Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

than her decks are covered with sooty officials, boarding-house keepers, newspaper reporters, ship-chandlers' clerks, "dobeys" and "compradores," parading their cards and references, seeking and imparting news, and soliciting custom. The "dubash" or "compradore," a handsome Hindoo with rings in his ears and nose, and robed and turbaned in spotless white, is engaged to provision the ship during her stay, and every day brings off refreshing loads of fresh beef, fresh fowls, fresh eggs, fresh milk, fresh vegetables, fresh fruits, pine-apples, bananas, cocoa-nuts, and Boston ice. We shall fare like princes after the stale bill of fare of a ship three months out of port. The meek-looking dobey-washerman takes

hose,) Chinese joss-houses, and Hindoo temples. A Hindoo festival is in progress, and vast is the display of lights blazing in and around their temple and its turrets by night, grand are the processions by day, and, saving the unrhythmical accompaniment of a terrible drum, sweet and pleasant are the combination and effects of the musical instruments employed on the occasion. The principal Chinese temple is an expensive model of their peculiar architecture. Dragons spring from the roofs, forming, with the arching of their scaly backs and sting-armed tails, the festoon style of roof which we have all seen in the blue landscapes with which the table services of our grandmothers were ornamented. Its interior is barbarically gorgeous-gods, resembling the old-away cargoes of foul linen. A ship is a fashioned red-faced, beer-mug representations of John Bull, with his cup of flip, look mildly or glare hideously out of recessed shrines. Swallows twitter in the lofty roofs, and fly unmolested about their nests in the eaves, reminding you that the temple at Jerusalem was built in the same open-work style, and the habitation of like feathery occupants. On the hill in the distance, beyond these temples, stand the hospitals, and around the point at which the view terminates, with a few straggling habitations, lies New Harbor and the wharves and coal-yard of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Company, the transporters of passengers and mails from China to Suez, monthly, since the commencement of the siege of Sebastopol. The harbor is thronged with foreign ships, and those rudest of all specimens of marine architecture this side of Noah's ark-Chinese junks. Sanpans" ply in all directions, rowed by swarthy men naked from the loins upward, and downward, with the occasional exception of a glossy coat of olive oil! The costume is certainly adapted to the climate, and the force of custom is such that the wellhabited foreigner soon learns to regard it as a matter of course, and to think it as singular to see a Malay in Christian apparel as it originally was to see him with- | out any. And so great is the power of habit, that those Malays who dress in light clothes of English fashion always wear the waist-cloth-by way of superfluous ornament as it would seem-over the garments of civilization. The anchor of the stranger ship is no sooner dropped

66

[ocr errors]

filthy place, and no washing, gentle housewife, can be done at sea. Damp and mildew make terrible havoc with your "nice things" on a protracted voyage. Here are peddlers of clothes, shoes, fancy boots, canes, shells and coral, five dollars a boatload, a rich acquisition to any college cabinet; "bum-boats," with full assortments of eatables, and drinkables, and wearables for the common sailors; and venders not a few of native birds and animals, particularly of those familiar caricatures of humanity, parrots and monkeys. You are boarded by a band of the far-famed Indian jugglers, who, upon the open deck of the ship, in broad daylight, watched by a hundred eyes, play all manner of deceptions with cups and balls, change dust into chalk, sand into charcoal, balls into eggs, and eggs into serpents, besides swallowing cold steel at such a fearful rate as to revive the old suspicion of collusion with the devil. This ready deception of the eye, the keenest and most trusted of all the senses. in open daylight, within three feet of you, and in a hundred ways, is enough, one would suppose, to make us forswear trust in the evidence of sense altogether. The "serang," or stevedore, with his gang of "lascars," comes each morning, with the coming of the sun, to lade or unlade the vessel. They are dark-skinned, muscular, nearly naked Madras-men, who hoist the cargo from the lighter to the hold, or from the hold to the lighter, with a wild wailing solo and chorus similar to those of the negroes of the South. More careful of their religion than of their morals are

