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THE PASSES OF THE CORDILLERAS.
a resting-place, then the little flat space is coarsely walled in with The space enclosed between the gigantic ridges of the eastern hand, giving the idea of a rude but commanding fortress.
large fragments of rock, and such smaller stones as may be at and western Cordillera, or great and frigid mountain-chains of
The famous Cuesta of San Mateo, on the Tarma road from the Andes, is occupied by numerous table-lands, yielding short Lima, we passed in the year 1834, and could not but wonder how, fine grass, and extensive hilly pasture-ground, very like in general without any very serious accident, an army of cavalry, destined to outline to the Highlands of Scotland, though destitute of heath : celebrate the “fraternal embrace of Maquenguaio *,” had been and over this very uneven surface are interspersed lagoons and able to pass the same route a few months before, when the path rivers, and deep, warm, agricultural valleys, in the bottom of and staircases were yet wet and slippery from occasional showers ; which grow the richest fruits and produce of the coast; while the and when the lower or proper post-road was unfortunately impas. summits of the hills, that rise from and enclose these fertile dales, sable, from the destruction of one of the ordinary rustic bridges are exposed to the violence of the tempest in the elevated regions on the river or torrent, that runs at the bottom of the rock-locked of cold and barrenness. From one of these glens, where we once resided for some time, by which the waters rush foaming and raging in time of heavy
ravine through which the regular mule-way has been opened, and we left a house, at the door of which the lemon-tree was in inland rains. This stream, like all such impetuous torrents, perpetual fruit and blossom, and, in two or three hours thereafter, during the force of the rainy season on the high mouutains and arrived at the rugged crags and peaks of the eastern Cordillera.
table-lands, carries in its course a vast number of rolling stones, The lines of road from the western coast to the central Andes the thundering noise of which rises far above the roar of the white of Peru wind along narrow glens, sometimes contracting into
waters as these are thrown back, and resisted incessantly, by mere ravines, edged by lofty hills or prodigious rocks that close large blocks of rocky fragments that half-choke the narrow in abruptly. The traveller thus journeys for days, leaving one
channel, which at this remarkable place is bordered by immense hill behind, and meeting another rising before ; but never arrives rocks, looking as if they had been separated by violence, or rent at that ideal spot, whence he may command a view from sea
to give descent to the concentrated and united body of rivulets to sea, " Where Andes, giant of the western star,
that come from many a snowy peak, mountain lake, and marsh. Looks from his throne of clouds o'er half the world."
The hill along which runs the Cuesta road, rising on the face
of the steep that overhangs this part of the stream, is of itself a The highest mountains in Britain, such as Ben-Nevis or Crua- grand object; but that which is seen opposite to it has the greatest chan*, must appear very diminutive, when compared to the elevation of any single mountain in these narrow glens : and Andes, whose very vastness and extent preclude from the inland nothing of the kind can be more strikingly magnificent than to regions any view of the sun dipping under the waves of the behold it, girdled in verdure and capped in snow, from the summit Pacific, and whose magnitude limits the quickest sight to the of the Cuesta, where the traveller, tired with climbing, is invited groups of mountains, with their included dales, that go to form to draw breath, and look around him from the cross planted here, one stupendous pile of varied shape, production, and climate. as in almost every similar situation, by the pious among the
Many of the mountain roads, as they leave the bottom of the natives, who love to decorate this emblem of their faith with glens, and ascend, in more or less of a caracole, along the face of wreaths of fresh and fragrant flowers. But from the better route, formidable steeps, seem to bear date of origin from the Quichoa which winds by the river underneath, nothing of this sort is to be era, when the llama was the only beast of burden in the country. seen ; for here the hills on each side shelve in towards their These animals, like their Indian owners, delight inost in the cool rugged foundations, until they come so close as completely to of the hills ; but, when laden and on the road, their slow and overshadow the stream. Here, too, the rider may strain bis neck stately gait must not be hurried or interfered with, nor their in looking overhead; but his eye only meets, besides a strip of burden increased beyond their liking, which seldom exceeds the sky, pendulous succulents and tangling plants on the face of seventy or eighty pounds weight on a long journey : the Indian the incumbent ledge, with now and then a tlower-enamoured understands their way, and rules them by gentleness. As the “pica-flor" (humming-bird), as he fans, with a gracefully tremullamas are not for forced marches, and only make short stages of lous wing, the expanding blossoms that yield him delicate food three or four leagues daily, the paths that lead through pasture- and pastime. grounds are the best suited for them, and may have been con- These wilds of San Mateo reminded us forcibly of the miniature sidered by the ancient inhabitants of the land as a sufficient wilds of Glencoe, remarkable in Scottish history; and we thought, reason for striking off from a barren, though less elevated or as we passed them, of the bard of Cona (Ossian), who, in honour precipitous path, and climbing to eminences that yield an agree of the orb which the Peruvians once adored, sung with sublimity able temperature and some herbage to the indigenous companions and touching pathos :of their toil.
