it to the ground-and of which Mr. Walker, who was there also, has given, in his note, a very interesting description. Bolivar had here an opportunity of establishing one more claim to Montillo's daughter; for, when the old man had given her up for lost, our Eneas bore her from the ruins and laid the lovely burden' at his feet. The generality of survivors took refuge in the open fields; but young Bolivar' led Montillo into the woods.

'And lighted by the fire-fly's fitful gleam,

Strewed with dry leaves the dew-bespangled bed,

And bade the embers glow to scare the panther's tread.' And thus endeth the first Cante. The second opens with some pretty good lines; which we shall extract.

'Sweet rose the cheering sun, with lively red,
Tinging the forest tops and mountain's side:
The Indian started from his mossy bed,
And throwing o'er his limbs the panther's hide,
On Oronooko's stream his paddle plied;

To throw the dart, or twang the bow, he knew,
For these his every luxury supplied:

Joyful he rose, his labours to pursue,

Ere yet the ardent sun drank up the rosy dew.'

Roused by the glittering beams, the youthful stag,
The pearly moisture from his antlers shook,
Free as the wind, to climb the jutting crag,
Or paw the plain, or court the cooling brook.
The feathered tribe their little nests forsook,
And carolled loud from rock, and vale, and steep;
But, from that morn, that seemed so gay to look,
Could Venezuela's sons no transport reap,
And matrons rose to sigh, and maidens rose to weep.
Yet paused not thus, in unavailing woe,

The emboldened youth: with massy bar and spade,
Ere yet the mid-day beams began to glow,
They from the ruins digged the silent dead,

And the last duty to their relics paid;

So numberless they were, that, in one tomb,

The poor, the rich, the weak, the strong, were laid;
Memorial sad! prophetic of that doom,

Which yet shall wrap the world in everlasting gloom!' The Caracians were obliged to build themselves temporary dwellings, out of the bamboo-cane. And we have the following note on the subject.

'In many parts of Terra Firma, the bamboo cane is used for planking the sides of houses.-It is first split open, and the joints which run through the cane scooped out; it is then notched inside

with an axe, and laid open; a good cane will thus become a plank a foot wide. They are placed perpendicularly, and have a beautiful smooth appearance, excelling the hardest woods in durability,

and the finest varnish in lustre.'

A Spanish armament appears on the coast of Venezuela. Bolivar collects some followers; meets the invaders; fights desperately; but is taken prisoner; and ordered into the dungeon of La Guayra. When his conductors reached the top of the mountain which overhangs the place, we have the following very good description of the scene.

'Now, on the mountain's top, beneath them lay
The battlements of Guayra, snowy white;
Each distant bark, at anchor in the bay,
Appeared no bigger than a shallop light
On an extended lake, unmoved and bright:
There oft the curious traveller stays his pace,
When winding by some precipice's height;

Tries thro' the clouds below the scene to trace,
And, giddy, deems he sees eternity's dim space.'

What becomes of Montillo, at this eventful crisis, we have not been able to discover: but Laura sets out for La Guayra in the night, stumbling at each step,' and feeling pretty streaked, as one might suppose. A watch-fire struck her sight.

'She gazed: an aged Indian forward pressed,
And frankly held his hand the way to guide;
Wooing her in such phrase to be his guest,
No longer might the proffer be denied.
Each crossing branch he careful pushed aside,
And reached, by wily turns, his small retreat,
Near to the margin of the crested tide:

The matron and her daughter rose to meet,

And hailed the stranger maid in guileless accents sweet.' Domingo (that was the Indian's name) took every pains to dispel Laura's fears; while his wife and daughter were preparing to allay her appetite.

-Soon the Indian's humble board

With homely bread and fragrant fruits was filled,

For her, the ample calabash was stored,

With the Palmetto's vinous essence mild.'

Of which vinous essence mild,' we have the following

account.

'From a species of palm-tree, the Indians extract a liquor resembling whey in colour, and of a pleasing acid flavour: it is procured by felling the tree, and making an incision in the soft part of the stem where the branches unite. Next day, the aperture will be found full of the juice. When distilled, it is said to produce a

liquor as ardent as spirits of wine; in its primitive state it resembles spruce beer. The Indians, particularly those of the coast of Santa Martha, also use an intoxicating beverage, produced by a fermentation of ripe plantains, bananas, and other fruits.'

The parties tell their mutual histories, and go to rest; which closes the second Canto. In the beginning of the third, we ascertain that Montillo is in 'durance fell,' as well as Bolivar. Domingo resolves to attempt the rescue of them both; and, taking Laura into his canoe, he sets off for La Guayra. Well had the generous dame' provided Laura with a little store of ripened fruit;' for Domingo had a hard time of it; and, before he came within sight of Cape Blanco, he was obliged to bend a reef in his sail, and paddle' for the shore. At length, however, he arrived at La Guayra; and, by some means or other, obtained an interview with Montillo; who told him, that a 'gentle shock' of an earthquake had kindly rent the walls of his prison, and that if he (Domingo) would be not far off in the evening, Bolivar and himself would plunge through the crevice into the sea, and swim to his canoe. This plan was executed; and all the four got safe to Domingo's hut. Here our hero laid a plan for the delivery of his countrymen; and told Domingo, that, if he would lend him his canoe, he would go to St. Martha and Carthagina; rouse up his followers; and carry all before him. There was some debate on the proposal; but Bolivar was fixed; and he accordingly set out upon the expedition. He was seven days' on the voyage; though, we are told, he had a fair wind. He passed the curious river of Magdalena; of which Mr. Walker gives us the following account.