principal landing, float, like half-grown
pumpkins, a lot of little heads, the proper-
ty of any quantity of sable arms and
black legs, kicking and sprawling like so
many frogs beneath the surface.
"Piçe,
sir! piçe!" is screamed in deafening din
from this mob of juvenile aquatics.
Throw overboard a few half-pence, and
witness the skill and avidity with which
these divers of six or eight summers—it
is always summer here-will bring them
to the surface! Throw coin from your
ship's side and they rarely fail to overtake
it before it reaches the bottom. How
their little coal-black eyes twinkle as they
rise to the surface, give their hairless
skulls a shake, and exhibit the coin se-
curely viced between two rows of beauti-
fully white and glistening teeth, which the
future use of the betel-nut and its vile ac-
companiments will make blacker than the
copper itself.

[ocr errors]

these semi-heathens; for when one of our men maliciously threw a bit of pork-as great an abhorrence to the Mussulman as to the Jew-into their pot of rice and curry, the old cook, with averted eyes, took the polluted vessel from the fire with a couple of sticks, and threw the dinner of the whole gang, pot and all, over the ship's side into the sea; yet when Mr. "Serang" was detected with charging the ship with the labour of twenty-nine hands, when, upon count before his eyes, it was found to consist of only twentyfive, he coolly replied that they had "laboured very hard, and in his judgment had done the work of twenty-nine!" They get fifty cents a day and board themselves, deem it a sacrilege to eat with a Christian or touch his meat, yet every day send a delicious dish of rice and curry to our cabin table. They are nightly rowed ashore by a handsome young Chinaman, who frequently rests Syce"-cabmen-throng the covered his diligent sanpan under our lee, smokes landing-place, a roof supported by neat his pipe with a bamboo handle three feet columns, and highly essential in a climate long, cooks his rice in the stern of his which vibrates between burning suns and boat with a few pine sticks over an pouring showers. These clamorous Jeearthen furnace, plies his chopsticks as if hus, the same, black or white, in Newfor a wager, and at the conclusion of his York or Singapore, struggle in noisy meal makes a finger-glass of the clear competition for your custom, restrained blue sea. He is one of the multitude of somewhat by the presence of a "Sepoy" "ship and shore" adventurers who come (native soldier) strutting to and fro in annually in junks to Singapore in quest of British regimentals, the gaudy badges of the proceeds of labor or the gifts of for- his own and his country's subjection. tune. He will spend the summer here, Well-armed are these dark officials, and paddling about the harbor at two to ten not disposed to dodge around the nearest cents a passage, and return home passing corner when a row occurs. Syce, sir! rich, at the change of the monsoon, with syce!" is the substitute for "Cab, sir!" forty Spanish dollars concealed in the from these troublesome "whips," who are, waistbands of the great, broad, grass- withal, by no means unwelcome, particucloth trousers flowing from his loins to his larly if you have a lady on your arm, as knees. The "dingey," or boat hired to heat, custom, and the tenacious dust of a wait on the ship during her stay in harbor, red soil, peculiarly attractive to white is manned by Malays, sinister-looking muslins, prevents her from indulging fellows, with good reflective faculties and extensively the exercise of the powers large fun, prone to sarcasm, suspicious, of locomotion. The carriages are small, deceitful, cruel, more readily managed by lumbering, glazed only in front, with Veirony than argument, as devoted to their netian blinds to slide down all around if religion as faithless to employers and necessary, and drawn by a single mule wives, sometimes full dressed in cotton pony, at whose head runs the half-naked shirt, turban, and trowsers, at others syce at the top of his speed. The novelty scantily clothed, and exposing a closely- of this six-legged mode of conveyance shaven skull fearlessly to the equatorial provokes mirth at first, but mirth is quicksun. Comfortably seated on matting, ly supplanted by admiration at the elegant and sheltered from sun and rain by a roof grace and litheness of limb, the elastic of bamboo, four or six of these sturdy oars- speed, and equestrian ease with which men will quickly set you ashore. these long-limbed, slender-bodied, sableAt the foot of the stone stairs of the haired runners keep pace with their thick

