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grave, and heaped the mould over it in haste. The relations mourned for three days, but the name of the deceased was never again pronounced; and because they believed that Death, when he was among them, had learnt the names of all whom he left alive, that he might look for them another time, every one in the tribe took a new name, hoping that when Death returned and did not recognize these appellations, he would proceed farther upon a vain search. These people, who were once among the most

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formidable nations of the interior, and a sore scourge to the Spaniards, have perished by their own accursed customs. Like the Mbayas, they fell into the practice of rearing only one child in a family; and in the year 1794, fourteen males and eight females were all that remained of the race. Two of these were settled with a Spaniard; the others had joined company with other savages, so that the Lenguas have disappeared from the earth."

THIS

HIS is an uncommonly interesting little book, though, perhaps, not so entirely so as it might have been made. The author has dressed up facts in the best way his learning and skill in composition enabled him; but,not equal to De Foe in this difficult task, he has not been equally felicitous in the preser vation of verisimilitude and keeping. Our Soldier is often too sentimental; too much of the modern French philosophe; his companions in arms cry as much and as frequently as green girls reading the Sorrows of Werter at a boarding-school; and embrace each, other like heroines in a melodrama.

We shall not trouble our readers with the hero's biography, further than to state, that he is described as the welleducated son of parents in humble life at Edinburgh, who, after an abortive attempt to appear on the stage, enlists in the 71st regiment. From the depôt in the Isle of Wight, he is sent with the force against Buenos Ayres. The following seems a good general account of the people

"The native women were the most uncomely I ever beheld. They have broad noses, thick lips, and are of very small stature. Their hair, which is long, black, and hard to the feel, they wear frizzled up in front, in the most hideous manner; while it hangs down their backs, below their waist. When they dress, they stick in it feathers and flowers, and walk about in the pride of

ugliness. The men are short of stature, stout made, and have large joints. They are brave but indolent to excess. I have seen them galloping about on horseback, almost naked, with silver spurs on their bare heels, perhaps an old rug upon their shoulders. They fear not pain. I have seen them with hurts ghastly to look at, yet they never seemed to mind them. As for their idleness, I have seen them lie stretched, for a whole day, gazing upon the river, and their wives bring them their victuals; and, if they were not pleased with the quantity, they would beat them furiously. This is the only exertion they ever make readily-venting their fury upon their wives. They prefer flesh to any other food, and they eat it almost raw, and in quantities which a European would think impossible.

"I had little opportunity of seeing the better sort of Spanish settlers, as they had all left the place before we took it; and, during the siege, those I had any opportunity of knowing, were of the poorer sort, who used to visit Maria de Parides and her father, Don Santanos. They are ignorant in the extreme, and very superstitious. Maria told me, with the utmost concern, that the cause of her husband's death was being bewitched by an old Indian, to whom he had refused some partridges, as he returned from hunting, a few days before the battle.

"As I became acquainted with the

language, I observed many singular traits of character. When Maria, or old Santanos yawned, they crossed their mouth with the utmost haste, to prevent the Devil going down their throats. If Santanos sneezed, Maria called, "Jesus!" his answer was, "Muchas gracias," "Many thanks."When they knock at any door, they say, "Ave Maria purissima;" they open at once, as they think no one, with an evil intent, will use this holy phrase. When they meet a woman, they say, "A sus pies senora," or, "Beso los pies de Usted," "I lay myself at your feet," ог "I kiss your feet." As they part, he says, "Me tengo a sus pies de Usted," or "Baxo de sus pies," "I am at your feet," or, Keep me at your feet!" she replies, "Beso a Usted la mano, Cavallero,' "I kiss your band, Sir." When they leave any one, they say, Vaya Usted con Dios," or, "Con la Virgen," May God (or, the Holy Virgin) attend you." When they are angry, it is a common phrase with them, "6 Vaya Usted con cien mil Demonios," "Begone with a hundred thousand devils."

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66

"Maria was concerned that I should be a heretic, and wished much I would change my religion, and become a Catholic, as the only means of my sal vation." He,however,continued protestant, tho' the priest acted most generously towards him in the hour of defeat and misfortune, There are a few anecdotes of the assault on the city, which, if true, are worthy of preserving, if fabulous, deserving of perusal :

"During the time we were charging through the streets, many of our men made sallies into the houses, in search of plunder; and many were encumbered with it, at the time of our surrender. One sergeant of the 38th had made a longish hole in his wooden canteen, like that over the money drawer in the counter of a retail shop; into it he slipped all the money he could lay his hands upon. As he came out of a house he had been ransacking, he was shot through the head. In his fall the canteen burst, and a great many doubloons ran, in all directions, on the street.

Then commenced a scramble for the money, and about eighteen men were shot, grasping at the gold they were never to enjoy. They even snatched it from their dying companions, although they themselves were to be in the same situation the next moment.

"We were all searched, and every article that was Spanish taken from us ; but we were allowed to keep the rest. During the search, one soldier, who had a good many doubloons, put them into his camp-kettle, with flesh and water above them; placed all upon a fire, and kept them safe.