“O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers, When a person has occasion to traverse these narrow and whence are thy beams, o Sun! thy everlasting light? Thou fatiguing roads, it is necessary for hini to keep a good look-out, comest forth in thy awful beauty ; the stars bide themselves in lest he should clash with some rider or cargo-beast coming in the the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave ; opposite direction ; for there are places where it would be utterly but thou thyself movest alone. Who can be a companion of thy impossible to pass two a-breast; and there would be no small course?"- Peru as it is. danger, on meeting an impatient animal or careless horseman, that either party would be hurled over the brink, and consigned to the condors and eaglets that restle on the cliffs and in the dark
swift's EARLY LIFE. chasms of the crags.
Ar Moor-park, an eccentric, uncouth, disagreeable young Such dangerous passes are at some places so contracted that Irishman, who had narrowly escaped plucking at Dublin, attended the stirrup of the muleteer is seen to overhang the foaming stream, Sir William Temple, as an amanuensis, for £20 a-year and his or project beyond the verge of the boldest precipice; and every board, dined at the second table, wrote bad verses in praise of now and then they are made more formidable by abrupt angles his employer, and made love to a very pretty, dark-eyed young and insecure breast-work without parapets, hastily constructed girl, who waited on Lady Giffard. Little did Temple imagine, when the rush of a sudden torrent from the hollow of a hill, or that the coarse exterior of his dependant concealed a genius suited large stones rolling from the heights, have cleft the way so as to to politics and to letters—a genius destined to shake great kingrender it for a time impassable.
doms, to stir the laughter and the rage of millions, and to leave There are also many cuestas or rapid steeps, with here and to posterity memorials which can only perish with the English there flights of steps, roughly cut in the hard rock. By the way. language ! 'Little did he think that the flirtation in the servants' side, in tedious cuestas of several leagues in extent, recesses are, hall, which he, perhaps, scarcely deigned to make the subject of in numerous instances, worked out on the higher side of the road, a jest, was the beginning of a long prosperous love, which was which serve for the passengers to draw up while those from an to be as widely famed as the passion of Petrarch, or of Abelard. opposite direction are allowed to pass on, or where muleteers Sir William's secretary was Jonathan Swift. Lady Giffard's stop their cattle to adjust their cargoes, and tighten their lessos. waiting-maid was poor Stella.-Edinburgh Review. But when a rock or shoulder of a cliff juts out from the road towards the lower or precipice side, leaving more or less room for † By this embrace the victorious troops under General Bermudes forsook
his cause, and at once terminated hostilities by changing sidos and declaring * “ Cruachan,” the loftiest mountain in Argyleshire, well known to themselves soldiers of Orbegoso and the republic, which they ratified by tourists in Scotland.
embracing the troops that had fled before them on the day of battle.
PROGRESSION OR RETROGRESSION IN MORAL CHARACTER.
CHILDREN. If a man is not rising upwards to be an angel, depend upon it he is sinking
Children in all countries are, as Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, says, first vegetables, downwards to be a devil. He cannot stop at the beast. The most savage of
and then they are animals, and then they come to be people; but their way men are not beasts; they are a great deal worse.--Coleridge.
of growing out of one stage into another is as different in different societies,
as their states of mind when they are grown up. They all have limbs, LEECHES UNHURT BY FROST.
senses, intellects; but their growth of heart and mind depends incalculably Among the cold-blooded animals which resist the effects of a low tempe- upon the spirit of the society amidst which they are reared. The traveller rature, we may reckon the common leech, which is otherwise interesting must study them wherever ho meets them.-How to Observe, by Harriet to the meteorologist, on account of its peculiar habits and movements under Martineau. different states of the atmosphere. A group of these animals left acciden
RARE TIMES FOR SUITORS IN EQUITY. tally in a closet without a fire, during the frost of 1816, not only survived, but appeared to suffer no injury from being locked up in a mass of ice for
Then was the chancery so empty of causes, that Sir Thomas More could many days.—Howard on Climate.
