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is necessary that we should not only
love confidingly, but that we should
have strength to suffer reproach with
out misgiving or resentment.
XV.
Self-Esteem in Friends. Fly in all
haste*from the friend who will suffer
you to teach him nothing.
XVI.
Eariti/ of Friendship. Friendship,
with half the world, means little more
than the utter subordination of one of
the parties to all the humours and ca
prices of the other. In other words, to
be your friend, l must be your patron.
There is little real friendship. It is a
rarer quality than love—is too passion
less a virtue for most pe<>ple. Regard
ed as the thing it is, we hold the maxim
of Polonious to be worth its weight in
gold:
“ To thy own self be true,
And it must follow as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.”
XVII.
Solitude and Self-Esteem. He will
never suffer from solitude who has
never quarrelled with himselt.
xvm.
Definitions. Definitions in relation
to indeterminate subjects, such as po
etry, the forms and combinations of
which are endless, can seldom contem
plate more than a single characteristic.
You can only describe such topics by
histories, and anew phase in the pro
gress of either will still call tor anew
history.
XIX.
Woman. The woman knows some
thing too much, who too readily disco
vers where her sex is weak.
XX.
Wayside Thorns. The wayside is
set with thorns, in all probability that
we should not forget our errands while
we loiter.
XXI.
Search. No one need seek who
does not believe in the object of his
search, and who has not first resolved
to find. Faith and Resolution are the
two eyes which alone conduct to disco
very and conquest.
XXII.
First Loves. The reason why boys
at first fall in love with women who
are so much older than themselves, is
because of their consciousness that they
have so much to learn. When they
themselves grow old enough to teach,
they seek pupils in their sweethearts.
It is thus that sixty, forgetting the pre
cocity of the sex. feels a passion for
sixteen.
(Bliiufispa nf tljr Cnuntrij.
COOPER RIVER.
Charleston. .
To J. />.. Esq., Boston. Mass.
My Dear Brother: It was our first
excursion up Cooper River. With a
golden ideal of waving rice fields, in
their autumnal glory, we awoke before
the Reveille had sounded its alarm.
The “fast sailing steamer Metarnora”
left its moorings at Union wharf at
sunrise, and the Queen City of the
South seemed rapidly to pass away
from us. In the early morning, a pic
ture lay before us, whose lights and
shadows might baffle the skill of the
artist. High rushes, deeply fringing
the placid river, formed, with their va
rying hues, a strong contrast to the
darker green of the trees, which seemed
the frame of the picture. 1 lore, on the
river’s margin, a water bird, in pictur
esque beauty, sported; there, a solemn
solitary crane, like a sentinel, stationed
himself beside the water’s brink; and
now a white cloud hovered over the
green marsh, for, suddenly emerging
from their low-land coverts —their reed v
nests —a countless number of these river
birds were dispersing; and glittering in
the sunbeam, their plumage seemed
tipped with silver. A rainbow, with
its brilliant arch, spanned the heavens,
while it rested on earth. That glorious
bow of promise is for us an emblem of
taith and Hope, who, while they walk
with us on earth, and tinge with hea
venly hues earth s shadowy scenes,
point to a higher region, where no tem
pest cloud disturbs the serenity.
Cooper River has chosen a garden
spot for its meanderings. It seems
never to weary in its serpentine course.
Like the rivers in the Isle of Calypso,
(so beaut dull \ described by the im
mortal henelon.) this river seeks a re
turn to its source, and seems not wil
ling to quit these enchanted borders.
Like the beautiful Charles, of our
native town, which wanders miles ere
it advances, so does this Southern river
linger in its pathway, and at last both
mingle their waters in the same broad
ocean. I have often thought how much
our native State and the State of my
adoption resemble each other. Both
glorious States, early settled by nature’s
noblemen. Numbered among the ori
ginal thirteen, each bravely bore her
part in the Revolution. Both States
are renowned for their love of order
and justice,; for their attention to edu
cation; lor their social and intellectual
advantages; and for the intelligence
and refinement of their inhabitants. —
Each cherishes with reverent love the
noblest of her noble son
setts her \\ ebster. (’arolina her Cal
houn. And can we brook the thought
of disunion! The selfish politician may
desire it, the enemy of OU r broad land
may seek it.
Hoc ltliacus velit, et tuacno inercentur Atridae.’*
But the pure patriot loves his country,
and knows that the North and the South
depend mutually on each other for
prosperity.
But to return from my digression.
The waters of the Cooper, in their
winding way. produce some magical
illusions. Sometimes they seem to
play at hide and seek, for now we catch
in the distance ‘‘a line of silver on the
lea.” Sometimes a broad river seems
to run parallel with the one on which
we sail, separated from us by the lux
uriant rice fields, or marshes of deepest
sreen. In its narrow channels, so cu
rious are the windings of this river, that
vessels, slowly wending their way, ap
peal 1 at rest on the green meadows.
The waters and the hulls of the vessels
are hid from view by the luxuriant ve
getation, and the spreading sails give to
the marshes the appearance of tented
fields.
As we proceed up the river, the sce
nery is diversified by plantations un
der rich culture, and by white domicils
embowered in verdure. Some of these
spots possess storied interest, and the
historie associations connected with
them, will long be remembered by
those who glory in their noble State.
Soon after leaving Charleston, we
passed the Arsenal, with its little tower
like powder house. Not far distant is
Belvadere, surrounded by verdure. —
This rural place was presented to its
present owner by the daughters of the
illustrious patriot. (Ten. C. C. P. The
disinterested deeds of these ladies are
too numerous to note in a traveller's
sketch book, and to say that they hon
our the name they inherit, is perhaps
as high praise as can be awarded.
