of the churchyard, deposited the remains of him who had ment. Such, O gracious God! (I exclaimed) is thy will: once been so dear to them. When the coffin was lowered thou sparest neither the rich nor the poor. When it into the peaceful grave, and the earth rattled on its lid, the seemeth good to thee, thou takest us hence: and, though mother triumphed over the Christian, and, starting from our present life may be cheerless and cloudy, thou canst those who supported her, she gazed on the now rapidly-render our future life bright and glorious,-like that disappearing coffin, and exclaimed,—“ Oh, my William! beauteous orb now sinking behind the hill. Oh! grant I must follow thee! Who shall support me? Who shall that my sun may set as brightly; I shall then forget all enable thy father to bear his loss? Come to us, my child, my sorrows. P. P. or call us to thee!" and deemest thou I shall be remiss? Never! she never can be thine! Nay, start not, nor lay thy hand upon thy dagger; thou canst not harm me!"-"I here," said Rodolph, “abjure all further league with thee; from this time henceforth obtrude thyself no more upon my presence, or perchance thou wilt rue thy rashness!"-"Obtrude myself no more upon thy presence!" quoth she. "I shall see thine hall grown wild with rank weeds, and these lordly towers eyries for the eagles, and where float thy banners now, the owl shall hold her seat !"—" Hag!" "Nay, nay, Mrs. Brown," said a young girl who stood exclaimed Rodolph, foaming with rage, "canst tell me by, and who seemed as much afflicted as the bereaved why I am marked out for all this evil destiny ?"" In parent, " 'tis wrong thus to give way; God will bring you expiation of thy deeds," answered she. "I'll name some through, if you pray to him. I will strive to fill his (Wilthat would make a softer heart than thine to cease its liam's) place to you. You know he bid you put your beatings. Thou rememberest, some years ago,-'twas trust in God. I never knew any one so happy in death such a night as this,-I entered this apartment unawares, as William was."-" "Twas going to sleep," said another, * and hearing a faint scream, and stifled groan, concealed convinced that he should rise happy." Yes, yes, I myself behind the arras; there I saw thee grasp a female's know he is happy," said the wretched mother; but throat: I approached and saw-Good Heaven! it was thy we Here her sobs again checked her utterance, sister Isabelle! True, thou didst stammer forth a prayer and half led, half dragged, she quitted the side of the when thou sawest me, but she lay lifeless at thy feet!"-grave. In the meantime, those who carried the litter (Here she broke out into a horrid laugh, which made the lowered it, in order to allow its wretched occupant another apartment echo.) No more!" cried Rodolph: "I am look at the almost hidden coffin, and, then, replacing it weary of the world: I would that it were poised upon a on their shoulders, followed the weeping mother, and needle's point, that I might push it off, and thus anni- endeavoured to stem the torrent of wretchedness which hilate it. Thou sayest that I shall never gain the object threatened to overwhelm this afflicted couple. of my constant care; my hopes shall be defeated; and "Who was he?" said I, pointing to the grave." As that I shall be a wretched outcast on the earth: then, like good a lad as ever lived," said one of the many who still the comet in its erratic course, I'll leave a trace behind lingered round his lonely bed. "They may well fret, that shall mark my progress."-" Nay, thou wilt be for there never was a more dutiful son. He would never, foiled at every turn," answered she: "thine evil genius till about six months since, leave his home. Who will shall haunt thy steps, true as thy shadow; and the proud wait on my father? (he would say ;)-what will he suo will shine not down upon a greater wretch than thou." do, if I leave him?' for his father, poor man! has been -"Beware!" said Rodolph, sternly, at the same time in this same state ever since William was a child."— half-unsheathing a dagger, which was stuck in his richly-" He was from home, then, when he died?" said I, inembossed girdle." I scorn thy threats, as I defy thy quisitively." Yes," said one of the bearers," he came power!" answered she, with a determined tone.-"Oh! to live among us: he was only ill a week."" Poor felI have long and nobly dared to gain mine idol," said he low!" said I. "Was he married?"-"No: he would with agony: "I have racked and tortured my invention not marry while his parents lived: he gave them all he to devise plans to obtain it, and have nearly matured them could save, and little enough it was, for he had only all; and thus thou comest to blast my prospects; hell is twelve pounds a year in his place, and found himself in upon thy tongue, and thy cursed words have a more fear- clothes. If he had married, it would have been to that al import than e'er was breathed before: if, that thy lass you saw by the side of his mother. While he was legation has the stamp of truth, bearing, as it does, its ill, he spoke feelingly of what his parents would suffer at semblance, ere I die I'll send more souls before me than his death. I am sure (said he) Betsey will do all she can the numberless hairs upon thine head; and thus-" he to comfort them.' But come, neighbours," said my inwas in the act of springing forward to stab her, when he formant, " you know that we have a long way to go, and, Karted back, the dagger dropping from his nerveless hand, if we don't mind, we shall be benighted."