 
 wooden posts and transoms, and its iron gratings ! 
 This attic cell was of low ceiling, without a perch, 
 without a trough, without a water-lead or glass; with- 
 out, as I have implied or said, a wooden board or 
 floor, the one as absent as the other ; and even with- 
 out a door — a proper honest house-door — conspicuous 
 by its side, adapted to fair dealing, whether of freedom 
 or confinement ! But no ! to this detested garret there 
 belonged no door except (oh fitting name !) a trap-door 
 — a door first-cousin to a sky-light, — and, in the in- 
 stance of the wire-door of the decoy-cage, not darker or 
 less transparent than its relation ! Now the whole of 
 the treacherous fabric is intended to be seen through 
 — it was not seen through, however, by me; and thus, 
 when a free bird, travelling or disporting in the 
 
 " empty, vast, and wandering air," 
 
 beholds a brother or a sister, really in the lower den 
 or cellar, but which he thinks to be the entire mansion ; 
 he alights, converses, sees good fare, tries the wires, 
 finds the open garret-door; and designing but to pass 
 a social minute, and take a friendly bite and sup, he 
 enters; the trap falls, or snaps-to, like a gun-lock or a 
 
^>8 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 mouse-trap; and the fond strang-er finds himself at 
 once precluded from retreat ; as far as ever from his 
 friend, and plate, and glass ; and pent between an iron 
 floor and an iron ceiling, so near to each other that it 
 is much if he can hold his head up between them, till 
 the traitorous fowler comes to remove him from the 
 trap to the dark dungeon, not a decoy-cage, scarcely 
 loftier, and not so large as the vile trap itself! 
 
 Thus, then, was I circumstanced; — not, as I had 
 yet to thank my stars, not the decoyer, but the de- 
 coyed ; — for, however hapless, I had yet one happi- 
 ness, and it was no small one, that I was guiltless, 
 innocent; — the injured only, not the injurer! But 
 thus, then, was I circumstanced. There was no decoy- 
 bird underneath. The proper cage was empty of a 
 tenant, though furnished with a dinner; and it was 
 I that filled the trap, with its foul door closed down, 
 as impermeable to feathered visitor, as the closed 
 hatches of a ship to water in a gale! But my cries 
 ascended through the bars ; they reached the thickets 
 and the gardens; and hence, though the secluded 
 Robins that sat in them might have seemed few or 
 none to any searcher but the sorrowful, I had soon 
 about me one, two, or three; and, soonest of the three, 
 my mother ! The pitying strangers, like my mother 
 herself, did all they could to help me; but what was 
 it they could do? I did not seem to be in want of 
 food (nor did my stomach, as the reader knows, want 
 it any more than it could have it), or they would have 
 brought it to me in their endearing bills ! I could not 
 fly away with them ; that they saw, and mourned 
 over me therefor ! It was not through a broken wing, 
 or through a wound, or through weakness; or they 
 would have joined their strength to carry me ! But 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 69 
 
 I was a sufferer through unnatural means, and such 
 as they had no art to overcome ! They could g-ive 
 me, then, but their condolences, and those were not 
 withheld ; but (condolences bestowed, and sympathy 
 expressed, and kindly hopes imparted, and second 
 visits promised) the pitying strangers, one by one, 
 fled, and left me; not indeed alone, but to the sole 
 solace of my mother ! 
 
 She, poor bird, after trying, like the rest, to set me free, 
 found nothing within her power, but to share, as far as 
 v> ires allowed, my prison and detention ; and these 
 she seemed resolved to share with perseverance. Upon 
 a neighbouring spray, she, from her own coming, to 
 that of Mr. Gubbins, sat, like the sister of Moses, or 
 like the mother of the five kings whom Joshua hung 
 upon five trees ; she, an anxious or a weeping watcher, 
 sat, and returned and returned my sighs, till the 
 sounding path, and shaken branches, announced a 
 human footstep. At that moment, it is true, she 
 vanished to the next tree ; for what remained, even to 
 her, at this new shock, amidst all her timidity and 
 helplessness? She, small guardian, had no power, 
 like eagle, or like pelican, or even like dove or hen 
 against a hawk, to make battle for her young one I 
 She was a reed in the blast, and must bend I The way 
 of the weak (and by turns we all are weak) is to shrink 
 before the weapon, and to escape only as they fly, or 
 as they are spared. Mr. Gubbins came, and still my 
 mother watched ; he carried me toward the house, and 
 my mother hid her^5elf in the thicket ; she took with 
 her grief and fear, and found nothing to help her, 
 except hope I 
 
70 BUUFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. VIL 
 
 The heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 
 Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 
 To love and friendship both ; that is not pleased 
 
 "With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 
 Nor feels their happiness augment its own ! 
 
 COW PER. 
 
 Mr. Gubbins, so long as the success of his experiment 
 was uncertain, had been very careful to conceal from 
 his wife and daughter; from his neighbours (with the 
 exception of his necessary confidence in Farmer Mow- 
 bray, and in his confederate, Cobbler Dykes) ; from 
 the boys in his school-room, and even from Sukey in 
 the kitchen, the gentle pranks which he was playing 
 with my poor self! But, now that every thing had 
 gone to his wish, and all (as I rejoiced most sincerely 
 to hear him say) was over, except the single remaining 
 act of setting me at liberty; now, he was too happy 
 in the reward of his labours ; too proud of the issue to 
 which he had brought them ; and too bold in the con- 
 sciousness that he could justify his proceedings, not 
 to spring with the glee and lightness of a child of five 
 years old, bearing me conspicuous in his hand, from 
 the trap to the little shed under which all the females 
 were at the moment busy in making elder-berry wine ! 
 Quick, however, as were all his motions, and ready 
 as he felt his tongue to give an account, to the utmost 
 advantage, of all his motives, and even performances ; 
 swifter still were the acts and words of reproof which 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. Tl 
 
 he instantaneously drew clown upon himself, in tlie 
 unhesitating anticipation that he had cerlainly done 
 me wrong. It is beautiful to observe among man- 
 kind, those wayward creatures who need so many 
 governors and monitors to keep them in any thin^^ 
 like a course of justice, especially toward their in- 
 feriors (Robin-red-breasts and others); it is beautiful 
 10 observe among mankind, the operation of that 
 instinct which they possess, to denounce, with the 
 rapidity of heaven's own lightning, and with the loud- 
 ness of heaven's own thunder, whatever they see, or 
 think that they see, amiss, in the conduct of their fel- 
 lows ; so, that every man, to every man, is a judge 
 and an executioner, and an echo of the rules and sen- 
 tences of universal order I True it is that this instinct, 
 like other instincts, often operates blindly ; whence it 
 happens that very innocent actions, and very innocent 
 persons, fall daily under its scourge, through the mis- 
 takes of these same judges and executioners, who, 
 with whatever honesty, yet often with rashness, and 
 oftener still with ignorance, imagine both of them to 
 be guilty. But, instead of staying to explain how this 
 admirable and amiable human instinct is sometimes 
 made a means of evil, while it is more generally a 
 means of good, I shall only give the example, as 
 afforded in my particular case ; where Mr. Gubbins, 
 for the time, was doomed to meet all that visitation 
 of reproof, not from his wife only, but from his daugh- 
 ter, and from his serving-maid, of which he had lived 
 in terror from the first moment that he even thought 
 of intermeddling with me; which was the genuine 
 outcry of offended nature, bursting from the members 
 of his household ; and of which his dread before it 
 came, and his passing consternation when it arrived, 
 
72 BLRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 shows how happily dependent are all these g^iants 
 upon the good opinion of their fellovv-o^iants ; and how 
 this instinct of theirs serves to punish crimes when 
 committed, and to prevent more than it is ever called 
 upon to punish ! No sooner had Mr. Gubbins, in 
 showing^ my little head from the hollow between his 
 bended thumb and his fore-finger, unguardedly let it 
 be known that he had caught me in a trap, and had set 
 a trap to catch me ; than, one after another, or all at 
 the same time, these were the exclamations wliich his 
 pained and terrified ears were made to receive into 
 their cells : 
 
 " Oh, Ephraim Gubbins," cried his wife, " how 
 could you ! — " 
 
 " Oh, father," cried JNIary Gubbins, ** how could 
 you !— " 
 
 " Oh, master," cried Sukey, the serving-maid, " how 
 could you !" 
 
 And much had Mr. Gubbins to exert himself, with 
 all his eloquence and his explanations, before he was 
 able to pacify, even in some small degree, the heaving 
 bosoms, either of his wife, his daughter, or his serving- 
 maid, as to the hard case in which he had involved 
 poor little Robin-red-breast ! Said I not that this beau- 
 tiful human instinct is the voice of. nature itself, the 
 guide of the human race, and the protector of the 
 feeble and the innocent? Alas ! how could that extra- 
 ordinary species, so strong and so self-willed, contrive 
 to live for themselves, or to be bearable to others, 
 without its aid ? What is it that they would not do, 
 if, besides other fears, they feared not the reproof of 
 others, nor valued their good opinion? 
 
 It was now that Mr. Gubbins explained, in words 
 that it consoled and delighted me to hear, and that 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 73 
 
 again more than half recovered for him all my previ- 
 ous good opinion, the whole mystery of his behaviour 
 to me, and especially of my second entrapment, and 
 of the odious leathern collar upon my neck. It was 
 necessary, he said, to his proof that I could find my 
 way home, that he should catch me again, in order to 
 be able to show me, not only to his family, but to his ' 
 brother philosopher, ^Mr. Dykes; and, as jVIr. Dykes 
 was an acute sort of person, and not likely to be 
 satisfied with any evidence short of the best, or to 
 consider any point established, while, as he was accus- 
 tomed to say (hanging up his lasts at the same mo- 
 ment), there remained " a peg to hang a doubt upon ;'* 
 so, it had been necessary to make him put, with his 
 own hands, a collar of his own workmanship, round 
 the neck of the little bird, which, not at all by its own 
 consent, had been made one of the three parties to 
 " this great C[uestioning of nature (such were Mr. Gub- 
 bins's lofty words), as to the sagacity of some of the 
 humblest of her animated creatures." I was glad (or 
 upon principles of generosity, I ought to have been 
 glad) that when, forsooth! my deep inquirer bent his 
 thoughts upon some of the "humblest" of animated 
 creatures, he imposed the suflfering upon me, rather 
 than upon an unfortunate ant, or slug, or worm, which 
 might have shown him sagacity, in its degree, as truly 
 as a Robin ; and I was glad, beyond all question, 
 that the secret of my terrible collar was now explained, 
 and so explained as to promise me a speedy disengage- 
 ment. "Ah!" said I to myself, ''so it is then, that 
 out of what I thought the accumulation of misfortune, 
 is to come my joy ? I could by no means get rid of 
 my collar by my own art; but this second entrap- 
 ment is the means by which my destiny has come to 
 
 E 
 
74 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 my relief!" My collar, even in the decoy-cag-e, had 
 continued to be the bitterest of my misfortunes; and 
 when my compassionate fellow-Robins, and even when 
 my mother, came to condole and to moan with me, I 
 kept myself shrunk and huddled together with a two- 
 fold contraction, lest they, or even she, should observe 
 that degradation which added misery even to the nar- 
 row limits of my trap ! The feelings of shame, and of 
 apprehended ridicule and contempt, with which I wore 
 that badge of my bodily thraldom, have already been 
 explained; and the reader sees the broad distinction 
 which must have belonged, in the eye of my dear fellow- 
 birds, and even parent, between the being merely shut 
 up in a trap, and dishonoured by a collar. The trap 
 spoke for me, and told all my story. Any bird, of my 
 size, might have been caught in a trap ; but as to how I 
 came by a collar, — as to that, it was possible to indulge 
 in a hundred surmises, and to put on it such con- 
 structions as were more than sufficient to ruin, as I 
 have before suggested, my good name, for a bird of 
 common sense, or common spirit. Oh ! the collar was 
 detestable. " Dread shame" has always been the 
 motto of my family, as well as of some other people's ; 
 so, that I had been wretched ever since I wore it, and 
 now became transported when I heard that it was 
 very soon to be taken off! 
 
 I was impatient — fearfully impatient for the time ; 
 and I confess that I had my anxieties, whether there 
 were not too much probability that I was to undergo 
 another march to our cobbler's stall and dead mena- 
 gerie, before the happy event should come upon me ! 
 I soon found, however, to my rapture, that an appoint- 
 ment had been made between the two naturalists, in 
 virtue of which Mr. Dykes was to bring home some 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. lO 
 
 mended shoes, and take his tea with the wearers, upon 
 that very afternoon ; Mr. Gubbins having securely- 
 reckoned, it seems, from my unsuspecting- simplicity, 
 that I should be caught quite in time for an exhibition 
 at a four o'clock tea-table ! My breast blushes redder 
 than ever, to think that every thing should have hap- 
 pened to his calculation; and yet, at last, where is 
 the shame of having fallen into the snare of the fowler ; 
 and of having been lost, not through any moral fault, 
 but only because I had not greater wisdom than falls 
 to the lot of Robin-red-breasts, or sometimes to the for- 
 tune of their betters? 
 
 Cobbler Dykes, indeed, was very shortly at the open 
 door of INIr. Gubbins's mansion; and scarcely sooner 
 at the open door, than across the threshold, and wel- 
 comed to a chair. There were one or two things, 
 however, which outstripped, in their haste, almost the 
 welcoming, but certainly the seating, of the honest 
 and insrenious cobbler (dressed though he was in his 
 best, to visit his distant customers, and to sit by the 
 side of Madam Gubbins and her daughter); and these 
 foremost things, and things which could not wait, 
 were no other than to proclaim to the visitor the 
 actual arrival of myself, and to show me, all collared 
 as I was, to eyes that could not be deceived as to the 
 identity of the collar: and that were able to know- 
 again (so observant and familiar with us birds was 
 ^Ir. Dykes) the very feathers on my neck, and on my 
 wing, and the hairs around my mandibles, and the 
 leno^th and colour of my claws. All, therefore, was 
 now acknowledged by ]Mr. Dykes, his " spectacles on 
 nose," as fair, convincing, and conclusive. Mr. Gub- 
 bins was congratulated, and the latter looked in 
 triumph at his wife and daughter; and called even 
 
 E 2 
 
^6 BTJRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 upon Sukey to bear witness, as well to the marvel o^f 
 the event, as to the truth of all that he had previously 
 related ! For my part, I thought the whole affair was 
 now so thoroughly complete, that my liberty must be 
 instant; and that the Prospero who held me bound, 
 would now, like his predecessor in the play, sink his 
 wand in the sea (that is, take the collar off my neck), 
 and leave me, another Ariel, to fly away, and to sing 
 my song ; which, even though spring-time was yet to 
 •come, I had determined should be — 
 
 " Merril V, cheerily shall I live now, 
 
 Under the blossom that hangs on the bough !" 
 
 But still another scene, or more than one, as soon 
 appeared, was to be enacted, — not, indeed, in the tra- 
 gedy, but in the very serious comedy — of my most 
 anxious captivity, — before its absolute conclusion. Tea 
 was not yet entirely ready ; and though Mrs, Gubbins 
 and her daughter kindly and considerately urged upon 
 the necromancers their duty to dismiss me before the 
 sun-down and my bedtime; yet, upon the other 
 side, it was insisted that every possible advantage 
 should be taken of the rare event, during- the short 
 interval only, that, as all agreed, it was still to last. 
 Mr. Gubbins's scholars were still upon their forms ; 
 and the worthy man (for he was worthy, and if he 
 had a fault, it was only in being too curious about 
 Robin-red-breasts!) was, as I have described him, both 
 a schoolmaster and a philosopher; and was fond, in 
 his humble way, and in the humble way of his scholars 
 and neighbours, of joining nature with books, and 
 things with words, for the better instruction of his 
 hearers; besides, his adventure with the Robin was 
 now as sure of school and village flime as he could be 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 77 
 
 •willing, or even wish ; and he was desirous of an 
 honourable report, in the school-room and in the vil- 
 lage, as in his parlour and his kitchen, as well of the 
 philosophy and innocence of his motives, as of the 
 success and skill of his experiment. Taking, therefore, 
 Cobbler Dykes, as his full voucher, by the arm (and 
 who, at the same time, could make inquiry, as to whose 
 shoes wanted capping for holes worn at marbles, or 
 seams new sewing, through rotting, and through splash- 
 ing, in the kennels and the brooks), he proceeded first 
 to the school-room ; and there, casting off from him- 
 self all cruelty of purpose, and all deficiency of vene- 
 ration for the Jove-protected Robin-red-breast ; he bade 
 the charmed and eager scholars view the extraordinary 
 Robin, returned (for that was his comparison) like a 
 long absent and far-sought voyager from the Arctic 
 Regions, and from the Magnetic Poles, to gladden his 
 native and his sympathizing country, and to perch 
 upon his accustomed poplar-tree 1 Sorry am I to add, 
 that among the imps to whom this excellent discourse 
 was addressed, it was not one or two alone, that I 
 heard whispering to each other, " I wish it was mine 1 I 
 could put it into such a nice cage, if I had it at home ;'^ 
 and similar expressions, all inconsistent with the bodily 
 freedom, and truly with the lives, of the whole race of 
 Robin-red-breasts ! I say no more, however, upon that 
 subject; except that, in the first place, it was a cau- 
 tion to me, to think always of traps, and decoy-cashes, 
 and leather collars ; and in the next, that I am willing 
 to hope the good words of ^Ir. Gubbins wrought a 
 change in the sentiments of my young beholders, 
 though I did not stay long enough to hear them 
 say so I 
 
 But the second, and really penultimate adventure. 
 
78 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 was to show me to Farmer Mowbray, and to all the 
 family at the farm-house. Mr. Gubbins, besides that 
 he had a little vanity upon the subject, even there, 
 thought it a compliment due to the friendly farmer, to 
 inform him of the result of all the contrivance; and to 
 verify his words by his testimonies, in return for his 
 loan of the granary, and for his cooperation and 
 secrecy. Mrs. Gubbins longed to see me upon the 
 wing; but she could not dispute her husband's argu- 
 ments for my visit to the Mowbrays ; and moreover, 
 the kettle did not boil, so that it was impossible to 
 deny, that with due expedition, the visit might still be 
 made and finished before the tea could by any means 
 be ready. Besides, the Mowbrays were customers of 
 Cobbler Dykes; and who knew but both mending 
 and making might be wanting, before the tearful 
 voyage of the former to Van Diemen's Land ; an occa- 
 sion, too, which, at any rate, demanded Dykes's affec- 
 tionate farewell? Upon the whole, then, Mrs. Gubbins 
 showed submission, and her daughter resignation ; 
 but the former charged, and the latter prayed, my 
 possessor to bring me back, before releasing me, to the 
 offending roof which had seen me a prisoner; so that 
 their own eyes might be assured of my deliverance, 
 and that the benediction belonging to the deed should 
 not be lost upon the rafters, nor fail to purify the spot 
 that had been tainted by the sin ! I could see, too, that 
 as we left the door (Mr. Gubbins, Cobbler Dykes, and 
 my poor self), the wistful looks and palpitating heart 
 of Sukey went along with us, half fearful that there 
 might still be a deception or a disaster; or half grudging 
 that another instant should find me still in bondasfe ! 
 
 Away we moved, then, to Farmer Mowbray's ; and, 
 there, as before, all my story was repeated, and all ray 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 79 
 
 figure (with the frightful collar, too) exposed to every 
 gaze; to the farmer's; to his wife's; to their six chil- 
 dren's ; and to three or four neighbours, sitting or 
 standing in the kitchen, and who had come, like the 
 comforters of Job, but in a more comfortable spirit, to 
 show their regard for the departing family. Here, 
 though Mr. Gubbins's reasons were admitted to his 
 excuse, all the party pitied me for the troubles I had 
 undergone; and all seemed to be happy that I was 
 about to be made happy too. Even to the smallest of 
 the tanned-necked and white-headed children I was 
 held down, to be wondered at, and to be kissed; and a 
 lesson, in my behalf, and in that of my fellows, was 
 duteously held forth ; but, fortunately, Mr. Dykes early 
 recollected that " Mistress" would be waiting tea, 
 besides being impatient for my release ; so that (Mr. 
 Dykes and Mr. Gubbins having first learned, with sin- 
 cere gratification, that the voyage of the Mowbrays 
 was not so near, nor even so certain, as had been pur- 
 posed, and the latter having been requested to return 
 for orders), most joyfully did I find our march begun 
 for Mr. Gubbins's fireside! 
 
 Brought once more within the hospitable verge, it 
 was but a short time before my collar was cut away, 
 and I was set actually at liberty ; but while the scis- 
 sors were looking for, and while a cup of tea was 
 taking, a few words escaped to my ears, such as flat- 
 tered me afresh upon the score of my discovered 
 importance in the volume of nature ; and such, there- 
 fore, as I trust the reader will pardon me for having 
 the selfishness to add to this chapter of my book. 
 
 " And happy shall I be," said the good and tender- 
 hearted woman, when the dear little bird is on his 
 wings again ! I knew that there was something wrong 
 
80 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 about the house, but I could not tell what ; and little 
 did I think that Ephraim had been the man to cause 
 it. Mr. Dykes, as I am a living woman (and I donH 
 care whom thee tells it to), and as our Mary, and as 
 Sukey, are witnesses of the truth of what I say ; on 
 Tuesday night, when, as I now find, poor Bobby was 
 in the cage, in the dark loft, at the top of the house ; 
 here, at this very table, I thought I heard our best 
 blue and white china punchbowl crack, while it stood 
 quietly upon the projecting shelf in the beaufet (and 
 nobody near it); and, just at the same time, too, all 
 my gilt-edged coffee-cups jingle upon their hooks, 
 along the shelf in front of the punch-bowl ! And Sukey 
 and Mary know (though, poor things, they did not 
 hear the crack, nor the jingling, not they), that I jumped 
 up in a moment (as who would not in my place?) and 
 went to the beaufet ; and there were the coffee-cups as 
 still as mice, and the punch-bowlwithout a crack in it, 
 and just as sound as when my dear old grandmother 
 gave it to me, forty years ago, when I was married to 
 my Ephraim !" 
 
 " Ah ! Bridget,'^ cried Mr. Gubbins, " thee wilt live 
 and die by those old notions that thee learnedst of thy 
 dear grandmother, when thee used to sit by her knee, 
 as I have often seen thee, and as I think I see thee 
 now ; and thee and I small chits together ! But, Mas- 
 ter Dykes, thee knowest, or thee oughtest to know 
 (a man well-learned like thee), what is the meaning of 
 all these fancies, which it is the fashion to call old 
 women's fancies; and all which, by the way, more or 
 less of them, are still alive throughout society, old and 
 young, and in the cottage and the palace too !" 
 
 " Why, as to that, Mr. Gubbins,'' replied Cobbler 
 Dykes, " thee answerest rather too boldly for me ; for. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 81 
 
 d'ye see, though I be a bit of an ornithologist, and can 
 fit a shoe and hammer a sole with any man, yet I 
 don't pretend that I know every thing, as thee dost. 
 Thee hast had books for many a day, while I have 
 been waxing my thread; and though I can think 
 while I wax, and sometimes sing a song ; yet, ye see, 
 I can't read at such a time ; and so my learning 
 has been neglected, and I don't know how I should 
 understand what I believe there are plenty of lords, 
 and dukes, and judges, and generals, know as little 
 about as myself, and are sometimes as ready to believe, 
 as any of your old women '." 
 
 " I'll tell thee, then, :\Iaster Dykes," resumed Mr. 
 Gubbins ; '' and first let me remark, that while there 
 are many to make mention of these things only to 
 laugh at them, or to cause a laugh to be raised at 
 them; it is my mind to mention them chiefly to 
 explain them." 
 
 " Go on, friend Gubbins, go on," cried Cobbler 
 Dykes ; " there is no man to do it better !" 
 
 '" Aye," interrupted Mrs. Gubbins, " but he will be 
 a cunning man indeed, if he can persuade me that I 
 did not hear the punch-bowl crack when it did not 
 crack; or that it did not sound as if it cracked, because 
 he had caught a Robin-red-breast in a trap, and put it 
 into a cage, and kept it from its mate, all alone in our 
 cockloft 1" 
 
 "Good Bridget," pursued Mr. Gubbins, "be patient 
 with thy husband ; and be satisfied when I tell thee 
 that I think thy heart is right, even though thy learn- 
 ing should be wrong I Master Dykes," he added 
 (applying himself to the task he had undertaken), 
 " thee know'st that all these notions are ancient, very 
 ancient ; and I can tell thee that they had, and still 
 
 E 3 
 
82 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 have a meaning-, and a fine one. They are abuses of 
 fine principles, but still the principles are fine. Master 
 Dykes, the fathers of mankind were no fools, any more 
 than are their sons ; though, like their sons also, those 
 fathers had their errors ! Well ; the fathers have 
 thought one way, and the sons have thought another ; 
 for thinking, or, as it is called, learning, has its vicissi- 
 tudes, from age to age, and from year to year, like fond 
 hopes, and like noble houses. Now the sons have a 
 principle (and there must be a single and governing 
 principle at the bottom of every system of thinking or 
 of learning) ; a principle in which they agree with old 
 Democritus and Epicurus, and others, of making the 
 world out of particles or atoms, all separable, and all 
 separated from each other ; and, from this, they go on to 
 separate, not only particles from particles, but things 
 from things, and, as I am afraid, man from man ! But, 
 mark me (for here comes the story of the Robin and 
 the punch-bowl), the fathers had another principle — a 
 principle of union. They believed all things a conti- 
 nuity, and therefore a connexion. They supposed a 
 aympathy among all things ; a sympathij of each thing 
 for all other things ! Now, dostn't thee see, Master 
 Dykes, that here was the sympathy between Dame^s 
 punchbowl and coffee-cups, and the Robin-red-breast ! 
 The Robin-red-breast was ill used, or the rule of right 
 was broken as to the Robin-red-breast; and so the 
 coffee-cups and punch-bowl were uneasy, and more- 
 over, would have had no objection to set Dame a hunt- 
 ing about the house, till she had found the Robin-red- 
 breast, and had set him at liberty ! Thee wilt say that 
 this is nonsense, and so it is ; but it is no more than 
 the abuse of a principle as reasonable as it is noble ; 
 and that touches the heart, even while it is rejected by 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 83 
 
 the head ! Is it not a grand thing to suppose one joined 
 and sympathizing universe, alive, through all its parts. 
 to all the joys and all the sorrows of every thing com- 
 posing it ?" 
 
 "Aye, sure/' cried Cobbler Dykes, half melted, and 
 half awed at w hat he was hearing ; " and a man might 
 be excused, mayhap, if he shed tears at only thinking 
 of it I" — As for me, I was amazed to find that Mr. Gub- 
 bins's punch-bowl and coffee-cup could have been 
 generous enough to sympathise in my misfortunes ; 
 but, after all, what was it but stretching a little further 
 that sympathy which I, for my own part, had actually 
 found in so many human, and in so many feathered 
 fellow-creatures; and which, as they tell, so many 
 human creatures feel for others, or for the thought of 
 others, whom they have never seen, and who, perhaps, 
 never had existence? 'What's Hecuba to him, or he to 
 Hecuba,' says the play; and what was I to the coffee- 
 cups and punch-bowl "^ There is the whole case ! 
 
 "And observe thee, too," continued Mr. Gubbins, 
 " that this is the explanation of a thousand prodigies, 
 and a thousand Avarnings, and similar imaginations, 
 sometimes in the house, and sometimes in the fields; 
 such as crackings of furniture, music in the air, and 
 endless things of the same sort. All are built upon 
 the abuse of the noble principle of a supposed sym- 
 pathy in all things for each other, and the devotion 
 of that sympathy to all their interests; and in morals, 
 to the interests of justice and of mercy. It is upon this 
 ground, that the poet, echoing the philosopher, or 
 echoing the people, has represented to us, that 
 
 " Murder, though it hath no tongnCj 
 
 Can vet speak with most miraculoas organ ;" 
 
 and that, for its discovery, 
 
 " Trees have been knowu to speak, and slones to move." 
 
84 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " There is some beauty, then, and some value, 
 Master Gubbins, even in the errors depending upon 
 your principle," rejoined Cobbler Dykes? 
 
 " There is, there is, friend Dykes," answered 
 Mr. Gubbins ; " and, even with all the deformity, and 
 with all the mischief which likewise belong to it, 
 mankind will never part with it at heart, whatever 
 may be the outside learning- of the day !" 
 
 " Thank thee, thank thee," cried Cobbler Dykes ; 
 " and only two questions more. Since thee drawest 
 the fancies of our country-people (asking pardon of 
 Madam Gubbins) out of the very learning of the ancient 
 schools, how dost thee account for their having ob- 
 tained them from such a source ; and also why is it, 
 as thee thinkest, that they hold their ground among 
 low and high, even to this day, and will do still, in 
 spite of the efforts of modern learning to overthrow 
 them ?" 
 
 " I believe," said Mr. Gubbins, " that contrary to 
 common opinion, the direct diffusion of the learning of 
 the age, whatever it was, was very wide in ancient times. 
 I believe that the indirect diffusion was wider still; 
 and that, by one means or the other, it descended 
 and spread abroad, so as to reach all individuals, and 
 was by them transmitted to their children. I believe, 
 too, that, error and truth together, it was the more 
 easily spread, and now keeps its hold, because its great 
 or primary principle is true, and is therefore congenial 
 with human apprehensions. And it was a blessed foun- 
 tain for men to drink at, however sometimes muddy ' 
 It united all men, rich and poor, and small and great, 
 and servant and lord, and lord and servant. With the 
 natural principle, that all things were in natural 
 union, went the moral principle, that all things were 
 in moral union, or held together in one bond of sym- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 85 
 
 pathy and love. Your atomical philosophy, — your 
 doctrine of atoms, separable and separated — not less 
 in tendency than in principle, is the opposite of every 
 thing of this kind, either natural, moral, or intellec- 
 tual*. 
 
 " As to the rest," concluded Mr. Gubbins, " we 
 must not attempt to hide, that the errors which are 
 the corruptions from the principle are enormous, and 
 many more than we have adverted to. The principle 
 itself is one of the parents of superstition, at the same 
 time as of all just thinking ; the latter being its use, the 
 former its abuse. But, be the whole of this as it may, so 
 it has happened, that (such is the case of our Robin and 
 our punch-bowl, and its similitudes) thoughts which, 
 not without reason, were once treasured beneath the 
 cloaks of philosophers, and passed for the sublimest of 
 thoughts in the Academy, and under the Portico f ; are 
 now passed to no cloaks at all (or at least are pretended 
 so to be), except the red-cloaks of a village !'^ 
 
 * It is well known that the doctrine of the sympathies was iu 
 high vogue over all Europe not more than two centuries ago ; and, in 
 England, under the special auspices of Sir Kenelm Digbv. But the 
 physical or metaphysical root and rationale of the doctrine, and its 
 moral influences and inferences, have seldom, perhaps, attracted 
 much attention. 
 
 t In Greece, a cloak was the distinguishing garb of a philosopher. 
 
86 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
 
 Is full of blessings. WORDSWORTH. 
 
 I SHALL not talk to my indulgent reader of the inward 
 joy, the rapture, or the ecstasy, with which, at length, 
 I found myself absolutely free; and hardly of the 
 transports and tender welcome with winch my return 
 into the thickets and plantations was greeted by my 
 mother, and my mate, and my companions ! Suffice 
 it to say, that upon my first flying from Mr. Gub- 
 bins's door, almost in doubt but that I should strike 
 my wings against the insides of the wires of another 
 decoy-cage, I perched upon the thick twig of an adja- 
 cent horse-chestnut-tree, just behind one of its few 
 remaining fans, presented by its large, but brown and 
 shrivelHng leaves. Here, I shook and pruned my 
 feathers, heated, soiled, and disarranged as they were, 
 by all the handling which I had suffered ; and scratched 
 my head, and cleaned my bill, the latter against the 
 smooth and silky bark of my supporting twig. This 
 done, I felt myself refreshed, and had perceived, by 
 this time, that I was really free; so, that now, I had 
 spirits to take a new and longer flight, crossing again 
 the road, or village street, and embowering myself 
 in the opposite gardens. But, arrived within those 
 happier precincts, I was still without the courage 
 to mix myself at once with my fellows ; or even to 
 expose myself at ease to the immediate chance of 
 view. I sat, for the space of a few minutes, in the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 87 
 
 shelter of a mountain-ash, motionless and silent, "think- 
 ing of nothing," and deadened in my feelings. At 
 length, hunched at my shoulders, and moving only my 
 mouth, I ventured upon a meek exercise of my voice; 
 hoping that my watchful mother, or my mate, would 
 catch the sound of even so faint a cry, and thus arrive to 
 witness my restoration, and to rejoin the broken links 
 which should hold me to my species. But I listened, 
 received no answer, became dumb once more, and sat 
 dejected and inactive. Again, however, I called, and, 
 this time, a little louder than before, and yet again re- 
 ceived no answer. At this, I grew disappointed, fretful, 
 and impatient; but my irritation was of service to me. 
 It roused me to bolder efforts, and to a determination to 
 be heard. I cried again. I said, " Mother, I am here ; 
 I am free ; those who molested me have let me go I" 
 Xo answer. " Mother, mother !" I screamed out ; 
 " mother and mate, mate and mother, I am here ! I 
 am here!" — "Where, where?" returned, at last, the 
 honeyed voice of my mother ! " Here, here !" I replied ; 
 and " Where, where?" was again her cjuestion. "In 
 this mountain-ash !" was my reply ; but while I yet 
 answered, I had already spread my wings, and was 
 flying in the direction of her voice ; and she, too, had 
 been impelled by her ears, even while she cried out 
 " Where, w here ;" so, that we met mid-way in the 
 air, and alighted together against the almost upright 
 branches of an eringo-bush, where, at the same instant 
 came my mate, flying and crying, the more strongly 
 both, the nearer she approached us; and now too, our 
 neighbour Red-breasts, discovering the event, came 
 also, w^ith quick songs of pleasure. Oh ! you should have 
 heard the mingled and strangely-shifting music of the 
 quire; how expressive, how intelligent, how fond, how 
 
88 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 plainly descriptive of the story ! There was no need 
 of words, for sounds said every thing ! Sounds asked 
 questions ; sounds returned replies ; sounds poured 
 out pity ; sounds were full of thanks ; sounds ex- 
 pressed all emotions ; — sorrow, commiseration, joy, and 
 love ! Articulation was unwanted ; variety of tone 
 and accent, this did all. The bushes rang with our 
 clamour! We Red-breasts, as we have little relish for 
 the society of any other species of bird than our own, 
 so likewise we are not, in general, very sociable among 
 ourselves ; but a great occasion, like that which I am 
 now describing, might well lead, as it did lead, to some 
 brief departure from our solitary habits! 
 
 The sun, however, was, by this time, descending 
 low ; and our suppers were not only to be eaten, but 
 even to be found. We hunted, therefore, and fed, 
 separately or altogether, as food offered itself to our 
 bills. I, for my part, fed, but soon grew sleepy ; and 
 I slept. 
 
 With the first dawn of the morning, I was again 
 awake and hungry ; but I was one of nature's com- 
 moners by birth, and might make prize of any thing 
 that suited me. Worms and insects were stirring, like 
 myself; so, that I gave chase as the game rose, and 
 was soon breakfasted. Nothing remained but to pick up 
 the dainties that might afterward fall in my way, and 
 to visit my friends, and the pretty garden, at Burford 
 Cottage ; from both of which, through adverse fortune, 
 I had now been absent for two whole days. This morn- 
 ing, at the cottage breakfast-hour, I promised myself a 
 renewal of the pleasures which I derived from them, 
 and from which I trusted never more to be rent 
 asunder ! 
 
 Sometimes springing, therefore, and sometimes 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 89 
 
 gliding, from bush to bush, and from tree to tree, I 
 found myself, almost as soon as I pleased, in front of 
 the friendly windows; but where every thing was yet 
 in stillness within doors, and where I amused myself, 
 for some time, quietly and alone, without. 
 
 The morning was bright and warm, and the earth 
 continued heated by the effect of the summer rays, 
 though the sun, for an ample month past, had been 
 sped southward down the ecliptic. The dahlias or geor- 
 gias*, the asters and the holyoaks f continued in 
 luxuriant and gorgeous bloom ; there were the soft 
 pink flowers of the tobacco-plant, and the heliotropes, 
 with their large and small " patines of bright gold," 
 still illuminating and blushing in the borders; and 
 the air was still sweet with jasmin and clematis; the 
 stocks kept their lasting spikes of blossom, and the 
 well-pruned China-roses seemed resolved even that the 
 winter should look as smiling and as beauteous as the 
 spring. With these temptations, too, the windows of 
 the cottage were still as open to the floor, and to the 
 velvet carpet of the grass-plot, as in the most beaming 
 and most flowery of the mornings of July. Thus I 
 saw and heard every thing in the parlour, as soon as 
 its guests appeared, but was myself silent under the 
 ibliage ; and if I sunk upon the mould, or rose again 
 among the branches, I moved so gently that nothing 
 was struck nor shaken, and that no bending or reco- 
 vering spray, nor no falling nor rustling leaf, told that 
 I was moving, or had moved. 
 
 I confess that I preserved this cpietude and silence 
 
 * It is known that these flowers are variously called dahlias, from 
 Dahl, a German horticulturalist ; and georyias, from Georgia, in 
 North America, their native country. 
 
 t Vulgo, hollyhocks. 
 
90 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 a good deal in the secret hope, that at least in the 
 course of the family-breakfast that was to begin, my 
 ears would be soothed, and my heart warmed, by over- 
 hearing some expression of regret, or at the lowest, 
 some manifestation of surprise, that, for two whole 
 mornings, and two whole evenings, I had neither been 
 heard nor seen; a vanity (if it was one) which I 
 defend from the same argument that, though upon a 
 different occasion, I have already held, as to the value 
 which, happily, and for the benefit of all creatures, all 
 creatures place upon the love, attachment, and good 
 opinion of all other creatures ! 
 
 Nor was I long before I received the tribute that I 
 wished for: "The Robin is not come this morning, 
 mamma," said Richard, " any more than yesterday ; 
 and I am sadly afraid that it was I who frightened 
 him away !" 
 
 " I hope not, my clear,'^ answered Mrs. Paulett, 
 "for we are all of us pleased when he comes to us; 
 as, indeed, every body is ; for the Red-breast is a gene- 
 ral favourite. But it was early in the season for us 
 to hear him, as we did on Tuesday last; so, that we 
 are hardly to expect him now, or at least to expect 
 him every day, and must wait till the weather grows 
 colder. You know that the Robin is a very shy bird 
 at all other times ; and, upon the whole, I am in hopes 
 that he does not keep away because you frightened 
 him/' 
 
 "Mamma!" said Emily, "is every body as fond of 
 Robin as we are?" 
 
 " I really fancy so, my Emily," returned Mrs. Pau- 
 lett; "and though this particular bird has some peculiar 
 claims upon ourselves, which we will consider another 
 time, yet, in general, the love of nature, and of all 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 91 
 
 natural things, is one of those happy ties and meet- 
 ing-places that bring all the world together; gentle' 
 and simple, young and old ; the great, the grave, the 
 humble, and the gay. It is recorded, for example, of 
 Sir Thomas ^lore, once Lord High Chancellor of Eng- 
 land, the zealous advocate of Grecian learning, at a 
 time when that great light of the human intellect was 
 the scorn and detestation of the then barbarians of the 
 English universities; and finally. Sir Thomas More, 
 the martyr to undaunted principle, civil and religious, 
 under the outrageous tyranny, and through the per- 
 sonal wickedness, of his original admirer, Henry the 
 Eighth ; Sir Thomas More added to his love of all the 
 works of art, an unbounded love and curiosity as to all 
 the works of nature. Besides his fondness for all our 
 native species in the animal creation, to which he 
 added the culture of astronomy, and of the natural 
 sciences in general ; if any new or curious foreign 
 beast or bird was brought to London, he was sure to 
 go to see it, and often to purchase it, adding it to his 
 collection at Chelsea; where, besides books and music, 
 and sculpture and painting, he had numerous speci- 
 mens in natural history, living and dead, in which he 
 and his family took delight, and which he exhibited 
 to his friends — Henry himself, at one period, not ex- 
 cepted. I have not read, indeed, that Sir Thomas 
 More was particularly remarked for his love of Robin- 
 red-breasts ; but I have no doubt, that, at least, he did 
 not neglect such pretty birds as those, amid his regard 
 for the whole natural kingdom !" 
 
 '' But, mamma," interrupted Richard, " you said, 
 the other day, that you would let us read, in a book 
 which you would show us, the fondness of a very 
 grave and zealous preacher, who died but lately. 
 
92 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 for the Robins, and for all sorts of little birds. Here 
 'is the book ; now, will you help us to find where it is 
 that the Robins are mentioned in it, and let us read 
 what is said about them ?" 
 
 With both of Richard's requests Mrs. Paulett imme- 
 diately complied ; and the consequence was, that I 
 had the very agreeable satisfaction to hear, not only 
 how much the worthy gentleman in question used to 
 prize us Robins; but, also, what pains he used to take 
 to please birds of my feather, and to see them when 
 they were pleased ; and especially to tickle their 
 palates with the article of cheese. The passage which 
 Richard read was contained in a letter to the gentle- 
 man's grandson (part of which letter I had formerly 
 heard read, and have already made allusion to), and ran 
 in such words as these : — " You must know, Adam, that 
 I am very fond of these nice little birds ; and often take 
 crumbs of bread and scatter them under the windows, 
 that they may come and pick them up; and once I 
 put a stick in the ground before the parlour-window, 
 with a cross-stick on the top of it, just like your letter 
 T, that you have been learning in your ABC, and 
 often would I lift the window, and cry, ' Bobby, Bob- 
 by ;' and the sweet Red-breast, so soon as he could 
 hear my voice, would fly near the window, and sit on 
 the cross-stick; then, I left the crumbs and bits of 
 cheese, of which they are very fond, upon the ledge of 
 the window ; and when I had shut down the sash, then 
 Bobby would come, and eat them all up." 
 
 " There is another part of that letter, my dear 
 Richard," said Mr. Paulett, " which I should like you 
 to read; because in it you will find the writer of the 
 same opinion as myself, concerning the value of song- 
 birds, and of beautiful birds, among other sources of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 93 
 
 t4ie pleasures of human life. I may take this oppor- 
 tunity of qualifying a remark \vhich I lately made, as 
 to the comparative absence, at least, of song-birds in 
 uncultivated countries. In the northern wilds of North 
 America, where the fur-bearing animals are hunted, 
 and where three hundred and twenty species of birds, 
 resident and migratory together, have been already 
 counted ; and even in other wild divisions of that con- 
 tinent ; the melody of the song-birds is said to be pro- 
 fuse and exquisite. — But, now, pray read to us what 
 follows the words, ' I will give some of them to you, 
 Adam, because I love you ;' " - — and Richard read 
 accordingly : 
 
 " Xow, my dear Adam, I much like these litde 
 birds. Is it because they have very beautiful feathers, 
 and beaks, and legs; or because they sing so de- 
 lightfully, run so fast, and fly so swifdy?* All this, 
 indeed, I love ; but I love them most because it was 
 the same good God who made them, that made myself; 
 and he who feeds me, feeds them also, and takes care 
 of them : and he made them beautiful, that you and I, 
 and all people, might be pleased with their fine fea- 
 thers, and sweet singing. Xow, a man who has a 
 great deal of money, may go to places where people 
 sing for money, or [may] have music in the house, 
 such as your dear Cecilia plays; but there are a great 
 many poor people in the world, who have scarcely 
 money enough to buy bread when they are hungry, or 
 clothes to keep them warm in the cold weather. Now, 
 my dear, these cannot hire people to sing, nor can 
 they have music in the house, like your mamma, yet 
 they love music ; so, would it not be a pity that they 
 should not have some also ?* See, then, why the good 
 God, who made you, formed so many fine birds, with 
 
94 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 such sweet voices, to sing the sweetest songs ! These 
 are the poor man's music ; they sing to him for nothing. 
 They do not even ask a crumb of bread of the poor 
 man; and, when he is going to work in the morning, 
 they sing to encourage him ; and when he is returning 
 home in the evening, very weary, because he has w orked 
 very hard, then they sing again, that he may be pleased, 
 and not grieve nor fret. Now, is not God very good, 
 for making these pretty little musicians, to encourage 
 and comfort the poor labouring man * ?" — Here Richard 
 finished his reading. 
 
 " We will next have something of the same sort in 
 verse," said Mr. Paulett ; " for verse is usually more 
 impressive, — more careful, and more sprightly in the 
 expression, and more captivating to the ear — than prose ; 
 and the poets have uttered, at least, as many truths as 
 prose-writers, and with an energy and beauty peculiar 
 to themselves. Repeat, Emily, those pretty lines 
 which you learned, yesterday, out of Thomas War- 
 ton^s Ode, 'The Hamlet;' where there is the same idea, 
 as to the enjoyment of song-birds by the labouring 
 poor, but in union with that of their pleasures from 
 other luxuries of nature ; particularly the odours of 
 the flowers and herbage." — Emily did as her papa 
 bade her, and therefore repeated the following lines : 
 
 " When morning's twilight-tinctured beam 
 Strikes their low thateh with slanting gleam. 
 They move abroad, in ether blue, 
 To dip the sithe in fragrant dew ; 
 The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, 
 That nodding shades a craggy dell. 
 
 " 'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear. 
 Wild nature's sweetest notes they hear : 
 
 * Life of Adam Clarke, LL. D. F. S. A. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 95 
 
 On green untrodden banks they view 
 The hyacinth's neglected hue* : 
 In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, 
 They spy the squirrel's airy bounds ; 
 And startle from her ashen spray, 
 Across the glen, the screaming jay : 
 Each native charm their steps explore, 
 Of solitude's sequestered store. 
 
 For then the moon, with cloudless ray. 
 Mounts, to illume their homeward way : 
 Their weary spirits to relieve, 
 The meadows incense breathe at eve !" 
 
 " And now/' said Mr. Paulett, '' the plain English 
 of all this is, that these sources of pleasure are as 
 accessible, and at least as valuable, to the poor as 
 to the rich. They are the inheritance universal of 
 mankind. ISIilton gives them to Adam and Eve in 
 Paradise : 
 
 " Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet. 
 With song of earliest birds ;" 
 
 and how much he could enjoy them himself, appears 
 by his placing them first on his list o^ mirthful 
 
 " unreproved pleasures free ;" 
 
 as well as in the vivacity with which he describes 
 them, and among others, the singing of the lark 
 before the rising of the sun : 
 
 " To hear the lark begin his flight, 
 And, singing, startle the dull night. 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 Till the dapple dawn doth rise ; 
 
 * The wild hyacinths of our English woods and hedge-rows, com- 
 monlv called blue-bells. 
 
96 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Then lo come, in spite of sorrow, 
 And at my window bid good morrow, 
 Through the sweetbriar and the vine, 
 Or the twisted eglantine!" 
 
 " But it seems to me/' said the voice of a gentleman 
 whom I had not before heard or seen at Biirford Cot- 
 tage, and whom I soon found to be a visitor ; " it 
 seems to me, that though all this, about birds, and 
 flowers, and the labouring poor, sounds very well in 
 poetry, it is little better than romance: I am afraid 
 that the poor care very little about these kinds of 
 enjoyments. Their tastes are too uncultivated, and 
 their pleasures not so refined ; and I should imagine 
 that you, my dear Paulett, thoroughly agree wdth me 
 upon this point, considering what I know of some of 
 your opinions?" 
 
 " My dear friend Hartley," returned Mr. Paulett, 
 " you have been in foreign countries, and in many 
 foreign adventures, for some time ; and, after the 
 observation you have now made, I would willingly 
 believe, that you have rather forgotten what experience 
 must certainly once have taught you, concerning the 
 character and inclinations of the labouring poor, con- 
 sidered as a body, and not under the view which merely 
 partial instances might seem to justify. Give me leave 
 to express my opinions for myself; of which it is one, 
 that there are all sorts of people among the poor, not 
 less than among the rich ; and that it would be just as 
 wrong, in any way, to judge the poor by wholesale as 
 the rich. No doubt, there are coarse and vicious per- 
 sons among the poor, not less than among the rich ; 
 and certainly, where, either from the denials or the 
 cares of poverty, or from any other cause, there is 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 97 
 
 an extreme of present suffering, or where, upon any 
 other account, there is no contented or tolerably easy 
 mind; there, we have little reason to expect a relish 
 for the simple pleasures of nature. But it is with the 
 poor, as it is with the rich, — 
 
 ' When the mind's well, the body's delicate,' 
 
 and open to all delicate perceptions. I feel and express 
 myself, in the mean time, warmly upon this point of 
 controversy with you, because we live in an unhappy 
 age, when a swarm of fierce and narrow-minded per- 
 sons are employed in exciting the small and poor 
 to contempt and hatred of the great and rich, and, by 
 necessary consequence, tempting the rich and great 
 to contempt and hatred of the poor; and because this 
 sort of estimate of the character of the poor, tends to 
 assist that separation of man from man which is threat- 
 ened by all the list of modern notions. May T trust, 
 however, that assisted by their education, their loftier 
 views across the depths and surface of society, the hap- 
 pier station which they enjoy, and the milder feelings 
 which that should cherish ; the rich, and the superior 
 in accidental condition, whatever the provocation given 
 them, will continue the consideration, tenderness, re- 
 spect, and sympathy for the poor, which, through 
 every past age of English history, have formed the 
 predominating character of wealth and rank among 
 us; and which, if late and unsuspicious witnesses and 
 observers are to be relied on, is not, even yet, declin- 
 ing, be the bitterness, in some quarters existing, as 
 bitter as it may 1 — You refer, my friend Hartley, to 
 some of my opinions ; but we have the testimony of a 
 critic of very opposite opinions to mine-^, that it is not, 
 
 * 3Ir. E. L. Bulwer, ia the New Monthly Magazine. 
 
 F 
 
98 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ibr example, the recent or living writers of my cast of 
 opinion (as South ey, Sir Walter Scott, and others), 
 the tendency of whose works is to encourage unkindly 
 or disrespectful feelings toward the poor ; but that this 
 is actually the tendency of the works of opposite 
 writers, as of the strange enthusiast, Bysche Shelley, 
 and so many others of his school. Again, we have the 
 well supported testimony of the pretended American 
 observer of our public men, whom I lately quoted, that 
 none of them are so eager, or none more so, to take 
 up the cause of the poor, to proclaim the misfortune 
 of their large number, or to lament their sufferings, 
 or to press for the discovery of national means of 
 relief, as well as to contribute individual, as those of 
 my own opinions; of which truth he cites the recent 
 instance, that it remained for one of our Bishops* to 
 be the first to deplore in Parliament, and in the face of 
 the country, that in the south-west of England, there 
 are paupers harnessed to carts, like cattle. But, now, 
 I will venture to finish my reply, by mentioning two 
 instances of the show of feeling, in matters of taste, in 
 the labouring poor, such as you avow yourself to think 
 improbable among persons of their condition. 
 
 " My first case," continued Mr. Paulett, " is that of 
 a Cumberland shepherd, with whom a tourist was 
 once conversing upon the spoliations of the flocks, 
 occasionally committed by the eagles in that moun- 
 tainous part of England : ' It is a pity,' cried the 
 tourist, ' that the eagles are not all destroyed !' * Why, 
 
 * Dr. Law, Lord Bishop of Bath and Wells. The evil, however, 
 is confined to the circumstance that these labourers are paupers ; 
 and that, consequently, their labour h forced, and different from that 
 which men willingly and usually undertake. In any other view, the 
 substitution of human labour for that of cattle, would only be to feed 
 and multiply men, instead of beasts. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 99 
 
 no,' answered the shepherd, ' I think not. To be sure, 
 they take a lamb or two sometimes ; but, then, they do 
 look so noble P 
 
 " ^ly other case," concluded Mr. Paulett, " is com- 
 prised in a very humble anecdote, which I give upon 
 my own authority, and which refers to classes of poor 
 of whom we still less frequently entertain any romantic 
 opinions, than of shepherds or other country-people. 
 I was walking, not long since, through one of the 
 suburbs on the western side of London, when two 
 young men, in company with each other, and going 
 my way, continued to precede me, for some little time, 
 by a distance of eight or ten paces. The younger 
 was a servant in livery, and the elder a journeyman 
 baker, with an empty basket, slung, by means of its 
 handle, upon his shoulder. They were talking toge- 
 ther at every step they went ; and what do you think 
 they were talking of^ It was of the comparative beauty 
 of the houses and gardens which they successively 
 passed ; of the taste of the architect, in the church 
 lately erected, and which followed next; and of the 
 choice of pleasantness, pretty gardens and handsome 
 houses, between the suburb in which they were, and 
 some of the other suburbs of London I Lords and 
 ladies, princes and princesses, then, could not have 
 talked more innocently, nor more upon subjects of an 
 agreeable virtu, than did this livery-servant and this 
 journeyman baker ; and so true it is, that 
 
 ' There's no such difference 'twixt man and man 
 As haughty wits suppose. . The beggar treads 
 Upon the monarch's heels*.' " 
 
 ** \yell !" said ]\Ir. Hartley, " I have no doubt but 
 
 * The Village Curate ; a poem, bv Bishop Hurdis. 
 
 F 2 
 
100 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 you are right ; and yet I hardly expected such senti- 
 ments from you.'' 
 
 '' My dear friend," returned Mr. Paulett, " you 
 labour under the ordinary mistake; but believe me, 
 that if we put out of sight a few fools (such as are 
 to be found of every condition and persuasion), there 
 are none who admit more freely or more practically 
 the natural equality of mankind, than those who ap- 
 prove and would maintain the artificial distinctions of 
 society !" 
 
 " And is it really true," interrupted Emily, " and 
 not something like fable, that eagles carry away lambs P 
 Are they large and strong enough, and how far do they 
 carry them?" 
 
 " They certainly carry away lambs," answered Mr. 
 Hartley, to Emily ; '' and such accidents have hap- 
 pened as their carrying away babies ; and it sometimes 
 also happens (generally, I suppose, through their being 
 fritjhtened) that they drop the things upon which they 
 seize; events which may even have contributed to the 
 dispersion of breeds of animals from one place and 
 another. There is, or lately was, upon the Isle of 
 Arran, close to the western coast of Ireland, a single 
 sheep, of a breed not cultivated upon the island, which 
 I have often seen feeding among the flocks of a dif- 
 ferent figure, in the grass which surrounds its ruined 
 religious edifices. That sheep has lived unmolested, 
 while hundreds of its temporary companions have sur- 
 rendered their lives, because the few inhabitants either 
 reverence, or at least respect, the peculiar circum- 
 stances of its introduction among them. While it was 
 yet a tender lamb, an eagle had pounced upon it with 
 his talons, as it fed upon the border of the adjacent 
 coast, from which the island is separated by no more 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 101 
 
 than a very narrow arm of the sea. Being in posses- 
 sion of his prey, he flew with it to the island, in some 
 part of which he had probably his nest. Either bti- 
 cause the flight was long, or the lamb heavy, he flew 
 slower and nearer to the ground than usual ; so that 
 an islander, who saw him as he flew, and perceived 
 what plunder he was carrying, was able to strike him 
 with the stone which he lost no time in throwing: 
 and, upon this, the ea^le, more thoughtful of his 
 escape than of his supper, dropped the lamb upon the 
 foreign turf, and soared away. The lamb was in no 
 respect so hurt or injured by its seizure, flight, or 
 fall, but that it lived to crop the grass in the strange 
 country ; and the owner of the soil, and all the little 
 papulation of the Isle of Arran, moved by its narrow 
 escape, respecting the rites of hospitality, and be- 
 lieving, perhaps, that its arrival was a destiny, and 
 the token of some promised good to their small terri- 
 tory and community, would neither part with it nor 
 kill it ; but preserved it, as I have before told you, a 
 solitary stranger by birth and appearance, among the 
 small native flocks. It is, or it was, a sight for visitors, 
 and a story for the children, and a date for the later 
 history of their island ; to show how, and when, and 
 where, the fleecy strano;er came among them, borne 
 over an arm of the tempestuous Atlantic, and dropped 
 from the talons of an eagle I" 
 
 " Oh !" cried Emily, at this juncture, and disturbed 
 even from the anxious regard with which she had 
 been listening to the story of the Irish eagle and the 
 iamb ; " Oh ! I do think I see Robin-red-breast again, 
 under the leaves of his old tree ;" and in truth, I cer- 
 tainly had let mvself be seen, in the course of the 
 
102 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 joyous movements of my head and tail, to which I 
 was inspired by all the pleasant things which I had 
 heard about myself, and about Robins, and about 
 sin^inof-birds in g-eneral. I confess that the idea of 
 leaving eagles to take lambs at their pleasure had not 
 charmed me quite so much, because it made me think 
 of hawks and cats and Robin-red-breasts, all together; 
 nor had I so well understood what passed about servants 
 and bakers, and houses and church steeples ; but I had 
 hopped and picked the time away, trusting that I 
 should either see some crumbs, or hear of myself once 
 more; and so, as I have said, it happened ! 
 
 " Where, where?" cried Richard ; and Emily pointed 
 to the tree; but, now, I was no longer visible. 
 
 " Oh ! I hope you saw him," said Richard. " And 
 I hope so, too," said Mrs. Paulett. So, charmed with 
 the kind wishes of my friends, I sung one of my 
 blithest songs, at which every face smiled, and in 
 which I bade them, at once good-morrow, and farewell 
 for the day. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 103 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 He travels and expatiates : — as the bee 
 
 From flower to flower, so he from land to land I 
 
 The manners, customs, policy of all, 
 
 Pay tribate to the stores he gleans: 
 
 He seeks intelligence in every clime, 
 
 And spreads the honey of his deep research 
 
 At his return — a rich repast for me I 
 
 He travels, and I too. I tread his deck, 
 
 Ascend his topmast ; through his peering eyes. 
 
 Discover countries ! COWPER. 
 
 At my next day's visit to the cottage, I beard little 
 beside the voice of Mr. Hartley. That gentleman, as 
 I soon found, had for many years heen a voyager and 
 traveller, and the chief scene of his adventures had 
 been Central Africa, or that part of the African conti- 
 nent which is crossed by the Equinoctial or Equa- 
 torial Line, and is properly Xigritia or Xegroland. 
 and the region of the Quorra, or Quarra, or the river 
 X'iger : "To the north of this," said :\Ir. Hartley, " we 
 have the countries of Abyssinia, Egypt, Barbary, Mo- 
 rocco, and the rest ; and to the soutli, the Hottentots 
 and CafFres, and various nations which are not Xegro ; 
 and, again, the English colony of the Cape of Good 
 Hope. To the north also, we have Mohammedan popu- 
 lations, ordinarily versed in all those arts, and edu- 
 cated in all those habits, which are generally understood 
 by the term civilization, and resembling what is Euro- 
 pean ; and to the south, pastoral nations, such as the 
 
104 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Caffres and others ; and even a people living almost 
 wholly upon roots : I mean the Bosjesmanns, or Wild 
 Hottentots, so called by the Dutch or ancient colonists 
 of the Cape. To the south, too, we have the famous 
 Desert, or famous Deserts ; and Mount Atlas, the mighty 
 range, in whose aspect, from the Mediterranean, origi- 
 nates the fable of that Atlas which is said to support the 
 heavens ; and so many other grand and lovely fables 
 of the ancient Greeks, and of those to whom the ancient 
 Greeks are recent moderns. To the north, we have 
 Libya, Numidia, and Egypt and Abyssinia, and those 
 other African countries, illustrious in the antique world ; 
 and to the south, we have regions, unknown, at least 
 to modern Europe, till within three hundred years 
 past; and never yet the seats of civilization, unless 
 the civilization of the Dutch and English colonists.'' 
 
 " Central Africa,'' adcled Mr. Hartley, " remains what 
 almost the whole of Africa ever was, and still conti- 
 nues, — the ' terra incognita' — the unknown country of 
 the world ; and therefore, a country delivered over to 
 the mental caprice of European ignorance and fancy. 
 It is, indeed, a country abounding with novelties, as 
 well as with imputations of novelty ; and, in this 
 view, it still continues open to us to say, what used to 
 V)e said, in the later days of ancient Rome, ' What ! 
 always something new from Africa!' From Africa 
 we have the chimpanzee, or western oran-otang, the 
 nearest brute approach to the human figure, in com- 
 l)ined fabric and sagacity ; from Africa, the ostrich, or 
 camel-bird : the giraffe, or camel-leopard ; the zebra, 
 and the quagga, or qua-cha; the Gray and the White 
 Pelicans ; the latter the true Pelican of the Wilderness, 
 and the former (according to the account and engraved 
 figure of Mr. Lander) the bird which may have contri- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 105 
 
 buted to preserve for the Pelican of the \Yilderness the 
 reputation of wounding its breast to feed its youn;^ 
 with its blood (an extraordinary action, Master Richard, 
 of wdiich you have seen so many pictured and sculp- 
 tured representations*!); and, lastly, from Africa, we 
 have the hippopotamus, or river-horse ; and an African 
 horse (or at least the account of one) which, like the 
 ass, bears the mark of a cross upon its back and 
 shoulders. But the latest, and truly African (or mar- 
 vellous) discovery in that country, is that of a veg:e- 
 table-serpent, or animal-plant, which, says a French 
 traveller, creeps whither it will, and at once eats and 
 digests food, and bears flowers! 
 
 ''A plant in Africa!" exclaimed Richard, half in 
 raptures, and half in fear; " a plant in Africa, that eats, 
 and that goes about as it likes !" and then added, " Oh ! 
 how I should like to have one ! Is it tame? Would it 
 follow me like a dog? Oh ! how I should like to have 
 a plant that eats and creeps about!" 
 
 * According to Mr. Lander, " the Gray Pelican abounds on the mar- 
 gins of the rivers and streams in Houssa ;" and he proceeds to assure 
 us, that the female, in this species, does appear to feed her young 
 with what may at least be mistaken for blood, but drawn, not from 
 her breast, but from her back : " They build their nests," says he, 
 " close to the water's edge, near to which they always stand to feed 
 their voung. It is somewhat singular," he adds, " that the opinion 
 of the Pelican feeding its young with its blood, is as general in 
 Houssa as it is among the lower class of people in Europe ; and to 
 this belief I must acknowledge myself a proselyte. I have stood, for 
 a long while together, by the side of this stupid animal, watching its 
 motions, and seeing it bend its head, for its offspring to extract their 
 nourishment. The young ones thrust their beaks into a small round 
 aperture at the lower part of the back of the neck of their parent ; 
 and thev swallow the substance which flows freely through. If it he 
 not blood that issues from the old bird, it is a red liquid so closely 
 resembling it, that the difference cannot be perceived." — Landtrr's 
 Records of Captain Clappei tun's last Expedition, 6;c. <5'C. 
 
 f3 
 
106 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Stay a little, Richard, my good fellow," interposed 
 Mr. Hartley; " I am by no means sure that you will 
 ever see one ; it may be an idle story after all ; I am 
 almost sure that it will prove so ; I tell you, that 
 ' something new from Africa,' has been the cry, ever 
 since Africa was first known to the good people of 
 ancient Rome; and though many new and uncouth 
 things have confessedly come out of Africa, I am not 
 yet satisfied of the truth of this latest of its wonders — 
 the plant-snake, or vegetable-serpent \" 
 
 " The story can hardly be true," said Mr. Paulett? 
 
 ■' I dare say not," returned Mr. Hartley ; " I dare 
 to say that there is some exaggeration ; but Africa, 
 as I have remarked, has always been the place out 
 of which, even more than from all others, human 
 credulity has been tried. It is always the express 
 country of monsters, as well as of enchantments. It is 
 observable that even Homer places his Calypso, and 
 her swine, and every such monstrosity, upon the Afri- 
 can side of the Mediterranean ; and I think that it is 
 in that part of the map, too, that we should look for 
 Shakspeare's uninhabited island, and his Tempest; — 
 his rugged Caliban, his ' witch Sycorax,' and his * deli- 
 cate Ariel.' Egypt, upon the other hand, has Homer^s 
 uniform tribute of respect and admiration ; he paints 
 that country as the depository of arts and learning, and 
 as the beauty of civilization ; but, then, Egypt, in his 
 time, was reckoned part, not of Africa, but of Asia." 
 
 " But arts, learning, and civilization," said Mr. Pau- 
 lett, " have made but little way, as I have always 
 understood, into the heart of Africa?" 
 
 " Very little way indeed," said Mr. Hartley ; " and 
 especially upon this eastern coast. It is the east and 
 the south of Africa that are the least civilized. These 
 
irS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 107 
 
 countries are Pag^aii : while the north and the west are 
 those parts in which chiefly prevail, aloni^ with the 
 Mohammedan faith, Mohammedan arts and learning. 
 I do not mean, however, to insinuate that Moham- 
 medan Africa is always riper than AtVica Pagan, in 
 what we call civilization. Travellers report, that under 
 many aspects, the Pagan negro is a better man than 
 the Mohammedan neirro. Taking things in the oppo- 
 site view, however, there are many deformities in Pagan 
 Africa which have no existence in those parts which 
 are under Mohammedan law and influence." 
 
 " I imagine nothing but desolation — nothing but 
 horror," said :Mrs. Paulett, " throughout this eastern 
 coast of Africa; whence, even to this day, so many 
 Negro slaves are taken annually. I imagine only a 
 fiery sky, a burning soil, a leafless country; — a land, 
 as I have read, hissing with ten millions of serpents as 
 you approach it ; and inhabited by men, lawless, fero- 
 cious, bloody, naked, destitute, hideous,— more like 
 beasts than men I" 
 
 " Africa, as you well know, madam," returned 
 Mr. Hartley, " is a very large country ; and, even as 
 to this part of it, I assure you that you were never 
 more mistaken, than as to such notions of its state. 
 I will suppose," continued he, " that our ship is at 
 this moment approaching Badagry *, a little African 
 kino-dom, which I have not long since visited; and 
 where, by the hands of certain Portuguese residents 
 and sea-captains, there is, in fact, still carried on a 
 frightful commerce in slaves. Now, if we were so 
 
 * The word "badagry" signifies, "a woman." The tuwn or citvof 
 Bada^rv, of which the name is applied to the whole kingdom, is 
 literally " the city of the Woman;'' but who " the Woman" was or 
 is, is more than Europeans understand. 
 
108 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 approaching that country, to which there also belong 
 other horrors and enormities, what is it that we should 
 see? A beautiful line of coast, — of coast singularly 
 beautiful and attractive — bordering a transparent sea I 
 Trees in great number and variety, and of magnificent 
 dimensions, and luxuriant foliage, adorn the face of all 
 the country that presents itself; while the beauty of 
 African nature is sweetly heiohtened by the appear- 
 ance, at frequent intervals, of little peaceful villages, 
 enbosomed in the trees (among which remember always 
 the ])rominent and stately palm-trees), and reflected 
 along the water's edge. Where, too, as the trees afford 
 successive openings, the eye is charmed with the thick 
 tbrests that, at a little distance, are spread over the 
 landscape ; and of which the darksome shade con- 
 trasts itself with the smiling verdure of cultivated 
 plains, pleasantly studded with clumps of cocoa and 
 other trees, and enlivened by a glorious sunshine : the 
 whole displaying a rich and variegated picture of 
 genuine rural charms!" 
 
 " You surprise me, truly !" said Mrs. Paulett ; " can 
 this be Negroland ; can this be that terrible country, the 
 theatre of the African slave-trade, and the horror of the 
 human world ?" 
 
 " If, now,'* continued Mr. Hartley, " we were to take 
 to our boat, and make our way through the surf, to the 
 bright and pebbly beach, we should shortly afterward 
 (perhaps within half a mile) arrive at the mouth of 
 a small river, a solitary place, where, however, stands 
 a single hut, — a feteesh hut*, — or house of worship, 
 a square building, ornamented, in front, with a species 
 of shining stone, the product of the country. To 
 
 * lu French orthography, fetiche. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 109 
 
 this hut, or little temple, or house of worship, the 
 Pagan natives resort, to pray, or to give thanks, when 
 they are to venture upon the water, or when they have 
 landed in safety; and, here, bundles of wood, earthen- 
 ware, or other articles of pro})erty will be seen depo- 
 sited around, for temporary stay; because, neai' these 
 consecrated walls, and upon this consecrated ground, 
 they are believed to be under divine protection ; and 
 because (such is the reverence for the house and place) 
 scarcely ever is there heard-of an individual, profane, 
 as well as dishonest enough, to steal or do them damage, 
 whatever length of time they may remain. You will 
 forgive my remarking upon the kindred feelings, upon 
 those points, exhibited by mankind in many, and, 
 as it might be hoped, in most parts of Europe. In 
 the south of France, though there is much poverty, 
 and though many crimes of violence and other sorts 
 are committed, yet the silver balls, which are the cus- 
 tomary ornaments of the funeral monuments of the 
 rich, stand unmolested in the churchyards; and, in 
 parts, and perhaps the whole, of Roman Catholic Swit- 
 zerland, whatever other features may disfigure that 
 division of the Helvetic body, it is usual for such as 
 find any thing lost (money itself inclusive) to place it 
 upon the large crucifix which is seen in every church- 
 yard, and to leave it there to be owned ; and there is 
 no example in remembrance, of any thing thu^ placed 
 being taken away, except by the right owner !" 
 
 "I begin to be enchanted," said Mrs. Paulett, "with 
 the little kingdom of Badagry \" 
 
 " Aye, there it is," continued Mr. Hartley ; " we are 
 all of us in such haste to come to our conclusions ! 
 Well, let us pass this sacred edifice (for such is the 
 English of the term ' feteesh-hut'), and cross this little 
 
110 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 river, and keep along the beach ; and, now, an hour or 
 two will bring- us to the banks of the greater river, named, 
 by the Portuguese, Formosa, or the Beautiful ; a mile 
 in width, and upon the opposite side of which stands 
 the city, such as it is — the royal city — of Badagry. In 
 that city we shall find a daily market, tolerably sup- 
 plied with small and lean cattle, and sheep ; and with 
 goats, swine, poultry, maize, palm-wine, country cloth, 
 and other goods; as well as a multitude of houses, all 
 (except the king's) constructed of bamboo cane, and of 
 but one storey. The king, perhaps, as we are English- 
 men, will send us a present of a bullock, a fat pig, and 
 some fowls ; and, perhaps, he will condescend also, in 
 honour of our country, to make us a visit, in all the 
 pomp of his best, but yet small magniticence. In this 
 part of my description, I must forewarn you, that, 
 here, we are upon a spot frequented by Europeans, 
 and where certain sorts of European merchandise are 
 commonly carried ; so that, far more than in the inte- 
 rior, Badagry will display to you a worse than barba- 
 rous, because incongruous mixture of native and foreign 
 productions and things, such as are out of all harmony 
 with each other. We shall see the king (the name of the 
 present king is Ado'ly) come mounted upon a diminu- 
 tive black horse, and followed by about a hundred and 
 fifty of his subjects, dancing and capering before and 
 behind him ; wliile a number of musicians, performing 
 upon native instruments of the rudest description, 
 increase considerably the animation and vehemence 
 of gesture of these loyal attendants. He will be sump- 
 tuously arrayed, in a scarlet cloak, literally covered 
 with gold lace, and white kerseymere trowsers, simi- 
 larly embroidered. His hat (for he will appear hatted) 
 will be turned up in front with rich bands of gold lace, 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 1 I 1 
 
 and decorated with a splendid plume of ostrich fea- 
 thers, wavino: gracefully above. Close to his horse's 
 head will march two boys or pages, each carrying a 
 musket in his hand, and dressed in plain scarlet coats, 
 with white collars, and large cocked hats, tastefully 
 trimmed with gold lace; which costly material all 
 classes of Badagrians exceedingly admire. Two fight- 
 ing-chiefs will accompany the king on foot, familiarly 
 chattinof with him as he advances." 
 
 " You astonish us," cried Mrs. Paulett. 
 
 " Yes," pursued iNIr. Hartley ; " and I shall astonish 
 you still more, when I tell you, that your next sight 
 will be that of this gorgeously attired monarch alighted 
 from his black pony, and squatted upon the ground, 
 outside your house, with an umbrella spread over his 
 head, and a dozen natives fanning the air around him. 
 After this, if one of our party should place himself 
 behind him, hoisting the English union-jack above 
 all ; then, seated upon the ground, his equipments 
 glittering in the sun, his warriors, his pages, and his 
 women disposed about him, and the English flag, 
 held by a white man, waving in the wind, and music 
 inspiring all ; then, there will be no bounds to the per- 
 sonal joy of the prince, looking and speaking, for that 
 moment at least, as the happiest man in the universe ; 
 while the equal rapture of his people, shouting, chat- 
 tering, cracking of fingers, clapping of hands, singing, 
 dancing, jumping, and indulging in every species of 
 delighted antic, will go far beyond my powers of de- 
 scription. Alas ! that I must add, that the beloved 
 liquor of rum will be passing freely, all this time, 
 among every rank, and adding not a little to the noise 
 and tumult of the hour ; and that the king of Badagry, 
 first abandoning all pretension of rank and birth, and 
 
112 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 then growing as cheerful and as merry as the meanest 
 and most jovial of his subjects, will hardly depart 
 before the rum is all consumed, and his kingship 
 grown a little tipsy ! When he goes, however, the 
 procession, the dances, and all the cries and songs 
 will be resumed as at his coming. — King Ado'ly has 
 the reputation of being a friendly, good sort of man. 
 He is of the middle size, inclining to corpulency, and 
 was, when I saw him, about forty-five years of age. He 
 has the utmost respect for English arts, manufactures, 
 and inventions. Once, when the use of the telescope 
 was experimentally shown to him, he confessed his un- 
 feigned astonishment, and that he could scarcely believe 
 the maker to have been no more than mortal. Upon 
 being shown a collection of English productions, in- 
 tended for trade and presents in the interior, he 
 minutely examined every article, without, however, 
 expressing the slightest inclination to reserve any 
 thing for himself." 
 
 " That speaks much in his praise," remarked Mrs. 
 Paulett, " considering his rude condition, and that 
 every thing, no doubt, was, for the moment, in his 
 power !" 
 
 *' Yes," returned Mr. Hartley, " all this is very 
 well ; but, if I were to go on, and to tell you half the 
 horrors, that in spite of what I have said, are prac- 
 tised in Badagry, and to which even Ado'ly is per- 
 sonally a party, you would almost rush back into your 
 tirst ideas of what Africa and her people are ! Africa, 
 in short, is a land of the most violent contrasts, physi- 
 cal and moral ; barrenness and fertility, sands and 
 verdure, droughts and gushing streams, ferocity and 
 mildness, humanity and bai'barism ; but, above all, 
 (and this we may charge exclusively upon that part 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 113 
 
 of Africa which is Xegroland,) it is a land of blood. 
 It is here, in the most especial manner, that we might 
 be tempted to cry out — 
 
 ' There is no tlesh in man's obdurate heart, » 
 
 It does not feel for man !' 
 
 What may have been the case with all the workl in 
 former ages; what may have been the case with even 
 the north of Africa in former ao^es (for we know that 
 even Pacjan Rome wag-ed a religious war against the 
 human sacrifices of the Carthaginians) ; what depths of 
 gratitude we may owe — uhat crowns of amaranth and 
 hallowed srlorv — mav be due to those successive lejjis- 
 lators (among them the four-and-twenty Budhas of the 
 East), who, step by step, have weaned both civil and 
 religious life at large from sanguinary rites and prac- 
 tices, I do not undertake to say ; but this, I believe, is 
 certain, that after contemplating at least the Asia, Eu- 
 rope, America, and even all the rest of Africa, of the 
 present day, we may challenge the globe to produce any 
 other country, including even cannibal countries, in 
 w hich human blood is so prodigally, and so unpity- 
 ingiy shed, as in Xegroland, or Central Africa 1 It 
 gives its peculiar lustre to modern Christendom, that 
 (though the date of such an improvement is but little 
 removed from us) it has at length brought, even into 
 national practice, the treating of all men with humanity, 
 be they friends or foes, or denizens or aliens. Descend- 
 ing lower, we find crowds of nations, inhuman indeed 
 to enemies, and sometimes even to aliens ; but still 
 tender of the lives, and of the comforts, and especially 
 of the blood, of all their friends and countrymen. It 
 is reserved for the Xegro nations to afford the contrast 
 even to this latter class. With them (and the seeming 
 
114 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 inconsistency is strange), a predominant mildness ot" 
 character and manners — a cheerful and a buoyant 
 spirit — a rage for song and dance — an incessant relish 
 for the liveliest and most innocent amusements — a 
 sweetness of voice, and a winning playfulness of man- 
 ner; — with them (the Negro nations), I say, all this 
 is united, not merely with occasional, but with fre- 
 quent, periodical, customary, and established domestic 
 slaughter, civil and religious, such as none besides 
 themselves exhibit! I will not recur to other, and I 
 may add, to still more atrocious examples, especially of 
 civil slaughter, with which, from other parts of Negro- 
 land, my memory serves me ; but I cannot forbear to 
 give you a slight taste of those that are always to be 
 met with in Badagry ; and, at the same time, I repeat, 
 that these things are to be reconciled (with what skill I 
 leave to yourself) with a Negro character in general 
 amiable and pure! That I am not imposing upon 
 you, as to either head, opinions that are solely mine, 
 you will partly see from the words of a book whicli 
 I have in my pocket, and which express the opinions 
 of the most recent of African travellers upon the Ne- 
 gro temper, though simply as to its changes in ordi- 
 nary or daily life. The character, says my author, 
 which Plutarch gives of the Athenians, is strictly appli- 
 cable to the people of Africa in general, in times of 
 peace : * They are easily provoked to anger, and as 
 easily induced to resume sentiments of benevolence 
 and compassion.' This we found to be true in num- 
 berless instances ; particularly amongst the gentler 
 sex, whose apprehensions are quicker and more 
 lively, and whose finer feelings more easily excited, 
 than those of their male companions. We not unfre- 
 quently observed persons quarrelling and fighting in 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 115 
 
 one moment, with all the bitterness of angry elevated 
 passions, and in the next as gentle as lambs, and the 
 most cordial friends in the universe : forsrettino: their 
 previous noisy dispute in the performance of reciprocal 
 acts of kindness and good nature. But these descrip- 
 tions, as well of Plutarch as of my author, are so 
 much the descriptions of the human temper in the 
 universal ; the darker part of them discovering itself 
 in proportion as the individual is uncivilized, and the 
 brighter being the redeeming point in a natural cha- 
 racter, and one so highly to be esteemed in preference to 
 a civilized sullenness, and to a prolonged resentment* ; 
 that I quote them chiefly to sustain my first position, 
 that the Xegro character ' in general,' and (as my 
 author also has it) ' in times of peace,' is benevolent, 
 compassionate, gentle as the lamb ; cordially friendly ; 
 kind; good-natured. Of the sanguinary deeds of which 
 it is nevertheless capable, and in which, in truth, it is 
 trained upon its native soil, and may be continued 
 by tradition, as well as by temperament, I shall say 
 another word or two hereafter. We will defer any 
 additional allusion to the barbarous and sanguinary 
 scenes of Central African society, till, with your good 
 leave, I shall once more have attempted to convey an 
 idea of the natural beauty w hich adorns the country ; 
 and even of the moral virtues which, actually, and in 
 the midst of all, elevate and give happiness to its sable 
 
 * Blacklock, the blind poet and divine of Dumfriesshire, has 
 lliese lines, in a rhythmical portrait of himself: 
 
 " Like all mankind, with vanity I m blessed, 
 
 Conscious of wit I never yet possessed : 
 
 To strong desires my heart an easy prey, 
 
 Oft feels their force, jet never owns their sway : 
 
 This hour, perhaps, as death, I hate my foe ; 
 
 The next, I icoudtr uhy I should do so /" 
 
116 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 people! Here, as every where else, there is so much 
 of good, mixed up with so much that is bad, that 
 it is a task of great difficulty, for any one who is 
 scrupulous to do justice to the character of his fellow- 
 creatures, to make a statement that shall be neither 
 too favourable nor too unAxvourable. Even in Central 
 Africa, while there is much vice and wickedness to 
 be corrected, there is also much merit and goodness 
 which we need not be ashamed, ourselves, to copy and 
 to emulate !" 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 If chance thy home 
 Salute thee with a father's honoured name. 
 Go, call thy sons : instruct them what a debt 
 They owe their ancestors : and make them swear 
 To pay it, by transmitting down, entire, 
 Those sacred rights to which themselves were born ! 
 
 AKENSIDE. 
 
 " We are very much obliged to Mr. Hartley ,'* said, 
 next morning, Mr. Paulett, to his wife and children, 
 " for the accounts that he has so far given us of the 
 Negro nations, and of the rich though burning African 
 region they inhabit; and when he returns to us, after 
 his visit to London, we shall be glad to hear more of a 
 part of the world, which, like that, is so little known to 
 us ; and of which, as it must plainly seem, we enter- 
 tain many erroneous notions. For my part," he added 
 (hut here addressing himself more particularly to Mrs. 
 Paulett), "I am the better pleased with our friend's in- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 117 
 
 formation because these little ones have heard it; and 
 this, again, because, the more they know of foreion 
 countries, the better they may make comparisons with 
 their own ; and the less the danger that they should be 
 without a proper sense of its deficiencies upon the one 
 side, and of its ijreat claims to their esteem and pride 
 upon so very many others'. I would not have them 
 blind to its defects and vices ; but I am sorry when I 
 see any English people too little informed to be aware 
 of the supereminence of England ; that is, of its 
 virtues, of its greatness, and of its arts and civiliza- 
 tion ; and I should be still more sorry to see any 
 ignorance of that kind among these young people 
 whom we are bringing up. The way to love their 
 country, and to do their duty by it, is to admire it ; 
 and, happily, the way to admire it, is to know it I" 
 
 ?\Ir. PuLiIett might, perhaps, have gone further ; and 
 more, even now", might have been said upon the sume 
 subject, had it not pleased me (I scarcely know why) 
 to open a song at the very moment when the amiable 
 gentleman made a pause after the words " to know it." 
 Emily and Richard were alive, as usual, to my notes; / 
 and even their papa and mamma united with them in 
 withdrawing their attention from every thing else, to 
 bestow it once more upon their favourite Robin. Mrs. 
 Paulett even approved, and even directed that Emily, 
 stirring very gently, should throw out a few crumbs, 
 in front of one of the windows, upon the gravel walk 
 which ran between them and the grass; and, when 
 this was done, all the party waited, for some minutes, 
 motionless and silent, in the hope that I would descend 
 across the little lawn, and look about, and pick them 
 up. I could not find courage, however, for tlie pro- 
 
1 18 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ceeding which would have gratified them. The crumbs, 
 at the time, were of no sufficient value to me, to tempt 
 me in the way of danger. I did not know whether or 
 not I might trust Mr. Paulett more freely than Mr. 
 Gubbins ; for the former, too, might be a philosopher, 
 and might have an experiment to try upon Robin-red- 
 breasts ; and, then, there were the children, and per- 
 haps there w as the cat ; and all this to a Robin that 
 was by no means hungry ! Very soon, Mrs. Paulett 
 contented herself, and contented her son and daughter, 
 with the remarks, that if" Robin" did not pick up the 
 crumbs, the sparrows would ; and that all the family 
 must wait, as hitherto, for colder weather, when he 
 would be " glad enough," she triumphantly added, " to 
 come to the window, and even to enter the room, if 
 Richard and Emily should be careful to do nothing to 
 terrify him, while he came softly and cautiously, look- 
 ing first at one, and next at another, and to the right 
 and to the left, at every inch he moved !" 
 
 " Mamma," said, then, Emily (not displeased that 
 silence was no longer enforced); " Mamma, why do 
 they call a Robin ' Robin ?' " 
 
 " Clever Emily !" cried Richard, interrupting, and 
 enjoying a new triumph over the mistakes of his sister : 
 " clever Emily ! to ask why a Robin is called ' Robin !' 
 Why, if it is a ' Robin,' it ought to be called so !" 
 