[ocr errors]

SINGAPORE.

set, shaggy-maned, cantering, panting, willful, and often vicious fellow-ministers to public convenience and pleasure. Fifteen cents an hour, or a dollar a day, are the terms prescribed by law upon which you may indulge in the luxury of a ride about town, or an evening drive among the carriages that deluge the esplanade.

decay. Here are English and Americans,
missionaries and merchants, naval officers
and common sailors, distinguished men
with simple head-stones, and infants under
preposterous colonnades of brick-work and
marble. Below us lie the roofs of elegant
dwellings, imbedded in evergreen foliage,
or glimmering among thick tropical shade-
trees; beyond is the harbor, with its flo-
tilla of junks, ships, steamers, and proas;
the chime of vesper bells comes with the
dying hum of the business of the day;
images of the distant living consort with

The streets of Malay Town are long, well-shaded avenues, thickly bordered with small inclosures, in which, a little back from the road, cluster the rude but populous huts of the natives in the midst of tall, ever-verdant shade trees, so numer-images of the distant dead, and throng ously interspersed as to convey the idea of a city in the woods.

Recessed in one of these shady inclosures you would not notice it unless it was pointed out to you-stands the Malay Mission-chapel, in which Rev. Mr. Keasberry, formerly of the London Missionary Society, preaches twice a week to a congregation of seventy-five Malays and half-castes, twelve of whom are baptized members of the Christian Church. A square or two from the chapel are extensive "dobey" grounds. Imagine the perspective of a winding brook, in which, for a quarter of a mile, "dobeys" stand in water up to their knees, alternately sousing linens and woolens in the running stream, and then swinging them over their heads as they beat them clean-of buttons at least-upon the flat rocks that line the shore! Acres

the excited recollection; familiar voices seem to mix with the murmurings of life rippling up from below upon the silent wastes of death, and tears mingle freely with the dew-drops wept by evening upon the graves of the lost and loved! Over the dense hedge-row is the Romish cemetery, carefully separated from the English, as if corruption could be tainted by corruption, or heresy infect the dead, or the devil, in quest of crosiers and miters, could mistake his own! Let us drive hence to the Chinese quarter. How its busy shops, built, like Pennsylvania villages, as near the curb-stone as possible, are thronged with artisans and tradesmen of every description! Why do not the cities of civilization roof in their side-walks from sun and rain by porticoes projecting from the second story, supported upon rows of slenof vacant green-sward are whitened with der columns, and affording secure observathe robes of Parsees, the turbans of Mo-tories to women and children above, and hammedans, and the shirts and pants of Christians, indiscriminately mingled and mangled by these human washing-or rather threshing-machines, yclept "dobeys." If you reflect that quicklime is substituted for soap, in addition to "cold scalds" and rough usage, all through the East, you will not wonder if the ward-place-that enrich themselves with the robes of residents, in a climate where white is so universally worn, (even to slippers and umbrellas,) stand in need of frequent replenishment. To the elevated and beautiful grounds of the governor-the embodiment of the majesty of the East India Company-we can have no access, since the arrival, a day or two since, of his excellency, with all the pomp of banners, bands, salutes, and military display. We may, however, linger at sunset in the embowered burial-place of the Protestant dead, full of recent tombs blackened by the climate, and crumbling to premature

safe quarters for displayed goods beneath. Awnings of canvas are miserable substitutes for the substantial coverings of the eastern bazaars. Here are fifteen thousand of the miserable victims of opium; and here are the conscienceless Europeans-there is no American house in the

