Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

ВоHEA, are certainly to be preferred, and if a small quantity of green tea is put in for the sake of flavor, by far the greater proportion ought to consist of bohea, for the sake of health: for it is well known, that the green or high flavoured teas, abound most with those active principles whence the noxious effects of the article arise. 2. It is also of great importance to make the infusion properly; the water should be soft, and not contaminated with saline or mineral particles; it should be in a boiling state when the infusion is made; and, on the whole, it is an excellent general rule, the weaker it is the better. 3. There is nothing more essential, than to have the tea mixed with such ingredients as are the most likely to correct its noxious qualities; and of these, sugar and milk are by far the best which have hitherto been discovered; the latter, in particular, ought to be mixed in a reater proportion with tea, than is generally the case. 4. But the most important rule is, that tea should be considered, merely as calculated for the purpose of diluting our solid food, and assisting in its digestion. If it were never taken but either with solid nourishment, or soon after it, there is every reason to suppose, that its pernicious effects would, in a great measure, be prevented.-But when taken, as is too often the case, without solid nourishment, it cannot fail greatly to injure the tone of the stomach, to undermine the health, and to justify the innumerable charges which have been brought against it.

Before this subject is dismissed, it may be proper to add the following observations.

It is certainly an important consideration, that the first meal we take to recruit the body, after it has long wanted sustenance, when it has suffered by the loss it must have sustained, in consequence of the insensible perspiration of the preceding night; and when it is necessary to prepare for the labours of the succeeding day, should, in general, depend almost entirely upon tea, with a small portion of bread, perhaps soaked in rancid butter, more especially if the hour of dinner is distant, and nothing is taken in the interval. I should imagine, therefore, that the Scotch plan, of eating meat, eggs, and other nourishing substances at breakfast, or what the French call Le dejeuner a la fourchette, or fork-breakfast, is a rational

system, and ought to be generally adopted, where tea is taken at breakfast.

Another remark is, that the price of tea ought to be so increased, as to prevent the consumption thereof as much as possible, by persons who cannot afford to take nourishing food with it; nothing can be more injurious, more especially for the laborious part of the community, than to make tea, instead of an auxiliary diet, a principal part of their daily subsistence. The only nourishment derived from the infusion of tea, is owing to the sugar and milk which are added to it, and by which its pernicious effects are in some degree obviated; but the money thus squandered upon tea, would purchase a sufficiency of wholesome and substantial food. The rich and intemperate, as an intelligent author has well observed, may indulge, if they chuse, in the narcotic draught. To their heated and oppressed stomachs, may not do harm; it may even afford momentary relief. But the poor have no feverish thirst, no feverish heat, to allay after their noonday repast. To them, it is totally unnecessary as a help to digestion, and as an article of sustenance, it is worthless and improper. Every means, therefore, that can be thought of by the Legislature, for checking the inordinate consumption of this article, by such additional taxes as will discourage its being so generally made use of by the middling and lower orders, without at the same time promoting smuggling, cannot fail to be serviceable.

Lastly, in a political view, it is certainly a serious object, that two out of the four meals, which constitute our daily subsistence should be chiefly composed of an article, brought from such an immense distance, purchased from a nation extremely unwilling to take any thing in return, and for the value of which, it would be impossible for us to pay, if our commerce were not in the highest degree prosperous. I should consider it, therefore, in a peculiar manner, wise and politic, to offer some considerable premium to the person, who would discover some useful and popular substitute for tea; one, in point of health, not only equal, but preferable to that article; of a nature also likely to be generally adopted; and, if it could be procured from some of the productions of our own country, it would be still more desirable.

LAPLANDERS AND REIN D'EER.

Most of our readers will have heard of the Laplanders and Rein Deer, which the enterprising Mr. Bullock some time ago brought to this country: and which continue to be an interesting exhibition in London. We purpose, on the present occasion, giving a brief account of these interesting animals.

On a tour to the north of Europe, Mr. B. paid a visit to Norway, in the interior of which he found herds of reindeer. They had been brought from their native Lapland, experimentally, by government, with a view of domesticating them, and rendering their extraordinary powers available to purposes of general service and economy. How far this has succeeded we know not, but it naturally occurred to our distinguished compatriot, that what was a desideratum in Norway, could not be less than curious, ornamental, and most probably useful, in England. With his well known zeal, he soon procured a herd of twenty, and brought them down from the inland hills and lakes to the coast for embarkation. They were followed all the way by a troop of wolves, against which it was difficult to protect the deer. At length, however, they reached the sea-shore in safety, and for security they were transported to an island surrounded by salt water. Unfortunately the precaution led to the worst of results-in three days every one of these fine creatures had perished. This mortality was occasioned by their eating a poisonous plant, with which the island abounded, and which the people about it told, when too late, was so fatal as to have destroyed all cattle when put upon it, so that none had been suffered to feed there for many years.

