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of slavery to which the native females are doomed. The widow had been long enough with us to be sensible how much more her sex was respected by civilized men than savages, and, as I conceived, it was with such sentiments that she committed her child to my charge, under the immediate care, however, of Piper's gin (wife)."

It is impossible to read these interesting volumes without a glowing anticipation of the future greatness of this more than imperial colony. Its wastes and mountain ranges undoubtedly at present appear desolate, but their condition is not to be decided until it shall have been fairly tried by the energies of a population with British blood in their veins. They may be intended, too, for barriers and defences of future nations. But the land contains vast districts full of the promise of boundless fertility, full of picturesque beauty, and already, by the bounty of nature, prepared for the best prosperity of man. The latter portions of the Journal are crowded with brief but expressive sketches of this fine diversity of soil and land scape.

"Sept. 25. One bold range of forest land appeared before us, and, after crossing it, we passed over several rivulets falling northward, then over a ridge, and then descended into a valley of the finest description. Grassy hills, clear of timber, appeared beyond a stream also flowing northward." This noble country continues, yet with new aspects of luxuriance, and even of grandeur.

"Sept. 26.-By diverging a little to the right, we entered upon an open tract of country of the finest description, stretching away to the south-west among similar hills, until they were lost in the extreme distance. The whole surface was green as an emerald." They now meet with some streams watering this tract, and approach two lofty smooth round Lills, "green to the sky," the united streams flowing through an open dell, through which the carts passed without meeting any impediment. The Major ascended one of those hills, and "enjoyed such a charming view eastward from this summit, as can but seldom fall to the lot of the explorers of new countries. The surface presented the forms of virgin beauty clothed in the hues of spring, and the shining verdure of the earth

was relieved by the darker hues of the wood with which they were interlaced. . . . The hills seemed entirely of lava, and I named the whole formation, which seemed so peculiar, the Mameloid Hills, and the station Mount Greenock. In travelling through this Eden no road was necessary, nor any ingenuity in conducting wheel-carriages wherever we chose. When we had completed fourteen miles, we encamped on the edge of an open plain near a small rivulet, the opposite bank consisting of grassy forest land."

But

The same country continues. "Sept. 27. We this day crossed several fine running streams, and forests of box and blue-gum growing on ridges of trapean conglomerate. At length we entered on a very level and extensive flat, exceedingly green, and resembling an English park." This language may occasionally seem too much resembling the usual enthusiasm of discoverers, an enthusiasm which, in the instance of our naval officers, manly and intelligent a class as they are, has often produced disappointment. But, in the present instance, the circumstances are different. A sailor's raptures at seeing any thing that looks like verdure, after having been long wearied by sky and sea, ought to be largely allowed for. Major Mitchell was fully accustomed to the sight, and he has no hesitation in describing the wilderness in the language of desolation. His sketches vary with the change of scene; and after this description, glowing as it is, we have details of the country which he subsequently passed through in his way north-east, by no means too captivating. That he has a strong sense of natural loveliness is clear, but we altogether doubt that he has coloured a single feature of his first impressions. Our only fault with him, and that a trivial one, is his selection of names for his hills and valleys. A discoverer may certainly be granted some allowance in distributing his new-found realm among his friends; but we wish that the custom were altogether laid aside of giving the names of insignificant officials, however high their station, and in some instances, of officials equally insignificant in station and person. We do not make the remark especially with reference to this able man, but to all; and the future mas

ters of these great provinces of British discovery will have either to reform their maps, or to bear the stigma of suffering their countries to be burdened with the names of individuals wholly trifling in their own generation, and forgotten by every other. The later voyagers to the north of America have exhibited themselves peculiarly expert in this bastard canonization, and there are maps from which we might almost compile a list of the clerks of the Admiralty. If the discoverer requires names to mark the leading points of his discovery, let him take those great names of his country-the statesmen, orators, warriors, divines, and men of science-the Raleighs and Pitts, the Burkes and Erskines, the Latimers and Cranmers, the Newtons, Watts, Arkwrights, &c., and our Nelsons, Marlboroughs, Wolfes, and Wellingtons- -names already established in honour, and whose renown can never decay. When those are exhausted, let him take the names of the great incidents of our history-the Charter, the Reformation, the Revolution, &c. Then let him commemorate our victories-our La Hogues, St Vincent's, Aboukirs, Trafalgars; our Salamancas, Victorias, Waterloos, &c. If his empire demands still more, let him, then, turn to foreign countries, or to ancient times. But let his last and most reluctant resource be either the Admiralty or the War Office. Again we say, that those remarks are with reference solely to the general propriety of the subject. In giving such names we may accomplish the natural and right purpose of keeping illustrious examples and national memories in the mind of those who are to follow us. We have no authority to afflict them with the mere record of our insignificance.