The meandering river gives us more
than one view of the Woodlands and
Hagan. The Hagan is a fine edifice,
surrounded by sheltering trees and a
velvet lawn of rich green. This, with
other valuable property on the river, be
longs to the Iluger family. Their name
name is rendered illustrious in the his
tory of our country, by the efforts of a
gallant officer of that family to rescue
from the dungeon of < thnutz, our bene
factor, Lafayette. Not less honoured
in private life than renowned in history,
is this heroic Carolinian. His courtly
manners, his amenity of disposition,
and his elevated moral worth, will lon<r
be remembered by those who have en
joyed the privilege of meeting him in
social intercourse.
About forty miles from Charleston
are Dean Hall, Rice Hope and Coining-
Tee. The latter place is so called from
the name of its settler. Coming, and
Tee from the resemblance of the river
at this spot to the letter T. Here it
divides into two branches, the western
called bv the Indians “ Etiwan.”
Dean Hall, an extensive plantation,
was once the estate of Sir John Nes
bett, a Scotch Baron, who gave to his
American place the name of his country
seat near Edinburgh.
At nine, we approached our landing
spot. Strawberry Ferry. Many of the
passengers in the boat had been left at
landing places on the different planta
tions to await the return of the Meta
mora. Few are so reckless as willingly
to pass a night on Cooper River. The
small boat took us to Strawberry,
where giant oaks rise, in solemn ma
jesty, shrouded by the sombre moss,
and where the smaller trees and shrubs,
closely woven, in wild luxuriance, form
ed arbors impenetrable. We were re
minded of a Floridian hammock, whose
exuberant growth had astonished our
northern eyes, and also of the descrip
tions, in Prescott’s Peru, of the dense
forests, which Pizarro and his adventu
rous band encountered, when landing
from their river journey, the axe only
afforded them a passage through the
matted foliage,
We took shelter from a shower in a
building appropriated by the gentle
men of the neighboring plantations, to
their club meetings. A small church
is the only building near it, and after
the shower had oeased we wandered
about the rural church yard, and among
graves and tombs almost lost in foli
age, moss and weeping vines. We en
tered the church, which seemed damp
and funereal, -lust without the chan
cel. reposes the dust of him who once
ministered to those who worshipped in
this secluded spot.
After our ramble we seated our
selves beneath the shadows of the ma
jestic Live Oaks, some of them extend
ing over an area of a hundred yards.—
Surrounded by luxuriant foliage the
very atmosphere inspired a dreamy and
delicious languor. All seemed serene
and invited repose. We resisted the
inclination, for too often “ souuneil esf
Id k veritable avant con rear de la
niort. The traveller on Cooper River
is reminded of the Pontine Marshes,
and here as there, death finds a covert
in deep shadows, and lurks amid be
guiling sweetness. A night passed by
this river's side, or exposure to rain
here, often produces fever, which strange
to say, lingers in the veins fordaysand
sometimes for weeks, before giving a
sign of its existence, to its victim.
W e enjoyed our woodland seats,
formed by the raised, extended trunk
and roots of the Oak, till warned by
some of the party of the danger, on ac
count of the recent rain, we returned to
the Club Room. Here a pic-nic din
ner was prepared. Rice buds and
shrimps formed a part of the rural feast.
After one more stroll among the splen
did trees, we were taken by a ferry boat
to the Metarnora.
Again we sailed on the placid wa
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
ters of the meandering river, again we
passed the waving rice fields, now
gleaming in the light of the evening sun,
rich and ripe they were, ready to be
gathered by the reaper, to the garner.
A golden cloud rested behind an arbor
of richest green, but was soon lost in
grey twilight, as evening and her sha
dowy train appeared.
Safely we reached the city, and grate
ful to the kind friends to whom we were
indebted for this day of enjoyment,and
to Him who had made for us this beau
tiful world, we return to our home.
This, niv dear brother, is rather a
meagre account of our charming excur
sion, but one cannot learn and be im
pressed by everything in a day, and in
consequence of delaying to pourtray
them, some bright images have faded
from my mind, lam told that above
Strawberry is a real castle. \\ hen we
next go on the river 1 hope we may
sail up to Mulberry Castle, and that 1
shall havesomethinginteresting to write
you.
Prof. A. the great naturalist says,
that Cooper River is the richest ceme
tery in the world, wonderful in the re
mains of the old inhabitants , those wh<
lived after the fishes, but before men.
Perhaps another Basilosaurus will arise
from its waters, equal to the one which
is in possession ot an enthusiast in sci
ence. 1 )r. C. of Columbia. He showed
me one of the vertebra of this monster,
which weighed sixty five pounds.
Ever yours M. B.
(briginnl
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
TO THE MEMORY OF MR. CALHOUN.
BY J. A. TURNER.
Weep for the fallen ! Lo, he sleeps and from
His toil he rpsts. God called—the patriot went.
No more his eye with eagle grace shall flash,
No more his heart with proud pulsation heat.
The light of that once royal eye is quenched,
And from the long, dark night of death, again
’Twill never flash. His lips are pallid now,
And in the grave the Statesman’s voice is
hushed :
No more shall eloquence in torrents burst
From the stiff tongue by icy death now stilled.
The brightest star that beamed upon our sky
Has sunk beneath the dark horizon’s brow.
Clouds gather round our nation as it sinks,
And tempests laugh that in his hand no more
He holds the lash that bound them in their
wrath.
The granite pillar which upheld the dome
Os that proud temple which was reared by
hands,
Os patriot sages and of warriors true,
Has tottered to its fall and is no more.
God, with thy potent hand for good, uphold
The temple which our fathers budded for thee !
God of our stricken country, deign to look
Upon a people maddened in their grief,
Thou holdest in thy hands the nation’s fate ;
Thou seest the Ship of State, like a bubble
rocked
Upon an ocean swayed by angry storms,
Thou seest that from the helm a pilot’s gone.