Thrown again on his resources, and unwilling to abandon a favourite design, our indefatigable countryman determined on another trial. He once more went Into the interior and bought another herd, twelve in number. With these he was more fortunate, and not only succeeded in embarking them in safety, but in bringing them alive and well to the Thames. Before relating the mishaps which befel them here, (where none ought to have happened them,) we may observe on the extraordinary sagacity they displayed in travelling.

[ocr errors]

They were completely under the command of a leader or captain, who not only headed their march, but seemed, upon every difficulty, to issue his orgiers, which were promptly and implicitly obeyed. This was most remarkable when they came to the boat for embarkation. A new situation required a stronger exercise of instinct, approaching to reason, and of courage, than had previously been called forth. The conductor of the herd, a Norwegian, got into the boat, and invited the captain of the deer to follow him. Generally obedient to his wishes, the noble animal approached, and put his foot from the pier into the vessel. It was the first unsteady ground he had ever trod, and he recoiled in alarm. Fresh invitations, and fresh investigations of the boat ensued; the whole herd looking on and watching these, to them, as well as to the human spectators, interesting proceedings. At last the captain felt assured; he entered the boat, and he trod upon and examined every plank. When fully satisfied he uttered a kind of snort, and in three minutes the hitherto-passive herd had bounced into and filled the boat. Nor was this all the wonderful display of animal intelligence: the vessel was overloaded, and, as he had intimated other things, he also intimated this to his followers; were we not assured of the fact we could hardly credit it; no sooner was this done, than the individual deer he appeared to address. leaped into another boat.

On arriving in the Thames, as already mentioned, it unluckily happened that the Custom-house officer, at Gravesend, was a man of strict form, and not a man of any science. He refused to allow the deer to be landed; such animals were not in his bond, and he could not act without instructions. Before application could be made to the proper authorities in London, and leave obtained for their being put on shore, the majority of the poor herd fell victims to their confinement on ship-board. They began to die very fast, and it was in vain to offer the official actors a deposit quadruple to any imaginable duty,--they would not depart from their regular line, and eight of the twelve deer were thus destroyed. Even when the survivors were landed, another obstacle was raised to the landing of their native noss, (brought to feed them till they

were accustomed to grass and hay ;) this might be dye, and natural history had no disciples at Gravesend.

The remnant (which is since dead) saved, consists of a male and female, a fawn, and a male which has been cut.The latter is the captain, of which we have spoken, and the largest of the animals; being, we suppose, about ten hands high, and proportionally stout. The others are a hand or two lower. Their fur is astonishingly thick, very fine, and delicately soft and warm. The horns branch in a singular and beautiful manner, and are entirely covered with a short fur. Those of the female form almost a perfect coronet, above a foot in height, and her head is of the most elegant shape. The captain's antlers are three feet in length; on one side branching from a single root, on the other having two branches bending forwards over the nose, issuing from the head with the main branch. The fawn has only two short protuberances.

Their hoofs are very broad, and flexible between the divisions. This enables them to clamber up precipices and bang on rocks inaccessible to all other animals. Their speed is prodigious. They seem to be reconciled to hay, as food; like brandy, which is administered as a medicine; and there is nothing, at present, to cause a doubt of the practicability of naturalizing them in England.

Along with the deer, Mr. B. has brought a native Laplander, his wife, and child. The dwarfish race of Finns, so remarkable in the philosophy of mankind, are about 4 feet 8 inches in height; the man being of the common size, the woman rather tall. The child is a curiosity in its way, and about five years old. There is a pleasing story attached to the loves and marriages of these persons, which we shall insert next week.

HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF A BUSY WIFE.

I am the husband of a buyer of bargains. My wife has somewhere heard, that a good housewife never has any thing to purchase when it is wanted. This maxim is often in her mouth, and always in her head. She is not one of these philosophical talkers that speculate without practice, and learn sen

tences of wisdom only to repeat them she is always making additions to her stores; she never passes by a broker's shop, but she spies something that may be wanted sometime; and it is impossible to make her pass the door of a house where she hears goods selling by auction.