 " Aye," said Emily (who, this time, saw that she 
 could find no other fault with the criticism), " but you 
 know, and mamma know^s, what I mean, though you 
 are so Cjuick in finding out that I have not spoken 
 properly! I mean, why is the bird called 'Robin,' 
 which you know, mamma, is a man's name, and not a 
 bird's? I know why it is called a Red-breast; that is. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 119 
 
 because of the red feathers upon its breast, as anybody 
 may see; but why should a Red-breast be called 
 ' Robin ?' " 
 
 '' Indeed, Emily," said Mrs. Paulett, " I am afraid 
 that I cannot tell you : you must ask your papa. You 
 know that your papa likes you to ask such questions ; 
 for he says that there is a reason for every thing-, and 
 especially for all words and names ; and that he thinks 
 it very ill-informed and foolish, when people say, that 
 names or words have no meaning, and that things 
 are called so and so, and only because they are so 
 called." 
 
 Emily lost no time in putting her c|uestion to her 
 papa ; but the latter began his reply by confessing that 
 he w-as not sure he could explain the application of the 
 name of " Robin," though he had his suspicions (he 
 subjoined) as to the real origin. " But first,'* said he, 
 " you must remember, that it has been a practice, all 
 over the world, to use familiar names for animals, 
 either proper names or descriptive ones, in speaking 
 either to them, or of them. The Swedes call the Red- 
 breast Tommi Liden ; the Norwegians, Peter Ros-mad 
 (or Red-breast); and the Germans, Thomas Gierdet. 
 As to descriptive names, the Arabs call a number of 
 animals by the name of ' fathers,' while, by this, they 
 only mean, that they are of a gray colour, or coloured 
 like the heads and beards of aged or gray-headed 
 men; and it is thus that you and your schoolfellows," 
 said he, to Richard, " call a certain large gray fly, of 
 the gnat kind or figure, by the name of ' Father 
 Longlegs ;' — for all the gnats are gray.'' 
 
 " But all fathers,'' said Richard, " have not gray 
 heads nor beards? You have none yourself, papa!"' 
 " The term ' father,' however," observed Mr. Paulett, 
 
120 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " is also applied g^enerally to aj^ed men ; and besides, 
 all fathers are old, as compared with boys and girls. 
 But you know that you also make the addition of 
 ' Old Father liong-legs ;' an epithet which may either 
 imply that the insect is * old,' becaUvSe it is a * father ;' 
 or, that this is an ' old father,' because it is grmj, while 
 other fathers are young. But so much, as to familiar 
 and descriptive names of animals. With respect to 
 proper ones (as Meg, or Mag, or Margery, or Mar- 
 garet, for a pie or piet ; and this of Robin, for a Red- 
 breast), there are many which might be mentioned ; 
 but I think that this of ' Robin,' which is the French 
 diminutive of * Robert,' has been given to the Red- 
 breast as calling it, in fondness and respect, a fairy." 
 
 " A fairy, papa," cried Emily? 
 
 " Yes, my love, a fairy ;" answered Mr. Paulett, 
 " and only in the best form of that fanciful idea; for 
 I need not remind you, that in all your fairy tales and 
 tales of the genii, which have the same meaning, you 
 always read of fairies and genii both good and bad." 
 
 " But, la ! papa, w hy should they call a Red-breast 
 a. fairy," still pursued the inquisitive Emily? 
 
 " A good fairy, because of the gentleness of the 
 manners which we witness in it ; because of its enter- 
 ing our houses like a little household god ; because of 
 its hanging about us, in our walks, along the hedge- 
 rows or in the woods, like a little guardian spirit; 
 because of the softness and noiselessness of its motions, 
 and of the kindness, that is, the esteem which it seems 
 to feel for us : for it receives so prettily, that we are 
 almost as thankful as if it gave!" 
 
 " O papa," said the now satisfied Emily; " I shall 
 love Robin better than ever, now that I think he is a 
 fairy ; though I know that fairies are all nonsense, and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BRF.AST. 121 
 
 that there are no such things : but, then, it is so pretty 
 to think and talk of them !" 
 
 " You are like my Cumberland shepherd ; you are 
 for pleasures of the eye, and of the imagination, as 
 well as for those that are more substantial. But, since 
 you are so sensible a little girl, and, by the help of 
 your mamma, have so well learned that there are no 
 such things as fairies in reality, though you must con- 
 tinually hear of them, either in the poetry of the 
 learned, or in the superstitions of the ignorant; I may 
 add, that I think Gray had some notion (though, per- 
 haps, but indistinctly) of this fairy character of the 
 Red-breast, where, in an omitted verse of his famous 
 Elegy, he says, 
 
 * And little footsteps lightly print the ground ;' 
 
 words which may seem to have a double allusion, one 
 to the covering of the Children in the Wood with 
 leaves, by the Robin-red-breasts ; and the other to the 
 fabled rings and dances of the fairies." 
 
 " But why, papa,'' said Richard, " should even a 
 fairy be called Robin, or Robert!"' 
 
 " I am not sure that I know," replied ^Ir. Paulett, 
 " and therefore I will say nothing about that ; but so 
 it is, that this name implies a fairy throughout Eu- 
 rope : not the king of the fairies, Oberon ; but the 
 most active of them, sometimes called Robin Goodfel- 
 low, but who, under another aspect (for it is the same 
 fairies who are good and bad) might also be called 
 Robin Badfellow. As Goodfellow he does all manner 
 of acts of kindness, an<l as Badfellow, every sort of 
 mischief." 
 
 " Then, papa,'' continued Richard, " he is the same 
 as Puck, in Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream ?" 
 
 G 
 
122 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 "He is/' returned Mr. Paiilett; "' and he is the 
 French ' Robert le Diable.' In the ancient history of 
 liimerick, in Ireland, or so long- ago as the twelfth or 
 thirteenth century, there is an account of one Robin 
 Artisson, a fairy who used to sweep the streets before 
 day-light, only to steal the dirt, and carry it away for 
 manure, to the farm of a great lady in the neighbour- 
 ing city; who, by the way, and as the story went, 
 used to reward and compel him to his work of plun- 
 der by means of offerings of peacocks' eyes, and other 
 enchantments ; whence, at the least, we see that Ireland 
 knew what it was to have peacocks, and knew the 
 value of manure for its lands, even in the twelfth or 
 thirteenth century, if no earlier ! While, for the rest, 
 Robin (meaning Robin the Fairy) is or was always the 
 country name of any midnight robber or outlaw ; par- 
 ticularly, or, perhaps, exclusively, if he were very active, 
 and therefore mysterious, committing violence at seve- 
 ral distant places within short spaces of time. There 
 has been one of this sort and name, within a few years 
 past, in Sweden ; and I fancy that it was in this cha- 
 racter that the celebrated robber and outlaw, the Earl 
 of Huntingdon, obtained the name of Robin Hood. 
 ' Robin Hood,' as I take it, is a name having exactly 
 the same meaning as * Hobgoblin,' which, in the oppo- 
 site or bad sense, is the name of Puck or Goodfellow. 
 * Hob,' like Bob, and Robin, and Dobbin, is a contrac- 
 tion, or at least a change, for ' Robert;' and ' goblin' 
 (though for reasons which it would be too long to tell 
 you now), means one that vi^ears a hood. Now, as the 
 meteor which is sometimes called Jack o' Lantern, or 
 Jack of the Lantern, is also called Will o' the Wisp, or 
 Will of, or with, the Wisp ; so, Robin Hood, as I 
 imagine, signifies Robert of, or with, or in, the Hood ; 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 123 
 
 or Robin the Fairy, or Robert le Diable ; or, by another 
 term, Robert the Goblin." 
 
 " Some persons very erroneously suppose, that by 
 
 * Puck,' we are to understand 'Pug,' or ' a monkey;' 
 
 and that the denomination is to be ascribed to ' Puck's' 
 
 mischievous or wanton tricks: and others seem to fancy, 
 
 that by ' //oigoblin,' we mean a hobbling or lame 
 
 goblin ; for which reason, perhaps, Le Sage's Asmo- 
 
 deus is a woodeii-l egged devil, or ' Le Diable Boiteux.' 
 
 But, of ' Hob,' and of ' Hobgoblin,' I have given 
 
 you my opinion ; and I believe that ' Puck,' like 
 
 ' goblin,' implies the wearer of a hood. Puci^, pug, 
 
 poke, peak, are part of a whole string of words of 
 
 which all have the same general meaning. Hoods 
 
 have ' peaks' or ' pokes,' or pointed ends, or ends 
 
 drawn together, and are themselves, for that reason, 
 
 pokes, peaks, pugs, or pucks ; as in the word ' pucker.' 
 
 Gray calls his ladies, in the Long Story, ' the square 
 
 koods^ ;' and Puck is a ' peaked hood' under the same 
 
 idea. Only, in more simplicity and strictness, there is 
 
 no occasion for the epithet ; for every hood is ' peaked,' 
 
 or is itself a peak, poke, puck, or pitg. A monkey is 
 
 called pug, and even monkey itself, only because the 
 
 fur about his head and throat is likened to a hood, or 
 
 puck, or pug; and, because monks wear hoods or 
 
 pucks, he is therefore called monkey, or ' a little 
 
 monk,' in the same manner that we have a flower 
 
 called ' monk's-^oof/;' and, as to a particular species 
 
 of monkey, it has the name of capucin, or capuchin, 
 
 from an order of monks likewise so denominated, and 
 
 of which the hood is peculiarly conspicuous in their 
 
 dress; or, from this species only, the whole genus may 
 
 * " Cried the square hoods, iu wofal fidget." 
 
 g2 
 
124 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 have come to be called monkeys. I repeat, that I still 
 leave untold, why fairies, like monkeys (but not because 
 they are likened to monkeys), are said to wear hoods, or 
 pucks, and are thence called hoods, or pucks, or goblins. 
 The reason is exceedingly different, but too long in its 
 explanation to be told at present. Monkeys are called 
 pucks or pugs upon account of a natural appearance 
 in their forms ; fairies are called pugs or pucks, upon 
 account of their imaginary dress. ' Hoods,' or ' peaks,' 
 give the name in either case." 
 
 " I shall like to read about Robin Hood again," said 
 Richard, " now that I hear that people believed or 
 called him a fairy ; but I am thinking, papa, of what 
 you said, the other morning, that there are none of 
 these pretty Robin-red-breasts, and no singing-birds, 
 and no birds that come about the houses, in New 
 Holland and Van Diemen's Land?" 
 
 " What I said of the absence, in those countries, of 
 so many of the natural productions to which we are 
 accustomed in the Northern Hemisphere, and which 
 includes plants as well as animals, is corroborated," 
 returned Mr. Paulett, " by the present lately made by 
 our gracious Queen Adelaide, of a collection of Northern 
 plants to the colony of Van Diemen's Land ; but I did 
 not go quite so far as to say that there were no small 
 birds in those countries, to come about the houses. 
 There is a species of swallow in great numbers, and 
 still more familiar (as we may think) than any of our 
 own." 
 
 *' But swallows are not so pretty, nor so easy to be 
 acquainted with, as Red-breasts," interrupted Richard. 
 " Perhaps not," replied his papa ; " but their fami- 
 liarity and confidence, in living among us, and in 
 building about our houses, has everywhere recom- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 125 
 
 mended them to mankind ; as is also the case with 
 several other animals, includinor the stork, the dove or 
 pigeon, and the dog. But these swallows of the 
 Southern Hemisphere carry their confidence and tami- 
 liarity very far. From the warmth and dryness of the 
 season, the windows of a drawing-room, in the hand- 
 some house of a settler, were last year continually open 
 during the breeding-time ; and here, one pair of swal- 
 lows built their nest within the room, but under the 
 cornice; another, under the shelf, and at the corner, 
 of the mantel-piece ; and a third against the legs, 
 under a table which was stationary in the middle of 
 the room ! This last was demolished, almost at its 
 beginning, by the family, upon account of its incon- 
 venience ; the second was given up by the swallows 
 themselves, because the children were continually 
 prying into it; but, in the first, the young were actu- 
 ally hatched I" 
 
 " IMarama," said Emily, " I w ish we had a pair of 
 swallows, to build in our parlour !'^ 
 
 " I cannot say that I quite wish the same," replied 
 Mrs. Paulett; '' but listen to what your papa is going 
 to add." 
 
 " I mean only, once more," concluded Mr. Paulett, 
 " to bid you young people remember the recommenda- 
 tions of your native country, and how much you have 
 to be thankful for, in being born, and bred, and living 
 in it ! The presence of the small birds, and song-birds, 
 as I have told you (after making allowance for the 
 different productions of different countries, and espe- 
 cially of the two Hemispheres, the Northern and the 
 Southern), is often due to agriculture and gardening, 
 and to the other works of human industry. It is due, 
 also, to the greater or less advancement of wealth, and 
 
]2G BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 arts, and the other attendants upon civilization, in 
 particular countries respectively ; and it is proper, as 
 I have said, that you should know and remember at 
 what an eminent height your own countiy is standing 
 in these respects, in order that you may be justly 
 proud of your share in the distinction, and still more, 
 that you may love it, and do your duty by it, as you 
 ought. Even the southern part of this island has a 
 beauty of landscape, as well as richness of production, 
 depending partly upon climate, and partly upon 
 wealth and civilization, such as strikes the eyes of 
 strangers as exclusively English; but which, to natives, 
 and especially to children, may seem nothing more 
 than is to be met with every where else. A late 
 Scottish traveller to the neighbourhood of the town of 
 Bedford, makes the remarks which I shall read to 
 you, upon the country which he saw there: ' I visited 
 the spot,' says he, ' one day in the spring, and shall 
 not readily forget my morning's walk, and its accom- 
 panying circumstances. The landscape was truly 
 English, and every thing seemed joyous and animated. 
 The trees had not yet put forth their glorious garniture 
 of leaves ; but the brooks were perfectly transparent — 
 the meadows rich with verdure; and here and there a 
 tall fir-tree shot its green spiral branches into the air, 
 and glistening masses of ivy twined round the trunk 
 and arms of some old oak, or completely enveloped 
 the marshy hollands and stunted elms. Birds were 
 singing gaily in the lanes and hedges, husbandmen were 
 busy sowing in the fields, and schoolboys were equally 
 busy, primrosing, or violeting, in all the luxury of the 
 Easter holidays. The poor man's spot of garden- 
 ground showed its knots of spring-Howers, and its bor- 
 der of daisies, primroses, and crocuses, with its budding 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 127 
 
 gooseberry and currant bushes ; while the mistress of 
 the cottage might be seen twirling her mop at the door 
 in the sunshine, and thanking providence for the beau- 
 tiful Jine iveather' The tourist, had he been a native 
 of England, might equally have remarked upon the 
 rapid spread of luxurious novelties of the garden, in 
 England, from the proudest scenes of Stow or Chis- 
 wick, to the palings of the humblest cottage. The 
 dahlia — 
 
 " The dahlia, gera-like in its velvet fold ;"' 
 
 which was unknown in England before the Peace of 
 Vienna, when the late Lady Castlereagh brought it 
 from the Austrian gardens, is now luxuriant and various 
 in every cottage-garden in the south of England, dis- 
 puting ground with the old mary golds, and even sun- 
 flowers, and vying with the richest productions of 
 horticulture. But to this," continued Mr. Paulett, "I 
 may add a description of the appearance of our whole 
 island, from the pen of one who affects to write as a 
 foreigner, and whose picture, though a little poetical 
 and exaggerated, has yet a general consistence with 
 truth : — ' An American citizen,' says he, * visits the con- 
 tinent of Europe, and on his way home passes some 
 time in England. Here, he finds the roads, in every 
 direction, far better than any he has seen before, and he 
 sees more of them, on a given space, than in France 
 or America. By the side of nearly all the great roads, 
 he sees, for the frst time, a well-kept footpath. In 
 many places, the footpaths across fields are as dnj, 
 and smooth, and trim, as walks in pleasure-gardens. 
 All the carriages on the roads are stronger and lighter, 
 more useful and sightly, than those to which he is 
 accustomed ; and the vast number of those carriages 
 
J28 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Strikes him with astonishment. The strenofth and 
 beauty of the horses, the quality and neatness of their 
 harness, and the very whips with which they are driven, 
 excite his wonder. He exclaims — What magnificent 
 crops! What beautiful meadows! What fine cattle 
 and sheep ! What skill, &c. The mansions are pa- 
 laces, the farmhouses mansions ; the merest village 
 of cottages has an air of comfort; whilst the number 
 of those mansions, farm-houses, and villages, gives to 
 the country the appearance of a scattered town. But 
 then the towns ! Many of them are so extensive, the 
 houses in them are so well built, the shops have such 
 a display of rich goods, the streets are so well paved, 
 and contain so large a portion of good houses ; these 
 towns are so full of well-dressed people, — that each of 
 them might be taken for a city. Even the smallest 
 towns aopear like sections of a wealthy capital; and 
 the number of towns, large and small, is so great, that 
 together with the great number of good houses by the 
 road-side out of town, one seems to be travelling all 
 day through one street.' This gentleman adds (what 
 helps to explain so much of the description he has 
 given), that ' the people of England have accumulated 
 a greater capital [or, acquired a greater mass of wealth], 
 in proportion to their numbers, than ever was heard 
 or dreamed of before, by any nation, since the begin- 
 ing of the world*.' 
 
 " Another native of the same country (a minister of 
 state), looking, not at our landscape and general sur- 
 face, but at our metropolis of London, speaks in this 
 manner of the great and always growing (and rapidly 
 o-rowing) greatness of that splendid city : ' I went to 
 
 * England and America. By an American. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 129 
 
 England ao^ain/ says he, ' on a short visit, in 1S29. 
 An interval of but four years had elapsed ; yet I was 
 amazed at the increase of London. The Regent's 
 Park, which, when I first knew the west end of the 
 town, disclosed nothing but lawns and fields, was now 
 a city. You saw long rows of lofty buildings, in their 
 outward aspect magnificent. * "^ Another city, hardly 
 smaller, seemed to have sprung up in the neighbour- 
 hood of St. Pancras church and the liOndon University. 
 Belgrave Scjuare, in another direction, broke upon me 
 VN-ith like surprise. The road from Westminster Bridge 
 to Greenwich exhibited, for several miles, compact 
 ranges of new houses. Finchley Common, desolate 
 in 1819, was covered with neat cottages, and indeed 
 villages. In whatever direction I went, indications 
 were similar. I say nothing of Carlton Terrace, for 
 Carlton House was gone ; or of the street, of two miles, 
 from that point to Park Crescent, surpassing any other 
 in London, or any that I saw in Europe. To make 
 room for this new and spacious street, old ones had 
 been pulled down, of which no vestige remained. I 
 could scarcely, but for the evidence of my senses, have 
 believed it afl ^ !' Such," said Mr. Paulett, " is the 
 manner in which London, its suburbs, and its improve- 
 ments appeared, a few years ago, to the American 
 Envoy ; and to me, who have seen that gentleman^s 
 own country, and the rapid progress there, and have 
 some idea, therefore, of the appearance and state of 
 things in a new country ; to me, the new buildings in 
 and about London, and in almost every town, village, 
 and division of this old country, Old England ; and 
 still more the advances in the fields, in drainage and. 
 
 * Rush's Residence at the Goart of London. 
 
 g3 
 
130 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 in enclosures ; in the neatness and costliness of fences ; 
 in the change of cottages into farm-houses, and of 
 farm-houses and cottages into villas and cottage-villas; 
 and in the additions to farm-houses — in the change of 
 their parlours into kitchens, and of their chambers into 
 servants' rooms, while new buildings are afforded for 
 the family ; —to me, every thing in England seems as 
 if new and wealthy colonists were hourly pouring into 
 it; as if houses could scarcely be built or enlarged in 
 haste enough for their accommodation, or lands cleared 
 and enclosed, sufficient in space and luxury. Every 
 thing seems advancing ; nothing going back.'^ 
 
 " But, my dear children,^^ finally concluded Mr. Pau- 
 lett, '* I tell you these things of your country, not that 
 you should stop at a mere pride of superiority ; but 
 that, from these particulars, as well as from others yet 
 more important, you should learn to love it as becomes 
 you : to feel that natural affection for it, which every 
 warm heart feels for its native country, strengthened by 
 the consideration of its greatness and its gifts; and to 
 act well your own parts, toward it, and toward the 
 world beside, so as to return your obligations, and to 
 do honour to that birth-place from which so much 
 honour comes to you ! Remember, that besides all its 
 wealth and external grandeur, the most distinguished 
 of your modern poets has called your island, 
 
 * The inviolate island of the brave and free ;' 
 
 that Shakspeare, even in his time, could say of it, 
 
 ' This dear, dear land. 
 
 Dear for its reputation through the world ;' 
 
 and that an intermediate bard has extolled the lot of 
 the Englishman, for that — 
 
 ' The dust of heroes is his native soil !'" 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. iJ^l 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 It was the sound 
 Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
 Such as the jocund tlute, or gamesome pipe, 
 Stirs up among the loose anlettered binds, 
 When, for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 
 In wanton dance thev praise the bounteous Pan, 
 And thank the gods amiss ! 
 The rudeness and swilled insolence. MILTON, 
 
 " Quitting Badagry," said the African traveller, whom 
 a few morning's after, I found speaking, and who, as I 
 soon learned, had returned the day before from Lon- 
 don to the cottage ; " quitting Badagry, city and terri- 
 tory together, let us cross the river, by the map, at 
 Lagos, and enter the adjacent and equally Negro state 
 of Yariba. That route will lead us into the interior, 
 and toward the banks of the river Niger, or great river 
 of Nigritia, or of Negroland, the country of the Blacks 
 or Negroes, or this Central Africa of which we are 
 speaking. That river, called, as it now appears, by 
 some of the Negro nations, the Quorra, has been a 
 geographical perplexity for ages; its termination, either 
 in the sea or elsewhere, having been a secret never 
 solved, though often sought for, till the recent expedi- 
 tion of the enterprising Cornish men and brothers, 
 John and Richard Landers. On arriving at the town 
 of Bookhar, near the entrance of which, as usual, is a 
 solitary temple or feteesh-hut (in this instance, of large 
 dimensions), Captain Clapperlon, in passing through 
 
132 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 that country, seated himself, with his party, under a 
 large tree, and was quickly visited by hundreds of the 
 inhabitants, who came in large companies to see the 
 Europeans, and who, as soon as their first curiosity 
 was satisfied, made way for their impatient neighbours. 
 The children that were too small to catch a glimpse 
 of them through the crowd, were perched upon the 
 shoulders of their parents or other relations, who 
 pointed the Europeans out to them, saying", * There 
 they are !' All, however, behaved with the strictest 
 propriety ; and, though they repeatedly laughed to 
 each other, in making observations on the singularity 
 of appearance, or whiteness of the stranger's skin, not 
 a single word of derision or disrespect ever escaped 
 them. Advancing from Bookhar toward the neighbour- 
 ing town of Dagnoo, and being overtaken by the dark, 
 they were preceded, say they, ' by a number of the 
 kind inhabitants, with torches, to show us the intricate 
 path/ From Dagnoo, they continued their journey 
 towards Hunba, through a vast and ancient forest, some- 
 times broken by a grove of palm-trees, or a field of 
 maize, or even a whole village, planted in some open 
 space. In the path (for it is not to be called a road) 
 they met numbers of both sexes, carrying bundles of 
 palm leaves on their heads (used for thatching their 
 huts); and the wild shrill cry of the gray parrot re- 
 sounded from the trees. Hunba was a town in ruins, 
 and the inhabitants appeared in a truly pitiable state; 
 but, nevertheless, singing, dancing, and music-playing 
 were kept up in it during the whole of the night, and 
 with as much spirit and good humour as if they had 
 been the most prosperous people in the world. At 
 Bidgie, a pleasant town, in the midst of extensive 
 fields of corn and plantains, the chief, a fine young 
 
ITS ROBIN-RE DwBRE A ST. 133 
 
 man, named Lollakelli, who was perpetually smiling, 
 pressed them to stay with him the remainder of the 
 day ; and the inhabitants, who came in crowds to see 
 them, eagerly paying them the same compliment, they 
 did not hesitate long, but remained and slept there." 
 
 " I had little idea,'^ said Mr. Paulett, " that travel- 
 ling among the natives of Africa could have been thus 
 agreeable !" 
 
 " Yes ; and assisted by benevolence as vvell. Taking 
 leave of the smiling Lollakelli, the strangers proceeded 
 over dried marshes, which, as you know, are commonly 
 rough ground ; and here, about mid-day. Captain 
 Clapperton, exhausted by the fatigue and heat, was 
 resting himself, for a few instants, beneath the shade 
 of a diminutive tree, when a native, on horseback, ap- 
 proached, and seeing him thus sunken upon the earth, 
 dismounted, and insisted upon his getting upon his 
 horse ; which being done, the party marched onward 
 to Atalabora, the black Samaritan accompanying them 
 on foot. The town of Funnic was reached through 
 large plantations of yams. Drawing near to Laboo, 
 which they entered by moonlight, the Englishmen 
 were met by horses sent by its chief for their accom- 
 modation. Laboo is delightfully situated on a rising 
 ground, commanding an extensive and noble prospect. 
 The approach is by a beautiful avenue of trees, be- 
 tween w hich, at certain measured distances, are erected 
 feteesh-houses, held in the greatest veneration by the 
 inhabitants. Immediately upon arriving, the strangers 
 were conducted to the chief, whom they found sitting 
 under the verandah of his dwelling, and who politely 
 welcomed them to Laboo ; observing, that he had been 
 expecting them some hours before." 
 
 " Why this is real civilization," interrupted Mr. Pau- 
 
134 EURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 lett, who could no longer repress his surprise ; " and 
 I see, that these people, as they are zealous in their 
 faith, so they are religious also in their practice! Here 
 are works, the fruits of faith." 
 
 *' Assuredly," said Mr. Hartley; "and perhaps, I 
 have well-nioh said enoug^h to furnish vou with what 
 is the fairer side of native Negro manners. I will now 
 turn your attention more particularly to the landscape, 
 the amount of population, state of arts, and natural 
 history of this Central Africa. Crossing a river called 
 Akkeni, and still in the empire of Yariba, the party 
 reached the village of Afoora, their journey to which 
 had been rendered even more than ordinarily pleasant 
 by the fragrant odour of the cotton-plant, in plantations 
 of which the country abounded, and which was then 
 in its full blossom ; — by the wild solitary whistle of 
 the gray parrot, and by the delightful melody of hun- 
 dreds of small birds, poured from the branches of 
 tall trees. The country, indeed, every where improved, 
 as they penetrated further from the sea. Fields of 
 maize, and plantations of cotton were numerous, while 
 groves of palm, and clumps of cocoa-trees, scattered 
 upon all sides, rendered the prospect from the hills 
 inexpressibly beautiful. In the paths toward Assudo, 
 the first walled town they had seen, they observed 
 numbers of fine birds, with silky and brilliant plumage. 
 The town of Assudo contains upwards often thousand 
 inhabitants, whom the strangers found as curious as 
 their rustic fellow-countrymen, and full as noisy ; but 
 still more modest and respectful, and therefore still 
 more pleasing in their manners. Provisions, in abun- 
 dance, at this, as at all other places, were supplied to 
 them by the chief. In another part of their journey, 
 they speak of the country as unspeakably fine, almost 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 135 
 
 clear of wood, and looking as fresh and beautiful as 
 the richest parts of England, in the summer months. 
 'Plantations of rice and cotton,' says the narrator; 
 * fields of undulating corn ; meadows covered with a 
 lovely verdure; and gentle slopes, with herds and 
 flocks grazing and browzing on them, looked as pic- 
 turesque and rural as any landscape I had beheld in 
 my own, or, indeed, in any country/ The scenery on 
 the road from Afoora to Chiadoo, is extremely pic- 
 turesque. The track wound by the sides of the Cong 
 Mountains, over rocks and by the edges of precipices, 
 or through romantic glens at their base, intersected by 
 innumerable streams; and on all sides immense masses 
 of granite, jutting abruptly from the hills or valleys, 
 reared their heads, in some places, to the height of 
 several hundred feet ; while others, fearfully overhang- 
 ing the narrow foot-way, inspired, into those who 
 passed beneath them, a shuddering awe. With some 
 danger, and more difficulty, the natives who carried 
 the hammocks of one of the travellers, clambered with 
 it the summit of one of the mounts ; the prospect from 
 which, up the one side, was immeasurably grand and 
 imposing, and upon the other, enchantingly beautiful. 
 Below their feet were lovely dales, cultivated in the 
 highest degree, and planted with cotton, yams, plan- 
 tains, and other crops ; and fertilized with meandering 
 rivulets, sparkling in the sunbeams ; while all behind, 
 vvas naked rocks, precipitously steep and rugged, 
 many standing singly, and others piled loosely upon 
 each other, apparently ready to tumble into the vale 
 below. The vales, as well as the slopes and summits 
 of the hills, studded with the cleanly habitations of the 
 natives, completed the scene ; throughout the whole of 
 which was a grandeur, cheerfulness, and beauty, such as 
 
136 BEJRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the travellers had never seen surpassed. Pursuing still 
 their route, they traversed, at another time, a region 
 charmingly diversified with hills and dales, streamlets 
 of water, groves of superb trees, which were peopled 
 with birds of the gayest plumage ; and enclosures of 
 maize, yams, indigo, cotton, wheat and millet. But 
 this was beyond Yariba, in the dominions of the Fala- 
 tahs, whose government, but not the whole of whose 
 people, is Mohammedan.'^ 
 
 " You surprised me," said Mr. Paulett, " when you 
 spoke of a walled town, containing ten thousand inha- 
 bitants !" 
 
 " Oh ! there are towns in this part of Africa," re- 
 plied Mr. Hartley, " containing ten, twenty, thirty, and 
 forty thousand inhabitants, and more. Soccatoo, the 
 Falatah capital, contains a hundred and forty thousand. 
 But you are to understand that these walled towns, 
 like ancient Babylon and Nineveh, and all the ancient 
 fortified towns in the world, are in reality walled dis- 
 tricts or tracts of country ; and comprehend, besides 
 the sites of the bouses, the grounds on which the inha- 
 bitants graze cattle, and from which they raise provi- 
 sions; and sometimes rivers, lake«, woods, and mo- 
 rasses also, ^yhen Captain Clapperton entered the 
 city of Catunga, the capital of Yariba, he found it 
 a five miles' ride, through the heat and dust, from the 
 northern gate to the king's palace ; and Cano, one of the 
 towns in possession of the Falatahs, and ten miles in 
 length within the walls, is intersected by a wide and 
 deep morass, alternately filled with water, or else dry- 
 ing up. The walls of these- towns are of clay ; and the 
 fortification includes an excellent provision of rows of 
 trees, growing parallel to, and within the walls ; which, 
 in the no unfrequent case cxf actual siege, obstruct no 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 137 
 
 operation of the besieg-ed without, afford an extra shel- 
 ter to the low houses within; and, if necessary, can 
 be cut down for any purpose rendered needful by 
 warfare." 
 
 " I should like to be there to fight," said Richard ; 
 " but I do so much want to hear about those beautiful 
 birds ; and pray, Mr. Hartley, tell us whether there 
 really are any serpents, and how big they are ?" 
 
 " As to serpents. Master Richard," answered Mr. 
 Hartley, *' there is no denying that there are not a 
 ^e\v in every part of Africa; but, as I hinted before, 
 they commonly take care to get out of every body's 
 way, so that bites, even of those that are venomous, 
 are very rarely heard of. There are frequently seen in 
 the woods of the countries of Borghoo and Hoossa, 
 snakes of a large species, swinging in the sunbeams, 
 with their tails encircling the branch of a tree ; but, 
 upon the approach of a human creature, they glide to 
 the summit in an instant, and it is only thence that they 
 venture to look down upon the head of the man or 
 men beneath. Once, in the course of my rambles, I 
 saw, and wounded, if not killed, with my gun, a boa- 
 constrictor, of the thickness of a man's thigh, but the 
 reptile would have been very glad to hide itself, and 
 take no notice of me ; and frequently, on waking in the 
 morning, I have observed slender green snakes, varie- 
 gated black, and common in most of the inhabited 
 parts of Africa, and whose bite is mortal, gliding from 
 under the mat upon which I had been sleeping, and 
 making toward the door of the hut, without having 
 injured me in the least, and with no thought but ol' 
 escape. It is observable of all the reptile tribes, ser- 
 pents as well as lizards (and which are all cold-blooded 
 animals), that their fondness for warmth, which leads 
 
138 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 them to bask in the sun, also draws them to beds and 
 bed-chambers ; that they thus seek the society of man ; 
 and that, different in nature from man, and from warm- 
 blooded animals in general, as they so strikingly are, 
 they even court domestication, and are far from being 
 insensible to human kindness ! A gentleman in Eng- 
 land kept one of the harmless English green snakes for 
 fourteen years, and the animal knew him well ; and a 
 friend of mine, resident in Jamaica, finds every morn- 
 ing, upon his washhand-stand, a lizard which has 
 lived a lenoth of time in his bed-chamber. While he 
 is at the stand, the lizard keeps winking his eyes and 
 looking at him; and it readily submits to be put a 
 little aside occasionally, which my friend is accustomed 
 to do, when, in the act of moving any thing, there is 
 danger of hurting it." 
 
 " I hope I shall have a lizard," said Richard, " and 
 I am sure I will not hurt it; but the birds — the 
 beautiful birds; — you say there are such beautiful 
 birds in Africa?" 
 
 *' Well, among the great variety of species, there 
 are many of rich and brilliant plumage. Parrots, the 
 wild Guinea-fowl, and many species of doves, are seen 
 amons: the beautiful trees which fill the forests inter- 
 spersed throughout the country, and by their cries, their 
 chatter, and their cooing, impart a grateful animation 
 to the scene. Sometimes we see the golden pigeon, 
 so called from the shining yellow which tinges the 
 feathers upon its breast and under its wings; while 
 the general colour of the bird is a rich and vivid blue. 
 I may mention, also, the harvest-bird, known south- 
 ward, even to the Cape, but there called the finy-fink. 
 There are two varieties of this beautiful bird ; the 
 one yellow and black, and the other a bright scarlet, 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 139 
 
 or red and black. In each, the feathers are fine, soft, 
 and silky; but the birds retain their splendid colours 
 only while the corn is in the ground ; and, by the time 
 the corn is fairly housed, which is also just about 
 the period when their young are able to take wing, 
 their whole plumage is changed to a russet brown ! It 
 is from this singular coincidence that they have their 
 name of harvest-birds." 
 
 '' But are there no other birds," inquired the still 
 eager Richard .^ 
 
 " Many (including ostriches, and others, of which I 
 shall say no more) ; but I will mention, again, one 
 other African bird, because its history has a curious 
 and romantic interest. You are aware that a notion 
 has come down to us from some antiquity, and is very 
 widely spread — has become a proverb — a hackneyed 
 emblem — and the subject of incessant pictures and 
 other representations, — that the Pelican feeds its young 
 with its own blood, which, with its bill, it causes to 
 flow from its breast. Now, the species of Pelican with 
 even the renown of which our northern countries is 
 best and almost exclusively acquainted, is the White 
 Pelican, or Pelican of the Wilderness, which is also 
 the Pelican of Scripture; and it is very certain that 
 this bird performs no such action as this ascribed to 
 it, and which, by the way, had it been true, would 
 probably have found its way into some Scriptural 
 allusion or description ; for Scripture is full of natural 
 allusions and descriptions. The White Pelican, or 
 Pelican of the Wilderness, having filled, with fish, at 
 some lake or river, the enormous sac beneath its 
 also enormous bill, wings its somewhat heavy way to 
 its distant nest, in more arid situations of the wilder- 
 ness or desert; and naturalists, by a species of com- 
 
140 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 mertary often too prevalent, have tried to explain what 
 has been called the ancient fable, by supposing' that 
 the bird, when seen conveying', with its own bill, its 
 fishy prey into the bills of its young ones, had thence 
 been fancifully described as feeding them from its 
 breast, and with its blood. The late traveller, how- 
 ever, to whom I have already referred, seems to have 
 made it certain, that a practice, much nearer to the 
 ancient story, is really to be seen in a certain species 
 of Pelican, but not in the species known in the more 
 northern parts of the tropical regions of the world. It 
 seems that, in Africa, so far south as Hoossa, the gray 
 species of Pelican abounds upon the margins of the 
 rivers, in the same manner that it, or another species, is 
 seen in the southern parts of North America ; while the 
 White Pelican belong^s to the warm countries in the 
 northern. The Gray Pelicans are much smaller than 
 the White; and their bills are even much smaller in 
 proportion. In reality, they are not designed for a 
 similar plan of life; for these live always upon the 
 water, or by its edge, near to which latter they build 
 their nests, and on which they always stand to feed 
 their young. But the people of Hoossa speak as fami- 
 liarly of the Pelican's feeding its young with its blood, 
 as do we in Europe ; and, for this they have apparent 
 reason. It is the Gray Pelican, that is, the species of 
 Pelican peculiar to these southern countries, which 
 performs, and which alone performs, the action, or, 
 rather, an action so nearly approaching to it, as might 
 seem sufficient in itself to justify the original story, 
 and to excuse what is wanting to its entire accuracy. 
 ' I have stood for a long time together,' says my travel- 
 ler, ' by the side of this stupid animal, watching its 
 motions, and seeing it bending its head, for its off- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 141 
 
 sprins: to extract the nourishment. The younon ones 
 thrust their beaks into a small round aperture at the 
 lower part of the back of the neck of their parent; and 
 they swallow the substance that flows freely through. 
 If it be not blood that issues from the old bird, it is a 
 red liquid so closely resemblino: it, that the difference 
 cannot be perceiv^ed. I took a sketch of a Pelican feed- 
 ing its young;- in this manner/ adds the traveller, ' in 
 Hoossa, which is now in my possession.' Thus, Richard, 
 it appears, that there is ' always something new from 
 Africa/ — but you will find a better explanation than all, 
 in a little book, entitled, ' The Pelican of the Wilder- 
 ness ; an Autobiography.'" 
 
 " Oh ! but what else is there, sir, that you can tell 
 us of in Africa;" inquired the insatiable Richard? 
 
 " I will not talk to you of elephants, lions, panthers, 
 hyaenas, and the wild boar; nor of the wild ox, and the 
 innumerable herds and species of antelope, as well as 
 apes, baboons, monkeys, and other beasts, with which 
 every one knows Africa to abound ; unless to remark 
 that the camel, which is numerous in a state of domes- 
 tication, is also found wild in Hoossa ; that the ele- 
 phant, which, in Africa, is never domesticated, is 
 growing scarce in most parts of the forests of the 
 interior, where, as the natives jocularly say, having 
 learned the value of their tusks, they keep very much 
 out of the hunters' way ; and that the giraffe, or camel- 
 leopard, which inhabits the south of Africa to the Cape, 
 is also found, alono- with the wild camel, in the forests 
 of Hoossa. But I must recur to what I have before 
 said of the very small horse of the country, which has 
 a black transverse streak on the back and shoulders, 
 like the ass; and which is of a mouse colour, exceed- 
 ingly shaggy, and with hair as fine and as soft as 
 silk." 
 
142 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " I shall have such a horse as that ; shall I not, 
 one clay, papa?" cried Richard; to which he added, 
 '' but you say nothino;,Mr. Hartley, of the iigers ; though 
 I have heard that there are such very great tigers in 
 Africa ; — and you know, papa, that we saw a ' royal 
 African tiger' at Derby fair!" 
 
 " * Royal African tigers' may very likely show them- 
 selves at Derby fair," answered Mr. Hartley, " where, 
 as at most other fairs, there may not only have been 
 this, but many other wonders also, which nature never 
 owned ; but I assure you, my dear young fair-goer, 
 that there never was a tiger in all Africa, unless 
 such an animal may have been brought thither on 
 ship-board ! I know very well, that naturalists, and 
 even travellers, still talk of tigers as animals which are 
 to be found in Africa ; but I persist, not at all the less, 
 in assuring you, that there is no tiger naturally in 
 Africa; and I can safely add, that this is only one of 
 many similar mistakes, still current in natural history, 
 and in the mouths of travellers. All these are still 
 ready to tell us, both of tigers and tiger-cats, in Africa; 
 but there is no tiger in Africa ; and, as to the tiger-cat, 
 it is the wild ' cat-o'-mountain,' of which our domestic 
 cats are fancied to be the descendants and varieties. 
 The domestic cat is an original native of warmer 
 climates than our own ; as, perhaps, is partly evinced 
 by puss's extreme shyness of cold, and extreme fond- 
 ness for sun-shine and a fire-side!" 
 
 " No tigers in Africa," reiterated the still incre- 
 dulous Richard ? 
 
 " No," continued Mr. Hardey ; " and to make you 
 still wiser, I must tell you, that the tiger belongs 
 chiefly to India and China, and, at all events, is not to 
 be found to the westward of the river Indus. It is a 
 native of Asia only, and of only the eastern part of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 143 
 
 Asia. One of my proofs is, that in ancient Rome, to 
 which all ferocious beasts were eagerly carried, to 
 make their fights the entertainment of the people, the 
 tiger (in spite of early Roman knowledge of much 
 that belonged to Africa) was never seen till toward 
 the latter days of the Roman empire, when, and not 
 till when, Rome had opened a communication with 
 India. The truth is, that all the animals of the cat 
 kind (if, indeed, the tiger is properly a cat) are vulgarly 
 spoken of together. Neither travellers nor naturalists 
 take notice, that of these animals, some (to advert to 
 no other distinction) are striped, and some spotted. 
 Xow, it is the striped that are the tigers — a distinc- 
 tion which, in part, justifies the application, to the 
 common wild cat, of the name of tiger-cat; — for the 
 cat, as we all see, is more striped than spotted. But 
 the tiger is separated from the spotted animals of the 
 cat kind by a distinction added to that of his stripes. 
 He cannot climb a tree, which is the privilege of every 
 thing really cattish, and in his deficiency of which he 
 shares with the lion. There is, in truth, a plain afllinity 
 between the tiger and the lion ; and, as to my private 
 opinion, I hesitate at placing either of those animals 
 among the species of cats. 
 
 " And what, then, sir," said Richard, " are the 
 spotted animals of the cat kind?" 
 
 " Speaking of the old world exclusively," answered 
 ^Ir. Hartley, "they are the panther, leopard, and hunting 
 or smaller leopard, called, in Persia (of which country 
 the language is radically the same as our own), chittah, 
 chetah, kittah, kitty, kit, or cat. The panther is a native 
 of Africa, and not, as I suspect (I speak advisedly), of 
 any other country in the world; and the leopard is a 
 native of western Asia, with, as I also suspect, ecjuai 
 
144 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 exclnsiveness of conntiy. In short, though even the 
 traveller whom I have quoted to you, and upon whom 
 I rely for so many other particulars, tells us that there 
 are in Africa, not only tia^ers and leopards, but also 
 wolves, I do not believe that the country contains either 
 a tiger, a leopard, or a wolf. I am of opinion, that in 
 Africa, the place of the tiger is filled by the lion ; that 
 of the leopard, by the panther; and that of tlie wolf, 
 by the hyaena; and in corroboration, I may remark, 
 that even this very traveller, who, in prefacing the 
 natural history of his work, candidly declares himself 
 no naturalist ; — even this traveller, though, in the natu- 
 ral history of his work, he gives the names of tiger, 
 leopard, and wolf, yet, in his actual travels (while he 
 speaks of the panther and the hyaena as seen by him- 
 self, and as hunted or dreaded by the natives), never 
 finds occasion to speak either of tiger, leopard, or wolf. 
 The geography of animals, indeed, as well as of plants, 
 is a subject very little understood. I believe that some- 
 thing, however, has been already intimated, at least, to 
 the world in relation to it, from a quarter whence, per- 
 haps, we may one day hear something more." 
 
 " Our best natural histories seem to be still defec- 
 tive?" 
 
 " Assuredly they are." 
 
 " But the fishes in the Central African rivers," said 
 Richard ? 
 
 " As to the rivers," resumed his instructor, " they 
 are filled with fish, and are thickly inhabited by croco- 
 diles; which latter remark, I believe, is as good as to 
 tell you, that they have none of those hippopotami, or 
 river-horses, that are numerous at the Cape, and in 
 Upper Egypt and Nubia; but nowhere, I think, in 
 company with the crocodile. The whole country, from 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. ] 45 
 
 Baclagry to Soccatoo, is in considerable dread of those 
 amphibious reptiles, and the people set crocodile-eggs 
 upon the tops of their houses, as charms to keep them 
 and all other evil things, (including the 'evil eye,') 
 from their dwellings ; just as, in Europe, we place 
 horse-shoes against our doors, as preservatives from 
 witches, and, of course, from the ' evil eye,' and 
 from all other evil things. Crocodiles of twenty-four 
 feet in length are spoken of; but I never saw one 
 exceeding fourteen, or eighteen at the utmost. By the 
 way, the crocodile, having seized its prey upon the 
 land, goes into the water to eat it ; and physiologists 
 have remarked a peculiar structure in its gullet, con- 
 sisting in a valve, which, while it is chewing its food, 
 can totally close the passage, so as to prevent the 
 spontaneous entrance of water, by means of which the 
 animal would otherwise be drowned. The voice of the 
 crocodile is a hollow roar, which, like the croaking of 
 frogs, in Europe, is to be heard along the banks of the 
 rivers at evening. The crocodiles smell strong-lv of 
 musk, and thus scent the places where they are; and 
 this, among other uses, affords an additional warning 
 of their presence. — If I compare the use of the croco- 
 dile's eggs in Africa with that of the horse-shoes in 
 Europe, it is because I remember that the horse was 
 once as sacred in Europe, as the crocodile either in 
 modern Africa, or in ancient Egypt." 
 • " You speak much of the beauty of the vegetable 
 kingdom in Africa," observed Mr. Paulett?* 
 
 " And beautiful it is," said Mr. Hartley ; " but I am 
 so bad a botanist, that I could give you few particulars. 
 I propose, now, however, to hasten toward a close of 
 my sketch, though not without omitting a multitude of 
 
 H 
 
146 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 things which might interest you ; and after bringing 
 the Negro natives once more, and chiefly in agreeable 
 aspects, before you, to conclude by touching upon 
 some of the darker dyes of their history. 
 
 " The traveller whom I so much quote gives a strik- 
 ing account of a series of occurrences within the space 
 of twenty-four hours, at Coolfo, in NyfFee, where the 
 population is partly Pagan and partly Mohammedan ; 
 in which we have, first, the drunkenness and corres- 
 ponding excesses, common, in all rude countries, to 
 the celebration of a religious festival ; then, the cala- 
 mities of a tornado; and, then, the benevolent zeal of 
 the late drunkards and revellers, to mitigate the afflic- 
 tions of the sufferers by the storm ! The festival of the 
 New Moon is kept alike by Pagans and Mohamme- 
 dans ; and, upon the occasion referred to, a flourish of 
 trumpets having announced the appearance, and pro- 
 claimed the holiday, thousands of both sexes, from the 
 neighbouring towns and villages, flocked into the city 
 the next morning, to share in the devotions and festi- 
 vities. Men and boys, old women and young maidens, 
 slave and free, Mohammedan and Pagan, forgot all 
 distinctions of rank, age, and worship; and, joining 
 in the song and dance, drank palm-wine and other 
 country liquors, and, before the morning was well over, 
 became universally more than moderately tipsy. In 
 the afternoon, groups might be seen, rambling from 
 one end of the city to the other, dancing, capering, 
 tumbling, and hallooing; and others scarcely able to 
 stand, or even totally insensible: some flung into the 
 river by their boisterous companions, and dragged out 
 again half drowned ; some smiling their breasts, and 
 calling upon the name of the Prophet ; others hurrying 
 
ITS ROBIN-RCD-BREAST. 147 
 
 about in every direction, fighting, praying, laughing, 
 weeping; but all., from the governor and his ladies, to 
 the meanest bondmen and slaves; — all drunk, in a 
 greater or less degree! But, while the revels were thus 
 proceeding, the atmosphere gradually changed: not a 
 breath of air was to be felt, and the intensity of the 
 sun's rays threatened conflagration to the tenantless 
 huts of the people. About five or six o'clock, a sultry 
 haze obscured the firmament. After an hour or two, 
 this dispersed, and was succeeded by a solemn fearful 
 calm; tlie revellers still enjoying their frolic, and loud 
 bursts of merriment resounding from every c^uarter of 
 the town. At length, in the eastern horizon, a small 
 black cloud discovered itself, slowly rising toward the 
 zenith. No sooner, however, had it been seen, than 
 faint flashes of lightning, and distant peals of thun- 
 der, following in a rapid succession, declared the ap- 
 proach of the tornado. The people, at last, became 
 sensible of their danger ; and, in a moment, all was con- 
 fusion and flight. The music and dancing suddenly 
 ceased; the drunken became sober; a deep, wild, 
 thrilling cry was raised by the women, and answered 
 by screams of affright from the children and young 
 persons. Meanwhile, the peals of thunder incessantly 
 o-rew louder and more appalling, and the lightning 
 more intolerably vivid. The clouds in the east momen- 
 tarily rolled onward in wider and heavier masses ; a 
 large portion of the heavens was presently clothed in 
 almost midnight darkness ; and, now, the western hori- 
 zon suddenly opened, and what seemed a sea of liquid 
 fire, streaming from that point, added a sterner and 
 yet more dreadful grandeur to the firmament ; exposing 
 by its yellowish glare all the blackness and horror of 
 the t^eneral scene. The sable curtain, which overhung 
 
 H 2 
 
148 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 their heads, was rent asunder, shortly after, with a 
 frightful explosion ; while the shuddering war-cry, and 
 the tumult and wailings of the multitude, mingled with 
 the hollow blast of the tempest, produced an indescriba- 
 ble effect, and awoke exalted but painful and even fear- 
 ful emotions of the soul. At the same instant, the town 
 of Bali, at a short distance from Coolfo, and contain- 
 ing about eleven hundred houses, burst into flames, 
 beneath the touch of the electric fluid ; and now, multi- 
 tudes that had hitherto remained in their houses at 
 that place, rushed toward Coolfo ; while the piercing 
 cries of the terrified fugitives, penetrating dismally into 
 the city, and re-echoed by thousands of human voices, 
 produced a union of sounds which caused even the 
 domestic animals to shrink with apprehension. 
 
 " The storm at length subsided ; the fury of the ele- 
 ments became spent; the voices of the people ceased ; 
 and the remainder of the night was passed in peace 
 and silence. In the morning, the purified air was 
 more than usually fresh and pleasant; but the earth 
 was covered with the relics of the victims of the even- 
 ing's commotion. Superb trees, through the trunks of 
 which, if hollowed, coaches might have been driven, 
 lay torn up by their roots, and their gigantic branches 
 shivered into splinters ; while others, still standing, 
 were blackened by the lightning, and stripped of all 
 their leaves. Fragments and roofs of huts, many of 
 them still smoking, were scattered in every direction ; 
 and here and there lay the dead body of a bird or a 
 beast which had perished in the storm. 
 
 " But, through the midst of all these ruins of the 
 works of man and nature, proceeded a band of suf- 
 ferers still more capable of appealing (and not in vain, 
 even in Africa, and to Pagans and to Mohammedans), 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-EREAST. 149 
 
 to the string-s of human sympathy. The inhabitants 
 of Bali came to Coolfo, to tell their tale of distress, 
 and to solicit the assistance of their neighbours. 
 Among other pitiable incidents, they related that 
 several of their towns-women had been overtaken and 
 destroyed by the flames, while in the act of running 
 from them with their children upon their backs; and 
 it was thought that many men, also, not since heard 
 of, had perished in the same tender office. One aged 
 individual, hurrying from the threatened destruction, 
 snatched up a little boy, who, with shrieks of terror, 
 ran across his path ; but, just as he had reached the 
 outskirts of the burnino- town, and was consfratulatino- 
 himself and his charge with their mutual escape, a 
 blazing mass, driven by the wind, dashed both of 
 them to the earth, and scorched them to death, in 
 sight of their distracted friends. All that the people 
 of Bali had to say, those of Coolfo listened to with 
 tears; and help was given to them with benevolence 
 and zeal. Very speedily, the huts of Bali were re- 
 erected, over the ruins of those which had been de- 
 stroyed ; and, within a month or two, the people, by 
 their general merriment and vivacity, might seem to 
 have forgotten, and to be able to make every one else 
 forget, that any misfortune had happened in the place I 
 The skies were not more returned to their calmness, 
 than the people to their mirth. What was even better 
 than this, it had been shown that the festivals of the 
 Xew Moon were never celebrated without religious 
 effect; that whatever human infirmities may seem to 
 disgrace them — that whatever occasional excesses may 
 furnish food for sour observations upon thier merits, 
 substantial religious duties are upheld by the worship 
 to which they belong ; and that to the eye of an all-see- 
 
150 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 in^ Divinity, if the worshipper, at one moment, dis- 
 graces his faith by an unseemly irregularity ; at the 
 next, he can adorn it with all the lustre of a heavenly 
 compassion! But it is thus that, through universal 
 nature, storm and sunshine, suffering and peace, vice 
 and virtue, incessantly alternate ; while, as a whole, 
 that whole is always found worthy of an ever-wise and 
 ever-merciful Creator; — always one predominating-, 
 though never an unbroken scene, — of peace, of beauty, 
 and of virtue V 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 What are the stars? There is the sun, the sun. 
 
 And the most patient brilliance of the moon ; 
 
 And stars by thousands? bysche shklley. 
 
 Though, during the week past, I had sometimes ven- 
 tured into Mr. Gubbins's garden, and even sometimes 
 peeped in at his door, not forgetting the kind words 
 of his daughter, who, still more than the rest, besought 
 me, when I was about to receive my liberty, to be sure 
 to come again, and not to be frightened, nor think that 
 I was in any further danger at their house ; still I con- 
 fess that I felt a little shy of all the premises, and had 
 not yet been able to overcome, either the disagreeable 
 recollections of my captivities, nor some feeling of ap- 
 prehension which clung close to me, and governed me. 
 I went, as I have said, and I looked in, and I had full 
 confidence in every one but Mr. Gubbins ; yet the whole 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 1-^1 
 
 place was now no lon.^er, in my eye, that hospitable and 
 '^ancient dwelling," where, as the song beautifully says, 
 
 " the wearv traveller loves to call ;" 
 
 SO, that I approached it almost tremblingly, and left it 
 very soon. 
 
 In proportion, however, as the occurrences to which 
 I had been subjected, estranged me from the mansion 
 of the school, so the accident of my introduction to 
 the farm-house, even by tlie hands of ^Ir. Gubbins, 
 led me insensibly into the new resort which that 
 dwelling-place opened to me, and had made assisting 
 to my comfort; for, whether for good or for evil, we 
 easily become familiar v>ith what we know, and at- 
 tached to that with which we become familiar. It may 
 seem wayward and contradictory, perhaps, that even 
 the frequent visits of ^Ir. Gubbins, and by turns, of 
 all the Gubbinses, to my pleasant haunt, the abode of 
 their especial friends, did not discourage the arrange- 
 ment, or that I could willingly meet abroad, those 
 whom I partially shrunk from at their home ; but I felt, 
 no doubt, a secret sense of security from the protection 
 of Mowbray's house; and, though without examining 
 my own thoughts, considered that the latter was neu- 
 tral ground, and that, even if the strangers had been 
 enemies, I now met them beneath the shelter of ano- 
 ther's roof. 
 
 From this cause, then, though surrounded by fresh 
 scenery, I had often still before me Mr. Gubbins, as 
 the principal actor in the tragedy or comedy, or seri- 
 ous or sentimental drama; or the orations, instructive 
 or amusing, of every passing day. There existed, at 
 the moment of which I am speaking, a marvellous 
 alarm, throughout the village, from the predicted 
 
152 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 appearance of that rare kind of celestial visitant, a 
 Comet ; and the same, as I learned from all the village 
 gossip, was prevalent, more or less, throughout the 
 kingdom, town and country both together. A farmer, 
 it was reported, a leaseholder in a neighbouring coun- 
 ty, apprehensive that the whole globe was about to be 
 destroyed, had wisely taken ship for America, as a 
 place of security ; and one or two of the children of 
 Farmer Mowbray, full of their own projected voyage 
 into the other hemisphere, and full, also, of the frights 
 and fancies which they heard of from every neighbour, 
 and discussed with all their fellows of the National 
 and Sunday Schools; partly rejoiced in the similar 
 means of safety which lay before themselves, and 
 partly foi*sook all other topics and diversions, to ques- 
 tion their father and mother, and still more Mr. Gub- 
 bins, about the time, the manner, and the certainty of 
 the world's being drowned, or burned alive, or driven 
 out of the reach of the sun, or split into a thousand 
 pieces, by the force, or fire, or other disturbance by 
 land or water, or by war, disease, or poverty, through 
 the power of the approaching Comet. The reader, in 
 commencing the pages of my history, has hardly ex- 
 pected to learn from me any thing descriptive of the 
 Stars or Comets ; but it was always my plan to set 
 before him, not merely the humble adventures which 
 affected myself, but every thing remarkable which, in 
 the interval embraced, came to my eyes or ears, and 
 promised to help in the way of pleasure, or of virtue, 
 or of wisdom ; and the learning of the skies is that to 
 which the thread of my narrative now leads. It was 
 introduced at the farm-house by the anxious looks 
 and eager speech of the farmer's second son, who, 
 upon this occasion, came home at the mid-day hour 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 153 
 
 of twelve, aghast with the intelligence which he had 
 just heard, as he drove the team at plough. 
 
 " Father," said panting Tom, " I am very glad that 
 we are going to a foreign country ; for I am sure that 
 there is no hope left in England, now that the Comet 
 is coming !" 
 
 "Yes!" cried out, now, even the rosy Peggy; "and 
 blind Rachel told me, last half-holiday, that the comic 
 would be sure to set all the world on fire !" 
 
 " How foolish, Peggy," hastily interrupted the 
 w hite-haired Jack, from the opposite side of the warm 
 and spacious chimney ; " how foolish, Peggy, to say 
 that the comic will set the world on fire, when every 
 body knows that it will drown it all dead w ith water !" 
 — For, here, as at Burford Cottage, each child was apt 
 to imao:ine itself much wiser than the other ! 
 
 " I don't believe a word," resumed Tom, " about 
 the Comet's drowning or burning the world ; but it is 
 certain that it will cause the poor folk to starve, and 
 bloody battles to be fought, and a great plague, which 
 will kill man and beast. So, I am very glad that we are 
 going beyond the sea, for there is trouble enough, 
 already, among us, and the poor can hardly live, and 
 you know, father that you and all of us are in trouble; 
 and the people are sick, and don't want the plague, to 
 make them die faster than they do 1" 
 
 " But, if either Peggy's story, or Jack's," said Far- 
 mer ]Mowbray (smiling at the credulity of the infants, 
 and quite as much so at that of their elder brother, 
 Tom) ; " if either of those stories is the true one to 
 believe; or, if the Comet is every where to knock 
 down man and beast; in that case, it will be of no 
 use, I am afraid, John, to quit England upon account 
 of the Comet; for Van Diemen's Land, it is probable, 
 
 H 3 
 
1'34 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 would be drowned or burnt along with the rest of the 
 world !" 
 
 " O yes, father," resumed John ; " I know that well 
 enough, and I only talked of the water, as just such 
 another silly story as Peggy's about fire. But very 
 sensible people really say that the Comet will do 
 nothing but sink wages, and blight the crops, and 
 breed famine and sickness, and make every body 
 miserable ; and, besides all that, that it will bring 
 war, and spread trouble all over the country : and 
 that is the reason why I think it a good thing that we 
 are going away !" 
 
 " Depend upon it, my good Tom," interrupted 
 Mr. Gubbins, " that the whole of what you have said 
 is just as foolish, or pretty nearly so, as either of the 
 stories about fire and water; so that I won't have my 
 pretty little Peggy's nice story, about the world on 
 fire, too hastily put aside, only to make way for 
 others about war and famine! The appearance of a 
 Comet, my good Tom, would most likely give occasion 
 to more of these stories, but that it happens so seldom, 
 and so irregularly (as far as we have yet been able 
 to observe), and is therefore so little understood, both 
 as to its causes and consequences." 
 
 " But tell us, Master Ephraim," said Farmer Mow- 
 bray, " what you really think yourself about the con- 
 sequences of the appearance of a Comet? Mind, I don't 
 ask you, now, what you think about the causes, or 
 even about the nature, of those ' blazing stars.' " 
 
 " Then," replied Mr. Gubbins, " there is but one 
 thing which seems to me certain ; and that is, that the 
 consequence of the approach of a Comet, other circum- 
 stances equal, must be an increase of the warmth of the 
 season. We derive heat from the moon, the planets, and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 155 
 
 even the fixed stars, as well as from the sun ; and, no 
 doubt, the presence of a Comet in our part of the hea- 
 vens must increase the heat of our atmosphere. But tliis 
 increase of heat, in some seasons and circumstances, 
 may happen to be an evil; and I should add, that the 
 Comet's heat, by increasing evaporation, may have its 
 effect upon the quantity of rain : and thus far, a Comet 
 may either threaten or comfort us with the promise of 
 either fire or water. During a considerable cometary 
 appearance which I remember, there was no other con- 
 sequence or accompaniment, that I am even yet aware 
 of, than the production of a remarkably warm and fine 
 autumn." 
 
 " Do they not say, ^Ir. Gubbins," inquired the 
 farmer's w ife, " that we are to have tico Comets this 
 year ?" 
 
 "They do," answered Mr. Gubbins; "one, which 
 they call the Comet of Encke (that is, of the astrono- 
 mer of that name, who discovered its foiTuer appear- 
 ance) ; but which is not expected, however, to be seen 
 from this Northern Hemisphere of the earth; and 
 another, called, for a reason like the former, the Comet 
 of Biela, and which, it is true, is expected, from the 
 calculations, to make, at its nearest point, an extraor- 
 dinarily near approach, uoi to the earth itself, but only 
 to its orbit, or road upon which it travels ; and even 
 this no nearer than fifty millions of miles : and, to form 
 some idea of the extent of that distance (though, at 
 last, a poor one), you may recollect, that the whole 
 diameter of the earth (or length of a line drawn 
 through the globe, from one of its sides to the other), 
 is reckoned at no more than eight thousand miles, or 
 less, by a fifth, than the hundredth part of a million ; 
 or, that this distance of fifty millions of miles, stretched 
 
156 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 out into universal space, is equal to eight millions two 
 hundred and fifty thousand times the whole length or 
 breadth of the earth ! It is true that, after all, we may 
 be said to form no idea whatever of such distances, 
 intervals, or spaces, because they can scarcely be 
 compared with any thing that we know; and it is also 
 true, that consequently we are in some degree unable to 
 judge of the distance at which a Comet may or may 
 not exercise an influence upon the temperature of our 
 atmosphere and earth ; but, at least, this computation 
 of distance may serve to remove every fear that the 
 Comet of Biela will touch our planet. You see that, 
 when it is nearest to the earth, it will be distant almost 
 eight millions and a quarter of times the length of the 
 whole earth itself, from one pole to the other, as the 
 crow would fly, or a ship sail!'' 
 
 " By the way," continued Mr. Gubbins, " (and the 
 knowledge of the frequency and regularity of Comets 
 is a great remover of our terrors) it is at present under- 
 stood, that upon an average of years, there are two 
 cometary appearances in our system in each year; 
 though for want of earlier observation and instruments, 
 only five hundred are recorded since the Christian 
 era; or, little more than one-fourth of the estimated 
 number of so long a period." 
 
 " But the times of their appearance," said Mrs. Mow- 
 bray, " are still thought uncertain?" 
 
 " Quite so," answered Mr. Gubbins ; " unless, in- 
 deed, there should be reason for the calculation which 
 has been attempted concerning the most remarkable 
 Comet of modern history; that of the year 1680." 
 
 " Pray," said Mrs. Mowbray, "what is the calcula- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " There was a remarkable Comet," returned her 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 157 
 
 informant, "in the year of the assassination of Julius 
 Caesar; that is, in the year 43 before the Christian era. 
 There was another in the year 531 of that era; a third 
 in the year 1106 ; and a fourth, as I have said, in the 
 year 1680. Now, from the year 43 before the Chris- 
 tian era, to the year 531 after it, is five hundred and 
 seventy-four years; from the year 531, to the year 
 1106, is five hundred and seventy-five years; and 
 from the year 1106 to the year 1680, is five hundred 
 and seventy-four years: so that, supposing all these 
 appearances to have been reappearances of the same 
 Comet, we should thus ascertain, that one, and that 
 the largest Comet of our system, or that which, in the 
 course of its revolution, approaches the nearest to us, 
 and has always been the especial subject of alarm, — 
 that this Comet performs that revolution, or goes from 
 us and returns to us, once in about five hundred 
 and seventy-five yeai*s; a period nineteen times as 
 long as that of the revolution of the planet Saturn, 
 and nearly seven times that of the great and distant 
 planet Uranus, or Georgium Sidus ; a period, in 
 short, which, if admitted, leaves us no room to expect 
 the return of the Comet of 1680 (sometimes called 
 Halley's Comet, and that which was the occasion of 
 the bringing forth the two wild theories of Whiston 
 and Halley respectively), nor of that of any other 
 very remarkable or alarming Comet (so to call it) 
 till about the year 2255 ; and, for a degree of further 
 present comfort, it may be as well, before we go 
 on, to make mention, that the Comet of Encke, 
 which accordino" to elaborate calculations, is said to 
 be the particular Comet likely, after an almost endless 
 succession of revolutions (always coming nearer and 
 nearer), to make this fatal visit to our earth ; — this 
 
158 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 most terrible visit of all visits, — the only one of the 
 kind, the date of which astronomers are in any de- 
 gree able to anticipate, and — as the equal result of 
 the same calculations, this cannot happen, as they 
 themselves say, before the end of the next two hun- 
 dred and nineteen millions of years; a distant evil, and 
 which itself is never likely to arrive, if the calculation 
 I have mentioned is well-founded ; and which would 
 prove, from the uniformity of the periods of cometary 
 evolutions, that they keep uniformly to their ancient, 
 though eccentric orbits, neither expand ini^ nor con- 
 tracting their limits, nor changing their direction ! 
 But it may possibly, in the meantime, be worth our 
 while to note, that this assumed average cometary 
 period, of five hundred and seventy-five years, differs 
 but little from the famous Babylonish cycle of six 
 hundred ! — I vouch not for the truth of any of the 
 calculations; but, supposing that this last Comet, or 
 that one, or that several of the Comets of our system, 
 make revolutions of so great a length of time, while, in 
 reality, two Comets, upon an average, become annually 
 visible, how many in number must not the Comets of 
 our system be !" 
 
 "They must far out-number," said one of the com- 
 pany, " the whole of all our planets !" 
 
 "Very far, indeed," added Mr. Gubbins; "even 
 at the most moderate reckoning ; and notwithstand- 
 ing that, at present, we reckon eleven planets, in- 
 stead of the five of even modern astronomy, and the 
 seven of ancient; six having been added to the cata- 
 logue since the year 1780'^-. The supposition, in the 
 
 * Herscbel's discover_y, or that of his sister, of the first of these 
 six, was made upon the 18th of March, 1781. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 159 
 
 meantime, of so great a number of Comets in our 
 system, all moving round the sun in eccentric orbits 
 (that is, in paths or orbits which cross the paths or 
 orbits of the planets), and yet striking against no 
 planet; offers a fresh and most magnificent testimony 
 to the amazing order, or refined organization, amid 
 which the system of the universe performs its work : 
 for, under this notion, how much greater than other- 
 wise would be the number of chances (if chance had 
 the least share in the cjuestion) that some Comet or 
 other should cross the path or orbit of a planet, at the 
 very moment when the planet was in that precise 
 point of its orbit! Again, if it be really true, that any 
 one of the Comets of our system makes a revolution 
 of nearly six hundred of our years, as to duration 
 of time; what must be the extent of that revolution 
 as to space ; or, into space, how far must not that 
 Comet travel from our sun, yet belonging, all the 
 while, to its system, and never approaching so near to 
 any other fixed star or sun, as to fall into its attraction, 
 and be prevented from returning to the point whence 
 it set out? If it is to be believed (as is asserted by the 
 philosophy of our day), that light is a body, and travels 
 at the rate of more than four hundred miles in a 
 second of time ; and if you listen also to what is 
 described concerning the velocity of the motion of a 
 Comet, tell me, I beseech you, how many miles would 
 a Comet run into space, in a period of three hundred 
 of our years, or about the time required for its journey 
 out; and, to assist, at least in a small degree, the 
 powers of your imagination upon so vast a subject, it 
 will be well to remember, in company with the fore- 
 going, that some astronomers estimate the distance of 
 space, between the earth and the most conspicuous 
 
IGO BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 (and, therefore, as they say, the nearest) of the fixed 
 stars, as being equivalent to (if not exceeding) two hun- 
 dred thousand times the diameter of the earth ; and 
 that, taking, in round numbers, this diameter at eight 
 thousand miles, the most moderate calculation makes 
 the distance of such a star, one thousand six hundred 
 millions of miles; or, nearly thirty thousand times the 
 distance of the moon. Many other cjuestions, how- 
 ever, concerning Comets, appear to me to be suggested 
 by this last ; but with none of these will I now trouble 
 you." 
 
 " But let us suppose, for an instant," said Mowbray, 
 " the possibility of the earth's receiving a blow from a 
 Comet ; and, in such an event, what would you imagine 
 to be the consequence?" 
 
 " The consequence, or consequences, in that case," 
 said Mr. Gabbins, "would much depend both upon the 
 size and the material in which a Comet really consists. 
 If the Comet which should strike the earth were 
 much smaller than itself, I need not say, that the 
 effect of the blow might be proportionably small ; 
 but if it were as large, or even larger, and yet not 
 so hard nor so heavy as the earth, still the effect of 
 the blow would be proportionably small. Many esti- 
 mates and calculations of these effects have been made 
 upon the supposition that the density of the body of a 
 Comet is equal to the density of the body of the earth ; 
 notwithstanding that astronomers are generally agreed 
 that the real densities are by no means equal ; and that 
 in truth, the body of a Comet consists in some very thin 
 or rare substance. Now, you know, that if a ball of 
 wool were struck against a much smaller ball of lead, 
 the ball of lead would neither be split, nor flattened, 
 nor show any mark or impression upon its surface. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 161 
 
 nor even be put out of its place; unless the impelling 
 force of the ball of wool exceeded the resisting force 
 which had previously kept the leaden ball where it 
 stood. I mean, that the impelling force of a Comet 
 could make no alteration in the figure, place or motion 
 of the earth, unless its substance were harder and 
 more dense, than the substance of the earth, and its 
 force greater than the force with which the present 
 place and motions of the earth are maintained; — 
 truths from which I am disposed to infer, that in the 
 absence of any thing like real knowledge upon those 
 subjects, modern astronomy, in its speculations upon 
 the horrors of the imagined catastrophe, is almost as 
 childish as the ancient, when, from the appearance of 
 a Comet, even without supposing a blow, it yet trem- 
 bled for a variety of evils I" 
 
 " I think so, too,'^ said Mowbray; "and, though the 
 mind will be busy, at times, and invent we know not 
 what unfounded notions, to explain the past, the pre- 
 sent, or the future; yet I see neither use nor ground 
 for the contemplation of these imaginary disasters 
 from the operation of Comets, any more than from the 
 other bodies in the heavens ! What think you, neigh- 
 bour Gubbins; whether it is not a great deal more 
 likely that Comets have been made to sustain thincrs, 
 than to destroy them ^" 
 
 " Much more likely, certainly ; but this notion, of 
 one heavenly body striking against another, and 
 thereby occasioning fractures and disruptions, is a 
 favourite with modern astronomy ; and I recollect 
 one particular theory of the kind, offered with a 
 basis of mathematical demonstration, and so beautiful 
 as taken by itself, and so easily separjible from the 
 more particular notion of such celestial catastrophes 
 
162 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 as those of which we have been speaking, that I will 
 not omit to mention it ; and in truth, I shall be dis- 
 appointed, if the suggestion of it does not afford as 
 much pleasure to you, as it does, and has afforded to 
 me. You are aware that the planets of our system, of 
 which the earth is one, are very unequal, both in their 
 magnitudes, and in their distances from the sun ; in 
 the degree that seems to invite an idea of the absence 
 of all symmetry, and, if I may so say, of all method, 
 in their formation and disposition ; leaving it to be 
 conceived that they are severally held in their places, 
 and enabled to perform their evolutions, only because it 
 so happens that they are so formed, and so arranged, as 
 to effect those objects. But the astronomer to whom 
 T refer, suggests, and offers what he considers mathe- 
 matical demonstration of the truth of his theory, that 
 the magnitudes and distances in question are such, 
 that these actual magnitudes and distances, and no 
 other, could give the solar system its completeness 
 and operation ; going so far as to insist that the masses 
 or magnitudes of the numerous small planets only 
 lately discovered to exist, and to belong to the system, 
 amount collectively to the precise quantity and weight 
 of matter, and fill tlie precise point of space, in which 
 ought, upon theory, to be found, either a very large 
 planet, or else many small ones, composing, together, 
 a mass, exactly equivalent to that imaginary planet, 
 and to the collective masses of the small planets really 
 and recently discovered. The small planets actually 
 existing, my astronomer is speedily tempted to derive 
 from an assumed breaking into fragments of the ideal 
 planet which he supposes, but the place and office of 
 which they thoroughly supply; because, collectively, 
 they still amount to the same mass, and travel in the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 163 
 
 same orbit, that is, move at the same indispensable 
 distances from the sun, and from their sister planets, 
 as those assigned to their vastly larger original. BufFon, 
 before this philosopher, had already imagined that our 
 own planet might have been anciently no more than 
 an irregular fragment, struck off from the body of the 
 sun, and rolled into roundness by the mere effect of 
 the motion in w liich it has ever since been kept. But, 
 without lending ourselves too readily to this descrip- 
 tion of hypothesis, by which the shattering of old 
 worlds, and the structure of new ones from their broken 
 pieces, is so familiarly and readily explained ; what I 
 stop at is, the beautiful order which the first part of 
 the astronomer's theory infers, in the composition and 
 arrangement of the solar system, in place of that dis- 
 order which, as I have remarked, the apparently irre- 
 gular magnitudes, both of the planets and llieir orbits, 
 might suggest upon slighter inspection ; an order and 
 a beauty of which the system is thus made to display 
 a new example, among the myriads which the whole 
 universe, in every part, presents ; and of which examples 
 the universe itself is only the most stupendous!" 
 
 ]Mr. Gubbins's astronomy, sublime as was the spe- 
 culation upon which he had now entered, fell by no 
 means in waste upon his company; for, with the help 
 of a few marbles, a few peas, and a morsel of chalk, he 
 readily erected a planetarium sufficient for the assistance 
 of the eye ; and besides, his efforts were powerfully 
 helped by that general eagerness for knowledge which 
 is so common to the human mind, in persons gifted 
 with their portion of mind, whatever be their age or 
 their condition ; by the intelligent curiosity so early 
 springing to life in by far the greater part of children; 
 and by a share of that affecting eagerness so often dis- 
 
164 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 played by persons poorer and less taught than any of 
 those now present, when any transient opportunity pre- 
 sents itself for gathering even a crumb of that informa- 
 tion, from feasting upon which their state precludes and 
 has precluded them. 
 
 " And now," resumed Mr. Gubbins, " having left 
 behind us the cjuestion of splitting the planets into 
 pieces, by means of the shock of Comets, we may spend 
 a hasty thought upon the other mischiefs which these 
 bodies have been thought to inflict ; either, as our 
 young friends have heard it reported, the setting the 
 world on fire, or else the drowning it with water. These 
 latter conceits, like those previously mentioned, and, 
 indeed, like most others, in all branches of human 
 inquiry, begin in the schools of the philosophers, how- 
 ever low they may be found at last, among what are 
 commonly held the * untaught' people ; but the people 
 without doors only repeat, at second or at fiftieth hand, 
 what has been first said within. Now, the philosophers, 
 in imagining such powerful eflfects from the attractive 
 forces, or from the comparative nearness of visible 
 Comets, have made no proper account of even their own 
 calculations of their velocities. Whatever might be 
 the mass and density of matter contained in the body 
 and tail of a Comet (in proportion to which, if at 
 rest, or at comparative rest, should be its power of 
 attraction), the immense velocity with which it is 
 known to move is an answer to all the fears which 
 may be conjured up from this part of a Comet's history. 
 To give effect to the power of attraction, the attracting 
 and attracted bodies must always remain for at least 
 some minute space of time in the required contiguity 
 with each other. Take, for example, a common load- 
 stone and some steel-filings ; and if you move the load- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 165 
 
 Stone past the filing's with extreme velocity, the former 
 will exercise no part of its attractive influence upon 
 the latter; for the velocity countervails the attraction. 
 From the same cause, a Comet, to exercise an attractive 
 power upon any point of the sea or earth which form 
 the surface of our globe, it ought to hang- over, or be 
 poised above that point, with exact perpendicularity, 
 like a hawk or a kingfisher over their prey, for some 
 given space of time ; for time, as well as matter, is 
 essential, as we have seen, to the result. Now, a 
 Comet, moving with the velocity or swiftness which is 
 always observable in its progress, can never remain 
 perpendicularly or vertically over any one point of the 
 earth or sea for a single instant; and, with respect to 
 all other points than that over which it is actually 
 passing, its position is more or less oblique or slanting 
 to those points, and its influence upon them, therefore, 
 nearly, if not absolutely nothinsr." 
 
 " I think we can understand that, my worthy friend," 
 said Farmer ^Mowbray. 
 
 " Dismissing, then, the question of attraction, to 
 which belongs that, also, of a Comet's drowning the 
 world, or any part of it, by raising the sea, in the 
 manner in which the tides are caused by the moon — a 
 planet, by the w ay, which, if it is inconceivably smaller 
 than a Comet, is at the same time, so much nearer to 
 us, and so much longer over every given point; — dis- 
 missing, I say, the Cj[uestion of attraction, as we had 
 before dismissed the question of collision, let us next 
 (and to make a finish), attack what we may call the 
 question oi ignition — that is, the possibility of a Comet's 
 firing the earth, not by actual touch, but by simple com- 
 munication of its heat. We will allow, then, to raise 
 the argument, that the efflux of cometary heat, or heat 
 
166 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 vvhicli a Comet sends from itself, might be amply 
 sufficient, even at the immense distance at which alone, 
 it has hitherto been seen to move, to produce the 
 burning or combustion of our planet; but, here, as 
 before, the velocity of the motion interferes, and re- 
 moves the danger ; because time is necessary for the 
 influence of heat and cold, as well as for that of the 
 attractive power. If I take a heated poker, and hold 
 it, for a certain iime (which we will suppose to be very 
 short), at a certain distance from your skin, or from 
 your clothes, I shall, perhaps, burn the one, or kindle 
 flames in the other ; but if, on the contrary, I pass the 
 heated poker, with extreme, or even with moderate 
 velocity or rapidity, at the same distance from your 
 clothes, or your skin, I shall do no injury to either; 
 and this because no point upon the surface of the 
 poker is sufficiently long in a direct line with any 
 point of your clothes or skin, to cause them to receive 
 the communicable occasion of heat. What is true, too, 
 of heated bodies, is true of cold ones ; and, indeed, of 
 all bodies possessing (and which are without them?) 
 communicable qualities. Observe with what eagerness 
 an individual labouring under the sensation of faint- 
 ness seizes upon, and holds, for a continuance, to his 
 nostrils, any odorous substance presented by a by- 
 stander, and attempted to be hastily withdrawn! Time, 
 in this instance, as in the others, is needful for the 
 production of the desired effect. But, again, the pro- 
 lonsfed continuance of the same substance becomes, at 
 length, offensive ; for time, which, at the first, was need- 
 ful to enable it to exercise any pow er at all, goes on to 
 confer an excess of power w hich is oppressive ! But 
 we may learn, in this manner, from familiar examples, 
 some of the laws which regulate planets and Comets ; 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 167 
 
 and, in the instance before us, enough of them to 
 release our minds from the apprehension, that thi? 
 g'lobe is likely to be destroyed by the fire of even a 
 ' blazing- star/" 
 
 " And yet, still," said Farmer Mowbray, " do you 
 think it utterly impossible that a Comet may have some 
 sort of connection with such occurrences as wars, com- 
 motions, famine, or disease J"' 
 
 "By no means," proceeded ]\Ir, Gubbins ; "man, 
 like every thing- else upon the earth, is in so much 
 subjection to the ' skiey influences ;' he lives in so 
 much physical subjection to all the heavenly bodies; 
 and physical causes are so capable of prod ncino;- moral 
 effects ; that, after admitting what may chance to be 
 the physical effect of a Comet, I am bound to make 
 admission of its moral possibilities as well. In truth, 
 it is the real physical influence of the stars upon our 
 earth, which, though very differently to be explained 
 than as it is ignorantly set forth, is the foundation of 
 the whole fanciful pretensions of astrology, or of that 
 astrology, at least, which, for distinction-sake, is called 
 judicial, as supposed, though most erroneously, to en- 
 able its professors io judge of many future events with 
 which there is no real relation ; and it is, in general 
 terms, the certain proposition, that human crimes and 
 sorrows, and all other human circumstances, may be 
 the real effect, thougli in a physical manner only, of 
 physical or natural causes, that has procured, both for 
 astrology, and for the particular superstitions concern- 
 ins: blazing- stars, their lonof-established and lon*2-- 
 lingering footing with mankind ; for a natural pheno- 
 menon, though it is not (what superstition esteems it) 
 the mere sign or omen, or else the wilful and immedi- 
 ate author of a moral event, — may yet be its absolute 
 
168 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and natural cause. If a Comet, for example, or any 
 other natural body, by influencing the meteorology of 
 the earth, become the cause of a sickly or unfruitful 
 season, such an event will have its ulterior effects upon 
 the reasoning and temper of a people, and may thus 
 become productive of various human acts, in respect 
 of vvbich, the only error of the superstitious will be, to 
 mistake (as is very common) the cause for the effect, 
 and the effect for cause. We spoke, a little while ago, 
 of the Comet which appeared in the year of the death 
 of Julius Caesar. Now, that Comet was neither, as it 
 has been described, the sign that Caesar was to be 
 assassinated, nor the publication of the event, nor the 
 menace of divine revenge; but it is very possible, 
 nevertheless, that the Comet was the cause of Caesar's 
 death, or that, but for the Comet, Caesar would not 
 have been assassinated ! The year of Caesar's death 
 was distinguished, not only by the appearance of a 
 Comet, but by a cold, wet summer ; a faint sun ; a 
 watery or sickly sky ; and, what was the natural end of 
 those misfortunes, — a bad harvest, and, perhaps, an 
 unhealthy season. But these things, upon the prin- 
 ciples which we have admitted, may have had for 
 their cause the Comet ; and, these things, however 
 caused, would be attended, as is so usual, by public 
 discontent, and by public ill will toward those that 
 had the administration of affairs ; — so that, this sup- 
 posed, the steel of Brutus, either lifted under a share 
 of that public feeling-, or emboldened by its existence, 
 may have struck at the same Caesar, who, but for 
 the appearance of the Comet, might never have 
 been assassinated. The Roman people, through the 
 effect of the Comet, might be sufferers in food and 
 health ; and nothing is more common than for nations. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 169 
 
 either to ascribe the evils under which they sutler 
 from Xature, to the faults of their governors or go- 
 vernments; or, at the least, to be induced by iheir 
 sufferings to look with peculiar severity upon all those 
 faults, and to indulo^e in excesses, or at least in scrutiny, 
 from that sole cause. But, what I chiefly flatter myself 
 with is this ; that by bringing before you the now 
 acknowledged and established fact, that (small or great, 
 and visible or invisible to the naked eye) two appear- 
 ances of Comets, upon an average, occur in our heavens 
 annually, and that, by analogy, there have been nearly 
 four thousand since the commencement of the Christian 
 era, and four thousand, also, in every previous two 
 thousand years; what, I say, I chiefly flatter myself 
 with, is this ; that, from these facts you see sufficient 
 reason to conclude, that the appearances of Comets, 
 which are no more than ordinary events, neither fore- 
 run, nor have any other connexion with any of the 
 moral events of the earth upon which we live. It is, 
 indeed, in this tendency of the study of Xature, to 
 deliver human life from the agonies and burdens of 
 unfounded fears, that so much of the value of this 
 study, and of its artificial helps consists; for, as the 
 poet has it, knowledge, of the nature, either of men or 
 things, is the great remover of all prodigies : — 
 
 ' Nature well known, no prodigies remain : 
 Comets are regular, and Wharton plain!' " 
 
1*0 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. xin. 
 