Be thou the vessel’s guide, and mid the foam,
That surges o’er the breakers’ beetling breast,
Steer thou secure our good old Ship of State.
Fortlie Southern Literary Gazette.
TO LEA.
Can Lett doubt the love her Damon bears,
And to his constant vows refuse her ears?
Does love no feelings in her breast inspire,
Her heart with fondness and her soul with tire?
Ah! blessed hour, when first I saw that face,
Majestic mien, and form so full of grace:
Oh! who can tell the love that then did rise,
Burn’d on my lip, and sparkled in my eyes?
Say, will the time ne’er come when Lea’s
charms
Shine as an idol in her Damon’s arms?
Ah ! doubt it not, if but my Lea feels
One half the love my look so oft reveals;
Thr yve hours, and joyous moments roll,
An n a sea of rapture —drown my soul!
J. H. M.
Charleston, April 15, 1850.
(T’lj? lltuinupr.
From the Southern Quarterly Renew, for April.
ASPECTS OF NATURE.
Aspects of Nature, in different lands and
different climates, with scientific elucidations.
By Alexander von Humboldt. Transla
ted by Mrs. Sabine. Philadelphia : Lea &
Blanchard.
The wonderful progress of physical
science is one of the most striking fea
tures of the present age. At no for
mer period of time does history or
fable present to us such astonishing
revelations in the world of science, or
such daring investigations into the arca
na of natural history. The physicists of
the nineteenth century surpass, both in
the comprehensiveness of their obser
vation and in the grandeur of their dis
coveries, those of any former age. The
tree of science has struck deep its roots
into the earth, and spread wide its
branches over every part of its surface.
Its leaves are eloquent with wonder;
its blossoms astonish us with their ex
ceeding beauty and variety, and its
fruits are more precious than “apples of
gold.”
To write soberly, and without en
thusiasm, of the present state of scien
tific developments, would require a de
gree of phlegmatism to which we would
not willingly plead guilty. Stoics of
the “ nil admirari ” school may possibly
he unmoved at the brilliant succession
of triumphs which science is achieving.
They may look with indifference upon
the electric telegraph, which renders
thought instantaneously vocal a thou
sand miles away from the place of its
conception, and enables the dwellers
upon opposite sides of a continent to
commune, as it were, face to face. They
may see no cause for admiration in the
almost infinite extent of the visible uni
verse by the revelations of the tele
scope. To them, nebulous oceans, stud
ded with archipelagos of worlds, may
lie mere matters of course. They may,
perhaps, feel no emotion of surprise at
discovering the sublime age of our pla
net, comprehending a series that puts
even arithmetic to the blush, and affords
us the most luminous commentary upon
that text of Holy Writ which declares
that to the Deity “a thousand years
are as one day!” They may be un
startled even by a glance into the very
heart of our mother earth, to find it the
seat of volcanic life, heaving and toss-
ing with fierce lava floods, the heat of j
which extends so near the surface-crust
of our planet that it is appreciable in
the temperature of the water which
gushes from our Artesian wells.
All these. and a thousand other sei- I
entific marvels, may fail, we say, to j
excite enthusiasm in some minds: but :
we are not of that class. Such things
cannot be “without our special wonder,
and we are not ashamed to confess that
anew world of delight and enjoyment j
is perpetually opening before us in the
discoveries of physical science.
Akin to our eagerly acknowledged
interest in the results of philosophic
research, is that which we cherish to
ward the great oracles of its myste
rious utterances. They dwell apart, in
our estimation, from the common herd
of men, whose highest ambition is to
grasp the sensual, and whose homage
to science is thanklessly extorted by
the obvious influence it exerts upon the
agencies and appliances of their sordid
occupations and pursuits.
Conspicuous in the annals of natural
history, and identified with some of the
proudest discoveries in terrestrial phy
sios, is the name of the Baron. Alexan
der Von Humboldt, the author of the
volume to which this notice is designed
rather to call the reader’s attention, than
to offer him a critical estimate of its
merits. A hasty glance at his illus
trious career will be n<> unfit accompa
niment to what we may have to say of
his latest work.
Baron Humboldt was born at Berlin
in 1769, so that he has very recently
completed his eightieth year. From
his advanced position, lie may look back
upon more than half a century devoted
to active labours in the great field of na
ture-labours more diversified than those
of any other physicist whatever. lie
has explored nearly ail the territory of
our globe, from the ice-ribbed shores of
the polar regions to the arid deserts of
the tropical zone. Os him it may w ith
truth be said that he has
“The heavens and earth of every country seen;”
and seen them, too, with no meagre
power of vision, or with no narrow
scope. lie lias sealed almost inacces
sible mountain heights, to determine
their altitude and their geographical re
lations to each other. He has broken
their rocky cliffs with the hammer of
the patient mineralogist, and dived into
their caverns with the ardour of the
geologist. He has plucked the Alpine
flower, the solitary blossom of the de
sert, and the gorgeous corolla of tropi
cal gardens, with the eager delight of
the botanist. Ile lias explored the ani
mal world in its multifarious forms,
with the discrimination of the zoologist,
investigated the phenomena of the ele
ments with the rare skill of the chemist,
and examined the political and social
system of various countries, with the
deliberation of the political and social
economist. In short, he has contem
plated all things in the spirit of a most
comprehensive philosophy, and by rare
powers of induction evolved from the
myriad details of his observation some
of the loftiest and sublimest generali
zations of modern science.
It is difficult to say in which depart
ment of science this great man has most
distinguished himself. II is researches
have, however, imparted such a splendor
to physical geography that we shall not
err greatly in claiming for him preemi
nence in that branch of knowledge.