Whatever she thinks cheap, she holds it the duty of an economist to purchase; in consequence of this maxim, we are encumbered on every side with useless lumber. The servants can scarcely creep to their beds through the chests and boxes that surround them. The carpenter is always employed in building closets, fixing cupboards, and fastening shelves; and my house has the appearance of a ship stored for a voyage to the

colonies.

I had often observed that advertisements set her on fire, and, therefore, pretending to emulate her laudable frugality, I forbade the newspaper to be taken any longer: but my precaution is vain; I know not by what fatality, or by what confederacy, every catalogue of genuine furniture comes to her hand, every advertisement of a warehouse newly opened is in her pocket-book; and she knows before any of her neighbours, when the stock of any man, leaving off trade, is to be sold cheap for ready money.

Such intelligence is to my dear one, the Siren's song. No engagement, no duty, no interest, can withhold her from a sale, from which she always returns congratulating herself upon her dexterity at a bargain; the porter lays down his burden in the hall, she displays her new acquisitions, and spends the rest of the day in contriving where they shall be put.

As she cannot bear to have any thing incomplete, one purchase necessitates another; she has twenty feather-beds more than she can use, and lately, another sale has supplied her with a proportionate number of Witney blankets, a large roll of linen for sheets, and five quilts for every bed, which she bought, because the seller told her, if she would clear his hands, he would let her have a bargain.

Thus, by hourly encroachments, my habitation is made narrower and narrower; the dining-room is so crowded with tables, that dinner scarcely can be served; the parlour is decorated

with so many piles of china, that I dare not come within the door; at every turn of the stairs I have a clock, and half the windows of the upper floors are darkened, that shelves may be set before them.

This, however, might be borne, if she would gratify her own inclinations without opposing mine. But I, who am idle, am luxurious, and she condems me to live upon salt provision. She knows the loss of buying in small quantities; we have therefore whole hogs, and quarters of oxen; part of our meat is tainted before it is eaten, and part is thrown away, because it is spoiled; but she persists in her system, and will never buy any thing by single pennyworths.

The common vice of those who are still grasping at more, is to neglect that which they already possess; but from this failing my wife is free. It is the great care of her life that the pieces of beef should be boiled in the order in which they are bought; that the last bag of pease shall not be opened till the first are eaten; that every feather-bed should be lain on in its turn; that the carpets should be taken out of the chests once a month, and brushed, and the rolls of linen opened now and then before the fire. She is daily inquiring after the best traps for mice; and keeps the rooms always scented by fumigations, to destroy the moths. She employs workmen, from time to time, to adjust six clocks that never go, and clean five jacks that rust in the garret; and a woman in the next alley lives by scouring the brass and pewter, which, when scoured, are only laid up again to tarnish.

She is always imagining some distant time in which she shall use whatever' she accumulates; she has four lookingglasses, which she cannot hang up in her house, but which will be handsome in more lofty rooms; and pays rent for the place of a vast copper, in some warehouse, because, when we live in the country, we shall brew our own beer.

Of this life I have long been weary, but know not how to change it; all the married men, whom I consult, advise me to have patience; but some old bachelors are of opinion, that, since she loves sales so well, she should have a sale of her own; and I have, I think, resolved to open her hoards, and advertise an auction.

THE UNICORN.

Mr. Campbell has brought with him from Mashow, in Africa, the head of an animal which is believed by many, and it is endeavoured to prove, to be the Unicorn of Holy Writ. It is in the Museum of the Missionary Society, and has been inspected by several Naturalists, who are divided in opinion on the subject. We have only seen a drawing of it, and from that, as well as from the information of intelligent persons, are inclined to consider it the cranium of the double-horned rhinoceros (so called from a small horn immediately behind the long projecting one;) but as the point is of the highest interest, we shall have a print of the head engraved, and insert it with the particulars (if ready) in our next week's Babbler.

Poetry.

RETROSPECTION.

Sweetly breathes the morning breeze,
The dew from shrub and flow'ret shaking,
While pillowed on the western seas

The sun himself is scarcely waking. "Tis as yet the earliest dawn,

Night and morn like lovers parting,-
Now they gleam on grove and lawn,
And now, like quivering arrows darting,
Break the sky-lark's latest slumbers,
Who his feather'd pinions trying,
Carols forth his sweetest numbers,
As from earth to æther flying.

'Tis the morn-but ah! how cheerless,
To my heart with sorrow sighing,
Though my aching eyes are tearless,
Grief, alas! is past denying.
Would my anguished heart would sever,
Still its too, too painful beating,
Cease to thrill and throb for ever,

Since I've found my bliss so fleeting:
Man may scorn and scoff at sorrow,
Which he is exempt from feeling;
Would I could such peace but borrow,
For a woe there's no revealing.