live in Chelsea, and yet very sufficiently discharge that office; and coming
one day home by ten of the clock, whereas he was wont to stay until eleven A GAMMON OF BACON.
or twelve, his lady came down to see whether he was sick or not; to whom The custom of eating a gammon of bacon at Easter, still maintained in Sir Thomas More said, " Let your gentlewoman fetch me a cup of wine, some parts of England, is founded on the abhorrence our forefathers thought and then I will tell you the occasion of my coming ;" and when the wins proper to express, in that way, towards the Jews at the season of commemo- came, he drank to his lady, and told her that he thanked God for it he had rating the resurrection.-Drake's Shakspeare and his Times.
not one cause in chancery, and therefore came home for want of business
and employment there. The gentlewoman who fetched the wine told this HOME.
to a bishop, who did inform me.--Bishop Goodman's Diary.
SIR MATTHEW HALE'S CARE OF HIS WORKS.
The great Sir Matthew Hale ordered that none of his works should be
printed after his death ; as he apprehended, that, in the licensing of them, Unsavoury bread, and herbs that scatter'd grow
some things might be struck out or altered, which he had observed, not Wild on the river's brink or mountain's brow,
without some indignation, had been done to those of a learned friend; and he Yet e'en the cheerless mansion shall provide
preferred bequeathing his uncorrupted MSS. to the Society of Lincoln's Inn, More heart's repose than all the world beside.
as their only guardians, hoping they were a treasure worth keepingLeonidas of Tarentum. Burnet's Life of Sir Matthew Hale. THE SAP IN TREES.
INWARD BLINDNESS. The sap in trees always rises as soon as the frost is abated, that when the Talk to a blind man-he knows he wants the sense of sight, and willingly stimulus of the warm weather in the early spring acts upon the bud, there makes the proper allowances. But there are certain internal senses, which should be at hand a supply of food for its nourishment; and if by any means a man may want, and yet be wholly ignorant that he wants them. It is most the sap is prevented from ascending at the proper time, the tree infallibly unpleasant to converse with such persons on subjects of taste, philosophy, perishes. Of this a remarkable instance occurred in London, during the or religion. Of course, there is no reasoning with them : for they do not spring succeeding the hard winter of the year 1794. The snow and ice col- possess the facts on which the reasoning must be grounded. Nothing is lecting in the streets so as to become very inconvenient, they were cleared, possible, but a naked dissent, which implies a sort of unsocial contempt; or and many cart-loads were placed in the vacant quarters of Moorfields; what a man of kind disposition is very likely to fall into, a heartless tacit several of these heaps of snow and frozen rubbish were piled round some of acquiescence, which borders nearly on duplicity.-Coleridge. the elm-trees that grew there. At the return of spring, those of the trees that were not surrounded with the snow expanded their leaves as usual,
AN OLD SNATCH OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. while the others, being still girt with a large frozen mass, continued quite To tax any trade so that it cannot subsist under the payment, is not a bare; for the fact was, the absorbents in the lower part of the stem, and the means to raise the money, but to destroy the trade. That the dearness of a carth in which the trees stood, were still exposed to a freezing cold. In thing lessens the consumption, is a maxim which no man can deny ; but some weeks, however, the snow was thawed, but the greater number of the
there are some things of so diminutive a nature, that their spreading arises trees were dead, and those few that did produce any leaves were very merely from the consideration of their being trifles. Such are the innume sickly, and continued in a languishing state all summer, and then died. rable little printed tracts, from the ballad and primer at the price of one dikin's Natural History of the Year.
half-penny to the pamphlets of six-pence. When these come to be taxed,
wil they be sold ? Let any man judge by the tax nipon almanacs laid on last COLESHILL CUSTOM.
year, when a printer in Scotland returned 495 out of 500 stamps. It is stated They have an ancient custom at Coleshill, in the county of Warwick, that that the number of almanacs printed was three-fourths less than usual, and if the young men of the town can catch a hare, and bring it to the par son of that 60,000 stamps were returned to the government unsold. De Foe. the parish before ten o'clock on Easter Monday, the parson is bound to give them a calf's head, and a hundred eggs for their breakfast, and a grant in
TEA IN RUSSIA. money.--Blount.