-"You will nd he sank down upon the floor. Morna opened the require some refreshment before you go," said I: "if ret pannel behind the portrait, and hastily closing it you will go to the Swan, I will pay. His parents are too fter her, disappeared. poor to treat you as you deserve; besides, you know, the expenses of the burial a are good deal for them to pay.""Begging your pardon, Sir," said the one who had all along acted as spokesman," his burial will be no expense to his parents; we brought him for love, not for money, and we clubbed together to pay all the expenses."-" You are generous lads," said I, delighted to find such kindness among them; "take this among you," offering some money to them at the same time. A consultation then took place, which ended in their taking half the money, and begging me to give the other half to the parents; after which they thanked me, and bade me a good night. [ORIGINAL] THE VILLAGERS SON. Washington Irving has so well described the miseies of a wet Sunday, at a country inn, that you will be surprised to hear, that, after enduring one, unenvened even by a Stout Gentleman," I sallied forth ith the first beam of returning sunshine, taking, as is y usual way, the road towards the church. I found e churchyard already occupied ; and, in a few minutes, a aneral approached. The pall was supported by six young hen, after whom came a female, who was, as I afterwards amed, the mother of the deceased, and then a kind of litter, on which the father was carried, his limbs having a long while failed to perform their wonted office. The grief of all present convinced me that the deceased was greatly beloved, and the little white favours, attached to kitar hatbands, declared that he was young. They entered the church. The minister, in a most im pressive manner, read the funeral service. No sound disturbed that most awful yet most beautiful ceremony, save the sobs of the agonized parents. The service finished, the procession retraced their steps, and, in a lonely part Left to myself, I strolled round the newly-made grave. The spot was beautiful. The little white-washed church stood at the end of a lane; two large yew-trees graced its entrance. The humble cemetery was surrounded by a very thick holly hedge, which afforded ample shelter to this last home of Mortality's children. Here every thing was at rest; not a sound to be heard. Surely, thought I, to be buried in such a place as this, would deprive death of half its terrors.-Casting my eyes to a corner of the churchyard, I observed one large tomb, which broke the humble appearance of the whole. This must belong to the manorial house (said I to myself as I approached.) I was right. A few short months ere that, the Lord of the Manor had consigned his only child to this tranquil tene. Farnham, October 5, 1826. BRUSSELS. I promised to say something more of Brussels, and then to take my leave of it. We have considered this capital stance clearly shown by the comparative absence of disease with reference to the healthiness of its situation, (a circumduring the present summer, whilst in many parts of the Netherlands the inhabitants have been dying in great numbers,) the cheapness of living, and the society which an Englishman of respectable habits and connexions may form here. desirable residence. It is a free capital, governed by In some other points of view Brussels is a equitable laws, and honoured, during six months of the year, with the presence of a virtuous and constitutional Sovereign. It is not in every metropolis that such a being as this can be met with. It is not in every place where there are kings (and there is no lack of them) that we see them personally inquiring into the condition of their subjects, receiving their petitions, redressing their wrongs, and relieving their necessities. Were their nothing else than this to admire at Brussels, it would go far to reconcile one to a six months' residence. But there are many things else to admire. Brussels is the nursery of talent, the growth of whatever clime, and howsoever driven thither for refuge and protection. It shielded the greatest painter of the age from the malice of his adversaries; it shelters now many painters, and many writers, who have been exiled from their native homes for their love of liberty. The musician of Italy, whose soul had been warmed with the inspirations of freedom, at the same time that it received the breathings of harmony, the outcasts of Spain and Naples, many of whom honoured by their talents the home from which they have been expelled, are here protected by the government, and supported by the people. capital than in any place of the same size in the universe. There is, perhaps, altogether, more foreign talent in this As a focus of literature, Brussels is by no means contemptible. Compared with the size of Paris, its diurnal publications are as four to one in favour of Brussels, and political and scientific treatises. London, with its million scarcely a week passes without producing several excellent and a half of inhabitants, has thirteen daily newspapers; Brussels, with little more than the fifteenth part of this population, has six daily newspapers. This may be accounted for, perhaps, by the difference in price; a Brussels London paper for a month; but it must be allowed that paper for a year costing little more than the expense of a the Bruxellois are a reading and reflecting people. Every body knows that there is a grand theatre at Brussels, where the Flemish boors may learn French nightly, at about sevenpence English, for a four hours' sitting. Whether they understand the language or not, is not easily known, for they are not over communicative; but, as the paradis (gallery) is the only part of the theatre decently filled, we may presume that they admire and understand the performances, which are always carried shillings, and pence, the Brussels theatre is a poor speon by respectable French actors. As a matter of pounds, culation; but the King makes up the deficiency to the manager, and so the drama lingers on its existence. Of all things in the world most worthy of admiration, let us notice the police of Brussels. I know not whether they have a great book here or not, but certainly there is nothing to offend or disgust in the streets or the theatre, and much that might be adopted in England with benefit.