"There were about one hundred of us, who had been taken in the church, marched out of prison to be shor, unless we produced a gold crucifix of great value, that was missing. We stood in a large circle of Spaniards and Indians. Their levelled pieces and savage looks gave us little to hope, unless the crucifix was produced. It was found on the ground, on the spot where we stood; but it was not known who had taken it. The troops retired, and we were allowed to go back to prison, without further molestation."

The

We must now transport our readers at one sweep to old Spain, and, passing over Sir J. Moore's campaign, to the year 1810, when Colonel Cadogan led the brave Glasgow highlanders to glory, under the immortal Wellington. gallant Colonel's address to his men, on leading them into their first charge, though not truly grammatical, is truly British, "My Lads, this is the first affair I have ever been in with you; show me what you can do, now or never." There was hard fighting for several days, and our author draws a sad picture of a soldier's life :

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shoulder, and my blanket over all, ready to start, in a moment, at the least alarm. The nights were chill: indeed, in the morning, I was so stiff, I could not stand or move with ease for some time ; my legs were benumbed to the knees. I was completely wet, three nights out of the five. A great number of the men took the fever and ague, after we retired behind the lines. I was not a whit the worse." They fell back.

"This retreat brought to my mind the Corunna race. We could not advance 100 yards, without seeing dead soldiers of the enemy, stretched upon the road, or at a little distance from it, who had lain down to die, unable to proceed thro' hunger and fatigue. We could not pity them, miserable as they were. Their retreat resembled more that of famished wolves than men. Murder and devastation marked their way; every house was a sepulchre, a cabin of horrors! Our soldiers used to wonder why the Frenchmen were not swept by heaven from the earth, when they witnessed their cruelties. In a small town called Safrea, I saw twelve dead bodies lying in one house upon the floor! Every house contained traces of their wanton barbarity. Often has a shade of doubt crossed iny mind, when reading the accounts of former atrocities; often would I think-they are exaggerated-thank God we live in more civilized times. How dreadfully were my doubts removed. I cease to describe, lest I raise doubts similar to my own."

"At this time, I got a distaste, I could never overcome. A few of us went into a wine-store, where there was a large tun, with a ladder to get to the top, in which was a hole about two feet square. There was not much wine in it, so we buckled our canteen straps together, until a camp-kettle attached to them reached the liquor. We drew it up once-we all drank: down it went again-it got entangled with something at the bottom of the tun-a candle was lowered ;-to our great disappointment, the corpse of a French soldier lay upon the bottom! Sickness 3A ATHENEUM VOL. 6.

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came upon me; and, for a long time afterwards, I shuddered at the sight of red wine. The Portuguese soldiers never would drink red wine, if white could be got. When I asked the reason, their reply was, they knew how it was made."

We have mentioned the sentimentality which occasionally detects the authorship, and injures this narrative. -After the battle of Fuentes de Honore, we are treated with the annexed morceau of sensibility which was effused at Toro de Moro :

46

:

Here I enjoyed the beauties of the country more than at any former period. Often, when off duty, have I wandered into the woods to enjoy the cool refreshing shade of the cork trees, and breathe the richly perfumed air, loaded with the fragrance of innumerable aromatic plants. One evening, as I lay in the wood, thinking upon home, sweeter than all the surrounding sweets, almost overcome by my sensations, I heard, at a small distance, music. I listened some time ere I could be satisfied it was so. It ceased all at once;

then began sweeter than before. I arose, and approached nearer, to avoid the noise of a small burn that ran rippling near where I had been reclining. I soon knew the air; I crept nearer, and could distinguish the words; I became rivetted to the spot: That moment compensated for all I had suffered in Spain. I felt that pleasure which softens the heart, and overflows at the eyes. The words that first struck my

ear, were,

"Why did I leave my Jeanie, my daddy's cot, an' a', To wander from my country, sweet Caledonia ?"

Soon as the voice ceased, I looked through the underwood, and saw four or five soldiers seated on the turf, who sung, in their turn, Scotland's sweetest songs of remembrance. When they retired, I felt as if I was bereft of all enjoyment. I slowly retired to the camp, to reflect, and spend a sleepless night. Every opportunity, I returned to the scene of my happiness; and had the pleasure, more than once, to enjoy this company unseen."

This is distinctly out of the assumed character of a soldier; and the following, at Boho, is little better:

"One afternoon, I had walked into the church-yard; and, after having wandered through it, I lay down in the shade of the wall, near a grave that appeared to have been lately made. While lying thus, I heard a sob: I looked towards the place whence it came, and perceived a beautiful female kneeling beside a grave, devoutly counting her rosary, her tears falling fast upon the ground. 1 lay, afraid to move, lest the noise might disturb her. She remained for some time, absorbed in devotion; then arose from her knees, and, taking a small jar of holy water, sprinkled the grave, and retired undisturbed by me. I mentioned the circumstance to no one; but, day after day, I was an unperceived witness of this scene. At length, she saw me as she approached, and was retiring in haste. I came near her. She stood, to let me pass. I said, "My presence shall give you no uneasiness; Adieu !" Stay,' she said, are you Don Galves' good soldier ?" I replied, "I live with him."Stay, you can feel for me: I have none to feel for, nor advise me. Blessed Virgin, be my friend!' She looked to heaven, her eyes beaming resignation and hope, the tears dropping on her bosom. I stretched out my hand to her; my eyes, I believe, were wet; I did not speak. None,' she said, mournfully, can again have my hand: I gave it to Francisco.' "Tis the hand of friendship." I can have no friend but death. -You do not pray for the dead; you cannot pray with me.' I said, "I will listen to your's." She then began her usual prayers; then rose, and sprinkled the grave with holy water. I inquired, "Whose grave do you water ?" My mother's. "How long has she been dead?" Five years.' "Five years! have you done thus so long?" Alas, no! my mother had been released ;* but, five weeks ago, my mournful task again began: 'tis for Francisco. Adieu,' she sobbed, and retired with a hurried

• From Purgatory.

The subjoined, which must be our last extract, will afford a better and more general idea of the mode in which the Journal is executed. It is a notice of the victory of Vittoria, and is at once picturesque, spirited, and circumstantially probable :

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-

Next morning we got up as usual. The first pipes played for parade; the second did not play at the usual time. We began to suspect all was not right. We remained thus until eleven o'clock; then received orders to fall in, and follow the line of march. During our march we fell to one side, to allow a brigade of guns to pass us at full speed. "Now," said my comrades, "we will have work to do before night." We crossed a river; and, as we passed through a village, we saw, on the other side of the road, the French camp, and their fires still burning just as they had left them. Not a shot had been fired at this time. We observed a large Spanish column moving along the heights, on our right. We halted, and drew up in column. Orders were given to brush out our locks, oil them, and examine our flints. We being in the rear, these were soon followed by orders to open out from the centre, to allow the 71st to advance. Forward we moved up the hill. The firing was now very heavy. Our rear had not engaged, before word came for the Doctor to assist Colonel Cadogan, who was wounded. Immediately we charged up the hill, the piper playing," Hey Johnny Cope." The French had possession of the top, but we soon forced them back, and drew up in column on the height; sending out 4 companies to our left to skirmish. The remainder moved on to the opposite height. As we ad

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vanced, driving them before us, a French officer, a pretty fellow, was pricking and forcing his men to stand. They heeded him not-he was very harsh :"Down with him!" cried one near me; and down he fell, pierced by more than one ball."

"Scarce were we upon the height, when a heavy column, dressed in greatcoats, with white covers on their hats, exactly resembling the Spanish, gave us a volley, which put us to the rightabout at double quick time down the hill, the French close behind, through the whins. The four companies got the word, the French were on them. They likewise thought them Spaniards, until they got a volley that killed or wounded almost every one of them. We retired to the height, covered by the 50th, who gave the pursuing column a volley, which checked their speed. We moved up the remains of our shattered regiment to the height. Being in great want of ammunition, we were

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again served with sixty rounds a mɛn, and kept up our fire for some time, until the bugle sounded to cease firing."

"We lay on the height for some time. Our drought was excessive; there was no water upon the height, save one small spring, which was rendered useless. One of our men, in the heat of the action, called out he would have a drink, let the world go as it would. He stooped to drink; a ball pierced his head; he fell with it in the well, which was discoloured by brains and blood. Thirsty as we were, we could not taste it."

"At this time, the Major had the command, our second Colonel being wounded. There were not 300 of us on the height able to do duty, out of above 1000 who drew rations in the morning. The cries of the wounded were most heart-rending."

We need scarcely repeat our commendations of this clever volume.

PRESENT STATE OF JERUSALEM.

IN N order to arrive at Jerusalem, it is requisite to cross some well cultivated plains, about three miles long, and which are those belonging to ancient Arimathea and Lydia. These lead the traveller into deep vallies, where vege. tation is weak and scarce, and which soon seems entirely to cease; towards Jerusalem the soil becomes unequal, reddish, and rugged: the eye discovers at a distance only immense buildings overthrown, the beds of torrents dried up, and winding intricate paths covered with pointed stones. The streets of Jerusalem are all crooked and ill paved; the houses are generally of freestone, and only receive light and air through a little door and one or two windows with wooden lattices. In a few shabby looking shops are sold olives, fruits brought from Damascus, rice, corn, and a few dried up vegetables. A group of Arabs, half-starved, are generally

seen devouring, with longing looks, these rich articles, and the Turkish merchant sits smoking his pipe with the utmost indifference, without seeming at Jerusalem is thought to contain twentyall occupied with his own interest. five thousand inhabitants, Arabs, Turks, Jews, and Armenians: there are in it

no more than two hundred Christian families. The interior of the town is

large enough to contain at least double

the number of inhabitants: therefore a great many of the streets leading to the mountains, are unpaved, and totally destitute of inhabitants; vast dwellinghouses, churches, and cloisters, are entirely desolate.

The habitation of one of the dragomans of the holy sepulchre is very plain and modest; the oldest of Albon-Souan's sisters is eighteen. A female is allowed to marry at twelve. All the young women of Albon-Souan's family were beautiful and agreeable. The