The river Magdalena, by which the products of the ancient city and kingdom of Santa Fe de Bagota find their way to the ocean, takes its rise at the foot of the Andes, and is navigable for small vessels (called bongos) for upwards of a thousand miles. The town of Baranquilla is situated on its banks, as also Mompos, famous for its manufactures in gold. These towns communicate with Carthagena by means of a canal. The confluence of the Magdalena with the sea, is observed by seamen many miles from the land, by its milky appearance: a stranger would naturally suppose his ship had come upon a sand-bank. Large logs of wood, and trees in full verdure, are frequently picked up by vessels pursuing that tract.'

On the word Popa we have a note, which is worth extracting.

The Popa (so called from its resemblance on one side to a vessel's poop), is a hill rising from a flat ground, about a mile and a half from Carthagena. There is a monastery on the top of it,

which forms an excellent land-mark. Another hill, to the westward of the town, is called, in opposition, the Proa, or Prow.'

Bolivar collects a band of five thousand followers; takes up his march for Caracas; defeats the royalists—or rather they lay down their arms without striking a blow: and thus endeth the third Canto. The next thing was, to visit the inmates of Domingo's bower.' The hero issued from the streets in the night; and, though he had a variety of bad road to get over, he at length mounted to the top of the Saddle. Emerging from the wood-he

Fixed a fond look upon the view serene:
Here the dark ruins of Caracas stood,
With rising domes, and tufted trees between;
Beyond, the Guayra's stream alternate seen,
Wandered along the vale in playful maze,
And sought in distant shades its waves to screen;
Next, softly blended by the silver rays,

The blue majestic hills peeped from the dusky haze.'

·

·

Here the guardian angel' of Columbia's land' descends from the clouds; gives him a variety of council; advises him to court the alliance of the English; and leaves the chief 'gazing'' till her form is lost in far ethereal blue.'

'But now the dawn appeared with lingering pace,
And, from the east, the beams of rising day
Began, from wood and dell, the shades to chase,
Darting, in every nook, the enlivening ray,
And burnishing the ocean's watery way:
The panther in his cave no longer slept,
But watched, in thicket hid, his reckless prey;
The clamorous Monas up the branches crept,

And oft, from tree to tree, in restless gambol leaped.'

Whereby hangs a tale, which our readers will be amused to read.

The ring-tailed monkey, called in Spanish mona (which I have used, as better suited to verse), is common to South America. The monkies are very artful and mischievous; and if annoyed, frequently attack their disturber from the tops of trees, with nuts and stones. The negroes in the colonies have a ludicrous method of catching them; which is by putting a lump of sugar into the hole at the end of an empty cocoa-nut shell, laying it on the ground, and strewing some sugar round it. The monkey, whose curiosity prompts him to search the spot you have left, no sooner tastes the sweet repast, than, in search of more, he puts his paw into the shell, and grasps the sugar; but as the hole is just large enough to admit his withdrawing it empty, he is so tenacious of his prize, that he is easily surprised-the large shell fixed at his paw.'

The last chapter of this eventful history is soon told. Bolivar finds Domingo's hut; is presented with the hand of Laura; and the happy couple, along with Montillo, returned to Caracas where, we are to suppose, they yet live in peace! With peace, with plenty, and with freedom blest,

All Venezuela smiled;--I may not tell the rest.'

From these specimens it is quite manifest, we think, that Mr. Walker would have done well to have confined himself entirely to the composition of historical notes;' leaving the metrical tales' to be told by the poetasters of nineteen hundred. What we need, at present, is, a detail of facts respecting the physical and moral condition of South America; such a detail as might enable us to form something like a correct idea of what will be the end of the revolutions which are every day taking place there. Our author has, indeed, given us a speculation on the subject, in the Preface to his Tale; but he has said nothing that we have not heard very often before. An infinite deal of nonsense' has been uttered by others, too, in the same strain; and, so far as such. things can gratify the speakers, we certainly have no objection to them: but it behoves those who rightly estimate the importance of South America, and who have a proper care of their own reputation, to possess themselves of the facts before they venture to reason, and to yield, as little as possible, to any arguments derived from analogy. It is the fashion in this country, to laud all attempts at throwing off colonial bondage, because we were ourselves so successful in the undertaking; though we venture to say, that, particularly with respect to the revolutions in South America, there never was a more shallow reason for thinking so; and we hope too, that, before long, we shall have an opportunity of proving our assertion somewhat in detail.

ART VI.An Original Letter of Columbus, giving an Account of his first Voyage. From the tenth Article in the LIVth Number of the Edinburgh Review.

W

WE shall close this article with calling the reader's attention to a document of great curiosity in the history of the illustrious man of whose origin we have been discoursing, and which nevertheless appears to have been almost entirely overlooked by the celebrated authors who have treated of his story. It is a letter written by him upon his return from the first voyage in which he discovered the New World. He landed, as is well known, at Lisbon, and re