+ But enough of Brussels. It has its attractions and its faults. The latter preponderate, or not, according to the and in most cases it may be tried with advantage. tastes of those who visit it. It is at any rate worth a trial, tution. The Great Book is the French Police Register of ProstiThere is no mincing these things in France. If a woman of light conduct, whatsoever her station in life, be tions, down she goes upon the Great Book. Her five francs caught two or three times as a party in suspicious assigna monthly subscription are demanded, as from a common prostitute, and she is subject to la visite from the officier de Santé. An English lady of some rank, but light morals, was once nearly caught by the police. The latter behaved civilly, amours in future. however, and sent her a note to advise more caution in her + Sir Richard Birnie, and your west end magistrates, nuisances in the streets as your magistrates tolerate. might have a lesson here. Brussels has no such public Wake not the trembling chords again, Devote to tears and sighs; Thine, minstrel sweet, should be the strain A distant age might prize; Oh, sing no more of love, dear maid, Or go, entwine a garland rare Of flowers, in heaven that bloom, And cheer the sickening heart of care With hopes beyond the tomb! TO MR. VANDENHOFF, ON HIS PERFORMANCE OF OTHELLO. Thy bosom beats with love!-the melting eye, But the strong doubt doth master thee, and thou Deep-settled resolution of despair, (When the worn heart hath neither thought nor care,) All milder things and better hopes doth spurn. And we, spectators of the tragic scene, Or, be the lyre attuned of thee To balm-dispensing sympathy! Or weave a wreath the brows to bind Of contemplation mild; "Oui," disait, en son sermon, Le pasteur avait à peine ment, or the cries of a little nursling was heard, betoken ing that, in the general flight, it had been left in unskilfu hands; or, mayhap, here and there a solitary, ragged, an ill-natured schoolboy was seen, or a not less solitary an ill-natured dog, either seeming but half appeased by th privilege of a holiday, granted on condition of staying a home-the whole village exhibited a picture of desertion and silence which had been unknown before. But in proportion as you drew nearer the ponderous cliffs, in the midst of which the little town of Redcliff was situa ted, you mingled again in the thick bustle and motion the world, of men, and women, and boys, and horses, an dogs, and all living, moving, and creeping things that in habit the wild districts of Pennsylvania. The village itself was crowded to overflowing long b fore the sun had gained a sufficient altitude to throw i rays upon the deep valley in which it lay. There the b of an inn was crowded, and the fumes of tobacco and whi key, the jingling of small change, and the perpetual d mour of the throng, were sufficient to rack a brain of com mon flexibility. In the streets there was a greeting of s and long-parted acquaintances; the bartering of horses the settling of old accounts; the buffoonery of half-intos icated men; the clatter of women; the crying and hallo ing of children and boys, and the barking and quarrell of stranger dogs. To look upon the scene, to mingle w the crowd, to listen to the conversation, or to survey countenances of the assembled multitude, led to no sati factory solution of the cause for which this mass of heter genous matter was congregated. Within the walls of the old stone jail at the foot of th mountain, a different scene had been that morning wi nessed. There, chained to a stake in the miserable du geon, damp, and scarcely illuminated by one ray of light now lay the emaciated form of one whose final doom seemed near at hand. A few hours before, his wife and littl daughter had travelled a hundred miles to meet him once more on the threshold of the grave; they met, and froth that gloomy vault the song of praise ascended with the as cending sun; and the jailer, as he listened to the melodi ous voices of three persons whom he looked upon as the most desolate and lost of all in the wide world, blende sweetly together, and chaunting the beautiful hymn, "It is the Lord! should I distrust, Or contradict his will," &c. almost doubted the evidence of his senses, and stood i fixed astonishment at the massy door. Could these be th voices of a murderer and a murderer's wife and child? This brief, and to be final, interview had passed, howeve those unfortunate ones had loudly commended each oth to the keeping of their heavenly Parent, and parted; he face the assembled multitude on the scaffold, and they, they said, to return by weary journeys to their sorrow home. The convict, worn out with sickness and watching now slept. His name was Jason Creel, his place of residence said be in Virginia. He had been taken up while travellin from the northward to his home, and tried and convict at a country town some miles distant, for the murder of traveller, who had borne his company from the Lakes, was ascertained to have a large sum of money with hi and who was found in the room in which they both slep at a country inn, near Redcliff, with his throat cut. Cr always had protested his innocence, declaring that the da was perpetrated by some one while he was asleep; but t Required the best mode of forcing a conclusion of this circumstances were against him, and though the mon game. "I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them." (From an American Paper.) THE DEATH WARRANT. "The last, the fatal hour has come." The mists of the morning still hung heavily on the mountain top, above the village