 I have learned 
 To look on Nature, not as in the hour 
 Of thoughtless joath. wordsworth. 
 
 It was no longer after this, than the very day that 
 followed, when, much to my surprise, and a little, at 
 the first, to my alarm, who should I spy, as a visitor 
 at Burford Cottage, but my very familiar acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Gubbins; whose name, from one cause or 
 other, thus appears in almost every chapter of my 
 book I Happily, however, and as it very soon appeared, 
 I had nothing to fear from him upon this occasion ; 
 while, upon the other hand, my vanity was indulged 
 by hearing myself the subject of much discourse be- 
 tween the schoolmaster and his kind and polished 
 neighbour. 
 
 The success of Mr. Gubbins's experiment, to see 
 whether I could find my way home from Cobbler 
 Dykes^s, was still the wonder of the more curious part 
 of the village ; and when first I heard the voice that 
 had become rather too familiar to me, it was employed 
 in answering some questions from Mr. Paulett, as to 
 the management of the affair. 
 
 Mr. Paulett observed, " that he should never have 
 entertained a doubt concerning a Red-breast's returning 
 to its native haunts over the space of a small number 
 of miles; for, besides other reasons," said he, " though 
 not a bird of passage, in the largest sense of the phrase 
 
ITS ROBIN'-RED-BREAST. 171 
 
 (and especially as to its habits in England*), is still 
 capable of roaming for considerable distances, in search 
 of food, and for change of climate. But, as to its 
 haste to return home (half domesticated as it makes 
 itself in this countr}'), I should not wonder if, besides 
 its love of what it has been removed from, and besides 
 its means of recovering the road, there is a fear, also, 
 in a strange situation, which drives it Cjuickly back 
 again." 
 
 " I am not sure, sir,'' said Mr. Gubbins, " that I 
 know what you allude to as the fear P" 
 
 '•'That birds and beasts of the same species," an- 
 swered Mr. Paulett, " are far from being cordial with 
 each other, if they are in any manner rendered mutu- 
 ally strange, is a fact well known; and I think it very 
 probable that their feelings of this sort may make 
 them the enemies of such as are found in a strange 
 district or portion of country, to the degree, that a 
 stranger, forced into such a situation, would fly, throu2:h 
 fear, to his own district or country, with the least 
 possible delay. It is observed of dogs, that in tlie 
 streets and squares of Constantinople, where, as in 
 other cities, towns, and villages of Asia, Africa, and 
 Europe, they live in large numbers, by public encou- 
 ragement, but without particular masters or homes: 
 that those animals, upon some principle or mutual 
 understanding wholly undiscoverable by their human 
 neighbours, they divide the city and its suburbs into 
 districts among themselves ; and are never known to 
 pass out of their own district into any district of others: 
 '•' The dogs of Constantinople (as is related by a 
 modern English traveller) belong to everybody and to 
 nobody. The streets are their homes ; they are littere<I 
 
 * See Keeper's Travels, cbap. xx. 
 
 I 2 
 
172 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and reared in the streets. As they subsist entirely on 
 charity, and what they pick up, instinct teaches them 
 a division of labour ; and therefore, in the same manner 
 as a well regulated society of beggars has separate 
 walks for its members ; they divide the city and its 
 suburbs into districts. Were a dog found in a strange 
 quarter, he would infallibly be torn to pieces by the 
 resident dogs ; and so well are they aware of this, that 
 no argument — not even a bone of roast meat, — will 
 induce a dog to follow a person beyond his district; a 
 singular and well-authenticated fact. We caressed, 
 for experiment, one of these animals, whose post, with 
 many others, was near the Meleri Khan ; we daily fed 
 him, till he became fat and sleek, and carried his tail 
 high, and was no longer to be recognised for his 
 former self. With his physical, his moral qualities 
 improved. He lost his currishness, and when his 
 patrons approached, expressed gratitude by licking 
 their hands, &c. ; yet he would never follow them 
 beyond an imaginary limit, either way, where he 
 would stop, wag his tail, and look wistfully after them 
 till they were out of sight, and then return to his 
 post. Once only I saw him overstep his limit; he 
 was very hungry, and we were alluring him with 
 tempting food ; but he had not exceeded twenty yards 
 when he recollected himself, and ran hastily back* !' 
 Now I think it probable," continued Mr. Paulett, 
 " that in a wild state, all animals observe distinctions 
 of place of a similar kindf. It is an instinct (if we are 
 so to call it, and not more properly a practice from ex- 
 perience), which may be needful for their preservation ; 
 
 * Slade's Travels in Turkey, &c. 
 
 + The same distribution into districts is observed among the Wild 
 Dogs at this moment originating and multiplying in Van Diemen's 
 Land. 
 
ITS ROBTN-RED-BREAST. 173 
 
 first, as in the case of these Constantinopolitan dogs, 
 in keeping to themselves (that is, to the brethren of 
 the same community) that supply of food which the 
 place affords; and secondly, in securing their bodies 
 against violence, to which the same consideration of 
 food, and even of lodging and shelter, would expose 
 them from foreign invaders. The flocks, or rather clouds 
 of gannets, .se«-pelicans, or Solan geese, which, in the 
 summer season, inhabit the great insular rock of Ailsa 
 in the Frith of Clyde, while they dwell and migrate, 
 in general terms, always together ; yet, though their 
 rock, or place of lodging and shelter, is so large as to 
 rise eleven hundred feet above the level of the sea, 
 and to be much more than three thousand feet in 
 length, and two thousand feet in breadth ; and though 
 the ocean all around them, and its shoals of silver 
 herrings (still less capable of being counted than the 
 gannets, and than they and all their fellow-feeders upon 
 herrings), are open to them for food ; they still pre- 
 serve inviolably a separation of communities ; arrive 
 in the spring in separate though large parties; depart 
 in the autumn in separate though large parties ; live 
 and build upon the rock in the same separate parties, 
 and on separate parts ; and if, by the arrival of a boat, 
 a general alarm is given to the whole feathered popu- 
 lation, they take to their wings in separate clouds or 
 parties ; each party, as it wheels and screams around 
 and above the rock, in whiteness and in multitude most 
 like a snow-storm, occupies only its own district (so to 
 call it) in the air, above or below its fellows, and never 
 intermixes; just like the dogs of Constantinople and 
 elsewhere. I suspect, too, that there is the same natu- 
 ral instinct in mankind, or the same natural habit, 
 from whatever source arising ; first as to families, and 
 
174 BLRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 then as to tribes, races, neighbourhoods, and commu- 
 nities; and such as only gives way, or becomes soft- 
 ened and regulated, under the influence of civilization, 
 when the motives to the previous practice have lost 
 their force. It has often been observed, that in savage 
 and barbarous stages of society, to be a stranger, is to 
 be considered an enemy, and that only a neighbour is a 
 friend: in truth, these are the very meanings of the 
 words in question. I could say much, in proof of the 
 truth of what I assume, by showing, that it is against 
 this natural instinct, or this primitive habit in man, that 
 moralists and lawgivers have expressly laboured, in 
 insisting upon the rights of hospitality, which is the 
 virtue directly opposite to the vice referred to ; and 
 in the general inculcation of philanthropy , or of the 
 love of our fellow-creatures far and near. But the 
 real corrective of the vice, or at least of the habit, 
 is civilization, and the protection and resources which 
 it gives to those who enjoy it; thus removing their 
 fears as to the violence of strangers, or as to the 
 failure of food, or lodging, or shelter, from the pre- 
 sence and the wants of strangers. The fear of which 
 I speak, makes every nation jealous of the incursion 
 of foreigners within its frontier; makes it regard every 
 such incursion as an invasion ; and makes it resent 
 every such invasion by force of arms. I think, then, 
 that animals act by their species as men act by their 
 species, and through the same motives and neces- 
 sities; and that what I speak of is really a natural 
 instinct, or rather an experimental principle, in men as 
 well as in the inferior animals, is, as I think, further 
 proved, by the fact, that the human imagination has 
 even ascribed a similar jealousy, and similar inhospi- 
 tality toward strangers, to the fairies, genii, gods, or 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREA.ST. 175 
 
 spirits, which it has also supposed to inhabit, though 
 invisibly, the same countries and districts as man- 
 kind. In Ireland, a tempest is sometimes ascribed 
 to the conflicts of the respective armies of fairies, 
 invading and repelling the invasions of each other, 
 from different provinces, counties, baronies, and town- 
 lands ; and this quite consistently with what has every 
 where been imagined of those imaginary personages, 
 and with what Shakspeare has put into the mouth of 
 Oberon, when that fairy complains, that the wranglings 
 between himself and his Titania had oppressed the 
 swains with winds and floods, and loss of harvests, and 
 every other misfortune of inverted and destructive sea- 
 sons. By the superstition thus observed in Ireland, 
 the same instinct is attributed to fairies, as that which, 
 in my view, is implanted in men ; and it is here that 
 we have the natural explanation (in addition to all 
 other) of the violence and barbarity with which the 
 Irish peasantry treat the foreigners or strangers who 
 attempt to settle among them ; that is, to hold lands, 
 or in any other manner to divide the means of sub- 
 sistence with them; and to the same instinct we are 
 to refer the clannish devotion and exclusiveness of the 
 Highland Scotch. I conclude, therefore, that your 
 Robin was too unsafe, even from his own species, 
 while in a strange district, not to make all the haste 
 home that he possibly could !" 
 
 " I doubt not but that you are right in this particu- 
 lar," said Mr. Gubbins ; " and yet I am perplexed that 
 you appear to allow so little to instinct, that wonderful, 
 and that incomprehensible guide of the inferior ani- 
 mals ?" 
 
 " I allow little or nothing more to instinct, in the 
 inferior animals, than in men. I think that they are 
 
176 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 guided, first by their sensations, and next by their 
 experience, just like men. It is certain that they can 
 change their habits and practices with a change of 
 circumstances and situation, just like men. It is true 
 that they can change them only to a certain extent ; 
 and this, also, is just like men. Instincts are impulses 
 and aptitudes operating without previous suggestion 
 either of experience or reason. Now instincts, thus 
 defined, have place in men, no less than in the infe- 
 rior animals; and in the inferior animals no more 
 than in mankind ; but the immeasurable advantages 
 of the latter, under all other aspects, and as compared 
 with even the most sagacious of their inferiors, enables 
 them to raise so vast a superstructure upon their 
 instincts, and as it were, to throw them so much out 
 of sight ; that, at last, they are prone to forget, both 
 that they have themselves any instincts at all, and that 
 the inferior animals have any thing in addition.*' 
 
 Mr. Paulett having thus explained himself a little, 
 as to his notions of instinct, and of its equal distri- 
 bution, and no more, among men and the inferior 
 animals; afterward mentioned, in the course of the 
 conversation as it followed, several anecdotes of such 
 animals (birds, beasts, fishes, and even reptiles), as 
 examples of the truths of which he professed himself 
 the advocate. 
 
 '' The capacity observable in numerous species of 
 animals," said he, " to receive new ideas, and to adopt 
 new modes of conduct, from their experience of and 
 with mankind, are conspicuous proofs (among many 
 others) of the respectable amount of their understand- 
 ing. Of examples of these kinds, in the horse and 
 dog, and in nearly all the several kinds of game, every 
 sportsman is able to furnish us with the most striking, 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 177 
 
 and those in considerable numbers; but the list is 
 capable of being extended, so as to include many 
 animals with which we have no ordinary intercourse, 
 and which yet readily mould themselves to it, when, 
 through some singular circumstance, they and men are 
 brought together. There must assuredly be a latent 
 sympathy subsisting between all living creatures what- 
 ever; though brought, for the most part, so rarely into 
 view !" 
 
 *' Speculations,'' said ^Ir. Gubbins, " have some- 
 times been entertained, as to the ideas which the 
 inferior animals form to themselves of mankind, and 
 of the causes of that confession of superiority which 
 they plainly make in our favour. It is no uncommon 
 opinion, that the eyes of the horse and dog are so con- 
 structed, that men appear to them much larger than 
 they really are ; and that hence we are to account for 
 the readiness of their obedience?" 
 
 " I have heard that story," replied Mr. Paulett, " not 
 only from children, but from men engaged in the care 
 of animals, and therefore familiar with their ways ; 
 but I am ashamed to think that any thing so silly 
 should ever have entered the human mind. The horse 
 and dog have acute or intense powers of vision ; this 
 has been observed by their human superiors; and 
 many curious fables, relating to both species of animal 
 (but of which, at present, I shall say no more), have 
 been founded upon the distinction ; but that, though 
 they see piercingly, they see things no larger than we 
 see them ourselves, is what the slightest reflection, 
 and the slightest observation, ought to convince us of! 
 How could a man and a horse or dog live and act 
 together, if objects appeared to tlie man and the beast 
 of different sizes i' In what predicament would be the 
 
 i3 
 
178 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 man, with his horse or dog, if the smallest gap in a 
 hedge or paling, or the lowest gateway of a building, 
 appeared to either of the latter a spacious or lofty 
 opening? On horseback, how often would not the 
 man be jammed between two friendly posts, which 
 his horse esteemed to stand some yards apart ; or 
 stunned by the blow of his head ao:ainst the lintel of a 
 door, which, to his horse, seemed elevated to the chim- 
 neys? Or, putting the man out of the question, what 
 mistakes should we not see dogs and horses daily com 
 mit, if their eyes showed them things differently and 
 larger than our own ; to-day, the horse attempting to 
 enter the door of a dog-kennel, or of a hen-roost, 
 as freely as that of his stable ; and, to-morrow, a dog 
 preparing to swim over a rill, all the water of which 
 were scarcely sufficient for him to lap ! But fantastic 
 explanations, such as these to which we are referring, 
 are all to be ascribed to one common error; that of 
 refusing to allow to animals their real powers, and 
 then supposing them to have imaginary ones ! Depend 
 upon it, that at least the dog and horse, and a large 
 proportion of other animals, see things as we see them 
 ourselves, though with various intensities of vision ; 
 and are affected by them in the same manner. But, 
 this admitted, it is the hitelligence, and not the corpo- 
 real bulk, which they see, and of which they feel the 
 mental effect, in the eye and carriage of the human 
 species, which subdues and even wins them ; just as, 
 with ourselves, it is the eye and general physiognomy 
 and deportment of a man or inferior animal which 
 mentally affects us, far more than the dimensions of 
 the body." 
 
 " You are in the right, sir," said Mr. Gubbins. 
 
 '' And this brings me," continued Mr. Paulett, " to 
 
ITS ROBIN.RED-BREAST. IT9 
 
 the notions which animals may entertain of men. I 
 suppose them to see^, in all men, animals that are intel- 
 lectually, and therefore substantially and effectually, 
 their superiors ; and animals, also, which, from the 
 additional force of the general sympathies, gain, under 
 different circumstances, their confidence and fear, and 
 love." 
 
 " The ancient story, therefore, may be a true one," 
 said Mr. Gubbins, " of the lion which came to the 
 slave, to have a thorn taken out of his foot?^' 
 
 " Yes; and that also," returned Mr. Paulett, " of 
 the lioness which, in the woods of Africa, came to the 
 sailor, to recover her cub from the ape.^' 
 
 " I am unacquainted with this latter story," said 
 Mr. Gubbins!' 
 
 " A seaman belonging to the wood-party of a ship 
 upon the coast of Africa, had straggled with his com- 
 panions, and was using his axe freely in the woods, 
 when a large lioness approached him, face to face. 
 The man, for the first moments, gave himself up for 
 lost; but, very soon afterward, he began to perceive 
 that the manner and expression of countenance of the 
 lioness was mild, and even mournful, and that he had 
 no danger to apprehend from her. She looked at him, 
 and then behind her, and upward into the trees ; and 
 went a few steps from him, upon the path by which 
 she came ; and then returned, and then went again ; 
 and acted, in short, much as a dog would act, that 
 wished you to follow him. The seaman yielded to her 
 obvious desire ; and she led him some little distance, 
 till, near the foot of a tall tree, she stopped, and looked 
 up, with plaintive cries, into its branches. The sea- 
 man, directed by her eyes and gestures, looked upward 
 also, and soon discovered, at a considerable heis-ht, an 
 
180 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ape, dandling and playing- with a cub lion, which he 
 had carried thither for his amusement. The wants 
 and wishes of the lioness were now easily understood. 
 The lion species, though usually reckoned among the 
 species of cat, diifer absolutely from it in this, as 
 in many other particulars, that it cannot ascend a 
 tree; a distinction, by the way, which ought to satisfy 
 us, at once, of the error of those who talk to us of 
 lions in America, where, in reality, there is no lion ; 
 and where the puma and jaguar, which they call lions, 
 so readily ascend a tree. But equally in vain would 
 it have been for the sailor to climb after the cub ; for 
 the ape, at the best, would have enjoyed the frolic of 
 leaping, with his plaything, from branch to branch, or 
 from tree to tree, as he approached. The only chance, 
 therefore, was to fell the tree, before the ape, seated 
 near its top, should have the sagacity to provide 
 against the effect of the strokes of the axe at its bot- 
 tom. To work, therefore, he went ; the lioness, which 
 had seen other trees fallen by the axe of the stranger, 
 standing by, and impatiently waiting the event. The 
 ape kept his seat till the tree fell, and then fell with it ; 
 and the lioness, the moment the robber reached the 
 ground, sprang upon him with the swiftness and sure- 
 ness of a cat springing upon a mouse; killed him ; 
 and, then, taking her cub in her mouth, walked con- 
 tentedly away from the benefactor to whose skill 
 and friendly assistance she had made her sorrowful 
 appeal !" 
 
 " I can so much the more readily," observed Mr. 
 Gubbins, " believe that even wild animals should put 
 faith in the skill and helping disposition of mankind ; 
 as I have myself met with a few striking examples of 
 that faith and expectation in domesticated species, to 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. l&l 
 
 ■whose observation, however, the human arts and jDowers 
 must be more familiar. A short time since, I was 
 riding over a common, at some distance from any 
 house, when a pig-, which, in the course of feeding, 
 had so twisted the triangular yoke upon his neck, that 
 the narrow portion of it pinched his throat, and threat- 
 ened him with suffocation, no sooner saw me, than he 
 came as near as to the fore feet of my horse, foaming 
 at the mouth, and struggling to overcome his diffi- 
 culty. That he believed in the power of a man to 
 assist him was evident ; but he had also his fears of 
 that human power, as possibly more dangerous to his 
 throat than all the pressure of his inverted yoke ; so, 
 that whenever I alicrhted from mv horse, with the 
 design of helping him, he ran away, and yet, as soon 
 as I was aofain seated, he returned, continuing- to travel 
 with me, close to the horse's fore feet, or as near to 
 my own person as he was able ; his mouth still foam- 
 ing, and his efforts to escape suffocation still prolonged. 
 In the end, seeing a farm-house a little upon one side 
 of my road, I pulled my bridle that way, the pig still 
 accompanying me ; till, reaching the yard gate, I 
 called to some of the people, and apprized them of 
 the pig's presence and misfortune, as my best means 
 of promoting his relief." 
 
 " You had doubtless a fair example, here, of the dis- 
 position of animals to apply for human aid,'^ said 
 Mr. Paulett ; " a disposition which is checked only by 
 their opposing fears." 
 
 " I had another example," resumed the school- 
 master, " only a few evenings since. In the brook 
 which runs before my dwelling, four ducks and a 
 drake, the property of my neighbour, are accustomed 
 to swim. Heavy rains had swelled the brook, which 
 
1S2 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 was still rising ; and across it, near to my door, is a 
 low arching- of brick, which causes it to pass, for some 
 dozen feet, or so, as through a tunnel. Upon the 
 evening to which I allude, just as the light was de- 
 parting, I heard the drake squall in a most vehement 
 manner, and in tones so far perfectly intelligible, that 
 I made this profound observation, in reference to them, 
 to myself, while they were uttering : ' There is this, 
 and this only difference between the drake and I. He 
 is perplexed, but he knows what it is about; and I 
 know, from his voice, that he is perplexed, but am 
 perplexed as to the cause.' For the little else that I 
 thought about it, it seemed to me probable, that he 
 and his ducks wanted to get home to bed, and that the 
 yard door had not been opened so early as usual, to 
 let them in ; for, that he was addressing himself, and 
 that vehemently, to human creatures, and not to 
 ducks, was plainly to be understood. But the noise 
 ceased, and, for an hour or two, I forgot it; after 
 which, upon incjuiry, I received this full confirma- 
 tion of the main notion I had formed. The drake 
 had really been calling for human aid, but upon an 
 affair more urgent than I had imagined. From the 
 rapid rising of the brook, one of the ducks had been 
 surprised under the archway that I have mentioned, 
 in such a manner that she could by no means get out, 
 and that neither the drake nor the other ducks had 
 any power to help her ; and it was in this extremity, 
 and as the next natural resource, that the drake had 
 called so violently for human help; which help had 
 been given, and the duck saved !" 
 
 " All these stories,'^ said Mr. Paulett, " have the 
 advantage of showing us, more and more, how nearly 
 animals, according to their means and situations, ob- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 183 
 
 serve, and act, and reason like ourselves; and, as to 
 their looking for aid, either to man, or to their fellows, 
 when the occasion surpasses their own powers, I 
 remember a recent instance of the latter kind, which 
 we may as well add to our present store of examples. 
 A ewe and her lamb were browsing, last autumn, 
 among some bramble bushes ; into the long and prickly 
 and interlacing branches of one of which the lamb at 
 length penetrated so far, that, his wool being caught, 
 and his legs more and more fettered at every motion, 
 he was wholly unable to get back again. Making, 
 then, his complaints to his mother, she, upon her part, 
 tried, in vain, for a considerable portion of time, to 
 deliver from the pertinacious branches her poor bleat- 
 ing lamb. But, wearied at last, and wholly despairing 
 of her means, she suddenly ceased to make any effort ; 
 and, almost as suddenly, ran away across the common, 
 and went completely out of sight; leaving, as I was 
 io-norant enough to think, the lambkin to his hapless 
 fate. While I was musing upon so extraordinary, 
 and as it seemed to me, so unnatural a proceeding, 
 the ewe re-appeared, and with herself the ram, both 
 hastening over the common at a rapid pace. She had 
 been to fetch him ; and she had employed some means 
 or other, in her possession, to make him acquainted 
 with the nature of the misfortune of herself and lamb. 
 Both came galloping to the bramble-bush, which they 
 had no sooner reached, than the ram, applying the 
 vigour of his legs and horns, tore away the branches, 
 one after the other, till the lamb became free, and was 
 able to leave the spot with his father and mother, 
 bounding and bleating gaily as he went !" 
 
 Mr. Paulett and his visitor had yielded thus far to 
 their mutual taste for the observation of the habits 
 
184 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and capabilities of the lower ranks of animated nature ; 
 but the real occasion of Mr. Gubbins's visit and recep- 
 tion was of more immediate and pressing interest and 
 importance. He had been joined, both by Mr. Pau- 
 lett and Farmer Mowbray, in consultation upon the 
 means of restoring the latter to his former ease and 
 welfare upon his farm, and of removing the serious 
 alternative of an emigration to Van Diemen's Land ; 
 and Mr. Paulett had sent for him this morning, to 
 hear the conclusion of his own exertions to that end, 
 and to convey the news, whatever it might be, to the 
 anxious family at the farm. In reality, the news was 
 the most agreeable. Mr. Paulett's neighbourly endea- 
 vours had been entirely successful. Every thing was 
 arranged. Farmer Mowbray was placed wholly out 
 of difficulty, and was left free to bring up his children 
 under the dews of their native skies. Mr. Gubbins 
 learned the particulars with transport, and had no 
 sooner made himself able, clearly and confidently, to 
 communicate them; than, after warmly and affection- 
 ately thanking Mr. Paulett, in the name of his friend, 
 and as to the more immediate object of the service 
 rendered, he hastened from the cottage to the farm- 
 house, to reveal the tidings. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 185 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 And vex with curious toil my infant eye, 
 To count the gems that stud the midnight sky j 
 Or think, as playful fancy wandered far, 
 How sweet it were to dance from star to star ! 
 
 LEYDEN. 
 
 As it was now near to Farmer Mowbray's dinner-hour, 
 and as I was willing to share the pleasure of seeing so 
 many happy human faces, and of listening to so many 
 cries of human joy, as Mr. Gubbins's news would be 
 sure to occasion in and about the large and ancient 
 chimney at the farm-house, I flew from post to paling, 
 and from eave to eave, and from hedge to hedge, out- 
 travelling the worthy schoolmaster; so, that I was in 
 time to see his almost dancing feet arrive upon the 
 stone floor, and hear his blithe and rapid story of all 
 that he learned from Mr. Paulett ; to the lightening of 
 the bosoms, but to the springing of fresh, but gladsome 
 tears, from the eyes of those whom he addressed. He 
 had stopped at his own gate, where, after uttering one 
 word of assurance that all was well, he bade his wife 
 and daughter follow him to the farmer's ; a summons 
 which Mrs. Gubbins obeyed to the letter, but at which 
 INIary, without her bonnet, came at a leap into the 
 street, and ran like a mad-girl before her father, whose 
 coming and good news she proclaimed while he had 
 yet a hundred yards to traverse. A syllable, or two 
 or three syllables at most, were sufficient to tell her 
 
186 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 errand and its complexion ; but, having kissed Mrs. 
 Mowbray and the children with rapture, her spirits 
 then failed her, and she sank into a chair, sobbing 
 aloud while her father explained the particulars of all 
 that to her was matter of delirium ; and, while her 
 mother, now congratulated her neighbours, and now 
 called upon her daughter to dry her cheeks, and to 
 still her heaving bosom, I had entered the kitchen- 
 door; and, amid the occupation of all present with 
 the subject of their pleasure, had found confidence 
 enough to pass from picking a few crumbs upon the 
 floor, to settle upon the top of a tall and old carved 
 press, whence I beheld and listened to the whole 
 affecting scene ! 
 
 The kitchen at the farm-house became, from this 
 day forward, so cheerful a place of resort; the door 
 was so commonly open, and the fire so commonly 
 blazing; and the events that had occurred in it, and 
 the familiar figures of its occupants and guests, had 
 grown into so many sources of strong attraction to 
 me, that I frequented it more than ever. I was at 
 Burford Cottage every morning, and I slept and sung 
 my evening song every night in its garden ; but at 
 mid-day, and till nearly sun-set, I was usually at 
 Farmer Mowbray's ; where, as I observed, Mr. Gub- 
 bins and his wife and daughter were now more cus- 
 tomary guests, than even before the happy changes in 
 the farmer's plans. 
 
 It followed, too, that because the minds of all the 
 company were now so much at ease, and because a 
 comfortable chair was so constantly at the service of 
 Mr. Gubbins, that his accounts of the starry heavens, 
 first solicited and listened to from that vague idea of 
 their relation to the afflictions of the earth, so com- 
 
ITS R03IN-RED-BREAST. 187 
 
 mon ^vitli such as are at once unhappy and untaught; 
 it followed that their conclusion was now asked ibr, 
 and most willingly accorded, amid calmer feelings and 
 serener countenances ; and where the lights and move- 
 ments of the skies could now be contemplated with a 
 delisfht, minofled indeed with wonder and with awe, but 
 without terror. The children returned to their natu- 
 ral and commendable inquisitiveness concerning that 
 mysterious round of ever-moving glories, which, high 
 above our heads, and detached from all the world that 
 we inhabit, has commanded in so irresistible a manner 
 the attention of all countries and ages ; and which, the 
 more it is considered, so much the more attractive, 
 and the more mysterious, it hourly becomes ! Mr. Gub- 
 bins encouraged even their wildest and most fantastical 
 inquiries; and incessantly allow^ed them to interrupt 
 his more methodical course of instruction, to satisfy 
 even their smallest doubts, or indulge, and then dis- 
 solve, their idlest speculations I 
 
 " Reverting for a moment,^' said he (while he hoped 
 thereby to remove even the latest lincrering alarm 
 from the minds of his hearers), '' to what we have said 
 of the Earth's being injured through the attraction of 
 the mass of the body of a Comet, I shall give you two 
 instances, in which (thanks to the prodigious facilities 
 afforded by human art, and the patient attention of 
 astronomical observers*) the courses of two Comets 
 have already been watched as they passed very near 
 to other planets than our own ; and where, through 
 
 * The patience required of practical astronomers, especially under 
 so cloudy a sky as that of England, may be partly understood from 
 an observation of Herschel, that a year which aftbrded ninety, or, at 
 most, a hundred nights adapted to observation, was to be thought a 
 year highly favourable to the astronomer ! 
 
188 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 all the passage, no disaster has ever happened. Only 
 a year or two ago, this Comet of Biela passed by the 
 orbit of the Earth, and, crossing the orbits of Venus 
 and Mercury, then peacefully buried its almost indis- 
 tinguishable form within the circle of the solar rays. 
 More remarkable and conclusive phenomena, however, 
 were witnessed in the year 1770, when a Comet passed 
 through the system of Jupiter ; — that is, crossed the 
 several orbits of that planet and of its four moons, — that 
 is, held its impetuous and undeviatins: course between 
 all those bodies, and across their paths — without dis- 
 turbing, even by its attractive force, the motion or 
 condition of any one among them ; and when also 
 the same Comet passed close enough to the Earth to 
 have shortened the length of its year, had the mass of 
 the Comet been sufficiently great, or the velocity of its 
 motion sufriciently small, to admit of the production 
 of such an effect." 
 
 " But now. Master Gubbins," said Farmer Mow- 
 bray, " that you have given us reasons for letting go 
 so many old opinions concerning the operation of 
 these Comets, can you tell us any thing about what 
 you think they were really made for? You know, 
 that when we have begun to think about any thing, 
 we are apt to be restless till we have fixed upon some 
 opinion or other concerning it ; and you know, too, 
 that nothing is made in vain ; so that Comets must 
 have some office to perform in the skies, whether 
 good or bad, or great or small !" 
 
 " We will not say ' good or bad,' if thee pleasest," 
 returned Mr. Gubbins, " nor even * great or small ;* 
 because we will not permit ourselves to imagine the 
 possibility that their office is either evil or unimportant ; 
 but, as to my own thoughts of the uses of Comets, I 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 189 
 
 will o-ive thee the best answer that I am able, only 
 wishing thee to understand, as we go, that, for two 
 reasons, I speak diffidently upon the subject; the first, 
 that I am not sure of having- any thing altogether new 
 to say ; and the second, that if w hat I shall say is 
 really new, I advance it with proportionable caution. 
 Comets, instead of travelling, like the planets, in cir- 
 cles, or in orbits that are nearly circles, travel in long 
 ellipses, or long ovals, of which no more than one of 
 the extremities pass partly round the sun, while the 
 other stretches into the opposite regions of space, to 
 different distances in the different Comets, and in 
 some of them beyond the orbits of the most distant of 
 the planets of our system. Xow, philosophers have 
 said something about the probability, that Comets, at 
 their perihelion, or time of passing partly round the 
 sun, acquire, from that luminary, stores of the matter 
 of heat, which, through all the remainder of their 
 course, they are destined to spread abroad again, for 
 the advantage of the planets ; and if, by this language, 
 it is meant, that Comets, and their motions, are resources 
 of nature for diffusing a certain degree of warmth 
 throughout, and even beyond, that portion of space 
 which is occupied by the sun and its planets ; then, I 
 do not know that I have any thing left to do, but to 
 concur in their opinions. It may very w ell be, that if 
 the space occupied by a solar system, and even the 
 space by which that space is surrounded, were without 
 the warming aid of Comets, the watery atmospheres 
 of those planets which enjoy it would be condensed ; 
 the surfaces of all of them be frozen ; and vegetation 
 and animal life entirely extinguished. There are other 
 parts of the natural economy, in which, as I think, 
 
190 EURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 correspondincr aiTans^ements, for corresponding pur- 
 poses, are plainly to be observed ; but perhaps, I have 
 now said enough upon this particular instance, if it be 
 such, as constituting the real office of Comets. The 
 velocity of their movements in their orbits (so far 
 surpassing, as it does, the velocities of the movements 
 of the planets), will be seen to answer, under my 
 hypothesis, very important ends. The rapid motion 
 will greatly contribute to the comparative warmth of 
 the etherial space ; and will, at the same time, trans- 
 port, with a requisite saving of time, the heated body 
 from one to the other of its most distant points of 
 traverse; thus parting with the smallest expedient 
 portion of the heat which it acquires from the sun, 
 during its passage to and from the opposite ends of its 
 course*. Or, a Comet may derive no heat from the 
 sun, but rather communicate that temperament to the 
 space about the sun, its heat and light being the con- 
 sequences only of its own velocity ; for I have never 
 heard that a Comet has appeared more fiery at its 
 departure from the sun, than at its approach to it." 
 
 " But," said Farmer Mowbray, " there must surely 
 have been some reason why our forefathers were so 
 fearful of the appearance of a Comet ; always expecting 
 from it, not good, but evil ?^' 
 
 " I attribute the fearfulness," answered Mr. Gubbins, 
 " first to the general, and not quite unreasonable dis- 
 
 * The author of these pages has long since announced his intention 
 to print a tract, entitled, " The Circulation of the Sea upon the Line of 
 the Meridian," in which he proposes to argue the probability of an 
 effect produced by the sea upon the surface of the earth, corresponding 
 with this suggested as produced in space by the action of Comets ; a 
 third instance of similar design and agency appearing to him to dis- 
 cover itself, at the same time, in the phenomenon of the Polar Lights. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 191 
 
 position of the inexperienced, rather to fear than to 
 hope, from the effects of all things new and rareJy 
 occurring; and next to the aggravated reasonings and 
 fancies of many of those who have attempted to be 
 eminently wise, but who, upon this, as upon many 
 other occasions, have only outrun the multitude in 
 error and in folly. It is, however, the tails, or atmos- 
 pherical appendages of the Comets, with their fiery- 
 substance, and their prodigious lengths, that have 
 been the special subjects of dismay. The tail of the 
 Comet of 1680 was reckoned at a hundred and twenty- 
 three millions of miles in length ; and the extreme end 
 of all this ' horrid hair,' as a poet has called it, might 
 have touched (it has been argued) and mingled itself 
 with the atmosphere of our planet ; might have inocu- 
 lated it with foreign materials ; and might, thus altering 
 its composition, and ' shake' into the element we 
 breathe, the seeds of pestilence and war! But why 
 that odious and undemanded fancy? Why might not 
 the atmosphere of a Comet (supposing it to really 
 touch and mingle with the atmosphere of the Earth), 
 correct and improve it, warm it, and purify it, rather 
 than communicate any thing malignant? For what 
 reason should we think that a Comet comes to poison 
 the Earth, and not rather (if there must be poison) 
 that the Earth should give poison to the Comet; and 
 for what reason, also, should we suppose a Comet to 
 be that contradiction to all the other things of nature, 
 a destroyer more than a restorer; and a production, 
 not by occasion, but by fixed design, malignant and 
 destructive? Thunder and lightning are things assur- 
 edly more terrible than Comets, of which latter the 
 motions are so regular, and the appearance is so 
 
192 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 serenely beautiful; and yet how rarely does even 
 jDartial mischief follow from the occurrence of thunder 
 and lightning ? In truth, all the fears that are any 
 where entertained of Comets are traditionary preju- 
 dices, derived from times when the regularity of their 
 laws was neither known nor thought of. The ordinary 
 course of nature, too (as ought to be sufficiently appa- 
 rent to us), does not occupy herself in preparing great 
 and frightful catastrophes that overwhelm, at once, a 
 world; but all her greater operations are performed 
 with a slowness and tranquillity that neither alarm 
 nor do violence to any thing. The magnetic poles, 
 for example, are continually in progressive change of 
 situation, on the east and west of the poles of the 
 earth alternately ; the sea is retiring largely from cer- 
 tain shores, and gaining largely upon others ; and 
 even the paths of the earth around the sun, and of the 
 moon around the earth, have alternate changes and 
 restorations of their figures, attained, or sometimes 
 only supposed to be attained during the lapse of 
 immense intervals of time; and which, if they really 
 eftect, backward and forward, any considerable changes 
 upon our earth, effect them so slowly, and, as it were, 
 so gently, that, like the changes of place of the fingers 
 of a clock, the changes discover themselves to human 
 sense, not while they are performing, but only after 
 they have been performed. It is said, that in the 
 course of some countless ages, the orbit of the moon, 
 in its revolutions about the earth, varies and re-varies 
 from a figure approaching to an oval or ellipsis, to a 
 figure approaching a true circle ; and that the orbit of 
 the earth about the sun has similar periodical varia- 
 tions, by one series receding from, and by another 
 
ITS ROBIN-SED.BREAST. 193 
 
 returning to, its first figure. Now, the variations of 
 the fi.o^ures of the orbits of the earth and moon, by 
 changing- the measure of their respective distances, in 
 the first instance from the sun, and in the second from 
 the earth, ought to vary all our meteorological pheno- 
 mena (the seasons, heat and cold, and moist and dry, 
 and all the rest) ; the times and strength of light and 
 dark, and the heights and periods of the tides. But, 
 if these changes, as we must infer, do really happen, 
 their progress is so gradual, that nothing very plainly 
 results to the human apprehension, at least while 
 the changes are actually effecting; and that, as to 
 the general and permanent economy of nature, so 
 many compensations are established, for the meeting- 
 and moderating all evils, we may remark the beautiful 
 coincidence, that it is precisely when the earth is reced- 
 ing from the strongest light and heat of the sun, that 
 the moon is bringing its strongest light and heat to the 
 earth I At this very time that we are now speaking, 
 the orbit of the earth is said to be concludinir its 
 period of change from an ellipsis to a circle, thence to 
 change again from a circle to an ellipsis ; a movement 
 which should now be reducing the earth, for part of its 
 annual evolution, to its furthest distance from the sun, 
 and lowest share of light and heat ; and, at this very 
 time, also, it is equally said, that the orbit of the moon, 
 from being in its progress from a circle to an ellipsis, 
 is making, for a similar part of the moon's evolution, 
 her nearest approach to the earth, with all her light and 
 heat. Newton obsen^ed, in one direction, this change 
 in the figure of the orbit of the moon, and thought, 
 thiit with the progress of time, the derangement must 
 become so great, as to require the immediate interven- 
 tion of the divine Creator, for restoring the previous 
 
 K 
 
194 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 condition ; an event which might have been expected 
 to discover itself by some fearful shock of nature. But 
 the French astronomer, LajDlace, has shown, that these 
 approaches and recessions, in whatever lengths of peri- 
 ods, are alternate, like the movements of a pendulum, 
 and already provided for in the established order of 
 things." 
 
 " Yet, it is always the fear of evil, and never the 
 hope of good," said Mrs. Mowbray, " in which the 
 superstitious indulge, on the appearance of a Comet ?" 
 
 " Perhaps, not always," returned Mr. Gubbins. " A 
 Comet, says the poet of the superstitions which con- 
 cern the class, 
 
 ' with fear of change 
 
 Perplexes monarchs ;' 
 
 and it is, perhaps, rather a change of some sort, than a 
 certain change for evil, that is so idly looked for upon 
 these occasions ; add to which, that those changes which 
 some think for the worse, are commonly thought by 
 others for the better. It is curious, in the mean time, 
 that the recent astronomical calculations upon a come- 
 tary appearance were coeval with certain popular fore- 
 bodings of great changes, indulged in in different 
 parts of the world. In Ceylon, some Buddhist priests, 
 upon the pretended authority of a letter from heaven, 
 seemed to announce, for the very year of the Comet, 
 the year of the Millennium ; while, in England, this 
 latter occurrence is still prophesied of as only two or 
 three years distant. In another channel, the writings 
 of Pastorini, the Italian, have promised the complele 
 restoration of the Romish church in Ireland in the 
 vear 1835 ; while those of Fleming, the Scotch divine, 
 fix upon the year 1837 for that of the total overthrow of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 195 
 
 the papacy. An error of the press, in a modern edi- 
 tion of Pastorini, which made his year 183o to be 1825, 
 occasioned some excitement in Ireland in the latter 
 year; as the error, also of the press, in France, as to 
 Laplace's calculation of the Comet's nearest approach 
 to the earth, produced an agitation in that country, 
 which required the government's aid for its removal ; 
 v.'hile, as to the ' pestilence and war,' and ' fear of 
 change,' the ideas of which have been thus connected 
 by the author of the Night Thoughts with the idea of a 
 cometary appearance ; I believe that they afford no 
 more than a specimen of the manner in which particu- 
 lar historical circumstances and coincidences can be 
 converted into false foundations for general rules. 
 His allusions seem to be to the era of the fourteenth 
 century, when the Black Plague, like an apparent 
 similar calamity in our own times, ravaged Asia and 
 Europe; when the latter quarter of the globe saw the 
 war of the Helvetic Confederacy, and the * change' of 
 the Swiss dominion from out of the hands of the 
 * monarchs' of the house of Austria ; and when both of 
 these events were preceded by the appearance of a 
 great Comet — the last a phenomenon which the super- 
 stition of the age did not fail to unite, in its imagination, 
 with the revolutions and afflictions that were current!" 
 
 " We shall never let you desist, I believe," said, 
 again, one of the company ; " but I think that when 
 you expressed your opinion, that the use and intention 
 of Comets were those of warming the etherial space 
 throughout, and even to the exterior of the limits of 
 the Solar System; you added, that you had some 
 notion of correspondent arrangements, in other parts 
 of the economy of nature ?" 
 
 " It appears to me," returned Mr. Gubbins, " that 
 
 K 2 
 
196 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ibe distribution and equalization of heat througbout 
 the precincts of creation, is one of the most important 
 functions to the discharge of which the laws of nature 
 are directed ; and that the means employed, for that 
 great end, are to be observed both in the heavens and 
 upon the earth. To this end, not only the sun, and all 
 the motions of the planets, but the existence of the 
 moons or secondary planets, and the ring of Saturn, 
 and perhaps the belts of Jupiter; but also the oblique 
 position of the axis of the earth. To this end, the 
 currents of the electric and magnetic fluids, and the 
 action of the Polar Lights*. To this end, also (as there 
 
 * It could not be true, however, that the action of the Polar 
 Lights (Aurorae Boreales and Australes) could have relation to the 
 general system of the earth, if, as from daj to day, in all our books, 
 is so ignorantlj repeated, the Aurora Borealis only began to exist in 
 the year 1715 ! The original proposition, and the daily repetition, of 
 that most extravagant absurdity, is, nevertheless, in perfect keeping 
 with a large share of at least all our historical science. Nothing is 
 more certain, not only in a physical or philosophical view, but from 
 the authority of ancient literature, than that, in the first place, the 
 Aurora Borealis has been known for thousands of years ; and in the 
 second, that this phenomenon is as old as the phenomena of nature 
 generally ; as thunder and lightning, hail, and rain, and sunshine, 
 and the rest ; and yet it is but two years ago that (not to cite addi- 
 tional examples) a writer in the Quarterly Review has this amaz- 
 ing passage, at once re-echoing the tale of their modern origin, and 
 helping out the continuance of superstitious interpretations in its 
 regard, similar in nature to those that have been indulged in upon 
 the head of Comets ! — " When the Northern Lights," says the eminent 
 critic, " were first exhibited to our ancestors, they regarded them as 
 an army of spiritual beings, marshalled in prophetic array, to warn 
 thein of approaching strife. In their indefinite outline they recog- 
 nised the forms of their departed heroes ; — in the meteoric play of 
 their lights, they saw the glancing of contending arms ; and in the 
 slow and rapid movements of the aerial columns, they shadowed forth 
 the evolutions of battle; while the crimson tints of the electric light 
 painted to tlieir imaginations the torrents of the blood-stained field. 
 The [now !] frequent occurrence of these phenomena has now deprived 
 them of their infiuence over the mind; but eveti we remember the awe 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 197 
 
 may be reason to believe), an action of the sea, distinct 
 from its tides and local currents, and not hitherto 
 observed*. But time draws on ; and, to explain my- 
 self further, I should be obliged to enter into a new 
 and extensive subject of discourse. Let us part, there- 
 fore, for the present; and leave the rest, if ever, to a 
 future day 1" 
 
 which thev inspired, when ihej were seen accompanying and follow- 
 ing the Revolutionary Wars of the last century." Quarterly Review, 
 December, 1832. — Now, there is not a word in this whole paragraph, 
 which, to prevent its plunging its reader into error, would not 
 require a commentary ! The Aurora Borealis was not first created in 
 the year 1715, as alluded to and repeated by the critic; its appear- 
 ance is not more frequent at the present day than at any former 
 one ; and the imaginations of the " Northern seers," attempted to be 
 pictured bv the critic, ought to be further and somewhat differently 
 explained. 3Iore than all, the influence of the phenomena " over the 
 mind" remains exactly as it was, however the individual critic may 
 have outgrown it, since the lapse of the " last century!" "Within 
 these two years, for example, the appearances of the Aurora Borea- 
 lis have been ^ iewed, in the North of England, in just the same poli- 
 tical aspect as those of the " last century," referred to by the critic. 
 —But the whole secret, in the mean time, of the pretended recent- 
 ness of the beginning of Northern Lights, consists, first, — in their 
 more general northerly appearance, while our literature and our 
 science (and especially what is old in either) have had a southerly 
 origin and cultivation; and secondly, in the public stir which was 
 made about them in Scotland and England, at the beginning of the 
 eighteenth century, upon account of their contemporaneousness with 
 the Scotch rebellion ; just as the Comet of the fourteenth century has 
 given rise to so many hideous stories of Comets, only because that 
 particular Comet, appearing in that particular century, was coeval 
 with so many natural and civil miseries and calamities ! 
 
 For a description of a remarkable appearance of the Aurora Bore- 
 alis in London, and for some of the laws of these phenomena, as 
 deducible from the records of their appearances; see an Account of 
 an Appearance of the Aurora Borealis, in London, on the ^ight of the 
 27th of September, 1827, &cc. &c. By Edward Augustus Kendall, 
 Esq. F. S. A. ; printed in the Journal of Science of the Royal Institu- 
 tion, London, 1827. 
 
 * See the note above, p. 190. 
 
198 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Among the swains to show my book -learned skill. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 The pleasure which Mr. Gubbins's auditors derived 
 from all that he told them at their former meeting-, 
 induced them, shortly afterward, to lead him once 
 more into similar communications ; but, this time, he 
 took up a branch of knowledge entirely new to those 
 about him, and which they found as enchanting as it 
 was new. 
 
 '' Within the ordinary and more anciently-established 
 scope of astronomical study/' said he, " our thoughts 
 are arrested, first by the solar system, with its sun, 
 and its primary and secondary planets, and comets, of 
 all which latter our lists are continually increasing ; 
 and if, after this, we consider the fixed stars, with their 
 g'roupings into constellations, and entertain some vague 
 idea of the milky way, or whitish vein, which, separat- 
 ing itself into two branches, runs through so large a 
 portion of the heavens; — after this, our notions of all 
 that astronomy has to disclose may seem to be com- 
 plete. But not so to the really enlightened, and 
 especially to the more modern astronomical student ; 
 to him who has listened to the three Herschels, to 
 South, and to Von Struve. These have cultivated what 
 they teach us to call sidereal astronomy; a department 
 of their own creation ; and of which the truths carry us 
 into a universe of magnitude and glory, such as all 
 the disclosures of the elder schools bear but smal^ 
 comparison with in amount." 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 199 
 
 " But what, then, is the meaning of sidereal astro- 
 nomy," said ^Irs. Mowbray ; " for, when I v.as at 
 school, they taught me astronomy, as well as geogra- 
 phy, and a great many other things ; but I never 
 heard, before to-day, of this sidereal astronomy?" 
 
 " Literally interpreted," answered Mr. Gubbins, " the 
 two words would involve what must seem a senseless 
 repetition ; for as the word ' astronomy' signifies what 
 belongs to the stars, so also does the word ' sidereal.' 
 But the stars are here intended to be spoken of em- 
 phatically ; that is, the fixed stars, to the exclusion of the 
 other heavenly bodies, as the planets and the comets ; 
 so, that sidereal astronomy is the astronomy of the 
 fixed stars, in the same manner that we may also parti- 
 cularize p I an etanj astvonomy, and comet ary VLStronomy ; 
 or, it is the astronomy of the fixed stars, or of the 
 universal heavens, as distinguishable from that minute 
 portion of them which we call the solar system." 
 
 " I can now readily understand," said Mrs. Mowbray, 
 " the vastness of the objects of Sidereal Astronomy, as 
 compared with those of astronomy commonly inter- 
 preted, or as frequently confined to the Solar System." 
 " But, Dame Mowbray," rejoined Mr. Gubbins, 
 " even if, as I have said, we join to the consideration 
 of the solar system, that of the constellations and the 
 milky way ; we have still but a faint and comparatively 
 mean, and positively imperfect idea, of the immensity, 
 the variety, the multitudinous bodies, and the gorgeous 
 and inexhaustible magnificence of universal creation, 
 as placed by the side of what we learn from the study 
 of sidereal astronomy ! Lend me," cried the school- 
 master, ofrowinor warm with his astronomical recollec- 
 tions ; '' Lend me that piece of chalk, and observe the 
 figure which I shall draw of the number and places of 
 the classes of the heavenly objects, such as they are 
 
200 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 multiplied and exhibited to us by this comprehensive 
 science ; for, here, instead of stopping at the constella- 
 tions, we must ascend from the sun to the planets ; 
 from the planets to the constellations; from the con- 
 stellations to the milky way, or boundary of the ne- 
 bula of the earth, or exterior limit of all our known 
 and native constellations ; — from the milky way to the 
 foreign nebulae ; and from the foreign nebulae to the 
 heavens beyond the nebulae, or beyond all human 
 observation ; — and, saying this, he drew, in corres- 
 ponding order, a series of segments of concentric cir- 
 cles, to stand for these divisions of the heavens, and 
 wrote over each the descrij)tion that belonged to it : 
 
 ^^e^/ona^^^i'i^"^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 3 V 
 
 °^r 
 
 \aceo^^^^ Const e/A„. 
 
 planets. 
 
 The place of tleSnn- 
 
 " But this term, nebula/' said Mrs. Mowbray, 
 as new to me as that of Sidereal Astronomy ?" 
 
 1<5 
 
ITS ROBI\-R£D-BREAST. 201 
 
 '' And equally so, no doubt," returned Mr. Gubbins, 
 " the idea which the name imports. The truth is, 
 that in all this branch of astronomy to which the name 
 belongs, the discoveries, for which we are originally 
 indebted to Sir William Herschel and his sister, were 
 lightly thought of (as is so commonly the case) during 
 the lives of the discoverers, and are only now advancing 
 in repute. I must therefore explain to you, both what 
 is meant by this term nebula, or ' cloud ' of stars, so far 
 outstripping the idea of a constellation or group of 
 stars ; and to what a vast hypothesis, or general scheme, 
 of astronomical natural history, the term essentially 
 belongs." But, as he spoke these words, ]Mr. Gubbins 
 put himself in order to deliver his knowledge with 
 due solemnity ; and all the company, at the same time, 
 in silence, and with deep attention, looked alternately 
 at the speaker, and at the chalk tigure which he had 
 drawn and superscribed, and to which he occasionally 
 pointed. 
 
 I. THE NEBLL.^. 
 
 " The hypothesis advances," resumed ^Ir. Gubbins, 
 " that the heavens are filled with stars, the whole of 
 which are every where distributed into nebulae or 
 clouds; that is into masses or bodies with intervals 
 between ; and the idea of which nebulee is to be con- 
 founded, neither with that of constellations nor that of 
 systems; for a nebula contains many constellations, 
 and a constellation many systems. These nebulae, in 
 short, are cloud or vapour-like appearances, of a bril- 
 liant whiteness, in this manner distinguished from the 
 ground of the dark heavens ; are seen with telescopes of 
 moderate powers; are ascertained to be more distant 
 from us tlian our constellations-; are v.hat, assisted 
 
 K 3 
 
202 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 by telescopes of higher powers, the eye resolves into 
 clouds of stars — as clouds of dust are resolvable into 
 particles. These nebulae are supposed to be millions 
 in number ; some near enough to display to us their 
 individual stars, while others, at greater distances, 
 betray, through the glasses of the best instruments yet 
 made, only masses of unbroken light ; the spaces be- 
 tween their systems and constellations escaping even 
 all our most assisted powers of vision. But each nebula, 
 it is said, must have, not only its own exclusive con- 
 stellations, systems, or whole starry heaven, but its 
 own milky way as well, exhibiting the projection of 
 the nebula upon the body of the etherial space ; and 
 again, from each of the systems, and from each planet 
 of each system, the appearance of the heaven of that 
 nebula must vary ; its several constellations changing 
 their apparent forms to the view of every system, and 
 distinguishing themselves by different degrees of lustre, 
 both according to the position of the system in the 
 nebula, and to its distance from the constellation. We 
 subsist, it is argued, within the circumference of one of 
 these nebulae. Our sun, or fixed star, belongs to one of 
 these nebulae; and all the scattered or distinct stars 
 which are visible, either to our naked eye, or through 
 our telescopes, and make up our constellations, are 
 luminaries of no more than our own nebula. It is 
 behind our constellations, or beyond the limits of our 
 nebula, and of the space surrounding it, that the foreign 
 nebulae are placed ; and through the spaces between 
 our stars, that we discover them. But, to convey to 
 you some account of what these nebulae are supposed 
 to contain, I will now describe the nebula of the 
 earth, or that cloud of stars among which is our sun, 
 the star upon which we more immediately depend ! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 203 
 
 II. THE NEBULA OF THE EARTH. 
 
 " The nebula of the Ccarth/' continued he, " is now 
 taken to comprehend all and more than we see with 
 the naked eye of the whole heaven ; or, in other words, 
 the whole portion, and even more, that we see, with the 
 naked eye, of the whole heaven ; or, that which we 
 commonly call the whole heaven or heavens, is held to 
 be included within the single nebula of the earth! 
 This nebula includes every star, either commonly or 
 only telescopically visible, but which is scattered, 
 — separated from other stars, — or, in other words, dis- 
 tinguishable as a star ; and within the circumference of 
 this nebula are to be measured all those prodigious 
 distances, the names and figures of which confound 
 all our ideas of measure; for it is only beyond this 
 nebula that begins the space containing other nebulae, 
 and those distances with respect to which we enter 
 into no calculation! This nebula of the earth, then, 
 contains all the fixed stars with which we are acquainted, 
 or which we commonly so call ; all the constellations 
 to which we give names ; and (minute in the estimate 
 of things and bodies so vast and so transcendent) that 
 particular fixed star which is our sun, with all its 
 planets and its comets! Sir William Herschel ven- 
 tured to think that he had ascertained the figure of the 
 mundane nebula, or nebula of the earth ; and also the 
 position of our sun, or of our solar sytem, within the 
 nebula. 
 
 III. THE GALAXY, OR MILKY WAY. 
 
 " The galaxy, or milky way,'* still continued Mr. 
 Gubbins, " which, at one time, was thought only u 
 meteoric light, and at another, a vast nebula, or bed. 
 
'204 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 or Stratum of fixed stars, is now held to be the projec- 
 tion of our nebula, or of our cloud, or mass of light, 
 in tlie heavens. It was through examining the milky 
 way, that Sir William Herschel became encouraged 
 to turn his telescope toward the nebulae. 
 
 IV. THE FOREIGN NEBULAE. 
 
 " The foreign nebulae (for it is by this name that I 
 venture to distinguish the other nebulae of the heavens 
 from our own nebula of the earth) may now be better 
 understood. Their composition is held to resemble 
 that of the nebula of the earth. They have their stars, 
 their constellations, their planetary systems ; but all 
 apart from ours. We see our own portion of the 
 heavens ; the foreign nebulae afford to their inhabit- 
 ants the sight of other portions. We see none of their 
 constellations, and much less their systems of suns 
 and planets and comets, and they see none of our 
 systems nor constellations. At what distances these 
 foreign nebulae are placed from the nebula of the 
 earth ; at what distances they are placed from each 
 other ; at what distances stand their constellations, 
 and revolve their systems, their suns, their planets, and 
 their comets, is only to be imagined from analogies 
 that we possess nearer home. The nearest of the 
 stars belonging to our nebula, to the earth our habita- 
 tion, is sometimes said to be distant 32,000,000,000,000 
 miles ; a space over which a cannon-ball, moving 
 throughout the way with the velocity at which it 
 leaves the cannon's mouth, could not travel in seven 
 millions of years. Or, the distances of all (even the 
 nearest) of the fixed stars of our nebula are considered 
 as immeasurable; and yet all these distances, measur- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 205 
 
 able and immeasurable from the earth (which, suppos- 
 ing this latter to be placed in the centre of the nebula, 
 would make the furthest of them no more than half of 
 its diameter), are to be included within the magnitude 
 of our single nebula ! Go on, then, to imagine the 
 universe comprising myriads of these nebulae, sepa- 
 rated from each other by spaces still more enonnous, 
 and possessing, within themselves, spaces of such mag- 
 nitude, with their several stars or systems, and their 
 several constellations or congregations of systems, as 
 the comparison with our own may faintly help us to 
 conceive ; think of each of these nebulae as of a bril- 
 liant dew-drop, or as one of those drops of water which 
 the microscope discovers to us filled with millions of 
 insects; think of these semblances to the microscopic 
 insects, not as the men, or other living creatures of 
 these nebuls; not as their planets; not as their suns 
 only ; but as the mingled lustres of their systems, of 
 their groups of suns and planets, and therefore only 
 as the bodies upon which move their men, or other 
 living creatures ! Think of this (if it is possible for 
 you to think of it ; if it is possible for you to form any 
 idea of the figure of such a spectacle); and then feel 
 the sentiment (if the sentiment can be adequately 
 entertained by the heart of man) of the immensity of 
 space, of the magnitude and beauty of its forms, and 
 of their prodigious and incalculable number — ' in 
 number numberless;' But you v/ill scarcely believe 
 what I am saying ; you will fancy that I am giving 
 you, not science, but romance; — listen, therfore, to a 
 part of what Sir William Herschel has written upon 
 the subject: — 
 
 " 'The nebulae,' says that distinguished astronomer, 
 ' are arranged into strata, and run on to a great length ; 
 
206 EURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and some of them I have been able to pursue, and to 
 guess pretty well at their form and direction. It is 
 probable enough, that they may surround the whole 
 starry sphere of the heavens, not unlike the milky 
 way, which undoubtedly is nothing but a stratum of 
 fixed stars ; and as this immense starry bed is not of 
 equal lustre in every part, nor runs in one straight 
 direction, but is curved, and even divided into two 
 streams along a very considerable proportion of it ; 
 we may likewise expect the greatest variety in the 
 strata of the clusters of the stars and nebulae. One of 
 these nebulous beds is so rich, that in passing through 
 a section of it in the time of only thirty-six minutes, I 
 have detected no less than thirty-one nebulse, all dis- 
 tinctly visible upon a fine blue sky. Their situation, 
 and shape, as well as condition, seem to denote the 
 greatest variety imaginable. In another stratum, or 
 perhaps a different branch of the former, I have often 
 seen double and treble nebulas, variously arranged ; 
 large ones, with exceedingly small attendants ; narrow, 
 but much extended lucid nebulse, or bright dashes; 
 some of the shape of a fan, resembling an electric 
 brush, issuing from a lucid point; others of the cometic 
 shape, with a seeming nucleus in the centre, or like 
 cloudy stars, surrounded with a nebulous atmosphere; 
 a different sort of orb again, containing a nebulosity 
 of the milky kind, like those wonderful inexplicable 
 phenomena about Orionis; while others shine with a 
 fainter, mottled kind of light, which denotes their 
 being resolvable into stars.* Add to this account by 
 Sir William Herschel, that Huygens, speaking of the 
 view which he had been able to obtain of one of these 
 nebulous appearances, compares it to the rising of a 
 curtain behind which the beholder should see an ocean 
 
ITS ROBTN-RED-BREAST. 207 
 
 of lidn, tossingr in varied waves I Sir William Her- 
 schel thought that he had himself examined twenty-five 
 hundred of these nebulae 1" 
 
 V. THE HEAVENS BEYOND THE NEBUL.t, OR BEYOND ALL 
 HLMAN OBSERVATION. 
 
 " But, as you have extended our view beyond the 
 constellations/' said one of the company; " what have 
 you now to tell us, Mr. Gubbins, of the heavens 
 beyond the nebulae-^' 
 
 •' Beyond the visible, that is, beyond the telescopic 
 nebulae, you mean^" returned Mr. Gubbins; " and I 
 am free to give you this reply, approved of, as I should 
 imagine, by every astronomer, and by every reflecting 
 person. You will have observed that Sir William 
 Herschel describes his telescopic nebulae as showing a 
 fine blue sky between them ; and also, that either the 
 naked eye or the telescope discovers these visible 
 nebulae in the blue sky between the fixed stars of the 
 mundane nebula: now, I conclude, that in the fine 
 blue sky which separates Sir William's nebulae, there 
 are still other nebulae, — nebulae after nebulae, — of some 
 of which future astronomers, with still superior teles- 
 copes to any that have yet been made, will one day or 
 other obtain a sight; while of those further, — and still 
 further, — created eye will never have the vision I We 
 live in a universe infinite in space, as in all other attri- 
 butes; and of which, however deeply we penetrate the 
 recesses, our feet are but still upon the immeasurable 
 threshold 1 The universe is an orb without a bound ; 
 a circumference without a centre I It begins everywhere, 
 it ends nowhere !'* 
 
 At the thought of infinite creation, and under the 
 attempt to figure to the imagination that by which all 
 
208 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 imagination is overwhelmed and paralysed — a space, 
 and a succession of celestial bodies, never to be mea- 
 sured nor counted, nor more than in part seen ; the 
 older members, among all present, were plunged, for 
 minutes, into an unbroken silence ! But, at the close 
 of that speechless interval, which, in itself, did homage 
 to the majesty of the thought, and even to that of the 
 stupendous universe which the thought concentrated, 
 Mrs. Mov/bray inquired of Mr. Gubbins, how it hap- 
 pened, that discoveries so transcendent, and chapters 
 in the science of astronomy which carry the student so 
 far above its ordinary heights, were still comparatively 
 unheard of, even among those who cultivate it, or 
 admire it? 
 
 " I might justly answer, perhaps," said Mr. Gub- 
 bins, " by showing, that among other causes, its want 
 of value for professional purposes, whether of practice 
 or of teaching, cannot but have impeded the progress 
 of its diffusion in England, where little learning, except 
 that which is professional, or conducive to place or 
 profit, is in any considerable degree of request; but, 
 without indulging in that view of the subject, it may 
 be sufficient that I should mention, first, that these 
 great discoveries are comparatively recent, and that 
 most great discoveries require time for becoming popu- 
 larly knovi^n ; and secondly, that, as I have before inti- 
 mated, the great discoverer, like so many other great 
 discoverers, saw his labours, if not ridiculed, at least 
 neglected, all the period of his life! Newton, upon 
 the promulgation of his researches, was met, not in- 
 deed with neglect, but with so much captious and 
 acrimonious opposition, that there were times when 
 he lamented he had ever let their secret escape his 
 bosom ; and that it was only with reluctance and long 
 delay that he ultimately published, or consented to 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 209 
 
 see published, his two great works, the Optics and 
 the Principia. But Herschel was more unfavourably 
 circumstanced than even Xewton. The latter did but 
 follow out a path which others had entered long be- 
 fore ; but Herschel trod where all was novel ; — where 
 nobody knew any thing but himself, — and where no 
 previous adventurer had prepared even philosophical 
 curiosity ; — and what he said, therefore, was either 
 disbelieved, or held of small account. I should not 
 do wrong, perhaps, if I even added, that the discoveries 
 and fame of Xewton, established as, by Herschel's 
 time, they fully were, impeded the progress to reputa- 
 tion of the new astronomer. The Newtonian philosoph}', 
 and the sole exposition, of the Solar System, to which 
 join the accounts of the Constellations, so greatly fill 
 the minds of ordinary students, that these latter have 
 scarcely room for any thing more, and scarcely believe 
 that any thing more is to be added." 
 
 " And you do not confine Sidereal Astronomy to the 
 doctrine of the XebuliE?" said, again, Mrs. Mowbray, 
 to Mr. Gubbins? 
 
 " By no means," was his answer. " Sidereal Astro- 
 nomy is the doctrine of the fixed stars at large ; which 
 it contemplates, first as they are composed into ne- 
 bulae, and next as each is in itself a particular star, 
 and subject for contemplation. It is but since the year 
 1816, that extraordinary additions have been made to 
 this branch of science, principally through the labours 
 of Sir John Herschel and Sir James South, in Eng- 
 land ; and of Von Struve, in Germany ; and it is to 
 prosecute it under the Southern Hemisphere (where 
 none but a new heaven of stars presents itself to North- 
 ern eyes), that Sir John Herschel has lately sailed 
 for the Cape of Good Hope." 
 
210 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " But I have heard you say, Mr. Gubbins, when I 
 was at school with you," interrupted Farmer Mow- 
 bray's eldest son, " that the fixed stars, although so 
 called, are not absolutely such, but have, to a certain 
 extent, their motions?" 
 
 " Milton," replied Mr. Gubbins, " describes the 
 fixed stars as 
 
 ' fixed in their orb that files ,*' 
 
 that is, as if they kept perfectly permanent places in 
 the heaven, the latter moving only, or rather, the earth 
 moving in its midst ; and it being always understood, 
 in the mean time, that the fixed stars, like the planets, 
 revolve on their own axes. For example, we know 
 that the fixed star, our sun, revolves upon its axis, 
 because we see the movement of its spots ; and we 
 reckon the period of its revolution at twenty-five days 
 and ten hours of our time ; that is, that the day of the 
 sun is nearly twenty-six times as long as the day of the 
 earth. 
 
 " But though the fixed stars, unlike the planets," 
 continued Mr. Gubbins, " keep their places with 
 respect to the earth, and are so far really ^"a?^c?, accord- 
 ing to the meaning of our term ; that is, though, night 
 after night, they always reappear in the same quarters 
 of the heavens, and in the same order, and at the same 
 apparent distances from each other ; still, besides their 
 revolutions upon their axes, they have motions in the 
 heavens, and with respect to each other, which we 
 omit to bring into the account, only because, at our 
 immense distance from them, they effect, to our eyes, 
 no perceptible variations of appearance. According 
 to Sir William Herschel, our fixed star or sun, with 
 all its planets, or all our solar system, is at this time 
 revolving within the circumference of the nebula of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 211 
 
 the earth, in the direction of the constellation Her- 
 cules ; and, if so, the constellation itself must likewise 
 be supposed to move. 
 
 " Again,^' pursued the villag-e astronomer, " there 
 are motions reported of the double stars, such as are 
 wholly new to those who have thought only of our 
 solar system. The double stars attract a large share 
 of the attention of our modern labourers. They are 
 held, of course, as double solar systems; but what 
 amazes us is, that, besides moving upon their axes, 
 and along with their constellations and nebulae, some, 
 at least, of these solar systems are said to revolve 
 round others ; that is, of the double stars, one round 
 the other; and this, in long but very various periods. 
 One of the stars, or solar systems, of Castor, revolves 
 round the other in a period of forty-two of our solar 
 years ; a small star, or solar system, in Leonis, round 
 another solar system in twelve hundred of the same 
 years ; a star in Bootes, in sixteen hundred and eighty- 
 one years ; another, in Serpentes, in three hundred 
 and seventy-five years ; and another, in Virgo, in seven 
 hundred and eight years." 
 
 " I confess," said Mrs. Mowbray, " that after all, I 
 am sometimes at a loss for the proofs of what astrono- 
 mers say of the stars. Why should they not be, what 
 more ignorant people have believed them, merely lights 
 in the sky^" 
 
 " Judging of all the heavenly bodies by means of 
 those which are nearest to us, the sun and planets 
 show us, by their own phenomena, that the stars also 
 are globular, solid, and have systematic motions." 
 
 " But how do you prove that they are more distant 
 than the planets?" 
 
212 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " The planets, in their evolutions, are seen to hide 
 ihem, or, in other words, to pass in front of them.'^ 
 
 " Why must they be larger than the earth?" 
 
 " Because, at the distance at which they are, if they 
 were smaller than the earth, they would be invisible/' 
 
 " How are you made certain that they have any 
 light of their own, and do not shine, like the planets, 
 with reflected light ?^* 
 
 " Because, being more distant than the planets, 
 they appear much smaller than them, and yet shine 
 more brightly." 
 
 To these answers Mr. Gubbins added several ob- 
 servations upon the variety of colour, figure, bright- 
 ness, and apparent magnitude, as well as numbers 
 of the stars, and the explanations proposed ; spoke 
 of the six degrees of magnitude established by astro- 
 nomers ; of the different velocities of the stars upon 
 their axes, and of the alleged appearance of new stars, 
 and disappearance of old ones; and, upon being 
 asked what is the number of fixed stars, or of those 
 distinct stars which shine in what is now called our 
 own heaven, or within our own nebula, replied ; that 
 the number of those which are visible to the naked 
 eye, however numberless it may appear to us, does not 
 really exceed a thousand ; while, if we add to these 
 what are discovered by the telescope, the total number 
 is three thousand. 
 
 " And now," concluded Mr. Gubbins, " let us finish 
 our inquiries concerning the stars with a reflection, 
 and with a comparison which the former may excuse, 
 and seem even to invite ! We may contemplate the 
 heavenly bodies, their vastness, and the multitude and 
 beauty, as well as magnitude and inexhaustible series 
 
ITS ROBIN-RE D-BRF.AST. 213 
 
 of their appearance, till we begin to think tb.at in these 
 alone consisted the substance and glory of creation ; 
 and that, as to the objects, animate and inanimate, 
 which may be presumed to cover the surfaces, as well 
 as fill the interiors of all these shining- objects, they are 
 insignificant in the great account I But how different 
 from such a conclusion is the truth ; and with what 
 hesitation must we not pronounce, even at last, be- 
 tween the wonders of the heavens, and those of only 
 the orlobe which we inhabit I Are the heavens, for 
 example, filled with myriads of stars?* Is their space 
 immeasurable, and are even the stars themselves of 
 mao;nitudes which we can scarcely bring into our com- 
 prehension!^ But, if so, is all this more amazing, than 
 that upon the earth we tread, there should exist (to say 
 nothing of mankind, and of myriads of conspicuous 
 plants and animals), not merely from inch to inch, 
 but from line to line, and from point to point, myriads 
 of plants and living creatures, all excjuisitely formed, 
 and as to the latter, all endowed with sense and mo- 
 tion ; and that all exceed the powers of the microscope, 
 just as the greatness of the heavens bids defiance to 
 the telescope ?* I will mention a small and solitary 
 example, the counterpart of endless others I 
 
 " ' In the coarse of last winter,' says a curious em- 
 ployer of the microscope, ' having observed, on a dry 
 and frozen gravel walk, a variety of small hollows, of 
 a g;reenish colour, it occurred to me that the tint might 
 have been occasioned by the scum upon water during 
 the summer rains; and if so, that it would probably 
 contain animalculae. I accordingly scraped off a little 
 of the frozen surface, and mixed it with water that had 
 been boiled, and in which I had previously ascertained 
 
214 BURFORD COTTAGE, A^D 
 
 that there were no animalculae. In a few hours, I 
 examined a drop of this water, and found as yet no 
 animalcule ; but I discovered a number of minute 
 fibres, apparently vegetable, and to the existence of 
 which the green tint I had at first remarked was pro- 
 bably owing. I found these fibres transparent ; and, 
 when viewed in a certain degree of shade, I observed 
 them to be marked, throughout their whole length, in 
 the most delicate and regular manner, with divisions 
 like globules in a hollow tube, each of which was 
 separated from another by a space of exactly similar 
 dimensions. In the course of a day or two, I again 
 examined the water, and found in it a variety of ani- 
 malculae, some of which were the most minute I had 
 ever observed ; except, perhaps, those found in an infu- 
 sion of pepper. The highest powers of a good micro- 
 scope gave me no information as to their form or 
 structure, except that they were of an oval form, and 
 moved about with considerable activity. Having near 
 me, at the time, some sea-sand, which I had been 
 examining, I put a few grains of it into the drop, with 
 the view of forming some idea of the comparative size 
 of these minute creatures. I found, that instead of 
 many thousands only, there were from one to three mil- 
 lions of these animalculae necessary, to make up the 
 size of a single grain of sand ! But, in this calculation 
 itself, I had by no means taken the smallest of the 
 animalculae discernible in the fluid. Many were much 
 smaller than those from which I had made my esti- 
 mate; so, that I had thus a simple means of proving 
 to demonstration, the existence oi' animated beings from 
 one to three millions of times less than a grain of sea- 
 sand /' 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 215 
 
 " It is thus/' added, finally, Mr. Gubbins, "' that in 
 the examination ofXature, we pass alternately through 
 
 ' — all forms, 
 The vast, and the minute ;' 
 
 and are for ever at a loss upon which to bestow the 
 greater share of admiration ! In the course of what we 
 have been now saying, at one moment we have had 
 before us millions upon millions of clouds of stars, or 
 clouds of solar systems, formins: as it were o;lobules in 
 the heavens, each of so great a magnitude that millions 
 upon millons of miles go for nothing in their immea- 
 surable measurement; and each comprising within 
 itself thousands upon thousands of solar systems, and 
 millions upon millions of habitable worlds, with all 
 their plants and animals * ! But, again, throwing down 
 our eyes upon the pathway under our feet, we find 
 plants and animals contained in particles of compound 
 matter so small as themselves to escape human ob- 
 servation, except in the philosophic mood ; — we find, I 
 say, in those small particles, millions of millions of 
 animals so small as scarcely to form, in their united 
 bulk, the equivalent of a grain of sea-sand; and as 
 imperfectly to be discovered and counted, through the 
 microscope, as the stars through the other instrument I" 
 
 * The reader has seen, in the preceding chapter, that the comet 
 of 1680, which, belonging to the solar system, could not quit its 
 bounds, carried a tail, therefore, within those bounds, of a hundred 
 and eighty-three millions of miles in length; a length which, at the 
 same time, cannot be supposed more than insignificant, as compared 
 with the space occupied by the system, and by the system only. Eut 
 we have at least three thousand solar systems (three thousand single 
 and double stars), as it appears, visible within our nebula, and in 
 our Northern Hemisphere of that nebula alone ! Suppose, therefore, 
 only six thousand solar systems, with all the spaces which they 
 occupy, and all the spaces intervening, in the sole confines only ot 
 one single nebula, — one nebula among the millions upon millions! 
 
216 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 He serves the Muses erringly and ill, 
 Whose aim is pleasure light and fugitive. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 From the beginning, as I have before remarked, it has 
 been the plan of all my narrative, to give an account, 
 not merely of ray own adventures and pains and plea- 
 sures, and denials and enjoyments, during the period 
 which it comprises ; but also (like a traveller who is 
 treating of a region not his own) to put upon record so 
 much of the thoughts and sentiments, the knowledge, 
 manners, and customs of mankind, as fell within my 
 observation during the same portion of my life. 1 
 trusted that by this means, which, as the reader has 
 seen, I have thus far so fully adopted, I should make 
 my book superior to what it might have hoped for, if 
 confined only to the fortunes of my humble self; and 
 add to that force and sum of instruction which I seek 
 to unite with entertainment. My project, up to this 
 chapter, has displayed itself, as I anxiouslj^ hope, very 
 greatly to the satisfaction of my reader, and so as to 
 make him look forward, to all that remains, with lively 
 confidence and expectation. I frame no sentence but 
 with the deliberate purpose, either to please, or to 
 inform, or to otherwise instruct him ; and to that 
 execution of my labours I have only to add the wish, 
 that what I have designed to make acceptable, may be 
 found such by my judges! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 217 
 
 The allurements at the farm-house had now, for 
 some days, shortened my visits at Burford Cottage; 
 wh-ere, besides, the very wintry weather which tempo- 
 rarily prevailed, had, for the same succession of days, 
 induced its more luxurious inhabitants to keep their 
 windows closer shut than hitherto; while, at Farmer 
 Mowbray's kitchen, the door was commonly open, the 
 walls heated, and the bustle, and the clatter of tongues, 
 so general, that believing- myself neither heard nor 
 seen, I could often make bold to enter, and to lodge 
 myself for hours together. But, the clouds being 
 once more dissipated, and the sun shining, though but 
 mildly, upon shrub and parterre ; the accustomed win- 
 dow was again so freely unhasped, and remained so 
 long unclosed, that I could spend an agreeable hour in 
 watching the motions, and listening to the talk, of the 
 breakfast-company ; joining, at times, a song or two of 
 my own, to the sound of the cheerful conversation. 
 Indeed, the hour was cheerful without-doors, as well 
 as within; for the blackbird and the thrush, and now 
 and then the jay, added notes loud and sharp to the 
 chatter of the chaffinches, and twitter of the titmouse ; 
 which, mixed with my own flute-like song, gave to the 
 moist air, and naked trees, a spring-like moment, not 
 unaided by the view of the soft flowers and yet verdant 
 grass, and of even some budding boughs. 
 
 Besides the persons whose names I have already 
 mentioned, I found, at this time, among my estimable 
 friends, upon a visit to Mrs. Paulett, Miss Belinda 
 Wainfleet; a young lady, of whom, that she was to be 
 the possessor of a considerable fortune, was the least of 
 her recommendations. Endowed by nature with quick- 
 ness and clearness of apprehension, and with the kind- 
 liest dispositions, and finest moral and intellectual 
 
 L 
 
2 18 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 qualities ; and enjoying-, through cultivation, a fund of 
 elegant and useful knowledge, and a strongly retentive 
 memory, with the addition of beauty of face and per- 
 son ; in Miss Wainfieet was completed one of those 
 examples which are sometimes witnessed, of all that 
 crown, in the composition of a single individual, at 
 once the elements of human being, and the proudest 
 of the improvements of society. If it is wise, and 
 even just, either for homage, or for emulation, some- 
 times to consider human creatures one by one, and 
 each according to his individual rank, as well as at 
 other times to consider all as upon the single level of 
 the crowd ; then, the spectacle of this female stranger 
 at Burford Cottage was not unworthy, as it seems to 
 me, of that distinction, nor without the value which 
 belongs to any thing that has the power of teaching an 
 exalted lesson. Miss Wainfieet owed much to nature, 
 much to fortune, much to the care of others, much to 
 the influence, and capabilities, and stores, of the society 
 and country in which she had been born and bred ; 
 but she owed likewise much to an understanding con- 
 tinually employed in improving and strengthening 
 itself; and to a heart continually directed, elevated, 
 purified, and softened, by the force and justness of 
 her understanding. All without would have been use- 
 less, except for all within. She was making herself, while 
 other things made her; and here it was that she was 
 capable of being copied. As there was nothing dull, so 
 also there was nothing evil in her countenance, but the 
 reverse ; and this was the beauty-paramount among 
 her several beauties. There is, in the single species of 
 humanity, and upon the surface of whatever is essen- 
 tial, universal, and deeper seated, so complete an as- 
 semblage of all the various characteristics of all the 
 
iTS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 219 
 
 species of the lower animal creation ; humanity sinks 
 so often into every thing that we call brutish, as well 
 as rises so often into every thing that we call angelic ; 
 it is sometimes deformed with so many hideous vices 
 and low desires, as well as sometimes beautified with 
 so many splendid virtues and noble aspirations; it 
 displays within itself the motley group of swine, 
 and ape, and antelope ; of tiger, wolf, and lamb ; 
 of eagle, ostrich, and jackdaw- ; of bee, and ant, and 
 hornet, wasp, and butterfly; that every member 
 of the large and ductile family is called upon by 
 nature, early and late, and late and early in the course 
 of his progress, to declare and to fashion himself ac- 
 cording to his will, as to the animal figure which, 
 morally speaking, he most desires to resemble ! His 
 comeliness a^d his majesty of aspect are thus at his 
 own mercy; — truths which are well and strongly ex- 
 pressed in the image of the Eastern fable, where the 
 spirit of a bad man, being met and terrified by the 
 meeting of a spirit deformed and ferocious in counte- 
 nance and figure, hears from the latter this afflicting 
 news : " I was your own genius during your lifetime. 
 I was beautiful when I was given to you, and while 
 you were sensible and innocent; and it is but to your 
 folly, and to your crimes, that I owe it to have become 
 uglv !" 
 
 But, if the reader asks, what were those means, of 
 Miss Wainfleet's own employment, to which I have 
 alluded and which had for their effect the strengthen- 
 ing of her natural understanding, the enlarging of her 
 accidental knowledge, and the dulcifying of her natu- 
 ral sweetness of heart ; these were, — reflection, without 
 which opportunity produces nothing ; application, 
 without which nothing is acquired ; attention, without 
 
 L 2 
 
220 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 which nothing- is remembered, nor even heard nor 
 seen ; and above all, that self-devotion to the due 
 claims of others; that prostration of self before the 
 honest interests of our neighbours ; that tenderness 
 for the feelings; that respect for the merits; that for- 
 bearance from the injury, including the humiliation, 
 of all about us ; and that ardour to oblige, to serve, to 
 gratify, and to make happy all we can reach, and that 
 good-nature which is more yielding and more officious 
 than even servility; which serves but to please, and 
 flatters but to enliven and encourage : these were the 
 means and arts through which Miss Wainfleet had 
 become, and was daily becoming, more excellent in 
 herself, more admirable in the view of others ; more 
 wise, more happy, more lovable, more beloved, and 
 even more lovely, than, without the efforts of her own, 
 either nature, culture, friends, or country could have 
 made her ! 
 
 It falls not, however, within my province, to bring 
 this beautiful figure into conspicuous action ! A little 
 Robin might be charmed with the aspect of its features, 
 and be an observer of its familiar motions ; but it can 
 belong only to eyes and hearts of grander structure 
 and susceptibilities than mine, to penetrate and to 
 appreciate it in the higher walks of its deportment ! 
 After drawing Miss Wainfleet's likeness, I have nothing 
 to relate of her ; or nothing but what assorts with the 
 faintest lines and softest colours in the picture ! I 
 know her only as a kind and laughing girl ; the intelli- 
 gent companion of Mrs. Paulett ; and the amusing 
 teacher, and the jocund playmate, of Emily and 
 Richard. 
 
 But she could join, too, with Mr. Paulett, in explor- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 221 
 
 ing and recounting the charms and riches of the natural 
 universe ; for, besides her acquaintance with books of 
 history, biography, poetry, and travel, she was skilled, 
 like the rest of the modern world, in botany, zoology, 
 chemistry, and the kindred sciences ; or knew enough 
 of them, at least, to listen with interest and enjoyment, 
 and communicate with pleasure and propriety, the in- 
 cessant details which hourly diffusion and research are 
 making mattere of elegant, attractive, and instructive 
 conversation. It was hence that many of those topics 
 of inquiry which had hitherto been favourites at the 
 cottage, still continued such after the arrival of Miss 
 Wainfleet; and, as for me, my attention was pecu- 
 liarly to be caught, when, as now, and as upon former 
 occasions, the remarks made, however widely they 
 rans-ed before thev v,ere finished, had their beor-innin«r 
 in some reference to myself, or to my species ! 
 
 While I was hopping over the carpet, as had become 
 frequent with me, Emily, first looking with unusual 
 scrutiny at the colour of my breast, observed to Miss 
 Wainfleet, that either all Red-breasts were not alike, or 
 else some of the poets whom they had read together 
 were strangely in the wrong ; for some had called their 
 breasts ro^y, and others crimson, while their Robin's, 
 she was sure, was neither one nor the other? But, to 
 this, Miss Wainfleet replied, that our breasts, as Emily 
 might rest assured, were all of the same colour; and 
 that the poets, in seeking to avoid the common and 
 comprehensive epithet of red, only involved themselves 
 in difficulties from which there was no escape: " The 
 name of red," said she, " embraces the description 
 of so great a variety of reds, that it cannot but in- 
 clude the real red of the pretty Robin's breast; but 
 how to describe that red particularly, by the name of 
 
222 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 any hue of red, or by comparison with any thing red, 
 besides itself, is more, than I, for one, can tell you. 
 Certainly, it is neither rose-colour, nor crimson, nor 
 even fire-colour, nor orange, which two latter make 
 nearer approaches to the truth ; but this is all that I 
 can say upon the subject." 
 