Still advancing (October 23,) they unexpectedly saw a noble cataract. When they had crossed a deep stream which flowed to the northward, and fixed their camp for the night, Major Mitchell, hearing the sound of falling water, rode up along the bank and came to a very fine fall of sixty feet. The river fell more than double that height, but in the lower part the water escaped unseen, flowing among large blocks of granite. "I had visited," he observes, "several waterfalls, including those on the Clyde, and in Devon, but this certainly was the most

picturesque scene of the kind that I had ever witnessed. Yet this effect was not so much in the body of water falling, as the bold character of the rocks among which it fell. Their colour and shape were harmonised into a more perfect picture than nature usually presents. The prevailing hues were light red and purple gray, the rocks being finely interlaced, with a small-leaved creeper of the brightest green.

"Dark-coloured moss, which presents a warm green in the sun, covered the lower rocks, and relieved the brighter hues, while a brilliant iris shone steadily in the spray, and blended into perfect harmony the lighter hues of the rocks, and the whiteness of the torrent rushing over them. The banks of this stream were of so bold a character, that, in all probability, other picturesque scenery, perhaps finer than this, may be found upon it." Oct. 7th, they again met some of the natives, who now seemed never to approach them but with hostile intentions. Presents evidently only sharpened their cupidity, and conciliation was as evidently attributed to fear. A group of seven of them came up to the tents; two tomahawks were given to them to go away, but as usual without effect. They were lingering there to kill the party in their sleep. On this occasion, a contrivance was adopted to drive them away, at once effectual and harmless, and which we recommend to the use of other discoverers.

At a signal, one of the party suddenly rushed forth wearing a gilt mask, and holding in his hand a blue light, with which he fired a rocket. The use of the mask, which had been tried several times with success, was suggested to the Major by Sir John Jamieson. Two men concealed behind the boat carriage, bellowed hideously through speaking trumpets at the same time, while all the others shouted and discharged their carbines in the air. The man in the mask marched solemnly towards the astonished natives, who were seen through the gloom but for an instant, as they made their escape and disappeared, but leaving behind them rough-shaped heavy clubs, which they had made there in the dark with the new tomahawks we had given them; and which clubs were, doubtless, made for the sole purpose of beating out their brains.

Thus the scene ended in hearty laughing. The Major observes, "That he was at length convinced, that no kindness had the slightest effect in altering the savage desire of the natives to kill white men, on their first coming among them. That Austra lia can never be explored with safety, except by very powerful parties, will probably be proved by the treacherous murder of many brave white men."

On October the 17th, they reached the Murray. No one could have mistaken the access; for the vast extent of verdant margin, with its lofty trees and still lakes, could have belonged to no other Australian river which they had met. After reaching this powerful stream, they began to look for the marks of cattle, having heard that the herds of the settlers had already extended themselves even in this remote direction. They at last found tracks of the wheels of a gig drawn by one horse, and accompanied by others, but they were some months old. Such are the minute remarks and trivial objects which excite the interest of men in those solitudes. The full and flowing river, always a source of animation, gave an unusual appearance of life and motion to the desert, where all around was so still. Serpents seem to have been the only tenants of the wilderness, and some were seen of a species apparently peculiar to the river. They invariably take to it, and one beautiful reptile in particular, of a gold colour, with red streaks, sprung from under the Major's horse's feet, and "rode upon the strong current of the boiling stream, keeping abreast of us, and holding his head erect, as if in defiance, and without once attempting to make his escape, until he died in his glory by a shot."