The Russians are the most inveterate tea-drinkers out of China; and with MEMORY OF THE BULLFINCH.
such excellent tea as they have, the passion is quite excusable. Tea in
Russia and tea in England are as different as peppermint water and senda, Tame bullfinches have been known (says Buffon) to escape from the With us it is a dull, flavourless dose ; in Russia it is a fresh invigorating aviary, and live at liberty in the woods for a whole year, then to recollect draught. They account for the difference by stating that, as the sea air the voice of the person who had reared them, and return to her, never more
injures tea, we get only the leaves, but none of the aroma of the plant which to leave her. Others have been known, which, when forced to leave their
left Canton ; while they, on the other hand, receiving all their tea over-land, first master, have died of grief. One of them having been thrown down
have it just as good as when it left the celestial empire. Be the cause what with its cage, by some of the lowest order of people, did not seem at first it may, there can be no doubt of the fact, that tea in Russia is infinitely much disturbed by it, but afterwards it would fall into convulsions as soon
superior to any ever found in other parts of Europe. Englishmen are taken as it saw any shabbily-dressed person, and it died in one of these fits eight by surprise on tasting it; even those who never cared for tea before, drink months after its first accident.-Bechstein's Cage Birds.
on during the whole of their stay in Russia.-Bremner's Excursions in
THE HONEST MONK.
William Rufus having an abbey to bestow, several of the clergy, knowing could see remarkably well. She was then walking about in perfect health, the king to be covetous, bid large sums for the place. The king seeing a and cutting a new set of teeth.—Gentleman's Magazine,
monk stand by who offered nothing, asked him, “And what wilt thou give
for this abbey?" "Indeed not one penny," says the monk, "for it is EFFECT OF THE ATMOSPHERE ON HAIR.
against my conscience." “Then," says the king, "thou art the fittest man My own beard, which in Europe was soft, silky, and almost straight,
to be abbot ;" and so gave him the abbey immediately.-De Foe. began immediately after my arrival at Alexandria to curl, to grow crisp,
NUISANCES. strong, and coarse ; and before I reached Es-Souan resembled hare's hair to the touch, and was all disposed in ringlets about the chin. This is, no
The idle levy a very heavy tax upon the industrious, when, by frivolous doubt, to be accounted for by the extreme dryness of the air, which, ope
visitations, they rob them of their time. Such persons beg their daily haprating through several thousand years, has, in the interior, changed the hair piness from door to door, as beggars their daily bread; and, like them, of the negro into a kind of coarse wool.-St. John's Travels.
sometimes meet with a rebuff. A mere gossip ought not to wonder if we
evince signs that we are tired of him, seeing that we are indebted for the ALL SOULS' COLLEGE.
honour of his visit solely to the circumstance of his being tired of himself. Archbishop Chichly, having persuaded King Henry the V. to a warre with
He sits at home until he has accumulated an intolerable load of ennui, and France built a colledg in Oxon, to pray for the soules of those who were killed
he sallies forth to distribute it amongst all his acquaintance.-Colton's Lacon. in the warres of France. He called it Allsoules, as intended to pray for all, but more especially for those killed in the warres of France.- Ward's London: WILLIAM SMITH, 113, Fleet Street. Edinburgh: FRASER Diary.
& Co. Dublin: CURRY & Co.-Printed by Bradbury & Evans, Whitefriars
UPS AND DOWNS; A TALE OF THE ROAD. " That alters the case," replied the driver, and, without saying “Cast thy bread upon the waters; for thou shalt find it after many days." another word, he pulled up, and called on the boy to mount. The We are no enemies to improvemcut; yet improvement some
boy hesitated, and stared the surprise which he felt; he could not times effects changes which we cannot help regretting. In its believe that the invitation was in earnest. march, it occasionally sweeps away old land-marks, to which a long “Come up, you young rogue, you,” repeated the driver ;acquaintance had attached us. It now and then disturbs old “here's a gentleman going to pay your fare to Greenock, although associations, and removes objects and customs on which some of I dare say you don't deserve it ; for I'm sure you've run away from our pleasantest recollections were wont to dwell.