of Redcliff, but the roads which led towards it were crowded with the varied population of the surrounding country, from far and near. At Alesbury the shops were closed, the hammer of the blacksmith laid upon its anvil; not a waggon of any description was to be seen in the street, and even the bar of the tavern was locked, and the key gone with its proprietor towards the cliff, as a token of an important era which was without a parallel in the annals of the place. And save here and there a solitary head looking through a broken pane in some closed-up house, with an air of sad disappoint was not found on him, he was sentenced to be hung, had been removed to the old stone jail at Redcliff for sec rity, the county jail being deemed unsafe. This was t day the execution was to take place; the scaffold already erected; the crowd pressed round the buildin and frequent cries of "Bring out the murderer," we heard. The sun at last told the hour of eleven, and there cou be no more delay; the convict's cell was entered by the d cers in attendance, who aroused him with the informati that all was ready for him without, and bade him hast to his execution; they laid hands upon him and pinion him tight, while he looked up towards heaven in wild tonishment, as one new born, and only said, "The drea the dream." "And what of the dream, Mr. Jason said the Sheriff" you would do me a great kindness you would dream yourself and me out of this curs scrape." "I dreamed," replied the convict, that whi you read the death warrant to me on the scaffold, a ma came through the crowd, and stood before us, in a gr dress, with a white hat and large whiskers, and that a bi fluttered over him, and sang distinctly- This is Lewi the murderer of the traveller."" The officers and jailer held a short consultation, whic ended in a determination to look sharply after the man Paris, and took a fresh and full review of all that was able, tion the long list of characters in which he excelled; the gray with the white hat; accompanied with many hints | Three days had elapsed; Creel had vanished imme- Chenier was angry-but he had watched Talma's per- Biographical Notices. TALMA. Talma is entitled to the highest praise of the stage. He has been for thirty years at the head of acting in France. Among the cloud of aspirants, no man has approached him; he has had no equal, even no rival, almost no reDote competitor. The forms of the French stage, doubtess, prohibit the rapid emulation of the English; and the gost vivid spirit must not trespass on the routine, which ives the superior opportunities to the old performers. But eminent talents will show themselves. Talma, Imost at his entrance into theatrical life, made his mength felt, obtained his rank, and has from that hour ept it without fear of change. His reputation now grew rapidly; he was, in spite of ordinances, in the first rank of his profession. The wits said, that he had "cleared Saintfal without touching him in the leap ;" and his performance of Othello placed him at that height, from which he has never descended a step, and which has been, for almost thirty years, left to his sole possession. (From the Courier Français.) It was said by the old flatterers of Napoleon, who, however, were his greatest detractors after his fall, that Talma did not teach him how to bear the insignia of his power with dignity. He, however, lived in habits of intimacy with that great man, who never suffered talent, in whatever state of life he found it, to go without its reward. We leave to others the part of describing the sublimity of his character as an actor; we shall merely say that his private life merited the attention and respect of those numerous friends whom his death has plunged into the deepest sorrow. The frankness of his disposition, the excitement with which, even in an advanced age, he spoke of the study to which he had devoted his life, and on some occasions the almost infantine simplicity of his manners, threw an inexpressible charm around his acquaintanceship. It is melancholy to think, that had he followed the advice given him by a physician at Havre, the progress of that malady, to which he fell a victim, might have been arrested. He preserved his strength of mind till the last. Talma published some excellent observations on the stage last year. It was by him that the celebrated Spanish tragedian (Maiquez) was taught, who has gained himself such credit in his own country, as the fruit of his studies and observations at Paris. This actor, however, was driven from the theatre amid the political storms which burst on his country, and has not since been replaced. He died young, and in poverty; in which latter circumstance, we are sorry to say his destiny was similar to that of his illustrious master. We understand that Talma's bodily pain was not great immediately before his death. His nephew has kept an accurate journal of every thing said by him, from day to day, and from hour to hour, during his tedious illness. His last words were a tender adieu to some friends around him. Then followed some expressions in broken accents, among which the name of Voltaire was distinctly heard. FUNERAL OF TALMA. According to his last desire, the mortal remains of Talma were this day carried direct from his house, to the cemetery of Père la Chaise. At ten o'clock precisely, the funeral procession set out. It consisted of a magnificent hearse, drawn by four horses, fifteen mourning coaches, Talmas carriage, with those of Mademoiselle Mars and Mademoiselle Duchesnois, and two or three other empty ones, having their curtains lowered. In an open carriage was Madame Roustan (Mademoiselle Volnais) in mourning, and in a second, which immediately followed, were M. Ancelot and M. Soumet, and in a third were M. Casimia Perrier and his two sons. In the first mourning coach we