Connected with it are many of the most
gigantic labors, the records of which
constitute his ablest contributions to
scientific literature.
When he was yet very young, in his
twenty-first year, he published a volume
of observations upon the basaltic forma
tions of the banks of the Rhine, and
shortly afterwards he issued a work
upon the mines of Freyburg. To these
succeeded, with a rapidity that exhibits
the almost incredible fertility of his
mind, treatises upon various branches of
science, among which, his work on “Ani
mal Electricity” is the most prominent.
In his thirtieth year Humboldt com
menced that celebrated exploring expe
dition, in company with Bonplandt, the
record of which is undoubtedly the chef
d'oeuvre of his vast labors, it occupied
a series of years, and the scene of it was
the equinoctial territory of the New
World. It may readily be conceived
that to such an investigator as Hum
boldt the vast regions of Central Ame
rica ottered the most brilliant field for
scientific discovery, and no words of
ours could adequately estimate the ex
tent and value of its results to science.
This expedition occupied a period of
six years, and they constituted an epoch
in the annals of physical science, unsur
passed by any that preceded or by any
that has yet followed it. It was the
labour of many subsequent years to re
duce the results of that gigantic explo
ration to book form, extending to nearly
thirty magnificent volumes. With a
part of this work in tin* English trans
lation, so skilfully and faithfully rendered
by Mrs. Williams, many of our readers
are doubtless acquainted.
To these labours succeeded others of
a deeply interesting character, and his
lectures upon the Physical Condition of
the Globe, delivered at Berlin in his
fifty-third year, display the extent and
profundity of his observations. In 1829
lie undertook an expedition into Central
Asia, and explored those regions in the
Old World which correspond nearly in
geographical position to the field of his
researches in the New World. The re
cords of these adventures were published
in 1843, and end ►race a copious topo-!
graphy of the Trahan chain of moun
tains. the Chinese frontier and the Cas
pian Sea. It is worthy of mention, to
the honour of sovereignty, that our illus
trious traveller was enabled to perform
this noble expedition out of a liberal
pension of 12,000 dollars, granted to
him by bis sovereign, King Frederick
William, of Prussia.
Passing over other productions of his
busy pen, we mention briefly his great
work, the “Kosmos,” a name which he
himself designates as “ imprudent,” from
its grand and startling comprehensive
ness, but which was not inaptly chosen,
to convey an idea of the aggregated re
sults of half a century’s patient, toil
some and philosophic observation, in
nearly all quarters of the globe. It is
truly a cosmography of no common
order, in which Nature is viewed both ob
jectively and reflectively, both in her
own aspects and in the sensations which
they produce upon the human mind.
Kindred with this great work is the
volume which we have made the text of
this article, and to an examination of
which we must hastily proceed. It is
not anew work which claims our notice,
for nearly half a century ago its first
edition appeared in Berlin, under its
present title, “ Amechfen der Natur.”
In 1826 a second edition was published
in Paris, containing additional essays,
and the author has now had the proud
satisfaction, when burdened with the
w eight of four score years, of preparing
a third edition, in which what is new
greatly exceeds what is old. lie has
entirely remodelled the work, to meet
the requisitions of the age, and his an
notations and elucidations attest the un
impaired condition of his intellectual
energies.
The papers composing the volume
took their origin, as the author tells us,
“in the presence of natural scenes of
grandeur or of beauty, on the ocean, in
the forests of the Orinoco, in the steppes
of Venezuela, and in the mountain wil
dernesses of Peru and Mexico.” They
are both graphic and didactic, having
and achieving the two-fold purpose of
affording delight by tbe power of de
scription, and instruction by an exhibi
tion of the forces of Nature in their va
rious but concurrent modes of action.
The first essay is devoted to those vast
and singular areas of land which are
found to exist, w ith only local modifica
tions, in various parts of the globe, and
which in Asia are termed steppes and
in Africa deserts. Closely allied to these
are also the prairies of North America
and the heaths of Northern Europe,
which latter extend from Jutland to the
mouth of the Scheldt. These plains,
whether of vast or small extent, and
varying in character from arid w astes of
sand to undulating and pasturing mea
dows, are all regarded by our author as
true steppes, “ with a physiognomy de
termined by diversity of soil, by climate,
and by elevation above the level of the
sea.” These steppes resemble the beds
of now evanished oceans, and it is con
jectured, with great plausibility, that in
the ancient condition of the globe, they
were entirely overflowed by water.
“ Even at the present time,” says our
author, “ nocturnal illusion still recalls
these images of the past. When the
rapidly rising and descending constella
tions illumine the margin of the plain,
or when their trembling image is re
peated in the lower stratum of undula
ting vapor, we seem to see before us a
shoreless ocean.”
With the pencil of an artist, our tra
veller delineates the natural features of
these ocean-plains in different parts of
the world, and particularly those of
Africa, which are characterized by a
grander and severer aspect than the
others. He describes the great sandy
wastes. m> rarely traversed, and impas
sable but for the camel, which, in the
figurative language of the East, is called
‘‘the ship of the desert.” The tropical
position of these plains is the cause of
their peculiar physiognomy. Unvisited
by the gentle dew or the refreshing rain,
and constantly fermented by heated co
lumns of air. they sustain no vegetation,
but, scorched and blistering in the solar
rays, are totally uninhabitable by man.
The plateaux of Central Asia lie
chiefly within the temperate zone, and
extend for many thousand miles. These
are very varied in their geognostic phe
nomena, embracing vast areas, occupied
by pastoral and nomadic tribes, and co
vered with luxuriant floral vegetation,
immense grassy plains, and tracts covered
with efflorescent salt, resembling snow.