the loom, or some other honest calling, and left your mother with It is in a spirit of this kind that we contemplate the departing
a heavy heart." glories of stage-coach travelling, and all the joys of the road. The
The boy now no longer hesitated, but, catching the projecting Aashing, rattling, dashing carriage-and-four,-the good-humoured, iron footstep of the coach, was in a twinkling seated on the top, civil, intelligent, and story-telling guard, full of anecdote and fun; apparently to his very great satisfaction. - the village inn (the stage), the changing of horses, with all its
“This affair, sir, of picking up the boy," said the driver, after exciting and amusing accompaniments ;-the fresh start, and the
we had again started, “puts me in mind of a rather curious incigeneral hilarity which the sense of rapid motion, seconded by a
dent that happened some years ago on this road." bright shiny day, never fails to inspire. All this is about passing
“Ay," said we; “what was it?". away. The little that has been left by the steam-boat will soon be
“I'll tell you what it was," said our friend the driver; and ho extinguished by the dull, monotonous railway.
immediately gave us the following story :One of the first, if not the very first, lines of road in Great
“ About fifteen years ago,” he began, “there was amongst my Britain, whose prosperity was invaded by the steam-boat, was that passengers, one day, a lively, kind-hearted, buxom elderly lady, between Glasgow and Greenock.* The steam-ships of the Clyde seemingly well to do in the world ; for she was clad in silks, and quickly laid up the Glasgow coaches in the coacb-yard, turned sported a purse a yard long and well filled. adrift their guards and drivers, arrested the life and bustle that
“Well, just as we were getticg along, as we are just now, pervaded its whole length, and reduced it to what it now is and not above a mile from this very spot, we overtook a boy in merely the ghost of a road.
precisely the same situation as this one here ; he was barefooted, But it was once otherwise with the Greenock road, and well do too, and was sadly knocked up with walking; he could hardly we recollect the long coaches, like so many Noah's arks mounted crawl along, and his face was all begrimed with weeping. The on wheels, that used to ply in dozens on that now despised and poor boy appeared to be in sad case, to be sure. Well
, the good neglected highway, and the many pleasant and merry excursions soul, my lady passenger, seeing him, her honest, motherly heart on which they joyously bore us. It was on one of these occasions bled for the poor boy. She thrust her head out of the window, that we picked up the following incident.
and called on me to stop. I did so. She then pulled out her On the occasion alluded to, we were proceeding to Greenock by purse, and putting some silver into my hand (double the amount the--we forget the name of the coach, but it was one whose panels required), desired me to hand the boy into the coach, she having were adorned by a series of pictorial representations of oak-leaves, previously obtained the leave of the other passengers to do so. I green oaks ; referring to the commonly believed bat false etymology immediately did as she desired me,-thrust the boy into the coach, of the name of the town above mentioned. We were seated beside slapped close the door, mounted to my seat, and drove off. the driver, a fine intelligent old fellow, who had been upon the
“I, of course, knew no more of what passed at this time. I road for upwards of twenty years. It was a delightful day, and laid down my passengers, boy and all, at the White Hart inn, we were rolling cheerily along, when we came suddenly, at a turn Greenock; and there my knowledge of them ended. of the road, upon a boy, of ten or twelve years of age, who was
“Two or three days after this, however, I happened to have one trudging the footpath towards Greenock. He seemed sorely
of the gentlemen up with me again wbo was passenger when the fatigued, and so exhausted that he could hardly prosecute his lady brought the boy into the coach, and he told me that she was journey. Compassionating the poor boy's situation, (for he was
extremely kind to him, as kind as a mother could have been. On very indifferently clothed,) we called the driver's attention to him, their arriving at the White Hart, she took him into the house, and and hinted that he might do a worse thing than give the poor lad a gave him a plentiful supper, paid for his bed there, and breakfast seat on his coach. Our friend demurred, alleging that he might next morning, and at parting put a guinea into his hand. The boy be found fault with ; and adding something about the boy's being, stated that he had been bred a weaver, frankly owned that he had he had do doubt, some run-away apprentice from Glasgow, going
run away, but gave as a reason the harsh treatment of a stepto Greenock to enter on board ship as a sailor ; such occurrences mother, and an unconquerable aversion to the loom. He also being frequent in these days.
added, that it was his intention to go to sea, and that he had a “We will give you a reasonable fare for the boy,” said we.
maternal uncle in Greenock, a carpenter, who, he had no doubt, * Some of our London renders may not bo aware that Greenock stands would assist in getting him a ship, although he did not well in somewhat the same relation to Glasgow that Gravesend does to London.
know where to find this relative.
Bradbury and Evans, Printers, Whicefriars.
