The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 14, No. 388, September 5, 1829

Then, if we extend our perambulations to the vicinity of London, how many hallowed places shall we meet with? Where can we find a palace like Windsor Castle, to which attach the historical recollections of many centuries, adding, if possible, yet more solemnity to Gothic grandeur? Again, can there be conceived a spot more entirely consecrated to classical associations than the grotto, at Twickenham; that retreat in which gazing on "Thames translucent stream," Pope passed so many hours of undisturbed privacy—that spot

 
"Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole,
And the bright flame was shot thro' Marchmont's soul."
 

I have visited it in summer, when the warmth of a mid-day sun has rendered the "frigus amabile" of the interior doubly inviting, and on such occasions, have quite revelled in local enthusiasm.

I remember, some years since, visiting the Duke of Devonshire's beautiful villa, at Chiswick, in company with a friend, whose sentiments on the subject of local impressions are similar to my own. While I was admiring books and paintings in the library, my companion was contemplating in mute emotion, the bed upon which Charles Fox breathed his last. That one object engrossed all the powers of his soul; every other was forgotten!

C. J.

THE HUMBLE SPARROW'S ADDRESS TO T. S. A

(For the Mirror.)

 
My dearest Sir, how great a change
Has pass'd upon the groves I range,
Nay, all the face of nature!
A few weeks back, each pendent bough,
The fields, the groves, the mountain's brow,
Were bare and leafless all, but now
How verdant ev'ry feature!
 
 
Each little songster strives to raise
Its highest warbling notes of praise,
For all these blessings given:—
Ere Sol emerges from behind
The eastern hills, the lark we find
Soars, as it were on wings of wind,
With grateful notes to heaven.
 
 
A thousand others catch the strains,
Each bush and tree a tongue contains,
That offers up its praises.
From morn till the meridian day,
From noon till Sol has sunk away,
One ceaseless song, one grateful lay,
Each feather'd songster raises.
 
 
And when Night's grim and sable band,
Spreads her dim curtains o'er the land,
And all our prospect closes;
Then Philomela, queen of song,
The sweetest of the feather'd throng,
Takes up the theme the whole night long,
While nature all reposes.
 
 
Then surely I, the humblest bird,
That e'er among the groves was heard,
Should aid the thankful chorus;
With chirping note I'll join the sound,
For not a Sparrow, 'twill be found,
Without his will falls to the ground,
Who high above reigns o'er us.
 
 
But what avail my feeble powers,
When softer notes descend in showers,
Mine are not worth regarding;
No honour'd title gilds my name,
No dulcet notes I e'er could claim;
So worthless I, you may obtain
Two Sparrows for a farthing.
 
 
Besides, I ne'er was form'd to sing,
And so must soar on humbler wing,
Since nature saw it fitter;
But yet my feeble powers I'll try,
And sound my chatt'ring notes on high,
For I am sure you'll not deny
To hear my simple twitter.
 
 
My gratitude is doubly due,
For all the hedges² in my view,
Afford a verdant cover;
I now can build my nest once more,
From childhood's prying glance secure,
And from the hawk's keen eye, tho' o'er
The sacred bush he hover.
 
 
Oh! had I Philomela's tongue,
The thrush's note, or warbling song
Of blackbird, lark, or linnet;
I'd then more gratitude display,
Striving to raise a sweeter lay,
I'd sing the fleeting hours away,
Nor silent be a minute.
 
 
But I must quit the trembling spray,
And to my duty fly away,
To pick a straw or feather;
My mate is somewhere on the wing,
I think she's gone some moss to bring,
For we must work while it is spring,
And build our nest together.
 
 
So now adieu—I've chirp'd too long,
Must leave the finish of my song
To some more learned bird's son;
Whose mellow notes can charm the ear
With no discordant chatter near;
So now, dear Sir, I'm your sincere
And humble Sparrow.
 

Herdson.

TO A DESTRUCTIVE INSECT ON A ROSEBUD

IN MANNER OF BURNS

(For the Mirror.)