As their route turned homewards, they appear to have been in some fear of the failure of their provisions, and it became a matter of primary importance to fall in with some of the cattle of the out stations. At length they At length they found the tracks not only of cattle but of well-shod horses! The Major now hastened back with the good tidings to the party, brought the carts into the valley, and pushed onward, cheered by finding additional marks, even the

print of young calves' feet. "And at length," as he pleasantly tells, "the welcome sight of the cattle themselves delighted our longing eyes, not to mention our stomachs, which were then in the best possible state to assist our perceptions of the beauty of a foreground of fat cattle." But the view was destined to end in disappointment. "We were soon surrounded by a staring herd of at least 800 wild animals, and I took a shot at one: but my ball only made him jump; upon which the whole body, apparently very wild, made off to the mountains. Symptoms of famine began now to show themselves in the sullenness of some of the men; and I most reluctantly consented to kill one of our poor working animals, which was accordingly shot, as soon as we encamped, and divided among the party."

Still advancing, they at length came in sight of the Murrumbidgee, and in sight of a landscape uniting the wild beauty of nature with some of the aspects of civilisation. Before them spread the "dark umbrageous trees, overshadowing that noble river, and the rich open flats, with tame cattle browzing on them, or reclining in luxurious ease, very unlike the wild herd. Now, we could trace the marks of horsemen on the plain; and as we travelled up the river, horses and cattle appeared on both banks. At length they came to the first fact of civilization. They discovered a small house and a stack-yard. An old settler there came out to meet them, named Bill Buckley, with the characteristic welcome of a huge loaf in his hand. All was now couleur de rose; some drays just then arrived, coming on the road from Sydney, and containing provisions. Piper, too, had his share of exultation. His joy was great on emerging from the land of savages, and coming among blacks, who no longer threatened to kill him: black fellows,' as he called them, 'not Myalls.' He fully exhibited the superiority of a traveller, and enjoyed his lionship prodigiously. Little Ballandella, too, the widow's infant, had been taken good care of by Mrs Piper, and was now feasted with milk, and seemed quite happy."

Civil

VOL. XLV. NO. CCLXXIX.

I

OUR POCKET COMPANIONS.

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an image of disconsolate obscuration? Bright art thou as at meridian on a June Sabbath; but effusing a more temperate lustre not unfelt by the sleeping, not insensate earth. She stirs in her sleep and murmurs-the mighty mother; and quiet as herself, though broad awake, her old ally the shipbearing sea. What though the woods be leafless they look as alive as when laden with umbrage; and who can tell what is going on now within the hearts of that calm oak grove? The fields laugh not now-but here and there they smile! If we flowers we think of them-and less of the perished than of the unborn; for regret is vain, and hope is blest; in peace there is the promise of joy-and therefore in the silent pastures a perfect beauty how restorative to man's troubled heart!

see no

The Shortest Day in all the year, yet lovelier than the Longest. Can that be the voice of birds? With the lave

rock's lyric our fancy filled the sky with the throstle's roundelay it awoke the wood. In the air life is audiblecircling unseen. Such serenity must be inhabited by happiness. Ha! there thou art, our Familiar-the self-same Robin red-breast that pecked at our nursery window, and used to warble from the gable of the school-house his sweet winter song!

In company we are silent-in soli. tude we soliloquize. So dearly do we love our own voice that we cannot bear to hear it mixed with that of others perhaps, drowned; and then our bash fulness tongue-ties us in the hush, expectant of our "golden opinions," when all eyes are turned to the speechless" old man eloquent," and might hear a tangle dishevelling itself in Neæra's hair. But all alone, by ourselves, in the country, among trees, standing still among untrodden leaves

you

as now-how we do speak! All

thoughts-all feelings-desire utterance; left to themselves they are not happy till they have evolved into words-winged words that sometimes settle on the ground, like moths on flowers-sometimes seek the sky, like eagles above the clouds.

No such soliloquies in written poetry as these of ours-the act of composition is fatal as frost to their flow; yet composition there is at such solitary times going on among the moods of the mind, as among the clouds on a still but not airless sky, perpetual but impercepti ble transformations of the beautiful, obedient to the bidding of the spirit of beauty;

"But those are heavenly, these an empty dream."

Who but Him who made it know

eth aught of the Laws of Spirit? All of us may know much of what is "wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best," in obedience to them; but leaving the open day we enter at once into thickest night. Why at this moment do we see a spot-once only visited by us, and unremembered for ever so many flights of black or bright winged years-see it in fancy as it then was in nature, with the same dew-drops on that wondrous myrtle beheld but on that morning-such a myrtle as no other eyes beheld ever on this earth, but ours, and the eyes of one now in heaven?