sale of the drug. The members of the Church of England are better churchgoers than the Americans engaged in business abroad. The East India Company's chaplain reads prayers and sermons, at a salary of $400 a month, to a congregation of three hundred merchants and officials, half-castes, women and children. Malays manage the organ and orchestra; England and America prefer buying music to making it; while Mohammedans, stationed outside, work the "punkahs," or huge fans, suspended from the ceiling of the church, neutralize the effect of a

drowsy sermon, do away with the flutter of a thousand fans, and give the men, as well as women, a chance at fresh air. Such an arrangement, for summer use, would be of incalculable service to the United States, as necessary in July as stoves in January. Here they are used the year round, and glass and chimneys are alike superfluous. Singapore publishes two or three weekly newspapers, subscription price eight dollars a year! and its annual almanac and directory—a shilling pamphlet in New-York-costs a dollar and a half here. The thermometer ranges between seventy-five and eighty-five; seabreezes and frequent showers modify the heats of the climate, and render it healthful and pleasant. The roads, thanks to the rascality of British subjects, are beautiful. They are the work of convicts. Britain always builds good roads. At home, in Canada, in India, the valleys are filled and hills brought low in obedience to that principle of political economy that teaches the connection between facility of communication and national prosperity. I saw licensed carriages numbered as high as four hundred and seventy-nine; and one boat whose number figured nearly four thousand. In mine ignorance, I once happened to call Singapore a "city," and was taken to task by a good-natured church-woman for denominating that a city which had no cathedral Church and bishop are as essential to the British corporation as mayor and aldermen. The forms of social life conflict somewhat with the ideas of those Americans who have adhered to the modes of their fathers, and eschewed the European customs of " tiffin” at eight o'clock, breakfast at twelve, dinner at five, and tea at any time between that and midnight, and saying "good-morning" till sun down. The hospitalities of Singapore are generous, and life there as free from annoyances as elsewhere. Mosquitoes are no more troublesome than in New-York, Baltimore, or St. Louis; lizards sport by lamplight on the whited walls of well-furnished parlors, and tea-tables furnish their desserts of dissected reputations. The miniature crocodile is a harmless fly-catcher, and mangling the characters of the absent is not peculiar to this hemisphere. A score of missionaries have labored at Singapore. There is not one there now. forts for the salvation of its teeming multitudes of heathen are all those of in

66

Ef

[blocks in formation]

THE CALIFORNIA OYSTER.
OUT in California's gulf,
In the deep Pacific sea,
There's an Oyster ever working,
Dreary, damp, and silently!
Sad and lonely is his dwelling

On the banks beneath the tide-
No one ever calls upon him

In the realms of ocean wide,
Save, perhaps, some widow'd Mermaid,
As she braids her dripping locks,
Sits, a moment, down beside him,
On the sharp and sedgy rocks,
Twining in her tangled hair
Sprigs of coral, fresh and fair-
Heedless of her late disaster,
Longing for another master-
And she wonders how a shell-fish
Can become so very selfish,
As to shut his lip and eye
When such charms as her's are nigh!
Melancholy Fatalist!

Hermit of the ocean-cave,
Monk-marine, in cloisters gray,

Fathoms ten beneath the wave, Never moving, never stirring,

Lock'd within his coral walls!-
Sharks and whales and dandy dolphins,
Sporting in those cavern halls,
Far and wide forever roaming,

On each other madly prey;
But the Oyster, anchor'd firmly,
Never seeks the upper day.
He is quiet, peaceful, lonely,

Never asks another's aid,
Opes his mouth when food floats by him,
Shuts it when the debt is paid!
Robbers they, but, miser he,

Takes the spoils that round him whirl, And with patient, toilsome temper,

Coins the Oyster's wealth-a Pearl! Whales are spear'd to give us light, Oily beams dispel the night;

Dolphins die to glut the palate, Sharks vindictively are slain,

But the daring Diver plunges Deeply in the boiling main,

Dragging from their tranquil rest,
Pearls to sleep on beauty's breast!
Thus, within their silent cells,

Lonely STUDENTS toil forever,
While the striving world around them
Stills its pulse of passion never;—
But, at length, the sturdy Diver
In the philosophic deep,
Drags the hermit from his cavern
Never more to rest or sleep-
Drags him from his book and taper
To the blazing light of fame,
And the thought he coin'd in sorrow,
Like a pearl, enshrines his name!