From these steppes, at various periods
of time, the pastoral tribes alluded to
have issued in vast hordes upon the ci
vilized portions of the glode, and spread
desolation in their path. Here dwelt
the Moguls and other barbarians. The
“ famous Hun,” who desolated the fer
tile regions of Po and Volga, broke from
the steppes of Central Asia. Thus has
the desert sent mildew and blighting
upon the flowers of civilization !
It is to the South American steppes,
however, that he devotes his chief at
tention, where the interest is entirely
that of Nature, and where “no oasis re
calls the memory of early inhabitants.”
The northernmost plains of South Ame
rica, corresponding most nearly in geo
graphical position to the African deserts,
are called Llanos, while those stretching
southwardly are called Pampas. The
difference in the physiognomy of the
deserts of the old world and the South-
American Llanos, both lying chiefly with
in the tropics, is an interesting topic of
discourse with our author. In spite
of striking similarity between the phy- j
sical outlines of South America and the j
Southern peninsula of the Eastern world, |
there is a marked contrast in their con
dition, in the far greater humidity of
the former producing a profuse vegeta- j
tion and an arborescence nowhere sur- I
passed. This difference is explained by I
our author without resort to the mythical
geology, which supposed that the wes
tern hemisphere of our planet emerged j
from its chaotic watery envelope at a
later period than the eastern. The true
reason is found, in part, at least, in the j
difference of soil, in the opposite equa- !
torial positions, in the size and number
of the rivers, and in the height and ex
tent of the mountains of the two re
gions; and wherein these fail to explain
the transformation of the African steppes j
into a parched desert, the concurrence ■
of some great revolution of Nature is
suggested.
For six months of the year the Llanos i
are almost as arid and desolate as the ,
African Sahara, but during the other
six months they are covered with grasses
and vegetation not unlike the verdant
steppes of Asia. The contrast they
present at these different periods is thus
vividly described:
“ When, under the vertical rays of the never
clouded sun, the carbonized turfy covering falls
into dust, the indurated soil cracks asunder as
if from the shock of an earthquake. If at such
times two opposing currents of air, whose con
flict produces a rotary motion, comes in contact
with the soil, the plain assumes a strange and
singular aspect. Like conical-shaped clouds,
the points of which descend to the earth, the
sand rises through the rarified air on the elec
trically-charged centre of the whirling current,
resembling the loud water-spout dreaded by the
experienced mariner. The lowering sky sheds
a dim, almost straw-coloured light, on the de
solate plain. The horizon draws suddenly
nearer, the steppe seems to contract, and with
it the heart of the wanderer. The hot dusty
particles which fill the air increase its suffoca
ting heat, and the east wind, blowing over the
long heated soil, brings with it no refreshment,
hut rather a still more burning glow. The
pools, which the yellow, fading branches of the
fan-palm had protected, now gradually disap
pear. As in the icy north the animals become
torpid with cold, so here, under the influence of
the parching drought, the crocodile and the boa
become motionless and fall asleep, deeply buried
in the dry mud. Everywhere the death-threat
ening drought prevails, and yet by the play of
refracted rays of light producing the phenome
na of the mirage, the thirsty mariner is every
where pursued by the illusive image of a cool,
rippling, watery mirror. The distant palm
bush, apparently raised by the influence of un
equally heated, and therefore unequally dense
strata of air, hovers above the ground, from
which it is separated by a narrow, intervening
margin. Half concealed by the dark clouds of
dust, restless with the pain of thirst and hunger,
the horses and cattle roam around, the cattle
lowing dismally and the horses stretching out
their long necks and snuffing the wind, if haply
a moister current may betray the neighbourhood
of a not wholly dried up pool. More sagacious
and cunning, the mule seeks a different mode
of alleviating his thirst. The ribbed and sphe
rical melon conceals under its prickly envelope
a watery pith. The mule first strikes the prick
les aside with his fore feet, and then ventures
warily to approach his lips to the plant and
drink the cool juice. But resort to this vege
table fountain is not always without danger,
and one sees many animals that have been
lamed by the prickles of the cactus.
“ At length, after the long drought, the wel
come season of the rain arrives, and then how
suddenly is the scene changed! The deep
blue of the hitherto perpetually clouded sky
becomes lighter ; at night the dark space in the
constellation of the Southern Cross is hardly
distinguishable : the soft, phosphorescent light
of the Magellanic clouds fades away ; even the
stars in Aquiht and Ophiuchus, in the zenith,
shine with a trembling and less planetary light.
A single cloud appears in the south, like a dis
tant mountain rising perpendicularly from the ho
rizon. Gradually the increasing vapours spread
like mist over the sky, and now the distant
thunder ushers in the life-restoring rain. Hardly
has the surface of the earth received the re
freshing moisture, before the previously barren
steppe begins to exhale sweet odours, and to
clothe itself with Kvllingias, the many pani
cules of the Paspulum, and a variety of grasses.
The herbaceous Mimosas, with renewed sensi
bility to the influence of light, unfold their
drooping, slumbering leaves to greet the rising
sun ; and the early song of birds, and the open
ing blossoms of the water plants, join to salute
the morning.”
The animal life of Llanos is wonder
fully developed, in consequence of the
absence of human inhabitants.
“ Agoutes, small spotted antelopes, curiassed
Hiniadilloes, which, like rats, startle the hare
in its subterranean holes, herds oflazychiguires,
beautifully striped viverrae, which poison the
air with their odour, the large maneless lion,
spotted jaguars, (often called tigers,) strong
enough to drag away a young bull after killing
him—these and many other forms of animal
life, wander through the treeless plain.”