noticed M. Arnault, sen. and M. de Jouy, habited in the costume of the Institute. All the others were empty, the fineness of the weather having allowed Talma's friends, who were to have gone in them, to follow the procession on foot, which they preferred. The number of persons composing it may be estimated at three or four thousand, almost all young persons, at the head of whom walked several distinguished by decorations. M. Mechin, in his costume as a deputy, and the performers of the Theatre Royal, all bare-headed, marching in the greatest order and silence. Numbers, by the expression of their faces, showed the profound grief with which they were penetrated. Francis Joseph Talma was born in Paris, not in 1766, as some biographers have erroneously stated, but in 1760. He was taken to England when very young, but soon returned to France, where he completed his studies. This circumstance has given rise to a claim, on the part of the English newspapers, which is honourable to the memory of the illustrious countryman whom we now deplore. These journals claim for Great Britain the honour of giving birth to a talented man, who, in the science of giving expression to the passions, and carrying theatrical illusion to the highest degree, far surpassed Lekain and Garrick. When Talma was about ten years old, and was entering I college, he first felt and proved his vocation to be the It is not national partiality to say, that Talma's genius, drama. The instructions of the most learned and judihe was born in France, was trained in England; that cious masters were not lost on him. His first début in a ithout his knowledge of the English stage, he would not French scene was in 1787. The commencement of his fre been the regenerator of the French; and that Sid- profession is thus spoken of:-" He has succeeded in tras and Kemble taught him the use of his talents, as gedy and comedy. Besides his other natural endowments, akspeare, even mutilated by Ducis, gave him his fa- he has an agreeable figure, a voice at once sonorous and write and most triumphant distinction. audible, with a pure and distinct enunciation. He feels Talma was born in Paris, about the year 1760. He the harmony of versification, and can communicate such sremarked as an intelligent, and a peculiarly sensitive feelings to others. His deportment is simple, his action ad. It was customary in the French schools, as here, natural. He is always in good taste, and has no mannerperform a little theatrical piece on the breaking up for ism, being an imitator of no actor, but using his own disholidays. Talma, then a child of eight years old, played cretion and abilities." Talma was peculiarly distinguished one of these plays, on the story of Tamerlane. His in the part of Seide. He was passionately fond of the was that of a confidant, who closed the play by an- theatre, and had a great ambition to extend the limits of incing to Tamerlane the death of his son, the bosom a profession to which he was about to become so great an and of the reciter. The child's story was told in a burst ornament. Being on the most intimate terms with literary ital sorrow, which surprised the audience. However, men, the most celebrated painters and sculptors of the day, curtain fell, and the little actors had dispersed to get he resolved, in the very commencement of his career, to of their robes, when Talma was missed, and was not effect a revolution in the costume of the stage, which had nd till after some search, in a corner, still wrapped in been scarcely commenced by Lekain and Madame Clairon, robe of tragedy, and weeping bitterly at the misfortune according to the advice of Marmontel. In spite, therefore, the imperial dynasty. He could scarcely receive com- of Gothic usages, which are sometimes as powerful in the and was for a week ill in consequence of his loyal theatre as in the great world, and to the great scandal of the old people accustomed to French tragedy, Talma, who His father, who lived in London, a goldsmith, I believe, had gained some confidence in the tragedy of Brutus, had seat for him, and the future Roscius of France was, the courage to appear in a veritable Roman toga. From that a few years spent at a boarding-school, in the classic moment may be dated the great intimacy that has existed bourhood of Lambeth, articled to a surgeon. His between the most distinguished actor of the present day trical propensities, however, had made themselves so and the greatest painter of the French school. They both known among the foreigners in London, that Sir advanced the science in which they were respectively so Gallini, the Albert of his day, then superintending eminent, by the most simple, natural, and correct reprearateur French company, at the Hanover-square sentations. He was, for a long time, owing to absurd re-take this account, proceeds to give two or three columns ms, applied to Talma, and he played in a whole suc-gulations, condemned to play parts unworthy of him; and mon of comedies. But the English stage was then in its glory; Siddons Kemble were in their prime. The performance of the two pre-eminent leaders decided Talma's vocation. nquestionably they formed his taste. He returned to it was to Chenier he was indebted for being brought into The procession arrived at Père la Chaise, at about halfpast eleven o'clock. The place of sepulture was on one of the heights to the right, not far from the monument of Marshal Massena, and bordering upon that of the Despaux family. Midway up the steep leading to it, the hearse stopped; twelve young men then carried the coffin to the borders of the grave destined to receive it. From an early hour in the morning, a considerable crowd, amounting, perhaps, to 20,000 persons, had filled the cemetery, and when the coffin was brought into it, they assembled round the tomb. It was not without