 
Ye imp o' death, how durst ye dwell
Within this pure and hallow'd cell,
Thy purposes I ken fu' well
Are to destroy,
And wi' a mortal breathing spell,
To blast each joy!
 
 
Yet why upo' so sma' a flower,
Dost thou exert thy deadly pow'r,
And nip fair beauty's natal hour,
Wi' thy vile breath,
It is when wint'ry storms do low'r,
We look for death.
 
 
But thou, thou evil one, hast come,
To bring this wee rose to its doom,
Not i' time of woe and gloom,
But i' the spring,
When flowerets just begin to bloom.
And birds to sing.
 
 
O fie, begone fra out my sight,
Nor dare attempt such joy to blight,
Thou evil wicked-doing doit,
Then hie away,
Seek not the morning, but the night
To crush thy prey!
 

J. F. C.

THE CONTEMPORARY TRAVELLER

JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF THE RED INDIANS OF NEWFOUNDLAND

(Concluded from page 136.)

"We spent several melancholy days wandering on the borders of the east end of the lake, surveying the various remains of what we now contemplated to have been an unoffending and cruelly extirpated people. At several places, by the margin of the lake, are small clusters of winter and summer wigwams in ruins. One difference, among others, between the Boeothick wigwams and those of the other Indians, is, that in most of the former there are small hollows, like nests, dug in the earth around the fireplace, one for each person to sit in. These hollows are generally so close together, and also so close to the fireplace, and to the sides of the wigwam, that I think it probable these people have been accustomed to sleep in a sitting position. There was one wooden building constructed for drying and smoking venison in, still perfect; also a small log-house, in a dilapidated condition, which we took to have been once a storehouse. The wreck of a large, handsome, birch-rind canoe, about twenty-two feet in length, comparatively new, and certainly very little used, lay thrown up among the bushes at the beach. We supposed that the violence of a storm had rent it in the way it was found, and that the people who were in it had perished; for the iron nails, of which there was no want, all remained in it. Had there been any survivors, nails being much prized by these people, they never having held intercourse with Europeans, such an article would most likely have been taken out for use again. All the birch trees in the vicinity of the lake had been rinded, and many of them, and of the spruce fir, or var, had the bark taken off, to use the inner part of it for food, as noticed before."

"Their wooden repositories for the dead are what are in the most perfect state of preservation. These are of different constructions, it would appear, according to the character or rank of the persons entombed. In one of them, which resembled a hut ten feet by eight or nine, and four or five feet high in the centre, floored with squared poles, the roof covered with rinds of trees, and in every way well secured against the weather inside, and the intrusion of wild beasts, there were two grown persons laid out at full length, on the floor, the bodies wrapped round with deerskins. One of these bodies appeared to have been placed here not longer ago than five or six years. We thought there were children laid in here also. On first opening this building, by removing the posts which formed the ends, our curiosity was raised to the highest pitch; but what added to our surprise, was the discovery of a white deal coffin, containing a skeleton neatly shrouded in white muslin. After a long pause of conjecture how such a thing existed here, the idea of Mary March occurred to one of the party, and the whole mystery was at once explained.³"

"In this cemetery were deposited a variety of articles, in some instances the property, in others the representations of the property and utensils, and of the achievements, of the deceased. There were two small wooden images of a man and woman, no doubt meant to represent husband and wife and a small doll which we supposed to represent a child (for Mary March had to leave her only child here, which died two days after she was taken); several small models of their canoes; two small models of boats; an iron axe; a bow and quiver of arrows were placed by the side of Mary March's husband; and two fire-stones (radiated iron pyrites, from which they produce fire, by striking them together) lay at his head; there were also various kinds of culinary utensils, neatly made, of birch rind and ornamented; and many other things, of some of which we did not know the use or meaning."