“Well, you see, sir," continued the narrator, “time, after this, "" "To Glasgow, sir,' she replied. 'I live there, and have been wore away as it had done before, year after year, and here was I down at Greenock, seeing some friends there, who, I hoped, might still handling the whip, as I am doing now. Ten years, I think, or have done something for me. But they all had some excuse or thereabouts, had passed away, and I had long since forgotten all apology for not assisting me, and have sent me away nearly as about the boy and his kind patroness, when a swashing, fine- poor as I went; and that, God knows, was poor enough.' looking, gentlemanly young fellow, with the cut of a sailor about “Never mind, mother, pop in there in the meantime,' said the him, although wearing a long coat, and sporting rings on his sailor, holding the door of the coach in one hand, and taking the fingers and a bunch of gold seals at bis watch, mounted one day on arm of the old woman with the other, to help her in. 'Pop in, the coach-box beside me. He had engaged and paid for an inside and we'll carry you comfortably through to Glasgow, and give you seat, but took the out from choice.
a bit and a sup by the way, to keep your old heart up.' "Well, old fellow,' said he, (for, like all his class, he was “Having seen the old woman seated, the captain secured the frank and cheerful ;) 'Well, old fellow,' he said, sitting down door, and resuming his seat by me, we drove on. beside me,up with your anchor, and get under weigh. Come, “On reaching Bishopton inn, where we change horses and rest that's it,' as he saw me lay the whip to the horses, 'give her a bit, the captain, the moment the coach stopped, leapt down, way there,--send her through it, my hearty. It's a long while opened the coach-door, and handing out the old woman, led her since I was on a coach before, though I've been in a gig often into the inn, and asked for a private room for himself and her. enough.'
They were shown into one, when the captain ordered some refresh. "Well, then,' says I, sir, them 's more dangerous than ment to be brought,—some cold fowl, and some wine and brandy. coaches.
“He now placed the old woman at the table, and began helping "** Avast there,' says he, 'what sort of gigs do you mean?' her to the various good things that were on it. While this was "6Why, two-wheeled ones, in course,' says I.
going on, he sent for me. When I entered Come away, skip"Aha, out there, old boy,' says he, slapping me on the per,' said he, seemingly much delighted with his employment of shoulder ; 'the gigs I mean have no wheels at all.'
helping old mother,' as he called her, to the nicest morsels he " Queer codgers they 'll be,' says I.
could pick out,— Come away, skipper,' said he, and let us see " " Not a bit,' says he. “Aren't ye up, old fellow Don't ye how you can splice the main brace.' Saying which, he filled me know that a certain kind of small boat belonging to a ship is called up half a tumbler of brandy and water. a gig?'
“ In the meantime, the old lady had finished her repast, and, *** Didn't know it, sir,' said Í.
under the influence of the comfortable feelings which the refresh"Well, you know it now, old chap; so bear it in mind, and ment she had taken had excited, she began to get a little talkative. I'll give you a glass of brandy and water at Bishopton.'
Well,' said she, after again thanking her entertainer for his “Well, you see, sir," continued the narrator, “all this is not kindness, 'it is curious how things do sometimes come about ; for much to the purpose of my story ; but I just wished to give you I cannot but look, sir,' (addressing the captain,) on your kindsome notion of the pleasant off. hand way of my passenger. ness to me this day as a return from the hand of Providence for a
“Having cleared Cartsdyke, we were getting along cheerily, similar act of charity that I once bostowed on a needy person, when the captain,--for I had by this time found out that my pas- and that not very far from where we are at this moment sitting. senger was captain of a large West-India ship that had just arrived | It's now, I think, about ten years since,' continued the old lady, at Greenock, and that he was now on his way to Glasgow to see that, as I was going down by coach to Greenock-I was then in his owners, who resided there—I say, we were getting along easy circumstances-had plenty of the world, for my husband was heerily, and were within about three miles of Bishopton, when then living, and carrying on a thriving business—I saw a poor boy the captain spied a decent-looking but poorly dressed old woman, limping along the foot path, and seemingly exhausted with both trudging along the footpath.
hunger and fatigue. "• 1 say, skipper,' says he to me, what do you think of our "Well, sir, pitying the poor young thing, I had him taken into shipping that poor old girl, and giving her a list on her voyage ? the coach, treated him as kindly as I could, and provided him with She seems hardly able to make any way to win'ard.'