Grief that asks and moves compassion,
I have felt and felt accutely;

All the maddening stings of passion

I have known but too minutely. All that love and hope could paint, Have been for many a year receding.Now seem as distant shadows faint,

And scarcely worth a moment heeding. Life still is life--without a charm,

Of joy in sorrow's garland wreathing; No hope, no joy, no love, no balın To ease iny bosom with its breathing.

STANZAS

BY JOHN CLARE.

Το

Lovely maid, though thou art all
That Love could wish to find thee,
Of frailties that to charms may fall
Let modest hints remind thee.
Beauty's a shadow, Love's a name,
That often leave together;

As flowers that with the summer came
Will fly the winter weather.

Sweet maid, with youth's fond blushes warm,
And gently swelling bosom,

Stealing to woman's witching form,
Sweet as the bud to blossom ;-
Be not too vain of Beauty's powers,
Nor scornful feelings cherish;
Thou'rt but a flower, with other flowers,
That only bloom to perish.
Thou lovely creature, though to thee
All earthly charms are given,
And Beauty vainly bids thee be
What Angels are in heaven;
Pity,-thou more than mortals are,-
Aught mortal should belong thee!
But Nature made thee, Angel fair,
And Age awaits to wrong thee.

A HERMITAGE.
By Montgomery.

Whose is this humble dwelling-place,
The flat turf-roof with flowers o'ergrown?
Ah! here the tenant's name I trace,
Moss-cover'd on the threshold-stone.

Well! he hath peace within and rest,
Though nought of all the world beside;
Yet stranger, deem not him unblest,
Who knows not avarice, lust, or pride.

Nothing he wants:-he nothing cares
For all that mourns or revels round;
He craves no feast, no finery wears,
Nor once o'ersteps his narrow bound.
No need of light, though all be gloom,
To cheer his eye,-that eye is blind;
No need of fire in this small room,
He recks not tempest, rain, or wind.
No gay companions here;-no wife
To gladden home with true-love smiles;
No children,-from the woes of life
To win their sire with artless smiles.
Nor joy, nor sorrow, enter here;
Nor throbbing heart, nor weary limb;
No sun, no moon, no stars appear,
And man and brute are nought to him

This dwelling is a Hermit's cave, With space alone for one poor bed; This dwelling is a mortal's grave, Its sole inhabitant is dead!

STANZAS

To Lady Jane Grey, at Bradgate.

This was thy home then, gentle Jane !
This thy green solitude;-and here
At evening, from thy gleaming pane,
Thine eye oft watch'd the dappled deer,
While the soft sun was in its wane,

Browsing beneath the brooklet clear:
The brook runs still, the sun sets now,
The deer yet browseth; where art thou?
Oh, gentle Dudley! Where art thou?
Have years so roll'd that not a track-
Of even thy chamber lingereth now
To call thine image sweetlier back?
The careless chair at window bow,

The ruin'd lute, the crumbling wrack
Of broidery, the forgotten glove,
The learned book, thy virgin love;-
None, none of these abide to tell

Thy gentle tale,-yet it is told!
The silence of the breathless dell
Is musical of thee; the cold
And mournful water passeth well
Thy house's ruin, as of old,
And pineth with a watery sound
Its little bymn to thy lone ground!
The air is sainted;-never shone

More tender light on greener grass,
Than that which kisseth turf and stone
Of thy decayed house; alas!
The aged drowsing trees make moan

For thee sweet girl! And many a lass
Pauseth at morn upon her way,
And grieveth for the Lady Grey.
Here was thy life! Here was thy tower,
By this light water! Thy hard death
Was far away in town and tower,

And cruel hands destroy'd thy breath:
Might they not let so young a flower

Bud all its beauty in life's wreath!
What must have been that guilty sense,
That had such fear of innocence!

But though thy young and bridal heart
Was tortured, thy brave spirit, still
Untroubled, left its mortal part,

And halloweth now each dell and hill:
It liveth by a gracious art

For ever here; and that wild thrill
The stranger feels of love and pain,
Is the present voice of the Lady Jane..

1 THINK OF THEE.

I think of thee-I think of thee,
And all that thou hast borne for me ;-
In hours of gloom, or heartless glee,
I think of thee-I think of thee!

When fiercest rage the storms of Fate,
And all around is desolate;

I pour on life's tempestuous sea,
The oil of peace-with thoughts of thes!

« AnteriorContinuar »