 " And that reminds me, papa," said Richard, " of a 
 mistake in a book of travels which I have been reading ; 
 where, though you have told us that there is no such 
 thing as a Red-breast in America, the traveller says 
 that he saw Robin-red-breasts, in that country ?" 
 
 "That, my dear Richard," answered Mr. Paulett, 
 '* is only a fresh example of what I have often told 
 you to beware of; namely, the habit of Europeans 
 (Europeans either by birth or by descent) to call the 
 new things which they meet with in foreign countries, 
 by the names of the old things which they have left 
 at home; some slight resemblance of the one to the 
 other* being all that can be alleged in the way of 
 apology for the confused nomenclature thus introduced 
 into natural history. In the present case, however, 
 there has been a further temptation for the use of the 
 name of ' Red-breast,* and one of which the influence 
 has been very wide in human language. To say only 
 that a bird has a ' red breast,* is to give it a descrip- 
 tion so very general, that it may as easily apply to many 
 birds as to one ; and it is because, at their roots, all 
 names or words usually signify no more than general 
 qualities, that, in much more extensive examples than 
 this, the same name, or at least the same radical word, 
 has been made applicable to numerous objects that, 
 under many important aspects, have no kind of like- 
 ness to each other. Now, in North America, there 
 is a bird with a red breast, and it is called by the Eng- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 223 
 
 lish name ; but it is a species of thrush ; it is larger 
 than our English thrush ; and the red upon the breast 
 is indeed a kind of crimson ; — a dull crimson, some- 
 thing like the red upon an English red-^o\e. It has 
 neither the figure nor the habits of the European Red- 
 breast. But this confusion, in common, or, as the na- 
 turalists sometimes call them, vulgar names, makes it 
 highly useful, for precision, to resort to the scientific 
 names, by which the identity of the object is at once 
 ascertained. Thus, the scientific name of the Red- 
 breast (or, even in English ornithology, the Red-breast, 
 or Red-breasted Warbler), as aftixed to it by Linnaeus, 
 is Sylvia Rubecula; while the corresponding name for 
 the American bird is wholly diflferent. 
 
 The striking circumstance, in the meantime, being 
 recalled to observation, that upon the continent of 
 Europe, as far as relates to the countries south of 
 the Baltic sea, the Red-breast migrates, in winter, to 
 the southward of those parts which it inhabits in the 
 summer ; while, in the northern countries of Sweden 
 and Norway, and in the northern island of Britain, it 
 defies the frosts and snows; Mr. Paulett, after remark- 
 ing that its want of strength of wing, to cross either 
 the English Channel or the Cattegat seemed the indis- 
 putable reason of the difference of habits, added, that 
 this explanation, if the true one, opened a variety of 
 further considerations, both as to the history of the 
 bird, and as to the geological history of our island. 
 
 *' If,'* said he, *' the Red-breast is properly a bird of 
 passage, remaining in the colder countries only during 
 their summer season, then their resort to our houses 
 during the winter, and the frecjuency of their probable 
 perishing where they are not helped by that relief, 
 paint them as southern strangers, shut up from their 
 
224 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 natural place of refuge during- the hard weather ; denied 
 the benefit of their natural habit of migration ; and 
 thus thrown, in a peculiar manner, upon our hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 " But," continued he, " if their winter's residence in 
 Great Britain is compulsory, and only so because they 
 cannot cross the sea to Spain, or Portugal, or France ; 
 in what manner did they ever arrive among us ? AVas 
 Great Britain, at any time (as is usually believed) a 
 part of the European continent? Did the Red-breasts 
 establish themselves here before the German Ocean had 
 wrought its way into the Atlantic, and before, there- 
 fore. Great Britain was an island ; and have been left 
 here, and cutoff from that continent, by the separation ? 
 Again; is it because of the separation of America by 
 the sea, both upon its European and Asiatic sides, and 
 this even at its nearest approaches to the opposite 
 shores, that the Red-breast has never found its way 
 into the New World ? If so, too, was America sepa- 
 rated from Asia more early than Great Britain from 
 France; or, was the cold climate, or the high latitude 
 of the Americo-Asiatic junction, if ever existing, the 
 more impervious obstacle to Robin-red-breast immi- 
 gration ?*^ 
 
 From the weak wings of the Red-breasts, the Bur- 
 ford philosophers passed to the strong ones of the 
 swallows; and, here, Mr. Paulett referred to a new 
 and late account of the disappearance of those birds 
 in autumn, corroborative of the idea which has been 
 sometimes entertained, that while they actually cross 
 the sea in their flights to and from this island, the 
 reason that they are never seen on their passages, 
 unless in instances where disaster might seem to have 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 226 
 
 overtaken them, is to be found in the extreme height 
 at which it is their natural habit to fly. Before enter- 
 ing' upon the new account, he added, that this extreme 
 height, besides affording to their powerful vision a 
 wide survey of the horizon, and thus, perhaps, one aid 
 for the direction of their course, would raise them into 
 an atmosphere so thin as to be unfit, with respect to 
 many animals, for breathing ; but which, at the same 
 time, would offer so much the less resistance to their 
 wings and bodies. The adaptation, also, of their lungs 
 to a peculiarly thin and unburdened atmosphere, was 
 also, he said, notorious, and had been matter for re- 
 mark to the poet, where he speaks of the " temple- 
 haunting martlet :" 
 
 " I have observed, that ever where he builds. 
 The air is delicate.'' 
 
 Mr. Paulett took occasion, at the same time, to remark 
 upon the long and lofty flights of butterflies, and of 
 some of the smaller beetles ; as, of that kind called the 
 lady-bird, the most prodigious swarms of which have 
 sometimes been seen alighted upon the dome of 
 St. Paul's, in London; and upon the snowy heights 
 6f the Rocky Mountains, in North America. As to the 
 migration of swallows, he stated, that a gentleman 
 lately travelling near Yealm Bridge, in Devonshire, 
 bad his attention suddenly drawn to an unusual num- 
 ber of those birds, careering round him at the height 
 of from forty to fifty feet. He remarked to his com- 
 panions, that there was assuredly something more than 
 commonly extra.ordinary in their movements ; and, 
 that they were certainly not seeking their food, but 
 training themselves for the day of migration. In 
 an instant after, and as if by word of command, all 
 
 l;3 
 
226 BfRFQRD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the stragglers gathered into a narrower space; and 
 then, the whole body, forming themselves into a close 
 compact phalanx, with the greatest celerity, and with 
 the ascending motion of the skylark, mounted perpen- 
 dicularly into the higher regions of the air ! The time 
 was three o'clock, on a bright sunny afternoon of the 
 first day of October; and, the atmosphere being very 
 clear, the swallows were traced in their ascension to an 
 immense height, and till, finally, they were lost to the 
 eye. The wind was in the north-east, and the moon 
 wanted only three days of her full. The gentleman 
 thought, that the object of the swallows, in rising at 
 once to so great a height, was to throw themselves 
 into a stratum of air which, to their instinctive know- 
 ledge, was then running to the southward*. Other 
 and earlier relations have been given, of the gathering 
 of large flocks of swallows upon the sea-coasts, in evi- 
 dent preparation for departure, and upon evenings 
 which promised a clear moonlight night f ; but no 
 observer, till the present instance, is recorded as 
 having been so fortunate as to witness the moment of 
 their actual disappearance in the skies ! That, after 
 days of preparation, the swallows always suddenly 
 disappear completely, is certain ; and it seems equally 
 so, that they prefer to travel upon moonlight nights. 
 
 The question of the migration of birds, and, still 
 more, the occasional departures from their habits, in 
 this, and in other particulars, led, irresistibly, once 
 more, to that of the sagacity of animals, for which, 
 and for the consequent suppression of much of the 
 
 * Letter of the Rev, C. Trelawny Collins, Literary Gazette, Octo- 
 ber 26, is:i3. 
 
 t See White's Natural History of Selborne, &c. 6cc. 
 
ITS BOBIN-RED-BREAST. ^'Z i 
 
 doctrine of instincts, Mr. Paulett, as the reader knows, 
 was a considerable stickler. He admitted, however, 
 upon this occasion, that animals, under the circum- 
 stances of their accidental situation, were often guilty 
 of such errors as might fairly expose them, especially 
 at first sight, to the common imputation of having no 
 more than a blind instinct for their guide ; but this, 
 he still contended, was only when they were put out of 
 their way by the intervention of works of human art, for 
 mastering of which they were naturally unprepared, 
 either by their want of experience, or by the more 
 unconquerable difficulties of their bodily conformation. 
 Under the former head, he allowed, that amid all which 
 could be said for the sagacity of the horse, it was a 
 mortifying example of the contrary, that one of those 
 noble animals, being in a stable of which the door 
 was a-jar, put forward his head between the door and 
 the jamb, and finding the door still close upon his 
 neck, in this situation took fright, and pulled his 
 head so constantly and so violently backward, as to 
 kill himself by strangulation ; while, if he had only 
 walked forward but a step or two, the door would 
 have given him not the slightest resistance, but suffered 
 him freely to leave the stable ! 
 
 At this admission of ^Ir. Paulett, Mr. Hartley vvas 
 ready with a whimsical story of the instinctive indus- 
 try of a young tame beaver, which he had seen at the 
 house of a family residing upon the banks of the river 
 Kennebec, in North America. The little animal was 
 so far weaned from his wild habits, and so far accus- 
 tomed to those of his human master and associates, 
 that he was suffered to frequent the river at his plea^ 
 sure, coming out, and returning home, when called 
 upon to be fed or housed. But he was lodged in a 
 
228 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 sort of out-bnildinj^, or appendage to the kitchen, 
 where, among- a very few articles of furniture, one was 
 a slight wooden chair. Upon occasion of heavy rains, 
 the beavers have always reason to fear, that the waters 
 of the lakes or rivers which they confine with their 
 extended dams, will rise, and break through these 
 latter, in some or other of their weaker or more as- 
 saulted parts, a mischief which it behoves them to lose 
 the least possible time in repairing. With this fore- 
 sight, in the midst of rains of such a description, they 
 prepare branches and trunks of trees, by cutting them 
 into lengths, and laying them ready for use, when 
 either an accident shall become palpable from its 
 effects, or find detection upon minute survey. Upon 
 this service, too, they early employ their young, teach- 
 ing them what is to be done, and scolding and beat- 
 ing them if they are negligent or awkward. Now, 
 it happened one night, after the young beaver had 
 been shut into his out-house, that there fell a heavy 
 rain, the noise of which would necessarily be loud 
 upon the wooden shingles of its roof In the morning, 
 all was fair again, and the door of the out-house was 
 opened for family use, and to set the young beaver at 
 his liberty. But behold, the thoughtful and industri- 
 ous little creature, having heard the sound of the 
 falling rain, had remembered what might be needful 
 for the beaver-dams; and, for lack of growing timber 
 in his night's lodging-place, had made no ceremony 
 with the wooden chair, but, with his sharp and power- 
 ful teeth, diligently cut it all to pieces ; the whole in 
 convenient lengths for use and carriage!" 
 
 " You thoroughly believe, sir," said Miss Wainfleet, 
 " the truth of that story?" 
 
 " I was told it," answered Mr. Hartley, " in the 
 
lis HUBIN-REO-BREAST. 229 
 
 house where the event was said to have hapj)enecl, muk 
 by the owner of the house and beaver. But besides 
 all this, the story, though whimsical from the domt>iic 
 circumstances surroundintr it, is scarcely a remarkable 
 story, in relalif)n to what is common amonj^ Vjcavers. 
 The Indians, from the marvellous appearances of 
 reason uliirh llieir lial)i!s display, insist, either jest- 
 int^ly or in earnest, that ihey are a race of creatures 
 who were originally men, but who have been lowered 
 into beavers for their sins I" 
 
 " They are extraordinary creatures, certainly," saiti 
 Miss Wainfleet. 
 
 "All their habits," continued Mr. Hartley, "are 
 marked with the show of reason, but none more so 
 than those which concern those articles of their first 
 necessity, their dams. They build them exactly upon 
 the same principle of security with our own ; that is, 
 slopin*.^ with the current; and the activity and skill 
 with which they proceed to a prudential survey after 
 any rise or violence of the waters, is one of the most 
 striking of their displays, to those w ho have an oppf»r- 
 tunity of witnessinj^ them. They form them of wooden 
 piles, and of cross and intervenini^ sticks and timbers, 
 and make their thickness of an embankment of earth 
 or mud, which they fetch up from the bottom, and dis- 
 yK)se with those natural trowels, their flat and skinny 
 tails. But the skill and foresi^dil with which they fell 
 the trees (some of them of respectable u^'th), for these 
 purposes, and for the build ing^ of their houses, are not 
 the least of their surprising peculiarities. Jn every 
 case, they wish to have the tree as near the water as 
 possible, both for use and carriaj^e; but, to that end, 
 not only they find, if practicable, suitable tree-^ at short 
 distances from the edge of the water, but they con- 
 
230 EURFORD COTTAGE. AND 
 
 sider, also, the difference of sjDace arising from a tree's 
 falling- toward the water, or away from it. Upon this 
 account, like any human workman, they begin the 
 cutting of the trunk upon the side opposite to the 
 water, and this rule they inculcate upon their youncj-, 
 who, thoughtless or inexperienced, however, not un- 
 frequently neglect it. When this happens, they beat^ 
 or snarl, or snap, at the heedless youths, who, perhaps, 
 have blundered through playing instead of working, 
 and thus forgot their lesson ; and, if the tree is so far 
 bitten through, that, if finished in the felling, it could 
 only fall in the contrary direction to that of the water, 
 they put an end to the operation, and go to another tree. 
 On the contrary, if a tree is properly felled, then, as 
 soon as it reaches the earth or water, a competent 
 number of beavers assemble about it, nipping off its 
 branches, and reducing these and its whole trunk into 
 the customary lengths. It is asserted that trees, par- 
 tially cut through near their roots, and which have 
 been abandoned by the elder beavers, because of the 
 error of the younger, in cutting upon the wrong side, 
 are of no uncommon occurrence upon any of the 
 beaver-grounds," 
 
 " The old beavers seem to be very severe with the 
 poor young ones," said Richard ? 
 
 " Only when they neglect their duty," returned Mr. 
 Hartley, " or when they heedlessly forget their lesson. 
 At other times, they are as playful with them as cats are 
 with their kittens. The difference is, that kittens have 
 nothing to perform, except to catch what they want to 
 eat, and to wash their hands and faces ; but young 
 beavers must do all this, and also attend to wood-cutting 
 and building, and laying up stores of food ; the two 
 former cares for the safety of their fathers' house, and 
 
ITS ROBI>'-RED-BREAST. 231 
 
 of the dams that are of the last importance to the whole 
 
 community.'^ 
 
 " I should have thought," continued Richard, " that 
 the younoc beaver upon the Kennebec went into the 
 river to catch fish to feed himself; but you say, that he 
 was called out of it to be fed!"' 
 
 " I know very well," answered ]\Ir. Hartley, " that 
 there are writers who tell you a great deal about the 
 voraciousness of beavers for fish ; but this is only 
 another of the many errors which you may always 
 learn from books. There never was a beaver that ate 
 a single fish in his life ; those who say the contrary 
 confound the heaver with the otter; and in natural 
 history, as well as in poetry, nothing is more frequent 
 than to confound one animal with another. The food 
 of beavers is entirely vegetable, like that of hares, 
 rabbits, squirrels, and marmots, to which order of 
 animals they belong ; that is, to Cuvier's order of 
 rodentia, rongeurs, or gnawers ; and not to that of his 
 carnivora, camassiers, or flesh-eaters*." 
 
 " Are there no beavers in England," said Emily, 
 " except in the Regent's Park ?" 
 
 " For many centuries past," said ]Mr. Hardey, 
 " there have been no beavers in England, except when 
 brought from other countries for a show. Anciently, 
 however, there were many ; and they still abound in 
 the northern and desert parts of Europe and Asia. 
 There was anciendy, in Asia, a larger species of beaver. 
 by one fifth, at least, than any at present known. 
 The fossil remains of one have been found upon the 
 sandy banks of the Sea of Azof; and it has been 
 named, after M. Cuvier, Trogontherium Cuvieri. By 
 
 * Le Regne Animal distribue d'apres son Organization. Par M. le 
 Baron Cuvier. Noavelle edition, Paris, 1829. 
 
232 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 nature, they belong to all the northern parts of all 
 the Northern Hemisphere. In England, the name of 
 Beverly, which belongs to an ancient town in York- 
 shire, is one of the memorials of the ancient prevalence 
 of beavers ; for it signifies a ' bever,' or ' beaver ley,^ 
 or ' lea,' or ' meadow.' " 
 
 " But how came they, then," said Emily, " to be so 
 cruel as to kill all the beavers in England, that were 
 such wonderful creatures, and did no harm, but lived 
 upon vegetables; and were not like the wolves, of the 
 extermination of which in all our country I am very 
 glad ?" 
 
 " There were many things which caused the killing 
 of beavers, and which tended, besides, to their total 
 destruction. Their flesh is very acceptable for eating ; 
 their skins, fur, and castoreum, are valuable ; and above 
 all, men and beavers cannot live in the same neigh- 
 bourhood. This vegetable food, which you think so 
 harmless, costs many square miles of drowned land 
 for its production. All their vegetable food is aquatic; 
 as, the bark and younger shoots of birch and willow- 
 trees, and the fleshy roots of certain aquatic plants. 
 It is to cultivate or promote the growth of these, that 
 they build dams, to stop the outlets of small lakes, or 
 arrest the courses of small rivers ; so as to make shallow 
 artificial lakes and swamps, often of miles in breadth, 
 where, otherwise, the waters would run off, and leave 
 fruitful grass. This, though not to the stay of so great 
 a depth of water, is just what men do in rice-grounds, 
 and in water-meadows, for the growth of rice and grass ; 
 and it is hence that * beaver.meadows' are artificial 
 levels, or grounds more or less level, but not through 
 art of man, being levelled by the beds of water which 
 the beavers only have anciently made to lie upon them. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 233 
 
 But, as men multiply in the same countries, these either 
 kill the beavers, or else break clown their dams, in 
 places the best adapted to let off the waters ; and thus 
 the beavers vanish, and the lands are drained. In the 
 new settlements, and even further still, in the interior 
 of North America, it is common to see extensive grass- 
 grown beaver-dams, winding in their course, and vary- 
 ing in their height from their base, according to the 
 levels ofthe soil; just as elsewhere we trace the ditches 
 of Roman camps, and the walls of ancient cities ; or, as, 
 in North America, they mark the mounds which have 
 been thrown up by ancient nations of the country ! 
 But the destruction of beavers proceeds so fast, in the 
 hands of the hunter, the merchant, and the manufac- 
 turer; that, even in the Indian territories of North Ame- 
 rica, where no cultivation lends its aid, the beaver, 
 though originally hunted upon the banks of the Saint 
 Lawrence, is now scarcely to be met with short of two 
 thousand miles to the north-westward of Montreal*. For 
 the rest, it does not live in the extreme north ; and, to 
 the southward, not only it gradually disappears, but its 
 fur grows thinner and shorter, and consequently less 
 valuable. 
 
 " The ancient Greeks," concluded Mr. Hartley, 
 " might seem to have known as little ofthe true nature 
 and habits of the beaver as the modern natives of 
 
 * Much interesting information, concerning the beaver countries, 
 the hunters, and the traders, is to be found in a book entitled 
 " Travels and Adventures in Canada and the Indian Territories, by 
 Alexander Henry, Esq.;" printed in New York, and written in that 
 city, by the author of these pages, from the notes communicated in 
 Montreal, by Mr. Henry, who was one of the very earliest adven- 
 turers into that part of North America, after the conquest of Canada 
 by the English. 
 
234 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Western Europe ; at least if ^Esop's fable of the Beaver 
 and the Hunters is an example. From that fable, 
 there is room to suppose, that they chiefly knew it by 
 name, and as the animal which yielded the casto- 
 reum, a secretion in the nature of musk and civet, 
 and which, if they were without those latter perfumes 
 and medicaments, they might the more esteem. But, 
 when JEsop makes his beaver bite off the cist or bag 
 which contains the casforeuvi, or odorous secretion of 
 the castor, or beaver, to free himself from the pursuit 
 of the dog's, he represents the chase (so to call it) of 
 the animal in a form very different from what has 
 been seen in North America, and perhaps elsewhere. 
 It is not absolutely impossible, that upon the Old 
 Continent, the beaver, like the badger and otter, may 
 have been hunted with dogs ; but the American Indians 
 take it either in traps, which they bait with the roots 
 of aquatic plants, and with cuttings of the birch and 
 willow, or with springes set in the beaver-paths; or 
 else by breaking into the earthen roofs of the beaver- 
 houses, and then killing and possessing themselves of 
 as many members of the several families contained in 
 them as they can prevent from escaping, either from 
 above, or by the water-way below. As to the odorous 
 secretion of the beaver, it appears to be given it both 
 for a dressing for its coat, like the oil in water-birds, 
 to enable it to pursue its amphibious life, and also as 
 a means of defence (like the ejections of the polecats 
 and badgers) against its enemies. This, at least, is 
 certain, that the crocodile and alligator, also frequenters 
 of the water, are largely provided with a musky 
 secretion ; and that the animal nearest of kin to the 
 beaver (though, like other rats, partly a flesh-eater). 
 
ITS ROBI\-RED-BREAST. 235 
 
 is a rat secreting musk, and therefore called the musk- 
 rat ■^." 
 
 It was thus that the traveller at Burford Cottage 
 brought to an end his anecdotes and partial account 
 of the beaver species, to which all present, but espe- 
 cially Richard and Emily, had listened with the live- 
 liest regard ; and Mr. and Mrs. Paulett, as the reader 
 has long seen, were always pleased when these latter 
 had the opportunity of adding to their stock of the 
 knowledge of nature, among other branches of infor- 
 mation. Neither Richard nor Emily v/ere in any dan- 
 ger, therefore, of furnishing such an anecdote of either, 
 as that recently related by Sir James South, in one of 
 his lectures, concerning a great boy in St. James's 
 Park, upon the subject of the ducks swimming in the 
 water of the plantation. 
 
 A friend of Sir James was one day walking through 
 that spot, when he happened to overhear a little boy, 
 about eight years old, saying to his brother, a lad 
 about eighteen, " How is it, John, that the ducks' 
 feathers do not get wet?" — " Oh! I can't tell," was 
 the ignorant and impatient reply of the brother John. 
 Upon this. Sir James's friend said to the younger boy, 
 " It is because the ducks continually anoint their fea- 
 thers, with their bills, from little bags of oil which they 
 have under their wings." 
 
 "■ Ah !" cried, then, the youth of eighteen years of 
 age : " and who finds the ducks in oil ? The proprietors, 
 I suppose?" 
 
 * For the description and habits of the rausk-rat, and the Indian 
 fiction founded upon the latter, see the fable of the Great Hare and 
 the Musk-rat, in " Algonquin or Indian Fables, from the Woods of 
 North America i" by the author of these pages. 
 
236 
 
 BIRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 A German philosopher once proposed to scale the heavens, for 
 the purpose of ascertaining the fact, or the falsehood, that there 
 was a Man in the Moon, armed with a lunar reaping-hook. He cer- 
 tainly would have prosecuted his design, but that he could not hit 
 upon the means of making the necessary ascent. anon. 
 
 What Mr. Hartley bad said, of the sagacity and habits 
 of the beaver, had become the occasion of Miss Wain- 
 fleet's opening her Scrap-book, in which, as usual, 
 were a mingled rout of drawings, prints, and written 
 and printed passages in poetry and prose. Her imme- 
 diate object had been that of showing to Emily and 
 Richard the figure of a beaver, very skilfully drawn 
 upon one of its pages, and concerning which, as may 
 be easily believed, they had grown singularly curious ; 
 and which, as shown in Miss Wainfleet's book, left 
 them nothing to wish beyond, only that they would 
 have liked a precise picture of the young beaver of the 
 Kennebec, all alone in his outhouse upon the night of 
 the heavy rain, and in the very act of cutting up, for 
 repairs of his beaver-dam, the new wooden chair. But 
 the leaves of the Scrap-book once opened. Miss Wain- 
 fleet could not soon withdraw them from attention ; 
 particularly as Mr. Hartley became silent at their sight, 
 and earnestly begged, that for so great a length of 
 time as his travels and voyages had torn him from the 
 regions of European genius and taste, he might be 
 permitted to see some parts of a collection, in which. 
 
ITS R0B1N-RED-BREA>T. 237 
 
 beside the merits that might be intrinsic, there was the 
 stamp of Miss Wainfleel's choice, or, at the least, of 
 her toleration: "We expect," said he, "and I am 
 sure that in this instance we cannot be disappointed, 
 that what a lady collects, or even permits, in an assem- 
 blas^e like this, should bear relation to w hat she herself 
 produces, or is capable of producing, either with the 
 pen or with the pencil; for," added he, as a great 
 master of polite criticism has said before me, the 
 
 ' next to what vou write is what jou read.' 
 
 But this criticism upon Scrap-books almost increased 
 Miss Wainfleet's diffidence as to letting her own be 
 seen : " In truth," said she, " this book is partly an 
 Album, and in part only a Scrap-book; for some of 
 my friends have w ritten upon pages which they have 
 found blank ; and, besides, a Scrap-book itself is some- 
 what like one's mind, and should not be too readily 
 displayed to outward observation. We have our tran- 
 sient and our silly thoughts, with which, though harm- 
 less, we might be ashamed to be lixed with the fame 
 of entertaining ; and so, sometimes, we collect, from 
 transient and silly motives of esteem, and even some- 
 times as specimens, not of w hat we admire or venerate, 
 but expressly what we condemn or ridicule, and from 
 motives of criticism, instead of approbation. Now, to 
 a strangei-^s eye, the real nature of our inducements — 
 the precise degree of liking— or, perhaps, personal or 
 private reason by which we are influenced, or the 
 direct spirit of contradiction — in which we thus col- 
 lect, can rarely be discoverable or made clear; so that, 
 with the identification, too, of reading and writing 
 which you j^ropose — there is often danger, in such a 
 
238 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 book, to the good report of our taste, our opinions, or 
 our sentiments. But, trusting, nevertheless, to your 
 candour, if it should be needed, I say nothing more, 
 in the way of apology, for any thing which you may 
 find ill-chosen, or ill-obtruded, in my humble Scrap- 
 book.'^ 
 
 Mr. Hartley, thus indulged, turned over the leaves 
 with a respectful and even tender curiosity ; for it was 
 still impossible that he could look upon each succes- 
 sive scrap, except (as he had himself premised, and 
 Miss Wainfleet had even directly insisted) as taking 
 each for some visible expression of the mind of its fair 
 possessor; though, in truth, and as Miss Wainfleet 
 had said, much of its contents comprised, not copies 
 or transcriptions of things chosen or selected, but 
 ariginals, rendered as offerings to increase the heap; 
 while some were I'elics — the precious things of friend- 
 ship ; the mere hand-writing, or the incidental senti- 
 ments — of individuals loved or known : " And how 
 valuable," said Mr. Hartley, "are often not such relics! 
 How estimable when they extend, for example, to 
 whole letters; and, from the words in which they are 
 conveyed, present memorials of virtues and affections 
 of our friends, or traits of their talent or good sense, 
 or of their esteem and kindness for ourselves, such 
 as had faded from our memory, and which only those 
 relics, after long years, recall !" 
 
 Mr. Hartley's eye, however, was first attracted by 
 an original and impromptu quatrain upon a public 
 topic — the death of the hero Nelson — in which the 
 writer makes use of the anecdote of Croesus and Solon, 
 and which he read as follows : 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-EREAST. 239 
 
 ON 
 THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL LORD NELSON, 
 
 IN THE VICTORIOUS CONFLICT OF TRAFALGAR. 
 
 Call no man (thus the sage his counsel gives), 
 Call no man fortunate while yet he lives : 
 How happv, Nelson, fled thy generous breath, 
 A victor living, victor still in death ! 
 
 These were the lines of an Englishman, written, in. 
 deed, in a far and foreign country, but at the moment 
 of the arrival of the news of the great naval victory 
 referred to, and of the death, in the midst of victory, 
 of the long-victorious victor! 
 
 But Mr. Hartley's next selection was a moral ditty, 
 which he begged permission to read aloud, for the 
 especial use of Emily and Richard. It was the render- 
 ing of a Persian thought, designed to add one to the 
 many slaps against the neglectors of Early Rising : 
 
 CHANTICLEER. 
 
 a thought from THE PERSIAN. 
 
 DosT thou know why the Bird of the Morning complains? 
 Dost thou know what he says, in his sharp-chiding strains? 
 He says, that 'tis shosvn, in the mirror of day, 
 A whole night of thy life hath unseen passed away. 
 Whilst thoa on the soft couch of indolence lay ! 
 
 . After this, Mr. Hartley read, in succession, two or 
 three longer poems, such as, like the shorter ones pre- 
 ceding, had hardly seen the light, except when Miss 
 Wainfleet's Scrap-book was unlocked ; but all were 
 what the French call " Vers de Societe," or what, in 
 English, may be called Verses of the Moment, or among 
 Friends ; and not, therefore, to be visited with any 
 
240 BURPORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 heavy criticism. The first, as Miss Wainfleet observed, 
 was a memorial of a beloved schoolfellow of hers, now 
 in India : 
 
 IN MISS B*******'S ALBUM. 
 
 A CHEERFUL and a guileless heart 
 
 (No sweeter gift from heaven!) 
 Is here, to join its earthly part, 
 
 To Georgiana given! 
 
 Stamped with the seal of Innocence, 
 
 And lit with Genius' ray; 
 Like sounds she breathes — like flowers she paints— 
 
 Is bright and glad her way ! 
 
 This book's fair pages copy well 
 
 Her spotlessness of Youth ; 
 And Time, on both, shall fix the marks 
 
 Of Friendship, Love, and Truth ! 
 
 Feb.U, 1831. 
 
 Of the second there was a longer history ; but (with 
 no small good fortune), while the poem was solely 
 sportive, the history was instructive. It was entitled, 
 " The Man in the Moon," and had full reference to 
 that celebrated personage, though not to every thing 
 which might be said concerning him. It seems that 
 the author of the stanzas had composed them by 
 injunction, as a penance, or an amende honorable, for- 
 having questioned even any part of the word of a 
 lady, as to the facts of the history in question. The 
 Man in the INIoon having been mentioned, and inqui- 
 ries made as to the possible origin of so strange a 
 fancy, the lady mentioned the tale of her nursery, that 
 the Man was an oflfending Israelite, whom Moses had 
 condemned to death, and to the Moon, for breach of 
 the sabbath ; and that the whole story was related 
 plainly in the Bible. To the author, this account 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 241 
 
 appeared so inadmissible, that he rashly ventured 
 upon the position, that the Bible contained no particle 
 of the relation ! This incredulity, boldly, though mo- 
 destly expressed, the lady would hear of no decision 
 but from the Bible itself, in some part of which, and 
 doubtless in one of the first five books, she believed 
 (becauses he had heard so) the history extant. Re- 
 search was instantly to be made. The lady was quick 
 and persevering, and a second lady (called Pallas in 
 the poem), producing two large Family Bibles, volun- 
 teered also to follow the text in one copy, while her 
 friend did the same duty in the other. Imagine, then, 
 the peril of the too hardy disputant ! Fancy the hardi- 
 hood, or else fancy the state of trepidation, in which 
 he awaited the event! The Pentateuch is long; but 
 too soon did it incontestably appear, that in the camp 
 in the wilderness, a certain Israelite, though not sent 
 by Moses to the Moon, was really put to death (that 
 is to say, stoned), for gathering sticks upon the sab- 
 bath ! It is these "sticks," then (and these " sticks^* 
 only), that have served to connect the history of the 
 Israelite with the history of the Man in the Moon; 
 for who knows not that the Man in the Moon is the 
 bearer of a bundle of " sticks?" The case, then, stood 
 as follows : the author of the lines-that-were-to-be was 
 left in c{uiet possession of his main ground, that word 
 about the Man in the Moon, the Bible contained none; 
 but Mira (the "Angelical Doctor" of the poem) had at 
 least obtained the establishment of this point, that 
 Moses did put to death an Israelite for gathering 
 " sticks" (and, perhaps, a " bundle" of them) upon the 
 sabbath ; and it was with the author of the lines, as 
 it is with the defendant in a lawsuit, that since even 
 a part of the verdict went against him, therefore he 
 
 M 
 
242 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 was not himself to go " scot free.'' But, ladies, again, 
 are sometimes as merciful as they are just; and 
 hence it happened that his sole punishment became 
 the too light one of writing the '' Man in the Moon/' 
 in which, as will be perceived, he artfully contrives to 
 take the opportunity of suggesting much in his excuse : 
 
 THE MAN IN THE MOON. 
 
 There's a Man in the Moon, as 'tis very well known, 
 
 And he carries a bundle of sticks ; 
 So, all that we're puzzled at, is to be told. 
 
 How the Man in the Moon came to fix ? 
 
 Says MiRA, 'tis he, so the legend declares, 
 
 That gathered his sticks upon Sunday ; 
 So, was first stoned to death, and then sent to the Moon, 
 
 At the camp of the Israelites one day ! 
 
 Alas ! I disputed with Mira the text, 
 
 Disbelieved that they stoned the old woodman ; 
 
 And (far worse than dunce !) I rejected the tale. 
 Calling Moses too much of a good man ! 
 
 But Mira, as wise as she's fair, had been named 
 
 (Had she lived once) Angelical Doctor; 
 And I, in disputing her biblical lore. 
 
 Might seem (shameless wight !) to have mocked her ! 
 
 Well ! the leaves are unfolded, the Israelite law 
 
 Is read in my obstinate ears; 
 And, by Pallas assisted, just as she had said. 
 
 All the sticking and stoning appears ! 
 
 Ah ! fair ones, the wreaths of your victory take, 
 
 But in justice remember your arms ; 
 And how easy the conquest was certain to prove. 
 
 Where your knowledge was joined to your charms ! 
 
 As to the phrase, " Angelical Doctor," it was ex- 
 plained, that besides the poet's allowance to bestow a 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 243 
 
 title like that upon a lady of learning, it contained an 
 allusion to its use in the middle ages, when gray-beard 
 schoolmen were accustomed to bestow such, and even 
 more exquisite appellations upon each other, if they 
 happened not to be quarrelling, and therefore loading 
 each other with abuse; and that, as to this title of 
 " Angelical Doctor" (Doctor Angelicus), invented to 
 express prodigious admiration of the attainments of a 
 certain learned man of the times, this had been fol- 
 lowed by an attempt to go beyond it ; *' Seraphic 
 Doctor" having been the complimentary addition be- 
 stowed, either in return, or in contemplation of still 
 higher merit ! The phrase, " Doctor Angelicus," in 
 the mean time, has become proverbial; and in this 
 manner appears in a couplet of one of the minor Eng- 
 lish poets of the first half of the eighteenth century : 
 
 " Lelias would be the Angelic of a school ; 
 Kneels down a wit, and rises up a fool !" 
 
 As to the rest, Mr. Paulett hinted his opinion, that the 
 fanciful and wide-spread history of the INIan in the 
 ]Moon was susceptible of a truer and more extensive 
 statement and explanation than it had ever yet re- 
 ceived, and one which would account for all his 
 accompaniments ; his bundle of " sticks," so called ; 
 his bill-hook, or his reaping-hook ; his lanthorn, and 
 his dog. The conversation closed with some allusions 
 and recitals, extolling the humorous tale of the Irish- 
 man's flight to the Moon, upon the back of the obliging 
 Eagle ; of the freedom which he took with the !Man 
 in the ]Moon's reaping-hook, or bill-hook ; and of all 
 his acquaintance with the region round; and finally 
 with a reference to the speculations pursued upon the 
 
 M 2 
 
244 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 subject of the Man in the Moon, by a certain German 
 philosopher. 
 
 " But why is it," said Mr. Hartley, at this stage of 
 the discourse ; " why is it that the name of ' German* 
 occurs for ever, either in truth or in fiction, upon all 
 fanciful, mysterious, or (shall I say it) dreaming occa- 
 sions? Why must it be a ' German philosopher* that 
 is to perplex himself about the Man in the Moon, and 
 to project the means of reaching him?" 
 
 " I need not tell you," replied Mr. Paulett, " that 
 the Germans, as a nation, are more devoted to the 
 indulgence, sometimes of high, but sometimes of fan- 
 tastical imaginings, than most other Europeans ; and 
 this, as I believe, must be the answer to your question. 
 There is no doubt, that if we compare together the 
 French, the English, and the Germans, it is the first 
 which (whether for good or for bad) are the least 
 given to intellectual and imaginative cultivation of the 
 three; and the third that is the most so, while the 
 English fill the middle place, in nature, as in the 
 list. Whether, in the mean time, it is the predomi- 
 nating Celtic origin of the French, and the predomi- 
 nating Teutonic origin of the Germans, with the mixed 
 Celtic and Teutonic blood of the English, which pro- 
 duce these several results ; or, whether causes diflferent 
 from these — causes civil, political, commercial, or all 
 of these combined, which have stamped the respective 
 characters, I presume not to determine ; but certain it 
 is, that at the present day, and as between Englishmen 
 and Germans, the studies of the first are eminent only 
 as to things physical, bodily, or corporeal; and the 
 studies of the second, only as to things intellectual and 
 imaginative; and it is with this reference that an 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 245 
 
 enlightened Frenchman has recently thus addressed 
 himself to his countrymen: — ' We (the French) con- 
 stantly imitate England in all that concerns outward 
 life, the mechanical arts, and physical refinements; 
 why, then, should we blush to borrow something from 
 kind, honest, pious, learned Germany, in what regards 
 inward life, and the nurture of the souPi'' " 
 
 But Mr. Hartley had gone only a little further, 
 through the leaves of Miss Wainfleet's Scrap-book, 
 before he found the lines which I shall next repeat, 
 and which had been addressed to herself, upon her 
 coming of age. Miss Wain fleet had the less dithculty 
 in hearing them now read, because they were without 
 compliments, and contained nothing but good wishes, 
 joined with moral warnings of the uncertainties of all 
 states of human life, and sole certainty of the happi- 
 ness of virtue : — 
 
 TO MISS B. W. 
 
 ON HER ATTAINING HER TWENTY-FIRST YEAR. 
 
 Belinda, if the Twelfth of May 
 Could ever yet inspire my lay, 
 How deeplier still its hours engage, 
 Now that it sees thee " come of age !" 
 
 Launched fully on the expanded sea, 
 "What is the course that waits on thee ? 
 ^Yhat gentle, or what bounding wave, 
 Shall thy gay ship, blithe rippling, lave? 
 "SYhat gales, or soft or strong, shall blow,. 
 To bid thee on thy voyage go ? 
 For now (no more the haven-port 
 Of springing life thy sole resort). 
 
 * M. Victor Cousin, on Education in Prussia ; who is here quoted, 
 however, without any wish to promote the objects of the modern 
 teachers of " State Education." 
 
246 BVBFOKD COTTAGE, AMD 
 
 BefiHe dKe an dags «|WB wide. 
 And call ffcee tB Ae s^liiterii^ tide! 
 UKCfltaia tide! tfcat duaes tf»-daj^ 
 Its !g;recB depths, aad its hIwo- sptaj; — 
 Tide, M wh»se awwtk aad tta^pnl Imast, 
 The tnKtia^ halej«> Udlds Imt nest; 
 Tet, liat, to-mnerwmm, whisis •■ b%h 
 Its ragmg ImI1«ws Ukram^ the dc j ; 
 Or spreads, a Je ag the dreary rhnre . 
 Its daxh doD waiFe, and sallai raar ! 
 
 Bat thee, Belisda, be thj lot 
 (Ohbeithrijght!) or bright ar sat ; 
 ~ T soaad scaoe, aad paicst heart, 
 
 ^? with the best pilot's art; 
 .' saaduae s;ild thj waj, 
 "v'^, at tises, the day ; 
 . isides shall stiD b^iead, 
 - - ek attead ; 
 rr TTcry 
 
 •^hed by ae ! 
 T^ ? Mow, 
 : tby|wa«r; 
 
 - ore, 
 
 ■tl drive, 
 
 ■ ■ - - ■„§ strive ; 
 
 Jl fofl. 
 
 I: -- 
 
 I:' -.:., 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 247 
 
 CHAP. xvm. 
 
 Moloch, bloody king:! MILTOH. 
 
 For several succeeding mornings, I still fonnd the 
 African traveller to be one of the party at the Cottage, 
 and still continued to hear him make those comments 
 upon what he had heard and seen, which contributed 
 to maintain his favourite position, that the manners 
 and customs of all nations are essentially and in 
 principle alike ; so as to leave little room for variety, 
 except in the rudeness or the polish under which they 
 are displayed. He was fond of this view of human 
 history, " which united," he said, " in the ideas of 
 such as contemplated it, the generations and families 
 of mankind, and simplified so much of what they had 
 to learn concerning their species, as creatures scattered 
 over so many countries, speaking so many languages, 
 and living through so many ages ; by showing that this 
 species, like the species of the inferior animals, has spe- 
 cific habits, to vihich, from its own nature, and from the 
 nature of the things around it, it naturally, and there- 
 fore constantly and uniformly yields." 
 
 " If we instance," said he, upon one of those occa- 
 sions when I listened to him the longest; " if we 
 instance the love of music and dancing, and the man- 
 ner and seasons of their practice, we find all as widely 
 and as passionately followed in Africa as elsew here ; 
 and elsewhere as passionately and as widely, as among 
 
248 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the Negro nations of Africa! It would be as diffi- 
 cult to detach singing and dancing from the habits of 
 the Negro, as to change the colour of his skin. I do 
 not think that he could live a single week in his own 
 country, without the enjoyment of those recreations. 
 In every rank, also, of African society, from the 
 monarch to the slave, he is passionately fond of in- 
 strumental music in particular; so, that if the poet 
 Goldsmith was able to travel through France and the 
 rest of Europe, depending, quite or almost, for his 
 bread upon the admiration of his flute; in like manner, 
 a European fiddler, without any extraordinary preten- 
 sion to talent, and destitute of a single cowry (provided 
 he were not blind, for, in that case, through the most 
 distressing superstition, he would be regarded as a 
 wicked and punished person), would meet, from every 
 Negro people, with the freest supply of food, and 
 of every other necessary. The Negroes learn with 
 eagerness and facility the music of foreigners; and 
 many of the newest and popular English airs, that 
 now or lately have been heard in the streets of our 
 towns and villages, are now also singing, with Negro 
 voices, in the towns and villages of Africa. Once, in 
 an inland city, when I and my companions were re- 
 turning, by moonlight, to our cabin, and sighing at 
 the delay which still kept us in that foreign region, 
 our ears (as if to make us feel the more deeply our 
 misfortune) were saluted by the strains of a native 
 singer, pouring forth the English air of ' Home, sweet 
 home* !' As to dancing, pursued as a social amuse- 
 
 * Tbe words of this favourite little song are by Mr. John Howard 
 Payne, the American author of Brutus, Clari, and many other highly 
 popular dramatic pieces. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 249 
 
 ment, all these nations indulge in it at the same 
 seasons, and with the same vivacity, as ourselves. 
 Often have I witnessed their evening diversions in this 
 way, continued, beneath a spreading tree, sometimes 
 till the approach of morning; and as often (I shall 
 take the opportunity to add) have I been delighted with 
 the contemplation of the perfect harmony and kindly 
 feeling that prevailed among the dancers. A pleasing 
 and romantic effect is produced by the silvery light of 
 the moon, blended with the ruddiness of the flames 
 of the fires lighted to keep away wild beasts, thrown 
 upon the sable countenances of the happy group ; 
 along with the wide spread shadow of the majestic 
 tree, darkening the ground, and with the moving 
 figures, gaily crossing and recrossing it. During the 
 intervals of dance and song, the party are employed 
 in eating or drinking, or else in renewing the deadened 
 fires; after either of which employments, they begin 
 again with a fresh ardour. Their songs, of which the 
 words usually refer to the circumstances of the moment, 
 are composed extempore by one of the party, who 
 recites it to his or her companions, while each of these 
 is catching up the words, and joining in the tune. How 
 similar, all this, to the manners of our own country ? 
 The elegant Rogers sings thus of our English villagers : 
 
 * Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village green, 
 With magic tints to harmonize the scene : 
 Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke. 
 When round the ruins of their ancient oak, 
 The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, 
 And games and carols closed the busy day !' 
 
 And Campbell (though I greatly doubt the local pro- 
 priety of the picture) paints a similar scene among the 
 English settlers at his Wyoming: 
 
 M 3 
 
250 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ' Delightful Wyoming, beneath thy skies 
 
 The happy shepherd-swains had nought to do, 
 But feed their flocks on green declivities, 
 
 Or skim, perchance, the lake with light canoe, 
 From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew : 
 
 With timbrel when beneath the forests brown. 
 Thy lovely maidens would the dance renew ; 
 
 And aye those sunny mountains, halfway down, 
 Would echo flageolet from some romantic town !' 
 
 *' I call this M?'. CampbeWs Wyoming, and receive 
 the picture as one from his native Scotland; for 
 romance, and ' romantic towns,' have little to do with 
 the English settlements in America; and American 
 history and observation would rather place ' rum- 
 carriers,* or fur-traders, at ' fair Wyoming,' than ' shep- 
 herd-swains,' and 'timbrel' and 'flageolet,' at the era 
 of which Mr. Campbell writes. The poet places his 
 * Wyoming' upon ' Pennsylvania's shore,' — 
 
 * On Susquehannah's side, fair Wyoming ;' 
 
 but the Pennsylvanians profess to discover but little in 
 his beautiful poem, to remind them, of the manners, at 
 least, of their still beautiful abode ! 
 
 " But when, from the English settlements in the 
 new world, we get back to any ancient country of 
 the old, it is then that in verity the same scenes 
 perpetually recur; and, whether in Africa, in Greece, 
 in Italy, or other regions, we see and hear, at every 
 step, the song, the dance, the improvising — 
 
 * The umbrage of the wood, so cool and dim, 
 The moving figures — ' 
 
 a ' pipe' too, and a ' drum;' — but I am quoting Lord 
 Byron, who, in an entire stanza, gives us an account 
 of a dance in Greece, which, abating the complexions 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 25] 
 
 of the dancers, you will find the exact similitude of a 
 dance in Negroland : — 
 
 * And, further on, a group of Grecian girls 
 
 (The first and tallest her white kerchief waving) 
 Were strung together like a row of pearls ; 
 
 Linked hand in hand, and dancing; each, too, having 
 Down her white neck long floating auburn curls — 
 
 The least of which would set ten poets raving : 
 Their leader sang — and bounded to her song, 
 
 With choral step and voice, the virgin throng.' 
 
 " As to the charms, in the mean time," continued 
 Mr. Hartley, " of the Negro vocal music, when, upon 
 other occasions than these, it is heard at a distance, in 
 the midst of solitary woods, it has the most plaintive 
 and pleasing efiPect, equalling in softness any that I 
 have heard in more civilized countries. I and others 
 have lain awake in our tents, at night, for hours 
 too-ether, listening: to its mild and melancholy tones. 
 Once, at the visit of a chief, accompanied by about 
 fifty of his wives, and the party stationing themselves 
 at a short distance from us, the women struck up a 
 native tune, which they sung loudly and with much 
 feeling:; indeed, with a solemnity and pathos that 
 reminded all of us of the most impressive sacred 
 music of our native Europe. As soon as the voices 
 of the females had ceased, an instrumental band played 
 a lively air, in which, again, the former, were occa- 
 sionally joined ; but, though the Negroes are as fond, 
 or even more so, of instrumental, than of vocal music, 
 I must acknowledge that they have no native instru- 
 ments, except very vile ones.^^ 
 
 '' These are pleasing pictures, I confess," said 
 Mr. Paulett, " of Negro life in Africa ; and, as vocal 
 music, in man, as in the birds, depends only upon 
 
252 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 natural capacities, it ought not, perhaps, so much to 
 surprise us, to discover, that, in truth, it begins among 
 the rudest nations, and only descends from them to the 
 more refined. I have always heard (T think) the voices 
 of the women, among the American Indians, the South 
 Sea Islanders, and every people like them, exceedingly 
 extolled. But have the Negroes other arts, in any 
 degree of excellence ?" 
 
 " In this respect, you must distinguish the Negro 
 nations from many others in Africa, which latter are 
 properly pastoral nations, and very ignorant of the 
 arts. But the Negroes live in cities, towns, and vil- 
 lages; build temples and bridges; cultivate the earth, 
 hold markets, and pursue traffic ; and among these are 
 several useful, as well as even elegant arts. They tan, 
 dye, and work in iron ; their smiths are surprisingly 
 skilful in their profession; but, though hundreds of 
 these latter are scattered over the country, it is still 
 evidence that their art is far from common, that they 
 are held in distinguished respect, and treated with the 
 utmost deference by every rank. These ironsmiths of 
 Africa, like the goldsmiths of the East, execute the 
 finest and most curious works with great celerity; and 
 with so few and such clumsy tools and conveniences, 
 as leaves a European in amazement at their success. 
 But thus it has been in all these ancient countries, from 
 the most ancient times." 
 
 " Their smiths, then, are their most able artisans?" 
 inquired Mr. Paulett. 
 
 " By no means," returned his friend : *' their leather 
 is tanned and dressed, as well, if not much better, 
 than leather of English manufacture. The variety of 
 their dyes, and the exquisite colours which they give 
 to their cottons, have always been the subjects of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 253 
 
 remark; and they have saddlers, shoemakers, and 
 tailors, who, for in^^enuity in their trades, are to be 
 excelled by few. As to fine arts, their skill in paint- 
 ino- is little or none; but in carving or sculpture 
 (a fine art w^hich appears to be of earlier growth than 
 painting), they produce specimens w hich merit extreme 
 praise. With Pagan Africa, as with Pagan Greece 
 and Rome and other countries, sculpture is an art 
 invited and cuUivated by the voice and under the pro- 
 tection of relio-ion. The fashionins^ of idols occasions 
 a constant demand, and demands even a pious solici- 
 tude for excellence ; and, accordingly, the Negro sculp- 
 tors bring forth figures of men, crocodiles, snakes, and 
 other objects, either detached, or carved in bas-relief; 
 which, especially contrasting the rudeness of the in- 
 struments used, with the fineness and delicacy of some 
 of the indentions, excite admiration for their perse- 
 vering industry, and most ingenious labour/^ 
 
 '' I am considerably astonished," interrupted Mr. 
 Paulett ; " but what you say of the Negro idols renews 
 the impatience which I have long felt, to hear some- 
 thing of their religious faith and worship, and of 
 the inside of those feteesh-huts of which you have 
 spoken i'" 
 
 " You shall hear, then," returned IMr. Hartley ; 
 " and those topics will naturally lead us to the more 
 painful ones with which I have before threatened you. 
 It is observable (to begin), that while the form of the 
 huts in which these nations dwell is always circular, 
 the form of their feteesh-huts, or houses of their gods, 
 is always square. The large but solitary feteesh-hut, 
 which I mentioned as standing near the entrance of 
 the town of Bookhar, in the empire of Yariba, has a 
 number of figures upon the exterior of its walls, carved 
 
254 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 in bas-relief, in various attitudes ; some kneeling, some 
 recumbent; and to these, as well as to those within, 
 the people pay adoration, and ascribe miraculous per- 
 formances. But the royal feteesh-hut in Catunga is, 
 perhaps, the largest and most richly ornamented of 
 any in the interior of Africa. Like others, it is a 
 perfectly square building; but the length of each of 
 its sides is more than sixty feet. Immediately oppo- 
 site the entrance is a gigantic human figure, carved in 
 wood, and bearing the figure of a lion upon its head ; 
 all beautifully executed. Twenty-six or twenty-seven 
 other figures, carved in bas-relief, occupy the adjacent 
 sides of the hut; but all in a kneeling posture, and 
 with their faces turned toward the larger and principal 
 figure, to which they are obviously in the act of paying 
 their devotions. Upon the heads of all the smaller 
 figures, corresponding with that upon the head of the 
 principal figure, are figures of animals, one to each ; 
 as, panthers, hyaenas, snakes, and crocodiles, exqui- 
 sitely carved, and painted, or rather stained, with a 
 variety of colours^. The floor is stained of a crimson 
 colour, and very highly polished. Hither the king, 
 accompanied by his nobility or chiefs, is accustomed 
 to repair, at times either of ordinary or extraordinary 
 devotion; and here to oflfer praises in prosperity, or 
 prayers and humiliations in adversity. Upon entering 
 the temple, the king instantly uncovers his head, and 
 prostrates himself upon the floor; an example which 
 is as instantly followed by those who wait upon him. 
 
 * A similar usage, of placing upon the beads of the idols figures 
 of the animals that are their emblems, appears to have prevailed 
 among the ancient Saxons, our own ancestors, as well as among 
 other nations ; and armorial crests may be thought in some shape 
 of this origin, considering the close relationship of heraldry to the 
 religion of its day. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 200 
 
 In this posture all remain, sometimes for an hour or 
 more, expressing themselves aloud, or else in an under 
 tone ; and either lamenting-, exulting-, extolling, or be- 
 seeching. Into this particular sanctuary, none of the 
 lower classes of the people are permitted to enter ; 
 with the exception of a poor old woman, whose busi- 
 ness it is to keep it clean, and who remains without 
 whenever the king is within the temple. Only around 
 the external walls of this building, the common peo- 
 ple prostrate themselves and pray ; but there are fifty 
 other feteesh-huts in Catunga, upon smaller and less 
 beautiful scales, which are open to every one; in all 
 of which public worship is performed before sunrise ; 
 and to which individuals can always repair through- 
 out the day, upon any movement of individual devo- 
 tion — of individual hope or fear, desire or enjoyment — 
 sorrow or delis^ht. To every feteesh-hut belonsrs one 
 or more feteesh-man or priest. 
 
 " The feteesh-huts in Xegroland, like the churches 
 in Europe, are sometimes rather profaned, by employ- 
 ment for temporal uses, as merely large buildings, for 
 the moment, happen to be needed ; and sometimes, 
 exactly like the churches of ancient Europe, they are 
 used for objects partly temporal and partly spiritual, 
 that is, as courts of justice. In Africa still, as anciently 
 in Europe, the ordeal of bitter water, and other forms 
 of divine judgment, are occasionally resorted to; and, 
 in these cases, the ordeal, or feteesh, is performed in 
 a feteesh-hut, and administered by a feteesh-man, or 
 priest. There are, perhaps, feteesh-huts expressly for 
 this latter purpose ; since, in Badagry, I have seen one 
 which is used only for ordeals, and the walls of which 
 are disfigured with human skulls and bones, whitened 
 by time, and as if placed there for emblems of the 
 
256 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 vengeance of offended justice, and for the terror of 
 evil-doers. 
 
 "In Africa, as anciently in Europe, the administra- 
 tion of criminal justice, as also, indeed, the whole admi- 
 nistration of public affairs, is intimately connected 
 with the religious ritual. If the African feteesh-huts 
 are courts of law and of justice, so, also, were our own 
 churches, thence denominated 'basilics;' and if, in 
 Africa, the priesthood supplies the lawyers and judges ; 
 so, also, did it anciently among ourselves; where, as 
 a further coincidence, we may remark, every diocess 
 has its bishop's court, for adjudication upon offences 
 against religion, and for other matters of ecclesiastical 
 law, and which was anciently held in a church or 
 chapel, as in the instance of the chapel of " Our Lady,'* 
 adjoining the church of the Holy Saviour, at London, 
 and pertaining to the diocess of Winchester. In the 
 cathedral at Exeter, and probably in other similar 
 edifices throughout the kingdom, and through Europe, 
 there is preserved, and shown to visitors, the skeleton 
 or anatomy of one or more murderers; thus deposited, 
 and thus displayed, as need not be doubted, from 
 following of ancient usage, and for aiding to impress 
 beholders with the dread of crime and of its reward. 
 Criminal ordeals, or trials, but under religious forms, 
 were anciently held, in England, and in all the other 
 parts of Europe, in churches, as now, in Africa, in 
 feteesh-houses ; and, in the former countries, the 
 bishops and inferior clergy presided at those trials, 
 as now the priests in Africa. 
 
 " Thus far, then," continued Mr. Hartley, " the reli- 
 gious worship, though Pagan, of these people, may 
 seem to you not less innocent, and even not less 
 becoming, than any other of the least objectionable cA' 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 257 
 
 the practices which I have resembled to them ; but I 
 must plunge you, without further preface, amid the 
 horrors of very different rites, performed, not in the 
 feteesh-huts, but at the feteesh-tree. 
 
 " Religion has always had for its objects, or for its 
 single object, the combined worship of the divinity, 
 and the maintenance of the peace and order of human 
 life, which is the practical worship; so, that among 
 the Negro nations at present, as among those of Eu- 
 rope formerly, religious festivals combine both sacri- 
 fice and civil and criminal justice, an original to 
 which, in reality, we owe, in our own country, the 
 institution of the four terms of our courts of law, our 
 Cjuarter-sessions of the peace, and other c^uarterly 
 arrangements, answering to the four principal reli- 
 oious festivals of the vear, the seasons at which, 
 among other things, all public justice, criminal and 
 civil, was anciently administered* ; so, that, at least if 
 the practice of ourselves and our ancestors be a recom- 
 mendation, it is not of the principle, thus recognised, 
 perhaps, by all nations, but of the barbarity dis- 
 played in the practice, as still preserved among the 
 Negro nations, that we have reason to complain. 
 These religious festivals, which, in Africa, include 
 anniversaries of the deaths of ancestors, are called 
 ' Customs,' and take place at least monthly and annu- 
 ally, at periods determined by the lunar motions, and 
 by the luni-solar year. I must add, that in Badagry, 
 the slaves who are brought thither for sale, and remain 
 unsold, are frec^uently drowned by their owners, to 
 
 * We are probably to find in these traditionary usages, the origin 
 of the Assize-balls, shows, and general carnival of our half-yearly 
 Assizes. The balls are doabtless the remains of sacrificial dances. 
 
258 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 save further cost and trouble; but, as to numerous 
 thieves, and other public offenders, along with the 
 remnant of unpurchased slaves, not drowned with their 
 companions in misfortune, these are reserved by the 
 Badag-rians to be slaughtered, either at the monthly, 
 quarterly, half-yearly, or yearly ' Customs.' Prisoners 
 of war, also, are put to death upon the same occa- 
 sions ; and what I am about to state includes a picture 
 of part of the odious usages attendant upon these 
 acts. The respective victims, or such at least as are 
 prisoners of war, being conducted, one after the other, 
 to the feteesh-tree, have a flask of rum given them to 
 drink ; which, while they are in the act of enjoying, 
 an executioner steals imperceptibly behind them, and, 
 with a heavy club, inflicts a violent blow upon the 
 back part of the head, so as often to dash out the 
 brains at once, and make a second blow unnecessary. 
 This done, the body is carried to the feteesh-hut, 
 where, a gourd-shell, or a calabash, being provided to 
 receive the blood, the head is cut off with an axe ; 
 and other hands are next engaged in opening the 
 breast, so as to extract the heart, which, the same 
 instant, warm and quivering with life, is presented, to 
 the king first, and afterward to his wives and warriors ; 
 and all of these having made an incision in it with 
 their teeth, and partaken of the foamy blood, which is 
 at the same time presented, the heart is afterward dis- 
 played to the entire multitude, upon the point of a 
 tall spear. From the commencement of the proceed- 
 ings under the tree, the chiefs raise a song or chaunt, 
 the king's wives, and the nearest spectators, joining in 
 the choruses, and only cease when the heart is carried 
 from the spot. As it proceeds, the strain is successively 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 259 
 
 repeated by the whole multitude ; and the words, that 
 are thus sung- or chaunled, express the most vindictive 
 and sanguinary fury. 
 
 " From the feteesh-tree, and back, each heart, toge- 
 ther with the calabash of blood and headless body, is 
 paraded through the town, followed by hundreds of 
 spearmen and a thick crowd of people. Whoever 
 expresses a wish to bite the heart, or drink the blood, 
 has either of them immediately presented to him for 
 that purpose; the multitude breaking out, at such a 
 moment, into fresh songs and dances. What, at length, 
 remains of the heart, is given to the dogs ; while the 
 remainder of the body, cut into c^uarters, is hung upon 
 the feteesh-tree, where it is left to swing in the air, or 
 to fall decayed upon the ground, and to be devoured 
 either by the birds or beasts of prey. 
 
 " I shall take an opportunity,'^ concluded Mr. Hart- 
 ley, *' of telling you what relationship I imagine to 
 subsist between this feteesh-tree and its bloody rites, 
 and the divinity, whose presence in it is supposed to 
 make it feteesh, or holy; with the 'bloody' Moloch of 
 Phoenician history; still with our Druidical sacrifices 
 and punishments ; and with all our existing notions of 
 divine and human justice. In the meantime, I must 
 let you know, that I think this divinity the very same 
 with that of whom iNIilton speaks elsewhere so agree- 
 ably : 
 
 ' ■ I am the Power 
 
 Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower ;' 
 
 and who is, again, the ' Sylvan ' of his II Pensieroso, 
 where he talks of 
 
 ' Shadows brown, that Svlvan loves, 
 
 Of pine, or monumental oak.' " 
 
260 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 The warbled complaint of the suffering grove. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 The season, though not cold, was now considerably- 
 advanced. The trees were bare, and the waters swollen. 
 There was much wind and rain ; but, in the fields, the 
 daisies, and on the banks, and in the woods, the prim- 
 roses, were springing; and in the gardens, though the 
 dahlias had long since been cut down, and consigned, 
 even in their enduring bloom, to the fate of all the 
 gardener's sweepings, they were succeeded by chry- 
 santhemums, pink, yellow, white, and orange; and 
 along with these there were still flowering the China- 
 roses and the three-coloured and inodorous violet, or 
 little common heart'srcase ; a flower which was even 
 succeeded by a temporary show of crocuses and snow- 
 drops. At intervals the skies were dark and heavy ; 
 but at other intervals bright and gay ; and though, now, 
 both myself and my mate were glad to pass more of 
 our time than lately within the palings of the village 
 gardens, and especially within the enclosures of Bur- 
 ford Cottage ; yet there I mingled cheerfully my 
 songs, at noon, and night, and morning, with those of 
 the wren, and with the twitter of the tit or twit-mouse. 
 One only day the calm of our lives was interrupted by 
 a moment of terror, not proceeding, indeed, from the 
 hand of man, but at least as overwhelming as any 
 that men could have occasioned us ! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST, 261 
 
 In the woods, we had to fear the weazels and pole- 
 cats, those creeping-, sly, but fierce and sanguinary 
 hunters, whose leap is capture, and whose bite and 
 suction death ; but in the gardens, and upon the com- 
 mons, sometimes, though more rarely, the hovering 
 hawk, or the keen gliding glead or kite, filled us with 
 the deadliest alarms, and sometimes snatched away, 
 before our eyes, the most painted and most tuneful of 
 our neighbours ; extinguishing, at an instant, the light 
 of its beauty, and the music of its song ! To-day, it 
 was our own turn to be threatened with the beak of a 
 bird of prey ; for a hovering hawk, with his piercing 
 eye, had marked us from above, as we were picking 
 and flitting here and there across the lawn; and, 
 after poising for some moments in the air, he suddenly 
 dropped, as it were like a stone, and with an aim 
 taken to a hair^s-breadth, and directed against my 
 beloved and olive-coloured mate ! 
 
 What, then, could have saved my mate, and how 
 could she have escaped the descent of the hawk, itself 
 a living arrow, feathered at once in wings and tail, 
 barbed with a sure and penetrating beak, directed 
 through all its flight by an unerring eye, and winged 
 by the force of a ravening will, and weight of bone and 
 muscle ; what, but the happy misdirection of Emily's 
 battledore, which, handled at some distance, but which 
 yet, by means of a strong but unskilful blow, suddenly 
 drove the shuttlecock, which she and her brother were 
 beating to and fro in the air, almost to where we were 
 feeding; though, a moment before, we had not be- 
 lieved any one near us ! The white feathers of the 
 shuttlecock danced like lightning in our eyes, and we 
 fled like lightning from the spot; the one this way, 
 and the other that. Moment of horror and dismay, 
 
262 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 but Still an event that saved and not destroyed us ! 
 The danger, however, was not yet at an end. 
 
 The hawk himself had been somewhat disconcerted 
 by the curve described by the vt^hite shuttlecock, but 
 still more by the direction in which it had driven my 
 mate, so as wholly to defeat his aim. Wheeling, how- 
 ever, more quick than thought, and piercing the too- 
 yielding air with whatever nicety he chose to dart his 
 way, he followed my poor mate with a swiftness which, 
 first for one moment, and then another, seemed to 
 forbid all expectation of escape ! Scared myself be- 
 yond description, and the whole occurrence hardly 
 occupying an instant of time, I should have been 
 ignorant, while it lasted, of the peril of my beloved ; 
 but that by one faint and gasping scream, which she 
 uttered as she flew, I was made to know her and her 
 danger by the sound of her voice, and to feel the 
 misery of our misfortune ! But, the next moment, she 
 had flown into the close though naked branches of a 
 lilac-bush, which gave no passage to the hawk's out- 
 stretched wings, even though he turned them obliquely, 
 as, at the first, he seemed resolved to follow her; and 
 she, after two or three times experiencing the shelter 
 of the coverts, and as often becoming exposed again 
 in the open spaces, at length flew breathless through 
 some small open rails, and into the adjoining planta- 
 tion ; upon which the hawk gave up the pursuit, and 
 flew into the sky 1 All was, to me, still confused and 
 doubtful. Had he carried my mate with him in his 
 beak? I had reason to believe, indeed, that he had not; 
 for, in that case, his flight would probably have been 
 only to some neighbouring tree, where, upon the first 
 branch that offered, he would have devoured her ! A 
 minute after, my best hopes were satisfied, and all my 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 263 
 
 fears dispelled, when, from beyond the narrow railing, 
 I heard her weak but reassuring voice ! I joined her on 
 the instant ; and we sat for some time upon the slender 
 and secluded twigs, leaving nature to recompose our 
 spirits, and to still the boisterous throbbings of our 
 hearts ! And nature did its office ; we grew calm, and 
 recovered our vivacity ; though without so far forgetting 
 our peril, as not to live and move with more caution 
 and circumspection (not to say timidity) than even at 
 any time before ! 
 
 But the season of Christmas was now approaching; 
 and with it, if mirth became more frequent at Burford 
 Cottage, tranquillity suffered in proportion. Besides 
 the occasional stay of Mr. Hartley, there had now 
 appeared, as I have before related. Miss Wainfleet, 
 the niece of Mrs. Paulett, who came to spend the 
 holidays, and who added much to the enjoyments of 
 the family, particularly those of her aunt and little 
 Emily; and, through her talents, cheerfulness, and 
 sweetness of disposition, the house was now^ enlivened 
 and embellished with successive hours of singing, 
 dancing, reading, and drawing, and the performance 
 of many amiable actions and estimable duties ; and in 
 the recollection of the former of which I cannot omit 
 to mention the kindness habitually manifested by Miss 
 Wainfleet, both in words and deeds, toward Robin- 
 Red-breast and his mate ! 
 
 The w eather, as I have already given reason to sup- 
 pose, was still generally fine enough to allow every 
 one to appear in the garden and plantation, and to 
 enjoy walks and drives abroad; so that I had each 
 in frequent view, and could often listen to their 
 pleasing conversation. At other times, during at least 
 
264 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the early parts of the day, the mild temperature 
 of the south-westerly winds, and the soft gilding of 
 even a December's sun, encouraged the opening of 
 at least one window of the apartment in which the 
 family sat ; and thus, from the adjacent clump of trees 
 and shrubs, I continued to hear both the prattle of the 
 children, and the discourse, either grave or cheerful, of 
 those of riper years. As usual, too, the sound of my 
 song brought back (as I was not unwilling) the thoughts 
 of the company to me and my species; and, whenever 
 any thing was said upon either of those subjects, the 
 reader may be sure that I did not lose a syllable, at 
 least with my own consent. As to what, however, 
 I am more immediately about to mention, it afforded 
 me more pain than pleasure; for I was rather sorry 
 to find that anybody knew so much as, from Miss 
 Wainfleet's account it was plain they did, concerning 
 Red-breasts' nests and hiding-places ! 
 
 One morning, when my song, and the talk it 
 occasioned, had reminded Miss Wainfleet of a little 
 poem she had lately copied into her Scrap-book, 
 and when she had vainly attempted to repeat a 
 part of it to her young friends from memory, she 
 fetched, at length, the book itself, and read the whole 
 to her audience ; but observing, that it w-as by no 
 means new, and that she was chiefly led to produce it 
 by the applicableness of its title to the case of their 
 present songster. It was a poem, " On the Singing 
 of a Red-breast late in Autumn :" 
 
 " Dear harmless bird ! that still, with sprightly lay. 
 Dost chase sad silence from the drooping grove, 
 
 And cheer my lonely walk at close of day, 
 
 As pensive through the rustling copse I rove: 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 265 
 
 ^' Long since, the sportive songsters of the spring 
 
 Have ceased their strains, and trembling now deplore 
 The approach of winter, or with active wing 
 
 Speed their swift flight to seek some milder shore. 
 
 *' But thou, contented, still delight'st to live 
 Within thj native cliiue, still pour thj song, 
 
 Though winter frown, from morn to latest eve, 
 And spring's gay music through the year prolong. 
 
 ** Dear harmless bird ! how bright in thee displaved, 
 
 Friendship nnbiased and sincere we view ; 
 Which still, when wealth and short-lived honours fade, 
 
 '3Iid Fortune's chilling frowns continues true !" 
 
 But the reading of this little poem in compliment to 
 my species (for I could not take it as peculiarly 
 addressed to myself) was only a signal for the recol- 
 lection and reading of more, till the list almost as 
 much surprised as flattered me; showing, as it did, a 
 new page in our history, or painting in still stronger 
 colours than I had before seen it, the warm and tender 
 interest which such numbers of the human race (in- 
 cluding those distinguished for sentiment and genius) 
 have taken in the charms and ways of little birds so 
 humble as ourselves! Richard, Emily, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Paulett, could each, either from memory, or by bringing 
 forward great or little books, add something to this 
 store; and now, for the first time, I began to admire 
 the songs of men and women, nearly as warmly as 
 they admire ours ! In one particular, above all, they 
 reflected as much honour upon the singers, as they 
 imparted pleasure to my bosom, and might have been 
 the songs of angels, rather than of men, or even of 
 birds; for all were songs of mercy; all spoke of ten- 
 derness and love, directing, as they likewise did, that 
 virtue, and that emotion, to the regard and welfare of us 
 
 N 
 
266 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Robin-red-breasts ! The following, from this cause, was 
 not the least of my favourites in the collection : 
 
 « ODE TO THE RED-BREAST. 
 
 " O THOU ! that with thj sweetly warbling song 
 Cheer'st the dull hours when other tribes are fled 
 
 To nooks and holes, and every tuneful tongue 
 
 Is mute; where hid'st thou now thy pretty head? 
 
 " While northern blasts with bitter chillness blow, 
 And groves around are clad in stiffened snow ; 
 How dost thou, meekest, loveliest minstrel, bear, 
 Winter's dire cold, and penury severe ? 
 
 " Hither, thy flight, oh ! hither, fearless wing; 
 I'll cherish thee, and feed thee, till the Spring, 
 Her smiles resuming, calls thee hence away. 
 O'er hills, dales, woods, and open fields to stray* !" 
 
 In the course, however, of these readings and re- 
 citals, it chanced, that in not one of the best, but one 
 beginning with this promising line — 
 
 " Hark at the little Robin's douhle note" 
 
 the poet had ventured upon a stanza descriptive of a 
 Red-breast's nest : 
 
 " And, mark ! when Spring enamels the bright scene 
 With boundless carpet of enlivening green ; 
 When flowers, eye-pleasing, rear their showy heads, 
 And odoriferous scents through ether spreads ; 
 Then does the Robin build in neighbouring tree, 
 And cheerful breeds a helpless progeny." 
 
 But Richard interrupted the reading of the poem, 
 to observe, that he had never been able, till then, to 
 hear where the Red-breasts built their nests ! 
 
 " Ah, Richard,'' said Miss Wainfleet, " and, even 
 
 * " From the Latin of H. F. Gary." 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 267 
 
 now, you have heard what is not true ! You must not 
 believe every thing which you hear read out of a book, 
 but often wait till you see whether or not some other 
 book, or other authority, does not contradict it ; and if 
 this latter case should happen, then you must inquire 
 still further, and find out which of the two stories may 
 be trusted I As to poetry, it ought to be the depository 
 of truth upon all subjects, for it is the proper voice of 
 learning and philosophy, as well as of sentiment and 
 imagination ; but poets, like other writers, are some- 
 times deficient in knowledge, and the present is one 
 of the examples. I find, from writings of more parti- 
 cularity and credit upon such a subject, that the Red- 
 breast, no more than the lark, ever builds in trees, 
 but always upon or near the ground." 
 
 " Oh tell me," said a playmate visitor, '* how to 
 find a Red-breast's nest upon the ground ; for that 
 would be so much easier than to climb a tree I" 
 
 " I have no wish," said ^liss Wainfleet, " to enable 
 you to find one; and, fortunately, these birds them- 
 selves take so much pains to conceal the spot, and to 
 prevent your suspecting their retreat, were you ever so 
 near to it, that I can tell you all I know about it, 
 and yet be free from any fear of leading you to the 
 discovery. The Red-breasts somewhat vary the situ- 
 ation of their nests, according to the opportunities of 
 concealment which particular places afford to them ; 
 but, in England, they usually build by the roots of 
 trees, in some snug situation near the ground ; or else 
 in the crevice of some mossy bank, or at the foot of a 
 ' hawthorn in hedge-rows, or in a tuft of strong grass, 
 or where they can hide beneath the covert of the closest 
 woods." 
 
 " But, INIiss Wainfleet," said Emily, " I think that 
 
 N 2 
 
268 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 nests about the roots of trees, or in the crevices of 
 bankS; or in tufts of grass, must be very easy to find 
 out ?" 
 
 " Not so, my clear," replied Miss Wainfleet ; " be- 
 cause, besides their other precautions, these little 
 birds have many ingenious ways of contriving the 
 path to their nest to be so obscure, and to have so 
 little the appearance of what it really is, that they 
 commonly deceive all strangers, and that even nothing 
 but an extreme mischance is likely to discover it. 
 
 " The pretty creatures,^^ said Emily, " I shall now 
 love them more than ever, from thinking of their 
 ingenuity and carefulness ! But pray tell us what 
 they do?" 
 
 " Where the situation," answered Miss Wainfleet, 
 " is less naturally secure than usual, they often cover 
 both the nest, and a long winding entrance to it, with 
 leaves; so that the whole seems an accidental little 
 heap, under which they find their way through an 
 opening too small to be taken notice of by any but 
 themselves!" 
 
 *' Is it possible !" cried Mrs. Paulett, in admiration. 
 " Are these birds to be thus added to the number of 
 those ingenious contrivers and mechanics with which 
 animated nature so extensively abounds !" 
 
 " It is said so, I assure you," replied Miss Wain- 
 fleet, who was about to continue in her own way, but 
 yet yielded to the impatience of Emily, who begged to 
 know of what material the nest was made ? 
 
 " Of dried leaves, my dearest Emily," answered 
 Miss Wainfleet, " for its outermost shell ; but, within 
 this, of moss and the hair of cattle ; and lastly, of 
 feathers plucked from the breasts of the parent birds 
 themselves." 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 269 
 
 " And how many eggs are there in a nest," de- 
 manded the bird's-nesting neighbour; "and what are 
 their marks and colours?" 
 
 " The eggs/' said Miss Wainfleet, '•' are said to be 
 commonly from five to seven ; so that the Red-breast 
 has a large brood, for so small a bird ; and they are of 
 a gray or dullish white colour, with reddish streaks." 
 
 " It is plain, then," said Mrs. Paulett, recurring to 
 what had been said about the coverings of leaves, 
 " that the Red-breast has the habit of making these 
 coverings ; and it is in this manner that may have 
 originated that general tradition of their burial of the 
 dead beneath a pall of leaves, upon which the famous 
 and tender incident in the ballad of the Babes in the 
 Wood appears to have been founded* ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Paulett ; " and it would not sur- 
 prise me, if, besides covering their nests with leaves, it 
 is really their habit to cover in the same manner the 
 dead bodies of their species ; if such, in some iew in- 
 stances, should fall in their way. It has lately been 
 discovered, that the common mouse actually buries its 
 dead !" 
 
 " Pray tell us of this discovery/' said Miss Wain- 
 fleet ; " let me have it in my memory, to add to my 
 small acquaintance with the economy of nature?" 
 
 " The story/' said ]\Ir. Paulett, " will display the 
 ingenuity of mice under more views than one. It 
 lately happened, in a warehouse, at one of our custom- 
 houses, that a bag of corn was sought to be deposited 
 in such a manner as to be safe from rats and mice ; 
 and, for this purpose, it was hung upon the beam of a 
 pair of scales, which beam itself depended from the 
 
 * See Keeper's Travels, chap. xx. ^ 
 
270 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 middle of the ceilino^. After a time, the bag was to be 
 removed ; and it was then found, very contrary to the 
 expectations of those who, as they thought, had hit 
 upon so infallible a contrivance, that a swarm of mice 
 had not only found their way into it, to feed upon its 
 nourishing contents, but even to establish their abode ! 
 A general rout and slaus^hter was the immediate con- 
 sequence. The bag was removed ; and some of the mice 
 escaped, but many were killed, and left dead upon the 
 floor. Within a few hours afterward, the warehouse- 
 man returned, proposing to himself to sweep away the 
 dead mice. To his surprise, however, not a single 
 mouse remained; and he found himself obliged to 
 account, in the best manner that he could, for the 
 clearance that had been made. A day or two now 
 elapsed, at the end of which it became necessary to 
 make another removal near at hand, and this last was 
 of a pile of reams of paper; but, in so doing, the 
 bodies of the dead mice were found in small spaces 
 between the reams ; each body carefully — or as some 
 would say, decently — covered, with small pieces of 
 paper, nibbled from the reams !" 
 
 *' Well !" cried Miss Wainfleet, " who could have 
 believed so much?" 
 
 '' If we reflect, for a moment," returned Mr. Pau- 
 lett, " upon some of the many other practices, of all, or 
 of particular species of animals, I think that there will 
 remain nothing to amaze us in the discovery that mice 
 practise the burial of their dead. But, the fact, at the 
 same time, may be the more curious to the inquirers 
 after knowledge, in as much as, at least by one pro- 
 found and philosophical writer, this burial of the dead 
 has been pitched upon as one of only three distinguish- 
 kig and universal usages, attributes, or practices of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 271 
 
 mankind ! An Italian writer of critical history has 
 the criterion to which I refer: ' All nations/ says he, 
 ' whether barbarous or civilized, and however far 
 removed from each other, have been constant to three 
 things : they are found to possess some kind of reli- 
 gion, to contract marriages, and to bury their dead^.' 
 I make one more remark/' added jMr. Paulett, " and 
 it is this; that it affords an interesting topic of re- 
 search, to trace to how very wide an extent, all the 
 practices or usages, and all the arts and contrivances 
 and inventions, at any time resorted to or devised 
 collectively among mankind, exist and have previously 
 existed, though but scattered here and there, among 
 the various species of inferior animals!" 
 
 " I know," said Miss Wainfleet, " that many exam- 
 ples have been mentioned ; as, of building, weaving, 
 sailing, and such arts ; and that mankind have been 
 said to be indebted for the same arts to the force of 
 imitation ?" 
 
 " I do not believe," said Mr. Paulett, " in our 
 dependance upon imitation in these cases. I think 
 that men, through their various necessities and wishes, 
 and through their comprehensive reason, have been 
 the inventors, for themselves, of the same things with 
 which the inferior animals have been able to supply 
 their limited necessities respectively. It is marvellous, 
 in the mean time, to see, how, day by day, we discover 
 that almost every work of human art has been antici- 
 pated in nature, either animate or inanimate !" 
 
 * Principi di Scienza Nuova, di Giambattista Vico. ^'^ico was 
 born in Naples, in the year 1670 ; and it is observable that his 
 scheme of historical writing is no other, and no better, and no better 
 pursaed, than that of the historical transcendentalism which, at the 
 passing moment, is the folly of so many living writers in France ! 
 
272 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Make us understand this the better, my dear/* 
 said Mrs. Paulett, " by giving us an instance, and a 
 new one ; for we have heard again and again of the 
 arts and ways of the nautilus, the bee, the wasp, the 
 ant, and a hundred more?" 
 
 "■ I may mention, then," said Mr. Paulett, " a late 
 account of the most striking description, belonging to 
 a water-insect, observed at the head of a little stream 
 which falls down the side of a mountain in Ireland ; 
 and displaying, in the water, the entire contrivance 
 of one of our balloons or parachutes, intended for the 
 air. This insect provides for itself, in its worm or 
 caterpillar state, a covering or dwelling similar in 
 principle to that of the membrane in which the chry- 
 salis of the silkworm is lodged beneath a ball of silk ; 
 but with the difference, that, instead of having, like 
 the latter, no opening whatever, it has a small open- 
 ing to the water, upon the undermost side, as a para- 
 chute has a large one to the air, though for a wholly 
 different purpose. The paper membrane, or bag, is 
 sliaped exactly like a Florence oil-flask, or with only a 
 shorter neck ; is composed of a delicate, opaque, and 
 cream- white skin ; and is about two inches in length, 
 and one in diameter. It is suspended, mouth down- 
 ward, in the current of the water, by means of a most 
 perfect silken network, of a gray colour; which is 
 thrown over it exactly as the network over a balloon, 
 but of which the lower cords or lines, three or four in 
 number, and about an inch in length, instead of being 
 drawn together at the bottom, to hold a car, or other 
 single weight, are each attached by the insect to as many 
 little stones, by way of anchors ! The balloon, in this 
 manner (itself containing only the insect and air), is 
 held effectually buoyant, at a safe distance from the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 273 
 
 bottom of the stream. If it were in still water, it 
 would float upright; but, in the running stream, it is 
 kept dancing in an inclined direction ; and this, in the 
 instance observed*, was at an angle of about forty-five 
 degrees, and about two inches below the surface. The 
 current, in driving the closed and globular head of the 
 bag in its own direction, and in thus giving to the 
 whole bag a slanting position, causes the mouth or 
 lower extremity of this balloon, or parachute, or flask, 
 to stand invitingly open to whatever minute objects 
 come down the stream ; and, within this floating or 
 diving bell (for it has the principle of the diving- 
 bell, as well as of the balloon) sits the caterpillar, 
 concealed like a spider at the head of his web ; and 
 ready, like that land-insect, to devour the prey which 
 comes within his reach ! But this water-caterpillar, as, 
 in the article of food and other things, he has higher 
 wants than a chrysalis or grub, so he has higher capa- 
 bilities, and more power over his paper bag. Staying 
 within it, he can compress it, so as to exclude the air, 
 or whatever else he chooses to reject, or let it open, 
 and take its full bulk and form ; or, at his own plea- 
 sure also, he can leave the bag, and return to it 
 again. If the bag be taken out of the water, the 
 caterpillar comes quickly from its inside, and shows 
 itself to be of about an inch in length, a dark brown 
 colour, and a soft smooth skin; its head large, po- 
 lished, and divided into two lobes, and moved with a 
 strong appearance of voracity. The particular bal- 
 loon, and its inhabitant, the examination of which sup- 
 plies me this description, was found, with nine or ten 
 others, arranged, or moored, like so many fishing-boats 
 
 * At Gramley's Well, bj R. Williams, Jan. Esq. of Druiucondra. 
 
 N 3 
 
274 BURFORD-COTTAGE, AND 
 
 (another similitude!) across a branch of the main 
 stream, and beneath the shelter of an overhanging 
 stone (other resemblances to human wisdom!) which 
 seemed to break the force of the water that brought 
 to them their prey ; thus at once diminishing their 
 danger of being carried from their moorings, and de- 
 taining the objects of their research for better chance 
 of capture ! If the balloon is touched in the stream, 
 the caterpillar betrays its emotion by spitting, or by 
 sudden jets from the mouth." 
 