difficulty that the persons carrying the coffin, with the friends, and even the orators themselves, were able to get within" the circle. With the exception of this slight disorder, which only arose out of a pardonable anxiety, every thing passed with the greatest propriety, and religious respect. The Journal des Debats of Sunday, from whence we of extracts from the funeral orations, delivered over the grave, by Lafona and De Jouy. It mentions also, that an oration was delivered by M. Arnault, sen. and an extemporaneous discourse by M. Toulotte, and that a copy of verses, recited by a gentleman, whose name was not known, terminated the mournful solemnity. CHARLES THE TENTH. FROM WHEATSTONE'S ANNUAL SELECTION OF POPULAR DANCES. water, beautifully clear, constantly filtered through th arch, and fell into calabashes placed underneath to rec it. Unfortunately for us, these were all nearly empty probably some traveller had been there but a little tim previous. Leaving the wood, we entered a waste of dry sand, about four miles across. The travelling over it wa extremely fatiguing, as we sunk to our ancles at ever step. The sand was of a dark olive colour, fine a sparkling, adhered readily to the magnet, and be raised up in every direction, presented a surface re bling (colour excepted) that of drifted snow. It was doubtedly volcanic, but whether thrown out of any of adjacent craters, in its present form, or made up of s particles of decomposed lava, and drifted by the const trade winds from the vast tract of lava to the eastward could not determine. Having refreshed ourselves, we sumed our journey, taking a northerly direction to the columns of smoke, which we could now distinctly ceive. Our way lay over a wide waste of ancient la a black colour, compact and heavy, with a shining vit surface, frequently thrown up by the expansive for vapour, or heated air, into conical mounds, from s twelve feet high, which were rent, in a number stances, from the apex to the base. The hollows be the mounds and long ridges were filled with volcanic or fine particles of decomposed lava. It presented us a sort of island sea, bounded by mountains in th tance. Once it had certainly been in a fluid state, b peared to have become suddenly petrified, or turne a glassy stone, while its agitated billows were rolli and fro. Not only were the large swells and hollow tinctly marked, but in many places the surface of billows was covered by a smaller ripple, like that ob on the surface of the sea, at the first springing u breeze, or the passing currents of air, which produc the sailors call a cat's paw." The sun had risen his strength, and his bright rays reflected from the ling sand; an undulated surface of the vitreous lay zled our eyes, and caused considerable pain, partic as the trade wind blew fresh in our faces, and conti drove particles of sand into our eyes. This part journey was unusually laborious, not only from th of the sun, and the reflection from the lava, but als the unevenness of the surface, which obliged us con to tread on an inclined plain, in some places as s and almost as slippery as glass, where the greatest c was necessary to avoid a fall: frequently we chose along on the ridge of a billow of lava, though consid circuitous, rather than pass up and down its polished Taking the trough or billow between the waves, we it safer, but much more fatiguing, as we sank ever deep into the sand. Between eleven and twelve mell. were informed that they were numerous in the interior, but were never seen on the coast. At sun-setting, although the thermometer was at 69, expecting a cold night upon the mountain, they collected fuel, and removed from a dangerous place, which the natives had superstitiously chosen for them, upon the very edge of the crater. The ground sounded hollow in every direction, frequently cracked, and in two instances actually gave way as they were passing over it, and exposed the persons, whose limbs sunk through the lava, to great danger and to some injury. Mr. Thurston, who had been benighted at some distance, found his way back, directed by the fire, but not without experiencing great difficulty from the "unevenness of the path, and the numerous wide fissures in the lava." They now partook with cheerfulness of their evening repast, and afterwards, amidst the whistling of the winds around, and the roaring of the furnace beneath, offered up their evening sacrifice of praise. nine and ten, the dark clouds and heavy fog, that, since the setting of the sun, had hung over the volcano, gradually cleared away, and the fires of Kirauea, darting their fierce light across the midnight gloom, unfolded a sight terrible and sublime beyond all they had yet seen.' "Between "The agitated mass of liquid lava, like a flood of melted metal, raged with tumultuous whirl. The lively flame that danced over its undulating surface, tinged with sulphureous blue, or glowing with mineral red, cast a broad glare of dazzling light on the indented sides of the insulated craters, whose bellowing mouths, amidst rising flames and eddying streams of fire, shot up at frequent intervals, with loudest detonations, spherical masses of fusing lava, of bright ignited stones. The dark bold outline of the perpendicular and jutting rocks around formed a striking contrast with the luminous lake below, whose vivid rays, thrown on the rugged promontories, and reflected by the overhanging clouds, combined to complete the awful grandeur of the imposing scene." we passed a number of conical hills on our right, which vast flood of liquid fire, in a state of terrific ebullition, the natives informed us were craters. A quantity of sand rolling to and fro its fiery surge," and flaming billows. was collected around their base, but whether thrown out Fifty-one craters, of varied form and size, rose, like so by them, or