To these add scaly crocodiles and gi
gantic water snakes, which awakened, by
the first rain, from their summer tor
por heave up the ground like miniature
volcanoes, and issue forth to the con
sternation of the beholder. The croco
diles and jaguars devour many of the
horses which abound in the Llanos.—
These latter have also a dreadful enemy
in the gymnotus, or electric eel, which
infests the marshy waters. These eels
are sometimes six feet in length, and
are the terror of all other fish. Their
electric discharge is sometimes power
ful enough to kill horses, mules or cat
tle ; and the caravan route from Uritu
icu, through the steppe, was once chan
ged, to avoid the danger of crossing a
small river that intercepted it, and
was full of gymnoti. The following
graphic description of a battle with
these formidable foes will interest the
reader:
“ The capture of the gymnoti affords an in
teresting spectacle. Mules and horses are
driven into a marsh which is closely surrounded
by Indians, until the unwonted noise and
disturbance induce the pugnacious fish to
begin an attack. One sees them swimming
about like serpents, and trying cunningly to
glide under the bellies of the horses. Many
of these are stunned by the force of the invisi
ble blows ; others, with manes standing on end,
foaming, and with wild terror sparkling in their
eyes, try to fly from the raging ternpest. But
the Indians, armed with long poles and bam
boo, drive them back into the middle of the
pool. Gradually the fury of the unequal strife
begins to slacken. Like clouds which have
discharged their electricity, the wearied fish
begin to disperse ; long repose and abundant
food are required to replace the galvanic force
which they have expended. Their shocks be
come gradually weaker and weaker. Terrified
by ihe noise of the trampling horses, they
timidly approach the bank, where they are
wounded by harpoons and cautiously drawn on
sht<re by non-conducting pieces of dry wood.”
Turning from the singular aspect of
nature presented in the steppes of South
America, to the territory which forms
a part of their boundaries —the wilder
ness of Guiana—our attention is arrest
ed by the remarkable cataracts of the
Orinoco. The Orinoco, probably, of
all the South American rivers, pours
the largest tribute into the lap of
ocean, though this may admit of ques
tion. The Amazons exceeds it in length,
and m the breadth of its embouchure,
in w hich latter feature it is also surpass
ed by the Platte ; but it surpasses both
of these in its average width. Our au
thor found its breadth, at st>o miles in
land, to exceed 17,000 feet.
The reported lake-origin of this riv
er is entirely dissipated by the research
es of Humboldt, and appears to have
had its only foundation in the fancy or
dogmatism of early geographers. Such
is t lie tortuous course of this vast stream,
that its mouth and its sources are near
ly in the same meridian. It flows first
to the west, then to the north, and fi
nally to the etist; thus bounding, upon
three sides, the Sierra de Pari me. At
its first great angle it receives the trib
utary waters of the Guaviare and the
Atabapo, from the west, and in this vi
cinity occurs the Piriguao, “one of the
noblest of palm trees, whose smooth
and polished trunk, between 60 and
70 feet high, is adorned with a delicate,
fan-like foliage, curled at the margin.”
Its fruit is exquisitely colored, and re
sembles the peach ; seventy or eight v
of which form enormous pendulous
branches. Three of these vast clusters
are ripened on every palm; affording an
idea of almost tairy-like profusion.
At the junction of the Guaviare, the
Orinoco suddenly pierces the great
mountain chain of the Parirne, along
the southern base of which it hud hith
erto flowed, iii this abrupt mountain
pass are the great tall- of Attires and
May pu res.
To convey to the reader an ade
quate idea of the wildness and gran
deur of these cataracts, we should have
to quote freely from our author’s text,
which our limits forbid. They are not
like Niagara, remarkable for a single
leap of an overwhelming body of wa
ter, or, like our Southern Tallulah, a se
ries of noble and distinctive tails ; but
“ consist of a countless number of cas
cades, succeeding each other by steps.”
The broad bed of the river is encroach
ed upon by numberless rocks and cliffs
of granite, opposing a myriad of ob
stacles to its flow, and producing “ a
dreadful noise and wild foaming and
dashing.” The highest steps do not
exceed ten feet, and of these there are
only two, the Purimarimi and the
Manirni; from which latter, the most
magnificent view of the entire raudal
is obtained. We quote our author's
description.
“ A foaming surface of four miles in length
presents itself at once to the eye ; iron-black
masses of rock, resembling ruins anil battle
mented towers are frowning from the waters.
Rocks and islands are adorned with the luxuri
ant vegetation of the tropical forest; a perpetu
al mist hovers over the waters, and the sum
mits of the lofty palms pierce through the cloud
of spray and vapor. When the rays of the
glowing evening sun are refracted in these hu
mid exhalations, a magic optical effect begins.
Coloured bows shine, vanish and re-appear, and
the ethereal image is swayed to and fro by the
breath of the sportive breeze. During the long
rainy season, the streaming waters bring down
islands of vegetable mould, and thus the naked
rocks are studded with bright flower beds,
adorned with Melastomas and Droseras, and
with small silver-leaved mimosas and ferns.”
Near the village of Maypures—a mis
sionary settlement—the mountains re
cede and form a grassy plateau of great
extent, only thirty feet above the
highest level of the river. Abund
ant geological evidence exists, that
this bay was once filled by the waters
of the Orinoco, until the northern dyke
gave way, and they gradually receded
to the eastern margin of the Parime.
Among the evidences of this fact, are
figures on granite rocks, at an elevation
of eighty feet—drawings of the sun
and moon—crocodiles and serpents,
which the natives sa\ were cut there
when the boats of their fathers floated
i only just below them !
The Raudal of Atures, is. like that
! of Maypures, only a cluster of rocky
| islets, through which the (frinoeo forces
its way over successive steps, with a
thundering noise, sometimes taking un
-1 der ground channels and for a time leav
ing the rocky bed dry. It was near
i this spot that our traveller visited a re
markable cave, of melancholy interest,
as the sepulchre of a deceased nation.