a night's quarters in the White Hart inn, and put a trifle of money "Not being very fond of picking up stragglers in that sort of into his hand besides.' way, I at first objected. When I did so, he exclaimed, with a “ I wish, sir,” here interposed my informant, speaking in his sailor's oath, 'I shall have the old girl on board. I'll never forget own person, you had but seen the captain's face while bis guest that I was in a similar situation once myself; nor will I ever forget was relating this incident. It grew pale, then flushed, while his the kind old soul of a woman that lent me such a hand as I am eyes sparkled with an expression of intense feeling; he was, in now about to lend to her. I'll never pass any poor devil in these short, greatly excited. At length, jumping from his seat, be circumstances again,-man or woman, old or young,—without rushed towards the old lady, and seizing both her hands in his, offering them a berth in the craft in which I'm sailing, so long as exclaimed in a rapture of joythere's room to stow them.' Saying this, and at the same time "God bless your old heart, mother 1-1, and no other, am-or adding, that he would pay me all charges, he sprang off the coach, rather was—the boy whom you so generously relieved on that and had the old woman by the hand in a twinkling, leading her occasion. I recollect it well ; and, now that my attention is called towards the coach, which I had now stopped.
to it, I recognise in your countenance that of my benefactress. "God bless you, sir,' said the old woman, as she tottered That countenance was long present to my memory, and the kind along with him. It will, indeed, be a great relief to me. I am deed with which the reminiscence was associated is still treasured not so able to walk as I once was, and far from being so well able up in my inmost heart. I never-never forgot it, and never will.' to pay for any other conveyance; and I have a long road before “ It was now the poor old woman's turn to be surprised at the me.'
strange incident which had occurred, and much surprised she " Where are you going to, my good old woman?' said the was, I assure you. She clutched the young man's hand with her captain.
palsied fingers, and looked earnestly in his face for a second or two,
as if struggling to identify it with that of the boy whom, ten years claimed that there were “ Lodgings to let," and was on the before, she had relieved in his distress. At length
point of being received under the feigned character of a milliner's " • Yes, sir, you are the same,' she said. “I recollect that apprentice, when the man, from whose house she had escaped,
and who had followed her, came up, and threw her into woeful boy's look well, and though you are much ed—being now a
confusion. She was treated as an impostor, threatened with the tall, stout, full-grown man–I can trace that look still in your watch-house, and at length turned into the street. Here she sun-burnt face. Well, sir,' she added, ' you have repaid the wandered till two o'clock in the morning, when she found herself
at Holborn Bridge. Seeing the York stage, which she underkindness.'
stood to be full, set off, she entered the inn, pretended she was a ** Have I, indeed! No, that I haven't l'exclaimed the cap- disappointed passenger, and solicited a lodging. Here she retain. "That's not the way I pay such debts. However, we'll mained for the night, and the next day was told that another talk more of the matter when we get to Glasgow; for the skipper York stage would set off in the evening. This intelligence being
communicated with an air of suspicion, which was extremely here, I see, is impatient to get us off.'
mortifying, she immediately took out all the money she had, to “And such was the case—my time was up. So we all got, as her last half-crown, and absolutely paid for a journey she never the captain would have said, on board again, and started.
intended to take. The landlady, now satisfied, invited her to "I may mention here," continued the narrator, “ that I, too, breakfast, but this she declined, saying she was in haste to visit
a relation. Thus she escaped the expense of a breakfast, and, on now perfectly recollected the incident of the boy's being picked up, returning to the inn, stated that her relation wished her to remain and recognised, in my present passenger, the old woman, the in town a few days longer. By this means she secured her apartperson who had done that act of charity. The captain, however, I ment, and avoided the expense of living at the inn, by subsisting should not have known; of his face I had no recollection whatever.
on what she could afford to purchase in her walks, whilst the
people at the inn supposed her to be entertained by her relation. “Well, sir, I have now only the sequel of the story to tell you, Her finances were at length so exhausted, that for the last two and shall make it short.
days that she remained at the inn, she subsisted on two half“Captain Archer—for that was the name of the gentleman of penny rolls, and the water contained in the bottle in her bedwhom I have been speaking-having ascertained that his benefac
Meantime she occupied herself in seeking an engagement with tress was in very distressed circumstances, her husband having some theatre, and was willingly listened to by several managers, died a bankrupt some years before, gave her a handsome sum in her beauty procuring her a ready hearing ; but, alas ! it also hand to relieve her immediate necessities, and settled on her an procured her insulting offers, which she indignantly rejected. It
was under these circumstances that she sought advice from Mr. annuity of thirty pounds per annum, which was duly paid till her | Inchbald, an actor of reputation, and a man of middle age, whom death by the owners of the ship he commanded."
she had seen at Bury St. Edmonds, and accidentally met in London. He did all he could to soothe her sorrow, and calm the
distress she felt at the conduct she had experienced, and recomBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.
mended marriage as her only protection.