 The company, when Mr. Paulett had thus finished, 
 were unanimously of opinion, that few examples of the 
 powers, contrivances, and sagacity of the inferior ani- 
 mal creation could be adduced, to surpass what had 
 appeared in this account of a water-caterpillar ; and 
 Mr. Paulett, as upon former occasions, observed, that 
 attractive and useful as was such knowledge as this, 
 for persons of all ages, he was particularly pleased 
 when it fell in the way of children : " No other,^^ 
 said he, '* affords them as much delight; and, at every 
 word, it teaches them both to admire creation itself 
 for its works, and to feel that respect for its creatures; 
 that is, for their powers ; upon which is to be founded 
 so large a share of their due esteem, and of their con- 
 siderate treatment. Admiration/* he continued, " is 
 the source of love, and love of tenderness ; and it is 
 only as we admire and respect the animal world, that 
 we shall ever be merciful to it V 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 275 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 I grant, that from some moss-grown idol-oak, 
 In doable rhymes, oar Thor and Woden spoke. 
 
 ROSCOMMON. 
 
 '' These Xegro nations, then, '' said Mr. Paulett, the 
 next day, are absolutely nations of sanguinary mon- 
 sters !" 
 
 " Under our present aspect," replied Mr. Hartley, 
 " assuredly they are ; and yet travellers, even in the 
 same breath with which they relate such things as 
 those of which I am speaking, dwell, with even an 
 affectionate regard, upon the general mildness of the 
 national character, and quote abundant instances in 
 proof 1 But this is only one of the many features, of 
 man and the whole world, which the ignorant hastily 
 call inconsistencies, but which the wise know to be 
 entirely consistent with that many-coloured order of 
 things amid which we live ; and which, in respect of 
 man in particular, has induced the poet to say, that 
 * the thread of our life is a mingled yarn,' and that 
 ' our virtues would be proud, if our faults whipt them 
 not'.' Barbarous nations are confessedly barbarous, 
 all in their several degrees ; but the presence of bar- 
 barism under certain aspects, is never inconsistent 
 with the presence of many virtues under others; and 
 so, also, the presence of many virtues is rarely incon- 
 sistent with the ec^ual presence of much barbarism ! 
 Above all things, too, we are to remember, that there 
 is a wide distinction to be taken between principles 
 
276 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and manners; and that among nations, as among 
 individuals, principles are often good, and yield their 
 fruits accordingly, where the manners are coarse, 
 and even hideous, and sustain, in their own way, the 
 most revolting practices. The real history of all na- 
 tions is, that having set out with barbarism, though 
 yet with many virtuous principles, and many kind 
 affections, they advance, afterward, but little in point 
 of principles and affections, but much in regard to 
 manners ; and that, consequently, in all civilized 
 nations, while we see great improvements as to man- 
 ners, and as to usages, yet we usually likewise see, 
 that they retain, not only the principles and affections 
 of their ancestors, but, in a greater or less degree, and 
 however partially softened, their usages and manners 
 also. But the history of the English nation resembles 
 what I have said to be the history of all ; and it fol- 
 lows, that while the manners and usages of England 
 are confessedly more mild at the present day than 
 heretofore, there yet remain, in both, traces which, 
 while they do not shock us as belonging to what 
 is English, are plainly derived to us from the very 
 same sources as the things which, in their earlier and 
 more frightful form, still shock us so reasonably as 
 African ! If, for a moment, we look at the scenes 
 that I have described, under their single view of 
 criminal executions, we may easily remark, in a simi- 
 lar view, the remains of corresponding practices among 
 ourselves; such as, the hanging in chains, the behead- 
 ing, quartering, and disembowelling of traitors, and 
 even the holding up of their bleeding hearts to the 
 eyes of the multitude, by the hands of the executioner ; 
 add to which, the exposure of the several parts of their 
 dead bodies upon poles, gibbets, and the gates and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 277 
 
 walls of cities, every circumstance of all which is 
 immediately derived to ourselves from our ancient 
 English usages, the usages of the modern Negro 
 nations, and, in one age or another, the usages of all 
 mankind ! It has not even escaped the more modern 
 lawgivers of England and Europe, to describe the 
 gallows, or gallow-trees, as feteesh, or holy trees ; the 
 holy instruments of the punishment of wrong, and of 
 the preservation of the rights of the innocent and 
 peaceable; the very character which, doubtless, the 
 gallows and the cross received among us, when, as 
 was formely the case, criminal executions, the same in 
 principle, and similar in mode, were performed in 
 England, in the name of her offended gods (whether 
 Celtic Bel, or Teutonic Thor or Woden), as now in the 
 name of those of Africa ; and all including whatever 
 belongs to idol-oaks, or feteesh, or holy trees : a fact 
 which, at the same time, explains or apologises for 
 much of the sanguinary character usually attributed 
 to the Druidical worship in Britain and. elsewhere, 
 along with that of Africa ; while, with equal truth, it 
 leaves to each, all that belongs to them besides, of 
 blood and barbarism !" 
 
 " The principle, then," said Mr. Paulett, *' is not 
 always so bad as the practice ?" 
 
 " It is the state of manners, rather than the truth 
 of principles, as I have already said," returned Mr. 
 Hartley, " which is often in fault; for, putting what is 
 cruel and loathsome out of the question, and sup- 
 posing the punishments justly awarded, it may be 
 allowed, in the words of an old writer, upon one of our 
 own ancient practices of criminal law, that ' though 
 the proceeding was barbarous, the judgment was com- 
 mendable.* " 
 
278 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " But these horrors/' rejoined Mr. Paulett, " are 
 not exclusively criminal executions?'' 
 
 " I have admitted this," answered Mr. Hartley ; 
 " but, even if they were, they are still to be regarded 
 as relio^ious sacrifices. These ' Customs' are observed, 
 partly in worship of the Supreme Being, and partly in 
 that of the souls of the deceased ; and, in both cases, 
 the existence of an anger — a feeling of revenge — a 
 love of justice — is supposed, which all the slaughter 
 is to appease. Is the divine justice angered ? Have 
 crimes been committed? Have the people suffered 
 from their enemies? In either of these cases, the 
 slaughter of the offenders, and of the prisoners of war> 
 is taken as an atonement and delight to the offended 
 deity. But have deceased individuals suffered from 
 the living? Have they been injured by their country, 
 men, or were they killed by foreign enemies ? As to 
 this second class, it is to appease the souls of the dead, 
 or to render justice to their claims, that either domes- 
 tic criminals, or foreign enemies, are thus exposed to 
 slaughter. But, again, the earnest superstitious per- 
 suasion, that the souls of the persons upon these occa- 
 sions slaughtered, can be made, or will be permitted, 
 to follow, as servants or as defenders, as well as wives 
 or friends, the souls of those departed ; it is this that 
 has been the cause, that, at different periods, in Africa, 
 as in all other countries, the living have embraced death, 
 or been put to it, for the benefit of those dead already. 
 In parts of Hindostan, the voluntary burning of widows 
 upon the funeral piles of their husbands, is a small 
 remainder of a usage, once, perhaps, universal ; and 
 in Pagan or Heathen Africa, to this day, that super- 
 stition is still the motive for putting even innocent 
 persons, and natives of the country, to death, at the cele-- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 279 
 
 bration of the ' Customs.' These victims are devoted ; 
 that is, the superstition teaches, that, in virtue of their 
 being specially vowed or intended for the service or 
 benefit of the particular souls departed, for whose sake 
 it is the pleasure of the living- to dispatch them, they 
 will actually, in their spiritual state, reach, and become 
 the servants or the associates of the souls to whom they 
 are sent ! The Xegro nations make bloody sacrifices, 
 also, from other motives, as for propitiation under any 
 species of calamity ; and this upon principles common 
 to all mankind, and such as, in different ages, have 
 every where been thought to justify the same descrip- 
 tion of excess." 
 
 '' Amazing folly of mankind !" cried Mr. Paulett. 
 
 " Agreed," said Mr. Hartley ; " but let us still, as 
 we proceed, acknowledge what proofs continue, that 
 all these things were once as familiar to our ancestors, 
 as now to the Pagan Africans. Not only would it be 
 easy to show, that these ' Customs,' in all their parts, 
 are identical with the ' Customs,' in their ruder state, 
 of every thing which we call Druidic, and were there- 
 fore practised, in former days, throughout the British 
 Islands, the North and South of Europe, Mexico, the 
 ancient Carthage, and elsewhere; but recollect, I pray 
 you, how many phrases we still use, derived to us 
 from the persons and the ages to which we are now 
 referring, and from metaphors originating in identical 
 institutions. Is it not that we still speak of sacrifices 
 to the laws;' of sacrifices upon the altar of the laws;' 
 of ' victims to offended justice ;' of ' falling a sacrifice 
 to grief;' of '5rtc/-i^c/«^ ourselves to others;' and many 
 such particulars; and what but 'conquered enemif is 
 the meaning of the word ' victim' as also of the word 
 ' hostia' (' hostis'), the ' host' or ' sacrifice?' " 
 
280 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " I see, then,'' said Mr. Paulett, " that it is but 
 because the Negfroes are behind-hand with us in civi- 
 lization, that their ' Customs ' take these horrible 
 forms; and that, as in our own case, the phrases of 
 barbarous ages survive the practice of the barbarities?' 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Hartley ; " and I repeat, that in 
 respect of criminal justice, it is the gallows which is 
 our own feteesh-tree. Even while we are speaking, it 
 is returning, in England, to a closer resemblance than 
 it has lately worn ; an idle and disgraceful Act of 
 Parliament at once consigning the bodies of the poor 
 and friendless to the violation of the dissector's knife ; 
 releasing that of the murderer from dissection; and 
 permitting this latter to be hung in chains; a treat- 
 ment which we must join with the quartering and the 
 rest, as identified with the existing Negro usage. I be- 
 lieve that the preceding state of our law was, for every 
 reason, better." 
 
 " These similitudes of usage are remarkable," inter- 
 rupted Mr. Paulett. 
 
 " They are," j^ursued Mr. Hartley ; " but there are 
 other similitudes which we reject. Pagan Athens did 
 not infringe upon the sepulture of its poor and its un- 
 friended ; and these, indeed, were the very persons to 
 whom, in Pagan Athens, and in England, under its old 
 and glorious common-law, the state (or the king, the 
 representative of the state) was the especial friend ! In 
 Pagan Athens there was a public officer, appointed to 
 bury those of the dead to whom poverty or neglect 
 refused the funeral rites ; and a law which gave money 
 from the public treasury for the celebration of their 
 funeral feasts ; or, for what, in Ireland and other 
 countries, is now called the waking {' watching') of the 
 dead ! Pagan Athens respected the feelings of the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 261 
 
 living and the dead, and was so ignorant as even to 
 prefer the interests of human nature to what are now 
 called the interests of science ! Pagan Athens could 
 have sympathized with our own poet of the seventeenth 
 century, when he sung — 
 
 • Pray harm him not ! though he be dead, 
 
 He knows well who do love him ; 
 And who with green turf rears his head, 
 
 And who do rudely move him !' 
 
 — Never would it have given the sanction of the law to 
 the profanation of the dead ; and will the new law of 
 England even answer the purpose for which it has 
 been made?'^ 
 
 " The new law, and its consequences,^' said Mr. 
 Paulett, " seem to be odious and despicable in very 
 endless points of view." 
 
 " The Badagrians," resumed, once more, Mr. Hart- 
 ley, " have still another and more solemn feteesh-tree, 
 standing in an open space, in the midst of a wood, at 
 the distance of a few miles from the city ; and, here, a 
 still greater sacrifice than any of those of the New 
 Moons, and comprising hundreds of human victims, is 
 celebrated once a year. Upon that occasion, the slaugh- 
 tered bodies undergo a treatment the same as that 
 already described ; except that no part of them is re- 
 moved and then brought back to the spot, but their 
 quarters are hung upon the prodigious branches of that 
 aged tree, and the skulls piled around its trunk, to 
 bleach beneath the sun. 
 
 " ' By accident,' adds an author, ' I had an oppor- 
 tunity of seeing this much talked-of tree, only a day 
 or two after the celebration of one of the grand yearly 
 sacrifices ;. and it was the most ghastly and appalling 
 object which I had ever beheld !' Intending quite a 
 
!282 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 different route, he had left the city of Badagry, one 
 morning, attended by two servants. ' The path wind- 
 ing through a thick wood,' he proceeds, ' we struck 
 out of the right one into another; and journeyed 
 onwards without discovering our error for some time 
 afterwards. We had not advanced many miles into 
 the country, before our noses were saluted with the 
 most overpowering effluvia, like those exhaled from 
 putrid substances ; but, notwithstanding this warning, 
 it did not occur to me at the time, that the feteesh-tree 
 of the Badagrians lay in that direction. The air be- 
 came more strongly impregnated, the further we pro- 
 ceeded ; till, at length, it was wholly insupportable, 
 and I was obliged to cover my mouth and nose with a 
 thick handkerchief, which relieved, in some measure, 
 its disao-reeable effects. We had travelled in this 
 manner, as nearly as I could guess, about half-way 
 to the place of our destination, or seven miles from 
 Badagry, when the so-much-dreaded feteesh-tree sud- 
 denly burst upon my sight; its enormous branches 
 literally covered with fragments of human bodies, 
 and its majestic trunk surrounded by irregular heaps 
 of hideous skulls, which had been suffered to accumu- 
 late for many years previously. It was standing in the 
 centre of a large space of open ground, in the heart of 
 the forest; and was actually the largest tree I had 
 ever seen. Thousands of vultures, which had been 
 scared away by our unwelcome intrusion, were yet 
 hovering round and over their disgusting food ; and 
 now and then pouncing fearlessly upon a half-devoured 
 arm or leg. Although [in Africa] scenes of horror 
 had become habitual to me, my feelings, nevertheless, 
 were not entirely blunted ; and I encountered a more 
 violent shock, whilst staring at the overwhelming 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 283 
 
 scene, than I had ever before experienced. I stood as 
 if fascinated to the spot, and stupidly gazed on the 
 ghastly spectacle before me, without the power of 
 withdrawing my sight to more agreeable objects, or 
 even of movins: hand or foot. The hus^e branches of 
 the feteesh-tree, groaning beneath their burden of 
 human flesh and bones, and sluggishly waving, in con- 
 sequence of the hasty retreat of the birds of prey ; the 
 intense and almost insufferable heat of a vertical sun ; 
 the intolerable odour of the corrupt corpses ; the heaps 
 of human heads, many of them apparently staring at 
 me from hollows w hich had once sparkled with living 
 eyes ; the awful stillness and solitude of the place, 
 disturbed only by the sighing of the seemingly con- 
 scious wind through the sombre foliage, or, at inter- 
 vals, by the frightful screaming of voracious vultures, 
 as they flapped their sable wings almost in my face ; 
 all tended to overpower me. jNly heart sickened within 
 my bosom; a dimness came over my eyes; an inex- 
 pressible quivering agitated my whole frame ; my legs 
 refused to support me; and, turning my head, I fell 
 senseless into the arms of Jourdie, my faithful slave. 
 Pasco assisted to bear me away from the scene of 
 blood ; and the two blacks, emptying on my head and 
 face a calabash of water they had brought with them, 
 I slowly revived, and after a slight refreshment, pur- 
 sued my journey by another path*.^ '' 
 
 " These accounts," interrupted Mr. Paulett, " are 
 perfectly frightful. What barbarians (again and again !) 
 must not these Negro nations be ?" 
 
 '' You call them rightly,'^ rejoined Mr. Hartley : 
 
 * Lander's Records, &c.; to whicb, and to other works on Central 
 Africa, the reader is referred for all the African facts adverted to in 
 these chapters. 
 
284 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " they are barbarians, and not savages. Savages are 
 never found so cruel; that is, so systematically, so 
 inultitudinously bloody. There is nothing that ap- 
 proaches to this barbarity, among what are called the 
 savages of savage America; but you find the whole 
 repeated, in substance, among the barbarians whom 
 the Spaniards subdued in barbarian Mexico. Savages 
 are men in the vv ild or hunter state ; but barbarism is 
 a rude civilization, which, of all the conditions men 
 can be placed in, appears the least favourable to 
 manners." 
 
 " But I am quite at a loss/' continued Mr. Paulett, 
 " though after the several pictures you have drawn, to 
 understand the nature of that Pagan worship which 
 these nations follow ?'* 
 
 " The Paganism of the Negro nations,'' answered 
 Mr. Hartley, *' is the same, in substance, with the 
 Paganism of all the rest of the world, and of all ages. 
 I have given you hints of my persuasion of the same- 
 ness of all the modern Negro practices, civil and reli- 
 gious, with all the ancient practices, equally civil and 
 religious, of our own islands ; and I could easily and 
 endlessly multiply the several points of comparison. 
 But, what I particularly venture to express my con- 
 viction of is this, that among the present Negro nations 
 of Central Africa, we find, in their rude state, the 
 very principles and fabric of that religious faith and 
 worship which appears to us so abstruse, but so vene- 
 rable, and so august, when domiciled in ancient Egypt; 
 when cleansed of its odious practices by the progres- 
 sive refinement of manners; and when administered 
 and inculcated by a dignified and learned priesthood. 
 In the feteesh-huts of the Negroes, I see, not the copies^ 
 but the originals, of the vast and marble temples of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 285 
 
 Luxor and Syeneh ; in the bas-reliefs, and figures of 
 men and animals, within and without the walls of the 
 feteesh-huts, I see the identities (and not the copies, 
 but the originals) of the hieroglyphical sculptures 
 within and without the ancient Egyptian temples ; 
 and, perhaps, of those fi^-ures, also, of animals, in burnt 
 clay, modelled to resemble the life, which were to be 
 seen upon the walls of edifices in ancient Babylon. 
 Give to the Pagan faith of the present Negro nations, 
 the subtlety of the ancient Egyptian metaphysics (and 
 even of how much of these the Xegro nations still 
 possess we are uninformed); and take from the Pa- 
 ganism of the Negroes its bloody rites (as the learning 
 and refinement of polished, adorned, though still defi- 
 cient Egypt, must necessarily have taken); and I have 
 little doubt but that by these processes we should arrive 
 at a knowledge of the ancient Egyptian system more 
 quickly than by any other. The Negro nations acknow- 
 ledge two conflicting divinities, good and evil; and 
 what are these but the Osiris and Typhon of ancient 
 Egypt, as they are also the Orosmades and Ariman of 
 ancient Persia ^ But the worship or propitiation of the 
 principle of evil always leads, among rude nations, to 
 barbarities like those of the feteesh-tree ; while, as 
 refinement overtakes a people, legislators, without dis- 
 puting the foundation of the worship, get rid of its 
 more odious forms. The Egypt of the Exodus, and 
 of Homer, had no bloody sacrifices, but rather, as we 
 may well believe, those of the odours of sweet woods 
 and flowers ; and the Budhists, in Ceylon, Siam, and 
 China, burn gilt and silvered and tinned and coloured 
 paper figures of animals and men, instead of real men 
 and animals." 
 
 " An eleg-ant and crentle revolution !'* observed 
 Mr. Paulett. 
 
286 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Yes/' concurred with him his friend ; " and the 
 ancient religious affinities and intermixtures of the 
 people of all those countries, is, at the same time, 
 beyond a doubt. Those recumbent figures, upon the 
 walls of the feteesh-huts, have they no relation to the 
 recumbent Budha, whom we see in India and China, 
 with the African Negro's features, and with his woolly 
 hair? Again, the vast, but rude and simple pyramids 
 of Egypt (which have always appeared to me to belong 
 to another race and other era, than, those which gave to 
 that country its gorgeous and elaborate temples) have 
 no affinities with any thing else in Africa ; but they 
 are found again in Siam, in the pagodas of China, and 
 in the pyramids of Mexico ! An intelligent English tra- 
 veller inquires whether the Hottentots are not of the 
 race of the Chinese ; and, if I recollect him rightly, of 
 that of the ancient Egyptians also ; and I think he has 
 much reason. But the religion and institutions of 
 ancient Egypt survive, in my opinion, more widely 
 still in Africa; and subsist, in an especial manner, 
 among all the Negro nations. As to the rest, the 
 modes of sanguinary worship are and have been 
 almost as numerous as the names bestowed upon their 
 object; and what was Typhon in Egypt, and Ariman 
 in Persia, was Moloch in Syria !" 
 
 " I perceive, Hartley," said Mr. Paulett, " that you 
 have read and thought much upon these matters, and 
 I confess myself charmed with the wide views which 
 they present and open ; but, at this moment, I cannot 
 yet deliver my mind from the impression of the horri- 
 ble scenes at the feteesh-huts and trees, and from the 
 thought that such things are still occurring, year after 
 year, and month after month, in that barbarian part of 
 Pagan Africa ! Is it not frightful to think, that where 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 287 
 
 the bounty and beauty of nature are so conspicuous, 
 the ignorance and cruelty of man should be so conspi- 
 cuous also ! Here is a noble forest ; a delicious glade 
 opening in its midst ; a majestic tree, the monument 
 of ages, in its centre; herbs and flowers at its feet, 
 with a fragrance that might fill the air; birds of 
 plumage and song ready to sit upon its boughs, and, 
 wanting these, a holy solitude, and calm unbroken 
 silence ; a blue sky above ; a resplendent sun by day ; 
 and a moon of molten silver all the night : and here 
 is man, placed in such an Eden, exercising the little 
 strenofth of his weak arm to reverse the whole scheme 
 of nature; to disfigure that which was sightly ; to em- 
 poison that which was sweet; to bring the vulture in 
 the place of the dove ; the screams of rapine in the 
 place of the murmurs of love : to slaughter his fellow- 
 creatures, and to destroy the works of his own Creator, 
 only to hang their mutilated fragments upon the tree 
 of the demon of evil !" 
 
 " I will not arc^ue," said Mr. Hartley, " the consoling 
 topics that should accompany even such and so just, 
 though so mournful a review, but join you in lament- 
 ing what is observable upon a still wider scale; the 
 deep contrast which is so often found to subsist, be- 
 tween the beauty and cheerfulness of the works of God, 
 and the deformity and melancholy of the conceptions 
 and consequent works of man ! In nothing, perhaps, is 
 the weakness of man, and the immeasurable space, 
 between the mind of man and the mind of his Creator, 
 made more manifest than in this. Vv'hen we listen to 
 the sickly sentiments, and the perverse opinions, of so 
 many of our proffered guides in opinion and philoso- 
 phy ; v.hen we observe how often the human imagina- 
 tion is employed in the production of a world, and the 
 
288 BURFORD COTTAGE, A^D 
 
 creatures of a world, not more unlike the creatures atid 
 the world of God, than distinguished for putting all 
 that is hideous in the place of all that is beautiful ; all 
 that is terrific, in the place of all that is alluring ; all 
 that is malign, in the place of all that is benignant ; 
 when we read of fanciful persons, and places, and 
 situations, all so frightful, and all so much the oppo- 
 site of every thing that men are decreed to meet, to 
 visit, or to endure, it is impossible to avoid reflecting 
 a little upon the doleful results that must have been 
 produced, if man, instead of God; — if infinite little- 
 ness, instead of infinite power, drawing after it infinite 
 goodness, and insuring infinite beauty ;— if infinite 
 littleness had been the maker of this infinite and lovely 
 world ! It is impossible, at such a moment of reflec- 
 tion, not to inquire, what description of monster, in 
 such case, would have been given, to roam over the 
 earth, instead of man, ' the paragon of animals — in 
 form and motion how like an angel, in apprehension 
 how like a god !' I do not know whether a fair author, 
 whom I could name, intended the illustration of this 
 very contrast ; but she achieved something approaching 
 to it, when, venturing to suppose the possibility that 
 science could actually aflford the means of creating 
 some sort of man, she made the creation of a monster 
 only, the sole reward of all the labours of a ' Frank- 
 enstein * !' Nature, it is to be confessed, has its 
 calamities, its terrors, and its sorrows ; it has its 
 
 ' Moving accidents bj fire and flood,' 
 
 and a thousand other ' ills that flesh is heir to ;' but it 
 is easy to remark how diflferent and how much more 
 mild, — how more consistent and in harmony with our 
 
 * See Frankenstein (the Novel and the Plaj). 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 289 
 
 prepared feelings and resources — are all these ills, at 
 last, than those artificial griefs and terrors which hu- 
 man fancy conjures up, as tenants of the universe in 
 which we live, and likely to transfix or crush us upon 
 our path ! Miserable achievements of poor 7nan's 
 creation : 
 
 ' Most ugly shapes, and horrible aspects!' 
 
 What calumnies and libels, in short, are not these 
 fancies, upon all the spirit of the works of Nature? 
 
 " For the rest," concluded Mr. Hartley, '' I have 
 kept in a degree distinct the several classes of persons 
 that, in this Xegro kingdom, are put to death with 
 forms so barbarous and hideous ; and which, to a 
 stranger^s eye, will be apt to appear one undiscrimi- 
 nating bloodshed. But I suspect that some of the 
 particulars which I have mentioned apply only to the 
 sacrifice of prisoners of war; and that, throughout the 
 described slaughter, we are to distinguish three several 
 descriptions of sufferers, suffering, no doubt, and also 
 subsequently treated, in somewhat of three different 
 modes. They consist, as I imagine, first, in criminals 
 tried and executed ; secondly, in sacrificial victims of 
 war; and thirdly, in men purchased promiscuously 
 for sacrifice, in the same manner as birds and beasts 
 in other countries and ages. For the use of human 
 sacrifices, in trading countries, and countries making 
 and dealing in slaves, must inevitably draw after it 
 even such a practice as this I^' 
 
 o 
 
290 BURFORD COTTAGE, ASD 
 
 CHAP. XXL 
 
 Now, sheplierda, to your helpless cliarge be kind! 
 Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens 
 With food at will: lodge them below the storm. 
 And watch them strict. 
 
 — The labourer ox 
 Stands cover'd o'er with snow, and now demands 
 The fruit of all his toil. THOMSON. 
 
 Christmas was gone by, and the new year come in ; 
 and the days were lengthening fast, and the season, 
 true to its ancient English character, and not varying 
 from it, (as so many persons heedlessly imagine), was 
 reaching the severest cold : 
 
 " As the day lengthens, 
 So the cold strengthens," 
 
 was the observation of English antiquity ; and its 
 truth continues to this time. The sun had passed the 
 winter solstice, and had now entered, therefore, into 
 the winter quarter; and the winds, which during the 
 preceding division of his course, had so often blown 
 tempestuously from the south-west, bringing with them 
 torrents of rain, and warmth of temperature ; now 
 began to blow from the north-east, freezing every 
 pond and stream, and causing fields, and woods, and 
 houses to be covered with wide sheets of snow. The 
 surface of the earth, too, after the long interval from 
 the preceding summer, had now reached its coolest 
 state ; and thus had every circumstance arrived at 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 231 
 
 the annual combination for producing the completest 
 change of the weather, and that long period of strug- 
 gling heat and cold, and moist and dry, which, as 
 usual, and as of yore, was to reach up to the summer 
 solstice, and beyond ; so that, as so commonly hap- 
 pens in England, and as it was written in England 
 two hundred and fifty years ago — 
 
 " Winter lingers in the lap of May." 
 
 Lons: and severe frosts, in the meantime, in the au- 
 tumnal quarter, or, as it is commonly called, "before 
 Christmas," are and always have been remarkable events 
 in England ; and mild weather, at that season, though 
 commonly called unseasonable, is what is really season- 
 able, or natural to the season. People incessantly 
 expect both summer and winter before their seasons ; 
 or, in other words, the warm weather to us comes later, 
 and departs later, than is every day recollected. 
 
 The utility, upon the other hand, of the frosts and 
 snows, and the blessings which they bring upon all 
 the creatures of the earth, are truths which admit of 
 no dispute; and so, also, do the frosts and snows 
 contribute, in themselves, to a thousand enjoyments 
 for the strong and the well-provided ; but alas for 
 the feeble and the destitute! It is now, and not at 
 any earlier period of all that is usually denominated 
 winter, that the hand of hospitality is commonly ex- 
 tended, and chiefly requisite, in their behalf; for it 
 is now that they are exposed to perish speedily, or to 
 receive their sure though lingering death-wounds, even 
 from cold alone, not less than if by famine, or by 
 the sword, or by the burning winds of tropical and 
 sandy deserts! 
 
 The month of January, in the year which belongs to 
 
 o 2 
 
292 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 this my history, was more than ordinarily inclement. 
 The waters, except at minute openings, caused by little 
 falls in the brooks, were everywhere frozen through- 
 out our neighbourhood ; the ground, where, here and 
 there, the keen winds had driven away the snow, was 
 become impenetrable as iron ; and the snow (to say 
 nothing of the woes and desolations of the snow- 
 storms !) either lay wide, and deep, and without varia- 
 tion, over the trackless soil ; or was raised, from space 
 to space, into high wreaths and hills, burying even 
 the tallest herbage and the most bushy underwood. 
 In the midst of all this griping cold, and of all this 
 unmitigated barrenness, how many of my feathered 
 fellow-creatures did I not see die from the weather or 
 from hunger, or become the prey of the ec^ually famish- 
 ing foxes, pole-cats, martens, and wild-cats; and how 
 many more did I not behold in the last extremes of 
 suffering! Even in the fields and farm-yards, how 
 many a dejected horse, or ox, or cow, or sheep (the 
 snow upon their backs, and the icicles hanging from 
 their nostrils), did I not see standing mournfully, in 
 waiting for that human succour which was either negli- 
 gently delayed, or beyond the power of their owners 
 to afford ! In the lanes, and by the sides of the com- 
 mons, and even on the skirts and in the midst of the 
 villages and towns, into how many cottages, and hovels, 
 and dreary chambers did I not peep, where 
 
 " the lone widow, and her orphans, pined 
 
 In starving solitude ;" 
 
 where food, and fuel, and clothes, and covering, were 
 alike deficient ; and, by the way side, how many little 
 children did I not meet, limping with their chilblains, 
 and crying from the frost and pain ! " Alas ! then," 
 said I, " mankind have troubles, like to birds and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 293 
 
 beasts ; and birds and beasts, like to the members of 
 mankind ! And what a world of woe; what a condi- 
 tion of universal misery," — was I about to add, when 
 the sense of my ingratitude, the conviction of my 
 injustice, smote me upon my. bosom, and I became 
 silent! But, recovering from my shame, and eager 
 that my tongue should now make amends for its rash- 
 ness, — " It is but upon a part alone, of any species," 
 I resumed, " that these afflictions, in their rigour, are 
 poured out; and even from this part they are most 
 frequently withdrawn without the infliction of deep 
 or lasting injury. The means of avoiding them exist 
 for all, or are denied only to the peculiar victims of 
 indolence, or of carelessness, or of ill-fortune. Then, 
 they last, too, but for a season, and that season the 
 shortest of the year. The sun returns, and I shall 
 see again these snowy wastes laughing with verdure 
 and with flow'ers. Leaves and blossoms will wave on 
 the branches that are now bending under snow% and 
 weighed down with icicles. The imprisoned streams 
 will be singing over their pebbles, or sparkling under 
 the blue skies among their whispering reeds. The 
 lark will be joyous in the heavens, and the groves a 
 tumult with the music of innumerable songs. The 
 cattle will feed and repose themselves in the meads, 
 and the sheep and lambkins be bleating and bounding 
 upon the hills. Tliese cottages, these hovels, and these 
 dreary chambers, will be gay with the rising and the 
 setting sun ; and with the flowers about their window s, 
 and with the fruits upon their boards. These children 
 will be dancing, leaping, and singing, in the lanes, 
 and by the sides of the commons ; or they w ill be 
 gathering daisies in the fields, or nuts or berries in 
 the woods, or on the sunny banks ; or racing upon the 
 turf, or dabbling and splashing in the waters ! The 
 
294 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 world, therefore, is not a world of woe, nor any season 
 of life a condition of universal misery ; though each 
 is under exposure to hours of evil and to casualty. 
 But, chiefly, it was my reflection, with what good 
 cause, in this and in all kindred climates, every crea- 
 ture rejoiced in those epochs of the returning sun, 
 which brought with them changes so immense, and 
 of a value so indescribable; changes from the horrors, 
 from the wants, and from the piercing sorrows of the 
 gloomy season, to the beauties, the plenty, the de- 
 iitrhts, of the season of warmth and sunshine ! Oh 
 what songs of birds and grasshoppers, what lowings 
 of cattle, what festivities of the winter solstice and 
 vernal equinox, can sufficiently celebrate and acknow- 
 ledge," said I, "the blessings of the opening year; 
 and what summer and autumnal cries of gratitude 
 can off'er thanks sufficient for the gifts of the year 
 advanced !" But the pleasures of this reverie were 
 due to past and inward recollections, and not to any 
 present and outward sight or feeling ! All without 
 me, and within me, saving the reverie alone, was dark, 
 and heavy, and painful, with the desolateness and 
 griefs of the actual season ; unless as these were soft- 
 ened to myself, beneath such roofs as those of Burford 
 Cottage, and of the adjacent hospitable homes ! I had 
 been attempting that which the poet seems to have 
 tiiought half impossible; — to 
 
 " wallow naked in December's snow, 
 
 By thinking on fantastic summer's lieat!" 
 
 For me and my yet more timid mate, this was the 
 time to draw nearer than ever to our constant bene- 
 factors at the Cottage, upon whom, indeed, we placed 
 ail our principal dependence ; and where crumbs, and 
 even cheese, were now freely scattered, at the wish of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 295 
 
 Mr. and ]Mrs. Paulett, but chiefly by the hands of 
 Emily and Richard, their good and pretty children. 
 My mate was far too shy to enter the parlour, when, 
 in spite of the weather, the window was opened for 
 our welcome; or even to perch upon the cross-stick 
 which had been duly set in front of the window for 
 our encouragement. She staid at a warm exposure in 
 the garden, where the wall-fruit trees were hung with 
 matting, and the early strawberries and salading were 
 nursing into forwardness ; and thither, when I had 
 swallowed a few of the smaller crumbs myself, it was 
 my wont to seize one of the largest in my bill, and fly 
 to carry it to her. A few such crumbs sufficed, for the 
 children, now, threw large crumbs oftener than small ; 
 and when my mate was thus supplied, and my own 
 hunger more than appeased, I had leisure to show my 
 gratitude and contentment, either by saluting my 
 entertainers with a song, or by staying to listen to their 
 discourse. 
 
 On one of the most dismal of all the mornings of 
 the season, when the air was dark and thick with the 
 large flakes of snow which, hour after hour, continued 
 to fall, I made, as I now punctually made, my visit to 
 the windows of the Cottage, one of which was soon 
 and as punctually opened for my reception ; and here 
 I found Mr. Paulett strongly engaged in giving encou- 
 ragement to the minds of his children, in all their 
 kindly thoughts of the duties to man and beast which 
 so distressful a scene imposed upon such as had any 
 help to give. My appearance, however, in some de- 
 gree diverted the conversation. The melancholy state 
 of the atmosphere had made me more forgetful even 
 than usual of all doubt or ceremony upon entering the 
 friendly parlour. The few insects, and few remaining 
 seeds, which were still commonly to be found about 
 
296 BURFORD COTTAGE, ANDi 
 
 the cucumber and melon beds and glasses, or where 
 the gardener was preparing his ranunculus-beds, or 
 his pea-sticks, were quite denied to us upon this hap- 
 less morning; and I arrived breathless, drooping, and 
 anxious, at the parlour, and entered it without a 
 thought, excepting that of joy for my welcome and my 
 food ! Mr. Paulett observed this ; and was led by it to 
 bid his children recollect how justly the poet, whom 
 here he quoted, had described the effects of weather 
 such as they saw, especially as to its influence upon 
 the Redbreast : 
 
 — " The fowls of heaven, 
 Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around 
 The winnowing store, and claim the little boon 
 Which Providence assigns them. One alone, 
 The Red-breast, sacred to the household gods. 
 Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky. 
 In joyless fields, and thorny thickets leaves 
 His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man 
 His annual visit. Half afraid. 
 
 He first against the window beats : then, brisk, alights 
 On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor. 
 Eyes all the smiling family askance. 
 And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is : 
 Till more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 
 Attract his slender feet." 
 
 From birds, however, he passed to beasts; and 
 talked at large of the consideration which the wisest 
 and best of men have always entertained for those 
 dumb copartners of mankind in half the good and evil 
 of the universe ! He remarked upon the special care 
 of ancient moralists and lawgivers to insist upon the 
 exercise of humanity toward those domesticated ani- 
 mals which men rear for profit, and the condition of 
 whose lives so much depends upon the humane treat- 
 ment they receive : " It appeared,'^ he said, " both 
 from the example of these sages, and from the smallest 
 share of reflection which we may bestow upon the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 297 
 
 subject, that even the owners of these creatures have 
 need of being reminded of their duty, as well as of 
 their interest, in what relates to their well-being. Men 
 are not so wise, or not so careful, as always to be 
 attentive to their interests ; and they are not so wicked 
 but that they will often do that for the sake of duty, 
 which they would omit upon the score of interest: 
 that is, men are sufficiently virtuous as often to do, as 
 a duty to others, what they would leave undone as a 
 duty to themselves. But, again, a considerable number 
 of those who have the care of domesticated animals 
 are not the owners, but only the servants of the owners ; 
 and though these have really an interest, directly in 
 pleasing their masters, and indirectly, in common with 
 all mankind, in the well-being of the creatures; yet 
 even here, the sense of duty, both to their masters 
 and to the creatures, will often do more than the sense 
 of interest: especially as this sense of duty will never 
 stop at the mere calculation of what loss of value may 
 follow the sufferings of the animal, but will esteem 
 the sufferings themselves an evil great enough to be 
 avoided !" Mr. Paulett added to his reasonings upon 
 these subjects, their enforcement under the imagery of 
 a lofty Eastern Tale : 
 
 " At the end of the second century of the Christian 
 era," he began, " the Parthian empire, for so many 
 ages the steadfast rival of the Roman greatness, and 
 always invulnerable to foreign enemies, fell beneath 
 the sword of civil discord ; and thus was permitted the 
 revival, upon the Persian soil, of the religion of Zo- 
 roaster, with the ruin of the polytheism of the Greeks, 
 which latter had been introduced and maintained by 
 the successors of Alexander of Macedon, and con- 
 
 o3 
 
298 BtTlFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 tinued by Arbaces and bis dynasty. But, to reestab- 
 lish, in the esteem of the whole country, the authority 
 of the Magi, and the doctrines of the Zendavesta, after 
 the abeyance of both during five hundred years, was 
 a task of no small enterprise and difficulty ; and it 
 suited the still ignorant condition of the age, in Persia, 
 to take the means of pretending that a prophet (one of 
 the forty thousand priests or Magi) was permitted, 
 upon this occasion, to visit, for seven days, the upper 
 and lower worlds, in order to be made sure of the faith, 
 and of the moral obligation of the law, connected w ith 
 Fire-worship, commonly so called. The divine per- 
 mission, and the means, were pretended to be sought 
 and obtained through prayer and other solemnities; 
 and the whole was conducted under the sanction of 
 Ardeshir Babegan, the new king and domestic con- 
 queror, and of all the princes, nobles, and priests : the 
 knowledge to be obtained being agreed upon as deter- 
 mining the two questions; whether the doctrines of 
 Zoroaster comprehended the true faith, and whether 
 the doctrines then received by his followers, were the 
 true doctrines of the master? Such, at least, is the 
 account of its own date and origin, contained in the 
 book called the Book of Ardai Viraf, the name of the 
 pretended prophet; a book from certain passages in 
 which I propose to deduce a moral to our present 
 purpose. 
 
 " The book pretends, that Ardai Viraf, conformably 
 to his mission and supplication, passed into the invi- 
 sible world, and was successively conducted, by diffe- 
 rent angels, to views of the wicked in different states of 
 punishment, and of the righteous in different states of 
 everlasting bliss. The particular vices and virtues, 
 good deeds and crimes, and stations and employments, 
 during their lives upon earth, of all the persons whose 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 299 
 
 souls he saw, were distinctly explained to him ; and the 
 sight, as we were bound to expect, demonstrated, to 
 him, and to all to whom he related his account of it, 
 the truth of the religion of Zoroaster, and the certain 
 consequences of either obeying or disobeying the pre- 
 cepts of the Zendavesta. 
 
 " I shall follow the Persian prophet but little further 
 than through part of his mansions of eternal bliss. In 
 separate divisions of these, he saw palaces and gar- 
 dens, couches, fountains, and other objects of deliglit 
 and luxury ; all illumined with every degree of splen- 
 dour, and all resounding with every tone of harmo- 
 nious music ; while the faces of the inhabitants were 
 beautiful ; their step light and cheerful, and their 
 dresses gorgeous. He saw saloons and terraces, thrones 
 and magnificent cushions, used and frequented, here 
 by blessed kings, and there by upright magistrates and 
 valiant nobles, and again, by pious priests. He beheld, 
 also, the most beautiful gardens and apartments, filled 
 with the souls of virtuous women, who now passed 
 their time in every delightful recreation. All this, 
 however, as being probable, might strike us with no 
 extraordinary emotion ; but, further on, he arrived in 
 a spacious region, where there were still blessed spirits, 
 seated upon thrones, sumptuously bedight, and enjoy- 
 ing everything that could belong to mingled pomp 
 and ease, and pleasure and abundance. And of what 
 class of the righteous of the earth had these beatified 
 creatures been the souls ^ They were the souls of hus- 
 bandmen and herdsmen ; of shepherds, ploughmen, 
 and ass and camel-drivers; and these rewards were 
 given them because they had been tender to their 
 cattle ; because they had taken care to feed them when 
 they were hungry, and to provide them water when 
 athirst; and to defend them from the r^un at noon, and 
 
300 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 from the cold at night ! For these things Orosmades 
 had blessed them, and had given them their reception 
 into their appointed heaven. In particular, they shared 
 reward with such of the rich and mighty as had been 
 bountiful to the poor. 
 
 " Passing, thence, for a moment, from these seats of 
 happiness," continued Mr. Paulett, '' Ardai Viraf is 
 fabled to have witnessed many frightful, and many 
 melancholy scenes of torment ; the particular causes of 
 the infliction of which the angels, as carefully as in all 
 the opposite instances, explained to the admiring pro- 
 phet. Among heavy ones were those endured by such 
 as, in their dealings, had used false weights or mea- 
 sures, or in any other manner defrauded the poor. 
 
 " The Book of Ardai Viraf contains the existing 
 moral law of the Parsees or Persees, or those men of 
 Persian birth or origin, who still adhere to the religion 
 of Zoroaster, or, as it is called, the Worship of Fire ; 
 and whom their Mohammedan fellow-countrymen style 
 Giaours, Guebres, Cophirs, Caffres, or pagans, or hea- 
 thens, or infidels, or unbelievers. A large proportion 
 live in exile, in India, in the English presidency of 
 Bombay, where many high testimonies are borne to 
 the general purity and excellence of their lives; and 
 though it would not be difficult to point out faults, 
 both in the manner and the matter of this their sacred 
 book, what I wish to fix upon your attention is the 
 amiableness of its regard, both for the poor, the help- 
 less, and the humble among mankind ; and for the 
 poor, and helpless, and humble, among our dumb 
 fellow-creatures and fellow-sojourners of the earth ! 
 
 " Whether we think of the Ardai Viraf Xameh as an 
 historical and religious imposture, or simply as an 
 Oriental fiction and poem, more or less rude in its 
 contrivance and conduct, but designed for the teach- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 301 
 
 ing and enforcement of moral truths ; it is still striking 
 and characteristic in its materials, that it should thus 
 magnificently attire the virtues of the humblest condi- 
 tions of human life, and thus powerfully exert itself in 
 recommending the exercise of virtue toward the poor, 
 the helpless and the needy, whether human, or of the 
 inferior races ! It is also remarkable that it should be 
 thus strenuous in behalf of cattle, for the welfare of 
 which, as I have already observed, the interests of 
 their owners might seem, at first sight, a sufficient 
 pledge. But the morality of the Ardai Viraf Nameh 
 is strong upon these amiable points; to be just to the 
 poor; to be bountiful to the poor; and to be tender 
 and careful concerning the inferior animals; precepts, 
 these latter, which are so much the more entitled to 
 attention, in the sacred writings of the Parsees, as, at 
 the same time, they have no taint of that extravagant 
 superstition concerning animals, which leads the Hin- 
 doos to cherish, and even to multiply, not merely the 
 innocent, but the noxious also. Upon the contrary, 
 according to Ardai Viraf, some of the highest rewards 
 of heaven await the destroyers of noxious animals; a 
 description, however, by which his commentators un- 
 derstand, as well wicked men, as offensive beasts *. 
 
 " But, what I shall again call upon you to consider, 
 and to make profit by, is the marked regard for the 
 poor and humble, animal or human, evinced in the 
 pretended revelations of this Persian priest and pro- 
 phet, and by his followers and coadjutors. He is the 
 envoy of a great and victorious monarch, and of all 
 the nobles and princes of the kingdom, and of its forty 
 thousand iVIagi, or priests, philosophers, and bards. 
 He drinks the three-fold wine of sacrifice from three- 
 fold golden vessels ; he sinks into his trance, or begins 
 
 * See Pope's Ardai Viraf Nameh. 
 
302 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 his heavenward and disembodied flight, within the walls 
 of the hallowed temple ; his seven sisters tremble for 
 his safe return ; the king, the princes, the nobles, and 
 the priests, await, in awful suspense, the fruit and 
 fulfilment of his mission; the people crowd and fix 
 themselves about the temple, for seven days, in like 
 intense and fearful expectation ; the safety of a throne, 
 the supremacy of the conquerors, and the religion of a 
 kingdom are at stake ; he comes back from the seven 
 heavens and the seven hells ; he has looked upon the 
 light which enshrouds and hides the Highest ; he has 
 beholden 
 
 ' The emerald throne, the sapphire blaze ;' — 
 
 and when he speaks, though he describes the heavenly 
 seats and glories of just and paternal kings, and gener- 
 ous warriors and impartial rulers, and clothes the piety 
 of the priesthood, of which order he is a member, with 
 beatitude and majesty (not forgetting, however, in his 
 exemplary self-sacrifice and love of truth, the rebukes 
 addressed to himself, for certain errors of ofhce of 
 which he had been guilty); — though he describes all 
 this, in honour of the great and conspicuous among 
 mankind, and of the deeds and virtues which make 
 nations happy, and pour blessings upon multitudes; — 
 yet he superadds rewards, scarcely less elevated, attain- 
 able by the humblest and most obscure, and by the 
 performance of deeds within the hourly range of the 
 lowliest occupations; and wrought for the poor and 
 friendless, and for the cow, the sheep, and ass ! 
 
 " My motives, in the mean time, more expressly for 
 bringing what I have thus related to your view, were, 
 first, to confirm what I had advanced, of the neces- 
 sity which the ancient world had seen, for making 
 it a point of the gravest moral teaching, to be merciful 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 303 
 
 even to cattle, where mercy and friendly care are yet 
 the direct interests of the owner; and secondly, to satisfy 
 your minds, that mercy toward the animal creation 
 universally is no light nor idle point of duty, or one of 
 which children may indeed be talked to, while, with 
 their elders, or still more, with the great ones among 
 the race ; with lawgivers, with kings, with princes, 
 priests, or prophets ; — ■ 
 
 * The kings, and awful fathers of mankind ^ — 
 
 it is a thins: of small account ! Under the first view, 
 you will have now perceived how amply poets, 
 moralists, divines, and lawgivers are borne out, when 
 they make (as has been recently made in England) 
 the law, and also the efforts of public benevolence ^, 
 subservient to the prevention of cruelty to cattle and 
 other parts of the animal creation ; and under the 
 second, the more you reflect, the more plainly you 
 will discover, that no rule of right can be complete, 
 which does not oblige mercy toward the dumb and 
 helpless creatures of the bmte creation, as well as 
 toward all other; and this, not (as some merciful 
 persons feebly, and as, from man, might be said, sel- 
 fishly argue) indirectly, because habits of cruelty to- 
 ward animals lead to habits of cruelty toward men ; 
 but directly, because you are to be altogether merci- 
 ful ; because mercy is as right and as requisite in one 
 direction as in another; because animals and men 
 are equally entitled to mercy ; because the general 
 moral law demands its universal exercise ; and be- 
 cause, if mercy be a real inmate of your breast, it will 
 show itself without limit to particular objects or 
 occasions !" 
 
 * See the Act of Parliament coramoaly called Mr. Martin's Act ; 
 and the proceedings and pablications of the meritorious Societies for 
 Preventing: Crueltv to Animals. 
 
304 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Where Memphis flourished, and the Pharaohs reigned. 
 
 JAMES MONTGOMERY. 
 
 My next visit found Mr. Hartley returned to his 
 friends, whom he was entertaining, as before, with the 
 results of his travel and reflections. He appeared to 
 be bringing to one general conclusion all that re- 
 mained for him to offer. 
 
 " Through all the ages of antiquity," he observed, 
 "the north, and especially the north-east of Africa, w^as, 
 to the south, what it remains at the present day. Set- 
 ting aside the partial influence of European adventure 
 upon the extreme western and southern parts of that 
 great continent, it is, in our time, the Turks and the 
 Moors and Arabs, with their religion of Mohammed, 
 which occupy the north and north-east of Africa, and 
 are daily pushing forward their dominion and their 
 faith toward the south and the south-west ; a territorial 
 and moral conquest which, in the countries where it 
 it is achieved, partly favours, and partly disfavours, 
 human happiness and virtue. Mohammedanism, in 
 proportion as, either deeply or superficially, it triumphs 
 in Africa, puts an end to many superstitious thoughts, 
 and to many evil practices, of Paganism; while it 
 also mixes itself with a share of both, and introduces 
 new vices of its own. In a particular manner, the 
 fixed reception of Mohammedanism in every part of 
 Africa, would bring to a final close the existence of 
 African slavery, in the only place where the accom- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 305 
 
 plishment of its entire overthrow can ever be effected ; 
 that is, in Africa itself. The ^lohammedan faith, 
 ordinarily intolerant toward unbelievers, is tender to- 
 ward those who profess it, and profess it without 
 heresy or schism ; and while it readily casts into slavery 
 unbelievers of all descriptions, will never hear of the 
 slavery of an orthodox Mohammedan. Xo Moham- 
 medan can lawfully hold his fellow-follower of the 
 Prophet in slavery ; and, hence, Africa has only to 
 become wholly ^lohammedan, in order to the full 
 deliverance of every African slave. The entire subjec- 
 tion, in the mean time, of all Africa to ^Mohammedan 
 rulers, is an event never likely to occur ; but, at the 
 moment I am speaking, the Falatahs, under a Mo- 
 hammedan prince, are continuing the progress in 
 which they have been long engaged, from the east 
 and north, toward the west and south of Africa. 
 
 '" But the same direction of the arms and opinions 
 of the east and north of Africa, toward the countries of 
 its south and west, obtained in ancient, as in modern 
 times. Egypt, the glory, in all that part of the world, 
 of ancient civilization*, gave the impulse of ancient 
 opinion and practices, as there must be much reason 
 to believe, to the whole of Africa, from the iNIediterra- 
 nean to the Cape. Some of the pictures remaining 
 upon the walls of the edifices of ancient Egypt repre- 
 sent the victories of Egyptian kings over Xegro na- 
 tions ; that is, over nations of the central parts of 
 Africa ; so that nothing is left to the imagination, but 
 the ancient Egyptian influence (which might be only 
 
 * See, amon^ other authorities, the several captivating intimations 
 of Egyptian law, order, and science, to be found scattered in the 
 Odyssev. In Exodus, also, it is the praise of Moses, so often cited, 
 that he was acquainted with " all the learning of Egypt." 
 
306 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 a moral influence) upon the southern parts beyond ; 
 and there are grounds for contemplating Africa as a 
 great moral whole, with Egypt for its head, and the 
 Cape for its extended foot. The manners, and the 
 religious worship, of all Africa, have strong affinities 
 with each other, and all of them with those of ancient 
 Egypt; and we may look upon these things them- 
 selves, before we lift our eyes upon the ancient rela- 
 tions of Egypt (the head of Africa) with Syria and 
 with Greece, and with India, and with China. But a 
 living traveller in South Africa* has supposed a rela- 
 tionship of the Bushmen with the Chinese ; and if it 
 could be allowed to connect the races of the Bush- 
 men and Chinese with the race of ancient Egypt, we 
 should, in so doing, not only concur with the spirit 
 of some other historical views that have been enter- 
 tained, but show, at once, the connexion of the modern 
 Hottentot or Bushman ^y (though of a different class 
 o^ flies), with the ancient Egyptian beetle or scarabaeus, 
 of which religious symbol so many copies are now to 
 be seen in the British Museum, and elsewhere ; par- 
 ticularly the colossal beetle, or fly, in the Museum ; 
 and be led, also, to other historical relations of an- 
 cient countries, still further off than Egypt. We 
 read, in Scripture, of the 'fly-god of Ekron ;' and it is 
 highly probable that this same ' fly-gocV is the real 
 Belzebub, or Bel, or Baal Zebub, of all Syria. Very 
 idle reasons have been given, by the learned, for trans- 
 lating the name Belzebub by that of ' lord of flies ;' 
 but if we exchange this for 'fly-lord,' or 'fly-god,* or 
 
 * Mr. Barrow. See this subject slightly pursued further (when 
 comparing the Hottentot fly-god, or " Hottentot's god," with the 
 Egyptian beetle), in " The English Boy (or the Honey Birds; at the 
 Cape," by the author of these pages. 
 
ITS ROBI\-RED-BREAST. 307 
 
 god-^y, we shall have, perhaps, at once, in Belzebub, 
 the 'fly-god' of Ekron and Egypt, and, substantially, 
 of the Hottentots and Bosjesmanns, or Bushmen. 
 
 " The yellow complexion of the Bushmen appears to 
 be almost peculiar, among every complexional variety 
 of the human species, to themselves and the Chinese 
 (of whom the latter, however, display a lighter yellow) ; 
 unless it be allowable to suppose that, at any time, the 
 race inhabiting ancient Egypt were of the same tint; 
 and, in the British Museum, there is a stone Egyptian 
 coffin, the human figure upon the lid of which has a 
 face painted of that colour. There is, also, as may be 
 remembered, upon part of the coasts, and in some of 
 the islands of the West Indies (from these, and from 
 the Black Caribs, called the Caribbee Islands), the 
 remains of a nation known as the Yellow Caribs, a 
 yellow-complexioned people, not tall, but yet scarcely 
 to be mentioned with the Bushmen. As to the dimi- 
 nutive size of the latter, and as to other peculiarities 
 of appearance ; these, whichever may have been the 
 country from which they originally came, are to be 
 accounted for from the soil, climate, and circum- 
 stances of life that they have known for ages. As 
 to the manner in which they first arrived, either 
 from China or from Egypt, or from the coasts or 
 islands of the West Indies, at a place so distant from 
 all of these, and now separated from all by nations so 
 different from themselves, as well in complexion as in 
 figure; this may possibly have happened, either through 
 migration, through wars, or through the ancient plant- 
 ing of colonies; or, as in the modern case of the Black 
 Caribs in the West Indies, through shipwreck and 
 misfortune. Russia, at this moment, is colonizing fo- 
 reign races in remote parts of her very wide dominion. 
 
308 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Giving up, however, all actual connexion of the ances- 
 tors of the Bushmen with ancient Egypt, and with its 
 religious symbol of the Jiy, or beetle ; still, that symbol, 
 among the Bushmen, may attest the ancient spread, 
 if not of the dominion, flight, or colonization of the 
 ancient Egyptians over the south extremity of their 
 continent ; yet of the spread of at least a glimmering 
 of their civilization, faith, and symbolic images ; and, 
 still, this Bushman or Hottentot Jly, or beetle, may 
 serve to connect the ancient history of this abject and 
 despised people, with that of the most anciently civi- 
 lized parts of their continent ; with that of the proudest 
 of the ancient nations of Africa and its neighbourhood ; 
 and with that of all the rest of mankind throughout 
 the ancient and modern world. Moreover, the influ- 
 ence of ancient Egyptian manners and usages through- 
 out Africa, may possibly be open to corroboration 
 from facts more odious, or less apparently frivolous, 
 than what belongs to the Bushman fii/. In ages still 
 more remote than those when ancient Egypt was the 
 model of civilization, there is no doubt but that Egypt 
 itself made its progress through all the stages of 
 savageness and barbarism. If, upon the shores of the 
 Mediterranean, in times nearer our own, the civiliza- 
 tion of Egypt and Greece was a contrast to the bar- 
 barism of Rome and Carthage ; so, there can be no 
 reason to dispute, that in times still longer past, the 
 barbarism of Egypt must have equalled whatever was 
 known in Libya anciently, or upon the western coast 
 of Africa at present. Human sacrifices, or bloody cere- 
 monials of mingled criminal punishment and of holy 
 worship, anciently disgraced Carthage, as they now 
 disgrace the west of Africa ; and, doubtless, these, and 
 all the grosser forms of religious observance, anciently 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 309 
 
 disgraced Egypt. Pegu and Hindostan, under Bud- 
 dhism and Braminism, had, not in the beginning, 
 their innocent sacrifices of flowers and butter and 
 silvered paper, but slaughtered, at their respective 
 altars, animals and men ; and Egypt, such as it was 
 more anciently than in the days of what is now called 
 ancient Egypt, had certainly not exchanged a corres- 
 ponding barbarism of worship, for that more exalted, 
 refined, and amiable sort, which alone, under our pre- 
 sent aspect, is attributed to her by history. Was 
 not, then, the whole religious system which we now 
 discover in the west of Central Africa, the system of 
 an ancient Egypt ; and are not the relics of the former 
 presented to us in and upon the refined remains of the 
 sumptuous temples of Esneh and Syeneh ? Are not, 
 then, the feteesh-houses of the Negroes of Central 
 Africa, the same with the earlier temples of an ancient 
 Egypt? While all the dwelling-houses of all the Pagan 
 nations of Africa are of the form of bee-hives, or circu- 
 lar in their ground-plan and elevation, the feteesh- 
 houses of the barbarian, and not .srti-«5^^ nations of Cen- 
 tral Africa, are square, or at least rectilinear in each 
 direction, like the ancient religious edifices of Egypt ; 
 and, under no faith whatever, is the form of the temple 
 matter of indifference, but always, in itself, a symbol of 
 the faith. But the feteesh-houses, like the temples of 
 ancient Egypt, are covered, within and without, with 
 figures of idols, in wood, and, in several respects, of an 
 exquisite sculpture*; and those idols, also, in either 
 case, wear the forms of animals, or take animals, at 
 
 * Lander's Records. Carving in wood, which, bj the way, is so 
 favourite an ornament in onr own churches, and of which so many 
 ancient elaborate specimens remain, is, as has been seen above, one 
 of the prominent arts of Negro or Central Africa, according to the 
 authoritv of that and other modern and instructive books. 
 
310 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 least, for the symbols of their respective natures. The 
 crocodile's egg, placed upon the tops of houses, is at 
 this day the charm, throughout Central Africa, against 
 all evil ; and the crocodile, as well as so many other 
 animals, was as sacred in ancient Egypt, as the whole 
 of them, at this day, throughout Central and Western 
 Africa. The worship of idols, in the crude form of ani- 
 mals, was the special characteristic of ancient Egypt ; 
 where, say contemporary writers, * they esteem dogs, 
 wolves, lions, crocodiles, and many other wild creatures 
 in the water and on the land, and birds, as gods;' and 
 if Egypt, India, and Greece progressively exchanged 
 or intermingled with this imagery, that of the human 
 figure, male and female, as more beautiful in itself, and 
 more worthy of the Divinity, than the figures of brutes, 
 retaining the latter only as parts, and finally only as 
 appendages of the former, and suflficiently for explain- 
 ing their signification ; so, at this day, do the Negro 
 nations also, in the feteesh-houses of their Central 
 Africa. But, once more, at this day, whether we look 
 to the Negroes, or else to the Bushmen and to the 
 CafFres of the extreme south of Africa ; a bond of union 
 presents itself between all these nations and the nations 
 of ancient northern Africa, and even Syria, in Asia, 
 and other countries, in the correspondencies of their 
 usages, opinions, prejudices, and manners. 
 
 " But the remaining task which I have prescribed 
 to myself is that of explaining to what common prin- 
 ciple or method of reasoning we are to trace, even 
 in its most corrupted, or most ignorant form, such a 
 worship as that of the Hottentot or Bushman^?/; and 
 of showing that this principle or method of reasoning, 
 to whatever abuses it may have been applied, and how- 
 ever blindly and ignorantly its deductions may have 
 been brought into practice, has sprung from some of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 311 
 
 the finest workings of the human mind ; has been acqui- 
 esced in by the most enlightened of men ; has been 
 recognised by the national faiths of the most polished 
 states ; has been spread among all mankind ; and, in 
 its practical inferences, at least, has been more or less 
 received and retained throughout all countries, civilized 
 and rude, and not in that of the humble Hottentot 
 alone! 
 
 " Our affair, then, is with the worship of an insect ; 
 and we shall leave out of our present view the various 
 worships of all animals excepting those of insects and 
 birds; that is, a reliance upon their knowledge, as 
 indicated by their actions, and upon the coming of 
 good or evil, either as foreshown by their knowledge, 
 or as dependent upon their power or their will ; and 
 the general superstition to be here referred to, which 
 includes animals of all classes, and even all objects in 
 nature, proceeds upon the idea, that an intelligent 
 spirit, morally good or bad, pervades all things, in- 
 cluding those apparently inanimate, as well as those 
 apparently animated ; and is manifested in each, for 
 good or for evil, according to the nature of its capabi- 
 lities, or means of manifestation. This doctrine, which, 
 nevertheless, it would be easy to place under a far sub- 
 limer aspect than is here presented, lies at the bottom, 
 in the meantime, of our Hottentot fly-worship, and of 
 a thousand other of the lowest superstitions -^ ! 
 
 "But the worship of certain insects, or of certain birds, 
 is more or less connected with a more detailed or pecu- 
 liar ancient view of the order of nature than that above 
 adverted to. In that very Egypt of which we have 
 been speaking, the ancient doctrine of the nature and 
 
 * The reader will recollect what has been said in a preceding 
 chapter (Chap. VII), concerning the doctrine of the sympathies. 
 
312 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 origin respectively, of the visible universe, and of all 
 its things or creatures (abating the variations of the 
 thought, some of which I will explain hereafter), was 
 this to be now stated ; that in and upon the separation 
 of the several elements composing matter, ether, filling 
 what we now call the ethereal space, or heaven, took 
 the highest position; fire, the next beneath; air, or 
 what we call the atmosphere, or atmospherical air, 
 the next; water, the next; and earth the lowest. 
 Bringing, next, all living creatures, at the beginning, 
 out of the earth, and believing, at the same time, that 
 all things earthy consisted of the four earthy elements 
 together, but variously proportioned; they further 
 judged of that proportion, or of the superior or upper, 
 and inferior or lower nature of things, by the situation 
 in which they found them, with respect to the several 
 positions of earth, water, air, fire, and ether ; for it 
 must be understood, that while, for one moment, we 
 are to think of all these elements as separate, and 
 occupying places one above another, like strata in geo- 
 logy; at the next, we must regard the four lowermost 
 as all commingled in the space or body which we 
 call earth, in the same manner as the ether as alone 
 and single in the space which we call heaven; and 
 must know of no other bodies, spaces, or strata, than 
 the two of earth and heaven. All this, however, 
 imagined, the ancient Egyptians then described all 
 classes of creatures (to speak, at present, only of 
 beasts, fishes, birds, insects, and the very stars) as 
 taking their places in the strata, which (for one of our 
 moments, at least) we are to think of, according to 
 the proportion of the^re contained in them ; assuming 
 fire as the lightest, or the least gross, of earthy elements, 
 and the most capable, therefore, of ascending highest. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-DREAST. 313 
 
 or into or toward the heavens, or possessing, in other 
 words, in the greatest share, a heavenly, or upper, or 
 superior nature ! It was, because, then, of the fier/ 
 or more heavenly nature of the stars, that these had 
 ascended into, and continued to dwell in the highest of 
 the visible strata, or that of ether, or the visible hea- 
 ven. Bat, after the stars, came the birds and insects, in 
 which, though the ethereal or heaven-ward fire was in 
 no sufficient proportion to allow of their reaching the 
 visible heaven, or sky, or ether, it yet enabled them to 
 live and move in air. Beneath the insects and birds was 
 man, as to the point of present consideration. Man 
 walks and lies upon the earth, and is, therefore, " of the 
 earth, earthy ;" but he carries his head in the air, and 
 is, so far, of the air, airy. He is a middle creature, 
 therefore, as, in reference to this question, the Egyp- 
 tians taught ; — a something between earth and air in 
 his nature; — and though, from his part-position m the 
 air, and therefore manifestly lighter, less gross, and 
 more fiery nature than the beasts of the field, which 
 hang their heads toward the ground ; yet, from his 
 part-position upon the earth, and consequent manifest 
 greater heaviness, grossness, and less fiery nature than 
 the birds and insects; therefore he is less heavenly, 
 less ethereal, less fiery, less endowed with light; less 
 wise, less virtuous, less beneficent, less excelling under 
 all these aspects, than the insects and birds; which 
 last, by consequence, are upper or superior creatures : 
 more endued with fire ; more excellent ; more ethereal ; 
 more heavenly; more of kindred with the stars, and 
 with the heavens in which the stars are shining, than 
 man ; who, though he can lift his head into the air, can 
 never raise his entire body from the earth, or from things 
 earthy ; but \\ho, leap he ever so high, or leap he ever 
 
 p 
 
314 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 SO often, comes down again, like a stone ; and appears 
 better or more exalted in creation than a stone, only 
 because, unlike a stone, he can really leap, and really 
 walk upright; though, like a stone, he must speedily 
 return to the earth, and, like a stone, must lie, at last, 
 upon it! 
 
 " But, with these foundations, which, as respecting 
 Africa, I particularly insist upon as Egyptian founda- 
 tions, though their origin is as much less circumscribed, 
 as their influence has been more universal ; upon these 
 identical Egyptian or African foundations, it may be 
 entirely sufficient to rest all my apology, in principle, 
 as well as in history, for the Hottentot or Bushman 
 fly. In stating the features of these foundations, I 
 have given my own, or, at least, my united versions 
 of the texts of many ancient writers; but, for the true 
 interpretation of their meanings, and for the deductions 
 which I make from their premises, I appeal to their 
 books. All that is to be apologized for, is the omission 
 of many correlative views, essential to the full and 
 comprehensive understanding of the subject: and which 
 I sacrifice to considerations of rapidity and brevity. 
 It is after this acquaintance, however, with the princi- 
 ples assumed by ancient philosophy, that I come 
 prepared to descry the meanings of the ancient poets, 
 whether in their remote allusions, or their more direct 
 assertions ; and it is to ancient poetry, as well as to 
 ancient philosophy, that I may always turn, to iden- 
 tify the opinions, the phrases, and the usages, of the 
 rudest of modern nations, with those of the greatest 
 and most polished of antiquity. Our learned talk 
 incessantly of distinctions of time, without understand- 
 ing that they are no more than distinctions oi place; 
 that antiquity is still living, and in full vigour, if we 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 315 
 
 will but g-o a few leagues to look upon it; and that what 
 we call ancient and modern, in the language, the notions, 
 and the practices of mankind, is, more commonly the 
 sole question of absent or present, or remote or 7iearP 
 Cross that sea, or that mountain; ascend from this 
 valley to that hill; or pass from the right bank of this 
 river to the left ; and you shall still find all that was ever 
 thought or done in the earliest ages of men's history ; 
 here, in perfect youth ; and there, in the decay of a 
 decayed civilization. Everywhere, the present savage 
 nations of the world are the descendants of those 
 anciently civilized ; and everywhere they retain, in 
 greater or less freshness, the ideas, the language, and 
 the manners of their fors^otten ancestors. ' An intelli- 
 gent missionary,' says a traveller at the Cape, ' whom 
 I saw in one of my excursions into Kafferland, ex- 
 pressed it as his belief, that the Kaffers are a people 
 who had once a much greater degree of civilization 
 than they now possess. He founded this opinion,' 
 continues the traveller, ' upon the copiousness of their 
 language, on their superstitions,' and other characteris- 
 tics which the traveller names ; and, what is here said of 
 theCaffres (that is, of those who must have been the 
 ancestors of the Caffres), is true, and either has been 
 said, or remains to be said, of every people similarly 
 circumstanced in the four quarters of the globe. 
 
 " But, to show, a little further, the identity of the 
 ideas of all nations, either savage or civilized ; and 
 to illustrate, a little more, the general augury from 
 birds and flies, and some, at least, of the principles 
 whence it has sprung; a recent English navigator* 
 was present, upon the shores of Arctic America, when 
 
 * Captain Beechy. 
 
 p2 
 
316 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 an Esquimaux* consulted the movements of an insect, 
 and a beetle, and ^fly, before he decided upon taking an 
 offer made him for his skins. Having almost finally 
 agreed to take an adze, in exchange for bis bundle, a 
 doubt came suddenly over his mind, that the skins were 
 of greater value ; upon which, taking up a small green 
 beetle, he placed it in the palm of his opposite hand, and 
 then watched its motions; after which, as the beetle 
 moved toward his wrist, and not aivay from it, he resolved 
 upon accepting the adze. Other omens, no doubt, 
 would have supplied the Escjuimaux with the direction 
 required ; and I do not dwell, in this place, on the 
 resort to an insect — beetle— fly ; but is not this insect- 
 augury of our Esquimaux, entirely as respectable as 
 the feir</-augury of the city of Rome, when, in its 
 proudest days, the philosophical Cicero was the public 
 augur; and when that' father of his country' — theTully 
 of the schools — was publicly deciding, not a bargain 
 for an adze or a bundle of skins, but questions of peace 
 and war — for ' the mistress of the world ;' — and not, 
 indeed, by the march of a beetle, but by the manner 
 in which those grains of corn rebounded, which hap- 
 
 * Properly, the word Esquimaux, which is a French plural, should 
 express the name of a whole people only, and not of one of its mem- 
 bers; but there is no singular, as Esquimau, in use, and it is proba- 
 ble that, if rightly rendered in English, we should say, Esk.i/n<7c, 
 and Eskimac*. The name has been written Eskimo; and there are 
 ^licmacs, &c.; other nations in the adjacent countries. French fur- 
 traders tell us, that the name Esquimaux, which is given by the 
 Indian neighbours of these people (for the Esquimaux are not 
 Indians), signifies " eaters of raw flesh ;" but, if the word is Algon- 
 quin Indian, its real meaning may be, " the people of the marshes, 
 or low, or fenny countries." The word eski, or ask i, is found, in this 
 sense of ' fenny,' in the names Abena^wi, or Abenaki, or Ahenaski, 
 and Athabasca, in North America ; and possibly in that of Ooualashka, 
 upon the coast of Northern Asia. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 317 
 
 pened to fall from the bills of the sacred chickens, as 
 they pecked, in slate, their food P A little later, too, 
 the Roman Virgil, speaking of creatures in the univer- 
 sal, declares, that 
 
 the seed of each 
 
 Is a divine and heavenly /a/ne ;' 
 
 and, after discoursing of the sagacity apparent in the 
 several tribes, beasts, fishes, birds, and insects, adds— 
 
 ' By sach examples taught, and by such marks, 
 Some have affirmed that bees themselves partake 
 Of the celestial mind, and breath ethereal ;' 
 
 to which he subjoins — 
 
 ' For God pervades the sea, and earth, and heavens j 
 V.'hence cattle, herds, men, and all kinds of beasts. 
 Derive the slender tie of breathing life.' 
 
 '' I have said, that the ages and nations referred to 
 are examples of the general disposition of mankind to 
 discover omens, warnings, and directors in all the 
 objects of nature; and this, as to antiquity at least, 
 upon the principle of that general pervading goodness 
 and intelligence, believed, according to this very lan- 
 guage of Virgil, to subsist in all those objects : 
 
 ' For God pervades the sea, the earth, and heavens :' 
 
 and I might have equally included all works o^ art, in 
 which, if nothing else (which, however, it did), the same 
 belief discovered, as the raw material, an object purely 
 natural. But, generalizing the works of nature and art, 
 and generalizing, also, the human addiction to omens, 
 how easy would it not be, that (for example) I should 
 draw a parallel betw^een the common body of English- 
 men, and my Romans, Egyptians, Hottentots, and 
 Esquimaux? What is the practice of deciding things 
 
318 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 by the toss of a piece of coin — what the expression, 
 ' the cast of a die,' — but so many instances of a course 
 of proceeding entirely similar to that of the Esquimaux 
 with his beetle, and of Cicero and his Romans with 
 their chickens*? I am more disposed, however, to 
 employ our present time, and trespass on your patience, 
 to fortify and expand what I have said, of the Egyptian 
 and other doctrines of the elementary composition of 
 creatures, and of their consequent respective ranks in 
 nature; by one observation, among many, in which, 
 perhaps, I may show you, that all this lies at the bottom 
 of Ovid's well-known account of the Creation, though, 
 as to the particular case of man, the modified system 
 of the author of the Metamorphoses finds a way of 
 placing our species at the head of all its mundane 
 associates ; — adverting, not to the composition of its 
 flesh, but to what I have mentioned as a saving 
 point in the previous estimate — not our being able to 
 leap into the air, — but the structure of our form — our 
 being able to walk upright — and our capacity, there- 
 fore, to look upward to the heavens. It might seem, 
 at the same time, that this was not an ancient thought of 
 the Latins ; for it is to the Greeks only that has been 
 ascribed the distinction of finding a name for the spe- 
 cies man, importing his erect or upright posture, and this 
 in the word avdpuTrog (anthropos), believed, by some, to 
 to have in view our power of ' looking upward ;' while, 
 in the Hebrew ' Adam,' as in the Latin ' homo,' we have 
 nothing but a reference to earth, or to that grossest of 
 earthly elements, of which, as belonging to the more gene- 
 ral philosophy,! have already spoken. I think, however, 
 
 * Were not the Succoth Benoth — the Hen and Chickens of the 
 city of Succoth — the oracles or idols of the Philistines, — entirely 
 identical with these exact instruments of augury of the Romans? 
 
ITS ROBLV-RED-BREAST. 319 
 
 that ' vir/ the Latin synonym for ' homo/ corresponds 
 with the sense attributed to the Greek avQpbiTroc; while 
 the Eng-lish word (' man') appears to me cognate with 
 the Latin ' mens/ — mind; and to be the same with 
 ' sapiens/ rational, or w ise ; making- the distinction, in 
 this manner, between men and the creatures whom 
 they so immensely surpass in rationality ; and thus 
 concurrins: with Ovid's other characteristic of man- 
 kind : 
 
 ' Sanctius his animal, mentisque. capacius alfcB, 
 Deerat adhuc, et quod dominari in caetera posset: 
 Natus Homo est.' 
 
 And this attribute of mind (as natural, and quite as 
 flattering as the attributes of erect posture and earthy 
 composition), seems so much the more likely to have 
 furnished at least one of the names of the species in 
 the old world, because I have happened to meet with it, 
 in this appropriation, in the new. 1 was once talking 
 with aChippeway (0-chibbuoy) or Algonquin Indian, 
 upon the side of Lake Ontario, at a time when the lake 
 was a sheet of ice as far as either of us could see ; and we 
 were speaking of the Indian word for ' man' or ' men/ 
 Now, thelndian gave me, first, the common Indian word ; 
 but added (and the use suggested, of different words 
 for the same thing, upon different occasions, is a great 
 truth, and a great lesson, in philology), ' we should 
 not use that word, however, if we wanted to speak of a 
 man, so as to say, with express contradistinction in 
 the terms, a man, and not a beast. If, for example,' 
 he went on (and employed the action, at the same 
 time, of looking to a great distance over the ice), ' we 
 saw something moving at a distance, and were in 
 doubt only whetlier it were a man or a beast, and I 
 
320 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 supposed it to be a man, I should say, damshinahe * (I 
 do not pretend," explained Mr. Hartley, *' to distinguish 
 this phrase, if it be such, into its separate words); that 
 is, a man, meaning a rational creature ; and not a beast, 
 or living or moving thing irrational.' 
 
 " But, to cite, and then to dismiss, our Ovid. I have 
 said that this philosophy gave inhabitants to the several 
 strata or regions of the universe, apportioned in con- 
 sistence with their lighter or their grosser elementary 
 composition ; and it is exactly thus that Ovid distributes 
 the stars, the gods, the birch (accompanied by the 
 insect s\),\hQ fishes, and the beasts. In the heaven, or 
 ether, he places his stars and gods ; in the waves his 
 fishes; upon the earth his beasts, and in the air his 
 birds; leaving^re to animate, in their several degrees, 
 the things of earth, and to make the whole substance of 
 the things of heaven, in the loftier sense : 
 
 • Astra tenenl coeleste solum, formseque deorum ; 
 Cesserunt nitidis habitandae piscibus undae ; 
 Terra feras cepit ; volucres agitabilis aer.' 
 
 * Some persons will possibly take notice of the occurrence of the 
 sound ishi, or isha, in the term or phrase above ; and, if they are 
 eager for the discovery,eitherof Hebrews, or of the Hebrew language, 
 among the American Indians, they will dwell upon its coincidence with 
 the Hebrew isha, a man. 
 
 t Pliny has obviously described ^re-^ies under the name of birds ; 
 and we ourselves call one of our beetles (the lady-bird) a bird. In 
 truth, mankind have been slow to distinguish rigorously, by separate 
 general names, both birds and insects, as also reptiles and fishes. Birds 
 are wincjed, and we say winged insects j and in this general sense of 
 iimiged, Ovids ' volucres,' and our English synonym, ' fowls,' may as 
 well be winged insects as birds. The English nameof6ir(/s, has, indeed, 
 a sense more distinctive ; but, then, birds are fowls, and fowls are 
 ' volucres;' and ' volucres' may be any description of v:inged or 
 fiying creatures, or flies. It is different with ' aves.' 
 
ITS ROBiy-RED-BREAST. 321 
 
 Meanwhile, in speaking of the creation of man, he 
 says, 
 
 ' Pronaque dam spectent anitualia cfetera terrain, 
 Os sublime dedit, cahnnque tueri 
 Jussit, et erectos ad s'ulpra tollere viilfus ;' 
 
 thus distinguishing men from beasts by their erect 
 posture, by their capability and habit of looking to the 
 skies; while beasts are bent toward the earth, and their 
 eyes more commonly directed to it. Dryden renders 
 the passage in the following rather unhappy verses; 
 for, besides other faults, they contain more, and they 
 also contain less, than their originals : 
 
 * Thus, while the mate creation downward bend 
 Their sight, and to their earthly mother tend ; 
 Man looks aloft, and, with erected eyes, 
 Beholds his own hereditary skies ;' — 
 
 and he elsewhere makes use of it again ; though still, 
 as will be observed, with an accompaniment not found 
 in Ovid : 
 
 ' Last man arose, erect, in youthful grace ; 
 Heaven's hallowed image stamped upon his face:' 
 
 indeed, we are all aware, how much so many modern 
 poets (Dryden, Milton, and others) are indebted to 
 Ovid's account of the Creation; which, I may add, 
 is substantially the same with that in Genesis. How 
 nearly the two accounts run parallel, is well seen 
 from the flicility with which they are blended, as is 
 conspicuously the case in the English words ol the 
 recitatives and airs respectively, of Haydn's Oratorio of 
 the Creation ; which Eno^lish w ords, as vou remember, 
 in so far as they are O vidian, are English re-translations 
 (of but moderate merit) from the German translation 
 of ^Nlilton. Take, for example, the Recitative — ' And 
 
 p3 
 
322 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 God said, Let the earth bring forth the living creature 
 after its kind, cattle, and creeping thing, and beasts of 
 the earth after their kind ;* and then the Air : 
 
 ' Now heaven in fullest glory shone, 
 Earth smiled in all her rich attire ; 
 The peopled air with fowl is filled ; 
 The water swelled with shoals of fish ; 
 By heavy beasts the ground is trod:' 
 
 and, next, the Recitative — ' And God created man 
 after his own image, in the image of God created he 
 him. Male and female created he them. He breathed 
 into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a 
 living soul.* After which, the Air : 
 
 * In native worth and honour clad, 
 
 With beauty, courage, strength adorned, 
 
 Erect, with front serene, he stands, 
 
 A man, the king and lord of all : 
 
 His lofty and expanded brow 
 
 Of wisdom deep declares the seat: 
 
 And in his eyes with brightness shines 
 
 The soul, the breath, and image of his God:' 
 
 now, as you see, in all these words of the ' Airs,' which 
 are themselves but amplifications of the Scriptural 
 ' Recitatives,' we have nothing but fresh renderings, 
 variations, and amplifications, upon those passages of 
 Ovid which I just now repeated '/' 
 
 " Your quotations,'' observed Mrs. Paulett, " remind 
 me of a very pleasing passage in the translation of 
 Krummacher's ' Days of Creation.' It seems, to me, 
 somewhat to ' sparkle' in the description, like the 
 subject it describes. It belongs to the ' Second Day :' 
 
 ' Strophe II. 
 ' God spake : the murmuring waters (led. 
 
 They left their deep repose ; 
 While, overarching heaven's blue vault, 
 
 The firmament arose : 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. o2-3 
 
 ' Chorts. 
 
 ' Now sparkles above 
 
 Heaveu's glorious blue ; 
 It sends to the earth 
 
 The light and the dew.' " 
 
 " But the Metamorphoses/' said Mr. Paulett, " are 
 often spoken of as an idle and a paltry literature?" 
 
 " And yet Bishop Warburton," returned Mr. Hart- 
 ley, " thought them, under the mask of fable, a con- 
 tinuous history of ' the providences of God - .' I cannot 
 end, in the mean time, these references to the Creation 
 of Ovid, including (as is the case with this his poetry) 
 its connection with that philosophy of the elements, of 
 which we have spoken; without remarking how much 
 this test of looking upward, as importing, by so much, 
 a lightness — fieriness — or heavenliness — of nature, 
 must have contributed to the veneration of the Eagle 
 (a veneration, by the way, as complete, at present, 
 among the Indians of America, as anciently among 
 the Romans of Italy) ; the Eagle being renowned for 
 ascending, and looking with undazzled eyes, towards 
 the great sun itself; attributes (so to say) of a tiery 
 nature ; and to which attributes again, we find allusion, 
 in the words of our Oratorio : 
 
 ' On mightv pens, the Eagle wings 
 Her loftj way through air sublime ; 
 And cleaves the sky in swiftest flight 
 To the blazing sun !' " 
 
 * See Warburton's Divine Legation of Mosts. 
 
324 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent; 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 " But these thoughts remind me" (interrupted Mr. 
 Paulett, at this point of the conversation begun in my 
 last chapter), " that in what you have said of the phi- 
 losophy, we saw^ve elements, and Jive strata or regions 
 in space ; wdiereas, both from what appears in the poet, 
 and what is usual in common speech, there should, of 
 either, be hut four P" 
 
 " The Jive elements,*' replied Mr. Hartley, " and the 
 Jive strata or regions to which they are fancifully said 
 to be peculiar, are (as it has appeared) earth, water, 
 air, ether, and fire ; ether, at the same time, being 
 sometimes, indeed, denominated ether, but also some- 
 times, spirit. Now, for all these five, the ancient 
 science has distinguishing symbols, or marks or cha- 
 racters for notation ; and there would be nothing 
 variable, were it not that, with respect to the fourth 
 SLiidJifth, that is, ether and fire, there is a subtilization 
 of fancy among the philosophers, and a popular 
 oblivion of either the one or the other, as the case 
 happens; w^hich lead, here, to the changing of places 
 w ith each other, and there, to the omission of the one 
 or the other, so, in either way, as to reduce the estimate 
 to four. I have said that it is four which belong to 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 325 
 
 earth, and the remaining ^/A to heaven: but ^vhich 
 is to be called {he fifth F Is \h\^ fire, or is it ether:"" 
 
 " Did your old philosophers, then/' said Mr. Paulett, 
 " leave that important point unsettled?'' 
 