Another year is about to die-and how wags the world? "What great events are on the gale ?" Go ask our statesmen. But their rule their guidance is but over the outer world, and almost powerless their folly or their wisdom over the inner region in which we mortals live, and move, and have our being, where the fall of a throne makes no more noise than that of a leaf!

And what tiny volume is this we have in our hand? Collins, Gray, and Beattie! Were they among the number of those of whom Wordsworth thought, when he spoke

"Of mighty poets in their misery dead! We poets in our youth begin in gladness, But thereof comes in the end despondency and madness?"

Mighty they may not be called by the side of the godlike-but mighty they are, compared with "us poor sons of a day," and on earth their might endureth for ever.

Assuredly there is something not dreamt of in our philosophy in the character of crows. What can be the meaning of that congregating multitude, on, in, and around that one huge single oak, himself a grove? It is mid-day-and the creatures are not going to set up their roost. Now, all again is mute-save an occasional caw-buried in profound meditation. Reason! Instinct! Man! Bird! Beast! Time! Eternity! Creation! God!

Pray, who may be "THE PROPRIE TORS OF THE ENGLISH CLASSICS?" This volume is one of the many publications of that mysterious firm, and we are afraid even to whisper a word of blame to the woods. But why will they persist in prefacing poetry all the world delights in, with libels on the genius that produced it? Here we have all Dr Johnson's stupid slanders on Gray, by way of introduction, that boys and virgins may step across the threshold into the house of his fame, with contempt and scorn of all his poems except the Elegy. His estimation of the genius of Collins the poet is not much nearer the truth, though he writes tenderly and admiringly of the character of Collins the man. "He had employed his mind chiefly on works of fiction and subjects of fancy, and by indulging some peculiar habits of thought, was eminently delighted with those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature, and to which the mind is reconciled only by passive acquiescence in popular tradition. He loved fairies and genii, giants and monsters; he delighted to rove through the meanders of enchantment, to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces, to repose by the waterfalls of Elysian gardens. This was, however, the character rather of his inclination than his genius; the grandeur of wildness, and the novelty of extravagance, were always desired by him, but were not always attained. Yet, as diligence is never wholly lost, if his efforts sometimes caused harshness and obscurity, they likewise produced, in happier moments, sublimity and splendour. This idea which he had formed of excellence led him to oriental fictions and allegorical

imagery; and, perhaps, while he was intent on description, he did not suf ficiently cultivate sentiment. His poems are the description of a mind not deficient in fire, nor unfurnished with knowledge either of books or life, but somewhat obstructed in its progress by deviations in quest of mistaken beauties. * To what I have formerly said of his writings may be added, that his diction was often harsh, unskilfully laboured, and inju diciously selected. He affected the obsolete, when it was not worthy of revival, and he puts his words out of the common order, seeming to think, with some late candidates for fame, that not to write prose is certainly to write poetry.

His lines commonly

are of slow motion, clogged and im peded with clusters of consonants. As men are often esteemed who cannot be loved, so the poetry of Collins may sometimes extort praise, where it gives little pleasure."

There is, we believe, some unconscious confusion here of Collins' reading and writing, his studies and his compositions; Johnson having huddled together all he had got to say about both, so that he was speaking all the while, without knowing it, in one breath, indiscriminately, of the scholar and of the poet-of his table-talk and of the productions of his genius. His noble verses-mis-named an Ode"On the Superstitions of the Highlands," do indeed treat of "popular traditions,"--but not of such as "the mind is reconciled to only by a passive acquiescence," for the imagination all the world over, in all time, creates and clings to such beliefs. "Of giants and monsters" there is not a syllable in the poetry of Collins"genii" do, indeed, sometimes glide along the glimmer or the gloom, and as lovely as ever fancy feigned-nor can the delicacy of his touch be exceeded when he sings of the Fairies. "The meanders of enchantment," are words without meaning-pretty as they are "to gaze on the magnificence of golden palaces," you must go to the works of some other architect-nor is there in all Collins one "waterfall in an Elysian garden," by which the doctor could have sought repose. The" character of his inclination and his genius," was one and the same, and no poet ever delivered himself up more de

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