• But who would marry
me?" cried she : “I would," replied Mr. Inchbald, with eager MRS. INCHBALD.
warmth, "if you would have me.” The lady cousented, and
they were married in a very few days after this singular declaraTais lady, whose name is well known as the authoress of The tion. Although there was very little love, on the lady's side at Simple Story, Nature and Art, and a host of dramatic pieces, was least, in this connexion, yet they lived comfortably together : it born at Staningfield, a farm in the neighbourhood of Bury St. is true that some domestic discords are recorded by Mrs. Inchbald Edmonds, in the county of Suffolk, on the 15th of October, 1753. in a diary, some fragments of which have been preserved, chiefly Her father, who died in her infancy, left a large family of daughters, on account of Mrs. Inchbald's desiring to appropriate some porall, but particularly Elizabeth, the subject of this memoir, remark- tion of their gains to the relief of her sisters, who had fallen into able for personal beauty. At the age of sixteen she is described difficulties, a measure which Mr. Inchbald strenuously opposed. as being " tall, slender, straight, of the purest complexion, and Further than this no disagreement appears to have interrupted the most beautiful features ; her hair of a golden auburn, and her harmony of their union. eyes full at once of spirit and sweetness. Her education had, Mr. Inchbald carried his wife to Bristol, where she appeared in however, been totally neglected, and although she possessed a the character of Cordelia ; they subsequently went to Edinburgh, strong love of reading, it was not to be expected that her choice and continued there some years, deriving sufficient emolument should always be the wisest. Nor are we surprised that illo from their joint labours to enable then to live comfortably. Mr. directed reading, and a casual acquaintance with some member of Inchbald’s health began to fail, and on leaving Edinburgh, a step, the Norwich Theatre, should early have inspired her with a pas according to some biographers, caused by a disagreement with sion for the stage.
Mrs. Yates, the celebrated actress, she and her husband paid a Her first effort to gratify this inclination was an application to visit to France, where Mr. Inchbald proposed to follow the pro. the Norwich manager, which was unsuccessful. Her disappoint- fession of a painter, having a tolerable knowledge of that art. ment did not damp her resolution, and in April, 1772, she secretly This scheme was unsuccessful, and, on their return from France, left her home, and repaired to London, where she found herself they were reduced to great straits for want of money, and found in a situation of great difficulty. More than one of her sisters, it considerable difficulty in procuring permanent engagements. is true, had married, and were settled in London ; but her object Liverpool, Birmingham, and various other places, were visited would have been frustrated had they been aware of her presence. without success, until at length they found a haven at York, She had therefore intended to seek a distant relation, who lived where they resided until the death of Mr. Inchbald, in 1779. in the Strand; but on reaching the house, she found her friend | At York their gains amounted to about two guineas and a half a had retired from business, and was settled in North Wales. It week, from which they contrived to save somewhat, and Mrs. was near ten o'clock at night, and her distress at this disappoint. Inchbald was enabled to afford a little assistance to her sisters, ment moved the compassion of the people of the house, who two of whom were now widows, and in very reduced circumkindly offered her a lodging for the night. This civility, however, stances. awakened her suspicions : she had read in Clarissa Harlowe of After her husband's death, Mrs. Inchbald still continued her various modes of seduction practised in London, and feared that profession, and in the beginning of the next year accepted a short similar intentions were meditated against her. These reflections engagement at Edinburgh ; she then returned to York, but soon occurring directly after she had accepted of the proffered accom- finally quitted it, and proceeded to the metropolis, where she had modation, and being strengthened by an appearance of prying procured an engagement, and where she continued to perform till curiosity in her entertainers, Elizabeth suddenly seized her band- | 1789, when she retired from the stage. Her success as an actress box (all her luggage), and, without a word of explanation, rushed was never great, her histrionic powers not rising above the level out of the house, and left them to conjecture that she was either of respectability; but her fine face and elegant figure gave her a maniac or an impostor. She ran she knew not whither; at great advantages. length she stopped at a house where a bill in the window pro. Immediately on her arrival in London, she began that cour se of