 " They left these two rarer elements/' returned 
 IMr. Hartley, " what, upon their scheme, they must 
 always continue, — elements movable, in imagination, 
 either to this place or that; and I will speak, first, 
 upon the hypothesis that the uppermost element, 
 instead of being ether, is fire. INIy pencil shall help 
 me as I go ; and I think that, in this manner, I may be 
 able to explain myself, even to our young friends 
 around us." 
 
 " They are full of attention to you already/' said 
 Mr. Paulett ; " and I am sure thev will be delio-hted 
 as well as quite able to understand you, when they see 
 you use your pencil !" 
 
 " It must always be borne in mind," resumed 
 Mr. Hartley, " that the old philosophers had ever in 
 reserve, though they brought it less frequently into view, 
 a higher heaven than the ether, or than the ' ethereal 
 space / as well as a higher God than any of the stars, or 
 of the dii, which, as we have seen, Ovid places in ccslus, 
 heaven, or the ether, or this ' ethereal space.' Now, 
 this higher, or this highest heaven, or this ' heaven of 
 heavens,' they made the place oijire; and it would be 
 endless to bring you illustrations of all the influence of 
 that conception, as well upon the language and usages 
 of antiquity, as upon the language, if not the usages, 
 that are still current among ourselves. Earth, water, 
 air, and ether, are at present to be understood as 
 successively composing all the lower world, nudjire 
 all the upper. But it is this heaven o{ Jire, which, as 
 
326 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the name imports, we call the empyrean; and it is 
 into this heaven, — this heaven of heavens, — that Mil- 
 ton, in his poetic character, has entered: 
 
 ' Into the heaven of heavens I have presumed, 
 An earthlj guest, and drawn empyrean air ;' 
 
 and it is to this heaven that Shakspeare alludes, when 
 his Chorus, in Henry the Fifth, exclaims, 
 
 ' O for a Muse o^ fire, that might ascend 
 The brightest heaven of invention !' 
 
 But jire, under another name, and another aspect, is 
 the same thing as light ; and thus Milton makes heaven, 
 or the dwelling-place of God, and even God himself, 
 to be light, or fire: 
 
 * Hail, holy Light, offspring of heaven first born ! 
 May I approach thee unblamed, since Gou is light. 
 And never but in unapproached light. 
 From all eternity hath dwelt ; dwelt, then, in thee V 
 
 And it is, again, to this samejlre, or light, and to this 
 same ' approach^ to it, rather by a conceit, than by a 
 more enviable thought, that Gray refers, in allusion to 
 Milton's blindness : 
 
 ' He saw, but blasted with excess of light, 
 Closed his eyes in endless night.' 
 
 In a word, it is amid this blaze of glory of the heaven 
 of fire, that God himself is so often represented to 
 us as lost, or finally hidden from all view ; though, 
 upon other occasions, it is darkness, and not light, 
 which is the image used. But, now, for the ascending 
 series of the elements, and corresponding series of the 
 strata or regions (called, sometimes, also, worlds) thus 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 
 
 327 
 
 assigned to space. I will draw them us Jive in number; 
 and will describe the fire of the highest heaven as 
 pervading, from that point, all the /<?«;* regions under- 
 neath, or mingling with the four elements more gross; 
 
 S Fire. 
 
 /Q-. 
 
 .'."': '■ \ 
 
 '4.Ether.\ 
 
 / / i 
 
 3.Air. \ 
 
 fe. Water. 
 
 l.Eai-th, 
 
 and this will illustrate to you the doctrine of the phi- 
 losophers and poets, both that 
 
 ' God pervades the sea, the earth, and heavens ;' 
 
 and that, as to creatures in the universal, or creatures 
 of all elements, either as to composition or place of 
 abode, 
 
 ' The seed of each 
 
 Is a divine and heavenly ^ame;' 
 
328 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 languag-e and explanations, these, by means of which 
 you will be led to understand so many of the phrases 
 that you daily hear, and to be informed upon a g-reat 
 variety of topics to which it would be elaborate for 
 me to do more than slightly point. Take it, for once, 
 that the seed, or soul, or vital spirit — 
 
 ' Is a divine and heavenly flame ;' 
 
 and you are prepared to comprehend the allusion, not 
 only of the poet, when he addresses the soul — 
 
 * Vital spark of heavenly flame ;* 
 
 but also in the daily and common-place expressions of 
 Mife being extinguished' — ' the vital spark extinct;' 
 and so many others, which, from time to time, fall in 
 your way. For, though there are many persons who 
 would think that such subjects as these we are 
 discussing are too far removed from ' daily life' to 
 belong to the ' true wisdom;' no sentence can be 
 more ill-informed than that, if we are really to under- 
 stand what we are daily saying, and are daily hearing 
 said ; and reading in all the pages of our books. As 
 an example of the relation of the ideas before us to 
 matters of history; that is, to the usages and fortunes 
 of mankind in civil life ; in addition to all w^hich is 
 joined with that comprehensive subject of human inte- 
 rest, the human imagination; let me ask, whether you 
 remember, in the history of our own Wickliffe, or 
 in that of other men who have fallen under censure, 
 either of law or of public opinion, the act recorded, of 
 digging up the dead body, reducing it to ashes, and 
 then throwing those ashes into a river or running 
 stream? Now, what was the motive for all this, or 
 what were these acts designed to signify; or, how did 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 329 
 
 they come to be practised ; and under what notions 
 could they have meaning? They were founded upon 
 the belief which we have here seen, that the soul is 
 celestial ^re, or by another title, ' heavenly flame ;^ 
 that water, therefore, is its opposite; that water can 
 extinguish, can destroy it — and water only; that it can 
 lie latent in the ashes of the dead, but must perish 
 when those ashes are drowned ; and, through all this, 
 whether symbolically alone, or in the vulgar belief, 
 that material fire, and material water, are the things 
 really spoken of; the reducing the body of the dead 
 to ashes, and then scattering those ashes over a stream 
 which will both drown and carry them away ; is 
 designed to express, if not the possibility of thus 
 utterly destroying, extinguishing — annihilating — body 
 and soul, — the person hated or condemned, — at least to 
 be a symbol of that virtuous detestation — that ' holy 
 anger' — which (so it was taught) abhors the wicked; 
 and which therefore desires, — even if it cannot bring to 
 pass, — their total obliteration from the ranks of being ! 
 But such, then, and from such foundations, have been 
 deeds and practices that belong to history; and if, 
 again, we turn to poetry, the same thoughts present 
 themselves, and only, by their being understood, can 
 poetry itself be made intelligible. The line, for exam- 
 ple, in the Elegy in a Country Church-yard — 
 
 ' E'en in our ashes I'ne their wonted /re*,' 
 
 has sometimes perplexed critics, but becomes entirely 
 explicable under the view which we are taking. The 
 ' fires' in c^uestion are the animating spirit ; the ani- 
 mating spirit is the nature, the affections, the under- 
 standing of the man. The poet says. 
 
330 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ' But who, to dumb forgetful ness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
 ' On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
 
 E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries. 
 E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires I' 
 
 And what is it, then, that the poet means, but that 
 (after allowing himself the figure of calling the dying 
 actually the dead, and of speaking of the deathbed as 
 * the tomb'), even in the dying, and in his place of 
 death; — even in what the poet thus calls his grave ; — 
 his ashes — the nature, the soul, the spirit, ih&fire, the 
 feelings, the understanding of the man — are still sur- 
 viving, and still connecting him with all that the world 
 has given him to love?" 
 
 " I remember," said Mr. Paulett, " that in this pas- 
 sage. Gray imitates an Italian poet, and has been 
 found too fanciful, in his mode of expression, for many 
 of his readers." 
 
 " I might show," continued Mr. Hartley, '* the 
 prevalence of the whole notion, or whole mode of 
 expressing a great principle, in various sayings and 
 transactions of mankind ; but, after now placing before 
 you the elements and regions of the universe in that 
 order which makes^re the loftiest, and supposes birds 
 and insects the most Jiery, or most heavenly, of the 
 creatures of the earth, because, like the * Muse o{ fire,' 
 in Shakspeare, they are best prepared to ' ascend' into 
 the highest or the ' brightest' or fifth ' heaven,' or ' hea- 
 ven of heavens,' or * empyrean ;'— I will now suppose 
 only four regions, and four elements, and then see 
 what we shall do with the fifth of both." 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 
 
 331 
 
 " You are layino: stress, here/' said Mr. Pauletl, 
 " upon the number /t-e ,- but did not antiquity also 
 insist greatly upon the number seven P'' 
 
 " The number seven;' answered Mr. Hartley, " be- 
 longs to a different reckoning of realities, and to a 
 different adjustment, therefore, of the correspondencies 
 of things imaginary ; and it is the same with the num- 
 ber nine. But, to our number /o/<r." 
 
 Mr. Hartley, while thus speaking, drew five parallel 
 lines, to represent, as he described them, the regions 
 or divisions of universal space, or space including, 
 both too^ether, the heaven or the heavens, and the 
 
 4.Etlier. / 
 
 
 
 '2^V^ater. \ 
 
 1. Earth. 
 
 earth; giving to earth and heaven equal shares of 
 space, or crowding the three earthy elements into a 
 
332 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 division no more expansive than that enjoyed by the 
 one heavenly element alone ; for, between every two 
 lines, he wrote the name of one of the four elements, 
 earth, water, air, and ether. He left, however, a small 
 opening in the centre of the middle line, in which, to 
 represent Xheffth element, or fire, he drew, as it were, 
 the body of the sun, and then dotted a few rays in all 
 directions, from that centre, across, or, as it were, 
 behind, or in the midst of \\\e Jive lines, or the four 
 elements or regions ; to represent the diffusion of the 
 " vital j^«m<?,'* or of the " celestial ^/-e," through all 
 things, and all space ; just as it is said by Virgil : 
 
 " For God pervades the sea, the earth, and heavens ;" 
 
 ' the heavens,* in a passage like this, signifying the 
 ' ethereal space,' and not the space or region of ' celes- 
 tial j^re;' that region being now placed behind, be- 
 yond, or in the midst of all creation, the visible, or 
 the ethereal heaven, inclusive; " for, remember," said 
 he, as he drew, " it answers equally well, as you will 
 observe, if we express an idea of the invisible heaven 
 by placing it beyond or behind the visible, or as thus 
 hidden by it from our sight ; or, if we place it beyond 
 and above it, and in that manner hidden and out of 
 our sight also. Further, as to the communication, to all 
 things, and through all space, of the celestial ^re ; it is 
 the same whether we make it descend from an upper 
 region to a lower, or spread from a middle region 
 toward each extremity ; or, in other words, through all, 
 and around all." 
 
 Or, again, he drew a figure, supposed of universal 
 space, in which he gave equal dimensions to his four 
 regions; and then, placing his fifth behind, surround- 
 ing, or in the midst of them (for it is all these together). 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 
 
 333 
 
 he wrote the name of ' fire,' or the ' fifth/ upon every 
 side of the square composing it; not that there were 
 four fires, but that the one fire was throughout, or 
 
 ^.Kre. 
 
 
 4.Ether. 
 
 \3.Am 
 
 ^AV^ter; 
 
 l.Eartli. 
 
 5.F] 
 
 ire. 
 
 
 upon every side. It would be easy," said he, in after- 
 ward laying- down his pencil, " to represent the idea of 
 which I wish to convey the ocular expression, by 
 staining a transparency \\ ith four horizontal bands or 
 bars of colour (as, red, blue, green, yellow) to repre- 
 sent the four elements or regions, earth, water, air, 
 and ether ; and placing, then, a lamp behind the 
 whole, to almost more than typify the fifth, or show 
 xhe four enlightened, warmed, and visited by the fifth, 
 as the philosophy teaches all space, all spaces, and 
 all their inhabitants or creatures to be visited, warmed. 
 
334 BLRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 enlightened ; but to which it adds the idea, that 
 this fifth, or this fire, uniting itself, either in 'places, 
 or in creatures, formed of elements variously gross 
 or heavy, as earth, water, air, and ether in suc- 
 cession ; those elements, each by each, light, or rare, 
 so far countervail the influence of the informing fire, 
 as to retain, in the composition, their own shares 
 of earthiness or grossness ; and that hence birds and 
 insects, as lighter (since they ascend higher) less coun- 
 tervail their ^re, are less obscured in wisdom, and in 
 all native excellence, both than the heavy quadrupeds, 
 and even than two-footed men ; and can communicate 
 to man, therefore, with peculiar truth and facility, the 
 dictates of a heavenly wisdom, where he is himself 
 ignorant and unwise ! There," said he, " are my figures. 
 I need not expose to you the absurdity of the conclu- 
 sions of which I am now speaking having been drawn 
 from what they illustrate. Those are but matters of 
 human history, and to know them is only to know so 
 much history ; but, in the meantime, it will not escape 
 you, that they really agree with the nature of the 
 elements themselves, or of those bodies which we com- 
 monly call elements, and with the order of their 
 incumbency in nature, and appearance in the visible 
 creation. Earth is the heaviest of the whole, and the 
 remainder are light in the same series as is here repre- 
 sented ; and again, the earth is the lowest of the strata 
 or regions with which we are acquainted; water lies 
 upon the earth, or rises above it, whether we look at the 
 seas and rivers in their beds, or at the clouds or vapours 
 in the air ; the air or atmosphere is above the water, as 
 the water is above the earth ; and that purer air, or 
 ether, which we believe to be above the atmosphere of 
 the earth, and to be a fluid extending through all space. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 335 
 
 is, of course, and as here represented, above the air ; 
 and equally true is it, that fire, or the matter of heat, 
 is ditiused through all. These things, indeed, are 
 either evident to your eyes, or discoverable by your 
 hastiest reflections; but mv fioures may promote 
 your giving- heed to them, and thus help you on the 
 path of natural knowledge, at the same time as on 
 that of historical, and of those flights or wanderings 
 of the human imagination which yet sometimes lead 
 us to great truths, and always prepare us for polite 
 letters, where they enter so freely, and for daily 
 conversation, which, as I have said, they so often 
 illustrate and explain*. At the lowest, too, they will 
 probably convince us of the truth of that historical 
 doctrine with which I set out, as exemplified in 
 the wilds of America and Africa; and leave little 
 difficulty in conceding, both upon ancient and modern 
 testimony, that neither the Bushman with hisjii/, nor 
 the Esquimaux with his beetle, are so far behindhand, 
 as might be imagined, with the brightest ornaments of 
 ancient learning, philosophy, poetry, and general civi- 
 lization ; that the Egyptian wisdom has as surely 
 travelled southward to the Cape, to languish, there, in 
 
 * At a former page (page 200) of this volume, the reader has seen 
 a chart of the heavens, or of the universe, as considered with respect 
 to the distribution of its bodies, or the history of its natural appear- 
 ance ; and, in the figures now presented to him above, he maj be 
 said to see charts of the distribution of the same universe in respect 
 of its elements ; either those previous bodies which enter into the 
 composition of all others, or those occupants o^ space which mav be 
 considered as independent and exclusive of all creatures in space, or 
 all organic forms: the earth before and without men or beasts; 
 the water before and without fishes ; the air before and without 
 birds or insects ; and ether before and without those planets, stars, 
 constellations, galaxy, and nebulae, which fill up all the area of the 
 earlier chart or figure. 
 
336 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the bosoms of despised Hottentots and Bushmen ; as, 
 northward, to Greece and Rome, to shine, in those 
 quarters, upon the heads of Thales, Pythagoras, 
 Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, and to ' moralize' the 
 songs of an Ovid, of a Virgil, and of a Horace ; and that, 
 in reality, one system of ancient opinion, more or less 
 preserved even to the present day, unites at present, 
 as it also united anciently, every nation of the earth 
 with every other nation, either ancient or modern, or 
 savage or civilized ! 
 
 " We mentioned, however, at the beginning (con- 
 cluded Mr. Hartley), that the system leaves it always 
 an open or changeable position, which of two ele- 
 ments (the fire or the ether) is the Jiflh element, or 
 celestial substance, or pervading spirit. We have 
 spoken, hitherto, as if it were definitively ^re ; but, to 
 imagine it the other way, we have only, while keeping 
 all our present figures, so far to alter our arrangement, 
 as to make ether, instead o{ Jire, the fifth; and, in 
 that case, we leave to the earth, or to the visible 
 universe, the four material elements, commonly so 
 called (or earth, water, air, and fire); and give to the 
 heaven, or the ethereal space, the fifth, or ether. You 
 will see, that in this way, we part with fire, or light, 
 as the element of heaven; — and in reality, despite of 
 Milton, it is not always taught, that 
 
 ' God is light. 
 
 And never but in unapproached light, 
 From all eternity hath dwelt.' 
 
 Under an aspect at least equally reverential, God, and 
 the abode of God (as in the Greek hymn of Clean- 
 thes), have been clothed in an image the exactly 
 opposite : 
 
 * Who in thick darkness niak'st thy dread abode !'" 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 337 
 
 CHAP. XXIV 
 
 Not within the hospitable hall, 
 
 The cheerfal sound of haman voice I hear! 
 
 LANGHORNE. 
 
 Once, when the author of Rasselas was invited forth 
 to dinner, and had nothing of a household to leave at 
 home but his cat, and no suitable provision, as he 
 judged, even for Grimalkin, in his absence; the tender- 
 hearted sage pondered, for some little time, upon the 
 means by which he should contrive that puss, any 
 more than himself, did not go without a dinner. The 
 ditficulty was, to satisfy the call of humanity without 
 sacrifice of worldly dignity. To have posted to a cat's- 
 meat shop, and to have brought home the cat's-meat 
 upon a skewer, in the streets of the proud metropolis 
 of England, would have been an errand too unworthy 
 of the biographer of the Poets, the compiler of the 
 English Dictionary, and the companion of Garrick, 
 Burke, and Reynolds. But Johnson had not analyzed 
 the poems of Gray, without charging his memory with 
 the verse — ■ 
 
 " What cat's averse to fish?" 
 
 and he joined, upon this occasion, to the judicious 
 inquiry of the poet, the judicious reflection of a man 
 of the world (and especially of the Fleet-street world), 
 that though it might be doubtful whether a gentleman 
 could well be seen entering a cat's-meat shop, there 
 was no obstacle whatever to his resorting to a dealer's in 
 
338 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 oysters. Whether, even at an oyster-shop, the Doctor 
 could not have catered to puss's satisfaction more 
 handily than it came into his head to resolve upon, is 
 still another cjuestion ; but, almost as if to enhance 
 the merit of his work, he took a course that was not 
 without inconvenience. As the oysters w'ere to be 
 opened, as well as purchased and transported ; and as 
 this was a piece of art beyond the reach both of 
 Grimalkin and himself; — as it was happily a winter's 
 day ; — and as the bulky scholar was not anxious about 
 the nice adjustment of his clothing-, he sallied from his 
 lodging with a saucer, which, when filled with opened 
 oysters, and carefully borne, in a due horizontal posi- 
 tion, beneath the covering of his great-coat, he suc- 
 ceeded in bringing safely to his purring inmate. Let 
 us remember, too, that this was the same man, who, 
 upon finding, at another time, a sick woman in the 
 street, carried her home upon his back. 
 
 If there was any thing needlessly troublesome in the 
 plan of this work of charity for puss, all men will, at the 
 least, admire its motive; but my excellent friends, at 
 Burford Cottage, were one day less considerate, and 
 perhaps the afflictions which fell upon me and mine 
 in the result, and the only partial restoration which 
 even the same hands were able to accomplish, will 
 afford, in their narration, a moral for the well-mean- 
 ing, as showing the value of time, and of attention 
 to the circumstances which it is often needful to bear 
 in mind, when we would aid the feeble or unfortunate ! 
 " He gives twice, who gives quickly,^' says the proverb ; 
 and it is no less true, that he may give tenfold who 
 ^estows his relief, both at the moment, and in the 
 manner, which meets the actual circumstances of the 
 distressed I 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 339 
 
 It happened, that in the very midst of the rigorous 
 weather which now prevailed, Mr. and Mrs. Paulett, 
 and their children, went from home, upon a visit to a 
 neighbouring mansion, where king and c|ueen were to 
 be drawn for by the children, upon Twelfth Day ; and, 
 while the latter departed, full of mirth and expecta- 
 tion as to the festival, it failed them to remember, that 
 whatever lot was to be theirs, they left to me the lot of 
 misfortune; that while they were seeking festivity, 
 they left to me mourning; and that even the evil 
 which was sure to arrive, might be less than the uncer- 
 tain evil that should become its consequence! These 
 were the certainties and the uncertainties of the occur- 
 rence ; and they fell upon me, both, in their very 
 cruelest of forms ! 
 
 Upon the morning after their departure, I resorted 
 to the front of the parlour-windows; but let the reader 
 imagine for himself the solitude, the silence, the chilling 
 aspect; the language, as it were, of rejection; and 
 above all, the contrast with the customary welcome 
 and invitation, which the scene displayed to my un- 
 happy eyes ! The ground was covered deep with a 
 white unvaried snow. The laurels, the laurustinuses, 
 and the arbutuses, scarcely showed the under-sides of 
 a few green leaves among them all, weighed down as 
 were the whole of their branches and their verdure, their 
 red-berries, and cinnamon-coloured blossom-buds, be- 
 neath thick coats of snow. And, opposite to these 
 forbidding shutters, which, at my first arrival, were still 
 unopened, were naked panes of glass, through which, 
 on every other morning, I had seen the fulness of a 
 picture so cheerful, and heard a music so delightful; — 
 
 " The dome resounding sweet with infant joy j" — 
 
 q2 
 
340 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 the voices of so many friends ; and all enlivened with 
 the movement of hospitable hands, the groupings of 
 the plenteous breakfast-table, and the lustre and the 
 glow of the golden, ruby fire! The shutters were 
 opened late ; and when, at length, they were actually 
 opened, what was the blank within ! At the unusual 
 noise of the opening, and at (to me) the unusual 
 appearance of the servant for that purpose, I had fled ; 
 and at my return, not long delayed, what was there 
 but the naked darkness of a mahogany board ; chairs, in 
 melancholy order, round the walls ; a carpet without 
 one merry, or one kindly foot, to give life and lightness 
 to its dead, dull, worsted flowers; cold impenetrable 
 glass at the closed windows; and black coals, and 
 unburnt wood, in the dreary, melancholy grate ! " Oh 
 life,^* T cried ; " oh speech ; oh friends, and oh busy 
 ways of men ; what are the abodes of men without 
 you!" 
 
 I retired from the freezing spectacle ; I withdrew 
 from the hard-bound and congealing spot, made moFe 
 than a hundred-fold thus frightful by the contrast with 
 what I had experienced at it 1 I withdrew to my hungry 
 and expecting mate, and made her as forlorn as even 
 myself, by communicating, not only the disappoint- 
 ment, but a disappointment so strange, so fearful, 
 so inexplicable ! But there remained for us only that 
 search after a breakfast, which the previous bounty of 
 our friends made a present pungent hardship. 
 
 We flew to the next dwelling, where, however, I 
 looked in vain for the smallest portion of food. We 
 tried a second, and a third, and fourth; but all with 
 the same ill-fortune. At some, there was nothing 
 cast abroad ; at others, the scantiest pickings had been 
 eagerly gleaned, either by the pigs or barn-door fowls. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 341 
 
 or by the bands of starving sparrows *. At all, the 
 doors and windows were fast closed, to keep out the 
 pitiless cold. 
 
 I can scarcely tell through what unhappy impulse 
 we had been induced to take a direction contrary to 
 that of ]Mr. Gubbins's, and Farmer Mowbray's; and 
 were led on, by one delusive prospect or another, 
 in the road that we had chosen. From whatever cause, 
 how^ever, it had thus happened ; and our wants be- 
 
 * It will not be found disagreeable, perhaps, if we attempt to 
 enliven the pages of this sorrowful chapter of our little friend, the 
 Robin, by the insertion of a whimsical remark upon sparrows, along 
 with a testimony to the " genius" o? starlings, and a new and pleasing 
 anecdote of the intellisrence and attachment o^ the pigeon species. 
 
 " It was the custom of Glover, the landscape-painter," says a con- 
 temporary, " in the summer season, to visit the most romantic parts of 
 England and Wales, and there to pitch his tent, and draw and colour 
 from nature. His sole companions in these excursions were birds, 
 with whom be held colloquy, professing perfectly to understand their 
 language, and to have made them conversant with his own. Pigeor;s 
 were his favourites, as being the most intelligent : of the latter 
 species, he had one who would sit on his shoulder while he was at 
 work, and who, when evening came, was wont, at a given signal, to 
 fly home, and await his master's return. One day, the artist made a 
 circuitous route, and being interested in sketching some newly 
 discovered scene, or catching some extraordinary effect of light, 
 forgot the hour ; when he was surprised at seeing the little creature 
 [returned and] soaring [hovering] above his head, and at length 
 alighting on his accustomed perch [his shoulder]. When seated 
 there, it expressed, by the querulous tones of its voice, and the sharp- 
 ness of its beak, its displeasure [at the delay of its master following 
 it home], which Glover was, for awhile, puzzled to divine the occasion 
 of. He soon, however, threw him up in the air, and pointed toivarils 
 the encampment; but his attached friend resumed his old post, and 
 would not be driven away, nor would ever afterwards be induced to 
 lose sight of him ; being afraid, as the painter said, that it was his 
 intention to give hira the slip I Starlings, he [Mr. Glover] used to 
 iav, were possessed of great genius; and being asked which of the 
 feathered tribes were the least so, after a pause, he replied, sparrotc* 
 — not that they wanted talent, but that they were ' vulgar fellows.'" 
 Medivins Angler in Wales. 
 
342 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 came so pressing, that we were ready to rejoice over 
 the humblest food, had it been possible to find it. 
 A crumb of potato, and almost the thin skin of a 
 potato, would have been seized by us with avidity. 
 At length, in a remote nook, we espied the open door 
 of a low and half-ruined hut, and within it the light 
 of a handful of burning fuel, — turf, briers, and cow- 
 dung. It was past the dinner-time of its inhabitants. 
 With the long-sighted vision of a Redbreast, and of a 
 famishing wanderer, I descried, upon its earthen floor, 
 and near its disordered hearth, a few crumbs of the 
 potatoes upon which the family had chiefly dined. I 
 alighted at the stone before the door ; and, though the 
 single room of which the hut consisted was filled with 
 smoke from the small and feeble fire — the smoke which 
 was the sole reason for the open door — I speedily 
 advanced into the very interior of the dwelling, allured 
 by the few and meagre crumbs before me. Upon a 
 small, uncovered, three-legged table, stood the red dish 
 which had contained the meal, and near the chimney 
 the earthen skillet in which it had been boiled ; and I 
 could have perched upon, and hopped into either, in 
 pursuit even of a solitary crumb, had one been left ; 
 and this in spite of the children, and their parents, 
 whom I found there. But, there was nothing eatable 
 that I could discern, except the two or three potato- 
 crumbs which I had at first, and from the distant 
 hedge, discovered. Even for these, however, I had 
 rivals. The biggest child was crying for more dinner ; 
 and the two smaller, upon all fours, between the legs 
 of the table, were contending with each other for a 
 crumb which, after much search, one of them had just 
 found out. With my little eyes, and little bill, neverthe- 
 less, I picked up a few fragments, too small to gratify. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 343 
 
 or even to be seen by my competitors; but when, 
 at last, behind the foot of a stool, I perceived and 
 laid hold of a large and dazzling- one, with which I 
 thought instantly to fly away to my mate ; my luck 
 drew forth the general resentment ; — I was driven away 
 like a mouse, or like a rat ; I dropped the crumb in 
 my alarm, and it was immediately picked up and 
 swallowed by the most successful of the two struggling 
 infants; while the elder, snatching up a lump of ice 
 and snow, threw it after me as I escaped : for so barba- 
 rous can sometimes be the hand of misery 1 The 
 sharp-edged and snowy ice-ball struck the tall shoot of 
 a brier in the hedge, and knocked the snow, in repeated 
 flakes, from its rocking stem and spray ; but I joined my 
 mate in safety, though without a morsel for her mouth I 
 Still in search of our morning^s meal, we hastened 
 forward, to where the sound of a bill-hook, and the 
 voice of a wood-cutter, singing at his work, allured us 
 witli the hope, that a few earwigs, and centipedes, 
 and millepedes might be found, dislodged from their 
 wintering-places, among the shreds of bark, and broken 
 branches, and dry leaves, which were doubtless scat- 
 tered around him, and beneath his feet. Winging 
 our way across several wild and solitary fields, and 
 only stopping occasionally at the hedge-rows in our 
 progress, we reached a little enclosure, in the midst of 
 a wood ; and saw, as we expected, the industrious 
 tenant, busy in tying and trimming faggots and bavins, 
 to carry to his customers in the adjacent town. Here, 
 then, we made the acquisition of a small share of 
 food ; nay, even more than we had reckoned upon. 
 The insects that we could discover were not many ; 
 and, besides that (especially at first) we approached 
 the faggot-maker and his faggots with much caution, 
 
344 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and therefore obtained our meal but slowly; other 
 birds had already carried away a part of what was to 
 be had. But, to compensate for all this, even the poor 
 labourer was charitable to us. He ate his bread and 
 cheese while he bound his faggots ; and, not only a 
 crumb or two fell unavoidably to the ground, but he 
 purposely threw many in our way. While, however, 
 we were still with him, the early sun descended in the 
 wintry sky. Our benefactor retired homeward from 
 his task ; and we, partly satisfied with food, and partly 
 oppressed with sleep, and with the chilly atmosphere, 
 betook ourselves to shelter and sleep, in the crevice of 
 a wood-stack. 
 
 The morning after, to our disappointment, the wood- 
 cutter did not return to his faggots. His day was dis- 
 posed of in selling his store in hand, and not in 
 increasing its quantity ; and we were left to seek other 
 chances of support. We foraged about the stack, and 
 through the wood, before we quitted either ; and then 
 tried the open country, for our further help. The open 
 country, however, yielded us little. All was white and 
 frozen along its undulating surface, and biting winds 
 raged at will along its naked ridges ; but, while we 
 yet despaired, or nearly so, of our humble provision 
 for the day, suddenly, to the revival of our confidence, 
 we saw, from amid the tall trees and underwood that 
 clothed a rising bank, of a southern exposure, a 
 wreath of smoke ascending, and soon after heard the 
 voices of women and children ! We hastened to the 
 spot, and saw a Gipsy tent, in the front of which was 
 the fire, where an aged woman was cooking, in the iron 
 pot suspended from three poles; while two or three 
 younger ones, and four or five children, were gathering 
 sticks upon the bank, and feeding the fire as they 
 
ITS ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 345 
 
 brought them. Within the tent, and even upon the snow 
 without, two or three men and lads lay sleeping, and 
 awaiting the dinner that was cooking. Here was a 
 chance of food for us, but one of which we could avail 
 ourselves only with the greatest circumspection ! These 
 wild people were so nearly upon a level with ourselves; 
 they took the risks of a wandering life, and of an 
 uncertain supply of sustenance, so much in our own 
 manner, and ate, so much as we did, of every thing 
 that came in their way; that we feared, with sufficient 
 reason, lest, while we should be picking up the waste 
 from even a Gipsy's meal, a stone, or springe, or noose, 
 thrown or contrived by one of the sure-handed and 
 lynx-eyed party, might make us prisoners, and throw 
 us, an instant after, into the three-legged kettle, to boil 
 with twenty other ingredients of the savoury soup! 
 We kept, therefore, for some time, at a considerable 
 distance, and out of sight; only alighting for an 
 instant, and then disappearing, where the girls and 
 children shook the bushes, or tore away the palings, 
 in the course of their depredations, or where their feet 
 disturbed the snow, and exposed the buried turf; or 
 we followed one of the donkeys, and her foal, which, in 
 browning upon the furze, and withered fern, sometimes 
 equally served us, by a removal of the snow, and the 
 discovery of something that to us was eatable. We 
 were not wholly unobserved, in the mean time, by 
 some of the Gipsy party, who did not omit to throw 
 us crumbs, calling us by familiar and friendly names, 
 and saying, " Here are wanderers as poor and as 
 independent as ourselves I" We took their bounty 
 with a caution which was perhaps needless, and an 
 ungrateful return, even, for the gift ; but we could not 
 divest ourselves of the terror of a possible mischance, nor 
 
 q3 
 
346 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 of the uncomfortable feelings implanted in our minds 
 by the bubbling of the kettle over the fire ; and by the 
 tail-feathers, and blood, and bowels of a slaughtered 
 turkey, which lay at a little distance from it, upon the 
 snow. But the Gipsies dispatched their dinner, and 
 then struck their tent, saying that it would be all 
 they could do to keep their appointment with their 
 friends, at three miles distance, before sunset; and 
 leaving us, to our great joy, the embers of their fire, to 
 warm, for a while, the earth and air around us ; as w ell 
 as the smaller fragments of their meal, upon which to 
 make our supper. We found a lodging for the night, 
 in the hollow of an ancient tree ; but did not settle our- 
 selves to sleep, till we were placed where no polecat 
 nor weazel could be likely to reach us. 
 
 Though we had been far from clearing away, the 
 night before, all the particles that were eatable, among 
 the litter left by the Gipsies, yet in the morning that 
 performance was fully accomplished to our hands; so 
 many, and so hungry were those prowlers of the desert 
 that were as vigilant and more early than ourselves, 
 or that had even employed the season of darkness for 
 their search. Scarcely a mouthful apiece remained to 
 reward our utmost scrutiny; and the world before us, 
 as on the day preceding, was all that contained the 
 promise of subsistence. Alas ! that pressed by our 
 need, and not assisted, in our new adventure, by the 
 degree of experience which, it may be, had made us 
 more careful than was requisite, when in company 
 with the Gipsies; we brought upon ourselves, this third 
 day, the misfortune to which I have already alluded, 
 as springing out of the solitude at the Cottage ; and of 
 which the remembrance and the grief are to remain 
 throughout the sequel of my story ! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 347 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 Go not near Avaro's door !■ — 
 Once witbin his iron hall, 
 "Woful end shall thee befall : 
 Savage ! he would soon divest 
 Of its rosy plumes thy breast ; 
 Then, with solitary joy, 
 Eat thee (bones and all) my boy. 
 
 LANGHORNE. 
 
 We turned our wings, the succeeding day, toward our 
 well-known and beloved village, hoping to find again 
 the relief which we had so long, and so regularly 
 obtained at Burford Cottage; or, even if that were 
 wanting, to receive timely aid at ]Mr. Gubbins's, or at 
 Farmer i\Iowbray*s, or at some happy dwelling of 
 their neighbours. But, to arrive in those sacred 
 haunts, we had now two or three miles of country to 
 cross over ; a wide common, and a wood, and two or 
 three long lanes, and several fields, and a bleak, shel- 
 terless piece of road, along the north side of a hill. 
 
 We pursued the first part of our journey with all 
 the speed that we were able ; for it offered nothing to 
 invite delay, and we thought only of the comforts 
 which we promised ourselves at its end. In reality, 
 we had accomplished, by noontide, all but half a mile 
 of the distance; and already the orchards and the 
 chimneys were in view, and we rejoiced in the expec- 
 tation of the kind welcomes that awaited us. 
 
 But, while we were thus short, by half a mile, of 
 our destined place of return, it happened that our route 
 
348 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 led us along the back of a barn, where, in calm seclu- 
 sion from the north-easterly wind, a sight presented 
 itself, very unexpected at the time, and very woeful, as 
 its recollection has ever since appeared to me ! Here 
 were two or three human figures, at that season so 
 peculiarly endeared to our eyes; and these figures 
 were stretched at their ease upon the ground, and nei- 
 ther singing nor working, but as it seemed to us, en- 
 gaged only in the most benevolent of undertakings; 
 having left their comfortable homes, and blazing fire-- 
 sides, and placed themselves thus, in the midst of a 
 solitude of snow, solely to spread, and to wait upon, a 
 table for the birds of heaven ! These figures were not 
 figures of Gipsies ; here were no tent nor kettle ; no 
 discoloured snow, red with the blood of slaughtered 
 poultry ; nor even a fire at which to warm the fingers 
 of these zealots in the cause of humanity, as we con- 
 cluded them to be, who had taken the pitiless field, 
 only to cover it with viands for little starvelings like 
 ourselves ! At a short distance from those persons, 
 thus judged of in the most favourable manner by our 
 undiscerning apprehensions, there lay scattered upon 
 the snow a largess of seeds, and of crumbs of bread and 
 cheese, sufficient for the Christmas-dinner of whole 
 flocks of sparrows, bull and chaffinches ; and abundance 
 still to spare, for the soft bills of a few Red-breasts ! 
 We eyed the treasure, it must be allowed, with eager- 
 ness ; but yet not without care and scruple. We won- 
 dered at its exposure; and our wonder, at the begin- 
 ning, had some alliance with suspicion. We alighted 
 upon the roof of the barn, and took time for consider- 
 ation. We looked downward, and in advance, and to 
 the right and left, and observed all that went forward. 
 When the sight first presented itself to us, a few spar- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 349 
 
 rows were already making- free with the good things 
 put into their way; and coming and going, feeding 
 and retiring, selecting and satisfying themselves, just 
 according to their fancy ; the human attendants upon 
 the feast seeming to desire nothing but the pleasure, 
 and fulness, and entire gratification of the guests. By 
 degrees, the company increased ; there were sparrows 
 out of number, and all other birds in multiform variety. 
 The temptation was too strong; to enjoy was to obey. 
 We yielded to the obvious invitation. Our hunger, too, 
 was urgent, and the meat excellent. We went and 
 returned. We mingled, at leng-th, with a crowd of par- 
 takers of the feast ; and, at the next instant, the upper 
 half of a net, of which the lower (unregarded or uncom- 
 prehended as it had been by us), lay over the snow, 
 and left the food only between its meshes ; — the upper 
 half of a net w^as whisked over our heads ; and, through 
 the most barefaced treachery, every guest became a 
 prisoner ! 
 
 The plot had no sooner thus far succeeded, and 
 almost before the astounded captives had begun to 
 flutter their wings, and thrust forth their heads and feet, 
 in vain exertion to escape, than up started, in their 
 real shape, and bent on their real office, the attendants 
 hitherto so respectful in the distance which they kept ; 
 so quiet, and so patient; and so pliant to all the hu- 
 mours of those that were to be their victims ! They 
 started up; they ran to the nets; they picked out the 
 little birds, as fishermen pick out the fish sticking to 
 the meshes by their gills; and they filled vile, long, 
 low, dark cages, with their prizes, through holes in the 
 tops of the cages, guarded by the legs of worsted stock- 
 i ngs ! When they had thus packed up their booty, and 
 when thev had folded up their nets, the bird-catchers 
 
350 BURFORD COTTAGE J AND 
 
 walked merrily from the ground ; leaped over the next 
 ditch; and, gaining the public road to our village, 
 proceeded straight in that direction. 
 
 Fluttering in that net, and now immured in one of 
 those darksome cages, had been, and was become, the 
 situation of my hapless mate and I ! The bird-catchers, 
 as they travelled, with their snares and their spoil upon 
 their backs, exulted in the success of their morning's 
 work ; reckoned up the number of their birds, and of the 
 pence they were likely to make by them ; and planned 
 the disposal of each, according to their kind. Their 
 aim was for the next public-house, where they pro- 
 mised themselves to drink, and to pick and roast the 
 sparrows, and to sell some of the song-birds to the 
 highest bidder. I found that they set but small value 
 upon myself, and less upon my mate; myself because 
 it was generally known that I could not live long in 
 a cage; and upon my mate, because she was dull' 
 coloured, and no songstress ! 
 
 I will not depress the spirits of my reader, nor run 
 the risk of wearing out his sympathies, by repeating, 
 in this place, any expression of my grief under misfor- 
 tune; nor by any attempt to describe my redoubled 
 sorrows during the passing of these melancholy mo- 
 ments. My mate was in the same cage with me, but 
 at the opposite end ; and while I, by my strength and 
 good fortune, had secured a place at the wires in the 
 front, and was therefore in the enjoyment of light and 
 air ; she, through feebleness, or through ill fortune, was 
 squeezed into a corner at the back of the cage, and 
 almost suffocated amid the multitude of her compa- 
 nions in suffering and apprehension. We exchanged 
 a short and mournful cry with each other, but this was 
 all! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 351 
 
 We had advanced, however, but a few steps, before, 
 as affecting myself alone, a marvellous change took 
 place. ]My deeply orange breast was glowing through 
 the wires of the cage, almost like a coal of fire, at the 
 back of the bird-catcher ; and shining the more brightly 
 because of the whiteness of the road and hedges, the 
 grayness of the sky, and the cerulean blue, and gentle 
 yellow, of a titmouse upon one side of me, and the black 
 and gray, and very different red of a bullfinch, upon 
 the other. A little behind us came two fair and rosy 
 boys, smartly dressed, in brown cloaks, and with rich 
 furs upon their caps and collars. In their hands they 
 had each a pair of skates. They talked of nothing 
 but of the strength of the ice, and of the ponds where 
 the ice was the strongest, and the most clear from 
 snow; but, in the course of their speech, they agreed 
 that the best ice they had met with that morning was 
 upon the pond close to " poor Ralph's hovel;" only 
 they had left it almost as soon as they had found it, 
 that they might make haste home, to tell how sick and 
 miserable they had seen the lame mole-catcher, and 
 his wife and children ; and that little Sarah would have 
 been frozen to death in the night, or buried during 
 the snow-storm, if she had not been carried home by 
 the Gipsies, when she was sent up the long lane, to 
 give the news to the people of the village, of the depth 
 of their piteous condition, and of how neither father nor 
 mother were able to rise from their bed : for, as she 
 went, the cold made her move slowly, and then her 
 feet grew so cold that she could not move at all ; and 
 then the snow came on, and she fell, from want of 
 seeing where she stepped ; and there she lay in the 
 snow-, when the Gipsies came by, and knew her, and 
 lifted her into their arms, and spoke kindly to her, and 
 brouo-ht her back to her sad home. It was not long 
 
352 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 before I understood, that the hovel which the ruddy 
 boys called " poor Ralph's," was that from which I 
 had been so violently driven away, and of the penury 
 in which I had been so close a witness; and I now 
 heard from its young visitors, that during the damp 
 weather before the frost, both father and mother, as 
 well as one of the children, had been ill with scarlet- 
 fever; and that they were left so weak, that even at 
 their short distance from the village, and from any 
 neighbour, it was hardly possible for them to make 
 their story known. I now recollected, too, that this 
 " Ralph" was no other than the rheumatical neighbour, 
 the meeting with whom Mr. Gubbins would so willingly 
 have dispensed with, when upon his philosophical jour- 
 ney to Cobbler Dykes's; and who, to my no small, 
 though momentary resentment, had described Mr. Gub- 
 bins and his friend as what he called "two comical 
 rogues !" But, what was of still livelier interest to 
 myself, and what I did not discover without violent 
 emotion, was this, that beneath the cloak, and cap, 
 and furs, of one of the boys, was concealed my old and 
 good friend Richard ; as, beneath those of the other, 
 was a companion whom, upon their return to the Cot- 
 tage, the day before, Mr. and Mrs. Paulett had brought 
 with them from the house where they had spent the 
 night of the Epiphany, or what the French call the 
 Fete des Rois ! 
 
 " Oh, look at those birds," cried Richard's compa- 
 nion, as both, following the bird-catchers along the 
 middle of the road, came within a kw feet of the cage 
 which contained myself and my mate: "see, they 
 have just been caught, and I dare say that it was cold 
 and hunger that made them to be taken?" 
 
 " Why, George I" returned Richard, almost while his 
 friend was speaking, " I do believe that there is our 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 353 
 
 Robin-red-hreast, that I told you would come this 
 morning to breakfast with us, and that Emily cried t'"or 
 when breakfast was over without him, and said that 
 she was sure he had died of famine while we were s^one, 
 because we had been so cruel as not to leave bread 
 tor him, and Bernard never thought to feed him at the 
 windows I 'I shall never like twelfth-cake again,' said 
 she ; ' for it was because that I was eating twelfth-cake, 
 that Robin was left in the snow without a morsel of 
 bread!"' 
 
 " Don't be foolish, Richard I" interrupted George ; 
 " how is it possible that you should know one Robin 
 from another!^" 
 
 •'•' Oh," said Richard, " he has not visited us so 
 often, but that I know his looks; and I think that I 
 can see, at this moment, that he knows me, as well as 
 I know him, though he has not a leather collar on, 
 as he had when he went into Mr. Gubbins's decoy- 
 cage ; and besides, here is a Robin, and ours did not 
 come to the window this morning, and that is some 
 proof, at any rate ; and besides all that, it is a Robin, 
 whether he is ours or not; and so I must have him 
 out of that cage, and set him at liberty, be he what 
 Robin he may !" 
 
 " I wish we could set all the birds in that cacre at 
 liberty," answered George ; " but you know we have 
 no money left, and these men won't part with their 
 birds unless we give them money." 
 
 Richard had opened, by this time, a negotiation 
 with the bird-catchers. He ventured, at tirst, to talk 
 as largely as his companion, and asked what they 
 would have to open the cage doors!' The men, encou- 
 raged by such magnificence of idea, and by the wealthy 
 appearance of the boys, boldly answered, that a golden 
 
354 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 sovereign would be too little; but that, considering 
 they were young gentlemen, and that they should be 
 particularly happy in obliging them, as well as in see- 
 ing all the poor birds flying in the air; they would 
 not mind giving up three times that sum, which they 
 were honestly worth, and contenting themselves with 
 a single sovereign, down upon the nail. But neither 
 Richard nor George, nor both together, had any such 
 sum in their possession ; and therefore the scheme of 
 releasing the whole of the birds was given up in a 
 moment. My heart died at the disappointment ! 
 
 '* But what will you take for only that Robin-red- 
 breast," said Richard, anxiously, in the same breath? 
 
 Here the men consulted with each other before they 
 returned an answer : " Bob would fetch us twopence, 
 anyhow," muttered, at length, the chief manager to 
 his confederates; "but as he's a gentleman, and as 
 you heard him say he ' must have Bob,' why, just ask 
 him half a crown." 
 
 " I would give you half a cl'own, with all my heart, 
 if I had it," said Richard ; " but (telling every thing 
 openly), though I had one just now, I have only a 
 shilling left. We had each of us a half-crown in our 
 pockets when we came out this morning; but, where 
 we went a skating, we found one of our poor people, 
 and his wife and children, all sick and starving; so 
 we gave them what money we had, except that I kept 
 back a shilling, which I should have given them too, 
 only that I wanted it to pay the blacksmith that 
 mended my skates, and that has hurt his hand, and 
 can't work. But I will give you that shilling for the 
 Robin, and get the money for the blacksmith by 
 and by." 
 
 " The Lord have mercy upon you, young gentleman," 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. t500 
 
 cried the bird-catcher ; " part with Bob for a shilling ! 
 Oh no ; you are a nice kindhearted young gentleman, 
 and so you are, both of you ; but, you see, poor bird- 
 catchers must live, as well as other people. We can't 
 part with Bob for less than half a crown ; and we 
 would not have asked you so little, only that we saw 
 what nice charitable young gentlemen you were, and 
 that you had taken a fancy to Bob, somehow ; and that 
 we should like to see the poor bird at liberty again, just 
 as much as you !" 
 
 Richard, encouraged by George, who whispered him, 
 apart, that the men would have thought threepence a 
 capital price, from any body but themselves ; — Richard 
 made new^ attempts to get his shilling taken for my 
 release ; but '' Xo, no/' was all the answer he could 
 get, the men, in the meantime, chuckling with the 
 thought, that they had got the shilling safe, and could 
 have it when they pleased. But Richard, taking 
 for earnest all their denials, shrunk abashed at the 
 lowness of his pocket, and followed the bird-merchants, 
 for many steps, in sorrowful despair; while I, who 
 had listened in vain, to hear of the ransom of my 
 mate as well as myself, knew not whether to grieve or 
 rejoice at the failure of a bargain which had seemed to 
 ensure our separation ! 
 
 Richard and his friend now followed us, with wistful 
 looks at me and my cage, sometimes stopping a little 
 behind, to talk apart with each other; and, as I thought, 
 discussing whether or not to propose to the bird- 
 catchers to accompany them to the village, or by what 
 other plan to procure my release upon their own 
 terms. But, presently, we reached a spot where the 
 road divided into two branches, of which only one 
 led to the village, and the other to a more distant 
 
356 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and populous neighbourhood ; and, here, my captors 
 resolved to make a last effort to obtain the half- 
 crown, and, failing in this, to make a virtue of con- 
 tenting themselves with the shilling which George 
 always insisted to Richard was enough, and would 
 finally be taken. For this purpose, they followed the 
 second of the two roads, first wishing the boys a good 
 day, and making professions of regret, that it had not 
 been possible to deal with them for the release of 
 " poor Bob !" 
 
 The boys stopped, in confusion, at this decided pro- 
 ceeding of the bird-catchers, exchanging a few anxious 
 words together, as to the plan which they were now to 
 adopt in my behalf; for, as to leaving me in the hands 
 in which they had found me, that, as I had afterward 
 good reason to be convinced, was never, for a mo- 
 ment, in their contemplation. While they stood, con- 
 sulting, however, but for an instant or two (their eyes 
 strained after the backs of the bird-catchers), the latter 
 suddenly turned themselves round, exclaiming, in a 
 tone of affected kindness and humanity, " Come, young 
 gentleman, we must take your money ! It is hard for 
 poor men to make so little of their day's work ; but 
 we see you are gentlemen, and that you have taken a 
 fancy to poor Bob ; and we should be sorry, for the 
 bird's sake, that you did not have him ; and we know 
 that gentlemen like you would give us more if you 
 happened to have it about you ; and we dare say that 
 we shall meet you again, and that you will make it 
 up to us another time!" — George was pleased, and 
 Richard was overjoyed, at this conclusion of the adven- 
 ture. 1 was speedily taken out of the cage, and, with 
 full precaution as to air, put into Richard's pocket- 
 handkerchief, in which he undertook to carry me in the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 357 
 
 same manner as Mr. Gubbins to curious Cobbler 
 Dykes's. For me, my own release was transport ; but 
 yet an a^•ony oppressed me at the same moment, when 
 I found that nothing was said or done to make my 
 mate the sharer of my good fortune ; and when I felt 
 that I had no means of communicating to my bene- 
 factors the affliction which was still upon me, and 
 which I knew that it needed but a word to induce them 
 to remove ! I was carried along the road to the Cottage, 
 while the bird-catchers, with my mate, took the other 
 direction; and 1 had nothing to lighten the burden of 
 the separation, except the dream (perhaps the vainest 
 of dreams) in which I eagerly indulged, that some 
 accident, as little to be reckoned upon as that which 
 had befriended myself, would befriend her also; that 
 she, like me, w ould be delivered, by kind hands, from 
 the frio^htful cao^e w hich had contained us both ; that 
 both would taste agfain the freedom of the woods and 
 skies; and that we should meet, ere long, at some 
 accustomed haunt! 
 
 I had no doubt of my own release from the hand- 
 kerchief of Richard, and from all restraint upon my 
 liberty, as sure sequels to my rescue from the bird- 
 catchers. Indeed, Richard, as he carried me forward, 
 explained to George that this was his full intention; 
 but that, before setting me free, he was desirous of the 
 pleasure of displaying me at home, and of giving, to 
 his sister, and to all the family, that of seeinjj their lost 
 Robin-red-breast (for such he made himself sure I was) 
 once more alive and well, after the neglect which had 
 proved his misfortune; and also of seeing him fly 
 from their own windows, to return, as he hoped, again 
 and again, as formerly, to receive their daily crumbs, 
 and repay them, morning and evening, with his song! 
 
358 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
 
 It droppetli as the gentle dew from heaven 
 
 Upon the place beneath ! shakspearr. 
 
 Richard and George were too delighted with their 
 success, and too impatient to make it known, and to 
 show its fruit, not to travel with quick steps through 
 the remainder of their way. We were soon at the 
 gate, and soon in the hall of Burford Cottage; and 
 soon was the news of Robin-red-breast*s discovery, 
 disaster, and deliverance, the talk of all the house, 
 even from the parlour to the kitchen. With rapture 
 to Emily, and with high satisfaction to Mr. and 
 Mrs, Paulett, the handkerchief was opened, at the 
 bottom of the purse-like form in which it had been 
 held, I lay ; and where, when it was doubled under 
 me, as a sort of bedding, upon the table, I continued 
 to lie, panting, half stifled, half alarmed, half rejoic- 
 ing, half desponding. The children were eager to 
 gaze upon me closely, till Mrs. Paulett had warned 
 them, that by so doing, they robbed me of free air, 
 and might, perhaps, frighten and otherwise distress 
 me ; the mention of which evils at once altered their 
 inclinations, so that leaving me upon the handker- 
 chief which supported me upon the table, and from 
 which, as yet, I showed no disposition to rise ; they 
 withdrew to their chairs, content only to watch me 
 with kindly looks, and to derive, from every part of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 359 
 
 my appearance, and from my slightest movements, 
 the food for some tender and benignant sentiment, in 
 the expression of which they were equally joined and 
 encouraged, both by their papa and mamma. 
 
 But the wonder of my recovery and presence having 
 at length, in some small degree, subsided, Richard 
 and George were enabled to recall the earlier part of 
 their morning's pilgrimage of humanity ; and their 
 solicitude concerning which had been so strong upon 
 their minds, and was impelling so rapidly their feet, 
 when they fell in with me, and with them of the nets 
 a,nd cages ! They remembered the hovel of poor Ralph, 
 the mole-catcher, and all the famine and sickness they 
 had found in it; and related what money they had 
 given, and what hopes of further aid they had held 
 out. At the mournful tale, Mr. and Mrs. Paulett im- 
 mediately bestirred themselves for the sufferers; and 
 Bernard, w^hom they sent to apprize the parish-officers 
 of the distressful case, was also loaded with a basket 
 of provisions and other necessaries, to carry forward, 
 without delay, to the sick and sorrowing habitation. 
 
 "My dear children," said Mr. Paulett, after Bernard 
 had received his orders, and had been dispatched ; 
 *' you have performed a noble morning's work ; you 
 have done your duty ; and I am certain that you feel, 
 from what you have done, that content and cheerful- 
 ness of heart which is the first and sure reward of duty 
 listened to and obeyed. Where you found misfortune 
 you have had the will to relieve it ; and, what is more 
 happy, though not more sanctifying, you have had 
 the means. When I picture to myself the figures of 
 two playful boys, emptying their pockets to help the 
 miserable, and hastening from their amusements to 
 raise the cry of distress for their further succour ; and 
 when, upon their road from one act of charity, and 
 
360 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 even while engaged in its completion, I see them stop 
 to set free a little bird from its thraldom ; I could fancy 
 them two ministering angels, traversing the neighbour- 
 hood to discover and soothe affliction ; or two beams 
 of light, darted from the heavens, to cheer the walls 
 and the eyes of the unhappy. And be satisfied, that 
 in sustaining parts so bright, and so exalted, you 
 simply do your duty; or, that the parts, bright and 
 exalted as they are, are not a particle more glorious, or 
 more dignified, than you were born to act up to through 
 life. The earth has too many afflictions, and too much 
 woe and darkness, not to need to be pervaded for its 
 support and illumination ; and as it is in the simple 
 order of nature that the sun should afford the last ; so 
 is it in the same simple order of nature, that all crea- 
 tures, one to another, should afford the first. It is the 
 appointed medium of adjustment. For this was pity 
 planted in the heart, and made so powerful a feeling ; 
 and, if we, of the human race, are preeminently sus- 
 ceptible of its influence, and preeminently qualified to 
 give it effect, it only follows, that we are preeminently 
 bound to yield to the one, and to perform the other. 
 The duty is needed; its exercise belongs to the eco- 
 nomy of nature ; it is one of the compensations and 
 provisions for evils and deficiencies which the scheme 
 of creation contemplates beforehand ; and to our per- 
 formance it is entrusted : for, of this, our powers are the 
 proof: * Fine spirits,^ says the poet, 
 
 ' are not finelj touched 
 
 Bat to fine issaes ;' — 
 
 and Nature never bestows them, 
 
 — ' but straight determines to herself 
 Their glory and their use.' 
 
 Duty and power are literally the same words ; and the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 361 
 
 moral is, that there can be no limit to our duty to do 
 right, except the limit of our power. Some persons " 
 continued ^h. Paulett, " have gone so far as to teach, 
 that suffering exists upon the earth only as an occasion 
 for exercising the duties of humanity, and as a means 
 of bringing down upon those who perform them the 
 reward of the performance. But I, who stop short of 
 this, will at least advance, that humanity exists upon 
 the earth as a provision, and a store in reserve, for the 
 help of the unfortunate. 
 
 " We live," added the parental instructor, " in times 
 when much is said about justice; but let it be your 
 part, never to forget benevolence ! We live when 
 many tongues are talking loudly of rights ; but do 
 you remember generosity ; and, while so many speak 
 of dues, do you always remember bounty: * Bounti- 
 fulness,' says the Preacher, ' is a most beautiful gar- 
 den; and mercy endureth for ever.^ It would be a 
 dream to imagine, that under any possible order of 
 human things, the earth could be freed either from 
 poverty or from misfortune ; and melancholy would be 
 the condition of earth, if those calamities were met only 
 by rights and dues; and hard and often hopeless the 
 condition of the unfortunate, if they received only 
 what w^ould be commonly called justice. But the 
 world has a brighter and more expanded law ; the 
 law of love; the duty, the impulse of compassion; 
 and it is this, and this only, which, by your hands, 
 has warmed the hovel of lame Ralph, and cut the 
 trammels of poor Robin! If rights, and dues, and 
 ordinary justice, were all that the unhappy had to 
 appeal to, why should you have interfered for them? 
 What did you owe to either? And it might have 
 been said of you, as of the stage-player, — ' What's 
 
 R 
 
362 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, that he should weep 
 for her?' But you are bound by a nobler and a higher 
 law ; you live under a more imperious and yet softer 
 obligation. Nature forces you to 'weep' for others, 
 and then to dry up others' tears, in order that you may 
 dry your own ! She ruffles the bosoms of the pitiful, at 
 the same time with those of the afflicted; so that the 
 first can become calm again, only by the calming of 
 the second. 
 
 " And observe how much this law unites mankind, 
 and unites all creatures, by giving each a common 
 interest in the other! If there were no law of com- 
 passion ; and if all men, and every creature stood only 
 upon the stricter rights ; how solitary, how estranged, 
 and how gloomily self-dependent would they walk, in 
 their independence upon each other ! But it is because 
 all want happiness, and because all can give it, that 
 a universal kindred is established ; that the benefactor 
 comes to love the unhappy whom he delivers from 
 his sorrows; and the unhappy to love his deliverer 
 and consoler. The unhappy are to their benefactors 
 the sources of the just and pleasurable pride of well- 
 doing ; and the benefactors to the unhappy, the authors 
 of that delightful sentiment of the heart, the admira- 
 tion of virtue : an admiration, in their case, made so 
 much the in tenser and more intimate and infelt, as it 
 is virtue exercised in their own behalf! 
 
 " Let me commend you, likewise (as you already 
 know I am well disposed), almost, if not entirely, 
 in an equal degree, for your services to this poor bird 
 upon the one hand, and to the poor family in the 
 hovel upon the other ! To both you have been moved 
 by the same sentiment of love or concern for the ob- 
 jects, and of compassion for their misfortunes; and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 363 
 
 thoug-h there are doubtless other and strong grounds 
 of preference for the family before the bird, the senti- 
 ments themselves are the same, and know no distinc- 
 tion of object. Xature, for the help of her creatures, 
 has ordained but a single law, and it is this; that 
 whatever is capable of feeling pain, is worthy of being 
 relieved from it. Very truly have it we, from that 
 august moralist, as well as mighty dramatist, whose 
 works and whose memory are among the most beauti- 
 ful as well as amazing monuments of human splen- 
 dour, that ' the cjuality of mercy is not strained' It 
 is not filtered, and then directed to this or that peculiar 
 thing or place; but it falls universally upon all things 
 and places, great and little, and (as we ourselves might 
 more narrowly deem them), the worthy and the un- 
 worthy : 
 
 ' It droppeth as the gentle dew from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath ;' 
 
 and again, with that justness and grandeur of senti- 
 ment which I have just now intended to attribute to 
 the immortal writer, he has elsewhere followed up the 
 same magnificent morality, by making the suscepti- 
 bility of pain the all-sufficient plea for the exercise of 
 Hiercy ! With him, and in his eye of love and mercy, 
 the giant and the beetle are upon one level at the 
 feet of gentleness, conclusively and solely because they 
 are upon one level as to the suffering of pain: 
 
 ' The poor beetle, that -we tread upon, 
 
 Id corporal sufferance feels a pang as great 
 As when a giant dies.' 
 
 " But I insist," proceeded Mr. Paulett, " upon this 
 view of my subject, chiefly because it is too much the 
 practice with our modern teachers of humanity to ani- 
 
 R 2 
 
364 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 mals, to speak in a qualified and timid manner concern- 
 ing the duty, such as never was known nor thought of 
 in ancient times, nor ever dictated or permitted by the 
 law of nature ; a qualification and timidity, however, 
 which is entirely of a piece with that general degradation 
 of the animal w^orld by the teaching of which we are 
 uniformly contrasted with that same antiquity. With 
 us, the animals live but for our use, and when we 
 cannot use them, are useless and without account. 
 With us, the human species is every thing to God, as 
 well as every thing in nature ; and the inferior species 
 nothing. But I have already shown you some few 
 examples of the antique respect for those species; 
 and, if you do but look into your Bible, you will find 
 many more. With us, a provision for man is the im- 
 mediate care of heaven ; but the inferior animals are 
 judged unworthy of such divine regard, and left to 
 find their living as they can. With your Bible, in the 
 meantime, God provides for the ' young ravens, when 
 they cry for lack of meat ;' and listens, with the same 
 compassion and effect, to the hungry roaring of the 
 ' lions.' With us, animals are created only to serve 
 our purposes ; and the importance of the vast levia- 
 than is at once summed up, when we have weighed 
 and counted the tons of bone, and oil, and spermaceti 
 which its slaughtered body has afforded us ! For these 
 commodities we are dutifully thankful ; from their ex- 
 istence we infer the motive for creating the leviathan ; 
 between God and man we see every thing as we should 
 do; but, as to any immediate relation between God 
 and leviathan, or as to any motive for the creation of 
 the latter, centering and ending in itself, and inde- 
 pendent of all connexion with mankind — it never 
 enters our heads ! With your Bible, in the meantime. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 365 
 
 God has made the leviathan — just ' to take his pas- 
 time' or, to ' play' in the ' wide sea* V 
 
 '' A striking example, however, of the contrasted 
 strength and weakness of the ancient and modern 
 lang'uatre in behalf of the inferior animals — or of that 
 watering doivn, if I may so call it, of ancient sentiment 
 and morality upon this subject, to suit the mawkish 
 ness, the pride, the cowardice, and the mincing of 
 modern notions, is within my immediate recollection, 
 and will both amply illustrate all I mean, and amply 
 justify all that I have said. A humane and pious poet 
 and divine among us, of the last age, ventures, in the 
 text of his poem, and while proposing to himself to 
 draw the character of an exemplary person, to write 
 the couplet which I quote : 
 
 * Een to brute beasts his righteous care extends ; 
 He feels their sufferings, and their wants befriends j' 
 
 and then, to defend himself with his reader, for making 
 so large a demand upon the latter's ideas of humanity, 
 cites, in a note, those words of the book of Proverbs, 
 of which he is anxious to show that he does no more 
 than put them into verse. 'E'en to brute beasts,' says, 
 then, the modern poet; but where is the ' even' of the 
 ancient moralist? No ! the latter says to us, and could 
 say to his countrymen and contemporaries, broadly, 
 boldly, and without a qualification, — ' The righteous 
 man regardeth the life of his beast.' There is no ' even/ 
 you perceive, in these latter words ; and though it is 
 very possible that the poet, by its introduction into 
 his lines, did not intend a weakening of the phrase, 
 yet this must be the effect, in the ears of most of those 
 
 * Psalm ciy. 
 
366 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 who hear it. In short, as I have formerly warned you 
 of the narrowness of the argument for humanity to 
 animals, upon the sole ground that it nurses or 
 preserves in us a humane disposition toward mankind 
 itself; so, I now further warn you of the blamable 
 timidity of the doctrine which requires us to be humane, 
 ' even to brute beasts,' instead of courageously and at 
 once demanding that we should be humane toward 
 every thing that lives." 
 
 " Papa,'^ said Richard (who for some time had been 
 evidently watching for the moment when he might ask 
 for explanations upon one or more points in reference to 
 which what he was hearing had perplexed his mind) ; 
 *' Papa, when I think of the wickedness of ill-treating 
 the inferior animals, and of the care of Nature for their 
 happiness, I sometimes fancy that it must be very 
 wrong in us to kill and eat them ; and besides, it seems 
 strange to me, that so many other animals should kill 
 and eat them, just as we do?" 
 
 " My dear Richard," replied Mr. Paulett, " though 
 you are a very little boy, you need not be ashamed of 
 finding difficulties in the right understanding of these 
 questions ; for very great men, and men in all ages 
 and circumstances, have frequently been perplexed by 
 the same considerations. Whole countries, for centu- 
 ries after centuries, have entertained such notions, and 
 have adopted practices accordingly ; and philosophers 
 have argued, and poets have sung, upon these very 
 subjects. Some have thought it wicked for men to 
 eat the flesh of animals ; some have thought the flesh- 
 eating animals to be themselves wicked ; and some, 
 discarding both of those fantastical ideas, have yet 
 been at a loss to reconcile the obvious intention of 
 Nature in these respects, with the mercy which we 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 367 
 
 vet acknowledofe to i'eio;n over all her works, and with 
 the care which, as you so properly say, she extends 
 to the happiness of her creatures. But, notwithstand- 
 ing the perplexities of little boys, and of great men, 
 and the notions which have sometimes obtained through 
 countries and ages, the sound and rational view of 
 the whole subject is very clear, and entirely consistent 
 with the ordinary practice of mankind, and with what 
 we observe in universal nature. 
 
 " Let us consider, first,'' said, then, Mr. Paulett, 
 " the general law of creation, that so many birds, 
 beasts, fishes, reptiles, and insects should subsist by 
 preying upon so many other insects, reptiles, fishes, 
 beasts, and birds; after which, we may turn with the 
 more advantage to the practice of mankind in particu- 
 lar, which lives, in this respect, like the other classes of 
 the whole animal world. Now, this law of nature, so 
 far from being an unmerciful law, and so far from its 
 promoting misery and suffering among the animal 
 races, is the most merciful, the most tender, and the 
 best defence of the inferior animals against suffering 
 and misery, which it would have been possible to 
 devise. If it was necessary and harmonious in nature, 
 that, unless their lives were terminated by a sudden 
 and violent death, their bodies, after a gradual growth, 
 should be subject to a gradual decay; and if, among 
 the inferior animals, that gradual decay would have 
 covered the earth, and filled the air and waters, with 
 pitiable sights, and suffering miserable creatures, in 
 what other way could the law of nature have so well 
 provided, at once the means of this sudden and violent 
 death, and the removal of the bodies of the dead ; 
 combining all this, too, with a plan for sustaining 
 other lives throuo:h the destruction of the first? In 
 
368 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 what other way could the inferior animals have been 
 made to die, either with so little suffering- to them- 
 selves, or so little inconvenience to their survivors ; 
 and, at the same time, with so much advantage to the 
 plan of nature in general, by the sustenance of so many 
 other animals? The flowers fade upon their stalks; 
 their colours change; their leaves shrink; and they 
 become manure for future flowers; but animal life 
 could not go out thus mildly. Even a swarm of flies 
 could not perish, and putrefy upon the surface, with- 
 out the production of somewhat of the seeds of pesti- 
 lence. Then, as to the sustenance of other animals, 
 we may observe, that in the ascending series, the lower 
 or the smaller (the feeders upon herbs, and juices, and 
 animalcules), commonly prepare, in their own bodies, 
 the food of the higher or the larger, both as to bulk 
 and as to quality ; just as, in human art, one artisan 
 prepares materials for other artisans to work upon. In 
 the economy of nature, every thing and every creature 
 performs its allotted part ; and all, while flourishing 
 or choosing for themselves, work out their share in the 
 grand design, and toil, although inconsciously, and 
 while they are and think themselves at play, for the 
 advancement of the general benefit. 
 
 " In this manner, then, we vindicate all the flesh- 
 eating animals whatever, and release them from the 
 fantastic charge of wickedness, by showing that what 
 they do is the very part assigned to them to perform 
 by the law of nature ; and let it be remembered that, 
 to its share in this general defence, the human race is 
 entitled with every other. We vindicate also, and at 
 the same time, this law of nature which they follow, by 
 showing, that so far from being cruel, it is at once wise 
 and merciful. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 369 
 
 '' But, if we thus show, that it is not wicked in the 
 inferior animals to kill and eat the other animals 
 which are their proper prey ; that they are guilty of 
 no cruelty in this killing and eating, and that Nature is 
 not cruel in having thus ordained their means of sus- 
 tenance ; Ave find also, in these very views, what cruelty 
 to the inferior animals really is, and wherein men are 
 in danger of becoming cruel to them, though neither 
 Nature authorizes the cruelty, nor do the beasts and 
 other animals of prey fall into it. It is not in putting 
 animals to death, nor in eating their flesh, that consists 
 the cruelty or wickedness ; but in ill-using them while 
 living; in omitting to help them when we have it in 
 our power ; — it is in these things that consist the 
 cruelty and wickedness, and of these the beasts of 
 prey are innocent, while men are often guilty. 
 
 "I might add, nevertheless," concluded Mr. Paulett, 
 smiling, " that this question of the innocence, or 
 wickedness of the inferior animals, in respect of their 
 feeding upon each other, and even upon the innocent 
 herbs and flowers, many whimsical notions have been 
 verv ofravelv entertained and asserted; some of which 
 furnish a few curious pages, in a volume now before 
 us, as presenting themselves even among the Indians 
 of America, and so far furnishing a new example of 
 Mr. Hartley's favourite truth, that there subsists, and 
 has always subsisted, a community of sentiment and 
 idea among ail mankind*. Virgil, like the Indians, 
 makes a complaint so very comprehensive, that as you 
 
 * See the fable of Mishaboo, or the Great Hare, and the Wicked 
 Animals, in the author's Indian, or Algonquin Fables, from the Woods 
 of North America; in the tenor of which, beside, there is a partial, 
 but remarkable coincidence with some philosophical opinions in Eu- 
 rope, recently started. 
 
 r3 
 
370 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 will see, in my translation, I am afraid it would take 
 in your Robin-red-breast, for his dining upon worms 
 and insects ! The Indians say that the maple-trees are 
 put to pain, by being wounded to drain their sap for 
 sugar. All things, says the poet, make prey upon 
 each other. In sum, the universal sin is eating : 
 
 * The deadly lioness the wolf devours; 
 
 The wolf the kid, the kid the buds and flowers !* " 
 
 Mr. Paulett here ended his explanations ; and Richard 
 declared himself now able to distinguish the killing of 
 animals, and eating their flesh, from all cruelty in be- 
 haviour toward them; and equally to reconcile the 
 practices, as well with the innocence of the men and 
 animals that perform them, with the wisdom, and 
 with the mercifulness of all the works of Nature. But, 
 during the time that thus went by, I had recovered, 
 to a certain degree, my composure and animal spirits, 
 and the free use of my legs and wings ; and, beside 
 that I was impatient to escape, I had also allowed 
 myself to think, that if once outside the windows, I 
 might be able to retrace, at a safe distance, the steps of 
 the bird-catchers; to watch their motions and their 
 deeds ; to acquaint myself with the fortunes of my 
 mate; and even to witness and exult in her deliver- 
 ance and escape, and return with her, before night- 
 fall, to the garden of our friends ! I flew, therefore, at 
 last, from the handkerchief and table, and dashed, and 
 pecked, and fluttered against the glass. My hint was 
 instantly taken; and, almost as instantly was ended 
 the short parley, as to whether it would be most for 
 my happiness, to keep me, or to let me go ? The win- 
 dow was opened to my wish, and I fled into the sky ! 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 371 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good ! MILTON. 
 
 '' Ah 1" said Mr. Paulett (referring to the contrast 
 which Mr. Hartley had drawn, in one of my late 
 chapters, between the imaginations of men, and the 
 works of Nature*); ''how deeply your observation 
 makes me feel the frequent aspects under which we 
 are tempted to cry out, with the great and enchanting 
 poet of the Seasons, 
 
 ' O Nature, all-sufficient, over all, 
 
 Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works!' 
 
 For, here, it is only to this knowledge we can look 
 for that purification of our taste, and that correction of 
 our judgment, which can free us from the domination 
 of such unnatural images as those to which you refer, 
 and enable us to put their proper value upon such 
 writers, and such imaginations, as violate the truth of 
 Nature, while they belie her mercy and her beauty, 
 by their hideous representations ! It is only through 
 being acquainted with the natural, that we can distin- 
 guish the unnatural, and throw the latter from before 
 our eyes!" 
 
 " And yet," answered INIr. Hartley, " we live in 
 days in which it is almost dangerous to speak of 
 
 * See above, page 289. 
 
372 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Nature, or in any manner use the term ! There are 
 those who seldom hear it without impatience. I hear 
 it from peoples' tongues, and I read it in new books. 
 The authors of an oracular book, published but a short 
 time since*, imputes it (I must think as hastily as un- 
 charitably) only to the ' shrunken faith' of our clerg-y, 
 that, they have grown apt to use the word Nature, or 
 Providence, or Heaven, instead of the word God ; and 
 they place under the same reproach, even the use of 
 the terms, ' the Deity,' and ' the Divinity !' " 
 
 " In plain English," said Mv. Paulett, " the com- 
 plaint to which you refer consists in this, that either 
 carelessly, or with design, speakers and waiters substi- 
 tute the name of Nature for the name of God ; and 
 to that complaint I shall venture to propose a brief 
 and limited reply." 
 
 "It will be a pleasure to the whole of us," observed 
 Mr. Hartley. 
 
 " If it should be simply said," pursued Mr. Paulett, 
 *' that either in philosophy, or in polite literature, we 
 frequently substitute the name of Nature for the 
 name of God, or the word Nature, for the tvord ' God/ I 
 apprehend that the apology, the explanation, and the 
 justification, is to be found in a feeling of reverence 
 for the name of God, rather than in any opposite 
 inducement. I could enlarge much upon the universal 
 feelings and practice of mankind, as to the direct em- 
 ployment of names, instead of that of substitutes, or 
 periphrases, under the sole aspect of reverence ; but I 
 will only add, that where the practice complained of is 
 only the substitution of the word Nature for the ivord 
 God, a true piety will commend, rather than condemn. 
 
 * Guesses at Truth. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 373 
 
 It is the same ^vith the icord Xatiire, as uith the icord 
 Heaven ; for the latter, like the former, is often used 
 as a substitute for the name of God ; and the ques- 
 tion, with me, is, whether an alteration in the practice 
 would constitute an improvement? Thomson, in his 
 episode of Celadon and Amelia, has the exclamation, 
 
 ' 3Ivsterious Heaven ! that moment to the ground, 
 "NVas struck the beauteous maid, a blackened corse;' 
 
 and, in the sea-song of the ' Storm,' we find the words, 
 ' Have mercv, Heaven ! 
 
 Only Heaven can save us now !' 
 
 Xow, in all such instances, by Heaven, is meant God ; 
 but would the change of the word be really an im- 
 provement? What, in short, would our critics have? 
 AVould they banish all religious sentiment, and all 
 reference to divine power, from polite letters; or, in 
 the forms of expression, for such uses, would they 
 have the name of God incessantly obtruded upon 
 our ears^ For my part, I am persuaded that religious 
 reverence, and a becoming awe, are the ruling motives 
 of the substitution; and that, influenced by that motive, 
 a substitution or periphrasis has ever been resorted 
 to, under a variety of circumstances, great and small, 
 by all generations of mankind. Many instances might 
 be recollected, in addition to the hasty ones I have 
 produced, too light, although not too innocent, too 
 amiable, nor too uninstructive, to justify the unveiled 
 and unceremonious introduction of the name of God. 
 A recent critic, complaining of a cruel historical un- 
 truth, invented in a work, indeed, of entire historical 
 untruth, — a work ' neither more nor less than pure 
 unminu'led fiction from first to last^ — ' notwithstand- 
 
374 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ing its solemn and almost sacred character/ — and 
 its bold assertion of historical veracity ; — complains 
 also, that the * Narrative' has ' religious and moral 
 sentiments, so lavishly, and sometimes so irreverently, 
 scattered over its pages*/ In truth, the too frequent 
 and familiar use of sacred names, and devout ex- 
 pressions, has always been attended with inconve- 
 nience; for which, as well as from less reasonable 
 causes, antiquity was often strict in the extreme, 
 in forbidding the use of the name of God ! Among 
 Christians, indeed (and this from the Middle Ages 
 downward), the use, with the most pious motives, was 
 long incessant ; and we owe to that very circumstance 
 much of the profaneness of language complained of in 
 the modern vulgar of all ranks. A noble writer, in 
 France f, ventures to charge the Crusaders (persons, 
 indeed, often sufficiently reprobate) with being ac- 
 customed to utter the most odious and wanton blas- 
 phemies; while it would be easy to show, that the 
 expressions referred to are actually of the most pious 
 description, and could have been made impious only 
 through their frequent and thence irreverent use 1" 
 
 " May we not add," said Mr. Hartley, " that the 
 argument is strongly capable of being turned against 
 the complainants? Does not the use of direct names 
 imply, in a variety of instances, an extreme fami- 
 liarity ; and is not an extreme, and even an ' indecent 
 familiarity,' with the divine name, and especially with 
 that of the ' second person of the Trinity,' a charge 
 frequently brought, and perhaps not without reason, 
 against persons of the very class which supplies com- 
 
 * Quarterly Review, No. cxvi.; Art. Sir Edward Seaward's 
 Narrative, &c. 
 
 t M. le Comte de Montlosier. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 375 
 
 plaints in the case; very hard things, upon this sub- 
 ject, being more particularly said of some of the hymns 
 of Dr. Watts ? The absolute prohibition to pronounce 
 the name of God has been a frequent institute of 
 nations, as in the well-known instance of the Hebrews ; 
 and the address, by title, or by description, to a power 
 unnamed, is often the most affecting, as well as the 
 most reverential, to the ear. There is something, I 
 think, singularly attractive in that address, in the 
 Psalms, to a nameless but described preserver, — * O 
 thou that hearest prayer !' " 
 
 " Our opinions are quite the same," rejoined Mr. 
 Paulett ; " but, now, if it is charged that we substitute 
 the idea of Xature for the idea of God, I deny the 
 accusation ; that is, I deny it in behalf of the general 
 feeling of mankind, without concerning myself about 
 particular men's notions or expressions. I have shown, 
 in the instances adduced, that under the name of Na- 
 TLRE, as under the name of Heaven, the idea is always 
 God." 
 
 " Surely so," said Mr. Hartley; '' but, just as you 
 anticipate, the charge is directly this, that we substitute 
 the idea of Nature for the idea of God ; while it is 
 your answer, that both under the name of God, and 
 under the name of Nature, there is but one, and but 
 one same, idea." 
 
 " Expressly," replied Mr. Paulett ; " and yet there 
 is excuse for the objectors here, considering the extra- 
 ordinary definitions of Nature which we occasionally 
 meet with, and in which Nature is made something 
 distinct from God. A remarkable one occurs among 
 the treatises published with so much pomp, circum- 
 stance, and implied authority, under the title of 
 ' Bridgewater Treatises.'—' Nature,' says the writer, 
 
376 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ' is not intelligence, nor the Deity ; but a delegated 
 power, under the laws of Necessity. She is obliged to 
 g-o on gradually, &c. ; she cannot produce, &c. ; but 
 must begin, &c.*^ Now, would the writer seriously 
 defend this language? Is it the transcript of his real 
 notions? How complete, and how unintelligible a 
 polytheism, has he not offered? Here are three powers; 
 that is, three deities; three gods; God, Nature, and 
 Necessity ; and, in the three, what share has God in 
 the creation ? Nature, he tells us, is not ' the Deity;' 
 that is. Nature is not God ; and besides this, has 
 Nature, in the definition given, any thing to do with 
 God, or God with Nature? * Nature,' the writer 
 tells us, is a power, that is, a Deity, a God ; and, 
 again, she is a delegated power; that is, a subordinate 
 divinity, an inferior deity, a subject god. But to whom 
 is this god Nature in subjection ; and v.'ho is it this 
 o-od Nature serves? Necessity! And what is the 
 part assigned to God, in this whole array of the three 
 gods? The text is silent! All that the writer affirms 
 is, that Universal Nature moves in precisely that con- 
 dition which Milton has made God indignantly repu- 
 diate, in reference to Adam and to Eve ; whom, as 
 God is made to say, 
 
 ' Made passive both, had served Necessity, 
 Not Me!' 
 
 The writer's Nature is ' a delegated power ;' — not 
 God, nor even the ' delegate' of God, but of Neces- 
 sity! His Nature is ' under laws,' — yet not the laws 
 of God, but of Necessity ! His God is not Neces- 
 sity, neither is his God Nature ; but Necessity 
 gives laws, and Nature serves Necessity; and what 
 
 * On the Mechanism of the Hand. By Sir Charles Bell. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 377 
 
 is left to God, either in station or in authority, is more 
 than the book informs us ! His Xatlre is not Intel- 
 ligence ; his Intelligence is not Deity; his Deity 
 therefore is not Intelligence ; — but whether Intelli- 
 gence resides with his Necessity; whether Intelli- 
 gence has any share or admission into the laws w^hich 
 Necessity deals to Nature; whether it is Neces- 
 sity alone, and neither God nor Nature, which is 
 intelligent ; or whether there is any Intelligence at 
 all; all this remains unstated I But we must do the 
 writer the justice, the whole time, of believing-, that 
 he only g;-rievously misrepresents his ideas ; and 
 that, in reality, he does not mean to separate, either 
 Intelligence, or God, or Nature, or Necessity! 
 His words can need but explanation, though I have 
 some fears that there lies at the bottom a favourite 
 error of the day, and one which we find blazoned and 
 insisted upon by the whole crowd of philosophers, 
 and of their living and applauding critics ; namely, 
 that which would confine God to all which concerns 
 the moral world ; and which, as if 
 
 * Afraid to trust the ruler with bis skies,' 
 
 elaborately shuts out divinity from things physical, or 
 things natural, as things natural or physical are too 
 commonly, because too narrowly, understood I It can 
 never have been the writer^s intention to say so ; but, 
 surely, the verbal meaning of his expressions is, not 
 only to deny that Nature is God, or God Nature ; 
 but to take Nature out of the hands of God, and 
 to place it or her* in those of a Power which he 
 
 * If there are readers so little acquainted with the language 
 and imaginative faculty of mankind, as to feel shy of the female per- 
 sonification of visible NATURE, let thera muse upon the personifica- 
 
378 BURFORD COTTAGE^ AND 
 
 creates, and calls Necessity, or Fate. But Pope, 
 before this Bridgewater Treatise, had bound 
 
 * Nature fast bj Fate ;' 
 
 only, he had made God the Binder ; so, that, if Fate 
 ruled Nature, at least God ruled Fate; and, thus, 
 God was ' all in all !' " 
 
 " We have here, indeed, a real unity," observed 
 Mr. Hartley. 
 