drifted thither by the wind, they could not many conical islands, from the surface of the burning mform us. In their vicinity we also passed several deep lake. Twenty-two constantly emitted columns of gray chasms, from which, in a number of places, small columns smoke, or pyramids of brilliant flame, and many of them of vapour arose at different intervals. They appeared to at the same time vomited from their ignited mouths streams proceed from Kirauea, the great volcano, and extended of fluid lava, which rolled in blazing torrents down their towards the sea in a S. E. direction. Probably they are black indented sides into the boiling mass below. The connected with Pouahohoa, and may mark the course of sides of the gulph before us were perpendicular for about avast subterraneous channel, leading from the volcano to 400 feet, when there was a wide horizontal ledge of black the shore. The surface of the lava on both sides was con- solid lava, of irregular breadth, but extending quite around. derably heated, and the vapour had a strong sulphureous Beneath this black ledge the sides sloped towards the centre, which was, as nearly as we could judge, 300 or 400 We continued our way, beneath the scorching rays of feet lower. It was evident that the crater had recently a vertical sun, till about noon, when we reached a solitary been filled with liquid lava up to this black ledge, and tree, growing in a bed of sand, and spreading its roots had, by some subterranean canal, emptied itself into the among the crevices of the lava. We threw ourselves sea, or inundated the low land on the shore. The gray, down, stretched out our weary limbs beneath its grateful and, in some places, apparently calcined sides of the great hade, and drank the little water left in our canteens. crater before us; the fissures which intersected the surface In every direction around us we observed a number of of the plain on which we were standing; the long banks pieces of spumous lava, of an olive colour, extremely cel- of sulphur on the opposite side; the numerous columns of ular, and as light as a sponge. They appeared to have vapour and smoke that rose at the north and south ends of been drifted by the wind into the hollows which they oc- the plain, together with the ridge of steep rocks, by which cupied. The high bluff rocks on the north-west side of it was surrounded, rising probably, in some places, 400 the volcano were very distinctly seen; the smoke and va- feet in perpendicular height, presented an immense volour driven past us, and the scent of the fumes of sul-canic panorama, the effect of which was greatly augmented par, which, as we approached from the leeward, we had by the constant roaring of the vast furnaces below. perceived ever since the wind sprung up, were now very We then walked along the western side of the crater strong, and indicated our approach to Kirauea. Impa- in search of water, which we had been informed was to be feat to view it, we rose, after resting about half an hour, found in the neighbourhood, and succeeded in finding and pursued our journey. By the way-side we saw a three pools, where the water was perfectly fresh and sweet. namber of low bushes, bearing beautiful red and yellow These pools appeared great natural curiosities. The surface beries in clusters, each berry being about the size and of the ground in the vicinity was perceptibly warm, and shape of a large currant. The native name of the plant rent by several deep, irregular chasms, from which steam is Onelo. and thick vapours continually arose. In some places these We travelled on, clearing every ohelo bush that grew chasms were two feet wide. From thence a dense volume near the path, till about 2 p. m. when the great CRATER of steam ascended, which was immediately condensed into OF KIRAUEA all at once burst upon our view. We ex- small drops of water, by the cool mountain air, and driven They sat "gazing at the magnificent phenemenon for pected to have seen a mountain with a broad base, and like drizzling rain into hollows in the lava, at the leeward several hours, when they laid themselves down on mats, rough indented sides, composed of loose slags or streams side of the chasms. The pools, which were six or eight to observe more leisurely its varying aspect; for, although of lava, and whose summit would have presented a rugged feet from the chasms, were surrounded and covered by they had travelled upwards of twenty miles since the wall of scoria, forming the rim of a mighty cauldron. flags, rushes, and tall grass. Nourished by the moisture morning, and were both weary and cold, they felt little But instead of this, we found ourselves on the edge of a of the vapours, these plants flourished luxuriantly, and, inclination to slept. The natives, who probably viewed steep precipice, with a vast plain before us, fifteen or six- in their turn, sheltered the pools from the heat of the sun, from theirs, seemed however equally interested. They sat the scene with thoughts and feelings somewhat different teen miles in circumference, and sunk from 200 to 400 and prevented evaporation. We expected to find the water feet below its original level. The surface of the plain be- warm; but in this respect we were also agreeably disap-most of the night talking of the achievements of Pele, low was uneven, and strewed over with large stones, and pointed. When we had quenched our thirst with water and regarding with a superstitious fear (at which we were olcanic rocks; and in the centre of it was the great cra- thus distilled by nature, we directed the natives to build a not surprised) the brilliant exhibition. They considered er, a mile or a mile and a half distant from the precipice hut for us to pass the night in, in such a situation as to it the primeval abode of their volcanic deities. The which we were