[For the National Magazine.]

THE BLESSEDNESS OF GIVING.

TH

THE Great Teacher said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Is it? Did Jesus speak the truth? Do not be offended now, as if I were offering you an insult by asking such a question. It is most manifest that the great mass of mankind do not admit the truth of the sentiment. They do not believe a word of it. Their main object is to get all they can. They give as little as possible. Their happiness consists in accumulating. With them the saying is a paradoxical absurdity.

But is it more blessed to give than to receive? Do the professing followers of the Nazarene-Christians-assent to the truth of that saying of their Saviour? Very few venture to brand it as palpably false; and yet the number of those who assent to its truth as a simple proposition, applicable to all classes and at all times, is not a great deal larger.

that it will ever reach the specific object for which it is intended. But all that has nothing to do with the question. You are not responsible for the integrity or the honesty of those through whom your gift passes.

Nor is it essential to the validity of the sentiment that the man should be perfectly satisfied that the object for which he is asked to give be a good one. It is right for him to use his own judgment in the matter; but I am speaking of the sentiment itself, as it fell from the lips of Christ. He does not say, It is more blessed to give to a good object than to receive. If he had said that, nobody would have questioned the truth of the saying; for human selfishness would have found flaws everywhere, and a really good object would have been, just as it is indeed, an exceedingly rare thing.

Here now is an applicant for a portion, a small pittance, of that abundance wherewith God has intrusted you. His family are in want. Jesus says, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Do you believe him? Well, yes-that is, provided he and his family are sober, and honest, and industrious. Do you require all three? Very convenient that, and eco

It is true with certain qualifications. As, for instance, if a man is rich it may be more blessed to give than to receive. No doubt of it. But did you ever know a rich man? I never did. I have been nearly half a century in this world, have | nomical. It is about the same as saying: traveled somewhat extensively in both If no one needed charity I would give, hemispheres, yet have I never met the for most certainly you may live many man who admitted himself to be rich. I years without meeting a sober, and honest, have seen some who call a large piece of and industrious beggar who will afford the earth's surface their own, men whose you an opportunity to receive the blessing signature will procure an almost fabulous which Christ assures to them who-give. amount of gold, yet they assure me that I labor under a great mistake if I suppose them rich. And thus the Saviour's saying is made a complete nullity. The wealthiest man of your acquaintance compares himself with one who is wealthier, or with some imaginary standard, and admits that it may be more blessed to give than to receive when he shall have attained the ignis fatuus that dances in his vision; but not yet.

I repeat the question. Is the saying of the Saviour true? Is it more blessed to give than to receive? Yes, provided we are perfectly sure that what is given will be faithfully appropriated. Here again is an impossible condition annexed to the Saviour's language. You do not know that what you give to the missionary cause, for instance, or to any other, will be used wisely. Nor are you sure VOL. VII.-36

When there is an opportunity of practically evincing belief in this saying of the Lord Jesus, when there is a beggar at the door, how exceedingly fearful we are of being imposed upon. Is there any guilt incurred by being deceived? Shall we lose the promised blessing if it turns out that the pauper was not half so badly off as he pretended to be? The common law regards every man as innocent until he is proved guilty. The Christianity of our day seems inclined to reverse the process, and to conclude every applicant for alms as undeserving until the contrary is made so clear that there is not a peg to hang a doubt upon.

Certainly, if I know a cause to be in itself bad, or if I am quite sure that he who seeks my bounty is an impostor, I shall do wrong to give. But if I do not know; if, on the contrary, there is equal room for

« AnteriorContinuar »