! Climbing up a steep and hold granite
precipice, with no other support than
large protruding crystals of feld-spar.
he gained an elevation which overlook
ed a precipitous valley, bounded by
mountains whose summits supported
granite spheres of vast dimensions, ap
parently balanced upon a single point
and waiting only a slight movement to
be hurled from their frail tenure to the
plain below. In a densely wooded
corner of this vale is the cave or rocky
recess of Ataruipe. It contains hun
dreds of skeletons. each carefully pre
served in a basket made of the palm
leaf stalks. Besides these, are many
urns of singular shapes, and unique orna
-1 merits, containing tlie bones, perchance,
of entire families. The legend of this
sa<l place is that the Atures. a brave
and noble race, retreating before the
cannibal ('aribs, took refuge in this val
i ley of the Cataracts, where they and i
i their language became utterly extinct.
The next chapter affords us grand
pictures of the “ I Twald.” a primeval
forest between the < )rinoco and the
j Amazons. The “l rwald” is a term
! properly applied only to such tropical
| forests as are “so truly impenetrable
that it is impossible to clear with an
axe any passage between trees of eight
and twelve feet in diameter, for more
than a few paces.” This vast forest
stretches from the Llanos of Venezue
la to the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, and
comprehends a territory superior in ex
tent to the whole area of the United
States! It is traversed by vast rivers
with countless lateral branches, which
! form the onh channels of ingress and
egress to the traveller. Here is found
I every species of forest growth in the
wildest magnificence, not grouped as
! in nothern woods, hut crowded
I er in countless numbers of families, so
that “ each day, and at each change of
place, new forms present themselves to
the traveller. ihe very undergrowth
! becomes ligneous, and this, indeed,
! constitutes the chief barrier topenetra
j tion.
Ihe nocturnal life of animals in this
wilderness is a theme upon which our
j author dilates with evident pleasure.—
; W e quote a passage, to afford the read
: er some idea of the “ Voices of the
Night” in a South American “ Urwald”
! or primitive forest:
“ Soon after 11 o’clock, such a disturbance
began to be heard in the adjoining forest, that
for the remainder of the night all sleep was im
possible. The wild cries of animals appeared
to rage throughout the forest. Among the
many voices which resounded together, the In
dians could not recognise those which, after
short pauses in the general uproar, were first
heard singly. There was the monotonous
howling of the aluates (the howling monkeys); |
the plaintive, soft, and almost flute-like tones j
ot the small sapajous, the snort'ng grumblings
of the striped, nocturnal monkey (the Nyctipi
thecus trivirgatus, which I was the first to de
scribe) ; the interrupted cries of the great ti
ger, the caguar or maneless American lion, the
’ peccary, the sloth, and a host of parrots, of
paraguas, and other pheasant-like birds. When
the tigers came near the edge of the forest, our
dog, which had before barked incessantly, came
howling to seek refuge under our hammocks.
Sometimes the cry of the tiger was heard to
i proceed from admidst the high branches of a
tree, and was in such case always accompa
nied by the plaintive piping of the monkeys,
who were seeking toescapefrom the unwonted
pursuit.”
In a beautiful essay upon the Physi
ognomy of Plants, there is an almost
fairy-like description of the beginning
and progresss of vegetation upon a new
ly-risen volcanic island, or upon the
bare crest of some coral reef, which the j
united labors of myriads of lithophytes
have availed, after myriads of ages, to
lift above the waves, affording proof of
the incessant activity of the organic
forces of Nature.
After discriminating the varieties of
vegetable forms, concerned in determi
ning the physiognomy of Nature, from
the palm to the laurel, our author
makes the following felicitou sugges
tion :
“ It would be an enterprise worthy of a great |
artist, to study the aspect and character of all
these vegetable groups, not merely in hot
houses, or in the descriptions of botanists, but
in their native grandeur, in the tropical zone.
How interesting and instructive to the land
scape painter would be a work which should pre
sent to the eye,first separately and then in com
bination and contrast, the leading forms which
have been here enumerated ! How picturesque
is the aspect of tree-ferns spreading their deli
cate fronds above the laurel oaks of Mexico, or
groups of plantains overshadowed bv arbores
cent grasses (Guaduas and Bamboos) ! It is
the artist’s privilege, having studied these
groups, to analyze them ; and thus in his hands
the grand and beautiful form of Nature, which
he would pourtray,resolves itself, (if I may ven
ture on the expression,) like written works of
men, into a few simple elements.”
The limits assigned to this article
oblige us to pass, without special notice, ;
our author’s treatise on \ oleanos. in
which he considers their structure and
its influence upon their modes of action,
deducing from his own varied and care
ful observations, many very ingenious j
laws regarding volcanic phenomena.
The next paper is entitled “ The Rlio- j
dian Genius,” and is a semi-mythical il
lustration of what our author designates
“ A ital Force,” as represented by an al
legorical picture famous among the Sy
racusans and called the “ Rhodian Ge
nius.”
A picture of the Plateau of Caxamar
ca, the ancient capital of the Inca Ata
huallpa, and a first view of the Pacific
ocean front the crest of the Andes, ap
propriately and grandly close these “As
pects of Nature.” In the lofty fastness
es of the Corderillas, our traveller en
countered remains of that gigantic work ;
—the artificial road of the Incas, which 1 1
extended through all that ancient an< ;
renowned empire, and was over a thou
sand miles in length. This stupendous!
work, achieved at an altitude of ] 3
feet above the sea, attests the energy 0 f
the old Peruvians, surpassing as it di!j
iii solidity and grandeur any of the road
of Spain or Italy, or indeed of the old
world. Nor was it this road alone, th a .
bore witness to the controlling despot!
ism of the Inca sway, for in every
of the territory, artificial roads i tr !