standing. Our guides led us round command a view of the burning lava; and while they conical craters, they said, were their houses, where they wards the north end of the ridge, in order to find a place were thus employed, we prepared to examine the many frequently amused themselves by playing at konane. The by which we might descend to the plain below. As we interesting objects around us. Mr. Thurston visited waving of the furnaces and the crackling of the flames passed along, we observed the natives, who had hitherto the eastern side of the great crater; and Messrs. Ellis were the kaui of their hura (music of their dance) and the refused to touch any of the ohelos, now gather several and Goodrich went to examine some extensive beds of red flaming surge was the surf wherein they played, bunches, and after offering a part to Pele, they ate them sulphur at the north-east end. After walking about sportively swimming on the rolling wave." heely. They did not use much ceremony in their acknow- three quarters of a mile over a tract of decomposed dgment, but when they had plucked a bunch containing lava, covered with ohelo bushes, they came to a bank several clusters of berries, they made a stand, with their about 150 yards long, and, in some places, upwards aces turned towards the place where the greatest quanti- of 30 feet high, formed of volcanic sulphur, with a small of smoke and vapour issued, and breaking the branch proportion of red clay. The ground was hot, its surface hey held in their hand in two pieces, they threw one part rent by fissures; and they were somtimes completely enwn the precipice, saying at the same time, "E Pele eia veloped in the thick vapours that continually ascended. A helo au; e taumaha aku wau ia oe, e ai hoi au tetaki ;" number of apertures were visible along the whole extent Pele, here are your ohelos; I offered some to you, some of the bank of sulphur; smoke and vapours arose from also eat.") these fissures; and the heat around then was more intense than in any other part. They climbed about half way up the bank, and endeavoured to detach some parts of the crust, but soon found it too hot to be handled. However, by means of their walking sticks, they broke off some curious specimens. Those procured near the surface were crystallized in beautiful circular prisms of a light yellow colour, while those found three or four inches deep in the bank, were of an orange yellow, generally in single or double tetrahedral pyramids, and full an inch in length. We walked on to the north end of the ridge, where the recipice being less steep, a descent to the plain below eemed practicable. It required, however, the greatest antion, as the stones and fragments of rock frequently are way under our feet, and rolled down from above; d with all our care we did not reach the bottom without everal falls and slight bruises. The steep which we had scended was formed of volcanic materials, apparently a ght red, and gray kind of lava, vesicular, and lying in horizontal strata, varying in thickness from one to forty et. In a small number of places the different strata of ra were also rent in perpendicular or oblique directions the top to the bottom, either by earthquakes, or her violent convulsions of the earth, connected with the tion of the adjacent volcano. After walking some disace over the sunken plain, which, in several places, wounded hollow under our feet, we came suddenly to the sige of the great crater, where a spectacle, sublime and palling, presented itself before us. Astonishment and e for some moments deprived us of speech, and, like Statues, we stood fixed to the spot, with our eyes rivetted the abyss below. Immediately before us yawned an immense gulph, in the form of a crescent, upwards of to miles in length, about a mile across, and apparently eight hundred feet deep. The bottom was filled with lava, and the south-west and northern parts of it were one A singular hissing and cracking noise was heard among the crystals, whenever the outside crust of sulphur was broken, and the atmospheric air admitted. The same noise was produced among the fragments broken off, until they were quite cold. The adjacent stones and pieces of clay were frequently incrusted, either with sulphate of ammonia, or volcanic sal ammoniac. A considerable quantity was also found in the crevices of some of the neighbouring rocks, which was much more pungent than that exposed to the air. Along the bottom of the sulphur bank, they found a number of pieces of tufa, extremely cellular and light. A thick fog now came over, which being followed by a shower of rain, obliged them to leave this interesting laboratory of nature, and return to their companions. They saw flocks of wild geese, which came down from the mountains and settled among the ohelo bushes: they The natives said, that, according to tradition, the volcano had been burning from chaos, or night, till now; for they refer the origin of the world, and even of their gods, to chaos, or night; and the creation was, in their view, a transition from darkness to light. They stated, that, in earlier ages, the volcano "used so boil up, to overflow its banks, and to inundate the adjacent country; but that, for many kings' reigns past, it had kept below the level of the surrounding plain, continually extending its sur face, and increasing its depth, and occasionally throwing up, with violent explosion, huge rocks, or red-hot stones. These eruptions, they said, were always accompanied by dreadful earthquakes, loud claps of thunder, and vivid and quick succeeding lightning. No great explosion, they added, had taken place since the days of Keona, but many places near the sea-shore had been overflowed; on which occasions, they supposed that Pele went, by a road under ground, from her house in the crater to the shore. [To be continued.] |