 *' The separation," added Mr. Paulett, " of Neces- 
 sity, or Fate, from God, — the creation of a Power 
 distinct from, and (shall I say?) superior to God — so 
 strangely placed before us in this Bridgewater Trea- 
 tise, harmonizes, to the letter, with the views vulgarly 
 taken of the old Paganism, but is at perfect warfare 
 with the Christian Trinitarian Unity. It accords, as 
 we have seen, with the language of Milton, an author 
 so learned, so enamoured, and so delightful, as to all 
 that savours of the poetry of Paganism ; but it is 
 because of the very distinction I am taking, that the 
 argument from which my passage was quoted, and 
 
 tion of Geology, in the pages of a little work, just published, from 
 the pen of Dr. Nares, Regius Professor of History in the Universitj 
 of Oxford ; the passage, in the mean time, containing an observation 
 so just, and of such a fitness to do service, amid the Geological intem- 
 perance of the day, that it will be doubly useful to quote it in this 
 place : 
 
 " Geology," sajs the reverend and learned author, " announces 
 great changes to have taken place in the vegetable and animal king- 
 doms; and would fain assign the exact epochs of such changes; but 
 in this surely she may be deceived." The personification of Geology 
 must be a very modern one. Geology being a science, " the verj 
 name of which (says the geological zealot. Professor Sedgwick) has 
 been but a few years engrafted on our language;" but the truth is, 
 that all men, ancient and modern, have personified almost every thing, 
 making it either male or female ; and hence the genders of our nouns, 
 or names of things, — masculine, feminine, and neuter. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 379 
 
 which Milton has dared to put into the lips of God, is, 
 in those lips, so little logical, and so little convincing, 
 as compared with the argument of Jupiter, in the 
 Odyssey, of which it is a copy, and also a misapplica- 
 tion ; that which was consistent with the character and 
 limited authority of the particular Jupiter of Homer, 
 being inconsistent with the omnipotence of God, as 
 conceived under our own theology/' 
 
 '•' Xo doubt," rejoined Mr. Hartley, '•' it is pitiable to 
 see, even in works of such modern date, and of such 
 distinguished general merit as this Treatise, language 
 thus crude, and thus tending, therefore, to put out at 
 once, the light of religion and of reason; but let us 
 reduce to words our own notions of the import of the 
 name of Xature." 
 
 "Xature," resumed Mr. Paulett, " is a term which, 
 after signifying the property, or quality, or power, or 
 habit, or inclination, of any thing or things, is next 
 employed to signify, first, the Works of God, and 
 secondly, God himself. I am afraid, that in the very 
 few words I can use to this purpose, I cannot so far 
 explain the subject as to avoid risk of misconception 
 and misrepresentation ; especially at a time when, as 
 the complaint is, it is so much the practice to talk of 
 God and Xatlre separately, and to make of them 
 two diverse gods or powers; a fear which makes me 
 chiefly inclined to state the fact, that the name, and 
 still more the idea of Xature, is thus, with the two 
 meanings, in actual use and entertainment; rather than 
 enter into explanations : and, even as to the fact only, it 
 will be best for me to say but little, especially as there 
 are volumes really to be said, and there is danger of mis- 
 leading if we say much, and yet do not say much more. 
 But Xature is, at once, the Creation and the Crea- 
 
380 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 TOR; or, it is this moment one, and at the next, the 
 other. We speak of both as persons ; and mankind (as in 
 the passage I have lately quoted) have very commonly 
 personified Nature, when considered as the Creation, 
 or as the Six Days' Works of Scripture, as a female 
 person. They have looked at the universe at large ; 
 they have surveyed the heaven and the earth ; they 
 have treated all as one collective object; they have 
 considered it as one substance, as one body ; they have 
 found it a visible body; they have called it therefore a 
 person: they have found the universe beautiful; they 
 have called it, therefore, a beautiful person ; and then, 
 because they have called it a beautiful person, for this, 
 as for other reasons, they have personijied it (that is, 
 they have painted it to their imagination, they have 
 spoken of it in their language) as a female pei'son — as 
 a ivoman. I have said that this female personification 
 has been common, but it has by no means been exclu- 
 sive. We often speak, for example, among ourselves of 
 Nature as a male person ; that is, when we identify 
 Nature with the Works of God, and the Works of 
 God with God ; as happens in Thomson's Hymn : 
 
 ' These, as they change, Almighty Father, these 
 Are but the varied GoD ;' 
 
 that is, the Works of God, or by another term, the 
 Works of Nature, under all the aspects of the varied 
 seasons, are but the varied works of the varied God." 
 
 " You speak, thus far," said Mr. Hartley, " of Na- 
 ture as the Works of God ; but you have promised 
 to show us that Nature is also put for God himself; 
 or, in other w^ords, that God and Nature are to be 
 considered as one ; or the two names as pertaining to 
 the same object; a truth which would explain how it 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 381 
 
 is that we sometimes talk of the Works of Nature, 
 and Nature's Works, when we mean God's Works, 
 and the Works of God ?'' 
 
 '' Nature,'' replied Mr. Paulett, " is either the 
 Thing produced, or the Power producing. If we 
 speak of the Power producing, we can ec[ually say 
 God or Nature; as we can also say, God, or Na- 
 ture, or Heaven. We say that Heaven gives all 
 things, that Nature gives all things, and that God 
 gives all things ; and our idea is always the same, and 
 we mean always the same Giver, how often soever we 
 may change the name. Nature, in short, is, upon 
 this occasion, God; and God, upon the same occa- 
 sion, is Nature. How, otherwise than as Nature, is 
 God described to us, when he is spoken of as him — 
 
 * AMio, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
 Works in the secret mine V 
 
 But, what I have now said, with reference to polite 
 letters, applies equally to natural philosophy, and to 
 daily conversation ; there is, in all, a general, and, I 
 think, a deferential and just hesitation, to speak too 
 frequently of God, by the direct name of God, but with- 
 out the smallest intention to obscure the idea of God, 
 or not even to recal the idea, under other names. The 
 practice, then, as I conclude, is not only excusable, 
 but praiseworthy ; and it is one which can lead astray 
 those only who are too little informed to put their value 
 upon terms in use, or are so mistaught, either by 
 dunce or by sage, as ever to separate the idea of 
 Nature from the idea of God !" 
 
 " A distinguished prelate*," continued Mr. Pau- 
 
 * Dr. Blomfield, Lord Bishop of London. 
 
382 BURFORP COTTAGE, AND 
 
 lett, " recently read to the House of Lords, with a 
 preface of the highest eulogium, a passage from one of 
 the works of a distinguished writer and divine of the 
 Scottish church *, in which we find the continued 
 repetition of such phrases as these : ' Nature provides 
 so well for such emergencies, as that she might be 
 safely let alone ;' and ' Nature has so wisely and deli- 
 cately balanced, &c. that it is much better to leave her 
 to herself, than to thwart and interfere with herf — 
 
 * She hath provided, &c. &c. f ' Now, when this writer 
 talks of the ' wisdom ' and the * providence' of Nature, 
 he means Nature herself, and speaks of Nature as of 
 Wisdom, and of Providence ; and just such, also, is 
 the language of the books of the Wisdom of Solomon, 
 and the Wisdom of the son of Sirach ; and all the 
 three, at the same time, by Nature, and by Wisdom, 
 and by Providence, mean God. ' Wisdom' stands for 
 
 * Nature,' in the books to which I have referred, as well 
 as in the writings that have been qvioted ; and in both 
 are only other names for God. ' Wisdom,' according 
 to Solomon, can ' do all things ;' ' she knoweth and 
 understandeth all things ;' ' is the worker of all things.' 
 According to the son of Sirach, she was * created before 
 all things ;' * she hath built an everlasting foundation 
 with men;' — ' she filleth all their house with things 
 desirable, and their garners with increase ;' — ' she rain- 
 eth down knowledge of understanding.' According to 
 Solomon, " Wisdom was with thee, which knoweth thy 
 works, and was present with thee when thou madest 
 the world;' and 'Wisdom' did all that was done for 
 Adam, Noah, Abraham, Lot, and against the Five 
 Cities ; and for Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and the Israel- 
 
 * Dr. Chalmers. 
 
 t Chalmers's Civil Polity of Great Cities. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 383 
 
 ites*. In her character of Providence, she is sweetly 
 said, to be ' kind to man, stedfast, sure, free from care, 
 having all power, overseeing all things.' But, then, 
 what of this same Wisdom, this same Providence, this 
 same Nature ; but that, according to the son of Sirach, 
 * Wisdom Cometh from the Lord, and is with him for 
 ever;' ' the word of God most High is the fountain of 
 Wisdom ;' ' there is one wise and greatly to be feared, 
 the Lord sitting upon his throne ;' ' he created her ;' ' she 
 is with all flesh according to his g'lh -f ;' and, accord- 
 ing, again, to Solomon, ' Wisdom, that sitteth by the 
 ihronel,' — ' she is the pure breath of the power of 
 God, and a pure influence flowing from the glory of 
 the Almighty;' — ' she is the brightness of the everlast- 
 ing light ; the unspotted mirror of the power of God, 
 and the image of his goodness;' — and yet, again, 
 ' being but one, she can do all things § ;' — that is, that 
 she (Wisdom, or Providence, or Nature) is God him- 
 self! But this *^ Wisdom' is the very ' Intelligence' 
 which, according to the Bridgewater Treatise, is nei- 
 ther Nature nor God ; while Nature does not even 
 obey God, but has another god, or ruler, in the per- 
 son of Necessity \\ !" 
 
 " Would everybody, however," interrupted Mr. Hart. 
 
 * Wisdom of Solomon, chap. x. Idem, chap. xi. 
 
 t Ecclesiastes, chap. i. 
 
 X AYisdom of Solomon, chap. ix. j Idem, chap. vii. 
 
 II It will give some support to the boldness of this criticism, in 
 these humble pages, to make the following quotation : — 
 
 " It is no detraction from Sir Charles Bell's merits to say, that 
 though an excellent anatomist and physiologist, he is but a poor logi- 
 cian. His treatise, though on the whole valuable and interesting, is 
 hardly such as might have been anticipated from his pen." — Literary 
 Gazette, No. 865. Sir Charles, it is said, is about publishing an edi- 
 tion of Paley's Natural Theology, with Notes, in conjunction with 
 Lord Chancellor Brougham. 
 
384 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 ley, " be pleased to bear you advance, eitber that God 
 is Nature, or tbat Nature is God ; and this notwith- 
 standing you satisfy us, that such is substantially and 
 even literally the language of our best writers and 
 wisest men, and of Scripture? It is often so difficult 
 to bring words to their proper acceptations, that I am 
 somewhat fearful for this result ; and yet I allow 
 that we are in the dilemma, either to attach the idea 
 of God to the name of Nature, or to let men go on 
 separating Nature from God ?" 
 
 " Even upon the foundation," pursued Mr. Paulett, 
 " of the partial remarks which upon this occasion 
 I have alone permitted myself to make, I may appeal 
 to the assured consent of authorities the most strictly 
 (though with due illumination) theological; that the 
 word ' Nature ' has three significations, assigned by 
 the world at large, and resorted to by the best and 
 most esteemed writers and speakers : — 
 
 " 1. Nature; the nature or natural property of 
 things ; as, if we should say, it is the nature of sugar to 
 be sweet ; it is the nature of the dove to be gentle ; it is 
 the nature of the fox to be cunning. 
 
 " 2. Nature ; the visible creation, or total assem- 
 blage of visible things, or things discoverable to sense, 
 as well natural, moral, and intellectual. 
 
 "3. Nature; the invisible Creator: the powder ope- 
 rating in the sensible or visible creation, and producing 
 all that is beheld in it; a power by which God is 
 to be understood; but of which it is often customary 
 (and with the advantage of less obtrusion and fear of 
 levity) to speak as under a female personification, call- 
 ing it site and her. The term Nature, under this 
 aspect, is synonymous with the term Providence, of 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 385 
 
 Vvhich, in the same manner, the personification is 
 always female, but by which none ever doubts that the 
 Divine Providence is meant. In other words. Na- 
 ture, as the term is used, and as I have said, is everv- 
 where, and either alternately or at once, as well the 
 Thing produced, and Power producing. Nature, in 
 the latter sense, is our personification of our idea of 
 the Power of God ; as, in the former, it is our personi- 
 fication of his Works. When v\e speak of Nature as 
 a sensible or visible object, we mean his Works; 
 when as an insensible or invisible agent, we mean his 
 Power, So, that Nature, in this view, is not God, 
 but the Power of God; and yet who separates, from 
 God his Power, or from his Pow er, God ? The 
 Power of God, then, is God; and God, or the 
 Power of God, is Nature." 
 
 " I think," said Mr. Hartley, " that we may safely 
 talk, both of the Works of Nature, and of Nature's 
 Works." 
 
 This conversation, all along, had been very serious, 
 and, I dare say, very sound, and very useful; but it 
 ended with two or three observations which recalled 
 familiar and pleasing images to my fancy, and there- 
 fore fixed, in a greater degree, my attention. Going 
 back to what he had said of the identical personifica- 
 tions of Nature and the Divine Providence, Mr. Pau- 
 lett now added, that he thought the common sculptures 
 and paintings which are said to personify Charity, 
 representing a woman in the act of nursing several 
 children (and which has an Egyptian prototype), 
 were, in reality, only a third modification of the same 
 subject; that is, of Nature, Providence, or the 
 
 s 
 
386 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Divine Charity (Caritas) or Love; that love, or cha- 
 rity, to all things, which Providence bestows, and 
 Nature yields; and through which she has been 
 sometimes styled (Mitissima Mater) the Tenderest of 
 Mothers : " The Divine Love," he remarked, " was ever 
 an earnest and endearing topic with antiquity, which 
 dwelt with eagerness upon the love of its gods for all 
 the creatures of the earth, and abundantly for men. 
 You may remember," said he, " a passage to that 
 effect, which is translated at the head of one of the 
 papers of the Spectator; and which, besides extolling 
 the love or charity of the gods for human creatures, 
 contains a rebuke upon the latter for not loving them- 
 selves well enough to be virtuous, and therefore 
 happy :— 
 
 ' In goodness, as in greatness, tliej excel : 
 Oh that we loved ourselves but half as well !' 
 
 " T am of opinion, too," said Mr. Hartley, " that 
 we have yet another sculptural and pictorial emblem, 
 and even poetical and traditionary celebration, of the 
 same thing or things : namely, ' the tender Pelican ;' — 
 the Pelican and her young ones. It seems to me, that 
 the bird and the group of nestlings do but take the 
 place of the woman and the children; and that there 
 is much, moreover, both in the ancient fables concern- 
 ing the Pelican, and in the extensive spread of those 
 fables, and even in the modern use of the figure, to 
 show, that the object intended to be shadowed under it 
 is nothing less than Nature, or than the Divine Cha- 
 rity, or Providence ; and if, for a moment, you 
 should think the figure of a Pelican unworthy of such 
 a place, remember, that Scripture has not hesitated to 
 insist upon the paternal cares of Jehovah over Israel 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 387 
 
 under the similitude of an Eagle and her nest as well : 
 'As an Eagle stirreth up her nest; fluttereth over her 
 yoLinu- ; spreadeth abroad her u ings ; taketh them ; 
 beareth them on her wings: so, the Lord alone did 
 lead him - 1' " 
 
 Returning, next, to what he had said of the Heaven, 
 as of parallel application with the word Nature, 
 Mr. Paulett added, " I was much attracted, no very 
 long time ago, by the terms of the reproof, in one of 
 the streets of London, of a little girl, who was carry- 
 ing a younger one, almost of her own size (a group, 
 in itself, often so interesting to the eye) ; and who, 
 upon the child's making some exclamation, as to a 
 bird or other object which it saw in the sky, and point- 
 ing- with its finger to what it spoke of, — rejoined, ' It 
 is vAcked to point at the sky, — because God is there I' 
 So rude, and, at the same time, so polished, and so 
 pious, said I to myself, in this, as in a thousand other 
 examples, is the code of religious sentiment among our 
 people; and thus is it handed from parent to child, 
 and, as we see, from child to child I After which I ran 
 into the notion, that a thought so impressive, so holy, 
 — so narrow under one view, — so expanded under 
 another; so imprinted, as it were, upon the face of 
 Nature ; so stamped upon a book of which the leaves 
 are always open, and from which the eye cannot be 
 withdrawn ; so fixed 
 
 ' In Nature and the language of the sense j' 
 
 and, at the same time, so obviously derived from 
 among the rules of simply human good breeding — 
 I fancied that such a thought — such a precept — had 
 
 * Deut. xxxii. 10, 11. 
 
 s 2 
 
388 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 probably reached the streets and alleys of our cities 
 of to-day, from the stony circles, or from the infant 
 schools, of our old Druids, where they inculcated a 
 profound piety, and a delicate urbanity: 'The stone 
 (it was one of their maxims of the former kind) is 
 not nearer to the ground, than God to him that needs 
 him !' " 
 
 Mr. Hartley concluded his observations by advert- 
 ing, once more, and for an instant, to what he had lately 
 been saying of the old philosophy, partly physical, 
 and partly fanciful, and still uniformly poetical, and 
 even historical, concerning the elements of nature; he 
 now added, that besides fire and ether, even water had 
 been largely esteemed the divine or spiritual element ; 
 that ivater which the advocates of the fiery preemi- 
 nence considered as the very destroyer of all spirit; 
 " and it is curious,'' continued he, " that while these 
 latter seem to have prevailed with the whole Pagan 
 world, not to offer fish in sacrifice to the gods, their 
 cold and w^atery bodies being without the share of fire 
 which could render them worthy ; others of the ancient 
 times insisted that there was fire in water; and that, 
 among the moderns, this was suspected by Sir Isaac 
 Newton, and has been proved by the French and Eno-- 
 lish chemists ! Aristotle objected to any theory that 
 deduced one element from another, as was done by 
 those who imagined fire contained in water; but elder 
 sages than himself had fancied the proof of the as- 
 sumption in the phosphorescent light which they often 
 saw in water in the dark ; a light ascribed by later 
 naturalists to phosphorescent insects, or other bodies, 
 not water themselves, but only swimming in the ele- 
 ment. Sir Isaac Newton, nevertheless, inferred the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 389 
 
 presence of fire in water from the lustre of water ; and, 
 whether the later discovery, in any manner, assists that 
 supposition or not, at least the chemists have now 
 determined, that water contains hydrogen, and that 
 hydrogen is inflammable. But the old philosophy , and 
 our figures illustrating it -, had already inculcated that 
 fire pervades all things, and water among the rest. In 
 the variety of ancient preferences, however," added 
 Mr. Hartley, " (not to call them contradictions), among 
 the respective elements, that o^ earth even, is not to be 
 excluded, though we say nothing of it now ; and we 
 
 * In a preceding note fpa^e 335) the connexion has been pointed 
 out, between the oLijects of the figures here referred to, and those of 
 the earlier figure, at page 200 ; that of the astronomical nebulae, or 
 iiebules, among the rest ; and it may be as well not to omit reminding 
 ihe reader, by no means to confound the doctrine of the nebules w ith 
 another topic of modern science, or rather philosophy ; namely, the 
 nebuhr hypothesis. In both instances, the terms nehidcE and nehular 
 are derived from the Latin nebula, a cloud or vapour ; but here the 
 connexion (which is at least an inconvenient one) is at an end. The 
 doctrine of the nebules concerns the actual appearance of the heavens, 
 and the gorgeous multitude of its bodies; while the nebular hypo- 
 thesii (so called) is merely a conjecture, more or less rational, as 
 to the manner in which, as to second causes, those bodies have been 
 formed. The astronomical nebules are groups of stars, seen, with 
 the telescope, in numbers so countless, and in an assemblage so 
 close, and yet so clearly distinguishable from the ground of the blue 
 sky around them, and behind them, as to be compared with nebula, or 
 cioads ; but the nebular hypothesis is simply a conjecture, that the 
 solid bodies of the earth and other planets were previously fluid or 
 aeriform bodies, or nebulce, or clouds, or vapours : a conjecture upon 
 the merits of which no opinion is here oflered. 
 
 With respect, however, to the doctrine of the nebules, as the 
 declared fruit of actaal observation, a particular, not the least curi- 
 ous, may be added to the account at the place referred to ; namely, 
 that these nebules, seen in such profusion as is stated, do not, for 
 that reason, cover the whole heavens, but fill only a broad band, 
 encompassing the heavens in a direction at right angles with tht; 
 galaxy, or milky-v.ay. 
 
390 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 may remark, from the whole together, in what degree 
 all these things are fancies, and only expressive of 
 human thought and sentiment, and of men's desire to 
 give expression to their ideas of nature, and to exalt 
 the conception of divinity." 
 
 "The solicitude of antiquity," rejoined Mr. Paulett, 
 " to render homage of the holiest kind, in all its ideas, 
 to the divinity ineffable, is on record, and beyond all 
 doubt ; but none of their sacred images of elements, 
 the one more than the other, were universally accept- 
 able in this respect; or, as you have said, there was 
 always a something higher than any of them in their 
 contemplation, though less often named; and such, 
 at the present day, is the Calyasi of the Hindoos, a 
 name seldom occurring in all that we hear of the theo- 
 logy of that people^ as compared with the familiar 
 names of Brahma, Siva, and Vishnoo. In the Tal- 
 muds, we have a fine tradition concerning Abraham, or 
 exposure of the insufficiency of a w^orship abused to a 
 false understanding of the doctrine of the elements; 
 and illustrative of the higher doctrine, that there is a 
 one above them all. The patriarch was commanded by 
 his fire-worshipping prince, Nebuchadnezzar, to fall 
 down, and worship the holy fire, as God. ' No,' said 
 the wise and courageous son of Terah; ' not Jire; fire 
 cannot be God ; for water will put it out !' ' Worship, 
 then, water,' said the king of the Chaldeans. * No,* 
 answered Abraham, 'not tvater ; for the winds blow the 
 water as they choose!' * Worship, at least, the winds,' 
 cried out, impatiently, the idolatrous sovereign. ' No,' 
 returned, with resolution, the father of the faithful ; ' not 
 the winds, for God commands the winds. I will wor- 
 ship only God, who commands the winds which blow 
 the water which extinguishes the fire !' " 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 291 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 Jove guards the guest. oDYSSEY, B. I. 
 
 A CONCLUDING peril came upon me before the hard 
 season closed. The whole family, after breakfast, had 
 quitted the room ; but the window by which I had 
 been admitted was still open, and the fire was still 
 burning, and there were crumbs upon the cloth. I 
 had never, till upon this very occasion, entered the 
 house in the absence of those who were so well inclined 
 to protect me ; and I soon found reason to lament my 
 newborn rashness. I was scarcely alighted upon the 
 table, before the cat, whom I had not suspected to be 
 so near me, sprung upon me like a flash of lightning, 
 and in another instant held me firmly, though cau- 
 tiously, in her mouth ; my head being free at one of 
 its corners, and my tail at the other ! I was fixed as in 
 a vice ; but, for the present, the devourer took care 
 that her teeth should only confine my feathers, and 
 not penetrate, in the slightest degree, my skin ! 
 
 At the instant, however, that she had made the 
 seizure of me, and believed me entirely at her disposal, 
 she rejoiced under a horrid growl, sufficient, of itself, 
 almost to rob me of the last remains of consciousness, 
 and even to kill me with fright, before she should tear 
 my heart out of my bosom. Growling as she went (and 
 her strong and burninor breath tortured everv nerve 
 and muscle in my body), she approached, with large, 
 and glaring eyes, with elevated tail, and with stately. 
 
392 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 measured steps, the open door of the parlour, intent 
 upon carrying me to be the sport, before my death, of 
 a black kitten, with yellow eyes, which she was nurs- 
 ing- in a distant closet. A second instant, notwith- 
 standing, brought the means of my deliverance. Emily, 
 who had forgotten her doll when she left the table, 
 came running into the room to fetch it. At her ap- 
 proach, the cat, whose jaws, at the same time, and 
 though as cautiously as ever, griped me still the 
 closer, cowered in her gait, and would fain have passed 
 her little mistress unobserved ; for that she had done 
 wrong, and was in the act of consummating the grossest 
 act of felony, if not of treason, was clear from her 
 whole deportment ! She knew that I was a protected 
 stranger; she had seen me too often, as a welcome 
 and honoured guest, at her master's, breakfast after 
 breakfast; nay, she had been chidden and slapped, 
 and threatened, and held back, and two or three times 
 turned out of the room, and obliged to sit in the cold 
 passage, and made to go without her milk, and yet 
 hear the aggravating jingling of the spoons and cups 
 and saucers ; all upon my account, and on purpose 
 to conquer her almost unconquerable disposition to 
 couch, and prepare to spring, upon my coming into 
 the room; and to light up her eyes with fierceness, 
 and to follow the direction of every step I hopped, 
 with the quicker movements of her head and tail. 
 All this she had experienced, and gradually learned 
 to yield to, so that she had come to witness and be 
 present at my visits with an air of the most unlimited 
 submission ; only noting my steps, at the first, with 
 the single and most gentle motion of her eyes, such 
 as might have been mistaken for nothing but a soft 
 admiring interest; then, growing so resigned and 
 conformable to orders, as to sit down when I arrived. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 393 
 
 and draw her two fore-paws under her breast, and 
 curl the end of her tail upon her paws ; and, at length, 
 actually to sit upright, and wipe her mouth, and 
 wash her lace and ears, after her treat of milk, and 
 scarcely seem to look my way ! But the fatal oppor- 
 tunity no sooner offered ; no sooner was she alone 
 with me, and the backs of the family for a moment 
 turned ; than all her sanguinary propensities broke 
 out in her, and she seized me, and was about to kill 
 and eat me ! Happily, the very sense of guilt made 
 her the instrument herself of her own betrayal, and 
 of my release. She met Emily in a manner so un- 
 usual ; her mouth was carried so near to the ground ; 
 there was so strong an appearance that something was 
 concealed beneath it or within it; and withal she 
 was so plainly anxious to pass Emily, not indeed too 
 quickly, but with little observation ; that the latter, 
 who, a moment before, had no thought but the anxious 
 one of finding her doll in its right place; the latter, 
 though even yet incapable of suspecting the whole truth, 
 still received, as a sudden flash, the notion that puss 
 had done something wrong — had broken, perhaps, the 
 milk-pot, or at least overturned the milk — or even 
 played with the doll, and torn off its bonnet, and 
 thrown it down, and broken its nose; — so, spreading 
 abroad her pincloth, as if to dance a minuet, she 
 stopped the door-way against puss, and loudly said to 
 her, " What have you done? Tell me directly, you 
 naughty cat !" 
 
 At the words, " naughty cat," uttered in a tone 
 which puss could not misunderstand, especially as 
 some of her perversities gave but too frequent occa- 
 sion for her to be acquainted with it, and especially 
 as it had too often reached her ears in behalf of the 
 
 s3 
 
394 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 very victim which she was then holding between her 
 teeth ; — at the words " naughty cat," puss gave up 
 nearly every hope of keeping- her prey, but yet persisted 
 in striving for it to the last ; and all this while my heart 
 was beating with a violence to any description of which 
 only the reader's imagination can do justice! 
 
 Puss, in this manner arrested and accused, paused 
 in her course, flattened her ears, drew back her whis- 
 kers, half shut her eyes beneath their bristly coverings, 
 and brought her mouth still nearer to the ground. But 
 Emily, by this time, had espied a little portion of the 
 deep orange of my throat, and caught the shining of 
 my dark fearful eye : " Oh ! you good-for-nothing 
 puss," she exclaimed; and immediately one of her 
 hands was upon the forehead of the monster, while, 
 with the fore-finger of the other, she was endeavouring 
 to procure me room to turn. Puss endured all this 
 interruption with her accustomed submission to cir- 
 cumstances, but still held me with frightful firmness 
 and perseverance; and it was not till after a second 
 scolding, a serious threat, and a slight blows that, 
 making a merit of a sort of necessity, she most unwil- 
 lino-ly relaxed her jaws, and gradually suflfered Emily 
 to remove me from the hideous prison of her mouth, 
 to the soft asylum of the latter's little hand ! This done, 
 Emily hastened with me toward the chamber in which 
 she had left her mamma ; and it was only at the door 
 of this, which she had not now the courage to enter, 
 that puss ceased to leap up to the hand that held me, 
 and which folded me in Emily's neck, half in hopes 
 (such was the madness of her ravening for me) that 
 her young mistress would restore to her the guilty 
 prize which she had made ! 
 
 But what could exceed the mingled rapture and 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 395 
 
 consternation of all that beheld the appearance of 
 Emily with her rescued Robin, and which were still 
 showed by the wondering and delighted Emily herself!^ 
 What rapture at the effected deliverance; what con- 
 sternation at the narrowness of the escape, and at the 
 daringness of puss, who had thus violated the sanc- 
 tuary of the roof which sheltered the family and its 
 guests, and thus otfended against the sacred law of 
 hospitality ! Puss was in disgrace for almost the whole 
 day. Hands and fingers were held up against her; 
 heads were shaken at her ; " Naughty cat/' were the 
 words that resounded incessantly in lier ears, from 
 every lip, and in every tone of condemnation, menace, 
 amazement, and abhorrence ; and it was not till near 
 the time of the children's going to bed, that she her- 
 self, upon account of all that had been inflicted upon 
 her, and which she had patiently endured, began to be 
 an object of compassion with those that thus corrected 
 her; that returning love began to lessen the estima- 
 tion of the fault, and that even something of remorse 
 crept into the bosoms of her judges, and a fear that 
 justice itself had been exercised too rigorously ; that, in 
 short, by dint of staid, and demure, and, as it was 
 thought, absolutely penitent looks, and of opposing 
 nothing to the sharpest reproaches of her censors, and 
 of at least not abjuring or contradicting the promises 
 and protestations which Emily and Richard made in 
 her name, as they stroked her forehead and back, and 
 patted her sides, and held up her fore-paws in petition ; 
 that, at length, all was resolved to be forgiven; and 
 that puss, purring and sidling, and once more lift- 
 ing boldly her ears and her tail, was restored into 
 full favour, and even caressed the warmer, because 
 she had suffered in penalty for her offence! For suf- 
 
396 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 fering excites pity, and pity restores love, without 
 reference to the justice of a punishment; and nothing 
 can itself justify either continued or repeated infliction, 
 except continued or repeated impenitence or guilt; 
 impenitence, which is itself guilt, and a continual and 
 obdurate repetition of offence! 
 
 Emily, in the mean time (and to go back to the 
 morning and its events), had scarcely shown her 
 bird, and told her story, to her mamma, before the 
 latter sent her straitway to find her papa in his study ; 
 and thither, she, too, and Richard, immediately fol- 
 lowed ; all to publish and to marvel at the extraordi- 
 nary event ; and to hear what papa would do to the 
 cat, and order for Robin, and say to Emily, and think 
 of the whole affair ! Not the least part of the excite- 
 ment, as to Emily and Richard, consisted, all the while 
 (as it is proper to confess), in the fact, that the former 
 actually held a Robin in her hand, and that both could 
 now, for the second time, touch and look so closely 
 at a thing which they had long seen but at a greater 
 or less distance from their eyes, and never touched ; 
 and accustomed themselves to view as that which was 
 mysterious, and hardly within the bound of what was 
 only natural ! To examine closely my red and olive, 
 ash-coloured, and green and yellow feathers ; to feel 
 the warmth of my bosom, and the fluttering of my 
 heart; to count and single out my nails and toes ; and 
 to look into my eyes, and into the hopes and fears that 
 were written within their orbs; this was an extraor- 
 dinary treat, or at least a strange and trembling occur- 
 rence ; and one in the privileges of which they indulged 
 with an eagerness that was mixed with the fear of 
 doing something wrong ! 
 
 As puss was not of the party in the study, she 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 397 
 
 escaped, for the present, all animadversion from Mr. 
 Paulett; who, besides, was first and chiefly anxious 
 that I should suffer no injury through the squeezing 
 of Emily's hand, nor through the curiosity of either 
 child. I retained no mark of the capture which had 
 befallen me by puss, except a slight wetness of a few 
 of my feathers from the odious slaver of her mouth. 
 I had not felt, as I have before acknowledged, the 
 piercing sharpness of her teeth ; and still less the ter- 
 rible rouo-hness of her tonsfue, in itself sufficient to 
 tear (under the name and form of licking) the flesh 
 from off the bones of the creatures that she preys upon. 
 Mr. Paulett, after commending and kissing Emily for 
 the good deed she had performed, advised her to put 
 me out of her hand as soon as possible; and, in short, 
 she set me gently down upon the cushion of a chair. 
 
 Emily and Richard had expected, that as soon as 
 I should be set free, I would take to my wings ; and, as 
 they were secretly desirous that I should not go, the 
 former as well as the latter (the instant she had placed 
 me carefully upon my breast) ran to shut the door, 
 which, amid the perturbation of the scene, had thus 
 long continued open. I had little immediate inclina- 
 tion, however, for flight. I lay, for some time, just and 
 on the very spot, as Emily had placed me ; my feet 
 drawn up to my feathers; my eyes wandering, and 
 my heart beating. Presently, Richard ran to fetch me 
 crumbs, and shreds of cheese ; and even water was not 
 forgotten. But here, as formerly at Mr. Gubbins's, I 
 was incapable of either eating or drinking ! 
 
 One of the subjects of astonishment with my young 
 observers, was the delicacy with which puss had con- 
 trived to keep me within her terrific power, so as not to 
 leave the slightest scar from the sharp points of her yet 
 
398 EURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 firmly compressed teeth. But Mr. Paulett explained 
 to them that this was only in conformity with one of 
 the constant habits of her species, which was always 
 careful to catch and keep its prey alive, till it should 
 have prefixed to the pleasures of the meal, a lon^ 
 pastime in the torture, the tossing, the tempted escapes, 
 and repeated recaptures of the animal that was to be 
 eaten ; a pastime sufficiently dreadful to the subject 
 of it, but which probably answered the double purpose 
 of at once pleasing and animating- for future toil the 
 lucky captor, and of rendering the flesh of the harassed 
 captured more tender for the eating : " It is, perhaps," 
 said he, '' no other, than a cat's natural cookery." 
 
 " But the cat's propensity and capability," he added, 
 " to carry large and living things in her mouth, securely 
 and yet softly, is not only incessantly evinced by the 
 carrying of her kittens ; but, as we have at least one 
 instance upon record, can be evinced even to such a 
 bird as this, for the directly opposite purpose to that of 
 puss to-day ; and sorry am I that our favourite Tabby, 
 instead of exercising her abilities upon our favourite 
 and half-domesticated Robin, upon such an occasion 
 of amiable solicitude as that which I am about to 
 relate, should have been guilty of an outrage disgrace- 
 ful to our hospitality, and of rank rebellion against the 
 laws and feelings of the family of which she is so falli- 
 ble a member! I wish it had been our puss who did so 
 kind an act, both to the canary-bird, and to its mistress, 
 as to take it away in her mouth, at the approach of a 
 strange cat, and keep it safe till the suspicious visitor 
 was gone !" 
 
 *' O papa," cried Emily, '* was there ever really a cat 
 so good, and with so much understanding, as to save 
 a canary-bird in that manner j or, is it only a story in 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 399 
 
 some book, where people invent fine things that never 
 happened, and yet make believe that they are true? 
 Oh 1 if there ever was such a cat, how^ I wish that she 
 had been mine; how dearly I should have loved 
 her !" 
 
 "But tell us the story, papa," said Richard; "and 
 then we shall see whether or not it is likely to be true? 
 Or, perhaps, you do not say that it is true, but only 
 tell it as a fable, and for the sake of the moral!'" 
 
 " They say, Richard, that it is true," resumed Mr. 
 Paulett, " and as a truth I tell it you; but I cannot 
 answer for the fact. However, it is short, and this is 
 it. A lady had a canary-bird, the door of whose cage 
 she used to set open whenever the bird, with safety to 
 itself, could be permitted to fly and hop about the 
 room. The lady also had a cat; and she had brought 
 the two to live together in the greatest harmony, and 
 confidence, and comfort. The room had a window 
 which opened upon leads that were covered with 
 stands for flower-pots; and from which steps led to 
 a still higher platform. One day, when the lady had 
 left the room, with the door and window open, and 
 only the cat and the canary-bird within, and the latter 
 out of his cage, and quite at large, a strange cat made 
 her appearance, and the lady's cat, instead of staying 
 to growl and spit at the unknow n intruder, as, in other 
 circumstances, would certainly have happened, imme- 
 diately caught the canary-bird in her mouth, and 
 sprang with it out of the window, and from one lead 
 to the other, upon the highest of w hich she held the 
 bird in safety, till her mistress returned, and till the 
 strange cat was gone. When all was clear, she de- 
 scended, with the bird still in her mouth, and brought 
 it unhurt to the feet of her mistress!" 
 
400 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Oh what a g-ood cat !" exclaimed, at the same 
 instant, both Emily and Richard. 
 
 " But, my dear Henry," said Mrs. Paulett, '' can the 
 story be really true?" 
 
 " I do not very well see the difficulty of believ- 
 ing- it," answered Mr. Paulett. " You can have no 
 doubt but that the cat would have acted entirely in 
 this manner, had her kitten been in question, instead 
 of the canary-bird; so that there is nothing- actually to 
 startle you, but that she should have been as carefid 
 of her mistresses canary-bird, as she would have been 
 of her own kitten ? Now, leaving it out of the sup- 
 position, that she might have had a regard for her 
 mistress, in thus protecting the fellow-favourite, there 
 will be nothing extraordinary in the occurrence, if 
 you attribute all to the cat's direct attachment to the 
 bird, which she had been taught to treat as a compa- 
 nion, and with which she had long lived ! After this, 
 nothing remains, but that, moved by the same senti- 
 ment toward the canary-bird, as would have moved 
 her in behalf of her kitten, she took just the same pre- 
 caution for the one, that she would have taken for the 
 other; exactly as yourself might equally snatch up 
 your child or your cat, in different moments of danger, 
 there being but one equal means of safety for resorting 
 to, in either case." 
 
 " I see," said Mrs. Paulett, " that the cat's attach- 
 ment to the bird being first admitted, all difficulty is 
 removed. It did but manifest its attachment as the 
 situation demanded, and as its own nature dictated.'* 
 
 " And the incongruous attachments, in a state of 
 mutual domestication, of animals of the most opposite 
 species to each other, are things of frequent occurrence ; 
 and not less frequently so, the dangers to the one party 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 401 
 
 or the other from the unfortunate introduction of 
 strangers, of the same species, but without tlie parti- 
 cular attachment. Emily, you may remember, was 
 telling- us, the other day, the story of the old gander, 
 which had long lived upon the best terms with the great 
 yard-dog, so that he constantly slept in his kennel; 
 but which, attempting-, one day, to enter the kennel 
 when his friend was absent, and when a strange dog 
 had taken temporary possession, was flown upon by 
 the latter, and instantly killed." 
 
 While these remarks were making, I was gradually 
 reco veering my composure, and recruiting my exhausted 
 strength, and had begun to look a little about me ; 
 though I still lay, or rather I had changed my position 
 upon the cushion to a sitting, and had but small in- 
 clination for moving from my place. At this juncture, 
 however, Emily indulged in a speech, which, from the 
 new alarm that it excited in my mind, had considerable 
 effect in further arousinsf and reinviororatins" me. 
 
 " O papa," said she, " now that poor Robin has 
 been so much frightened and ill-used ; and now that 
 the weather is so very cold, and that every thing is 
 covered over with snow ; shall we not keep him in the 
 house till spring, and till there is plenty for him to 
 eat in the woods and gardens?" 
 
 Hardly as I had obtained my subsistence, and severe 
 as had been my sufferings and misfortunes for the long 
 time past; this proposal of Emily's, most kindly though 
 it was meant, filled me with new anguish and new ter- 
 rors I To be shut up in a house, warm as it might be, 
 and cold as might be every thing outside of it; to be 
 shut up in a house, plentiful as I knew to be its board, 
 and hospitable as I knew to be its inhabitants; and, 
 above all, to be shut up in a house with a cat so very 
 
402 EURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 unlike the cat that took care of the lady's canary-bird ; 
 and, more than every one of these, to be denied the 
 power of promising myself, from day to day, to meet 
 again with my now captured mate ; these were sugges- 
 tions which once more made all my blood run cold, 
 and from the dread and grief inspired by which nothing 
 but the answer griven to them bv Mr. Paulett could 
 have in any degree released me ! 
 
 " Only hear, papa," continued Emily, " how prettily 
 these verses, in my little book, give just such an invi- 
 tation as poor Robin is in need of now. To be sure, 
 this poet says, that there is * nothing of the tabby 
 kind' where he ii\vites his Robin to come; but we will 
 take care, you know, that puss shall never use our 
 Robin naughtily again! Shall I read, papa?" she 
 added ; and, her papa readily encouraging her to do 
 so, no further time was lost: 
 
 ' TO A RED-BREAST. 
 
 * BY DR. PERFIiCT. 
 
 ' Descending from tlje leafless sprav, 
 
 The scattered crumbs to eat ; 
 Fearless of harm, last night, I saw 
 
 Thee hopping round my feet. 
 
 • This morn, th}' tuneful notes I heard 
 
 Where murmurs softl v rill ; 
 And why, my pretty sonneteer, 
 
 Dost thou desert my sill ? 
 
 ' Why, perched upon the broken wall, 
 
 Or hop-pole stuck hard by, 
 Dost thou behold my peaceful cot 
 
 With uiore suspicious eye ? 
 
 ' Here's nothing of the tabby kind. 
 
 Thy vermeil crest to watch ; 
 No wicked boy, with bird-lime snare, 
 
 Thv little form to catch ! 
 
ITS [lOBIN-RED-BREAST. 403 
 
 ' And now, when all the feathered tribe 
 
 Scarce greet us with a note, 
 Oh come, and charm mj pensive dame 
 
 With thj melodious throat ! 
 
 ' Safe from the winter's piercing cold. 
 
 The blast that bends the trees ; 
 The falling snow, and rigid frost. 
 
 That numbs with every breeze; 
 
 ' Return, sweet bird, and make thy home 
 
 \^ ith me, thy friend sincere ; 
 Repay my kindness with a song. 
 
 And I'll protect thee here!' 
 
 "And you know, papa/' continued she, ardently, 
 that Robins often like to live in houses during the 
 winter; and that we have read of one that lived in a 
 greenhouse, and another in a chapel, and another that 
 came every year, for fifteen years (and till it died, in 
 the winter of 1787), into Bristol cathedral, and used to 
 follow the verger to be fed ; and, when there was ser- 
 vice, used to perch upon one of pinnacles of the great 
 organ, and sing when the organ was played ; — and to 
 which Robin one of the clergv of the cathedral* ad- 
 dressed these verses, and more, of which last, however, 
 I have no copy : 
 
 ' Sweet social bird ! whose soft harmonions lays 
 
 Swell the glad song of thy Creator's praise, 
 
 Say, art thou conscious of approaching ills. 
 
 Fell winter's storms — the pointed blast that kills? 
 
 Sbunn'st thoa the savage North's unpitying breath. 
 
 Or cruel man's more latent snares of death ? 
 
 Here dwell secure ; here, with incessant note. 
 
 Pour the soft xnusic of thy trembling throat : 
 
 Here, gentle bird, a sure asylum find ; 
 
 Nor dread the chilling frost, nor boisterous wind !' 
 
 "You know, papa,^' she added still, " that the Robin 
 which went every year to live iu Lady Eddington's 
 
 * The Rev. Samuel Love, one of the Minor Canons. 
 
404 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 conservatory, where a small hole was left for him to 
 go in and out, used generally to come in September 
 and go away in February ; and so, you know, it would 
 make him so happy if we were to keep him till Fe- 
 bruary, which will soon be here ?" 
 
 "My dear Emily," replied, at length, her conside- 
 rate and benevolent papa, " we must not make our- 
 selves accomplices with puss, to take from little Robin 
 his liberty; and, as to your poetry, which is very 
 pretty, and which you have read very prettily, it does 
 not appear that either that, or any other of your stories, 
 apply to the forcible imprisonment of a Red-breast, 
 but only to invitations, if it should be chosen to accept 
 them. This, too, I am cpiite sure, is all tiiat you mean 
 yourself; and very shortly we will give Robin his 
 choice, either to go or stay. At present, he is hardly 
 recovered from his fright; but, as soon as we think 
 we see him uneasy at his situation, we will open the 
 window for him, for a little while; when, if he chooses 
 to go, he must go, but only, as I hope, to continue 
 his welcome visits. You know, my dear, that he 
 has hitherto lived out of doors, cold as the weather 
 has been ; and that he showed no inclination to stay 
 with us, even for a quarter of an hour, when you 
 released him before ; so that we must certainly leave 
 him his choice still, and not take advantage of his 
 accident of to-day, to make him our captive ; an act 
 which, after all, we might perpetrate rather from the 
 vice of selfishness, than from the virtue of hospitality. 
 Recollect, too, the opinion of one more poet, about 
 the captivities of our wild birds, to join with the other 
 poems upon your list : 
 
 ' Th' aerial chorister, no longer free, 
 Wails and detests man's civil cruelty: 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 405 
 
 Still dumb th' imprisoned sylvan bard remains 
 
 (Your human bards make music with their chains) ; 
 
 And when, from his exalted cage, he sees 
 
 The hills, the dales, the lawns, the streams, the trees ; 
 
 He looks on courtly food with loathing eyes. 
 
 And sighs for liberty, and worms, and flies !' 
 
 Emily, after hei-iring these observations from her 
 papa, acknowledged all the error of her first idea, and 
 professed an entire content that I should have my choice 
 allowed me; and, while the party were still waiting to 
 see what I would do, Mr. Paulett summed up, as it 
 were, the doctrine which he would have his children 
 understand, as to the exercise of any peculiar hu- 
 manity toward the tribe of Red-breasts. 
 
 "You are sensible, my dears," said he, "of the 
 general duty which I inculcate, of humanity and 
 tenderness toward all things ; and among others, to- 
 w ard all the members of the brute creation ; and you 
 know that I am in the habit of partly inferring the 
 reality of our duty in this respect, from the tradi- 
 tionary recognition of it which has come down to us 
 from all ages and nations; a respect for anticjuity, 
 and for universal sentiment and opinion, which I 
 cherish upon this, as upon many other subjects, be- 
 cause mankind has always felt as we now feel, and 
 because the testimony of ancient sentiments and opi- 
 nions must greatly encourage us to place confidence 
 in the justice of similar sentiments and opinions among 
 ourselves. But while, in part, I thus appeal, to an- 
 cient and traditionary authority, in support of general 
 humanity, and of humanity to the inferior animals in 
 particular; I think it right to explain to you, and this 
 from antiquity also, the highest, at least, of the motives 
 which have dictated any peculiar affection or reverence 
 for the Red-breast ; which motive, also, does in itself 
 
406 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 inculcate a high moral lesson, and the right under- 
 standing of which may save you from some mistaken 
 notions, and even from the danger of superstitious 
 misapprehensions, in respect of these little birds. 
 
 " If we compare the Red-breast with so many of the 
 other species of small birds which frequent our fields 
 and gardens, it must be acknowledged that the list of 
 its exclusive recommendations, is, as we have before re- 
 membered, so long as almost to make me desist, at this 
 time, from recurring to it. There is the pleasingness 
 of its figure and colours ; the gentleness of its habits ; 
 the sweetness of its morning and evening song; the 
 season of its advances ; the wants and hardships under 
 which it is labouring; and the uniformity and confi- 
 dence w ith which it approaches us ; hut it is its confi- 
 dence alone that sanctifies it to our hearts. It is its 
 familiar entrance of our dwellings ; it is its approaches 
 to our tables and our hearths ; it is its frank and con- 
 fiding appeals to our hospitality ; that is, to our bounty, 
 to our sufferance, and to our protection ; — it is these 
 things which make, as they have so long made, the Red- 
 breast sacred in the eyes of mankind ; and that, whether 
 in consideration for the poor bird itself, or of the great 
 principle, and great type and symbol, which it involves. 
 * Jove guards the guest ; Jove avenges the stranger 
 and the poor; Jove rewards their benefactors, and 
 punishes their evil-doers;' these were the humane and 
 pious maxims, the lofty and benignant principles, in- 
 sisted upon, hour after hour, by all antiquity; and, 
 besides that this same antiquity made no distinction 
 between the love of God for any of the creatures of 
 God, but believed them to be all the equal objects of 
 his jealous care and universal tenderness, it attached 
 also a high value to the universal and undeviating 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 407 
 
 maintenance of great principles, never turning to the 
 right or to the left to excuse a departure from them, 
 under the smallest or least important circumstances. 
 To infix in the human heart the universal oblio^ation, it 
 relaxed not, for a moment, from the stern demand of 
 its fulfilment in all cases; and taught and infused a 
 horror of its neglect or violation, minute and super- 
 jstitious as it often appears to our narrower practice, but 
 salutary as tendinis earnestly to insure its influence 
 upon every occasion. This was a powerful method of 
 disciplining the human mind ; and the depth of the 
 influence is proved by the lastingness of those impres- 
 sions which it has formed and left upon every people, 
 even to this day ; taught by parent to child, and by 
 one man to another, and forming the faith and prac- 
 tice of the multitude — 'the rural fiiith '—without the 
 aid of, and often in immediate contradiction, with the 
 lessons of all our modern schools! It is thus, my 
 children, that I account for this ancient and special 
 prejudice in favour of the Red-breast, and of some 
 other birds and beasts; and thus that, losing sight 
 for the moment of all particular applications of the 
 principle ; of all c^uestions of hospitality, even in the 
 most sacred and exalted sense ; and of all particular 
 modes of returning confidence with trustworthiness; I 
 sum up all the practice, and all the lesson, intended by 
 antiquity, and persisted in by every modern people, in 
 relation to the Red-breast, and to some other creatures 
 similarly confiding in mankind, into this one rule; — 
 That ive are never to abuse the confidence reposed in us ; 
 never to he faithless to those who place themselves at our 
 mercy ; never to reward the dependence placed upon us, 
 by the infliction of injury upon our dependents. This, 
 my dearest Emily and Richard, is the moral of our 
 treatment of the Red-breast ; this is our natural moi\\e; 
 
408 BURFORD COTTAGEj AND 
 
 and thus, as you will remark, there is nothing super- 
 stitious, nothing supernatural, in the case : it is but an 
 appeal to natural feeling. 
 
 " But, from this analysis of the nature of the spe- 
 cial claims of the Red-breast upon our humanity, you, 
 my dear Richard,'^ concluded Mr. Paulett, " will see, 
 that though you, when you released him from the bird- 
 catchers, were partly influenced by the semi-domestic 
 character of our little bird, yet the act was little more 
 than one of ordinary charity ; while Emily, in deliver- 
 ing him from peril within our house, has vindicated, 
 against naughty puss, our house's character for hos- 
 pitality ; — for help and safety at its door and under 
 its roof; — and reasserted, as it were, in his behalf, the 
 generous maxim of those that have preceded us, that 
 * Jove guards the guest/ or commands his succour and 
 protection." 
 
 I very much approved of all that Mr. Paulett said 
 upon these subjects, and thought there was something 
 highly pleasing and illustrative in what Mrs. Paulett 
 mentioned as of kin to it. She observed, that in Con- 
 stantinople, where, as in Holland, and in some other 
 countries, the storks are at least the largest of the birds 
 which frequent men's houses, and where they are 
 cherished for their services, as well as respected in 
 their claims to hospitality ; — in Constantinople, it is 
 the Turks, or it is theMoliammedans, only, whom they 
 find hospitable, and upon whose houses alone, there- 
 fore, that they build ; uniformly avoiding those, both 
 of the Greeks and the Armenians! " Oi' the stork, 
 therefore," she added, " it may seem that we can say, 
 what your papa's poet says of the dead : 
 
 ' He knows well wlio do Ioac him !" " 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 409 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 Thy mind 
 Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms ; 
 Thy memory be as a dwelling-place 
 For all sweet sounds and harmonies. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Fairly resuming, at the last, all my strength and 
 vigour, I rose upon my feet, and, almost at the same 
 instant, spread abroad my wings, and flew to one of 
 the highest shelves in Mr. Paulett's study; yet sofdy 
 uttering, as I settled, some short but tuneful notes of 
 thanks to my deliverers. The moment for decision 
 was now come; and (desirous as I was that it should 
 not pass without giving me to the free skies, cold as 
 blew the wind beneath them) I speedily made a second 
 flight, by which I reached the window, where, as on 
 the previous occasion of my captivity, I displayed, by all 
 my actions, my anxious wish to be at large. The hint 
 was complyingly taken ; I withdrew to the opposite 
 side of the room while Mr. Paulett opened the win- 
 dow ; which he had no sooner done, than I fled through 
 it, to shelter myself, however, the next moment, only 
 beneath the roof of an open shed. 
 
 I ventured, even so cpickly as the next morning, to 
 revisit the windows of the breakfast-parlour; but not 
 without the exercise of much more than ordinary pre- 
 caution. Though I arrived before the family had 
 entered it, I was careful to abstain from my yesterday's 
 error, lest puss should be again the solitary occupant, 
 and without restraint upon her merciless inclination 
 
 T 
 
410 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 toward Robin-red-breasts. When all, too, were seated, 
 when crumbs were thrown to invite me ; when I heard 
 many a wish and hope expressed for my coming ; and 
 when, with all my scrutiny, I could not perceive that 
 puss was so much as in the room ; still it was but amid 
 the most unconquerable terror, and after numerous 
 and earnest solicitations, that I reached, at first, only 
 the ground before the windows, where every thing 
 was thrown that could entice me. The first sound of 
 my voice, however, and the first appearance of my 
 person, were received with such lively expressions of 
 joy, and I made my first descent so safely, to pick up 
 a large crumb from oflf the snow; that my courage 
 rapidly improved, and I hopped upon the sill, and 
 upon the carpet, though timidly and hastily to begin 
 with, and retiring almost the moment I advanced. 
 Nothing, in the meantime, could be warmer than the 
 welcome given to me ; and I thought, after a succession 
 of anxious glances in search of puss, that (what I still 
 believe) my friends had wholly excluded her, for this 
 time, lest the sole sight of her should deter me from 
 renewing their acquaintance. Indeed, I was not sure, 
 at the particular instant of which I am now speaking, 
 that she had escaped summary punishment for her 
 behaviour to me ; and judged it by no means impro- 
 bable, from the resentment which I had yesterday seen 
 entertained against her, that she might have been 
 hanged, or drowned, or at least banished from Bur- 
 ford Cottage, for my sake; but when, in the couree of 
 the next day or two, and after several eflforts to regain 
 admission at breakfast — consisting in faint mews at the 
 parlour-door, at long intervals, and, from their timidity, 
 scarcely to be heard, so as to be treated again to milk 
 as heretofore, I saw her in her former place, and with 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 411 
 
 more than her former meekness and forbearance in her 
 face and actions ; then, I rejoiced, as much as any body, 
 at the forgiveness she had experienced, and even began 
 to fancy that I should like to be upon friendly terms 
 with her. Certain it is, that before I retreated to the 
 woods for the summer, I had grown so fearless as to 
 pick crumbs within a foot or two of her nose ; she 
 looking at me complacently, and I watching her nar- 
 rowly, eye for eye. 
 
 It was while, in this manner, and with equal step, 
 my fears and my animosity, in respect of puss, were 
 daily giving way, that I was once more the auditor 
 of a conversation, principally between Mr. Paulett 
 and Mr. Hartley ; but which, though still tending 
 to the completion of those views of human history, 
 ancient and modem, savage and civilized, I had seen 
 them always hitherto displaying; took, in the present 
 instance, a more immediate direction toward fixing" 
 the minds of their young companions upon elegant 
 and useful learning, and more particularly as to those 
 views of classical learning, "which,^' said Mr. Paulett, 
 " it is the modern barbarism, as it has repeatedly been 
 the ancient, to hold up, sometimes to derision, and as 
 often to abhorrence." The observations, however, that 
 were made, arose out of those references to classical 
 poetry indulged in by Mr. Hartley, in elucidating 
 that ancient philosophy by which, in turn, he elu- 
 cidated the notions entertained of things, among so 
 many nations ancient and modem, and refined and 
 barbarous. 
 
 " One thing leads to another," said Mr. Paulett, to 
 Mr. Hartley ; " and while you have brought us so much 
 of pleasure and information, ranging from American 
 savages, and from African barbarians, to Greek and 
 
 T 2 
 
412 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Koman philosophers and poets, and to the teachers of 
 the Romans and the Greeks, it has been no small part 
 of my particular gratification to find you making so 
 much interesting and noble use of passages aflforded 
 you by the ancient classics ; those writers who did (and 
 from the date of their existence have ever done) so 
 much to exalt, embellish, and purify the human un- 
 derstanding; and to whom mankind, as individuals 
 and as nations, owe a debt beyond all power to repay ! 
 I allude more immediately to your philosophical quo- 
 tations from the poets." 
 
 ** Ancient poetry," returned Mr. Hartley, " was the 
 mouth-piece of philosophy ; or, perhaps, in more ge- 
 neral terms, I ought to say, that all poetry is the lan- 
 guage of all philosophy ; for, not only does the poet 
 unifoiTnly attune his song to the celebration of all 
 moral and intellectual truths; but, through every age, 
 he repeats to us, in verse, even those natural truths in 
 which the age believes, and which the philosopher 
 has first taught to the poet in plain prose. But, as to 
 the value of ancient poetry, it is sufficient to repeat, 
 or at least to expand, what you have formerly remarked, 
 as to the degree in which all modem and European 
 poetry is indebted for its ideas, its sentiments, its 
 images, and even its terms and phrases, to the litera- 
 ture of Rome and Greece ! Boast, indeed, as we may 
 please, of the modern general literature of England, 
 France, and Germany ; what, at this day, we can ask, 
 would have been the general literature of Germany, 
 France, or England, but for that of ancient Greece 
 and Rome, which so endlessly supplies the body and 
 the soul, and so often the very coverings, or clothings, 
 or forms of expression and illustration to the former ; 
 which has been the parent, or which has bestowed 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 413 
 
 the life, the vig'our, and the likeness ; which has bred 
 them up to what they are, directed their pursuits, set 
 them forward in the world ; and even so far furnished 
 them with apparel, that were the ancient feathers taken 
 away, they would stand stripped and naked, from the 
 loss of borrowed beauty, like the daw in the old fable? 
 Alas ! why is it that no generation can understand for 
 what it has to be thankful to all that have preceded 
 it; and, while bold in its actual powers, and indus- 
 trious in employing them for further acquisitions, as 
 gratefully acknowledge, as, knowingly or unknow- 
 ingly, it liberally employs, the resources which have 
 been bec|ueathed to it, and without which all its own 
 strength and efforts would have procured it very little!^ 
 We seek not to depreciate what the moderns can do ; 
 but why should the moderns depreciate what the an- 
 cients have already done ?" 
 
 " An ignorant contempt of antiquity, an ignorant 
 boast of their own times, have been the vices,'' said 
 Mr. Paulett, " of the vulgar, from age to age. In all 
 aufes, nevertheless, there have been men learned and 
 modest enough to do justice to the reputation of an- 
 tiquity ; but, then, these men have always been the few, 
 and never, by any chance, the many ! It is the case 
 with what is classical." 
 
 " One of the numerous distinctions," observed 
 Mr, Hartley, "of the age of darkness in which it is 
 your lot and mine to live, is, that we find incessant 
 outcries against the classical education of our youth. 
 I am very happy, in the meantime, to see that my 
 young friend, Richard, is making rapid and cheerful 
 progress with his Latin and Greek ; and that even 
 Emily (though by a route less toilsome, because more 
 superficial) is cultivating a taste for the inspiring 
 history, the elegant fables, and the sublime morality. 
 
414 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 as well as for the noble arts of the two most polished 
 and most learned nations with which the world ap- 
 pears to have ever been acquainted, or which, at 
 least, have been the sources, and remain the models, 
 the guides, and the inspiring tutors of all our western 
 side of the globe, in every thing that is superior in any 
 one of these departments of human intellect, or senti- 
 ment, or ingenuity. ' Rome,' says one, ' which civilized 
 the western world ;' — and as to ancient Greece, the deep 
 acknowledgments of those who know and feel what 
 have been the services of its arts, its learning, and its 
 genius to humanity, are without limit or number : 
 
 * Genius of ancient Greece, whose faithful steps 
 Have led us to these awful solitudes 
 Of Nature and of Science ; nurse revered 
 Of generous counsels and heroic deeds* !' 
 
 But, whatever may be the loud and popular, and, for 
 the moment, the predominant, or, at least, the obstre- 
 perous cry of the day, let us take comfort from the 
 reflection, that among those who are best able to 
 appreciate its merits, classical learning has still its 
 friends; and that, through these, it still, 
 
 * To Isis' shore, 
 
 Brings the fair fruits the groves of Athens bore t ;' 
 
 groves and gardens of Athens and old Greece, to 
 which a contemporary poet, and one still later than 
 the lamented author I have now quoted, pays another 
 and more explanatory tribute : 
 
 ' Gardens of delight! in whose green glades. 
 
 And fragrant groves, or by the mossy verge 
 Of sparkling fountain, or serener stream. 
 Conversing sages teach to genial youth 
 Ennobling precepts. To be wise and free, 
 Refined and virtuous, is their theme sublime +.' " 
 
 * Akenside. t Sotheby. % Disraeli. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 415 
 
 " It is complained, in the first place," said Mr. Pau- 
 lett, " that classical learning is only the learning- of 
 lan2:uao^es — the learninij of icords — and not a learnins: 
 of things; and, besides that the whole study of the clas- 
 sics is condemned, either as frivolous, or as detestable, 
 it is attempted to persuade us, that we are eminently 
 absurd in teaching our children languages, before we 
 teach them kiioicledge.^' 
 
 " And yet how ignorant, from syllable to syllable," 
 interrupted Mr. Hartley, " is every part of the com- 
 plaint ! I leave where I have left it, the value of the 
 classics when studied ; and will only touch, for the 
 present, upon the question of giving classical learning 
 to youth. I begin, by denying that our schoolboys, 
 even while they are learning their Latin and Greek 
 grammars, construing Latin and Greek authors, and 
 writing Latin and Greek exercises, are not — even then 
 — acquiring knowledge, as well as preparing to acquire 
 more; and this, though the knowledge acquired, even 
 at last, may be of little esteem with the vulgar, in our 
 present English age of steam-engines and rail-roads, 
 and even of those rather higher objects, the natural 
 sciences. Our schoolboys, while they are learning 
 Greek and Latin, are also learning the general art of 
 writing and speaking — the art of expressing human 
 thoughts; and, what is more, they are learning the 
 art of thinking, and the art of reasoning; they are 
 learning writing, speaking, logic, and the conduct, 
 the invigorating, and the disciplining of the under- 
 standing; they are forming the taste, they are fixing 
 attention upon the subjects of human thought and 
 observation ; and is all this, which is merely incidental 
 to the learning of the languages, nothing in itself, and 
 nothing: to the stores of knowledge P The master-error 
 
416 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 of our opponents is, that they know nothing of the 
 lowness of the level from which the human intellect, 
 by one means or another, has to work up its way ! 
 They know nothing of the heedlessness, the dullness, 
 of the unassisted intellect ! They see men as they are 
 — the cultivated plants of a well-tended garden ; — the 
 weeds, if they will have it so, of a soil richly manured 
 and laboriously prepared ; and they believe that man, 
 cultivated man — man, it may be, in his lowest social 
 state — man, the neglected product of a neglected 
 ground-plot ; — ground-plot 
 
 ' where once the garden smiled, 
 
 And still where many a garden-flower grows wild;' — 
 
 man in society, and reflecting the education of others, 
 even if no otherwise educated himself — is, by intuition, 
 and from the sole hand of nature, every thing which 
 they see him as he stands ! They take into no account 
 the unassisted vacuity of his ideas, the unassisted 
 paucity of his observation, the unassisted incapacity 
 of his expression ! They never dream, that unless by 
 rare endowment, or rare industry, men owe every thing 
 internal, as well as external, to those around them, 
 even to the formation of their speech, and even to the 
 creation of their thoughts ! They never remark to 
 themselves, either the historical facts of the ignorance, 
 the inanity, the false taste, the wild conceptions, the 
 puerile conceits of ages and nations (and these perpe- 
 tuated from age to age); nor the fact, within their 
 daily view, of the vacancy, the stupidity which passes 
 for wit, the low employments of mind, the silly occu- 
 pations of a slumbering intellect, and added to these, 
 the difficulties of speech and expression; among all 
 who, either in school or out of it, either in the closet or 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 417 
 
 the world, have not cultivated, as well as inherited 
 from nature, I do not say their powers of understand- 
 ing-, but the art, the discipline, and the objects of 
 thinking, and the power of expression ! The man of 
 nature has all germs ; but it is only in the man of art 
 that we see the generous blossoms and the luscious 
 fruits ; and how wide, in the meantime, is the circle of 
 these men of art ; how small a portion of society exists 
 out of the influence, direct or indirect, of the labours 
 of the teacher ! I contend, therefore, that the cultiva- 
 tion of all these invaluable things is going forward 
 incidentally in the young mind, even while the direct 
 aim is confined to the merely learning of languages ; 
 and I call all these things knowledge, and knowledge 
 which, as it must precede and be the instrument of all 
 other knowledge, is itself knowledge of the highest rank. 
 But, if languages, as languages only, are to be learned at 
 all, then, the propriety of making them the objects of 
 youthful education, and of making their acquisition in 
 great measure precede the acquisition of Avzoi^^/gf/^^, popu- 
 larly and vulgarly so called, is a point upon which the 
 arguments of its advocates ought to appear triumphant. 
 It has always been said, that memory and not judgment 
 is the characteristic of youth, while judgment and not 
 memory is more frequent with riper years ; and it 
 should follow from this, that the preliminary acquisi- 
 tion of languages — of words — rather an after-acquaint- 
 ance with things — should really be the more immediate 
 object of youthful education : ' Our fathers, then,' says 
 a recent pleader for the early study of languages, and 
 the study of the classics, ' have done wisely, and fol- 
 lowed nature, in making the study of languages a part 
 of our earliest discipline. By this study we gain ac- 
 cess to the magazines of thought — we find our way 
 
 t3 
 
418 BURFORD COTTAGE, ATS'D 
 
 through the vast storehouses wherein are piled the 
 intellectual treasures of a nation, as soon as we have 
 capacity to understand their value, and strength to 
 turn them to account;' while, as to this ' value' of the 
 classics — these * intellectual treasures' of ancient na- 
 tions, stored in the dead languages, he subjoins : 
 * With individuals, as with nations, the powers of 
 imagination reach their maturity sooner than the powers 
 of reason ; and this is another proof, that the severer 
 investigations of science ought to be preceded by the 
 study of languages; and especially [by the study] of 
 those great works of imagination [the body, of course, 
 of classical poesy] which have become a pattern for 
 the literature of every civilized tongue. From time to 
 time there arise upon the earth men who seem formed 
 to become the centre of an intellectual system of their 
 own. They are invested, like the prophet of old, with 
 a heavenly mantle, and speak with the voice of inspi- 
 ration. Those that appear after them are but attend- 
 ants in their train — seem born only to revolve about 
 them, warmed by their heat, and shining by their 
 reflected glory. Their works derive not their value 
 from momentary passions or local associations, but 
 speak to feelings common to mankind, and reach the 
 innermost movements of the soul; and hence it is 
 that they have an immortal spirit which carries them 
 safe through the wreck of empires and the changes of 
 opinion. 
 
 " ' Works like these,' he adds, ' are formed by no 
 rule; but become a model and a rule to other men. 
 Few, however, among us, are permitted to show this 
 high excellence. Ordinary minds must be content to 
 learn by rule ; and every good system of teaching must 
 have reference to the many and not to the {^w. But 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 419 
 
 surely it is our glorious privilege to follow the track of 
 those who have adorned the history of mankind — to 
 feel as they have felt — to think as they have thought — 
 and to draw from the living fountain of their genius. 
 Wonderful and mysterious is the intellectual commu- 
 nion we hold with them 1 Visions of imagination start- 
 ing from their souls, as if struck out by creative power, 
 ai-e turned into words, and fixed in the glowing forms 
 of language ; and, after a time, the outward signs of 
 thought pass before our sense ; and, by a law of our 
 beino^not under our control, kindle within us the very 
 fire which (it may be thousands of years ago) warmed 
 the bosom of the orator or the poet — so that once 
 again, for a moment, he seems, in word and feeling, to 
 have a living presence within ourselves ! 
 
 " ' As the body gains strength and grace by appro- 
 priate exercise of all its members ; so, also, the mind 
 is fortified and adorned by calling every faculty into 
 its proper movement. No one will indeed deny, that 
 the imaginative powers are strengthened and the taste 
 improved, especially in young minds, by the habitual 
 study of models of high excellence. It may, however, 
 at first sight, well admit of question (when we consider 
 the shortness of life and the multitude of things de- 
 manding our efforts, and pressing on our attention), 
 whether the study of dead languages ought to form a 
 prominent part of academic discipline? Had Europe, 
 after the darker ages, advanced to civilization without 
 the aid of ancient learning, there would have been less 
 ease in answering this question. But, without troubling 
 ourselves with imaginary difficulties, we may reply — 
 that the best literature of modern Europe is drawn 
 more or less from the classic source, and cast in the 
 classic mould ; and [even the best literature of modern 
 
420 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Europe] can neither be felt nor valued as it ought with- 
 out ascending to the fountain head — that our superstruc- 
 ture must suffer, if we allow its foundations to decay. 
 
 " ' Assuming, then, that our fathers have done well 
 in making classical studies an early and prominent 
 part of liberal education ; there still remains a ques- 
 tion, whether they are wisely followed up on the sys- 
 tem of our University ? Those who are best acquainted 
 with our studies will confess with what delight they 
 have witnessed the extent and accuracy of the erudi- 
 tion displayed, of late years, by many of our younger 
 members. Whatever is taught in this place ought to 
 be taught profoundly; for superficial information is 
 not only of little value, but is a sure proof of bad train- 
 ing. Hence, that critical skill which teaches men to 
 dissect the ancient languages — -to unravel all the sub- 
 tleties of their structure — and to transfuse their whole 
 meaning into a translation, well deserves the honours 
 and rewards we have long bestowed upon it*.'" 
 
 " You have a powerful auxiliary," said Mr. Paulett, 
 " in the author whom you cite !'* 
 
 " Many things," resumed Mr. Hartley, " would re- 
 quire to be added, to complete the argument for making 
 the study of languages — the study of the dead lan- 
 guages — and the reading of the Greek and Roman 
 classics — an early and prominent part of liberal educa- 
 tion ; but, with respect to the latter parts of the inquiry, 
 it ought to be sufficient for us to ask such as imagine 
 that our general taste in letters, our national and Euro- 
 pean literature, our morals and our manners, could 
 flourish as well (or, as they will say, even better), with- 
 out classical foundations as with them ; it ought to be 
 
 * Sedgwick's Discourse on the Studies of the University (Trinitj 
 College Commemoration), Cambridge, December, 1832. 
 
ITS ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 421 
 
 sufficient to ask these antagonists, upon what principle 
 it can be thought likely that wisdom would teach us to 
 neglect the literature of those ancient polished nations ; 
 while, in respect of so many other arts, than the arts of 
 thinking, speaking, and writing, these very antagonists 
 are commonly among the foremost to proclaim those 
 very nations, not only our teachers, but masters to an 
 equality with w hom it is all but hopeless for us to aspire, 
 and whom it is quite hopeless that we should at any 
 time surpass? What of their marbles, their medals, 
 their cameos, their palaces, their temples ; their sculp- 
 tured and painted vases; their cups, their lamps, their 
 couches, all their domestic furniture, their apparel, 
 and every other production of their hands? We travel, 
 we study, we contemplate, we measure, we copy, we 
 cast; we descend to the minutest effort to catch the 
 minutest feature, and to discover, if it be possible, the 
 ruling principles in all their handicrafts; and are but 
 too happy if, in any rare and fortunate example, we 
 can succeed — not in producing something new and 
 equal — but something so minutely copied as to be a 
 perfect copy ! And do we believe that these same na- 
 tions had not heads as well as hands ; tongues as well 
 as fingers; thoughts as well as works; fancies in their 
 brains, as well as in their colours, their metals, and 
 their marbles ; in their gems, in their friezes, in their 
 statues, in their columns, in their pediments, in their 
 domes, and in their very pavements ; and, before we 
 have proceeded to the fixing of the fact, is it no pro- 
 bability, that in all the arts together (all joined by 
 the directing mind), they were as transcendent as 
 in any one alone? I shall not stop to contrast the 
 state of the arts — the arts intellectual and moral, as 
 well as corporeal — spiritual as well as material — at- 
 
422 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 tained to by those illustrious nations — with that disco- 
 verable among any other nations, ancient or modern ; 
 but take my leave of the whole subject in singly calling to 
 your recollection, that the entire controversy turns upon 
 the fate of a previous proposition, the reception of which 
 will always be different among two different sorts of 
 men ; — the men humble and infovmed enough to de- 
 cide upon it wisely, and the men arrogant and too ill- 
 informed to concur in the decision ! We have alluded to 
 it, indeed, already, but it may be well to express it with 
 distinctness, and it is this : that all the greatness, all 
 the excellence which men possess, is a taught great- 
 ness, a cultivated excellence, the fruit of ages of teach- 
 ing and cultivation, in union with the most fortunate 
 circumstances; and that, when acquired, it is to be 
 valued like the apple of our eye ; guarded like gold in 
 our coffers ; and nursed and watched as what, if lost 
 again, may, and by every probability, never will 
 be recovered ! Have you seen the benighted neigh- 
 bour, or have you seen the helmsman at the binnacle, 
 who, amid gloom and storms, has obtained one little 
 spark, or possesses one little flame of light or fire — his 
 only hope amid cold and darkness — his only help to 
 read his compass-card, amid the wind, and cold, and 
 darkness; — how he cherishes it — how he defends it — 
 how he keeps it in the hollow of his hand, how he feeds 
 it with his breath, and how he despairs of light, or 
 waraith, or safety, if it should become extinguished ? 
 But just such is the light of classical learning; just 
 such is what Ossian calls the light of the song; so 
 should it be cherished, watched, expanded, preserved, 
 and fanned into a flame; and just such should be our 
 despair if vre saw that vivifying light go out ! Ignorant 
 men among us seem to suppose, that all we know is 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 423 
 
 known by intuition — that, to find it, we need only- 
 look for it — and that, if lost, it can always be re-disco- 
 vered. But, to quote to them only a single authority 
 contrariwise — Milton, in his prose works, and while 
 writing- for the freedom of the press, is of opinion, that 
 a truth once lost, or once discovered and left unpub- 
 lished, may thus be lost again for ever, to nations and 
 to ages. Discoveries and great attainments of no kind 
 are such every day and ordinary things as some per- 
 sons may imagine V 
 
 " But, Mr. Hartley," interrupted Richard, " there 
 is one thing which surprises me, in all that you are talk- 
 ing about ! You keep saying such things as the art 
 of writing and speaking, and the arts of thinking and 
 expressing thoughts ; and that schoolboys, while they 
 are learning Greek and Latin, are also learning these 
 arts of thinking and expression; now, I know that 
 there is an art of writing, but then, that art is taught 
 us by our writing-master, and not by our Greek and 
 Latin master; and, as to the arts of thinking and rea- 
 soning, I have heard of the art of bread-making, and 
 the art of brick-making; but I do not understand how 
 thinking, reasoning, and speaking are to be called artsi* 
 Do they not come by nature ?" 
 
 '' My dear Richard," returned Mr. Hartley, " I have 
 said as much myself; and yet, to write, speak, reason, 
 or think well, are arts. Art is act ; and all acts or prac- 
 tices are arts. There is a method in doing them; a 
 purpose to which to apply them ; and to do and apply 
 them well, is matter of art, and may be learned ; and 
 depend upon it, that while you think you are only 
 learning Greek or Latin, you are also learning to think, 
 reason, and express yourself, either in writing and 
 
424 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 speech, like the Greek or Latin authors whom you 
 read. 
 
 " In what I offer/' concluded Mr. Hartley, " I can 
 only glance at a great subject, and touch but slightly 
 only a small number of its parts. I am chiefly anxious 
 to add my huinble efforts to your own, and to the voices 
 of the enlightened for so many ages past, for the assur- 
 ance of our young listeners here, that to the classics 
 themselves, and to the influence of the classics upon 
 all the better literature of modern Europe, they must 
 ever refer the greater part of the pleasures, intellec- 
 tual and moral, which they can derive from books! 
 No person is fonder of barbaric literature than myself, 
 but I would not, therefore, dispense with classical. 
 No person has a higher respect for the natural sciences 
 than I; but I would not, therefore, part with the 
 moral and intellectual. I love literature, too, as well 
 as science ; and for literature always, and often for 
 science, we must seek the foundations in things an- 
 cient ; in what is either classical or barbaric in books, 
 and in the tales and sayings of rude nations, and of 
 our common people, — or those who, not yet wholly 
 beggared by the despoiling ravage of modern upstart- 
 ism, preserve, even to this day, however unconsciously, 
 and only as attendant upon an vmlettered education, the 
 tradition of what antiquity could feel and think. These 
 are the stores from which may be promised, through Art, 
 what, with equal justice, the poet has promised through 
 Nature : 
 
 ' Thy mind 
 
 Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms ; 
 Thy memory be as a dwelling'-place 
 For all sweet sounds and harmonies!' " 
 
ITS ROBIX-RED-BREAST. 425 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Lightly deem 
 Of all but moral beauty. LANGHORNE. 
 
 " I WAS particularly pleased/' said Mr. Paulelt, a few- 
 days after that supposed in my preceding chapter (and 
 addressing- himself to his travelled and enlig^htened 
 friend); " I was particularly pleased, when, in our late 
 morning's chat upon the merits of a classical education, 
 you distinctly grappled with a part of the subject as to 
 which its opponents often think that they can take 
 high ground ; I mean, the morality of the Greek and 
 Roman classics, and the moral (or, as they presume to 
 call it, the immoral and even irreligious) influence 
 which, in their view, the study or perusal of those 
 writings may be expected to exert upon classical scho- 
 lars and readers. At times, they would teach us that 
 the classics are frivolous reading, and at other times 
 that they are mischievous; and, were it possible to 
 establish the latter charge, it would, of course, be but 
 a very insufficient answer, to put into the opposite 
 scale the utmost that could be said in respect of their 
 elegance of taste, or beauty of verse, or splendour of 
 diction, or strength of imagination : 
 
 ' All daring .Eschylus in fire of youth 
 Feared not to utter. All of truer tone — 
 More artful harmony — that sweetly floats, 
 Tempering the swell of Sophoclean notes 
 
 * Sotheby. 
 
 * J 
 
426 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " Assuredly," returned Mr. Hartley, " I am as 
 little afraid to meet the revilers of classical studies 
 upon any charges they set up, for either frivolity, 
 immorality, or irreligion, as upon any other that 
 they can venture to prefer; and, here, again, I am 
 happily enabled to utter my own sentiments in the 
 eloquent and decided terms of the writer from whom 
 I formerly borrowed, and who has himself reaped the 
 benefits which he describes these studies to be capable 
 of conferring upon others: 'In following up,' says he, 
 ' the manly studies of this place, we ought to read the 
 classic page, not merely to kindle delightful emotions 
 — to gratify the imagination and the taste — but also to 
 instruct the understanding; and to this end the philo- 
 sophical and ethical works of the ancients deserve a 
 much larger portion of our time than we have hitherto 
 bestowed on them/ — 'The classical writers did not cul- 
 tivate the imagination only ; but they saw deep into 
 the springs of human thought and action, and rightly 
 apprehending the capacities of man and their bearing 
 on social life, they laid the foundation of their moral 
 systems in the principles and feelings of our nature, 
 and built thereon a noble superstructure :' and he else- 
 where ascribes to the study of the classics, ' the study 
 of an ethical system grounded on the moral and social 
 feelings, and exemplified by that course of action which, 
 in all ages has been honoured by the virtuous and the 
 wise.' — As to religion, besides other encomiums on 
 the religious views and feelings so often embodied in 
 what remains to us of Greece and Rome, my author 
 specifically remarks, that ' the argument for the being of 
 a God, derived from final causes, is as well stated in 
 the conversations of Socrates, as in the Natural Theo- 
 logy of Paley. Nor does Socrates,' he further says, 
 
ITS ROBTN-RED-BREAST. 427 
 
 'merely regard God as a powerful first cause, but as a 
 provident and benevolent being.' '' 
 
 " It is indeed happy," interrupted Mr. Paulett, 
 '' that we have still among us men of sound education, 
 adequate knowledge, and vigorous understanding, to 
 appose at least a share of honourable resistance to the 
 puling, and vulgar, and lack-learning tone of the popu- 
 lar writings and popular sentiments of our otherwise 
 most luckless period !" 
 
 '* ^yhat is the pleasantest of all," pursued Mr. Hart- 
 ley, '' is to hear alarms expressed, as to a wrong direc- 
 tion of our moral and religious ideas from the writings 
 of ancient poets, historians, philosophers, and moralists, 
 in an age, and in a country, where morals and religion 
 are every hour receiving stabs, such as antiquity gives 
 no example of, and ought not to be believed capable 
 of inflictinsr; stabs from the works of modern writers; 
 and these, too, such as are not only read and idolized 
 by our adults, but placed before our youth in our 
 schools and collesres, and made the basis of our Intel- 
 lectual and moral education \ You shall hear my au- 
 thor's opinion upon parts of the works of those great 
 writers, Locke and Paley, and upon the schools of 
 moral and intellectual philosophy which they have 
 conspired to raise with us, and which are blasting 
 every thing about us, whether public or private i This, 
 you shall say, is our modern, moral, and intellectual 
 education ; and here is, not the contrast, but the con- 
 tradiction, to all that my author has spoken of as wise, 
 and great, and good in the lessons of antiquity ; — and 
 yet these books (thus malignant at least in parts) are 
 not books merely circulated among the populace, or 
 read in ignorance or by stealth, but appointed for the 
 
428 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 reading, analysing, and learning by heart, of our 
 youth in schools and colleges ! 
 
 " 'In all the history of moral reasoning (says this 
 writer, when speaking of Paley's leading tenet), there 
 is not to be found a fundamental proposition more 
 faulty in its principles or more dangerous in its appli- 
 cation ;' — and he then describes the low and withering 
 scheme of utililarianism as no other than the consum- 
 mation of the consequences of the writings of Locke 
 and Paley ; a scheme with which, for the moment at 
 least, all English literature and life have become 
 infected * ! ' Moral theories,' says he, ' have no expe- 
 rimentum crucis [no physical proof] whereby their truth 
 or falsehood may be tested ; and in their application 
 they may affect the social dignity and the happiness 
 of millions, each gifted with an immortal nature. I 
 am not fighting with ideal evils. Who has not wit- 
 nessed the effect of false principles carried into the 
 social system?' — 'False opinions on moral questions 
 are then not mere aberrations of mind ; for they pro- 
 duce a direct, and sometimes an overwhelming influ- 
 ence, on the practical judgments of mankind — on all 
 the maxims of society by which men are generally 
 governed. Not, however, to dwell on the strange 
 errors in modem moral speculations, we may, I think, 
 conclude, that Utilitarian Philosophy, wherever it is 
 received and acknowledged, will teach man to think 
 lightly of the fences which the God of nature has 
 thrown around him, and so prepare him for violent 
 and ill-timed inroads on the social system, and for the 
 
 * " The tone of utilitarianism — often, it must be confessed, a verj 
 bad tone," — -says one bj no means hostile to its general features — 
 " which the opinions of society are gradually assuming." 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 429 
 
 perpetration of daring crimes.' — ' Lastly, we may, I 
 think, assert, both on reason and experience, that 
 wherever the Utilitarian System (avowedly based on 
 a rejection of the moral feelings, and an abrogation ot 
 the law of conscience) is generally accepted; made the 
 subject of d ^;r/c>ri reasoning; and carried, through the 
 influence of popular writings, into practical effect; it 
 will be found to end in results most pestilent to the 
 honour and happiness of man.' 
 
 " 'Utilitarian philosophy,' he also tells us, 'in destroy- 
 ins the dominion of the moral feelinsrs, offends at onc€ 
 both against the law of honour and the law of God. 
 It rises not for an instant above the world ; allows not 
 the expansion of a single lofty sentiment ; and its 
 natural tendency is to harden the hearts, and debase 
 the moral practice of mankind. If we suppress the 
 authority of conscience, reject the moral feelings, rid 
 ourselves of the sentiments of honour, and sink (as 
 men too often do) below the influence of religion ; and 
 if, at the same time, we are taught that utility is the 
 universal test of rig-ht and wrons: ; what is there left 
 within us as an antagonist power to the craving of 
 passion, or the base appetite of worldly gain!' In such 
 a condition of the soul, all motive not terminating in 
 mere passion becomes utterly devoid of meaning. On 
 this system, the sinner is no longer abhorred as a rebel 
 to his better nature — as one who profanely mutilates 
 the image of God ; he acts only on the principles of 
 other men, but he blunders in the chances of his per- 
 sonal advantage : and thus we deprive virtue of its 
 holiness, and vice of its deformity ; humanity of its 
 honour, and language of its meaning ; we treat, as no 
 better than madness or folly, the loftiest sentiments of 
 the Heathen as well as Christian world; and all that 
 
430 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 is great or generous in our nature droops under the 
 influence of a cold and withering selfishness. 
 