I built upon a magnificent scale. As they
! were never used for carriages, they often
J ascended mountain heights by 1 01) „
| flight of steps, which opposed’ no oC
l stacle to the march of the Inca troop.
: oi <?\<?n to the lamas, which they
as leasts of burden, but which were for
: midable barriers to the Spanish cavalry
under Pizarro and Almagro, who made
use of the military roads in their distant
; expeditions. The fate of the last of the
Incas, and the memorials of his o-r eat .
j nesslend a <h*P interest to this part of
| our author’s work. But we must ] lasten
| to a close.
Let us, however, linger for a moment
with our illustrious traveller, upon the
Alta de Guangamarta, and look forth
upon the Pacific ocean from an eyrie
nearly ten thousand feet above the level
|of its majestic waves Ilow calm it
j looks, but our bosoms —how tumultu
! ously they bear! And well they may.
for there lies before us the noblest sight
in Nature—the vast expanse of waters
which lave mighty continents on op
posite skies of the globe : upon whose
I eastern margin the ports of American
commerce are speedily to be established,
and towards which the march ofcivili-
I zation, of the .arts, and of ('liristianitv. i
now tending!
\\ e have barely glanced at the volume
before us, and have forlorne to attempt
oven jydigest of the observations it eon
tains. The interest which now attaches
itself to the great project of opening a
communication between the Atlantic and
the Pacific oceans, across the Isthmus
of Panama, will, however, justify us in
special allusion to the views of our au
thor upon that subject. In a note to tin
last paper, touching the expedition of
Vasco Nunez de Balboa, lie says :
“ As die taking possession of a considerable
part of the west coast of the new continent by
the United States of North America, and the
report of the abundance of gold in New Cal
ifornia, (now called Upper California,) have
rendered more urgent than ever the formation
of a communication between the Atlantic State,
and the region of the west through the Isthmus
of Panama, I feel it my duty to call attention
once again to the circumstance that the short
est way to the shores of the Pacific, which was
shown by the natives to Alonso Martin de Don
Ben ito, is in the eastern part of the Isthmus,
and led to theGolfo De San Miguel.”
After showing that the surveys al
readv made have been in the wrong
direction, viz: in that of a meridian be
tween Panama and Porto Bello, or to
wards Chagres and Cruces, thus leaving
the eastern and south eastern parts of
the Isthmus—by far the most import
ant parts —altogether unexamined, he
insists that any conclusion prejudicial to
the formation of tin oceanic canal, per
mitting ships to pass from one ocean to
tht* other at all seasons, is premature;
and continuing his argument and illus
trations he concludes as follows;
“ Let that part be particularly examined
where, near the continent of South America,
the separating mountain ridge sinks into hills.
Seeing the importance of the subject to the
great commerce of the world,the research ought
not, as hitherto, to be restricted to a limited
field. A great and comprehensive work, which
i shall include the whole eastern part of the Isth
mus, and which will be equally useful for ev
! erv possible kind of operation or construction
—lor canal or for railway—can alone decide
the much discussed problem either affirmative
jiy or negatively. That will he done at last
which should, and had my advice been taken,
would have been done in the first instance.”
Various indeed, and grand as varied,
are the aspects of Nature which are pre
sented to us in this remarkable volume.
■ It is refreshing beyond measure to turn
, aside from the pat hs of business and from
the haunts of Mammon to contemplate,
i with a calm and enquiring spirit, the sub
lime manifestations of the Deity in his
works, with such a guide for our steps
as Humboldt. It is in such companion
j ship, and in such employment, that we
feel the truth and adopt the spirit of the
impassioned apostrophe of an English
poet:
“ Oh, Nature, how in every charm supreme,
Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ;
Oh for the voice and fire of Seraphim,
To sing thy glories with devotion due :
Biest be the day 1 ’scaped the wrangling crew,
Front Pyrrhus’ maze and Epicurus’ sty,
And held high converse with the godlike few,
Who to th’ enraptuted heart and ear and eye :
Teach beauty virtue, truth and love and mel
ody !”
iT'lir ?nrrrii altar.
SPIRITUAL PRESENCES.
BV JAMES It. PF.RKIXS.
It is a beautiful belief,
That ever round our head
Are hovering on noiseless wing
The spirits of the dead.
It is a beautiful belief,
When ended our career,
That it will be our ministry
To watch o’er others here ;
To lend a moral to the flower,
Breathe wisdom on the wind ;
To hold commune at night’s still noon
With the imprisoned mind ;
To bid the mounter cease to mourn.
The trembling be forgiven ;
To bear away, from ills of clay,
Tht* infant to its heaven.
Ah! when delight was found in life,
And joy in every breath,
1 cannot tell how terrible
The mystery of death.
But now the past :s bright to me,
And all the future clear,
For ‘tis my faith that after death
I still shall linger here.
Lesson for Sunday May 12th.
THE TESTIMONY OF JESIS.
‘* He that hath received his testimy hath set to his seal that
God is true.”- John iii. 38.
This was the language of John res
“ ~P ,
pectin £ the Saviour. lie discovered a
noble spirit, devoid of everything like
| envy and jealousy, when he exclaimed,
“He must increase but I must de
crease. So it is with the morning
star; it shines brightly till the sun
rises, but when his beams reach our
horison, it is eclipsed by the superior
lustre of the luminary of day. Let us
consider the testimony of Jesus in three
points of view.
xVs recorded. But where ? In the
Bible. Note.
The excellency of its matter. It re
lates to subjects of the most solemn and
sublime character, the nature, perfec
tions, and government of God, and the
condition, duties, and destinies of man.
The evidence of its truth. It is not
a mere unauthenticated report, but a