"Another mode of sepulture which we saw here was, where the body of the deceased had been wrapped in birch rind, and with his property, placed on a sort of scaffold about four feet and a half from the ground. The scaffold was formed of four posts, about seven feet high, fixed perpendicularly in the ground, to sustain a kind of crib, five feet and a half in length, by four in breadth, with a floor made of small squared beams, laid close together horizontally, and on which the body and property rested."

"A third mode was, when the body, bent together, and wrapped in birch rind, was enclosed in a kind of box, on the ground. The box was made of small squared posts, laid on each other horizontally, and notched at the corners, to make them meet close; it was about four feet by three, and two and a half feet deep, and well lined with birch rind, to exclude the weather from the inside. The body lay on its right side."

"A fourth and the most common mode of burying among these people, has been, to wrap the body in birch rind, and cover it over with a heap of stones, on the surface of the earth, in some retired spot; sometimes the body, thus wrapped up, is put a foot or two under the surface, and the spot covered with stones; in one place, where the ground was sandy and soft, they appeared to have been buried deeper, and no stones placed over the graves."

"These people appear to have always shewn great respect for their dead; and the most remarkable remains of them commonly observed by Europeans at the sea-coast, are their burying-places. These are at particular chosen spots; and it is well known that they have been in the habit of bringing their dead from a distance to them. With their women they bury only their clothes."

"On the north-side of the lake, opposite the River Exploits, are the extremities of two deer fences, about half a mile apart, where they lead to the water. It is understood that they diverge many miles in north-westerly directions. The Red Indian makes these fences to lead and scare the deer to the lake, during the periodical migration of these animals; the Indians being stationed looking out, when the deer get into the water to swim across, the lake being narrow at this end, they attack and kill the animals with spears out of their canoes. In this way they secure their winter provisions before the severity of that season sets in."

"There were other old remains of different kinds peculiar to these people met with about the lake."

"One night we encamped on the foundation of an old Red Indian wigwam, on the extremity of a point of land which juts out into the lake, and exposed to the view of the whole country around. A large fire at night is the life and soul of such a party as ours, and when it blazed up at times, I could not help observing that two of my Indians evinced uneasiness and want of confidence in things around, as if they thought themselves usurpers on the Red Indian territory. From time immemorial none of the Indians of the other tribes had ever encamped near this lake fearlessly, and, as we had now done, in the very centre of such a country; the lake and territory adjacent having been always considered to belong exclusively to the Red Indians, and to have been occupied by them. It had been our invariable practice hitherto, to encamp near the hills, and be on their summits by the dawn of day, to try to discover the morning smoke ascending from the Red Indians' camps; and to prevent the discovery of ourselves, we extinguished our own fire always some length of time before daylight."

"Our only and frail hope now left of seeing the Red Indians, lay on the banks of the River Exploits, on our return to the sea-coast."

"The Red Indians' Lake discharges itself about three or four miles from its north-east end, and its waters form the River Exploits. From the lake to the sea-coast is considered about seventy miles; and down this noble river the steady perseverance and intrepidity of my Indians carried me on rafts in four days, to accomplish which otherwise, would have required, probably, two weeks. We landed at various places on both banks of the river on our way down, but found no traces of the Red Indians so recent as those seen at the portage at Badger Bay-Great Lake, towards the beginning of our excursion. During our descent, we had to construct new rafts at the different waterfalls. Sometimes we were carried down the rapids at the rate of ten miles an hour, or more, with considerable risk of destruction to the whole party, for we were always together on one raft."

"What arrests the attention most, while gliding down the stream, is the extent of the Indian fences to entrap the deer. They extend from the lake downwards, continuous, on the banks of the river, at least thirty miles. There are openings left here and there in them, for the animals to go through and swim across the river, and at these places the Indians are stationed, and kill them in the water with spears, out of their canoes, as at the lake. Here, then, connecting these fences with those on the north-west side of the lake, is at least forty miles of country, easterly and westerly, prepared to intercept all the deer that pass that way in their periodical migrations. It was melancholy to contemplate the gigantic, yet feeble, efforts of a whole primitive nation, in their anxiety to provide subsistence, forsaken and going to decay."