 "* Utilitarian philosophy and Christian ethics/ he 
 proceeds, ' have in their principles and motives no 
 common bond of union, and ought never to have been 
 linked together in one system: for, palliate and dis- 
 guise the diflference as we may, we shall find at last 
 that they rest on separate foundations; one deriving 
 all its strength from moral feelings, and the other from 
 the selfish passions of our nature. Religion renounces 
 this unholy union ; and the system of utility, standing 
 by itself, and without the shelter of a heavenly gar- 
 ment not its own, is seen in its true colours, and in all 
 the nakedness of its deformity. 
 
 " ' If we accept,* adds he, ' a system of philosophy 
 which looks on actions only as the means to obtain a 
 worldly end, have we not cause to fear that the end 
 will be made to sanctify the means? — Have we not 
 cause to fear that private virtue will, before long, be 
 set at nought, or sink under the domination of univer- 
 sal selfishness — and that, in the prevailing disbelief in 
 individual honour, public men will become the mere 
 implements for carrying into eflfect the basest aims of 
 faction? In such a degraded state of public opinion, 
 bad, unscrupulous, boasting men, may be elevated to 
 places of high authority; and in their hands the foun- 
 tains of law and justice may become polluted — the 
 sacred cause of liberty bartered or betrayed — and the 
 national faith sacrificed to vanity, to personal interest, 
 and to party violence. When once sunk to this con- 
 dition, a nation has parted with the materials both of 
 its strength and glory — the very elements of its cohe- 
 sion are passing away.* 
 
 " In contrast,** continued Mr. Hartley, " with these 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 431 
 
 our modern morals, as well in theory and in practice, 
 and of the precepts and examples that they present, 
 my author talks of the ' heroic deeds of self-devotion 
 adorning the history of Greece and Rome;' and adds, 
 ' If the poet's song inflamed, and the funeral oration 
 sanctified the courage of the youth of Greece and Rome, 
 they were taught also to believe in the supremacy of 
 conscience, and to regard vice as a violation of the law 
 of their moral nature. A lofty standard of right and 
 wrong was ever set up before them; and, however 
 corrupt their practice, virtue was honoured at least in 
 word, and was never permitted to pass without its fit- 
 ting eulogy ;' while, as to the partial failures of ancient 
 theory in practice, and the direct vice of our own 
 theory, he subjoins, — ' It is notorious that no man 
 acts up to the rule of his religion — that many are 
 indifferent to it, or openly deny its sanction. In exa- 
 mining the effects of the Utilitarian Philosophy, we 
 have no right to bind up its maxims with the Book of 
 Life, thereby producing an incongruous system, offen- 
 sive alike to sound philosophy and true religion — we 
 must try it among men acting on worldly principles, 
 and knowing no higher sanction than the current senti- 
 ments of honour: and, not appealing to extreme in- 
 stances, but taking men as they are, it may, I think, 
 be confidently stated, that the general acceptance of 
 Paley's moral rule in any Christian society, would 
 inevitably debase the standard of right and wrong. It 
 strikes indeed at the very root of the higher virtues 
 which in the past history of mankind have ever been 
 held up to honour, as the strong bonds of social happi- 
 ness, and the foundation of national g-reatness. And 
 while human nature is what it is, every system that is 
 sterile of great virtues, will be fruitful of great crimes.' 
 
432 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 "My author/' continued Mr. Hartley, "next pro- 
 ceeds to fix upon the Essay of Locke the misfortune 
 of having misled Paley, and (through the aid of Paley), 
 so many thinkers, actors, and writers of the present 
 age ; a charge which he establishes by reference to its 
 two conspicuous and momentous errors : ' With all its 
 faults (as he anew proclaims, and as we must all con- 
 fess), the Essay on the Understanding is a work of 
 great power/ * Its greatest fault,^ he then gently adds, 
 * is the contracted view it takes of the faculties of man' 
 — * depriving him both of his powers of imaginatimi 
 and of his moral sense ;' errors of doctrine of which he 
 thus describes the consequences in practice : ' Hence 
 it produced, I think, a chilling effect on the philoso- 
 phic writings of the last century; and many a cold 
 and beggarly system of psychology was sent into the 
 world by the authors of the school of Locke !' — ' It is to 
 the entire domination his Essay had once established 
 in our University, that we may, perhaps, attribute all 
 that is faulty in the Moral Philosophy of Paley.' 
 
 " The practical mischief again, of a philosophy, 
 which, like that of Locke, denies the existence of the 
 imagination, is thus properly and forcibly painted 
 by my author: 'It is by the imagination, perhaps, 
 more than by any other faculty of the soul, that man 
 is raised above the condition of a beast. Beasts have 
 senses in common with ourselves, and often in higher 
 perfection : to a certain extent also they possess, I 
 think, powers of abstraction, though this is denied by 
 Locke ; but of the imaginative powers they offer not 
 a single trace. These high attributes of the soul con- 
 fer on it a creative energy — aid it even in its generali- 
 zations from pure reason — bring before it vivid images 
 of the past, and glowing anticipations of the future — 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 433 
 
 teach it to link together material and immaterial 
 things, and to mount from earth to heaven. All that 
 is refined in civilized life, all that is lofty or ennobling 
 in art, flows chiefly from this fountain. As a matter 
 of fact men do possess imaginative powers, and have 
 ever delighted, and ever will delis^'ht in their exercise : 
 and to exclude them from a system of psychology is to 
 mutilate, and not to analyse the faculties of the soul. 
 They may have been abused; but what of that? 
 Every faculty has been abused and turned to evil! 
 Shall we, then, not merely overlook the powers of 
 imagination ; but, with Locke, regard men who appeal 
 to them in their proofs and mingle them in their 
 exhortations, as no better than downright cheats ? For 
 a metaphysician to discard these powers from his 
 system, is to shut his eyes to the loftiest qualities of 
 the soul ; and is as unaccountable as it would be for a 
 physiologist to overlook the very integuments of an 
 animal frame * !' 
 
 * "Whether or not the author quoted is more justifiable in abso- 
 lutely denying, as a little above, the faculty of imagination to beasts, 
 than Locke in denying it to mankind, is what, perhaps, may yet 
 be left in debate ; but the opportunity is here seized for making a 
 slight correction in the anecdote of a dog, related in the earlier part 
 of this volume, page 56 ; though, possibly, it has nothing to do with 
 the imagination of a beast, but only with the real matter of a biscuit. 
 The dog in question is sitting by the writer's side while this note is 
 written ; but, upon what is believed to be more accurate information, 
 there seems to have been an excess, in stating, that after purchasino- 
 a biscuit, he would bring it, without trespassing upon it (that is, 
 without eating it, or any part of it) to his master. The truth is, that 
 when sent for a biscuit, it was always for his own eating ; and the 
 only remarkable particular, to be put into the place of that now taken 
 away, is the care which he uniformly took, not to part with his 
 halfpenny till the biscuit was given to him, which was done by 
 placing it before him, upon a piece of paper, upon the ground. That, 
 had he been so taught, he would have performed the other action 
 
 V 
 
434 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 '' My author next exposes, as he ought to do, the 
 mischief as well as the absurdity of Locke's denial to 
 mankind their possession of the moral sense, or of 
 natural or inherent moral feeling ; and the effect of 
 that extravagance upon the writings of Paley, and 
 upon the thoughts, words, and deeds of the followers 
 of both ; whether writers, teachers, preachers, or public 
 or private men. I wish, however, that the utmost 
 should be made of what he says in the words, * Nor let 
 it be said that the moral sense comes of 7nere teaching ;' 
 for I think that, here, he does every thing but fall into 
 the very error he condemns. The moral sense comes 
 of no teaching at all ; but, when it is come, it may be 
 directed, diverted, encouraged, repressed, deadened, 
 enlivened, narrowed or expanded by teaching ; that is, 
 either by precept or example ; and hence the value of 
 good moral precept, and of good moral example. Thus 
 guarded, I shall read to you, with peculiar pleasure, 
 this one further extract from my author's book, marking 
 the folly and the ignorance (not, here, to speak of the 
 practical mischief) of our modern moral teachers, when 
 they deny the natural seat and origin of moral senti- 
 ment or feeling, or the existence of the moral sense : 
 ' Let it not be said that our moral sentiments are 
 superinduced by seeing and tracing the consequences 
 of crime. The assertion is not true. The early sense 
 of shame comes before trains of thought, and is not, 
 therefore, caused by them ; and millions, in all ages of 
 the world, have grown up as social beings, and moral 
 
 (that of bringing the biscuit whole to his master), there can be little 
 reason to doubt; but a desire not to overstep the truth suggests the 
 propriety of this note. The dog (a terrier) is in the habit of being 
 treated to biscuits, of which he always prefers sweet ones. He is like- 
 wise very partial to sugar. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 435 
 
 agents, amenable to the laws of God and man, who 
 never traced, or thought of tracing, the consequences 
 of their actions, nor ever referred them to a standard 
 of utility. Nor let it be said that the moral sense 
 comes of mere teaching — that right and wrong pass, 
 as mere words, first from the lips of the mother to the 
 child, and then from man to man ; and that we grow 
 up with moral judgments gradually engrafted in us 
 from without, by the long-heard lessons of praise and 
 blame, by the experience of fitness, or the sanction of 
 the law. I repeat that the statement is not true — that 
 our moral perceptions show themselves not in any 
 such order as this. The c|uestion is one of feeling ; 
 and the moral feelings are often strongest in very early 
 life, before moral rules or legal sanctions have once 
 been thought of*. Again : what are we to understand 
 
 * If the moral sense is a natural sense (and if not a natural sense 
 it is no sense at all), it must exist at the period of the earliest child- 
 hood; and in reality, the early manifestations of the sense are so 
 frequent, not to say so hourly and so incessant, that (notwithstanding 
 the great names to be contended with) it may be almost matter to 
 blush at, or apologise for, to say one word, or proffer one example, 
 in support of the position of the learned and reverend professor. It 
 is ventured, nevertheless, to transcribe the following anecdote of the 
 ebullition of the moral sense, in a little girl, occurring in a letter from 
 Dr. Burnev to Hannah More. The account is of a childish incident 
 at a plav, upon one of those occasions when, through " the cunning 
 of the scene," the old as well as the young have so often felt all that 
 thev saw and heard as a reality. A certain page, in a well known 
 work of his correspondent, " reminded me," says Dr. Burnev, " of 
 a little trait of natural benevolence in a female child of mine, at the 
 play of Jane Shore ; who, being in the front of a stage-box in a 
 countrv theatre, and hearing the wretched Jane in vain supplicating 
 ' a morsel to support her famished soul,' and crying out, ' Give 
 me but to eat!' the child, riot five years old, touched with her 
 distress, says, ' Ma'am, will yon have my oUange?' — which the 
 audience applauded much more than the artificial complaints of the 
 actress. And I must add to my little anecdote, that the charitable 
 
 u2 
 
436 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 hy teaching? Teaching implies capacity [a teachable 
 capacity in the taught] ; one can be of no use without 
 the other. A faculty of the soul may be called forth, 
 brought to light, and matured ; but cannot be created, 
 any more than we can create a new particle of matter, 
 or invent a new law of nature *.' 
 
 " A moral sense," said Mr. Paulett, '' is a moral 
 perception, or moral feeling ; and without moral per- 
 ception, or moral feeling, how could men be moral 
 
 disposition of this child grew up with her growth, and has never 
 quitted her in maturity." — Memoirs and Correspondence of Mrs. Han- 
 nah More. But such circumstances as these belong to the history of 
 human nature, and show us what it is, just as much as the natures 
 of the animal species are illustrated by their several actions, habits, 
 instincts. It is by seeing what things do, that we discover what 
 they are; and, in an age like the present, when we read and gather 
 with so much interest the natural history of fishes and insects, birds 
 and beasts, and discern in them structures and powers so miraculous, 
 and oftentimes an intellect so strong, and traits of character so amiable ; 
 pray let us not forget to inquire into the natural history of man, and 
 at the same time be prepared to do it justice ! " Why," says Saint 
 Augustine, " dost thou dote on the image of a king, stamped on a 
 coin; and despise the image of God, that shines in human nature?" 
 Antiquity, it may here be added (always antiquity to contrast with 
 modern error !) neither denied nor doubted the moral sense ; for it 
 even analysed it ; dividing it, like the natural or corporeal sense, into 
 five united faculties. Recitals and explanations upon that head would 
 lengthen this long note ; hut it may be permitted to add one of those 
 ino-enious, and moral and pious representations, in which antiquity so 
 largely abounds, and which, here, pursuing into the intellectual and 
 moral worlds, that number five which it saw in the five senses, and 
 which (as in the text of preceding chapters) it supposed in the five 
 elements; it discovered it, here, too, — first, in the number of our 
 duties, — and, then, in those of our bodily members, or instruments for 
 their performance : " Man," said the ancient Fire-worshippers, and 
 so many others of the ancient world at large ; " man has (1) a heart 
 to be wholly devoted to God ; (2) eyes to contemplate his glory ; (3) 
 ears to hear of his mercies ; (4) a tongue to talk of his goodness ; and 
 (5) hands to pray to him with, and to serve his creatures." 
 * Sedgwick's Studies of the University. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 437 
 
 beings; that is, how could they have a moral nature, 
 or that nature which they really possess ; namel}^ a 
 nature at once natural or corporeal, and intellectual 
 and moral ? The moral sense, then, is real, and so is 
 the faculty of imagination ; but both rec|uire regula- 
 tion, cultivation; both need to be enlightened and 
 controlled ; and these are the provinces of reason in 
 ourselves, and of teaching upon the part of others. 
 Moral feelings are natural and spontaneous; but 
 moral precepts, though natural as well, are to be 
 studied, and are to be taught ; and the imagination, 
 also, which is a gift of nature as undoubted as it is 
 valuable, is, by art (that is, by reflection or by teach- 
 ing), to be nurtured upon the one hand, and restrained 
 upon the other. I cannot, in short, but think, that 
 only a misunderstanding of the nature of the real 
 question, must be the cause of any disagreement as to 
 the answer to be given/^ 
 
 " No doubt," pursued Mr. Hartley, " your qualifica- 
 tions are those with which the whole subject is to be 
 received ; but let us, now', retrace, a little, the steps that 
 we have trodden. We have seen, perhaps (upon the 
 grounds, and upon the authority which I have adduced 
 to you), some reason to suspect, that our moral and 
 religious sentiments are in rather greater danger of per- 
 version from the modern writins^s of England and all 
 Europe, than from the ancient ones of Rome and 
 Greece*. We have seen, that if, as in every thing else that 
 
 * If we add, to the view of the respective states of moral and 
 intellectual science among us, something of the state of our natural 
 science, we shall then have further reason to admire ourselves, and 
 to despise antiquity ! We have seen (page 37G) " Nature" despoiled 
 o€ intelligence, and condemned to do what she " must,"' by a Bridge- 
 water Treatise ; and, according to an anonymous, but profoundly 
 scientific contemporary, she " must"also watch her " opportunities !" 
 He tells as, that, at a certain stage in the world's history (being the 
 
438 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 is human, and amid transcendent merits, there are to be 
 found, in the volumes of the classics, blemishes and im- 
 perfections, there are also to be found, in the volumes 
 of modern authors, and amid transcendent merits also, 
 blemishes and imperfections as well; a discovery which 
 forces us upon the ulterior question, in which of the 
 two the faults are of natures tending to consequences, 
 and to consequences of the greater evil ; to the pervert- 
 ing of principles at their very roots, instead of, perhaps, 
 the occurrence of partial stains upon the surfaces of 
 ideas? We have seen that these classical writings of 
 Greece and Rome, besides being praised for their 
 intellectual beauty, can be praised for their moral 
 beauty also. We have seen, that while ancient litera- 
 ture can find eulogists for its display of all that is 
 great, and generous, and fructifying to the human 
 head and heart, and for its transcript of the thoughts 
 and feelings of universal man ; our modern English 
 and European literature is spotted, if not covered, with 
 all that is barren, cold, and mean ; with the dreams 
 of a small and sickly sect ; with the ignorance, the 
 dullness, the heartlessness of a low and miserable 
 body of opinions, whatever, for the moment, its 
 wretched exaltation; and with the deposit of principles 
 which, as they would have been the contempt of all 
 ages past, will be the contempt of every age to come ; 
 — principles lothsome in speculation, ruinous and 
 criminal in practice ; principles darkening and enfee- 
 bling the understanding, blasting, corroding, putrefying, 
 every thing that should have been virtuous and wise, 
 either in public or in private life ! It remains only to 
 
 stage at which, according to him, the " higher species of mammiferfe " 
 were actually created), there occurred — " a favourable opportunity fur 
 the creation of the higher species of mammiferae !" 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 439 
 
 take notice, that (what we ought to have reckoned upon 
 beforehand ) it is precisely the instruments and advocates 
 of all this vulgar and vicious teaching of the moderns, 
 that are the revilers and adversaries of classical learn- 
 ing and education ; the foes of that refinement of 
 thinking and manners, that nobleness of purpose and 
 conduct, from which, through all her past history 
 (but what will happen through her future?) nearly the 
 most classical of our English poets could say of the 
 Muse, with love and transport : 
 
 * Her track, where'er the goddess roves, 
 Glory pursue and generous Shame ; 
 The Unconquerable Mind and Freedom's holy flame!' 
 
 It is a mark, in the mean time, never to be mistaken, 
 that when we hear a man express hatred or contempt 
 for classical learning, he is a Goth, a Vandal, upon all 
 other subjects, however variously the current of his 
 thoughts may be made manifest. In certain times and 
 situations he is the enemy of all that is good, if it but 
 happen to be modern ; in other times and situations 
 he has the same unsparing enmity toward every thing 
 that is ancient. At the moment in which we are speak- 
 ing, he is a utilitarian and all the rest beside. I have 
 seen this in Europe ; I have seen it in North America ; 
 and I believe it to be universal." 
 
 " A single principle," replied the master of Burford 
 Cottage, " commonly runs through all men's thoughts, 
 upon all subjects ; — and this, of course, whether in 
 Europe or America. The principle, in the present 
 case, is an extravagant confidence in mere uncultivated 
 human nature; and all that you have been saying 
 would hence be as usefully heard upon the banks of the 
 Mississippi, as ujDon those of the river Thames I" 
 
440 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 To be wise and free, 
 Refined and virtuous, is their theme sublime. 
 
 DISRAELI. 
 
 " It is curious," continued Mr. Paulelt, " and highly 
 corroborative of what you advance, that, perhaps, in 
 every age and country affected by the question, there 
 is and has been, between the friends of Grecian learn- 
 ing upon the one side, and those of barbarism upon 
 the other, a uniform conflict, and therefore, as it might 
 seem, a natural enmity, or enmity naturally arising out 
 of their respective and opposite views and situations. 
 In Persia, upon that revolution in its political and 
 religious concerns of which Richard and Emily will 
 remember me to have before spoken ; when the rude, 
 domestic, and perhaps patriotic Orschir, ArdeshirBabe- 
 gan, or Artaxares, or Artaxerxes the son of Babec (that 
 founder of the dynasty of the Sassanides), triumphed 
 beneath the famous standard of the Blacksmith's 
 Apron*, and finally crushed the Grecian learning 
 
 * " Gavah, the Persian Wat Tyler (says a contemporary critic, 
 distinguished for the zeal and depth of his Eastern reading and 
 inquiry), raised an insurrection, and established the independence 
 of at least one tribe, in the Iranian mountains. Tradition extended 
 the fame, and threw back the era of his exploits ; — in the time of 
 Ardeshir, the Blacksmith was regarded as an heroic deliverer, whose 
 Apron had floated triumphantly over kingdoms, instead of districts ; 
 and the wise descendants of Sassan adopted both the story and the 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 441 
 
 which had entered and established itself in Persia 
 with the arms of Alexander, and drove away its 
 cultivators ; that conqueror and founder, restoring the 
 Magian or Masdian faith, and permitting only the 
 learning of the Zendavesta and its fire-temples; made 
 proclamation, * that he had delivered the kingdom from 
 the sword of Aristotle the philosopher, by which the 
 people had been devoured for five hundred years !' 
 meaning, by the ' sword of Aristotle,^ more especially 
 the Logic of that mighty master of human learning, but 
 with which went Grecian letters in general, and Grecian 
 arts and civilization. Again, at Alexandria, the Jewish 
 Rabbies took exactly the same view of Aristotle and 
 his fellow Greeks; declared the philosopher a Gentile, 
 and logic a Satanic art, and pronounced the solemn 
 anathema, ' Cursed is he that eateth hog's-flesh, and 
 he that teacheth his child Greek I' In France, in the 
 thirteenth century, these examples, however uncon- 
 sciously, were still copied, and the Council of Paris 
 condemned the works of Aristotle ; and in England, 
 in the sixteenth century, Grecian learning bore the 
 same discredit, and it was reserved for Henry the 
 Eis^hth to be the defender, at once of reliofious refor- 
 mation and of polished letters ; and, with these, of 
 Grecian art in general ! In the spirit of the Fire- 
 worshippers in Persia, of the Jews in Alexandria, 
 and of the Council of Paris in France, the Romish 
 clergy in England, of that day (or at least a party in 
 
 banner, to gratify national pride, and stimulate national enthasiasm." 
 — AthencEum, No. 365. 
 
 " Tliis remarkable standard," observes a writer who is quoted hy 
 the same critic, " was taken by the Arabs at the battle of Kudseah ; at 
 which time it had been enlarged from its original size of a blacksmith's 
 apron, to the dimensions of twenty-two feet in length by fifteen in 
 breadth, adorned with jewels of great value." 
 
 u3 
 
442 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 their body), had declared it heretical to study the Greek 
 language ; and, at Oxford, the greater number of the 
 scholars had entered into a consec{uent combination, 
 calling themselves ' Trojans,' or enemies of the Greeks ; 
 and, under the Trojan names of Priam, Hector, Paris, 
 and many more, they harassed and persecuted their fel- 
 low-gownsmen that were guilty of applying themselves 
 to the Greek grammar. For some time, this war- 
 fare was treated either as insignificant or as merely 
 foolery ; but Sir Thomas More, being at Abingdon, in 
 attendance upon the King, where not only he heard of 
 the Trojan faction, but found that there was a priest 
 in the town, labouring incessantly from the pulpit, 
 to inflame the hatred of the youth against the Greek 
 language and writings, and against polite learning and 
 the fine arts in general ; he made formal complaint to 
 the King, in his equalities of Privy Councillor and 
 Chancellor, and procured a royal order from the latter, 
 as Visitor of the University, obliging the students to 
 the study of the Grecian classics. 
 
 " Such, then," continued Mr. Paulett, " has been 
 part of the past fortunes of Grecian learning, even in 
 our own country. But the same spirit continues, and 
 will always continue, wherever ignorance, and its com- 
 panions, narrow opinions and barbarian tastes, prevail. 
 At the college of Schenectady, in New York, Greek 
 and Latin studies are excluded, and an acquaintance 
 with the French language provided for in their stead. 
 The French language and its books, instead of the 
 Greek and Roman! Nor is it in English America 
 only, but in England itself, that at this day (going 
 back almost to the ignorance of the sixteenth century), 
 the same rancour against the Greek and Roman classics 
 is cherished and encouraged by a party; and that 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 443 
 
 Other studies would willingly be placed in the room, 
 and to the exclusion, of the classical ! And what, mean 
 while, is the history of the Grecian works of literature 
 and its students, and of their influences upon 
 
 ' Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes ;' 
 
 and upon all that we regard as the victories of human 
 intellect, and the advancement of human happiness, 
 among nations and individuals; — the history of the 
 influence of Grecian learning and its cultivators, from 
 the date of Grecian submission to the Roman eagles, 
 to what is called the Revival of Letters, and the release 
 of Europe from the darkness of the Middle Ages? 
 
 '• When Greece was overpowered by Rome, what 
 was it, that to a certain degree, tamed the barbarians 
 of the Capitol and Circus, and gradually lifted up 
 the Augustan age of Roman literature, and enabled 
 Rome to become an enlightener as well as conqueror? 
 What, but the books, the schools, and the scholars of 
 the subjugated states, where, at the Olympic Games, 
 and in the academies and theatres of Athens, kings and 
 priests, philosophers and warriors, the whole body of the 
 people (instead of sitting, breathless and in rapture, to 
 witness, as in Rome, the combats and slaughter of 
 thousands upon thousands of wild animals, and the 
 bloody wounds and dying pangs of thousands of 
 gladiators and other human victims), had listened to 
 the history of Herodotus, to the odes of Pindar, and to 
 the music of a hundred lyres ; had crowned with 
 garlands the musicians, the poets, the historians, and 
 the winners in feats of manly strength, and in races on 
 foot, on horseback, and in chariots ; had heard the 
 orations of Demosthenes and ^Eschines ; had witnessed 
 the plays of Sophocles, ^Eschylus, and Euripides, and 
 seen the statues of Phidias, and the paintings of 
 
444 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Apelles; had been nurtured in the doctrines of Socrates, 
 and the imaginings of Plato ; and had studied in the 
 severe and multifarious school of Aristotle ? Let the 
 Caesarean and Augustan periods of Roman history give 
 testimonial to the reply ; and let the shades of Cicero, 
 Catullus, Virgil, Horace, and of the succeeding and 
 contemporary ornaments of Roman letters, bow in rever- 
 ence to their masters and inspirers ! Rome advanced 
 with rapidity, both in letters and in arts, after its 
 conquest of Greece; to say nothing of what, under 
 these aspects, it had derived from the same country, 
 before appropriating its political dominion ! 
 
 " And what, in modern Europe, has been the history 
 of the influence of Grecian learning, and of learned 
 Greeks? What event broke in upon the darkness of 
 the Middle Ages, and, by the intellectual light it be- 
 stowed upon Western Europe, caused the spread and 
 renovation of its letters? Who came to the aid of the 
 few scholars and philosophers of Western Europe, that, 
 through so many ages of barbarism, had struggled for 
 better things? Who, but the learned men of Greece ; 
 and when, — but upon the capture of Constantinople 
 by the Turks, and upon the fresh and violent dispersion 
 of Grecian scholars and letters into Italy, into France 
 and Germany, and into England ? And what followed, 
 directly or indirectly, upon this new and westerly ac- 
 quisition of Grecian learning and philosophy? The 
 invention of printing, the voyages of Columbus, the 
 writing and preaching of Luther, the philosophy of 
 Bacon, and the plays of Shakspeare ; for it was — 
 
 ' When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes 
 First reared the stage, — immortal Shakspeare rose !' 
 
 " Rome, in the hour of its greatness, was enlight- 
 ened, softened, and adorned by Greece, and spread, in 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 445 
 
 greater or less degree, the learning and the arts of 
 Greece over the west of Europe. Fifteen hundred 
 years elapse. The Roman empire is become ruins ; 
 but through all the stages of its decay, and still more 
 at the final overthrow of its eastern division, Rome and 
 Italy, themselves enlightened by Greece, continue to 
 spread arts and letters, and civilization, through the 
 west of Europe. Italy, stirring up once more the fires 
 of Greece, adorns, polishes, delights, instructs Germany 
 and Gaul, Spain and Britain. A new world is dis- 
 covered. The kingdoms of Western Europe, the 
 broken members of the Roman grandeur, carry Greek 
 and Roman arts, and letters, and civilization beyond 
 the Atlantic, around the Cape, and even into the 
 Southern Hemisphere. In this later and maritime 
 extension of the classic arts and letters, Britain, if not 
 the foremost, is, now, at least, the most conspicuous 
 and most efficient of the actors. To Britain it now 
 belongs to expand still wider the diffusion of the 
 treasures of the classic ages. Spain, France, Portugal, 
 but chiefly Britain, have already done this largely 
 for America, and made beginnings further still. To 
 Britain, with her commerce and her colonies and 
 fleets, the task is more peculiarly assigned ; and shall 
 she, thus charged with the civilization of the globe, 
 now neglect, upon her own hearths, the Greek and 
 Roman arts and learning, which have raised herself, 
 and have oiven her the means of raising^ the world 
 around her; have installed her the successor of the 
 Greek and Roman glory, heir of the power, and stew- 
 ard of its benefits? An eloquent and enlightened 
 statesman, gentleman, scholar, and even man of genius, 
 in North America*, acknowledged, amid political dis- 
 
 * The late John Randolph, Esq. of Virgioia ; — nor ought the 
 opportuuitj be now omitted (^especiallj- by one who has had much 
 
446 BTJRFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 agreements, the debt never to be redeemed, which 
 bound, under moral and intellectual aspects, his coun- 
 
 personal acquaintance with the just sentiments of the wiser and better- 
 informed part of the population of the United States of North America, 
 and much experience of the personal good feeling and kindness of 
 deportment fnot the least so when an Englishman is the object), 
 among the population generally, to say ; that notions of esteem and 
 reverence, and movements of filial affection ; notions of a reflected 
 honour, a maternal tutoress and pattern, enjoyed by them in and from 
 their parent country, is any thing but uncommon among the former 
 part of the population in review. Quite distinct from any inclina- 
 tion to be her subjects, the wiser and more virtuous part of the people 
 of the United States, cherish, venerate, and emulate, and can warmly, 
 willingly, and eagerly express their attachment to the virtues, 
 the institutions, the learning, and even the language of Great Britain ; 
 and these feelings, too, are shown both in Virginia and all the South, 
 and in New England and all the North j often so little, as between 
 themselves, of any kindred feeling ! Virginia, with a staple of 
 ancient English gentlemen for planters, and New England, with a 
 parentage exclusively English, and emigrant, not through poverty, 
 but through opinion — and opinion only nicely shaded off" from that 
 of the majority whom they left at home ; New England and Virginia 
 cherished from the beginning, and cherish to this hour, all that dis- 
 tinguishes the island of their ancestors. There is a charming anec- 
 dote, of the first ship-load of Puritans which approached the beach 
 at Massachusetts ; that while the boat from which they finally stepped 
 upon it, was yet tossing in the surf, the rowers backed their oars, 
 and the " Pilgrims," as they called themselves, and as their sons are 
 fond of calling them, stood up, and looking back, as it were, over 
 the Atlantic, which still joined them to their native land, they poured 
 forth prayers and praises for the country they were resigning; for its 
 people, its laws, its government; and even for that Church, their 
 partial disagreements with which occasioned their self-exile! From 
 the dictate of similar sentiment, a small farmer, in New England, once 
 opened, to the writer of this note, the casket holding the small archives 
 of his family, to display, with pride in his heart, as with tears in his 
 eyes, a military commission that had belonged to his father, and that 
 bore the autograph of George the Third ! It is fair, and losing nothing, 
 to acknowledge, upon the other hand, that the commendations be- 
 stowed are sometimes more of the heart than of the head ; for that 
 individuals may be heard extolling with enthusiasm the institutions 
 of En:;]and as a whole, and yet decidedly objecting, by piecemeal, 
 to her Church and State, and King, Lords, and Commons I 
 
 A very just distinction, in the meantime, has been drawn by a late 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 447 
 
 try to its parent country, the country of Shakspeare 
 
 and ^lilton, of Bacon and of Xewton ; and shall 
 
 English Minister to the L nited States, between the intellectual and 
 moral rank of the persons sometimes filling the Houses ot' Con2:ress, 
 and directing and intlueucint:: the government ; and that of the superior 
 part of the private population. Besides that the former are drawn 
 from all parts of the country, the rudest along with the most advanced 
 (and distinctions of that kind, both local and personal, are strong in 
 the United States, as in other countries, and in those countries daily 
 growing stronger) ; and besides many other circumstances than those 
 to be referred to, which maj' often tend to bring into political life 
 exactly the persons least of all meriting the station; it must every 
 ■where be the inevitable tendency and inconvenience of exceedingly 
 popular institutions, to throw the power of the state into the hands 
 least virtuous, and least informed ; and to condemn to privacy, inac- 
 tion, and loss of all authority and influence, the wisest and most 
 honest. The most popular choice, either of men or measures, will 
 not always be the wrong one ; but the tendency is to that result ; be- 
 cause in no age nor country will the indiscriminate majority of man- 
 kind be found the wisest in their opinions, the most honourable in their 
 purposes, the most skilful in their labours, and least of all the most 
 accomplished in education, and most refined in manners ; and hence, 
 from such institutions, a country may come to sutler, both in all its 
 interests at home, and in all its character abroad. It is after ^ enturing 
 to suggest explanations of this sort, that the testimony above referred 
 to is now cited: " In that people of oar descendants, as the heirs of our 
 blood, our language, our laws and institutions, we are bound to honour 
 ourselves. The power of these things cannot have been extinguished in 
 a possession of fifty years bv a free people. I have always deplored the 
 tone of disparagement of manners and modes of living and thinking in 
 the United States, with which so many of our modern writers of travels 
 abound, and which tend to disunite two nations whose union would 
 confer incalculable advantages on the civilized world. They are an 
 enlightened and energetic people, to whom mighty destinies appear 
 to be confided. For these reasons, and because I am grateful for the 
 kindness I experienced there, even in a period of great excitement, 
 I can allirm that I speak as dispassionately of their institutions as I 
 should of our own. But I am compelled to express the astonish- 
 ment with which I ascertained, notwithstanding some unequivocal 
 exceptions, that the tone of the House of Representatives, as mem- 
 bers of society, was decidedly below that of the casually-congregated 
 society which we found at or near ^yasbington — one which itself 
 laboured under so manv disadvantages, that, though very respectable 
 in many points, it can nowise compete with such as will be found in 
 
448 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Britain, under the same aspects, ever forget, or ever 
 cease to cultivate her inheritance from Greece and 
 Rome, and the sources to vi^hich she owes her Shak- 
 speare and her Milton, her Bacon and her Newton ? 
 Standing between the points of ancient and modern 
 civilization ; hailed, upon one side, as the artium 
 nutrix, the nursing mother of arts and letters in the 
 New World, shall she forget her position in the Old, 
 and what reared up her own infancy ? So placed that 
 by transmitting the illumination of the past, she pro- 
 ceeds with the work of her predecessors ; spreads still 
 further the light of learning; shall she not only extin- 
 guish or neglect her lamp for herself, but leave or 
 throw into darkness the world which she does, and by 
 her position is called upon to illuminate? Stationed 
 between two worlds, as well in time as in space ; the 
 middle generation between old age and infancy ; plen- 
 teously filled upon the one hand, from the east, by the 
 time past ; and expected to deal forth bounteously, to 
 the west, to the south, and even to the east again, in 
 the time present and time future ; communicating 
 everywhere her language and her liberties, and ex- 
 pected to communicate everywhere her lettere and her 
 science and her arts; cradle of an empire, not of 
 arms, not of bodily subjugation, but of influence, of 
 wisdom, of knowledge, of skill, of mannei*s, and of 
 morals, of which the maturity, spread upon every 
 shore, and penetrating every land, shall embrace the 
 globe universal; may Britain (treacherous to the 
 world no less than to herself) forsake or slight the 
 classics ; — the languages, the thoughts, the researches. 
 
 New York, Boston, or Philadelphia. I found that all the books of 
 travels had underrated the character of the society of the United 
 States on the one hand ; and on the other hand overrated that of the 
 component parts of its House of Representatives. — Speech of Sir 
 George Rose, House of Commons, March 22, 1832. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 449 
 
 and the precepts of countries that have preceded her- 
 self in point of existence, and been the pattern to 
 herself (under so many aspects even yet for her to 
 emulate) in point of excellence ; in arts and in civili- 
 zation? Let the nations, if they will, resign themselves 
 to folly; let them court and obtain for themselves (if it 
 so please them) the return of primeval darkness, and 
 this as lengthened and as profound as they think proper ; 
 but let Britain preserv^e, for herself, and for all others 
 when they will partake of it, the holy fire, the celestial 
 light; and remain, in the midst of her ocean, the 
 pharos of letters, arts, and science, sound learning and 
 sound philosophy; at the same time as the seat of 
 wealth, of strength, and freedom : 
 
 ' Like a great sea-mark, braving every storm, 
 And saving those that eye her!' 
 
 " There is nothing, in the meantime, in all that 
 we have said, that is designed to deny or to defend 
 the possible abuses of Greek scholarship, the possible 
 errors of Greek tuition, or the follies of any Greek 
 pedantry or frivolity. There are abuses in every thing 
 human, and all things are practised amid imperfec- 
 tion ; but, in an age (as we have suggested) so much 
 inclined to the restoration of antique barbarism as that 
 in which we live, it may not be quite idle to endeavour 
 to impress anew, upon English youth, and upon their 
 guardians, the value of Grecian learning. There are 
 persons, for example, who, too uninformed to compre- 
 hend the national importance of a learned national 
 clergy, and especially ignorant and forgetful, that (as 
 I have partly spoken of before) the cause of the Pro- 
 testant Reformation is identical with that of Grecian 
 learning, and of Grecian learning with the Protestant 
 Reformation ; can speak in censure, and as invidiously 
 
450 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 as ignorantly, of certain of our clergy who have distin- 
 S^ished themselves, and perhaps risen into eminence, 
 through reputation for an ardent study of the text of 
 one or more of the Greek dramatists, and the publication 
 of emended editions; while it must be obvious to the 
 most moderately informed, and to those the least given 
 to reflection, that the man most accomplished in Greek 
 learning in general, must be the most capable and 
 useful reader of the Greek Scriptures * ! Finally, and 
 as further appropriate, in the present era of English 
 popular feeling, at least to excite classical inquiry, 
 it may sometimes be useful to bring even to recol- 
 
 * It helps to prove tlie value of Grecian learning to the cause of 
 Protestant divinity, if we call to luind the motive of its patronage bj 
 Sir Thomas More, beyond that of his general devotion to objects of 
 knowledge, letters, and fine taste ; for Sir Thomas, though a zealous, 
 and, in his office, a stern and persecuting Roman Catholic, was so far 
 inclined to the principles of the Reformation, as to be an ecclesi- 
 astical reformer in his own way ; and he held that nothing tended 
 so much to the means of resisting the tyranny of the Court of Rome, 
 as the study of the Greek Scriptures. 
 
 Upon the other hand, if the Greek Scriptures really are to be 
 studied ; that is, to be read with critical advantage ; then, nothing 
 can so fully assist that end, as a critical acquaintance with all the 
 other Greek writings extant. It is the difficulty, in respect of the 
 Hebrew Scriptures, that they are the only Hebrew writings known ; 
 so that no help can be obtained for their interpretation from any 
 other Hebrew source. 
 
 Lastly, the priesthood of every country ought to be a learned 
 priesthood ; that is, they should be men of general learning. It is as 
 scholars, and not as priests, that among ourselves, our priesthood is 
 called a clergy, that is, a body of clerks or scholars; though, as 
 priests, they are clerks, that is to say, scholars, — " in holy orders." 
 The utility, again, of general learning consists in the connexion sub- 
 sisting between all the branches of learning; the light which those 
 branches throw upon each other; and its remedy for the narrow or 
 exclusive views which the exclusive cultivation of any single pursuit 
 (the pursuit of a single branch of learning among others) has too much 
 tendency to instil into the mind and heart of the pursuer. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 451 
 
 lection, as in this epigrammatical quatrain, that there 
 actually are such works as the Iliad and the Odyssey; 
 even though, for that reason, we should not go so far 
 as to agree entirely with the author : 
 
 ' Read Homer once, and you can read no more ; 
 For all books else appear so mean, so poor: 
 Verse will seem prose : but still persist to read, 
 And Homer will be all the books jou need*.' " 
 
 " I must thank you," said Mr. Hartley to Mr. Pau- 
 lett, " for your seasonable evidence in support of my 
 proposition, that a hostility to an education in the 
 classics, and in the Greek classics and Greek learning 
 more particularly, has ever been, what it continues 
 among ourselves, the distinguishing mark of barbarism 
 in taste, and in general objects of sentiment and 
 opinion. Our young audience, in all that we have 
 said, may not have been able to follow us minutely, as 
 to matters of fact and matters of opinion; for there 
 have been points of our discourse which belong, in 
 their fullest form, to the duties and the experience 
 of maturer life. But a large share of all the objects 
 of youthful moral knowledge and cultivation refers 
 to human conduct and human motives in maturer 
 life ; and it is always something to fix right impres- 
 sions, even where those that hear us are not prepared 
 entirely to understand us. Young people may be 
 made to feel at the beginning, what they can be taught 
 to comprehend at another time.'^ 
 
 " I think," said My. Paulett, " that upon questions 
 of this kind, it is sufficient to remember (what has 
 already been so well expressed), that the children of this 
 generation are to be the men and women of the next. 
 
 * Dake of Buckingham's Essay on Poetry. 
 
452 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 They will soon be called upon, in their own persons, 
 to exercise, either publicly or privately, their influence 
 in encouraging or discouraging opinions which, like 
 those we are considering, affect the daily interests of 
 the world." 
 
 " Our backward steps," resumed Mr. Hartley, " are 
 now but few. We did not begin by talking of the 
 moral or religious merits of ancient or modern litera- 
 ture or doctrine, either respectively or comparatively ; 
 but, having first spoken of the manners and customs 
 of barbarous nations of the present day, we traced 
 their principles up to the opinions of antiquity, acknow- 
 ledged and reduced into practice among nations the 
 most refined of old, and even lurking in the sentiments 
 and institutions of nations the most refined of the 
 present day ; and, having illustrated ancient philoso- 
 phy by appeals to ancient and classical literature, we 
 were then drawn into the g^eneral defence of that litera- 
 ture against its opponents, and even into a censure of 
 the modern literature which those opponents so com- 
 monly prefer. Our chief and principal point, however, 
 was to show (and, here, even my quotations have 
 given us assistance), that while classical literature has 
 independent charms and recommendations, and while 
 (so much is it the foundation of that literature) even 
 modern literature cannot be fully felt and understood 
 without an acquaintance with it ; that acquaintance is 
 also as indispensable to the understanding of ancient 
 science, as an acquaintance with ancient science is at 
 the same time indispensable to the understanding of 
 ancient literature. More than all, we had in view, to 
 show this connexion of ancient and modern poetry, 
 and even of modern speech and conversation, with 
 the principles of ancient science, and the fancies 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 453 
 
 of ancient philosophy and genius. We showed the 
 relation of all these things to the liberal fruits of 
 classical reading; and that not only a large proportion 
 of our best English literature is more or less unintelli- 
 gible without it, but it is needed if we are really to 
 understand a considerable part of what, in the com- 
 monest situations, we daily hear from others, and even 
 speak with our own lips." 
 
 " You have established beyond all controversy," 
 replied Mr. Paulett, " the importance of Greek and 
 Roman learning, not only to the learned professions, 
 but to the whole of that education among us which is 
 called either liberal or genteel ; and I am sure it is 
 your opinion and sentiment, that the same learning 
 should find its way, as far as circumstances permit, 
 upon the forms of our most ordinary schools. In every 
 country, and whatever the character of the national 
 education, the education of the whole nation, how 
 unequal soever in degree, should always be the same in 
 its complexion. Other reasons apart, this ought every- 
 where to be the case, in order that the whole nation, 
 knowing or at least feeling alike, should think and 
 reason alike, in the same manner." 
 
 This was the close of the last conversation at Bur- 
 ford Cottage, in which I heard Mr. Hartley take a 
 part ; and, in truth, that gentleman, the same day, 
 bade a short but yet reluctant farewell to the family, 
 and drove toward London: where politics and fashion; 
 law, government, and gaiety; science, literature, and 
 art: the play, the opera, and Almack's, were said to 
 be now in their high season ; and now uniting their 
 own life and bustle with that of the daily trade and 
 commerce of Eno:land's central and roval city, and 
 prime and crowded seaport ! 
 
454 BURFORD COTTAGEj AND 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 Ah ! yet awhile that pretty note prolong. 
 
 MARSH. 
 
 Another fortnight carried us into days warm and 
 lengthened, though not without frosts by night, and 
 often with snows by day. The coppices were growing 
 purple with buds, and then opening into the softest 
 green; the flowers, yellow, white, and blue, were 
 smiling in the fields ; the almond blossomed in the 
 gardens; and the neighbourhood of the houses began 
 to be too sultry for me to remain in it. Upon the 
 other hand, the whole of animal as well as vegetable 
 life was wakening. Clouds of gnats were to be seen 
 over the pools ; the ants were moving, and even the 
 bees beginning to come abroad; and innumerable 
 w orms, and tiny insects and reptiles, displayed them- 
 selves in every direction. At the beginning of this 
 vernal feast, I went no further from the houses than to 
 the gardens, where I accompanied the gardeners in their 
 labours, and grew fat upon the grubs and worms which 
 their spades or hoes or rakes were incessantly bringing 
 to the surface. But, soon, even a life like this was cloy- 
 ing and relaxing; and I secluded myself in remoter 
 situations, and took my chance of food at the imme- 
 diate hand of overflowing Nature. I knew the regular 
 vicissitudes of summer and winter; and, while I en- 
 joyed, with gratitude, at this time, the earliest gifts 
 of the former, I remembered, with at least equal grati- 
 
I 
 
 ITS ROBIN-RED-EREAST. 455 
 
 tude, the help which had been afforded me during 
 the latter; and reposed a grateful confidence in the 
 prospect of sharing it again, when need should be ! 
 
 But, while thousands upon thousands of little birds? 
 of a hundred different species, were now flitting through 
 the air, and filling it with their cheerful songs and 
 cries, I continued to look in vain, among them all, for 
 my lost mate I Idle and senseless pertinacity, perhaps ; 
 foolish hoping against hope; obstinate persistence in 
 the indulgence of a dream ! Truly, it may have been 
 all this; and the reader, wiser, or less interested in 
 the delusion, or less anxious to be deceived, than my. 
 self; may have the sagacity to penetrate the entire 
 improbability of her restoration to me, and the base- 
 less folly with which, day by day, I go on expecting 
 it, and ever fancying that it may happen, and often 
 believing that it is nigh ! If the reader's part is wise, I 
 must leave him, undisputed, the pleasure of his wisdom ! 
 For me, my best enjoyment is in the perpetuation of 
 my folly ; and who knows but, in spite of the opi- 
 nions of the wise, I shall one day discover her, beside 
 some shaded limpid run, that crosses the woodland 
 path, where the branches echo to the voices of the 
 turtle-doves, and where the cowslips and the primroses, 
 the blue-bells and the violets and scarlet strawberries, 
 make neighbourhood with the lilies of the valley ; or 
 perched aloft, upon the spray of some snow-white haw- 
 thorn-tree, and gazing all around, in search of her 
 long-lost husband? 
 
 Forgetful, in the meantime, from moment to moment, 
 of the rooted sorrow of my heart ; indulging, sometimes, 
 in a song, in the midst of which I stop myself, upon 
 mournful recollection ; jocund and revelling, till I half 
 rebuke myself, amid the temptations of the joys of 
 
456 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 spring ; I yet survey with pleasure the good fortune of 
 my friends, even while pining inly at the griefs that 
 have fallen upon myself! My retreat, too, is neither 
 so distant, nor so rigid, as to prevent me from occa- 
 sionally returning to Burford Cottage and its neigh- 
 bourhood, nor as to have left me ignorant of any of the 
 village or even family events that have marked the 
 rising year. 
 
 At the Cottage, toward the middle of February, I 
 found Richard and Emily wonderfully busy, writing, 
 drawing, making harmonious verses, spoiling numerous 
 half sheets of paper; full of plots and mysteries and 
 secrets; giggling, and whispering, ever and anon, to 
 their papa, or to their mamma; and, after a time, I 
 found that the festival of the Twelfth Cake was now to 
 be succeeded by that of Saint Valentine, and that a 
 new species of lot or billet was in preparation ; not, 
 this time, to make kings and c[ueens, but to make what 
 are called Valentines, and with the same share of 
 drollery. Emily was loading with satirical compli- 
 ments a painted sheet which she proposed directing to 
 the silliest young lout in all the country; and Richard 
 was praising, for good nature and grace of carriage, the 
 most awkward and most mischief-making little girl in 
 the whole list of his acquaintance ! 
 
 " But what is the meaning of a ' Valentine,' papa,"/' 
 said Richard ; " and how did the custom of sendin.g 
 ' Valentines* begin?*' 
 
 " I fancy," replied Mr. Paulett, " that to answer ^ou, 
 we must go back to a very early date indeed ; but, for 
 all our present purposes, it may be sufficient if "e 
 only reach to that of the ancient Romans." 
 
 " I observe, papa," interrupted Richard, " that long 
 as the ancient Romans have been passed away, and 
 
ITS ROBI\-RED-BREAST. 457 
 
 far as is England from the city of Rome; the name of 
 Roman is continually mentioned, whenever we talk of 
 English history or customs ^'^ 
 
 " Nor is this difficult to account for," answered 
 Mr. Paulett, " when you recollect the extent, and 
 power, and duration of the Roman government; its 
 maintenance in England for five hundred years; and 
 the depository which, during its greatness, it made 
 itself, of the customs of the east and west, to diffuse 
 over its ample territory. But, as to the popular or 
 ancient customs and notions pertaining to the season 
 of the Christian festival of Saint Valentine, I believe 
 w^e must refer their origin to that ancient festival of 
 the Romans, called Saturnalia, of whatsoever date the 
 origin of the latter may be thought." 
 
 *' Then it is very ancient indeed," said Richard ^ 
 " Very ancient indeed," repeated Mr. Paulett; ''and 
 belonging to very superstitious ideas, and very barba- 
 rian, but, at the same time, very religious manners. I 
 shall explain it thus. You know that the doctrine of 
 a Valentine is twofold. In the first place, there is a 
 billet declaring an object to be a Valentine; and in 
 the second, the first person whom it might be lawfully 
 possible for you to marry, and whom you may see 
 upon Saint Valentine's morning, is the person who, it 
 is jocularly said, you really are to marry. Now, the 
 first of these things belongs to the ancient superstition 
 of lots, and the second to the equally ancient super- 
 stition of omens; but both of which belong to a mis- 
 taken piety, because both the lot and the omen were 
 believed in, only as false religion ascribed their occur- 
 rence to divine direction !" 
 
 " O papa/* interrupted, again, Richard, *' I never 
 
 X 
 
458 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 thought that there was any thing- so serious as these 
 things, in the history of such nonsense as Valentines,?" 
 " All ancient customs," answered Mr. Paulett, " have 
 a serious history belonging to them ; because all their 
 origins are religious. At the feast of the Saturnalia it 
 was the custom to draw lots for husbands and wives ; 
 as at the previous festival, which is now hidden under 
 our Twelfth Day, it was the custom to draw lots for 
 officers of government. In ages and countries which 
 were without the use of letters, other things than writ- 
 ten billets, bearing the names of men and women, were 
 put into the urns ; as now, among ourselves, we some- 
 times use ballots, or ' little balls,' upon similar occa- 
 sions. But, when and where the use of letters was 
 known, there, written billets were certainly used ; and 
 it is thus that I suppose our modern paper 'Valen- 
 tines' to be sent as if they had been drawn from the* 
 urn, and as if notifying to the receiver the lot that has 
 fallen upon him or her. Pleasing associations, these 
 (the whole of these), as uniting the times present with 
 times past; as joining us with all our fathers, and 
 making them still alive ; as presenting us with monu- 
 ments of human history and ways of thinking and 
 acting, and binding us, within at least the figurative 
 bands of similitude, to the generations that have gone 
 by ; pleasing, more especially, when, by our light and 
 superficial method of retaining them, if there was any 
 thing bitter beneath the sweet, we know how to keep 
 the sweet, and yet leave out the bitter ; or, if there was 
 something offensive in the substance, to preserve only 
 the image and memorial ! For, so barbarian, after 
 all, was this custom respecting marriages, that it is 
 not only to be condemned, but might seem of incre- 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 459 
 
 dible existence, were it not for its religious explanation, 
 under which it becomes as reasonable as the fire, or 
 water, or other similar criminal ordeals or trials ; and 
 were it not that certain religious persons among our- 
 selves have actually revived, and do still continue it, at 
 this day "-. To us, these ancient practices appear in- 
 sensate, because we regard them as so many references 
 of the most precious things to chance. But the heathen 
 world had no belief in chance. Its creed was either a 
 profound fatalism, or else an intimate divine direction. 
 It thought everything either directed or ordained ; and 
 that all which was left for man was to seek out and 
 obey the divine will or ordinance, as the case might 
 be; in the same manner as, upon Cjuestions of fact, in 
 criminal trials, it resorted to divine knowledge." 
 
 Here, the children, whom the mention of Twelfth 
 Day, and kings and queens (things which, though now 
 more than a month old, they had not yet quite forgot- 
 ten), had partly distracted their thoughts from Valen- 
 tines, interrupted their papa, for the sake of discussing 
 some new point in the history of that festive celebra- 
 tion ; and more particularly because, in truth, they 
 had caught a glimpse about something mysterious, 
 connected with that * Feast of the Kings,' or Fete des 
 Rois, of the French calendar, in (perhaps) the common 
 sign of " The Three Kings,'' and in certain tales of the 
 " Three Kings of Colen." 
 
 " Papa," said Richard, " Scripture says nothing 
 
 * Marrying by lot (the drawing of the lots being attended bv 
 prayer and other religions observances) is the established nsage of 
 the Protestant sect, called Moravians, or United Brethren ; thougli 
 it« enforcement has been lately resisted, in England, with success, in 
 more than one example, among the wealthier members of the small 
 community. 
 
 x2 
 
460 BURFORD COTTAGEj AND 
 
 about the ' Wise-men from the East ;' so, I suppose 
 that ' Colen ' is the name of that particular place in 
 the East, from which the Wise-men came ?" 
 
 " But Scripture, Richard," answered his papa, " says 
 nothing, either about ' Kings/ or about either the 
 Kings, or the Wise-men, being three in number. Here 
 are many particulars therefore, for which we must 
 look only to tradition." 
 
 " But * Colen/ " continued Richard, " may easily 
 have been the particular place in * the East?' " 
 
 " Not at all, dear boy/' said Mr. Paulett ; " for Colen, 
 which is the French Cologne, or the Italian Colon, or 
 Colonna, is no place but the city of Cologne in Germany ; 
 a city remarkable for many antiquated peculiarities, 
 and which, though a good Catholic city, has, among 
 other peculiarities, so many religious ones, that it has 
 been said to follow ' a religion of its own.' Its chief 
 pride, in the meantime, of all, is its possession, as relics 
 in its cathedral, of the skeletons of the Three Wise- 
 men from the East, or the Three Holy Kings ; hence 
 denominated, as should be understood, the Three 
 Kings of Colen." 
 
 "But how/' said Emily, stung with the liveliest 
 curiosity, and expecting to find a flaw in the history 
 of the relics; " how and when were these skeletons 
 brought from the East to the city of Cologne?" 
 
 " The story told/' said her papa, " is only this ; that 
 they were originally sent from the East to Rome, by the 
 celebrated Empress Helena ; that the Gothic conque- 
 ror Alaric transferred them from Rome to Milan ; 
 and that, by one means or other, some ancient arch- 
 bishop of Cologne had the good fortune to succeed in 
 removing them from Milan to Cologne. Let them 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 461 
 
 have come thither, however, as they may, their pre- 
 sence has long been the chief pride of the Colognese; 
 whose attachment, however, to every thing which be- 
 longs to their city, is distinguished and exclusive in 
 the extreme. We are told, by one English traveller ^^j 
 that a Colognese lady, speaking of the cathedral, 
 always called it her ' cradle,^ and the Three Kings, 
 her ' fathers;' and by anothert, that the Colognese 
 'care not the hair of an ass's ear, whether their houses 
 be gloomy and ill-contrived ; their pavements over- 
 grown with weeds and their shops half choked up 
 with filthiness;' provided the skeletons of Melchior, 
 Balthazar, and Caspar (for these are the several 
 names which the les^encl bestows upon them) are but 
 suitably lodged ; and ' nothini^-, to be sure,' he adds, 
 ' can be richer than the shrine which contains these 
 precious relics ;' and the skeletons themselves, as he 
 tells us, are 'crowned with jewels, and filigreed with 
 gold.' ' The chapel,' he jDroceeds, ' which contains 
 these beatified bones, is placed in a dark extremity of 
 the cathedral. Several golden lamps gleam along the 
 polished marbles with which it is adorned, and afford 
 just light enough to read the monkish inscription — 
 
 * Corpora sanctorum recubant hie Terna Magornm : 
 Ex his sablatum nihil est alibive locatum ;' 
 
 an inscription in which we thus find them called rather 
 Three Magi, or Three Wise-men, than Three Kings; 
 while our latter traveller treats them as both together, 
 or, as the ' Three Wise Sovereigns.' The shrine is 
 ' not only enriched with barbaric pearl and gold, but 
 covered with cameos and intaglios of the best antique 
 sculpture,' ranged along with statues of evangelists 
 and saints." 
 
 * 3Irs. Jameson. + Mr. Beckford. 
 
462 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 " But, papa," said Richard, " which were they really? 
 Magi or Kings ?" 
 
 " Scripture," returned Mr. Paulett, '' gives us little 
 reason to think them Kings (and even much the con- 
 trary), any more than to suppose their number to be 
 three; but I imagine that it has been held at least to 
 countenance both those propositions, in that part of 
 the recital where it speaks of their ' treasures,' and 
 makes their offerings three in species ; that is, ' gold, and 
 frankincense, and myrrh*.' It seems, also, from other 
 authorities than those of these travellers, that the legend 
 is very precise as to the personal description of each of 
 theThreeKings,and as to the particular offering of each. 
 It tells us, that Melchior was an aged man, with length 
 of beard ; Balthazar, a Moor, with a large spreading 
 beard ; and Gaspar, or Jasper, a fair and beardless 
 youth ; and, again, that Melchior offered the gold ; 
 Gaspar, or Jasper, the frankincense ; and Balthazar 
 myrrh. For my own part, I believe that it would be 
 possible to explain why these persons should be three; 
 why they should be equally called Magi or Wise-men, 
 or Kings; and why there should be these differences 
 in their ages, and in their complexions f." 
 
 * " Now, when Jesus was born in Bethleliem of Judea, behold, 
 there came Wise-men from the East to Jerusalem." 
 
 " And when thej were come into the house, they saw the young 
 child, with Mary his mother, and fell down and worshipped him. 
 And when they had opened their treasures, they presented to him 
 gifts ; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh." — Matthew, ii. 1,11. 
 
 t There must be much more to be learned than is perhaps yet 
 explored, concerning the religious history of the city of Cologne, and 
 the history of its Three Holy Kings. The name should imply the 
 city of the Dove or Pigeon ; that bird regarded as of such general 
 sanctity throughout the East, and the national veneration for which 
 still discloses itself in the most impressive manner, as we proceed 
 eastward from Germany, through Muscovy, Russia, Tartary, Persia, 
 
ITS ROBLV.RED-BREAST. 463 
 
 •'' You know, papa/' said Emily, " that in the pic. 
 ture which we saw, of the Wise-men's Offerings, one 
 was an old man, and one was black, and one a 
 youth ; and all were offering-, besides other gifts, their 
 diadems or crowns?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," answered Mr. Paulett, " it is always 
 in this manner that the subject is painted. But we 
 have said enou^jh of this; and need only further call 
 to mind, that as to the King and Queen of the Twelfth 
 Calces, and as we have already mentioned, an entirely 
 different ori^-in is sometimes ascribed ; and that the 
 whole affair of the Twelfth Xi^^ht is manao'ed other- 
 wise in France than it ever was in England. In 
 France, a single bean is put into the cake ; the gen- 
 tleman who happens to receive the slice of cake 
 containin"- the bean is Kino-; and the Kinsf chooses 
 his Queen for that occasion, and gives the cake to the 
 same company the following year." 
 
 Mr. Paulett ceased to speak, and I had not listened 
 without the sensation of a piercing pain, to the (to me) 
 melancholy revival of the memory of the late Twelfth 
 Day ; that day so full of evil ; of evil in itself, to me 
 and my poor starving mate; and so productive of 
 evil to us both, far more lasting than the day, and never 
 yet repaired I But, now (and not a little to my parti- 
 
 Asia Minor, and so many other countries. Cologne despises Berlin 
 for its want of antiquity, and is itself in a high degree antique. It 
 has " a religion," it is said, " of its own ;" and that religion is pro- 
 bably an antique Paganism, only scantily covered, even now, with the 
 Christianity which was forced upon it by the sword of Charlemagne. 
 But its Three Holy Kin^s (notwithstanding their skeletons), if not 
 immortal, seem at least to enjoy a reputation for long life. In the 
 sixteenth century, Marsilius Ficinus advised, to promote longevity, 
 an astrological consultation every seven years, and the use of the 
 means of the Three Holy Kings ; which means he explained to be, gold, 
 frankincense, and myrrh. 
 
464 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 cular relief), Emily and Richard, somewhat satisfied as 
 to the Three Kings of Colen, returned to their questions 
 concerning Valentines ; and, this time, ]Mr. Paulett 
 explained with more minuteness the connexion which 
 he imputed between Saint Valentine's Day and the 
 Roman Saturnalia, 
 
 " The Saturnalia,*' he said, " were the festivities, the 
 ceremonies, and the annual customs of the feast of 
 Saturnia, or of Juno ; called, with reference to this 
 feast, Juno Februata. The day was ihe fifteenth day 
 of February ; and upon that day males and femaleiv 
 drew marriage lots. This was the custom with Rome 
 Pagan. 
 
 " When Rome received Christianity, the cessation 
 of the festival, with all its rites and practices, was 
 necessarily aimed at by the Church ; and, at least in 
 process of time, it happened that the Romish calendar 
 afforded a saint's-day so near to the day of Juno or 
 Saturnia, that a hope presented itself of turning the 
 popular attention from the one day to the other. The 
 saint's-day was that of Saint Valentine, or Valentinus, 
 a Roman Christian martyr, who was beheaded, or was 
 said to have been beheaded, upon the fourteentli day 
 of February, in the year 271. 
 
 " Xow, the people being still inveterately attached to 
 the drawing of their February lots (whether for mar- 
 riage only, or for other objects also), the Church 
 proposed to them, that upon Xh^ fourteenth of February, 
 or feast of Saint Valentine, they should draw, indeed, 
 lots, and lots that were as theretofore; but, instead of 
 names of husbands and wives (and not, as now, with 
 us, upon Twelfth Day, the titles or names of king and- 
 queen, and originally of other dignitaries of state), 
 the names of saints, who should be their protectors. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 465 
 
 for the year, against sickness, charms, and misfortunes 
 of all kinds. This direction, perhaps, of the drawini^ 
 of lots, was not wholly new. Paganism, perhaps, 
 had drawn for annual guardian deities at the same 
 time, and in the same manner ; but, he this as it may, 
 the attempt to abolish the drawing- for husbands and 
 wives was never wholly successful ; and modern Eu- 
 rope retains this part of the Saturnalia, or of the lots 
 of the feast of Saint Valentine; but, of this part itself, 
 only the light and innocent shadow comprised ^vithin 
 our ' Valentines.' " 
 
 '' If," continued Mr. Paulett, " I am right, in this 
 explanation of the originals of our paper ' Valentines,' 
 I shall next adventure upon that of the personal 
 ' Valentines,' which are said to be made such by being 
 first seen upon the morning of Saint Valentine's Day. 
 In this, there is nothing but the common feature of 
 the doctrine of omens, only applied to the particular 
 occasion of the day, such as the day was, under the 
 ancient festival. Ancient superstition attached the 
 highest and most conclusive ominous importance to 
 the first thing seen in the morning; and it was but a 
 consequence, or particular application, of the general 
 doctrine, to believe, that upon a day sacred to mar- 
 riage, the first unmarried person, seen by an unmar- 
 ried person, should be the individual divinely marked 
 and pointed out for marriage. By the same notion 
 of omens in the general, and expectation of guides 
 for human conduct, preternaturally afforded, you 
 must interpret what voyagers and travellers tell you of 
 the worship for the day, paid by the Javanese to what- 
 ever animal they see first in the morning; and as a 
 same sort of superstition (if properly instructed) you 
 will interpret what is said of Socrates's Demon ; for 
 
 x3 
 
466 BURFORD COTTAGE, A>;D 
 
 Socrates, like his Athenian brethren, believed in these 
 supernatural assistances; and it will prove nothing 
 against the value of the general cast of that philoso- 
 pher's ideas, to admit, that in this particular, and in 
 common with so many other persons and nations, of 
 piety, understanding, learning, and sound reasoning 
 upon other subjects, and especially in common with 
 his countrymen at large, he was addicted to that 
 error •^. But, concerning omens, as personal Valen- 
 tines, I shall offer but one or two further considera- 
 tions. In certain predicaments, it is jocularly said 
 among us, ' You will not be married this year;' 
 and I think that the expression refers to the same 
 Saturnalian period for the adjustment of marriages. 
 The Saturnalia occurred but once a year, and this in 
 the month of February, or close of the ancient twelve- 
 month. Now, if antiquity had any list of ominous 
 mischances which forbade the expectation of a favour- 
 able lot at the succeeding Saturnalia; then, it is plain, 
 that the chance might be lost for ' the year,* — for the 
 whole year — which is what our saying implies. Add 
 to this, too (and assuredly we repeat it from our fathers, 
 with the same reference to lots, as showing either the 
 divine ordinance, or divine will), that ' marriages are 
 7nade in heavenf.' I might, perhaps, go safely further 
 
 * The attachment to this demon-worship, or devotion to the idea 
 of help from so imaginary an agency, is properly what St. Paul 
 charges upon the Athenians, where, in our English translation, he is 
 made to say, " I perceive that in all things ye are too superstitious." 
 Pagan Athens was a city eminently religious, but religious after its 
 own Pagan fashion. 
 
 t It might be straining the tissue of derivative expressions too 
 tightly, to say that we owe to these customs also, the expression that 
 " marriage is a lottery ;" yet it is certain that, in Rome, the lots of 
 the Saturnalia, sooner or later, gave birth io general lotteries, such as 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 467 
 
 with the subject, and infer, that the ancient custom of 
 choosing husbands and wives in February, is the origin 
 of our modern popular custom of marrying at Easter, 
 or in the month of March, which follows close upon 
 February, and is, for the most part, the time of Easter ; 
 the time, perhaps, for celebrating the marriages de- 
 termined by lot at the preceding festival." Thus 
 finished Mr. Paulett; and, as he finished, I flew 
 away. 
 
 Soon, however, among my village .friends, I was 
 enabled to witness, not only the preparation of Valen- 
 tines, but the celebration of a real marriage. Great events 
 took place in the families of Gubbins and Mowbray. 
 Farmer Mowbray, as I have shown, instead of tempt- 
 ing the wide ocean, and a distant wilderness, had 
 remained upon his well-cultivated paternal acres, and 
 was rearing his children under their native heavens; 
 and, as to old Mr. and Mrs. Gubbins, a comfortable 
 legacy came to their share, to smooth the evening of 
 their days, upon the receipt of which Mr. Gubbins shut 
 up his school-room, white-washed the front of his 
 antique dwelling, new planted the court-yard, and put 
 new benches in the porch, on which, at the close of 
 many a summer's day, he now promised himself that he 
 and his wife should sit, and enjoy a friendly gossip with 
 their neighbours. Here, too (while to a younger man 
 he left the future charge and benefit of his late scho- 
 lastic occupation), he reckoned upon pursuing, at better 
 leisure, his studies of the stars, and of the beasts and 
 flowers of the field, and birds of the air; and of the 
 
 have been called the beginnings of all the lotteries of modern 
 Europe. In the time of Nero, there were lotteries at the Saturnalia, 
 in which all the lots or tickets were sore to be prizes, but prizes of 
 the most varioos value : some of six slaves ; and some of s,'i\ Jiies. 
 
468 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 Power which made and holds in being the birds and 
 the beasts, and the flowers, and the stars* ! 
 
 * It was at one of these gossips in the porch, that a listener at 
 Farmer Mowbray's challenged Mr. Gubbins, upon a point occurring 
 incidentally (see page 158, chapter xii) in one of those discourses 
 of his upon the stars, which have filled some preceding chapters : 
 " I beg pardon," said he, " Mr. Gubbins ; but I have been puzzling 
 myself, ever since you told us the number of planets at present 
 known, how it could be, that as you said, the ancients reckoned 
 seven ? I know that the Earth is one, to add to the five other ancient 
 planets; but where did or could the ancients find the seventh?" — 
 *' "Worthy neighbour," said Mr. Gubbins, " I believe that thy ques- 
 tion is soon answered. In the first place, the ancients (or at least so 
 many of the ancients as ran with that popular astronomy which 
 furnished and still furnishes the common language and notions of 
 mankind) never thought of the Earth as a planet ; that is, as a moving 
 body; and they would rather have made the moon a. sixth planet than 
 the Earth, as in reality they did : and yet they counted seven planets. 
 In the next place, those seven planets, or seven stars (as it is also 
 common to call them), so counted by antiquity, consisted in the five 
 usually spoken of as moving round the Earth, or round the sun, with 
 the addition of the suti and moon ; and hence it is that Milton (always 
 the poet of the antique and the popular in the view of nature) 
 addresses those five planets, as, 
 
 ' Ye, five other wandering fires ;' 
 
 the sun and moon themselves (in the old and popular astronomy) 
 necessarily falling under the definition of planets, or ' wandering 
 fires;' that is, of revolvers, like Jupiter, Venus, and the rest, round 
 the fixed Earth ; and thus you will observe that these seven planets 
 (anciently or popularly so called) give names to our seven days 
 of the week, and to so many other sevens, of things which I could 
 name ; beginning, as to the days of the week, with Sunday, or the day 
 of the planet sun ; Monday, or the day of the planet moon ; and the 
 rest. But, to all this, again, there belong volumes of explanations ; 
 and whatwouldst thee say, if I were to further add, that the ancients, 
 to suit another analogy than that of the sevens, could also count the 
 planets as nine; and say, as, sometimes, we still say, after them, ' the 
 sun, moon, and seven stars ' or planets ; that is, by counting, as I 
 venture to believe, the sun and moon twice over : first, as celestial 
 bodies upon the same level, as to their wanderings, with the ' five 
 other wandering fires ;' and next, as ranking, in regard to their 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 469 
 
 But nothing which I have yet mentioned, was the 
 nearest of all that happened, to the hearts of ]Mr. Gub- 
 
 imporfance (even if they knew not the comparative magnitudes), 
 almost infinitely above those, and as standing, figuratively, for the 
 whole heavens. And, talking of magnitudes," he proceeded, " dost 
 thee remember, neighbour, that according to our modern astronomy, 
 the whole together, of what we now call planets (the six, including 
 the Earth, that were anciently known, though not so called, and 
 the five of modern discovery), would not, if resolved into one mass, 
 exceed the eight-hundredth part of the mass of the great sun ? For 
 the rest, in the ancient numerical mode of philosophizing, whether 
 the philosophical and sacred number chosen were seven, or five, or 
 nine, or ten, or anv of the others ; the same number was found or 
 forced in all things universally, natural, intellectual, moral. It is 
 the same, for example, with the expression of the * seven senses' as 
 with that of the ' seven stars' or planets ; for each is questionable, 
 and yet there are at least conventional ways of justifying both. 
 
 " It is endless," concluded Mr. Gubbins, " to touch upon these 
 .subjects ; otherwise, I would express and give grounds for my belief, 
 that the ancients, all the while, knew as much about the aumherjive, 
 for the old planets, as ourselves ; and could count them five, when 
 it suited their arrangements. Again : the word star is the direct 
 antithesis of the word planet ; the first, with literalness, expressly 
 and solely meaning a fixed body, and the second a ivanderhig or 
 moving one ; and yet (with some show of reason, too), we can call the 
 planets 5f«/-s (though not the ■iis.vi planets)-, and speak of the evening 
 and morning stars, jxi'ii as freely as of the dog-6iar. The ancients, at 
 the same time, knew, as well as ourselves, that in reality the stars are 
 no more fixed than ihe planets ; or, three centuries, at least, before 
 the Christian era, it was known, or else believed, as much as now (see 
 page 210, chapter xv), — and how many centuries before is quite 
 another question, — that the fixed stars traversed their stellar orbits; 
 though, from the immensity of the distances from our human eyes, the 
 places of the stars in their orbits, to antiquity as to ourselves, produced 
 no different appearance, the whole space of an orbit itself seeming to 
 ns and to them as but a point ! The orbits of the stars, too, have their 
 fixed places in the heavens ; but so have those of the planets ; and 
 again, the entire heaven, stars, and stellar orbits, and heavenly 
 orbit, altogether, are moving. Antiquity had a reckoning of a great- 
 est or stellar year, or revolution of the whole heaven, or whole starrj" 
 system, round the Earth ; which was completed only in twenty-four 
 thousand solar years, or with a motion of fifty-four seconds in the 
 year, through the three hundred and sixty degrees of the horizon. 
 But, though, ill reality, the stars themselves are moving bodies ; 
 
470 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 bins and his dame. The wedding for which I have 
 prepared the reader was their jubilee. Their beloved 
 daughter Mary was married to the eldest son of 
 Farmer Mowbray. This, to them, was a lasting joy, 
 a perennial consolation ; but, for me, I speak only 
 of the solemnities and revels of the day. Spring-time 
 as it was, I yet picked crumbs at the bridal breakfast of 
 my early patroness. I sung and flitted along the hedges 
 and palings of the fields and village, as she went to 
 church. I entered the church, and rejoiced in the 
 shining sun wdiich lighted up the rural altar, and was 
 reflected from the wdiite surplice of the priest, and from 
 the golden letters of the two tables of the Ten Com- 
 mandments. I lifted my voice, as well as the rest, 
 when all the happy company returned through the 
 churchyard-gate, and when the bells, as they w^ent, 
 rang out their merry peal. I attended them to Farmer 
 Mowbray's; and, at noon, entered, sometimes the win- 
 dow, and sometimes the door, during their plentiful 
 though rustic dinner. 
 
 Cobbler Dykes, in a new coat, with his wife in 
 
 moving, not only upon their axes, but from one place to another ; in 
 some instances (see page 211) one star round another ; in all around 
 tlie spaces of their orbits ; and (as may be believed) in the whole 
 collective body round the entire circuit of the heavens : yet, to oar 
 ordinary vision and contemplation, they appear, and must always 
 appear, to he fixed ; and this appearance occasions and justifies tlie 
 name : while, as to the planets, their appearance is as iucontestably 
 moving ; a description applicable as well to the moon (which we our- 
 selves call a planet, though but a secondary one) as to the five 
 ancient and primary planets ; and also to the svn, if we did but still 
 believe, what mere sense will always teach, and what we shall always 
 speak of as believing; not that the earth moves round the sun, but 
 the sun round Hertha, or the Earth ; or what, in one sense, is to be 
 called the ivorld: 
 
 ' He never tires, nor stops to rest ; 
 But round the world he shines.' " 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 471 
 
 her own wedding gown, was of the party. He had 
 made new shoes for the dancers, and he now contri- 
 buted to the pleasures of the scene by singing his best 
 songs. Others, too, had their songs, in turn with 
 Cobbler Dykes ; but none surpassed him either in 
 clearness of voice, or taste or ear for music, or even in 
 height, or depth, or in quickness of moral feeling in the 
 choice of songs for the occasion. Like an artful min- 
 strel of days past, or like a courtly laureate of the 
 present, he knew how to make his music, though 
 music of old date and general application, fall with 
 jjeculiar sweetness upon the ears and hearts of ail 
 those of the company whom it was most fitting to 
 consider on such a dav ; and even to render it a means 
 of raising them, not only in the estimation of them- 
 selves, but in that of those around them likewise, and 
 thence a source of gratitude as to himself Out of 
 the common ballads of the time, or of the time past, 
 he contrived to form, in substance, an epithalamium ; 
 and to Vjring, as of olden days, the Muses from their 
 Helicon*, to sing the wedding-song of my Mary. So 
 much are men indebted to their poets, and to the 
 masters of their music, that whatever, for the instant, 
 may be their feelings or their situations, they find 
 ready for them, in the works of their bards, either 
 words or cadences in which to give utterance to the 
 heavings of their breasts ; and, this day, as on so 
 many others, I had occasion to remark, that man is 
 himself a musical and singing animal, and thence, no 
 doubt, so much of his sympathy for singing birds; 
 for it strikes me that men are attracted toward all 
 animals just in proportion as the habits, the manners, 
 the wants, the enjoyments, the joys and the sorrows, 
 
 * " Deraigrant Heliconae dtas.'' 
 
472 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 and particularly the modes of expression of each are 
 in resemblance with their own ; and that so, they listen 
 to singing- birds, and love them, because birds sing 
 like men, and men sing like birds ! How often do I 
 see and hear their children dancing, skipping, and 
 singing, and think that they are like so many young 
 birds ; and (so little does even their years change them) 
 the other night (even at midnight) I was awakened, in 
 my tree, beside the village lane, by four rustics, in jean 
 jackets and straw hats; singing, in parts, as they 
 wound their way ; and singing, as they drew near 
 enough for me to distinguish the tune and words, 
 what ? Why— 
 
 " Vital spark of heavenly flame !" 
 
 They surround, too, for their songs, the little birds 
 with something like a religious veneration ; making 
 them co-partners in the universal worship; and noting, 
 with sympathy, and with a tender rivalry, that 
 
 " The birds full nigh thine altar may 
 Have place to sit and sing." 
 
 But I have said, that upon this occasion, Cobbler 
 Dykes, by the choice of his songs, found the means of 
 offering a grateful and honest flattery, and of inspiring 
 a thankful return, where the time chiefly invited and 
 rendered valuable and natural both the one and other. 
 There were the bride and bridegroom, and the father 
 and mother of each. In allusion to the character and 
 circumstances of Farmer Mowbray, and even of the 
 bridegroom, and especially with reference to the day, 
 he remembered an old song, in which he sung : 
 
 " I could trace back the time to a far distant date, 
 
 Since ray forefathers toiled in this field ; 
 And the farm I now hold on your honour's estate, 
 
 Is the same that my grandfather tilled ; 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 473 
 
 He, dying, beqaeath'd to his son a good name, 
 
 W hich unsullied descended to me ; 
 For mj child I've preserved it unblemish'd with shame, 
 
 And it still from a spot shall go free !" 
 
 Kindly complimentino^, once more, both the father 
 and the son, and soothing the memory of their late 
 misfortunes and struggles, and triumphing in their 
 triumph which had followed ; he sung with a force of 
 feeling, though under a form but light and cheerful, 
 those words of another ditty, of which I repeat a part : 
 
 " Says father, says he, one day, to I, 
 
 Thou know'st by false friends we are undone; 
 So, Jacky, my boy, thou thy fortune go trv, 
 
 Among our relations in Loudon: 
 But keep thee in heart this one maxim, our Jack, 
 
 As thy good fate thou'dst read in a book : — 
 Make honour thy guide, or else never come back 
 
 To Father and 3Iother and Suke !" 
 
 And, then, with what a friendly animation did he not 
 give out the finish : 
 
 " I found him as great as a king on his throne, 
 
 The law-suit had banished all sorrow : 
 D'j' see, says I, father, my honour's my own — 
 
 Why then thou shalt have Sukey to-morrow !" 
 
 In a third song, which I found called the Sailor's 
 Will, he had a line to reach the bosom of the bride, 
 and to strengthen, by the insinuation of a eulogium, 
 the integrity of old Mr. Gubbins, and give a tongue to 
 the thoughts of the village in respect of both. There 
 was an unction, therefore, in his tone, and an index- 
 in the turn of his face, when he sansf — 
 
 " Thou'lt find her, — she's called constant Nell ;" 
 
 as also when he came to the apostrophe — 
 
 " And let the world say thou'rt the man 
 To guard a Sailor's Will !" 
 
474 BURFORD COTTAGE, AND 
 
 As to Mr. Gubbins himself, his rapture, through 
 the whole, was without bounds ; and yet he had leisure 
 to pour into the ear of a sometime scholar, who sat next 
 to him, some classical associations, inspired by the 
 Cobbler's chant : " Now this," said he, " is as it should 
 be; these are the gracious purposes of the celestial 
 Muse ; this is the province of the bard ; to inspire and 
 to honour virtue are the genuine offices of poesy; 
 and thus thee seest how it is, that now, just as afore- 
 time, the power of the song can be brought, even at 
 the lowliest boards, to the furtherance of mankind 
 in all knowledge, and especially in that best of know- 
 ledge, virtue! Just so, they sung at every cotter's 
 hearth, and upon every shepherd's knoll, in what we 
 call the classic ages; and just so did our old English 
 ancestry pick up a little learning (I call it learning, 
 for it included the best of learning) amid the mirth at 
 their festivals ; festivals the most courtly, the most 
 rural : for example, at our ancient ales, as the Whitsun' 
 Ales, and sundry more : 
 
 * For many bene of such manere, 
 That talys and rymis wyle blethly here 
 In gamys and festys : at the Ale, 
 Love men to lestene trotonale*.' 
 
 And thus, as thou seest, could our old friend Horace 
 (thee hast not forgotten thy Horace?) so fairly place 
 upon so high a level the estimation of the Muse ;" — 
 and, here, Mr. Gubbins was with difficulty recalled to 
 his share in the humbler but more general conversation 
 
 * " Hear truth and all." — The lines are by Robert de Brunne, 
 an English monk and poet of the thirteenth century ; and it may not 
 be without interest to compare their language, orthography, and ver- 
 sification with those of an English poet of the nineteenth century, 
 upon the opposite page. 
 
ITS ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 4/0 
 
 that was passing; and even from asserting, from his 
 Horace, with most mistimed fervour — 
 
 " Non haec jocosae conveniunt lyrae;" 
 
 while nothing could stop him from at least pronounc- 
 ing, with due quantities, 
 
 " Quo Musa tendis ?" 
 
 and — 
 
 " Referre sennones deorum !" 
 
 To the just remonstrances of his ancient pupil, though 
 modestly preferred, he would only reply — 
 
 '" O minstrel Harp ! mast then thine accents sleep? 
 'Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 
 Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
 Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ? 
 
 Not thus, in ancient davs of Caledon, 
 
 A\ as thv voice mute among the festal crowd!" — 
 
 But, now, his tributes to Horace, and the Muse, and 
 the Harp, in part paid up, he forgot, for a while, his 
 classics and his poetry, and was content to be con- 
 vivial ! 
 
 Nor were mirth, nor cheerfulness, nor sentiment, the 
 only favourites of the happy hour. Practical benevo- 
 lence and kind feelings, and their demonstrations, 
 along with a pardonable defiance of calamity, were 
 also prompted by its sentiment of joy. Lame Ralph, 
 and his wife and children, had a hearty meal, and an 
 ample jug, from amid the abundance of the feast. 
 Blind Rachel, too, was remembered ; and a whole 
 roasted barn-door fowl, with bacon and greens, and 
 a quart of mellow ale, were dispatched to her cottage, 
 by the hands of Jack and Peggy, who long since, 
 
476 EURFORD COTTAGE. 
 
 however, had parted with their faith in her authority 
 concerning Comets; and who now, indeed (with Tom, 
 the brother next above them), thought that they could 
 look forward, without fear of drowning, or burning, or 
 war, or sickness, or famine, or necessity for going 
 to Van Diemen^s Land, to any future appearance in 
 the sky, of those warming and resplendent strangers ! 
 Mr. and Mrs. Paulett, in the mean time, had sent 
 suitable presents to the bride ; and from Emily, assisted 
 by Miss Wainfleet, came a basket of conservatory 
 flowers, and the prettiest of silk and silver pin- 
 cushions ! 
 
 Such was the circle, and such the combination, of 
 these little village occurrences ; and at this point my 
 narrative seems to reach a natural pause, to which 
 conforming myself, I stop. For here a series of adven- 
 tures is wound up, and here also the principal actors 
 are disposed of with the accustomed form and pre- 
 cision ; just as if, in reality, the whole of the grave 
 history I have been giving, were no other than u 
 Fancy Tale ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 CHISWICK : 
 
 I'RINTED EY C. WHITTINGHAM. 
 
p 
 
i 
 
(^.^^